Sodalite and Aventurine (Larry Stylinson au)

CHAPTER III

SAPPHIRE

Louis finally woke to the sound of footsteps. They were upstairs, in the navigation room.

And that meant he had slept in.

Despite that, his sleep had been terrible. Because, preposterously, Harry had taken up his bed and Louis, in his need to not have him attempt to kill him or mount him in the night, had slept at his desk. He hadn't wanted to be the first to fall asleep so he made himself look busy with books and his logs, but it had seemed Harry hadn't wanted to sleep first either because he kept pestering Louis with questions. Questions that Louis refused to answer without a shot of rum.

It was a blessing in disguise to produce that bottle of rum Louis kept in his desk, because when Harry saw Louis take a sip when he asked about how long he'd been looking for Swan's maps, he asked to have a sip to. This made it easy for Harry to be pulled into sleep. And it made Louis' hard, leather bound chair, just about comfortable enough to sleep in. It made it just a little more bearable to crook his neck down onto the backs of his arms.

However, Louis' rum-laced sleep did not come without a few lulling moments where he mistook Harry's rhythmic breathing for something of a siren song. It made his sleep heavy, dark, like a storm was brewing. Like he was on the very bottom of the ocean floor, where not even the pink rays of morning sun could easily wake him.

The footsteps upstairs were Niall's, his wooden leg clicking every time he took a step, and that meant he was already performing his duties. He was probably discussing wind directions this time of year with Liam and how to get to Senegal fastest, or talking with Tavis about ships they'd likely encounter on the way.

Louis wasn't worried about sleeping late though, it was something his crew expected. It was often that he stayed up until the moon was high and then slept until the sun was too.

Though usually it was because he felt most at ease in the comfort of night, and not because he was trying to avoid a hostage hooked to his bed.

Louis groggily sat up from where his cheek had been pressed to his desk and peeled a loose leaf of paper from his face. As he wiped his eyes, the ocean slowly came into focus through his window. It was fluffy and white, a long trail where the ship had split through gentle waves.

"You didn't join me," came a voice from behind him. It was, of course, Harry. Louis spun around to find him leaning up against the bedpost, sitting on his knees, with his eyes intently on him.

"I don't share beds with strangers," Louis replied. His voice was still weighted with sleep.

"Well can I share something with you?" Harry asked, face open and relaxed.

Louis waited for whatever Harry was about to spout out as he stood and pulled on his jacket. It was too hot for it, but it gave him something to do.

Harry watched him quietly, eyes catching on the sleeves that Louis tugged on, with a faintly interested look. Eventually, he looked back up to Louis' face and smiled. "You have ink on your cheek."

Louis paused and looked at Harry, and then instinctively drew a hand to his right cheek.

"The other side," Harry added, smile growing as Louis started rubbing at his left cheek.

And then he slightly nodded upwards and said, "No, higher. No, almost. Almost."

Louis sighed and strode over to him. "You just bloody get it."

He bent his face down so Harry could lick his thumb and rub it against Louis' cheek. And neither seemed to think much of it, of the familial space between them, because Louis had already fed Harry, had tended to his wounds. He'd already dressed and undressed him.

"How are your wrists?" Louis asked as Harry's lips tersed in his effort to remove the ink.

Harry's eyes flicked up to Louis' as he softly answered, "Tender."

Then he looked back to the mark on Louis' cheeks and let his smile grow. Offhandedly, he added, "Though these restraints are alright, I'd fair better with them off."

"I'd sooner be keelhauled than let that happen," Louis grinned.

"It was worth a try," Harry shrugged before he took away his hand and looked back up to Louis' eyes. "Done. Gorgeous."

"Thank you," Louis replied as he stood back up and started making his way to the door. "Now be quiet. I'll bring you breakfast when I return, I trust you'll still be tied up then."

"I'll promise no such thing," Harry said with an innocent smile. "But I do promise to be waiting for you in bed."

"You're terrible," Louis said flatly, though there was an inkling of an amused smile on the corner of his lips.

As Louis swung the door open and left, Harry murmured, "And you are not."

Louis paused on the other side of the door, hand resting against the carved wood. His head resting against his hand. To an outsider, it would have looked as though he were ruminating on what Harry had just uttered, sitting on the four words he had spilled at Louis' heels. But Louis wasn't. He hadn't even heard him. Rather, his eyes were cast on the key in his other hand. It was still in the keyhole of the door, the other keys jangled on the ring he kept them on.

He was trying to remember if he'd left the door unlocked the night before.

Louis returned to his quarters an hour later.

It felt too soon and yet far too late.

He wanted to busy himself on deck, so that his crew would see his expression was still his own, that he was unaffected and unlying and that everything was still as per usual. But they were all used to a captain that retreated to his room to read when it was quiet. And outside, it was quiet.

The ocean had been clear all night, no ships had caught their tail as they sailed through the Carribean islands, so Niall had taken to preoccupying himself with one hand on the ship's wheel and one around the spine of a book. Liam was below deck, out of the sun, telling stories to Ernest and the rest of the young powder monkeys. They were gathered around him, listening to him spin tales of mermaids and selkies, eyes as wide as the apples in their mouths.

And so Louis had wandered around his ship aimlessly, looking for someone to bother that wasn't tall and curly haired. He listened to one of Liam's stories and then spent a long while at his perch against the rail of the quarter deck. It gave him time to mull over his thoughts as he watched ocean water wash past and the blinding glimmer of fresh sunlight through the sails.

He didn't want to give Harry the satisfaction of thinking he was in a rush to get back to him, but he didn't want to arouse suspicion from his shipmates.

Niall had already been peering at him over his book.

"You can take over steering if you're so keen to spend the day up here," he commented humorously when Louis hadn't moved in twenty minutes.

Louis flinched at his words, all too aware that he wasn't free to do as he wanted while he had Harry tied up in his room. Funny that, that Louis should be the one to feel as though his hands were tied.

He came to the conclusion that it would be best to go back to his room.

First though, he made a stop to the galley. Because although Harry was a very pretty thorn in his side, he wasn't about to make him starve more than necessary. He told Edmund, their cook, that he wanted to take some food to his room because he'd be skipping breakfast for the next few days.

"Is it a good book, then?" Edmund asked with an almost-toothless smile.

"Hm?" Louis hummed, head whipping up from where he'd been plucking himself some salted meats and fruit from storage.

"A good book? You always skip breakfast when you've got your head stuck in one."

"Oh," Louis breathed, slapping a smile on his face as he scooped up as many sugar canes as he could muster, tossing them into a cloth sack. "Yeah. It's, uh, about Shakespeare."

"You're very lucky to be able to read, Cap. Might have to ask you to finally teach me when you get the chance, they must be worth something to keep so much of your attention."

Louis was already halfway out the door when he called over his shoulder, "I'd be happy to pass on the favour!"

When Louis burst through the door to his quarters he was almost breathless, as though he had run there. He hadn't, but his heart was a flutter because in his brisk walk, he had tried to look as busy as possible so he wouldn't have to stop for anyone else to comment on his foraging of extra food. It had left him nervy.

Harry looked over at him curiously. He was lying on his back on Louis' bed, hands on the quilt above his head.

"Did something happen?" he asked.

"What?" Louis breathed, pushing his fringe out of his face as he collected himself and realised what it was that Harry was asking. "Oh, uh, no. Nothing."

"Doesn't look like nothing, you look flustered."

"I'm not," Louis replied, turning to lock the door behind him. "I was just avoiding suspicion."

"Aren't you good at that sort of thing?"

"Not when I have someone like you on my bed."

"Oh," Harry smirked. " Someone like me , you say?"

"That's not what I meant-" Louis started, but it was exactly what he meant. Whether he liked it or not, the discovery of Harry Styles on his bed would look exactly as Louis feared. Even his straight crew members would tell that Harry was a looker, and they'd assume. And they'd have Louis' guts before he could protest.

He settled on berating Harry's beauty with a smirk instead, "Do you really think you're so worthy of my affection? You're always so sure I'm bedazzled by you."

"Are you not? As I recall, you've fed me and given me a bed and all I've done is been shirtless and tied up."

"All you've done, Styles, is give me something of interest to prod at on our trip. When we're not fighting or stealing, it is quite a boring thing, all this travelling."

"And where is it that we're travelling to, Louis?" Harry asked, starting to sit up.

"Se-" Louis started instinctually, before he caught himself. "Why do you want to know?"

"So I know how long it is before I'm unleashed, how far it is to one of Swan's maps. And what's that 'Se'? Are we going to the Seychelles? Serbia? Senegal?"

"Guess," Louis teased.

"Well Serbia's landlocked, so it's Senegal or the Seychelles for me. Senegal is closer."

Louis said nothing.

Harry got this terrible, self-congratulatory grin on his face.

"So what's that? A fortnight before I'm free? Before we're rich!"

"What makes you think you'll be rich or free in Senegal?" Louis replied incredulously.

Harry thought to himself and scrunched up his mouth.

"I think you'll come to let me free by then."

"You sound so sure," Louis replied, determined to take the conversation back into his control. He went over to Harry and tossed a parcel of salted beef and an apple into his lap. "What if I were to grow tired of you before then? What if I simply decided your pretty face bored me and I threw you overboard?"

"You think I'm pretty?" Harry asked, picking up the apple.

"So you keep telling me."

"Do I? I don't remember saying that," Harry pondered mischievously. Then he took a bite out of the apple. Juice dripped down his thumb, to his wrist. Harry sucked the tip of his thumb and watched Louis as he did it.

"Whatever it is you think you're doing to me," Louis breathed lowly, lying, "it's not working."

Harry grinned up at him.

Louis wanted to kiss Harry's dimples as much as he wanted to smack them.

Louis was not going to leave his room. He was not .

No matter how much Harry seemed to get satisfaction out of the fact that he stayed, he was not going to leave and try his luck at normalcy in front of his crew. Because Louis was good at acting when it came to people he didn't mind pissing off, like loathsome dockmasters or tavern owners. There were no stakes there, he could have fun with it, act innocent. Act a different person. It was an entirely different game when it came to trying to act like himself . If Niall or Edmund's comments were anything to go by, the whole ship would be whispering if he went back out there for too long.

So Louis spent the late morning at his desk and it just about made his neck crook after having spent the night there already, but it meant he could attempt to read and look busy without Harry being able to say it was him that Louis was focused on.

And yet, it was only Harry that he could think about.

As Louis tried to read a passage in his book about Shakespeare's collection of sonnets, his mind was too distracted to take anything in. At first he'd been distracted by Harry's crunching and the thought of his tongue on his thumb. Then he'd been distracted by the long silence that they fell into, because he could hear every time Harry shifted. And he could feel the pull to turn to see if Harry's eyes were on him.

And now, he was distracted because Harry had finally found it in himself to spark up another conversation.

"Louis?"

Louis lifted his head at the sound and slowly turned his ear towards Harry, trying not to take his eyes away from his book.

"What is it you're reading?"

Louis rubbed the corner of the page he was on, trying to pull the words into focus. The paper was soft, worn by hands that had come before his. "It's about Shakespeare, stuff about his sonnets."

"Shakespeare's sonnets?" Harry asked lightly. He sounded interested.

Louis hummed. And he kept his eyes on the book. There was a dark mark at the top of the page, like a mite had been squashed there.

Harry was quiet for a moment. He shifted on the bed, there was a quiet creak as the belt around the bedpost pulled. Louis could already feel his grin before he finally spoke.

"Read me one."

Louis finally turned his head. He couldn't help it, because Harry was clearly about to play a joke on him or something. He looked at Harry over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. "Why?"

