Midshipman
Jul. 12th, 2011 09:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sonora_conejaPairing: Morrison/John
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Summary: They aren’t pirates yet, but dammit, I love this friggin’ AU!
Cabin boy John Smith has untoward desires for his master, Lieutenant Russell Morrison...
"Undress me, lad, and get yourself into bed."
Kneeling on the floor, already naked himself, John remembered the first night he heard those words. Almost six months ago it was now, six months since Lieutenant Morrison had so generously extended his protection and patronage. Six months since the morning he had followed Lieutenant Morrison from his snug berth, out into the catcalls of the crew that had been silenced by a sharp glance from the Lieutenant.
He had not expected it all to last, respect the man though he did. The Lieutenant was still a man, after all, and he merely a cabin boy on this vessel. He had seem one or two of his predecessors go through the selfsame trial. He had seen them taken and claimed, or not claimed, if they were very unlucky. It was tight quarters and no privacy on the frigate, completely devoid of the fairer sex. And that lack was rendered unbearable in the months between port landings.
Men had needs.
John understood this, had learned it well over the past six months, sleeping close to the Lieutenant. He had come to know it in himself. ‘Twas a telltale stirring in his loins that meant he had to scramble for a cloth in the darkness while his master slept on. He had come to know it very well, and it seemed to be coming more and more often these days, more nights than not, and at times before, while he was undressing him, feeling the older man’s skin, the scent of it, imagining how he would taste, were he only to...
"Careful, lad," Morrison admonished as John's fingers slipped on the damp slick of the baldric, nearly dropping the wide leather strap and its cargo of gleaming cutlass to the cabin floor. "Careful now. This 'twas a gift from my grandmother."
The Lieutenant came from a merchant family in Bristol, wealthy enough to buy their son his commission but little else. He had received a packet at port, not three weeks hence, containing only socks and a small bundle of pure cane sugar candies. He had shared those with John, and the boy could not remember a more heavenly taste in all his short years. Each had been precious to his master. Lieutenant Morrison was a man who cared for his things. John endeavored always to do no less.
"Apologies, m'lord," he replied, shamed at his own clumsiness, laying the weapon aside. "Let me at your jacket now."
The older man smiled in relief as he leaned back and John's fingers moved in, undoing the lower half, the top already thrown open, Morrison working off his cravat and tossing it aside.
“The Captain has agreed to allow me to sponsor you as a midshipman, John,” he said casually. “If you do as well as I believe you shall, you shall be an Ensign in a few years’ time.”
John popped out the last button, mind reeling from those few simple words. “I, sir? Truly?”
“Aye, lad, you. You, an officer in His Majesty’s service, if you should desire it so. How does that strike you?”
“Very...very well, m’lord,” he said, and bit his lips, remembering his place. “But I am not...”
“...worthy?” And in the lamplight, the boy could see that Lieutenant Morrison’s eyes were glittering. “You learned your letters in only a few weeks, John, we have had discourse on philosophy and history, and you understand every aspect of a sailing vessel as intimately as a lover’s body. You will be a fine addition to His Majesty’s Navy, if you will but accept.”
“Then I...I accept,” John said with a nod, smiling. “Will, will...will I still be with you, m’lord, in your service, as I am now?”
“Not the same as you are now,” the Lieutenant replied, sluffing his jacket and loose linen blouse in one go, handing them both to John to smooth and put away. “You will have new duties. Ones that do not demand that we...have this manner of arrangement.”
John bit his lip, laying the clothes aside, not daring to look back at his master, who was now only in his breeches. It was those that he dreamed of, on the nights when he could not help his own impulses, those breeches. Of stripping them down, so slowly, dropping to his knees, watching as the Lieutenant’s manhood rose, all for him, for him to take in hand, guide into his mouth...
“I will miss it,” he admitted softly, back to his master as his cock started to throb, responding to his fantasies, approving, wanting...
