by Noah Harris
And now that madman pursued him.
Thomas knew he would not stop. There would be no rest for either of them until this was finished.
“Where is the captain?” he asked Seamus, who sat slumped on a barrel, filling his pipe.
“Down in his quarters, I think,” he replied in a voice heave with weariness. “He’s having trouble reverting back after his change.”
Thomas nodded. Osier had had trouble, too, when some of his friends had gotten killed in the tavern brawl, and Thomas would bet all the treasure that Spanish map promised that Captain Seawolf valued his friends a lot more than the werebear did.
With reluctant steps he made his way down to the captain’s cabin.
The sounds from within made him pause. He could hear heavy breathing and rapid pacing. Captain Seawolf was muttering to himself, his words punctuated by animalistic snarls.
Thomas raised his fist, hesitated, and then knocked. The footsteps abruptly stopped.
“Begone!” came a howl within.
Thomas took a step back, a chill racing down his spine. “The ship needs you, captain.”
“Thomas?”
“Yes.”
“Go away. I wish to speak to no one.”
“But I need to speak with you. Please unbolt the door.”
There was a moment’s silence before Thomas heard the bolt slide away. Lowering his eyes, Thomas pushed open the door and nearly got bowled over by the heavy smell of musk. Without looking at the creature standing to one side of the door, he turned, blew out the lamp, closed the door behind him, and slid the bolt home.
Both stood silent for a moment in complete darkness.
At last, Thomas gathered to courage to speak. “It’s my fault so many of our shipmates are dead.” The words came out in a rush, both a confession and a self-damnation.
The captain didn’t respond. Thomas licked his lips, trying to breathe shallowly so as not to inhale too much of the musk, and went on.
“I don’t want any more of them to die. I know worry over your crew is one of the things keeping you from changing back to human, so I wish to reassure you. Drop me off at the nearest port and send word to the Royal Navy of where I am. Captain Stone will cease pursuing you and come for me.”
“You’d sacrifice yourself for my crew?” the words came out low, bestial.
“If it saves lives, yes.”
The cabin felt hot, the air oppressive and heavy with musk. Sweat beaded on Thomas’s skin, and he felt an urge to disrobe.
A strange sound came from the darkness. It took Thomas a moment to realize what it was—the sound of sniffing.
“A generous offer. But that is not why you came,” came the inhuman voice.
“I mean it.”
“You do, but that is not why you came.”
Thomas shuddered, knowing it was true. With trembling hands, he fumbled at his clothing. Within a minute he stood naked in the darkness, too nervous to move.
“The ship needs its captain at a time like this,” Thomas whispered. “I know how to make you calm down. I know how to make you change back.”
The heat in the cabin grew. Another wave of musk made Thomas’s head swim. The sound of sniffing came closer.
“You are a fool to do this,” the shifter said. His voice came out as a growl. The werewolf was close, so close. Thomas lifted a hand to touch him, then let it drop before making contact.
Moving from memory, Thomas took two steps and reached the bed. He got on his hands and knees on the mattress, his ass facing the pitch black room. He heard Captain Seawolf move around behind him, sniffing his way through the dark.
Those sniffs drew closer.
Something warm and wet pressed against Thomas’s crack. A hot breath tickled his puckered hole. The sailor shivered. The shifter pulled away.
“Aren’t you afraid?” came the growling voice from the darkness.
“I am,” Thomas replied, his throat dry, his head swimming with the musk. “But I am more afraid of never feeling what it is like. I have to know. Even before I knew werewolves were real, I had dreams of mating with one such as you. And now that I share a ship with your kind, I don’t know how I have resisted for so long. Take me.”
A pair of clawed hands grasped him around the thighs and a hard, hairy body slammed against his ass. A hot, lubricated cock thrust between his cheeks. The slick member rubbed against the inside of his crack, gyrating frantically, trying to find the hole. Thomas almost drew away in fright, but desire conquered instinct, and he moved his hips and spread his legs, trying to guide the thrusting cock into him. The hard tip shoved against his hole but at the wrong angle and it pushed to the side, forcing a yelp from the sailor.
