Jack’s hand found its way to the back of Thomas’s head again, his fingers threading through his hair, urging him on.

"Fuck, Thomas," he murmured, his voice thick with desire and affection. He felt safe with Thomas. More than safe, he felt cherished, like every touch and every movement was meant for him alone. It was intoxicating, and Jack knew he’d never want it any other way.

He whispered his husband's name again, the sound of it rough and breathless, his other hand gripping the sheets tightly as he let himself get lost in the sensation, in the way Thomas seemed to know exactly how to push him over the edge. With one more low, happy moan, Jack came in Thomas's mouth. It was so wonderfully overwhelming.