The Pirate King Ch. 01

He watched me listen to him, his lips parted, his brow creased. I watched him back and silently begged him to pull me all the way in, each step another glowing pleasure wave crashing through my body starting at my wrists and ending up in places I didn't know what to do with.

He stopped pulling me when I was too far away, not close enough to touch. "I think," he said, almost evenly, "that we had better keep these on." He held up the lines. His hands had not stopped trembling. "For security reasons."

I nodded mutely. He pulled me in another step and I gasped.

"Security," he repeated, and then he was off into the hallways and I was pulled behind him.

I ached that we weren't going to be alone anymore, that we were going to be sharing space with others. He was going to take me to a cell, and we would be done, and then he would drop me off on some deserted island and I would die.

I was in such despair that I didn't notice, at first, that we were not going down. Galleys are always down; you don't keep prisoners in the nice part of the ship. And we were headed into the seriously nice part of the ship.

He pushed open and door. "You first." I walked in and blinked. This was no cell.

"Easier to sleep and know you're not escaping if I lock you in with me." The Captain followed me into his quarters and locked the door behind us. I heard the lock click and felt my breath catch.

He turned to me, slowly. There was a beat, and then he grabbed my face and we were kissing. His hand traveled down my neck, over my shirt, then it was under my shirt and I was gasping and biting and kissing him back and I wanted to touch him too, wanted to feel his skin against mine but his other hand held the two ropes, kept my hands behind my back, kept pulling. I stumbled back a step at the pressure, then another. He backed me up against the far wall, tugging at me with one hand and pushing at me with the other until my back hit the rough boards beside the bed. He stopped there for a moment, panting, looking me over. Then he smiled, kissed me again, and walked away. I tried to follow and found that he'd tied my hands to the bedpost while I wasn't paying attention. A wave of frustration mixed with pleasure washed over me as I hit the end of my tether, feeling the wash of denial that I was becoming all too familiar with.

He watched me from the end of the bed, smiling slightly. It made me want him, made me want him even worse. I crumpled down to my knees.

"Please, sir," I told him, my voice so low, so hoarse, "this is torture."

The smile disappeared from his face so quickly it might not have been there at all. "I'm sorry," he said. "I'll stop." He moved forward.

"No!" I quickly said. He stopped dead where he was, hand outstretched, halfway towards me. "I don't... I didn't mean..."

He sat down on the bed. His eyes were searching, always searching. "Do you want me to stop?"

"I don't know," I told him truthfully. "I've never done anything like this before."

He closed his eyes and nodded. "I need to remember that," he murmured, and I'm not sure that he was talking to me. "It's just so hard when you're so." He waved a hand towards me. "You know?"

I didn't know.

He saw my confusion and came close, sat right next to me on the bed. He pushed his hands into my hair and put his mouth to my ear. "You make me want to do things to you," he whispered, and the intensity of it made me try to pull away but he had me by the hair, he held me tight, "that I haven't done with anyone in a long time. I want to do those things. I want to do those things bad." He bit my ear, and I let loose a noise that I had never made before, a mixture between a moan and a yelp and a gasp. "You make these noises, see? And these faces, and I -"

I pushed my lips to his and let me kiss him. When he pulled me away, we were both panting. I could feel him watching me, feel his eyes take in the lines of my chin, the length of my neck, and I leaned my head back against his shoulder and gave these things to him, offered them up. I heard him suck in his breath, felt his hand tighten on my head. He turned and rested his lips on my cheek, his breath shuddering. "Oh, the things I could do to you," I heard him mutter, and it sent waves of excitement through my soul. Instead of doing anything, he pulled away. "But I can only do those things if you want to." He took a breath and said it again, gentler. "I will only do those things if you want to. Okay?"

He backed off then, gave me space, but I didn't want space. "I want you."

He frowned. "That's not really what I asked."

"Please, sir," I said, and the way his body reacted to those two words sent waves of pleasure through my very core, "I want you."

He stayed where he was, his eyes closed. Stayed that way for a good while. "Okay," he finally said. "Okay." He opened his eyes and came closer to me. "But you can say stop at any time."

"Okay," I repeated.

"And I'm going to leave you tied up." His eyes were wide. "For security reasons."

