Notes: this chapter is rated NC-17, so if you're a kiddie skip this one please!

For a long time they stood there, watching the flames consume the box and its contents. When Thomas heard the glass inside shatter like tiny fireworks, hissing and popping, he felt a curiously strong surge of mingled relief and victory. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back to rest against Jimmy's shoulder, smiling faintly to himself. Jimmy shifted to accommodate him, his plush lips brushing Thomas's ear. Even in the heat Thomas felt the warmth of his breath over his skin, and shivered.

That little shiver seemed to signal something to Jimmy, because he let go gradually and stepped back.

Thomas turned to look at him. It was fully dark outside now, he realized. The only light came from the fire, and the one electric lamp in the corner.

Jimmy cleared his throat, his cheeks faintly pink. "You're still ill," he said. "You should sit down— I can get us tea and something to eat, if you'd like. Food's nothing like Patmore's, but it'll do."

Thomas shook his head, slowly. He didn't feel ill at all anymore. In fact, he felt very strong suddenly. And he wasn't hungry.

Jimmy licked his lips, his eyes flickering over Thomas, and that was all it took. Thomas reached for him and Jimmy met him halfway, and finally they were back in each other's arms, kissing.

The kisses were soft at first, a little clumsy and hesitant on both sides. Thomas was afraid of how much he felt for Jimmy and what he might do to him if he lost his head, and so he kept a tight hold on himself, kept everything soft and gentle. Jimmy seemed equally bound, by what, Thomas didn't know.

After a time he dared to pull Jimmy closer, and Jimmy's hands came up to cup Thomas's jaw, draw him closer in return. This kiss lasted longer than the others, neither of them parting to breathe. Unexpectedly Jimmy opened Thomas's mouth with a slow slide of tongue, deepening the kiss. Thomas's knees shook beneath him in response.

It was meant to be kissing only, but after that the kisses grew longer and deeper, too intense.

And it hurt, Thomas thought distantly, to feel so much heat after being so cold—he'd honestly believed he'd never have this. Never be himself again, never have love or desire, never have Jimmy at all.

But now he did have him. And Jimmy had helped him, had helped give Thomas back to himself.

And Thomas loved him so much already, and loved him still more for that, so very very much—-that hurt, too.

So he let go and kissed Jimmy with all the passion he'd been holding back. He nipped at Jimmy's soft lips until he shuddered and gasped in his arms. Then he pressed in deftly and took Jimmy's tongue in his mouth, stroking it, sucking on it until Jimmy made a sound that goaded Thomas beyond bearing. The way he fit against Thomas's body, the way he smelled of smoke and sweat and tasted of tart berries— nothing had ever felt so right, not ever. And Jimmy was pressing closer, wanting more, and Thomas couldn't deny him.

Before he could remember exactly where the bed was, Jimmy shocked him by tearing his mouth away, flushed and glassy-eyed. He said something roughly, maybe Thomas's name and a curse, and then he was pulling Thomas's collar aside to kiss his neck. His tongue was slick and soft against Thomas's skin, his teeth sharp. Thomas felt the world tilt sideways, but through the red haze in his brain he saw the bed and began to push Jimmy towards it.

Jimmy allowed himself to be led, and when the back of his knees hit the edge of the mattress he finally released Thomas's throat and pulled Thomas down with him. They landed awkwardly, knees and elbows colliding, but they both ignored the hurt, and kept on kissing feverishly.

"Thought you wanted to court, first," Jimmy confessed in the middle of it. Even as he spoke he scattered more kisses over Thomas's face and neck, his hands fumbling to pull off Thomas's tie.

Thomas laughed, breathless. "We still can, after," he promised.

Just don't stop, please, don't stop.

At some point Jimmy had gotten his hands up under Thomas's shirts, and Thomas shivered and groaned when his nails raked his skin. In retaliation Thomas found Jimmy's bottom and gripped it in both hands, the feel of him exquisite. It was all too much, but still not enough.

