eglantine_br (eglantine_br) wrote,


Title Under


Rating-- Just smut, really

Word Count 824


“I want to lie under you,” Archie had said.

And it was not a thing he needed to say at all. Horatio knew, had known, would always know.

It had been there in the clasp of hands earlier in the night, when they had sprawled on the empty hillside, and watched the stars. At sea stars were for navigation. Seen from ashore they were different, stars were for secret wishes, and for kissing softy in the breeze that smelled of crushed grass.

They had rested on the windy hilltop, and the moon had swung overhead, and he had brought Horatio's hand to his mouth, let his tongue find the little hammocks between the knuckles, the incised lines of the knuckles, the palm. It was dark enough, Archie reckoned it safe. There was nobody near. He would, of course, not have done it in the daylight. He and Horatio were so careful. Outside their quarters, on the Indy, they managed only to touch hands now and then. They touched with eyes, words, smiles. But carefully.

But there was no need to be careful now. Naked, alone, they could not stop smiling.

Archie had moved to douse the lamp, but Horatio had stayed him. “Want to see.” He had said, his voice already gruff and and shaking. So Archie had left it. Horatio reached out first. He stood in the fluttering lamp light, and drew Archie close. Archie let his head drop to Horatio's shoulder, let his eyes shut. Horatio's skin was smooth and hot. Against it, Archie felt himself pliable as candle-wax.

One hand cupped behind his neck, under his queue, working it loose, making him shiver. He let his head fall back, contained held in that hand, and Horatio's mouth was at his jawline now, where the great pulse beat.

Archie's legs were braced wide, and his whole body was curving now, because Horatio's other hand had found Archie's other hair, and it was stroking, not where he needed most, not his aching frantic cock, but just beside, around it.

“Curls.” Horatio said, and gave a gurgling chuckle. Why that struck him as amusing Archie could not think. After all, Horatio was all curls.

“There is a bed, ” Archie said. “Why don't we get onto it.”

They stumbled to it, a four legged creature, Archie stepping backward. It struck his knees and he went down meaning to draw Horatio over himself. The press of bare skin was so good, he wanted only-- but Horatio stepped back a little and knelt. He was between Archie's bent legs now, stroking so slow up from Archie's ankles.

Archie, propped on his elbows looked past his own body to Horatio's ardent face.

“Just a little,” Horatio whispered. “Just first.”


Archie let his head fall back, his eyes on the unremarkable ceiling. He had been thinking all day of Horatio around him, himself inside, the hot snug movement that they made together, the rising of it, like daybreak, filling him as he filled Horatio.

“I don't want to--” Archie said.

“Don't worry, I won't let you.”

Horatio gave a closed mouth smile, he lowered his face to Archie's thigh.

And Horatio did not, and did not. And not took forever, and more, until Archie was well past sense and speech. Archie's eyes were closed, had he looked he would have seen little but the top of Horatio's curly head, and the hands which held his own. He was writhing now, lifting, trembling, but not alone. Horatio was with him in the soft dark behind in his closed eyes.

Until Horatio stopped, and Archie cried out, soft, against the loss of it. He opened his eyes and Horatio was over him, and slicking him, and they twined together, perfectly aligned.

“There now, there,” Archie said, stupidly.

And he was the one to watch. Horatio sank down over him, and took him in. And Horatio had taken his lip in his teeth, as they began to rock, and Archie drew him down, to kiss that lip so it should not be hurt at all.

He could feel the length of Horatio between them now, rubbed by them both as they moved, and it was perfect, , and he held Horatio close, and now was the shudder, and the heat between them.

And it rose in him, perfect, and he had to tell.

“Oh now, oh Honeybee.” His voice was coming from far away, and it broke.


“Now I know how it feels to be an egg yolk.” Archie's voice was dazed and sleepy.

“Yes. And we have all day tomorrow.”

“H'mm. Think. Think I'm 'sleep.”

And sleep was delicious and he sank towards it. He felt the brush of kiss on his nose, and vastly far away, Horatio put out the lamp.

Tags: archie/horatio, fiction

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