Winds of Change & Eye of the Storm

by Lee Rowan

  “What?”

  How can I ever leave you? He bit his lip. He could not say it, not in this magical place. But his time was drawing to a close. Tomorrow, he had to go back to Kingston port, return to his ship, take up the command he had once wanted above all else.

  And leave his heart behind.

  Davy’s smile wavered, replaced by concern. “Will—?”

  “How—” He swallowed, pulled Davy close, and kissed him, letting his fingers slide down and between the smooth cheeks. The warmth of his lover’s body felt good in the coolness. “How shall we manage this? Shall I go fetch that blanket?”

  “The sand is soft enough.” Davy held him fast around the waist, melding against him. His hands drifted behind Will’s thighs, gently securing him. “I want you to take me now, Will, take me hard—hard enough that I’ll never forget it.”

  The heated murmur, coupled with Davy’s clever hands and the rigid cock rubbing against his own, made Will think he would burst right on the spot. “Don’t want to hurt you,” he muttered, testing Davy’s opening with one finger. “Water’s not enough….”

  Davy pressed a vial into his hand. Oil? Where—? Oh, the little bag around his neck.

  Will dropped to his knees. “No, wait,” he said when Davy began to follow him down. “I want to be sure you’re ready.” He put the vial down in the sand beside him and ran his hands up Davy’s thighs as he rubbed his cheek against the rampant erection now at eye level, then gave it the barest caress with his lips.

  Davy gasped. “I am ready,” he protested. “I—oh!” His fingers tangled in Will’s hair, and he became quite incoherent as Will drew him slowly down to the sand, using the oil to prepare him as he paid slow, teasing homage to Davy’s cock. The rhythm of Davy’s cries and the slow rocking as he rode Will’s fingers became almost hypnotic, the water splashing against his legs as Davy stroked his shoulders, his neck. But finally it was “Please, Will, now!” and Davy was rolling up to his hands and knees to rub that glorious behind against Will’s aching member.

  He had intended to take things slowly, but he had teased just a little too long for that. As soon as he was fairly positioned, Davy slammed back against him, shouting “Yes!” and setting a wild pace that Will joined wholeheartedly. He felt almost that they were no longer two, but a single soul in a single body.

  He could not put the feeling into words—it was all he could do to hold on, knees grinding in the gritty sand, hands on Davy’s hips, bending low over Davy’s back to nip his shoulder. Davy cried out at that, then gasped, “Touch me!” and somehow it was as though he was reaching right through Davy’s body and holding his own cock, so closely did the sensation in that organ mirror the response in the one in his hand. Their movements grew ever more frantic until at last they paused, gasping for breath, then plummeted over the edge, the pleasure surging out like the water thundering down over the rocks outside.

  He managed to catch himself on one arm so that he did not actually fall upon his lover. Davy twisted in his grasp, winding arms and legs around him, kissing his throat. Without a word, he burrowed deep into Will’s embrace and relaxed. Profoundly. So much so, in fact, that after a minute or two, Will realized Davy had fallen asleep, half-in and half-out of the water.

  It was an absurd position, but the piercing sweetness of that trust kept him lying there, rocking a little with the rhythm of the waterfall, holding his precious burden until Davy finally murmured and stretched and sat up with a sheepish grin.

  “I seem to keep falling asleep,” he observed apologetically.

  “Well, you waited until we were finished,” Will said reasonably. He wanted to say more, to express the feeling that was overflowing within him, but once again failed to find words. He turned instead to the mundane. “Are you ready for dinner?”

  The hamper held good, simple fare: bread and ham, both sliced by a thoughtful cook; a jar of pickled vegetables, and a ripe pineapple. A jug of ale and another of lemonade completed the feast. Will noticed that Davy’s appetite seemed almost back to normal—or perhaps it was that he’d not had much to eat earlier.

  It was fortunate that Bruno knew the way back to the St. John stable, since they both fell asleep in the cart.

  BARON GUILFORD was a perfect host. Dinner was magnificent, the conversation entertaining, the after-dinner period mercifully short. Kit had been away from his lady long enough to know what this last night together meant to both of them.

