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[Continued from here cuz hur hur penus]

"After all the care I'd taken to dress for you," he huffs, placing his hands on Hickey's chest so that the other man can begin to tackle his waistcoat and cravat.

"I'll put you back together afterwards," Hickey laughs. "You can preen and parade for me then."

Because begin to tackle his waistcoat and cravat Hickey does. He starts to unbutton Crozier's waistcoat before moving his hands towards the man's neck. "Reach over to the side table," he says. "There should be a little bottle over there. After I get you undressed, you're going to give me that bottle and I'll take you like a girl."

They're going to actually fuck tonight. Not mutual acts of service. Who knows when Hickey will see Crozier next, he's going to make this a night that neither of them will forget.

A little buggery tonight, is it? He watches Hickey’s hands with interest, momentarily distracted by the thought those clever fingers underneath his trousers, touching and exploring and unraveling him.

If Sophia could see him now.

He snaps himself out of it and does as he’s told, finding the little bottle and holding it up to the light.

“I assume you’ve done this before.”

In the Orlop. Yes, he knows.

"Course I have," Hickey grins. "Why d'you think I got in trouble with Irving?"

The little bottle is full of oil, perfect for slicking up his fingers and opening up Crozier.

"I'm going to lie you back down on my bed and take you. And you? You're gonna love it. I'll live in your mind for months afterwards."

He's finally gotten Crozier's shirt undone. And now, Hickey goes to work on the man's bottom layers.

Crozier sighs, hips rising softly as he Hickey begins to rid him of his trousers and then his smallclothes.

"You already do live in my mind," he sighs quietly, hand smoothing down his arm. "You'll undress too, yes?"

There's a brief moment where Hickey hesitates—he's still self-conscious about the scars on his ass. But he pushes past that, moving his hands to his clothing as Hickey undoes his own trousers, slipping them and his smallclothes down to his knees.

"If you want me to undress, then that's what you'll get. I'm giving you what you want."

He does want it. They've fumbled about in bed, intimate but always with some sort of barrier. He doesn't want that tonight. If Hickey wants to take him like a woman, then he wants all of him in turn.

Crozier touches under the hem of his shirtsleeves, then pushes his fingers up to bare his chest appreciatively. It was rude to admire him back on Terror; rude, and horribly indecent. But now...

"Let me take off your shirts."

It's been a while since he had a liaison like this. Slow. Appreciative. Able to drink in and enjoy the simple act of touching and admiring the other man. He likes it.

There's a small grin on Hickey's face as Crozier touches his chest. He gives the man a little nod before saying, "Go ahead. Even indulge in it, if you want."

He had every intention of doing just that, Hickey's approval or not. He rises and pulls off outer shirt, then begins to work on his shirtsleeves, fingers trailing over his slim, muscular stomach and light hairs leading down to his cock.

He's as red as his head and beard all over, in his cheeks and on his chest, in the way his skin seems to blush as he touches and caresses him. His elbows and fingers, his knees, the deep red of his cock and the area of his throat he's been kissing and sucking.

Crozier groans quietly to himself and leans forward to kiss his shoulders, hands reaching down to cup his arse.

He pauses, feeling the scars. The scars he'd given him.

He can feel Crozier's fingers on his scars. They're still there. They'll always be there. Having them re-open once he was sick enough, once he felt that illness in the tins debilitate his body, that certainly didn't help. They've healed since then, but that change their existence.

"Just move past them," he quietly reminds Crozier. Because Hickey doesn't want to think about that. He doesn't want to think about the man who lashed him like that mostly out of spite. "Kiss me instead."

Crozier shakes his head. He’s here to atone, just as Hickey had done. He’d been a terrible captain, a brute, too in the bottle to do anything but lead from his cabin.

He keeps his hands on the scars and kisses him, drawing him closer to press his hips flush against him. His hands caress along the curve of his hip and down his thighs, over those scars with deliberate tenderness.

He loves all of him, especially the part he’d marred.

The sensation of having his scars tenderly touched is new for Hickey. Billy never really touched them. Might have been a little guilty about the whole thing. Hickey always made it so Norton couldn't ever touch them. This is...hell, possibly the first time ever that someone's touched his scars with such tenderness.

It's odd. Lovely, but odd.

Hickey presses his body against Crozier's adjusting his position so that as much of their body that can touch is touching. Hickey adjusts one hand to ruffle Crozier's hair, stroking it slightly before giving the man a small tug, signaling to Crozier that he should move his head up so that Hickey can get some kisses on the neck and chin.

He tilts his head back and quietly groans as Hickey's bearded face brushes against the more sensitive areas of his neck. He buries his hand in his hair and drags his head up for another kiss, this time pushing his tongue into the other man's mouth to probe and taste him.

His hips push up, against his, meeting the heat between his legs with his own apparent desire.

Hickey lets out a low laugh as he feels Crozier's desire up against his body. Granted, that laugh is inside Crozier's throat thanks to the fact that they're still kissing, but it's visible in his eyes as well.

After a moment, Hickey pauses, pulls himself away for a moment, then grins.

"Spread those legs, darling. You're obviously ready and waiting."

Darling. Is this how it feels to be a woman? Because he very well may swoon.

He does exactly as asked, sitting back and placing the bottle into Hickey's hand. "You'll find me not quite as virginal as you might expect."

"I'm fine with that," Hickey laughs. "I'm not quite as virginal either. Best to do this with someone who knows what they're doing."

He uncorks the vial and starts to slick up his fingers. Hickey's making a show of it, looking over at Crozier and watching his reaction.

"First time with a man though," he adds rather cryptically. His eyes never leave Hickey's fingers, watching them get coated with the slick and thinking of them inside of him.

He squares his jaw slightly and looks up at him in expectation.

When he's got his fingers slicked up, Hickey looks over at Crozier, gives him a wry grin, and then slowly slips his fingers inside the man. He moves them around, starting to open up Crozier, watching his expression with interest and delight all the while.

Oh, fuck.

Crozier lays back against the bed, hands twisting in the sheets as he adjusts to the pressure of Hickey's fingers inside of him.

"Christ, yes."

Hickey adjusts his fingers, moving them around, trying obviously to find the sweet spot. Every groan and moan means that Hickey will just leave his fingers in that spot for the moment longer.

Eventually, he slips a third finger in as well, trying to loosen Crozier up even more.

"That's it," he laughs. "Let's get you nice and loose for me."

"J-Jesus..."

When he's ready, and the pressure of his fingers turns into a sweet ache, he begins to rock up against his hand. He grabs Hickey's shoulder and stares back into his face as he bears down on him, letting out a low, needy groan.

When he feels Crozier rock up against him, that's when Hickey knows he's ready. He moves his fingers out of Crozier, wiping the remainder of the oil and slick on his cock. He's careful as he does this, adjusting his position so that he can slide inside the captain. When it happens, Hickey lets out a low laugh of pleasure, grinning all the while. Once inside, he starts to thrust. Both of them are going to enjoy themselves tonight, thank you very much.

Being fucked by an actual prick is a lot different than fingers, and Crozier is pleasantly surprised as he's filled entirely by him. He gasps quietly at that first thrust, then again, then begins to moan as Hickey sets the rhythms between them.

"Jesus Christ, Hickey, Jesus..."

Hickey grins as he continues to thrust in and out, looking down at Crozier with a wide smile on his face. This is what he wants. This is what he loves.

"Say my name again," he laughs, tiredness in his voice, as he continues to work Francis.

Crozier raises his hands to cup Hickey's face, drawing him down for a desperate kiss. "Hickey," he smirks, nipping at his lip until he's certain it'll bruise.

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