Some careful, considerate and wholly consensual Crowbarrow knifeplay.
They’re being safe about it, bloodtests done and all like good boys
Thomas squeezed his thighs together over Philip’s waist; he could see the outline of Philip’s lashes through the thin blindfold, could watch him blinking as he waited for Thomas.
“Ready?” He asked. Philip nodded and gasped in surprise when Thomas drew the icy blade over his cheek. His mouth dropped open and Thomas drew the knife away again, trailing the back of it over his lips. “It’s not the sharpened end, I promise. Put your tongue out.”
Philip did so, slowly - Thomas drew a line down the centre and could feel the warmth of his breath coming against the coolness of the blade. Philip just closed his lips over both and Thomas’s eyes went wide, watching his upper lip minutely catching on the knife’s ridges.
“Fuck, you’re lovely,” he murmured. “Now, this is the sharp edge.”
Philip bit his lip as Thomas drew the serrated edge over the skin of his chest, pulling lightly; he made a soft sound as droplets of blood sprung up and Thomas leaned down to kiss them.
“My very own vampire,” Philip teased breathlessly, massaging Thomas’s thigh. Thomas hummed his agreement, leaning down to lick the the iron taste of himself into Philip’s mouth.
He repeated the action on the other side, drawing his finger over after with a quiet fascination, spreading it over his fingers, before he cut his own fingertip. He extended it to Philip, who had pulled his blindfold up in the silence. He leaned forward and took Thomas’s fingers into the wet heat of his mouth, staring up into Thomas’s darkened eyes, blood-rouged lips.
“I love you,” Thomas whispered, pulling his fingers from Philip’s mouth and down. He ran his still bleeding finger over Philip’s throat. “That’s your shackle.”
“Of iron,” he agreed, drawing Thomas down for a deep kiss.
Mod AU Philip visiting Thomas in psych after the events of S6? I feel like your Crowbarrow conversations are the most magical things, and what better conversation than that.
The first thing Thomas had said to him in a few years was “Did Mary tell you?”, while he fiddled with the bandages on his wrist. He looked pale, lost - younger than when Philip had last seen him, with all his haughtiness and expensive gel having gone.
“Yes. She thought I’d like to know - obviously I did. Obviously I’m here,” Philip said awkwardly. “May I sit down?”
“Go on,” Thomas said, shrugging. “All the better for your gawking, I suppose. Christ, I’m dying for a fag.”
“I’m not - I didn’t come to gawk. Won’t they let you go outside? Or onto the roof?” Philip asked.
“Don’t think they’re keen on the idea of me going to the roof in my state,” he said, holding his wrists up. Philip felt foolish, covering it up with a cough. “Maybe this’ll be the final call for quitting.”
"I’m not sure; you’re nothing if not persistent.”
“Fat lot of good that’s done me,” Thomas said with a sigh. Philip’s heart clenched. “Would you get me a Coke? I hate asking the bloody nurses, like they’re my maids.”
“Oh, but it’s fine for me to be your maid? On one condition,” Philip said, though the fact of his standing up pretty much belied the addition. Thomas cocked a wary eyebrow at him. “Stand up.”
"Making me work for it, eh?” Thomas said, slowly moving to do so. The fact of the news had broken Philip’s heart a touch, but the sight of it all was so much worse.
“Come here,” he said, drawing Thomas into a tight embrace. “I’m sorry, darling,” he murmured. He could feel Thomas taking a shaky breath in his ear, prompting him to hold him tighter still, running a hand through his hair.
Thomas pulled away after a moment, running his thumb and forefinger over his eyes. “Now you’ve seen what you’ve done.”
“It was never very hard, as I recall,” Philip teased, holding his hands over his ears to replicate Dumbo. Thomas laughed tearily and shoved him with one weak hand.
“Piss off and make yourself useful.”
Philip proceeded to piss off down the hall, wandering a bit aimlessly until he found a vending machine. He bought Cokes for himself and Thomas and a bar of chocolate. He hated hospitals; he wished that something had been impetus enough years ago to have convinced him to reconnect with Thomas in a better way than occasional Facebook likes. Certainly better a way than this. He pressed one of the Cokes against his forehead and sighed.
“Thanks,” Thomas said when he had returned, smiling at the chocolate bar. He opened it and tore off a square, popping it into his mouth. “What’s brought you here, then?”
“What do you suppose? To extend my sympathies; I never realised -”
"Christ, it’d be shocking if you did. No one else managed.. Lots of visitors now, though - poor Thomas, ruined his life and see where it’s gotten him. A cautionary tale,” he said, spreading his fingers out. Philip’s brows drew together.
