Title Under the Trees
Word Count 646
Disclaimer Not mine
Under the Trees
He leaned back in Archie's arms. Here
in the shelter of the trees, they could kiss and toy unseen. Horatio
sighed. He let his head fall back onto Archie''s shoulder, let the
warm mouth find the great pulse in his neck.
Archie's chest was pressed to his back.
They had been standing, he knew that much. Horatio could not quite
remember when they had both subsided to kneeling in the leaf mast.
The ground was spongy and damp under his spread knees. Here, not
fifty yards from the house, they were surrounded by vines and trees.
Father had really let the pruning go, these recent years.
He had meant to show Archie the
Thinking Rock, where he had spent some many childhood hours. He had
started to tell Archie about the big snake that had been his
companion there sometimes. To his surprise, Archie had said, (in a
rather rigid tone,) that he 'did not appreciate snakes.' He had added
that there were no snakes in London, and that there were very few in
Scotland. This made no sense to Horatio. He had always pictured
Scotland as a lovely snaky sort of place. And anyway, it was cool and
rainy, she would not come out today. But it was all right. Archie
had come up with another idea. And now he really could not think. He
only knew that his shirt was pulled loose and lifted, and that
Archie's hand was the best thing ever.
Horatio pushed back against the heat.
“Please,” he said.
“You want to do it here? Nobody will
see.” Archie's voice was growling. His breath was short.
The weakness was rising in Horatio's
belly. All that was upright in him was reduced to a glowing
delicious pulse just—there. And, it was all right to put his
strength aside, to cede control. They were safe in the green and
dappled world, small rain trembled in the treetops, they were
Archie turned him gently. Horatio knew,
in some deep unexamined place, that Archie needed to see his face, to
know, each time anew, that all was wanted and well. And Archie did
not like to be embraced from behind, himself, ever.
“Your face.” Archie murmured. His
hand stroked along Horatio's brow, his cheek, and over his lip.,
Archie's fingers were, light as a rainy leaf. Horatio reached out his
tongue to taste the ends of the fingers, and heard Archie sigh.
They went down to the leaves, a jointed
machine, of lips and hands, and gasps. They were a perfect one-thing
with Horatio's extravagant legs, and Archie's bright hair.
“No snakes.” Horatio gasped.
And they were bare against each other
now,and Archie's hand there on them both. They were alone in the
green damp world, slick themselves, and pure as the sky. Horatio
heard his own voice crying, the sound lost forever in Archie's hair.
And then Archie tightened all along him, and the heat bloomed as
And he was so slick and pushing under
the slide of Archie's perfect hand. Archie had him safe, he would
have it all, and the beautiful thing was his for reaching, and he
reached, yes, and the goodness swept him up.
They panted together, as their hearts
slowed, and the rain pattered in the trees above with more intention.
Archie rolled free. Side my side they could face the jigsaw sky.
Horatio turned his head to the side though, to look at Archie. He
traced his own wondering hand along the underside of Archie's white
arm, soft up to the furred hollow there. Archie shivered, and gave a
muffled giggle. He caught the hand kissed it and brought it to earth
So then, hand in hand, they watched