Disclaimers
- All characters are over 18 and they aren't mine.
Thanks - To my
wonderful beta LatinCat.
If I only could... yeah, if I only could just sit ... just sit and take his hands in mine ... yes, take his fragile and pale hands in mine and ... and I know that he would just his artic eyes toward me
and ... and for a long a moment I know that I would only hear a light hiss behind my blue eyes, I would just remain sit there and let him devour my whole being. Because he can, because he truly can banquet with my soul, my being and ... and his fingers would just wrap around mine in a way so gentle and caring and he would be on the edge of saying something, but then he would just lick away that thought with a little movement of his tongue over his lips
Many times he's been on the edge of saying something ... of saying something important because I know that it's important; what he has to say, what he wants to say and I don't let him. Instead I don't let him talk but still ... still I can read what he wants to say in those arctic eyes that are now staring at me. Tell me ... tell me Steve and then ... then just shush me with something that probably I don't want to hear. Still standing here with your hands in mine, waiting in a silence that you can almost cut it's so thick and heavy – and fuck, this hiss won't leave me and the rich smell of spice just fills the air and its silence ... probably he just touched something before he came here.
Eventually he breaks the silence and asks if I want to play something with him; but ... but damn I know that he wanted, again, to say something and it's a burning sensation of mine the way we sometimes choose to act. Like playing a hide and seek that I know is driving me crazy – no, both crazy because my denial is for him a torture – and what earlier was a fascinating game now leaves room only for more misunderstandings and this kind of sticky emptiness of mine; of us. Words not said, dust that will cover us in a thin layer as I'm just trying to understand why I keep pushing him away, why we keep on dancing in this way; secrets being spoken so softly that I can barely understand and then again this sensation of mine, this kind of feeling that it's like a tide that keeps washing over me. And each time it will take away something; fragments of what I am, and never in my entire life I dared to think that one day I would find myself unable to understand my Steve anymore. Yes, it's like a tide that is washing away everything and ... and the worst is that I let it take away what I truly love ... the worst is that he's still looking at me while holding my violin and ... and then it's only a little second as I lean forward to say, do something, and my heart is racing as I lean closer to him ... so close ... But then Killick just knocks and opens the door and in an instant Stephen is pushing my violin into my hands while returning to read one of his books.
I sigh, turning toward Killick who now is talking but … but I'm not listening as my mind is still thinking on that one moment ago. 'What I was really ready to do?' I wonder silently as Killick is now looking at me with a strange look. Nervously I stand up, letting the violin fall on the floor and I don't even care to kneel to pick it up ... I don't care if I have ruined it because I quickly walk away, and Killick just remains unmoving as I walk past him; but yet I can feel his eyes on me burning deep holes on my back and the horrible thing is that there's no escape on a ship, no secret place where I can go to hide. Me ... me that never fears anything ... I bite hard my bottom lip to prevent crying out out my agony as I see Tom turn and look at me as if ready to ask something, but I don't even leave him time to speak as I disappear inside the tight aisles of my ship.
Later I can't seem to be able to sleep, as I don't know why I'm holding my violin tight against my naked chest. The ship is gently making my hammock swing but yet I can't close my eyes; my head is full of voices that I try to shush, but as I scratch my stubble I think that surely there's something that I don't want to see, that I don't want to admit, denying and denying behind fake words and sad promises that I go around making to him… and the strange feeling that won't leave me alone as my fingers gently caress the polished wood of my violin resting upon my chest, upon my heart, and then... Then I don't know why, I don't know why I just close my eyes and let my hand wander down, under my thin layer of sheets, and only an exhausted sigh escapes from my lips as I start to pump my cock, and I'm so turned on that it almost hurts the way I'm jacking myself – fast and rough, not leaving enough space for second thoughts, for hesitation and take me, take me in... take me in and turn me upside down... turn me upside down... and he takes me... he takes me and turns me upside down ... my breath is rapid as absently my fingers are scratching the wood of my violin, as if in search for somewhere to let off my fury, my sticky strange feeling that it's not me, that it's not really me and fuck come tomorrow! Come tomorrow it's only a matter to follow someone, to let yourself go as I can't stop racing toward my building orgasm and little splinters of wood are gently penetrating my skin ... and the room suddenly is so little and the air so heavy and again ... again that particular smell of spices and something else that right now I can't quite understand; whispered words in my mind that I try not to listen to and dancing images that are like salt in a wound ... And I can't stop; I can't stop as I come all over my stomach and a damp fog envelopes me entirely as I massage my balls now empty, milking the last fragments of my orgasm. Steve ... 'Steve should be here,' is the last thought that I analyze before I forget everything and fall asleep with the violin still resting upon my sweaty chest.
