Master Apprentice Archive Darkness Descending Quick search:

Darkness Descending

by Master Elayna (Elayna88@aol.com)

Pairing: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi

Archive: M&A, my page http://www.shadowynd.com/~elaynas_den/index.html, anyone else please ask.

Category: Drama, romance, extreme AU.

Series: Second in the still-looking-for-a-title trilogy.

Feedback: Please! Any amount any time.

Dedicated: To Boots, for whispering "pirate Qui-Gon" and setting this bunny free.

Thanks: To Norma Jean for her thorough betaing.

Summary: A dishonorable pirate, an honorable member of the Royal Navy, sailing together on the high seas as privateers for the English crown, confront an enemy from the past.

Warnings: Historical ambiance, not accuracy. Mild violence. Remember the end of The Empire Strikes Back? This is the middle of a trilogy.

Disclaimer: The boys belong to his lordship George Lucas, I'm merely dressing them in thigh high boots and billowy shirts.

Captain Quinn stood in the prow of his ship, watching the ocean ripple as the ship cut through the waves. The patterns of the water never failed to fascinate him, the strength and majestic splendor of nature.

He sensed a presence stand beside him, turning to see Benjamin Larkin at his side. The naval officer was no longer dressed in his usual uniform, but instead wore a white shirt with billowy long sleeves, skintight black leather breeches, and black leather boots that ended mid-thigh. A wide brown leather belt with a cutlass hanging from it was strapped around his waist and a silver hoop pierced his ear.

There were some things even more splendid than the ocean, Quinn reflected. "I see you decided to change your uniform," he said calmly, not hinting that his heart was racing and the blood pooling in his nether regions.

"I was having a discussion with the men and they felt that after two months on board, I really should 'blend in' better. We've pieced together a whole new wardrobe for me. It was difficult to find clothes in my size." He grimaced. "I'm afraid I am shorter than most of your men."

"I'm not sure those breeches are in your size," Quinn said. "They look - painted on." Though he turned his head to Ben, he kept his body facing front, knowing the younger man would make a mischievous comment about the current state of his body. Quinn found himself easily inflamed by his lover and almost shocked by how well Ben responded to that reaction, teasing and encouraging him to an excess of passion at the slightest opportunity. Having to hide their feelings from the crew only seemed to increase the excitement, the daily restraint unleashed into nightly ecstasy.

"Don't worry," Ben promised, "they may be tight but they are very easy to peel off."

That statement didn't help Quinn's equilibrium but he was distracted when "Ship ahoy!" was called from one of the men watching in the masts, causing Quinn to turn his attention back to the ocean. He raised his spyglass, scanning the horizon. The ship looked to be a trading vessel but the distance was too great to see its flag.

"Let's head for it and explore, Mr. Larkin," he said.

"Aye, Captain." Ben dutifully trotted off to make the course corrections.

Quinn kept studying the ship, straining to see its flag, almost hoping it was British. They were no longer pirates but privateers and Quinn discovered he preferred assisting his fellow countrymen than attacking and ransacking strangers. A battle and looting a ship would take the rest of the day; saying hello to a British ship would be only a brief stop, allowing plenty of time to see how easily those breeches did peel off. Before Ben, his priorities were his ship, Ani, his crew, and capturing enough prizes to keep his men happy and fed. Ben's arrival was changing his priorities until sometimes Quinn feared the younger man would come to occupy his thoughts to the exclusion of all else.

A half hour later, Quinn could easily tell that there would not be a battle today. Pockmarked by cannon holes in its sides, the ship had already found itself a prey of a superior enemy. One that had plucked it clean, if its height in the ocean was any indication.

"The watch reports the flag is Spanish," Ben said quietly behind him.

"Spanish but already attacked," Quinn said. "And all dead, I fear."

Though he had heard tales of entire crews being massacred, Ben was appalled at the reality of such wanton destruction. "All dead?"

"There's been no movement. If not all dead, then severely wounded."

"That wasn't necessary," Ben said tightly.

"It depends on your definition of necessary, Ben." He turned from contemplation of the ship to look at Ben. His lover's lips were drawn into a tight line, his jaw firmly set, making the cleft appear more pronounced. His eyes glared, anger making their color as turbulent as a storm cloud. "It's the easiest route to ensure that no one interferes with the removal of the cargo."

"You've never taken that route." The tone in Ben's voice insisted that Quinn's example should be followed by all lesser mortals.

"I've never been known for taking the easy route. Though there's been times when I wish I could have," he murmured.

Hawthrone approached. "Cap'n, we should be alongside in a few minutes. Your orders?"

"We'll board, Mr. Hawthrone. See if there are any survivors we can assist. Myself, Jeffries, Dawson, Monty, O'Connell."

"And me," Ben said immediately.

Quinn's gaze was filled with patience. "Very well, Mr. Larkin. You in place of O'Connell. Though I doubt you'll like what you find."

"All the more reason to face the truth, Captain."

Truth could definitely be even more unpleasant than he imagined, Ben decided, as he stepped over the railing and onto the other ship. The battle must have been fierce, lasting until every sailor was killed. Bodies laid sprawled on the deck, the blood from their wounds dried to a bitter scarlet. Quinn was already walking among the corpses, rearranging limbs into a more peaceful semblance of death and murmuring quiet prayers for their souls.

Jeffries poked him in the back, making Ben jump and move away from the railing so the other sailors could climb aboard. "Bad doings, this," Jeffries muttered.

"Yes." The reply was inadequate, but it was all Ben could say.

Quinn glanced at the quartet. "Check below decks. See if there are any survivors hiding. Or anything salvageable."

Ben wanted to volunteer to stay, to help Quinn with his gory task but a moment of weakness had him following the others, relieved that below decks was empty of any people, living or dead. Everyone must have gathered on top for the battle. They searched quickly but only invaluable personal possessions remained. The attackers were thorough in claiming the spoils of their misbegotten victory.

Above, Quinn was still tending to the dead, making the deck appear only slightly less grisly. Nothing could disguise the blood or mask the smell.

"There's nothing left to find," Ben reported.

Unsurprised, Quinn only nodded. "Did you check the Captain's cabin?" When Ben shook his head no, Quinn said, "Get the Captain's books. We'll burn the ship. It's the only burial we can give them."

Ben headed off to the Captain's cabin, followed by Jeffries. He opened the door to discover a sight that, in his mind, was even worse than the violence on the deck. Stepping inside, he tried to focus and make sense of the scene, the dead, the woman on the bed, the man on the floor. The Captain...and his wife. Life may be lonely at sea but few Captains risked traveling with such precious cargo. Horrified at this final callousness, his stomach revolted. He pushed past Jeffries, running back up the stairs and dashing to the railing, emptying the contents of his stomach into the ocean.

The purging wouldn't stop until Ben was shuddering, weak from spasms and tasting only bile. He heard a booted step behind him and a hand clasp his shoulder. "It's bad doings, this," Jeffries said again.

Jeffries, not Quinn, had come to offer him solace. Ben shuddered inside at the horror of the disappointment Quinn must find in him. Too late to rectify his embarrassment, he could only attempt to regain his composure, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and straightening his posture. Jeffries thrust a bottle in his hand. Ben took a hefty swig, rinsing his mouth out with the raw burning rum but no alcohol could erase the horrible vision in his mind.

Amazing how many small chores could be found on a ship, Ben mused, as he neatly re-coiled rope that evening. How many tasks could delay the time when he entered the Captain's cabin? This problem never arose on other nights. Usually, impatience consumed him until the time came that he and Quinn could retire, closing themselves into their own small world, away from the curious eyes of the crew. Tonight Ben dreaded walking through that door, seeing the disappointment that Quinn couldn't hide in his eyes.

