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Oscar never intended to fall in love with a pirate.
But it’s not his fault the crew of the Samurai mistook him, a humble blacksmith’s apprentice, for a nobleman’s son.
And it’s not his fault the person that Captain Alonso assigned to watch over him at all times is unfairly pretty in a way that could only be described as ethereal.
Being tied up in the hull of a ship isn’t exactly Oscar’s ideal way to spend his days, but he can’t exactly complain about it either. Not when his company is as eye-catching as Lando anyway, earrings and bracelets and all.
“So, Oscar, how much d’you reckon your father will pay in exchange for you?”
Oscar lifts an eyebrow. “For the fifth time, I’m not the bloke you’re looking for.”
“And for the fifth time, you’re lying,” Lando replies lightly, flipping a dagger between his fingers. Oscar tracks the movement with his eyes, both incredibly wary and the slightest bit aroused.
“I mean, I don’t know how else I’m going to prove to you all that I’m just a blacksmith because I’m pretty sure you won’t let me anywhere near a blade.” Oscar pointedly glances down at his bound wrists and then back up to meet Lando’s eyes. “Uh, yeah, so you’ll just have to take my word for it.”
Lando huffs, visibly fed up. He might be extraordinarily pretty, but pirates aren’t exactly known for being smart, and he is no exception.
If piracy doesn’t work out for him, he could definitely find business as a prostitute.
Oscar’s eyes involuntarily widen at his own wayward thoughts.
“Ahah! You are lying!” Lando crows, pointing his dagger at Oscar’s forehead. His eyes sparkle, even in the damp, dark hull. “So how much money are we getting?”
“Not a single cent, unfortunately.”
“Pity, that.”
Lando sighs again and, much to Oscar’s surprise, sits down next to him. It’s one thing, being face-to-face with him, but it’s another, sitting a mere inch apart, so close that Oscar can feel the warmth of Lando’s thigh through the fabric of his tight trousers, right where it’s pressed along his own.
Perhaps this is one of Lando’s intimidation tactics.
If Oscar’s being honest, it’s kind of working.
“I still don’t believe you.”
“Okay.”
“But you’re not as stuffy and annoying as I thought you’d be when we first brought you onboard,” Lando admits. “Your kind typically are, y’know?”
“I wouldn’t know, but I’ll take your word for it,” Oscar replies. A part of him is happy that Lando doesn’t think he’s annoying, and that little tidbit is apparently very important to him.
He’s fine with Lando being totally convinced that he’s a nobleman if it means getting to talk to him more.
“Why’d the captain tell you in particular to stand guard over me?”
Lando shrugs, a fluid motion that definitely does not bring Oscar’s attention to his loose shirt and the delicate shoulders barely concealed underneath. White looks so good against his tan, even with a couple stray stains from various unknown fluids.
“Dunno. I offered.”
“Why?” Oscar presses.
Grimacing, Lando makes a wavy motion at him and replies,“You have a nice face or whatever.”
Before Oscar can offer more than, “Um, okay?” Lando abruptly stands up, mumbling something about the crow’s nest, and dashes out of the room.
It may be dark and damp in the hull of the Samurai, but Oscar is fairly certain he wasn’t imagining the pink tint to Lando’s cheeks.
Or maybe he’s gone so long without proper food and drink that his mind is playing games on him.
Yeah, that’s probably it.
Still, he can’t help but fuel his own delusions…
Oscar isn’t sure what Lando wants to accomplish by sitting in his lap, but it’s not like he can do anything about it with his hands still tied, so he just pretends a very large cat has occupied it instead.
“I’m overworked and underfucked,” Lando complains, tipping forward to rest his head on Oscar’s shoulder. “Mate, I can practically feel my virginity growing back!”
“I’m pretty sure it doesn’t work like that,” Oscar tells him. He chooses to ignore the bit about Lando being underfucked. For his own sake.
“And what would you know about virginity? Ooh, unless you’re a virgin. It’s fitting, don’t you think? A nobleman’s son is kept hidden in his room until the perfect blushing bride appears.” Lando sighs, batting his lashes in a faux dreamy manner. “And then you would spread her legs for your first taste of a woman. Not before marrying her, of course. How silly of me to suggest otherwise.”
Oscar isn’t even paying attention. He stopped paying attention the moment Lando accused him of being a virgin. As soon as Lando subconsciously leaned forward, exposing the soft contours of his chest to Oscar’s not-quite-virginal eyes, every coherent thought flew right out of his head.
“I’m none of those things,” he says belatedly. “I’m not a nobleman’s son, and I’m not a virgin.”
The corners of Lando’s mouth—pink, soft, generous—tilt up in a curiously coy smile.
It’s why Oscar feels the need to add, “Not marrying a woman either.”
Face heating, he immediately glances up at the ceiling to avoid looking at Lando, a hard task, considering how he’s still very much straddling him with seemingly no intention to leave.
To his surprise, Lando deftly slices his dagger through the ropes binding his hands together.
“What?”
Lando rolls his eyes. “You think I can’t feel you poking me in the arse? If you’re truly not a nobleman’s son, then you might as well make yourself useful in other ways.”
Oscar stares at him incredulously.
“With you rubbing your perky arse all over me, it’d be a miracle if I wasn’t hard. Any other man would think the same, but unlike them, I'm not doing anything about it.”
“Oh, come on, Oscar. Am I not pretty enough for your tastes?” Lando squirms a bit, grinding his clothed butt over Oscar’s crotch a bit more. “I’m horny, and I know you’re not going to try anything dirty, not when you have the opportunity to put your dick in me.”
Not that Oscar doesn’t want to put his dick in Lando, but he’s not desperate enough to do that here, where any other crew member can walk in. He may be a humble blacksmith’s apprentice, but he still has a shred of dignity remaining.
And he can and will stop Lando from just having his way with him because, even unarmed and trapped under him, he’s certain he can easily overpower him at any moment, now that his wrists are no longer bound.
