Jack pawed gloomily at his charts, only succeeding in knocking them onto the
floor of his cabin, taking his glass of wine with it.
"Damnation!" he swore, bending and trying to gather them up before
the claret could stain them. His head swam and he grabbed at the table, cursing
yet again as his bandaged hand connected with the wooden corner.
"What's all this then?" Stephen said briskly, entering the cabin
and closing the door firmly behind him. "Taking the Lord's name in vain,
and on the Sabbath too. Shame on you Captain Aubrey."
"Help me up, Stephen, there's a good fellow," Jack said, accepting
the arm the doctor had already wrapped around his waist. "My head's all
aswim."
"Well, and what do you expect," Stephen said, his voice scolding
but his hands gentle as he led Jack to his padded chair by the cabin's windows.
"You're covered with burns from head to foot, and it's only by the grace of
the God you so profane that your clothes didn't catch alight and set you
aflame."
"I can take the small burns," Jack said, sighing as he sat back
into his comfortable chair, bolstered by his steward to ease the pressure on his
many tiny wounds. "It's not the first time I've had powder burns after all.
But my hands, Stephen, my damn hands."
"Patience, joy," Stephen said, taking the bandaged hands in his own
and inspecting the tight bindings. "Tomorrow we will leave the wrappings
off and begin a light exercise of the joints. The muscles are undamaged, and the
new, healthy skin will only need stretching."
"A fellow doesn't appreciate his hands until he can't use them,"
Jack said as Stephen started to undo the buttons on his shirt. "Although
Hen Dundas and I once spent a day with one hand bound close to our bodies, in a
sling-like affair, just to see what it would be like was we ever to lose a
limb."
"Did you indeed?" Stephen said idly, pulling Jack's shirt carefully
open and reaching for his pot of salve. "And when did you conduct this
interesting experiment?"
"Oh, we was just squeakers on the Belleisle, landed on
Palmyra Island to reprovision. In truth we only lasted a few hours of the game,
there was trees to climb and clear water to swim in after all." He sighed
for those long ago days of his youth, for heart-breaking blue skies and the
golden curve of powdery sand ringed by palm trees. "Lieutenant Briggs, he
was later Captain of the Pelorus, he saw us and called us morbid little
scrubs. Cuffed us alongside the head, but it was all in good fun."
"Sure, and I suppose it's not dissimilar to the lion cub, playing at
being a predator even though it's still suckling at its mother teat. Or the
common domesticated dog, practicing its future hunting art against the dangled
piece of string. Embryonic sailing men, such as yourselves, playing at future
battles - and their all too common consequences."
Stephen exhausted the small burns on Jack's chest and side and undid his
breeches, carefully tugging them down his thighs. Fortunately the exploding
powder shell had showered the majority of its smouldering sparks above Jack's
waist, and there were only a few reddened blisters on his belly, just one of
them burst and leaking clear fluid. Stephen carefully rubbed in the soothing
salve, a concoction of his own experiment, containing aloe and burdock root. The
sweet smelling ointment went on easily, Jack's smooth paunch, skin
golden-tanned, rippling under his hands. Stephen's brow rose as Jack's member
responded swiftly to the palpating touch and rose heartily.
"Lord," Jack sighed, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. He
wasn't as mortified as he might have been with another man, even another doctor.
He and Stephen had shared close quarters for years after all, they had seen each
other in all the states of being natural to a man, morning excitement included.
"I'm sorry, Stephen."
"Nonsense," Stephen said, rising and wiping his hands on a rag from
his pocket. "A completely natural reaction, think nothing of it. I'd be
more worried if you didn't achieve your Priapic state with such a particular
touch, and you so long at sea. But it occurs to me, Jack, that I have been
remiss in my duties."
Another bottle appeared from Stephen's pocket, the lid was unstoppered and
Jack's nostrils twitched at the scent of sweet almond oil.
"I've tended your needs these last few days, seen to your dress and your
more intimate urges, and yet it only now occurs to me that this, even more
intimate need has been neglected."
Jack sighed again as Stephen's oil-slicked hand slid gently over his belly,
the touch firm and still oddly impersonal. When the clever fingers reached the
rough, golden mat of Jack's pubic hair however, he lifted his head and stared at
Stephen in surprise.
"If you permit?" Stephen offered, and Jack wasn't even sure what he
would have said, if, at that moment Stephen hadn't slid his hand those vital few
inches and grasped his rampant prick firmly. After that he could only gurgle an
assent and close his eyes as Stephen gently jerked him, his other hand reaching
down and cupping Jack's balls in a move that had him arching off the chair.
Sparks brighter than the powder that had put him in this position burst
behind Jack's eyes, his massive chest heaved and his bandaged hands scrabbled
fruitlessly at the cushions as Stephen steadily worked him. Hands now pumped
hard then eased back, a rough palm slid over the weeping head while those clever
clever fingers tugged and fondled oh-so gently at his balls.
