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‘I’m here. You be whatever you like.’ Said Janek. He took light hold of Thomas’s upper arms and looked up at him unwavering.

- Not like the Other by dendriticgold

Ugh, finally! :D The quote above happens a bit earlier in chapter 11 than the scene shown in the image but I like it so much I had to use it.

I guess my apology for this is that I haven’t drawn anything in years and this is the first time I did digital colouring and it’s haaard! And those blasted braided ship ropes! *shakes fist* Janek was difficult to draw as well because I have a clear image of him in my mind that wouldn’t really end up exactely like that on paper. I guess everyone reading the story got a bit of a different idea of him anyway. :) I hope his hair is long enough. Luckily it would have been all sooty so it’s just some undefined colour, haha. It’s a bit less nsfw than in the story.

I’ll try to get more practice and improve with the next drawings. This wonderful story provides so many amazing scenes for inspiration (thank you so much for writing it, dendriticgold!) and I want to try some Parkbarrow as well. :D

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The touch of Peter's hand to his chin settles Thomas in some undefinable way. There are very few people in the whole world that he would let touch him like that, with a touch of control and coaxing. But from Peter, it's more welcome than an extra pudding at dinner or a Christmas bonus. Peter guides Thomas back to him, effortlessly, and Thomas follows without a moment's thought or hesitation.

"I think ya know I'm adamantly in favor of anythin' that causes Molesley discomfort," Thomas says wryly. He's grinning like an idiot from their kiss, from the daily renewed miracle that is his little life with Peter.

"But we can't take an ad out in the society pages," he teases, lowering his head to nip at Peter's jaw.

"An' so I hope that this will be enough for ya, at least until we have enough put by to strike out on our own."

Thomas lowers his lips to Peter's neck and sucks tenderly on the sensitive skin he finds there.

"You do make me happy; how could you think otherwise?”

Peter frowns, leading Thomas further back around the house until he’s fairly certain that no one will see them. He removes the cigarette from Thomas’s mouth, flicking it away; “It’s just the rest of it that gets a bit hard, really; an’ it’s hard because I love you, too, an’ I don’t see why we shouldn’t be able to go about things like everyone else. Usually it doesn’t bother me, much; but when you aren’t about, I feel it a bit more, that’s all.”

Peter reaches to cup Thomas’s chin before leaning in to kiss him. “…Just wish I could go on about ya, same as Mr Molesley goes on about Miss Baxter. If he’s got the right to make me sick, I ought to be able to return the favor, yeah?”

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x

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"I love you," Thomas says with an uncharacteristic lack of wit, because, really, what else is he to say after a kiss like that? It wasn't so much a kiss as it was a kind of coming home—the instant his lips met Peter's, his eyes slid shut and he gave himself fully to Peter in an act of sweet submission.

His eyes flutter open and he looks a bit gobsmacked at Peter's remark.

"It feels like the end of everything when I can't make ya happy,' Thomas says plaintively.

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Thomas stays silent for a few moments, and then reaches out to pluck the cigarette from Peter's lips. He can't stand to quarrel with Peter, not when they've already got to fight the world. They oughtn't to fight each other as well.

"Kiss me, then, an' we'll forget the whole sorry business," he says, the cigarette hanging loosely between his fingers.

"An’ with well reason, Thomas, but it doesn’t matter.”

Peter sighs, settling a cigarette between his lips; “…an’ you’re bloody one to talk about bein’ in a snit,” he murmurs, lighting the end. “You’ve been cross ever since you came out here.”

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"If ya say so, darlin' - I'd like to think I know ya better than that, though. Never let it be said that I don't know when my boy's in a snit."

"Oh come off it; it’d be a bit weird if one of the hallboys were sat there grinning at you all moony-eyed, wouldn’t it?

"I’m only doing what I’ve got to do, so we can keep on as we are with little to worry about…"

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"You've been cross with me ever since New Year's Even, when I weren't there to kiss ya. Now I never see ya smile unless it's at Nick."

"I haven’t got the mind to blame ya for a bloody thing, Thomas…I just don’t understand what you’re going on about."

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"It doesn't take much to set ya broodin' these days, love, but if you'd rather blame me for it, I won't stop ya."

"Forget I mentioned it. There’s no reason to ruin that pretty smile, is there?"

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"Forget I mentioned it. There's no reason to ruin that pretty smile, is there?"

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"…Thomas…"

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Sometimes no matter what you do, it's just not bloody enough, is it?

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"Happy Christmas, Thomas. I love you so bloody much, you know that?"

Thomas smiles so bloody hard it hurts, because yes, he does know that. Peter shows him every day how much he loves him, and Thomas will never again have that gnawing ache inside that comes from being unloved and unhappy.

"You are my whole world," he says simply, cupping Peter’s face with his good hand. His thumb traces that enticing divot in Peter’s chin.

"Happy Christmas, my beautiful, darling boy."

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Heeeey! I got your card! It's so beautiful

Awww, sorry it got broken. Well, I tried lol. Glad you like it!

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Thomas kissing Peter’s neck by the moonlight~

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"He can come back, if ya like," Thomas growls into Peter's skin, gripping Peter's arse and lifting his hips. He makes a sound in his throat, one of pleasure or predatory anticipation. But then Peter's suggesting he'll have to wait to 'open him up,' and Thomas frowns.

He snorts.

"There's no surprise, my boy. I know what ya feel like, look like, taste like, in every possible moment of pleasure. Now ya wouldn't want to deny your Thomas his share of that pleasure, would ya? An' I've been so good this year..." he teases darkly as he kisses along Peter's shoulder.

“You’re soppy tonight,” he murmurs against Thomas’s neck, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to that strong and steady pulse. “What’s it I’ve done? What’s happened…where’d my defiant, ill-tempered Mr Barrow go, hmm?”

He laughs a bit breathlessly, raking his teeth along the flesh of Thomas’s neck as strong fingers find the flesh of his hips, press into his back; as he moves to kiss down the expanse of Thomas’s throat, Peter finds g himself wondering why everyone thought Thomas so unpleasant, when he could hardly think of anyone more beautiful.

It was likely that they’d never given Thomas a chance; just as it was likely they never bloody would.

But it was no matter, not really, because their insolence meant more of this Thomas for himself; and if Peter was honest with himself, he was absolutely selfish for it, greedy. He wasn’t keen on sharing much of anything, let alone Thomas.

His Thomas.

“Does this mean I haven’t got to buy you anything for Christmas, then?” he asks, hands gliding over towards Thomas’s sides and then down to his hips; “…if so, I’m thinking you ought to wait a bit before openin’ me up…wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise, now would we?”

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