by Stella Maris

FEEDBACK to Stella

"You bastards! You filthy, Dago bastards!"

Oldroyd lashed out at the soldiers who mocked him as their leader locked the cell door. Amidst their laughter he heard the word putain and deduced that they were speculating as to his mother's occupation. Furious, he let fly with a stream of the most foul-mouthed invective he could muster as, still laughing, they sauntered off and back out into the baking heat of the courtyard, making obscene gestures and comments. Impotent with rage, he slammed his hand against the bars and roared with anger and frustration, glaring after the soldiers as he imagined the most unspeakable acts of revenge.

"Ah -- so they've sent you to keep me company, eh, Oldroyd?"

The shock of an unexpected voice breaking into the silence of the assumed-empty cell made Oldroyd whirl round. More startling still was the identity of its owner, seated on the bench behind him.

"M-Mr 'Ornblower, sir! W-why 'ave t'Dagoes chucked you in 'ere?"

Horatio spread his hands and affected a grotesque grimace. "Perhaps they simply didn't like my face," he chuckled. "Still, I can't complain." He favoured the young seaman with a broad grin. "At least I have you for company, Oldroyd. You're a member of the Indy's crew, and you're a fine, upstanding English sailor. Things could be much, *much* worse."

Oldroyd flushed even redder than the hue already bestowed by the sun on his fair skin -- the curse of all red-haired and blue-eyed Englishmen in hot climes. "You shouldn't say such things, Mr 'Ornblower. Not after what 'appened at El Ferrol."

Horatio smiled, understanding. "That doesn't matter now," he assured Oldroyd. "What happened at El Ferrol is all in the past."

Still uncomfortable, Oldroyd scuffed at the floor with the toe of his shoe. "Still shouldn't 'ave sided wi' Mr 'Unter instead o' wi' you, sir," he replied primly.

"No," the young officer sighed, grinning ruefully. "Perhaps not. But what's done is done, Oldroyd, and we must look forward, not back. Oh, and since we're stuck here in this accursed stone box together, and likely to remain so for the foreseeable future, I would prefer it -- and deem it an honour -- if you would call me by my first name: Horatio."

"Oh, *aye*, sir -- er, *'Oratio*. Yes, sir, I will -- er -- *Horatio*..."

"And you are -- er...?"

"Oh, *Thomas*, sir -- er -- Mr 'Ornbl-*'Oratio*." He clicked his tongue in irritation. "Oh, damn, blast, and *bugger*! *Bloody* bugger!" He looked up at Horatio and reddened even more. "Beg pardon, sir. *'Oratio*, sir."

Hornblower bit his lip to quell his sympathetic amusement at Oldroyd's discomfort, but couldn't disguise the twinkle in either his voice or his warm brown eyes. "It's all right, Thomas -- I've heard *far* worse. But thank you for thinking of my sensibilities," he smiled, affectionate laughter bubbling to the surface again. "You're a good man, Thomas," he added, getting up and buffing Oldroyd's shoulder gently. "And you're *just* like me, you know. We're both young, and still have a lot to learn about the sea and the life of a sailor."

Oldroyd thought about it. He pursed his lips and nodded. "Mmmm. You're right, sir. Only just about got us sea-legs, eh, sir?" he grinned.

Hornblower threw up his hands in exasperation. "It's *Horatio*!" he exclaimed. Then he grinned back. "But yes, Thomas, I agree with you. Or would you prefer me to call you *Tom*?"

Quite frankly, with Mr Hornblower smiling at him as he was smiling now, Oldroyd suddenly didn't care if this glorious creature called him "Thomas", "Dobbin", or even "Emma Hamilton" so long as he kept looking at him like *that*. "Aye. Call me *Tom*, sir -- 'Oratio."

Horatio laughed. "Well, Tom. This is a pretty pickle we find ourselves in and no mistake. What brings *you* here?"

