The year is 1872, the Rogues of London move away from their hometown and out to sea in search of new adventure. However, oceans bite back, pirates are waiting, and stranger love is to be found out there.
Larry Stylinson, including all of One Direct...
And that is how we ended up in the middle of the ocean.. Drenched in salt water and starving to death.
No one had told us that there is something worse than the worst conditions. No one warned us that living through cold winters outside, risking your life just to get food, and selling your body for the sake of others aren't the worst things that could happen to a group of outcasts. By far, the conditions of survival we're in now are worse than all of those things combined.
It's been around two weeks since we've left, but I'll admit, I have lost track of time. In those two weeks however, we have only had fish to eat, and the ones we'd managed to catch were eaten raw. I'm surprised that we've survived this long; feeding off of the few rations we'd brought along, drinking the few bottles of fresh water we have left, and not being able to wash in anything but salt water and rain. We've been through storms, all of them calm, but we all have this feeling that the place in the middle of the ocean where we are-that place is too quiet.
And I'll tell you now, quiet weather always leads to a storm, and sometimes that storm isn't caused by the weather.
My name is Louis, I am an outcast, and I drove us all to annihilation.
*
Blazing light, the sound of seagulls screeching, the smell of salted air, the feeling of a hand down my trousers.
Louis eyes snapped open as he sprang up. The light blinded him for a second, that immense glare slicing through his eye like a painless object that still found its way to hurt. He blinked, and he saw Harry.
"Wh-huh?" He said, scrambling back. He shuffled backwards on the boards until his back hit the base of the boat's helm. "What are you doing?" He asked, his voice shocked but sounding more aroused than he had expected. He looked at Harry with wide eyes, watching the surprised expression and the hand that hadn't moved back from the place where it had been. It waited in a groping motion, covered in a glistening white film that Louis identified straight away. He looked down at himself and saw the same white strings overlap his trousers.
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Louis' stare wandered back up to the hand that assured the act it had made by remaining in the air, then he looked up to the man that it belonged to. Harry's face had become less expressive, his surprised eyes had slit down to a glare, and his stance leant towards Louis, showing a hunger that no one had ever seen from him.
He looked starving, and not in the sense that he was lacking a good meal like those he'd been treated to a few weeks back. No, Louis could clearly see the lustful glower that came behind those green eyes, the desire that this man had to devour him whole, and Louis certainly understood by the strings of white in Harry's palm that he'd responded to the request as if he were just a prey giving up the fight.
The Gypsy didn't speak as he crept closer, soundless over the floorboards except for the copper hand that tapped the surface rhythmically. He looked like a lion hunting a gazelle, and in his eyes, that's all Louis was-a young gazelle with thighs that begged to be bitten into, with a grace that begged for a chase, and with a look of both innocence and fear on his face.
