Jack squirmed. He writhed. He bucked his hips.

He spread his legs wider.

He begged.

It started before he woke up. Water seemed to figure prominently in his dreams. He was helpless, held tightly but not immobile in a pair of strong arms. He and the other man, and it was another man—he felt very safe supported by a body bigger than his, with a firm, flat chest and belly, and that unmistakable heat responding to his own fire between his legs, were swimming in water that lacked the familiar salty tang of the ocean. No, they were not swimming but rather were floating without having to tread water to keep above the surface.

The water lapped at his skin building a fever within. Rough, soft, fast, slow, it drove him to frenzied heights. He arched his back, his throat exposed as he screamed for more.

When he fell the man caught him, cradling him, soothing his whimpers.

Jack opened his eyes. He had not the foggiest idea of where he was.

"Are you all right?"

Jamie.

Relaxing, he smiled and said, "Water?"

"Would you rather not have rum?"

Turning his eyes to meet the confused green ones staring so intently at him, Jack said, "Eh?"

"Is that not what you prefer? Elizabeth said you were most distraught when she set fire to the rum on that island as a rescue signal."

Chuckling, Jack said, "I dreamed we were in water."

"Ah, the bath."

"Bath? Oh, aye." Memories returned to him. Last night they had shared a most enjoyable bath. And afterward...

"Ye said ye might lick me clean," he reminded his lover. He wondered why he felt so pleasantly lethargic. It was almost as if...

"I just did."

Jack sat up abruptly in bed. James rolled out of the way to avoid being knocked to the floor.

"I was asleep!" Jack complained. "No fair!"

James leaned over and kissed him, leaving a lingering aftertaste of salt and spent seed. Jack smacked his lips.

"Mine?"

"Not mine, certainly."

"Could be. How bendy are ye?"

James tackled him to the mattress.

"Let us find out."

# end

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Read the sequel, One Condition: Oops.