The Butcher and the Beast (12 page)

John strutted—there was no other word for it, John obviously proud of the figure he cut while naked, not a single trace of shame visible—coming back to him with the little vial. John handed it to him. “Oil. Stolen from a nobleman.”

Stephen looked at it, curious as he unstoppered the vial. It smelled of spices, quite warming. John slipped back into the bed, sitting next to him. The man’s warmth drew him—his moth to John’s flame.

“I imagine he put it to the same use we will.”

“I… I cannot see a civilized man sharing such madness.”

“Can you really not? Are you so convinced only a beast like me would give in to his needs and wants?” John’s fingers began to slide on his skin, so hot, leaving trails of fire behind them. They pushed beneath him, settled cupping his ass. “And what does that make you?”

“Bewitched.” Lost. Seduced.

John laughed. “I’ve been accused of many things, but I do believe this is the first time I have been accused of using magic.” Still chuckling, John brought their mouths together, lips pressing against his, tongue pushing in as it always did, so aggressive—so hot and wet and good.

Stephen allowed himself to be lost to it, caught within it as he always seemed to be. He hardly noticed as John’s fingers took the vial of oil from his own, as he was moved back to lie down upon John’s bed. John’s tongue played inside his mouth, made him melt and press against the strong body.

He did notice when John’s hand returned to his ass, a finger again finding his crease. He stiffened, body going tight without thought.

“You asked for this,” John reminded him, finger stroking, not trying to push into him, just sensitizing his most private skin.

“I…” He knew. He wore the mantle of coward poorly.

John growled, but his fingers were still gentle, touching carefully. “You will enjoy it, Butcher. You
will
.”

“As if you can simply will it to be so.”

“I
am
the captain of this vessel. My word is law.”

John kissed him again, moving him again, rolling him onto his stomach. The kiss broke and John’s lips slid around, his hair pushed away as sharp teeth bit gently at his nape. His hips pushed up and back, the motion instinctual, immediate.

“You see. You
will
.” John purred the words against his skin and began to massage him, to slide strong hands on his skin with firm, warm touches. The pirate’s kisses began at the top of his spine, slow, sucking kisses that were noisy and good and moving downward.

“John…” Stephen’s eyes rolled, his heart pounding furiously in his chest. He had never considered his back to be so sensitive, such an erogenous zone.

John’s answer was only a moan, and he moved his hands to work the tops of Stephen’s thighs, sliding his fingers between Stephen’s legs, spreading them slightly so John could tease the inside of his thighs. The slow kisses continued to move down his back, each one more intense than the last.

“John…” Stephen tried to turn, the pleasure blossoming within him, too huge to bear.

“More begging?” John’s groan slid along his spine, seemed to echo along his skin.

“I… I do not beg.” He groaned, hands scrambling on the sheets.

“But you want me. You want things you believe are wrong and filthy and barbaric.” John’s lips nuzzled the bundles of nerves in the base of his back, the sensations sparking all through him.

“You fascinate me. I cannot help myself.” Stephen fought to pull away, his own deep sounds filling the air.

“I would have you not even try to help yourself.” John’s tongue was suddenly at the top of his crease, a hand on each buttock, spreading him wide as that hot, wet tongue slid down toward his entrance.

“John!” Shock caught him, set him to utter stillness. What madness was this?

John rubbed his cheek against Stephen’s ass and the lick came again, John sliding his tongue again and again over Stephen’s hole. He near sobbed, a mixture of need and panic and pleasure and the unknown crashing over him.

“I have you, Butcher,” murmured John, sliding one hand beneath his hip to wrap around his erection, holding it in a tight grip as John began to tease at his hole, tongue pressing against it now, threatening to enter him.

His sight went a bright grey, his hips starting to shift, to rock without his permission. His cock slid through John’s hand and he moved back against the man’s tongue. The sensations were unbelievable, knowing what it was John was doing, even more so. Then, suddenly, he rocked back and John’s tongue pushed right into his body. Everything went quiet and still within him, his only focus that touch, that tongue. John pushed it deeper and deeper into him, John’s face pressed hard against his ass as John’s tongue wiggled inside him.
Inside
him. Then out, then in again, fucking him there as surely as it had ever fucked his mouth.

