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Footman in Training	By : imdirty Category: 1 through F > Downton Abbey Views: 2654 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Downton Abbey and am not making money from this story. And I'm hoping I'm doing this disclaimer thing right :)

Chapter List
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Eric was restless the moment he posted his letter. He couldn’t eat or sleep, and writing was impossible. He wanted to cancel his week-long trip to Scotland, not sure he could survive the trip spending the entire time wondering if a reply from Thomas was waiting for him at home. He turned to Kait for support, but as he explained his story she lost sympathy, telling him his impulsive love letter might put Thomas off him completely. She wasn’t pleased that by association, Thomas might put her off as well.

As one of the few employees trusted with keys, Eric let himself into the magazine offices at two in the morning. If he couldn’t sleep, he would at least try to write. He sat at a typewriter with his fingers poised over the keys, but nothing came to him. Not a paragraph, not a sentence, not a single inspired word. He flipped through his journal from his trip to India, but still, nothing. He went home for a nap at five o’clock and came back mid-morning. He knew Lady Edith would arrive later. Maybe seeing her would spark some kind of motivation to write, he thought.

He let Lady Edith settle in, knowing she was quite busy trying to coordinate the impending publication of this month’s magazine while interviewing for a new editor. At tea time, he knocked on her door casing with her tea in hand. She stood over several pages of copy, reviewing each carefully.

“Sorry you’re back under these circumstances,” Eric said, setting Lady Edith’s tea down on the desk, “but it’s nice to see you again.”

“Since when do you serve the tea here?” Lady Edith asked with a grin.

“I can’t manage to write anything today, so at least I could serve our interim editor her tea. That’s some kind of accomplishment, isn’t it?”

Lady Edith waved to him to shut the door. “Why can’t you write today?”

“I’m distracted by a personal matter,” he said, closing the door “How unprofessional of me.”

“Take the day off to deal with it, then. You’ve met the deadline for today, and that’s all I care about at the moment.”

“I appreciate that, but there’s nothing to attend to. I just have to find a way to push through it.”

Lady Edith sipped her tea. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

Yes, Eric thought; go back to Downton, find out what Thomas thinks of my letter, and then telephone me immediately. Instead, he thought it might be helpful to focus on something else. “We could go out to dinner. A night out would do me good.”

“I’m afraid there’s too much to do here tonight,” Lady Edith said apologetically, “but tomorrow, let’s get dinner.”

“I’ll look forward to it.”

Lady Edith turned back to her copy and held up one of the sheets. “What do you think of this?” she said, pointing to one of the columns.

Eric stood next to Lady Edith and bent down to look at the paper in her hands. She held it up higher so that he didn’t have to stoop. He read the short piece and nodded. “I love that you’re inviting the readers to get to know you. Does this mean you’re more than just the interim editor?”

“I haven’t decided. I may share the duties. What do you think of the illustration?”

Eric looked over Lady Edith’s shoulder again. “It’s splendid. I like it very much.”

“One of the footmen drew it yesterday. Isn’t that a hoot? I didn’t include that part in the column. It may not make me seem very accessible to the reader if I talk about my footman,” she said, chuckling.

“Which footman?”

“That’s right, you saw them during your stay. He’s about my age.” Lady Edith shrugged and set the copy back down on the desk. “I don’t know how else to differentiate him for you since they all dress the same.”

“It doesn’t matter, I suppose. I was just curious. I’ll let you get back to business.”

“So, dinner tomorrow is acceptable?”

“It sounds perfect to me,” Eric said, collecting Lady Edith’s empty tea cup.

The day didn’t become any more productive, and by sundown Eric had enough. He packed his briefcase, waved to Lady Edith before leaving, and headed home. On the way, he obsessed over the image of Thomas with the letter in hand, angry with him for complicating things. He found himself following a familiar route that diverted from the one back to his boarding house. He reached his destination and held his finger above the buzzer. Don’t press it, he told himself. There are other ways to handle your feelings. But it was too late, his finger was already pressing the button.

Eric followed his host upstairs; a young, impish man nearly a foot shorter than himself named Jacob. Jacob was more cute than handsome, with blue eyes and pink lips, both a little too large for his face. Eric answered the question, “What d’you want tonight?” with “The usual,” and then added, “but more rough.” He hadn’t visited the flat in at least two months, but Jacob always remembered what he liked. Jacob asked what brought Eric to him this time, and as Eric undressed he explained that he may have ruined an important friendship, and so he needed to be punished. Jacob asked him to describe his friend, and Eric became more and more aroused as he listed everything he found provocative about Thomas.

