Untitled Master and Commander slash
Feb. 16th, 2004 02:03 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
nnyThis is slash based on the *book*. I still haven't seen the film, though I understand that the title is from two books, and the plot from yet another. Riiiiight. Anyway, this is a missing scene from the book Master and Commander by Patrick O'Brian. As usual, I make no claims to own these characters.
This fic is dedicated to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
afrai, though I hesitate to show it to her. *g*
There was so very much, when it came to Naval matters, that he could not understand; he had learned, had been taught (and at times it was galling to feel less learned than the most junior member of the crew.) There were many parts to their vessel he could reel off the names of, and very nearly understand what they were for- and yet still so many things eluded him. Patterns of behaviour, beliefs, superstitions, assumptions about situations that would come to bear; he was all at sea. He smiled a little- that was rather the problem, was it not?
Yet, as time passed, he found that there was one man, one perspective, one train of thought he believed that he understood. The thought had once been so very alien to him as to be almost inconceivable and yet now he found himself empathising with Marshall’s hard work and- when he believed himself to be unobserved- his glances at the captain that lasted far longer than propriety demanded.
How strange were the workings of the human heart! And, of course, certain other portions of the male anatomy, he mentally amended with a quirk of his lips. He had originally ascribed his condition to the extended period at sea, but he was not a man who often sought the company of young ladies- he had always found that there were far more interesting matters to turn his thoughts toward. Yet night after night he had been forced to take his needs in hand that he might attend to his patients with a clear head, biting his lip as he reached his climax in order that he not alert any other to his unfortunate condition.
“Would you like any more of the ham?”
Jack’s question made him start, jolted out of his thoughts so suddenly as to make him forget quite where he was for a moment. Then the view of the harbour came into view, the discarded telescopes on the ground beside him, and he waved away the proffered meat.
“No, no I won’t thank you. And neither should you,” he added sternly as Jack started to eat, “you have had quite enough and more already.”
“Oh yes, quite, I know,” said Jack, munching happily on the remains of their supper, “but a man needs to keep up his strength and all that.” He smiled, a wide grin so honest and open, so lacking in guile as to be almost unique among those of Stephen’s acquaintance. He examined the other man, attempting to understand the strange fascination that held sway over him.
Jack was a reasonably tall man, but not notably handsome- indeed, of late he had been gaining far too much weight to stay in line with the current fashions of dress and appearance. His hair was striking in colour, certainly, his eyes a clear blue… observing him dispassionately, feature by feature, there was nothing so very outstanding about him. Yet placed as they were in context, the man’s parts were combined to make something worth entirely more.
“Here,” said Jack, passing one of the telescopes toward him, resting his hand on Stephen’s leg. Stephen looked at it for a moment then sprang to his feet, face flushed, as Jack’s proximity prompted the inevitable reaction.
“My dear fellow!” cried Jack, leaving hold of the glass and looking up in some astonishment. “Are you quite well?”
“Oh, indeed, indeed,” answered Stephen in a state of some distraction, “yes, yes, quite well only I must… I need to…” he gestured aimlessly behind him, spun around and set off at a brisk pace toward a small copse of trees.
A few minutes later, far enough inside the copse to remain unseen, his hand was active inside the opened flap of his breeches, his other hand braced against the tree beside him in order to keep himself upright. His face was flushed with exertion, his breathing harsh and loud; explaining, perhaps, why he didn’t hear the other man’s approach until he was startled by a warm pressure along his back, a broad hand sliding around his hip to join his own in its activity. He was too close, too involved to leap away, to protest- his head lolled back onto Jack’s shoulder, face turned sideways into the other man’s neck and breathing harshly, panting against the flushed skin. Two hands caressed him, and then he left off, allowed Jack’s square hand and blunt fingers to curl around him; calluses catching against so-tender skin in a delightful friction that made him moan softly; unforgiving, unrelenting rhythm that made him cry out, calling Jack’s name as he climaxed.
Motion ceased, for a moment; hand still upon him, chest unmoving against his back. And then Jack’s clean hand came up slowly, hesitantly, to trace against his jaw for a moment, a tender touch that felt far more intimate than the man’s hand on his prick. He pulled away, arranged his clothing, turned to face the other man, but any words died in his throat as he saw the smile on Jack’s face, a new light in his eyes.
Perhaps this was something best not articulated. Not spoken about, dissected and studied. Perhaps some things were too important.
Dawn found them under their rock, with Jack steadily sweeping the Gut- calm now, and deserted- and Stephen Maturin fast asleep, smiling.
***
The passage in italics at the end is from the book. You see why I had to write it? I can't do justice to the fantastic style, and the brilliant characters. I doubt this is a fandom I'll write for much- but if anyone has any reccomendations for when I've read more, they'd be gratefully appreciated.
This fic is dedicated to
afrai, though I hesitate to show it to her. *g*There was so very much, when it came to Naval matters, that he could not understand; he had learned, had been taught (and at times it was galling to feel less learned than the most junior member of the crew.) There were many parts to their vessel he could reel off the names of, and very nearly understand what they were for- and yet still so many things eluded him. Patterns of behaviour, beliefs, superstitions, assumptions about situations that would come to bear; he was all at sea. He smiled a little- that was rather the problem, was it not?
Yet, as time passed, he found that there was one man, one perspective, one train of thought he believed that he understood. The thought had once been so very alien to him as to be almost inconceivable and yet now he found himself empathising with Marshall’s hard work and- when he believed himself to be unobserved- his glances at the captain that lasted far longer than propriety demanded.
