The Pirate and His Captain

"Cap wants to see you in his office," Tom said with a leer.

John's stomach dropped and he continued tying bundles of olive leaf, basil, ginger, and other herbs. "Now?"

Tom nodded. "Said he can't wait and is hard pressed for some medical relief."

"That's disgusting. Tell him I'm busy getting these ready to hang dry so if everyone gets the flu this year, they'll have enough medicine to survive it," John snapped, not looking up from his work.

"He'll just ask your girlfriend to help him, then."

"Gods, can't he just take care of himself?" John asked, exasperated, giving the current bundle of herbs a tighter knot than necessary out of frustration. "Samantha is seasick and trying to keep her last meal down in my hammock. Go take care of him yourself. It's not like it'll take the old man a lot to—"

"To what, exactly?"

John froze. Shit. He let out a breath then looked up at the new intruder in his workspace. Robert. Of course. Their eyes met and John wished he could sink to the bottom of the ocean to get away from the pirate's lecherous stare. The man couldn't even wait two seconds before coming in and screwing everything up. "Nothing," John said, voice low. He clenched the string in his hands.

"No no, boy. Finish your thought," Robert replied in a quiet command.

"To come, Sir," John muttered, cheeks red.

"How impudent," Robert said evenly. He raised a hand and beckoned. "But you're going to help me with it anyway and we'll see how fast I end up coming."

His insides churning, John sidestepped Tom and followed Robert out of his workroom and into Robert's quarters. Robert strode to the bed, divesting himself of garments as he walked. "Pick those up and put them over a chair, please."

There wasn't a point in arguing or protesting. John bent down and picked the different clothes up. At least he didn't have to watch the pirate get rid of the last layers. He'd rather pick them all up as Robert flung them from the bed than have to deal with looking at Robert and shove down a panic attack. Once the clothes were all folded neatly and set on a chair and Robert's boots were standing beside the far end of the bed, John stood up straight and forced himself to look at Robert.

"I can't decide who I like looking at more, you or Samantha," Robert said thoughtfully. He lay on the bed on his side, propped up with an elbow, his other hand stroking his leaking shaft. John swallowed back a wave of mild nausea. He'd never been alone with Robert in this type of context before. He couldn't decide what was worse, this or having Samantha here watching everything or participating. No, he knew this was better, would rather do this than have Sam involved at all.

"Samantha is resting," John replied automatically.

"Mmm... And if you want to keep her resting, I suggest you start shucking off your own clothes and putting them on another chair." Robert winked. "Hurry, please. I'm growing impatient."

John gave Robert's length an involuntary glance and shuddered then swiftly took his boots, socks, shirt, pants and underwear off. Once done, he stood a few feet away from the bed and looked just to the left of Robert's face. Please, skies, John hoped Sam slept long and well and didn't wake up and try to find him or Robert.

"On the bed, John," Robert purred, "come crawl and lay beside me. He patted beside him on the bed. "There's room for you here." And for Samantha if John didn't hurry.

"Yes, Captain," John answered and walked to the edge of the bed then crawled over and lay beside him, trying to keep a new wave of nausea and anxiety down. If he got sick right now, there would be no telling how bad Robert's retribution would be.

"Hmm... no. Sit up in front of me and hold my cock," Robert ordered, moving his hand from the organ in question to rest on his side. "Squeeze it lightly, tug it a little, rub your thumb over its head."

John grimaced but did as he was told and took Robert's penis in hand, gently massaging from base to tip, he paled and shuddered when he felt Robert's precome rubbed around everywhere, making a slick mess in John's hands. At least it made rubbing Robert's penis faster. He felt Robert grow hard and rubbed his thumb several times in a row over the slit of the pirate's penis, relieved when Robert started groaning and rocking his hips. More precum oozed out over Robert's penis and John's hands. John bit his lip and looked away, pausing to breathe for a few seconds, then resumed stroking.

"Such good hands, long agile fingers and wide palms, soft and worn from everything I put you through on this damn ship," Robert gasped, back arching. "Oh keep going, yes, like that, good, so good so— Aaargh! Ha! Yes! Gods!" Robert snarled and jerked his hips, come erupting from his penis as he orgasmed, spilling over John's fingers and the bed sheets. Panting and groaning, he rolled onto his back.

"Clean that up," he said between breaths, turning his head to look at John. "There are towels— You know where to find them."

John nodded but was grateful for the excuse to get away from Robert, the bed, and the mess. He took as much time as he dared finding a small hand towel, wiping his own hands off and finding a new one before going back to the bed and slowly cleaning up as much of Robert's semen from the sheets as he could.

"And my penis," Robert murmured, giving him a lazy crocodile smile, which grew bigger when John flushed. He whimpered and cooed as John wiped Robert off, sighing when John finished and dropped the towel off the bed. "Good," he whispered. "Now sit beside me again."

At least it wasn't lying down, John thought. That was something. He sighed and sat down where he had, glad that he'd been able to clean most of the mess up. The towels Robert had were exceptionally efficient at cleaning up messes. There must be tactile magic infused in the wool in the towels, John realized. There was barely any mess left, the towels even seemed to be cleaning themselves, thank skies.

