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You slip silently through the shadows, your eyes fixed on the mansion ahead. You have been planning this heist for weeks, and the payoff will be enough to finally get a ship and a small crew of your own. You have taken everything into consideration—the guards’ patrol routes, the location of the target, all the way down to the best escape route. You even planned around the weather, the rain being a perfect distraction from any noise you might make. Nothing will be left to chance. Nothing can go wrong.
You climb the garden trellis that leads to the third-floor window and pop open the latch with your pocket knife, slipping inside. You cast a cursory glance down each side of the hallway, but just as you expected, the guard is nowhere to be seen. At this time, he should be patrolling the opposite end of the floor, which gives you about six minutes to neutralize the two guards in the display room, get the necklace, and get out. The time frame is tight, but you’ve dealt with worse scenarios.
The necklace you are after is an ode to jewelry craftsmanship, and no expense had been spared in its creation. The design consists of a solid gold chain, polished to a gleaming shine. Dangling from the center of the necklace is a single, massive diamond, a flawless gem that sparkles with a brilliance that is almost blinding. Supposedly, when it catches the light just right, it creates a mesmerizing display of color. The Aurora, people call it.
But it isn’t the diamond alone that makes the necklace so valuable—it is the history behind it. Legend has it that the necklace once belonged to a powerful queen who was gifted it at her coronation. It had been passed down through generations of royalty before her, and people say that anyone who wore it was blessed with great wealth and success. That part of the story obviously isn’t true, as no one who has since come into possession of the necklace has reaped the benefits.
It’s not that you don’t believe in magical items—they certainly do exist. In fact, part of the reason you are trying to get a ship is to track one that has captured your interest. The Aurora just happens to be a normal item of jewelry. Of course the people who owned it were wealthy and successful; they were royalty. It was all no more than a mere coincidence. But alas, it is still a hot commodity and one you are willing to provide.
The governor you are robbing recently purchased the necklace at an auction for an inconceivable amount of money, much to the chagrin of your employer. You couldn’t care less about petty disagreements between the wealthy—you just want to do the job and get paid.
You enter the display room, poisoned knife at the ready. One cut is all you need to get the toxin into a man’s bloodstream and paralyze him. You freeze momentarily when you see that the guards have already been dealt with, their unconscious bodies lying in a heap on the floor. The confusion only lasts for a moment before panic surges through you, spurring you into action. You switch into a defensive posture and spin around so your back is against a wall, prepared to face whoever has beaten you here.
Your eyes take in the room, but you don’t see anyone else. There are too many hiding spots to consider, and you start listing them off in your head. Behind one of the doors? No, too obvious. Inside the suit of armor? No, too impractical. Inside one of the cabinets? Perhaps, but which one? There must be at least 6 that you can see and walking around aimlessly will leave you vulnerable.
What you don’t account for is the man crouching behind a display case to your right. He jumps out and catches you by surprise, trapping you in his arms. Without hesitation, you throw your elbow back, connecting with his stomach and forcing him to release his hold on you. You follow up with a wide arc of your knife, but he counters your attack with ease, twisting your wrist and causing you to lose your grip on the weapon. You curse under your breath, knowing that you're outmatched in close combat.
Refusing to back down, you bring your leg up and land a solid kick to his midsection. He staggers back, only knocked off balance for a second, but it is enough time for you to cross the room and grab the necklace. With a burst of speed, you dash towards the exit, thinking you have the man beat. But just as you near the window, he grabs you by the hair and pulls you back toward him. Pain radiates through your scalp, and you almost bite your tongue in an attempt to hold back a scream. You go to elbow him again, but this time he’s prepared, pulling you tightly against his chest and rendering you immobile. You strain to catch a glimpse of his face, but it's hidden behind a dark cloak.
“Sorry,” he says, before covering your mouth with a sickly sweet-smelling cloth. You struggle against him, thrashing your arms and legs, but it's no use. The last thing you recall is the fact that you recognize his voice, a sense of frustration flooding through you as darkness overtakes you.
