Cornelius Hickey (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
spotsalone) wrote2025-04-11 07:04 pm
spotsalone) wrote2025-04-11 07:04 pm
Entry tags:
angelo and the hickster's post-belle arctic adventures
angelo cr chart
mutineers cr chart...
timeline:
- arrival; late july, mutineers' hill
- tent chats; early august, temporary camp
- spotting the ships; late august, terror camp
- tuunbaq attack; sept 1, ice floe camp
- boarding terror; fellas it's gay; early sept, hms terror
- dog to dog communication; early sept, forecastle
- bark bark bark; early sept, on deck
- coat! and post-tozer debrief; early sept, angelo's cabin
- 🌶️; early sept, hickey's cabin
- the dogs are unionizing(?); mid sept, cargo hold
- tozer/captain stuff, look at them having an adult conversation; mid sept, greatroom
- little rescue mission; early oct, terror bay
- post-little debrief; early oct, hickey's cabin
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He shouldn't. The muffled moans, Elias breathed into his skin, Angelo's pelvis canting up to meet his— What an intoxicating picture. They haven't had much luck communicating through words, and now, they finally understand each other.
Angelo breaks just as Elias starts to feel his own crescendo building. There's a moment when he thinks he'll be able to hang on a little bit longer, but then Angelo jerks in his hand and throbs around his cock and it's too much, it's too much— ]
Fuck... Ah, Angelo—
[ He grabs for Angelo's thigh as he drives in desperately, spending hard inside of him in hot, heavy pulses. He stifles a groan, burying his face in Angelo's hair as he claims him. His. His grip on Angelo's leg is tight enough to hurt.
He thrusts lazily once, twice more as his orgasm quells, exhausted yet not quite ready to be finished. It's all he can do to lower himself gently onto Angelo rather than collapsing entirely, lungs heaving, skin flushed and damp with sweat. Angelo's cum is striped across both their chests, and God does Elias love the feel of it, both of them a mess from one another.
Will Angelo find this disgusting too, he wonders? There's an inherent sloppiness to sex, one that Elias enjoys as part of the fun. Sex is not meant to be a pristine, sterile thing. He suspects they will disagree on this point, but he doesn't care. He'll clean them both up in a minute. Maybe two.
First, he's going to drink in the afterglow. He shifts just enough to position them for comfort over utility, though he doesn't pull out just yet. ]
...You smell nice.
[ The first words to leave his mouth without his permission in who knows how long. His voice is soft and absent, like he's barely registered he's said anything at all. ]
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Angelo's fingers, which had been tightly digging into Elias' shoulder blades, finally relax and his hands drop down to rest on the small of Elias' back instead. His skin is still burning up with residual heat from their union, their consummation, their--
You smell nice.
There's a little laugh from Angelo, startled and shaky. His voice is quiet, a little dreamy. ]
...now of all times to say this...?
[ All his efforts with soap and perfume must surely be washed away by the sweaty sheen covering his body, leaving him like any other body. Just meat, just flesh, just--
-- it felt good.
His mind is a jumble, but the finished thought cuts through him like a clear ring from a bell through white noise. It felt good. For the first time in his life, he'd been craving more rather than merely lying back and waiting until it was all over. With Elias inside him, he'd been desperate for it, to have him deeper and harder, pressing up against all the most sensitive parts of himself. A feeling he could not have imagined for himself, that didn't factor even into his most private fantasies. Wanting. ]
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So critical.
[ It's a joke, and although he's tempted to take it one step further and poke fun at how Angelo was just practically begging to be fucked, he knows better.
He's reluctant to untangle their limbs just yet, but if he lets himself melt too much, he'd be more than content to fall asleep like this. With a slight grumble, he extracts his arm from under Angelo and reaches over the side of the bed. He paws blindly for a moment before finding the topmost drawer there, where he had the forethought to stash some essentials earlier in the day.
