The sailor has made his interest clear, but what is behind the Captain's strange reluctance? Fate has brought these two together - will duty tear them apart?
Still working out my release schedule - might continue to be weekly, might move to biweekly. This has gotten to be a little more than I'd expected, so apologies for all the exposition! Pinky promise there's some steamy stuff in there for you too.
This is part of an ongoing series - if this is the first you've seen, I recommend that you go back and read chapter 1!
*****
I was out of practice at waking up in beds that were not mine.
My years in the mines had taught me the importance of constant vigilance. I'd barely been able to sleep anyway, without the rocking of a ship, the gentle singing of the sea. How can you trust the land? It's likely to drop out from under your feet at any moment. I'd never felt safe on solid ground; in prison mines, even less. Deep repose, the kind that steals your bearing from you and lets you rest your soul as well as body, was foreign to me.
So when I woke, dazed and rested and not recognizing where I was, and found myself both bound and naked, I had an understandable moment of panic.
Then I felt the ship creak beneath me, heard the ocean's relentless whirl, and calmed. So long as I had the sea, nothing could harm me.
I let myself exist in that space, my freedom singing through my veins like rushing channels. The sunlight was warm and I was not in chains; the ocean called my name and I could finally respond.
I tried to sit up and bodily remembered the ropes around my wrists. This wasn't a real problem; knots couldn't hold me. But I found myself staring at these knots, as if they were something more.
The Captain hadn't wanted me to untie them.
I sighed and leaned back in the bed. The Captain.
I didn't understand what had happened between us the night before. I understood that he was an attractive man; I understood that my body had, somewhat inexplicably, reacted to that. I could deal with that. People had told me for years that men could be beautiful in the same way that women were. I supposed I had just found someone who had convinced me.
But no, it was more than that. Because he wasn't beautiful like any woman I had ever seen, or like any man could ever be. He was the most incredible sight I had ever seen collapsed into the skin of a human being. This wasn't an extension of something I knew; the way he made me feel was like nothing I had ever experienced before. Nothing about him was like anything I had ever known. Not the way his lips had felt on mine, when he had finally leaned down and kissed me. Not the way his hands had turned my skin to ice while lighting my soul on fire, threatening to make my entire body crack under the pressure. Not the way his mouth had felt, as his bit and kissed his way down to my...
I closed my eyes and pressed them against my arm, refusing to look down at the fully erect cock that had risen between my legs. I couldn't be turned on like this, not just by thinking about him so mildly. Had I not gotten enough last night? I was confused, so confused at how my body reacted to him. To the mere thought of him. He utterly bewildered me, in everything that he did.
It was not just his touch, or his body, or his gentle way of being so rough that confounded me so. It was the way he could command me. It was the way I wanted to do nothing more than make him happy, than to give him pleasure.
I looked up to my hands, still tied as a courtesy to this Captain. Why was I listening to him? He could ask me anything, and I would obey. I felt that in the very core of my being, but for some reason it didn't frighten me at all. No - I felt nothing but excitement.
I sighed. Fate would do what she would. I supposed it only made sense that after so much pain from fighting, the man who would accept my surrender would give me such pleasure.
Not that he'd accepted it.
That thought soured my mood instantly. His actions the night before had been so strange. Who was he to tell me what I deserved? Who I deserved? He didn't know what I wanted; he didn't know what I'd done.
Well, I thought. That was hardly his fault.
Still, he could have listened. I could have explained some things to him, if not all of it. I felt a ping of frustration at his lack of willingness to try.
I leaned back, trying to push all of this from my mind. There was nothing to do about it now. Later, perhaps, I could try to talk some sense into him. For now, I laid and enjoyed the feeling of being at sea.
In time, I had to get up. My body forced me - I really had to pee.
I undid the knots the Captain had left me in. He was very good, and it took me a few moments, but soon I was on my way to the bathroom.
I relieved myself, sighing contentedly. On the way back out the door, I caught sight of myself in the full mirror and did a double take. I examined my body closely in the polished silver. Rope burns scalded my wrists. Angry bite marks covered my sides, red proof of pain I didn't remember being in. On my neck, a few dark marks bloomed, bite marks and blood bruises from a rough mouth. A hand print bruised each of my thighs, yellow well on it's way to green, each finger distinct in it's pattern and grip.
I did a quick check for other damage, but I didn't see anything. I didn't bother to check my back. I didn't like looking at it. Besides, I already knew what damage was there, and it wasn't last night's fault.
All in all, it wasn't bad. I'd certainly had worse nights, and those hadn't had any joy to speak of. But if the Captain had seen this, after what he had said last night...
I stopped. Thinking about the Captain garnered a myriad of complex emotions that I was not in the mood to deal with. I pulled myself from the mirror and stepped into my breeches, found my shirt where it had landed, then returned to my reflection to see what could be done. The sleeves could be pulled down to cover most of the damage on the arms, but there was no way to wear my collar that wasn't obvious I was hiding something. In the end, I just left my neck exposed.
I sat on the bed and wondered what to do next. If I were playing nice, I would lie back down and tie myself back up, but that was kind of pointless now that I had dressed myself; it was obvious I had been up and moving about. I could read, perhaps. The Captain had an impressive chest of books.
My stomach grumbled. I hadn't gotten dinner the night before, or breakfast yet. I looked at the door. It was stupid to go out and wander around the ship. It was literally asking for trouble. After all, as far as the men knew I was supposed to be in the cells. I was a prisoner.
Who cared about the other men. The ship was filled with nobodies. There was only one man who could command my attention, and I was busy putting him from my mind.
I unlocked the door and strode out into the hall.
I figured the mess must be somewhere near the dinner hall they'd taken me to the night before, so I retraced the steps as best I could. The closer I got, the stronger the smell of cooking became, so I knew I had to be on the right track. Soon, I could hear chattering voices darting through the hall. I followed the mix of sensations to the doorway of a cafeteria.
Enough eyes looked up as I ducked through the doorway that I caused a stir. Half of those eyes started and reached for blades; the other half blinked drowsily at the unrecognized face. That motion set of a ripple of similar reactions through the rest of the ranks, until the entire room was a silent bristle of suspicion and knives and half awake eyes.
"Hello," I said. "Is this where I could find some breakfast?" No one answered, so I took it upon myself to find out. I walked though the benches, stepping carefully around the gathered ranks until I reached the cook. "Could I get some food, please?"
"Crew only," he told me sourly.
"I've been informed that my status is prisoner." I didn't believe it, but I knew better than to go against the rules with cooks. I leaned down on the counter and peered into the kitchen. Pots boiled over with delicious scents, roiling through the small space and almost overwhelming me with homesickness. The kitchen had always been my favorite place on any ship. "I don't know if that counts for anything, but I'm very hungry."
"Prisoner, huh." He looked me up and down. "Well, they did say you were big."
I shrugged and spread my hands. Didn't really have much to say to that.
"I already sent your food up with the Captain." He turned to walk away.
Uh-oh, I thought. That meant I probably didn't have much time before a confrontation. I felt a tingle grow in my stomach and tried to kill it fast. "That's odd, he sent me down for it." I smiled as brightly as I could.
The cook looked me over carefully. His eyes noted my overly bright smile, a gesture I was obviously unfamiliar with, then moved to my lopsided shirt and landed last on the love marks on my neck. His scowl grew. "You know what you're doing?"
