Author: Mosh Note: You may not archive, re-post, or alter any of my stories without my permission. Please contact me first. Thanks! |
"Daaarling... George... Wake up..." George winced and attempted to roll over. However, he couldn't - something was preventing him from moving. He wondered if he was perhaps dreaming. He opened his eyes and a blurry, dimly lit room came into view. His spectacles were gone, and he couldn't make out where he was, although it certainly wasn't the master bedroom at the Darling family home where he'd fallen asleep. His arms and legs ached, as if he'd been in the same position for days. He tried once again to move, but there was something pinning his wrists above his head. Against wood? He couldn't think straight; his head was throbbing, though he couldn't remember having anything to drink the night before - not even the usual glass of sherry that accompanied the nightly cigarette his wife allowed him. He tried to think back; he'd finished reading the paper around eleven o'clock. His wife had been darning one of John's socks the chair by the fire, so he'd gone upstairs to bed first. The window in the bedroom had been wide open when he'd stepped into the cold room and then... something heavy had landed across the back of his skull! He lifted his head slightly, squinting into the murky room. It was a small, wood-panelled cabin, with rows of empty shelves along the walls, a large wooden chest on the floor beside an open fireplace, and large, intricate stained glass windows along one side, through which the first weak rays of the sunrise fell onto the floorboards. It was odd, but the room seemed vaguely familiar. "How are you feeling?" That voice. George turned his head sharply to the side, not quite believing what he was hearing. It couldn't be... Impossible. Captain James Hook - sitting in a nearby blood- red coloured armchair, sporting nothing but a loose, open shirt and black breeches - was lazily scraping dirt from the fingernails of one hand with the sharp tip of the iron hook that replaced the other. "It's been a long time, hasn't it?" he said lowly, not looking up. George could do nothing but gape, quite sure that he was, in fact, dreaming. He had to be. James's brows furrowed slightly as he picked at his nails, his bottom lip drawn back behind his teeth at one side, long, thick hair hanging over his shoulders. Quite the pirate. His skin was weathered brown from so much time spent out on the open sea. He hadn't changed a bit. "What on earth... what?" George stammered. But memories had already begun to creep into his mind, and, he realised, it was possible that he wasn't dreaming this. "James? How did you f-find me? Untie me!" He tried to twist his arms so that he could pull his hands free from the bonds that held him down, but the ropes were tied too tight. James raised his hand to have a closer look at his fingernails, ignoring George's feeble struggling. "Much better," he purred. "Oh, by the way, I've had the pleasure of meeting your daughter. She's truly delightful. Of course, we both know who she gets that from." He smiled, finally looking over to where George lay naked and tied to the large wooden table in James's cabin. "You... don't you d-dare touch her! Let me go, James!" "Tut tut, George, that's no way to greet an old friend, now is it?" James's smile didn't falter, though it conveyed no happiness. He rose from the chair slowly, sauntering over to the table, his parchment coloured shirt open and ghosting around his body as he moved. He bent low, face inches from George‘s own. "Do you remember how young you were when we last saw each other?" His eyes dragged down across George's body, lingered on his groin, and then slowly drew back up to his face. "You still look well, though, I'm not sure about the short hair - it doesn't suit you." George could smell gin and the faint hint of tobacco on James's breath. Yes, he was remembering. He wondered how he had ever forgotten in the first place. Something hard and cold press down against his stomach suddenly, and he flinched. "Oh, that's the spirit," James said, beginning to trace a languid line down over George's abdomen with the flat edge of his hook. "James stop. This... what do you think you're doing? Stop! I have to go home. I can't be here again!" James snaked his tongue out quickly, licking along George's open mouth to silence him. Once satisfied, he snapped his teeth together with a 'click', extracting another flinch from his hostage. "You don't want this?" he whispered. Before George could reply a hot tongue was thrust into his mouth and began sliding against his own, the taste all too heady and familiar. The hook traced lazy circles around one hipbone, before sliding coldly across George's skin to the other. It was all George could do to stop himself from moaning. He struggled his mouth away. "James, I don't want this! We... you can't do this again. Not now." James - poised mere inches away from George's face - grinned slowly, baring his teeth like an animal. "Well, that