The salty breeze from the ocean clung to Rody’s skin as he stepped off the ship, the creaking of wood and the sound of seagulls fading into the background. The town was small and unassuming, with narrow cobblestone streets winding between old, weathered buildings. It was the kind of place where the only excitement came from the occasional ship docking, bringing with it sailors eager to drink away their pay and lose themselves in the pleasures of the night.
Rody’s crewmates were no different. After weeks at sea, they were more than ready to indulge in the tavern’s offerings, and Rody, with little else to do, decided to join them. He wasn’t much for drinking, but the prospect of something more physical-something to take the edge off-was appealing. The long days at sea had left him restless, and he could use a distraction.
The tavern was a dimly lit, smoke-filled place, the air thick with the scent of ale and sweat. Wooden tables were crowded with men laughing boisterously, tankards clinking together in drunken camaraderie. In the corners, shadows shifted as sailors whispered to women with too-red lips and dresses that hung too loosely on their bodies. The promise of a quick thrill hung in the air, but as Rody scanned the room, none of the women sparked his interest.
His crewmates were already deep in their cups, eyeing the tavern girls with lecherous grins, but Rody felt a flicker of disappointment. The faces that surrounded him were worn and tired, not unlike the men he worked with every day. The idea of settling for the first willing body he found made his stomach turn.
With a resigned sigh, he turned his attention to the bar, deciding that a drink might take his mind off his frustration. But as his eyes drifted over the tavern once more, they caught on something-or rather, someone-that made his breath hitch.
A boy-no, a young man-was weaving through the tables, a tray balanced in his hands as he served drinks with a grace that seemed out of place in a place like this. His dark hair fell in soft waves around his face, framing sharp, delicate features. His skin was pale, a striking contrast to the dingy surroundings, and his eyes-black as night-glimmered with an intensity that made Rody’s chest tighten.
There was something about him that was different, something that stirred a deep, primal desire in Rody. The way he moved, the way his lips curled into a subtle, almost hesitant smile as he exchanged coins for drinks-it was all too alluring. For a moment, Rody forgot where he was, his thoughts consumed by the stranger before him.
Surely someone as beautiful as that boy had to be available for a price, Rody thought. Why else would he be working in a place like this? His heart pounded as he watched the boy move, each step sending a thrill of anticipation through him. The thought of touching him, of having him all to himself, made Rody’s pulse quicken.
Without another thought, Rody pushed his way through the crowd, his gaze never leaving the boy as he approached the bar. The tavern owner, a stout man with a grizzled beard and a leering smile, was wiping down the counter when Rody reached him.
“Excuse me,” Rody said, his voice low as he tried to keep the urgency out of it. “That boy over there-the one serving drinks. I’d like to… spend some time with him.”
The owner glanced up, his eyes narrowing as he followed Rody’s gaze to the boy. A knowing smirk spread across his face as he turned back to Rody, his voice dripping with amusement. “Vincent, you mean? I’m afraid he’s not one of the girls, sailor. He’s just here to pay off a debt.”
Rody’s heart sank, but the thought of leaving without what he so desperately wanted was unbearable. The need, the hunger, had already taken root deep inside him, and he couldn’t let it go. “I’ll pay whatever you ask,” Rody said, leaning in closer, his voice rough with desire. “I want him. Name your price.”
The owner raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by Rody’s insistence. He eyed Rody for a moment, as if weighing his options, before letting out a low chuckle. “He’s a virgin, you know,” the owner said, his tone almost teasing. “But if you’re willing to pay, I’m sure we can come to an agreement.”
Rody’s mouth went dry at the word ‘virgin.’ The thought of being the first to touch Vincent, to claim him in a way no one else ever had, was intoxicating. “How much?” Rody asked, his voice barely more than a whisper.
The owner leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest as he considered the offer. “For a pretty boy like that? I’ll need a substantial sum. Let’s say…” He named a figure that made Rody’s eyes widen, but he didn’t hesitate. The price was steep, but Rody would have paid double, triple, if it meant having Vincent for the night.
“Done,” Rody said, pulling out a pouch of coins and setting it on the counter with a heavy clink. The owner’s eyes gleamed with greed as he snatched it up, weighing it in his hand before nodding in approval.
“Very well, then,” the owner said, a sly grin curling his lips. “I’ll send him up to one of the rooms. Give me a few minutes to talk to him.”
Rody’s heart pounded as the owner called Vincent over, watching as the boy approached with a curious expression. He could see the confusion in Vincent’s eyes as the owner whispered in his ear, the way his brow furrowed slightly before he nodded, his gaze flicking briefly to Rody.
