Breaking to Mend
By Twist
A/n: Slash. If the thought of Dickens slash disturbs or disgusts you, go away. Again, SLASH. That should be enough warning. The reason? I wanted to. Herbert and Pip fit. And on a note:
I have NOT read all the way through Great Expectations. This story is accurate to my views up to chapter 47. It will probably need revised.
I have not written slash before, but I figured this is the pair to start with. Comments, criticism, psychological help, or whatever else you have to offer is completely welcome, as long as it isn't rude, ignorant or unconstructive. Thank you.
Disclaimer: It's all Dickens'. Go away, lawyers.
~
It was Christmas. I was looking out of the window, watching an old friend come up the walk. There was a knock on the door, and I went to answer it. I opened the door and there was the ever-cheerful face of Herbert.
"Hello, my dear Handel."
"Hello, Herbert. Clara." I gave Herbert's wife a polite kiss on the cheek.
"So, nice to see you again, Pip; it's been so long."
"Indeed it has."
Herbert and I proceeded into the sitting room, and Clara excused herself from our company to join Estella. We two friends sat, and gazed at the floor for some time. Finally, Herbert broke the silence.
"Glad to see you've found yourself somewhere nice, Pip."
I laughed, slightly nervous. Meeting old friends after a period out of contact is not pleasant in the least. "Thank you, Herbert."
Herbert glanced around the room, looked at his feet, and then spoke. "Listen, Pip, old chap, I feel as awkward as you do; we both know why and it's silly not to speak of it." Herbert gave me a hard stare, daring me to touch on the subject.
"It was not a silly thing that we did, Herbert. Not in the least." He nodded, and looked out of the window, watched the snow fall. "If our wives knew . . ."
"They needn't know, Handel. We agreed that the matter would be left to dust. And we parted ways. Now, brought back together, it seems that the matter cannot be left. It has . . . revived itself." I saw the look in Herbert's eye. He was the daring sort, wouldn't be hard for him to break the same rule twice. "Why leave it?"
"Our wives . . ." I managed to say. This was not how it was supposed to go. Herbert was the same Herbert; outgoing enough to be considered stupid.
"I've already said they needn't know." He crossed the room, and seated himself beside me, dark green coat settling into a pool around his hips. "There are plenty of rooms in this country."
"Herbert, this isn't right. It goes against nature," I was trying to keep away from him, but the attraction was far too much. He had charisma, God yes, and charm, and wit. That was why I'd always fallen so hard for him. And I was falling again. I could feel it.
"Handel, I do not see nature protesting. And like I said: Clara and Estella are merely . . . trivial." Oh, he'd grown in the past few years, hadn't he? He'd changed. It wasn't new like it was before. He had become smarter. Cleverer. And the eyes . . . "We both enjoyed it, Handel. You know that as well as I."
"It wasn't right," I said, but I could feel myself giving in. He could see it. He moved in closer. I didn't move.
"But sometimes, what is wrong isn't always bad." He grinned. "Isn't that right, Handel?" That grin. I hated that grin. I loved it, too, just like everything about Herbert. "Love is not easily ignored, Handel. I certainly tried to bury the matter myself but . . . Love is persistent as Hell, Handel."
"I know," I murmured, not taking my eyes off of his face. "You're the second, too." He grinned, taking the joke.
"Perhaps I should have waited. They always say the third time's the charm." His arm had slipped around my shoulders, and there was a silent agreement made: Love is persistent, and cannot be ignored. The more it is ignored, the more it hurts. We would no longer ignore.
"I don't think I should have liked that much, Herbert." Wicked grins between the two of us.
"Good."
And there it was: my first kiss with Herbert in years. It was warm, despite the cold room, but he reassured me; the soft pressure of his mouth against mine as comforting as that of a blanket to an infant. The smooth texture of his tongue came, and my lips parted without sorrow or complaint. I was quickly on my back, his hands on either side of my shoulders. He was straddling my hips, the pressure on either one holding the two of us on the loveseat*.
He had learned some in his years away from me, and the experience made me feel all the more like a novice as he played with his tongue. He pulled out of my mouth, and gave me a truly impish look.
"Out of practice, old boy?" He ducked back down again, licking the skin behind my ear. "We'll see if we can remedy that," he hissed.
I'm not sure how long he spent tutoring me in quite a different way than the way he had in the past, but every moment of it was ecstasy. The soft skin; gentle yet forceful lips. At one point my knees bent and secured themselves around his hips, provoking one of those funny little grins and a more vivacious round of the sweet stuff than before.
The whole time Herbert remained in control, taking the time every once and a while to lick and ear or my jawbone, but always keeping me in pleasure beyond any that Estella had ever offered.
It ended far too soon; he rocked back onto his knees, his groin resting on my feet. I was panting, but he seemed in perfect control. "Does that make things a little less awkward, Handel darling?"
"Yes, yes I think it does," I panted, grinning in my world of pleasure. "I should like to think that it doesn't end there, love."
"I wouldn't dream of it, but at the moment I believe a turkey and our spouses demand attention." We straightened our clothing, and made our hair lie flat.
The dinner went quite pleasantly, the awkwardness of before disintegrated with our previous conversation and activity. Herbert was a carefree yet pointedly polite throughout the meal, and we were careful to not let our wives suspect anything. They didn't.
Sometimes, you must break some things to re-forge others.
END
~
*No pun intended, thank you.
