JAMES
Caspian’s normal debonair energy is gone as we anchor in the bay of Ironhold.
Over the last few days, I would catch him and Van speaking in low tones in dark corners—their conversations progressively turning more and more urgent.
It was concerning. That day in my cabin, Caspian had gone somewhere else for a moment—somewhere dark, and as I stand next to him now, he looks in danger of it happening again.
I glance at him out of the corner of my eye—he’s strained, like he could snap from a touch.
His face is guarded, jaw tense, fists gripping the rail so hard I can see the bones of his knuckles.
There’s no trace of his usual smirk, or amused glimmer in his eyes that usually accompanies how he looks out at the world.
I’m slightly surprised when he joins me in the boat going to shore, having been convinced for the last few days he’d stay aboard.
From the unhappy look on Van’s face as he settles next to him and the stubborn set of Caspian’s shoulders, I know they’d most likely argued about just that.
I’m still annoyed that he won't tell me what’s going on.
But the altercation in the hallway was irritating for other reasons too.
Mostly because I felt like I was pushing to know details not as his Captain, but as someone who cared on a different level.
And fuck if I know what the hell that means.
The boat scrapes sand and the sounds and smells of Ironhold’s quay assault my senses.
Ironhold is a city of grey, and gets its name from the iron deposits in the area.
Technically, it’s a territory of Ralta, a kingdom in Seven Landings.
Because of this, it boasts a prominent fort that sits on top of a small rise overlooking the bay, giving the entire city an ominous feel like we’re being watched.
The city doesn’t necessarily like pirates, but I have certain connections that allow me to move freely through these streets.
Connections that allow my reputation to discourage any trouble.
Which is why I’m frustrated that I don’t know what’s going on with the prince.
I grab Caspian’s arm as he goes to walk off—an action I regret as soon as my hand comes into contact with his bare skin. I fight through the reaction as he turns to me.
“You good?” I ask.
Caspian gives me one of his smirks but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Just peachy, Captain.”
I step closer, my irritation tightening my grip. “Last chance to tell me the truth.”
“Everything is fine,” he yanks his arm free. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go drown myself in rum.”
He’s lying. He’s blatantly doing it too which pisses me off.
I watch him walk up the beach, Van right on his heels.
I debate following him; it’s not like I have anything pressing to do.
Harrison and Lan are handling the resupply.
The others are all going to various destinations to get drunk, and fuck.
Before I really know what I’ve decided, my feet take me up the beach following behind Caspian before he gets lost in the crowd.
I tell myself it’s because if something happens to him, our entire voyage is null and void. But I’m not sure that’s entirely why.
Their path takes them deeper into the city, away from the docks, before they stop in a quiet lane in front of an establishment I know well, called Greystone.
They have a heated discussion in the street.
It takes a few minutes but Caspian eventually wins and Van storms off while Caspian enters the building.
I follow a few minutes later, climbing the steps of the nondescript building with no signage or markings.
Greystone is one of the more upscale brothels in town.
They pride themselves on being discreet, and hold their secrets close.
Unlike some of the other similar establishments who sell information as freely as they sell sex, this is a place I frequent when I want to keep my name out of everyone’s mouths.
I don’t see him when I walk in. I wave away the attention, moving through the dimly lit space in search of him. I’m just about to head back to the bar and admit I’ve lost him when I pass a doorway and happen to glance in.
I freeze. Caspian has a man on his knees, his cock in the man’s mouth.
His hands thread through the dark locks, gripping tightly.
Caspian’s head is thrown back against the wall, but his face looks anything but lost to pleasure and when he looks back down at the man, frustration skates across his features.
I know I should turn around before he sees me but I can’t get my feet to move.
Caspian senses he’s being watched and looks towards the doorway.
Our eyes clash, awareness floods my body like liquid fire.
I can’t breathe. I’m trying to figure out why I have equal parts need and fury burning me from the inside out.
Caspian’s eyes darken into a challenge, provocative, as his eyes skim down my body.
He gives me a wicked grin as he increases the pace.
The difference now is a flicker of pleasure glazes his eyes.
