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A Fucking Pirate MMoM Ficlet
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Author: Tem-ve H'syan tem-ve@gmx.de
Title: A Fucking Pirate MMoM Ficlet
Pairing: Q/other
Summary: Not long after his encounter with the octopus, Jinn finds himself the unwitting subject of masturbation - human masturbation.
Warnings: none. Completely squick-free, this one.
Notes: As ever, thanks to Emu for creating this universe in the first place and letting me dabble in it once more. Oh, and she beta'd this one too! Further thanks go to Barbana for the feathered hat, and to Alex for the method of punishment, which I partly nabbed from her 'Provocateur'. Ah, it's lovely when talented ladies do your research for you... other than that, this is simply a wee fic celebrating the Merry Month of Masturbation as well as satisfying a couple of readers' curiosity as to the nature of that pirate captain.
Here be pirates!
Jinn's bottom hurt.
Well, given the position he was in, that was hardly surprising, especially considering the fact that he had been in that same position for the best part of a short Caribbean night. Shifting his weight uneasily, he tried to massage some blood back into his numb buttocks, achieving little more than to make the needles-and-pins sensation in his feet crawl up to meet its echo in his abused hindquarters.
He had had no idea sitting down could be this uncomfortable.
Mind you, it could have been worse. The captain could have had him beaten, cut or whipped; at least this way Jinn could be sure that his skin would recover the moment he was freed from this humiliating position, whenever that would be. Soon, he hoped.
Wriggling his feet a little, he winced at the chafe of the rough rope cinched around his ankles, tight enough to impair the flow of blood but not tight enough to be painful in itself. The ankle rope was lashed to the root of the mizzenmast, tucking Jinn's long legs out of the way of any sailors who might need to pass that particular area of the deck. His arms and upper body were propped up against the mast, wrapped in an artless coil of rope that left absolutely no room to move, his mouth stuffed with a coarse gag. He hung his head, partly because that was the only option he had. In all honesty, he knew he had been arrayed in such a way as to allow him to stay like this for a long time - which didn't exactly serve to lighten his mood.
It was not that he didn't understand what he was here for - a minor transgression, but one that had occurred and had to be dealt with on a tight ship such as this one. He was somewhat surprised to find he didn't detest the pirates as such, even though the reason he was lashed to the mast had been him lashing out at a pair of scoundrels who had dared to call him on his miraculous survival of the long days at sea that he had believed to be his last at the time. Had he called upon the assistance of pretty mermaids to buoy him up? But no, another had cut in, what would a mermaid have wanted from one like him, one who never talked girls, one who had never yet stained his hammock in communion with his right hand? Not mermaids, then - and pretty quickly, the consensus had been reached, amid raucous laughter, that Jinn would have had to whore himself to a pretty strong merman to keep afloat for that long. A swig of rum and a round of taunts later, they had demanded that he perform the appropriate duties for them, right away. Jinn had flown into a rage, half in shock at the rumour that had sprung up around the crew and that was too close to the truth to even think about, and half in fearful anger at the idea of an act he knew he would never willingly perform.
Being over six feet tall and equipped with a pair of strong hands helped with the convincing, of course, but being outnumbered and constantly observed by a crew that never even had the chance to look away in the close quarters of the Serpent meant that pretty quickly he found himself on his back, held down by at least four of his comrades, looking up at Captain Nicol's boots. The man's iron rule of his ship meant that Jinn had been in for some serious punishment for starting a fight on board - yet even as he found himself dragged away for the mast, he had overheard the captain giving the other lads a stern talking-to, leaving them in a no less wilted position than he was currently in, and without the ropes at that.
He was thirsty. Grimacing against the cloth stuffing his mouth, he tried to look up at the constellations, twist his head around far enough to see the potential glimmer of dawn in the east. No such luck - although the moon would have been bright enough to mask the first rays of sun, and the night watch had thankfully gone to sit at the other end of the deck, leaving Jinn to his misery.
Well, not exactly misery. Boredom, more like. The humiliation was entirely bearable in the absence of his fellow pirates - comrades, he was surprised to find, was the word that sprang to mind most readily - and he had every chance to hope that Nicol would have him released come morning. Every hand was needed, after all, and Jinn's hands were a valuable pair.
