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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" Warning for non/dubcon, child abuse, and underage. Chapter 3: Fateful Encounters, Part One From the moment of puberty, Quatre had been forced to deal with the dark nature of men. Thanks to his delicate, but curvy build, and his rather feminine face, he was a prime target for amorous men. At best, enduring the brushing of fingers against his skin, the groping and pawing of his groin and backside. At worst, whisked into dark corridors, whimpering in fear and humiliation from the hot breaths and growls against his neck as large hands delved into the waistband of his breeches. At the age of thirteen, he was pinned against a wall by one of his father's advisers. The man, old enough to be his grandfather, had humped against Quatre's clothed arse, whispering the darkest of perversions into his ears of all the things he wanted to do to the boy. Mercifully, he hadn't taken it any further, but the incident left Quatre shaken and terrified. When he reported what happened to his father, Zayeed Alfyaiz slapped him and ordered him to stop tempting good men with his sinful wiles. Two weeks after he turned fifteen, Sultan Murad IV had summoned the Valis to the Palace in the Saudi Arabian capitol and Quatre was also expected to attend the summit with his father. Zayeed had made it perfectly clear that Quatre's ambitions for himself were worthless. He'd wanted to be a musician. Something that his father not only balked at, but laughed at and dismissed as preposterous. Quatre was being groomed to be the next Vali of the Eastern Saudi Province, a position in which he abhorred. He couldn't stomach the idea of spending the rest of his life in the staunch, stuffy, and haughty atmosphere of politics, but he was too powerless to do anything about it. So he went to the summit because he was fifteen and he'd had no choice. He was bored nearly to tears, but donned the mask he was forced to use when in the company of his father's friends and acquaintances. His manners were nothing if not impeccable. He smiled charmingly, bowed, and kissed hands like the good little heir he was and tried not to regurgitate the lamb he'd eaten for lunch. Well into the afternoon, he realized he'd unwittingly caught the eye of Sayib, Prince Akhim's nephew. He was a handsome young man of about twenty and Quatre found, once he'd noticed the man's smoldering gaze directed at him, that he was equally fascinated in ways he had yet to truly understand. Confused by the jolt of heat that flared in his groin at the knowledge that this young man was looking at him in a way that he was fairly certain only lovers did. He felt an odd sense of giddiness and excitement and had to rearrange his washah as subtly as he could to cover the slight tent in his breeches. It was the pivotal moment when he realized exactly what he was. In his father's eyes, it was worse than being an infidel. Even with the young girl who had been betrothed to him since the age of ten, he felt absolutely nothing towards her except for the fact that he cared about her welfare. Having been in contact with her on quite a few occasions because her father was a close family friend, he could honestly say he'd never felt even an inkling of arousal, nor joy at the prospect that she would one day be his wife. The thought of bedding her made him queasy despite her exceptional beauty. He'd known something was wrong with him when his male cousins had to reach down and adjust themselves whenever she came around and he found himself not responding in kind. Not even a hint of interest in his groin. He'd had the suspicion when his fantasies centered around boys instead of girls, but it wasn't confirmed until he came face to face with raw lust wrapped up in one gorgeous black haired, brown eyed, olive skinned package. Intrigued, but terrified of the revelation, he stuck close to his father's side, even after the older man chided him for being so clingy. "Quatre, why don't you go play with the other children," Zayeed admonished, pointing towards a group of kids that looked no older than eight. Insulted, Quatre tried hard not to glare as he stepped away, heading for the window instead of towards the hyperactive children that were hollering and jumping around despite their caregivers exasperatingly trying to calm them. He lingered awkwardly by the window, fidgeting with the tasseled drawbacks that held the silk and muslin drapes out of the way and attempted to talk his burgeoning erection down. "You look lost." He jumped three feet into the air and clamped a hand over his mouth to stop the startled screech that wanted to escape. He spun around, blinking shocked eyes up at the man who was responsible for his current predicament. The young prince chuckled, amused by his reaction and rested a steady hand on Quatre's shoulder. Quatre felt the warmth of that hand burn through his skin and had to force himself not to flinch at the touch. "You're as jumpy as a cornered mouse," the prince said and Quatre's knees almost buckled at the sound of his voice. Like smooth honey and a hint of spice. "No need to fret, my friend. I won't bite." He leaned forward, his lips catching on the shell of Quatre's ear. "Hard." Quatre reared back, his expression scandalous. "Your Highness, you mustn't speak that way." He glanced around, paranoid that his father was watching with those brown hawk eyes of his. He was pretty sure the prince was flirting