by Vivienne Cox
“I won’t be fencing for a while.”
“Nor doing any fine needlepoint.”
“Ah, my favourite occupation, taken from me so callously!”
They exchanged a look, amusement and shared dark humour. Then Alexander bent forward, and kissed the marred skin. He felt Thomas flinch slightly, but the wrists were kept still, and he brushed his lips against them gently, all around, before straightening.
They sat companionably for a long time, just being, hardly thinking. The sun lowered and the breeze lifted, until in fact they could have made sail and been on their way. They did nothing though, just watched from their eyrie as the world dipped around them, their bodies touching at thigh and shoulder, at knee and where their feet brushed together, the touches hardly more than accidental, yet at the same time deeply meant.
Glancing sideways, he saw that Thomas was staring out to sea. Alexander thought he looked happy. It was a good feeling, just sitting watching him. A glance was thrown his way, and Alexander smiled wryly and looked down the vertiginous drop to the deck and the sea. The wind was lifting again, and the calm water was stirring, the waves breaking here and there with tiny spumes of white. Close by, a fin broke the surface, and then a dolphin lifted from the sea, arching high before diving back into the water. Just the one, just the once. Alexander peered at the water, wanting it to happen again. There, a high leap, the silver body twisting in the air before it slipped back into the depths. He’d never tire of seeing them. Dolphins, porpoises, even flying fish – creatures that skimmed and leapt and defied their element.
The sea broke again and the fish leapt high, flicking her tail as she laughed at the less able Siren .
“What a saucy…” Alexander shook his finger at the now empty water. “You shouldn’t make fun of those less able!” A head popped up from the waves and stared curiously at the huge ship, at the man shouting at her from so high in the clouds.
“They almost seem human, sometimes.” Thomas’s voice was warmly amused. The creature swam backwards for a while, then with a sleek turn was gone. “Apparently the legends about mermaids came from when mariners first saw dolphins.”
“Are you trying to tell me that mermaids aren’t real?” Thomas looked taken aback. “Well, yes.”
“Bloody ‘ell. You’ll be telling me there are no sea monsters next! Come on.” And he stood up, balanced lightly on the yardarm, and held his hand out.
“Where now, to see a sea monster?”
“Don’t be daft, there’s none around ‘ere. We’re going back down, o’ course.” He gripped Thomas’s hand and carefully pulled him upright. They stood for a moment, easy with the deep
sway and roll of the becalmed ship. “As I’m hungry.”
“Hungry.”
“Aye, and after a bite to eat, I’m taking you into my cabin, locking the door and then showing you exactly how inventive a pirate can be.” He’d meant the words to be light, to keep the banter frivolous, but the look on James’ face, the want he saw there, the need, it gave him hope and despair as one, and before he could think too deeply, he twisted to one side and slipped, hand over hand, down the ropes and was gone.
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Chapter 24
Alexander Cruise was the most infuriating creature ever. Thomas sighed in frustration. It took a moment before he could move, long enough for the other man to have reached the deck and be waving back up at him. Thomas climbed down slowly, taking the more sedate route, careful of his wrists. Finally, he stood back on the solidity of the Siren ’s timbers. Brushing himself off, he stomped over to Alexander, who was talking to a burly member of his crew.
A man who seemed remarkably familiar. Surely not, but, taking into account the years that had gone by, the deeper wrinkles in the man’s face and the darker red of his skin… “Mister Stubbs?” He knew he sounded incredulous, but he couldn’t help it.
The man jumped as if bitten. “Aye, nice o’ ye to remember me, Lieutenant.”
“Stubbs, mind, ‘es a Admiral now,” Alexander interjected.
“Oh, that’ll be it. Admiral.”
“You’re a pirate?” James still looked mildly stunned.
“Quick, very quick, don’t ye think, Stubbs?”
“Aye, Cap’n. Good thing the Navy ‘as such clever officers.”
Piqued, Thomas straightened. “I’m sorry, but the last time I knew, you were being hauled off ship for being drunk whilst on watch.”
“Maybe that’s why he became a pirate?” Cruise leant forward, peering at each of them. “Maybe?”
