Don't care
Oct. 31st, 2010 12:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
anteros_lmcTitle: Don't Care
Author: Anteros
Characters: Archie Kennedy / Horatio Hornblower
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Outrageously fluffy pointless porn. Guaranteed 100% plot free!
Horatio was pinned down. He couldn't move but he didn't care. The world could stop turning and he wouldn't care. All this life he had chaffed against idleness and immobility of both mind and body. Even as a child he had an ingrained inability to do nothing, he could not just be. Horatio always had to be doing something, anything to keep his restless spirit from turning in on itself. From dwelling on the impossible pain that filled the space once encircled by his mother’s arms, from the solitude and loneliness that he tried to convince himself he didn’t mind, from the suspicion that he just wasn’t like other boys who laughed and cursed and stole horses to ride wildly round the field and chased the girls who shrieked and giggled but always contrived to be caught and kissed. Horatio wasn’t like that, but he hadn't cared.
Lately though Horatio had learned to be still. He had learned many things recently. How to tie a sheet bend, how to ascend to the main top without his head spinning, how to run out a gun, how to heave the log. And he had learned other things.
The teacher of these other things was currently curled sleeping by his side and it was his presence that accounted for Horatio's absolute stillness. Horatio was lying flat on his back staring up at the grimy roof beams of a non-descript inn in the pale thin light of an overcast autumn morning. Archie had woken him just before dawn with light kisses and long slow caresses. Horatio had been hard and wet by the time he fully surfaced into consciousness and before he could even say good morning he was pleading with Archie not to stop, please god don’t stop. And Archie hadn’t stopped until he felt Horatio’s long back draw taught like a bow, fingers digging hard into his thighs, a long low cry on his lips as their salt heat spread upwards over their bellies.
Archie was now lying sleeping by his side. One leg thrown over Horatio's body, pressing heavily on his groin. Horatio was starting to loose the feeling in his left leg and his bladder was uncomfortably full but he didn't care. Archie’s left arm was lying across his chest, his hand gripping Horatio's right wrist. Considering Archie was asleep his grip was surprisingly tight. Horatio suspected that there would be tell tale bruises there later and cursed the growth spurt that had left all his shirts and jackets a good couple of inches short in the sleeves. Archie's other arm was trapped underneath Horatio's body. He was quite sure that when Archie woke up his right arm would be as useless as Horatio's left leg and a fine pair they would make then. He thought he should probably move but given that Archie's hand was cupping one cheek of his arse he had a strong imperative to remain where he was. Instead he shifted his hips slightly to settle more comfortably into Archie's palm. Archie had small hands and, had he lived the life of a gentleman of leisure, they might have been described as refined. As it was, Archie's hands were a testament to the service; they were rough and calloused, marked all over with scars and here and there the tell tale blue-black smudges of ingrained gunpowder. Rough though they were Archie's hands were quick and clever and they knew every inch of Horatio's skin from stem to stern. Horatio's stomach fluttered and his prick twitched below Archie’s thigh as he remembered those fingers exploring and caressing, persuading and pressing until push gave way to slide and Horatio’s very core dissolved into a molten wave of heat and want. Horatio wriggled his hips again and Archie, momentarily disturbed, let out a long breath.
Archie's head was tucked into the crook of Horatio's neck, his chin pressing down sharply into his shoulder. Horatio could feel the sharp rasp of stubble prickling his skin uncomfortably. He didn't care. He didn't care because he could also feel Archie’s slow regular breath warm against his face and a faint flutter of lashes on his cheek bone. If he angled his head slightly he could just see the top of Archie’s brow and cheek and a mess of unruly hair, dark in the shadow of Horatio's arm, bright tawny gold where the wan light caught it. Horatio's left arm was almost as numb as useless as his leg but he didn't care. He had just enough feeling left in his fingers to smooth Archie’s hair back from his forehead. Otherwise he lay quite still, content to feel the bright strands and the smooth skin sliding beneath his fingers. Cricking his neck back Horatio was just able to tilt his head sufficiently to kiss the top of Archie's head. Archie stirred, releasing his grip on Horatio's wrist and lifting his head slightly. His eyes were barely open but his lips were curled into a smile.
