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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 5: Demon of the Sea On the morning of December 12th, 1698, the Catherine arrived at the Western Cape of South Africa. They docked at the thriving city of Cape Town, a bustling epicenter of locals, settlers, and travelers, filled to capacity with commerce and entertainment. After a month and a half at sea, their supplies were running low and Trowa, who had frequented the region several times, was looking forward to showing Quatre around. He roused when there was a knock at the door, uncurling his body from around his catamite and rolling onto his back. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and blinked at the early morning sunlight streaming in through the port holes. "What it is, Wufei." The man's voice, unusually soft as it always was when he spoke to his captain, murmured through the door. "Captain, we're here." "Alright. Thank you." He listened to his friend's foot steps as they walked away and turned back over, draping himself over the blond boy's back. Quatre mumbled in his sleep and twitched, but otherwise didn't wake. Trowa smiled softly and stroked a hand down his arm, relishing in the feel of soft, silky skin. He marveled at how well things had worked out with his catamite. It had been over three years since Trowa snatched him off the streets of Jerusalem after stopping an attack on the young man. Quatre had adapted quite well to his situation, surrendering almost immediately after his capture. There had been a few instances that required Trowa to take the boy in hand when he saw fit to rebel, but they were few and far between. Trowa hadn't been thrilled about doling out punishment, especially when the boy broke down and wept, pleading apologies through trembling lips. He learned and that was what mattered. Quatre was highly rewarded when he behaved himself which was enough incentive to make him do so. Trowa hadn't needed to discipline him in over a year. Quatre's conditioning and training was an exhausting process of balancing the appropriate punishments when he misbehaved. If Trowa overreacted, it would not only be non-conducive to his goals, but could also potentially cause irrevocable harm to his catamite, something Trowa was vehemently against. There was no reason to abuse a catamite. Quatre's punishments were never permanently damaging and he was immediately rewarded when his behavior reflected his remorse. It was also extremely important to consistently and enthusiastically reward the boy when he did what he was supposed to do and even encouraged him to go above and beyond to please his captain. Quatre was given trinkets and privileges when he made Trowa happy and they prompted him to want to continue pleasing him. All in all, the endeavor was a complete success. Quatre was the perfect fit and it had gotten to the point where Trowa couldn't imagine life without the boy's sunny smile, his musical voice and pleasant chatter, his kindness, or his beautiful body. While Quatre was required to stay in good shape, he was not allowed to build muscle beyond the minute amount needed to fill him out and keep him healthy. When Trowa first grabbed him in Jerusalem, the boy had been nothing but skin and bone. Now, with the proper amount of food given at regular intervals, Quatre's body, while remaining slim and petite, was now beautifully voluptuous with enough meat on him to curve out his hips and that adorable little arse of his. Unlike Trowa's firm muscles, hard beneath the stretch of skin browned by the sun, Quatre was soft and pale, just the way Trowa liked him. It reminded him of purity and innocence. Quatre had laughed one night when Trowa told him that after a rather vigorous bout of lovemaking. "I'm far from innocent." "Innocence is not about what you've done, or how many people you've allowed to have you. It's about who you are, deep inside." Trowa gently tapped a finger against the boy's chest. "Despite everything you've been through, you still carry that purity within you. You have not allowed it to jade you, or harden you, like it has me. And I will not allow it to happen to you." Trowa was under no illusions that he was a callous, brutal, and oftentimes cruel man. Abandoned to the streets of Novgorod at the age of seven, he'd learned to survive on his own. He'd had a brief stint with a group of Russian mercenaries when he was twelve. During the two years he was with them, he was subjected to physical and sexual abuse until late one night when he crept into their tents and slashed their throats while they slept. It was the first time he'd taken a human life and it changed him in ways he'd never imagined. It was the moment when he vowed never to be a victim again. When he was fifteen, he'd joined up with a group of gypsies