"What happened?” Philip asked.
“What hasn’t happened?” Thomas said, looking resigned. He stopped chewing for a second, bothering at his bandages again, distractedly. “It’s all just - led up to this, hasn’t it? It’d be more surprising if I never did try. My dad - you leaving, Edward, that guy Jimmy I was in love with for years who fucking punched me over a gay panic - I lost a lot of my money with shit investments more than once and - I can’t -”
Thomas breathed heavily for a second, blinking. Philip moved to sit closer, taking Thomas’s hand in both of his own; he couldn’t bear to hear how life had so destroyed Thomas. “You can - and you will. I know it’s all dreadful now, but it won’t be forever. I know you haven’t got a wonderful record, but something will give, surely. There’s a man waiting to fall in love with you. There’s always more money. If you need something, I’ll help - even just company at 4 in the morning; you know I never sleep. You have Sybil and Phyllis. That chap who found you. You do have people on your side, darling. You just don’t happen to be one of them at the moment.”
“I still wish I hadn’t woken up,” Thomas said softly. “It’s embarrassing. And still bloody useless.”
"I’m sorry you feel rotten, but I am glad you’re alive,” Philip said. He kissed the back of Thomas’s hand. “The earth would have unbalanced if you’d died.”
“You’re a twat,” Thomas said - fondly, weakly. He moved over to the edge of small bed. “Come sit next to me, at least, if you’re gonna get all soppy.”
Philip sat beside Thomas for hours, through nurse checks, chatting of the matters at hand and things meant to prove distractions - stroking his bandaged wrist with his thumb. It was easy to fall into something akin to their old routine so quickly; they’d always fit very well together.
Generalised prompt for more of the saga of Pro Dom Thomas and Client Philip, whenever you feel like it. Goodness.
Thomas smiled at Philip as he came through the door; it’d been about three weeks since their last session and he’d been worried Philip had frightened himself off. He’d gotten a new text from him the night prior, apologising again for the previous incident and setting up a new one.
“I got you a coffee,” Philip said, handing it to Thomas as he took off his coat. Thomas smirked a little, thanking him as they walked into the dungeon.
“You don’t have to keep apologising. Are you feeling a bit better?”
“Yes,” he replied, flushing slightly. “I shouldn’t have come last time; I’d barely slept for about a week. Lesson learned. Though - it was still rather nice.”
Thomas raised an eyebrow; he was surprised Philip hadn’t dropped after that. “You and I have slightly different opinions on what’s nice. Glad you enjoyed yourself, though. Did you just want your usual?”
"Would you choke me?” Philip asked, running his hands along one of the crops Thomas had lined up in his case. Thomas vaguely wondered whether Philip wasn’t going in a bit much, after last time, but didn’t say.
“Not with my hands. I have this collar here,” he said, showing Philip the choke-collar. “I pull it and it tightens, see,” Thomas wrapped it around his palm and showed Philip.
“Alright. What - what do you suppose I might like?” He asked, looking at Thomas curiously. He considered for a moment, after the initial jolt of his brain responding me.
“You might like sensory deprivation? I can put on noise-cancelling headphones and blackened goggles - I could choke you while you do that or doing the impact stuff,” he suggested. Thomas did sort of get off on that, watching them waiting for him; made him a bit dizzy. He did, though, think Philip would like it - like removing himself from the world for a bit, rather than just chasing the adrenaline rush of pain.
"That sounds rather frightening,” Philip said with a laugh. He bit his lip. “Alright. That with the flogging?”
"Alright. Here, with these, You’re going to count and then say your colour after every 5, yeah? I’ll start a bit lighter this time, as well,” Thomas said. “Undress while I get the gear, you can just wait there for a second.”
Philip stripped off while Thomas gathered his supplies, bringing them over to a table in the centre. Philip was watching him, tilting his head slightly at the new things. Thomas wanted so badly to kiss him again; he froze for a second, then said, “I’m glad you’ve come back.”
“Are you?” Philip asked, genuinely curious sounding. Thomas nodded as he helped get Philip into the cuffs once more.
“Yeah. You’re my favourite client. Don’t tell the others,” he added jokingly. Philip grinned at him while Thomas fetched the goggles and headphones. “Alright. Any last questions before these go on?” Philip shook his head and Thomas slipped the headphones on him. “Can you hear me?” Philip shook his head again and Thomas waved the goggles in front of him before he put them on.
