Good Night
Sep. 24th, 2011 10:10 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anteros_lmcTitle: Good Night
Author: Anteros
Characters: Kennedy / Hornblower
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Porn. For those who complained that my last effort wasn't naughty enough. Will this do? ;) Oh, and profuse apologies to Ben Littlehales, the very real and very gallant lieutenant of the Amazon. I don't know the name of any of the officers of the Revolutionnaire so Jamieson is made up.
I
It had been a characteristically profitable cruise for the western squadron; four prizes in seven days and all of them brought safely in to Falmouth by prize crews captained by various junior officers of the squadron. All had made good time into port where they were left to kick their heels and squander their share of the prize money as they waited for the ships of the squadron to put in for routine repairs and victualing.
Acting Lieutenant Kennedy of the Indefatigable had been the last to bring home his prize, a rather sorry looking chasse maree of questionable provenance, he sailed into Falmouth road a full day behind the rest of the company. After gladly handing the vessel over to the port authorities and dealing with the inevitable paperwork Kennedy made his way to join an extremely anxious Lieutenant Hornblower at a comfortable inn some way from the docks. He found his friend seated by the parlour window, a jug of ale and a copy of the Gazette on the table before him, both evidently untouched.
“Ah Captain Kennedy! Pleasant cruise I trust?” Hornblower smiled broadly, anxiety giving way to obvious relief.
Archie tossed his hat on to the table and dropped heavily into the seat beside him. He looked tired and grimy.
“On my word Horatio, that scow sailed like a bloody pig. I’m glad to be shot of her. The frogs should be paying us for taking a tub like that off their hands.” He gratefully accepted the mug of ale that Hornblower pushed across the table towards him. “You?”
“Aye, not a bad run.” Horatio smiled guiltily. “Actually, truth be told, she sailed sweeter than any vessel I’ve yet had the pleasure of boarding,” he paused just long enough for the smile to curve into something less innocent, “present company excepted of course.”
Archie grimaced. “Trust you to have all the bloody luck.” Hornblower had indeed been lucky to be despatched to take possession of a very fine twelve gun cutter, that the Indefatigable had wrested from a careless privateer.
“I swear Archie, she could do everything but talk!”
“All right, Mr Hornblower, no need to rub it in.” Archie stretched wearily and rubbed his eyes.
“Sorry.” Horatio attempted to look contrite but only succeeded in looking even more smug. “You’ve caught the sun Archie.”
Archie wrinkled his nose, which had acquired a deep golden glow. “I’m not surprised, I’ve spent the last three days on deck. Didn’t dare go below, the mast looked like it was ready to go by the board at any minute.”
“And what about you Mr Kennedy? Are you ready to go by the board?”
Archie rolled his eyes. “No indeed Mr Hornblower. I am ready to go for a long bath and a hot dinner. After that we shall see.” He drained his mug, rose and departed, leaving Horatio to smirk into the remainder of his ale.
II
That evening they dined in one of Falmouth’s more fashionable clubs, and though it may not have held a candle to the quality establishments of Portsmouth, they enjoyed a fine meal with little expense spared. By the time they were making their way back to their inn Archie was making a poor show of stifling ever more frequent yawns. Horatio however was fidgeting restlessly, the remainder of his prize money burning a hole in his top pocket. Archie knew his companion well enough to know he would not settle until he had tried his hand at the tables so they parted amicably and went their separate ways. Horatio hurried off to his cards and Archie returned alone to their inn where he took up station in the parlour with a large brandy and a thick volume of Donne that had put paid to a not inconsiderable portion of his own prize money earlier in the day.
Lost among the eloquent verses and sensuous elegies Archie was oblivious to the passing hours until he was roused by the arrival of Lieutenant Littlehales of the Amazon and Mr Jamieson, master’s mate of the Revolutionnaire. They had brought their own prizes home the previous day, close on the heels of Hornblower’s smart cutter, and were both flush with fine spirits and good humour. Despite the lateness of the hour, they insisted that Archie stay and toast the continued success of the squadron and called for a bottle of good brandy to replenish his glass. Weary though he was it was no hardship for Archie to accept their invitation. Ben Littlehales was a bright and gregarious young man whose company Archie had grown fond of. He was less familiar with Jamieson but he had an open, easy manner that many of the officers of the squadron shared, despite their diverse backgrounds and stations in life.
