Super Junior AU; Shihan; Chinese Man (Korean Pirate)
Title: Chinese Man (Korean Pirate)
Fandom: Super Junior AU (Pirate)
Pairing: Siwon/Hankyung, Siwon/Hankyung/Heechul (and all variants thereof)
Word count: 7,659
Rating: R
Summary: It takes them quite a time to get the Chinese prisoner down to Siwon’s rooms, because he won’t allow anyone to knock him out, and the man fights against them all the way.
A/N: Give thanks to broken_home_ for posting this for me!
And this seemed like a good idea at the time, like a lot of my fics do. Unfortunately, it ended up getting away from me, and it's basically the same story as the other one, but with an angrier undertone. Or something >.>;;
It takes them quite a time to get the Chinese prisoner down to Siwon’s rooms, because he won’t allow anyone to knock him out, and the man fights against them all the way. Siwon watches it all with a cool eye; he does not get involved, simply because he doesn’t quite trust himself. His life thus has been spent in the arms of one person, a man who knows everything about him, who he respects and would die for and probably even loves, but suddenly there is something else there; someone else, a blonde man who managed to get a dagger to his side as he made his way down the corridor of the inside of the fishing vessel, a man who glared at him with such hatred that it made Siwon shiver, made him want to harness that and possess it. It hadn’t taken much to disarm the man despite his apparent advantage - he was hopelessly inexperienced - but for a moment Siwon had welcomed the possibilities posed.
“What would it be like,” he thinks as the man is forced through into his rooms, “to die at the hands of that person?” And he thinks that he almost wants it; he can see those eyes staring at him, those long fingers around his neck, and he pushes the thought out of his mind because he is likely to do something he regrets - something that will ruin any chances he has of getting what he wants.
The captive is tied down again, onto a chair in the center of Siwon’s room, and the men grin at him as they leave the room; they know what is going on, even though they have not been told explicitly, and Siwon recognises the honour that he has been given. No one in the crew has ever been given their own pet before - those men and women who have previously been captured are to be shared between the multitude of men, and it is only the Captain who has had the honour before. Siwon knows that for a fact.
The thought of what he could do is exciting. He has never desired anything like this before, apart from his captain, and the possibilities seem endless, stretched out into the distance until he loses sight of them. He remembers the words of Heechul, I could do this, and he knows that he could, as the man is fastened down, unable to react to his mouth and hands apart from in the obvious way. Would he? Would he be the same as Siwon, young and naïve and all too easy to control? Siwon doubts it. He would fight back all the way, with his hands and nails and teeth, with his whole body, fighting against Siwon and his possibilities. And so, Siwon will go about it a different way, different to the head on approach of his captain; this is a mission in itself, and he leads missions carefully, watching where he walks, and he will mark the Chinese man in a more subversive way than those a floor below him mark their pets.
He takes a seat in front of the man and grins at him, charming and youthful and unthreatening. “Ni hao,” he says. “Wo shi Choi Siyuan,” and he watches with some satisfaction as the man’s eyes widen in shock. I will enjoy this, he thinks. He wants the other man to enjoy it too.
*
The boy knows Chinese, and Geng acknowledges this with a widening of his eyes that he does not want to happen, but it occurs anyway, and he knows that it does not go unnoticed by the way the boy’s smile widens. Just my luck, he thinks, refuses to learn the boy’s name, and struggles against the bonds that hold him in place one more time. The wide smile falters slightly.
“I am Choi Siyuan,” he repeats, and Geng just snarls at him from behind the piece of material that has been fastened around his jaw as a gag. The boy thinks that he understands; he makes a noise in his throat and leans forward and removes the gag gently, fingers brushing slightly over Geng’s jaw. Geng spits at his feet - it is all he can do.
“Fuck off,” he tells him, fighting once more against the ropes at his wrists, just in case they are loosening. “Is the fact that you speak Chinese supposed to prove anything?”
“What’s your name?” Siyuan asks, the cheerful look on his face not changing at all despite Geng’s words, though there is amusement in his eyes, telling Geng that he understood quite clearly what he said.
“Stop with the fucking niceties,” says Geng bitterly. “What’s my name got to do with anything? Just kill me or rape me or do whatever it is that you want to and get it over with, so I’ll know whether to throw myself off the deck or not.”
“Trying to be nice,” says Siyuan with a shrug, and it is stilted in a way that suggests that the words come more easily to his ears than to his mouth. “We’re going to be spending some time together, I’d like to know your name.”
“Time,” says Geng, making a noise of derision. “Is that what they call it?”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” says Siyuan with a frown, leaning forward and looking earnest - it almost works, but Geng snorts and turns his head away.
“I don’t trust pirates,” he says.
“Tell me your name,” says Siyuan, and pulls a dagger from its sheath and looks at it, this way and that, the blade glinting in the light streaming in from the grime covered windows. Geng recognises it; it is the one that he picked up when he heard the calls of warning from above deck, it is the one that he held against the side of the man in front of him, it is the one that he thought he had lost when he was tackled to the ground and dragged on board this ship.
The sight of it shocks him. His anger subsides and is replaced by the fear that has always been there under the surface, white hot while his anger was merely red. There is nothing he can do, not while he is tied to this chair, and he knows it and the boy in front of him knows it, and that terrifies him. At the hands of someone with questionable morals, if he has any at all: the thought is not comforting, it makes him laugh softly and glance to the floor.
“You can’t threaten me,” he says quietly. “I welcome death.”
“Shame,” says Siyuan with a grin, and puts the dagger away and leans forward on his elbows. “Listen, I’m not going to hurt you. You’ve been given to me because I took a shine to you, yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything. I was in your position once; I know what it feels like. If you hadn’t been given to me, then you would have been given to the crew; you wouldn’t like that, I’ve seen what they do.”
Geng shivers in spite of himself: he can well imagine it. Still, he does not trust the smiling face in front of him, someone who looks young and naïve and totally out of place on this ship, surrounded by thieves and murderers. To be given to him means that Siyuan is a favourite - he is possibly even the Captain’s lover - and it is impossible to get to a position of power without being very good at your job. Siyuan must be very good at his job - Geng knows that the charming smile is nothing but a façade.
He doesn’t trust the face in front of him, but at the same time he recognises that this is where he is. He is tied to a chair, fastened down, in the middle of a pirate’s bedroom, with no way of escape and no hope of rescue, and to fight against that is to expend useless energy. Not telling his name: what will it matter in the end, when he’s broken and possibly dead? It will make no difference in the end.
“What’s your name?” Siyuan asks softly, looking at him carefully.
“Han Geng,” he whispers.
The rope remains tied around his wrists that night, but he is let loose from the chair. Siyuan looks as though he regrets doing that almost as soon as he does: Geng launches himself forward and knocks him to the ground, the element of surprise to his advantage. He may have given his name, but that doesn’t mean that he is going to become subservient: he has every intention of throwing himself off the ship the first chance he gets, so that he is not trapped in this life. He’d rather die than be whatever it is that he fears he will become.
“Wha-“ It takes Siyuan a couple of seconds to work what has just happened, but when he does Geng loses that advantage that he has, and soon he is on his back underneath Siyuan, his wrists held above his head, Siyuan’s legs straddling his hips, completely overpowered. He knows immediately how provocative this position is, he is not young and innocent, and so he fights harder in order to get out, and that is an even bigger mistake.
Siyuan moans low in his throat and shuts his eyes, and when he opens them they are too dark, glazed over in a way that makes Geng stop moving and fall completely still, his breath heavy and stilted. He is almost afraid to breathe, as if that will shock Siyuan into moving, into doing something, anything. He cannot get free: he is older but he is not stronger. He wets his lips with his tongue; Siyuan’s eyes follow the motion, and then he is free, Siyuan striding out of the room and locking the door, leaving Geng spread out on the floor. He does not return that night. Geng does not sleep.
The incident is never repeated. Geng doesn’t dare try it again - he is too scared of the consequences, and he hates himself for feeling that way. He is stuck in a situation that has no easy ways out, but his fear makes him hang back from doing anything, makes him give up any other attempt at escaping.
Siyuan never talks of it, though he keeps a weapon close when he comes into the room. He doesn’t seem to see Geng as any sort of a threat, however, as he unties the rope that binds his wrists together that first morning, chattering cheerfully in Chinese that needs some refinement. He has with him a meal, which he shares with Geng, making him sit by his side and eat. Geng refuses to initially, but his hunger proves too intense, and the sight of Siyuan eating makes it clear that it is not poisoned or anything like that, and though he remains silent, Siyuan doesn’t seem to notice.