He kisses Angelo's cheek and then lazily lifts himself up, back to his knees, so he can wipe away the mess with a washcloth nicked from the sick bay. ]
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The thought doesn't continue, because regarding this as 'filth' like he used to suddenly feels wrong. It's not filth, it's not clean, it's just... It's cum, nothing more or less. Maybe it really is that simple. So why does trying to wrap his mind around it threaten to make him feel sick?
It's good that Elias is already on the case to try and clean them up a little, which Angelo lets happen without really moving. He's worn out, physically, and his mind feels as though it's been wrapped in cotton. Angelo watches him with a dazed expression, and his vision feels blurred. It takes a second until he realizes that it's tears filling his eyes. ]
... are you always so well-prepared...?
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He's half a second late in conjuring up some quip at being asked about sleeping with others, his mind still waking up again. It works in his favor, though. When he glances up, his grin falters. Something is wrong.
He freezes, unsure of how to interpret the tears, but he does reach for Angelo's hand. ]
Are you alright?
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I don't...
[ It had felt so warm to be with Elias. He'd felt so complete, wrapped up in another person. Swallowed up and consumed, yet not diminished. This whole time, this whole entire time, that capacity had still rested within him. ]
I am alright, so why...
[ He grips Elias' hand tightly, as if he's holding onto him yet again. ]
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So...? What is this? ]
It has... been a tiring day.
[ Loathe as he is to remind either of them of their earlier argument, perhaps that is the cause. Relief can bring about tears, can't it? Or exhaustion? They've fought twice now in quick succession over something important to Angelo, something raw that clearly still eats at him. And obviously his relationship to sex has been a fraught one, but Elias doesn't see why he should be upset over that given this experience has been a good one.
He thinks, anyway. Under no circumstances will be be so pathetic as to ask if Angelo enjoyed himself, but he must have, right?
At a loss for what else to do, he tosses the washcloth to the floor. Then, he pulls up a blanket from the foot of the bed and nudges Angelo over a little so they can settle in together under it. ]
Come here.
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And yet Angelo is glad to slot his shamefully naked body right against Elias', seeking to prolong the feeling of togetherness that has bloomed between them. The tears continue falling and there is no amount of stubbornness that seems to want to stop them, so Angelo surrenders himself. ]
... I thought my body had long forgotten how to feel this way.
[ A quiet admission as he wraps his arm around Elias' waist and intertwines their legs. It is followed by a small strangled sob. His body really is a traitor. ]
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Forgotten how to feel this way... It makes sense and it doesn't, and his attempts to wrap his head around the sentiment are hindered by the fogginess in his own mind. ]
Well, I'm glad it hasn't.
[ How horrible it would be for his bliss to be one-sided. He'd said he didn't want to enjoy this at Angelo's expense, and he meant it. He trails his hand over Angelo's back. ]
That's a good thing, isn't it? You said you wanted to forget. Now you can, with time. Overwrite them all.
[ It won't be so simple. Even he knows that, but maybe if he pretends it will be... His confidence has rubbed off on Angelo before. ]
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You'd like that, wouldn't you? Overwrite every single of those times, one by one?
[ He tilts his head so he can press a kiss to Elias' lips, chaste and soft. There's a shaky smile playing at his lips - the teasing would come across better if his face wasn't still wet with tears, but there's nothing he can do about that right now. ]
You have your work cut out for you.
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I'm not worried. I've faced far more insurmountable challenges and come out ahead.
[ Far more unpleasant challenges, as well. The ask is hardly anything that he wouldn't already do, and happily.
Elias cups Angelo's cheek in his hand, brushing away tears with his thumb. He still doesn't quite understand them and no longer wants to, so he's removing them from the equation. ]
Stay here tonight. With me.
[ A very bad idea, but he doesn't care. They can get away with it once. ]
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I will.
