Pairing: Horatio/Archie
Rating: NC-17
Category: POV, PWP, and other letters ;-)
Summary: What *really* happened when they drank Portsmouth dry?
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, much less these fine characters (if you know where I could buy them, please let me know *g*). I refuse to make any money off them in any event, so please don't sue me.
Notes: Thanks to Cori and Ruth for pointing out my Welsh...er, I mean my typos, and for suffering through reading it first. *g*
Spoilers: The Duel, The Duchess and the Devil and Mutiny


Portsmouth
by Nicole D'Annais
Copyright 2001


"Are you sure you know *where* the room is, Archie?"

A great laugh rang out behind me, and I turned to look at Archie. "What's so funny about that question?"

"You're funny, Horatio. Yes, I know where our room is. And we're not going there just yet. Not that you would know the difference if I took us to the wrong place."

I sniffed. "I'd know well enough tomorrow." I could not stay offended for long, however. The night was young, we were young, the sky was clear, and the weather was lovely, at least for Portsmouth. "Think of it, Archie! We'll have served under all the best captains before we're through. First Captain Pellew, and now Captain Sawyer. What an honour! We have to celebrate!"

Archie placed his hands on my shoulders, guiding me through a door. "In here, Horatio."

I followed blindly, allowing him to seat me at a table while I blinked around the room. "This doesn't look like our room, Archie."

"No, Horatio, it's another tavern."

"Oh! Are we drinking then?"

I couldn't figure out why Archie was laughing again. "You mean you haven't had enough already, Horatio?"

"Oh, no, I'd like another." There was that laugh yet again. I rather liked it, actually. It was instantly recognizable as Archie's. I would know it anywhere, anytime, any place.

"If you fall on your face, Horatio, I'm not certain I can carry you back to the room."

"Shan't fall on my face. Not clumsy anymore. Grew out it."

More laughter. "Whatever you say, especially since I can barely make sense of it."

I stared, mesmerized by the way Archie's teeth worried at his bottom lip. I tried it myself, but found I couldn't feel my teeth touching my lip, so I tried harder, frowning in concentration.

"Horatio, what the hell are you doing?"

"That thing you did."

Archie pulled out a handkerchief. "You've bit through your lip. Here." He leaned across the table, dabbing at my mouth with the cloth.

I felt nothing, but I saw the red on the handkerchief. "How did that happen?"

"You really are drunk, aren't you?"

"Not drunk. Need a drink."

"Very well, I'll make you a deal. I'll buy a couple of bottles and we'll take them back to the room. Then when you pass out, I don't have to worry about getting you back there."

"I want a drink."

Archie laughed again, much to my delight. "Stay there. I'll be right back."

I did as I was told and stayed just where I was until Archie returned. "Is that my drink?" I asked, pointing at one of the bottles in Archie's hands.

"Yes. But you can only have it if you come with me."

No problems there. "Are we going to our new ship?" I asked as I followed Archie out of the tavern.

I was rewarded with yet another laugh. "Not yet, Horatio. Back to the room, remember?"

"Right. Of course." I did remember, really. I was just so incredibly happy, and besides, every time I said something odd, Archie laughed. "Think of it, Archie! Captain Sawyer! Did you know he once fought off three French frigates with a single boat?"

"Yes, and even if I hadn't, that's the fourth time you've told me tonight."

"Oh. Sorry."

Another laugh. "It's all right, Horatio. I'm just as excited as you are. I'm just not as drunk as you are."

"I am *not* drunk."

"Right. Sorry. My mistake."

I grinned. Even his words were sounding like laughter now. "Besides, doesn't matter if I was. We don't go on duty for two more days."

"Now you remember." Archie stopped, nearly stumbling into the door of the inn as I ran into him.

"Sorry, Archie." I followed him into the inn. We'd been there three days, waiting for orders, so no one paid much attention as we climbed the stairs to our room.

I lurched past Archie on the stairs and pushed on the room door, but Archie grabbed my arm before I could get the door open. "Not there, Horatio. Our room's back here."

An easy enough mistake when all the doors look the same. I turned and went through the door he held open, falling onto the bed only a few feet away. "Drink?" I said with my best pleading look. At least I thought it was my best pleading look; Archie merely laughed again and handed me the bottle and a glass.