So Thomas sat up after a bit and dragged Jimmy's shirt over his head. Then he did what Jimmy had done to him, taking his neck in his mouth and tasting his skin. He touched him, too, running his hands up and down Jimmy's sides, brushing his thumbs over his nipples in gentle passes. He heard Jimmy swear again, felt him writhe beneath him, and then suddenly he was rolling Thomas over with surprising strength, pinning him down to the mattress with both hands on his chest. Frantically he began to tear at Thomas's shirt buttons without much success. Thomas tried to help him, but Jimmy pushed his hands away and fairly split the shirt down the middle, sending buttons scattering to the floor. Thomas felt another flicker of hilarity at that, but he couldn't laugh this time because Jimmy had shifted his hips and Thomas could feel the hard length of him against his leg, even through both their clothes. His brain stopped and ticked over, his own cock aching at just the thought of Jimmy's, hard for him.

Desperate to get him naked, Thomas gripped his hips and pushed him onto his back again. His hands found Jimmy's trouser-buttons easily, his heart racing, but with a great effort he made himself stop for a moment and look at Jimmy's face. He had to be sure, first.

"Are you—"

"Yes!"

Well, then.

So Thomas pulled Jimmy's remaining clothes off, and stopped again, this time to stare.

Jimmy shifted under the scrutiny, chewing his lip, but Thomas couldn't stop looking once he'd started. Jimmy was beautiful, glorious, bloody sublime— his skin was glowing in the low light, his lean muscles glistening with a fine sheen of sweat. The elegant breadth of his shoulders and chest, his tight brown nipples, the flat plane of his belly over his thick cock, the muscular thighs and legs bent at the knees, all of him, bare, was more beautiful than even Thomas had imagined.

And Jimmy was looking at him, too. His face was full of want yet his eyes were anxious and vulnerable. And that was somehow… too much. Thomas had to cover his eyes with his hand, as if the sight of Jimmy might burn him. He realized as he sucked in a sharp breath that he'd forgotten to breathe somewhere in the looking.

"Thomas?" Jimmy asked, sounding alarmed. "What's wrong?"

Thomas just shook his head silently, feeling the sudden burn of tears in his eyes. He was being ridiculous, he was scaring Jimmy, but— but he'd only just realized the magnitude of what he might have lost, had he somehow been successful in his endeavor. 'Choose Your Own Path'… I am! Thomas wanted to shout. The realization was accompanied by a painful surge of joy, one that almost crushed him under the weight of it. I am choosing my own path, I do choose it, and I'll never regret myself again, or regret him or this. Even if he gets up and leaves me right now— even if I go to prison—

"Thomas?"

I am who I am.

"Sorry," he managed foolishly, through the tears. "Nothing's wrong, you're just so beautiful, Jimmy."

He sounded like an overly-sentimental fool and he knew it, but he didn't know how else to explain everything that had just come over him.

Jimmy sat up and touched his hair, softly, questioningly.

"I'm alright," Thomas insisted again. "I'm alright, only—"

There were so many ways he could end that sentence, and all of them would be true. In the end he settled for, "Only it… hurts, to be so happy, when I never thought I would be."

And I never thought you would love me back. But you do, you really do.

Jimmy's hand stroked his hair again, then he went to Thomas and held him close, kissing his shoulder tenderly.

Thomas was still too overwhelmed to be truly embarrassed, so he hugged Jimmy back and tried to ignore, for the moment, the fact that he was still partially aroused. Instead he focused on breathing, on riding out the tide until it receded.

Mercifully the tears and trembling came to an end some minutes later, and he settled quietly into Jimmy's embrace, curiously exhausted, but peaceful.

"Better?" Jimmy asked, so uncharacteristically kind that it made Thomas huff in surprised amusement.

"Yes," he mumbled.

Good lord… what fantastic timing he had. Damn it all to hell, what must Jimmy think of him now?

"You're sweet, you know," Jimmy said suddenly, a grin in his voice.

Thomas snorted, shaking his head emphatically. No one had ever called him sweet before, not even his parents.

