The Butcher and the Beast (3 page)

“Perhaps it is you who make no sense. Has that occurred to you?” He must be feverish, trying to get into a battle of wits with a doctor.

“Of course not! I am a learned man, well-versed in logic.”

“Yes, yes.” John was bored of the rhetoric at this point and tired, his wounds aching—especially his damned thigh, no thanks to the doctor—and he wasn’t up to simply taking what he wanted and enjoying it. “The brilliant Butcher. You’ll have quite the tale to tell when you are finally released, though I imagine you’ll keep the best parts to yourself.”

“The best parts?” The man was either truly innocent or the best actor upon the seas.

“You’ll find out, Butcher. All in good time.”

“Your thigh is bleeding.” The man went from scared to sure faster than the wind. The doctor unfastened the bandage then worked in a soothing salve.

It felt good enough, in fact, that he refrained from pointing out that if the good doctor hadn’t been poking it in the first place…

“Dammit, man—what’s your name?” John demanded.

“Doctor Stephen Grey.” The butcher wrapped another bandage around his wound.

“Grey the Butcher,” he muttered. It had a good ring to it. The man would make an excellent pirate.

“
Doctor
Grey.”

Stubborn bastard. Beautiful, stubborn bastard.

John chuckled. “Of course.”

Those stormy eyes met his, so tumultuous. “If you refrain from attacking me, perhaps your wound will heal.”

“I believe you attacked me, Grey. With that god-awful statue.”

“I’m your captive. I’m supposed to attack you.”

Oh, a sense of humor! Impressive.
John chuckled, lying back, eyes closing despite his best efforts. The doctor’s cool hand fell on his forehead.

“Rest, you pirating bastard.”

He turned his head toward John’s hand, murmuring, the touch surprisingly comforting.

“What on God’s earth am I to do?” Grey’s soft whisper faded as John sank into sleep.

* * * *

Stephen spent hours carefully tying the captain to the bed, making sure the ropes were strong against the bed posts before binding wrists and ankles. Honestly, he appreciated the need for his help, but it was time to let him go.

He found a kerchief to use as a gag, should he need it, and patted the Captain’s cheeks. “Come now, rise and shine. I need you to tell your men to take me home.” He was rather proud of himself, really. It was a clever plan.

The Captain moaned, the sound surprisingly sultry, almost wanton. He readied the gag, carefully wetting the captain’s lips. The blue eyes opened and the captain shifted, frowning as he couldn’t move.

“Shh. I don’t wish to gag you. I don’t wish to harm you at all. I simply wish to return home. You
must
understand.”

One of the captain’s eyebrows went up and he started to chuckle. “Oh, Butcher, I do admire your pluck.”

“Well, that’s something, indeed.” Stephen met those eyes, trying to make the man see reason. “All I ask is that you tell your men to return me to Santa Maria. I will tell no one who kidnapped me. I will do you no harm.”

“No.”

He clenched his fist, almost shaking. “Why will you not listen to reason?”

“I have no need to listen to reason, only to my desires.”

“I have you bound. You are my prisoner, now. Does that mean nothing to you?” His heart pounded deep in his chest, thrumming.

“I am your prisoner for as long as I allow it and no longer.”

Well, now, that made no sense. “The ropes are sure, sir. I vow it.”

The captain growled, arms flexing. Then there was a roar and the bedpost holding the captain’s right hand secure split, tearing from its base.

“You are quite correct. The ropes are sure.”

Stephen blinked, staring, completely taken aback. “Bloody hell.”

The captain laughed. “Oh, poor Butcher. Good for you for trying.”

He was speechless. Utterly. Completely.

“One thing you need to realize, Grey. I am the captain and this is my ship. Things will go my way here.”

“I…” Stephen backed away, unbelieving.

“You are a sweet, innocent boy, far away from your much beloved civilization. You will learn to appreciate my allure. I am sure.” The captain shook off the bedpost, then the rope, and began to untie the rest of his limbs.

“I…” Stephen swallowed hard, heading toward the door, praying that by some happenstance it would be unlocked. It wasn’t, and the captain’s laugh filled the small room. Panic suffused him, his vision going sparkly around the edges.