"Do you think you can pour it?" he asked as he took off his coat and neck cloth.

"Of course!" I held the glass up carefully and tipped the bottle a little bit at a time until the wine poured into the glass. At least that was my intent; in reality, the wine flowed half into the glass and half onto the bed.

"Careful, Horatio!" Archie snatched both glass and bottle away from me. "I have to sleep on that bed too, and I'd prefer not to sleep in wine."

"Sorry."

"It's all right. Here." He handed me the bottle. "Drink from that."

I frowned at the bottle. "But gentlemen don't drink straight from bottles."

"You'd be surprised at the things 'gentlemen' do," he responded with another laugh.

"Really? What do they do?"

"They drink from bottles," he answered. "Now drink up." As if to prove his point, he raised his own bottle to his lips and drank.

I watched his throat, fascinated by the movement of muscles there as he swallowed. People sometimes mistook Archie for weak because of his size, but they need only look a little closer to see the powerful muscles everywhere to realise their error.

As he took the bottle away from his mouth, some of the wine spilled down his chin, making a pale red trail down his neck and onto his shirt. "Damn!" He removed his waistcoat as fast as he could undo buttons and yanked his shirt over his head.

I couldn't help myself. I laughed. Well, more of a giggle, really. "Perhaps gentlemen need more practice at drinking out of a bottle."

Never able to stay angry for long, Archie glared at me for only a second before smiling ruefully. "I suppose we do at that." He picked up the bottle and drained more wine, this time managing not to spill anything.

He put the bottle down and grinned. "That was certainly better." Then he turned and bent over the washbasin, trying to clean his shirt up a little, and I got a good view of his back. What I saw sobered me a great deal, and it occurred to me then that I'd rarely seen him without a shirt, and if I had, then only from the front.

There were scars, many of them, faded and old. Definitely not the wounds of battle, though they appeared to have been inflicted after he had grown to his full size, as there was none of the stretching and smoothing that appears in childhood scars after adulthood. The scars appeared to be deliberate, with many parallel scratch-like marks, and a few that looked cut in. My eyes were a bit fuzzy, but I could just make out shapes in two of them. They appeared to be letters.

JS

Jack Simpson.

I managed to swallow the epithets that sprang to my lips, so that all that emerged was a strangled sound.

"Everything all right, Horatio?" Archie asked without turning around.

"Fine, Archie. Too much one at once, I'm afraid." My mind was clearing, and I wanted to hurt Simpson, but I couldn't. He was already dead. A quick, easy death that was much too good for him, but a death nonetheless. He could no longer harm Archie, or anyone else.

I noticed then the line of Archie's spine--a clear, solid line straight down the centre of his back, far more prominent than any of the scars.

He turned then and saw me staring. For a moment, his eyes narrowed in confusion, but then understanding dawned, and his eyes opened wide. He crossed his arms, face going carefully blank. "Is there something wrong?"

"You're split in two." It was the first thought that came to mind, but I realised it was true, in a way. Just as that line down his back divided him, so did a line from the centre of his brow, below his nose, just at the top of his lips, on his chin, down the centre of his neck, and all the way down his chest, disappearing below the waist of his breeches.

"I'm what?"

"Split in two." I rose unsteadily from the bed and took three steps to stand in front of him. "Look," I instructed, turning him to face the mirror over the washbasin. "You've a line down the middle of you." Slowly, I traced the line from forehead to stomach. His skin was warm and soft, and his stomach quivered as my finger trailed across it--a normal reaction, to be sure, but the sharp intake of breath and something in his eyes for a mere second were not ordinary.

"So I do," he said laughingly, but the unsteady hitch in his voice belied the light tone.

"You've a matching one here," I added, stepping back enough to run two fingers down the length of his spine. I watched his reaction closely in the mirror, and there could be no mistaking the closed eyes and parted lips.

After the disastrous mission in Muzillac, I'd told Archie about Mariette. He'd very nearly laughed upon finding out I'd spent the night in a chair, but he had refrained from teasing me. Instead, he'd dragged me to a house he knew of in our very next port where a woman had kindly relieved me of my virginity and opened my eyes to many things I'd never recognised before.