"Okay," I said again, a little less evenly, and pretended that my body wasn't on fire.

"Are you secure," he asked my neck, and I nodded.

"Good. Stand up."

I stood up. He didn't. For the second time tonight, I found myself tied with the Captain's face inches from my the most sensitive parts of my body.

He traced the outline of the bulge with fingers that set my world ablaze. I wrapped my hands around the rope and gasped, trying to steady myself. He moved his fingers to my waistband, reaching around to find the laces. In doing so, he pressed his face up between my legs, and I closed my eyes in the face of it.

"Open your eyes," he instructed me. I tried, and when I was finally able to look down, he was waiting there, smiling. "You doing okay?"

I nodded, words beyond my capability.

"Good. Then I want you to watch me." And then he carefully pulled down the waist of my pants to uncover my cock.

He looked up to me, saw my wide eyes staring, watching as instructed, and smiled. Then he opened his mouth and took me inside of him.

My entire body shuddered, and I had to look away, it was too much. When I finally was able to look again, he had stopped and was staring up at me. "Watch me," he told me firmly, commanded me, and I felt a second shudder threaten my body. I nodded.

He took me again, and I gasped and gathered rope into my hands and tried not to cry out. He moved his mouth up and down, watching me watch him, seeing me react, digging his fingers into my hips in time with my gasps and hovering just over the head of my cock to hear me moan, to watch me squirm. Soon, he pulled away, moved his head up my body, biting my hipbone, then just below my ribs, making his way to standing, stroking my cock all the while.

I lunged at him as soon as he was in range, kissing him as deeply as I could. He kissed me back for a little, indulging me, but all too quickly his hand was in my hair, pulling me back. I panted, trying to figure out which way was up.

He took one look at my face and actually laughed at me. "You need a break," he said. He untied me from the bedpost and pushed me onto the bed. "Stay," he instructed. "I'll know if you move."

I laid as still as I could, trying to breath, trying not to think too much about what was coming.

"I want to switch your ropes with manacles. It's more comfortable," he said, and I turned and found that he was naked, and immediately looked away before I tore a hole in myself with desire. He sat down beside me and started undoing my ropes.

"Wait," I told him, suddenly aware of what was going on. He was leaning down to kiss my wrist, and I almost lost the thread of what I had been thinking. It was important, very important, but it was getting confused in the sensation of his mouth on the soft underside of my arm.

Then cool metal snapped around my wrist.

"No." I sat up straight. He pulled back and let me move away. I looked down at the metal band wrapped around my arm, looked over at the pirate captain holding the key. "I don't," I started, but I didn't know how to say what I needed to. "This isn't."

"Okay," he said softly. He put out his hand, palm up. I hesitated, knowing how easy it would be for him to snap the other side closed. Then I put my hand in his. He unlocked the manacle and put it beside the bed. "Ropes," he said. I nodded, but I eyed the manacles beside the bed. He got up and silently put them away.

He tied me back up, careful and gentle. I didn't know hands could be so gentle. He brushed my hair from my face and looked me over. "Good?"

I was, I found. I had to be when I was near him, when his hands were on me. I nodded and leaned forward to kiss him. He let me get close, so close, inching away and making me follow until I was at the end of where I could move. Only there, only then, did he brush his lips against mine.

He laughed at the noises I made, then dug a hand into my hair and at the same time grabbed the shaft of my cock. I cursed, and he kissed me, one hand rhythmic and the other steady, pulling, turning me into an arching moaning creature.

"Keep your hips down," he murmured into my cheek, his mouth on his way to my neck, nipping and nibbling. I tried, but they kept lifting, lifting into his hand. The third time I did it, he moved his hand to my hip bones and slammed them back down to the bed.

"Keep them down," he warned me, in a voice that sent shivers all through my body. I nodded, and he spidered his hand back to my cock and when it reached it he bit my collarbone and I cried out.

He kept moving his mouth down, pulling the back of my head with it until his arm didn't reach, until his mouth hovered centimeters from the tip of the part of me that stood, quivering, twitching, all of me waiting. I knew I could lift my hips and it would reach. I knew I could bridge the gap.

But I knew he didn't want me to. I waited.

