Belated Day 6: OpenBook
Title: A piece of one's soul
Fandom: Historical RPF - Shakespeare/Marlowe (although could just as easily be the Shakespeare and Marlowe from Shakespeare in Love, as I am certainly envisaging those actors.)
Summary: Will shares a ferryboat with a man as beguiling as a demon.
The hour was late and the taverns closing when Will alighted on a ferryboat with only one passenger, and a familiar one at that.
“May I join you?”
“Will Shakespeare! Upon my soul of course. We’ll split the fee.” Came the cheerful reply as Will climbed, somewhat unsteadily, being the worse for drink, into the boat as the ferryman pushed off across the river.
“Bit worse for the ale are we?” Drawled his fellow passenger. Will took in the man’s slouched posture and rumpled garments.
“I don’t think I’m alone in that Marlowe.” Marlowe laughed.
“I’m celebrating, Will, have you not heard? And Kit, please, to my friends.”
“I have indeed, Doctor Faustus, was it not?”
“Aye, the man who sells his soul to the devil.” In the lamplight there was something about Marlowe’s eyes that Will could hardly look away from.
“A man who finds himself in devilish company, and can hardly resist,” Will countered. Marlowe smiled.
“You surprise me, Master Shakespeare. Have you seen it?”
“Aye, and found it good. I am not one to quarrel, Kit, apart from for actors.”
“A pity, for I should think a quarrel with someone with your gift for words would be a sight to behold.”
“I can think of better ones.”
The Ferryman pulled up and they paid their fare. Will reached out to steady Kit as he stumbled along the bank.
“Who, again, is the worse for wear?” Will began but Kit pulled him closely. The heat of his body made Will’s words catch in his throat.
“If I am drunk then it is more than mere beer that causes me to reel. What a night this is,” Kit whispered, looking up skywards and forcing Will to stare at the length of his white throat in the moonlight.
“A night where devils walk and fairies roam, perhaps?”
“A night a man might sell his soul for. Or, perhaps a piece of it at least.”
“A piece alone, I’m sure, would taste divine to any eager demon.” They stared at each other once more, standing close enough that their breath might mind.
“Come in from the street,” Will said. “My lodging is close here.”
“And the hour too late for me to reach my own, at least when I find myself so in need of a bed.”
Will almost groaned with lust, and the impish expression on Marlowe’s thin face showed he knew it.
The room was small, papers scattered and ink splatters abounded but Will did not notice and Kit was far too occupied in divesting him of his garments and devouring his mouth with the energy of one of his demons devouring a new innocence.
Will responded by pushing Kit down onto the bed in one corner. It may not have been more than straw and hessian but Kit sank into it as if a prince, reclining on silken sheets.
“You have done this before, Master Shakespeare.” Kit observed as Will kissed those red lips soundly before kissing trails along his bared skin.
“As have you,” Will replied gasping as Kit succeeded in divesting them both and pulling Will down onto him. “And you a choirboy, Master Marlowe.”
“I’m sure that can come as no surprise. Unlike yourself I am quite the open book. For those that know how to read it.”
And read it Will would.
Note: Alas I did not take a great time to research so apologies if the timeline for Marlowe's play doesn't fit.
Fandom: Historical RPF - Shakespeare/Marlowe (although could just as easily be the Shakespeare and Marlowe from Shakespeare in Love, as I am certainly envisaging those actors.)
Summary: Will shares a ferryboat with a man as beguiling as a demon.
The hour was late and the taverns closing when Will alighted on a ferryboat with only one passenger, and a familiar one at that.
“May I join you?”
“Will Shakespeare! Upon my soul of course. We’ll split the fee.” Came the cheerful reply as Will climbed, somewhat unsteadily, being the worse for drink, into the boat as the ferryman pushed off across the river.
“Bit worse for the ale are we?” Drawled his fellow passenger. Will took in the man’s slouched posture and rumpled garments.
“I don’t think I’m alone in that Marlowe.” Marlowe laughed.
“I’m celebrating, Will, have you not heard? And Kit, please, to my friends.”
“I have indeed, Doctor Faustus, was it not?”
“Aye, the man who sells his soul to the devil.” In the lamplight there was something about Marlowe’s eyes that Will could hardly look away from.
“A man who finds himself in devilish company, and can hardly resist,” Will countered. Marlowe smiled.
“You surprise me, Master Shakespeare. Have you seen it?”
“Aye, and found it good. I am not one to quarrel, Kit, apart from for actors.”
“A pity, for I should think a quarrel with someone with your gift for words would be a sight to behold.”
“I can think of better ones.”
The Ferryman pulled up and they paid their fare. Will reached out to steady Kit as he stumbled along the bank.
“Who, again, is the worse for wear?” Will began but Kit pulled him closely. The heat of his body made Will’s words catch in his throat.
“If I am drunk then it is more than mere beer that causes me to reel. What a night this is,” Kit whispered, looking up skywards and forcing Will to stare at the length of his white throat in the moonlight.
“A night where devils walk and fairies roam, perhaps?”
“A night a man might sell his soul for. Or, perhaps a piece of it at least.”
“A piece alone, I’m sure, would taste divine to any eager demon.” They stared at each other once more, standing close enough that their breath might mind.
“Come in from the street,” Will said. “My lodging is close here.”
“And the hour too late for me to reach my own, at least when I find myself so in need of a bed.”
Will almost groaned with lust, and the impish expression on Marlowe’s thin face showed he knew it.
The room was small, papers scattered and ink splatters abounded but Will did not notice and Kit was far too occupied in divesting him of his garments and devouring his mouth with the energy of one of his demons devouring a new innocence.
Will responded by pushing Kit down onto the bed in one corner. It may not have been more than straw and hessian but Kit sank into it as if a prince, reclining on silken sheets.
“You have done this before, Master Shakespeare.” Kit observed as Will kissed those red lips soundly before kissing trails along his bared skin.
“As have you,” Will replied gasping as Kit succeeded in divesting them both and pulling Will down onto him. “And you a choirboy, Master Marlowe.”
“I’m sure that can come as no surprise. Unlike yourself I am quite the open book. For those that know how to read it.”
And read it Will would.
Note: Alas I did not take a great time to research so apologies if the timeline for Marlowe's play doesn't fit.