mostly mötley crĂŒe slash fanfiction || sometimes guns n' roses, megadeth and other classic rock bands || main blog: @arnold-layne || Rockfic: Nikki Dexter || accepting oneshot requests or headcanons || Masterlist || Ficbook
My life got very stressful and very busy the last couple months, no time left for writing at all, let alone continuing my ongoing fics
I do try to write a bit now and then, because i just canât not write, but itâs an original wip atm
I hope iâll be able to come back to crue fanfiction and continue my fics eventually, when life stops being a living hell, but yknow. idk when that happens
Sorry for inactivity, itâs not because i lost interest in the fandom or anything, i swear
HOLY SHIT???? His eyes are just that sort of insane that i aimed for!! And the black figures all around him show so well how his world has shrunkâŠ. ouughhh
Hey, it's M6 hope you're good!!!! Just checking in. Also, I wanted to ask about In Darkness Shall You Be Reborn. No rush of course. Has that story been discontinued đ
hey nice to see you still hanging around <3 donât worry i didnât decide to discontinue pirates i could never. i have an Ending for this story and im gonna deliver it to youâŠ.someday. itâs just that iâve generally been very busy&tired&depressed, so my creative energy is nearly in the negative. not just for pirates, for writing in general. sorry for making you wait for so long :(
not to be annoying, just wanted to say happy holidays, and also 'what is lost what is found' is adorable and my fave comfort fic. since it probably won't continue(?) may we know what ending you had in mind? or at least hints as to where it was going to go then finish? as a vinikki and tommick shipper I was rooting for both couples the whole story, however polyam or even just platonic family sunset ending would also have been lovely. ty for sharing your writing, *in my Vince voice* it's choice
aw thank u so much it's so nice to hear that your old asf fic is still making people happy <3 and sorry for such a delay, im like barely alive rn trying to get all those assignments done. regarding the ending...
tbh i had like very vague concepts of where it should go but never came up with a proper ending. i planned to show nikki's struggle with drugs and depression, him running away from home for several days, dealing with his anger issues, all of this stemming from childhood neglect and untreated depression. with vince, i planned to show the consequences of childhood sexual abuse by his dad, resulting in him whoring around looking for validation from strangers (often adults), believing that he only has worth as long as he's sexually attractive to others. with tommy, i actually remember nearly nothing of what i planned his arc to be :( something along the lines of trying to be a perfect child, people pleaser, and caring very deeply about his found family and thus constantly trying to mitigate the behavioral issues of nikki and vince? something like that. i planned for vinikki (of course) and the boys trying to start a band together and mick going back to playing guitar or something like that. honestly for my not so good mental state at the time of starting it that fic was too wholesome, and for my writing abilities - way too complex, i wouldn't have done it justice. i don't know if i'll ever come back to it, if i do i'll probably rewrite it from the start, but im definitely still not in the right place for it. still, i'm happy that what i did manage to write makes you a little bit happier :)
Word count: 5302
Warnings: violence, NON-CON, vomit
A/N: we're finally here fellas. after such a long time. here comes the second sex scene. (proceed with caution)
âYouâre in luck â it didnât inflame,â Izzy said, wrapping back the bandage around Vinceâs arm. âNow the shoulder⊠Hm, also not bad. Iâm almost sure youâre gonna live.â
âAlmost?â
âWell, men die of stupidest of reasons. A wave might hit the ship while youâre on pooping deck and youâll fall overboard. Only God knows how youâll die.â
Wrong, Vince thought grimly. He was pretty sure how he would die. From Nikkiâs hands or complications of injuries he would give â or had given - him. But he didnât tell Izzy that.
âAlright, I can safely say youâre one of the healthiest people on this ship right now, so off you go. I have many more patients to attend.â
âAnyone with something serious?â
âBret had his knee ligaments cut. I doubt heâll ever walk unassisted again. Dave had his hand cut off, and I donât like the look of his stump. But thatâs probably it. We got off this one very lightly.â
âWe did. Thanks, man.â Vince got up from the bunk. âSee you.â
The sun shone brightly on the deck, and the dried blood made the ship smell like a slaughterhouse. Not that Vince had ever been in one, but that was what he imagined a slaughterhouse would smell. A crewmate he didnât know was washing the deck in a very leisurely fashion, his face grim. Vince should have been in his place, but Mick convinced Tommy he needed him on the galley, and Vince was very thankful. The food didnât smell as bad, at least.
His gratitude disappeared when Vince returned to the galley and was immediately berated.
âI said, ten minutes max! Youâve been away at least half an hour!â Mick raged. âDid Stradlin conduct a full-body exam there or something?â
To be honest, Vince and Izzy did spend some time over a mug of beer, but to Vince it seemed barely five minutes long. Either Mick was way exaggerating the time he was away, or the beer really messed up Vinceâs perception of time. Whatever it was, Vince didnât want to anger Mick, who had just barely warmed up to him again.
âSorry,â he raised his hands in an apologetic gesture. âWhat do you need me to do?â
âBring plates and cutlery up on the deck while I watch the pot. Weâre already late with breakfast.â
Vince had already learned, through trial and error, how to climb up onto the deck with one hand holding a stack of plates. Though it did help that they were made of tin. At first Vince was disgusted at the mere thought of eating off them, stained no matter how hard he washed them, making food taste metallic, but now he didnât care. He was happy as long as there was food on those plates.
Pirates, seeing him line up plates on the deck, began gathering around him. Thereâd never been conflicts over food, because everyone got their share, but everyone wanted to get the portion from the top of the pot, where it didnât burn and stick to the bottom. Vince, by virtue of being the one distributing, usually got his portion one of the last, so he sure understood them. But as much as Vince looked, he couldnât see the captain and his first mate. Which was bad, because if they wouldnât come out on deck to get their portions themselves, he would have to deliver them to the cabin, and Vince had no desire whatsoever to go there.
Soon Mick brought out the steaming hot pot of porridge, a loaf of bread and a jug of beer. Everyone got their portions. The captain and his first mate didnât come.
The porridge tasted more metallic than usual, like someone dripped blood in it. But the color was the usual greyish beige, the thickness the same too. That was probably just a particularly shitty plate.
Mick had set aside two plates for the captain and the first mate, but didnât yet tell Vince to go deliver them. He probably just forgot, and Vince kept nursing hope that they would come out and get their portions themselves eventually. At least until the porridge gets cold, because it was even less edible that way and was sure to piss Nikki off.
Finally Vince saw Tommy walk out of the cabin and head towards them with a springy step.
âOh, I see breakfast is already over,â he said upon approach. âHope you left some for us, Mick?â
âOf course I did.â Mick rolled his eyes. âI am not yet ready to walk the plank.â
âOh, donât exaggerate. Nikki is unpleasant when hungry, but not that unpleasant.â Tommy turned to Vince. âCâmon. Help me bring Nikki the food.â
And here it was, his biggest fear. He only hoped Tommy was gonna eat with Nikki and hold him back somewhat.
Vince put a piece of bread on the edge of the plate and grabbed it with one hand and a mug of beer with the other. Tommy did the same with his portion and immediately took a sip from his mug.
âEw, warm. Letâs go.â
They walked across the deck to the captainâs cabin, a knot of fear in Vinceâs stomach growing tighter with every step. Then, when they reached the cabin, instead of knocking on the door Tommy turned to him.
âHeâs still mighty pissed over Hetfieldâs betrayal. So if you wanna walk out of here on your own two feet: donât act up. Donât look him in the eye. Donât resist. Donât talk back. Just do what he says, alright? You have only brushed the surface of what heâs capable of. Donât dive deeper.â
âWell, thatâs encouraging,â Vince tried to spit out a laugh, to show he was not afraid, but it sounded more like a pained choke and didnât convince Tommy in any way whatsoever. He sent Vince a sharp gaze and turned to kick the door - his hands were occupied.
Nikki opened after one kick. He looked like he had a very bad night: disheveled, his features deeper and sharper than usual, his pupils so wide they almost fully covered the irises. The draft flowing through the door carried with it a strong smell of spirits.
âFinally,â he said, his voice hoarse. âIt sure took you a lot of time to fetch him, T-bone.â
âCâmon, I was away for hardly more than five minutes,â Tommy said cheerily, like it wasnât him just warning Vince of Nikkiâs awful mood. âHe brought you breakfast, too. Please eat; it helps the hangover.â
Oh. Nikki didnât send for breakfast, which incidentally included Vince. He sent for him in particular, which was way worse than Vince thought.
âEggs donât teach the chicken,â Nikki grumbled. Then, in a more businesslike voice, continued. âI want you to send men to scour the Metallica; I heard theyâve had a good raid recently, maybe they havenât spent it all yet. Take anything we can sell. Also bring in Mick so he can look at the food and see what we can take. I want this ship looted to the last hold.â
âYou want to sell it or drown?â
âDrown, of course. His Majesty the King will surely look for his faithful servants, and we donât want to leave any traces.â
âPity.â Tommy sighed. âSheâs a good ship. Iâll be on my way then. Have fun, you two.â
Vinceâs stomach dropped. Yeah, that was going to be exactly what he feared. Fun for Nikki, sure; for Vince? Not so much.
The door closed behind him, cutting of the light of the sun and the fresh sea air. The cabin was dark and stuffy inside, the curtain barely letting in sunlight. Everything was in disarray. What was he even doing here to make such a mess?
âDonât just stand there! Put the food on the table!â Nikki ordered in an irritated voice. Then he looked the table over and pushed a few empty bottles and books off it to make space for the plate and the mug. Vince carefully lowered them on the table and backed off, trying to get out of Nikkiâs sight. Maybe heâd just forget about him then.
Nikki sat down to eat and poked the porridge with his spoon.
âThis looks like glue,â he said. âTastes, too. Did Mick cook it?â
âYes.â
âWeird. His cooking game is usually better than this.â Still, despite his distaste, he began eating rather hungrily. A hangover does that to a man, Vince thought.
âIâm also gonna ask him about your performance,â Nikki said suddenly. âGotta make sure youâre earning your food and not slacking off.â
âIâm not,â Vince said carefully, rubbing at the already permanent creases on his fingers from all the dish-washing.
âYeah, yeah, sure.â Nikki finished his porridge and reached for his beer. âTell me more about how hardworking you are.â
Vince bit his lip to not let out a spiteful remark. This was a man spending the majority of his days drinking in his cabin or messing around with his first mate. Sure, maybe he slaved away earlier in life to get where he was, but now he had no right to tell Vince he wasnât hardworking enough.
