Into the Light

by Master Elayna (Elayna88@aol.com)

Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Archive: M&A, Rauhnee's archive list, my temporary page at http://www.eyeballcity.com/GateKat/Hosted/Elaynas_Den/index.html, hopefully soon to return to my permanent location, http://www.shadowynd.com/~elaynas_den/index.html, anyone else who wants, just ask.
Category: Drama, romance, first-time, extreme AU.
Series: Planned to be the first of three. (A plan! I'm actually writing with a plan! It's a novel concept for me.) Series name not yet determined. Any suggestions?
Feedback: Please!
Dedicated: To Boots, for whispering "pirate Qui-Gon," setting this bunny free, and highly welcome cheerleading.
Thanks: To Van, for her poetic inspiration and Karita for doing a superb beta. I fuss until posting so all mistakes are mine.
Summary: A dishonorable pirate, an honorable member of the Royal Navy, a confrontation on the ocean...
Warnings: I've read too many romances in my life. Historical ambiance, not accuracy.
Disclaimer: The boys belong to his lordship George Lucas, I'm merely dressing them in thigh high boots and billowy shirts.

Willing lips, supple skin, exploring hands, soft, full breasts pressed against his chest, the cloying smell of overly sweet perfume... Ben caught the barmaid's hands with his own, gently pushing her back and away from him. "Thank you, Madam, but the drinks are sufficient," he said politely.

The rowdy catcalls of his crewmates faded to a halt as they shook their heads in dismay. Bolder than the rest, Charles reached out, pulling the barmaid off Ben's lap and onto his own. "I'm available, sweetheart," was his hopeful statement.

She tossed a mock pout at Ben before turning her attention to Charles, running one hand down his smooth cheek. "And maybe at the end of the night, you'll look as cute as he does," she said flippantly before flouncing away.

David and Lucas hooted with laughter. Charles scowled with embarrassment, then diverted their amusement by hissing at Ben, "Are you insane? We've been at sea for three weeks and you just want to drink ale?"

Ben squirmed as three pairs of suspicious eyes stared at him. They were good friends and loyal comrades, the three other Lieutenants on the HMS Indomitable. The four had met during training and were delighted when assigned to the same ship, finding their sea legs together while satisfying their shared craving for adventure. Even though these men were closer to him than his own brothers, he couldn't explain to them why the woman seemed so unappealing. Undoubtedly they would lock him into a lunatic asylum if he gave an honest answer, deeming it the wisest course of action for his own safety. "I'm thirsty," he said weakly, quickly picking up his glass from the table and taking a gulp.

David's chiding, "You are becoming obsessed, Ben, obsessed. It's unhealthy," hit closer to home than his friend could conceive. Ben hid his wince as he promised to relax. Despite their bemusement, the others allowed the subject to gracefully drop but the evening was ruined for Ben. At the earliest opportunity, he slipped away with a muttered excuse.

The warm, balmy air caressed Ben as he stepped outside the bar. The temperature still surprised him, so different from cold England. While he enjoyed these tropical islands, finding the natives friendly and the way of life intriguingly exotic, he missed home. Picturing his parents and siblings sitting around a fire, Ben strolled down the dirt road toward the docks.

Though he tried to force his concentration to remain on his family, his thoughts turned unerringly to the object of obsession. The HMS Indomitable had been chasing pirates for the last six months, a mostly fruitless endeavor. Oh, there were some successes, a few of the ships captained by less skilled men captured, their stolen booty recovered and the pirates remanded to the local authorities or sent back to England to be tried for their crimes.

The worst - or best, depending on the viewpoint - of the brigands continued to elude capture. They were familiar with the ocean and the small islands, able to sail on the swiftest currents, slide through safe passages in dangerous reefs, and wait out their pursuers in hidden locales.

Ben knew that when David chided him, his friend assumed that Ben was unable to relax because he was obsessed with their mission, Ben's dedication to duty being both well known and admired. David never realized Ben's attention was fixated solely on one particular ship. And its Captain. Quinn's image was a constant torment in Ben's mind - the tall, broad-shouldered pirate, his hair brushing past his shoulders, beard and mustache obscuring the lower half of his face, white breeches hugging well-muscled legs, black boots ending at the middle of his thighs, a red jacket buttoned at his waist but open at the top exposing a flimsy cotton shirt and a firm expanse of chest. The brigand had sailed away from them three times now, his sleek ship outdistancing even the finest ship of the Royal Navy, mocking them by not even bothering to fight. Captain Quinn always stood at the railing in the stern of his ship, spyglass raised to observe the Indomitable as she disappeared from his sight.

The pirate haunted Ben's days. He constantly scanned the ocean, hoping for a glimpse of white sails that might warn of an imminent meeting. Every scrap of information on the pirate's activities was devoured and analyzed, seeking a clue where he might be found next. The second and third times the ship sailed away from them, Ben imagined that Quinn was watching him with the same fascination, as if the pirate captain might notice one lowly Lieutenant among the masses of sailors.

The nights were the worst. Those large feet walked into his dreams and the pirate stood over Ben, hands on his hips, staring down as the Lieutenant slept. Ben lost count of the number of nights he'd woken, feeling feverish and warm, reaching up to wrap his arms around that tall figure, almost whimpering as the phantasm faded away. He was mad, surely mad. Instead of hiding his illness, perhaps he should confess his bizarre obsession to his friends so they might imprison him, hiding his sickness from civilized society.

In the quiet of the night, the soles of his boots made a loud echoing noise as he stepped onto the wooden planks of the wharf. A boy was huddled, sitting on a piling, arms tucked around himself as if chilled. Ben paused. "Do you need anything, lad?"

The boy looked up at Ben, his streaky blond hair falling away from his face. "'Ello, sir. No, sir, I'm fine."

Ben frowned. There was something unsettlingly familiar about the boy's face, but he couldn't quite place where he had seen him. "Isn't it a little late to be out all alone?"

"But he's not alone. He's with me." The response was spoken in the Queen's English, but with a lilting hint of an Irish brogue. It came from directly behind Ben, who whirled to discover the man of his dreams. Or his nightmares. A large fist lashed out, hitting Ben squarely on his jaw just as he connected the boy with the slight figure who always stood at Quinn's side. Stunned, he collapsed, barely hearing the boy's excited, "Ooie! One blow!" He felt his body yanked around, his hands being tied behind his back by rough rope and tried to struggle, but another hard punch on the side of his face caused him to lose consciousness.

********

Ben jerked awake in a rush and immediately regretted it as the pain in his bruised jaw made itself known. From the gentle rolling of the floor beneath him, he was on board a ship. He glanced around the room at the carved mahogany dresser, large bed with mahogany bedposts, and the table with maps and a journal on it. The rich elegance of the furniture signified a man of discriminating taste; its sparseness spoke of a man secure enough not to surround himself with an obvious display of wealth. Or practical enough not to waste his wealth on ephemeral trappings that might be easily lost at sea. Perhaps both. Indisputably a Captain's room.

His hands were bound to the chair behind his back, his legs tied to its front legs, and his neck stiff from slumping forward. His jacket was gone, leaving him clad in a loose white shirt, dark blue trousers and shoes. He rolled his shoulders and flexed his spine as much as his bonds allowed, loosening his muscles. Vigorously tugging at the ropes to free himself only chafed his wrists. Whoever had tied him was an expert at knots. His dry mouth demanded water.

Well, they would realize he was awake sooner or later, he decided wryly, before calling out, "Hello! Water! I need water!"

The boy's head poked in within seconds, gazing at him warily.

"Water, boy. Bring me some water."

"I'll see what the Captain says," the boy replied unhelpfully before vanishing.

Abandoned, Ben rocked back and forth, wondering if he could roll over and smash the chair. Unfortunately, the chair matched the other pieces of furniture in the room, made of dense mahogany rather than a flimsy, breakable material. Not that it would matter much if he did free himself, he thought in frustration. Trapped at sea would leave little possibility for escape. At least, he would not feel so vulnerable if he could stand and move. The boy popped back in before he decided to risk it, bearing a tray. "Cap'n said you could have some lunch."

The meal was simple but nourishing, biscuits, beans, and a measure of rum. The boy untied only one arm, sitting on the bed to watch him, examining him with a measure of curiosity and distrust. Eating was awkward with one hand and the tray balanced on his lap, but Ben was hungry and cleaned his plate.

As he drank the last of the rum, the door swung open and Quinn stood framed in the entrance. "Lieutenant," he said casually, as if greeting a welcome visitor. At his appearance, the boy grabbed the dirty plate and skipped out of the room with a quick nod of respect to his commander.

"Captain," Ben snapped out. "Or shall I say kidnapper? Pirate?"

Quinn arched his eyebrows, apparently amused by Ben's anger. "I have been called by many names, Lieutenant. Use which one you wish. And you are?"

"Larkin," Ben said tersely. "Lieutenant Benjamin Larkin. Not at your service."

"I imagine you are wondering why you are on my ship." The Captain sprawled in a chair, facing Ben; one long leg stretched in front, almost touching one of Ben's bound feet.

Ben didn't answer, compressing his lips.

"I wanted to talk to you."

"Then let's return to port and have a pleasant drink in the bar. I'll buy."

The pirate smiled again, his good humor seeming to increase diametrically in response to Ben's waspish temper. "I have been a pirate for many years, Ben. Do you know one of the reasons I have been so successful at avoiding capture?" His question failed to generate a reaction, as Ben stayed obstinately silent. "I'll tell you why, Ben. Because the British, while good, courageous people, are without a doubt, the most unimaginative, stolid lot ever to sail the seas."

"How curious. From your accent, I would have thought you were British yourself. I have never considered pirates stolid or unimaginative. Vicious and blood thirsty, perhaps."

