As you all should already know, we don't own the Hornblower series, nor the characters, though we wish we did. If you weren't looking for mature slash, you might want to leave, and what the hell are you doing here anyway?
For all the rest, happy reading, and please, give us plenty of feedback!
This is set between the fourth and fifth movies, in that five year gap that went unexplained for so long.
Erotica is our specialty, and how we love it.
Born to Hang
Sweat beaded on a convulsing forehead as beastly noises groaned from within. "Archie…"
He knew it didn't hurt him – unless he struck himself on the deck or bit his tongue it wouldn't do him much harm. Not physically at least.
"Archie… damn it, Archie, wake up. " He held him in his arms, the rapid flailing calming as fingers caressed damp hair, a sweat soaked shirt fisted in an effort to keep him in the hammock. "Simpson! God, no… not him… Please, it was me… punish me…"
"Easy… easy…" God, why hadn't he simply told him the truth of the matter when he had the chance?
"Horatio… Please forgive me. 'Ratio…" Suddenly, a hand found his jaw, stroking almost tenderly in shaky, tear soaked trembling.
"Archie…" he murmured gently… the boy still hadn't fully come to his senses. "Archie, what's to forgive?" He seemed to be calming, the tremors in his limbs had slowed to a slight tremble- he'd be fully responsive in a few moments, cold, confused, and frightened.
"No- I can't-No-can't…"Murmuring with frustration, Horatio leaned in closer, breathing in the vomit and sweaty smells of Archie's seizure racked body. "Archie, I'm here. Tell me… I promise, I'll forgive you… But you have to tell me what you did."
"God, H'ratio, I… I'm so… I've been such a filthy… fil…fi…"
His voice trailed off breathily, and his eyes seemed to focus, round, wet, and fearful.
"Wha-what happened?"
"Archie… Are you alright?"
It was almost like it had never happened. Every time, he would awake as from a deep, deep slumber, with no recollection of the prior events. But this time was different- His eyes were cold, haunted. He remembered something… Horatio was sure of it.
"I'm cold…"
The dark-haired boy lunged for his jacket, and stretched it over the hammock, offering a little extra warmth that the thin, rancid blankets could hardly provide.
"Better?"
Archie swallowed hard and nodded, as the other built up his courage.
"I'm sorry… Archie, But… "
"I know."
Hardened words, almost as glass shards on his conscience. He watched in agony as he swallowed, looking up into his eyes, trusting as a puppy, scared and hurt as nothing had hurt before… He never wanted to see that look again.
"Do you really want to know, H'ratio?"
His lips stiffened. Every inch of his mind was screaming at him to say no. But God damn, this was ARCHIE…
"Do you think there's much to shock me any longer?"
"What a nice sentiment." The face that turned away, full of malice and bitterness… It was almost more that he could take.
"Damn it, Archie, tell me!" His patience had reached its end.
His whole body went iron stiff, and he turned away.
"Or what?" His voice was thick.
There were no words, just a flurry of movement as Horatio grasped at the hammock , lips inches from Archie's, eyes searching for something, anything to latch onto- It was then he realized that he could do nothing… Nothing could reach him… Whatever had happened to his friend… He was no longer that boy he had loved…
"NO-DON'T- TOUCH ME!"
He flew back as if burned, leaving his sweetheart sobbing like a small child, his face to the wall. Shaking, he seized his spare coat and rushed to the main deck, his own fears chasing him all the way to the main-mast.
Sleepless nights… more and more nights spent on deck, waiting for something that never materialized, waiting to be saved from what was increasingly becoming a terrible nightmare…
"Sir- You've got to sleep, sir… You're becomin' worse of a ghost than that Mr. Kennedy, sir. Please, it's for your own damn good…"
God, why did they even have to mention his name? It only brought un-wanted pain…
"Inform the third lieutenant he's relieved of the watch; I'll remain for eight bells."
Stiles seemed to steel himself.
"No, sir… you are not fit for duty, sir. If I may speak freely, you'd be more bloody likely to let the frogs slip past right now, sir. You've got to SLEEP, sir- you're killing yourself, ."
He could have flogged him for disregard of an order – but what was the point? He sighed and turned to the rail, ignoring the ratings muttering behind him. If he wanted to bloody-well work himself into the woodwork of the Indy, then by God's blood –
"Your watch ended two hours ago."
"God's teeth! What are you doing here, Archie? I thought you were down below…"
He was limping, as a man thrust from the pits of despair into the cold light of day.
"Stiles told me you were working yourself to death on deck. So-I'll take your damn watch."
"No, Mr. Kennedy, I cannot let you do so in your condition. Go- Leave me. "
"No. "
"Do you wish me to make that an order?"
"Do you wish me to declare you unfit for service?"
"God, man! "
He conceded, then. There was no use for a bloody standoff in the middle of a cold night-it would come to nothing.
"Kennedy, you will come with me. Stiles-inform Mr. Blakeney he has the watch."
"Aye, aye, sir…" He muttered. "Pleasant dreams."
The ward-room was deserted when they arrived- so much the better, Horatio silently fumed. He hated humiliating a fellow officer publically.
Archie only stared at him emotionlessly as he wheeled around, face stormy.
"Need I remind you, Mr. Midshipman Kennedy, that as acting lieutenant I could have you shod for impertinence, or flogged for disrespect of rank?"
"My God, Horatio...I thought we were friends! I thought that you, perhaps, would-"
"Would what? Ignore the articles for my own benefit? Are you utterly mad?"
"Perhaps I am! You know that I am! I thought you cared more for me than your stupid regulations- what kind of a man are you, Hornblower? I thought I knew you for more than a pussyfooting bigot!"
A sound like a fish hitting water exploded through the room as bone collided with soft flesh –Archie reeled back against the table, blood spilling from his split lip.
"Archie… I'm so sorry… I didn't- Didn't mean… Please… "
"Now who needs forgiving, H'ratio?"
He cradled the boy against him and cupped a hand around his bleeding mouth. The wetness seeped between his fingers, and he felt an irrational disgust… he was one who'd brought it about, in any case…
Lips met in hasty, shaking surrender.