“Please. Please. I.” He. He. “I
need
.”

A pleased hum sounded, John’s tongue vibrating inside him as it moved in and out a few more times.

It disappeared suddenly, John shifting, covering him with that long, muscled body and one of John pushed a single finger in, sliding it deep into his body. Stephen pressed up, back against John, the heat driving his hunger, the pressure inside him new.

John’s pleasure was evident, his thick cock pressing against Stephen’s thigh, leaving a wet trail as John rubbed against him. Sharp teeth, soft lips and hot tongue slid over his shoulder, John moving his finger in and out, assuaging Stephen’s need and making it bigger at the same time.

“I will spend.” He panted, eyes rolling, wide.

“Then spend.” John pushed a second finger into him, John twisting both and they hit something inside him that created an explosion of sensation.

His scream tore from him, body bucking violently, seed pouring from him in a rush. Those fingers kept pressing that place, making the pleasure go and go until he thought he would surely faint.

John’s fingers finally slid out of him and he was turned. “I want to see your face as I take you.”

All Stephen could do was follow John’s hands, John’s touch, his eyes still rolling with the sensations within him. John slid his hands along Stephen’s legs, spreading them, bending them at the knee and pushing them back, leaving him exposed and vulnerable.

“I have you,” John told him, holding his gaze as something very hot and very large pressed against his entrance.

“Will you keep me?” Stephen panted, his heart pounding in his chest.

John stopped for a moment that seemed to go on for an eternity before he nodded. “I do believe I will, Butcher.” Then John’s heat pressed against him, pushed and pushed, insisting that his body stretch, that it accept John’s bulk.

Stephen groaned, eyes wide, the burn deep within him.

The head of John’s cock spread him wide before John stopped. Bending, John pressed on his lips, tongue sliding in deep, tasting of John and himself. “Just relax, Stephen.” John’s voice was low, husky, the cock inside him pulling away then coming back, pushing in again, going a little deeper this time.

“I…” He nodded, moaned into John’s lips as his body accepted the invasion.

Slowly, inch by inch, John rocked into him. The pirate would move back then forward again, always pushing just a little bit deeper each time.

“So tight,” groaned John. “I knew you would be.”

“Full.” Impossibly full. “You will never seat yourself fully within.”

John nodded. “I will. Have faith and let me in.”

The slow invasion continued, John pulling out and rocking back in. The burn was fading, replaced by the incredible fullness and something else, something warm that made Stephen want to shiver. Soon he was pushing back into each thrust, his body eager, his erection both full and aching.

“Yes. Yes.” John repeated it with every rocking thrust, the word a low growl. Then John shifted and his shaft jerked across that place deep inside Stephen that made everything else disappear.

“John. John.” Everything within him melted, eased, grew more and more heated.

“Told you.” John kept moving, kept hitting that spot. Then he wrapped a hand around Stephen’s cock and everything got even better. Stephen’s wrapped his own hands around John’s upper arms, and squeezed tight, his body gripping. Low moans came from John, and grunts, panting, each thrust having its own noise, its own feeling inside Stephen.

John just kept pushing, kept thrusting, sending him higher and higher.

“I will. I must. John. Please.”

John growled, the sound triumphant. “Yes. Come, Butcher. Give it to me.” The thrusts became harder, the tugs to his cock more forceful, like John would pull his climax right out of him.

Stephen offered it freely, entire body convulsing as he climaxed, pleasure drowning him. John roared, jerking into him, more heat filling his body.

They collapsed onto the bed together, both panting, trying to find breath. It was all he could do to cling and pant, heart pounding.

“Easy now,” murmured John, shifting, shaft sliding away from his body, leaving him empty, so very empty.

Stephen’s whimper escaped him, impossible to keep in. John touched him, hands soothing and warming, drawing him closer and petting. He cuddled in, moaning, collapsing into John’s strength.

“You are truly mine now.” The words rumbled in John’s chest.

“Am I?” Should that bother him?

“Yes.” John pulled the blankets up and chuckled. “And I’m sure you have any number of comments or protests to make. But they’ll keep ‘til morning, Butcher.”

“Not a butcher. Beast.”

John slid one big hand around his hip and tugged him back against John’s body. “But you are mine.”