The light eyes sparkled with indignation. "Don't rightly *know*, sir -- 'Oratio. One minute I were out there playin' jacks wi' Stylesie an' Matthews, an' the next the Dagoes come up an' start accusin' Stylesie o' sommat -- roughin' 'im up, an' that. So I wades in an' defends 'im, like -- an' the next thing I know is I'm in 'ere. Wi' *you*." Cocking his head on one side, he studied the young lieutenant thoughtfully. "So what *you* in 'ere for, Mr 'Aitch?"

"Much the same as you, Tom," Horatio sighed. "I was defending Archie's honour."

"'Is *honour*?"

Horatio shook his head and rolled his eyes. "I *believe* they were suggesting that his parents were unmarried, his father a molester of animals, and his mother -- well, I'll wager you can imagine the rest for yourself."

"Oh aye, I can that!"

Horatio clasped his hands behind his back and walked towards the tiny window set into the thick wall. "Trouble now is, Tom, we may well be here for some time. We're going to need to find a way of passing the time until they release us." He turned back to look at Oldroyd. "Have you any suggestions as to how we might do that, Tom?"

"D-don't rightly kn-know, Mr Horatio," Oldroyd stammered, trying to hold his lieutenant's gaze. Shame-faced, he had to lower his head, overwhelmed by what he saw in Horatio's eyes.

"Oh, but *come* now -- I think you *do*, Tom..." The voice was low and seductive -- and now he was standing all too close, the warm, spicy male scent of him making Oldroyd's head spin.

"N-no, sir, *honest* I don't..."

Hornblower put a hand on Oldroyd's shoulder, letting its warmth seep into the other man's skin, then slid his hand up Oldroyd's neck in one slow, caressing movement until he was cradling the stubbled jaw. "Oh yes, Thomas; I think you *do*..."

For once in his life, Oldroyd was speechless -- and *helpless*, pinioned as he was by that lovely mouth and the unmistakable expression in those wonderful eyes. His limbs turned to water when Horatio leaned in to kiss and suck first his top lip and then the lower, before capturing his mouth in a kiss that left the seaman breathless and hopelessly lost. When his mouth was taken again and plundered by an eager tongue, Oldroyd couldn't help but respond. Winding his arms around Horatio's body he pulled him close, one hand grasping the tight buttocks and the other pressing into Horatio's mass of unruly curls, opening his mouth to deepen their kiss -- until, without warning, his knees gave way and he groaned in frustration, breaking the kiss. "No -- *don't*!"

"What's *wrong*, Tom?" Horatio asked anxiously.

"M-my knees, Mr 'Aitch," Oldroyd apologized. Oh God, one look into those dark eyes and at those passion-stung lips and his knees were ready to do the same again.

"Poor Thomas," grinned Horatio. "On your knees too *often*, I shouldn't wonder..."

At that, a delicious vision swam through Oldroyd's mind, making him shudder. "*Oooh*...!"

Misunderstanding this reaction, Horatio put his hands on Oldroyd's shoulders and looked at him with concern. "Don't be afraid -- you can tell *me*. Are you a *virgin*, Tom? With men, I mean."

For a moment Oldroyd stared at him in disbelief -- then shook his head, laughing. "No -- I *know* what goes on, Mr 'Aitch. It were Stylesie 'oo showed me t'ropes -- what to do, like. 'An 'e looked out for me -- kept that bloody bastard Simpson away from me."

"And I'm glad to hear it," Horatio smiled kindly, remembering all too well what had happened to Archie. "So you're no stranger to love-making between men, Tom?"

"No, I -- Mr *Horatio*, sir!" Oldroyd could only stare in utter amazement as Horatio stripped off his shoes, stockings, breeches and shirt, leaving him naked and devourable barely a foot away: and when Horatio untied his queue and shook his long hair free, the accompanying sway of his full, stout prick made Oldroyd shiver with delight.

