Alternate Universe
Disclaimer: Not mine, I'm just letting 'em out for some fun. <g> I'm penniless, so don't sue.
Summary: Things aren't always what they seem.
Author's Notes: Thanks to DarkCherry and Kris for beta'ing this. Any final mistakes are mine. I really have to stop watching classic movies, they only get me in trouble. <g>
This is strictly a PWP, no plot whatsoever.
Feedback: Crave it. :-)
Isle of Tortuga, Caribbean seas, 17th century
Captain Chris Larabee strolled leisurely through the labyrinth of dusty little streets, enjoying the rare comfort of solid ground beneath his feet. Also known as 'The Phantom' for his surprise attacks on any ship unfortunate enough to cross his path, Larabee took great pride in his ship, the Flying Horse, and the small -- but fierce -- crew with whom he fought the Spaniards.How he'd become a pirate, a notorious one at that, he couldn't say. It'd just happened. And he couldn't really regret it. There was nothing quite like the sea -- beautiful, cruel, free.
A commotion from the town's square brought him back from his reverie and he approached curiously. It was still early in the morning and the slave markets were only now beginning to rise, gathering the usual hungry crowd. There were all kinds of buyers buzzing about -- the ones looking for men to mind the ships, the ones looking for a slave to work on their fields, or the ones who just wanted a new whore for the brothel houses. He wasn't particularly fond of slave markets, but he knew better than to try and stop it. He'd never make it out alive.
He watched the proceedings with an unemotional eye, seeing slave after slave being sold, be it man, woman or child. He was about to leave when the merchant leered, "Last one, lads. Fine slave, new this morning. Bring him out," he ordered to his helper, who disappeared inside a tent only to return a moment later with the slave.
Chris held his breath at the sight of the slave. A white man in his early thirties, he had chestnut hair and pale green eyes radiating hostility towards the merchant and the crowd, even with his hands bound behind his back. He wore black pants, tight enough to reveal a sturdy body; white ruffled shirt hung open mid-chest and black knee-high boots. "This is Ezra. Has the eyes of a cat and the cunning of a fox," the merchant told the crowd, a nearly prideful tone in his voice. "Tried to escape three times, he did. It'll take a little taming, but he'll make a great slave, lads. Strong and intelligent, this one is. Now, who will give me five pieces for him?"
"Five!" someone shouted from the crowd.
"Seven!" another voice called out.
"Very good! Seven from the brothel master! Who else?" the merchant crooned, and Chris could almost see him salivating at the thought of so much money.
"Ten!" he heard a new voice shout, blinking as he realized it was his own.
The merchant gaped at him for a moment, obviously having recognized him, then nodded. "Ten pieces of gold from Captain Larabee. Anyone else?" Chris threw a glare to the crowd, who were wise enough to remain silent until the bidding was finished. "Sold to Captain Larabee! Captain, please, come up to my humble tent to claim your slave. That'll be all for today, lads. Come back tomorrow for fresh merchandise."
Chris watched as the merchant's helper dragged Ezra back inside of the tent, then followed behind, his hand already on his purse. "Here, merchant," he said, giving him the gold pieces. "Can you have the slave brought up to my ship? It's anchored in the bay."
"Yes, Captain, of course," the merchant replied, bowing slightly.
"Good. And merchant... double-cross me and you won't wake up in the morning. Do I make myself clear?"
"Of c-course, Captain," the man stammered. "I'll have my helper deliver your slave immediately."
"See that he does," Chris glared at the man again for effect, then left the tent and the market to finish his walk. It would give him enough time to try and understand what he was going to do with a slave and why he'd bought him in the first place.
*~*~*
When he returned to the Flying Horse, he found Ezra in his cabin, sitting on a chair with his wrists still tied behind his back. And the hostility was still there, although he could also see fear and apprehension lurking in the green eyes. Chris remained silent, watching his new purchase fidgeting in the chair as the silence stretched between them.
"What do you want from me, sir? Why did you buy me from that scoundrel?" Ezra finally asked, apparently tired of their waiting game.
Chris sighed. "I've been asking myself that question since I left the market place."
"And what is your answer?"
"I liked the way you looked," Chris admitted. "I've always been partial to men as bed partners. But it was something else as well," he approached the other man. "Stand up," he ordered softly. Pulling a knife from his belt, he cut the ropes holding Ezra captive. Then he looked deeply into the green eyes. "You didn't belong there, it wasn't right. I don't know how to explain it, Ezra, but I couldn't let you be sold into slavery or to one of the brothels."
"Yet you wish me to do the same with you," Ezra replied, no accusation in his tone, mere curiousity.
"Yes. But I won't force you. I'll make arrangements so you can keep the quarters next to mine, you're going to be my guest, nothing more. We're sailing off in the morning. If by the time we reach land you still don't want me, you're free to go. But whatever you choose, you'll never be a slave again, I promise."
He remained still under the intense green stare perusing him. "You would abide by your words? You would set me free?" Ezra asked dubiously. "Yes."