III
It was much later when Archie finally retired, and as he ascended the stairs to the room he realised he was rather more inebriated than he had appreciated. Inebriated or no, he also felt considerably more lively than when he had parted from Hornblower earlier in the evening and he could not prevent a twinge of disappointment that his companion would not be there to entertain his high spirits. Consequently he was pleasantly surprised to find the lamp burning low and the long form of Horatio Hornblower lying sound asleep on the bed. It was unusual for Horatio to return from a night at the tables much before dawn and Archie’s delight at his return was tempered by the suspicion that his unexpected presence was the result of a run of bad luck, which would no doubt leave him in a black humour the following day.
Glancing towards the bed to ensure Horatio was dead to the world, Archie deftly rifled through the pockets of his jacket, shirt and waistcoat which were draped over a chair by the hearth. To his surprise, and no little relief, he found a thick wad of notes folded neatly in the upper pocket of his shirt. Lucky Devil he smiled. Hornblower may have been an inveterate gambler but he never let a run of luck turn his head, and he knew all too well that it would be unseemly for a junior lieutenant to fleece the senior officers with whom he played on too regular a basis. Clearly luck had smiled on Hornblower that evening and he had had the good sense to quit while his winnings were still on the respectable side of fortunate.
Archie found himself grinning in benign disbelief at Horatio’s seemingly endless good fortune as he shrugged off his jacket and waistcoat, kicked off his shoes and stockings and crossed the room to the bedside. It was a warm June evening and Horatio had kicked most of the bed clothes on to the floor except for a light sheet which was draped over his waist. The temptation was more than a man of Archie’s constitution and intoxication could bear, he lifted one corner of the sheet and tugged gently until it slid to the floor leaving Horatio stretched on his back naked as the day and sound to the world.
Awake or asleep, Archie never tired of looking at Horatio Hornblower. There was a purity to his form and features that drew him like a lode stone and held him spellbound. A purity that Archie had long believed was beyond the likes of him. However much as he reveled in the sight of Horatio’s beauty unadorned he couldn’t prevent a pang of sickening guilt. The thought of anyone, even Horatio, exposing him in such a way turned his stomach.
It was different for Hornblower, despite his habitual reserve and natural diffidence he was remarkably uninhibited about his body. As a young gentleman he had undressed perfunctorily in the crowded press of the midshipmen’s berth with neither shyness nor complaint. Even now as a commissioned lieutenant he thought nothing of showering under the half-deck pump, an idiosyncrasy that had initially amused the men no end but which now passed without comment.
There was a time when Archie had been similarly blasé about his own body. As a child he and his brothers had spent long summer days running naked on the Ayrshire shore and swimming in the sea that was always freezing no matter how warm the sun. Later as a youth he had delighted in the back stage chaos of Drury Lane where actors and actresses alike stripped and dressed with little time or inclination for inhibition. And if one or two of their youthful admirers had shed their own clothes and inhibitions along the way then certainly there was no one to bat an eyelid.
It had been Archie’s misfortune to carry such unrestrained confidence aboard Justinian where he paid a hard price for his candid outgoing nature. He could still feel the foul breath hot on the back of his neck, hear the hateful voice hissing in his ear. “Shameless little cunt aren’t you? Let’s see what you’ve got for Jack then.”
Archie squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated all his will on pushing back the fearful darkness threatening to overwhelm him. Time slowed and crawled and when he finally opened his eyes and regained the light he could not say if an hour had passed or a minute, however he was surprised to find himself still standing over Horatio’s naked sleeping form, one corner of the sheet tightly clenched in his fist. He hastily draped the linen back over his sleeping companion and shook his head to dislodge the taint of shame and horror. Resisting the temptation to climb into bed in shirt and breeches he turned to undress, purposefully and methodically removing every last garment. There was no place for fear and shame here. Then he trimmed the lamp and slid naked into bed.
