Drake guided his cock into Timothy’s wet and loosened hole, pressing his spongy cockhead against the tight opening. The heat engulfing his cock was almost unbearable and he groaned.
The sea was a cruel, cruel bitch and the men crazy enough to pit themselves against her probably deserved whatever she could throw at them.
But Timothy Smith was one neither crazy nor a bloody sailor. He’d been trying to escape his father’s debtors in England and happened to stow away on a merchant’s ship down in the cargo hold. He’d heard snippets from the sailors saying that they were headed for the Caribbean but Timothy hadn’t particularly cared. Anywhere was better than the dark and damp hovel he’d shared with five older brothers and his gambler father. He’d spent four blissful weeks eating dried fruits, and occasionally stealing from the galley when he became tired of his fare – not that he was particularly picky. At home he would have to fight for whatever scraps were left over after his brothers had their fill.
Then bloody captain just had to go ahead and engage in a sea battle with a far superior pirate ship, and of course they were captured. Most of the crew had been forced to walk the plank. Timothy had hoped he’d be overlooked, hiding in one of the oversized wooden barrels but of course it was his lot in life to be screwed over. Someone had knocked into the barrel and he’d come tumbling out. All that ran through his mind at that very moment when over a dozen coarse and bearded men had been leering down at him were two things: number one – he didn’t know how to swim, and two – he’d probably drown a virgin.
It was at that moment the pirate captain, one of the biggest and roughest men Timothy had ever laid eyes on, parted the crowd. Tim was ashamed to admit it but he had been very close to shitting his britches when the man had pulled him up. Never, not in a million years, even with a sword at his throat, would Tim admit that he’d screamed like a prissy girl and fainted dead away. But in his defense, the up close and personal view of the captain’s vicious scar that bisected the left side of his face had brought to mind all those ghost stories his brothers used to tease him with; particularly the story of the pirate captain with a white scar down his face who ate the flesh off of little boys who ran off to sea.
Timothy liked to think his mother was looking down on him that day. Once he’d realized he wouldn’t be forced to walk the plank, he’d jumped at opportunity to work as the pirate captain’s cabin boy. He wasn’t naive enough to think that if he hadn’t agreed to the job, he wouldn’t have become one of the other sailor’s whore. In the merchant ship, he’d been privy to more than a few sailors bending over for another sailor. The guttural groans and masculine moans shouldn’t have made his throat grow dry or have his cock harden when he’s stared in abject fascination at the pumping pale buttocks of another man.
In shame, he’d slid his trembling hand down his flushed body to his aching shaft and stroked himself to the cacophony of skin slapping against skin and their pleasured moans. He’d never come so hard in his life, not even after he’d kissed the scullery maid from the Earl’s house and she’d let him feel her ample bosoms. She had been quick to pull away when he’d gotten to her bare breasts and he’d run home and wanked off to her wet kiss.
But that paled in comparison to what he’d seen. Since joining the pirate crew, he’d seen more than a few of the sailors sail in and out of the Captain’s chambers. Like the blushing virgin he was, he always ran away the second he heard groaning coming from the cabin and only came back after he was sure the captain had finished. For some reason, he didn’t like thinking of the Captain with other men. Captain Drake would laugh at his easy blushes, taunting him with his innocence. More than once, Timothy would have to strip the captain’s bed of semen stained sheets.
Timothy clung to the rope banded around his waist, the other hand holding onto a railing so he wouldn’t be swept away like many of the pirates before him. Timothy knew this storm was punishment for his sin; he should have never watched those men. He really shouldn’t have watched those sailors and he definitely shouldn’t have masturbated to what they’d been doing. But he had, and now this sea storm was going to take him straight to Davy Jones’ locker. He was sure he was going to die with these mean and horrible men that he’d been forced to work with for the past month and he’d never see his family again.
Bloody everlasting hell.
“Come on boy, you look like death’s coming for you,” Captain Drake shouted over the deafening crash of waves battering the three mast ship, affectionately named King’s Ransom. Drake looked like one of the devil’s minions as he flashed a smile in Timothy’s direction. It was intimidating, but Timothy had learned early on in his short employ that if he didn’t speak up and at least make an attempt at bravado, the captain would roll right over him.