  A tepid, scented bath stood waiting for them. They took turns soaping and rinsing each other, then dried off and pulled down the coverlet, stretching out upon the cool linen sheets. Marshall lay on his back, Davy curled up beside him, head on his shoulder, as had quickly become their habit. The sun angled down, sending its last rays through the window as it slid on its rapid journey toward dark.

  Will caressed Davy’s shoulder, wondering if it were only his imagination that his strength and vigor seemed to have increased in these past few days. “What are your plans now, Davy? Will you be staying on here?”

  “I’ve not decided.” He smiled. “My plans may depend upon your answer. When do you think you’ll return to Kingston?”

  Will hesitated. “I’ve no idea. Probably… probably not for a very long time.” He met Davy’s eyes, and saw that his friend was anticipating him. “Perhaps never. My orders are to sail tomorrow for Plymouth. I have no idea where I will be after that. Or for how long.”

  “You knew this when you came here?”

  “Yes.”

  “And said nothing?”

  “I thought….” How could he say, I hoped if I denied it, it would not happen? “I did not want to have all our time spent knowing—” His fingers dug into Davy’s arm; he could not go on.

  “Knowing that it might be the last time,” Davy finished. He closed his eyes for a long moment, lips tight. Then he breathed a deep sigh and nodded. “I understand. Thank you. That was better.” He looked up. “For me, at any rate.”

  “There is nothing I can ever give you to make up for what you’ve lost.”

  Davy’s arms slid around him. “Yes, there is. I’ve lost nothing that matters. You’re alive. Stay that way, and we’re even.”

  “But your career….”

  “Will, I shall miss you. Every day. But I will not miss the Navy, and the thrice-damned Articles, and the blind, regimented stupidity that is part and parcel of life in the service. I tell you truly, since we’ve been lovers, there’s never a day I had not thought of resigning.”

  “Davy!”

  A kiss against his ear. “Oh, I’d never have left you. But if we had been transferred to different ships, I’d have been gone like a shot. I’m old enough now that my father could not stop me leaving, and I have money enough to live. I would rather work on this plantation… I would rather be a mediocre actor—Will, I would rather muck out stables than serve under some of the captains we know, the floggers and the petty tyrants. If Captain Smith hadn’t been such a paragon, I’d have been hanged for insubordination long ago.” He stopped then, and rolled over onto Will’s chest. “Now, if I’d known you were going to get a command, I’d’ve just shot Dowling before he had the chance to do the same to me, and to hell with the Intelligence boys. I wouldn’t object at all to serving under you.” He moved his hips, reaching down to brush his lips lightly across Will’s. “Or atop you… or alongside….”

  “Davy!”

  “Mmm?” He licked a long, slow trail up the side of Will’s throat, nipping here and there. The tingles ran all the way to his toes. “What is it, Will?”

  “Half a point starboard, Mr. Archer. Yes…. Oh yes….”

  Chapter 16

  DAWN WAS coming. Exotic birds rustled and called in the cool night air; a faint gray limned the branches just outside the window. Will wished he could have ordered the sun to stay where it was, to hold back the daylight. He was not ready to leave. He would never be ready to leave.

  Somewhere, between the last shattering climax and sleep, he had reach
ed a conclusion that he could not share with his lover. He knew that once he left, he must never see Davy again, nor try to communicate with him.

  Because, after all, it was some defect in his own self that had brought this situation about. Davy had the capacity for normal relations with women. It was a youthful indiscretion, an affair with an actress, that had precipitated David Archer into the Navy. And if he was not happy in the service, he would be perfectly content to leave it.

  If David’s father had been less explosive about his son’s escapade, or Davy less impetuous, he would probably have followed some less restrictive path. He would have had the opportunity to meet young women of his own station, and all the passion and devotion that he had given to a shipmate and friend would have been bestowed on a young lady of suitable age and breeding—after all, how could any girl resist such male beauty and strength of spirit? Davy should be married, should have children by now. He should not be squandering his affection in a sterile relationship that gave him nothing but mortal risk in return.

  At the very least, he deserved the chance of a normal, happy life. Marshall desperately wanted Davy to live and be happy, and there was only one way he could see to give him that chance.

