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The assembled group of dignitaries and their favored companions only seemed to have eyes for the dashing Lieutenant Hornblower. Captain Pellew made no effort to hide his pride in the young man’s achievements and delighted in showing him off to the entire table, encouraging him to regale them all with tales of his daring do.
Cora’s gaze, however, sought out the quieter, gentler, Acting Lieutenant Kennedy. Archie. He seemed pensive, a little overwhelmed by the occasion, as if he were not sure he belonged at the table with the rest. Though Hornblower was no doubt a handsome man, with his dark, brooding eyes, pale complexion, and his face framed with thick, brown curls, she was drawn to the piercing blue of Mr. Kennedy’s eyes, the silky gold of his hair and how every inch of his face appeared to have been kissed by the sun. His strong, square jaw made her fingers itch to stroke along its clean, chiseled line; his small, yet beautifully shaped mouth appeared moist and oh so inviting. She closed her eyes imagining his hands around her waist, as he leaned in towards her …
Her eyes snapped open for fear of her desires being written so plainly on her face; she had never been one able to conceal her private thoughts with any degree of success and she surely could not be so obvious in her affections this night. She stole a sidelong glance his way once more, to discover to her combined shock and exhilaration that he was observing her in return. The corners of his mouth pulled up in a slight smile as he nodded almost imperceptibly in her direction. She felt the color rush to her cheeks as her bodice, tight as it was, suddenly seemed to deprive her of all oxygen. This only seemed to amuse him more as his grin widened for a moment, before he let his eyes drop back down to the plate below him.
She forced herself to concentrate on Mr. Hornblower’s current tale of a siege on a bridge in France. Muzillac, he had said. He talked of how Mr. Kennedy had outrun a lighted fuse to bring him across the bridge safely, even as it collapsed just feet behind them.
“And so you see, gentlemen, I would not be alive today, were it not for the courage of Mr. Kennedy, here.” He finished with a flourish.
She watched as Archie reddened in embarrassment at being so openly commended. In a hushed tone, he replied,
“It was nothing. You are a fellow officer and a friend, I was merely doing my duty.”
“Indeed, but back to the matter in hand,” Pellew blustered, wishing to return the conversation to the latest skirmish in which Hornblower had successfully fought off an attack by French privateers off the coast of Bordeaux.
Archie retreated back into insignificance at the table and Cora felt a sharp stab of injustice strike at her heart. She had been gladdened to hear Mr. Hornblower speak so highly of his friend, but equally angered at the Captain’s dismissal of Mr. Kennedy’s actions. Surely there was enough praise for all His Majesty’s loyal servants?
The meal concluded and most of the diners made their way to the drawing room for port and cigars. Cora noted, with interest that Kennedy had slipped quietly out on to the terrace, alone. She looked around her, keen to ensure no one was aware that she had lingered at the table. Satisfied her presence had neither been noted nor missed; she followed Mr. Kennedy through the glass doors and out into the moonlight.
He was leaning on the balcony that overlooked the bay, staring out over the water with a calm reverence as she came up beside him. He started a little at her appearance.
“Miss O'Connell, you will likely catch cold in this breeze. Should you not retire with the others?”
Cora, sighed, “I thank you for your concern, Mr. Kennedy, but I am well where I am, sir. Why do you not keep company with your shipmates?”
“I doubt they will notice my absence,” he replied, “save Mr. Hornblower, of course… but he will be kept busy by the Captain…” he trailed off, without actually answering her question.
Seeing that he did not wish to be pressed on the matter, she said, “I should be intrigued to hear more of the siege at Muzillac. I was disappointed that Captain Pellew did not allow for further detail on the matter.”
His eyes met hers and she swallowed hard to maintain her composure.
“My lady, the Captain was right to do so. My courage during that sorry affair was greatly overstated.”
“I think you are too modest, Mr. Kennedy. Mr. Hornblower does not seem one to praise without merit.”
Archie let out a small, sarcastic laugh. He stepped away from the balcony to recline against the wall.
“What he failed to include was that earlier that day, my panic had almost prevented the success of our mission, and as for myself, the only reason I came to Mr. Hornblower’s aid on the bridge was my own selfish desire not to be parted from him. I was so afraid to lose my best and closest friend. But for that, I never would have acted.”
