Title: Blemish
Fandom: Horatio Hornblower (movieverse)
Pairing: Horatio/Maria Horatio/Archie (implied) Horatio/Bush (implied)
Author: nicole s
Rated: R
Spoilers: Up to and including Duty
Summary: It's Horatio's wedding night. No, it's not het fic, really!!

Disclaimer: Horatio Hornblower and the characters herein are properties of CS Forester. No harm is intended in any way.

Thanks to for hand holding, mutual squeeing and beta. She rocks so very very hard!!

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Horatio flexed his toes against the cool wooden floor and pulled the curtain back to look out the window. The Hotspur moored in the harbour below, her blue pennant streaming in the breeze. Suddenly a small boat entered his frame of vision, the imperfections in the glass distorted her lines, giving her a long, squat appearance. He recognized Mr.Bush heading out to the Hotspur, the oars sloppily rowing along. Horatio sighed, he knew the men were all drunk, he'd seen them before he came upstairs. Unfortunately they had to sail in the morning and with Horatio otherwise engaged, Mr.Bush needed to ready the ship - drunk or not they had work to do. He pursed his lips and rocked back and forth on his feet. They needed water, of course, and they were low on certain stores such as dried peas and salt pork.

The outline of the ship and the boat started to fade in the swirl of fog and twilight in the late summer evening. He swore he could hear the men singing as they made their way out to the ship. Hammocks were to be piped down at the next bell. If he had his spyglass...

The door behind him opened and he turned, letting the curtain fall back into place. Maria walked toward him. The nervous tension that had left him as he worried about his ship returned tenfold to the pit of his stomach tumbling around the champagne and cake.

They kissed. It wasn't a passionate kiss, he broke it off before she did, but he embraced her strongly just the same. He admitted her plump body was very comfortable and warm and easy to hold on to. After some time, Maria suggested they get into bed, which he welcomed, because he was exhausted, but then she blushed and giggled and terror consumed him again.

He settled beside Maria among the down pillows and sweet-smelling sheets, his heart pounding in his chest. He hadn't been this nervous since his first day on deck. This time, he'd make sure he would not throw up.

He kissed her again, taking care to linger, to at least make it worth his and her while. Unfortunately, it didn't elicit the same feelings as when he'd kissed other people. Mariette had given him a thrill down to his toes and Archie had given him solace and safety that translated into an all-encompassing warmth. He willed himself to feel more than distant arousal, after all, this was his wedding night.

In fact, Horatio had been so concerned about his upcoming 'performance' that in a fit of complete spontaneity, he'd asked Lt. Bush (in the strictest of confidence, of course) what one did with a wife. The glass of port Bush held in his hand stopped halfway to his mouth and trembled for a second; Horatio saw alternating looks of sympathy and mirth cross his face. Bush looked up and Horatio felt his face go red, in a display much unbefitting a captain.

"Sir?"

Horatio cleared his throat. "I've. I've been. Of course." Bush nodded. Horatio took a sip of port and nearly choked. He pressed a napkin to his mouth and held up his free hand to indicate he was fine, before Bush could ask.

When he recovered, he cleared his throat many times before blurting out, "She's to be my wife, William! Not some strumpet in Jamaica."

Bush unsuccessfully hid an amused look with a healthy sip of port. "She is still a woman."

A pained look crossed Horatio's face.

"Well, sir," Bush smiled, "I suppose you start by kissing her."

Maria nearly lunged for Horatio as he reached for her, their lips met, teeth clinking briefly before they settled into light kissing. Her lips were indeed soft and it wasn't at all unpleasant. "It is under my impression that women, certain women, like to be petted. To say, sir, if you move your hands about, it's quite pleasurable."

Horatio's right hand cupped Maria's face while his left trailed down her side to rest on her hip, caressing the cotton of her nightdress.

"About?"

"About, sir. Particularly the small of the back and the arms." Lt. Bush then proceeded to demonstrate by caressing his own arms with his hands.

