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lafiametta · 6 years

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@libertines76 sent in this Jopson/Little prompt: “Little/Jopson making out (or more!) in a supply closet (for example) and get caught by someone cool- like McDonald. But he’s super chill and like, ‘Oh, boys…just gonna grab what I came in here for and leave you to it.’ And he does. And they’re not scared he’s going to tell anyone b/c he’s hella awesome and doesn’t care they’re together. So they keep at it. (I suppose this could pretty much be the opposite of what happened when Irving caught Hickey/Gibson together).”

What a smashing idea, I have to say, and I hope I’ve done it justice! :) And fair warning: there’s a racier bit just below the cut!

(An authorial tip of the hat to tautline-hitch’s fantastic post on homosexuality and the British navy, which helped inform some of Little’s thinking.)

His mind contained nothing resembling rational thought as he pressed Thomas up against the paneled wall of the otherwise deserted wardroom, his hands grasping, greedy as an impatient child. The steward widened his stance to allow Edward closer, heat and desire quickly blossoming in the narrow space between their hips, fierce enough to rival the searing warmth of lips and tongues as both collided in shared need.

It had not been a planned encounter, but rather one of opportunity – something they were afforded so rarely aboard a ship as crowded as Terror. The captain had convened a brief officers’ meeting following the midday meal – it ended, as they almost always did, without resolving much of anything – and as Edward stepped back into the passageway, he had caught a glimpse of Thomas through the half-open wardroom door, stacking the sauce-stained china into neat piles upon the table. The steward had been humming something under his breath, utterly absorbed in his work, a length of dark hair falling rakishly across his pale brow.

In truth, he had been watching Thomas for most of the meal, his eyes continually drawn to the steward like a lodestone, but seeing him in the wardroom – entirely alone, his handsome features illuminated in the warmth of the lantern light – was enough to arouse a wave of lust that Edward felt powerless to ignore. Succumbing to his urges, he had slipped past the door and tugged it shut behind him, and then without prelude reached out and pulled Thomas into a dizzying kiss.

It was frenzy and madness, heightened by the knowledge of how little time they had, how easily they might be discovered – and yet they could not stop, breath overturning rapidly, desire coiling deep within the belly, fingers slipping past fabric and encountering smooth, uninterrupted flesh. With a fumbling hand Edward undid the first few buttons of Thomas’s trousers, and then pushed aside shirttail and drawers until the prize he sought was just within reach. Thomas panted, a low keening sound emerging from the back of his throat as Edward palmed him tenderly and then began to stroke.

His forehead fell against Thomas’s, skin feverishly warm, their lips meeting again and again in breathless desperation, the rhythm a soft echo of the steady movement of Edward’s hand. The steward’s grip grew tighter along his upper arm, urging him onward, fueling his own aching need—

With no apparent warning, the door to the passageway slid open, and, startled from their reverie, the two of them hastily broke apart. Thomas barely had time to pull his coat closed over his partially unbuttoned trousers before the doorway revealed the fair-haired form of Dr. McDonald.

He glanced over and took them both in, and Edward could feel his racing heart begin to still with icy fear, for while they had been quick enough not to be caught outright, it would no doubt still seem suspicious that they were together in the wardroom, engaged in some private activity, the door shut tight. Moreover, one look at Thomas – cheeks flushed, collar tugged out of place, lips pink and ripely swollen – and the doctor could easily guess what had been taking place just before he arrived.

The fog of lust quickly dissipated from Edward’s mind as it began to fully dawn on him what real danger they were in. Were Dr. McDonald to mention to the captain what he saw, or even make a formal accusation, as well he might, the consequences would be swift and unquestionably severe. Edward had once known a sailor hung for sodomy – he had been a young midshipman then, wide-eyed and impressionable – and while there was no proof to support such a charge against himself or Thomas, they might easily be found guilty of lesser offenses. At worst, a verdict of uncleanness could see him stripped of his rank, and Thomas of his position, and the both of them flogged, perhaps even imprisoned in the confines of the hold until they finally returned home.

