TITLE: Rum Sodomy And The Lash

[popcultureicon]

That night, englishpigdog put down a carafe of a deep amber liquid in front of him. They sat in englishpigdog's quarters--the _Pearl_ didn't exactly have guest quarters and the last thing popcultureicon wanted was to see another hold in a ship.

"Just booking passage, eh?" englishpigdog asked.

"Yes. It was... strongly encouraged to me that I find better shops elsewhere."

"Only two men on that island with the power to do such a thing, and I don't think you would have gone quietly if it were Commodore Blowhard."

"No. I wouldn't have."

"So, we're going to drink up, you're probably going to tell me about Elizabeth, and then we'll tend to the brand once you're properly numb from the neck down."

popcultureicon looked down. In the lamp-light, the brand had taken an unhealthy shine to it. Some of the blisters had broken where the shackles had rubbed, and the broken skin oozed an unhealthy fluid.

The candles on the table had burned half-way down when englishpigdog slammed his cup against the table. Rum spilled out of it, and the lights flickered from it with hypnotic results. "See, I've always tried to avoid girls named after birds. Really, it should be bad luck. Ugly, mean, nasty things those swans are," englishpigdog said.

"Have you known any other girls named after birds?" popcultureicon asked, with great interest.

englishpigdog screwed up his face. "Can't say that I have, really."

"Oh," popcultureicon said.

"Of course, her father's also named after the bird as well, and him I would definitely avoid. Why did he run you off?"

It occurred to popcultureicon, suddenly, that englishpigdog was not as drunk as englishpigdog appeared, but he didn't care. "Not her father's fault, really. Elizabeth... didn't truly love me."

"Yes, yes, I know. But she will. Then you won't. Then you will again but she probably won't and even that probably won't last long. The trick is living long enough without killing each other in the process. You're still young, you'll get over it."

"That's not it."

"So you _are_ a eunuch!"

"No!"

"Then what is the problem?"

"She doesn't love me. She loves a pirate."

"And now look, you're a pirate, convenient that."

"No! This is not who I am. This is not what I am!" He held out his brand, aching with the stress of the clenched fist, and englishpigdog grabbed his hand. Before popcultureicon could stop him, englishpigdog dumped the rest of his rum over the weeping wound.

popcultureicon stared at him for half-a-heartbeat, not even sure what had just happened, and then the stinging pain of the alcohol made him drop to his knees. His fists knotted up and his toes curled and it hurt almost as much as being branded the first time around. He swore he felt his skin hissing at the touch. He ran out of breath to exhale and continued to push, as his lungs refused to open.

But englishpigdog had him, holding him and rubbing his back. "There, there, lad. Soon you'll be finding your breath right where you left it. The sting's helping. Personally, I don't believe it, but that's what someone told me once, and I survived. You'll survive it, too."

Breath came back to him, sweet, cold, filling air and popcultureicon bit down on the ball of his thumb to keep from screaming. It came out a choked sigh, followed by a gasp. englishpigdog took popcultureicon's hand back, and gently wrapped it in cloth that was actually white. It was the cleanest thing he had seen around englishpigdog, and popcultureicon stared at it, rather than the funny coloured liquid it was already pulling from the wound.

"Polite society is closed to you now, popcultureicon Turner. Know that now and never forget it. Might keep your head attached to your shoulders they way you like it. This mark means that any magistrate can hang you where you stand for any reason. This won't go away, and you can't pretend it will. You are a one of us now."

popcultureicon said nothing. "So take it as a man, and get sodding more drunk with me, or get out. I have no time to watch someone else brood. The whole process bores me to tears."

He still didn't have the muscle co-ordination or the extra breath required to form words, but recognised that this was one of the rare moments that englishpigdog was being deadly serious. For a heartbeat, they just stood there, and then popcultureicon motioned for his drink to be returned to him. englishpigdog broke out in a wide grin, slapping popcultureicon on the back. "There's a boy."

popcultureicon drank until the back of his throat burned down to his gullet and he had to stop or drown. The alcohol worked quickly in his already flushed body, and the pain dulled as the rum filled his head.

