The Butcher and the Beast

by Sean Michael

  He nodded and slid down the door, beginning to see spots behind his eyes. The pain was everything for a moment or two, pushing all thoughts of seduction and taking, of having Grey in his bed, away. He felt the doctor ease him to the floor, a soft pillow under his head. It was a strange dichotomy, to receive comfort and care from this man he’d violated, this man who had threatened to run him through.

  “’Tis a shame I value my life, or I would kill you now and pay the consequence.”

  “I do not believe you would, Butcher.”

  “Hush. You are in no position to mince words.”

  John managed a chuckle, the sparring allowing him to push through the pain. “If it weren’t true, you would deny it.”

  He heard the man snort, but Grey didn’t argue.

  He felt as if he was falling, knew he’d lost a lot of blood. “Help me onto the bed.” It was undignified to lie on the floor if it was not due to drunkenness.

  “Stay where you are, man. Let your hand knit some.”

  He tried to sit up without the help, grunting with the effort.

  “Stubborn fool.” Grey helped him stand, staggered under his weight as they made toward the bed.

  He collapsed down onto it, head going between his legs as the world grayed out.

  The doctor eased him back, covering him. “Well, you obviously don’t suffer from an excess of bodily humors.”

  “What?” Was the man saying he wasn’t impressive? He was.

  “Humors? Blood, seed—you seem to lose them at a rate that would impress a leech.”

  “It is the butcher I wish to impress, not the leech.” He frowned. Had he spoken aloud to the doctor? He would not have Grey know such things.

  “Sleep, Pirate. We will war again on the morrow.”

  He growled softly, unhappy to be letting down his guard so completely in front of his prisoner. But the pull of unconsciousness was too much to resist and he found himself sliding down into dreams of stormy eyes and blond curls mingled with blood.

  * * * *

  Maddening. The man was maddening.

  Food kept coming at regular intervals, along with ale, which Stephen kept feeding the captain. In truth, he was now less scared of the huge man than the rough, frightening men above. He’d heard several of them arguing with Tom at the door, some wanting to see the captain, others wanting to know when the man would be done with Stephen so they might have their turn. John slept and rested for three days, hand red and seeping for the first day.

  Tom slid into the room with the tray of food on the fourth day as Stephen was again mending his clothes. “Is the cap’n gonna wake?”

  “Eventually, I am sure.”

  Tom looked about nervously. “I’m afeared there’s mutiny afoot.”

  “Mutiny. I’ll skin any man who even thinks of it,” growled John from the bed.

  Stephen arched an eyebrow. “Mutiny? Why?”

  “Cap’n’s been below. There’s…there’s somes that’s talkin’, there is. Somes that are saying we oughta slit the doctor’s gullet and leave you on an island.” The lad looked nervous. “I’m not wanting you marooned, Cap’n.”

  The low growl got louder and John sat up, hardly swaying at all. “No one’s marooning me, Tom Simpson.” John came to the door, stroking the lad’s cheek almost tenderly.

  The lad nuzzled into the touch, nodding. “Yes, Captain. Thank you.” Those eyes looked up at the man, worshiping. “It’s Blackie and the Turk, sir, doing the talking.”

  “Now why am I not surprised? Get me my uniform, Tom. It’s high time they remembered who captains this ship.”

  “Aye, sir.” The boy hurried about and Stephen found a perch against the wall, staying quiet, still.

  John pulled his clothes off and sat heavily, letting Tom dress him, fingers reaching out now and then to caress the boy. The amount of…contact upon this vessel was unreal.

  It wasn’t long at all before John was dressed in what had to be a stripped uniform of Her Majesty’s Royal British Navy. Tom was on his knees, helping John get on his boots. Now and then the boy would lean his cheek against John’s crotch and rub.

  John hummed, hand stroking Tom’s hair. “Another time, Tom. Once the matters at hand are taken care of.” John looked right at Stephen.

  Filthy beast! Madman! He looked away, refusing to be drawn into the lure.

