The Pirate King Ch. 03

"Not under, more with. He had a -" he shook his head. "It's complicated. Pirate business. You wouldn't understand."

"Try me," I repeated angrily. To hear him say he worked with the King, that struck something within me. It landed on top of my frustration, vibrated there and grew as he still wouldn't meet my gaze. I was frustrated with being left out of his 'pirate business', frustrated that he didn't think I could keep up. At being nothing but a prisoner to this man who was my entire world, despite everything I was doing to keep that from being so.

And I was pissed to hear about the theft of my flag.

"I think you'll find I understand more than you think," I continued, letting my frustration spill into my tone more than I probably should have.

He looked at me then, that same funny look he'd been giving me all day. "Okay," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

But I didn't have time for this. "Pirate King. You worked under, with. Shouldn't you be happy to see his flag?"

"Ha." It was that same dry laugh, tangling in his thick hair as it tried to escape his lips. "I kinda pissed him off."

"How?"

"It's complicated."

"Captain."

"I know, I know." He pulled his arm over his eyes and smiled the ghost of smile. "I may have tried to overthrow him."

"You did what?" I could literally feel the shock rolling off my body. My first thought was relief, to find us on the same side so drastically of this man he called the King. I let that sit within me for all of a second before my second thought overwhelmed me, which was; oh gods, no. No, not you, killed the same way I was. Such a fate was unimaginable for anyone but my worst enemies, and here was this man, having come so close to sharing it with me. The thought shot hot fire of fear and anger through my very soul, made my blood rush to my ears and my fingertips tingle. I could not believe that he was alive, that I was here holding his hand. I squeezed his hand as gently as I could, given the circumstances.

"It's odd, though." He ignored my outburst. "All the survivors of the ship said the same thing, that it was a ghost. Naked white flesh, grey eyes, ghost, ghost, ghost. No Pirate King."

I was still staring at him, taking in this man before me. Fate, I thought. No. Irony.

"What makes it even odder is, I know this ghost they're talking about. He was a legend in the north. More than a legend, he became this sort of. I don't know, symbol. He's supposed to mark his kills on his body, draws a line for each man killed in their blood." He drew his hand down over his eyes. "I don't know how they would know about him, really. Or why they would chose him, of all legends..."

But I was still stuck, needed to make sure I got this right. "You mutinied against the Pirate King?"

"And that's the other thing, there were survivors at all. Recently, if the King raises his flag, no man survives." He looked at me from under his fingers. "I thought you didn't know who the Pirate King was."

"I don't," I lied, "but. He's a king." I swallowed. "You should be dead."

"Hence the concern of the flag."

I paused then, took in more of what he had said. "He kills entire ships?"

"Massacres."

I felt a shiver of rage pass through my spine. The Captain put his hand on my shoulder, misunderstanding my shake. "Don't worry, he should still be far in the north. He doesn't often leave his empire. I think this was just." He shrugged. "I don't know, honestly. A ghost."

I pulled away from his hand. I didn't need his false comfort. "Ghosts don't exist," I said quietly.

If he noticed how I reacted to his touch, he didn't show it. "That ghost does. They said he did in the North, and it looks like now he's here. Because what he did to that ship, that happened. That's real. Twenty men dead, just like that. And you should have seen the dead, most killed where they were standing, one man had his jaw just." He stopped, shaking his head. I know, I wanted to tell him. I was there. You should have seen what they were trying to do to me. "I don't know, I don't know. Maybe it is the Pirate King, sea walking to come and get me."

I scoffed. As if the Pirate King could have done such a clean job of it.

"They say he can." He actually sounded serious. "They say he's a son of the sea." Then, more quietly. "I've seen the things he can do."

I looked up and realized that he was scared, truly frightened. I covered his hand with my other, trying to push my knowledge into him without having to say a word. "He can't reach you here," I told him. Not while I'm here, I added in my head.

He stayed tense for a moment, holding his convictions tight. Then he relaxed. "No," he sighed. "He can't, unless he's moved." He pulled his hand from mine and picked up his quill to began to sharpen a new nib. "I have letters to write, allies to check in with. I need to make sure he's still where I think he is. My friends help me make sure I never cross his path again."