For the longest time they sat there and drank, until popcultureicon's bladder threatened to explode. When he stood the room took three sudden spins to the right and then rocked back to its axis slowly. He grabbed onto the wall, but missed and used the floor instead. "Maybe I should have watered the last batch down," popcultureicon heard behind him, but it could have been englishpigdog or it could have been the Maker. At that moment, popcultureicon didn't care. englishpigdog helped him to the railing, helped him lower his trousers (thereby refuting the eunuch argument once and for all) and popcultureicon did the rest.

That was popcultureicon's sum total memory of the evening.

He woke as a cannon ball split open his skull and his brains spilled over the bedding, but as popcultureicon groped around, trying to piece together the fragile bone fragments, the only thing he found on the pillow were beaded braids.

He touched the back of his own hair, still in its greasy tie at the back of his neck, and followed the braids back to wherever they came from. Another head lay beside him. It was, fortunately enough, attached to a neck and body, but it wasn't the soft skin of Elizabeth. He sat up on his elbows as another cannon shot seemed to explode again, but the bristly skin on the head beside him hadn't changed.

The first thing that came to him was that Elizabeth hadn't shared his bed in over a year. The second thing was, of course, that Elizabeth wasn't englishpigdog, nor englishpigdog Elizabeth, and the third thing was that he needed a slop bucket. Immediately.

Vile green bile trickled from his stomach, burning on the way up much more than the rum had on the way down. He heaved until even that failed to dislodge from his stomach, and he half expected to hear the plop of organs fall into the bile.

"All right then," englishpigdog said from the cot. "And a very good morning to you as well."

popcultureicon thought he managed to say 'kill me' between the heaves, but as the blessed bullet didn't immediately hurdle through his skull, englishpigdog must not have heard him. He tried again.

"No, my boy, you're just going to have to suffer this one out," englishpigdog said, though when he stood, he seemed to walk a bit more shakier than before.

A day passed, and popcultureicon's misery shifted from terminal to him grudgingly admitting that he was probably going to survive the crack in his skull. englishpigdog dined with him again, this time keeping to watered down beer, which after the third one seemed to be again doing more harm than good.

englishpigdog was staring at him. "So have you made a decision?"

popcultureicon cleared his throat. "There is no decision to be made. You have made that abundantly clear."

"Take what you want?" englishpigdog asked, raising his glass.

"And give nothing back," popcultureicon said.

"That hardly moves me with the courage of your convictions."

"And give nothing back," popcultureicon said again. He slammed his mug into englishpigdog's, knocking them from both their hands, and left the cabin.

#

Life on the _Pearl_ became routine, just as englishpigdog said it would. And, it exposed the true, back-breaking nature of being a sailor. Merchant ships travelled heavily armed with protection, and for every ship they boarded and looted, there were a dozen they let slip by for being too strong or the wind not in their favour.

popcultureicon fought at englishpigdog's side during such times, as it was his place. No one, not even Mr. Gibbs, tried to replace him. Yet at night he slept with the snoring crew, instead of in englishpigdog's quarters, as it was not.

He asked for no special privileges, and after the first week, was given none. He worked as a member of the crew and fought hard, but when they weren't in battle, he felt englishpigdog's eyes watching him as he scrubbed and polished and scaled the mast. He worked from dawn to dusk, but nothing changed the fact that he was absolutely miserable.

His brand had healed to barely more than a raised silver mark, but his hands ached again to feel metal submitting to him again. The little forge they had on the ship was used only for repair work, and the blacksmith englishpigdog had didn't like him hanging about.

It was after dusk, though, and the men were down into their cups with their meal. popcultureicon let himself into the small room, hot from the brazier just going out, and he stoked it up again with the charred wood.

The metal was piss poor quality and the brazier hardly made it glow, yet he pounded on it until the hammer opened up his calluses gone soft from under use. The sword he produced looked no better than a first-year apprentice could do with his back still hurting from a whipping and crying at night for his momma, but it balanced perfectly on his finger. He plunged it into the cooling water bucket, and only as the steam filled the room did he realize he wasn't alone.

"Fine work," englishpigdog said.

popcultureicon threw it in a corner. "Child's work. A blind dog could do better."