  “Doctor? If you value your life, you’d best come with me and agree that you are a part of the crew now. They’ll be happy to have a butcher aboard. We suffer from plenty of injuries in the course of our…duties. If you don’t stand with me, I cannot guarantee your safety.” John was standing now, hand on the boy’s shoulder.

  Oh. Oh, dear. It was the devil’s own choice. Stephen could not stay and yet if he did not agree to… “Might I have a jacket? My shirt is…rent.”

  John laughed. “Rent? I tore it. No jacket. The crew is aware of my proclivities.”

  “Beast.” He managed, barely, not to stamp his foot upon the floor. John hummed, seeming to be pleased at the insult. “I will stand with you, if you swear you will not give me to your men.”

  “I will not give you to my men. I don’t like spoiled goods.”

  “I will hold you to your word, Captain.” Stephen stood, straightening his clothes.

  “I assure you that in this matter, I speak true. Tom here will speak to that.”

  The lad nodded, eyes friendly, warm. Aside from John, Tom was the only other person he’d seen much of since he’d been taken, the lad not seeming as rough as the other men. “The cap’n always does as he says. Always.”

  “Well, then. I suppose I must trust in that.”

  “You don’t have much in the way of choice, do you, Butcher?” Unless he was mistaken that sounded like sympathy in John’s voice.

  “A man always has a choice, Captain.”

  “Well then, you’ve made yours. Let us go and end this mutiny before it begins.” John moved confidently out the door.

  Stephen took the cutlass that had been taken from him by John, sliding it down the leg of his trousers. In case. Just in case.

  They climbed up to the deck, many of the pirate sailors they passed ceasing their activities to follow. They came to a stop only when John stood by the wheel of the ship. Stephen stayed close to Tom, keeping his chin held high.

  The captain didn’t play coy. “Blackie! Turk! Front and center!” The two men scrambled to stand beneath the stairs to the wheel deck, looking up at John. “I understand you two want mutiny.”

  The surprise that rippled through the ranks was audible, visible, the shock and horror on the two men’s faces obvious.

  “N…no, Cap’n. No. No one would dare.” The man who spoke was large, almost as big as John, his black hair filthy and matted.

  “Do you think that just because I am not above deck that I do not know everything that happens on this ship? At least have the decency to stand up for yourself and tell the truth, man!” John glowered.

  The second man glared at little Tom, baring his teeth. Stephen stood taller, glaring back at the man. Tom was just a lad, and more loyal than any of these filthy beasts.

  “I had hoped you would confess your mutinous ways instead of trying to hide them. Then at least I could have trusted a whipping would have solved the issue. Instead you may choose between having your gullets cut open or being marooned on the next deserted isle we find.”

  “No! No, Cap’n, please!” The second man stepped forward. “We was just thinkin’ the sawbones had…had bewitched you.”

  “The doctor has joined the crew to fix our wounds and if you disrespect him, you disrespect me. There will be no mutineers borne aboard this ship.”

  “He’s stayin’, Cap’n? He’s one of ours? We got ourselves a butcher?” The questions came left and right.

  John raised his hand and the crew quieted. “We have ourselves a butcher. But we also have ourselves a pair of mutineers who need to be dealt with.”

  Stephen leaned down to Tom. “What
happens next?”

  Tom shrugged. “Follow the cap’n’s what we do.”

  “Fifty lashes each and if I hear anything—a whisper, a hint of a whisper—on the matter of mutiny again I will start gutting you like fish.” John glared at them all. “And you all know that I am a man of my word.”

  Fifty lashes. Stephen shuddered, winced. He would have work to do there.

  “Does anyone else have anything they’d like to say?”

  The silence was terrifying, vast. Quite stunning.

  “Excellent.” John made his way to the wheel. “Bring her about, Matey. We’ve had no luck here. We’ll try the other side of the islands. I’m sure there are vessels just waiting to be plucked.”

  Plucked? Vessels? Stephen shook his head, unsure where to go. What to do. A roaring cheer went up among the pirates and John smiled, looking for a moment like the very devil himself. Stephen backed away, moving until his spine was against a bulkhead, no room for anyone behind him. John wandered through the crew, talking to his men, establishing his control once more.

