Chapter 6
Rowan was practically sweating by the time he closed the door behind him, only a few hours after Yves had first placed the silver plug.
Yves swept into the first of his chambers, a parlor elegantly appointed with a shiny oak dining table and a pair of ruby velvet armchairs arranged in front of the cold fireplace.
Rowan had been in these rooms many times.
Hell, they’d had sex on practically every available sturdy surface in Yves’s quarters, and several unsturdy ones besides.
But the ostentatiousness always struck him, reminding him how different he and his husband really were.
They were both ambitious, sure, but Yves had a hunger in him that far surpassed Rowan’s.
He could never be satisfied. Always consuming.
Always feeding more to the void within him.
It was never enough, and sometimes Rowan worried that one day he would no longer be enough either.
Yves cast his coat over the back of one of the armchairs and continued further into his quarters toward his bedroom, expecting Rowan to follow.
But Rowan remained by the door. Every time he walked, he was reminded of the silver plug buried in his ass, keeping Yves’s cum inside him.
Keeping him ready for Yves’s cock. Even the roll of the ship caused his stance to shift, pressing the silver bulb against his sensitive walls.
As much as he wanted to follow Yves to bed and present himself to be ravished again, he couldn’t quite make his feet move. There were things he and Yves needed to discuss, and if he let himself be fucked silly, he’d forget all about them.
Sometimes Rowan wondered if his inability to resist Yves’s seduction was simply because he was weak, or if it was due in part to some otherworldly demonic draw.
Finally noticing that Rowan was not eagerly following behind him, Yves came back to his side.
“Do you think John will be able to make it on his own?” Rowan blurted before Yves could touch him. This was truly the least of his concerns, but he had to start somewhere.
Yves smiled at him indulgently.
“I paid him in advance for the season, and he’s got the Mercy’s cargo to pawn. I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Yves assured him. “I’m more interested in how you’re faring.” He closed the distance between them, eyes growing hungry and dark. Rowan could have sworn he saw the man’s mouth watering.
“Yves…” Rowan dodged around him, holding up his hands to fend him off. Yves’s smile sharpened, thinking this was another game.
“Yes? Tell me, has it been a struggle to go about your day with my little gift inside you? As you captain these poor sods who are none the wiser that you’re ready to be fucked at any moment?”
Rowan backed away more, his ass bumped against the edge of the table, jostling the plug and sending a shockwave of pleasure, pain, and humiliation through his body.
His knees weakened for a moment before he caught himself on the edge of the table.
Yves reached him, his long-fingered hands grabbing Rowan’s hips and—
“Stop, please,” Rowan gasped. Yves’s body stilled, hungry mouth mere centimeters away, ready to devour him.
“Are we playing coy or is something wrong, darling?”
“I—” Yves’s warm breath wafting across his skin was driving him to distraction. He pushed Yves away gently to give himself some breathing room. Yves’s brow furrowed.
“Are you in pain? Should I take it out?”
“I-it’s fine just…Why did you do that?”
“Do what?” Yves almost looked lost, standing there without his hands on Rowan’s body. No outlet for his carnivorous lust.
“Those sailors know about us now,” Rowan hissed.
Yves had kissed him in front of outsiders, and Rowan was sure everyone on the ship knew exactly what they’d gotten up to in the captain’s quarters of the Sweet Lettie as their crews guarded the prisoners.
He was as much to blame for it as Yves for going along with it, but that was beside the point.
After the battle outside Wave Harbor and their subsequent reunion and marriage, Yves and Rowan had braced for news of their relationship to spread.
They were not so naive as to think that killing Cyrus and Admiral Batteux would kill the information too, but no such rumors had spread.
It seemed as if the two conspirators had kept it largely to themselves, not wanting to share the glory.
Yves graced him with a charming smile. “Must we talk about this now darling, when we both know your pretty little ass is wet and primed for me?”
Rowan glowered at him. They’d agreed to keep their relationship a secret from the outside world, and now that would be impossible, since they’d revealed it all in front of an entire crew they didn’t know and couldn’t trust. And what would they do if their unwilling new crew members found out about Illusion? The whole thing was a mess.
It wasn’t that they were both men—though Rowan was sure certain factions of polite society would condemn them for that too—but that they were both wanted criminals.