just won't do," he hissed. "Let us see how much you don’t want this, shall we?" He stepped back, beginning to undress, eyes never leaving George's as he slipped his shirt down over his shoulders and arms with a faint 'hiss' of fabric against skin. George remarked the other's body in the soft firelight as if for the first time, although it most certainly wasn't the first time he'd seen it. He noted a few new scars across the man's chest, long and silver-coloured from where they'd healed and faded over time. There was also a slight weight loss around the pirate's stomach - he was no longer the broad-chested, stocky man that he used to be, but now lean and slightly sinewy. Though his arms were still strong-looking, with a smooth curve of muscles under the skin and more over his shoulders. George closed his eyes, severing his train of thought as James unhooked the gold clasps on his black breeches in an unhurried, arrogant manner. George licked his lips, though his throat was so dry that his voice sounded croaky when he spoke. "Why did you search for me? Was it because of Wendy?" He heard the rustle of fabric as James slid his breeches down over his thighs and kicked them off onto the floor. "But of course!" James said. "Who would have thought - for your very own daughter to find her way here? How could her visit have not sparked a few memories? And Pan, well, apart from sending me over the edge of my own ship to my doom, I should perhaps thank the boy. After all, it was because of him that I found you. And if he weren't such a cocky young scoundrel, I might well have died at the claws of that crocodile. My loss to Pan was the making of my victory over the creature that took my hand from me so many years ago. I suppose the boy thought that a pirate only carries one weapon on his person... the young fool.” He let out a bark of laughter, though there was no humour in it. George opened his eyes a little, and saw James standing naked beside the table with a slight curl at one side of his mouth. "What are you talking about?" George said through clenched teeth, ignoring the rush of blood to his groin. It was obvious, by this time, that James was planning on re-living the past. To his dismay, no matter how hard he tried, George couldn't fight off the stirring excitement he felt in his gut. James drew closer in an almost predatory manner, like an animal stalking its prey. His eyes were wide - forget-me-not coloured irises large and striking - as he stared down at George's hardening cock. "Let me tell you, then, of my recent brush with death," he said, though the curl at the sides of his lips faded quickly. When he next spoke, his voice was dangerously low. "I'm talking about how Pan sent me over the edge of my ship straight into the jaws of the crocodile that's haunted my dreams since it took my hand all those years ago. Do you not remember me telling you how I came to sport this?" He brandished his hook above George's face. "I believe it was one of the first things you asked me when fortune and fairy dust brought you here almost twenty years ago." "Yes," George whispered. "You once told me that the boy had cut off your arm, not that the crocodile had taken it." He did remember being utterly fascinated by Captain James Hook when they had first met, and, he realised, had it not been for the fairy that he’d found trapped in his father’s old drinks cabinet back at his parent’s house in London, he would never have discovered Neverland at all. He wouldn't have ended up in this situation, either. A large part of him had always wished he’d just let the damn creature go, or killed it - but the drunken fairy had whispered of pirates, quests for gold, life on the open waves, mermaids and fun... who in their right mind could have resisted? James climbed up onto the table, straddling George's hips, though refrained from acknowledging his erection. George struggled again, hopelessly trying for either freedom or sensation, preferably the latter, but was stilled when James thumped his hook down on the table, embedding it into the wood next to his ear. "Pan did cut off my arm," he spat. "He then proceeded to throw it to the crocodile, thus giving it an unquenchable thirst for my blood. The creature had been hunting me ever since that day, though the tick-tocking of the clock in its stomach always signalled its approach." James's brow wrinkled in the middle. When he spoke again his voice was quieter, distant. "Though, I no longer have to fear the day that clock stops ticking and the filthy beast silently closes in on me. For it is now dead, and I am very much victorious." That's all very well, George thought, but no matter how many times James Hook triumphed, he'd always be lonely. It was loneliness that was now etched in the small lines around his eyes, making him seem almost vulnerable. "How did you kill it?" George said. “And why on earth have you brought me back here?” James pulled his hook out of the table, sitting back slightly. He stared ahead out of the windows as the