  “The whippin’ll be at dawn tomorrow,” Tom whispered.

  “Are we expected to watch?”

  Tom nodded. “Mutiny punishments are real serious.”

  “Oh.” He couldn’t help wincing, shaking his head. “I doubt I am the mutinous type.”

  Tom looked up at him, then opened and closed his right hand. “No?” The boy shrugged. “I know I’m not. I’ll be here to cheer the cap’n on.”

  “Indeed.” Stephen nodded, looking about, refusing to shrink from the eyes of these rough men.

  After some time, John returned to them, hand falling onto Tom’s shoulder. He could see the pallor beneath the man’s tan. “Come, lad.” John gave him a long, lingering look. “Come along, Butcher.”

  “I am not a butcher.” He sighed beneath his breath, hand on the hilt of the cutlass as he moved.

  John chuckled. “Poor Butcher, lost among the uncivilized.”

  “This is not a situation of my own making.” He met the midnight blue gaze, still fighting.

  Heat flared in those eyes.

  “Perhaps not, and yet, you are here.” John gave him a wicked grin. “With me.”

  “Beast.” They moved below deck, the sunlight fading.

  John moaned. “Say it again, Butcher.”

  “Perverse beast.” The man truly was irritating.

  John’s laughter filled the ship as they went below. It was dark down here after the bright sun on the deck above. Stephen considered pulling the cutlass and beating the man about the head and shoulders. Then his chance was gone, the three of them in the captain’s cabin once again, John sagging.

  “You are not well.” He pushed John toward the bed. “You do not allow yourself time to heal.”

  “And what would you have me do? Let them gut you and leave me marooned?”

  “I can think of better ways to spend my time, yes.” He looked over at Tom. “Help me get these boots off him. The man needs rest.”

  The lad nodded as John lay down. “Two of you taking care of me. I like it.”

  Stephen rolled his eyes and snorted. “Beast.”

  “I thought it was perverse beast, Butcher.”

  “Madman works as well.”

  John chuckled and sighed as Stephen and Tom finished undressing him. John looked almost as pale as the sheets.

  “He needs some ale and some beef stew, Tom. Can you find it for him?”

  Tom nodded and stroked John’s thigh a moment before heading off.

  “You’re giving orders now, are you?” John asked him, the grumble tamed by the weakness in the low voice.

  “It does seem so.” He gave the man an arch look, shaking his head.

  John growled a little, no heat in the sound.

  He checked John’s hand, nodding at the pink, healthy flesh.

  “The crew believed you’d worked some evil charm upon me. Is it true, Butcher? Is that why I’m so weak?”

  “No. You’re weak because you tore a blade from me and almost sliced your thumb from your hand.”

  “See. It is your fault.”

  “No. You tore me from my home.” Stephen re-bandaged the wound, wrapping it well.

  “You were stagnating there. You’d never even bedded anyone, man!”

  “I was betrothed! It would have come in due time.”

  John chuckled. “In due time.” The next sound was definitely a snort.

  “Bah.” Stephen tossed his head. “I will father many sons.”

  “Only if I grow bored with you quickly.”

  Stephen couldn’t stop the blush, hot and red, traveling up his throat. John chuckled and grabbed his hand, tugging him down against John’s broad chest.

  “Unhand me!” Stephen pulled back, struggling, trying to keep his traitorous body from responding. “You’ll open your wound.”

  “There’s something I want to open, but it isn’t my hand.” John was practically purring.

  “Beast.” Stephen rolled his eyes, moving away. “You have to dine.”

  “And what about you? Are you hungry? I would have you dine on me.”

  “You are obscene.” His cheeks were flaming, burning. Beastly man.

  “I do try, Butcher Grey.” John winked.

  Stephen chuckled, he couldn’t help it. The sound simply escaped, and that made John look smug. Stephen wandered over to the porthole, hiding his cheeks, his grin.

  Tom came back in with the food and John grunted, pulling himself into a sitting position. “Go get yourself something to eat, lad.”

