by Sean Michael
Stephen stiffened, fighting the drug, the dazed dreaminess.
“Ah, your mind vexes your body. Poor Butcher.” John slid warm fingers across Stephen’s belly and he frowned, reaching to pull his blouse around him, trying to make his eyes focus. “You are mine and safe in my arms.”
“Not…” He reached up to slap his own cheek, wake himself from his odd lethargy.
“And you accused me of self-abuse.”
“I did. You do. I mean… You are.”
“You’re the one hitting yourself, Butcher.”
“I am no butcher.” He tried to sit up, get up. Get away.
The hand around his waist and the leg over his pulled him back against the pirate captain’s heat. “Stay.”
“I…” Stephen closed his eyes again, his body relaxing.
“There you are.” The captain’s warm fingers slid across his belly again.
He sighed, confused, dazed. “Here I am?”
“Listening to your body, sliding into my arms where you belong.”
“I belong…” He couldn’t focus, floating, swaying. That hum came again, low and vibrating along his back, matching the fingers that were stroking along his belly, sliding across the tip of his shaft…
Stephen’s eyes fluttered open. “I cannot…”
“Yes, you can.” The captain’s hand slid into his breeches and wrapped around his cock, hot and sure, solid.
“N-no… Oh…” He whimpered, legs shifting.
“Oh, yes, Stephen. Yes.” That hand began to move, sliding up and down along his flesh in the most maddening manner.
“I… Please. Please, no.” Stephen shook his head, hips shifting.
“Please no or just please?” The pirate kept moving his hand, using the movements of Stephen’s own body against him.
“I need…” Water. Ale. Air. Something.
“Yes, I can feel.” The captain squeezed tight around his shaft.
“Oh. Don’t. I cannot…” His hips were moving as if possessed by an ague.
“But you can and you are.”
“I…” Stephen shook his head, gasping, heat filling his belly.
“So hot. Have you touched yourself like this? Felt the heat and the silk of your own cock?”
“No.” He sobbed softly, shivering. “It is wrong…”
“How could something that feels so good be wrong?” The captain continued to stroke him, to insist on his pleasure.
“Please…” Stephen couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. “I cannot…”
“I don’t believe you.” His erection was stroked harder, faster, more.
Stephen pushed into the touch, thrusting, need sparking along his skin. “Oh…”
“Mmm, yes, so good. I can feel your heart beating in your cock. You need as much as any pirate.”
“No. No…” Stephen stretched, his eyes rolling, his own body betraying him.
“Your body knows. Your body doesn’t lie.”
“No!” He jerked away, panting, his entire self thrumming with need.
He was pulled back against the warmth of his captor’s skin. “Yes.”
That hand remained, moving on him, touching him where no one had, where even his own hand was not allowed. Stephen arched, sobbing softly as heat poured from him, huge pleasure stealing his breath.
The captain moaned into his ear. “Lovely, Butcher. Like a debauched angel.”
Stephen shook his head, his muscles trembling, his sacs aching. One solid hand slid down and cupped them, rolling them in warmth. Someone whimpered, the sound soft, desperate. The captain pressed against his back, hard shaft sliding along his backside. Stephen shifted away, shaking his head.
“Oh, now, I gave you your pleasure, it is my turn now,” the captain insisted.
His body betrayed him, rubbing into the pirate’s warmth without his permission.
“Yes… So hot and good. You’re going to be lovely and tight.”
“No. No…” Stephen pulled away, moving across the bed, eyes focused on the porthole, the sun.
One big hand landed on his hip and hauled him back against the captain’s heat. “You say that quite often.”
“I cannot. I have never…” His lethargy from the laudanum and the pleasure was slowly fading.
“Yes, I was counting on that.” There was satisfaction in that voice.
Stephen was tired, so tired of being scared, of being panicked. The captain rubbed against him, erection sliding along his crease, the invasion almost unbelievable. He couldn’t conceive of this, could not believe it, could not think of it. Faster and harder, the hard shaft slid along his backside and suddenly it pressed between his legs, bumping his balls as it slid forward. Stephen wriggled, moving against the sensation, against the heat.