light strained to shine through the coloured glass. "It swallowed me whole, luckily. What that vile creature didn't count on was me clinging to the inside of its throat with my hook." He winced, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "I had to cut myself out of the crocodiles throat with nothing but a knife. A very small knife," he spat. "Once I'd cut through its putrid flesh, I had to swim to safety. Well, needless to say I was exhausted... do you have any idea how long it took me to hack my way out of that monster's body? It was like trying to cut through new leather, tough, sturdy, resilient. But I did not give up - even when water began pouring in, straight down its wide throat - because I was almost free." James stopped, chewing his bottom lip contemplatively for a short while. "So," he continued. "I swam, and swam for what felt like days. At times I thought my strength might fail me and I'd end up sinking to the bottom of the sea, but I kept swimming until I finally reached land. I dragged myself back to the bay where my ship awaited the return of her Captain... back to where my crew had already proceeded to loot my quarters and scarper with my possessions. The braggarts!" James looked down at George, his brows furrowed. "Why have I brought you here, you ask? I have no answer for you George. Perhaps I need to be reminded of better times." "Still just a lonely pirate," George said quietly. "You had the option to leave this place many years ago. I gave you the option. But you refused adamantly. You have no one to blame but yourself." James glared down at him. "I am a Captain and I would die for my ship! I would not abandon her! What you asked of me back then was unfair, George. You were going back to grow up, to start a family, and where would that have left me? I doubt you even meant it. You teased me!" "I did nothing of the sort," George said, his temper rising. "I asked you to go back with me so we could... so that you could at least see if it would work out... but you refused. I had no choice in the matter. I couldn't stay here forever. I wasn't teasing you, Jas, I wanted you to go with me and you know it-" He stopped when James took in a sharp breath. Then he realised. A strange expression fleeted across the pirate's handsome, aristocratic face. George could have sworn it had been sadness. Not the brooding melancholy that he remembered so well, but genuine, regretful sadness. He felt suddenly awkward, inwardly cursing himself for letting the nickname slip. James leaned down slowly, pressing himself against George, who could feel his old lover's erection digging into his stomach, warm, hard and familiar. He swallowed his moan defiantly. James pressed the tip of his hook against his prisoner's armpit, dragging it up along the pale skin, all the way to George's restrained wrist. "You used my old nickname. You remember it," he said quietly. “Ah... of course I do," George said. "I gave it to you... ah, stop that.” He shuddered as the hook trailed back down the underside of his arm, forcefully resisting the urge to buck his hips up against James. James smiled. “That you did. And what did I give to you in return? Hm... I wonder if it’s still there...” He slithered down across George’s body, pointedly ignoring his straining cock, before pushing his legs apart. George couldn’t stifle a frustrated moan as James ran his fingertips across his inner thigh. “Oh, yes, there it is - I wonder how you explained this away after you were married, old chap. Did she cry when you told her that it was a gift from an old lover?” He laughed triumphantly. George suddenly felt a hot tongue brush across the intricate scar on his leg, still as sensitive as the night he had received it. James laughed again at the impatient moan that escaped into the quiet. “Did she beg you to tell her who this J. H. was?" the pirate crooned, lips still pressed feather-light against George's thigh. "Did she scream at the thought of you being branded for life in someone else's name?” George banged his head down against the table, trying to stop himself from releasing the plead that was burning his mouth - he wasn't going to beg for more. “You bastard,” he whispered through tight lips. “Stop it, I'm warning you.” But as he heard his own voice, he realised how hollow his warning was. He slumped, still not ready to give in, but at a loss for another option. An annoying part of him teased about how much he used to love the powerlessness of being tied down like this. He squirmed again, unsatisfied - his body near-painfully reminding him that he needed to be touched, oh God, please, soon. James sighed heavily, sitting up. “Very well," he said. "Now, where to start... hm, well, since you won’t be going anywhere any time soon, I think a little reminder might loosen you up a bit. You really have become a stiff old prude over the years.” He allowed a long pause before moving, dragging out the anticipation until finally, George felt the pirate's hair fall softly around his hips and stomach. George