Title: In the Night Watches
Word Count 519
In the Night Watches
His eyes opened.
The chamber was cold, he could feel it chilling his nose and cheeks, but under his blanket the rest of Kit lay in comfort. The fire had burned down. It made no sound. The wood that they had laid on last was utterly consumed. Still there was a meager tumble of red and grey. It cast no light, and just a little heat.
It was not time to begin the day. He opened the shutter a little to see. The world beyond the glass was utterly black. Nick and Geoff were indistinct lumps across the room. Nothing unusual there. They were quiet sleepers, they dropped right off, and neither of them snored.. He was lucky in that, even if they did take the warm side of the room. He heard Nick mutter something into his pillow, and roll over. It had not been sound that woke Kit. And he had had his usual insubstantial dreams, senseless, gone now, as he turned attention to them. He was just-- awake. Kit was in no discomfort. He did not even have to piss. Out beyond the dark window he heard the clock-tower strike two. Three more good hours before he had to think of getting up. He could spend them in delicious idleness.
Kit wiggled down further into his warm nest, and let his thoughts go where they wanted. The man. Tomorrow would be the eighth day since his appearance. The fourth day since his absence began. The man had never spoken in Kit's hearing. But he could imagine the voice, a good voice, a blanket of a voice, warm. It would be warm. The man's eyes had met his own just once. That gaze had dried the spit on Kit's tongue, made his heart hammer. How much more then would the touch of his hand? It would, it would be-- oh.
The hand would be kind, kind. The voice would call him Kit. The hand might stroke his cheek, lift his chin. The man would smell of wool and horses and rain. His arms would be warm. He would not mind that Kit had never-- that Kit had no idea what to do. The man would know where to begin.
Everyone was asleep. No one would hear. Kit raised one knee slightly. His hand moved silently. He usually hurried this. This need of his body had always been senseless as thirst, he had done this, as needed, with little thought involved. It was different now. He knew now what to want. The knowing was new and it hurt. It hurt and it was lovely, and it would not be slow because he could not. In his heart the man said 'Kit I want you to--' and he pushed forward, and his mouth opened in a silent cry.
Back down, floating now, like an autumn leaf. Sweet and sleepy. There was time to sleep now. Somewhere the man was sleeping too. Kit was sure of it. He rolled to his side, drew his legs up. Warm. Morning was coming-- but there was still time to sleep.