A Pirate’s Pride
“A Pirate’s Pride”
By Mychael Black
In my forty years, I’ve never worried about growing old. I was always one step ahead of the hangman’s rope; worrying about trivial matters was not worth my time when my neck was on the line. But now I had the time, and things I’d not given thought to in the past were beginning to enter my mind. Things like last night’s failed explorations. Well, perhaps not so much failed, as curtailed.
Shoving back the thoughts, I hefted another timber and balanced it on my shoulder. The fence was nearing completion, and once done, it would give us space for small livestock. We hadn’t the land for anything ambitious, but a few smaller varieties would do well. Silas built the shelter last week and we hoped to get everything settled before the cold set in.
Almost a year had gone by before we made it back to Espana Pequena. Our little cottage on the hill was as we’d left it. A healthy sum kept it in general repair while we chased our fortune. Jean Florin’s trove gave us the means to survive rather comfortably once we returned, and we remained ever watchful for hints of new quarry.
The rains were heavy now, taking their toll on the land and the dark mud oozed up over my boots. Yesterday’s rain had turned the earth into a quagmire, making my work more difficult than need be. Still, despite the lack of purchase my feet had on the ground, I managed to erect the last fence post. If only other things were that simple.
I scowled and cursed, giving the wooden post a good, strong kick. Last night weighed heavily on my mind. Was I really so old as to lose my ability to perform? Though Silas hadn’t cared, as my fingers and tongue finished what my cock could not, I felt less than whole. What manner of man cannot fill his lover to the point of climax? I kicked the post again for good measure.
“Unprovoked attacks? Now that’s not like you, Captain Bowers.” A strong hand rested on one shoulder, then the other, Silas working the tension from my muscles. “Are you still concerned about last night?”
“How can a man call himself a man when he can’t keep his cock hard enough to fuck?”
“You are every bit a man,” Silas whispered in my ear, those hands working their way down over my chest.
“An old one.”
He chuckled. “Aye, but still a man.”
Growling, I pulled away and headed back into the cottage. I filled a bucket with water and grabbed a rag, dropping onto a chair just as Silas walked in. I tugged my boots off and began scrubbing the quickly-drying mud from them.
“I am not old,” I finally announced, pushing back the voice in my head that continued to argue otherwise. Though whether I was trying to convince him or myself was a matter unclear even to me.
“Old enough to have loved my father.” Though he said it in jest, Silas’ sharp tongue had a way of making my jaw ache as I clenched my teeth together.
I resumed cleaning without looking up at him. “I’ll have you know,” I said with conviction, “that Jack Lords was the eldest between us.”
“And this has to do with the topic at hand… how?” His wit was dry, abrasive at times. Now was no exception.
Grumbling, I set to my task with renewed vigor. I was not old. In fact, I daresay I was in my prime. Surely, that accounted for something. Every seadog, at least once in his life, finds himself unable to perform. One time — maybe two — wasn’t enough to question my prowess. Or was it?
Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Silas. He was young, a strong, healthy male with only a hint of world-weariness in his eyes to make one see past the air of innocence. He could have anyone he wanted. Yet, who was he with? A pirate of nearly twice his age. Of course, it was I who brought up my age — not Silas. I also promptly chastised myself for it. Silas merely agreed. There were times when I wished he was not so honest with me.
“You look pensive.”
I shook my head, clearing it of whatever daze I’d been in. “It’s nothing,” I said, resuming the task of cleaning my boots.
“Hmm?” I looked up, only to find Silas crouched before me.
“I’ve know you for over a year now, Ian Bowers. I know when something is troubling you.” There was no pity in his eyes — only concern. It amazed me how well he knew me, how he knew when to stop provoking my temper.
I tossed the rag into the water bucket nearby and sighed. “I’m old, Silas. Nearly twice your age as it is. Why are you with me when you could have anyone you wished?”
“I think you know why.”
“A younger man would not have the… trouble I seem to have.”
Silas rolled his eyes. “Perhaps not, but a younger man doesn’t have your spirit, your soul. Besides, even if you could never take me again, rest assured that I can certainly take you.”
I chuckled at that. “Very true, my dear Mr. Christian.”
“I have a possible solution.”
“I see. And that would be?”
Silas held up a thin strip of dark brown leather. I reached out and touched it, wondering what he had in mind. “Come to bed.”
Skeptical, I stood and followed him into the bedroom. We met in a kiss, the exploration of my mouth deliberate and slow. The last of my worries faded and I gave into him, moaning at the taste his lips, his breath. Silas eased me back onto the bed and set the leather aside to undress me. My clothes dropped in a pile on the floor and his soon joined them. Then he went to his knees between my legs, breath hot as he kissed his way up one thigh. Eyes closing, I threaded my fingers through his hair, pulling the ribbon holding it. Silas’ hair spilled over my hands, the tips brushing my thighs, my stomach. His tongue blazed a trail up my shaft and I groaned, tightening my hold on him.
