Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/552929.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Pride_and_Prejudice_-_Jane_Austen, Pride_and_Prejudice_(1995), Pride_and
      Prejudice_(2005), Pride_and_Prejudice_-_All_Media_Types
  Relationship:
      Charles_Bingley/Fitzwilliam_Darcy
  Character:
      Charles_Bingley, Fitzwilliam_Darcy
  Additional Tags:
      Hand_Jobs, Horses, Sweet, Cute, Young_Darcy, Young_Bingley, One_Shot,
      Blow_Jobs, First_Time
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-11-02 Words: 2206
****** A Windswept Kiss ******
by Vingtieme
Summary
     A forlorn 21-year-old Darcy meets a lively 16-year-old Bingley during
     a season in London, and falls head over heels.
Notes
See the end of the work for notes
            “Pleased to meet you!” he had said in his buoyant, exuberant voice,
and that was all it took. The 16-year-old blonde boy, with a simple
colloquialism, had captured the heart of a dark, shy, sullen young man from
Derbyshire. Fitzwilliam Darcy, for that was who young Charles Bingley had been
so pleased to meet, would never be the same again.
            It had been a drizzly season, and London was not the place
Fitzwilliam would have chosen to be. He hated the dark, dirty streets. He hated
the cant spouted thoughtlessly at all the social occasions he was obliged to
attend. He did not like strangers. New people made him nervous. He never knew
what to say, but for the usual contrived greetings and uninterested inquiries
after someone’s family. So, much to the chagrin of his socialite parents,
Fitzwilliam usually kept to himself. But Charles was different from the rest of
polite society. Charles was sincere.
            Dear Charles, with his clear, open face, could be trusted.
Fitzwilliam felt that, when Charles smiled, he truly meant it. He never offered
a compliment that was not deserved. He never asked after something if he was
not interested in hearing the answer, unless, of course, he knew it would
please you to speak on it. When he laughed, he laughed kindly. When he gave, he
gave generously. When he spoke, he spoke the truth. Around Charles, Fitzwilliam
finally knew what to say.
            So they spent a happy summer side by side; laughing, talking,
dancing, drinking, and running around at all hours of the night, intoxicated
with their youth. At summer’s end, Fitzwilliam took Charles up north, to
Pemberly. The autumn was crisp and chill, and the great forest was filled with
color. Many a lively hunting party galloped helter-skelter and punch-drunk
through the woods, reveling in the hoof beats tumbling over the earth and the
baying of the hounds, and caring not what game was to be brought home.
            The two rode out, one evening after dinner, to the brow of the
hill. All of the guests had gone home by then, and autumn was fading. A brisk
wind picked up, nipping at cheeks and tousling hair. Of an accord, the young
men reigned in their mounts to watch the sun sink down beneath the horizon.
Fitzwilliam glanced sidelong at his young friend’s profile, bathed in the warm
light of the setting sun. Those pink cheeks, that gleaming golden hair, that
lordly, delicate nose, those cherubic lips, and that pale, pale skin.
Fitzwilliam stared at the boy’s long white throat, and realized that he longed
to kiss; to touch; to bite and nuzzle and possess. His entire being seemed to
ache with longing.
           Without any real awareness of what he did, Fitzwilliam pulled his
horse nearer Charles, near enough to touch. Charles turned his head and looked
askance at his friend. Unswerving, Fitzwilliam took his young friend’s hand in
his own, and the two shared a profoundly communicative look. Blue eyes met dark
ones, and suddenly all was clear. Darcy leaned in slowly, hesitantly, but at
last their lips touched, and they became one.
            It was awkward to kiss someone on horseback, but pleasing thrills
still shivered up Darcy’s spine as the blonde boy’s petal-soft lips moved shyly
against his own. The dark young man cupped his cold fingers around the blonde
boy’s equally cold cheeks. Lost in each other, they paid no mind to the
whipping wind around them. After a small moment that seemed like eternity,
Charles’s horse moved slightly away, taking his rider with him, and breaking
the kiss. The boy peered up through his eyelashes at his newfound love,
blushing more deeply than the biting wind could force.
            Fitzwilliam smiled sheepishly at his younger companion and, when
Charles smiled meekly in return, his stomach somersaulted with the joy of
acceptance. Charles Bingley loved him! Loved him! He felt as if he would burst
with happiness! His delight fizzed like good champagne, and bubbled over into
laughter. “Come on, Charles!” he cried, spurring his mount to a gallop, racing
back down the hill.