He couldn't really bring himself to begrudge the captain his harshness; he might have acted the same way had he been in charge of a pirate ship - a thought that had seemed totally alien to him a mere month ago.
Pirates, he had learnt, acted no differently from common sailors. Their code of honour, while rough-hewn and given entirely by themselves, was nevertheless adhered to, and a man could do far worse than be thrown upon the mercy of a pirate crew. Provided he was able-bodied and prepared to become a pirate himself, of course. Which, given the obvious choice of being thrown back into the water, had been a most welcome course of action for Jinn.
Nicol, or 'the Admiral', as his men called him in awed tones, ran the ship with an iron fist, and yet you would have been hard pressed to find any man complaining or envying him his position. Tough as nails but true as the North Star, they would say. Even when they were biting their lips keeping in the moans of pain after a well-deserved whipping.
He had got away without one, for which he was oddly grateful. He had seen men whipped for starting fights, and there was little evidence to suggest Jinn hadn't just done so. Ah, but he knows, Jinn thought, the Admiral knows the true nature of my brush with that creature. Perchance it moved him. Not that the Admiral knew any of what the forced coupling had awakened in Jinn, and by the stars, he would not.
Jinn snorted softly at the proud set of his jaw, such an automatic gesture of defiance. Way to look proud when you're gagged and tied to the mast, he thought helplessly. Good God, how many more hours till morning?
A noise behind him raised his hopes. Footsteps, quiet but purposeful. The morning watch? He resisted the urge to crane his head to see who it was - it might be a good idea to feign sleep, just in case someone had come to deal out a return blow while the captain wasn't looking. He'd had his nose broken twice already in his life, and personally he thought that was quite enough even for a nose the size of his. He could certainly do without adding injury to the insult of being tied to the mast all night.
The footsteps slowed, seemed to falter for a moment, then picked up again. Out of the corner of his eye Jinn saw a silhouette approaching, a figure leaning against the railing, watching him. Even if the moon had not been out in all her splendour that night, Jinn would have recognised the man immediately by his silhouette - the large old-fashioned respondent hat squashed into a slightly more modern tricorn shape and adorned with a trailing white feather that was ragged at the end and yet majestic.
It was Captain Nicol. The Admiral. Come out to gaze at the stars, apparently.
Well, that was what Jinn thought - until he heard the breathing. Harsh short breathing just barely below the threshold of voice, the breath of a man who had run a mile and stood sweating and panting, waiting to regain his composure or collapse. Nicol wasn't doing either, of course, but the fact that Jinn could hear his breathing from several steps away gave him pause. What was the man doing?
Before he could caution himself, he had turned his head to see, and found his gaze answered by the captain's challenging stare.
He had been watching Jinn.
Jinn blinked, his eyes drawn to a sight he would have averted his eyes from automatically had it not been for Nicol's I-dare-you expression, fierce and fearsome and yet awakening an answering challenge in Jinn.
The captain's hands were busy below his substantial belt, caressing a thick erection that poked shamelessly from the man's rumpled trousers. He looks like he's tried to sleep in his clothes, a distant part of Jinn's mind supplied. The rest was busy staring, no longer holding Nicol's gaze but keeping his eyes on the spectacle at hand as if to prove that he was man enough to watch without blushing.
It would not do for Nicol to witness just what the image of hands grasping a male member evoked in Jinn, and he swallowed the bitter memory convulsively, making a small retching sound against the gag.
A small noise answered him, a soft groan that was almost too gentle to come from so hard a man as the Admiral. Jinn's eyes flicked up to the man's face, a moonlit mask of glazed pleasure so fierce and pure it took Jinn aback. Was this what I looked like, he thought, heat colouring his cheeks at the memory of being impaled on the octopus's fat member, squeezed and rubbed raw all over, inside and out.
He had been hard - as Nicol was now. He must have looked like that... his eyes trailed back down towards the captain's hands and the treasure they were holding, one fist grabbing the thick shaft tightly while the fingers of the other hand played about the head, tiny rubbing touches to the glistening swollen flesh.
He found he enjoyed the sight - not just the sight of his captain in such a rare state of vulnerability and obvious bliss. Not just the sight of a private moment he had obviously been intended to witness, for whatever purpose Nicol may have had.
