Chapter Text
The Warwick's cruise being what it was - through the pirate-infested waters of the West Indies - James expected to see action. The blue of his dearly-won lieutenant's coat was still bright and unfaded by the sun, with nary a smudge or a stray stitch on it. It marked him out among the rest of the officers, and there were whispers across the ship as to what could have possibly taken him so long. Twenty-seven was hardly an unheard of age to receive the promotion, but it was late - and for James, who boasted near two decades in the Navy from his first post of midshipman at the tender age of eleven, it was later than most.
James diligently tried not to blame his slow rise through the ranks on the circumstances of his birth, or his lack of formal education, or the lowbrow accent that sometimes slipped into his speech when he wasn't taking the utmost care with his diction. It was a stroke of luck that along with his new commission had come a posting - a fourth-class, but still a ship of the line, better than the frigate he'd been on before. Still, the other officers had not precisely welcomed him into their ranks. He was invited to meals as was proper - an officer could hardly dine in the mess with the men - but rarely did any of his fellows attempt to engage him in real conversation. It seemed that the mandate of Naval courtesy could only be imposed so far.
So it sent a thrill of excitement through him to hear the shout of "Sail! Black flag!" from the tops.
James' post was still below decks, just as it had been when he was Gunner's Mate, so he could only listen in aching anticipation as hurried talk filtered down from above.
"Beat to quarters! Ready the guns!" Captain Sadler's voice roared out across the deck, and James had to fight down a grin.
"At your stations!" James locked his hands behind his back, watching the men move to their guns. "Mr. Falman, if you please!"
The Gunner roared orders, and James watched his management of the gun deck with an approving eye. The ports were open and the guns run out in short order - James swung up the stairs enough for his head to clear the hatch. "Guns at the ready, Captain!"
"Good work, Lieutenant McGraw," Captain Sadler said absently, peering through the spyglass. "Have the men stand down."
"Sir?" James asked, some of the excitement draining out of him.
"The pirates are pressing sail - they have the wind with them, we'll have a devil of a time catching them. Better to come alongside the merchantman they were pursuing, see if they need our assistance."
James didn't think he should feel disappointed, but he did. A missed action was a hell of a wind-up with no payoff, but he nevertheless went below to order the guns stowed and the men to stand down.
The merchant vessel, the trim little frigate Fancy, had been caught by surprise by the pirates during the night. It seemed they had used the cover of fog to approach, which had saved the merchants in the end, as the ensuing broadside had mostly fallen short, thrown off by the fog. The merchantman pressed full sail and managed to pull away, but the pirates had pursued. Before the arrival of the Warwick, the Fancy's captain had spent a day under full sail - a stressful day indeed, as the man was breathless with thanks.
The Fancy was short provisions and needed to undertake repairs from the near-miss at the hands of the pirates. After a brief consultation - in which the offer of dinner with the officers was made and humbly accepted - Captain Sadler and the Fancy's Captain Hamish agreed to anchor in the cove of one of the smaller Bahama Islands. To all indications on the map, the place was uninhabited.
James watched the merchant crew as their captains conversed. They were a hearty looking assortment of men, many with the weathered tans of long lives at sea. For the most part, they went about their business and didn't seem to care where their course took them. There was one, though, who swarmed down from the tops like he was born to it, not so coincidentally pausing where it would be best to overhear. He was a young man, too old to be called a lad - James judged him to be twenty at the outset. James would have thought him frail had it not been for the plain evidence of corded muscle in his arms. A gust hit the rigging and he only crouched further down, arms wound through the ropes, intent on his eavesdropping. James, who had spent the first four years of his service ruthlessly repressing the cold feeling in his stomach whenever he had to climb the rigging, found that he was impressed.
The man must have sensed someone watching, for his head came up and his eyes scanned the deck of the Warwick. Before James could look away, bright blue eyes fixed on his. The younger man grinned - it was entirely too smug, as if it was inviting James to share in the conspiracy, and before James could suppress it, his lips twitched in the barest echo of that brazen expression. The young man's eyes lit like James had praised his cleverness to his face, and James had to tear himself away before someone caught him staring.