"Hmn? You awake H'ratio?"
Horatio replied with a kiss to his forehead. Archie yawned.
"S’it time to get up? Have to be back for forenoon watch."
Horatio placed another kiss in Archie’s hair.
“It's still early Archie, go back to sleep.”
“Hmn? Y’sure?”
Archie buried his head against Horatio's shoulder again and in a moment his breath had evened out as he slipped back into sleep. Horatio lay still and smiled up at the dusty roof beams. He had lost all feeling in his left leg, he had pins and needles in his arm, his fingers were no longer responding, his shoulder was prickling unbearably and the pressure on his bladder was growing more insistent. But he didn't care. He was content to be still, to do nothing, to just be, with Archie. There was no need to move, all he cared about was lying right there beside him.
Author: Anteros
Characters: Archie Kennedy / Horatio Hornblower
Rating: NC-17
Notes: Outrageously fluffy pointless porn. Guaranteed 100% plot free!
Horatio was pinned down. He couldn't move but he didn't care. The world could stop turning and he wouldn't care. All this life he had chaffed against idleness and immobility of both mind and body. Even as a child he had an ingrained inability to do nothing, he could not just be. Horatio always had to be doing something, anything to keep his restless spirit from turning in on itself. From dwelling on the impossible pain that filled the space once encircled by his mother’s arms, from the solitude and loneliness that he tried to convince himself he didn’t mind, from the suspicion that he just wasn’t like other boys who laughed and cursed and stole horses to ride wildly round the field and chased the girls who shrieked and giggled but always contrived to be caught and kissed. Horatio wasn’t like that, but he hadn't cared.
Lately though Horatio had learned to be still. He had learned many things recently. How to tie a sheet bend, how to ascend to the main top without his head spinning, how to run out a gun, how to heave the log. And he had learned other things.
The teacher of these other things was currently curled sleeping by his side and it was his presence that accounted for Horatio's absolute stillness. Horatio was lying flat on his back staring up at the grimy roof beams of a non-descript inn in the pale thin light of an overcast autumn morning. Archie had woken him just before dawn with light kisses and long slow caresses. Horatio had been hard and wet by the time he fully surfaced into consciousness and before he could even say good morning he was pleading with Archie not to stop, please god don’t stop. And Archie hadn’t stopped until he felt Horatio’s long back draw taught like a bow, fingers digging hard into his thighs, a long low cry on his lips as their salt heat spread upwards over their bellies.
Archie was now lying sleeping by his side. One leg thrown over Horatio's body, pressing heavily on his groin. Horatio was starting to loose the feeling in his left leg and his bladder was uncomfortably full but he didn't care. Archie’s left arm was lying across his chest, his hand gripping Horatio's right wrist. Considering Archie was asleep his grip was surprisingly tight. Horatio suspected that there would be tell tale bruises there later and cursed the growth spurt that had left all his shirts and jackets a good couple of inches short in the sleeves. Archie's other arm was trapped underneath Horatio's body. He was quite sure that when Archie woke up his right arm would be as useless as Horatio's left leg and a fine pair they would make then. He thought he should probably move but given that Archie's hand was cupping one cheek of his arse he had a strong imperative to remain where he was. Instead he shifted his hips slightly to settle more comfortably into Archie's palm. Archie had small hands and, had he lived the life of a gentleman of leisure, they might have been described as refined. As it was, Archie's hands were a testament to the service; they were rough and calloused, marked all over with scars and here and there the tell tale blue-black smudges of ingrained gunpowder. Rough though they were Archie's hands were quick and clever and they knew every inch of Horatio's skin from stem to stern. Horatio's stomach fluttered and his prick twitched below Archie’s thigh as he remembered those fingers exploring and caressing, persuading and pressing until push gave way to slide and Horatio’s very core dissolved into a molten wave of heat and want. Horatio wriggled his hips again and Archie, momentarily disturbed, let out a long breath.