Two more jabs, and then it hit home. Thomas let out a cry as the thick organ thrust into him to its greatest extent.
Thomas learned that werewolves mounted their mate in a much different fashion than werebears. There were no slow, powerful thrusts, no steady rhythm. Instead, Thomas was subjected to a frantic thrusting faster than any human had ever given him. His face and chest were pressed against the bed from the force of the treatment, his ass opening up and giving in to the repeated penetration of the captain’s thick, slick member.
And what a strange member that was! Thomas had enjoyed Osier’s werebear dick many times, but while it had been huge, it had been more or less human. Not so with this werewolf. He could feel every curve of it inside him. From a thin tip it flared out thicker than any man’s dick could be, then grew narrower before coming to its base. It was like having a small fist inside him, banging again and again deep into his hot willing hole.
Thomas’s breath came in choking gasps. He was faintly aware of his own erect cock bobbing up and down with the motion of his body, of the captain’s claws raking against his thighs, of the rocking of the ship through heavy seas, but these all faded into the background as his entire being was taken up with the sensation of that strange, inhuman cock hammering into him. It wasn’t so much the pain—after a month in this crew, he had become accustomed to that. It was the domination that took over his thoughts. In that firm grip with that hard cock pumping furiously away in his most tender, vulnerable spot, he was totally the captain’s.
That domination was about to be taken to a higher level. The captain’s thrusts shortened. Instead of nearly coming out with each backstroke, he pushed farther and farther inside in faster, smaller thrusts. At the same time, the shifter’s member swelled.
Thomas gasped with pleasure and surprise, for the captain’s cock wasn’t swelling along its entire length, but only at its base. It grew, relentlessly stretching the inside of the sailor’s sphincter to the breaking point.
“W-what’s this?” Thomas managed to say through clenched teeth.
“My knot, boy,” came an almost incomprehensible growl behind him, accompanied by a hot waft of breath. “You’re about to learn what it is to truly mate with a werewolf.”
The base continued to grow. Thomas gripped the sheets as the pain became all but unbearable. And yet there was a deep pleasure in the sensation, too, for Thomas knew that the captain could not pull out now even if the beast had wanted to. The captain’s thrusts slowed to only a slight push, that thick, strangely-shaped member trying to get a little more inside. Thomas could feel his ass clamped firmly around the werewolf’s knot. He and the werewolf were tied. There was no escaping the creature now.
The sailor’s body thrilled at the feeling of being bonded to this shifter, to be one with him in this inhuman fashion. A warm flush flowed inside him. Though his brow was knitted and his teeth clenched, he smiled. The captain, he knew, was cumming. The semen didn’t shoot out in a great stream like a man or a werebear did, but rather in regular spurts that never seemed to end. As more and more of the juice filled Thomas’s insides, he wondered how the creature could have that much fluid in its body.
Suddenly, he felt a great urge to cum at the same time as the captain. His cock was swollen, the knot inside him was pressing
against that sensitive spot that tickled his senses. He was ready.
Running a hand down his sweat-soaked chest to give it some lubrication, he grasped his own member.
He came at the first stroke—a shuddering, powerful orgasm that wracked his body and made him bite the mattress and tear the sheets off the bed. Shot after shot of hot liquid spattered on the bed as his ass clenched around the thick knot inside him. He could feel the werewolf continue to cum inside him and reveled in the thought that they were experiencing orgasm together.
His mind went blank. Only sensation remained. He did not know how long he writhed on the end of the werewolf’s cock before his mind finally returned to him. Then he slumped, utterly spent, onto the soaked bed, the werewolf still tied to him. He lay there panting for many a long, exquisite minute as he felt more and more of the captain’s sex juice steadily filling him up.
Thomas finally managed to gasp out a question. “H-how long does it stay swollen?”