“Why, don’t you care if your lookouts are so drunk they can’t see their bottle let alone the horizon?” He was actually curious, and his words had no bite. Though he’d never understand how any pirate boat ever managed to set sail. Or catch anyone unwary. Except they’d done it to him. Which was something else he really didn’t like to remember.
“No.” Alexander shrugged blithely.
Stubbs grinned toothily. “Cap’n Alexander found me in Port Wiley when ‘e needed a crew.”
“Found ‘im in a pigsty.” Alexander winked. An image floated into Thomas’s head that made him feel slightly queasy.
“Bucket o’ water in the face an’ a tale to make ye shiver o’ nights.” Apologetically, Alexander made a face. “We did need ‘im.” “An’ I came. Despite the omens…”
“What omens?” Thomas glanced between them.
“We’ve a woman on board.” He squinted sideways, nodding in the direction of the quarter deck and AnaMaria. “And now we’ve a Admiral. For all he don’t quite look the part.”
“Why am I bad luck?” Indignantly, Thomas tapped his own chest. “I’m not a bloody albatross!”
“Navy man on a pirate boat…”
“Ignore Stubbs, Jamie. He sees portents and signs in the way his dinner lands on his plate.”
“Mock ye not, Cap’n, I knows.” And with that cryptic comment he stalked off.
Thomas stared after him. “Mister Stubbs, well I never. He was a good sailor once.”
“He still is.”
“Though he never liked women much, I do recall that.”
“Fond o’ pigs though.”
“Alexander, please, you’ll put me off my supper.”
“Which I’m ready for.” He smacked his lips cheerily.
“Incorrigible…”
“But very lovely.” With a flutter of his eyelashes and with a swirling turn, he swaggered off towards the stairs.
Not that Thomas had been going to disagree. Not at all. He was already anticipating the evening. And the night. With a spring in his step he followed along, down into the lower decks and the crew’s mess.
The room fell silent as he walked in. A man with a parrot on his shoulder stood up and, taking his tin plate with him, walked out. Two others just turned their backs and dug into the food. Everyone else just continued staring. Thomas felt Alexander’s eyes on him, but he didn’t turn, just went to the huge pot of stew that stood to one side, and ladled himself a plateful. He slid onto a bench, smiling at nobody in particular. “Spoon?”
A tiny man reached into a box and passed him one.
“Thank you.”
“Polite, ain’t ‘e?”
A voice from the other side of the room. Thomas took a bite of the food. It was surprisingly good. “This is excellent – compliments to the chef.”
A murmur of voices seemed to concur that he was indeed polite. And apparently had good taste as well. Thomas was onto this third mouthful when Alexander sat down next to him, flicking his hair out of the way as he dug into his meal.
Slowly, they all started chatting again. No one spoke to him, but then no one was rude, or even went particularly out of their way to ignore him. When he finished, and sat back, someone offered him an apple, which he accepted gracefully. Crunching his way through it, he caught Alexander’s amused eye, just as a hand slipped onto his thigh. He stilled. The hand crept higher.
“Right, lads, I’m off to do some work on the charts – anyb
ody needs me? Ask AnaMaria.”
Ah. Charts. Thomas swallowed the apple that somehow had turned dry in his mouth, and tossed the core onto his plate. Curiously, he wondered if he should just leave with Alexander, or if he should wait. Surely it was no secret he was sharing the captain’s bed? Which probably made him the captain’s Ganymede. Or maybe just strumpet was a better word.
A tap on his shoulder and Alexander motioned for him to stand.
No secrets then. He’d never been called a chart before. Glancing around, he noticed that no one seemed to be unduly upset. He smiled at them all. “Thank you for supper.”
“No problem, mate.” One man gave him a mocking salute. Another just took his plate away. Though when he stepped out of the door, and Alexander closed it behind him, immediately there came the muffled sound of loud conversation.
“See? Knew they’d like you.” Alexander patted him on the shoulder and walked past.
“Like?”
“Aye. Phelps gave you ‘is spoon instead of stabbing you with it.”
“Thank you, I am so reassured.”