He could taste the blood –momentarily repulsive, and then shockingly intimate. Archie moved against him, almost as if in protest, almost as if giving himself over to the sensations- and suddenly, he broke away, a hand covering his mouth, touching the blood at his lips.
"Archie… why?"
Why did you break away- why did this-Why?
"Please, I- I just –"
There was moisture glimmering in his eyes…
"Archie…"
"No. Don't ask me. Please."
"Just- kiss me, Archie… "
"N-No…"
Damn him to hell… He reached forward, grasping at Archies shoulder's, bringing him forward, toppling him into his lap as his tongue lunged forward to lap at the blood that was congealing on his love's lip.
"I'm- I'm sorry, Archie, I can't-"
The boy screamed against his mouth, tears slipping from between clenched eyelids as hard fists beat at his shoulders… Finally he seemed to exhaust himself, and only struggled weakly as Horatio pushed him back onto the oak table, still gulping down his lips.
"Archie… You can… Please, I –If you don't want me…"
He sobbed a last time, and yanked the dark-headed officer against him so fiercely the other almost had the air knocked from his lungs…
"Damn it – just take me! Please, don't let them - not anymore, please!"
"Tell me, Archie. Tell me what they did… I'll save you, I promise… You'll be free of them… Just tell me, I can set it all to rights…"
He stroked his hair, soft, silken hair, over skin as smooth as a babe's. Oh God, what had happened to them- had he gone mad with grief and shock, that he would- He had never…
Archie whimpered, flat on his back on the table-top, russet-gold hair spilling over his face.
"You-you won't damn me, once you know?"
His sweetheart melted, tears welling in his own dark eyes.
"Has this anything to do with Simp- "
The boy moaned, half-smiling in an odd way.
"It would be no secret if it were, H'ratio – every man on the ship knew of that…"
God, no… He wouldn't have been so disgusted if it WERE Simpson, at least then, he would have some semblance of an excuse…
"Tell me, Archie… Tell me and I'll set it to rights… Simpson is dead, my love… You can tell me, and have no fear of retribution…"
He swallowed hard.
"You remember, in El Ferrol- when you took Hunter's guilt on your own head?"
The boy nodded vigorously.
"Of course, but what- "
"No, listen –I had never admired you more, than at that moment. And…" His voice cracked. "I had never feared for you so strongly."
Oh God… Fear began to creep slowly into his heart. What-
"But-"
"NO! Let me finish- please, I need- "
He shuddered, his brows tight, and briefly Horatio feared he might fall into a fit, but he calmed quickly.
"It's true, Masserado was never afraid of cruelty. And he knew how… how to harness men's hatred."
He held him close to his breast as words poured forth from his lips- silently taking every word, every aching agony, every sob, into the depths of himself, filling up as if he were taking on water, about to sink into the abyss of the sea of despair.
"What are you weeping for?"
It wasn't a jest, or a mockery- simply an honest, confused query.
"For you…"
"Don't."
"Why-?"
"It's no more than a catamite can expect, H'ratio – it was my own wantonness that made him throw me to his men. I deserved it… don't look at me that way, you know it's true…"
In all honesty, Horatio had only been staring at him in a stunned silence, desperately wishing he could personally rend whatever beast had put these ideas into Archie's mouth.
"God… no…" He groaned with the effort of letting the words come from him… "What the hell do you think you're saying… God damn it, Archie… You can't think like that-You… just can't- you didn't-"
He realized that he was sobbing completely incoherently, words bubbling from the depths of his soul, from the wellspring of emotion dwelling beneath every pore of his humanity…
"Don't. It – It doesn't matter any longer."
"DOESN'T – "
It was all he could do not to thrust him down on the oak table and tear him to pieces. With a final gut wrenching cry, he lunged forward and captured his lips with his own, teeth clashing in a desperate plea for passion, for forgiving, forgetting… Tongues met in a flurry of motion, and caresses became more and more ardent as groans of fear and love mixed in the fury of the storm winds.
A roar split their eardrums, a splintering of wood and metal, and razor sharp pain blinded them both to the earth, before all was cold, quiet blackness.
"Archie- Archie!"
Blurry shapes above him became sharp-
"Stiles- what the bloody hell shot at us? "
Where was he? Wood was splintered around him, blood soaking into what used to be hard wood, now nothing but splinters of oaken table.
"We've been trying to figure that out, sir- Mr. Blakeney ain't seen nothing- he don't see nothing, sound asleep he was, I woke him just before the bloody thing shot."
"I can't see a damn thing, what side did she hit?"
"Port, sir, we're thinking she's a dago, sir."
"Well, where the hell are we?"
"The bloody Indy!"
"That's not what I meant, Stiles. What is our current position?"
"Northwest by west of Cadiz, on route South, sir. "
"Damn. She is bloody Spanish, Let's hope she wasn't the fucking Orienté."
The rating raised an eyebrow at the language – pretty words not often heard from an officer's tongue- but shock could make any man forget himself.
"Where's Kennedy?"
"Here sir!"
"Thank heaven above. Our friends have given us a little present, Archie… are you going to be alright?"
"Never better."
His brows narrowed… should he have been breathing so shallowly, as if the act itself caused agony…
"Archie…"
"It's nothing…" he mumbled weakly, his face glistening with perspiration, seconds before he collapsed to the deck, a dark stain soaking through the back of his wool jacket.
"Damn, Damn and blast the stupid… Archie, you stupid, stupid man… Surgeon! SURGEON, goddamn you cocksucker, come here before…!"
He was screaming mindlessly, someone pulled Archie from his arms and he flailed like a wild animal – one of the ratings seized him from behind and held him firm…
"Easy, easy there sir… He's in God's hands…"
"Where-where are they taking him?"
"Where he needs to go- Sir, please, we need you to calm yourself. Forget him for now, sir- we need you."
Dust and grit exploded in his throat, his eyes burning from sulfur and smoke as he ran blindly, shoving men and wood and iron out of his way. Had they been boarded? Was it port or larboard? Where was the action? Who was injured, or killed?
