Originally written for the Strifehart Kink Meme.
Prompt: Cloud unwittingly stows away aboard a pirate ship. He's discovered and brought before their captain, One-Eye Leonhart, and made a personal slave of sorts in exchange for his life. Reluctant but consensual fun sexy tiemz would be the exceptionally delicious icing on this adventure-on-the-high-seas cake.
Glad you liked it, Stellar.
"Well, Zack," Cloud declared morosely, "we be in trouble."
Momentarily off his shoulder and perched instead on a clump of seaweed, Zack took a sudden interest in preening his black plumage. Heaving a deep sigh of resignation, the blond cabin boy leaned back against the broken barrel behind him. His head tilted upward, and he stared up through the holes of the grate.
"… You know, I reckon ye could fly up thar 'n out 'o here if ye wanted to," he pointed out to his feathered companion, "so be off with ye already. I don't care."
Zack whined – as best a hill myna could mimic whining, anyway – and hopped back onto Cloud's shoulder. The black bird nuzzled his master's cheek imploringly until Cloud reached up to scratch his head.
"Loyal to a fault," he muttered, despite his smile, "I named ye after th' right guy."
Above their heads, a few burlier members of the crew advanced to lift the grate off the top of the brig. It took a brief moment longer before Cloud found his self hauled back up onto the deck. His arms pinned firmly behind him, he was roughly led toward the Captain's quarters via a combination of shoving and dragging.
All around the ship was a thick fog that chilled him to the very bone. Too bad he didn't notice that as a sign of warning before hitching a ride to get away from his last crew's mutiny. Of course, it took a lot of bad luck to wind up stowing away on a ghost ship.
It took the Devil's luck to stow away on the Flying Dutchman.
Soon enough he was through the doors, where the captain awaited him. The oddly sullen man did not acknowledge them at once, appearing to be occupied with something just outside his window. After a few counts of waiting to be noticed, Zack was decidedly bored and flew atop the impressive but incredibly untidy desk.
Almost at once, a black shadow shot from one of the open drawers and launched itself at the myna. With a terrified squawk he took off in a burst of feathers, the shadow easily clearing a good height to come at him again.
"Zack!" Cloud cried out in a panic.
"AWK!" Zack in turn shrieked. "Don't eat me!"
If anything, that was what it took to gain the captain's attention. With a low growl, he slammed his spyglass back down and turned partway.
"Enough," he barked just once. Immediately the shadow seized its charge and retreated back on top of the desk. There, in better lighting, it was revealed to be a small Capuchin monkey decked in a miniature tunic and jacket of the ship's colors. Zack was all too happy at that point to return to the safety of Cloud's shoulder.
As Cloud watched, the captain slowly rose to his feet and walked around the desk to where they were. What little bravery the bird had was lost as he tried to hide behind Cloud's head, just as the man came within spitting distance.
He was as tall and impressive as the crew had said. He wasn't as broad as the men holding the blond captive, but with his current lack of coat the thin shirt revealed firmly packed muscles that were said to easily outmatch even the largest gladiator amongst them. His right eye gleamed eerie, ghostly silver as it focused on him.
The other eye was lost behind a thick, angry scar, and at either side of it was a brother – one slashing over part of the eyebrow, and the other neatly cutting across the bridge of his nose.
"… So ye be One-Eye Leonhart," he commented with a smirk before nodding at the three scars, "Now that's a beauty. Whar did ye get them?"
"Grapplin' hook," the captain answered simply. "Now tell me: what be ye doin' on me ship?"
Cloud managed to shrug despite the crushing grip on his arms. "Couldn't stay on me own. Th' lads would murder me."
"Mutiny, eh?" One-Eye scoffed, perhaps the closest he could get to sympathy. "What be I supposed to do wit' ye?"
"I don't be knowin'," the blond retorted. "Maybe ye could slap me hand 'n let me on me way?"
The crew took offense before their boss did, and Cloud quite suddenly found himself slammed hard against the wooden planks. Zack was flying around over head in some sort of panic, as the monkey watched lazily. Almost patronizing, the captain dropped to one knee to better look at his new sorry state.
"I have a better idea," he said, a malicious grin of sorts snaking its way up his features. "Since ye like me ship so, ye can stay on th' poop deck for a hundred years."
"Hate to break it to ye, Cap'n," Cloud croaked back, "but I doubt I gunna live to spy a hundred."
"Oh, ye gunna alright," Leonhart answered darkly. "As long as ye be on me ghost ship, ye be mine."
"Don't be countin' on it," Cloud growled back. Before he could blink, the flat of a naval dirk tapped against his throat.
"Ye freedom or ye life." The dirk turned to its sharp edge. "Take ye pick."
Unable to summon words with cold steel pressing close enough to draw blood against his throat, Cloud's silence answered for him. The captain was smirking as he withdrew the weapon and straightened, but it did not last when the door banged open again.
"Captain!"
"Can't ye see I be busy?" he growled back.
"Sorry matey, but a ship be approachin'!" the ship hand stated. "The Black Pearl."
"Blisterin' barnacles," the captain cursed at once. Then, remembering his prisoner, he returned attention to the crew. "Ye a pair, I be needin' him ready fer me when I get back."
"Th' usual?" One asked.
"Yarr," Leonhart answered before stepping outside.
"Aye, cap'n," they grunted back, equally lewd grins on their faces as they hauled Cloud to his feet.
As a cry of "Cap'n on deck!" rang out, One-Eye settled himself between two cannons. He didn't need his spyglass to see the offensive ship just ahead. Recognizing its colors at once, his lone eye burned with fury.
"Jack Sparrow," he snarled, his teeth bared in a ferocious leonine display. Then he turned and barked at the crew. "Ye lot!"
"Cap'n?" one piped at once.
"Summon th' Griever," he growled back solemnly.
They saluted, each of them somber, and he watched them for a moment in their preparations. The majestic lion head was hoisted high up the mast. Standing at the bow, quite pleased with himself, a crewman lifted a horn with the beast's image carved upon it. He blew a low tune far across the sea…
Then, quite suddenly, there was a pitched unmanly shriek from somewhere aboard the Black Pearl. The entire ship seemed to scramble for escape as a massive winged lion of obsidian fur, ruby horns and dagger fangs descended from the clouds. As the horn continued to play, the lion swooped and weaved about, worrying the poor confused vessel until it sped away at its fastest pace.
"Take that, ye poxy cur," Leonhart grunted with some amount of satisfaction.
At his signal, the horn stopped, and the beast retired back to its place in the skies. With a wave, he dismissed the crew back to their duties – even with so many distractions in the same day, they still had their prerogative to maintain. Those souls lost at sea were expecting their ferry into the afterlife, and they didn't like to be kept waiting.
Of course, that didn't mean he couldn't attend to other matters along the way.
In the same moment he returned to his quarters, the two he left to guard the prisoner saluted in a show of being done. He dismissed them both, leaving him alone with his newly acquired prize.
"What th' hell be I wearin'?!"
One-Eye Leonhart was pleased as pie to see that the old threads fit the new replacement like a glove. No, actually, this one seemed to pull off the look better than the last one. Granted a nice, sweet display of creamy skin exposed in all the right places, the captain's lone eye glowed lustily.
"Don't ye worry," he purred, glad that he didn't think to put his jacket on. The shirt soon joined it in a messy heap on a nearby chair. "Ye won't be wearin' it for very long…"
And as the captain claimed his latest "cabin boy", the rest of the ghostly crew were wise enough to stop up their ears.
It was going to be a long hundred years of service ahead.
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