by Sean Michael
Chapter Eight
Stephen watched the green island quickly fade, the stretch of ocean growing. The cabin door was not barred, no one had bound him, prevented him from simply going above deck and leaving the ship. Leaving the pirates. Leaving John. He had not done so. Instead he had stayed below, watching the men disappear onto the island before coming back, triumphant, with their ill-gotten booty.
The door suddenly flew open, John striding in, blood upon his cheek and the sleeve of his blouse. A bundle was tossed onto the table, the pirate laughing, eyes wild and alive.
“Is the blood your own, Beast? Am I called upon to patch you yet again?”
John’s eyes met his, something hot flaring within them. Then John looked down at himself and laughed again, stripping quickly out of his blouse. “Indeed, Butcher, it seems that it is and you are.”
“And I suppose there are others in need of my services as well then?”
John shook his head and moved closer. “’Twas an easy plundering and you are not needed anywhere but here.”
The scratch was shallow, more an irritation than a true wound, but Stephen cleaned it, plastered it. John crowded him, half humming, half growling as he moved much closer than was needed.
“Aggravating man. Allow me to work.” He pushed back, John’s excitement contagious.
John’s hands landed on his waist and this time, instead of John pushing into his space, he was pulled into John’s, their hips coming together, John’s arousal clear.
“Did you enjoy your outing?” He pretended not to notice, chin lifted, keeping their lips apart.
“I did, Butcher. Can you not tell?” John’s eyes twinkled at him, hips circling, grinding against him.
“Beast.” He refused to smile. “I am no butcher.”
“No, for a butcher, you are a half-decent doctor.” John winked and grinned, hands beginning to wander upon him.
“You are too smug for your own good, honestly.”
“I have reason to be smug. We have raided the island and not lost a single man.” He was given a look. “Not one. We have replenished our food stores. Brought back treasures. My very own butcher tends to me.”
“Your own, you say?” Stephen smiled and took a sharp kiss.
John moaned into his lips, hands squeezing his ass. “My own,” came the answer as their lips parted.
“Yes. Your own.” There was no sense denying that now.
John took the bandages from his hands and tossed them toward the table, not looking to see if they’d made it or not. “Show me.”
“Pardon me?” Show John how?
John rubbed against him and nipped at his lips. “Show me that you are mine.”
“How?” How could he do that more than by his presence here? Stephen moved closer, hands reaching for John’s belly.
John purred, eyelids dropping heavily. “That’s a start, Stephen.”
“Perverse pirate.” He moved his hands, sliding them up John’s chest until his fingers brushed the peaked nipples.
John jerked, pushed into his touch. “You know me so well.”
“I do. You fascinate me.”
“I believe I like that.” John slid a finger beneath his blouse and pushed it up and off his body.
“The sun is still up!”
John laughed. “And what has this got to do with you and me?”
“It is perversity, pure and simple.” Perversity. Beauty. Sheer hunger.
“And what is this then?” John asked, fingers pushing into his breeches and wrapping around his erection.
“My… Proof of my damnation, my need.” His hips rolled, pushing toward that touch.
John’s hand continued to move on him, sliding, hot. “Is it so terrible, Stephen? To be damned?”
“No. No, not terrible at all.” He whispered the words against John’s lips.
“Yes.” The word was fed into his lips, John’s tongue sweeping in, the hand around his cock squeezing.
Then John let go of his cock and took a half step back, undoing his breeches, pushing them down. The pirate stood naked and proud before him. “Undress, Grey.”
“You still believe you can order me about?” He chuckled, stripping away his breeches and baring his need.
John licked his lips, eyes on him, heated. “I do. If they’re orders you wish to follow. Now kiss me.”
Stephen stepped forward, shaft slapping against John’s belly, the smooth skin almost cool against his heated flesh.
“Kiss me, Stephen. Like you want to.” John’s hands twitched, but they didn’t reach for him.
