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"Pray take off your breeches and bend over that locker," said Stephen.
Jack complied a little uneasily; he did not particularly like Stephen's sarcastic mood, and he felt very exposed, lying half-naked under his gimlet eye; he half-regretted having mentioned his frustration and irritability at all. His cock was hanging loose and bumping against the side, and he anxiously tried to cast a glance around to be sure there were no splinters protruding from the patched old sailcloth that covered the locker.
"Lie still, if you please," Stephen said, but nevertheless he slid a cushion beneath Jack's hips that raised him out of danger. Jack resigned himself and settled as comfortably as he could.
Stephen rubbed him thoroughly with oil. The tense frustration built again; though Jack struggled to obey Stephen's admonishments to keep his muscles relaxed, the nozzle would not immediately go in. Stephen lay it aside and applied more oil directly, inserting a finger to coax him open from within.
It was not painful in the least, but a very strange and unaccustomed sensation. Jack was mortified to find himself stiffening, though Stephen paid it no mind, and small gasps continued to escape him as Stephen worked upon him. Stephen put a hand on the small of his back and rubbed gentle circles, putting a second finger inside him, pressing more deeply. Even stranger now; low whimpers tightening his throat; his eyes were watering. He breathed in short sharp pants, his legs trembling with the effort not to move.
Then success: all the tension left him abruptly. He put his head down and spent into a handkerchief Stephen cupped around him, and sighed deeply as his muscles unwound. "Now, lie easy, my dear," Stephen said, and slid the cool nozzle into him.
- End -