[ The offer is a relief, a solution for a problem he hadn't wholly thought about facing yet. But the thought of going back to his own cabin, smelling of sweat and sex and aching from underprepared penetration... It makes him shudder. He'd much rather remain right here, Elias' arms wrapped tightly around him. As long as Elias is here, to look at him like he's precious...
He'll be able to forget the way his face looked earlier today, the hurt in his eyes, the horrifying gulf opening up between.
Angelo runs his hand along Elias' upper arm, just enjoying the feeling of skin on skin for nothing but its own sake. He hadn't thought it pleasant before, so it's new to explore. ]
... this is what it's all meant to feel like, isn't it?
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But a similar sentiment had been lurking in Elias' head already, simmering just under the surface of conscious thought. This is what he wants all of this to feel like. It's what he wanted the first night they kissed, and again today instead of arguing over the Captain. He wants this easy yet all-encompassing affection, for both of them to be lost in each other, thinking of nothing but themselves.
He wants to feel like Angelo loves him, even after knowing so much of who he is. Elias has revealed so much of his hand already, admitting to lies and tactics and motivations he still feels foolish for sharing. Ruthless, Angelo called him once, and he wasn't off the mark. There's plenty he still doesn't know, but he knows enough, and he's still here to demand that Elias chase away his demons and give him something to live for.
This is what it's meant to feel like. Elias can't decide if that means Angelo is wrong and his heart is not so separate from this as he thinks, or if this is simply the best they're going to get. Meant to, like they're still playing pretend because it can never be real, even if it seems unfathomable that it isn't.
Time will tell, he supposes. Elias brushes the stray hair out of Angelo's face, his smile tinged with a hint of sadness. There's one more promise he can make, in secret: Angelo does not need to know that they're doomed. He already knows where Elias stands in regards to the captain, how he feels and what he wants, and that can be the end of it. Angelo will act on it or he won't, but Elias won't harp on the issue. All that would serve would be to squander the precious time they do have together. If they're destined to fall apart anyway, then why waste their energy on pointless hurt?
Avoiding further pain will be easier to accomplish if he lets Angelo believe the issue is behind them. When this connection between them can no longer keep them afloat, the fallout may be greater for it, but that's still preferable to the alternative. If they're going to destroy each other, it may as well be over something worth the sacrifice. ]
It is, yes. Tell me you believe now that you are more than just a body to me.
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Yet, he does believe. Now, more than ever.
To Elias, the body and the mind are one. It took feeling him all around and inside for Angelo to understand that. Where Angelo has spent his life trying to outrun his body, Elias is his flesh. The way his lips press against Angelo's forehead, the way his hand comes to rest on the small of his back, all of it is Elias' voice and Angelo had been deaf to it. He'd used to think of it as degrading to be reduced to the body, and he hadn't been able to fathom how the customers who lost themselves in lust willingly threw away their minds and wills to become just animated meat, nothing more. Low, vile, disgusting.
It doesn't feel disgusting when Elias is touching him, and it doesn't feel empty. Elias loves his body, yet when he touches it, he's also reaching beyond the skin. When he touches it, he touches Angelo, and the flesh and the soul are one and the same for the first time in his life.
Angelo exhales slowly, as if preparing himself to speak a vow. ]
I do believe you. Even before, I knew you meant it. I just couldn't... I didn't get it. I didn't know I could still feel like myself when someone else is touching me.
[ He shifts again, his hand wandering from Elias' side back to a familiar spot over his heart. ]
This is me. I'm not disappearing.
[ There is a hint of wonder hidden in the melancholy of his voice as he whispers it. ]
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It bothers him, he realizes, that so much of Angelo's sense of self seems tied up in external things. That's never been an issue for Elias, but he's seen it before, countless times. Most of the men on this expedition suffered from it, equating their value to their rank. Foolish. Weak.
Angelo is neither of those things. ]
I wish you saw yourself as I see you. To think of you disappearing...
[ He blows out a breath. Such a thing does not sound possible. ]
Should that happen, I'd simply say something to annoy you. You'd find your way back to me through sheer spite.