with him and couldn't even begin to imagine the disapproval he would receive for inciting yet another man's lust. The prince's eyes gleamed, his amusement never faltering. "My grandfather is the Sultan. I can speak however I wish. I couldn't help but notice the way you looked back at me earlier." Damn. "I'm...sorry about that, your Highness. I did not mean to offend." "Don't be silly! I was looking at you first. I must say, you captured my attention. You do not blend in with the rest of us." Quatre face was flaming. "I am...was the son of one of my father's concubines. She was French. She died giving birth to me." He looked away in shame, unsure why he was even telling the man this. "I was an accident. An abomination. The only reason I'm the heir to my father's position is because I'm the only male child." The prince leaned against the wall beside him. "I see. Your father does not approve of you." It wasn't a question and Quatre snorted and shook his head. "That's putting it lightly." "For more reasons than the fact that your mother was a whore." Quatre shot him a glare before he remembered who he was speaking to. "It's more to do with me, I suppose. I'm not fulfilling my duties in a satisfactory way." He really didn't want to get into how he wasn't "manly" enough for his father. Though he discovered the prince was actually easy to speak to. He'd already disclosed more information to him within the first few minutes than he had to people he'd known for years. "I understand. Judging by how flustered you are around me, I can only guess your father is also aware of your...preferences." Quatre cringed, the action completely involuntary. He didn't want to admit that, but knew he already had. There was no use lying about it. The prince had already figured it out. He only hoped it wouldn't be used against him. He said nothing, knowing that his silence spoke volumes. To his surprise, the prince spoke for him, his tone hushed so as not to be overheard. "You needn't fear anything from me. I also prefer males." He turned his gaze on Quatre, his eyes like warm, melted chocolate and Quatre was hypotized...and hopelessly aroused. "I find you exceptionally beautiful. I know you're Persian, but you must know that your colouring is quite exotic for this region. I have a feeling I am not the first man to be taken by your fair beauty." Quatre coughed into this fist, his face burning. Indeed he was not, but unlike the previous encounters he'd had where he'd been subjected to attention he didn't want, this time, with this man, his mind and body craved those very same things. His cock was now fully hard and throbbing within the confines of his breeches. His body flared with heat, screaming to be touched. "I - I've never - I mean I've been touched, but not...not by anyone I've wanted -" He cut himself off, feeling like a bumbling fool. "I'm sorry." "No need to apologize. I'm honestly not surprised that you have been accosted. I'm sorry that you had to endure that...Quatre, is it?" Quatre nodded, his eyes wide as he stared up at the prince. "Y - yes, your Highness." "Now, stop with the 'your Highness' nonsense," the prince scoffed. "Call me Sayib." "Of course, your - Sayib." He blushed and looked down at his shoes, embarrassed and beyond flattered, especially when he heard Sayib's soft chuckle. "It's no wonder men are always trying to bed you. You are truly precious." Quatre's face couldn't have gotten any redder if he'd dipped it in crimson paint. "Stop." Sayib smiled down at him. "Would you like the royal tour of the palace?" Quatre looked up in surprise. "Are you sure? I would think -" "This party is boring me to tears and I'm sure you feel the same. Nothing but a bunch of old stiffs." Sayib nudged his chin at the congregated Valis and various politicians gathered in a heated debate about the ongoing conflict with the Hebrews and Gentiles. Quatre searched for his father and found him in the midst of the argument. Perhaps he could step away for a bit. Knowing Zayeed, once he was immersed in a discussion about infidels, it would take hours before he even thought to check on his son to see how he was fairing. He chuckled and nodded in agreement. "Yes, that's true. Alright. Let's go." *** He wasn't even sure how it happened, or what led up to it. His mind was too high in the clouds, his head dizzy as he was kissed breathless, to care much about the hows and the whys. All he could remember was Sayib ushering him into an empty suite, wrapping powerful arms around his waist, and sweeping him into a strong embrace. He clutched the man's biceps and whimpered as Sayib's tongue pushed its way into his mouth. Far too aroused to worry about the consequences of being caught, he lacked the mental wherewithal to protest when Sayib worked his mouth down his cheek, over his jaw, and suckled at the skin of his neck. The hands at the small of his back slid down, cupping handfuls of his buttocks and squeezing. The only thing on Quatre's mind was surrender. His brain was too hazy to keep up as he was stripped bare, watching in amazement when Sayib knelt before him and took his weeping erection into his mouth. He came embarrassingly quick, clutching Sayib's broad shoulders as the prince swallowed him down. Foggy with satiation and afterglow, he stumbled as he was pulled across the room by the hand. There was a chair in the corner of the bedroom and Sayib sat down on it, gently coaxing Quatre into his lap. He'd already fished his erection out of his breeches