Quinn's faint smile ignored Ben's attack as he continued, "Lately though...lately, life has changed. Someone is trying to outthink me. Someone is accurately guessing which ships are the best prey and ensuring that they are well escorted. My purchasers are being bribed and my men's women are being harassed to disclose my whereabouts. Local fishermen are being consulted about good hiding places among the reefs. I've been lucky. The Raven and the Defiance were both captured."

It was Ben's turn to merely arch his eyebrows. "Rather the risk of the profession, isn't it?"

"I find it interesting," the pirate said deliberately, "that this sudden spurt of intelligence on the part of the British coincided with your introduction on the HMS Indomitable."

Ben shrugged. The pirate leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "I believe these new strategies arise from you, Ben."

"Four of us joined the Indy at the same time, Captain."

"Four of you, yes, but from all reports, you are the dedicated one. The 'one who thinks too much' said one person." Quinn laughed at Ben's start of surprise. "Yes, I've taken the liberty of researching my enemy, just as you have researched yours. All four of you are described as good, decent officers. But you are the committed one, the one who's always working."

"I love my country, Quinn. I serve her to the best of my abilities."

Quinn was too skilled at hiding his emotions to flinch at the direct hit. Long ago, he had loved his country and would have sympathized with Ben's declaration. Before his country turned its back on him, forcing him to turn outlaw. "Loyal as well as bright."

"What are you going to do with me? You won't kill me."

"You sound confident about that," Quinn said dryly.

Ben saw little reason to hide his knowledge of Quinn's reputation. Now that the pirate had gone to the trouble of kidnapping him, he wasn't likely to simply release him, no matter what suppositions Ben confirmed. "You never indiscriminately take lives once you have captured a ship."

Quinn inclined his head in agreement. "True. I dislike waste." The pirate didn't add more, letting the bland impersonality of his statement sound callous. This young man didn't need to know that indiscriminate bloodshed sickened him. It had taken many years to accept the practicalities of his enforced profession. "If I wanted you dead, I would have killed you on the docks."

Ben bit his lip but didn't deny his vulnerability at that moment. How ironic that his guard had been down, his mind drifting in fantasies of this man.

"I don't want to kill you, Ben," Quinn continued. "I haven't decided what to do with you. Abandon you someplace distant and remote, perhaps. I would like," Quinn paused, pondering the wisdom of his next words, "I would like if you would join my crew. You would be an asset."

The answer came swiftly and firmly. "Never."

It was Quinn's turn to shrug. The fast response did not surprise him. An affirmative answer would have been an unbelievable and obvious ploy for freedom. Men of mettle and determination did not collapse at the first unpleasant hurdle. "Very well. You shall be our guest until I decide what to do. Ani!"

The boy popped back in, obviously paying close attention of his Master's actions and needs. "Yes, Cap'n?"

"Get some of the men. Have them move our guest into the hold."

"Yes, Cap'n."

The boy darted out, Quinn following him after one last considering look. Ben was left alone, legs and one arm still bound, a prisoner in a hellish nightmare.

**********

Quinn immersed himself in his nightly routine, noting the day's events in his log, studying ocean charts to plan their route, contemplating known trade routes and which would yield the easiest, richest pickings. He found his thoughts continually sneaking away from his conscious control, bringing an image of Ben to his mind, picturing him as Quinn had first seen him, standing on the deck of the HMS Indomitable. The Lieutenant was not particularly physically imposing - slim, his shoulders narrow, and shorter than many of the other sailors on the ship, but his body seemed to vibrate with a fiercely restrained energy and passion. His long hair was tied neatly back, sunlight picking up red strands among the blond. The color of his eyes changed constantly, shifting between the clear blues and greens found in the more exotic parts of the ocean.

What was he going to do with him? Any of his acquaintances would have stabbed a sword through his guts and kicked his lifeless body off the wharf. Instead...instead, Quinn found himself desperately wanting to pull the younger man into an embrace, to tip his head back and nuzzle that adorable cleft in his chin.

Sailing into the same port as the Indomitable was purely accidental. His men were still occupied with the routine chores of anchoring at port when they were surprised to see Quinn carrying an unconscious Lieutenant onto the ship, his limp form draped over Quinn's shoulder. They accepted the logic of avoiding a fight and seizing an opportunity to interrogate an enemy, sailing away before the British were alerted to their presence.

Quinn now regretted his hasty act, snatching at the chance to be close to the handsome young man. Over the years, through iron control and domination, he succeeded in curtailing his men's most bloodthirsty impulses. But the unpalatable fact remained that they were still pirates, outlaws of the sea, who held little affection for members of the British Navy. His men would expect to see conclusive action soon - mostly likely a brutal questioning followed by slitting Ben's throat and tossing his corpse into the sea. The men would conceivably mutiny if they caught wind of his true desires.

A fast decision on Ben's fate was imperative before he was forced into violence to protect Ben or his captaincy.

He cursed himself for the meandering course of his thoughts, as he realized his foolhardiness in having Ben chained in the hold. It seemed as if he had lost his ability to think clearly since that very first day he had espied Ben, his mind too bedazzled by physical beauty to be logical. He'd ordered Ben chained in a place where he would be vulnerable to his men's idea of entertainment.

Striding out of his room, he kept his steps unhurried, pretending he was completing a last minute review of his ship before going to sleep, not admitting he was desperately rushing to Ben's defense.

His fears were justified immediately. A loose circle of his men surrounded Ben, drinking rum and cheering. Ben's hands were tied over his head, the rope stretched taut as he dangled from a beam. Jeffries held a rat in his hands, waving it at Ben's face. The Lieutenant kicked out but ended up swinging backwards by the force of his own momentum. Men waited to push him forward again. From the small bites on Ben's face and exposed chest, the sadistic game had been played for some time.

Quinn pushed through the throng. His presence alone quieted the cheers and yells, the noise slowly dying as his men caught sight of him. Squaring his shoulders and using every inch of his commanding height, Quinn cast a withering look at the subdued crowd. "Did I give permission for this?"

A few quiet "No's and "No, Cap'n" answered him, but most stayed silent.

He met each man's eyes firmly. "I will not tolerate sadism."

Jeffries shuffled his feet as he muttered, "But Cap'n, we was just having fun..."

The backhand was almost casual but the force behind the blow was severe. Jeffries was knocked to the floor, the rat flying from his hands with a squeal. "I will have discipline on this ship." Brutal domination was not a route he would have chosen, but its value was undisputed. The pirates respected him, needing to follow strength and disdaining weakness. Keeping control on his crew enabled him to avoid much of the senseless bloodshed and destruction pirates normally caused.

"Cut him down."

The order was obeyed promptly. Ben fell forward into Quinn's arms, immediately jerking away to stand on his own feet, flexing his sore arms.

Quinn snapped, "Return to your duties." He grabbed Ben by the scruff of his shirt. "Come along."

The Lieutenant glared but allowed himself to be dragged out of the hold without struggle. The brusqueness of Quinn's actions continued until the two reached the cabin. His crew had to believe that Quinn was as impatient with the Lieutenant as he was with his own men. Once the door shut, his clasp softened and he was almost gentle as he sat Ben into the chair, kneeling before him to untie the knotted rope still dangling from his wrists. His hands lingered over Ben's wrists his touch stroking the skin rubbed raw.

Picking up the pitcher of water, Quinn wet a towel, using it first to dab at his wrists, then at the small wounds on Ben's face. Finished with his chore, he dropped the washcloth back into the bowl. His touch was surprisingly tender as he cupped Ben's chin and raised his head. Sincerely, he said, "I am sorry. I did not intend for that to happen to you."

Their eyes locked as they stared raptly at each other, the blue of Quinn's meeting the blue-green of Ben's. As fast as a match ignites into flame, the air of tension exploded between the two, the light of their hunger reflected in their brilliant eyes. Quinn let out a hiss, feeling his body react to Ben's nearness, his penis hardening. Ben drew a shaky breath; his eyes flicking down to Quinn's crotch, licking his lips as he watched the bulge in Quinn's breeches grow even more pronounced. Quinn followed Ben's gaze, then looked back at the Lieutenant's face, seeing only hunger and want. Standing to place a large booted foot on the chair next to Ben's thigh, Quinn brought his loins closer to the younger man. Ben scooted his hips slightly to allow room for the foot. Quinn stroked Ben's face from brow to chin, the gentleness of his fingers at odds with the smoldering passion in his eyes, the massiveness of his thigh and the size of his erection.

Quinn slipped his hand to the back of Ben's head, encouraging him to lean closer. Ben surrendered without a whimper of protest, letting his mouth open as he nuzzled at the bulge in Quinn's breeches, rubbing with his lips and nose. "Do it. Please," Quinn half-commanded, half-begged.

Ben undid Quinn's belt, the heavy metal buckle clunking against the pirate's thigh. Teasingly, he drifted his fingers down the two rows of gold buttons which angled from groin to waist. One by one, he unbuttoned each of the gold buttons on the right side, fingering the anchor embossed on the front. Quinn's erection sprang free from his trousers as the flap dropped back. Licking his lips, Ben looked askance at Quinn, who merely replied, "Yes," before adding a whispered, "You know this was meant to be. From the first moment we saw each other."

Whispering, "Yes," Ben closed his eyes, accepting the very tip into his mouth. He rolled his tongue over the head, tasting a drop of bittersweet fluid. His world narrowed, his conscious awareness concentrated solely on his mouth and Quinn's large organ. He'd never imagined the reality of tasting such solid heaviness with lips and teeth and tongue and wanted to savor every moment. The bulbous head slid in, then another inch. Ben sucked hard, a pleased shiver of satisfaction snaking down his spine at Quinn's hoarse groan.

