the Dalaverse

This is totally drbillbongo's fault.

Allow me to introduce you to the midshipmen who have been living in my brain for the past couple days. You may have met them before, but this time? This time they're horny. And beginning a series, tentatively titled "Brothers in Arms." The title of this installment is pilfered from a very early U2 song.

They done wore me out.

Way, way NC-17. Also very brief discussion of past sexual abuse, if you like to be warned about that sort of thing.

And not to beg or anything, but anybody who makes me an OT3 icon? I SHALL LOVE YOU FOREVER AND EVER OMGWTF.



Stories for Boys



“Rum is a marvelous, marvelous testament to man’s genius,” said Theodore as he gazed happily at the bottle in his hand. “I’ve no idea why the navy insist on watering it down, the bastards.”

“Don’t be disrespectful,” said Andrew, even though he had used harsher words himself in the past. Theodore stuck his tongue out at him, or rather into the bottle, as it was still pressed against his lips. Why did Andrew always have to be so contrary? If Theodore said something was white, Andrew would argue its essential blackness until he himself had gotten quite dark in the face. If Theodore complained about the rain, Andrew would turn his face up to the sky and smirk at him. If Theodore decided it was a good idea to spend their whole shore leave pleasantly drunk, Andrew would sniff distastefully and refuse the smallest drop. James didn’t charge at him like that. James didn’t argue just for the sake of argument.

That was the problem, he decided, the reason for why the three of them had been uncomfortable all day. James was agreeable and Andrew was not.

He plopped down on the bed near the window and frowned at the bottle in his hand. Was James agreeable just because he’d bought this rum? No, probably not. And in any case, Andrew’s prickliness was caused by the problem, but it was not the problem itself.

The problem was penises.

It was a multi-faceted dilemma, the penis problem. James had one and was apparently ashamed of it. Andrew had one, was ashamed of what he and Theodore had done to it the night before, and anxious to keep James from finding out. Theodore definitely had one and was not quite sure what to do with it at this point.

If one of them had been a girl, he figured, it would be simple enough: there would be a fight and a choice and eventually whoever was left in the lurch would get over it. But because they were three healthy young men living in close quarters, things ended up with a coin flipped over who shared the single bed and who slept in the pallet on the floor. The first night Andrew had lost, so James and Theodore took their separate sides of the bed. Morning saw them curled in the center, Theodore’s back to James’ chest, his arse a neat cradle to James’ extremely evident interest. For a few minutes he’d stayed still, unsure of what to do, enjoying the sensation of James rubbing ever so slightly against him as he sighed in his sleep. Before anything could progress further, James woke up, realized what actions his body had taken while he slumbered, and rolled away so hastily that he went straight off the edge of the bed. Theodore was disappointed, but he allowed James to believe that he’d been fast asleep the whole time. Nonetheless, James was distant for the rest of the day, and he offered to sleep on the floor the next night.

That had been last night. Last night...Theodore smiled, his eyes flicking over to Andrew standing in the doorway. Last night it had been himself wrapped around a friend. Only instead of remaining motionless, Andrew had turned in his arms and pressed closer to him, equally hard beneath his nightshirt. As the sun was rising they’d clutched at each other, making soft noises over James’ snores. Andrew said “James” once, as if his heart was breaking, but then he’d said, “Teddy,” and “Oh, Teddy,” so Theodore hadn’t minded. It was only after they’d both found release in grinding against each other that Andrew’s eyes fluttered open, widened with shock, and Theodore realized he’d been mostly asleep until that moment.

They parted, Theodore unnerved by the fear and shame in Andrew’s face, and cleaned themselves up quickly before James could awaken. The rest of the day had been quite unpleasant, and Theodore had been relieved when James purchased the rum for him and a bottle of plum brandy for himself. Andrew, even more adamantly refraining than before, had only sipped at a glass of wine with his supper.

He ought to thank James again, but he was nowhere to be seen.

“Andrew?” he queried, leaning back on his elbows. “Where’s James gotten to?”

The other boy shrugged and stuck his head out in the hallway, then pulled it back. James came hurtling in, the sound of a feminine giggle at his heels. “Shut the door!” he hissed at Andrew.

“Was that pretty blonde following you again?” Theodore chuckled, though he’d been stung by jealousy whenever the minx’s eyes settled on James.

“I’ll bet she’s a prostitute,” said Andrew. He gave Theodore and the bed a considering glance before choosing to sit on the rumpled pallet. Theodore resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but only because it would have made him dizzy in his present state.

Discomfort seemed to have fled James’ mind in the wake of his encounter. He sank down at the foot of the bed, dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t know what she is, nor do I care. She is frightening.”

“All women are frightening,” Theodore informed him. “Especially to a virgin.” Andrew choked on nothing but air. Theodore immediately covered his mouth with his hand, half dismayed and half amused. It had to have been the rum. Not even he was so frank in an ordinary mood.

