
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/465273.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Treasure_Planet_(2002)
  Relationship:
      Jim_Hawkins/John_Silver
  Character:
      Jim_Hawkins, John_Silver
  Additional Tags:
      Community:_disney_kink, First_Time, Hand_Jobs, Mutual_Masturbation
  Series:
      Part 2 of Lodestar
  Stats:
      Published: 2012-07-21 Words: 3830
****** Lodestar ******
by colonel_bastard
Summary
     Jim just wants to get closer. He wants to get as close to Silver as
     he possibly can. He certainly doesn’t want to walk away from him now,
     not after what just passed between them— not after the way Silver
     held him, and he suddenly felt safe, and happy, and loved. He can
     hardly bear the thought of being separated from him after that, even
     for just a few hours.
     On a desperate impulse, he jerks his chin towards the below decks,
     beckoning.
     “Come with me.”
Notes
     Written for a prompt at the spectacular disney_kink, set during the
     scene in the movie when Silver tells Jim that he has greatness in him
     (aka one of the Most Romantic Speeches Ever In Film). Right before he
     goes below deck, Jim looks back with that shy smile. Prompter says:
     What if the smile turns slightly seductive and he invites Silver to
     follow him with a slight head motion? What if Silver takes him up on
     that offer and follows Jim to a more private part of the ship? I
     could not resist.
     Warning for underage since Jim's only fifteen.
See the end of the work for more notes
Just before he goes below deck, Jim stops and looks back. There’s Silver,
watching him go, always watching him, always standing by. When Jim turns, the
cyborg lifts his mechanical hand in a gesture of farewell, his smile fond and
familiar.
But it’s not goodbye. He’ll be there in morning. Jim is starting to get the
feeling that he’ll always be there, and something in his chest aches at the
very thought of it. He’s not sure if he’s ever felt this way about another
person before— wanting to be with him all the time, never apart, even when
they’re just peeling scubbers down in the galley. They’re joined at the hip
virtually every waking moment and it’s still barely enough to satisfy him. Jim
just wants to get closer. He wants to get as close to Silver as he possibly
can. He certainly doesn’t want to walk away from him now, not after what just
passed between them— not after the way Silver held him, and he suddenly felt
safe, and happy, and loved. He can hardly bear the thought of being separated
from him after that, even for just a few hours.
On a desperate impulse, he jerks his chin towards the below decks, beckoning.
“Come with me.”
Silver chuckles and shakes his head.
“I’ve got me watch, lad. I’ll catch me sleep when I’m done.”
“I don’t want to sleep,” Jim says. “I want you to come with me.”
Now the big man’s expression sobers, turning uncertain as his hands come down
on the railing before him and grip tight for balance.
“I can’t do that, Jimbo,” he mutters. “I’ve got to keep me post.”
“Fine,” Hawkins shrugs. “Then I’ll stay with you.”
Eyes narrowing, Silver says nothing in answer, just turns and limps away
towards the stern to continue his patrol. Jim catches up with him at the aft
rail, staring back at the stars they’ve left behind.
“Silver,” he says quietly.
“Away with ye, lad,” the big man waves him off. “There’s no sense in the both
of us losing our rest. Heaven knows I wouldn’t hang about if it was you on the
night watch.”
“But you do,” Jim reminds him. “You always keep me company when I’m stuck out
here.”
Silver winces, caught in a lie. Jim takes the opportunity to come in close, to
lay a hand on his flesh and blood arm, feeling the muscles tense underneath his
touch.
“Silver, I—” he swallows hard. “I just— I wanna be with you.”
Clearing his throat loudly, Silver tosses his head to indicate the riggings
that he knows Jim loves to climb.
“A’right, a’right then,” he says briskly. “Find yerself a perch, only don’t
come crying to me in the morning when ye’re too tuckered out for yer chores.”
Jim’s fingers curl into the heavy material of his jacket sleeve, silently
pleading with him to understand, to take control like he always does, to show
Jim the way.
“That’s not what I meant,” he says, his tone insistent.
“Watch it, boy,” Silver snaps unexpectedly, jerking his arm free. “I ain’t in
the mood for no games.”
Jim withdraws his hand hastily, startled by his vehemence.
“What game?” he splutters. “It’s not a game!”
“Well then if it’s a joke I ain’t laughing.”
