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It was a dark and stormy night
a.k.a. It Was A Dark and Horny
Night
a.k.a. The Randy Highwayman
| Season: |
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| Spoilers: |
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| Word Count: |
3000 |
| Past Life: |
18th C |
| Rating: |
18. |
| Warnings: |
Language. AU.
Established Relationship. Romance. |
| Notes: |
Thanks to Saladscream for the beta.
You rock, my little buddy! Any remaining guffs are purely mine. |
“The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees,
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas,
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,
And the highwayman came riding -
Riding - riding -
The highwayman came riding, up to the carriage-door.”
The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes (with apologies for
liberties taken)
~~oo~~oo~~
It was, indeed, a dark and stormy night. The wind didn’t
whistle, it shrieked like Hell’s own infernal choir. A constant background of
moans from overtaxed branches, straining to accommodate the fickle tempest,
accompanied the frantic thudding of horses’ hooves. Titanic crashes of thunder
coincided with such explosions of lightning that Doctor Daniel Jackson failed to
understand how the coach driver could see where he was going at all.
Daniel was cold and tired and longing for the peace of his
own little parlour, a cheery fire in the grate and perhaps a small, purely
medicinal shot of something warming. But that would have to wait. There was no
way they could continue as far as his home in this dreadful weather. Grimly he
clutched the rough blanket tighter over his knees and held on to the strap by
his head, wondering how much further it was to the next village with an inn.
Almost on cue, the coach slowed its dreadful pace and
Daniel heard the nervous whinny of the horses as they rolled to a stop. The
coach creaked and groaned on its suspension as if it were still under way when
the wind slammed into the sides, rocking them like a ship adrift. He waited,
expecting a shout from above or a hand down from his seat, but none was
forthcoming.
Daniel let go his white-knuckled grip on the leather strap
and leaned forward to push back the curtain from the window. He was surprised to
see that no welcoming lights were in evidence – no inn, no village and no
shelter. They seemed to have come to a halt in the middle of nowhere.
Muttering to himself, Daniel pulled aside the blanket and
struggled into his topcoat. He pushed the door open with some difficulty as the
wind tried to wrest it from his grasp.
“What is the delay, sir?” he called up to the driver’s
seat, squinting against the weather. A timely flicker of lightning lit the scene
with an unholy pink brilliance, revealing that both the driver and his mate were
absent.
Daniel barely had time to rationalise this before the
sudden shock of cold metal against his neck made him stiffen.
“I am the delay, sir,” came the reply close against his
ear. The voice was educated and held none of the burr of a local accent. “If you
would be so kind as to raise your hands, I suggest we retire inside to transact
our business this evening.”
With his heart hammering, Daniel allowed himself to be
guided back into the carriage. He sat back heavily and watched while the black
figure took the bench opposite him. It was dark despite the fitful moonlight,
but there was enough to see the silver of a pistol pointing at the doctor’s
head.
Over the sound of the storm, Daniel could hear the man
fumbling with his clothing, then a flare of light caused him to blink when the
man blew on glowing tinder. He quickly transferred the flame to a candle in one
of the storm lanterns, which Daniel recognised, from the front of the coach.
This was obviously something he had done one-handed many times before, for at no
time did the pistol waver from its mark.
“There. Now let’s see what we have,” the man said to
himself.
“I fear you may be sorely disappointed by your choice of
victim on such an inclement night, sir,” Daniel said quietly but defiantly.
“I don’t think so, sir,” the man replied with a strange
inflection.
Daniel knew such things as Highwaymen were the scourge of
the roads to London, but out here in Wiltshire, it was practically unheard of.
He looked closely at his assailant for the first time. The lower half of his
face was obscured with a black kerchief, and beneath his hooded cloak he wore a
black felt hat. His brown eyes seemed to dance with amusement in the flickering
candlelight as he boldly regarded Daniel.
“Your valuables, if you please,” he requested, gesturing
with his pistol.
“Where are the driver and his mate?” Daniel asked quickly
before his nerve deserted him.