He is not stupid; he knows that Siyuan is not his real name, it is more probably a Chinese loan name that he has been given. His grammar ranges between fairly good and atrocious, but Geng can just about make out what he’s trying to say most of the time. He doesn’t particularly care either way though. He remains silent despite the boy’s attempts at getting him to talk, trying to drag him into conversation when all Geng wants is to be free, either dead or released, able to sleep without the fear of what could happen if he lets his guard down for just a second. Siyuan does not sleep in his own room, and Geng doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t bear to ask.
Siyuan stitches up the shallow wound on his shoulder, Geng looking away and gritting his teeth against the pain, in order to not show any weakness. It is hard, but he manages it. He is allowed a bath and a change of clothes, and Siyuan leaves him alone for the most part, tending to his duties on the ship, but sometimes he comes down to his rooms and sits there as Geng struggles to ignore his presence.
“Where did you learn Chinese?” he asks after two weeks, the first thing that he has said since he told Siyuan his name. His voice barely works, but Siyuan doesn’t seem to notice that either; he just grins at him, and Geng has a horrible feeling that he takes the question as a sign that he is softening. He isn’t - he just wondered.
“I learnt it at school,” says Siyuan. “I also spent a couple of years in China when I was around ten. My father was a merchant, and he had a small business there.”
“Had?” The reference to the past does not escape Geng.
“He’s dead now,” says Siyuan, taking a drink from his glass of wine that he managed to find somewhere. He was willing to share it with Geng but he refused it. He doesn’t trust the alcohol.
“What happened?” Geng is not truly interested in the answer, but the conversation is distracting; it gets his mind off the anxiety that has trapped him.
“We were attacked,” says Siyuan with a grin. “By a pirate ship.”
Geng flinches back: he understands the statement that remains unsaid, and there is something horrific about that, that this boy is now part of the ship that killed his family. “Why?” he asks, and Siyuan understands what he is truly asking.
“The Captain showed me,” he says softly, the chink of his silver cup loud on the wooden surface of the table. “He showed me everything that there could be in the world, if you just allowed it.”
Geng feels as though he is going mad, trapped in the same room for weeks on end, unable to read any of the books on the bookcase, nothing to do but sleep and sit by the window to look at the endless stretch of sea. He hates it. He hates every square inch of the room, as the days turn into weeks and then months, kept tally on scraps of paper that he finds around the room, hidden under his pillow. The tension is driving him mad, too, constantly on edge, waiting for that moment to come when Siyuan attacks, dagger held to his throat to stop him from moving. He can’t sleep for the fear that the door will unlock with a faint click that will fail to wake him up; he keeps falling asleep during the day, only to be shaken awake by a laughing Siyuan, jumping and flinching away, terrified at what could have happened while he dozed. Siyuan has mastered the art of moving silently, a good quality in his choice of profession, but a bad sign for Geng.
“Will you get it over with?” he asks one day, when he thinks he has been there for just over one month. Siyuan pauses in sharpening his sword and looks over at where Geng is sat on the bed.
“What?” asks Siyuan, a confused expression on his face.
“Just rape me already,” says Geng bitterly. “I’d rather you just get it over with, I can’t handle the waiting.” He has almost managed to get himself believe that the expectation will be worse than the actual ordeal; he has resigned himself to it.
“I give you my word,” says Siyuan with a laugh, standing up, “I’m not going to hurt you. Well, not unless you want me to,” he adds, grinning at him, and Geng jerks away.
“I don’t trust the word of a pirate,” he says quietly.
“I’m not a pirate,” says Siyuan, pulling the door open to leave. “I’m a pet.”
“Are you and the Captain lovers?” asks Geng that night when they are eating. As soon as they are finished, Siyuan will disappear for the night, leaving Geng to toss and turn and wait. The time is not diminishing the fear - it is making it stronger, but his exhaustion is beginning to show itself, and he finds it harder to stay awake and alert each night.
“Yes,” says Siyuan, and looks at him coolly, as if to ask what business he thought it was of his. Geng glances away, blushing slightly. He is aware that he isn’t in any position to ask questions, and he hates that he has lost so much of his control. Slowly, it made him angry; it has been building up over the time spent conforming to rules that he doesn’t even know or understand, and so he asks, because it is all he can do.
“You were the Captain’s pet,” he says, a statement that he has derived from Siyuan’s comments.
“I still am,” says Siyuan, and his smile is fond.
“How did you survive?” Geng asks, and his shoulders slump and he realises that that is what he has been wondering all this time. It will be easy to put up with during the time, hard to pick up the pieces afterwards.
“It wasn’t a question of surviving,” says Siyuan, pulling his gun from his side and placing it on the table in front of him. “Perhaps if I had been given to the crew, I wouldn’t have been able to. I have seen what they do. But Heechul was different. I was young and naïve when I was taken - it didn’t take long for him to get what he wanted from me, to gain my trust and never ending devotion. It was easier to make me forget whatever morals I had back then. My family was out of sight most of the year anyway, it was easy to forget them.”
“I can’t forget,” mutters Geng.
“With you, it’s different,” and Siyuan removes his coat and Geng begins to get apprehensive. “You’re older than I was back then; you have had time to get your ideas and thoughts set in stone. You won’t change like I did. Perhaps that is good, but it will make your time on this ship harder than it needs to be.”
“You say you won’t hurt me,” says Geng, leaning to the side to get away from the heat that he can feel from Siyuan’s body, “but your eyes tell me differently.”
Siyuan looks at him with a steady gaze. “I don’t deny it,” he says. “I do want you, Geng, and it gets harder to deny myself as time moves on.” Geng flinches away before he can stop himself, and Siyuan catches hold of his arm to hold him still. “Heechul once said that he could do whatever he wanted to me, and he was right. The same applies to me. That raw strength that you demonstrated that first night wouldn’t help in the end, not if I decided to take you. I could do it now.” He stops and lets go of Geng’s arm slowly. “But I gave you my word,” and he stands up and crosses over to the cupboards and starts pulling something out.
Geng remains in his seat, staring forward, unable to move, breath shallow. He stays silent as Siyuan drags a bundle of material across the floor and begins to unravel it, revealing a hammock, which is then strung up between two of the rafters on the low ceiling. Geng watches for a few minutes, and then it clicks with him.
“You’re sleeping here tonight?” His voice sounds surprised, shocked, and above all, he can’t keep the tremor of fear from it.
“Yes,” says Siyuan, voice calm and controlled, and Geng hates him for it. “The Captain needs tonight to sort out some finances. I’ll be taking my own room back for now.”
Geng does not sleep that night, still and tense in the bed, as Siyuan falls asleep quickly, the gun left on the table as an almost absent minded invitation. Geng thinks about it. What would be the point? He has no experience, there is a limited amount of shot in that gun; he kills Siyuan and then has nothing to fight with in order to escape. And to escape to what? Endless water, no hope of rescue. His basic instinct keeps him on the ship: better to have endless water and no hope of rescue and to live.
“Come on,” says Siyuan one day, when Geng has lost count of the days, holding open the door. “You need to get out of this room, you’re going to go mad stuck in here.”
“It’s a bit late for that,” mutters Geng as he ducks under the arm and into the corridor. Siyuan reaches out and pulls him back to walk beside him, holding him all the way, and Geng knows that there will be no way for him to throw himself off the deck like he once threatened to do. He doesn’t think that he will attempt that now anyway.
The sudden harshness of the sunlight unfiltered by grimy windows makes Geng start, and he almost stumbles forward, but Siyuan steadies him with his hands around his arms. Geng no longer flinches from his touch. It took him a while to realise it, but he knows now that Siyuan will not go against his word: it is the unless you want me to that preys on Geng’s mind now.
Siyuan answers his quiet questions with a small amount of detail, explaining the different jobs that have to be done, putting names to faces, faces to positions. He points out the Captain with a smile, standing at the end of the ship watching the tracks that the ship makes. They do not go over to talk to him, though Geng does not miss the way the older man glances up and motions with his head to Siyuan. He knows that they are out, and perhaps he knows why.
He has been out for less than half an hour when Siyuan tells him to stand in a secluded alcove near the door that they came out of, and instructs him to wait there for five minutes while he gets something from below. It is a tiny symbol of trust that would not have existed mere weeks ago. Geng has given up: it is too tiring to hate like that, too exhausting to constantly feel angry; he grew weary of it, and now he does as he is told, and accepts his life almost completely. There are little things that he rebels against, little things that are in his control, but they are far and few between, so they tend to go unnoticed. He doesn’t care much.
Siyuan has begun to teach him Korean, both the written and spoken form, and he struggles with it, no matter how much time is spent each day studying. It is so much easier to just speak Chinese, but he ploughs on with it anyway, aware that he is surrounded by Koreans, on a Korean ship. He cannot get away without knowing the language.
The little pieces that he has picked up are not enough, though, when one of the men who he recalls as being high up in position makes his way over to where he is standing and pushes him against the wood and tries to kiss him.