  Stephen looked over, stomach growling. Tom nodded and kissed the captain—on the lips!—before heading off. He hadn’t noticed the by-play between them much before now. He’d been too wrapped up in his own predicament. He told himself it made him angry that John was taking advantage of the lad, that there was nothing else to his reaction.

  Those dark eyes looked at him. “Hungry?”

  “I am.” On the lips…bloody hell, the man was a demon.

  “You can share mine.”

  Oh. He smoothed his shirt—what was left of it, mended and mended again as it was—over his belly before walking over to the bed.

  “You have to give me something in return. Don’t worry, nothing extraordinary—a kiss for each bite.”

  Stephen felt his eyebrows climb up into his hairline and he backed away, finding a chair across the room and sitting.

  “Oh, come now, Butcher. Surely there’s no harm in a few kisses.”

  “You are too old to be asking for kisses with your supper, sir.” It was one thing to have them taken from him, quite another to give them of his own free will. That was a hill too slick to venture near.

  “A man is never too old for that. And I can assure you I would never tell your affianced.”

  Stephen chuckled again at the thought of the trembling hands, the fluttering eyelashes, the little girl not even able to speak a single word with the huge pirate. John gave him a grin and a come hither look that any seductress would be proud of.

  “You…” Stephen couldn’t help but grin back, shaking his head at them. What a peculiar situation.

  “Come and eat and entertain me, Butcher.” So much confidence in the big pirate.

  “I will not kiss you, Beast.” Still he stood and sat on the bed, most amused.

  “You will deny me that which will heal me fastest?”

  “Nowhere in my books are kisses mentioned as a remedy.” He stole a sip of ale.

  “There are many things that have never made it to books. Think of the education you will receive aboard my ship.” Those dark eyes watched his every move.

  “You do not feel I have education enough?” Stephen refused to blush—simply refused.

  “Frankly, it is quite obvious that there are a number of areas where you are sadly lacking.” John took his arm and tugged him, but not hard, he was not forced this time. “Now come kiss me so that you may begin to fill your belly.”

  �
�I will…” He overbalanced, landing against the man, eye-to-eye.

  “Excellent,” murmured John, lips closing over his.

  Stephen gasped, lips parting for a moment as he tried to regain his balance. John took advantage of his gasp, tongue sliding into his mouth. Stephen pulled away, heart pounding. “You are wicked.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.” The words were murmured, John’s voice satisfied. “Help yourself to a bite of stew.”

  Stephen wanted to growl and fuss, but his belly was empty, he was starving and the stew smelled perfect. So he took a bite, enjoying the flavors of the beef upon his tongue.

  “I’ll let you have the next bite for feeding me a spoonful,” John offered.

  “A beast and spoiled.” Still, Stephen scooped up a spoonful, making sure there was ample meat in the bite. He kept to himself his thought that it was lucky he had insisted on such simple amenities such as spoons.

  “Captain’s privilege,” John murmured, taking the spoon in, mouth slowly sliding off the silver.

  Stephen rolled his eyes and determined to keep this civilized. After all, they had the fancy bowls and silverware. They could also have some polite dinner conversation. “Have you always lived at sea?”

  “Since I had about seven years.”

  “My goodness, how awful.” He took a bite for himself.

  “On the contrary. I cannot imagine how awful it would be to live without the roll of the ocean beneath my feet.” The spoon was taken from him. “I need another kiss.”

  “You have had one more than I agreed to allow you!”

  “And you’ve had a spoonful more of stew than I agreed to allow you. Come now. Is kissing me really so awful?”

  “That is not true! The second bite was offered for feeding you. Cheating is a terrible habit.” He ignored the question about the kissing, stealing a swallow of ale.

  John chuckled. “But I’ve let you get away with drinking my ale. Now who’s cheating?”

  “You didn’t say I couldn’t drink. Pay attention.” He felt most wicked. It was a heady sensation.

  John laughed outright this time, the sound deep and warm. “You’re learning, Butcher. Now give me a kiss so we can have another bite.”

  He leaned forward and barely brushed their lips together, just breathing the man’s air before pulling away.