by Sean Michael
All Stephen could do was follow John’s hands, John’s touch, his eyes still rolling with the sensations within him. John slid his hands along Stephen’s legs, spreading them, bending them at the knee and pushing them back, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.
“I have you,” John told him, holding his gaze as something very hot and very large pressed against his entrance.
“Will you keep me?” Stephen panted, his heart pounding in his chest.
John stopped for a moment that seemed to go on for an eternity before he nodded. “I do believe I will, Butcher.” Then John’s heat pressed against him, pushed and pushed, insisting that his body stretch, that it accept John’s bulk.
Stephen groaned, eyes wide, the burn deep within him.
The head of John’s cock spread him wide before John stopped. Bending, John pressed on his lips, tongue sliding in deep, tasting of John and himself. “Just relax, Stephen.” John’s voice was low, husky, the cock inside him pulling away then coming back, pushing in again, going a little deeper this time.
“I…” He nodded, moaned into John’s lips as his body accepted the invasion.
Slowly, inch by inch, John rocked into him. The pirate would move back then forward again, always pushing just a little bit deeper each time.
“So tight,” groaned John. “I knew you would be.”
“Full.” Impossibly full. “You will never seat yourself fully within.”
John nodded. “I will. Have faith and let me in.”
The slow invasion continued, John pulling out and rocking back in. The burn was fading, replaced by the incredible fullness and something else, something warm that made Stephen want to shiver. Soon he was pushing back into each thrust, his body eager, his erection both full and aching.
“Yes. Yes.” John repeated it with every rocking thrust, the word a low growl. Then John shifted and his shaft jerked across that place deep inside Stephen that made everything else disappear.
“John. John.” Everything within him melted, eased, grew more and more heated.
“Told you.” John kept moving, kept hitting that spot. Then he wrapped a hand around Stephen’s cock and everything got even better. Stephen’s wrapped his own hands around John’s upper arms, and squeezed tight, his body gripping. Low moans came from John, and grunts, panting, each thrust having its own noise, its own feeling inside Stephen.
John just kept pushing, kept thrusting, sending him higher and higher.
“I will. I must. John. Please.”
John growled, the sound triumphant. “Yes. Come, Butcher. Give it to me.” The thrusts became harder, the tugs to his cock more forceful, like John would pull his climax right out of him.
Stephen offered it freely, entire body convulsing as he climaxed, pleasure drowning him. John roared, jerking into him, more heat filling his body.
They collapsed onto the bed together, both panting, trying to find breath. It was all he could do to cling and pant, heart pounding.
“Easy now,” murmured John, shifting, shaft sliding away from his body, leaving him empty, so very empty.
Stephen’s whimper escaped him, impossible to keep in. John touched him, hands soothing and warming, drawing him closer and petting. He cuddled in, moaning, collapsing into John’s strength.
“You are truly mine now.” The words rumbled in John’s chest.
“Am I?” Should that bother him?
“Yes.” John pulled the blankets up and chuckled. “And I’m sure you have any number of comments or protests to make. But they’ll keep ‘til morning, Butcher.”
“Not a butcher. Beast.”
John slid one big hand around his hip and tugged him back against John’s body. “But you are mine.”
“Perhaps you are mine.”
John laughed. “You’d like that, would you?”
Stephen wasn’t sure what the answer to that would be. What the answer should be. So he didn’t say a thing.
* * * *
John stood at the wheel, watching the sun set over the water, the wind blowing in his hair. There had been slim pickings in the last few weeks, and they’d met no real challenge since his wounds had healed some time ago. He knew the men were grumbling, unhappy. They needed a good fight now and then to keep them sharp, and food in the galley, gold in the hold.
Still, he was feeling too good to suffer the same mood as his crew. And the reason for that could be laid at the feet of the butcher they’d taken on. Just thinking of Grey had his smile widening and he shook his head. It would not do to let people know that Stephen was perhaps more to him than a butcher on the crew and a good time. It would not do to have that vulnerability exposed.
