B for...

May. 25th, 2010 08:24 pm
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[personal profile] fairielore
Title: B for ...
Author: fairielore
Pairing: Surprise!
Rating: PG-16
Notes: Created under copious amounts of sugar/insanity.
Word Count: 1045

There was a time when the word pirate had a more vicious, cruel meaning. Such a term was reserved for the men who truly preyed on the innocent, not merely those who didn’t have enough sense to keep enough gunpowder in case of an ambush. The umbrella term was ‘privateer’, that encompassed all men who wanted to make a living off on the sea, though more often then not it didn’t accompany a piece of parchment saying they were one. But it was such a time when any man wearing a uniform seeked to exterminate them, rather they were happy as well if everyone had a little bit of extra money at the end of day. A time to coexist.

Barbossa had been a gambling man, at the fact it was the only aspect of his life he left to chance. A little bit of thrill to keep him on his toes. But as he would learn Lady Luck was not on his side – which he did not take at the time a sign of things to come, as his attention was far too captivated by the pale young man in red who seems unable to lose. With every win the eyes gleam with a dazzling shine. He keeps playing just to see those eyes light up and he soon find himself out of money to pay his debt.

“It’s not wise to gamble with what you don’t have.” The sea-green eyes are as calm as the tone and he expects nothing less from a man of his age whom is able to embrace the atmosphere of the seedy tavern.

“There is always a way to settle one’s debt.” He smiles, and tentatively takes off a silver ring embossed with a large ‘B’ and shows it to him.

“At these stakes? You’ll have to do better then that.” The young man smiles back, waiting for the next move.

Barbossa merely gives a coy smile, his eyes flickering about the other’s body and believes the bluff will be enough to settle his debt.

But he is not prepared for the other to stand up and promptly head to the counter and rent a room, and he hardly needs to look back to see Barbossa following after him up the stairs.

The room has but the basic amenities – a bed and a bedside table on each side. Their coats have already fallen to the floor, red and black intertwining in one another, just as white and tan, and coarse and silky do so as well. Despite the nature of the moment it is more then a business transaction. There is more taken and given then meets the eye.

With skin pressed upon skin and lips pressed upon lips there is more a passionate struggle for dominance then the Captain expects. He sees the shine in the boy’s eyes from earlier, the glint in between all the murmurs of calculated moves. Slowly the layers of discipline and restraint are stripped away and he ceded to the raw emotion that emits from the other. For all of the antics that would peg the other to be inexperienced is dismissed when the other takes him and there is no fumbling to be had there. There is a savageness, a cruelty as the other takes him so roughly, something his mind nor his body was prepared for. He learns exactly how dangerous it is to underestimate him with every thrust, every calm breath that mocks his lustful pants. Sinful sounds escape his lips and for every curse under his breath at their thought earn him the smallest hint of a smile. They fall apart to their proper side of the bed and he does not touch or caress the pale figure though he very much wishes to.

Stories are exchanged but Barbossa finds himself talking more then listening, sharing the stories of his many voyages and he sees a look of wonder in the other’s eyes as he speaks of the beginning of his ‘privateering’ days until now. He speaks of the treachery of the sea, of how he mutinied his former Captain on an island with but one bullet, and talks of the flights of fancy that same dear Captain had – proclaiming he had a magical compass. Magic is not something he believes in, not many any more then he believes ghost stories.

“Join my crew.” He whispers in the other’s ear and it is the first time he’s heard the other laugh in such a tone, not the amused laughter at the table every time he made another bet. This is one to say that the prospect of such a thing is ridiculous. And it is the last thing he hears as the other rests his eyes and fall into a deep slumber, as if the other decided that this particular tale has found its fitting ending, it’s punch line - him.

When he would awake in the wry hours of the morning he would find the money gone – all of it, his own and that which he’d won, his clothes hurriedly turned inside out. And a letter, more carefully done then the criminal act.

You’ve probably realized that your satchel of galleons is gone by now, as am I. I don’t fancy having a mutiny on my hands after knowing they all willingly participated in one already. I’m responsible for their wellbeing as much as I am for my own. But this will be chump change for you in a few years, my little Navy boy. Those officers of yours may not see it but I know you’re destined for great things and you’ll surpass them in a blink of an eye. You’re going to take the world by storm.

Waiting to meet you in the throes of passion or battle,

Hector Thaddeus Barbossa

On his middle finger is the embossed ring on his hand and he doesn’t try and take it off. The ring is his cross to bear, a reminder of high expectations and most importantly – a memory that he could have belonged in a world where every man doesn’t look out for himself. With that in mind he vows to stand alone on the battlefield when the time comes, whichever it may be.

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