“No,” he tries. “No,” and the man just pulls out a short knife and holds it to his neck to stop him moving, and pushes him further into the corner where he most probably can’t be seen, where the sunlight doesn’t seem to reach, and when he begin to yell, resorting back to Chinese, the man looks at him as if he is quite mad and covers his mouth with his hand.
Geng takes the hint; he is to be quiet, says the taller, stronger man who has a weapon. The fingers over his mouth are replaced by lips which make him shudder, hands clenching at his sides as the blade of the knife glints in non-existent light. This is fucking it, he thinks, and there is a brief flash of almost-disappointment that it wasn’t Siyuan who was doing this.
The man is jerked away quickly, held by the scruff of the neck by Siyuan, who looks at them dispassionately. He looks at Geng, takes note of the wide eyes and heavy breathing, and turns to the man and says something to him that Geng doesn’t understand. The man frowns deeply and responds; whatever he says causes Siyuan to frown himself, but in anger rather than confusion, and when he speaks again there is a coldness to his voice that makes Geng shiver - the man looks absolutely terrified.
(“No one is to touch this man.”
“But Sir - the Captain said that pets were to be shared.”
“He was given to only me. And by extension, he belongs to the Captain. The Captain would not take kindly to you messing with his possessions.”)
The only word that he picks up from the discussion is the continued references to ‘the Captain’, and it doesn’t escape his notice that it was this that so scared the man. He struggles to remember the face that he tried to forget those long months ago - a feminine face, a thin body, nothing there to frighten.
“The men are frightened of the Captain,” he says that night as they eat.
“So it should be,” says Siyuan, leaning back in his chair. He has not eaten that night.
“You don’t,” notes Geng.
“There is more than fear in how they view him,” says Siyuan. “There is respect and loyalty. You’re right. I don’t fear him, or, at least, I do not fear him the way that the others do. He is just and fair; the only people he does not take kindly to are those who disobey him and those who are rebels. I am neither. I have only need to fear if I make a mistake. I have not yet.”
“Do you talk to him of me?” Geng pushes his own plate of food away: he no longer wants it.
“Sometimes, if he asks after you,” says Siyuan. “He asks how you are getting on.”
“What do you reply?”
“I reply that you are how you always were,” says Siyuan, and he grins and Geng realises that there is something in that statement that he doesn’t understand, and which he shouldn’t anyway: a private joke between the Captain and Siyuan.
No, he thinks, Siwon, and he asks, “What would my Korean name be?”
Siwon reaches behind him and pulls out a piece of paper and writes down some symbols, which Geng can’t read. “Han-kyung,” Siwon says slowly, and Geng imitates the sounds.
“I prefer my Chinese name,” he says with a laugh, and looks up, catching Siwon’s eye as he does so, and Siwon reaches out and takes hold of his arm tightly.
“Hankyung,” he says, voice rough, and then he stops and there is an awkward silence, which Geng tries to break.
“I said I preferred my Chinese name,” and he laughs softly and tries to pull away, but Siwon holds him still and looks at him, and Geng realises with a jolt.
“The Captain hasn’t requested your presence tonight.”
“No,” says Siwon, his voice little more than a breath. “No, he hasn’t. Please, Geng - Hankyung,” and when he leans in and kisses him, Geng doesn’t fight back. He lets Siwon pull him to the bed; he lets Siwon push him down into the covers and thin mattress; he lets Siwon strip him of his clothes and his pride and his free will. Afterwards Siwon kisses away the tears that he wasn’t even aware that he had shed.
Siwon’s duties lie with the Captain each night, so they take their chances while they can during the day; Siwon slipping through the door in early morning to wake Geng with his mouth and hands. He smells like sex each time, and his hair is always ruffled in a way that can’t be put down to merely sleep; he always smiles lazily at Geng as he opens his eyes, sliding under the covers and into the warmth, where Geng makes quick work of his hastily done up buttons and ties, until Siwon is gasping out his name, Geng, Hankyung, against his neck.
Geng tries to convince himself that it is stupid to feel jealous, of someone that he has met only once, but it is hard when they have to snatch every moment that they can, while the Captain has Siwon every night, free to spend his time on finding out what makes Siwon tick. Geng hasn’t quite got time for that, choosing instead to focus on the here and now, what makes Siwon happiest at that point in time, what Siwon does with his hands that makes Geng gasp and moan. He tries to convince himself to not feel jealous, but he can’t manage it.
Three months in, he has picked up enough Korean to understand what the men outside talk about when they work; he sits with them and talks with them, and they do not hurt him because if Siwon is not watching him, then Heechul will be, and they are scared of them both. They don’t treat him with respect, but he doesn’t ask for that. He wants to talk, and practice his skills, and by the time Siwon brings the Captain to the room, he can understand a lot more than he can speak.
“The Captain is here,” calls Siwon in Chinese, and holds the door open for Heechul to duck under his arm, as Geng stands up slowly, his book of simple Korean characters forgotten on the table.
“I wanted to meet you,” says Heechul, and he stands and looks carefully at him. “I understand that you’ve softened to Siwon.” Geng struggles for something to say, trying to string foreign syllables into some form of meaning, but he evidently takes too long, because Heechul turns back to Siwon.
“Is he a mute?” he asks, with a smirk. “I still never got my mute.”
“No, Captain,” murmurs Siwon with a smile.
“I wouldn’t say I’ve softened,” says Geng in Mandarin, and Siwon translates. Heechul turns that half smile onto him.
“What would you say?” he asks, standing just inside Geng’s personal space.
“I cannot say,” Geng tells him in his strange Korean, and Heechul tips his head back and bites his lip, deliberating.
“It’s eating you up inside, isn’t it?” His fingers brush over the shoulders of Geng’s shirt, old greying material which should have been replaced long ago. “You can’t bear that we share him. You know that I had him first, but you don’t see why that should make any difference. You’ve still got him now.”
Every word that he says is the truth, every syllable striking hard at Geng’s heart. The fingertips touch his neck. He hates this man for seeing through him in a second, for knowing everything, for having Siwon for so long, but he loves him too, he sees that, loves him for not giving a damn what Geng thinks of him, loves him for being so far away and letting Siwon work on him, loves him for recognising what needed to be done. He loves and hates his perceptiveness. Love wins out. He wants to wipe away that smirk, make him stop looking at him like that, and so he leans in and kisses Heechul hard, using his hands to trap him when it seems like he will pull away.
Why should he care what Heechul thinks of him? He is not part of the crew; he is not loyal to him. If Heechul wants to throw him off the ship, then so be it. But Heechul seems to like this forcefulness; it is not something that he gets from Siwon, new and novel, and he presses up closer to Geng and moans into his mouth, and his fingers move down to pull at Geng’s trousers, held up by a thin leather belt, and then another pair of hands circle his waist and unfasten the belt quickly - Siwon, he notes dimly, his hands pushing Heechul’s coat off, pushing him back to the bed, Heechul smirking against his lips and hooking a leg around his hips, Siwon’s familiar form pressed to his back.
Before long, Geng is invited to the Captain’s room at night, Siwon’s arm around his waist as Heechul pulls open the door and smirks at him. Sometimes Siwon goes alone. Sometimes Heechul seeks Geng out during the day when he is free, stepping into the room, and Geng always puts down whatever it is that he is doing and lets Heechul step into the circle of his arms, the older man whispering Hankyung, moaning at the muttered Chinese that Geng always slips back into.
But after six months he has had enough. This is not enough for him, his limited freedom, place at the bottom of the ladder, locked in his room whenever they land, Siwon’s mutters of apology as the door clicks shut. Geng doesn’t know if he will attempt an escape, but he needs that chance to find out.
“Let me go, Siwon,” he whispers one night when they are able to be together, Siwon’s arm around his waist, Siwon’s lips pressed against his temple. Siwon stiffens and lets go of him in order to sit up and stare at him.
“What?” he asks, and Geng knows that he knows that he wasn’t referencing the arms that held him close. There is an uncertainty in Siwon’s eyes.
“Let me join the crew,” Geng says softly in Chinese: he knows that his limited Korean will not allow him to get his point across in this case. “Let me have my freedom. Let me go.”
Siwon lies back down and takes him back into his arms, kissing him softly, and he says quietly, “Joining is not the same as free, Geng.”
“Haven’t I already pledged my loyalty?” His hand trails over the marks that he has left on Siwon’s stomach, marks that Heechul will take the time to renew this time tomorrow. “I can’t live like this,” and he knows that he can’t, not trapped in the position that he is. “Please, Siwon. Siyuan.”
Siwon hands him a fresh set of clothing two days later, with a good pair of boots and a coat that he had no need of before, not while he was a toy. He is given a gun and a sword too, and that night Siwon hands him the dagger that he first attacked him with before they go to see Heechul.