“For many minutes yet,” the captain growled. He sounded slightly more human. Thomas’s tactic of seducing him had worked on him just as well as it had on Osier.
The thought of the werebear made him pause. Osier would be jealous when he learned of this, and there was no way to hide his and the captain’s coupling. Few secrets could be kept on a ship. Nor did he want Osier to be ignorant of this. Sex with Captain Seawolf had been even more pleasurable than with the werebear. While the werewolf had been dominant, he hadn’t been domineering.
After another couple of minutes, Thomas, lying face down, managed to regain his breathe and enough strength to rise onto his hands and knees.
“I need to tell you something,” Thomas admitted.
“What is it, boy?” the captain asked, running his claws deliciously down the sailor’s sweaty back.
Thomas paused, gathered his courage, and spoke, “Osier is planning something.”
“What? A mutiny?”
The quickness in the response made Thomas wonder about the relationship between the two shifters. They had always acted like boon companions. Perhaps that had been a show on Captain Seawolf’s part. It certainly seemed to be a show for Osier.
Thomas took a deep breath, and then told him everything; about the fight in the tavern, about fleeing with Osier, about hiding out and mating for the first time, and about finding the dying Spaniard. He told him about the treasure map and how Osier had taken it from him. He admitted his submissive behavior and told of Paddy’s veiled threats. He told of his fear, both for him and the ship, and of his certain knowledge that within a matter of a few days Osier and his men would strike.
Captain Seawolf listened to all this in silence, punctuated every now and then by a low growl. Thomas could tell he was enraged. The werewolf’s cock, which had begun to soften and shrink inside him, grew once more, painfully stretching his abused flesh. The claws, which had already lashed his thighs with crisscrossed scratches, ran again along his smooth skin.
Thomas’s heart trembled, for he had wanted to calm the captain, not make him worse, but once he had started to speak he found he couldn’t stop. He’d kept it bottled up for so long that now, it came out like a flood.
Once he finished, Captain Seawolf kept silent for some minutes. Thomas knew he was struggling to control himself. After a time, he managed, and the werewolf’s breathing came more regularly. His member softened, and his claws retracted. At last, the captain pulled out. The knot, which had shrunken, was still almost as large as an apple and came out of Thomas with a loud pop, followed by a rush of hot semen that spilled all over Thomas’s thighs. The sailor sighed and fell back on the bed, limp and happy.
“Thank you, boy. That was just what I required.”
“Are you calmer, Captain?”
“Yes. One moment.”
Thomas heard the captain dressing. After a minute, he struck a match and lit the lantern. Thomas blinked in the light. When he managed to focus on the captain he found him back to normal.
Thomas wasn’t. He was a sweaty mess lying limp on the bed. That was just fine by him. He felt like he belonged there more than the festive quarters of the regular sailors. Despite all the experiments of the past month, sporting with one partner in private remained more enjoyable for him than anything else.
But there were more serious matters at hand.
“What do we do?” Thomas asked.
“Nothing, for the moment,” Captain Seawolf said, buttoning the top button of his red coat. “We have a ship to fix and a storm to weather. Osier will make no move while we’re in rough seas pursued by a British ship of the line. In the meantime, you keep quiet.”
“But what of us?”
The captain looked at him. “What do you mean?”
Thomas’s heart sank a little. After that wonderful session, the musk still heavy in the room, he felt an emotional attachment for the captain beyond what mere pleasure should have afforded him. He tried to clear his thoughts, knowing they were muddled. Instead of saying what he felt, he asked a slightly different question. “Osier will learn of our coupling.”
The captain nodded. “That he will. Just tell him that you did it to calm me, and it worked. He will have to be satisfied with that.”
“Won’t he suspect that I betrayed his confidence?”
“He is arrogant, but he is crafty, as well. You will have to convince him. You will have to prove yourself.”
Thomas gulped, knowing what proving himself would entail.
