Work Text:
As spring turned to summer, the evening light lasted longer. Some still reached the part of the forecastle their hammocks were usually slung. Watching Giles, only moments after slinging up his own hammock, retrieve one of what could have been several small yet thick (for its size) books that he had in his sea chest by its side, Kit could not stop thinking, despite any of his own feelings on it, was '*You're the strangest, most fascinating person, and I think I want to spend my entire life with you*'.
What Kit said was, "What the hell could you want to read this badly after that much work?"
Surprising him in yet another way, though again, of course, as this was Giles, he heard laughter from him in response.
"It's more relaxing than not, I know you know that."
Kit tried to hide the smile seeing and hearing that from Giles evoked, feeling lucky his smaller size made practically hiding his lower face behind the side of his hammock easier. Not that Giles would have seen much, though, practically already reading the book. Watching all of his long limbs move into his hammock that swiftly and easily was something Kit really thought he would have stopped noticing by now, but it continued to mesmerize him.
"And you know it's not what I had been, just before we left."
Kit would take advantage of that in an instant, "No, that was Shakespeare, right?"
It was the casual near-certainty he said it with that he knew Giles would be annoyed by the most, and, as much as he tried to disguise it as simple clear correction with slight amusement, the flash of something else as he did look from the pages to Kit very briefly was not missed by Kit at all.
"I know you know who Shakespeare is, and I know you remember that was Wordsworth. I recall your remarks on it well."
At the time, Kit had asked genuinely if the author always had that name. That was not the first time Kit said or asked something that prompted Giles to just look at him, after Kit repeated himself, asking sincerely, and smile a little before answering simply. And it was not at all the first time Kit knew that particular look to be a combination of sheer bewilderment at the question, confusion at what seemed to go on in Kit's mind, and possibly more. With Giles, Kit may know a lot, but there was always more to see.
"You don't know that. I didn't read very much before we met, who knows what I knew?"
Kit intended that as a joke, but the tone was, as often happened, flatter than it could have been. It effectively sounded more sincere than he would have liked. Practically feeling all the little movements by him, he could tell Giles, though he said nothing, had stopped reading due to it. Those words alone did not mean all that much, but the memories they brought back of a couple nights before did.
Kit never had a very hard time talking about what happened with his mother and father to people, or rather just telling it all. But usually there was no need for the latter. When everyone already knew something of one or the other, how could one stay uncomfortable talking about it? That was not quite the case with Giles, though. Giles knew nothing of it. And what Giles had to say back, Kit still felt curious about. But Kit could tell from just the way Giles started looking towards him-towards, or around, rather than directly at-there would be no real answers to those questions. Not then, anyways.
Kit was brought out of his memories by Giles voice after some amount of time,
"Have you ever been told your eyes seem to glow sometimes?"
This, yet again, actually surprised him. Not that Giles took note of Kit staring at him the whole time, that was hardly worth actually remarking on, at least not more than the occasional glance and slight upturn of his lips that could suggest it was almost worth smiling visibly from. That happened practically daily and nightly at this point. But hearing that was new enough that all Kit said was,
"I've never heard that, no."
"They always have."
Giles was reaching down to put the book back into the sea chest, which was rather easy for him, but to Kit, further demonstrated even more of how he maneuvered his arms as though they were all gracefully, delicately forced by unseen strings.
"I'd say the fading light caused it, but I notice it almost every time I come down from the rigging to you."
That, on the other hand, bring a little heat to Kit's face. But the fact that it did only made things worse. So what if Giles saw the way he stared up at him when he would climb the rigging? How many men that tall and thin like him had a similar strength?
"Well, it's strange no one else on the ship has ever mentioned it, then."
Kit reasoned that if Giles was going to make him think about the fact that other sailors might see as he stared up at Giles lithe form in the rigging, almost like an albatross to him, his arms and legs still so well-defined that high up and moving even faster than Kit usually could there, he may as well use it to poke a hole in whatever sort of absurd theory Giles now seemed to have.
"And I doubt anyone else looks as closely."
Kit had turned away by now, but looked over again at this. When his sentences cut off more like this, and his southern accent seemed to slip throigh easier, as it was, Kit could tell Giles was more visibly tired.
