Kidnapped by the Pirate

Her happy letters were addressed to a Mr. Nathan, with instructions to be held until pickup at the post office. Michael would read them aloud as many times as Nathaniel asked, without complaint.

Nathaniel had first written her two years ago with only the general address of her name and the city of Kingston, Jamaica, but the missive he’d dictated to Michael had found its way to her.

Juan and his son only went for supplies every four or five months, but Nathaniel cherished the glimpses into Susanna’s prosperous life, with two children now and Bart excelling at Mr. Davenport’s shipping company. Elizabeth had married and was with child, and Nathaniel was glad of it.

Toes digging into the warm sand, legs burning pleasantly and arms pumping, Nathaniel breathed the briny air deeply. He turned onto a path past explosions of flowers, vibrant orange, red, purple, pink, and white. Like sunsets captured in leafy form, appearing delicate, yet in truth hardy and uncompromising.

Soon he neared the house he and Michael had built. It was constructed of the island’s toughest trees, the ones that bent but didn’t break during storms, roots remaining strong and sure, burrowed deep into the ground.

There was a carpenter named Dejen amongst their collective, everyone working together for a quiet, peaceful life. Dejen had taught Nathaniel so much, and he learned more each day.

He and Michael hadn’t been able to resist building the house on a hill so they could wake to the vista of the sea’s endless embrace each morning. The house sat on a plateau, and was constructed of only two rooms: one for their bed with windows that opened to the salty air, and the main room with a hearth, table, and kitchen.

It was all they needed, the privy tucked away in the shade a bit downhill by the forest’s edge—but out of range of falling coconuts.

The hilltop was a good vantage point for Michael and his spyglass as he surveyed the horizon every few hours, all directions visible from the hill’s crest farther up from the house.

There were other lookouts on the island as well, and a weapons store. If the time came, they would be ready. But forgotten as they were, Nathaniel didn’t worry overmuch.

There Michael stood, at the top of the hill, and Nathaniel slowed to a walk up the grassy slope. Feet bare, Michael too wore only his trousers. He kept his hair cut to his chin and pulled back into a little knot, and a trimmed beard shadowed his dear face again.

Nathaniel didn’t know how he could stand it in the heat, choosing to keep his own cheeks smooth in summer even though he was finally able to grow a proper beard. In winter, although it was rarely cold, he’d let it fill in again.

Passing their house and garden, Nathaniel made a note to pick the tomatoes, which thrived in the sun. He glanced at the coconut trees in the shady grove on the edge of the forest. Yes, the new fruit would be ready soon.

The island wasn’t well suited for commercial agriculture, but their family gardens thrived. Chickens clucked in a pen, and the dairy cow eyed Nathaniel dispassionately as he passed, flicking her tail.

Nathaniel knew Michael charted his approach, although he still surveyed the sea. With a contented sigh, Nathaniel wrapped his arms around Michael’s waist from behind, their bare skin sticking together.

He went up on tiptoes and kissed the shell of Michael’s ear above Susanna’s gold hoop. The legendary Sea Hawk’s golden earring remained at home in Nathaniel’s ear. “Horizon still empty?”

“Blissfully so.”

“Mmm.”

“How was your run? Seemed like you enjoyed it.”

“Michael, you’re supposed to be looking out there, not spying on me.” Nathaniel pressed his cheek to Michael’s warm shoulder.

“It was only for a minute. Or two. Perhaps five.” He lowered the spyglass and pushed the top half into the bottom. “You can’t blame me. I was thinking about how I’ll fuck you tonight.”

A coil of desire unfurled in Nathaniel, and he rubbed his still-soft cock against Michael’s arse. “Were you indeed?” He lightly raked his nails over Michael’s hairy chest, blindly tracing the edges of the sea hawk’s wings.

With all the pleasure they’d shared, he hadn’t imagined it could remain so vital as time passed. Michael’s prick was thick and unyielding, yet his kisses were often gentle with affection and tenderness. Hard and soft at once, he plundered and worshipped Nathaniel’s body in the same breath night after night. Day after day.

Nathaniel said, “We’d better get to it. I want to hear more of how Mr. Milton’s Adam and Eve are getting on. You must be up before the sun to catch those fish, and I’ll have a long day building the new room on Maria’s house. We’re almost done. The children will love having the extra space.”

Michael snorted. “Maria will too, undoubtedly.”