“If you haven’t noticed, it seems the sea is pretty damn hungry for foolish sailors that think they can outrun her!” Timothy struggled to be overheard but the captain heard as he let out a roaring laugher.
“She’s a downright beauty, isn’t she?” Drake yelled back to Timothy, his thick arms bulging with strained muscles as he fought to hold the wheel of the ship still. No matter how much the captain made him uncomfortable, Timothy had to admit those wet and rippling muscles were drool worthy. He groaned. There he went again, ogling another man even in the eye of a storm. He fully expected to be struck down by lightning.
“She is not a beauty, she is a horrendous-“
“That’s my mistress you’re badmouthing, boy.” Drake’s voice was menacing, even more so than the sound of men screaming as they flew about the ship and Timothy flinched. He hated how the captain went from teasing to murderous in one second. He was expected to joke and laugh when the captain was amused or the captain would get insulted. But now that he had made a joke, Drake was still displeased. Timothy huffed; it didn’t matter anyway if he displeased the Captain. He’d be dead soon anyway.
Suddenly, a lightning bolt cracked across the sky and hit the ship, right where Timothy’s rope was tethered to a sturdy railing. He screamed as he felt the rope snap and he flew through the air. The ship lurched dangerously, a merciful wave crashing over the small fire started by the lightning. Water crashed over Timothy’s head and he swallowed a mouthful of foul, salty water. The seawater went up his nose and clogged his ears; it felt like his entire head was filled with the vile stuff. His hands and feet scrabbled at the slick wood, searching for traction but he knew he was going to slide off the deck.
Rough hands grabbed at the scuff of his neck and pulled him from the claws of death. Timothy clasped at his savior, feeling the captain’s solid muscles against his much smaller and scrawnier body. Needless of propriety – not that pirates’ had any, but Timothy was after all a newly initiated one – Timothy wrapped both his arms and legs around the captain. To hell with the captain’s anger, Timothy was willing to risk it.
Surprisingly, Timothy felt the man’s chest rumble with laughter as Timothy plastered his whole body to the brawny captain. One of the man’s arms came to band around Timothy’s waist, holding him in a secure embrace.
The captain leaned down so that his lips brushed against the wet rim of Timothy’s ear. “You alright, little Timmy?”
He hated that nickname, but the captain insisted on calling him that. He didn’t feel like wasting his breath when he had such little left and he was still shaking from his near drowning so he merely tuned his face away, tucked it under the Captain’s chin, and waited for the storm to abate. Now that Timothy was in the arms of a man who taunted death at every turn, Timothy strangely felt … safe?
No, that couldn’t be. No, it was impossible.
And yet, Timothy had never felt so warm and secure as he did now wrapped so embarrassingly around the older man.
The storm continued to rage around them and thankfully the captain was too busy to tease Timothy when he let out the occasional whimper. The ship rode the waves, guided under the captain’s skillful hands but Timothy felt him tiring. He was only steering with one hand, the other still holding on to Timothy. He felt a little guilty and after the ship crested the next wave, he loosed his hold and slid down his body.
If anything, the Captain’s hand only tightened around his body.
“Hold on, dammit!” The captain’s growl was lost in the sounds of the storm but his fierce scowl had Timothy quickly climb back onto the captain. He crossed his legs behind the captain’s back, resting his feet just above the man’s perky buttocks. Not that Timothy had noticed if they were perky or otherwise.
“Oh God, oh God, oh god…” Timothy began to chant as he saw the larges wave of the day tower high above the ship. For a moment everything went still and Timothy squeezed his eyes shut.
Timothy opened his eyes at the curse and looked up at the captain’s face. He looked resigned and yet defiant. It gave Timothy the courage he needed. He prayed to god that he would make it through this; promising he would pray regularly if God did and he would resign from his short lived career as a pirate. He even prayed for his captain, promising god that he’d try to steer the man into a legal business. Only if god didn’t kill him.
When the wave crashed over the ship, Timothy dimly heard the break of wood as the old gal finally broke under the intense pressure. Men shouted as they were flung from the ship, broken pieces of wood flying everywhere. It was a chaotic mess and Timothy would have lost every sense of where and what he was if it hadn’t been for the captain. They flew into the deep abyss of the sea but both still clung to each other. The captain was Timothy’s only life line.