They secretly train together, and Geng learns how to fight slowly but surely. It comes more easily that Korean, but he has got a good grasp of that too. He remains in Siwon’s rooms - he is not given his own place in the crew’s quarters like Siwon said he had been given. He doesn’t want that, Siwon looks sickened at the thought, and Heechul just laughs at them and tells them to do whatever they want. And so they do.
He works with only Siwon, and he does not allow any discussion on the matter. He pretends to not understand when orders suggest otherwise. Siwon worries that it will annoy the Captain, but when Heechul is told of it, he smirks and calls Geng to him and whispers against his skin that he can work with Siwon if he wants. Geng grins at him.
Because Geng was Siwon’s primarily, he does not have that respectful devotion to Heechul that Siwon has. He is not afraid to tell Heechul where he is wrong, or where he is being foolish. Siwon worries about that too, thinking that he is being insolent, but he takes care to keep his suggestions carefully worded, stilted Korean murmured under his breath that only Heechul and Siwon are able to understand, Heechul glancing at Siwon as if for confirmation that Geng speaks the truth, before he changes his mind and plans something else.
The other men are amazed at the way that he fights; they claim that it is as though he is dancing, sword flashing through the air, moving quickly to hands and fists if he looses any of his weapons. He trains every day in order to live that bit longer. It doesn’t stop the men from leering at him, nor the crude whispers, but Geng just pretends that he doesn’t understand it: it’s easier that way. Siwon pretends that he doesn’t notice. It takes Geng some time to get used to Heechul’s games, but once he does he becomes used to not reacting - the men are practice for ignoring Heechul. Sometimes he really doesn’t understand Heechul, but most of the time he is pretending, asking what, what, I don’t understand over and over again until Siwon is trying to cover his mouth with his hands to hold him quiet and still, scared of the consequences, and Heechul is smirking at him, eyes flashing in the darkness, hands sliding over his skin to still him that way.
Heechul doesn’t mind the way he acts when they are alone. Geng would not dare act like that in public, on the deck of the ship, but when they are alone, he can do what he wants - he knows that Heechul will forgive him for it. He understands the Captain in much the same way that Siwon understands him, but different still. A pet of Siwon’s, but a lover of Heechul’s. He respects him as a superior, fears him as a captain, loves him as a man.
Heechul watches him train one day with Siwon, and although Geng has improved beyond recognition, Siwon is still that bit better, and Geng knows that he will never be able to catch up, but he feels that that is okay: he would not want to rise above Siwon anyway. Principle and pride would stop him from taking that road, because he still sees himself as Siwon’s pet.
It takes a significant amount of time, but then the inevitable happens and he is forced to the floor, his sword far out of his grasp, dagger by his feet, his hands held down above his head to stop him from attempting anything that way. It is a remarkably familiar position, and both know that the Captain is watching them. Geng knows that Heechul’s eyebrow will be raised as he looks at them, and the thought of him there, watching, proves itself to be an aphrodisiac, making Geng moan and pull Siwon closer to him so he can kiss him roughly, not caring whether his lips are actually on Siwon’s, just needing something, anything, any sort of friction and closeness at all, and when they pull away, Heechul is standing over them, smiling in a way that Geng has never seen before. It is almost soft, that smile, and it both frightens him and makes him slide his hand beyond the material of Heechul’s coat and pull him close.
“I look forward to the day that you save my life,” murmurs Heechul, and Geng wants that day to come, wants it more than he can bear, just to show that he can.
The first time that he is called on to lead an attack on another ship shocks even Geng. Siwon has been injured, and it is Heechul who announces it, shouting that Hankyung will be in charge, follow his orders, and there are dark mutterings from the men around him, and Geng doesn’t blame them: he has been given this job at the expense of other, more experienced men, and besides, he has only been part of the crew for a few months, and he is seen as nothing more than a pet, albeit a one that is a fairly good fighter. Why should he be given that honour?
He proves why, and that shocks him too. He fights at the front, helps the others, clears a way forward, and he takes a slash to the arm that was meant for someone else and continues to fight. He does what needs to be done, doesn’t leave a single man behind, and while he doesn’t know enough Korean to call himself fluent, although Siwon thinks otherwise, he knows enough to get his point across, and the men find it easy to follow his simple orders. Many accept him after that, and those that don’t, those who still try to pull him into dark corners and secluded spots, he shows them mercy too.
Siwon welcomes him to the room that night with open arms, wiping away the blood that has found his face with shaking hands, and Geng just stares at him with wide, exhilarated eyes. He does not like the killing, does not like the feeling of blood running over his hands, but he relishes his freedom, because he believes that he is free. He might not like to kill, but he is not trapped, and he has chosen this life, a life in Siwon’s arms and Heechul’s arms and no way of turning back.
*
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” says Heechul thoughtfully, “but is that a ship I see in the distance?”
“Perhaps your eyes are going,” says Hankyung from behind him, voice pitched so that only he and Siwon can hear it, on the raised level above the bustle on the main deck. His words are muddled; grammar slightly out of place, but Heechul understands what he is trying to say with an innate experience. “We shall have to get you glasses next time we land.”
“Be quiet,” orders Heechul, and turns expectantly to Siwon, who is holding a telescope to his eye.
“It is,” he confirms, and grins at Heechul.
“Oh good,” says Heechul, and turns triumphantly to Hankyung, who lowers his eyes in deference, but smiles slightly anyway. Heechul notices that there is a rip in his coat, at the shoulder, that Hankyung doesn’t seem to have noticed, but Heechul thinks with some disgust that it makes him look scruffy and ragged: it is not how his left hand man should look, and so he turns to his right hand man.
“Remind me to get Hankyung a new coat next time we land,” he tells Siwon. “He’s starting to look as though we can’t afford to clothe our crew.”
“Fine, Captain,” says Siwon.
“I should think we can afford it,” says Hankyung, taking the telescope from Siwon and holding it up so he can look through it himself. “Especially after this. We’re in fishing ground but it looks more like a merchant ship to me.”
“Let me see,” says Heechul, and Hankyung hands the telescope over and steps back to give him some room. Hankyung is right: it is a magnificent ship, with new white sails and he can just about make out a man standing near the wheel, fat and resplendent. “It seems such a shame to attack that,” he murmurs.
“But we’re going to anyway,” says Siwon, picking up his sword that he has placed beside him and fastening it around his waist.
“Yes,” says Heechul, and turns to Hankyung. “You’ll lead; Siwon will bring up the rear. Make it loud and flashy, I’ve missed that approach. Try blowing it up, we haven’t done that in a while.”
“You won’t be joining us?” Hankyung pauses in loading his gun with fresh shot to look at him with some surprise.
“No,” says Heechul, and he doesn’t explain why. Honestly, he just doesn’t feel like it, but he knows that Hankyung and Siwon will come up with reasons as to why he isn’t leading the attack, each more ridiculous than the one before, which he will be told at some point, Hankyung laughing into his ear, because both will come to realise honestly why. He also wants to give them this chance to work together, because it is rare that they can, and he wants to see what will happen, how they will do it. His father would laud him for his soft heart, he thinks dryly.
“Oi!” Siwon strolls over on the other side of the raised level to look out over the crew going about their duties. “Stop whatever you’re doing and look at me.” They do so. Heechul knows that they fear Siwon almost as much as they fear him. “We’re coming up on a merchant vessel,” says Siwon, “and we’re going to loot it and possibly blow it up. I know how much fun that will be for you all.”
“I’m sure it will be,” says Hankyung softly and sarcastically, and Heechul smirks at him.
“Take whatever you can find,” continues Siwon. “We’ll be coming up on it in around half an hour, make sure that you’re prepared.”
“No prisoners,” prompts Heechul. “That rule has been strangely lax these past few years.”
“No prisoners,” relays Siwon, the corners of his lips twitching and Hankyung smiles widely as he leans back against the railings casually. The crew stare up at Siwon for more instructions; there are none, and he tells them so harshly, so they “jump to it”. He walks back over to where Heechul is looking back out at the ship that they are nearing, and slips his arm around his waist. Heechul leaves it there for a few minutes.
“Are you sure you don’t want any prisoners?” asks Hankyung, pulling his sword from the sheath and inspecting it. “It always seems to work out so well for you.”
Heechul steps in between his legs, the silver of Hankyung’s sword held in front of their faces, Siwon’s arm still heavy against his waist. Hankyung lowers the weapon and puts it away and grins at him, and one hand rests on Heechul’s hip, and the other reaches out and clasps Siwon’s free hand.
“No,” says Heechul quietly, so that only Siwon and Hankyung can hear him. “I don’t want any prisoners.” They take it is final, and Hankyung kisses him softly, and Siwon brushes his hair from his face.