“Sorry, but I’m not interested,” Oscar drawls. “Maybe find someone else who thinks you’re pretty enough.”
He puts his hands on Lando’s hips while he’s still frozen in place, likely conflicted between feeling offended and surprised that Oscar rejected his very generous offer, and lifts him away. As expected, Lando is as light as a feather.
Oscar nearly runs neck-first into the tip of Lando’s blade.
“Ugh, I was ready to offer you such a perfect deal,” Lando says, pouting. He shakes his head and tuts, and he’s standing so close that Oscar can count his lashes. “But you’ve offended me now.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“I rather like being told I’m pretty. Pretty enough for those I’ve killed in cold blood, anyway.”
Oscar swallows heavily as long fingers wrap around his wrists, preventing him from trying anything. It’s wholly unnecessary, given that Lando has him pinned in place with a single glance.
His breath remains caught in his throat as Lando flicks his blade, retracting it from his Adam’s apple. Oscar can only watch the knife disappear into Lando’s waistband and blush while the newly freed hand decides to trail up his arm and give his bicep a good squeeze.
“Blacksmith, huh?” Lando murmurs coquettishly. “I might have to start believing you.”
Oscar stays silent, though his gaze darts between the sly curve of Lando’s lips and the hungry look in his eyes.
“Are you sure you don’t want to fuck me?”
He hesitates, which Lando triumphantly takes the wrong way.
The right way, actually.
But Lando doesn’t need to know that.
“I’m pretty sure?” Oscar asks. “Look, I can do a lot of things, which does include… fucking… but I barely know you! If you’re sick of keeping me in the hull, I’d be happy to do anything above deck until you inevitably decide to kill me.”
Lando seems to perk up, but Oscar isn’t totally sure it's about giving him an opportunity to be of use to the Samurai and not his alleged sexual prowess. He gives Oscar’s bicep one last pat.
“I’m sure Nando will think of something to toughen up those dainty nobleman’s hands, mate,” he chirps, yanking Oscar along with surprising strength.
“My hands are probably rougher than yours,” Oscar says. And sure, his hands are smaller than Lando’s, but everyone’s hands are smaller than Lando’s, and Oscar has had years of experience hammering away at blades.
Lando immediately laces their fingers together.
“Hm.”
Oscar feels himself blush, even as he commits the shape of Lando’s hand to memory along with every callous on the inside of his knuckles and between his index and middle fingers from handling a sword or absentmindedly twirling his favorite dagger.
“I want your fingers in me,” Lando says bluntly, startling Oscar out of his little reverie.
“Um.”
“Oh my- Oscar, you’re burnt!” Lando cries, reaching out to touch Oscar’s cheek.
And Oscar can’t even flinch away from his touch, too mesmerized by the reflection of the ocean in Lando’s eyes. He’s even prettier in the sunlight, and Oscar nearly loses his hold of the rigging just to stare at him.
The sun is doing Lando so many favors, the wind tousles his curls, and his nose wrinkles at the waft of fishiness that it brings along.
Oscar swallows thickly, forcing his gaze away from the slight curve of his waist barely hidden by his translucent shirt.
“That’s what happens when you work under the sun after a whole week stuck below deck,” he replies dryly, as soon as he manages to find his voice again. “Not all of us can tan so beautifully like you, mate.”
Lando preens as Oscar turns away from him to continue tying the sail down. It’s a horrible look on him, definitely not one that makes Oscar want to shower him with praises just to see him light up over and over.
Oscar doesn’t know how to address whatever’s going on between them, whether it’s harmless flirting or a less-than-innocent game of cat and mouse. He isn’t sure who is meant to be the cat and who is the mouse or if they’re both meant to be cats, but he is certain that Lando is aware of just how attracted to him he is, but he isn’t about to take his chances with him out of fear for his own life. The captain just barely trusts him after cursing his crew out for taking the wrong person, so, naturally, Oscar is hesitant to sleep with one of his men.
Some part of him wants to proposition Lando because he knows for a fact that a man who’s self-aware of just how pretty he is surely wouldn’t make the first move, but the more sensible part of him knows that as soon as he lays a hand on him, he won’t be able to let go.
He’s not looking to spend the rest of his life aboard the Samurai, even if he has become somewhat popular amongst the members of the crew. They've been nothing but kind, if a bit callous, so Oscar quite likes them too, Logan and Guanyu, in particular, who handle the rigging with him.
“I’m bored,” Lando declares from his perch on a barrel of rum. It would be so easy to crowd between his legs and kiss the living daylights out of him.
Oscar secures his knot, giving it a small pat. “What do you expect me to do about it?”
“You can… warm my bed?”
“Not a chance.”
Lando puffs his cheeks out. “Aw, poo. Well, if you’re not going to do that, we can at least keep each other company, I s’pose.”
“Don’t you have friends on board?” Oscar asks, but he dutifully sits on the barrel that Lando gestures to.
He’s not at all surprised when Lando invites himself to perch sideways on his lap, snaking his arms around his neck. Tentatively, Oscar settles his hands on Lando’s hips, earning himself a small smile.
“George and Alex are too busy kissing and exploring each other's bodies for the hundredth time to pay attention to me. And Max... well, he's either cleaning pistols or whining about how Charles spends more time fingering the keys of his accordion than him.”
It's not surprising that on a ship full of men, there's no company to seek than the company of other men. The silence that follows would be painful if not for the little content noises Lando lets out as he nuzzles along the side of Oscar’s neck.
It goes without saying that it drives him insane, and he grips Lando a little tighter in retaliation.
Fuck, he needs a distraction.
“Where’d you get your-” Oscar gestures to his own nose, “-scar from?”
Lando immediately replies, “A fight in a tavern.”
“Oh, wow.”
He pouts. “I lost to a glass.”
“Ah.”
“But there was blood! I was so brave, Oscar,” Lando insists, and Oscar shouldn’t find it cute or the slightest bit endearing.