The obligatory dinner was taken early, at the customary Naval hour, and passed without a hitch. Only the Fancy's captain had been invited, none of his mates, which left Captain Sadler to carry the conversation and the other officers to entertain themselves. James was on the fringes of the conversation as usual, but on this occasion it suited him.
He found his mind wandering to the young merchant sailor, to the mischief and wicked cheek in his grin. James was not ignorant to his own desires, though he took great pains to ensure everyone else was, and he could not deny that he was intrigued. It would not do - despite knowing that it was hardly uncommon for men to satiate their desires with each other while at sea, circumstances necessitated that James be eminently cautious. The well-bred gentlemen he served with would take any excuse they could find to have him out, and this one would win him a noose besides.
It wasn't as if James was hard done by. He'd engaged in carnal relations a handful of times - not quite enough that he needed both hands to count them on - and they had all, without exception, been rather lackluster. He had never understood the men bemoaning long cruises at sea without a willing woman to take the edge off. 'The edge,' as they put it, was more like a mild annoyance than a desperate drive. So James would remain intrigued and distant, and perhaps one day the young man would make it into his occasional fantasies.
His carefully laid plans were dashed as they finally did put ashore, and Captain Sadler saw fit to give the crew of the Warwick leave while the Fancy undertook its repairs. There was no reason to keep more than a skeleton crew aboard in shifts, and Captain Sadler had been a Navy man long enough to know that keeping a crew within sight of land without letting them off the confinement of the ship was a recipe for discontent, brawling, and drunkenness.
Not that brawling and drunkenness didn't occur on shore. James barely touched the strong rum the merchantmen broke out from the Fancy's hold, disliking the way being drunk made him feel. It didn't stop the rest of the men or officers, and fairly soon both crews were all but insensate on the white sandy beach, exchanging lewd drinking songs and boasted stories well into the night.
James stayed somewhat apart from the rest, trusting to his reputation as a reserved, quiet man to keep him from being bothered. He did give in to some informality, doffing his coat and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt so he could lay back on his elbows and watch the stars wheel by overhead. The constellations were different in the lower hemisphere, but after sixteen years at sea, James could put names to them all.
"Gorgeous night," a voice from behind him said, and he couldn't contain his reflex to startle, sitting up and turning around abruptly. It was the young sailor from the rigging, a bright grin on his face and his hands raised palm-out. "Sorry. Didn't mean to scare you."
James found that he had nothing to say in return, his tongue practically leaden in his mouth. The sailor was shirtless, his trousers clinging to his slim hips only by virtue of their worn belt. He stood barefoot in the sand, his curly black hair tousled as if he'd just rolled from his bunk. Overall, it was a look that made him seem as if he'd already been debauched once tonight. James found it hard to resist, even for all his claims that sins of the flesh didn't hold much attraction.
The sailor's grin got wider the longer the silence stretched out between them, until James finally realized that he was expected to make an answer. "Yes," he said finally, clearing his throat when it came out rougher than he'd like.
It made that wicked spark light up in the young man's eyes again, and he folded himself down onto the sand beside James without so much as a by-your-leave. "John Silver," he said, offering his hand.
James, bound by propriety and ingrained Naval courtesy, took it. "James McGraw." The handshake was far from professional - John brushed his fingers against the inside of James' wrist like a caress, one that had James yanking back his hand like he was scalded, politeness be damned.
"All of us are quite grateful to the Warwick and your captain, of course," John said, continuing like he hadn't just extended a blatant flirtation. James stared at him - this brazen young thing was courting the noose and he didn't seem to care a whit. "I'll admit to being a touch more grateful than the others - you can imagine I have a very specific interest in not being captured by pirates."
That was an invitation of a different kind, and James wished fervently he was a more virtuous man even as his gaze traveled over John's bare chest, lingering on the slim line of his throat, the slender bones of his wrists, his comely face. "I can imagine, yes." His pulse started to trip, and to his surprise, he was hardening in his trousers. His other encounters having been what they were, James wasn't prone to embarrassing himself like this. "Excuse me, I-"
"So I'm thinking, after I caught you watching me in the tops, that maybe I should be showing you just how grateful I am," John interrupted, his grin wide and inviting and nearly too sinful to withstand.
