10:00 am, Sunday Morning
by Miss Molly, Etc

10:00 am, Sunday Morning

by Miss Molly, Etc

He'd slept through the alarm Sam insisted on setting everyday, week or weekend. He'd even slept through Sam's traditional shower and operatic rendition of "Touring," but the light streaming in past the curtains, directly onto his face, was what finally did him in. Usually, Tom wasn't a slug-a-bed, but today the sheets were cool, and the blankets just warm enough and... he frowned, sliding his hand flat along the mattress. He gripped the pillow next to him and dragged it under his arm, grumbling as a soft laugh trickled into his ears.

"Missing something?" Sam asked.

Tom could hear him moving around the room, kicking clothes and books out of the way.

"Ywm," he said, turning his face into the pillow.

Sam laughed harder. "Maybe you could say that again? In English this time?"

Tom lifted his head an inch from the pillow. "Come back to bed."

"Can't, love, you're hogging all the bedclothes."

"Stop playing silly buggers." With an enormous effort, Tom twisted onto his back and lay flat, blinking myopically at the ceiling.

"There he is."

Suddenly, Sam's face swung into view, close enough that the tips of his long braids dangled into Tom's face. Dark brown eyes smiled down at him from an excited face.

Tom shook his head and tried to bat the hair away. "It's Sunday," he said, tugging on one plait.

Sam plucked his braid out of Tom's fingers and disappeared from view. Tom pushed himself up to lean against the headboard. He let the blanket pool around his waist.

To his dismay, he saw that Sam was dressed and ready. He watched as Sam settled the black frock coat around his lean frame, buttoning it all the way to hide the deep green embroidered vest and white shirt.

"You look like one of them Baptists," he said, letting his head thunk against the wall.

Sam snorted. "Well, it's Sunday after all."

"Thought you were C of E."

"That's right, Church of Elvis 'til me dying day."

The flash of silver stud in Sam's mouth briefly distracted him, but as Sam turned to look for the rest of his things, Tom laughed and let his eyes close. "Well, wouldn't want to disappoint the king, then."

"Hey, keep awake... don't you want to kiss me good bye?"

He opened his eyes. Sam picked up his neck cloth and began winding it around his throat, tying the ends neatly and making sure his braids were still held together out of his face. He tugged the cuffs of his sleeves out from the jacket so that the slightly frilled ends lay over his hands. The small silver rings lining the rims of his ears caught the light from the window.

Tom swallowed. "Would rather just kiss you," he said. He slid back down onto the mattress as Sam walked forward.

Sam straddled Tom's shins, gripping his hips, he yanked upwards.

"Whoa!" Tom's hips came off the bed, pushing his upper body into the mattress and forcing his chin to meet his chest. "What the hell - "

Sam let go abruptly and Tom fell back to the bed. He struggled on to his elbows and stared at Sam.

"What the bloody hell'd you do that for?" Tom sat up.

Sam bit his lip and looked off to the side. "Was trying to get you to sit up."

"By wrenching me into a pretzel?!"

Sam shrugged. "Saw it in a movie," he said.

He placed his arms around Sam's neck. "In a movie."

Sam nodded.

He buried his face into Sam's neck, nudging the cloth aside, and began to snicker. "...in a movie!"

Slowly, Sam began to laugh as well, wrapping his arms around Tom's back and holding him close. He felt a kiss pressed among the haphazard spikes of his hair.

Tom leaned backwards, biting the earlobe in front of him, and sucking briefly. He felt Sam shudder. Letting go, Tom let gravity take them both down to the bed, feeling Sam's weight along his body.

He kissed the side of his head, tracing his lips along the hairline to his temples. "I don't have to go into the workshop today," he said.

Sam kissed him, tracing the line of his lips with the tip of his tongue and teasing his bottom lip with soft pulls. Tom deepened the kiss, opening his mouth and letting his hand tangle in the long braids. He felt the blanket move as Sam's legs skimmed alongside his own.

Slowly, achingly slowly, Sam drew away from the kiss to look Tom in the eyes. "I have to go to work," he said.

Tom licked his lips, watching as Sam followed the path of his tongue. "Call in sick," he said.

"Your sister would kill me."

"Riza'd understand."

"Not on opening day, she wouldn't."

"Who opens anything on a Sunday?"

"Nightclub owners with a fine sense of irony?"

He sighed, rubbing his hands along the length of Sam's arms. "You're just going in early to check the stock... club doesn't open for hours..."

"But I'm a partner now, aren't I? Have to set a good example for the staff."

Tom pushed upwards, catching Sam off guard and flipping them over. "They why you're all dressed up like a dandy, then?"

"Thought you said I looked like a Baptist."

"Baptist dandy. Very rare breed."

Sam idly flicked the bohemian ruby drop in Tom's ear. "That so," he said.

"Yeah, not like you at all."

Sam raised his eyebrows. "I was wearing this when you met me!"

"And I had the same thought then."

"That I was a Baptist?"

"That there was a man..." he dragged his palms across Sam's chest, "desperately in need of adornment."

Sam laughed. "The piercings weren't enough for you?"

Tom shook his head. "They're not right." He sat up, raising a hand to trace Sam's eyebrows. "You deserve..."

Tom frowned slightly. Sam deserved so many things, beautiful things - more than the people who came to his workshop asking for a necklace for their girlfriend and a ring for their wife. He blinked, focused on the man beneath him. Sam lay quiet, a small smile on his face, stark black and severe white against the sheets.

Sam's big, warm hand slid up from his thigh to rest over Tom's heart. "Yeah?" he asked softly.