“Perhaps you are mine.”

John laughed. “You’d like that, would you?”

Stephen wasn’t sure what the answer to that would be. What the answer
should
be. So he didn’t say a thing.

* * * *

John stood at the wheel, watching the sun set over the water, the wind blowing in his hair. There had been slim pickings in the last few weeks, and they’d met no real challenge since his wounds had healed some time ago. He knew the men were grumbling, unhappy. They needed a good fight now and then to keep them sharp, and food in the galley, gold in the hold.

Still, he was feeling too good to suffer the same mood as his crew. And the reason for that could be laid at the feet of the butcher they’d taken on. Just thinking of Grey had his smile widening and he shook his head. It would not do to let people know that Stephen was perhaps more to him than a butcher on the crew and a good time. It would not do to have that vulnerability exposed.

So instead of following his desires and going below to find Grey, he stayed where he was until the sun was gone, the water getting darker and darker before going black as sunset turned to dusk and became dark, stars twinkling in the sky.

Tom came by with a lantern. “Cap’n, sir? I brought your late meal to your cabin. Will ye take it here instead?”

John shook his head. It was a good excuse to go below and find his butcher. “Matey, you have the bridge.”

“Aye, sir.” His first mate took the wheel from him, settling behind it with a grin. John chuckled. He wasn’t the only one who loved to feel the wheel in his hands, the sea beneath him.

He followed Tom down below eagerly. He had taken Grey the night before, the butcher offering himself, asking, then begging, to be taken. It had been delicious—the surrender so sweet, earned. Just taking Grey would have been fun, but it would have broken that spirit that aroused him so. This had given him the best of both. He had played his game well and won.

They had both won.

He left the lantern with the lad outside the door as he went in, trusting Grey would have lit something in the cabin.

Grey was sleeping, clad only in a nightshirt, the man’s regular clothes washed and hung to dry. It must have been a bloody day for him. There was a single candle on the table, a tray there with bread and a hank of cheese, two mugs of ale. Slim pickings indeed if this was the best of their fare.

Tomorrow they would make a run at Santa Maria, but not the town itself. There were farms on the island and they’d grab some livestock and other stores.

He swigged down half his ale and stripped out of his shirt and his boots before going to sit at the edge of the bed. His hand slid along Grey’s shoulder. It made him chuckle, how the man could do the things they did together, but would never climb naked into bed to sleep.

Grey sighed softly, shifting lazily upon the sheets. His butcher really was a sensual man. John could scarcely believe that Grey had successfully kept that hidden not only from others, but from himself as well. He thought once again that civilized men had such stupid ideas of what was proper and right, they imprisoned themselves in rules and regulations—such nonsense.

Bending, he licked Grey’s lips, then nipped the bottom one sharply.

Those bright eyes flew open, Grey’s hands sliding up his arms. “Beast!”

He moaned and slid their lips together, enjoying the way Grey’s body reacted to his so instinctively. His hand tugged at Grey’s nightshirt, pulling it up to bare the pale legs. Those legs spread, sliding open, making an offer.

His moan was low, pleased, and he slid his hands up along Grey’s legs, letting his fingers linger on the soft skin of Grey’s inner thighs. His own erection pushed at his breeches as his tongue invaded the sweetness of Grey’s mouth.

“You…you have food to eat, Beast. A meal.” Grey clung to him, lips meeting his again and again.

“I find the meal in my bed far more appetizing than the one on the table.”

He slid his breeches off and pushed Grey’s nightshirt right up, exposing the little, rosy nipples. Bending, he tasted one, purring at the clean, musky flavor. So sensitive, Grey moaned, chest pushing right up into his lips. The little nipple hardened beneath his tongue and he lapped at it, fingers sliding up to fondle Grey’s soft, warm balls. The sac was wrinkled, hairless, the orbs within it heavy, beginning to tighten.

Grey began to move, to rock under his touch, his lips, moans coming more and more frequently. Groaning, John moved to the other nipple, licking at it, nipping occasionally and loving the way it made Grey jerk and cry out. He slid his fingers behind Grey’s balls, teasing along the heated, velvet skin. Hot, swollen, that sweet hole nearly throbbed under his touch.