So instead of following his desires and going below to find Grey, he stayed where he was until the sun was gone, the water getting darker and darker before going black as sunset turned to dusk and became dark, stars twinkling in the sky.
Tom came by with a lantern. “Cap’n, sir? I brought your late meal to your cabin. Will ye take it here instead?”
John shook his head. It was a good excuse to go below and find his butcher. “Matey, you have the bridge.”
“Aye, sir.” His first mate took the wheel from him, settling behind it with a grin. John chuckled. He wasn’t the only one who loved to feel the wheel in his hands, the sea beneath him.
He followed Tom down below eagerly. He had taken Grey the night before, the butcher offering himself, asking, then begging, to be taken. It had been delicious—the surrender so sweet, earned. Just taking Grey would have been fun, but it would have broken that spirit that aroused him so. This had given him the best of both. He had played his game well and won.
They had both won.
He left the lantern with the lad outside the door as he went in, trusting Grey would have lit something in the cabin.
Grey was sleeping, clad only in a nightshirt, the man’s regular clothes washed and hung to dry. It must have been a bloody day for him. There was a single candle on the table, a tray there with bread and a hank of cheese, two mugs of ale. Slim pickings indeed if this was the best of their fare.
Tomorrow they would make a run at Santa Maria, but not the town itself. There were farms on the island and they’d grab some livestock and other stores.
He swigged down half his ale and stripped out of his shirt and his boots before going to sit at the edge of the bed. His hand slid along Grey’s shoulder. It made him chuckle, how the man could do the things they did together, but would never climb naked into bed to sleep.
Grey sighed softly, shifting lazily upon the sheets. His butcher really was a sensual man. John could scarcely believe that Grey had successfully kept that hidden not only from others, but from himself as well. He thought once again that civilized men had such stupid ideas of what was proper and right, they imprisoned themselves in rules and regulations—such nonsense.
Bending, he licked Grey’s lips, then nipped the bottom one sharply.
Those bright eyes flew open, Grey’s hands sliding up his arms. “Beast!”
He moaned and slid their lips together, enjoying the way Grey’s body reacted to his so instinctively. His hand tugged at Grey’s nightshirt, pulling it up to bare the pale legs. Those legs spread, sliding open, making an offer.
His moan was low, pleased, and he slid his hands up along Grey’s legs, letting his fingers linger on the soft skin of Grey’s inner thighs. His own erection pushed at his breeches as his tongue invaded the sweetness of Grey’s mouth.
“You…you have food to eat, Beast. A meal.” Grey clung to him, lips meeting his again and again.
“I find the meal in my bed far more appetizing than the one on the table.”
He slid his breeches off and pushed Grey’s nightshirt right up, exposing the little, rosy nipples. Bending, he tasted one, purring at the clean, musky flavor. So sensitive, Grey moaned, chest pushing right up into his lips. The little nipple hardened beneath his tongue and he lapped at it, fingers sliding up to fondle Grey’s soft, warm balls. The s
ac was wrinkled, hairless, the orbs within it heavy, beginning to tighten.
Grey began to move, to rock under his touch, his lips, moans coming more and more frequently. Groaning, John moved to the other nipple, licking at it, nipping occasionally and loving the way it made Grey jerk and cry out. He slid his fingers behind Grey’s balls, teasing along the heated, velvet skin. Hot, swollen, that sweet hole nearly throbbed under his touch.
He stroked it, taking Grey’s nipple between his teeth and biting at the same time. He glanced up, wanting to see Grey’s reaction. His sensual lover was lost, lips open on his name, eyes closed in bliss.
He’d done that. Him. Made Grey forget everything but his touches, but the need that filled Grey with every one. Growling a little, John leaned up to lick at his mark upon Grey’s neck as he searched the bed for the vial of oil. His hand closed upon it and he growled again in triumph.
“Hungry, Pirate?” Grey’s cock rubbed against his belly, wet-tipped and heated.
“Yes. And I’m well-matched by my hungry butcher.”
