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Blonde hair turned a light shade of chestnut as sea mist damped curls, mixing with sweat on the young prince’s flushed face as he struggled against the tough rope securing him to the mast. Captured by fucking pirates, just his fucking luck. Curse his father and his guards, weren’t those idiots trained in the military? How on earth had these ruffians managed to get the prince from his quarters without anyone being alerted?
And here he was, tied to the mast of a pirate ship, his sleep shirt ruffled and his hair messy. They had drugged him, or something, because he had woken up being roughly manhandled by a bulk of a man with a scruffy beard, his hands tied as he was pressed against the huge pillar of wood. He had struggled, but he was weaker than the pirate, who pushed him down with calloused hands, staring at him with coal-smeared eyes that said “don’t try it”.
The prince was by no means weak. He could joust, he could fence, he had fought knights and princes alike, but he was not one trained in the lowlife sport of boxing, or anything knuckle-splitting; princes were trained to fight with a crown poised on their head, not with blood dripping down their face, with calculated poise rather than sluggish punches. Give him a sword, and he could attempt to best the pirates, but they were strong and had heavy pistols hanging from their gold-adorned belts. He feared that if he tried anything, he’d end up with a bullet in his head.
“Turn her starboard, Bad!” The ruffian who had tied him up yelled to the man handling the ship’s wheel, who yelled back a response. The prince was ignored by the crewmates for the most part as they went about their tasks, three of them hauling sacks of golden coins and precious jewelry, supposedly stolen from the same palace they took the prince from, while others handled the sails or polished swords and cleaned guns. The moon was high in the sky; he had been snatched straight from his bed in the dead of night, the air was cold against his sweaty skin, the pirates swathed in heavy coats while he shivered in his night wear.
Everyone was joking and laughing as they worked, glad to have had a successful heist, the prince guessed. Why on earth they took him was beyond his knowledge - perhaps they would ask the King for money for him back, or perhaps they’d just kill him for the hell of it. He grit his teeth at the thought. He was far too young to die. And the pirates didn’t even seem to care for him, they were just… pointing and murmuring, laughing at how pathetic the little king looked now.
But the laughter and chattering calmed down as a heavy door creaked open, and the prince turned his head, curious as to what had shut them up. Golden oil-lamp light spilled out from behind a door to a cabin beneath the quarter deck, a pale hand holding the lamp in front of a slim figure clad in a white shirt, a gold-buckled belt holding up his trousers, a sword hanging sheathed from his hip. His features weren’t as rough as you’d expect for a pirate, but he had a wicked scar from above his eyebrow that extended down to the corner of his lip, his eyes - although the prince’s vision was limited - two different shades, his mouth warped into a wicked, cocky smirk. His boots clicked against the deck, over the silence of the crew, as he approached the bound prince.
“Well well. Good job, lads,” His voice was softer than expected, but there was a taunting edge to it. His cheeks were speckled with rough, dirty brown stubble, and his hair was fluffy brown, peeking from underneath the tricorn hat he wore. “Got ourselves a hostage, and I hear he’s pretty important.”
“He’s the king’s son, captain.” That same rough man who had held the prince down spoke up, the smirk on the captain’s face becoming impossibly wider at the words.
“Incredibly well done to you, Sap,” he grinned, stepping closer to the prince. He flinched away as the captain’s rough fingers touched his chin, trying to pull away, only to have his jaw grabbed roughly, forced to look the man in the eyes. “Well, little prince, how has my crew been treating you?”
The prince only looked at him with fear in his emerald eyes, and the captain cackled wickedly. “Aw, have you all scared him? Poor thing,” his fingers tightened their grip, making the blonde whimper. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”
The grip loosened enough for him to be able to speak, anger dripping from the words, hot and red and enraged. “I am the crown prince of Manburg, how do you not know my name?” He spat, much to the captain’s displeasure, evident by the way his hand moved down to the beating pulse point on the prince’s neck, pressing him against the mast with such force that he felt dizzy.
