“Did you turn the porch light on?”
Jim didn’t answer. Arms crossed and a frown furrowing his brow, he was watching Thomas walk down the staircase.
“You dressed up as a wizard,” he said, a heavy sigh lurking in his words. “Again.”
Thomas fastened his robes closed and smirked. He knew the costume was garish, large black stars and moons on shiny silver satin with a matching, fur-lined pointy hat. Garish was precisely what he had wanted when he’d bought the attire, but that wasn’t all. Against the satin, he knew his skin seemed darker, less coffee and milk and more polished ebony: he looked utterly corny, but he looked good. Jim might not be fond of wizards, but he liked undressing them—or at the very least, Thomas.
“You know me,” Thomas drawled. “I like my little rituals.”
Coming closer, he adjusted Jim’s striped scarf. It looped around his neck three times over his coat, and both ends still fell nearly to the floor.
“At least,” he added, “the kids will know what I’m supposed to be. They’ll just look at you and think that’s how you usually dress.”
Jim shook his head but he was grinning. He slid his hands under Thomas’ robes and grabbed his hips to pull him forward until they were toe to toe, then chest to chest.
“One day,” Jim murmured against Thomas’ lips, “you’ll have to tell me what’s up with you and all things wizard-y.”
“One day,” Thomas retorted, allowing his accent to slink back to the London inflections he had lost over the course of the century, “you’ll have to tell me what’s up with you and all things British.”
Jim’s hands slid to Thomas’ ass and squeezed. “Not all things British. Just my gorgeous boyfriend and Doctor Who. In that order.”
Need surged through Thomas, flashing straight to the tip of his suddenly aching dick. He pressed forward, caressing Jim’s lips with his own, but before he could deepen the kiss three knocks on the door announced the first of their little visitors.