“Half way to London by now, I should imagine from the pace
at which they took off,” the villain said with a dark chuckle. “Do not concern
yourself, sir. They took no harm. Now, your valuables.”
Daniel lowered his hands slowly and drew out his woefully
light purse - the fee for his evening’s work.
The man held out a gloved hand and accepted the little
leather pouch, hefting its weight as he took it. His eyes went back to Daniel,
narrowing a little. “Now you wouldn’t be holding out on me, would you, sir? I am
not a man known for my love of deceptions and this is a very fine coach for a
man of limited means.”
“It would be were it my coach, sir. Sadly for you, I have
the loan of it from my recent employer, Lord Sutton of Radley Grange,” Daniel
said stiffly.
“And what form did this recent employment take?” the
highwayman asked, leaning back and putting a booted foot up on the velvet
upholstery. He almost looked as if he were settling in for a friendly
conversation instead of a robbery.
“I am a physician, sir. I was called to the Grange to
attend to Lord Sutton’s wife. He was gracious enough to have his coachmen bring
me home, when the consultation took longer than anticipated.”
“I see. And this is all you have?” the man asked, swinging
the purse thoughtfully from his fingers.
“That is all, other than my father’s pocket-watch which I
suspect is worth significantly less than your own,” Daniel admitted, indicating
the glint of gold across the man’s black-clad abdomen.
The man said nothing, but slowly put the pouch of coins
into the pocket of his waistcoat. He sat and watched Daniel until the doctor
felt quite uncomfortable from the prolonged scrutiny.
“I apologise for your wasted effort, sir,” Daniel said a
little sarcastically when he was unable to endure the loaded silence any longer.
If the man meant to kill him, he should damned well get on with it.
“Not wasted at all, as I have met your esteemed self,
Doctor…?”
“Jackson. Daniel Jackson, at your service,” Daniel
supplied automatically, then immediately felt foolish. He had read accounts of
the London robberies and none of them had mentioned such familiar and unnerving
behaviour from the protagonists.
“Well, Doctor Jackson. Maybe I can seek your professional
opinion on a condition with which I seem to be afflicted.”
“And what nature would this affliction take, Mister…?”
“Jack,” the man replied nonchalantly. “And I seem to be
afflicted with the desire to kiss you, Doctor Jackson. For which I can think of
only one cure.”
Daniel’s mouth fell open. He wasn’t sure whether to laugh
or swear. He could feel his face flaming at the unexpected admission and knew
that this… Jack would be able to see it too. The masked man wasn’t making any
threatening moves in his direction – just watching him still with that mocking,
steady gaze of his. Daniel stared right back, torn between anger and curiosity.
A sudden squall of rain hit the side of the carriage with
a dreadful clatter, making Daniel jump and realise that he hadn’t yet responded.
“I don’t think that’s something I can help you with, sir,”
Daniel told Jack coldly, lifting his chin defiantly.
The click of the pistol being cocked sounded terribly,
terribly loud, even with the noise of the rain outside.
“Oh, come now, Doctor Jackson. A kiss is a small price to
pay for your life,” Jack said smoothly, leaning forward into the candlelight.
Daniel wondered if a gentleman would rather die than kiss
another man. It wasn’t something he’d ever had to consider before, but he
supposed honour would dictate that such an unnatural act should make death the
more appealing option.
Which, frankly, it didn’t.
Daniel felt no revulsion at the thought of pressing his
lips to those of this charming criminal, merely a concern as to what polite
society might think of such a thing. But as it was highly unlikely that Jack
would ever be in a position to relay his exploits, unless on his way to the
gallows, Daniel didn’t really think it would be an issue. However, the question
of being left no other viable option was galling in the extreme.
Daniel watched with wide eyes as Jack eased toward him
slowly, removing his hat and pulling down his kerchief to reveal thin, smiling
lips on a clean-shaven and rather handsome face.
