A Pirates Life

"Thomas," he moaned, voice high and trembling, "fuck. Please."

I grinned, one hand gripping his narrow hip, the other braced against the wall as I pressed forward, slow and deliberate. His arse stretched around me, tight and slick from the spit I'd worked in, and I let myself sink inside, loving the feel of the muscle around my cock.

"Still with me?" I murmured.

He nodded frantically, back arched, face buried in the crook of his arm. His pale arse was flushed, his posh curls damp with sweat. I still couldn't believe I had him like this... the Earl's son, writhing on his knees, gasping my name.

I started to move. Hips rolling, cock sliding out, then back in deep. He whimpered, one hand clawing at the sheets, the other wrapped around his leaking cock. The room was quiet save for the creak of the floorboards and the wet slap of skin on skin.

I was just finding a rhythm, hips smacking into his arse-when the door crashed open.

Time stopped and I froze mid trust.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!"

"Father." He squealed.

Standing in the doorway was the boy's father. The Earl. His eyes were wide with disbelief as he looked at his son, bent over, arse gaping before it morphed to rage as he realised some dock rats cock was fully inside his heir.

"GUARDS!" he bellowed. "Get this filthy bastard off my son!"

I scrambled back, slipping out with a slick pop. My cock bounced free as I grabbed for my breeches. The Earl's son just whimpered, excuses as I yanked my breeches up one-handed, cock sticking out and ran.

The doorframe filled with steel and fury, two guards, swords drawn, red-faced and snarling.

"There!"

"Fucking buggerer!

"GET HIM!"

I darted past them, shoulder slamming into one as I bolted barefoot into the hallway. My heart pounded. My feet slapped the polished floors as I ran. I could hear the guards behind me, every servant I passed gaped in horror.

The gallows. That's what waited if they caught me. No trial. No mercy.

And it wouldn't matter that the noble's boy begged me for it. Not when I was the one doing the fucking.

Out the window. Over the awning. Down into the alley.

Shouts followed me:

"Red hair!"

"Can't miss him!"

"He was balls-deep in the Earl's son!"

Cheers from the drunken dockworkers.

Laughter from someone leaning out a tavern window. I shoved through crates, leapt over a cart, and darted into the maze of London's docks.

Luckily, I knew the place like the back of my hand.

I'd worked here most of my life, offloading crates, coiling rope, ferrying barrels for men who never learned my name. I knew every narrow alley and creaky plank. Knew which walkways rotted underfoot and which shadows never saw lamplight.

I slipped through the maze, feet slapping slick boards, ducking under hanging sails and swinging cargo. The deeper I got, the quieter it became. Just the slow lap of water. The distant creak of masts. The occasional voice from a ship's deck, low and lazy.

No one was chasing me now.

I staggered to a halt between two towering hulls, finally catching my breath. My breeches were still half-undone. I turned away from the moonlight, panting, and shoved myself back into them properly, fumbling with the ties as my heart tried to crawl out of my throat.

"What the fuck am I gonna do..." I muttered aloud, wiping sweat from my brow.

Even in the dark, I knew I stood out. My fucking hair, bright ginger, wild and unmistakable. I might as well have been glowing. It had always made me easy to spot in a crowd, and tonight it would see me hung.

I couldn't go home. Couldn't go anywhere in the city. My life, such as it was, had ended the moment I pushed my cock into that trembling noble boy.

Then I heard it.

Boots. Running. Shouts echoing down the docks. Closer again.

They hadn't given up after all.

Panic clawed back into my chest. I scanned the ships around me and darted across the gangplank of the closest, grabbing the rope ladder hanging at the side. My palms burned as I scrambled up it, muscles screaming. I hauled myself over the edge of the deck just as two burly sailors let out twin sighs of relief: pissing off the far side, backs to me.

Thank fuck.

I crouched low, heart hammering, and crept past them, feet silent on the planks.

I saw a half-open hatch and slipped through it.

I crept past dark cramped rooms filled with men sprawled in hammocks or cots, either asleep or in deep conversation. I tiptoed past holding my breath until i found more stairs and finally found myself in the hold. Dark, damp, and quiet. Crates stacked high. The air was thick with the scent of rope, sun powder and rum.

I found a corner behind a stack of barrels and curled into it.

I woke to the ship rocking, timbers groaning like they were in pain. We were well out to sea. No turning back.

My limbs were stiff and aching from crouching so long. What kind of ship was I in, i knew one thing for sure it was better than a rope around my neck.

A creak overhead.

The door opened and I froze.

Heavy boots thudded down the stairs, each step deliberate. A man emerged from the gloom, shirtless, chest a mess of dark hair and ink. Scars scored his ribs like tally marks. He held a swinging lantern in one hand, the other scratching lazily at his crotch.

My numb legs shifted and the lantern snapped towards me. So did his glare.

His eyes locked on mine. He snarled, revealing a lopsided smirk with several missing teeth. Before I could even breathe, he closed the distance and slammed me against the wall, his fist bunching the front of my shirt.

"What the fuck you doin' down 'ere, boy?" His breath hit me-rum and salt.

"Please," I rasped. "I just wanted off the dock."

His grip tightened, knuckles digging into my chest. "Off the dock, eh? What're you runnin' from?"

I hesitated. The truth could get me killed. "I... I can't go back. They'll kill me."

His eyes narrowed. "Who's 'they'?"

"The King's men."

He let out a low whistle. "Well I'll be fucked. Proper little fugitive, are ye?"

