Trangulation 4/5
Mar. 8th, 2008 03:30 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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rugbytackleTitle : Triangulation 4/5
Pairing : Sharpe/Viggo, Sharpe/Harper
Rating : NC-17
Summary : Sharpe is send on a mission, and this time Harper can't go with him.
Warning : AU, crossover
Authors :![[profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
mooms (Viggo & Harper) govi20 (Sharpe)
Disclaimer : Sharpe and Harper belong to Bernard Cornwell, not to us, which is a shame. Written for fun, not for profit and indeed all dirty lies !
Previous parts : here
Pairing : Sharpe/Viggo, Sharpe/Harper
Rating : NC-17
Summary : Sharpe is send on a mission, and this time Harper can't go with him.
Warning : AU, crossover
Authors :
mooms (Viggo & Harper) govi20 (Sharpe)Disclaimer : Sharpe and Harper belong to Bernard Cornwell, not to us, which is a shame. Written for fun, not for profit and indeed all dirty lies !
Previous parts : here
Triangulation
Part 4/5
Sharpe
It’s amazing how easy it has been to achieve our aim. We work together as if we have been doing it for years. I praise my good luck, which again has got me and Viggo through this quite hopeless mission.
We run from the tent and have almost reached the tree line, when I hear shouting and see Viggo turn round. There are two of them, and I drop myself to the ground, but then I feel a heavy blow on my left thigh, and I know I’ve been hit. I curse when the pain hits me and then the sky is suddenly lit up, when the last grenade we planted finally explodes.
I hide my face in my arms until it’s safe to look up again, and I start crawling towards Viggo, who’s already hiding between the trees. An excruciating pain makes me almost cry out, and cold sweat is pouring from my brow, but I clench my teeth and manage to crawl up to where Viggo is waiting. The sky is still lit by the explosions and the last thing I see before I black out is his horrified face.
I regain consciousness because of someone slapping my face, and I open my eyes to look into Viggo’s worried ones. He pulls me into a half-sitting position and puts my arm around his shoulder.
“Get up Richard! We will have to get out of here, before they start looking for us, and I can’t carry you. You will have to help me!”
He pulls me to my feet and I lean on him heavily, but we manage to start moving. It fucking hurts, and I know I’ll never be able to make it up that hill. I stand still, clasping his shoulder.
“You go on Viggo, just leave me here. You know I can’t climb that hill, and this way they’ll capture us both and execute us. “
He doesn’t even look at me, just drags me into moving again, his voice harsh,
“Don’t be foolish Richard. Of course I am not leaving you, we are in this together, remember? Now move!”
We no longer talk, and I am saving my breath for struggling along. When we reach the path we came down, Viggo helps me lower myself to the ground. His breath is almost as laboured as mine now from dragging me.
“I’ll have a look, see if I can find us some kind of shelter. Try to keep awake, Richard. “
His hand presses on my arm for a moment, and then he’s gone. Now that I am lying down, the sweat is starting to cool down, and soon I am shivering with cold. Blood loss is making me feel light headed and I curse the frog who fired that shot, hoping he died when the ammunition went up.
I really try to stay alert, but I can’t help sinking away in some sort of half sleep, snapping out of it when I hear Viggo coming back. The sky is blackened again now, only the moon and stars throwing a pale light through the pall of smoke. He bends over, in an effort to look at my face,
“I’ve found a cave Richard, and we’ll be safe there. It’s not far, come on, up on your feet again.”
Once again he pulls me up, patiently waiting for me to regain my breath and then slowly guiding me. He did not lie, it really isn’t far, but it still takes all of my strength to get there, and I am grateful when I am finally able to lie down. We had brought down candles in our supplies, and Viggo strikes a flint and lights two of them.
He goes back outside immediately and I close my eyes. In here it is not really warm, but at least there is no icy wind, and it’s dry. When I open my eyes again, Viggo is just stepping into the cave again, his arms full of ferns. He crouches down beside me, spreading the ferns on the rocky floor, making a primitive sort of bed.
He helps me to lie on it, and then slowly cuts off my breeches. I bite my tongue not to cry out, when he starts examining my wound, his hands firm but careful. He takes the flask of water from his bag and lets me drink a few sips.
“I am sorry I didn’t bring the brandy with me Richard,” he says. “The water will have to do for now. In the morning I will get back up, and fetch the rest of our stuff. I am sorry if I hurt you, but I’ll have to clean your wound now and try to dress it. It doesn’t look too bad though, thank God. It’s just a flesh wound, and it hasn’t hit any vital parts. If that bullet had struck you only a bit higher, I would have been really sad Richard.”
His white teeth show as he smiles, and despite all I grin back.
“You bastard, is buggering me the only thing you can think about? “
He stands up and sheds some of his clothes, taking off the white linen undershirt. Wearing only his jacket over his bare chest now, he rips the shirt into long strips, wetting a few of them to clean the wound. It is painful, but I’ve had worse, and when he has finally dressed the wound it isn’t too bad. He lies beside me, pulling more ferns over us, and then holds me close.
“Try to sleep now Richard, we’re safe here.”
Viggo
I am shocked to see that Richard is wounded and as I rush to him, he passes out in my arms.
Cursing, I slap his face to bring him round and after a few moments, his eyelids flutter open and after a couple of seconds, his eyes focus on my face.