“I don’t care much for Manburg,” he drawled, handing his oil lamp to a crewmate and drawing his sword. The rough palm of his hand was replaced with cool steel of a scimitar, pressing just hard enough to be a threat. “I don’t care much for any kingdom outside of the sea, sweetheart. So be nice, and introduce yourself to my crew, hm?”
He really had no choice.
“D-Dream. My father calls me Dream,” He stuttered out, the nickname sounding childish in front of these rough, bloodthirsty men. The captain chuckled, a wicked glint in his eyes.
“Lovely to meet you, Dream. I’m Captain George Davidson. Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I’d kiss your hand as they do in the court, but, well,” he leaned in and placed a cold kiss on Dream’s cheek, the prince wanting to recoil at the feeling. “That’ll have to do.”
“What’re we gonna do with him, Cap?” A shorter crewmate asked, his hands holding a bloody rag which he was using to clean off what looked like a wood-splitting axe. George cocked his head to the side as he looked the prince up and down, his white and brown eyes threatening.
“Well, Q, I think for now… untie him, and bring him to my quarters.” He shot a wink at Dream.
“ Wh- what? ” Dream spoke, indignated, barely heard over the crew’s violent eruption into laughter at their leader's words. They sounded smug, the one with the axe saying “little prince doesn’t know what he’s got himself into” as he swiftly cut the ropes binding Dream’s torso. The gruff one, “Sap”, grabbed him by the back of his collar, the way you grab a misbehaving puppy, and manhandled him over his shoulder, following the captain into his quarters.
The quarters were… substantially cleaner than he had expected, with a low hanging ceiling and a fire roaring in a corner, the bed - probably the only bed on the ship - shoved next to a window that looked out of the back of the ship. A big table, strewn with maps and compasses, took up most of the space; captain Davidson sat at the chair and put his boots up on the table, sword sheathed again, a golden brown bottle dangling from his fingertips.
“There, Sap,” He gestured to the wall next to the bed, which had an empty coat hook nailed to it. Dream’s eyes widened when he realised what was happening, his tied hands manhandled behind his head by the rough man, more rope looped around his wrists to tie him to the wall. “There we go. Thank you Sap.”
Dream struggled at the binds, gritting his teeth and swearing at the crewmate as he left. “Fuck you. Do you even
know
what my father will do to you? He’ll decapitate you and display your fucking heads for the kingdom to see. He’ll have you publicly executed.”
“Daddy dearest can’t do anything if he doesn’t catch us, sweetheart,” George said, lounging in the chair and taking a swig of amber coloured rum, his jacket removed and his white shirt unbuttoned to show defined collarbones. “And given how unsuccessful he’s been so far, you’re all ours for the foreseeable future.”
Dream grimaced at the idea. How long would he spend with them? Surely his father would have his best men after the pirates, he’d be scouring the sea. “He’ll find me. And when he does, I’ll kill you myself,” He spat at the captain, and again came that cocky laugh, so sure of himself. George stood up, striding towards Dream. “I will. I’ll make sure your crew watches as I cut your throat. I’ll-”
He was shut up, once again, with a hand cutting off his airflow, head hitting the wood behind him with a ‘thunk’, choking as the pirate’s palm hit his Adam’s apple. “Will you, darling?” The captain purred, face so close Dream could smell the honey-rum on his breath. “You’ll kill me? Princes don’t kill people. Pirates, on the other hand, sweetheart, well, I’ve killed. I could kill you right now, if you weren’t so valuable,” He tightened his grip just to prove a point. “So keep that in mind next time you start threatening me.”
His one coloured eye was dark with anger, his whole aura threatening; Dream was sure he wouldn’t hesitate to put a sword through his guts at one wrong word. George smiled at the lack of a spoiled brat response, letting go of the boy’s throat and going back to the maps table. He removed his sword belt and his hat, down to just his shirt, waistcoat and breeches, a pistol firmly strapped to his other hip in a holster. He didn’t remove it.
“Spoiled fucking brat,” He cursed, looking directly at Dream as he said it, walking closer to the blonde again.
