The first Meme stories :D
Ab Inconventieni by hrh_taliesin
The sharp, harsh scent of gunpowder and the acrid smell of sweat filled his nose, and the roar of the guns fought the rush of blood in his ears for dominance of Maturin’s hearing. Pullings’ shouted instructions to the crew were barely discernable. Stephen cried out- but not to reprimand the continued assault of his senses- as a broadside firing crashed away from the ship.
For once his mind was silent; the feeling of Aubrey’s body entwined with his own drove all else from his thoughts. Neither bothered to stifle the noises ripped from their throats as the din of the guns nullified any risk of being overheard in their zeal.
Leisurely dressing again, Stephen observed, “repetito est mater studiorum…”
“Come again, Stephen?” Jack said, looking up puzzled from the fastening of the knee-plackets of his breeches.
“Gladly, brother, but for today I am well worn out,” Stephen responded smoothly. “It was ‘repetition is the mother of study,’ in the Latin.” As a look of comprehension crossed his lover’s face he noted, “ah, I see you ‘smoke my meaning’, as you say.”
“Quite. This gun practice seemed utterly slovenly; the men shall drill again until I am satisfied. Ha ha ha!” Aubrey’s eyes streamed with mirth as he straightened his uniform and left the cabin with the surgeon.
A hint of a smirk crossed Maturin’s lips as he thought, “ab inconvenienti*, forsooth…” He watched as his particular friend inspected the gun crews with a newfound appreciation for the scent and the din of the practice before heading to his own cabin.
*From an inconvenient thing
(3/3)
Fun with Anatomy by morelindo
Slowly, a finger trails the delicate curve of Stephen’s right ear, starting just above that sensitive point where the ear meets his sideburns, upwards, then down again, behind the ear, caressing the join of ear and scalp. A brief pause to gently pinch the ear lobe, to flit over the intricate structure inside the ear, then further down, down, along skin darkened from the sun, scrubbed clean only hours earlier but already glistening with sweat again. The finger follows the tendons in Stephen’s slender neck, clearly visible, the pulse fluttering underneath, raising a minute bit of skin for a fleeting moment every second.
Now along the collarbone, outwards to his shoulder, and inwards again, along the bone, just beneath his throat. The finger is withdrawn, for a moment, giving room to two full lips, wine still shimmering purple in their cracks, and a blackened tongue. They kiss and lick their way sideways, along the other collarbone, giving special attention to a thick scar which runs down across its middle, down almost to the dark nipple below. Up the other side of the neck, the lips move, while the finger is joined by the rest of a large hand, tanned, with blond hair growing on it almost like fur, which gently grips a bony shoulder, slides down along arms so slight that the trails of sinews and veins are clearly raised, like paths on a map. Down further the hand travels, until it finds its opposite number and cradles it softly. The fingernails on this other hand still only cover half of the surface they should, and though the tips of Stephen’s fingers have healed somewhat, they are still tender and Jack takes great care not to touch them the wrong way, stroking his thumb gently up and down the back of Stephen’s hand. Here, the paths of veins and tendons are criss-crossed; Jack feels scars from cuts; the remains of roundish burns with raised edges; the swollen flesh around the knuckles; and a recent, half-healed cut between thumb and forefinger. Only the palm of his hand is unhurt and lighter than the rest of his skin, almost white in comparison. Those full lips leave minuscule purplish marks here as they kiss each finger in turn from the tips down to where they meet the palm, then kiss along the three lines on the palm, the tongue gently darting between them every now and then.
Stephen has closed his eyes and opened his mouth, his tongue moistening his thin lips. There are droplets of sweat on his forehead, on the tip of his long, thin nose; along his cheekbones and the dark hollows beneath them. Sweat trickles down from the sharp angles of his chin, clings to the brownish stubble that seems to always be on his cheeks, makes the sideburns that stretch down almost to his mouth wet to the touch as a thumb now buries itself in them and circles the hair in a slow motion while those purple lips meet his narrow, cracked, dried-out ones and he tastes the salt of the sweat on Jack's upper lip, a lingering hint of wine. He opens his eyes and the two men gaze at one another, sky-blue eyes meeting hazel-brown, a gaze that says what they cannot otherwise express.
