Archive of Our Own

When Wellard opened his eyes, he could scarcely see, but the thing that struck him the most was that he couldn't move at all. At first, he panicked. What could have happened? Where on earth was he? Then he tried to calm down, knowing little could be gained by alarming himself too much.

After taking a deep breath, he attempted to establish his current situation. Soon he realised that he had been stripped of his shirt, and that his legs were very securely tied at the ankles to beams behind him. The same was with his arms, which were spread out from his body and slightly raised, and bound at the wrist. He tried to move backwards, but his head knocked the wall behind him a little gently.

Wellard shuddered; he was completely trapped. But how?

He took another deep breath, and exhaled, and then he tried to remember where he had last been. Walking down towards his hammock...yes, that's right, and then he'd taken a small swig of laudanum to help him sleep...and after that, nothing.

Someone must have come upon him and carried him here and tied him up. Hit him on the head? Unlikely, his couldn't sense an injury? Perhaps he'd passed out from too much of the drug, whose effects he was feeling even now, for he when he tried to focus his vision, he found it incredibly difficult.

Slowly, however, he realised there was a man in front of him, perhaps three feet away, but who it was, he couldn't tell. It wasn't Mr Hornblower; the figure wasn't tall enough, and lacked Mr Hornblower's dark hair. Mr Kennedy, perhaps?

"Are you comfortable, Mr Wellard?"

The voice, however, confirmed that it was emphatically not Mr Kennedy. Deeper, harsher, and a lot less kind, it made Wellard's stomach sink.

"Mr Hobbs...I think my present predicament would indicate that I am far from comfortable."

Suddenly, a thought came to Wellard, and he winced, wishing that it wasn't the case, but knowing it was the only explanation.

"Do you have anything to do with this, Mr Hobbs?"

A low chuckle. "You're sharper than you let on"

"Then kindly let me go, sir."

Wellard tried to make his voice as flinty as possible, tried to match the menace that Hobbs managed to create even when saying 'good evening.' Unfortunately, that only seemed to amuse Hobbs further, for he laughed darkly.

"Let you go? So you can scamper off to be mothered by the lieutenants? That would make all my efforts for naught. I've put almost as much effort into these knots as I do when working the ship. I say almost, because you are much smaller than the Renown."

As Hobbs spoke, Wellard found that his mind and vision was clearing a little. He was able to focus better on Hobbs form, and eventually, he found himself able to see Hobbs' face. Most particularly, he could see the wicked smirk playing at Hobbs' mouth.

Wellard swallowed. "Why have you done this?"

Purposefully, slowly, Hobbs stepped forward, and lifted Wellard's chin with two fingers. He stroked Wellard's chin with his thumb, before saying, "All will become clear soon, Mr Wellard."

Hobbs dropped his hand away from Wellard's chin, stood directly in front of him, and began.

He ran his hands along Wellard's arms, his fingers only ghosting Wellard's skin. Wellard trembled at the touch, so light that it almost tickled. Then Hobbs' hands glided across Wellard's chest, tracing his collar bone, before sliding down his chest.

"I think you're enjoying this, boy."

"You are very mistaken, sir." Wellard tried to make the last word seem as much like an insult as possible.

Hobbs snickered. "You speak one thing, and yet your body says something quite different." And Hobbs flicked one of Wellard's nipples with his thumb, and Wellard realised they were hard, and standing to attention.

Wellard had never been able to hide his blush. His skin was far too pale, and so prone to redness that he'd wondered several times whether going to sea where the sun beat down on him all day had been the wisest choice of career. Though frankly, what other choice had he had?

So when he blushed at that moment, it was profuse, and made him hot and uncomfortable. And he felt 100 times worse when Hobbs grinned with quite triumph.

"Oh yes, you certainly are enjoying this." Hobbs flicked the other nipple. "You're enjoying the touch of another man. Shame on you, boy, to be so...aroused." With that, Hobbs squeezed both of Wellard's nipples, hard. The sensation began as pleasure and quickly shifted to pain, so much so that Wellard cried out--

--only to find his mouth covered by Hobbs' own. Wellard's cry muffled against Hobbs' lips, and he felt it disappear completely as Hobbs' tongue invade and explore. Hobbs' fingers were still at his hard nipples, now rolling them around in tiny circles. It was not painful at all now; now it only felt so good that the sensation went straight to his groin, and began to tingle on the base of his spine.

Still, Wellard tried to turn his head away, and eventually succeeded, but when he did, Hobbs suddenly bit down on the spot where his neck met his shoulder. Before he could even make a sound of surprise, one of Hobbs' hands was at his mouth, stifling the cry that had turned into a whimper.