"Good." I turned to gather up his papers for him, holding them carefully so they wouldn't smudge. He smiled as I handed them to him, and his smile undid me. It was the simplest of things. It always seemed to be with him, his hair, the way he moved his hand to pick up more ink, the way his lips curved to say thank you. The tightness of his pants. The drop of his stupid shirt.

I wasn't done with him. I knew it then, watching him sit there. I couldn't be done with him, not the way he sat in my chest and pulled at my very soul. It would rip me apart if I walked away like this, if I enacted the walls I had been drilling into my body these last few hours. How could it not? I had nothing to hold onto, nothing of my own left.

My heart had been stolen by the man who sat before me. My life had been stolen by a man thousands of miles away, unreachable now. My name was stolen by the sea. And my flag was stolen by the fucking pirate king. I wanted something of my own. Needed it. Even if it was just a moment, even if it couldn't mean anything. He'd had his moment for him; I needed to have mine for me.

Then, maybe, I could be free of him.

I moved to the door and locked it.

He frowned. "What are you doing?"

"You promised," I reminded him as I walked back towards the desk, my eyes taking in the man that had become my world, that I had decided to let be my world because without a world what is the point of living? I would rather have a world and live without, I realized, than never find such a place to belong at all. I thought all of that as I approached him, knowing this would be my last chance at entering his gravity. "You promised that we would finish what we had started."

"I did," he agreed, a frown flashing behind his eyes. He could tell something was different.

"And I've been waiting." For hours, I thought. For years. For my entire life. I've been waiting for you for millennia, and this will be my moment.

"Have you, now." He moved to get up, but I put my hand on his chest and pushed him back into his chair. Not this time, I thought. Not the bed. The bed was his, he had made that very clear. I would have him right here. Besides, there was something I wanted to try, had been thinking about trying ever since he'd brought me to his room that first night. His brows slowly unknitted as I kissed him, deep, but they were quick to draw back together as I dropped to my knees in front of him.

"Hey." He captured my chin in his hand. "You don't need to -"

"Shut up," I told him, my mouth chasing his thumb. His eyes widened slightly and he let me catch it, and I slipped it over my tongue and grinned as he gasped. I felt his other hand creep into my hair, entwining with strands and pulling my eyes to his.

"Okay," he agreed softly. I smiled around his thumb and began to work on his breeches. There was no pretending through the thin fabric that he wasn't enjoying was happening, and as I brushed my hand against the growing mound his hips jerked.

I reached into his trousers and found my prize, pulled it into the light of day. We gasped together, the Captain and I, he at my touch, and I at being so close to something so fucking perfect, so unmistakably erotic.

I'd been close to penises before, but never like this. Never one like this, so incredible and tempting. I imagined I could smell it, or maybe I could, a heady aroma that sent my head reeling and my mouth actually watering. I wanted him, needed him in a way I had never experienced before; it overwhelmed me, consumed me, and I knew the only way I could exorcise this demon that had been destroying my soul was by giving the Captain what he wanted, the way I wanted.

I carefully reached out and touched the head of his cock, and he shuddered, an entire body reaction to the gentlest of stimuli. I ran my finger along the length, base to tip, and watched his body shake, felt his hand tighten in my hair and my stomach tingled, my own cock hard and throbbing. It felt incredible to touch him, to let myself explore his body in even this most minor of ways.

I waited until he had calmed down. "I've never done this before," I warned him. I didn't want him to get his hopes up; Cookie had said he'd been with many whores, and I knew they were trained in how to do this.

"You don't have to do anything you don't -," he started, but I wanted to do this, and he wanted me to do this, and so I leaned down and put my mouth around his cock.

He gasped, his hand tightening around my hair. He tasted so good, the head of his cock warm and throbbing in my mouth. I never wanted to lift my head. I could feel the way his body reacted to me through his hand in his hair and the twitching inside my mouth. This, I thought, was where I could begin to control him truly. This was where he was mine. I experimented, moving deeper, then lifting and licking around the tip, trying to see what would get the strongest reaction. He cursed as I flicked my tongue at the base of the head, sliding my tongue under the lip that I found there, then gasped as I took him further in my mouth.