A hand touched to his neck, fingers gentle as they always were, prickling the short hairs of his neck. “What will you miss, John?”
“This duty...m’lord, for you...” John stammered, trying to figure out what he could say. What he should say.
“It has all been for you, lad.”
And at that, the cabin boy had to look back over his shoulder in wonder.
The Lieutenant was standing there, nude, the breeches in his hand as if he was uncertain what to do with them. He looked almost nervous, scared, but that could not be. They had been in several skirmishes with the Barbary, since Morrison had come aboard the Triton, and John had thought the Lieutenant the bravest of the crew. So why would he be rendered so hesitant now? Why would he say such a thing? And John had the worst feeling creep over him, that he had done something horribly, horribly wrong...
“I am sorry if I have been a burden on you, m’lord...” he replied, and reached out and took the breeches away, laying them gently in their place, studiously keeping his sight away from his master’s manhood.
“A burden? Nay, John, the only burden you have lain on me is the burden of temptation,” the Lieutenant said softly, his voice dropping into tones that John had never before heard from him. “The burden of dreaming of all that could be, if I was to but hold out my hand and claim you for my own.”
“I am yours, m’lord,” he said softly, eyes widening, pulse beginning to speed, heat beginning to rush to his groin at the mere thought of it. “You have already claimed me.”
“Not fully,” the Lieutenant said with a note of sadness in his voice. “Not as I would.”
“And...and...what would you, m’lord?” John asked, taking an involuntary step towards the older man, drawn in by something he did not understand, but desperately wanted.
Morrison smiled hopefully, and reached out, taking the boy’s hand in his own, curling long fingers into a fist, into his palm, running up to encircle his wrist, pulling his closer still. “I would have the pleasure that could exist between us, John, the delights await me within you, and you within me. Lad, I would enter you, fill you, my own sweet John...”
John felt his heart skip. He had dreamed of this, desired that it be so between them, that he might give his master his body in such a way... yet what would the Lieutenant say, if he knew how deep his cabin boy’s feelings ran? How would he respond, should he know?
“M’lord...” he said, starting to shake, backing up.
The older man followed him still, coming towards him, and John wondered if he could hear his secret heart, if he knew...and then that strong, solid body touched to his, pressed him to the bulkhead, and lips ghosted around the shell of his ear.
“My dear boy, I do not wish to force you, I truly do not. Yet all these nights, sleeping with you in my arms, feeling you against me, I...I cannot help myself, John, the way I desire you, the way I need you...”
Held, trapped, John knew it would come tonight, that thing they had been building towards since the very first night, sleep sweeter and deeper than any other in his life, cradled in his master’s arms. The Lieutenant would take him, whether he gave his consent or not. That his consent mattered not at all.
But he was not afraid of the older man. Only of himself, only his own emotions...
“I hear you, John, in the depths of the night. I hear you as you work yourself and spill your seed. The most beautiful noises you make. I listen and I wonder, who is your fantasy lover? Who do you desire?”
The Lieutenant swept his hands down the length of John’s body, cupping the slight curve of his ass and bringing their groins hard together, cock sliding against cock. The younger groaned into it, his hand gripping Morrison’s arm where it had been caressing, only moments before.
His master’s strength had been put into play.
“Tell me who it is that occupies the spaces of your mind, my lad. Tell me that your thoughts are filled of me, as mine are filled of you.” Lean hips started to thrust into John. “Tell me...”
And John squeezed his eyes shut. Caught up in the Lieutenant’s grasp as he was, pinned, flush against him, those hands were massaging his buttocks slowly, pulling him in. He gasped, forehead hitting Morrison’s shoulder, arms wrapping up around him of their own volition.
“Tell me you desire me as I desire you, my lad. “ the Lieutenant rumbled. “Tell me that you cannot sleep another night beside me without surrendering to me, without giving yourself to me.”