This time...the pain was mingled with pleasure, and it gave Wellard a sudden clarity. He could see Hobbs' arm, the blue of his jacket, the individual threads of his blond hair...and when Hobbs looked up after releasing him from that tantalising bite, Wellard saw his fierce electric blue eyes, full of determination rather than the pleasure that Wellard, despite himself, was feeling.

Hobbs ran one hand down the length of Wellard's body, and he briefly brushed the growing bulge that felt enormously apparent to Wellard. Another smirk from Hobbs made it clear that he must have seen it too. Then Hobbs opened up the fold of Wellard's trousers. Wellard felt his hard member tumble free, felt the cool air on it. He shuddered as he heard Hobbs whistle mockingly.

"Not very large, but oh so eager...much like yourself, I think..."

Hobbs' hand hovered over Wellard's shaft. Wellard bit his lip, and strained against his bounds again. He wasn't sure if he wanted to move away from Hobbs or towards him, into his hand. But he could barely move, so instead he spoke.

"What are you going to do, Mr Hobbs?"

His voice wavered slightly. Was it fear, or had the sensations that Hobbs had subjected him to made him crazy for more?

Hobbs rolled his eyes, and rested one hand on the beam just above Wellard's bound arm.

"You aren't that naïve, are you, boy?"

Then with this free hand, Hobbs reached down, cupping Wellard's balls in his hand, only barely touching them. Wellard twitched, inhaling sharply between his teeth. The nearness and the feeling of Hobbs not-quite holding those delicate organs was excruciating. Hobbs began to rub his thumb across them, and then squeezing rhythmically, each time making Wellard gasp and shudder. He whimpered when Hobbs missed a beat, only to be startled with four even harder squeezes that felt as if he could have broken the ropes from the shooting tingles it sent up his body.

"Oh yes, that's right, that's just what you want, isn't it?"

Wellard mewled when Hobbs let his balls go, only to tremble again when Hobbs began running two fingers down the length of his shaft. It was slow, so terribly slow, that again Wellard tried to urge his hips further into Hobbs' hand. Hobbs only chuckled, and began running one finger tip over the head, all around it, before moving to press his thumb against the very tip from which pale juices were beginning to secrete. Hobbs rubbed the liquid over the head, while Wellard held back his cry to beg. He would not beg for more, no matter how good it felt.

Without warning, Hobbs grasped hold of Wellard's entire length. Wellard jerked back, bumping his head slightly against the wall, but not feeling that so much as the marvellous sensation of Hobbs hand coursing his member, up and down, pausing occasionally to play with the head, to bring Wellard's foreskin over the top and back down the length.

Wellard gave himself over to Hobbs ministrations, allowing himself to feel each murmur of pleasure traversing through his whole body. He noticed absently that the gunner's hands, though rough, were elegant and long, an unexpected feature of the otherwise robust and harden man. With that thought, Wellard was hardly surprised then that Hobbs was so skilled at this task.

--

The only part of Hobbs that moved was his hand; he stayed entirely motionless apart from that. He watched as Wellard tried to move his hips into his touch more, even as he couldn't.

Seeing Wellard on the brink, his body taut and wanting to writhe with the sensation, but unable to because of the ropes, made his own prick strain tight against his trousers. But he didn't let on that Wellard's arousal was affecting him so.

Meanwhile, the boy continued to refuse to beg him for more. As he had held back his tears as much as possible after Sawyer had had him beaten. It quietly impressed Hobbs, but he wouldn't say, wouldn't give Wellard any indication that he thought of him anymore than nothing.

Still though...the boy was rather pretty, so much like a girl. Such beautiful porcelain-pale skin and bright red lips. Now Wellard's skin was flushed pink with arousal and his lips seemed redder and fuller than before, and opened with his frantic gasps, such a lovely welcoming mouth...

Hobbs leaned forward, hand still moving, and snatched Wellard's lips up as he had earlier to silence him. This time, the boy accepted his mouth without hesitation, and Hobbs was sure he would have stumbled into his arms had he not been bound to the wall (the knots were holding marvellously well, if he did say so himself).

Teasing the cavity of Wellard's mouth with this tongue, Hobbs withdrew, and met Wellard's eyes, which were wet with excitement and slightly hazy, no doubt with the laudanum with which that drunk moron Dr Clive had pumped both Wellard and his captain.

At last, Hobbs spoke. "You want release, don't you, Mr Wellard? Do you want me to give you your moment of ecstasy?"

Wellard's mouth fell open completely, and he seemed to rage against what he didn't want to say, but the words came out, strangled and hoarse. "Mr Hobbs, please, oh god, I beg you, please!"

With that, Hobbs felt a blossoming triumph in his chest. "Of course, Mr Wellard..."