The next eight hours were nothing but blood, the stink of sweat and gunpowder, and the heat of flames licking at his flanks. The boarding party told the crewmen later, it was like Lucifer in Hell had possessed the boy's mind as they raided the vessel – he seemed to take a delight in spilling the blood of every Don he could reach, as though each had harmed him personally.
And he fell on the deck, utterly exhausted, with every ounce of energy spent, victorious and covered in scarlet.
He awoke to the smell of smoke, and to the sound of screaming.
"Hold him!"
Nausea rolled in his belly, as something seared his left shoulder, and the source of the screams became sickeningly obvious.
A stream of incoherent expletives erupted from him as pain shot through him to the core… His babbling rushed through his ears, he was screaming for Archie, for his mother… For God to damn him to eternity in hell, for the death of Masserado to last as long as this pain, that he would burn in hell for what he had done to his Archie… His Archie…
Suddenly his eyes opened, and he found himself staring into Percy Blakeney's cherubic face.
"He's alive!"
"Of course he bloody well is! This is Mr. Hornblower, sir. He can't be killed; he's got nine lives like a cat."
"Eight, now, Matthews. Whe-where's Mr. Kennedy? Is he-"
The surgery went quiet.
"Let me see him."
There was a murmur of protest.
"Let me SEE HIM!"
"That-that wouldn't be best, sir…"
He was about to make a sharp reply, when a sharp sound – like the crying of a wounded kitten- reached his ear.
No. No- it couldn't be. Everything froze. Numbness took him into its tender darkness, and he moved, slowly, towards the sound.
"YOU CAN'T WALK - !"
"Get the fuck out of my way!"
That shut them up. He refused all forms of help, and spent a half-hour of Hell rolling out of the hammock. His feet dragged numbly across the deck, his head pounding, and he distantly saw his own hand shove aside a blood-splattered curtain…
A distant cry rang out, and he covered the limp, blood spattered body with his own, ripping away at the sheet of linen covering his sweetheart's body… puncture wounds littered his chest, wooden splinters poking from soft, rich skin-
"Surgeon! Now!"
"There's nothin' we can do but pray now, sir-"
"Get me a surgeon, right now."
There was something lethal, something deep and powerfully dangerous, that they complied almost immediately. The surgeon shook his head in contempt and hopelessness as he began to cut into Archie's prone, unfeeling body.
Blood trickled from his slack lips and he moaned unconsciously. Two loblollies immediately pinned him to the scarlet soaked table, and his eyelids flickered…
"H'ratio… Hor…a..ti…"
"Shh… I'm here, Archie, I'm here… "
His mouth opened, blood gurgling in his throat, convulsing with the Hell he knew was taking over his lover's body.
"Trust me, Archie- just trust me…"
His hand grasped weakly at Horatio's and he smiled, teeth coated in crimson.
"Bet I look… like the devil…"
Bless him, never failing to display that brave front… he smiled painfully.
"I've looked worse."
He grinned, wincing slightly, before his eyes went round in agony.
"Damn it, Mr. Hornblower, hold him down. The worst is yet to come."
Five hours later, Archie was half-swooning in the berth, bleary-eyed and mumbling.
His sweetheart caressed his russet hair, and sighed. He had a high fever- and had had it since the mostly successful operation. If only God would take this pain from him…
"You can't leave me now… Please, hold on…"
"Mr. Hornblower, sir…"
"Yes, what is it, Mr. Blakeley?"
"You're needed on deck, sir."
His eyes fluttered with a barely perceptible groan.
"Later."
He distantly realized he'd ignored an order; yet for some reason he gave it no thought.
"Sir, you MUST come to the deck NOW."
"No."
"Sir, Bring him with you if you'd like, but you're needed on deck. Now, before the frogs sink us, damn you!"
That was madness, they were humoring him… but God damn, first the dons, now the frogs.
The deck was amazingly calm for one so near to destruction from a fatal enemy. He looked out toward the port bow, and watched as the frigate came closer by the moment. A beautiful ship, in full sail and ready.
"Damn."
"My words exactly, Mr. Hornblower. "
He struggled to keep his head clear, trying to drive the memory of that beautiful, smooth body from his mind… mangled and torn by grape-shot and splinter.
"Re-load."
The order was carried through the decks like wild-fire, and once more he felt the familiar rush of energy at the heat of battle… a faint smile graced his face at the memory of a blood-drenched Archie, grinning from ear to ear as he chattered eagerly about his first two kills – or was it only one?
"Fire."
Gunpowder and lead exploded, wood splintered with the catastrophic force as cannons erupted, ship lurching with each staggering blow.
"Aren't we close enough to board, sir?"
"Mr. Hornblower! Are you insane?"
"Perhaps, but it would ensure victory!"
"And the deaths of a third of our men!"
Horatio opened his mouth to respond , before a hand seized his arm.
"French boarding party at starboard, sir!"
"Damn it! All crew to the starboard side, make sure they're armed!" Captain Pellew turned to him with a look of cool civility. "It seems they took the opportunity. You'll have your action after all, Mr. Hornblower. "
"You should have heard the shots– like the thunder of God above."
He smiled genuinely for the first time in two days, a hand grasping the firm expanse of a shoulder through thick linen.
"Archie, you should have been there…"
"Aye, and died where I stood, holding my pistol with my crooked arm, unable to pull the trigger from pain! "
He laughed then, doubling into the body of his precious Horatio as pain took him in its white hot grasp. Tears, then, flowing as a stream, saturating his shirt in wetness.
"Shh… Archie…" Something snapped within him, and it was as if a powder keg had burst in his chest.
"Archie…"
Slowly, with painstaking care, he began to peel off the blood soaked linen covering his neck and chest, settling himself astride his lap to kiss every wound, every scar from the bloody shrapnel.
"Oh God, Oh…"
The murmur was quiet, but carried straight to Horatio's core with a jolt.
"I'm not hurting you?"
"God, no, Horatio! Just… God in Heaven, Horatio, I love you. "
His breath caught in his throat. "Wha-What?..."
