Showtime ( Slash strongly implied)
Showtime (DV fic, slash strongly implied.)
Written for the Mathomathon.
Nearly 1600 words and not really at all what the prompter intended- no singing, no dancing, no light-hearted musical. As per [info]executrix's prompt:DV: "Hey, kids, let's put on a show right here, on ye olde fo'cs'le," After all, a long sea voyage could be very tedious, and who knows what hiddentalents the Voyagers had?
Showtime
"Are islands supposed to be square, thinkest thou?" Thomas said doubtfully as he looked at the backdrop, still wet with ink.
"Tis artistic license," Fletcher said. "The essence of island is there."
"Tis arrant foolishness," John Drake contradicted. "This whole endeavour is puff'ry and but an excuse for sloth and letch'ry!"
"Thou sulkest because the lead was granted not to thee," Leonard said as he touched up Thomas's face paint.
John growled and stalked off to the other side of the Pelican.
"John will be forever causing trouble in the Company," Leonard worried as he rouged Thomas's cheeks.
"Nay, surely he will see that this tidbit of merriment doth but ease the frictions twixt gentlemen and mariners?" Thomas pouted his lips to better shape them for the berry juice Leonard was poised to paint.
"P'raps. I pray it be so." Leonard lowered his voice. "Our good Captain-General hath had the seeming of a veritable dragon of late."
"Well, then, he shall put more fire into his performance!" Thomas spread his arms and turned. "Doth the costume drape well?"
"Aye, aye, that it doth."
Thomas smiled and swayed his hips, getting into the role. He'd played many a mummer's role at the Inner Temple, and was quite used to portraying a woman. It would have been unthinkable to let a woman act, of course. He took his place on 'stage'.
Drake glowered as he approached Thomas. "Thee be a vile and wicked harlot, repent!" He shook a whip made of braided twine for emphasis. "Repent or thy suffering shall be great!"
"Nay," Thomas said, pitching his voice and his breasts (made of the halves of a cocoanut) high. "Tis true I sold myself, but only for the support of my aged father. Have mercy, good sir." Thomas sank gracefully to his knees and looked up at Drake, using his long eyelashes to good effect.
The crew watching grew restless as Drake hesitated, looking down at Thomas. "NAY, give it to the trollop," Brewer shouted, his trumpeter's lungs adding force to his demand.
Drake snarled and brought the makeshift whip down on Thomas's back. Thomas was startled. This wasn't in the script at all. Drake kept whipping, and Thomas suddenly realized that makeshift or no, braided twine hurt when it tore through a silk dress. "I pray you mercy, " he cried out, unwilling even at this moment to let everyone see how Drake had lost control. Drake was his friend, he couldn't mean to hurt him.
"Cease thy whining, thou milksop cur!" Drake lashed harder. "Bind and stop the mouth of this one for me!"
Leonard was shoved back, and Doughty dragged down, fighting only at the last moment when he finally understood that Drake meant it. Brewer and the mariners took pleasure in gagging and tying him over a cannon, like a misbehaving cabin boy.
When Drake finally wore out his rage and the whip, Doughty was barely conscious. He heard Drake give the order to cut him loose and carry him to the captain's cabin. They flung him on his bed, and he lay there in such pain he dared not move. He was only grateful that his brother hadn't been on board the Pelican to see his disgrace and humiliation.
There was a great deal of noise and then there was silence. He was too soul-sick to consider what it meant. All he hoped was that he would be allowed to remain here until he regained enough strength to assure his dignity.
He heard the cabin door open and resigned himself to more abuse, but didn't bother to look up. The door shut, and he heard the bolt slide in place. Then he heard someone approach.
"Thomas?"
Thomas opened his eyes, he hadn't realized he had shut them. It didn't matter, he could see nothing except the bed linen. "Why dost thou use me so, Francis? I had thought us friends."
"So had I, Thomas." Francis sat down heavily on the bed and Thomas winced as the movement jarred him. "I did not wish this. Yet when I saw thee, painted as harlot, and speaking defiance, it ... enflam'd my bosom with full-hot fury."
They were silent for a moment, then Francis spoke again. "I have brought soothing oils and a balm preserved with honey." He tore the remnants of Thomas's dress away and began applying the medicines. After a few minutes it became apparent that he was being careful, and Thomas relaxed.
"My defiance was but play-acting, Francis. Thy whipping was genuine in its entirety."
Francis's hands stopped for a moment and then resumed. "Thy injuries extend to thy nethers." Without asking permission Francis lowered the breeches Thomas had worn beneath the dress and began anointing his lower back.
As the pain eased, Thomas began falling asleep.
Francis stopped rubbing the oil onto his back, and leaned down to kiss Thomas's buttocks.
Thomas was abruptly wide awake. "What dost thou?"
"Do thou truly not know?" Francis laid a hand on Thomas's buttocks. "At sea, men turn to men. Seeing thou in woman's guise... I saw then that I do most heartily desire thee, but being gentle-bred, I knew thee wouldst deny me."
Thomas sighed. "Tis a sin... but a venial one, only. If tis the custom at sea, aye, I shall bend to't."
"Bend, but take no pleasure in it thyself?"
"How so, if I serve thee as a woman? I am no woman, not made by God for such use."
Francis shook his head. "I thought thee an Italianate gentleman, a knowing wanton and tease." He patted Thomas's buttocks again. "Aye, there can be pleasure for a man used in such wise. I shall begin thy lessoning anon, once thy skin be whole again."
"I was e'er a good student," Thomas said, lightheaded with relief as he fell asleep to the sound of Francis's soft laughter.
