Horatio Hornblower gripped Indefatigable’s wooden rail, an anxious knot tightening inside his belly as he identified the two officers in the boat making its way from the Portsmouth shore. For several hours he had watched for that boat, and had gone without a moment’s rest since the Persephone’s sails had been sighted entering the harbor in the small hours of dawn. In fact, he had not slept soundly since the cutting-out party had been dispatched three days before.
The mission had been deemed risky, but given that the Persephone had fired twice on the Indie in the past week – inflicting moderate damage which would have to be repaired in the harbor – cutting her out had been for the good of the ship. That reasoning had seemed sound enough until Captain Pellew had put Archie in general command. One glance at his friend’s fluttering eyelids and Horatio had wanted to protest the decision, until he realized that Archie’s anxiety had nothing to do with fear of death, remembering that, with thanks to Jack Simpson, the last cutting-out raid in which Archie had participated had ended disastrously for him. But Horatio could not protest, knowing that he could not, in all love, keep his friend from another chance at proving his mettle as an officer or from gaining much- needed confidence in that regard, nor could he dare to question his Captain’s orders.
And so Horatio had watched the boats row away in the dead of night, his chest tight with worry. The fog had settled in before morning, and there had been no sight of the Persephone during the return voyage to Portsmouth. Privately, Horatio had anticipated the worst, though he had tried to display a cheerful countenance on deck, suppressing resentment toward his Captain that Pellew may have sent Archie to his death.
The ratings chosen for that mission had been the first to come back aboard hours ago. Captain Pellew had gone ashore after receiving them, on the business of putting the Persephone officially in British hands, as well as arranging for the Indie’s refit. Horatio had hoped his Captain would order him to go along, but Pellew had spared him little more than a glance this morning. No matter; the waiting was over. Horatio let his eyes linger over the shorter man in the approaching boat, sighing with relief at last.
“Look at him, Mr. Hornblower!” Lieutenant Bracegirdle joined him at the rail. “He’s proud as a peacock now, and rightly so.”
Horatio took his gaze from his friend long enough to nod at the First Lieutenant. He supposed Bracegirdle was right; Archie did seem to radiate a certain poise, smiling beside the Captain with his head titled at a cocky angle. And why shouldn’t he be proud, given the tale Styles had told?
“Mr. Kennedy was bloody fearless, sir,” the gruff seaman had grinned, “put his cutlass right against that Frog Captain’s jugular. Said, ‘Surrender, sir, or my men will be swabbing the deck with your blood.’ Like a bloody pirate!”
The hands had laughed at that, though the remark had left Horatio furious, ready to snap that Lieutenant Kennedy was a gentleman and that the next man who dared compare their superior officer to a skulking, honorless dog of the sea would find himself at the gratings for their disrespect. Yet Horatio had held his tongue, grudgingly certain – given Archie’s love of drama – that the comparison would have pleased his friend all too well.
Horatio shook his head, leaning further over the rail, strangely haunted by the image Styles had painted. He closed his eyes, remembering the beaming midshipman who had bounced up to him on deck after their first battle years ago, spattered in gore and proud of it. He’d had so much to prove. Since then Horatio had known that his witty, Shakespeare-loving friend was deep down a fighting man, and that after two years in captivity Archie likely had a score to settle with his French enemies – yet another reason why Horatio had dared not object to his going. He sighed; there was Archie’s prize in the Portsmouth harbor, the ship Persephone. What better proof of courage under fire did Archie need?
The bosun’s whistle screeched across Horatio’s thoughts, bringing his head up. He whipped away from the rail, taking his place beside Bracegirdle as the Captain climbed aboard with Archie right behind him. Pellew spared no glance for either of them, but immediately ascended to the quarterdeck with orders for Bowles that Horatio could not make out.
Looking away, Horatio turned to Archie, smiling when he caught the crisp white lapels of a proper lieutenant’s uniform beneath his cloak. Archie certainly looked every inch the King’s officer, save for the wide grin on his face and the sparkle of excitement in his sapphire eyes – a dreadful deficit to decorum, however bewitching. Those eyes held his for a moment, filling Horatio with the undignified urge to stride up and embrace his friend as tightly as he dared.
“Mr. Kennedy!” Bracegirdle had his arm around Archie’s broad shoulders before Horatio could move, stealing his friend’s attention from him. “I daresay the Admiralty will celebrate the day they approved your commission.”
Archie smiled, rather modestly. “Perhaps they’ll stop kicking themselves at least, Mr. Bracegirdle.”