Thomas sighed as he walked away, getting the flogger and coming back. He paused for a moment, rocking on his heels in contemplation. “Can you hear me?” He asked again. Philip simply breathed, twisting a little from the ceiling. “God, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured, bring the leather down on Philip’s back. Philip moaned and began to count aloud.
“You’re so fucking sexy,” Thomas said, coming around to the front. He peppered a few hits on his chest until Philip gave the green light; the flogger made him hard in a way that the paddle hadn’t, Thomas noticed. Thomas groaned. “God, I want you to fuck me,” he said, hitting Philip’s erection a few times.
Philip was starting to tremble a little, to jump a little less, but Thomas couldn’t tell whether he was crying or not; he dropped his head against back and groaned when Thomas moved closer to gauge. He kicked Philip’s feet apart brought the flogger up between his legs, making him whimper.
Thomas backed up and took a break, walking around Philip to look at the red lines scoring his pale skin. Philip turned a little to follow, trying to suss out where he was and Thomas took a deep breath, avoiding palming himself through his jeans.
“Green - please?” Philip asked quietly. He was starting to space, but seemed significantly calmer than the last time; Thomas liked the aftercare, anyway, liked chatting with him.
Thomas hit him between his legs a few more times, before moving onto his arse. Philip sighed shakily, voice starting to waiver; he groaned and rubbed his face against his arm, which always seemed to be a sign that he was slowing down, though he counted and gave a green light as he had been asked.
“I think we’d get on,” Thomas said chattily, hitting him a few more times.
“Yellow - will you - the paddle?” Philip asked, drowsily.
Thomas walked over to him and pulled one of the headphones away from his ear. “You want the paddle now? Five?”
"Please - please,” Philip managed.
“After that we’ll stop, alright?” Philip paused and opened his mouth a few times; he’d never used red with Thomas; only used yellow when he wanted to switch. Thomas was the one to usually put an end to their scenes; he didn’t need himself getting a reputation for beating the shit out of his clients. He ran his hand over Philip’s throat, over his jaw - he could feel his pulse speed up and Philip moved his head in time with Thomas’s hand, pushing into it. “Be a good boy and tell me to stop.”
“Yes. After,” Philip agreed. Thomas ran a thumb over his lips and when he opened his mouth, Thomas slid his hand away and pulled the headphone over Philip’s ear again. He stepped away to grab the paddle and glanced back to see that Philip was achingly hard, leaking down the length of his prick and he wanted nothing more than to taste him. He steadied himself again as he grabbed the paddle.
He steadied himself behind Philip and hit him once with it, hard on the arse. Philip raised himself onto his toes with a high-pitched groan and a gasping sigh. He continued to count for the five, shoulders shaking slightly with tears.
Thomas went over to him and undid the goggles, the headphones, the cuffs. Philip looked teary, but not broken; they were doing better together. Philip limped over to the futon and sat down gingerly, looking at Thomas with interest.
"Bright,” Philip said with a laugh, rubbing at his eyes. Thomas smiled at him and sat down beside him, not failing to notice his flagging erection.
“You can finish. If you’d like, the toilet’s through there,” Thomas said, pointing to the door. “You really like that flogger, eh?”
Philip went a bit red and laughed again. “Bit hard to miss,” he said.
“You do have a huge cock,” Thomas said conversationally.
“Is that part of the service?” Philip asked, grinning. “Beat me and tell me I’m pretty?”
"If you like. That one was on the house, though. Look,” Thomas said with a deep breath, turning to look at a now slightly concerned Philip, “do you know what I think you’d like?”
“Hmm?”
“Dinner with me. I’ll pay. I know it’s a bit weird to ask, but I like you - and you’re gorgeous, You don’t have to say yes,” he added. Philip looked at him curiously for a moment before he nodded. Thomas grinned and leaned forward, with a great rush of relief, pulling Philip in for a soft kiss. Philip gave a pleasant little hum against Thomas’s mouth.
"To think, I’ve never been asked for a date when I was naked before.”
Prompt: Philip is generally very subby, but sometimes Thomas needs to be the sub. Explore~
Philip watched Thomas squirm for a moment, enjoying the look of his lover so undone even if it was without the context to which he was accustomed. Thomas’s eyes were covered, his arms tied to the bed; it was all very strange, but rather appealing.
Thomas arched his back up a bit, trying to gain some sort of purchase on his aching prick. Philip ran a hand down his side, instead, making him squirm ticklishly.
