Chapter Text
He barely felt the intrusion, but arched his back and groaned like it was the biggest he’d ever had. The weathered man behind him dug dirty fingernails and calloused hands into the flesh of his hips and pulled so they met together in a base slap of skin. Charles shook his head to make his rusty curls dance in time to his thrashing.
“Oh m’lord,” he moaned, high and sweet, “m’lord please!” The heavy breathing of his current visitor picked up its pace to match the hard pounding while Charles’ bed whined at its rough treatment. “Oh sir, yes! Just like that, oh!” he squealed, squeezing the small length of the man between his legs. His current lord and master for the hour grunted his appreciation and began to slap him soundly on the ass, much to Charles’s delight. The firm contact sent waves of pleasure through his skin and reddened all four of his cheeks.
“You’ve been a naughty cunt, I’ll wager,” the man said in a rough voice, lower than the one that had agreed to payment and been led into the little room Charles called his own. Charles whined his assent, pouting his painted lips as he looked behind himself.
“Taking all kinds of cock while I’ve been away—” Abruptly Charles was pulled off the wrinkled sheets to sit deep on the man’s lap. He squirmed in slow languid circles, enjoying the connection and stretch. He was small and men who patronized this establishment, most of them burly seamen of one trade or another, loved to manhandle him.
“I’m surprised you’re not all stretched out like a common whore,” he murmured in Charles’s ear. His hands curved around his thighs, tracing the wet and swollen lips of his labia where they dripped and hugged his cock. He dragged a finger up to Charles’s half-hidden clit and tapped a rhythm, the strength of his fingers sent a jolt and wave of moisture through Charles that made him gasp. “I’m surprised I can still do it for you,” he growled, pressing a curled knuckle against the little nub. Charles gasped and moaned as his legs shook.
“M’lord yes! Oh yes!” He turned his head to press heated open-mouth kisses to the man’s thick neck as he shivered. “You’re the best,” he insisted, doing his best to bounce in the man’s lap and make that finger press a little harder. “The best I’ve ever had,” he confided in a whisper — as he did with all his clients who requested such fantasies.
“Pretty lies from a pretty face,” the man hissed as he pushed Charles roughly off him, back onto the bed and onto his back. He wasted no time guiding his cock back inside, his heavy balls smacking against his raised legs. Heavy hands ran over Charles’s chest, squeezing and tweaking and tonguing the red nubs, already forming stiff peaks. The rhythm of his thrusting was increasing, the shallow beats not quite enough for him, but still pleasurable. Charles dragged fingers through the man’s brown hair, gently scratching his scalp. He met the man’s eyes with his own and bit his lip coyly. “M’lord,” he whined, blinking back manufactured tears. “Please! It’s too much!”
The man grunted and pulled out, stroking his full length in one hand as he watched Charles’s face. “Please, m’lord.” Charles whispered looking down demurely, long lashes used to their full effect. “Let me be good for you.” The man’s round face was leathered and red from years spent outdoors but the light in his eyes and cruel smirk on his lips was like any man who believes he’s owed something.
“Aye,” he said, darkly. “If you can.” With that he continued his frantic rutting. Charles moaned and gasped and fed his ego as his pussy pulsed and his hips jerked. He pulled Charles’ legs up to his shoulders, pistoning down into his wet hole as far as he could. Charles panted, pinching his own nipples and thrashing his head. The hand not gripping Charles’s leg, shot out and grabbed him by the chin, forcing his mouth open. Two thick fingers entered him and pressed down on his tongue. Charles fought against his gag reflex, twitching and crying in earnest.
In two shuddering thrusts the man came with a drawn out groan, folding Charles in half and flattening him against the bed. After a few beats, Charles gently licked and sucked the fingers still in his mouth before pulling off of them with a final kiss. He turned his face into the man breathing heavily into his shoulder.
“M’lord?” He asked sweetly, running a hand down his back, uneven with scars, curious ink markings and hair. Before Charles could catalogue the tattoos, his client rolled over, an arm over his face. His cock wrenched without ceremony from Charles’s opened hole, connected for a moment by a thin thread of liquid. Charles sat up on his elbows against the headboard.
“Thank you m’lord,” he said. “Will you be needing anything else?” The man cracked an eye open and sighed heavily before responding, “I need that tight cunt of yours to come to sea with me,” he grinned, rolling over to pet Charles’s bed-mussed hair. “This sailor’s life is too damn lonely.” Charles pouted in sympathy.
“Yes, I can’t imagine what it must be like out there. All those strapping young men but marry a quim to stick it in,” he laughed, stretching into the petting. Outside the little room, the church bells began their hourly song. “Mmm I guess this is goodbye for now, m’lord,” Charles said, turning to rise and prepare himself for the next paying customer.
“Aye so it is,” the sailor said, as he tucked himself away and put his clothes to rights. “But if you find yourself cruising the docks, you keep a look out for the Neptune’s Cutlass.”
Charles sat in front of his dressing table, running a wooden comb through his hair. He looked at the man through the small looking glass attached to the wall. “Now that’s a dangerous sounding name,” he said. The sailor grinned. “Most dangerous bitch on the seas, and that’s the truth. I speak as the old lady’s master gunner,” he said, puffing up with pride at the title.
Charles turned around and exaggerated his astonishment as he rose to meet the man at the door. “Truly? Well, sir I shall keep an especially keen watch for the Cutlass. When do you leave port?” He ran a light finger down the sailor’s chest. “Perhaps I will see you once more you before you set off?” He grabbed Charles’s hand and brought it to his bearded mouth for a kiss that carried a surprising amount of emotion.
“If only fate were kinder. But no, we set sail tomorrow at morning watch.” Charles lowered his gaze, pressing himself against the stoutness of the man. “Then I shall pray for safe seas and quick return.” He raised on his toes to plant a kiss on the sailor’s cheek. “See you soon, Master gunner,” he said, opening the door and standing to the side.
The gunner nodded solemnly and slowly made his way past Charles, out into the cramped hallway with it’s worn rugs and draft. He closed the door with a soft snap once the square mass of hardened seaman disappeared down the stairs.
His eyes flicked to the window, the tall masts, sails and flags standing tall and proud against the gray clouds of the afternoon and he began to pack.