You let out a groan as you slowly regain consciousness, blinking your eyes in an attempt to adjust to the harsh sunlight. Your senses gradually come back to you, and it doesn’t take you long to recognize where you are. You can smell the sea in the air just as much as you can feel it beneath you. That and the fact that your hair is currently whipping around your face from the wind is enough to let you know that you are on a ship. Not just any ship, though. The worn wooden deck, the orange and black flag waving above your head, all down to the sound of laughter in the distance are things that are more than familiar to you. Even the uncomfortable feeling of being tied to the mast, unable to move, is nostalgic. You’re on the Destiny.
Your head is pounding, and your limbs feel heavy and numb, an awful reminder of how you ended up in this position. Your clothes are stiff against your skin and still slightly damp—it must have continued to rain while you were unconscious. Of course none of your captors had the decency to put you in the brig, protected from the elements. You’re sure you can thank the Destiny’s sadistic captain for that; he likes to think doing things like this gives him sort of power over you.
You test your bonds but, as always, they are as secure as can be. Fucking San. You can’t believe you let him capture you again. You’ll get him back for this—maybe you’ll steal his cat when you escape this time as a warning you aren’t to be messed with any longer. Plus, Byeol is such a sweetheart and she deserves better than to be surrounded by all of this chaotic, masculine energy.
“Well, well, well,” a familiar voice remarks, the timbre of it instantly grating on your nerves. “Sleeping Beauty has finally decided to join us after her two-day nap.”
“Wooyoung,” you spit.
He looks no different from the last time you saw him, other than the fact that his long, dark locks are pulled back in a ponytail. He dons a black vest and tight-fitting trousers, his white linen shirt slightly open at the collar to reveal his tanned chest. A gun holster is fastened to his hip, containing his favorite ornate pistol. In all the years you’ve known him, you’ve never seen him without it.
“You look like shit, Y/N,” he laughs. The way his eyes crinkle makes him look deceptively innocent, but you know better. “San really did a number on you this time, huh?”
“Nice to see you too, bastard.”
“I know, isn’t it always?” He ignores your harsh language and squats in front of you. “Captain sure is happy to have you back. I’m almost jealous.”
“Jealous?” You scoff. “I never wanted that sadist’s attention in the first place. Feel free to have him all to yourself.”
“I said almost. He gives me plenty of attention, don’t you worry.”
You raise an eyebrow. “That so?”
Wooyoung nods, smirking. “Yeah. In fact, just the other night, he—”
“Wooyoung, knock it off,” San interrupts, voice stern. He walks over holding a metal cup in one hand and a plate of food in the other. No longer hidden under a cloak, you’re able to see that his black hair is freshly cropped, accentuating the chiseled angles of his face. “Why don’t you go let Hongjoong know Y/N is awake since you’re apparently so fond of him, hm?”
“Don’t be jealous, Sannie,” Wooyoung says, standing up and caressing the back of San’s neck. “You know I love you too.”
“Yeah, yeah. Get out of here, brat.”
Surprisingly obedient, he walks off, but not without one last witty remark. “Have fun with her. Watch your fingers!”
San ignores him and kneels in front of you, setting down the food and water. Despite seeming flippant about Wooyoung’s warning, he still eyes you warily. “I’m gonna feed you now, alright? Please don’t bite me.”
You roll your eyes in response. “That was one time; let it go.”
“It hurt! I have a scar from it!” He holds up his right index finger; sure enough, there’s a pale white line right where you sunk your teeth in.
“You poor baby. Not as if you, I don’t know, kidnapped me or something.”
He pouts and picks up the water cup, raising it to your lips. You greedily gulp it down, eager to rinse away the lingering taste of whatever he drugged you with. Some of it escapes from the corners of your lips, dripping down your chin and soaking into the neckline of your shirt. San gently dabs at your mouth with his sleeve, and there is so much kindness in the action that you almost feel bad for all the shit you give him.
“Can’t you just join our crew since we want the same thing? I don’t particularly enjoy kidnapping you, you know.”
Almost.
“Okay, then stop doing it!”
“Y/N,” he whines, “You know that whatever Captain says, goes. Or I’ll be the next one tied to the mast.”
You pout as you accept the next bite of food he offers you. “If he is such a tyrant, why are you and Wooyoung and everyone else so loyal to him?”
