Plundering is for More than Ships (Part 2) - USUK
Title: Plundering is for More than Ships
Fandom: Hetalia
Pairing: USUK
Rating: R-18
Warnings: Smut
Summary: Pirate AU. Ten years ago, Alfred was taken from Captain Arthur Kirkland forever one ill-fated night. Ten years and a miracle later, Arthur realizes that forever isn't so long after all.
He had a dream that night: a beautiful dream filled with sweet memories. Alfred was in them, smiling and beautiful and young as he had always been. Arthur wanted to hold on to that beautiful dream and never leave. He didn’t want to lose Alfred again.
Yet, the dream did not last long. There was a loud crash beyond the walls of his cabin, and he jolted from his hard cot. He dressed rapidly but lavishly, never one to seem slovenly to his crew. He wore a large white shirt that puffed out around his lithe frame and white pants so common in the time period. The pants were stuffed into crisp leather boots that reached mid-calf and folded over at the top. He fastened a brown leather belt to his waist, a holster for his long-barreled pistol at his hip. He wore a red velvet coat, embellished with lace and the gold buttons and trimmings that he had envied on Antonio’s garb. Lastly, he wore an impressive three-cornered hat, complete with feather on the crown of his unruly blond hair. Satisfied with his appearance, he emerged on the ship’s deck, shouting angrily at the crew, “What’s going on out here? You useless bastards! What are you lollygagging around for? Man the cannons!”
It was all too familiar. Towards the port edge was a boat; however, this was distinctly English in build unlike the Spanish galleon. The sky and sea were dark aside from the torches aboard each ship and the occasional blast of a cannon. Arthur stood somewhat puzzled, questioning why an English-built ship would be chasing them. It wasn’t a government ship; there were no symbolic flags. Something about the scene before them was off, and Arthur yearned to know more.
Arthur swore to his crew, demanding their cooperation against the enemy ship. The closer the ship grew to their vessel, the more Arthur feared a fate without miracles. Perhaps this was God’s way of telling him to move on because dead or alive, he would never see Alfred. Rotting in prison and rotting in hell couldn’t be much different.
The enigmatic ship was only feet away from Arthur’s vessel. The Englishman placed his hand beneath the layers of his coat, ready to grab his pistol for a close-range combat. He barked orders to his men, demanding they prepare for the same. However, as a plank was lowered between the two English ships and one man crossed over, Arthur felt weak. An endless sickening feeling swelled in his stomach - angry, scared, and shocked. Keeping his eyes locked with the newcomer’s, Arthur hissed for the crew to stow their weapons. As the metallic clangs of swords and pistols dulled, the newcomer grinned: still bright over all the years.
“It’s good to see you again after all these years, Arthur.”
“Likewise, Alfred.”
Alfred removed his hat, bowing both gracefully and cockily. He was no longer the sweet, innocent little boy Arthur remembered. His body had changed so much. He had grown tall and fit, more so than Arthur ever dreamed, and his face had angled nicely over the past years. He still looked young, keeping his chin clean-shaven, quite the impressive feat for a pirate (one that Arthur had taken to achieving over his sea-faring years) and his eyes were still the endlessly blue sapphires Arthur so fondly remembered. His hair was still the wheat-coloured blond of his childhood days, and hadn’t changed in cut. The one wild strand of hair jutted up from the scalp, untamable. However, more than anything else, Arthur remembered the smile: bright and gleeful as ever with rows of straight teeth. Yet, in that smile, there wasn’t innocence - there was devilish delight. It was as though he knew exactly what he wanted and was about to snatch his prey. Brimming with uneasiness, Arthur pulled his pistol from the holster and aimed it between Alfred’s eyes. “What business do you have blasting holes through my ship, you damned sea rat?”
Alfred stepped back at the sight of the gun, but laughed, trilling and childish. “You wouldn’t believe how many ships I’ve sunk looking for you. When I was taken from you so many years ago, I waited. You wouldn’t believe how many days I sat by that hangman’s noose, watching man after man die, hoping one day, you would be there for me to save. So when you never came, I knew you had to be on the seas again. I’ve been looking for you, Arthur, and now that I’ve found you, I’m never letting you go again.”
Arthur bit his lip and furrowed his eyebrows. The pistol dropped from his hands because he simply could not hold onto it with his shaking, sweating hands. Relieved, Alfred stepped forward and threw the shell-shocked pirate over his shoulder. “Well sirs, it’s been a pleasure. Don’t worry. I have what I came for. Your ship will not receive any more damage at my hands.”
He returned to his ship, carrying (or at least trying to carry) a now kicking and screaming Arthur. “Put me down you bloody wanker! I don’t want to be carried. I am a ship’s captain and will not tolerate being treated like such a powder monkey!”
