Above: Erin
*
Both Harry and Liam were shoved onto wooden chairs in the dining room, looking as if they were being cornered for interrogation with the number of men that stood around them.
They slumped against one another, steaming off the smell of alcohol so much that Louis wanted to throw up. He was tired, worn out from the whole situation and the restless nights he'd had; and all he wanted to do was to wash Harry clean and get them both to bed. But, to go against every wish he had, he was forced to weedle some vital information out of a long-term drunk and a Dutch gypsy who'd forget how to speak english when alcohol hit him.
Louis eyed both men on the dusty chairs in front of him, gaze switching between both of them as if he were a mother testing which one of her children was in the most trouble. Harry was, in this time, a rather sloppy drunk, and had Louis not have vowed to love him eternally then he might have just left him down in the wine cellar. Harry's coat had been removed and he now wore his white shirt half unbuttoned with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows-something which Louis had always found most attractive on men. Harry also had a little more than a reasonable amount of stubble from that point, dark shadows under his eyes from the salty air and lack of sleep, and he was so dirty that Louis didn't really want to touch him; but other than that, he was looking quite alright, viewing the circumstances.
Liam was in a similar situation, except that above all of these things, he was drenched in water and leaving a rather large puddle to gather on the floor. Honestly, Louis thought, Harry was the bigger disgrace as Liam had always been a scruffy bastard since his alcoholic tendencies had begun, but Harry on the other hand was not a drunk and to see him in this state made Louis rather embarrassed.
"Right." He said, processing the situation. He moved a hand around himself for his comrades and the pirates to give him space, and said, 'Right' once more, more confidently.
Harry looked back and Louis could just tell that he was about to say something stupid by the slow smile that formed on his face and light that caught in his eyes.
"Are you a pirate? Because I'll be stealing your booty."
Louis blushed a deep shade of pink and stared at Harry. He hoped no one was listening but the room went silent until Hanji snorted, causing Niall and Liam to laugh, as well. Roxanne smirked, and the twins whispered to each other. Zayn and Blackbeard stayed silent but they were clearly amused. Rory was not in the room, and Louis could not care less.
Harry looked up proudly, clearly not assessing any part of the situation, and smiled. It was a pleasant smile that he gave Louis, one that a child would give after being praised by their parents. He looked quite beautiful, Louis thought, quite beautiful indeed.
"Yes, well, er-" Louis said, flustered to the point of wanting to bury his own grave. He turned away from Harry and glowered at Liam, praying that his lover would stay silent. "Liam, where-is-Erin?" He asked, pressing on each word slowly as if he were talking to a complete idiot rather than just a partial one.
"I'd line my boat in your dock anyday." Harry interrupted. He stomach rumbled from hunger and he added, "Oh Captain, toss your jewels my way." as he licked his lips.
Louis was sure he could feel the vein pulse in his forehead as he listened to Harry's inappropriate remarks. He turned an even deeper pink but this time it was out of anger. "Harry." He snapped. He turned away from Liam to grasp the back of the chair Harry was sitting on. He could've kissed him, but did not want to. Instead, he slapped Harry across the cheek. "Shut up." He said, almost viciously. "Later." he said quietly when he saw Harry's hurt expression.
The man had meant no harm after all, and Louis, even though he would not admit it, was so truly in love with him that seeing this face almost made him embrace Harry, despite his alcoholic and sea-riddled odor.
But still, Louis turned back to Liam. "Erin." He reminded, "Where is he?"
Liam seemed to look dazed by this, as if he did not know who Louis was talking about, and was not making any sort of effort to remember. Louis was quickly losing his patience, and Zayn believed that he would beat the daylights out of both Harry and Liam if they continued to be so dimwitted. "A little blond boy with long hair?" Louis described, restraining every ounce of frustration and anger from gushing out of him. Liam looked back, looking as brainless as ever. "Erin, a little blond kid! You've both been living with him for a decade, what more do you bloody want, you bloody losers?!"
Harry leant close to Liam and it was clear that he assumed he was whispering when he said, "Erin, she's the pretty little meisje!"
The last word was one that Louis was sure Liam did not understand but the bleak comment had seemed to enlighten him, anyhow. His face lit up and he let out an unnaturally long 'aah', before pointing to the door. "Erin! Why didn't you say so?" And had he not have continued that comment, Louis would have punched him to death, "She's lying on a rather comfortable black and white sofa! She was tired, that she was, I put her right to bed! The poor girl, she'd had a shock when the shark almost bit her arm off."