In his mother's drawing room, showing disgust at cruelty and barbarianism would be considered acceptable, the only normal response of a civilized man. Indeed, his mother and her friends wouldn't believe that the cruelty he viewed today even existed. But in this world such response was weakness, a shameful reaction exposing his softness. Would Quinn still want him, now that he had disgraced himself?

Straightening up from the pile of rope, Ben squared his shoulders. This lengthy delay only compounded his softness, demonstrating his fear. Time to face Quinn, tolerate his scorn, and handle the end of their relationship with poise and dignity. He would still have his duty to perform, even if his life was barren of love.

He crossed the deck and after a brief knock, entered the cabin. Quinn was sitting in the chair, Ani on his lap. Holding a book in his arms, the youth was reading aloud. He stopped when Ben entered and both sets of blue eyes looked up at him with no apparent ill feeling.

"Time for you to go to bed, Ani," Quinn said easily, giving him a small push off his lap.

Ani rose without protest and placed the book carefully away. With a bob of respect to the two adults and a cheerful, "Night," he disappeared, leaving them alone.

"Captain," Ben said formally.

"Ben," Quinn greeted him with a smile, gesturing for Ben to approach him.

Ben obeyed the gesture though his feet dragged as he crossed the room. Quinn pulled him onto his lap but he did not hold him with the same paternal affection as he had Ani. Instead, the supporting arm cradled Ben to Quinn's larger frame, Ben's legs falling between Quinn's and tangling together with his, Quinn's free hand resting on the front of Ben's breeches and caressing. Ben's head tilted back in surprise at the immediate sexuality, allowing Quinn's lips to claim his.

The kiss was long and tender, Quinn's tongue exploring without restraint, tickling at the roof of his mouth, sliding along his teeth. Though he yearned to experience Quinn's taste, Ben didn't reciprocate, remaining passive, his emotions too confused for his passion to be aroused. Where was the disdain he expected?

Bemused at the lack of response in one normally enthusiastic, Quinn broke away and prompted, "Ben?"

With that same overly formal tone, Ben said again, "Captain."

"Ben, what is wrong?"

"You are not...ashamed of me?"

"Why should I be?" He frowned, attempting to understand Ben's odd concern. His brow unfurled as the reason hit him. "You believe I should think less of you for being sick today?"

Looking away, Ben replied, "I showed an unpardonable weakness in front of the crew."

Quinn gave a gentle sigh, cuddling Ben even closer, pressing his lips into the Lieutenant's soft hair. "Your feelings do you credit, Ben. And the men understood." Quinn stifled the need to confess that he wanted to comfort Ben while on the other ship but had stopped himself, fearing to reveal too much of his own feelings, both to his men and to Ben. Even dropping a hand on his shoulder as Jeffries had might have turned into an enveloping hug, something that could not be allowed in public view. "They may be able to look upon such atrocities with calm but inside they did cry for those people. As did I. And I would not wish to have anyone on my crew who did not share that sentiment."

"But someone did - that."

"Animals, Ben. We may be criminals, but we are not animals." Ben did not see his rueful smile, but he could hear the wistful amusement in his voice as he continued, "I remember the first time I saw battle and emptied my guts over the railing."

With mock humor, Ben said, "You?"

"Captain Halliwell was not pleased."

"Halliwell? There was a naval captain by that name. He only retired a few years ago."

"Did he really? I always thought the old man would die at sea."

Twisting to see Quinn's face, Ben asked, "You were in the Navy?"

"You seem surprised. Did you think I sprang to life as a pirate captain?"

Discussion of their family history and background had been mostly avoided. An occasional tidbit of information slipped forth from time to time. After a furious squall at sea, reminiscences of childhood afternoons spent watching the rain were shared; tales of mischievous antics after Ani frightened them climbing to the top of the main mast. Secretly, each craved to know more about the other, his life, his loves, his dreams, but both feared disturbing their idyllic moments by reinforcing the existence of a world outside the ship.

"No, you're too well trained for that." He dared to ask, "Why did you leave?"

"I never quite fit in. The more conservative officers and sailors considered me a rebel. And then..." Quinn shook his head dismissing ghosts of the past. "Betrayal. Deception. It's an old story."

Ben's desire to listen to the tale was smothered as Quinn stood, bringing Ben with him and smoothly pulling him into an embrace, kissing him passionately, inciting needs of a more basic, physical nature. Ben yielded willingly.

Almost dizzy with happiness, Ben cuddled into Quinn's solid body and tugged at his clothes, freeing his shirt from his trousers so he could explore Quinn's smooth skin. Quinn's hands were equally busy, tearing at Ben's clothes as they kissed until both were panting, disheveled, and aroused.

Quinn stood up, pushing Ben away to allow himself space to insert his heel into the bootjack, peeling the boots off his long legs one by one. Ben stripped his shirt as he watched Quinn disrobe. As soon as Quinn's boots were removed, Ben stalked toward his lover.

Holding out one hand, Quinn silently commanded Ben's advance to stop. "I want to try something new."

"Anything," Ben promised instantly.

Naked, Quinn swung himself into the hammock that still hung in the corner of the cabin for the sake of appearances. He casually tucked his hands behind his head, his erect cock belying the relaxed nonchalance of his attitude. "Ride me."

His expression a combination of lust and disbelief, Ben asked, "In the hammock? Are you mad?"

"You promised me anything," Quinn reminded him, his voice husky with passion.

"Still - " Ben said doubtfully.

Quinn caressed his own cock with one powerful hand. "If you don't want this - "

"I do, I do," was Ben's fervent answer as he scrambled for the jack, removing his own boots, and flinging off the remainder of his apparel, not caring where it landed.

He hesitated again at the side of the hammock and sensing his concern, Quinn said, "You'll have to prepare yourself." Ben didn't move, causing Quinn to command, "Do it. I want to watch you."

Ben swallowed at the erotic order, his adam's apple bobbing slowly up and down. He retrieved the oil from Quinn's toiletries and stood by the hammock, bending enough to slip one finger inside his body.

Almost conversationally, Quinn suggested, "Perhaps you should do four fingers. Yours are slimmer than mine." Reaching out with one hand, he pinched Ben's nipple while his other hand maintained a constant slow pumping of his cock.

Ben's laugh was unsteady, the knowledge of what was going to happen making his cock hard and his voice difficult to control. "I'm not sure I can wait that long." But he obeyed, delaying until he was comfortable with four fingers inserted in his entrance. Quinn didn't speak again, merely watching with his piercing blue eyes, exploring Ben's chest, teasing his nipples until the brown nubs were pointed and eager.

As soon as Quinn's requirement was met, Ben removed his hand and gingerly placed one knee on the hammock. Bracing his hands on Quinn's chest, he swiftly swung onto the swaying cloth, Quinn's hands catching his hips and keeping the fluid motion going until with one long thrust, his cock slid fully into Ben's body.

Ben exhaled shakily. No matter how many times he experienced this feeling, he thought he would love it more and more every time, Quinn's heavy length in his body binding them together. They could never be closer than they were at this moment.

Quinn pushed on the wall with one foot, making the hammock float slowly. His brown hair spread out on the canvas, hanging off the sides, and his muscled body was tense with excitement.

"Quinn!" Ben protested the back and forth motion - it contradicted what he needed.

The smile that answered him was unrepentant and a little bit savage. "Ride me. I said I wanted you to ride."