Quiet groping behind piles of cable and sail rags was one thing, but this… this was a hanging offense…
"Horatio, articles be damned, I love you! Damn you, kiss me!"
"Quiet, please, Archie… You're going to get us killed!"
He smiled painfully.
"Does it matter?"
Horatio grinned reluctantly, stroking his darling's shot-riddled chest.
"No. Not much."
He couldn't admit to his love that he was afraid… so afraid that he would die, that he would hurt him, that dishonor would… All thought was cut off by a searing hand, warm and damp with sweat, as it met squarely with his behind.
"Oof – "
"Steady on, Mr. Haitch." He grinned, his hands working up the back of his jacket and tugging it from his shoulders. Horatio gasped, brown eyes wide as capstans as Archie's teeth met the buttons of his waistcoat, pulling each circle of brass from its individual slit… The fastenings on his trousers quickly met with a similar fate.
"Now, how am I to explain this-Ah!"
Curious fingers explored every crevice, every expanse of skin, and found tender nipples, pinching them between thumb and forefinger.
"Do me a favor and shut up, Horatio."
"Make me."
"As you wish, lieutenant…"
Archie had him flipped on his back in the berth within seconds, his lips clasped over his mouth until he thought he might choke… His naked, blood-scarred chest rubbing against sweat-soaked linen, hips humping desperately as though his very life depended upon it…
Horatio pushed against him, divesting himself of his shirt before pulling him back upon him, taking care not to pull at his injuries. Every thrust of hips made gasps escape from both men, and hands caressed scarred flesh with tender passion. He pulled at the fabric of Archie's trousers until it ripped, freeing him from constraint. Hard, throbbing flesh met with its counterpart.
"Gods, you're beautiful Archie…"
He smirked. "A skinny little boy."
Horatio grinned, a slender-fingered hand sliding from Archie's thigh to the tender skin just inside…
"Doesn't feel much like a little boy to me."
The wail of sheer ecstasy was almost worth death by hanging. Almost, but not quite. With a laughing protest, he reached a hand to cover his lover's -Oh God, his lover!-mouth, while stroking him with the other.
Archie moaned against the fingers at his lips, hips rocking, and made no effort to fight back when Horatio turned him over gently…
"Huh… H'ratio, I – Oh God, I think I'm – "
He rammed his tongue into Archie's mouth, recognizing the danger signs…
Idle hands clasped on his shoulders as he shook, wildly contorting in ultimate pleasure, friction building between erect flesh until it became too much… Archie broke away from his mouth, his teeth finding purchase on Horatio's neck as he exploded.
"Huh…huh…huh…"
Horatio's eyes fluttered at the wet panting sounds against his throat… music of the Gods…
"Ready?"
Archie pulled back, puppy-eyed and glowing.
"And cleared for action…"
A trembling hand met his cock, and it wasn't long before he spilled his seed over his lover's tensing stomach.
They both fell back onto the thin mattress, limbs entwined, and gasping for breath…
"Are- 're you alright?"
"As right as rain Archie… As right as rain."
The ink on the transfer documents hadn't yet dried, the wax was still soft… Horatio had felt his heart nearly leap into his throat, and the newly minted lieutenant Kennedy had been grim-faced for almost eight hours now. Both knew that ship transfer was an expectation at some point in the Navy, but the Indy was home… A haven after the dark Hell of Justinian.
"Well, Horatio? Why keep the good news a secret! Tell me, damn it!"
A wry smile leapt to the corners of his mouth.
"We're on the same ship- and I'm promoted to third lefttenant!"
Archie yelped and jumped into the man's arms, legs wrapping his waist.
"Luckiest bastard of us all, as always!"
"Yes, I've got you in my arms, and we- I can't believe it! It's got to be too good to be true!"
He lifted the smaller man by his thighs, kissing him full on the mouth.
Arms tightened around a strong back – he'd grown so much in the eight years he'd known him… It was selfish, he knew, but he couldn't help but miss the slender boy of sixteen, his flesh still London pale, a hairless chest only just beginning to broaden… The way they tumbled in his hammock every night they could force their watches to correlate, hard, sweat-slick bodies rubbing frantically with stifled moans and gasps…
Kennedy raised an eyebrow, glancing downwards slightly… Damn, he had to stop thinking this way…
Horatio felt the change with a hearty laugh.
"Well, well, Mr. Kennedy. I see you're doing your duty…stiff at attention, you might say!"
His eyes closed in enjoyment as he kissed his lover, caressing the broad and hair dusted chest, biting at his throat.
"Always… for a superior… for you…"
His voice had gone soft and breathy, and Horatio was becoming increasingly aware of the warm, animal scent emanating from his gold hair…
No… not here, not now…
"Archie... you know I want to- you know I love you… but…"
"I know- not here, not now… But God, when?"
He smirked.
"I feel a thirst… care for a spot of rum? We dock at Portsmouth in the hour."
"I thirst for something else, my love…"
"The Inns can… care for many needs."
Archie sighed, and slapped at his arms to drop him. When he was on his feet again, he kissed him, long and slow.
"I don't know if I can wait an hour, H'ratio…"
"Well, you're going to have to, I'm needed on deck…"
"And I shall make it my mission to see you begging for me every second of that damned watch."
Horatio raised his eyebrows.
"I look forward to it."
And he left him, then… to the blasted deck, where his captain was waiting for him.
Five days into the new commission, both men were ready to fling themselves over the side rail.
There was a Hell on Earth – and it included separate quarters.
And then, the Captain! Such a pompous, old buffoon… and he couldn't trust anything that spoke any ounce of sense. But Horatio measured his thoughts. It would not do to think in such immaturity. Better, surely, to wait until there was such a time… And to swallow his pride for the sake of loyalty to his Captain.
"It can't last forever… they'll transfer us again within the year…"
Archie rolled his eyes with a groan. "You can't turn a blind eye to it, Horatio – the gun crew was pickled in rum this morning!"
"Far be it for me to criticize what my Captain decides to do with his stores of rum. No, Kennedy, That must be the end of it. "
The younger man was clearly fuming, but made no effort to retort.