He is in pain, but we cannot afford ourselves the luxury of resting here. It is too dangerous, although the sounds from the French camp are of chaos, with men shouting, horses and humans screaming and fires raging unchecked.
I have to get him further up into the hills, but once on his feet, he tries to get me to abandon him and go on alone. Angered that he would even think me capable of such a thing, I force him to move and somehow, between us, we manage to get to the foot of the steep path we descended by.
Richard is not going to be able to get up the steep incline in his present condition, so I leave him and search for a hiding place. These mountains are riddled with caves and I find one with a concealed entrance, where we can hide for at least tonight.
I manage to get him into it and collect ferns to make it a little more comfortable, then I can look at his wound and do my best to tend it. I carefully cut away his breeches, leaving him naked from the waist down.
Luckily, the bullet has passed cleanly through flesh, not breaking any bone and I don’t have to worry about getting the bullet out. I manage to clean it and tear up my shirt for bandages, making a joke to distract him from the pain. I curse myself for not bringing the brandy.
Finally I tell him to sleep, blow out the candles and curl around him, covering us with ferns as best as I can.
Richard sleeps, weak from pain and loss of blood, but I wake constantly, one ear always cocked for the sound of French pursuers outside the cave.
At dawn, I reluctantly slide away from Richard’s sleeping body and look out of the cave entrance. All seems quiet, so I go into the trees to pee.
I have to choose whether to head up the hill and see that our horses and gear are still there, or work my way back into the French camp and check on whether they are searching for us. Making my decision, I crawl back into the cave and rubbing my fingers in the soot from the candles, smear my face. I tear my French uniform and go towards the camp.
Arriving at the perimeter, even I am surprised at the devastation the two of us managed to cause. Most of the tents have been reduced to heaps of ash and they have taken as many casualties as if there had been a battle. They have not even set any piquets and the survivors are stumbling around, still dazed, some trying to tend the wounded, others sitting numb and shocked amid the blackened ruins.
I pick up a bucket of water I find nearby and mingle among them, as if I am on an errand of mercy, listening to snatches of conversation.
It seems that all the officers were killed in their mess tent and many men were killed or badly wounded in the big explosion, which was our parting shot. The horses were either killed or pulled themselves free of their tethers in panic and fled.
This company consists mainly of young and inexperienced soldiers and without orders, the survivors seem at a loss. It doesn’t seem that they sent men to find the culprits, who they suspect to have been the partisans.
“Those bastards will have ridden miles away from here by now,” says one Frenchman, with a bandage round his head and a livid burn down the side of his face and he spits.
“Water, over here,” shouts a woman camp-follower, who is tending to a row of wounded men, so I take my bucket over and hand it to her, then slip quietly away, smiling secretly to myself.
I find our clothes behind the rocks, where we left them and bundle them up, dropping them in at the cave on my way back. Richard is still sleeping.
Climbing back to the top of the hill, I find that our horses are still there and safe. I give them some attention, then collect our remaining provisions and the brandy and return.
This time, Richard wakes and rolls onto his back, dislodging the covering ferns and blinking at me.
“Well, I am glad to see that you are awake and standing to attention!”
“I’m not standing,” he says, slow to take my meaning, then when he does, he blushes and rolls his eyes at me.
I help him up and outside to piss and he shivers and curses at the biting wind around his arse.
Back in the cave I check and redress the wound and help him into his own uniform again. We eat some of our rations and I tell him what I learnt from the French.
“So that was not a bad night’s work, my friend. We got Le Triomphe for your Major Hogan, we struck a severe blow against the enemy and we survived. You truly are a lucky charm!”
“I got a bullet through me leg, in case you have forgotten!”
“A flesh wound only! You are strong and you will recover. What’s another scar to Richard Sharpe, among so many?”
As I speak, I slip my hand beneath his tunic and trace one of his many scars.
He shivers and leans in to kiss me, his hand gripping my inner thigh.
“I think it will be safer if we stay here until nightfall, Richard and move out once it gets dark. I brought the bedrolls and the brandy, but we need a way to amuse ourselves. Have you any ideas?”
Sharpe
Surprisingly enough I sleep rather well, only occasionally waking up from pain if I try to turn. In the morning, a narrow ray of light falling across my face from the entrance, I wake up and find myself alone. I assume Viggo has gone back up to fetch our provisions. My leg is throbbing, but luckily I don’t seem to have a fever. Viggo must have done a good job, despite the poor means he had to work with. I still feel weak though and fall asleep again.
I wake again, hearing Viggo. He’s carrying our belongings and he grins at me, making jokes even now, the bastard. He helps me outside so I can take a piss, and I curse when the wind almost freezes my naked arse.
Inside, Viggo tends the wound, and redresses the bandage. It feels good having my pants back on, as it is quite embarrassing to see my cock jerk every time his hands move over my body. Bloody thing seems to have a mind of its own.
We eat some of what’s left over from our provisions, and I am starting to feel better every minute.
Viggo is rather elated, telling me about the devastation we managed to bring to the French camp. Of course it’s amazing we did that, being just the two of us, and most of all succeeding in bringing Hogan’s mission to a good end is an achievement. He does seem to forget, though, that we’re not in safety yet, and I am wounded, which won’t make things any easier.
He’s not too worried though, and of course I’ve had more serious injuries than this. His hand slipping under my tunic, caressing my naked skin distracts me more than sufficiently, and I pull him into a hungry kiss.