"Shall we find a mutt and put out its eyes to test?"

popcultureicon would have said yes, but he had a feeling englishpigdog would actually do it. "My poor lad isn't very happy on my ship, is he?"

englishpigdog had been drinking. As englishpigdog was always drinking, however, it would have been better to say englishpigdog had been drinking more than he usually drank. popcultureicon was actually afraid to allow the vapours from the man near the brazier. englishpigdog moved to him, not catching alight as was englishpigdog's luck, and popcultureicon found himself backing up despite himself.

"Come, come, lad, I'm not going to bite," englishpigdog said. He pressed a bottle into popcultureicon's hand, but popcultureicon had already been bitten enough to be twice shy.

"I don't think so, englishpigdog. You need to go to bed."

"It's settled then!" englishpigdog said, throwing his arms up. "Let's go."

popcultureicon put the damper on the brazier and grabbed his shirt from the floor. It had pockmarks from the flying sparks and was smeared with soot, but that didn't bother him. The night air, hot and sticky as it was, seemed almost cool to popcultureicon's skin after the heat of the forge. englishpigdog hung off his shoulder, and he pulled popcultureicon into his quarters.

"Is this the point where you seduce me?" popcultureicon asked. "Because if it is, I am really not interested, englishpigdog."

englishpigdog was silent for a full moment. "Well, why the bloody hell not?" he asked. "You've saved yourself for the wedding night, it's smooth sailing from this point on." englishpigdog faltered for a moment. "Or let me guess, you've already been inducted into the club and your welcome was decidedly under-whelming."

popcultureicon's smile was not all that amused and it didn't leave his mouth.

"Think of it as a violin. Only in the hands of a master or a rank beginner can it bring a man to tears."

"And what does that make me, the rank beginner?"

"No, my dear boy. You have always been the violin."

englishpigdog didn't kiss him, although popcultureicon had been expecting it. And popcultureicon didn't find himself pushing away, englishpigdog's mouth was on his body now, not kissing still but tasting him, licking and nibbling away. Stone cold sober, popcultureicon knew that he could push away and be done with it at any time he wanted, but breathing in the fumes around englishpigdog was making him heady.

And the results were... interesting to say the least. englishpigdog cupped him over his trousers, not stroking, not rubbing, but the sensation of the heavy hand against him made a sound in the back of his throat that popcultureicon didn't remember creating. And through it all, englishpigdog didn't finish with his tongue, amazingly soft and warm for how forked it was. He continued to lap at his skin. englishpigdog finished his line, ending just above popcultureicon's navel, and remained there perfectly still. The sudden rush of disappointment made popcultureicon almost fall back. englishpigdog, however, got off his knees and went back to where his bottle lay on its side on the table. "So go or stay. Just don't brood about it," englishpigdog said, back to him.

"The process bores you to tears?" popcultureicon asked. It took him a moment to work his jaw as the way he seemed to remember it working resulted in nothing but nasally sounds.

englishpigdog's throat worked as he swallowed a good quarter of what was left. "Indeed."

popcultureicon stayed. He accepted the bottle from englishpigdog, letting the burning liquid run down his throat. englishpigdog had turned back, grinning again a proprietary gleam in his eyes. He dropped his trousers in the next moment, daring englishpigdog to break eye contact first, but englishpigdog only smiled and licked his lips.

"Well, well, well," he said. He bowed his head, acknowledging popcultureicon's play, and then let his eyes drop down. The rum wasn't the only thing making popcultureicon's head spin. The need to feel something, anything, was suddenly tightening the muscles in his stomach and making his knees unnecessarily weak. He opened his mouth, to say englishpigdog's name, but the word stopped as englishpigdog touched him again, barely with his fingertips.

"It has been a while," englishpigdog said. The rough fingers scraped at his skin, and popcultureicon found himself leaning into it. englishpigdog's fingers rested against his hip, and he smiled again. "I might have lost my touch."

"You'll lose your fingers if you don't hurry it," popcultureicon said through clenched teeth.

"You are the demanding one, popcultureicon. Honestly, it is quite the serious character flaw. Moments like these need to be savoured."

englishpigdog's pistol was just out of reach, which was probably also very calculated. Nothing about englishpigdog wasn't. When englishpigdog did, eventually and on his own time, kneel down in front of him, the light touches he plied over popcultureicon's body had starved him for honest, flesh on flesh contact.