IV
As Archie settled beside him, Horatio turned his head on the pillow but didn’t waken. Archie resisted the overwhelming temptation to curl around the long warm body, instead he propped himself up on one elbow and regarded his sleeping companion. Horatio shed years when he slept, his features softening and relaxing, the habitual frown evening out, leaving just a trace of a line between his brows, the stern mouth parting into a languid bow. Archie could not look at his sleeping shipmate without being reminded of the bedraggled boy that had clambered aboard Justinian so many lifetimes before. He drank in every curve, line and contour of his familiar face and form. The wayward black curls that resisted every attempt at containment, the high arched brows and long dark lashes that fluttered against his cheek with each deep even breath, the long straight nose. Despite Horatio’s reservations, Archie regarded it as a very fine nose and told him so on a regular basis, reminding Horatio what they said about men with long noses, and quietly congratulating himself when he was rewarded with a bright scarlet blush. But his fine nose had nothing on his lips. Archie had always had difficulty looking at, or even thinking about, Horatio’s lips without squirming. Once, having let cheek get the better of him, he told Horatio that he had the most indecent lips in the service. Horatio had been genuinely offended and had cold shouldered him for several days until Archie was able to corner him alone in his cabin, got down on bended knee and used his own smart tongue to prove how sorry he was. He had, of course, been forgiven.
The memory of taking Horatio in his mouth made Archie’s prick stiffen beneath the sheet. He settled himself on the pillow beside Horatio and placed one hand gently on his warm taut belly. Horatio exhaled a long breath, causing a dark curl to flicker against Archie’s cheek. He remained still for a moment to see if Horatio would stir. When he showed no signs of wakening Archie slid his hand downwards over one long straight thigh. Another long breath, but no more. Archie’s patient hand moved upwards again. Horatio’s prick was lying curled and quiet on its dark mat of curls. Archie ran one finger over its length and felt it stiffen slightly in response, then he slid his fingers down over Horatio’s balls, cradling them gently in his palm. This time Horatio groaned in response, he turned his head on the pillow lips falling open. Archie remained motionless for a few moments listening to Horatio’s breath quicken, then he slid his hand up again to his prick and circled it lightly in his hand. It was still soft and quiet but a bead of moisture glistened at the tip. Archie was already hard and wet and he pushed up against Horatio’s hip to ease the pressure. He tightened his grip on Horatio’s shaft and felt the responding pressure building beneath his fingers. Horatio breath was quickening now as Archie started to move his hand, slowly at first, over his hard smooth length. The warm skin slid deliciously under his fingers and Horatio’s hips were rising from the bed to meet each stroke. Horatio groaned and his eyes fluttered open, holding Archie’s gaze for a moment before closing again as his head tilted back on the pillow. With the next arching thrust Archie slid his free hand down under Horatio’s arse and was rewarded with a soft hiss of assent. Horatio’s own hands were seeking him out now. One went round his neck and into his hair, pulling him down into a long hard kiss. The other sliding lower, tangling in the sheet as it went. Aching as he was, Archie shifted away from the questing hand and kept up a smooth steady stroke, determined to hold back, to set the pace. Horatio was breathing hard now, pleading between breathless oaths, forcing his hips down into Archie’s open palm and up towards his sliding fingers with each subsequent stroke. Archie slid his fingers down between Horatio’s cheeks, slick with sweat, until he found the hot tight spot he was looking for. He was pleading, desperately, incoherently and Archie couldn’t hold him back for much longer. He increased the speed of his stroke, hesitated for a breath, then again, then a hesitation, then with one last rapid stroke he slid his finger into the tight sweet spot and tightened his grip. As Horatio’s heat spilled up into his hand Archie smothered his cries with a long breathless kiss.
It seemed an age before Horatio’s breath slowed and steadied but at last he opened his eyes and found his nose barely an inch from Archie’s on the pillow.
“Good night Mr Hornblower?”
“Mmmmhmmn.” Horatio’s mouth curved into a lazy smile. ‘You’re late in, Archie.”
