Kennedy's eyes are a brilliant blue that shines with anger and other emotion, the flash of it bringing more of a jolt to Edrington's body than the crack of the whip. He does not want this, he reminds himself. He steps back, drawing the gaze of Hornblower who watches with a cold, stoic face and wounded eyes. He nods, a tribute of salute in Hornblower's direction as he turns and leaves the room, the crack of air shuddering in his wake.

"You enjoyed it."

Edrington glances over to the door without halting his movements. He hangs his jacket on its hook before turning to face Archie, a slight smile curving his lips. "I beg your pardon, Lieutenant?"

"You enjoyed it."

"I heard you the first time. I merely profess ignorance as to what you're talking about." He unbuttons his waistcoat and looks pointedly at Archie. "Care to enlighten me?"

"I saw you watching." His voice is low hiss, his eyes so clear and dark they seem unreal. "You enjoyed his pain."

"Mr. Kennedy." Edrington shrugs out of his waistcoat and hangs it as well, smoothing the fabric before turning his attention to the cuffs of his sleeves. "Have you ever fired a pistol? Inhaled the hot scent of sulfur and felt a keen rush? So hot and alive it's almost like pushing into the wet, willing flesh of a whore?"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean, my Lord."

"And I am equally sure you do." Edrington unbuttons his collar and walks closer, dispensing with the distance between them. He inhales, the scent of anger and desire filling his senses. "You know the bullet will wound, maybe kill. Will rend the man it touches to death's door." He reaches up and trails his fingers over Archie's bottom lip, the slight touch enough to open his mouth. "But it still excites you. The smell. The motion. The power."

Archie's eyes dart away from Edrington's then settle back, unable to look away for long. "No, my Lord."

"Yes, Mr. Kennedy." Edrington licks his lips, smiling as the movement holds Archie's gaze. "You like the power. Just as you liked holding that young man down and preventing him from struggling. You liked it."

"You're quite mistaken, my Lord."

"Am I?" Edrington cocks an eyebrow and shakes his head slowly as he pulls away. "I think not. But you believe it, Mr. Kennedy. For as long as you can."

"Mr. Kennedy!"

Archie's eyes snap open and he fights the hold on him, the hard pressure of flesh and muscle against his body. He sucks down great gasps of air as Edrington's knees dig into his arms and the hand closes over his mouth.

"Be quiet, man." Edrington whispers the words hotly, his hand tight of Archie's parted lips. His nostrils flare as he glares up at Edrington, the rough sound of his breathing slowing as his eyes clear. He sighs quietly and leans closer, his voice a warning as he frees his hand from Archie's mouth. "Do you want to wake everyone?"

"Get off me." Archie hisses, fighting against the cool circle of Edrington's hands as they closed around his wrists, his knees sliding off Archie's arms. He struggles from side to side, thrashing once again, the sheen of sweat shining on his skin. "Get off."

"I don't know if you're aware, Mr. Kennedy," Edrington stares down at him until Archie relaxes again, his chest still heaving with every breath. Satisfied, Edrington settles back, straddling across the top of Archie's thighs. "But we're in the middle of a war, and there are men with guns quite happy to shoot you on sight."

"Get off me."

"And many of them are in His Majesty's Army." Edrington's grip on Archie's hands tightens as Archie's muscles bunch, prepared to struggle again. "Now, I would keenly suggest you settle down before you bring the host of them in on us."

"And what would they see, my Lord," Archie sneers the words, his eyes wide and wild. "What would they see at this moment, and, in truth, who would they shoot?"

"What would they see?" Edrington moves back smoothly, jerking Archie up in one fluid movement. They stare at each other, face to face, breath to breath. "They would see this, Mr. Kennedy."

Archie's mouth opens beneath his assault, his tongue pushing past dry, parted lips to the warm, dark wet. Edrington allows a low moan, in truth unable to stop it, as Archie becomes the aggressor, breaking free of the loose grip of Edrington's hands, shifting their weight so that the smooth, hard boards of the ship are against Edrington's back.

"Never," Archie breathes against Edrington's mouth, "never hold me down again." His hands are rough around the smoothness of Edrington's wrists, calluses rasping against his skin. Archie's body rests along the length of his, their hips together, the hardness of their arousal a thick, heavy weight between them. "I do not care if you are an Earl or a Duke or the King, my Lord. Never."

Edrington smiles, his tongue running along the edge of his teeth. "Is that an order, Mr. Kennedy?"

"A warning shot, my Lord." Archie assures him, his hands grinding Edrington's wrists against the wood. He brings himself closer to the promising curve of Edrington's mouth and traces the sharp edge of teeth with his own tongue. His voice is a low, dangerous whisper that is even more arousing than the crack of the lash. "Can't you smell the powder?"