elmyraemilie (elmyraemilie) wrote in multi_fiction, @ 2008-07-17 21:50:00 |
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Current mood: | satisfied |
Story: Act I, Scene ii.v (Hamlet, Hamlet/Horatio, NC-17)
Written for smallfandomfest on LiveJournal.
Title: Act I, Scene ii.v
Author: elmyraemilie
Fandom: Shakespeare--Hamlet
Pairing/Characters: Hamlet/Horatio
Rating/Category: NC-17/slash
Prompt: Friends with benefits
Spoilers: (if applicable) The play is probably pretty well spoiled by the last 200 years of English Lit classes, but just in case, yes--there are spoilers.
Summary: Horatio finds a private moment with Hamlet
Notes/Warnings: William Shakespeare is doubtless so accustomed to spinning in his grave that this small, sad pastiche of his masterpiece will cause him no notice at all. Still, I apologize to him, just in case.
Hamlet fled to the quiet of his rooms.
It was too much. His uncle, or stepfather, or whatever he was (traitor, despoiler, thief of kingdoms) admonishing him to "leave off these nighted trappings." Black had scarcely touched the bastard's skin before he'd cast it off again. Hamlet's father, his kind, good, stern father, would be remembered honorably by someone in this madhouse, if only by his son.
Who was to be king of Denmark, after all? Oh, Prince Hamlet, surely, when he's come of age. So if the present king would not take the part of dignity, the future king would show him how it was done.
He poured water into his basin to wash some appearance of calm into his features. As he mopped his face dry, a knock turned him toward the door.
"My prince, may I enter?"
"Horatio!"
The living warmth of arms that held nothing more than friendship reminded Hamlet how alone he'd been.
"My lord, you are pale. Are you well?"
All Hamlet could manage was a nod. Horatio slipped an arm around his waist and steered him toward a fireside chair. "Here, now. Sit and gather yourself. You have a right to your shock. What a terrible thing this is!"
"Meaning what, Horatio? My father's death, my mother's untimely marriage, that she married my father's brother, that they refuse to mourn the best man who ever lived? Or that my father's peace is broken, and he's here, scaring the hell out of the night watch?" He could see in Horatio's face that the smile he attempted was no more than a grimace.
Kneeling at Hamlet's feet, Horatio took his hands. "All of it. All of it. I did not want to corner you with that horrible tale in the public room, but the guards would not leave off."
Hamlet peered into his face, his eyes brimming with misery. "It's true, then."
"It was your father, Hamlet, sure as I kneel before you. He looked as he did last year, in full regalia before the battle with the Poles."
"And his expression—was he angry? Composed? Don't say he was suffering, I couldn't bear it."
Horatio shook the hands still in his grasp. "No, no, no pain. Please, you torment yourself far more than any ghost could torment you. Stop it."
Hamlet turned his face away, but Horatio continued despite it. "I would say he was...looking for something, or someone. You know he was never one for smiles, though he was a kind man for all that. His face was somber, his brow furrowed, but there seemed to be no anger. It was the look of a man who cannot find something he needs."
"He wants me, doesn't he." It wasn't a question.
"I think so, yes." Standing, Horatio went to the pitcher and poured a cup of water. He pressed it into Hamlet's passive hands. "Drink, dear friend. Have you eaten? How thin you are! You'll be ill if you don't take care of yourself."
Hamlet sipped from the cup and sat it aside. "How can I eat? Bread tastes of ashes, and meat is nothing but carrion. Wine is vinegar. There is no pleasure in this life, Horatio. The joys I thought were mine were tiny, fragile things. Death has crushed them." He hunched over, worrying at the hem of his tunic. He watched his fingers twist the cloth, aware of the oddness of it. He had the sudden thought to bid Horatio goodbye.
Into the silence, Horatio spoke. "This is not the man your father wants to see."
Hamlet shook his head; it was no more than the truth.
"If it is your father, and if he is seeking a living agent, he needs Hamlet, his son. His brilliant, steadfast, loyal, brave son. Not the wreck of a man who's killing himself with mourning."
In his lap, Hamlet's hands grew still. A chill crept into his belly, and he looked up.
"What a shame that he would waste his return to this world on someone who was trying to leave it. Shall I tell him when I see him that you are far too full of grief to be of any use?"
Hamlet rose. His hands clenched themselves into fists. Horatio did not pause.
"God rest his soul, your father needs a champion now. I'd hate to have him see you in this state. The kingdom's gone to hell, and the Prince with it. It will be a bitter thing, but he must be told--"
"You will not speak to my father so! I am his son! I am the one who must take his part!" He charged forward. His shove toppled Horatio, and Hamlet kept moving until he stood over him. "You will not speak to him when it is me he seeks!" He dropped to his knees astride Horatio, who tried to rise, and pinned his wrists to the floor. "As long as there is blood in my veins, no one but me will speak to this ghost." He jerked Horatio's arms. "Do you understand?"
Beneath him, Horatio struggled. He pushed up against the wiry grip that pressed the fine bones of his hands against unforgiving stone. He arched his back, thrust up with his pelvis, and finally got his feet beneath him for leverage. The two of them rolled across the floor, maneuvering for advantage, until Horatio brought them to a stop by bracing a knee and an elbow against the side of the bed.
