2. Only One Hammock

2. Only One Hammock

Hakan had selected Free Breezes – well, because it was available, but also because it was a small boat, which meant he could pilot it single-handedly.

It was a mixed blessing that when the crew was two tall, broad men, the chebec became very small indeed.

Captain had left him in charge of the tiller and taken responsibility for trimming the sails, raising a second to give them an extra boost since the winds were only middling. Doing so seemed to require the man to pace around the deck constantly, crossing Hakan's field of vision repeatedly. When the sight of his broad shoulders and powerful forearms raised inconvenient stirrings in Hakan's nether regions, he'd attempted to keep his gaze either on the horizon or the deck. That had left him receiving repeated glimpses of Captain's bare feet as he padded over the planks. Hakan hadn't realised he had any sort of a foot fetish until this moment, but he found himself drifting on pleasant reveries of stroking those strong feet; running a finger teasingly along the arch to be rewarded with a flinch; pressing kisses to the neat toes.

He shook his head and returned his gaze to the horizon. Yes, the man was attractive. Under other circumstances, Hakan would welcome him as a bedmate. But as things stood, Hakan would wait until the strongest heat of Captain's ire had passed ("hate" and "loathe" echoed in his head, stinging even though he never usually cared about being liked) before proposing intimacy. Also, they were on route to Crescent Island, a journey of less than a day which would require someone to pay attention to their course the whole time. There was no opportunity to act on his desires, no matter how much he might wish to get hot and sweaty with his Captain.

It was a symptom of his new freedom, Hakan decided. He was anticipating his first fuck as a free man. But that wouldn't be with Captain. He'd find someone lusty and willing on Crescent Island; the Dirty Dog was sure to offer what he needed. Until then, he just needed to stop drooling over his handsome, sullen crewmate.

He set his attention on the horizon once more, determined it would at least be a few minutes before it strayed.

An hour into their journey they travelled beyond sight of the shore. A little later, dusk closed around them. A hazy mist obscured the sky, and the first oddity hit.

"Where's your compass?" Hakan asked Captain when he could find no trace of stars. The mist would hopefully blow over, but perhaps it wouldn't.

"What?" He turned with a puzzled scowl.

"Your compass." He gestured to the darkness pressing on all sides. "I haven't brought one of my own." His entire worldly goods currently consisted of a clean shirt and a couple of pairs of underwear in a tiny satchel, along with fourpence in copper coins. He couldn't wait for his arrival at Crescent Island. Securing a blade and some silver was possibly even more important than securing a fuck.

Captain continued to stare. "You need a compass?"

It was Hakan's turn for puzzlement. "Ye-es." He gestured again, wondering if Captain had managed not to notice the darkness. "I can't make out anything in this fog."

Captain glanced around. His expression cleared. "Ah. And you need a device to tell you where North is."

Hakan's frown deepened. He had the sense he was being made fun of – except that Captain had given absolutely no evidence of levity so far. "It would help if we're not to go astray," he replied.

Captain clicked his tongue. "I'd forgotten how limited you people are." Hakan was about to ask what in God's name he meant by that insult, when Captain stood straight, every inch of the man demanding attention. "North," he pointed with unerring confidence. "East, South, West." He pivoted to pinpoint each direction, then ended facing Hakan once more. "For Crescent Island we need an East-North-Easterly heading." He sliced a hand in – presumably – that direction. "We're on course. I'll warn you if we stray, shall I?"

"If there's no compass, you'll have to." Hakan's tone was sharper than he liked. He felt somehow diminished by Captain's eccentric ability. He'd never heard of a person able to ascertain compass points with neither sun nor stars to aid them. He settled back, determined to ignore his needling crewmate.

Lulled by the waves and the darkness, Hakan was soon yawning. He'd been busy in the hours prior to his release and his body demanded its rest now. "You should sleep," Captain told him. "I'll take night watch."

Hakan wanted to object, but Captain was unfortunately the better sailor while the mist persisted. "Very well." He stood, stretched the kinks from his back and took one step towards the covered area of the boat. "Shall I share your hammock?" he spoke with a grin, the teasing words out of his mouth before he even considered holding them back. They wouldn't be sharing the way he liked best, but maybe the suggestion would get his crewmate thinking along those lines.

Captain's expression shuttered. "I'm not sharing my bed with you."

Hakan had meant the offer as a joke, but amusement was eclipsed by irritation at the sting of the other man's too-quick denial. "Why not? It's not like we'll both be in it together." A possibility that was rapidly losing its lustre. "We'll sleep in shifts."

Pushing past him, Captain ducked under the shelter. He returned with a blanket which he thrust at Hakan's chest. "There. You can sleep on the deck."

Well ... he could. He just objected to the insult. Did Captain think he'd somehow despoil his precious hammock by sleeping in it? Hakan took refuge in mockery. "Thank you kindly, Captain. I'm assured of sweet dreams with your tender care." He made a show of laying the blanket over the deck between the shelter and the stern where Captain would be spending the night piloting the boat. Serve him right if he tripped over Hakan every time he moved. He smoothed out creases until the blanket lay flat, emptied his bladder over the side, then settled down. Jacket removed and wadded beneath his head for a pillow, he wrapped the blanket around himself. As peace settled over him, blood pooled in his groin, reminding him of the physical needs he hadn't taken care of for too long. He told his cock to behave itself and shifted to get comfortable. He definitely needed to get laid as soon as possible when they arrived on Crescent Island.

After a brief internal tussle, he settled to sleep with his back to Captain. It went against the grain to leave his back exposed to a man he didn't trust, but he suspected he'd find it hard to sleep if he could spend the night instead staring at the man. He clung to the admittedly petty hope that Captain might be tormented by the sight of his backside – one of his finest attributes, as he'd often been told. It would only be fair to rile up the other man the way Hakan had been riled up, even if it were purposeful for him where it had been unconscious on Captain's part.