But because his mouth likes running itself when he least wants it to, he blurts out, “You’re adorable,” and immediately begins stammering nonsensically, unable to get another coherent word out.
To his surprise, Lando just blushes and turns his face back into Oscar’s neck.
“M’not adorable. I’m a pirate,” he mumbles.
“That’s not mutually exclusive.”
“Don’t know what that means.”
“Oscar, have you ever been to Tortuga?” Charles asks as he mops his face with his bandana. It’s nice of him to offer his help with the ropes whenever he’s not playing his beat-up accordion. “Ah, silly question. I forgot you haven’t been a pirate for long.”
Oscar isn’t sure what Charles means by that, but he reckons he fully looks the part now, ditching his sleeves, much to Lando’s pleasure and frustration, for the sake of working without as much hindrance. It was Max’s suggestion, and Oscar is pretty sure he only made it in the first place to have the satisfaction of witnessing Lando fall flat on his face.
He’s never going to admit it, but he has waited to take his shirt off until he was in Lando’s presence before just to see his mouth drop open. And he simply let Lando stare for a while before clearing his throat.
It was cute, witnessing someone as seemingly confident in his sexuality as Lando jump a little before struggling to meet Oscar’s eyes, cheeks coloring.
“-Oscar?”
But Charles waves his hand in front of Oscar’s face, snapping him out of his daze. It must be the heat.
“Tortuga?” Oscar asks. “What’s that?”
“Ahh! Charles, are you poisoning his innocent virgin mind?” Lando screeches, hopping down from the rigging.
“Not a virgin.”
“Yet you won’t fuck me. That’s virginal behavior, matey,” he retorts. Despite accusing Charles of poisoning Oscar’s supposed innocent virgin mind, he’s the one who explains, “Tortuga is where pirates get drunk and fuck whores… or each other.”
Charles huffs and crosses his arms over his chest. “I was only going to say that Tortuga is where pirates exchange information, Lando. So many of us in one place means there’s a wealth of knowledge being passed around.”
Lando blinks. “Well, yeah, but that’s boring.”
“You only ever think with your dick,” Charles retorts, pulling him into a headlock. “And your cute ass.”
Lando squeaks, and Oscar hurries to extract him from Charles’s hold before his face can begin turning a dangerous shade of red.
“Are you sure you aren’t a nobleman’s son?” Lando asks, slightly out of breath. “Because you might be my knight in…” he looks Oscar up and down, “a really revealing shirt.”
“Very funny. Haha.”
“He’s not funny,” Charles interjects. “You don’t need to indulge him.”
Lando sticks his tongue out at him after Oscar stammers in his defense that he’s nice to have around.
“Unlike you, Osc’s kind and has nice arms. I can’t wait to show him around when we dock.”
The sound of Captain Alonso’s gait is uneven as he disembarks the Samurai. Captain Alonso is an intimidating man with a wooden leg and a face that conveys mischief or anger and hardly anything in between.
He’s not unreasonable—he offered Oscar a position on his ship after capturing him, after all—but he spends all his time in his quarters or at the helm, never joining his crew at night, when they make merry to the tune of Charles’s accordion.
Oscar tries not to pull a face when Captain Alonso, clearly unused to standing on solid ground, wobbles a bit before Lewis attempts to yank him upright.
And then they both go crashing to the ground.
Lando has tears streaming down his face, which he quickly buries in the crook of Oscar’s neck to avoid getting into trouble, and his shoulders shake with mirth. Oscar squeezes his waist once to get him to stop before either the captain or the quartermaster notices.
Remaining true to his word, Lando does show Oscar around the island, skirting around tavern brawls that have been forced outside and the occasional man lying in his own vomit. He’s a charmer too, flirting with every lady wearing too much rouge and accepting lipstick kisses to his cheeks and collarbones while Oscar awkwardly stands off to the side.
“Oscar! Have a pint with us!” Lando calls from the bar. When did he get there?
When did the rest of the crew arrive too?
Oscar nurses his rum for the remainder of the evening, listening to Guanyu talk about his latest finds from his visit to the tailor’s shop.
His eyes keep wandering to Lando every time he tips his head back to take a long draught out of his own glass.
“One bedroom, aye?” the innkeeper asks, as if making sure he heard Lando correctly. “You two lovers or something?”
“No.”
Lando sighs. “Unfortunately, we’re not. Oscar, here, is simply too frugal to purchase separate rooms for a single night, mate. Denies himself of the pleasures in life, that one.”
Oscar has a feeling he knows what Lando’s insinuating. It’s not that he doesn’t want to fuck Lando. It’s just that- well, he doesn’t exactly have a good reason not to anymore, now that he’s fully integrated himself into the crew of the Samurai. If anything, he finds it hard to approach Lando about sex.
And his own feelings that taste distinctly different from lust.
“Thinks I’m not pretty enough either.”
The look that the innkeeper gives Lando is nothing short of lewd, but Lando loves the attention regardless, if the way he puffs his chest out is any indication. He likes being told he’s pretty, he likes attention, and he receives both of it in troves, but Oscar spends too much time with him back on the Samurai. It’s easy to see that he wants something more, though he’s too wary of asking for it.
“Dull one, your boy,” the innkeeper quips. “If you’re ever bored of him, Lando, I have my own room.”
Oscar wishes he could deny the accusation, but the words are stuck in his throat, burning alongside the irrational jealousy that bubbles up.
“Thanks for the offer, Jenson,” Lando replies, winking. “But I’m too tired for any sort of fun tonight.”
After allowing himself to be dragged off to their shared room, Oscar can only observe Lando as he throws himself onto the singular mattress at the center of the room without even removing his boots.
“At least take a bath,” he murmurs. “You stink.”
Lando giggles, drunk. “Because you sure smell like roses.”
Is it bad that Oscar finds him pretty like this? All starfished across what’s meant to be their shared bed while his lashes cast shadows across his cheeks?