"Good," he told me, and smiled up at me, and I only had a second to smile back before he dropped down and licked the length of my shaft.

I cursed, long and low and with my whole body. He was moving slow, torturing me, his tongue tracing circles around the most sensitive parts of my body. His fingers roved my hips, and my legs, and my stomach, pinching and tracing and pushing. He lifted his head as I cursed again, watching me squirm. Then he moved again, and took my balls in his mouth.

Waves of it were rolling through my body. I felt myself reaching a height, knew what was coming next. "Please, sir," I tried to tell him. I don't know how I made any words out of the vibrating mess I had become. "I'm going to come."

He looked up at me, took in my face. "No," he said simply, and took me back in his mouth.

"God." I hid my face behind my arms, cursed and writhed, trying to hold back the waves of pleasure building behind my eyes, within his mouth, inside my core. "Please," I tried again.

"Look at me." I shook my head. "Look at me," he commanded, and I did. I almost lost it then, seeing him there, his smiling face so close to areas that should be mine, that were now his. He kissed the top of my cock, once, then nodded. "Come."

I let it go, gasping, and came all over his face.

At the end of it, I lay, trembling, staring down at the pirate captain who knelt between my legs. He grinned up at me and crawled up my body, moved his way up so he was straddling me. When his face hovered just above mine, he put his fingers to my chin and pulled my lips to his. He tasted like pleasure and warmth, and I kissed him soft and was no longer so afraid that I was going to break.

I felt his hand in my hair and I opened my eyes to find his searching my face. I let them rove, let them explore my lips, my ears, the scar across my nose. "Never done something like this before, huh," he finally said.

"No." He still had cum on his face. My cum.

What the fuck had just happened?

"You're messy," I let him know. I thought about leaning forward and licking it off, what it would taste like. The thought caught me by surprise. I stared up at him, considering what an action like that would mean, how it would look, and suddenly found myself lifting towards his face tongue first.

He gasped as I succeeded, as surprised as I was. I stayed where I was moved when he pushed me back, smiling slightly at the taste I'd gotten for myself. He pushed his hair back, and I saw his hands tremble. His eyes were roving over me, taking in everything.

"Fuck," he finally said. "I'm gonna go get cleaned up. I'll be right back."

He didn't tell me to be still this time, but I was. When he came back, he looked me over with this strange mixture of confusion and desire. Then, he leaned over and untied my hands.

I immediately reached up and pulled him down, let my hands finally sink into his hair, let them brush against his cheek. I had been denied this so long, had been kept from knowing him in this way and there was so much I wanted to learn. He let me kiss and touch him for a while, then he pulled away.

"Stop," he said raggedly. But he didn't command, it was just a word, so I reached out again and pulled him back to me, felt my hand slip down his chest, explore his stomach, reach around his back. I felt his breath catch as I neared his hip bones, as I passed them.

"Stop." He pushed at me forcefully. It wasn't enough to actually move me, but move I did. "What are you doing?"

I didn't know. Dazed, I tried to find some semblance of breath in the lust-driven creature I had somehow become. My hand was still caught in his hair, the only link between our bodies. He made no move to disengage it, and so I left it there, only moving it down the the nape of his neck. He pressed into my fingers, and I saw that he was shaking. I let him anchor himself in my splayed palm.

"I don't want to be done," I told him. I didn't realize it was true until the words came from my throat. He closed his eyes and bit his lip. His breath was fast. "I want to do more."

"I don't want to overwhelm you," was his response. He didn't open his eyes.

"You won't." He shook his head against my hand. "You won't, I promise." I was desperate for him, needed even more than he'd already given me. I moved my body closer to him, pulled his head towards me at the same time. "I'm strong," I told him, my lips on his, and his hand found it's way into my hair. His breath was ragged against my body. But he didn't come closer.

"Fuck," he said quietly. "You make it hard, you make it so fucking hard."

I didn't know what he meant by that, but I knew what I wanted. I reached down and traced my finger over his erect cock.

My head was ripped back, his gasp a receding echo as he pulled my hair hard enough to move my entire body away from his. I could hear his breath panting from where he sat. His hand gripped my hair tight, and I didn't have a choice but to wait to see if I had made a mistake.

