Yes, more. I think I've found my smut-muse. :-D
Title: Discovery
Author: monkeypuzzle
Fandom: M&C
Pairing: Jack/Stephen
Rating: Hard R
Warnings: Smut as character study.
A/N: This particular Carcharodon ploticus is all linaelyn's fault. She might not realize it, but it is utterly and completely her fault. *luffs Lin*
Summery: Every lover is different.
It was a most disconcerting feeling. Oh, not the fingers working inside of him-not the way they slipped out and then in again so terribly slowly, not the way they twisted and pressed and rubbed against that one spot that made him writhe and gasp-those he had know before, not as much as he would like, but well enough nonetheless. Nor was it the position he found himself in; flat on the settee, naked with one leg tossed over its back, and the other foot braced on the cushion’s edge; open wide for the clothed man above, and they touching nowhere but fingers and arse. He had been in such spots before.
He supposed he could say that the discomfort was due to the fact that it was Stephen perched above, leaning over him with his other hand gripping the armrest by Jack’s head, but that would not be entirely true. Jack believed that he had lived this moment in his mind enough times while off-watch, and enough, he is somewhat ashamed to admit even to himself, on-watch for the situation and sensations to feel more natural than anything else.
No, what was disconcerting was the look in Stephen’s eyes-the set of his face. Jack was used to his lovers being there with him; used to them being completely involved in what was happening; used to them being close. But Stephen... Stephen wore the same look as he did when he stood over the dissection table, and picked through the muscle and bone and membranes of some poor animal. It was a gaze of intense concentration and focus, yet there was a distance there as if the greater portion of his mind was cataloguing what he found. The dissections made Jack uncomfortable enough, but to have that gaze turned upon his own flesh-to feel as if he was the strange creature cut open with all the secrets of his body unveiled for Stephen’s dispassionate eyes-made him wish to stand up and cover himself and walk away. But the spiraling pleasure that spread out from Stephen’s fingers, and rippled through every inch of his body kept him prone and still; the knowledge that this was Stephen-cantankerous, contrary, amazing Stephen; the man who had stood beside him when others had not; the man who was his dearest friend in this great world; the man he had dreamed so often of-that worked him so kept him where he lay like the pins of a mounted beetle.
Stephen leaned forward, and brought his face so close that all Jack could see was his flat, pale eyes that reflected nothing back but Jack himself, flushed and panting, his hair in disarray. Jack shut his eyes against the sight. Just then, though, Stephen gave an interesting little twist of his fingers that caused Jack to groan and push down and arch, not feeling the way the hard armrest bit into the back of his head.
Through the overwhelming pleasure Jack felt a whisper-Fascinating, utterly fascinating-gust across his cheek, and he opened his eyes to find that Stephen’s expression had shifted. Jack was quite familiar with this one as well--was there one he wasn’t?-though it had been a while since Stephen had last worn the look to this extent. His mouth was slightly open, his eyes bright and darting trying to take everything in, and there was the smallest flush rising in his cheeks. The last time Jack had seen it so fully evident was back when they were in that desolate hell-hole attempting to refit the horrible old Leopard just enough to make it home; stuck in that god-awful place that Stephen still to this day called his “frozen paradise”.
He raised his hand, resting the tips of fingers against Stephen’s jaw, and watched with a lightening heart as Stephen’s lips turned up a bit at the corners before he leaned down to press them against Jack’s. His tongue darted out, licked, then entered, brushing against Jack’s, probing, exploring, eliciting a moan from deep within Jack’s chest. Jack allowed his finger-tips to slip down and graze over the line of Stephen’s throat. Down, he moved them, enjoying the feel of rough shirt cloth over a chest rapidly rising and falling, over a hard peaked nipple; down over a pleasure tightened stomach till he felt the heavier cloth of Stephen’s breeches. There he allowed them to slip under the waist to ghost over the moist, hot head of Stephen’s cock, and he felt Stephen breathe in sharply through his nose, then hitch his hips in a desire for more. Jack happily obliged; he undid the fastenings and slid his hand in to curl around and caress the lovely hardness he found. Stephen’s breathing came faster and faster, his fingers and hips speeding up to move apace with it, and Jack decided that being Stephen’s latest discovery answered quite well. Quite well indeed.
