Pre-Cursor || Castaway AU
Benjy hates this ship, but it certainly beats where he’s coming from. Benjy grew up the second oldest in a family of four brothers-five if you counted him, which many didn’t. His father, as wealthy as he is lecherous, had multiple affairs throughout his life, but only one was unfortunate enough to result in a bastard. Some nonsense about honor had landed him in his father’s manor, but that nonsense only stretched so far. While his half brothers spent their youth growing up in the lap of luxury, Benjy spent his pushed to the side, tucked carefully behind closed doors, only trotted out only when absolutely needed. The servants were told he was a distant nephew, the family was told he was an orphan, the child of old friends. In truth, Benjy was an open secret. His features were unmistakably his father’s, which only resulted in exceedingly extreme cruelty from the woman he was made to call Mother. Even Ezra, his brother only a year younger and undoubtedly the closest thing Benjy had to a friend, soon grew to treat Benjy differently. He ate meals with the rest of the family, but, once the children were dismissed, Benjy went left down the hallway towards the smaller rooms while each of his brothers turned right, going to progressively larger and grander chambers. Still, he didn’t want for much in terms of material things. Just in terms of attention, or love or feeling wanted.
There were other reasons for his exclusion, he knew that too. Benjy wasn’t an idiot. Far from it actually-he was the best out of all of his brothers at writing, at understanding words on a page, at drawing, the harpsichord. At, as his father liked to helpfully remind him whenever he got the chance, all of the subjects that were only “good for women.” He was smaller than any of them, both in height and size, even thought he was twenty, he resembled a boy of about fourteen or fifteen, with the strength and prowess to match. While his brothers, even the young ones, wooed women at balls and socials, Benjy hung towards the wall, enjoying the way the dancers moved together and trying his hardest not to make it obvious his interest was not in the women.
It wasn’t natural, the way Benjy couldn’t help himself when he saw beautiful men. It was vile, horrible, and yet, he couldn’t make himself stop. He’d even tried to pray, but, once he was down on his knees, the words did not come to him. They never did. Praying seemed pointless when Benjy had known his fate since he was thirteen.
His mother who wasn’t his mother at all had a cousin with a bunch of single daughters-of course, that side of the family had moved to Australia shortly after Benjy had been born, and the cousin was now a wealthy shipping industry tycoon and eager to marry off the least fashionable daughter to someone with a somewhat notable pedigree-and that’s where Benjy came in. Australia was always some sort of vague threat, something lurking on his horizon, and now, here he was, aboard a charted ship towards the continent he was not expected to return from. His soon to be father in law had secured Benjy a seat-the only passenger seat, really-on one of his ships that was due to return from England. His departure had been brief and only tear filled on Benjy’s side-and that was only when he was alone in his cabin.
It said something-not anything nice-that the hired hands on the ship were kinder to him than most of his family, but still, Benjy could tell he was largely in the way aboard the vessel. All the men had jobs to do and all Benjy did all day was wander the decks, sketch, and try to take up as little space as he could.
It was too late for one of these such wanderings, but here he was. They’d been at sea for almost two weeks, and Benjy had finally gotten used to walking around and didn’t fall over nearly as much. Nearly being the key word-the ship had hit some rough waves and Benjy had tumbled rather ungracefully through a hole in the main deck that he knew led to where the crew slept. The crash he’d made had been rather loud, but then again, so were most things on the ship. He laid pathetically for a moment at the bottom of the ladder, sore but certain nothing was broken other than his ego, half hoping someone would hear simply because it would mean someone would touch him, but no one came. Benjy lets out a sigh and sits up carefully, dusting off the shoulder’s on his green velvet coat. He moves to climb up the ladder when he hears....giggling?
Benjy freezes as something hot surges through his stomach. Embarrassment at first, because he naturally assumes they’re laughing at him, but once Benjy realizes he’s very alone in this hallway (save for some coils of rope), the heat turns into curiosity with a little bit of something else. It’s that something else, and maybe that evilness that he can’t quash inside him, that leads Benjy down the hall towards the sound. It’s dark in the hallway, but there are lit lanterns flickering with just enough light that Benjy is able to make his way towards what can only be the crew’s cabins without making much noise.
The door is open, but its dark enough that when Benjy freezes again in the shadows, neither of the men inside seem to notice him-though of course they seem a little too pre-occupied to notice anything.
“Shall I blow the candle out?” A voice asks, deep in a way Benjy has never heard before. The voice’s owner moves into the light of the candle and Benjy recognizes him immediately-Amos, one of the only sailors who took the time to talk to him. From their brief interactions Benjy knew he had grown up poor somewhere in London and that his Indian parents had given him a “nice English name” in hopes that he could make it somewhere. His beauty was matched only by the kindness in his smile, and Benjy would be lying if he said he hadn’t imagined a similar sort of tryst with the man who was currently pulling his loose white shirt over his head.
“Leave it.” Another voice says, sharper and somehow even more lustful as a pair of strong tanned arms snake around Amos’s bare middle. Benjy has to stop himself from gasping as the other sailor comes into view, kissing the back of Amos’s neck. He was the tall one, with beautiful blonde curls Benjy always found himself staring at. Benjy didn’t even know his name and the other man made no moves to offer anything other than a polite “hello, sir.” and a nod whenever they crossed paths. His scowl was a constant whenever Benjy saw him, but now his mouth makes giggles as Amos hands him a previously unseen amber bottle.
“I rarely get to see you when I fuck you, it’ll be such a nice treat for me.”
Amos laughs as all the breath in Benjy’s body leaves him.
“Presumptuous of you, Cassiel.”
“Is it?” Cassiel replies, handing Amos back the bottle and crossing around to the front of him to kiss him deeply on the mouth. Benjy tastes blood as he bites down hard on his bottom lip, his heartbeat is thudding in places he’d never felt come to life before. He knows he should leave, that what they’re doing is wrong and Benjy watching makes him wronger still, but his feet might as well be nailed into the boards beneath them.
“Is it so wrong that I want to see what you look like when you make those lovely little sounds for me?”
“Dammit...” Amos’s sentence breaks off into a gasp as Cassiel slowly kisses down the front of his chest, falling to his knees in a way that makes the act look far more appealing than any prayer Benjy has ever uttered.
“Are you going to answer my question, love?”
“You’ll be the ruin of me.”
Benjy watches as Cassiel smirks and without further fanfare, pulls down Amos’s trousers. In his profile view, he can’t quite see what’s happening, it’s only when Amos’s hands bury themselves in Cassiel’s blonde curls and a different sort of noise starts to emit from the room does Benjy put two and two together.
He was kissing him....down there. Was that a thing one could do? Surely it was, for it was happening in front of Benjy’s very eyes. It is suddenly too much, too private, too achingly unfamiliar. Benjy finds his feet and his senses, and scurries back down the hallway, his breath hard and his own trousers suddenly too tight. Benjy places two shaking hands on the highest rung he can reach, and, just as he’s about to pull himself back up towards the safety of his familiar and boring cabin, the boat lurches violently. The last thing Benjy remembers before the word goes black is the rung of the ladder breaking under his fingers.