Harry, who was sat on the very edge of the bed with his ankles tucked together, simply lifted his chin but softened his smirk. He looked like he was beckoning, wanting Louis to walk over and place his feet either side of Harry's and tuck a finger under his jaw. He blinked once and said, "Sonnet number 18, is it in there?"

"18?"

Harry nodded, slowly and assured.

"And what treats am I in for if I am to read it aloud?" Louis asked, hesitant to give Harry more rope to choke him with.

"No treats," Harry said evenly. "I just like that one."

Louis turned back to his book and began flipping pages without thinking. There were snippets of sonnets dotted between paragraphs and Louis wasn't even sure at first if he'd find it, but there, on page 48, was the text he was looking for.

He began reading, trying to keep his voice as open and clear as possible. The words were flowery and didn't quite reveal any meaning at first.

"Shall I compare thee to a summer's day? Thou art more lovely and more temperate. Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May-"

Louis paused. He was caught off guard.

Because Harry had started reciting it alongside him. Their voices melded together as they hit the same syllables.

Harry didn't pause with him though.

"And summer's lease hath all too short a date," Harry said easily, as though these words were something as known to him as breathing. "Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines, and often is his gold complexion dimmed."

Louis slowly turned to watch Harry as he continued. "And every fair from fair sometime declines, by chance, or nature's changing course, untrimmed."

Harry finally took a breath. He was looking right at Louis.

And he was smiling.

Softly.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Harry eventually said, eyes secure, unmoving. Like a mast in a storm. "I can keep going if you like."

Louis didn't reply, though he did lower his book to the desk and lay an arm over the back of his chair so he could rest his chin on it.

So Harry kept going. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the bedpost as he finished the poem, and when he did and silence filled the room, Louis realised that he'd not heard a single thing he'd said. He'd been too busy laying in the gravel of Harry's voice, too busy laying his ear on the warm stones of every word.

"What's it mean?" Louis eventually asked as the silence between them quietened.

Harry opened his eyes, blinking at Louis easily. The corner of his mouth slowly lifted into a small smile. "Shakespeare is comparing his lover, his fair youth , to a summer's day; but unlike a summer's day, the things that make him wonderful aren't fleeting. He'll live forever in his poetry." Harry looked out the window behind Louis. "Wouldn't that be nice, to have a love that could live forever?"

"I... suppose," Louis tentatively replied as he watched him curiously.

Harry paid him no mind. He simply twisted his lips and played with the belt around the pole as he said, "The man he calls his fair youth betrays him in the end."

"How so?"

Harry glanced back at him. "Read the rest of it and find out."

They fell into another silence as Louis turned back to his book and tried to read the pages and pages of poems, trying to understand what Harry was referring to. He tried to take in the plot and the metaphors and everything that Shakespere had intended. But still. He couldn't. Instead, he was too focused on the words that weren't there - the ones that Harry would have sketched in the margins of his own copy of such a book. He seemed like the type.

"How is it?" Harry asked after what had felt like an hour. Louis couldn't be sure. Time was slippery when Louis felt watched.

And Harry had been watching him this entire time.

Unlike their silence before, this one was intended. Purposeful. It was Harry with his big green eyes staring right into Louis' back, right into the fingers pressed to the leather of the book's cover. It was the way he bit his lip as though he could peer close enough to see that Louis wasn't reading at all.

Louis knew this because he would glance over occasionally, completely unable to relax enough to let himself get lost in those buttery pages. And he wanted to get lost.

"Um," Louis finally replied, realising he'd been staring at an indent in the corner of a page for several minutes. It had looked like a small P and Louis had found himself wondering what it would have gone on to spell if it were in Harry's handwriting. It seemed just as likely that he would have written penis as he would pretty .

"It's a lot to take in," Louis added once he'd pulled his eyes back to the lines that were actually printed.

"Aye, it takes a few times to get it, but you're not slow." He smiled so his teeth glinted. "I have faith in you, my darling fair youth ."

Though the name caught Louis off guard, he was thankful at least that Harry's quick tongue wasn't pulling him apart too much.

In an effort to keep him from actually doing just that, Louis ignored his words and stood from his desk. He made his way to the shelves of books that lined the wall around the window. He spoke as he made a point of drawing his fingers along the spines. "You ought to have your own book to busy yourself, Styles. What do you like to read?"

"Romance."

Louis paused and chuckled to himself. "That was a very quick answer. Unsurprising though."

He glanced back to see Harry shrug. "I know what I like."

"Try this then," Louis replied, pulling a thin book out from his collection. It was bound in red leather and read Willow's Grace .

Louis tossed it to the bed, so the book bounced just to the right of Harry. He picked it up and drew a finger across its cover.

"What's it about?" Harry asked.

It was about a nun named Willow who fell in love with another woman and was thereby accused of being a witch. When she'd been found out and sent to the stake, her lover, Grace, had saved her. And then they'd done what they'd always been warned not to, become witches.

He didn't want to tell Harry in which ways he was and wasn't like Willow, so he grinned and parroted what Harry had already said to him. "Read it and find out."

And so they fell into a third silence, this one far less tense than the ones before. It was a long sigh, a breath of fresh air. Finally, Louis managed to read, if only a bit.

He made it until he'd found out that Shakespeare's fair youth had bedded a woman and that that was his betrayal. It was then that Louis' mind started to again wander. Now, without Harry's eyes on him, gauging the thoughts in his head by the terse muscles in his shoulders, he could think about the inevitable. The betrayal that was waiting for Harry or Louis, depending on whomever won this game of theirs. Though Harry was full of smiles and quick remarks, and Louis full of a desire to spend every waking moment in his presence, soaking in his sharp sunshine, it was all a game. Always had been. And it was a game that would only end in betrayal. Because one of them would indefinitely be the one to kill the other. There was no other way about it. There was no other ending to the tale of the stowaway captain with a plan on an enemy ship.

Before Louis cursed himself for enjoying the sharp tension between them, he told himself it wasn't in fact a betrayal at all - not when they both knew it was to come. But still. That's the way it felt, because there was already something between them. An everything and a nothing, the space between their bodies felt too close yet too familiar. Harry was his enemy and yet Louis felt comfort with him. Excitement and wit and sharpness too, but there was an underlying kinship. He felt it with Harry's quick tongue, the smirk on his lips and the possible lies that spilled from them, though he felt it most with the quiet trust between them that they were definitely the same.

They were the same in the fact that given opposite circumstances, their play would look much the same. Harry would have tied Louis up instead of killing him. He would have tended to his wounds and fed him. He would have given him something to read. They both liked to play games of power and prowess, but it was all underlined with the knowledge that they respected each other. They were equals. Perhaps they weren't enemies at all, merely competitors of the same breed.

And so Louis thought about Harry and his inevitable betrayal, and he thought about what it would be to give in. To have his way, his fun, with Harry simply because Harry had offered. And he'd had no real reason to turn him down.

If he were to kill Harry at the end of this, at least he would have the satisfaction of knowing exactly what it is that he'd killed. He wouldn't be left to wonder which of Harry's words were genuine and which were lies to get himself untied.

Louis felt like kicking himself though, because there was the very real possibility that Harry would take Louis' advances as weakness, as giving in, and that they were as much of an opportunity to kill Louis as they were to have himself untied.

Harry had said he wouldn't need to be untied to kill him, and Louis believed him.

There was a reason that Harry was his only real competitor.

The least he could do for now would be to play Harry at his own game, to find his own weak spots and understand how he could be manipulated into giving his neck up. To kiss and to cut.

He could have his cake and eat it too.

"Harry," Louis said.

Harry shifted immediately. Louis could hear him drop his book to his side, then the gentle clunk as it fell from the bed to the floor.

"You said my name."

"I did," Louis replied as he turned to face Harry, telling himself to keep calm, collected. In control. "I wish to join in your game. You want to know me so you know my weaknesses, what do you say to me telling you if you tell me of yourself first? So we're equal?"

"Um," Harry started, crossing his legs. "I would say that's a great idea. Only one problem, I've already told you more of me than you of yourself."

Louis nodded. That was fair. But he didn't quite play fair. "I know you were of enough wealth to do a grand tour, and that you were a slave before you were a pirate. Tell me why you didn't go home after you were freed, and then I'll tell you why I became a pirate."

Harry squinted at him and thought for a moment before shrugging. "You drive a hard bargain, but I'm curious."

"Go on then."

"I will if you sleep here tonight."

Louis rolled his eyes. "Beggars can't be choosers."

"I'm not begging."

"Neither am I." Louis said it flatly but there was a dash of a smirk at the corner of his mouth.

Harry looked at him, mouth slightly slack. Then his lips slightly puckered and he looked thoughtful, cogs turning like a machine.

Louis shuffled his chair around so he was completely facing Harry, knees far apart, and waited expectantly.

"Well," Harry eventually conceded, shifting so his side was leant up against the bedpost that he was tied to. "My slave ship wasn't even a pirate ship. But it was liberated by one. I was on a Portuguese ship that was boarded and taken by Captain Rueben, and it was very quickly that I learned that pirates were not quite what I'd imagined them to be."

"What did you imagine them to be?"

"Unsavoury criminals who only plunder and take what doesn't belong to them."

"Are we not exactly that?"

"We are," Harry chuckled, "but I learned that the English are just as much that as pirates are. Our king is just as much a thief and a criminal as every man I have shared a bunk with since I set sail. His laws are based on nothing but greed and fear. I would be hung for being a sodomite just as quickly as I would for being a pirate, but at least this way, I can live by my own laws before I get there."

Louis felt a shiver through his spine. It was the exact sentiment he had lived by for the last ten years.

"So how did you become a pirate?" Harry asked.

Louis mulled over his words for a moment, shifting to draw his feet onto the seat of his chair. He spoke slowly and thoughtfully. "I was in the navy before this, for almost six months. We'd docked in Plymouth for two days and as all sailors do, we went out to wet our lips. At the inn we went to, I met another kid, barely an adult just as I was. And I thought he seemed nice. I thought . He'd been giving me eyes all night and so finally, with enough rum in me to have the balls, I approached him. It was the first time I'd ever approached anyone, but he seemed like a safe bet. He was slight and pretty and had straw coloured curls, honey coloured eyes. We went to the beach together, and I was nervous so I spent the last of my allowance on a bottle of wine to swig while we walked."

Louis took a breath and looked at his feet before he continued, "Only it was a trap. He'd been employed by the other men in my crew to lure me there, and when I finally brought my lips to his, they all came out from the wharves and held me down and took that bottle to my neck. First, they broke the neck off and used it to spin the circle into my neck, and unsatisfied that they'd branded me enough, they produced a knife and hacked an S in there too."

Harry didn't say anything. Louis glanced up at him and found himself staring into two wide eyes. It was enough to send his eyes back to his feet so he could continue. "I would have bled to death on that beach if the whole thing hadn't been witnessed by one of the local prostitutes. She half-carried me back to her brothel where they stitched me up and allowed me to sleep until I could bare to be awake again. I was penniless and owed those girls a great amount so I promised to find a way to pay them back. Between that and my sudden exile from the king's men, piracy seemed like the only thing for me to do. Like you, I had no place in British society, and no coin to run where my scar wouldn't have me killed."

"Do you like piracy then? If you felt forced into it," Harry asked thoughtfully.

"If not for piracy, I'm sure I would have been forced into much worse. As you said, I can create my own laws on the sea."

Harry gave him an understanding half smile and then asked, "Why did they not just kill you? Why go through all that effort just to brand you with that scar?"