He unstoppered the vial and coated his fingers with oil as he nibbled his way from neck to jaw to mouth. He licked and bit at Grey’s slightly swollen lips, his fingers again finding that sweet, hot hole. He pushed one in, tongue sliding into Grey’s mouth at the same moment.
Grey’s cry sounded sweeter than any honey, the honest need a true addiction. Grey’s body was tight around his finger, but yielding at the same time, accepting the invasion, welcoming it even. He returned his mouth to Grey’s nipples as he pushed in a second finger, stretching Grey wider.
“John. I ache.”
He imagined so, ached and twinged, near burned.
“I will ease your ache for you. I would not leave you needing, wanting.” He pushed a third finger into Grey, working the hot, tight passage, getting it ready. His cock throbbed in anticipation and he met Grey’s eyes, let the man see his pleasure.
“You… it is as if you would devour me.”
John nodded. “Yes. I wish to consume all of you.”
The light from the flame of the candle made Grey’s pale skin lovely and John did wish to taste every inch. Even more he wanted to bury himself once again inside the tight heat that grasped at his fingers as if loathe to let them leave Grey’s body.
Grey’s moans were a constant chant, body moving on his slick fingers with a steady, eager motion. John watched the sensual dance, his erection growing harder with each movement, each sound from Grey’s lips.
With a groan of his own, he let his fingers slide away and wrap around his own cock, slicking it up with the oil. “Do you want me, Grey?” He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear the words from Grey’s own lips.
“Do you want me, John?” Those eyes stared up at him, bright as the North Star.
He growled. He took what he wanted without asking. He was the pirate captain. Still, growling again, he nodded and bent to take Grey’s lower lip between his teeth. “I do.” He spread Grey’s legs wider with his knees, his cock resting against Grey’s hole. “Now tell me. Ask me. Beg me.”
“I want you, John, unholy or no.” Grey reached up, sliding his tongue against John’s lips.
Moaning at the touch, the way Grey gave of himself, John pushed, his erection sliding into Grey’s tight heat. He chased after Grey’s tongue with his own as he pushed, cock slowly going deeper and deeper. Swollen and heated, Grey seemed to grip him like a fist encased in velvet, holding him close and firm. He went deep and stayed buried for as long as he could, but it wasn’t long before his body demanded he move and he pulled partway out, thrusting gently back in again. Grey moaned, rippling as if formed from the sea herself. “Again.”
John did it again, pulling out farther this time, thrusting back in harder, his eyes watching Grey meet the thrust.
“Yes. John…” They began to move, bed creaking as badly as the ship itself, the ropes holding the mattress complaining at the weight.
He found Grey’s lips with his own, tangled their tongues together before drawing Grey’s between his lips and sucking on it. The rhythm built between them, became more intense with every thrust, every suck, every creak of the bed. Grey wrapped his hands around John’s back, tugging him closer, deeper within. The man truly wanted him.
His roar was part triumph but mostly need, and he moved faster, sliding one hand around Grey’s cock as he pushed into Grey’s body over and over. The soft groans that answered him sent him soaring, the feel of Grey’s body milking him truly wondrous.
“My butcher.” The words were barely more than groans, his hips working hard.
“My beast. Please, John. Soon.”
John thrust harder, being called Grey’s making him shudder. “Yes, come for me. Show me how much pleasure I bring you.”
“Yes…” Heat sprayed over his hand, his fingers, that heated sheath he was buried within fluttering about him.
His own hips jerked, Grey’s body demanding his climax. He gave it, heat pouring from his shaft into Grey. He collapsed against Grey, breath panting from him.
“Are…are your appetites slaked, Beast?”
“Perhaps.” He gave Grey a wink, sliding from the hot, tight body with a groan. “What of yours?”
“Quite.” Stephen pulled the nightshirt back down around him. “Pirate.”
John chuckled, convinced Stephen wanted more than he was willing to admit, that Grey really wanted as much as he did.
He slid his hand beneath the nightshirt again, letting it come to rest on Grey’s belly. “You let me know when your appetite returns.”
