One Night with the Captain

It happened as easily and quickly as the death of a fly. I can only hope that is and will be the only similarity between the two events.

Sleeping like a corpse, as usual, I was only half awakened at the sound of footsteps entering the bunks. When the heavy steps came to my bunk, I opened my still human eye. A large, shadowed body was looming over me.

Being still partly asleep, I did not realize until half a minute later that it was Davy Jones, my captain. He was surprisingly quiet. Usually when he was down here at this hour, it was followed by a loud command for everyone to get up and assume their stations. I raised my misshapen head and looked around at all of my sleeping crewmen, my bunk by chance being furthest from any of theirs.

Though we were surrounded by snores, gurgles and wheezes, the silence of Jones was beginning to alarm me.

“Captain?”

He raised a hand to quiet me. This was disturbing. What in the name of the Lord above did he want?

I must have been far sleepier than I thought, because it seemed rather sudden that he was on my bed, straddling my legs.

“Captain-nnn…??” To say I was surprised is an understatement. His remaining hand covered my mouth and I dared not to bite him in defense. Suction cups stuck to my lips and the long tentacle of a finger wrapped around the details of my head, exploring me. His lobster claw of a left arm pinned me down and it was clear that I was to avoid making any noise or resistance. Perhaps if I did not fight and kept my maw shut, whatever he was about to do would be quick.

I had to admit I had hidden desires for the captain. This lust had never come into the light; for I was far too afraid to reveal that kind of secret amongst the others, especially to Jones himself. For all I know, telling the truth would have gotten me killed. And so, I was half frightened, but half thrilled for this to be happening to me, as I heard a belt being unbuckled and layers of clothing being pushed aside.

Unseen fingers which must have really been tentacles from Jones’ so-called beard yanked on my trousers, working at the belt and finally lowering my clothes down to around my knees. He could have torn them off with his claw but he chose not to.

I expected this to be painful at the speed my captain was going, so I gasped not only in pleasure but surprise when I felt those tentacles gently drifting along my back. My gasp was answered by a tongue against my neck before I felt the real penetration.

Jones must have been smooth and wet everywhere, including his cock. Added to the tongue slathering my neck and shoulders, the sensation of him inside me made me moan sharply. I hated to have done it, since that had to be as quiet as possible. Perhaps additionally the idea of fucking so closely to a group of sleeping crewmen was adding to the shear excitement of it all.

I reached behind myself, groping for his body, thinking I could supply some pleasure for him, but the tentacle decorated hand came off of my lips for just a moment, to carefully put my hand back where it was, clutching fistfuls of my blanket.

Lord alive, I whined. I whined and moaned into my pillow like a needful harlot as Jones began to thrust into me. His “beard” wrapped around the strange shape of my head and it felt like hundreds of tiny individual kisses were covering my skin. Soon those tentacles were arching my neck back and I was strangely bold enough to take one in my mouth, carefully sucking without harm.

Captain Jones grunted into my back and the arms which had gone around my chest squeezed snugly. Thankfully we hardly raised our voices any higher, and our heavy, sharp breathing was nothing compared to the snores of the others and the crashing of the waves against the Dutchman’s hull. Our bodies, despite the ever present chill of the windy sea at night, felt as though they were on fire and with every touch, the fire spread further and more furiously.

My breathing quickened in time with his thrusts and I threw my face into the pillow, giving the loudest moan I could allow myself. Jones came not too long after me and for a moment his body collapsed against mine. For a moment I thought I felt a rapid heartbeat against my back, but that was a foolish thought, since Davy Jones’ heart had been long gone from him. I soon realized it was my own.

But the event proved to be as fleeting as I had described earlier. The captain was off of me and up the stairs in seconds, straightening his clothes as he left. I sat up and stared at the steps, wondering if I had dreamed the whole thing up. But I could not have possibly dreamed up something that felt so real, so painful… so damned good.

The remaining hours until morning went by without any real sleep for me and I went to my post with a muddled brain and heavy eyelids. Jones was barking orders to his crew and it was not until a half hour later that I could actually speak to him in private.

“I wanted to ask a question about last night…” I said to him as he watched the waves. He turned with an eyebrow raised.

“What about last night?” he inquired. “I know nothing of what you mean.”

“But…” I stopped wisely. The look on Jones’ face let me know he was well aware of what we had done. But it also hinted to me that I should let it go and obediently do as he had silently told me earlier: keep my maw shut.

I thought back on the moment which took place only hours before and for a second I felt like jumping off the ship, screaming at the top of my moldy lungs… something, anything to release how I felt. He had only come for a fuck, and that was all. I had no idea if he would ever try it again, and with a bit of thought I decided we probably should not. We had gotten away with it once, and who knew how long we could have kept the act up.

Climbing up to the crow’s nest, I came to the conclusion that it was all for the best. I may have desired the captain, but I never knew he had desired one of us, let alone me. I may have been lonely, but how should he feel, as love and desire had brought him to where he was now? A flashback hit me as I stood alone in the nest, gazing at the water surrounding the Flying Dutchman. I remembered once more how hard and fast my pulse had beaten within me as he rested against me.

Perhaps, just for one night, he needed someone’s heart to beat in such a way for him as well.


END.