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Cold Boys Kink Meme ([personal profile] coldboys) wrote2026-09-28 01:56 pm
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Polar Explorer RPF - Prompt Post 1

This is for prompts for all things general Polar Explorer RPF.

If you've filled (or started filling) a prompt, please make sure to link it in the comments of the Fills Post. And if you would like to cross-post your fills on AO3, here is the collection!

Under this umbrella you can prompt: 
  • Historical versions of Franklin Expedition(-adjacent) guys (Rossier, Gore/McClure, etc)
  • Madhouse at the End of the Earth/Belgica Expedition
  • Heroic Age of Antarctic Exploration - Shackleton, Scott, Amundsen, Mawson
  • Andrée Expedition
  • Karluk Expedition
  • etc

Prompts in line with adaptations of Heroic Age stories can also fit here, for example if you want to specifically prompt Hugh Grant!Cherry from The Last Place On Earth getting wrecked (which someone really should). 

No blorbo too obscure for this post! EXCEPT: NO PEARY ALLOWED. God I hate that guy.



Rules: 

1. Be fucking nice. YKINMATO/KINKTOMATO at all times.
 
2. This meme is CNTW (Choose Not To Warn) but warnings are highly encouraged.
 
3. Prompts should use this format in the subject line: [SHIP], [DESCRIPTION]
e.g.
Mertz/Ninnis, sex crying
 
Solo gen can be prompted as well alongside (a) character name and description
e.g.
Gen, Emil Racovitza, discovering a crazy new fish
 
4. Fills should use this format in the subject line: FILL: [TITLE], [PAIRING], [RATING], [ANY WARNINGS]
e.g.
Fill: The Very Next Day, Cherry/Birdie, E, cw self-harm
 
5. One prompt per comment please. 
 
6. Multiple fills for each prompt are welcome! 
 
7. You don't have to be anon for your prompts or your fills but we do encourage it because of the vibe. You're also welcome to deanon your stuff by posting on AO3/Tumblr as you please! 
 
8. Feedback on prompts and fills is AWESOME; please take longer conversations to the discussion post.


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FILL: "Where No One Would Believe that Someone Could F..." Cook/Amundsen, E, slowburn, Part 7/?

(Anonymous) 2023-01-18 03:53 am (UTC)(link)

I wrote too much smut and I'm going to have to split it up because of the character count limit so...here goes!

Fucking hell. As the cold air outside slapped him in the face, Fred felt a rush of guilt. He couldn’t believe that he’d dragged up their past like that, out of nowhere. After Roald had taken him in, after three years of no contact, when no one else would. After Roald was prepared to shelter him from the feds (and probably at this point, Interpol too) and put himself at risk in the process. Why couldn’t he rewind to this morning, when they’d been spooned together on top of a bed of animal skins, and then Roald had slipped out to make him fucking pancakes? They could have talked calmly, and Fred could have explained why Roald’s characteristic tight-lipped-ness had hurt him so much. He could have said what he’d failed to say back in Brooklyn. And then maybe they could begin to figure things out. It wasn’t like they had a ton of more pressing things to do out here in the woods.

Fred angrily stomped through the outer door of the sauna and began to remove his boots and hang up his coat. Roald had been right, it was nice and warm even in this outer room, and having a sponge bath with a bucket suddenly didn’t seem like such a bad prospect. Especially now. Fred stripped and placed his clothes on one of the benches, then dunked the smaller towel into the bucket of melted snow, now pleasantly lukewarm, and began to clean himself with single-minded intensity. He lathered up with the bar of soap (pine and cedar scented, very nice), and then dunked the towel again and scrubbed away the soap, taking special care around his... oh, what was the point? Roald had made it very clear he was going to let him have his privacy in here, even before they fought. You’re the guest... He cupped his hands and scooped some water over his hair and onto his face, pouting a little as the droplets ran down his beard and neck and shoulders. Fred grabbed the larger towel and tied it around his waist – he could just as easily sit naked on the towel instead, he knew, but his American habits of propriety died hard, even when he was the only person around. He then took his bundles of birch twigs and his water bottle and opened the door to the main part of the sauna.

