The chapter that started it all…

Seriously, there is one point in this chapter (not wanting to give it away right at the start), that got my muse amused and went from there. Subtle (or not) hint – Haddock's realization of the exact nature of Tintin's inadvertent activity.

This is going to be slow moving romance, as neither one has quite caught on to the fact that not only does each one want the other, but that they haven't realized it themselves!

All though I had indicated that the chapters are going back and forth between Haddock's and Tintin's viewpoints, this one is Haddock's again. The following chapters will return to the regularly scheduled program.

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Haddock woke, his mind swirling in confusion. He opened his eyes and gazed about, the dim room lit by the dying embers, banked for the evening in the small fireplace.

Oh yes, the cabin. He and Tintin had taken refuge there during the storm, a storm that had turned into a blizzard that had trapped them, dumping more than a foot of snow in the high mountain range, a snow that had been blown into drifts higher than either of them could see over, let alone travel through.

Soon after, a bone-numbing cold had swept down, freezing everything that wasn't protected, so cold that even with a fire roaring, frost still painted the furthest corners of the small hut.

Tintin had been sleeping on the small couch leaving the larger bed for the older man, but with some persuasion (very little – since the lad had been shivering even though double wrapped in blankets and sitting as close to the fire without actually setting himself ablaze) had agreed to share each other's body warmth.

For three nights they had snuggled close, Tintin spooned up behind the Captain, arms wrapped around and hands tucked in close. Haddock took great pleasure in receiving the warmth even from so slight a figure as the lad, and he was sure Tintin relished the heat given out by the large bear of a man.

Usually they both fell asleep rather rapidly, even though the day's were spent in relatively calm, almost boring repetition - get up, dress rapidly, stoke up the fire, eat breakfast from the remains of yesterday's meal, begin the preparations for that day's repast, one or the other going outside to chop wood (and even though it was bitterly cold, doing so actually brought more warmth than was felt all day), take turns gathering more snow to melt for water rations, then to curl up on couch (Tintin) or big leather armchair (Haddock) and try to read the small collection of books and magazines by light of fire and oil lamps , all while cocooning themselves in a multitude of blankets. Gentle conversation concerning the various topics of what was being read usually broke up the evening's monotony. Then it was bank the fire, throw all the blankets on the bed, strip rapidly and hop in, quickly arranging themselves so as to give and get maximum heat.

As Haddock lay there he became aware of what it was that had woken him. Tintin was moving in his sleep. At first he thought perhaps the lad was in the midst of a dream or even a nightmare, but the movements were…rhythmical. And seemed to be more from the lower region. In fact…

Haddock gasped as the exact nature of what was taking place struck him. He could feel a hard lump rubbing up and down against his thigh. He was also aware that the boy had flung a leg over him, and that the hands that were normally loosely tucked around and under him were now gripping him, the fingers flexing with the same rhythm. Small moans and mutters were emanating, clearly passionate in origin.

Trying to keep himself still, Haddock at first felt shock - shock that Tintin, TINTIN of all people, who had never given even an iota's perception of sexuality, actual had urges. The next moment he felt relief, thanking the lucky stars that the boy was human after all, he was beginning to speculate. And then a chill swept through him as he wondered…

Was the boy awake?

And if so, that meant the boy not only had urges, but had surrendered to them, was purposely and forthrightly humping the Captain's leg for all he was worth.

A moment later and Haddock's small but resourceful logical side actually slammed into gear. There was no way Tintin would ever allow his physical needs to take over his calm, rational and so even-keeled mind it was sometimes downright unnerving.

Which meant the boy was experiencing a wet-dream. Haddock almost chuckled at the thought and couldn't help but heave a small sigh of relief. Not only from the fact that Tintin was still Tintin, but also that once again, it proved the boy did have some human frailty. After all, the kid may be young, and certainly looked even younger, but he was still a red-blooded male in the prime.

Haddock relaxed a bit and even pressed his leg back against the boy, receiving a small moan in response. He felt Tintin's arms wrap even tighter and could feel the lad's short clipped nails dig into his flesh. His head was pressed against the Captain's broad back, and Haddock felt a slight frisson as Tintin's hot breath whispered against him, the surface cooling with each inhalation.

The boy was clearly reaching the end, as his once even tempo was beginning to waver, the thrusts stuttering, the moans replaced by heavy panting. Any moment and the lad would release.

And the next moment the boy woke with a gasp. Haddock felt his hands release him, grasping at the bed sheet. He could feel the boy stiffen in shock and alarm, yet unable to do anything as he was gripped securely in the throes of deepest passion, seconds away from blessed relief.

A deep grunt followed by a series of barely suppressed pants was heard, and Haddock could feel the boy's shaft twitching against his leg.

Followed by utter silence. The lad was holding himself so still, Haddock was surprised to feel him breathing. Haddock could certainly feel the boy's heartbeat, fast and furious from both his recent physical expenditure and his current predicament. For a long moment Tintin didn't move a muscle. Then the Captain heard a soft 'Mon Dieu' and had the unique experience of both smiling and wincing at the same time, for there was a lot conveyed in those two words. Shock, surprise, relief, awe, but most of all – embarrassment.

He was well aware that Tintin was afraid to move, afraid to change the status quo. He could very well understand the confusion and perhaps even horror of awakening to find oneself engaged in a very intimate act and realize it was both with and against somebody you had no intention of involving.

Haddock lay quietly, waiting for Tintin to make the first move. If the boy wanted to just roll over and forget this happened, so be it. If it came up in conversation later, then it would be dealt with then. He gave a moment's thought of letting the boy know that he was awake, reassure him that this recent event was not the worst thing in the world the boy may think it was, but wasn't sure if that was the best thing. If Tintin thought the Captain was asleep, fine. If Tintin wanted to know if Haddock was awake, then he'd ask. And if the boy wanted to pretend that Haddock was pretending to sleep, then that was all right, too. Let the boy have some shred of dignity.

Gradually, almost agonizingly glacially, the boy unwrapped arms from around Haddock's torso, lifted the leg that had been flung around the Captain's legs, and pulled away to roll over onto his back. Haddock heard the quick intake of breath and the slow exhalation as Tintin let out a sigh. And then heard just the smallest sound of dismay. Once again the Captain made a face somewhere between humor and shared consternation. He so wanted to turn, take the boy into his arms and soothe him, let him know everything was alright. But Tintin had never been one for being coddled, and certainly wasn't going to accept any signs of affection, especially after the nature of recent events.

And so Haddock just lay there, knowing the boy was in distress but unable to chose between letting the boy come to his own terms or just give in and let the boy know everything was alright.

It also didn't help that Haddock was still sporting his own arousal.

..