eglantine_br (eglantine_br) wrote,

Not This Day

Title: Not This Day

Author Eglantine_br

Word Count 1075

Rating R

Spoilers None

Disclaimer Not mine






Not This Day





They had been locked in for the night, as always, in the little infirmary bedroom. But night was over now, and it was morning. Archie was sitting naked, leaned back against the headboard. He was reading Cervantes. He had been pleased to find the book still on the bed-table, after his week locked in the cell down the stairs.



Horatio, was curled, naked facing Archie. Their knees were entwined. The rosemary foot salve had been undisturbed as well. That had pleased Horatio.


Today was the day that they were going to visit Hunter. Horatio was going out of a sense of duty, and Archie was going to be there with Horatio.


But not yet. Sunlight was only now just creeping across the walls of the little peaked room. It was still pallid above the horizon. The Spanish guard had not come to unlock them yet. The little bird was singing outside the window. Singing of joy, joy. The room smelled rather strongly now of rosemary foot-salve.


Horatio wiggled a little closer to Archie.


He gave a little humming noise that was so purely Horatio that Archie's throat tightened. Archie reached out a hand, to rest on the wild disorder that was Horatio's hair in the morning. Horatio's fingers were doing something slow and light, and shivery to the underside of Archie's knee. They were rubbing back and forth slowly, from one tendon to the other, light as a falling leaf over the soft dip in between.


It was very quiet, only the little songbird spoke. Archie had not turned the page in some time. Now the fingers were making little ventures. They moved some distance down the swell of Archie's calf, then they turned and resumed back and forth, then they wandered down his thigh, not far, and back up. Archie slid a look to his side, careful not to move his head. Horatio had one arm curled, supporting his own head, Archie could see the swell in the muscle of his pale arm, the dark fuzz in the tender place underneath. Horatio's face was distant and dreamy, and a little sad.


Archie put the book aside. He had found himself reading the same sentence four times anyway.


“I was gone a week.” Horatio said.




“It felt like three lifetimes.”


“Come here, Horatio.” Archie pulled him close. He let his hands touch gently on the bruised back, the sweet skin of Horatio's shoulders.


“It was bad in there.”


“I know.”


Horatio was lying against Archie's shoulder now, his long legs drawn up slightly, his knees still tucked under Archie's bent ones.


“I always used to like to be alone, Archie. When I was younger, I mean. I used to like to think on things, on my own. I never minded that there was no one.”


“Mmhmm.” Archie kept his voice level, his hands moving light and slow.


“But it was different in there.”




“My thoughts, were awful, Archie. They were all over. I tried to think about things that usually settle me, whist, mathematics, things like that, but I couldn't keep them going right. It was all bad, , Davey Williams, Eccleston. Things that I did wrong. I just wanted to get back to you. I was --- I was so alone, so afraid.”


“Oh, Honeybee. It was the same for me. I think that that is the point of it.”


“Missed you so much.”


Archie let his mouth find the brow, the long nose that Horatio was so sure was unattractive. He nuzzled his own nose against it. He kept his eyes closed. Horatio, in that dripping dark, thinking about whist. It was intolerable.


Horatio arched against him with a little asking whine. He was twining his hands to in that way that Archie knew meant he was wanting.


“God, you are so warm.” Archie was stroking his hand down Horatio's chest and the soft skin below his ribs. There was a dip there now. They were both thinner than last year.


“Feels good there Archie. Oh. Oh – that.”


Archie kept his stroke slow, languid. The night before had been fierce and fast. He had been drunk on the smell of Horatio's skin, on the taste of his mouth. But now, slow. They had time and silence. He wanted to use it well.


Horatio was squirming against him, trying to increase the pace.


“Please, Archie, inside me now.” His voice was high and rushed.


“I want you in my mouth, H'ratio.” Archie said.


“Oh, but--”


“So beautiful, your prick is so beautiful. I want it in my mouth.” Archie's voice was breathless too. He wanted it as a child wants cake. He felt gluttenous.


Archie steadied it in his hands. The skin was tight, and he could feel the rush of blood underneath. He drew his tongue up in lazy figure eights. He was imagining Corinthian columns. He made his mouth soft and took the top in, careful with his teeth, beyond his folded lip.


It did not take long. It never did. Horatio was beyond restraint. He was groaning and whining now with each breath. The sound of him was maddening. Archie could feel the tightening heat, where he himself pressed into the bed. He was dripping.


Soon, soon, but first this.


“Oh so good. Close, Archie now.” He heard Horatio's voice from far above his head, and then the rush of soft salt.


Horatio's skin was damp now, and his chest was heaving.


“That was – “


“So good.”


Horatio was a shining thing, in the morning sun, brown and white, and pink, and he was over Archie, and took Archie into him. And it was Archie's turn to arch and gasp. And Horatio's eyes were tender, and Archie was rising now, and Horatio kissed him as the fire came.


They were dozing, the sunlight had reached the foot of the bed. It was undeniably day now. Archie heard the rattle of the lock. They were free to leave the bed, the room.


They would get up, soon enough. They would face the day, they would visit Hunter. They would check on the men. They would do what had to be done. There would be days apart, but not this day. The future was coming, but not yet.


Tags: archie/horatio, fiction

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