“Archie . . .” Horatio’s forehead pinched with a frown as he opened the buttons of his drawers and slid the linen down over his feet, completing the small pile he had made of his clothes on the polished floor. Stark naked now, he surveyed his friend with a mixture of puzzlement and impatience, wondering for the tenth time why Archie had ordered him to undress only to sit there on the edge of the bed fully clothed.

Judging by the smirk curving his pink lips, Archie was enjoying the show, though why he would was a mystery. A torrid blush scorched Horatio’s cheeks at the thought of his gangling form revealed inch by inch to that cool, attentive gaze. Passion might cloud Archie’s mind into finding him attractive in bed, but now, with a clear head Archie was sure to find him wanting. Horatio cleared his throat, dropping his hands to his sides and waiting for Archie to tell him what to do next.

“Come here, Horatio,” Archie prompted with a note of frustration. “You’ve no call to be shy.”

He had every reason to be hesitant, Horatio wanted to say. The idea of a lover was still very new to him – especially one who could be so prickly at times, complicating Horatio’s efforts to work out the rules of this intimate relationship they had begun only months ago, in Spain.

But Horatio obeyed, dropping to his knees before Archie on the floor, hoping the tall bed would hide at least some of him. He was relieved when Archie wrapped an arm around his shoulders, drawing him close against his side. Horatio laid his head on Archie’s shoulder, savoring the warmth for a moment.

“It is your birthday,” Archie murmured, kissing the top of his head. A soft hand began traveling down Horatio’s back, caressing gently, soothingly, smoothing all the way down to his rear. His back arched despite himself as Archie began to tease the rounded flesh, kneading gently, stroking with his palm in careful, hot circles. Horatio felt a familiar stirring between his legs; the blush to his cheeks deepened, and he wondered if it was perverse on his part to be aroused by such immodest fondling.

Archie’s eyes were on him, a deep entrancing blue, warm and lit with affection and amusement. Then they fell closed. A light kiss whispered over Horatio’s lips as gentle, graceful fingers traced the line of his jaw and the rising pulse on one side of his neck.

“It’s your birthday, “Archie repeated, fingers slipping in the valley of his arse, the pad of one thumb pushing tentatively against his entrance. Horatio jumped, his groin tingling at the teasing touch. He buried his face deeper into Archie’s shoulder, aware of Archie watching him, observing how he liked to be touched there. Should he be ashamed? Horatio bit his lip, the room suddenly far too warm. “I want to give you something,” Archie went on, scratching gently under his chin with the other hand, as though Horatio were a big cat.

Horatio lifted his head, grateful for a distraction. “Archie, you’ve already bought me dinner and a gift. I hardly need more.” It was true; they had spent a fine evening in Plymouth, and if they spent the rest of the night loving each other quietly, Horatio would account it his most pleasant birthday yet.

But Archie did not seem to think he had done enough. “I want to give you something private,” he insisted, a note of mischief in his voice. “Something you’ll like.” He gave Horatio’s rump a gentle pat.

There was no arguing with him, both because Horatio had no real objections – everything Archie did for him felt wonderful – and because Archie was already taking him by the shoulders, laying Horatio’s upper body across his thighs. Horatio tensed at the new position, bent over Archie’s lap with his backside vulnerable where he still knelt on the floor. He laid his cheek against the edge of the bed and gripped Archie’s leg for support, only to have Archie smooth his hair back with a gentle hand while the other moved in wide, seductive circles over his back.

“You are beautiful,” Archie remarked, rubbing between his shoulder blades, along his ribs, over the small of his back, everywhere, until Horatio began to relax even in his absurd pose. “How old are we today, Mr. Hornblower?” he sing-songed, as though addressing a child.

Horatio’s brow furrowed at the question. “Twenty-one, Archie. I’ve told you before.”

“Yes, yes.” Horatio received a light pat on the head for the reminder. “Twenty-one, a goodly age.” Then, without warning, a firm slap landed smartly against Horatio’s backside. “One!” Archie declared robustly, his voice brimming with delight.

A sweltering, feverish heat flooded Horatio’s face, his body tightening with disbelief and indignation. “What - ?” he barked, but Archie’s palm smacked once more against his arse before he could completely form the question.

“Two!” Archie counted off, and then, “three!” the number dissolving into giggles.

Four. Five. Horatio clutched Archie’s knee to brace himself against those eager, playful blows. A deep constant burning rose in his skin as Archie continued to soundly spank him. His whole body seemed to flay from the mortification of it, the sheer shock to his senses of what Archie was doing to him. Horatio squeezed his eyes shut, trying to tell himself that it was only a birthday jest, that Archie had a birthday too and Horatio could always get even. His stomach clenched at the thought of striking Archie even so playfully, at putting him through any more humiliation whatsoever. But was it humiliation he suffered now, or . . .?

The fifteenth blow landed, stinging the tender, lightly abused flesh of his buttocks, and when the sharpness subsided, it was only to give way to a greater discomfort, the painful throbbing between his legs where his cock stood erect and swollen. Horatio shifted his hips once and then again, until he found that he was grinding against Archie’s thigh, so achingly aroused that he half wanted to weep. Surely Archie must be appalled at his reaction.

But Archie was laughing as he counted, finishing in a resounding “twenty- one!”. The number drew a sigh of relief from Horatio. The game was finally over. He started to sit up, dizzy with the heat flooding him from head to foot and the sheer embarrassment. But before he could rise, a final slap, harder than all the others, cracked against his tingling arse. “Twenty-two!” Archie declared, expelling a heavy breath as if exhausted by his efforts.

Horatio jerked against the blow, swallowing hard in a dry throat to find his voice. “I’m only twenty-one, Archie,” he reminded with no small amount of indignation, though he could not, with his flaring cheeks and his pulsing erection, quite find the courage to turn around and glare at his friend.

“I know,” Archie sighed, rubbing Horatio’s back and his assaulted rump where a thin layer of sweat had dampened the skin, “but it’s customary to give one to grow on.”

“Indeed,” Horatio grumbled, straightening into a kneeling position, flaming cheeks be damned. “In that case, I eagerly await the day you reach fifty, Mr. Kennedy.”

Archie smirked at that, a lively, bewitching sparkle in his bright blue eyes. “Happy Birthday, Mr. Hornblower,” he said, reaching out to pull Horatio into his arms, using his superior strength to yank him up onto the bed.