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wanderingsoul
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Re: The Captain's Favor
Devereaux paused, his arm raised in the air, as the captain burst from his cabin. He could hear the silence as it fell around him, as if every man on board the ship suddenly held his breath. He glanced at the captain and then back at the boy. The boy hung motionless against the mast. He felt a sudden cold seep into him. He knew the captain, better than any other. And there would be hell to pay if he had, in fact, killed the boy.
But as the captain approached, Devereaux noticed the bulging in his breeches that was still evident. And he noticed that the captain looked at the boy, not at him first, but at the boy. He lowered his arm and let the cat rip into the boy’s skin once again, one lash catching his left cheek for the second time.
“As ye can see, cap’n, the smile be wiped from ‘is face,” he all but hissed as he brought the whip back to his side. “Will ye be wantin’ ‘im brought t’ yer cabin now?”
Thorne glared at Devereaux and moved to stand next to the mast. He reached down and grabbed a handful of the boy’s hair and raised his head. He could see his lips fluttering slightly as breath moved between them, which was confirmed by a movement of his chest. He could also see the deep lash marks on the boy’s cheeks, cheeks that were now very pale except for the blood. He let go and the boy’s head fell back down.
He glanced at Ames and gave a short nod. Ames and one of the other crew members immediately stepped forward and began to release the boy from the mast. Captain Thorne walked slowly toward Devereaux, his eyes meeting those of his First Mate. A slight smile played about his lips, one that did not meet his eyes.
“Yes, the smile is indeed wiped off his face,” he said pleasantly. He could feel the tension in the crew, increased by the pleasant tone of his voice, not relieved. And he could see Devereaux tense as well, though to his credit, he did not step back. Even as the back of his fist wiped across his face, sending his head twisting to one side, he did not take a step back. It was the one thing Thorne had always liked about Devereaux. He did not back down, and he would take his punishment in silence, if it were a just one. And Devereaux knew, he could see it in his eyes that he knew he had earned that blow.
“As is yours.” Thorne ran a finger over Devereaux’s lip, wiping away the blood. “But we have a problem, my friend.” He ran his hand over the front of his breeches, and his **** started to throb against his hand. “I had plans for the boy. And while I may still pound his ass while he is unconscious, I had rather thought to have his pretty lips wrapped around my **** first.”
A sound much like a collective snicker rippled through the crew. He reached out and grabbed Devereaux by his hair and forced him to his knees. His eyes hardened, as did his ****. He undid his breeches with his other hand and freed his ****, which was now inches away from Devereaux’s face.
“Fix that problem, and fix it well or you will find yourself tied to the mast and your whip in my hand. And I am not nearly as skillful as you, my dear Devereaux. I might not have quite the…finesse…to keep you alive.”
Devereaux looked up at the captain. It wasn’t the first time their foreplay had been rough, and his own body responded to that—but he fought the urge to reach down and stroke his own hardening ****. It was meant to be punishment, and the captain had never punished him in front of the crew. He wasn’t sure whether he was supposed to feel ashamed or aroused by this, but he was definitely aroused. His lips parted instinctively and the captain thrust his head down, forcing his **** deep into his mouth. He couldn’t control the moan that rose to his lips as the taste of his captain touched his tongue.
Captain Thorne pulled Devereaux’s head up, pulling it nearly off of his ****, then forced it back down. He could hear the crew shifting uncomfortably and knew most were imagining Devereaux’s lips on their ****s instead of his. They had been at sea a fairly long time and it wasn’t likely many had had their turn at their latest prize yet. Even those who had no taste for another man would not be immune to the suggestion of a warm mouth. And if truth were told, Devereaux had as much skill with his mouth as he did with his whip.
But it was not a skill Thorne was in the mood to appreciate. Devereaux’s hot mouth and hungry tongue irritated him more than it aroused him and he released his hair and pushed him away with his boot.
“You’re losing your touch, Devereaux. I would rather be licked by a dog.” His lips curled as he refastened his breeches and strode toward his cabin. The expression of shock and humiliation on Devereaux’s face was almost—almost—worth the loss of any chance of having the boy’s soft lips wrapped around his **** this evening.
Ames was about ready to douse the boy’s back with sea water when he reached his cabin. “No!” he spoke sharply. “Go get the salt instead. He is of no use to me if he becomes infected and feverish.” Ames hurried from the cabin.
Thorne knelt beside the boy, who was lying face down on the floor of his cabin. The fresh cuts and welts were livid and he winced for the boy. But Thorne could see by the scars that lay beneath the new damage that he had endured at least as much before. He ran his finger over some of those old scars. Some were older than others, flat, nearly faded. Others were still raised, some even still pink. No, the boy was no stranger to the lash.
