(no subject)
Title: A Physical Gentleman
Author: Pentimento
Rating:PG
Summary: After his injury in the first encounter with Acheron, Tom Pullings and Stephen play doctor
Author Notes: My first post here. Written for a request on perfect_duet for fic about the sensual qualities of the upper arm. Closer to a double drabble; I hope that's okay.
Disclaimer: All merit to Patrick O'Brian. All demerits to me.
Word count:178
Tom had put off having his wounded arm re-examined as long as possible. It was nothing against Dr Maturin; he'd just always dreaded surgeons, from the time he was a lad. But the captain had insisted, and now Pullings sat hunched forward miserably on a locker in sickbay, his shirt draped over his right arm while he held his left out stiffly for inspection.
Dr Maturin finished unwinding the bandage and laid it aside. He put on his spectacles, then brushed the long horsetail of Tom's hair away from his shoulder. Tom winced involuntarily at his first touch.
"Any pain? Stiffness?"
The doctor's hands were strong, but moved lightly over the healing wounds, shaping the curve of Tom's bicep and then upwards. Stephen laid one hand against Tom's bare back as the thumb of the other slid into the tender fold between arm and body; his palms pressed warmly over Tom's skin as he worked at muscles with his fingertips for a long, delicious moment.
"Fever?"
"No, none, sir," Tom stammered, and felt his sudden hot blush give him the lie.
Author: Pentimento
Rating:PG
Summary: After his injury in the first encounter with Acheron, Tom Pullings and Stephen play doctor
Author Notes: My first post here. Written for a request on perfect_duet for fic about the sensual qualities of the upper arm. Closer to a double drabble; I hope that's okay.
Disclaimer: All merit to Patrick O'Brian. All demerits to me.
Word count:178
Tom had put off having his wounded arm re-examined as long as possible. It was nothing against Dr Maturin; he'd just always dreaded surgeons, from the time he was a lad. But the captain had insisted, and now Pullings sat hunched forward miserably on a locker in sickbay, his shirt draped over his right arm while he held his left out stiffly for inspection.
Dr Maturin finished unwinding the bandage and laid it aside. He put on his spectacles, then brushed the long horsetail of Tom's hair away from his shoulder. Tom winced involuntarily at his first touch.
"Any pain? Stiffness?"
The doctor's hands were strong, but moved lightly over the healing wounds, shaping the curve of Tom's bicep and then upwards. Stephen laid one hand against Tom's bare back as the thumb of the other slid into the tender fold between arm and body; his palms pressed warmly over Tom's skin as he worked at muscles with his fingertips for a long, delicious moment.
"Fever?"
"No, none, sir," Tom stammered, and felt his sudden hot blush give him the lie.