I grin when he asks me for suggestions to enjoy ourselves here until nightfall. Holding on to his thigh, I drop my voice a little.
“Yesterday evening when we left I thought about buggering you for a change if we came out alive. I kept myself busy thinking how I could persuade you into it or how we could perhaps have a friendly struggle over it.”
His eyes widen, and he yelps when I pinch his inner leg, but then he grins too.
“Well, we did come out alive, so what is keeping you Richard? Must be that wounded leg I suppose.”
“I agree I am not up to buggering anyone right now,” I say, “but just keep it in mind Viggo, I tend to heal remarkably quickly. Anyway, for now, it does reduce our options.”
“There are more than enough options Richard, believe me. But let me get us more comfortable first.”
He reaches out for our bedrolls, spreading them out on the floor, patting them invitingly. The ferns weren’t too bad really, but the blankets still feel better. He kneels between my legs, leaning in to kiss me, carefully avoiding resting his weight on me.
“I am not that wounded,” I say arching up, longing for the pressure of his hand on my cock.
His nimble fingers working on the buttons of my tunic, he chuckles. “Patience, Major Sharpe, is a virtue,” and then his mouth is on one of my nipples as if I am a woman, but fuck, it feels good, and I moan helplessly.
He slowly works his mouth lower, dipping his tongue into my navel, his moustache tickling my skin. I buck up wildly forgetting about my leg, then biting back a cry of pain. He opens my breeches, his hand wriggling in until he cups my balls, and then licks a broad stripe over my cock.
No one but cheap whores in brothels, if I paid them enough, ever did that to me, and this feels so much better. His weight on my hip keeps me pinned down as his other hand grips my cock firmly, and he takes me into his mouth.
My hands fly down and tangle in his hair, keeping him there, right there. He works his tongue in the most wicked way and it makes me cry out shamelessly. His mouth slides down my cock, taking me in almost completely and then it’s too much. I try to warn him, but I am simply beyond speech and I come with a hoarse cry.
I fall back, fighting for breath and composure. I feel him crawl up to lie down beside me, and I have to force myself to open my eyes and look at him.
“I ... am sorry,” I stammer, “I didn’t mean to..,” but he interrupts me.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about Richard, I wanted that,” he says and leans in to kiss me. For a moment I hesitate, not very eager to get a taste of myself, but then I kiss him back.
“That were great,” I say when he releases me, and let my hand slide down his body, to stroke his rock-hard erection. He moans, and arches up in my hand. I fumble with his breeches until he gets up and sheds them.
“Turn around,” I say, and he does so eagerly. I take his cock in my hand, feeling a bit taken aback, but fair is fair, so I close my eyes and take him into my mouth.
Viggo
I am relieved that Richard is not running a fever and have high hopes that we can lie low here for the day and set off back to his camp tonight.
He is very strong, with amazing powers of recovery, which must be how he has survived so many wounds. The countless scars marring his body tell their own story. Yet for all his scars he is beautiful and I wish that it were not so cold, so that I could undress him completely.
We joke about what we can do to amuse ourselves and he admits to his desire to turn the tables and take me. I let him know that I would not be averse to that suggestion, but we are both aware that right now, it is out of the question.
I make us more comfortable by spreading the bedrolls and then I start to explore our options, unbuttoning his tunic and indulging my urge to taste him by latching onto one of his nipples.
He reacts with surprised pleasure and I smile to myself as I think that this is something he has never done with Harper. I move on down nuzzling and licking until I reach his navel and he bucks up, causing him to cry out in pain.
Pinning his hips, I tease and swallow his cock, soon being rewarded by the gush of his hot seed and his guttural cry of pleasure.
When I crawl back up to look at him, he is blushing again and has his eyes squeezed tight shut. He makes an obvious effort to look at me and begins a hesitant apology, but I hush him, telling him that there is no need. I follow up by kissing him and letting him taste himself.
I am so hard that it is painful and I moan, when I feel his hand on me, then he is fighting to unfasten my breeches and I scramble to my feet to take them off.
He tells me huskily to turn round and as I do so, he sits up and grasps my cock firmly. I sink to my knees, eyes closed, expecting to receive relief from his hand, but my eyes snap open with surprise, as the wet heat of his mouth engulfs me.
All rational thoughts fly from my head, as I watch his bowed head and revel in the sensations he is invoking. He is clearly not experienced in this and a little clumsy, but he goes at it with enthusiasm and it doesn’t take long before I feel my balls tighten and I jerk away from him, roughly shouting a warning. I am just in time and my own seed spills on the ground.
Shaking, I lie down beside him and we hold each other, neither of us able to speak.
Eventually he asks me,
“Well? Not bad for a first time, eh?”
“Estupendo!”
“I’ve always been a quick learner!”
I chuckle, put my breeches back on and we share some brandy, then wrap ourselves in the blankets and curl up to sleep. This time, I sleep heavily.
When I wake, Richard is propped on one elbow, looking at me. I smile at him and pull him down to kiss him. When we finally break apart, he furrows his brow and asks me,
“Viggo, where did you learn these tricks? I mean, you like women and you told me you were married.”
“Oh I’ve been around. I do like women, but so do you. You have quite the reputation, my friend.”
He rolls onto his back and sighs.
“Aye, but I did love Teresa, you know. Only…”
“Tell me.”
He turns to face me and I stroke the back of my hand down his face.
“I did love her, but I was unfaithful. It was a woman I knew in the past and it meant nothing. But Teresa died saving her.”
