Chapter Sixteen #3
After setting it on the main table, James fixed his coffee, putting in both cream and sugar.
When he then brought the mug to his mouth to have a sip, he frowned as the liquid washed over his tongue.
He ought to have ordered tea instead. Coffee smelled nice, but he much preferred the taste of tea.
Still, Cassian liked coffee. In fact, he almost seemed to require it in the mornings to feel invigorated enough to start the day.
And James had thought that it might be nice for them both to have coffee that morning.
Next time, though, he’d have tea instead.
James was still preparing Cassian’s coffee when he heard the blankets rustling behind him. He looked over his shoulder.
“Good morning,” he said with a smile, his heart pitter-pattering the moment they locked eyes.
“Do I smell coffee?” Cassian asked, his words coming out slow and thick from sleep.
“I had the cabin steward bring them,” James said. “Don’t worry, though, I’m mixing in the cream myself. I put sugar in mine too. Just, well, the taste is a little bitter to me without it.”
Clinking the spoon on the edge of the mug to clean it off, James smiled proudly at the light-brown liquid swirling inside, confident that he’d made it exactly the way that Cassian liked it.
After picking up both mugs, he headed over to the bed.
Cassian pushed himself up and kissed James the moment that he sat next to him.
“Such exceptional service,” he purred in between kisses.
James’s stomach fluttered, and he hummed as their lips moved together.
After Cassian took the mug from him, they enjoyed their beverages in silence.
Soon, Cassian set his hand on James’s thigh, and then James transferred his mug to his left hand so that he could place his other hand atop Cassian’s.
Cassian intertwined their fingers. Within a couple more minutes, they both finished their coffees.
“Do you really have to work?” Cassian asked, raising James’s hand to his lips to plant a kiss on the back of it.
“Unfortunately.” James checked the clock. “Not for an hour and a half, though.”
“Good,” Cassian said before kissing his hand twice more. He then unlocked their fingers, giving James his mug the moment his hand was free. “Return these to the table so that I can have the rest of you.”
A blush crept over James’s cheeks as he stood.
After setting the mugs back on the room’s main table, he looked over at the little round one near the entryway and considered whether or not he ought to bring the notebook with him.
Even seeing it there, with the pen pressed between the pages, James’s hand twitched, the urge to write gnawing at him.
“Do you mind if I write?” James asked. “I can write next to you. In the bed.”
“Not at all,” Cassian replied.
James swiped the notebook off of the entryway table and hurried over to the bed. His entire body thrummed with happiness as Cassian wrapped him up in a backward hug, holding James from behind while he settled back against Cassian’s chest. Cassian began to kiss his neck and cheek.
“Am I really supposed to write like this?” James asked, chuckling.
“Mm-hmm.”
Cassian continued to kiss him. Laughing to himself, James opened the notebook, resolving to ignore it.
For the first couple of sentences, he was fairly unsuccessful, and as a result, the prose wasn’t as poetic as he’d have otherwise liked it to be.
After a while, however, James found that he was mostly able to balance both things—vaguely enjoying Cassian’s kisses while keeping the thread of the story in the forefront of his mind.
He began to write the scene where the pirate and the sailor first spotted each other, the still-unnamed sailor seeing Frederick through a spyglass.
He wanted the sailor to like the look of Frederick, even though the pirate frightened him, too.
And so, he started to write about the sailor taking note of his enemy’s appearance in a positive way, admiring the man’s strong jaw and impressive-looking physique.
Cassian caught James’s earlobe in between his teeth, pulling James out of 1700-whenever and back into the present.
“Mmm . . . so the sailor likes the look of our Frederick, hm?” Cassian asked.
James let out a fast breath through his nose. “How am I supposed to finish even one chapter when you constantly keep pulling me out of the story?”
“I’m not the writer,” Cassian said next to his ear. “That’s for you to figure out.”
“Or you could stop being so handsy,” James suggested.
“I only have fifty-five more minutes with you, and this is how I want to spend them,” Cassian said.
His lips found James’s neck again. James sighed.
“Selfish bastard, you are,” he said.
“I’m not selfish. How is it selfish for me to have what’s mine?” Cassian retorted.
James couldn’t think of a proper response.
