off while thinking about someone who hasn’t given their permission to be used in your fantasy.” That had never, not even once, occurred to Will, but it seemed like a not totally insane proposition; besides, Martin seemed pretty dedicated to overcorrecting for his father’s sins—Sir Humphrey had certainly not been one to put much stock in concepts like permission, Will recollected grimly. “All right, fair, but why not just imagine some faceless bloke?”
“That’s not how it works for me. I don’t want to shag faceless blokes,” Martin said, his face very red.
Will kissed his forehead. “Who do you want to shag, then? I mean, I’m assuming you want to shag me because here we are, and consider permission granted. Play with yourself until your hand goes numb.”
“Oh, go to hell. Can we talk about something else? Tell me all your masturbatory oddities and I’ll judge you for them.”
Thinking that was a fine segue, Will pulled off his trousers and rolled on top of Martin, taking himself in hand. “I’ll give you masturbatory oddities,” he said, leering down at him. And that made Martin dissolve into laughter, which was rare enough that Will could only laugh in return.
Martin woke with a start. For a moment he didn’t know what had interrupted his sleep, but then he felt Will twitching beside him. As Will usually slept like a stone, this wasn’t a good sign. Martin nudged him. “Will. You’re having a bad dream.”
Will mumbled something garbled and unintelligible. The sharp edge of panic in his voice made Martin shake him more urgently. He remembered those first months after Will had come home—he hardly slept at all, and when he did it was broken up by nightmares.
“Will. William!”
Finally William sat up, gasping.
“You had a nightmare. You’re safe in bed.” Martin sat up beside him, stroking a tentative hand up and down Will’s arm. “You’re in England. It’s 1819. You’re safe.”
Will stared straight ahead of him for long enough that Martin wondered if he had somehow fallen asleep sitting up, with his eyes open. But then he passed a hand over his mouth. “Fuck.” He was shivering.
Martin put his arm around Will’s shoulders and drew him back down to the bed, covering them both with blankets.
“A bad one?” Martin asked.
“Just the usual. I mean, they don’t happen very often anymore, but when they do it’s always the same.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?” He kept his arms wrapped tightly around Will, leaving as small a gap as possible between their bodies.
For a moment there was no sound but their breathing. “It’s the kids.”
“The kids?” Martin repeated, baffled.
“I didn’t care if he wanted to have me flogged, but some of the others were young enough to call for their mothers. Thirteen, fourteen years old.”
“I hadn’t realized.” Martin knew that children of that age were in the navy, and he knew Will wasn’t the only person aboard the Fotheringay who had been tortured—no use putting a fine point on it—by the captain. But he hadn’t thought about what it must be like for Will to have to watch other people enduring the same treatment.
“I’m so sorry,” Martin said. “I’m so sorry that happened to all of you.” He was also sorry that it was his own fault that Will had been sent to the navy in the first place, but he didn’t think this was the time for him to pour his heart out on that topic, not when Will’s heart was just beginning to slow down.
“I really don’t think about it much during the day. It’s just a thing that happened. At night though . . . well, it helps to wake up next to someone. Especially you.”
Martin stroked and caressed him, whispered soft foolishness in his ear, did whatever he could to help. He wanted to be there the next time, if that would mean Will had it easier. He wanted to be there anyway, beside Will in bed, always, forever.
Right when he thought Will might be about to fall asleep, he felt something press against his thigh. “That thing is relentless,” Martin whispered admiringly. Will had managed no fewer than three orgasms last night. Martin hadn’t known such a thing was even possible, and had been startled when he managed to come a second time. Will laughed, and Martin didn’t think he had ever heard anything that gave him such relief. “What should we do about it?” Martin asked, nudging his own hips forward so Will would know he was interested.