"I-" James cleared his throat again when his voice cracked, beginning to be annoyed with himself. "I appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid there are regulations-"
John tilted his head over to the fire and the carousing farther down the beach. "None of them are paying a damn bit of attention to regulations." He stretched his arms above his head, giving James a blatant show of tanned skin and lithe muscle. "If that's your only reason for turning me down, try again."
James would be afraid he was reading signals wrong but for the fact that John was giving him a half-lidded look from beneath his lashes. "Forgive me for saying so," he said dryly, "but courting the noose for a few minutes of mild enjoyment isn't my idea of repayment."
That made John's eyes fly wide, the shocking blue of them fixed on James' face with something akin to horror, his hands falling back down to his lap. "'Mild enjoyment?'" he echoed, sounding horrified at the very thought. "What I have in mind is considerably more than 'mild enjoyment,' Lieutenant, and it will take considerably longer than a few minutes. My God, who have you been sleeping with?"
To his consternation, James felt his cheeks grow hot - he hadn't blushed like this in years, and now this man nearly ten years his junior was making him feel like a coltish, awkward young thing again. "I beg your pardon," he said, indignant. "I hardly believe that to be any of your business."
John was still staring at him. "Oh James," he said, and his tone went straight to James' unruly prick, sounding like the kind of thing that would spill out of his mouth when they were both unclothed with their hands on each other and - James was not imagining that, certainly, not even when John leaned in close enough for his breath to wash over James' ear. "Come with me. Someone as handsome as you shouldn't be having bad sex."
James pulled away from him with a scowl, stung by the notion even though he hadn't previously thought to place any pride on his encounters. "Normally when one's invitation is declined, it is polite for one to cease asking."
"You can't blame me for trying," John said, and there was that heated look again. "Tell me you've ever had someone make you come so hard you saw stars, and I'll leave off. Because if you haven't, it's something you should experience at least once in your life, and I would be happy to be the one to provide it for you. Really," and here he looked James over with unmistakable lust in his gaze, which was more than enough to have James fully hard, "I would be more than happy."
The heat sparking under James' skin was new and thrilling and enough to have him reconsidering his fear of hanging, especially since John seemed utterly convinced in his ability to keep his rather lofty promises. James had always considered himself at least somewhat of a god-fearing man, but he was not infrequently tempted by the sin of wrath. 'All have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,' as the verse went. Surely the sins of lust and sodomy could not be worse than any other.
He was talking himself into it, and James was aware enough to recognize that as the beginning of a downhill slide. John watched him with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and now he looked his age. The confident cheek was just as real as this breathless uncertainty, the way he looked at James like he just wanted so badly he could barely stand it.
James wondered what it would be like to be with someone who wanted him that badly, and just like that, he couldn't bear the thought of parting ways with John before he found out. "Show me."
John's lip was bitten-red and his smile was nearly incandescent. He lunged across the space between them, sliding into James' lap with a sinuous twist of his spine. His mouth was devouring and demanding, his tongue licking its way past James' lips. James shuddered, his fingers clutching at John's bare shoulders, already breathless and hard and eager in a way he couldn't remember ever being before.
"Wait, wait," he gasped, breaking away from the kiss when John started to work his fingers at James' belt. "Someone will see us."
It served to quell some of the feverish squirming John was doing in his lap, and he scrambled to his feet, offering James his hands with a hot, greedy light in his eyes. James took them and allowed himself to be hauled up, kissed again until he was panting, and then steered in the direction of the treeline. It was a small island, but not so small that it didn't boast a copse of palm and fig trees, the shadows of which would serve to hide their tryst well under the dark of night.
John turned them, pressing his back against a tree and pulling James tight against him, fingers clawing at James' clothes. "I want you naked," he said, his breath hot on James' neck. "I want to feel your skin on me. Fuck, I want to feel you in me."
James settled his hands over John's hips merely to have something to hold onto and anchor him - John was like a sudden storm, an unstoppable force, and God, James wanted him. "I've never," he said. Somehow John's eagerness didn't make it a shameful admission, only a statement of fact.
John made a low, wanting noise and redoubled his efforts to rid James of his clothes. "Criminal," he said, nearly as breathless as James. "Not even with a woman?"
"Twice," James admitted. "The experience was somewhat... lacking. And I gather it's not the same with..."