Stephen went up on his toes, sliding his body up along John’s, reaching for the kiss. John didn’t bend, made him stretch, but John’s mouth opened to his, let him in and John’s tongue met his, tangled with it. They moaned, both rocking together, rubbing, bellies tight and hard. John reached back to hold onto the bed, pushing his hips into Grey, moans filling his mouth. The heat between them grew, steady and strong, the passion intense enough to steal his breath.
John reached out and grabbed his ass, squeezing, pulling him in closer. “Want you.”
“Yes. Yes, I…” Stephen nodded and offered himself over, yet again. “Yours, John. I would be your own.”
“You are my own.” John’s hands spread his cheeks, and pressed a finger along his crease.
There was laughter and cheers coming in through the porthole, the crew singing as they sailed farther and farther from land, making good their escape.
“And you will keep me.” It had been said before, but he knew it now, somehow. Knew it deep in his bones.
“Aye, Stephen.” John grabbed his arms and pushed him onto the bed, following him down. “I will indeed.”
“Good.” He wrapped around his own pirate, rocking them together in a semblance of fucking.
John met his mouth again, answering each of his movements, breath pushing harshly into him. He brushed his fingers over the wound on John’s arm, sliding over the plaster there.
John groaned and nipped as his lower lip. “Just a scratch.”
“Still, you are mine to care for.”
John rolled suddenly onto his back, grinning, arms spread. “Then care for me. I ache.”
Stephen rolled over, too, laughing, biting John hard right above one peaked nipple. John moaned, arching his back, pushing into his mouth. His teeth would leave marks, and that knowledge excited him.
One of John’s hands landed on his back, fingers kneading his skin as sounds of pleasure filled the air. “More, Stephen.”
He slid his mouth down, sucking and licking, as he moaned over John’s skin.
“Yes, just like that.” John writhed beneath him, encouraging every touch, every kiss, every bite. He found John’s nipple with his teeth, worrying it, nipping it.
“Stephen!” John bucked, lifting him, cock sliding along his. The fingers on his back dug into his skin.
Stephen bit harder, spreading his thighs to straddle John’s hips. John reached for his ass, grabbing and holding on, chest rising and falling beneath his lips. His body vibrated, the pleasure and need making him plead for more. John reached for the oil, stretching beneath him and pushing a nipple up into his mouth. John returned hot, slick to his ass, sliding them along his crack.
“John.” Heat flooded him, knees sliding on the sheets as he spread.
Those blue eyes held his as one of John’s fingers slid into him. “The hunger looks good on you, Stephen.”
“You bring it out in me.” He arched, tilting his hips as he took John in.
John looked pleased, pushing a second finger into him, sliding and twisting it. They lit that place inside him, sending a jolt through him.
“John… Don’t. I. More. More.” The words were torn from him, raw and needy.
John pressed a third finger into him, all three going deep, making his body sing. “You can ride me when you’re ready.”
“Beast…” Ride the man like a great pony, indeed.
A hum was his
answer, John opening him, spreading him, readying him. Finally John slid his fingers out and oiled up his cock, sliding it against his ass. He sat up, heart pounding as he pressed back against the heavy erection and bore down.
John slid a hand along his thighs, over his hips and brushed his shaft. The pirate’s hips remained still though, giving him control. His lips parted on a gasp, body accepting John’s shaft, John’s passion.
“So tight,” groaned John. He glided a hand around Stephen’s hip and teased the other across the tip of his cock, sliding over the wet slit.
“Yes.” Stephen began moving, sliding up and down along that heated flesh. Groaning, John began to meet his movements, pushing him a little harder, a little faster. His hands landed on John’s chest as he braced himself, balancing.
“Ride, Stephen. Take what you need, what you want.” John wrapped a hand around his cock, giving him a tight tunnel to push through.
The only sanity was to move, push faster, demand his pleasure from John with a deep cry.
John matched him movement for movement, cry for cry, muscles moving beneath his hands, between his thighs. “Soon, Stephen.”