The First Lieutenant removed his arm, but only for Archie to be jerked in the opposite direction, this time by Bowles, coming down from the quarterdeck to grasp his hand.
“The angel Gabriel, gone to smite those French devils!”
Bowles and Bracegirdle shared a chuckle, while Archie colored slightly under the compliment. The men below heard as well, grinning and laughing. Horatio glowered at them, and then back at Archie standing between the two older men, eyes bright, as though overwhelmed by their praise. He knew he should feel pride for his friend, but Horatio found himself unable to swallow his vexation. How could they jest while he had been too sick with worry to sleep? And that Bowles and Bracegirdle should be the first to congratulate him, the first to touch him. . . . Horatio gritted his teeth. It hardly mattered; sleeplessness had left him irritable, and Archie seemed no longer aware of his presence besides, turning his sweet smile upon the Ship’s Master.
“Mr. Bowles, I –“
“Mr. Kennedy!” a growl from the quarterdeck stopped Archie short. “A moment in my cabin if you please, sir.”
That broad grin narrowed into something sheepish, and with all speed Archie touched his hat in salute. “Aye, aye, sir!” He did not say another word, but rushed forward to meet the Captain as he hastened down the stairs, following Pellew down into his cabin.
Horatio stared after them a moment, battling the itching frustration that Pellew, who typically paid no mind to Archie beyond the necessary, seemed determined to steal the man away as well. Well, he could not stand here gaping at the closed cabin door like a fool; in fact, he had no need to be on deck at all given that he was off duty. Perhaps his nerves would be soothed with a nap, and surely Archie would want to rest as well. Deciding a nap would be for the best, Horatio made for the ladder leading below decks and headed for his cabin.
After hanging his jacket and sitting down in the middle of his cot, Horatio found that he did not desire sleep. The cabin was quiet and lonely, had been for a long time now – no, only three days, the rational part of his mind tried to put that time in perspective, though each day had seemed to stretch into a week or month onto itself. The grinning hero on deck had not seemed to feel the weight of that separation, and Horatio wondered dismally if his friend had been glad to go.
Pushing that thought aside, Horatio glanced around. Signs of Archie lingered everywhere, of course: his shoes under the bed, a half-finished letter to his mother folded on his pillow, one of his books lying open on his hammock, untouched since the Captain had called hands to quarters days ago. The book lay beside a bit of hair ribbon atop an old shirt, a reminder of how they had scrambled into their clothes to answer the call to duty. Horatio had tried reading another of Archie’s books to fill the quiet hours, but he was hardly able to appreciate such cryptic and flowery poetry without Archie to translate each line.
Guilt burned inside Horatio’s belly. Of course the mission had been good for Archie; no doubt the man had higher aspirations in the Navy than to sit in this cabin translating Shakespeare for an unimaginative dunce. Archie had doubtless been glad to accomplish something on his own and deserved all recognition and promotion warranted by his abilities. Promotion, Horatio tensed at the word. That might mean transfer to another ship, perhaps never seeing each other again.
Footsteps in the companionway spared him further anguish from that thought. Horatio’s fingers curled into the bedding as the door creaked open; it was all he could do not to leap up, take his friend by the shoulders, and pour out all the worries and fears his absence had brought. Archie was a new man now and evidently did not need his fussing anymore.
Archie quickly latched the door shut behind him. Horatio noticed that his friend’s expression was hardly composed, nothing like the huge grin he had worn on deck, but rather Archie seemed to itch with nervous energy now. Horatio watched him remove his hat, fussing with his hair a moment, and then unfastening his cloak and draping it over his hammock, picking at the wrinkles in the cloth.
“Good to be back in here,” Archie said at last with a small laugh. “I was certain the Captain meant to have my head. I’m not so sure he won’t after all.”
Horatio blinked at the strange quip. “But why, Archie?” He had captured a ship for God’s sake.
Looking away, Archie busied himself with unfastening the buttons of his freshly tailored, freshly pressed jacket. “Well, it’s my habit to make a muck of things and yours to triumph. I fear I’ve upset the balance a bit.”
“Archie, enough,” Horatio narrowed his eyes. The guilt that had plagued him moments ago burned stronger now; perhaps if he had offered congratulations like a proper friend Archie’s triumph would not have been soured. The knowledge that he had spent the past days fretting over Archie’s safety did not escape him, though he had not feared failure on Archie’s part exactly, only that. . . . Horatio frowned; perhaps Archie had sensed his worry and had mistaken it for doubt. He then wondered if the men on deck had mistaken his retreat for jealousy and felt inexplicably ashamed.
