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"A Pirate's Trade"Written By: The Plotting Housewife Disclaimer: Gundam Wing belongs to Bandai, Sotsu
and associated Parties. This work is written for pleasure not profit. Rating: NC 17 Warnings: Alternate Universe - Pirates, yes I
went there, Yaoi, Smut, Questionable Pirate Morality, Arrrrg Pairings: 2x1, 3x4 Summary: Captain Maxwell of the Shinigami, second
most feared pirate to sail the Seven Seas, unwittingly stole precious
booty from the one man who is more feared than he is. Oops. "A Pirate's Trade"
Chapter 12: Bound For Ireland The sound of slippers scuffing along the wooden plank boards alerted a dozing Duo to the approach of the catamites. He jerked awake with a snort and blinked drowsy eyes, taking in the gradual clearing visage of Heero who'd stopped a few feet away and was passively waiting for him to wake up and get off his arse. He shifted his gaze to the blond standing timidly behind him and caught the subtle clutch of his fingers in the back of Heero's tunic, holding on like a frightened child to his parent in a crowd of strangers. Duo's lip curled with a rush of possessiveness and considered ordering the boy to let go before he thought better of it. He uttered a grunt at the stiffness of his muscles as he pulled himself up from the chair and gestured for them to follow with a swipe of his hand. Let the lad cling. He wasn't a threat. He met Solo at the entrance doors and briefly clasped his wrist. Solo offered him a somewhat meek nod, his watery blue eyes expressive with trepidation. Best friend, or not, Duo was a force to be reckoned with, especially when he was angry. Solo had learned long ago to tread lightly when the ice was thin. "Are we ready?" "Aye, Sir. She is not...she is not the best -" "No matter, Solo. She will get us to Ireland. That is my only concern." "Aye, Sir," Solo agreed and fell into step beside him, not bothering to spare the two catamites behind them even a glance as they made their way to the docks. "What of the crew?" Duo asked. "Disposed of," Solo informed him. "Smith got 'imself a right gash on 'is arm, but t'is nothing dire. A few sutures should fix 'im up quick." Duo let out a soft sigh of aggravation, but nodded nonetheless. "Very well." He glanced over his shoulder, checking to make sure the boys were still behind them. They were. Heero was nothing if not tirelessly trained to stay a steady four feet behind him at all times and he knew better than to run. It didn't look as though Barton's lad was keen on testing the waters either which didn't surprise him. The little whore was as obedient as a whipped dog. Duo absurdly wondered if he'd get the chance to learn Barton's secret before the man's lackey sliced his throat. Chang himself was another force to be reckoned with. Duo still didn't know for certain how he came to be in Barton's company, but rumor had it they'd become friends after a gambit gone awry. Chang was a terrifying adversary, or so the legend went. Like Barton, Chang was often regarded as larger than life. Despite the disquiet of knowing he was soon going to come face to face with the two most dangerous men alive, Duo hoped the man himself was true to his lore. It would not do to succumb to a lesser opponent. A pirate's honor was first and foremost, deemed more valuable than his life. It was preferable to die with honor, than to survive without it. He would fight to the death and if he was to meet his demise at Barton's, or Chang's hand, it would be as a worthy nemesis, not a coward. He glanced behind him again and met the blue eyes of Barton's catamite, a little surprised when he noticed the hard edge to them, a hint of rebelliousness and dare he say it? Strength. It was gone almost as quickly as it came and then the lad returned to staring at the back of Heero's head as he shadowed the other boy step for step. Duo's gaze dropped down, taking in the hand that still clutched the back of Heero's tunic and was even more surprised that his catamite had not yet shaken him off. Heero was intensely unfavorable to physical contact, tolerating Duo's touches only because he was required to. The rare times when one of the crewmen, under the influence of rum, became overzealous and foolishly grabbed the boy, it had not gone over well. Normally, his men knew better than to lay hands upon his catamite. There were times when they forgot themselves, or the weeks at sea with no sexual outlet took precedence in their minds, overriding rational thought. Heero's soft, young skin, exotic beauty, and lovely scent was too much to resist for a wretched, drunken cutthroat who was more than happy to be castrated by his captain as long as he could reap the benefits beforehand. They just never expected Heero himself to retaliate. But a captain must keep his men satisfied and relatively happy. Throw them a bone on occasion otherwise he might find himself gullet-deep in mutiny. When they docked, the crew was permitted to visit the brothels before performing their