"No, you are," Jimmy insisted, squeezing him tighter. "Sod what anyone else thinks. They don't know you. You're kind to me, even when you're hurt. Even when I'm cruel to you. And you love me like— you're like— a bloody noble prince from a fairy story."

Thomas shook his head again, wondering if Jimmy had lost his mind. "But I wasn't when we first met," he reminded Jimmy. "And I was very cruel to you last night."

Jimmy shrugged. "Maybe, a little."

"I'm sorry," Thomas said, pulling away finally to look at Jimmy. He wiped again at his eyes, wishing his revelation had come at a more opportune moment, instead of when they'd been so close to… Jimmy was probably put off now.

"It's alright," Jimmy mumbled, dropping his eyes when their eyes met.

For a moment Thomas feared he actually wasn't forgiven, but then he noticed the red in Jimmy's cheeks, and the way Jimmy had subtly shifted the blanket to cover himself. He was embarrassed, too, Thomas realized. He was naked while Thomas was not. And even the blanket couldn't quite hide his erection, which had not flagged overmuch during their embrace. Thomas felt his own, less youthful body respond again, now that the storm had passed.

"And I'm sorry, too, Thomas," Jimmy said with more conviction, looking up at him with that familiar, firm-mouthed expression that meant he was being very, very brave. "I have so much more to apologize for and I know it. But I do love you. I— I don't want you to ever doubt it."

Thomas swallowed, his heart thumping. "I won't."

They stared at each other.

Jimmy was the first to look away again, his face now redder than ever. He made as if to get out of the bed but Thomas stopped him, grabbing his wrist instinctively.

"Wait, where are you going?"

"Ah, well," Jimmy said awkwardly. "I thought you didn't… want to, right now," he cleared his throat. "It's alright, um, we don't have to—"

Thomas did laugh, then, though he was startled to find he was blushing, too, like the innocent schoolboy he'd never been.

"No, I do— I do want you, Jimmy," he said, shocked that it was even a question. "But if you don't want…we can stop. I don't mind."

Because it occurred to him too late that he'd been very enthusiastic with Jimmy earlier. He hadn't even asked him until they were already in bed if it were what he wanted just then. Jimmy had never been with a man before, after all, and it was all very sudden, to go from friends to nothing for months, and then to lovers in one go… that would be difficult, even for someone who hadn't struggled with himself for years, and been so lost. Thomas shouldn't have been so thoughtless, especially not with the man he loved.

But Jimmy surprised him again. At Thomas's words he looked at him as if he were barking mad and said: "Christ, Thomas, don't be stupid—" and then leaned across the bed to kiss Thomas, hard, on the mouth.

When he pulled back to glance uneasily into Thomas's face, Thomas smiled at him and took his hand in his, pressing a kiss to the back of it as Jimmy had done to him the night before.

"Come here, then," he said.

Jimmy shivered but did as he was bid, letting the blanket fall from his waist before sliding back into Thomas's arms. They kissed, lightly.

When Jimmy picked at his ruined shirt a few moments later, Thomas obliged him by shrugging out of it and dropping it to the floor, along with his undershirt. He was gratified to see Jimmy's eyes widen in reaction, and the feeling only grew stronger when Jimmy ran his fingers through the hair on his chest, shyly and with wonder.

Thomas let him stroke and explore for as long as he could stand it, then he laid Jimmy down on the bed and kissed him sweetly, slowly building the intensity. He was determined this time not to let things get out of hand. He wanted to treat Jimmy right, make it perfect, memorize every detail…

But it soon became obvious Jimmy had not agreed to this plan; the gentler Thomas touched him, the harder Jimmy resisted him, trying to turn the slow kisses into hard, hungry ones. His hands were over-eager, too, alternately sweeping over Thomas's skin in scorching passes, or finding a hold on his hips, his shoulders, his hair, and gripping tight enough to bruise. It was maddening. Thomas quickly found himself battling Jimmy for Jimmy, trying to control his mouth and hands, slow him down, before Jimmy broke the tenuous hold he had on himself, too.