and it arched up over his belly, rubbing against Quatre's groin as the boy settled his bare bottom onto the prince's thighs. Quatre had no idea where the oil came from, assumed Sayib must have carried the vial in his trousers. He leaned forward when Sayib pulled his head down. He rested his cheek against the meaty shoulder and closed his eyes as arms held him securely against a solid chest. The fingers of Sayib's right hand skimmed down the crack of his arse and Quatre tipped his hips up to give the prince easier access. He knew what was going to happen. He was smart enough to put two and two together and oddly, he wasn't afraid. His cock began to swell again at the knowledge that he was about to get buggered and it was the final nail in the coffin that crushed any remaining doubts that he was a filthy sinner. Strangely enough, the acceptance of that only fed his arousal and he mewled against Sayib's shoulder, rubbing his cock on the man's belly. Sayib's finger found his opening and breached it. The very act of penetration made his body flare with heat. He muffled his moan, drooling on Sayib's shirt and pushing his hips back to get the digit deeper inside him. Sayib huffed a soft laugh into the back of his neck. "Oh, you like that, don't you?" Quatre whimpered in response, pleasure skyrocketing as the prince's smooth voice rumbled against his ear. "I knew from the moment I laid eyes on you that you were made for this. Mmm, you sweet thing. I'm going to bugger you good." Beyond words, Quatre nodded desperately, hips rocking against the thrusting hand. The finger disappeared and a moment later, the oiled tip of Sayib's cock pierced him. He bit down on the man's shoulder and squeezed his eyes shut as pain lanced up his backside. "Ssh...just relax, baby. I got you. I promise it'll feel so good." After what seemed like endless moments of agony, the sting subsided and Quatre panted against Sayib's shoulder, his muscles finally relaxing. Sayib gripped him tightly and pulled the boy up, then carefully lowered him back down, slowing building up a steady rhythm and Quatre was out of his mind over how incredible it felt. He lifted his head, grabbed hold of the back of the chair, and worked his hips over the cock inside him. It took everything he had not to scream as his body was taken to heights of pleasure that far exceeded his expectations. His bottom lip was bitten bloody in his struggle to stay quiet. Sayib whispered delightfully filthy words into his sweaty skin. His hands clutched Quatre's sides, fingers digging into the flesh. He thrust frantically up into the boy's tight heat and growled into his soft neck, heated words of possession that brought Quatre closer to the brink. "You're so beautiful, baby. You feel so good. I should keep you for my own. Would you like that? I'll dress you in the finest silks and drape you in jewels. You'll warm my bed and spread your legs for me whenever I wish it. I'll bugger you every morning and every night. I'll make you scream my name." "Oh, Sa - Sayib...I'm - I'm going to -" "Let it go, baby. Come for me. I want to watch you come undone." All the air in the room seemed to be sucked into a vacuum in a breathless moment of timeless infinity as Quatre's awareness shrunk down into a tiny point. His body convulsed, his cock spurting all over his belly and Sayib's shirt. Sayib held him tightly and groaned long and low, pressing his hips against Quatre's arse as he released his orgasm into the boy's body. It would have been the perfect moment, basking in the mind-blowing abyss of sexual satisfaction. Would have been if not for the door swinging open, the metal knob banging against the adjacent wall. Quatre's world turned on its head as he was suddenly tipped off Sayib's lap. He landed on the hard floor on his back, disoriented, and stared up at his lover in confusion. But Sayib wasn't looking down at him with those warm, honey eyes. He was looking towards the door, his face twisted in an expression of panic. He cursed and hurriedly turned away, tucking his cock back into his breeches. "Quatre!" Icy dread shot through Quatre's body when he heard the murderous rage in his father's voice. His head rolled towards the door, eyes widening in shock as not only his father, but Prince Akhim stood in the threshold wearing twin expressions of outrage. He became aware of his current state too little too late. Stark naked and sprawled with his thighs still wide open. He shakily closed his legs and covered his groin with his hands, looking to Sayib, under the pretense that he would come to their defense. Instead, Sayib walked over to Prince Akhim, not sparing a single glance at Quatre, though he pointed at him with an accusing finger. "He seduced me, Father!" "What?" Quatre sat up, equally outraged and more than a little hurt that his lover could so easily turn on him. "No! No, I didn't. He seduced me!" He scrambled up to his feet, indignant and went for his clothing, desperate to cover himself. There was an audience gathering outside the door and Quatre's body flushed with humiliation and shame. He looked to his father, imploring the man to believe him, but knew instantly that he was going to be blamed for this. Still, it couldn't hurt to try. "Father, please. I didn't - I mean, we both -" "I should have known you would do something like this. You have always been a disappointment. I should have drowned you after you were born. I knew no good would come from the son of a whore!" The tears were already