Haddock finds himself in a situation he never thought he'd be in.
Didn't think I had another hot and heavy 'oh my and whoo-hoo' in me, but apparently I did! Guess I just needed time to recover, that's all. First chapter's more sweet, but the second chapter…
Enjoy all my fellow lovers of smut…
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Captain Haddock made his way to his room, passing by Tintin's on the way. Peeking in he found the lad had apparently just dropped onto his bed and had instantly fallen asleep, worn out by the day's events. He hadn't even bothered to undress, just kicked his shoes off and lain down fully clothed on top of the blanket. Haddock shook his head and made his way over, the light from the hall giving him enough to see by.
He drew the covers over the exhausted youth and then stood there a moment, gazing down at his young friend. Stoking his chin for a moment, Haddock decided to sit on the edge of the bed - equally tired but not ready to go to his own room and sleep, not just yet – not when he had this most precious of opportunities.
Stretching out to lay on his side, he watched the boy sleep. He never grew tired of taking a visual inventory of the lad's softly beautiful features. When the youth was awake, Haddock somehow managed to keep his interest in the physical aspects of his young friend to himself, a feat he was quite proud of, since he wasn't a subtle man.
Starting his perusal at the top of the boy's head, Haddock couldn't help but chuckle at the tuft of ginger that proudly stood tall, the rest of the hair short - the red-gold strands circling the boyishly rounded skull.
Gently smiling, his eyes lingered on the slumbering face – eyelids softly drawn over those big, luminous grey eyes, the not overly long eyelashes (thank goodness – the boy was childlike enough without needing to look any more feminine) resting gently on rosy cheeks, the rest of the complexion a warm cream, a smattering of freckles scattered about. Haddock wished there was more light, he often thought of trying to count how many freckles there were.
Then there was that nose – whereas most of the population seemed to have huge honkers, the boy's was small and the tip was just the most adorable button ever. Practically begged to be kissed.
But if anything begged to be kissed, it was Tintin's mouth. Petite and perfectly formed, the moist lips were slightly parted – as if asking for a tongue to be slipped between them.
Haddock sighed. Oh how he wished, wished with all his might to reach a hand out and stroke that hair, caress those cheeks, run a finger down that nose, trace around those lips…
Kiss those lips, the nose, the eyelids, that face. That lovely, gorgeous face that as far as Haddock could tell, Tintin had no idea just how desirable it was. Good thing, too. If the boy had exhibited even one iota of sex appeal the Captain had a feeling he'd be beating lechers off left and right. Not to mention having an even harder time keeping his own hands to himself.
Shaking his head at his own folly, he felt his eyes closing. He'd lie there just a moment longer, then get up and go off to his own bed, sleep alone as he'd done for way too long.
Opening his eyes Haddock realized he'd fallen asleep. And as he started to move he realized something else – Tintin was now curled up against him, the ginger head buried against his chest, one arm flung over him. He could hear the slightly stronger breaths – not quite snores – as the boy slept deeply.
Loathe to move as one – it would mean disturbing the lad, and the boy really had a very strenuous day, they both had actually, and two – this was a once in a lifetime opportunity and Haddock wasn't going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Knowing he had a silly grin on his face, he lay there quietly, feeling Tintin's chest shift with each breath. Haddock pulled his lips into his mouth and vacillated for a long moment before finally giving in. Slowly, just in case the lad wasn't as far in dreamland as he suspected, Haddock moved his free hand and brought it around to cup the boy's head, relishing the sensation of that soft, lush hair against his work-hardened palm. Just as slowly he began to run his thumb up and down, every so often tightening the fingers of his hand a little.
Gaining a bit more confidence as Tintin's breathing hadn't altered nor had the lad shifted, Haddock began to rub his palm up and down as well, feeling the short hairs tickling against his skin. Oh, the curve of the boy's head fit so perfectly into the palm of his hand. Wondrous, just wondrous.
Bending his head down just a bit, he inhaled the scent of the boy – the lingering odor of the herbal shampoo the boy used mixed with the aroma that was exclusively Tintin.
Pursing his lips, Haddock hesitated a minute and then slowly, gradually moved his hand so his fingers could trace the boy's cheek. The warm skin was like silk. Soft as a baby's…
Stilling his hand as he realized the audacity of his movements, he once more thought of going to his own bed. Perhaps it would be best – this was too close to his dreams and he knew where they led. He shifted just a bit and then froze as Tintin gave a small 'mmmm' and then snuggled a bit closer, arm wrapping even tighter.
Eyes wide, Haddock lay there unmoving. Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. Great blasted thundering barnacles of blue typhoons. What in the name of his great-aunt's sea-cucumbers should he do now? On one hand this was the best thing that had ever happened to him – barring the fact of the boy's dropping into his life in the first place – and he had only fantasized about this amazing moment. On the other hand…Haddock had dreamed of this amazing moment turning into something else entirely. Of course, the boy was to be awake and fully cooperative.
Not sound asleep and unaware that he was cuddled up close to someone who he thought was a friend, a friend who wanted to be much, much more.
Haddock gulped as the lad shifted again, this time drawing a leg up and sliding it over him. Not good. Well, actually it was good, but just not in the way Haddock envisioned. Especially as Tintin's current posture was beginning to trigger a variety of physical manifestations. Manifestations Haddock might not be able to control.
Time to end it. If getting up caused the lad to wake, then Haddock would plead tiredness and apologize for falling asleep next to the lad, then hustle off to his bed before things became…noticeable.
Moving as slowly as he could, he began to extricate himself out from under the lad's embrace. He hadn't gone far when Tintin raised his head up and stared at him uncomprehendingly, the eyes half open.
Haddock stared back. He knew the boy was not awake enough to know what was going on, and if he left now, probably wouldn't remember the Captain had even been there.
But…the lad's face was right there, right in front of him, just a few inches away. The eyes heavy lidded with sleep, the slack mouth still slightly parted. That mouth, that lovely, desirable, cursed mouth…
Haddock always did have a tendency to give in to uncontrollable urges.
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