The captain moved, sliding that hot cock between his legs again and again. He stretched, legs tightening. The captain groaned, hands sliding to his hips, holding him tightly. So hot, the man was so hot. Faster and faster, the captain thrust, taking his legs as if they were…as if Stephen was…
“No!” Stephen pulled at the rough sheets, hips slamming back against the man as he fought to get free.
“Yes! Don’t stop!”
He cried out, scared, confused, desperate as he struggled. The more he fought, the harder the captain’s hands held him, moans and grunts coming from the man. Then teeth sunk into his shoulder, heat splashing between his legs from the captain’s shaft. He groaned, stomach clenching, breath panting from him. The captain pulled away, lying back with a satisfied sounding grunt and Stephen crashed onto the floor, retching as his world dipped, swayed.
“Tsch. Tsch. You wound me, the way you vomit on my hospitality.” That thread of amusement was back.
Slow tears slid down his cheeks and he reached for his bag again, curling over it, drinking deep from the vial within. Escaping. Those strong hands wrapped around his upper arms, hauling him back up again, trapping him against the captain’s heat. He moaned, swaying, somehow more exhausted than he had ever been.
“You’re safe from everything but me here, Butcher. Sleep.”
Oh. Sleep. Sleep. He wrapped himself in the warmest of blankets and sank into a void empty of dreams.
Chapter Five
John put on some clothes and headed above deck. He nodded at the men, making his way slowly toward the wheel, filling his lungs with the fresh sea air.
“You’re looking fit, Cap’n.”
“I am.” And he was, though he suspected his vigor was due as much to the butcher’s charms as his abilities as a surgeon. “We’re riding high on the water. I think it’s about time we looked to filling our hold. Bring us about. We’re bound to find some prey closer to the islands.”
With any luck they wouldn’t actually find any ships for a few more days, whence he’d be feeling more fit. Still, his crew didn’t need to know he was hedging his bets.
“What about the butcher, Sir?”
“What about him?” John growled.
“If he’s seen…”
“Then we’ll just have to make sure we leave no survivors.”
Matey laughed and began to shout out orders, bringing the ship around.
John spent a couple of hours at the wheel, the sun shining on his face, the smooth wood worn and familiar beneath his hands. Sooner than he was ready for, his wounds betrayed him, and he headed below deck before anyone noticed.
The butcher was still there, curled around a pillow, eyes fluttering behind his lids. Now there was a sight to bring back his vigor. He unbuttoned his cuffs and pulled off his blouse.
The doctor’s long body was fine—lean, buttocks sweet and curved. His cock took as much notice as the rest of him did, filling. Moaning, he slid his hand into his leggings, giving himself a tug or two. The butcher shifted, moving away from him, away from the edge of the bed.
“So kind of you to make room for me, Butcher.” Chuckling, he pushed his leggings and boots off and climbed into the bed, pressing up against the warm length of the man.
&nb
sp; “Not…not a butcher.” The words were slurred, soft.
“No, and I don’t arouse you either.” He laughed, sliding his hand along Grey’s hip.
“No. You don’t. Not at all. Beast.” Grey moved again, nearly heading toward the floor.
John slid his hand around Grey’s belly, hauling the man up against his body. Grey’s ass was lovely against his cock. “Are you sure? Shall I test your cock for the truth of that?”
Grey growled, kicking at him. “Unhand me!”
There was that fire he loved. He put his leg over Grey’s, holding them down as his hand reached for Grey’s shaft. “No. In fact, I believe I shall ‘hand’ you.”
Grey’s struggles brought them together, again and again, the heavy erection near leaping into his hand. Groaning, body thrumming with it, he enjoyed every bit of fight, every brush of their bodies. He wrapped his hand tightly around Grey’s cock, sliding along it, knowing he could make the man come.
“Let me be. I have no use for you!” Grey insisted.
He laughed, the sound husky—the man was affecting him, he could not deny that. “But I have use for you, Butcher.”