San sighs and sits more comfortably, crossing his legs. “There’s a lot of reasons. I’ve never met another captain as fiercely protective of his crew, who is as loyal to them as they are to him. Nor have I seen anyone as passionate, or as dedicated to what we do and what we fight for. He makes people believe in something, you know?”
“So? That excuses the way he acts?”
San doesn’t answer right away, continuing to feed you bread and cheese as he ponders what to say. Being fed is somewhat humiliating, but this isn’t the first time you have found yourself in this situation, and it probably won’t be the last. Plus, you don’t feel like biting any fingers today, so you may as well put up with it.
“It’s not that simple,” he says eventually, eyes soft and hazy as if recalling a distant memory. “I may not be a fan of some of his crueler practices, but I understand that everything he does is necessary. He isn’t evil; it’s not all about fear, at least not when it comes to the crew. It’s about respect. He demands our respect because he needs to know that we have his back just as he has ours. He only punishes those who deserve it. And when it comes to our enemies? The fear he inspires in them makes our lives a thousand times easier. He’s earned my loyalty beyond a shadow of a doubt. I owe him everything.”
You will never admit it out loud, but hearing him talk about his captain with so much reverence inspires similar feelings within you. You can say you hate him, that you want nothing to do with him, and that you find his sadistic fascination with you nothing more than an inconvenience, yet you still always end up right back here on his ship. If you were smart, you would avoid port towns completely. But maybe, just maybe, part of you is drawn to the captain just as much as his crew seems to be.
Before you can probe San for more details, Wooyoung hollers for the both of you from the bow of the ship. Giving you one last, apologetic look, San stands and unties you from the mast before guiding you toward him.
Wooyoung nods to the captain’s quarters. “Time for your date.”
You roll your eyes. “Oh, gee, can’t wait.”
San walks you to the door, but, before he can knock, you move in front of him so that you’re blocking his way. Figuring you have nothing to lose, you give him your best puppy eyes.
Before you can even say anything, he’s already shaking his head. “No, no, don’t even try it. Sorry, Y/N, but I’m not getting involved in Captain’s business, which is exactly what you are.”
“San, come on, I can make it worth your while.” You bat your eyelashes at him, and he flushes, embarrassed by what you’re implying. You wouldn’t normally stoop this low, but it’s not like he’s unattractive… Plus, it’ll make it easier to steal Byeol if you’re already in his room.
He goes to say something and then freezes, eyes widening. “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“What? Are you not attracted to me? Actually, don’t tell me if that’s the case, you’ll hurt my feelings.”
He backs away, raising his hands in a sign of surrender. “I’m not getting involved,” he says, reiterating his statement from earlier. It’s only then you realize he’s no longer looking at you, but behind you.
You slowly turn around to face none other than Kim Hongjoong, Captain of the Destiny and the bane of your existence. He dons his usual tan coat that has his logo embroidered on a black armband, indicative of his authority. A small scar cuts through his left eyebrow, giving him a dangerous edge, and his hair is styled away from his face, showcasing his deceivingly delicate features. His intense gaze seems to burn right through you, his aura as imposing as ever.
"Y/N," he greets, his voice just as you remember. It has a sweet, almost musical quality to it, like a bell. But there's also a hint of darkness that makes your hair stand on end. "Come in, please."
Despite the polite request, you can't help but roll your eyes. He asks as if you have a choice, but you know better. If you don't comply willingly, he will force you to do so. You walk past him, purposely bumping your shoulder against his. He just smirks and shuts the door behind you, the lock clicking ominously.
You've been in his quarters many times before, so you know the layout well. The room is humble but cleverly designed to appear larger than it is and lit by several lanterns, casting a warm glow over everything. The air is thick with the scent of spices, sandalwood, and the faintest hint of tobacco smoke. The centerpiece is an ornate desk made of dark wood, with a leather-bound journal and quill at the ready.
The walls are lined with shelves containing books, trinkets, and other treasures from Hongjoong's travels. A large map of the sea hangs on the wall behind his desk, covered in pins and strings marking his various ports of call and potential targets. You try to memorize the details, hoping they'll be useful in your future journeys. He notices you looking and laughs as if he doubts you’ll be able to garner any information from it.
His laughter makes you bristle. “You left me tied up for two days this time, bastard.”
