The Pirate King Ch. 02

He bucked against my arms and I let him pull away completely, watching him sit up in front of me. This distance between us immediately hurt, my body needing to be reminded again and again that it couldn't reach out and have him. I hid my hands under my legs so they wouldn't take their own actions.

"I shouldn't have pushed you," I continued. "I'm usually better at planning, at knowing the consequences of my actions, but lately things haven't been going so well." I looked at the bowed shoulder in front of me. "Somehow it seems to get worse around you."

He scoffed.

"I'm sorry," I said again.

The curls tilted back. "No, I should have had better control. You shouldn't have needed to do this."

"I didn't need to do anything. I just didn't want Cookie scared."

He processed that, maybe even heard me this time. "I scared Cookie," he repeated. I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "But not you?"

I let myself laugh, chuckling low and deep. "There is very little that scares me."

"You don't know me."

I wanted to wrap my arms around his waist at the sorrow I heard in his voice, as loosely as I could, touching as little of him as I could manage. Just hold him, just be around him. But he was too far away, and I knew he didn't want my touch, not any of it. I should have let him be, maybe. I should have just let him go. But I couldn't. "I'd like to."

"I could hurt you." He said it so seriously I laughed again. The sound made him turn to me, frowning, that brow furrowed so deeply.

I met his eyes with a smile. "I'd never let you do that." It was half a threat, half a promise, and I saw a shiver pass through him as the words reached him.

"I know he's here, cook," we suddenly heard, "so stand aside!"

I sighed and stood, expecting the Captain to do the same. Instead, he remained on the floor, head bowed.

The three men at the door immediately caught sight of me. It was hard not to; I stand out in a space so small. One I recognized, the man called Finn. One of the others was the scandinavian I'd carted on my back the first day I'd arrived. The last was a thin brunette, his close cropped hair making his forehead look massive. "You," he growled, pushing Cookie aside. He hit a table and cried out. I started forward, but the Captain grabbed by pant leg. I looked down at the shimmering shock he gave me and was met with a shaking head.

I heeded him. I had to.

"What have you done with the Captain, you scoundrel?"

"Treated him better than you just treated Cookie," I said flatly. His eyes narrowed. The Captain sighed.

I watched this thin man take in my massive frame, all my scars. I was intimidating, when I wanted to be. I was whatever I wanted to be, whenever I wanted to be. But this man worked under the Captain, and wasn't easily scared by men.

I thought briefly about how he might react to ghosts.

Suddenly, his eyes caught on the bruises on my neck. I watched them go wide.

"You fucking slut," he hissed, rushing towards me.

I couldn't hide the amazed gasp of laughter that accusation pushed from my throat. I readied myself to take this man down, feeling a sense of calm come over my being.

"Who do you think you are, coming here and taking him like that? You think I couldn't hear you fucking screaming all last night? My room is right next to his, I could hear all of your sick little moans, banging away at our -"

As he rounded the corner, he tripped over the Captain's strategically placed leg and went sprawling.

"Oh, hey Wicky," the Captain said drily. "Didn't notice you there." He stood, stepping carefully around his first mate's limbs and gestured for me to follow. We moved into the mess where the other two sailors looked positively sick.

"Cap," the scandinavian one tried, "we're here to take the -"

"No need," the Captain interrupted. "He'll continue to stay with me."

"But -"

"He can untie knots," he explained, "so he needs constant supervision."

"Cap," Finn's voice entered the space very carefully, "we have irons."

The Captain rolled his gaze over to the sailor. He shrunk beneath the icy expanse. "Finn, are you questioning me?"

He swallowed. "No, Cap."

"Good." He turned to me. At the sight of his face, my skin shivered with anticipation of the orders I knew he would give, even as my brain tried to stop it. "Walk."

But something held me back, despite my shivering body. "Can I check on Cookie first?"

I actually thought he might say no for a moment, so intense were his eyes. But he softened quickly, and sighed. "Of course. Go."

I made my way over to the stunned cook. "Hey. Are you okay?"

Cookie groaned and rubbed his back where he'd taken the hit. "Told you he wouldn't like you."

I smiled. "I had to leave him in your kitchen. Is that alright?"

He glanced over towards the doorframe. "Has to be, doesn't it?"

"No, Cookie." At the cold intensity in my voice, the cook looked back. "It doesn't."