"Night, night, Captain," he called mockingly before he closed his eyes.

There was no reply, which made the teasing less satisfactory. He wriggled against the hard boards, trying to get comfortable. Taking a deep breath, he froze. The blanket surrounding him smelled of salt air and sunshine, exactly the way Captain himself did.

Hakan's torment, it seemed, was unavoidable.

~

Ramorran should have thrown Hakan off the boat when the idea first struck him. The man was a pirate and a slaver; he'd have been well within his rights. To throw him off now, though – particularly while the man slept – seemed a breach of hospitality. Not that such a consideration should weigh with him. The man was a pirate, and they were the most treacherous, sneaking creatures alive. They didn't deserve hospitality and he roundly regretted offering it.

But he needed to get onto Crescent Island safely, he reminded himself, and who better to ensure that than one of the coast's most notorious pirates?

His gaze settled on Hakan in the middle of the deck. It was petty and childish of him to deny his passenger the use of his hammock, but he could hardly change his mind now. He sighed and slumped back against the deck rail. His attention should be on piloting the boat. Or planning how he was going to snatch his property from under Sixblades' nose. Or even how to ensure his family welcomed him back after his absence. He sighed. He was going to have to eat enough humble pie to choke a whale. But it would be worth it. He'd get to see his sisters again. Zelzie would be delighted to see him. And Vonda … well, Zelzie would be delighted to see him.

Hakan sighed and shifted in his sleep. Ramorran's gaze snagged on his sleeping crewmate. His hands curled to fists and he forced his gaze up to the dark span of the night sky. Hakan was a well-built man, a fact unavoidably apparent when they were sharing a boat so small Ramorran felt as though he took an inventory of Thief's physical attributes every time he took a step.

The man wasn't even attractive. Too big, too broad, too much like a dream made flesh. Hakan demanded attention just by existing. While they'd both been awake Ramorran couldn't help his gaze straying because Hakan was just ... there. Wherever he tried to look; wherever he needed to step. Matters should improve while the man slept, but a little relief was clearly too much to ask of the fates. Hakan's muscular backside was clearly defined against the thin blanket. And gilded by the moonlight, it might have been designed to tempt the weak to their doom.

Ramorran huffed. That wasn't him, not any more. He had a job to do, and then he'd return home. It wasn't likely to be a jubilant homecoming, but home was home. He might not be welcomed warmly, but they'd take him back. In time, he'd carve a place for himself and find happiness.

He sighed, and found himself staring at Hakan again. The man looked peaceful in sleep; that's what Ramorran was covetous of. It was a long time since he'd felt able to relax. He trimmed the sail unnecessarily and forced himself not to stare at his crewmate. He didn't like Hakan, didn't want the man and absolutely couldn't wait until they arrived at Crescent Island and could go their separate ways.

He"d secure his stolen property and go home. He'd work harder to fit in this time. He knew he didn't belong in this world now, and no more with this man than the last. Hakan was a pirate. He was a slaver. Both were repellent to Ramorran. He wanted nothing to do with pirates. Even if his stupid grin made Ramorran's stupid heart flutter, yearning for what he'd already lost. Trouble. He told himself. Hakan was trouble, trouble, trouble.

He sighed, gulping in a welcome breath of cool night air. At least he knew better than to act on his foolish feelings. He could resist temptation for a few short hours. They'd reach Crescent Island the following day – by midday unless matters went far astray. And after that he need never cross paths with Hakan ever again.

Twelve hours. He could manage that.

~

Hakan woke with the dawn. He stretched, surprised by how deeply he'd slept. He hadn't expected to do so with a stranger in charge of the chebec, but it seemed he trusted Captain to keep them on course. He wasn't sure where that certainty came from, and he chose not to examine it too closely. The man was a competent sailor, that was all.

He rolled over and opened his eyes – greeted by the sight of a pair of solid feet and strong calves. His attraction whooshed back through him.

"Good morning, Thief." Captain's tone was grumpy, but Hakan suspected there was little heart behind it.

He sat up, ensuring the blanket pooled in his lap. "And a fine morning it is, too, Captain," he carolled back. The man scowled and Hakan's smile widened. If he couldn't fuck his shipmate, then he'd settle for irritating the life out of the man. One was more fun than the other, but he'd take his entertainment where he could get it. Another stretch and his stomach awoke with a growling rumble. "What's for breakfast?" he asked.

"Oh." The scowl fell right off Captain's face, leaving consternation behind. "I couldn't restock in Zussoh," he admitted.

"So what's left?" Hakan got to his feet and ducked under the shelter. He'd already found the crock of water, while inside the other small barrel was … two hard biscuits, chipped and crumbling. He turned back. "Is that it?" He wouldn't starve before they reached Crescent Island, but he didn't relish making the rest of the journey under protest from his stomach.

"I was planning to have fish," Captain replied.

"Excellent." Hakan surveyed the boat, seeking a line or two set to catch passing mackerel. He found nothing and turned back to Captain with an expectant lift of his brows. "Did you catch some already?"

Captain blinked at him as though Hakan were speaking a foreign language. "I'll get it now," he said, rising from his seat by the tiller. "You take over here."

Hakan didn't have time to reply before he wrenched off his shirt and, in a mirror to their previous meeting, dived off the deck into the water.

Hakan peered over the side on his way to the tiller. What, did Captain plan to catch a fish with his bare hands? For the first time, his brain worked past his attraction to observe something that should probably have been obvious from the first: there was something not quite right about this Captain.

And it would probably be worth his while to discover what that something was.