Alfred laughed, a lighthearted, childish laugh that quelled the Englishman. Arthur remembered the laugh so vividly. He had dreamed of it and desired it greater than any treasure on the seven seas. It broke his corrupted heart to hear the laugh he lusted to hear once more bellowing from not a boy but a man: a man who had strayed from the path of innocence, hardened by slaughter and the cruelties of the world. They reached Alfred’s ship, and with Arthur still over his shoulder, the once-child waved with a cheeky smile, raising the plank between the two ships. Over the clatter of crewmembers preparing to set sail once again, a gruff voice belonging to a pirate Arthur could not see spoke, “Did you get what ye’ were looking for, Captain Jones?”
“Captain?” Arthur screeched, his breath hitched.
“O’ course!” Alfred said, patting Arthur’s back fondly and a little too close for comfort. “What do you think I’m carrying: a sack of potatoes? Nah, this is much better looking than a sack of potatoes.”
“We will get paid for this, yes? I ain’t wanderin’ across the seas for some pretty-boy pirate for free, ya know.”
“Do you honestly think I would cheat you? I’m an honest man. I keep my promises.”
“You’re a pirate, you bloody bastard. It’s your nature to lie.”
Alfred chuckled. “Yeah, but not this time! Cross my heart!”
When the shuffle of boots could be heard against she ship’s planks and Arthur began to bob with Alfred’s hasty step, he hissed into the younger’s ear, “Captain? Since when are you of all people a captain?”
Alfred roared with laughter, sending Arthur bobbing up and down with every quake of the shoulders. “I dunno. Guess it’s my natural charm.”
“But you’re so young. You must be only eighteen!”
“Nineteen.”
“You’re still a bloody child!”
“Artie, you were even younger than I am now, and you had been sailing as captain long before me!”
Arthur went quiet, not wanting to admit that Alfred was correct. He had been a young fool, claiming ships left and right from only the tender age of fifteen. He had been like a child at playtime, commanding fleets with imaginary crews that were far from falsified in the imagination. He tricked his crews at first with brash language and knowledge as endless as the crystalline waves he sailed, but he couldn’t trick Alfred. Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line. “That’s not the point. You’re still a child to me.”
Alfred entered the captain’s quarters and set Arthur down, locking the door with a resounding click. He pressed Arthur’s against the wooden walls of the cabin, eyebrows furrowed and eyes glazed. “Then let me prove to you that I’m no longer a child.”
Plunder was a word Arthur knew very well. He had plundered ships and treasure stores hidden away by other plunderers. He knew what he wanted and knew how to take it without regard for others. He had considered himself expert at the activity, but never knew his charge would become so proficient at the one type of plundering Arthur had yet to attempt. Lips, tongue, and teeth clashed together with violent satisfaction. Alfred purged uncertainty from Arthur’s lips. Fierce and relentless as a warrior, he sheathed his moist tongue into Arthur’s cavernous mouth. Arthur had never felt such animosity be channeled into lust, but every sweep, lick, and thrust made him yearn. He moaned blissfully as Alfred worked, disappointed that he could do nothing but let himself be orally violated - captain’s instincts repressed by an overwhelming burst of arousal.
Alfred’s hands were as intrusive as his tongue. They raced over his body, groping every inch of pale, scarred skin. Arthur jerked back as skilled fingers raked down his back, but the disconnection of lips was only momentary. Alfred wrenched Arthur back, entwining his dexterous fingers in choppy blond locks. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” Alfred whispered, each word punctuated by a thrust of the tongue.
Arthur attempted to push away. He was disgusted with himself. Day after day he had spent searching for a boy. His memories of Alfred were childish and sweet. He choked back tears that their reunion would be so vulgar, stripped of the innocence Arthur had loved. However, the more Alfred kissed him, the more foggy Arthur’s mind became. Regret was pushed to the back of his mind by Arthur’s probing tongue, further and further out of his reach until it slipped away into the abyss of the past.
The first thing to go was the red velvet coat. Arthur’s hat had toppled off somewhere onboard Alfred’s ship, though he didn’t register that it had happened. In a stroke of courage, Arthur grasped the openings of Alfred’s blue coat, ripping it off his shoulders with a swell of inner passion. Arthur could feel Alfred’s grin against his lips as he swiveled his shoulders, letting the blue coat pool around his feet. Arthur’s belt and holster were the next to fall, clattering to the ground with the soft thud of leather and a metallic clink of metal against the wood floor of the cabin. Before Alfred could rip the clothes from Arthur’s body, the older captain inched his lips to the younger’s ear. His breath ragged and gasping from Alfred’s lips sucking longingly against the side of his exposed column of neck, Arthur whispered, “Bed.”