I don’t need any more prisoners.
Fandom: Super Junior AU (Pirate)
Pairing: Siwon/Hankyung, Siwon/Hankyung/Heechul (and all variants thereof)
Word count: 7,659
Rating: R
Summary: It takes them quite a time to get the Chinese prisoner down to Siwon’s rooms, because he won’t allow anyone to knock him out, and the man fights against them all the way.
A/N: Give thanks to broken_home_ for posting this for me!
And this seemed like a good idea at the time, like a lot of my fics do. Unfortunately, it ended up getting away from me, and it's basically the same story as the other one, but with an angrier undertone. Or something >.>;;
It takes them quite a time to get the Chinese prisoner down to Siwon’s rooms, because he won’t allow anyone to knock him out, and the man fights against them all the way. Siwon watches it all with a cool eye; he does not get involved, simply because he doesn’t quite trust himself. His life thus has been spent in the arms of one person, a man who knows everything about him, who he respects and would die for and probably even loves, but suddenly there is something else there; someone else, a blonde man who managed to get a dagger to his side as he made his way down the corridor of the inside of the fishing vessel, a man who glared at him with such hatred that it made Siwon shiver, made him want to harness that and possess it. It hadn’t taken much to disarm the man despite his apparent advantage - he was hopelessly inexperienced - but for a moment Siwon had welcomed the possibilities posed.
“What would it be like,” he thinks as the man is forced through into his rooms, “to die at the hands of that person?” And he thinks that he almost wants it; he can see those eyes staring at him, those long fingers around his neck, and he pushes the thought out of his mind because he is likely to do something he regrets - something that will ruin any chances he has of getting what he wants.
The captive is tied down again, onto a chair in the center of Siwon’s room, and the men grin at him as they leave the room; they know what is going on, even though they have not been told explicitly, and Siwon recognises the honour that he has been given. No one in the crew has ever been given their own pet before - those men and women who have previously been captured are to be shared between the multitude of men, and it is only the Captain who has had the honour before. Siwon knows that for a fact.
The thought of what he could do is exciting. He has never desired anything like this before, apart from his captain, and the possibilities seem endless, stretched out into the distance until he loses sight of them. He remembers the words of Heechul, I could do this, and he knows that he could, as the man is fastened down, unable to react to his mouth and hands apart from in the obvious way. Would he? Would he be the same as Siwon, young and naïve and all too easy to control? Siwon doubts it. He would fight back all the way, with his hands and nails and teeth, with his whole body, fighting against Siwon and his possibilities. And so, Siwon will go about it a different way, different to the head on approach of his captain; this is a mission in itself, and he leads missions carefully, watching where he walks, and he will mark the Chinese man in a more subversive way than those a floor below him mark their pets.
He takes a seat in front of the man and grins at him, charming and youthful and unthreatening. “Ni hao,” he says. “Wo shi Choi Siyuan,” and he watches with some satisfaction as the man’s eyes widen in shock. I will enjoy this, he thinks. He wants the other man to enjoy it too.
*
The boy knows Chinese, and Geng acknowledges this with a widening of his eyes that he does not want to happen, but it occurs anyway, and he knows that it does not go unnoticed by the way the boy’s smile widens. Just my luck, he thinks, refuses to learn the boy’s name, and struggles against the bonds that hold him in place one more time. The wide smile falters slightly.
“I am Choi Siyuan,” he repeats, and Geng just snarls at him from behind the piece of material that has been fastened around his jaw as a gag. The boy thinks that he understands; he makes a noise in his throat and leans forward and removes the gag gently, fingers brushing slightly over Geng’s jaw. Geng spits at his feet - it is all he can do.
“Fuck off,” he tells him, fighting once more against the ropes at his wrists, just in case they are loosening. “Is the fact that you speak Chinese supposed to prove anything?”
“What’s your name?” Siyuan asks, the cheerful look on his face not changing at all despite Geng’s words, though there is amusement in his eyes, telling Geng that he understood quite clearly what he said.
“Stop with the fucking niceties,” says Geng bitterly. “What’s my name got to do with anything? Just kill me or rape me or do whatever it is that you want to and get it over with, so I’ll know whether to throw myself off the deck or not.”
“Trying to be nice,” says Siyuan with a shrug, and it is stilted in a way that suggests that the words come more easily to his ears than to his mouth. “We’re going to be spending some time together, I’d like to know your name.”
“Time,” says Geng, making a noise of derision. “Is that what they call it?”
“I’m not going to hurt you,” says Siyuan with a frown, leaning forward and looking earnest - it almost works, but Geng snorts and turns his head away.
“I don’t trust pirates,” he says.
“Tell me your name,” says Siyuan, and pulls a dagger from its sheath and looks at it, this way and that, the blade glinting in the light streaming in from the grime covered windows. Geng recognises it; it is the one that he picked up when he heard the calls of warning from above deck, it is the one that he held against the side of the man in front of him, it is the one that he thought he had lost when he was tackled to the ground and dragged on board this ship.
The sight of it shocks him. His anger subsides and is replaced by the fear that has always been there under the surface, white hot while his anger was merely red. There is nothing he can do, not while he is tied to this chair, and he knows it and the boy in front of him knows it, and that terrifies him. At the hands of someone with questionable morals, if he has any at all: the thought is not comforting, it makes him laugh softly and glance to the floor.
“You can’t threaten me,” he says quietly. “I welcome death.”
“Shame,” says Siyuan with a grin, and puts the dagger away and leans forward on his elbows. “Listen, I’m not going to hurt you. You’ve been given to me because I took a shine to you, yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do anything. I was in your position once; I know what it feels like. If you hadn’t been given to me, then you would have been given to the crew; you wouldn’t like that, I’ve seen what they do.”
Geng shivers in spite of himself: he can well imagine it. Still, he does not trust the smiling face in front of him, someone who looks young and naïve and totally out of place on this ship, surrounded by thieves and murderers. To be given to him means that Siyuan is a favourite - he is possibly even the Captain’s lover - and it is impossible to get to a position of power without being very good at your job. Siyuan must be very good at his job - Geng knows that the charming smile is nothing but a façade.
He doesn’t trust the face in front of him, but at the same time he recognises that this is where he is. He is tied to a chair, fastened down, in the middle of a pirate’s bedroom, with no way of escape and no hope of rescue, and to fight against that is to expend useless energy. Not telling his name: what will it matter in the end, when he’s broken and possibly dead? It will make no difference in the end.
“What’s your name?” Siyuan asks softly, looking at him carefully.
“Han Geng,” he whispers.
The rope remains tied around his wrists that night, but he is let loose from the chair. Siyuan looks as though he regrets doing that almost as soon as he does: Geng launches himself forward and knocks him to the ground, the element of surprise to his advantage. He may have given his name, but that doesn’t mean that he is going to become subservient: he has every intention of throwing himself off the ship the first chance he gets, so that he is not trapped in this life. He’d rather die than be whatever it is that he fears he will become.
“Wha-“ It takes Siyuan a couple of seconds to work what has just happened, but when he does Geng loses that advantage that he has, and soon he is on his back underneath Siyuan, his wrists held above his head, Siyuan’s legs straddling his hips, completely overpowered. He knows immediately how provocative this position is, he is not young and innocent, and so he fights harder in order to get out, and that is an even bigger mistake.
Siyuan moans low in his throat and shuts his eyes, and when he opens them they are too dark, glazed over in a way that makes Geng stop moving and fall completely still, his breath heavy and stilted. He is almost afraid to breathe, as if that will shock Siyuan into moving, into doing something, anything. He cannot get free: he is older but he is not stronger. He wets his lips with his tongue; Siyuan’s eyes follow the motion, and then he is free, Siyuan striding out of the room and locking the door, leaving Geng spread out on the floor. He does not return that night. Geng does not sleep.
The incident is never repeated. Geng doesn’t dare try it again - he is too scared of the consequences, and he hates himself for feeling that way. He is stuck in a situation that has no easy ways out, but his fear makes him hang back from doing anything, makes him give up any other attempt at escaping.
Siyuan never talks of it, though he keeps a weapon close when he comes into the room. He doesn’t seem to see Geng as any sort of a threat, however, as he unties the rope that binds his wrists together that first morning, chattering cheerfully in Chinese that needs some refinement. He has with him a meal, which he shares with Geng, making him sit by his side and eat. Geng refuses to initially, but his hunger proves too intense, and the sight of Siyuan eating makes it clear that it is not poisoned or anything like that, and though he remains silent, Siyuan doesn’t seem to notice.