that were traveling across Europe. It was there that he'd met a young woman named Catherine who took him under her wing and nurtured him, educated him, and cared for him. She taught him to read, write, and speak several different languages. She taught him science and mathematics, impressed with how quickly he learned and excelled in his studies. She encouraged him to enroll in a University, convinced he would become an outstanding scholar. And he did. Enrolling at Oxford at the age of eighteen after blowing away every test they put in front of him, completely stumping even the most prestigious professors, and leaving his competition in the dust. He was touted as the brooding genius whose brilliance was unprecedented and Trowa quickly climbed to the top of his class. He majored in engineering, specializing in nautical science. His ship designs became the standard for upstanding craftsmanship and were the well-received staple of sailors across Europe. When he was twenty, he received word of an attack in Berlin where Catherine and her convoy were currently staying. A skirmish between the Germans and the Russians resulted in a bombing attack. Catherine, along with the thirty three gypsies in the convoy, which included young children, were killed. That attack was the catalyst, the final snap of Trowa's tenuous string. He might have even said it was the pivotal moment that he lost his humanity. He'd definitely lost his faith in it. He was consumed by apathy and hate. His thirst for blood, which he thought he'd quelled, came back with a vengeance. He realized that, as he strode through the halls of the University, that he was a wolf in sheep's clothing, playing the part of the scholar surrounded by stuffy upperclassmen that he'd never been able to fit in with. He spent the following year drowning himself in drink and whores until his fateful encounter with Chang Wufei on Christmas Eve, 1694. During a gamble, he swindled the other man out of an enormous amount of gold coins. Furious, the Chinese nobleman and soldier confronted him in the alley behind the pub and drew his sword. The fight was brutal and bloody, but it quickly became apparent that they were an even match. Exhausted and drunk, they declared a stalemate and Trowa returned half of the man's bounty out of respect and principle. With their dubious truce, they decided it would be of equal advantage if they worked together instead of against each other. They became a powerful team, winning more money than they needed to survive with their combined cunning and intelligence. They were often challenged as they walked away from their gambles and their vicious and unmatched fighting skills became legendary. The kind of notoriety that was whispered among the patrons in every pub and tavern across Europe and Asia. Together, with the money they earned, and stole in some cases, they built the large, majestic ship whose reputation would go down infamy. Trowa named her in honor of the one person who'd ever shown him love. In the summer of 1695, the Catherine set sail on her maiden voyage. Their prominence soon became widely known, revered, and feared as they sailed from one continent to the next, pillaging, gambling, fighting, and killing. Within a few months, men were falling all over themselves to be accepted into the crew and Trowa and Wufei put each of them through an intense series of tasks and tests, choosing nothing less than the best and most strongest men. Trowa had taken on two prior catamites, but unfortunately, the boys were not good fits for him and they were handed off to other captains, those known to treat their catamites well. Cutthroat pirate he might have been, but Trowa refused to allow the suffering of innocents. He continued to search for the perfect boy to warm his bed and it seemed luck had been on his side that afternoon in Jerusalem when he'd eyed the blond young man from across the street. His eyes tracked the boy as he walked towards the marketplace, taking in the tattered clothes. It was obvious that the boy was homeless and Trowa was fairly certain that he'd been whoring himself for survival, if his beautiful face and that golden hair was any indication. Boys like that were rare and were typically either forced into sexual slavery, or reduced to selling their bodies because the consumer market for them was plentiful. He watched as a group of young men grabbed the blond and yanked him into an alley and immediately knew the kid was in trouble. He glanced over at Wufei who'd been sharing a drink with him and pointed towards the alley where the boy had disappeared. "I'll be right back." Wufei glanced at him sharply and narrowed his eyes. "What is it now?" Trowa said nothing, only stood and strode away, crossing the street and heading to the alley where he could now hear shouting. He