The single word was husky and commanding, and Alfred was willing to comply these demands. He lifted Arthur - skinny legs wrapped around his waist, arms coiled around his neck, and lips crashing like waves against each other in insatiable passion - and carried him to the meager bed, stumbling from aroused inebriation. As soon as Arthur’s back touched the stiff bed cushions, Alfred went to work, stripping Arthur of his boots and himself of both boots and white cotton shirt. Arthur stared at the expanse of chest above him, taking in each dip and curve and muscle with wide, stunned eyes. When Alfred was a child, his body had been flat and undefined. Now, however, his body was shaped and masculine. He wasn’t completely fit, but somehow it suited Alfred. Nevertheless, his pectorals were flat and squared, and the slight hint of abdominals could be seen below his ribs. His body was rectangular, though somewhat skinnier at the waist than expected. His arms were long and thick with definite muscles gained from his piracy days. Arthur raised his arms and ran his hands along the curve of Alfred’s muscular arms.
With a short laugh, Alfred plucked the hands from his arms and pinned Arthur’s wrists together above his head with one hand. With the other, he crept up and under Arthur’s large white shirt. Splayed, calloused fingers traced slowly upward from the navel, teasingly stopping at one of Arthur’s nipples. Alfred traced around the nub with one dexterous finger, making the older moan and grunt angrily that Alfred was teasing. Alfred relinquished Arthur’s wrists, pressing the palms of his hands on Arthur’s chest. Alfred dragged his fingers down to the waistband of Arthur’s pants, untying the cord belt that closed them and pulling the rough fabric of his pants and underclothes from Arthur’s creamy thighs. Arthur pulled his knees to his stomach, trying to cover himself with his cotton shirt. Alfred ran his palms up the pirate’s legs, stopping with his fingertips on the hem of the puffy shirt. “Still hiding? Come on, Arthur. You can’t keep yourself covered. We both know you want this.”
Arthur whimpered letting skilled hands rid him of his shirt in one fluid movement. He covered his body by pulling his knees to his chest, feeling so exposed in front of his former charge. Alfred didn’t seem to care for his mortification. “You’re lovely. You have the body of an aristocrat - so smooth and clean and frail. I want you, Arthur. Please let me have you. I’ve wanted you for so long.”
Arthur moaned languidly, spreading his knees for Alfred. The younger captain pushed them farther apart, fitting his shoulders into the splayed gap of legs. Arthur panted, embarrassed by the intrusion. He was in no way well endowed, and the throb of arousal pulsed violently at every searing touch. Alfred stroked the Englishman’s cock with a long finger from base to tip, relishing Arthur’s strained pleasure. Alfred wrapped his fingers around the organ with a wide smirk, pumping and stroking almost simultaneously with a strong grip. The once feared captain writhed wantonly beneath his former charge, moaning with every stroke to his virginal manhood. Pre-cum dribbled from the tip and dripped down the sides of the shaft. Alfred licked at the slowly dripping fluid, causing Arthur to choke, letting out a high-pitched squeak. “Alfred! Please just stop teasing and get to the bloody point!”
Alfred grinned devilishly. “I’ve been practicing every day for you, love. I wanted to be perfect for you.” He slid is fingers downward, dancing on Arthur’s balls for a moment before finding his goal - the tight, pink puckered hole displayed by the split in his legs. Alfred explored the hole expertly, running his finger around the outer ridges before running an uncut nail over the tightly clamped opening. Arthur was a whimpering mess, crying uncontrollably with shame and pleasure. “Alfred, please!” He cried out simpering.
Arthur was a pirate, hardened by months spent committing crimes against God and his country. He rarely cried, and never in front of others. Yet, as Alfred, his Alfred, touched him in such explicit ways, he couldn’t help but be reduced to such a pathetic state. He had abstained from sex his entire seafaring life, but as his beloved boy touched him in ways that opened the box of his pent up emotions, shooting them out in every direction. His heart burned as he felt all former power and stature seep from his body. His moans became needy and pathetic at merely the thought of Alfred fingering him. “Please!”
Alfred complied with a curt nod, plunging one digit into Arthur’s tight hole. The former captain screamed, his throat nearly shattering in lustful pain. As Alfred probed, feeling around the moist cavern, Arthur became more accustomed to the feeling. His demands became coarser like a captain’s orders, a change that made Alfred’s already wide smile stretch from ear to ear. “Hurry it up,” Arthur growled, hissing as Alfred swirled his finger around inside of him. “I can’t handle this speed. I need more and you’re going to bloody well give it to me.”
