“Horatio . . .” Archie complained breathlessly through another bout of silvery, high- pitched laughter, straightening after losing his footing. “The floorboards won’t lie still.”

This was the second time Archie had voiced that particular complaint. Horatio suspected his friend would do so once more before reaching their room; in fact, he hoped so, that way Archie’s complaints would amount to precisely half the number of ales he had imbibed and Horatio liked it when things divided into even halves. Perhaps if Archie made other complaints at consistent ratios then a new theorem could be invented. The Hornblower theorem . . . . Horatio smiled, liking the idea almost as much as the thought of making Captain.

He stopped thinking about mathematics, however, when Archie stumbled again not a yet fathom from the top of the stairs. It was a wonder he had made it that far, staggering all the way from the common room and wheezing with laughter each time he tripped. He would not laugh if he ended up facedown on the floor – and Horatio feared Archie would if he was not careful – but somehow Archie always managed to catch himself at the last moment, push himself up, and teeter on.

Their room was halfway down the hall and would be a bit of a journey. Archie gauged the distance with squared shoulders and a stubbornly set jaw, but then spoiled the dignity of his displeasure by frowning sullenly at the floor where he had nearly fallen a moment ago.

“That board tripped me,” Archie said, pointing. “On purpose, Horatio.”

Horatio stopped, sternly regarding the offending board, clasping his hands behind his back the way Captain Pellew did when chastening his men. This gross disrespect could not be tolerated. “You must be firm with them, Archie,” Horatio advised. “In battle such disorderly behavior could be disastrous. I would report this misconduct to Captain Pellew at once.”

Archie turned to him slowly. Horatio expected him to inquire what punishment might be prescribed – Archie did not study the Articles as diligently as he – but his friend only widened his glazed blue eyes and then erupted so violently into laughter that he nearly fell again.

“Horatio, you’re drunk!” he declared to the hall at large.

Heat crept into Horatio’s cheeks and he found himself bristling at the indignity of Archie’s accusation. An officer must never suffer indignity and a gentleman must not accuse. Besides, he was not the one tripping over his own feet. He had only drank as many ales as Archie because drinking on leave was apparently the customary thing for a midshipman to do and he did not want any of the men thinking less of him when he returned to the Indie tomorrow.

Not wanting to hear anymore about it, Horatio put an arm around Archie’s shoulders, steering him in the direction of their room. “That’s enough dawdling,” he chided, hoping he sounded at least half as authoritative as Captain Pellew.

His heart sank on that score when Archie continued giggling under his breath, but at least his friend was cooperating, moving forward on unsteady feet. Horatio had to wrap his arm tight and keep Archie close so he would not fall again, but he did not mind, he liked Archie’s warm, sturdy body against his own and the feel of Archie’s strong arm slung around his waist for balance. His friend was hot now from drinking and the awareness of that heat made Horatio strangely giddy; he led them faster toward their door, eager to be behind it.

Archie took his arm away after Horatio slid the bolt home, stepping around to face him, tilting up his flushed face and his bright blue eyes. Horatio’s gaze dropped to Archie’s perfect rosy mouth, his prick stirring at the sight, and then Archie had both hands in his hair, tugging his head down and crushing their lips together.

He kissed like he was starving, and Horatio briefly wondered why Archie had wasted an hour getting drunk downstairs if he was so hungry and impatient to be alone. But perhaps Archie thought it better to be drunk first – Archie had got drunk the last time they were ashore and had brought a flask of brandy back to their room earlier. Something ailed Archie, something Archie would never reveal or admit to, and so Horatio did not fault him for needing added courage to be intimate. But privately Horatio worried that the liquor was not good for Archie’s falling sickness.

Perhaps he was not so brave himself if he let his thoughts distract from the fact that Archie was kissing him. It was frightening, the thought of a man *kissing* him – the thought of kissing anyone was frightening – but when Horatio gave over to the erotic sensation of being kissed he wondered how he could have been distracted at all. Archie’s mouth was hot and moist like ripe fruit, small but hard against his, demanding.

