FIC - Vexations
I'm kind of obliged to make an introductory offering, so... >>;
Title: Vexations
Author: Julia, Admiral of the Pink (admiral_chowder)
Pairing: Pullings/Aubrey. No, seriously. It's Tom!dom.
Rating: Hard R (non-graphic sex)
Notes: Written back at the end of August, 2005. I think I posted it in a couple comms then, but I honestly don't remember. It's been up on my deviantART account since late August, but I figured I might as well chuck it up here for whatever Jack/Tom fans we may have lurking around. It was written in an hour or two and never beta'd, so. é_è; I did a bit of polishing before posting it here, at least. Though it's still nothing but PWP. There is no excuse for it save my insatiable desire to see Jack and Tom shagging like rabbits.
There was a scene in one version of the 'Master and Commander' script that never made it into the film, much to my disappointment. It involved Jack and Tom in the great cabin, by candlelight, examining the model of the Acheron. Jack had a thoughtful moment, recalled and recited a bit of poetry, and turned to find Tom smiling at him.
Needless to say, it did not take very much urging to finish that scene in my own unique way.
The first three lines of dialogue are quoted directly from that script.
Everyone else has gone. William has the deck for this watch, the midshipmen have hopefully if not probably retired to their berth for the night, and the soft snores of the collective crew, or at least those who are granted this time to sleep, are a pleasant and oddly soothing background drone. The cramped cabin next door is quiet, the Doctor undoubtedly asleep after an evening of wine and music.
Jack focuses his gaze upon the wooden model resting upon the table, now clear of the tableware and linens from the evening meal. Bless Warley and young Joe Nagle, for understanding the importance of something that, to a lubber, would hold no significance at all. Thomas Pullings understands it as well; Jack feels the other man's excited tension as they stand companionably together in the candle-lit great cabin.
'He's vulnerable here.' Jack taps the wood framing, meant to indicate the location of the Acheron's stern windows, lightly. 'Cross her stern, rake her with a broadside through her length, that'd even the odds... But how to get close enough? That's the trick.'
He crosses to the stern windows of his own beloved ship and looks pensively out over her wake, the froth shimmering silver in the moonlight. He has fought battles with less promising odds before, but this Frenchman is proving to be an annoyance, and annoyances are something that Captain John Aubrey is loath to tolerate. Jack wonders, with distaste, if the Acheron's captain is perhaps as clever as he himself. His mind soon turns more seriously to the matter at hand.
'But, we must get close to do the deed / So a bold cunning scheme is what we need.'
The words come unbidden to his mind and he is unaware that he has spoken until he turns around. Tom holds the wooden model in his long hands - hands that Jack knows all too well, hands capable of both astonishing strength and great gentleness, from the rigours of battle to the most precise and delicate of movements - and is smiling softly at the recalled lines.
Then he puts the model down and extends his arms, and Jack goes to him with no further invitation necessary. The candles have burned down and more than a few have gone out, but Jack does not care. Tom's arms are warm and comfortable around him, and he can smell the wool of the deep blue coat and the clean scent of the sea soap that the man's commission has given him the luxury to afford. Jack feels his lover's cheek touch his own and knows that Pullings must have shaved before supper, for his face is still smooth.
'You are thinking about something other than the Acheron, I see.'
'Mmm.' It's a soft utterance that might indicate a great number of things, among them either agreement or disagreement with the statement. The stiffness and heat where Tom's hips press against his own make Jack inclined to believe the former. The other man's hazel eyes are a warm golden brown in the rapidly dwindling candle light, the pupils large with arousal and anticipation.
'I shall interpret that as an affirmative, then. I wonder, might you perhaps-?'
Jack doesn't get to finish his sentence, for Tom's lips are pressed softly against his, unknowingly answering the request that Jack didn't get to make. The other man's mouth is warm and tastes of the evening's port and coffee, mingled with a sweet, heady taste that is wholly unique to Tom. Jack gives voice to a pleased sigh and looses his lover's hair, his fingers automatically burying themselves in the brown strands that are no doubt roughened by salt water but still soft to Jack's own calloused hands.