Since then, we'd visited that house and a few others, and all of them had been wonderful. But when it was over, I'd gone back to the ship with no problems. I did not lie awake at night, yearning for a woman's touch. And I certainly did not feel the need to have the touch of one of my shipmates.

So why, now, did I suddenly find myself aching to touch Archie, so much so that I couldn't be sure if his response was as I suspected, or if it was simply wishful thinking on my part.

Testing the theory that it was a reaction was dangerous, but I felt free, most likely due to the alcohol, and decided to try. My hands still rested at the top of his waistband. I slipped my fingers just under the edge of the fabric and slid my hands around until they met again at the base of his stomach.

This time there was no mistaking Archie's reaction. Eyes still closed, his head tilted back and landed on my shoulder, soft hairs tickling my cheek.

Then his reason reasserted itself. His eyes flew open and he jerked away from me. "Horatio, what...we can't--"

He was right, of course. We couldn't. It was forbidden. I opened my mouth to agree. "Why not?"

He was as surprised by my words as I was. "Because...it is against the law. The Articles...Horatio, if it was discovered, we'd be hanged. Or worse."

He had a point. A very good point. No sense in courting death. Except that we did that every single day. "We risk our lives nearly every day for far less pleasurable pursuits, Archie. Either of us could die in the next battle."

I forced myself to stop talking. I would not coerce him with words. I would present him the choice. "I will understand if you don't want to. I'd never even considered it myself, but now...I'm not sure what happened. I touched you, and...." I realised my hand was reaching out to touch him again and snatched it back to my side. "The decision is yours."

I turned and went back to the bed, listening for any sound of movement in the silence. Finally, when I had very nearly decided to leave the room, I heard Archie take a few steps. The bed dipped behind me, and a hesitant hand rested on my shoulder. "I'm not sure how to proceed...."

"I would imagine it's not much different than with a woman," I said, still marvelling at my own audacity. I could never have imagined myself doing any of this, and yet it felt as natural as breathing.

"No, I mean, I've some...idea...it's just...what do you want to do, Horatio?"

I smiled then and turned, my mind getting clearer by the second. I wanted to be fully aware for this. "I suppose we'll improvise," I said as I put my hands on his shoulders. "You're sure you really want this?" I was giving him one more chance--much more than this and it would be very difficult to stop.

"Oh, yes. I've wanted this for--I just never thought--you're sure this is what *you* want?" I wouldn't want you to--out of...I mean--"

"Archie, I would never have started this if I wasn't sure." He ducked his head, eyes straying to his hand, resting on my shoulder. "What?"

"It's just...you're sure this isn't just..." he sighed, "wine and convenience?"

"Convenience? Oh, yes, Archie, it's much more convenient to risk losing my best friend and court the hangman than to go to a whorehouse down the street and find my relief." My hands slid up his shoulders and neck and into his hair. "I want you. Not someone who is 'convenient.'"

I would have laughed at his sudden rapid blinking if it hadn't been such an important moment. And then I wanted to laugh with relief as he leaned toward me. Our lips met, awkwardly at first, then with increasing assurance.

It was different than kissing a woman, with very little softness and a more urgent feeling of need. Our bodies pressed together, and I could feel the rapid pulse of his heart echoing the one in his neck. Or perhaps it echoed my own.

As I slid my hand down his back, Archie broke away, jumping up from the bed to return to the washbasin. I had just enough time to feel the cool air on my throat and wonder when my neck cloth had disappeared before I followed. "Archie?"

"I'm sorry, Horatio. I don't know what came over me."

"We don't have to do this, Archie."

He turned swiftly. "No, I want to. I do. It's just...."

"What is it?" I put my hands on his shoulders again, stroking with light, soothing movements. When I moved a hand to his back, however, he flinched away. What the devil--ah, yes. Belatedly, I remembered the scars.

His arms were wrapped around his body, and he looked as if he wanted to turn his back but was afraid to do so. Afraid I might look at his back.

He offered no resistance, however, when I turned him until his back was displayed to me. "Is this the problem?" I asked, my finger tracing one of the scars. He shivered and nodded once. "Why?"