Quinn began a lazy thrusting, his erection sliding in and out of Ben's mouth as the younger man continued his strong sucking and his tongue circled around the tip. Ben placed his hands on the white fabric clinging to Quinn's muscled thighs, letting them move with the rocking motion of Quinn's legs.

Burying his hands into Ben's braid, Quinn yanked at the tie and tugged at the careful arrangement until the reddish mass was freed, falling loose to Ben's shoulders. Leaning forward, he asked, "Can you take more?"

His mouth occupied, Ben nodded, looking up at Quinn to show him the positive answer in his eyes.

"Don't let me choke you." With those words, Quinn accelerated the speed and force of his hips, burying his cock deep in the moist haven until he touched the back of Ben's throat.

Ben imagined himself on a rocky shore, the waves crashing against him, swamping him with their power, swirling back briefly before relentlessly returning. Almost unconsciously, one hand began fondling his own straining erection, the other caressing the base of Quinn's cock and his balls. Quinn's hands moved restlessly through Ben's hair and over the cotton of his shirt, quick pants emerging from his throat.

The waves pounded Ben mercilessly, cresting higher and higher before finally covering him completely in a tidal wave of sensation. His cock twitched in his hand as wetness dampened the front of his trousers. A geyser of fluid erupted from Quinn's cock, flooding Ben's mouth with the bittersweet taste. Ben drank rapidly, his body satiated and relaxed from an orgasm more fulfilling than any he had ever known. Speechless, he slumped back in the chair.

Quinn pulled him up and into his arms. For a moment, he was content to hold the slender body close, petting his back and nuzzling at his cheek and throat, but his soul soon demanded more. He nipped at Ben's earlobe before asking in a husky whisper, "Have you ever been loved in the Greek fashion?" His large hands curved over the cheeks of Ben's buttocks, adding physical emphasis to his question.

Ben shuddered but replied with a soft, "No."

"Good," Quinn said with possessive satisfaction.

"But you're not - " Ben tentatively touched Quinn's hip, indicating the flaccid state of his cock.

"Ready?" Quinn finished. "Don't worry. By the time I've prepared you, I will be."

**********

Ben woke without conscious memory or awareness of his surroundings but with an incredible sense of physical and mental well being. He shifted in the bed, reveling in the sensation of silk sheets against his naked body. The bed was firm, the weight of his body depressing the mattress only slightly as he twisted onto his back. He couldn't remember ever feeling this wonderful. Better than Christmas. Better than the last day of a school term. Better than receiving his commission to be an officer.

He flung his arms over his head, stretching, feeling the pull in his muscles from the tips of his fingers to his toes. The bed was much larger than his bunk on ship, the spaciousness a delightful luxury. Unfamiliar aches in certain portions of his anatomy brought images of last night cascading into his mind as he stretched and he remembered what had happened.

Oh yes. He'd been fucked by a pirate.

And what was his response? He'd sucked and squirmed and held on and kissed and moaned and practically pleaded for more. Practically pleaded? Nay, desperately pleaded for more.

The vision of the local vicar from his childhood flashed in his mind, bits and pieces of sermons intoned in the cleric's nasally voice, proclaiming the rightness of one man and one woman. The sanctity of marriage, its divine purpose for procreation. The essentialness of abstinence and the evilness of sin.

Everything he had been raised to believe demanded he should feel debased and degraded, guilty for not only what he allowed to happen, but particularly for what he encouraged and willingly enjoyed. He didn't feel ashamed. He couldn't. Being with Quinn had felt too perfect, as if two souls which had been destined for each other had finally united in a physical expression of their spiritual harmony.

So, what was he going to do? He tucked one arm beneath his head, rested the other on his chest, and contemplated the ceiling. Duty and obligation were not merely words to him; they were an intrinsic element of his character. The idea of turning against his country, joining an outlaw band of thieves and cutthroats was abhorrent to him.

Did Quinn even share his feelings? As far as Ben knew, Quinn might toss him off the ship, happy to let him drown and feed the fish. Wham bam, thank you Ben. But surely...surely Quinn must feel the same. Such depth of emotion could not be unreciprocated. It couldn't. If Ben couldn't stay, could Quinn leave? According to rumor, the man had been a pirate for at least a decade. Had he spent his booty indiscriminately or amassed enough wealth to retire? Would he be willing to return discreetly to England? Could he return to England without being identified? Perhaps settle on some small island where Ben could visit him regularly? Could Ben remain in the Navy and hide the presence of an ex-pirate lover?

His mind swirled with possibilities and concerns, trying to envision how the two might live and love together. There were two absolutes - he couldn't become a pirate and he couldn't keep chasing Quinn, risking the day that he would have to watch his lover dangle at the end of a rope.

The door opened and Ben tensed, unready to confront Quinn, but it was only the cabin boy, bearing a tray. He didn't appear surprised to find Ben in the captain's bed. "Cap'n said to bring you some breakfast." He set the food down on the table.

"Thank you, ah - "

"Ani, sir."

"Ani is an unusual name."

The boy appeared accustomed to the observation. "Me mum gave it to me. Some of the guys used to tease me that she wanted a girl, but the Cap'n don't allow that no more." The boy's hero worship of his captain was obvious in his respectful tones.

"Well, thank you for bringing breakfast. You may leave now." He tried to sound nonchalant, embarrassed by his nakedness under the sheet. His stomach growled with hunger, his body demanding sustenance after last night's vigorous activity.

Oddly wise eyes studied him for a moment. "Aye, sir. There's some clean clothes for you too. Cap'n's orders." Ani departed as Ben winced inwardly. The boy must have been in the room earlier to leave the clothes. Ben wondered what depravities the boy had been exposed to in his few years that the sight of a naked man sprawled in his Captain's bed provoked no reaction, not even curiosity.

Alone, Ben took advantage of the unaccustomed privacy to stand and stretch some more. Since he shared a cabin with his fellow officers, it was impossible to be politely circumspect at all times, but he rarely flaunted his nakedness. Ignoring his protesting stomach, he strolled to the small mirror and stared at his reflection. How bizarre. He looked the same. His hair was certainly more disheveled than usual and rough scratches from Quinn's beard marred his skin. A bruise on the base of his throat marked where Quinn latched on and suckled thirstily, but nothing indicated how much he felt his life was turned completely upside down like a ship during a hurricane.

A cry outside disturbed his introspection. He couldn't distinguish the words but realized he didn't want to be caught by Quinn ogling his own naked body. The clothes were hastily tugged on, the fabric coarse against his skin and the boots tight on his feet. Grabbing a brush from Quinn's toiletries, he rapidly brushed and tied his hair back with one of Quinn's leather ties before settling down to breakfast, rapidly clearing his plate.

The speed proved unessential as Quinn failed to appear. Ben waited, pacing impatiently. He concentrated on the movement and speed of the ship, noticing the sudden sharp turns. The pirate ship was catching the full power of the wind in its sails. The men's yells were excited, the lust for riches and battle in their tone. A prey had been sighted and was being chased.

Ben's instinctive guess was confirmed shortly by Quinn's return. Entering the cabin, he spoke abruptly, "We've spotted a Portuguese trading ship. From her route, she should be full of rich cargo from the Indies. We're going to take her."

"You do realize that this is a criminal act."

Stepping close, Quinn rested his hands on Ben's shoulders, lightly squeezing the tense muscles. "A criminal act to you, a way of life to me."

Resisting the urge to tilt his head and rub against those caressing hands, Ben vowed, "I won't participate in this fight."

Quinn didn't argue, not surprised at Ben's stand. "I didn't expect you would. But I dislike leaving a man chained in the midst of battle. Will you give me your word as an officer and a gentleman to remain here in the cabin?"

The hesitation was only momentary before Ben nodded. His experience with battle was much more limited than Quinn's, but the few skirmishes he'd seen convinced him of Quinn's wisdom. With cannons exploding, swords flashing, guns firing, and men dying, it would be dangerous to be defenseless. Accidents could easily occur under such turbulent circumstances.

He wished he could convince Quinn to bypass this ship, but the possibility of riches in its hold was too great. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride...and I would live in a beautiful mansion in England with this man, he thought wildly.

Quinn pulled Ben into his arms, molding the slender form to his own larger frame. His hands possessively clasped Ben's buttocks, pressing their hips together. Ben's arms twined around Quinn's broad back as he yielded to the embrace. Quinn kissed him long and deep, lips and tongue communicating his need and desire.

Ben almost staggered when he was abruptly released. Giving Ben a hard stare to memorize his passion-filled face, Quinn reached out to massage Ben's erection. "I'll take care of this when I return," he promised before swirling around and striding out of the cabin.

Lightly touching his swollen lips, Ben forced his mind to analyze his situation. Being weaponless made him uncomfortable. There was no guarantee that the battle would remain above the deck. The sparseness of the furniture revealed few places where an additional brace of pistols might be found, but Ben began rummaging through, hoping for luck.

He caught his breath as he shifted the clothes and small items in the footlocker and found it there. It was a sword, a beautiful sword with a gold hilt and an elegant scabbard with a tassel dangling from one side. An officer's sword, reserved to wear with a dress uniform on special occasions. He pulled it loose from the scabbard to discover the metal gleamed, carefully preserved and maintained. The sword belt was easy to find and he strapped it around his hips, wryly noting the distance between where the faint mark in the leather indicated Quinn must usually notch it and where he notched it. His lover's hips were slim, but only in proportion to his broad shoulders.

His lover.