Horatio closed the space between them. "Is there something wrong, Tom?" he whispered into Oldroyd's ear, fingers reaching up to comb through the tousled white-gold mane before tugging off the young seaman's shirt.

"*Nooo*....!" Oldroyd moaned, as the full lips captured first one nipple, then the other. Eager hands tugged down his breeches, his stockings and shoes having already gone; before he knew it, a hot, naked, strong, and *very* aroused male body was wrapped around his own, while a persistent tongue and warm mouth sucked the very life-breath from him. His cock and balls were pressed hard against Horatio's: instinctively his hips bucked, pressing his cock into Horatio's groin.

Soon the two young sailors were grinding frantically against each other...mouths kissing and sucking...teeth biting...and hands gripping each other's buttocks as they grappled like wrestlers, straining to press ever closer against each other. Oldroyd groaned into Horatio's open mouth as two of the lieutenant's sweat-moistened fingers slid between his hot arse-cheeks and probed the tight, puckered hole before plunging in. Almost as one they steadied their movements to a slower, more measured rate, Horatio's fingers fucking Oldroyd to the same rhythm. As their pace quickened again, Horatio pressed Oldroyd against the wall, so that the stone scraped his back and shoulders each time he was slammed against it by Horatio's powerful thrusts.

Their bodies slick with sweat and their cocks rubbing ever more frantically, the sound of their moans, gasps and harsh breathing seemed to fill the small cell. And then suddenly Horatio pulled out of Oldroyd's arms. Half-delirious with pleasure, Oldroyd protested -- and then felt the other man's mouth envelop his jerking cock and begin sucking, the practiced fingers deep in his arse again still matching their rhythm. Now glad of the stout wall behind to brace himself against, Oldroyd wound his fingers into Horatio's mane and thrust into the welcoming heat of his mouth until finally he climaxed, howling his release and clutching at the silken tangle of his lover's hair.

As he spiralled back to reality, Oldroyd watched dreamily as Horatio masturbated. Eyes closed and head back, his chest and hips pumping with effort, his fingers moved rapidly until he followed Oldroyd to orgasm, spattering them both with sticky jets of semen. But coming back to reality reminded Oldroyd all too powerfully of the fact that he was nothing more than a common sailor -- and Horatio was a promising lieutenant, expected to do well in his career in His Majesty's Navy. Suddenly miserable, Oldroyd sighed and sagged against the wall.

"What's wrong, Tom?" Horatio's voice was anxious, despite his ragged gasps for breath. "Did I not please you? Did you not enjoy what we did?"

Oldroyd shook his head. "Oh, but I *did*, sir! But t'ain't *that*, sir. It's *you*."

"*Me*?" Horatio's beautiful face looked like a lost angel's.

Embarrassed, Oldroyd sighed, clenching and unclenching his fists. "Well -- it's just that -- I'm an ordin'ry seaman, Horatio, an' you're a lieutenant. T'ain't *right*, sir, you suckin' my cock an' ev'rythin'. This feels all wrong, Mr 'Aitch. Consider your position!"

Horatio's lips unfurled into a feral grin. "Would you rather be kneeling at *my* feet, Mr Oldroyd? Would you rather it were *my* cock in *your* mouth?"

"No -- *yes* -- I mean..."

Horatio got to his feet and wrapped his arms around Oldroyd's upper body, effectively trapping him. He stank of sweat and sex and semen and Oldroyd felt all control slipping away from him again. "If you *wished* to suck my cock, I wouldn't resist you, Tom. Here, we're equals, stripped bare of everything that divides us. *Literally*. We stand before each other naked in *every* way." He kissed Oldroyd's nose. "And I *like* the thought of my cock in your mouth, Thomas." Oldroyd liked the idea too: he also liked the sound of the way Hornblower said "Thomas"... "But with regard to my position... Shall I tell you what *I* think, Thomas? While we're here in this cell, the only position *I* want is to be on my hands and knees before you with your cock either in my mouth or in my arse."