Just to help him along, Oscar tugs at Lando’s left boot, and then his right, setting them both down at the foot of the bed.
He looks vulnerable.
“Okay, I’m picking you up now.”
“Mm,” Lando moans contentedly, curling his fingers into the front of Oscar’s shirt. “I quite like this princess treatment you’re giving me.”
Oscar promptly drops him into the basin, clothes and all, and quickly retreats before Lando’s screams can deafen him.
He busies himself by staring out the window at the stars, trying to ignore the sounds of bathing and the fact that Lando is definitely naked behind the divider. His mother taught him a bit about the stars before he left home to begin his apprenticeship, but he barely remembers any of it now.
The splashing stops, and when Lando doesn’t emerge for a while, Oscar takes it upon himself to check up on him.
It’s a mistake.
Lando is kneeling in the basin, rinsing the suds from his body.
Frozen in place, Oscar can’t stop his eyes from wandering to the dip of Lando’s lower back and the curve of his naked arse. A droplet skirts past his shoulder blades, sliding down the length of his torso and between his half-submerged thighs, tempting Oscar to reach out and rub it away.
“Oscar, it’s impolite to enter without knocking.” Lando’s voice is breathy as he tilts his head back to look at him. Oscar wants to lick the wet column of his throat.
There isn’t even a door to knock.
“I- um.” He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “Thought you drowned?”
“In this tub, mate?”
Lando sits down to demonstrate, turning to face him, but Oscar’s mind goes blank when he attempts to formulate a response.
The tub is small, but he’s sure he can fit in the space between Lando’s parted legs. They’re bent at the knee, as tan as the rest of him, despite being hidden behind his trousers every hour of the day. Knees aren’t inherently attractive, but somehow, Lando’s are, breaking the surface of the water and showing Oscar a part of him that he’s never seen before.
Or it may just be him in general.
“Since you’re here anyway, could you wash my hair?” Lando asks. He speaks softly, but his voice is too loud in Oscar’s mind.
“Uh, yeah, okay.”
Oscar has never washed someone else’s hair before, but he’s certain it’s not meant to be this intimate. Perhaps Lando is playing it up like he enjoys doing with everything else by tipping his head back into Oscar’s hands, eyelashes fluttering.
The sound he lets out the moment Oscar digs his fingers into his scalp can only be described as a whimper.
And when Lando dunks his head into the water to rinse out the soap worked into his curls, Oscar finally feels like he can breathe again. It’s taken away again as soon as Lando pops back up, convincing Oscar that he must’ve been a siren in a previous life.
Water sluices down his neck, settling in the dips of his collarbones and tracking down his smooth chest.
Oscar has never wanted to jump into the water and drown himself more.
“Didn’t you say you were tired?” he asks when he notices Lando giving him a long, meaningful look.
“Oh, that was mainly an excuse. Didn’t feel like sleeping with him.”
Oscar blinks. “Why not? As far as innkeepers go, he was plenty attractive.”
Lando tips his head back again, making him avert his eyes to the ground.
“You think Jenson’s attractive?”
“Objectively. Doesn’t mean I’d fuck him,” Oscar says curtly. “If you’re done, I’d like to bathe too.”
Lando opens his mouth.
“No, the water is filthy, so I will not be joining you.”
Oscar quickly looks away again when Lando sighs and stands up without warning, though it’s incredibly tempting to sneak a peek of his bare arse.
Watching Lando get dressed—he allows himself that much—somehow feels more intense than seeing him naked. Oscar mourns every slip of skin that gets covered by a fresh linen shirt, and his cheeks burn while Lando forgoes trousers altogether in favor of skirting around the divider with a gentle sway of his hips.
Oscar hopes he isn’t too audible as he sinks into the warm water and finally gets a hand on his aching cock.
Oscar barely recalls what happened last night after finishing his… bath.
He’s pretty sure he stumbled to the bed, where Lando was already curled up beneath the covers on one side, tucked himself in on the other side, and promptly fell asleep.
So there’s no logical explanation why he’s face-to-face with Lando, who looks so devastatingly pretty in his peaceful slumber that Oscar could weep. Awake, he’s always so vibrant with his sparkly, color-changing eyes and a wide variety of smiles, from the sly ones he wears when he wants something to the softer ones that light up his entire face when he thinks nobody’s looking.
The thing is, Oscar is always looking.
But right now, he’s holding Lando tighter than he probably should as he watches that small curl always falling over his forehead move with each even breath he takes.
Anything to avoid thinking too much about the pair of very naked legs tangled with his own clothed ones under the covers.
The rhythm of Lando’s soft breathing is enough to lull him back to sleep.
Oscar sighs contentedly at the sensation of fingers running through his hair.
He squeezes his pillow a bit tighter, and his pillow lets out a quiet wheeze.
“G’morning, Osc,” his pillow whispers, so sweetly and pats Oscar’s arm. “Ah, too tight.”
Perhaps Oscar is just having a really nice dream because Lando’s being nice to him and whimpering about how tight-
He blinks, squinting at the light filtering in through the window.
“Sorry,” Oscar says belatedly, unwinding his arm from around Lando’s waist. “Uh, and good morning.”
Lando only smiles, sending Oscar’s brain spinning too quickly into orbit far too early in the morning. Unlike Oscar, he doesn’t seem to be in any hurry, instead taking the time to stretch languidly. Oscar’s brain pauses spinning for a moment in order to leak out of his ears as he greedily takes in the arch of Lando’s back when he lifts his arms above his head and makes a small noise.
“Best sleep I’ve gotten in a while,” Lando comments, like he didn’t just simultaneously melt and freeze Oscar’s poor mind in the span of ten seconds. “Don’t you think so?”
Oscar can only nod jerkily, and he wonders when he’ll be able to hold Lando like that again. But because Lando simply knows what he’s thinking, the moment he returns from freshening up, he scoots right back into Oscar’s arms and sighs softly when Oscar tightens his hold on him.
