Hornblower Fic: The List
TITLE: The List
PAIRING: Bush/Hornblower, Hornblower/Kennedy
RATING: R, Slash
WORD COUNT: 1000
WARNINGS: Crack and general silliness
DISCLAIMER: None of the boys are mine
SUMMARY: Getting drunk has certain...benefits
NOTES: Ummm I have no idea what possessed me to write this. It was originally supposed to be for the Lust prompt for the 7DS challenge, but I had a bit of a writer's block. After reading several rather hot and inspiring Sherlock fics - I ended up finishing this at 1am last night. The first part was inspired by a recent discussion about who would win a drinking competition
Kennedy entered the boardroom just as Bush was halfway through his second bottle of Madeira. “Ahhhhhhhh Mr Kennedy!” he cried. “Just the man I was looking for. Hic! Beg pardons.” He blushed. “A glass of wine with you sir?”
The other officer sat heavily on a chair and accepted a glass with a sigh. He drained it with one swallow, relaxing as the alcohol burnt its way down his throat. He helped himself to one refill, then another. Bush grinned and matched him glass for glass. “Snag the pretty…pretty… man yet? Mr Kennedy?
“It didn’t work, Mr Bush,” he said, staring gloomily down at the dark red liquid swirling in his glass.
“’Tis pity,” Bush sighed and sniffed tragically. “Aye, t’was a fine plan…”
Kennedy tore at his hair. “What can I do Mr Bush? I’m so desperate. I can’t sleep at night because I’m always thinking about him. Soon that bastard Sawyer’s going to get locked up for neglect of duty because I keep on staring at him when I’m on watch duty…. Sir?”
Bush leapt out of his chair and slammed a fist on the table. “The lisht!!!!!!!!!!” He roared hoarsely.
“List, Sir?”
“Your lishhhht,” Bush’s shaking fingers were stabbing into Kennedy’s chest. “The lisshhht of reasons. Hic!”
“Oh. You mean the one I wrote earlier? What about it?”
Bush looked surprised, as if the answer was obvious. “G-give to him.”
“But-“ Kennedy looked around warily. “He’ll recognise the writing.”
“N-not good?”
“Bit not good, sir.”
Bush growled and fumbled in his pockets, muttering under his breath as he turned out one odd item after another. Kennedy watched his shaky movements in amusement and took another swig of the wine. They had resorted to drinking from the bottle now.
“AAAHHHHHHH huzzah!!!!!!” Bush flushed scarlet in triumph and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, a bottle of ink and a squashed quill. He dropped the items onto the table and tried to sit down again, but promptly fell onto the floor with shocking loudness.
Kennedy giggled. Bush looked like a lost puppy, staring forlornly at the swaying boarded ceiling. “I mished the chair.”
Still grinning widely, Kennedy helped his superior officers onto a chair and looked warily as Bush reached for and almost tipped over the ink. “What are you doing, Sir?”
Bush looked at him in astonishment. “Writing f-for you.”
“Oh.”
Bush dipped his quill into what he thought was the inkbottle. “Now… Mr-Mr-“ Bush scratched a few words on the dirty parchment and frowned at the nib.
“That was the Madeira, sir. Here’s the ink.”
“Veeerryy g-g-good sir.” His hands moved jerkily across the parchment. Kennedy blushed when he saw what Bush had written on the page
You know you want to bugger Hornblower when…
Bush glared blearily up at him and covered the paper with one large horny hand. “Speak, or f-forever h-hold your peace.”
Kennedy coughed. “Um… I can’t sleep at night became I’m thinking about Horatio.”
You can’t sleep because you’re wondering what Hornblower is doing and imaging Hornblower’s sharing your cot, curling his long, limber body around yours.
“I spend so much time looking at his hair and marvelling at how luxuriant it is.”
You look at his hair, constantly, and images what it would be like run your fingers through its mess of black curls and pull it as he’s swallowing you…
“I make excuses to be on deck when he bathes.”
You watch him dancing as the cold, salty water is sprayed onto him, lips dry as it envelops his slim figure, trickling down his limbs, his shiny muscles contracting and relaxing, the curve of his back and butt and his cock…
“Mr Bush - why are you writing so much?”
