Work Text:
Vincent could hear the steady, rhythmical footsteps coming from the studio.
He was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping on his late morning tea. His calendar was being - for once - clement with him, and he could actually take some time to appreciate the taste of the steaming drink in front of him without having to rush to the next commitment. He took a glance outside the kitchen window and saw the roman sky finally a reassuring shade of warm cyan blue; the clearness of it a first hint of a much awaited coming spring. Through the small opened crack of it he could hear and see some swallows flying beyond the squared glass. He breathed in deeply as he admired the awakening of nature, each passing year still a wonder to his eyes.
Fundamentally unable to completely let himself go to the feeling of relaxation as he was, though, he collected some of the papers still laying on the table from the previous night, when Thomas had helped him going through some corrections on his latest Encyclical in progress.
He tried focusing on his notes, but the dull thud of Thomas’s weight on the treadmill kept knocking at his head, gently distracting him.
Regular practice of exercise, the Doctor had recommended to Dean Thomas Lawrence, in order to maintain his inevitably deteriorated shape, a result of decades of neglect, malnutrition and a most recent heart murmur his latest check up with the Vatican medical équipe had told him about. Vincent, most concerned for his health, struggled for a while after his election to grasp the extent of Thomas’ lack of self care until their own relationship had deepened, the both of them finally accepting the feelings that bonded each to the other; a spiritual and physical journey that had enveloped them unanimously and had managed to eradicate some of the layers of self deprecation and sorrow his Dean was used to so stoically wear.
He had managed to slowly but steadily reintroduce some good and healthy habits in their shared routine, noticing how otherwise normal daily tasks like eating, showering, praying and sleeping would become much easier and pleasant to practice when done together. And so they had installed a treadmill in the studio of their now conveniently joined apartments, and Thomas had actually kept his commitment to the machine, his motivation to take action on the maintenance of his joints and wellness another pleasant outcome of their relationship.
Today was the turn of his cardio exercises, apparently, and so he kept going, the rhythm of his footsteps slightly increasing. Vincent could picture his beloved lightly running on the mill, his elegance and portamento ever present, even during physical exertion.
Feeling engrossed by the sound, his mind rushed involuntarily to another rhythmical thud he had himself most recently taken part of; his thoughts lingering at the past night’s movement of their bed against the bedroom wall as he thrusted into Thomas, his face immediately feeling warmer at the memory of his partner’s muffled sounds into his shoulder as he kept him embraced as close as possible to his body, his throbbing arousal sliding between their sleek with sweat abdomens, longing for release.
An unexpected warm wave of arousal found its way through his body at the picture. He inhaled slowly, trying to dismiss some of the reemerging urgency to just rush into the adjacent room to put a pleasant but abrupt stop to Thomas’ exercise.
Vincent had never questioned his attraction to Thomas’ appearance. The Dean had been from the first day a very pleasant presence to Vincent, his sweet and sad blue eyes piercing through him with an unrequited forcefulness, his straight posture and firm hand a reassurance in the difficult moments of his new, unexpected role.
This newly found practice, although, had clearly improved his figure even more.
Vincent allowed himself to indulge in the image of Thomas in his sport attire. He had recovered from his wardrobe some old clothes he hadn’t worn in years of long forgotten physical activity, but still wearable.
His white cotton t-shirt was now not as loose as when he had started, his hips fuller, his back and shoulder more structured. His grey tracksuits were a particular weak spot for Vincent. The times they would combine their athletic activities together, with Thomas on the treadmill or on a bench, lifting some weights, and Vincent on a matte, keeping his Yoga exercised and his ever becoming precarious flexibility in shape, often ended with Vincent staring a bit too intently at Thomas’ glutes, now so softly rounded by his loose trousers.
Oh, he was definitely losing himself to distraction now.
With his pencil tapping on the white pages in front of him, his gaze lost along the empty lines of the sheets, he didn't realize the mill had stopped as Thomas made his entrance into the dining room.
A towel folded and wrapped around the back of his neck, he headed towards the kitchen cabinets while tapping some sweat off his forehead, hinting a shy smile at Vincent, intently not wanting to distract him from his work.
Thomas leaned over the kitchen counter, drinking avidly from his glass, a drop of orange juice threatening to escape his mouth and ripple down his chin.
He caught himself in time, with eyes slightly widening, his tongue slipping out to pick up the fugitive drops. Vincent was now staring at him, holding his breath, not daring to move a muscle, afraid his state would translate his despair for the man standing so candidly in front of him.
“Mh, do you want some, Vincent? It's delicious. Sorry for not asking sooner, I didn't want to distract you from your writing"
Vincent blinked, the heartbeat in his ears drumming a little less at the sound of the voice of his beloved calling him back to planet Earth.
"Are you doing this on purpose, Tomás?"
He managed to hoarsely whisper, his throat still a bit too dry from the running thoughts and his excitement building up.
"I'm sorry, what?”
"You can't be that oblivious"
"I'm afraid I don't understand what you're talking about, dearest" replied Thomas with an innocent look on his face.
Vincent scanned his figure, eyes slowly crossing his body and purposely stopping by at the shapes accentuated by his attire. Thomas’ ears started gaining a bit of color as he felt the other man’s gaze roaming over him.
