man, that kitchen scene.
May. 11th, 2006 12:01 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
quigonejinnWhat can I say? There has been so much filthy, filthy porn involving Paul McGann in one incarnation or the other my life in the past 24 hours. I mean. MAN. Even the schmoop is full of sexx.
Bush was surprisingly quiet in bed: he was loud on the quarterdeck; he talked in the wardroom, but when fucking, he confined himelf to quieter noises. Hornblower had once been in the room next to Bush in a brothel in Plymouth, while they were with the Lydia, and the sound of Bush haggling with the girl had been louder than him fucking her into the headboard. Hornblower had finished with his -- Maria was pregnant -- listened the quiet after they agreed on eight shillings, six pence while he was buttoning his trousers, and been waiting there in the hallway while Bush came out of the room, straightening his neckcloth and humming and swaggering more than a little.
When he and Bush were halfway down, Hornblower looked over his shoulder and saw the girl, standing at the top of her stairs, still looking a little distressed and standing awkwardly, legs apart, from the pounding she had gotten.
The loudest part of fucking Bush, apparently, even a good, hard fuck, was the haggling, and later, Hornblower had occaision to think of the bellowing on the quarterdeck, the sound of Bush laughing as heard through the door of the wardroom. In fact, Hornblower would have noted it a triumph when, a few days after they'd rounded the Cape and Bush was lying against the captain's table with his trousers down around his ankles, and Hornblower managed to get an actual moan out of Bush -- Hornblower would have considered it more of a triumph if Bush hadn't taken that moment to fill his mouth and coat his lips with it, too.
---
Hornblower's first experience of sodomy had been with women, of course. There were blowjobs when he was a middie and entirely new to the novelty of being able to get a woman to do whatever he wanted, so long as he could pay, and then, there had been the memorable night when he'd ended up splitting a woman with Smith. The agreement had been that they'd flip a coin for who got to fuck her proper and who got second servings, but after Smith won the coin flip and had her so loud that everybody in the building probably heard him, Hornblower decided that he didn't want anything between her legs, and she was panting too hard to give him a real blowjob.
"You haven't got money to get another girl up here," Smith said. He was impatient to get back down to the tables before they were due back on the Renown. "If you don't want her in the mouth, there is another option, you know."
Hornblower looked at the girl, who was lying on her back on the mattress, legs spread and the puddle from Smith soaking into the mattress. Her mouth, above, looked about as appealing as mutton grease, and Hornblower ended up paying out a significant portion of the rest of his money -- above what he'd originally been planning, part of what he'd been saving for books -- so that he could have what Smith called the Frog Special.
There was plenty that Hornblower could have remembered from that: the humiliation of not exactly knowing how to go about it and having Smith make exasperated, impatient noises, the strangeness of having to spit in his hand before he went in. The way that it felt utterly different from being in a woman, normally, much harder, much drier, and tighter than he would have imagined from a girl who'd been working as long as this one.
What he ended up remembering, though, was the noises she had made. She'd gone limp in his hands, in fact; he'd had to hold her up because they were kneeling on the bed together, and then, she made these weak noises. They had almost been mewling noises, almost whimpers. She had lain in his arms, limp as a coil of thin rope while he fucked her, and while Hornblower later realized that she had been making the noises because of pain, that she had been so limp because she had been trying to relax, it had all been exciting at the time, and that weakess, those noises were what stayed with him. They characterized sodomy of that sort for him, and later, when the Renown was at sea, and he was swaying in his cot and thinking of the new lieutenant who had come aboard that week, the one with the handsome eyes and the way of smiling, sweet as a girl despite the size of his shoulders and the roughness of his face -- he smiled at Hornblower sweet as a girl, and Hornblower wondered whether Bush might make similar noises if he were being fucked from the back, too.
It was difficult to imagine, true, but it was the difficulty of imagining, Hornblower decided, his hand slipping underneath his blanket, that made it pleasurable.
---
Up to that point, Bush only had Hornblower a few times -- twice when they were lieutenants, another time when Hornblower had been newly confirmed as commander and they were both drunk with both happiness and good brandy over his new command. Once, while on the Sutherland, that counted somewhat but also didn't really count there had been no penetration. Bush had spent himself against Hornblower's bare back, and given what else they did together, it barely rated.
Until that night, then, Bush had never had Hornblower as a grown man, as a captain. Neither of them were particularly drunk, though Hornblower had talked himself hoarse during the evening, and he was undressing himself for bed when Bush came up behind him. The noise of his wooden foot, then his fingers on Hornblower's bare shoulder, his collarbone. His spine. Hornblower had looked at him; Bush had flushed a little, looked back at Hornblower's collarbone near where he had touched it, and then when Hornblower went on undressing, Bush got up and made sure the door was barred.
