2 Beneath the Sails
The lantern's glow faded down the companionway long after Tye had gone, leaving Aaron alone with the steady creak of the ship and the thunder of his own heartbeat.
He sat against the rough planking of the brig, knees drawn up, shirt still twisted from where Tye's hands had gripped it during that brief, searing kiss.
His lips tingled, swollen and sensitive, and every breath carried the faint taste of the captain, salt, rum, and something darker that Aaron couldn't name.
He pressed the heel of his hand to his mouth, trying to hold onto the sensation, but it slipped away like smoke, leaving only a fierce ache low in his belly.
Sleep came in fits that night. Dreams tangled with memory: Tye's golden eye burning into him, the hard press of the pirate's body, the way his beard had scraped lightly against Aaron's jaw.
He woke more than once, hard and straining against his breeches, the damp spot of precum cooling uncomfortably against his skin.
By dawn, when the first gray light filtered through the grating overhead, Aaron felt raw, as if the kiss had stripped away a layer of protection he hadn't known he wore.
Footsteps on the ladder brought him upright. A different pirate this time, one with a scarred cheek and a leer, shoved a tin plate through the bars. Hardtack and a strip of dried beef. Aaron ate mechanically, tasting nothing. The guard lingered, eyeing him with crude curiosity.
"Captain's pet, eh? Wonder what ye did to earn a soft death." The man chuckled and moved on.
Aaron ignored the taunt, but it lodged under his skin. He wasn't dead yet, and that fact alone felt like a brand. Tye had spared him for reasons that went beyond mercy, and the knowledge both thrilled and terrified him.
The day dragged. The Storm drove hard through the swells, her black sails bellied out with a following wind that carried them swiftly toward Nassau.
Aaron could hear the crew's shouts above, the slap of bare feet on deck, the occasional crack of a bosun's starter on some unlucky sailor's back.
Once, a shadow fell across the grating and he looked up to see Tye himself passing by, coat flapping, speaking low orders to a mate.
Their eyes met for the barest instant, Tye's expression unreadable, before the captain moved on. Aaron's pulse stuttered all the same.
Dusk painted the sky crimson when the guard returned, this time with keys. "Captain wants ye. Clean yerself up first."
Aaron was hauled topside to a bucket of seawater and a scrap of sailcloth.
He washed quickly under watchful eyes, the cold shock of the water doing little to cool the heat that had been simmering in him all day.
When they marched him aft again, the deck was mostly empty, the crew at their evening grog below.
Only a single lookout high in the rigging and the helmsman at the wheel paid him any mind.
The cabin door closed behind him with a soft click.
Lanterns burned low, casting golden pools across the charts and glittering trinkets scattered on Tye's table.
The captain stood at the stern windows, back to the door, staring out at the darkening sea.
He had shed his coat; the white shirt clung to the broad lines of his shoulders, damp with sweat from the day's heat.
"Lock the door," Tye said without turning.
The guard outside obeyed, and then they were alone.
Aaron stayed near the entrance, uncertain. "You sent for me."
Tye turned then. In the lamplight his face looked harsher, the scar that ran through one dark brow standing out white against tanned skin. But his eyes, especially that strange golden one, held something warmer, almost hesitant.
"I did." He crossed the space between them in three strides and stopped just short of touching. "All day I've thought of nothing but your mouth under mine. Dangerous thoughts for a captain to have."
Aaron swallowed. "Then why risk bringing me here?"
"Because I want more." Tye's voice dropped, rough at the edges. "And because I think you want it too."
The air felt thick suddenly, charged like the moments before a squall. Aaron could smell Tye's skin, sun and salt and the faint spice of whatever soap he used. He wanted to reach out, but fear held him still.
Tye solved it for him. One large hand rose to cup Aaron's jaw, thumb stroking along his lower lip with deliberate slowness. "Tell me to stop and I will. Send you back below untouched."
Aaron's breath shook out of him. "Don't stop."
The words were barely spoken before Tye's mouth claimed his again.
This kiss was nothing like the cautious one in the brig.
It was deep and demanding, Tye's tongue sliding against his with confident strokes that made Aaron's knees weaken.