âTruth stings, huh?â Nikki grinned, spotting Vinceâs changed expression. âIn my opinion, you have too much free time on your hands. Mickâs got a soft spot for you â I didnât expect that of him, but whatever - and lets you slack off, but Iâm gonna put an end to this. In between working the galley youâll also be cleaning my cabin.â
Vince clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug deep into his palms. It wasnât even extra work that bothered him â it was just that it would be even harder to avoid the captain. And cleaning his cabin, constantly being watched by him, subject to whatever he wished to do at any moment in time⊠hell on earth.
Nikki watched him with a smug grin.
âWell, what do you say?â
âDoes it matter what I have to say?â Vince said through gritted teeth. Nikkiâs grin widened.
âThatâs right, it doesnât. Glad you understand that.â He rose from his chair and stepped towards Vince.
Vince stepped back before his brain could even process the act. He stared at Nikkiâs feet, ready to catch the next step he would make. But Nikki didnât, just tilted his head and crossed his arms on his chest.
âBacking away from me, huh? Donât want me to touch you?â
A question with no right answers. Again. As usual, Vince didnât reply, just kept staring at Nikkiâs feet. He refused to look Nikki in the eyes, but not because he was guilty; he feared what he could see behind that grin, in these cold green eyes. Rage. Hate. Lust.
Nikki stepped forward. Vince stepped back.
âYouâre afraid of me? You think I will hurt you?â
Of course I am. Of course you will.
âYou think thereâs a reason for me to hurt you? Is that because youâre guilty of something?â
Another step. Vince stepped back, words hardening in his throat, not willing to leave his mouth. He shook his head ferociously, but Nikki wasnât convinced.
âLook at you. All shaking, staring at the floor. Thatâs not a look of an honest man that has nothing to hide.â
Another step. Vince backed away â and his foot met resistance. He pressed his back into the wall of the cabin. There was no way out â Nikki stood between him and the door.
âI didnât do it.â The words finally spilled out of his mouth. âI didnât conspire with that man, Hetfield. Iâve never met him.â
âI didnât even say anything about Hetfield, and your first thought was him? Thatâs what you think youâre guilty of?â
Nikki was very close now, mere inches between them. Vince shrunk his head into his shoulders. Nikkiâs breath ruffled his hair.
âNo,â Vince croaked. The knot of fear in his stomach spread into his limbs, making his hands shake and his throat close up. âI just- you lashed out at me for this in the galley. So I thought-â
âYou thought,â Nikki said slowly and cupped Vinceâs chin gently. For now. âYou definitely have too much free time on your hands.â
And then his grip hardened, and he slammed Vinceâs head into the wall. Sharp pain spiked through Vinceâs skull, the world went white for a second. His hands instinctively flew up and grasped at Nikkiâs arms, but his grip was unyielding. Nikkiâs nails were digging into Vinceâs cheek so deeply Vince feared they would tear right through the thin skin.
âI wonder when you managed to do that.â Nikkiâs voice was as though coming from afar, even though his face was inches away from Vinceâs. âMeet up with Metallicos, I mean. It sure happened in Port Royal, but Iâve been keeping an eye of you the entire time. So when?..â
âI didnât.â Vinceâs voice betrayed him and came out really hoarse and quiet. âI never met up with any-â
Another slam. Pain flashed in the back of his head and spread through it like a spiderâs web, enveloping Vinceâs brain, evaporating every coherent thought. He didnât even notice he bit through his lip until his saliva tasted metallic.
âLiar,â Nikki said coldly. âFilthy, dirty liar. Caught red-handed and still trying to weasel away from it. Typical for your kind.â
What kind, a thought flashed through Vinceâs mind, but it was gone as fast as it came. He was frantically searching for words that would convince Nikki he was innocent â and couldnât. Whatever he said, Nikki would find a way to turn it against him.
He spoke anyway. âIf I conspired with them. I wouldnât kill those two. In the galley.â
âMaybe you realised they were losing and tried to cover your ass.â Nikki narrowed his eyes.
âI didnât know what was going on. I didnât know who they were. I swear!â The last word rose in pitch and trailed off. Nikki looked at Vince⊠not with hate, not with rage. Like an artist admiring his work of art.
âAnyway, that doesnât matter now. All the Metallicos are dead, and Iâll make sure you have no chance to plan against me ever again.â
And then he released his grip. Turned out it was the only thing holding Vince upright, and now he slid down the wall, his knees weak. His heart was racing, his vision blurry. Dull pain spread from the back of his head, fogging his thoughts.
He forced himself to stay alert and watch Nikki, who stepped back, looking Vince over, another smug grin on his lips. Seeing that cold, handsome face, the face of a person who held Vinceâs fate in his hands and fiddled with it however he wanted, cemented Vinceâs fear into hate. No one should be allowed to wield complete power over a person. That makes them think themselves godly.
âOn your knees,â Nikki said.
Tommyâs words came to mind. Donât resist. You have only brushed the surface of what heâs capable of.
Vinceâs elbows shook when he tried to prop himself up from the floor. White flashed before his eyes at the mere movement, making him halt to come to his senses. Nikki didnât like the wait.
âHurry up!â He kicked Vince in the side. âIâm not wasting an entire day on you!â
Vince suppressed a pained cry and scrambled to get onto his knees. He already had a suspicion, and now that Nikki began unfastening his belt, it proved itself true.
âI donât know how to do this,â Vince said hoarsely. He didnât even know why he said that. It sure wouldnât convince Nikki not to do it. âIâve never-â
âThen itâs time to learn,â Nikki replied cheerfully. His hand ruffled Vinceâs hair, then gripped onto it and pulled his head back.
âYou canât imagine how gorgeous you are,â he said, rubbing Vinceâs temple with his thumb, âlike this. Thatâs where you belong.â
A hot ball of shame burst in Vinceâs stomach, poisoning his whole body. He really wished his family thought he was dead. Because he wouldnât be able to look them in the eye after this.
His face must have reflected his thoughts, because Nikki pulled at his hair and laughed.
âDonât like that? But itâs true. The faster you learn to accept it, the better for you.â
Then he unbuttoned his pants and took out his half-hard cock. Vince couldnât hold back a grimace - Nikki must have not washed himself since Port Royal. Vince too, sure, but he wasnât making anyone smell his crotch, after all.
âYeah, seafaring life has its limits. Get used to it,â Nikki said, lining the tip of his cock to Vinceâs lips. âOpen your mouth. And mind your teeth.â
Yeah, it tasted even worse than it smelled. Vinceâs first instinct was to spit it out, but Nikkiâs grip on his hair was too tight. Instead Vince concentrated on suppressing his retching. Surely Nikki wouldnât be pleased if he vomits all over his cabin.
Nikki didnât give him much time to get used to it. He thrusted his hips forward impatiently, making Vince gag.
âIf you donât work on it yourself, Iâll just fuck your throat,â he threatened.
Yeah, he would surely vomit if Nikki did that. Vince had no other choice.
He recalled what the maids and prostitutes he slept with did and tried to copy that: carefully run his tongue along Nikkiâs cock, then moved his head up and down the length. These whores were professionals, after all. He should have been paying attention to their techniques.
Nikkiâs trembling gasp told him he was doing the right thing. His fingers grasped Vinceâs hair tighter.
âKeep it up,â he ordered. âJust like that.â
Vince began moving his lips up and down Nikkiâs cock, alternating speeds: slower, faster, slower again. It was harder than he thought: soon his knees began to hurt, and his tongue got tired. That was when he made a mistake.
âOuch! Teeth!â Nikki pulled Vinceâs head back by the hair, his cock slid out of Vinceâs mouth. âTold you to be careful, little bastard!â
Then he slapped Vince with his free hand. It wasnât really strong, or painful, but Vinceâs poor head had gone through a lot that day already, so the world went blurry for a couple moments. Vince blinked forcefully to clear his vision and saw Nikki, frowning, expecting an answer.
âSorry, sir.â He wiped a string of saliva on his chin. âYou know Iâve never done this before.â
âThatâs the only reason youâre not getting your ass kicked right now,â Nikki grumbled, pulling Vince back to his crotch. âBut only this first time.â
Sucking dick turned out to be harder than Vince expected. He had to fold his lips under his teeth, and that made them go numb really fast. It was especially hard when moving quickly, and Nikki was at the stage of arousal when slowing down would anger him. To be fair, though, Vince managed that in completely non-sexual situations just as well, so the issue probably ran deeper than that.
âCome on,â Nikki growled, rocking his hips forward. âFaster!â
Now that his cock was fully hard, the threat of vomiting all over the cabin was getting more and more real. And Nikki, dissatisfied with Vinceâs speed, took the matter into his own hands â literally: he wrapped his hands around Vinceâs head and began violently thrusting into his mouth. The very throat-fucking he threatened Vince with.
It did not go well at all. Vinceâs eyes watered, breath faltered, the dull pain in the back of his head sharpened and spread. And, the worst of it, his breakfast rose to his throat, threatening to spill out every second.
Vince frantically tapped on Nikkiâs arm, trying to attract attention, but Nikki didnât even notice. Trying to wrangle his head out of Nikkiâs grip also failed. Nikki was so consumed in the action he didnât even notice Vinceâs fussing.
Well, there was no other choice. Vince pushed Nikki away, and when his hands met resistance, kicked him in the knee, making him gasp in pain, lose balance and fall. But that did make Nikki release his grip, letting Vince turn in the opposite direction and empty his stomach on the floor.
The porridge looked only slightly better on the plate than it did now. But it sure smelled and tested better, not mixed with stomach bile then. The taste was so bitter and nauseating that for a second Vince considered licking the wooden cabin floor, just to wipe it off his tongue.
He heard Nikki groan behind him and turned his head just in time to see him get up from the floor and limp towards him. The expression on his face made Vinceâs already long-suffering stomach drop.
âIâm sorry-â he began, but Nikki didnât let him continue. With a strong kick he turned Vinceâs body on his stomach, grabbed his hair and slammed his head against the floor.
This time it took Vince longer to come around, and it wasnât pleasant. For a second he was sure he went blind, but then the vision returned, blurry, with white sparkles dancing in front of his eyes. And a sharp pain where Nikkiâs hand pulled him by the hair.
âYou little, dirty-â he heard, the words barely audible through the ringing in his ears. âEat your own shit.â
And then he dragged Vince to the puddle of vomit. Just before Nikki pressed his face into it, Vince propped himself up on his arms, his face inches away from the puddle. It was good he wasnât wearing a shirt anymore â his skin didnât soak it up like fabric would.