He picked the boy up and laid him upon his bed. The boy moaned slightly, the first sound he had heard the boy make since the first lash had touched his skin. And it gave evidence of how deeply unconscious the boy was, and how very likely close to death he was also—for he felt certain that the boy buried his pain very deeply.
He took his handkerchief and pressed it against the boy’s cheek. The cuts on his cheek were deep and would leave scars, scars that would make him much less pretty. He turned his head gently and pressed his handkerchief against his other cheek. But they would not destroy his beauty.
Ames returned quickly with the salt. He moved to pour it out onto the boy’s back, but the captain grabbed his wrist. “No, leave it with me.”
Ames looked at the captain curiously for a moment, but said nothing. The captain was in a rare mood and he would hesitate to question him even on a good day. “Aye, cap’n,” he said respectfully and quietly left the cabin.
Captain Thorne stood looking down at the boy for a moment. He ran a hand over the front of his breeches and groaned softly. His need was still hungry. But despite what he had said to Devereaux about pounding his ass while he was unconscious, that was not something he would even consider. He wanted the boy warm and responsive, wanted to hear the cries of pleasure and pain—and he would enjoy forcing those cries from his lips if necessary. He didn’t want to take his pleasure of a corpse—even one who was still breathing.
But he would at least allow his eyes the pleasure of the boy’s flesh. He set the bag of salt down on the table next to the bed and began to remove the remainder of the boy’s clothes. He caught his breath as he removed the boy’s breeches and small clothes. His back might bear the scars of numerous brushes with the lash, but his ass was as smooth and unblemished as a woman’s—and seemed even softer to the touch. He ran both his hands over the boy’s ass, closing his eyes and letting the feeling of his skin sink into his hands and drift through his body.
He ran his hands slowly down the boys legs, feeling the lean strength in the muscles at the back of his thighs and in his calves.
He shook his head and stood up, running his hand firmly over the front of his breeches, groaning a little more loudly as he did so. He was unbelievably hard now, hard enough that he considered—for a moment—ordering Devereaux to his cabin. But instead he opened the bag of salt and poured some into his hand. Pure salt was a scarce commodity at sea. But Thorne had enough experience with the lash—and the fever of infection—to know it was the best thing for an open wound, if also the most painful. It was good the boy was unconscious.
He sprinkled the salt liberally over the boy’s wounds, being especially careful with the ones on his face. He frowned slightly. There was no help for it, it would have to be rubbed into the wounds as well, not just laid upon them, if it was to do the most good. And while the salt itself would sting, the rubbing would burn like the fires of hell. Again, he thought it was good the boy was unconscious.
He began rubbing the salt gently into the cat’s gashes. The boy stirred slightly, an audible breath passing his lips. The sound went straight to his ****. He closed his eyes and ran his hands over the boys back, a little less gently this time, and was rewarded with another sound, a little more audible, but still nothing more than a breath, nothing like a moan or even a whimper. Thorne groaned and undid his breeches and let his **** break free. He took a deep breath and wiped one of his hands on his breeches, wiping off all traces of the salt and the blood before wrapping his hand around his **** and giving it several long, slow strokes.
He pushed the boys legs apart slightly and knelt between them. He wouldn’t take the boy, but he would let the boy’s flesh tease him, let it rub against his **** until he could find his own release. That he would do. He rubbed his **** over the boy’s ass, rubbing his back, rubbing the salt more deeply into the wounds as he did so. The boy stirred again, turning his head to the other side, a sound a little closer to a moan slipping from between his parted lips.
Thorne moaned in response as his entire body warmed from that small sound. It took all of his resolve not to plunge his **** deep into the boy’s beautiful ass and **** what life remained in him right out of him. Instead, he removed his jacket and tossed it over the chair by his desk. Then he removed his shirt and tossed it there, as well. He leaned forward a little, rubbing his **** between the boy’s cheeks, moaning softly as his **** teased his entrance—or rather, as the boy’s entrance teased his ****. And he was surprised to hear an answering moan from the boy. And there was no mistaking—it was not a moan of pain.
Captain Matthew Thorne had a great deal of self-control, more than most men. But he was not made of stone. But still he did not thrust his throbbing **** into the boy, instead he ran his hands up the boys back and to his shoulders, rubbing the salt more deeply into the slashes as he pressed himself completely against the boy, his chest to his back, knowing the heat of his body would intensify the heat of the salt, knowing that if the boy could feel anything at all—which he apparently could, if that moan had been any indication—it would feel as if his back had been set afire.
“Can you feel that, my lad?” He whispered into the boys ear as he rubbed his chest against his back, rubbing his **** against his ass at the same time.