"Yes but - " Ben stopped talking. He would receive no quarter from Quinn and must accept the current conditions. Hesitantly, he rose up and down, unnerved as the canvas cloth shifted under his weight. He clasped Quinn's hips tighter with his legs, his knees digging into Quinn's side. This time, Quinn would be the one with bruises on his hips. The more secure position allowed Ben to move faster.

His reward was Quinn's hands stroking his cock and caressing his chest. Like the rest of his body, Quinn's fingers were long and solid but their touch was too light, too gentle, the fingertips barely feathering on Ben's skin. The anguished groan that emerged from Ben's chest was heartfelt. He wanted more, craved to be stroked and handled with all of Quinn's power. He dug his fingers into Quinn's broad shoulders, posting up and down as urgently as a rider in the home stretch of a horse race. His long red gold hair, free from its normal tie, waved on his shoulders with each motion of his body.

He could see when Quinn's mood shifted, his need increasing to meet Ben's. The tip of his tongue touched his front teeth as his mouth dropped open, the brilliant blue of his eyes darkening. The lazy touches finally roughened to demanding caresses, boldly seeking out the sensitive spots that made Ben gasp and whimper.

In response, Ben rode Quinn even harder, his speed increasing until the hammock was swaying wildly, the ropes creaking. They came seconds apart, Ben's creamy fluid spurting onto Quinn's torso as he felt Quinn's release deep within him. The hammock swung too violently and they lost control, Ben's grip on Quinn relaxing as he tumbled to the ground, landing on his buttocks with a surprised squeak. Quinn managed to catch the ground with one foot, ending up sitting in the hammock.

Spontaneous laughter bubbled from both their chests, Ben rising to toss his legs and arms around Quinn's damp body, spreading kisses on his face between chuckles.

"I gather you approve of trying new things," Quinn said wryly.

"For you, Quinn, as I said, anything. Anything at all."

Pawing through his meager set of clothes, Ben pulled out a red shirt, holding it up and studying his reflection in the mirror. Deciding that the shirt gave him a suitably piratical appearance, he put it on, tucking the ends into the black breeches and rebuckling the heavy black belt. Quinn entered as he sat down on the bed to tug on the black boots.

"You look splendid."

Feeling grouchy, Ben could take no pleasure in Quinn's approval. "I don't know why you're making me go. I could stay here with you."

Quinn didn't sigh with exasperation, knowing that Ben's complaint was more routine than sincere. Both understood the reason for the separation, even if neither wished to be apart. "Our togetherness has already generated a certain amount of gossip. If you decline the chance to go ashore, the crew will be too suspicious. And a suspicious crew at sea is not wise."

"Very well." Hands on hips, Ben glared at his Captain. "I shall go. But I shall not have a good time."

Drawing Ben into his arms, Quinn kissed his brow. "Neither shall I. The hours shall drag until your return."

"There had better be no truth to these rumors that you have secret mistresses on every island."

"No truth at all, my - Ben. Merely one of the convenient ways I avoid carousing with the men when we reach shore."

They shared a gentle kiss before Quinn heartily slapped Ben on the rear and shoved him toward the door. "Have a good time. Remember you are a lonely man who has been too long at sea." His face darkened as he added, "But don't take the role too much to heart."

"I shall remember," Ben promised, leaving the room with as much enthusiasm as a man going to the gallows rather than a night on the town.

This evening was as dismal as he had assumed, Ben decided. Whether officer in the Royal Navy or privateer, a fun night's entertainment was presumed to consist of drinking, cards, and wenches. The drinking he didn't mind, though his consumption was more restrained than most realized. He sloshed over the edge of the tankard while making exuberant gestures so a casual observer would assume he was getting quite intoxicated. Games of chance he quite enjoyed, always having had an uncanny feel for what cards would be played next and whether someone was bluffing with a worthless hand. Wenches - well, wenches could only be tolerated. He did so with as much grace as possible, stealing an occasional kiss, fondling a slim waist while being served, and trying desperately to generate the appearance of someone who was only biding his time while deciding on the lucky woman for tonight's finale.

A sailor unfamiliar to Ben folded and left the table, his place filled by another man. The newcomer was tall, almost as tall as Quinn, but slimmer in shoulders and hips, not sharing Quinn's powerful build. His hair was black as midnight and his eyes a piercing, pale blue. He wore dove gray breeches tucked into black leather boots, a white shirt and silver vest that matched the silver earring that pierced one ear and the heavy silver chain hanging around his throat. He didn't give his name as he sat down. None of the men had introduced themselves; overt familiarity among pirates was not appreciated.

With the change in players, fresh drinks were ordered and the stakes of the table agreed. Ben took the cards, shuffling the deck as the serving wench poured ale and noting the steadiness of his new opponent. The man had little to drink and would be a better challenge than some of the others, who were losing judgment and made their feelings toward their hands well-known.

The play continued relatively briskly, hampered as some men fumbled with their cards. Ben always had an affinity for games of chance and skill, being both extraordinarily lucky and having an innate ability to keep track of the cards. His general sense of caution prevented him from taking exceptional risks and he bluffed infrequently, preferring to rely on a solid hand.

The silver man seemed to share Ben's luck, though was bolder than he in daring bluffing, perversely enjoying revealing when the other players were tricked with a meager hand, flourishing the inadequate cards on the table with a satisfied smirk.

An unusual coincidence of cards disrupted the peacefulness of the evening leading to the eventual outbreak of hostilities. A straight flush peered up at Ben - the seven, six, five, four and three of hearts. He accordingly bid more but despite his previous caution, the other men played as if they assumed his hand was weak, also raising the stakes. The size of the pot began to worry Ben. He enjoyed the challenge of cards, but had no interest in cleaning out the others' financial resources, particularly when those players would recoup their losses by preying on innocents. But the fever caught him up and he stayed in the game for another round, pushing the stakes higher.

Even as he bid, the perfect hand of hearts reminded him of his unexpressed love for his Captain, calling him to abandon the game and discreetly return to the ship. And Quinn. Images of what they would do together distracted him from the lust of winning, and he resolved to call the game at the next opportunity. Two dropped out during the round, leaving only Ben, the silver man, and a stocky fellow with a gold tooth, wild brown hair and a desperate need for a bath. The third man called before Ben could, grinning as he splayed his hand on the table to display four nines.

He reached for the pot but halted as Ben spread out his own hand. "I'm sorry gentlemen, but the hearts are with me tonight."

The gold tooth fellow gaped, his mouth opening wide as he stared at Ben's cards. Ben started to reach for the pot but was stopped by silver man. "The hearts may be with you, but the Queen of spades is with me," he said as he revealed a perfect royal flush, the Ace, King, Queen, Jack and ten of spades.

Ben guessed his face showed the same disbelief as gold tooth but he shrugged with resignation. His losses were minor since his initial stake had not been high but the size of the pot gave him a legitimate excuse to leave. "My bad luck, then. Perhaps I shall be lucky in love." The words were truer than the others realized, since he was quite pleased at the thought of being lucky with Quinn rather than trapped in this noisy environment. He began to rise, glancing around to pretend that he sought one of the willing women even though he wished only to plot his course toward the door.

"NO!" Gold tooth slammed his hands on top of the pot. "I don't believe this. Three perfect hands in one game?" He accused silver man with his eyes, since it had been his turn to deal.

"Do you call me a cheat, sir?"

The other players were muttering dark words and heads throughout the room were turning, trying to see the cause of gold tooth's yell. Ben attempted to defuse the tenseness before it could escalate into unpleasantness. "Now gentlemen, cards are a chancy proposition. Lady luck simply bestowed more than her normal good graces on a single round. It does happen."