Archie raised his brow in mock affront. “I wasn’t aware you were waiting for me Mr Hornblower, other wise I might have returned sooner. I fell in with Littlehales and Jamieson.”
“Uh huh, good night?”
“Not bad. Just one thing though…”
‘Hmn? What’s that Archie?”
“My hand’s gone to sleep. Shift your arse.”
Horatio responded with a smirk and pressed down harder onto Archie’s hand.
“Ow! Steady on, Horatio, how are we going to explain to the captain if I come back on board with a broken wrist?”
“Sorry Archie.” Horatio raised his hips, allowing Archie to retrieve his hand, then he propped himself up in one elbow as his own hand went searching below the sheet.
Archie sighed, blue eyes drifting closed as he gave himself up to Horatio's nimble, questing fingers.
“Now, let’s see what I can do to restore your circulation…”
Author: Anteros
Characters: Kennedy / Hornblower
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Porn. For those who complained that my last effort wasn't naughty enough. Will this do? ;) Oh, and profuse apologies to Ben Littlehales, the very real and very gallant lieutenant of the Amazon. I don't know the name of any of the officers of the Revolutionnaire so Jamieson is made up.
I
It had been a characteristically profitable cruise for the western squadron; four prizes in seven days and all of them brought safely in to Falmouth by prize crews captained by various junior officers of the squadron. All had made good time into port where they were left to kick their heels and squander their share of the prize money as they waited for the ships of the squadron to put in for routine repairs and victualing.
Acting Lieutenant Kennedy of the Indefatigable had been the last to bring home his prize, a rather sorry looking chasse maree of questionable provenance, he sailed into Falmouth road a full day behind the rest of the company. After gladly handing the vessel over to the port authorities and dealing with the inevitable paperwork Kennedy made his way to join an extremely anxious Lieutenant Hornblower at a comfortable inn some way from the docks. He found his friend seated by the parlour window, a jug of ale and a copy of the Gazette on the table before him, both evidently untouched.
“Ah Captain Kennedy! Pleasant cruise I trust?” Hornblower smiled broadly, anxiety giving way to obvious relief.
Archie tossed his hat on to the table and dropped heavily into the seat beside him. He looked tired and grimy.
“On my word Horatio, that scow sailed like a bloody pig. I’m glad to be shot of her. The frogs should be paying us for taking a tub like that off their hands.” He gratefully accepted the mug of ale that Hornblower pushed across the table towards him. “You?”
“Aye, not a bad run.” Horatio smiled guiltily. “Actually, truth be told, she sailed sweeter than any vessel I’ve yet had the pleasure of boarding,” he paused just long enough for the smile to curve into something less innocent, “present company excepted of course.”
Archie grimaced. “Trust you to have all the bloody luck.” Hornblower had indeed been lucky to be despatched to take possession of a very fine twelve gun cutter, that the Indefatigable had wrested from a careless privateer.
“I swear Archie, she could do everything but talk!”
“All right, Mr Hornblower, no need to rub it in.” Archie stretched wearily and rubbed his eyes.
“Sorry.” Horatio attempted to look contrite but only succeeded in looking even more smug. “You’ve caught the sun Archie.”
Archie wrinkled his nose, which had acquired a deep golden glow. “I’m not surprised, I’ve spent the last three days on deck. Didn’t dare go below, the mast looked like it was ready to go by the board at any minute.”
“And what about you Mr Kennedy? Are you ready to go by the board?”
Archie rolled his eyes. “No indeed Mr Hornblower. I am ready to go for a long bath and a hot dinner. After that we shall see.” He drained his mug, rose and departed, leaving Horatio to smirk into the remainder of his ale.
II
That evening they dined in one of Falmouth’s more fashionable clubs, and though it may not have held a candle to the quality establishments of Portsmouth, they enjoyed a fine meal with little expense spared. By the time they were making their way back to their inn Archie was making a poor show of stifling ever more frequent yawns. Horatio however was fidgeting restlessly, the remainder of his prize money burning a hole in his top pocket. Archie knew his companion well enough to know he would not settle until he had tried his hand at the tables so they parted amicably and went their separate ways. Horatio hurried off to his cards and Archie returned alone to their inn where he took up station in the parlour with a large brandy and a thick volume of Donne that had put paid to a not inconsiderable portion of his own prize money earlier in the day.
