Page 7

Merrymaking

“O h my, the air is so close in here,” I muttered, wiping my brow and pretending to be suffering from the heat. I glanced into the bucket. “Huh. This water’s gotten cold by now. I wonder if…”

I scooped a bit of soapy water in my hand as I turned to face the captain. He watched with an intense and captivated attention as I slapped my hand against my chest and let the soapy water drip down my body.

“Oh, that’s much better,” I sighed, following the trail of water with my hand and sliding my fingers down beside my now standing cock. Let him try to deny me now.

“You little fucker,” Captain Martin said, giving me a look that expressed how much he wanted to either fuck me or murder me. I couldn’t tell which.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Captain. Did I interrupt your self-reflection?”

“Get over here,” he said, stroking himself with some urgency. “No, wait. Leave the mop and come over here.”

“Yes, Captain,” I said, the glow of victory upon me. I did as he ordered and sauntered over to where he lay carelessly with his breeches down to his thighs, holding his gigantic cock as if he’d like nothing better than to beat me soundly with it.

“Get some of the oil and slick yourself up. Turn around so I can watch.”

“Yes, Captain,” I murmured, trying not to sound smug. I fought a smile as I poured some of the expensive oil into my hand. “Oops, it dripped onto my chest,” I muttered, smoothing slick liquid over my nipples and pectorals, whilst I turned and spread my legs. I poured more oil into my hand and reached behind me.

“Oh yes. That’s right, make yourself as slippery as a raw oyster for me,” the captain groaned.

I rubbed the oil all along my crack and polished my arsehole like I might a prized gem. I was rather fond of the thing, to be sure.

The captain let out a grunt and a sigh. “Use your fingers to fuck yourself, now.”

He sounded like he might erupt at any moment.

“Yes, Captain. Your wish is my command.”

I bent over and played with my hole, spreading the oil around and sticking my fingers in to get myself ready.

“O00h. Oooh,” he moaned, the sound of his hand moving back and forth over his prick echoing off the walls. “Oh, fuck yes. That’s perfect.” He stroked himself a bit more, and then his hand froze as he grimaced and closed his eyes. “Stop. Stop. Don’t move; don’t move.”

He was breathing heavily, and I wasn’t sure if he was speaking to me or to himself. He attempted to slow his breathing and calm down, and I imagined he had come close to finishing and was trying to stave off.

When his eyes opened, they were dark and aflame.

“Now, get on my stand this instant. I want to fill you with my seed, you nasty, utterly delectable scoundrel.”

Oh yes, he was getting to know me well.

I leapt onto the bed and crawled overtop the captain like a randy cheetah. He grabbed my chin and pinned me with a look.

“Stop fooling about and get on me, now. You’ve got three seconds, or I’ll finish on your face, and you’ll go to bed without anything else.”

I loved the way he could barely speak without gasping for breath. The man was a slave to my powers of seduction.

“Aye, Captain,” I said, getting into position.

I grabbed his cock, slicking the skin with what oil was left on my hand as he groaned and parted his lips, gazing at me like he wanted to slap me yet unable to do more than focus on staving off. It only took a moment to stuff his steel-hard member into my soft hole and sink down, the blissful look on his face my reward for any discomfort. There was so much fancy oil in play, however, that the burn was minimal and the feeling of being skewered was as good as I’d expected.

The captain’s eyes rolled back in his head, and he let out a vulnerable whimper.

“Good God,” he whispered as if he could barely function.

“Aye…” I stuttered in agreement, caught up in my own reaction to our joining, even though only the first few inches were in.

His hands gripped my hips all of a sudden, fingers pressing into my flesh with painful determination. He kept me still as he pushed the rest of the way in, impaling me with a ruthless efficiency.

I yelped, then groaned with exquisite pleasure.

“Dear God,” I moaned, my eyes going wide and then hooded as the captain began to thrust and curse and pant like he was fucking possessed.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he muttered, taking lungfuls of air between words. “Oh fuck. Good God. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck!”

The captain became quite overtaken. And even though this meant he wouldn’t last long, his urgency satisfied me in a completely different way. After only a few blissful seconds, he threw his head back—hitting the wall with a thunk —and let out an ecstatic cry that Boone and anyone else in the vicinity would have discerned with ease.