He clutched at Tye's shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric as the captain pressed him back against the cabin door.
Their bodies aligned, chest to chest, hip to hip, and Aaron felt the hard evidence of Tye's arousal grinding against his own through layers of cloth.
Tye broke the kiss only to move lower, teeth grazing Aaron's throat, beard scraping deliciously over sensitive skin. Aaron tilted his head back against the wood, a low sound escaping him when Tye found the spot just below his ear and sucked hard enough to leave a mark.
"Quiet," Tye murmured against his neck. "Sound carries on a ship."
Aaron bit his lip to obey, but it was hard when Tye's hands were sliding under his shirt, callused palms gliding over his ribs and stomach. Thumbs brushed his nipples, teasing them to tight peaks, and Aaron arched into the touch with a stifled gasp.
Tye pulled back just enough to yank Aaron's shirt over his head and toss it aside. His gaze raked down Aaron's bare torso, hungry and appreciative. "Beautiful," he said roughly. "All that work on deck has done you favors."
Heat flooded Aaron's face, but pride followed it. He had always taken quiet satisfaction in his body, the lean strength of arms and back, the flat plane of his stomach. Now, under Tye's stare, he felt desired in a way he'd never dared imagine.
Tye shrugged out of his own shirt next, revealing a chest dusted with dark hair that arrowed down to disappear beneath his belt.
Scars crossed his skin like pale lightning, souvenirs of battles won, and muscle shifted under bronze skin as he moved.
Aaron reached out without thinking, tracing one jagged line across Tye's ribs. The captain's breath hitched.
"Careful," Tye warned, voice low. "Touch me like that and I might forget caution altogether."
Aaron didn't want caution. He flattened his palm over Tye's heart, feeling the strong, rapid beat, then slid lower, exploring the ridges of muscle, the trail of hair that tickled his fingertips. When he reached the waistband of Tye's breeches, he hesitated.
Tye caught his wrist and guided it down, pressing Aaron's hand against the rigid length straining the fabric. "Feel what you do to me."
Aaron curled his fingers experimentally, marveling at the heat and thickness even through cloth. Tye groaned softly, hips pushing forward into the touch.
"God, yes. Like that."
Emboldened, Aaron worked the buttons open one by one. Tye's cock sprang free, long and heavy, flushed dark, a bead of precum already glistening at the slit. Aaron wrapped his hand around it, skin sliding over rigid velvet, and Tye's head fell back with a ragged exhale.
"Christ, Aaron..."
The sound of his name spoken like that sent a bolt of lust straight to Aaron's groin. He stroked slowly, learning the weight and shape, the way Tye's thighs tensed when he thumbed the sensitive head. Precum slicked his palm, easing the glide.
Tye's hands went to Aaron's breeches next, making short work of the ties. Cool air hit heated skin as Aaron's cock was freed, aching and wet-tipped. Tye's fingers closed around him, and Aaron jerked with a sharp cry he barely muffled against Tye's shoulder.
"Shh," Tye soothed, even as his grip tightened and began to move. "Let me take care of you."
They stood there against the door, stroking each other in matching rhythms, breaths harsh in the quiet cabin.
Aaron buried his face in the crook of Tye's neck, inhaling the warm scent of him, tasting salt when he dared press open-mouthed kisses along the strong column of throat.
Tye's free hand roamed his back, dipping lower to cup his ass and pull him closer, until their cocks slid together in slick friction.
Aaron's hips snapped forward involuntarily, chasing more of that delicious pressure. Tye growled approval and adjusted his grip, wrapping one large hand around both their lengths, stroking them together. The sensation was overwhelming, heat and hardness and the wet slide of precum between them.
"Look at me," Tye commanded roughly.
Aaron lifted his head. Their eyes locked, blue and gold burning into gray. The intimacy of it pushed Aaron closer to the edge.
"Tye, I'm…"
"I know." Tye's strokes sped up, thumb swirling over both heads on every upstroke. "Let go. I've got you."
The orgasm hit Aaron like a broadside. He came with a choked groan, pulsing hot stripes over Tye's fist and belly.