            The young men raced and whooped and laughed all the way back to the
stables; then jumped off their mounts, and raced back up to the house, leaving
the horses with the stable boy. Before they knew it, they were leaping up the
stairs in a house already settling down for the night, locking Darcy’s door
behind them, and tumbling onto the cold bed (which wouldn’t be cold for long).
            Darcy immediately locked his lips onto his young love’s, kissing
him deeply. Charles responded eagerly enough, but didn’t seem to know what to
do with himself. His hands lay awkwardly at his sides and he kept opening his
eyes curiously to watch Fitzwilliam kiss him. When Darcy noticed that Charles
was behaving oddly, he broke the kiss, and looked down at his windswept love,
scrutinizing. “Charles, dear… May I take it that you are new to this?"
            Charles was mortified. “I – I’m sorry! Was I doing it wrong?”
            Fitzwilliam kissed his love’s worried brow. “Oh, no, no, no! But
you can touch me, you know. I do wantyou to touch me. You make me feel as if
I’m forcing myself on you.” Darcy paused for a moment, suddenly worried. “If I
am, I’ll stop, I swear I – ”
            Charles took Fitzwilliam’s face between his palms and fiercely
kissed him, leaving him no doubt as to his willingness. The kiss lasted a while
and, when the two broke apart, they were quite out of breath. “No…Will… I want
this. It’s just… I’ve never…”
            Fitzwilliam felt that this was so endearingly adorable that he
simply had to kiss Charles again. He kissed him gently this time, sweetly.
“Charles, Charles, Charles. I love you. We’ll go slowly.”
            Sitting up, Darcy shucked his boots so that he could lie in the
bed, and young Charles did the same. Still cold, Darcy pulled the coverlet over
the two of them, and they lied face to face, fully clothed. For a long while,
they kissed gently, nuzzled, and simply cuddled. Darcy found he very much
enjoyed having young Charles in his arms, and Charles felt supremely content as
well. Finally given the opportunity to worship that lovely, white neck,
Fitzwilliam licked, sucked, and bit at it (Alas, not anywhere above where a
cravat would cover, though he would have sorely liked to mark Charles as his
own.); and Charles made small pleasured sounds, encouraging all the while.
After another sweet kiss on the mouth, Charles laid his head on Darcy’s
shoulder, and took pleasure from his simple proximity. It was bliss to bask in
a lover’s warmth. “Will?” came Charles’ voice after a time. “You’ve had lovers
before?”
            “Well…erm… when I reached my majority, my father took me to…um… a
brothel in London. So I’ve, ah, made love before, yes, but I’ve never had a
lover.”
            Charles absolutely beamed and hugged Fitzwilliam tightly. “So I’m
your first! And you’re mine!”
            Darcy smiled furtively and stroked the golden head lying on his
breast. They were silent for a while longer, and then Charles murmured
something so softly that the older youth almost didn’t hear. “I love you,
Will.” Fitzwilliam felt as if he would burst with affection if he did not act.
As quick as lightning, he straddled his love and kissed him with all his might.
This time, Charles knew what to do. He wrapped his arms around Darcy’s neck and
threaded the fingers on one hand through dark hair, pulling his love ever
closer.
            Their kisses became more heated and more frantic by the second.
They separated only to breathe before plunging back into the depths of their
pleasure. Unable to help himself, Fitzwilliam ground his hips into young
Charles’, relishing the friction. Charles gasped and bucked into the pleasure,
eliciting a loud groan from his older lover.
            “My God, Charles, you are so – ” Darcy kissed the blonde boy again.
“So – ” Charles kissed him in return. “So good – ”
            Charles gave an impatient little moan and pulled his Will back into
the kiss. Wanting to hear that pretty little moan again, Fitzwilliam rubbed
Charles through his breeches. He was rewarded accordingly.
            Breaking away from the kiss, Fitzwilliam looked down at his lover,
whose cheeks were flushed, whose clothes were mussed, and whose golden hair was
utterly disheveled. Burning with desire, he attacked Charles’, beautiful throat
once more, rapidly undoing shirt buttons to reveal more of that lovely snow-
white skin. Impatient now, the dark-eyed boy nearly tore the buttons off
Charles’ shirt and, finally wresting it off, threw it unceremoniously across
the room. When he mouthed teasingly over pert pink nipples, Charles threw his
fair head back and positively whined Darcy’s name. “Will. Will, take your
bloody clothes off! Now!”