Alfred complied, inserting a second digit and spreading his two fingers apart. Initially, Arthur whined, choking back sobs at the initial pain of intrusion. Yet, as he became accustomed to the scissoring, he recomposed himself. Assuming the straight face of an experienced seaman, he gritted his teeth and spluttered, “I am growing impatient with your lollygagging, Jones. Honestly, do you think of me as weak? I can handle pain far greater than this! I have been beaten, tortured, and imprisoned, yet the greatest pain I have endured is waiting for you. Do not make me wait any longer!”
Alfred smirked, removing his fingers and taking Arthur’s chin with one hand to pull their lips together in a bruising kiss. When they broke apart, Alfred spoke, whispering words just a hair’s breadth away from Arthur’s lips so every syllable could be felt on the Briton’s mouth. “It’ll hurt. It’ll feel like I’m breaking you in half, splitting you open until your eyes are stung with white and your hole is ripped and raw. But the pleasure will be so much greater. You will be mine, completely mine, just like I’ve wanted since I lost you.”
Arthur groaned, grasping Alfred’s back and tearing long red tracts into his skin. “Shut up,” he growled. “Stop talking and get on with it.”
When it came to the male body, Arthur was only familiar with his own body from glimpses of the looking glass in his quarters, and never in a state as vulgar as his current position. When Alfred removed his trousers, the elder couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of the long, throbbing organ that had only been a bulge of fabric before. Arthur crawled eagerly to it, fascinated by the sight of another man’s erect phallus. His eyes shone as he reached to touch like an enraptured child. Alfred seethed pleasurably at each touch letting out his own low moan when Arthur took the tip into his mouth unexpectedly, stroking the shaft with limber sailor’s fingers. Arthur’s head bobbed as he mouthed the dick, taking in as much of the length as he could without choking (albeit, it wasn’t much). Nevertheless, Alfred relished the attention the once reluctant captain willingly offered him, only moving to regain control when Arthur relinquished the length for a much-needed breath with a faint pop. He coaxed his former captain to lie back on the threadbare bunk, and pushed his legs apart in eager lust. “This’ll hurt. Just relax.”
Pain. Head-splitting pain seared through Arthur’s backside as though a pair of red-hot hands were clawing their way into England’s entrance to tear his body in two. The scream that echoed the captain’s quarters was one of agony. Alfred’s face fell in terror, knowing his beloved pirate was in utter pain. He began to pull out slowly, his saliva-slicked cock sliding against the walls of Arthur’s puckered hole. A languid moan bubbled from Arthur’s throat, demanding that slow friction of bodies. Alfred picked up a slow, shallow rhythm: filling Arthur’s virginal cavity again and again. Each thrust of the hips made Arthur’s moans transform from yowls of anguish to pleas of ecstasy. As Arthur became more accustomed to each jab, Alfred plunged his dick in deeper. Arthur felt as though he would break into two pieces until suddenly, he saw white. Pure euphoria filled his brain and he found himself screaming, “There! Again!” while clinging desperately to Alfred.
Each carefully aimed thrust of the hips shot stars into Arthur’s eyes. His body clenched around Alfred’s sliding cock, gasps and moans bubbling from his throat. A hard tremor shivered up his member and coiled within his balls. It was as though a hand were squeezing his anatomy until it burst. “Alfred,” he panted, his body quaking with need. “I feel like I am going to explode. Alfred. Alfred. ALFRED.”
Ribbons of white erupted from Arthur’s tip, splattering his stomach with a map of sticky semen. Alfred continued haphazard thrusts, leaning down to lap eagerly at the mess. It was only a minute before Alfred grunted, moaning Arthur’s name in pleasure and spilling his own seed into his beloved captain. Their breaths were erratic at first, but slowed into heaving pants. Arthur leaned forward, passionately capturing Alfred’s lips and splaying his fingers into his wheat-coloured hair. They lay together on the scratchy cot, wantonly splayed with their bodies tangled together in the small space. Alfred smiled, kissing the crown of Arthur’s head as he pulled the smaller pirate into a close embrace. “I love you, Arthur Kirkland. I want you to be mine and never leave me again.”
Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, pressing a curled hand against the flat muscles of Alfred’s chest. He had found what he had lost - his treasure - and wouldn’t dare think of leaving again. He didn’t want to imagine the hurt and loneliness of being apart from his beautiful boy - no - his beautiful man. “I will be beaten, I will be tortured, and I will die before I feel the pain of being taken from you again.”
