#smarm

"it is always a little hot," Will said with a grin. "We're in Madeira. Come on Irving, you're growing soft around the middle." Irving put a hand to his stomach, but it was flat and lean as ever. Will gave a chuckle and turned towards the rigging. He had taken off his uniform coat and Irving could see a glimpse of hair at his throat and the broad muscle of his chest beneath the shirt. Finding himself staring, he raised his eyes to Heaven instead. Or at least, to the fore-top mast. He shrugged his own coat off. Will grinned again, teeth white in his suntanned face, and began to climb. Irving hesitated for only a moment, but it was enough for Will to get a start on him. He was perhaps only a few feet ahead of Irving, but he was strong and fit and Irving felt he would never catch him. He watched his friend climb higher and higher, the muscle in his thighs clear even through his breeches.

What an uncommonly good friend Will was, Irving thought, to take such notice of his quiet, bookish fellow officer and invite him along on this exercise. Will was remarkably popular onboard ship, while Irving was much the opposite, and it always gave him a spark of flattered joy when Will chose to spend time alone with him.

Will glanced down at him. "You're not even trying!" he called, the sun catching the blue of his eyes. His shirt was wet with perspiration and clung to every muscle of his back. Irving swallowed, his mouth unaccountably dry. His body surging with a strange vigour,  he began to climb in earnest. He caught up to Will at the last moment, who had flagged a little at the end. "You're a dark horse," he said to Irving as they both hung in the rigging, breathing hard. "I've never seen such a turn in speed. That takes strength." He reached over and clamped his hand around Irving's bicep. "Good lord what an arm! A secret kept well hidden." Irving put his hand around Will's upper arm in turn. "Not as strong as yours," he said. "I don't know," Will said. "Perhaps I will challenge you to wrestle next."