James sat straight up and twisted around to glower at him. “What proof have you of that?” If he’d been a dog, his hackles would have been raised.

“Your reaction just now,” said Theodore with a grin. And that you panicked at the thought of touching me when we shared this bed.

Now James’ imaginary tail disappeared between his legs; he hung his head, a flush visible at the back of his neck. Andrew peered at him, astonished that someone as handsome and likeable as James would go so long untainted.

“Are you really?” he asked, a note of incredulity in his face. It didn’t bother Theodore that Andrew so openly worshiped James, because he could hardly blame him.

James blushed even deeper and turned his head away from them both. “I don’t believe you have had such a wealth of experience, Mr. Groves.”

“And you’d be wrong,” said Theodore, trying to hide his glee at the turn the conversation was taking. At last they could have it out and stop dancing around each other. “I’ve had more than my share of partners, from both sides of the sheets.”

James frowned, his brows knitting in puzzlement. “What’s that supposed to –”

“You haven’t,” Andrew whispered, and Theodore was surprised to see that his face had paled.

“Bedded both men and women?” Leaning back against the pillows, Theodore crossed his legs at the ankles and smiled with mock innocence. “I assure you, dear Andrew, I have.”

The bed creaked loudly, protesting James’ spinning himself around to gape. “Surely you are joking! You – you’re only seventeen!”

“Nearly eighteen,” Theodore corrected him, “and more than two years ago my father caught me kissing the miller’s son, Robert, in our feed shed.”

“Jesus Christ,” said James, and it was rare indeed to get him to curse so thoroughly. “What did he do?”

“He looked me in the eye and said, ‘Well, boy, I suppose you’re not going to be giving your mother any grandchildren, then.’” James blinked, unable to accept this mild reaction. Theodore had been quite startled by it at the time, but his father had always been the live and let live type. “Of course, he also told me to keep myself out of the rumor mill, because if Robert’s father found out and beat him, Da would be obliged to do the same.”

To look at James, you’d have thought he was a small boy and Theodore was telling a particularly enthralling adventure story. “Did he? Beat you for being found out, I mean?”

“Are you implying that I’m incapable of discretion?” Theodore thumped his fist against his heart. “I’m wounded, James, truly I am.”

“But I thought...” James shook his head, strands of dark hair pulling loose from his queue. “I understood that men only engaged in...intimate relations at sea, when they were desperate. When there were no women around.”

Theodore shrugged, finally polishing off the last of the rum and letting the bottle fall to the floor. “It’s common then, yes, but sometimes people just...prefer their own sex.”

“But you said you’d had both men and women,” James reminded him. Damn his attention to detail.

“Yes, I’ve been with women –” One woman, and only because she would have found out why I wouldn’t and spread it all over town. “– but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t...” He trailed off, looking up at the ceiling, mouth curled in a faint smile. “You wouldn’t understand.”

James pursed his lips. “It’s a sin,” he said. “It is a grievous sin to lie with a man as you would lie with a woman.”

This argument had never fazed Theodore. His family had gone to Church of England services for holidays, weddings, and funerals, but he hadn’t exactly recited Scripture at his mother’s knee. His elder brother Edward was the cleric in the family, and they were still all politely mystified about that. “I suppose I’ll have a word with God about that someday.”

Theodore expected Andrew to follow up with a comment on blasphemy, which was when he realized how much time had passed without Andrew saying anything at all.

He sat with his knees drawn up to his chin, arms wrapped around them, body as small as he could make it. It put Theodore in mind of his young nieces and nephews.

“Andrew?” he said quietly. Without looking at him, Andrew shoved himself to his feet and strode the few steps to the window, kicking the rum bottle beneath the bed. His shoulders were tense and bowed, his bright hair falling past his ears so that Theodore couldn’t see his face. He didn’t need to.

For a fleeting second he considered letting it drop, changing the subject, dodging whatever questions James asked because he didn’t understand. But he could not live with the memory of the way Andrew looked right now.

“Who was it?” He kept his voice as even and calm as he could, though there was anger beneath it. “Who, and when?” He was aware of James in confusion beside him, but the other boy held his tongue.

Andrew was silent for a long stretch, simply staring out the murky glass into the well-lit street below. Theodore waited, certain he could outlast him.

“A lieutenant onboard the Redoubtable,” he finally said, leaning his head against the window. “A year ago.”

A chill went down Theodore’s spine despite the warmth from the dying fire. He was the smallest of the three of them, but at not yet seventeen, Andrew was the youngest.

He continued speaking in a dull, flat tone devoid of his acid humor or occasional flashes of warmth. “It went on for a few months. He said – he said he would tell the captain...things I’d done. Lies, but whose word would –” He swallowed hard. “Finally another sailor, a good man, he figured out what was going on and persuaded me to go to Captain Rawls. Since I would not testify in court, there was nothing he could do except transfer me to another ship and...speak...to the man.”

