Capt. Homer Jackson (
thirstforvice) wrote2015-01-06 09:37 pm
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Easy like Sunday morning
Matthew wakes once during the night. He's rolled away from Bennet in his sleep, and when his leg wakes him he is cold and alone and for one awful moment he thinks he is back in the asylum; that everything about Bennet had just been a dream.
But no - the bed is too large, too comfortable, and he is not wearing that awful starched outfit all the patients were forced into. Turning, he sees his lover splayed out next to him, looking peaceful and content in his slumber, and his anxiety dissipates. It was no dream.
Still, that doesn't stop the ache in his leg, nor the desperate itch deep down inside of him. He scrabbles for the laudanum bottle without thinking, gulping it down like water until the pain dulls and his eyes grow heavy once more. When he next wakes, the bedroom is bathed in early morning sunlight.
It's like so many other mornings, weekends or days off where neither of them have anywhere to be, and they've always started the same way. Reminding himself that Bennet has already seen him naked, held him in the bath and kissed him breathless, Matthew tries not to feel too much like he's taking advantage as he cuddles in to his lover and slowly kisses him awake.
But no - the bed is too large, too comfortable, and he is not wearing that awful starched outfit all the patients were forced into. Turning, he sees his lover splayed out next to him, looking peaceful and content in his slumber, and his anxiety dissipates. It was no dream.
Still, that doesn't stop the ache in his leg, nor the desperate itch deep down inside of him. He scrabbles for the laudanum bottle without thinking, gulping it down like water until the pain dulls and his eyes grow heavy once more. When he next wakes, the bedroom is bathed in early morning sunlight.
It's like so many other mornings, weekends or days off where neither of them have anywhere to be, and they've always started the same way. Reminding himself that Bennet has already seen him naked, held him in the bath and kissed him breathless, Matthew tries not to feel too much like he's taking advantage as he cuddles in to his lover and slowly kisses him awake.
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Bennet deepens the kiss and draws him close and it's only then that he remembers that he is not entirely himself.
"Mornin'," he mumbles against his lover's lips.
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And so he runs one hand slowly over his lover's chest.
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He lifts that same hand and presses a kiss to the tips of Matthew's fingers.
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Ducking his head, he presses his lips to the older man's neck, teeth teasing ever-so-slightly at the skin there.
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He hovers above him, eyes looking his lover over eagerly.
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"Seen something you like?" he teases instead, light-hearted and grinning goofily.
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"You tell me now, what you want," he says, between kisses. "Everything you want."
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"You," his answer is simple, reaching around his lover's back to pull him flush against his own naked body. "I want you every which way you can imagine it."
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"I've been doing a lot of imaginin' since last night," he confesses.
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Staying in their bed for seven days sounds perfect right now.
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His mind is filled with sensation, the memory of a hundred such touches flooding back in, and he gasps with the feeling of it.
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"You always treat me like I'm porcelain," he chides. "I'm sturdier than I look."
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"Anything else you need? You just have t'say."
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"I don't need nothin' but you, darlin'."
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"I don't...I don't hurt you, do I?"
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"You'd never do such a thing. I know you wouldn't."
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"Then you'll let me make sure you're not hurtin'."
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"Fine. But I'm not hurtin', I swear it."
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"And I would keep it that way."
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"Please," he begs when he is settled once more. "Benny, please..."
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