Bush glanced furtively around the wardroom and held a trembling finger to his lips. “Shh!!! Shh!!! Just adding p-persuasive arguments. C-carry on, Mr Kenny.”
***
When he woke up the next morning, Bush’s head felt as if he had been run over by a 32 pounder. He swore, staggered out of his cot and reached for his pants, wishing that the ship wouldn’t sway so and the sound of holystones scrubbing the deck above was not so loud. He’ll have a talk with Matthews later, that’s for sure.
A small cough sounded from above him.
One hand clenched around the stiff linen. Another shot automatically downwards. He opened one bleary eye and saw Hornblower framed in the doorway, an almost predatory look on his face.
“Mr Hornblower,” he growled. “What the devil are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to see you, William.”
Bush narrowed his eyes. Hornblower took a few step forwards until he was only a few inches away.
“I saw your… note.”
Note? Bush frowned, casting his memories back to last night. He fuzzily remembered drinking some lovely Madeira with Mr Kennedy. He remembered laughing and writing and…
Oh. Shit.
“Uh Mr Hornblower-“
“Horatio, please.” Pale long fingers were treading their way through his hair and Hornblower’s mouth was expelling hot, moist air on the surface of his skin. “I’ve wanted you so much, William, ever since I fell on top of you that first day.”
Bush groaned. It was not supposed to be like this. It was Lieutenant Kennedy, damn it, who was lusting after this gorgeous man in front of his. “Mr Hornblower- Horatio - I feel - I think you should know -“
“Don’t worry William,” Hornblower’s teeth nipped along the sinews of his neck and one hand reached down and squeezed his burgeoning erection. Bush moaned low and softly. “As soon as I recognise your beautiful script on that paper I read it and burnt it so we will not be discovered. I want to bugger you, William. I want to make you beg for me.”
Bush could contain himself no longer. After all, one must make the best of these opportunities when they present themselves. He pulled Hornblower’s head down and kissed him viciously - a broadside of teeth and tongue.
His last coherent thought before Hornblower’s cock made thinking impossible was how unfortunate Mr Kennedy was missing out.
This time.
PAIRING: Bush/Hornblower, Hornblower/Kennedy
RATING: R, Slash
WORD COUNT: 1000
WARNINGS: Crack and general silliness
DISCLAIMER: None of the boys are mine
SUMMARY: Getting drunk has certain...benefits
NOTES: Ummm I have no idea what possessed me to write this. It was originally supposed to be for the Lust prompt for the 7DS challenge, but I had a bit of a writer's block. After reading several rather hot and inspiring Sherlock fics - I ended up finishing this at 1am last night. The first part was inspired by a recent discussion about who would win a drinking competition
Kennedy entered the boardroom just as Bush was halfway through his second bottle of Madeira. “Ahhhhhhhh Mr Kennedy!” he cried. “Just the man I was looking for. Hic! Beg pardons.” He blushed. “A glass of wine with you sir?”
The other officer sat heavily on a chair and accepted a glass with a sigh. He drained it with one swallow, relaxing as the alcohol burnt its way down his throat. He helped himself to one refill, then another. Bush grinned and matched him glass for glass. “Snag the pretty…pretty… man yet? Mr Kennedy?
“It didn’t work, Mr Bush,” he said, staring gloomily down at the dark red liquid swirling in his glass.
“’Tis pity,” Bush sighed and sniffed tragically. “Aye, t’was a fine plan…”
Kennedy tore at his hair. “What can I do Mr Bush? I’m so desperate. I can’t sleep at night because I’m always thinking about him. Soon that bastard Sawyer’s going to get locked up for neglect of duty because I keep on staring at him when I’m on watch duty…. Sir?”
Bush leapt out of his chair and slammed a fist on the table. “The lisht!!!!!!!!!!” He roared hoarsely.
“List, Sir?”
“Your lishhhht,” Bush’s shaking fingers were stabbing into Kennedy’s chest. “The lisshhht of reasons. Hic!”
“Oh. You mean the one I wrote earlier? What about it?”
Bush looked surprised, as if the answer was obvious. “G-give to him.”
“But-“ Kennedy looked around warily. “He’ll recognise the writing.”