“Yes. Yes, John. Soon.” He nodded, panted, eyes near rolling in their sockets.
John tightened his hand upon Stephen’s erection, sliding the other up to find one of his nipples and tugging, twisting. Stephen went tight, stiff, seed pouring from him in a rush.
“Yes!” John shouted, snapping his hips up. Heat filled him, John’s muscles all tight as he climaxed.
Stephen slumped down, panting, heart pounding. John stroked his back, the wide chest rising and falling rapidly beneath him.
There was a fiddle playing somewhere below deck, the sound faint.
“The crew sounds pleased.” He was not too far gone to be beyond decent conversation.
“Drunk at least.” John chuckled. “It was a good raid. Not as good as the last one we made.” John gave him a squeeze, cock shifting inside him.
Stephen chuckled. “It isn’t every day a pirate crew finds their captain a butcher.”
“No. And not every day a butcher finds his passion.”
Stephen pinched John’s belly, chuckling. “I am no butcher, you realize.”
“No?”
“No. Beast.”
John laughed and grabbed him, rolling until he was beneath the strong body. “I’m going to keep you anyway.”
“Do I have your word on that, my John?”
“You do.” No fancy flourish or pretty words, just two simple words.
“Then we have an accord, Captain.”
“What we have, Butcher, is one another.”
John’s mouth descended upon his, hard and quick. He opened to it, hands tangled in John’s hair, heart pounding its agreement. He had nothing but a pirate captain, a beast.
It was enough.
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
Beer and Clay: Milling
Sean Michael
Excerpt
Chapter One
Damon finished his paperwork and online ordering for the Corner Pub, then double-checked his banking through the web access. He supposed it was too early to expect the deposit from the insurance—it hadn’t even been even a full week since the robbery and shooting. At least Bill was recovering. It could have been much worse and he wasn’t hurting for the cash.
Dealing with the insurance, with replacing what had been broken, and keeping his staff from freaking out had taken up a large amount of his time over the last few days. Between that and Toby needing to work in his studio, they’d not spent very much time together and it was beginning to make Damon itch. After a whirlwind week of hot and hotter running sex, plugs and piercings, he was feeling a little like he’d suddenly gone cold turkey.
Today, though… Today he was going to go sit for his boy. Toby was going to take pictures, and also do some work in clay while Damon posed, if he was inspired. Damon hoped Toby was. He also hoped to tempt Toby into some non-artistic fucking. Making sure he had lube and condoms in his front pocket, Damon locked the door to his office and stopped by the bar on his way out.
“I’m headed off for the day, Teddy. You call if you need anything, okay? And I mean anything.” It would be the first time he’d left the building while the bar was open since the shooting.
The big bartender gave him a confident smile. “You got it, boss. Don’t worry—we’re going to be fine.”
“I know it.” Damon was going to be positive about this. Things hadn’t gone great for the burglar the first time around—he wasn’t likely to come back for seconds.
Damon gave his place a last look, then headed out, planning to walk to Toby’s studio. It wasn’t all that far. Still, he’d not gone more than a block when he decided he didn’t want to wait and hailed a cab.
As the city flashed by, his anticipation rose and by the time he was getting out and paying the driver, he was more than halfway hard. It made climbing the stairs to Toby’s studio a little awkward, but so what? God, he had it bad. And he didn’t care.
Eagerly anticipating his lover, Damon tapped sharply on the door. He could hear the music from under the door, the sound vibrating the air with a dark, deep rhythm. He loved how Toby was uninhibited about his sensuality when it came to his art. Alone, in his studio, Toby let it all hang out and listened to his needs.
Damon knocked again.
“Coming!” The door opened, and Toby stood there in the tiniest pair of soft shorts, a huge needy erection, and clay streaked everywhere. Damon could see the ring at the tip of Toby’s cock, pushing at the soft shorts. That had to be both driving Toby crazy and turning him on at the same time.
Damon licked his lips. How could Toby have ever thought himself undesirable? How could he have not been snapped up before Damon had done it? Thank God he hadn’t—Damon knew how lucky he was.