âEat, dog!â Nikki growled, pressing on the back of Vinceâs head. Pain spread through his neck and shoulders, but by mere miracle Vince kept his head up. He was willing to go far to not anger Nikki, but this was farther than that.
While Nikki was occupied pressing onto his head, Vince fumbled his leg until it met resistance â and then kicked as hard as he could. He hit the target: Nikki hissed in pain and let him go â just for a moment, but it was enough for Vince to roll away from the puddle of vomit, scraping his elbows on the hard floor.
Nikki was rubbing his leg and wincing â apparently, Vince kicked him in the injured one. Otherwise Nikki wouldnât let him go so easily after just a kick, Vince realised. And he sure wasnât going to let him go so easily now. Vince pissed him off so bad his face wasnât even twisted in anger â it was now an expressionless mask, and his eyes were black, like a demonâs, even though his pupils were probably just unnaturally wide.
Nikki walked towards him. Vince crawled away â or, rather, tried to, because Nikki gripped his ankle and dragged him back to the center of the room.
âI was willing to let you go unharmed today if you pleased me,â he said, voice low. âBut you didnât please me at all.â
Then he kicked Vince in the ribs. One kick, two, three⊠then Vince lost count. Putting his arms in the way didnât help at all, so he curled up in an embryoâs pose and covered his head with his hands, but Nikki still managed to get to the most vulnerable spots on his body.
âScream!â Nikki yelled, kicking him once again. âScream for fucking mercy!â
Vince would have, but he had no voice left. The only sound he could manage was quiet wheezing. He couldnât even breathe: just as he inhaled, Nikkiâs boot would kick the air out of his lungs. The edges of his vision darkened, his tongue tasted blood in addition to stomach bile. At some point he distinctly felt one of his ribs crack under the assault.
Vince didnât properly register when it all stopped: the pain consumed his whole being, dimmed all his perceptions. It took him a couple minutes to realise the kicks werenât coming anymore. He peeked between his arms and saw Nikkiâs legs pacing back and forth in and out of his field of vision. The floor planks vibrated under his feet.
Vince tried to inhale and began to cough violently. Blood splattered on the floor under his mouth. But when he finally got some air into his lungs, his chest exploded with pain. One of the ribs was tangibly shifting under his skin, every its movement sending sharp spikes of pain throughout his torso. Oh god. Was that even curable?
Nikki approached and squatted next to him. All Vince could see were his boots, boots that had just rammed into his flesh, bruising and breaking it. Then Nikkiâs hand came into view and pushed Vince in the shoulder, turning him onto his back.
âSo, how do you like that?â Nikki said completely casually. Vince would laugh at the contrast if it didnât hurt so much.
âI donât,â he croaked, his voice so raspy it was like his vocal cords got tied in a knot, and wiped snot and blood from his lips and chin. âDo you?â
âDoes a teacher enjoy beating his bratty student? Or does he do it out of concern, to help him grow into a good person?â Nikki said philosophically.
âI think you do,â Vince continued, ignoring his reply. âWe both know you arenât doing this to make me better or something. It arouses you, to beat me up, to humiliate me. You get off of it.â
Nikki looked at him silently for a while, his expression unreadable. Then an uncanny grin widened on his face.
âI think youâre forgetting who youâre talking to here. Itâs a big problem of yours, forgetting what your place is. We should work on that.â
He rose from the floor, his hand reaching for a knife on his belt. Whatever he was going to do Vince already didnât like. But mere movement caused so much pain he could only writhe on the floor, let alone protect himself. When Nikki pried his body with his boot and turned him onto his stomach, his rib â broken? cracked? â reacted to it with a burst of pain so violent tears welled in Vinceâs eyes. He breathed heavily, every inhale painful, and stared at the floor, where his blood, snot and tears all trickled down and mixed into small puddles. It was all foreplay to him, wasnât it? Maybe Nikki was finally gonna fuck him and leave him alone. It now seemed the best thing out of all Nikki did to Vince today.
Then something heavy lowered onto Vinceâs butt and pressed him to the floor, making him hiss in pain. Nikki saddled him from behind and fidgeted there a bit, getting comfortable. Then his cold fingers gently ran across Vinceâs back.
âSo soft, and not a single defect. Skin can tell a lot about a person, you know. Yours, for example, reveals just how easy a life youâve had.â Nikkiâs hand gathered loose strands of hair sticking to Vinceâs back and moved them to his ears. âWe should fix that.â
Vince knew what he was going to do, but this knowledge didnât reduce the pain in a slightest. When the blade submerged into his skin just above his right shoulder blade, Vince couldnât hold back whimpering. Much as he wanted to endure it like a man, with silent dignity, it didnât happen. Fear, pure primal fear struck him, and he began kicking his legs, twisting his hips and flailing his arms, trying to push Nikki off his back.
Nikki was heavy enough that it didnât bother him much, but it did interrupt the process, so he pressed Vinceâs head to the floor with one hand and shifted his weight to it. Vinceâs legs and arms couldnât reach him now, and the pressure to his poor head and the all-consuming pain rendered him barely conscious.
He could only lay here and take it all in. Sharp pain following the knife carving something on his skin; hot drops of blood rolling down his back and drip onto the floor; throbbing ache in his lower chest; cold hard wooden floor; nauseating smell of vomit and blood; the heaviness of Nikkiâs body on his own. It all was so much that he didnât notice himself scratch the floor so hard his fingers left bloody traces on it.
At some point Vince lost consciousness. He wasnât sure how much time he spent that way and how soon Nikki discovered it, but the awakening â a bucket of cold water â was extremely unpleasant.
âHell no, you ainât missing out on this,â Nikki said, throwing the bucket away. It rattled loudly across the floor, the sound as though driving nails into Vinceâs head. Then Nikki got down to continue his work.
Vince couldnât scream or cry anymore: he went out of tears, and his throat was so parched no sound could come out of it. He wished for death to come take him. Why had God forsaken him? Sure, he wasnât overly pious in his life, he made his mistakes and committed his sins, but was it really so bad as to warrant such a punishment? Did he die in that first battle, and this was his own private hell? Was Nikki really human, or the Devil that had personally come to torture Vince? Was it all even real? Was he still alive? Was this pain forever?
He didnât notice Nikki stop: the carving on his back burned too hot, too sharp to acknowledge whether there were still changes made to it. But then Nikki squatted down next to Vinceâs face, a bloody knife in his hand.
âWhat do you say now?â
Vince said nothing.
âThat is right. Finally you got it. Pity it took me all this blood and puke to get it into your stupid head.â
He rose to his feet.
âCâmon. Get up. Time to have some fun.â
Vince didnât move. Nikki sighed.
âI see. Ideally, I should punish you for not following my orders, but, quite frankly, Iâve had enough of that. This foreplay has got too damn long.â
He hooked his arms under Vinceâs armpits, lifted him off the floor and dropped him on the bed. The broken rib shifted under Vinceâs skin again, but he barely noticed that. He barely noticed anything, to be fair. The world was swimming in front of his eyes, completely going black some moments, the sounds came as though through a thick layer of glass. His head couldnât handle a half-coherent thought. He understood what Nikki was gonna do and he didnât care anymore. Couldnât be worse than what he had already done.
He was right. The sex was the mildest thing he had done to him that day. Vince did distantly register Nikki move inside him and moan into his back, but that was all to it. What was he even afraid of? This was so harmless, so painless. His ass might hurt for a couple hours after that, yes, but that was it. It was practically nothing.
Vince didnât know how much time had passed, but eventually Nikki came and pulled out. Then he pulled up his pants and yelled something out of the cabin door. Soon someone else came in.
âHoly shit.â Tommy.
âWhat?â
âWhat the- what the hell did you do?â
âTaught him some manners.â
âYou beat him half-dead!â
âUnfortunately, thatâs what it took.â
Silence.
âWhat do you want me to do?â
âTake him to Izzy, or to the galley, or, I dunno, drop him off in the hold somewhere. Just get him out of my sight.â
The bedsheet under Vinceâs body shifted. Tommy wrapped him in it, picked him up and carried him out of the cabin.
Vince inhaled the fresh sea breeze and blacked out.
Word count: 3740
Warnings: blood, guts, etc.
A/N: let's pretend there hasn't been nearly a month between the chapters. i like to have some writing in reserve when i post, so i usually write a little bit in advance. and writing has been especially hard lately
Vince climbed through the hatch and looked around. Nausea rose up his throat, his breakfast almost spilling out.
The deck was a bloodbath. Bodies were strewn around, missing limbs, heads, guts spilling out. Right by the hatch thin-legged Tom looked at the sky with unseeing eyes, his throat slashed so deep his head and neck were held together by a sliver of skin. An unfamiliar man lay nearby, his arm nearby slashed neatly off his body, still grasping at his saber. A smell of blood and smoke hung in the air.
Well, Vinceâs guess about the assault seemed to be correct. And the Shout crew were the ones left standing. Well, some of them. Most were sitting or lying down, Izzy fussing around them like a mother hen. But the majority seemed to be alive â for now, at least.
âOh, hey Vince!â he heard a familiar voice from behind his back. He turned around and saw Duff. With one hand he was pressing a rag to the deep cut on his forehead, with the other â holding Slash by the shoulders. Slash seemed to be unable to step on his foot and groaned every time Duff made a movement. Duff led him to a crate by the board and unceremoniously dropped him on it. âYou made it, man! We saw two Metallicos climbing down the hatch and thought you were done for.â
âApparently not.â Vince headed towards the two pirates. âWhat in the fresh hell happened here?â
âFucking Metallicos. Thought they could fool us, take us by surprise. Well, they are no more.â Slash pursed his lips. âShouldâa trained better.â
âNo damn privateer has an ounce of honor. Though, what else could we expect from the kingâs whores?â Duff continued.
âYou were attacked by privateers?â Vince blinked.
âMore like heinously betrayed,â Slash grumbled. âI knew from the start there was something fishy here. Metallicos and cooperation? Unheard of. I wonder how the captain even believed them.â
âYeah, itâs not like weâre short of gold at the moment. But he wanted more, apparently.â
âWait â cooperated?â Vince tried to clarify.
âYeah. Hetfield offered Sixx to take over a Dutch ship carrying spices to Americas. Promised a huge profit. We board it, eliminate the crew â the Dutch are poor slaves anyways â and then his men attack us! Of course, once we realised what was happening, they didnât stand a chance. But they got a few of our boys by surprise.â Duff sighed. âAnyway, weâve got both Hetfieldâs ship and the spices, so I guess weâre winning here.â
Hetfield. That was the man the Baldie and Three Fingers mentioned when they came to the galley. He gave them Vinceâs description â and, apparently, told them to search for him on the ship. How did he get to know Vince was here? And more, why did he need him? Could he recognize him on sight? Or maybe the Whartons put out a call for Vinceâs rescue together with the description?