tasks as well as after. They typically didn't stay on land for more than a few days as Duo much preferred the sea. And unless they were in good standing with the local authorities through bribes and trades, they ran the risk of capture, or death. Before he'd known the blond lad was Barton's catamite, he'd given him to his men knowing full well what was to become of him. He'd taken Heero to bed that night with the little whore's cries ringing in his ears, mingled with the raucous cheers of his crew as they had their way with him. Mercifully, the whelp's wailing didn't last long and he was able to bugger his catamite in relative peace and afterwards, allowing the soothing sound of ocean waves crashing against Shinigami's hull to lull him to sleep. He hadn't slept well that night and even less so since learning the boy's true identity which in all honesty, had only been a day. It seemed like a lifetime ago and Duo wasn't sure why. He wasn't even sure what had been disrupting his normally restful sleep since the lad's capture. Heero was not present during the abduction as he'd been locked inside Duo's room at the inn, but somehow he'd known and that suspicion was confirmed as he listened to the boy's cries while pinned beneath his captain. It was difficult for either of them to feel pleasure with the sounds of rape in the background and neither of them managed to climax. Duo was troubled by the distant look in his catamite's eyes and the softness of his cock, lax even when Duo employed all the best tricks that usually never failed to reduce Heero to mere whimpers and pleas for more. It hadn't worked that night and despite Duo's need to fuck his frustration into the boy, he found it difficult to stay hard himself and eventually just gave up, rolling off Heero's limp body with an irritated huff and slinging an arm over his eyes. He fell asleep that way, no words said between them, though the silence was gravid, tense with condemnation. But Duo's misgivings weren't quite enough to put an end to the boy's torment and he wound up paying for it when all of the hard work he'd put into Heero's training began to backfire. There wasn't much Heero could actually do to him, but he objected in his own way. He no longer responded during sex, instead lying frigid and immobile like a dead fish which was infuriatingly effective in killing Duo's libido. Duo found himself getting the cold shoulder. When he went for kisses, Heero turned his head away. The warmth that he'd displayed previously was gone and Duo quickly learned how much that bothered him. It was a thousand times worse than Heero's protests in the early days of his capture. At least then, he'd been responsive, vibrant. Alive. The flip side was what Duo imagined making love to a corpse was like and that simply would not do. His first instinct was to punish, but surprisingly, it was Solo that changed his mind. "He's not doing it to spite ye." Duo looked up from his cup of ale and glowered at his friend, already on his sixth rum of the evening. Solo's eyes, soft with drink, but wise in their own right gazed solemnly at him from across the table. Duo scoffed and spun his stein between fidgety fingers. "I beg to differ." "He's doing it because he's got principles. Noble ones. He knows what is happening to that boy and he believes it's wrong. Let 'em have this. He feels for the lad," Solo murmured, tapping his chest. "In 'ere." "He's never even met the kid. That's what he's there for. He's a whore," Duo muttered and leveled a suspicious eye on the strangely lucid man who by all rights should have been drooling on himself by now. "Why haven't you made sport of him yet?" Solo shrugged and leaned back, resting a booted foot on the table. He fingered the rim of his stein in silent contemplation and Duo waited patiently for his answer. "I like 'em better when they ain't scared an' helpless," he finally said. It was so soft, Duo almost didn't hear him and wondered if he was embarrassed. "He's a pretty lad, but -" "But you're not a rapist," Duo finished for him, feeling lower than a cur. "You must think I'm a devil." "I do not," Solo insisted, his eyes hard. "Yer a pirate and yer priorities are in the right place. Ye think of yer men and ye want what's best for us." Duo drummed his fingers on the table, wondering why that reassurance didn't make him feel better. "He's an innocent, that lad," he admitted and maybe that was why. He'd thrown an innocent young man to the wolves. Someone who'd done nothing to deserve it. "And ye don't hurt innocents," Solo reminded him with a hint of sadness in his voice. Or was that disappointment? He pointed an unsteady finger at Duo, the first sign he'd seen that the man was less than sober. "That's why ye feel guilty." But Duo wasn't ready to admit defeat. Yet. "Who says I feel guilty?" "Ye do," Solo insisted with a decisive nod. "I can see it all over yer face. I know ye. I've known ye since we was wee laddies. Don't think I don't know guilt when I sees it." Duo's mouth curled up