Louis let out a dark chuckle and smiled glumly. "To them, it is a worse punishment to live as a sodomite than to die a man."

"Well, how wrong they are," Harry mused, resting his head against the bedpost so he could look to the ceiling. As though there would be more answers there.

"Indeed," Louis replied.

As much as Louis had hoped to learn one of Harry's weaknesses through having him talk, he only discovered his own.

The first was that he had a far greater soft spot for the man than he'd realised. And the second was that it was far, far more difficult to leave Harry than he'd ever thought.

Louis didn't leave his room for the rest of the afternoon. The only sign that time had passed was the gentle lowering of the sun through the window. Slowly, the room grew more golden, more orange, and then the light of the sun was replaced by the glow of candles.

They'd talked the entire time.

For so long even that half of their candles had burnt out and the other half barely flickered in the reflection of the patinated mirror atop Louis' dresser. Salt and time had worn it away until there were black constellations across it.

At first, it had been about the scars that their lives had left them with. Harry told Louis of the scar on his wrist, under his anchor tattoo. He'd got it when he was a child, a cut from a rock when he'd fallen crossing a river as he explored the woods behind his house. It reminded him of his mother, his maternal anchor. Louis told him of the scar on the back of his elbow from where he'd fallen from a second storey window in his own childhood. He'd been climbing out of his bedroom to explore the stony ruins of a desolate workhouse with his friends.

Then they moved to the other moments that marked their childhoods, the shiny glimpses that still felt warm when they thought of them. Harry's cocker spaniels and his trips to the cliffs in Dorset and the glimmers of sun in his eyes when he rode horses in the early spring mornings. Louis with the feeling of his mother's hands against his shoulder, the brush of her white summer dress as she held him in the summer evenings when the sky was purple.

They talked of the darker things too, the memories of the things that made them grow up too quickly, made them realise that their days of freedom were numbered. Harry's was the smell of banks, of money and dust. Louis' was the plumes of smoke that billowed from the factories in the horizon before he knew that man could live on the sea.

Harry was calm as he spoke, his body relaxed against the quilt of Louis' bed. He was such an open book, so easy in his storytelling, and the further they tumbled into each other's voices, the more it became apparent that Harry was simply Harry. He liked to think he played games more than he did. He was honest and forthcoming and witty and Louis didn't think he was good enough an actor to be making it all up.

So Louis slowly let himself be drawn more and more into Harry's questions. He found himself answering questions that Harry hadn't yet even gotten the chance to think up. He could anticipate what would come next out of Harry and usually, judging by the small smile on Harry's lips, he was right. Eventually, he made his way to join him on the quilts, his back against the right hand bedpost at the bottom of the bed. They faced each other and sat so their toes almost touched.

Louis couldn't point to the exact moment that it felt like they knew each other. At some point they were talking about what they looked like as children and the next, they were laughing about drunken nights in Jamaica. No sooner they were talking about all the times that they'd just barely missed each other, whether by mere minutes or simply the fact that they would not have recognised each other.

Louis thought of the night off the coast of Bermuda. The night that he knew they could have met and that Harry could have killed him.

He was about to ask about it when Harry suddenly professed that he needed to use the toilet. He made an unfortunate looking face and glumly said, "I've just realised that it's dark and not once have you let me relieve myself."

Louis caught himself halfway to another sentence and shut his mouth and, yes, he supposed Harry was right. Somehow the entire day had gone by and Harry hadn't made an effort to go once.

"To be fair," Louis started, shrugging impishly, "you never asked."

Harry scrunched his nose up as he breathed out a laugh. "Well I'm asking now."

And so Louis let him.

He pulled out the key on his necklace and unlocked the belt from the bedpost, and they walked together to the tiny bathroom. However, this time, Louis didn't help him with his trousers. And he didn't watch him. Instead, he closed the door behind Harry in his cuffs and rested against it as he waited for him to be done. Louis did not worry about Harry taking off his cuffs or trying to escape. The window next to the toilet was all but a tiny circle, barely wide enough to fit his head out if he smashed it open.

As he waited, Louis let his eyes fall on the bed, on the indent that Harry had left at the foot of it. At some point, Harry had pulled off his socks and now they sat wantonly on the floor. And it seemed befitting that Harry would leave a mark everywhere he went. He was so open, so honest, and perhaps that's what his game was. He simply said who he was and what he was going to do, and then he did it. Whether you believed him or not.

Perhaps he played on the fact that people didn't believe him. It gave him chance to say his plans in all their truth, and his victims were too busy considering how he was pulling one over on them to realise he'd already pulled everything off.

Perhaps leaving his mark on Louis was all part of the plan.

But it couldn't have been. They'd never met. There was no way that Harry could have known who Louis was. He didn't know what he looked like, nor that they would get on together so - dare he say - well. And so Louis found himself once again wondering how it was that they'd never met, never gotten into a battle of quick remarks in a tavern or landed on each other's deck with a heavy boot and a cutlass in hand. It wasn't as though they didn't have the chance. It wasn't as though Bermuda hadn't happened.

Without warning, Harry pulled the door open and Louis fell backwards with it, back into Harry. He caught him with a chuckle.

"Waiting with an ear against the door are we?" Harry asked teasingly as Louis stood straight and collected himself, readjusting his sheath straps. "Hear anything interesting?"

Louis turned and gave him a pointed look. "Unless it's you clambering out that window, there's nothing I would ever want to hear coming out of you on a toilet."

"Well that makes two of us then," Harry grinned as he started walking back to the bedpost. Once he was there he simply sat down and held his wrists up for Louis to tie back up.

Louis watched how he sat down so languidly, so routinely, and suddenly came to the realisation that Harry already had ample opportunity to escape. He could have swiped a blade from Louis' belt and cut himself free. He could have strangled Louis with his cuffs when he got too close, and Harry's restraints would have been a demise of Louis' own making.

Or he could have simply walked from the room when Louis had let him go to the toilet.

And yet, he didn't.

He didn't even yell for help, make himself known.

There was something unspoken, something understood, about the fact that Harry was going to stay here. They both knew that Harry would do as he was told, that while his restraints could stay, they weren't particularly needed.

Maybe it was the fact that Harry would be slaughtered if he were to run out onto the deck.

Maybe it was because Harry, like Louis, didn't particularly want to leave.

At least as far as Louis was concerned, there was something sharp and bright and sparking between them. And it felt real. It felt like they were both letting their guards down, letting the other one in, despite it making them more vulnerable. Their game, their back and forth, was exciting. It was all so bloody exciting .

Louis wasn't one to actually play with his life but he wondered what he would do now if Harry had come onto his ship back in Bermuda. If it were back then, he would have cut Harry's neck before Louis had the chance to note how perfectly his necklaces lay across it. And Harry would have gouged out Louis' scar before he understood how he got it.

But now. Now it would have been different. Not different as in love. If Harry had tried to take his heart, he wouldn't have already given it to him. No, not that. But he might give Harry the knife to take it, and Harry might give him a head start to run.

And that was enthralling. It was exciting . He liked not knowing he was the smartest in the room, the quickest or the slyest.

He'd made himself more vulnerable and it had been worth it. Harry was sitting on his bed, waiting to be tied up. Waiting for Louis to keep playing this game.

Louis walked back over to Harry and stood between his knees to lock the belt back up. And if Harry asked it was because it was unavoidable really, the belt was only so long. It was the only place to stand where Louis could tie them. And besides, it was Harry who had sat down with his knees so far apart. It was Harry who didn't seem to have any semblance of personal space. And so Louis stood there with his legs against Harry's trousers, absolutely not thinking about the warmth of Harry's thighs. And definitely not considering how they might feel pinning him down against the bed.

But Harry didn't ask, and so Louis didn't have to say anything of those things. Those lies. Instead, he could know that the weight and the warmth of Harry's thighs and what they might feel like around his waist were the only things on his mind.

Louis let his legs stand a little wider.

As he worked away, Louis glanced at Harry's face in his peripheral. He was watching Louis' hands hook the belt around the middle strap of his cuffs. And he was biting his lip.

Whether in thought or something more, something like the warm feeling Louis had in his stomach, Louis couldn't be sure.

But he wasn't moving his legs away.

Louis forced his eyes back to the lock as he clicked it shut.

The feeling in his stomach grew.

And Harry looked up at him. He whispered, "My darling fair youth."

Louis lifted his face to Harry and gave him a pointed, expectant look. But he didn't step away.

Harry grinned at the suspicious eyes on him, then he continued with, "I have a question."

"Mm?" Louis flatly hummed, not giving him the satisfaction of actually being interested, responding to that pet name, while he was standing so close.

"Why are you so trusting of me?"

"Trusting?" Louis asked.

"You've not been particularly strict about my being tied up. You let me sit here alone when you were fetching me rum for my burns. You let me go to the bathroom alone. And you stand so close."

The last sentence hung in the air and Louis didn't catch on to why Harry had said it until he felt the familiar whisper of blade leaving sheath.

Louis glanced down to see his dagger in Harry's right hand, the sharp end pointing towards his stomach. When he glanced up, Harry was looking at him with a wry smile.

"I could kill you right now."

Still, Louis didn't move away. Instead, he gave a daring smile back. Let his teeth gleam in the candlelight. This was all a part of their game.

"Why am I so trusting of you? I'll answer that with a question of my own," Louis thoughtfully said.

Harry quirked an eyebrow.

Louis snuck his hand behind his waist and pulled out the pin needle dagger that he kept on the back on his belt. He placed the tip of it to Harry's throat, turning it a little as he whispered, "Do you remember Bermuda?"

Harry let his smile hang open a little, like there were words on the edge of his lips. And then, despite the blade to his throat, he looked thoughtful.

Louis continued, "Do you remember how you blew my masts to pieces, how you half sunk us? I lost half my crew, my navigator lost his leg, and then-" Louis let his voice go light, airy- "Just like that... you sailed away before you even boarded my ship. You could have killed me, like you could right now, and yet. You didn't. You had the chance then and you didn't take it."

Louis could see in his eyes that Harry remembered that day. The Black Dagger had just made a trip to Bermuda and while Louis was there, he'd struck up quick, easy deal to take a shipment of salt back to Nassau. Barely a day into their journey, they'd come into two ships. First, the Portuguese. Then, near sundown, they'd seen the Pearl Rose on the horizon.

"No one brings anything of value back from Bermuda," Harry simply said. "There would have been nothing to plunder."

"But what of me? You knew it was my ship. Why waste your canons if not to finally kill me?"

"You're so humble, fair youth ," Harry teased, pressing his knife against the linen of Louis' shirt. "But if you must know-"

And Louis did.

"- It was simply too easy. I thought it strange that Captain Tomlinson should be taken down so easily. You barely put up a fight."

"We'd spent our canons taking down a Portuguese ship that morning."

"Ah," Harry smiled. "I thought something just as much."

"You still haven't answered my question though, why not kill me when you had the chance?" Louis asked, pressing his own knife against Harry's skin with the same weight of Harry's against him.

"I told you already, I'm a merciful captain. I only wanted to take you if it's an equal fight. You're too good to take by cowardice." Then he whispered, "I wanted to earn it."

Louis leant down his face to Harry's, close enough to kiss him. Close enough to see his reflection in his eyes. He whispered back, "Do you still?"

Harry got a wicked grin across his face. And he swallowed so Louis' blade shifted against his skin. "I don't know."

Harry kept his eyes firmly on Louis'. Then suddenly, he dropped his blade to the floor. It landed with a clatter and then everything was silent. Louis could only hear his own beating heart melting into Harry's sure, decided breaths.