He ran his thumb around the head of Grey’s cock, spreading the liquid that slowly leaked from there. He tilted his thumb, letting the nail drag across the small slit. That earned him a gasp, a twist, a jerk as he touched. Just so, even in fury, Grey could not deny the heat between them.
He turned Grey’s face and brought his mouth down onto Grey’s for a hard, take-no-prisoners kiss. Those lips parted for him, reluctant and heated all at once. He stabbed his tongue into Grey’s mouth, taking it as he would eventually take that sweet, virgin ass. Those sharp teeth threatened, fighting him even still, legs scissoring beneath his own. The threat of them made his cock jerk and he began to hump against Grey, hand tugging the full cock with hard strokes, intent on bringing Grey right over with him.
The bedstead creaked, the linens damp with their sweat. Soon it would be more than that staining the sheets and he had half a mind to see Grey scrub them, pale skin exposed to the sun. For now he would settle for leaving a mark of his own to mar that perfection. He wrapped his lips around the skin of Grey’s neck.
Grey’s deep cry echoed, the splash of the waves diminishing it not at all. He bit as his hips pushed harder, sliding his erection against Grey’s ass. His hand kept moving, insisting on Grey’s pleasure.
“Now all who see you will know you are mine,” John growled.
“Never. I belong to no one!”
How he loved that fire.
“Mine,” he growled again. “And I will prove it.” John pulled harder on Grey’s cock, thumb working the tip. “Come now, Butcher. Spend yourself.”
Another sharp cry rent the air, then heat spread over his fingers, rich and thick.
“Yes,” he hissed, hips humping hard, sending his own shaft along Grey’s backside several more times before he too came, his seed spraying up along Grey’s back.
Grey groaned, trying to curl into himself.
“Are you a man or a turtle?” Chuckling, he held his hand, wet with Grey’s own seed, to the man’s mouth. “Taste the proof of your pleasure.”
Grey sank his teeth into John’s hand, sharp and quick, stinging him. His hips jerked and he nipped at Grey’s ear. “You have such passion hidden beneath that very thin layer of civilization.”
“You know nothing of me. Nothing.”
Of course not. Nothing about the furies that lived within Grey.
“And I have all the time in the world to prove to you that I do indeed know you.” He wiped Grey’s cum off his hand onto Grey’s cheek and neck.
Grey winced, pulled away. “Beast, trying to soil me.”
“It’s your seed, Butcher.” He leaned forward and bit at Grey’s ear. “Lie still and I’ll clean it off. With my tongue.”
“Beast,” Grey accused again. Then he arched, shuddered, shaking against John.
“So you keep saying.” He pushed Grey onto his back and dragged his tongue across Grey’s cheek. Grey looked as if he’d been keelhauled, eyes wide and shocked, unbelieving. John had forgotten that such purity existed, that there were men who could still be shocked.
“I’m glad I amuse you.”
John grinned. That fire inside made him burn. “You do, Butcher. You do.”
“You…you bastard.” He received another bite, this one deeper, marking him.
That left John growling. “I am the one who does the marking around here. “
He chose a new spot on Grey’s neck, one that would not be hidden by the man’s shirt, and bit down, lips wrapping around the warm skin as well and sucking, pulling the blood to the surface. Grey arched, went taut, feet thrumming on the straw-filled mattress, hands opening and closing in his hair.
He kept it up, Grey’s reaction heady, intoxicating. At last he was done and he pulled away, humming at the sight of the lurid mark upon the pale skin. “Mine. Everyone can see that now.”
“See…see that you’re an animal…”
The passion in Grey’s eyes captured him.
“Yes,” he agreed. John was proud to give into his baser nature, his animal instincts. He did not fear them. “And they will see the mark and assume you have rutted with me.”
“They will be wrong.”
He grinned. “For now.” He slid a hand over Grey’s hip and pushed it between the man’s legs, fingers teasing behind the warm balls.
“Please!” There was a moment of honest fear, of desperation and panic.
He slid his nose along Grey’s cheek, licked at the marks he’d left on the lovely neck. His fingers stroked across Grey’s hole, though he made no attempt to push them into that tight heat. Not yet. “Do you beg for me?”
