Work Text:
"Are you certain of this remedy?" Walton asked, casting a dubious glance at his first mate, who thrust the bottle of brandy towards him with an air of the surest medical certainty.
"Completely certain, sir, a small application to the vital areas - chest, neck, the lymph nodes. Gets the blood pumping, improves circulation - he'll be up and about in no time, works like a charm whenever one of the boys is suffering from fever." He paused as Walton took the bottle of precious liquid, and weighed it in his hand in a resigned, albeit skeptical manner.
"Alright, I've got no better options, I suppose I must try it - surely no harm could come of it either way."
"After we hauled him up onto the deck a bit of brandy did wonders for him. Give 'em a glass a day too - looks like he needs it, the miserable chap..." The sailor winked as he left to resume his duties. Walton knew the crew found it most amusing that their captain was trapped in the companionship of an invalid.
He entered his private quarters, and his gaze fell on Victor, as he’d learned the man’s name was, quilts heaped on top of his sleeping form as he reclined by the stove. Walton stood quietly for a moment, watching the way the light flickered across his handsome, care-worn features as he slept.
He took his jacket off, hanging it in the small closet, and heard him stir slightly. Turning, Walton saw that his guest still dozed, but seemed to be struggling back to consciousness. He moved to the edge of the makeshift bed, bottle in hand.
"I have procured something to alleviate your fever..." he said, and Frankenstein uttered a few unintelligible syllables in a foreign tongue. Walton began to peel back the layers of blankets that nearly drowned him, and his pale brow furrowed at the loss of warmth.
Walton pulled them back farther, his slender neck and the smooth skin of his chest now bare. The clothes he had been wearing had been damp and cold enough to posit a serious health hazard, and were hanging in the corner of the room to dry. He remembered the mention of lymph nodes as particularly important, and knew he would need to be even more intrusive to the sick man's privacy. However, he decided to delay fully removing the blanket for at least a few blessed moments.
Walton applied a bit of the fiery substance to his hands, and hesitantly touched his skin, rubbing his thumbs on either side of Victor's jaw. His skin retained the heat of a receding fever, but did not burn nearly so worryingly as the previous night. The fact that Victor was recovering nearly overwhelmed him with joy, for Walton thought he saw in this eloquent, gentle soul the friend he had spent much of his life longing for.
Victor's eyes fluttered open as he stroked his skin gently, his face slightly flushed with the warmth of sickness. He shivered as Walton's hands trailed down the side of his neck. Victor's lips parted, as though he were about to complain, but meeting Walton's eyes briefly, he said nothing.
There seemed to be a great deal contained in that silence, and Walton began to feel strangely apprehensive as he reapplied the remedy to his hands and began to rub it firmly into the smooth surface of his chest. Victor's fine eyes watched his movements, and Walton could feel the quickened rise and fall of his breath as he shivered slightly from his cool touch.
He wondered if he simply imagined this increase in pace, if perhaps he was moving his hands too sensually. Was he not simply attending to his duty in nursing Victor back to health?
"How are you feeling?" He said, wishing to dispel the silence and the tension that seemed to writhe like some starving, incensed creature in the space between them.
Victor's gaze slowly moved to meet his, his eyes holding an unreadable emotion. "Very well, compared with this morning... " he said, his voice slightly hoarse. "This remedy, though strange, is quite... liberating." He paused to inhale unsteadily, "I feel I shall soon be granted release from my remaining symptoms."
Walton attempted to steel his mind to the task at hand, and moved his hands under Victor's arms, where he, in his limited knowledge of medicine, knew the ever important lymph nodes to be vaguely situated. However, all hope of objective focus was lost when a slight, breathy exhalation escaped Victor's lips as his thumb accidentally brushed one of his nipples.
His fingers shook as he realized he now needed to further uncover this man, whose piercing gaze rested upon him in anticipation, whose words had made his heart hammer dangerously. He considered stopping the treatment, but should Victor's health decline on account of his lack of thoroughness, he felt he would be unable to live with the guilt.
Walton gently tugged the blanket downwards, revealing the soft dip of Victor's hips. Heat crept up his neck as he viewed the clear evidence of an eagerness he had thought he merely imagined.
He hesitated, unsure of what to say. Victor leveled his gaze somewhat imperiously at him, looking at him drowsily through his lashes.
"Do continue," he said, a hint of commandment in his tone. "You've done a very thorough job thus far, and the results have been quite pleasing." He spoke with a certain mesmerizing confidence, the kind only attainable through noble breeding and culture. There was no place for moral qualms in the eyes of this beautiful, lofty creature, Walton knew. To men of this rare mould, there was only ever the option of acting decisively or accepting defeat.