“Keep your eyes closed,” he murmured, the words drifting over my hardened flesh.
I nodded and soon felt what could only be the strip of leather. It warmed with every pass over my balls, up my shaft, then down again. I felt Silas watching me as he dragged the strip of leather along my cock. The sensations were maddening.
“Get on with it or prepare to deal with the consequences,” I growled.
My young lover chuckled, nimble fingers joining the supple leather in the excruciating, delicious torment. My hips lifted of their own accord as Silas began looping and winding the leather around the base of my cock. Then he stroked a fingertip down my length.
Hissing, I arched into his touch, eyes opening. My breath caught as I stared at my cock. The skin was dark, straining against the leather binding it. Clear drops seeped from my slit, then dripped to my stomach. I half expected to hear a sizzle, as hot and flushed as I felt at that moment. Silas barely brushed the tip and I jerked, head slamming back onto the bed as lightning bolted up my spine.
Words escaped me completely, desperation replacing them. Silas’ cool, slick fingers circled my heated flesh and every thought process stopped, save one. With every stroke of that wicked hand, one thing became certain: either my cock would explode… or my heart would.
The urge to give in was strong, but the constriction around my cock kept release just out of reach. Silas pumped his fist up and down, much longer than necessary to prepare me, and all I could do was thrust into the touch, breathing heavy. Then the warmth of his hand left, and I looked down just as Silas crawled on top of me. His blue eyes were hazy, glazed over in pure lust as he sank down onto my cock. Slick, tight heat enveloped me and the world faded, leaving nothing but the exquisite pain of my engorged flesh buried in my lover’s body.
I knew that sound, knew it better than anything else in my life. Hands on Silas’ hips, I drew my legs up and thrust, driving my cock deeper inside him as I tugged Silas down. He shouted, fingers digging sharply into my chest. I stared up into his eyes, watched them widen when I ground our bodies together. It wasn’t often I rendered him speechless, but when I did, it was a sweet revenge to his sharp tongue.
I flipped us, putting Silas on his back, and covered his mouth with my own. Every thrust and grind of my hips drew another moan, another gasp, out of him. I reveled in it. I pushed him harder, worked us both closer to climax, my strokes deep, quick. Silas gripped my shoulders, and then my upper arms, as if he didn’t know what to hold onto. With the aid of the leather keeping my own release at bay, I set out to prove what even an old seadog like myself could do.
Silas broke away from the kiss and arched, my name wrapped in a growl. I took the opportunity and attacked his neck, biting and kissing, the surprise in his voice perfect. Sweat beaded on his skin as I worked his body with everything I had. My cock swelled when the bittersweet taste of Silas’ skin burst on my tongue. Panting, he clawed at my arms, his thighs shaking around me as I took him over and over, my balls slapping just below his hole. I caught his wrists and pinned them to the bed above his head, then renewed my assault on his mouth, pushing my tongue between his lips as I drove my cock into his body.
His shouts filled the kiss and Silas bucked beneath me. I smiled against his mouth, but I didn’t stop. I strengthened my thrusts, swallowing the sounds pouring out of him — each one desperate, pleading. I wanted him begging, writhing below me. Ending the kiss, I gripped his wrists tighter, Silas hissing and jerking.
“Ian… please!” Head tossing, hips bucking wildly into every hard stroke, Silas looked debauched, utterly wicked and delicious.
I managed to get my hand between us and unwound the leather. Blood rushed through me once more and unable to stop it, I took Silas harder and faster, the motions jarring. Silas came off the bed suddenly, entire body lifting as his seed shot onto his stomach. It was the last I needed. Crushing my mouth to his, I kissed him hard enough to split his lip as every ounce of my soul exploded through my cock.
My heart pounded against my ribcage so hard, I was certain I would die any moment. I rested my head on his shoulder, both of us shaking through the last tremors of our release. I couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. My hold eased on his wrists and Silas pulled free, wrapping his arms around me. His lips brushed my shoulder, then my neck, softly.
“I take it back,” he murmured.
“What?” I eased out of him and dropped over onto the bed.
Silas rolled toward me and propped his head on one hand. Finger tracing random patterns over my sweat-slick chest, he smiled. “You are not old.”
I chuckled. “Well, in your defense, it was I who originally stated I was old.”
“True, but I agreed.”
“I do believe I can overlook that,” I said, giving him a wry grin. I picked up the strip of leather from where it lay on the bed.
“So what did you think of my solution?”
Instead of answering him, I pushed onto his back and draped the leather over Silas’ right thigh and drew it upward. He parted his legs, a soft sound escaping him. The leather slipped over his cock, the flesh flexing in response, beginning to harden once more. It gave me the perfect idea.