And he slowed the pumping action of his hand down considerably. "...if you tell me who pushed the Captain."

Wellard groaned, and he swore, something that surprised Hobbs, and yet shouldn't have. It wasn't as if the boy was that ignorant of the workings of a ship at sea.

Suddenly, Wellard began to laugh, darkly and sardonically. The sound was one Hobbs was familiar with, in himself, in Randall, in even in Captain Sawyer sometimes, but not from the seemingly angelic Wellard.

"Why are you laughing, boy?" Hobbs hissed, bringing his face right up to he was almost nose to nose with Wellard.

"If that is how you wish to torture me, sir, then I fear you'll have to let me go."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm as drunk with laudanum tonight as I was when the captain fell. Do you think my word counts for so much? The ravings of a drugged man are about as useful as the rantings of a deranged captain."

Hobbs instantly withdrew from Wellard and slapped him across the face. Wellard's head snapped to one side, but he quickly turned back to face Hobbs, and he snorted again in the same tone.

"How dare you!" Hobbs hissed.

"At least I am not blind to see it--"

Hobbs launched forward and grabbed Wellard's chin, utterly furious now. "Shut up!"

His anger now need release as much as his prick did, and Hobbs knew just what was needed for both. Hobbs whipped out his knife, and he unlashed Wellard from the beams, throwing the boy forward onto the floor. The ropes smack the boards, as did Wellard's body seconds later. Wellard groaned, and quickly tried to get up, but Hobbs fell onto to him, pressing his knee into Wellard's back. He knew the boy, slender and lithe, was no match for his size.

Roughly, he pulled Wellard around so Hobbs was kneeling between his legs. He clutched Wellard's hips. It was all he needed to do to stop the struggling boy from getting away.

"I should have started this way, made you beg for me to stop, rather than for me to continue."

"Mr Hobbs--"

"Be quiet!"

Hobbs pulled Wellard's trousers down past his buttocks...and revealed the ugly lashes as the result of his beating.

That gave Hobbs some pause.

The marks marred Wellard's otherwise exquisite body, and Hobbs ran his fingers along the space where the boy's back met the curve of his buttocks, the space that had not been damaged by Captain Sawyer's...

Hobbs shook off the thought, and pulled the trousers down further still, so they came to Wellard's knees. His thighs were beautiful, slight and yet still sinewy. Hobbs allowed himself a moment to let go one hand, and brush the inside of one perfect thigh. Delightfully, Wellard trembled, the sight of which made Hobbs' prick harder yet.

"I really should have begun with this," Hobbs whispered. "I will only stop when you tell me exactly what I want to know."

--

Wellard clawed at the ground, tried to pull himself away from Hobbs, but the larger man held his hips fast. His desire for Hobbs to allow his release was giving way to something more frightening, even as the touch of his inner thigh had sent delightful tremours over his body.

Momentarily, Hobbs released the hold on one side of Wellard. Wellard then heard a rustle of material, and felt Hobbs pressed against his buttocks, stinging as Hobbs' body rubbed against his wounds.

Then he felt a warm, hard length of flesh against the place were the cheeks of his buttocks met, and he knew exactly what it was Hobbs had planned.

Wellard swallowed, and again tried to pull way, but was held tightly still.

Quickly, his cheeks were parted by Hobbs member, and soon Hobbs was pressing it against the entrance to Wellard's body. Wellard gasped from surprise while Hobbs pressed it against the opening a couple more times...and then Wellard froze in shock when Hobbs' force his shaft slid him.

Wellard instinctively resisted the invasion, and he tried to stretched away, but Hobbs pressed forward. The pain was sharp and burning, unlike anything he'd ever felt before, but Wellard strangled his cry, fearing Hobbs might strike him again if he did.

Another thrust, and Wellard felt both the stinging pain....but there was also a spot that had sent an unexpected tingle deep within him. He'd heard enough of the act that Hobbs was performing on him, but had never known there was to be any...pleasure from it. Or was that just chance?

"And how is this, boy? I bet you aren't enjoying this nearly as much as before."

Wellard didn't know how to respond. His silence earned him three sharp thrusts, and again his wounds stung as before, but each thrust hit that same delicious spot which made him gasp. Not just chance then. Then a fourth that went in deep, and Hobbs did not draw back as he had done before. Instead, he leant forward over Wellard's back, his head bent and his lips brushed against Wellard's ear.

"Answer me, and I'll stop."

"I don't...ahhh!"

Five thrusts this time. Hobbs' new angle meant the thrusts rubbed the spot in a different way. Oh, that was even better. He whimpered when Hobbs paused yet again.

"Again, Mr Wellard...who pushed the Captain?"