The boy responded again, but not with the cry—or at least murmur—of pain that he had expected, but with the same soft moan that had betrayed him a moment ago. Thorne chuckled softly in the boy’s ear. “You like the pain as much as the pleasure, don’t you boy? And you’re barely alive as it is, barely able to feel…”
He pulled back, rubbing his chest over his back again as he positioned the head of his **** against the boy’s entrance. He felt the boy raise his hips slightly, and knew it was an instinctive response, he could feel that, could feel that there was no conscious effort being made by the boy. He chucked softly again. Doubtless the boy had known the hard pounding of a stiff **** in his ass at least as many times as he had known the sharp sting of the lash.
And that thought pushed Thorne over the edge of his self-control. With a movement that was anything but gentle, he pushed his **** into the boy’s ass, burying himself fully in the tight heat—as he rubbed his chest hard against the boy’s back. He could feel every muscle in the boy’s body tense. “Did you feel that, boy?” He pulled back and repeated the motion, thrusting a little harder this time, rubbing his chest a little harder against the boy’s open wounds. “How about that, my lad?” He heard the boy take a sharp breath, but no other sound passed his lips.
“Come on, lad, I know you’re awake now,” he spoke against the boy’s ear, his voice soft and coaxing, but with a harsh edge that would have made Devereaux squirm with anticipation. And he did know the boy was awake. He could feel the change in the boy’s breathing, could feel his muscles tightening.
He repeated his thrusting, rubbing, thrusting rubbing several times, each time a little harder and a little faster than the last. His fingers gripped the boy’s shoulders tightly. “Come on, lad, I know it’s what you like.” And it was what he liked, as well. Pleasure on the edge of pain; pain that sharpened the pleasure, pleasure that sweetened the pain.
Last edited by wanderingsoul, 3/6/2005, 8:12 am
---
And by and by my Soul returned to me, And answered "I Myself amd Heav'n and Hell"
Omar Khayyam
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3/6/2005, 7:57 am
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MarkL15
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Re: The Captain's Favor
Seth felt as though he was floating, beautiful pain laced with arousal ran through his body as he dreamed. He knew on some level he was dreaming that he needed to pull his mind from this state of sleep, yet the more he tried to wake his mind the more it fell into the darkness. His mind played over fantasies and he watched as a version of him was tied by chains to a wall and whipped by a creature that many would call the devil. He felt those lashes burn his own back and felt himself harden at the sight, as the lashes struck his back a trail of fire was left behind to burn for a few moments before fading out.
The need to stroke his **** intensified but even though he was merely watching himself be whipped he was unable to move his own hand to the place that required attention. He felt a drunken grin fall on his lips as the world around him shifted and he was now watching himself kneeling on a beach. He again told himself he was dreaming but it didn't help, everything felt to real. He watched the blood run down his own back and in the same instance was inside that body looking at a dark tall figure.
He watched as his body fell forward and lay on the soft sand, causing ever bone in his body to relax, yet he was also inside that body, feeling the sand against his face, stinging those open wounds caused by the lash. He no longer watched himself he was now trapped inside his own body and could now feel the dark figure removing the rest of his clothes.
Seth felt his head swim with arousal mixed with the heavy feeling that clouded his mind when drunk. He could feel hands on him, could feel them against his ass, hungrily touching the soft skin. On some level his mind argued that this was not just a dream, the touch was too intense to be just a dream. Still he argued in his mind that it could be just a dream, he tried to recall where he was before dreams had took over him and felt his mind cloud over again.
The floating feeling once again took over his mind and the burning on his back that had been arousing was starting to irritate him. He was not sure what it was he needed, but he wished he was able to run his back against the pine tree he had seen on the beach. He wanted to rid himself of the burning itching as much as he wanted to relieve his aching ****.
Then he felt hands, warm strong hands rubbing what felt like sand into his wounds. He released a breath as the sand burned in his wounds, and for a moment the beach flickered around him and he was in a warm room with a strong smell of brandy and another man surrounding his senses. Then he was back on the beach feeling that heavy feeling cloud his mind, but this time it did not feel as heavy as before and the smell of brandy lingered with him. The dark tall figure also looked familiar, those hand rubbed the sand into his wounds once again and he was once again in that warm room. He could smell the other man, behind him, and breathed him in taking that smell back with him as his mind once again sank under.
His back was now on fire as he lay against the sand, his mind floating slightly but the pain running through him was pushing away the heavy cloud over his mind. But he still could not make sense of anything, his mind was between dreams and being awake and it was confusing. Though the feeling of the mans **** rubbing against his ass pushed all thought from his mind. His body responded to the man and he let out a moan as the heat ran from his back to the rest of his body, causing his **** to harden further.
He wanted to remember who this man was and he pushed away the blackness wanting to consume his mind and that **** against his ass pushed harder against him. He wanted this man he knew that much and wondered why the man had not taken him yet. Seth felt some irritation as he tried to move his body, wanting to rub his ass over that **** and invite it inside of him. But his mind may be fighting the heavy darkness but his body felt like a dead weight one he had no control over. He let out another moan as that **** teased his entrance and wanted to beg this man to take him hard. Seth needed to feel a **** inside him, the pain needed to be balanced he wanted that hard **** inside him but all he could do was moan.