Mortified, Jim feels angry tears boiling up in his eyes, furious with Silver
for being so dismissive of him, furious with himself for thinking that he might
actually have a chance to be even happier, to feel even closer. They’d finally
had such a good thing going, too. Now he’s fucked it all up. He just had to
push his luck, he just had to ask for more.
“Fine,” he hisses. “Whatever. If you’re gonna be a jerk about it, I’m gone.”
He’s almost to the edge of the deck when Silver calls weakly, “Steady on,
there!” And when he looks back, he sees an expression on the big man’s face
that he’s never seen before. He looks... completely lost. Maybe even a little
bit scared.
“Was you... being serious just now, Jimbo?” he asks cautiously.
“Uh,” Jim swipes his nose with the back of his hand. “Well, yeah.” He stares
down at the deck, miserable. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know what to do. I
wish you would just—” He bites his tongue. “Forget it.”
Funny to think that the uneven rhythm of a cyborg’s step could ever sound so
comforting to him. Staring at his boots, he can hear Silver approaching slowly,
the distance between them gradually disappearing until they’re practically toe
to toe. Jim doesn’t look up at him, not till Silver takes him by the chin and
tilts his head back so that he’s forced to meet his gaze.
“Aye, ye look sane enough,” the big man murmurs sadly, studying his face. “But
what could a fine young lad like yerself ever want from a mangy old space dog
like me?”
Jim grabs his wrist with both hands, fingers digging in hard.
“Hold me,” he rasps. “I want you to hold me.”
Silver doesn’t hesitate. The moment Jim gives the command he obeys, dragging
the boy into his arms and crushing him fiercely against his body without
another word. Jim is reminded instantly of the supernova, of the way Silver
pinned him against the mast, shielding him from danger with every inch of
himself. There’d been no hesitation then, either— it had been Silver’s first
instinct to guard Jim’s life with his own. The smell of him is overpowering.
Jim grabs fistfuls of his shirt and clings on for dear life.
“What do ye want, Jim?” Silver says hoarsely. “Tell me what ye want.”
“Come with me,” Jim pants, pulling on his collar. “Please come with me.”
Silver nods shakily. “A’right, boy. A’right.”
There’s no one in the galley at this hour of the night, and even if it were day
this is their domain, their private kingdom below the decks. Silver leads them
all the way to the back, hidden from view. Then he pins Jim against the wall
with his good hand, his expression raw, unguarded.
“Are ye sure, Jimbo?”
“Please,” Jim answers. “Silver, please.”
And the hand moves swiftly to the back of his neck, grabbing his hair and
jerking his head back so Silver can cover his lips with his own. He pours his
tongue into Jim’s mouth, inexorable, unleashed, while Jim whimpers and clutches
at the lapels of his jacket, pulling him closer, always closer, never close
enough. He can feel the mechanical fingers winding their way across the small
of his back, drawing him up into the kiss, forcing him to rise onto his toes to
compensate. Yes, he thinks, tighter, hold me tighter.
“Ach, Jimmy boy,” Silver growls against his lips. “What’ve ye done to me? Ye’re
driving me mad.”
Jim trembles, dizzy with desire. He’s harder than he can ever remember being in
his life. Groping blindly down the span of Silver’s belly, he reaches between
his legs and feels that he’s hard, too— and when he touches him there, the big
man moans and jolts his hips toward him, desperate for more. Emboldened, Jim
grinds the heel of his hand against Silver’s groin as hard as he can. Silver
grunts and hisses in savage enjoyment, then moves his good hand down to Jim’s
hard-on and palms it roughly, rubbing him off through the thin cloth of his
trousers. Jim’s skull cracks hard against the bulkhead as he throws back his
head in a surge of pleasure.
“Yes,” he whines. “Ah, God, that’s— nnnh—”
Silver’s breath is hot and heavy against his ear.
“Have ye ever been touched by another?”
“No,” he confesses freely, unashamed. “Just you.”
“Oh, fuck me,” Silver groans. “Ye’re so young, boy. Ye’re so bloody young.”
“Don’t say that,” Jim implores him. “I’m old enough. I’m not a kid.”
“A’course ye aren’t, Jimbo,” the big man soothes. “But don’t be ashamed of yer
youth, neither. ‘Tis a precious thing.” His voice becomes strained. “Why, I
consider it— an honor— to be—”
But he chokes on the words, and has to stop and dash his eyes with his sleeve.