Louis' eyes widened and he let a deep sigh of relief leave his lips. "Captain," He said, standing up from the chair and turning to Blackbeard, "Take me to your sofa."
He stood up, expectantly, but only received a rather confused look in return. "What?" He asked.
"I do not own a black and white sofa." Blackbeard said, and Louis looked back at Liam.
Liam took a moment to understand the message but eventually got up. "Alrigh'." He said, pointing ahead of him, making the whole mess of a situation into his own personal expedition to find Erin. "Don't worry, lads. I know this castle like the back of my hand, that I do; I'll take you to this Erin of yours."
With that, he put his best foot forward, perhaps a little too forward and almost fell into the splits, but pulled himself up and marched out of the door. Louis watched everyone start to follow but put his hand out. "Oi." He said, sternly. "The lot of you, get to bed. Blackbeard, you come with me. Zayn, take Harry to my room, and please wash him before you let him touch the bed-sheets, will you?"
He received low mumbles and grumbles in response but everyone left, trusting that the Captains would take care of everything.
And so, they went to their rooms, and Louis followed Liam around the ship, swearing he'd passed this chipped door before, but eventually making it to a room with a name on it. It read, "Gretel."
"Ah, yes." Liam said, confidently. "Ernest is in here."
Blackbeard opened his mouth to make a comment but Liam swung the door open.
And there Erin was, fast asleep, on a cow.
"What the-" Louis said, stepping into the barn-like room.
"Aye, I suppose that this is what he meant when he said a black and white sofa, huh?" Blackbeard said, looking at the sleeping cow on the floor. She seemed to have tended to Erin and was looking after him, in some absurd sense, so that Erin was curled up peacefully in the space between her front and hind legs.
"-You have a cow?" Louis asked, pointing to the animal in pure disbelief. The cow flicked her ears but did not raise her head.
"Aye. Where do ye think the milk comes from?"
Louis opened his mouth to reply, but he quickly gave up. He shook his head. "Just-" He waved his hand vaguely at both of his comrades. The past Louis, the young steamer, would have ended that sentence by saying something along the lines of : "-sort them out. I'm going to bed. I'll be up at six." But that was not who he was any longer.
Louis would not make reckless decisions, would not trust anyone, even if he was about to faint from fatigue.
"Bring Niall to me. He shall stay here with them, tonight."
*
Louis opened the door to his room-the one he'd locked himself in while Harry had been in the wine cellar-and was immediately showered in an aroma of the most luxurious exotic flowers from the Caramoan Islands. He breathed in heavily. Of course, Zayn had been the one to take care of Harry, and despite never washing, Zayn could clean up a mess like nobody's business.
"Finally." Louis sighed peacefully.
He looked around the room. On the walls were old paintings of famous pirates and mythical sea creatures, shelves aligned with nautical themed knick-knacks that Louis was tempted to steal, and a porthole was open opposite him. The storm was calming down out there, and Louis was sure that they'd all wake up to a sunny day. To his right was a large cupboard with mostly dust and cobwebs in, and beside it, closest to the window, was a door that lead to the bathroom. There was little furniture in the room he was in, but the two bedside tables and four-poster bed were of the finest quality, so Louis assumed that this was a room where the Captain's mate would sleep.
He sighed again, cracked his spine, and walked up to the bed. Harry was there, resting on the covers and wearing nothing. "What a mess you are." Louis said, although he knew that Harry could not hear him. "But at least you're somewhat respectable now."
He pulled his own coat off, followed by his shirt and his trousers until he was in his under garments. He threw them on the floor and went to have a shower with the fresh water that he'd previously seen on the shelves in the bathroom.
When he returned, he saw that Harry had made his way under the blanket, and was sleeping profoundly. Louis walked up to him, tying a cotton bandage around his eye like every night, and observed his lover.
They were married. Married. Louis felt great pride with this, knowing that Harry-the Gypsy-boy and famous inventor-was his for the keeping. "Mine." He said, letting his hands fall by his sides.
Harry opened one eye, dark iris dilating to its fullest, looked up, and said, "Yours." He closed his eye again and mumbled "Ik hou van jou."
