The Jackal
Assassin's Creed IV Black Flag || VanexCalico || M || Erotic/Humor || Spoiler (?)
The Irish ballad was not even arrived to its second verse and only half of the crowd that animated the tavern that night was holding its third round of rum when he pushed Jack Rackham behind a stack of crates high enough to hide them.
- Wait, Charly, - said Calico mumbling the words and bringing the cup to his mouth, - let me drink the last ... -
- Shut up, - he replayed, fumbling with his belt.
- Come on, lad, if I don't make it empty Maria won't give me more, ehehe ! - laughed Calico, drunk. - Would you help me, brother? -
- I said shut up, Rackham ! - he screamed, making him turning with violence, pinning him between himself and the wall. - Shut up, for God, shut up! -
- Hey, just leave God out of this story, ok? - muttered the other, more and more languid, trying to bring that damn mug of rum to his lips, but it turned almost impossible because of the limited powers of coordination due to all the alcohol in his body, so he ended up overthrowing three quarters of it over himself.
Charles Vane laughed. A raucous and deep laugh. - How I pity you . -
And it was inside him.
The people made a nickname for him, since they were there in Nassau, and he seemed to like it.
Jackal.
There were none jackals in the Caribbean Isles but those who had heard of them, especially by the lords a little effeminate who smuggled from one part of the world to the other, knew that the jackals were a kind of bastards, dogs similar to foxes, but not so clever ... no, definitely more idiots than foxes, and, paradoxically, known for their ferocity as for their cowardice.
Once Thatch said that he has seen the Ranger run away with tail between legs after giving a clamp to the ass of a frigate without even forty guns . All Nassau laughed for months and he and his crew had to stayed off the bay waiting for the mode of Charles-Shitinpants-Vane to go.
Once Hornigold was witness of the massacre on the Victoria Roja, a Spanish corvette captained by an idiot who could watch the execution of his entire crew beheaded alive until to the last man rather to give him the map to the tobacco's warehouse that the Spanish settled on Isla Muerta, a fucking strip of land in the middle of nowhere, a hundred miles out of any shipping route, where then they found waiting for them nothing but sand. The fool begged Charles Vane to follow his dead men to the afterlife for one reason : he knew that when the pirates were aware of the scam, as a punishment they would have left him there to die of starvation rather than give him the privilege of a bullet in the forehead . And so it was, but Hornigold knew only half of the story.
Also, he had that quite reckless look, the scruffy beard and yellow eyes reminded one of those very hungry stray that roam the streets, drooling after the butts of bitches and biting everything that moves.
Charles Vane was a jackal, and the worst kind of.
Especially when he used Rackham that way, almost barbaric, which had nothing to do with the act itself, but the proportion of alcohol and anger that filled his liver at that time.
Everyone had their vents.
Torturing that idiot was his.
- Stop moving, idiot. -
Calico sobbed . - How can I if you are ... -
- You just need to focus a little on, kind of a moron. -
Charles took the last sip of rum, then cleaned his mouth on the sleeve of the shirt and left his mug on top of the crates. With his hands free he shook Calico's hips, fitting better their bodies with a new deep thrust . He felt Rackham stiffen himself because of the pain, but Charles didn't care: indeed, it was even better. He grinned, enjoying the shock of pleasure that climbed up his spine, then he closed his eyes and threw his head back. Under him, Calico's nails were digging grooves on the wood of the crates.
The notes of the violin and the sing of the only woman still standing on their own feet in a mile began to have the sound of a swarm of flies in his ears.
The end was near.
Charles lost the track of time and space, focusing to keep it away, that end, when he found himself absently to heave Rackham's shirt, first just a little 'till to his hips, then over the shoulder blades, which the sword of an naval officer had linked with a nice cut almost perfectly horizontal just a few years before, when they didn't know each other, yet.
He was distracted and orgasm came, too soon, dammit, too soon!
He grabbed Rackham by the hair and pulled him up against his chest just to growl in his ears that he was the usual poor fool, because his cock has got hard again. Then Charles belted his pants and went back to the other side of that wall of crates just to fill his mug. The crowd was dancing, euphoric, demoniac . Then he noticed a collective orgy on the balcony and he dragged a whore, a slender brunette with boobs a bit ' small but it didn't matter, grabbing her by the wrist . He took her behind those crates and pushed her to Rackham, who was still looking for the laces of his trousers, saying her to make him a well done job down there.
- Otherwise his cock would explode and he won't be able to procreate other idiot bastards, - he explained with a laugh.
The woman nodded and dropped his pants, kneeling herself between the legs of Jack Rackham, who in the meantime was kindling his pipe.
Charles stared at them like in front of an painting, taking a sip of rum every now and then, and Calico stared at him, sandwiched between the crates and the small figure of the girl, squinting a bit his eyes due of pleasure, but standing still, spitting small rings of smoke.
The woman ended and left running with full cheeks . The two pirates swapped a long look and then the jackal recalled his crew with a growl, in time to leave Nassau with the high tide.