“It feels strange,” Archie went on, rather too casually, “doing something right for a change. I hardly know what to do with myself.”
“I said enough.” The words were low; he would not dare shout at Archie, but he hated to hear him disparage himself. Archie only shot him a puzzled glance before fumbling with the last button of his jacket. Sliding off the hammock, Horatio stepped behind Archie in the cramped space between his friend’s bunk and the bulkhead, taking the lapels of his jacket and sliding it from those broad shoulders.
God, to be close to him. Horatio could feel the warmth of his body though they were not quite touching, and he could smell the salt and wool, and the clean scent that was Archie. His heart leapt to breathe it in, caution overcome as three days of fear and a morning’s relief mounted into a hunger for affection.
Before Horatio realized what he was doing, he had half the buttons of Archie’s waistcoat undone, closing his eyes and pressing a kiss to one sun- bronzed cheek as he did so. Archie tipped his head back, letting out a small sound as Horatio leaned in further to kiss along his jaw.
“What’s this?” The soft, lusty undertone sent a pang of excitement through Horatio’s body. He bent his head again, trapping one delicate earlobe between his lips and nibbling carefully.
“My overdue congratulations,” Horatio replied after a moment, and then went on more somberly. “I’ve always known the enemy had plenty to fear from you, Archie. But I’m even gladder to see you safe then to hear the Frogs have been deprived of one of their ships.”
With a shake of his head, Archie’s humor seemed to drain as well. “Couldn’t sleep well aboard that ship, She’s French; too many bad memories.”
Leaving off the unfinished buttons, Horatio slid his arms around his friend, vaguely distressed that Archie’s troubles still haunted him after all, yet shamefully relieved that he still required his comfort. He became aroused as well by the sturdy, muscular heat of him. His lips found Archie’s neck, biting oh so gently, just enough to make Archie quiver with a quiet laugh. Horatio did not stop at that, but nuzzled under Archie’s ear, whispering.
“Perhaps you’d find French ships more pleasant if we were left alone on one together.”
“Horatio . . .” Archie sighed against him and then – never at a loss for very long – twisted around in his embrace. “Who knew your ambition was bolstered by a desire to tumble me in fresh scenery.” Those clear blue eyes brimmed with amusement before falling closed as Archie stretched up to capture Horatio’s mouth.
It was a warm, unhurried kiss, and Horatio let it linger, pouring into it his relief that Archie was safe with him at last. He reached up to cradle the back of Archie’s head, his senses soaking up the taste of him as he brought their mouths closer together. After a moment, he drew back, taking in a deep draught of air, his gaze resting on the soft, shapely mouth his own lips had reddened with their gentle abuse.
“I have other ambitions at the moment, Archie,” Horatio replied lowly, one hand coming up to loosen the cloth obscuring Archie’s neck. His lips sought the golden throat exposed to him, but only for Archie to seize his shoulders a moment later, attempting to push him away.
"We must not." Archie was shaking his head when Horatio straightened. "Not with so many men running about out there. Someone might come in or –"
He fell silent when Horatio bent, taking the seachest beside Archie’s hammock and sliding it against the door. He tested the latch once to see that it was secure and then returned to cup Archie’s face in both hands, finding his mouth again. It was only a brief brush of lips, just enough to feel Archie’s mouth yield beneath his own.
“Refuse me now,” Horatio challenged, drawing back to meet that steady blue gaze. The rational part of his mind knew this was a mad risk, but their presence was unlikely to be required on deck any time soon, and Archie did deserve to know that he had been missed and that Horatio was glad for him. One fine golden eyebrow curved, before Archie very defeatedly murmured,
“Horatio, you know I can’t.”
The artless admission struck such a chord of affection in Horatio’s heart that he reached up to stroke Archie’s cheek, wondering for the thousandth time how his friend could be so vulnerable and shameless. Archie’s blue eyes were so wide and intense that Horatio felt a lump rise in his throat. He swallowed it down quickly, along with the desperation never to allow a mission to take Archie from him again. He focused instead on the half open buttons of his friend’s waistcoat and the fine, crisp shirt beneath, realizing that not only had he been remiss in congratulations, but he had not complimented his friend’s new uniform either.
“Then perhaps this might also be the time to inform you that you look very handsome, Mr. Kennedy,” Horatio went on with a deliberate hint of deviousness in his voice. “However, tailors being what they are I would be certain you were not taken advantage of and sold something of compromised quality.”