stinging behind his eyes and Quatre desperately tried to stifle them, though his bottom lip still quivered. "Father -" "I am not your Father. You are no son of mine. You are a whore just like your mother. You have brought shame upon our family for the last time, Quatre." Quatre whimpered, his heart breaking. He stepped towards his father, his hand outstretched, pleading. "Father -" "Do not touch me, filth! You disgust me! I never want to see you again. You are not my son and you are not a part of my family. Get out of my sight. If I see you again, I will kill you with my bare hands." Zayeed pushed through the rather sizable crowd that was now outside the door watching the scandal unfold, leaving his only son standing alone to face the wrath of the Sultan's family. Quatre clutched his clothes to his naked body and stared down at the floor, too ashamed to look anyone in the eye. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he squeaked out an apology to Prince Akhim. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean -" "You have committed one of the most sinful acts known to man and you have done so in our Palace. You have brought shame upon us all. You are an abomination. Devil! You have brought the Devil into our kingdom." Prince Akhim's voice was low, but laced with condemnation. Quatre squeezed his eyes shut as he was damned before the rapt audience of the most influential people of the Ottoman Empire, trying his best not to collapse under the onslaught. "You will dress and you will leave and you will take your filthy, sinful ways with you. If you ever return, you will be executed on the spot." Prince Akhim spun on his heel and left the room, Sayib following behind him without a second glance at the boy he'd just betrayed. A moment later the door slammed closed and with it, Quatre's tenuous control crumbled around him. He dropped to his knees, buried his face into his hands, and wept. *** Jerusalem, three months later... The money that Quatre had gotten from selling the jewelry he'd been wearing on that fateful day had run out. When he could no longer pay for the room he'd rented, he was thrown out onto his arse. He slept in alleys, curling his body into chilled corners with his arms wrapped around himself for warmth and the rough cobblestone digging into his skin. When he could no longer afford food, he resorted to begging. He pleas for employment were consistently rejected. After going a week without food, he was accosted by a gentleman who appeared to be in his forties. He was not nobility, but he was also no peasant. He had a proposition: Pleasure him for the night and he would be paid generously for his services. Too weak with hunger to abide by his principles, Quatre accepted and followed the man to the room he'd rented for the occasion. Resigned to his fate, the need for survival overpowering shame, he stripped when he was ordered to and spread himself out on the bed. He pressed his lips together to keep from crying out as he was roughly fingered and didn't put up a fight when the man pinned him down with his heavy body and pushed inside him. He remained limp with lassitude as he was buggered into the mattress. He kept his head turned to the side while the man rocked his body across the bed and growled and slobbered into his neck. He shivered in revulsion, his stomach churning queasily when the man's cock twitched and filled him with the evidence of his ardor. Afterwords, he was allowed to bathe and was given enough coins to feed himself for nearly a week. The second and third and subsequent times he subjected his body to the lust of men was not quite as difficult as the first. He learned to push the shame of his predicament to the back of his mind as he spread his legs for them, losing track of how many he'd given his body to. He obediently dropped to his knees and took them into his mouth and allowed them to reciprocate when they wanted to though it made his skin crawl. He knelt on all fours, bent himself over countless beds, and invited them to bugger him, each time losing more and more of himself to the degradation. He was hopelessly lost, his empty soul wandering the streets in search of the next man who would strip and plunder him for enough money to buy himself a meal. His situation became almost a mundane part of his life, his purpose relegated to a lowly whore. Life continued on that way until several months later when he was grabbed while walking to the marketplace to purchase some fruit. The coins in his pocket jingled, the sound reminding him of what he'd had to do to get them. The remnants of his earlier customer's pleasure damp and sticky on the backs of his thighs. He found himself surrounded by four young men, perhaps only a year or so older than he. He pleaded with them to let him go, reluctantly offering them his money in exchange for his freedom. But it wasn't money they wanted. It was him. He shouted in shock and pain when a fist connected with his cheek, doubling over when another struck his sternum, knocking the wind out of him. Before he could recover from the blows, he was wrestled to the rough ground. He squirmed and shoved at the hands that tore at his clothing, begging them not do this. His arms were pinned above his head as his breeches were yanked down. He kicked at his attackers and hollered in rage when they gripped his legs, holding them up and out of the way. The fourth one crawled between Quatre's open thighs and fished his erection out of his breeches. Quatre turned