Author: monkeypuzzle
Fandom: M&C
Pairing: Jack/Stephen
Rating: Hard R
Warnings: Smut as character study.
A/N: This particular Carcharodon ploticus is all linaelyn's fault. She might not realize it, but it is utterly and completely her fault. *luffs Lin*
Summery: Every lover is different.
It was a most disconcerting feeling. Oh, not the fingers working inside of him-not the way they slipped out and then in again so terribly slowly, not the way they twisted and pressed and rubbed against that one spot that made him writhe and gasp-those he had know before, not as much as he would like, but well enough nonetheless. Nor was it the position he found himself in; flat on the settee, naked with one leg tossed over its back, and the other foot braced on the cushion’s edge; open wide for the clothed man above, and they touching nowhere but fingers and arse. He had been in such spots before.
He supposed he could say that the discomfort was due to the fact that it was Stephen perched above, leaning over him with his other hand gripping the armrest by Jack’s head, but that would not be entirely true. Jack believed that he had lived this moment in his mind enough times while off-watch, and enough, he is somewhat ashamed to admit even to himself, on-watch for the situation and sensations to feel more natural than anything else.
No, what was disconcerting was the look in Stephen’s eyes-the set of his face. Jack was used to his lovers being there with him; used to them being completely involved in what was happening; used to them being close. But Stephen... Stephen wore the same look as he did when he stood over the dissection table, and picked through the muscle and bone and membranes of some poor animal. It was a gaze of intense concentration and focus, yet there was a distance there as if the greater portion of his mind was cataloguing what he found. The dissections made Jack uncomfortable enough, but to have that gaze turned upon his own flesh-to feel as if he was the strange creature cut open with all the secrets of his body unveiled for Stephen’s dispassionate eyes-made him wish to stand up and cover himself and walk away. But the spiraling pleasure that spread out from Stephen’s fingers, and rippled through every inch of his body kept him prone and still; the knowledge that this was Stephen-cantankerous, contrary, amazing Stephen; the man who had stood beside him when others had not; the man who was his dearest friend in this great world; the man he had dreamed so often of-that worked him so kept him where he lay like the pins of a mounted beetle.
Stephen leaned forward, and brought his face so close that all Jack could see was his flat, pale eyes that reflected nothing back but Jack himself, flushed and panting, his hair in disarray. Jack shut his eyes against the sight. Just then, though, Stephen gave an interesting little twist of his fingers that caused Jack to groan and push down and arch, not feeling the way the hard armrest bit into the back of his head.
Through the overwhelming pleasure Jack felt a whisper-Fascinating, utterly fascinating-gust across his cheek, and he opened his eyes to find that Stephen’s expression had shifted. Jack was quite familiar with this one as well--was there one he wasn’t?-though it had been a while since Stephen had last worn the look to this extent. His mouth was slightly open, his eyes bright and darting trying to take everything in, and there was the smallest flush rising in his cheeks. The last time Jack had seen it so fully evident was back when they were in that desolate hell-hole attempting to refit the horrible old Leopard just enough to make it home; stuck in that god-awful place that Stephen still to this day called his “frozen paradise”.
He raised his hand, resting the tips of fingers against Stephen’s jaw, and watched with a lightening heart as Stephen’s lips turned up a bit at the corners before he leaned down to press them against Jack’s. His tongue darted out, licked, then entered, brushing against Jack’s, probing, exploring, eliciting a moan from deep within Jack’s chest. Jack allowed his finger-tips to slip down and graze over the line of Stephen’s throat. Down, he moved them, enjoying the feel of rough shirt cloth over a chest rapidly rising and falling, over a hard peaked nipple; down over a pleasure tightened stomach till he felt the heavier cloth of Stephen’s breeches. There he allowed them to slip under the waist to ghost over the moist, hot head of Stephen’s cock, and he felt Stephen breathe in sharply through his nose, then hitch his hips in a desire for more. Jack happily obliged; he undid the fastenings and slid his hand in to curl around and caress the lovely hardness he found. Stephen’s breathing came faster and faster, his fingers and hips speeding up to move apace with it, and Jack decided that being Stephen’s latest discovery answered quite well. Quite well indeed.