"*Sir*!" Oldroyd exclaimed, trying to look away.

Horatio's grip tightened on his arms, his expression one of almost unholy intent. "*Come* now, Thomas -- don't tell me that such a notion doesn't *please* you..."

Oldroyd closed his eyes and whimpered, concentrating on the feel of the sweat on his gritty skin and not on what his groin was telling him...what he was feeling...what he *truly* desired... "*Don't*..."

A tongue began flicking at Oldroyd's nipples. "*Don't*?" The voice was muffled, but the amusement in it was clearly detectable.

"*No*..."

"*Yes*..."

The whirl of air and the sudden coolness as Horatio released him made Oldroyd open his eyes to see the lieutenant on his hands and knees, facing away from him.

"*Horatio*..." He'd *intended* his voice to be firm; instead, the sound which emerged from his throat at the sight of that muscular, long-desired body spread out before him, the delicious globes of Horatio's arse tempting him beyond reason, was a combination of disbelief and longing. Horatio, long hair curling wildly around his face and falling into his eyes, looked every inch the wild, beautiful animal who'd haunted his dreams and fantasies since the capture of the (+it)Marie Galante(-it). "Ohh...*yes*..."

Horatio lifted his hips. "Thomas -- *Thomas*...*fuck* me..."

Oh God, the lithe beauty was *offering* himself: it was more than he could bear. Oldroyd knelt down behind him and began to explore the body about which he'd fantasized so often, his rough, calloused hands gliding over the smooth, sweat-slicked back and limbs. He stretched his body over Horatio's and the already-weeping head of his hardened cock licked slowly between the taut arse cheeks.

Horatio shuddered and instinctively pressed his buttocks against the other sailor's hot, thick organ. "That feels *wonderful*, Tom," he gasped. "Let your cock lie between while you kiss me... Here, let me show you..." He reached round and parted his buttocks with his hands, biting his lower lip as Oldroyd slid his cock between them, and squeezed the muscles tight against the slickened flesh. "*Yeesss*..." he moaned as Oldroyd reached up across his body once more, kissing and licking all the way up from his arse cheeks to the nape of his neck. The feel of Oldroyd's lightly-muscled body shifting above his, the taut nipples rubbing on his flesh, and the friction caused by their sweat mingled with the sand and grit of the stone cell were exquisite. The light stubble on Oldroyd's jaw was rough against his skin and made him shiver as the young sailor bit his neck, shoulders and ears and his lips suckled and kissed.

Hornblower arched his body, pressing closer. The large firm cock sliding between his clenched buttocks and Oldroyd's knowing, achingly rousing touch sent fire though his blood, bringing responses he would never had believed. This, plus his lover's responses -- Oldroyd moaning against his skin and into his ears as his prick moved in its velvet vice -- soon had Horatio's own cock pressing impatiently against his belly. And then he was mewling with pleasure, head thrown back, as Oldroyd's hands finally found his swollen cock and taut balls, cradling and tugging and teasing mercilessly. It was too much for Horatio, and he prised away the tormenting hands, thrusting his arse roughly into Oldroyd's groin. "Fuck me, Tom..." he pleaded. "*Fuck* me!"

Oldroyd's warm body slid from his back, and Horatio waited, impatient to begin. Oldroyd spat copiously on his hands -- and then Horatio heard him curse.

"What's wrong?"

"Not enough spit..."

Horatio turned to face him. "Let me," he grinned, taking his companion's erection between his lips and gradually adding to the lubrication of the organ with his saliva. Then he turned back, raising his arse and parting the cheeks to display its puckered hole. "*Now* -- *fuck me*...!"

"*Yes*, sir..." breathed Oldroyd. He rubbed his cock-head against the opening, then pushed forward using his whole weight, his cock sinking in right up to his pubic hair as Horatio cried out his name and Oldroyd tried hard to cling on to the knowledge that this maelstrom of sensation was *real*, not a fantasy.