The mans chest pressed against his wounded back and he was reminded of a man from his past, Andre had always done that, but this was not Andre. He was sure about that even though he did not know why, then he heard a voice, a deep warm voice that was laced with arousal. For a moment a flash of a dark haired captain ran through his mind, causing his body to shiver slightly. That voice had gone straight to his **** even though he could not make out the words and he wanted this man more than he had ever wanted any other.
Seth's mind was stuck between being awake and unconscious, but that voice pulled him closer to the waking world, setting his body on fire. That is when he felt the man moving above him and he knew what he was doing, his body reacted without much thought. He had learnt to raise his hips to welcome a **** long ago and it had become instinctive to him. He was between worlds now, half floating between the two, wanting to wake, to enjoy this, the **** against his entrance felt hard and he was sure it was big enough to cause as much pain as pleasure. Another shiver ran through him, despite the fact that painful fire and arousal ran through him heating his body.
The feeling of that hard **** forcing its way inside of him, pulled him completely from the dream world and his body cried out in painful pleasure but he bit his lip and help back the cry he wanted to let out. His mind was flooded with his lost memory as the captain withdrew before thrusting deep inside him again. He knew it was the captain, before the man spoke, knew that was his toned tanned body pressing against his back, knew it was his hard aching **** abusing his tight hole.
Seth wanted to moan to thrust his body back to beg for it to be harder and deeper to beg the captain to **** him and never stop, to take him over and over. His **** ached painfully and he wanted to stroke his **** as the captain ****ed him hard into this soft bed. But he only allowed himself to take in a sharp breath to regain control over his emotions that wanted to scream and beg and moan for more. He also found he could not move, he had little control over his body, so he was to just lay there at the mercy of the captain.
That thought alone almost dragged a groan from his lips, despite being the one who was nearly always ****ed Seth always had some control over things. That helped to keep his emotions under control and stopped him shouting out at every thrust in his ass. The words from the captain made his breath speed up, he knew he was awake and knew what he liked, he knew too much, still there was no way to stop the captain, not that he would if he could.
The thrusts inside of him were getting faster and deeper making his whole body heat up, the intensity was making his head swim. The pain that ran through his body as the captains chest rubbed against him added to the intense feeling and he just let himself get lost in the feeling. Every nerve in his body was alive and the pleasure mixed with the pain was almost too much, this is what he loved and felt a smiles on his lips. He loved losing himself to the painful pleasure and it had been too long since the last time. The hand that gripped his shoulders tonight showing him the captain was not as controlled as he was trying to seem, this made his smile grow and he wanted to push the captain further. But his body would not respond and all he could do was lose himself in this captain, he wanted to keep quiet but as the captain spoke he could not hold back no matter how hard he bit into his lip. He let out a deep groan as the captains hard **** thrust deep inside of him and could only manage a single word, his voice harsh and rough.
"Harder"
---
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
Goo Goo Dolls - iris
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3/8/2005, 1:04 pm
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wanderingsoul
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Re: The Captain's Favor
Thorne felt every muscle in his body contract in a wave, one following the other, as the boy uttered the single word. “Harder, you say?” His own voice as harsh and as rough as the boy’s. He pulled back, withdrawing his throbbing **** completely, pausing for a brief moment of anticipation before plunging himself into the boy’s tight ass with every ounce of force he could manage. He heard a deep moan as he felt the boy’s heat tighten around him—and realized it had come from his own lips.
“Is that hard enough for you, lad?” he asked through gritted teeth as he pulled out of him again, pausing for the same brief moment, letting the anticipation of plunging his hard **** deeply into the boy build—for himself as well as for the boy. He closed his eyes and slammed his **** into the boy, gasping as the force of his thrust vibrated through his own body.
“Harder, Lad? Do you want it harder still?” He could barely get the words out, his breath was so short and his muscles so tight from holding himself back.
---
And by and by my Soul returned to me, And answered "I Myself amd Heav'n and Hell"
Omar Khayyam
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3/17/2005, 4:48 am
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MarkL15
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Re: The Captain's Favor
Seth knew his plea had hit right with the man above him, he wanted to smirk as he heard how much his plea had affected the captain, but he felt unable to move and the pleasurable pain was driving him insane, he needed to be pounded into by the man above him, his thrusts were wonderful and they struck right each time but the were too controlled too held back.
The captain was a man that needed to be pushed past his self control and Seth was determined to do that, he needed to do that, to feel the thick **** inside of him pound so hard into him it would make him almost black out from the pleasure.