Horatio glanced to the heavens, as if imploring. God, let him keep a shred of his sanity; for however long as he may require it.
God, it seems, had a different sort of idea. Foul winds found them unprepared, and ill fitted for such an endeavor.
Damn, damn, damn, damn.
The topsail had to be reefed, or the wind would make matchwood of their mainmast, the cables flogging themselves to pieces.
It should have been such a simple task –it was so simple, only this insane regime made it a difficulty and a risk. It was sheer common sense – it should not have cost a boy his life.
And as he fell, as he held the poor boy in his arms, and watched as his Captain ordered him to be thrown into the sea without a word of pity or a shred of remorse, he felt himself begin to die.
Blue eyes met his own nut brown, anger and pity the only readable emotions.
"Well? Do it!"
"Aye, aye, sir." And may you choke on it.
The body was heavy, and he stumbled with the weight – arms caught him before he could stumble.
Archie was soaked and trembling from obvious rage, but he contained himself until the corpse had splashed into the sea, and the watch was resumed.
"Damn him to hell…that poor boy shouldn't have had to-"
"Archie… That is sedition… "
"Indeed, and I pray the world knows it as such!"
"Archie-!"
His mouth snapped shut, jaw stiff. Every emotion was in his eyes however, and Horatio gave a resigned sigh.
"This is not about the death of a rating, or the ship's ranks – we both know that."
"Well, damn me for impatience, then, if you will."
"I'll damn you for nothing – " He grasped his arm and pulled him close, the shell of a pale ear close to his lips. "-tonight. The hold in the aft. Go by the side corridor and avoid the mess. I'll get us off watch."
A lone lantern burned in the darkened corridor, illuminating barrel upon barrel. A man's footsteps in the distance, as Horatio waited with baited breath, squatting in a corner, gradually growing more and more impatient.
"Is that you?"
"Yes…"
He sighed in three different kinds of relief, and grabbed his hand. "Come here…"
With a flurry of movement, the men grabbed at each other in silent passion, popping buttons in a rush to divest themselves of all barriers between their fleshes.
The rain had soaked them to the skin, and their mouths felt cold on naked flesh. Wet linen peeled deliciously from pebbled skin, their hair dripping over each other's fingers.
"Too long…" Archie whimpered like a child, crushing himself to his love, chest to chest, tongues weaving…
"Shut up, Archie…"
Hands found his lover's ample bottom, caressing and groping the familiar territory with a happy leisure, finding the flesh as responsive and tender as ever. Groans and pants met his every touch, and he bit his neck, his chest, as their throbbing cocks met.
They moaned simultaneously, lips colliding. Fingers dug into dark curls as Horatio palmed his chest mercilessly, swallowing Archie's croon when his hands found a brown-gold nipple- or two.
"B-bastard…"
"Do I have to command silence from you?"
"God, Horatio…"
His mouth found purchase over an erect nipple, and he sucked on it, swirling his tongue around the peak as Archie moaned beneath him, back arching in instinctual pleasure. He felt a hardness rubbing against the skin of his stomach, laughing in silent abandon. He did so love the feeling of his cock, hard against him, listing slightly to port.
"Tell me what you desire, Horatio, and then be quiet!"
"You."
He yelped when teeth scraped his skin, the sensations sending a current of powder sparks along every hair on his body.
"And…" Horatio grinned teasingly, "You have earned yourself an order of silence, Mr. Kennedy. "
His mouth found his cock, kissing the tip and licking the crevice quickly, just as he always liked it- He positively screamed as he took him into his mouth. Archie bucked into his mouth, thrusting wildly, shaking as he always did when so close to orgasm.
The delight was stolen almost as soon as it came, gone in a single instant – Archie wailed, all pretense at quiet abandoned.
"For mercy's sake…"
"Wh-wh-why -!"
"Be patient…"
Those firm, slender hands – that could wield a pen or a boarding pistol with equal grace- seized a thigh each and spread his legs as far as was comfortably possible…
"H'ratio…"
All pretext of politeness thrust asunder, he plunged, driving himself fully into the deep, rich depths of his lover, as he screamed in the torturous assault, body rejecting the intruder with a tightening that nearly sent him into the abyss of painful ecstasy.
A religious expletive or two escaped his lips, along with several that had perhaps not yet been coined.
He drove in a second time, realizing distantly that he'd not taken the time to ready Archie for the invasion… Dear Gods, the poor thing had to be in agony…
The squirms subsided as he relaxed around his thick member, grasping Horatio's shoulders so hard as to leave welts. He began to move against him, a gentle up and down motion that soon became a frantic rhythm.
"Huh…huh…huh…huh…"
The chant was a familiar one; he heard it from Archie's lips with every thrust – a soft panting with only a trace of a gasp and a sob… It was the only sound now, aside from his own semi-quiet grunts and the soft, wet sounds of copulation.
Damn, there wasn't much time… they both needed an end, and soon…
His hands slapped around the boy's waist with a squeak, and suddenly Archie found himself riding a storm no amount of ship years could ever have prepared him for.
With a palpable roar, Horatio exploded inside his lover, collapsing atop him in complete and utter exhaustion.
"Archie…"
"H'ratio…I…" His voice trembled, at least an octave higher than usual, and he couldn't help jumping when something- was it a finger?- brushed his belly. Horatio felt his heart sink slightly. Still sensitive, still aroused…
"I'll look after you, darling, but- the bells- we must be quick…"
"No, H'ratio, we must get back… musn't risk it."
"If you think I'm enough of a brute to – "
"No! Simply that we – OH!"
Two fingers slid inside him, crooked and twisted, and Archie could only lie wide-eyed on the floor as his friend and sweetheart explored his inner walls…
"There was a book on the Marie Galante… said it was only a small, little bump…"
Archie reared his hips as a fingertip touched something deep, deep inside that felt as though it might burst into flames, and take every organ in his gut with it.
He engorged, veins popping as his cock thickened , straining for release… and then, like fire spilling from a cannon, he exploded, sending fluids, hotter than lava, shooting forth in a great shaking of limbs.