“It’s no fun if I go too easy on you, is it?” he hums, watching you walk around his room.
“I don’t think it’s any fun at all, actually.”
You come to a stop in front of his bed, large enough to fit two comfortably, with silk sheets and plush pillows. You remember the feeling of the silk on your skin and flush, quickly turning away from it and focusing your attention on Hongjoong who has taken a seat on the edge of his desk.
He tilts his head, eying you the same way a cat eyes a mouse. “I’m not so sure that’s true. You never do stay away long, do you, Y/N?”
“It’s not like coming here is my choice.”
“Oh, but isn’t it? You know the ports we frequent yet still choose not to avoid them. I can’t help but wonder why.”
“If you think it’s because of you, you need to get your ego sorted out.”
He smirks. “I never said that, did I? But I believe you just confirmed it.”
You take a deep breath, determined to keep your cool. You hate how he gets under your skin so easily but would hate it even more if you made it obvious. As if he doesn’t already know exactly the effect he has on you.
“If you would just let me go about my own business and stop sending your little henchman after me, we could simply avoid each other and make both of our lives easier.”
“Ah, yes. San, my infiltrator, to whom you made a very interesting offer.” He stands up as he says this, stalking toward you. “Are you interested in him? You want him to think you’re pretty?” You say nothing, the intimidating aura rolling off of him rendering you speechless. You didn’t realize you were backing away until your knees hit against his mattress. “Have you thought about what it would be like to have his cock in your mouth or his head buried between your legs?”
As he runs his thumb over your bottom lip, a part of you longs to draw it into your mouth, but you turn your head away. “You’re sick.”
“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” He pushes you just hard enough so that you’re forced to sit on the bed, head level with his abdomen. He stares down at you with a twisted smile, obviously enjoying the change in perspective. “So, tell me,” he continues as if he hadn’t just said some of the most vulgar things you have ever heard, “you have new information on the location of the Cromer?”
The Cromer—the magical object you are both after, an hourglass that grants the owner the ability to move through dimensions. You’ve been hunting it for years, with Hongjoong and his crew always right on your tail.
“Funny how you’re asking as if you expect me to just hand it over.”
“Won’t you, sweetheart?” He pouts, and that is almost enough to break your resolve.
“No way in hell. You’d have to torture the information out of me first.”
He smiles again as if the idea is appealing to him. But then he gives you a once over, and his eyes darken. “Let’s save the torturing for another day, shall we? It has been far too long since I’ve last had you.”
His words send a jolt through you, making you clench around nothing.“Fuck you, Hongjoong. I’m not your whore.”
“Whose whore are you then? San’s?” He places a knee on the mattress next to you, leaning over you. His breath fans against your face when he speaks next. “Do you think he’d be able to make you scream the way I do? That he’d be able to fuck you the way you like?”
“Maybe he would,” you say, though you don’t actually believe it.
“He’s too good for you, Y/N, and I think you know that. He’d be gentle, loving, and treat you like a doll. A real gentleman. But that’s not what you want. What you really need, what you truly desire, is someone who can break you over and over again until you can’t even remember your own name.”
“You’re such a—” Before you can even get the full phrase out, he crashes his lips onto yours. It’s pathetic how you can’t even bring yourself to resist; instead, you moan into his mouth, granting his tongue access.
He kisses you with bruising strength, and you kiss back just as fiercely as if you’re desperate to prove him right. That no one else could ever satisfy you the way he does. Your mind is at war with the fire in your veins, the need that permeates throughout every inch of your body. You shouldn’t want him, but you do. You have fallen into his trap yet again.
He backs away far too soon for your liking, undoing his belt in the blink of an eye and letting his pants fall to his knees. You’re pleased to see that he is already straining against his briefs—at least you aren’t the only one plagued by want.
“I think you should put that smart mouth of yours to good use.”
As he stands there, expectant, you reach out and gently trace the outline of him. He lets out a sharp exhale through gritted teeth. You pause for a moment, squeezing him once before slipping your fingers underneath the waistband of his underwear and pulling them down underneath his ass. His cock springs free, slapping against his abdomen. The tip is already leaking, and you smirk in satisfaction.
“And you say I’m the needy one.”