The rough tone to the mans voice sent a shiver down his spine, he still sounded controlled, but the tone was laced with a deep edge that made Seth's **** ache. This man inside him held a lot back, but would be dangerous if Seth could push him enough to lose control, the thought came as the man drove into him after a long pause, dragging a deep groan from his throat.
His whole body was reacting to the slow torturous thrusts and the harsh words, but mostly the though of having the captain completely unleashed on his body that was unable to fight anything the captain wanted. He doubted he would unless he wished to tease the captain further, make his punishments hurt more, but for now he was helpless, he could barely speak and thrusting his hips back was difficult.
The captain spoke again, almost growling the words out, they spoke straight to his ****, which painfully ached, he wanted to answer the man tell him that no it wasn't hard enough that he wanted to be pounded into the soft bed till he lost consciousness, but no words formed in his throat. His whole body was waiting for that large **** to thrust inside him and when it finally did, hard and deep he felt the pulse of pleasure mix with the pain rushing through his body which was on fire making him moan into the soft bed trying to push back against the **** deep inside him.
The next words spoken undid him and he heard a needful whimper sound in his throat and he breathed hard through his lips trying to find the words.
"Please"
He could not find the words to say what he needed, just hoped his words he did manage said it all.
"Harder, please Captain"
---
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
Goo Goo Dolls - iris
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3/29/2005, 2:34 pm
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wanderingsoul
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Re: The Captain's Favor
He could hear it in the boy’s voice, which was not much more than a hard breath. But he could hear it, the breaking of the threads as the boy’s need pulled harder than his will. And a great shudder ran through his body as his own control broke. The sound that came from his lips was as much a cry of anger as it was of desire.
“Damn you, boy!” he growled as he thrust his **** into the boy once again, with all the force he could manage, “I’ll split ye’ in two before I’ve done with ye!”
He gripped the boy’s shoulder with one hand, pulling him up enough to make his back arch as he grabbed the boy’s hip with his other hand. He thrust hard into the boy’s ass, again and again, punishing the boy with his ****, punishing him for reminding him of his dissatisfaction, punishing him for making him lose his hold on himself.
And again a great shudder ran through him, as one by one every muscle in his body released its tension until with a groan so rough that it hurt as it rumbled from his throat and through his lips he came deep inside the boy’s hot, throbbing ass.
His fingers did not release the boy’s shoulder or his hips, but held them tightly still. He leaned forward and rubbed his chest slowly over the boy’s raw back, his breath hot against the back of the boy’s neck. “I should have had Devereaux toss you over the side, boy.”
He pushed the boy roughly down on the bed as he pulled himself from him and stood up. “Would have been much less trouble for the both of us.”
---
And by and by my Soul returned to me, And answered "I Myself amd Heav'n and Hell"
Omar Khayyam
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1/20/2006, 6:29 am
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MarkL15
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Re: The Captain's Favor
The cry that fell from the captains lips sent shivers rippling down his spine, Seth desperately wanted to raise his hips to thrust himself backwards on the **** inside of him. He still felt unable to move but the desire was still there. The captains growl almost undid him and caught him off guard as did the harsh heated words which left Seth gasping for breath as the wave of desire and pleasure hit his body, making him shake with need.
He wanted to cry out to beg and to tell the captain to **** him until he was split in two , that he didn’t care that he wanted that. Each thought would normally be rolling of his tongue, but he could barely breathe let alone talk. His **** throbbed painfully as he was suddenly pulled up and he wished once again that he could relieve the ache. He had little time to dwell on that need as the thrusts inside him changed, he felt the darkness come back with the first few thrusts, intense thrusts that made him dizzy and almost sent his spiralling back in to unconsciousness.
Seth focused on the man behind him to avoid blacking out from the overwhelming pleasure and pain, he had certainly pushed the captain over the edge. Each thrust was filled with a mixture of anger and desire. Later Seth would contemplate where the anger came from but for now it was all he could do to keep himself from blacking out.
It was the hardest Seth had ever been taken despite all his previous lovers need to dominate they lacked this anger. He could not think past the feelings surrounding him and invading him, punishing him, pushing him to the edge. It was that deep groan from the man behind him that undid Seth, he felt every nerve in him respond to the groan, moments before his **** released, drawing a deep groan from within, all without h is **** even being touched.
The warm satisfied feeling began to wrap around him and he almost settled into that feeling but hissed as the captain rubbed his chest over his painful back. The words he heard cut any protest he was about to make dead and he felt the familiar sinking feeling he always felt, no matter who he ****ed or was ****ed by. Once it was over the empty feeling returned.
He made no protest about being pushed roughly onto the bed, he was too tired and in too much pain to do anything other than sink into the softness beneath him. He had often been pushed aside after the act and had even been the one to push others aside, still it didn’t take away the emptiness he felt each time. Usually he had the advantage of taking pleasure in humiliating the person or killing them and that replaced the empty feeling but for now he just felt empty and almost let himself sink into the darkness that pulled at him, but then he heard moor words and smiled.