“Get dressed,” the captain ordered. “There is much work to do, and we need all hands.”
“And what of my offer?”
“To give yourself up? No true pirate would ever ask you to do such a thing. Your Captain Stone is not the first person to come after a member of the crew seeking vengeance, and he is not the first to find us and draw blood. When a man or woman signs up for this ship, they share all the risks of the others. No one blames you for this, boy. Now put it out of your mind. We will speak no more of it.”
Thomas felt a tear run down his cheek. He wiped it away before Captain Seawolf noticed.
“Now, come on. There’s work to be done,” the werewolf said.
Thomas struggled into his clothing and staggered out to help the rest of the crew. The seas had grown rough again. At this latitude, Thomas knew, storms often came in waves. The front coming in from the east wasn’t nearly as strong as the one that had hit them during the battle, but they were in for some rough work ahead. Their previous labors had only been to take care of the most pressing matters. There remained much more work to do. Thomas helped with the sails and helped a caulking crew for several hours trying to seal the battered port side from the relentless crashing of the waves, and only after a long, hard slog of work was his shift done and he could stumble down to the sleeping quarters and collapse in a corner for several hours of deep, dreamless sleep.
When he awoke, Paddy was bending over him, a knife in his hand.
Thomas sat up with a start, all muscles tense. He did not know the hour but sensed it must be daytime, for he saw no one other than he and Paddy in the sleeping quarters, although it was still dark down below thanks to the covered portholes.
Paddy gave him a wicked grin and brandished his knife. Thomas froze.
“Why the startled face?” the Irishman asked. He looked at his knife as if he had seen it for the first time. “Oh, this? Have no fear. I was merely cleaning my nails, see?”
Paddy put the tip under his nails and started to pick the tar out from where it had stuck during the caulking job.
“Wake up. It’s midmorning. The captain said to let you sleep late, but you can’t sleep all day. There’s work to be done. Besides, Osier wishes to speak with you.”
“About what?” Thomas could not keep the suspicion out of his voice.
Paddy stood but did not put his knife in its sheath. “Come and see.”
Knowing he had no choice, Thomas got dressed. Paddy watched him with a sharp eye the entire time, and he did not have an
opportunity to conceal a weapon.
“How goes the ship?” Thomas asked as they passed through the middle deck and to the stairs leading to the lower deck. There was little in the lower deck but the hold, and other than when they were loading or offloading booty, there was no reason to be down there. Paddy was leading him somewhere where they would be alone. His heart started beating faster.
“Bad,” Paddy replied in a nonchalant voice. “Two more died last night, Gustav and Rodrigo. Much caulking remains to be done, and Roaring Randy is worried about the foremast. It got hit by grapeshot. I think it’s all right, but he wants to splint it to be on the safe side. A work team is on that now.”
“Roaring Randy is talking about the mast while lying abed with one arm gone?”
Paddy chuckled. “That man loves the ship the way some people like sweet German youths. Here we are.”
Paddy had led him into the lower hold, where a lone lantern shone. This deck was low, and the two pirates had to hunch over. Much of the space was taken up with barrels of sugar and kegs of rum, as well as crates full of various goods filched from the ships the Manhunter had come across.
Paddy led him along a narrow aisle between the heaps of booty to a small clear space.
Osier sat on a keg of rum, his broad hands on his knees, glowering at Thomas as he came into view. Four other pirates sat nearby.
“Hello,” Thomas said in a dry voice, remembering at the last moment to add “sir.”
“You’ve been a bit distant lately, boy,” Osier rumbled.
Thomas became aware that Paddy stood directly behind him. He chose his next words carefully.
“It’s the Virtue, sir. Ever since we spotted that ship to our aft I suspected it was she. I have been preoccupied.”
“Not too preoccupied to bed down with Radbert. And now my men tell me you’ve visited the captain’s quarters.”
My men. Thomas looked around. These hard-eyed men were not the crew of the Manhunter. They were Osier’s crew.