knew Wufei was right behind him without even turning to look. Over the two years they'd been working together, Wufei had become a close friend and confidant, loyal to a fault. Trowa had seen red when he spotted the boy sprawled out on the ground with his breeches clinging to one ankle and three of his attackers holding him down. The fourth was between the boy's legs, his trousers low around his hips and fully intent on buggery. But what had gotten to Trowa the most was how the young victim had stopped fighting and simply turned his head away in resignation. He knew instantly that the boy had been subjected to more than his fair share of cruelty. With strength driven by rage and deeply buried, but painful memories, he struck ruthlessly and violently, grabbing the rapist by the scruff of the neck and swinging his body against the stone wall, crushing the delicate bones in his face and cracking open his skull. He and Wufei went after the other three with equal brutality and Trowa once again savored the savage satisfaction of feeling bones break beneath his hands. Within moments, the ordeal was over and he turned his attention to the young victim, still on the ground and staring up at him with a mixture of fear and awe. Trowa was spellbound by the angelic face that looked at him as though he wasn't sure if he should thank Trowa, or run away. He apparently decided on the former and thanked him as Trowa helped him back onto his feet. Trowa was dismayed by how slight the boy was. He knew he was thin, but it was difficult to tell how thin beneath his baggy clothes. This was a boy who would no doubt wind up as someone's slave one day and the chances of him being mistreated were high. By the haunted look in the boy's eyes, it was pretty apparent that he'd already been mistreated. It was only a matter of time before this fair creature was damaged beyond repair and Trowa almost felt like grieving because what a loss that would be. Without considering if the boy was even an appropriate fit for him, his sudden need to make him his own overriding rational thought, he grabbed the kid's skinny arm and pulled him into his chest, clamping a solid arm around his middle to keep him from squirming away. It turned out to be one of the best decisions he'd ever made. Now, with the warm rays of sunlight lighting up the cabin and casting beams over his catamite's golden hair, making the locks glow like spun threads of gold, he knew he would do it all over again if given the chance. He pinched a yellow curl and tucked it behind the boy's almost elfish ear and watched long lashes flutter against creamy cheeks. This boy, man now as today was his eighteenth birthday, was his pride and joy. Though, he noted with a twinge of dread in his gut, that such a prized possession was also a liability. Quatre was his soft spot, his weakness, his Achilles' heel. And now his enemies knew that. They knew the sure fire way to hurt Trowa himself, was to go after his beloved catamite. But despite his fears, it was a risk that was well worth it. He would happily suffer a thousand lifetimes if it brought him moments like these. He lowered his face into the silky neck, inhaling the remnants of the perfume Quatre had swiped onto his pulse points the night before. It smelled vaguely of oranges and morning glories and reminded Trowa of lounging in a field of wildflowers during the heat of summer while he read the books Catherine bought him with her own hard-earned money. They had been the happiest times of his life up until now. And as always, when in such close proximity of the boy, feeling the smooth, warm skin against his own, his groin perked with interest. His cock nudged against the soft cheeks of Quatre's arse, seeking the tiny opening and the promise of exquisite pleasure that lay within that tight, velvety heat. He reached down and grasped his now throbbing erection, rubbing the tip over the boy's entrance which was still lax and moist from the sex they'd had only hours ago. Quatre twitched in his sleep, a soft whimper reverberating through his back and against Trowa's chest as Trowa pressed his cock home. It slid smoothly inside the boy and he dropped his head to a slender arm, closing his teeth over a mouthful of sweet skin and biting down as his manhood was sucked into glorious rapture. Quatre was still not quite awake yet and only murmured softly when a firm hand gripped his thigh and lifted his leg into the air. Trowa pushed in until his balls rested against the boy's arse, then pulled out just as smoothly. He rolled his hips, his teeth clenching at the sinfully tight heat that enveloped and rippled over his cock and he crooked his arm around Quatre's thigh to hold it up and out of the way. Quatre was only half awake, but his breathing came a little faster now and when Trowa reached around