“Dirty fucking pirate,” The prince retaliated, eyes narrow and hateful. The captain smirked, getting all up in Dream’s face, breath hot and cheeks pink, trembling with a contained rage.
“Oh I’m dirty alright, sweetheart,” He breathed, voice low. “Dirty in every fucking sense of the word, yeah?” He was whispering in Dream’s ear, the blonde’s eyes clenched shut, knowing the pirate could kill him with one move if he really wanted to. He suppressed a sound, whether it was of disgust or something else, as the pirate bit down on his ear, a hot tongue licking a stripe down the length of his neck, sweaty from the anxiety.
“I’m dirty in every fuckin’ way you could never imagine, dollface,” George murmured, his hand resting on the exposed skin of Dream’s hip, his shirt tugged up because of his tied arms. “Bet no one’s ever touched you like this, huh?” His teeth were sharp as they nipped at the tender skin below Dream’s ear, making him wince. “Little prince, locked away in the castle in his silks and gold jewelry. No fun to be had up there.”
“P-please,” Dream didn’t know why he begged, why his voice was so wrecked when he whimpered out the word. A soft chuckle came from George.
“‘ Please ’ what?” He mused, gripping the skin of Dream’s hip tight. “What is it, hm?” He shifted Dream’s legs further apart with his boot, the prince barefoot, oh so powerless beneath the pirate. His hands moved, one on Dream’s hip and the other holding his chin, both in firm grips. “Never been touched, have you, my lord ? No suitors whisked you away and fucked you?”
Dream didn’t know what was happening. His skin was aflame with molten lava embarrassment, wanting to squirm and hide away but he just couldn’t move. His forehead was wet with sweat, he was trembling, and fuck, his cock was hard. He hadn’t experienced anything like this - sure, he’d had sweaty summer nights where he’d white-knuckle grip his cock, vague images of soft caresses and kisses, but nothing like this. He didn’t know that he could get aroused by being talked down to like this.
He didn’t have time to think as George’s rough hand pressed against the front of his trousers, making him whine in a way he couldn’t suppress, and a soft laugh came out from George’s lips. “Aww, look at you, my lord,” The title was spoken so patronizingly, dripping like honey from his sharp teeth. “All worked up. I’ve barely fucking touched you. What a whore you are, your highness.”
Dream could feel his cock drip precum as the degrading words were said, gasping when George started bruising up his neck with his lips, pressing on his cock. It was so much, it made Dream’s head spin, he couldn’t pull away - he didn’t want to. He just whined as the touches got rougher, as George pulled roughly at his shirt collar, the fabric ripping and exposing his collarbones, canines ripping plum coloured bruises into newly revealed skin. “I-I- Fuck-” The prince cursed, George’s hand roughly gripping his cock over his trousers.
“Dirty mouthed for a royal, aren’t you?” George kept pricking him with these mean little rhetorical questions, his hands like fire on Dream’s skin. His rough fingers made quick work of sliding into his trousers, blunt nails raking red marks into his hips and tickling over his happy trail, Dream’s hips twitching of their own accord.
“Puh- please, please please please,” He stuttered out, feeling his cheeks go molten hot in embarrassment, eyes clenched shut, utterly humiliated. He didn’t even know exactly what he was begging for, his head spinning with lust; he just wanted touch, he’d take anything at this point, all these years of being locked away as the kingdom's eligible bachelor meaning he’d beg for even a pirate to touch him. And God, was George amused, his lips branding his cocky smirk into the skin of Dream’s neck, now painted in a myriad of marks, branding him as the captain’s whore.
“Poor thing, your highness, you must be awfully sore,” Calloused fingers brushed over the sensitive head of the prince’s cock, a high-pitched moan leaving his lips, George laughing as he spread pre-cum over the tip. “Did I do this, my lord? Did the dirty fucking pirate get your cock leaking, hm?”
Dream couldn’t answer, aflame with shame and embarrassment, just whining high in the back of his throat. He gasped when a hand hit his cheek, not hard enough to bruise but hard enough to leave a reddened mark in its wake, and he opened his eyes to see George gazing at him hungrily, a stern look in his one spruce-brown eye. “Fucking answer me when I ask you something, or is the little prince too dumb for that?” Another slap had Dream shaking his head, pathetic whimpers leaving his lips.
