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“You ever fucked a girl in the ass, boy?” Ben asked.
Benjamin Hornigold liked to be busy whenever he talked to members of the crew: shucking an oyster, sharpening his knife, or cleaning out his prized twin flintlock pistols. Today, however, he perched on the edge of his desk, looking down his nose at this snotty little deckhand.
He had to admit, the boy was pretty. Too pretty. Nineteen at the most but unripe and lean. The twinkle in his eye would soon be knocked or whipped out of him, and the older lads would take care of that smart mouth of his. As for the dainty wave of his dark, glossy hair, well, Ben would just have to fuck him straight.
“You have fucked a girl, haven’t you?”
Ed shuffled in his seat, looking around the room in case a better answer than yes or no would magically appear.
No matter. The answer was hardly important. Though, from the way he sauntered around the deck like his balls were swinging, he’d probably had someone at least.
“You don’t like me, do you, son?”
Ed shifted in his seat again. “I—”
“No, no, it’s alright. No doubt, the crew have shared all kinds of nasty names they call me when they think I can’t hear them—and enlightened you about some of my more unsavoury interests…”
To his credit, the boy didn’t leap in to disagree. In fact, a glimmer of interest seemed to pass across those bright eyes. Ben curled his lip, trying to keep his grin small, but he knew that glimmer had likely flared across his own face in response.
“You’re a good lad,” Ben mused. He reached forward to pat Ed’s knee.
Edward flinched away.
Ben grimaced. A different tactic then. He pulled his hand away and casually dug out a bit of grit from underneath his thumbnail.
“First Mate Banes informs me you’ve been slacking: reporting late for duty; sometimes not turning up at all.”
“I was helping Iz—”
“Ahhh, young master Israel.” Ben clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Has he been distracting you?”
Edward’s eyes went as dark as a northern sea in winter.
“No,” he said, chest out and chin forward. The poor kid was all puffed up, but he had nothing on him except his bare fists, clenching on his thighs. “He just needed some help with—”
“I don’t ask for much,” Ben sighed. “Loyalty, obedience, basic courtesy. If Israel is standing in the way of you being punctual, I may need to educate the boy.”
Edward leapt up, his chair scraping back and toppling over.
“Don’t you fucking touch him,” he snarled.
Ben grinned with all his teeth. There it was. Every gun had its trigger; it was just a matter of feeling it out and squeezing.
“Easy, boy,” he soothed. “I’m sure we can make some allowances for your first month. For both of you. You want to look after your friend; I want to look after my crew. I think you may find our interests can… overlap.”
Ben stood and stroked a hand over his desk, following the woodgrain. His fingertips met slight resistance. He’d get one of the shitkickers to polish it later.
“You seem to have lost your chair,” he noted, feigning disinterest.
Ed looked less sure of himself. His fists were at his side but his fingers were uncurling, and he didn’t seem to know where to put his weight. That was another thing to add to the list: posture and stance.
He should make the insolent little shit pick up the chair. He could revoke the boy’s privileges: make him sleep on the floor for a start, though he would probably sneak into someone else’s hammock and it wouldn’t be hard to guess whose.
There were other punishments, sure—the cat; a brief keelhaul; lash him to the chair and let all the lads take a turn with him—but that was hardly going to achieve the desired effect.
Ben reached out and tucked a lock of hair behind Ed’s ear. This time the boy didn’t flinch. Ben cupped his cheek, staring down the dark fire in his eyes, and then trailed his hand down the boy’s chest until he reached his groin. He palmed the front of Ed’s trousers, ignoring the boy’s sneer in favour of the way his prick thickened to the touch.
“You don’t hate that, do you?”
Ben continued rubbing, taking his time to feel over the contour of it and chart a course around it. Small enough to fit but big enough to feel. It would do.
Edward had closed his eyes, his jaw hanging slack. When Ben pulled his hand away, the kid let out a whine.
“Like I said, I don’t ask for much.” Ben began unbuttoning his own fly. “Just your fealty. You can give me that, can’t you?”
“Feel…?”
“Fealty: loyalty, honour. You know how to be loyal, don’t you?”
