Ficlet: Oloroso - Hornblower
For black_hound:
Oloroso
It is pure chance that he happens upon her, and even more felicity that she extends the invitation. He, of course, accepts, as it is what one does, and he is nothing if not proper to all society’s conventions. A dinner party at the table of the Leighton’s is of no small significance, even more when he finds himself at the table near Captain Hornblower and his wife. He is surprised to see her, surprised to see the look of her as well, and he immediately understands the allure of Lady Barbara to Hornblower. It is easy to see where Hornblower’s attentions lie, and Gerard is struck by the impish desire to court Mrs. Hornblower there under her husband’s nose and see if he takes notice of all.
He does not, of course, as to do so would be to invite disaster. He has seen Hornblower see things that were not there to anyone else’s eye, and he dares not risk such a thing. He has a career of his own to consider, and it looks like a challenge only in that Mrs. Hornblower is clearly entranced by her husband and blind to the fact that he, in turn, has eyes only for Lady Barbara.
Venturing away from the discussion of Napoleon for a moment, Gerard makes his way to the windows. Cigars and brandy appear and he declines both, preferring the fire smoke to fill his lungs. Lady Barbara’s maid, as well as the other ladies maids are in the room to the left of the fireplace, and he can hear the chatter amongst them. He nods to Hebe, acknowledging their slight acquaintance, and she curtsies and smiles. It is not hard to remember what her smile means, and a quick glance back at the party show that Hornblower and Barbara are in conversation with Leighton, and Maria Hornblower is alone again. However, Gerard prefers a guarantee, so he simply nods to Hebe and lets her lead him away from the other women and into a darkened hallway.
He listens for the whisper of clandestine lovers and, hearing nothing, he grabs Hebe’s hand and tugs her toward him, his other hand tugging at her skirts. He knows from aboard Lydia that Barbara insists that Hebe follow convention, and he knows as well that, as soon as Barbara allows her freedom for a moment, Hebe defies it, so her skin is soft and exposed to his touch. His hands slide along her firm thigh to the softness of her sex, feeling the slightly course hair that shrouds it. She is slick and wet and he rubs at her, feeling the nub of flesh respond to his touch, watching Hebe’s eyes as they seem lit by an internal fire.
She undoes his trousers with practiced ease and slips him free of the excess fabric of his shirt. Her hand is hot around him and tight, and she strokes hard several times. He nearly groans from the intensity of her aggression, but instead buries any traitorous sounds in her mouth, kissing her eager mouth. She laughs against the kiss and he shoves her skirts up to her waist with both hands before sliding them around to curve around the lush flesh of her buttocks.
It is easy to slide into her wetness, to push himself deep. Her skirts buffet them like waves with every hard stroke, and she whispers in words that are some strange mixture of her native tongue and English. He recognizes some of them and flushes from what she says, descriptions of acts that make his flesh harder inside her, words that make him groan and shudder with anticipation and need. Hebe laughs and tightens her legs around his waist, her shoes digging into the bunched fabric of his trousers, heels clawing roughly at his exposed buttocks. He wraps his arms tighter around her waist and thrusts deeper, driving them both closer to the edge. Hebe’s breath shortens, expelled in hot gasps that dry the sweat beading on his neck. Her tongue slides along his throat and he spends himself inside her, burying his seed deep as she tightens her body around him to milk it from him.
She puts herself to rights easier than he can, and he can smell the sex on her, can see the satisfaction in her eyes. He knows she will not tell Lady Barbara whose semen has dripped onto her thighs at the end of the night, and he knows his own indiscretions to be safe with him. He nods as she leaves, then spends a few moments fixing himself.
It does not take long before he is fit to join the party again and he surveys the alignments that have taken place in his short absence. After a quick reconnaissance, he nods toward Hornblower and then moves to stand at Mrs. Hornblower’s side, offering her his arm to Maria and turning her away from her husband as Hornblower avails himself of that same darkened hallway and a slightly more well-placed piece of flesh.