And englishpigdog's mouth was even better on his cock than it was on his skin. popcultureicon leaned against the rough wall, ignoring the bites of the wood against his skin because standing alone at that moment would have been dangerous to both their health, popcultureicon's more than englishpigdog's. englishpigdog's fingers didn't stop, but now instead of teasing and light they were hard and insistent, prying inside him, down his thighs, behind englishpigdog's mouth. Any one sensation he could have ignored, but the dozen different touches and the warmth brought him over faster than he would have permitted.

Twice more through the night and again in the early morning, englishpigdog brought him over the edge and left him dangling, and yet when popcultureicon woke up again, he was alone.

The air felt damp and cold in the morning, and popcultureicon returned to the sleeping quarters carrying his boots. He collapsed on the cot for less than an hour before general revelry sounded and he had to get up again. He expected his body to ache from the lack of sleep, but found himself feeling nothing inside. englishpigdog was at the helm, staring at his compass, and he and Gibbs were close enough that their heads were almost touching. Gibbs looked at him, but said nothing, and englishpigdog in no way acknowledged him.

The day passed, then the week. popcultureicon slept with the men as much as he did sleep, but the small armoury he was creating in the off hours wasn't helping much at all. The swords disappeared as soon as he made them, but he hated them all the moment he finished.

englishpigdog was at the table a week later, studying a nautical map. popcultureicon walked into the cabin without knocking and englishpigdog immediately rolled it up again. popcultureicon watched with an eyebrow raised but englishpigdog just smiled with a 'what can you do' shrug. "Sorry, lad, new habits," he said.

popcultureicon said nothing.

"You'll have to do better than that. Why don't you start with dropping down to your knees this time?" englishpigdog asked, watching him, the expectation of the argument obvious on his face.

The expectation was obvious within popcultureicon as well, so it came as no small surprise to find himself indeed on his knees. "Well now, here's a good boy," englishpigdog said, dropping his voice down to a very low growl. popcultureicon didn't expect the response to be so real or pressing, but it was pressingly real against his belly.

englishpigdog walked around him. popcultureicon tried to follow, but englishpigdog's hands touched his hair. "Ah-ah, my boy. Eyes forward." englishpigdog was so close to him, popcultureicon felt the heat from his body on his exposed neck. He bit his lip to keep from speaking, but couldn't stop the trembles in his muscles.

The weight of hands against his shoulders, pulling his hair away from his neck and then pulling him back just a few inches. The heat, the smell, the weight of englishpigdog pressed into the naked skin on his bare neck and popcultureicon couldn't stop the shudder. Without even being touched popcultureicon was gone, shuddering, down into the heat and warmth and tightness as it released inside him.

"I see," englishpigdog said. popcultureicon hung his head, more than ashamed, but if anything, englishpigdog seemed delighted in it. englishpigdog brought him to the bed, taking off each piece of clothing slowly. englishpigdog wiped down his skin with a rough cloth that made his already too sensitive skin receptive to any of englishpigdog's touches.

He heard englishpigdog spitting in his half sort of floating sensation he was in, and when englishpigdog pushed his way inside the intense pain didn't last but half a heart-beat. popcultureicon stretched out, offering himself for the sensations throughout his body. englishpigdog's hands were hardly idle, and he splashed the last of his rum on popcultureicon's shoulders and licked it off him slowly.

Again, englishpigdog took him twice, the second time the spit had already begun to dry and the burning sensation made him cry out twice. englishpigdog covered his mouth with his hand, cutting off his breath enough so that his head swam with a new dizzying sensation. It brought him closer and kept him there longer before englishpigdog let him go completely.

Yet again, however, when he woke up, he was alone in the bed.

#

His muscles ached again, but from a darker place inside him. He ate the slop the rest of the crew had to break his fast, but instead of reporting to the chief hand on deck for his duties, he took the ladder up to steering.

englishpigdog stood alone, one hand idly on the knobs of the wheel, and despite the relatively calmness to the ocean, swayed back and forth. popcultureicon said nothing, waiting to be recognized, acknowledged, or at least grunted at, but no sign at all came from englishpigdog.