“Bastard,’ Thomas hissed. His mouth guttered and Philip sat down on the bed beside him; he wasn’t terribly good at this, he was aware, but it was rather fun. He leaned forward and pressed his mouth against Thomas’s hip, then slipped further up to kiss his mouth. “Philip, Christ’s sake - “
“Shh,” Philip gentled, reaching down to run his fingers over one of Thomas’s nipples. He could feel the breath beneath his fingers stutter. “Be nice.”
“You be nice, then.”
“I’d be warier of being unkind to someone who’s got you trussed up,” Philip teased, leaning down to run his mouth over Thomas’s chest. He pulled a strand of hair from off his tongue, leaning down to bite a piece of Thomas’s belly. He kissed it better, moving down further still.
“I - like to be - ah, adventurous, “ he managed, as Philip took the head of prick into his mouth for a moment, moaning around it. Thomas arched his back again and Philip moved away.
“I’m well aware,” Philip murmured against Thomas’s thigh. “Say thank you.”
And prompt: Mod AU, Philip hires professional dom Thomas.
Appt?
Thomas received the text before noon, which showed, he suppose, the sort of day that Philip was having - or the night previously, as the case may be. He was always polite about not sending texts after 9, but seemed to have no such qualms about the mornings.
Client at 4 - you for 2?
1? he received immediately. Well - someone was eager. Thomas confirmed and Philip sent back an immediate Thank you. Thomas wondered what he was like outside of the bounds of their professional relationship; he seemed completely bizarre. Not Thomas’s usual sort of client, really - he’d brought Thomas a latte on the second appointment, apologising for it being a bit cold. He was used to people buying things for him, but the size of that particular gift seemed more thoughtless decency than a gift to a dom.
He was also young, quite sexy, charming, evidently unmarried, and in possession of one of the biggest cocks Thomas had seen in real life. He idly wished he hadn’t ever set up his self-imposed rule about dating clients.
“Hello,” Thomas greeted, stepping aside to let Philip in. He looked a bit frazzled, more than Thomas had seen him before. He wondered whether this were going to be an especially long session rather than just an early one. “How’ve you been?”
“Not terribly well. My father died,” he said - looking oddly apologetic about it. Thomas gaped for a second before he caught himself and frowned, taking Philip’s coat.
“Christ. Sorry.”
"No need to apologise. It’s honestly been sort of a relief; he was dreadful. But it’s left me in charge of everything, so it’s been sort of a mess - Sorry,” he said, apparently realising what he was doing. He reached out and touched Philip’s arm.
“You can tell me about it. I don’t mind,” Thomas said, smiling at him sympathetically. Philip shook his head, laughing breathily.
“No - it’s alright. How’ve you been?”
“Same as usual, pretty dull,” Thomas said, because it usually amused his clients - though it was true. The repetition was what made it dull; he wasn’t particularly dominant sexually in reality, but the pay was gorgeous. Who was he to say no?
“I hate to tack onto that dullness, but I think I only really want what we usually do,” Philip said as they made their way into Thomas’s dungeon. Thomas locked the door behind him and shrugged.
“Up to you. Red, yellow, green all that,” Thomas confirmed. Philip nodded, looking slightly bashful as Thomas instructed him to remove his clothes.
For his part, Thomas preferred to not go in for the costumes and stuff unless the client asked for it; it always made him feel like a bit of a prat. Philip seemed happy to just have Thomas do it in his own clothes, with himself naked. A perfectly fine arrangement, though it’d had occasionally happen that he’d get hard from watching Philip squirm, which was unusual.
Philip brushed his hair from his face and smiled at Thomas awkwardly, waiting for him to provide further instructions; Thomas honestly would have been happy to give over the BDSM thing altogether and just let Philip fuck him on the futon he had in the room, but valiantly restrained himself and helped Philip strap his arms into the cuffs which hung from the ceiling.
“You want the rubber?” Thomas asked, looking over his collection of paddles.
“Yes, please,” Philip said. He was a bit short for the cuffs and stood on the balls of his feet, eyes shut. It wasn’t a thing that Thomas understood, truthfully; surely there were better things to do to Philip;s arse - and he really had to stop thinking of that.
"I’m going to do 5, then you can tell me your colour. Alright? Then we can just go and you tell me when I ask,” Thomas said, walking over to stand behind Philip. “Turn around. Open your eyes.” Philip reluctantly did so, though he eyed the paddle. “No, look at me.”
Philip inhaled deeply, his gaze catching Thomas’s as the paddle came down over his cock - his head dropped and his mouth guttered, but he was silent. Thomas continued on his front for the first five - scattering them over his stomach.