The owner clapped Vincent on the shoulder, sending him off with a curt instruction. “Up the stairs, last door on the right. Don’t keep the gentleman waiting.”
Vincent hesitated for a moment, a flicker of something-uncertainty, perhaps-crossing his face before he turned and made his way to the stairs. Rody’s breath caught in his throat as he watched him go, every step Vincent took heightening the anticipation that coiled tight in his chest.
It was only when Vincent disappeared up the stairs that Rody allowed himself to exhale, his pulse racing as he followed. The narrow hallway leading to the rooms was dimly lit, the only sound the creak of the floorboards beneath his boots. Rody’s mind was a whirlwind of desire and doubt, but as he reached the door the tavern owner had indicated, all hesitation melted away.
He knocked softly, the sound almost lost in the quiet of the hallway. A moment later, the door opened just a crack, revealing Vincent’s pale face in the sliver of light that spilled from the room.
“Come in,” Vincent said, his voice soft and uncertain as he stepped back, allowing Rody to enter.
The room was small, furnished with little more than a bed, a chair, and a washbasin. A single candle flickered on the nightstand, casting long shadows across the walls. Vincent stood near the bed, his hands clasped in front of him as he watched Rody with wide, dark eyes.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. Rody could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy, as he took in the sight of Vincent-so delicate, so vulnerable, yet with an underlying strength that drew Rody to him like a moth to a flame.
“You don’t have to be afraid,” Rody said finally, his voice rough with need as he took a step closer. “I’ll take care of you.”
Vincent’s eyes flickered with something unreadable as he nodded, his hands trembling slightly as he reached up to untie the apron around his waist. But Rody stopped him, his hand closing gently over Vincent’s.
“Let me,” Rody said, his voice softer now, the earlier urgency tempered by a strange tenderness he hadn’t expected to feel. Vincent looked up at him, their eyes meeting, and for a brief moment, Rody thought he saw something-fear, perhaps, or curiosity-flicker in those dark depths.
Slowly, carefully, Rody untied the apron, letting it fall to the floor before his hands moved to the buttons of Vincent’s shirt. His fingers brushed against Vincent’s skin as he undid each one, the touch sending a shiver through both of them. When the shirt finally fell open, revealing the smooth, pale skin beneath, Rody’s breath caught in his throat.
Vincent’s chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, his body trembling slightly as Rody’s hands moved over him, tracing the lines of his torso with a reverence that surprised even Rody himself. There was something almost sacred about this moment, about being the first to touch this boy, to claim him as his own.
But as Rody’s hands moved lower, as he began to unbuckle Vincent’s belt, he felt a pang of doubt-a flicker of guilt that gnawed at the edges of his mind. Was this really what Vincent wanted? Did he even have a choice?
“Are you sure about this?” Rody asked, his voice barely more than a whisper as he looked up at Vincent, his hands stilling on the boy’s waist.
For a moment, Vincent didn’t answer. His eyes were distant, as if lost in thought, but then he nodded, his lips parting in a soft, breathy whisper. “Yes… I want this.”
And with those words, any lingering doubt melted away. Rody leaned in, his lips pressed softly against Vincent’s, the taste of him sweet and intoxicating. The kiss was tentative at first, both of them exploring the unfamiliar sensation, but as Rody’s hands slid around Vincent’s waist, pulling him closer, the kiss deepened, growing more fervent.
Vincent’s body was warm and pliant against him, and Rody could feel the rapid beat of the boy’s heart beneath his fingertips. The sound of their breath, quickening in unison, filled the small room, mingling with the faint crackle of the candle. Rody’s mind was a blur of desire and emotion, his senses overwhelmed by the boy in his arms.
Gently, Rody guided Vincent back onto the bed, his hands never leaving the boy’s skin as they settled onto the soft mattress. Vincent’s breath hitched as Rody hovered over him, his eyes dark and wide, filled with a mixture of fear and anticipation.
“Just relax,” Rody whispered, brushing a stray lock of hair from Vincent’s forehead. “I’ll be gentle.”
Vincent nodded, his body tense beneath Rody’s, but as Rody leaned down to kiss him again, he felt the boy begin to relax, his fingers tangling in Rody’s hair as he returned the kiss with a growing urgency. There was a need in Vincent’s touch, a desperation that matched Rody’s own, as if the boy had been waiting for this moment as long as Rody had.
Rody’s hands moved lower, sliding beneath the waistband of Vincent’s trousers, and Vincent gasped, his back arching off the bed as Rody’s fingers brushed against him. The sound sent a thrill through Rody, igniting a fire in his veins that drove him to strip away the last of Vincent’s clothing, leaving the boy bare beneath him.
