FIC: Horatio Hornblower - Charting a Course

[fajrdrako_fic]

Title: Charting a Course
Author: fajrdrako
Fandom: Horatio Hornblower
Genre: Slash
Characters: Horatio/Pellew
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Not mine, no claims, all property of the C.S. Forester estate ITV3 and A&E.
Note: Set after "The Duel", when Horatio is on the Indefatigable, but early in the series. Thanks go to gem225 for beta-reading this.


Charting a Course

Fingers unhesitatingly found the right spot on the chart, the compass poised on the significant co-ordinates. "Here," said Acting Lieutenant Hornblower, with the satisfaction of having solved a tricky problem of navigation and logistics. Leaning on his elbows on the chart spread out across the table, he glanced up at Captain Pellew to see if he'd followed the course of his explanation. Mr. Hornblower's mathematical skill exceeded that of most of Pellew's senior officers. His ingenuity was equally unmatched, despite his lack of experience. "You see, sir? It might save us a day's sailing, and they wouldn't expect us there!"

He was referring, of course, to the French and this infernal, eternal blockade. Pellew had understood his plan; followed his logic; indeed, admired his perspicacity in conceiving it.

More than that, he admired the sparkle in the wide brown eyes which waited for his reply. He admired the hands which held the instrument against the chart, the finger - graceful and long, the nail cut short - which traced the path he wished the captain to follow.

The path the captain wanted to follow was leading him away from the map and the diagram. He cleared his throat lightly. "Yes, Mr. Hornblower." While he was looking up like that, Horatio's throat seemed delicately exposed, pale in contrast to the black neckerchief below it. Pellew thought about untying the knot, unwrapping the black cloth, exposing and revealing the warm skin beneath.

"It would mean some tricky sailing here," said Horatio, his finger tapping the black lines which indicated a headland on the map. "I think the Indy is manoeuverable enough for it, though, given good winds."

"That is never a given," said Pellew, with asperity. His attention had been caught by a lock of Horatio's hair, which dropped across his forehead in an inviting curl. Pellew raised his chin a little, and wandered over to the stern windows.

"It's been fair all week, sir. If the weather holds another day - and I believe it will - "

"You believe, Mr. Hornblower? I know men who believe in the second coming, and others who believe the earth is flat. I prefer not to stake my life on it."

"All right, then," said Horatio, bending again over the map. "We could go this way - it wouldn't be quite as fast, but we can afford a few extra
hours. Or maybe...." His voice trailed off. He was measuring some line on the map, visible only in his own imagination. Pellew smiled to think of the abstract calculations in that head: he'd seldom met such an adept navigator. Not that he intended to say so aloud. Or at least . . . not just now.

He stared in bemusement at the young man bent over the chart. In the short midshipman's jacket and fine-fitting trousers, the finest arse in the Royal Navy was truly a sight to feast the eyes on. The hair, neatly tied in its queue, left the tanned nape visible, in the spot where a man might rest his lips and taste the inviting skin.

Pellew took a deep breath. Fantasy was all very well, but he should at least attend to whatever Mr. Hornblower was about to say.

He never learned what Mr. Hornblower had been about to say. Horatio turned his head at that moment to glance at the captain over his shoulder, and whatever words he was about to utter were left forgotten. Instead he favoured Pellew with a wide, wild smile. It made his dimples deepen and his eyes shine. It was a glance of sheer invitation.

But Mr. Hornblower was no wanton, Pellew knew it. He knew it even as Horatio lowered his eyes again to the table and said softly, "Come here, sir."

To study the map, or for more personal matters? The ambiguity of the request drew Pellew, dangerous as a lit fuse. He walked slowly over to Horatio and stood beside him. Horatio moved his body only slightly - bracing himself against the unceasing tilt of the ship - and that was enough to bring his body close against Pellew's.

The compass and the pencil fell from Horatio's hand. The pencil rolled across the desktop and onto the floor. Horatio did not move to go after it.

He said softly, "Sir?" and looked directly at Pellew.

These were eyes that read him like a piece of poetry; eyes that understood him like a mathematical proof. Anything he might have said became impossible. He could only respond to the desire in that dark, eloquent gaze by wrapping his arms around Horatio's waist, leaning against him, his chest to Horatio's back, so that his lips reached that spot at the back of his neck, the spot he had been looking at. He pressed his lips gently to the skin.

The taste of Horatio was like the jolt of a drug, or the first notes of a symphony. Horatio made a little sound, a little movement, and that moan aroused Pellew like nothing he had ever heard. With his arms around Horatio, his hands flat against his chest, he could feel the heartbeat within; could feel the lad sharing his excitement.

"Mr. Hornblower," he whispered into the ear so close to his lips.

Horatio twisted his neck, squirming, and brought his lips to Pellew's in a kiss. Inexperienced as he was, Horatio's kiss was hasty, over-eager, and nearly missed its mark. Pellew turned him in his arms to kiss him properly. "You see?" he murmured, his hand running down Horatio's breast. Somehow Horatio was now leaning his arse against the table with Pellew pulled close to him, so that his long legs stretched to the floor on either side of Pellew's body, and their lips were of a level. Pellew could feel how that contact put a shiver through Horatio's body as his cock hardened against Pellew's. The lad was afire.

The mouth was as soft and eager as those amazing eyes. When the kiss stopped, Horatio reached up to touch Pellew's face. His expression was naked and vulnerable: need and desire, fear and hope, and a searing love. "Sir?" he whispered. His lip trembled.

There was a brisk knock on the door.

Pellew said softly, "I think we must continue this conversation later, Mr. Hornblower. You will remember the matter?"

"With all my heart."

Pellew let go of him abruptly. He strode to the other side of the table, barking, "Enter!" as he did so. It was Mr. Bracegirdle and Mr. Bowles, with information they had taken on the winds and the latest readings.

Once again, heads bent over the chart. Mr. Hornblower's compass and mathematical expertise came into play. As he explained the route he preferred, tracing it on the map as he spoke, his index finger shook.

Pellew shot him a reassuring smile. He knew how Horatio felt. He was somewhat shaky himself.

He received a grateful smile in return: Mr. Hornblower was in control of himself again, though somewhat distracted. It was not something Bracegirdle or Bowles would notice.

After some wrangling between Horatio and Bowles, they reached a satisfactory agreement regarding the Indefatigable's navigation. Mr. Bracegirdle stated his acceptance and Pellew put his seal of approval on the enterprise.

"It appears our new course is charted," said Bracegirdle, with satisfaction. "May it continue well."

Horatio's eyes met Pellew's, a trace of devilment in them. "I certainly hope it will," he said, the flash of a dimple appearing and disappearing at the corner of his mouth.

"A new course, indeed," said Pellew, with a nod. Its outcome remained unknown; following it would be, as with all journeys on the sea, both a mystery and an adventure.