He is not stupid; he knows that Siyuan is not his real name, it is more probably a Chinese loan name that he has been given. His grammar ranges between fairly good and atrocious, but Geng can just about make out what he’s trying to say most of the time. He doesn’t particularly care either way though. He remains silent despite the boy’s attempts at getting him to talk, trying to drag him into conversation when all Geng wants is to be free, either dead or released, able to sleep without the fear of what could happen if he lets his guard down for just a second. Siyuan does not sleep in his own room, and Geng doesn’t know where he is. He doesn’t bear to ask.
Siyuan stitches up the shallow wound on his shoulder, Geng looking away and gritting his teeth against the pain, in order to not show any weakness. It is hard, but he manages it. He is allowed a bath and a change of clothes, and Siyuan leaves him alone for the most part, tending to his duties on the ship, but sometimes he comes down to his rooms and sits there as Geng struggles to ignore his presence.
“Where did you learn Chinese?” he asks after two weeks, the first thing that he has said since he told Siyuan his name. His voice barely works, but Siyuan doesn’t seem to notice that either; he just grins at him, and Geng has a horrible feeling that he takes the question as a sign that he is softening. He isn’t - he just wondered.
“I learnt it at school,” says Siyuan. “I also spent a couple of years in China when I was around ten. My father was a merchant, and he had a small business there.”
“Had?” The reference to the past does not escape Geng.
“He’s dead now,” says Siyuan, taking a drink from his glass of wine that he managed to find somewhere. He was willing to share it with Geng but he refused it. He doesn’t trust the alcohol.
“What happened?” Geng is not truly interested in the answer, but the conversation is distracting; it gets his mind off the anxiety that has trapped him.
“We were attacked,” says Siyuan with a grin. “By a pirate ship.”
Geng flinches back: he understands the statement that remains unsaid, and there is something horrific about that, that this boy is now part of the ship that killed his family. “Why?” he asks, and Siyuan understands what he is truly asking.
“The Captain showed me,” he says softly, the chink of his silver cup loud on the wooden surface of the table. “He showed me everything that there could be in the world, if you just allowed it.”
Geng feels as though he is going mad, trapped in the same room for weeks on end, unable to read any of the books on the bookcase, nothing to do but sleep and sit by the window to look at the endless stretch of sea. He hates it. He hates every square inch of the room, as the days turn into weeks and then months, kept tally on scraps of paper that he finds around the room, hidden under his pillow. The tension is driving him mad, too, constantly on edge, waiting for that moment to come when Siyuan attacks, dagger held to his throat to stop him from moving. He can’t sleep for the fear that the door will unlock with a faint click that will fail to wake him up; he keeps falling asleep during the day, only to be shaken awake by a laughing Siyuan, jumping and flinching away, terrified at what could have happened while he dozed. Siyuan has mastered the art of moving silently, a good quality in his choice of profession, but a bad sign for Geng.
“Will you get it over with?” he asks one day, when he thinks he has been there for just over one month. Siyuan pauses in sharpening his sword and looks over at where Geng is sat on the bed.
“What?” asks Siyuan, a confused expression on his face.
“Just rape me already,” says Geng bitterly. “I’d rather you just get it over with, I can’t handle the waiting.” He has almost managed to get himself believe that the expectation will be worse than the actual ordeal; he has resigned himself to it.
“I give you my word,” says Siyuan with a laugh, standing up, “I’m not going to hurt you. Well, not unless you want me to,” he adds, grinning at him, and Geng jerks away.
“I don’t trust the word of a pirate,” he says quietly.
“I’m not a pirate,” says Siyuan, pulling the door open to leave. “I’m a pet.”
“Are you and the Captain lovers?” asks Geng that night when they are eating. As soon as they are finished, Siyuan will disappear for the night, leaving Geng to toss and turn and wait. The time is not diminishing the fear - it is making it stronger, but his exhaustion is beginning to show itself, and he finds it harder to stay awake and alert each night.
“Yes,” says Siyuan, and looks at him coolly, as if to ask what business he thought it was of his. Geng glances away, blushing slightly. He is aware that he isn’t in any position to ask questions, and he hates that he has lost so much of his control. Slowly, it made him angry; it has been building up over the time spent conforming to rules that he doesn’t even know or understand, and so he asks, because it is all he can do.
“You were the Captain’s pet,” he says, a statement that he has derived from Siyuan’s comments.
“I still am,” says Siyuan, and his smile is fond.
“How did you survive?” Geng asks, and his shoulders slump and he realises that that is what he has been wondering all this time. It will be easy to put up with during the time, hard to pick up the pieces afterwards.
“It wasn’t a question of surviving,” says Siyuan, pulling his gun from his side and placing it on the table in front of him. “Perhaps if I had been given to the crew, I wouldn’t have been able to. I have seen what they do. But Heechul was different. I was young and naïve when I was taken - it didn’t take long for him to get what he wanted from me, to gain my trust and never ending devotion. It was easier to make me forget whatever morals I had back then. My family was out of sight most of the year anyway, it was easy to forget them.”
“I can’t forget,” mutters Geng.
“With you, it’s different,” and Siyuan removes his coat and Geng begins to get apprehensive. “You’re older than I was back then; you have had time to get your ideas and thoughts set in stone. You won’t change like I did. Perhaps that is good, but it will make your time on this ship harder than it needs to be.”
“You say you won’t hurt me,” says Geng, leaning to the side to get away from the heat that he can feel from Siyuan’s body, “but your eyes tell me differently.”
Siyuan looks at him with a steady gaze. “I don’t deny it,” he says. “I do want you, Geng, and it gets harder to deny myself as time moves on.” Geng flinches away before he can stop himself, and Siyuan catches hold of his arm to hold him still. “Heechul once said that he could do whatever he wanted to me, and he was right. The same applies to me. That raw strength that you demonstrated that first night wouldn’t help in the end, not if I decided to take you. I could do it now.” He stops and lets go of Geng’s arm slowly. “But I gave you my word,” and he stands up and crosses over to the cupboards and starts pulling something out.
Geng remains in his seat, staring forward, unable to move, breath shallow. He stays silent as Siyuan drags a bundle of material across the floor and begins to unravel it, revealing a hammock, which is then strung up between two of the rafters on the low ceiling. Geng watches for a few minutes, and then it clicks with him.
“You’re sleeping here tonight?” His voice sounds surprised, shocked, and above all, he can’t keep the tremor of fear from it.
“Yes,” says Siyuan, voice calm and controlled, and Geng hates him for it. “The Captain needs tonight to sort out some finances. I’ll be taking my own room back for now.”
Geng does not sleep that night, still and tense in the bed, as Siyuan falls asleep quickly, the gun left on the table as an almost absent minded invitation. Geng thinks about it. What would be the point? He has no experience, there is a limited amount of shot in that gun; he kills Siyuan and then has nothing to fight with in order to escape. And to escape to what? Endless water, no hope of rescue. His basic instinct keeps him on the ship: better to have endless water and no hope of rescue and to live.
“Come on,” says Siyuan one day, when Geng has lost count of the days, holding open the door. “You need to get out of this room, you’re going to go mad stuck in here.”
“It’s a bit late for that,” mutters Geng as he ducks under the arm and into the corridor. Siyuan reaches out and pulls him back to walk beside him, holding him all the way, and Geng knows that there will be no way for him to throw himself off the deck like he once threatened to do. He doesn’t think that he will attempt that now anyway.
The sudden harshness of the sunlight unfiltered by grimy windows makes Geng start, and he almost stumbles forward, but Siyuan steadies him with his hands around his arms. Geng no longer flinches from his touch. It took him a while to realise it, but he knows now that Siyuan will not go against his word: it is the unless you want me to that preys on Geng’s mind now.
Siyuan answers his quiet questions with a small amount of detail, explaining the different jobs that have to be done, putting names to faces, faces to positions. He points out the Captain with a smile, standing at the end of the ship watching the tracks that the ship makes. They do not go over to talk to him, though Geng does not miss the way the older man glances up and motions with his head to Siyuan. He knows that they are out, and perhaps he knows why.
He has been out for less than half an hour when Siyuan tells him to stand in a secluded alcove near the door that they came out of, and instructs him to wait there for five minutes while he gets something from below. It is a tiny symbol of trust that would not have existed mere weeks ago. Geng has given up: it is too tiring to hate like that, too exhausting to constantly feel angry; he grew weary of it, and now he does as he is told, and accepts his life almost completely. There are little things that he rebels against, little things that are in his control, but they are far and few between, so they tend to go unnoticed. He doesn’t care much.
Siyuan has begun to teach him Korean, both the written and spoken form, and he struggles with it, no matter how much time is spent each day studying. It is so much easier to just speak Chinese, but he ploughs on with it anyway, aware that he is surrounded by Koreans, on a Korean ship. He cannot get away without knowing the language.
The little pieces that he has picked up are not enough, though, when one of the men who he recalls as being high up in position makes his way over to where he is standing and pushes him against the wood and tries to kiss him.
