TSM Slash!fic
Hello everyone. *waves* It's been a while since I was last on here. The following was written at the request of tootsiemuppet, and it was suggested I should post here as well;
Title: Untitled
Rating: 18
Characters/Pairings: Jagiello/Jack/Stephen
Summary: TSM; Whilst imprisoned in the Temple.
Author's Note: For tootsiemuppet, inspired by a picture she drew for des-pudels_kern. Read at your own risk.
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It had started with the campaign to win the sympathies of Madame Lehideux. Dr. Maturin had sent their clothes away to be laundered in response to her offer of further care, and they all three sat about the cell in various states of dishevelment. The cell was chilly, but Jagiello had not minded much (for all he was without his shirt or breeches) as they had each from the beginning of their internment been provided with a couple of thick woollen blankets, one of which he now sat wrapped in upon his pallet bed. Dr. Maturin, shameless as Adam, was wandering around in naught but his skin, and a relapse of his earlier trouble had forced Captain Aubrey to take to his bed in the far room where he lay groaning feebly.
The hussar had been assured it was all in a good cause. It had been explained to him, very carefully, what advantages cultivating the lady’s affections for him might bring. He had earlier reluctantly agreed to appear shirtless at the window, so that Madame might be further persuaded. It was all rather silly in Jagiello’s opinion - he was in here and she was out there. Surely such long-distance seduction would not be at all affective? But then, he reasoned, what did he know of seduction? Besides, the doctor seemed convinced such a scheme would work, and so he quietly submitted, anticipating the return of his freshly laundered shirt and breeches.
Dinner was served - a very fine dinner containing, amongst other things, a chocolate dessert and a pair of exquisitely tender partridges - though which the captain was still feeling unable to partake much of. After this they retired to bed, and Jagiello had pulled on his other blanket before lying back and closing his eyes.
The night was exceptionally cold, but it was not that which woke the young hussar. He sat bolt upright in the darkness, his breathing swift and shallow, misting in the chilly air. Something was not right; something about the atmosphere of the small rooms, the sounds… soft, unfamiliar sounds coming from the direction of Aubrey’s room. Curious, Jagiello rose from his straw mattress, the blankets draped about his shoulders, and went to investigate.
Maturin was not in the next room, but there was a light - most likely a single candle - burning in the captain’s room and it was from thence that the sounds were emanating. He stepped forward to look and stopped short, amazed by what he saw.
On the floor were the doctor and the captain. Blankets covered the hard flagstones upon which they lay naked; limbs entwined, fingers entangled, palms caressing backs and flanks. The two men, startled, looked up at Jagiello with shocked, guilty expressions on their faces; though perhaps the doctor’s pale eyes held a hint of defiance? For a moment all three stood staring; one disbelieving, the other two uncertain… Then Maturin held out a hand in mute invitation.
Jagiello settled on his haunches as two sets of hands removed the blankets from his shoulders. He shivered slightly as the cold air hit his bare skin and raised gooseflesh, but they were smoothed over by the doctor’s warm hands as they ran up his thin but hard-muscled arms and back down again. Aubrey, having risen from his prostrate position, manoeuvred himself so that he sat to one side, his fingers urging Jagiello’s head to turn and pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to the young man’s lips as Maturin moved to his other side, effectively trapping the pretty hussar.
Stephen’s tongue was skilled as Aubrey’s hands were large, and Jagiello groaned as a damp trail was traced along his neck, then jawline, and one massive fist closed around him. His breath hitched and he had grabbed hold of Maturin’s skinny shoulders convulsively, desperate to keep his companions as close as could possibly be.
“Don’t stop!” he begged in a whisper. “Oh God, please don’t stop!”
Aubrey had chuckled softly against his ear, his breath skating warm across his skin, and began to move his fist; a steady, firm rhythmn which had the hussar writhing and shivering, piteous little moans escaping from his lips which Maturin shushed and swallowed with his tongue. Jagiello leaned back against the wall of fleshy muscle that was Aubrey’s chest, surrendering to the administrations of these two men completely.
He felt the other of Aubrey’s hands slide down between his buttocks, nestling his already hard member between the two and Jagiello opened his eyes to be greeted by a warm smile from Maturin.
