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“Roy,” Jamie puts his entire chest into the whine, pairing it with his puppy eyes. He blinks at Roy owlishly, jutting his bottom lip out. “Roy. Please. I’m being good. Will you please tell me where we’re going for our honeymoon?”
They worked together on the wedding planning, but the honeymoon had been handed over to Roy at his own insistence. He was being extremely tight-lipped about the entire thing, and it was driving Jamie more than a little mad. The wedding had been spectacular of course–and now Jamie Tartt was legally Jamie Kent, and it felt like every dream he ever had as a sexy little baby was finally coming true. Despite the unknown of it, Jamie was looking forward to finally getting a break from all of it. No one told him getting married was so stressful.
But now Roy is carting him off to some unknown location. They’re on the plane and Jamie still has no idea–Roy made him wear noise canceling headphones in Heathrow and everything. But Jamie is Jamie, and even with a new gold band sitting pretty on his ring finger he was born to annoy Roy.
“Is it a five star resort?” Jamie asks, poking at Roy’s arm. “Oh. Is it a less than five star resort and you’re embarrassed? That’s why you won’t tell me?”
Roy pinches his nose, taking the flute of champagne from Jamie’s hand and setting it on the little tray by their seats. “Sweetheart,” he says quietly, soft and sweet enough to make something in Jamie’s chest crack open. “Can you wait another hour? You’re going to make me go gray.”
Jamie perks up. “You would be dead fit with gray hair.”
Roy growls in the back of his throat, gripping at Jamie’s wrist. Jamie welcomes it with a flash of his teeth. But he’s been with Roy long enough that he’s learned when to pick his battles, and Roy can be a right stubborn bastard when he wants to be–Jamie knows deep down he will be learning where Roy is taking him on their honeymoon whenever they get there and not a moment before. He spends the rest of the flight to wherever curled into Roy’s side, playing clicky games on his phone while Roy strokes his hair.
It’s a whirlwind from there. They disembark the plane, and immediately take a cab from the airport to a… boat dock? Where Roy takes Jamie’s hand and leads him onto a small passenger boat like it’s nothing.
“Where the fuck are you taking me?” Jamie asks with wide eyes, but it's more of a statement of awe than a real question. Either way, Roy doesn’t offer an answer. But Jamie now has to add can apparently drive a boat to the strange list of things he uncovers about Roy constantly. At least he knows he’ll never be bored a day in his life with Roy–a thought that makes him grin into his hand.
The water is calm, and the sky is lit up around them in a sunset so beautiful Jamie is certain if Dani were here, it would move him to tears. Jamie’s so enthralled by it that he nearly misses when Roy reaches over to tap his arm.
“Up to your standards?” He asks, and Jamie’s heart stutters. In front of them, starting to come into view, is a small island. Jamie can see a beach straight away, and lots of greenery. He moves closer to Roy so that he’s by his side, leaning into his warmth.
“Oh, shit. It’s beautiful,” Jamie breathes. He’s thinking about how private it must be, and how Roy’s going to be able to make him scream. “Where are we?”
Roy’s arm wraps around his waist, squeezing. There’s a set of his jaw, and Jamie realizes he’s nervous. Like Roy wasn’t sure if he would like it?
“This,” Roy says slowly, hand rubbing comforting circles into Jamie’s hip. “Is Isle Jay.”
“Babe,” Jamie’s heart thumps loudly in his chest. “You found an island named after me for our honeymoon? Dead romantic, that.”
“I didn’t… find it.”
“You had Kathy do it? No shame in that. She’s top class.”
“Jamie. I didn’t find it. I bought it. For you. It’s yours.”
The world stops. Spins on its axis. When he can breathe again, Roy is still looking at him, like he’s unsure how Jamie will feel about it. As if Jamie could be anything less than charmed, anything less than head over heels, anything less than grateful and devoted and so in love he feels stupid with it.
He throws his arms around Roy instantly. Roy grunts, one hand still on the wheel of the boat like the safe driver he is, but the other wraps around Jamie’s back and holds him tight enough that Jamie believes he might never let go.
“You bought me an island,” Jamie whispers, close enough that he can feel Roy’s breath where it hits his collar bone. He doesn’t know what to do with himself. “Course you did. I’m irresistible. I would buy me things too.”
Roy is a wealthy man, and he loves to spend it on Jamie. Never mind the fact that Jamie is well on his way to making just as much, Roy likes to take care of Jamie. To provide for him. And Jamie–well, he just likes to be spoiled.
“I love you,” he tacks on, so that Roy doesn’t get any ideas. “Shit, Roy. This is fucking brilliant.”
Roy grunts. Jamie smiles. They spend the rest of the short ride to the beach of the island in silence, and Roy once again grabs Jamie’s hand to help him off the boat. It makes him feel cared for. Beloved. Like he definitely doesn’t need to help Roy tie up the boat, even when ROy gives him that look, and like he can start exploring the island that Roy bought just for him.
