eglantine_br (eglantine_br) wrote,
eglantine_br
eglantine_br

On Going Home, Chapter 11

Title: On Going Home, Chapter 12

Author: Eglantine_br

Rating: R

Word Count: 1166

Disclaimer I did not invent them

 

 

 

On Going Home, Chapter 11

 

He had taken his own body for granted, when he was a child. It had long legs for running, and arms for catching, and throwing and climbing. It had a long silly nose, for breathing, and for other boys to laugh at. It had a prick, because he was a boy, and not a girl. This was good for pissing outdoors. The child body had dark serious eyes for looking, and long dark hair. The hair was for tangling and snarling, and getting stuck in his mouth. Sometimes old women said that they liked his hair. Then they stared at him too long and too hard, and his face got hot, and he wanted to hide. His child body had a good brain. His father said it was a very good brain. That was for thinking and puzzling and asking. Horatio thought of that part of himself as the real part.

 

 

When he got older he hated his body. It had long legs to make him look foolish and too tall to hide. It had long arms, with hands that wanted to fidget and flap. The nose was unspeakable. The body had dark eyes that offended decent people with their insatiable looking. The eyes also made tears, which he could not stop. His hair was too lush for a man, and it still pulled and tangled. And now the body had an ungovernable prick which heated and hardened at the wrong times, and about the wrong people. The body still had a very good brain, that was some comfort, but it seemed to make others dislike him.

 

But all that was before. Before Archie,and before the wonder that was the last week. Now he saw his body in a new way. It had long legs for twining with Archie's legs. It had long arms to embrace with. It had a nose for rubbing all over Archie's skin for the delight of smelling him. It had eyes, for Archie to kiss, and to see what made him smile. It had dark hair, to spill with Archie's bright hair, over the pillow, and to shield them when Horatio was on top. He had a very good brain, and it was much less lonely now. Archie's very good brain was comfort and company.

 

As for the prick-- it was there for astonished gratitude.

 

These thoughts passed in a flash, as Archie heaved up level with him again. Archie was smiling, wiping his mouth with his hand. My God – had he swallowed the stuff? Horatio supposed he ought to be appalled, but he felt strangely moved.

 

Archie's body was, of course, useful to Archie. It was also elegant, refined, glorious, full of unconscious grace and beauty. It was especially so now, glowing with sweat, his wide chest heaving, and below, a gift for Horatio's delight, jutting, incarnadine, rigid.

 

“My turn next.” Horatio said. He felt his mouth turn up in a narrow rather predatory smile. Archie answered with a smile of his own and an anticipatory wiggle.

 

Horatio drew Archie close, nibbling and wuffling at the junction of neck and shoulder. The skin there was sweet and soft. Underneath Horatio could feel the cords and muscles, and the buried strength of Archie's clavicle. He felt Archie quiver and sigh.

 

They were side by side now, face to face, chest to chest. Horatio let his own wide silly mouth open for the push of Archie's kiss. He let his hand grip Archie's hip. There were ridges there, tough under his palm, scars from Simpson's beatings. Horatio had kissed them the other night, washed them in his helpless tears. He would kiss them again, again and again. Forever, he hoped. But not just now – not now when Archie was gasping with him. Not now, when their hips were moving, and it felt so good.

 

Heat was between them, both of them were feeding it. Horatio was hard again, but he was sane enough to watch, as Archie gave himself up to pleasure. Archie flushed a deep pink. His eyes were wide and dark and frantic. The sight of them twisted up the pleasure up in Horatio, round and round, something pulling, something rising. But he fought it. Archie was close now. He was out ahead of Horatio, sucking his breath in, with delicious greed. Horatio held him close, rocking, with him, struggling to hold himself back.

 

There, there now. Archie arched strongly. “Oh, Horatio, oh yes.” His voice was soft and far. His shudder and sag was so good, and Horatio let himself follow.

 

The sun had moved. The madness had passed, and there was room and time for more tender knowing. Horatio's head was heavy in Archie's lap. Archie was stroking his eyebrows.

 

“We should go back to your house, Horatio.” Archie said. “Your father must be missing your company.”

 

“Yes,” Said Horatio. “In 10 minutes.”

 

“I think your father knows about us.” Archie's fingers moved slowly, stroking the black arches of Horatio's brow.

 

“I suppose that he might.” Horatio said.

 

Archie's fingers stopped. He looked down, worried. “Will, will he not mind – be angry?”

 

“No. He's not like that.”

 

Archie looked dubious. “What do you mean? “

 

“He knows me for who I really am.”

 

“There art thou happy.” Archie said. His voice had a bitter edge, that was new to Horatio.

 

“Also,” Horatio said, “He likes you. Not just for me. Why would he not, Archie?”

 

Archie flapped a hand. “I don't know...”

 

“It's going to be fine.” He leaned in to kiss Archie. “I love you, and that alone would make him like you, and be grateful to you. But you are so good Archie...Believe me. I've looked at you closely. I know you. You are good all the way through.”

 

Archie smiled. He seemed to be leaving the strange mood behind. “Looked at me closely, have you?”

 

“Oh...yes.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Well... I could always look again. Tonight maybe, If you would find it convenient, Archie.”

 

“Hmm,” said Archie, “ I believe I might.”

 

They stood to dress. Horatio felt more confident, with trousers on.

They started back, down the road, and around the corner, back to Horatio's house. The sun was almost to mid-sky now, Archie, walking slightly ahead, turned to say something to Horatio, something kind and funny, and loving, and the sun touched them both.

 

It shone on Horatio, as usual. But it lit Archie with sweet light, touching his wool covered shoulders, lighting blazes in his hair. Archie did not even notice. He could not see, of course from the inside. But Horatio could see, and it seemed as if the sun were grateful too, to touch Archie with such love. And it came to Horatio's mind, that he, like the sun, could love Archie. That is what his body was for.

 

Tags: archie/horatio, family, fiction
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