“Jack shall do the honours, my dear.”
At which Aubrey had set about breaching him, seeking the downfall of his defences which now were only holding by the narrowest of margins. They had managed to get oil from somewhere (probably saved from their dinner when he was not looking), and Jagiello gasped aloud as Aubrey filled him with one slow, smooth glide in. The captain was indeed a large, powerful man in every aspect of his character. Stephen had then sat in his lap - both his and Jagiello’s rigid members pressed together - and wrapped his skinny legs round both hussar and captain. Aubrey had curled one bear-like arm around Jagiello, the other reaching for Stephen and encircling his shoulders. He had pressed a kiss to the young Swede’s collarbone, and then begun to move his hips.
The next hour or so passed for Jagiello in something of a euphoric haze, his senses receiving nothing but the most exquisite pleasure as he was trapped between the other two men; pierced from behind and a delicious friction to his front. Maturin’s lip and tongue skimmed over the hussar’s almost hairless chest, making to map every contour of his flesh, paying special attention to his nipples and throat whilst Aubrey hummed softly in his ear, his deep voice pacifying his frantically beating heart.
He came in a sudden rush, his hips snapping forward with no warning and a cry that was almost a sob ripping from his throat as barely a second later he felt Jack spill into him, Maturin finding completion himself after that. They lay in a tangled heap upon the blankets; sweat sheening their bodies in the guttering light of the candles, shadows dancing on the walls and ceiling mingling with those cast by the moonlight. Warm and sated, Jagiello slept.
He woke the next morning to find himself back on his mattress, wrapped in his blankets as he had been when he went to bed the night before. Sitting up, he could clearly see Maturin pacing his own room, still mother naked, and from the bed beyond came the deep, sonorous snores of Captain Aubrey. Maturin smiled at his confused expression and bid him good morning, saying that breakfast would arrive soon along with their laundry, and had the hussar slept well? Jagiello said thank you, he had, and rose - somewhat unsteadily - to cross to the jakes and ready himself for the morning. He decided it must have been a dream, albeit an exceptionally vivid one.
Back in the other room, Stephen Maturin pressed the soiled blankets into the arms of the gaoler to be laundered and returned that evening.
Title: Untitled
Rating: 18
Characters/Pairings: Jagiello/Jack/Stephen
Summary: TSM; Whilst imprisoned in the Temple.
Author's Note: For tootsiemuppet, inspired by a picture she drew for des-pudels_kern. Read at your own risk.
-------
It had started with the campaign to win the sympathies of Madame Lehideux. Dr. Maturin had sent their clothes away to be laundered in response to her offer of further care, and they all three sat about the cell in various states of dishevelment. The cell was chilly, but Jagiello had not minded much (for all he was without his shirt or breeches) as they had each from the beginning of their internment been provided with a couple of thick woollen blankets, one of which he now sat wrapped in upon his pallet bed. Dr. Maturin, shameless as Adam, was wandering around in naught but his skin, and a relapse of his earlier trouble had forced Captain Aubrey to take to his bed in the far room where he lay groaning feebly.
The hussar had been assured it was all in a good cause. It had been explained to him, very carefully, what advantages cultivating the lady’s affections for him might bring. He had earlier reluctantly agreed to appear shirtless at the window, so that Madame might be further persuaded. It was all rather silly in Jagiello’s opinion - he was in here and she was out there. Surely such long-distance seduction would not be at all affective? But then, he reasoned, what did he know of seduction? Besides, the doctor seemed convinced such a scheme would work, and so he quietly submitted, anticipating the return of his freshly laundered shirt and breeches.
Dinner was served - a very fine dinner containing, amongst other things, a chocolate dessert and a pair of exquisitely tender partridges - though which the captain was still feeling unable to partake much of. After this they retired to bed, and Jagiello had pulled on his other blanket before lying back and closing his eyes.
The night was exceptionally cold, but it was not that which woke the young hussar. He sat bolt upright in the darkness, his breathing swift and shallow, misting in the chilly air. Something was not right; something about the atmosphere of the small rooms, the sounds… soft, unfamiliar sounds coming from the direction of Aubrey’s room. Curious, Jagiello rose from his straw mattress, the blankets draped about his shoulders, and went to investigate.