A lump formed in Vinceâs throat. Those men could have come to save him. His family surely offered a big award for his rescue â Metallicos would absolutely want to cash in on it. And if they were privateers, maybe the Crown itself had a say in the matter. What if Vinceâs rescue was one of the reasons they attacked the Shout crew?
And he killed them. Killed them with his own hands. Sure, they were a bit nasty, but that didnât mean anything, right? A privateer is still a pirate, serving the king or not. And pirates werenât the most well-bred kind.
âDude, you alright?â Duff frowned. âYou look like youâre gonna drop dead.â
âYeah,â Vince heard himself saying, âyeah. I just need to sit down. I just need to⊠sit down.â
On shaky legs he shuffled away from the two friends and lowered himself on the deck. He killed his saviors with his own hands. He killed his own chance at rescue.
The air was filled with moans and yelling, Izzy gave commands somewhere in the distance, pirates hurried by. It was all a background noise to Vince. The thought gnawed at him, consumed him piece by piece. He was doomed to stay on the Shout till the end of his days.
He wasnât allowed to wallow in his misery for long.
âOh, here you are!â Tommy came up to him, his now bandaged hand hanging off his chest on a dirty rag. âWe need to get rid of all these damn corpses onboard, and youâre among the only ones whoâs almost unscathed. Robbin will help you.â He pointed at a grim blonde man with an eye patch crouching before one of the corpses. Vince hadnât spoken to him before, and Robbin didnât seem too eager to communicate either.
Vince rolled his eyes. âSo Iâm not a man enough to fight but a man enough to drag around corpses.â
âWe didnât let you fight not because we think you canât,â Tommy replied sharply. âWeâve seen you in practice. Thereâs a different reason.â
âWhat reason?â
âYouâll get to know it someday. But for now, youâll have to make do with what you have.â
âDid these privateers want to rescue me?â Vince asked directly. He didnât doubt Tommy would lie to him, but maybe he could see a clue in the face of the first mate.
But Tommy just grinned wide. âNot everything is about you, princess. These bastards, may they burn in hell, wanted our loot. And now they donât want anything because dead people donât need things.â
Vince sighed. Tommy wasnât as easy to crack as Mick. Or maybe Vince just didnât know him well enough. âWhat about corpses of the crew?â
âWeâll bury them with honor, so just drag them to the center of the deck. Izzy will give you some sheets to cover them with. Wait, are you bleeding?â
Vince showed him the gash in his forearm he got from the pirate. It slowly but surely soaked his sleeve in dark-red.
âOh, thatâs nothing. Iâll call Izzy, heâll patch you up in a moment. I think heâs done with the heaviest cases already. And then â corpses!â
Tommy strolled away. He was energetic and high-strung, as if the battle excitement still hadnât let him go and he had nowhere to pour it into.
Izzy came with his usual bottle of vodka and a bundle of rags.
âNot as bad as it could be,â he murmured, pouring vodka all over the gash. âIâve heard you took out two of Hetfieldâs bastards all by yourself. Nice work.â
âThanks.â Vince felt a tinge of pride. News spread fast, apparently.
Izzy dabbed a rag on the edges of the wound, wiped the blood that trickled down Vinceâs arm and bandaged the gash.
âAll done. Youâre good to go.â
âThanks. A lot of work today, huh?â
Izzy sighed heavily. âYeah.â
He left. Vince glanced at grim Robbin that he was supposed to dispose of corpses with. He didnât look one bit friendlier, but Vince surely wasnât going to do everything alone.
Robbin didnât answer his greeting, but did follow him to the first corpse. Guts that were spilling out of its stomach dragged on the deck behind it. The corpse sunk with a loud splash, and the water went wine-red in that spot for a second.
Getting the two corpses out of the galley up the hatch was an especially excruciating ordeal. Robbin on the deck pulled them upwards while Vince pushed them up from down below. The Baldieâs guts dripped all over his shirt, and Three Fingersâ boots left a trace on his cheek, and Vince, sweaty and dirty by the end of it, regretted killing them a hundred times over. Should have cut off their arms or something so they could walk out on their own and bleed out on deck.
At some point Vince lost count of how many spilled guts and cracked skulls and cut off limbs he saw that day. By the end of it he got numb and tired enough to not care. He only hoped they wouldnât make him scrub the deck as well.
There were four corpses of the crew which Vince and Robbin arranged at the center of the deck and covered with white sheets. Soon the sheets were peppered with little red spots, but the corpses werenât bleeding anymore so it didnât go beyond that. Vinceâs muscles were ringing with exertion and his legs were shaking â all those pirates sure ate too much for his liking.
When they were done, he and Robbin plopped down on the deck in a spot clean of blood to take a breath. For the first time Robbin looked Vince in the eyes and gave him a barely noticeable nod. Vince must have done well in the eyes of the pirate.
Just as he settled to have some rest and watch the sunset, he saw Mick approach him in big strides with a determined expression on his face.
âHere you are!â he said. âI need you in the galley. Dinner isnât gonna cook itself.â
âOh, come on,â Vince moaned, hiding his head between his knees. âI just spent two hours dragging corpses around, can I have some rest at least?â
âYouâll have to answer to all the hungry crewmates then. Câmon, câmon.â Mick pulled on his sleeve. With a groan, Vince rose from the deck, shook off dirt from his irreparably ruined pants and followed Mick.
***
Blood soaked into the wooden floor of the galley, and the floor was cold and wet under Vinceâs bare feet. He already dirtied his feet on the deck, so it didnât bother him much. The blood on his pants and shirt already started to harden and stink, and Vince disposed of the shirt â it was ruined beyond repair anyway. The breeches werenât much more pleasant to stay in, but he couldnât walk around the ship naked. He hadnât fallen so low yet.
âWhich one of them broke her?â Mick suddenly asked as he lit up a lamp.
âThe one with three fingers.â
âThe one whose stomach you cut open?â
âYeah.â
âDid he suffer? Or did he die quickly?â
âOne doesnât negate the other.â
Mick sighed. âYeah, thatâs true.â
He pulled out a rag, poured some water on it and gave it to Vince.
âWipe yourself up. I donât want all that blood to get into the food.â
âDo you, by any chance, have another shirt you donât need?â Vince asked, wiping blood off his chest. It dried up and stuck to the skin, and he had to rub it hard to get rid of it.
âNah, kid, you took the last one.â
âBut I canât just walk around like that.â
âYou very much can. Itâs not like itâs too cold for that, and no one cares about that bony chest of yours.â
âI care.â
âThatâs your problem. Câmon, we need to get to work. Hungry pirates after a fight are no good to deal with.â
Mick decided on regular porridge: it was quick and filling and required low effort. Muttering went across the crew when they presented them with a pot of porridge instead of meat, but the hunger prevailed. Soon quiet descended on the deck, and it was even quieter than usual during dinner: no one was eager to make jokes and talk much that day.
Nikki dined on deck with Tommy a bit away from the crew. Vince feared even to look in his direction: what if he triggered the captain with a mere glance? He was extremely enraged at him today in the galley for no reason. Well, Nikki had some reason he thought up, something related to that Hetfield man whose crew they defeated. Did he suspect Vince had something to do with their betrayal? But why? He didnât even see any of them before those two barged into the galley, let alone speak to them.
As the dinner neared its end, Nikki rose to his feet.
âFriends,â he said loudly, attracting everyoneâs attention. âCrewmates. Let us honor our dead.â
He stood over the four corpses Vince and Robbin laid on deck. A speech followed, something along the lines of âwe shared our bread, our beer and our battlesâ, reminding of each of the deadâs merits, recalling fun times together. Vince didnât listen very closely â he didnât know any of the dead. Besides, if he thought too much about what Nikki would say over his dead body, his heart would probably burst.
At the end everyone applauded very solemnly, and the corpses were gently descended into the water, with much more care than what Vince and Robbin applied. As everything was done, Nikki wished everyone good night and retired to his cabin, not sparing Vince a single look. It was a relief.
The one to spare more looks than Vince would like to was Tommy this time. Already slightly drunk, he came up to Vince, plopped on the bench next to him and invitingly patted his knee.
âCome here, sweetheart.â
Vince heaved a heavy sigh. He wasnât as afraid of Tommy as of Nikki, but all his touches and pinches and smiles were not pleasant to say the least. Tommy hadnât done anything of the sort to Vince yet â but Vince had a feeling it wouldnât last for long.
âCâmon. Donât make me wait.â Tommyâs voice hardened.
Vince looked around. Nobody but Mick noticed it, and Mick was assiduously looking away. There wouldnât be any help from him.
âI havenât finished my porridge.â Vince pointed at his half-finished plate.
âSo?â
Vince bit his lip. Yeah, Tommy probably wouldnât hit him too hard for disobeying, a smack on the head at worst. But he was also treated Vince pretty well (compared to Nikki, at least), and Vince didnât want to lose his favor.
So he set down his plate, rose from the bench and walked up to Tommy. His moment of hesitation was cut short as Tommy pulled him onto his knees with his healthy arm. Incredible how much strength there was in those lanky limbs of his.
Vince wriggled on his knees a bit, trying to get more comfortable â if that was possible in such a pose. No one looked in their direction, but it was still only a question of time.
âThatâs right, darling, get comfy,â Tommy said in his ear, hugging him with his healthy arm and drawing closer. Blood rushed to Vinceâs ears, and he dropped his head, hoping that his hair would shield him from Tommyâs eyes, would help him keep his shame to himself. But Tommy didnât let him.
âItâs alright,â he said, tucking Vinceâs hair behind his ears. âWeâre not doing anything, right? Just sitting there enjoying each otherâs company.â
âDefinitely not me,â Vince murmured, quietly but loud enough for Tommy to hear him â and grin in response.
âThatâs the princess I know. Your obedience made me a bit wary.â
He pressed Vinceâs head against his chest. For the uninformed they could look like a pair of lovers. Thankfully, the whole ship was informed enough, and the glances they were getting were quickly averted. That didnât decrease the shame pooling in Vinceâs stomach, but at least they didnât stare openly.
âHow you doing?â Tommy continued like there was nothing happening. âWas that, what, the second fight in your life?â
âYes.â
âWere you scared? I was scared at my second fight. I was barely eighteen, and there were all those grown men brandishing sabers and guns. The smoke, the blood⊠We fought, we won, and I spent the night puking over the board from sheer stress.â
Well, even seasoned pirates had their first fights, Vince reasoned. He didnât understand why Tommy was telling him this, though. What was his purpose? Get him all soft and trusting and then break it all â or let Nikki do it â to hurt him even more?
