marnanightingale | For the Sake of a Wavering Light: ATKM-fic.

Set in the All The King's Men universe, which I share with

q_skud_

Undated, sometime after All The King's Men.

For

cortese, on the occasion of her balancing her chequebook.

Dramatis personae (in alphabetical order):

Lord Alexander Rupert Edrington

Archie Kennedy.

Rating: semi-explicit sexuality.

For The Sake of a Wavering Light

"... Ready -- damn you! Hold your -- Christ. Hold your fire. Damn you. Damn you. Damn ... oh, God ... "

He caught the flailing hand in time to avoid a cut lip and heaved himself over, grumbling, groping in the dark. Still half-asleep, he stretched out to pull the thrashing body in, turning his face away until he could still the arm that now threatened to black his eye -- another bad one, then.

"I've got you, it's all right, I'm here, got you, 's all right..."

Hands skidding on sweat, he finally caught a twisting shoulder; he had him now in truth, and brought him down to sprawl across his chest, swearing softly as the chill of pooled sweat and an ill-placed elbow shocked the last warm dregs of sleep from him.

He sighed, tucking the smooth head safely under his chin, one arm firm against the shaking back, with his other hand stroking it in a rhythm as mindless and steady as his voice, murmuring nonsense until the broken cursing against his throat faded to a mumble and, finally, ceased altogether.

After a long moment, the body in his arms stiffened again, pulling away. "I'm awake, I'm fine now, I -- I'm all right, you don't have to --."

"I know you are." Archie kept his tone as gentle and as firm as his hands, still sweeping over the lean muscles like a pendulum, smoothing and coaxing until he felt the first loosening, felt the long body shifting against him as the warm mouth at his shoulder began to soften, then to explore, scattering tentative kisses where a moment before it had smeared and slipped heedlessly. The hard fingers digging into his side loosened their hold, crept higher to catch hold of his shoulder and curve over it, fingertips notching into the hollow at its base, and he turned his head until he could rest his cheek against the curve of Alexander's skull, smiling a little.

He lifted his face up, seeking in the dark, and Archie kissed him, long and slow, noting the prick stiff against his thigh, still gently mourning his lost sleep even as he sent his hand lower, until he felt the back beneath his hand begin to flex in time with his strokes, the pent-up energy in the sprawled limbs beginning to uncoil and change, their motions becoming sinuous and purposeful as the two of them grunted and tugged gently at one another, slow desire pushing away the last bitter tang of fear as they kissed and clung and rocked there in the dark, pricks cushioned between them, hands moving with lazy precision until Alexander sighed and buried his head once more against Archie's shoulder, bringing one hand up to tangle his fingers in Archie's nape, his sighs washing his collarbone in warmth, and Archie's hand slid down and his leg curled up until they were twined like oak and vine as Alexander half-turned and pressed knowing fingers into the slope of Archie's arse to bring them close, Archie rocking and whispering encouragement as the long, slow shudders began, liquid heat spilling over his belly. The slickness of it made Archie gasp and thrust hard, smiling into a drugged kiss as the hip he moved against twisted easily so that Archie's prick slid over the hollow to rub perfectly against the bone and he spent with a long sigh, sure and slow and all the sweeter for it.

"Made a bloody --" Alexander yawned -- "mess of the bed."

Archie shook his head, grinning, and rolled him off. "So you have. Here." He made a long arm to the floor, fumbling around until he came up with a discarded shirt; swiped it over the still-damp back and more gently over Alexander's belly, then tidied himself sketchily and tossed it away, to be dealt with later. Much -- he yawned hugely -- later.

Archie settled himself again, twitching the blankets up to warm their shoulders. Alexander wriggled back against him, shivering slightly; he snaked an arm over him, settling his face into the curve of his neck, snorting stray hairs away from his nose and holding Alexander hard as he sighed and relaxed, already half-asleep as Archie yawned against him and shut his eyes resolutely against the dawn that lit the rough plaster of the ceiling.