The Pirate King Ch. 14

He grinned happily, just on the wrong side of mischievous.

I turned back to the Captain, silently cursing Russians and blood bonds and drink and plans, and whatever plan it was that had made me think it was a good idea to bring this man in the first place. "Think we can get your crew over here?"

He stared up at me from where he stood nestled in my arms. "Fuck," he finally said. "Fuck."

***

It took the crew a long time to filter from the old ship to the new. I suppose I didn't blame them; they believed this ship populated by ghosts. And it was, in a way. I was dead, Ichor was born anew, Sneg carried things even I didn't understand.

Fuck if even I understood what the Russian was.

But their Captain called. And so they came.

Cookie was one of the first. Not the first, mind you. He knew better than to draw attention to himself in such a way. But still, he came, muttering the entire way, his arms full of kitchen goods.

He stared grumpily at me as he he made his way over the deck. I raised an eyebrow at his expression.

He chinned curtly at the large man I knew was somewhere back over my left. "The fucking Russian?"

I shrugged. Alan might have been one of the few men on ship who had actually seen this man up close before, knew what he could do. It wouldn't surprise me if his reaction was as much to the stories and the way the crew would react as to this man's infernal way of being. "There are fresh limes in the kitchen."

He didn't complain much after that.

Thron arrived soon after. "Ghost."

"Thron."

He pulled up before me, clearly uncomfortable on this new deck, the larger expanse, the unfamiliar dip. He frowned. "You came back."

I felt my arms tighten against the Captain at the way those words fell from his lips, felt the Captain lean against me in comfort. "I said I would."

"Aye," he said. "Never doubted you." He didn't leave, still sweeping the docks with eyes that were still not quite at home.

He needed to be at home. This was going to be his home. "You need something, Thron?"

"No, Ghost. Nay. Just." His eyes were still roving. "Looking."

"Look, then." I got an idea. It wasn't a good idea; it wasn't even a half decent idea. But I was tired of having the Russian so close to my back, of watching the way men's eyes danced between our bodies. "Ivan could show you around, if you'd like."

He turned to me, questions in his eyes. Before me, I could feel the Captain stiffen.

But the Russian was already stepping forward. His eyes were taking in Thron's form. I watched them land on on the knife at his waist, the scars on his hands, the healthy fighting stance Thron always seemed to wear, then watched them linger on the muscled arms and wondered if it was a professional or a personal matter that held his attention. When I saw the smile that passed over his open face, I had my answer. "Dryg! Come! It will be fun, da?"

The Captain looked up at me. Thron looked over at me. A man or two who were simply passing by looked at me, then looked at the Russian, then looked back to me.

I sighed.

"Okay," Thron said warily. The Russian positively beamed, his eyes still running over Thron's form and making no attempt to hide it.

The Captain and I watched them walk away from us. "Will they be alright?" he asked me. I heard the doubt in his voice and wrapped my arms over his chest.

"Trust," I murmured into his head. They were evenly matched. Unless Thron had severely dropped off his training since the last time I'd seen him, neither of them could beat the other. And the Russian might be gregarious, and overt, and shockingly willing to make his advances known, but I had never known him to make any attempt to take what he wanted by force.

Unless it was an island. Or a ship. Or a stool, or beer. Once I had seen him kill a man for a shirt.

In fairness to him, it had been a very nice shirt.

But there had been no complaints from his lovers, or I would not have even brought him on board. I watched the two men disappear below deck, the Russian holding open the door for the still very suspicious Thron. We would just have to keep an eye on them and step in if necessary.

"I trust," the Captain was responding. "He's just so."

I knew he was speaking of the Russian. And I knew exactly what he was speaking about. I buried my nose in his hair and ignored all the frustrations in the world for the pleasure of the man before me.

And what a pleasure he was. I could feel the smooth chest under my arms, strong fingers hanging lightly on my arms. I smiled, letting my lips slide down his skull, seeking out his ear.

"Hey," he murmured, then, "Hey," again, more emphatically, as my teeth found his earlobe.

"What about you?" I asked quietly, lips against the skin just below his ear. I moved down further, finding the base of his jaw. He turned into me, his breath shuddering. "Want to be shown around?"