“Sir?”
Ben’s dick thickened at the honorific. He resisted the urge to touch himself—dirty thing—and turned around, pressing in hard against the edge of the desk.
“It’s easy,” he continued, his back to Ed. “You just do as you’re told, no matter how… uncomfortable.”
He waited, hearing the fuse fail to light in the boy’s brain.
Ed was silent.
“Have you ever thought about putting your captain in his place?”
Ben smiled to himself as he shucked his trousers and smalls, stepping one foot out of them to leave them hanging around the other ankle. He resisted the urge to look back over his shoulder at the poor boy’s face. True dominance meant never looking back.
“Are you…” Ed stammered. “Are you saying that if I… you know… then you’ll leave Izzy alone?”
“Now, now, now, what a nasty thing to say. Bargaining and trading like common whores.” He placed his hands on the desk. “But I’m sure arrangements can be made. Infractions overlooked. Punishments redistributed.”
Again, he waited. The floorboards creaked, but he heard no other movement.
“Hurry up, son. There’s a cold draft.”
A small, warm hand tentatively brushed his hip, followed by the quick, huffy breaths of a young man pumping himself to full.
“There’s oil in that pot there. Cook keeps it stocked for me. Careful, boy, don’t let it drip on the floor or you’ll be mopping it up with that pretty mouth of yours.”
He widened his stance, flexing his knuckles against the desk. He yearned to push his ass out, back up on the kid, and swallow the boy’s prick with the puckering kiss of his hole, but Benjamin Hornigold was nothing if not patient.
“There we are, lad, line yourself up. A little higher.” A moan slipped out of Ben unbidden. “Yeah, there’s home.”
There was a soft pressure against his hole, hesitant but persistent, the way a fresh deckhand would knock on his office door. A trickle of oil oozed down the back of his thigh.
“Come in, lad. Ease yourself in. Mm, yeah.” His breath hitched as his hole gave just a fraction. “There you go.”
A firm, slim prick slid inside him, and suddenly he was being stretched apart; the soft length of his ass pushed open and filled. He shuddered. Another thrust from Ed shoved him against the desk, the wood unforgiving and unyielding.
Ben cleared his throat. “You’ll have to stand taller. I’m not lowering myself for you.”
Both of Ed’s hands were on his hips now. Ben could feel Ed straining upward, fucking in higher and deeper, while pulling him back onto his prick.
He slunk lower in spite of himself, savouring Edward’s eager thrusts and the sound their skin made every time Edward smacked into him.
Ben closed his eyes. He could hear the shouts of his men outside, crawling over the deck or up the mast like greedy little ants at a picnic. And there was Banes, barking orders at them and keeping them in check. Good man.
That weedy, pallid Israel would be out there too, working twice as hard as the others and only needing half the lash— and with no Edward to distract him. He’d make a diligent pupil in here too, Ben thought. Where Edward was a hot furnace, Israel was cold steel—forged in flame, but with the fight beaten out of him by god only knows who. Ben would keep his promise not to touch him… for now.
Ed’s pace had slackened, his thrusts shallow and slow.
“Get your head out of the crow’s nest and back on deck, boy!”
Ed squeaked and sped up, but there was still a detached, mechanical air to his motion. This wouldn’t do.
“You ever touch another man in the nethers?” Ben panted. “Handle his manhood? There ain't nothing that makes a man more than fondling another man. Here, I’ll show you. It’s really no different from touching your own.”
He placed his hand over Edward’s—his bear claw engulfing Ed’s delicate hand—and slid it around his middle. He guided it towards his dick.
“That’s it, son. He’s still soft, but you can wake him up.”
Ben clutched Ed’s hand, showing Ed how to touch him: long, flat strokes downward to fatten up the meat. The gravy would follow.
“Don’t you stop moving, either,” Ben instructed. “You’re such a clever boy; I’m sure you can do both at once.”
He allowed himself a groan as Edward found a rhythm, fucking into him from behind while gently pulling his dick. Ben returned his own hands to the desk.
“Hold him tighter. Don’t be afraid of it. That’s it—” Ben broke off on another groan. “That’s it. Nice and firm.”