Gold tooth didn't appreciate Ben's intervention. "Are you in this with him? Was that the plan? One of you would win no matter what?"

The accusation aggravated Ben's pride but he clenched his teeth and spoke in an even tone, "I do not cheat, sir, and I'm sure this man did not. You were not as fortunate as you thought. Let this matter drop."

"And lose all my money to a cheat!"

Any last chance to calm the waters was ruined when silver man drawled, "With such bad playing as you exhibit, I'm surprised you didn't lose all your money in the first hand."

Gold tooth swung at the silver man, the table overturning as he leaped out of his chair, cards and money scattering as the bar erupted into an unrestrained fracas. Two of the other players jumped at Ben, presumably believing gold tooth's charge of treachery. He ducked one, slammed his fist into the other, and swirled back to hit the first. Gold tooth and silver man were pounding on each other, gold tooth's brutality losing to silver man's speedy strikes, while one of the bar maids was crawling on the floor, collecting the money and stuffing it into her bodice. Patrons were fighting throughout the room as the bartender calmly smashed an empty liquor bottle on the heads on any who tried to use the fight as a distraction to grab free drinks.

Sighing in exasperation at the melee, Ben headed toward the door, dodging the enthusiastic combatants. The air reeked with aggression, cheap wine, rum, and the sound of blows impacting, glasses breaking, and vile curses. He had tried to stop this fight but taking on everyone would be impossible. At least he no longer had to pretend that he wasn't leaving. No one would bother questioning his activities in this fracas. It took several more blows and a few random kicks to total strangers before he was free, standing outside, breathing in the fresh tropical air.

The door swung open, slamming against the wall, and Ben was surprised to see silver man join him. "Sir," he said tightly.

"You don't enjoy the fighting? You left so quickly," silver man mocked.

"Brawling in public does not tempt me, sir. But I am surprised that you left. I believed you would enjoy participating in the results of your provocation."

Still with that lazy mocking tone, he answered, "Men need a reason to fight, my young Lieutenant Larkin. I merely provided what they had been seeking. I was doing them a favor."

Ben sensed he was gaping again and quickly gathered his composure, wishing to appear seasoned and mature in the face of such cynicism. "I do not believe we've been introduced, sir. I fear you have the advantage of me."

"Your reputation has preceded you. Everyone has heard of Quinn's reversion to legality and his pet lieutenant. And I am Xanatos. Captain Xanatos. I recognized you from your description. We need to talk."

He wanted to protest the term 'pet lieutenant' but feared he would only look juvenile by responding to the taunt. Ignoring it, he replied, "May I ask on what you wished to converse?"

"My crew is mainly English. I understand you are offering the chance to turn to privateering for English ships. Your offer is tempting."

"I had heard you described as Greek." The description was obviously false, given the man's superb English with its upper class accent, but Ben wanted to gather more information on him. This man set his teeth on edge, distaste enhancing Ben's normal curiosity.

"My name," Xanatos said airily. "People make false assumptions. I was born and raised in our mother country and I am interested in being able to return. But I wish to make sure I understand the terms of the agreement."

Preferring not to converse while standing in the dimly lit street, Ben suggested, "Very well. Do you wish to come to the Redemption? We can discuss it there." On the ship, Quinn could be present at the conversation. Ben wished his assessment of this man's sincerity.

"I need time to deal with those crew members who are not English. Do you know the area of sea called the serpent's tail?"

"Yes. The waters are reputed to be treacherous."

"They are. But it is a good place to find ripe pickings. My ship will be there in three days."

Benjamin heard his name called and jerked toward the sound. With the limited light coming from the bar, he couldn't see who was approaching but thought the voice was his Captain's. "Quinn?"

"Yes," Quinn replied, coming closer until he was visible. He was wearing his normal white breeches tucked into black boots, but his white shirt was hanging loosely rather than tucked neatly into his breeches, looking as if he'd pulled his clothes back on hastily. His sword belt hung around his trim hips and his vest and jacket were missing, not necessary in the warm air.

Ben turned back to Xanatos, to finish their conversation, but the other man was gone. Large hands settled on his shoulders as he peered into the darkness.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, of course."

"I had a feeling - " Quinn stopped, not wishing to confess the unease he suffered, waiting for Ben's return. "Why aren't you in the bar?"

Turning to face Quinn, Ben replied, "I was talking to Captain Xanatos. There is a brawl happening in the bar." The noise was still spilling out, fists hitting flesh, an occasional slap from an indignant barmaid, a glass smashing, chairs being broken.

Quinn did not appear upset at the information as his hands found Ben's hips. "Most of the men enjoy a good fight."

His voice short and clipped with distaste, Ben replied, "I may have been raised in a family of limited means, but my mother had pretensions to society. She taught me to be civilized."

Stepping closer, Quinn smiled at Ben's slight air of snobbery. The younger man was almost good-natured to a fault, but apparently even he had his limits. "Our upbringing was similar in that respect. My mother also stressed the need to be a gentleman." He took Ben's lips, ending further conversation, and the Lieutenant happily leaned into Quinn's big, warm body, purring deep in his throat and flattening his hands on Quinn's muscled back.

A body thudding against the door broke them apart. "We should finish this on the ship, Captain. We risk exposure here if anyone walks out."

"Yes," Quinn agreed, dropping one arm on Ben's shoulders. "Let's go home."

Three days later, they sailed into the serpent's tail, Ben and Ani leaning over the railing, staring at the choppy waves. "They say it's beautiful, Ani. That at the right time of month, blue and green swirls together, forming the tail of a majestic sea serpent. And sometimes the water rises in spouts, as if the serpent is striking the ocean."

Ani was unimpressed by Ben's description. "It looks like ocean to me, sir. Blue ocean."

"Yes, it is a little disappointing, isn't it?" He straightened as Quinn stopped next to them. "Have you seen it, Captain?"

"The tail? Yes, but only rarely. It is beautiful."

The boy gave Quinn a skeptical look, trying to decide if he was telling tall tales. Quinn's face was calm, his voice level. Deciding Quinn wasn't fooling, Ani leaned back over. "I wish I could see it, sir."

"If it's meant to be, you will, Ani." Quinn ruffled his short brown hair. "You will." He raised his spyglass to his eyes, scanning the horizon. "No sign yet of the Destroyer."

"He only said three days, Captain. He did not give an exact hour." v "Yes, I know. But - yes, I believe his ship has just come over the horizon. He is prompt." Quinn did not sound as if he considered promptness a virtue in this instance.

Ben discreetly jerked his head and they walked slightly away from Ani. The youth paid no attention, torn between watching the arriving ship and hanging over the railing to see the tail. "You are worried."

Quinn handed the spyglass to Ben, letting him look through the lens to see the approaching ship. "I have heard that Xanatos is a ruthless captain, inclined to wanton killing. I must admit I am surprised to hear of his interest in privateering. From what I understand, he would not want to limit his choice of victims."

"I admit, I was not impressed with his actions at the bar. He deliberately flaunted his winning and provoked that fight. But my duty is clear and if he is interested in fighting for the British crown, I must pursue the possibility."

"I agree." Quinn didn't have to add that if he hadn't agreed, they would not be here. "But I have taken the precaution of warning the men to stay alert."

They waited together with minimal conversation, standing in the prow of the Redemption, watching as the Destroyer grew steadily larger, examining it at regular intervals with the spyglass. Quinn hoped to catch a glimpse of Captain Xanatos, to see the man they would be meeting, but he remained elusive, a fact that did not ease Quinn's discomfort.