[ Said as a joke, but he does mean it in earnest. Elias does not enjoy pissing Angelo off, but it would be a quick way to return him to himself should he need an urgent grounding. ]
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Is that a promise or an example?
[ Talk about a drastic tonal mismatch to the gravity he'd just imbued his words with! But despite miming irritation through what he's saying, there's a small grin on his lips.
Mismatched, flippant, even rude... But it's a good promise nevertheless. To draw on the anger at his core to keep him anchored, to pull at that inconvenient, fundamental part of him to keep him tethered... It could be romantic, if it weren't said with such an irritating little smile.
The truth is, Angelo also wants to see himself as Elias does. ]
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I can't reveal all my secrets, can I?
[ He settles on his back this time, wrapping an arm around Angelo as soon as he's got the cigarette lit.
Elias is aware that Angelo's earlier sentiment is deserving of more attention than he's giving it. It's quite a heavy thing, the realization that this form of human connection is not as lost to him as he once thought. What a paradigm shift that would be.
But it's not something he wants to discuss now, the topic brushing up too closely against the bombs they've set off in past conversations. Earlier today, Elias had been trying his damnedest to avoid a fight, and it backfired spectacularly. What if that happens again? Landing themselves in another argument now would have disastrous consequences. He won't allow it.
He hugs Angelo to him and exhales in a sigh, careful to blow the smoke away from Angelo's face. He offers the cigarette. ]
I'm glad to see you happy.
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Angelo takes the offered cigarette gratefully. The first time they shared a smoke like this had been back in the promenade, and Angelo remembers feeling antsy about the contamination of another mouth. Now, he prefers it like this. A cigarette to each of them would make them equals, but one cigarette for both makes them one an the same. Another link in the chain to bind them together, despite the growing cracks beneath their feet.
Inhaling deeply, Angelo can pretend that he feels the tobacco settling in his lungs, dooming him with every drag. Dirty from the inside out, and yet... ]
... I'd be happier if we had a proper shower.
[ He blows out a small puff of smoke from the cigarette before he gives it back. ]
But we'll work up to it - that's what you'll say, isn't it?
[ To live, to truly live. Even now, Elias should keep promising him a better life, right? ]
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...He does think about the showers in the palace rather often, though. How spoiled they were. ]
We'll work up to it, yes. And in the meantime, this is already a marked improvement over the past month.
[ The cigarette case returns to its hiding spot, and out comes a small bowl to use as an ashtray. A practical action, but it also buys him time to figure out how to ask what he wants to ask. He doesn't think it's a particularly charged question (though he's been wrong before), but it's still difficult sometimes to find the words to talk about their wildly different lives. ]
With the way you talk, space must've been quite luxurious. And clean. Was the palace a step down from that?
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Mhm... in some ways, yes, but not as much as you might think. The place we lived at previously was actually quite similar in decor. A rich fool was our patron, providing his little castle reconstruction as a base for our activities. But it was inside a mining asteroid, so there was no vegetation. A lush garden like at our castle would have been impossible... I had to go to quite the lengths to import roses at all.
[ It had been an absolute hassle involving more paperwork and money than Angelo would care to discuss. Being able to just step outside to breathe in the roses... With all the pain he'd felt, Angelo would have been loathe to call it a privilege, but it had been a comfort that would have previously been impossible. ]
I missed the technology. Not having it did give me a headstart in learning how to wash by hand at least, but in my world machines can clean your laundry for you. There's no need to ruin your hands by doing it manually.
[ It is always difficult to explain what is common knowledge to him, but the more time he spends in the 19th century, the more Angelo learns to pin-point the differences and similarities. He hums thoughtfully, trying to think of what to add. It's nice to talk about something that doesn't matter, just to be talking to each other. ]
Ships are certainly cleaner. The Rewloowla was pristine, no comparison to the Terror at all. She was much larger too, of course.