A.N. - This was written for my beloved Iggy and Sea~ I hope you enjoyed it! Sorry for the terribly long wait. You've been wanting this for three months now! ;A;
Fandom: Hetalia
Pairing: USUK
Rating: R-18
Warnings: Smut
Summary: Pirate AU. Ten years ago, Alfred was taken from Captain Arthur Kirkland forever one ill-fated night. Ten years and a miracle later, Arthur realizes that forever isn't so long after all.
He had a dream that night: a beautiful dream filled with sweet memories. Alfred was in them, smiling and beautiful and young as he had always been. Arthur wanted to hold on to that beautiful dream and never leave. He didn’t want to lose Alfred again.
Yet, the dream did not last long. There was a loud crash beyond the walls of his cabin, and he jolted from his hard cot. He dressed rapidly but lavishly, never one to seem slovenly to his crew. He wore a large white shirt that puffed out around his lithe frame and white pants so common in the time period. The pants were stuffed into crisp leather boots that reached mid-calf and folded over at the top. He fastened a brown leather belt to his waist, a holster for his long-barreled pistol at his hip. He wore a red velvet coat, embellished with lace and the gold buttons and trimmings that he had envied on Antonio’s garb. Lastly, he wore an impressive three-cornered hat, complete with feather on the crown of his unruly blond hair. Satisfied with his appearance, he emerged on the ship’s deck, shouting angrily at the crew, “What’s going on out here? You useless bastards! What are you lollygagging around for? Man the cannons!”
It was all too familiar. Towards the port edge was a boat; however, this was distinctly English in build unlike the Spanish galleon. The sky and sea were dark aside from the torches aboard each ship and the occasional blast of a cannon. Arthur stood somewhat puzzled, questioning why an English-built ship would be chasing them. It wasn’t a government ship; there were no symbolic flags. Something about the scene before them was off, and Arthur yearned to know more.
Arthur swore to his crew, demanding their cooperation against the enemy ship. The closer the ship grew to their vessel, the more Arthur feared a fate without miracles. Perhaps this was God’s way of telling him to move on because dead or alive, he would never see Alfred. Rotting in prison and rotting in hell couldn’t be much different.
The enigmatic ship was only feet away from Arthur’s vessel. The Englishman placed his hand beneath the layers of his coat, ready to grab his pistol for a close-range combat. He barked orders to his men, demanding they prepare for the same. However, as a plank was lowered between the two English ships and one man crossed over, Arthur felt weak. An endless sickening feeling swelled in his stomach - angry, scared, and shocked. Keeping his eyes locked with the newcomer’s, Arthur hissed for the crew to stow their weapons. As the metallic clangs of swords and pistols dulled, the newcomer grinned: still bright over all the years.
“It’s good to see you again after all these years, Arthur.”
“Likewise, Alfred.”
Alfred removed his hat, bowing both gracefully and cockily. He was no longer the sweet, innocent little boy Arthur remembered. His body had changed so much. He had grown tall and fit, more so than Arthur ever dreamed, and his face had angled nicely over the past years. He still looked young, keeping his chin clean-shaven, quite the impressive feat for a pirate (one that Arthur had taken to achieving over his sea-faring years) and his eyes were still the endlessly blue sapphires Arthur so fondly remembered. His hair was still the wheat-coloured blond of his childhood days, and hadn’t changed in cut. The one wild strand of hair jutted up from the scalp, untamable. However, more than anything else, Arthur remembered the smile: bright and gleeful as ever with rows of straight teeth. Yet, in that smile, there wasn’t innocence - there was devilish delight. It was as though he knew exactly what he wanted and was about to snatch his prey. Brimming with uneasiness, Arthur pulled his pistol from the holster and aimed it between Alfred’s eyes. “What business do you have blasting holes through my ship, you damned sea rat?”
Alfred stepped back at the sight of the gun, but laughed, trilling and childish. “You wouldn’t believe how many ships I’ve sunk looking for you. When I was taken from you so many years ago, I waited. You wouldn’t believe how many days I sat by that hangman’s noose, watching man after man die, hoping one day, you would be there for me to save. So when you never came, I knew you had to be on the seas again. I’ve been looking for you, Arthur, and now that I’ve found you, I’m never letting you go again.”
Arthur bit his lip and furrowed his eyebrows. The pistol dropped from his hands because he simply could not hold onto it with his shaking, sweating hands. Relieved, Alfred stepped forward and threw the shell-shocked pirate over his shoulder. “Well sirs, it’s been a pleasure. Don’t worry. I have what I came for. Your ship will not receive any more damage at my hands.”
He returned to his ship, carrying (or at least trying to carry) a now kicking and screaming Arthur. “Put me down you bloody wanker! I don’t want to be carried. I am a ship’s captain and will not tolerate being treated like such a powder monkey!”