The Destroyer approached quickly, its crew not adjusting the sails to slow it. The rapid advance contributed to Quinn's worry. It was possible that the sailors were merely misjudging the distance or the time needed to stop, though inefficient pirates usually did not last long before being captured or causing their own destruction by underestimating the power of the ocean.

The Destroyer was too close when Quinn finally saw what he feared - men crouched low by the cannons, attempting to hide from view. He yanked roughly at Ben dragging him away from the prow, yelling at his crew to veer away. The order helped minimize the destruction but it was too late to avoid all damage as the Destroyer's cannons roared, lead balls smashing into the Redemption's side. Thanks to Quinn's caution, the Redemption's cannons fired without hesitation as the Destroyer sailed past, inflicting injury on the ship and some of the crew.

Quinn cursed as the Destroyer finished sliding by, glaring at Captain Xanatos waving from the stern. "Xander!"

Ben asked "Xander?" but Quinn wasn't interested in discussion, snapping orders at the crew. The men instantly leaped to adjust sails and reload cannons as the Redemption tacked around to chase the Destroyer. Ben joined the others in following orders, but their efforts were in vain. The Destroyer was riding higher in the waters, her hold not burdened with cargo, and she caught a good wind, staying beyond the reach of the Redemption, a distance that gradually widened throughout the day as Quinn's temper grew noticeably shorter.

Quinn's growling impatience mounted at the evening fell. The men were similarly infected, knowing that the Destroyer would be lost in the darkness, and surly moods abounded as the crew ate dinner. Though the damage to the ship was minimal, their collective pride was wounded by the hit and run attack. Only Ani and Ben were unaffected; Ani merely confused more than frustrated and Ben's curiosity over Quinn's response winning over his anger at Xanatos. The possibility that Xanatos was the key to unlock Quinn's past fascinated Ben.

In their cabin that night, Ben faced Quinn, demanding, "Tell me. Tell me about Xanatos. I deserve to know." He sensed important secrets and craved the truth.

Quinn sighed heavily and settled in a chair, staring at the pointed toe of his boot. "Not Xanatos. Xander. Xander Fairchild. His father was a professor who specialized in the Greeks; I suppose that was where he got the name. I was a member of the Royal Navy, steadily working my way up the ranks. I wanted nothing more than my own ship and to serve my country."

Ben stood silently, letting Quinn recite his tale. The Captain was obviously pained by the words he must speak, the anger intermingled with sadness.

"Then Xander was assigned to my ship. Beautiful, talented, courageous. Young but never naïve. He seemed to have a great future in front of him, as did I. I was second in command already, ready to take the next captaincy available. I took him under my wing and showed him the ropes, imparting my knowledge to him. I confess, I was attracted to him. His teasing manner led me to believe he felt the same.

"It was late one night in my cabin. We'd been talking when I finally took the risk. I leaned over and kissed him. Desperately, hungrily. He was appalled and horrified. Obviously, the attraction I thought had grown between us was only on my side."

'Or only pretended by Xander to gain his own advancement,' Ben thought maliciously. After the poker demonstration, he had little doubt that Xander would have masqueraded anything to achieve his own goals. Masqueraded but failed to deliver.

"I apologized profusely and we talked a long time. I thought he understood and forgave me. Things continued normally for several weeks but I was always careful not to take any action that he might misconstrue as pursuing my unwelcome attentions.

"Then on shore leave...there was a brothel the officers all visited. I felt constrained to attend, though I had little interest in wenching. The first time there, I met a sympathetic Scandinavian woman. She had a young son and had been abandoned by his father. She was more refined than the other women, both in appearance and manner, and not considered as desirable as the more voluptuous women, but I appreciated her conversation.

"She spent her spare time at an orphanage for poor children, helping the unfortunate, and I found myself spending time there with her, entertaining the children and giving them lessons, much as I do now with Ani. I did not realize that my good deeds would leave me vulnerable.

"I had been at the orphanage in the morning, then spent the afternoon wandering, enjoying the rare occasion for solitude. One of the children - a young boy - was violated. I was accused and unable to defend myself with an alibi. Xander formally accused me, informing the Captain and the crew of the time I had kissed him. While I was well-liked, my inclinations worked against me. Every occasion I passed on a woman's charms was thrown in my face. Gossip spread, the common sailors whispering behind my back. More and more men spoke against me, until my name was blackened beyond repair."

Ben dropped to his knees on the wooden floor between Quinn's spread thighs. "Anyone who knows you would know you would never harm a child. Some may have talked about your predilections out of curiosity or jealousy; Xander must have coerced the others to tell such absolute lies."

Quinn rested one hand on Ben's head, his fingers curling into the silky strands of red-gold hair. "You are so trusting," he murmured.

"I may be naïve in some things, Quinn, but not in my evaluation of a man's character." Ben buried his head against Quinn's sturdy thigh, nuzzling the firm muscles beneath woolen breeches.

"I wish that my former captain had your faith. I was imprisoned in a filthy goal to await my trial or transfer to England. From the information provided by those few men who were willing to visit me, I had little chance to clear my name. You are correct, Xander was behind the rumors, and he was spreading his lies far and wide. With his appearance of innocence and smooth tongue, his word was accepted as the gospel truth, especially since I could not deny that I had kissed him."

"So what happened?" Ben asked. "How did you escape?" He was running one finger along the top of Quinn's left boot, pressing on his thigh, feeling the soft leather rub on his finger.

"Shmi. She distracted the night guard by means I can only guess. She released me and told me that the pirate Rogers was in the port. I fled to his ship. He was willing to accept me. He hated the English navy and was delighted at having a renegade to antagonize them. When he was killed in battle one day, I became captain of his ship."

"You never tried to return home?" Ben asked, knowing the answer but curious for the reasoning.

"No," Quinn said heavily, "I sought word when I could and discovered my name too blackened. My family publicly renounced me. None of my friends stood by me."

Ben was using his whole palm now, brushing along Quinn's thigh and the top of his boot. "To have suffered such repudiation - and you were too strong to give in."

"I am a survivor." Quinn shifted uncomfortably, feeling the tingling effects of having his young lover curled between his legs, fondling him. Not really expecting an affirmative answer, he asked bemusedly, "Do you like my boots?"

"I love your boots," Ben murmured. "Don't you know how sexy you are in them?"

Quinn shook his head, amazed. "Your honesty devastates me."

"I am always honest. Well," he smiled, his eyes lighting with mischief, "mostly honest. I never told my former Captain why I followed your escapades so avidly."

"Former Captain?"

"Of course. You are my Captain now."

That simple statement went straight to Quinn's cock, a fact immediately apparent to Ben when he rubbed the side of his face on the front of Quinn's breeches. "Stand up and shut your eyes," Quinn said abruptly. "I want to give you something."

"Are you sure you want me to stand?" Ben teased, brushing his nose on Quinn's cock. "You can give it to me very well here."

"Damn," he cursed sharply. "Yes, stand up. Now."

Ben obeyed, stepping a few feet away, obediently shutting his eyes and theatrically covering them with his hands. He heard rustling noises that he suspected were the sound of clothes being removed.

"You may open them now."

Glancing around, he saw Quinn. The pirate was standing, bent over the table. He was naked except for those fantasy-inducing black boots, the supple leather molded to his calves and lower thighs. The skin of his upper thighs and buttocks was smoothly pale; his back and arms more golden. Pulled taut from the position, the muscles of his buttocks were firm and inviting, calling Ben to take Quinn as he had once been claimed.