“Fernando’s going to leave without us,” Lando mumbles. His breath ghosts over Oscar’s skin, lifting goosebumps in its wake.
“I wouldn’t mind staying here for a month,” Oscar jokes. As long as it’s with you, goes unspoken, though it seems pretty obvious, hanging in the air between them.
“That’s expensive, mate. Not even Jenson likes me enough to let me stay here for free.”
Oscar’s mood sours a bit at the mention of the handsome innkeeper’s name, and it must show on his face because Lando covers his mouth with a hand, muffling his laughter behind it. In a rare display of possessiveness to nobody but himself and Lando, Oscar grabs his hand—the one just lying right there on the covers—and threads their fingers together.
Not that he has any right to, of course, but pirates are known to simply take without asking, and holding Lando’s hand won’t cause anyone any harm…
… or so he thinks right up until Lando’s face turns such a violent shade of red that Oscar genuinely feels concerned.
“Oscar,” Lando whispers, once he seems to have recovered from what Oscar assumed to be an innocent action. The atmosphere shifts.
And now that Oscar isn’t actively worried about Lando hurting himself, he allows himself to stare at the uncharacteristically shy expression on his face as he averts his gaze to their linked hands. His lashes are devastatingly long.
“Yes?”
His lashes are devastatingly long, and they flutter when his eyes dart between Oscar’s features. Oscar’s gaze immediately dips to Lando’s lips when they part imperceptibly. Under heavy scrutiny, Lando wets them, and the blood pounds in Oscar’s ears at the flash of his pink tongue.
It can’t only be his imagination that their faces are much closer now than they were not even a minute ago.
Closing the remaining distance and pressing his lips to Lando’s would be all too easy.
Oscar opens his mouth to ask permission because of course, he needs permission to kiss him, but he’s interrupted by a loud shout from outside, and he jerks away, feeling more flustered than he has ever before.
“What’s going on?” Lando demands as he flings himself out of Oscar’s arms and begins tugging his clothes on.
Oscar ignores the heat in his cheeks and scrambles to the window, squinting at the sunlight. “Looks like a scuffle- oh, the captain’s hobbling away. Oh- oh no, he fell.”
Lando sighs, like this is a normal occurrence.
“Goddammit, Captain,” he mutters under his breath. “Come on. Let’s go join in on the fun.”
Oscar kind of wishes Lando would take his hand like he did last night when he was dragging him around the island, but between the pistol he collects from the floor and the saber that Lando tosses him, there’s no chance any hand-holding is happening anyway.
Lando hesitates in the doorway like he wants to say something, but after a moment of lingering wordlessly, he leans up and presses a quick kiss to Oscar’s cheek.
“Thanks for the night,” he says with a sly wink and promptly slips away, joining the throng outside.
It’s a miracle that Oscar even makes it to the ship at all.
The Samurai’s first altercation with the Royal Navy after Oscar officially joins the crew is when he’s in the midst of hoisting the sails.
“Oscar! Incoming!”
He’s given just enough time to tie down the ropes before he’s forced to let go of them just in time to catch Lando, who decided that leaping halfway down from the crow’s nest was a brilliant idea.
“What-”
“No time,” Lando huffs, already jumping out of Oscar’s arms and making a mad dash for the deck. “Brits on the horizon!”
He disappears from view before Oscar can get a word in, likely gone to alert the captain.
“Oscar, brace yourself!” Guanyu shouts from the other side of the stern.
The Samurai is fast, but at the moment, there’s no option but to take aim at the nearest ship before they’re fully surrounded. Oscar grabs onto the railing just in time for the ship to rock to one side with the force of a cannon blast.
Kevin and Nico tend to keep to themselves on the ship, but they’re brilliant gunmen with more experience handling artillery than anybody else in the crew, and the nearest naval ship capsizes in mere seconds.
“If we’re boarded,” Guanyu begins, as he helps Oscar lower the triangular sails, “head below decks.”
Oscar shakes his head. “I’m pretty handy with a sword. Reckon it’d be stupid if I couldn’t wield the tools I make.”
Shrugging, his friend pulls a pair of pistols from his waistband and gives them a showy twirl... before tucking them back into his belt with a disappointed sigh when the Royal Navy doesn’t succeed in surrounding the Samurai.
“Looks like Lando had the right idea taking you from town, then, but don’t tell him I said that. A pirate’s life suits you, matey.”
At the mention of Lando’s name, Oscar stiffens before hurriedly glancing around, hoping to catch a glimpse of untamable curls and a red bandana. He looks up, breathing a sigh of relief to see Lando safely back in the crow’s nest.
Captain Alonso guides his ship swiftly through the water, dodging cannon blasts from enemy ships left and right while returning fire, until only one remains on their tail. It overturns in an instant.
“Wow, they’re really bad at their job,” Oscar comments, lifting an eyebrow at the remainder of the naval fleet turning tail.
“It’s not usually the Royal Navy we need to worry about,” Guanyu replies. He grabs Oscar by the shoulder before he can tumble away when the ship rocks. “It’s the Portuguese lady pirates that never seem to get off our arses. Good thing you haven’t had to encounter them yet.”
“Oh God, don’t jinx it, mate,” Lando mutters from behind them, and Oscar whirls around to stare at him.
“Huh?”
George lopes over with Alex hot on his heels and a giant bottle of rum in one hand and a needle in the other.
“Nobody’s hurt, right?” he demands, wide eyes huge with worry.
“My ego’s one minute away from being demolished!” Lando wails miserably. “So yes, hand me the alcohol.”
“He fucked around and found out,” Guanyu explains to a still-confused Oscar. “Those ladies are really pretty, but they’re just as terrifying, and they can’t wait to sink their claws in him one way or another. What was her name again? Luisinha?”
Lando squeaks in fear and then promptly spills half the bottle. George squawks at him for wasting their rum.
“Is that the type you usually go for?” Oscar wonders aloud. “Pretty but scary Portuguese women?”