“No,” he tries. “No,” and the man just pulls out a short knife and holds it to his neck to stop him moving, and pushes him further into the corner where he most probably can’t be seen, where the sunlight doesn’t seem to reach, and when he begin to yell, resorting back to Chinese, the man looks at him as if he is quite mad and covers his mouth with his hand.
Geng takes the hint; he is to be quiet, says the taller, stronger man who has a weapon. The fingers over his mouth are replaced by lips which make him shudder, hands clenching at his sides as the blade of the knife glints in non-existent light. This is fucking it, he thinks, and there is a brief flash of almost-disappointment that it wasn’t Siyuan who was doing this.
The man is jerked away quickly, held by the scruff of the neck by Siyuan, who looks at them dispassionately. He looks at Geng, takes note of the wide eyes and heavy breathing, and turns to the man and says something to him that Geng doesn’t understand. The man frowns deeply and responds; whatever he says causes Siyuan to frown himself, but in anger rather than confusion, and when he speaks again there is a coldness to his voice that makes Geng shiver - the man looks absolutely terrified.
(“No one is to touch this man.”
“But Sir - the Captain said that pets were to be shared.”
“He was given to only me. And by extension, he belongs to the Captain. The Captain would not take kindly to you messing with his possessions.”)
The only word that he picks up from the discussion is the continued references to ‘the Captain’, and it doesn’t escape his notice that it was this that so scared the man. He struggles to remember the face that he tried to forget those long months ago - a feminine face, a thin body, nothing there to frighten.
“The men are frightened of the Captain,” he says that night as they eat.
“So it should be,” says Siyuan, leaning back in his chair. He has not eaten that night.
“You don’t,” notes Geng.
“There is more than fear in how they view him,” says Siyuan. “There is respect and loyalty. You’re right. I don’t fear him, or, at least, I do not fear him the way that the others do. He is just and fair; the only people he does not take kindly to are those who disobey him and those who are rebels. I am neither. I have only need to fear if I make a mistake. I have not yet.”
“Do you talk to him of me?” Geng pushes his own plate of food away: he no longer wants it.
“Sometimes, if he asks after you,” says Siyuan. “He asks how you are getting on.”
“What do you reply?”
“I reply that you are how you always were,” says Siyuan, and he grins and Geng realises that there is something in that statement that he doesn’t understand, and which he shouldn’t anyway: a private joke between the Captain and Siyuan.
No, he thinks, Siwon, and he asks, “What would my Korean name be?”
Siwon reaches behind him and pulls out a piece of paper and writes down some symbols, which Geng can’t read. “Han-kyung,” Siwon says slowly, and Geng imitates the sounds.
“I prefer my Chinese name,” he says with a laugh, and looks up, catching Siwon’s eye as he does so, and Siwon reaches out and takes hold of his arm tightly.
“Hankyung,” he says, voice rough, and then he stops and there is an awkward silence, which Geng tries to break.
“I said I preferred my Chinese name,” and he laughs softly and tries to pull away, but Siwon holds him still and looks at him, and Geng realises with a jolt.
“The Captain hasn’t requested your presence tonight.”
“No,” says Siwon, his voice little more than a breath. “No, he hasn’t. Please, Geng - Hankyung,” and when he leans in and kisses him, Geng doesn’t fight back. He lets Siwon pull him to the bed; he lets Siwon push him down into the covers and thin mattress; he lets Siwon strip him of his clothes and his pride and his free will. Afterwards Siwon kisses away the tears that he wasn’t even aware that he had shed.
Siwon’s duties lie with the Captain each night, so they take their chances while they can during the day; Siwon slipping through the door in early morning to wake Geng with his mouth and hands. He smells like sex each time, and his hair is always ruffled in a way that can’t be put down to merely sleep; he always smiles lazily at Geng as he opens his eyes, sliding under the covers and into the warmth, where Geng makes quick work of his hastily done up buttons and ties, until Siwon is gasping out his name, Geng, Hankyung, against his neck.
Geng tries to convince himself that it is stupid to feel jealous, of someone that he has met only once, but it is hard when they have to snatch every moment that they can, while the Captain has Siwon every night, free to spend his time on finding out what makes Siwon tick. Geng hasn’t quite got time for that, choosing instead to focus on the here and now, what makes Siwon happiest at that point in time, what Siwon does with his hands that makes Geng gasp and moan. He tries to convince himself to not feel jealous, but he can’t manage it.
Three months in, he has picked up enough Korean to understand what the men outside talk about when they work; he sits with them and talks with them, and they do not hurt him because if Siwon is not watching him, then Heechul will be, and they are scared of them both. They don’t treat him with respect, but he doesn’t ask for that. He wants to talk, and practice his skills, and by the time Siwon brings the Captain to the room, he can understand a lot more than he can speak.
“The Captain is here,” calls Siwon in Chinese, and holds the door open for Heechul to duck under his arm, as Geng stands up slowly, his book of simple Korean characters forgotten on the table.
“I wanted to meet you,” says Heechul, and he stands and looks carefully at him. “I understand that you’ve softened to Siwon.” Geng struggles for something to say, trying to string foreign syllables into some form of meaning, but he evidently takes too long, because Heechul turns back to Siwon.
“Is he a mute?” he asks, with a smirk. “I still never got my mute.”
“No, Captain,” murmurs Siwon with a smile.
“I wouldn’t say I’ve softened,” says Geng in Mandarin, and Siwon translates. Heechul turns that half smile onto him.
“What would you say?” he asks, standing just inside Geng’s personal space.
“I cannot say,” Geng tells him in his strange Korean, and Heechul tips his head back and bites his lip, deliberating.
“It’s eating you up inside, isn’t it?” His fingers brush over the shoulders of Geng’s shirt, old greying material which should have been replaced long ago. “You can’t bear that we share him. You know that I had him first, but you don’t see why that should make any difference. You’ve still got him now.”
Every word that he says is the truth, every syllable striking hard at Geng’s heart. The fingertips touch his neck. He hates this man for seeing through him in a second, for knowing everything, for having Siwon for so long, but he loves him too, he sees that, loves him for not giving a damn what Geng thinks of him, loves him for being so far away and letting Siwon work on him, loves him for recognising what needed to be done. He loves and hates his perceptiveness. Love wins out. He wants to wipe away that smirk, make him stop looking at him like that, and so he leans in and kisses Heechul hard, using his hands to trap him when it seems like he will pull away.
Why should he care what Heechul thinks of him? He is not part of the crew; he is not loyal to him. If Heechul wants to throw him off the ship, then so be it. But Heechul seems to like this forcefulness; it is not something that he gets from Siwon, new and novel, and he presses up closer to Geng and moans into his mouth, and his fingers move down to pull at Geng’s trousers, held up by a thin leather belt, and then another pair of hands circle his waist and unfasten the belt quickly - Siwon, he notes dimly, his hands pushing Heechul’s coat off, pushing him back to the bed, Heechul smirking against his lips and hooking a leg around his hips, Siwon’s familiar form pressed to his back.
Before long, Geng is invited to the Captain’s room at night, Siwon’s arm around his waist as Heechul pulls open the door and smirks at him. Sometimes Siwon goes alone. Sometimes Heechul seeks Geng out during the day when he is free, stepping into the room, and Geng always puts down whatever it is that he is doing and lets Heechul step into the circle of his arms, the older man whispering Hankyung, moaning at the muttered Chinese that Geng always slips back into.
But after six months he has had enough. This is not enough for him, his limited freedom, place at the bottom of the ladder, locked in his room whenever they land, Siwon’s mutters of apology as the door clicks shut. Geng doesn’t know if he will attempt an escape, but he needs that chance to find out.
“Let me go, Siwon,” he whispers one night when they are able to be together, Siwon’s arm around his waist, Siwon’s lips pressed against his temple. Siwon stiffens and lets go of him in order to sit up and stare at him.
“What?” he asks, and Geng knows that he knows that he wasn’t referencing the arms that held him close. There is an uncertainty in Siwon’s eyes.
“Let me join the crew,” Geng says softly in Chinese: he knows that his limited Korean will not allow him to get his point across in this case. “Let me have my freedom. Let me go.”
Siwon lies back down and takes him back into his arms, kissing him softly, and he says quietly, “Joining is not the same as free, Geng.”
“Haven’t I already pledged my loyalty?” His hand trails over the marks that he has left on Siwon’s stomach, marks that Heechul will take the time to renew this time tomorrow. “I can’t live like this,” and he knows that he can’t, not trapped in the position that he is. “Please, Siwon. Siyuan.”
Siwon hands him a fresh set of clothing two days later, with a good pair of boots and a coat that he had no need of before, not while he was a toy. He is given a gun and a sword too, and that night Siwon hands him the dagger that he first attacked him with before they go to see Heechul.