For a moment they paused, locked together, adjusting to the feel of each others' body -- and then Oldroyd took his weight on his hands and began to thrust, Horatio's arse a hot, tight, greedy silken mouth around him. All that broke the silence now were their cries of passion -- and the rhythmic sounds of Oldroyd's cock pounding into Horatio's arse, his balls slapping against the quivering buttocks as Horatio thrust back to meet him. Oldroyd stretched out over Horatio as before, pressing the lieutenant's shoulders down so that their bodies could touch and he could continue his enthusiastic thrusting. Again he kissed and bit the other's skin, reaching down and around him to suckle at Horatio's nipples and tease them roughly with his fingers, making the young lieutenant howl with delight.

Their bodies were filthy, their skin sticky with semen and with grime stuck to their flesh with sweat. Oldroyd could feel his groin and thighs chafing against Hornblower's body as they fucked. He felt the kiss of the abrasions against the skin of his chest, belly and nipples as their bodies met and parted. This added to his enjoyment of their coupling, allowing him to feel fully alive and aware of what he was doing. For he *still* couldn't believe that here was the beautiful Lieutenant Horatio Hornblower stretched out naked beneath him as *he* -- Thomas Andrew Oldroyd -- filled his tight, hot arse with his cock, and fucked him, and made him moan and buck and writhe with every thrust of his hips. In his dreams he'd imagined Horatio on his hands and knees like this -- but he would never have believed that the wild abandon of the reality would be *far* superior to anything in his dreams...

"Thomas..." Horatio flailed an arm. "For the love of Christ, give me your hand, Tom..."

"What...?"

"Your hand -- give me your *hand*..." Oldroyd reached down and the lieutenant seized his arm fiercely, then wrapped Oldroyd's calloused hand around his twitching prick. "Frig me, Tom," he begged, jerking back and forth against the constraining fingers. "*Please*...!"

"Yes, sir..."

The combination of fucking and frigging soon had both men lost in a haze of overwhelming mutual pleasure. But it didn't matter. The confines of the suffocating Spanish cell were long forgotten as their sweating bodies moved as one, finding delight in the pagan voluptuousness and sheer animal nature of their rutting -- and now, as they bucked and squirmed against each other, grunting and howling in their blind passion, there was no *better* word for what they were doing.

Suddenly, Horatio began to moan and gasp, arms flailing; Oldroyd felt Horatio's cock spasm wildly and then spurt jets of hot semen as the young lieutenant climaxed noisily beneath him until, passion spent, Horatio let out a huge sigh and fell forward.

As he began to regather his senses, Horatio was more than content to enjoy the feel of the body still grinding into his and listen to Oldroyd's breathing, now no more than short, guttural grunts from the back of his throat. In truth he could have lain like that for the rest of the afternoon -- but there was still one final delight to be experienced.

He nudged Oldroyd with his elbow. "*Thomas*..." he groaned plaintively, voice weary with contentment. "Are you *never* going to come, Thomas? It feels so very good with your cock in my arse, Thomas, but I want to feel you *come*..."

Oldroyd leaned down and kissed his neck. "Not long, 'Oratio, I can assure yer -- not wi' my prick in your lovely tight arse-'ole...oh, sweet Jesus *Christ*...!"

For Oldroyd the cell disappeared into a fusion of himself and his lover: the only sure, steady things in his world now were his prick as it pounded into Horatio -- and then his roar of pleasure and his orgasm as he shot his seed into the welcoming body. For a few moments even this ceased to exist and he felt blissfully disorientated until, at last, his sense and reason returned. Finally sated and spent, he let his body slump onto Horatio's, burying his face in Hornblower's sodden hair. Supported by the hot, sweat-drenched body beneath him, he lay still, too boneless and sleepy and *exhausted* to move or do *anything* other than be aware of the rivulets of sweat trickling down his face and body, and of Horatio's wet body shifting lazily beneath him.

