a/n: I took this on so long ago and forgot about the file in my computer, oops! Hope you like!
A huff, and another creak, and Jim was on his side, the weight of his body uncomfortably gathered on his left shoulder. The fabric of the hammock was rough and thick, as if they'd just cut a retired sail apart and hung it at the seams. And it never hung quite right, and inevitably the cabin boy would end up bent in half or with his limbs draped over the side… not to mention the smell of every other crew member who rarely bathed and gave off otherworldly odors when cramped in a tiny, humid room together.
Jim was frustrated. And it wasn't just the environment that annoyed him, or the menial chores that made his back ache with heat at the end of every day, it was that he should have been stronger than this. Adventurers don't complain about an uncomfortable bed or their loud and odiferous roommates. Real sailors wouldn't object to a place they could put their head down at night. He rolled over again-or tried to, his arm getting pressed under the weight of his side and having to arch his back and kick a leg out to get it back again. Eventually he ended up on his back, though not by choice, and staring at the heavy curves in the hammock above him.
It made him felt spoiled and childish, like he hadn't grown up as much as he thought he had in the past few years. Now he was off on a grand adventure, the kind he would have done anything to tag along with as a child, and all he could think of was how stiff and uncomfortable the sleeping quarters were. "Ugh," A few seconds in the same position and he was already wriggling to get out of it. No matter what he did, his body just felt… hot and tense, like a rubber band ready to snap. He bent his knees and curled his back a few more times, huffing and groaning not unlike a kid throwing a tantrum. Luckily his bunkmates were heavy sleepers.
But there it was again, that nagging tightness, that tingle down his abdomen that made it more and more apparent his frustration had multiple causes. Jim let out another grumpy sigh, realizing he'd never get sleep at this rate-not that he could even tell what hour it was in this dark, depressing pit (that still smelled terribly.) Still, he closed his eyes anyway, and regulated his breathing. He'd always been an anxious, high-strung kid, and there was a solution he'd figured out for that a long time ago but…
No, there were too many crew members around. That… no, that was stupid. Even as he argued with himself, his right hand glided slowly across his hip, his fingertips drawing lazy patterns over the fabric. C'mon, Jim reasoned to himself with a groan, I don't get enough shit for being young? Imagine if they caught me playing with myself… Those alien sailors seemed lucky though, at least as far as Jim could tell half of them didn't have a visible dick so maybe their species didn't suffer from this kind of distraction. The thought made him stifle a quiet laugh in the darkness, and before he knew it, he'd relaxed enough to unbuckle his belt. A warm hand snuck below the hem of his underwear and…
God, yes, that's what he'd been missing. Sounded pathetic when he thought about it that way, but it was true. It was like there'd been a tight pressure building between his legs, a weight that pulled and ached when he'd pace the deck doing his chores. It built up so gradually, he wouldn't say he noticed it before, but he definitely did now.
"Mn," Jim tipped his head to the side, hair falling over his forehead and sticking there in the humidity. His fingers skillfully wrapped around his length, starting slow, languid strokes upward as he felt all the heat in his body pool in one place.
A huff, and another creak, and Jim was on his side, the weight of his body uncomfortably gathered on his left shoulder. The fabric of the hammock was rough and thick, as if they'd just cut a retired sail apart and hung it at the seams. And it never hung quite right, and inevitably the cabin boy would end up bent in half or with his limbs draped over the side… not to mention the smell of every other crew member who rarely bathed and gave off otherworldly odors when cramped in a tiny, humid room together.
Jim was frustrated. And it wasn't just the environment that annoyed him, or the menial chores that made his back ache with heat at the end of every day, it was that he should have been stronger than this. Adventurers don't complain about an uncomfortable bed or their loud and odiferous roommates. Real sailors wouldn't object to a place they could put their head down at night. He rolled over again-or tried to, his arm getting pressed under the weight of his side and having to arch his back and kick a leg out to get it back again. Eventually he ended up on his back, though not by choice, and staring at the heavy curves in the hammock above him.
It made him felt spoiled and childish, like he hadn't grown up as much as he thought he had in the past few years. Now he was off on a grand adventure, the kind he would have done anything to tag along with as a child, and all he could think of was how stiff and uncomfortable the sleeping quarters were. "Ugh," A few seconds in the same position and he was already wriggling to get out of it. No matter what he did, his body just felt… hot and tense, like a rubber band ready to snap. He bent his knees and curled his back a few more times, huffing and groaning not unlike a kid throwing a tantrum. Luckily his bunkmates were heavy sleepers.
But there it was again, that nagging tightness, that tingle down his abdomen that made it more and more apparent his frustration had multiple causes. Jim let out another grumpy sigh, realizing he'd never get sleep at this rate-not that he could even tell what hour it was in this dark, depressing pit (that still smelled terribly.) Still, he closed his eyes anyway, and regulated his breathing. He'd always been an anxious, high-strung kid, and there was a solution he'd figured out for that a long time ago but…
No, there were too many crew members around. That… no, that was stupid. Even as he argued with himself, his right hand glided slowly across his hip, his fingertips drawing lazy patterns over the fabric. C'mon, Jim reasoned to himself with a groan, I don't get enough shit for being young? Imagine if they caught me playing with myself… Those alien sailors seemed lucky though, at least as far as Jim could tell half of them didn't have a visible dick so maybe their species didn't suffer from this kind of distraction. The thought made him stifle a quiet laugh in the darkness, and before he knew it, he'd relaxed enough to unbuckle his belt. A warm hand snuck below the hem of his underwear and…
God, yes, that's what he'd been missing. Sounded pathetic when he thought about it that way, but it was true. It was like there'd been a tight pressure building between his legs, a weight that pulled and ached when he'd pace the deck doing his chores. It built up so gradually, he wouldn't say he noticed it before, but he definitely did now.
"Mn," Jim tipped his head to the side, hair falling over his forehead and sticking there in the humidity. His fingers skillfully wrapped around his length, starting slow, languid strokes upward as he felt all the heat in his body pool in one place.
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