The clench of his body and the feel of Aaron's release spilling over him dragged Tye over moments later.
He buried his face in Aaron's hair, hips jerking as he spent himself between them, cum mixing warm and sticky on their skin.
They stayed pressed together afterward, breathing hard, hearts hammering against each other's chests. Tye was the first to move, reaching for a cloth on the table to clean them both with surprising gentleness. When he finished, he didn't step away. Instead he rested his forehead against Aaron's.
"That was only the beginning," he said quietly.
Aaron managed a shaky laugh. "If that's the beginning, the rest might kill me."
Tye's smile was crooked. "Worth it, though."
They dressed slowly, stealing touches and brief kisses. Reality crept back in with the sound of eight bells striking overhead, midnight. Tye's expression grew serious.
"You'll go back below now. Tomorrow night, same time. The crew thinks I'm questioning you about trade routes. Let them keep thinking it."
Aaron nodded, though reluctance weighed his limbs. "And when we reach Nassau?"
Tye's jaw tightened. "We'll find a way. I won't let them harm you."
The guard escorted Aaron below again, but the brig felt different now, less like a prison and more like a temporary inconvenience. He curled up on the thin pallet, body pleasantly sore, mind replaying every moment. Sleep came easier this time, deep and dreamless.
The next days blurred into a rhythm of secrecy and stolen pleasure.
By day Aaron remained the silent prisoner, fed and watered but ignored by most of the crew.
Whispers followed him, speculation about why Gold Eye Tye kept one captive alive when the others had fed the sharks, but no one challenged the captain openly.
At night, when the ship slept under stars or scudding clouds, Aaron was brought to the cabin.
Sometimes they only talked, sprawled across Tye's berth with a bottle of rum between them, sharing stories of childhoods neither had chosen.
Tye spoke of a mother lost to fever, a father who drank himself to death, the streets of Port Royal where he'd learned to fight and steal before the sea claimed him.
Aaron told of quiet longing in a Florida port town, of watching handsome sailors from afar and hating himself for it.
More often, talk gave way to touch. The second night, Tye laid Aaron out on the wide berth and explored him with mouth and hands until Aaron was begging, hoarse and desperate.
Tye took him in his mouth then, slow, deliberate sucks that had Aaron writhing, fingers tangled in dark hair.
When he came down Tye's throat, the captain swallowed every drop, eyes locked on Aaron's the entire time.
The third night Aaron returned the favor, kneeling between Tye's spread thighs while the ship rolled gently beneath them.
He learned the taste of Tye's cock, the way the captain's control frayed when Aaron took him deep, humming around the thick length.
Tye warned him with a strained curse before coming, flooding Aaron's mouth with bitter-salt heat that he swallowed greedily, proud of the shattered groan he drew from the feared pirate captain.
They never went further than that, no penetration, no full joining, though the want grew daily. Tye held back with iron restraint, muttering about time and place and the need to keep Aaron safe. Aaron understood, even as frustration built alongside desire.
On the fourth morning the lookout cried land, and by evening the low green shape of New Providence rose on the horizon.
Nassau's lights twinkled like fallen stars as they anchored in the harbor among a forest of masts, pirate vessels of every size, their crews already spilling ashore in search of rum and women and whatever else the lawless town offered.
Aaron stood at the small grated window of the brig, watching the bustle on deck as the crew prepared to disembark. Tye appeared beside the bars suddenly, expression grim.
"Tomorrow we go ashore," he said quietly. "You'll swear to join the crew. It's the only way I can protect you openly. Refuse, and they'll demand your blood."
Aaron met that mismatched gaze steadily. After the past nights, refusal wasn't even a consideration. "I'll swear."
Relief flickered across Tye's face, quickly hidden. He reached through the bars and squeezed Aaron's shoulder once, hard. "Good man."
Then he was gone, barking orders as the longboats were lowered. Aaron watched the crew row toward the bright chaos of Nassau, lanterns bobbing across black water. Tye remained aboard with a skeleton watch, but he didn't come below that night.
Alone in the dim brig, Aaron touched his lips, remembering the taste of the captain, and wondered what the morrow would bring in a town where no law held sway but strength and cunning.