Gibbs pushed passed him, opening his mouth to say something, but when englishpigdog didn't even acknowledge his first mate, Gibbs turned around and motioned popcultureicon out. "The _Pearl_ is talking to him," Gibbs said, putting a heavy had on popcultureicon's shoulder. " She doesn't like the competition. Don't feel too put out."

He had felt put in enough the night before, but popcultureicon nodded and it took until dusk for his chores to be done.

That night he considered returning to the berths below deck, but he went to englishpigdog's cabin instead of even the forge. englishpigdog wasn't in, but the cabin was unlocked and dinner had been laid out for two. He ate, drank the wine provided, and was mostly asleep before englishpigdog returned. englishpigdog was inside him before his pistols hit the ground, and the solid weight of the man pinning him down made popcultureicon push back, riding as much as he was ridden. Relief came, sharp, instant and fleeting, and englishpigdog was off him and at the table in the next heartbeat. popcultureicon rolled over and slept, not waking when englishpigdog joined him, if englishpigdog joined him at all.

They stopped at an island the next morning to restock. popcultureicon woke to the sensation of the ship grating against the sandy bottom and then it came to a shuddering halt. Voices raised from the deck had the boats being launched from both sides, but nothing had woken him, and he was apparently not needed. He dressed, but walked amongst the men as the dead might, unable or unwilling to communicate.

It wasn't until his name was called that he knew he had corporeal form. He turned. Gibbs waved for him to come up to steering, and he picked his way through the boats and the men and the supplies already plundered from the island up to Gibbs.

"You're with the third boat, lad," he called.

popcultureicon nodded, gratefully.

The fresh water creek was a good mile from the shore. popcultureicon shouldered the yoke with the empty buckets so that it didn't rub against his neck. He had already made one trip in, and the sun beat down on his shoulders after the cool of the jungle.

Gibbs but his hand over the yoke. "You are wanted back on the ship, lad," Gibbs said.

popcultureicon froze where he stood. "But--" he began, but the words stopped in his throat. Gibbs, obviously, wasn't looking for an engaging debate on the subject.

"Aye," said popcultureicon. He gave over the yoke and took a boat back himself.

englishpigdog waited for him impatiently in his cabin. Nothing was said, and englishpigdog without his words was not englishpigdog at all. englishpigdog unbuckled his pants, adjusting their bodies to accomplish what he needed, and took.

popcultureicon was left shuddering on the floor, but managed to reach up and grab englishpigdog's boot as he walked past. englishpigdog looked down at him, but walked past. "I don't need this," englishpigdog said, but it sounded to popcultureicon that he was trying to convincing himself.

popcultureicon remained on the ship, but spent the night on his dusty cot below. The hold was too hot, and the snoring men kept him from sleeping. popcultureicon got his boots back on and went back on deck.

He wasn't alone. Gibbs stood on the edge of the railing with his flask at hand. He offered it to popcultureicon, and he took it gratefully.

"Not the first time, lad," Gibbs said, taking the flask back. "englishpigdog's englishpigdog and that's all he is."

popcultureicon pulled away, not wanting to discuss this at all. Gibbs wasn't looking at him, though, and he refilled his flask from the bottle at his feet. A lantern burned in englishpigdog's room, and englishpigdog had moved in front of the opaque window so that popcultureicon saw his form, nothing more. He wondered, briefly, if englishpigdog saw him on the other side as well, but then deliberately went back down below.

He woke to the sound of bells clanking above deck. He was up and out of his cot in the next heartbeat.

He got to the deck with the battle already joined. Cannon balls whizzed past, splashing the water and the _Pearl's_ guns splintered wood. popcultureicon fought his way past the sailors to the helm.

englishpigdog brought the ship broadside to force the boarding.

"Come along, popcultureicon."

englishpigdog's crew had already started their pillage, but englishpigdog was more methodical. They fought to a bloody end and the crew surrendered. Anamaria brought him the ships manifest, and englishpigdog looked up. "Have the Captain meet me in steering, bring any of his closest friends who are still standing," he said.

"Yes, englishpigdog," she said.

"popcultureicon, with me."