“Green - please - green -”
Thomas did the next ten in fast, brutal succession over his arse until his feet dropped from under him and he held himself up by the arms. His gorgeous arms - Christ. Thomas felt himself getting hard. ‘
“Yellow until you can stand,” Thomas said, but Philip shook his head,
“Please, green - sir - green,” Philip murmured, Thomas made a noise of refusal, coming over and grabbing a handful of Philip’s warm arse, pushing him forward a second so that he half-heartedly swung forward. Thomas wrapped his arms around Philip’s waist, pulling him against himself.
“You have to wait,” he said, teasing at Philip’s prick with the handle of his paddle. “You have to be a good boy.”
Philip responded with a groan and he finally put his feet firmly back beneath himself, lolling his head back against Thomas. He was already spacing from the adrenaline and Thomas felt a bit shit that he hadn’t started slower, hadn’t taken better care of him. “Please,” he said softly.
“Not yet. Wait like a good boy for me,” Thomas whispered into his ear. Philip made a soft little noise from the back of his throat, rubbing his face against his upper arm to wipe at the few tears that had gathered. "Actually, Philip,” he said, backing up, “I might need to stop this.”
Philip’s head dropped and Thomas could see him start to cry; regardless of Philip’s typically-intense tolerance for the masochism, Thomas was definitely guilty, feeling hideously amateurish. His father had only just died and Thomas had gone too fast; perhaps this was why Philip had booked an earlier session.
“C’mon, let’s get you down,” Thomas said, helping to undo Philip’s restraints - then hold him up a bit, letting Philip lean on him as they made their way to the futon. Philip sat down, as was his wont despite the sore arse, and curled his arms around his head. letting himself cry quietly as Thomas replaced the paddle.
“I’m sorry,” Philip said, looking up at Thomas. He resembled a teary little boy and Thomas’s heart broke a little, imagining what Philip must have been like as a child. Thomas sat down beside him and took his face in his hand, stroking at the tears beneath his eyes which still fell over Thomas’s thumb.
“None of that,” Thomas murmured. “You did wonderfully. Come here.”
He wrapped Philip in an embrace and broke his rule about kissing, placing one on the top of Philip’s shaking head. “I - wanted 40.”
“I fucked up, It was my fault, you did everything right, but I should have spaced it out. You didn’t do anything wrong,” Thomas said, sighing. He ran a hand over Philip’s back comfortingly and sighed. “You always do the best of my clients. It was just a bit rough today, that’s all. Do you fancy tea?”
"I’m so tired,” Philip murmured, pressing his forehead against Thomas’s shoulder.
“You can have a bit of a nap here and I’ll make us tea,” Thomas offered. Philip nodded, but didn’t move. Thomas would have napped with him in different circumstances - if he didn’t have a client coming in a bit. perhaps, but he had to be careful with himself around Philip.
Philip finally leaned away and Thomas stood, watching as Philip curled on his side on the futon. Thomas pulled the heavy blanket over him, watching him relax at the weight of it as he shut his eyes. Thomas sighed, crossing his arms over his chest as we walked out of the room the make the pair of them tea.
This is going to end well, Thomas thought with a sigh.
A drabble prompt! Sad rich boy Philip picks up sad escort Thomas. Things ensue.
Philip wasn’t entirely sure what to expect from the encounter; he had booked online when he was a bottle of wine deep and had been wondering frantically whether he ought not simply cancel. Then, on the day of, he realised he was half looking forward to it, despite the potential embarrassment. He was lonely - well, not quite lonely, but he hadn’t taken his break-up with Alexander at all well; had, in fact, probably fucked most of London’s eligible queer men in toilets. Had, in fact, made rather a tabloid splash. It was fun in its own way, but he missed most laying with someone; Mary was good for drinks and idle gossip, but her strengths didn’t include much in the way of physical affection. He knew she probably would, if he asked - but he also knew that she fancied him, a hold-over from when they were teenagers, and didn’t want it to feel as though he were using her.
At least here, with the escort, he’d be paying. Quid pro quo.
So as embarrassing as it was, hiring an (shockingly expensive) escort to spoon him, he couldn’t bring himself against the idea. He wanted to go through with this. How entirely embarrassing, he thought to himself.
“Are you - from - ?” he began awkwardly, when the buzzer to the front door rang.
“Yeah,” was the succinct reply. Northern accent.
“Wonderful. I’ll let you through. I’m floor 4.”
The man gave a little noise of understanding and disappeared from the camera into the building, leaving Philip abuzz with anticipation. Nerves roiled in his stomach and he went to the drinks cart, pouring himself a shot of vodka and downing it in a go. He shivered a little at the taste, turning around when he heard the lift doors open.