I was still amped from thinking I was going to have to fight Wicky; the last traces of my intensity must have still dripped from my face. Cookie watched them fall and I could see him thinking, could actually watch him putting pieces together. "Holy moses," he breathed. He stared at me, a realization dawning on his face. I blinked in the face of it, not knowing quite what to expect. I'd told him enough that I really should have foreseen this, probably should have been preparing, but there had been a lot of other things on my mind. For a brief moment, I wondered if I had miscalculated. Then his face split into a massive smile. "It's you."

He looked me up and down for a bit, then reached out and began shaking my hand wildly. "Well," he said, grinning like an idiot. "They did say you were big."

I grinned back and pulled my hand away. The Captain was waiting.

As we walked away, I heard Cookie muttering to himself, "On my ship. In my kitchen."

"Don't smile," the Captain said. "You just made a powerful enemy. Means you're more than likely to be voted off at the next port, if they don't agree to just maroon you before then."

I shrugged. As if the ocean frightened me. "There's nowhere on the sea that you hide from me," I told him, a little giddy from our recent encounter. He gave me a funny look but didn't say anything more.

We got back to the bedroom and closed the door. He didn't lock it this time, just settled down at his desk to work on some paperwork. I sat on the bed.

"You brought me back here."

"Aye," he said, scratching at his paper.

"No ropes?"

He shrugged. "What's the point?"

You like it, I thought. I didn't say it. The Captain would not touch me again, and I knew it. It would be foolish to flirt.

"So all that time," he confirmed, putting down his quill, "you could have gotten out whenever you wanted."

"I told you. I was never a prisoner. And I would never let you hurt me."

Where before that had aroused a shiver, now his only reaction was a scoff.

"What?" I kept my voice soft in the face of his denial. "You don't believe me?"

"No, it's just." He shrugged. "You don't know what I'm capable of."

It was my turn to scoff. "What. Some bitemarks?"

He looked away.

"Look," I said, lifting my shirt so he could see. He didn't bring his gaze anywhere close to me, so I got up and walked over to him. I took his hand in mine, ignoring the small noise of protest he made. He needed to understand this, I told myself, pretending this had nothing to do with how my body ached to be near his. This was something he should know. Then I would let him be. "Feel. I'm alright. I promise you, you didn't hurt me. This isn't pain, not in the way you're thinking. I would never let anyone hurt me, not even you." His eyes traveled to mine at that. I held them steady. "I let you do this to me, whether you get that or not; I let you do this, because I enjoy it." He tugged at my grip and I let him pull away, reluctantly, conscious of how long our skin had been in contact. "I understand why you can't keep doing this. I don't like it, but I understand it. And I'm sorry that I keep pushing you, that I pressured you to do more than you wanted."

"Not more than I wanted," he corrected. "More than I should."

My stomach fluttered at that.

I sat beside him, then, so close together and yet worlds apart for a long time. What I wouldn't have given for our worlds to collide. Being so close to him was torture. I found that I couldn't look over to him for fear of my heart stopping, my desire was so bad. The room was a desert, and he was an oasis, one from which I had been banned to drink and felt as if I were slowly dying. Fuck, I could smell him, a heady scent that set my teeth on edge with desire and made my skin prickle. It was torture, and I wouldn't have it any other way. So when he suddenly spoke, it was as if the heavens opened and rain poured upon my face. I gulped at his words.

"I'm sorry for my first mate."

"Worse things have been said to me." It wasn't meant as a lie to make him feel better; the first mate's words had been nothing. I looked up to him and realized that he hadn't been writing for some time; his quill was dry in his hand.

"Especially," he continued as he turned to look at me, "since he lied."

Confused, I met his gaze found his eyes burning so intensely that I involuntarily pulled back. "What?"

He leaned on one arm, looking down at me. I shrunk under the ferocity of his inspection, yet felt my body inexplicably reacting, my skin flashing hot and cold, the flesh under my skin crawling with pleasure. "He said you screamed."

I didn't understand how he could keep his voice so steady when he was so obviously boiling over. His hand reached out and touched me and I flinched at the cacophony of sensation that simple gesture brought. My breath was fast, my heartrate faster.

He wrapped his hand around my chin and pulled, and I moved towards him because it was what he wanted, what I wanted. I felt his leg brush between mine and I gasped.