And then Horatio's voice, amused, drowsy and distant, reached his ear. "Oh, Thomas -- I'm *glad* the Dagoes threw us into gaol together!"

"Mebbe we ought to thank 'em for the privilege, eh, sir?"

"Good idea, Thomas!"

And then Horatio twisted round and put his hands on Oldroyd's shoulders. "Oh Thomas..." He smiled, kissing him with exquisite tenderness. "Thomas...my *Tom*," he whispered, his voice growing fainter. "My lovely, sweet, Thomas..."

Oldroyd reached up to touch Horatio's flattened curls. "Aye -- it *were* good, weren't it, 'Oratio," he said happily. There was no reply, so he said it again, only louder.

"I don't care *'ow* friggin' good it were, Oldroyd -- if you ain't off that bed an' out o' this cabin on the count o' three, the entire bloody *Indy*'s gonna know that you've been pullin' yer puddin' while dreamin' o' Mr 'Ornblower."

Oldroyd's eyes shot open. Instead of the hot, Spanish prison cell, he was below decks on the Indy, lying on the bed in Lieutenant Hornblower's cabin. "Oh *Christ*!" he exclaimed, mortified.

"*Quite* the slug-a-bed, ain't ya, when it ain't your bed to begin with," Styles sniffed. "Mr 'Aitch asked you to fetch 'is log gone 'alf an hour ago! Now Tommy, I'm well aware o' what a pretty poppet 'e is; I suppose you came down 'ere, got carried away, an' decided to dandle yer dick whiles 'avin' a little dream about Lieutenant 'Ornblower..." He cuffed Oldroyd around the back of the head. "It's a good thing as Captain Pellew needed to see 'im about Greengrass an' 'is itch!" he exclaimed, his voice petering out into a raucous rattle of laughter.

Oldroyd pouted glumly. "T'ain't *funny*, Stylesie," he said miserably.

"Well *I* think it is..."

Matthews' face appeared over Styles' shoulder. "Oi, oi!" he wailed. "What's all *this*?"

Styles' reply was dead-pan. "I'm just teachin' Mr Oldroyd the error of 'is ways..."

"I should *think* so," Matthews agreed, staring at Oldroyd and the bed-cover in horror. "What in the name of God are those *marks*?"

"Well if you don't know now, I ain't gonna tell ya," snickered Styles.

Matthews pressed his lips into a tight line and glared at the youngest sailor. "I don't know *what* you were thinkin' of," he snapped, ignoring Styles' sudden hoot of laughter. "I don't 'old wi' this, young Oldroyd; I don't 'old wi' it at all. What would Lieutenant 'Ornblower say if 'e could see you *now*? You get them -- *stains* off yerself an' the bed-cover. Get a bloody *move* on, lad! An' put yerself...*away*!" Styles shook his head and grinned after him as Matthews stomped back up the steps.

Oldroyd, still horrified at being discovered, ran a distracted hand through his tousled thatch. "'Ow much did you *'ear*?" he demanded, as he pushed his cock back into his breeches and buttoned himself up.

"*Plenty*," grinned Styles.

"You ain't gonna report me, are ya?"

Styles snorted. "Don't be so friggin' daft, mop-'ead. I don't think what *you've* done's against regulations... But Tom, you just get yourself cleaned up an' wash Mr 'Aitch's bed-cover."

Oldroyd looked at him mournfully. "This don't change nothin' between *us*, does it, Stylesie?"

Styles cuffed him affectionately around the ear. "*'Course* not! Can't dream about me *all* the time, can ya!" he added with a cheerful leer as he followed on after Matthews.

Oldroyd listened to Styles' cheerful whistling as he went on his way, and sighed. He might've *known* it had only been a dream -- but at least dreams were free, and it *had* been a good one...and after all, it was said that if you *wanted* something hard enough, *sometimes* dreams came true...

THE END

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