“Thought you might be.” He stopped just at the lowest step. “I’m going on deck, to make sure everything’s nice and under control, how about you go to bed. ‘Spect you need a lie down…”
Thomas came to stand close to him. “You know, I think I do. Very tiring, climbing the shrouds and eating good stew.”
“Mmm, and I think I need to check you over – top to toe. For injuries, of course. All of you, every inch.” But instead of smiling, he stood very still, then shivered once. When he spoke again his voice was low, threaded with desire. “Every inch, James.”
As if in a tight closed room, the air was very hard to breath, like it was thickening around him. Thomas wondered at his hunger, it was something that tore at him, a need to touch, to have, to own. A hunger that was so clearly reflected in the other man’s eyes that it was akin to staring in a mirror. And in answer to a question that was quite silent, he simply said, “Yes.”
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Chapter 25
As if preparing for a ritual, Thomas stripped down to his skin, and washed in a bucket of water he’d brought up to the stateroom. With a torn length of cloth he soaped and rinsed, paying careful attention to his cock and balls and arse, his blood humming with awareness of who would soon be touching them. His cock had been half-hard since supper, lifting away from his groin in an eager fashion, as if it was begging. Well, hopefully he wouldn’t have to beg tonight. Alexander seemed as keen-edged as he was himself, a delicious, fortuitous circumstance that made him quite breathless with anticipation.
Drying himself, he searched around and found a mirror. It was small, ornate enough to have belonged to a princess. Soaping his face, he settled before it and took the open razor by its horn handle. Then carefully he scraped at his stubble, until chin and cheeks and neck were quite smooth. Another rinse took the last of the soap away, and he dried the razor, folding it before placing it back on the table. A comb, its edge encrusted in pearls, he ran through his hair, tidying its ragged length as best he could. In the mirror he looked calm. Strange, as he wasn’t sure that was the word for what he felt. Light of head and body, for sure. Happy. The thought made him smile, and he watched himself, wondering what Alexander saw, what there was in him that Alexander wanted. Though he wasn’t going to question it too much, just accept the gift, and give back as much as he could of pleasure.
Slowly, he stood up and, naked, walked into their cabin. Theirs, not just Alexander’s. The massive bed was so inviting, though the bedlinen was rumpled. Folding the blankets back, he smoothed the sheet flat and plumped the pillows as he remembered seeing the maids at his mother’s house do. Not that it mattered. He’d want the pirate anywhere. Lying on dust or silk, it didn’t make a difference to anything but their comfort.
It was close to sunset, and already the room was full of the warm, rich light of day’s end. It wouldn’t last long, and tonight there would be no moon. Lighting a taper, he paced around the room, lighting the two candles that sat on the table by his bedside, shielding the flame and going to the shelf that ran under the window, and putting the flame to the candles there. Their light was faded against the day, but soon they would be needed, for he wanted to see Alexander Cruise naked, to watch him as they made love. He let the taper burn through, and dropped the ashes onto a dish.
He looked around. There was nothing else to do. Crossing to the window he stared out at the perfect red and gold sky, and let his thoughts wander without intent. There was no room in him for reason, this was all about need and sensation. Need and necessity. For he had no doubts about his own cravings. And whatever else he knew about the pirate, he knew that he was desired in the same way.
In a way that he’d never been. Ever.
Though in truth he felt different too. Changed even more from the man who had counted a day well spent if a pirate died at his orders. He felt, what? Lighter. Enlightened. Maybe the philosophers needed to meet with a pirate named Cruise. He seemed to hold the answers to a universe of questions.
Thomas smiled, and turned. And there, silent and still, watching him, was Alexander. He was wearing his shirt open, and water trickled down his chest.
“You bathed.” Inane comment. James sighed at himself.
“Aye. I thought you might prefer it.”
“I’ll take you any way you wish.” He shrugged in mild embarrassment, hearing the way his words could be interpreted. Then, dry-mouthed, added, “Or you could take me.”
“No preferences?”
“No. Though both, at some time, if that is your pleasure.”
“I’ve a thousand pleasures, Jamie. I like to fuck, and I’m greedy. I want everything.”