The roar of the cannons disturbed his thoughts and once again he focused on the noise, his only source for information outside this cabin. The shattering of wood signaled a direct hit. But which ship? Angry and wounded men screaming and cursing fluently in a foreign language indicated the Portuguese took the blow. Shouts and orders from both ships as the victim organized a return barrage and the pirates prepared to fire a second round. More cannons, more breaking wood, more screams. The thunk of grappling hooks catching on the other boat. The firing of pistols and the clash of swords.

Ben paced as he listened, straining for some sound that would indicate the victor. The Portuguese were fighting valiantly but the pirates were ruthless. The sound of feet thundered down the hallway and Ani slammed into the room, followed closely by another man who yelled indecipherable curses while raising his sword, obviously intending to strike at the youth. Ben's reaction was instinctive, the downward swing of the other's sword halted by his own. The man grinned savagely, stepping back to raise his sword in a mock salute.

"I am not a member of this crew, but I will not let you harm this boy."

From the other's expression, he neither understood nor cared what Ben said, slashing almost before Ben finished speaking. They battled furiously in the small room, lunging and parrying. Ani hopped on the bed, staying out of their path. The sounds outside dimmed until Ben heard only the harsh noise of his and his opponent's breath as they struggled for victory.

The man was skilled but Ben was better. The fight concluded when Ben's sword slipped past the other's guard, the power behind Ben's thrust making his sword sink into the unprotected chest almost effortlessly. The Portuguese gasped in surprise, clutching at the wound. He fell to his knees then dropped to lie on the ground as Ben withdrew his sword. Ben kneeled, one hand gently touching the other's head. "I am sorry," he whispered, though from the sudden laxness of the body, he knew his words went unheard by any but Ani.

They were both silent as Ben whispered a brief prayer for the man's soul. The sounds from above exploded back into his ears. "Why did he attack you?"

A shrug was his answer. "Dunno. I was just helping reload the cannon. Cap'n don't like me to fight unless I have to."

If the boy was one of his younger brothers, Ben would have gathered him into an enveloping hug, soothing him after the trauma of watching a man die. Ani was composed, not hysterical, those ancient eyes saying a hug was neither desired nor expected. But while the specter of violent death was an old acquaintance for Ani, it was a relative newcomer for Ben. Staying in the room with the body of a man he'd killed, even one who would callously attack a child, was impossible. Surely Quinn would understand why Ben broke his word. "Stay here. I want to see what is happening."

The calm in Ani's eyes flickered. "Not with him, I'm not."

Ben debated the wisdom of forcing the boy to remain then conceded to the indignant statement. Despite his faade of toughness, he was still a boy. "Very well. Stay behind me."

The scene was already familiar from his limited experience. The ships were grappled together with hooks. Pirates and Portuguese fought on both decks, some one-on-one, others in such a melee of confusion that Ben couldn't determine who was attacking and who was defending. Finesse and chivalry were in short supply, power and savagery being the order of the day.

He remained in the doorway, one hand on Ani's shoulder to keep him in place as he cast his glance for Quinn. He located him finally on the other ship, fighting the Portuguese captain. He watched enraptured at the ease of the big man's swing, the quickness of his parries, the stealth of his attacks. Quinn's reputation as a fighter was formidable, but Ben had assumed it was inflated. Now he knew he was wrong.

The suddenness of Quinn's victory surprised Ben. The captain's sword went flying but rather than striking down his opponent, Quinn swung him around, pushing him to his knees. The pirate's sword rested on the vulnerable skin of the Portuguese's throat. They were speaking words Ben could not hear across the distance. Finally, the captain began yelling orders to his crew. His words slowly penetrated, the Portuguese lowering their swords. The pirates had won their prize.

The order and efficiency of the pirate crew was a surreal experience to Ben. Indiscriminate looting was not permitted, nor were the captives sadistically teased. The Portuguese were swiftly roped together on the deck, two pirates keeping a watchful eye for any sudden moves. The remainder formed a line across the ships, from the cargo hold of their victim's ship to their own. Smaller crates were passed from man to man; larger ones lifted with rope and tackle and swung over to their new home. Each crate was opened and inspected, the pirate doing the inspection calling out the contents while Quinn noted a description in his logbook.

The Portuguese glowered and muttered resentful comments, apparently not appreciating the methodical loading of their goods. The pirates ignored them except for an occasional kick from one of the guards to ensure their subordination.

Ben paced on the deck of the pirate ship. No one ordered him below and he was determined not to participate but found himself unable to stop watching. Quinn's power over both crews was absolute. The pirates obeyed his every command without hesitation in a smooth operation obviously performed many times. The breeze caught his hair, blowing the brown strands into his face. He brushed it back impatiently and continued listing the precious spices, silks, and other goods. His legs were braced wide to keep his balance as the ships rocked together when the ocean waves swelled. Ben flushed as he realized he was staring at that powerful stance, dreaming of last night and remembering the force and strength of those long legs.

The Portuguese ship was homeward bound, its cargo hold full, making its plunder a lengthy task despite the seamless coordination of the pirates' efforts. Evening had almost fallen by the time the Portuguese ship was picked clean.

Quinn said, "I believe we'll take their cannon balls and powder. See to it, Mr. Andrews."

"Aye, Cap'n." As the pirates retreated to their own ship, the brawniest fellow broke out of the line and began ransacking the remaining munitions, several of his crewmates helping.

Yelling across the distance, the Portuguese captain protested. "Captain, you would leave us defenseless!"

"You're lucky I leave you alive," Quinn replied heartlessly. He snapped his logbook shut. Without raising his voice, his words carried clearly. "Besides, there's no longer any reason for anyone to attack you. You'll be quite safe."

Quinn's crew laughed uproariously at his dry retort.

Once munitions were safely loaded and the pirates back on their own ship, the grappling hooks were removed and restored to their places. The sails of the pirate ship were adjusted to catch the breeze and they glided away, leaving behind an unhappy crew of Portuguese sailors staring after them, cursing.

"Dinner, Mr. Hawthorne. And an extra ration of rum for the men. We need to celebrate." Happy cheers greeted Quinn's announcement. Looking quizzically at Ben, he continued, "And I understand from Ani there is some carrion in my cabin. Mr. Andrews, please remove it. Mr. Larkin, thank you for your assistance."

"It was hardly my pleasure, Captain. I simply don't like to see the vulnerable attacked by someone stronger," Ben said pointedly, wondering if he was mad to show his sarcasm in front of the crew.

There was a brief moment of silence as their eyes clashed, the antagonism radiating from Ben, the Captain seemingly nonchalantly at ease. A swarthy fellow close to Ben broke the invisible battle by slapping him on the shoulder. "Neither do we. We like 'em fat, full of plunder, and putting up a fight! Just like a good wench!"

Laughter broke out from several of the men while Quinn smiled faintly. Ben flushed, wondering what the crew would say if they knew he was the Captain's plunder last night. Their disbelief and shock would likely equal that of his own crew. He consciously willed his shoulders to relax as he bantered back, "The members of the Royal Navy would agree with you. We like to capture pirates full of plunder - plunder to return to its legal owners."

"But you'll never catch us!" Ani crowed, having climbed a few feet up the rigging so his small form could be easily noticed. "Because we've got the best Captain in the world. Three cheers for the Captain!"

The pirates eagerly followed his lead. "Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray! Hip hip hooray!"

Quinn bowed elegantly. "I thank you gentlemen, for your confidence in me. And now, I believe we all have tasks to perform, including mine to calculate every man's share of today's wealth. Mr. Larkin, with me." The pirates good-naturedly went to their appointed tasks, some climbing into the rigging to man the watch, the others dispersing across the ship to handle various chores. Quinn strode below deck, heading for his cabin. Ben glanced around for a moment. Killing the Portuguese sailor for Ani had earned him a measure of respect from the crew, but it was a small measure. Cautious looks stated plainly that they were still aware of his position as a member of the Royal Navy. He followed Quinn, not interested in testing the depth of their camaraderie.

The pirate Captain was already in his cabin, neatly storing the logbook and his writing quill. He pounced as soon as Ben shut the door, pushing the younger man against the door, lifting him up and ripping at his shirt to expose his chest. "You were supposed to stay here for your own protection. You could have been killed."

"The battle came to me, Captain." Any further explanation was lost as Quinn's mouth latched onto one nipple, using his lips and tongue to stiffen and taste the brown peak.

Ben wrapped his legs around Quinn, tangling his hands in the pirate's thick, loose hair. His cock was swollen to its full length and he could feel Quinn's stiffness poking him. When Quinn showed no inclination to stop feasting, Ben moaned low in his ear, "Will you give me more marks?"

His answer was that hungry mouth moving to his other nipple, spending an equal amount of time devouring its pointed tip. Ben held on, caressing the strong back and firm arms that held him up, digging his boot heels into Quinn's buttocks, knowing his pirate lover would stop only when he wished.

"I'll give you as many marks as I need to." Ben almost missed the words, as Quinn nuzzled the faint line of hair down the center of his chest. "So many marks you'll never wear a shirt unbuttoned." Quinn leaned back so their eyes could meet, keeping Ben raised off the ground in his powerful grip.

"That's hardly fair," Ben said, one finger tracing in the hollow Quinn's throat. "You go without a shirt." He hadn't today, during the battle, but from the tanned glow on Quinn's chest, the pirate spent many hours bare-chested.

"I don't want anyone else seeing this." Using his hips to hold Ben in place, Quinn tugged his shirt completely loose from his breeches. His hands drifted up and down Ben's smooth chest, from his waist to his shoulders. Stepping back, he let Ben slide down, his booted feet again meeting the floor. "I must have you."

Without argument, Ben dropped the rough cotton shirt to the floor. He sat on the bed to remove his boots before unstrapping the sword and stripping off his trousers. His eyes held Quinn's the entire time, the pirate loosely cupping his own shaft. He started to crawl onto the covers but was stopped by Quinn's, "No. There. I want you there."