I traced circles around the tip of his cock, watching his whole body twitch, and loved it even as I knew he wanted more. Wanted control. I could feel his hand on my head all the while, felt him want to press and pull with my motions. I wanted that too, but not yet. I teased him for a minute longer, finding the crease at the very tip of his cock and licking along the length of it to see what that would do. He moaned and jerked beneath me, and I did it again and again until I got distracted by the other parts of him, the other sounds he made. I explored him, lightly, at my pace, and was somewhat surprised to find that he let me do it.

When I was ready, I lifted my head and met his eyes. They were half closed, his lips parted, and I couldn't help but smile to see the effect I had had on this man.

"Sir," I said. I was ready to give him what he really wanted. What I had been hoping he would take. "Guide me."

I saw him swallow, watched his breathing increase in tempo. He put his hand back on my chin and I felt his hand shake.

"Okay." He ran his fingers over my lips, watched shuddering as I tried to catch them with my tongue. "But you need to tell me if I'm too much."

"I will," I promised him. "But you won't be."

"Open your mouth." He gripped my head tighter, spreading his fingers across my head to give him control. He positioned me just above his cock. From this height, it looked massive, intimidating, but I trusted him. I opened my mouth and let him guide me down.

He gasped as my tongue touched the head of his cock, then my mouth, sliding down as his hand pressed gently. I was concerned I couldn't take all of him, knew that I couldn't, but he stopped me before I got anywhere near uncomfortable, brought me back to the tip. Again and again he guided my head down, then up, his hand on my head firm and tender.

With his other hand he brought my fingers to the base of his cock, placing them around the shaft. I pulled my hand from his, setting my own rhythm, slow and steady and deliberate. Somewhere above me I heard the Captain curse. He allowed the rhythm of my head to match the one I set with my hand.

I took him like I needed to, because I did. It was a single minded action that drove me, a demand that existed in my being without him having to give it. I felt myself speeding up, pulling against his hand, wanting his cock deeper against my throat, needing more of him inside my body. He moaned, his hips moving against me. I almost gagged as he thrust inside my mouth, and it made me want him more, made me need even more of him, but his hand pulled me back and denied me.

He didn't mean anything by it, in fact probably meant kindness, but it was frustrating.

I increased my pace and I heard him say something, but I wasn't listening. My entire world was his cock, his hand, my mouth and tongue, the way those things came together to make a blossom of pleasure and perfect harmony of bliss. The pressure he kept on my head didn't allow me to test myself, to see how much of him I could truly take, and I resigned myself to this, instead forcing him to increase the pace of my head by speeding up my hands, relishing how my fingers glided over his slick cock, tightening and loosening my grip as he moaned above me.

He shouted something, pulling my head from my rhythm. I kept stroking him, didn't want to let him stop me completely, but he slapped my hand away. I knelt there between his legs, staring up at the Captain. His chest was moving quickly, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. So he wouldn't see, I thought, if I just...

I leaned forward against his hand. He felt me and tightened his grasp, but at the end of my tether I was just close enough to reach his cock with my tongue. I opened my mouth and reached out, scraping the tip of his cock with the tip of my tongue.

He cursed and ripped my head back. I saw stars, the suddenness of the pain and control in my scalp breathtaking, and the noise I made was nothing like anything I had ever voiced before, small and sensual and filled with desire. The Captain's body reacted to it, his arm tensing and his hand jerking upwards, and because I was attached to the Captain's hand I was jerked upwards as well. I found myself lifted just off my knees, my head tilted up to meet the Captain's eyes.

He stayed like that for a moment, his eyes pumping waves of anticipation and pleasure through my core. They were ragged, unfocused in their desire, staring down at me with an intensity that wasn't directed but instead showered me with lust. I returned his look, knowing he was in control again, understanding he would have his way with me if he wanted. I wanted him to, I begged him with my eyes to take me. My head began to ache from the pressure his fingers exerted on my hair follicles, and I let slip a small noise with my breath.