his head away and squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to look into the face of his rapist. He gritted his teeth and accepted the inevitable, waiting to be violated. Except it never happened. There was a shout, the sound of a scuffle and Quatre cracked his eyes opened to see two men taking on his attackers with astonishing brutality. He stared in frozen shock as an abundant amount of blood was spilled. Teeth were knocked out of mouths and he flinched as he heard the crack of bones being broken. One by one, his attackers succumbed to their injuries, collapsing in bloody heaps around him. The fight, or rather, the slaughter seemed to go on forever, but in reality was probably less than a minute. When it was over, the silence in the alley was deafening. The scuff of a boot reached his ears and he blinked up into the most handsome face he'd ever seen. The man's brown hair cascaded over one eye and Quatre absurdly wondered if it was as silky as it looked. His one visible eye was a deep, soulful green and Quatre stared, mesmerized as the man reached a hand down to him. "Are you alright, boy?" He was soft spoken which was odd for someone so frighteningly violent. He nodded dumbly, speechless, and reached for the hand. The man's fingers gripped him tightly and pulled him to his feet as if he weighed nothing. Quatre marveled at the man's physical strength, his eyes taking in the wide set of shoulders, covered by a cream colored linen shirt. It was open in the front, revealing a muscular chest and abdomen. Quatre realized his jaw was hanging open and snapped it shut, flushing with embarrassment. "Yes. Yes, I'm fine. Thank you for that." He reached into his pocket, not wanting to give up his meal ticket, but knowing he owed them. He held out the coins, cheeks pinked that he didn't have more to offer them. The man's green eye glanced down at his hand and then back up, his gaze sharp with an intensity that made Quatre want to hightail it out of there. "I don't need, or want your money, boy." "Oh. I'm sorry." His face burned as he tucked the coins back into his pocket. He only had one thing left to offer the man. "I'm afraid I don't have much else to give you in gratitude except -" He was abruptly cut off, yelping as his arm was grabbed in a harsh grip. He was reeled into the man's strong chest and he gasped when a powerful arm clamped around his waist and held him tight. He could feel the vibration against his back when the man spoke to his friend and glanced over his shoulder at the other. A little shorter than the man holding him, strikingly handsome, obviously of Asian descent. He stood with his shoulders squared, his hand resting on the hilt of a long, curved sword that hung on his hip. His eyes were dark, cold and unfeeling and Quatre shivered when the inky gaze settled briefly on him. "Find the others. I'm heading back to the Catherine." "What about the pillage?" "Get what you need. I have what I want." Quatre did a double take at that, craning his neck in an attempt to look at the man, the man who still held him in an iron grip. His feet kicked uselessly as he was lifted a few inches off the ground and dragged out of the alley. He squawked indignantly as he was carried down the cobblestone sidewalks in plain view of everyone and tried to pry the arm from around his waist. Unfortunately, it was hard like steel and not going anywhere. "Uh...hello? What do you think you're doing? Where are you taking me?" The two men continued on with their conversation without missing a beat and Quatre sulked, insulted. He dangled limply, waving to a few people who were brazen enough to stare openly at his apparent abduction. Some were simply too afraid to look, keeping a wide swath between themselves and the two men who walked through the city like they owned the place. Others bowed to them in greeting when they passed, though Quatre picked up the trepidation in their voices. "Nice to see you again, Captain Barton, Sir Chang. I hope your visit is going well." Quatre froze as the puzzle pieces clicked inside his mind. Captain Barton. Chang. The Catherine. He realized with a sinking sense of fear and dread that he was being taken by the most feared pirates to sail the Seven Seas. He was being taken back to their ship, the notorious Catherine, which had sunk more ships than an ocean storm and an Imperial European fleet combined. Terrified, he squirmed and shouted, "Let me go!" He kicked Barton's shins and clawed at the arm around him, shrieking for help and begging to be released, knowing neither would happen. Barton's other hand gripped his chin, holding his head firmly. Quatre panted through his pursed mouth as his cheeks were squished by the fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh. "I'd advise you to behave yourself." "Please, let me go." "You are going back to the Catherine with me." "No! I don't want to go! I - I get seasick," he added lamely. Both pirates chuckled and Quatre flushed with embarrassment, his body drooping in resignation. He'd done the unthinkable. He'd caught the eye of the most vicious, deadly pirate alive. There was only one reason for his abduction. He was being relegated from a whore to a catamite. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. He tipped his head towards the sky, cursing his lot in life and wondering what he'd done to deserve this. Perhaps his father had been right all along. Allah, why have you forsaken me?
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