He slumps down against me and I stroke his hair soothingly, as he begins to cry, his face pressed into my shoulder.
I rock him gently like a baby and finally he raises his head and I dry his tears with my bandana.
“No regrets, Richard. She loved you too and those she loved, she would forgive anything. When we were children, I once set her hair braids on fire, by accident of course, but she forgave me.”
He begins to laugh,
“Liar!”
“True, I promise you! We were trying to make our own fireworks for the fiesta. But I extinguished her by rolling her in the sand and after she punched me, she forgave me. Now, how is your leg?”
I check his wound and am happy to see that there is no sign of any inflammation. I re-bandage it, confident that we will be able to make good our escape tonight. He is still in pain, but he agrees that with my help, he will be able to make it to our horses.
As soon as it is dark, we leave the shelter of the cave and leaning on me heavily, Richard begins the journey up the steep hill. By the time we reach the horses, we are both sweating heavily, in spite of the cold and he leans, panting against Caballero, getting up the strength to mount.
I help him onto the horse, telling him that he’ll have to do better than that if he expects to mount me. In return I get a snort and a thump to my shoulder,
“Give me another day and I’ll be more than capable of getting me leg over you, you bastard.”
I smile as I get onto Hidalgo, pleased that the old, cocky Sharpe is back.
Sharpe
I am certainly not doing as well as Viggo did, but I try very hard, and judging by the sounds he makes, Viggo is enjoying it. I am glad he pulls out before I end up with a mouthful to be honest, I don’t think I am ready for that yet.
The brandy we share tastes good, and we both feel tired, so we decide to sleep for a few hours. This time I am awake before him, and I feel quite good. My leg is still hurting, but not too bad, and I am glad that will allow us to leave here. I don’t like the French being so close by.
I rest my head on my hand, and look at Viggo. His sleep is peaceful and quiet, and relaxed like this he seems very young, despite the rather aggressive looking moustache. These last few days have been good, despite my injury, but it’s all a bit scary too. This man – a practical stranger to me really – has made me do things I never did before.
He told me he was married, but the way he worked my body tells me he has had a lot of experience with men before too and I feel curious about that.
There’s also the fact that he was related to Teresa. If Teresa hadn’t died, he wouldn’t be in her place and I would have probably never even met him. But I can’t honestly be sorry that I did, so what does that make me? And if it wasn’t for me, Teresa wouldn’t have died in the first place. There’s a turmoil going around in my head, torn as I am between guilt and this feeling I have for Viggo.
The first thing he does when he wakes up is reach out to kiss me. We talk a little, and somehow I start to tell him about Teresa, and how I was unfaithful to her. Suddenly it’s too much and for the first time in years I really weep, hiding my face in the crook of his neck. I feel very much embarrassed, but he makes me smile again, telling me one of his tales. I never know whether to believe them or not.
He checks the wound on my thigh, which seems clean, and we agree on leaving as soon as it’s dark.
That evening we make our way up the hill, Viggo supporting my weight all along. It hurts like fuck and we’re both sweating when we finally reach the horses, but I am still glad we made it. I know I’ll live, and I am really quite lucky, because it could have been much worse.
Viggo helps me to get on the horse, Caballero, who seems genuinely pleased to see me, and I pat his neck. Of course Viggo has to make one of his dirty jokes again, but I feel confident enough to strike back at him.
Then we are off, and I shift until I find an almost pain free way to sit and still stay in the saddle. We ride almost all night, until we find an empty farmhouse, a finca, as Viggo calls it, and we decide to rest there. I am glad, because my leg is hurting very badly again, and I know I wouldn’t have lasted much longer. I am exhausted and it’s hard to dismount from the horse, even with Viggo’s help.
Viggo brings me into the house, and amazingly enough there’s a bed, with a mattress still on it. The owners must have fled to one of the villages for safety when the French came here. It’s pure bliss to slump down on the bed, and I fall asleep immediately, only vaguely aware of Viggo pulling off my boots.
I am woken up only once, by an owl hooting. I am a bit confused, but then I feel the tickle of Viggo’s warm breath on my neck. I smile and pull up the blankets he must have thrown over us earlier and fall asleep again.
When I wake up the next time I am alone again. I carefully move my leg, and even though it feels stiff, the pain is much less than yesterday. I manage to get up myself, aware of a delicious smell.
Picking up my rifle from the floor I lean on it and hobble my way towards that smell. I am starving, and my stomach rumbles.
Viggo smiles when I come into the kitchen. There’s not much there anymore, but he has managed to get the old wood stove burning, and something is simmering in a big black cast iron pot, spreading that smell that brings water to my mouth.
“What is it you’re cooking,” I ask, hobbling closer.
“Good morning to you too Richard,” he says, but he smiles. “I was lucky enough to shoot another rabbit earlier, though it was rather a skinny one, and I found some dried herbs and onions in the cellar, so I am making stew. It won’t be long now. I also found a small stream, so we have fresh water. Once we are eating I will heat some water and I can do a better job at cleaning your wound. We could also wash ourselves a little after that. So how are you feeling, how’s your leg?”
I smile back at him, damned grateful to be with him,
“Feeling better every minute. My leg isn’t too bad anymore, and I’ll probably be fit again in no time. I am starving though, so how long before that stew is ready?”
He looks in the pot, stirring the contents around a little with a piece of wood...