He found himself doubly glad he hadn’t cancelled: the man was easily the most beautiful person Philip had ever seen, Hollywood be damned. He was in an expensive-looking peacoat, a scarf wrapped loosely around his neck; cheeks flushed pink at the cold. He smiled at Philip loosely as he began to unwrap the scarf from about himself.
“Where am I putting these?” He asked; Philip liked him immediately. There was something cheeky about him.
“There’s - I’ll put them in the closet for you,” he responded, coming over and receiving the man’s coat and scarf. “I’m Philip. I don’t know whether they told you.’
“They did, as it happens. Thanks, though. Thomas.”
“Do you use your real name for these things?” Philip asked, coming back from the closet to linger a little nearer Thomas.
“May as well. I know yours, you can know mine - you act up, it’s mutually-assured destruction. Which isn’t a threat, by the way: you don’t seem the sort to need to blackmail an escort,” he added. He raised his eyebrows and inhaled, looking over the flat. “This is a nice place.”
"I rather like it. Would you - like a drink?”
“Alright. Gin and tonic, if you have it,” he said. “Shall I sit down someplace in particular, or - “
“You can have a seat on the sofa and we can - discuss everything,” Philip said, glad to be fleeing the potential awkwardness as he mixed Thomas a gin and tonic and a straight vodka for himself. While Philip still had his back to Thomas began to talk to him.
“What is it you’re after, then? Sex, or - ?”
“No, no,” Philip said abruptly, as if it were outlandish for him to have sex with someone he’d only just met. “I just wanted you to - lay with me for a while. We can talk. Is that terribly strange?” He asked, unable to help himself.
“Not usual, but not the weirdest. Had one bloke call for me and then he had me cook dinner for his wife and leave before she got back,” Thomas said, smiling up at Philip when he was handed his drink. “Boyfriend troubles, then?”
“In that he was a cunt,” Philip said, taking a drink. He felt the first shot beginning to swim through his brain and he sighed quietly. “I fuck whatever moves, I don’t need to pay for that, but it might be odd if I insisted a one-night stand stay the night so I have someone to sleep next to.”
“Odder than calling an escort service for it? It’d be cheaper, at any rate,” Thomas said, one eyebrow raised. Philip gave a breathy little laugh.
“I don’t mind about the money. I just - honestly, I was drunk and terribly lonely when I booked this. Apparently drunk me thought that I needed something like this, so perhaps I do. I woke up with a site about cuddle parties as my homepage on my phone,” he said, feeling himself go flush. He wasn’t sure why he was telling Thomas this borderline pathetic story; he blamed the vodka.
“Christ, at least I’m professional,” Thomas said. He sat his drink down on the table and looked as if he were sizing Philip up. “Do you want kissing or anything like that?”
“No. Petting,” Philip responded, feeling suddenly very childish. He took another drink, watching the vodka sloshing around the glass rather than watch himself be possibly judged.
“Here?” Thomas asked, situating himself so that he sat facing Philip.
“In bed, I think. There’s a television in my room; we could put something on, if you’d like.”
“I think you’d rather the talking, so let’s just do that. You must have a few stories to tell; you were in a few of the papers, yeah?” Philip felt his entire face going red, which Thomas must have noticed, because he added, “You’re the sort for a good time. I can appreciate that.”
“Yes. Well, not terribly good, I don’t think. Otherwise we’d not be in this situation,” Philip said, drumming his fingers on his thighs. Thomas reached over and stilled one of his hands, slipping their fingers together.
"I won’t tell anyone; part of the job. Christ, I fucked Ant and Dec once and haven’t told a soul,” he said, grinning. Philip found himself regretting that he’d disallowed kissing as he laughed.
“We could - if you’d like, we could kiss.”
“You do have a nice mouth for it,” Thomas said easily, slipping his hand from Philip’s to his neck. His thumb was making little circles on his skin and Philip wanted to melt, wanted to marry. “Shall we go to the bedroom, now?”
“Yes,” Philip said, standing up quickly enough that he nearly knocked his table over. “It’s through here.”
He led Thomas to his bed and stood awkwardly beside it a moment, debating something in his head. He mentally shrugged and said, “Will you take your shirt off?”
“Sure,” he said, stripping off his sweater to reveal his bare chest. He was fairly hairy, which Philip wouldn’t have expected but thrilled at internally; he’d always loved running his fingers through Alexander’s chest hair. Shaking his head to rid himself of that line of thought, he took off his own; strange to be doing so without the sex, he thought.