“I suppose you’re the only one allowed to compromise me,” Archie grinned, playing along.
Horatio arched his brows and grinned in a manner he knew excited Archie. Strong hands tightened on his shoulders, seeking to draw Horatio forward for another kiss. But Horatio shook his head, having other plans. Sliding his hands to Archie’s waist, he dropped to his knees on the decking.
Archie’s eyes widened, his patience obviously starting to fray as intention became understood between them. Horatio found himself still grinning, bringing his hands to Archie’s chest, smoothing down the front of his waistcoat and then back down to his breeches and over his thighs.
“The cloth’s fine enough,” he remarked with an approving nod not all in jest. Archie’s muscular body was a thing to behold. Horatio felt warm just looking at him. His hands slid around, cupping the rounded flesh of Archie’s backside and kneading gently. “And I daresay the fit is impressive.” Horatio glanced up to see Archie’s blond head bump against the wood, his breath coming decidedly faster. Blue eyes caught his, slightly wild now.
“Then I think we can both agree it’s not the tailor who took advantage of me.”
“If he did I’d better not hear of it,” was all Horatio said, reminding himself to speak quietly. He wedged his fingers inside the waistband of Archie’s trousers, gathering the hem of his shirt and tugging it free. “In any case, he should know better then to take advantage of a . . .” Holding the linen in one hand, Horatio used the other to unfasten the buttons of Archie’s breeches. “ . . . a hardened sailor,” he finished, teasing him through the thin cloth of his drawers, heat stirring up in his own body.
Above him, he heard Archie suck in a breath. “Sailors aren’t hard to please.”
“I’ll be the judge of that.” Horatio shoved Archie’s shirt up further, baring his belly, flat and warm where he rubbed his cheek against it. His other hand slid beneath the linen, scratching lightly through the soft hair over Archie’s chest until his fingers found a nipple, enjoying how Archie jumped with an almost inaudible yelp when he pinched it gently.
Never able to forget the consequences of being overheard, Horatio took his hand away, holding Archie’s hips again as he looked up from Archie’s chest to face him. “Be quiet while I have my way with you.”
Horatio watched long enough to see Archie take his lip between his teeth. Then he closed his eyes, mouthing a hot trail down his lover’s belly, licking, kissing, until he felt the muscles there tremble from his attentions.
“Conduct unbecoming, Mr. Hornblower, sir . . .” Archie rasped above him with such sweet, feigned indignation that Horatio had to laugh. “Patience, sir, I mean to have you coming presently.”
Archie tried to laugh, but the effort turned into a choked gasp as Horatio took his smooth, stiff flesh firmly in hand, freeing him from the confines of his clothing. It would be rewarding to draw out the pleasure, but they had risked enough time for themselves as it was, and given how Archie’s flesh leapt at his touch, he did not think his friend could hold out for long anyway.
As usual when it came to anything but sailing, Archie took command of the situation, tangling his strong fingers in Horatio’s hair, guiding him down, leaving no question of what he wanted. Horatio took the throbbing, hot length of him into his mouth, as much as he could fit, and let Archie do the rest. A searing blush scorched his cheeks as Archie went for it in a frenzy, a part of Horatio unable to believe that he was down on his knees in full uniform, his head trapped between Archie’s lap and those hard-gripping hands while his friend fucked – there was no other word for it – his throat with abandon, panting heavily above him.
It did not matter; Archie had shown him that dignity was no concern when they were alone, and his friend had always been physically generous. Horatio was glad to give pleasure, even as Archie went utterly still, his body arching away from the bulkhead and spilling his release in one violent shudder after another.
A long moment passed before either of them caught their breath, but eventually Horatio recovered himself enough to rise. He caught Archie in his arms – flushed and tousled and exhausted from his efforts – stroking his back as he led him to his own hammock, helping him to sit down. Never out of sorts for very long, Archie’s eyes were on him in an instant, bright and blue, and a moment later his mouth was on Horatio’s too, as if Archie needed to taste himself on his lips in order to fully savor what had just passed. Satisfied with one long kiss, Archie drew back, staring up at Horatio once more.
“Well, Horatio,” he dropped his gaze long enough to examine the unseemly state of the bits of his uniform he still had on. “Has your inspection proved satisfying?”
An unbearably wicked glint danced in those blue eyes, making it plain that Archie was not speaking solely of uniforms. Horatio cleared his throat, well aware that he was blushing, but he brought one hand to Archie’s cheek nonetheless. “I would say that looking at you is satisfaction enough, Archie, but . . .”