Unconsciously he moved his body over Jimmy's to pin him down. But this only seemed to inflame Jimmy further, making him writhe and groan into the kisses, his renewed erection pushing up into Thomas's thigh.

"Thomas," Jimmy hissed in frustration. "Please, just, just—" and his hands found the clasps on Thomas's trousers, pulling at them with his nails. "Take these off and touch me. God, I can't— you don't know how I— ah, dreamed about this—"

Thomas shuddered, his body hardening further at Jimmy's words. But he didn't obey his request, not yet, not when he might still manage some restraint with them on. So instead he bent to taste the sweat in the crook of Jimmy's elbow, making him gasp in unexpected pleasure as his tongue traced the sensitive vein. He kissed him there, too, swirling his tongue and sucking gently. Then he found Jimmy's left nipple and gave it the same treatment, ending with a pulling, sucking bite that made Jimmy hiss.

Finally he reached down and drew Jimmy's hand to his lips, sucking on the strong musicians fingers that he'd wanted on his body for years, and now felt the marks of in his skin. This more than anything else seemed to overwhelm Jimmy; he moaned louder and louder the longer Thomas sucked and licked between his fingers, until Thomas was forced to stop lest the whole village hear him.

To silence him, Thomas returned to kissing Jimmy's lush mouth. But Jimmy only kissed him back for a moment or two before tearing his lips away again. Breathing hard, he dropped his head to tongue at the base of Thomas's throat. Thomas groaned and swore softly, trying without conviction to pull him off by the hair. But Jimmy only whimpered in response to the effort and resisted, his hands finding Thomas's bottom and squeezing too-tightly. Then, never stopping the hard sucking pulls at his throat, he forced Thomas's body down into him while he pressed upwards, his trembling hips meeting Thomas's with burning pressure. Even through his trousers Thomas could feel how hot and swollen Jimmy's cock was, and his own jumped and pulsed in sympathy.

Moments later Jimmy turned that pressure into a clumsy, thrusting rhythm, his thighs tightening around Thomas's waist, Thomas groaned and began returning his thrusts, shocked by how close he was to the edge. He watched Jimmy's face beneath his, entranced, until Jimmy began pleading with him to please please take off your trousers, Thomas, I can't I can't—

Dizzy, Thomas rolled over onto his back and yanked at his tight trousers until they released him. Beside him he heard Jimmy gasp something, but he couldn't hear it clearly past the roaring of his blood in his ears.

"Jimmy," he groaned at the ceiling. He said the name aloud more for himself than for Jimmy, to try to rein himself in and anchor what was left of his sanity. First time, first time, it's his first time with a man, first time with you, he chanted to himself. He couldn't just roll on top of him and take what he wanted— without some kind of care. But he'd never been someone else's first before so he wasn't sure what to say or do, and his first lover hadn't been much good, and oh, god, he really couldn't take much more of this. His plan and his control had so quickly crumbled in the face of Jimmy's ferocity that at this point he was willing to follow his lead instead, should he take it—

"Jimmy, tell me what you want," he pleaded. He could do it then, he thought, he could be careful if Jimmy told him what to do.

But Jimmy didn't answer for a long, long minute; all Thomas could hear was his hard breathing and the crackling of the fire in the grate. Bracing himself, Thomas turned his head to look at him.

Ah, that was a mistake.

Jimmy was too beautiful like this, flushed and glassy-eyed and biting his swollen lip again, his hand fisting his dripping cock but not stroking it. The head of it looked obscenely red above Jimmy's paler fingers, the ones Thomas had sucked. Again Thomas felt a stab of lust so acute it was near pain.

"Tell me, darling, and I'll do it, whatever it is," he said, his voice almost unrecognizable.

Jimmy's hand did move a little at that, just a few involuntary pulls that had his face twisting in pleasure. Thomas couldn't stop his own hand from gripping himself after seeing that, his mouth falling open helplessly.

