Perfect Duet's paid account and the Oakum Meme (II)

[esteven]

Some lovely person was so kind to gift perfect_duet with two months of paid time. Whoever it was, please pm me, so I can thank you properly. :D The gift makes the Oakum Meme so much easier because it brought the subject headers back.

So, once more onto the breach:

Here at this post you will find all prompts/requests we have so far received on LJ and on DW

Comments

Re: Khat - Treason's Harbour - Khat's Cradle (2)- Rating: NC 17

[anonymous]

Stephen turned sideways and regarded his friend, usually so calm and composed, over the rim of his spectacles. Jack’s face was flushed, his blue eyes wide and an even brighter blue than usual, and he was still short of breath. Was he disguised in drink, Stephen asked himself, though only in his bosom. If Jack had had anything stronger than lemonade, he would have been stretched out on his bed in no time, asleep in moments and rattling the foundation stones with the vibrations from his snoring.

Stephen did not speak of his thoughts, but instead held out a glass of frosted sherbet and replied gently, ‘Never in life, soul! You only have the advantage of me by a few years, and you must remember that as a captain of a man of war, always up and about at most uncommon hours, always out in the direst of weathers, dreadfully cut about and living on food not necessarily wholesome, you cannot expect eternal life. But no, you are not old.’ And he looked into his friend’s eyes with a smile. ‘To me you can never be old.’

Jack brightened visibly at Stephen’s words and reached for the glass, which he downed in one gulp. Then he put it back on the table and jumped up as if, though hot and tired, he could not sit still for more than a few moments.

‘I passed the bazaar and, Stephen, I will tell you alone and in your private ear that I envied the native men their long, flowing robes, sandals and turbans. Those loose garments would surely feel like a nightshirt, where even the shallowest breeze catches underneath and brings relief from the heat,’ he murmured and lowered his eyes, having turned pink at his daring words.

‘Did you not want to turn in early?’ asked Stephen.

When Jack heard this soft question full of innuendo, the colour rose even further in his face. ‘Yes, do you not? After all, the camels, should we ever see them, were promised for the early morning, so we can be away at dawn before the sun is too high.’

Stephen noticed Jack’s flush only too well and was delighted that his words could still make his friend blush like a maiden; but it would not do to tell Jack, so he only nodded at his reply.

Jack jumped up, and paced between the beds and loggia. Stephen merely sipped at his drink.

‘Would you not care to try some of the dishes I had especially made for us? I feel I have been too harsh on you recently and should like to see you maintain your energy. The sardines are wonderfully fresh. Or are you more inclined towards the saffron chicken? Come, Jack, the figs are fresh and sweet to the taste,’ and Stephen added to himself, ‘and I long to taste their juice on your lips.’

As if in reply, Stephen felt warm knuckles rubbing up and down the back of his neck, drawing away the tension he had not realized was there. Jack was standing behind him and Stephen relaxed against the broad chest. Large hands massaged his shoulders, fingers often straying inside his open shirt, circling but not touching his areolae. He closed his eyes and drifted on sensation alone.

‘I do not hunger for that kind of food.’ Jack bent and dropped a kiss on Stephen’s left earlobe before whispering, ‘Soul? Do not you think one bed is wide enough for us?

Stephen was suddenly lifted and turned around. He was now longing to feel all of his friend and he advanced on Jack, who tumbled them on the bed, where they set to divesting each other of their shirts and breeches. Jack let Stephen take the initiative, let him hold his hands above his head, though doing his best to squirm so that their skin touched in as many places as possible. Stephen felt Jack’s heart beating like a drum calling for battle stations. There was no finesse or drawn out caresses, just an urgency that needed to be addressed.