The world spun as the young man, whipping boy for the captain, and still dousing himself with laudanum from the last flogging, watched the pompous gunhead walk towards him.
"Mr. Wellard!"
The man stank of rum, and of damp mildew sweat.
"I was expecting to see Mr. Hornblower on watch."
"Call of nature, Mr. Hobbs."
And how true that was!
The boy's stomach jumped into his throat the second the bull offered to stand watch… damn, damn, damn, if one fragment of this plan went awry - !
Briefly, he regretted mixing himself in this business, but he would walk over hot coals for both men… Perhaps especially…. No, he would not take liberties.
"Hhh… I… I can't…'Ratio, you devil…"
"Shush…"
The offending finger was still curling inside him, making him writhe and beg in strangled whispers as the tip brushed that tender little knot again and again and again…
And the damned bastard was still standing there, a self-satisfied smirk planted squarely on his thin, pasty lips, as he feigned surprise at the time on his cheap watch.
"Well, perhaps I should check the wardroom to see if Mr. Hornblower is alright."
"I-I hardly think that necessary, Mr. Hobbs."
He was fighting the urge to panic – perhaps he could distract him long enough to – no, no, they'd given him no indication of how long they'd be! Damn it all… but if he kept fibbing… no, Hobbs was his inferior in rank, there was nothing to- Oh damn! For the umpteenth time that month, Wellard fought the urge to collapse to the deck and sob.
"Well, we wouldn't want anything untoward to have happened, would we sir?"
As a poisonous viper suddenly strikes out, Hobb's face turned from a look of bored impatience to one of lethal danger.
"Where, are they, Mr. Wellard?"
The boy's jaw shook.
"I- I'm sure I don't – "
"Don't take me for a fool, little boy. We both understand my meaning."
" … As your superior, I must protest…"
It was as if he had stuck out, a visible blow was beginning to take effect on Hobb's countenance.
"Not for very much longer if you don't stand down, boy. Where-are-they?"
Something moved in the shadows, and Wellard felt his heart contract with raw terror.
" I- I -!"
Hobb's steel-grey eyes flashed, and the mid finally broke, babbling like a sailor's parrot, and his heart splitting a little further with every word.
The gunner smirked coldly.
"My thanks, Mr. Wellard, sir. Randall," he called over his shoulder, as the burly rating staggered drunkenly from the shadows. "Keep an eye on this little pigeon until I return."
"God, Horatio, I love you…"
They were lying in the briefest for moments, afterglow spreading around them in happy bliss, laying in each other's arms, bare flesh caressing bare flesh in an effort to keep the memory lodged until the next time they were able to meet- and who knew when that could be, with the Captain becoming more and more paranoid by the day? They were more likely to hang for mutiny than-
Lips closed over his own, effectively ending his train of thought… Jesus, the man could work some black magic with his tongue… Archie blushed at his own thoughts, eyelashes fluttering girlishly, and his darling only smirked into the kiss, his elegant countenance gilded by the lantern light…
Shouts and loud footsteps erupted to the port side, and with a flurry of movement, Horatio was upright, pulling his lover with him as he searched franticly for his trousers.
"Damn!"
One of them – they were never certain which – fumbled in the semi-darkness, and struck a bucket with a bare-foot. The wood clattered on the deck, loud as one of the bosun's whistles, and Horatio felt his eyes drift shut despairingly.
"Run, Archie. Run, Damn you!"
"No, if we're going down, we go together…"
"Oh, he's a right gentleman!" a harsh voice called out, followed by the sound of a musket being cocked.
"Looks after his missus, he does!"
The marine had a filthy smile on his face that Judas in Hell would be proud of, and it only widened when Hobb's appeared beside him, lantern in hand.
"Mr. Hobbs…Don't make me pull rank on you…"
Archie's voice was full of malice, bravely standing against the assaulting eyes of the dozen marines behind, his naked body glistening in sticky sweat and- Oh God in Heaven.
"Archie, it's useless."
"Horatio…"
Hobb's face widened into an ugly smile.
"Well, look what we have here. A bugger's quarrel."
He motioned to the marines.
"Clap 'em in irons."
Wellard had abandoned his dignity, and wept almost the second he was alone on the quarter-deck, Randall smirking at him drunkenly as the silent tears coursed down his smooth face.
"I could get you for sedition… mutiny, little boy. You was conspiring wit' dem officers, weren'tcha?"
"I have rank on you, Mr. Randall… Don't make me pull rank…"
The brash seaman laughed.
"And what good will that do yah?"
Wellard shook, but stood firm.
"I could have you shot for disobedience, Mr…"
"Oh, I'll have you singin' like a little bird, I will… Dem beatin's ain't nothin' to what I c'n do to you. And when I'm done, you're pretty little neck will be strung up from a yardarm"
Wellard stood, turning from Randall, almost as if to run away in terror.
"What do you want to know?"
They were made to walk back through the hold, through the center of the mess.
No one had given them the chance to recover their clothes, and if the display of their bodies wasn't proof enough, the sweat and semen that coated their skin was more than plenty.
Some of the men looked startled, some jeered, some hollered…
Horatio stiffened his spine, trying to look neither right nor left, focusing his eyes on the russet-gold hair before him… He could at least try for a brave front, but Gods – his sweet Archie had been slaughtered on the spot. He tried to hold back a scream of rage as a wet gob of tobacco soared through the air and struck the side of a beautiful face…
"Hey, you there!"
A roughed voice struck out, and a yelp of surprised pain leapt from the crowds. All was silent for a moment, before an angered Matthews cried out.
"They're still British Officers, you damnable swine!"
"Matthews, please…"
Horatio whispered, frightened for the bosun, all the more terrified for the man before him, who's back shone with countless scars in the dimness… Nothing could touch him now; he silently dreaded his own thoughts… Please God, don't let him fall into a fit, not now… They'd just throw him into the sea at this rate…
The cell-door clanged as it was swung open, and they were led- none too gently- into the hold, keys rattling in the lock.