He had Hornblower on his stomach that night. They put a pillow under Hornblower's hips, and Hornblower had to bite his lip and grunt into the mattress when Bush started working that first finger in. It was not, Hornblower knew, that Bush wasn't any good at it. No, Bush was good at the pacing, at soothing and keeping him quiet and moving him so that they both would be more comfortable. He moved with more assurance about it than Hornblower did, and Hornblower had all those years of practice, and consequently, the whole notion of who Bush had been fucking in order so as to be this practiced at opening a man -- it carried Hornblower away in knots of possibility until Bush's finger brushed against something inside Hornblower. He would have jumped off the mattress if Bush hadn't been expecting it and held him down for it, and there was very little thinking on Hornblower's part after that.
He realized that Bush had been waiting to fuck him like this for years; he knew that Bush had done it to others in the meantime, but even the jealousy went away after Bush replaced his fingers with his cock and began fucking him, slow and steady, but so deep each time that Hornblower knew that he'd curled his fingers into fists and had tears standing in his eyes and was still pushing himself back against Bush for more.
Everything, Hornblower found, dropped away in that mix of lust and pain.
Bush was surprisingly quiet in bed: he was loud on the quarterdeck; he talked in the wardroom, but when fucking, he confined himelf to quieter noises. Hornblower had once been in the room next to Bush in a brothel in Plymouth, while they were with the Lydia, and the sound of Bush haggling with the girl had been louder than him fucking her into the headboard. Hornblower had finished with his -- Maria was pregnant -- listened the quiet after they agreed on eight shillings, six pence while he was buttoning his trousers, and been waiting there in the hallway while Bush came out of the room, straightening his neckcloth and humming and swaggering more than a little.
When he and Bush were halfway down, Hornblower looked over his shoulder and saw the girl, standing at the top of her stairs, still looking a little distressed and standing awkwardly, legs apart, from the pounding she had gotten.
The loudest part of fucking Bush, apparently, even a good, hard fuck, was the haggling, and later, Hornblower had occaision to think of the bellowing on the quarterdeck, the sound of Bush laughing as heard through the door of the wardroom. In fact, Hornblower would have noted it a triumph when, a few days after they'd rounded the Cape and Bush was lying against the captain's table with his trousers down around his ankles, and Hornblower managed to get an actual moan out of Bush -- Hornblower would have considered it more of a triumph if Bush hadn't taken that moment to fill his mouth and coat his lips with it, too.
---
Hornblower's first experience of sodomy had been with women, of course. There were blowjobs when he was a middie and entirely new to the novelty of being able to get a woman to do whatever he wanted, so long as he could pay, and then, there had been the memorable night when he'd ended up splitting a woman with Smith. The agreement had been that they'd flip a coin for who got to fuck her proper and who got second servings, but after Smith won the coin flip and had her so loud that everybody in the building probably heard him, Hornblower decided that he didn't want anything between her legs, and she was panting too hard to give him a real blowjob.
"You haven't got money to get another girl up here," Smith said. He was impatient to get back down to the tables before they were due back on the Renown. "If you don't want her in the mouth, there is another option, you know."
Hornblower looked at the girl, who was lying on her back on the mattress, legs spread and the puddle from Smith soaking into the mattress. Her mouth, above, looked about as appealing as mutton grease, and Hornblower ended up paying out a significant portion of the rest of his money -- above what he'd originally been planning, part of what he'd been saving for books -- so that he could have what Smith called the Frog Special.
There was plenty that Hornblower could have remembered from that: the humiliation of not exactly knowing how to go about it and having Smith make exasperated, impatient noises, the strangeness of having to spit in his hand before he went in. The way that it felt utterly different from being in a woman, normally, much harder, much drier, and tighter than he would have imagined from a girl who'd been working as long as this one.
What he ended up remembering, though, was the noises she had made. She'd gone limp in his hands, in fact; he'd had to hold her up because they were kneeling on the bed together, and then, she made these weak noises. They had almost been mewling noises, almost whimpers. She had lain in his arms, limp as a coil of thin rope while he fucked her, and while Hornblower later realized that she had been making the noises because of pain, that she had been so limp because she had been trying to relax, it had all been exciting at the time, and that weakess, those noises were what stayed with him. They characterized sodomy of that sort for him, and later, when the Renown was at sea, and he was swaying in his cot and thinking of the new lieutenant who had come aboard that week, the one with the handsome eyes and the way of smiling, sweet as a girl despite the size of his shoulders and the roughness of his face -- he smiled at Hornblower sweet as a girl, and Hornblower wondered whether Bush might make similar noises if he were being fucked from the back, too.