The most wonderful wall of dry heat greeted him, enveloping him. He breathed deeply, and instantly felt a bit better. So this is why Scandinavians are so into this. He closed the door behind him and sat on one of the benches, stretching his limbs. It was nothing like the steamroom at Equinox, with water pooling in weird places and people constantly banging the door open and closed, the threat of picking up some skin fungus ever present. It was just relaxing and nice. The scent of the birch leaves was already beginning to permeate the air. He glanced at the thermometer on the wall, which was in Celsius and so told him nothing, but it very hot. He took a swig from the water bottle. Experimentally, Fred then stretched his neck one way and then another, and let himself take another deep breath.

He glanced over to the opposite corner of the room and saw Roald’s ax, propped up under the bench and still covered with a layer of mineral oil, and thought back to the morning. When Fred was done, he should go back and apologize to Roald. Tell him he wanted to start over, that he cared for him and just wanted to hear Roald say he cared for him too. Roald who was not effusive with his words, but who had snuggled with him in tents in Patagonia and taught him how to use a sextant in the Pacific. Roald, who had let Fred stitch up his hands after cutting himself on a coral reef, even as Roald tried stoically to insist that he didn’t need stitches and the antiseptic solution definitely didn’t sting. Roald, who had saved his life from a polar bear. He wanted to go back to when it was just the two of them, cuddling and kissing and talking about explorers who fell down crevasses or ate their comrades or who died from snacking on husky livers. He glanced down at his lap, covered with the fluffy white towel, and saw that his body confirmed his thoughts. Yup, he wanted that alright. And everything else he and Roald had done after they’d had enough cannibal talk for one night.

He decided to try the steam thing Roald had mentioned. He took the ladle in the wooden bucket and scooped some water, then gingerly held it over the rocks and tipped it. As he did, the small room filled with a hissing noise and the air began to cloud with steam. Ah, this was nice too. He did it again, and then a third time, then leaned his head back against the wall of the sauna and closed his eyes, enjoying being cocooned in the birch-scented fog.

Something was making a creaking noise underneath the hissing of the water on the rocks. Was something wrong with the stove? He opened his eyes, and as the steam began to dissipate...

“Oh, Roald!” He started, sitting up straight. “Do you – I’m almost done – should I leave – do you want to...?”

Roald Engelbregt Gravning Amundsen stood in front of him, all broad shoulders and confident bearing and taut muscles, steam rising off of his fair skin. He was completely bare save his own towel tied around his waist. Sitting on the bench, Fred was roughly eye level with the trail of pale hair that that ran down Roald’s stomach and disappeared under the towel. Fred only barely resisted the urge to lick his lips. Then without saying a word, Roald bent at the waist, his tall frame filling Fred’s field of vision, took Fred’s jaw in his right hand, and kissed him so hard Fred felt his ears ring. For one brief moment, his mind went blank. Then he leaned into it, kissing Roald back, hard, and he was pushing off of the bench and grabbing Roald’s waist with one hand and the back of his neck with the other. Roald moaned and forced his tongue into Fred’s mouth and Fred was leaning up on his toes to meet Roald, and it was wet and sloppy and they were knocking teeth and bumping noses and it was perfect.

“Roald,” Fred breathed out between kisses.

“You said I could be selfish,” Roald hissed back, his hands pressing bruises into the tops of Fred’s hips. “You said I was single-minded.”

“Roald, I...”

“You’re right,” Roald said, between hard kiss after hard kiss. “I can be single-minded when it comes to you. I can be selfish. Maybe I should be even more selfish.”

Oh, Fred’s body could definitely get on board with that sentiment. Roald wasn’t much of a talker, but maybe that only meant he chose his words with extra care. Fred pressed himself hard against Roald, feeling the sweat beginning to form on Roald’s skin against his own, the lovely muscled planes of Roald’s chest and stomach and his sturdy arms. His own arm that was wrapped around Roald’s back and up to his neck was sticky, and he could feel that Roald was already half hard under his towel. Good, Fred thought as he grabbed Roald’s back even tighter and ground up against him as he kissed him again, forcing another moan out of Roald’s mouth. If I’m going to suffer here you have to too.