The combination of that showing across his face, sharply defined and still somehow almost pale enough to seem to glow in the last hints of sun from above, normally painfully composed, looking over at Kit with a soft sort of disheveledness made Kit feel ways he knew he could never find the words for even of he did try.
This was a more impulsive choice, but Kit figured that most of what they had said had been whispered so far anyways, and he could always blame Giles for smiling at him with his shirt loose in a way that tempted him as it did,
"If either of us wake up before next watch, meet me in the orlop."
After that, Kit closed his eyes. Giles didn't say anything, and nothing needed to be. They started meeting like that on their first voyage. Both understood there to be a certain level of comfort found there alone, together, that was hard to have anywhere else. But it was their second voyage, and anything was possible with Giles.
To blame it on what Kit said just before would feel wrong. Especially when it was Giles himself who had been letting a lack of sleep get to him and saying things as ridiculous as he did to Kit before that. No, he only blamed himself for that dream. Some sort of she-wolf, at least in that she had a wolfish approach to her, dark hair covering her body, and the eyes of something about to pounce on and eat him. And in a sense, she did, her claws scratching against and holding him down as he did realize she was a she-wolf by sensation more than anything else.
He still felt hot all over from it and tempted to finish himself off simply and easily, but Kit managed to distract him, against his own expectations.
It was a very simple sight. Kit's soft, rounder features, how dark his hair was against him, and how fluffy it looked even less orderly as he slept. If they were any closer, Giles could practically hold him, and, not for the first time, he wished he could.
He hardly even saw Kit's eyes flash open, and tried not to think of the dream, when he heard, said as quietly yet clearly as possible, "What are you thinking of?"
Giles doubted Kit could have known even half of it, but the irritation the question caused, the mere possibility of Kit having figured part of it out and having been practically asleep at the same time, tempted him enough.
"I was thinking only that I wish, sometimes, I had a wife."
Kit's eyes were still lidded when he opened them but even as dark as it was, Giles could see how his whole expression was one that suggested something Giles was wary of even guessing.
Only a few moments passed, as if to make sure it seemed all others in the forecastle were asleep, before Kit said, "I could be your wife tonight, if you like. I can't see anything about it I can't do."
Giles was about to say something before watching and carefully listening as Kit left his hand hammock, looking at him, not smiling as much but with the same fox-like look to his face, and seemed to move silently through the forecastle to where he knew lead to the orlop. Almost like a ship could just as well have been a home he had lived in for years.
The way Kit could do things like this, and seem to go from turning away from him in one moment and then saying and doing this the next, reignited what felt like it dulled at the sight of Kit apparently asleep peacefully. This was the exact sort of thing that brought out a lot more feeling in him than Giles always expected. It felt like watching a cat hunt for you, and in the process almost break valuable items.
But was did he even really mean that?
While Giles hands were practically shaking from anxiety, another part of him still felt almost pulsing with want. The dream and what he woke up to seemed to blend together, in some ways. But waiting a little longer before walking from his own hammock and towards the orlop, his every step feeling painfully heavy against the wood, he certainly did not feel like the prey of the she-wolf, not quite.
The orlop was, luckily, still quite well full of different boxes being transported. It was rather early in the voyage, after all. Even if someone were to check, at least one of them could hide well enough.
Knowing each was there by just quietly speaking each other's names, Giles then actually expressed how he felt,
"I know you could say the same for me, but that was hardly all that amusing."
Given the way he could still hear Kit smiling a little, Giles still felt he probably did, but was even more surprised to hear,
"No. I'm serious. What do you want from a wife can I not do, here and now?"
Giles tried to avoid doing something even more impulsive and more physically painful to Kit than just leaving, but with a tone of deep frustration, said, "Well, it isn't with your mouth I want it, and I don't think either of us have had it before. Mind that you have, I still have hope you can gather it from that."
Kit did seem to take a few more moments to decide what to say before settling on, "I have thighs well enough, don't I?"
His tone was different from what Giles expected. That hint of mirth seemed gone, and something else remained. But Giles tried to convince himself he was imagining it, whatever it may have been. God only knew how his blood was elsewhere than his brain by then.
Before Giles could even come up with what to say to that, Kit did speak again, practically whispering with only an inch of space or so between them, "I want to, Giles. It can just be a friend helping a friend, but here and now? I'd like to be your wife, and I'd like you to treat me how you'd treat her."