Written for the Mathomathon.
Nearly 1600 words and not really at all what the prompter intended- no singing, no dancing, no light-hearted musical. As per [info]executrix's prompt:DV: "Hey, kids, let's put on a show right here, on ye olde fo'cs'le," After all, a long sea voyage could be very tedious, and who knows what hiddentalents the Voyagers had?
Showtime
"Are islands supposed to be square, thinkest thou?" Thomas said doubtfully as he looked at the backdrop, still wet with ink.
"Tis artistic license," Fletcher said. "The essence of island is there."
"Tis arrant foolishness," John Drake contradicted. "This whole endeavour is puff'ry and but an excuse for sloth and letch'ry!"
"Thou sulkest because the lead was granted not to thee," Leonard said as he touched up Thomas's face paint.
John growled and stalked off to the other side of the Pelican.
"John will be forever causing trouble in the Company," Leonard worried as he rouged Thomas's cheeks.
"Nay, surely he will see that this tidbit of merriment doth but ease the frictions twixt gentlemen and mariners?" Thomas pouted his lips to better shape them for the berry juice Leonard was poised to paint.
"P'raps. I pray it be so." Leonard lowered his voice. "Our good Captain-General hath had the seeming of a veritable dragon of late."
"Well, then, he shall put more fire into his performance!" Thomas spread his arms and turned. "Doth the costume drape well?"
"Aye, aye, that it doth."
Thomas smiled and swayed his hips, getting into the role. He'd played many a mummer's role at the Inner Temple, and was quite used to portraying a woman. It would have been unthinkable to let a woman act, of course. He took his place on 'stage'.
Drake glowered as he approached Thomas. "Thee be a vile and wicked harlot, repent!" He shook a whip made of braided twine for emphasis. "Repent or thy suffering shall be great!"
"Nay," Thomas said, pitching his voice and his breasts (made of the halves of a cocoanut) high. "Tis true I sold myself, but only for the support of my aged father. Have mercy, good sir." Thomas sank gracefully to his knees and looked up at Drake, using his long eyelashes to good effect.
The crew watching grew restless as Drake hesitated, looking down at Thomas. "NAY, give it to the trollop," Brewer shouted, his trumpeter's lungs adding force to his demand.
Drake snarled and brought the makeshift whip down on Thomas's back. Thomas was startled. This wasn't in the script at all. Drake kept whipping, and Thomas suddenly realized that makeshift or no, braided twine hurt when it tore through a silk dress. "I pray you mercy, " he cried out, unwilling even at this moment to let everyone see how Drake had lost control. Drake was his friend, he couldn't mean to hurt him.
"Cease thy whining, thou milksop cur!" Drake lashed harder. "Bind and stop the mouth of this one for me!"
Leonard was shoved back, and Doughty dragged down, fighting only at the last moment when he finally understood that Drake meant it. Brewer and the mariners took pleasure in gagging and tying him over a cannon, like a misbehaving cabin boy.
When Drake finally wore out his rage and the whip, Doughty was barely conscious. He heard Drake give the order to cut him loose and carry him to the captain's cabin. They flung him on his bed, and he lay there in such pain he dared not move. He was only grateful that his brother hadn't been on board the Pelican to see his disgrace and humiliation.
There was a great deal of noise and then there was silence. He was too soul-sick to consider what it meant. All he hoped was that he would be allowed to remain here until he regained enough strength to assure his dignity.
He heard the cabin door open and resigned himself to more abuse, but didn't bother to look up. The door shut, and he heard the bolt slide in place. Then he heard someone approach.
"Thomas?"
Thomas opened his eyes, he hadn't realized he had shut them. It didn't matter, he could see nothing except the bed linen. "Why dost thou use me so, Francis? I had thought us friends."
"So had I, Thomas." Francis sat down heavily on the bed and Thomas winced as the movement jarred him. "I did not wish this. Yet when I saw thee, painted as harlot, and speaking defiance, it ... enflam'd my bosom with full-hot fury."
They were silent for a moment, then Francis spoke again. "I have brought soothing oils and a balm preserved with honey." He tore the remnants of Thomas's dress away and began applying the medicines. After a few minutes it became apparent that he was being careful, and Thomas relaxed.
"My defiance was but play-acting, Francis. Thy whipping was genuine in its entirety."
Francis's hands stopped for a moment and then resumed. "Thy injuries extend to thy nethers." Without asking permission Francis lowered the breeches Thomas had worn beneath the dress and began anointing his lower back.
As the pain eased, Thomas began falling asleep.
Francis stopped rubbing the oil onto his back, and leaned down to kiss Thomas's buttocks.
Thomas was abruptly wide awake. "What dost thou?"
"Do thou truly not know?" Francis laid a hand on Thomas's buttocks. "At sea, men turn to men. Seeing thou in woman's guise... I saw then that I do most heartily desire thee, but being gentle-bred, I knew thee wouldst deny me."
Thomas sighed. "Tis a sin... but a venial one, only. If tis the custom at sea, aye, I shall bend to't."
"Bend, but take no pleasure in it thyself?"
"How so, if I serve thee as a woman? I am no woman, not made by God for such use."
Francis shook his head. "I thought thee an Italianate gentleman, a knowing wanton and tease." He patted Thomas's buttocks again. "Aye, there can be pleasure for a man used in such wise. I shall begin thy lessoning anon, once thy skin be whole again."
"I was e'er a good student," Thomas said, lightheaded with relief as he fell asleep to the sound of Francis's soft laughter.