Not knowing what else to do, Horatio yielded to it, pressing his palms against the door – his path of retreat if necessary. His head bumped softly against the wood when Archie thrust his wet tongue inside like a hungry serpent, each little stroke sending a stab of pleasure into Horatio’s gut. Horatio groaned, everything spinning, and after a moment he did not want to retreat anymore. He took one hand away and cradled the back of Archie’s head, and then wrapped his other arm around Archie’s body, pulling him close and feeling something invisible sizzle between them, something dangerous that Horatio had never imagined possible until meeting Archie Kennedy.

They had kissed before. On their last leave Archie had got blind drunk and had initiated a game of wrestling back in their room. They had tussled and struggled and panted until Archie had pinned Horatio down and kissed him hard on the mouth. At first Horatio thought Archie had only been trying to shock him, resorting to underhanded tactics only to win the game, but then Horatio had felt his friend’s tongue in his mouth and his heart beating fast. Archie had lain too long upon his body; their responses had become obvious to one another and the rest of the night had passed in awkwardness. Horatio had heard Archie hastily ridding himself of an erection beneath the covers and know that Archie had heard his own ashamed sobbing as he had done likewise.

The awkwardness had been short-lived, however. Archie had lured him to the Indie’s orlop a few days later, and they had kissed as though it were the most natural thing in the world. And then Horatio had lured him there only a day after, gathering Archie against his body and savoring his little pink mouth until Archie seemed to weaken in his arms. Archie liked the kissing. Sometimes Horatio would glimpse him in his hammock, grinning to himself, thinking about it, and sometimes in the night Horatio would hear Archie’s breathing quicken and he would blush, knowing what his friend was doing beneath the blankets. But Horatio did not blush so much anymore; sometimes Archie would reach down and do it while they kissed.

When Archie pulled away for air, Horatio felt strangely clear-headed, too aware of the stirring between his legs and how he wanted Archie back against him. Then he opened his eyes and everything felt muddled again. Archie was looking at him, his mouth a deep pink and his eyes hot, expectant. His gold hair was tousled and he was panting. Finally he took a step back and announced, “I want to lie down.”

Horatio nodded, assuming the ale had made him dizzy, but evidently that was not what Archie had meant. He waited a moment, decided something, and then toed out of his shoes and shrugged his jacket off. Horatio remained there stupidly with his back to the door, understanding that there was a move to be made yet failing to see what it was. He watched as Archie divested one garment after another, stockings and all, his throat drying at the sight of Archie naked.

He had seen Archie naked before, but it felt criminal and uncomfortably perverse to be naked alone together now and not simply about the business of washing or dressing with the other men. Horatio could not help but admire the solid lines of his friend’s body, his wide rounded shoulders, his pert backside, and his strong thighs, wondering what it would be like to lie between them. This time, Horatio did blush, thinking it wrong to have such lecherous thoughts. A sick wave rolled inside his stomach that had nothing to do with the liquor.

With a quiet huff, Archie laid himself on the bed, still unsteady from drink by the way his hands clutched the sheets for balance. Their eyes met across the small room and for a moment Horatio was overtaken with something tremendous, something he could not fight off. His gaze slipped and he saw that his friend was half hard between his legs, his cock flushed against his stomach in a bed of golden curls. Horatio cleared his throat and Archie huffed again, impatient.

“Well, come on.” Archie’s lashes fluttered, a gesture Horatio had learned to take for nervousness. Horatio also understood that Archie wanted him to undress and join him in bed. He moved to obey without thinking too hard on what might happen there. Perhaps he had drunk too much after all, for he thought that he should panic at the possibilities.

Unfastening buttons and laces, Horatio revealed inch after inch of his body to the chill night air, Archie’s hot gaze burning his skin all the while. Strangely, that did not unnerve him. Far from it, the desire and admiration in Archie’s eyes sent him soaring with secret elation, like the day Captain Pellew had handed him Simpson’s division, only better.

Nearly tripping out of his stocking, Horatio settled onto the mattress beside his friend. The bed was narrow, but Archie stretched out comfortably, turning to him and grinning. Stark heat scorched Horatio’s cheeks. They had never been naked in such close proximity; he tensed when their thighs rubbed together – Archie’s muscular and covered with soft downy hair, and his thin and pale.