Oloroso
It is pure chance that he happens upon her, and even more felicity that she extends the invitation. He, of course, accepts, as it is what one does, and he is nothing if not proper to all society’s conventions. A dinner party at the table of the Leighton’s is of no small significance, even more when he finds himself at the table near Captain Hornblower and his wife. He is surprised to see her, surprised to see the look of her as well, and he immediately understands the allure of Lady Barbara to Hornblower. It is easy to see where Hornblower’s attentions lie, and Gerard is struck by the impish desire to court Mrs. Hornblower there under her husband’s nose and see if he takes notice of all.
He does not, of course, as to do so would be to invite disaster. He has seen Hornblower see things that were not there to anyone else’s eye, and he dares not risk such a thing. He has a career of his own to consider, and it looks like a challenge only in that Mrs. Hornblower is clearly entranced by her husband and blind to the fact that he, in turn, has eyes only for Lady Barbara.
Venturing away from the discussion of Napoleon for a moment, Gerard makes his way to the windows. Cigars and brandy appear and he declines both, preferring the fire smoke to fill his lungs. Lady Barbara’s maid, as well as the other ladies maids are in the room to the left of the fireplace, and he can hear the chatter amongst them. He nods to Hebe, acknowledging their slight acquaintance, and she curtsies and smiles. It is not hard to remember what her smile means, and a quick glance back at the party show that Hornblower and Barbara are in conversation with Leighton, and Maria Hornblower is alone again. However, Gerard prefers a guarantee, so he simply nods to Hebe and lets her lead him away from the other women and into a darkened hallway.
He listens for the whisper of clandestine lovers and, hearing nothing, he grabs Hebe’s hand and tugs her toward him, his other hand tugging at her skirts. He knows from aboard Lydia that Barbara insists that Hebe follow convention, and he knows as well that, as soon as Barbara allows her freedom for a moment, Hebe defies it, so her skin is soft and exposed to his touch. His hands slide along her firm thigh to the softness of her sex, feeling the slightly course hair that shrouds it. She is slick and wet and he rubs at her, feeling the nub of flesh respond to his touch, watching Hebe’s eyes as they seem lit by an internal fire.
She undoes his trousers with practiced ease and slips him free of the excess fabric of his shirt. Her hand is hot around him and tight, and she strokes hard several times. He nearly groans from the intensity of her aggression, but instead buries any traitorous sounds in her mouth, kissing her eager mouth. She laughs against the kiss and he shoves her skirts up to her waist with both hands before sliding them around to curve around the lush flesh of her buttocks.
It is easy to slide into her wetness, to push himself deep. Her skirts buffet them like waves with every hard stroke, and she whispers in words that are some strange mixture of her native tongue and English. He recognizes some of them and flushes from what she says, descriptions of acts that make his flesh harder inside her, words that make him groan and shudder with anticipation and need. Hebe laughs and tightens her legs around his waist, her shoes digging into the bunched fabric of his trousers, heels clawing roughly at his exposed buttocks. He wraps his arms tighter around her waist and thrusts deeper, driving them both closer to the edge. Hebe’s breath shortens, expelled in hot gasps that dry the sweat beading on his neck. Her tongue slides along his throat and he spends himself inside her, burying his seed deep as she tightens her body around him to milk it from him.
She puts herself to rights easier than he can, and he can smell the sex on her, can see the satisfaction in her eyes. He knows she will not tell Lady Barbara whose semen has dripped onto her thighs at the end of the night, and he knows his own indiscretions to be safe with him. He nods as she leaves, then spends a few moments fixing himself.
It does not take long before he is fit to join the party again and he surveys the alignments that have taken place in his short absence. After a quick reconnaissance, he nods toward Hornblower and then moves to stand at Mrs. Hornblower’s side, offering her his arm to Maria and turning her away from her husband as Hornblower avails himself of that same darkened hallway and a slightly more well-placed piece of flesh.