Everything. A shiver ran down James’ spine. “It’s yours.”
“Then we’d better prove it, hadn’t we.” And with that Alexander stepped into the room, the curtain falling closed behind him. He’d already stripped the scarf and bone from his hair, and loosed the braids that kept it swept from his face. As he paced forward he stripped off his shirt, and the fine, sleek planes of his body were touched rose and amber by the sunset. Very serious, he came and stood by Thomas and, reaching out a hand, stroked a thumb over his cheek. “And my pleasure tonight is to have you, Jamie.”
He moved closer, and the hand around Thomas’s head pulled him down. Close enough to feel each other’s breath, not close enough to touch.
“Alexander, yes.” And then the lips brushed his own, and the hand clasping possessively about his head pulled him closer. James moaned into the kiss, wanting more, though it was withheld as the lips traced up his face, kissed his eyes, his forehead, the line of his nose and then finally, delicately, his mouth.
“Mine, Jamie. You’re mine.”
The lips whispered against his own, and James could only reply with his body, pushing wantonly forward, his hands sliding around Alexander’s slim ribs for his knees were weak and his cock was already hard, pushing insistently up, its swollen head rubbing on the fabric of Alexander’s breeches.
“Say it.”
“I’m yours.”
“Yesss.” Alexander’s muscles rippled as he shuddered, though his face remained sharp, feral as a wild animal. “Gods, Jamie, what have ye done to me?”
Thomas could only shake his head. Whatever had been done, had been done to both of them. Though before he’d finished the thought, Alexander kissed him. Like drowning. He opened his lips and let go, his hands clutching Alexander’s shoulders as if they were a spar at sea, and his only hope and refuge and succour. The feel of skin against his own, the heat of the slim, strong body as it held, him, hands touching, smoothing, weaving around him, creating such sensations that he whimpered into the kiss. Alexander growled in response and his tongue delved deeper, taking him, shocking him with the need it exposed in himself. In the abject desire.
Teeth bit into his lower lip and the pain was simply pleasure. He bared his own and bit back, sucking Alexander’s fl
esh, licking as his own hands tore into shoulder muscles and his hips thrust forward to be met and matched, heat for heat. He dragged his mouth away, and stared at Alexander wide eyed.
“Your breeches.”
Thomas cupped Alexander’s hardness, watching avidly as all the laziness snapped from the dark eyes. He hardly recognised his own voice it was so low, breathy. “Take them off.”
Alexander swallowed hard. Then shook his head once. “No. You do it…”
And Admiral Thomas knelt, his hands fumbling clumsily to undo the buttons that fastened the pirate’s breeches. The sunset had to be glorious, for Alexander stood in a pool of rose-gold light; light the colour of treasure, or purity. The colour of haloes and incense. All the scars and inked patterns that marked his body stood out starkly, the ship that sailed across his flesh speeding through the waves as his chest rose and fell with harsh, panting breaths, the scars on his arm twisting as he clutched the air. Another button and his head fell back. Another and his cock was finally free, bouncing up eager as a hound in full flight.
Pulling the fabric down, scenting soap as well as spice, James ran his hands down the long legs. The breeches pooled at Alexander’s brown feet, then were kicked away. Moaning, Thomas leant forward and kissed a thigh; lightly haired, the muscle spasmed under his touch. Another kiss, higher this time, and Alexander cursed him, soft and sibilant, potent and fluent. A smile then, though he was just as eager, just as tight wound, but he had this moment. And his lips traced up, brushing a vein, the dip where thigh met groin, the scratchy darkness of hair that cupped the eager length of spearing flesh.
“Jamie…Gods, man, you… please…”
A hand touched his head, gentle for all that it trembled with its restraint. Obedient, he kissed, just there. One dry brush of lips on doe-soft skin. Another, this time with his breath behind it. Another, and he opened wide, and sucked the tip, and just the tip, mouthing the head, back and forth, letting it pop in and out of his mouth as he licked slowly into the weeping slit. Back and forth, rocking his head until he felt the hand jerk hard against his head, the fingers digging in, pulling him back, away.