Now that he was lying down, Horatio did not feel so steady as before. The room whirled and his head felt painfully light. Damn the ale; his skin itched with heat where gooseflesh should have covered it. Archie kept grinning, at what Horatio did not know. He only knew that he was going mad, raking his gaze over Archie’s nakedness – his blue eyes, his dusky nipples, and his blushing half swollen cock – gorging himself in secret lecherous gluttony. He was perverse and Archie was lewd for displaying himself like that. Horatio bit his lip, trying to avert his eyes.

“Well it’s no proper bedchamber, but it’s a bit more comfortable than the orlop,” Archie was saying in regards to the bed. He then curled closer against Horatio’s shoulder, laying a hand on his chest. Something intense shone out from his eyes that made him seem to glow turquoise, red-gold, and fine alabaster. “I’ve been waiting,” he whispered.

Waiting for what? Horatio wanted to ask, but knew that would sound stupid. Besides, Archie gave him no chance; he cupped Horatio’s cheek and then they were kissing again. This time Archie made little sounds against his mouth, hungry, muffled moans that shot sharp pangs between Horatio’s legs. Instinctively, Horatio slid his arms around Archie’s shoulders, drawing their bodies together.

Archie slid flush on top of him without breaking contact with Horatio’s mouth. They both groaned then, their smooth hot skin sliding together, pounding chests and soft bellies, hot thighs and even hotter pricks. Archie still smelled of the soap from their earlier bath, the liquor, and something else heady and intoxicating. Horatio bent his knees to bring Archie even closer, heart racing that they might finally do more than kiss. Already, he liked the silky feel of Archie’s balls against his and the sturdy weight of Archie’s body pressing him into the mattress.

They were both panting raggedly when they broke off kissing to breathe, the air thick and hot as smoke between them. Archie lifted his head just enough to look down into Horatio’s eyes, his hot blue gaze burning Horatio’s skin where he thought he could melt against Archie already. Archie’s pink tongue swept over his lips and he hoarsely whispered, “I want you.”

Horatio wanted to shake his head and say that they could not, but he was evidently drunker than he thought; he seized a fistful of red-gold hair, crushing their mouths together again. Archie shuddered in his arms and with another choked sound almost like a sob began rubbing frantically against Horatio’s body.

He froze – they had never done anything like this before – and then clutched Archie’s shoulders tighter as the friction spread tingles through his skin. He raised his knees, wrapping his long legs around Archie’s wider body, twitching when the wet head of his friend’s cock pushed against his arse. For a moment, Horatio wanted to throw his head back, spread his legs, and cry out “please,” but caution got the better of him and he pushed at Archie’s shoulders, bristling with shame.

“We can’t do this,” he said. The Articles strictly forbade penetration and ejaculation between men; they could be found out and shamed before Captain Pellew, who would be forced to hang them.

For a moment Archie did not answer, rolling onto his back and catching his breath in rapid, shallow gasps. He was biting his lip and his features were set, fighting back the pain between his legs where he had been denied release. Horatio wanted to touch him, kiss him again, but did not think that would help.

“Who would know?” Archie shook his head when he could speak again, fraught and impatient. “We’re alone.”

“Yes, but –“

“But you want to?” Archie interrupted, his eyes upon Horatio again, too knowing for lies so Horatio nodded. The desire for consummation may be dishonorable, but telling the truth was not, and that truth evidently pleased his friend; Archie’s lips quirked into a faint smile and a little glint of mischief entered his eyes. “I brought this, in case you wanted to.”

Reaching under the pillow, he produced a small jar of salve. Horatio’s color rose, knowing the purpose the ointment would serve, and for a moment dared to imagine Archie inside him. But then he remembered the consequences and went cold.

“We can’t. If we were held under suspicion we could be examined by the ship’s doctor.” Horatio’s stomach turned at the thought of Hepplewhite peering and probing, and worse all the men knowing. “I couldn’t bear it, Archie.”