            Darcy could not deny his acute pleasure at being ordered around by
his previously hesitant young lover, and he smiled into a quick kiss before
hurriedly pulling his shirt over his head. Charles had clearly become more
comfortable with this new experience, and reached out to run his hands over his
lover’s chest. Pulling Fitzwilliam close, Charles tried nipping and kissing at
the older man’s neck, imitating what had been done to him. Darcy groaned
appreciatively, and captured Charles’ lips with his own, reaching down to rub
again at the younger boy’s hardness through the fabric of his breeches. With a
pleasured wail, the blonde boy batted Fitzwilliam’s hands away, and reached out
to fumble with his lover’s buttons, breathing hard. After an awkward moment,
the buttons were undone, and small, deft fingers were wrapped around Darcy’s
flush cock.
            The dark one choked with pleasure. Muscles shaking with the sheer
effort of keeping his limbs from going to butter, it was all Darcy could do not
to collapse atop his lover. Meanwhile, young Charles determinedly palmed
Fitzwilliam’s hardness, taking up rough strokes. Through the heady fog of his
pleasure, Darcy heard Charles mutter under his breath, “ ‘S Not so hard. Just
like by yourself.”
            Brought more to his senses by the touching sincerity of his young
lover’s concern for his pleasure, Darcy once again covered Charles’ pretty red
mouth with his own, and reached down to unfasten the buttons of his lover’s
breeches. Drawing Charles’ weeping cock out from within his underclothes, Darcy
gave it a few strokes, eliciting a loud cry and a frantic grappling for any
part of his body Charles could reach. Gazing glazedly down at his desperate
young lover, Darcy decided to try something he had only ever heard of. Before
he could change his mind, he took Charles’ length into his mouth.
            Charles, surprised, sucked in a loud gasp, and propped himself up
on his elbows to watch, wide-eyed, his lover’s ministrations. “Ah – Will, no,”
he said weakly. “You don’t have to – ”
            The blonde boy bit off his protestations as Darcy sucked hard, and
he was reduced to stifled cries and keening whimpers. The dark haired young man
presumed this was a good sign. As long as he was giving Charles pleasure, he
was probably doing it correctly. It felt odd… to have Charles’… in his mouth,
heavy on his tongue. But, somehow, it also felt terribly right. It gave him a
deep, hungry pleasure to see his lover fall to pieces, all because of something
hedid.
            When Darcy hollowed out his cheeks one last time, Charles spilled
without warning into his mouth, shoving a fist into his own mouth to stifle his
scream. Fitzwilliam gagged a bit. Seed didn’t taste particularly pleasant, but
it was alright because it was Charles. He swallowed with a slight grimace, but
was content to have given his lover such pleasure. With the taste of Charles
still on his tongue, Fitzwilliam moved to kiss the blonde boy’s plump, wet
mouth once more.
            “Mmmm, Sorry. I’m sorry, Will. I did not intend to – ”
            “Shh, shh, shh, it’s quite all right.” Darcy gave his lover another
languid kiss.
            “But, Will, I – Allow me to at least – ” When Darcy interrupted by
hotly kissing Charles again, the fair-headed lad did not wait any longer for
permission. He took Darcy in hand and pumped him quickly and firmly. Darcy was
close, and it did not take long for him to spill his seed into Charles’ fist,
and all over his young lover’s abdomen, with an uninhibited groan. He then
collapsed onto his dear Charles, making more of a mess of them, and they lied
there together for a long moment as they came down from their highs.
            Slowly regaining awareness, Darcy stumbled out into the cold air to
the washbasin and brought a wet cloth with which to clean up their mess. After
they were clean, Fitzwilliam fetched dry nightshirts out of the wardrobe. (He
would have liked to sleep naked beside his love, but the night was cold.)
Hurriedly, the two dressed for bed, Darcy stoked the fire, and then they
hunkered down under the bedclothes, still warm from their lovemaking.
            Enveloped in a cozy, blissful haze, the new lovers drifted off to
sleep. Absolutely content, nothing more needed be said. There would be more
love to be had in the morning, and more love to be made next night.
End Notes
     OK, I just HAD to write this. Some Anon suggested a pre-book Darcy/
     Bingley fic and, looking through the Archive and Fanfiction, I
     realized that literally NO ONE has ever slashed Darcy and Bingley. I
     know there probably isn't much material, and even I (the person who
     looks for potential slash opportunities in everything) haven't
     traditionally shipped Darcy/Bingley, but still... So, this is just me
     filling in the gap. Feel free to offer criticism (or praise).
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