Not with his half-formed scene still lingering in his mind, occupying precious brain space.
Not while Cassian continued to shower him with the nicest little kisses, either.
Rolling his eyes, James returned his focus to the page and resumed writing the scene, with Cassian clearly reading along as he scribbled words across the page.
Fifteen minutes later, James finally reached the part where Frederick and the sailor would meet and the sailor was taken prisoner.
Before the sailor could be locked away in his cell, Frederick nearly kissed him, fisting the man’s hair and bringing their lips close before suddenly shoving him into the little room.
James had the thought that perhaps he’d write the sailor pleasuring himself afterward, but with Cassian still watching, it felt strange to put that part in the notebook.
So, James set his pen aside and cracked his knuckles, wondering if he ought to be finished for now instead.
“Why’d you stop?” Cassian asked. “I liked that bit.”
James could practically hear the man’s pout in his tone.
“I think I want to write the next part later. Or tomorrow. Whenever I have some time to myself.”
“But why? I’m not being as lovey now. I’m letting you focus,” Cassian reasoned.
“It’s not that,” James said. “It’s the fact that it’s a—a sensual scene. I was thinking of having the sailor . . . masturbate. And I feel a little funny writing it while you’re . . . hovering.”
“Excuse me?” Cassian scoffed. “I have you here with me in my stateroom—which is one of the nicest rooms on the ship, by the way, in case you’ve somehow forgotten—and I’m holding you close, being perfectly pleasant and affectionate, and showing you how much I appreciated the coffee this morning. I’m not hovering.”
Guilt twisted in James’s stomach.
“It’s just that I’ve never written like this before.
Cuddling with someone,” he said, softening his tone.
“I’ve never even let someone else read something I’ve written unless I’ve had the chance to rework it a little.
It’s new for me. And I’m still a novice, especially when it comes to the, uhm, the intimacy scenes.
I can’t help but worry that you’ll think I’m mediocre if you read them. ”
“I could never think that,” Cassian said.
He caught James’s chin and forced James to face him as much as was possible in their current positioning.
“You are wonderful, James.” James’s face warmed, and Cassian pressed a soft kiss to James’s lips.
“Besides, even if you are a novice, your writing won’t improve unless you work at it. ”
“Are you implying that it does, in fact, need improving?”
“I’m implying that you ought to seize opportunities to write as they present themselves.
Even if it means writing while the man you love is hovering.
” He moved to whisper into James’s ear. “I like watching you create, my sweet James. And I want to read along as you write the scene with the sailor thinking of Frederick. Don’t make me beg.
Don’t make me be stern, either, which is what I’d be more likely to resort to rather than begging. ”
James huffed a light laugh.
“You’d order me to write it for you?” he asked. “Is that what you’re saying?”
“If I needed to.”
Arousal flared to life in James’s veins, making his blood turn hot and rush to his pelvic region. Rolling his bottom lip between his teeth, he shifted his positioning as his cock began to stiffen. He liked the thought of Cassian ordering him around a little.
“So, will you write it now?” Cassian asked, nuzzling James’s cheek with his nose.
James let out a shuddered breath.
“N-no.”
Cassian pulled back and caught James’s gaze.
“No?” Furrowing his brow, Cassian shook his head. “James, I’m being sweet with you. I was very kind with my request that you continue. Why are you resisting?”
“Because I . . .” James’s face burned hotter. “Because I want you to order me to write it.”
His heart thudded while he waited for Cassian’s response.
After a pause, Cassian crooked an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t find that humiliating?”
James shook his head. “I like it when you’re stern with me. I find it . . . exciting.”
“Exciting?”
“I know how strange that sounds, but yes.”
“So, you’d like for me to order you around outside of the bedroom, then, as well?” Cassian asked. “Outside of sexual intimacy?”
It wasn’t as though Cassian hadn’t been doing exactly that, more or less, though perhaps Cassian, as self-centered as he was, hadn’t exactly realized it.
“Sometimes, yes,” James said, “though I like it when you’re sweet, too.” He paused to snicker. “I like your version of sweet, I should say.”
Cassian wrinkled his nose, likely reacting to James’s playful insult. Twisting to face him, James caught Cassian’s lips in a short-but-fierce kiss, pouring every bit of love he had into it in hopes that Cassian might not continue to take that comment in a negative manner.