I watched him come apart beneath me, my mouth agape as I gasped and moaned. I went to take my cock in hand. Then I remembered his orders.

“Captain… Captain!” I panted. “Please, please, please,” I asked, still held in his death grip on my hips as he plumbed me with slowing fervour.

I was close. I was so fucking close.

Captain Martin’s cry of completion trailed off. He thrust into me again, then sank himself so deep I wondered if he could feel my tonsils, took my stand in hand, and got me off with three determined strokes.

I yelled with relief and ecstasy and watched my seed land on the captain’s white shirt in satisfactory spurts.

“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” I sighed, riding my exquisite culmination in thankful bliss that quickly turned into the opposite as Captain Martin, with an evil glint in his eye, kept his hand moving, deliberately handling the extra sensitive tip of my prick with purposeful delight.

“Oh, stop, stop, stop,” I cried, trying to bat his hand away as I felt his cock slide out of me along with a puddle of his seed.

But he made me withstand this torment for a time before he relaxed his grip and let his hand fall away. He sank back against the pillows. “Oh my fuck, that was lovely.”

I glared at him for a moment. Then I decided to forgive him his torturous games and melted against his chest and the damp fabric of his spoilt shirt.

I wasn’t sure what his reaction would be, but I felt so boneless and fatigued that I couldn’t really help myself. And he made quite the lovely pillow, to be honest. I snuggled against him, my nose pressed into his soft neck, and just about died when his arm came around me, and he kissed the top of my head.

“Simon White, you are a lazy, silly, aggravating fellow.”

I grinned. He was getting to know me, and even though the words were cruel, the tone of his voice was fond.

“Yes, Captain. ’Tis true enough.”

He chuckled, his body vibrating beneath me. He kissed me again.

“Have you always enjoyed having pricks inside you?” he asked with genuine curiosity.

I sighed. “Mostly. But it weren’t always that.”

“Pardon?”

“Well, I didn’t have access to other men in such a way at first. So I used like, cucumbers and carrots and other likely things to see if I’d like the sensation.”

“Carrots!” Captain Martin said, barking a laugh. “What on earth?”

“Well, they’re the right size, some of them. And they’re pretty fucking solid.”

“I suppose they are. You’re lucky you didn’t lose one up there.”

“A few times I came close. They’re awful slippery when they’re covered with lard,” I murmured. “Speaking of which, that oil is lovely. Works very well to take your cock without any trouble.”

“Why do you think I have it?”

I smiled, although he couldn’t see. “Have you had that truncheon in every man aboard?”

Captain Martin sighed. “No, Rooster. Only a select handful,” he admitted. “They aren’t all sodomites, and I don’t push myself in where I’m not wanted.”

I nodded, more than a little relieved to hear that.

“And nobody cares that you are?”

“What…a sodomite?” he asked, blithely.

“A mag, a molly, a margery,” I said, referring to the popular slang of the time. I rolled off him and grabbed my wilting cock, waving it in the air. “Mother Midnight, a creature.”

“Good God. Do you know every term used in the alleyways?”

“Of course I do. Where do you think I’ve come from?”

He pushed himself onto his elbow and gazed down at me, stroking his fingers along my side to rest on my hip. He chuckled.

“You’ve got indents from my fingers here.”

“Have I? Don’t sound so surprised.”

“Well, you’re far too well spoken and literate to have grown up in the streets, Rooster. Don’t play me for a fool,” he said, sliding that hand over my bottom and slipping his fingers in the crack. He stretched me open and fingered my soaked hole, hissing with delight. “Mmm, so wet with my seed, you slattern.”

I gasped as he played with me. “Aye, filled like a bloody custard tart,” I stated with glee.

“Oh yes,” he said, slipping a finger in, then another. “Goddamn it, Rooster. How on earth did I resist you for so long ? Hmm? Even desperate and as filthy as you were, you lit a fire within me. And that flame only burns brighter now.”

I glowed with happiness.

“But you ignored me. I was a nuisance, surely, more than anything else.”

“I did think that. And you were. You are,” he murmured as if they were endearments, while he probed my depths with his fingers, making me stutter and moan and my cock fill again. “Such a fucking nuisance.”