He looks down along Jack’s body, that expanse of skin, intimately familiar and yet constantly changing, each scar a reminder of an engagement, a victory, a prize; like a spread of canvas stitched together again and again. Stephen’s hand traces that long bluish scar on Jack’s back, Jack shivering under his touch as the warmth of Stephen’s hand soothes the cold sting from the scar. The hand moves upwards along the scar, losing itself in waves and waves of blond hair flowing freely down to Jack’s waist, rough to the touch and bleached by sun and seawater. Stephen kisses his way along the hairline - a bit further up the forehead than it was the previous year - and breathes in. It feels almost like breathing in the ocean, that scent of salt water spray and seaweed. He combs through the sea of blond hair, then caresses Jack’s left ear, that gently sloping curve that ends in a knotted scar where the ear lobe should be. He smiles - he did such a neat job on this one back in the day - and takes the scar tissue between thumb and forefinger, satisfied that it has softened up much since. His fingers travel across Jack’s face - more scars, the outline of an old burn on the left side on his face still visible to someone who knows; blond stubble that scratches against his fingers ever so slightly, the cheeks underneath flushed now, a blush recognisable even underneath Jack’s permanent sailors’ tan. Stephen snatches a kiss, rough teeth grinding against against his lips, almost cutting into them with the sharp edges of chinks not yet worn down, hungry for more - more kisses, more caresses, more Stephen. He grabs Jack’s hair with one hand and lets the other wander again, down along the stubbly neck, around the massive shoulder, along that broad scar running across it - broader than Stephen’s fingers - pink and raised, standing out from the tanned skin around it.
Down further, along Jack’s arms, the thick blond hair on them standing up on end under his touch; following another bluish line on Jack’s forearm with one finger, and Jack lets out a low sigh of pleasure. He seizes Stephen’s wrist and guides him upwards again, towards his chest, and rolls over a little, presenting himself. Stephen’s hands and lips find Jack’s nipples, circle around them, parting the blond wires on his chest. He feels Jack writhe as he bites down on that soft flesh that instantly hardens at the touch of his teeth.
Stephen’s hands follow the line of hair down Jack’s belly, the hair growing darker the lower it gets on that vast expanse of skin, the navel in its way so big that the tip of Stephen’s thumb has ample room to caress it from the inside. He feels the tip of Jack’s cock against his hand as he slowly turns his thumb, and he briefly strokes downward, a fleeting acknowledgement. His own body reacts in response, growing hard against Jack’s thigh as Jack’s hand reaches the small of his back and starts moving around in circles, while further upwards Jack’s lips and tongue dance over Stephen’s lips, his cheeks, his eyes, then further down, and he finds himself being gently rolled over onto his back, looking upwards into Jack’s eyes, Jack’s smile.
It’s almost too much for Stephen to take that Jack’s touch has become so gentle of late, treating Stephen like some delicate thing that will break at one false movement - but Jack is still too anxious over Stephen’s injuries and too grateful that Stephen is still alive to attempt anything else.
Skin on skin, blond body hair bristling against dark, Jack’s hands move south slowly, his fingers counting the ribs along the side of Stephen’s slender frame, moving across them as they raise and sink with Stephen's now-quickening breath, gently flitting over the dark curls around Stephen’s navel and downward still, Jack now almost kneeling between Stephen’s thighs, stroking the sparse dark hair on top of them, the dent on each side of Stephen’s cheeks.
Jack looks at his companion; still slighter than he used to be; all angular shapes; ribs and shins poking out, kneecaps scarred and with sharp, definite edges, like little plates covered with very taut skin; the state of his hands enough to make Jack’s eyes water as Stephen lays a hand on his and pushes it towards his cock, arching his back, breathing in sharply, mouthing words Jack doesn’t need to hear anyway because Stephen’s body speaks a perfectly understandable language.
HMS Ark by alltoseek
Once upon a time, there was a cheerful young sea-officer named Jack. He went to a concert, where a sour rude man jabbed him with his elbow. Jack left the concert very sad. But at home, he found out he had been made captain! Jack was happy again.