“Maybe another 30 minutes."
I grin and step in closer, reaching out for him.
“Not long enough for what I have planned. Let’s just wait and eat, and then I’ll fuck you.”
TBC
Part 4/5
Sharpe
It’s amazing how easy it has been to achieve our aim. We work together as if we have been doing it for years. I praise my good luck, which again has got me and Viggo through this quite hopeless mission.
We run from the tent and have almost reached the tree line, when I hear shouting and see Viggo turn round. There are two of them, and I drop myself to the ground, but then I feel a heavy blow on my left thigh, and I know I’ve been hit. I curse when the pain hits me and then the sky is suddenly lit up, when the last grenade we planted finally explodes.
I hide my face in my arms until it’s safe to look up again, and I start crawling towards Viggo, who’s already hiding between the trees. An excruciating pain makes me almost cry out, and cold sweat is pouring from my brow, but I clench my teeth and manage to crawl up to where Viggo is waiting. The sky is still lit by the explosions and the last thing I see before I black out is his horrified face.
I regain consciousness because of someone slapping my face, and I open my eyes to look into Viggo’s worried ones. He pulls me into a half-sitting position and puts my arm around his shoulder.
“Get up Richard! We will have to get out of here, before they start looking for us, and I can’t carry you. You will have to help me!”
He pulls me to my feet and I lean on him heavily, but we manage to start moving. It fucking hurts, and I know I’ll never be able to make it up that hill. I stand still, clasping his shoulder.
“You go on Viggo, just leave me here. You know I can’t climb that hill, and this way they’ll capture us both and execute us. “
He doesn’t even look at me, just drags me into moving again, his voice harsh,
“Don’t be foolish Richard. Of course I am not leaving you, we are in this together, remember? Now move!”
We no longer talk, and I am saving my breath for struggling along. When we reach the path we came down, Viggo helps me lower myself to the ground. His breath is almost as laboured as mine now from dragging me.
“I’ll have a look, see if I can find us some kind of shelter. Try to keep awake, Richard. “
His hand presses on my arm for a moment, and then he’s gone. Now that I am lying down, the sweat is starting to cool down, and soon I am shivering with cold. Blood loss is making me feel light headed and I curse the frog who fired that shot, hoping he died when the ammunition went up.
I really try to stay alert, but I can’t help sinking away in some sort of half sleep, snapping out of it when I hear Viggo coming back. The sky is blackened again now, only the moon and stars throwing a pale light through the pall of smoke. He bends over, in an effort to look at my face,
“I’ve found a cave Richard, and we’ll be safe there. It’s not far, come on, up on your feet again.”
Once again he pulls me up, patiently waiting for me to regain my breath and then slowly guiding me. He did not lie, it really isn’t far, but it still takes all of my strength to get there, and I am grateful when I am finally able to lie down. We had brought down candles in our supplies, and Viggo strikes a flint and lights two of them.
He goes back outside immediately and I close my eyes. In here it is not really warm, but at least there is no icy wind, and it’s dry. When I open my eyes again, Viggo is just stepping into the cave again, his arms full of ferns. He crouches down beside me, spreading the ferns on the rocky floor, making a primitive sort of bed.
He helps me to lie on it, and then slowly cuts off my breeches. I bite my tongue not to cry out, when he starts examining my wound, his hands firm but careful. He takes the flask of water from his bag and lets me drink a few sips.
“I am sorry I didn’t bring the brandy with me Richard,” he says. “The water will have to do for now. In the morning I will get back up, and fetch the rest of our stuff. I am sorry if I hurt you, but I’ll have to clean your wound now and try to dress it. It doesn’t look too bad though, thank God. It’s just a flesh wound, and it hasn’t hit any vital parts. If that bullet had struck you only a bit higher, I would have been really sad Richard.”
His white teeth show as he smiles, and despite all I grin back.
“You bastard, is buggering me the only thing you can think about? “
He stands up and sheds some of his clothes, taking off the white linen undershirt. Wearing only his jacket over his bare chest now, he rips the shirt into long strips, wetting a few of them to clean the wound. It is painful, but I’ve had worse, and when he has finally dressed the wound it isn’t too bad. He lies beside me, pulling more ferns over us, and then holds me close.
“Try to sleep now Richard, we’re safe here.”
Viggo
I am shocked to see that Richard is wounded and as I rush to him, he passes out in my arms.
Cursing, I slap his face to bring him round and after a few moments, his eyelids flutter open and after a couple of seconds, his eyes focus on my face.
He is in pain, but we cannot afford ourselves the luxury of resting here. It is too dangerous, although the sounds from the French camp are of chaos, with men shouting, horses and humans screaming and fires raging unchecked.
I have to get him further up into the hills, but once on his feet, he tries to get me to abandon him and go on alone. Angered that he would even think me capable of such a thing, I force him to move and somehow, between us, we manage to get to the foot of the steep path we descended by.
Richard is not going to be able to get up the steep incline in his present condition, so I leave him and search for a hiding place. These mountains are riddled with caves and I find one with a concealed entrance, where we can hide for at least tonight.
I manage to get him into it and collect ferns to make it a little more comfortable, then I can look at his wound and do my best to tend it. I carefully cut away his breeches, leaving him naked from the waist down.
Luckily, the bullet has passed cleanly through flesh, not breaking any bone and I don’t have to worry about getting the bullet out. I manage to clean it and tear up my shirt for bandages, making a joke to distract him from the pain. I curse myself for not bringing the brandy.