Harry whispered, "I don't know that I want to kill you at all." There was a beat before Harry added, "Do you want to kill me? You have the chance now."

Louis almost couldn't get the words out. There was a heavy weight in his chest. A feeling he couldn't describe. Like a gutteral excitement. Fear and anticipation rolled into one. He was the only one with a knife now and yet it was him who felt trapped. There was no right answer here, but there was no wrong answer either. He couldn't say that he wanted Harry, his equal, to stay with him. He couldn't lie and say he wanted to kill him, and have to go through with it. Harry had been completely honest with him so far, he never hid from the truth, so it felt like the only right thing to do was to be honest back. It would be a fair fight then.

Louis shook his head.

Then he said, "I don't want you to force me to."

"I won't force you to do anything," Harry replied darkly. He licked his lips and it felt like he was forcing Louis into kissing them.

But this was a game.

And Louis didn't want to lose.

So he drew his dagger from Harry's neck and he placed to Harry's lips instead. He pressed the flat side into the skin of his bottom lip and made no attempt to hide the fact that he was watching how Harry's lip glistened around it.

"Shakespeare's fair youth betrays him for not falling into his love, correct?" Louis asked as though he were merely pondering aloud, merely trying to remember.

Harry didn't say anything. He just delicately pressed his tongue to the tip of the blade and blinked slowly up at Louis as he did it. His eyes were wide, dilated in the candlelight. Glossy.

"Well I'm not falling tonight," Louis breathed, letting himself grin again.

He pulled his knife away.

He stood back.

Harry frowned.

"Not even just one kiss?" he asked.

Louis chuckled and shook his head. "Not even one."

Harry's eyes shifted down himself. "Then what am I to do with my trousers? You've made them too tight."

Louis wanted to glance down with him but he knew that if he did, he'd lose. He'd give in and cover Harry's body with his mouth. Instead, Louis let the shock of warm blood shoot through his body and collect in his gut as he watched Harry flick his eyes back up to meet him through his eyelashes. Then Louis said, voice catching just a little, "You can do with them what you like."

Just for good measure, just to make Harry know that he could play his games just as much as him, Louis left the room.

It was cool out, a different kind to leaving his quarters during the day. It was a quiet cool, still and charcoal. The sails were awash with it, barely whipping in the gentle breeze. It sent a shiver through Louis' spine; his skin was so sensitive, burning from the fire Harry had put beneath it. He could feel himself suddenly throbbing - a heavy weight, warm and thick, pressing against his trousers. The way Harry had been looking at him at the end there, it had been too much. Too intense. And the way he'd looked up at Louis from behind his eyelashes had been even worse.

Truth be told, Louis wanted to turn on his heel and go back in there. He wanted to make Harry's mouth his, put those wet lips to use. He wanted to see how glossy he could make his eyes. He wanted to kiss him.

But this was a game and Louis wasn't losing. He wasn't going to show that kind of weakness. Not yet.

He wouldn't give Harry the satisfaction.

Still, there was the glaring fact that Louis was hard in his trousers, and he needed a way to deal with it. Alone.

Thankfully, it was so late that no one was about, save only for the slumped body of a lookout too tired for his job. Usually Louis would have waltzed up there, to the head of the ship where he was half-laying, and kick his shoe, give him a good natured slight for letting the late hour get the better of him. In his current state though, there was no chance he would rouse them. Louis didn't want to arouse suspicion to the fact that he was so - well - aroused.

So he slunk past and went to the one place he knew he could be left to it, too far to be seen or heard. To the crow's nest on the foremast.

It'd been years since he'd been a rigger, climbing amongst the sails to earn his place, but the muscle memory was still there. He still had the hard bumps of calluses across his palms and the strength in his arms - even if now it was from swords and not ropes. Louis pulled himself up onto the rigging with both arms, hoisting himself up until his toes caught purchase, and then he climbed. Below him, the sea got further and darker. The dark horizon grew sharper. When he made it to the top, pushing himself up and over into the bucket of the platform, the moon seemed close enough to touch. The stars seemed endless. His skin felt static.

Louis sat down on the floor of the platform and rested his back against the wooden frame that circled it.

Here, heart thudding, he was finally free. For his hands to wander to his belt and his mind to wander its way back to the dark depths of Harry's eyes. They were so perfect, so round, the pupils so dilated that the night sky didn't compare.

He thought about the way Harry's wet bottom lip slid against his knife, and he pictured his cock in place of it.

Louis touched himself.

He slid his hands into the cloth of his trousers and collected himself in his right hand. The skin of his penis was soft, smooth, as he stroked himself. It was so easy to do this, to let his hand run up and down like it was moving in water. Like he was swimming in the pool that swarmed his gut.

Harry was so gorgeous and Louis was allowed to think that up here, away from those eyes. Those hands. He was allowed to think about running his fingers through Harry's hair. He bet it was soft, perfect for tugging. For fisting.

Louis leant his head back against the wooden frame and clasped a little harder, pulled a little faster.

He bit his lip and ogled the sky as he did it, imagining that the grasp of Harry's fists against his arse would be just as endless. The thought of Harry's hands tight against him, grabbing him, holding him down, shot stars through his veins.

He thought of being the one held in cuffs instead, of Harry's hands holding them down against the bed, and more shot through him.

Here was the only place he could think it. It was the only place Louis was alone enough to let himself muster the words without losing any game. They bled from his lips, tiny smatterings of syllables on the edge of his hitching breath.

He wanted Harry to fuck him.

And then he came.

A shot of air left Louis' lips as he shook through the spasms, his head hitting against the wood behind him. As the last quivers left him, he let out a shaky breath and felt his body slump. He felt heavy, but different from before. Like the heaviness of sleep, not anticipation.

Lazily, Louis wiped the come across his palm on the bottom of his shirt - where it had lifted out of his trousers. The stains glistened. They made him think of them coming from Harry and it almost made him touch himself again, but the pull of sleep was stronger. His poor sleep from the night before had caught up to him.

He was spent and the night was dark and it was easy to drift into dreams of Harry's lips.

Louis quickly fell from consciousness, eyes drooping contently. He was almost dead asleep when he heard the faint clatter of something hitting wood. The sound shook him from his dreams and made his heart jump. In his half-slumbered state, he couldn't tell the distance of the sound, couldn't tell if he'd just been caught whispering Harry's name in his sleep or if someone were passing by on the deck below.

He could not quite pull himself out of his state, the tug of sleep too strong, but he could at least let his eyes fall half open so his eyelashes still shielded him from his surroundings. Hazily, he pushed himself up the side of the crow's nest to see what had made the sound and there, far down on the deck below, was a figure walking to the head of the ship. Though it was dark, Louis could just barely register that it was Tavis, with his long black hair - straight as a knife - and his willowy shoulders. He was holding three buckets, water spilling over the edges as he moved, and that alone was enough for Louis to calm down. He hadn't been spotted, it was simply a crewmate moving through the night. And so Louis let himself slide back to his spot and let his eyelids fall just as quickly as sleep came back to him.

Louis woke with a splash of water to his face.

The sun was bright and hot and his skin was tight from it. So the water was a shock. It made him bolt upright.

He wiped at his eyes until he could bear to blink them open. There was a figure above him, but the sun cast them as a shadow against a blue sky. Louis' eyes weren't yet adjusted to the day.

Slowly though, they came into focus.

Slim shoulders, small build, mop of straight hair. It was Tavis. And he was closing the lid on his flask.

"Morning, Cap," he said brightly, smiling ear to ear. Even though his heavy Scottish accent cuddled his words, Louis could still hear the sharpness in them, like he'd thought he'd caught Louis out and it was all quite amusing. "What did you get up to last night?"

Louis immediately looked down at himself and, thankfully , he was in decent enough shape. The swipe of dried come along his front matched the colour of his linen shirt so it was barely visible. And if it was noticed, there were plenty of things it could have been. Spilt milk, dried rum. Any of it. It really wasn't that unusual for their kind to be dirty.

Louis looked back up at Tavis and raised his chin confidently. Or as confidently as he could muster after being caught sleeping like a drunk at the top of the mast. "Was simply nice out."

"Tis nice down on the decks too," Tavis replied cheekily. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear and looked at Louis like it was a challenge. He was always like this, Louis saw a lot of himself in the kid. Always looking for ways to prove his quick wit, that he was sharp. That he saw things.

"It is," Louis said, standing up so he was the same height as him. "But surely you of all people can appreciate that the view is always best from up here. I used to spend every day up here too, it's nice to visit every once in a while."

"Aye," Tavis said, watching as Louis tucked his shirt back into his trousers. "That's true but still, it's a bit suspicious is it not, Cap? Sneaking out to sleep up here, not much to see at night."

Tavis was grinning so Louis let it slide. For the most part. A part of him felt caught, but there was no way Tavis was anything more than a kid keen on trying his wit. So instead of pushing out a finger so Tavis fell to the deck below, he simply raised an eyebrow and grinned. "And what is it you're suspecting, my young wain?"

Tavis twisted his mouth. "Nothing in particular, I'm just saying."

"Ah," Louis breathed, nodding as he went to the edge of the nest and hopped over to the outside of it with a loose smile. "Perhaps then, Tavis, you'll simply appreciate the fact that you got away with waking me so unceremoniously without any punishment and we'll leave it at that."

"Aye," Tavis said, lowering his head just a touch. Because although Louis sounded jovial, teasing in his words, everyone on board knew that he wasn't to be prodded.

"Aye," Louis smiled back. Then he patted Tavis's shoulder. "Good lad."

Tavis gave him a small smile back and watched as Louis hopped down and clambered to deck.

On the ground, most of his crew were quietly working away. By all accounts, nothing was amiss. No one batted an eyelid at the fact that Louis had come down from the ropes. Which, well, there wasn't much of a reason for them to do that in the first place, it was his ship and he could do as he liked, but Louis' haunches were still up. He could feel the slight pull of his shirt inside his trousers tugging on his navel hair where his come had stuck. And he could feel the distance between him and Harry.

He wanted to check on him. He wanted to check that Liam hadn't used his key to Louis' quarters in the middle of the night and then quartered Harry when he'd found him instead.

Louis made it halfway across the deck before Liam was right there, standing in front of him. Came out of nowhere like a tidal wave, his heavy boots hitting the ground in front of Louis and making him jump.

And he was grinning ear to ear.

"Captain Louis Tomlinson," he gleamed, and Louis couldn't help but roll his eyes. This tone always came before Liam said something teasing. And teasing for Liam meant attempting to say something snarky, gossipy, but sounding instead like he belonged with the teddies Louis' sisters kept on their bed growing up. "I've been looking for you all morning. But you're out and about, did someone drink too much last night and end up somewhere he shouldn't?"

"Looking for me?" Louis breathed out. He felt caught out, like Liam was about to pull the timber out from under him. Like he was about to fall into the hammocks below.

"Aye," Liam said. "Thought you might be stretching your legs since you weren't to be seen all of yesterday so I had a wander and couldn't find you anywhere. And when you didn't answer your door I assumed you were still sleeping and left you to it."

"Oh," Louis settled. He wanted to ask Liam if he'd peeked inside, but it seemed too obvious. Too suspicious. So instead he carefully said, "You've got a key."

Liam smiled at that. "Yeah, but I know better than to walk in unannounced. Surely you remember that night we were docked in Nassau with, um, what was his name?"

Louis didn't remember the name of the man Liam had walked in on him with, but he remembered the ensuring chaos. The flying of hands and pillows, the cracking of his door being slammed shut. The strange noises that came from Liam's room as he tried to gather himself together.