"With a man?" John finished when he trailed off. "You're right about that - different as night and day. Women are all curves and soft places, pretty little noises. Men, though." James was beginning to think the grin never let his face, only changed to suit his mood. Now it wide and greedy, an echo of the look in his eyes when he finally got James' shirt pulled off and thrown aside. "There's nothing quite like a man for pinning you up against something and fucking you brainless."
The bald crudeness of it made James' face heat again. John made a little sound of delight and kissed over his cheeks, the bridge of his nose, down the line of his jaw and over the sensitive flesh of his throat. "Is that what you want from me?" James licked his lips, summoning the buried threads of his confidence. "For me to push you up against this tree and fuck you brainless?"
"James," John said, wavering and a little surprised and certainly interested. He squirmed and rolled his hips, his eyes fluttering shut when they rocked together, cutting off his short moan with his lips on James' skin again. "Would you?" He sounded delighted at the very prospect.
James was suddenly unsure. "I did say I haven't done it before. With a man."
"Darling, you have nothing to worry about," John said - and normally that endearment would feel mocking, but from John it felt sincere, like John had no concern about how James perceived him as long as they were both enjoying themselves. "You asked me to show you, remember?"
"Yes," James croaked, his fingers tightening on John's hips. He started the kiss this time, crowding John against the tree and sucking at his lip. The slide of their bare skin against each other was intoxicating, and yet it was better than any liquor because it was present and real in a way being drunk very much wasn't. He was struck by the urge to get his mouth on all of that tanned skin, and the thought was married to action before he could think to hesitate. John was vocally encouraging as James kissed and licked across his collarbones, applying his teeth to the taut plane of his chest. James' mouth came to his nipple and he couldn't resist sealing his lips over it, pressing with the flat of his tongue and relishing the way it hardened in his mouth.
John's fingers dug into James' hair, nails scraping over his scalp, and James had to break away with a shuddering gasp. "Oh?" John sounded positively delighted. He twisted his fingers in James' hair, just on the edge of painful, and it went straight to James' cock and made it throb. James groaned into John's skin, hips hitching, and John let out a shaky breath. "Sweet Mother Mary. You are perfect. If I hadn't already promised to let you get your cock in me I'd spend hours fucking you. I bet I could make you beg me for it."
"You-" James couldn't think of a descriptor adequate enough for how filthy John's mouth was, and what it did to him, so he bit lightly at John's other nipple, his hands sliding from John's hips to dig into his arse. John's head tipped back against the tree and his mouth fell open to suck air into his chest before laughing breathlessly.
"Whoever you have been going to bed with is a terribly selfish lover." John tugged the hair woven through his fingers again and he rolled his hips hard, pressing them against each other. "You're- why are you still wearing trousers? I believe I said I wanted you naked."
James responded by yanking at John's trousers first, working them open enough for him to get a hand inside. John's cock was hot and thick enough to fill his palm. James stroked it in a slow, tight grip that had John's fingers twisting in his hair. This he had done before - had another man's cock in his hand and brought him off - but John was an eager armful where the other encounter was a rushed mutual convenience.
"James, Christ," John said. He pulled one hand free of James' hair and pawed at his wrist until James stilled his movements, allowing John to catch his breath and fumble at his pocket. "Take this. Get rid of those."
A small glass bottle was pressed into James' hand, and he couldn't help the heat on his cheeks, a sensation that grew stronger when he unbuttoned and let his trousers fall, the both of them now bare under the stars.
John's gaze devoured him, his tongue flashing out to lick his lips, eyes tracing over James' stomach and thighs before coming to rest on his cock. "Oh yes please," he said.
James couldn't help but kiss him at that - it was even better now that there was no more clothing between them, only sweat and skin. John ran his palms over James' chest, the flat plane of his stomach, over his hips. He skimmed the backs of his knuckles over the underside of James' cock, making his breath leave his lungs in something like a wheeze. "There's oil in that." John nodded at the bottle James was now holding in a white-knuckled fist. "You'll want to get it on your fingers."
"I do have some idea of how this is done," James said, but he couldn't summon any stung pride about it, not when John was looking at him with the blacks of his eyes blown wide and his lips parted, drinking in the sight of his body like he just couldn't get enough. James uncorked the small bottle. The oil was slick and viscous over his fingers, but once he had stoppered it again, he hesitated. John made to turn around, and James caught his shoulder.
