Listen to Classical Gas by Mason Williams - it sets the mood.

If you fell out of the ether into the path of a Romantic hero from 1827 you might want a bit of romance... here it is. Enjoy.

Hindley kept kissing Francis, and then held him close. Inside he knew such feelings had to be wrong but this man was special, he wasn't sinful, he was a gentle and lost soul who needed him in those moments. He questioned his upbringing. Had everything he'd been taught about love and live and relationships been completely wrong? Was it possible to love a man after all? Francis held on to him, still feeling very upset but comforted by his kisses and the way he was holding him. Arthur never held him like that, close to his chest, comforting him. Hindley was so different, so deep, and he seemed to care more about Francis' feelings than Arthur ever did. Even so he missed him so much, and Hindley was being so nice about everything, he just couldn't let go.

"You know… that was the first time I have ever kissed another man…" Hindley whispered. "I think everything I have been told was a lie. It is beautiful to kiss you…" He murmured. Francis buried his face Hindley's chest, just needing that comfort some more. Hindley had never opened up to anyone nor did he actually know how to comfort someone, but he tried his best, gently and tentatively stroking the Frenchman's silky hair, wondering if he was doing it right.

The sky turned dark and it began to rain heavily, being a typical British spring. They had no idea how long they sat in the summerhouse together, just being with one another.

"I know I'm not… him… your Arthur…" Hindley said "But… maybe… I could mean… something to you…"

Eventually Francis felt like he could speak again. Those moments with Hindley were so enchanting that he felt a little dumbstruck and just listened to what he was saying. "I think you could mean a lot…to me…" He replied.

Hindley was still a little clueless, and even felt very emotional, but he had never cried in front of anyone and wasn't going to start now, he just blinked and tried to control it, after all that's what he had been taught to do. Always cry on your own, never in anyone's presence, no matter what the circumstances.

Eventually, and because it was raining so hard, they decided it would be best to go inside and talk. Hindley helped Francis to his feet and put his arm around him as they walked back to the house. When they got there, Hindley took him into the lounge and locked the door. It was one thing for him to want to be with Francis but no one else should ever see them, not even the servants. There was a fire burning in the hearth and it was quite cosy.

"Here, sit down…" Hindley gestured to the small sofa in the room. "There are things we need to talk about…"

Francis did as he was told and sat down on the sofa, he wasn't upset anymore, he was feeling something different now, something deep, and all consuming.

"You're such a beautiful man Francis…" Hindley continued "If only you could comprehend how I see you…"

"I'll never get back to my time will I Arthur?" Francis sort of asked but it was more of an affirmation.

"Your Arthur might have been a genius…" Hindley replied "But I am a mere musician, I don't know anything about mathematics and formulas and… I'd never be able to construct a… machine…" he said "It would seem you are trapped here." He said "I don't believe there is a way for you to return."

"Then I have to forget about him…" Francis uttered. His face crumpled and he tried to suppress the emotion that caused it.

"Hush…" Came Hindley's deep comforting voice "I'm here." He said… "Your grief is deep, and… like a bereavement…" He uttered, still wondering if he was helping him any. "I lost my wife seven years ago, and that pain was terrible."

"Your wife? The mother of your son?" Francis asked, trying to think of something else other than his predicament and the thought that he would never see his Arthur again.

"Her name was Alice… we'd been promised to one another since we were four years old." Hindley said, as he looked to the floor and sighed. He went over to the drinks cabinet and poured two glasses of wine, he handed one to Francis and stood by the fire, his hand on the lintel gazing into the flames. "She died giving birth to him." He uttered. "I have loved no one ever since… I… haven't been able to."

Hindley drank his wine and paused for a few moments. Still he obeyed the rules of his upbringing, never to cry in front of anyone, ever, though it was hard. Francis saw it though, that even though he shed no tears, he was crying inside. His grief was deep too, the loss of his wife must have hurt him so much. Hindley really understood him, because he'd been through it too, in a different way, but it was still a loss.

"Your son… how old is he?"

"Young Arthur will be seven years old in a few weeks." Hindley replied with a smile. "He knows nothing of who and what he will become when he is older." He said with fondness in his voice. "You don't have a child do you Francis?"

"No…" He replied "But… I always wanted one…"

Hindley thought for a moment and drank his wine. "I shall have to introduce you to him. He is away at the moment with friends. When he returns you must get to know him."

"I would like that very much." Francis replied. "I hope he will like me."

"I'm sure he will." Hindley replied as he finished his wine. "Do you mind if I...? " He began as he sat next to Francis on the sofa. He stroked his face, cupping his cheek gently before kissing him once more. Mesmerised, Francis responded, making little moans as Hindley kissed him. This was pure, this was genuine, and it meant a great deal to Francis, to know he cared. The rain fell like the end of the world happening outside, and all they could hear was the crackling of the fire in the hearth. The soft light reflected in Hindley's eyes, as he gazed at the Frenchman with such dark intensity. This man was strong and calm, as if he was on fire on the inside, yet on the outside, tranquil and serene. Francis couldn't help but feel his body move in a very sensual way, as Hindley touched him, caressed him, and held him. It was very noticeable, and there was nothing he could do about it. The Englishman pulled back and glanced down to him and back to his eyes. No words were spoken but Francis felt Hindley touch him, ever so softly between his legs, just being extremely gentle. In truth Hindley felt that Francis might break like glass, and so he handled him with care. Francis groaned a little, and moved so that Hindley could gain more access to him. Feeling brave, Hindley slipped his hand down the front of Francis' britches still being gentle, and not really sure if he was doing it right, but trying his best. He didn't speak, he just leaned in and kissed him deeply, giving him pleasure, and feeling encouraged by his moans of passion. His heart beat faster as he Francis' breathing became more erratic, as his body writhed under his touch. This was fascinating. He'd never seen this reaction before, it was quite a turn on, it was exciting, it was passionate. Suddenly Francis' body tensed up and he grabbed Hindley's shoulder, he knew what was happening, and pleasured him even more till he felt that sweet release on his fingers.

"Arthur…" gasped Francis, as he clung to him, shaking.

"You beautiful creature…." Hissed Hindley as he kissed him softly on his trembling lips.