Lost among the eloquent verses and sensuous elegies Archie was oblivious to the passing hours until he was roused by the arrival of Lieutenant Littlehales of the Amazon and Mr Jamieson, master’s mate of the Revolutionnaire. They had brought their own prizes home the previous day, close on the heels of Hornblower’s smart cutter, and were both flush with fine spirits and good humour. Despite the lateness of the hour, they insisted that Archie stay and toast the continued success of the squadron and called for a bottle of good brandy to replenish his glass. Weary though he was it was no hardship for Archie to accept their invitation. Ben Littlehales was a bright and gregarious young man whose company Archie had grown fond of. He was less familiar with Jamieson but he had an open, easy manner that many of the officers of the squadron shared, despite their diverse backgrounds and stations in life.
III
It was much later when Archie finally retired, and as he ascended the stairs to the room he realised he was rather more inebriated than he had appreciated. Inebriated or no, he also felt considerably more lively than when he had parted from Hornblower earlier in the evening and he could not prevent a twinge of disappointment that his companion would not be there to entertain his high spirits. Consequently he was pleasantly surprised to find the lamp burning low and the long form of Horatio Hornblower lying sound asleep on the bed. It was unusual for Horatio to return from a night at the tables much before dawn and Archie’s delight at his return was tempered by the suspicion that his unexpected presence was the result of a run of bad luck, which would no doubt leave him in a black humour the following day.
Glancing towards the bed to ensure Horatio was dead to the world, Archie deftly rifled through the pockets of his jacket, shirt and waistcoat which were draped over a chair by the hearth. To his surprise, and no little relief, he found a thick wad of notes folded neatly in the upper pocket of his shirt. Lucky Devil he smiled. Hornblower may have been an inveterate gambler but he never let a run of luck turn his head, and he knew all too well that it would be unseemly for a junior lieutenant to fleece the senior officers with whom he played on too regular a basis. Clearly luck had smiled on Hornblower that evening and he had had the good sense to quit while his winnings were still on the respectable side of fortunate.
Archie found himself grinning in benign disbelief at Horatio’s seemingly endless good fortune as he shrugged off his jacket and waistcoat, kicked off his shoes and stockings and crossed the room to the bedside. It was a warm June evening and Horatio had kicked most of the bed clothes on to the floor except for a light sheet which was draped over his waist. The temptation was more than a man of Archie’s constitution and intoxication could bear, he lifted one corner of the sheet and tugged gently until it slid to the floor leaving Horatio stretched on his back naked as the day and sound to the world.
Awake or asleep, Archie never tired of looking at Horatio Hornblower. There was a purity to his form and features that drew him like a lode stone and held him spellbound. A purity that Archie had long believed was beyond the likes of him. However much as he reveled in the sight of Horatio’s beauty unadorned he couldn’t prevent a pang of sickening guilt. The thought of anyone, even Horatio, exposing him in such a way turned his stomach.
It was different for Hornblower, despite his habitual reserve and natural diffidence he was remarkably uninhibited about his body. As a young gentleman he had undressed perfunctorily in the crowded press of the midshipmen’s berth with neither shyness nor complaint. Even now as a commissioned lieutenant he thought nothing of showering under the half-deck pump, an idiosyncrasy that had initially amused the men no end but which now passed without comment.
There was a time when Archie had been similarly blasé about his own body. As a child he and his brothers had spent long summer days running naked on the Ayrshire shore and swimming in the sea that was always freezing no matter how warm the sun. Later as a youth he had delighted in the back stage chaos of Drury Lane where actors and actresses alike stripped and dressed with little time or inclination for inhibition. And if one or two of their youthful admirers had shed their own clothes and inhibitions along the way then certainly there was no one to bat an eyelid.
It had been Archie’s misfortune to carry such unrestrained confidence aboard Justinian where he paid a hard price for his candid outgoing nature. He could still feel the foul breath hot on the back of his neck, hear the hateful voice hissing in his ear. “Shameless little cunt aren’t you? Let’s see what you’ve got for Jack then.”
