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“I’d like to hear more out of you, love,” Alexander says gently one evening. He and John are curled up together in his berth after a long day of dispensing and dealing with the crew’s complaints. What had started out as a quick way to relieve stress after their shifts has grown into something slower and sweeter, and he invites John to spend the night with him as often as he can now. Every night would arouse suspicion, but he appreciates John’s company when he has it. It is all too easy to grow morose lying alone with his thoughts, listening to the creaking of the ship’s timbers and the cracking of the ice outside. Having another person there keeps him tethered. (Besides, sharing body heat is only practical in this cold. Were it more socially acceptable, Alexander would prescribe it to all the men.)
“Not that your other reactions aren’t delightful, of course,” Alexander says, slipping a hand down and palming at John’s cock to invoke one of those very reactions now. It works like a charm—John twitches upwards into his touch. “But I’d like to hear your voice.” His own voice has pitched down a bit lower now, heavy with desire.
“Not if it makes you uncomfortable, mind,” Alexander continues, “I’d not make you do anything you don’t want to. It’s just—a man needs a little more feedback sometimes, hm? A bit of encouragement, so I know I’m going in the right direction.”
John picks his head up off Alexander’s chest and looks up at him with a brow slightly furrowed. It’s something he does often, and Alexander has learned to read John’s silent expressions well, he likes to think, in both the bedroom and in their daily lives. He knows this is confusion, but not necessarily refusal.
“Lieutenant Little's on deck for watch, and the captain will have taken his drops by now; he'll be out like a light. We shan’t be overheard,” he tries as a more practical way to quell any fears John might have about the occupants of the cabins on either side of them. John still looks unconvinced.
“Is the problem that you don’t know what to say? I wouldn’t mind if you read a medical textbook to me, in truth. It might be fun, seeing how long you could keep your composure, reciting the bones of the hand while I’ve got my fingers up your—”
John firmly shakes his head “no” before Alexander can get any further. He looks incredibly unenthusiastic about being forced to read aloud, so Alexander files the idea away for later, most likely for a different partner.
“Or maybe not,” he acquiesces. “You could tell me what you’d like to do to me, or I to you, though, if we had more space. If we had a real bed, one with bedposts, you could tie me to them and have your wicked way with me,” this earns him a smile, “Or you could bend me over a writing desk. During exams week in medical school one year my roommate and I were so fed up with studying that we took our frustrations out on each other that way, and I honestly think we performed all the better for it.”
Now that he’s gotten himself going, Alexander finds it difficult to stop. He is quite the talker in bed, he has to admit. Most of his partners haven’t minded the chattiness; he is free with compliments, and almost no one is immune to flattery. The few that have complained about his mouth have been eager to rise to the challenge of shutting him up.
John, though, does not seem receptive to any of his suggestions yet. Perhaps a practical demonstration would be more effective, Alexander reasons, and so he proceeds with the next phase of his plan to get a peep out of his dear assistant.
Alexander moves down to kiss John’s stomach, ghosting his fingers down towards his hips, and—
“Oh!”
It’s a soft sound, more surprise than anything else, but it’s certainly a step in the right direction.
“Oh?” Alexander echoes, and brushes his fingers against his sides once more. John reacts instantly, nearly folding himself in half, and, to Alexander’s delight, laughing out loud.
“Are you a bit ticklish then, love?” he says as he presses harder, rubbing his fingertips in quick little circles.
“Yes,” John gasps, and laughs again. “I—I suppose I am.”
“You are!” Alexander grins madly—this is something he can respond to—and practically pounces on him. His hands roam across John’s torso, mapping out all the most sensitive areas, as John puts up a playful fight. They’re about the same height, and quite equally matched—John could easily push him off if he were really uncomfortable. But he’s clearly enjoying this, and when Alexander gives up at last, John grabs him and pulls him back down for a kiss.
After a few moments more of this, Alexander returns to the task he had originally set out to accomplish. He kisses his way back down John’s body, nuzzles the junction of his thigh.
“Do you want my mouth on you, love?” he asks, looking up at John through his lashes in a way he knows will work.
John nods, cheeks blazing red.
“Tell me out loud,” he says, and John whines.
“Yes, please.”
“There we are,” Alexander croons, patting his thigh. “Try to talk to me, tell me how it feels. Don't think about it too hard. Just say what first comes to your mind.”
And before John can reply (or not reply) to that, he takes him in his mouth.
“It’s—you’re—” John stumbles over his words.
Alexander hums encouragingly.
“Hot? Your mouth, that is—warm. Wet,” John tries. “It’s nice.”
Alexander swirls his tongue. He’d like to think he’s doing better than “nice,” but he supposes it will have to do.
“Very nice,” John pants, then lapses back into silence.
The other usual signs he’s enjoying himself are there, at least: his hands tangled in Alexander’s hair, his breath coming in short little gasps. Alexander can’t see his face from this angle, but he knows John’s soft brown eyes will be squeezed shut.
Just when Alexander has all but given up on hearing from him, though, John makes a noise. It’s just a soft “ah,” but it sounds like he’s trying to say something, so Alexander stills for a second, prompting a whine and a thrust of hips.
“Keep going, please,” John begs, and Alexander resumes enthusiastically. After choking out a few more single syllable words—”yes” and “please” and “more”—he manages a whole phrase—“Need you”—and that is much more the sort of thing Alexander wants to hear, so he takes him down as deep as he can, swallows, and brings a hand up to rub at his stones for good measure.
“Alexander,” John moans as he climaxes, and Alexander has to stop himself from smiling until he’s worked him through it.
Lazily, Alexander traces a path back up John’s torso, careful not to tickle too much while his partner is still recovering. He rubs his thumb over John’s cheek, relishing the rasp of his whiskers, and presses another kiss to his temple. He’s very proud of him.
John gestures down at Alexander’s own half-hard prick, and Alexander takes his meaning. Don’t you want me to repay you?
“No, love, not tonight,” Alexander says. He’s tired, and this was for John’s benefit more than his own. “Maybe in the morning, though, if you’d like to stay?” he suggests.
John nods again, but then stops and reconsiders.
“I’d like that very much, Alexander,” he says quietly, and Alexander smiles and wraps his arms around him.