Jacob grabbed Eric’s growing cock unceremoniously and led him by it to the bedroom, smirking at Eric’s whimpers of discomfort as he pulled him in tow. He pushed Eric into the middle of the room. He disappeared, and returned a moment later, grabbing Eric’s hands from behind. Eric interlocked his fingers, and Jacob bound him from his elbows to his wrists. He kicked Eric’s foot, spreading his legs apart further. Jacob disappeared again, returning this time with a riding crop. Eric shivered at the sight of it and smiled. Jacob promptly smacked the smile off his face.

Jacob nodded to the bed, and Eric bent over it. Jacob hit him lightly with the crop. Eric raised his backside, waiting to be hit again.

Jacob leaned over Eric and purred into his ear, “You really want it tonight, don’t ya?”

“I need it,” Eric breathed.

Jacob hit him harder the second time. Eric groaned and buried his face in the mattress. Jacob ran his fingers lightly over the backs of Eric’s thighs, then between them, and then cupped his balls in his hand, tugging lightly. Eric spread his legs, giving Jacob better access. Jacob spanked him and tugged again.

Eric rocked his hips. “Harder. Please.”

Jacob hit Eric with force, his hand landing with a loud slap. Eric bit the sheets, a combination laugh and moan escaping between his teeth. He pictured Thomas behind him, telling him his letter was a waste of time, and that all he was good for was his mouth and his arse. He thrust himself into the mattress, aching for more contact than he was getting pressed between his stomach and the bed.

Eric was so caught up in imaging Thomas that he jumped when he felt Jacob’s tongue licking his backside. Jacob dropped to his knees and licked Eric in long, smooth strokes. Eric grunted and pushed back against Jacob, waiting for him to probe him with his tongue. When Jacob finally did, Eric sighed with relief, mumbling, “yes, yes, yes,” into the sheets. Jacob stood and pulled Eric upright by his bound wrists. He kicked Eric behind the knee, dropping him to the ground.

“Open your mouth.”

Eric tipped his head back and parted his lips. Jacob grabbed Eric’s hair, holding Eric’s head steady as he fucked his mouth. Eric imagined Thomas in his mouth instead, with Price watching, telling him he would never be anything more to him than a good time. He whimpered as Jacob petted his cock with the crop, bracing himself for strike. When no strike fell, he raised his hips.

“You want me to hit you?”

“Mmm hmm,” Eric answered, his mouth full.

“Why?” Jacob asked, pulling himself out so Eric could answer.

“Because I deserve it,” Eric panted. He doubled over when Jacob finally struck him.

By the end of their session, Eric had welts in the shape of the crop from his chest to his ankles. Eric had climaxed twice over the course of two hours. The first time, he was disappointed when his orgasm snuck up on him, dribbling pathetically on the floor when Jacob slid two fingers inside him. The second time, he was on his knees, his face pressed into the ground while Jacob mounted him from behind. With each orgasm, it was Thomas he pictured inside of him, and heartache washed over him as he told himself Thomas may never be inside him again.

When Eric was finally untied, he groaned and shook out his arms, thick red rope marks up and down them like tiger stripes. Jacob kicked him down again, pointed to the ground, and told him to clean up his mess. He threw a towel next to Eric, and Eric obeyed, cleaning every drop before Jacob would allow him to get dressed.

Eric took his wallet from his jacket and gave Jacob his rate plus a sizeable tip. Jacob counted the bills and smiled, always pleased by Eric’s reward for a job well done. Eric declined when Jacob offered him tea, but stayed long enough to tell Jacob exactly why he needed to be punished that evening.

“Why don’t you send him a telegram and ask him to telephone?” Jacob asked.

“What good would that do?”

“It sounds better than waiting around for a letter that might never arrive.”

Eric thanked Jacob and left the flat. He could feel his welts swelling as he walked home, made worse by his clothing rubbing against them. It didn’t matter. It never bothered him. In fact, it was exactly the reason he liked to visit Jacob; he could leave the pain in his heart up in the flat, trading it for the pain in his body. This time, however, the pain in his heart followed him home, too.