âIâm fine.â More scared of Nikki, he wanted to add but didnât.
âYeah, I see how youâre fine. Quiet, suspiciously obedient, and, oh, look at those shaking hands. Thatâs a fella who is totally fine.â Tommy cupped Vinceâs chin and turned his head to face him. Vince looked him in the eyes defiantly â see, Iâm not scared, not of you, not of anyone else.
âI have killed before,â he said. âTwo of your men, to be clear. And two today. That makes a count of four.â
âThatâs a solid count for a non-pirate. I killed only nineteen people, which, at ten years of experience, isnât much. Nikkiâs count is twice as high.â
âOnly?!â Vince choked on his own saliva. âAnd do you mean Nikki killed nearly forty?â
âWell, he says so. He might embellish the number a bit, but I think itâs pretty accurate.â
Forty kills⊠forty people dead at the hands of the captain. He took lives like he took his morning beer â quickly, easily and ruthlessly. Killing Vince would probably be like snapping fingers to him. It was probably how it all would end. The question was not if, but when.
âYouâve been pirating for ten years?â Vince decided to change the topic. Tommy seemed benevolent enough to share some information. âBut you donât look much over twenty. How old were you when you started?â
âDo I look that young?â Tommy pouted. âIâm twenty-five already. Maybe twenty-six. My parents werenât sure on an exact date. So⊠fifteen, I guess?â
âSome crew took you in at fifteen?â
âMe and Nikki, yeah. I was a cabin-boy. Not in the way you are now a cabin-boy, though. Hey!â Vince poked him in his hurt arm, and Tommy jabbed him with his elbow in response. Vince tried to use this momentary hassle to wrestle free, but Tommyâs grip was unyielding. He gave up and continued the conversation.
âAnd Nikki?â
âHe was a bit older, so he qualified as a sailor. Nineteen, maybe?â
âSo heâs now twenty-nine.â Vince examined Tommyâs face, looking for a joke, but there was not a sign of it even on Tommyâs eternally-grinning face. He must be serious.
âYou sure know how to count.â
âOnly twenty-nine, and already a captain of his own ship? How come?â
âOh, thatâs a long story. Letâs just say: a whole lot of blood got spilled.â
Tommy talked about it light-heartedly, but a shiver ran down Vinceâs spine. He wasnât sure he wanted to know the details. On the other hand, it was always useful to know who you were dealing withâŠ
âThatâs probably because he gets angry often,â he said. âSometimes without a reason. Like at me today.â
âToday?â Tommy suddenly got very serious. âOh yeah, he was mighty pissed, and as much as I explained to him that you couldnât possibly conspire with Metallicos â on account of you having never talked to a single one of them in your life â he still, I think, somewhat believes it. So you be careful around him for the next couple days. Try not to piss him off too much.â
So Nikki thought for some reason that Vince conspired with those enemy pirates of whose existence he learned a couple days ago and hadnât seen till today? And even Tommy couldnât convince him otherwise? Great, just great. Nikki didnât look like a person who would let an emotion subside by itself; he was the one to make it everyone elseâs problem. Vinceâs problem, in particular.
âIt seems me merely breathing already pisses him off,â Vince murmured.
âWell, sometimes you can be rather annoying just standing there with that expression of yours.â
âWhat expression?â Vince blinked in confusion. He might have let a grimace or two slip through, but usually tried not to let his emotions spill onto the surface. He wasnât sure if he was successful in it, though.
âWell, that expression. When you pout and look from underneath your lashes. Like youâre all high and mighty and weâre just ants under your feet.â Tommy pinched his cheek. âGet rid of that noble residue, Vinnie, or finding friends on here will be extremely difficult.â
âIâm not doing that! At least, not on purpose!â Vince pushed Tommyâs hand away. In return Tommy grabbed him by the jaw, dug his nails into the skin on Vinceâs cheeks and pulled his face very close to his.
âDonât do that.â His hot breath blew over Vinceâs face. âOr I might get angry too. And you wouldnât like it.â
Yes, Vince had to agree, he wouldnât like it. If Tommy didnât lie â and he probably didnât, seeing how he was defending Vince at the galley â he tried to talk sense into Nikki on Vinceâs behalf. With questionable results, but it counted. And Vince didnât want to lose an â it was hard to admit, but he had to â an ally.
âSorry,â he said as clearly as Tommyâs hand on his jaw allowed him too. Which was not really clear, but Tommy understood him.
âThatâs better. Now, letâs try again.â He pinched Vinceâs cheek a second time, now much more painfully. Vince gritted his teeth and said and did nothing.
Tommy was satisfied. âGood boy,â he said. âNow give me a kiss and you can go. On the cheek, donât worry,â he added, laughing at Vinceâs miserable expression.
It didnât make the situation much better, but Vince wanted to get away way more than he wanted to give the motherfucker a piece of his mind. He quickly gave him a peck on the cheek, his lips burning from the touch to the warm skin, and slid off Tommyâs knees the moment he released his grip. He couldnât see Tommy watching his retreat, but he knew the asshole was laughing.
âHey, Vince!â he heard Mickâs voice. âWhere you going? We ainât done here.â
Mick made him gather all the plates from the crewmates and only after that permitted to go to the galley with an additional ordeal of washing the dishes. But Vince was happy to, as long as he was away from all the pirates, and especially Tommy. He wasnât violent, or cruel, or particularly unpleasant today, but Vince felt sticky all over from all those little touches and small taunts. It took him all his willpower to ignore them, and now he was tired and empty and just wanted to crawl under his blanket.
He did, eventually, after all the dishes and a couple other errands from Mick were done, and passed out of sheer exhaustion the moment his head hit his rolled-up rag that served as his pillow.
Word count: 2363
Warnings: none
A/N: this chapter sucked all life out of me. i hope you like it.
âAh, Thomas! Come in, come in.â Dr. Duren smiled and pointed at the chair in front of his table. âI was going to see you a little later, after you get used to the asylum a bit, but itâs probably to the better we meet so soon. You sure have grown since the last time we met!â
Dr. Duren was a frequent guest at the Bassâs house, but Tommy stopped showing up to guests two years ago - his parents thought he would ruin their image. He didnât mind much. All the guests were always too wary of him to his face and joked about him behind his back anyway. Father called him to see Dr. Duren a couple times heâd been over, but Tommy refused every time, and eventually he ceased trying. Well, now he got his way.
âI get that a lot,â Tommy said.
âOf course, Iâd rather we met in different circumstances,â Dr. Duren continued, âbut God always knows whatâs best for usâ.
Tommy couldnât hold back a grimace. He stopped believing in all that stuff at fourteen. That was one of the reasons he was committed, in fact.
Dr. Duren smiled condescendingly. âYou may not think so now, but one day you will look back and see that it was indeed the best time and place. Please, sit.â
Tommy sat down. The chair was too low for him, and his knees stuck out too high. He tucked his legs under the chair so it wouldnât be as noticeable.
âMcKagan told me you wanted to see me.â Dr. Duren folded his hands on the table. âDo you have something to say?â
âYeah, I-â Tommy began, but then a sudden thought stopped him dead in his tracks. What if this â what heâd heard â was a warning?
No. He wanted to speak on the problem, and he would do it.
âI wanted to talk about the work you make patients do.â
âWhat about it?â Dr. Duren raised his eyebrows.
Someone breathed down Tommyâs neck. The breath was cold and smelled of rotten leaves.
âItâsâŠâ he swallowed, ânot right.â
âWhatâs not right?â Dr. Duren tilted his head. âThe labor therapy produces incredible results. Patients spend their time and energy on something tangible, they know their labor improves their own lives, they can see the results of it. I personally believe itâs one of the best treatments for mental derangement. Benefits both patients and the asylum.â
Tommy found himself at a loss of words. What could he say to that that wouldnât paint him as lazy and entitled?
âBut patients are here to be cured. Doesnât work take out of that? I mean, they could be doingâŠâ Tommy waved his hand, âhealing activities?â
Dr. Duren threw his head back and laughed.
âMy boy,â he said, âwhat âhealing activitiesâ do you mean? Water therapy? Art therapy? Behavioral correction? Theyâve got plenty of that despite work. You havenât been to our communal evenings yet, have you? Well, Iâll make sure you get there today. Patients play music, sing, dance, play board games. It provides a perfect opportunity for civil socializing. Patients that need extra therapies at other time of the day skip work to have them. We do not exploit them, I promise. We offer them a chance to grow and change the world around them.â
Well, this sounded damn convincing. Still, Tommy didnât see any happiness on patientsâ faces when they worked in the garden, nor enthusiasm in their movements. They looked more like serfs working on a lordâs field.
âThey didnât look very happy.â
Dr. Duren sighed. âThomas, no insane man ever thinks he needs to be fixed. But they are, at their core, insane. Their brain is broken. Of course they donât enjoy labor; thatâs a trait of a sane, well-adjusted man.â
âDo you also think that about me?â Tommy asked straight-forwardly.
âWell,â Dr. Duren narrowed his eyes slyly, âyouâre here to ask me to free you from work, after all.â
Tommy blinked in confusion. But he didnât say that!
âHowâd you know?â
âYour father gave me a pretty comprehensive overview of your character. I supposed youâd ask me for this favor.â
Tommyâs stomach sank. So his father not only shipped his son off to the asylum, he also told Dr. Duren nasty things about him. Tommy didnât doubt a second there was no positive descriptions of him in that overview.
âAnd will you?...â he said quietly.
For a while Dr. Duren was silent. Steps were pacing back and forth behind the door of his office. Finally, he spoke.
âNo.â
Tommy foresaw this, in a way. All this talk about usefulness of labor, of insane men not knowing what they need. He wasnât stupid; he could see that coming. But disappointment filled his mouth with bitterness.
âYou see, Thomas, your dearest father expressed only one wish to me: âMake him realise heâs not specialâ. By freeing you from labor I will go against his wish. I promise as time passes you will realise itâs good for you. You just canât see it yet.â
âYouâre no better than him,â Tommy spat out.
âIâll consider that a compliment,â Dr. Duren said warmly. âNow, dear Thomas, I have other patients to attend today. We will meet soon to discuss your⊠condition, though. Meanwhile, try to get comfortable here. Make some friends. Youâre going to need it.â
Tommy let McKagan take him away. As he walked down the corridor, his hair was being ruffled by someoneâs breath right on the back of his head.