Cora frowned, thoughtfully before responding, “Sir, it is my belief that there are all kinds of courage. Too often, courage is equated with not feeling fear. It is my opinion that true courage can be seen most clearly when a man acts, despite his fears.”
His eyes widened at her statement, before creasing into a smile, “Well, you are quite the tonic for my melancholy.”
Observing the position of a convenient pillar that hid Kennedy from the sights of anyone that chose to open the door they had taken out onto the balcony, Cora stepped towards him, “Is there anything else I might do to improve your mood, sir?” Her enquiry was accompanied by a twinkle in her eye that could not be misinterpreted.
“Well you can start by calling me Archie, no more of this Mr. Kennedy, sir, nonsense.”
“Very well…Archie.” His name escaped her lips as easily as a sigh, sending a wave of pleasure rolling though her body by its sounding. She could feel his eyes burning into her, as they stood in silence for what seemed to be a moment without end.
At length, Cora slowly slid her hands underneath the folds of his wool coat, to encircle his waist. He did not retreat, but did not advance. Stunned by her own forwardness, which was certainly no way for a lady to behave, she began to withdraw them again. Suddenly Archie sprung to life, his hands on her arms, preventing their removal, as he brought them even closer together. Silently damning the layers of skirts between his thigh and hers, she pressed against him, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.
“I shouldn’t…we barely know each other and I sail for England in the morning,” he murmured in her ear, his hot breath searing her flesh.
“What better way to get acquainted, Mr. Ke…Archie. And all the more reason, for tomorrow will be too late for both of us.”
Her breathing was now as ragged as his as she continued, “Take pleasure in me, Archie. Don’t question, just act.”
“It’s been so long.” He sighed as he finally closed the tiny distance between them. He brushed his lips across her delicate mouth, softly at first, but as their mutual desire grew, so he ground them harder against hers. They parted a fraction, as she moaned his name. He seized on the invitation, swallowing her words as he plundered the depths of her warm, wet mouth.
He tasted of the sea, she mused as his tongue slid along and over hers, deftly flicking and teasing with ease. She reached up and touched his jaw, as she had fantasised doing only an hour ago. Her hand slid backwards to tangle in the silky, gold strands of hair that escaped his queue. She delighted in the tiny moan that slipped, unbidden from his lips before they hurriedly claimed hers again. With her free hand she roamed across his broad chest before wrapping it around his back. For a man of modest stature, he was compact and far more muscular than one would expect. He was magnificent. Michael Angelo himself could not have sculpted a more god-like form. She shivered at the thought of his skin against hers.
He broke their kiss, momentarily stooping as his hand dipping low to reach under the hem of her skirts. He ran his hand slowly up her leg, tracing the inside of her thigh, over her stockings, enjoying the way she tightened in response. She lifted her leg, to aid his endeavors, whispering amid snatched breaths,
“Charting new territory, Archie?… the Captain will be pleased.”
Archie chuckled in response, that impish grin lighting up his face so completely.
“Nothing left now but to plant your flag and claim it for England,” she added.
“Good God!” He tipped back his head laughing at the crude metaphor. She too was swept up in laughter as without warning, the terrace door opened. The laughter caught in their throats as their bodies froze.
“Archie…?” Came Mr. Hornblower’s questioning tone, “Are you out here?”
“Just a moment,” he replied, fighting to keep an even tone to his voice.
They released each other, reluctantly; a veil of regret for a lost opportunity falling over their faces.
Archie turned to leave, a finger still touching her lips from his quieting her at Horatio’s words. She took it in her mouth for a moment before letting him loose, then gazing up at him coquettishly through thick lashes, she spoke in hushed tones,
“Should you wish to continue your voyage begun here, my room is the third on the left from yours.”
He smiled, nodding. “Later then, when the house is in slumber.”
He kissed her hand, gallantly, then stepped from the shadows to greet his friend.
~~~~~~~
Archie re-dressed in the dark. It wouldn’t do to be caught wandering the corridors of the Governor’s house in anything less than fully clothed status. If only he could locate his shoes! He groped along the floor for them, cursing the exceptional blackness of the night. Crouching on the floor by the desk, he discovered one. On finally locating and reaching for the second he only succeeded in connecting his head with the underside of the table. The noise of skull meeting wood seemed to reverberate around the stone-walled room. Archie froze at the sound. Seconds ticked by with no sounds of movement from Horatio’s bed. Satisfied he had not woken his friend; he rubbed the point of contact to soothe the pain with one hand, then grabbed the infernally elusive shoe with the other. Sliding the shoes onto his feet, he rose and stealthily made his way to the door.
