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The first thing Thomas became aware of was the sound of breathing in front of him. He cracked an eye open, still groggy, just to be met with one of his most beloved and rarest morning views.
Alfie was lying on his side, facing him. His face was relaxed, serene, as it so rarely was when awake. The sun backlit his dark hair, showing the normally invisible shades of brown. His usually meticulously combed mustache mussed.
He rarely joined them in bed for a night anymore. The butler insisted on it himself, and it's not like there was a thing Thomas or Martha would not do if he just asked. He had them wrapped around his fingers, and knew just how to push to bend them to his will.
It was a bit different situation, of course. They wished to express themselves freely in their own home, but the man raised a brow and a very good argument about accidental rumors to shut them down.
After all, their dear son was just a small child, and kids tend to talk, honest to a fault. All it would take is a single "mommy kisses butler," and their life would never know peace again. Bruce would forever be chased by rumors of being an illegitimate child, a bastard of a sleazy servant, and a whore mother. The whispers would always question his decisions, his name, how light gets caught in his hair, how blue his eyes are.
They would never understand what was between the three of them.
So, while they were affectionate behind closed doors, anywhere where even Bruce could see them was a place where they could at most lay a hand on Alfred's arm. And even those were rare moments as the man took his duties and position seriously, always pinning them with a single look if their minds dared to wander too far.
There was nothing more important to him than the family, and the Waynes loved him too much to ever risk it. Alfred would be inconsolable if his love was what threw their child's life into such hell.
Thomas sighed quietly, staring at the man. He was so peaceful like this. There was no public, there was no risk, he could just…
He reached towards the man quietly, brushing away a dark strand that fell on his face. First, one blue eye cracked open, then the second one, as a smile stretched the man's lips.
"Alfie," sighed Thomas, caressing his lover's face before cupping his cheek.
"Good morning, my love," whispered the man, then turned his head a bit to kiss his palm. His mustache tickled the skin softly.
Thomas couldn't do anything other than smile at him blissfully. He treasured mornings like this. The only thing that could make them better would be if Martha were hugging Alfred from the other side, with her silky brown hair contrasting with the pale line of her throat…
"What are you thinking so deeply about, love?" Alfred's voice was soft and low, and his breath was tickling his hand.
"You look so beautiful, my dearest" whispered Thomas, moving his thumb to caress his lips. He could feel every warm exhale on his fingertip. "I could just lie like this with you forever."
Alfred smiled slowly, almost slyly, and unhurriedly brought his arm up to gently grasp his wrist, keeping his hand in place.
His grip was light, yet still secure. He could snap Thomas' wrist, mangle it beyond any saving with a single move. Just one, and he would never be a surgeon again.
And yet the man used it to slowly pull Thomas' hand away from his cheek, tracing the inside of it with his mouth as he turned it to place a proper kiss on his knuckles like a true gentleman. Even the fact that they were both lying on their sides couldn't make him look ridiculous.
He always had that effortless elegance that amazed Thomas. He could never understand how one could resist the man's charm, how anyone could dismiss him as a mere servant. Couldn't they see the cunning in his eyes? How every one of his movements were controlled and thought through? The man was danger personified, but no one but them seemed to see behind the carefully crafted mask of politeness and British accent.
"We still have some time," breathed Alfred, the air ghosting over the other man's skin. His eyes were darkened and his gaze heavy, and Thomas could feel heat rushing to his face-
"You're such a tease," rasped Thomas, reflexively trying to tug his arm back, but the grip around his wrist turned into steel. Alfred brought his hand closer, till his lips met his skin again, and smiled almost hungrily before starting to map a road with kisses.
"Are you in a hurry, sir?" the man murmured, and Thomas had to bite his lip to not lose it then and there.
Technically, they were in the servants' quarters, and they still had some time…
Alfred's mouth left his skin for a moment as the man adjusted his grip to now push a thumb into his palm, baring his pulse point. Which didn't go unaddressed, before the skin even managed to cool, lips covered it.
There was just the slightest hint of teeth, but it was enough for Thomas to be reminded just how easy he could wound him, cripple him, human teeth weren't made for cutting into, but with the right pressure and placement-
There were few things that could make him as fervent as this.
"Do not lose your wits on me now, Mister Wayne," his voice wasn't even muffled. Without even waiting for an answer, the man started gently sucking on the sensitive skin.
"I am not, ah, losing anything," Thomas couldn't stop a hitching breath at the sensation. "I dare say I am, ah, gaining much more, darling."
"And what would that be, sir?" Alfred asked slyly, kissing a trail towards his inner elbow. The brush of his mustache made the other man shiver, unable to mask the moan this time.
"You, my dearest," Thomas breathed. Alfred was still holding his hand, bringing them closer. There was a little nibble at the inner elbow, reminding Thomas about the biceps tendon that hid just under the skin there, a slight twist that reminded him just how easy it would be to snap both his wrist and elbow and-
There was a movement. There must have been a movement, he was lying on his back now, but he couldn't even think, his breath knocked out of him by the beautiful vision above him.
Alfred was leaning over him, straddling him, his blue eyes burning, that self-satisfied smile on his lips, his always-gelled hair now free and curling just slightly as the longer strands hung down.
Thomas tried to lift his hands to bury them in this softness, but Alfred was holding them down, tangling their fingers together, caging them…
"Nothing to say, Mister Pennyworth?" teased Alfred, leaning closer, but still out of his range. "Did someone finally tame the Wayne butler?"
It should not be doing to him something like this, his lover calling him by the name.
Or maybe it was a normal reaction to being reminded that someone you love so deeply shares their very self with you. Being reminded they let you go by their name, wear their face…
He took a deep breath, looking into those burning eyes, letting a bland mask fall over his features, putting just enough tension into his body to not look as undone as he truly felt.
"One mustn’t flatter oneself unduly," responded Thomas, switching to the British accent with a bit more difficulty than usual. He did think he could be forgiven, given the circumstances and the want singing in his blood. "So do try to keep your expectations within reason."
Alfred's smile changed into something more dangerous, his eyes darkening into something more smoldering than a burning look, as he put more weight on Thomas' hands, driving them deeper into the mattress, reminding the man about the hold-
"Is that all you have to say, Mister Pennyworth?" he said lowly, and Thomas could feel how his legs flexed, how his feet dug harder into his thighs, forcing them just a bit more open-
"I do not see a need to further entertain this conversation," Thomas responded, proud of the fact that he managed to keep the mask despite another flex from the man.
Alfred's face softened a tad, as did his grip. He let one of his hands go to cup his face, caressing his cheek with a thumb. Thomas leaned into it, breaking the character.
"You make a fine butler, my love," whispered Alfred, leaning close enough for their breaths to mix. Thomas put his free hand on his, giving his lover a sad smile.
"Never one as good as you, my dearest," he murmured back. Alfred looked at him with such naked emotion that if he was standing, his knees would give out. Even lying, he could feel his muscles turn into jelly, hoping to feel his touch-
The man leaned in for a kiss and Thomas closed eyes, reveling in the pressure of his lovers legs, pinning his thighs open with his calves and feet, of controlled weight he used to push down his hips, of hand holding his own and the other one, switching from the side of his face into his hair, teasing the strands with just enough pull to feel, but not yet be painful-
The next time he opened his eyes, he was cold and all alone in the servants quarters, a twinge of decades-old grief in his heart.
Thomas took a deep breath, pulling the covers away, and got up. He had a long day of work before him.