Disclaimer: Blackwood and Coward are property of loads of Hollywood people who can give their movie sequels rather juvenile names, but are unable to give Coward a first name... Anyway, they make loads of money off their movies, etc, whilst I make nothing off this fic.
My first straight-up Blackwood/Coward fic (I kinda converted myself to the pairing when writing them as a side to Blackwood/Holmes). It was written for an LJ prompt asking for Blackwood whispering evil plotting-type sweet nothings during "hot, tender villain sex." Set well before the movie (before Blackwood's plan took over his life).
"You certainly took your time, Coward." Blackwood's voice greeted his lover in a deceptively lazy drawl. Coward, however, well attuned to the dark-haired man's moods, heard the dangerous edge of impatience there – and thrilled at it.
"A thousand apologies, my lord. I did not expect you back quite so soon," he excused himself as he strode over to the bed where Blackwood lay reclining, dressed only in his shirt and trousers. Coward's eyes traced the older man's form, head to toe, nearly. The soft, respectful tone of his voice – completely free of his usual hauteur – was already smoothing the frown from those bold, aristocratic features. Tantalizing glimpses of skin peeped from the open collar of a fine white shirt. Coward felt his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed and moved his gaze lower over that broad yet elegant chest and torso to those strong hips and legs and the heat he knew lay between them. He swallowed again, feeling an answering heat rise high on his cheekbones and flutter deep in his belly. A warm, seductive chuckle caused that flush to spread and move lower and brought his eyes back to Blackwood's face. A smile of pure invitation now curved the dark man's lips and Coward felt his knees tremble slightly. He might have dropped down to them in a show of devotion had not his lord's hand beckoned him closer.
Steps unwontedly unsteady, the younger man moved to the bedside and, when Blackwood's smile widened, revealing that one slanted tooth, Coward could not stop himself from dropping down over him, straddling his hips as his mouth moved in to cover that smile. As a delightful buzzing filled his head and hummed down every nerve of his body, Coward's tongue darted out to trace the shape of that tooth. "Henry," he breathed, withdrawing slightly, as his lover's hands gripped his hips, pressing the cool silken fabric of his dressing gown against his over-warm flesh. He might have been ashamed of how breathlessly needy his own voice already sounded – except for the way that tone made the body beneath him shiver.
Henry. This time, the name went unvoiced as Blackwood raised his head to resume their kiss. At the first gentle probing of the other man's tongue, Coward parted his lips and pressed his mouth more firmly against Blackwood's. Henry. As that sensual tongue caressed his own – not violent, yet possessive all the same – a moan vibrated in their kiss and Coward's hips rocked, brushing the growing hardness in his groin against the man beneath him.
"Mm," Blackwood hummed in pleasure as their lips parted and his hands moved in small, slow circles on Coward's hips. The sensation, coupled with the heat in the lord's gaze as he him lick their mingled saliva from his lips, made Coward's hips rock again. "Rather indecorous, don't you think?" There was a husky catch in Blackwood's voice as he slid his hands inward along the younger man's abdomen, then back out. "Nothing but a dressing gown?" Coward barely heard the question as he sat up and thrust his hips harder, brushing his naked arousal against the steadily growing heat and solidity beneath it. "What if one of the servants had seen? Gotten ideas above his station?"
"You'd have my complete permission to show him exactly to whom I belong." He smiled at the soft, contented growl his words – and his fingers working at the fastenings of Blackwood's trousers – drew from the other man. "Before or after you kill him." The sound Blackwood made then, as Coward released his arousal from its woven confines, was much closer to a purr. It sent ecstatic tingles of excitement dancing up and down the younger lord's back as bent down to join their lips again, briefly.
"I wish I could have shown those puffed-up, pompous relics who kept you away from me all day just who you belong to," Blackwood whispered when their lips parted again. "That thought – and our plans – are all that got me through more endless hours with those dried-up buzzards in the inner circle."
"Fornication and world domination?" Coward tried to put a teasing tone in his voice. In reality his head was spinning, caught in a heady whirl of lust and sheer boyish delight that his lord thought of him when they were apart.
"They're not so very different," Blackwood observed softly, hands going to the ties of Coward's robe. "You rid yourself of a hindrance here..." He unknotted the sash and pulled it slowly free as Coward shivered at the subtle caress of the sliding fabric. "Remove an obstacle there..." He slid his hands into the now open front of the dressing gown, resting them on Coward's exposed abdomen. "Then you conquer: first England..." His thumbs stroked languid circles around the younger lord's navel. "Then across the Atlantic," those teasing hands glided upward, "to recapture the American colonies..." He ran the pads of each of his fingers over Coward's nipples before pinching one between thumb and forefinger. The younger man moaned again at the pleasantly painful sensation, hips jutting against his lover, bringing their heated flesh into wonderful contact. "Country by country," Blackwood's voice was rougher as he continued, hands moving around to Coward's back, "until finally," long, intoxicating stroke down his back, "the world is trembling at our mercy..."