Jim loves him so much it hurts.
“Silver,” he reaches up to his face. “I’m glad it’s you.”
Nuzzling his mouth into the palm of Jim’s hand, Silver sighs.
“I don’t deserve ye, lad. Ye’re too good fer me.”
Jim doesn’t want to wait anymore. He fumbles with his belt, his fly, and shoves
his pants down to his knees to free his aching hard-on. Then he takes Silver by
the wrist and guides him down to take hold.
“Come on,” he says. “I’m ready.”
Tentatively, Silver’s calloused fingertips brush against the younger man’s
erection, almost as if he can’t quite decide if he’s ready for this. Jim bites
his lip against the urge to beg, just holds his breath and closes his eyes
until Silver finally curls his fingers around him and squeezes. Then his breath
judders out of him in a whole-body shiver. Silver sets to pumping him slowly,
his grip carefully restrained, using only a fraction of his full strength. Jim
will have none of it.
“Harder,” he commands, almost immediately.
“I don’t want to hurt ye, Jimbo.”
“You won’t hurt me. I can take it.”
Silver’s grasp tightens marginally. Jim bucks his hips, impatient.
“I’m not made of glass, old man! I’ve jerked off harder in my sleep!”
Now Silver growls in earnest, and when his grip tightens again, it’s so intense
that Jim actually yelps and grabs onto him, snatching blindly at his broad
chest.
“Fuck!” he gasps. “Yeah, like that, please, again!”
“Again, he says, like that’s all there is,” Silver rumbles, amused. “Boy, I’m
just getting started.”
Bringing his hand up to his mouth, he swipes his tongue messily across the
palm, leaving a generous, glistening coat of spit. It’s so fucking sexy that
Jim moans before he even touches him again. Silver’s good eye is hazy and half-
lidded with lust, lust for him, for Jim, and that’s what makes this whole thing
so goddamn unbelievable. Jim wants Silver so badly that he can hardly believe
that Silver wants him in return. He can hardly believe he could ever be that
lucky.
And it must show on his face, because there it is written all over Silver’s,
unmistakable, and they take a second to just stare at each other and drink it
in. Then Silver leans in and kisses him, deep, possessive. In the midst of it
he reaches down and takes Jim in his hand again, swallowing up the ensuing cry
as his next breath. Jim grabs mindlessly at his head, frantic with the desire
to keep kissing him, catching him by his remaining ear and pulling him in for
more. Silver kisses him hungrily, his mechanical fingers digging into Jim’s
back while his flesh hand works him between the legs until he’s keening like a
wild animal, his primal cries stifled by the big man’s mouth.
He almost screams in frustration when Silver halts abruptly, slumping forward
and bracing himself against the wall with his robotic elbow.
“No!” Jim practically shrieks. “Don’t stop! Why’d you stop?”
“Sorry, Jimbo,” Silver pants. “Oof, ye’re killing me, ye really are.”
Jim looks down and sees that the big man is rubbing clumsily at the bulge in
his own trousers, trying to relieve even just a fraction of the pressure so
that he can return his attention to his cabin boy. He’s only got the one good
hand, Jim realizes, and he’d rather use it on Jim than himself.
“Hey,” Jim interjects. “Let me help you with that.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about me, lad,” Silver says hastily, almost embarrassed.
“I can take care of meself.”
Jim takes him by the arm, holds him still to make sure he really listens to
this next bit. This is important.
“I know,” he says. “Now let me take care of you.”
Visibly moved, Silver makes no further protest as Jim pulls open his belt
buckle, unfastens his breeches, and shucks them down low enough to release him.
Before he goes any further he checks the older man’s face for encouragement,
only to see that Silver has his eyes shut tight, almost cringing, as though he
expects Jim to come to his senses and bolt at any second. And Jim thinks
fiercely: no fucking way.
“Okay,” he says loudly. “Lemme see if I got this right.”
Proudly, shamelessly, he swipes his tongue across the palm of his hand and
grabs hold of Silver’s cock with all the force he can muster. It’s a puny echo
of the older man’s considerable strength, but he’d like to think that it’s
enough to get his point across.
And yeah, that seems to do the trick. Silver’s eyes don’t just open, they
almost pop out of his skull, his weight sagging against the arm that he still
has braced against the bulkhead.
