by Vivienne Cox
Alexander giggled. “All the same, darlin’ but I’m not up to anythin’. Don’t think I could get it up at all, ‘n fact.”
“Idiot. I’m going to take off your boots.”
But the hands were unfastening his breeches. “Don’t look like me boots. You seeing straight?”
“As a falcon, Cruise. Now stop talking and,” a tug brought the fabric down around his thighs, “sit on the edge of the bed.”
He sat with a thump, rocking backwards, actually tipping over when James lifted a leg to strip off first boots and then breeches. The other leg followed suit. The ceiling looked a long way away. He stared up at it and frowned as it moved. No, he was moving. Being moved? Yes. Pushed and pulled up into the bed.
“You’re frozen.”
“Couldn’t leave the wheel.”
“For six hours?”
“She wanted me there.”
“AnaMaria?”
“No, the Siren .”
James was rubbing him all over with the sheet, brisk and fast, not in any way suggestively, but somehow Alexander’s cock still gave him the lie and found the energy to stir. Perhaps he was less cold, tired and drowned than he thought he was. Or maybe James just had magic hands. They were certainly warm enough. It was lovely, feeling them touching him, caring.
“Good grief. You’d come to a stand on your deathbed.” Ah, he noticed.
Alexander waved his hand, fingers pointing in all directions. “Actually, that’s common. ‘anged men die with a stiffy. Sort of a final consolation.”
“Well, you’re not dead yet, so shift over.”
Alexander shifted, and sighed as the wet sheet was pulled away and the blankets brought up to cover him.
He shivered happily. “That’s nice.” All cocooned and getting slightly warmer than a block of ice.
The sheet was suddenly attacking his hair and he batted it away. “Alexander, keep still, you’ve a tonne weight of water in here.”
Obediently, he stilled. It was pleasant, really, the cotton rubbing through his hair. The scarf must’ve come off in the storm. Oh, well, he had more. Scraps of cloth, pretty as birds. His eyes closed, and for a moment he must have slept, for the next instant a warm body was wrapping itself around him. “Lovely…”
“Wish I could say the same. Christ, you’re cold.’
“I’ll soon warm up. Kiss me, that’ll help.”
“Incorrigible.”
“Pirate…”
“Is that your excuse for everything?”
“Absolutely – pirate, captain, pirate captain. Kiss?”
Thomas sighed, and kissed him. A peck on the cheek.
“Hey!”
“That was a kiss.”
“I’m greedy, I want more.” Alexander pouted.
“You’re bone white with exhaustion, how will any excitement help that?”
“It feels nice.”
“Damn, now you sound ten years old.”
“Not an arousing idea?”
“Good gr… No!”
“That’s a’right. Come here, Jamie, kiss me.” He wriggled around, so they were face to face. “I like your kisses. I like you.”
“Ah, Alexander, as I like yours and you as well. Daft, damned pirate that you are.”
“You make it sound like a crime!”
“I hate to break this to you, but I rather think it is.”
“Bugger.”
“That too.”
“So, everything’s illegal?”
“Only the good stuff.”
“Ah, makes sense. Where’s my kiss?”
“Here.”
He sighed happily and opened his lips to Jamie’s sweetly searching tongue. It felt warm in his mouth, cosy, until it slipped away and, with a chaste press of lips to cheek, James pulled away. “Is that it?”
“Yes.” So firm. Alexander wriggled again. Ah, yes, firm there too. “We could –”
“No, we couldn’t. You wouldn’t let me in the bath. I’m just proving that I can be equally tyrannous.”
“So this is by way of revenge?”
James giggled. There was no other word for it. Amazing, you’d never have looked at that uniform and imagined the man inside could laugh, let alone giggle. “Absolutely.”
“I should’ve ‘ad me wicked way with you then, then you might have pity on me now.” “You can’t be desperate – twice in one day and a storm contended with!”