him to cup his groin, he could feel the burgeoning erection hardening beneath his hand. He glanced down between them, growling as he watched the erotic slide of his cock disappear inside the boy's arse. Quatre was mewling now, waking incrementally with each thrust. He jolted awake, yelping when Trowa delivered a particularly hard thrust and tipped his head back with a filthy moan as the pace picked up and bounced his body over the rumpled bedding. It was just one of the many things Trowa cherished about the boy. Quatre loved getting buggered. He loved it like he was made for it, his legs falling open at the slightest gesture that Trowa was ready to take him. Every inch of him screamed delicious submission and Trowa couldn't get enough of it, enough of him, and it was wonderful knowing Quatre felt the same. Trowa used the arm that wasn't holding the boy's leg up, sliding it beneath the tousled blond head. He turned Quatre's face towards him, his eyes drinking in the beauty of his delicate features and leaned down to give him a deep, dirty kiss. Quatre panted and moaned into his mouth, then let out a high pitched squeal as a perfectly angled thrust had him coming all over himself. Trowa hissed through his teeth, the searing contractions of the boy's arse squeezing him almost painfully and he drove in harder, fucking with wild abandon. He savored the sound of his hips slapping against Quatre's arse and his soft, shaky breaths. He dug himself in deep, rotating his pelvis and came with a roar, filling the boy with his pleasure. Huffing with exertion, he dipped his head and suckled on his catamite's neck, feeling the rapid pulse beneath the creamy skin. They lay that way for several long moments until Quatre began to squirm restlessly in his arms. Trowa hissed as his cock slipped out and stroked a hand up the boy's side, loving the satiny feel of him. Quatre glanced at him over his shoulder, a smirk curling up one side of his mouth. "Good morning." Trowa kissed that smug smile away and slapped a pert arse cheek in admonishment. "Don't get cocky, boy." Quatre laughed and looked down at himself. "I need a rag. I'm getting sticky." Trowa reached over and grabbed the cloth on the bedside table. He wiped it over the boy's opening, cleaning his own come away and smirking when Quatre shivered at the stimulation. He handed him the rag and propped his head on his hand as he watched him clean off his belly and groin. Trowa pressed a kiss against a bony shoulder. "We're here." "Are we?" "Wufei informed me a short while ago. We'll have a busy day ahead of us." "You said you were meeting with Captain Zechs of the Tallgeese?" "Yes, but I also want to show you around Cape Town. I think you'll like it." Quatre sat up and smiled down at him. "Or do you want to show Cape Town me?" He tossed the rag over the side of the bed and settled back down on his other side, facing Trowa. "I know you enjoy showing me off like I'm some accessory." Trowa curled a possessive hand over the boy's hip, the tips of his fingers digging into the soft flesh of Quatre's arse. "Both. And you aren't just any accessory. The most beautiful, highly sought after accessory of the high seas." "Flatterer." Quatre trailed a finger down the length of Trowa's chest and abdomen, sliding over thick, rippled muscles. He seemed deep in thought, almost troubled, and Trowa's brows drew down in concern. "Is something wrong, love?" Quatre seemed to shake himself out of his reverie and turned bright, aqua eyes on him. He smiled and shook his head. "No. Not really. I was just...contemplating the course my life has taken." "What's there to contemplate?" The boy sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "I don't know. Once upon a time, I was Persian nobility. I was destined to be a Vali for the Eastern Saudi Province." He laughed, though it sounded bitter as he glanced over at Trowa. "I even had a fiance." Trowa's eyes widened. "You did?" He'd known about the Vali, he knew that Quatre had been thrown into the streets by a scandal involving the Sultan's grandson, but he hadn't known about the betrothal. "Yes. A young girl, Belzia was her name. She was betrothed to me when we were ten." He shook his head and looked away. "I thought that was the worst thing that could have happened to me. I couldn't imagine her as my wife, much less bedding her. I knew there was something wrong with me when I didn't respond to her the way my cousins did." "You don't fancy females." Quatre's face seemed almost pained as he said, "No. Not even with the women, the other whores I've been in contact with...they do nothing for me." Trowa shrugged a shoulder. "Well, that's okay." "Is it?" Quatre turned his face back, his eyes decidedly misty. "Cause it seems like it's the worst crime imaginable to most people." He barked out a laugh, sounding