“Glory be,” he wheezes. “Ye sure aren’t shy, are ye, lad?”
“Nope,” Jim grins. “Now it’s my turn.”
For all his bravado, it still takes a little work to figure out how to do this.
The only dick he’s ever jerked is his own, and that’s stupidly easy. It’s a lot
trickier when the guy’s facing you, when he’s so much bigger, when you can’t
quite decide if you should go up and down or back and forth. Licking his other
palm, he decides to try a hand over hand motion, almost like he’s pulling in
the sails, starting at the base of Silver’s cock and drawing out towards the
tip, again and again. Silver’s breathing hard, his good hand twining into Jim’s
hair, not saying a word.
“Is this okay?” Jim mumbles, his rhythm faltering. “Am— am I doing okay?”
At once Silver releases a groan so rough and guttural that Jim’s skin breaks
out in gooseflesh.
“It’s fine, lad,” he rasps. “Ye’re doing fine.”
Relieved, invigorated, Jim redoubles his efforts, thrilled at the way Silver’s
voice is reduced to a series of staccato grunts, his huge body tensing and
shuddering, his breath increasingly labored. Jim feels proud of himself, so
fucking proud that he can make Silver feel this way. He wants to make him feel
like this all the time. He wants him to know how much he loves him, even though
he can’t say it out loud just yet.
He’s yanked to a halt when Silver suddenly seizes him by the arms, pinning him
back against the wall.
“Hold on, now,” the big man says raggedly. “Don’t finish me just yet.”
For the second time tonight he brings his hand up to his mouth. Then he spits
into it, and offers it to his cabin boy.
“Gimme some spit, Jimbo.”
Jim works up a mouthful and hawks it into his waiting palm. He’s so woozy with
excitement that he can hardly see straight. He’s dimly aware of Silver reaching
around to the side of his mechanical arm, twisting off a cap— a thin stream of
oil drizzles out and he coats the rest of his hand with it, muttering something
to himself about how he’ll refill it in the morning. Then he shifts his weight
until he’s as close to Jim as he can manage.
“Easy does it,” he murmurs reassuringly.
He gives Jim’s prick a quick once over, too quick, just enough to layer it with
oil. Then he points it up along his belly, and positions his own in the same
fashion. Jim figures out what he’s going to do right before he does it, as he
presses their cocks flush against each other, encircling them both with his
big, powerful hand.
It’s so unbelievably warm. Silver’s cock feels huge and heated against his own,
a feeling made even more intense by the force of the grip squeezing them
together. Not an inch of Jim remains uncovered— what isn’t connected directly
to Silver is cocooned under the broad spread of his hand, the muscles in his
palm twitching against Jim’s most sensitive points. Nothing has ever felt so
good.
“Ah, just look, Jimmy boy,” Silver’s voice is thick with emotion. “We fit
together. We was made to fit together.”
Jim wants that to be true more than anything.
Slowly, deliberately, Silver starts to pump them in tandem. Jim is so worked up
that he almost comes on the spot, but he’s determined to make this last for as
long as he can. He clenches his jaw and holds back, and as each precious second
of willpower ticks away, he struggles to commit every single detail of this
encounter to memory. The smell of Silver, heady and masculine, sweat and
tobacco and the trace of grog on his breath. The sound of him, his jagged
breathing, the muttered curses that occasionally slip from between his gritted
teeth. It’s too much. It’s overwhelming. Jim could almost drown in it.
“Did you mean it?” he whimpers, his throat so constricted that he can barely
form the words. “Do you think— do you really think I’m— special?”
“Ye’re a miracle, lad,” Silver answers roughly, pressing a kiss into Jim’s damp
hair. “I only wish ye could see it like I do.”
That does it. Orgasm comes in an uncontrollable rush, Jim’s whole body twisting
with the force of it, his knees giving out so completely that he would collapse
straight to the floor if he didn’t have the bulkhead to support him. A few
seconds later and Silver comes hard, his cry of release emerging in the form of
Jim’s name. He wrings them together, drawing out every last drop of sensation
as aftershocks leave them twitching and gasping, until finally they’re both too
spent to go even one second further. Even then he seems hesitant to let go, and
when he does withdraw his hand it’s with definite reluctance.
For a moment they just stand there, panting. Then with a heavy sigh, Silver
turns his back to the wall and slumps down to sit on the floor, thoroughly worn
out. Jim sprawls against his side, cushioning himself on the older man’s
generous belly while Silver draws a handkerchief from his pocket and mops his
face.