His friend was biting his lip again, his lids fluttering. Looking down at his own hand worrying the edge of the sheet, Archie softly said, “I would let you, if you wanted.”

Horatio stilled. Did he want that? He did not know. He did not wish to hurt or debase Archie for his own perverse desires. The point was moot in any case. “We can’t,” he insisted yet again, turning his head away.

He heard Archie sigh, and then mutter, “It would only hurt anyway.”

The remark stung, though Horatio did not know why. He was clumsy and inexperienced and likely the worst lover in the world. Still, he had hoped that Archie would at least imagine the act to be good with him.

“Archie . . .” Horatio could think of nothing else to say, unsure of whether he was apologizing or admonishing. He laid his head on his friend’s warm chest – they could do that at least – sighing when Archie draped an arm around him.

“You’ll have to do something about that,” Archie said after a moment, nudging his knee toward Horatio’s lap.

Horatio nodded, his cheeks stinging. The ache between his legs had begun to hurt. He rolled away from Archie and started to pull the blankets up over him, thinking to take care of the throbbing after Archie put the candle out. It was late; Archie should fall asleep soon enough.

But Archie evidently had no intention of sleeping just yet; he slid an arm around Horatio’s waist, pressing close against his back. “I want to watch,” Archie murmured, his mouth under Horatio’s ear. “I’ve never seen you come off.”

Something quickened inside Horatio’s body, both mortified and excited by the lewd request. But he could only blush and shake his head, nearly paralyzed by the heat of Archie against him and the warm breath tickling the back of his neck. “Archie . . .” He had seen his friend abuse himself before, but never naked, never to climax. This was indecent.

“You’re so tense.” Archie squeezed his shoulder with his free hand, rubbing his cheek in Horatio’s hair. “Here.” He pulled away and picked up the brandy flask, a rueful smile on his face. “Half of this and nothing will matter, Horatio.”

For a moment, Horatio stared at the flask. Archie was beginning to sound like Clayton. That was strange; Archie hardly drank aboard ship, but tonight he seemed determined to be as far out of his wits as possible. Well, it was shore leave. Horatio supposed some degree of debauchery could be excused.

The stuff burned when Horatio drank it down, stronger than grog. His face tingled and his lips went numb. He sank back against the pillow after he’d had enough, the room spinning all over again. Archie wrapped both arms around him this time, nuzzling under Horatio’s ear.

“Close your eyes,” he said, rubbing a hand over Horatio’s chest, where his heart pounded. Then Archie’s arms tightened and he murmured, “Horatio, I want to bugger you. I can’t help myself.”

A little tremor overtook Horatio’s body. His cock leapt. “I want the same,” he breathed out, his voice thick with the pain of that longing. His mind was muddled, fixing on the idea of Archie’s hot prick up his arse. He could feel Archie hard against the small of his back, but . . . “What do you suppose it’d feel like?” He wondered aloud with very ungentlemanly curiosity.

Archie reached behind him again. A moment later he thrust one of the spare candles from the night table under Horatio’s nose. “It would be like this, only bigger,” Archie told him with a laugh Horatio recognized as mischievous. “Well, fatter anyway,” he conceded, given that the thing was rather long.

“Archie . . .” Horatio admonished for no real reason, almost sorry he had asked. They were both drunk, for Horatio paused to consider the potential circumference of the human anus and that of something at least the twice the size of the candle Archie held. But he stopped himself. This was absurd.

Chuckling, Archie set the thing down next to the salve jar. He buried his face in Horatio’s neck and then slid his mouth along Horatio’s shoulder in feather-light kisses that had Horatio closing his eyes and sighing, relaxing in Archie’s arms..

“I like your cock,” Archie said out of nowhere. “It isn’t ugly or small.”

Horatio grimaced, embarrassed. “It’s just a cock.” His hand idly wandered down, curling around his own hard flesh and assessing its shape and texture, wondering how a standard of beauty could be attached to such a thing. But then the pressure of his touch increased, his breath coming faster; it felt good to stroke himself pressed back against Archie’s hot chest.