Hesitantly, Ben obeyed Quinn's gesture by walking over to the table, leaning forward, placing his forearms on the cool wood surface. He spread his legs slightly, lifting his ass into the air, before looking over his shoulder.

Quinn approved his position with a nod, already removing his own clothes impatiently. Approaching Ben, he stroked his satiny back, buttocks, and flanks. "No woman could compare to you. You are perfection."

The compliment caused a shiver to ripple down Ben's spine. A few giggly girls had called him 'handsome' or 'cute' during his life. A few barmaids used words even more blunt, but no one had ever so vehemently declared his attractiveness. Particularly not such a dominant, handsome man. It warmed Ben in a place in his heart that he had never even known was cold. To show his pleasure, he tilted his pelvis to improve Quinn's access.

Leaning over to blanket him, Quinn kissed his way down Ben's back. Some kisses were light, scattered affairs; others lasted until Ben knew his back would be a mass of love bites. Quinn was fulfilling his promise. The small of Ben's back received a lingering kiss before Quinn dipped to explore the warm crevice of his buttocks.

Ben's slender frame shook as Quinn raked his teeth of the soft flesh of his buttocks, taking tiny nips of the firm skin. He squirmed, trying to bump his cock against the table, desperate for simulation on his sensitive flesh. Quinn seemed to instinctively understand his need, grasping his cock tightly and pumping slowly.

Then Quinn was leaning over Ben, the fingers of his free hand coated with oil, one digit slipping inside the puckered opening. "Tell me you want this," he demanded.

"I do," Ben gasped. "You know I do."

"You love this. You love how I can make you feel." His voice demanded but his fingers were persuasively coaxing.

Taking the biggest gamble of his life, Ben turned his head to pierce Quinn's eyes with his own. "I could love you. If you weren't a pirate."

Quinn laughed bitterly. "Too late, my Lieutenant. You're years too late on that score." Kissing the slim shoulder, he said, "We'll just have to settle for lust." With those words, his cock drove into Ben's yielding body, one palm flat on the table, using his entire body to rock back and forth. His other hand still stroked Ben's cock, matching the steady rhythm of his hips.

Thrusting back eagerly, Ben met every driving stroke, his moans encouraging Quinn to pound him harder and harder. One horrible day, Ben had seen Greek fire, known fear at the way it leapt from sail to sail, wild and unpredictable, devouring everything in its path. Ben felt a victim of that fire, the greedy yellow-orange flames burning brightly in his body, racing along his skin, through his muscles, until every inch of his frame was enthralled by the fiery dance. He sobbed helplessly, unable to process the glory flaming through every nerve.

Their release, when it came, took both of them at the same moment, the final sparks exploding in their minds. They collapsed together, Quinn's larger body slumping onto Ben, pressing him onto the table, almost forcing the air from his lungs. Ben didn't protest the weight, cherishing that their lovemaking affected Quinn as much as himself.

The pirate recovered quicker, standing and pulling Ben up, cradling the Lieutenant's exhausted body against his own. Ben leaned back gladly, letting Quinn's strength support him.

"We must clean and go back. The crew will expect us for a celebration dinner," Quinn murmured, burrowing his face into Ben's flowing hair. Ben merely nodded weakly, wishing nothing more than to curl into bed with this man but acknowledging that their absence would be questioned. His stomach growled at the mention of food, reminding him that regular meals had not been a priority today.

Freeing Ben from his clasp, Quinn picked up the pitcher of water for bathing, poured some into the bowl and wet a towel to gently clean the sweat and semen from Ben's body. The Lieutenant turned and moved as instructed, appreciating the comfort of Quinn's touch. The tenderness of his hands mocked his proclamation that lust was their only option.

"Dress." At Quinn's order, Ben reached for the towel to reciprocate but Quinn shook his head. Ben reluctantly collected his clothes and dressed as Quinn briskly cleaned himself.

"We could have more," Ben said fiercely, gaining courage from Quinn's physical actions. "We were meant to be together. You can't enjoy this life. Leave it."

"There is no other life for me. Not any longer." Quinn spoke with an air of resignation. He waved one hand dismissively as Ben started to speak again. "Enough, Lieutenant. Don't confuse passion with love. Particularly not an unnatural passion such as ours."

Though he kept silent, Ben's mind remained active as he brushed his hair and bound it back into a queue. The sorrow surrounding Quinn revealed more of his thoughts than the pirate realized. Quinn might pretend only passion and lust existed between them, but the subtle yearning in his words and the softness of his touch revealed he desired more. He would not be so bitter and yet so resigned if he saw Ben only as a play toy for pleasure. All Ben had to do was the impossible - find a way for them to stay together. And if the scuttlebutt on the Indy was true, perhaps the impossible wasn't such a Herculean task...

*********

Dinner was a surprisingly enjoyable time for Ben. The pirates spread over the deck, eating a simple yet tasty meal of meat, beans and biscuits. Light from lanterns and the sparkling stars held back the darkness while the breeze was pleasantly warm, still carrying a faint hint of the spices tucked safely away in the hold. The conversation was coarse and ribald but cheerful, as the pirates crowed over their victory today and similar past successes. While Ben might disdain their profession, the relaxed camaraderie was astonishingly fun. As their leader, Quinn received a subtle deference and respect, but otherwise the group did not exhibit the same consciousness of class and rank that marked the Royal Navy.

Ben was tacitly welcomed, his saving of Ani earning him respect even though pointed comments about being part of the enemy were tossed his way. He took the comments with humor, tossing back stinging remarks which only increased the friendly banter.

In the odd manner of a bully who will befriend his former victim, Jeffries settled close to Ben, treating him as a close friend. The respective abilities of the Navy and the pirates were being hotly debated, the pirates winning every case in their own estimation. "And the sword fighting - you got to admit we're the best with our swords! You Navy swabbies can't touch a skilled pirate with a cutlass."

"We touched the Raven and the Defiance. We vanquished both those crews." At the start of the evening, Ben might have hesitated to make such a blunt statement, but the pirates showed a determined belief in their own superiority that would handle any criticism.

"Ah," Jeffries said dismissively. "Bad captains, both of those ships. You got lucky. Just picking off the weak so the rest of us can cover more ocean. Did us a favor, you did."

"Ain't no one who can defeat our Cap'n. He's the best swordsman in the world," Ani boasted.

Ben cast a mocking glance at Quinn, counting on the pirates to be oblivious to his double meaning. "I have seen your Captain's skill with his sword. It is indeed...formidable. But perhaps my skill is as good."

"Yes, but your skill hardly matters if the superiority of your opponent does not even allow you to demonstrate it." Quinn smiled, his observant eyes noting Ben's sudden flush and appreciating the true reason.

"Hey, let's see you fight!" Jeffries punched Ben in the arm. "Fight the Captain."

The idea quickly found favor with the rest, men rising and clearing a space before the two potential combatants could object. Quinn raised his eyebrows at Ben. "Mr. Larkin, shall we?"

"Certainly, Captain." Ben rose, handing his plate to Ani.

The two faced off, Quinn unsheathing his sword, Ben pulling out the sword he'd borrowed from the Captain's footlocker. His own sword had not been returned to him so Ben had refastened the purloined one while dressing. Despite his challenging words, Ben seriously doubted his ability to win. The other man was older, with years more experience. His taller height and broader shoulders gave him a longer reach and more power. Ben could only hope that his technique was superior and his reflexes faster. Even if he lost, his competitive personality always welcomed the chance to test himself against a formidable opponent.

They started slowly, discovering each other's measure, searching for strengths and weaknesses. Steel clashed almost delicately on steel as they sought openings, watched how each held their weapon, their posture, determined whether the other would be gullible enough to fall for a feint.

Neither fought with the extravagance favored by those who told tales of pirates. Barrels were not knocked over, neither swung from a rope, and no one back flipped away from his opponent, leaving himself vulnerable in the quest for nonsensical theatrics.

They remained within the small area cleared by the sailors, advancing and retreating, boots making a rustling sound on the wooden deck. Eyes fixed on each other, they sought the subtle flickers of intelligence and emotion which telegraphed the next chosen tactic. The motions of their swords almost blurred, so quickly did they parry and lunge. As they fought with the elegance of true swordsmen, their entire focus was concentrated solely on each other and the battle to be the victor.

Quinn, Ben realized within the first few minutes, was good. Extraordinarily good. It should have been obvious from his dominant carriage, his skill at command and strategy, even his methodical books, but his artistry with his weapon was the decisive indicator. Quinn was raised a gentleman. Only early training by a Master could have produced a swordsman of such ability.

At least, he consoled himself, as Quinn's sword slipped through his defenses, the sharp tip of the blade coming to rest delicately on his chest; he'd lasted far longer than the Portuguese captain. He stepped back and bowed as the pirates cheered and chortled, well pleased with the outcome.

Quinn lowered his weapon and bowed in return. "Shall we make it two out of three?"

"I have little doubt you will win again," Ben conceded. "Your skill is superb, sir." He spoke softly, the two of them still so fixated on each other they were isolated from the boisterous conversation surrounding them.

"Does this mean that you are willing to acknowledge the...dominance of my weaponry," Quinn taunted, his voice equally soft.

"Contrary to the impression you may have received of me, I do not normally surrender without a fight, Captain."

"Then let us continue the entertainment for my crew." At Ben's nod, they raised their swords to salute each other before stepping back into position, the quest for superiority beginning anew.

**********

Waking up in a pirate's bed, feeling incredibly well loved, was starting to feel very comfortable, Ben decided. He stretched and revised that thought as his body protested even more than yesterday. The sword battles had severely taxed his thigh and calf muscles and Quinn's insatiable lovemaking strained them even further.