Was he desperate? No, but he wanted to touch James, to hold him. While he was here. In case he ever wasn’t. “Jamie, I just want to feel you.” Did that sound too pitiable? He didn’t feel wretched. Just, maybe, a little in need. Which really was wretched. He began to turn away.
“Don’t.” A hand stilled him. “You are a manipulative creature, Alexander Cruise, and we are not, repeat not, going to indulge in any pleasure of the flesh apart from kissing. But if you turn your head… like that…”
Ah, yes, the kiss was so good. Their lips hardly touched, but it was enough to make him content. He lay still, head resting on a crooked arm, his own arm wrapped lightly around James’ ribs. He shivered, which made the other man pull him closer, though he wasn’t really bone cold anymore, just chilled and warming fast. James’ mouth brushed his cheek, and he could feel the other man was smiling. “What?”
“I was thinking.”
“Dangerous.”
“I know.”
“So, what were you thinking?”
“Ah, that. Well, that I hope we don’t have any storms for a while, and that you don’t have to go and get wet and tired – unless it’s here with me.”
“Ah.” Alexander smiled too. “A quick prayer to the weather gods then.”
“That would be most acceptable.” He paused. “You don’t have to sacrifice chickens or anything?”
“No, just make love well and often.”
“A most acceptable bargain.”
And though Alexander was the one who had been battling the elements and wearing himself out, it was Thomas who slept. Alexander watched him, watched his face relax and his breath even out, lengthen. Strands of hair were curling over his forehead, and his lashes were dark on his cheek. The detail was so clear that it took him a moment to realise the skies were clearing and that the day was going to be fine and lovely. He felt the Siren , listening to her heartbeat as he listened to Thomas’s. Both seemed content enough. But where the open seas were all that was needed to make the Siren fly over the waves, her timbers singing, what would make Thomas happy? To go back to the uniform? Or to stay and be free of his past?
Ah, that was not likely. Not anything more than a strange dream that Alexander was not even sure he should be having. Or why. Yes, why was this man important? He frowned, and peered at the sleeping face. Favoured, undoubtedly rich, gently brought up, pampered, officer, pirate catcher, the list went on. But the other list was more appealing: courageous, kind, amusing (not always intentionally), curious, captivating, capricious. The man had gone to Port Wiley to search for him. And he’d been prepared to suffer rather than betray a boy he hardly knew. Fine qualities in any man, whatever moral ground he took. However confused he was about who he shared his cock with.
His eyes were the green of deep rock-pools.
Bugger it. Alexander rolled his eyeballs, disgusted with himself. Thomas was a man. One who was not averse to sharing a bed with one of his own kind, but who was clearly intent on marriage and children and a career that would end him in the Admiralty. What use had he for pirates, other than to hang them? Or fuck them.
Which was unfair. Thomas had come to this grudgingly, for the fact that he seemed to take great joy in it all. It wasn’t habit, more a rediscovery of something lost.
Alexander shivered, his body alert and alive in a way it hadn’t been in so very long. Not since then. And then, well, he’d been so young. So mad. A ghosting memory of the dream snipped at his thoughts. It was remote enough to make him merely sad. For time seemed to have solved one problem, if not the other.
::::
Chapter 23
He was sitting on deck, lounging on a massive coil of rope when Thomas emerged. The sun hung bright overhead, and the sea was perfectly calm, shimmering in the heat. He felt lethargic, just like the Siren who was basking happily, all sails hauled in as she sat out the calm.
Alexander watched him walk across the deck, avoiding contact with those of the crew who were lazing about, dicing or working on scrimshaw. Mostly the men were below decks, though Stubbs was at the helm and AnaMaria was secreted in her own tiny cabin, probably making a doll of the Admiral and running it through with pins.
Thomas appeared to be much better. His colour, under the fading bruises, was less pale, and his walk was straighter, less careful and almost back to its usual grace. Wearing the same breeches and shirt, his feet bare, he came up the shallow steps and rested himself against the rail just by Alexander’s grubby feet. He looked amused, and his eyes, though narrowed against the brightness of the midday light, teased prettily. “Don’t you ever sleep?”