Hamlet reached up and grabbed at Horatio's hair. Their lips came together in a crashing kiss that owed more to warfare than to romance. With a wail that clawed its way out of his belly, Hamlet shoved his hands between them, snatching and yanking to unfasten their clothing. There was nothing Horatio could do but follow along behind, pushing aside the cloth as the laces tore free.
When skin touched skin, the fury in Hamlet blew out like a candle flame. He stared into Horatio's eyes as though he could read the future there and brought one shaking hand up to caress his face. "How I have longed for you. I didn't know how much."
"Here I am."
The next kiss bore a shadow of the tenderness they had kept between them. Hamlet rocked up against him, rubbed his back beneath his loose shirt, nipped at his ears and his chin. The feel of Horatio's cock against his overtook all rational thought. Horatio braced up on his elbows, the better to move their hips together.
From one moment to the next, thought stopped and feeling began. The desperate need was back, but passion drove it now. They rocked and rocked together, silent but for harsh breaths and the sounds of their kisses. Hamlet pulled away to gasp; Horatio bent his head to brush his lips across the soft skin of his vulnerable neck. In answer, Hamlet's arms wound around his back to pull them tighter together.
"God..." The whisper was hoarse with lust. Hamlet shook his head back and forth and slid his hands down, burrowing beneath fabric to grab Horatio's buttocks. He arched up, his heart leaping in his chest, and found a space of exposed skin. He sank his teeth in and sucked hard.
With a shout, Horatio fastened a hand in his hair and with the other claimed a bruising grip on his arm. Fire leapt up between them and they rolled again, Hamlet above now, biting, scoring Horatio's skin with his nails. Horatio reached down to pull their cocks together with a calloused hand, jerking roughly. Their movement was frantic, wild; the kiss that Hamlet thrust upon Horatio's lips drew blood, and with a cry, Horatio was thrown forward into bliss. Still, he kept up his stroke until, with a hiss and a sigh, Hamlet found his way as well. He pushed against the restraining hand until his ardor was spent.
They lay that way for a moment, the rug rumpled beneath their legs, their clothing half on and half off. Hamlet rolled to the side with a groan.
"There, old man. Are you all right?"
Never again, he wanted to say, but the darkness was held at bay for the moment. "I am as well as I have been these many months. It's all...what is it in that play, troubles come not as single spies but in battalions? A whole army of them has besieged me."
"But you are equal to the defense. I have every faith." Sitting up, Horatio extended a hand to his friend and drew him up to rest against the bed. They began to pull their clothing to rights.
"Will you come tonight? To see this ghost?"
"Wherever you wish me to go, I will go. You know it."
"It is time for the living to meet the dead, Horatio. I can think of no better man to have beside me."
"I am your man, Prince Hamlet."
Hamlet leaned over and kissed him, full of solemn affection. "And I yours, dear friend. And I yours."
XOXOX
Enter Hamlet, and wash at the basin. A knock at the door. Enter Horatio.
Horatio: My prince, may I enter?
Hamlet: Horatio! [They embrace.]
Horatio: My lord, you are pale. Are you well?
Hamlet: You need not ask.
Horatio: Here, now. Sit and gather yourself. Your grief has laid you low. How terrible are these events!
Hamlet: Which? My father's death, my mother's untimely marriage? That she married my father's brother? That the rites of mourning are denied the man who most rightly deserves them? Or that my dead father breaks the peace of heaven to send alarms through the night watch?
Horatio: All of it. All of it. I would have forborn to tell the tale in such a public place, but the guards would not leave off.
Hamlet: Your witness shows this bitter tale as truth.
Horatio: It was your father, Hamlet, as I kneel before you. He looked as he did last year, in full armor before the battle with the Poles.
Hamlet: And his expression? Was he angry? Composed? If he was suffering, do not say—I could not bear the thought.
Horatio: No, no, no pain. You torment yourself far more than any ghost could torment you. For my sake if not your own, do not let these thoughts have strength. His actions were like a man who searched for some relinquished prize. His face was somber, his brow furrowed, though anger was there none. He looked about him, made as though to speak, but gave no word. There is something in this world which he has need of.
Hamlet: He seeks a worldly weapon in his son.
Horatio: I think so, yes. [He pours a cup of water and offers it to Hamlet.] Drink, dear friend. You must take food and drink, lest your health desert you.
Hamlet: Bread tastes of ashes, and meat is carrion. There is no pleasure in this life, Horatio. The joys I thought were mine were merely fragile. Death has crushed them.
Horatio: This is not the man your father wants to see.
Hamlet: You cannot know.
Horatio [crosses to the bed]: If it is your father, he is seeking a living agent. He needs Hamlet, his son. Hamlet he knows to be brilliant, steadfast, loyal, brave. No wreck of a man who's killing himself with mourning will be equal to his needs. For shame that he would waste his return to this world on you who are bent to leave it. Shall I tell him when I see him that your grief has made you weak? God rest his soul that he would see you in this state. The kingdom's gone to hell, and the Prince with it. He must find some other to give him aid.
Hamlet: You will not speak to my father so! I am his son! I am the one who must take his part! [He charges forward and bears Horatio to the floor.] You will not speak to him when it is me he seeks! As long as his blood runs in my veins, no other but me will speak to this ghost.
[curtain]