in wry grin. "You're not as dim as you pretend to be sometimes, you know that?" Solo returned the grin, exposing a row of uneven teeth. "I'm an observer. Ye value me for me insight. Someone needs to be the voice of morality 'round 'ere." He tipped his head back with a loud bark of laughter. "Since when did you learn such big words?" Solo's shoulders shook with silent laughter. "T'is the benefit of bein' friends with such a smart lad," he said with a cheeky wink. He drained his cup and slammed it down, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. "I've learned a lot from ye. I don' think ye know how much I admire ye. Ye saved me life, me soul." Duo's expression softened at the confession. "I don't know about the soul part. I am fairly certain we are both damned." Solo shrugged, seemingly unbothered. "If there's a God up there somewhere, He abandoned us long ago." "Perhaps it is us that abandoned Him." "Mayhap. T'is no matter. I'll follow ye to the ends of the earth. God ain't done nothin' for me." *** Duo eyed their new ship from the edge of the dock, distaste written all over his face. The hijacked vessel was a Be'landre, one of the larger ones he'd seen, but still small in comparison to the Shinigami, a Sloop designed and built by an esteemed Dutch engineer and nautical professor who made his fortune selling his craft to pirates, unbeknownst to the University. The Johannah was relatively well-kempt, sturdy and fully equipped to sail, already stocked which worked in their favor. Still, it would take some getting used to as they were all accustomed to more space at sea. It would have to do and so help him, if Barton sunk his Shinigami, heads were going to roll, starting with the little blond whelp that stood just off to his right. "This is it?" Heero's dubious voice carried across the coastal winds and Duo couldn't suppress his insulted scowl to save his life. "Mind your mouth, boy, or I'll be slappin' it into next week," he growled, leveling a threatening glare on his catamite. "I'll not be listenin' to your sass, so bite your tongue before I take the paddle to ye." Heero cocked his head to the side, his expression one of guileless curiosity. "Did you know your accent changes when you're angry?" Duo bristled and pointed a finger at the ship. "Get yer arse up there and take your Siamese twin with ye before I whip ye both so hard, yer mothers will feel it in their graves!" Heero backed down and Duo wasn't sure if it was because he himself didn't wish to get whipped, or if he was more concerned with the other boy being punished. Oddly enough, he found himself actually wanting to know how strong this bond between the two catamites was. Was it simply two young men in similar predicaments finding common ground, or did it go further than that? Were there genuine feelings between the two and how deep did those feelings go? He observed their ascent up the ramp, his sharp eyes taking in the way Heero clasped the other's hand and decided, maybe irrationally so, to see for himself. He stepped forward, quick strides of his long legs until he reached them and grasped the hem of the blond's shirt, flipping it up and exposing his naked backside. To his astonishment, Heero spun around, yanked the other boy behind him, and snarled at Duo like a mother bear protecting her cub. The shock lasted for only a moment before Duo, suddenly enraged, swung his arm and backhanded Heero across the face. He watched with a dark surge of vindication as his catamite reeled from the force, staggering on unsteady legs and then dropped to his knees, stunned from the blow. The blond crouched down, placing hesitant hands on Heero's back as the lad recovered. Duo stood over them both like an ominous shadow, shaking with fury. "Don't you ever display aggressiveness towards me again, boy," he growled, voice deep and laced with the threat of violence. "Unless you want to spend the next month in the bilge and covered in welts, I'd advise you to remember your place." Heero bowed his head in submission and with the other boy's help, got his legs back under him. They walked the rest of the way up in subdued silence, the blond's arm around Heero's hunched shoulders. Duo remained where he was, still angry, but even more disturbed. Heero had never behaved that way before, not even in the early days of his capture. It brought to mind the tales he'd told him during the warm summer nights of the previous year while sailing past the South of France, once Heero had finally, grudgingly, accepted his lot. Drowsy with afterglow, but unable to sleep, Heero unraveled the mystery of his past, whispering his confessions into the hollow of Duo's throat while Duo stroked a hand up and down his sweat-dampened back, listening with rapt attention. One of three sons born to a Japanese mother and English father, Heero and his brothers were groomed for the Tokugawa Shogunate, trained to serve the regional shoguns and their families. In essence, they were taught that their lives held no true meaning aside