almost self-deprecating. "The funny thing is...at least half the men I sold my body to were married. To women." "That honestly doesn't surprise me." "It doesn't?" Quatre curled his arm behind his head, his steady gaze back on the ceiling. "It's...strange. Most of the ones who I knew were married, there was an element of self-hatred that I could sense from them. Like they knew what they wanted was wrong, but they were helpless to stop wanting it." "Such is the way of humanity, Quatre. Human desires are oftentimes very dark, but I don't think many of those desires are as bad as most people do." "Of course you don't! You're a pirate," Quatre scoffed, then seemed to realize what he'd said. He glanced over, apology written all over his face. "I'm sorry." Trowa was not bothered by the outburst. "It's the truth. Pirate morality is...well, it's the same as anyone else. We simply don't pretend we're purer than we are. I'm under no illusions that I lead a sinful life. I just don't bother to hide it." Quatre nodded. "That's the difference, I think. You don't hide who and what you are. Some of those men, while they had wives, even while they hated that they desired me...they were some of my most passionate customers..." He trailed off as heat rose to his cheeks. Trowa immediately understood. "You enjoyed it." Quatre blinked, his face flushing with shame and he turned his head towards the opposite wall. "Sometimes. Sometimes they were really good at it and they...they made me feel pleasure. Sometimes they even - they -" "They made you come." Quatre squeezed his eyes closed and covered his face with his hands. Trowa rolled him over and pulled him into the protection of his chest. He held the boy close, stroking his hands over his smooth back, and whispered reassurances into the blond curls. "Hey. There's nothing to be ashamed of. There's nothing wrong with feeling pleasure and enjoying sex. It's obvious that some of your customers wanted you to feel good, too. There's no shame in feeling good, Quatre. It's not a sin." "It is, though," the boy whimpered into his chest, his tears soaking Trowa's skin. "I can only imagine what my father would think about all this. He - thought I was a whore when the prince took my virginity. If he knew the things I did, what I am now. I - I just can't help thinking...if I hadn't allowed the prince to seduce me, I'd still be at home." "Yes. And you'd be miserable." Quatre sniffled and nodded. "Yes, but I wouldn't be all the filthy things I am now." "Quatre. Quatre, look at me." Trowa's voice was stern. It wasn't optional, it was a command. He waited for the boy's head to lift and gazed down into teary blue eyes. "Do you feel filthy when you're with me?" "No...but -" "But nothing. You're not filthy. You're human. As far as you being a whore, you did what you had to to survive. Anyone who faults you for that is a fool." More tears rolled down the soft cheeks and Trowa wiped them away with his thumb. "I wish I could be strong like you." "No," Trowa said, shutting that down instantly. "You do not want to be like me. Part of the reason I took you was because if you had continued on with the life you were living, you would have ended up like me and that is not acceptable." "Why not?" "Because when I first looked at you, I saw something precious. I saw a gentle and kind and generous human being and there are not enough of those in the world. There are far too many men like me and not enough men like you." He smiled and caressed the boy's cheek. "The world needs more men like you and I knew I had to do something. I knew I had to save you, preserve you just the way you are. To turn you into a hard, cruel man would be a deplorable crime." Quatre wiped his eyes and blinked up at him. "What happened to you?" Trowa shifted, a little uneasy. There was only one person he'd disclosed his past to and that was Wufei. But Quatre...Quatre was so special and for some reason, Trowa felt he deserved to know. "I was...abandoned by my family when I was seven. I don't remember much, but I vaguely recall my father saying he had more mouths than he could afford to feed. For several years, I fended for myself." He shook his head, an admonishing laugh on his lips. "I was more like a wild animal for a time. I barely spoke, didn't interact with people. I was...feral, you could almost say." "I was taken in by a group of mercenaries when I was twelve. I believe I was twelve. I'm not really sure. I was with them for two years." He swallowed hard and looked up at the wall behind Quatre's back, unable to gaze into those innocent wide eyes while he explained the vile things that happened to him. "They hurt me. Beat me, molested me. Raped me." He could hear Quatre's shaky gasp and he squeezed the boy tighter. "Oh, Trowa! I'm so sorry!" Trowa nodded absently. "I killed