He studied me, expression unreadable. Then he laughed.

"Bad luck for you. Stowaways get tossed. Captain won't care how pretty you are."

My heart pounded..

I swallowed. "I can work. I'll earn my keep, I'll do anything. Just... don't throw me overboard."

"Anything, aye?" he said, head cocked, eyes gleaming.

I hesitated. Only for a breath.

"Anything," I said, firmer now.

He looked over his shoulder, listening, before turning to and leaning in, voice a low growl. "I shouldn't. But fuck it. Let's see what that mouth can do."

My hands shook as I reached for his breeches, I dropped to my knees, the boards cold beneath me, and fumbled with the fastenings. His cock spilled out, already swelling in the lantern's flicker.

He watched me with that dark, satisfied smirk. "That's it, lad."

I wrapped my fingers around the shaft, skin hot under my palm, and took him into my mouth. My stomach twisted with anxiety, but I pushed past them and continued sucking his salty cock. He groaned, one hand tangling in my hair.

"Aye... ye might just earn yer place yet."

I focused, bobbing my head, trying to breathe through my nose. His hips moved, slow at first, then with a bit more force. His cock hit the back of my throat and I gagged.

He pulled me off with a wet pop and hauled me to my feet, spinning me around and shoved my chest over a crate.

My cheek hit the boards as his hands yanked the cords loosening my breeches and baring me in one rough pull. I gasped.

"Look at ye," he muttered, voice thick. "All that fancy talk, and here you are with your arse out for a pirate like me."

He pushed my legs apart with his knee. I braced against the crate as as a spit slicked finger jammed between my cheeks, pressing inside without warning.

I stiffened, breath catching. He worked the finger in and out, rough but not careless, mouth running hot filth the whole time.

"Tight as a fucking drum," he muttered. "But you've ad cock in 'ere before. I can tell"

I shook my head, mute.

He laughed. "You're lyin'."

He pulled his finger out and pressed his cock to my hole, it was thick and blunt, nudging against me. I tensed.

"Relax," he growled into my ear. "Or it'll tear."

I tried. I really fucking tried. But his thrust came sudden and brutal, making me gasp and jerk forward, hands scrabbling against the wood. He held me in place, buried deep, hips flush against mine, breathing hard against the back of my neck.

"Tha's it," he rasped. "Good little stowaway."

He started moving, slow at first, then faster, his hips slamming into me with a steady rhythm. I bit my lip, biting back every sound, but the pain was already shifting, morphing into something hotter. Something worse.

His rough hand slid round to grip my cock, hard now, slick and leaking.

"You like this," he hissed, voice twisted with amusement. "I can feel it."

"I... I don't," I gasped, even though my body had already given me up.

"Don't lie to me, boy. Your cock's honest, even if ya mouth ain't."

He fucked me harder, each thrust hammering the words in. His hand pumped me in time, rough and relentless.

"Answer me."

I stayed silent.

He grinned against my neck. "Fine. I'll make you answer."

He sped up, hips slapping against my arse. The rhythm built as something dangerously close to pleasure flooded me. My balls tightened. I bit my forearm, trying to hold it back.

"Go on," he growled. "Show me how much ye love Blackburn's Pirate cock inside ye."

I came hard, hips jerking, cock spilling against the crate as a sob burst from my throat.

He wasn't far behind. He snarled and slammed deep, cock twitching as he filled me.

He stayed there, deep inside panting, both of us sweating and spent.

He finally pulled out, slow and deliberate.

"Not bad," he said gruffly, pulling his breeches up. "Might be worth keepin' ye around."

Relief hit me like a wave.

"What happens now?" I asked, voice hoarse, throat still raw from salt and cock.

He scratched at his beard, considering. "Reckon I'll talk to the Cap'n. Can't just be harbourin' stray land rats without his word. But..." His eyes raked over me again, slower this time. "I'll vouch for ye."

There was a long pause. Then, with a smirk: "Ye got any skills besides whorin'?"

I swallowed, jaw tight. "I've worked the docks my whole life and I can read and write- well a bit..." I trailed off, the weight of my situation pressing down on my chest.

He nodded slowly. "Aye. What's your name, lad?"

"Thomas."

"Right then, Thomas. Here's what we'll do." He jerked his thumb toward the crates. "You stay down here. Keep your head low. I'll talk to the Cap'n when the mood's good. Might take some coaxing."

I nodded, clinging to the thread of hope like it was a lifeline.

"I'll bring food and water. If someone else comes down, you keep quiet, and you keep outta sight. Tell anyone i fucked ye..." he leaned in, eyes cold now, "I'll say I found you tryin' to rob the stores. And we'll gut you slow."

"A-aye," I breathed. "Understood."

He turned to leave, boots thudding on the boards. But halfway up the ladder, he paused and looked back over his shoulder. His silhouette was broad and shadowed, all menace and muscle.

"Don't make me regret this, Thomas."

I gave a shaky nod. "I won't. I swear."

Then he was gone, the hatch creaking shut above, sealing me in again.

I slumped back onto the floor, body still tender from his rough fuck, every muscle trembling with the slow crash of adrenaline. It had been brutal and humiliating but, I was still alive. And compared to the noose waiting for me back on the island, a pirate's cock was a small price to pay.

I pulled my knees up to my chest and eventually, the ache in my limbs won out. The lull of the ship's creaking hull, the gentle sway lulled me back to sleep.