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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:
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:
Regular view: https://coldboys.dreamwidth.org/925.html
Regular view, last page: https://coldboys.dreamwidth.org/925.html?page=999#comments
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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Lashly/Evans, daddy kink
(Anonymous) 2022-10-04 06:31 pm (UTC)(link)FILL: Terra Firma, Lashly/Teddy Evans, E (1/2)
(Anonymous) 2022-11-09 03:39 pm (UTC)(link)Evans’s gums are bleeding freely now, his weak smile tinged with pink as he assures Lashly that he’s fine, that he doesn’t need help, to please leave him and let him die. The days pass as they wait for Crean, and Evans descends further into incoherence. Lashly doesn’t think for a moment that Tom might not have made it—he knows Tom and so he believes in Tom more than anyone else on the expedition—so he keeps a detailed record of Evans’s health and spends his hours caring for him as the man mumbles and moans in pain. He washes him, combs his hair, feeds him—but now the spoon hurts his teeth and Lashly has no other choice.
He scoops the warm hoosh onto his first two fingers, transporting it carefully over to where Evans lies helplessly in his sleeping bag. He rouses Evans, telling him he has to eat, and presses the food into his open mouth.
Evans’s mouth is hot and wet. His tongue seeks out the space between Lashly’s fingers, licking the taste of pemmican from his skin. When Lashly withdraws his fingers, they are slick with saliva and blood.
He does it again.
He feeds Evans this way, allowing him ample time to swallow around his fingers. Despite himself, he finds his fingers linger longer, brushing over the rough flatness of Evans’s tongue and stroking his swollen gums. When Lashly makes to remove his fingers, one of Evans’s hands claws its way out of his bag, grasping at Lashly’s wrist.
“Please,” he whimpers. His hold is weak but his need is strong, and Lashly lets him suck his fingers back into his mouth. Evans moans quietly around them. “Daddy,” he groans, words garbled around the intrusion of Lashly’s fingers but unmistakeable all the same. Evans’s tongue laps at the base of Lashly’s fingers, having taken them all the way into his mouth. He looks, for the first time in days, at peace. Lashly refuses to take this comfort away. He lets Evans suckle at his fingers until he finally releases them, head falling back as he slips, once again, into unconsciousness.
It’s lucky he’s half-dead, Lashly thinks before he turns on his side and takes himself in hand with his fingers still wet from Evans’s mouth and his ears still ringing with his broken mewl of Daddy .
Lashly arrives at Mr. Evans’s hotel in Cardiff uninvited and unannounced. It’s terribly rude of him; Lashly would never have considered such a thing if not at the urging of both Tom Crean and Mr. Cherry-Garrard. Mr. Evans’s situation must be dire if Mr. Garrard was concerned; his dislike of Commander Evans, while pale in comparison to certain other members of the Cambridge expedition veterans, was clear, even to the men of the lower decks.
Lashly is greeted warmly by one of the hotel maids.
“I’m so glad you’ve come, sir,” she says. Her square jaw and Welsh accent remind him too much of Taff and he feels, for a moment, like turning around and leaving. “He’s stopped eating, won’t leave his room. We just hear the typewriter going day and night. The other girls and me, we don’t know what to do.” She leads him through the hall passage to the carpeted stairs. “It’s sad news about his wife, sir,” she continues. “To be away for so long and then for her to pass so quickly afterwards, it must have broken his poor heart! It’s no wonder he’s locked himself away.”
“He’ll speak with me,” Lashly says, more confidently than he feels. Who is he, really, to Commander Evans? A companion by circumstance, a nurse by necessity. The man who fucked him in the captain’s berth on the Terra Nova on the journey back to Lyttleton. The man who said his firm goodbyes to Commander and Mrs. Evans, silently asking for forgiveness through the kiss pressed to the back of her hand while Evans watched him with something akin to sadness in the pout of his lips.