Daniel licked his lips. “You, sir, are a black-hearted,
villainous bastard and I…”
The pressure of Jack’s mouth on his own smothered his
protests, a hot, impertinent tongue taking advantage of Daniel’s words and
pressing inside his mouth to lick wetly at him. Jack’s hand snaked around
Daniel’s neck and grasped the hair at his nape, holding them together as he
angled their mouths to his satisfaction.
Daniel felt light-headed as he struggled to breathe
through his nose while waves of heat radiated from his bruised lips to every
part of his chilled body. He’d been right not to feel disgust, as the experience
wasn’t physically disagreeable in the slightest. On the contrary, it was intense
and exciting. This was no mere gesture, Daniel felt. The touch of Jack’s lips
had segued into something deeper than that – it was almost as if Jack was trying
to express something – perhaps a need.
The matter of his own free will was another issue. There
was no question that he would never have countenanced such a thing, had he not
been under a threat of death, and yet he couldn’t now say, having experienced
it, that he was averse to the feeling.
Every breath Daniel took was soaked with the scent of this
unknown man. He smelled of fresh air, gunpowder, leather and wool, and something
Daniel had no name for, but masculinity. He knew he should resist, put up some
kind of struggle, but he had completely lost track of the scoundrel’s pistol,
and the smallest defiance he showed might prove fatal. On top of which he hadn’t
finished cataloguing the unusual sensations this man’s proximity generated in
him.
With a satisfied grunt, Jack finally pulled back, his lips
pink and slick. His eyes were dark and hungry as he watched for Daniel’s
reaction.
Daniel attempted to marshal his expression into something
contemptuous, or at least unmoved, but he could see from Jack’s smug reaction
that he had failed to manage either.
“Your prize, sir, is a hollow one as it was given under
duress,” Daniel muttered bitterly, bringing the back of his hand up to his lips.
“Were it given freely, it would indeed be of incalculable
worth,” Jack responded immediately, his eyes straying to Daniel’s mouth.
And there it was. The control of the situation was
returned, in however small a matter, to Daniel. This thing that he’d never
experienced, or even looked for, was being offered to him. If he hadn’t been
utterly fascinated by the flecks of silver in Jack’s brown hair and the way the
candlelight enhanced the planes of light and shadow on his face, Daniel would
have recognised the insanity of it - the sheer madness of his reaction to this
man. But he didn’t. His whole attention was focussed on his desire to feel the
connection he had tasted briefly in their kiss.
Daniel lifted a hand and ran a cautious caress along
Jack’s jaw, wondering if what he’d imagined was real – that Jack’s kiss had been
passion, not punishment. The trace of stubble under his fingers was another
disregarded reminder that this was uncharacteristic behaviour. The scratch of it
both shocked him and thrilled him.
Closing his eyes, Daniel leaned forward and touched his
mouth to Jack’s, tilting his head with gentle fingers. Jack complied, easily,
willingly. Excited by this taste of control, Daniel swept his tongue over Jack’s
lips and moaned a little as Jack opened to him. The heat of their first kiss was
already surpassed, left far behind when Jack left his seat and knelt at Daniel’s
feet.
Daniel pulled back, puzzled, and watched in wonder as Jack
warily un-cocked his pistol and placed it, and his gloves, on the seat beside
Daniel, his eyes never leaving Daniel’s face. He looked hopeful and afraid in
equal measure.
Jack shuffled forward, forcing Daniel to part his thighs
when he leaned in once again, burying his fingers into Daniel’s hair and kissing
him deeply. Daniel jumped at the touch of Jack’s hand on his stomach through
layers of clothing, but quickly relaxed into the soothing rubbing motion. Which
worked lower. And lower.
Daniel made a most indelicate sound deep in his throat as
Jack’s hand brushed across his groin. It was as much desire as surprise and was
repeated when Jack began to push away the clothing that separated his fingers
from Daniel’s skin.
He wanted to help, to get him there faster, but all Daniel
could do was cling to Jack’s shoulders and remember to keep breathing. Daniel
heard a ripping sound, then finally, Jack’s blessedly cool palm taking his
heated flesh and squeezing gently.