The bit of ribbon is soon followed by coats, waistcoats, stocks and shirts; their boots go soon after, then their breeches and stockings. Jack doesn't offer any resistance when his lover gently brings him down to the comparatively soft bed of clothing on the floor and pushes him onto his back. Though this is not their customary situation of dominance, tonight Jack is glad to surrender control in the hopes of forgetting, even for a few hours, the vexation that the Acheron and her captain are causing him. The feeling of Tom's fingers on his thighs as the other man coaxes his legs apart is already beginning to push that irritation to the side; both of them know that this will be fast, a prelude to the slower, tender encounters that will occur once the immediate urge is sated.
A soft groan escapes Jack's throat when Tom settles over him, their mouths meeting as his ever-considerate lover does what little he can with saliva and his fingers to prepare Jack for entry. Oil is not to be wasted, though Jack is uncertain about whether that used to keep wood and weaponry in prime condition would even be safe for a use such as this. Those thoughts soon vanish from his mind as Tom deepens the kiss and pushes into him, slowly enough to permit Jack to adjust though they both know that there will always be a bit of pain at the beginning. 'Steady, courage now,' Tom whispers as he nibbles at Jack's neck to distract him.
Then the pain is gone and there is nothing but pleasure as they move together. Tom grasps Jack's cock with one hand and a hip with the other, and the captain can't help but arch toward his subordinate as his breath leaves him in ragged, ecstatic gasps. It is not long before Jack presses his face to Tom's shoulder and gives a soft cry of his lover's name as he comes, spilling his seed between them. In that moment, he feels the familiar warm rush as Tom also finds the same pleasure.
Jack strokes Tom's back as they lie tangled together, their bodies still atremble with the aftershocks of sex and neither of them particularly inclined to move. Slowly their breathing evens out, though they do not sleep. Jack looks out of the window once more and smiles as he feels Tom nuzzle fondly at his neck; he pulls the other man more firmly against him and receives an agreeable murmur in reply. For the time being, in this placid moment, the vexations of the world can be forgotten.
C'est fini.
(Feedback is love.)
Title: Vexations
Author: Julia, Admiral of the Pink (admiral_chowder)
Pairing: Pullings/Aubrey. No, seriously. It's Tom!dom.
Rating: Hard R (non-graphic sex)
Notes: Written back at the end of August, 2005. I think I posted it in a couple comms then, but I honestly don't remember. It's been up on my deviantART account since late August, but I figured I might as well chuck it up here for whatever Jack/Tom fans we may have lurking around. It was written in an hour or two and never beta'd, so. é_è; I did a bit of polishing before posting it here, at least. Though it's still nothing but PWP. There is no excuse for it save my insatiable desire to see Jack and Tom shagging like rabbits.
There was a scene in one version of the 'Master and Commander' script that never made it into the film, much to my disappointment. It involved Jack and Tom in the great cabin, by candlelight, examining the model of the Acheron. Jack had a thoughtful moment, recalled and recited a bit of poetry, and turned to find Tom smiling at him.
Needless to say, it did not take very much urging to finish that scene in my own unique way.
The first three lines of dialogue are quoted directly from that script.
Everyone else has gone. William has the deck for this watch, the midshipmen have hopefully if not probably retired to their berth for the night, and the soft snores of the collective crew, or at least those who are granted this time to sleep, are a pleasant and oddly soothing background drone. The cramped cabin next door is quiet, the Doctor undoubtedly asleep after an evening of wine and music.
Jack focuses his gaze upon the wooden model resting upon the table, now clear of the tableware and linens from the evening meal. Bless Warley and young Joe Nagle, for understanding the importance of something that, to a lubber, would hold no significance at all. Thomas Pullings understands it as well; Jack feels the other man's excited tension as they stand companionably together in the candle-lit great cabin.
'He's vulnerable here.' Jack taps the wood framing, meant to indicate the location of the Acheron's stern windows, lightly. 'Cross her stern, rake her with a broadside through her length, that'd even the odds... But how to get close enough? That's the trick.'