“My type has changed since then,” Lando sniffs. “I’m no longer interested in sirens that could potentially lure me to my death.”
“He had Carlos fuck him for a bit, and then Daniel,” Guanyu continues. “It’s the accents that really do it for him, apparently.”
Oscar blinks. Wait.
He craves more information, but Lando looks about ready to toss himself overboard, so he decides to put an end to his misery.
“Alright, I think I know too much about Lando’s sexual preferences already,” Oscar interjects, patting Guanyu’s shoulder. “I reckon Logan could use some help with the fore and aft, mate.”
Their little group dissolves, though Lando lingers for a bit.
“Pity I didn’t get to see you in action again,” Oscar says, breaking the silence.
Lando shrugs. “Honestly, it’s a good thing we didn’t have to fight much.” He shoves at Oscar’s shoulder. “But you should’ve gone below decks after dealing with the sail!”
“Had to make sure you weren’t in danger,” Oscar mumbles under his breath, and Lando immediately softens.
“You’re sweet, Osc, but I’ve handled myself for twenty-odd years now. Danger’s afraid of me, at this point.”
Someone like Lando shouldn’t have had to survive on his own for so long. He shouldn’t have the scar on his nose or calloused palms from handling a sword. Oscar wants nothing more than to fold him into a hug and never let go of him.
Instead, he stares into Lando’s eyes, which reflect the sea. He watches a gust of wind ruffle Lando's curls, and he can’t help but think-
Oh.
Oscar doesn’t want to, but he thinks Lando might be avoiding him.
And he doesn’t know why.
Lnado spends every hour of the day up in the crow’s nest, which is nothing out of the norm, but he also lives off of the company of his friends. So it speaks volumes that George comes to Oscar about his concerns for him.
“I have no idea,” Oscar mumbles. “He comes down to eat and sleep and goes right back up. Won’t even look me in the eye.”
George makes a wounded noise. “Blimey, that doesn’t sound like him at all.”
“Yeah. I can tell, and I’ve only known him for a handful of months.”
Oscar stares up at the crow’s nest, wondering what Lando’s thinking. He’s too far away for Oscar to read his mind.
“Maybe when we dock, you can try and corner him,” George suggests. “He’s like a skittish cat, but he can’t go anywhere once you scruff him.”
Oscar opens his mouth to ask if George literally means to pluck Lando up by the back of his neck before he quickly backtracks. “We’re docking?”
“Ah? Yeah. The captain wanted to return to the port we picked you up from in order to properly capture a nobleman. We’re running low on resources, so we could really use the ransom.”
“Oh.”
George claps his shoulder. “But don’t you worry that we’re trying to replace you. You’re still special to us, and we’re all glad you’re here.”
“I wasn’t concerned about that, mate,” Oscar replies, “but I’d like to talk to Lando beforehand.”
“Then you should try when the sun dips below the sea.”
True to George’s word, as soon night falls, Lando scrambles down the main mast, landing with a quiet thump on the wooden deck.
“Lando,” Oscar calls out, quickly crossing the length of the ship.
Lando crosses his arms, which stops him in his tracks. Not once has he ever appeared so closed off in the past, much less at all hostile towards Oscar.
“I thought we were friends, at the very least,” Lando accuses.
“We… are. Are we not?”
“Then tell me why I overheard Fernando telling Lewis that you’re leaving? Am I not important enough to hear about it first?”
Oscar blinks. “I’m leaving?”
Lando mutters a curse under his breath and marches forward to poke Oscar in the chest.
“Look, I know I’m not the brightest, but don’t try to play dumb with me. I know what I heard.”
Oscar wraps a hand around Lando’s wrist before he can punctuate his statement with another jab and pulls him close. He pretends not to hear how Lando’s breath hitches at the sudden proximity.
“I never told anyone that I’m leaving,” he says, grazing his thumb over soft skin, “because I have no plans to. I’m not sure why the captain was even talking about it to begin with.”
Lando stares at the ground. “Oh.”
“But you were avoiding me because you thought I was leaving? Why?”
“I- was not avoiding you,” he stammers, deep in denial. “That’s silly, Oscar.”
“Lando.”
“Well, the reason doesn’t matter now anyway! You’re staying here, I was just being a fool, so goodnight!”
Oscar can tell he’s embarrassed, even under the dark cover of night, and all he wants is to wring more explanations out of him. But that’s not the kind of person he is, so he lets Lando scurry away.
There is a logical explanation as to why Lando has been acting so strange, but Oscar doesn’t want to get his hopes up too high.
It feels like it’s been forever since Oscar last saw the town he called home.
He barely recognizes it, to be honest.
“You’ll have to show me around,” Lando says, nudging his shoulder because, apparently, he’s gotten over whatever ailed him for the past week, and he isn’t being weird about talking to Oscar anymore.
Oscar can’t even hold it against him either because he’s missed having Lando cling to him and his general presence and-
“I reckon I’ll have to show myself around too. Kidnapping first, then we ditch everyone else for a tour?”
Lando hums happily. “Sounds like a date!”
In the distance, Captain Alonso trips over apropos of nothing.
Kidnapping a noble is… alarmingly easy.
The boy doesn’t struggle, probably because he’s too busy trembling in presence of the captain, who personally came down to get the job done, and Lewis eagerly accepts the ransom mere minutes after the boy’s father comes scrambling out of his manor.
Spending time with Lando is decidedly not as easy.
Sure, it’s simple to talk about the town that slowly makes its way back into Oscar’s memories, his favorite bakery, the bookstore two blocks from the blacksmith shop. It’s simple, suddenly stopping when Lando gets distracted by a stray cat and decides he just needs to pick it up and take it with him.
What isn’t simple is fighting the urge to take his hand and swing it between them as they walk along the cobblestone paths or the desire to kiss the living daylights out of him because he looks so cute while showing Oscar his brand new friend.
“Uh, what would the captain say about bringing a cat onboard?” Oscar wonders, tentatively stroking the cat’s furry little head.