But here he is. The only one who could come; perhaps the only one who would come. He knocks on the door.
“Did you bring coffee this time?” Evans’s voice calls through the door. It sounds low, rough.
“I’ll ask for some later, Sir,” Lashly calls back. “It’s Lashly,” he adds after a moment’s pause. Another silent moment, and then the padding of slippers on the carpet and the jingle of the chain being unlatched.
“Lashly!” Evans throws open the door and announces his name with false cheer. “What a lovely surprise!” He smells like stale smoke and bitter coffee, both vices that he has obviously been using to stay awake: his bloodshot eyes are ringed with pink, flaking skin, the only colour on his pallid face. He runs a self-conscious hand over his unshaven face, aware for the first time in many days, it seems, of his unkempt appearance.
“May I come in?” Lashly asks. Another impolite thing, to invite oneself in, but he has saved Teddy Evans’s life once, and he is going to do it again.
“It’s lovely to see you, really, but I have so much to do—expedition papers, organizing—you know how it is! The whole narrative, minus the Owner’s diaries, of course—Mrs. Scott has control over those, but everything else is up to me, you see, and—“
Lashly takes drastic action and shoulders his way bodily past Evans and into the room. “Close the door, Sir,” he says. Evans shuts the door. “We’re worried about your health, Mr. Evans.”
“Who’s ‘we’?” he asks. He leans back against the door. “Certainly not Silas?”
Silas Wright’s addition to Mr. Cherry-Garrard’s letter read don’t bother—maybe he’ll do us all a favour and drown himself in the bay but Lashly figures Mr. Evans doesn’t need to know the particulars.
“Crean, Mr. Cherry, Doctor Atkinson. Me. We’ve all had a hard time, sir, but—“
“I have lots of work to keep me occupied! It’s helping, really. It’s best to hop back on the horse and ride forward, don’t you think?”
Lashly presses forward, closing Evans’s body in against the door. They’re standing toe-to-toe now, and when Lashly raises a hand Evans responds with a natural impulse Lashly has become privy to: he pushes his face into Lashly’s palm like a cat.
“Is this why you’re here?” Evans asks quietly. He looks so tired.
“I’m here to help.” Evans closes his eyes and rubs his stubbled cheek against the palm of Lashly’s hand.
“Take me to bed,” he whispers, deflated, and Lashly draws him closer before leading him towards the unmade bed in the centre of the room.
FILL: Terra Firma, Lashly/Teddy Evans, E (2/2)
(Anonymous) 2022-11-09 03:44 pm (UTC)(link)“I really loved her,” he had told him. “So many people saw her as frail—delicate, like a doll—but after we were married, you know what we did? We packed up a tent and we explored the New Zealand bush. She walks—walked—very fast for such a short lady! She had this energy about her, and when we were together it felt like standing on the surface of the sun.”
“And now?” Lashly had asked.
“Now it feels like I’m falling, and I don’t know where or how I’m going to land.”
In the hours between Evans rolling on to his back and starting to snore and the time he wakes up, Lashly had taken the assortment of dirty coffee mugs and half-eaten biscuits down to the kitchen, aired out the room, and requested dinner and a basin of hot water be brought up to the room. The commotion at the door wakes Evans, and he blinks wearily at the sunset out the closest window.
“Supper,” Lashly nods down at the serving platter in his hands.
“I miss your cooking,” Evans says.
“Come visit in Portsmouth and I’ll make you as much steak and kidney pie as you can eat.”
“My favourite.”
“I know, Sir.”
Evans eats and lets Lashly shave him and then they are back in bed, under the blankets.
“You’re looking healthier already, Sir,” Lashly says. He thumbs away a small fleck of soap that he had missed with the towel.
“Really, Lashly, you must call me Teddy.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Sir. It doesn’t feel right.”