Jack swallowed Daniel’s sobbing breaths, kissing him with
infinite tenderness. And all the while his smooth, strong fingers worked at the
aching hardness between Daniel’s thighs, inflaming him in a way he’d never
experienced before. The touch of another - so intimate a touch, was a revelation
to Daniel who gave himself over to it freely and joyfully, for once in his life
without thought of consequence or propriety.
He fought to prolong the exquisite sensation, but Jack’s
skill was too great, and with a wrenching groan he spilled between them,
shuddering and straining. Jack’s mouth never left his, kissing and nipping at
him while he came down.
While Daniel breathed deeply to settle his pounding heart,
he became aware that Jack hadn’t stilled. Although he’d let go of Daniel’s
oversensitive flesh, he could still hear the rustle of material that had
accompanied his own release.
Opening his eyes and moving back in his seat slightly,
Daniel could see that Jack had taken his own length in hand now. Jack’s chest
heaved and his eyes were tightly squeezed shut as he worked himself with the
same short, hard strokes he had gifted Daniel with. His other hand was still
twisted in Daniel’s hair.
Terrified, but fascinated, Daniel reached a hand slowly
down to touch the angry red crown of Jack’s hardness, where it was exposed at
each of his downward strokes. The warmth and silkiness of the skin there seemed
achingly vulnerable to Daniel as he rubbed a thumb across it.
Jack’s eyes flew open and with a surprised gasp, he came,
flooding over Daniel’s fingers, his own fist and breeches in ever weakening
pulses.
Daniel watched until Jack’s member had stopped jerking,
then looked up into shocked, brown eyes. Deliberately, Daniel leaned in and
kissed Jack once more, softly, meaningfully, before drawing away and searching
for a handkerchief to clean himself up. He didn’t look up when Jack stood,
collected his pistol and hat, and walked out without a word.
Daniel took his time adjusting his clothing and cleaning
his hands, giving Jack an opportunity to make good his departure. The rain had
stopped by the time he stepped down onto the wet road, the intermittent
moonlight turning it into a ribbon of silver leading off into the trees. Daniel
realised with a little guilt that he hadn’t even noticed that the storm had
moved on, growling far off to the east now. He looked about him, searching for
some landmark he might know.
“Nearest town is two miles that way,” a familiar voice
told him. Daniel turned to see Jack, his mask firmly back over his nose and
mounted on his dark, impatient horse. Jack indicated the road that lead to
Daniel’s left. “I’d take you myself, but you can see that would be impractical,”
he shrugged and Daniel was certain that if he could have had a light, he would
have seen that same amused glitter in the highwayman’s eyes.
“There’s an inn there, The Crown. If you hurry, you’ll get
there before they shut up for the night.”
Daniel turned and looked as far along the road as he
could. “Thank you,” he said simply.
Jack brought his horse across in front of Daniel and
paused, looking down at him. “Be careful, sir. There are undesirables around at
this time of night,” he cautioned.
Daniel couldn’t see the smile on his face behind the
kerchief, but he knew it was there.
Jack reached into his boot, pulled out a small pistol and
handed it to Daniel, his fingers lingering for a second where their skin met.
Then he sat up straight, kicked his heels and took off with a clatter of hooves,
which became heavy thuds as he turned off the road and into the cover of the
trees.
Daniel watched the darkness until he couldn’t hear him
anymore, then reached into the carriage to collect the blanket and lantern. In
the candle’s flicker he noticed that Jack had deliberately placed his purse
where his pistol had lain. Daniel picked it up, feeling the weight of his coins
still inside. He stepped back out into the cold night, tucked it into his
waistcoat pocket and then reached for his watch. His fingers fumbled for a few
seconds before he realised that it wasn’t there.
“Ha!” Daniel laughed quickly and shook his head before
turning and walking off into the darkness.
Fin
~~oo~~oo~~
“I’m the dandy highwayman who you’re too scared to
mention, I spend my cash on looking flash and grabbing your attention.”
Stand and Deliver by Adam Ant and Marco Pirroni
contact Berty:
Feedback@pepesplace.co.uk
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