"You were so quiet last night," he whispered, moving his leg gently. He didn't have to excite me; I had been hard since his first touch. His hand found its way to my hair, guiding my head against the side of his leg. I panted against him, confused and shocked and wanting him, as he whispered, "I want to hear you scream."

"Wait," I managed, but the noise got lost in the creases of his body. I didn't understand what was happening, but my body was singing with it and that was all I could really ask for.

"Come to bed," he ordered. He hooked his fingers around the base of my jaw and stood, pulling me up.

"Wait," I said again, but I didn't mean it. I followed him as he walked backwards across the floor, our eyes locked. When he toppled into bed I fell on top of him.

I was so confused, so lost by his sudden transformation. He had said he couldn't have me; I had resigned myself to this. He guided my head into the crook of his neck and pressed against me and I forgot how to think.

With him, when I was with him, there was only need. I knew that it was wrong, that I was wrong for him and therefore this was wrong for me, but I couldn't help myself as he spidered his hand across my back. A moan escaped my lips as his body pushed against mine.

"Louder," he whispered. "I want to hear you."

Something managed to click in my foggy brain. I pulled back. "Wait, but your first mate. Isn't he..."

I saw the grin splashed across his face. "Yeah. He should be. Takes a nap right around this time every day."

"Hold on." I pushed away from him, tried my best to escape the pull he had enacted on me. I had a sinking feeling in my gut that I didn't love. "What is this about?"

He bit my ear and I almost collapsed back down. "Stop," I tried. "Wait... I thought you couldn't..." It was hard to think full thoughts with what he was doing to my body. In the back of my head, I heard Cookie's voice telling me how he commanded whores' loyalty. I tried to push that thought away.

"I'm the captain," he told me huskily.

"Exactly." I shoved away from him completely. "What the fuck is going on here?"

His eyes searched my face. "You want me, don't you?" I didn't know what to say. Of course I fucking wanted him. I watched a smile slid softly, hungrily across his muscles. "Well, I want you too."

My stomach dropped like I had leapt from the highest mast. I wondered, briefly if he would catch me before I shattered on the ground.

"This is the only way this can happen," he was continuing. "I can't have you, but the Captain can."

"What?" I was trying to pay attention, but it was hard with the way he was looking at me.

"As the captain." He was reaching for me now, his eyes hungry, his hands setting off fireworks against my skin, "it's my job to mete out justice."

I was letting him touch me, trying to focus through the things he was doing to me.

"What Wicky said to you. The things he said." He was so close to me again, his breath brushing against my skin. Goosebumps shivered all the way to my bones. "That can't stand. He needs to know his words have no effect, that I'm in charge."

This is about Wicky, I thought. This isn't about him wanting me at all. If I were anyone else, he would still do this. I felt my body stiffen at the realization and was surprised at how much it hurt.

I sat up to get away from him. "I'm a means to an end, then." He laid where I had left him, dark hair spilling out over the sheets. I didn't let myself look at him there, beautiful and perfect.

"I was just going to flog him, but he'd have to approve that." He spoke about it so casually, so flippantly, the words drifting up to me where I sat. I faced away from him. "Then I thought about assigning him to deck duty for a week. But this is better. " He sat up and put his arms around my shoulders, pressed his lips to my ear. "Scream," he whispered. "Shout. Do what you need to do. I want him to hear you." His hands were at my waist, working on getting my pants loosened. "What better poetic justice is that?"

"You're using me to get to him."

I felt him smirk against my skin. "I thought you were okay with being used."

I didn't say anything to that, just explored the strange depth of emotion that was opening up within me.

"This is what you wanted," he told me, and I wanted to cry as he pulled me onto the bed. It felt like he was ripping me in two. "Isn't it?"

Wasn't it? I'd wanted him to touch me, and here he was, touching me. I'd wanted him to want me, and he wanted me. Wanted something from me, at least. Wasn't that enough?

"No," I told him quietly, but my word was lost as my traitorous body pressed against him and he moaned. I hated myself, hated my insatiable flesh. I had wanted him, and here he was. Why wasn't I happy?

I didn't understand yet that it wasn't my body but my soul that yearned for him, and that nothing would be enough until he gave himself to me the way I had already given myself so foolishly and completely to him.

