a/n: I took this on so long ago and forgot about the file in my computer, oops! Hope you like!
A huff, and another creak, and Jim was on his side, the weight of his body uncomfortably gathered on his left shoulder. The fabric of the hammock was rough and thick, as if they'd just cut a retired sail apart and hung it at the seams. And it never hung quite right, and inevitably the cabin boy would end up bent in half or with his limbs draped over the side… not to mention the smell of every other crew member who rarely bathed and gave off otherworldly odors when cramped in a tiny, humid room together.
Jim was frustrated. And it wasn't just the environment that annoyed him, or the menial chores that made his back ache with heat at the end of every day, it was that he should have been stronger than this. Adventurers don't complain about an uncomfortable bed or their loud and odiferous roommates. Real sailors wouldn't object to a place they could put their head down at night. He rolled over again-or tried to, his arm getting
( ... )
There was that damn noise again. Worse than that bloated gas bucket, that impudent cabin body huffing and puffing and whining. Scroop hissed, though it likely went unheard with the assortment of snores and the creaks of the ship. Somehow every sound that little human made managed to be more grating and irritating than all of them combined. When the boy spun over for the third time in as many seconds, the pirate had half a mind to crawl over and snap his hammock off its ropes and let the prissy brat sleep on the floor
( ... )
After letting his cock stand surrounded only by the humid air of their sleeping quarters, Jim let his hand over it again-- this time underhanded to give his wrist a rest. A curse slipped out between clenched teeth, and his stomach went concave with tremors-- that hand taking him far away from this crowded ship, away from the aches and pains of hours of mopping and rigging and working his knees to bruises with a scrub brush. Within a few minutes it was all he could to do remember he was in a public place, and that he should feel some sort of embarrassment for all this. But Jim wasn't in that place any longer. He was a teenage boy with hormones that regularly made him feel as if he was carrying thick, taut weight between his legs, and he was shameless
( ... )
Now. Now. Scroop could have descended from his perch in a matter of seconds, pinned a rough claw against the boy's neck and laughed sadistically right in his face for catching him. But he didn't. Instead, he stayed motionless in his cot, teeth gritting, thick drool gathered at the corners of his mouth.
Going to pull the thing off, cabin boy…
Jim tipped his head back, taking in a deep breath and disappearing his hand under his shirt for another rub.
Should wake usss all up if you're so anxiousss to give us a show.
One more breath, and Jim's body went stiff, the only part of him still moving was that hand hurriedly pumping his length.
Degenerate child…"Ah!" Shit, Jim hadn't meant for that moan to blurt out, one final vulnerable plead before he toppled helplessly over that edge. Firstly, there was that tension in his abdomen, like a band being yanked taut, then the reverberating throbbing once it snapped. Finally with his hips jutting up from the hammock, a thick rope of white spread generously over his stomach and chest,
( ... )
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A huff, and another creak, and Jim was on his side, the weight of his body uncomfortably gathered on his left shoulder. The fabric of the hammock was rough and thick, as if they'd just cut a retired sail apart and hung it at the seams. And it never hung quite right, and inevitably the cabin boy would end up bent in half or with his limbs draped over the side… not to mention the smell of every other crew member who rarely bathed and gave off otherworldly odors when cramped in a tiny, humid room together.
Jim was frustrated. And it wasn't just the environment that annoyed him, or the menial chores that made his back ache with heat at the end of every day, it was that he should have been stronger than this. Adventurers don't complain about an uncomfortable bed or their loud and odiferous roommates. Real sailors wouldn't object to a place they could put their head down at night. He rolled over again-or tried to, his arm getting ( ... )
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Going to pull the thing off, cabin boy…
Jim tipped his head back, taking in a deep breath and disappearing his hand under his shirt for another rub.
Should wake usss all up if you're so anxiousss to give us a show.
One more breath, and Jim's body went stiff, the only part of him still moving was that hand hurriedly pumping his length.
Degenerate child…"Ah!" Shit, Jim hadn't meant for that moan to blurt out, one final vulnerable plead before he toppled helplessly over that edge. Firstly, there was that tension in his abdomen, like a band being yanked taut, then the reverberating throbbing once it snapped. Finally with his hips jutting up from the hammock, a thick rope of white spread generously over his stomach and chest, ( ... )
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