Robert grinned at John and rolled over onto his side. "Poor thing, you're still completely soft." He reached over and stroked John's thigh, chuckling when John tensed. "Don't worry, I won't touch your cock. Not yet, anyway."

John let out a shaky breath and nodded stiffly.

"I want you to sing for me," Robert murmured. "I want you to sing for me until I'm hard again."

"Fine." John rolled his eyes and shoulders then sat up straight. "It would sound better if I sang standing up."

"Mmm, but I'd rather you sit down with me instead. Snark again and I'll have you lay down with me and spoon me with my ass pressing against your cock and rolling my hips on occasion, getting you—"

"A bright new ship came sailing in, on Christmas Day, on Christmas Day; a bright new ship came sailing in on Christmas day in the evening," John sang. He continued the song then launched into another festive tune, and another until Robert interrupted, demanding John sing more romantic songs, songs better suiting their situation, to John responded with a funeral song, which then prompted Robert to glare at him and repeat his request with an obtuse threat about Sam if John didn't sing what Robert wanted. Naturally, John drew up the worst romance songs he could think of, only to switch to better ones when Robert narrowed his eyes and glanced at the door.

"Lovely," Robert finally said, raising a hand up to stop another song. Thank skies. John's throat was completely dry. "Just lovely." Robert smiled at John, rose from the bed, poured a glass of juice and once near enough, handed John the cup.

"Thanks," John muttered and drank slowly. He didn't want to spill or cough from drinking too quickly; the grape juice was far too good to waste. He leaned over the side of the bed and set the glass on the floor, hoping Robert would step on it next time he got up and cut his foot.

Robert nodded, sitting up next to him. "Lie down, now. Let's get you hard." His lips curled up into a smile, cold and triumphant.

John shook his head. "Captain, that's really not necessary, please, just let me pleasure you with my mouth or my hands again or-or get myself ready for you to take me, or anything else." He hated, hated, hated begging Robert. But stroking the man's ego was the only chance he had at persuading Robert not to touch him. "Please, whatever you want, anything else you want."

"Even bringing Samantha in?"

Cold swept over John. He sat there, staring at Robert in disgusted horror. "No. I—"

"Then I'm afraid you'll continue to be my bed warmer and a more engaged and willing one at that. So. Lie down. I won't repeat myself."

John's shoulders sagged and his back fell back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

"And if you feel like you are going to throw up, tell me and I'll bring a bucket over for you."

"Fine."

Robert chuckled then straddled John's thighs, their penises brushing against each other as he settled. "There's a good little healer," he crooned, rubbing John's hips, stomach, around the base of John's penis. "Mmm. Such a pretty color your skin is. Like dark caramel." He leaned over and nuzzled John's chest for a moment then sat back up, nose wrinkling. "You need a bath, boy."

"I'm literally on a pirate ship in the middle of the ocean."

"Mmm... I'll just push you overboard and drop the rowboat down in a few minutes after with soap for you."

"How generous."

"Don't you forget it," Robert murmured, rolling his hips, snorting when John's penis twitched. He cupped it in his hands and lightly pushed the foreskin back on John's penis, smiling broadly when John shivered. "Feels good, doesn't it?"

Cheeks flushing, John nodded curtly.

Robert continued to run his hand up and down the length of John's penis then focused on rubbing his thumb along the slit, over the head, rumbling as John gradually grew harder and harder. John moaned, shifting a little underneath Robert, jerking when Robert squeezed him too tightly. "Agh!"

"Shhh, you're fine, you're just fine." Robert leaned over and kissed his shoulder then sat up and kept playing with John, rumbling again when John was almost fully hard. "Oh, you're more than fine, look at you, leaking and ready for more."

John shuddered, a mix of anxiety, slight nausea, and arousal rolling around inside him. "Just get it over with," he muttered, closing his eyes.

"Oh no, none of that. Look at me, watch me," Robert chided, running his hand down to softly cup and lightly squeeze John's testes.

"Hngh!" John's eyes flashed open and he rolled his hips a little, as much as he could under Robert's weight. His hands gripped the bedsheets at his sides.

"There we go. That's it," Robert encouraged, his hands fondling John.

"Robert—" John's chest tightened. He felt like he couldn't breathe, like he couldn't do anything but feel this, feel his body respond and hate it, hate the man even more. "Just— s-slow down. Please."

"As you wish," Robert murmured. His hand slipped from John's penis and both suddenly were on John's testes, carefully massaging them, weighing them in his palms, tickling between them or rubbing just under them. Occasionally a hand slipped up to run up and down John's length or just the tip to wipe up any precome leaking out.

John could feel everything building. He squirmed more and clenched his teeth, pressing his lips shut. He would not shout. He would be silent, he would not wake Samantha up. He would endure this he would not throw up, damn it. He swallowed back another wave of anxiety as he got even closer and and closer and closer and then just as he was about to release, Robert got off him and his hands disappeared from his penis and testes, leaving John a panting, sweaty mess on the bed. John looked at him, confused and slightly relieved. "Wh-what?"