The next morning, Jack saw the sour rude man in the street, and apologized for making him (the man) be rude to him (Jack) at the concert. The sour man looked less sour and politely invited Jack to join him for hot chocolate. Jack learned that the man was a doctor named Stephen. They drank their chocolate and talked together for a long time.
Now, we see that:
Jack was tall. Stephen was short.
Jack had long golden locks. Stephen covered his sparse dark hair with a scruffy wig.
Jack had bright blue eyes. Stephen had pale colourless eyes.
Jack was big and burly. Stephen was scrawny and thin.
Jack was handsome, but did not know it.
Stephen was ugly, but did not care (much).
Stephen was of illegitimate birth. Jack was heir to the lord of the manor.
Stephen was Catholic. Jack was Church of England.
Stephen was Irish and Catalan. Jack was English.
Stephen spoke many languages. Jack spoke English.
Stephen attended Trinity College in Dublin.
Jack attended a dame's school in the village.
Stephen was intelligent and knowledgeable about many things, including physic, natural philosophy, art and literature, the classics, politics, and world cultures.
Jack was intelligent and knowledgeable about all things nautical.
Stephen enjoyed naturalizing and could identify many birds, plants, and animals by sight.
Jack enjoyed eating, and could identify many puddings by sight.
Stephen was an honourable man who believed that devious methods may be used to defeat a vicious tyrant.
Jack was an honourable man who could not lie his way out of a paper bag.
Stephen was often morose and melancholy. Jack was nearly always cheerful and happy.
Jack believed in the King, authority, and the navy hierarchy.
Stephen believed in freedom and independence.
Jack was punctual. Stephen often lost track of time.
Jack was neat in his dress. Stephen often lost track of his clothes.
Stephen was a physician. His job was to heal people.
Jack was in the Navy. His job was to kill people.
Jack enjoyed music and played the violin.
Stephen enjoyed music and played the violoncello.
So naturally, they fell in love.
Now Jack was a creature of the sea, at home on any type of sea-going vessel. Jack often got into trouble on land, like calling out rude men at concerts, or sleeping with his superior officer's wife.
Stephen was a creature of the land, preferring solid ground beneath his feet and birds overhead, with every kind and type of creature creeping, crawling, slithering, hopping, jumping or walking about him. Stephen often got into trouble at sea, like falling down hatchways, or falling into the water and nearly drowning, or being late.
But since they were in love, Jack and Stephen decided always to be together, and they made this plan: Stephen would sail with Jack on his ships, and Jack would take him to visit strange new lands with wondrous new creatures no one had ever seen before. So for years and years Stephen sailed with Jack on each of his different ships to all different parts of the world. And Jack kept his promise, and took Stephen to each of the wondrous strange new lands they passed. Usually. Sometimes. Well, he did on occasion, subject to the requirements of the service, unless there was not a moment to lose. But still they were in love, and they were very happy together.
One year Jack and Stephen were sailing in the East Indies, near Java. Stephen begged Jack for an opportunity to make collections from one of the many volcanic islands in the region.
Jack said, "But you did, long ago, in the horrible old Leopard, remember?" Stephen remembered. He had made wonderful collections on Desolation Island in the Great South Sea (not the East Indies), and in New Holland (also not the East Indies), and when he had asked to visit an island at that time on their way to Java, Jack had said "But our holds are stuffed full already from Desolation Island, and your wombat from New Holland has eaten my hat. But if you are willing to give up your giant squid, and the wombat..." But Stephen hadn't been willing, and anyway that entire collection was lost when La Fleche went up in flames.
Jack said, "But you had that wonderful opportunity at the monastery on Pulo Prabang." Stephen said he had been allowed to make observations and notes, but not collections. And what little he had collected had been lost when the Diane struck on the reef on their way home.
Jack said, "But then we were stranded on an island for weeks when the Diane struck on the reef." Stephen said he had been obliged to kill nearly every living thing on the island, so they would have something to eat. And when they next sailed from Batavia to New Holland in the sweet Nutmeg of Consolation, Jack stopped at only one island, where all Stephen could collect were two girl survivors of plague. Jack had then refused to stop even at the Great Barrier Reef.
