Chapter Text
Neil wakes to a well-known feeling of fullness and sounds of skin slapping against skin.
His mind isn’t quite fully on board with consciousness but he feels the way his body rocks in a consistent rhythm, the way his cunt sings with every jerk, hears the grunting above him.
It doesn’t take long for him to realize that his Captain is fucking him—has been for a while, if the ache between his legs and the cum drying on his belly is any indication.
He blinks his eyes open, squinting against the light spilling in through the singular filmy sea-soaked window in the cabin. It’s bright enough to be midday, though Neil is still familiarizing himself with the ways this small room changes over the course of a day.
He’s only been on the Palmetto for a few weeks, maybe, almost exclusively confined to the same four walls and tied to the bed when there isn’t someone around to keep an eye on him.
Only when his Captain feels like showing him off does Neil get to go outside, and even then it’s for as long as it takes for the man to come down his throat, so Neil rarely gets to savor the feeling of the wind on his face.
He spends hours of his time like a proper working girl—on his back, cunt split open by the Captain’s thick cock, and dripping in a filthy mix of fluids.
The rest of his day, he is alone, watching the sun cast a motley of colorful shadows through the stained glass trinkets hanging by the window, or in silent company of one of the other leadership during mealtime, most often the boatswain, who seems to have the Captain’s favor.
Neil doesn’t hate it, not really. This arrangement far outpaces the last ship he was on, where he was left to marinate in his own piss for weeks. At least on the Palmetto, he gets treated like something close to a person.
Like now—it’s kind of Minyard to let him keep sleeping even though he wanted to use Neil. Warmth settles in his stomach, though Neil is unsure if that is from his own feelings or from his Captain’s body.
“Morning, doll,” Minyard greets, hips not faltering for a second. He reaches up and pinches one of Neil’s nipples, hard enough to hurt but a wave of pleasure follows soon after.
Neil gives his bindings a pathetic tug but as expected, they don’t loosen an inch, so the only thing he can do is wrap his legs around Minyard’s body. They’ve gotten to a point where Neil can do things like that now without getting his face shoved in a pillow and his ass spanked until the skin is raw.
Still, he can tell Minyard doesn’t care much for what he likes, his own needs and desires are the priority. Neil will take the concessions where he can.
Sex with his Captain has shifted in increments, from the violence of their first meeting into now, where Neil can at least chase the good feelings while they last. They never do, not for long enough for him to get anything out of it like Minyard does, but the building ecstasy is the only bright spot guaranteed every day.
“You didn’t once react when I started fucking you this morning,” his Captain remarks, his voice deep in the way it is when he’s trying to be intimidating, and strained from the effort he’s exerted thus far. “It’s why you’re so perfect for me. My perfect little whore.”
Neil nods, unable to help himself. He is perfect for his Captain, has forced himself to be to keep his sanity.
Whatever his Captain wants, his Captain gets, and Neil is all too willing to debase himself to give it to him if it means his safety. He’s been on the Palmetto long enough to understand the stories about the Monster are not so exaggerated as he had thought when Minyard first pulled him from the hull of the Ravens’ ship.
Andrew Minyard is a ruthless man, his sword quenched with as much blood as Neil’s father’s knives, and an unapologetic one. Not once has Neil seen his remorse for the violence he wields, the lives he’s felled, nor the ones he’s ruined. He is an opportunist, and Neil’s own delicate position as his bedmate is the best example he can think of.
He was not a necessity but a want, and Minyard latched onto the chance to have yet another pretty thing in his possession.
Not that Neil thinks he’s all that pretty, with his scars and flawed body, but his Captain teases him about it often enough that Neil has begun to think Minyard believes it.
At least that makes one person in this world who doesn’t see him as the vile creature he truly is.
Minyard palms one of Neil’s breasts, squeezing the small amount of fat in time with his thrusts, his thumb digging into the sensitive nub of Neil’s nipple.
It feels nicer that it hurts, though Neil thinks his partiality to pain is a consequence of his upbringing, and only fortunate due to his current circumstances. But, Neil thinks, he wouldn’t have minded a rougher lover if he ever chose them himself.
The rise of his pleasure seems to come at him faster this time, and before Neil really understands what’s happening, he tumbles right over that edge, all by accident.
He chokes back his moan as best he can but the rest of his body betrays him, shaking and trembling in pleasure. He can feel the extra wetness between his legs, the way he clamps down tight around his Captain’s cock. It’s humiliating to be unable to stop it but it feels too good for the worry to truly set in.
Above him, Minyard falters. He stops moving and his hands go slack. It’s enough to get Neil to open his eyes, unaware that he closed them in the first place.