“Oh, you are. I know you love letting me use you, so I’m just giving you what you want.”
“I should bite your cock off.”
He laughs, not worried in the slightest. “Why would you when you like it so much?” He slaps it against your lips and you instinctively stick out your tongue, savoring his familiar taste. “See, look at you. What a pretty little cock slut,” he croons. “Open wide for me.”
You do so, eagerly taking him into your mouth. You sink almost all the way down to the base of his member, your nose practically brushing against his abdomen. His tip hits the back of your throat; he’s not quite big enough to gag you, but as he begins to thrust, saliva pools out of the corners of your lips. He moans, throwing his head back as he fucks your throat.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Use that dirty little mouth on me. No bite to back up your bark, hm?” You graze him with your teeth in response, and he pulls harshly on your hair, making you whimper. “Always so eager to be punished, aren’t you?”
He gives a few more hard thrusts before pulling you all the way off of him. Strings of saliva still connect you to his cock momentarily before they break and fall away as he pulls his pants up once again.
Picking up his previously discarded belt, he smacks it once against his palm, staring at you expectantly. “Hands against the headboard.”
“No way in hell am I letting you tie me up again.”
His eyes narrow. “I think you will. Or would you prefer I use this on your ass instead?”
Glowering at him, you do as he asks. He isn’t gentle when tightening the belt around your wrists, and the leather digs into your skin uncomfortably. You squirm in your bonds and he grabs your face, squeezing it between his fingers.
“Aw, does it hurt?” His grip on your face tightens. “I don’t care.” He gives your cheek a rough slap before walking over to his desk and retrieving a small, ornate knife. He returns to the bed, twirling it skillfully between his fingers as he does so. “You know, some pirates cut the hands off of the thieves they catch.”
Nervous sweat dampens your brow as you watch light glint menacingly off of the blade. You know that Hongjoong is not one to shy away from violence, but you can’t see him ever doing something to injure you so grievously. You can feel the cold metal of the knife against your skin as he runs it teasingly down the length of one of your bound arms. You're trapped and at his mercy, yet, you aren’t entirely powerless. Not when you know he craves you just as badly as you do him.
“You would never go that far and we both know that.”
Hongjoong sighs. “You’re right, of course. But—” He brings the blade down and cuts right through the front of your shirt, exposing your chest to him. “I’m still going to leave my mark on you.”
He presses the blade into the skin right under your collarbone with just enough pressure to bring a few droplets of blood to the surface. You exhale through gritted teeth—the pain isn’t excruciating, but the sting is unpleasant.
“I thought you weren’t going to torture me this time, hm?”
“Oh, darling, don’t be silly. You know what real torture looks like. I just want to claim what is mine. That way no one—not San, not Wooyoung, nor any other soul—will ever even dream about touching you.”
“I’m not yours, Hongjoong. I’m not anyone's.”
He laughs, dragging the knife down from the top of your neck to the middle of your sternum. “Whatever you say.”
His touch is light enough that your skin only sustains injuries in the few places his grip wavers, though you know that his hand is steady and his small blips are probably a lot more deliberate than he would have you think.
“How about here?” He says, tapping his knife against the area of skin between your breasts. “Should I carve my initials right here, so that anyone you ever bare yourself to will know that you belong to Kim Hongjoong, Captain of the Destiny? The notorious Pirate King and most wanted man in all of Elysium?”
Your heart flutters like a bird. Whether it is out of fear or exhilaration, you cannot say.
“You sound quite silly listing off all of your titles like that. A bit narcissistic, no?”
“Maybe I’ll cut out your tongue too.”
“I don’t think you would like kissing me much, then.”
He leans forward, pressing his lips to yours once again. He kisses you sloppily, without any care, all gnashing teeth and conquering tongue. You kiss him back with equal fervor, your body thrumming with desire. The threat of a knife mere centimeters from your chest does nothing to quell your need for him.
He pulls back, lips glistening with saliva. “I think you’re right about that, my dear. I would be loath to rid myself of one of my greatest pleasures.” You feel flush, the slight praise doing more for you than it should. Hongjoong notices too, of course. “Look at you, all beautiful and rosy for me. Only me.”