“You going to let me in, baby?” Damon’s voice was thick, colored by sudden, sharp desire.
“I am. I’m working. No bad touches.” Toby’s wild mass of red curls was tied in a topknot, wrapped in a bandana.
“No bad touches?” Damon closed the door behind him, reaching for all that skin.
“Uh-huh.” Toby’s pretty pink nips were hard as stones, calling for him.
Of course he couldn’t really play, not the way he wanted to. The piercings needed to heal. They also needed to stay clean. He was going to have to doctor them when Toby was done, clean up the clay.
“What’s a bad touch?” Damon asked as he stroked around Toby’s nipples, avoiding the freshly pierced flesh.
“Oh, God…” Toby’s body moved with the music, hips punching with the bass. Fuck, that was hot.
“Not this.” Damon stepped closer, his fingers drifting down to trace Toby’s cock through his shorts. “Are you wearing a plug?”
“I’m working…”
He reached around with his other hand, rubbing Toby’s ass, then pressing along Toby’s crack. There was a flat base at Toby’s hole, promising wickedness.
“You’re needing,” Damon pointed out. “I’ll just help you out and then you can get back to it.” He jostled the end of the plug.
Toby’s lips parted, the pale skin flushing a pale rose. Pretty baby.
Keeping one hand on Toby’s ass so he could keep playing with the plug, Damon brought the other one to Toby’s balls, rolling them through the soft material of those shorty shorts. A dark spot appeared on the cloth, beginning to grow.
Humming, Damon went to his knees to take Toby’s covered cock into his mouth. He was gentle, mindful of the penis ring, but he did suck, pulling the flavor in and further wetting Toby’s shorts.
“Oh, God.” Toby’s little cry heralded a thrust, a jerk, and a bigger wet spot.
Damon kissed the head, then stood and gently worked the shorts over the tip of Toby’s cock, careful not to catch the glinting ring. Then he took Toby’s mouth, his tongue sliding in. His sweet boy pushed close, the sound he got pure, desperate sex.<
br />
Right. No touching. It was a good thing he was more apt to listen to Toby’s body than his words.
Sucking on Toby’s tongue, he wrapped his hand around Toby’s hot flesh. His baby was hard as nails, leaking for him, and clay-covered hands pushed into his hair. He worked Toby’s balls and the base of the plug at the same time.
“Please. Please. Please.” Toby’s words were like a chant. Needy boy.
“You want my permission to come, boy?” God, wouldn’t that be hot? Toby coming on command.
“Damon!” Toby climbed up his body, arms and legs wrapping around him, Toby rocking hard against him.
“I’m taking that as a yes.” Damon wrapped his hand around Toby’s ass, encouraging the movements.
That little penis ring slipped over his belly, nudging and bumping him. Damn, that was sexy.
Damon ran his nose along Toby’s jaw, right to his ear before whispering, “Come for me.”
Damon loved Toby’s wild little sound, his cry. The splash of heat on his belly. Groaning, he kissed Toby again, pushing his tongue into Toby’s mouth. Toby was right there with him, whimpering softly, sliding them together.
Toby was going to stay hard for him, he could tell. Never in his life had he met such an Energizer Bunny.
Damon started talking. “I bet the rings have been making you crazy. Did you play with yourself, Toby? Have you been coming and coming, or have you been keeping your hands to yourself, waiting for my touch?”
“Working. I made it all about working.”
Damon groaned. “I bet the pieces you made are pure sex.”
“Uh-huh. I finished the one I told you about. The companion piece to my…”
“Needy little pain-slut sub statue,” he suggested at Toby’s hesitation.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t need to, I know you, baby.” Damon got Toby, understood what made his lover tick.
Toby leaned into him, tongue on his throat and Damon carried Toby farther into the studio. “I want to see. Point me in the right direction.”
“In the back. They wanted to see each other.”
“The sculptures?” That was fucking adorable.