Archie's head was tucked into the crook of Horatio's neck, his chin pressing down sharply into his shoulder. Horatio could feel the sharp rasp of stubble prickling his skin uncomfortably. He didn't care. He didn't care because he could also feel Archie’s slow regular breath warm against his face and a faint flutter of lashes on his cheek bone. If he angled his head slightly he could just see the top of Archie’s brow and cheek and a mess of unruly hair, dark in the shadow of Horatio's arm, bright tawny gold where the wan light caught it. Horatio's left arm was almost as numb as useless as his leg but he didn't care. He had just enough feeling left in his fingers to smooth Archie’s hair back from his forehead. Otherwise he lay quite still, content to feel the bright strands and the smooth skin sliding beneath his fingers. Cricking his neck back Horatio was just able to tilt his head sufficiently to kiss the top of Archie's head. Archie stirred, releasing his grip on Horatio's wrist and lifting his head slightly. His eyes were barely open but his lips were curled into a smile.
"Hmn? You awake H'ratio?"
Horatio replied with a kiss to his forehead. Archie yawned.
"S’it time to get up? Have to be back for forenoon watch."
Horatio placed another kiss in Archie’s hair.
“It's still early Archie, go back to sleep.”
“Hmn? Y’sure?”
Archie buried his head against Horatio's shoulder again and in a moment his breath had evened out as he slipped back into sleep. Horatio lay still and smiled up at the dusty roof beams. He had lost all feeling in his left leg, he had pins and needles in his arm, his fingers were no longer responding, his shoulder was prickling unbearably and the pressure on his bladder was growing more insistent. But he didn't care. He was content to be still, to do nothing, to just be, with Archie. There was no need to move, all he cared about was lying right there beside him.
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no subject
Date: 2010-10-31 02:02 am (UTC)A perfect moment.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-31 08:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-31 04:44 am (UTC)So wonderfully moody. I also was drawn to Archie's hands. I also really loved this bit:
He didn't care because he could also feel Archie’s slow regular breath warm against his face and a faint flutter of lashes on his cheek bone.
The analytic part of my brain keeps poking at the where/when/why/how of this moment coming into being, but the emotional part just goes melty and wants to hop in bed and cuddle with them.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-31 08:51 am (UTC)The analytic part of my brain keeps poking at the where/when/why/how of this moment coming into being
I've written a few pieces like this that are deliberately devoid of plot and vague about setting so that folk can imagine them when and where they choose. I know exactly how this moment came into being ;) but you can decide for yourelf :)
I also get a real kick of out writing contented sleeping Archie but that's probably obvious by now ;)
no subject
Date: 2010-10-31 07:34 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-31 08:59 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-31 07:53 am (UTC)Hand porn - or rather hand-love as it truly is .mmmm
Archie's hands are little especially in comparison with those unforgettable long fingered ones of Horatio.Am in process of screen capping hands for a seasonal amusment I want to try and have been looking at them close up therefore lately. Which in itslf is revealing.
Archie had small hands and, had he lived the life of a gentleman of leisure, they might have been described as refined. As it was, Archie's hands were a testament to the service; they were rough and calloused, marked all over with scars and here and there the tell tale blue-black smudges of ingrained gunpowder
all that - and licensed to roam.Captains really should beware the effects of literature on the young and impressionable!
no subject
Date: 2010-10-31 09:07 am (UTC)Awww I never thought about it like that! That's lovely.
Archie's hands are little especially in comparison with those unforgettable long fingered ones of Horatio.
There is quite a marked contrast isn't there?
Am in process of screen capping hands for a seasonal amusment I want to try and have been looking at them close up therefore lately
Oooh! I shall look forward to it :D
Captains really should beware the effects of literature on the young and impressionable!
And the not so young and impressionable too ;)
no subject
Date: 2010-10-31 03:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-31 07:24 pm (UTC)