“Archie?”
Horatio’s voice was thick with sleep, but Archie knew he’d have to answer for his actions when he heard the bed creak.
“Go back to sleep, Horatio.”
A snort sounded from Horatio’s side of the room. A moment later the candle on the nightstand beside the bed was lit and Horatio became visible, propped up on one elbow.
“What the devil do you think you’re doing at this hour?” Horatio demanded.
“I, I… have a prior engagement that I have no intention of missing,” Archie faltered.
“With Miss O'Connell, I’ll wager,” Horatio sighed, “Archie…” the timbre of his voice carried a clear warning.
Archie’s blood rose at Horatio’s disapproval,
“Jealous, Horatio?” He snapped, “That she should desire me and not the courageous Lieutenant Hornblower?” He regretted the words the moment they left his lips but it was too late…
“Archie, as ever, I-I only sought to counsel you, to keep you safe. If you were discovered, she’s the Governor’s daughter…” Horatio stammered but failed hopelessly to conceal the hurt Archie’s hasty comment had caused. And yet he could not help but question why he was so discomfited by Archie’s intended liaison. He squashed the thought before it could take shape.
“Forgive me, Horatio. Pay my thoughtless tongue no heed.”
Horatio barely registered Archie’s apology.
“You were with her earlier, were you not? I… interrupted you?” Horatio questioned, uncomfortably.
He already knew the answer; he had sensed as much from his friend’s ever so slightly disheveled appearance as he’d joined him to return inside. His eyes were a little darker, his lips a little redder and his cheeks had taken on a pink tinge, all of which had betrayed his recent activities. Horatio had simply refused to pass comment; struggling with an unfamiliar tightness in his throat and a knot in his stomach he could not explain.
Archie smothered a giggle, “Yes, and to think the Captain praises you for your timeliness. Had you delayed your arrival a measure, my night-wanderings would doubtless not be necessary.”
“It is I who should apologise, Archie. I would never have intentionally intruded upon such a private moment. Heaven knows life at sea is harsh; we must all take comfort when the opportunity is afforded us.”
Archie smiled at Horatio’s pragmatic and logical assessment of their current situation.
Not for the first time, found himself regarding Horatio in a manner most would deem altogether improper. He had attempted to convince himself that his fondness for his shipmate was akin to brotherly affection. Or that he had simply spent far too long at sea, with little prospect of knowing the love of a good woman. He did not count the many willing women that lined the docks and filled the inns of Portsmouth. Cora however, was clearly a woman of breeding. Her fresh smell bespoke her fastidiousness when it came to cleanliness, something that Archie prized highly in a lover. Horatio loved to bathe…
He realised he’d been silent for too long and quickly blurted out,
“Yes, indeed we should, Mr. Hornblower. And so I’ll take my leave of you now.”
Archie’s hand was again upon the door to exit, when he saw Horatio’s shoulders hunch over as he hung his head and fidgeted with his hands. Archie paused.
Cora was waiting, and yet he could not make himself leave the room. Instead he released the doorknob, walked over to Horatio’s bed and sat on its edge. He watched the candlelight play on his face, making and breaking shadows along his profile. God, but he was handsome. A lump formed in his throat.
“I shan’t leave if you don’t want me to. Do you wish me to stay, Horatio?” Archie’s voice was soft and a little shaky.
“I do.” Horatio’s voice was less than a whisper and he would not meet Archie’s eye but his fidgeting had grown more pronounced. It was as if he’d decided on a course of action but was unsure of its execution. Archie had never before seen the usually calm, collected, totally in-control Lieutenant Hornblower seem so uncertain.
Horatio finally spoke again, “Archie… you were right.”
Archie wrinkled his brow, “about what?”
“What you said before. I was jealous… but not of you… of her.” With the truth of his feelings laid bare, Horatio was suddenly gripped by fear. Fear of the noose for having expressed such a forbidden desire, fear of the intensity of his own emotions, emotions he barely understood, but more than both of these, Horatio feared rejection. He slid backwards on the bed until he reached the wall and turned his face towards it.