  Within the circle of his arms, Davy stirred and snuggled closer, his voice muffled against Marshall’s shoulder. “Will?”

  “Mmm?” He bent his head for a lazy kiss, trying not to acknowledge to himself that this was the last time they would ever wake together.

  “Promise me something?”

  “Anything, Davy. Anything I can give.”

  Faces nearly touching, they spoke quietly, as though loud voices would hasten the daylight. Davy’s fingers smoothed the light stubble on his cheek. “Love again.”

  “What?”

  Warm lips touched his, and the now-familiar brush of beard. He focused on the kiss, fled from thought in the reality of sensation. But Davy persisted. “If I were to die. If anything were to happen so that we had no hope of being together. Promise me you would find someone else. Let yourself love. Let someone love you.”

  His heart wrenched at how Davy’s words mirrored his own thoughts, but he knew that he’d never take that chance. Face this pain again? Impossible. He pulled Davy against him, feeling his own body rouse at the touch, sensing Davy’s response in his quickened breathing.

  “I don’t want anyone else.” He covered Davy’s mouth with his own, hands sliding down to cup the perfect, rounded flesh and bring their cocks tightly together.

  Davy groaned and his arms came around Will’s shoulders as they fed on one another. Then he pushed away, panting but stubborn. “Will, promise me this?”

  “There’s no need. I shall be fine.”

  “I know you, Will. You’ll walk away and close yourself off, and die of loneliness.”

  “Davy, for God’s sake, it’s a fucking ship-of-war! A Captain can’t—”

  “I didn’t say bugger the whole damned fleet, Will, I said love. We loved each other long before we ever did anything about it. Even if you never bed any of them—you don’t have to open your drawers to open your heart. The men can tell you care about them. They love you.”

  “The more fools they.”

  Davy’s body stiffened within his embrace. “So I’m a fool, then?”

  Oh, Christ. Remorse cut deep. What but love had driven Davy to put himself through hell a year ago, risk his good name, very nearly lay down his life? “Gods, Davy, I’m sorry. Of course I didn’t mean—”

  But Davy only laughed and relaxed again. “Well, I may be.” His tone was light. “But not fool enough to waste what time we have in quarreling.” He rolled quickly so that he was lying atop Will, the warm weight pressing him deep into the featherbed and pillows, arms bracketing his head. Davy rocked against him gently, maddeningly. Will reached up to rub his thumbs back and forth across Davy’s nipples, grinning in the dark as a shiver ran through his lover’s frame.

  Apparently the pleasure was not enough to distract him. “It’s worth the risk, Will,” he went on, his voice unsteady with arousal. “Sometimes love is all that makes life bearable. And you deserve it.”

  Marshall snorted; Davy leaned in and kissed him right between the eyes. “I don’t know what you see when you look at yourself, but you need a clearer glass.”

  Davy was wrong about that, of course; Marshall knew his own looks only too clearly. Affection was clouding Davy’s judgment. But the prospect of replacing him like a piece of broken equipment… oh, no. Not possible. He took Davy’s face between his hands. “I told you, love, I don’t want anyone else.”

  The teasing movement stopped, and Davy whispered, “I know.” He gulped, suddenly, and something wet fell on Will’s face. “Neither do I.”

  Then they were as close as a single being, arms wrapped tight, mouths sealed together, faces slicked with tears, thrusting as though urgency could somehow erase reality, but the time was slipping inexorably away. They couldn’t hold each other close enough to stop it.

  Will freed an arm somehow, found the little jar of salve Davy had brought to bed the night before, and fumbled the lid off. He scooped some out one-handed, got it into himself, reached between them, and guided Davy in. For once, Davy was too carried away to refuse, and Will felt a brief twinge of pain as his body stretched to accommodate. But it wasn’t bad, it was only fair, and he was never likely to find anyone else he could trust this much. Anyone he could want this much. Love this much.

  And it was amazing, to feel Davy’s heat inside him like this, to feel the frantic shuddering as he thrust and sobbed and thrust again, and suddenly the heat was spreading through him too, coalescing and exploding as they strained against each other and then Davy collapsed bonelessly against him, breathing in great heaving gasps.

