There was little hesitation as Horatio wrapped an arm around Archie’s waist and dragged the man in close, needing the sensation of his form against his own. The awareness that he was there, present and hale, more than alive but thriving – to feel the warmth and solidity of him as they kissed was more important in that moment than all of England could ever hope to be in the eyes of Horatio Hornblower.
He gave back all that he could, pouring forth his devotion in the hopes that some of it might settle in Archie’s very bones and cleave to them, so that when the nights between were dark and cold that warmth would be there to remind the man that he was loved beyond measure and compare.
Taking a breath as he leaned away, Horatio leaned in to pepper Archie’s jaw and cheeks with kisses – as much out of joy as out of love, each kiss holding a little more smile than the last before he rested their cheeks together and murmured into his lover’s ear, “I’ve missed you. Would that we should never part again, if only it could be managed.”