I could feel him hesitate. "My crew."

I nipped at the skin I had found, so soft , so sensitive, and felt his fingers tense against my arms. His crew would be fine. If they needed him to babysit them, they were not a crew I wanted on any ship of mine.

"Finn," he called. "FINN."

"Aye," the man answered, pulling up at the Captain's side. "There's no need to shout, then."

"Have my things brought over from the other ship." He didn't even look at his steward to see if this command was being processed; he was too busy staring at me, having stepped out of range of my lips, staying just in range of my fingers and keeping me perfectly in range of those dark, dark eyes. I shuddered as I saw all the things he had planned for me flashing through their depths. "And round up the rest of the men. Get them the fuck over here."

"Aye." I could see Finn where he stood behind the Captain. His eyes were everywhere, wide and suspicious. His fingers etched sign after sigil after sign. "Ghost, good to see you." I managed to nod, my eyes still caught in the Captain's. "Where's Natch?"

"Busy." The Captain stepped forward and I shivered. "How long should it take?"

"An hour." Another sigil. That one was for the restless dead, I noticed.

I didn't feel restless, not so much. I felt agitated, churning, everything on edge at the proximity of this man, those fingers. His lips.

"Perfect," he whispered, and he was close to me again, so close that those lips brushed against my skin, and that word, that sensation. I closed my eyes and let it all just wash over me, feel the sea within me respond. Feeling my soul begin to crash. "Come and get me when it's done."

"Aye," Finn said, but we were already gone.

The Captain pushed me across the deck with his presence as much as his body, our eyes still locked as he made me back through ropes and duck under booms, his eyes guiding me, his hands keeping me safe. When we reached the door to the lower deck he spun me around, using his hand in my hair to push me down and through the small door.

As soon as we were inside he had me up against the wall, fingers entwining and tugging in his hair as he brought my lips crashing into his. I moaned into the kiss, letting my hands settle on his hips in an attempt to pull him even closer to me.

I should have known I would never get away with such an action, such control. Almost immediately his hands were around my wrists, my hair forgotten. I gasped into his lips as he pushed my hands against the wall, pinning me where he wanted me. I could have moved easily, but his command was law and my body understood that, and so he had only to press the slightest bit against my wrists to hold me steady. But I did not want the slightest bit of pressure - no, I wanted so much more. And so I gathered myself and pressed lightly against his hold, writhing beneath his grasp.

His reaction was immediate. My breath left my frame as he surged closer to me, his hands painfully tight on my skin, his body weight pinning me against the wall. I could feel how hard he was against me; I know he must have felt the same. Dark, blown out eyes stared up at me with eyes that did not even bother to disguise the lust and hunger they held.

I met them, if not entirely steadily. I could not be steady in the face of this. I was never entirely steady when so close to my love.

He came even closer, pressing his face into my neck. I felt his teeth making small nips against my neck and unthinkingly tilted my head to give him better access, even as gasps and small cries fell from my lips. He was so much. I was going to fly apart.

"Need you," I heard him mutter. His words sent an army of gooseflesh down my skin, made me prickle in a way that was anything but harmless. "Need you tied up beneath me, need you begging for more, need you screaming for me."

I was shuddering in full force now, my whole body reacting. I could feel stars being born in his words, and it was exhilarating to be so close to something so powerful. Something that could match me. The ocean within me rose, roaring, in response.

He nipped at my neck, a punctuated sentence in it's own right. My knees threatened to give. "Need you," he finished, and his voice did not entirely seem his own.

Some small part of me rejoiced to see him so affected by me. Most of me was focused on getting him to the bedroom, where I could submit, where I could be his. Where he could fuck me senseless. "Sir," I whispered, and I felt a shudder go through his body that only served to tighten his grip on me. I had to wait a moment to regain control over my voice after what his reaction did to me. "Your quarters."

I could feel his hesitation to move. He liked me where I was. I liked me where I was. But there is a place better, I tried to tell him with my mind. Filled with things you will love. That I have been dreaming of you using to love me.

His hesitation was so long I began to believe we would fuck right there in the hall. "I don't know the way," he finally admitted.

"I do."