from their purpose of guarding the shoguns, acting as mere human shields when their warlord masters were in danger. Expendable tools to carry on centuries' long conflict that had divided their lands with the spilt blood of the innocent. The night before his initiation into the Minamoto Family's guard was to take place, Heero went awol, sneaking out of his family home in the middle of the night and traveling on foot, then on horseback across the country until he reached the coast and escaped as a stowaway on an illegal merchant ship. He hadn't known where he was going, nor did he much care. His only hope was to find a better life, a meaningful purpose. A place where he was more valuable than a body meant only to take bullet, or blade. Of course, that endeavor turned out to be more difficult that he'd thought. His purpose was different, but no less dehumanizing. Bullets for buggery. Heero wasn't sure which was worse until after eighteen grueling months of sexual degradation. On a fateful October night, he opened his legs for a beautiful man with indigo eyes, long chestnut hair, and a voice as smooth as velvet. He oozed seduction from every pore, made even the most humiliating slurs sound as if they were spoken by an angel. He played Heero's body like a finely tuned instrument, somehow instinctively knowing his most erogenous places and exploiting them with the shameless abandon of a man who already knew his soul was damned to the darkest pits of Hell and had nothing to lose. He made Heero weep with pleasure, forget his flagrant existence, even his very name as he was taken to heights of sensation he never knew were possible. Later, Heero would realize the gravity of his mistake. That he'd allowed this man, who'd so generously offered him a goblet of sinfully expensive wine and a delectable wedge of German chocolate before taking him to bed, past the carefully erected walls he'd built around himself. He'd let his guard down, disregarded his own rule about accepting any tokens from his customers and was reminded the hard way of why he'd made that rule in the first place. The wine was laced with an opiate, one that enhanced Heero's arousal and pleasure, but also rendered him powerless against his subsequent abduction off the streets of Bangladesh, the place he'd tentatively come to call home. By the time he was cognizant again, he was already aboard the Shinigami and nearly fifty knots out to sea. Trapped and enslaved by a man he'd soon come to learn was one of the most notorious pirates of the western world. And the rest was, as they say, history. *** Duo stood in the center of the ramp, watching with narrowed eyes as the catamites were separated and taken to their designated places. Heero to the captain's cabin and the blond to the bilge. He tensed at the warm hand that closed over his shoulder, not in the mood for camaraderie, but making no move to shove the offender away. "Ye alright, Cap'n?" Solo rasped into his ear, loud enough only for the ears of the man the words were intended for. When Duo didn't answer, he offered an uneasy chuckle in an attempt to lighten the gloomy atmosphere. "I think ye knocked the lad silly." "Did you see what he did, Solo?" Duo asked, his eyes still trained on the bow where his catamite had disappeared only moments ago. "Aye," Solo answered solemnly, destroying Duo's dim hope that no one had witnessed that indignity. "Lad needs to be taken in hand, he does. Reminded of 'is place." Duo shook his head and continued his ascent up the ramp, Solo matching him stride for stride. "He's never done anything like that before. What am I going to do with him?" "Your boy cares for that lad. He -" "There is no place for such nonsense," Duo barked, stepping onto the bow and rolling up the billowed fabric of his sleeves. "I do not know what has gotten into him. He's acting like a den mother to Barton's little whore and that is unacceptable." He flipped his braid over his shoulder and gave Solo a stern look. "Innocent, or not, that boy is the enemy and he will be treated as such. Is that understood?" Solo hesitated and chewed his lip, a habit of his when he was nervous. "Ye goin' to kill 'im?" "If Barton forces my hand. It's up to him whether the lad lives, or dies." Solo nodded in defeat, at odds with the idea of slaughtering the boy, but knowing it was out of his hands. "Aye, Sir." Duo read the reticence clearly and lifted his chin. "You doubt me?" "Of course not, Sir! I've never doubted ye." "Until now," Duo surmised. "Do not insult my intelligence, Solo." "I mean no disrespect. I only wish there was a way to return him safely to his cap'n." Duo slammed the port closed and flipped the latch with a muttered, "The time for wishing ended the day we became men, Solo. The world is not fair. Best to be remembering that, savvy?" He straightened up, and puffed out his chest, drawing in a deep breath. "Weigh anchor and hoist the mizzen, lads! We're burning daylight so let's not dally."
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