It wasn’t long at all before he was pressed up against the door, the captain’s long, hard body against his back. “Even if you escaped, Butcher Grey, there’s nowhere to go.”

His breath came quick and shallow, heart trip-hammering within him.
Please. Please
. He only wished to return home. The captain growled softly and rubbed against him, something hard and hot poking at the small of his back.

“R-release me. Y-you’re wounded.” Stephen tried to shrink away, wincing.

That maddening chuckle came again. “I am not that wounded.”

“You are mad.”

“Perhaps.”

His shirt was pulled away from his neck and something hot and wet slid along his skin. The captain’s tongue.

“What are you? Stop!” Stephen twisted, trying to break free.

The captain let him twist, but only enough so that now it was his back pushed up against the door. The captain’s lips covered his, the kiss hard, fierce.

Stephen cried out, stunned and scared, and he beat his hands against the captain’s strong shoulders.
Never!
He had never even… He was a gentleman!
Beast!
The only result his efforts seemed to afford him was to be pressed more tightly between the door and the captain. The kiss never broke, the captain pushing his tongue into Stephen’s mouth and sweeping through it.

Stephen made desperate sounds, fighting with all he was. Never in his life had he been so truly frightened, so scared that he thought he would not bear it. The captain just swallowed each sound, making purring noises, rubbing that hard cock—oh sweet lord, it was the man’s penis that was hard and hot and poking against him—into his belly. He sucked in his stomach, pulling into himself, trying to escape that maddening touch. The next affront was the captain’s hands, pulling open his blouse, tearing it apart.

“No! Unhand me! Help! Someone, please! He’s gone mad!” With a sudden burst of strength he slid free, tearing his skin as he tore past the hinges and put a chair between himself and the madman.

The dark eyes were hot, amused, pinning him to the spot. “You are a fiery one. I like that.” The captain stalked toward him.

Stephen grabbed whatever was in reach, hurling things at the encroaching man. “Help me!”

The captain batted each incoming object away with ease and pulled the chair away from him. “Now what?”

“I… You’re a beast.” He feinted toward the door, then scrambled for the bed, grabbing one of the posts and staggering under the weight.
Good lord
.

The captain grabbed the other end and tugged it from his hand. “Excellent choice. The bed is much softer than the wall or the floor.” He was pushed down onto his back on the mattress, the mad pirate following him down, pressing against him.

The room was whirling, his heart pounding. “Let me go.”

“But Butcher Grey, can you not tell I have need of you?” The captain ground their hips together, cock hard and insistent against him.

“You have need of a clergyman, to help you excise this demon.”

“I am at peace with my inner demons, Butcher. Are you?”

Before he could answer, the captain again brought their mouths together, tongue invading him. Stephen’s eyes met dark blue, his entire being so confused, so scared, so completely overwhelmed by situation and happenstance. His captor’s groan vibrated in his mouth and the captain slid a hand along his ribs, the touch firm, but not painful.

Stephen tried to shift away from the touch, tried to shrink away. However much he pulled away, though, the captain’s hand just followed. Then one thick thumb slid across his nipple, the nail dragging slightly. A bright sensation filled him and he jerked away, crying out. The rogue’s eyes twinkled down at him and the touch was repeated.

“Stop!” Tremors moved through his body.

“Why?” The captain stroked that finger across his nipple again.

“It’s unnatural. I do not belong here.” His voice sounded rough, husky, scared.

“Your point?” murmured the pirate and plundered Stephen’s mouth again, his other nipple treated to the same rough touches. He was breathless, burning alive. His captor half rolled off him, giving him hope, but instead of leaving him be, the captain pushed a hand into his breeches, grasping his shaft.

“No!” No one had ever touched that but him. No one ever!

“Yes,” insisted the pirate captain, moving his hand relentlessly.

To Stephen’s mortification, his body began to respond, fill. He closed his eyes, thinking of the most vile things, squeezing his legs tight around his testicles so they ached.

Control
…

The captain’s good leg pushed between his, spreading them as that hand continued its torture.

“Please. Please, do not do this.” His member filled and grew for the vile touch, eager without his giving it leave.

“I do as I please.”

Stephen screamed, spending the last of his fading energies to rail and hit, wriggle and fight. The pirate moaned, hard shaft sliding against his side as his own was pumped mercilessly, the captain seeming to be spurred on by his struggles.

