International "I think I'm chafing" day! challenge! CLOSED
FAQ (Please Read. It changes each time!)
Q. WHY?
A. Water + our heroes = AWESOME!
Q. Is it really International "I think I'm chafing" day!?
A. Better question: Why are your soaking wet heroes still wearing clothing?
Q. How does one participate?
A. Any fandom, any pairing (or no pairing!), any genre and anything that closely resembles those ( Read more... )
Q. WHY?
A. Water + our heroes = AWESOME!
Q. Is it really International "I think I'm chafing" day!?
A. Better question: Why are your soaking wet heroes still wearing clothing?
Q. How does one participate?
A. Any fandom, any pairing (or no pairing!), any genre and anything that closely resembles those ( Read more... )
"You blaspheme every day!" Drake stood boot to toe with Thomas, a reek of seawet, not very clean, linen rising from him. "With thy Italianate manners and cockteasing ways!" Suddenly Drake grabbed Thomas and pressed a rough kiss to his mouth.
Thomas moaned and responded. It had been a long time. "Ah, Francis. Tis not blasphemy to love." He began tugging at Drake's clinging garments. "Twere not for your wife, I shouldst not have refrained from continuing the intimacy we two shared in Ireland."
"I am still wed," Drake said between fierce kisses, and gropings of Thomas's rapidly erecting member.
"Aye, but murder is a worse sin by far than adultery," Thomas said softly. "I would rather have the lesser stain upon your soul, my love."
Drake went still and looked at him. "I must needs sacrifice to achieve my goal."
"But must the sacrifice be so great?"
"It is a great goal."
"God did not demand Isaac, Abraham's son, only the willingness to give him."
Drake's face changed yet again, confusion and anger vanishing. "Thy clever lawyer's tongue may have saved us both. How may I reward thee?"
Thomas smiled. "If thou wouldst use thy clever mariner's hands to free me from these, my encumbrances, that would please me greatly."
Drake laughed and obeyed, rendering Thomas damply naked in moments. Streaks of dye from his garments patterned his body. "My popinjay," Drake said as he knelt to take Thomas's member in his mouth.
"My sea-eagle," Thomas murmured as he carded his fingers through the knotted russet strands of Drake's hair. A moment later he cried out and came, tensing his sore leg muscle and staggering away from Drake. He braced himself against the edge of the table. "How wouldst thou have me?"
"As a feast, spread upon my table," Drake replied, casting charts and sketches to the deck.
Thomas grinned and lay his belly across the table, moaning when Drake used warm lamp-oil upon his nether opening. "Feast well, my dragon."
Drake laughed and lowered his trews, not bothering to undress further. "Thou art beautiful, my Thomas," he said as he mounted and began thrusting without further hesitation.
As Drake could not see his face, Thomas allowed himself a wince. Drake was not to be denied, nor controlled, nor advised. All Thomas could do was love him. Lips met the nape of his neck tenderly, and the wild thrusting slowed to a steady rhythm like the rocking of the ship in port. "My Thomas," Drake whispered. "I shall not sacrifice my love."
Thomas's heart soared. Drake had never used the word 'love' before. "My love," Thomas whispered as the Dragon filled him with fire.
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