Louis smiled, knelt down by the side of the bed where he rested his arms on the mattress and said, "I love you too, Gypsy-boy." He tugged on one of Harry's ringlets of hair. "It might not be apparent but, er-I'm proud of you."
Louis felt rather embarrassed by what he had just said, and so he stood up, turning away.
"Louis." Harry said, showing that he had sobered enough to at least recognise Louis as Louis. He put an arm out and scooped his lover up by the waist. Louis almost lost his balance as walking backwards was no longer one of his fortés, but Harry had already taken him onto the mattress.
And God, Harry was warm. He burned hot like a fireplace under those blankets, and all Louis wanted was to be set alight. He turned around on himself so he was facing Harry. The man still smelt of rum, but it could not be helped. At least he was clean and his beard was trimmed. His long hair was wet and had dampened the pillow, but Louis did not care. In fact, the coldness of his hair made the heat of Harry's cheeks even hotter, and that was quite alright.
"Ik wil voor altijd van je houden." Harry said, half asleep, half drunk.
"You want to love me for that long, huh?" Louis repeated, "Forever is a long time, my love." He brushed his hand over Harry's hair and tucked it behind his ear. "You still have your earring in." he muttered to himself, taking Harry's cross earring out of his ear and placing it on the table behind him.
"-t's not long enough." Harry said, speaking into the pillow. "I want to love you for longer than that, and I want you to be married to me-even more than you already are."
Louis shivered as a breeze came in through the window and hit him right in the back. "Do you love me that much?" He asked softly, stroking Harry's hair while he fell further in love.
It was clear- by the way that Harry nodded repeatedly and by the colour of roses that hit Louis' cheeks-how words could not describe how much these two men treasured each other, and even though Harry was trying, he could never have found the right sentence to make Louis understand the millions of butterflies in his stomach, the squeezing feeling of his own heart in his chest, and the endless stars that shone in his eyes. All that either of them wanted was each other. They wanted to be together when the oceans split apart, when the clouds fall, and when Hell tears them to shreds. They wanted each other more than anything else in the world, but they both knew, deep down, that they would end up alone someday.
Louis shivered again and sat up, sighing. Harry remained lying lazily on the bed for a moment until he also forced himself to sit. He watched Louis on the bed beside him, his world still spinning but at least he could understand it now. Louis, like every night, was unbuckling his prosthetic leg. Harry did not remove his hand, but then he wasn't the one to continuously hit his sleeping partner with it during the night. Louis clasped the two hooks on the sides and a small puff of steam left the prosthetic as he pulled it away. He quickly pulled his undergarments over his knee, glanced at Harry who turned his eyes down understandingly, and went back to his prosthetic.
"It's not going to last long." Louis said, holding it up so he could look through the large crack running down the centre of the peg. "The frame's alright but we need to replace the wood, urgently."
Harry put a hand out, and Louis passed the prosthetic to him. Harry had been the one to make it, and so he was self-assigned with the task of reparation. He looked at the wooden peg, traced his fingers over it, before nodding slowly. "I'll do it first thing tomorrow." He said.
"You'll be throwing up all day, and it won't be sea-sickness." Louis said, rather accusingly.
Harry smiled slightly but shrugged. He leant over the bed to put the wooden frame down and Louis' eyes immediately diverted to the two dimples at the bottom of Harry's back. He moved over the bed, and when Harry returned to his sitting position, Louis hooked his remainders-of-a-leg over his lap.
"Cold." He said when a heavy gust of wind blew over his white-tipped hair. He wriggled, pulled the blankets back and got underneath them, still straddling his lover's thighs. He pulled the moth-nibbled blankets up to his shoulders and hugged himself in them. Harry smiled at him and moved his hands up Louis' body, tracing the curves of Louis' cracked waist with one hand and the lines of his battered face with the other. He gave Louis a gaze that was soft, loving, but most definitely starving for a man like the one leaning over him.
Louis leant in and kissed Harry's nose, leaving his lips to rest on the warmth for a second, before he moved down to Harry's mouth. He kissed Harry lightly, "You taste of rum." He said, sounding more displeased than anything else. However, he was quick to drink in the taste again, and moved back before Harry could reply.