“S-sorry, sorry, I- yes, yes, you did this, ‘m, ‘m-” He sobbed, unable to think as George took his cock in his hand, his trousers yanked down to his thighs, watching through tears as George spat on his cock. “Please, please-”
“Please what, sweetheart?” George asked with his other hand still holding Dream’s cheek. “Seems like you’re forgetting my title there, doll. Call me captain when you speak to me, you fucking whore.”
The words stung deliciously, the degrading turn painting Dream in shades of red, but he still had a bit of fight left. “I’m not c-calling
you
fucking
a-anything.
Y-you’re not above me. I’m- I’m not a
whore.
” It was a feeble argument, made worse by his lust-induced stutter, but he didn’t want to submit completely, didn’t want George to get the upper hand (as if he didn’t get it long ago).
George just laughed in a mocking tone, rolling his eyes. “Oh, your highness,” He dug fingernails into the flesh of Dream’s thigh, leaving red crescents in their wake. “You stupid little thing.”
Everything happened too fast for Dream’s lust-addled brain, all he knew was rough hands and his body being thrown onto the white sheets of the captain’s bed, a confused noise leaving his lips interrupted by a moan when his sensitive cock brushed against fabric. “Spoiled fucking whore,” George spat from behind him, his hand pushing Dream’s face into the bed. “Ass up.”
Dream was not in a position to argue, he decided, and even though his legs ached from being tied to a wall, he pulled himself into an embarrassingly submissive pose, whimpering when George stroked his hand over the plump flesh of his ass. Silence hung heavy in the air, Dream wishing George would do something.
And his wish was granted when George moved. The sound hit him before the pain, and he realised George had spanked him, his ass blooming red, stinging in hot pain. And fuck, it made his dick throb in a way that made him question himself. He whimpered, and received another slap, a strong hand grabbing sharply at his hair to pull him up, arms still bound uselessly.
“What’s my fucking name, whore?” And George spat, wet and hot on his face, mixing with Dream’s tears.
“N-nuh-” Dream whined, again just receiving a sharp slap to his reddened ass, moaning loudly.
“Fucking say it, or I’ll put you back on the mast and let the crew fuck you until you can’t fucking talk. They’re pretty desperate after months at sea, and they’re not picky about what hole they get to fuck,” George pushed, hair fisted in Dream’s hair and making him cry out in pain. “Say it.”
“Cuh-
captain
, captain, please please please,” Dream sobbed, feeling filthy and humiliated, spit dripping down his face (his own and George’s), his cock red and leaking heavily, desperate to come.
George smiled in satisfaction, rubbing his hand softly on the red marks on the prince’s ass, before landing another hit. "Still think you're fucking better than me, my lord? Or does it take a spanking to teach a prince his place?" His smugness was evident, and all Dream could do was nod, pitifully agreeing with him.
“H-hurts.” Dream whimpered as George spanked him again, and the captain faked sympathy, rubbing his ass.
“Does it really? You’re so fucking wet, I would’ve thought you enjoyed it. You’re making a mess of my sheets, look.”
And Dream looked, seeing how much his cock was leaking, moaning loudly when George wrapped his hand around it, letting his head fall back into the bed, pathetically rutting his hips into the touch, the slide slick and easy thanks to his mess.
“Poor thing. Want my cock, do you?” Dream nodded, whining “please please please”, hot tears burning his cheeks. “Aw, you beg so pretty,” George praised, his hand leaving Dream’s cock. The prince rutted down into the sheets, not paying attention as the captain stripped himself, too hell-bent on his own pleasure. It was all taken away quickly when George flipped him around again, allowing him to see how the captain was now shirtless, chest lean and peppered with fighting scars. The bulge in his pants made a knot coil in Dream’s stomach, his cock dripping a mess all over his stomach. George smirked as he slid a hand up Dream's chest, ripping what was left of his shirt off to expose the prince completely, before putting a hand on Dream’s neck and leaning in to kiss him, aggressive and hot, shoving his tongue past his lips, his clothed leg brushing deliciously against Dream’s cock.