"God's blood!" Ben grabbed his cock hard, trying to stop his immediate release, instinctively turning away from the sight.

"Ben?" Quinn's tone sounded worried. "Is something wrong?"

"I - oh God!" He squeezed his cock desperately, not pumping but deliberately hurting. This was simply too good to waste on an unplanned eruption.

Strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him back against a broad chest. "Ben, what's wrong?" Quinn's hand covered Ben's, the caress causing Ben's fingers to relax and loosely jerk.

"Ohhhh," Ben moaned as their hands moved in unison. Surrounded by Quinn's power and secure in his arms, he yielded to the ecstasy of their joined hands, his nose filled with the scents of ocean breezes, gunpowder, and Quinn's musky odor, his eyes blank and unfocused. He shuddered and moaned as he came with an explosive rush.

"Damn," he lamented. "I didn't wish my release that way."

Obviously amused, Quinn said, "We can try again. I've seen you have little problem in meeting the challenge a second time."

Accusingly, Ben said, "I'm glad you find this funny."

"I find this delightful. Utterly delightful. No one has ever found me quite that exciting."

As he turned into Quinn's embrace, Ben realized he'd never seen the pirate so incredibly happy and relaxed, even in their most languorous moments after completion. It wasn't merely the physical release but an emotional reaction.

When Ben shook his head in confusion, Quinn repeated, "Your honesty devastates me." Holding Ben close, he kissed his lips tenderly. "My few previous relationships have been too fraught with tension, with the concern of discovery. Your honesty both frees and empowers me in a way I've never experienced."

"Empowers you?" Rising on his toes and standing so close air could not pass between their bodies, Ben rested his cheek on Quinn's, whispering in his ear, "To be totally honest, more than the table, do you know what I'd really like my empowered pirate lover to do?" At Quinn's rumbling negative, Ben added, "I'd like him to push me onto the bed and fuck me with those boots on."

Quinn froze for just a moment before grabbing the top of Ben's shirt and tearing the thin cotton from his chest. Ben only laughed with enthusiastic appreciation as Quinn shredded the rest of the shirt. Placing his large hands on Ben's chest, he pushed him the short distance of the cabin and onto the bed. Ben fell back, raising his legs one at a time so Quinn might strip his boots then his breeches from his body.

"Turn over and spread your legs. Your Captain needs to prepare you to be fucked." Quinn's words were blunt and coarse, exciting Ben even more. He rolled into position, burying his face in the pillow to stifle the screams he was sure he would not be able to prevent. Those powerful legs settled between his own, the leather sliding against his skin as an oiled finger slipped into his body. "I'm going to claim you as you've never been claimed."

Raising his face for a moment, Ben only whispered, "Yes, oh yes please" and waited to be made complete.

Ben was gone when Quinn woke, missing the slim figure cradled in his arms. He dressed and went to find him, locating him at Quinn's favorite spot in the prow.

"Lieutenant."

"Captain." Though still dark, dawn was subtly lightening the sky. Quinn wondered what Ben thought to see as he gazed into the distance.

"The cook will be making breakfast. You should eat."

"I'm not hungry. I have a bad feeling about today and what will come."

While not a superstitious man, Quinn was a sailor, and trusted a sailor's instincts. "About Xander? Do you think we will catch up to him today?" Last night, Quinn was furious at his former crewman, desperate to capture him. Ben's love had burned the anger from him, leaving only the calm need to ensure that Xander could not harm Ben, Ani, or his ship.

"He's out there. Waiting. Hating you."

Gruffly, Quinn said, "He can wait until after breakfast. You need sustenance."

The Lieutenant nodded to indicate his obedience with the order. "Yes, Captain."

Ben had already moved away several steps when Quinn called him back. "I want to thank you," he said softly, "for last night."

"You owe me nothing for last night. You opened yourself to me. You cannot know what it means to me that you honor me with your trust."

"And I do not know if I can express how much it means to me, that you listened. You care and you believe in me, when my own family and friends did not. You offer me release and the comfort of your body, and a passion that is unequaled."

They both spoke quietly, conscious of the crew members moving around the deck, but both experienced frustration at being unable to touch as they spoke. "Tonight," Ben said, "Tonight you may attempt to describe what I mean to you." His grin flashed as he suggested, "And I would be happy - nay delighted - to prove that the passion we have shared so far can be surpassed even more."

"Yes, tonight we shall talk more. But I wanted you to know how I felt today." Though his voice was gentle, the underlying passion in his tone worried Ben, as if Quinn somehow sensed they would not have an opportunity to talk tonight. He wanted to reassure Quinn, to ease the older man's fears, but his own unease prevented that dishonesty.

And then the distant sound of cannonballs ended the conversation. As the crew woke and rushed to their posts, Ben could only hope the alarm shared by Quinn and he would be as unjustified as their passion was true.

The Destroyer was pummeling a heavily laden Dutch trader when the sky lightened enough for the members of the Redemption to see the cause of the explosions and noise. Quinn never hesitated, calling for the cannons to be primed and tacking toward the Destroyer. Xanatos split his crew, a third of them still concentrating on the weaker Dutch forces while the majority scrambled to confront the Redemption.

Cannons fired as the Destroyer sailed close, both ships scoring hits on the other. Grappling hooks were tossed but not all caught, leaving only three ropes binding the two ships. In the rush to fight further, attempts to tie the two ships were ignored as sailors leaped the gap, the deck of each ship becoming a confused melee of pirates and privateers.

Even as he knew the move might be reckless, Ben joined those leaping to the other ship, determined to hunt down Xanatos. The pirate would pay for the pain he'd inflicted on his lover. Battling a man of Quinn's size but not his skill, Ben heard a yell that chilled his soul, for it was not merely one of the rough sailors turned unexpected friend screaming in pain, but Ani shouting out his fear and rage. A fast decisive stroke ended the battle, cleaving the front of the pirate open. He searched for the boy and eventually found him, Xanatos gripping one arm and dragging him below decks. Of course, Xanatos would take his best chance to wound Quinn, and harming his ward would be devastating. Ben ducked and weaved through the crowd, avoiding any attempt to engage him in combat.

His purpose firm, he reached Xanatos, breaking his hold on Ani with a solid blow to his forearm. "Run Ani, get back to the ship!"

Xanatos faced him, smiling unpleasantly, shaking the pain from his arm. They both saluted, a mockery of civilized manners, before slashing each attacking and trying to force the other into a defensive posture.

Xanatos was as good as Ben had predicted. Though Quinn was the superior type of officer who would invest time and energy in all the men under his command, he would be drawn to a skill and power equal his own. Quinn might protect the weak and helpless, but he would love the strong and challenging. But Ben was also an excellent fighter and supremely conscious that the only ante in this fight was his life.

The outcome of the major part of the battle was unknown to Ben. He couldn't divide his concentration as they parried, lunged, and feinted, each seeking the advantage. Sweat was forming on his brow, darkening his shirt under the armpits, and running in a thin line down his back.

Though still early, the sun was beating harshly on Ben's head, and he began to wish he had followed Quinn's order to eat. His stomach rumbled as he twisted and turned, reminding him of the energy he was expending as he evaded Xanatos' attacks and struck back.

A yell came from above - one of Xanatos' men had remained in the eagle's nest. "Ship ahoy!"

Xanatos and Ben paused for a second to glimpse the new arrival. The sight of an English naval ship bearing down on them heartened Ben. Xanatos' men may be fierce, but they no chance against the combined forces of two warships and the Dutch trader. But as quickly as Ben celebrated the presence of his naval compatriots, it made him recognize the precariousness of his current position.