Alfred laughed, a lighthearted, childish laugh that quelled the Englishman. Arthur remembered the laugh so vividly. He had dreamed of it and desired it greater than any treasure on the seven seas. It broke his corrupted heart to hear the laugh he lusted to hear once more bellowing from not a boy but a man: a man who had strayed from the path of innocence, hardened by slaughter and the cruelties of the world. They reached Alfred’s ship, and with Arthur still over his shoulder, the once-child waved with a cheeky smile, raising the plank between the two ships. Over the clatter of crewmembers preparing to set sail once again, a gruff voice belonging to a pirate Arthur could not see spoke, “Did you get what ye’ were looking for, Captain Jones?”
“Captain?” Arthur screeched, his breath hitched.
“O’ course!” Alfred said, patting Arthur’s back fondly and a little too close for comfort. “What do you think I’m carrying: a sack of potatoes? Nah, this is much better looking than a sack of potatoes.”
“We will get paid for this, yes? I ain’t wanderin’ across the seas for some pretty-boy pirate for free, ya know.”
“Do you honestly think I would cheat you? I’m an honest man. I keep my promises.”
“You’re a pirate, you bloody bastard. It’s your nature to lie.”
Alfred chuckled. “Yeah, but not this time! Cross my heart!”
When the shuffle of boots could be heard against she ship’s planks and Arthur began to bob with Alfred’s hasty step, he hissed into the younger’s ear, “Captain? Since when are you of all people a captain?”
Alfred roared with laughter, sending Arthur bobbing up and down with every quake of the shoulders. “I dunno. Guess it’s my natural charm.”
“But you’re so young. You must be only eighteen!”
“Nineteen.”
“You’re still a bloody child!”
“Artie, you were even younger than I am now, and you had been sailing as captain long before me!”
Arthur went quiet, not wanting to admit that Alfred was correct. He had been a young fool, claiming ships left and right from only the tender age of fifteen. He had been like a child at playtime, commanding fleets with imaginary crews that were far from falsified in the imagination. He tricked his crews at first with brash language and knowledge as endless as the crystalline waves he sailed, but he couldn’t trick Alfred. Arthur pressed his lips into a thin line. “That’s not the point. You’re still a child to me.”
Alfred entered the captain’s quarters and set Arthur down, locking the door with a resounding click. He pressed Arthur’s against the wooden walls of the cabin, eyebrows furrowed and eyes glazed. “Then let me prove to you that I’m no longer a child.”
Plunder was a word Arthur knew very well. He had plundered ships and treasure stores hidden away by other plunderers. He knew what he wanted and knew how to take it without regard for others. He had considered himself expert at the activity, but never knew his charge would become so proficient at the one type of plundering Arthur had yet to attempt. Lips, tongue, and teeth clashed together with violent satisfaction. Alfred purged uncertainty from Arthur’s lips. Fierce and relentless as a warrior, he sheathed his moist tongue into Arthur’s cavernous mouth. Arthur had never felt such animosity be channeled into lust, but every sweep, lick, and thrust made him yearn. He moaned blissfully as Alfred worked, disappointed that he could do nothing but let himself be orally violated - captain’s instincts repressed by an overwhelming burst of arousal.
Alfred’s hands were as intrusive as his tongue. They raced over his body, groping every inch of pale, scarred skin. Arthur jerked back as skilled fingers raked down his back, but the disconnection of lips was only momentary. Alfred wrenched Arthur back, entwining his dexterous fingers in choppy blond locks. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this,” Alfred whispered, each word punctuated by a thrust of the tongue.
Arthur attempted to push away. He was disgusted with himself. Day after day he had spent searching for a boy. His memories of Alfred were childish and sweet. He choked back tears that their reunion would be so vulgar, stripped of the innocence Arthur had loved. However, the more Alfred kissed him, the more foggy Arthur’s mind became. Regret was pushed to the back of his mind by Arthur’s probing tongue, further and further out of his reach until it slipped away into the abyss of the past.
The first thing to go was the red velvet coat. Arthur’s hat had toppled off somewhere onboard Alfred’s ship, though he didn’t register that it had happened. In a stroke of courage, Arthur grasped the openings of Alfred’s blue coat, ripping it off his shoulders with a swell of inner passion. Arthur could feel Alfred’s grin against his lips as he swiveled his shoulders, letting the blue coat pool around his feet. Arthur’s belt and holster were the next to fall, clattering to the ground with the soft thud of leather and a metallic clink of metal against the wood floor of the cabin. Before Alfred could rip the clothes from Arthur’s body, the older captain inched his lips to the younger’s ear. His breath ragged and gasping from Alfred’s lips sucking longingly against the side of his exposed column of neck, Arthur whispered, “Bed.”