This wasn't so bad. If they could just stay like this, kissing and moving his hands about, he'd be happy, but Maria had other plans. She surprised him by rolling them over so he was suddenly on top, her earnest face looking up at him. He brushed the curls out of her face and kissed her again.

"There are two expressions of thought, sir. One is that wives have want the act over with as soon as possible, the other is to use a slower approach and to, as they say, prolong and heighten the sensations as long as possible."

An image had come to Horatio's mind in his cabin and here with Maria and that was of Lt. Bush pleasuring a young woman, as he'd seen him do in Jamaica. He'd certainly prolonged the process, causing Horatio to seek him out for being late for breakfast one morning. He'd opened the door slightly to find Lt. Bush in the throes of passion, the muscles in his back moving as he thrust into the young woman. Maria wriggled underneath him and gasped as he dug into her hip, and he felt sorry that his arousal was not a result from her.

He reached underneath Maria's nightdress to remove her drawers, but to his surprise found none there. She giggled again as his hands touched nothing but skin but she soon shivered then let out a squeak then a sigh as he caressed her. Her skin was soft, much softer than he had supposed, and something he was not used to, being at sea most of the time. He removed her nightdress then knelt up and pulled his nightshirt over his head, eliciting a gasp from Maria. He supposed she'd never seen a fully naked man before, but while running a rooming house, she had probably encountered upon a few in various states of undress in her time. He explored her breasts, her arms, the rest of her body as well he could, but he feared if he didn't soon start things, he may never finish.

Maria looked upon him approvingly and drew him in for another kiss. He closed his eyes as he entered her and thought of William, his broad back and thick fingers, and how Horatio used to watch him shave under the scuttle when they shared a wardroom. Maria gasped and clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle a shriek.

"Ssssh," he said and kissed her neck, tasting her skin, sweet with lavender. Archie had tasted of dust and sweat, but that had been a different time, a different feeling. Archie had fulfilled a need that neither of them knew they were missing.

He thrust into her, the image of Archie bright in his mind until it was replaced by Bush. Horatio was perfectly aware it was wicked to think of someone else while with another and felt bad for it. Again, it was the image of Bush's shirtless back as he shaved under the scuttle that aroused him most. The back was familiar, he'd seen it many times, yet he always wanted to reach out and touch the pale scars that ran along the flesh, to explore the difference in texture.

Living in close quarters of the wardroom, Horatio had touched Bush many times in passing, knew the calluses on his hands, the roughness of his skin, seen the patches of hair on his chest and other places. While on duty, Bush was not content to wander about the quarterdeck, his glass tucked under his arm, often climbing to the tops and crosstrees, leaving his arms and legs muscular and toned that translated to a firmness to the touch underneath the uniform. Horatio had even felt the back that was currently preying on his mind, but had no time to linger, just a light dash of his fingers as he brushed by.

Maria made another sound, but he heard only William in his mind. Their conversation had caused them to drink more than usual and his voice had started to slur. They had concluded by Lt. Bush advising him that afterwards wives liked to be held and it was well and good to do so as they would only have pillows to simper into while their husbands were at sea. The port had been drunk, two bottles at least, and with the arousing conversation turning about in his mind, Lt. Bush excused himself, leaving Horatio with a warmth in his loins he could not soon quench and imagining Bush performing the acts he'd just described.

Horatio thrust three final times, groaning, while Maria mewed again and clutched his shoulders, her eyes shut tight. Now completely relaxed, he kissed her languidly. It hadn't been so awful; in fact it had felt very good.

"I love you," she whispered.

"And you," he mumbled as he drifted off to sleep.

He woke early and dressed quickly, letting Maria sleep. He noticed she'd put her nightdress on sometime in the night. He didn't love her. Not as he loved Archie, nor William. He would die for William as Archie had for Horatio. And there was that part of him that desired William in other ways that, for now, would only rest in the back of his mind.

Horatio turned to the window and watched as the Hotspur piped up hammocks in the rain. Maria stirred behind him. Yes, she was handsome and kind and would make him a very good wife. He only hoped that one day he'd make her a good husband.

End


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