"Mm... Henry..." Coward was trembling at his mercy as those strong, deliciously warm hands cupped his buttocks, assisting the younger lord in his now wanton rutting. He couldn't stop that motion any more than he could halt the catlike kneading of his fingers into his lover's torso.
"And then..." Blackwood's words and Coward's vision were obscured by a sultry fog of desire. He did register, however, when one of those hands left his flesh. His mew of displeasure was cut short when the hand – and some cool glass object it held – came to brush his own. He looked down and blinked his eyes clearer to see a small bottle of oil. Reflexively, he turned his hand over and cupped his palm to receive a small portion, then watched, lips parted, as Blackwood deftly turned the bottle to wet his own fingers before returning it to the bedside table. "And then," Blackwood repeated, hips thrusting up to remind Coward what he was supposed to be doing with the oil in his hand. The smaller man complied, running his now slick fingers reverently down the length of Blackwood's shaft, feeling an answering twitch in his own loins as it grew larger and firmer still in his grip. "When every last republic and princedom lay in the palm of my hand..." Blackwood returned his hand to Coward's backside, leaving a thin trail of oil to glisten along his hipbone. He used the hand that was already there to gently part Coward's cheeks. "When every last shred of resistance is sought out...and eliminated..." A hot, slick finger slid into Coward, making him cry out softly and drawing an answering grunt from Blackwood as Coward's hand jerked almost convulsively. The older man's whisper became rougher, almost inarticulate, as his motions and words continued, "And when every would-be ruler of every nation is groveling at my feet..." His questing finger found that one spot inside Coward and began stroking it in time with his heated words. Each tantalizing brush of that digit sent shockwaves of pleasure through Coward, tightening his hand on Blackwood's arousal and making his own drip in agonizing anticipation. "Then..." The finger withdrew.
"Henry, please," Coward did not stop the whine that escaped his lips at the loss. He did not care that a soft whimper of frustration escaped him as Blackwood shifted under him, sliding back on the bed to sit upright, legs crossed in front of him.
"Yes, my love," he crooned as his hands shifted Coward, drawing him closer, pulling him higher over him, and urging his legs around him. His words sent a giddy rush of pure, ecstatic joy through the younger man. "Yes," he breathed again as he held Coward over him, the wet tip of his shaft brushing against Coward's entrance. "And then, when I sit enthroned, supreme ruler of the known world, you–" His voice cut off in a mutual groan as, at a gesture from Blackwood, Coward relaxed the muscles of his arms and legs and allowed the other man to guide him slowly down onto his arousal. "You, my love..." Coward's whole body trembled with the thrill of both that repeated endearment and the indescribable bliss of Blackwood filling him – that incomparable mix of pain and pleasure, possessing and being possessed. "You will... take your place... at my side..." Blackwood breathed the words, punctuating them with soft kisses to Coward's ear, jawbone, and chin. "As my consort." With those last words, his lips moved to his lover's and a hand went to stroke the heated flesh that was pressed between them.
The promise, the kiss, the caress... The last tension melted from Coward's body and he felt Blackwood slide deeper into him. Consort... The word exploded in his mind with a hundred little lights as Blackwood started moving inside him: tiny thrusts that brushed again and again against his most sensitive spot. "Your consort..." he managed to echo aloud, struggling to focus lust-hazed eyes on his lover.
"Yes." Those dark eyes were ablaze with passion and some other fire, warm and soft. Coward's lips moved, as if of their own volition, to meet Blackwood's. At the Blackwood's gentle but insistent signal, he started rocking his hips in counterpoint to the other man's small thrusts, increasing the length of his stroke... driving him more strongly against Coward's prostate. All of existence narrowed to the heat within and without, the electric currents coursing through their joined bodies, the brush of silk against their skin, the smell of their sweat mingling, the taste of their twined tongues, the sound of their ragged respiration and racing pulses...
"No one," Blackwood grunted when Coward, breathless, broke the kiss. "No one will stand in our way," he vowed, voice harsh like the growl of an animal. The motion of his hips under Coward, the pumping of his hand on his shaft, sped up, lost control as he continued, "We'll couple... just like this... in the throne room of Buckingham Palace..." Coward could not consciously understand the words at that moment – just the fervor of their promise. "And everyone will know..." Closer and closer his lover's words and movement brought him. "That you... You are mine."
"Henry!" The name spilled from his lips in a breathless cry as all the heat and passion that had been stoked inside him found its release, spending itself in Blackwood's hand and in the friction between them.
"And I... I–" The rest was strangled off in a low, inarticulate moan. Distantly, through the waves of his own climax, Coward felt Blackwood's shaft quiver inside him – felt the liquid heat of his release deep inside. He felt himself drawn against his lover's chest as the other man leaned back on the lumped pillows and oak headboard, his dressing gown covering them both.
And not at all distantly, he heard Blackwood whisper in his ear, just before he fell into blissful, sated slumber.
"I am yours."
If you are interested in the story mentioned in the forenotes, it's on my journal (which is linked on my profile - just click one of the Blackwood tags). It's not here because Blackwood has sports some rather naughty tentacles in it.