Life goes on and accurately I try my best to act as normal as I can, it's only that ... it's only that secrets are becoming too heavy to carry on and my needs and wants become more burning with the pass of the time ... and really I didn't want to just wear a mask with him, when he was around. He's Steve; he's my best friend, my mate, he's ... oh no, he's everything but yet not what I truly want, and my visceral need is to ... is to just open myself with him be just Jack ... naked Jack, no one else anymore. No more Captain or stupid masks that lately I have been wearing ... pretending to be what I can't be ... and his presence on this ship, on my life is so burning and so I'm tired of denying to myself that I don't love him, that I don't want him ... yes, fuck yes, also in that carnal way ... I desire him ... I desire him also if it's a sin and I know that it's not natural ... I desire to have him closer ... to share what is mine with him ... because ... because never in my entire life I ever thought that someone could sink so deep inside my being ... I have never stopped to think that someone would make me feel this way ... so burning like saltwater dripping into a opened wound ... and there's no space, there's no place where I can go to hide ... no war, battle or fight can refresh me ... this thirst of mine ... nothing can take away this feeling of mine, like something that was lost and not found ... just need him so fucking much.
He's looking at me standing here on my own again ... and ... and here I go out to see again because I'm tired to wait ... because I know that there's something that you want to say and you know that it feels unfair how lately we chose to act and no ... there's no need to run and hide and tonight ... tonight you just sit beside me while sipping some red wine and the air is warm, almost humid for my own taste ... you are looking in front of you ... but it's like you are looking behind ... far, far, so far away from here and before you decide to stand up and excuse yourself with a stupid fake lie I reach for your arm ... my fingers wrapped tightly around your wrist as you look down at me with questioning eyes.
"Listen to me Steve" I barely manage to whisper and you nod and return to sit again.
"It's not normal," you say, but your last word just dies inside my lips as I kiss you and the glass that you are holding just crashes on the floor staining the wood with bloody red ... and a spicy and warm smell just rises, insinuating between us ... and he opens his mouth more... last walls ... last defences that he lets fall down as I caress his cheek, and my stubble is surely scratching his pale chin.
"What is not normal?" I demand as I kiss your throat, but you just moan as I'm undressing you. No ... no there's no room for stupid words, questions, for stupid games and masks.
And it's so easy, so incredibly easy to just lie there on the floor naked while thinking how much of a fool I was in wasting this precious time, thinking and thinking about what I wanted, about what I needed to do when ... when the truth was so bright and simple; so close and yet so distant. Your famished hands are in search ... moving slowly, memorizing each part of my body, fingers tracing my so many scars, lips washing away my sorrows and pain as I close my eyes letting you just study my body – my body that for the first time you are seeing in a different light.
"Steve," I moan as you just make your way down, and what at first are only uncertain licks after a few moments becomes something more and I just have to slam my hand hard over my mouth not to yell and let people know what is happening in my cabin.
"Your scent," you moan as I raise myself on my elbow to look down at you and I can't avoid, I can't restrain myself as I push my cock more inside your mouth as I'm burning with the need to just come but I can't … not yet … not yet.
I pull you up to kiss you and it's like a fever that makes you unable to understand, that envelopes you into a damp fog that you don't want to leave... and it's like the ocean rocking you as I reach for the little bottle of oil.
"Jack," you moans as my fingers just brush you gently, learning each curve of your body.
"I want you, Steve, and my desire is so deep that neither you nor I know its depth," I whisper, capturing his lips again because I'm like a starved man ... I just want him.
They say that it's sinful the way men sometimes choose to love each other. They say that it's not natural and, and I believed them, I trusted them until Steve entered into my life. I thought that it was only just a simple matter to wear a mask and pretend that everything was fine and my love for him was only mistaken for a pure feeling of friendship; each fucking day pretending, dancing this farce of us but now no … no, I don't care really. I don't care about what this society say about us about the way I desire him and he wants me ... he wants me.
His soft cries are only fuelling my cravings, my libido, as I push inside him – tight, so fucking tight – and I never thought that he would just shiver in this way, that his nails would had scratched my back in this delicious way, and my name on his lips is so intimate ... so mine ... so mine ... Because it's like something that I was missing and now it's there ... it's under me, it's kissing me. It's what I was missing ... what I was denying and at the same time so wishing to have; to have him.
His hands find and cups my balls as I hide my face inside his shoulder joint and with each push I know that I'm driving both of us toward orgasm … and it's so natural the way he breathes against my ear ... sweet, warm and humid breath that increases with each minute that is passing ... and the way he envelopes my cock ... so perfectly.
"My Stephen," I whisper against his lips and his fingers are entwined between my hair as he arches off the floor and he comes, his ass milking my orgasm out as I slam a hand down hard against the floor, near his face, to support me as I ride my orgasm filling him up with spurts of cum and I suck his tongue and he lets me do it – like animals – because we don't have to wear any mask ... because I'm so needy, and he's salt in my wound that makes my cry out and makes me alive.
He lies over my chest and for a long moment he remains in silence listening to my heart beat, as I caress his damp hair listening to my men doing their duties on the deck. Far away there's a little fly whizzing around a half bitten apple and then, and then there's only his quiet and steady breath as he falls asleep over my chest, as he falls asleep between my arms… No, there's nothing wrong in this.
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