It was torture, it was perfect, it was overwhelming, flooding his senses, his whole body, his manhood hard as iron, caught up between their bellies. The thrusts were getting harder, that friction unbearable. John could feel the heat building inside of him, those stirrings, the ones that preceded...and he moaned as he was slammed back into the wall.
“Tell me, my sweet lad, tell me what you dream of.”
“M’lord, please...” he moaned, not sure what he was asking for, only knowing that he was close, that he was so close...
“Tell me, John Smith.”
A brutal thrust brought John almost to the edge, and he would have pitched forward, except for the wonderful bulk holding him there. Morrison braced his hands on the wall behind, hips viciously swift, threatening to shake him apart.
He pressed his forehead in further, clinging to the older man, smelling the salty musk of another man’s arousal, gasping for air. Everything in him was alive, singing... “I...I cannot...”
“Tell me,” Morrison whispered into his hair, voice gentle, close, pleading. “Tell me...”
Pleading...
John forced himself to pull back, to look up into those blue, blue eyes of his Lieutenant, and between the stimulation and the storm of emotion in him and the heat and his need and his master’s...he found the courage to say aloud that thing he, in the very moment itself, finally understood.
“Tis always you that I see in the night, m’lord. It cannot be anyone else. There is no room in my heart for another. I...I love you...” he whispered.
And then everything stopped.
John thought for a terrifying moment that he had done, said, something terribly, terribly wrong, with the manner Morrison’s bright eyes burrowing into him in the flickering light of the small cabin, inspecting him, questioning him, his words...
Then Morrison let out a groan like a man dying, and those hands left his back and John felt all his hope withering in his heart. But then a hand slipped down his thigh, urging it up, his body pressed to the hard wood of the bulkhead once more, the Lieutenant’s moist, hungry cock against him, and their mouths were very, very near to one another.
“And I you, my lad.”
Then those thin lips crashed down upon his own.
John did not know what to feel. His master, kissing him, kissing him, like he truly meant those few simple words, those words that would redefine the world, his world, their world, together. Kissing him. ‘Twas something new, something John had never felt before, all heat and teeth and lips and tongue, the overwhelming feel of Morrison around him, Morrison holding him, desiring him, loving him...
It unraveled John utterly.
He felt a surge through his body, like fire in the masts, burning him to the waterline, and John cried out, keening as he came, falling into Morrison’s arms as his seed flowed out of him into the space between, the world whiting to nothing.
He felt himself being moved, being swept up, like the ocean itself was pulling him away, but them his back hit soft sheets and he blinked, staring up at the smiling form of the older man above him.
“To be so young again,” Morrison sighed, almost wistful, and trailed fingers down the line of John’s thin belly, through the fuzz just beginning to appear, a wet cloth following, cleaning him. “To be so beautiful as you.”
John stared up. The Lieutenant's hair had fallen loose from its ribbon, fallen around his shoulders, curling slightly in the now-humid air of the cabin, tanned skin gleaming over taught muscles, but his eyes were soft from orgasm. And John thought he had never seen anything better. But himself, his skinny frame and overlong limbs? He turned his head, staring at the wall with its little port-hole thrown open for fresh air, sweeping out the heavy scents onto the moon-swept seas beyond. “Beautiful?”
“Aye, lad, you are beautiful, and not just in your body, but in your soul as well. So young, so innocent you are,” the Lieutenant continued, voice soft and deep, hands roaming across John’s hips, his belly, dipping between pallet and spine to stroke up his back, and the younger arched up, responding to that touch. “So many things I wish to teach you, so many things we may do together...”
John reached his fingers between them, touching as he had always wished to touch, feeling the drying moisture there, inching towards the older man’s cock. He had seen things, encounters between the men of the crew, so he knew how it should be between himself and his master, what his master had the rights to. It sent another rush of heat through him, the thought of taking him into himself in such a manner, of being filled...
But Lieutenant Morrison’s cock had gone soft as well, spent likely at the same time as his own, and John felt a small pang of regret, that he could not quite recall the details of their first sharing together.
