“All right,” Archie set his mug of ale down – his fourth this evening. “I’m finished.”

Horatio rolled his eyes, making a great show of unfolding his arms and straightening, determined that Archie should see that he had gone stiff from slumping in the chair. “I was beginning to wonder why we bothered paying for a room,” he scowled. “I feared you’d intended to remain here all night.”

Archie smiled at Horatio’s impatience, and then allowed his gaze to drift to the other side of the room where a dark haired serving girl was leaning over another table to set down a mug of ale. Horatio noticed his watching; his mouth firmed into a hard line. Turning back to him, Archie grinned. Horatio was drunk. That made him thrice as fun to nettle.

“Well I’m finished,” Archie repeated, pushing his chair back and standing up. He was more than a little light-headed, but didn’t want Horatio to see it.

Horatio did not take the time to study him. Instead, he turned, making his way through the Crescent’s noisy, firelit common room toward the stairs. He teetered as he moved. There was simply no hope for him walking in a straight line. Archie grinned at his back, amused at the way Horatio clamored up the creaking stairs twice as clumsily as usual.

He regained himself when he reached the top, turning to glare at Archie for following at such a leisurely pace. Archie did not hurry, but took his time trailing after Horatio as he scowled again and headed for their room.

Their eyes met as Archie finally closed the door and latched it. Horatio’s cheeks shone pink in the candlelight, his huge eyes bright as he stood there. Within a moment, his scowl slid away and he stepped forward, taking Archie by the shoulders and crushing him against the door.

Archie managed to grip Horatio’s slim waist just before that full, cushiony mouth smothered his. Weeks of forced near celibacy were for a moment relieved by the hot, familiar taste and welcome closeness. Archie could not help but cling, sliding his hands up to Horatio’s back, fingers curling into his wool coat and drawing him closer. Horatio’s heart beat fast against Archie’s chest, from the liquor and the sheer relief, and in that moment it simply seemed a waste of time to bother making their way to the bed.

The eager kiss forced Archie’s head back. Hot lips clamped down on his neck just as a hand slipped from Archie’s shoulder between their bodies. Archie’s lips parted, panting into the room’s warm air, his body pushing forward despite himself when Horatio’s long fingers found the buttons of his trousers. God, a little ale could do wonders. Who would ever imagine that shy Horatio Hornblower could be so forward and randy?

Archie could scarcely breathe by the time they pulled apart, his head filled with the scent of ale and the wool scent that was simply Horatio. They were both drunk, but the unabashed want in Horatio’s dark eyes sent the giddiest rush through Archie’s body. It was such a rare thing for Horatio to be so unashamed. He even stepped forward again for another kiss, but Archie caught him by the shoulders when he teetered in the process.

“You’re drunk. Lie down.”

Horatio nodded as though it were an order. He could be very good at taking orders. Crossing the few steps to the bed, he laid down, reaching up to loosen his stock and looking to Archie expectantly with his big, shining eyes.

Perhaps it was devious of him, but Archie did not rush to throw himself upon Horatio as he wanted to. Instead, he slowly unfastened the buttons on his jacket and slid the heavy wool from his shoulders, depositing the garment on the chair by the door. Horatio’s eyes went a little wider when Archie unknotted his stock to unwrap it from his neck and lay it atop his jacket, and when Archie started to tug his shirt over his head Horatio sat up

“You’re teasing me,” he declared with perfect seriousness, as though he had just worked out what teasing was. Knowing Horatio, he had.

Once he had his shirt off, Archie toed off his shoes and reached to unfasten his trousers. He said nothing, only savored the hot weight of Horatio’s eyes on his skin as he pushed the cloth down. Strange, to be aroused by it; Archie had never though to want another man to look at him hungrily again.

“You’ve been teasing me all night,” Horatio went on with his revelation, “taking your time downstairs.”

Archie said nothing. He had not the chance to, in any case; Horatio swung his long legs over the bed and reached for him, seizing Archie by the waist and yanking him onto the mattress. He landed sprawled facedown across Horatio’s thighs, his surprised laughter muffled by the coverlet.