Harry's hand was on the back of his neck, while the other one rested on his waist, cold and metallic. It moved slowly, discreetly, and undid the buttons of Louis' undergarments without him noticing.
It was only when Harry put his hand on his Captain's jewels that Louis noticed what he'd been doing. Louis let out a whimpering yelp and jerked his body forward in surprise. Harry laughed and pulled Louis down. He kissed his lips to remind Louis that it was Harry there, no one else. Harry then moved down to his neck, leaving a mark that'd be there for days, while his hand of copper did its work down below. He touched Louis, unable to feel his length getting harder, but perfectly aware of the fact that it was.
After a moment, he stopped moving his hand up and down to keep it steady, fingers pressed to his thumb in an 'o' shape. Louis rocked his hips back and forth. The young Captain pushed through Harry's cold fingers, feeling his skin be pulled back every time, but he loved how it felt. He whimpered, whined, and Harry groaned into his neck. He was getting harder, as well, and it was happening fast. Louis' hands let go of the blanket around his shoulders and moved them to the empty spaces of mattress by Harry's sides. He moved his hips back and forth, leaning his forehead on Harry's shoulder. Harry was hard; hard and clearly feeling the lack of touches. Louis moved his hand down to touch it but Harry slapped him away.
"I'll do it." He said. He pushed Louis body forward over his thighs until their erections were pressed together, leaking and ready to be given explicit attention. Louis wrapped his arms around Harry's neck and Harry held him by the waist with one hand while the copper one took them both. He moved it up and down, rubbing their sizes together, and they both moaned-or at least, Harry did. Louis was more of a whiner in bed, but Harry was not, in any way, objected.
Louis breathed in the scent of exotic flowers, but there was the fainter scent of Harry behind it. He moved closer to Harry in attempt to fill his mind with his lover alone, and the closer he got to Harry's body, the more sensations he felt.
Louis flicked his hips, feeling Harry grind beneath him, see him rub himself to a state of full arousal, and Louis wanted nothing else but to take Harry in.
He wanted to breathe in Harry's scent, musk and cinnamon, taste his lips and skin; he wanted to drink in Harry's features, his eyes, his hair, the harsh lines of his masculine figure. It was clear that Harry was not like Louis in any way, his body sharp and lean whilst Louis' was smaller and curved, but they were a perfect fit anyhow.
Louis wanted Harry inside of him, the longer he looked at Harry's leaking erection, the more empty he felt. But they had nothing to prepare them as Harry's coat with the oil in was in the kitchens. Louis whined through both frustration and pleasure. His hips moved back and forth, Harry rocked the same way, and the copper hand did its magic.
"Bitte fick mich-" Louis said, his own language pouring heartfully out of him as if he couldn't help it, even if he tried.
Harry moaned, somehow turned on by Louis' words, understanding the demand that said nothing but 'Fuck me'.
"Turn around. Sit on me." Harry said. Louis nodded, and obediently turned. He sat down on the lowest part of Harry's stomach, leaning back into his lover's arms. Harry kissed his neck and brought Louis' legs up. He brushed Louis' lips with his finger and slowly inserted it into Louis' mouth. Louis licked it, preparing it and knowing what Harry's intentions were. The taste of copper filled his mouth as Harry put in another finger.
"Good boy." The Gypsy groaned, "You always were my good boy."
Louis put his hands behind him and found Harry's head. Harry stroked his body, played with his nipples, and moved his hand between Louis' legs.
Louis moaned when those fingers touched him, started to move in; and he was torn between moving towards them or flicking his hips as his natural instinct demanded. Harry pushed his finger in, slowly as saliva was their only solution for a pain-killer, and then moved. It did not take long to make Louis feel at ease, and Harry's fingers were quickly replaced by his throbbing erection that had been neglected from play.
Louis jolted up and down and Harry pushed into him. Louis' scarred neck tilted at an angle as his lover made use of the bare skin there to mark his territory.
The way that they looked at each other that night-feisty and honest-you could hear their love, feel it, taste it like the winds of the sea. There was definitely something in Harry's eyes back then, a glimmer of something so deep that-even if his whole world would have ended right then and there-he would still have only called out for Louis.
*
What did you think about that chapter?
I hope you're enjoying the story ;) There is art for this story available on my instagram: LHNameless. There is also Harry Potter and Voltron art up there, too.