“There shall be other times, John. Many more, should you wish it so.”
He nodded. “Master, I...”
A kiss was laid to his forehead. “Russell,” his Lieutenant told him in a whisper, holding them close together. “My name is Russell, lad, and you shall use it, when we are together in this way.”
John sucked his bottom lip in, nodding slowly. That was unexpected. That...was that something he was allowed? “But...”
“Say it, John. Say my name.”
“...m’lord, I cannot...”
“I do not desire you as one might a slave or a servant, John,” Morrison murmured so gently to him, tangling fingers down into John’s long hair. “I desire you in the manner that one man longs for another. I wish you for my lover. Do you understand that, my lad?”
“Y-yes, yes...yes...”
“Yes what, John?”
Slowly, hoping against hope that he understood his man, John opened his hand, reaching. Not in the line of his duties but in love, running a hand right over the smooth muscle above him, up that strong body, exerting a bit of his own strength as he half rose from the bed, pushing Russell down on his back, then dropping down, right over him, kissing him softly.
“Aye, Russell,” he replied, hand lingering as he spoke, feeling a shiver run through the older man, his lover, his lover, marveling at how much power he had over the older man, how much power Morrison held over him... "I would be your lover, if you will be mine."
Morrison chuckled, shoving him aside in jest, closing the porthole and grabbing the top covers, pulling it over them both, cool and clean once again. "Come to me, my love," he murmured and reached for John, arm up. "Come here to your rightful place beside me and stay with me..."
John curled in, chest to chest, and laid his head on Morrison's arm. "I have dreamed it was so, you and I," he admitted softly.
“Then I shall kiss you again, sweet boy,” his lover told him, moving to place that promised kiss on John's eager lips once more. “And hold you in your sleep, so we may see what other prophetic dreams you may have.”
"Then I shall dream we are together forever!" John declared boldly.
And Morrison laughed. A wonderful sound, John thought, and let his eyes fall shut.
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: none
Summary: They aren’t pirates yet, but dammit, I love this friggin’ AU!
Cabin boy John Smith has untoward desires for his master, Lieutenant Russell Morrison...
"Undress me, lad, and get yourself into bed."
Kneeling on the floor, already naked himself, John remembered the first night he heard those words. Almost six months ago it was now, six months since Lieutenant Morrison had so generously extended his protection and patronage. Six months since the morning he had followed Lieutenant Morrison from his snug berth, out into the catcalls of the crew that had been silenced by a sharp glance from the Lieutenant.
He had not expected it all to last, respect the man though he did. The Lieutenant was still a man, after all, and he merely a cabin boy on this vessel. He had seem one or two of his predecessors go through the selfsame trial. He had seen them taken and claimed, or not claimed, if they were very unlucky. It was tight quarters and no privacy on the frigate, completely devoid of the fairer sex. And that lack was rendered unbearable in the months between port landings.
Men had needs.
John understood this, had learned it well over the past six months, sleeping close to the Lieutenant. He had come to know it in himself. ‘Twas a telltale stirring in his loins that meant he had to scramble for a cloth in the darkness while his master slept on. He had come to know it very well, and it seemed to be coming more and more often these days, more nights than not, and at times before, while he was undressing him, feeling the older man’s skin, the scent of it, imagining how he would taste, were he only to...
"Careful, lad," Morrison admonished as John's fingers slipped on the damp slick of the baldric, nearly dropping the wide leather strap and its cargo of gleaming cutlass to the cabin floor. "Careful now. This 'twas a gift from my grandmother."
The Lieutenant came from a merchant family in Bristol, wealthy enough to buy their son his commission but little else. He had received a packet at port, not three weeks hence, containing only socks and a small bundle of pure cane sugar candies. He had shared those with John, and the boy could not remember a more heavenly taste in all his short years. Each had been precious to his master. Lieutenant Morrison was a man who cared for his things. John endeavored always to do no less.