Murderers and pirates with such hefty prices on their heads that whoever might capture them would have a hard time deciding which country to hand them over to.
If their relationship was known, it could be used against them.
They could be used to hurt each other. Just as Cyrus and Batteux had used Rowan to lure Yves out and kill him at Wave Harbor.
Rowan did not want to be responsible for another of Yves’s deaths.
Nor could he stand the thought of Yves being alone again if Rowan were to suffer a much more permanent fate.
“We agreed to keep it a secret, Yves,” Rowan said, frustrated with his husband as much as himself for giving in so easily, as always.
The easy confidence seemed to melt away from Yves’s shoulders.
“I couldn’t wait.”
“Why not?”
Yves shifted as if he wanted to get closer, a sudden vulnerability in his expression.
“Because I…I died again. And when I came back all I could do was miss you. It was hard enough to wait at the Teeth instead of hunting you down immediately.”
Rowan’s heart dropped to his stomach. He reached out to catch Yves’s hand and drew him closer.
“How did it happen?” he whispered.
Yves hesitated for a moment before brushing a light kiss across Rowan’s cheekbone just beneath his eyepatch.
“Do you really want to know?” His voice was low, as intimate as their embrace. As intimate as death.
Rowan didn’t, truly. He was surrounded by death constantly, whether dealt by his hand or not. Yet the thought of Yves dying filled him with so much dread he could barely stand it, nor could he stand to let Yves go through yet another death alone.
“Tell me, if you want.”
He felt more than saw Yves’s sad smile as their cheeks brushed. “I would spare you the gruesome details, my love.”
“Were you in pain? Did…Were you at peace after?” Rowan’s eyes widened.
“Does the crew know?” Thus far in Yves’s illustrious career, he’d been able to hide his immortality even from those closest to him.
As far as the crew was concerned, their captain was simply very lucky when it came to escaping the ultimate fate of all pirates.
And if there were rumors that cut close to his true nature, well, sailors were known to tell tall tales, and it only served to fuel the fire of his legend.
“It is like a dream of floating in the sea. Calm, no matter how violent the death.” Yves drew back to look at him, searching his face for a reaction to what he was about to say. “John knows. He got me below deck before anyone could see the extent of it.”
Rowan shuddered, trying not to let his imagination run away with what damage could have befallen Yves’s beautiful body, yet left no evidence behind.
“What will you do without him now that he is a captain in his own right? Is this why you made him a captain?”
“Not entirely.” Yves’s tongue poked the inside of his own cheek, a habit Rowan found endearing, even if it usually meant Yves was annoyed, or thinking thoughts that shouldn’t escape into the world.
“If we are going to have this conversation in full, perhaps we should take care of your delicate situation first?” Yves asked, his hand wandering down Rowan’s waist.
Rowan had almost completely forgotten about the plug in the face of Yves’s news. His muscles tensed at the reminder, sending another wave of not quite pleasure through his core. He bit his lip to hold back a whimper.
“I can’t trust that you won’t turn its removal to your advantage. You’re not going to distract me that easily,” Rowan said seriously.
Yves stepped back, his hand going to his chest in mock offense. “How could you say such a thing, darling? When have I ever used sex to distract you?”
Practically the whole beginning of their relationship, and just a few minutes ago, before Rowan had managed to steer the situation toward his questions.
But Rowan didn’t point that out; they both knew Yves’s favorite little tactic well.
And they both knew Rowan could rarely resist going along with it.
Rowan sighed, and the faux offense melted from Yves’s expression, replaced by his usual charm.
He stepped toward Rowan again, crowding him against the table.
“At least let me take you to bed, so we can be ready if the mood strikes,” he said playfully.
Rowan didn’t even have a chance to protest before Yves swept him up into his arms and began carrying him toward the bedroom.
“Yves, I’m serious!” Rowan growled. He tried to struggle, but the plug pressed on his prostate again and the struggle fizzled to a whimper.
Yves sighed, diverting course to plant himself on one of the velvet armchairs and settle Rowan into his lap like a child.
Rowan accepted this grudgingly. It was better than standing at least. He leaned his shoulder into Yves’s broad chest, his legs thrown over the arm of the chair.
There was silence between them, broken only by the susurration of waves and the creak of the Kraken’s timbers.