Once they parted, James rubbed his nose against Cassian’s, since Cassian had gone right back to wrinkling it.
“Don’t make that face,” James said, keeping his tone sweet.
“I’m providing you with the permission to be your usual demanding self with me.
Even when it comes to things like wanting me to write something for you, or wanting me to spend time with you, or forcing me to be subjected to your selfish sweetness while I’m attempting to concentrate on something else.
” He took a pause to offer what he hoped was a reassuring enough smile.
“It’s fun for me. And it makes me feel . . . wanted.”
“You are wanted.”
“Prove it to me, then.”
Cassian narrowed his eyes. He seemed to be scrutinizing James’s reddened face, maybe to confirm that he was being sincere. James hoped that Cassian would be convinced of his honesty.
Seconds passed, and then Cassian sat up straighter and leveled a look.
“Finish the scene for me,” he said curtly. “I’d like to watch you write it.”
James’s stomach swooped, and he nodded. He untwisted himself and settled back against Cassian’s chest. After adjusting his positioning a little (he was still half hard), he began to write.
Heart pounding nervously, James started to paint the scene.
He only got as far as mentioning the sailor’s stiffening member when one of Cassian’s hands found his hardening prick.
“Uhm, Cassian?” James asked through a breathy laugh as Cassian’s fingers brushed his foreskin.
“Keep writing,” Cassian said into his ear, sending a shiver up James’s spine.
Swallowing thickly, James continued the story. Cassian began to play with him, running his fingers up and down James’s shaft. James paused, nearly fumbling his pen.
“Did I give you permission to stop?” Cassian asked, wrapping his hand around James’s length.
Heat rushed to James’s pelvic region.
“No,” he breathed, bucking his hips and thrusting into Cassian’s fist.
“Keep writing, then,” Cassian whispered.
Head swimming, James attempted to do just that, but Cassian continued to pleasure him, his strokes becoming more purposeful, and soon James was barely able to write legibly at all.
Still, he kept on scribbling, kept on putting words on the paper, kept coloring the scene of the poor, frightened, smitten sailor who found his captor irresistible.
One or two minutes passed like this, with James struggling to keep himself focused on his writing, and he thought he’d have to tell Cassian that he couldn’t manage to finish, but then Cassian reached forward with his other hand, plucked the pen out of James’s grip, placed it on the notebook, and closed the cover.
Moving the notebook aside, Cassian increased the speed and forcefulness of his strokes, bringing James even closer to the edge.
“Oh, God, Cassian,” he moaned, his toes curling.
“Am I sweet enough for you now?” Cassian asked, a playful lilt in his voice.
“Yes,” James moaned. Cassian took James’s earlobe into his mouth, sending pleasure needling up the length of James’s spine. “Holy hell, yes.”
“I’d like to taste you,” Cassian said, his tone commanding. “Afterward, I want you to pleasure me. And later, I’d like for you to think up another way for us to spend time together. Outside of either the saloon or the lounge. Do you think that you can do these things for me?”
Letting out a little whimper, James nodded.
His muscles tensed as Cassian continued to stroke him, and he prayed that he could hold out long enough for Cassian to wrap his lips around his prick.
Finally, Cassian pressed one more kiss to James’s neck and then removed his hand.
James blurted out a couple of curse words under his breath from the sudden loss of pleasure and friction.
Once Cassian managed to move, James fell backward onto the mattress, and the moment he was settled, Cassian brought his prick into his mouth.
James came on the spot.
“Ah!” he cried out as Cassian hollowed his cheeks and sucked. James’s cock continued to pulse for a couple of seconds, and Cassian kept on working him through the rest of his orgasm. Overstimulated, James twisted the sheets in his palms. “Jesus Christ, fuck.”
Cassian pulled off. He looked at James expectantly. It took James a couple of seconds to realize what the man was waiting for. Then he laughed lightly.
“Thank you, Cassian,” James said.
Cassian smiled wolfishly.
“You’re very welcome.” Cassian climbed up and collapsed next to him. He took one of James’s hands and brought it to his waiting cock. “Now, it’s my turn.”