"Oh, you're so pretty like this." Robert scooted closer so he sat next to John's chest and reached over to tweak John's nipples, grinning when John's hips bucked. He leaned over the bed, grabbed a hand towel and wiped the sweat off John's chest, neck, and face, combed the hair out of John's eyes then straddled him again and wrapped the hand towel over John's penis and squeezed lightly, rubbing his hand over John's length and the towel, rumbling, rolling his hips. "Come," he snarled, "come into the towel, John. Come into the towel or I'll shove my cock inside you without any preparation." His hands were tight and hot, the towel soft and warmed by Robert's hands.

Pleasure swept over him, fast and brutal as he came with a strangled shout, barely managing to keep his lips shut as he jerked his hips and spurted into the hand towel, testes tightening and drawing up close to his penis, twitching and spasming as he came down, panting hard as his penis and the rest of him went limp and sank back into the bed.

"Next time don't close your mouth," Robert admonished, dropping the towel over the bed again. He rubbed and stroked John's thighs, crooning quietly, then got off him and pushed John onto his side. John winced as his penis brushed against the bedsheets. "I'm going to start prepping you," Robert murmured, kissing John's head then standing up, off the bed. "I'm just going to get the lube first, and a toy or two."

"Mmm," John mumbled, turning his face to the mattress. He breathed in slowly and exhaled, glad Robert hadn't made him lay on his stomach. Carefully, he opened his legs, wincing as he brushed against his penis. It took him somewhere around twenty minutes for the sensitivity of his penis to die down and another five to get hard again. He hoped Robert wouldn't want him to. But that was doubtful. He sighed and turned his head again and rested, listening to Robert rustle about in drawers behind him. The good thing was those rags. John loved those rags, needed those rags, would either steal them from Robert or figure out how to make them himself with tactile magic if they were too expensive to buy. The no mess after sex was one positive side to all of this. John shuddered, also grateful that Robert was taking time, probably thinking he was building up the suspense or some nonsense, about choosing what instruments or lubricant to use on John.

It didn't matter. It all boiled down to the same thing, anyway. At least John had been calm enough to avoid a panic attack and or throw up all over himself this time. He'd held it together pretty well, actually. John smiled a little. Good. He could do it again, then. He'd be fine. Then it would be over, and he could return to preparing the herbs for hanging and check on Sam.

He felt the bed dip and Robert crawl behind him. John couldn't tell if the man was kneeling or sitting. That didn't matter either. What did, however, was the hand on his hip. John tensed.

"Shh, it's just me, John. Don't worry." Robert chuckled. "Or perhaps do worry." He stroked John's side then ran a hand through John's hair. "I've got some fun things to play with this time around. You're in for a real treat. Honestly, you should consider yourself lucky. Some people pay to have this done to them and I'm giving it to you for free."

"Good for them," John snapped and grit his teeth. Maybe Robert would keep gloating and forget to do anything.

"Oh yes, they're lucky." Robert squeezed his hip then trailed his hands over John's back. "But not as lucky as I am," he rumbled. "Open your legs a bit more."

John moved one leg forward, glad that his penis was mostly recovered. Robert must have taken a longer time deciding on what to use than John thought. He felt Robert's finger slide along the crease of his butt and squirmed instinctively, trying to get away from the pirate's touch, only to have Robert's other hand hold his hip and do it again.

"Tsk," he said, whapping one of John's cheeks. "Don't do that again." Robert sighed. "You're still too tight like this. Roll onto your stomach."

"I'm too sensitive. Give me three more minutes. I'll sing for you."

"Mmm... I've got a better idea." Whap!

"Ah!" John jerked. The man had spanked him! Spanked him like John was a child caught stealing cookies before dinner.

Whap! Again and again. Whap, whap, whap! John jerked and cried out, his butt stinging and heating up as Robert kept slapping him. Did Robert get off on this? John grimaced and jerked again when Robert kept smacking him in swift, rhythmic motions, one hand holding John's hip in place. By the time Robert was finished and panting hard, John's butt felt like it was burning and he didn't protest or struggle when Robert turned John onto his stomach.

"How's that?" Robert asked sweetly, one finger trailing over John's butt.

John hissed. "Ow."

"Let me rephrase. How's your cock? Hard? Soft?"

John flushed. He squirmed a little bit and let out a small moan. He was already hardening. He froze, eyes closed, heart racing. No, no no no no no no. It was bad enough Robert enjoyed it. But why was he responding to it?

"That's what I thought," Robert purred. "You're into it." He squeezed both of John's buttcheeks and laughed when John yelped and bucked his hips.

"Mmm, yes. Rub into the sheets like a dirty schoolboy."

"Stop," he pleaded. "Stop, I can't, it's— I hate it. Please, just call it good." Bile had been rising slowly, faster now, after Robert had squeezed his ass like that. He swallowed hard, fighting against retching and forced himself to take a deep breath. Good. Better. He could do this and deal with the implications later. As long as he endured this, he'd be fine.

"Mmmm, like two little cherries," Robert mused, tracing his fingers over John's butt, chuckling when John moaned and squirmed. "And now, sweetheart, the real fun begins."