How strange were the workings of the human heart! And, of course, certain other portions of the male anatomy, he mentally amended with a quirk of his lips. He had originally ascribed his condition to the extended period at sea, but he was not a man who often sought the company of young ladies- he had always found that there were far more interesting matters to turn his thoughts toward. Yet night after night he had been forced to take his needs in hand that he might attend to his patients with a clear head, biting his lip as he reached his climax in order that he not alert any other to his unfortunate condition.
“Would you like any more of the ham?”
Jack’s question made him start, jolted out of his thoughts so suddenly as to make him forget quite where he was for a moment. Then the view of the harbour came into view, the discarded telescopes on the ground beside him, and he waved away the proffered meat.
“No, no I won’t thank you. And neither should you,” he added sternly as Jack started to eat, “you have had quite enough and more already.”
“Oh yes, quite, I know,” said Jack, munching happily on the remains of their supper, “but a man needs to keep up his strength and all that.” He smiled, a wide grin so honest and open, so lacking in guile as to be almost unique among those of Stephen’s acquaintance. He examined the other man, attempting to understand the strange fascination that held sway over him.
Jack was a reasonably tall man, but not notably handsome- indeed, of late he had been gaining far too much weight to stay in line with the current fashions of dress and appearance. His hair was striking in colour, certainly, his eyes a clear blue… observing him dispassionately, feature by feature, there was nothing so very outstanding about him. Yet placed as they were in context, the man’s parts were combined to make something worth entirely more.
“Here,” said Jack, passing one of the telescopes toward him, resting his hand on Stephen’s leg. Stephen looked at it for a moment then sprang to his feet, face flushed, as Jack’s proximity prompted the inevitable reaction.
“My dear fellow!” cried Jack, leaving hold of the glass and looking up in some astonishment. “Are you quite well?”
“Oh, indeed, indeed,” answered Stephen in a state of some distraction, “yes, yes, quite well only I must… I need to…” he gestured aimlessly behind him, spun around and set off at a brisk pace toward a small copse of trees.
A few minutes later, far enough inside the copse to remain unseen, his hand was active inside the opened flap of his breeches, his other hand braced against the tree beside him in order to keep himself upright. His face was flushed with exertion, his breathing harsh and loud; explaining, perhaps, why he didn’t hear the other man’s approach until he was startled by a warm pressure along his back, a broad hand sliding around his hip to join his own in its activity. He was too close, too involved to leap away, to protest- his head lolled back onto Jack’s shoulder, face turned sideways into the other man’s neck and breathing harshly, panting against the flushed skin. Two hands caressed him, and then he left off, allowed Jack’s square hand and blunt fingers to curl around him; calluses catching against so-tender skin in a delightful friction that made him moan softly; unforgiving, unrelenting rhythm that made him cry out, calling Jack’s name as he climaxed.
Motion ceased, for a moment; hand still upon him, chest unmoving against his back. And then Jack’s clean hand came up slowly, hesitantly, to trace against his jaw for a moment, a tender touch that felt far more intimate than the man’s hand on his prick. He pulled away, arranged his clothing, turned to face the other man, but any words died in his throat as he saw the smile on Jack’s face, a new light in his eyes.
Perhaps this was something best not articulated. Not spoken about, dissected and studied. Perhaps some things were too important.
Dawn found them under their rock, with Jack steadily sweeping the Gut- calm now, and deserted- and Stephen Maturin fast asleep, smiling.
***
The passage in italics at the end is from the book. You see why I had to write it? I can't do justice to the fantastic style, and the brilliant characters. I doubt this is a fandom I'll write for much- but if anyone has any reccomendations for when I've read more, they'd be gratefully appreciated.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-02-16 04:17 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-16 04:58 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-16 05:05 am (UTC)I hope you are considering writing more..?
Re:
Date: 2004-02-16 05:05 am (UTC)I hope you are considering writing more..?
JACK OFF!!
Date: 2004-02-16 04:55 am (UTC)jack is so tall, though. o'brian remarks on it all the time.
Re: JACK OFF!!
Date: 2004-02-16 05:01 am (UTC)Thanks for that. :) Like I said, I don't know so much yet- that was based on one read-through. But it was just soveryslashy I had to write it... *g*
Re: ooh, you changed it
Date: 2004-02-16 05:04 am (UTC)*sneak sneak*
Lj is being a complete bitch tonight. I don't know why. Perhaps God has something against slash... *g*
no subject
Date: 2004-02-16 11:35 am (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-17 04:08 am (UTC)Thank you very much.
no subject
Date: 2004-02-16 01:15 pm (UTC)This is really well paced, and I think you have Stephan's thoughts pinned. You have your own style, which is v close to O'Brian, but your own. That's the entire idea of fic, to write what *you* have to say.
I, for one, would like to know what Jack gets up to now that he's got Stephan's measure.
Re:
Date: 2004-02-17 04:09 am (UTC)*sigh* Paul Bettany...
no subject
Date: 2004-02-16 04:08 pm (UTC)I think Stephen owes Jack a turn. *G*
Re:
Date: 2004-02-17 04:10 am (UTC)I have a terrible tendency toward leaving one character hanging. I'm a bad person. *g*
no subject
Date: 2004-02-17 04:16 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-16 05:19 pm (UTC)Re:
Date: 2004-02-17 04:11 am (UTC)I'm glad you liked it. *g*
no subject
Date: 2004-02-17 12:45 am (UTC)now, you will excuse me while I go take a cold shower....
Re:
Date: 2004-02-17 04:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-02-17 02:24 pm (UTC)and yes, that scene...soveryslashable.
Re:
Date: 2004-02-18 07:44 pm (UTC)*g*
no subject
Date: 2005-03-29 10:51 am (UTC)*gapes in aaaaawe*
*and also luuuust*
no subject
Date: 2007-07-23 03:11 am (UTC)