FIngers were shoved in Dream’s mouth while George used his teeth to get little whimpers from him, biting mark after mark into the prince, ensuring he looked properly ruined.
“Look at you,” He hummed, pushing his fingers down Dream’s throat so that he gagged, smirking softly at the sound. “No one would think you’re a prince like this. If I sent you back out to my crew now they’d think you were some boytoy whore I picked up on the island. It suits you.”
Dream sobbed, covered now in tears and spit, drool running pathetically down his chin. George pulled his fingers away and stood, pushing Dream’s knees apart. “There you go darling, spread your legs for me. Good slut.”
All Dream could do was take it as a spit-covered finger was pressed inside him, head tipping to the side as his breath quickened, screwing up his eyes. He mewled from the mix of pain and pleasure, George’s blunt fingernails pressing marks into his thighs again. “Does that feel good, my lord? Yeah?” He crooked his finger and Dream cried out a ‘
yes, captain
’, breath stuttering. “Not too high ‘n mighty now, huh?
Maybe you're
actually
just a dumb whore who needed to get shown his place, yeah? ‘N that place is
right here,
with your legs spread for the captain.”
Dream only whined, his legs spreading wider as his sleep trousers were completely removed, George holding his thigh tightly as he thrust fingers inside him. “S-so good, please please,” Dream sobbed, the pleasure crashing into him like a tidal wave, hot and heavy and so much, more than he’d ever felt, his body craving more and more and more. God, how the mighty fall, he thought in between the mind numbing thoughts of more more more and please fuck me I need it so bad, briefly realising that he was having his innocence taken by a criminal, someone who had probably killed more people than he could keep track of, and he was fucking enjoying it.
All thoughts were driven from his head when the captain spat on his face, bringing him back to his senses, eyes snapping open. “Look at your captain, whore,” George chided, slapping his thigh hard enough to make it match his bruised ass. “Yeah, that’s it. Pretty little thing, aren’t you? So loud, too. Bet my whole crew’s fantasizing about fucking you, walls are thin around here sweetheart, bet everyone’s down in their quarters with a hand down their breeches getting off to your whore mouth.”
And Dream moaned louder at the thought, moaned at the feeling of three fingers knuckle deep inside him, moaned at being treated as nothing less than the pirate’s plaything. “Sir, captain, pl-please please, w-want-” He was cut off when George’s fingers crooked and touched something inside of him that made his pleasure come to the climax, the loudest moan yet leaving his lips as he came, messy, all over his chest, his entire body feeling like it was on fire. And the captain didn’t stop.
“Messy whore, look at you. Didn’t even need a hand on your cock?” George cooed, dragging his spare hand through the mess on Dream’s chest and shoving his messy fingers into the prince’s mouth, so far back that he gagged again, tears streaming from his eyes at the overwhelming sensations. “That’s it, take it all. What a good slut you are, your majesty.”
Dream gurgled around the fingers, drool and his own cum dripping from his lips, trying to speak. George allowed him, fingers still inside him, sending sparks up his spine as he gently rubbed them over that spot that made Dream feel electrified. “ Please, c-captain, want you, w-want your cock, please please please.”
George grinned, pulling his fingers out so he could pull down his own breeches, and fuck, Dream drooled at the sight of his cock, thicker and longer than his own, definitely big enough to make him feel stretched. “I want you on your front, whore,” George said, stroking his cock gently, his hair messy and falling in his eyes. He was so handsome, dangerously so, and Dream mourned the fact that he’d be facing away from him, laboriously turning over with his hands tied. George tutted. “No no, knees on the floor. Bend over the bed for your captain, there’s a good toy.”
Dream’s sensitive cock brushed painfully against the bedsheets as he did what he was told, teary eyes pressed into the white cotton. One of George’s hands went to his hair, and the other held his cock as he pushed the head into Dream’s hole; Dream whined and writhed as the length pressed into him, thick and big and leaving a dull ache in him.