To have hands on him thus, another's hands, Stephen's hands, was
magic, was bliss, was a rising crescendo of pleasure in Jack's ears, and
finally, inevitably it ended. Fevered excitement poured out of him in jerking
spasms, leaving him wrung dry and limp, breath still sawing, but in pleasured,
ragged sighs now, rather than panting moans.
Eyes still closed, Jack felt gentle hands pat him dry, draw his breeches back
up, pull his shirt closed.
"Stephen?" he mumbled, and those beloved hands were back, stroking
his hair and cupping his flushed cheek.
"Easy, my dear," Stephen murmured. "Sleep easy, no tonic in my
medicine chest could form a better restorative than sleep's soothing
embrace."
Jack obeyed his order.
~~~
Jack didn't stir in the night, bells rung, shifts changed, footsteps rang
overhead and the duties of the day began. Only the smell of coffee roused him
and he opened his eyes at last to the sight of Stephen tiptoeing ineptly about
the cabin, laying out the pot and two cups.
"Good morning, Stephen," Jack said, sitting up and rubbing at his
eyes with the back of his bandaged hand. "Lord, I slept! It would have
taken a full broadside from a ship of the line to wake me last
night." He stood, stretched, and made his way to the seat-of-ease behind
the discreet door, Stephen following him and tending swiftly and impersonally to
his needs.
"I must admit," Stephen said, sitting back at the table and sipping
his coffee after a quick sluice of his hands. "I expected a little
awkwardness this morning after my froward behaviour last night."
"Awkward?" Jack said around a mouthful of his own coffee. "Ahh,
I needed that. Killick! Killick there! Breakfast!"
"Which it is on its way," Killick called back grumpily.
"I did rather take matters into my own hands, as it were," Stephen
said, and Jack stared at him for a moment and then sputtered around his drink,
face reddening as he chuckled loudly.
"In your own hands!" he repeated, then stifled his mirth as Killick
opened the door and carried in their breakfast tray. When the muttering steward
was gone, Jack let Stephen serve out his portion and then lifted his fork and
stabbed at his bacon. "The only awkwardness here, Stephen, is from these
damnable bandages. You said I might have these wrappings off today?"
"After breakfast I'll take a look at them," Stephen promised.
"But, Jack, you surprise me. I am amazed, befuddled, confused. We've had
many discussions on the so-called sins of pederasty and buggery over the years,
so I know that you're not some hard-horse, blue-light captain ready to condemn a
man for the choice of concupiscence. But your easy attitude takes me
aback."
"Pederasty?" Jack repeated, hand stilling, laden fork wobbling
precariously. ""Oh, Stephen, what a fellow you are. That wasn't
pederasty, nothing like it."
"Was it not, then?"
Jack snorted. "Of course it wasn't, upon my word. Pederasty,
imagine!"
"I cannot," Stephen murmured, applying himself to his eggs.
"But if it wasn't pederasty, or buggery for that matter, what was it? And
before you name it a medical procedure, I must tell you that no such practice
ever appeared in a medical text to my knowledge, nor was it any sort of
prescription advised at the Sorbonne."
"I never thought it was," Jack said. "How you do like to
complicate things, Stephen. It was simple case of a fellow helping another
fellow out. Happens all the time in the service."
"Does it forsooth?"
"Of course it does," Jack said, shaking his head in exasperation.
"But it don't go to prate about it, d'you see? It's a private matter
between mess mates or tie mates and so forth. Magna res est vocis et silentii
temperamentum."
"Ah, I see." Stephen cogitated for a while as he chewed his bacon.
Jack studied him with fondness, then leaned over conspiratorially. "And
while we're on the subject," he said quietly. "There's the small
matter of reciprocation."
"Reciprocation?"
"A return," Jack clarified. "A giving back and forth."
"I know what the word means, for all love," Stephen said testily.
"It is the context that escapes. "Reciprocation?" Then his eyes
widened and he blinked rapidly. For the first time a flush rose in his sallow
cheeks. "Reciprocation?"
"Of course," Jack said. "You must see, Stephen, that one
fellow can't just receive and not give. That would put one in a damnable awkward
position. Favours and debts etcetera. You must see that such an... an act of
gracious kindness, must be returned."
"I didn't realise there were rules on the subject," Stephen
managed.
"This is the navy," Jack chuckled. "There are rules for
everything. Of course, not all of 'em are written down, some are just, you know.
Understood. Could you pour me another cup of this excellent coffee, Stephen? The
pot stands by you."
Stephen poured and topped his own cup up.
"As soon as my hands are shipshape again, I'll return the favour,"
Jack promised, and Stephen gulped at his coffee. "And any others I may
accrue until then."
"Others?" Stephen asked, wide-eyed.
"Well, it will be several days until I'm put right," Jack said
complacently. "But never fear, I have a fine head for figures, I will
remember to keep a tally."
Stephen was inclined to be amazed for a moment, then his eyes narrowed and he
studied his friend suspiciously. "I suspect I am being made sport of,"
he declared.
"Never in life!" Jack exclaimed, blue eyes twinkling. Then one
dropped in a deliberate, and rather scandalous wink. "Never in life, my
dear."