With more force than before, he returns the knife to your skin. Gone are the teasing touches, the small cuts. Now, your chest begins to burn, throbbing with a deep and intense ache. You scream and thrash in your bindings, unable to deal with the pain like before. Hongjoong has no choice but to pull his knife away lest you mess up his work. He tsks as if you’re no more than a disobedient child and climbs on top of you, forcing your body to still underneath his own.
“Just another minute, darling. Be good for me.”
One minute feels like ten but eventually, he seems satisfied. He places the knife on the bedside table and leans back to admire his work, a blinding smile lighting up his face. “Now you’re perfect.”
You feel too exhausted to respond, only able to blink your eyes through the tears you have no memory of crying. Your chest throbs and, though you refuse to look down, you can feel the blood soaking through the remnants of your shirt. Hongjoong kisses you on the forehead and climbs off of you, being careful not to jostle the bed with his movements.
With purposeful strides, he makes his way over to the wash basin in the corner of the room, where a rag lies waiting. He picks it up and thoroughly wets it before returning to your side. With a deft hand, he peels away the remaining shreds of your ruined shirt, discarding them carelessly onto the floor. His movements are gentle and almost tender as he wipes away the blood and sweat, all the while holding you still with a firm grip. Despite your attempts to pull away, he murmurs soft reassurances as he tends to your wounds. It's a strange juxtaposition, this act of care and concern from a man who just minutes before carved his initials into your flesh with a dagger. You find yourself almost being lulled to sleep by his sweet words and soft touch.
“My most precious treasure,” he coos, coaxing you back into reality. “I think you deserve a reward.”
Discarding the rag, he once again climbs onto the bed, this time lowering himself down comfortably between your legs. Your stomach tightens with anticipation—this position isn’t one he often favors. He looks up at you through his eyelashes, and he looks so beautiful at this moment that you almost forget how to breathe. The way his tan skin glows in the warm light and sweat sparkles on his brow make him look borderline angelic. Suddenly, you’re struck by the thought that Lucifer, too, was God’s most beautiful angel before he fell.
“Hongjoong…” you murmur his name, breathless.
“Yes?”
“I need you.”
“I know you do. And so you’ll have me.”
Hongjoong loosens the ties at the front of your pants before slipping his fingers beneath them, gently tugging them off of your body along with your undergarments in one swift movement. His fingers trace invisible patterns over the insides of your thighs and his breath ghosts over your core, so close yet so far from where you so desperately need him. He continues teasing you until you’re writhing and begging for more, something, anything.
He laughs at your desperation before finally giving in and pressing his tongue flat against you. The moan you let out is completely wanton, almost animalistic. Your chest still throbs, a grim reminder of your new marking, but the pleasure mixes with the pain in a way that has you feeling lightheaded.
He works his tongue with great skill and when he adds a finger inside of you, you just about melt into the sheets. The sounds you’re making must please him because he hums around your clit, causing your body to jolt as the vibrations send another shockwave of pleasure through you. He adds a second finger and you cry out, thighs tightening around his head. You can’t help but grind against his face, completely dizzy with lust. To your surprise, he lets you, continuing his ministrations with vigor.
You don’t know what you’ve done to deserve this, or how one man can completely overwhelm you with pleasure. No one else you have ever laid with can shine a light on him or the way he makes you feel. You would swear that he was a god or a devil if only you weren’t so privy to the vulnerable, human sides of him. If he needs to cut you or make you bleed so that you can feel like this, so be it. He can do whatever he wishes to you.
Hongjoong curls his fingers against the spot inside of you that makes you see stars and you can feel the waves of your orgasm begin to crash over you. He doesn’t relent, instead sucking your clit into his mouth and helping you over the edge. White heat spreads throughout your body and you shake as you come completely undone beneath him.
You don’t have a chance to collect yourself before Hongjoong adds a third finger. You clamp your thighs down around his head and try to squirm away from his touch, overly sensitive. He doesn’t let you, securing your waist with his other arm. He’s much stronger than he looks and, in the state you’re in, it’s almost no challenge at all to keep you under his control.
“I think you can give me one more, can’t you? And then another after that when I finally plow you into this mattress.”