"A moment," John said, flashing him a teasing smile. "This will be easier."
"I want to see your face," James said. He stepped between John's thighs and caught him up - it was awkward, with one hand slippery and the other still clutching the bottle, but his strength was more than suitable. He'd spent many long years hauling cannons and lines, and John was a slender thing - his legs hitched up around James' waist and his back scooted up the tree with only a small wince, lost in the way his eyes were wide and hungry.
"Yes." John didn't squirm, but he arched his back and squeezed with his legs, tipping his head back to bare the line of his throat. James pressed him firmly against the tree and teased his slippery fingers down the crack of John's arse. He swallowed when John only looked hungrier, his grin wild. With another sinfully graceful roll of the spine, he managed to press back against James' uncertain fingers. "James, yes - do it."
James let out a shaky breath and pressed gently, one fingertip against the tight clench of him, but John only groaned in frustration and tried to take more. James obliged him, his mouth going dry at the way it felt, hot and soft and excruciatingly tight. To have that round his cock - he had to stop thinking about it, or he wouldn't last long enough to get there.
"More, more, damn you - don't tease me, you're exquisite and I need you to fuck me until I scream," John's eyes were half-closed and his words slurred into each other. James had never been with someone who wanted to fuck him, not just anyone convenient. It was addictive.
James eased another finger inside, working them in slow twists until his palm pressed against the swell of John's buttock, his fingers seated to the last knuckle. John groaned, and his tongue flashed out - this time James caught it with his own mouth. He spread his fingers against the tight muscle, easing it and drinking in every noise John made with his mouth.
"Good?" he puffed out across John's lips, seeking to nudge his third fingertip into him.
"Yes, yes, that - yes. Do that." John seemed near beyond words, and James wondered if he would lose coherence entirely when he finally fucked him. His fingers slipped the first time, and John made a desperate noise like James was simply killing him.
"Shh." James pressed his mouth to the side of John's neck, sucking too light to leave marks but hard enough to have him writhing. Up until now, John had been the one with the upper hand, but unraveling all that swagger was far too satisfying for James to let that continue. After all, he judged he had close to a decade of years on his side - long enough to learn a little patience. "I believe I might want to take my time with you."
John laughed, the sound turning into a startled groan midway through when James' third finger finally found purchase and pressed inside. "I knew from the moment I saw you watching me that you would be worth it and you are."
The way John reveled in their touch and closeness was catching, and James rocked against his body while he laved open-mouthed kisses across his neck and the curve of his jaw. His fingers worked slowly, pumping in and out, loosening and slicking the way.
"James." John's nails were digging into James' shoulders, and he tossed his head to one side, gasping. "I can't stand it."
"A little more," James said, smirking into John's collarbone. If the frustrated whine John answered with was any indication, he wanted it desperately and might start begging for it soon. James was nearly dizzy with lust, having John this way. To have someone like this, panting for him, insensate and needing him so badly - it was everything anyone had ever told him sex would be and yet better.
He thrust his three fingers in hard and John made a noise like a high keen, his thighs trembling around James' waist. James flushed hot and groaned into his skin, tongue pressed into the hollow of his jaw, and pulled his fingers free. He couldn't wait any longer to see what John would look like impaled on his cock.
John's eyes opened slowly and he rolled his head back to stare at James, a blindingly eager grin spreading across his face. "Now?"
James struggled with the stopper of the oil - he was still holding John against the tree, supporting the weight on his thighs and forearms while he fumbled blindly. The cork popped and he upended it into his palm impatiently before letting it fall to the dirt. His own touch was almost unbearable after waiting so long, so he made a cursory stroke to spread the oil with thought to how much better it would feel once he was seated deep inside John's body. He nudged the head of his cock against the slick rim of John's hole and grabbed his arse again in both hands, fingers digging in firmly.
"James, dear God," John whined, twisting against the tree with his eyes screwed shut. "D'you want me to - please fuck me, I'll go mad if you don't."