He crosses to the stern windows of his own beloved ship and looks pensively out over her wake, the froth shimmering silver in the moonlight. He has fought battles with less promising odds before, but this Frenchman is proving to be an annoyance, and annoyances are something that Captain John Aubrey is loath to tolerate. Jack wonders, with distaste, if the Acheron's captain is perhaps as clever as he himself. His mind soon turns more seriously to the matter at hand.
'But, we must get close to do the deed / So a bold cunning scheme is what we need.'
The words come unbidden to his mind and he is unaware that he has spoken until he turns around. Tom holds the wooden model in his long hands - hands that Jack knows all too well, hands capable of both astonishing strength and great gentleness, from the rigours of battle to the most precise and delicate of movements - and is smiling softly at the recalled lines.
Then he puts the model down and extends his arms, and Jack goes to him with no further invitation necessary. The candles have burned down and more than a few have gone out, but Jack does not care. Tom's arms are warm and comfortable around him, and he can smell the wool of the deep blue coat and the clean scent of the sea soap that the man's commission has given him the luxury to afford. Jack feels his lover's cheek touch his own and knows that Pullings must have shaved before supper, for his face is still smooth.
'You are thinking about something other than the Acheron, I see.'
'Mmm.' It's a soft utterance that might indicate a great number of things, among them either agreement or disagreement with the statement. The stiffness and heat where Tom's hips press against his own make Jack inclined to believe the former. The other man's hazel eyes are a warm golden brown in the rapidly dwindling candle light, the pupils large with arousal and anticipation.
'I shall interpret that as an affirmative, then. I wonder, might you perhaps-?'
Jack doesn't get to finish his sentence, for Tom's lips are pressed softly against his, unknowingly answering the request that Jack didn't get to make. The other man's mouth is warm and tastes of the evening's port and coffee, mingled with a sweet, heady taste that is wholly unique to Tom. Jack gives voice to a pleased sigh and looses his lover's hair, his fingers automatically burying themselves in the brown strands that are no doubt roughened by salt water but still soft to Jack's own calloused hands.
The bit of ribbon is soon followed by coats, waistcoats, stocks and shirts; their boots go soon after, then their breeches and stockings. Jack doesn't offer any resistance when his lover gently brings him down to the comparatively soft bed of clothing on the floor and pushes him onto his back. Though this is not their customary situation of dominance, tonight Jack is glad to surrender control in the hopes of forgetting, even for a few hours, the vexation that the Acheron and her captain are causing him. The feeling of Tom's fingers on his thighs as the other man coaxes his legs apart is already beginning to push that irritation to the side; both of them know that this will be fast, a prelude to the slower, tender encounters that will occur once the immediate urge is sated.
A soft groan escapes Jack's throat when Tom settles over him, their mouths meeting as his ever-considerate lover does what little he can with saliva and his fingers to prepare Jack for entry. Oil is not to be wasted, though Jack is uncertain about whether that used to keep wood and weaponry in prime condition would even be safe for a use such as this. Those thoughts soon vanish from his mind as Tom deepens the kiss and pushes into him, slowly enough to permit Jack to adjust though they both know that there will always be a bit of pain at the beginning. 'Steady, courage now,' Tom whispers as he nibbles at Jack's neck to distract him.
Then the pain is gone and there is nothing but pleasure as they move together. Tom grasps Jack's cock with one hand and a hip with the other, and the captain can't help but arch toward his subordinate as his breath leaves him in ragged, ecstatic gasps. It is not long before Jack presses his face to Tom's shoulder and gives a soft cry of his lover's name as he comes, spilling his seed between them. In that moment, he feels the familiar warm rush as Tom also finds the same pleasure.
Jack strokes Tom's back as they lie tangled together, their bodies still atremble with the aftershocks of sex and neither of them particularly inclined to move. Slowly their breathing evens out, though they do not sleep. Jack looks out of the window once more and smiles as he feels Tom nuzzle fondly at his neck; he pulls the other man more firmly against him and receives an agreeable murmur in reply. For the time being, in this placid moment, the vexations of the world can be forgotten.
C'est fini.
(Feedback is love.)