"Apologies, m'lord," he replied, shamed at his own clumsiness, laying the weapon aside. "Let me at your jacket now."
The older man smiled in relief as he leaned back and John's fingers moved in, undoing the lower half, the top already thrown open, Morrison working off his cravat and tossing it aside.
“The Captain has agreed to allow me to sponsor you as a midshipman, John,” he said casually. “If you do as well as I believe you shall, you shall be an Ensign in a few years’ time.”
John popped out the last button, mind reeling from those few simple words. “I, sir? Truly?”
“Aye, lad, you. You, an officer in His Majesty’s service, if you should desire it so. How does that strike you?”
“Very...very well, m’lord,” he said, and bit his lips, remembering his place. “But I am not...”
“...worthy?” And in the lamplight, the boy could see that Lieutenant Morrison’s eyes were glittering. “You learned your letters in only a few weeks, John, we have had discourse on philosophy and history, and you understand every aspect of a sailing vessel as intimately as a lover’s body. You will be a fine addition to His Majesty’s Navy, if you will but accept.”
“Then I...I accept,” John said with a nod, smiling. “Will, will...will I still be with you, m’lord, in your service, as I am now?”
“Not the same as you are now,” the Lieutenant replied, sluffing his jacket and loose linen blouse in one go, handing them both to John to smooth and put away. “You will have new duties. Ones that do not demand that we...have this manner of arrangement.”
John bit his lip, laying the clothes aside, not daring to look back at his master, who was now only in his breeches. It was those that he dreamed of, on the nights when he could not help his own impulses, those breeches. Of stripping them down, so slowly, dropping to his knees, watching as the Lieutenant’s manhood rose, all for him, for him to take in hand, guide into his mouth...
“I will miss it,” he admitted softly, back to his master as his cock started to throb, responding to his fantasies, approving, wanting...
A hand touched to his neck, fingers gentle as they always were, prickling the short hairs of his neck. “What will you miss, John?”
“This duty...m’lord, for you...” John stammered, trying to figure out what he could say. What he should say.
“It has all been for you, lad.”
And at that, the cabin boy had to look back over his shoulder in wonder.
The Lieutenant was standing there, nude, the breeches in his hand as if he was uncertain what to do with them. He looked almost nervous, scared, but that could not be. They had been in several skirmishes with the Barbary, since Morrison had come aboard the Triton, and John had thought the Lieutenant the bravest of the crew. So why would he be rendered so hesitant now? Why would he say such a thing? And John had the worst feeling creep over him, that he had done something horribly, horribly wrong...
“I am sorry if I have been a burden on you, m’lord...” he replied, and reached out and took the breeches away, laying them gently in their place, studiously keeping his sight away from his master’s manhood.
“A burden? Nay, John, the only burden you have lain on me is the burden of temptation,” the Lieutenant said softly, his voice dropping into tones that John had never before heard from him. “The burden of dreaming of all that could be, if I was to but hold out my hand and claim you for my own.”
“I am yours, m’lord,” he said softly, eyes widening, pulse beginning to speed, heat beginning to rush to his groin at the mere thought of it. “You have already claimed me.”
“Not fully,” the Lieutenant said with a note of sadness in his voice. “Not as I would.”
“And...and...what would you, m’lord?” John asked, taking an involuntary step towards the older man, drawn in by something he did not understand, but desperately wanted.
Morrison smiled hopefully, and reached out, taking the boy’s hand in his own, curling long fingers into a fist, into his palm, running up to encircle his wrist, pulling his closer still. “I would have the pleasure that could exist between us, John, the delights await me within you, and you within me. Lad, I would enter you, fill you, my own sweet John...”
John felt his heart skip. He had dreamed of this, desired that it be so between them, that he might give his master his body in such a way... yet what would the Lieutenant say, if he knew how deep his cabin boy’s feelings ran? How would he respond, should he know?