You wish you could reach down and tear his hand away from you; the feeling of his fingers inside of you after you have so recently orgasmed setting your nerves on fire. “C-can’t— wait, too much—”
“Hush now, slut. I own you and I own this cunt.” His sudden switch from praise to degradation is overwhelming, the possessiveness in his tone making you shudder. “You’re gonna come again, I can already feel it. Do this and I’ll fuck you dumb, just the way you like.”
He’s right—you can already feel yourself clenching around him, your second orgasm approaching so quickly the pain hasn’t even had the chance to fade into pleasure. You tremble under his touch, fresh tears falling down your cheeks. Whatever protests you had die on your lips as all you can manage now are moans and broken mantras that sound like “Joong” and “please”.
You whine as you come again, fresh tears falling down your cheeks. Hongjoong finally relents, pulling his fingers out of you and letting you come back down to earth. You struggle to gain control over your body again, your chest stinging with each heaving breath. Luckily, Hongjoong takes his time freeing himself of his clothes and by the time he’s done, you’re sane enough to speak.
“Bastard.”
He laughs, throwing his head back. “You never stay pliant for long, do you, darling?”
He crawls back onto the bed and cages you in his arms, hovering above you. The way he looks at you now is the same as when he tracks down a lead or finds something he has been searching for, his dark eyes full of pride and hunger for more. He kisses you right above the mark he carved into your chest.
“Well,” he murmurs, breath fanning against your skin, “It wouldn’t be as much fun if you were.”
He reaches down and gives his cock a few lazy strokes before positioning himself at your entrance. You don’t have to look to know that it is an angry red from lack of attention—the way his eyebrows scrunch and he grits his teeth are enough to tell you he’s sensitive to the touch. He doesn’t ask for permission, immediately bottoming out inside of you. You strain against your bonds; if you could, you would be raking your nails down his back.
He sets a relentless pace, lifting up one of your thighs so he can reach even deeper. His bed shakes, banging against the wall of his cabin, and you’re positive that the rest of the crew will find out what you are doing shortly if they haven’t already.
“Oh my god—you’re so fucking—so good, god—”
“Is that what you’re calling me now? Are—fuck—are you going to worship me like one?” He punctuates his statement with an especially hard thrust.
You answer with a loud moan of his name, back arching off of the mattress. “Fuck, yes, whatever you want—please, just—”
He stops abruptly, pulling out of you. You whine at the loss of him and clench around nothing. Despite how desperate he must be to cum, somehow he still manages to look put together with barely a strand of hair out of place. If it wasn’t for the sweat dampening his skin and his labored breathing, you would never guess he was fucking you into oblivion.
He repositions himself so that he’s only supporting his body weight with one hand and wraps the other around your neck, using the lightest amount of pressure. Your breath hitches and your thighs clench instinctively. He maneuvers one of his own thighs between your legs and you grind against it pathetically, searching for any kind of release. He looks oddly triumphant for a reason that you can’t place, but he doesn’t leave you wondering too long.
Leaning down, he nips at your earlobe and whispers, “The information. Give it to me.”
You gasp for air, trying to form a coherent thought. “What?”
“I know you found the location,” he growls, tightening his grip on your neck. “Where is the Cromer?”
You struggle to think straight, your body still reeling from the intense pleasure he just ripped away from you. “I didn’t,” you manage to choke out.
He quirks his scarred eyebrow. “I find that hard to believe.” He moves his thigh against you, brushing against your clit as he does so. You moan and grind down harder against him, but it isn’t enough to satisfy you. “Is this how you want to finish, then? Humping my leg like a bitch?”
“No!” you insist, your voice getting louder. “If I found the location, don’t you think it would be in my possession right now? All I learned is that there’s a guy called ‘Left Eye’ that is supposed to know about it, but I don’t know where he is.”
He doesn’t seem convinced, but he loosens his grip on your neck. “Fine. For now.” He pulls back, shifting his weight and positioning himself between your legs once again. “But I’ll be keeping a closer eye on you from now on. And if you’re lying…”
He lets the threat hang in the air, but you know what he means. You nod, understanding that you’re in a precarious position.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, resuming his thrusts. You bite your lip to keep from moaning too loudly, but it’s no use.