Evans chuckles. “No, I suppose you wouldn’t be our Lashly without an insufferable adherence to politeness.” Lashly bows his head in acceptance. “Well, what about you? I’ve not heard anyone call you anything but ‘Lashly’ or ‘Lash’.”
“Taff called me Bill.”
“I’m sorry. I’ve been so consumed by my own grief that I forget you’re mourning a friend.”
Lashly nods. Losing Taff is a deep cut to his heart, but like all wounds, it will heal and harden into a scar. Taff Evans will become another story, another memory.
Another memory rises, unbidden, of Mr. Evans on the Barrier.
“You’ve called me something different, Sir. Out on the Barrier. I believe you thought I was your father.”
“My father? Goodness, I hope not! What did I say?”
“You called me ‘Daddy’.”
Evans’s reaction is not one Lashly expected, but it is one he hoped for: he flushes and says, “Ah, I see,” before falling silent.
“Not your father, then?” Lashly risks a smile.
“I remember that,” Evans says with a grimace. “I thought it was a dream. I remember being glad the sickness prevented my body from responding to the terrible thoughts in my mind when I had your fingers in my mouth.”
“Terrible thoughts, Sir? I’ve never known you to have a terrible thought.”
“Well, it certainly seems less scandalous now that I’ve done the deed, but I desperately wanted it to be your cock in my mouth instead.”
There’s a fiery twist deep in the pit of his stomach that Lashly is helpless to ignore. He rolls over, pinning Evans underneath him.
“Do you want to call me Daddy, Mr. Evans?”
Evans smiles coquettishly and wraps his arms around Lashly’s neck. “How could I not when you take such good care of me, Daddy,” he says with a wink, and Lashly feels his cock stiffen. “Will you look after me? Give me a good seeing-to? Daddy always knows exactly what I need.” Lashly loses all sense of resolve and hoists Evans’s legs up around his shoulders, rubbing the head of his prick against Evans’s entrance, still slick and stretched from earlier.
“I’ll take good care of you,” Lashly promises. Evans wiggles his hips, rubbing the head of Lashly’s cock against the slickness of his hole. Lashly groans. “You’re a little tease, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Daddy,” Evans smiles. He shifts again, tilting his hips so that Lashly’s cock is nudging against his balls.
“Let me fill you up again, sweetheart. I’ll give you what you need,” Lashly says. He’s ready to beg for the tight heat of Evans’s arse around his aching cock, but before he can Evans arches up and pushes himself onto Lashly’s cock. Lashly takes it as the invitation it is. He fucks him hard and fast, until Evans falls back against the pillows and can’t do anything but take it—take him¬—all the way to the root and moan Daddy as he smiles and clings to Lashly’s back.
“I want your fingers,” Evans breathes, and Lashly slides two thick fingers into Evans’s wide mouth. “Thank you,” he mumbles around them, eyes half-lidded, and starts to suck. It feels better than it did on the Barrier—Evans isn’t dying, for one, and he’s clenching tight around his cock and working his tongue around the length of each finger in his mouth. It doesn’t take long for Lashly’s climax to catch him by surprise. He doesn’t pull out in time—he can’t with the way Evans’s legs are wrapped so tightly around his back Lashly can barely pull out enough to thrust, but Evans seems content to grind against Lashly’s hips with his cock buried deep. He grunts quietly when he comes; Evans doesn’t seem to notice until Lashly pulls his fingers out of his mouth. “Did you—“ he reaches between his legs to where his rim is stretched around Lashly’s cock.
“I’m sorry, s—“
“You always know what I need,” Evans interrupts, and pulls Lashly down to press a chaste kiss to his lips. Lashly’s cock slips out of him and rubs against Evans’s dripping prick.
“Yes,” Lashly breathes with relief. “I’ll take care of you. Let Daddy take care of you.”