By Twist
A/n: Slash. If the thought of Dickens slash disturbs or disgusts you, go away. Again, SLASH. That should be enough warning. The reason? I wanted to. Herbert and Pip fit. And on a note:
I have NOT read all the way through Great Expectations. This story is accurate to my views up to chapter 47. It will probably need revised.
I have not written slash before, but I figured this is the pair to start with. Comments, criticism, psychological help, or whatever else you have to offer is completely welcome, as long as it isn't rude, ignorant or unconstructive. Thank you.
Disclaimer: It's all Dickens'. Go away, lawyers.
~
It was Christmas. I was looking out of the window, watching an old friend come up the walk. There was a knock on the door, and I went to answer it. I opened the door and there was the ever-cheerful face of Herbert.
"Hello, my dear Handel."
"Hello, Herbert. Clara." I gave Herbert's wife a polite kiss on the cheek.
"So, nice to see you again, Pip; it's been so long."
"Indeed it has."
Herbert and I proceeded into the sitting room, and Clara excused herself from our company to join Estella. We two friends sat, and gazed at the floor for some time. Finally, Herbert broke the silence.
"Glad to see you've found yourself somewhere nice, Pip."
I laughed, slightly nervous. Meeting old friends after a period out of contact is not pleasant in the least. "Thank you, Herbert."
Herbert glanced around the room, looked at his feet, and then spoke. "Listen, Pip, old chap, I feel as awkward as you do; we both know why and it's silly not to speak of it." Herbert gave me a hard stare, daring me to touch on the subject.
"It was not a silly thing that we did, Herbert. Not in the least." He nodded, and looked out of the window, watched the snow fall. "If our wives knew . . ."
"They needn't know, Handel. We agreed that the matter would be left to dust. And we parted ways. Now, brought back together, it seems that the matter cannot be left. It has . . . revived itself." I saw the look in Herbert's eye. He was the daring sort, wouldn't be hard for him to break the same rule twice. "Why leave it?"
"Our wives . . ." I managed to say. This was not how it was supposed to go. Herbert was the same Herbert; outgoing enough to be considered stupid.
"I've already said they needn't know." He crossed the room, and seated himself beside me, dark green coat settling into a pool around his hips. "There are plenty of rooms in this country."
"Herbert, this isn't right. It goes against nature," I was trying to keep away from him, but the attraction was far too much. He had charisma, God yes, and charm, and wit. That was why I'd always fallen so hard for him. And I was falling again. I could feel it.
"Handel, I do not see nature protesting. And like I said: Clara and Estella are merely . . . trivial." Oh, he'd grown in the past few years, hadn't he? He'd changed. It wasn't new like it was before. He had become smarter. Cleverer. And the eyes . . . "We both enjoyed it, Handel. You know that as well as I."
"It wasn't right," I said, but I could feel myself giving in. He could see it. He moved in closer. I didn't move.
"But sometimes, what is wrong isn't always bad." He grinned. "Isn't that right, Handel?" That grin. I hated that grin. I loved it, too, just like everything about Herbert. "Love is not easily ignored, Handel. I certainly tried to bury the matter myself but . . . Love is persistent as Hell, Handel."
"I know," I murmured, not taking my eyes off of his face. "You're the second, too." He grinned, taking the joke.
"Perhaps I should have waited. They always say the third time's the charm." His arm had slipped around my shoulders, and there was a silent agreement made: Love is persistent, and cannot be ignored. The more it is ignored, the more it hurts. We would no longer ignore.
"I don't think I should have liked that much, Herbert." Wicked grins between the two of us.
"Good."
And there it was: my first kiss with Herbert in years. It was warm, despite the cold room, but he reassured me; the soft pressure of his mouth against mine as comforting as that of a blanket to an infant. The smooth texture of his tongue came, and my lips parted without sorrow or complaint. I was quickly on my back, his hands on either side of my shoulders. He was straddling my hips, the pressure on either one holding the two of us on the loveseat*.
He had learned some in his years away from me, and the experience made me feel all the more like a novice as he played with his tongue. He pulled out of my mouth, and gave me a truly impish look.
"Out of practice, old boy?" He ducked back down again, licking the skin behind my ear. "We'll see if we can remedy that," he hissed.
I'm not sure how long he spent tutoring me in quite a different way than the way he had in the past, but every moment of it was ecstasy. The soft skin; gentle yet forceful lips. At one point my knees bent and secured themselves around his hips, provoking one of those funny little grins and a more vivacious round of the sweet stuff than before.
The whole time Herbert remained in control, taking the time every once and a while to lick and ear or my jawbone, but always keeping me in pleasure beyond any that Estella had ever offered.
It ended far too soon; he rocked back onto his knees, his groin resting on my feet. I was panting, but he seemed in perfect control. "Does that make things a little less awkward, Handel darling?"
"Yes, yes I think it does," I panted, grinning in my world of pleasure. "I should like to think that it doesn't end there, love."
"I wouldn't dream of it, but at the moment I believe a turkey and our spouses demand attention." We straightened our clothing, and made our hair lie flat.
The dinner went quite pleasantly, the awkwardness of before disintegrated with our previous conversation and activity. Herbert was a carefree yet pointedly polite throughout the meal, and we were careful to not let our wives suspect anything. They didn't.
Sometimes, you must break some things to re-forge others.
END
~
*No pun intended, thank you.