He took my mouth with his and plundered me at both ends, sighing, then thrusting hard with his fingers.

I moaned and wiggled in his hold, letting him have me, letting him play. I loved being the captain’s slut in his comfortable bed, filled with his seed, being frigged by his tireless fingers. I was in heaven.

A shout broke me out of my waking dream. It took a moment to realize the exclamation was a happy sound and not a cry of distress. The captain pulled back from my mouth and stilled his hand. He listened.

“Sounds like the crew is celebrating,” he muttered, and sure enough, I heard the notes of Darcy’s fiddle, and other sounds of merriment.

“Celebrating what?” I asked, then whimpered as the captain withdrew his fingers from my greedy arse.

“Who knows? Let’s go find out, shall we?”

Part of me wanted to stay here in the coziness and comfort of the captain’s quarters. But he seemed eager to join the fun.

He helped me clean up, sniggering about the amount of seed he’d dropped in me, the cheeky bastard. I imagined this would likely be a continuing theme with him, and I surely didn’t mind it. There was nothing like being filled by a man you admired, especially when the courtesy made him so proud.

The captain stripped off his soiled shirt and dropped the garment into a basket in the corner. He found a fresh one in a drawer.

“Do you know how to do laundry, Rooster? We should wash these bedsheets once a week to keep the vermin and the smells away,” he said as he drew on the clean shirt.

“I don’t, but I suppose I can learn,” I said since I was in a good mood and had decided to do what I could to stay in his good graces.

“That’s the spirit,” he said with a smile that was everything.

Once we’d dressed, I followed him out the door. Boone was sitting there as usual—did the man ever take a leak or a shit?—and now looked up.

“Boone, why don’t you lock up and join the hullabaloo?” Captain Martin said. “We’re going up, and I have the other key in my pocket.”

“Thank you, Captain Martin. I was hoping to,” Boone said and stood.

The deck was crowded with men in good spirits, holding bottles of whatever liquor they could get their hands on. I knew there was rum aboard, of course, but I’d also been offered drams of whiskey, and the cook served ale with every big meal.

There was singing and laughing and cursing. I didn’t want to hang onto the captain like a dog, so I headed away when I saw Martinéz and Lahiri, but strong fingers circled my wrist and the captain pulled me back.

“Where do you think you’re going, Rooster?”

I blinked at him. “I see my friends, Captain.”

Captain Martin followed my gaze, then considered. His grip relaxed and let me loose.

“Only come back to me soon, please.”

He gazed at me in a daft kind of way that made my heart flutter.

“Of course, I will. I just want to say halloo.”

He nodded, and I left him.

“White!” Martinéz shouted as I neared. “You broke free of the captain’s shackles, I see!”

“Ropes is more like,” I said, grinning and rubbing my wrist as if there was a burn there. “He does like to keep me still when he’s feeling amorous.”

Lahiri chortled, his copper skin looking softer than a moonlit night. He was a delicate fellow—wiry, like me. I’d asked where he was originally from, and he’d said Kolkata in the East Indies, a very hot and crowded place. He liked the sea better and had hid away on a merchant vessel that had been overtaken by the Arrow a few years back. He’d skirted most of the fighting and had shown the crew to the booty on board their ship once the battle was won. Captain Martin had offered him a place, and he’d been crew ever since.

Martinéz was from Madrid and had been a member of a Spanish militia ship that Captain Martin and his crew had ransacked. There were several others on the Arrow who had deserted for Captain Martin, and for the opportunity to live in a different way, without the classism and structure of the Spanish military organization. Even though, to most Englishmen, the Spaniards were the enemy, if these men had abandoned their countrymen that was proof enough they were on our side.

All the folks on board, from what I’d gleaned, preferred a rebellious nomadic life on the seas to the restrictive lives they’d known. Myself included. So far, life aboard Captain Martin’s ship had treated me better than anywhere else.

I sat my arse down on a sack of potatoes and stretched my legs. There was a lovely soft breeze, so the ship rocked peacefully on the current that carried her along. Half the sails had been rolled and tied, so that we drifted along at a sedate pace. It had been a day of hard work for most, and the fresh sea air did well to cover the smell of so many unbathed men.