"You are shameless," James breathed, nearly stunned by how gorgeous John's voice sounded when he was so desperate. He shifted his feet wider to give himself leverage and let John drop down slowly. The head of his cock breached into the hot, tight grip of John's body and he forgot to breathe entirely. His head fell forward onto John's shoulder, his entire body flooded with pleasure like warm syrup, centered on the glorious slick feeling snug around his cock.
It wasn't the most comfortable position - James had a feeling his arms would grow tired of taking John's weight before long - but it was absolutely worth it to see the way John's face went slack, his mouth hanging open. His hair was plastered to his skin with sweat, his fingers sliding on the muscles of James' arms, thighs tense around James' waist. John made little hitched gasps every time James worked in deeper. After an excruciatingly long span of moments, they were pressed flush against one another, James' cock seated to its root inside and John clinging to him like he would die if James let go.
James gulped in lungfuls of air and stayed still, unable to stand the friction and the hot squeeze of John's body around him. When the sensation had eased somewhat and he thought he might be able to move without losing himself immediately, he rocked his hips into the cradle of John's thighs.
John moaned, long and half-strangled. He arched his back, trying futilely to push back against James, but James had him in a firm hold. "More," he gasped, his head tipped back against the tree. The line of his throat was too tempting, and James swept his tongue along the beat of John's pulse as he moved again. He was likely being too cautious, but despite how easily John's body had opened for him, he was so tight James couldn't help but feel he would hurt him if he went any faster. And John was tight, and hot, and moaning in his arms, their skin bare and smooth where it slid together, slippery with their sweat. James couldn't keep his mouth from it, tongue and teeth plying against the tendons of John's neck. He kept his pace slow and shallow, wanting to draw it out as long as possible.
"James, fuck," John said, his throat working in a swallow. "I need- you have to go faster." There was a desperate edge to his voice, and James huffed into the skin of his neck.
"I can't go faster or I'll drop you," he said, but he did thrust in more forcefully the next time, wringing a delightful noise from John even as he tossed his head in frustration.
"Could you- if you lie down, I'll ride you." John probably intended it to be seductive, but with the look in his eyes when he finally pried them open was wild and desperate as his voice.
Still, the thought of John moving above him like that was enough to make James reluctantly withdraw and lower him slowly to the ground. To his satisfaction, it seemed to take a moment for John to make his legs cooperate, and then James was tugging him down to the ground as he lay back.
John knelt over him, his hand going to James' cock to steady it, and then sank down with his head tossed back and his thighs flexing. James groaned this time, tingling pleasure shooting up his spine as he was once again wrapped in the slick heat of John's body. It was as good a sight as James had hoped - he fitted his hands around John's waist, fingers spread out across the jutting bones of his hips. John was all wiry muscle and unmarked skin.
James slid the hand that was still slick with the remnants of oil over the flat plane of John's stomach to his cock and wrapped his fingers around the length of it. "You said you wanted faster," he said, proud of the way his voice rasped only a little.
"Yes." John's thighs flexed, the muscles of his stomach rippled, and he raised himself halfway off James' cock before he let himself fall back down, impaling himself. James shouted, his head falling back against the ground. John did it again, then leaned forward to brace his hands on James' chest. His pace quickened, though he still dropped his weight back down on James' cock like he wanted it to spear straight through him.
James forced his eyes open to see, not wanting to miss a single moment of how glorious John looked like this, a tiny sliver of bright blue around the dark of his pupils, his lips parted, hair falling into his face. James brought his hand up to settle on the John's cheek, thumb brushing over his wet, parted lips. A flash of that familiar wicked amusement lit in John's eyes and he turned his head just a little, catching James' thumb in his mouth. He closed his lips around it and flicked his tongue over the very tip.
"John," James said, and now his voice was shaking, throaty with pleasure. John's movements would have been enough to undo him without the sheer wantonness, the way John took his pleasure as if it was the only thing he wanted in the world. James braced his feet flat against the ground, unable to stand being still any longer, and bucked up.
The motion wrung another one of those lovely, high noises from John, and his teeth closed around James' thumb for a moment before his tongue soothed the hurt. He bucked his hips, and only then did James remember the hand he had around John's cock. He matched pace with John's movements, pulling him off with a thumb flicked against the edge of his foreskin.