Evans hums with delight, and Lashly carefully descends on him, taking the head of his cock into his mouth. Evans bucks up into his mouth, and Lashly presses two fingers inside him, feeling out the gape of his hole and the stickiness of his spend inside him. Evans, who had been uncharacteristically quiet while Lashly was fucking him, finds his voice:
“Yeah, fuck me on your thick fingers, Daddy. I bet I could fit your whole hand inside me—keep me in your bed and stretch me out until I can take your fist—I’ll be such a good boy for you, I promise.”
Good God, Lashly thinks. There’s an idea. But he leaves his fingers as they are, thrusting in and out of Evans’s arsehole and takes his cock deeper in his mouth.
“Your mouth feels so good—I want your tongue inside me—I want you to take my come and spit it back in my mouth.” Lashly chokes—not on the cock in his mouth but on the filth of Evans’s words (truly, gentlemen are the most mystifying group of people Lashly has ever met, and Commander Edward Evans is the worst of the bunch).
And then Evans is spurting thick and hot and salty into Lashly’s mouth, and before he loses confidence he has Evans pinned to the bed and he’s tonguing Evans’s come into his mouth. Evans rocks against him, chasing the aftermath of his orgasm. He licks his own essence from Lashly’s mouth, making the most pathetic little whimpers as he does so. Lashly opens his mouth to him and lifts a hand to cradle the back of his head. He’s struck with the overwhelming urge to care for him: to wash to his hair, to make sure he is fed, to hold him through the night.
“Come here,” Evans says, finally pulling away. He pulls Lashly down on top of him like a heavy, man-sized blanket.
“I’ll squash you.”
“Good.” They lie together, catching their breath, for a long, quiet moment until Evans says, “You’re the best man I’ve ever known.”
“I care about you, Sir.”
“You’re far too modest, Lashly. And please, just once, call me Teddy.”
“I care about you, Teddy.” Lashly pauses. “I’m afraid I can’t do it, Sir. It doesn’t sound right.”
“No, I suppose it doesn’t. It was nice when you called me ‘sweetheart’, though. Very ‘Daddy’ of you.”
Lashly laughs and rolls to Evans’s side. He opens his arms. “Come here, sweetheart. Let me hold you for a while, then I’ll call down and arrange a nice bath for you.”
Evans stretches and rolls into Lashly’s arms. “Will you always show up when I need you?”
Lashly presses a kiss to the crown of Evan’s head. “Yes,” he answers.
“Will you be in Cardiff long?”
Lashly nods. “I’ve been shipkeeper of the Terra Nova these past weeks.”
“I didn’t know that,” Evans says. “These last months have been…” He trails off, and Lashly holds him tighter.
“I’m here for you, Sir.”
“Will you lecture with me? I’m due to present at the Cardiff Naturalists Club at the end of the month, and I would like it if you—and Crean, of course—were with me. My story means nothing without the two of you. I owe you my life, and I don’t want anyone to forget that you and Crean are heroes.”
“I don’t look like much of a hero,” Lashly says bashfully.
“You’re my hero.”
“I believe it’s the post-orgasmic haze that is making you speak such nonsense.”
“Almost definitely,” Evans says with a wide smile.
Two weeks later at the Cardiff Naturalists Club, Commander Evans stands in front of a packed room. Tom Crean stands next to the screen where the lantern slides will be projected while Lashly lingers by the projector. As the opening applause dies down, Evans holds his hands up for silence.
“I owe my life,” he begins, the audience rapt, “to Lashly’s devotion.” He beckons at Lashly to come stand beside him. Lashly shakes his head, but he’s smiling when he crosses the room to stand at Evans’s side, right where he belongs.
Re: FILL: Terra Firma, Lashly/Teddy Evans, E (2/2)
(Anonymous) 2022-11-09 06:32 pm (UTC)(link)When life gives you disaster after disaster you deserve someone to stuff you full and take care of you. Good for them!
Re: FILL: Terra Firma, Lashly/Teddy Evans, E (2/2)
(Anonymous) 2022-11-10 12:06 am (UTC)(link)