[ @ T.Ham ] 🐕 Rest their head on my muse’s knee

It had been a ridiculously trying day – and in truth, Thomas had not thought there would be anything that could calm his overall frustrations until the very moment James all but fell over and rested against his knee. In an instant, the angry energy swirling inside of him bled away, and the need to be absolutely still fell upon him instead.

To be a safe harbor for this man took immediate precedence – and perhaps that should have been a warning to him, a sign of the power this man would eventually hold over him. As it was, Thomas positioned his arm against the arm of the chesterfield and rested his head within the palm of his own hand as the other arm came to rest loosely over James, anchoring him in silence and making it clear, without a word, that they were fine. Regardless of the disaster of the day – like this, behind closed doors with only Miranda to find them, they were just fine.

💞 for a kiss on the hand [ @ t.ham in pirate verse, listen, he Likes Thomas’ Hands let him live ]

{ Random Act Prompts }

“If a callous vanished each time you did that I’d have hands that never worked a day again,” Thomas teased, his tone warm in a way that indicated he genuinely was not bothered by the state of his hands and considered James’ attention to them truly flattering.

He made no move to stop the man, either, simply choosing to shift himself so that he could take a seat again – he had not even been gone long, so there was really no excuse for James’ needing to touch him, any more than there was a reason for Thomas craving the offer of it. Yet in the dark hours of the night, when all there was in the world was the creak of the ship and the slap of the waves to remind him of where and when he was, Thomas found he needed James more than ever to feel as if the world was real.

He never believed in happy endings before, and maybe that was why like James, he did not like being apart for more than was absolutely necessary – and that until they touched again, everything felt a little more brittle and fragile than before.

🖤 for a kiss on a wound (bruise, scar, etc.) | Joji to Abigail

{ Random Acts }

The early morning sun was streaming in through the window, the curtains still open from the night before to invite in the cool air after a day so hot it had felt as if every motion created sweat and weariness in its wake. Some time after midnight, it had chilled to the point Abigail had woken up pressed up tightly against Joji and shivering just a little beneath the blanket she realized he must have dragged over her while she slept.

Now, she found herself lazing in the sun and enjoying the warmth as it spread along her shoulders, watching her lover as he pressed kisses against the marks that had tormented her so deeply, before his gaze had found them. She saw them differently now – covered as they were in his touch, healed again and again by the certainty of his kisses.

It was hard to hate anything he could love so steadily – and there was never a doubt in her, about his feelings toward them. That they were a part of the whole of her made them as worthy of his affections as anything else that made up who she was – and he didn’t have to tell her for her to learn and accept that to be true. He showed her, each and every day, ways to see the world through his eyes – and the more she looked, the more she found she could find the truth and the lies.

His hair brushed over her knee then, and a soft laugh escaped her at the sensation – ticklish as ever – as she reached down and gripped his shoulder, encouraging him to join her at the top of the bed. She had work soon enough, and she wanted to spend as much of her early morning in his arms as she could get away with.