Tucked up on the shore, maybe 50 paces from the beach, was a villa straight out of a postcard. It put every lads holiday in Ibiza to fucking shame. An entire wall of it was windows, and Jamie was already buzzing with the need to curl up in the sunlight streaming through them like a cat. Tucked around the back he spots–
“Roy. Did you put a football net behind the house on our private island?”
“Wanted you to be able to have a kick about if you wanted to,” Roy shrugs. “Do you want to see inside?”
Jamie tears his eyes away from the net that Roy had put up just for him with great difficulty to catch Roy’s eyes again. He looked so soft like this, in a black shirt and soft pants for traveling, with a smile in his eyes and Jamie’s ring on his finger. “Can we go in?” he asks, tongue thick in his throat.
Roy grunts in agreement, leading Jamie up to the front stoop. But–
He stops at the door and crosses his arms, petulant.
“Roy,” he whines, dragging out the o for as long as he thinks he can get away with. Roy pauses too, turning back to look at him with his caterpillar eyebrows furrowed.
“Do you… not like it?”
“Wha—fuck off, of course I like it. Roy, it’s brilliant. I just mean, we’re married now, ain’t we? Aren’t you going to–you know?” Jamie makes a crude gesture that he hopes conveys the want for Roy to pick him up and carry him inside. Like the couples in the movies did. He isn’t sure what it’s called, but he knows that he wants it so badly he can’t breathe with it.
“You want me to carry you over the threshold? What is this, the 1950s?”
Ah, threshold. That’s the bugger. Jamie opens his mouth to defend himself, but he snaps it shut when he takes in the expression on Roy’s face. The line of his mouth is set but his eyebrows are lifted and. Well, damn it. He’s trying not to laugh. Jamie sticks his lower lip out in a pout, and luckily that’s all it takes. Jamie isn’t light, but Roy keeps well enough in shape that he’s able to scoop Jamie up into his arms bridal style for long enough to carry him over the threshold. Jamie’s giggling the whole way, and when Roy sets him on his feet on the other side Jamie is flushed with love and laughter.
Roy presses a kiss to his mouth, then another. “You’re so beautiful,” he says. “Jamie Kent.”
“Say it again,” Jamie breathes, and already Roy is starting to move them towards a wide open set of doors that Jamie can see a massive four poster bed through. He feels too small for his skin, like he’s bursting at the seams with all of the love and the giddiness welled up inside of him. “Roy. Tell me again.”
“I love you. Jamie Kent. My love–”
Jamie cuts him off with a kiss, breathless with love and desire, and lets himself be led into the bedroom.
***
Jamie wakes up feeling disoriented.
He isn’t in their bed, and there’s a… breeze coming through the room? Roy is beside him, snoring like a fucking bear, and it makes Jamie smile. Wiping the sleep from his eyes, Jamie sits up, letting it all flood back to him. The villa doors are open to the night, and the moonlight is filtering into the room softly. Jamie has to close his eyes and smile, resisting the urge to bury his face into the pillow next to him and scream. He feels nearly delirious with it–he’s in bed, on his honeymoon with his fucking husband, and it’s all so much that Jamie has to climb out of the bed and take a lap.
The villa is soft and still at night. Jamie doesn’t turn on any lights, just pads softly into the kitchen to fix himself a cuppa. On the way, he catches a glimpse of himself in the large, gold rimmed mirror, and smiles at his reflection. His hips are covered in hand shaped bruises, his hair is stuck up every which way. But he's glowing with happiness. In the darkness, Jamie is almost certain that he’s shining like a fucking star.
Jamie doesn’t bother with clothes after that. There’s no one here to see him–and besides, he almost wishes they could. He feels the most beautiful he has in years, wearing nothing but Roy’s marks and his wedding band on his finger.
The kitchen is quiet, and Jamie almost doesn’t want to break it by putting the kettle on. Roy’s had the fridge stocked too, which is dead nice, and Jamie’s cataloging the snacks inside when he hears Roy’s footsteps behind him.
“Jay?” Roy’s voice is thick with sleep. Jamie turns to face him, and grins. Roy hadn’t bothered with much clothing either, only his boxers slung low on his hips.
“Sorry. Woke up and needed to stretch my legs. You have a proper spread in here, Royo.”
“Oh, yeah. Had them come up yesterday to clean and fill it up. Are you hungry? I can make you something.”
It’s the middle of the fucking night, and they’re all alone in this massive villa on this massive island that Roy bought for him, and it’s all so absurd and larger than life that Jamie just stops, leaving the refrigerator open behind him.
Jamie can’t help it. He buries his face in his hands, and laughs.
“Shit,” Roy curses. “The fuck did I say?”
“Nothing,” Jamie says, giggles still not subsiding. He looks up, catching Roy’s eyes, and he smiles. “Just–fucking mad, innit?”