At the time, however, all I knew was the crashing desire that gripped me as he took my body in his arms. "What do you need from me, Captain?" I heard myself ask, and hated how my body gave to him before his gentle hands. I gasped as he slid his hand into my pants, found my cock hard and erect in his grasp.

"You," he told me firmly, "call me sir."

I felt my body curl as he rubbed the top of my cock. "Yes, sir," I managed raggedly, and he rewarded me with a bite to the soft spot between my neck and shoulder, and I collapsed fully into submission.

"You need to tell me," he said as he climbed on top of me, his voice shaky, "all the things that drive you nuts. I want to know everything, everything I can do to make you scream. You stoic, quiet man, I will make you mine, I will turn you into a quivering, moaning mess. Okay?"

I nodded.

"I asked, okay?"

"Yes, sir," I gasped, my mind numb with desire. I know he could feel what he was doing to me, how much I trembled above him, how hard I was under his hand.

"And sailor," he told me, grabbing my chin so hard it hurt. "Don't you dare come until I tell you to."

I almost came just at that, at the order, at the way he grabbed me, but I managed to voice, "Yes sir," so breathlessly that he laughed. He pushed me back, not giving me a chance to breathe before he was on top of me kissing me so fiercely I almost lost myself.

Finally he let me be, taking a moment to take off his shirt. I cursed to see his beautiful bare skin in the daytime, a gift to my eyes that was cut short when he pulled my lips back to his.

"What," he asked me in between bites and kissed of my cheekbone and ear, "do you want me to do to you?"

"Fuck," I cursed as he hit a sweet spot, writhing in pleasure. There weren't many other words in my head.

"You want me to fuck you?" He bit my ear and I collapsed inward, nodding furiously. "Say it."

I tried, I really did, but he was licking my ear and the only thing coming from my lips were rapturous moans.

"Say, please fuck me, sir."

"Please, sir," I managed before I dissolved again at the touch of his fingers to my asshole. When had he gotten down there? "Sir, please, fuck."

"Good enough," he murmured, his face in my hipbone. He was everywhere, everywhere at once, his fingers soothing as his lips ignited. I had a break, just for a moment, while he stripped of his pants. Then he was back, biting and kissing and naked. He pulled my pants the rest of the way off and stopped for moment. I thought he was just waiting, just teasing, but the moment went too long. I lifted my head and found him staring at the handmarks from last night. They stood out starkly, green-yellow against my scarred skin. It was the first time I had seen him lessen since he'd started this crusade against Wicky, and it broke my heart.

"Hey," I started.

"Quiet." He leaned down and kissed each bruise once, so gently I could barely feel his lips. He rested his head against my inner thigh for a moment, his eyes closed, his face still. Then he took a deep breath and looked down at me.

"How 'bout we try something a little different this time," he asked me huskily.

"Whatever you want," I responded, quietly, careful of the emotion in his voice.

"Whatever you want, sir," he snapped back, and my core shivered as parts of me gave to him yet again.

He guided me through flipping over, put me on my knees and spread my legs. The jar of lube was right where he had left it the night before, and he grabbed it.

"Sir," I said breathily. He stopped, just about to press lube to my body. I wondered if he was worried. I wondered if he was annoyed. I didn't care; I needed this. If he was going to use me, I was going to take advantage to the fullest. "Sir, please tie me up."

There was a moment, then he pressed his lubed fingers deep inside my ass and I cried out with pleasure, my hands becoming fists around the sheets on the bed.

"Your wish," he told me, biting the divot just above my ass where my spine ended, making me almost collapse as mind-numbing waves of sensation rolled up my body, "is my command."

He found rope and bound my hands and feet, kissing me all the while, enjoying himself, enjoying how long it took him. He knew I was dying for him. I begged him to hurry, but he would have none of it. He stopped between my two hands and took my chin in his fingers.

"What's wrong?" he asked, smirk hiding behind his eyes, cock dangerously close to my face.

"Fuck, sir, I need you," but I had only gotten halfway through my plea before he was gone.

"Fuck," I called, and he bit my ankle in reply.

By the time he returned to kneel behind me I was shaking with anticipation. He kept me waiting, playing with me with lubed fingers, enjoying my moans and curses. Eventually I couldn't take it anymore. "Please sir, I'm going to -"