Archie had been crying, that much was obvious- salt tracks lined his face, doubled with a disgusting yellow-brown stain on his left cheek…
"H'ratio… "
"God, I'm so sorry, Archie…"
He reached out to wipe away the stain, only to be whipped swiftly from behind with the end of a rope.
"Oh, no you don't sir- You're not to touch him."
His patience died.
"For the love of God, what harm can it do? We're dead men, by your reckoning!"
That brought silence, and another lash from the rope. Slowly, with infinite care, he lifted his bound wrists to his- damn him, his Archie, and clumsily rubbed his thumb over the disgusting stain, dabbing at the sticky substance. Suddenly, a gasp came from Archie, and he turned abruptly, to find his Captain staring at him with a mixture of hatred and revulsion.
Horatio steeled himself, and swallowed hard. The odds were all out of his hand, off the table, and scattered on the floor – but he could still make a wild gamble.
"Sir – "
"Good God, man- what is this perversion?"
"Sir- I beg you, this isn't-"
"Then by all powers, what is it?"
"We – "
"May I speak, sir?"
A dark head peered round the door, wet blue eyes shimmering in a pale, girlish face…
Archie melted.
"Wellard… Wellard, don't…"
"Ah, Wellard! What is this, were you planning a Sedition? Or are you another one of these… Sodomizing traitors? Don't think I don't know what this is about, you want to take the ship for your own-wretched means… Well, I'm on to you now, Gentlemen-the game is up! You'll all swing for it; I'll make sure of it! You'll all-"
The boy seemed near tears, and as Hobbs appeared at his shoulder, smirking like a cat, it all became shockingly apparent…
"I was pressed into… into serving as …" He glanced to the gunner, desperately, and was shouldered forward roughly.
"Don't be shy now, Hobbs, what did this little rat tell you?"
"The midshipman was serving as watchman for the… lieutenants, sir – it appears as though he were in their confidence on – "
Hobbs was halted mid-sentence as Archie flung himself against the bars, screaming like a madman.
"Archie… Archie! Sir, he needs a doctor, Sir… Please, I beg of you, he's going into a fit!"
His face was turning a brilliant shade of purplish green, skin icy cold with sweat and tears streaming from his face as he convulsed… This was no ordinary fit- Archie was giving it his best effort to kill himself! God, surely even the simplest of men knew death when it stared at him, plainly…
"CLIVE!Damn you, now! Clive!"
"He stays where he is!"
"SIR!"
The rope was falling on him like a storm, fibers cutting into the skin of his back as he flung himself to the floor, gripping Archie's head as gently as he could…
Wellard was staring wide-eyed at the spectacle before him, shaking and looking as though his heart had been ripped clean from his chest. And then he did the bravest thing he had ever done- he ran. Ran away, as fast as he could.
Horatio distantly felt the sting of the whip as it cut into his flesh, and he protected the body of his lover from its biting pain, throwing himself atop the shuddering frame as he gradually grew weaker under him. Damn, where was Dr. Clive…? Both hands stroked at his darling, russet hair pooling under his fingertips.
"Enough of this charade, sirs: Marine!"
"Sir?"
"If Lieutenant Kennedy does not see fit to cease this nonsense within the next three minutes, have Mr. Matthews beat a little sense into his hide."
"Archie…" he murmured, "Please, listen to me… you've got to stop this.. Please, Archie… Oh God…"
"I don't see where you have a right to call on God, Mr. Hornblower- at this rate, you will be damned for all eternity. "
Kennedy wailed unconsciously, his head beating into Horatio's lap… every limb shuddered ferociously, sobs racking his chest… Dear God, they would need a miracle…
"What is Mr. Kennedy's condition, sir?"
"Near death, sir! Please… "
He silently offered a prayer of thanks to whichever god watched over sodomites…
"That puppy is no closer to God than I am to - !"
"Sir, if you please, I must attend to him-"
"No, Dr. Clive, you will go no further! I must maintain order here! He is a sodomite and a seditious traitor-better to let him…"
Horatio watched in terror as the doctor found his bearing, and pushed past the Captain.
"Sir, matters of medicine take precedent over matters of discord. Stand aside!"
"Clive, I am Captain of this ship- by God man, I could see you swing for this!"
"Then, with respect sir, I would ask which Article I am in defiance of, and to be shown the exact location of the words - until then, I must ask that you allow me to perform my duty."
The door of the cell banged shut as the bald man rushed to Archie's side... a bottle already out and dipping towards his mouth…
"Doctor, may I inquire…"
"No, this is not laudanum, sir; this is just a tincture of St. John's wart. It has helped him in the past; you would be well advised not to question me as to the effects."
Horatio merely watched, wide-eyed and helpless, as Archie choked on the fluid, still shaking, though not as severely as before…
"However Doctor, your presence is somewhat opportunistic…"
His heart sunk in panicked dread as Archie began to grow still under his hands, his body still taunt as a fully charged sail.
"As only one scrap of physical evidence is necessary for a court-martial, I suggest that you perform the necessary procedures immediately. "
Clive wet his lips delicately.
"Sir, considering the lieutenant's state, I believe that would be an un-wise- "
"Are you questioning my judgment, sir?"
"I am not, however – "
"Then get on with it, damn you!" Sawyer roared, before his demeanor took on a much calmer attitude.
"I believe Mr. Kennedy has volunteered, through his behavior in the last quarter of an hour- Mr. Bush, you will report back to me with the results, such as they may be."
The captain's polished shoes sounded like a death-knell on the wooden stairs, and the second lieutenant let his eyes close in resignation.
"Come Clive, you heard the captain – let's just have it over with."
Horatio was in an advanced state of panic, the entire exchange having flown over his brain like a loosed topsail.
Confusion ran rampant through his tortured brain, all instinct gearing towards protecting his lover from whatever the bastards saw fit to-
"God, no…"
"Legal procedure, Mr. Hornblower, you know that – now up with you."
"But – No, God, No- Archie!"
He began to weep, then, as his body was dragged from that of his prone lover, and irons were chained to the bars, wrapped around his torso to keep him from lashing out and causing injury to the "Good Doctor".