***
âYou got off easy,â Mick said after Nikki quietly told him of the punishments Dr. Duren dispensed to them. âYouâd go crazy in solitary. Crazier than now, I mean.â
He was restringing an old guitar that had been in the asylum since time immemorial. It had been here even before Mick, and that was saying something. It was a simple acoustic, and its neck bent farther and farther with each passing year, making it sound like shit. So far Mick managed to amend it by shoving thin cardboard stripes over the nut to raise the strings up, but it couldnât last forever, of course. Soon heâd have to beg for a new guitar.
âI know,â Nikki said, anxiously picking at the skin by the nail of his left thumb. He had already pulled off several layers of skin, and his fingers were smeared in blood. âAnd Vinceâs gonna go crazy too.â
Mick smiled dryly. âIn this case itâs hardly possible. To go crazier, I mean.â
Nikki let out an exasperated sigh. âIt is. You just donât know it. And I do. And we gotta prevent it.â
Mick didnât answer, pretending to be consumed with trying a knot at the end of a string.
âWell?â Nikki pushed on.
âShitty strings,â Mick murmured, pulling the one heâd already installed. âBut what else could I expect from those nurses⊠Probably the cheapest ones they could find.â
âOh come on!â Nikki groaned. âIâm trying to talk to you here! About important things! Stop fussing over that old thing already!â
He spoke too loudly; several patients turned their heads to them.
âYou want all the nurses to hear?â Mick shushed him, loudly playing the three strings heâd already installed. The heads slowly turned away from them.
âNo.â Nikki made a deep breath. Thatâs right, calm the fuck down. âI know you despise the guy. But could you just entertain a thought of helping him for a bit? For me.â
âThey should have put you in the solitary too,â Mick said. âSo you have an opportunity to realise what a piece of shit he is.â
âYouâve just said Iâd go crazy in there.â
âIâm reconsidering.â
Nikki rolled his eyes. âYouâre useless.â
Mick felt a pang of guilt. A very slight pang of guilt, but nevertheless. This asshole somehow crawled into Nikkiâs heart and nestled there comfortably, refusing to go away. Mick didnât know what would it take to exorcise him out of it.
âThe nurses always watch very closely that no one talks to patients in solitary. You have no chance,â Mick said.
âSo talking is out of the picture,â Nikki concluded sadly. âWhat about writing? Could I write a note and pass it to him?â
âYou could. If we had paper. And a pencil. Which we donât have.â
âDr. Duren totally has them in his office,â Nikki said weakly. He seemingly started to see the futility of his endeavor.
âAnd what are you gonna do, steal them? Really?â
âI could tryâŠâ
ââŠand get yourself a punishment and a lot of unnecessary questions.â Mick rubbed his forehead. âListen. Your darling Vince has already been through it before. Heâll survive. Maybe heâll be a little angry with you afterwards for a while. But heâll come back to you anyway â apparently, he canât stay away from your juicy ass for long. You donât need to worry about it.â
âBut itâs my fault,â Nikki protested. âI shouldnât have⊠taught him a lesson. I donât know what Hudson did, but it must have been something bad. I feel guilty for it now.â
âYeah, and let him keep wiping his feet on ya? Does being a doormat get you off or what?â Mick felt anger rise in his chest. Could the boy just stand up for himself and not come back crawling later for once?
âHe ainât wiping his feet on me!â Nikki almost screamed again. Mick sighed and played a short melody on the four installed strings. One of them sounded off; he pulled it a couple times and adjusted the tuner a bit. That was better.
âYeah he does, and you thank him for it. You ainât gotta thank people just for paying attention to you. And if they demand you do, you gotta run away as fast as you can.â
âYou donât understand nothinâ,â Nikki hissed, jumped up from his chair and rushed away, slamming the door in the process.
âSure I donât.â Mick sighed to no one in particular. A nurse would quickly bring him back, so Mick wasnât too worried.
He was battling the knot on the sixth string when McKagan brought Nikki inside. Water was dripping from his face and hair. The nurse probably had to spray him with cold water to cool him down a bit. McKagan led Nikki to a chair in the corner, sat him down on it, said something along the lines of âbehave yourselfâ and retired to the entrance to watch the community evening from there. Nikki remained on his chair, sullen and bristling like a hedgehog.
The boy needed a friend or a lover that could ease his obsession with Wharton. Mick clearly wasnât a good fit: he was old and ill and didnât match Nikkiâs destructive youthful energy. He was sure that was what attracted Nikki in Wharton: the readiness to blow up the world given a slightest opportunity. Sure, Nikki didnât look like the type, often subdued by depression, but it could be clearly seen when he smiled â that toothy too-wide smile that betrayed his true character. He just didnât smile often enough for others to see it.
No one in the asylum beside Wharton matched his energy. Except maybe the new lad. Sure, he was not that clever, and he still had a lot to learn about life, but there was something in him, some driving force that all other patients in the asylum had already lost. They could hit it off.
Tommy was here today, looking unusually jumpy and anxious, but left soon, not giving Mick an opportunity to talk to him. Nikki, on the other hand, was sulking in the corner the whole evening, the tunes only slightly raising his spirits, even though usually he loved them. Mick tried not to pay attention, but his thoughts kept returning to Nikki and Wharton. What could he even do besides stop Nikki from doing obviously stupid things? Nothing, really.
Nikki didnât speak to him after the community evening, and Mick didnât insist. The guy surely needed to unwind and think it all over. For the first time he was thankful Nikki got restrained for the night â at least he wouldnât do something idiotic. And the head was always clearer in the morning.
His ward was filled with moonlight from the window. It lay in stripes on the floor and across walls, creating a weird, persistent feeling of unease â Mick couldnât rely on darkness to hide in anymore. He had long been asking for curtains, since his ward was on the sunny side and the light bothered him a lot, but never got them â a safety hazard, he was told. They were probably just afraid he would somehow hang himself on them, even though heâd never shown suicidal tendencies.
Mick looked out of the window in his usual environment check. No strange lights or shadow figures â but that didnât mean anything. They could hide very well, so well that no one but Mick knew of their existence, and they cleverly manipulated everyone around him to believe he was crazy, so no one would believe him. So Mick had to uncover their plans alone, from behind the bars of his ward or the wall separating the asylum from the rest of the world. Thankfully, these also hid him pretty well. They knew he was somewhere around here, but they couldnât differentiate faces. They didnât know which one of the patients Mick was, and theyâve been unsuccessfully trying to find out for the last twenty years-
Wait, no. Something was not right.
The spider web outside of Mickâs window. It was there just this morning, some poor fly having tangled itself in it. It wasnât there now. Not a trace of it. Like someone swept it off with a broom. But Mick was on the third floor of the building.
Mick ducked under the window like he was being shot at. This couldnât be a coincidence. The web withstood the strongest of winds on his memory. It was done on purpose. It was a threat. Or a warning.
The rest of the night Mick spent sitting on the floor next to the window, anxiously trying to keep himself out of sight.
Word count: 3823
Warnings: violence, blood, guts, all that stuff
A/N: finally i got down to updating this one. work's been sucking me completely dry so i could only get to it on the weekend. anyway, hope you enjoy this!
The chain was about three feet long and easily slid up and down the post, so Vince managed to reach for his blanket and lie down on it: he had nothing to do anyway, so he might as well catch some shut-eye.
He didnât get even that. Just as he began to fall into a slumber, a loud âbangâ went off at the distance, and a shudder went through the entire ship. Vince bolted awake. He had already heard that sound.
Those were the Shoutâs cannons. He last heard them when his ship was attacked. He felt like he got a punch in the gut. The sound sure brought back unpleasant memories.
But why the hell were they shooting? Were they attacked? Or vice versa, attacking?
They had some plan to discuss, and an attack on you is usually not something you plan for. So they were executing a raid. That explained the imprisonment in the galley⊠partly: Vince wouldnât be able to do anything about it anyway, and the pirates knew that. Maybe they didnât want him to get in the way? He tried to not do so at any rate, raid or not. And chaining him up together with locking the door was way too harsh of a preventative measure â after all, they could have just told him. Then what the hell were they afraid of? Surely not Vince himself; maybe something he could do, or his presence could trigger?
The cannons, meanwhile, went silent. A vibration went through the ship, and then Vince heard battle screams and shots from the deck. The Shout gang must have neared its prey and was boarding it.
Well, heâd seen them in action, and he could only hope poor souls fighting them would rest in peace. How many ships like this one were on their conscience? Did it ever leave its mark on their souls? And how many more were still to come?
Vince didnât know how much time had passed before he realized something was wrong. The screams and shots were now getting closer, he could even hear swords clanking. But that meant the battle had moved to the Shoutâs deck. Which was impossible, because that meant the pirates were losing.
Or was it?
Maybe they took off a bite they couldnât chew? A ship so much bigger than Shout that they were losing due to sheer numbers? That was unlikely, but possible. Unlikely because Vince could never imagine Nikki doing that. He always counted his odds, and did it very precisely. But how else could he explain it?
And⊠- his heart skipped a beat â did it mean he would soon be freed?
With bated breath he listened to the battle sounds from the deck. Oh how he wished he could see through the hard wood! His fate was being decided up there, and he couldnât even see anything! Was that why Nikki chained him down here â to keep him from entering the fight, to deprive him of a chance to decide his own fate? That sure sounded like him. Though how could he predict this battle would be a losing one for them? Was that an attack, after all?
Vince could do nothing but wait and think frantically, flinching at every bang and gunshot from the deck. He imagined Nikki descending onto the enemies like a hurricane, his sword just a glint in the sun, blood splattering around, a crazy smile on his face. Tommy by his side, his curls flying as he jumped and swung his sword back and forth. Mick, not wasting more than exactly one bullet to kill an enemy. And yet they were losing? How was that possible?
Yet it was happening, right above his head. A scream pierced the air â and then was cut short as something heavy landed onto the deck. Was that one of the Shoutâs crew? Or the unknown enemy? Though who exactly was an enemy to Vince in that situation?
He was so consumed by listening to the sounds above he almost missed the sounds coming from the corridor.
âDamn! Locked!â a hoarse voice said from behind the door. Vinceâs heart sank into his boots â or rather, not being in possession of them, feet. He rose from the floor and pushed the blanket into the corner. âThere must be something valuable in here then, ya think?â
âWe gotta check it out,â another answered, sounding like its owner was born with a cigarette. There was something off-putting about them. Itâs not what Vince imagined the voices of his saviors would sound like. âBut quick â we gotta be the first to find that pipsqueak.â
âPipsqueakâ? Were they referring to him? But his fatherâs men would never call him that.