Finally I tell him to sleep, blow out the candles and curl around him, covering us with ferns as best as I can.
Richard sleeps, weak from pain and loss of blood, but I wake constantly, one ear always cocked for the sound of French pursuers outside the cave.
At dawn, I reluctantly slide away from Richard’s sleeping body and look out of the cave entrance. All seems quiet, so I go into the trees to pee.
I have to choose whether to head up the hill and see that our horses and gear are still there, or work my way back into the French camp and check on whether they are searching for us. Making my decision, I crawl back into the cave and rubbing my fingers in the soot from the candles, smear my face. I tear my French uniform and go towards the camp.
Arriving at the perimeter, even I am surprised at the devastation the two of us managed to cause. Most of the tents have been reduced to heaps of ash and they have taken as many casualties as if there had been a battle. They have not even set any piquets and the survivors are stumbling around, still dazed, some trying to tend the wounded, others sitting numb and shocked amid the blackened ruins.
I pick up a bucket of water I find nearby and mingle among them, as if I am on an errand of mercy, listening to snatches of conversation.
It seems that all the officers were killed in their mess tent and many men were killed or badly wounded in the big explosion, which was our parting shot. The horses were either killed or pulled themselves free of their tethers in panic and fled.
This company consists mainly of young and inexperienced soldiers and without orders, the survivors seem at a loss. It doesn’t seem that they sent men to find the culprits, who they suspect to have been the partisans.
“Those bastards will have ridden miles away from here by now,” says one Frenchman, with a bandage round his head and a livid burn down the side of his face and he spits.
“Water, over here,” shouts a woman camp-follower, who is tending to a row of wounded men, so I take my bucket over and hand it to her, then slip quietly away, smiling secretly to myself.
I find our clothes behind the rocks, where we left them and bundle them up, dropping them in at the cave on my way back. Richard is still sleeping.
Climbing back to the top of the hill, I find that our horses are still there and safe. I give them some attention, then collect our remaining provisions and the brandy and return.
This time, Richard wakes and rolls onto his back, dislodging the covering ferns and blinking at me.
“Well, I am glad to see that you are awake and standing to attention!”
“I’m not standing,” he says, slow to take my meaning, then when he does, he blushes and rolls his eyes at me.
I help him up and outside to piss and he shivers and curses at the biting wind around his arse.
Back in the cave I check and redress the wound and help him into his own uniform again. We eat some of our rations and I tell him what I learnt from the French.
“So that was not a bad night’s work, my friend. We got Le Triomphe for your Major Hogan, we struck a severe blow against the enemy and we survived. You truly are a lucky charm!”
“I got a bullet through me leg, in case you have forgotten!”
“A flesh wound only! You are strong and you will recover. What’s another scar to Richard Sharpe, among so many?”
As I speak, I slip my hand beneath his tunic and trace one of his many scars.
He shivers and leans in to kiss me, his hand gripping my inner thigh.
“I think it will be safer if we stay here until nightfall, Richard and move out once it gets dark. I brought the bedrolls and the brandy, but we need a way to amuse ourselves. Have you any ideas?”
Sharpe
Surprisingly enough I sleep rather well, only occasionally waking up from pain if I try to turn. In the morning, a narrow ray of light falling across my face from the entrance, I wake up and find myself alone. I assume Viggo has gone back up to fetch our provisions. My leg is throbbing, but luckily I don’t seem to have a fever. Viggo must have done a good job, despite the poor means he had to work with. I still feel weak though and fall asleep again.
I wake again, hearing Viggo. He’s carrying our belongings and he grins at me, making jokes even now, the bastard. He helps me outside so I can take a piss, and I curse when the wind almost freezes my naked arse.
Inside, Viggo tends the wound, and redresses the bandage. It feels good having my pants back on, as it is quite embarrassing to see my cock jerk every time his hands move over my body. Bloody thing seems to have a mind of its own.
We eat some of what’s left over from our provisions, and I am starting to feel better every minute.
Viggo is rather elated, telling me about the devastation we managed to bring to the French camp. Of course it’s amazing we did that, being just the two of us, and most of all succeeding in bringing Hogan’s mission to a good end is an achievement. He does seem to forget, though, that we’re not in safety yet, and I am wounded, which won’t make things any easier.
He’s not too worried though, and of course I’ve had more serious injuries than this. His hand slipping under my tunic, caressing my naked skin distracts me more than sufficiently, and I pull him into a hungry kiss.
I grin when he asks me for suggestions to enjoy ourselves here until nightfall. Holding on to his thigh, I drop my voice a little.
“Yesterday evening when we left I thought about buggering you for a change if we came out alive. I kept myself busy thinking how I could persuade you into it or how we could perhaps have a friendly struggle over it.”
His eyes widen, and he yelps when I pinch his inner leg, but then he grins too.
“Well, we did come out alive, so what is keeping you Richard? Must be that wounded leg I suppose.”
“I agree I am not up to buggering anyone right now,” I say, “but just keep it in mind Viggo, I tend to heal remarkably quickly. Anyway, for now, it does reduce our options.”
“There are more than enough options Richard, believe me. But let me get us more comfortable first.”
He reaches out for our bedrolls, spreading them out on the floor, patting them invitingly. The ferns weren’t too bad really, but the blankets still feel better. He kneels between my legs, leaning in to kiss me, carefully avoiding resting his weight on me.