He invited trouble and would have said so with a smirk if he was more able, so he settled for turning his head and smiling at the captain, a soft tired smile he never revelled and spoke to the captain in a tired distant voice.
“You may be right about that. But then what would be the fun in doing the right thing.”
Seth felt his eyes droop and managed to rub his hand over his eyes in an attempt to wipe away the tired feeling. He grimaced as moving had resulted in pain but he still tried to move, he needed to know where he would be sleeping and wanted to ask where he should go but he fell back down.
“perhaps I can sleep a while here before moving elsewhere?”
It had been a question, one that Seth would not remember and would not hear the answer too as he had already slipped into a deep sleep.
---
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
Goo Goo Dolls - iris
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1/21/2006, 4:00 am
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wanderingsoul
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Re: The Captain's Favor
Thorne looked down at the boy and was torn between a desire to wipe the insolent words from the boy’s lips and a desire to laugh out loud. The lad had to be in white hot pain, but still he managed a bold comeback and a smile.
And it was that smile that kept him from doing either thing. He was quite sure the boy meant it to be as bold and insolent as his words, but all he had managed was a soft, satisfied look of a cat who had just had his fill of cream.
“And where do you think I’d be moving ye to, lad? I doubt ye’d fancy sharing a bunk with my Devereaux. He’d slit your throat before your pretty head could touch down.” He could see that the boy was beyond hearing anything he was saying. “Or ye’d slit his if ye had the chance, I’ll wager.”
He reached for his shirt and wiped himself off. He had as much of the boy’s blood on himself as the boy had on him. He tossed the soiled shirt aside and opened the top drawer of the cabinet and withdrew a small porcelain jar. He removed the lid and frowned. There wasn’t much of the foul-smelling salve left. He’d have to see Babette when they arrived in port. He grimaced a little. She would expect a great deal more than money in exchange for another jar or two of her healing salve. Not that bedding her was an unpleasant prospect; she was as pretty and as buxom as the wench he had tossed to his crew, but with much more substance behind her eyes. But she was a whore, as much as any other woman—or man, for that matter. And not completely to his taste. But as with anything else in this world, one thing would be bartered for another.
He walked back to his bed and stood looking down at the boy for a moment. He had seen worse lash wounds. Though he was impressed anew by Devereaux’s skill with the cat. Any less skill and the lad would be dead now instead of unconscious on his bed. But the wounds on his back would heal without the salve. They would leave deep scars, but the boy’s skin was already well scarred. Nothing would be gained in wasting the salve there. He looked at the boy’s exposed cheek. The lash mark ran right along the curve of his cheek. It had been delivered with a masterful stroke. Cut just deeply enough to scar, but not, thankfully, deeply enough to require a stitching. But it would scar, even with the salve. But not as badly.
“Ye’ll still look good enough, lad,” he said quietly as he covered the cut with the salve. He could see the boy’s nose wrinkle slightly and he laughed. “Aye, ye’d have to be dead not to smell that, lad.”
He raised the boy up slightly and turned his head in the other direction. He frowned as he saw the two lash marks on the boy’s left cheek. They were deeper and should rightly be stitched. But the supplies for such things had long since run out. They had been to sea a long time and had been engaged with no less than three ships of the realm. Ames had earned his extra pay as ship’s doctor. There was nary a man among them who had not sustained at least one wound. He, himself, had taken a ball in the thigh. But it had only been a flesh wound and had required nothing more than Babette’s salve.
“Aye, lad, these’ll take the pretty from your face.” His voice was tight and his fingers clenched around the little porcelain jar. He let his breath out on a sigh as his fingers brushed along the smooth skin where the cat had not slashed. “And that’s a shame, lad, a shame.” He smoothed some salve over the deep cuts as gently as he could. “But you’ll still be a rare eyeful an’ that.”
He stood up and replaced the porcelain jar in the cabinet. He took out the crystal decanter and raised it to his lips. Fine French brandy, and he was swilling it like common rum. He leaned against the cabinet and watched the boy as he slept. He ran his hand over the front of his breeches. “Aye, lad, you’ll be trouble, I’ve no doubt about that.”
---
And by and by my Soul returned to me, And answered "I Myself amd Heav'n and Hell"
Omar Khayyam
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1/21/2006, 6:56 am
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MarkL15
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Re: The Captain's Favor
Seth was back on that beach again, he could feel the sun burning into his back but it was no longer the warm pleasant feeling, it was painful He realised he must be burnt on his back and cheeks, they were so painful and sore he wanted to move to find shade. He found moving nearly impossible and thought that maybe the rest of him was burning too under the bright sun as his skin felt hot and prickly and his mouth was dry and tasted of saltwater.