  “Sorry—Will, I’m sorry, are you all right? Why ever did you—?”

  Will gathered Davy close, holding him still. “I’m fine, Davy.” He put a hand on Davy’s rear to keep him there inside, marveling at the sensations within his body. “I wanted—I wanted to give you that. Only you. No one else, ever.”

  “I didn’t think I could—”

  “But why not? You’re freer now than you have ever been. Why not throw off that chain as well?”

  “Didn’t want to hurt you.”

  “You didn’t. I’m fine. And… honored that you gave yourself to me that way.” And thrilled to know that David was healed at last of all the damage Correy and Adrian had done. Healed, finally, in body and in soul. Healed, whole, and ready to move on to a new life, perhaps a new love, a real marriage.

  Davy made no reply, only burrowed his face into the hollow of Will’s shoulder, holding tightly. And the cowardly part of Will, the part that could not stand to let go of this love, began to create other possibilities.

  He stroked Davy’s hair with his other hand, hating the odd coarseness the dye imparted to that golden silk. “Davy, I’ve been thinking—”

  Davy groaned. “How can you do that while you’re—” He rubbed his face against Will’s neck. “Please don’t make me think, Will. Give me a moment.”

  His full weight relaxed across Will; after a minute or so, he began to snore softly. But Will felt inexplicably alert, as ideas began to multiply. “Davy. Davy, listen.”

  “Mmmm?”

  “What if I were to resign my commission? We could work for your cousin, here, or perhaps for Sir Percy. We might hire a little boat, buy it eventually, become traders. Or we might sign on some larger vessel, go to Canada, or even America. We could work a ship on the Great Lakes. That would be safer for you. No one would know you there.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.” Davy slid off to one side and snuggled down, practically into his armpit. “You smell so damned good.” He nuzzled along the curve of Will’s chest and found a nipple.

  “Davy, I’m—Davy, stop that! I’m serious.”

  He sighed and shifted up to lean on one elbow, his hand still on Will, stroking, touching. “As I am. Will, you could never ju
st walk away.”

  “After that farce they put us through?” He had never in all his life been so furious, not only with Dowling, but with the fools who would let a murderous traitor put a bullet into the man he loved, all for their game of espionage.

  “They wanted information.” Davy spoke dismissively, as though that whole debacle had not cost him his career and nearly his life. “Think of the men who will be saved because we stopped him, Will. How many men would have been sent into ambush, like that last attack on Valiant, if we had done nothing?”

  “The butcher’s bill was high enough—”

  “Yes. But not as high as it might have been. Instead of the dead, think how many will live because of what we’ve done. And think of the men who will go on living with you as their commander. They must count for something.”

  He was thinking of them. Always. And that was part of what suddenly made resignation so alluring. “It’s war, Davy. I can’t protect them all.”

  “Of course not. But you will not waste lives needlessly, as so many captains do. And think of Captain Smith. What would he say if you were to throw away everything you’ve worked for all these years? He’s counting on you, Will. He needs you, too. So does England. The Navy needs a few men of sense, with all the bloody idiots it’s saddled with. You can’t want the Frogs to win. That whole country’s gone mad—can you imagine the bloodbath, if Bonaparte’s empire swallowed the world?”

  “One commander, more or less, makes no great difference.”

  “Would you say that about Captain Smith, Will? Or Collingwood, or Pellew? You are not just any commander. The Navy is full of good men who are nothing special as leaders. Those are the ordinary sort of commanders. You have a talent like Captain Smith’s. You can see what needs to be done, and make the men see it too, make them believe in you. They would follow you into hell.”

  Or go to hell in my place. He shook his head and pulled Davy close again, nuzzling his ear. “Do you want me to leave, then?”

  The way his breath was squeezed from him was answer enough, but Davy finally spoke. “I want to be with you. If I didn’t think someone would recognize me, I’d just change my name again and apply for a servant’s position, once you make post. I can do all sorts of things, Will, the Navy simply seemed the best choice at the time. It’s different for you. This is what you were born to do. I don’t want you to leave—but you must.”