He rose out of bed and crossed to the mirror, again searching for some sign that would indicate another night of indecent debauchery or the uniting of two souls pre-destined to be together. Finding only new love bites and scratches from Quinn's beard, he hastily dressed in his own clothes which had been cleaned and left neatly stacked on the table. A sense of uneasiness pervaded his mind though he couldn't discern its cause. Wondering why Ani hadn't appeared yet with breakfast, he decided to venture forth and explore.

Everything was calm on the ship, the crew attending their normal chores. Quinn was standing by the railing, hands clasped behind his back, staring out to sea. His white pants and black boots clung to his legs while the loose white shirt billowed in the breeze. Hearing Ben's approach, he turned to face him.

"Mr. Larkin."

"Captain."

"I've been contemplating your presence on my ship, Mr. Larkin."

Quinn spoke loud enough that nearby crewmembers could hear him. It was apparent to Ben that this conversation was intended to be overheard. Speaking in the same polite tone of voice, he asked, "And what conclusions have you drawn, Captain?"

"We owe you a debt of gratitude for saving Ani's life, Mr. Larkin." Ben nodded, not speaking, allowing Quinn to continue, "But you are a member of the Royal Navy and someone whose job is to see us hang at the end of a rope. I believe it is time for you to leave us, Mr. Larkin."

Hearing footfalls behind him, Ben glanced back to see several of the pirates form a loose semi-circle around him. "I see, Captain. And how do you propose I do that?"

"In a boat, Mr. Larkin. In a boat. If you would..." Quinn gestured over the railing and Ben realized he was expected to climb down into the lifeboat, to be cast adrift in the middle of the ocean. He looked around at his captors. A few of the pirates' eyes were conflicted, obviously not desiring Ben's probable death at sea, but the majority were stone-faced. A naval officer would always be an enemy. Pleading or arguing obviously would have little impact. For a moment, he contemplated revealing their unnatural passions to the crew but discarded the idea. Destroying Quinn's reputation in front of his men would not help his situation. Ben had no interest in dooming Quinn by causing a mutiny.

"Very well, Captain." With dignity intact, he stepped forward, brushing close to Quinn. Their eyes met in a stare, Quinn's as calm as an ocean without waves, Ben's searching for an answer for this abrupt dismissal. Finding no hint to Quinn's motivations, Ben swung himself over the railing and climbed down into the small lifeboat, sitting down and locking the oars into place.

Ani's voice unexpectedly floated down. "Cap'n, can I give him some breakfast? Would hate him to die on an empty stomach. Not after he saved my life and all."

"Very well, Ani."

The youth climbed down rapidly, pausing only a second to drop a bundle into the boat before climbing back up. Ben could hear Quinn's quiet voice issuing commands and the sound of pirates moving back to their chores.

Dazed and confused, Ben rowed away from the ship as it sailed off in the opposite direction. When he was far enough away that his actions wouldn't be easily observed, he stopped, carefully placing the oars into the boat. He was curious to unwrap the package from Ani. The youth was so devoted to the Captain, Ben found it difficult to believe he would have offered succor to someone that Quinn dumped off his ship. He pulled open the cloth to see some biscuits, a hunk of cheese, a flask of rum...and a compass, a sextant and a map. Unrolling the map, he noted that his location was marked, as well as directions in a neat hand to the nearest inhabited island. Ben studied the directions intently, calculating in his mind. With luck, a hard day of rowing would see him to safety.

How fascinating. Ani could not have prepared this bundle without Quinn's knowledge, which meant the entire scene was orchestrated. Despite the pirate's callous faade, he had seen that Ben was prepared to survive. Ben experienced a sudden, savage satisfaction at what this pretense revealed of the pirate's true feelings. Quinn was running scared. He couldn't hurt Ben, nor could he handle the emotional consequences that being with Ben would entail, preferring to end the relationship brutally rather than try to change his entire life. Ben promised himself that being dumped in the ocean was only a temporary setback. Last time, Quinn had caught him.

Next time, next time, Ben vowed, he would catch Quinn. And keep him.

***********

What was left in life, when you have been to heaven and forced yourself to walk away from those pearly gates? When you have met the other half of your soul and said good-bye?

Quinn stared at the disappearing boat as it shrank smaller and smaller. He wanted to walk away rather than burn the memory of Ben leaving him into his brain, but this was a hair shirt he couldn't strip from his skin.

In the first half of his life, Quinn had trusted. He'd believed in the goodness of man before facing a personal betrayal from the one closest to him. How honest and open he had been, before a young protŽgŽ had stabbed him in the back. A protŽgŽ almost as beautiful as Ben, but with light blue eyes and shiny black hair. Falsely accused and condemned for unspeakable crimes, Quinn had been unwilling to give his betrayer the satisfaction of rotting away in prison. Grabbing the only chance to escape and a way to survive, he'd become a pirate. Over the years, he'd become reluctantly reconciled to his life.

In the boat, he saw Ben stop rowing and examine the package from Ani, where he would discover the means for survival. Quinn cursed the remnants of his honor. Even now, he wanted to order the ship around, scoop up Ben and keep him captive. Imprison him in his cabin. Drag him into a life of piracy until the Lieutenant also accepted an existence filled with selfishness and illegal acts.

He could do it. Quinn had seen the look in Ben's eyes, had felt Ben's immediate and willing response to his slightest touch, heard his absurd declaration of possible love. It was undeniably sexual fascination rather than love, but the attraction between the two was vibrantly real. Ben's sense of duty would have made him fight hard, but sooner or later, he would have capitulated completely to Quinn's seduction, undoubtedly becoming the best, most trusted member of Quinn's crew.

But then Ben would no longer be Ben. He would be as jaded and cynical as Quinn.

Quinn sighed heavily as Ani's small form stood by him. "You okay, Cap'n?"

"Yes, Ani, I am fine." Quinn answered by rote, resting one hand on the boy's head, brushing the loose strands away from his forehead. The lad needed another haircut. "I should have sent you with him."

"Me, sir? With him?" The boy sounded horrified. Grudgingly, he conceded, "He was a good fighter."

"He would have sent you to England, ensured that you had a proper upbringing."

"Stuck me in an orphan home, more like, Cap'n. I know what they're like. Horrible places." The lad's tone was legitimately dark. England could be a harsh land for those without family or connections. "Besides, I'm going to be a pirate."

"No, you're not," Quinn corrected automatically. It was a familiar refrain for them. "You're going to be something better than a pirate."

"Ain't nothing better than a pirate," Ani muttered.

Quinn smiled fondly. Despite the lack of physical resemblance between the lad and his mother, they shared a similar strength of spirit. She'd died in his arms, worn out by a life that no woman should endure. He had sworn to take care of her son, an oath he intended to fulfill to the best of his abilities. "Time for you to study, Ani. History today, I believe. Go read in my cabin and I'll be there shortly."

"Yes, Cap'n." The boy dashed away, obeying the command. He never fought his tutoring, though he realized it was intended to prepare him for a better profession than robbery on the sea. Ani was a fast learner, absorbing knowledge easily, and a delight to teach.

Quinn's gaze strayed again to the sea. The boat was almost gone from sight. Almost but not quite yet. He would wait until it completely vanished, savoring even this small vision of Ben.

It was all he had left of Heaven.

*******

"Ship ahoy!"

Quinn tensed at the familiar call, which could lead to rich pluckings or a battle. Raising his spyglass, he peered in the direction indicated and cursed. A warship. The British navy was diligently pursuing its mission to hunt down pirates and free ships on the trading lanes from the dangers of being raided. Ben had been gone for three months but Quinn still wondered at every fresh reminder whether the young Lieutenant reached safety.

"Come about, Mr. Hawthorne. Let us leave this place."

"The men wouldn't mind a fight, Captain."

"Warships carry little wealth, Mr. Hawthorne. I see no reason to endanger the crew without benefit."

"Aye, Captain." Despite his protest, Hawthorne evinced no disappointment at the Captain's order. Quinn's emphasis on shedding as little blood as possible had slowly won favor with the men over the years.

As Hawthorne began busily directing the men, giving orders to turn about and flee, Quinn continued studying their enemy. He read the name chiseled on its side - the Indomitable. Not only a ship of the British navy, but Ben's ship. He felt compelled to study the deck though the chance of sighting one particular individual at this distance was negligible.

"Captain?"

"Yes, Mr. Hawthorne."

"They're showing a white flag, Captain."

Tilting his glass away from the deck and toward the mast, Quinn noted that the ship did indeed fly a white flag of truce. "How very curious, Mr. Hawthorne." Lowering the glass, he studied the ship, wondering what the white flag could possibly mean. The British Navy did not usually show an inclination to chat with pirates. Could they be looking for Ben? Could someone have seen his ship in port and made the connection when Ben went missing? "Shall we talk to them, Mr. Hawthorne?"

The slim pirate shrugged. "Your decision, Captain."

"Then let's drop anchor, Mr. Hawthorne. Raise our white flag and let them catch up to us."

More orders were barked and the ship slowed. The men automatically gathered on the deck, cutlasses ready and pistols primed. They muttered among themselves, but it was more out of curiosity than fear.

"Keep some men by the anchor, I want to be able to leave quickly, if necessary."

The warship approached, its anchor released to slow it down, the sails trimmed back to deflect the wind.

Quinn watched as the other captain walked to the side closest, calling across, "Captain Quinn, we wish to talk!"

"Come aboard, Captain," he called. "I will guarantee your safety until you leave this ship, as long as you guarantee not to attack." Perhaps this meeting was madness, but if there was a chance Ben was still lost at sea or stranded on some remote island, Quinn had to know. As the only person aware of Ben's last location and his likely route, Quinn would have the best chance of finding him.