Jack opened his mouth again, then closed it and stalked off. The next day he reluctantly ordered a stop at the next large volcanic island they saw. Reluctant, because they did not need water, food, or anti-scorbutics, and Jack hated losing a minute of sailing for no naval purpose. However, he hated sailing with a miserable resentful prone-to-prescribe-nasty-physic Stephen even more, so he stopped.
In the boat that would take him to the island Stephen loaded his gun and shot, his nets and cages. But when he stepped ashore, he found he did not need to shoot or use even a box. All the mobile creatures of the island were eager to follow him. As he wandered along and up the side of the volcano mountain, a train of giant lizards, small rodents, and snakes of various sizes crawled, scurried, and slithered behind him. Above and around him flew an entire aviary of lorikeets, parrots, flycatchers, sunbirds, warblers, and many others. He himself was covered in innumerable insects - butterflies, ants, beetles (Sir Joseph will be ecstatic!), centipedes, flies and bugs of all descriptions, and spiders, and worms too. Primates hooted and swung in the trees alongside him. Stephen made his way back to the boat, confused but deliriously happy.
The men of the boat were not happy. They were horrified. They tried to stay as far from the doctor as they could, but it hardly mattered, for as soon at Stephen set foot in the boat all the creatures loaded in with him. The giant lizards calmly climbed aboard, the small rodents found nooks and nests in discrete corners, the snakes wrapped themselves about the oars. The primates clung to the men and sat on the stretchers. Smaller creatures rode over on the backs of the larger creatures, if they could not get on Stephen himself. Soon every available spot, and many that were not, was occupied by a (former) inhabitant of the island.
At the ship Jack took one look at the boat and Stephen, hardly able to see the men for the creatures, and nearly refused permission to board. However, all the creatures that could fly already had, and were perched about the rigging and the rails. Anything that could cling to the side was busy crawling up, and the monkeys nimbly swung aboard. The men had climbed aboard as soon as the boat neared the side, not even waiting for the boatkeeper to secure it. Soon Stephen was left nearly alone, but for a couple giant lizards, persistently trying to mount the side.
Jack looked at the chaos on board the ship (desperately ignoring the snakes), then to the loneness that was Stephen, and had an idea. "Stephen, do you suppose that if you went back to the island, would the animals follow you back?" Stephen could certainly not say, but supposed they might. As soon as some men could be persuaded back into the boat (the braver and more intelligent ones, who realized that there were now fewer creepy-crawlies on the boat than in the ship), Stephen was taken back to the island.
The result was quite pleasing to Stephen, and miserable for everyone else. None of the creatures left the ship to go back with Stephen, and once at the island Stephen fell out of the boat in his hurry to get back to the island. He out-ran the men of the boat, who would not go far from the beach, and was soon wandering happily along the volcano's side, again collecting a train of followers.
On returning to the ship, he asked Jack if he could try a third time. Jack said, "No, absolutely not, no more!" When the bosun's chair was lowered for Stephen, he first put the giant lizards in it.
On board the ship, the men gave Stephen all the nets, cages, and empty boxes he had planned to use for collecting. One by one, or two by two, Stephen gently led, coaxed, or placed the creatures in a suitable habitat. With the aid of the carpenter and his anxious mates, there was soon a place for every creature.
Now the snakes were secured, and Jack was happy. Now the ship more closely resembled a private floating island filled with wondrous strange creatures, and Stephen was happy. Eventually the ship reached home, and the men were happy.
Some time later, a great cloud of smoke and dust covered the whole Earth. Crops failed in many lands that summer from such weak sunlight. Many rumours abounded as to the cause, but Stephen learned from knowledgeable men that an enormous volcano had erupted and spewed forth the massive cloud. Stephen could picture the devastation around such a volcano, having been near (a much smaller) one himself once, and asked where the volcano was that erupted? The men replied, an island in the East Indies, near Java.
As to "The Commodore's Salute" anon commented that if the OP will reveal who posted the prompt, they will reveal who wrote it.:D Mind, there is no pressure to reveal yourself. All stories are good and the members of this comm give the writers thanks for taking up the prompts and giving us a lot of reading pleasure.