The wind had picked up outside, whipping the distant voices into a frenzy. Ben could feel his balls tightening.
“Sir?” Edward called, his voice a small, pathetic peep.
“Speak up, son.”
“My arm… I’m getting tired.”
Christ, if they’d been facing each other, Ben would have struck the boy across the cheek. Instead, he dug his fingertips into the wood grain and tried not to clench so hard he snapped off the prick in his asshole.
He took a deep breath. Stamina. That’d be another thing to work on with the boy. But there was plenty of time… plenty of time.
“You can pull it together long enough to yank your own, can’t you?” he said, as calm as an iceberg. “This is the same thing. Or shall we ask your friend Israel if there’s a difference?”
The hand around his dick tugged with renewed vigour.
“Good man.”
Edward was fucking him harder now too, slamming into him. The fingers around Ben’s waist held him firmly and, Ben noted with glee, he wasn’t the only one moaning.
“It’s not bad, is it, boy: having your captain at your mercy? You could do anything to me right now: crush my knob; twist my balls off; split me in half. But you won't, will you?”
“No,” Ed exhaled.
“And why is that?” Ben grimaced, unsure why he bothered asking the question when he already knew the answer.
“Because I like it,” came the voice behind him.
Ben baulked, his mouth agape.
He’d expected Ed to say loyalty, fear, or some mention of his holding Ed’s little friend hostage. Or maybe no answer, just more sullen thrusting and the misguided assumption that the question was rhetorical. He narrowed his eyes.
“You like it?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Ed replied, his voice breathy with exertion. “I think maybe I do.”
Ben blinked. A strange heat tingled over his skin. It had been a very long time since someone had surprised him.
The hand still on Ben’s hip snaked around to hug his abdomen. Edward’s breath was warm over his back and there was now a rolling to his thrusts that felt present and deliberate.
“I like it,” Ed said again.
Ben felt himself relax forward, hands splaying and arms outstretched over the desk. Ed followed him, still holding him with one arm while jerking him with the other.
Ben didn’t speak again; he just let himself be carried on the foamy wave of a sweet young thing pulling him under.
A broken wail from Edward and a series of short, stuttery thrusts lifted Ben up towards his own edge and plummeted him over. Hot semen filled his hole as his own dick pulsed and throbbed under the pressure of Edward’s hand. His body bowed backwards; he shook through an orgasm that felt both wrenched out of his dick and wedged into his chest. An unmitigated cry escaped his lips.
He slumped forward again, panting.
A bead of sweat dripped off the tip of his nose and onto his desk. There’d be a splattering of his own semen somewhere below and, no doubt, a matching puddle gathering between his heels where Ed’s spend was dripping out of him.
There were hands on him, pulling him back and spinning him around.
“Here,” a small voice purred. “I reckon I’ve got this.”
Ben was only half conscious of Ed dropping to his knees and licking him clean, laving his dick, balls and hole with his tongue.
“Good… good…” Ben murmured, coming back to himself. “Wouldn’t want to let your captain’s hands get dirty.”
“That’s right,” Ed agreed, licking another stripe up the inside of Ben’s thigh.
Ben shuffled the boy back with his foot, far enough away that he could bend down and pull his smalls and trousers back up. He coughed and then sniffed; he’d turn his head and spit if this wasn’t his office.
Edward was still on his knees, gazing up through thick, dark lashes. A sultry but earnest look covered his face—he looked almost pure.
Ben cupped the boy’s cheek once again, grazing a thumb over his bottom lip. Ed tilted forward to suck it.
“Good boy. Good boy.”
Ben pulled his hand away and gave Ed a playful slap across the cheek. Ed grinned.
“May I go now, sir?”
“Yes.” Ben stroked his greying beard. The smell of Edward was through it, somehow. “Yes. Once you’ve cleaned yourself up, report to Banes. Tell him…”
He stroked Edward’s cheek with the backs of his fingers and then turned away, busying himself with straightening his desk.
“Tell him to send in one of the newer boys—not Israel.”
“Yes, sir. Will that be all?”
“Tell them to bring polish and a rag. This desk could use some attention.”