"They're ugly reminders of things I'd much rather forget." His shoulders relaxed as I continued to trace random scars, but he was still hunched over and still refusing to look at me. "You don't know even half of my history, Horatio--"

"I think I can guess at some of it." I realised I was tracing the faded JS as I spoke. Apparently Archie realised it as well. "It doesn't matter, Archie. You're past it. It did not break you." I put my hand over the letters. "*He* did not break you."

He stilled as my meaning hit him, but he did not pull away. After a moment, I traced the uppermost scar with my tongue. Encouraged by the shiver that moved through him--a good one this time--I traced each one carefully, taking my time.

When I reached the letters, he turned, pulling me up to meet him in a kiss. This time, there was no hesitation. Our mouths fused as Archie fumbled with my waistcoat, braces and shirt, and then nearly shoved me to the bed, landing beside me almost before I'd settled there myself.

The feel of his heartbeat was stronger now, skin-to-skin. I revelled in it, and in the way it beat faster as I undid first one button on his breeches, then the other. Slowly, I pulled them off, enjoying the soft glide of his smooth, pale skin against my fingers.

I pulled his hose right along with the breeches, but had to stop and work his shoes off carefully. I managed one, but not quickly enough for him. He sat up and reached for his other foot. "Let me."

The shoe disappeared. I heard it thud on the floor, and then Archie captured my lips again and I lost awareness of everything else around me. Hazily, I realised he was disposing of my clothes, but it was still a shock when he lay down beside me and I felt warm skin against my own from head to toe.

And a hard heat to match my own about my middle.

That was something I hadn't reckoned on. I knew well enough what to do with my own cock by now, but someone else's...that was another story altogether. I closed my eyes and enjoyed the feel of Archie's hands travelling over my body as my mind reconstructed memories of everything I'd had done to me by women. Surely I could just do the same now.

Eyes still closed, I let my hand slide down his side to his hips. Almost without thought, it dipped lower, seeking out the heated flesh between his legs.

He gasped into my mouth as my hand wrapped around his cock. His reaction sent a swell of power through me, bolstering my confidence, and I opened my eyes.

Perfection. I pulled back from the kiss to see what I'd never bothered to notice before. Archie's face was simply beautiful. Finely sculpted bones, lips shaped perfectly, if slightly fuller than usual after the kisses we'd shared--he was perfect. The flush to his skin was something I'd only ever seen in the heat of battle; I wondered how I'd never noticed the beauty of that either.

His eyes opened, questioning. "Horatio?"

"How could I have never seen...you are truly beautiful, Archie."

The flush deepened, and I found myself unable to resist kissing the pulse in his neck. His hips moved forward, pushing against my hand, and I suddenly wondered how in the world two men would be able to take this through to its conclusion. Clearly there were the obvious ways, but...

Oh. A painting I'd seen at one of the whorehouses flashed into my mind. I hadn't understood it at the time, but now it was very clear. Of course, the figures in the picture had been a man and a woman, but unlike any position I'd tried, this one could be accomplished by two men. Though how was another question entirely.

Archie was pushing in earnest now, head thrown back, exposing his neck to the play of candlelight. I chased the flickers of light around his neck and shoulders, delighting in the feel of his collarbone, of all things. It was so delicate, and yet he was so amazingly strong.

"Horatio...." Archie's hands felt for my hips, pulled me closer until the back of my hand was rubbing against my own cock as I stroked his. The contact gave me an idea, and I opened my hand to encircle both our cocks at once. Now I could feel his length sliding against mine, hard and smooth, a delicious contrast to the rough calluses of my hand.

I thought of the painting again. We could have continued with just what we were doing, and it would have been bliss. But I wanted to give Archie everything.

And to get everything in return.

It wasn't all about sex, and I was quite certain at the time that it would be my only chance. That thought in mind, I slipped my hand down his back, one finger running through the crease in his backside.

I could feel the small opening there. It felt much too small for what I had in mind; perhaps women were larger? But no, I was fairly certain that was not the case. Experimentally, I slipped one finger just inside the hole there.