"Agreed, Captain. One Captain's word to another."

A lifeboat was lowered from the other ship, the captain and two sailors boarding it, rowing over to the pirate ship. Both the pirates and the navy crew remained tense throughout the procedure, uncomfortable with the radical departure from convention. A few tried to appear calm, coiling ropes or leaning against the railing and whittling but hard stares crossed the divide and many hands remained resting on their weapons.

By mutual unspoken agreement, the two retreated to Quinn's cabin. As the British captain sat, Quinn pulled out a decanter of brandy and poured them both a drink. Quinn took the other chair, focusing on appearing relaxed. Many long years had passed since such a close encounter with one of the kind he had once called friends.

Forestalling the temptation to make a comment about how Quinn had gotten the brandy, the Captain sipped slowly before saying, "A fine brand, sir. Very nice."

"Thank you."

"I'm Captain John Pilford. And I understand you are British, sir."

"I was born British, sir. I consider myself a citizen of the ocean now," Quinn corrected.

"You have no love for your country? No need to return to her?" Only a hint of curiosity showed in the man's pale eyes, as if the answer made little difference to him.

"There is no way for me - or any of my men - to return to our native land without facing the threat of gaol and the hangman's noose. We prefer to live free."

Staring at Quinn over the brandy glass, he asked calmly, "And if there was? A way to return?"

Abruptly, Quinn said, "Let me not dance around words, Captain Pilford. State your mission plainly." There seemed little likelihood this meeting was about Ben, not with Pilford's opening, and Quinn's patience with word games was limited.

The Captain nodded, willing to cut to the heart of the matter. "War is coming, Captain. It may be Spain; it may be France. But it is coming. The damned foreigners will not acknowledge British superiority and we must decisively establish our position on the seas. But I tell you honest, sir, the British Navy is stretched too thin, our resources not plentiful enough to fight both a foreign enemy and you - gentlemen of the seas."

"You have an offer to make to us," Quinn said slowly, instantly seeing the potential strategy of converting one enemy to a friend.

"To any Captain and crew who are British and willing to fight for their country. Accept a letter of marque from his Highness and become a privateer. You may continue to board and seize goods from any foreign ship, but you will not attack British ships. If necessary, you will assist the British Navy in any battles."

"And in return?"

"A full pardon for you and your men, for whatever crimes you may have committed, either during your - career - or before. Two years, Captain. Two years of privateering for his Highness and you may keep your - booty and return home. Any booty from non-English ships, that is."

"I see." Wild excitement rushed through Quinn but he retained a cool expression. A logical man, he had never dared to dream that he might return home. He believed the truth of his words when he'd told Ben this life was his only option. "We would need your guarantee in writing."

"You don't need my guarantee, Captain. I have the letter of marque on my ship, sealed with the King's stamp. You can renounce this life before the hour is up."

The Captain was perhaps the same age as Quinn, with the confident bearing of a man accustomed to command but an otherwise unremarkable appearance. The almost colorless eyes, dark hair, long nose, thin lips, and plain features made him an unlikely candidate to be an angelic messenger but Quinn had to restrain the impulse to drop to his knees and kiss his hand. "I must put it to the men. They have to be part of this decision."

"Handle how you think best, Captain."

Swallowing the rest of his drink and setting down the glass, Quinn stood. "Then let us talk to them together, Captain." If his life was going to begin anew, Quinn was impatient for the journey. He gestured for the Captain to precede him, inwardly planning the words he would say to his men. These words might allow him to return to his country, to see his family again, perhaps... He shied from the thought of seeking out Ben. Even as a privateer, rather than a pirate, he was still too old, too hardened, and too much the wrong sex for a young, vibrant creature like Ben. But at least he could clear his name and see those who had loved him in his youth.

These words needed to be the best he had ever spoken in his life.

********

An hour later, Quinn was jubilantly celebrating in his mind while allowing his happiness to leak out only in the form of a pleased smile. Once the issue was presented, several of the men had argued with a surprising passion for becoming privateers, revealing an unexpected homesickness. Quinn agreed with them, suddenly yearning for the green hills of England, so different from the tropical islands they normally frequented. The few arguments against the new arrangement were almost perfunctory, as if some men were simply incapable of trusting the fates - and the British government - to be kind, preferring to reject hope before being disappointed. In the end, even those who voted against becoming privateers accepted the will of the majority, signing their names or marks on an official agreement for Pilford's records.

Fortunately, Captain Pilford's prohibition against the retention of English booty caused little concern, as their last prey was Dutch. With Quinn's escort, Pilford made a thorough search of the cargo hold, checking the seals and opening several crates to verify. Quinn and Pilford returned to the upper deck. Debating ways to determine if Ben was on the Indy, Quinn noted a trunk being swung over the side of his ship.

"That's a little large for a letter of marque," Quinn noted, tensing.

"Yes, that's the trunk for the Lieutenant who will be staying on your ship."

"A Lieutenant staying on board? You didn't mention this, Captain."

"Ah, yes." The Captain hesitated briefly. "I must admit I have some concerns about the Lieutenant's safety, considering your men are not accustomed to the presence of a naval officer, but the Admiralty insisted. You are representing the King, now. We must be kept apprised of your activities. And Larkin volunteered. He's a capable man and has had some experience with pirates."

"Larkin?" Quinn wheezed, unable to form any other words. As if called, a head appeared over the railing, as Ben climbed up the rope ladder and stepped onto the deck. He was dressed in official uniform, the dark blue jacket and trousers, Quinn's sword strapped on his waist. The blond hair was tied back, the sun catching fire in the red highlights.

"Lieutenant!" Pilford called, heading for Ben.

Walking over to his commander, Larkin snapped to attention and saluted. "Sir!"

"Lieutenant, this is Captain Quinn. You will be under his command and follow all orders which do not contravene your responsibilities as a naval officer."

"Aye aye sir!" Ben said tensely, his face blank.

"At ease, Lieutenant." Pilford turned back to Quinn. "This is Lieutenant Benjamin Larkin. He's fairly new to navy service, but he's a good man. Very intelligent. Excellent at strategy."

"It's a pleasure to be officially introduced, Lieutenant Larkin." Quinn gave a slight bow.

Pilford continued talking, "He has orders to keep the government informed of your activities. Various contact points where he can leave letters and possible rendezvous sites. If things are going well, he'll return to our ship at one of those meetings."

"I see."

"You have a problem with this, Captain Quinn?" Pilford asked sharply.

"No, Captain. I'm sure the Lieutenant and I will get along fine."

Pilford stepped closer to Quinn, dropping his voice. "Please don't regard Larkin as a spy, Captain, but merely a form of protection for his Majesty, that the authority of his government will not be abused. Larkin's an excellent sailor; he'll be an invaluable addition to your crew. Please take care of him."

Smiling to reassure Pilford, Quinn said, "Certainly, Captain. I'm sure Larkin will serve admirably as a member of my crew."

"Then I'll be off. Larkin, I'll expect to hear from you soon and see you in a few months."

Ben nodded while Quinn and Pilford shook hands, then Pilford climbed back into the lifeboat. Several of the pirates stood on deck with interested expressions on their face but they followed Quinn's lead, not indicating their acquaintance with Ben. Jeffries waited until the lifeboat was sailing away before clapping Ben on the back. "Couldn't stay away from the pirate life, could you, lad?"

"Privateer life, Jeffries. You're all privateers, now."

"You didn't tell him you had been on this ship, did you, Mr. Larkin." Depending on how Ben answered, Quinn knew having this conversation in front of the crew might not be wise. But the crew would be curious; better to have the reasons for Ben's apparent lying to his own Captain discussed in public than gossiped about in private. Quinn trusted Ben to be intelligent and tactful enough not to say, 'I had to be with you, Quinn,' no matter how much he craved to hear that response.

"No, Captain." Ben propped one leg on a water barrel, leaning his elbow on his knee, looking perfectly relaxed. "I had heard the rumors that we would be receiving letters of marque from the King for any pirate willing to sign. As an Englishman with an English crew, you were a prime candidate. I didn't wish to prejudice the offer. I told them I was captured by a Spanish ship, the Conquistador."

"So you were doing us a favor," Quinn replied. "How kind of you."

"I was doing my duty, Captain. I wasn't sure how Captain Pilford would react to my temporary stay and this ship is too valuable to the English cause. Besides, I needed another chance to demonstrate the superiority of my...sword."

Jeffries laughed. "You can keep trying, laddie! You won't defeat the Captain."

"I plan on trying until I succeed," Ben promised, his eyes warm as they rested on Quinn's face.

Ben's suggestive words were having a predictable effect on Quinn's body. Needing to cut the conversation short, the Captain ordered, "Well, Mr. Larkin, since we don't have a bunk for you, you can hang a hammock in my cabin for now. Mr. Hawthorne, arrange it, please." Quinn started to stride away, as if returning to his own responsibilities, but was stopped by Ben's words.

"First Captain, something for you and your crew." He knelt, flipping open his trunk to pull out a British flag and hand it to Quinn.

The Captain accepted it almost gingerly, cradling it to his chest. A combination of happiness and homesickness washed over him at the thought of sailing for his country. He carried the flag to the center mast, where two of his crew were already lowering the skull and crossbones. Reverently, they attached the flag and began raising it. Anyone wearing a hat doffed it and everyone stood at attention for the length of time it took the flag to reach its new home.

No longer gentlemen of the seas, they were all British sailors again.

*************

Inside the cabin, Ben was hanging the hammock, attaching one end to the bed and the other to a post on the dresser, checking the knots for tightness, his movements swift and efficient.