His command was instant. "Take me."

And so I did.

I think it was part of the game I had been playing these past weeks. Or perhaps it was just the ways I am, that I cannot fully ever turn off the dangerous things that lurk within. But as soon as he commanded me to take him I had him up against the opposite wall, my arm to his throat, my hardness pressed against his. I saw understanding flash over his face, felt him tense even as he moaned to be held in such a way.

My hand slowly moved over his ass, feeling it so perfect in those pants I loved so fucking much. I pulled his leg up around me, opening him to me. I felt him hiss, his breath slipping over my neck and making me shiver.

"Is this not what you wanted?" I asked, feigning innocence. "For me to take you?"

"You know what I fucking meant." His voice was breathy as he felt my fingers graze over his ass, down his perfect crack so barely clothed in his tight fucking pants. In honesty, I didn't have much of a clue of what I was doing. This was new territory for me.

But the Captain, the Captain. I understood the Captain. Watching his reactions, seeing when he threw his head back, when he dropped curses like they were heavy things instead of the light banter he usually employed. That was enough for me.

But it was not what I was truly craving. At least not tonight. That thought surprised me, that at some point I might crave this. And it was harder to pull myself from teasing him than I had anticipated, finding my body strangely drawn to this. To having the Captain shivering beneath me, his body taut and drawn against mine like ropes and sails at full wind...

I sighed and pulled myself away. For his first night on his ship, this would not do. And I didn't want it, not like this. Not tonight. I had very clear ideas of how this night should go. And so I stepped back, allowing space between our bodies.

It was a perfect mistake.

The Captain was on me in an instant, one hand twisting my hand behind my back, the other tight in my hair, pressing my face to the wall. I gasped to feel him press up against me, very aware of the deliberate way he arranged his body around me as his head came to a rest next to mine.

"Do that to me again," he whispered into my ear, his breath hot but his words somehow hotter, scorching, "and I will be very, very displeased."

"What?" I managed around the gasping pleasure that was having this man so close against me. "Pinning you to a wall?"

He pressed even closer. I moaned to feel his hardness against my ass. "No," he murmured. "Not finishing what you fucking start."

Then he was gone, leaving me gasping, spinning. Dreaming. My face still pressed up against paneled wood.

"Well?" he called from somewhere behind me. I wasn't ready to turn just yet, so I just basked in his voice. "Are we going to the bedroom or not?"

Fuck yes we were. I made myself be ready, spinning so quickly he took a step back as I grasped his hand and drug him through the halls.

We passed Thron and the Russian as we made our way through the halls. I paid them very little attention as we hurtled past Thron's bewildered face, then the Russian's cheerful smile. They were nothing. The Captain behind me, his breath fast, his eyes on me. He was what mattered.

I barely registered the door when we arrived, simply opening it impatiently. I had only opened this door once before, when I had removed all traces of the previous captain and installed my own ideas of what a true captain should have in his room. Since then this room had been off limits. I had slept in the riggings; I did not know where the rest of my crew slept, but I was sure it was not here. Still, there was little ceremony as the door was flung open, my body pulling the Captain's through the opening. I needed him here. I needed him.

I needed him.

He didn't waste time on his surroundings. He had eyes for me, and for me alone. My breath caught as I saw the way his eyes refused to leave my body, how they tracked me through space, not even checking spaces that could have held ambushes or enemies. He trusted me. He loved me. He wanted me.

I pushed the door shut behind us and promptly ceased thinking.

He was on me in an instant, pulling at the hem of my shirt. He pushed me back even as he drove to get me undressed, my eyes unable to see as he pulled my shirt over my head but who needed sight when the Captain's hands were there. Then his lips landed on my neck, blistering and demanding and I knew what they would need of me even as I stumbled backwards, not caring what might be behind me, not knowing what was there. The Captain would keep me safe. The Captain -

The back of my knees hit something and I toppled over, my shirt already a thing of the past, my eyes captured by the dark irises of the Captains. His fingers already in my waistband. He chuckled as I hit the bed, my gasp losing itself in his amusement. Then he quickly pulled his shirt from his body and placed his knee over my hip, dragging his cock over mine in the movement.