Archie squeezed his eyes shut and concentrated all his will on pushing back the fearful darkness threatening to overwhelm him. Time slowed and crawled and when he finally opened his eyes and regained the light he could not say if an hour had passed or a minute, however he was surprised to find himself still standing over Horatio’s naked sleeping form, one corner of the sheet tightly clenched in his fist. He hastily draped the linen back over his sleeping companion and shook his head to dislodge the taint of shame and horror. Resisting the temptation to climb into bed in shirt and breeches he turned to undress, purposefully and methodically removing every last garment. There was no place for fear and shame here. Then he trimmed the lamp and slid naked into bed.
IV
As Archie settled beside him, Horatio turned his head on the pillow but didn’t waken. Archie resisted the overwhelming temptation to curl around the long warm body, instead he propped himself up on one elbow and regarded his sleeping companion. Horatio shed years when he slept, his features softening and relaxing, the habitual frown evening out, leaving just a trace of a line between his brows, the stern mouth parting into a languid bow. Archie could not look at his sleeping shipmate without being reminded of the bedraggled boy that had clambered aboard Justinian so many lifetimes before. He drank in every curve, line and contour of his familiar face and form. The wayward black curls that resisted every attempt at containment, the high arched brows and long dark lashes that fluttered against his cheek with each deep even breath, the long straight nose. Despite Horatio’s reservations, Archie regarded it as a very fine nose and told him so on a regular basis, reminding Horatio what they said about men with long noses, and quietly congratulating himself when he was rewarded with a bright scarlet blush. But his fine nose had nothing on his lips. Archie had always had difficulty looking at, or even thinking about, Horatio’s lips without squirming. Once, having let cheek get the better of him, he told Horatio that he had the most indecent lips in the service. Horatio had been genuinely offended and had cold shouldered him for several days until Archie was able to corner him alone in his cabin, got down on bended knee and used his own smart tongue to prove how sorry he was. He had, of course, been forgiven.
The memory of taking Horatio in his mouth made Archie’s prick stiffen beneath the sheet. He settled himself on the pillow beside Horatio and placed one hand gently on his warm taut belly. Horatio exhaled a long breath, causing a dark curl to flicker against Archie’s cheek. He remained still for a moment to see if Horatio would stir. When he showed no signs of wakening Archie slid his hand downwards over one long straight thigh. Another long breath, but no more. Archie’s patient hand moved upwards again. Horatio’s prick was lying curled and quiet on its dark mat of curls. Archie ran one finger over its length and felt it stiffen slightly in response, then he slid his fingers down over Horatio’s balls, cradling them gently in his palm. This time Horatio groaned in response, he turned his head on the pillow lips falling open. Archie remained motionless for a few moments listening to Horatio’s breath quicken, then he slid his hand up again to his prick and circled it lightly in his hand. It was still soft and quiet but a bead of moisture glistened at the tip. Archie was already hard and wet and he pushed up against Horatio’s hip to ease the pressure. He tightened his grip on Horatio’s shaft and felt the responding pressure building beneath his fingers. Horatio breath was quickening now as Archie started to move his hand, slowly at first, over his hard smooth length. The warm skin slid deliciously under his fingers and Horatio’s hips were rising from the bed to meet each stroke. Horatio groaned and his eyes fluttered open, holding Archie’s gaze for a moment before closing again as his head tilted back on the pillow. With the next arching thrust Archie slid his free hand down under Horatio’s arse and was rewarded with a soft hiss of assent. Horatio’s own hands were seeking him out now. One went round his neck and into his hair, pulling him down into a long hard kiss. The other sliding lower, tangling in the sheet as it went. Aching as he was, Archie shifted away from the questing hand and kept up a smooth steady stroke, determined to hold back, to set the pace. Horatio was breathing hard now, pleading between breathless oaths, forcing his hips down into Archie’s open palm and up towards his sliding fingers with each subsequent stroke. Archie slid his fingers down between Horatio’s cheeks, slick with sweat, until he found the hot tight spot he was looking for. He was pleading, desperately, incoherently and Archie couldn’t hold him back for much longer. He increased the speed of his stroke, hesitated for a breath, then again, then a hesitation, then with one last rapid stroke he slid his finger into the tight sweet spot and tightened his grip. As Horatio’s heat spilled up into his hand Archie smothered his cries with a long breathless kiss.