Then a heavy blow shook the door, and one more. On the third blow it surrendered and slammed open, hitting the wall.
Two men stood in the doorframe, and Vince could tell at first glance they were not his fatherâs men. Or men of someone honorable. Compared to them Nikkiâs gang could very well pass for gentlemen. One was bald, with an eye patch and tattooed arms â but not Nikkiâs type, with well-defined lines and bright color; this guyâs tattoos were blurry and blueish. The other had matted hair, a red, sweaty face and three fingers on his left hand.
âO-oh, look what weâve got here.â A smile widened on the bald guyâs face. âBlonde, girlish, scar on the cheek⊠exactly like Hetfield said. I think we struck gold, pal.â
Once again this Hetfield. Who the hell was this guy?
âHuh,â the other stretched his lips in a grin, âI kinda get Sixx now. Ya think Papa Het would let us-â
God, not this look again. Vince had enough of them already, and they never meant anything good.
âWho the hell are you?â he said, trying to sound confident. Nevermind that he was chained to the post and these guys each had a gun and a saber.
âYour saviors, baby,â Three Fingers said in such an oily tone Vince didnât doubt anymore â these guys werenât Vinceâs saviors.
âWhat happened on deck?â
âA little skirmish. But donât worry, weâve slaughtered all your captors like pigs, as they deserve.â The Baldie approached, raised his saber and put the tip up to Vinceâs chin. âNow tell me, whereâs the key to this chain?â
âNo idea,â Vince said honestly. Nikki had it, most likely, but for some reason Vince didnât want to leave the galley at all, especially not with those two. Suffocating and depressing before, now the galley seemed a shelter. And these two were intruders.
âAre you sure?â The tip of the saber pricked the skin on his neck. âYou must have seen it when they chained you up.â
âIt snapped on its own,â Vince said. âI havenât seen the key.â
âWeâll find it anyway. If not now, then later, on a body of one of these bastards. And you wonât like it if weâll have to wait.â
Was the Shoutâs crew really all dead? No, the right question was â would they be? The pirate could say whatever he wanted, but Vince didnât really believe him. Despite, he really didnât see the key once, although he was fairly sure Nikki had it on him. He was in no hurry to tell the men that, though.
âWell, thatâs too bad. Iâm afraid I canât help you with that. Youâll have to wait, I guess.â
âYou, mouthy bastard-â The Baldie grabbed Vince by the collar and shook him, but his mate put a hand on his shoulder.
âYouâll get him later. Heâs of no use, and we ainât got much time.â
âI know.â The Baldie pushed Vince back so hard that heâd have fallen were it not for the chain.
A loud scream came from the deck. Both men flinched and looked up anxiously. So not everything was going well up there for them. Someone was still fighting.
âLook for the key. He could have given it to the cook,â The Baldie ordered to Three Fingers, who then made a beeline to Mickâs chest and began rummaging there. He, meanwhile, bent forward to look at the chain ring wrapped around the post.
âDamn. Donât think I can crack this lock.â He yanked the chain, trying its hardness. Vince turned his head away in disgust â the man smelled like he hadnât washed himself in months. The chain didnât budge. If that could work, Vince thought bitterly, he wouldnât be here now.
âYou! Pull the chain!â The Baldie turned to Vince.
âWhy?â he frowned, following with his eyes the pirateâs hand wrapping around the handle of his gun. âOh no, no, that wonât wo-â
âI said pull the chain!â The man pushed Vince back again, and the chain stretched out flat. Then he shot at it.
There was ringing, something whizzed by Vinceâs ear, and splinters from the ceiling sprinkled his hair. He raised his eyes: right above him there was a bullet hole.
âIdiot! You could have killed him!â Three Fingers hurried to them from the corner of the galley and knocked the gun out of The Baldieâs hand. It rattled across the floor, and Vince realized this guy was almost as dumb as his friend: it was pure luck the gun hadnât gone off. Yeah, these men are gonna kill him, whether they want it or not. He had to do something.
âYou have any other ideas?â The Baldie snapped. âYou ainât got the key, right?â
âNo,â Three Fingers murmured. âItâs probably on one of these bastards.â
âYeah, thatâs what I thought.â The Baldie spat on the floor. âWhat are we gonna do, cut his hand off?â
Oh shit.
âHey! Thereâs no need.â Vinceâs voice sounded just a tone higher than heâd like it to be. âYou got sabers, right? You can cut through the post.â
The two men looked at him, surprised, then at each other, then at him again.
âHm,â said Three Fingers. Then he tilted his head and evaluated the thickness of the post. âThis could work.â
âYou donât think itâll take too long?â said The Baldie.
âPerhaps. But we ainât got anything else. Or do ya really want to chop his hand off? Hettieâs not gonna like that.â
âKinda.â The Baldie unsheathed his saber. âBack off, pipsqueak.â
Vince stepped back. Alright, he saved his hand â for now. He was pretty sure the men would soon get tired of scratching wood and come up with something else â something similarly harmful for Vince.
The Baldie began sawing. Three Fingers went on to rummage in Mickâs things.
âWould you look at that,â he said with an alarming smile, reached his hand underneath the bed and pulled out Mickâs guitar. âOld manâs a musician! Who could have thought.â
The guitar trembled in the hands of the man like a terrified woman. Vince realized what was going to happen even before Three Fingers got the idea.
âSure would be a shame if his instrument was⊠crushed.â
And Three Fingers raised the guitar over his head and smashed it against the floor. The strings cried out one last time, the body cracked, the neck broke in half. Vince winced. These poor wretches didnât know what they called upon themselves.
âHey! I want to smash it too!â The Baldie demanded. Vinceâs stomach tensed up. Mickâs really not gonna like this. And Vince let it happen, just like that. He was chained, of course, but that would be no excuse for the angry pirate.
Well, maybe if he could avenge the guitar Mick would forgive him.
He had no plan and hardly any intention. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision. When The Baldie sheathed his saber and turned his back on Vince, intending to join his mate in thrashing the poor instrument, Vince reached forward, grabbed the handle of his saber and pulled it out of the sheath. A jerk from behind made the pirate turn his head â just when Vince plunged the blade into his back.
His cry of pain alarmed Three Fingers. His buddy staggered forward and with a groan fell right to his feet, splattering blood all over his boots. Unfortunately, in his agony he gripped the saber so tight the handle slipped out of Vinceâs hand, and the blade stayed in the manâs body. Now Vince was facing a pissed cutthroat alone, one hand chained to a post, and not a single weapon in sight.
âYou-â Three Fingers gasped, looking at his friend bleeding out at his feet. Then his gaze shifted to Vince, and the mad rage in his eyes made him shudder. âYou killed him, you bastard!â
He pulled out his saber and lunged at Vince. Vince ducked, and the weapon passed mere inches above his head, the wind it raised ruffling his hair. He launched at the man and wrapped both his hands around the saber-wielding arm and hung on it with the weight of his whole body: now to pierce him the man would have to shake him off his arm.
But then The Baldie began backing down, and the chain stretched out to its limit. Vinceâs hand inevitably began slipping off: between metal and flesh metal was definitely winning. He wouldnât be able to hold the rascal with just one hand.
With as much force as he could Vince pulled the man closer and kicked him in the groin. It worked: he dropped his saber and bent down, groaning in pain. But â damn it â his saber rattled across the floor out of Vinceâs reach. Three Fingers, on the other hand, had it at armâs length. Vince couldnât let him recover enough to realise that.
Vince grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled at it. The man was too heavy for just one hand, but a couple inches was enough for Vince. He hooked his leg over the manâs neck and hung on him, pressing him to the ground. Three Fingers yelped and tried to shake it off, but Vince added his arm to the pressure, and the man leaned forward under his weight, allowing Vince to hook the other leg on his neck. Three Fingers couldnât hold his whole weight and fell on his hands and knees.
Vince squeezed his legs around the manâs neck and began strangling him. Three Fingers wheezed, his hands gripped at Vinceâs thighs, trying to unclench them. He was strong; Vinceâs muscles rang with exertion. He wouldnât be able to hold much longer. Just black out already, just black out already-
With a grunt, Three Fingers pushed his hands underneath Vinceâs legs and opened the grip. Vince fell to the floor; pain shot up his back. The man staggered back, gasping for air. A few seconds, and heâd locate his saber and absolutely have the upper hand.
Vinceâs gaze darted frantically around the room, looking for something, anything to arm himself with. Mick took the kitchen knife with him, that Vince remembered. The guitarâs neck broke at a sharp angle, but it was too far away from him. Wait, thereâs The Baldie â he must have weapons on him, right?
Or in him.
Vince grabbed the corpse by the boot and dragged towards himself. The Baldie must have been twice as heavy as him, but he barely noticed it: the desperate desire to survive pulsed through his veins, pumped his muscles up with strength he could never imagine himself to have. His fingertips brushed the handle of the saber; he overcame the last inch through sacrificing skin on his wrist and pulled the saber out the very second Three Fingers came around and bent down to grab his saber. When he straightened up, Vince was ready.
Three Fingers was incapable of cursing at this point. He just growled and lunged forward.
Rage was never a good companion in battle. The only person Vince saw utilize it well was Nikki â but, Vince suspected, at this point it was just his second nature. Three Fingers definitely didnât possess that kind of control.
Stab â dodge. Counterattack â parry. Three Fingers kicked him â Vince jumped back, stretching the chain. His arm went unprotected. Three Fingers seized the moment.
Or rather, tried. Vince spun around the post like a pole dancer, and the saber just scratched his arm. For a second Three Fingersâ stomach was open for a strike. And strike Vince did â blindly, following his instinct.
The blade met something soft, and a groan came from behind Vinceâs back. The instinct proved itself reliable. Vince kept spinning, the saber trembling in his hand as it sliced through flesh. The groan turned to gurgling.
Then resistance stopped. The body fell to the floor with a soft thud. A thin flow of blood streamed towards Vinceâs bare foot. He stepped back to the post, dropped the saber and collapsed onto the floor. Only now his body began to shake.
Soon the blood from both bodies reached him. He didnât get up, letting it soak into his pants. Heâd never manage to wash it out, not on the ship anyway; it would brush against his skin as long as he wore these breeches.
Footsteps behind the door. Vince raised his head and reached for the saber. But it was not another aggressive stranger. It was worse.
It was Mick.
He rushed into the galley, saw Vince and stopped dead in his track. Looked over the bloody scene unfolding in front of him. His face dropped when he saw the shreds of his beloved guitar. And then, torturingly slowly, his gaze moved to Vince.