Archie felt as if a fuse had been lit at the top of his spine and was now racing inexorably along its length, giving off sparks as it journeyed downwards. His tongue swept his lips as he groped for a response. He had never dared to hope that Horatio might return his feelings. Never one to be lost for words in any situation, he found his inability to formulate anything remotely coherent greatly distressing. And then he realised; this wasn’t a time for words, it was a time for action.
Kicking off the shoes that had begun this pivotal exchange, and removing his jacket, Archie clambered onto the bed and crawled towards Horatio. Reaching him, he sat back on his heels and reached out his hand. With trembling fingers he swept the lush curls that hid Horatio’s face from his and proceeded to cradle his jaw with a ghost of a touch.
Horatio raised his head a fraction, startled by the contact, his skin tingling under Archie’s tentative touch. Dark, brooding eyes met limpid, azure ones. Volumes were spoken without a word being uttered. Horatio’s fear melted to shy hopefulness as the weight of his stare implored Archie to continue.
Archie’s other hand inched along the bed, searching for and finding Horatio’s hand. He slid his fingers between Horatio’s, stroking up and down the length of each digit, interlacing them before closing down to grip firmly. Horatio’s response was immediate as he squeezed Archie’s hand with equal strength.
Archie’s heart was beating so hard and fast, he felt sure Horatio could hear it as he leaned a little closer. His right hand was still on Horatio’s cheek, but now instead of just touching with fingertips, his whole hand pressed against Horatio’s face, delighting in the feel of his soft, still boyish skin. He allowed it to slide down caressing Horatio’s neck, feeling the thrumming of his carotid as it pounded blood just under the surface. Archie closed the remaining inches between them, eyes fluttering shut as he did so, to press his lips against Horatio’s. He could not help but moan faintly as he finally tasted him; an exquisite blend of port, from this evening’s indulgence, and sea salt. His tongue slid over Horatio’s lower lip in a slow, tantalising fashion, begging admittance. Horatio was quick to welcome him, parting his full lips and gasping as Archie’s tongue stole inside.
Horatio was in ecstasies as Archie’s skillful tongue began to move inside his mouth. He could not help but compare the sensation to his recollection of kissing Mariette, the only other person he had ever harbored this kind of feeling for. He found that his remembrances of that encounter paled into insignificance when measured against the utter bliss he felt to have Archie bestow the same precious gift. His own tongue grew bold as he slid it along Archie’s causing them both to jump at the increase in pleasure. Archie tasted sweet and warm. His smaller but perfectly formed lips were pliant against his and seemed to fit as if made for Horatio’s mouth alone.
Horatio slipped his arms around Archie’s waist, to pull him closer, keenly aware that although Archie was fully dressed, all the stood between Archie and his own naked skin was his thin linen nightshirt.
As if sensing his thoughts, Archie’s free hand sought the hem of Horatio’s nightshirt, creeping underneath to stroke along his chest and around his back.
Archie grew more aroused as he explored the hard planes of Horatio’s body. He could feel the muscles in Horatio’s back ripple as he shifted position to deepen their kiss still further. He felt Horatio’s hands drift upwards to untie his queue. Tossing the ribbon aside, long slender fingers now wove in his unruly mane, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end as gooseflesh spread down his arms. In a daring move, using both hands, Archie traced down Horatio’s sides, moving with purpose, with a destination in mind: Horatio’s hips and the curve of his arse.
Even though he had anticipated Archie’s objective, Horatio was still unprepared for the rocket of pleasure that shot to his groin as Archie stroked so close to that most intimate of places. His cock was visible, hard and throbbing though his nightshirt and it ached with an intensity unlike any Horatio had ever experienced before.
He was suddenly maddened by the clothing that kept him from touching Archie’s skin. He worked the buttons on Archie’s waistcoat, his fingers made clumsy by the destructive combination of desire, nervousness and the need to accomplish the task with alacrity.
Archie could not stifle the laugh that sprung forth from his mouth to see the mask of sheer concentration on Horatio’s face as he fumbled with the fastenings. Taking both of Horatio’s hands in his, he removed them and instead placed them on his own thighs.
“Please do not think I am not appreciative of your enthusiasm, Mr. Hornblower,” he teased, “but I believe this task is better accomplished by a seaman with a steadier hand. Our shore leave will be ended by the morning, after all and I would hate for you still to be struggling come three bells.”