I don’t know if it’s from me watching or if the man at his feet is finally getting to him.
With a visceral urge that catches me off guard, I hope it’s because of me.
My fists clench and the rage takes over. I don’t have time to think about what I’m doing or why I’m doing it—I storm across the room.
I rip the man off Caspian and shove him away. “Get the fuck out,” I snarl.
The man is shocked, rightly so, I’m rather shocked myself, but I can’t stop these feelings raging through me.
No one should be touching him. No one—
What the fuck am I doing?
The man scrambles away and practically runs out the door.
I steel myself, knowing I’ve just thrown myself boldly into the deep end and there’s no going back.
I turn to find Caspian looking at me with a curious tilt of his head.
The amusement I’d been searching for the past week is back in full force, and a devilish grin is on his face.
“I hope you plan to finish what he started, Captain,” Caspian says.
He’s still stroking himself and so help me God, I’d have better luck halting the tide than stopping my eyes from drifting down to his hand.
The way he’s roughly jerking himself sends chills vibrating up my spine.
My eyes jump back to his, a scowl on my face as I try to process my reaction to seeing him like this.
Caspian steps closer. I take a step back.
“Why are you here, James?” The use of my name catches me off guard. It might be the first time I’ve heard him say it, and I’m loath to admit the way it feels more intimate than maybe it should.
Why am I here?
Because no one should be touching him.
Caspian takes another step forward—this time I don’t step back. His eyes are blown with black, a predatory glint in them as he crowds me. He puts a hand on my cock over my pants .
“I think I know why you’re here,” he continues. I feel my cock twitch against his hand and so does he. It’s like fuel to the fire I see in his eyes. “You want to see what it feels like.”
The feral edge is screaming warnings at me so loudly my ears ring with them, but I can’t for the life of me step back. I’m captivated by his intensity, smoldering in the blue depths of his gaze. His fingers roughly work the ties of my pants loose.
“You want to know what it feels like to have a man touch you.” His voice is low and raspy and sends chills across my skin.
My breath picks up in anticipation of what’s about to happen.
I’m trying to keep it steady, to not show him what he’s doing to me but there’s no hiding it.
My control is slipping—I grasp onto whatever shred of it I have left, trying to withstand this spell he has me under.
This just went from heated undertones and questions to a roaring inferno of desire.
Caspian’s eyes lock on mine. He jerks my pants down just enough and slowly wraps his hand around me. I bite my tongue to stop the groan rising from the back of my throat. He’s studying every little expression as he grips me with a harshness that’s foreign to me, but oh so fucking good.
“You want to feel how different it is from a woman.”
Caspian strokes me from base to tip and a rumble escapes from my parted lips as I nearly pitch into him.
He’s just the right amount of firm, his palms rough with calluses that only add to the pleasure.
If I had the capacity to feel anything other than the electricity running through my veins, I might feel embarrassed by how hard I grow in his hand from hardly anything at all.
Caspian hums in approval and strokes me again, a vicious but heady look in his eyes. His thumb swipes up the precum leaking out of me and spreads it over my length. I choke on a groan and my eyes shutter, my stubborn nature refusing to let go yet.
“Your cock is so needy for a man’s touch,” Caspian purrs. I grit my teeth, eyes sharpening into a scowl as a growl escapes—
I’m not gay.
He huffs a laugh. “Or maybe just for my touch.”
His breath brushes my lips in a teasing caress. “Is that it, Captain?”
Caspian continues to stroke me until I’m painfully hard. I’m nearly panting, biting off a curse not just at his touch, but his filthy mouth.
“Have you touched yourself thinking of my hand wrapped around you?” His voice is a gravelly rasp in his throat. “Or—” His lips brush my jaw and he leans in to whisper in my ear. “Was it my mouth?”
He slowly sinks to his knees and all my flimsy illusions of control shatter.
The prince—on his knees. For me.
I’m so fucked.
Caspian looks up, a knowing gleam in his eyes. “Enjoy it, Captain, this is the only time you’ll see me kneeling.”
His mouth slides over my head and I’m gone— done .