“What–”
Jamie takes pity on him immediately, not liking the way Roy’s brow is furrowed in concentration, clearly trying to sort out whatever Jamie’s talking about this time. Jamie grabs his hand, wrapping their fingers together.
“You bought me a fucking island, mate,” Jamie breathes. “Like, a proper fucking private island with our own private villa and our own private beaches. I love it, honest. But that doesn’t make it any less mad.”
Roy takes a deep breath, then another. Jamie knows he’s working through his feeling, so he doesn’t push. Just smiles at his feet, then at the fridge, then at Roy’s profile bathed in the soft light. Jamie’s so happy, he could live in the warm glow of this moment forever.
“I want to give you the world,” Roy finally says, breaking the silence. His hand squeezes Jamie’s nearly tight enough to bruise. It makes Jamie’s smile widen. “Jay, you have to know that if you asked, I would buy you anything, give you anything. There’s nothing I can give you that will ever be enough.”
It knocks the breath straight out of Jamie’s lungs. Carefully, as to not burst the bubble, as if moving too fast will burn out the soft light of the open fridge, will make the earnest turn of Roy’s eyebrows disappear–carefully, Jamie cups Roy’s face in his hands. His beard is warm, scratchy, wonderful beneath Jamie’s palms, and Jamie takes a shaky breath. Still, it feels as if his lungs won’t hold it.
“Roy,” he says slowly, softly, not daring to shatter the glass around them. If he says it enough times, it might make his heart stop pounding or his cheeks stop flushing–but he wouldn’t count on that. “Roy. I don’t need the world. Yeah? I just want you.”
It’s not nearly enough to describe the burning inside of Jamie’s chest when Roy so much as looks at him. It doesn’t encompass how fucking giddy he feels whenever Roy does buy him something, or the way his heart does summersaults when Roy lets Jamie buy him something. I just want you– it’s the truth, but it leaves so much out. Because Jamie wants Roy, but he wants every little piece of the life Roy will give him. He wants to wake up next to him every single day for the rest of their lives, to play footy with Phoebe and have dinner with Rachel, to have children together someday, and to fall even more in love with Roy every time he sees him.
Well, Jamie’s corner of his mouth tips upwards without his permission. He at least has the last one covered.
Roy’s dark eyes look suspiciously wet where they’re looking down on Jamie, and if it wasn’t in the middle of the night, with both of them half naked and covered in the night before, Jamie might make fun of him. Instead, he brushes his thumb beneath Roy’s eye, and doesn’t speak.
“My love,” Roy says softly. “Baby.”
“Yes,” Jamie answers. Proudly. He is.
“You have me,” Roy finally responds to Jamie’s earlier sentiment and it’s–it’s a lot, okay? Jamie swallows around the lump in his throat, rolling onto the balls of his feet to press a kiss to Roy’s lips. Roy’s steady arm wraps around Jamie’s waist and Jamie allows himself to melt into it. It’s another oversimplification, but the edges of it line up perfectly with Jamie’s with a satisfying click.
You have me. Jamie did, didn’t he? Roy’s free hand came up to touch the back of Jamie’s hand where it was still cupped on his face, brushing against the ring on Jamie’s finger. Jamie’s cheeks burn, and he leans in for another kiss.
“Don’t stop with the gifts though, babe,” Jamie can’t help himself from saying when they pull away. Roy rolls his eyes.
“Spoiled brat.”
“Whose fault is that?”
Roy’s eyes are crinkled around the edges, the way they are only when he’s truly happy. Any trace of moisture in them is gone, and instead he cheekily squeezes Jamie’s bum. “My spoiled brat. Now come back to bed, you terrible thing. I’m cold.”
Jamie perks up at that, grabbing onto Roy’s arm and allowing himself to be dragged back towards the bedroom. The doors to the beach are still open, and if Jamie concentrates he can hear the waves crashing along the shore. Inevitable, innit, he thinks to himself, how the waves will always meet the shore. Like Roy and I. Then he realizes what he just thought, and laughs to himself. Been spending too much time with Keeley, he has.
“Could suck you off before we go back to bed,” Jamie offers to get his mind out of the gutter and onto more important things.
“Could do,” Roy says mildly, pulling Jamie onto the bed. “Could just go back to sleep.”
“And you’ll fuck me again in the morning? It’s our honeymoon.”
“What did I say? Spoiled brat.”
But he opens an arm from Jamie to snuggle up into, and he presses a kiss, then two, then three, to Jamie’s hair. Roy smells like the ocean and home, and Jamie loves him. And tomorrow they’ll go out and explore the entire fucking island Roy bought, just for Jamie, and Jamie will be posting about it on every social media platform he owns. But for now all that matters is the rise and fall of Roy’s chest where Jamie is laying on top of it, and the glint of their wedding bands in the moonlight.