Even as he slashed at Ben, Xanatos was yelling at his men to cut the grappling ropes and for all of them to retreat to their ship. Quinn was shouting orders on the Redemption, but Ben could not distinguish them clearly over the din of swords and pistols. If Xanatos succeeded in separating the two ships, Ben would be trapped aboard the Destroyer. The danger was acute, as Ben doubted Xanatos was a gracious host. If stranded, his only means of safety would be to leap in the ocean and wait for the Redemption to rescue him. Switching to a purely defensive style, Ben backed away from Xanatos toward the security of his ship. The hope of killing or capturing Xanatos was discarded. The pirate captain would have to face justice some other day.

A sneer crossed Xanatos' face and Ben knew the other sailor guessed his strategy. He shuffled backwards as quickly as he dared across the deck, but a peculiar jerk of Xanatos' head and itching feeling in the back of his own neck had Ben abandoning his defense and turning to dash to safety.

The circle of pirates waiting for his escape attempt told him he was too late.

Oh, he didn't like this, Ben thought muzzily. He didn't like this at all. He'd woken up once before, tied up in a pirate's cabin. At least then it had been a pirate who fascinated Ben with his power and strength. Xanatos was not on Ben's list of people to get to know better.

His bonds were well tied, proving that Xanatos was a capable sailor. Ben's wait was short as Xanatos stepped into the room, placing his hands on his hips and scowling down at Ben. "So Quinn's little protégé has come for a visit," he mocked.

"Xanatos," Ben said tersely. "I'm an officer in the Royal Navy. You'll get into trouble for this kidnapping. Release me immediately."

Xanatos laughed. "I'm a pirate, Ben. I hardly fear the Royal Navy."

Feeling a bit ridiculous uttering this threat, Ben said, "Quinn will come for me."

Gripping Ben's hair by his ponytail, Xanatos forced his head back. "Quinn lost you in the first place. He won't find it easy to rescue his little pet," he sneered.

With a shock, Ben realized the root of Xanatos' bitterness. It reverberated in Xanatos' sneer, the envy and loss hidden by a mask of disdain. "You wanted him," he said amazed. "You still want him."

"Want him?" Xanatos laughed, yanking harder at Ben's hair. "Want that unnatural abomination?"

"You did. You do," said Ben with dazed comprehension. "You wanted him...and you didn't have the nerve to love him."

Releasing Ben's hair, Xanatos slapped him with the back of his hand. "Don't say such filthy things."

"Filthy things? Less filthy than what you did to frame him."

"So you believe his lies, do you? You're a fool."

"Less of a fool than you. I wanted him and I had the courage to love him." Ben tasted blood in his mouth as Xanatos slapped him again but goaded by the knowledge that Quinn desired Xanatos first, he continued crudely, "The very first night I met him, do you know what I did? I sucked him. I sucked his big, fat cock. His seed is the best thing I've ever tasted."

This time the backhand was forceful enough to knock him over, his breath exhaling at he landed heavily on the floor. He yanked on the bonds but they didn't loosen. Xanatos kneeled down, his pale blue eyes maddened as they fixed on Ben's face. "You're disgusting. Filthy, disgusting."

"I love him. And I've had him. I'm the only man who's ever fucked him and I'm the only one who ever will. It eats at you, doesn't it?" The taunting may be mad, but Ben was placing his hope on disrupting Xanatos' control.

Slamming the door open, Xanatos yelled, "Jake! Get in here." A pirate soon appeared, his face marred by a scar down one cheek. "Help me take him to the top." They moved on Ben, untying the ropes and pulling him out of the chair. Taking advantage of their lack of coordination, Ben held his hands together and smashed his forearms into Xanatos' stomach. Xanatos staggered away, clutching his stomach, but Jake punched Ben in the face, followed swiftly by another blow to his torso. Ben reeled, raising his fist to hit Jake, but fell as Xanatos punched him in the lower back. The blows from both men rained down until he stopped fighting, huddling in a lump on the floor.

Grabbing him by his arms, they raised him from the ground and dragged him out the door. The blood was trickling into his mouth as he struggled to breathe. Xanatos and Jake carried him directly to the center mast, where Xanatos tied him to the pole, the ropes almost cutting off his circulation.

Standing behind Ben, Xanatos whispered, "You'll pay. You'll pay for being his toy. For spreading your ass and letting him fuck you."

Cursing himself for provoking Xanatos but hating the other man too much to stop, Ben spat, "Face the truth, Xanatos. You only want me to pay because you were too much of a coward for him. He loves me now, not you. Never you again."

"Let's see if he still loves you when you're scarred."

Xanatos walked away and Ben heard the sound of a whip whistling through the air. Then the whip hit his back, shredding a line in his shirt and his back. Unprepared, he screamed and jerked, but it was too late to avoid the pain.

Despite all logic and rational thought, Ben held onto hope. The ocean was big, too monstrously large, its choppy expanse revealing no tracks to follow. There was little reason to believe that Quinn would find him. As the hours passed and he sagged in pain against the mast, he believed he would be rescued. His back was afire from the whip's blows, his jaw in agony from clenching his teeth so hard he would not scream. But he had borne it. Borne it and not given Xanatos the satisfaction of crying or begging him to stop. Because Quinn would save him.

Only as land approached did he begin to doubt that rescue would be in time. Surely Xanatos would not sail into port with a bound prisoner on deck. Would he be dumped overboard to drown or hustled below decks, hidden away? As he gingerly craned his neck to locate the Captain and determine his intentions, he heard "Ship ahoy!" surely the sweetest sound in the world next to Quinn moaning in passion, as that call signaled the approach of the Redemption.

Without instruction, the pirate crew was moving around him, all hands loading cannons and pistols, sharpening their blades, wiping out the red stains evidencing past violence.

A voice behind him asked if Ben should be taken below, and Xanatos' answered chilled the Lieutenant. "No. I want Quinn to see. I want him to know what has happened to his Lieutenant."

An "Aye, Captain" and the other sailor moved away, but Xanatos was already bellowing orders to angle away from the island. The exchange gave Ben new strength. He tugged at the bonds around his wrists, using the rope to help him stand tall. Quinn would not see him slumped over in pain.

The attack was immediate, the Redemption barreling down on the Destroyer, cannons firing with deadly accuracy as soon as they were close enough to make a mark. He strained against the ropes, turning to watch as the Redemption sailed passed. The Destroyer fired back, and Ben winced to see the damage inflicted. But the Redemption was tacking around, a tighter turn than Ben thought the ship could make, coming back on the other side of the Destroyer. Cannons were reloaded during the maneuver and fired again, hitting the Destroyer on the other side.

A group of four men swung over from the Redemption, and Ben realized with a rush of relief and fear that they were his rescue squad. Jeffries, Dawson, Nicholas and Walters, four of Quinn's biggest and most ruthless men, hacking savagely and heading toward him. Quinn was trying to ensure his safety during the battle. The odds against his rescuers were overwhelming and Ben found himself fervently praying, for their safety as much as his own, for he had come to regard these men as friends. The Redemption continued to pound at the Destroyer, Quinn obviously intending that this would be her last battleground.

The echoing bellow of cannons came from the other side. Confused, Ben looked back to see the British naval ship joining the fray. The Destroyer was caught between the ships and the island, unable to escape, a rat in a neat triangle trap. The sudden motion was too much and pain tore through his body. A strangled whimper emerged from his lips and he leaned his forehead on the mast. The taste of bile was in his mouth, but he swallowed, determinedly keeping it down. He closed his eyes to isolate himself from the battle, concentrating on resting. If his rescue squad reached him, he would need all his strength to move.