Just as suddenly as he had pulled me away, he yanked my head towards his, and we kissed, hot and deep and passionate. When he shoved at me, I fell back against the bed, and he fell on top of me, consuming me, my lips, my chin, my neck, up to my ear. I was gasping, reaching to pull him closer, but he kept pushing my hands away, pinning them against the rough sheets.

In time, he pushed himself up. He propped his forehead on mine, resting as he caught his breath, his heart pounding against my chest. My body was in a daze, wrapped in a cocoon of sensations that I didn't understand but wanted to never end. Only he could free me, I realized. I had to do what he wanted, would always do what he desired. It was all I wanted, and I ached with it.

I waited to see what he would do with me, what decision he would come to. He moved his lips to my ear. "Stay on your back and spread your legs," he whispered to me, and I almost whimpered to hear it. "Be ready for me when I come back."

I was waiting for him when he arrived, a jar of something in hand. I'd taken off my shirt while he was gone, a step we hadn't previously bothered with, and I don't think he'd been expecting it. He stopped and stared at me, free hand pushing back his hair, eyes demanding and dark. When he finally got into bed he settled between my legs, placing the jar on a side table in reach, and then he just looked at me. His eyes made me weak, weak in a way I had never been, and I felt like I should have been scared and yet I had never felt more safe. As his eyes explored me, so did his hands, sliding across muscles and skin, stopping at each and every scar they found as if marveling at my existance. He was a marvel. I was nothing but an afterthought. I pressed into his hands, guiding them down my stomach and over my hips. They ended up on my thighs, running up and down their scarred expanses.

"I'm going," he said a little incredulously, "to fuck you."

"Okay," I think I responded. It was hard to say anything in all the anticipation that was built up around my body.

He ran his hand over my hipbones and I shuddered. "Are you scared?"

"A little," I admitted.

He lifted my leg up over his shoulder. "I need you," he told me, kissing my calf, biting my skin, "to relax." I could feel his breath shaking against my body, could feel how much he wanted this. His want drove the desire in my crazy, wrapped it up inside of me sparkling and hot. He kissed his way up my leg to my knee, leaving a trail of blossoming tingles behind. "It's going to be okay."

I nodded, then gasped as my entire body shifted, the Captain pulling my hips up, his hands tight on my thighs. "Put your hands on the headboard," he instructed, and I did, "and don't you let go." He took a scoop from the jar, spread it on himself. I watched him. I couldn't take my eyes off his hand stroking his perfect cock, something I'd never wanted until tonight and now couldn't imagine living without. He moved his hand to me, his fingers gently spreading my ass, rimming my hole with lube. He paused, watching my eyes follow his every movement in anticipation, then pressed a finger inside of me. I gasped, lifting my hips, pressing against the pressure I hadn't realized I'd wanted so badly. He pulled it out and I let my breath out with it. "I don't want to see your hands anywhere but where I tell them."

"Yes, sir," I said, my voice raspy, and felt him shudder.

"Ready?" he asked, and I nodded, then he kissed my knee one last time and slowly pushed into me.

I wanted to curse, or shout, or do something, but the intensity of it, the slowness, the pressure, it all took my breath away. I meant to look at his face, to watch him, but I just couldn't do it, couldn't pay attention to anything but what was happening inside of me. I heard him moan, though, heard him let slip a low noise that shot me through with pins and needles and fire, and I gripped the headboard as tight as I could so that I wouldn't cry out.

He pressed into me again, but he was going so slow. It was torture, the feeling of wanting him deep inside of me, needing him there, and to have him move so slowly, so deliberately. I wanted him to move fast. I wanted him to move hard, as hard as he was, as hard as I was in danger of becoming again. "Fuck," I said, unable to contain it anymore. "Fuck fuck fuck."

He stopped, asked me something about pain, but stopping was the opposite of what I wanted, and pain was the opposite of what was going on, and I didn't know how to express that to him so I let go of the headboard and wrapped him up. One of my arms went around his waist and the one around his head, and he gasped and we cursed into each others lips and I pressed him into my body, pulled us as close as we could get, as deep as he would go.

He was shaking as he pushed me away. "Headboard," he reminded me.

"Fuck," I groaned as I lay back down, but it turned into a moan as he moved inside of me.