Okay, so this is a one shot with no future installments (a first) and (drum roll please) my first mm romance. I really hope you guys like this since I plan to have a LOT more mm romances, because I mean seriously the only thing better than one hot hunky guy are two hot hunky guys getting it on. So please point out anything I got wrong, or things you'd like improved. Edited by the fabulous AdriannaBelen, beta read by Nikki E. Comment and rate.
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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.