Maturin was not in the next room, but there was a light - most likely a single candle - burning in the captain’s room and it was from thence that the sounds were emanating. He stepped forward to look and stopped short, amazed by what he saw.
On the floor were the doctor and the captain. Blankets covered the hard flagstones upon which they lay naked; limbs entwined, fingers entangled, palms caressing backs and flanks. The two men, startled, looked up at Jagiello with shocked, guilty expressions on their faces; though perhaps the doctor’s pale eyes held a hint of defiance? For a moment all three stood staring; one disbelieving, the other two uncertain… Then Maturin held out a hand in mute invitation.
Jagiello settled on his haunches as two sets of hands removed the blankets from his shoulders. He shivered slightly as the cold air hit his bare skin and raised gooseflesh, but they were smoothed over by the doctor’s warm hands as they ran up his thin but hard-muscled arms and back down again. Aubrey, having risen from his prostrate position, manoeuvred himself so that he sat to one side, his fingers urging Jagiello’s head to turn and pressed a surprisingly gentle kiss to the young man’s lips as Maturin moved to his other side, effectively trapping the pretty hussar.
Stephen’s tongue was skilled as Aubrey’s hands were large, and Jagiello groaned as a damp trail was traced along his neck, then jawline, and one massive fist closed around him. His breath hitched and he had grabbed hold of Maturin’s skinny shoulders convulsively, desperate to keep his companions as close as could possibly be.
“Don’t stop!” he begged in a whisper. “Oh God, please don’t stop!”
Aubrey had chuckled softly against his ear, his breath skating warm across his skin, and began to move his fist; a steady, firm rhythmn which had the hussar writhing and shivering, piteous little moans escaping from his lips which Maturin shushed and swallowed with his tongue. Jagiello leaned back against the wall of fleshy muscle that was Aubrey’s chest, surrendering to the administrations of these two men completely.
He felt the other of Aubrey’s hands slide down between his buttocks, nestling his already hard member between the two and Jagiello opened his eyes to be greeted by a warm smile from Maturin.
“Jack shall do the honours, my dear.”
At which Aubrey had set about breaching him, seeking the downfall of his defences which now were only holding by the narrowest of margins. They had managed to get oil from somewhere (probably saved from their dinner when he was not looking), and Jagiello gasped aloud as Aubrey filled him with one slow, smooth glide in. The captain was indeed a large, powerful man in every aspect of his character. Stephen had then sat in his lap - both his and Jagiello’s rigid members pressed together - and wrapped his skinny legs round both hussar and captain. Aubrey had curled one bear-like arm around Jagiello, the other reaching for Stephen and encircling his shoulders. He had pressed a kiss to the young Swede’s collarbone, and then begun to move his hips.
The next hour or so passed for Jagiello in something of a euphoric haze, his senses receiving nothing but the most exquisite pleasure as he was trapped between the other two men; pierced from behind and a delicious friction to his front. Maturin’s lip and tongue skimmed over the hussar’s almost hairless chest, making to map every contour of his flesh, paying special attention to his nipples and throat whilst Aubrey hummed softly in his ear, his deep voice pacifying his frantically beating heart.
He came in a sudden rush, his hips snapping forward with no warning and a cry that was almost a sob ripping from his throat as barely a second later he felt Jack spill into him, Maturin finding completion himself after that. They lay in a tangled heap upon the blankets; sweat sheening their bodies in the guttering light of the candles, shadows dancing on the walls and ceiling mingling with those cast by the moonlight. Warm and sated, Jagiello slept.
He woke the next morning to find himself back on his mattress, wrapped in his blankets as he had been when he went to bed the night before. Sitting up, he could clearly see Maturin pacing his own room, still mother naked, and from the bed beyond came the deep, sonorous snores of Captain Aubrey. Maturin smiled at his confused expression and bid him good morning, saying that breakfast would arrive soon along with their laundry, and had the hussar slept well? Jagiello said thank you, he had, and rose - somewhat unsteadily - to cross to the jakes and ready himself for the morning. He decided it must have been a dream, albeit an exceptionally vivid one.
Back in the other room, Stephen Maturin pressed the soiled blankets into the arms of the gaoler to be laundered and returned that evening.