It was a possibility almost too terrible to contemplate, not just for himself, but especially for Thomas, who was guilty of nothing more than being in possession of an overly generous heart. And to imagine him disgraced, back bared to the whole of the ship’s company as the lash came down, bloody stripes marring that lovely pale expanse? Edward could not bear it. At that moment he decided, no matter the outcome, he would not allow Thomas to be held responsible for their actions. Before that happened, he would confess to having forced the steward into such intimacies by prerogative of rank or else by making some crude, uninvited attempt upon his person.

And yet as Edward carefully watched the expression on the doctor’s face, he could see no indication that the other man had observed anything out of the ordinary in the wardroom.

“Ah, Lieutenant, Mr. Jopson,” he said, cheerfully as ever. “I seem to have misplaced my spectacles at some point after dinner. I’ve searched the sick bay with no luck, and then wondered if I might have left them here.”

Thomas, to his credit, appeared entirely calm, taking a step away from the wall as he fastened a single button on his coat to close it, a tiny, inconspicuous slip of the fingers that would draw little attention, despite its necessity.

“I haven’t seen them on the table, sir,” he offered, “but is it possible you might have left them in your own cabin? Perhaps before dinner began?”

The doctor nodded, pursing his lips as he considered the possibility, and then skirted the edge of the table until he reached the door in the center of the wall. He pushed it open, disappearing for a moment into the relative darkness of his cabin, and from there emerged a small sound of satisfaction.

“Yes,” he said, as he reappeared in the doorway, clutching a pair of round spectacles. “I had forgotten them on my writing desk. Very good, Mr. Jopson. You’re a credit to your profession.”

He slid his cabin door closed again and took several steps forward, only to pause just across the table from Edward and Thomas. Was this when the accusation would come? Edward wondered, his chest growing tighter with nervous dread. Had the doctor simply been waiting to collect his thoughts before he made it clear to them what he planned to tell the captain?

“I’m pleased to find these,” Dr. McDonald finally said, as he absently tapped the metal rim of his spectacles against his open palm, smiling a little to himself. “At the risk of my own vanity, I’ll confess that I’m nearly blind as a mole without them. I can’t see much of anything these days, even at a distance. In fact, I’m surprised I was even able to recognize you both when I came in.”

He turned his gaze towards them once again, his expression open and direct, as if he did not want them to mistake his meaning.

“And were I to come across the two of you in some other place, at some unexpected time,” he added, “I’m certain I would have absolutely no sense of what I was seeing. If pressed, I would only be able to report seeing you engaged in some form of polite conversation.”

“Of course,” Edward offered, not knowing how else to respond. The doctor did not reply, but simply nodded in acknowledgement, that wry half-smile still lingering at the corner of his mouth, and then made his way back through the wardroom door, pulling it shut as he departed.

As he stood there, some part of Edward did not understand what had just happened – he and Thomas had been caught in clear violation of the Articles and yet there would be no punishment, no consequences at all? – but mostly he wanted to weep with relief at his good fortune, even as he was certain he had done little to deserve it. He glanced over at Thomas, who undoubtedly was thinking the same as he, and watched the color as it returned to his pale cheeks, for a moment reminding him of what they had been doing just before they had been interrupted. His desire was still there, right below the surface, but the fear that still coursed through his veins made him cautious, and it seemed foolish to risk fate twice in one afternoon.

So instead of pulling the steward into his arms, as so much of him longed to do, he reached down and clasped his hand, intertwining Thomas’s warm fingers with his own.

“Come to my cabin tonight, during first watch,” he murmured, feeling an anticipatory smile bubble to his lips, “and we might continue where we left off.”

#the terror amc #the terror #fanfiction #thomas jopson #edward little #jopson x little #alexander mcdonald #libertines76 #joplittle

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