I groaned at the contact, feeling my eyes fluttering closed. I couldn't help myself; my sight was always the first to go in such situations. I was relieved when he allowed me to keep my eyes shut as he worked his fingers beneath my breeches up to the tie, his nimble fingers making short work of the laces. I pressed the back of my head into the mattress and gave myself into the feeling of his fingertips, of his breath. The pressure of his weight on top of mine.

"Hips," he whispered, and I lifted mine without second thought. I felt my breeches slide down, felt them leave my legs with determination. I sighed and put my hands up above my head, knowing how much he loved seeing me spread out like that. The gasp that came from above me told me that I had been right.

I felt him coming closer, his body leaning down as his hands slid up my legs. When they reached my waist, one made a temporary diversion to my cock. He traced a single finger up it's length, beginning at the very base just above where my balls hung, letting his finger take a leisurely and tortuously light route that ended with his finger in the slit at the head, and with me, panting, my fingers tight in the bedsheets, eyes still squeezed shut.

From my waist his hands continued their movements up over my ribs, just skirting my nipples. He lingered on my collarbones, his fingers drumming in the hollow of my neck, then his hands took separate paths. One continued it's upward trajectory, tracing over my shoulder, my bicep, finding my wrist and pinning me to the bed with exquisite pressure. The other waited a beat then landed, feather light and terribly, wonderfully, perfectly dangerous, on my exposed next.

I immediately froze. I wanted to arch into his touch, needing more pressure, needing him to stop everything that was crashing through me relentlessly only to decide when it would again slam through my body. Only he could quiet me. Only he could make it okay when everything was loud again.

But I didn't move. I wasn't even sure if I could.

"Been dreaming of this," I heard him whisper. I felt his lips brush my cheekbone, his hair skimming the sides of my face. I shuddered at the light caress and felt his fingers tighten at the motion. "Been dreaming of you. Every night. Every day. Every fucking second of every fucking minute."

His forehead landed on mine. I could feel his breath on my lips, warm and fast. His heart beat just above mine.

"My love." Words I had been waiting for dripped onto my mouth. I licked them up, tasted their honey, their lightning. "Love, look at me."

I took one last moment in darkness. But he had commanded, and I knew I would never deny him anything even if he hadn't, and so my eyes slowly drifted open.

I found his right there, wide open, dark, filled with the world and the universe and everything beyond that and I gasped, couldn't keep the breath from leaving my lungs up past his hand and out my mouth and he smiled and dropped at once, crashing his lips to mine and pressing his hand tight against my throat.

I think I forgot to exist during that kiss. I think I couldn't have existed even if I had remembered. He was everything; how could I have been anything outside of his lips on mine, his teeth on my lips, his tongue light and hot in my mouth. His hand holding me down, holding me in, keeping gasps in my mouth where he wanted them, not letting them make it down to my chest or my heart or my soul, my soul was there in my throat, my soul was everything and my everything was him.

He ended the kiss with a soft bite to my nose. We were each panting heavily, my breath slipping past his hand now resting softly on the soft flesh of my exposed throat, his thumb softly stroking the skin beneath it.

"Makes you so still," I heard him whisper. "Makes you so fucking everything, and then so still." I knew he was looking down at me there, my body arrested by the suddenness of the ocean rushing after being held back. Have you ever seen a tsunami, I wanted to ask. Seen the seas rush out, gather themselves up. Feel the calm, the silence, before they come crashing back into shore. Do you know what you're doing, to hold the ocean in the palm of your hand like this?

But of course he did. I saw him smile and my heart fluttered at the sharpness of that expression. He always did, always would. And he thought it was fun.

I felt him roll off of me, his hand lifting from my neck, my wrists, and heard myself let out a sound I didn't recognize at the separation. So needy. So soft.

"Shh," he murmured, dropping a kiss on my forehead. "I just. I need some fucking rope."

You have so much more than rope, I wanted to tell him. But I couldn't fucking move, so I just laid there and hoped he found what I had brought him.

"Fuck," I heard him mutter as he looked me over one last time. Then he spun away. I could track him by the curses he dropped as he moved around the room, and was happy he was moving in the right direction. Just a little further, I thought. Just a bit -