Stephen plight

part 6

Stephen rushed out of Jack's quarters, his face flushed and tears drying on his cheeks. His blood ran cold.

Jack had come on to him! The damnable idiot had shown his intentions, had practically got off on his thigh. His face flushed anew.

How had this happened? How did he let this come about?

He pushed into his room. He was tearing his clothes off as he closed the door.

Filled with anger, he tossed his pants across the room and slumped to the ground.

Jack, his friend, his captain, perhaps the person he was closest to had. . . had. . he didn't even know what he had done.

The idea was something he wanted to push away. He needed a bath. He needed to wash Jack off of himself. A shudder ran through him as he recalled Jack's words in his ear.

"I'll make you feel good." God, had Jack felt this way about him all along? He had loved Jack; he didn't know if he still did, but he had. But now it was all fucked. Jack had. . Perhaps it was his fault since he didn't say no. No, he had resisted; that should be enough.

He covered his face and sobbed.

How would he continue? How would he look at Jack tomorrow? He would lock himself in his room forever, never to witness the light of day again. Damn that man.

Maybe if he could hide till they came to port, possibly slip away unnoticed, go to Spain. Forget all about Jack and the surprise.

He wiped away the tears from his swollen eyes.

He needed a bath. He desperately needed to wash the memory from himself.

He stood up and went to his little mirror. The mirror reflected a haunted image of him. He didn't have any fresh water, but the sea water would do.

He composed himself and made his way to the deck.

From the deck, he stared out at the water.

He had not brought a bucket with him. He considered using a rope to descend the ship and rest in the water. It would pull him along while he cleaned Jack off.

He made up his mind and located a rope to fasten around himself. Once the rope was safely attached to a hook, he proceeded to climb over the side.

****

Bonden leaned on the wheel, his eyes heavy. The night had been dull, and his thoughts wandered aimlessly.

At present, he was thinking about Stephen. How he hoped the doctor was fine. His strained relationship with the captain seemed to hurt him more than Bonden knew how to help. And the damned captain was no help bursting into his room this morning! Bonden thought about how peaceful it could have been. They could have spent the entire morning in each other's company, conversing and caressing.

His face flushed. He didn't consider himself or Stephen as sexual beings, but he desired the doctor's touch. To know how what it felt like to be desired. His mind drifted to darker thoughts as he contemplated himself.

What if Stephen wished for more? He was perfectly content to hold the man to cuddle, but what would he do if he wanted to sleep properly with him?

He temporarily abandoned the wheel to shake off his thoughts.

When he reached the end of the quarterdeck, he saw someone on the port side securing a rope to the rail hooks. The man was practically naked, his modesty barely protected by a long undershirt.

Bonden was about to shout at him, but then he recognized the small figure. It was Stephen.

And Stephen was climbing over the side of the ship in nothing but a shirt. Bonden started.