The look on his face is what terrifies Neil. It is blank like always, yes, but as of late, Neil has been able to read the little changes in his expression that tell him if he’s done something to please Minyard or piss him off.
There’s nothing to read now.
Neil can’t fully stamp down the delirious little giggle bubbling out of him. This must be what does it, what finally reduces Neil to cargo once more.
After that first day, Neil had fought against his own pleasure, sometimes to the point of tears. Minyard made it clear Neil was not allowed his own release, has denied it to him time and time again. Neil figured it was part of his conditions for staying on as the Captain’s little sex pet and has acted accordingly since.
But now he’s broken that rule. Who’s to say what his fate is now?
Neil thinks a little prayer, a silent plea for mercy, before he begs for it out loud. “I’m sorry—”
Minyard clamps a hand around his throat, not tight enough to restrict his breathing but a clear warning for Neil to shut his mouth. When he speaks, his voice is rough and dark, which only adds to Neil’s fear. “Don't.”
He relents because what else is he to do? What his Captain wants, his Captain gets.
Several seconds pass—or maybe its minutes or even hours, Neil cannot tell, his body trying its very best to keep still despite the panic coursing through it—before Minyard moves. He squeezes Neil’s throat once, twice, and then removes his hand so he can lean in close. He runs his tongue along the length of Neil’s throat until he reaches Neil’s ear.
“You like this, huh?” He bites down on Neil’s earlobe hard enough that Neil thinks he might just tear it right off. “I lucked out finding myself such a needy whore.”
Neil gasps, relief flooding his body and making his toes tingle. “Y-yes, Captain.”
“I should take better care of you, right, doll?” He doesn’t wait for an answer, pressing his thumb to Neil’s clit hard enough to hurt. It shouldn’t feel as good as it does. “Do you think you can give me one more? I think you can.”
Neil nods, as obedient as ever. The knowledge that his insubordination hasn’t made Minyard wash his hands of him is such a potent drug, one Neil doesn’t think he’ll ever get over.
Minyard starts up at the same brutal pace as before. How he’s been able to maintain it thus far is a mystery Neil does not have the answer to. Perhaps his longevity is the result of the mess on his skin from when he was still asleep but Neil doesn’t let himself linger on the thought.
All he can think about is Minyard’s thumb rubbing harsh circles against him. It’s too much now, the stimulation prickling beyond feeling good, but Neil revels in it nonetheless.
The attention is more than he’d ever ask of his Captain. He knows his place, knows what he was saved for, and he wouldn’t dare push those boundaries voluntarily but if Minyard is willing to concede this, Neil will lap it up with fervor. He is used to scraps anyway.
Minyard, despite his previous ability to fuck like a madman without finishing, does not last much longer after he begins fucking Neil again. He manages to pull another orgasm out of Neil, too quick to truly be enjoyable but more than Neil ever thought he’d get anyway, before he comes himself.
He pulls out almost too soon, his cum splattering against the abused hole of Neil’s cunt in what is certain to be a filthy sight.
Neil’s cheeks heat with the thought of what he must look like, but Minyard doesn’t give him much time to wallow. He smacks Neil’s cunt once, the wet sound loud despite the roar of the ocean, and slides off the bed in a practiced move.
Minyard is comfortable on this ship, something Neil never expects of himself. It’s a minor miracle he’s been allowed his life this long; he doesn’t see himself keeping his Captain’s favor much longer.
It’d be sad if Neil ever thought he’d live past eighteen. As it stands, he’s on borrowed on time. If tomorrow, Minyard decided he was not worth the effort of keeping him, Neil wouldn’t fight him on it. He’s been gifted enough extra time.
This knowledge, however, doesn’t stop the itchy, uncomfortable feelings from finding him yet again. They’re not quite so bad this time around but Neil squeezes his thighs together to hide as much as he can. He’d curl himself into a ball to try an soothe himself if it didn’t mean Minyard would see it.
For whatever reason, the idea of Minyard witnessing this weakness of his rankles. He’s already seen so much—taken so much—of Neil that he’d like to keep this one thing, even if it is terrible.
Minyard doesn’t spare him so much as a glance as he yanks his pants on and belts his sword and gun back into place on his hips. Neil barely watches him, more bothered with his own inability to regulate his emotions than what his Captain decides to dress himself in.
“Kevin will be by later,” Minyard says and ducks out of his cabin without a single glance back.
If he were a smarter man, he’d be memorizing Minyard’s schedule, looking for when his escape is most likely to succeed. He is little more than a doll, his place on this ship is not a guarantee.
But Neil can’t bring himself to think like that. Despite how much he fears Minyard, he cannot return to being nothing.
At least here he has a purpose, as crude as it is. He does not want to be anything less.