"But I don't know," Jimmy confessed, agonized. "I don't know anything about it, not really, I don't know how—"

"Yes you do," Thomas breathed. "You know more than you think, and the rest I'll show you, I promise."

Jimmy squeezed his eyes shut, his hand forcing itself to still. "Bloody Christ, Thomas…"

"Tell me."

Jimmy's hand moved again. "I want you— I want you to do whatever you want to me. Whatever you want the most."

If Thomas hadn't been so painfully, overwhelmingly aroused, he would have laughed. But as it was all he could manage was a huffing gasp as his cock throbbed in his hand.

"I can't— because I want to do everything to you, I always have—"

Jimmy moaned and rolled to face him, his hand now stroking himself in firm pulls.

"Tell me," Jimmy begged.

Thomas's hand was moving now to match Jimmy's unsteady rhythm, and it was frightening how good it felt.

"T-tell you what?"

Jimmy's hand was so tight around his prick it looked painful, Thomas thought. And he couldn't decide which was a better view— Jimmy's hand around his wet cock or his face, lips red and pupils blown, his expression one of shattering need. Thomas could come just looking at him like this, was about to if he didn't hold on—

"H-how you do it, what we could do together, tell me what we'll do—"

Thomas felt blind with lust and his own pleasure, his prick huge and aching as he stroked himself. But somehow he made himself talk, because it was what Jimmy wanted.

"We could bring each other off with our hands, like this—" Thomas let go of himself and pushed Jimmy's hand aside to stroke him instead, the wetness on his palm mixing with Jimmy's.

Jimmy's hips bucked into his fist at the first touch, but Thomas let go almost immediately. "Or we could push into each other, against each other, like we did before."

Jimmy whimpered but did not touch himself again. He just lay there and stared at Thomas, panting, his cock heavy and leaking onto his belly. So Thomas kept talking.

"I could put my mouth on you, all over and inside you. You could do it to me, too."

Jimmy's entire body shuddered and arched, his face twisting, and for a mad second Thomas thought he might come untouched. But then he settled back down, his entire body shaking and breathless, shining with sweat. It would be too cruel, Thomas thought faintly, awed by what he'd just seen. Even if he could do it, it would be too cruel for a first time. So Thomas took Jimmy's shaking body into his arms and put his hand around him again, his touch gentle on the molten weight of him. He kissed Jimmy's mouth and stroked him firmly and told him to come on him, that it was alright and that he wanted to feel it on his skin. Jimmy cried and gave a little shout at that, his body twisting helplessly. Then his come was sudden and white-hot across Thomas's thighs and groin.

And that was all it took for Thomas— even as Jimmy fell limp into his body, stunned and trembling with aftershocks, Thomas was coming, too, the sight and feeling of Jimmy's pleasure too much to bear.

Thomas just made it back to Downton before the sun rose, wearing one of Jimmy's shirts under his jacket. His own, damaged shirt, was confiscated by Jimmy and stowed in his trunk. For what purpose Thomas wasn't sure, though judging by Jimmy's face he guessed it was for sentimental reasons. Which was delightful in at least ten different ways.

In fact, Thomas was so happy he felt drunk, or as if he had a miniature sun glowing in his chest now, instead of a heart.

From now on it were he and Jimmy together, against the world— Jimmy had told him so, after they'd woken up in each other's arms. Thomas had only to hand in his notice, pack his things, say his goodbyes, and he and Jimmy would be gone. Neither of them needed Downton anymore. They weren't sure yet where they'd go, or what they'd do— but between the two of them they had enough money saved to take their time, if they were very careful. Thomas wasn't even frightened, for the first time in perhaps his whole life. Because together they were stronger. And cleverer than they were apart. He knew it better than he knew clocks.

They might go to America, get jobs at a fancy hotel. Or they could stay in England, move into the city and open a shop. Or they might travel to the continent, disappear into France or Spain or the somewhere on the Mediterranean. Wherever they went, whatever they did, Thomas couldn't wait to start.

Together— fully themselves, and fully alive.

~The End~