He took his hand away from those delicate features, seizing Archie’s hand and raising it to his lips before guiding it down, right between his legs where he was throbbing and ready. A part of him could not believe he was being so forward, but Horatio forgot that once Archie began unfastening buttons and wriggling his hand inside his drawers.
“Now I’ve got you!” Archie grinned his triumphant grin. Horatio let out a ragged breath as practiced fingers closed around him, teasing the length of him, the hot pad of one thumb smearing the wetness at the tip. It was too much; Horatio gasped again.
“Oh, I surrender,” he conceded in a heated cloud of breath. His arm tightened around Archie’s waist, drawing his friend closer until Archie’s arm slid around his shoulders, bringing them into an awkward embrace while his hand continued its torture.
A slow, fiery pleasure grew in Horatio’s loins, spreading up to sting his face, and then sweeping down to his toes. His breathing grew louder, more labored, and when the first rough sound tore from his dry throat he knew he must do something to keep silent.
One hand came up, tilting that flushed, angelic face just a little, allowing him to peer into those blue, blue eyes before he bent to claim that sweet pink mouth. Archie’s hand faltered as Horatio pushed his tongue inside, and then he recovered himself, stroking more steadily, squeezing until Horatio shuddered.
“Archie . . .” he drew back to glance at his lap, too dumbstruck with pleasure to warn of the mess they would soon make. Archie seemed to understand, sliding gracefully to his knees, one arm around Horatio’s waist and the other hand around his cock as he bent his head to draw Horatio into the velvet warmth of his mouth.
Horatio slammed his eyes shut, biting his lip against the wet tickle of a tongue before Archie got to finishing the job in earnest. He made his mouth so tight and hot that Horatio felt his legs quiver, until he grasped the hammock with both hands to keep it steady. A final caress of lips threw him over the edge. He arched his head back, gasping as climax wracked his body.
Somehow Horatio thought to reach out for Archie once his mind cleared. His arms wrapped tight around him, tugging him up from the floor and then drawing him down against the pillow so that Horatio could rest his head against that strong chest. Horatio lay silent for a moment, letting the daze of pleasure slip away for something calmer, sighing as Archie’s fingers combed lazily through his dampened hair.
“Archie . . .” He dragged his body around until he was half lying atop his lover. Clear blue eyes were on him, and Horatio could not resist staring into their depths, fearing one day he just might gaze overlong and drown. He was being fond and knew it, brushing the red-gold hair away from Archie’s forehead, studying his small, perfect nose and pretty pink mouth compelling him down for a kiss. “What would I do without you, Archie,” he sighed when he pulled away. Had they only been apart three days? The bleak, fretful hours had seemed interminable.
Gilded lashes fluttered and Archie offered a half smile. “Tire your hand, I’d imagine.”
“Archie . . .” Horatio shook his head, but Archie only turned his face away, a sign that he understood what had prompted him to ask but would not dwell on it. They both knew the dangers of life in His Majesty’s Service and the grim possibility of death each time the enemy showed her face. Love was not stronger than the reality of war.
Horatio sighed; Archie seemed content now and therefore he would respect his wish and not sour his friend’s mood with his brooding. Instead, he curled against Archie’s side and reached down to close the buttons of his friend’s drawers. When he was done with that, he took the hem of Archie’s shirt and attempted to smooth the wrinkles, only to be distracted by warm arms slipping around his neck. Another kiss followed, and then another, until Horatio forgot the forlorn worries of the past three days and simply allowed himself to be glad that Archie was here. Horatio glanced at the pile of clothing on Archie’s hammock and then back at the half-dressed lieutenant in his arms,
“It has to be said, Archie,” he managed a tad breathlessly, “that even the work of the most skilled tailor can’t compare with you out of uniform.” A slow, naughty smile rounded Archie’s cheeks. “Horatio, what’s got into you?”
“I’m merely happy for you, Archie. Don’t think for a minute that I wasn’t proud watching you today.”
Shaking his head, Archie ran his tongue over his lips. “Perhaps the Captain will let us ashore soon, and then perhaps . . .” he pushed a finger through Horatio’s lips suggestively, “you might like to congratulate me in a manner fit for one who knows me from the inside.”
The warm, seductive tone sent a shiver down Horatio’s spine. “Indeed,” his voice broke, rough with longing all over again. He buried his hands in the folds of Archie’s shirt, silently cursing the fact that he would have to wait.