The overnight crew were at their posts and seemed relatively alert, although most had cups or bottles in hand to partake of the festivities.

“The captain treating you well, then?” Martinéz asked.

“Oh aye. Keeps me in luxury, he does, except when we’re fucking. Then he likes to treat me all lowly, like I’m his helpless slave.” I grinned. “It’s bloody perfect.”

“Jesus. You’re as filthy as he is.”

“I think they’re a good match,” Lahiri said. “The captain likes to subdue his lovers, and Simon appears to like a good struggle.”

“Didn’t know how much, until him,” I admitted, reaching for the bottle that Martinéz was holding. “He’s got a wonderful way of making me wait.”

“You behaving yourself?” Lahiri asked.

I pretended to be shocked. “I’ll have you know, I’m a perfect angel with the captain.”

Martinéz threw back his head and howled as Darcy started up with his fiddle again, playing a lively Irish jig that got a few men up to dance.

I glanced over to see the captain sitting on the boards, leaning against the rail beside Donatello with his legs stretched out. Donatello was speaking and Captain Martin nodded, then tipped the bottle to his lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he drank, then he met my gaze and smiled as he lowered the drink.

I could not explain how that simple gesture affected me. I immediately wanted to go to him, so I made excuses to my friends and made my way back.

“Hullo again, Captain,” I said, planting my feet apart on the deck in front of them.

“Hullo again, White,” he said, offering me the bottle. “Sit a spell with us.”

I took the offered jug and tipped it up, gulping a burning draft of whiskey into my gullet. I gave the container back and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.

We stared at each other, and I swear to the Holy Mother that I wanted him to bend me over the side of the ship and fuck me in front of everyone. I hoped he had the same idea, but he kept quiet and simply delivered his lustful thoughts into my brain.

I took a deep breath. Everyone knew about us. They knew the captain was a sodomite and that I warmed his bed. I warred with myself for about two seconds before I stepped forward, a foot on either side of his outstretched legs. I sank so that I was astride them, my arse perched on his strong thighs.

“I missed you,” he whispered.

I cupped his chin in my palm and leaned forward, touching his familiar lips with mine in the gentlest of kisses. When I pulled back, his eyes shone with happiness and surprise.

I started to get up, but Captain Martin’s fingers wrapped around my wrist, and he tugged me forward so I fell against him. He wrapped an arm around me and took another swig of whiskey. I settled against him, content to be coddled by the man who’d cruelly tanned my hide and filled me with seed only an hour before. If this was pirate life, then sign me the fuck up.

There was audible laughter and muttering from some of the others, but nobody made a fuss. If we’d done this in the middle of the Penny Whistle, the establishment where we’d first encountered each other, I’m almost certain that the law would have been called. At the very least, we would have been tossed out into the street. But here, in the middle of the ocean, on Captain Martin’s ship, we were safe to indulge our feelings for each other.

The soft da-dump , da-dump of the captain’s heart under my ear, and the jolly sounds of the fiddle and the stomping of boots soothed my restless mind. The captain shared his drink, feeding me like I was a babe in arms, and I thrilled to the gesture. I’d surely never felt so fucking safe and cared for in my life. I knew that Captain Martin was fearless and relentless in battle, and that he’d been responsible for the deaths of many a merchant seaman, and possibly several British Naval Officers as well. But he’d been nothing but kind to me, even whilst treating me like his personal whore. He’d never done anything cruel or vicious to me, and I truly had earned that spanking.

Going over the captain’s fine lap and getting a hiding was nothing, compared to the actual cruelty I’d suffered at the hands of so many, in my short life. What we did together in that cabin was different, so different, and I’d fight anyone who denied it.

After a spell of blissful snuggling, I shifted to sit at the captain’s side, and we drank and talked and joked with Donatello. Donatello and Captain Martin traded jibes and insults like very old mates often did, and I almost pissed my breeches a few times. Instead, I did like everyone else and pissed over the side, as the sun went down and darkness fell. Lamps were lit, and the merry-making continued into the wee hours. The sight of a deck full of drunken pirates singing songs and having fun, struck me as a delightful, wondrous spectacle to fall asleep to, leaning on Captain Martin’s shoulder in the tranquil tropical night.