Lando pauses for a moment. “Well, he ended up letting you work on the ship, so I don’t think he would be opposed.”
“I-”
“Nando can pry Parrot from my cold, dead hands.”
“You named the cat already?”
“He’s just a baby, Oscar,” Lando mumbles, kissing Parrot between his sooty ears and whining softly when the cat curls into his chest and buries his tiny face in the opening of his shirt. “And babies deserve to have names.”
It’s becoming really difficult for Oscar to prevent himself from smashing their faces together.
“Um, anyway, this is where I worked before I was dragged onto the Samurai,” he says, pushing the shop door open. “Hopefully, Mark didn’t miss me too much.”
A tall man in a thick leather apron marches straight for them, and Lando makes a horrified noise when Oscar is promptly put in a headlock by his mentor.
“You’re such an idiot!” Mark shouts. “Had me worried sick just to find out a week ago that you ran off to play pirate!”
Oscar winces and inhales deeply once he’s finally released. “It wasn’t entirely my choice, Mark. They took me on my way out of the manor after delivering those blades to the lord that lives there. I don’t know how, but I was mistaken for his son.”
“You had a rather princely aura when we first met,” Lando pipes up. He looks Oscar up and down, biting the tip of his index finger and glancing at him through his lashes. “But the rugged pirate-y look suits you much better.”
And really, Oscar should be used to the flirting and the compliments by now, but he still feels his face burn. Lando just has a way of executing his words, and in front of Mark, no less.
“And you are…?”
Lando lowers himself into a graceful, albeit slightly mocking bow, all while still cradling the cat he plucked off the street. “Lando.”
“Alright, Lando, and what ship do you hail from?” Mark demands, placing his hands on his hips. “I should have a word with your captain for being so careless.”
“Everything worked out fine,” Oscar tries to interject, but the door slams open before he can utter a word.
He watches in barely concealed shock as his strict mentor’s eyes soften and well up. Mark pushes them aside to make a beeline for the door and… Captain Alonso?
“For fuck’s sake, I should’ve known!”
It feels like a fever dream, watching the captain’s peg leg get caught on the threshold, but before he can faceplant on the wooden floorboards, Mark catches him and sweeps him into-
“Oh, this is so romantic!” Lando squeals, still hugging Parrot to his chest while Oscar tosses him over his shoulder and makes a hasty exit before his eyes can be scarred for life.
“Oscar, we’re going to talk later!” Mark yells, right before the door slams shut behind him.
Outside, on the street, Lando pats Oscar’s shoulder, silently asking to be put down.
“You didn’t tell me I’d be meeting the parents during our first date,” he quips lightly, brushing himself off. “I would’ve worn something nicer.”
Oscar doesn’t even have the willpower to stutter his way through denying that it was a date. Because it was a date, for all intents and purposes.
“Please don’t imply that Mark is my father. His head will get so much bigger than it is already, and, oh God, that means Captain Alonso would also be my father. I have so many questions, yet I don’t want answers to any of them!”
Exasperated, he picks Lando back up, ignoring his protests, and sets off in search of the nearest tavern.
Oscar still gets his answers.
After a hearty meal, he’s slightly less disgruntled to receive them.
The entire crew of the Samurai congregates in the apartment above the workshop, where there is far from enough room for over twenty grown men.
“There are not enough chairs,” Oscar mutters to himself.
“Lando can sit on your lap,” Max replies dismissively, already peering into the wine cellar. “Lando, don’t look at me like that. I know you want to, of course. Oscar, do you want Lando in your lap?”
“Yes, he absolutely does,” Charles butts in and promptly pushes Lando into Oscar’s lap.
Oscar only loops his arms around Lando’s waist, smiling at the way he buries his face in his hands like he hasn’t dropped his perky butt into Oscar’s lap so many times in the past. Parrot sniffs at the leg of Oscar’s trousers and tugs at the hem with his teeth.
A plate laden high with food is set in front of Oscar.
“I’m assuming you’ll be staying on the Samurai,” Mark says. “Fernando thinks you’re coming back to work for me, but there are clearly… ulterior motives to stay.”
He glances pointedly at Lando.
“You don’t mind?” Oscar asks. “I mean, obviously, I’m not changing my mind, but. I reckon your opinion does matter a little.”
Mark sighs, and his gaze slides to the captain, who is in the process of getting very drunk. “A decade ago, I had to say my own goodbyes, which I don’t regret for the most part. But there’s still a part of me that wishes I never left.”
Lando’s head snaps up, and his pretty eyes widen. “You were a pirate.”
“Of course, I was a pirate, mate.” Mark rolls his eyes. “How do you think Oscar knows how to wield a sword as well as he does?”
“Because he’s talented and a quick learner?”
“I’m not-” Oscar nearly chokes on the mouthful of bread that Lando quickly tears off and stuffs into his mouth.
“You are,” everyone choruses, including Captain Alonso, who slams his drink down onto the table to punctuate the statement.
Oscar looks down at Parrot, who meows, and feels warm inside. A sense of belonging, which he hasn't felt in a long time.
“They’re a good crew,” Mark tells him. “Just stop by to visit me every once in a while, if only to kidnap another noble, okay?”
“Oscar?”
At the whisper of his name, Oscar shifts. Half-asleep, he vaguely makes out the silhouette of Lando’s slight figure at the stairs to his loft.
Everyone else left after one last round of drinks and tunes that Charles played on the old piano, presumably to stumble back to the ship or the nearby inns. Oscar just assumed Lando left with them, but evidently not.
Oscar isn’t awake enough to really comprehend anything aside from the warm body that slides into the bed next to his own and huddles close under the thin blankets. He throws an arm around Lando, pulling him into the crook of his body.
Lando makes a soft sound, reaching out to brush the hair from Oscar’s forehead. If his fingers linger against his cheek, well, Oscar is too busy dozing off to notice.
“Goodnight,” he murmurs.