“Please please,” He whined, craving so much more, craving fullness. “I- mm! W-want your cock-”
“God, shut the fuck up, will you?” George shoved his head into the mattress with a growl. “Demanding fucking whore, I know you want my cock, and I’ll give it to you, but the only thing I want coming out of your pretty mouth is those noises you were making.”
And with that, he thrust his cock into Dream, making the blonde cry out, panting as he tried to regain his breath, his whole body feeling aflame from the feeling. The pirate grunted as he bottomed out, rocking his hips slowly, and Dream couldn’t hold back his noises, making pathetic little whimpers which turned into obscene moans when George pulled his hips back and started fucking him properly, spitting onto Dream’s hole to slick up his thrusts. Dream moaned into the sheets with vigor, pain reverberating through his reddened ass as George’s hips pistoned in and out of him.
“Look at you, your highness, take my cock so well. Should just quit being a prince and be the court’s fucktoy instead, don’t you think?” George managed to somehow speak through his rough thrusts, teeth gritted, hands grabbing Dream’s hips. “If only they could all see you now huh? Just a dumb cockslut, letting me take you so easy, needy little thing.”
“C-captain- fuck!” Dream swore as George’s cock hit the same spot that made him keen, drooling messily. “Fuck fuck fuck, please-”
“Yeah baby you like that?” He fucked into the spot over and over, his hand fisting in Dream’s hair. Dream moaned, and fuck he sounded so girly, so ruined, no better than the girls in too much greasepaint and pushed up tits on the streets of the kingdom, and he couldn’t find it in himself to care. George chuckled at the lack of response, landing another hard slap on Dream’s poor sore cheeks. “While you being fucked too dumb to speak is adorable, I asked you a fucking question.”
“Y-yes, I love it, love your cock.” Dream sobbed, his mind completely lost to pleasure. George was relentless, every thrust deep and hard, sinful sounds and swears dropping from his lips as he fucked Dream until all the prince could do was whine and beg.
Dream’s cock was rubbing against the sheets, slide slickened by his own messy stomach and pre-cum, and he knew he was close again, his body feeling spent and used, covered in bruises. He looked owned, claimed, tainted, marked up by an infamous captain.
“God, you’re fucking tight,” George huffed out, his thrusts slowing but still deep, his body now draped over Dream’s, breath right in his ear. “Should just keep you here on the ship as our personal plaything, hm? Reckon you’d like that, sweetheart.”
Dream nodded pathetically, unable to think beyond being stuffed full of cock. George chuckled, languidly fucking him with deep thrusts, his breath heavy. “Fuck, I wanna come on your face,” He panted, and Dream full on sobbed when he was no longer full, being manhandled so he was kneeling in front of George, both of their cocks leaking and aching for release. “Mouth open, pretty boy.”
All Dream could do was sit there and take it as George came all over his face, making him look even more tainted and claimed, his lips stained with the white substance. George panted heavily, looking down at him with hooded eyes, smirking. “Swallow.”
And of course, Dream did.
“Good boy,” The captain smiled, eyes darting down to Dream’s lap, the prince’s cock coloured an angry red with the need to come. “Poor thing, look at you, was me fucking you not enough? Need me to touch your cock?”
Dream nodded pitifully, tears dripping down his face, a true masterpiece of fucked-out eyes and reddened lips. George lowered himself to Dream’s level and wrapped a hand around his cock, and Dream couldn’t stop himself from fucking into his hand even if he tried, eyes clenched shut and moans spilling from his lips. “Th-thank you captain, thank you thank you-”
George only smiled and tightened his grip, and soon Dream was coming messily all over the pirates fingers, his body collapsing against the bed once his orgasm subsided. The captain hummed and stood, cleaning his hand on the soiled sheets, before grabbing his clothes.
“I’ll send someone in to see to you, sweetheart,” He said as he pulled on his shirt, Dream only whining, feeling empty and fucked out. George got dressed and pressed a soft kiss to Dream’s cheek, the prince leaning into the touch. “I’ll be back for you later, your highness.”