The single word was husky and commanding, and Alfred was willing to comply these demands. He lifted Arthur - skinny legs wrapped around his waist, arms coiled around his neck, and lips crashing like waves against each other in insatiable passion - and carried him to the meager bed, stumbling from aroused inebriation. As soon as Arthur’s back touched the stiff bed cushions, Alfred went to work, stripping Arthur of his boots and himself of both boots and white cotton shirt. Arthur stared at the expanse of chest above him, taking in each dip and curve and muscle with wide, stunned eyes. When Alfred was a child, his body had been flat and undefined. Now, however, his body was shaped and masculine. He wasn’t completely fit, but somehow it suited Alfred. Nevertheless, his pectorals were flat and squared, and the slight hint of abdominals could be seen below his ribs. His body was rectangular, though somewhat skinnier at the waist than expected. His arms were long and thick with definite muscles gained from his piracy days. Arthur raised his arms and ran his hands along the curve of Alfred’s muscular arms.
With a short laugh, Alfred plucked the hands from his arms and pinned Arthur’s wrists together above his head with one hand. With the other, he crept up and under Arthur’s large white shirt. Splayed, calloused fingers traced slowly upward from the navel, teasingly stopping at one of Arthur’s nipples. Alfred traced around the nub with one dexterous finger, making the older moan and grunt angrily that Alfred was teasing. Alfred relinquished Arthur’s wrists, pressing the palms of his hands on Arthur’s chest. Alfred dragged his fingers down to the waistband of Arthur’s pants, untying the cord belt that closed them and pulling the rough fabric of his pants and underclothes from Arthur’s creamy thighs. Arthur pulled his knees to his stomach, trying to cover himself with his cotton shirt. Alfred ran his palms up the pirate’s legs, stopping with his fingertips on the hem of the puffy shirt. “Still hiding? Come on, Arthur. You can’t keep yourself covered. We both know you want this.”
Arthur whimpered letting skilled hands rid him of his shirt in one fluid movement. He covered his body by pulling his knees to his chest, feeling so exposed in front of his former charge. Alfred didn’t seem to care for his mortification. “You’re lovely. You have the body of an aristocrat - so smooth and clean and frail. I want you, Arthur. Please let me have you. I’ve wanted you for so long.”
Arthur moaned languidly, spreading his knees for Alfred. The younger captain pushed them farther apart, fitting his shoulders into the splayed gap of legs. Arthur panted, embarrassed by the intrusion. He was in no way well endowed, and the throb of arousal pulsed violently at every searing touch. Alfred stroked the Englishman’s cock with a long finger from base to tip, relishing Arthur’s strained pleasure. Alfred wrapped his fingers around the organ with a wide smirk, pumping and stroking almost simultaneously with a strong grip. The once feared captain writhed wantonly beneath his former charge, moaning with every stroke to his virginal manhood. Pre-cum dribbled from the tip and dripped down the sides of the shaft. Alfred licked at the slowly dripping fluid, causing Arthur to choke, letting out a high-pitched squeak. “Alfred! Please just stop teasing and get to the bloody point!”
Alfred grinned devilishly. “I’ve been practicing every day for you, love. I wanted to be perfect for you.” He slid is fingers downward, dancing on Arthur’s balls for a moment before finding his goal - the tight, pink puckered hole displayed by the split in his legs. Alfred explored the hole expertly, running his finger around the outer ridges before running an uncut nail over the tightly clamped opening. Arthur was a whimpering mess, crying uncontrollably with shame and pleasure. “Alfred, please!” He cried out simpering.
Arthur was a pirate, hardened by months spent committing crimes against God and his country. He rarely cried, and never in front of others. Yet, as Alfred, his Alfred, touched him in such explicit ways, he couldn’t help but be reduced to such a pathetic state. He had abstained from sex his entire seafaring life, but as his beloved boy touched him in ways that opened the box of his pent up emotions, shooting them out in every direction. His heart burned as he felt all former power and stature seep from his body. His moans became needy and pathetic at merely the thought of Alfred fingering him. “Please!”
Alfred complied with a curt nod, plunging one digit into Arthur’s tight hole. The former captain screamed, his throat nearly shattering in lustful pain. As Alfred probed, feeling around the moist cavern, Arthur became more accustomed to the feeling. His demands became coarser like a captain’s orders, a change that made Alfred’s already wide smile stretch from ear to ear. “Hurry it up,” Arthur growled, hissing as Alfred swirled his finger around inside of him. “I can’t handle this speed. I need more and you’re going to bloody well give it to me.”