"Come here,” Thomas said, extending an arm from where he sat on the bed. Philip joined him, sitting beside him, and couldn’t stop the sigh when Thomas ran his hand over his bare back and up, into his hair. Thomas turned him and kissed him softly, sweetly: easily the chastest kiss Philip had had in years. “Let’s lie down.”
The two of them stretched out, Philip settling himself on Thomas’s chest. He could hear his heartbeat as he was, could hear how steady it was and he had the mad Kafkaesque thought: I would like to live here. Thomas ran his hand through Philip’s hair once more, just softly stroking him, and he held Thomas a little tighter.
“You alright?” Thomas asked. Philip wasn’t entirely alright and was aware he was nearly on the verge of tears from the comfort. He’d missed this so terribly.
"I’m brilliant,” he murmured. He lifted his head slightly and placed a kiss on Thomas’s sternum before laying his head back there again. “Utterly brilliant.”
"I’m glad,” Thomas said, softly. As if he meant it.
“Can I request you again?” Philip asked; he heard Thomas’s heart speed up a tick and smiled.
“You can request me any time you’d like. This makes for a nice change of pace, actually. Handsome bloke, likeable - wants to cuddle a bit? I could do that for free. Not - I don’t mean - “
“I know,” Philip said, though he wished he didn’t. He wished that he had met Thomas accidentally, in a store or someplace like that; he could feel as certainly as he could feel his own body that he was going to throw himself far too into this. He ran his fingers through Thomas’s chest hair. “Would you tell me about yourself?”
And if you'd prefer a good old fashioned PWP prompt - caning or knifeplay, with Thomas on the receiving end.
Caning
“You know you won’t like it,” Philip said tentatively, gaze switching between Thomas’s face and the thin cane he held in his hand. He cut the air with it, the soft sound filling the room before it hit the duvet. He threw it onto the bed.
“Come get it, then,” Thomas said, inclining his head towards the cane. Philip rocked on his heels for a moment; he didn’t feel inclined to deny Thomas things, particularly not like this, but he also knew that Thomas was not at all one for pain. Accidental scratches, absent bites: these had been known to invoke days of grousing in the past; frankly, Philip was rather afraid of what this would invoke.
All the same, he went over to the edge of the bed where Thomas still stood and knelt on it, leaning forward to grab the cane from its centre. “You know you won’t,” he said again, shaking his head.
“So we do it the once this way and I’ll do you more strokes for hurting me,” Thomas said, smiling smugly. Philip wondered how much of that was the original idea versus his curiosity.
“Very well. Bend over,” he instructed with a sigh. Thomas leaned into the bed on his hands, moving his arse away from the edge. The position afforded Philip quite the spectacular view; he felt his cock twitch. “I’ll do it once, not very hard - then a proper one, if you’d like?”
“Go on,” Thomas said, ducking his head down.
Philip steadied himself a moment; he’d never hit anyone with the cane before and didn’t want to aim incorrectly. Before he could come to his senses, he hit Thomas on the flesh of his arse lightly; before he’d even spoken, Philip could feel the derision.
“I really hope that isn’t what you get to crying about,” Thomas goaded. Philip flushed, tapping the cane softly against his own thigh as he steadied himself once more. He drew his arm about his body, and brought it forward again with significantly more force, onto Thomas’s thighs. “Fucking hell!” Thomas straightened instantly, hands pressed over the curves of his thighs where a red stripe was blossoming. “Fucking hell,” he repeated, through gritted teeth.
Philip stared at him a moment, debating, before coming up behind him and sunk onto his knees. He pressed his mouth to Thomas’s fingers until his hand slid out from beneath Philip’s lips, letting him kiss and lick at the warm stripe.
“I told you you wouldn’t like it,” Philip murmured, smiling against Thomas’s thigh.
“I wanted to know how mad you were,” Thomas said. He leaned forward against the bed again, an invitation for more. Philip crept his kisses further up, spreading Thomas’s cheeks apart with his thumbs and slipping his tongue out to run over Thomas’s hole. Thomas gave a quiet hum of pleasure. “Quite mad. I don’t - mm, I don’t really mind.”
sending you number 20 for the 'things you said' thingy, and the ship is??? idk choose any thomas ship, tbh!
20. Things you said I wasn’t meant to hear.
This is day 2 of my Thomadvent.
“Have you ever loved someone Mr. Barrow?”
Thomas looks up from his newspaper to find a kitchen empty of everyone but himself, Daisy and two fresh cups of tea.