Timothy felt the man’s arms falling and knew he was dragging the man down. However, Timothy was selfish and he couldn’t will himself to let go. The captain pried him loose and Timothy wanted to cry out. The only thing he got was a mouthful of water.
But he needn’t have worried. The captain only maneuvered him onto his back until Timothy was hugging him like a monkey from behind. It freed his hands to be able to swim to the surface. Timothy used all his muscles to cling to the captain, only imaging how undignified he must look. The captain didn’t try to swim away, but used all his muscles to keep above the surface every time another wave sent them down.
It must have been hours before the sea finally calmed down into an eerie silence. No sign of life was to be seen for miles. Even though he hadn’t known the men on the ship very well and they usually treated him like shit, Timothy felt a pang of sadness at their loss. The captain and he were the only ones bobbing along the surface, alone in the vastness.
“Do you still think she’s a beauty?” Timothy croaked in the Captain’s ear.
The crazy man nodded, not looking back at Timothy. “Never been more beautiful.”
In a way, Timothy had to admit it was beautiful in a barren, dangerous sort of way. He laid his head down on the captain’s shoulder. “What do you think happened to the other men? Do-Do you thi-think-?” Timothy choked, biting back a helpless sob.
The captain only grunted and began swimming. Timothy dropped the subject and clung on. He was so grateful to the captain but he didn’t think any words could express his gratitude. He didn’t think the man wanted them anyway. The captain swam for hours, seemingly tireless. At one point, he had asked Timothy if he could swim now but Timothy had blushingly stuttered out that he didn’t know how. That had earned him another mocking laugh and the captain had continued to swim.
The past week with the Captain’s crew had taught him a lot of things; a lot of things that were lacking in him that is; He couldn’t cook, even though the cook had spent hours trying to beat him into making something edible in the Galley. He dropped gun powder and had almost set the ship on fire, so he’d summarily been banned from the canons. Neither was he allowed to go near the sails or the ropes, basically the stern and starboard.
The captain had more patience with him than anyone else. The first time Timothy had tried to shave him he’d almost put another scar on the man’s face. Timothy only cleaned and took care of the Captain. When he wasn’t doing that, he was usually on deck scrubbing the floors or cleaning out the chamber pots. Oh, how he hated that. His brothers had made him do that at home, too. Timothy sniffed, thinking about his brothers. He’d probably never see them again.
“Land ho, Timmy,” the Captain huffed, his burning muscles straining at the pressure he put on them.
Timothy glanced up and saw to the distance a small speck. Was he dreaming? If he was, he’d at least like to drink from a coconut before he woke up.
“Hurry,” Timothy urged. The Captain grunted, quickening his paces. Timothy bit his lip, knowing how much of a strain he was but at least he was a scrawny strain.
The captain finally reached shore, crawling onto the pristine white beach on his hands and knees before finally collapsing with half of his body still in the water. Timothy rolled off him, lying beside him and looked up at the still sky. Oh god, but how wonderful the soft and yielding sand felt against his back. It was a lot more solid and unmoving than the bloody, goddamn sea.
He rolled over and got up on his elbows, looking at the small island in the middle of nowhere. The beach went on for miles on either of them. A few yards of white sand gave way to a large forest, getting thicker and thicker. He just hoped one of them was a banana or coconut tree.
Timothy looked over to his companion when he didn’t respond. His heartbeat stuttered when he saw that the larger man wasn’t moving. Cursing, Timothy went up on his knees and pushed at the captain to roll him over. It took some effort, but he finally managed to roll the man over on his back.
To his relief, the captains’ chest rose up and down with his shallow breaths. His eyes were closed and he looked to be sleeping. Sand marred one half of his face, the side that was scarred. Personally, Timothy had begun to think the captain was handsome but only for small moments that he attributed to insanity. As soon as the coarse man opened his mouth, not even his eyes, that attraction went right out the window.