“Spread your legs.” When he did, I sat up and knelt between his legs, his thighs resting on mine. His gaze was hooded, his breath catching with every drift of the leather over his skin. “We’ve seen how well this helps an old man like me,” I said as I slipped the strip under his balls. “Now we’re going to test it on a young one…”
Silas groaned and I smiled. I brought the ends up, crossed them in front, at the base of his shaft. Then I tied the ends around his cock, making sure the leather was snug — just tight enough to drive him mad with need.
“Ian… what are you doing?”
I gripped Silas’ balls and tugged. He cried out, cock jumping, swelling against its binding. There was something intoxicating about the way he keened, hands fisting the blanket, skin flushed. Hovering over him, my cock rubbing alongside his, I licked Silas’ lips, barely grazing them with the tip of my tongue. With a frustrated growl, Silas grabbed my head and locked his legs behind mine, bringing me down hard onto that fine body. We both grunted and I rocked, the motion pressing our cocks together tightly.
A man could die happy, watching those blue eyes roll back, those lips part with every gasping breath. Silas’ cock was hot against mine, every grind of our hips driving us higher. I wanted to hear him beg, to see sheer desperation in those eyes — then the overwhelming relief when my word and a tug on the leather would trigger his release.
I pushed harder, faster, my own cock swelling, need coiling deep in my gut. Silas bit down on my bottom lip and I jerked, heat spraying between us. Silas moaned and tugged me harder onto him.
How could a man resist such sweet pleas?
I pushed a hand between us and released the leather. The moment it was loose, Silas bucked, thrusting his cock against my belly until he was chanting my name, skin flushed as his cock throbbed alongside my own.
Nothing else in the world compared to the sight of Silas Christian in the throes of pleasure. I smiled and kissed the hollow of his throat as he struggled to catch his breath. For all his youth and all my age, it was he who was left breathless at the end.
“Perhaps,” I whispered, smiling against his neck, “we should find more leather.”
Silas swallowed. “Why?”
“If one piece can bring us this much pleasure…” I kissed my way along his jaw, toward his ear. “Then imagine what several can do.”
“I have a very good imagination.”
I slid a hand up his arm to his wrist. “Oh, I do not doubt that. And I can only think what you would look like, trussed to the bed, wrists and ankles bound to the posts, keeping you open for me. Your cock bound, so hard it aches…”
“You are a very wicked man, Ian Bowers,” he muttered.
I laughed softly and licked a path back down the side of his neck. “It was you who once told me such things.”
“They remain true.”
“Aye. I am sinful, prideful, possessing every sin known to man in abundance.” I kissed my way back up to his lips. “But above all…” I traced them with the tip of my tongue as I laced our fingers together. “I am yours.”
“All mine,” he breathed.
“And if I were to restrain you, would you give in willingly?” I dipped my tongue into his mouth and Silas moaned, fingers tightening on mine. Then I pulled back once again. “Or would you fight me and make me work for it?”
“Fight you.” The words came without hesitation and I smiled. Silas’ gaze was fierce, determined. “I will never submit willingly,” he said with conviction. “To anyone.”
“It only makes the pursuit that much sweeter. I do not want a wilting flower.” I lowered my head and nipped his neck where it met his shoulder. Silas hissed and his arms jerked. I closed my hands around his wrists and held them in place. “I want you — a man who will fight, who will not simply lie down and wait complacently for me to take him.”
“You have him,” Silas growled. The heat in his words sent a rush through me.
“My beloved harlot,” I whispered on his skin.
I smiled. “And every manner of thief, rogue, and any other name you could possibly think to call me.” I lifted my head and found him smirking at me. “And what of you, Mr. Christian?”
“What of me?”
“Sodomite, pirate, wanton…”
The wry twist of his lips in his smile was fond. “Not much different from you, I wager, Captain.”
“Mm, I like when you call me that. I remember wanting you from the moment ‘sir’ passed between your lips.”
I found the leather, now well-worn, and held it, both of us staring at it for a moment before our eyes met. “How long can you go without, Silas? How long will it take before you beg for release?”
Silas stretched beneath me, his cock hardening once again. “Longer than you would be willing to wait.”
“Are you prepared to wager on that, Mr. Christian? I’m a gambling man.”
“Very well.” I sat up and knelt between his legs. “What shall we wager then?”
“Two days of servitude.”
I smiled. “If you beg before I find release, you will serve me two days without question.” He nodded. “And if I climax before, then I will owe you two days.”
Silas held out his hand, and the moment I shook, he tugged me back down on top of him. “I hope you enjoy serving.”
“Such bold claims,” I whispered on his lips. “Yet I know your weaknesses.”
“Mm, then I suppose we should get on with testing my limits, don’t you think?”
I began looping the leather around his cock and balls once more. “Aye, Mr. Christian, I do.”
(c) 2007 Mychael Black