“I love you,” Oscar barely manages to reply. “G’night.”
Already asleep, he doesn’t notice the small gasp that escapes the man in his arms.
Mark claps Oscar on the back when he departs. Oscar pretends he doesn’t see the tears threatening to spill over.
“Just make sure your Lando’s cat doesn’t trip Fonz up,” he says, and Oscar thinks his former mentor is a lot stronger than he could ever be for remaining leagues apart from the man he loves.
“Will do.”
Back on the Samurai, Oscar stands at the rail, watching the town he was raised in grow smaller and smaller.
A hand slips into his own.
“You told me you love me,” Lando murmurs softly. “Last night.”
“I did.”
His blood rushing in his ears, Oscar tears his gaze away from the shrinking port to meet Lando’s. His eyes reflect the seas, a spectrum of emotions swimming in their depths.
Oscar wants-
“So are you going to finally kiss me or what?”
Desperation aside, he pretends to think about it. “I mean, I could…”
Lando huffs. He puts his cat down before taking the collar of Oscar’s shirt and dragging him down into a kiss.
Oscar is no navigator, but in this moment, the stars have certainly aligned, and he quickly gathers Lando into his arms to kiss him back.
Lando’s fingers curl into his lapels, like he’s afraid Oscar will disappear if he lets go. There’s a sweet sort of desperation that Oscar finds almost flattering. He deepens the kiss, running his tongue across the seam of Lando’s lips and savoring the moan he lets out into the minuscule space between their mouths.
“Oscar,” Lando breathes, panting a bit. He winds his arms around Oscar’s neck, linking his fingers behind his back. “I’ve always wanted to be loved.”
They barely make it below decks, where there’s hardly any privacy to begin with.
Oscar is on him in mere seconds, pressing him up against the side of the cabin. He wedges a leg between his thighs, effectively pinning him in place as his lips find their way back to Lando’s. But before he can undress Lando, a pitiful meow sounds from the doorway, so he quickly untangles himself from Lando’s grasp and nudges Parrot back up the stairs with a few soft words and a little pat.
He takes it upon himself to bolt the door and resumes kissing up Lando’s neck, tasting salt and leaving hickeys that barely show up on his tanned skin as he tugs on his trousers insistently.
“Mm, Oscar,” Lando moans, lifting a leg to wrap around his waist and moving his hips to grind his newly naked crotch against Oscar’s clothed one just right.
In retaliation, Oscar lifts a hand to rub at Lando’s chest, circling his nipple with a light touch and feeling himself grow hard at the way he arches into it and whimpers his name again.
“Has your virginity grown back yet, and if so, can I take it?”
Lando blinks at him, overwhelmed, before an incredulous laugh escapes his red, red mouth. He’s so pretty, prettier than Oscar deserves, honestly.
“Oh, how I love you!”
In one swift motion, Oscar unlaces Lando’s shirt and tugs it over his head, immediately fitting his hands to Lando’s slender hips and diving in to mouth at the hollow of his throat. Lando tips his head back with a moan as he lets himself be carried to the bed and wraps his limbs tighter around Oscar, preventing him from moving away far enough to remove his own clothes.
“I want you on your hands and knees,” Oscar demands, and Lando only moans, nodding frantically.
“Yes, yes, please take me,” he rambles as he quickly lets go and scrabbles to turn over onto his front. “I need it- need you. ”
God, he looks delectable with his legs spread for Oscar atop his flimsy bed and his arse in the air, begging and pleading to be fucked full. Oscar can’t help but push his buttcheeks apart and lean in to lick a long stripe over his hole, just to hear him cry out and see his legs tremble uncontrollably as they struggle to hold him up. Lando’s cock leaks steadily into the sheets, and Oscar would give it a nice, languid stroke if his hands weren’t already occupied.
“Oscar, w-what?!”
“I told you,” Oscar mutters against Lando’s twitching hole, rolling his eyes, “I’m not a virgin.”
To prove his point, he laps at him again and continues fucking him with his tongue, alternating between small thrusts past the rim and kitten licks until Lando shakes apart with a high-pitched keen, coming only from having his hole played with.
Oscar kisses where Lando’s thigh meets his arse, leaving a hickey there for good measure.
“Mine,” he says, mostly to himself, but Lando moans and continues begging for his cock, despite having just had his orgasm.
“Oh God, yes. I’m yours.”
Oscar can’t help but turn Lando back onto his front to kiss him as he fucks into him so hard he sees stars. He swallows every whimper, every whine that Lando lets escape into his mouth, folding him in half to thrust deeper, and he reaches between them for Lando’s cock, thumbing over the head and the pre-cum beading at the tip.
“It’s so pretty, like the rest of you,” Oscar breathes, stroking along the shaft in time with his thrusts. “Satiny and smooth, and so wet for me.”
Lando flushes at the praise, turning his face to the side in a futile attempt to hide, but Oscar coaxes him to look back at him.
“Wanna see you when I fill you up with my cum,” he says. His voice is rough with exertion, but Lando keeps letting out these breathy moans, so Oscar has no choice but to bury himself deep inside his arse, pumping him full of his release.
Lando seizes up, clenching around Oscar’s cock as he comes, streaking their abdomens and chins with long ropes of cum, until all the energy leaves his limbs at once and he flops back onto the mattress, boneless.
Oscar slumps on top of him, trapping him in his hold.
“You swine, you’ve been holding out on me!” Lando exclaims, smacking Oscar’s arm. “I’ve been busy making a fool out of myself when you could’ve been doing me all this time!”
“I didn’t think you had any feelings for me aside from lust,” Oscar mumbles into the crook of Lando’s neck. “I liked you so much from the start that I knew it’d hurt if all you wanted was sex.”
Lando softens, hesitating for a moment before tipping Oscar’s face towards his and kissing him sweetly. He sighs against Oscar’s lips.
“I nearly walked myself off the plank when I thought I’d fallen for a nobleman.”