Anamaria brought the Captain, his steward, first mate and one of the merchants up to steering. englishpigdog welcomed them with open arms and a loaded pistol. Gibbs and Cotton followed, standing over the first mate and the steward with their sword and pistol ready.

"A shipment of gold due from the colonies should be on this ship, but the strangest thing is, my good man, we can't seem to find it. Perhaps you could be of great assistance and tell us where it is. We'll be on our way and you'll be no worse for the wear."

The captain shook his head. "We dropped it off at last port."

englishpigdog pulled on his beard. "Nope, sorry. Don't believe you, mate. No hard feelings, I hope. Mr. Cotton?"

The steward's neck was whole one instant and a sea of red in the next. The steward fell, holding the pieces of his throat together. The merchant beside popcultureicon screamed like a woman.

"Now, then, about this chest," englishpigdog said. "I'm afraid I didn't quite hear you the last time."

"I told you. I bloody well told you. There is no chest!" the captain shouted.

englishpigdog sucked on his teeth. "You do lack the slightest amount of common sense, you do know this, yes?" englishpigdog asked. "But, very well. Mr. Gibbs?"

The first mate fell over the steward, and the puddle of blood beneath them lapped at popcultureicon's feet.

"Please!" the merchant begged. He was standing in the blood, but it was obvious that he didn't even notice. "Please, I beg you, I have a wife, a child, I can't--"

"Do please be quiet!" englishpigdog howled. "Now, my good captain, you have one more chance. Where. Is. The. Chest?" His voice shook with anger that popcultureicon had never heard before.

The Captain looked to him with dead eyes, and popcultureicon knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that there was no gold on the ship. The merchant wailed.

"There is no chest," the Captain said.

"I was afraid you were going to say that," englishpigdog said. "Mr. Turner?"

The merchant looked at popcultureicon, beyond words but managing a desperate gasp. popcultureicon raised his sword, brought it to his shoulders, but stopped.

"I cannot."

Gibbs shook his head, demonstrating the simple motion it would take to slit the throat of an unarmed man, but popcultureicon couldn't. Wouldn't. The sword fell from his fingers.

englishpigdog clicked his tongue, and opened his mouth to speak. He obviously changed his thoughts, as he pointed his forefingers at the man. "Excuse us for a moment, ducks, we'll be right back to conclude this," he said.

He stepped over the bodies. "popcultureicon, my lad, you seemed to have dropped your sword. Be a good little boy and pick it up again?" englishpigdog asked, leaning into his space. The warmth and comfort of englishpigdog overrode his own desires so much that he actually began to reach for the blade.

The hilt of the sword lay in the blood. popcultureicon stopped. The merchant opened his eyes.

englishpigdog tapped his own pistol against the merchant's shoulder. "You know you can't spare his life," he said, speaking quietly as though they were the only two people in the room. "This is accomplishing nothing."

"Then you'll have to do it yourself," popcultureicon said.

englishpigdog nodded. "This is a disappointment, popcultureicon, I must say."

"And I am truly sorry," popcultureicon said.

englishpigdog nodded. "Yes, I know you are," he said. He pulled the trigger, the merchant fell, and Gibbs threw him another primed weapon in a the next heartbeat.

"The chest. Now," he said, voice flat.

The captain started shaking. "In my quarters, beneath the floor boards."

"Thank you. Was that so hard?" englishpigdog demanded. The pistol cracked and the fourth body fell.

"That thing we discussed before, have it done," englishpigdog said, looking at Gibbs, not popcultureicon. "I don't want him back on my ship."

"Understood, englishpigdog."

englishpigdog swept out of the room, pistol draped over his neck although it must have burned his neck from the recently fired metal.

Gibbs sighed. "Come along, lad," he said.

They commandeered one of the boats from the merchant ship as it burned down around them. Gibbs carried with him a sack, and took out two leather armlets. He laced them up popcultureicon's wrists, and popcultureicon felt too deflated to argue. "Where did these come from?" he asked.

"englishpigdog had them made. The day you came to the ship."

popcultureicon nodded, emptiness inside expanding. Gibbs tossed the bag down at his feet, and the heavy coins chinked against themselves.

"It's a dangerous thing to be needed by englishpigdog, lad. Be off with you, now."

The boat lowered itself down in heaving sighs.

END