What could Wellard say? He honestly did not know; he had been telling Hobbs the truth about what he'd seen that night. But with Hobbs' hard shaft buried deep inside him, Hobbs performing such acts on him to drive him wild with desire...there was really only one way to answer.

Wellard turned his head, his eye catching the sight of one of Hobbs', and he said, tauntingly, "Do you think that after being beaten this is so terribly painful? That I'm going to acquiesce to your wishes?"

With that, Hobbs snarled. "Have it your way, boy."

Then he jerked Wellard's hips towards his own body. Wellard moaned, turning his head away to conceal his smile.

And then he couldn't stop moaning at all when Hobbs began furiously thrusting against that glorious spot over and over and over.

--

Wellard's hole was so tight and firm around his prick that Hobbs had to steel himself not to come too quickly. He wanted to devour those sounds Wellard emitted, want to savour the warmth of the boy's body...oh how he enjoyed taking this from Wellard. He couldn't tell if it was from pain or pleasure that Wellard cried out, but frankly, he didn't care.

Hobbs ran his nails across Wellard's shoulders, down along his arms, till he held Wellard's wrists down, marvelling at the smoothness of skin still unused to the sea. The gesture left faint red traces, but Wellard didn't seem to notice, apparently too caught up with Hobbs moving inside him.

He changed his tactics. For a few moments, Hobbs slowed down, carefully sliding himself all the way into Wellard and almost out again, feeling the head of his prick not quite emerge from Wellard's hole. This he did several times, and he felt Wellard relax just a little...and when the boy was panting like a puppy, Hobbs resumed his total barrage into Wellard, and the boy cried out louder and more frantically than before.

Eventually, Hobbs released one arm, reached around in front of Wellard, and finding the boy's still-hard prick, took hold of it firmly.

"Oh God, Mr Hobbs!"

"Yes, boy, that's it!" Hobbs pumped the organ up and down, in rhythm with his thrusts. Because despite his initial intention to leave the boy unsatisfied, even more now Hobbs wanted to see the boy come, to be so driven to distraction by him that he couldn't help his own climax. He wanted to see that beautiful body writhing beneath him with ripples of such intense pleasure that--

Suddenly, Wellard arched beneath him, and moaned as he'd never before. Hobbs jerked a little, exhaled sharply. "Oh God, yes!"

And just as quickly, Hobbs felt the boy clench around his own prick, felt Wellard's release spurting warm onto his hand, and left his prick being drawn deeper into Wellard with each clench, and felt the delicious tingling spread of pleasure rush through his whole body.

Hobbs collapsed on top of Wellard, pressing them both to the floor. Wellard made no sound of protestation, seeming to take the whole weight of Hobbs with ease. They both panted, almost in time. Hobbs' other hand was still clutching Wellard's wrist.

It was only when Hobbs withdrew from Wellard that he released him. He pushed back from Wellard, kneeling, still catching his breath.

After a long moment, Wellard rolled onto his side, revealing his spent prick and the evidence of his enjoyment. His looked shattered and shaken...and yet when he looked over at Hobbs, even as his lovely eyes seemed wet and delicate, there was something unbreakable in them that made Hobbs started a little. So much so that it could have made Hobbs hard again if Hobbs hadn't stopped himself by forcing a harsh grin.

"So," he said, trying to measure his haggard breath, "how does it feel to have been taken like a girl, Mr Wellard?"

Wellard matched Hobbs expression all too accurately, and as he pulled his trousers up, he chuckled. "How does it feel to have given enjoyment to a man, Mr Hobbs?"

Hobbs narrowed his eyes, and began tucking himself away into his own trousers. "Oh shut up, boy."

That made Wellard laugh, and he rolled onto his back, running his hand over his face, shaking his head.

"You are a strange man, Mr Hobbs. You act like a thug and bully, and yet..."

When Wellard didn't finish his sentence, Hobbs shot the boy a demanding look. Wellard winked at him.

"No. I will not finish. And I still will not answer you. Not now, not ever."

Hobbs clenched his fist, and was almost tempted to beat Wellard for that...but he now saw that the boy's slight frame and beautiful face were the perfect mask for a far greater defiance than he was sure even the lieutenants had seen.

And Hobbs was now sure that no matter how much he tried, he was not going to break Wellard in any way.

Hobbs stood up. Normally, staring down at someone he'd just had his way with made him feel powerful, strong, sure of himself. But as he turned to leave Wellard to pick himself up, to find his discarded shirt and jacket in the corner of the hold Hobbs had brought him to, he felt spent, and tired, and so uncertain about the future that he almost couldn't bear to go back to check on his captain for fear his world might completely fall apart.