It was difficult to imagine, true, but it was the difficulty of imagining, Hornblower decided, his hand slipping underneath his blanket, that made it pleasurable.
---
Up to that point, Bush only had Hornblower a few times -- twice when they were lieutenants, another time when Hornblower had been newly confirmed as commander and they were both drunk with both happiness and good brandy over his new command. Once, while on the Sutherland, that counted somewhat but also didn't really count there had been no penetration. Bush had spent himself against Hornblower's bare back, and given what else they did together, it barely rated.
Until that night, then, Bush had never had Hornblower as a grown man, as a captain. Neither of them were particularly drunk, though Hornblower had talked himself hoarse during the evening, and he was undressing himself for bed when Bush came up behind him. The noise of his wooden foot, then his fingers on Hornblower's bare shoulder, his collarbone. His spine. Hornblower had looked at him; Bush had flushed a little, looked back at Hornblower's collarbone near where he had touched it, and then when Hornblower went on undressing, Bush got up and made sure the door was barred.
He had Hornblower on his stomach that night. They put a pillow under Hornblower's hips, and Hornblower had to bite his lip and grunt into the mattress when Bush started working that first finger in. It was not, Hornblower knew, that Bush wasn't any good at it. No, Bush was good at the pacing, at soothing and keeping him quiet and moving him so that they both would be more comfortable. He moved with more assurance about it than Hornblower did, and Hornblower had all those years of practice, and consequently, the whole notion of who Bush had been fucking in order so as to be this practiced at opening a man -- it carried Hornblower away in knots of possibility until Bush's finger brushed against something inside Hornblower. He would have jumped off the mattress if Bush hadn't been expecting it and held him down for it, and there was very little thinking on Hornblower's part after that.
He realized that Bush had been waiting to fuck him like this for years; he knew that Bush had done it to others in the meantime, but even the jealousy went away after Bush replaced his fingers with his cock and began fucking him, slow and steady, but so deep each time that Hornblower knew that he'd curled his fingers into fists and had tears standing in his eyes and was still pushing himself back against Bush for more.
Everything, Hornblower found, dropped away in that mix of lust and pain.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 04:08 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 12:49 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 04:24 am (UTC)You make my brain go to fantastic places!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 12:54 am (UTC)*loves on you*
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 04:32 am (UTC)I've run out of things to say to you about your hot fics. So you already know what I'm thinking. I hope.
I loooooove Bush getting to finally fuck Horatio into the mattress.
<3333333333333333333333
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 12:56 am (UTC)And yes, I know. And I still think you're way too kind. ^_^
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 04:37 am (UTC)the whole notion of who Bush had been fucking so that he was so practiced at opening a man up carried Hornblower away in knots of possibility
Yes, indeed.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 05:06 am (UTC)And yeah. There needs to be more fic about Bush fucking Hornblower into the mattress. There just really needs to be -- tonight, I started drafting the Top 10 Reasons Why Horatio Hornblower Takes It Up the Ass.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 01:07 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 01:02 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 01:47 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 02:11 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 02:13 am (UTC)Just saying. XD
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 02:22 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 02:31 am (UTC)LEGENDARY!
XD
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 09:49 am (UTC)(SO sorry, I just don't have time to read anything this evening!)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 01:04 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-30 06:19 am (UTC)I love this line particularly: In fact, Hornblower would have noted it a triumph when, a few days after they'd rounded the Cape and Bush was lying against the captain's table with his trousers down around his ankles, and Hornblower managed to get an actual moan out of Bush... but ALL of it. What can I say, really?
Fuck!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 01:04 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 01:08 am (UTC)And yeah. If McGann had the sexual charisma of celery in that? Boy, I need to go vegetable shopping more often. *____________* that was a lot of motherfucking hot.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 01:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 01:14 am (UTC)No, seriously. I'm not kidding. They're gay. Bush makes Hornblower curtains at one point.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 04:28 pm (UTC)And CHRIST though, that first screencap - am I a BAD bunny to immediately have thought "If only that was HORRY instead of a woman there"??? *dies*
Ok, off to read fic now. *is already dying*
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 10:07 pm (UTC)Fucking Bloody GUH.
(Lol and it seems you have brought out the Britishness in me *snorts and loves*)
Am so glad I saved these as a reward, as it most certainly was!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 01:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 01:50 am (UTC)*waits*
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 11:36 pm (UTC)These are excellent. All the last lines are so well done.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 01:15 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-11 11:50 pm (UTC)fucking awesome.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 01:16 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 12:09 am (UTC)Helloooooo, hot story.
(no subject)
Date: 2006-05-12 01:18 am (UTC)