Ah, calculated. A clever boy— respectful, too, of their duties and Crozier's loyalty to them. It makes him feel flattered, and it makes him appreciate Jopson's professionalism. Because what other word is there for it, even when this is the subject matter?
If they were both younger, stewards or midships, one or the other, they could fumble in closets and holds and not worry at all about the comfort of resting together, too energetic to be troubled. But he finds that he prefers this, even if it's bittersweet. The mismatched edges are like interlocking puzzle pieces.
"It does."
Small touches, bumping together. Crozier kisses him again, and continues to do so; slow and thorough, with no further petting or grabbing. They don't have the luxury of carrying on right now, with so much to do now that they're back on board, but they can use those minutes made from Jopson crafting his scheduling just so. The drawback, though, is also one of Jopson's making, so his steward better not complain too much when Crozier prevents him from helping him undress any further.
"Another night for that." He gives him a look. "You were too successful in pleasing me. Now go on."
They could kiss all evening and Jopson would be content with it - sweet and lazy things, leaning into one another and letting the time pass them. He finds he enjoys kissing the Captain, the soft little things in puffs of silence, the brush of noses and the soft and fleeting touches. The arm around his waist is everything, gluing them together in a way that he hopes to commit to memory.
This ship will set sail for England, eventually, and these are the moments he wishes to hold onto.
Crozier knows him well, though, for he does reach for the trousers he's left the man in, whether out of desire or professionalism, it's hard to say. He can only offer the older man a smile, a soft nod of his head.
"Ah, yes, of course, sir."
It takes a moment to disentangle himself but he does, and turns in the small space to draw back Crozier's bedclothes, to check the hot pans for the last dregs of their warmth - he opts to leave them. Once he's sure all things are in place he gives a small nod.
"Good night, Captain. I'll see to you in the morning."
He turns, but there's the softest brush of fingers against the man's, knuckles to knuckles, before he steps into the great cabin. He tidies up his kettle and cup, tucks all the chairs back into their place, turns out any lamps, and shuts the door behind him.
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If they were both younger, stewards or midships, one or the other, they could fumble in closets and holds and not worry at all about the comfort of resting together, too energetic to be troubled. But he finds that he prefers this, even if it's bittersweet. The mismatched edges are like interlocking puzzle pieces.
"It does."
Small touches, bumping together. Crozier kisses him again, and continues to do so; slow and thorough, with no further petting or grabbing. They don't have the luxury of carrying on right now, with so much to do now that they're back on board, but they can use those minutes made from Jopson crafting his scheduling just so. The drawback, though, is also one of Jopson's making, so his steward better not complain too much when Crozier prevents him from helping him undress any further.
"Another night for that." He gives him a look. "You were too successful in pleasing me. Now go on."
no subject
This ship will set sail for England, eventually, and these are the moments he wishes to hold onto.
Crozier knows him well, though, for he does reach for the trousers he's left the man in, whether out of desire or professionalism, it's hard to say. He can only offer the older man a smile, a soft nod of his head.
"Ah, yes, of course, sir."
It takes a moment to disentangle himself but he does, and turns in the small space to draw back Crozier's bedclothes, to check the hot pans for the last dregs of their warmth - he opts to leave them. Once he's sure all things are in place he gives a small nod.
"Good night, Captain. I'll see to you in the morning."
He turns, but there's the softest brush of fingers against the man's, knuckles to knuckles, before he steps into the great cabin. He tidies up his kettle and cup, tucks all the chairs back into their place, turns out any lamps, and shuts the door behind him.