Biting his chapped lips and hoping he wasn’t about to have his hand bitten off, Timothy lightly slapped at the captain’s cheeks. When the light taps didn’t even get a wince out of him, Timothy put more force into his hits. The captain groaned but that was the extent. Swinging his hand back, he let it fly with all the force in his body.
The captain sputtered and came up swinging, but Timothy moved out of the way with just inches to spare his cheek from the man’s lethal fist. The burning in his palm was enough pain for one day.
“I fucking carry you through a storm and you slap me, boy?” the captain yelled, but there was little heat in the words. He rubbed his reddened cheek and looked at Timothy ruefully.
He did look tired. Timothy was on the verge of apologizing when the captain’s derisive words stopped it.
“Felt more like a gnat’s bite anyway,” the Captain grumbled as he lumbered to his feet.
Timothy huffed. “You could have let me drown.”
The captain raised an eyebrow at him.
“Captain,” Timothy added, rolling his eyes only when the captain turned away to survey the island.
The man walked towards the forest, a frown on his face. He went up to a few trees, running his hands around the trunk before moving on to the next tree. Vaguely, Timothy wondered if too much sea water had muddled the man’s brains.
When he was finally finished inspecting the trees for god knows what, the captain turned back to Timothy with a big grin. Yep, definitely muddled.
“Today’s a good day, Timmy,” the captain exclaimed.
Timothy’s mouth gaped. Of course, of course it was a good day since they had narrowly escaped a watery grave only to be stranded on a godforsaken island. Never had there been a better day.
The Captain chuckled as he walked closer, urging Timothy’s mouth closed with one finger under his chin.
“Call me Drake.”
Timothy frowned. “O-kay? Captain Drake-“
The captain shook his head vigorously. “Just Drake. And I’ll call you Timothy in return.”
Timothy pulled away from his hands, ignoring the tingling where the captain had touched him. “So now you remember my name.”
Drake shrugged. “I like Timmy but if you insist, I’ll call you Timothy.”
Timothy threw his hands up in frustration. “I’m not insisting-“
“Alright, alright, I’ll go back to calling you Timmy. You should have told me you like me calling you by your pet name.”
“I’m not your pet!” Timothy screeched, knowing for sure the captain had gone nuts. No, make that Drake. If Drake was going to call him by a pet name, Timothy was perfectly entitled to call the man a pet name too. They were no longer on his ship so right here on this island Timothy and Drake were equals.
“But you’re so cute and prickly like an angry little kitten,” Drake cooed.
Timothy lost it, going for Drake with his fists drawn back. Drake used his momentum to turn Timothy’s body against him, coming up flush behind him and holding his hands immobile in front of him. Timothy struggled but Drake only tightened his hands.
“I’m going to let you in on a little secret, little Timmy,” Drake whispered in Timothy’s ear, his hot breath making him shiver. “When you bite, I bite back. And I take my blood twofold.”
Timothy could have sworn he felt the quick flick of Drake’s tongue against the lobe of his ear but before he could react, Drake pushed him forward and away. Timothy stumbled, kicking sand everywhere with his feet but he managed to stay upright. He glared at Drake who just grinned back at him.
“Do you think there is any food around here?” Timothy asked for the lack of anything better to say as he looked around.
Drake had a cryptic look on his face as he answered. “Let me just look around. Why don’t you stay here and gather some driftwood for fire?”
Timothy narrowed his eyes at the captain. Why did he feel like Drake was looking suspicious? Before he could put a finger on it, Drake took off into the forest. Shrugging off a feeling of helplessness, Timothy bit back the cry to tell him to stay or to at least let him come along. Growling in disgust, mostly at himself and a little at Drake, he went about trying to gather something to make a fire with.
He found some twigs and dry wood that must have washed ashore from other wrecks and formed a small, tight circle to begin his fire. Trying not to despair over what had probably happened to those men on the ship; he gathered two rocks and tried to spark a fire. Within a few minutes, he had a small fire going. After feeding it with some dry palm leaves, he sat down and held his clothes away from his body to better dry it. He was so engrossed on his task; he almost didn’t notice the long shadow that came to tower over him so menacingly.
Timothy jerked around and saw to his astonishment two bottles of dark brown liquid and a loaf of hardened bread, cheese, and dried meat.