"Right, well," Louis coughed up, trying to move on, "I appreciate you learned some manners. Why did you want me?"

Liam's face changed at that, clearly just as thankful as Louis to not dwell on the embarrassing sight of Louis' stark white arse up in the air. Liam's cheeks touched the underside of his glasses as he smiled and said, "Ah, yes. I was just going to ask if I could borrow your game of checkers. I've got a bet with a couple of the crew but I wanted to ask first, obviously."

"Obviously," Louis repeated, tinge of a smile on his lip. Liam was so well mannered, it was a wonder he'd ever become a pirate in the first place. "Of course you can, Li. It was in the navigation room last I saw - I had a game with Niall last week."

"Right, well," Liam replied, shifting on his feet. "I had a look there, but someone's moved everything around. They've tidied it."

"Horrifying," Louis mused flatly. He wasn't about to tell Liam that it was him who'd done it. And he certainly wasn't about to tell him why. "I'll have a look if you like?"

He'd say anything to make sure Liam didn't hover too long.

"You would?" Liam asked. He sounded doubtful.

"Sure, why not. What else is there for a captain to do around here if not work for his crew? Is that not my job? Make sure everyone keeps their heads screwed on so we don't die?"

"I suppose," Liam said, breathing out his amusement. "I'd be sure to die if I don't have my checkers."

"Exaaactly!" Louis said brightly, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

So they made their way up to the navigation room and Louis tried his best to look like he didn't know exactly where the game had been tucked away on a top shelf. He made an effort to screw up his mouth thoughtfully and try the opposite side of the room first. In fact, he was so good at making a show of rustling through scrolls and books, that it was Liam who ended up finding the thing.

Louis had to bite back his grin as Liam held it up in the air triumphantly.

What Louis had forgotten though, was the teetering pile he'd left under the checkers box. It was a pile of games, cards, a sneaky flask of port. All the things necessary for the nights that Louis spent with Liam and Niall when it was quiet out. As Liam went to excitedly open the box in his hands, check that everything was as it should be, the entire pile, well, fell.

There was a heavy box containing a jewelled set of chess pieces that fell on his shoulder with an impressive whack. And a wooden carton of cards that fell right after it and hit the back of his head before it crashed to the ground and sent cards shooting in every direction.

And it was kind of Louis' fault, but he wouldn't admit it. Not even for the fact that it was him that had put them there, but for the fact that that it wasn't his fault that he didn't know how to actually be tidy. And Liam could have been more careful. Honestly.

Liam let out a quiet fuck under his breath and jumped forward in case anything else decided his head made for a great landing spot. Luckily though, the rest of their games stayed put.

"You alright?" Louis asked as Liam caught hold of himself and drew a hand to the back of his head. He pulled it away and looked at his fingers as though he might be bleeding. But he wasn't.

"Just a good whack," Liam said, giving Louis a half-smile. "I'll be fine."

"Well that's good, we can't be losing the world's most notorious quartermaster to a box of cards now, can we?"

Liam chuckled to himself. "Absolutely not. I might be dead, but I still wouldn't hear the end of it from you."

"You're quite right there," Louis grinned, knocking Liam's arm with his knuckle before bending down to pick everything up. Liam started helping him immediately, clawing together a pile of all the cards so he could pack them back together.

Louis picked up the chess box and wiped the top of it. He'd cleaned it when he'd cleaned the room, but already specks of dust had started to collect along it. It was an ivory box, plain and rectangular, except the sides were engraved with florally golden swirls. There was a name along one of the corners, Mr T. M. Hendricks . Louis had never known who he was, only that his chess box had ended up in the possession of Louis' first captain - One-Eyed Gallagher. And that he'd then given that box and a promotion to Louis when he'd saved his life.

He supposed he should have kept it in his own quarters with the rest of his most prized possessions, but there was no point in playing chess without a partner, and Louis didn't often let others hang about in his room.

Until now.

He thought of Harry and supposed that the man would probably like to play. He seemed to like to play mind games, so chess shouldn't be so different.

Carefully, Louis opened the box so he could check if any of the pieces had been broken in the fall. They were gold and set with jewels. One set had blue sapphires in them, and the other had opals. They all seemed intact except for the sapphire Queen. The gem at the top of her spire had broken off.

"What'll you do?" Liam asked as he watched Louis turn the piece in his hand.

Louis screwed up his mouth and hummed to himself. He wasn't sure how he could fix it, it was tiny and he'd didn't have a jeweller on hand. "It'll have to wait until we get to Senegal at least."

Still, that wouldn't stop him from taking it back to his room.

Carefully, Louis pocketed the broken piece and the tiny blue jewel and closed the box as he quietly said, "I'll keep it with me so I don't forget to get it fixed."

"Sounds like a good plan," Liam smiled.

"I'm full of those," Louis grinned. He loved being facetious with Liam. It was so easy.

Liam smacked his nose.

Harry was lying on his stomach reading, ankles crossed in the air behind him. He looked like a girl writing in her diary, which was neither surprising nor terrible. Louis was starting to grow quite fond of the fact that Harry was so comfortable, so languid in the bed sheets. He swore that every time he saw him, the man was moments away from twirling his hair and batting his eyelids.

Which Louis wouldn't oppose either.

Harry looked up at him with a grin and Louis was sure he saw his eyelashes flutter. "Afternoon," he said. Even though it was definitely not the afternoon yet. "I missed you."

"Good morning to you too," Louis said as he locked the door and went over to his desk. "How's the book?"

"Almost done, actually. Which wasn't difficult considering I've had all morning to read it."

Louis placed the chess box onto his desk and then carefully pulled the broken pieces of the queen from his pocket. He talked over his shoulder as he placed them next to the box. "Apologies. I got a bit caught up outside."

"Ah," Harry breathed as he shifted to sit up. "Did someone suspect something?"

"No, no. Nothing I'm worried about. I think my barrelman is trying to work his way up the ropes, per se."

"Mm?"

"He was doing god knows what out on deck last night-"

"Is that why you didn't come back?"

Louis shook his head and he turned to lean against the desk. "No, I- uh. I just slept out there."

"Shame."

" Such a shame," Louis replied sarcastically. "It's a wonder you're still here after I left for so long."

"It's a wonder that my bladder hasn't burst," Harry grinned. Then he shook the belt around the bedpost.

"Sorry," Louis said. It came out automatically. But he wasn't shy about it. Harry was quickly becoming the only person he'd apologise to.

He went over to Harry and undid the lock, letting it fall to the bed. Louis didn't even go over to the door with Harry this time. Despite the knives of the night before, there was no real need to. Because that was exactly what proved that Louis would feel quite comfortable that Harry wasn't going to actually stab him anymore.

Though he didn't trust him enough to actually free him altogether. He was letting his guard down an inch, not the whole way.

Harry wandered over to the small bathroom and closed the door behind him. As he shut it, Louis let himself sit on the edge of the bed. He put a hand to where Harry had been sitting. It was still warm. Still dipped where his hips had been.

It smelled like Harry too, which was something that Louis couldn't quite explain. He didn't smell like earth or rain or the ocean or anything Louis could touch. He smelled like warmth and comfort, but of refreshment too. Like frothy waves washing over your toes at the beach on a summer's day. Like sun in the middle of winter.

He pictured Harry lying here the night before, writhing in his hands just as Louis had done outside.

It sent shockwaves through his blood, make his gut glow warm. A quiet throb through his whole body.

Louis let his fingers graze over the sheets and slowly make their way to the copy of Willow's Grace that Harry had left there. He picked it up and absentmindedly flipped through the pages. Louis had read this book at least five times, each time finding something new to mull over. This time, it was Harry's fingerprints. He couldn't see them, but knowing they'd been there was enough.

Harry had dog-eared the page he'd last been reading and the crease made Louis' stomach do something funny. Go light and fuzzy. It was evidence, knowledge, that they'd both shared the same pages, the same story. Gotten lost in the same world.

And Harry had made it over three quarters of the way through it, so either he was incredibly bored or he actually rather liked it.

Louis bit his lip and carefully put the book down. The room was quiet. He could hear Harry shifting about in the bathroom, the pad of his feet as he stepped around.

Louis wondered what he was doing in there. Probably touching the shadow of chin hair he'd started to grow. Or plucking out a licorice chew stick to freshen his breath with. They seemed like Harry things to do, he came across as more preened than the usual pirate.

In the quiet of the moment though, Louis quickly came to himself. Being alone would give him a chance to change his shirt before Harry could make any quick jabs at him. Because he wouldn't mistake his stain for milk, he'd guess right away what it actually was. And then Louis would have absolutely no option but to toss himself overboard. Sheer embarrassment alone.

Louis quickly made his way over to his dresser and slid open the top drawer. He had amassed quite the collection of clothes and usually he would pick any from the pile, but he wanted something that would help him keep his cool. Would help him from completely forgetting that he should have his guard up at all.

There was a black one near the bottom that he'd had for years. It was billowy French linen and tousled by years of wear. The smell of a perfume he wore years ago still clung to it, and surely that would be enough for Louis to remember where he'd come from. To remember how it was he'd managed to keep himself alive.

He pulled it out and pressed his nose into it. It smelt of oranges and musk, half of which was probably from being kept in the dusty corners of Louis' quarters for so long. Still, it would do.

He placed it on the dresser and lifted the shirt he was wearing over his head.

A chuckle came from near him.

It was Harry.

Louis pulled his arms down, shirt hanging only onto his wrists and looked over. His heart thudded.

"You know," Harry said, he was leaning against the door frame, chew stick hanging from his mouth, "you had me in absolute knots last night."

Louis just blinked at him. It was him who had been in knots, completely wound up, the night before. Between the thought of Harry and the feel of his own hands , Louis hadn't known what to do with himself. Eventually, he managed, "What do you mean?"

"I mean you left me here, tied up and alone, wondering if you were coming back."

"Sounds awful," Louis said, keeping his tone flat.

"Did you sort yourself out?" Harry asked, raising his cuffed hands to play with the chew stick. He rolled it between two of his fingers, flicking it with this tongue.

"Did you?" Louis countered.

"Not yet."

Louis didn't know what to say, but he felt the skin on his bare back prick. And his gut warm.

Harry continued, "I waited to see if you were just playing and that you'd come back to help me out since I've been so good so far. And then you didn't and my body gave out and I fell asleep."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Louis said as smoothly as possible. He tried so hard to keep a straight face, but it was so difficult with Harry standing there like that. Chew stick in his mouth and challenge in his eyes.

"I am too. But."

But.

But.

Harry walked over to Louis so they were less than a metre apart and placed his chew stick down on the dresser. Suddenly he seemed so tall. His smell was so strong. His delicate chin hairs looked perfect from this distance. Kissable.

Louis could feel his heartbeat catching in his chest.

"We could always make up for it now. It's nicer to see you in this light." Harry gave Louis a once over, eyes catching on the hairs, the tattoos, across his chest.

"What's-" Louis started before his voice caught. He pulled his arms around himself so he felt less naked.

Harry didn't wait for him to finish. He pressed his hands together so they made a gun and held them to the underside of Louis' jaw. Then slowly, he turned up Louis' head so his neck was exposed.

Louis' veins were all on fire. His arm hairs on end. His breath short.

It felt like Harry knew it, he grinned and his teeth were half on show.

He whispered, "You are such a pretty creature."

And then, slowly, carefully, he closed in on Louis. On his neck. He lapped at the side of it with one slow, measured licking kiss.

When he pulled away, Louis could feel the air collect against the saliva Harry left. It was cool. And it made Louis hot.