“I want to touch it,” Archie went on, lazily suckling the delicate skin behind Horatio’s ear. Horatio shivered in delight, his hand moving a little faster. “I might even kiss it or lick it. Would you like that, Horatio?” His tongue flicked suggestively across Horatio’s earlobe, one hand drifting over his chest, finding a nipple and circling there with the pad of one finger.

Sharp pleasure twisted inside Horatio’s belly. He squeezed at himself; he had never been touched like that before. “You know where that would lead,” he choked out dryly, breathing roughly now.

Releasing his earlobe, Archie laughed and then leaned down to bite Horatio’s shoulder, his lips hot and wet, his teeth deliciously sharp, drawing a groan. “I’d play with it while I had mine inside you,” he whispered, his free hand scratching gently across the taut skin of Horatio’s belly, so close to his cock. “You’d be so hard, Horatio . . .”

The image seared him. Horatio could imagine himself on his hands and knees with Archie crouched behind him, thrusting into him in a carnal frenzy, *filling* him while his hand crept down. He grasped harder at his prick, but suddenly the pleasure there was not enough; he wanted to be filled and plundered, to surrender everything.

“Archie . . .” Horatio strained against his friend’s chest, dropping his head back. Archie thrust forward against his body, his prick jutting between Horatio’s thighs. He squeezed them together – the Greeks did it that way – sliding back and forth around Archie’s hard length, but that only made his balls tingle and Horatio wanted to be filled all the more. If he could not have Archie inside him then he had to have something.

He groped for the salve jar, pushing off the lid and digging his fingers into the stuff. Both the brandy and this talk of buggery had maddened him. Horatio found the candle next, spreading the salve over its length, and holding his breath, he brought the thing down between his legs.

He was too clumsy to hold it; his hand shook when the tip touched his entrance, aware of Archie’s eyes on him and ashamed under the haze of liquor. But then Archie’s hand moved down, gripping Horatio’s thigh and gently folding his leg up against his chest, opening him enough to let the candle inside.

“Here.” Archie took the thing from him, and before Horatio had the chance to move or speak he felt its cold hard length begin to penetrate his body.

It did not stay cold for long; the heat of his body warmed it, and then Archie began thrusting it inside him. Horatio’s hand returned to his cock, and together they fell into a rhythm, thrusting and stroking and rubbing in pleasure.

Then something happened inside him. Warm currents spread through Horatio’s blood, along his spine, different from the pleasure in his cock. He pulled his knee tighter against his chest and the sensation intensified into something sweet and delicious. “Oh God.” He squeezed and tugged at himself, rocking against the hard length inside him, slamming his eyes shut and throwing his head back against Archie’s shoulder, knowing he would not last long. “Fuck me, Archie. Fuck me,” he begged in abandon, all reason and awareness of dignity crumbled to pieces.

Archie swore behind him, rubbing his body faster against Horatio’s back until Horatio felt hot liquid splatter across his buttocks. But the hardness inside Horatio did not stop moving; Archie worked the thing with a steady hand until Horatio’s every muscle tensed, his body awash in delicious heat before he arched up and let go, shuddering and spilling his seed with a long, choked moan.

Horatio lay breathless and incoherent when it was over, panting while everything around him reeled, his skin itching with sweat. He did not care about that or the mess on his belly; he only wanted to cling to the warm, peaceful afterglow and the memory of pleasure, too drained to do anything else.

“I’ll wash this,” he heard Archie say, and then trembled in aftershock when Archie gently withdrew the candle from his body. Horatio said nothing as Archie rose from the bed and went over to the washbasin the innkeeper had provided for shaving, but he smiled when his friend came back and put his arms around him, keeping them both warm as they drifted off to sleep.

~

They did not sleep long. Horatio guessed a half hour at most. His head still felt light and empty from the brandy and when he rolled onto his back the room whirled before his eyes. He blinked and then turned to Archie beside him. His friend was still asleep, sprawled on his back with his head to one side, his hair a pool of gold around him.