“Oh, heaven have mercy,” he chuckles weakly, tousling the younger man’s hair.
“Ye’ll be the death of me, Jimbo, make no mistake.”
Jim laughs and squeezes him around the middle, as much of him as he can fit
into his arms.
“You better not quit on me, old man,” he threatens. “I’m not done with you
yet.”
“Ye’re givin’ me orders now, are ye?”
“You bet I am.”
He becomes aware of a golden light falling on him and looks up to see that
cybernetic eye studying him intently. After some consideration, Silver takes
off his hat and plops it down onto Jim’s head— it’s hot and sweaty and Jim
could not be more thrilled.
“Well aye-aye, Captain Hawkins, sir,” the big man murmurs, his arm settling
around Jim’s shoulders. “I’ll stick around for a while, then, if ye’re so keen
on me.”
“Mmm,” Jim says, content.
It’s so cool and quiet and dark in the galley. Under his ear he’s got the
steady, soothing rhythm of Silver’s heart, while the rise and fall of the big
man’s breathing works on him like a cradle. He doesn’t even realize he’s fallen
asleep until Silver is shaking him gently back to waking again.
“Come on, lad,” he says fondly. “A pup like you needs his rest.”
With a tremendous grunt of effort, he clambers to his feet and hauls Jim up
after him. He then gives them both a head-to-toe appraisal and tuts in
disapproval at what he sees.
“What a mess we made. Positively shameful.” He winks, then jerks his head
towards the wash basin. “Let’s get ye cleaned up.”
As he runs water over the cleanest rag he can find, he adds, “Shuck out o’ them
britches, then.”
Yawning, Jim doesn’t even think to protest, just obediently kicks off his boots
and steps out of his trousers, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He
approaches the basin when Silver beckons. He’d sort of assumed that the big man
would just toss him the rag and let him take care of himself, but to his
amazement the mechanical hand claps on to his shoulder and Silver sets to
carefully washing him between the legs. He wipes away the oil coating his groin
and belly, mops up the streaks running down the insides of his thighs while Jim
shivers with delight. It’s over way too quickly. Silver offers him a towel to
dry himself with.
“No,” Jim juts his hips forward impetuously. “You do it.”
Silver’s eyebrows rise up to his bandana, but then his mouth curls into a smile
and he says, “Aye-aye, Captain Hawkins, sir.”
As he stoops to the task, Jim reaches up to wind his arms around him, knitting
his fingers together at the back of his neck and holding on. Silver emits a
deep, resonant rumble of satisfaction, almost like a purr — or maybe it is a
purr, who even knows — and butts his head against Jim’s affectionately. Then he
towels him off as tenderly as as he can manage. The material is scratchy and
uncomfortable, but the touch behind it is so adoring that Jim hardly notices.
He watches Silver’s face and likes what he sees.
“There ye go, lad,” Silver coughs, disentangling himself hastily as soon as
he’s finished. “Now ye’d best get to yer hammock before someone counts heads
and figures ye’re gone.”
Jim tries to move towards him, but the big man turns him and nudges him towards
the door instead, giving him a light swat on the rear to send him on his way.
“Run along, now,” he insists. “I’ve got to swab up and get back to me post or
it’ll be me hide.”
Grudgingly, Jim gathers up his trousers and boots and shuffles off in the
direction of the galley steps, pausing at their base to get dressed again. He’s
just finished pulling on his second boot when he remembers that he has the
perfect excuse to go bounding back, and he gets there just in time to catch
Silver refastening his belt.
“Hey!” he calls. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”
He’s spinning the big man’s hat on his index finger. Silver laughs, then bends
at the waist and inclines his head, waiting for Jim to put it on him. Instead,
Jim grabs him by the ear and kisses him hard on the mouth.
Then he puts the hat on him.
“See ya round,” he smirks. “Old man.”
His heart almost explodes when Silver grabs him forcefully by the shirt and
kisses him back.
“See ya round, then,” he smirks in return. “Jimbo.”
And Jim creeps back through the ship, slips into his hammock, and falls asleep
with the goofiest fucking smile on his face.
 
 
 
 
_____________end.
End Notes
     This fic now has a sequel: Maybe_You'll_Be_Lonesome_Too.
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