It seemed an age before Horatio’s breath slowed and steadied but at last he opened his eyes and found his nose barely an inch from Archie’s on the pillow.
“Good night Mr Hornblower?”
“Mmmmhmmn.” Horatio’s mouth curved into a lazy smile. ‘You’re late in, Archie.”
Archie raised his brow in mock affront. “I wasn’t aware you were waiting for me Mr Hornblower, other wise I might have returned sooner. I fell in with Littlehales and Jamieson.”
“Uh huh, good night?”
“Not bad. Just one thing though…”
‘Hmn? What’s that Archie?”
“My hand’s gone to sleep. Shift your arse.”
Horatio responded with a smirk and pressed down harder onto Archie’s hand.
“Ow! Steady on, Horatio, how are we going to explain to the captain if I come back on board with a broken wrist?”
“Sorry Archie.” Horatio raised his hips, allowing Archie to retrieve his hand, then he propped himself up in one elbow as his own hand went searching below the sheet.
Archie sighed, blue eyes drifting closed as he gave himself up to Horatio's nimble, questing fingers.
“Now, let’s see what I can do to restore your circulation…”
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no subject
Date: 2011-09-24 09:51 pm (UTC)You are now forgiven for the lack of filth in your previous fic, and not only do you have filth you have some nice little character moments with Horatio's dorktastic boarding puns (the silver tongued devil)and Archie's lingering issues.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-24 10:25 pm (UTC)If I outlive you, I'd be delighted to do the honours!
not only do you have filth you have some nice little character moments
Well y'know, what's filth without character?!
Archie's lingering issues.
He wouldn't be Archie if he didn't have lingering issues.
Hope this helped counteract any residual fragileness ;)
no subject
Date: 2011-09-24 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-24 10:45 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-09-25 12:52 am (UTC)I can only imagine how Archie rushed through that prize paperwork.
There is something especially moving to me about the two of them deliberately pushing the ugly past back and away-- and you write that so well.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-25 02:47 pm (UTC)I can only imagine how Archie rushed through that prize paperwork.
Rofl! Aye I'll bet he did! Actually I have no idea if there was paperwork to complete when handing over a prize, but given the amount of paperwork the Admiralty generated it doesn't seem unlikely!
the two of them deliberately pushing the ugly past back and away
Oh yes, I don't think Archie will ever truly escape from his past but he can choose not to let it dictate his future.
no subject
Date: 2011-09-25 08:15 pm (UTC)but for the context and for young Bendall and the sense of prize taking and homing and of the pleasure and pride those young men of the western sqaudron surely have
More later I hope = but delightful. Think Bracey should get a medal for services to doing without his junior colleagues allowing for shore leave - er activities!
no subject
Date: 2011-09-25 08:31 pm (UTC)Think Bracey should get a medal for services to doing without his junior colleagues allowing for shore leave - er activities!
Lol! Yes indeed! He had better get the rest of the squadron to Falmouth to pick them up again then hadn't he?!
no subject
Date: 2011-09-25 07:55 am (UTC)I also liked it that you wrote both of them having a pleasant evening in individual pursuits, rather than one languishing in need of the other. It gives their relationship a maturity that's nice to see, and not often portrayed.
Jack Simpson's lines, although brief are so powerful and sinister. Eeww!
no subject
Date: 2011-09-25 02:52 pm (UTC)both of them having a pleasant evening in individual pursuits, rather than one languishing in need of the other.
Aye, they can't be angsting about each other all the time! And I think they do eventually achieve some kind of balanced relationship. It certainly seems that way by the time they reach Renown
Jack Simpson's lines, although brief are so powerful and sinister.
I find Simpson a truly, truly frightening and malignant character.