“I am not that wounded,” I say arching up, longing for the pressure of his hand on my cock.
His nimble fingers working on the buttons of my tunic, he chuckles. “Patience, Major Sharpe, is a virtue,” and then his mouth is on one of my nipples as if I am a woman, but fuck, it feels good, and I moan helplessly.
He slowly works his mouth lower, dipping his tongue into my navel, his moustache tickling my skin. I buck up wildly forgetting about my leg, then biting back a cry of pain. He opens my breeches, his hand wriggling in until he cups my balls, and then licks a broad stripe over my cock.
No one but cheap whores in brothels, if I paid them enough, ever did that to me, and this feels so much better. His weight on my hip keeps me pinned down as his other hand grips my cock firmly, and he takes me into his mouth.
My hands fly down and tangle in his hair, keeping him there, right there. He works his tongue in the most wicked way and it makes me cry out shamelessly. His mouth slides down my cock, taking me in almost completely and then it’s too much. I try to warn him, but I am simply beyond speech and I come with a hoarse cry.
I fall back, fighting for breath and composure. I feel him crawl up to lie down beside me, and I have to force myself to open my eyes and look at him.
“I ... am sorry,” I stammer, “I didn’t mean to..,” but he interrupts me.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry about Richard, I wanted that,” he says and leans in to kiss me. For a moment I hesitate, not very eager to get a taste of myself, but then I kiss him back.
“That were great,” I say when he releases me, and let my hand slide down his body, to stroke his rock-hard erection. He moans, and arches up in my hand. I fumble with his breeches until he gets up and sheds them.
“Turn around,” I say, and he does so eagerly. I take his cock in my hand, feeling a bit taken aback, but fair is fair, so I close my eyes and take him into my mouth.
Viggo
I am relieved that Richard is not running a fever and have high hopes that we can lie low here for the day and set off back to his camp tonight.
He is very strong, with amazing powers of recovery, which must be how he has survived so many wounds. The countless scars marring his body tell their own story. Yet for all his scars he is beautiful and I wish that it were not so cold, so that I could undress him completely.
We joke about what we can do to amuse ourselves and he admits to his desire to turn the tables and take me. I let him know that I would not be averse to that suggestion, but we are both aware that right now, it is out of the question.
I make us more comfortable by spreading the bedrolls and then I start to explore our options, unbuttoning his tunic and indulging my urge to taste him by latching onto one of his nipples.
He reacts with surprised pleasure and I smile to myself as I think that this is something he has never done with Harper. I move on down nuzzling and licking until I reach his navel and he bucks up, causing him to cry out in pain.
Pinning his hips, I tease and swallow his cock, soon being rewarded by the gush of his hot seed and his guttural cry of pleasure.
When I crawl back up to look at him, he is blushing again and has his eyes squeezed tight shut. He makes an obvious effort to look at me and begins a hesitant apology, but I hush him, telling him that there is no need. I follow up by kissing him and letting him taste himself.
I am so hard that it is painful and I moan, when I feel his hand on me, then he is fighting to unfasten my breeches and I scramble to my feet to take them off.
He tells me huskily to turn round and as I do so, he sits up and grasps my cock firmly. I sink to my knees, eyes closed, expecting to receive relief from his hand, but my eyes snap open with surprise, as the wet heat of his mouth engulfs me.
All rational thoughts fly from my head, as I watch his bowed head and revel in the sensations he is invoking. He is clearly not experienced in this and a little clumsy, but he goes at it with enthusiasm and it doesn’t take long before I feel my balls tighten and I jerk away from him, roughly shouting a warning. I am just in time and my own seed spills on the ground.
Shaking, I lie down beside him and we hold each other, neither of us able to speak.
Eventually he asks me,
“Well? Not bad for a first time, eh?”
“Estupendo!”
“I’ve always been a quick learner!”
I chuckle, put my breeches back on and we share some brandy, then wrap ourselves in the blankets and curl up to sleep. This time, I sleep heavily.
When I wake, Richard is propped on one elbow, looking at me. I smile at him and pull him down to kiss him. When we finally break apart, he furrows his brow and asks me,
“Viggo, where did you learn these tricks? I mean, you like women and you told me you were married.”
“Oh I’ve been around. I do like women, but so do you. You have quite the reputation, my friend.”
He rolls onto his back and sighs.
“Aye, but I did love Teresa, you know. Only…”
“Tell me.”
He turns to face me and I stroke the back of my hand down his face.
“I did love her, but I was unfaithful. It was a woman I knew in the past and it meant nothing. But Teresa died saving her.”
He slumps down against me and I stroke his hair soothingly, as he begins to cry, his face pressed into my shoulder.
I rock him gently like a baby and finally he raises his head and I dry his tears with my bandana.
“No regrets, Richard. She loved you too and those she loved, she would forgive anything. When we were children, I once set her hair braids on fire, by accident of course, but she forgave me.”
He begins to laugh,
“Liar!”
“True, I promise you! We were trying to make our own fireworks for the fiesta. But I extinguished her by rolling her in the sand and after she punched me, she forgave me. Now, how is your leg?”
I check his wound and am happy to see that there is no sign of any inflammation. I re-bandage it, confident that we will be able to make good our escape tonight. He is still in pain, but he agrees that with my help, he will be able to make it to our horses.