All he could manage out was something like, 'alright, then', before practically shoving his lips against Kit's. The sound of Kit's sharp inhale from that followed quickly by Kit quickly trying to deepen the kiss within only a few seconds made Giles only hope Kit was, though he struggled to understand how, as satisfied by some of this as he was.
Kit was the one to try moving things even farther, though it was hardly much more than desperate movements of his hands from around Giles back to trying to undo the buttons on what little clothes Giles had on between them. Hardly taking any off, and more accurately just undoing a few buttons, Kit seemed eager enough only using his hand to experimentally stroke Giles off that Giles felt he could hardly breathe from any of it. The fact that they had hardly separated from each other long enough to allow for that very much could not have helped.
As much as the feeling of both of Kit's hands leaving him entirely was something of a sudden loss, the sounds of Kit unbuttoning and pulling his underthings down to his ankles certainly improved it.
Kit sounded even further gone than Giles, though he had yet to touch him very much, as he whispered, "I-I need it.. I need you to have me bent over this box, just-"
The desperation in Kit's voice convincing him well enough, Giles gently felt around and began to stroke Kits bare thighs and moved up, eventually practically caressing Kits waist, and whispering as quietly as he could, "I can't leave you wanting, can I? Not when you're being this good a wife."
As much as he wanted this, he was still surprised by just how much it seemed Kit had been thinking of it as well. The way he could feel how he must be bent against the box of just the perfect height made Giles wonder if this was something Kit thought about before.
Trying to focus more on the task at hand, Giles took himself in hand and slid between Kit's upper thighs. How soft and warm they were and the feeling of some of the most purely physical proof Kit was enjoying this as much as he was all together had him just barely holding back quiet sounds of pleasure. As he, moving his hands to gently yet firmly grip Kit's waist, slowly started moving, thrusting shallowly at first and then harder, Kit seemed to be only muffling his own sounds of enjoyment.
Giles was eventually able to speak to Kit again, still only whispering as he briefly paused his movements, "God, you're.. you're so good at this, you really are a good wife.."
Saying that at all seemed to make Kit shake and almost whine again, even when he had stopped moving, encouraging Giles to say, "I'd take and ruin your cunt every night if I could-"
Kit made a sound almost like a sob, rocking his hips back against Giles at the same time. They moved back into something more of a rhythm of that, only interrupted briefly when Giles tried to move one of his hands from Kit's waist to at least try to return some of what he felt he was being given.
To his surprise, Kit gasped and moved his hand from in front of him down to slap Giles away and just mutter out a breathy, "N-no. Don't."
Giles stopped moving again, if only out of surprise, "But.. Kit, you're doing this well but I know you are-"
"Just-just don't-just pretend I can't. Please. Giles, please just.. act like I don't have a.."
Kit's voice sounded different, oddly. Still barely able to stay even at all, but almost as if on the verge of crying. Giles would not have known what to say in even more lucid circumstances, but as things were, he moved his hand back to Kit's waist and leaned down to kiss his neck and collar area. They were not the heated, passionate kisses the two exchanged earlier, but something more chaste.
Nothing was said about it, and after only a few more minutes, Giles gripped Kit hard enough to bruise as he spent himself between his thighs.
After securing his own few underthings back on well enough, Giles once again reached out to help Kit only to feel Kit's hand around his own arm,
"Don't worry about it. I don't need any help. I-I'm not all that delicate, and I can deal with it myself."
The end of his words were still said with a hint of a smile, but Giles still heard what sounded almost like a sort of pain behind them.
Giles stayed behind as he listened to Kit walk back to the forecastle, barely able to hear his footsteps but listening as carefully as he could. He stayed behind a little while longer just to think about what he heard.
Even just walking back, Giles could only conclude Kit felt hurt by something. Exactly what, Giles could only assume it simply had to be the whole act itself. But why would Kit have gone that far out of his way to make himself feel so much worse?
Climbing back into his own hammock, he found it hard to tell if Kit was awake. Whether he was or not, he said, "I'd like to thank you, Kit. I think you understand me and know what I need better than anyone I've met. Better than I myself do, it seems." His words were quiet enough that he wondered if Kit could even hear them if he was awake. Even if they were just for himself, he said, "I think only you I could truly call a friend."