"Are you feeling alright, love?”
His voice quivered slightly while questioning the younger man sat in front of him.
"Oh, I'm more than perfectly fine, thank you"
He made up his mind, too hard to resist the sweet temptation. The papers on the table were left behind as Vincent stood up and started approaching his partner, each step taking its time, never taking his eyes off him.
"I just find fascinating how you don't realize how attractive you are when you're wearing your sportswear"
A few, more steps closer.
“Oh, please… These clothes are probably as old as me, they are the least attractive thing one could lay eyes on, dearest”
The understatement was contradicted by the effect of Vincent flattering words on him. The blush that started spreading on Thomas’s ears now reaching his cheeks as Vincent took his last steps and stopped in front of him, his hands landing on the kitchen counter behind Thomas’ back.
As Thomas stared deeply into his partner’s eyes, his pupils now slightly dilated and his breath still labored from the effort, Vincent took a moment to let the picture sink in. Even after years spent together Thomas would so easily shy off at Vincent's bluntness, his natural pale complexion gaining a few reddish tinted shade deeper.
Although the provoking thought his self-indulgent mind was feeding him with, it was still the sweetest image to Vincent’s eyes, to see his Thomas’ features react to the compliments he was given and the growing tension between them.
“Well, I think you owe me the honor and the duty to be the judge of that”
He leaned over a bit, his lips getting closer to Thomas’s chin, where a captive drop of juice was still daring to hang on the slight stubble that would, unfortunately, soon be shaved off.
A hitched breath came from the man in front of him. Vincent swiftly licked away the drop, while sliding his right hand on the small of Thomas’s back, his fingers definitely lingering on the soft fabric that so beautifully covered his glutes.
“Oh, please, Vincent. I’m all sweaty as well… I must smell horrendous”
“While the king was at his table, my perfume spread its fragrance…”
“Well if that isn’t being blasphemous now-”
He couldn't finish his sentence, his breath hitching in his throat as Vincent moved aside the towel from his neck and approached the nook below his right ear with an open mouthed kiss, his tongue daring out to get a taste of his beloved’s skin. He tasted the slightly tangy and salty flavor of Thomas’ dried sweat, the instinctive gesture sending another jolt of arousal straight between his legs.
“I like your smell, always”
A guttural low groan escaped Thomas’ throat as he instinctively leaned into Vincent’s touch, his head tilting towards Vincent’s, his lips lingering over his cheekbone, barely touching it, and his hips bucking forward on their own quest for some friction.
He’s met by the hard line of the zipper on Vincent’s slacks, slightly accentuated by the growing bulge between his legs. Thomas winced a little at the feeling, sliding his free hand in one of Vincent’s back pockets and pulling him towards himself, closing the distance between their growing heaving chests. He cradled Vincent’s face with his free hand and leaned his forehead on the other man’s, breathing deeply and letting his lips hover over his partner’s a second too long, not yet giving him what he wanted.
“And what about my taste?”
There he is, the thought landed in Vincent’s mind, a grin shaping his mouth as he relished in the more unhinged and provoking side of Thomas’ character, an exclusive privilege he knew he was granted and for which he was the one and only ever reason his Dean would behave like this.
The pride made him close the almost non-existent gap between their mouths, allowing them to get lost in a slow dance of warm movements, their tongues moving almost at the same time as their joined, grinding hips. A soft moan from the one, a whimpered breath from the other.
Vincent felt Thomas’ hand taking a grasp of the hair on the back of his head, pushing him impossibly close as he dove into his mouth with a passion compellingly surprising for a Cardinal in his sixties who had been aloof to intimacy for the majority of his life. Vincent abandoned himself into the kiss until the physiological need to breath made its bothersome appearance between the two. They separated, panting slightly, exchanging a look of such complicity it made Vincent’s heart twist with a pang of love he couldn’t possibly quantify. He tightened his grasp on Thomas’ hips, now more of an embrace than a desperate search for contact and friction.
“You still haven’t answered me” Thomas told him, nudging their noses lightly together.
“About what?”
“I asked you if you wanted some-”
“Some of you?”
“Some juice, Vincent”
“Ah…”
Vincent took a dramatic couple of seconds to complete his answer, pretending to be seriously considering whether or not he wanted some of the - at the present time - honestly insignificant orange juice. He licked his lips, Thomas’ taste still present on them, and he pondered how much more of that taste he could get in a few minutes from now. His mind quickly found his resolution.
“I think I'll stick with to first answer, Tomás?”
He took his beloved hands and pulled him towards their bedroom door, his Dean following compliant, a snarky but aroused look on his face.
“Did you even wonder if I was done with my workout? You know what the Doctor said”
“Are you done with your workout, dearest?”
“Will it make any difference if I say no?”
Vincent pushed the door of the bedroom open, gently dragging Thomas in behind him.
“No, but I can promise you Dr. Bernabei will not complain about you not doing enough cardio”
“Vincent!”
The door closed behind them, muffling a light sound of laughter and a thud against it, the beginning of a new heated encounter between the two men kept safe by the such sacred walls.