Work Text:
Quint,
This is my first letter of many that I’m sure to be writing you. I would normally start with the usual pleasantries, how my work is at the institute, questions about your work, how you’re healing, if you’ve gotten used to the new leg, but right now I just need to get everything I feel for you down on paper.
I miss you more than I ever new was possible. I don’t know how I’ll continue on here, stuck in the middle of the ocean without you. I hear whales at night and am thrown back into the dinner we shared together when we first felt each others scars. Your hand might as well have burned me and given me another because I’ll never forget your touch. I was more than a little drunk but that memory is and will forever be crystal clear to me.
Did you know that as I felt the mass on top of your head that I was longing to feel your hair as well? To feel it coil around my fingers as I would stroke your head. Or maybe you knew when you held my leg and could see me grow aroused, completely unembarrassed.
I remember when I learned the reason for your life at the time. I was making a fool of myself laughing at the burned flesh on your arm, where your navy tattoo was and you grabbed my arm. Your hand firm on my bicep told me more than words could ever have. You were telling me to quiet down, that I had walked into foreign territory, but that it was alright and you were not angry with me.
As you told Brody and I your worst, most personal memory, I longed for nothing more than to hold you. I understand then who and why you were and I wanted to throw myself overboard for acting the way I did. You sang to us afterward, telling us in your own way that it was ok. And we sang with you, maybe trying to offer some sort of comfort or apology, before that shark hit the side of the boat.
I don’t want to talk about the attack or the aftermath of it. (Should I call it a tradgedy or a victory?) I don’t want to talk about the month spent in the hospital or anything to do with that damn shark actually. So I’m sorry if some things I need to tell you are omitted. Maybe I’ll tell you when we see each other again.
Late last night after my crew had been asleep for hours, I walked to main deck of the station and thought of you. I love your hands. I loved the way they felt holding mine the first day we met, even if I didn’t love what you said as you held them. Your cauloused fingers stroking my soft palms. Do you recall that we’d drag in the barrels together the sides of our hands would touch?
I love your warmth. Even during the chill of the morning hours I could feel heat radiating from your body if I stood close enough. One of my fondest memories of you is when we sat together at the front of The Orca while Brody slept. I know you remember all of this but I hope you’ll be happy to take a trip down memory lane with me. We sat shoulder to should passing a bottle of something brown between us. I felt the heat from your shoulder and was too drunk to help myself so I put my hand on where your half unbuttoned shirt exposed your chest. All I could think to say was, “You’re so warm”. You grinned and chuckled at me in an amused sort of way. “I run hot. Used to drive the wives crazy, couldn’t even share a bed with the last one, not a problem for me!” You laughed loudly at yourself then and my hand was still on your chest. I figured the constant flow of liquor through you probably helped keep you warm too.
I removed my hand then only to reach under you shirt with both hands and rest them on your stomach. You’re hard all over, you’ve done manual labor all your life so of course most of your body is muscular; but then I found something soft. I dug my hands into your stomach like a cat kneading on its mother. “What’re you doing boy?” I faintly heard laughed out from above me but I was too in love with your body to register it. You let me touch every inch of your torso that night. Yet another thing I love about you, how I could touch you without fear. Without the fear of being called a queer or something in that wheelhouse and sent straight back to the island. I should have realized ealier that you were like me.
I love that chipped tooth of yours. I love running my tongue over it’s jagged shape. I love seeing you undone, nothing to fake or unnatural, just you. To see you in your true form is as if I’m seeing something of the divine.
I love the curved line of your cock. I love the lazy way you stroke yourself while you look at me. I love you low your voice gets when we are together and I love the way you speak to me. “Pretty boy, sweet boy, my boy” yes yes yes yes. I’m always in that tiny bedroom in that shack of yours. (I hope you’re not living there anymore). You always held me afterwards, tight and secure as if daring anyone to take me away from you. Little words were passed between us but we knew what the other needed.
I’m sure you’re laughing or at least smiling to yourself as you read this but it’s very late right now and all I can think of is you. I’m coming to visit in a few months. I hope you’ve been able to get along without the constant presence of me hahaha. I have a real pirate lover now; peg leg and all. Maybe I should pick up an eyepatch at the pharmacy on my trip over. Anyways, I hope you’re thinking of me fondly, Captain.
Always yours,
Matt Hooper