Tom picked up the hand, pressing a kiss into the palm and letting Sam's fingers curl over his cheek. "Jewels," he said. "Everything I've got down at the shop. Rings for every finger with diamonds and sapphires and gold." He kissed the tips of each finger, biting the pads carefully and suckling each into his mouth, one after the other. Sam exhaled shakily and swallowed, mimicking Tom.

He released the pinky with a small pop, letting Sam's hand fall to trace patterns across his chest, idly plucking at his nipples. He arched slightly and went on speaking.

"A... cravat pin gleaming with rubies... real ones." Tom's fingers traced over Sam's neck cloth, circling the knot over his Adam's apple. He undid the knot and pushed the length of cloth out of the way. He moved upwards, thumb brushing over the hoops in Sam's ears. "Emeralds... emerald studs for the lobes and a wire for the rims. I could do it for you, twisting it in and out and around..."

Sam shifted under him, bringing his other hand up to stroke his stomach, fingers digging into the skin around his navel and traveling lower to circle his cock. He began to stroke, thumb over the slit making Tom shiver and grind down onto Sam's lap.

"I'd be a walking advert," Sam said, but his eyes were hot. Tom could feel him, hard, pushing against the leather of his trousers.

Tom shook his head. He made quick work of the top buttons on Sam's shirt, all the way to the vest. He slid his hands under the shirt, along the revealed skin. "A watch chain," he continued. "Something simple... gold to match your skin."

"Think you'd need something a bit darker for that, love." Sam arched an eyebrow.

Tom shook his head. "Not the color..." He bent down, latching on to Sam's shoulder and sucking, tongue slipping down to the center of his chest and kissing the bottom of his collarbone. "So soft - like butter - gold is soft like that... it bends and shapes... never rusts." He sucked a nipple into his mouth, biting down and flicking his tongue against the nub. Sam arched up, hand coming around to clasp the back of his head.

Tom stretched out on top, molding himself to Sam's body. Sam brought his hand around to grip the curve of his arse, holding him tight against his groin.

Tom kissed his way from one nipple to the next. "You wear too many clothes," he said.

"Good thing you don't," Sam said, squeezing his naked hip.

Tom chuckled. He moved downwards, pressing his lips over skin and cloth, nuzzling at Sam's crotch, sucking at the length outlined by his trousers. "I like your taste in leather, though," he said.

Sam groaned, bucking up towards his mouth. His hands clamped down on the sheets, bunching and twisting them.

Tom unbuttoned the top clasp of the trousers, drawing the zipper down to the beat of Sam's heavy breath. "I like your taste, period," he said.

Sam's cock surged out of the leather, dark with blood and leaking at the tip. Tom let his tongue swirl around the head, pushing back the foreskin with one hand, and sucking, once, hard.

Sam arched off the bed with a cry. Tom let him push his cock deep, opening wide and slicking his tongue along the vein. Gently, he wrapped his hands around Sam's hipbones and pushed him back onto the bed.

He pulled away, heard Sam moan, felt a shaking hand come up to cup the side of his head. He blew a stream of air from base to tip, stroking up with his hand and trying not to grind himself into the bed.

"Jewels," he said. "Alive against your skin, touching you all over..." He sucked a bruise on Sam's hip. "When I'm not there..." He mouthed Sam's sac, taking it in and trailing one finger behind to rub at the soft skin there.

"Never happen," Sam gasped. He pushed at Tom's head. "I see you... *God*... feel you... *more*..."

Tom raised his head to drag his tongue back over the cock in front of him. He pushed the vest and shirt higher, getting his hands on all that was underneath, soft skin and hard muscle bending and flexing under his fingers, tattoos dancing across Sam's stomach. He opened his mouth and swallowed Sam down, relaxing his throat enough to take him almost all the way, curling his hands around Sam's torso and digging his fingers into the skin.

Sam howled, thrusting upwards and in, hand locking onto his shoulder with bruising force. He swallowed again, moaning around the hot flesh in his mouth. He kept one hand wrapped around the base, twisting and jacking the skin while Sam writhed underneath, cursing and pleading in the same breath.

Tom swallowed twice more, dragging his hand to his own cock and stroking hard. Sam arched and the hand gripping his shoulder tensed. He shuddered and shouted, falling back to the bed as come shot down Tom's throat.

Tom pulled back, swallowing the fluid on his tongue until there was none left. He circled the head of his cock with his fingers, thumb flicking the slit. He buried his face in Sam's stomach and groaned.

"Hey, hey." Sam tugged him upwards, pressing him flat against his chest. Sam crushed his lips against his mouth, tongue slipping inside and probing along the spots that made him shiver and moan. He shook, wrapping a leg around Sam's calf.

Sam twined his hand around his, their fingers circling his cock and sliding through the precome slicking along the length. His moans were swallowed into Sam's mouth as they stroked harder. His hips pushed him closer, seeking more and tighter as their hands fisted over his cock until he cried out and came, pulsing in hot waves.

He shook, one hand coming up to hold Sam to him as he kissed his cheeks and eyelids and nose and lips.

Sam rolled them over, nuzzling into his throat and kissing his collarbone, as Tom slowly got his breath back. "Maybe I'll go in a bit later, huh?" he said. "I'm the boss after all... one of the bosses anyway."

"Yeah, all right... good plan."

He tugged a piece of blanket over them, wiping his hand on the sheet. "It being Sunday an' all."

"Yeah," Tom breathed. "That's what I was saying."

He closed his eyes and held on tight.