“I should simply have to wait for yours to make itself known.”
He laughed again. “You almost make me wish to challenge you.” Almost, but he was not very good at denying himself and this was a treat he’d only just acquired.
“Almost.” Stephen smiled at him, fingers just brushing his arm.
He hummed at the touch, each one Grey offered of his own volition was sweeter than those he took or manipulated the man into giving. “I know where my strengths lie.”
“Most men do, I would think, else they would be unsuccessful men.”
“And I am very successful.” John stroked Grey’s belly, the skin soft and warm.
Grey’s laughter warmed him. “You have bread and cheese to dine on, the crew rumbles for meat. You are sure of this?”
“Impudent Butcher!” He slid his hand up to pinch one of Grey’s nipples and he bent to nip sharply at one lip. He was still laughing though and the bite turned into a lick which turned into a kiss. They were both panting as he pulled back. “Tomorrow evening we will be in Santa Maria and we will find meat, among other booty.”
Grey’s eyes went still suddenly, dull and empty as if the life was sucked from them. “The men will be pleased.”
John frowned at the sudden change in the man. “You disapprove? It’s what we do. We are, as you have so often accused, pirates.”
“No. No. I… You have had your conquest and it is time for another.” Grey slid from the mattress, pulling on the still damp breeches, a dull flush coating the lean back.
Surprise filled him at the words and he sat up. Surely not… “You’re jealous,” he accused. His butcher did not want to be replaced.
“Nonsense.” Next came the blouse, then the growing hair was tied back.
“No, I’m right. You wish to stay here and not be replaced by another.” He watched closely for the effect his words had on Grey, noting his own lack of interest in doing such a thing.
“What kind of fool would do that? Become enamored with a pirate?”
His mouth twisted, finding that he cared whether or not Grey was that kind of a fool. “Enamored or not, I am not yet finished with you.” He reached out and grabbed Grey’s arm, tugging the man close and taking Grey’s mouth in a hard kiss. “Not finished at all.”
Grey struggled a moment, then pressed against him, opening to him. Wanting.
He grabbed Grey’s ass in his hands, squeezing it through
the material of the man’s breeches. He would have to make sure medical supplies were stolen, and a gentleman’s clothing so that Grey could dress as he preferred. John growled at himself, and kissed Grey harder, bending his slender back.
Such need. Grey held him, murmuring promises and pleas into his lips, whispering bare confessions. He slid his hands beneath Grey’s blouse, tugging it off again, fingers finding the eager buds that reached for his touch, begging him just like the rest of Grey’s body did.
“John.” Teeth sank into his bottom lip.
He groaned, his shaft leaping. “Stephen,” he answered.
“My pirate.” Another bite, those eyes sparking fire.
He squeezed Grey’s ass, pulling the man closer as another groan left him, the sound wanton and needy. Still damp, still tender from their previous encounter, Grey’s fine rear pushed into his hands, then pulled away.
John would not breach the doctor again tonight—despite what Grey called him, he was not a beast, but he knew the sensation of light touches could make the man ache, need. He pressed his thumb into Grey’s crease, his other hand coming around to find the swollen cock.
“I cannot spend again. Cannot need again. You’ll sap my strength.”
“Do I seem weakened to you, Butcher? For all I have come inside your mouth and your ass and against your skin again and again?”
“You seem inhuman.” Grey growled at him, unafraid, eyes flashing. “And I am no butcher.”
He took Grey’s hand and pressed it against his heart. “Feel my heartbeat.”
Then he dragged that hand down to his cock, wrapping Stephen’s fingers around it. “Feel my heat. I am human just like you, Stephen.”
“My name sounds good in your voice, John.”
He groaned and said it again. “Stephen. Mine.”
“Will you keep me, then?”
He looked into Grey’s eyes for a long time. Then John nodded. “Aye, Stephen. That I will.”
Grey’s smile was unlike any he’d ever received, filling him deep down. Gasping, he pulled Grey to him, bringing the man back into his bed.
Where Stephen belonged.