“M’lord...” he said, starting to shake, backing up.
The older man followed him still, coming towards him, and John wondered if he could hear his secret heart, if he knew...and then that strong, solid body touched to his, pressed him to the bulkhead, and lips ghosted around the shell of his ear.
“My dear boy, I do not wish to force you, I truly do not. Yet all these nights, sleeping with you in my arms, feeling you against me, I...I cannot help myself, John, the way I desire you, the way I need you...”
Held, trapped, John knew it would come tonight, that thing they had been building towards since the very first night, sleep sweeter and deeper than any other in his life, cradled in his master’s arms. The Lieutenant would take him, whether he gave his consent or not. That his consent mattered not at all.
But he was not afraid of the older man. Only of himself, only his own emotions...
“I hear you, John, in the depths of the night. I hear you as you work yourself and spill your seed. The most beautiful noises you make. I listen and I wonder, who is your fantasy lover? Who do you desire?”
The Lieutenant swept his hands down the length of John’s body, cupping the slight curve of his ass and bringing their groins hard together, cock sliding against cock. The younger groaned into it, his hand gripping Morrison’s arm where it had been caressing, only moments before.
His master’s strength had been put into play.
“Tell me who it is that occupies the spaces of your mind, my lad. Tell me that your thoughts are filled of me, as mine are filled of you.” Lean hips started to thrust into John. “Tell me...”
And John squeezed his eyes shut. Caught up in the Lieutenant’s grasp as he was, pinned, flush against him, those hands were massaging his buttocks slowly, pulling him in. He gasped, forehead hitting Morrison’s shoulder, arms wrapping up around him of their own volition.
“Tell me you desire me as I desire you, my lad. “ the Lieutenant rumbled. “Tell me that you cannot sleep another night beside me without surrendering to me, without giving yourself to me.”
It was torture, it was perfect, it was overwhelming, flooding his senses, his whole body, his manhood hard as iron, caught up between their bellies. The thrusts were getting harder, that friction unbearable. John could feel the heat building inside of him, those stirrings, the ones that preceded...and he moaned as he was slammed back into the wall.
“Tell me, my sweet lad, tell me what you dream of.”
“M’lord, please...” he moaned, not sure what he was asking for, only knowing that he was close, that he was so close...
“Tell me, John Smith.”
A brutal thrust brought John almost to the edge, and he would have pitched forward, except for the wonderful bulk holding him there. Morrison braced his hands on the wall behind, hips viciously swift, threatening to shake him apart.
He pressed his forehead in further, clinging to the older man, smelling the salty musk of another man’s arousal, gasping for air. Everything in him was alive, singing... “I...I cannot...”
“Tell me,” Morrison whispered into his hair, voice gentle, close, pleading. “Tell me...”
Pleading...
John forced himself to pull back, to look up into those blue, blue eyes of his Lieutenant, and between the stimulation and the storm of emotion in him and the heat and his need and his master’s...he found the courage to say aloud that thing he, in the very moment itself, finally understood.
“Tis always you that I see in the night, m’lord. It cannot be anyone else. There is no room in my heart for another. I...I love you...” he whispered.
And then everything stopped.
John thought for a terrifying moment that he had done, said, something terribly, terribly wrong, with the manner Morrison’s bright eyes burrowing into him in the flickering light of the small cabin, inspecting him, questioning him, his words...
Then Morrison let out a groan like a man dying, and those hands left his back and John felt all his hope withering in his heart. But then a hand slipped down his thigh, urging it up, his body pressed to the hard wood of the bulkhead once more, the Lieutenant’s moist, hungry cock against him, and their mouths were very, very near to one another.
“And I you, my lad.”
Then those thin lips crashed down upon his own.
John did not know what to feel. His master, kissing him, kissing him, like he truly meant those few simple words, those words that would redefine the world, his world, their world, together. Kissing him. ‘Twas something new, something John had never felt before, all heat and teeth and lips and tongue, the overwhelming feel of Morrison around him, Morrison holding him, desiring him, loving him...