His hips were jerking, trying to…to pull away from the touch. He could not manage it, though. No matter what he did, he was truly trapped, caught between the captain’s body and that big hand tugging him faster and faster.

Rolling his eyes and baring his teeth, Stephen fought the urge to thrust, to buck, to beg. The captain bent to lick at his teeth, to bite at his lips, that hard erection at his side pushing harder and faster against him. No less hard and fast was the hand upon him, drawing his need into his balls, insisting on his surrender, demanding his completion.

Heat poured through his body, exploding from his member, the musky smell of seed dizzying, infuriating…devastating.

The captain gave a triumphant roar, hand wiping his seed upon his chest as that hot cock pushed even harder along his side. Then, with another roar, the pirate took his own pleasure, shaft throbbing against him, splashing him with heat.

Stephen rolled away, curling into himself with a low moan, holding the tattered edges of his shirt together. The captain gave a satisfied grunt and shoved him to the inside of the bunk, trapping him again between the hull and his solid body.

It was only moments later when the snores began, one of the captain’s hands lying across his hip.

He closed his eyes, drawing his knees beneath his chin, exhausted, undone.

At sea.

Chapter Three

The next time John woke, he felt far better than he had in days. His wounds throbbed not nearly as badly and his body thrummed with life, with excitement. His shaft was hard, needy—no doubt due to the warm body curled up against the wall.

Ah, the good doctor proved to be such entertainment. He’d heard the rheumy Butcher Patterson had passed away from too much drink and had been delighted to find Grey in the man’s stead. The man had spirit, good looks and, unless he had it wrong, was a virgin to boot. Grey was just the diversion he needed. The man was flexible, as well, curled into a tiny ball, thin spine and hips the only thing exposed. He reached out and traced the knobby spine, humming at the sensation of warmth beneath his fingertips.

A soft moan sounded, the skin rippling under his fingers. Such delicate skin, such a delicate and civilized upbringing. Such delicate sensibilities. He loved that look of shock and dismay and fear the doctor had sported. It would be a lovely fight, taking this one, taming him.

The good doctor began to wake, pulling away from his touch. Chuckling, he rolled to his side, ignoring the stitch in his chest as he snuggled into Grey. The little ball of man tightened even further, a quiet noise sounding.

He rubbed his erection against Grey’s ass, groaning at the heat of the man. Grey would be tight. So very tight. “You’re mine, Grey,” he murmured. “Mine to do with as I will.”

“No.” The pretty curls bobbed as Grey shook his head.

He chuckled at Grey’s protest, amused to the bone.
Such fun.
“Yes. All mine.”

“No. I am betrothed. I am employed by another.”

“Your affianced and employer may both have what’s left of you once I tire of you.” He leaned in and bit Grey’s shoulder, closing his lips to suck around the wound, pulling up a fantastic mark. Grey shuddered, uncurling and crying out, pulling away and leaving the rent shirt in his fingers. The mark he’d left was already dark red—it would be purple with his teeth marks by morning. He pressed his thumb into it. “Most excellent, Butcher.”

“I am no butcher! Don’t touch me!”

“That refrain is beginning to wear. As for touching…” He rolled Grey back toward him. “I will touch you whenever I want.”

The fight began again, the thin limbs working desperately, increasingly weak. John took the lovely mouth, bruising the good doctor’s lips as he drove his shaft along the man’s belly. The low cries of protest were heady, Grey pushing at his shoulders, his hips.

“Fight me harder,” he demanded, wrapping a hand around Grey’s cock again.

“Don’t touch me!” The doctor leaned forward, biting his shoulder, kicking furiously. A shudder went through him as the doctor’s teeth sank into his skin. He pinched Grey’s nipples, one then the other, humping madly against the writhing, kicking body. Grey was like a wild thing beneath him, trying to escape his touch. He pressed in for another kiss, climaxing as the man bit him.

“Beast.” Grey’s lips were bloodied, bruised.

He moaned, bending to lick at those lovely lips. His debauched angel was so lovely. Panting and gasping, Grey shifted away. He let Grey move away from him and lay back again. “Well, I’ve an appetite. I’m sure you must have too, Butcher.”