"I..." Chris watched some inner-struggle going on within Ezra, then to his surprise the other man blushed slightly. "I believe I have never mentioned not being interested, sir. I simply fail to see why you would desire me in such a way. Your name and reputation are well known, Captain Larabee. For a man such as yourself finding a suitable bed partner must be no hardship."
"I'm not looking for a mindless rendezvous, Ezra. For that I could go to one of the brothels in Tortuga. I'm looking for a companion, someone to share my life with. Being the captain of a pirate ship can be an adventure, but also very lonely. I don't know if you are that companion, but I don't want to miss the chance of finding out. Help me find out?"
"Not as your slave?"
Chris smiled. "No. As my lover. For as long as you want."
Ezra smiled back, looking almost bashfully into Chris' eyes. "I've never --"
"We'll go slow, I promise. Come on," Chris reached for Ezra's hand, moving them to the bed.
He removed the other man's clothes slowly, hands and lips caressing smooth skin as he went along. When Ezra was finally naked, Chris took off his own clothes and laid down on the bed beside his lover. He leaned down, capturing Ezra's mouth in a deep kiss, taking his time tasting and exploring the moist haven until the need for air forced them apart.
He reached for his lover's growing cock, stroking it to full hardness as Ezra groaned and arched helplessly into his touch. His tongue lapped at the younger man's nipples, teeth nibbling softly until the little nubs were pebbled hard. Only then did he go down on his lover, licking a straight line from Ezra's chest to his groin. Reaching his destiny, Chris closed his lips around the head of Ezra's cock, feeling him arching from the bed in ecstasy, hands gripping the sheets with white knuckles.
Fighting the urge to grin at the wantoness of the man in his bed, Chris grasped his lover's hips, preventing him from thrusting as he took more of the length into his mouth. He licked and sucked the weeping cock, drawing it deep into his mouth, skillfully manipulating the other man until he was begging for release.
Knowing that any more stimulus would only make the other man come, Chris reached for a jar containing an oily substance he'd adquired just for that purpose."Ezra? Ezra, look at me," when he was certain he had the other man's attention, he showed him the jar. "You can still say no. We don't have to go any further."
Ezra smiled gently, then nodded. "Do it."
He coated his fingers with the oily substance, watching as Ezra turned on his stomach, offering himself to Chris. Not wanting to betray his promise to go slow, Chris slid first one, then two fingers gently inside Ezra's body, loosening the tight ring of muscle for his impalement.
He nearly dropped the jar as Ezra pushed back sensually against his fingers, gasping loudly as Chris' digits brushed against his pleasure nub. Nearly out of control, Chris removed his fingers, coating his own hard cock with the oil.
Taking a deep breath, he positioned his cock against Ezra's anus. "Ready?" he whispered.
"Yes."
Both men moaned as Chris began to push into the willing body beneath him, hands grasping his lover's hips for leverage. A few slow thrusts and he was fully sheathed inside Ezra's body. He pressed his face against his lover's smooth back, giving them both enough time to adjust to their union.
"Chris... Move," Ezra pleaded softly, a sheen of sweat covering his body and making him glow in the dim light.
"You're mine, Ezra," Chris told him softly, then started to thrust. He wrapped his hand around Ezra's cock, pumping it in time with his thrusts, a wave of pleasure starting to spread all over his body as they moved as one.
Ezra bucked helplessly against him, moaning and writhing continuously, "Yes... Chris... Yes..."
Chris felt his lover's shaft swell in his hand, then felt the channel surrounding him, squeezing him into completion. Both came shouting each other's names, Chris collapsing onto Ezra's back.
*~*~*
Later, feeling sated and relaxed for the first time in days, Chris opened his eyes, taking him a moment to realize he was not on a ship in the Caribbean sea. He was back in his cabin, cuddling up to a warm body on his bed. He was still Chris Larabee, the unspoken leader of the 'Magnificent Seven', hired by Judge Orrin Travis to watch over Four Corners.
"Why is that," a southern accent drawled lazily from beside him. "Pray tell, that each time we indulge in a sexual fantasy I'm always the virgin? And I won't even mention the enormity of times I've been the slave, kidnapped, lost explorer, and so on."
Chris grinned. "Can't always be a gambler, Ezra. Besides, I like you submissive," he chuckled at the decisive unelegant snort from the other man at his last statement. "It's the only time I can get you to listen to anything I tell you."
Ezra chuckled. "Well, we do have to keep up appearances, Mr. Larabee."
"Do you have to try so hard? I think Buck and JD are runnin' a bet on which one of us will shoot the other first!"
"I'm sorry, Chris," Ezra told him, looking everything but. "I'll try to control my performance from now on. But for now..." he pulled Chris back on top of him. "Why don't you make me yours again, Captain Larabee?"
Not needing any further encouragement, Chris pounced, pinning a laughing Ezra to the bed, mouth latching onto the younger man's neck to kiss and bite, marking him as his. Life in Four Corners was often wild and dangerous, the west still too untamed for man to live peacefully. But as long he had Ezra by his side Chris knew it would be alright. In life or fantasy, he'd found his companion.
THE END
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