"Ah!" Archie bucked back against my hand, drawing my finger in a little more. "Oh, God, Horatio...." He pushed back again, and my finger sunk a bit deeper. I felt something inside him and moved my finger against it, a small movement, really. But not a small reaction. He cried out, gripping my shoulders and wriggling his hips.

"Wait," he managed finally, gasping. "Have an idea...." He pulled away deliberately, but his eyes were still a bit dazed as he looked around the room. "Ah. Here." He reached across me, nearly lying on top of me, testing my patience as our cocks rubbed against each other again. Before I could go mad, however, he pulled back and placed a jar in my hands.

"Cream," he said. "Normally used for hands, but I think it will work for this."

"For what?"

Archie had resumed touching me, hands roaming my body again. "It...well, it's a bit tight there, Horatio. If you use something...to sort of smooth the way...."

This time the flush was more from embarrassment, I could tell. But still, I had to ask, "How do you know?"

His hands slowed, and his eyes were nearly slits as he responded. "I...I just do."

"Archie--"

"It was a long time ago, Horatio, and not a situation of my choosing."

"You mean Simpson--" those words were out before I could stop them. Now it made sense. And here I'd.... "Archie...I can't--"

Archie's hand covered my mouth. "Oh yes, you can. When I said I didn't know how to proceed, it was true. I've never been with a man of my own free will. I want good memories to cover the bad ones. Please, Horatio."

I stared at him, unsure of my next move. He dipped his hand into the jar I still held and reached down to circle my cock, applying the cream with a maddening touch. "Archie...." I wasn't sure myself if I was begging him to stop, or begging for permission to continue.

"Horatio...please. Just...if you take it slow, it will be all right."

This was insanity. But then everything that had happened since we'd returned to our room was as well, so why should we stop now? As if sensing my capitulation, Archie turned onto his other side, sliding his backside over my cock in invitation. My misgivings were quickly lost in a haze of pleasure as he reached between us and guided me with his hand until I was inside him.

I felt his shoulders tense, but he did not flinch, and after a moment in which I forgot to breathe, he pushed back against me a little.

God, the feeling of it! Nothing I'd ever done with any of those women could come close to this bliss! And this was Archie, not some stranger I would leave money for on the way out the door.

This was Archie. One arm tightened automatically around his chest. The friend I'd thought I'd lost, the one I'd found again in the middle of Hell. The first one to agree to follow me back into Hell for the sake of my own honour. I knew he'd follow me into Hell again without a thought.

My Archie.

Hell was behind us. But Heaven...Heaven beckoned with each thrust. Archie was making wonderful sounds in his throat, and I knew I was not exactly silent as we slammed into each other repeatedly.

I reached around and circled his cock tightly with my hand, determined to give him as much pleasure as I was receiving. He cried out, thrusting with even more strength than I'd thought possible.

Suddenly he went rigidly still, and then he shuddered, tight, hard shudders around my cock that brought me over the edge into oblivion.

When I recovered, I realised I was nearly squeezing the life out of Archie--not that he was complaining. I placed a kiss on his shoulder, noticing a fresh mark there with some bewilderment. "Did I do that?"

He twisted his neck to glance at his shoulder then grinned up at me. "Oh, yes," he said, turning to face me. The smile on his face alleviated any fears I'd had that I'd hurt him.

I had to ask, all the same. "Are you...all right?"

He laughed. "I am much better than simply 'all right,'" he answered, followed by a kiss. "Thank you," he said finally, his eyes serious.

"I believe I should thank you." I cupped his face with my hand. "That was...."

I could not find a word to describe it, but he understood. "It was at that," he agreed, hips moving slowly. "Care to try again?"

"Archie!"

"What? This is supposed to be a celebration, is it not?"

"Yes, it is."

"Can you think of a better way to celebrate?'

I shook my head, our noses nearly touching in the process. "I cannot." Nothing in my life had ever been as good as this, not even sailing. I wondered if even my first command, should I be so fortunate, could be better than this dangerous and wonderful thing between us.

I kissed him as our hips began to move against each other, both of us eager to revel in this new feeling for as long as we could. Duty might intervene in the future, but tonight was just for us.

A celebration indeed.

---

END

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