They secretly train together, and Geng learns how to fight slowly but surely. It comes more easily that Korean, but he has got a good grasp of that too. He remains in Siwon’s rooms - he is not given his own place in the crew’s quarters like Siwon said he had been given. He doesn’t want that, Siwon looks sickened at the thought, and Heechul just laughs at them and tells them to do whatever they want. And so they do.
He works with only Siwon, and he does not allow any discussion on the matter. He pretends to not understand when orders suggest otherwise. Siwon worries that it will annoy the Captain, but when Heechul is told of it, he smirks and calls Geng to him and whispers against his skin that he can work with Siwon if he wants. Geng grins at him.
Because Geng was Siwon’s primarily, he does not have that respectful devotion to Heechul that Siwon has. He is not afraid to tell Heechul where he is wrong, or where he is being foolish. Siwon worries about that too, thinking that he is being insolent, but he takes care to keep his suggestions carefully worded, stilted Korean murmured under his breath that only Heechul and Siwon are able to understand, Heechul glancing at Siwon as if for confirmation that Geng speaks the truth, before he changes his mind and plans something else.
The other men are amazed at the way that he fights; they claim that it is as though he is dancing, sword flashing through the air, moving quickly to hands and fists if he looses any of his weapons. He trains every day in order to live that bit longer. It doesn’t stop the men from leering at him, nor the crude whispers, but Geng just pretends that he doesn’t understand it: it’s easier that way. Siwon pretends that he doesn’t notice. It takes Geng some time to get used to Heechul’s games, but once he does he becomes used to not reacting - the men are practice for ignoring Heechul. Sometimes he really doesn’t understand Heechul, but most of the time he is pretending, asking what, what, I don’t understand over and over again until Siwon is trying to cover his mouth with his hands to hold him quiet and still, scared of the consequences, and Heechul is smirking at him, eyes flashing in the darkness, hands sliding over his skin to still him that way.
Heechul doesn’t mind the way he acts when they are alone. Geng would not dare act like that in public, on the deck of the ship, but when they are alone, he can do what he wants - he knows that Heechul will forgive him for it. He understands the Captain in much the same way that Siwon understands him, but different still. A pet of Siwon’s, but a lover of Heechul’s. He respects him as a superior, fears him as a captain, loves him as a man.
Heechul watches him train one day with Siwon, and although Geng has improved beyond recognition, Siwon is still that bit better, and Geng knows that he will never be able to catch up, but he feels that that is okay: he would not want to rise above Siwon anyway. Principle and pride would stop him from taking that road, because he still sees himself as Siwon’s pet.
It takes a significant amount of time, but then the inevitable happens and he is forced to the floor, his sword far out of his grasp, dagger by his feet, his hands held down above his head to stop him from attempting anything that way. It is a remarkably familiar position, and both know that the Captain is watching them. Geng knows that Heechul’s eyebrow will be raised as he looks at them, and the thought of him there, watching, proves itself to be an aphrodisiac, making Geng moan and pull Siwon closer to him so he can kiss him roughly, not caring whether his lips are actually on Siwon’s, just needing something, anything, any sort of friction and closeness at all, and when they pull away, Heechul is standing over them, smiling in a way that Geng has never seen before. It is almost soft, that smile, and it both frightens him and makes him slide his hand beyond the material of Heechul’s coat and pull him close.
“I look forward to the day that you save my life,” murmurs Heechul, and Geng wants that day to come, wants it more than he can bear, just to show that he can.
The first time that he is called on to lead an attack on another ship shocks even Geng. Siwon has been injured, and it is Heechul who announces it, shouting that Hankyung will be in charge, follow his orders, and there are dark mutterings from the men around him, and Geng doesn’t blame them: he has been given this job at the expense of other, more experienced men, and besides, he has only been part of the crew for a few months, and he is seen as nothing more than a pet, albeit a one that is a fairly good fighter. Why should he be given that honour?
He proves why, and that shocks him too. He fights at the front, helps the others, clears a way forward, and he takes a slash to the arm that was meant for someone else and continues to fight. He does what needs to be done, doesn’t leave a single man behind, and while he doesn’t know enough Korean to call himself fluent, although Siwon thinks otherwise, he knows enough to get his point across, and the men find it easy to follow his simple orders. Many accept him after that, and those that don’t, those who still try to pull him into dark corners and secluded spots, he shows them mercy too.
Siwon welcomes him to the room that night with open arms, wiping away the blood that has found his face with shaking hands, and Geng just stares at him with wide, exhilarated eyes. He does not like the killing, does not like the feeling of blood running over his hands, but he relishes his freedom, because he believes that he is free. He might not like to kill, but he is not trapped, and he has chosen this life, a life in Siwon’s arms and Heechul’s arms and no way of turning back.
*
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” says Heechul thoughtfully, “but is that a ship I see in the distance?”
“Perhaps your eyes are going,” says Hankyung from behind him, voice pitched so that only he and Siwon can hear it, on the raised level above the bustle on the main deck. His words are muddled; grammar slightly out of place, but Heechul understands what he is trying to say with an innate experience. “We shall have to get you glasses next time we land.”
“Be quiet,” orders Heechul, and turns expectantly to Siwon, who is holding a telescope to his eye.
“It is,” he confirms, and grins at Heechul.
“Oh good,” says Heechul, and turns triumphantly to Hankyung, who lowers his eyes in deference, but smiles slightly anyway. Heechul notices that there is a rip in his coat, at the shoulder, that Hankyung doesn’t seem to have noticed, but Heechul thinks with some disgust that it makes him look scruffy and ragged: it is not how his left hand man should look, and so he turns to his right hand man.
“Remind me to get Hankyung a new coat next time we land,” he tells Siwon. “He’s starting to look as though we can’t afford to clothe our crew.”
“Fine, Captain,” says Siwon.
“I should think we can afford it,” says Hankyung, taking the telescope from Siwon and holding it up so he can look through it himself. “Especially after this. We’re in fishing ground but it looks more like a merchant ship to me.”
“Let me see,” says Heechul, and Hankyung hands the telescope over and steps back to give him some room. Hankyung is right: it is a magnificent ship, with new white sails and he can just about make out a man standing near the wheel, fat and resplendent. “It seems such a shame to attack that,” he murmurs.
“But we’re going to anyway,” says Siwon, picking up his sword that he has placed beside him and fastening it around his waist.
“Yes,” says Heechul, and turns to Hankyung. “You’ll lead; Siwon will bring up the rear. Make it loud and flashy, I’ve missed that approach. Try blowing it up, we haven’t done that in a while.”
“You won’t be joining us?” Hankyung pauses in loading his gun with fresh shot to look at him with some surprise.
“No,” says Heechul, and he doesn’t explain why. Honestly, he just doesn’t feel like it, but he knows that Hankyung and Siwon will come up with reasons as to why he isn’t leading the attack, each more ridiculous than the one before, which he will be told at some point, Hankyung laughing into his ear, because both will come to realise honestly why. He also wants to give them this chance to work together, because it is rare that they can, and he wants to see what will happen, how they will do it. His father would laud him for his soft heart, he thinks dryly.
“Oi!” Siwon strolls over on the other side of the raised level to look out over the crew going about their duties. “Stop whatever you’re doing and look at me.” They do so. Heechul knows that they fear Siwon almost as much as they fear him. “We’re coming up on a merchant vessel,” says Siwon, “and we’re going to loot it and possibly blow it up. I know how much fun that will be for you all.”
“I’m sure it will be,” says Hankyung softly and sarcastically, and Heechul smirks at him.
“Take whatever you can find,” continues Siwon. “We’ll be coming up on it in around half an hour, make sure that you’re prepared.”
“No prisoners,” prompts Heechul. “That rule has been strangely lax these past few years.”
“No prisoners,” relays Siwon, the corners of his lips twitching and Hankyung smiles widely as he leans back against the railings casually. The crew stare up at Siwon for more instructions; there are none, and he tells them so harshly, so they “jump to it”. He walks back over to where Heechul is looking back out at the ship that they are nearing, and slips his arm around his waist. Heechul leaves it there for a few minutes.
“Are you sure you don’t want any prisoners?” asks Hankyung, pulling his sword from the sheath and inspecting it. “It always seems to work out so well for you.”
Heechul steps in between his legs, the silver of Hankyung’s sword held in front of their faces, Siwon’s arm still heavy against his waist. Hankyung lowers the weapon and puts it away and grins at him, and one hand rests on Heechul’s hip, and the other reaches out and clasps Siwon’s free hand.
“No,” says Heechul quietly, so that only Siwon and Hankyung can hear him. “I don’t want any prisoners.” They take it is final, and Hankyung kisses him softly, and Siwon brushes his hair from his face.
I don’t need any more prisoners.