With one hand still on Fred’s hip, Roald used the other to reach for the edge of Fred’s towel, about to tug on it. “No,” Fred said sternly, and swatted Roald’s hand away. He pulled his body away by several inches. “Get your hands away. Not yet.” As long as he didn’t pass out from want and the heat, Fred wanted to draw this out.

“Not yet?” Roald huffed impatiently, reaching for the towel again. Fred smacked his hand away, harder this time.

“Not unless you’re, I don’t know, about to show me the proper survivalist’s technique for removing a towel, Roald Amundsen,” Fred ground out, teasing and enunciating each syllable in his name as if offering a challenge.

Roald’s eyes gleamed, sweat glistening on his high cheekbones and the sharp angles of his jaw, and then he surged forward until he had pushed Fred’s legs back against the edge of the bench, nudging him just enough that he fell backwards onto the seat. The hands that had been on Fred’s hip and at his waist now shot out to pin both of his wrists to the bench. Roald leaned over and began kissing Fred again, hard, and Fred could taste the salt of Roald’s skin, the sweat that trickled down his face. “Giving me directions,” Roald breathed out. “So mouthy.”

“You like it when I’m mouthy,” Fred bit back, and then captured Roald’s lower lip between his teeth, tugging just a bit. Roald actually growled, and Fred squirmed under the towel in spite of himself, trying to get some friction where he most wanted it.

“I like you all ways, Fred,” Roald panted out. He grinned then, baring that fucking gold tooth, and without breaking his grip on Fred’s wrists sunk. to. his. knees. in between Fred’s legs, using his own upper body to nudge them further apart. Roald’s shoulders were glistening now, and his skin was flushed pink everywhere from the heat and the lingering steam. His knees hit the floor, and then he positioned his mouth at the edge of the towel and began to tug. “Fuck,” Fred bit out as Roald attempted to pull it off of him. “I said not yet.” He struggled, fruitlessly (and only half-heartedly, really) against Roald’s grip.

“You said no hands.” His ex grinned up at him from the floor, flashing that damn tooth. He hadn’t managed to fully tug open the knot Fred had made at his waist, but he’d pulled on the towel enough that it fell looser, halfway open around Fred’s legs, parted enough to bare his cock to Roald, hard and flushed and leaking. Fred moved his thighs even further apart on instinct. If he had had a free hand, Fred would have leaned over to smack Roald’s smirking, arrogant face – Roald would have liked it too – but instead Fred said, “Your fucking gold tooth. It drives me crazy when you smile like that, did you know that? How come one of your teeth can make me hard?”

Roald shrugged with feigned nonchalance. “How would I know? You’re the doctor,” and then before Fred could offer some biting response, Roald was leaning forward and his hot mouth was on Fred’s cock. Fred felt his head hit the back wall of the sauna as his eyes slipped shut, feeling the heat of the room and Roald’s perfect wet mouth sliding down his length and his hands moving to press down on Fred’s sticky, sweat-covered thighs. Roald slid his mouth down slowly, taking almost all of Fred in before pulling back, his lips wrapped tight and the flat of his tongue pressed to the underside of Fred’s length. Fred groaned as his now-free hands gripped Roald’s shoulders and his nails dug into Roald’s skin, hard enough to leave marks. Through the delicious haze of his own pleasure Fred heard Roald let out a low moan at Fred’s bruising grip, and Fred felt himself, impossibly, grow even harder. It was so good, the heat of the sauna and the heat of Roald’s mouth on him and the obscene, wet sounds that mouth made as it sucked him. Fred allowed himself to lean into it, his hips rocking slightly to fuck back into Roald’s mouth. He opened his eyes halfway and immediately felt dizzy, gazing at Roald’s beautiful angular face, flushed and only partly visible between Fred’s thighs.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Fred sighed. He let one hand wander to stroke over Roald’s hair. “Just like that. You’re so good, Roald.” Roald made an “mmm” sound from the back of his throat that had Fred squirming, and then Fred’s hands were back on Roald’s shoulders, scratching deep marks into them. Roald lost his rhythm then, gasped and choked a little, and Fred couldn’t help but grin. “Ah, so you still like that?” He scratched again, his hands stretching further down Roald’s back. His beautiful, sensitive ex-boyfriend stopped and pulled off of him then, and Fred would have complained but he was enjoying this rediscovery too much. “Don’t make me pin your hands again, Fred,” Roald said, his eyes glinting, before wrapping his lips around Fred’s cock once more. Fred sighed and leaned back again, watching Roald suck him and listening to the little murmuring noises that escaped his mouth and feeling achingly tender towards him and turned on out of his mind. It was so good, and he’d missed this so much, that he almost didn’t want to ruin the moment by seeing if Roald was still sensitive in other places.