“I could ask, don’t you ever stay awake. Though I think you’ve extenuating thingies goin’ for ye.”
“Circumstances.”
“Aye, there’s the ones.” He hauled his feet off the warm wood, sat up, crossed his legs in front of him and leant forward, elbows on knees. “Lovely weather.”
He watched Thomas take a deep breath of air, seeing how his nostrils flared as he drank in the freshness bequeathed by the storm. There was scope for him to be such a sensual man. Or rather, to allow those tendencies in himself full rein. All it would take was the right set of circumstances. Which were damn useful things, Alexander thought to himself.
“What’s amusing you?”
“Watching you enjoy the day.”
Dignity clearly affronted, Thomas looked down at him. “Why’s that an amusement?”
“Hush. I liked it, ‘tis all. No offence, Admiral.”
“I wish you wouldn’t call me that.” He sighed.
“’tis what ye are.”
“No. No, I’m not Admiral here.” As he leant back, his hands held fast to the rail, the long fingers curled tight. He stared into the distance, and a lot of the ease in his body bled away. “And as you made clear, in fact I’m dead. So I have no rank at all.”
“You’re not really dead, James, I promise you.”
The pious sincerity at least made him laugh. Alexander watched the way his face creased with amusement, the way his mouth quirked unevenly, and felt a rush of affection. But the closer inspection also made it possible to see that they were shadows under his eyes, not just bruises. So, sleep hadn’t been easy. “What did you dream about?”
Thomas looked at him in surprise, as if amazed that he guessed. Then he clearly remembered, and shuddered delicately. “Guess.”
Blood and pain, then. Alexander stood up, uncoiling himself from the rope to stand facing the sea. Though they stared in different directions, their shoulders just touched. “You can still go back.”
“Can I?”
“Course! You’re – whatever you may be thinking – still Admiral Thomas. You can have your fancy house and hat and have that poncy git Governor Lowe swooning over you. I mean, you don’t have to stay dead. Aye?”
“Maybe not.”
Hating himself, Alexander frowned at the fine pale line of a distant island and spoke cheerily. “Sure, they’d have you back.”
“Alexander.” He felt Thomas half turn, but he didn’t move. “Alexander, I am a failure! I was kidnapped - twice - by a sadistic bastard who really, really didn’t like me much and I failed to escape until you came along and rescued me. So I doubt very much that Governor Lowe will be swooning over me at all, that the disciplinary committee only just about vindicated my actions and that I appear to have unaccountably lost my sanity because I think I might be in love with a pirate…” he broke off sharply.
Turning to him, Alexander saw the sudden apprehension that drew the dark brows together and left Thomas biting his lip. “Jamie?”
“No. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t…” He began to turn, but Alexander stilled him, curling his hand firmly about one taut upper arm.
“Don’t be.”
“If you laugh, Alexander Cruise…” The whisper was so unsteady.
“Look at me. I’m not laughing.” Watching the way Thomas swallowed, and how, as if bolstering his courage, he took a breath before raising his eyes, Alexander kept his face very still. “See?”
Pained eyes searched his face, then eased. He nodded. “No, no laughter. You’re too kind.”
“I’m not kind, James.” He let his hand drop away from Thomas’s arm. “I’m arrogant, self-centred, drunken, debauched and strangely, mysteriously and quite unfathomably taken by someone who seems to feel the same way about me.”
“Oh.”
Alexander looked deep into the green, perturbed eyes. “What we have here, without regard for your future, let’s enjoy it. Live a little, Jamie.”
“I have lived, Alexander.” Thomas’s eyes darkened, reflecting the sea, the sky and Cruise himself. “But maybe never this intensely.”
The words sparked something deep within him. “Jamie… how I want ye.”
“You should hate me.”
“I hate what you did, what you were, not you.”
“I am still those things.”
“No. No you’re not.”
“I still would hunt pirates.”
“Even me?”
“Alexander, no, not you. But you are the strangest pirate I’ve ever seen.”