them all. Slit their throats while they slept." Quatre wrapped slender arms around him and he was grateful for the comfort. "I was on my own again for another several years until I met Catherine." Quatre's voice was hushed when he asked, "Was she your wife?" Trowa chuckled and shook his head. "No. More like a big sister. She took me under her wing. She taught me to read and write, she taught me science and arithmetic. She taught me German, Italian, French, English, and Spanish. She spent what little money she earned peddling her healing potions to buy me books so that I could be educated. It turned out, I was actually a lot smarter than I'd thought I was. She was certainly impressed. She encouraged me to go to school, convinced I had a promising future." "And did you?" "I did. Enrolled at Oxford in the fall of 1691. Took the tests and blew them all out of the water. But...I never fit in. I didn't have a prestigious family, or a lot of money. I was resented because I was a nobody and yet I still managed to surpass my peers in every subject." Trowa snorted, the irony not lost on him. "I majored in nautical science." "Ah," Quatre chuckled. "It all makes sense now. So what happened?" "Two years later, I received word of an attack in Berlin. The ongoing conflict between the Russians and the Germans came to a head and Catherine and her convoy were killed in a bomb blast." "Oh, no. Trowa, I'm - I'm so so sorry!" Trowa shrugged, pushing the pain back down into the black mass inside his chest. "After that I - I realized that I didn't belong with these scholarly types. I suppose you could say I hit rock bottom. I spent a year drifting through Europe, drinking myself wretched, buggering whores, and gambling. Until I met Wufei." Quatre smiled, his eyes dry now which put Trowa at ease. "And the rest is history." Trowa laughed, throwing his head back as his shoulders shook with mirth. "Yes, you could say that. We beat each other bloody after I scammed him out of his money. When we grew tired and there was still no winner, we called a truce and I gave him half his money back. Meeting Wufei was one of those significant events in your life that you never forget." "Kind of like when I met you." Trowa gazed down at him and touched the boy's beautiful face. "I'd say that was the best event." Quatre beamed at the compliment and Trowa's heart soared with feelings he was still trying to come to terms with. It was a mystery how this boy, this catamite had wormed his way into Trowa's heart, touching upon things he had believed were long dead and bringing the cold, black, and unfeeling parts of himself back to life. It also put not only himself, but Quatre and his crew at risk. The reason he'd been so successful as a pirate was because he'd learned to bury the parts of him that he'd deemed as weak. He'd smothered his empathy, compassion, and ability to love which resulted in a near complete lack of conscience. It was what made him so savage, so dangerous. And, at the time, he'd had nothing to lose. Now, he had everything to lose. His beloved ship, his crew, his friend, and his precious catamite. His enemies knew now, that he was human and not the demon of the sea as he'd often been dubbed. And humans had weaknesses. They could be hurt. They were vulnerable. He had a choice to make. Give all this up, give up his catamite to ensure his reputation, remain an icy, ruthless man and wallow in his own dark pit of Hell. Or expose himself to danger, expose those he cared about to danger, but at the same time, actually have something to live for. Not easy choices. But the thought of losing Quatre was more than he could bear and he knew he'd already made his decision. He would just have to be extra careful and vigilant, especially in the company of other pirates. To show affection towards the boy would indicate that he actually cared about him which was a catastrophe waiting to happen. Quatre would just have to learn to accept that the manner in which he was treated in public was in no way how Trowa genuinely felt about him. Rather, it was for his protection. Quatre felt like an accessory at times, a piece of meat because that's how he was treated when he was taken off the ship, but it was a necessary evil and one that Trowa would unapologetically continue to do. It was the only way to keep his catamite safe. He reached around the boy and delivered a sharp slap to his rump. "Get dressed. I believe a celebration is in order." Quatre glanced curiously up at him. "For what?" "It's your birthday, isn't it?" The boy groaned, exasperated. "You're not going to spoil me rotten again like you did last year, are you?" Trowa kissed the pouting mouth and grinned. "Absolutely. Get yourself all nice and pretty for me. I'm taking you out on the town."
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