“Oh, Andrew,” Theodore whispered. He realized he’d slowly risen to his knees.

Andrew’s head darted quickly to the side like a bird’s, though he didn’t quite look at them. He pulled the ragged linen curtains closed. “I don’t – it’s good now, on the Kestrel. I have the two of you.”

“You do,” said James, his voice low and earnest.

Theodore reached out to brush a sleeve, then a hand. When Andrew didn’t flinch, he pulled very, very gently and sat back until Andrew was in his arms.

“I apologize for bringing it up,” he said into Andrew’s shoulder.

Andrew’s hands closed over his and squeezed. “It’s all right. Better you knew.”

“So it is an evil thing,” said James at the fringes of their embrace. Both boys turned to him, and Theodore realized he was talking about the topic in a general sense again.

“No, it isn’t,” he said fiercely, anger taking him over for the moment. James started at the look on his face. “Cruelty and abuse have nothing to do with loving.”

To his great surprise, Andrew nodded. “He’s right, you know. It isn’t the same as what Theodore has known. Or so I would hope.” His mouth twisted with bitter humor, and Theodore couldn’t help it – he kissed him. It was a chaste kiss, just a brush of the lips, as brothers might share. Theodore, despite what had passed between them the night before, meant nothing by it but comfort.

The look in Andrew’s eyes when he pulled away was not brotherly in the least. He set his jaw in a determined sort of way, took Theodore’s face in his hands, and kissed him properly. Somewhere Theodore heard the soft intake of James’ breath, but he was too preoccupied with the pressure of Andrew’s mouth on his to care.

After a few moments, they broke apart. Andrew was breathing shakily, but he smiled at Theodore.

“Oh,” said James faintly. There was color in his cheeks again. Theodore had a sneaking suspicion it was due to more than embarrassment.

“Would you like a more extensive demonstration?” Theodore asked him. James swallowed as if his throat had gone dry. Turning back, he said, “Andrew, may I kiss you again?”

Andrew tilted his head to one side, considering. “You may.”

This time, they didn’t stop until the need for unobstructed air became too great. It was enough time for him to map out the contours of Andrew’s tongue and teeth and gums, and for them both to strip down to breeches. Theodore’s face split into a grin – he’d seen both James and Andrew naked before, of course, but he’d never had the opportunity to touch. And oh, it turned out Andrew was ticklish.

James, perched at the very end of the bed, cleared his throat. “Ah, should I – perhaps go downstairs...?”

“Don't you dare!” Theodore exclaimed, reaching out to grasp his wrist.

“How can you be convinced if you’re not here to witness the demonstration?” Andrew’s hands at his waistband were shy and light, but they were definitely there. Satisfied that James wasn’t going anywhere, Theodore released him and stretched out on the bed. Andrew looked down at him, his face uncertain.

“Andrew, I would not ask you to do anything you didn’t want.”

Fingertips running up and down his arm, Andrew said, “What do you want, Teddy?”

“I want you inside me,” Theodore replied frankly. “With James here to watch, and to lend a hand if he feels so bold.” A choked noise issued from behind Andrew, and they both smiled.

Andrew looked down, found Theodore’s hand and laced their fingers together. “Yes,” he said, then more firmly, “Yes.”

“Well, good,” was all Theodore had time to say before Andrew fell atop him in a spirited attempt to suck all the breath from his lungs.

The effects of the rum had mostly burned off, but the distorted sense of time remained. He couldn’t tell how long it took for Andrew to settle between his legs, to finish undressing, for his heart to pause between beats. James didn’t touch them, but he wasn’t forgotten because he was not the sort of person one easily forgot, and anyway, he removed the clothing to a safer place.

“We need...we need something slick,” Theodore gasped, half-tempted to just move together until they reached completion, but he wanted Andrew to have this, and he very much wanted it for himself. Andrew whimpered his agreement and went back to gnawing at Theodore’s nipples.

James glanced around the room. “Will oil from the lamp do?”

Theodore gave him the sultriest eyes he could manage. “You are so clever, James,” he purred. James’ face went tight and tense, as did his breeches, Theodore was pleased to note. He took the opportunity to strip as he got up to fetch the lamp. When he blew it out, the room was plunged into such darkness that they all froze.

“Curtains – right,” said James.

Moonlight showed fresh apprehension on Andrew’s face. Theodore wrapped both legs tighter around his waist, hoping his nerve wouldn’t fail. At this moment, there was absolutely nothing he wanted more than to send Andrew Gillette spiraling off to heights he’d never dreamed of, and he couldn’t exactly do that if Andrew bowed out.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Andrew whispered, and Theodore felt the urge to cluck at him like a mother hen.