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Machines...
[ There's a wariness in his tone. Again with the machines. Certainly that term must mean something different to Angelo. Machines are large and loud and dangerous. Washing one's clothing is not worth the trouble, nor the risk of losing a limb. ]
But all of that was afforded to you because of your rank? Most would not have access to... laundry cleaning machines, and the like.
[ His hand trails absently over Angelo's hip as he tries to wrap his head around such a strange world. Many in the castle had been from far more bizarre places, but Elias didn't bother himself trying to understand those origins. There was no reason to care, for one, but they felt so beyond his own experiences that trying to care was a lost cause anyway.
Angelo's world, though. It sits in an odd position in Elias' mind, too familiar to write off and yet too foreign to make sense of. He doesn't like the feeling. ]
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He shakes his head, though that is not much of a movement when his cheek is still firmly resting on Elias' shoulder. ]
No, they're common. I used them when I was still working the streets, too. Didn't have my own one back then, but I could go to the laundromat.
[ A short beat, but he remembers to explain before Elias has to go through the indignity of making any confusion known. ]
That's a business that has many washing machines in one place and you pay to use them. Most households have their own, though.
[ Most households - most normal families. He does not remember a lot about his early childhood. His father's face has all but vanished from his memory, replaced only be the image of a red pulp on the ground. But he remembers laundry. He remembers the smell of detergent, and the warmth of sheets fresh from the dryer. ]
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The only logical conclusion is that such technology must be advanced far beyond Elias' comprehension. Like those crystals back at the castle, perhaps. More magic than science.
He doesn't actually care about laundry, though. Sorry, Angelo. He taps a bit of ash off the cigarette. ]
Should we remain here long enough to rediscover civilization, you'll no doubt be further disappointed by the available technology. Terror is the nicest place I've lived—outside of the palace.
[ Obviously Chateau Ambergris is the frontrunner in that contest, but that's not a fair fight. The aristocracy of England likely lived that way, too. That much is visible in the luxury of the greatroom and officer's mess, even in their relatively bedraggled state. ]
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Ever since arriving at the castle, Angelo had completely foregone planning for the future. Without Frontal there to guide him, there had been nothing to look forward to, and each day had just been another punishment for failing to either save him or go with him. Being with Elias has given him short term goals to work towards. Reach the sea. Traverse the pack. Sail south. And then a nebulous 'truly live' to come after, a hesitant and grudging following after Elias as he sets the pace.
But hearing that Terror is the nicest home Elias ever had floods Angelo's mind with a sudden notion of something to look forward to - he wants to show him a world beyond the Middle Ages, a world of washing machines and vacuum cleaners and... What would Elias like? Microwaves? Jacuzzi baths? Angelo startles himself with it, imagining a goal so far in the uncertain future.
So he tries to play it off, stealing the cigarette back for himself. ]
I'd like to think I've learned to temper my expectations by now.
[ He assumes Terror was nicer before being stuck for three years without resupplies, but that wouldn't have made her any more modern. He takes a drag of the cigarette, weighing whether he should ask further. Elias has owed him an account of his past for a while now. He decides to take the gamble, however unwise it may be. He's always been impulsive. ]
Where did you live before you went to sea, anyway?
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But that's not the question Angelo is asking, and even if he was, what would it matter? He already knows Elias as a murderer, a cannibal, and a sodomite. It doesn't get much worse than that.
Still, Elias would rather be known as those things than by his class. At least he understands why society condemns the other three. ]
Um. I was renting a bed just outside of London for a few months. Before that, Manchester. That's a ways north of London.
[ Will Angelo even know those places by name? Unlikely, but he now knows more than anyone else on the expedition, alive or dead. Elias risked revealing his hometown to Crozier to avoid further suspicion, and to a handful of others that could already place him by his accent. Tozer, notably. Manson asked once. Billy never cared. Angelo likely doesn't, either. These are the kinds of questions people ask to be polite. ]
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