(HOPE THIS IS OKAY??????? Ugh these two I swear)
–
He sees it first when visiting one of the ships at the dockyard, not a fortnight since they first met.
Lieutenant McGraw in full regalia, sword at his side and hat perched firmly on his head, his voice loud and clear as he orders men to work or stop depending on their proximity. He sees how the younger boys on the ship look up to him as though he were a captain already, sees how older men regard him with jealousy and scorn.
Thomas feels those stirrings in his gut, the undeniable feeling that he is, in fact, attracted to this man who holds such power on a ship even when at dock and not at sea. And it is enthralling to see him stand so tall and proud… Thomas wants to see it every day, to see those eyes turned on him and that commanding voice to tell him how he should stand, sit, lay, how he should touch James…
But it is an idle fancy, one that he hopes will fade as their work develop.
–
The second time is when James has already been in his bed. They are at lunch, sitting as close together as propriety will allow and even then James’ hand is on his knee or arm more often than not. They are, Miranda remarked, like newlyweds; unable to withstand even a moment apart.
A few fellows approach their table and James swaps a hand on Thomas’ knee for a foot stroking his calf. The men are from the Navy, of lower standing than James but of higher breeding and they are merciless in their scorn, trying to hide it because of Thomas’ presence. He is, after all, of higher breeding than most in the room. But James simply looks at them with the contempt of one who knows he is better and has the rank to prove it and they both watch in satisfaction as the men slink off to kick their wounds as James battles them with scathing remarks about their seamanship.
–
The third time is in the bedroom.
After the first few weeks of blissful and gentle lovemaking, of sweet kisses and an almost desperate need to touch and explore, they relax. And the game they play that night is not the most ridiculous they’ve played, Thomas’ pirate captain and James’ tavern boy hold that position, but it is… illuminating nonetheless.
James is wearing a party costume. A false captain’s hat and jacket, a wooden sword at his side, and a look of such command that is all his own in his eyes. All ideas of jest melt from Thomas’ mind at the sight as he enters the small office attached to his chambers. He finds himself falling into his role almost unconsciously; that of an inexperienced sailor brought to his captain for “educating”.
“Captain,” he says, almost in a daze as he shuts the door behind him and waits for James to bid him enter the room fully. He sees the way James’ back straightens at the word, how his eyes widen ever so slightly.
The way James treats him in that room is indescribable. He thinks that this is how the Opium smokers feel in their sweet hazes, this slow moving world where only one thing matters. His senses are simultaneously sharper and duller; he hears James’ voice, feels his touch, tastes the salt of his skin as though it were the first time all over again.
Bent over the desk, James’ costume thrown aside except for the rough breeches and sword belt, Thomas gasps and moans as though his very life depended on showing James he was enjoying this. He feels the bite of nails on his hips and hears James growling his name and releases a hoarse shout as he is fucked nearly senseless.
When James drops to his knees to take Thomas’ cock in his mouth, Thomas moans “captain” and spills down his throat in moments. James comes into his own fist with a barely stifled shout.
After, their bodies still cooling, Thomas praises him every way he knows how.
–
It is almost ironic that the next time he sees James in a nautical respect is after nearly eleven years apart.
They have been reunited for around two weeks and Thomas can hardly remember a less blissful time. It would have been perfect if not for the manual labour and the nights waking in cold sweat from nightmares.
A group of men and women come to the plantation and, through words and thinly veiled threats, take ownership. The men and women working are freed, are given the choice to stay or go as they wished. Thomas stands at James’ side as a man taller than either of them with shoulders as broad as an ocean tells them they may go. James says he wants to speak to the one who has freed them, a curious glint in his eye. The large black man gestures and they follow.
James’ back is straight again, his chin high and his expression clear when they move into the mansion. Thomas hasn’t seen that expression since their last tryst in London.
A woman opens the door. “Captain,” she says, voice laden with heavy emotion.
“Princess,” James says back, voice just as thick. He stands to attention and bows, lifting her hand to press a kiss to the knuckles. When he rose he took Thomas’ hand and clasped their fingers together.
“You must be Lord Hamilton, I am pleased to make your acquaintance,” the lady said. She was extraordinarily beautiful, Thomas thought of Miranda and wondered if they had met.
“May I know your highness’s name?” He asked quietly, voice still hoarse from years of disuse.
“Madi Scott.”
James kept himself strong and upright for the remainder of the day, seemingly finding strength in her presence. He discussed the newly freed plantation, tactics for securing it, how to tackle any resistance from town, and Thomas watched as the old Lieutenant came forth, only more capable and clearly used to being in charge.
For the first time since being brought together again, they made love with smiles and laughter between them instead of tears and regret for the past. Thomas laughed as James bossed him about, moving easily and let James set their pace as though it were his god given right.
They left with the Maroon Princess and her subjects the following day and made their way to the coast. On a small schooner Thomas stood back and watched as James, partly his old self and partly as Captain Flint, took charge and commanded their journey to Nassau. He slept by his love in the captain’s cabin and felt himself becoming more and more free with each passing moment.
Meg's Mumbles 