No. He found he enjoyed the sight of a hard cock. It was a strangely compelling thing, the eager flesh standing out so proudly among rumpled clothes, between callused fingers. That thing, that part of the human body he had loathed to touch even for the simple necessities of bathrooms and street corners, that thing that had sprung to life in a splashing struggling moment of painful shameful ecstasy - he had hardly seen it then, had hardly seen one hard in all his life. And now he was seeing one, and somehow it was nothing like the limp vulnerable little cock of the boy he had been. It was a different entity altogether, proud and hard and demanding. New and very, very odd.
The look of pleasure and challenge on Nicol's face touched something in Jinn, something he was afraid to even think about, and yet his flesh served to remind him only too well.
All the blood that had drained from his chafed ankles and numb buttocks had regrouped... elsewhere. If he looked down, he would doubtless see a raging hard-on making a bulge in the front of his trousers. He doubted Nicol could see, what with the awkward position Jinn was bound in, but he did not doubt the captain sensed the impact his actions were having.
Some of Jinn's blood made a dash for his cheeks.
Another barely-audible groan, this one lower and longer, almost a moan of pain, and the hand tightened on the captain's shaft, pumping urgently, the other hand moving to squeeze his balls, roll them roughly in his palm, crushing hard eager flesh at an increasingly frantic pace.
Jinn watched, mesmerised, as Nicol's hips began to buck involuntarily, in time with the pumping of his fist, and the moans grew rougher and less restrained, and Jinn found himself answering them, releasing the heat and discomfort of his own unwanted arousal in the only way he could. The ropes prevented him from moving, but the gag did little to restrain his groans of frustrated need.
Over the sound of his own panting in his ears, he had barely heard the captain's footsteps approaching, the man's heavy breathing now barely a step away. Jinn saw his feet in their scuffed boots, planted firmly beside Jinn's folded-up thighs. He felt himself shrinking in on himself as if preparing for assault, but nothing was forthcoming, nothing but more strangled groans, the rustle of cloth as the captain's hand sped up again, such an ordinary hand, and yet so incongruous so close to such a glorious thing, such a glorious hard cock. Such a simple thing, pleasure, and for a moment Jinn found himself struggling against the ropes that held him captive, wanting his own hands free so that he could touch himself, grasp that flesh and that opportunity and bring himself that same pleasure -
His hands were bound, of course, as was his whole body, wrapped in a tight embrace that was as humiliating as it was... yes. As hard as that, Jinn thought, raising his head once more, his vision filled with the sight of his captain pleasuring himself, and it was a beautiful sight, one that made his whole body surge with strange and compelling want, with the hunger for such sensation, hunger for such touches, hunger for such a stiff fat cock.
This time his groan was one of pure lust, and it all but drowned in the hissed curse that fell from the captain's lips as he jerked his hips one last time and sprayed a thin white ribbon of come from that desperate cock of his.
Some of it landed on Jinn's shirt, and he cared little for it. Another drop stained his trousers, there where his body screamed for a touch he was unable to give and uncertain to demand. He cared nothing for that drop either. It weighed too little to be felt through the rough fabric of his trousers.
What mattered, though, was the splash of semen running down Jinn's cheek like a thick tear, almost cool against his heat-flushed skin, mercifully absorbed by the cloth of the gag. It mattered because it caught the captain's eye, and for a long moment the two men stared at each other in silence, weighing secrets between them that neither had ever really revealed.
It was Captain Nicol, the Admiral, the notorious pirate captain, who looked away first, tucked his cock away inside his trousers, adjusted his belt and stretched like a cat in the fading moonlight, the feather on his hat brushing against the sleeve of his jacket. Taking a deep breath, he rested his hands on his hips, the very image of the fierce pirate captain that nobody dared cross. A man who had his men lashed to the mast all night for a small transgression.
A man whom Jinn would not, in all honesty, have expected to gently wipe the splash of semen from his cheek with his thumb, almost a lingering touch.
The musky warmth of that touch lingered with him for almost as long as the echo of the knowing, lopsided smile on the Admiral's face.
Compared to that, the sunrise, however long it was away, would be a pale spectacle indeed.