Quinn had stayed away as long as he could, allowing Hawthorne to handle getting Ben's trunk and the hammock to the cabin, but he could no longer bear to wait. Was Ben's return truly only for duty? Or were deeper emotions and desires at work? Ben ignored his entrance but couldn't ignore the hands dropping heavily on his shoulders. He stiffened.

"If you sleep in this cabin, you'll be sleeping in my bed."

Turning to face Quinn, Ben disdained false pretense by responding, "I am aware of that." His stance softened and his voice lowered as he said, "You may call our passion unnatural, but I can think of no finer place to sleep than in your arms. But," he said more briskly, "I won't be known as your catamite. I have work to do here and I intend to do it well."

"And I cannot imagine any finer way to sleep than with you in my arms." Quinn's large palm cupped the side of Ben's face. "But you must have the respect of the men," Quinn nodded. "I will accept that. What happens between us stays between us." While not exactly a proclamation of undying lust - or love - it was more than Quinn dared dream of, having Ben in his life and his bed.

"I must have your respect also. The men follow your lead."

Blue eyes studied blue-green, Quinn trying to decide if he could accept where this conversation was leading. He said finally, "You have always had my respect."

"Prove it. Take off your clothes, lie down on your bed, and prove you can relinquish control to me."

"And if I will not?"

"If you have no faith to trust yourself to me, I will never know if you truly respect me. I will make an excuse and bunk with the men."

Quinn walked away and stood staring out the porthole, obviously pondering how to respond to the outrageous demand. Ben grew even tenser, feeling like he was standing on the edge of a cutlass. The right step would lead him to safety; the wrong would slice him in two. Quinn's inherent inclination was to ride roughshod over Ben and Ben realized his unfortunate tendency to submit to Quinn's dominance, but that unequal relationship must be aggressively countermanded. He'd argued for the chance to volunteer on the privateer ship passionately, believing it essential for the security of his country. But undeniably, the persuasiveness of his words partially sprang out of self-interest. He was honest with himself about his motivations. He wanted to fulfill his duty and have the love of this pirate. Having both might be difficult if he became a useless play toy, always at Quinn's beck and call.

Ben's anxiety was replaced by confusion when Quinn strode back, stopping in front of him, and raising his booted foot. As Ben looked blankly at Quinn's leg dangling in mid-air, the pirate asked calmly, "Aren't you going to help me undress?"

Almost unbelieving of Quinn's capitulation, Ben reached out and grabbed the heel. Quinn twisted his foot free and pulled his leg out of the boot. Ben's mouth watered as he watched the long leg emerge from the soft black leather. He dropped the boot as Quinn raised his other foot and the action was repeated.

Quinn undressed without haste, his motions calm and poised. First, he unbuttoned the red jacket, tossing it over the back of the chair. The thin cotton shirt was pulled up and over his head to join the jacket. Raising his feet one by one again, he let Ben tug off the thick wool socks, not deigning to acknowledge Ben's hands lingering over his calves and ankles. The breeches were last, each button carefully undone before the cloth was pushed off his hips and allowed to fall to the floor. Quinn stood naked, proudly displaying his body, one of God's most glorious creations, truly designed in His own image. An Adam with no embarrassed need for a fig leaf.

Still silent, he padded to the bed and laid down, bending his knees and tucking his heels close to his buttocks. "This way."

Ben swallowed hard, hearing the implicit challenge in the words. Yes, Quinn would allow himself to be taken, but Ben would have to meet his eyes the entire time. Torn between crowing with triumph and screaming with fright, Ben drew a shallow breath to calm his nervousness. He undressed carefully but quickly, feeling Quinn's gaze watching him every second.

Finding the oil in Quinn's toiletries, Ben moved to the bed, taking a long moment to feather one hand over Quinn's broad chest. He settled between Quinn's legs, leaning close to whisper, "Good. I want to see your eyes when I claim you." His words provoked the reaction he wanted, angry fire sparking to life in Quinn's blue eyes before being rapidly banked.

Placing the bottle of oil on the sheets, Ben leaned forward to capture Quinn's lips in a kiss. Better to be hanged as a sheep than a lamb, he decided, intending to take full advantage of this rare opportunity. Their tongues met aggressively, both seeking to be the winner in this duel. His hands explored, finding no soft, squishy curves, but satiny skin and solid, heavy muscle. He caressed the wide shoulders and the powerful chest that tapered to slim hips, the sensitive tips of his fingers tingling with delight.

Freeing his mouth, he kissed his way down Quinn's Adam's apple, the hollow of his throat, along to a flat brown nipple. Latching his teeth onto the hard point brought the reward of a deep groan. He sucked it greedily before releasing it unexpectedly and dove for Quinn's navel. Tense abdomen muscles quivered and rippled as Ben burrowed his tongue into the slight indentation.

Ben spent little time on Quinn's cock, merely giving the stiff length a swift kiss on the tip and taking it once into his mouth for a cherishing taste before releasing it. That experience had been done already and undoubtedly would happen again, but for now it was sufficient that Quinn was completely aroused. Sitting back on his heels, he unstoppered the bottle, fully coating his own cock with the lubricating oil. Their eyes met again, Quinn's seeming to acknowledge Ben's success in exciting him but not yielding an inch in this struggle of wills.

Daring to command, Ben said, "Pull your knees to your chest." Quinn complied, opening himself wide for Ben's invasive fingers, placing his legs on Ben's shoulders. Trying not to be awkward, Ben breeched the puckered opening with one oiled finger. He searched for the magical spot he'd never known even existed until Quinn found it within himself and introduced him to blissful paradise. Quinn's needy moan indicated his success and resonated in his own cock and balls.

The preparation was speedy, Ben realizing he was too close to losing his own control to risk further delay. His eyes fluttered shut as he thrust into Quinn's body and felt the unbelievably tight pressure on his cock. "You are... " Wondering if words were proper, he stopped himself, then remembered Quinn's reaction to his own words of praise and encouragement. Ben's entreaties had seemed to enflame Quinn, turning him into a virile lord of the sea. "You are so tight," he said. "So tight and hot. I can't believe anything could feel this good." He rocked back and forth, slowly sinking deeper and deeper in rhythm with the boat as it rode the ocean waves.

"I should be tight," Quinn said, his voice ragged rather than sardonic. "Do you think I've let anyone else do this?"

Ben's eyes snapped open in shock. "Your first...?"

"My first...in this position," Quinn acknowledged before attempting to wrest control from Ben. His hands clasped Ben's chest while clenching the muscles of his calves, trying to force Ben to his own pace.

"Oh no you don't," Ben swore, his hands pressing down on Quinn's chest, fighting against the strength of those long legs, using the better leverage of his position to its utmost. He maintained a steady rhythm, thrusting hard and deep, slowly pulling his cock free of that warm channel before sliding back in, burying himself completely to the root.

Acceding control, Quinn released Ben, his powerful hands reaching back to grab the headboard. Looking at the clenched muscles of his grip, Ben feared he would break the wood. Then damage to the furniture was no longer a consideration as riptides of pleasure began to swirl through his mind. Without care, Ben drove himself faster and harder into Quinn's willing body, one hand roughly pumping Quinn's cock. If the force of his lunges could have been transmuted into spiritual terms, their souls would have entwined for eternity, so great was his need to combine their bodies.

They reached paradise together, open mouths meeting in a frenzied kiss, cries of ecstasy pouring forth. Ben collapsed on Quinn and the pirate tenderly cuddled him, rearranging their bodies to spoon together.

For a long time, they rested; Quinn's mouth occasionally kissing the back of Ben's head, Ben bringing Quinn's hands to his lips to nuzzle. Quinn shifted eventually to blow out the lamp, immediately returning to their comfortable position.

"So tomorrow we begin our lives as privateers," Quinn said finally, breaking the silence.

"Yes. Much will be the same, only we will bypass English ships. And if we encounter pirate ships captained by Englishmen, I wish to recruit them to service of their country."

"You may not have the same success with the others as you did with me."

Ben made a sleepy noise of agreement. "You are the most logical and rational of the pirates," he teased before rolling over to face Quinn. "You have the good sense to... " Ben broke off abruptly, not sure how to phrase his thought.

Divining the direction of Ben's thinking from the shadows in his eyes, Quinn said, "To be attracted to you? You are the most handsome and intelligent member of the English navy."

The shadows in those expressive eyes cleared as Ben smiled. "I shall take that as a compliment, though perhaps a meager one since you consider them stolid, unimaginative clods."

Quinn also smiled, sharing Ben's delight in the unique chance to tease and flatter, before turning serious. "Many pirates are not English, though, and apt to take offense at our changed status. You must be prepared for battle."

The warning was accepted with a single nod. "I have heard that the Greek is actually English. He seems a likely candidate for conversion."

"The Greek?"

"Xanatos."

"Xanatos. Ah. Yes, Xanatos. I haven't met him. But let us not plan strategy tonight. Tonight...tonight is for us." Rising over Ben, he settled between his legs, kissing his lips softly. Quinn gazed at Ben's face, languorous and relaxed in the aftermath of their passion, his eyes beginning to shine with his renewed arousal. He wished fiercely that they could capture this moment in time forever.

Tilting his hips and tangling his legs around Quinn's lean hips and seeming to sense his unspoken yearning, Ben agreed. "For us."

**********

Waking in the night, Ben couldn't decide what had disturbed him. They had changed position again while sleeping. Quinn was on his back, Ben curled into his large body, his head resting on Quinn's chest. Rising up with one elbow on the pillow, Ben tenderly traced Quinn's face. His hairline, the arch of his eyebrows, the crooked nose, the neat mustache and beard. He leaned close to whisper a promise into Quinn's ear. "I'm going to drag you back into the light."

~ the end ~