Harry looked down at Louis, his hands unmoving under his chin. And Louis was unmoving too. He was staring at the ground, trying to collect his thoughts, trying to merely hold himself together.

It was difficult, his legs wanted to give out and Louis wanted them to fall into Harry's hands, but he didn't want to hand over all the power to Harry. They might have had their time together the day before, Harry might have had the opportunity to kill him and left it. Louis might have come in his hand to the idea of Harry fucking him. But that didn't mean he would just let it happen. Not now, not now that Harry was right there. Not locked up. Hand under Louis' chin. It was too real. Louis' heart was racing too quickly.

Louis was Harry's fair youth , they knew betrayal had to lie at the end of this. And Harry wouldn't just let himself be used, be fucked and killed, if he didn't have a plan to take the killing out of the equation first. Even if they were two pages out of the same book, even if they had confessed their lives before piracy, Harry wasn't that stupid. That naive. This had to be a part of a bigger plan.

Louis would figure him out before he let Harry do all the things he'd dreamt of him doing the night before.

He narrowed his eyes and turned his head to face Harry. Their eyes locked and Louis had to force himself not to let out a lusting sigh and kiss him right there, push him up onto the dresser and wrap Harry's arms around his neck so he could feel the thin chain between the cuffs against the bones in his neck.

Louis raised his hand and pressed a finger to the chain of the cuffs instead. He pushed Harry backwards, leading him towards the bed. Then he shoved hard enough for Harry to fall back and sit on the quilt.

"You're playing games with me, Harry." Louis looked down at him with his chin high, his haunches up. His cock hard.

"Am I?" Harry asked back.

Louis shoved his shirt back on and tried to ignore the stain right there, level with Harry's eyes. Then he locked Harry back to the bedpost. Distraction seemed like the best way to go about this, to catch Harry off guard enough to get some answers out of him. To figure him out without realising.

If this were yesterday, he probably would have already let Harry kiss him properly. On the mouth. But now, in the bright of day, he had a little more clarity. Was a little more aware.

And he was aware of the fact that the only reason his haunches were back up was because it had only been two days and Louis was already considering taking those ties off Harry and asking him to put them on him instead. Asking Harry to consume him entirely. It was dangerously close to not being a game anymore. There was no competition in Louis wanting to give up his end of the bargain.

"We'll play a different game instead," Louis said, spinning on his heel and stalking over to his desk. He swiped up his game of chess and the broken queen, leaving the tiny blue jewel to sit on its own.

Then he grabbed the back of his desk chair and dragged over to the edge of the bed, its feet scraping harshly against the timber of the floor. Harry didn't say anything, but he did watch Louis with a smirk. Perhaps Louis was being too obvious in how much Harry was getting under his skin.

Harry glanced at the bump in Louis' trousers as he dropped himself into the chair and it sent a panic up Louis' spine. He'd seen him, there was no hiding it, and his smirk had grown for half a second.

Louis dumped the box on the bed and Harry quickly pushed himself further back for there to be enough space to open it between them. He sat with one knee up and his opposite foot tucked in the space under it. He looked relaxed, confident, and so despite the fact that he was tied up it was him that was in control.

Louis sat with his legs loosely crossed so he could lean forward onto his elbows and hope that his erection went down.

Harry opened the box and the grid stared up at him.

"Chess?" he asked, glancing up at Louis with a bemused expression. "We're playing chess?"

"Is something wrong with that?" Louis asked, trying to sound as sharp as Harry's eyes looked.

"Nothing at all. I'm not very good though, fair warning."

"How come?"

Harry was thoughtful for a moment as he set up the pieces and then bit his lip. "I'm not good at thinking that many steps ahead."

"Aren't you?" Louis asked, setting up his own army - he took the sapphire pieces. It felt like he was asking more.

Harry shook his head, glancing up. "I think best in the moment."

"White usually starts, so I play opal first with this set," Louis gently added, motioning for Harry to make the first move, before he properly replied to the conversation at hand. "What are you thinking right now?"

Harry pushed forward a pawn and shrugged his shoulders. "I'm thinking that there's things I'd rather be doing with you than playing chess."

Louis moved one of his pawns, so that in three moves he could put Harry into check. "Why do you want to do that?"

It didn't need to be said what that was.

"Why do you try to make me think you don't ?" Harry asked, hand hovering over his pieces. As he grabbed another pawn and pushed it forwards, he glanced up and added with a smirk, "You clearly want to."

"Just because I want something doesn't mean I get it." Louis pushed forwards another pawn.

"Why not? Aren't you a pirate? Isn't that the whole point?"

Louis answered as Harry pushed forward another, seemingly random, pawn. "A smart pirate chooses his battles."

"But this isn't a battle."

"Isn't it?"

"No." Harry moved his rook and then looked up at Louis, putting his chin on his knee. "I don't want it to be. Not anymore."

Louis took his turn and didn't say anything. Instead, he just finished and looked up at Harry expectantly.

Harry held his eyes as he added. "I had a lot of time to think last night and this morning and I found myself missing you. I've come to the definitive conclusion that I don't want to kill you at all. I couldn't do it last night, and I don't think I will today or tomorrow or the day after."

"That's..." Louis said as he looked at the board. His hand hovered over the pieces. There were already two ways he could put Harry in check.

He took neither of them.

"That's unfortunate," he finally said.

Harry's brow tersed. "Why?"

"If you don't kill me, what do you do at the end of this? There will be an end."

Harry grinned at him like he knew something Louis didn't. "I just got up to the part in your book where Willow and Grace decide to run away and be witches together. It got me thinking. We could be like that. Imagine the stories. Instead of them being of one of us finally killing the other, imagine if they were of us taking on the seas together ."

"It's been two days, Harry."

"If my options are to go on an adventure together or to be killed, why not let it just be two days."

"You think you'll be the one to be killed then, do you?" Louis smirked as Harry finally took his move.

"I'm being generous," Harry said airily, smiling as he slid a knight across the board.

"How am I to trust you? How do I know this isn't all a ploy to get you out of your restraints? You could be lying."

Harry looked at him with his eyes narrowed, like he didn't believe Louis was being serious. "Louis," he said. "I've had the opportunity to kill you so many times and I've never taken it. I just told you that I don't think that many steps ahead. Why do you still cling to the idea of my getting loose to kill you? Why is that your excuse?"

Louis didn't know how to answer. Because clinging to that idea was exactly what he was doing. It was all he could do. If not that, then he'd have to finally admit to Harry that he did something to Louis that no one else did. He made him soft .

He said nothing and moved his bishop.

Harry smiled at his silence and looked like he caught on to an idea.

"And Louis?" he added innocently. "If it makes you feel safer, you don't have to take off my restraints until you're certain I'm being honest. I really don't mind these cuffs. My burns don't hurt anymore."

Louis blinked at him as Harry slid a piece across the board. The grin didn't leave Harry's face as he watched his hand move.

"Wha- I can't leave them on."

"Can't you?" Harry asked silkily, looking back up at him as he moved a bishop.

"That would be... imbalanced. I would have too much power, and you too little."

"What's wrong with that?"

"We're- we're equals. We have to be if I'm to touch you.."

"You're the one who owns these, aren't you? Surely you know that being cuffed is just as much fun as doing the cuffing."

Louis could only look at him blankly. The erection that had finally dissipated started to come back. His skin felt hot.

"It's your turn," Harry said simply.

Louis bit his lip and pushed forward a pawn. It did nothing to the game bar give him another move, give him more time to let the heat in his blood brew.

Harry moved his bishop and took Louis' pawn.

"What's stopping you now?" Harry asked as he set the pawn on the bed next to him.

"Nothing," Louis breathed as he moved his queen and took one of Harry's rooks. He was playing senselessly now.

"Nothing," Harry parroted with a smirk. "Uh huh."

Then Harry moved his bishop and took Louis' queen. He didn't say anything as he did it, instead favouring to focus on turning the piece between his fingers.

Louis took his move, shifting his own bishop. When he was done, he looked up at Harry and waited for him to take his turn. Or to take Louis.

He did neither.

Harry simply watched Louis with plotting eyes and a hint of a smile on his lips. Then, without taking his eyes off of Louis, he extended his arm behind him. So it was reaching over the left side of the bed.

Harry opened his hand and let the queen fall to the ground.

It landed with a dense clunk and rolled.

Harry watched Louis and said nothing.

Louis said nothing and watched Harry.

Then Harry took the pawn and dropped that too.

"What are you doing?" Louis breathed, utterly confused. He wanted to rub a palm to his trousers or let Harry do it for him, not throw chess pieces to the floor.

Harry didn't answer him. Instead, he plastered a look of innocence on his face and simply said, "I would pick them up but since I'm tied up, I can't reach the ground. I need your help, Louis."

Oh.

Louis got it now.

Not one to be outdone, he retaliated with a daring look. "And why should I retrieve them? They're already out of the game."

Harry paused.

Then he picked up Louis' king and threw it off the bed with unwavering eyes, so it rolled towards the lavatory.

Louis didn't know what to do with himself. He couldn't decide between letting his eyes roll back with the jolt of fire Harry's eyes were sending through his body, or to roll his eyes because Harry was being so petulant.

He settled on staring Harry down and slowly standing out of his chair. There was no way he wasn't achingly visible through his trousers, but he was counting on the fact that Harry's eyes weren't leaving his as he walked around the bedpost towards the chess pieces. As he walked past, Harry shifted too so his feet where hanging over the edge of the bed and Louis was directly in front of him.

Louis collected the king from near the bathroom door, keeping his eyes on Harry's as he bent over. He kept his legs straight, bending only at the waist, so the curve of his arse would be visible.

They were like two ships in a ravine, destined to collide. It was only a matter of time. Only a matter of Louis closing the distance.

He walked forwards and hovered near Harry before he finally bent down, at the knees this time, to collect the queen and the pawn.

Louis stood up and he took one last step forward, so he was right above Harry. So his belt was at Harry's chin.

Harry tipped his head back so he could keep his eyes on Louis'. His hair fell down his back and his jaw went slack. He blinked twice at Louis, slowly and purposefully.

Louis looked down at him and dropped the pieces on the bed next to Harry. Neither of them saw them though. They only saw each other.

Louis swallowed.

As he drew his left hand back to his side, Harry finally moved. He caught Louis' hand with his and held it near his face, while still never taking his doe eyes off Louis'.

Then slowly, too slowly, Harry drew Louis' fingers to his mouth.

He let Louis' index and middle fingers fall on his bottom lip, let the weight of them drag it downwards. He loosened his jaw and opened his mouth as Louis' fingers pulled down his lip.

Louis watched intently, marking how the inner of Harry's lip was so wet. He would probably taste of licorice now, but the sight reminded him more of bitten strawberries. Pink and wet and perfectly sweet.

Harry tightened his grip on Louis' hand and pulled his fingers back up into his mouth. Onto his tongue.

It was wide, flat, soft. Wet. Louis couldn't help but roll his eyes back this time. A shock of heat washed through him again and he was all too aware of how much he throbbed. How much his whole body throbbed. Harry pushed Louis' fingers in deeper, till they touched the back of his tongue, and then finally he closed his mouth.

Louis felt Harry move his tongue slowly, sensually, around his fingers and, like the knife before, imagined what it would be like if it were his cock instead. Harry was so wet, so warm, all around him. His trousers felt too tight. So tight it almost hurt.

He was aching to touch himself. Or be touched by Harry.

Harry suddenly tightened his mouth and sucked on Louis' fingers, letting his cheeks hollow and his teeth graze skin, and Louis actually jolted forwards. His hips pulled him without warning and Harry smirked around Louis' fingers.