Eric took Jacob’s advice, sending a telegram early the next day. He went to the office and was able to write the beginning of article, but couldn’t push further. He thought about backing out of dinner with Lady Edith to wait for Thomas’s telephone call, but he wanted the company and decided to go forward with their plans.

He felt bold at dinner, and spoke to Lady Edith like they were friends, leaving their manager/employee relationship back at the office. His visit at Downton had already started to break down that wall.

“You seem so much happier when you’re here,” Eric told Lady Edith while they waited for their meal to arrive.

“That’s because I am,” she said with a smile.

“Then why do you stay there?” Eric asked.

Lady Edith straightened her utensils with a finger. “I think I’ve been waiting for a man to come and sweep me off my feet. But he’s never coming.”

“Then stop waiting,” Eric said. He scooted closer to the table and rested his forearms on it as he spoke. “Let the magazine be your love. Move into your flat full time. Throw yourself into your work. Maybe a man will come, maybe he won’t, but in the meantime you’ll be much more satisfied than you are at Downton.”

Lady Edith stared at the candle on the table as she reflected on Eric’s words. “That’s not what my family expects of me.”

“It’s hard to go against other people’s expectations for you, especially when it’s your family. But it’s your life, Edith,” Eric said softly. “Nobody else’s.”

“You say that like you have experience,” Lady Edith said, looking up from the candle.

Eric smiled, but there was a wistful look in his eyes. “I haven’t met a single one of my family’s expectations.”

Dinner arrived, and Eric sat back in his chair. He waited for Lady Edith to begin eating before he took a bite. He watched the delicate way she held her knife and fork, and it reminded him that she was a ‘Lady’ and he was no one of note. “I hope I haven’t crossed the line by saying any of this.”

“Of course you haven’t. I’m thankful, really. I feel like no one in my life even notices me, so it’s encouraging to know you’ve been paying attention. Sorry to be so dreary.”

Eric sighed and finished chewing his bite of salmon before speaking. “No apologies. These days I feel like I have a little raincloud over my head. I’m the definition of dreary.”

“Well you brighten my day, if that matters.”

“It does, tremendously,” Eric said brightly.

“Perhaps I will take your advice. I’ll live here full time and we can be sad sacks together.”

Eric covered his mouth with his napkin, a laugh about to escape while he chewed. “My misery would love your company.”

Lady Edith took a sip of wine. “Golly, Eric. You really might have me convinced. If there were any time for me to make a move, it’s now, when the magazine really needs me.”

“Cheers to that,” Eric said, raising his glass.

“Cheers to you,” Lady Edith said, raising her glass as well.

Eric’s evening with Lady Edith thoroughly distracted him, but as soon as they bid farewell, his anxiety came back full force. He rushed to his boarding house, but there were no messages for him. He undressed for bed and stood in front of his mirror. He ran his fingers across the darkest welts on his chest and abdomen, then turned in the mirror to look at the ones on his backside. A knock on his door startled him, and he grabbed for his trousers.

“Someone on the telephone for you,” a voice advised.

Eric threw on his trousers, undershirt, and slippers, bursting through his door as though he were escaping a fire. He galloped down the stairs to the small phone room off of the front hall. He shut the door, but paused before picking up the receiver. He swallowed and held his breath. “Hello?”

“Eric? Are you alright?” Thomas asked gently.

Thomas’s voice traveled through Eric’s ear and straight to his heart. He wanted to pull the rest of Thomas through the phone and into his arms. “No,” he admitted. “I’m not.”

“I got your telegram this morning, but I had to wait for everyone to go to bed before I could phone. What’s the matter?”

“I sent it because I couldn’t wait for a response in writing. I need to know what you’re thinking.”

“Oh,” Thomas said, as though he expected news of some emergency. “I don’t quite know what to think. If you were really in love with me, why wouldn’t you have realized it sooner?”

Eric squeezed the telephone base in his hand. “Because I’ve been trying to convince myself I’m not in love with you. Our lives were too different for me to ever consider it. But if you’re here-”

“I don’t think you’re in love,” Thomas cut in. “Like you said when you were here, you’re in lust.”

“That’s just it - it’s different with you. I’m often in lust, but I’ve never felt this way before.”

“What way?”