The candle still lay upon his chest. Horatio smiled, still tingling inside from the melting pleasure and the explosive climax. It had felt so damned good that his body stirred all over again to remember it. He rolled to face Archie, wanting to lie against his warm chest and hear Archie’s soft voice in his ear. Leaning half on top of his body, Horatio cupped his cheek, stroking the soft warm skin until Archie’s lids fluttered.

“Wake up, sleepy,” Horatio whispered, his mouth against Archie’s mouth. Archie groaned in protest, shifting under him, but Horatio captured his mouth before Archie could tell him to go back to sleep.

Archie surrendered to him, sinking into the pillow and parting his soft lips with a quiet whimper; Horatio did not think he had ever seen Archie so relaxed, but found himself strangely aroused by his trusting passivity. He slipped his tongue into Archie’s mouth and they kissed more slowly than they had ever kissed, with no real urgency, only quiet warmth building between them. Archie broke the kiss to trail his mouth along Horatio’s jaw, and following suit Horatio sucked gently down one side of Archie’s neck, repeatedly reminding himself that he must confine his passions to kissing and could not sneak a hand down and play with Archie’s cock as he wanted to.

They stopped to catch their breath, and when Horatio dizzily opened his eyes again he found Archie peering up at him, holding the candle in one hand. “I want to try,” he said quietly, almost in a whisper.

“All right.” Horatio sat up, fumbling for the salve jar. Finding it, he coated the candle and then took hold of his friend’s thighs, easing them apart. Archie went tense under his hands, his eyes slamming shut. Horatio shook his head at himself for a fool, remembering how nervous he had been. He snatched the brandy flask from the table and put it to Archie’s lips. “Here.” The liquor would make Archie light-headed and giddy as it had made him. Archie would forget his nervousness and then Horatio could share the pleasure he had discovered, though it did not seem right that Archie should need to drink so much in order to relax.

Archie took one long gulp and then another, thirsty for it. But then he turned his head away from the flask, gripping a handful of Horatio’s hair and kissing him open-mouthed with the brandy still wet on his lips. Horatio lapped up every fiery drop, sucking the stuff from Archie’s lips and then swirling his tongue deep inside for more. Strong arms wound around his neck, pulling Horatio down to Archie’s side. Settling there, Horatio slid both arms around Archie’s warm body, growing giddy and drunk again too from the burning liquor he sucked from Archie’s tongue.

But he was steady enough to hold onto the candle. Gently, he dragged it down Archie’s body, tickling his belly with the tapered tip and then rubbing the underside of Archie’s cock. Squirming, Archie giggled against his mouth, but then fell still when Horatio pressed the candle against his snug little entrance. Archie raised his knees, closing his eyes and clinging tighter with both arms. Horatio swallowed, his palm beginning to sweat, but with a little push he slid the thing inside his friend.

It seemed to glide into Archie’s body, at least a little ways until Archie tensed again. But once Archie shifted and exhaled Horatio was able to push the thing inside a little more. He guided it just behind Archie’s balls, where he speculated the special spot must be, and hearing no cry of discomfort, began to gently slide the candle in and out.

The friction set Archie aflame. He threw his head back with a long moan, his thighs shaking, pure pleasure sweeping over his features. Horatio grew hard at the sight, regretting that both his hands were occupied, wanting to stroke himself in time with Archie’s suddenly rapid breathing. But he concentrated on his task, working the candle a little faster, his own cock throbbing painfully from the way Archie squirmed and clung tight to his neck.

“It’s almost like it’s you inside me,” Archie panted against Horatio’s mouth, his blue eyes feverishly bright, half delirious. “Tell me what it’d be like, if we could.”

Horatio colored, his stomach knotting. He had to look away from the insanity of Archie’s eyes. His friend was still scared under all that liquor and wanted to be talked to as Archie had talked to him. Horatio bit his lip, wishing he’d had more of the brandy – he would never get such indecencies out of his mouth otherwise – but he wanted Archie to relax and enjoy this.

