Haddocks time on his ship wasn't all fun and drinking.(for Tintin Kinkmeme)

Warnings for Noncon and Sex and Violence.

Part 1

The first and the last time had been the worst for him. Now as the storm raged on outside his window, he wrapped himself tighter around his young lover as if a child would a teddy-bear, seeking out the protection that in this case wasn't false. His tall muscular form more a bears than Tintins lean sleek freckled body pressed against him, spooning the younger man.

Though his body lay safely curled up around Tintins, his dreams had drifted to another time. It often did. His dreams no longer a safe place. He dreamed of his time upon his ship, the place that had once been his home away from home, now a swirl of dark memories.

He often dreamed of other moments similar to his first time. Trapped in his cabin with an unknown man, would haunt his days forever. Booze making it almost bearable…Tintin managing to make it bearable. But Tintin couldn't protect him in his dreams.

He'd been fast asleep, the storm of the decade seemed to have broken just over his ship 2 days ago and he'd spent most of that time steering his ship. Allan beside him like an anchor helping him steer through the massive waves. Finally at the end of the 2nd day the storm had died enough to allow him time to really rest, the night so pitch black that his cabin was shrouded in a dark cloak allowing him to sleep more comfortable.

His dreams would normally start the same. He would feel the icy cold press of a blade to his throat. (In reality it had only happened twice. He'd only really allowed himself to drop his guard once after the first attack. After that if he'd been sober enough he'd fight and inevitably loose and feel the wrath of his captor afterwards.)

He'd dream that he couldn't see the captors face. The room so dark that he wasn't even able to make out his attackers silhouette. He'd stay deadly still the blade so close to his bear throat (In those days he'd sleep in nothing but boxers, his face -then- clean shaven, he'd been a handsome proud man then. Not the stale old drunk he was now, Though Tintin had often stated otherwise and went to great pains to prove otherwise).

The man seemed to follow a script. His voice unfriendly and unfamiliar, Harsh and Dangerous, Long Hard fingers working over his chest leaving no doubt in the Captains mind what his attacker had in mind, shifting uncomfortably accidentally nicking himself on the blade "Thundering typhoons what the hell do you want with me" He'd asked the first night…the nights thereafter he hadn't needed to ask.

A cold Laugh that would haunt his dreams forever would answer him, those long rough fingers would wrap around his cock through boxers giving it a rough squeeze that would draw a wince from his face even if just a dream. He'd finally been unable to resist, fighting until he were forcibly restrained, several close shaves to his neck and the feel of cool restrained that he thought could only be from his own brig the result of his moment of bravery.

The attacker and captor sat catching his breath, forcibly holding his hands over his head while fondling him through his boxers clearly angry that he'd fought him off, the knife now abandoned somewhere. "Stay very still or I cut you from ear to ear" the voice above him would growl. Late he felt sorry he hadn't fought more. That the feel of his throat been slit would be preferable to the nightmares and fear he'd live with.

He'd feel a rough cloth wrapped around his eyes, the sound and acrid smell of a match lighting a candle on the table, but the blind fold stopped him having any chance at seeing who it was.

For the longest moment he sat breathless his captor merely sitting beside him watching him he was sure. But it didn't stop him from flinching when the hand returned his hands tied above his head now unable to fight. His boxers roughly pulled down his legs and pulled off, the hand back on his this time naked flesh trying to force some form of pleasure hadn't seemed to be managing it very well, he was too terrified and headstrong to allow his body to respond to those hands.

The hand soon became weary of fondling him, soon his legs where forced apart fingers probing him forcing their way in before he were ready, not that he'd ever have been ready, his teeth grinding loudly enough to make a notable noise, the hand moving away looking for something in his drawers ( at the time he'd had a lavish Captain's cabin worthy of the captain of a large ship, he'd moved to a smaller cabin where he'd hoped he'd be safer in the lower levels later, that had seemed to work better, at least the attacks had grown less frequent after that) .

Soon whoever it was, was back fingers this time slick probing him relentlessly, a second noise of a zipper being undone, moving and shifting him until he were between his forcibly spread legs, the feeling of something far larger than a few fingers at his entrance, slowly slipping into him, the amount of whatever lubricant had been used hardly enough, once his Captor had slipped into him he'd finally given up trying to stay still kicking and fighting, probably doing more injury to himself than the captor but he'd had to fight.

His captor gripped his cock painfully enough to bruise, causing him to see bright lights, slapping him and finally gripping his thighs forcing himself straight into him and losing his load deep within the Captain .Making him immediately wish for a bath if he hadn't already been wishing it since the man had laid his hands on him.

After the captor would finish with him, there would be a time of silence, when the captor seemed to enjoy sitting back watching him. The smell of smoke afterwards would suggest that the Captor would smoke after abusing him. He had several cigar burns over his body as a reminder of this. Shining red circles on his skin hidden by dark hair now.

He'd been left tied up to be found by someone. He remembered being more terrified then than he had been when he had the knife to his throat. He didn't know if the man would come back or whether he'd be found by his crew…he didn't know what was worse.

Fortunately his first mate had found him. Allan had been a true friend and companion. Begging Allan to remain silent about what he'd found not to breath a word to anyone, that the rapscallion that had done this to him would probably not be brave enough to do it again. Allan after much pleading reluctantly agreed. Looking more hurt and worried for his Captain than Haddock would dare to believe.

Allan Became his rock much like Tintin had now…but their relationship had hardly been a healthy one compared to his and Tintins. Allan seemed to always be the one to find him after he'd been attacked. The Captain of course having ordered that only his first mate may enter his cabin. He'd been the one to suggest a cabin in the bottom of the ship for his protection. Allowing Allan use of the Captains berth. Allan had suggested Whiskey to calm his nerves. If Allan had had a long hard day he'd often be a lot more pushy with his Captain that would be expected. Soon Allan had him hidden in the ship with a few "body guards" to tend over his cabin. Hardly letting him leave. He'd soon found that his cabin was safer than the outside world…Until Tintin saved him from his own pit.