Cold hard steel rested on his neck. Ben didn't breathe, fearing that the smallest movement would cause the blade to slice open his neck. He opened his eyes, not surprised to see Xander standing in front of him.

"QUINN!"

Astonishingly, the noise died, everyone pausing in their places, swords and pistols still held tightly. "QUINN!" Xander called again. "You and me, Quinn. Just you and me."

"You and me, Xander," Quinn agreed from the deck of the Redemption. He grabbed a line, sailing across to the Destroyer. "I win, your crew surrenders. You win, you own my ship. And my life."

"Your men?"

Talking as he walked across the deck, Quinn said, "Must be allowed to go free to the Excalibur. They are privateers, not pirates. There is no justice for them to face."

"They may join me if they wish."

"They will not wish." Quinn stopped behind and slightly to the right of Xanatos, in Ben's line of sight. "Do we have a deal?"

"We have a deal." Their words had been loud, projected to be heard, but now Xanatos' voice dropped to a whisper, "I shall kill you, Quinn, and your whore. You destroyed my life. I thought they believed me, but I could see it grow in their eyes, the distrust, the suspicion. They wondered at our friendship. You foulness tainted me, followed me, never let me go."

Quinn made no effort to lower his voice. "And what did you do that encouraged the suspicion? What friends did you stab in the back, Xander? What falsehoods did you tell about innocent men?" He saluted, waiting only a brief second for Xander's return salute before lunging forward with a wicked slash at his former comrade. The stakes were high, Ben's life, his ship, the livelihood of his men; the highest Quinn had ever gambled. This was a battle he intended to win. A loss would be intolerable.

Xander parried the blow, returning with a vicious lunge of his own. Quinn danced back, staying light on his feet, extremely conscious that he faced an equal opponent. As shipmates, the two had fought often for practice. Xander was almost as tall as he, his reach as long. Quinn was more muscular and powerful, which meant that Xander would attempt to use his quickness to its utmost advantage.

Absolute silence reigned as the two fought, the other sailors according their respect to the skill displayed. Skill and determination, as each pressed his attack, trying to force the other into a defensive posture. Xander was wearing black and silver again, his hair tied back into a tail. Quinn was in white breeches and shirt, with black boots, his red jacket discarded back on the Redemption.

Their blades clashed, and they pushed against each other, trying to force the other man to drop his blade through sheer brute power. A stinging sensation cut at his abdomen, causing Quinn to leap back, one hand feeling the cut in his shirt and the thin trace of blood welling from his skin. Xander had a knife in his left hand, having taken advantage of their close position to secretly draw the weapon from its hiding place.

"Still fighting fairly, I see," he said, circling to his right toward Jeffries, holding out his hand, knowing the sailor would understand the message.

"Catamite," was Xander's hissed response as Jeffries slapped a knife into Quinn's free hand.

The battle turned even more deadly as each man had two weapons to kill. Xander was the next to feel the sharp sting of a knife slicing along vulnerable skin, his blood dripping from his forearm to the deck, mingling with Quinn's. Parry, lunge, slash, riposte, feint, attempt to kill before being killed.

The Captain of the British ship forced his way through the ring of spectators, his expression disbelieving. "Xander, Quinn, stop this."

Without a break in his attack, Quinn ordered, "Stay out of this, Andrew."

Not distracted from his defense, Xander laughed, "Yes, stay out of it, Andrew. You had your chance long ago to help Quinn."

Ben began to despair that the battle would ever end, that each would fight until they collapsed together, physically exhausted and unable to move. Numerous cuts marred each man's skin, their clothes stained with blood, the sweat dripping from their pores, hair matted to their foreheads, both breathing heavily. He wanted to scream to stop it, to surrender willingly to Xander if his lover could go free, fearing that youth would triumph in this endurance contest. Better to die himself than to see Quinn's lifeless body sprawled at his feet.

The end shocked all with its abruptness. Xander slipped on a patch of blood, his foot sliding for one brief moment as he struggled to find his balance. Quinn was quick to take advantage of the lapse, Xander's knife flying as Quinn's knife raked his hand, Quinn's sword finally managing to slip under Xander's guard, piercing his abdomen until it was buried to the hilt, the crimson-stained length of steel emerging from Xander's back.

Jeffries sliced his bonds, but Quinn was there to catch him as he sagged. "What took you so long?" he asked weakly.

A suspicious glimmer that might have been tears glinted in Quinn's eyes. "I know Xander's strategy. I wanted him to go to ground, where we could catch him. We had to wait. I am so sorry."

He started to reassure Quinn, to comfort him and give him absolution for the delay, but the pain proved too much.

Ben was only hazily aware of his surroundings, floating in and out of consciousness, the whip marks on his back shooting streaks of agony in every limb any time he tried to shift his body.

He felt fingers gently stroking his hair and recognizing Quinn's touch, tried to concentrate, the tenderness holding the pain temporarily at bay.

"You really love him," an unfamiliar voice said in surprise.

"What I feel doesn't matter," was Quinn's abrupt response. "What concerns me is that Pilford knows Ben is the innocent in this situation."

"Pilford's a decent man. He judges his crew on their performance of their duties."

"Ben has always performed his duties in an exemplary fashion. Every member of my crew will attest to that."

The anonymous voice said neutrally, "There are some who would say a man who loves another is an abomination against God and not fit to represent our country."

"Can God consider any love an abomination?" Quinn asked swiftly. "No, Andrew - don't bother. I shouldn't have asked that question. I can only hope no one will realize anything untoward has happened here. And if they do, blacken my reputation. It has enough stains that another blot will hardly be noticeable."

"You might be able to clean your reputation, now that Xander is revealed as a liar, thief, and murderer."

"But he's dead and cannot recant his lies. Please - I am not concerned for myself. But for the sake of any friendship you might have once felt for me, please protect Ben. He does not deserve to suffer for my actions."

The unmistakable sadness in his voice made Ben try to move. He wanted to both comfort Quinn and protest against such nobility of spirit. Quinn should not shoulder all blame for their relationship. Ben had met his advances eagerly and without coercion, and was willing to testify proudly to that fact. His conscience was without guilt, as his love for Quinn had only strengthened rather than weakened his sense of responsibility. He rolled to one side, looking up to see the concern revealed in Quinn's beloved face. Then the pain from his back transmitted itself to his every nerve and he collapsed back, unconscious again.

He knew no more.

The room wasn't completely dark when he awoke. From the corner of his eye, he could see a light burning. He tried to roll over and look for Quinn, but pain once again ripped through him as he lifted his chest from the sheets. He groaned, falling back down, and Ani was instantly by his side. "Don't move, Mr. Ben."

Even dazed by agony, he could sense something was wrong. The bed was too hard, the sheets not as soft, and the ship's rocking motion had a different feel to her. This wasn't Quinn's cabin. "Ani, where are we?"

"We're on the Excalibur, Mr. Ben. They put you in the Captain's cabin until you recover."

"Why are we here? Where's Quinn?"

"You're to be sent back to England. Cap'n...cap'n told me to look after you."

"And Quinn?" Where was his lover? The physical agony was nothing compared to his emotional distress. Were Xanatos' words correct? Did Quinn no longer want him, now that he was scarred?

"He has to be a privateer for another year and a half. He said I'm to stay with you until he's done, that I shouldn't be a pirate anymore. Then he said...he said he'd come for...me."

Ani's face looked as stricken as Ben felt.

~ end ~