Haddock hadn't been meaning to look, and he will swear till he was blue in the face that he never, ever meant to turn and see the thin strip of pale skin vivid against the dark tan that Tintin had acquired after a week diving in Greece. No. He hadn't meant to look, nor had he meant to stare when the lad stretched upwards to grab at the tin of sugar biscuits Nestor has placed on the second topmost shelf; the action revealing more and more of Tintin's berry brown skin and that elusive line.

He knew what it was, of course. One did not dock at exotic ports to not know what a tan line was. But that line that the young journalist was sporting was one from a new fashion trend those creatures of the female kind was all a-craze for, some sort of thin string-underwear thing called a thong.

And as far as Haddock knew, Tintin was neither a girl (and he can attest to that for all the things they'd been doing) nor had he a penchant for crossdressing (though he had hoped that could be negotiable), so how or whatever for he was sporting those markings on his skin, he would never know.

"Have I got something on my back?"

Hazel eyes twinkle fondly, a smirk gracing his beloved's lips. Tintin cocks his hips, as if deliberately bunching his shirt up with one hand. "You like what you see?" The journalist smiles when his lover stalks closer, picking him up by the waist like he weighs nothing more than a feather. Tintin loves it when he does that; pushing him onto the nearest flat surface available be it horizontal or vertical. It makes a shot of shiver up his spine whenever his slighter frame is blanketed by Haddock's firm, bulky build. The sheer knowledge of all the damage that body is capable of inflicting, but whenever it comes to him, no matter how far gone in lust, desperation and want for each other, Haddock could and would never hurt him.

"What's brought this on then?" He laughs breathlessly into their kiss. Haddock has him perched on the edge of the kitchen counter, their bodies pressed close. And it is then that he feels warm calloused hands slip in to his pants, thumbing at where he knows is his tan line. Ah... So is that what this is? Tintin draws away, leaning back down on the cold marble top. He feels the blush heating his cheeks, but ignores it for the bigger goal.

"Suffering catfish..." The good Captain gasped when Tintin begins to undo the drawstring of his pajama pants. "You have no idea... No idea, old man... No idea what it is you do to me." He runs a thumb on ever inch of newly exposed skin as the pants begin to slide off. Quickly, he divests Tintin of his clothes, making work of his own as well and relishing of the sudden sharp gasp when sleep warm skin meets the cold of the morning air and the marble.

They'd been in Greek for the better part of the last week, ending each day exhausted with the day's activities or in the case of the Captain, drunk on the island's spirits. They'd barely had time to soak in the heady romantic nights before they were back again home in Marlinspike.

Haddock throws one swift glance to the man sprawled on his kitchen top, the blush staining his cheeks as red as his hair, grinning before bending down to worship the pale line with his lips and teeth.

"Ah-Archie!" Tintin moaned. Haddock feels the wet leaking tip of his penis bobbing under his chin, against his cheek as he worships the pale lines on his young lover's skin. Laving at the juts of his hip, he feels slender fingers tangled themselves in his hair. "I'm not going to last very long if you keep at that." He was warned.

Claiming Tintin's lips always felt like the best thing ever. It was his favourite activity and he could spend hours just doing it (not that all the other activities weren't as lovely as well) to hear the beautiful symphonies that tumble forth from the young lad's lips. And he always knows which button to push to get each specific noise he wants.

Digging his fingers into the positions of the lines on Tintin's hips, he gently ruts against the inside of smooth thighs, stilling when a hand grips his arm.

"I-I don't want to come like this." Pleasure dazed blue eyes blink at him. Biting his bottom lip, he whispers "I want you. I want you inside me."

It almost makes him come then, almost. It takes him a moment, but when he makes to search for some lubricant, he finds himself immobilized by the two ankles digging into his arse.

"I might hurt you." He growls warningly. "I really don't want to hurt you, love. Let me just-"

"No! Now. Please..." Fingernails dig deep into his shoulder as he lifts them into position. Tintin pulls him close, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, bringing Haddock into a deep, soul-searing kiss. "I want it to hurt. I need this, need you. Want you..." A whisper to his ear "My Captain, make me yours again... Take what is and always will be yours."

Blistering blue barnacles! This boy will be the death of him, he was sure of it. Biting the inside of his cheek, Haddock struggles to bring himself from spiraling to the edge and beyond. Whatever that can be said about Archibald Haddock in bed, it will never be said that he lacked stamina.

Everyone always raves about the sensations when they reach the apex, but Haddock always loves the initial feel of the first breach best. The slow opening, gathering him into its fold. The tight, wet suckling heat; slick and fitted like it was made for no other man but him. The beautiful sounds that Tintin makes when he snaps his hips just like that... Oh! The pleasures are endless.

There will be hell to pay later, of course. He isn't as young as he used to be and lately his aches and creaks are getting worse than they used to be. He knows Tintin has noticed, but has politely refrained from any remarks for the respect of his dignity, merely resigning himself to preempt any of the worse of his condition. For that he's glad. He couldn't be anymore blessed.

Haddock wants to draw their coupling out, though he knows he will not last any longer if Tintin's hands keep kneading his arse like that, and his talented mouth is suckling at his neck like so.

"Tintin..."

A smile, "Yes Archie?"

"I." Thrust. "I..." Thrust.

Gently, Tintin tucks his face against his neck. "I know. Me too." A soft kiss placed on his bearded chin. "Me too."

Words were never his strong suit; always preferring silence to loud chatter. But with Tintin... It was always the perfect mix of both.

They come together. Haddock keeps thrusting in and out even as his seed begin to trickle in pale streams. Tintin's come mars both their bellies, but Haddock reaches a hand to spread it wherever he can on the boy's skin. He feels his young lover shudder when he slowly pulls out, gently stroking the tan lines on his hips, naval and groin.

"Was it because of the thong?" Tintin asks sleepily when the Captain gathers him up into his arms in a bridal carry. "I only wore it whenever I went down to the beach with Milo."

His words stops Haddock in his steps up the stairs. Frankly, Tintin's a little worried. They're both still naked as the day they were born and covered in evidence of their love making. Nestor should be making an appearance soon. Stroking the side of the older man's face, "Haddock?"

"You mean to say... there was someone else who saw you? In that?!" Bright blue eyes grew wide at the thought. And then, a deep primal growl and the tightening of his hands on the young man's skin that does something quite delicious to his nerve endings.

Needless to say they barely made it to their room before Round Two begun. And it was rather much later, when Tintin was far more satisfied bone-deep when Haddock broached the subject of a satin negligee.

And that, is a whole other story to tell.

~FIN~