“Strange, but interesting, don’t y’ think?” Alexander grinned, clasping the rail tight. But his grin faded fast, for he wasn’t really laughing. He searched James’ eyes, but found no answers, just confusion, lust, and yearning. Without waiting for a reply, he stood back.
“Right, let’s see the rest of the Siren .” And with an easy motion he leapt onto the rail, standing there for a moment looking down at Thomas’s surprised face. Then he was climbing. After about twenty feet he looked down, feigning bemusement. “Aren’t you coming?”
Thomas, one hand lifted to shade his eyes, was squinting upwards. “What for?”
“For fun, Jamie!”
“Oh, that…”
Alexander laughed and climbed on. After a short while the ratlines quivered under his touch and he knew Thomas was on his way. Hand over hand, up, the air here lifted from stillness by the slightest breeze, he glanced back, seeing James’ dark head, his face concentrating as he made his careful, sure way upwards. Another twenty feet up, and Alexander swung himself onto one of the yardarms, settling there, quite at home.
Five minutes later, Thomas joined him.
“You couldn’t’ve managed that even a couple of days ago.” Alexander patted his knee as he sat down, one hand braced on a lanyard.
He was breathless, pale. Alexander wanted to lick the sweat off his top lip. So he did. He grinned at James’ affronted expression, and reached up to brush the dark fringe of hair from his eyes. His hand was flapped away. “Alexander, stop it!”
“Why? Afraid the sea birds’ll blush?”
“No… it’s just – unseemly.”
Alexander couldn’t help it, he laughed until he thought he might fall off his perch. “Oh, Jamie, I need you, just as you are to keep me cheered.”
“Glad to have been of service.” Very dry voice. Face that looked, if anything, resigned. Alexander couldn’t resist, he leaned over and kissed it.
“There, a sign of my gratitude.” He giggled again. “But, tell me – is kissing in the rigging an offence in the Navy?”
“Kissing anywhere,” - he emphasised the word by careful enunciation - “is an offence. Between two men, anyway.”
Alexander thought about it. “But it happens, so what? People just turn a blind eye?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes a strict captain will have the men flogged. Officers get demoted, or thrown out of the service.”
“Nasty crime, loving som
eone.”
“Vile.”
“Is that why you asked the Lady Eliza to marry you?”
“Why, so I’d have someone to kiss?”
“So you’d not be tempted!”
“Oh. Maybe. More I think, that I wanted to love her. She is very beautiful.”
Alexander pondered for a while, watching the waves dancing around the Siren ’s bow. “What about your pretty officer, Gill, Gull, Gillie –”
“Gillette. Or you might mean Groves, who is, I believe, accounted the better looking.”
“The one I got a little damp at the edges.”
“Gillette.”
“Him. He’s not interested in women, surely?”
“No idea. I think he lives with his sister in Bermondsey. He’s originally from the Welsh valleys though, so he could be interested in anything.”
“Ah, sheep.”
“So rumour hath it.”
They both grinned. Alexander considered. “Never fancied a sheep, meself. Nor anything with four legs.”
“I should hope not!”
“Ah, that’s not seemly either is it.”
” Animals, children and Rookery whores, They’re immoral, illegal or give your dick sores .”
“Nice rhyme, though I’m guessing it’s not something’ ye learnt in the officers’ mess?” “I like to think I can learn from the men.” Thomas sat there looking virtuous. “I try not to – or I’d probably know more about sheep than your lieutenant.”
Thomas laughed, the sound soft, easy. Alexander wondered at it, at him. As dreams went this was one of his better ones. Despite the nightmares that had slipped in along the way.
“James, show me your wrists.”
“They are much better…” He sounded dryly resigned.
“Aye, or ye wouldn’t be monkeying in the rigging, but show me?”
With a sigh, Thomas pushed his sleeves up and held out his arms, curled fingers up, as if presenting his wrists for chains. The marks were livid still, and though healing well the scars would be there always. It would be a long time before he was pain free, or adept at certain skills.