“You won’t, sweet,” Theodore promised thickly, stroking his shoulder blades to ease the tremors. “Don’t be afraid.”

James’ weight made the bed sag. He slipped in beside Theodore, chin to his shoulder, hand on Andrew’s braced arm. “You are safe with us.”

Andrew looked at him and believed him in a way that Theodore on his own couldn’t evoke, and that was all right, because after the care he was taking with Andrew, he fully intended to enjoy debauching Mr. Midshipman Norrington.

James had the lamp, so James had the oil, and he apparently meant to keep it that way. Curiously, watching himself, he slid his hand down between their bodies, closing his slippery fingers over first Theodore’s and then Andrew’s cock, stroking them from root to tip. He looked pleased and intrigued by their twin moans.

There was no time for bloody James to be a tease. Groves wriggled beneath Andrew, hooking a leg over his shoulder. “It goes – now – your fingers,” he said, denying to himself that he was babbling.

James nodded as seriously as if this were a question of navigation. The tip of his finger pressed slowly in, while he and Andrew watched the play of emotion and sensation over Theodore’s face.

“Oh God,” he breathed, “yes, like that – more –”

“Another?” James asked. At Theodore’s frantic nod, another finger breached him, twisting with the first, then independently. Deeper – there.

“Do you feel that?” he demanded of James.

“You do,” Andrew noted tartly, some of his composure restored now that the focus of attention was elsewhere.

James scissored his fingers and pressed against that spot again. “That's what it is, that's why -- are you absolutely sure you’ve never done this before, James?”

“Never, but I’m starting to wonder why not,” said James, his voice rich and dark with amusement. He tilted his head to kiss Theodore for the first time, and it was funny, the difference in taste. If pressed, Theodore wouldn’t be able to say exactly what either of them tasted like – at least beyond ‘like Andrew’ and ‘like James’ – but he could definitely say that they did not taste the same.

A cool damp touch at the corner of his mouth was Andrew jumping into the kiss. It didn’t work very well – it was messy and they bumped noses – but Theodore wanted to laugh with the joy of it. How much time he’d wasted pontificating over which one of his friends he would prefer. It was clear now that it was meant to be like this, the three of them together, sharing the kiss and the oil and the starry dark like they shared meals and a berth and the responsibilities of their posts.

“Andrew, please,” he said through gritted teeth when he’d got them back to himself again. James’ fingers drew out and Andrew’s cock slipped inside. His blue eyes squeezed shut and he cried out sharply, almost falling. James helped lift him up. Theodore shuddered at the familiar presspushin, the brief withdrawal, then again, again, again...

So much better like this. So much better because it was Andrew and he never had, because James was kissing him again, because there was a hand squeezing his cock and he honestly wasn’t sure to whom it belonged. It didn’t matter because whoever it was, it was his, they were his and this was his and he had given it to them – they had given it to each other.

“Teddy,” Andrew was saying, his voice ragged and interrupted by kisses here and there. James – it was James, he thought – was working him faster, and Andrew was shafting him harder, and between the two of them it was a wonder his whole body didn’t shatter when he came. He knew he didn’t, because he could feel Andrew let go inside him not long after. There were hands stroking, soothing, lips caressing, chests and bellies colliding in the slow, sweet aftermath. Andrew collapsed atop him, which was normally something he disliked, but James was there to take some of the weight.

James – “Poor James, what would you have?” Theodore murmured, licking beads of sweat from James’ temple. “This all started because you’d never felt the touch of another, after all.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” said James wildly, hips surging up as Theodore grasped his erection. Andrew moved off to the side with a grumble. After a stretch and a wince – despite his assurance to the contrary, he would be sore tomorrow – Theodore slithered lazily down James’ body.

“This is a good place to start,” he said, and closed soft lips around the head of James’ cock. James started to tremble and Theodore took him deeper, guessing that even his patience had a limit. Andrew curled closer, laying a hand on Theodore’s head. Theodore glanced up to see James’ head thrown back on the pillow, his face twisted up with rapture. Andrew’s head was on his stomach and he was watching avidly.

He felt James throb in his throat and he pulled back a little, letting seed splash across his tongue. Sucking gently until James was done, he crawled up, past Andrew, and kissed James so he would know what he tasted like – what they all tasted like.

It took some poking and prodding before a consensus was reached over sleeping arrangements. James couldn’t be moved, so Andrew shifted over to let Theodore claim the middle.

“This was my idea, after all,” Theodore said smugly.

“Good on you,” said James with an enormous yawn, which gave Theodore very nice indications about how wide his mouth might stretch.

Andrew made a muffled noise that could have been either affirmative or indignant. Tucked into the bed and each other like kittens in a basket, they slept as only exhausted young men can sleep – deeply, and without dreams.