Horatio flushed with embarrassment at his lack of dexterity, but his discomfiture was fleeting as he turned his attention to running his hands along Archie’s strong thighs. He felt them tighten and strain against the material of his breeches, and in a moment of uncharacteristic abandon, Horatio rubbed his hand over Archie’s rock hard length between them. Archie let out a guttural cry, his own fingers slipping on the button that had been consuming his attention.
“I fear you are no more adroit than I, Mr. Kennedy,” Horatio smirked at him, enjoying his ability to turn the tables on the other man.
“Given the nefarious tactics you employed to achieve that goal, I cannot deny it,” came Archie’s playful rejoinder. He was enjoying the verbal repartee almost as much as Horatio’s touch.
“You know me, Archie. I play to win.”
As he laughed, Archie was able to free himself of his waistcoat and shed it without a second’s pause. Horatio’s hands were now at his throat, loosening his stock, in between scattering hot kisses on his cheeks and lips. Once his neck was exposed, Horatio immediately nuzzled into it, nipping and licking at his Adam’s apple, setting Archie’s skin aflame. His hands reached down to pull Archie’s shirt free from his breeches. Archie was quick to pull it up over his shoulders and discard it on the floor beside the bed. Horatio’s nightshirt joined it in quick succession.
Horatio’s hands slid along Archie’s well-developed chest, playing in the golden hairs that adorned it, tracing every curve of every muscle with wondrous awe. Without warning he pulled Archie towards him, needing to feel Archie’s flesh against his own. Both unable and unwilling to brace against his friend’s sudden movement, Archie tumbled forwards on top of him.
Horatio sighed to feel the weight of Archie pressing him into the bed. He ought to feel uncomfortable, he mused, being naked when Archie was not but instead he felt elated. Mindlessly, he rubbed against him, trying to ease the pounding between his legs. The sound of Archie moaning in response and the sublime friction his own actions were creating left Horatio breathless and more excited than he could ever recall feeling. The exhilaration he’d experienced when he’d captured his first ship; the pride in his chest when Pellew had praised him for saving the Indy; nothing could hold a candle to the rapture he felt in this moment.
Archie reached round to untie the laces at the back of his breeches as he thrust his hips downwards to grind against Horatio’s. That task accomplished with moderate ease he rolled onto his side to see to the buttons in front. Horatio saw the need but still mourned the necessary, albeit temporary break in contact. All at once he was ruing every moment he had not spent in Archie’s embrace, wishing he had recognised the truth about himself sooner. He watched Archie wriggle out of his breeches, stockings and undergarments, sucking his breath in through his teeth to see Archie’s considerable manhood at last exposed.
Seizing his opportunity he rolled over on top of his fair friend, stretching Archie’s arms up over his head and threading both his hands in Archie’s. He continued to grind against the other man’s chiseled frame.
“Even in the bedroom, you cannot help but command, eh ‘Ratio?” Archie rasped as a torrent of kisses rained down upon him.
“You wouldn’t hold that against me, would you Archie?”
“I appear to be holding everything against you at present, Mr. Hornblower,” he quipped.
Horatio tipped his head back and laughed. Rarely did he ever let his guard down enough to do so; but this was a laugh signifying the complete freedom he felt. He was more comfortable in his own skin than he had ever been and this new-found liberation was intoxicating. His thrusts gathered speed, becoming more powerful as their cocks rubbed together. Archie raised his body to meet each of Horatio’s movements, arching his back in perfect rhythm.
A searing heat began to build in Horatio’s loins and he raced towards climax, his vision blurred, the sounds he was making became muffled to his ears.
“Oh, Archie!” He exclaimed as his orgasm overtook him and he spilled his seed across Archie’s stomach. Archie’s release was only seconds behind, tipped over the edge to hear his own name cried out with such yearning. He spilled against Horatio’s belly as Horatio slumped down onto him, sated and spent.
They lay that way for several minutes; the room silent but for their panting for breath. At length, Horatio lifted his weary head to look at Archie, resting his arm across Archie’s chest in a desperate attempt to prop himself up. His smile was met by a similarly lazy one from Archie, who reached up and swept a hand through Horatio’s sweat-laden curls.
“How did it take so long for us to get here?” Horatio asked, softly.
Archie considered for a moment, before a wicked glint appeared in his eye and he replied, “Perhaps your navigational skills are not all you believe them to be, Mr. Hornblower. I had this course plotted long ago.”