tensed, then felt a long, hot breath ghost along his rigid cock. He opened his mouth wide, taking in a ragged lungful of air that seemed to ring in the silence of the cabin. So close. He waited, but James didn't move. George released a frustrated growl, smacking his head down against the table again. "Damn you!" he snapped, desperate for contact - even another breath would suffice - but James still did not move. The air seemed to twist and close in on George, gradually growing hotter and heavier, as if from the onset of a thunderstorm. George could feel beads of sweat running across his forehead, tracking pathways of liquid heat down his cheeks and neck. He bit his lip hard, trying to arch himself up off of the table and into the mouth that he knew was hovered mere inches from his cock. "James!" he shouted, the tension in his balls peaking as he tried to drag himself to the edge of orgasm through sheer will power alone. "Oh no you don't," James hissed. He wrapped his fingers tightly around the base of George's straining cock, squeezing so hard that he was prevented from his release. George screamed with a mixture of pain and desperation, the sound of his voice so loud that a faint echo rippled around the bay outside once he'd stopped. James laughed dryly. "Yes, do it again, scream again," he prompted, squeezing harder. "JAMES! DAMN YOU!" George yelled, smacking his head against the table a third time. The pirate bent down, flicked his tongue over the head of George's cock, and then pulled back with a grin. "Are you sure," James crooned, pressing the cold edge of his hook against George's balls, "that you wouldn't just prefer me to cut it off altogether?" George screamed again, and kept screaming until it felt like his throat was on fire, the vice-like grip unbearable. James waited patiently, seeming to savour his prisoner's frustrated need. "Please," George moaned, unable to bite it back. The restricting fingers slowly released him, stroking all the way up his cock, hard. George choked out a hoarse cry as he came, hips bucking, hot seed covering his stomach as he rolled through it in blessed agony. He slumped back down onto the table with an almost pained whine. "Marvellous," James said, swirling his fingers across George's stomach after his body had gone limp. "Did that feel good? Would you like more?" George felt the metal hook dig into the top of his leg. He pursed his lips together, head still spinning. "Would you like me to fill you up, just like old times? Here, bend your knees for me... George? Are you paying attention?" George tried to gather his thoughts and slow his breathing, but was having difficulty. Eventually James grew impatient. "George, am I going to have to teach you about cooperation?" He reached forwards with his hand, scraping up as much of the come from George's stomach as possible, before slicking it over his own erection. George watched through half-lidded eyes as James stroked himself, his chest shining with sweat, heaving. The pirate released his cock, letting out an almost inaudible moan. "This, personally, is my favourite part," he said, voice deep and rich. George tensed when he felt the tips of two moist fingers pushing against his arse, aware enough to know that James wouldn't waste any time preparing him. As James pushed his fingers through the tight ring of muscle, he simultaneously pressed the tip of his hook down against George's stomach, scraping a shallow, stinging cut around his navel, eliciting a yell that wasn't as pained as it perhaps should have been. George raised his hips slightly, trying to find comfort around the lubricated fingers that were being forced into his body. "More..." he whispered, already resigned to the fact that he did indeed remember this, and desperately wanted more of it. James grinned, sliding his fingers in the rest of the way, then drawing them out without hesitation. He raised one fine, dark eyebrow at George, before tapping his leg. "Raise your hips further," he ordered softly, though his eyes betrayed his voice and showed nothing but barely contained lust. George pushed his hips into the air, his heart racing - he knew what to expect. He wanted it. James moved forwards, positioning himself. He took hold of one pale thigh for balance, leaning over George. "Look at me." George opened his eyes, not having realised he'd closed them in the first place. He felt James's thick cock forcing its way into his body as the pirate rocked against him, inch by painful inch. George winced, but James didn't acknowledge it; instead he pushed harder. "Oh yes, still so tight, relax...oh..." As if his restraint snapped, James slid in the rest of the way with a shout - which was echoed by a cry from the man beneath him - and then paused, panting heavily. "Beg me... go on... beg..." he growled. George tried to move, pushing down onto James's length, but the hook came down against his groin, dangerously close to his rapidly hardening cock. He froze. "Ah! Just move, damn you!" He was only met with another