“N-not good?”
“Bit not good, sir.”
Bush growled and fumbled in his pockets, muttering under his breath as he turned out one odd item after another. Kennedy watched his shaky movements in amusement and took another swig of the wine. They had resorted to drinking from the bottle now.
“AAAHHHHHHH huzzah!!!!!!” Bush flushed scarlet in triumph and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, a bottle of ink and a squashed quill. He dropped the items onto the table and tried to sit down again, but promptly fell onto the floor with shocking loudness.
Kennedy giggled. Bush looked like a lost puppy, staring forlornly at the swaying boarded ceiling. “I mished the chair.”
Still grinning widely, Kennedy helped his superior officers onto a chair and looked warily as Bush reached for and almost tipped over the ink. “What are you doing, Sir?”
Bush looked at him in astonishment. “Writing f-for you.”
“Oh.”
Bush dipped his quill into what he thought was the inkbottle. “Now… Mr-Mr-“ Bush scratched a few words on the dirty parchment and frowned at the nib.
“That was the Madeira, sir. Here’s the ink.”
“Veeerryy g-g-good sir.” His hands moved jerkily across the parchment. Kennedy blushed when he saw what Bush had written on the page
You know you want to bugger Hornblower when…
Bush glared blearily up at him and covered the paper with one large horny hand. “Speak, or f-forever h-hold your peace.”
Kennedy coughed. “Um… I can’t sleep at night became I’m thinking about Horatio.”
You can’t sleep because you’re wondering what Hornblower is doing and imaging Hornblower’s sharing your cot, curling his long, limber body around yours.
“I spend so much time looking at his hair and marvelling at how luxuriant it is.”
You look at his hair, constantly, and images what it would be like run your fingers through its mess of black curls and pull it as he’s swallowing you…
“I make excuses to be on deck when he bathes.”
You watch him dancing as the cold, salty water is sprayed onto him, lips dry as it envelops his slim figure, trickling down his limbs, his shiny muscles contracting and relaxing, the curve of his back and butt and his cock…
“Mr Bush - why are you writing so much?”
Bush glanced furtively around the wardroom and held a trembling finger to his lips. “Shh!!! Shh!!! Just adding p-persuasive arguments. C-carry on, Mr Kenny.”
***
When he woke up the next morning, Bush’s head felt as if he had been run over by a 32 pounder. He swore, staggered out of his cot and reached for his pants, wishing that the ship wouldn’t sway so and the sound of holystones scrubbing the deck above was not so loud. He’ll have a talk with Matthews later, that’s for sure.
A small cough sounded from above him.
One hand clenched around the stiff linen. Another shot automatically downwards. He opened one bleary eye and saw Hornblower framed in the doorway, an almost predatory look on his face.
“Mr Hornblower,” he growled. “What the devil are you doing here?”
“I’ve come to see you, William.”
Bush narrowed his eyes. Hornblower took a few step forwards until he was only a few inches away.
“I saw your… note.”
Note? Bush frowned, casting his memories back to last night. He fuzzily remembered drinking some lovely Madeira with Mr Kennedy. He remembered laughing and writing and…
Oh. Shit.
“Uh Mr Hornblower-“
“Horatio, please.” Pale long fingers were treading their way through his hair and Hornblower’s mouth was expelling hot, moist air on the surface of his skin. “I’ve wanted you so much, William, ever since I fell on top of you that first day.”
Bush groaned. It was not supposed to be like this. It was Lieutenant Kennedy, damn it, who was lusting after this gorgeous man in front of his. “Mr Hornblower- Horatio - I feel - I think you should know -“
“Don’t worry William,” Hornblower’s teeth nipped along the sinews of his neck and one hand reached down and squeezed his burgeoning erection. Bush moaned low and softly. “As soon as I recognise your beautiful script on that paper I read it and burnt it so we will not be discovered. I want to bugger you, William. I want to make you beg for me.”
Bush could contain himself no longer. After all, one must make the best of these opportunities when they present themselves. He pulled Hornblower’s head down and kissed him viciously - a broadside of teeth and tongue.
His last coherent thought before Hornblower’s cock made thinking impossible was how unfortunate Mr Kennedy was missing out.
This time.