Eric closed his eyes, tears gathering in his lashes. “I think of you constantly. What you’re doing, what you’re thinking, what you’re feeling. I see something in a shop and wonder if it’s something you might like. I eat something and wonder if it’s the kind of flavor you enjoy. Every book I read, I get distracted from the pages wondering what you’ll think about it when I send it to you. When I close my eyes and imagine you, it’s not just a visual experience. I know your taste, your smell, your touch. I carry you with me everywhere even though we’re almost never together. You’re the first thing on my mind when I wake up and the last thing I think about when I go to bed. I realize now that it’s why I rushed to you after India, before even coming home. I’m not adept at understanding my emotions, or my behavior, but this much I know is true; I love you, Thomas.”

The other end of the line was silent.

Eric wiped his eyes with his undershirt. “So there you have it. How do you feel about me?”

There was another pause before Thomas spoke. “I feel something for you that I can’t quite explain. It’s not just desire, though there’s certainly plenty of that.”

A small bit of hope bubbled up in Eric. “I can’t describe how relieved I am to hear that.”

“But you know I have feelings for David that I have no trouble describing,” Thomas said, popping Eric’s bubble.

“Yes. I know that all too well. I told you to pursue him, afterall.”

“Then what was your aim writing that letter? In sending the a telegram, in telling me any of this?”

“It’s just as I wrote. I had to try. If there’s even the smallest, most infinitesimal chance that you love me back, it was worth trying.”

“Is it really me you want? David told me about your kiss.”

“Did he?” Eric laughed uneasily. “Well, what can I say? Your flirting, his flirting, both of you teasing me about the three of us being together. The enticing little look he gave me when he was fitting the watch on my wrist. What would you have thought if you were in my shoes?”

“Enticing little look?” Thomas asked skeptically.

“It was there in his eyes, I wasn’t seeing things. But I didn’t kiss him because it’s him I want. I thought he was giving me a sign that I could be part of your relationship. Clearly, I was mistaken.”

“Tell me something else, then. You say you realized you loved me after you left. Since you got back, have you been with anyone else?”

Eric searched for the right words to say. “Not romantically,” was the best answer that came to mind, which was met with another period of silence from the other end of the line. “He’s just someone I go to when I need to clear my head,” he added.

“I have a smoke when I need to clear my head. You go out and get buggered?”

“You can’t be too surprised, can you? Copulation is my comfort and my crutch. It’s sick, isn’t it? Hell, if I told you the details you’d probably hang up at once.”

Thomas’s tone mellowed. “The details aren’t my business.”

“Any of my business is your business, if you want it to be.”

Thomas’s tone was softer still. “If there was no David, you know I would.”

“Yes, you’ve said that. I think you love me, but I know you love him more.”

“It’s different.”

“Either way, I have no chance,” Eric said, sniffling. “I’ve ruined our friendship, haven’t I?”

“No, no,” Thomas said soothingly. “You don’t have to wonder about my friendship. You’ll always have that.”

“Could you say it? If you feel it, even if it’s ‘different,’ can I hear the words just once?”

“Eric…”

“I won’t push again or do anything to interfere. I know where we stand. I know I’m not invited into what you have with him. But him aside, I’d feel more sane if we both acknowledged what there is between us before this call is over.”

Eric heard Thomas exhale deeply through his nose. “Yes,” Thomas whispered. “I love you.”

Eric pushed the phone receiver against his ear, as if it would help hold the words in longer. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry I can’t give you what you want.”

“I might have had a chance, but I missed it. I’m the sorry one.”

“Are you coming this way any time soon?”

Eric smiled. “Do you want me to?”

“If you can make up another good excuse.”

“You just want me to come so I secure another hotel room for your own night of buggery.”

Eric could hear Thomas’s smile in his reply. “I mean I wouldn’t turn it down.”

Eric sighed. “We’ll see each other, one way or another. And I’ll write. I’ll always write.”

“I’ll write back.”

“I’m saying it again, and then I’m hanging up. I love you, Thomas,” Eric said, replacing the handset to prevent hearing Thomas say ‘goodbye’ without retuning his ‘I love you.’

Eric returned to his room, avoiding curious stares from his housemates in the parlor. He packed for his trip, tossing a new set of stationary into his suitcase. He sat on his bed and kicked off his slippers, but his typewriter caught his eye. He inserted a new piece of paper, pushed the carriage to the right, and typed away at the keys, the words finally flowing easily.
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Footman in Training