"Are... are you certain?" Walton said, and was answered by an impatient glance.
Swallowing, he allowed his hand to dip between Victor's hips, stroking the soft, warm skin at his inner thighs, the final point of lymphatic significance. He had now completed his task, and yet, he knew he was not finished.
Victor placed his slender hand on top of Walton's and guided it to take hold of him. He rolled his hips gently into his hand, gazing at him impatiently. Walton was momentarily stunned, but found himself obeying the unspoken order, and moved his shaky hand, gently stroking his flushed skin.
His hand was still wet with brandy, and he vaguely wondered how it felt, and if he was doing enough. He realized this train of thought was strange, but was unable to question himself. Victor softly sighed, his teeth sinking into his lip.
"Walton." He said suddenly, weakly pushing himself onto his elbows. "Look at me."
Walton raised his gaze to meet Victor's dark eyes, and they shared a tense glance. Victor reached out a pale hand, trailing it down his cheek. His cool touch sent a thrill down Walton’s spine. His hand held an aristocratic softness, aside from his lightly calloused thumb and index finger.
"Victor..." Walton began, but his hand glided to his mouth, and his thumb traced his lower lip gently, silencing him.
"Stop talking.” Victor breathed, appearing to study his face as he lightly caressed his neck. Seemingly satisfied, his hand moved downwards, guiding Walton's to move faster and harder, his head tilting back slightly as he continued to gaze at him.
Walton's face burned as he felt himself cooly appraised in such a manner. Somewhere inside himself, he knew he should feel affronted... and yet, such an exhilarating heat burned in his abdomen at the intense desire in Victor's assertive gaze. Victor groaned softly in satisfaction as their hands moved in unison, his hips stuttering in brief, involuntary motions.
Walton cautiously raised his free hand and ran his fingertips gently along Victor's jaw, beginning from the point where he had started. He felt him shiver as he traced the warm, flushed, skin of his neck, and he seemed to lean lightly into the tender touch, his lovely eyes falling softly shut.
Victor’s whole body shuddered, his stomach tightening as he murmured a few shuddering words of praise. Walton felt hot fluid spill into his hand as Victor gasped and twitched, his nails digging into him. His pale face was flush, his dark hair disheveled, and yet he was heartrendingly beautiful.
The soft light cast by the fire played across his features and danced in his dark eyes, giving him the appearance of a fallen celestial being. His lips parted as he panted for breath, and he moved his hand off of Walton's to cup his chin. Victor's slick fingers were gentle, yet his gaze was authoritative.
He slid his glistening thumb lightly along his bottom lip, and Walton felt himself shiver as he pressed lightly, pushing it aside. He inhaled, glancing at Victor's face, yet he parted his lips further, and allowed him to push it slowly into his mouth. He wasn't sure why he complied so easily, but he didn't protest as Victor's skin pressed against his tongue, and he tasted the saltiness of their intimacy, and a bitterness he couldn't place.
Victor slowly pulled his thumb free, and Walton sucked in a sharp breath. His dark eyes regarding him piercingly as he trailed it down Walton's chin. He pulled his hand away and grabbed Walton's again, dragging it slowly, drowsily towards his face.
"You have certainly succeeded in curing something of that feverish ailment..." he said softly, brushing his lips against Walton's knuckles and meeting his eyes. Walton's heart surged in his chest, and he attempted to reply despite his confusion at so many new sensations, and his astonishment at what he had just done.
"Why..." He began waveringly, gathering his remaining powers of speech.
However, the words died on his lips as he saw that Victor had already fallen fast asleep, his head lolling slightly to one side, his lips slightly parted and a slightly feverish blush lingering upon his cheeks. Walton was left regarding his sticky palm in amazement, wondering why he had wanted to do such a thing, had felt compelled to do it, in fact. He had followed orders as meekly as an inexperienced sailor addressed by their captain.
Walton felt as though his body had been set afire, and wished for nothing more than Victor's cool touch to alleviate the tingling want that ached beneath his skin. He stood up in a stupefied silence, but there was nothing to do except smother Victor in blankets once more, and attempt to rest for a few hours himself. He solemnly wiped his hands on a rag, and attempted to clear his mind and conscience of what had occurred. Afterwards, he sat by the stove for some time, trying to recover his composure. However, he knew in his heart that he would sleep little that night.