He smiled as he sensed that familiar figure returning he hoped that he had something to help with the burning, his cheeks were especially painful. He wanted to tell the man so close to him what he needed but found his body refused to move as did his tongue that was starting to feel too big for his mouth. He smelt the salve before he felt it and wrinkled his nose, it was the foulest smelling stuff he had ever smelt and he wanted to protest that there was no way that stuff was going near his skin. He stopped trying to find the words as he felt the salve sooth the painful burning sensation that stung so much. He didn’t protest as his other cheek was treated to the same foul smelling stuff, not that he thought he could ld if he wanted too. Sleep felt close now and he sunk further into the darkness unable to resist, knowing he was safe to sleep for now.
It felt much later when he woke and knew the man was no longer close and the sun had settled a little and no longer shone so bright. Yet his skin burned more than before and felt irritated and as though every part of his burnt skin had sand rubbing against it. He wondered when he had last had anything to drink and hoped he had not had the sea water but suspected he did because of the taste of salt in his dry mouth. In his sleep filled mind the desire for water forced him to move causing searing pain to ripple through his back and the rest of him too forcing a groan of pain past his lips.
It was the pain that drew him sharply from his deep sleep back into the dimly lit room that smelt heavily of sex, sweat and the handsome captain sleeping in the chair. The earlier encounter with the captain re visited Seth’s mind shooting pleasure right through his body and making him shiver. It was not a cold shiver yet now he realised he was cold, despite the fact his skin was burning . He recognised the feeling, he often ran a fever after being whipped but his skin had never burnt so much.
Despite the feeling Seth forced himself to push up on his arms, his head swam and his back ached and burned but he was more awake now and able to get control of what he let pass his lips. He still felt weak though and hated that feeling, he had always managed to carry himself from Andres bed before he would wake no matter how much pain he was in. It was an unspoken agreement between them, he would not linger and Andre would not face the reality of what he did to the stable boy at night. It also prevented any further feeling developing between them, or so they had thought.
He glanced at the captain and knew he was most likely already aware that Seth was moving, but he felt unable to ask to see if the captain would bring him some water. His mouth felt too dry as did his throat and something more stopped him, he would get out of the bed even if it killed him.
It never occurred to him that he wasn’t able to move far in his condition he was just focused on what he needed to do and right now it was to drink as much water as he could lay his shaky hands on. After that he didn’t know or much care, it was the deep desire for water that made him push his legs over the side of the bed, his knees connected painfully with the floor as he rested his chest and head across the bed feeling a wave of nausea run through him. Black dots danced before his eyes and he felt sure he would pass out before reaching any water, especially as he had no idea where to find some in this room.
A small laugh escaped him as he hoarsely whispered to himself
“dying of thirst, knew my end would be tragic”
The laughter caught hold of him and he felt unable to move any further deciding to just kneel here and laugh himself to his death. Every inch of him burned and ached and he could barely swallow now due to having next to no saliva left, but he continued to laugh softly against the covers, feeling drunk and slightly delirious and finding his situation very amusing at that moment. The fact that he knew those pair of amazing eyes were now watching him only made him laugh all the more.
---
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
Goo Goo Dolls - iris
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1/21/2006, 8:09 pm
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wanderingsoul
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Re: The Captain's Favor
Thorne took a deep drink of the brandy and walked over to the window, looking through the latticed wood that kept the Captain’s privacy. The sea was calm, with only a gentle roll to it. They were still too far from land for the waves to break on a quiet sea. He knew his men were looking forward to their reaching port. They were all quite a few pieces of gold richer and it would be a wild, drunken revel the entire time they were on land. He would engage in a bit of such revelry himself. It was expected.
His lips twitched as he heard Devereaux threaten one of the crew. He was in a rare mood. And Thorne knew he had caused it. Devereaux didn’t like to share his captain with anyone—not with the beauties in port and certainly not with pretty captive boys. His fingers tightened around the bottle and he turned to look at the pretty captive boy in question. Devereaux had fairly torn the boy up and had left him with scars that would permanently mar his looks. He should have expected that. And maybe he had. Maybe he had wanted that. The boy’s insolent smirk had needed wiping from his face. Except he knew it had been more than just that.
He took another deep swallow of brandy and lowered himself into the chair next to his writing desk. He could feel the breeze through the window. It carried with it a freshness that meant it would soon be raining. Which would be a welcome break from the heat since the sky indicated it would not be a storm.
He leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. He knew sleep wouldn’t come, but the brandy gave him some measure of relaxation. And taking the boy had given him an almost satisfied feeling. Almost. But between that and the brandy, perhaps his head would at least drift a bit.
