Disney - Alone
Title: Shipboard
Fandom: Disney - Pocahontas
Prompt: Alone
Pairing: Thomas/John
Words: 497
Rating: R
It’s difficult to get John alone. The ship is always full of life, of heaving bodies and the bustle of too many men, and they all flock to John like moths around a candle. There never seems to be a time when Thomas can have John to himself, and he understands why, he knows it’s selfish to want it, but it frustrates him all the same.
Governor Ratcliffe has the stateroom, of course, but there’s a smaller private quarters reserved for the captain. Yet John ignores it, slings his hammock with the rest of them, and the idea of sleeping in the same room as John sends a thrill through Thomas, but also means that’s one less option to find some privacy for the two of them.
Thomas often lies awake at night, trying to sort through the snoring and the creaking of the hull, trying to listen for John’s breathing.
It’s on a night when John’s hammock swings empty that Thomas finally corners him. John’s in the galley, alone at last, on a low bench with his back leaning against the wall. He nods in greeting without looking up when Thomas pads closer, eyes fixed on the map across his lap.
There’s a small knife in John’s hand, and he flicks it distractedly, twirls it between his fingers. Thomas watches the flash of the blade in the low lamplight, hypnotic and tantalising, his mouth feeling dry, his legs feeling weak.
It’s a relief to sink to the floor, on his knees between the sprawl of John’s legs. John looks down at him with a small smile that’s both fond and not the slightest bit surprised.
“Thomas, you don’t -” he starts to say, his voice a quiet rumble, but Thomas shakes his head sharply, cutting John off.
He’s wanted this for so long, and it feels like he’ll die if John tells him to stop.
But John just nods, setting the knife and the map down on the bench beside him, and Thomas realises that maybe this is happening, maybe he’s finally allowed this, and that he has no idea what to do.
He reaches out, gripping John’s thighs, trying to pretend his hands aren’t shaking. Leaning in slightly, inhaling the scent of fabric and skin and heat, man scent, John’s scent, and Thomas’ mouth goes from dry to watering in the blink of an eye.
John makes a low sound above him when Thomas burrows his face forwards, when he rubs his mouth and cheek and chin through the material of John’s trousers, feeling the lines of his hardening cock beneath. John’s hand brushes through Thomas’ hair, cups the back of his head, not pushing but just resting there, and the pressure is so light yet it makes sparks dance across Thomas’ mind.
He’s waited for this, been so patient for this. But now he’s finally got John alone, and Thomas plans to make the most of whatever time they may have, inexperience be damned.
Fandom: Disney - Pocahontas
Prompt: Alone
Pairing: Thomas/John
Words: 497
Rating: R
It’s difficult to get John alone. The ship is always full of life, of heaving bodies and the bustle of too many men, and they all flock to John like moths around a candle. There never seems to be a time when Thomas can have John to himself, and he understands why, he knows it’s selfish to want it, but it frustrates him all the same.
Governor Ratcliffe has the stateroom, of course, but there’s a smaller private quarters reserved for the captain. Yet John ignores it, slings his hammock with the rest of them, and the idea of sleeping in the same room as John sends a thrill through Thomas, but also means that’s one less option to find some privacy for the two of them.
Thomas often lies awake at night, trying to sort through the snoring and the creaking of the hull, trying to listen for John’s breathing.
It’s on a night when John’s hammock swings empty that Thomas finally corners him. John’s in the galley, alone at last, on a low bench with his back leaning against the wall. He nods in greeting without looking up when Thomas pads closer, eyes fixed on the map across his lap.
There’s a small knife in John’s hand, and he flicks it distractedly, twirls it between his fingers. Thomas watches the flash of the blade in the low lamplight, hypnotic and tantalising, his mouth feeling dry, his legs feeling weak.
It’s a relief to sink to the floor, on his knees between the sprawl of John’s legs. John looks down at him with a small smile that’s both fond and not the slightest bit surprised.
“Thomas, you don’t -” he starts to say, his voice a quiet rumble, but Thomas shakes his head sharply, cutting John off.
He’s wanted this for so long, and it feels like he’ll die if John tells him to stop.
But John just nods, setting the knife and the map down on the bench beside him, and Thomas realises that maybe this is happening, maybe he’s finally allowed this, and that he has no idea what to do.
He reaches out, gripping John’s thighs, trying to pretend his hands aren’t shaking. Leaning in slightly, inhaling the scent of fabric and skin and heat, man scent, John’s scent, and Thomas’ mouth goes from dry to watering in the blink of an eye.
John makes a low sound above him when Thomas burrows his face forwards, when he rubs his mouth and cheek and chin through the material of John’s trousers, feeling the lines of his hardening cock beneath. John’s hand brushes through Thomas’ hair, cups the back of his head, not pushing but just resting there, and the pressure is so light yet it makes sparks dance across Thomas’ mind.
He’s waited for this, been so patient for this. But now he’s finally got John alone, and Thomas plans to make the most of whatever time they may have, inexperience be damned.