Almost.

Eyes still half closed in pleasure, Fred stuck his left thumb and forefinger in his mouth, just down to the first knuckles, and then reached forward and used them to rub one of Roald’s nipples. He immediately squirmed and sucked in a breath, stopping with his mouth halfway down Fred’s shaft. “Fred,” Roald gasped and pulled off of Fred’s cock. He squeezed his eyes shut as Fred continued to rub with both digits, and then switched to the other nipple. “Fred.”

“I love seeing you like this,” Fred breathed out. “You’re so sensitive.”

“Fred.”

Fuck, Fred could come just watching Roald like this and hearing him say his name like that. With his free hand he scrabbled at the knot holding the towel around his own waist and managed to unfasten it. He began to stroke himself, slowly, his cock still wet from Roald’s mouth.

“Fred,” Roald moaned softly, watching from his position on his knees. “Fred, get over here.” He hooked his hands behind Fred’s knees, pulling him forward, until he was halfway off of the bench. Fred’s hands slid away from his cock and Roald’s chest to brace himself. Roald pressed kisses to the inside of Fred’s thighs, first one and then the other, and then nuzzled his lovely nose to the spot where Fred’s right thigh met the base of his cock. “Darling Fred. I’m selfish and I want more of you.”

“Christ, fuck, yes,” Fred said, and before he had the words completely out Roald was mouthing at his balls. Fred groaned, grabbing the back of Roald’s neck, and Fred thought he might explode. Then Roald’s head was moving lower and oh fuck Roald was pulling Fred even closer and tipping his thighs up to hook over Roald’s shoulders, and then Roald’s clever mouth was on him again, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses to his entrance.

Fred panted and swore and grabbed the edge of the bench, knuckles white, as Roald worked at him, alternating his lips with a few, tiny exploratory swipes of his tongue that had Fred feeling like he might faint. Maybe they shouldn’t be doing this in a room that was heated almost to the limit of human tolerance, but it was too late to switch tacks now. Roald placed one more wet kiss, then pulled back a few inches. From his perch on the floor he looked up then and raised one blonde eyebrow at Fred, the question genuine and sincere. “Yes,” Fred panted in response. “I want whatever you want.” And then, proud of himself for remembering the Norwegian word at this moment, he added “Grønn.”

Roald laughed a tiny bit at that and then dove back in, pressing his tongue insistently against Fred’s hole, teasing the tight furl of muscle and slipping his tongue inside, moving it back and forth. Fred swore and ran a hand through his sweat-soaked hair and tried not to squirm, feeling his cock jerk and begin to leak. He could come just like this, he thought, he could stroke himself a few times and that would be all it would take, maybe not even that much...

“Roald,” he moaned. “Roald, if you don’t stop that I’m going to...”

Roald pulled his face back just a touch, his breath still hot on Fred’s skin. His pale blue eyes were dancing. “Don’t you want to?” he asked altogether too sweetly.

“God yes, you know I do. But I want you to fuck me.”

To be continued...

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