"Steady lad." Matthews whispered through the caging. "It'll be easier for 'im…"
Horatio bit his lips, straining at the bonds like a rabid dog. God's blood, did they all expect him to simply watch while - !
Two marines had entered the cell, and rolled Archie onto his belly before pinning him to the deck by his wrists and feet.
He panicked instantly.
"Archie..." He whispered, a plea unheard by the monsters, whose hands were grabbing at his lover...
"Not him... Me, damn you! Me!"
He might as well have been screaming in russian, for all the mind they paid him.
"Spread him."
"Clive-!"
The doctor glanced at him pityingly for a moment, before going to his knees...
Fear turned into revulsion, and he forced himself not to look away, watching in increased agony at the helplessness of his situation.
Archie seemed to be in a swoon, before fingers touched his skin and his eyes shot wide open.
"Nnn-!"
"Hold him." Clive sighed resignedly, tearing a scrap of linen off of a nearby, tattered sail.
Wellard wanted to vomit, the whole scene appeared to be something from Hell, and why, why did it have to be…
Sweat gleaming all over his skin, Archie tried to catch a breath, to focus on something other than the hands crushing him to the deck - the wood stank of blood and piss. Odd that he'd notice…
Horatio couldn't fully see what was happening, one of the marines' red-wool shoulders blocked his gaze - the dread was making him physically sick, he didn't know how much longer -
"Oh- oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no- ! "
There were no words to describe the pain, the absolute and utter terror that arose in the single gasp, before shudders began to manifest in every inch of his skin, and he began to scream, to vomit, fluids flowing from every orifice…He was unable to scream, it caught in the back of his throat and he choked, blood pooling there as he began to weep.
After about five minutes of having the lieutenant completely at his mercy, Clive drew his arm back, the cloth gloved around two of his stiffened fingers. The light was dim, but liquid stains were clearly visible on the fabric, and Horatio felt his stomach drop three inches down into his gut.
Behind him, Wellard finally vomited over the deck.
With a bit of perverted mercy, he saw that Archie had become unconscious from the pain, blood seeping from his tenderness. And he shook, weeping, mouth agape in a silent scream, eyes closed- the image would be burned into him forever, his lover, chained to the deck, thighs apart, with blood…the damnable blood…
"What did you- WHAT DID YOU DO?"
The surgeon sighed.
"Evidence for the court-martial, Mr. Hornblower. They'll want…"
His voice drifted off as he peeled the fabric from his fingers, sticky with blood and semen, folded it, and stuffed it in his waistcoat pocket.
"Release him."
He thrashed against the bars as the chains were loosened from his body, letting him move just close enough to touch his lover with the side of a finger.
"Oh… Archie…"
Blue eyes cracked open, the lashes soaked and clumping to the skin of his cheek.
" 'Ratio…"
He swallowed hard.
"C…couldn't… help…"
He had no words to describe the feelings that rushed thorugh him… with every passing moment, his heart broke with more and more fervor, until there was nothing inside but a great gaping pit of blackness.
"I'll kill him- I'll fucking kill him-"
"No…y-you can't…"
And who was to stop him?
Who in his bloody Majesty's bloody Navy?
"I swore… I… no one would touch you-"
"D-don't damn the messenger, H'ratio…" Archie part mumbled, part whimpered.
"He only did his d-duty…"
His duty? His bloody duty? How could he even think of- of pitying the man who had… who had…
Good God, he had never loved Archie more.
"Don't… look at me, that way…"
Archie's fair hair had worked itself loose, almost providing a veil over his face, and for a moment all Horatio could think of was how he had looked in the Ferrol… helpless, terrified, agonized, and still so achingly beautiful…
"Why not? We're food for the gallows already."
"God, Horatio… I love you…"
For a boy of fourteen, Wellard had been well sheltered from the less-then savory parts of life. Therefore, it was only to be expected when he began to blush like a young girl on hearing the ratings discuss the latest scuttlebutt.
Only the crudest of crushing terms were blocked out from his sensitive, young ears as he walked through the crowded berths. And he was not excepted from the brutality that befell the officers- oh no… He was only just beginning to feel the sting of hatred from every man on this ship.
"Another of his Majesty's floggin' mollies - "
"Least 'e knows to keep it in 'is slops - "
The watery grog tasted slightly bitter, but the boy kept his dark eyes fixed on the worn leather of his shoes. If he played deaf, perhaps they might let him alone…
He still couldn't erase the image from his mind - Kennedy shaking while blood dripped onto the wooden boards… His stomach turned, and he swilled a bit more of the foul concoction.
"Hey, he was just talkin' 'bout you, young Gentleman Wellard. Perhaps you didn' hear 'im, but…"
He looked up to see the smiling face of Stiles.
"Come off it, Mr. Stiles. You know it's not true…"
"But everyone on the bloody ship thinks you're-"
Silence filled the cramped space, as Wellard stood shakily.
"Be careful what you say, Stiles… Or else I might have to report you to the Captain…"
"There was no harm in it, sir, just a warnin'"
Wellard replaced the tankard on the wet table top, his hands shaking. Several of the men stood as he moved towards the hatchway, and privately, he was grateful for the fleeting respect…
"Ach, little bugger off to see his arse-bandit, eh?"
"Wonder if the captain'll open the doors to the crew- been awhile since I've had anythin' tight around my-"
"Aye, that pretty nancy could use a good 'un or three- all over that pretty ginger head 'o his, eh?"
Crude, drunken laughter greeted this statement, and hardly any of the men saw the midshipman turn slowly, his eyes wet and burning.
"I-I'd ask you not to speak of the Fourth Lieutenant in that manner."
He was met with a chorus of jeers.
"What, or you'll go to the Captain? And what you think he'll do, boy?"
"If he even heard you, he's so full of sh-"
He heard a hiss behind him, and turned to see Matthews, rope in hand, a look of death on his face.
"Be bloody careful what you say 'bout eh Captain, you bunch of whoresons- I could have you swing fo' mutiny if I had a care."