John's mouth fell open, and his head tipped back, grinding back into James' irregular thrusts and panting. "Oh, Christ." His chest heaved and the muscles in his thighs set to trembling. His nails dug into James' chest and his spine twisted, like it was too much and he just couldn't stand it - and then his body seized almost painfully tight around James' cock and he spilled, come dripping over James' fingers and down onto his stomach.
James grabbed his hip and drove into him, teeth clenched, his other hand locking tight around John's collarbone. It took only a handful of thrusts - the rippling muscles of John's hole wrung his pleasure from him, his eyes falling shut and his hips screwing up hard. It was like a shot gone off from the base of his cock that shattered up his spine and set off a buzzing in his ears, and he couldn't help but grind into John's body, prolonging it as long as he could.
When their grip on each other finally eased, John had left red welts down James' chest in the wake of his nails, and James' handiwork was evident in reddening, finger-shaped bruises around his hips and his collarbone. John fell against him, his head tucking beneath James' chin. They stayed joined until James' cock softened and slipped out on its own, accompanied by the slick drip of his come.
"Mmm," John hummed, mouthing lazily at James' chest. "I could fall asleep like this. You'll spoil me, you were too good." Even if it was flattery, it made James smirk and stroke a hand down John's back. His curious fingers found the loose ring of his hole, and John gasped, his body twitching when James pressed just enough to dip one fingertip inside. "Ahh- sensitive, sensitive," he said, a pleading edge to his voice that had James withdrawing, even as part of him wanted to see if he could make John writhe for him again.
"I'll stop," he said. And then, because he couldn't think of anything else to say and he felt that sex like that deserved some of the kind of praise John had been heaping him with, he added, "I would do that as many times as you would let me."
John propped himself up on his elbows, looking down at James with their faces mere inches apart, a thoroughly fucked-out and blissful grin on his face. "So? Was I right, or was I right?"
James raised his eyebrows. "Don't be smug. Sinfully brazen suits you. Smug is infuriating."
That won him a laugh, and John's fingers sliding into his hair, their lips fitting together in a long kiss. "I won't be smug, then, if only because I got far more than I expected, and everything I wanted, and I suspect you did as well."
"Yes," James said, returning that infectious grin. "If you're so determined to hear me praise you - yes, you were the best I've ever had, you made me come so hard I saw stars. You're plenty pleased with yourself already."
John nipped at the curve of his jaw. "It never hurts to be complimented."
They took their time putting themselves to rights, with more time spent kissing than dressing. Their shoulders brushed as they walked together from the treeline. John had a slight hitch in his step, and it made James rest his hand on the small of John's back, thumb stroking against the skin. "All right?"
John stepped up close to kiss him again, his tongue sliding wetly against James' lips. "I'll feel you for days, James, and every time I do I'm going to think of this and have to find a bunk somewhere."
James smiled, running his thumb over the fingerprints on his collarbone. John's words lightened some of the bitterness that settled over him - they needed to part ways, now, and it was unlikely they would ever see each other again. Even if they did, it was even less likely they would get another chance to enjoy each other like this.
Some of his melancholy must have showed on his face, because John said, "Captain Hamish likes to berth at Port Royal, when we aren't at sea. If you're ever there..." He let it trail off, shifting uncertainly, and James suddenly had an unwelcome thought that perhaps John's experience with lovers had been people who didn't care to talk to him once they were done. He seemed tentative now when he'd only been confident before.
"If I'm ever there, I'll look for the Fancy." He kissed John again, soft and near-chaste this time, their lips warm against each other and his palms cradling John's face. John made a small sound into his mouth, like a breath of relief.
"Fair winds and following seas," John said when they drew apart.
"And the same to you, John." James let go of him reluctantly, but there was nothing for it - he would be missed before long, and they couldn't very well stand here just out of sight of the fire and expect to remain unseen forever.
John backed away for his first few steps, almost like he didn't want to part from him, before he finally turned and made for the fire. James walked to where his blue coat lay discarded, somewhat worse for wear now after being left in the sand. Despite the melancholy air of their parting, James was sure their encounter would be a good memory, one he would return to - much like John - in the privacy of his own bunk for some time to come.
And when they set sail the next day, if James stood at the stern railing and watched a lithe, dark-haired form climb to the tops and wave to him as the Fancy disappeared from sight, that was no-one's business but his own.