Drawing him a little closer, Horatio swallowed once and then kissed Archie softly on the mouth. “I would . . . I would be very careful, Archie. It wouldn’t hurt at all – not even for a moment.” He kissed Archie again, both their mouths hot, rubbing gently inside Archie’s body with the candle to demonstrate. Archie trembled, rolling his head toward him and muffling a moan into Horatio’s neck. Encouraged, excited, Horatio slipped his other hand under Archie’s arm, creeping his way over to a nipple and brushing the silky bud with his thumb. Archie’s whole body shuddered then, sweat shining on his forehead. “I would cover you in kisses first,” Horatio went on, wetting his lips, “and . . . and please you . . .”

Archie’s eyes opened, his lashes tickling Horatio’s cheek. “With your mouth?” he rasped, his blue eyes hot and wicked.

Sharp sensation raced through Horatio’s body, shocked and excited by the idea. His cock was hurting now. He could not resist grinding a little against Archie’s hip. “If that’s what you wanted. I would do what you wanted.” It did not matter whether that act was degrading or not; this was a fantasy and shame had no place in fantasies. “We would . . . I would . . .” He would lay Archie on his back, slid between his legs and . . . “I would find that spot inside you and then . . .”

Horatio closed his eyes. He could almost feel it, the impossible heat of Archie’s body snug around his cock the way Archie felt snug around the candle now. He would thrust into that heat just as he was thrusting now and Archie would wrap his legs around him, shudder, and cry out, and there would be no Articles, no nooses or consequences, no liquor to work up their nerve. Horatio ground himself harder against Archie’s hip, moving the thing inside Archie with more urgency. He wanted to bugger him. God damn it, his cock was begging to fuck his best friend.

“Would you kiss me while we did it?” Archie asked so quietly that Horatio almost did not hear him. He hastened to nod, fighting down his own frustration and exhaling sharply into the hot air between them.

“Of course. Of course. For as long as you like. I would do what you want.”

Raw emotion welled up in him, though Horatio did not know why. He kissed Archie hard and shamelessly with the force of it. Archie’s response was equally shameless. He slid a hand down his own body, grasping his prick and stroking at himself while Horatio worked him in a steady rhythm. He thrashed around on the bed with his legs spread, moaning, “Horatio . . . Horatio . . .” as though it were he touching him, and then, “Do it now.”

Biting down hard on his lower lip, Horatio shook his head. God help him, he wanted to. They were alone. Who would know? But he could not, not now. “Next time. I promise, Archie. Next time, and nevermind the Articles. I want you.” Putting it off was better; he would be ready next time, somehow. They both would be.

Archie only groaned, barely in control of himself now. He jerked harder at himself and then began shuddering more violently than before, his features twisting, swept with color. Horatio stared, transfixed, realizing that Archie was climaxing. Archie’s cock shot a white mess onto his stomach and then he lay limp, heaving and gulping for air.

Horatio’s hand finally stopped moving, sore and sweaty. He pulled the candle from Archie’s body and tossed it aside, relieved to have a hand free at last. He gripped his own cock with his eyes closed, ridding himself of the painful pressure there. It took only a few strokes, his palm slick and his head spinning with the idea of taking Archie. He felt lighter once his seed spurted out of him, freed of those beguiling images and able to lay content on his back after catching his breath.

After a moment, he turned to Archie, who was lying back with his eyes closed, completely spent. He would sleep the whole night, no doubt, sated and exhausted. “All right?” Horatio asked, receiving a tired nod for answer. Then his eyes fell on the candle again and he frowned a little. “I’ll see to this,” he said. They could not afford to leave behind any trace of what they had done in this room together. They had only dodged the letter of the law after all, and had as good as buggered one another in their minds.

He rose and crossed the room, washing the thing in the shaving basin and drying it fastidiously. When he came back to bed he brought the washrag with him, wiping the sticky mess from Archie’s skin. The cool water sobered Archie a little; he reached over and lifted the brandy flask beside the bed.

“Do you want to finish this? There’s only a little left.”

Horatio shook his head, climbing under the covers. “We might need it for the morning, Archie,” he said, fearing they would not be able to look one another in the eye tomorrow after what they had done tonight. He then wondered how they would look one another in the eye next time, after doing what he had promised. Drawing an unsteady breath, Horatio shut his eyes, wanting to reach for the liquor already.