“I will beg not to be ruined.” Those eyes stared into him. “I am a physician. I know how such things might tear, rot, kill a man.”
“I will not hurt you. I know what I’m doing.” He stroked the hot, hidden flesh again. “I will prepare you, make the way slick. And you will beg me, Butcher. When the time is right.” It sent arousal through him, the thought of this proud, beautiful man giving in to his baser desires and begging to be taken.
“You swear it. I wish your vow that you will not damage me.”
“I swear I will take you and that it will not damage you.” John wanted Grey to be clear that he would take the man. That was not in question.
“I will not beg.”
“You will. Perhaps you will not today—but you will.” He pressed his finger against Grey’s hole, not quite penetrating as he pushed his tongue into Grey’s mouth. He would have to be careful. He could get lost in this distraction.
Grey’s body went tight, but those lips parted, accepted him in. He fucked Grey’s mouth, enjoying the heat and taste of the man, enjoying the way Grey’s body responded to him, despite every verbal protest. He stroked the hidden entrance now and then, sending shivers through the lean body. So sensual, all hidden under that proper mien.
His shaft slowly grew hard again, caught between his body and Grey’s. “I would have your mouth. As well as your ass.”
“No. I will bite you.”
“I thought you butchers took an oath to hurt no man?” The words hadn’t made his erection deflate in the least, though.
“For you, I would make exception.”
He laughed and took Grey’s mouth hard, shifting so that their cocks rubbed together. He took Grey’s hands and held them above his head. “And if I made it a choice? Your ass or your mouth?”
Those swollen lips went tight, head shaking. He moaned, putting both wrists in one hand, the other sliding down along Grey’s stretched body. “Yes. I think that will be your first choice. Your ass or your mouth.”
Grey’s hands tugged, his head shaking. So lovely, the long body struggling beneath his, exciting him almost unbearably.
The knock on the door made him growl, made him snarl. “Who is it?”
“Tom, sir. I have your mid-day meal.”
John chuckled and let Grey’s hands go. “Saved by my stomach, Butcher.”
Grey rolled away, dressing with a furious haste. Chuckling, John didn’t bother with clothing, just lazily made his way to the door to let Tom in. The boy gave him an admiring look, which made his grin even wider. He nodded toward the table.
“Did you bring utensils?” he asked the boy. “Butcher Grey believes they’re civilized and I’m in a mood to humor him.”
“Utensils? You need more than a knife to eat?” Tom looked from him to Grey.
Grey’s eyes rolled, just a touch, but the smile Tom received was not cruel. “A spoon? A fork?”
Tom smiled back, but then turned to John. “There’s no gruel on the tray, Cap’n.”
“I know. Bring the man a spoon anyway. And there should be forks in the cargo—that load from the governor’s shipment. I’ll bet there’s dinner plates and fancy bowls and all sorts in there. You bring that up and we’ll see if next meal we can’t make the butcher believe he’s eating at the king’s table itself.” He gave Tom a wink and a pat on the head, the lad heading off as soon as he’d finished setting out their meal.
“You see? I know a little of the needs of a genteel man like yourself. I can woo you if I must.” He managed to keep his mouth from twitching too hard. Those eyes rolled like dice, the doctor’s lips pursed. “Doesn’t it exhaust you?” He sat at the table, still happily naked, though that was more for Grey’s benefit than comfort—he wasn’t in the habit of wandering without at least his breeches on—and nodded at the other chair. “Being so proper all the time?”
“Of course not. It is necessary.” Grey sat, chin held firm, eyes a touch haunted.
John took the dark loaf then split it, giving the slightly smaller half to Grey before dipping his in the stew they’d been served. “Necessary? But why?”
“One cannot have a polite society without proper manners.”
He snorted. “And what does polite society get you except for uptight and unhappy people?” He popped the dripping bread into his mouth, tongue snaking out to capture the gravy that had escaped onto his chin. He licked his fingers as well, being noisy about it.
“A barbarian such as yourself could never comprehend.” Grey ate quietly, carefully.