Alfred complied, inserting a second digit and spreading his two fingers apart. Initially, Arthur whined, choking back sobs at the initial pain of intrusion. Yet, as he became accustomed to the scissoring, he recomposed himself. Assuming the straight face of an experienced seaman, he gritted his teeth and spluttered, “I am growing impatient with your lollygagging, Jones. Honestly, do you think of me as weak? I can handle pain far greater than this! I have been beaten, tortured, and imprisoned, yet the greatest pain I have endured is waiting for you. Do not make me wait any longer!”
Alfred smirked, removing his fingers and taking Arthur’s chin with one hand to pull their lips together in a bruising kiss. When they broke apart, Alfred spoke, whispering words just a hair’s breadth away from Arthur’s lips so every syllable could be felt on the Briton’s mouth. “It’ll hurt. It’ll feel like I’m breaking you in half, splitting you open until your eyes are stung with white and your hole is ripped and raw. But the pleasure will be so much greater. You will be mine, completely mine, just like I’ve wanted since I lost you.”
Arthur groaned, grasping Alfred’s back and tearing long red tracts into his skin. “Shut up,” he growled. “Stop talking and get on with it.”
When it came to the male body, Arthur was only familiar with his own body from glimpses of the looking glass in his quarters, and never in a state as vulgar as his current position. When Alfred removed his trousers, the elder couldn’t help but marvel at the sight of the long, throbbing organ that had only been a bulge of fabric before. Arthur crawled eagerly to it, fascinated by the sight of another man’s erect phallus. His eyes shone as he reached to touch like an enraptured child. Alfred seethed pleasurably at each touch letting out his own low moan when Arthur took the tip into his mouth unexpectedly, stroking the shaft with limber sailor’s fingers. Arthur’s head bobbed as he mouthed the dick, taking in as much of the length as he could without choking (albeit, it wasn’t much). Nevertheless, Alfred relished the attention the once reluctant captain willingly offered him, only moving to regain control when Arthur relinquished the length for a much-needed breath with a faint pop. He coaxed his former captain to lie back on the threadbare bunk, and pushed his legs apart in eager lust. “This’ll hurt. Just relax.”
Pain. Head-splitting pain seared through Arthur’s backside as though a pair of red-hot hands were clawing their way into England’s entrance to tear his body in two. The scream that echoed the captain’s quarters was one of agony. Alfred’s face fell in terror, knowing his beloved pirate was in utter pain. He began to pull out slowly, his saliva-slicked cock sliding against the walls of Arthur’s puckered hole. A languid moan bubbled from Arthur’s throat, demanding that slow friction of bodies. Alfred picked up a slow, shallow rhythm: filling Arthur’s virginal cavity again and again. Each thrust of the hips made Arthur’s moans transform from yowls of anguish to pleas of ecstasy. As Arthur became more accustomed to each jab, Alfred plunged his dick in deeper. Arthur felt as though he would break into two pieces until suddenly, he saw white. Pure euphoria filled his brain and he found himself screaming, “There! Again!” while clinging desperately to Alfred.
Each carefully aimed thrust of the hips shot stars into Arthur’s eyes. His body clenched around Alfred’s sliding cock, gasps and moans bubbling from his throat. A hard tremor shivered up his member and coiled within his balls. It was as though a hand were squeezing his anatomy until it burst. “Alfred,” he panted, his body quaking with need. “I feel like I am going to explode. Alfred. Alfred. ALFRED.”
Ribbons of white erupted from Arthur’s tip, splattering his stomach with a map of sticky semen. Alfred continued haphazard thrusts, leaning down to lap eagerly at the mess. It was only a minute before Alfred grunted, moaning Arthur’s name in pleasure and spilling his own seed into his beloved captain. Their breaths were erratic at first, but slowed into heaving pants. Arthur leaned forward, passionately capturing Alfred’s lips and splaying his fingers into his wheat-coloured hair. They lay together on the scratchy cot, wantonly splayed with their bodies tangled together in the small space. Alfred smiled, kissing the crown of Arthur’s head as he pulled the smaller pirate into a close embrace. “I love you, Arthur Kirkland. I want you to be mine and never leave me again.”
Arthur furrowed his eyebrows, pressing a curled hand against the flat muscles of Alfred’s chest. He had found what he had lost - his treasure - and wouldn’t dare think of leaving again. He didn’t want to imagine the hurt and loneliness of being apart from his beautiful boy - no - his beautiful man. “I will be beaten, I will be tortured, and I will die before I feel the pain of being taken from you again.”
A.N. - This was written for my beloved Iggy and Sea~ I hope you enjoyed it! Sorry for the terribly long wait. You've been wanting this for three months now! ;A;