She pushes one towards him, “Well?”
“Sure I have ”, he takes a sip as she watches him expectantly, “my mother, two of my sisters. Not Madge though. ”
“That’s not what I meant! ”, then distracted, “ why not Madge?”
“That’s going to cost more than a cup o'tea Daisy. ”
She pulls a face and returns to her earlier question, “I mean have you ever been in love?”
“Been pining after you for a few years. ”
“Stop that!”
“Stop what?”
“Treating me like I’m stupid. I’m not you know. I..“she watches him warily “I know, even if Mrs Patmore thinks I don’t. ”
There’s an uncomfortable pause. He keeps his face carefully blank. She twists her hands in her lap, takes a deep breath, continues in a small voice “I..people say. .someone told me that. .it’s not really love. Not the way it’s between a man and a woman. It’s just a shadow, like a Punch and Judy. Shallow.”
He thinks of cool, crisp Philip with his soft hands, Philip who could never lie properly even when he ended their love as though he were snapping the neck of some small, delicate bird. Philip who hadn’t quite managed to keep the pain off his face as he said his cruel farewells. He thinks of Edward, broken by his family, blinded by the war and abandoned by his country. Sweet, kind Edward who’d slit his own wrists in the face of this triple betrayal. He thinks of Jimmy,bold, bright golden Jimmy who smiled like the sun coming out. Jimmy who,though he could be so heartlessly thoughtless, had never hurt Thomas as he had hurt him. Jimmy who,despite that betrayal had given him everything he could.
He looks up at Daisy,watching him half afraid and half hopeful before ducking his head to take another sip and to hide his suddenly moist eyes.
“No.”, he says hoarsely, “it’s not false. The way it hurts it had damned well better be the real thing.”
“But how do you know?”
“Well have you ever been in love?”
“I think so”, she hesitated “once.”
“What did it feel like? ”
“Oh”, her face brightens,“ like when you finally manage to solve a sum you’ve been working on for hours. It’s like everything suddenly makes sense. Like the first bite of freshly baked bread. Like you missed a step on the stairs and fell into a nicer world.”
“Well that’s not exactly how the poets say it is but sounds about right. Which one of your swains inspired that?”
She hesitates. Fidgets. Looks away.
Realisation dawns.
“Daisy,” gently “was it a woman?”
She looks up at him,then down at her lap. Nods. Bursts into tears.
He watches helplessly as she sobs, mutters “It’ll be all right” Gets up to make her a fresh cup, thankful that unlike Mr Carson he can navigate a kitchen.
Sits down next to her and gently puts his arm around her shoulders. She turns and buries her face in his chest, chokes out ” I didn’t know who else to ask.“
“Let it out first Daisy, you’ll feel better.”
This isn’t something he does or knows how to. He doesn’t know how to be a comfort but he does know what it feels like to be terrified of yourself, of prison, of hell. He decides Daisy won’t go through that, at least not alone. His arm tightens around her shoulders as though she were him at twelve, nineteen, twenty five, now. He’ll give her what he didn’t have.
He’ll be someone who understands.
She quitens, turns away. Apologises.
“Daisy”, he searches for some sort of reassurance and comes up empty, “it’s not going to go away. It’s not going to be easy. People will call you all sorts of things.”
“Cor you’re bad at this. ”
He scowls, “You keep your head up high Daisy. You’re different, not broken. You’re not foul so you don’t let anyone tell you different. You”, he draws himself up,“ are a champion! ”
She laughs weakly, which is something he supposes.
“So,who is it?” He thinks of soft, gentle, cruel Philip and hopes it’s not anyone upstairs.
She looks away, flushes, “Miss Bunting.”
He thinks back. Laughs. “No wonder you were so studious.”
“Shut up! I liked learning and she’s wonderful. ”Blushes harder. “She asked me to join her new school as a junior teacher. I can continue studying while I work. ”
“You think she fancies you? ”
“I don’t know. Maybe. I fell asleep once when we were studying together and I think she said. ..” she trails off looking wistful.
He waits. She doesn’t tell him what Sarah Bunting said.
“Will you go?”
“You think I should chuck everything in case she fancies me? ”
“I think you should chuck everything for a better job. Where you can improve. Everything else is extra. ”
“I suppose. What about you,Mr Barrow? ”
He shrugs, “I’d go if something came up. ”
“If I go,will you write to me?”
He strikes a dramatic pose, “Every hour. ”
She laughs then yawns. Kisses him goodnight.
Leaves him in the kitchen alone, yet somehow less lonely.