Vincent’s skin was flawless, untouched by the hardships of life at sea. The sight of him-so vulnerable, so perfect-made Rody’s heart ache with something he couldn’t quite name. He wanted to protect this boy, to keep him safe from the world, but more than that, he wanted to claim him, to mark him as his own.
With a tenderness that surprised even himself, Rody leaned down, pressing his lips to the hollow of Vincent’s throat, then lower, tracing a path down the boy’s chest, savoring the soft gasps and moans that escaped Vincent’s lips. Rody’s hands roamed freely, mapping out every inch of the boy’s body, memorizing the way he trembled beneath his touch.
“Sir…” Vincent’s voice was breathless, a whisper that sent shivers down Rody’s spine. The sound of the title on Vincent’s lips, spoken with such need, drove Rody to the brink of madness. He had never wanted anyone as much as he wanted Vincent in that moment.
Carefully, Rody positioned himself over Vincent, their bodies aligning perfectly as he guided himself into the boy, his movements slow and deliberate, giving Vincent time to adjust. The tight heat that enveloped him was almost too much to bear, and Rody had to bite down on his lip to keep from losing control.
Vincent’s hands clutched at Rody’s shoulders, his nails digging into his skin as he gasped for breath, his body trembling with a mixture of pleasure and pain. Rody moved with practiced ease, his thrusts slow and deep, each one drawing a soft moan from Vincent’s lips.
As the rhythm between them grew more urgent, more desperate, Rody felt a connection forming-a bond that went beyond the physical. In that moment, it wasn’t just about lust or desire. It was about something deeper, something that neither of them could fully understand but both felt with every fiber of their being.
Rody’s movements grew more frantic, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he neared the edge, but even as he gave in to the overwhelming pleasure, he kept his focus on Vincent, on the way the boy’s body responded to him, on the soft, breathless sounds that escaped his lips.
Finally, with one last, powerful thrust, Rody reached his climax, a wave of ecstasy washing over him as he spilled himself inside Vincent, his body trembling with the force of it. Vincent cried out, his own release following seconds later, his body arching off the bed as he clung to Rody, his fingers digging into his skin.
For a long moment, they lay there, their bodies entwined, their breath mingling as they came down from the high. Rody’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind a haze of emotions-desire, satisfaction, and something else, something that felt dangerously close to affection.
He rolled off of Vincent, collapsing onto the bed beside him, his body still humming with the aftershocks of pleasure. Vincent lay beside him, his chest rising and falling with shallow breaths, his eyes half-lidded and dazed.
For a moment, neither of them spoke, the silence between them heavy with the weight of what had just happened. But as Rody turned to look at Vincent, seeing the way the candlelight played off his pale skin, the way his dark hair clung to his damp forehead, he felt a warmth spreading through his chest-a warmth that had nothing to do with the physical act they had just shared.
Gently, Rody reached out, brushing a lock of hair from Vincent’s face. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice soft, filled with a tenderness he hadn’t expected to feel.
Vincent turned his head to look at Rody, his dark eyes meeting Rody’s with an intensity that made Rody’s heart skip a beat. For a moment, Vincent didn’t answer, his gaze searching Rody’s face as if trying to decipher something.
“I’m fine,” Vincent said finally, his voice barely more than a whisper. “It was… different. But not in a bad way.”
Rody smiled, a small, almost sad smile, as he reached out to take Vincent’s hand in his own. He squeezed it gently, feeling the coolness of Vincent’s skin against his own. “I’m glad,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
For a while, they lay there in silence, the only sound the distant murmur of the tavern below. Rody knew that this moment couldn’t last, that soon he would have to leave, that they would go back to their separate lives. But for now, he was content to lie there beside Vincent, to feel the warmth of his body against his own, to savor the fleeting connection they had shared.
As the candle flickered and sputtered out, plunging the room into darkness, Rody closed his eyes, pulling Vincent closer to him. The boy fit perfectly against him, like a missing piece of a puzzle Rody hadn’t known he was searching for.
And in the quiet of the night, as they lay tangled together in the narrow bed, Rody allowed himself to believe, if only for a moment, that he had found something more than just a brief, physical connection. That in Vincent, he had found something worth holding onto, even if only for a little while longer.
Rody didn’t know when he’d fallen asleep, but when he awoke, the first thing he noticed was the cold. The bed beside him was empty, the warmth that had enveloped him during the night now replaced by a chill that seeped into his bones. He blinked in the dim light of early morning, his mind sluggish as he tried to piece together where he was.