irritating smirk. "James, do it! Move... I want you to move... p-please!" "How could I resist you?" James moaned, rocking his hips slowly at first, eyes never breaking contact with George's. It hurt; George's arms screamed with pain, muscles and joints frozen awkwardly as the rest of his body swayed in time to the pirate's steady rhythm. He wrapped his legs around James's hips, trying to meet his deep thrusts comfortably, but James quickly lost pace, his hips bucking between George's thighs harder, without mercy. All George could feel were stabs of white-hot pain followed by fierce ripples of pleasure as he was taken over and over again - James's hair fell around his shoulders, tickling, confusing his senses; he cried out hoarsely, not sure if he'd begged for it to stop or begged for it harder. James threw his head back, staring down at George with feral want, two small red dots shining in the centre of his eyes, making him look almost demonic. He groaned, dragging the tip of his hook down across George's ribs, one by one, before pressing down into the soft flesh of his stomach. He jerked his hips, driving his cock deep into George's arse and drawing a quick, shallow gash across his stomach instantly. George screamed, slamming himself down onto James's length. "PLEASE!" "This... is for... your... wife," James growled through his teeth, fucking George relentlessly. He drew the tip of his hook in a small arch over George's skin, deepening the fresh cut and giving it shape. "AH!" George felt his world spiralling; his cock now hard again, rubbing damply against James's stomach as he moved. His whole body ached, tearing him from pain one minute to pleasure the next. He managed to look down, neck screaming as he lifted his head, to see the hook dancing across his numbing skin, and James's body rocking against him. He cried out, clenching around James' length. The iron hook was marking its territory once again. George tensed, coming in bursts across his stomach for the second time. James groaned, rounding up the final cut, done. He thrust forwards hard, grazing George across the harsh wooden table as he emptied himself, hook poised over his lover's stomach, blood covering the tip. George managed to sob an exhausted moan, before numbing darkness claimed him.
* * * * * * * * * *
"Daaarling... George... Wake up..." So, it had been real then, George thought, as he groggily came to. His whole body hurt; back and shoulders red raw, thighs aching, and the once smooth skin on his stomach stinging. He took in a deep, shaking breath, almost certain he could still feel James inside him. Something thin pressed against both sides of his face. He opened his eyes. James was staring down from above, pushing his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. Something was different... his arms weren't tied up anymore, though they were pricking with pins and needles as the circulation kicked back into action. "H-how long have I been out?" George said, hearing his own voice as a dull croak. James shrugged. "Oh, I'd say about half an hour." The pirate surveyed George for a while. "Hang on." He left briefly, returning with a damp cloth. He wiped the dried blood from George's skin with an almost comical gentleness. "Look at this," James whispered, stepping back to admire his work. George raised himself up onto his elbows with a wince, staring down at the dark letters engraved on his stomach. JAS James grinned, throwing the blood stained cloth onto the floor. He climbed back onto the table, draping his arm across George as he relaxed down next to him. "Now tell me you didn't miss that," he whispered. George couldn't. But he couldn't say it out loud either. "Now tell me how you found my home," he croaked, feeling that he at least deserved that much. He felt a sigh against his shoulder. "Look, over there, in that jar." James pointed across the cabin towards the mantle. George looked, and there, trapped in a very small jar, was a fairy, slumped down against the glass. It looked half-dead. "I caught it in the forest. The stupid thing didn't have a clue until it was too late," James murmured. "I asked it if it knew the fairy Tinkerbell - the very fairy that had followed Pan to your house, and, lucky for me, it did. It also knew the way. You know that all that's needed to fly is fairy dust and happy thoughts. So simple, isn't it? Well, I had the fairy... all I needed was a happy thought." George smiled grimly. "James, you've never had happy thoughts." James ignored him. "Well, I did have a happy thought. Just the one. Can you guess what it was?" George closed his eyes, quite sure he knew. He couldn't give James Hook companionship. He just couldn't. There was no way he could stay in Neverland. He wasn't even sure if there was a part of him that wanted to stay. Was there? No. "James-" he began. "It was you." And for some reason, those three words restricted his movement better than any rope or bond on the island could have done. ~Fin~ |
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