eglantine_br (eglantine_br) wrote,

In the Warm Sea

Title: In the warm sea

Author Eglantine_br

Rating R---shameless smut!

Word Count 1319

Spoilers None

Disclaimer I did not invent them



In the Warm Sea





Horatio floated in a warm sea. It was a comfort beyond earliest memory. Beyond the memory of light and sense, was this comfort of heat and soft, sway and muffled sound. This was sleep of the greatest luxury. Archie's flesh and breath against his own was like the sun on the floor of a shallow sea, in a world, once his. His body, forgotten, moved closer to Archie, and it smiled.



He felt Archie wake. Some change of heartbeat or twitch of muscle, and it was over. Archie had broken the surface, and Horatio breached like a dolphin, following after.


“God, Where did the day go?” Horatio pushed his hair out of his eyes and mouth. They had slept for hours, evidently. The slant of the light was an accusation of sloth. He gathered some of his thoughts, not easily. Archie was lying beside him, stretched at ease. His eyes were bright, his mouth smiling, his cheeks flushed from sleep. He looked rested, he looked quite restored. He looked, in short, really...good.


“How do you feel?” Archie, after all had had a fit this morning.


“I feel all right.” Archie said, sitting up. The sheet slid down to pool around his thighs. Horatio's eyes followed it. Archie leaned back on his hands, and stretched his feet, hard. “I have a little head-ache,” he said, but nothing to trouble me.”




“Oh...just here.”


He indicated the spot between his eyebrows, just at the top of his straight short nose It was a part of Archie, as it transpired, of which Horatio was especially fond. Watching just that little spot, Horatio could see, when he wanted, what Archie was thinking. It gave him away, even when he stood, proper and at attention. It creased in concern, it folded in anger, it lifted in mirth. He could not seem to do much to stop it.


Horatio slid a hand under Archie's hair, where the little damp curls from sleep touched his collar. He drew Archie close, gently gently, and kissed the little brow spot.


“And of course,” Archie said, in a faint voice, “I did bite my tongue.”


“Oh? You did?”






They were both breathless, when they broke apart.


“Thing to show you.” Horatio gasped.


“Can it wait?”


Horatio wiggled away from the grasping hand.


“Its just that this afternoon I was given some salve, for your feet.”


“Oh. Salve?”


“Yes nice scented goose-grease. “


“And you are planning to apply it to my...feet?”


“Oh! Well.”


And Archie had surged across the little bed with a speed that would have made an admiral proud. He flipped Horatio, and pinned his longer arms and legs with ease. As always, at such times, Horatio was reminded that Archie had brothers.


“Feet later.” Archie stated firmly. He was very firm, in fact, and Horatio could only agree.


“Well, its not nard,” said Archie. He was looking at Horatio, and his eyes were very blue and very dark. “But I think we can use it.” He opened the little jar, and lifted it to his nose. One of his eyebrows quirked up. “It smells like food.”


“It has rosemary in it.” Horatio said. “I hope it won't be scratchy.”


The eyes holding Horatio's grew soft and grave. His voice was quiet now, and very sure.


“I don't care, Horatio. I don't care if we both smell like Christmas dinner. I don't care if it takes all my skin off. I can't wait any longer. “


Horatio could feel his mouth opening, his breath rasping. Archie was touching his face, his neck, compelling him with those dark blue eyes. Archie was under Horatio's shirt now, touching him, with tender attention, and his own mouth open too, for Horatio to kiss. Archie's eyes held his, even as they kissed, even as the shallow sea lapped warm around them, and took them to horizontal.


“ I want this so much. Oh God...”


Archie was running his fingers over Horatio's chest. And Horatio was stuck again with wonder that his little discs of darker skin could feel so much, so much more. His breath was racing now, his hips were lifting. He was jutting, turgid, all in between.


“Want this now, now.”


“We will, Horatio. But slow. “


“Please, Archie.”


Archie was rubbing lower. He was rubbing Horatio's prick now, but gently, too gently to bring the pleasure any closer. Horatio was leaking now, aching. He reached for Archie in turn, but Archie smiling, captured Horatio's hands. He drew them to his mouth, and he kissed them gently, lovingly, but did not release them.


Archie slid lower, rasping his body all along Horatio. He grinned up, from his position between Horatio's shaking thighs. Horatio lifted his hips, to let Archie slide the trousers. But no. He pressed Horatio's hips back down.


“Not yet.”


“Oh, oh...”


Archie lowered his mouth to the cloth, blew his warm breath, through the wool. The heat had Horatio panting. It was good, but it teased, it suggested, only, the heat of Archie's kiss, his suckle there. Archie rasped his cheek , like a big cat, bit gently. Horatio thrashed, almost beyond speech.


“Tell me what you want Horatio. Tell me what you want of me.”


He said this with his mouth there and the sound of his words, the feel of them was maddening.


“Want you inside me, Archie. Now. So much.”


“All right.” Archie said. And his breath was fast, and his eyes were deep and blue and perfect. He rolled to the side, and it was the work of no time to have them both naked.


He pressed the jar into Horatio's hand.


“You first, Honeybee. Touch me now, do me first.”


“Oh, yes.”


Archie was so beautiful under Horatio's hands, lifting and trembling himself now. He bit his lip, as his own hips rocked, and Horatio moved to kiss that lip, so Archie didn't hurt himself further.


Then Archie was touching him, sliding gentle knowing fingers back and up, and then in.




The sound was driven out of Horatio, not in startlement, or in pain, but by the size of the delight, turning and rising, more than he could bear.


Archie was lying back, pulling him down, and Horatio knew that this was what Archie had been dreaming of, all the nights apart. This is how Archie had dreamed it to be. Cheek to cheek now, so warm, hands twined.


“Ready now?”


Horatio nodded, and Archie rocked against him, rocked into him, slid, and rocked, and oh –


Horatio heard himself crying out now, crying loudly. He was shaking in Archie's arms, his head thrown back, his arched back slick with sweat.


The rocking went on and on, working together, heaving, like hands raising a sail. Better and better, unbearably better. Time was different, when they were joined like this, malleable, when each touch seemed to burn for always.


“So much, so much.”


Archie was crying out now too, and his eyes were wide and wild. He pressed his swollen mouth against Horatio's shoulder.


The shallow sea lifted them, cast them both ashore.


Horatio rested a long moment, dizzily. He must be crushing Archie, but the body under his was so warm, so good, and the hand stoking him over his back, so strong, so good.


“I love you, Horatio. That was so--”


“So good. I love you too.”


“Stay,” Horatio had not moved.


“Am I not crushing you?”


Horatio lifted his head to look down. Archie was so close that looking made no sense. Horatio saw two Archies, blurrily.


“No, stay on me, please?”


Horatio sighed. Maybe this was part of Archie's lonely dream. He would never know. Either way, it felt exquisite.


“You know we really do smell like someone's Christmas dinner?”


“Yes.” Horatio said, “I suppose we do.”




Tags: fiction, horatio archie

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