Harry let his mouth go lax again and swirled his tongue around and it was just so wet . Then he pulled away so Louis' fingers came out glistening. Harry's lips were glistening too, wet and shiny, and he bit his lip and Louis felt himself lurch forwards again.

"Do you like that?" Harry whispered innocently, letting his tongue come out and slowly lick his lip.

Louis could only nod.

"Good," Harry whispered again. "I like it too."

Then he licked a stripe up the underside of Louis' fingers and drew him back into his mouth, pushing so the tips of his fingers went to the back of Harry's throat. Louis could feel the soft cushion of the roof of Harry's mouth dip down to meet his fingernails. It was so far into Harry's mouth. As far as Louis could reach. And it was obscene. Harry didn't even flinch. He just gazed up at Louis with wide, wet eyes.

Then, without taking those eyes off of Louis, Harry used his left hand to press a finger to Louis' belt. Delicately, he held it there for a passing moment and then began to draw a line down past his drawstrings and over the outline of his cock.

Louis flinched at the feeling of it, his fingers moving suddenly as he did, but Harry didn't protest. He just moved his mouth with him so he could suckle on Louis' fingers perfectly.

Harry suddenly yanked on Louis' belt, pulling the leather out of the first half of the buckle like he'd done this a million times before. Like he knew Louis' trousers like his own. He was rough with it, yanking Louis' hips forward in the process, but Louis wasn't going to complain. He wanted Harry to manhandle him.

Then Harry finally let Louis' fingers fall from his mouth. He didn't lick away the saliva on his lips as he said, "I want to almost finish you like this."

He didn't wait for Louis to reply, instead he used both his hands to roughly pull Louis' belt completely off. It fell to the floor, his gun and knives landing heavily.

Louis' trousers took a bit more work. Harry had to untie the drawstrings that held them together. Eventually he got it and he found it in himself to be delicate again. Painfully so. He glanced back up at Louis and then held his eyes. Slowly, he pulled Louis' trousers to his knees.

Louis' cock bounced heavily. Already thick and wet on the end.

As Harry let his eyes fall on it, Louis swore he could pinpoint the exact moment Harry lost his breath.

Harry simply looked at it for a moment. Whether he was afraid to touch it or merely taking it in, Louis wasn't at first sure. But his fears were torn up when Harry licked his lips and looked up to smile at him.

"You're gorgeous, darling," he purred. "How do you like it?"

"How- how do I like it?" Louis barely managed. He'd never been asked before. Not without coin involved.

"Mm," Harry hummed. "I want to please you so you feel good. I want to do what you dream of. Do you like it soft or hard? Deep? Do you like to be touched elsewhere as well?"

"I-" Louis breathed. He didn't know. He couldn't think. Instead, he could only feel hot flashes wash over his body as he thought of all the ways Harry could do this. He wanted them all. "What- what do you like?"

"What do I like when it's me, or what do I like to do with my mouth?"

"Both," Louis whispered. He couldn't help but hook his thumb over Harry's lip and stare as he smiled around it.

Harry lapped at his thumb and then pulled it away so he could answer. "When it's me, I like it teasing. I like to be kissed everywhere but on my cock until I can't take it, and then I like it soft at first and eventually harder, all the while you press fingers against me. Or into me. I like it to be overwhelming."

Louis' eyes fluttered as he imagined Harry twisting in the bed, hands balled into fists around the quilts, as he had mouths and fingers all over him. Louis' gut clenched and he shivered.

Harry liked seeing it. He smiled as Louis' squirmed. He hadn't even touched him yet.

"When it's others," Harry added once he caught Louis' eyes again, "I like to do whatever they love. I just like making them feel good. I can take my time and be gentle or you can fuck my mouth if you want."

Louis' shivered again at the mention of fuck and mouth , but it wasn't what he wanted. He wanted Harry to have his way with him, to do whatever he liked until Louis was a writhing mess.

He wanted to please Harry too.

"Do you like it rough, then?" Louis asked, voice wavering.

"Sometimes," Harry whispered. "If that's what you want."

Louis shook his head, "What do you want? Do you like being dominant or submissive or neither, or?"

"I like it all," Harry said, soft smile on his lips as he absentmindedly put his right hand around the base of Louis' cock. "I like to share."

Louis bit his lip and looked down at Harry. It was hard not to touch him when Harry had finally put his hands on him, so he clasped his hand to the base of Harry's head. He felt Harry's hair around his fingers and it was hard not to let it cloud his mind. His hair, somehow, was soft. Bouncy. As though the salt air had never touched it. But he managed, through the ecstasy of it all to push out another question.

"Do you like to fuck or be fucked?"

Harry started to slowly, lightly, move his hand up and down Louis' cock as he answered. His tone was easy. "I like how overwhelming my orgasms are when I'm fucked, but at some point I would love to see you feel that too. I want to see how pretty you are when I make you come from inside. If you want that."

Louis couldn't help it, he had to close his eyes and bite his lips to stop himself from coming right then and there. He wanted Harry to fuck him because he loved that feeling too, but as Harry just mentioned it, he would want to give that feeling to someone else and know it was because of him. He wanted to see Harry's hair splayed out, cheeks pink, lips red, as he came up his own stomach. He wanted to put Harry on his front, mirror in front of them, so he could see Harry press his face into the quilt and then throw it back in ecstasy. He wanted to see it all.

"Do you want me to fuck you, then?" Louis asked, finally opening his eyes again. "And you fuck me later?"

Harry didn't reply.

Instead, he opened his mouth and let his tongue lay flat over his lip as he drew Louis' cock into it. Louis had to let out a deep, shaky breath as Harry took him all the way in. It was so much better than when he had just his fingers in Harry's mouth. Now his warmth and wetness seemed to envelope Louis tenfold. His tongue felt softer.

Louis couldn't help but quiver and push his hips forward.

Harry didn't complain. He took him in happily, his eyes lazily half-shutting.

When it seemed Harry was satisfied that Louis had settled into the feeling of his mouth, he finally answered his question about being the first to be fucked with a low, hearty hum.

The vibrations of it sent shivers up Louis' skin and he grabbed Harry's hair a little tighter. His fingers caught on the threads of Harry's necklaces and Louis thought he'd very much like to give Harry a necklace of his own. A pearl one. Shiny and wet, to be wiped away with a finger and pressed to Harry's tongue.

Harry moved his head back into Louis' palm, mouth opening back up so only the tip of Louis' cock rested on his tongue. Then, almost moving his head against Louis' hand like a cat, he licked at Louis' tip, tongue swirling all around it and then focusing on the underside. Right where it was most sensitive.

Harry stayed like that for a while, purring against Louis as he happily licked at his tip, hands gently pulling him up and down as he did so. But soon it became apparent that Harry was pining too, that he needed some kind of relief. Not to come, but to be touched in any manner. And with his hands tied up, he couldn't stroke Louis and touch himself too. So he pulled Louis closer so his thigh went high up between his legs. Where he could grind up against him.

Louis could feel the thick line of Harry's cock in his trousers. It was so hard and so breathtaking. Louis wanted to feel it with his fingers, the palm of his hands, his tongue. He wanted to do to Harry exactly what Harry was doing to him.

As Harry rolled his hips against Louis, he pressed his mouth back down over the shaft of his cock, taking him in so Louis' tip touched the back of his throat. He started to move up and down rhythmically, taking Louis all the way in and then all the way out. As though Louis was slowly, softly fucking him. Louis could feel how Harry's mouth was getting wetter - he wasn't giving himself a moment to pull off and swallow back his spit. It seemed Harry didn't even need to breath, that his jaw didn't get sore either, and Louis wondered how often he'd done this, how often he used his mouth on men for so long they came down his throat with heaving breaths while Harry remained perfectly wet and content and staring up at them with glossy eyes.

Because Harry's eyes were glossy. Like he was feeling the strain of lapping at Louis so continuously, but that he didn't care all that much to do anything about it. He simply kept bobbing his head as the embers in Louis' gut flickered and grew. Grew so much he pressed his left hand to Harry's neck too. This one lower, further forwards, so his thumb rested against the edge of Harry's jaw and he could feel it move with every pull.

Harry pulled back again, this time taking his tongue completely away. And finally he swallowed and licked his lips.

"Tell me what you want," Harry said. His voice was low, husky, as though every delicious lick of Louis' cock wrecked him a little more.

"Keep going," was all Louis could manage. He didn't need to be teased, kissed and prodded like Harry had mentioned as being his own taste. Just the feeling of Harry touching Louis anywhere was enough to get him to the end.

That didn't stop Harry from using his hands too though. He pulled Louis' trousers right down so he could step out of them, and that's when Harry latched onto the inner of Louis' thigh. It was hard to explain just what it was that Harry was doing except to say that it sent waves through Louis that felt deep, like an itch being scratched. Neither soft nor painful, but perfectly firm and oh so unwinding.

First, Harry licked a stripe up Louis' cock. Relaxed and confident. Then, he moved his tongue to Louis' balls, pressing his nose into the small thicket of Louis' pubic hair as he lapped at them. And then finally his fingers came to press into Louis' perineum. Immediately, it turned Louis into a shuddering mess. He'd never been touched like this before. It was like Harry was teasing before he would inevitably rub Louis' arsehole instead, but there was nothing half-way about this feeling. It was all-consuming on its own, and Louis wasn't sure he'd survive Harry fingering him at all after it.

He couldn't help but flinch and thrust forwards, pushing his cock into Harry's awaiting mouth. He took him gladly, sucking hard on him as Louis' legs half gave out and rocked back and forwards.

Harry hummed delightfully around him and then, awfully, took his hands from Louis' skin. He gave Louis one final firm suck and then fell back onto the bed as he popped off.

"Louis," he said, voice somehow more gravelly than it was before. "Help me."

He motioned towards the ties of his own trousers and Louis was more than happy to oblige. Especially if it meant Harry might use his fingers again.

Louis tried to untie Harry's trousers quickly but the bastard had done them in a double knot and Louis' fingers were flustered, flighty. He could feel thunder, lightning, rolling along them.

"Fuck," he hissed under his breath. Harry's cock was right there, he could see it pressing harshly against the leather of his trousers, and the feeling of not being able to get to it was hellish.

Harry looked down at him and breathed out, "Cut it."

"Cut it?"

"Yeah, cut it. Get your fucking knife and cut it."

"I- You-" Louis stammered, brain kicking out of gear at the thought of slashing those blasted trousers away from Harry, away from Louis getting his hands all over him.

Louis quickly reached down to his belt on the floor and produced the tiny dagger he'd had to Harry's throat the night before. And, to be honest, Louis wasn't sure he could do this. His hands weren't steady. He had so much fire pulsing through his blood that his shaky hands surely wouldn't let up.

But Harry was looking up at him like there was absolutely no other option.

So Louis cut away at Harry's trousers. He split apart the drawstrings and then cut lines down from his waistband, and by some stroke of luck, Louis was able to get them off.

Harry's cock was breathtaking. And daunting.

By all accounts, Louis knew that he himself was packing a fair amount of arsenal. He knew what it was like to have to take longer to prepare his partners, to coax them into fucking him when they seemed a little too intimidated. But Harry. Harry was taller than Louis, broader too, and his cock was much the same. Louis knew he could fit both of his hands on it, and then still have enough room to lick the head of his penis.

He knew, because that's what he did. He wrapped both hands around Harry's cock selfishly and licked a hungry stripe over the tip of his cock. Harry had said he liked to be teased, liked to be lead on a winding road to his orgasm, but Louis couldn't help himself. They'd both just endured enough playing around already, Louis' in Harry's mouth and Harry against Louis' thigh.