He immediately tightened his grip against me, pulling my head back at an awkward angle. I loved being held by him, loved letting him move me in this way, and I felt my breath come hard and fast His other hand made its way to my chin, then slipped over my lips. I drew them into my mouth with my tongue, never letting go of his eyes with mine.

Breath hissed from his lips in a string of curses, leaving his chest, his body, the muscles unwinding as he lowered me back down. His fingers hooked into my mouth and drew me forward towards him, leaving my mouth only when I reached his cock.

He didn't wait for me to open my mouth, just pushed me onto the erect form waiting and I was glad. I tried to return my hand to the base, but he grabbed my wrist and twisted my arm behind my back, pinning it there. I jumped at the sudden escalation, but he shoved my head back down, making me maintain the rhythm that he had chosen for me without the meddling interference of my hand. I knew what was expected of me and kept my other hand far away.

The pace he chose was rougher, faster, but I loved it. Craved more. Warm waves were crashing against me from the pit of my stomach, driving me to do whatever it was that he wanted. Whatever he did, it wasn't enough. Even in this state, he didn't drive my head down as far as I wanted, didn't let me take as much as him as I desired. I wanted him. All of him.

His hand was pressing against my scalp, his cock was in my mouth, and I was where I wanted to be. When he yanked me up again suddenly, I wasn't going to be denied. I slipped my free hand up from where it had been resting and continued the rhythm hoping he would let me go back down.

But it was not to be. I was done with the Captain, because he was coming. I felt his entire body seize under my hand, his hips bucking up and his back arching. The hand on my head jerked back, pulling at my scalp with a gratifying intensity. My mouth fell open unbidden just as thick warm cum splashed across my face and neck, landing partially on my exposed tongue.

I took a moment to enjoy what had just occurred, to enjoy the taste of the Captain in my mouth, the commanding tug of his fingers laced through my hair, forcing my head to remain in place. Then I looked up to him. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back. He looked so peaceful that I almost let him be, but I wanted him to look at me. I wanted him to see what he'd created, the beauty he'd spread across my being. I pursed my lips and gently blew air over his cock.

He jerked, his entire body convulsing in on itself. I looked up at the face that now looked down at me, wide eyes taking in my craning neck, my body twisted to accommodate the hand he had trapped behind my back and the pressure from the hand he still had buried deep within my hair. His eyes traveled then to my open mouth, ending on the splashes of cum that ran from my lips over my chin, down my neck.

"Shit," he said, releasing me quickly and drawing his hands up, palms out, as if he were surrendering. "Holy fuck, I'm so sorry. I was trying not to -"

He shut up as I wiped a bit of cum from my face with my finger and licked it up, smiling.

"Fuck," he breathed, staring down at my decorated face. "Who are you." I licked his stomach and he shuddered.

"Yours," I reminded him. I stood up, kissing him on the way. He kissed me back, soft and confused and so sweet I almost believed he cared. But I had heard him earlier that day. I had to keep my plan, I told my endorphins and my racing heart. He told me who I could be with; now it was my turn. "But this is the last time I will ever let you touch me."

He pulled back. "What?"

"I'll be with Cookie if you need me."

"Wait! Fuck, your face!"

But I had already unlocked the door and was moving down the hall.

***

The door swung shut, leaving only the Captain in his quarters. He sat there alone, silent, staring at the space the man had just occupied for some time. His face was drawn together, stitches all pulled too tight in all the wrong places, his pants undone and limp dick hanging out.

Suddenly, the man pulled his hands to his head. "Fuck," he shouted. He drew his hair back, still staring at the door, as if willing it to open. The expression on his face was slowly changing from one of confusion to one of pain, the brows that were drawn together slowly drawing up, the lips that had been pursed dropping open in a gasp, only the smallest of breaths able to escape past.

The door remained steadfastly shut.

"Fuck," he whispered. He folded in half on the chair. Perhaps he was borne down by the weight of something; perhaps he simply could no longer bear the sight of that wooden door, closed to him forever. He stayed that way for a very long time, silent except for his shattered breaths.