As soon as it is dark, we leave the shelter of the cave and leaning on me heavily, Richard begins the journey up the steep hill. By the time we reach the horses, we are both sweating heavily, in spite of the cold and he leans, panting against Caballero, getting up the strength to mount.
I help him onto the horse, telling him that he’ll have to do better than that if he expects to mount me. In return I get a snort and a thump to my shoulder,
“Give me another day and I’ll be more than capable of getting me leg over you, you bastard.”
I smile as I get onto Hidalgo, pleased that the old, cocky Sharpe is back.
Sharpe
I am certainly not doing as well as Viggo did, but I try very hard, and judging by the sounds he makes, Viggo is enjoying it. I am glad he pulls out before I end up with a mouthful to be honest, I don’t think I am ready for that yet.
The brandy we share tastes good, and we both feel tired, so we decide to sleep for a few hours. This time I am awake before him, and I feel quite good. My leg is still hurting, but not too bad, and I am glad that will allow us to leave here. I don’t like the French being so close by.
I rest my head on my hand, and look at Viggo. His sleep is peaceful and quiet, and relaxed like this he seems very young, despite the rather aggressive looking moustache. These last few days have been good, despite my injury, but it’s all a bit scary too. This man – a practical stranger to me really – has made me do things I never did before.
He told me he was married, but the way he worked my body tells me he has had a lot of experience with men before too and I feel curious about that.
There’s also the fact that he was related to Teresa. If Teresa hadn’t died, he wouldn’t be in her place and I would have probably never even met him. But I can’t honestly be sorry that I did, so what does that make me? And if it wasn’t for me, Teresa wouldn’t have died in the first place. There’s a turmoil going around in my head, torn as I am between guilt and this feeling I have for Viggo.
The first thing he does when he wakes up is reach out to kiss me. We talk a little, and somehow I start to tell him about Teresa, and how I was unfaithful to her. Suddenly it’s too much and for the first time in years I really weep, hiding my face in the crook of his neck. I feel very much embarrassed, but he makes me smile again, telling me one of his tales. I never know whether to believe them or not.
He checks the wound on my thigh, which seems clean, and we agree on leaving as soon as it’s dark.
That evening we make our way up the hill, Viggo supporting my weight all along. It hurts like fuck and we’re both sweating when we finally reach the horses, but I am still glad we made it. I know I’ll live, and I am really quite lucky, because it could have been much worse.
Viggo helps me to get on the horse, Caballero, who seems genuinely pleased to see me, and I pat his neck. Of course Viggo has to make one of his dirty jokes again, but I feel confident enough to strike back at him.
Then we are off, and I shift until I find an almost pain free way to sit and still stay in the saddle. We ride almost all night, until we find an empty farmhouse, a finca, as Viggo calls it, and we decide to rest there. I am glad, because my leg is hurting very badly again, and I know I wouldn’t have lasted much longer. I am exhausted and it’s hard to dismount from the horse, even with Viggo’s help.
Viggo brings me into the house, and amazingly enough there’s a bed, with a mattress still on it. The owners must have fled to one of the villages for safety when the French came here. It’s pure bliss to slump down on the bed, and I fall asleep immediately, only vaguely aware of Viggo pulling off my boots.
I am woken up only once, by an owl hooting. I am a bit confused, but then I feel the tickle of Viggo’s warm breath on my neck. I smile and pull up the blankets he must have thrown over us earlier and fall asleep again.
When I wake up the next time I am alone again. I carefully move my leg, and even though it feels stiff, the pain is much less than yesterday. I manage to get up myself, aware of a delicious smell.
Picking up my rifle from the floor I lean on it and hobble my way towards that smell. I am starving, and my stomach rumbles.
Viggo smiles when I come into the kitchen. There’s not much there anymore, but he has managed to get the old wood stove burning, and something is simmering in a big black cast iron pot, spreading that smell that brings water to my mouth.
“What is it you’re cooking,” I ask, hobbling closer.
“Good morning to you too Richard,” he says, but he smiles. “I was lucky enough to shoot another rabbit earlier, though it was rather a skinny one, and I found some dried herbs and onions in the cellar, so I am making stew. It won’t be long now. I also found a small stream, so we have fresh water. Once we are eating I will heat some water and I can do a better job at cleaning your wound. We could also wash ourselves a little after that. So how are you feeling, how’s your leg?”
I smile back at him, damned grateful to be with him,
“Feeling better every minute. My leg isn’t too bad anymore, and I’ll probably be fit again in no time. I am starving though, so how long before that stew is ready?”
He looks in the pot, stirring the contents around a little with a piece of wood...
“Maybe another 30 minutes."
I grin and step in closer, reaching out for him.
“Not long enough for what I have planned. Let’s just wait and eat, and then I’ll fuck you.”
TBC
no subject
Date: 2008-03-08 03:47 pm (UTC)*HUGS*
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Date: 2008-03-09 12:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-09 03:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-08 03:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-09 12:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-08 07:36 pm (UTC)If that bullet had struck you only a bit higher, I would have been really sad Richard.”
His white teeth show as he smiles, and despite all I grin back.
“You bastard, is buggering me the only thing you can think about? “
I laughed out loud at that and then had to giggle at Viggo setting Teresa's braids on fire.
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Date: 2008-03-09 12:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-09 11:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-09 12:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-03-09 10:35 pm (UTC)And he's even overcoming the internal scars, bit by bit.
The Major and the Commandante work very well together ... !!!