Louis still made sure to quickly pull away and whisper, "I promise I'll give you a proper one, but can I be selfish now? I just want you in my mouth. I just want you to fill me. I just want you ."

Harry half smiled and he almost looked delirious because Louis wasted no time in returning his mouth, his throat, to Harry's cock. Louis took him in completely and savoured the way it slid up his tongue into the back of his throat as Harry finally managed to say, "I want you to fill me too."

Louis swirled his tongue as he bobbed his head back up to the head of his cock as Harry then added, "I want you to fuck me, please."

The please came out as a whine.

So Louis went to do just that. He kept sucking deeply as he reached up and pressed his fingers back into Harry's mouth, where Harry licked them generously and gave him enough saliva to put his fingers down between Harry's thighs. Harry lifted his knees so that Louis could get towards his hole.

He was warm back there. It was the first thing Louis noticed besides the throb it sent through his own cock to be touching Harry between his arse checks. The next thing he noticed was how Harry fluttered beneath him as he gently pressed a wet finger against his hole. His whole body fluttered. His back momentarily left the bed and his head turned into it and his hands grabbed the quilt next to him.

A small guttural sound escaped him, stilted and whining.

Louis smiled over the tip of Harry's cock as he watched him, moving his fingers a little more so another sound would escape him.

He hoped Liam wasn't next door.

Slowly, as Louis continued to go down on Harry like it was the only thing keeping him alive, he gently pushed his middle finger up into him. So slowly that Louis could feel his hole flutter and clench with every millimetre.

Harry whined and Louis didn't know him well enough to know if it was good or bad, so he slowed the press of his fingers and loosened the hollow of his cheeks.

That only made Harry whine more.

And push himself down onto Louis' fingers, into his mouth.

Louis' skin shivered as he felt Harry's cock push into the back of his throat. His eyelashes fluttered as he felt Harry's silky hole slide down to his second knuckle.

Then he felt Harry shiver too as he came up against the bump in Louis' finger, a sparking fizz that made him breathe shakily and writhe in the bed.

Louis pressed into him more, turning his finger softly as he swirled his tongue in tandem. Then he pulled out with a heartier twist, smooth and confident, and he had to actually lift his mouth away from Harry's cock altogether to cope with the perfect jolt it sent through Harry's spine.

Louis replaced his mouth with the free hand he had so he could placate the throb of Harry's cock while he focused on his hole. He gently pulled up and down, stroking too with his thumb, as he pushed his finger back in.

With each push and pull, his hands moving in time, Louis grew faster, less delicate with his fingers. And with each movement, Harry came apart even more.

He was beautiful, lying there in the bed with his hands tied and his eyes glossy. And Louis wanted to look like that too, he wanted to be held down to the bed by the sheer fact that his hole would be too overwhelmed to move.

But Louis wouldn't ask to switch, because it did just as much for him to see Harry play that part too. Louis would quite happily never be fucked again if it meant making Harry this beautiful, this happy.

He was whining still beneath him, whimpers turning into breathy moans. He'd started rolling his hips with every thrust of Louis' finger.

Louis decided to add another.

His index finger.

He slowed his rhythm and tentatively added the second finger. Harry didn't even seem to notice, he just kept rolling his hips and breathing his low, shaky moans.

"More," Harry managed, voice breaking.

And though his voice didn't sound like he could take it, his words and his hips were enough.

So Louis pressed his fingers downwards, against the tight edge of Harry's hole where he could hope to give him more, widen him up enough. He moved his fingers in circles, and Harry let out a proper, decent moan and strained against his cuffs.

Louis shakily hushed him with a breathy smile and continued his twirling.

Harry replied with another moan, slightly quieter than the last but not by much. Then he pushed out a, "I want you in- in me."

"Are you sure?" Louis whispered to him.

Harry nodded and stuttered, "Ye- yes- now."

So Louis removed his fingers, planted a wet kiss to the edge of Harry's knee and stood up to race to his wooden chest. It was there that he kept a small corked bottle of oil. As soon as he got back to the bed, Louis jumped into the middle of it and tugged around Harry's legs so the bedpost and his hands were above his head and his legs were bent around either side of Louis' hips.

The chessboard and pieces fell to the ground as Harry was yanked around, though neither of them took much notice. They were too busy grinning at each other. Louis' chest was aflutter and his skin was hot, because this was already so great, so fun. They could please each other and it would be honest, guttural, wanting, and playful too. Harry was biting his lip and smiling up at him, like he was finally getting the one thing he'd wanted this whole time.

As though this was never about power or celebrity or the taking of Louis' ship, and instead it was about taking his cock.

As though Harry had done everything in his power to be tied up and splayed out, waiting to be filled up.

Louis winked at Harry and earned back a giggle. Then he softly slapped the side of Harry's hip and asked, genuinely, "Are you ready, darling Harry?"

"Yes, darling ," he replied.

And then Harry winked back.

Louis pulled the cork out of the bottle with a pop and he felt his heart pop too. This was about to happen, for real , and he knew already it would be better than any image he could conjure up in his mind.

"I have one requirement, though," Harry added as Louis sat back onto his knees and spilled oil onto his fingers.

"Mm?" Louis hummed, glancing up quickly.

"I'll tell you when you're in me," Harry grinned, shifting so he was more available, his knees wider apart.

Louis grinned to himself, smile tucked into his chin as he reached to his bedside table to safely leave the open bottle and cork. He came back to Harry and smoothed the oil over his own cock. He let his eyes flit from his fingers over his cock to the crease of Harry's arse to his eyes, green and narrow and watching Louis intently.

Louis let his eyes stay on Harry's as he wiped the last of the oil down into the space between Harry's legs. He smiled as Harry's eyes had to leave his, had to close so that he could take a breath.

Then, finally, Louis leaned down over Harry's torso so their faces were centimetres apart, his elbow propped up on the bed next to Harry's head. And he pushed himself in.

A hot wave of air rushed over Louis as his cock slid into Harry. It was completely overwhelming and he had to go slowly just to stop himself from coming.

Harry, underneath, had his eyes pointed up to his brows. His eyelids were fluttering and so was his hole. Louis could feel it so intensely.

He felt white hot, as white as the skin around Harry's wrists as he pulled against his restraints. He was gripping them like they were ropes to the lifeboat and he was drowning, so Louis slowed right down and took his hand from his cock so he could delicately brush the hair from Harry's forehead.

Harry said he liked to be overwhelmed, but Louis still wanted to make sure he wasn't actually going to hurt him.

Harry simply muttered, "All the way."

So Louis slowly, carefully pressed himself the rest of the way in.

Then, when finally the brush of Louis' pubic hair was flattened against Harry's arse cheeks, Harry was able to breath out again. He sounded like he'd been holding it in. He looked up at Louis and whispered, "My requirement."

"What is it?" Louis smiled down at him, not ignoring the way his own fringe brushed against Harry's brow. They were so close. Harry's face was cast in shadow from Louis'. His eyes seemed so wide this close up, so bright. Louis could see how the capillaries in his cheeks had turned pink, how he'd gotten so flushed.

Harry blinked once up at him and whispered, "Can you please kiss me?"

Louis let out his own flushed smile and wondered how it was that they hadn't already. It seemed like the first thing they should have done. They should have grabbed each other's faces and pulled the other in harshly, sucking on their lips like they were parched. Like they knew nothing but the craving of lips against lips, tongues against tongues.

But that's not how they kissed now.

Instead, Louis bit his lip and nodded. Then he gently closed the few breaths between them and lay his lips against Harry's. They both smiled into it, lips smoothing out flat for a moment before Louis softened his again and pulled Harry's lips between his.

Louis kissed Harry slowly but wantingly, letting their lips move together like rolling waves. It didn't take long for their tongues to meet like the tide, a meandering in and out, a soft swipe. Harry tasted like licorice, just as Louis had suspected, and the earthy taste flattered him. It made him taste grounded, like an anchor, and Louis was not going to let go.

He let his hands make their way up to Harry's hands, clasping both of them between each of his. Harry grabbed his hands back, squeezing on them until Louis finally gave a tentative thrust of his hips. It was a gentle, exploratory one, and Louis' knees would have buckled beneath him if the underside of Harry's thighs weren't pressed up against him.

So, instead, he clasped Harry's hands tighter and kissed him deeper.

Louis thrusted into Harry slowly; prolonged so that the passion wasn't lost on them. So that Louis could focus on the hands in his as much as the skin around him.

Despite the cuffs and the belt and the bedpost, and all the conversations that had come before this, it didn't just feel like fucking. There was something more there, something easy, something that felt like they'd done this a million times before and yet like every time would feel like the first.

Louis' gut was in tight coils as he kissed and thrusted into Harry, building on his momentum so he could bite Harry's lips and start to bounce against his thighs. They began to move so happily, so rapidly, that Louis found himself thankful that he was on the ship and that no one would suspect anything more than the hull breaking shallow waves. Surely, if someone were to hold their ear to their door, they would assume that the slap of skin against skin were merely the rhythmic tap of Louis pacing the room.

The moans were a touch less inconspicuous.

Harry had started to breath out low moans and Louis had to pull back his lips so Harry could let them out most deliciously. Even Louis couldn't help but cough up a few stilted moans, catching in his chest as his hips met Harry's thighs.

He leaned back then, delighting in the sight and sound of Harry coming undone beneath him, and brought one hand to Harry's leg and the other to his cock. He stroked him up and down and immediately Harry arched his back from the bed.

"I- I'm gonna-" Harry stuttered, lips as wet as his eyes. "Are you close?"

Louis couldn't reply because he was. Harry's hair lay in a soft halo around his head and his kissed, bitten lips were puffy and slick. His cock was hot and heavy in Louis' hand and the tight grip of Harry's arse was enough to know that if Harry came, Louis would too. He was moments away.

So he half-nodded and slid his hand up Harry's cock a little faster, rougher. He wanted Harry to come. He wanted to feel the ball of white fire build in Harry's hole and spurt out in glistening streams, melting into the pearls along his necklaces.

Harry pulled hard on the restraints around his wrists and Louis almost worried about him cutting his rope burns but Harry didn't give him the chance. He let out a spluttering moan as he threw back his head and the belt around the bedpost cracked as he yanked down on it with a strangled, " Fuck ."

And then Harry came.

Louis felt like he blacked out, the feeling was so intense. The clench of Harry's hole, the throbbing pulse of Harry's cock, the explicit snap of Harry's voice. It hit Louis like a tidal wave, dark and ferocious. Delicious. As though the heat of Harry's orgasm washed right out of him all at once and shot right into Louis' gut. Louis couldn't help it, he couldn't control himself. He couldn't let the sight of Harry's face burn delightfully into his memory. All he could do was close his eyes and let Harry's orgasm meet his, and take him out to sea and drown him in the swirling foam of his ecstasy.

Louis' body shuddered as he came into Harry, barely a second after Harry convulsed beneath him. Then he fell to Harry's chest, heaving and too spent to care about the come up Harry's shirt. It would seep into Louis' beloved black shirt and stain it with new, dangerous memories and all Louis could focus on was the way Harry was breathing hard against him.

They lay there for a few moments, simply feeling their heatbearts pulse hard and in time with each other. Louis could lie there for eternity but soon the feeling of his cock still in Harry's hole became too overwhelming. He was too sensitive to the touch, which was nice with Harry's warm skin against his cheek, but unbearable for his spent cock. Begrudgingly, Louis shifted his hips to slip himself out and then there, as cool relief washed over him, he collapsed back onto Harry contentedly.