It unraveled John utterly.
He felt a surge through his body, like fire in the masts, burning him to the waterline, and John cried out, keening as he came, falling into Morrison’s arms as his seed flowed out of him into the space between, the world whiting to nothing.
He felt himself being moved, being swept up, like the ocean itself was pulling him away, but them his back hit soft sheets and he blinked, staring up at the smiling form of the older man above him.
“To be so young again,” Morrison sighed, almost wistful, and trailed fingers down the line of John’s thin belly, through the fuzz just beginning to appear, a wet cloth following, cleaning him. “To be so beautiful as you.”
John stared up. The Lieutenant's hair had fallen loose from its ribbon, fallen around his shoulders, curling slightly in the now-humid air of the cabin, tanned skin gleaming over taught muscles, but his eyes were soft from orgasm. And John thought he had never seen anything better. But himself, his skinny frame and overlong limbs? He turned his head, staring at the wall with its little port-hole thrown open for fresh air, sweeping out the heavy scents onto the moon-swept seas beyond. “Beautiful?”
“Aye, lad, you are beautiful, and not just in your body, but in your soul as well. So young, so innocent you are,” the Lieutenant continued, voice soft and deep, hands roaming across John’s hips, his belly, dipping between pallet and spine to stroke up his back, and the younger arched up, responding to that touch. “So many things I wish to teach you, so many things we may do together...”
John reached his fingers between them, touching as he had always wished to touch, feeling the drying moisture there, inching towards the older man’s cock. He had seen things, encounters between the men of the crew, so he knew how it should be between himself and his master, what his master had the rights to. It sent another rush of heat through him, the thought of taking him into himself in such a manner, of being filled...
But Lieutenant Morrison’s cock had gone soft as well, spent likely at the same time as his own, and John felt a small pang of regret, that he could not quite recall the details of their first sharing together.
“There shall be other times, John. Many more, should you wish it so.”
He nodded. “Master, I...”
A kiss was laid to his forehead. “Russell,” his Lieutenant told him in a whisper, holding them close together. “My name is Russell, lad, and you shall use it, when we are together in this way.”
John sucked his bottom lip in, nodding slowly. That was unexpected. That...was that something he was allowed? “But...”
“Say it, John. Say my name.”
“...m’lord, I cannot...”
“I do not desire you as one might a slave or a servant, John,” Morrison murmured so gently to him, tangling fingers down into John’s long hair. “I desire you in the manner that one man longs for another. I wish you for my lover. Do you understand that, my lad?”
“Y-yes, yes...yes...”
“Yes what, John?”
Slowly, hoping against hope that he understood his man, John opened his hand, reaching. Not in the line of his duties but in love, running a hand right over the smooth muscle above him, up that strong body, exerting a bit of his own strength as he half rose from the bed, pushing Russell down on his back, then dropping down, right over him, kissing him softly.
“Aye, Russell,” he replied, hand lingering as he spoke, feeling a shiver run through the older man, his lover, his lover, marveling at how much power he had over the older man, how much power Morrison held over him... "I would be your lover, if you will be mine."
Morrison chuckled, shoving him aside in jest, closing the porthole and grabbing the top covers, pulling it over them both, cool and clean once again. "Come to me, my love," he murmured and reached for John, arm up. "Come here to your rightful place beside me and stay with me..."
John curled in, chest to chest, and laid his head on Morrison's arm. "I have dreamed it was so, you and I," he admitted softly.
“Then I shall kiss you again, sweet boy,” his lover told him, moving to place that promised kiss on John's eager lips once more. “And hold you in your sleep, so we may see what other prophetic dreams you may have.”
"Then I shall dream we are together forever!" John declared boldly.
And Morrison laughed. A wonderful sound, John thought, and let his eyes fall shut.