“Horatio . . .” Archie tried to turn and face him, but once again did not have the chance.

Horatio’s palm slapped down on his arse. “You were unkind,” he scolded, with a drunk man’s absurd seriousness.

The blow did not hurt, but it shocked Archie all the same. For a moment, he lay frozen under the sting, his muddled mind unable to believe that shy Horatio Hornblower had actually spanked him. Indignation flared in Archie briefly, before the laughter bubbled out. Laughter only seemed to make Horatio more solemn, his precious dignity offended.

“Your too smug by half,” he chided with almost paternal gravity, and then swatted at Archie’s bare, defenseless bottom a second time.

Archie could not help yelping this time, but even drunk he was quick to fight for the upper hand. He squirmed around, somehow managing to get ahold of Horatio’s arm, shoving the taller man onto his back. He dove on top of him, planting his elbows on either side of Horatio’s narrow body and seizing two fistfuls of curls, pinning Horatio down and diving for his red, ripe mouth.

Horatio tried to squirm, but Archie was too heavy for him. He could only move his hands, clutching at the bedclothes while Archie ground his head into the mattress. Somehow Horatio’s hand found its way to Archie’s arse again, striking the flesh in quick little swats while he tried to mutter against Archie’s mouth, no doubt with a mind to tell him how wicked and unscrupulous his tactics were.

Archie would not have listened even if Horatio were free to speak. He was too busy wriggling with each little slap to his backside and too busy devouring Horatio’s wonderful mouth. They were both hard, and there was only so much grinding poor, impatient Horatio could take before his head turned to one side as he shuddered suddenly and bit his lip against a cry.

Even as Horatio came off, Archie did not stay still. He pushed himself up, straddling Horatio’s waist and pressing down on his by now aching prick. This time, Horatio did cry out, a choked gasp as his eyes went wide and round and his brows shot up under his curls. Archie expected another swat for his efforts, but Horatio had the coverlet in his fists and seemed to lack the ability to move in the throes of his rather premature release.

He lay there panting after his body had spent and his prick had grown soft again. Archie did not climb off him, but waited for Horatio’s eyes to focus and for embarrassment to darken his already flaming cheeks. Horatio could be prickly in regards to his habit of firing too soon at times.

“Now look what’s happened,” Horatio muttered after he caught his breath, obviously dismayed.

Archie smiled patiently, thinking that perhaps he should apologize and that perhaps it was the time to reassure Horatio that this was not his fault, that he was not a poor lover for it. Archie was even willing to admit that he had not intended to tease, that he simply loved the way Horatio looked at him, loved the absence of fear or disgust at his desire, that he loved what they had because it was yet another thing he might have given up on if not for Horatio. But he said nothing, only took Horatio’s hand and laid it upon his thigh, near to the hard flesh that wanted Horatio’s touch.

He should have known from the cunning curve of Horatio’s lips that an idea had sprung to mind, but as it was Archie squeaked in surprise when Horatio grabbed him by the hips and tossed him flat on his back.

The room spun until he brought Horatio’s face into focus, taking in his pursed lips and his bright, predatory eyes. “I suppose I should even the score a bit,” he murmured in his low, soft voice, pinning Archie down by the shoulders. “Or maybe I should make certain that I’m free to do precisely what I want with you. I’ve been waiting all night.”

There was no chance to interject that it had not been “all night”, merely an hour or two. Horatio was already sliding the loosened stock from his neck, only to wrap it around Archie’s wrist. Archie’s eyes went wide when Horatio secured his hand to the headboard. What had come over him? It was impossible not to stare at him shock.

But when Horatio turned to fetch Archie’s stock for the other wrist, Archie wriggled his hand a bit, smiling to discover that Horatio had purposely tied the thing so that Archie could slip his free if he wanted. He did no such thing. Instead, Archie closed his eyes, eager for Horatio to commence tormenting him until he grew hard and impatient again and wanted him. He did not even quip that if this was the result of frayed patience then he might take his time in his cups more often.