The events of the previous night came rushing back, and Rody sat up abruptly, his heart pounding in his chest. Vincent. He looked around the small room, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. Panic flared in his chest, and for a moment, Rody feared that Vincent had left without a word, disappearing into the morning mist like a fleeting dream.
But then he heard a soft rustling near the door, and Rody’s gaze snapped to the figure standing in the shadows, half-hidden by the darkness. It was Vincent, fully dressed, his back turned to Rody as he fiddled with something in his hands.
“Vincent…” Rody’s voice was rough from sleep, but the relief in it was palpable. The boy turned slowly, his expression unreadable as he met Rody’s gaze.
“Morning,” Vincent said softly, his voice as calm and quiet as it had been the night before. He stepped closer to the bed, and Rody could see that he was holding his shirt, neatly folded, along with the rest of his belongings. Vincent had been gathering his things while Rody slept.
“You’re leaving?” Rody asked, though he already knew the answer. The realization settled in his chest like a lead weight, but he pushed it aside, focusing on the boy in front of him.
Vincent nodded, his dark eyes flicking away from Rody’s face. “I have to,” he said simply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “I need to finish my shift.”
Rody felt a pang of guilt at the reminder of the life Vincent had to return to. He had paid for a night with the boy, but he hadn’t considered the reality of Vincent’s situation-the debt, the work, the life of servitude that awaited him outside of this small, fleeting moment they had shared.
“I’ll come back for you,” Rody blurted out before he could stop himself. The words hung in the air between them, raw and desperate, and Rody wasn’t even sure where they had come from. But the thought of leaving Vincent here, in this tavern, alone and at the mercy of the tavern owner, filled him with a deep, gnawing dread.
Vincent’s eyes widened in surprise, and for a moment, he looked at Rody as if he didn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Come back?” he echoed, his voice tinged with confusion.
Rody nodded, the conviction in his chest growing stronger with each passing second. “I’ll find a way to pay off your debt. I’ll take you with me when we leave the port. You don’t have to stay here.”
A strange expression crossed Vincent’s face, something like hope mixed with disbelief. He looked down at the shirt in his hands, his fingers gripping the fabric tightly. “Why?” he asked quietly, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Why would you do that for me?”
Rody hesitated, unsure how to put his feelings into words. It wasn’t just about the desire he had felt for Vincent, though that was certainly part of it. There was something deeper, something that had stirred within him the moment he had seen the boy-a connection, a need to protect him, to keep him safe.
“Because I care about you,” Rody said, the truth of the words surprising even himself. He hadn’t known Vincent long, but in the short time they had spent together, Rody had felt something that he couldn’t ignore. “I don’t want to leave you here.”
Vincent looked up, his eyes searching Rody’s face as if trying to find some hint of deception, some reason not to trust him. But Rody held his gaze, his expression open and sincere, willing the boy to believe him.
After what felt like an eternity, Vincent let out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping as if a great weight had been lifted from them. “Alright,” he whispered, his voice trembling with emotion. “But you have to promise me, Sir… promise me you’ll come back.”
“I promise,” Rody said without hesitation. He stood up from the bed, crossing the small distance between them, and pulled Vincent into a tight embrace. The boy’s body was stiff at first, but then he relaxed against Rody, his arms wrapping around him as if holding on for dear life.
They stayed like that for a long time, the morning light gradually filling the room as the sun rose outside. Rody could feel Vincent’s heartbeat against his chest, the steady rhythm reassuring him that the boy was still there, still with him.
Eventually, Vincent pulled back, his eyes red-rimmed but filled with a new determination. “I’ll be waiting,” he said, his voice steady despite the tears that threatened to spill over. “I’ll be waiting for you, Sir.”
Rody nodded, feeling a lump rise in his throat. He pressed a gentle kiss to Vincent’s forehead, a silent promise that he would return. “I’ll come back for you,” he repeated, his voice firm. “No matter what, I’ll come back.”
With one last lingering glance, Vincent turned and left the room, the door closing softly behind him. Rody stood there for a moment, the silence of the room suddenly deafening in Vincent’s absence. But he knew what he had to do. He would find a way to pay off Vincent’s debt, to free him from the life he had been trapped in.
As Rody dressed and gathered his own belongings, his thoughts were consumed by plans and possibilities. He would find a way to save Vincent, to give him the life he deserved-a life far away from this place, where they could be together, free from the constraints of the world around them.
And as he left the tavern and made his way back to the ship, Rody felt a newfound sense of purpose burning within him. He would return to this town, and when he did, Vincent would be there, waiting for him. And together, they would sail away, leaving the past behind and forging a new future-one where they could finally be free.
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