***
The sound of a groan of pain brought the captain back from the deeply quiet place that had almost been sleep. He didn’t move and he didn’t open his eyes. But he listened. The boy’s breathing was labored as he tried to move. He opened his eyes just a little and watched the boy. The light in the cabin had faded to something softer, warmer from the late afternoon sun, and it added a burnished glow to the boy’s golden hair. It didn’t soften the livid lash marks on the boy’s back though. And Thorne wondered what sense of need it was that was driving the boy to try to move from the bed. Surely he didn’t think he would make his escape? He could not be that foolish to leave the relative safety of the Captain’s Cabin for what he must surely suspect would be awaiting him on deck? And even if Devereaux wasn’t waiting for him, where did the lad think he could go?
But the instinct for survival was a strong one. And perhaps the boy was merely reacting to a need to be a moving target rather than a still one. A frown crossed the Captain’s brow as the boy pushed himself off the bed and onto the floor. The boy wouldn’t be able to stand. And he looked very like he was going to heave his sides all over his bed.
“dying of thirst, knew my end would be tragic”
And the boy was laughing, laughing as if it was the funniest thing in the world.
He stood up and walked over to the boy and laid a hand across the boy’s brow. It was burning, hot with fever. He swore softly and grabbed the tankard from the corner of his desk and opened the door to his cabin. It was still raining, a soft, steady rain, despite the fact that the sun was still bright in the sky. A sun shower his mother had called rain like this. And it felt good upon his bare skin. There was a rain barrel just outside his cabin and he reached down nearly to the bottom of the barrel and dipped the tankard into the fresh water. He raised it to his lips and took a sip. It tasted of the barrel, but not, thankfully, of salt. He ignored the glances from the crew, most of whom were enjoying the cooling rain—most likely after enjoying something much warmer with the wench, whatever her name had been—and strode quickly back into his cabin.
The boy hadn’t moved and was still apparently lost in the amusement of dying of thirst. He knelt beside him and wrapped the fingers of one hand in the boy’s hair and pulled his head up. He put the tankard to his lips. “Drink, boy. Ye’ll not die of thirst today. Though I’ve no doubt your end will be tragic.”
---
And by and by my Soul returned to me, And answered "I Myself amd Heav'n and Hell"
Omar Khayyam
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1/24/2006, 2:25 am
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MarkL15
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Re: The Captain's Favor
Seth was too lost in the delirious laughter at first to notice the captain, it wasn’t until he felt the cold breeze brush against his burning skin that he felt the presence of the captain and shivered. He felt unable to stop the laughter until he felt those large powerful hands wrap around his hair and lift his head, the touch felt gentle and he felt a small sigh replace the laughter as he felt the tankard against his dry lips. He swallowed quickly and felt his lungs burn as they tried to take in air, but he didn’t stop till the tankard was empty. He quickly gasped in air feeling pure relief flood him because of the water that was quickly taking away that desperate thirst and because of the air that he was now gasping in.
His head felt cloudy and his skin still burned and his back painfully stung but for now h felt relived and already felt himself sinking against the soft covers, not caring if he had to sleep on his knees but knowing the captain would not leave him there. Thinking of the captain Seth rested his forehead against the bed and relaxed, the captain was a hard man but also kind in many ways.
“Kind and beautiful”
Seth was unaware that the thoughts escaped his lips, losing his self control in the delirium bought on by the fever. The captain was beautiful, despite the rough look and the coldness in him, he was beautiful and had the most amazing eyes. Seth was barely aware that the captain had lifted him and laid him back on the bed all he cared about was seeing those eyes. Seth rolled onto his back and moaned softly as the pain ran through him, it had never been like this before.
“Never this bad before”
He felt a smile grace his lips, no it had never been this bad but it had never been this good either, despite all the past passionate lovers, none had taken him like the captain. Andre had been the best and for the following years Seth had tried to find someone to take him as good as Andre, but never had till today.
“Much better than him though”
Still unaware he was talking parts of his thoughts Seth’s hand reached out and he let his hand wrap around the fine soft strands of the captains hair as he looked at those eyes. His head was swimming and everything seemed out of focus except those eyes, he saw the clearer than anything and frowned, feeling a sadness wash over him, a feeling he hated. He felt his emotions turn cold and hard despite the fever raging through him.
“no one should have eyes like that”
He didn’t want to look anymore and rolled off his painful back onto his front, comforting himself with the thought that one day he would remove those eyes with a shiny dagger and stop the sadness that had settled over him from nowhere a deep ache that had not existed since he was a young boy, still innocent and hopeful. The Seth now however had stopped hoping and had decided to take destiny into his own hands and no one would change that.
“Not even a captain with eyes like the sea”
With those thoughts Seth sank into a deep sleep.
---
And I don't want the world to see me
'Cause I don't think that they'd understand
When everything's made to be broken
I just want you to know who I am
Goo Goo Dolls - iris
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1/24/2006, 10:17 pm
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