Hornblower Fic: Far from Normal
TITLE: Far From Normal
RATING: NC-17, Slash
CHARACTERS: Bush/Hornblower
WORD COUNT: 1400
DISCLAIMER: HH belongs to CS Forester. Not mine, not for profit.
NOTES: Beta'd by sharpiefan. Written for draugdur and thehappyreturn both of who asked for WB/HH and, as the latter called it, in "any way, shape or form". Hope you gals like this, as this is my first proper slash story (Apparantly A Few Glorious Seconds doesn't count and on second thought I have to agree). I had a bit of fun with this story; some of the characterisations are a little OFC but hey! At least it's not depressing like the rest of my HH stories! A little early, but Merry Christmas!
***
The list was not long, but was long enough to despair over.
Six killed, twenty-four wounded, three of who were not expected to live out the night. Bush himself took a splinter to his left forearm while helping to free a cannon from a pile of fallen blocks and rigging. The pain was a dull ache he paid no attention to - after all, he had worse injuries in the past.
Hornblower, as usual, ended the battle virtually untouched and only a little soiled.
Bush wished that he could have cleaned himself up a little before bringing Hornblower this dirty piece of paper now stained with his own bloody fingerprints. But the captain had insisted on getting it as soon as possible and there was no resisting Hornblower when he was in his aloof, determined mood. So here Bush was, yelling out instructions and trying not to slip on pools of blood as he scurried through the bowels of the Sutherland, past dislodged cannons, fallen yards and an occasional limb.
He nodded to the marine sentry, knocked, heard Hornblower’s trademark cough, and walked in, carefully closing the door behind him.
“You’re late, Mr Bush.” Hornblower was staring out the shattered stern windows with his hands clasped behind his back.
“I’m sorry sir. I had to give Mr Gerard some instructions on my way up. Here is the list you asked for.”
“Read it, Mr Bush.”
As Bush read out the names he paid close attention to the set of his captain’s shoulders. They were usually the only indication to Hornblower’s mood, his face being such an inscrutable mask all the time. As he started on the list of wounded, reading out the various injuries and the Surgeon’s prognosis, he noticed Hornblower’s shoulders slump forward almost imperceptibly before straightening in a stiff, determined manner.
So, it was another one of those days.
Bush edged backwards from the desk - the only furniture in the room - to secure the lock to Hornblower’s door. It clicked into place just as he reached the end of his list. “And finally, Marshall Hodgen lost both his legs and is not expected to live out the night, sir.”
Silence. Even the noise of reconstructive work above and below seemed muffled and distant.
“Well sir?” Bush asked anxiously, hoping that he was correct in his interpretation of his Captain’s mood and wondering how many days of glowering silence he was going to have to endure if he was mistaken.
“William…” the word was a plea, whispered in a soft, hoarse voice that damned almost broke Bush’s heart. Without further invitation, he stepped forward just as Hornblower turned away from the window, a look of despair and need etched across his face. Making sure that they were out of sight of anyone curious enough to peep through the skylight, Bush shoved his captain hard against the wall and captured his mouth in his own.
Hornblower’s mouth was heavy with the coppery taste of blood and his skin smelt musky with sweat and gunpowder. He felt his breeches tighten as Hornblower’s tongue danced around his mouth, playing havoc with his senses and self-control. He also noticed that sometime in the last couple of seconds, his friend had entwined his left hand in his hair while the other tugged demandingly on his pigtail. He growled and fought back, his tongue hard and ruthless as he plundered Hornblower’s mouth, leaving him squirming and whimpering. Bony hands pulled his head away and they came up gasping for breath.
“William… William…”
“Yes, Horatio?” he whispered as he nibbled Hornblower’s ears.
“The door?”
“Locked, of course.” He trailed a couple of kisses down Hornblower’s neck and felt a definite reaction down there where their abdomen and thighs pressed together. Hmmm… interesting…
“And the - ”
“We’re out of their field of vision, Horatio,” replied Bush with a shy smile as his hands roamed downwards. “Don’t you go worrying about that, sir.”
“I’m not worrying - oh!”
Bush grinned. He squeezed again and basked in Hornblower’s soft whimpers.
“You enjoy that, sir?”
Hornblower glared and captured Bush’s mouth in another kiss. With a quick flex of his hips, he took Bush by surprise and turned him around, shoving him against the wall. This time Hornblower didn’t play nice, his left hand stroking Bush through the thin silk fabric of his breeches while the other tugged at the curls at the top of his head. Bush moaned softly and thrust out against Hornblower’s hand, seeking but failing to find more pressure that would bring him to completion. He felt long delicate fingers fumbling against the buttons of his breeches and sighed with relief as he felt cool air upon his length. But before he could catch his breath, Hornblower’s hands wrapped around him and everything was a blur as he lost himself in the sensation of his friend’s touch. Up and down the fist moved, slowly at first but gradually building up speed until Bush burned and cried softly at the sheer pleasure of it. The cry choked off into sob as Hornblower’s other hand found its way to his testicles and tugged and rubbed at them. So close… his head thumped against the wood as he arched his neck out and thrust his hips furiously for release…
…Only to be met with cool air. Hornblower had released him and moved back to stand half a meter away, his head cocked to one side in amusement. Bush breathed harshly and watched in fascination as Hornblower slowly licked his lips and unbuttoned his own breeches to let his penis pop out, its length rock hard and precum glistening at the tip. Hornblower closed his eyes and Bush groaned with desire.
“Goddamn it,” he whispered. “Please…Horatio? I need… I need…”
“What do you need, William? Hmmmm? Say it, Mr Bush, say it!”
“You, Horatio…” he groaned as Hornblower leaned over him and lightly brushed his hand across Bush’s tip. “Damn it, sir, I need you.”
“Good.” Hornblower thrust his weight against him and it was beautiful, glorious pleasure as their lengths slid together, heat on heat, hardness against hardness. It was so fucking good. Bush pulled Hornblower closer towards him and wrapped his fingers around both their lengths, locking them together in a hot, tight grip. The pain in his left arm was forgotten now as he pressed down with that hand and rubbed Hornblower’s backside. There was no speech between them as they thrust against each other, unless one counted the symphony of their harsh breathing and occasional groans as they sailed towards the hurricane together.
Bush came first, swearing softly as the bright light washed away all thought. He sagged against the wall and he felt his friend shudder, cry and collapse against him, coming all over their lengths and Bush’s hand, already sticky with his own seed. Hornblower’s shoulders heaved and he wriggled to nest his head against Bush’s chest.
Bush gently stroked Hornblower’s back and wondered how many more of these post battle sessions there will be in future before death claimed one of them as her own. It wasn’t something he liked to think about, and so he treasured and locked today’s encounter deep in his heart like he did the others, hoping it will never be full.
Hornblower was, as always, the first to recover. He shoved himself away from Bush and calmly buttons up his breeches before fixing his jacket and hair. Bush slowly followed suit, noting with wry amusement that Hornblower’s cheeks were still flushed and his breathing heavier than normal.
“Well, Mr Bush. Please let Mr Walsh know that I plan to have the ceremony this evening. I will need my cabin restored soon, please see to that personally, Bush. I have reports to write.”
“Aye, aye, sir.” Bush dusted off his jacket and bowed his head. Hornblower had already returned to his contemplation of the coast through the broken glass. Clearly dismissed, he walked out of the cabin with a spring in his step and nodded cheerfully to the marine. It was as if nothing had happened, that it was just a normal conversation between a Captain and his first lieutenant…
Only something had happened. And it was certainly far from normal.