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Aubrey and Maturin double drabble: "Purgation"
I wrote this in March for the First Ever Dreamwidth Age of Sail Anonymous Kinkmeme, where I left it anonymous for over a month. But I thought there might be people who would enjoy it who didn't know/care about the kinkmeme.
Title: Purgation
Fandom: Aubrey and Maturin
Characters: Stephen Maturin
Rating: Teen
Warnings: None needed
Word Count: 200
Notes: The prompt was "Stephen Maturin masturbating . . . his inner voice while he does it."
It is a sin, of course. Even a crime in the navy, where it's called uncleanness and men are flogged for it. As great a crime as failing to holystone the precious decks, sure. Strange similarity in the motion, the wrist's flexion, the rubbing. The quickening breath.
Uncleanness. What folly in a word. The reasonable mind knows this too is a cleansing. Doesn't this little sin invigorate the humours and stir the blood? Doesn't it purge the mind for a while of its clouding, sullying fancies?
The ridding of excess is medicinal, and seldom so pleasant.
Stephen will spend--soon now, oh how he burns--and the lesser sin will push out the greater, scrub away the vicious inclinination of his whole being towards such an object. Such a scandalous object, ludicrous, unbeautiful, foolish, fat and scarred and no lovely creature, no quick and graceful Diana, no goddess, only plain unlearned gluttonous word-mangling lose-not-a-minute jesting smiling brave and true himself, Jack, only Jack.
Stephen wipes the emission away with a handkerchief, and there, it is gone. He need not remember it, any more than the deck's clean wood remembers its old dirt. Nothing remains but the trembling in his hands.
Title: Purgation
Fandom: Aubrey and Maturin
Characters: Stephen Maturin
Rating: Teen
Warnings: None needed
Word Count: 200
Notes: The prompt was "Stephen Maturin masturbating . . . his inner voice while he does it."
It is a sin, of course. Even a crime in the navy, where it's called uncleanness and men are flogged for it. As great a crime as failing to holystone the precious decks, sure. Strange similarity in the motion, the wrist's flexion, the rubbing. The quickening breath.
Uncleanness. What folly in a word. The reasonable mind knows this too is a cleansing. Doesn't this little sin invigorate the humours and stir the blood? Doesn't it purge the mind for a while of its clouding, sullying fancies?
The ridding of excess is medicinal, and seldom so pleasant.
Stephen will spend--soon now, oh how he burns--and the lesser sin will push out the greater, scrub away the vicious inclinination of his whole being towards such an object. Such a scandalous object, ludicrous, unbeautiful, foolish, fat and scarred and no lovely creature, no quick and graceful Diana, no goddess, only plain unlearned gluttonous word-mangling lose-not-a-minute jesting smiling brave and true himself, Jack, only Jack.
Stephen wipes the emission away with a handkerchief, and there, it is gone. He need not remember it, any more than the deck's clean wood remembers its old dirt. Nothing remains but the trembling in his hands.
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I really love it. I love how controlled and yet hot it really is. Wow.
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If you're an Aubrey and Maturin fan, I also have a ficlet for that fandom (gen, with subtext) on the AO3: A Naturalist At Sea.