As he continues to pound into you, you feel yourself getting closer and closer to the edge once again. It's like he knows your body better than you do, hitting every spot that sends you spiraling out of control. He buries his face in your neck, biting down harshly on your shoulder. Your whole body jumps, clenching around him, and finally, you hear him moan against your skin. No longer can he act collected, not when your body is so responsive beneath him, not when he’s prolonged his own orgasm for so long it surely hurts.
As you reach your peak, he growls your name, his own orgasm overtaking him simultaneously. He spills inside of you, the feeling of his warm seed filling you up sending you over the edge. You lay there, sweaty and panting, as Hongjoong collapses on top of you. You know that this is not the last time he will hurt you or use you, but you can’t bring yourself to care. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you are his, and he is yours. No matter how fucked up things are, that’s all that matters.
You don’t know how long you stay like that, but eventually Hongjoong pulls out of you and unties your wrists. You immediately stretch, trying to forgo some of the stiffness that comes from being in that position. You can feel the marks he has left on your body and the soreness between your legs, but it doesn't matter. You’ve dealt with worse from him.
You expect him to get up and escort you to the brig now that he’s gotten what he wants from you, but instead he pulls you into his arms. You tense from shock but it doesn’t take long for you to relax, lulled by the feeling of his fingers carding through your hair. As you lay there, listening to the sound of his heartbeat and the creaking of the ship, you can't help but wonder how much longer you can play this dangerous game with the Pirate King before it all comes crashing down.
No more words are shared between the two of you that night and, eventually, Hongjoong falls asleep first. You’ve never been in this position before—never has he let down his guard around you to this extent. You could take revenge on him for all the torture he’s put you through, could stab him through his heart with his own knife. But you won’t. And he knows you well enough to know that.
You wait there, quietly, listening to his steady breathing and observing his face as he sleeps. The harshness that can usually be found in his features is nowhere to be seen, replaced by an uncharacteristic innocence that tugs on your heartstrings. It strikes you how young he looks, not much older than yourself. For the first time, you find yourself wondering why he is the way that he is. Where did his cruelty come from? Has it always been there, or did it seep into him like a poison, spurred on by some traumatic event? There is that side of him that’s gentle, the side of him that inspires the loyalty and respect of his crew. You see it, rarely, when his touches are featherlight and his words sweet as syrup. How different would he be if that part of him was not overshadowed by darkness?
Once you’re sure he’s in a deep enough sleep, you gently remove yourself from his grasp and climb out of bed. You move as quietly as possible, hoping that he’s spent enough from laying with you that he won’t wake as you try to make your escape. The ship most likely hasn’t left the dock yet as Hongjoong was waiting to see if the Cromer was nearby.
Shuffling back into your pants, you pick up the discarded rag Hongjoong used to clean your wound and utilize it as a makeshift bandage to cover the carved initials on your chest; it is the best that you can do for now. You won’t risk stopping by the infirmary out of fear that the crew might catch you. With your shirt torn to shreds, you steal the one that Hongjoong was wearing. He shouldn’t miss it too much.
The air outside is salty and damp, a stark contrast to the warm and intimate atmosphere of Hongjoong's cabin. You pause for a moment to take in your surroundings and confirm that the ship is still in fact docked. Luck is certainly on your side—perhaps you will make an offering to the gods in thanks if you come across a shrine on your journey.
You carefully make your way towards the gangway, keeping as low to the ground as possible. It looks like those that are on the night crew are busy with their own tasks and while you’re sure that someone is positioned in the crow’s nest, they should be focused on the horizon for signs of enemy ships and not on you. Just as you are about to make a run for it, you spot a few figures walking onto the ship and quickly duck behind some supply barrels before they can see you. It seems like San and some other crew members are just returning from a night out, a drunken flush to some of their cheeks.
You quiet your breathing and hope that they pass by without issue. San stops for a moment, looking directly toward your hiding spot, and you almost bolt in panic—you swear that he has inhuman instincts. After a moment, he must figure that he is only imagining things and disappears into the crew’s cabins. Finally in the clear, you take off down the gangway and sprint away into the night, leaving Hongjoong and the Destiny far behind you.
The next morning Hongjoong wakes and reaches for the empty spot in bed next to him, now cold to the touch, realizing that his most precious treasure has slipped from his grasp once again.