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“Alfie,” Tommy says, “what on Earth is in the fridge.”

“Hmm? In the--oh, right. S’perfect for your cooking,” Alfie replies over the telly.

“My cooking?”

Tommy leans into the fridge and heaves the massive pumpkin out onto the counter. He squints at it.

Alfie continues, “I saw it, erm, at that market you like. The woman who always says hello, you know her, that woman, yeah. Said it was perfect--just ripe, yeah.”

Tommy pats the pumpkin. “What the hell am I gonna do with you?” he wonders.

The pumpkin doesn’t respond.

...

He doesn’t connect it to the pumpkin at first.

He jolts awake in the middle of the night soaked with sweat and gasping for breath like he’s just run a marathon. It’s--he’s too--

He sits up, scrambling out of the sheets and his shirt. Cool air washes over him, but he still feels... feverish.

Alfie shifts beside him. “Tommy?” he mumbles. “Mate, what’s…”

“I’m--” Tommy breathes out. He doesn’t know how to finish.

Alfie’s searching hand touches Tommy’s arm and it burns him like a firebrand. He jumps, biting out “Don’t--” before the initial sting melts into something warm that smolders pleasurably under his skin. He swallows. “--Oh, Christ, Alfie, touch me.”

Alfie shifts around, pushing the sheets down to the foot of the bed, and the light flicks on. Tommy blinks as his eyes adjust. Alfie’s staring at him worriedly.

“Tommy, what’s wrong, mate? Are you alright? You’re…”

He lays his hand on Tommy’s forehead. Tommy’s eyes flutter closed. He’s--he’s hard, holy shit, just from this. He pushes his pajama pants halfway down his thighs to wrap a hand around the base of his cock.

“Alfie,” he whimpers.

“Tommy, mate,” Alfie lets his hand drop from Tommy’s face--he’s still worried, but Tommy can feel him giving in, “I mean, you’re…” 

Tommy strokes his cock--slowly, just the once--and pants. He looks at Alfie, gaze half-lidded. “Alfie,” he says again, desperate.

Alfie makes a noise in his throat and pounces, pushing Tommy down into the bed, and they’re kissing, wet and messy and Alfie’s tongue and Alfie’s hands--oh God, he’s everywhere and Tommy is so hot for it. Tommy clutches at him, rocking up, and whines because it’s not enough.

They separate, just for a moment, so Tommy can kick his pants all the way off. Then Alfie takes Tommy in hand and starts stroking him, slow and easy, between their bodies and Tommy throws his head back against the pillow and writhes.

“Is that better, yeah, Tommy? Does that feel good?” Alfie says into his ear, low and rough.

Tommy moans, pushing into his fist.

“Hmm? Or--” Alfie tightens his hand and speeds up and up and Tommy shakes and he can feel his orgasm rising up in him like a wave, but just as he’s right there, fuck--Alfie stops.

Tommy gulps for breath as he comes back down from the edge, heart pounding in his chest. When he opens his eyes, Alfie’s staring right at him.

“Is that what you want, mate, hmmm?” he asks.

Tommy blinks back at him. He feels the thing smoldering inside him rear up in burning frustration--he wants--

Very slowly, he shakes his head no.

“No?” Alfie takes his hand completely away.

Tommy groans and arches up toward him. But soon enough Alfie’s hand comes back, wet, and his finger presses up against Tommy’s hole and Tommy nearly sobs out in relief.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s it,” Alfie mutters, and pushes in with just the one finger. Tommy clenches around it and feels like he’s going to lose his mind. It’s not enough.

Alfie’s panting heavily now, staring down between them, and when Tommy rolls his hips and moans helplessly, he says, voice rough, “Okay, mate, Christ,” and pulls it out.

He slicks his own cock up, settling back over Tommy, and asks “Alright?” before pushing in.

Oh, God. Finally.

Tommy scrabbles at the bed sheet and feels a rush of white static fill his mind, the hot, burning sensation flooding all his veins with finally and yes and more, more, more.

Alfie starts moving, slowly at first, and leans down to bite at Tommy’s neck. Tommy groans and clutches at the back of Alfie’s head, squeezing his legs tighter around Alfie in wordless demand. Alfie obliges, fucking him harder, the sound of their skin slapping filling the room. Tommy gasps and thrashes, feeling like he’s drowning.

“Yeah?” Alfie rumbles against him. “Yeah, like that?”

Alfie brings a hand down between them and starts jerking Tommy’s cock. Tommy sobs like it’s hurting him, breath hitching as he gets closer and closer and Alfie pushes into him, hard and sudden, and that’s it --Tommy writhes and comes all over the both of them, in long, shuddering pulses, almost overwhelming in their intensity.

He feels like he loses time for long moments afterward, long enough that when he gets back to himself Alfie has already come and is looking worried again.

“Do you…” he begins, then pulls his eyebrows together.

“I’m--” Tommy says. He looks down and clears his throat. “I’m...tired.”

Alfie nods. “Yeah, sure, mate, I’ll just…” The bed dips as he climbs out.

Tommy is asleep before he gets back.

The next morning, Tommy stands in the kitchen, bleary-eyed and barefoot, staring at the plate of small, innocuous pumpkin pieces. He’d sliced a bit up to taste, yesterday.

Alfie comes up behind him and wraps his arms around Tommy’s middle.

Tommy leans back into him. “Never buy shit for me again,” he tells him.

“Mm-hmm,” Alfie hums into Tommy’s shoulder, sounding very pleased with himself.

“I mean it.”

Alfie just takes Tommy’s hand and starts pulling him gently back up the stairs.

“Did you do this on purpose?” Tommy demands.

Alfie starts smiling. “Okay, mate, I swear I didn’t, and I was really worried about you, right, but you’re better now and I’ll toss the pumpkin and we should go fuck some more, hmm? I adore you.”

Tommy sniffs, imperious. “Fine,” he says.