âIâm sorry,â Vince murmured, avoiding looking into his eyes. âI couldnât stop them. Like, physically.â
âIt didnât stop you from killing them, I see,â Mick said slowly. âSpilling guts all over my kitchen. Iâll never scrape all this blood out of the floors.â
Vince bit his lip. He killed two men one-handed, and thatâs what he got? Berated for getting the galley dirty?
âBut you avenged her,â Mick suddenly added. âThatâs something.â
Another pair of footsteps. Tommyâs lanky figure appeared in the doorframe behind Mick. His face was splattered with blood, but Vince couldnât understand whose it was, and his left arm hung lifelessly.
After a bit of silence Tommy spoke.
âHoly shit. He did that?â
I have a name, Vince thought tiredly.
âApparently,â Mick said. He didnât sound much surprised.
âGive way.â Tommy pushed past Mick, wincing when his hurt arm brushed against his side, and bent down to the body of Three Fingers. He turned it over and examined the guts spilling out of his stomach with an enviable indifference. Then he did the same to The Baldie.
Finally he looked up at Vince.
âNice work, man,â he said. Was that a hint of respect in his voice? âMaybe we should have put you up on deck.â
âMaybe,â Vince jerked his shoulder. It should have felt good, proving to the pirates that he was also worth something. But Vince just felt empty.
Then Tommy got up and headed to the door.
âNikki! Heâs fine! Come look!â he yelled into the hatch.
Shit, Nikki forbade him to use weapons. Vince threw the saber into the corner and listened to it rattle against the floor as Nikkiâs footsteps neared the galley. They were hurried, but heavy and uneven, and when he appeared in the door, Vince saw blood on his thigh.
His gaze sent chills down Vinceâs spine. Nikkiâs pupils were so wide his eyes were almost completely black. He was still vibrating with rage from the battle â and Vince was the perfect target to pour it out on.
As he was slowly, attentively examining the galley, Vince had to force himself to breathe. Heâd never been scared of him more, not even when Nikki defeated him and, as he pressed his boot into Vinceâs neck, Vince was convinced he was going to die.
Finally Nikkiâs gaze landed straight on Vince, making him shrink. Nikki was capable, smart, handsome, young, but Vince would never want to be him. How was his human body even capable of holding that much hatred?
âYou picked up a weapon,â he said. âYou broke my ban.â
âThey would have killed me.â Vince stared at the floor.
âLies,â Nikki said so sharply it could as well slice Vince up in half. âThey sought to free you.â
âNo!â Vince shook his head. âThey were going to⊠take me somewhere. To one Papa Het. No idea who that is.â
âReally? No idea at all?â Nikki narrowed his eyes. Vince looked helplessly at Mick, then Tommy. What does he want from me?
âHey, man, relax.â Vince couldnât say whether Tommy noticed his desperate expression or not but was thankful regardless. âIf he knew what Het had wanted heâd not kill his guys. Which, by the way, is quite a feat. Gotta give him that.â
Nikki kept burning a hole in Vinceâs skin with his eyes, but at least didnât accuse him of anything Vince had no idea about anymore. What did he even mean âsought to save himâ? They were clearly not intending to do him any good. Or did he fatally misunderstand them?
Great. Now he was agonizing over whether he just destroyed his only chance at gaining back his freedom.
Nikki turned away from him, and breathing was now easier. Please just leave, please just leaveâŠ
âUnchain him.â Nikki threw Mick a key, which he aptly caught, and left the galley. Even Mick and Tommy seemed relieved.
âWhat the hell was that?â Vince asked weakly. âI thought he was gonna kill me.â
âDonât mind him.â Tommy waved his hand. âHeâs just pissed. Not at you, you were just a convenient target. Now,â he nodded at his hurt arm and winced, âI would really like to visit sick bay. So long, gentlemen.â He walked out.
Mick silently unlocked Vinceâs chain. It fell to the floor with a clang. Vince stretched his arms with a delighted groan.
âYouâre hurt,â Mick said suddenly, pointing at the gash on Vinceâs arm.
âYeah.â Vince winced. âShould have been more careful.â
âThatâs for sure. Fighting two rascals, armed to the teeth? Every day Iâm just growing more and more convinced youâre completely insane.â
âThey were going to kill me anyway.â Vince shrugged. âWhy not go down in a fight?â
âYou think they were?â Mick raised an eyebrow. âWhyâd you decide so?â
âOne almost shot me in the head trying to break the chain.â Vince pointed at the hole in the ceiling. âThatâs when I realized they were going to do me no good.â
âHm.â Mick examined the hole a little bit too attentively than it deserved. âYou were probably right.â
He threw the key on the counter, walked to the remans of his guitar and began slowly, carefully collecting them into a neat pile on the floor. Vince didnât dare to break the silence anymore, though he had many more questions. It felt sacred, almost like a ritual.
Word count: 1957
Warnings: description of a psychotic episode
A/N: i personally have never had a psychotic episode so this is me going off my imagination and what i've seen and read about them. hopefully it's close to reality!
âIâm very disappointed in you both,â said Dr. Duren with well-measured disapproval in his voice. Anything he ever said was always just the right amount of emotion. Nikki never saw him fly off the hook or lose control. It was almost uncanny â but very useful in constant contact with emotion-ruled psychos. âVery disappointed.â
Nikki glanced at Vince. He was leaning back onto the chair relaxedly, legs spread wide, expression mildly amused. If Nikki knew Vince a little bit less he would think he didnât care what was going to happen to him. But Nikki knew Vince well enough to see the slightest tremble in him - he did care, didnât want to be punished again. Yet he still assaulted Nikki in the canteen, knowing full well the consequences would be rather unpleasant. What did Hudson do to him that pissed him off so much?
âWho started it?â asked Dr. Duren. He addressed mainly Stradlin behind Vinceâs back, but Vince replied instead of him.
âI did.â
âAnd why would you do that?â
âHe looked at me the wrong way,â Vince said and smiled a crooked, bitter smile.
âReally?â Dr. Duren raised his eyebrows. He didnât seem to believe Vince. âYou have never had anything against Frank, but now one wrong look â and you pour soup on him?â
âYou know me,â Vince replied, doing very good job of sounding nonchalant. âIâm a chaotic individual.â
âDid something occur between you two when you were on canteen duty?â Dr. Duren continued, now looking at Nikki. Damn it. Unlike Vince, Nikki was never good at lying, so he just shook his head.
âNothing for Frank. And you, Vincent? Any complaints?â
âHe was too slow at everything. I had to do most of the job myself.â Vince sent Nikki an overly grim look.
âOh, so here it is.â Dr. Duren seemed satisfied. âVincent, but you do see Frankâs hand is injured. Working one-handed is hard.â
âSo what? Iâm also injured, and I ainât working at a speed of a turtle,â Vince complained a little too eagerly for Nikki to believe him. But Dr. Duren fell for it.
âPatience, Vincent. Patience. Thatâs what you lack. Weâll have to work on that.â
âWell, Iâm sitting here listening to you, so clearly Iâm patient enough.â
Dr. Duren gave him such a heavy look even Vince seemed to be slightly humbled by it. Only slightly, but still an achievement.
âYou know I do not tolerate violence in my asylum, Vincent. Yet you chose to enact it. Clearly youâre not yet ready to go back to society. A week of solitary confinement in your ward for you. One of the nursesâŠâ his gaze ran over the three nurses in his office, âBailey, yes. Youâll deliver food for Vincent starting today evening and ending next Thursday. And accompany him to the bathroom. No more than three visits a day. And, yes, cuffs at night.â
Dr. Duren looked at Vince, whose face went so pale it looked almost like a death mask, and smiled.
âThat will teach you patience, Vincent. If you are on your best behavior during that time, you will be released with no further punishment. Take him away.â He waved to Stradlin and Bailey, who took Vince by the forearms and led to the door. Nikki didnât dare look at him, but Vinceâs heavy gaze burrowed a hole in his back until he disappeared behind the door.
âAnd you, FrankâŠâ Dr. Duren rubbed his temples tiredly. âYou could have called the nurses, could have tried to avoid the violence. Yet you indulged in it, by all accounts, with energy and glee. This is unacceptable.â
Nikki nodded solemnly. Dr. Duren didnât seem convinced.
âSince Vincent is now out of commission for a while, youâll be cleaning the canteen on your own for the rest of your punishment. Hopefully cleaning up that soup you spilled will teach you the value of labor of cooking and cleaning staff.â
Well, it could be worse, Nikki thought, nudged up by the nurse. At least it was not solitary confinement, which drove already crazy men absolutely nuts. One smashed his head on the wall on the fourth day of the punishment. The other strangled himself on the sheets, which was why patients in solitary slept on bare mattresses and had their blankets taken during the day.
Nikki feared to even imagine what Vince would look and act like after a week in solitary. He was already pretty antisocial, in a sense that he didnât really fit in a society, even a society of psychos. Vince himself loved society. He loved the attention people could give him; he craved it, he wanted to constantly be in the middle of it. And now no human connection at all besides a couple words with Bailey, who wasnât the talkative type eitherâŠ
And it was Nikkiâs fault. Well, not entirely - Vince started the fight, after all. But that was revenge. To Nikkiâs revenge. So Vince basically punished himself, didnât he? He knew there would be consequences. Of course he knew. Was the soup he poured over Nikkiâs head and a black eye he gave Nikki really worth a week of solitary? Did he think it would be worth it before he got it? Did he regret?
Nikki hoped he did. Because Nikki sure regretted starting it now.
***
Tommy soon realised nobody would hear him here, in the farthest corner of the asylum. The only other door nearby probably led to another padded cell, and it must have been empty. Only Simmons knew Tommy was here. And he would hardly take mercy on him soon.
What did Tommy even do wrong to get thrown in the padded cell, supposedly only for violent patients? He only asked to see the doctor. Which was kind of his job, seeing his patients. Duff even said he would try to carve out some time for Tommy today, so this was a possibility all nurses knew about. Then whyâd Simmons react so harshly? Was there something the doctor didnât know, and Simmons feared Tommy would tell him that? Was the padded cell a punishment for anyone daring to speak up?
Or Simmons could just be an asshole who didnât care about patients whatsoever and only worked here to exercise power over vulnerable people. That was also possible.
Anyway, whatever the truth was, Tommy was in a pickle.
He sat down, leaning on the padded door. Its soft covering was pleasant to lean on, but Tommy would prefer the hardest of chairs. It was dark and quiet in there, and he was never on good terms with darkness and silence. When there were no outside stimuli, his brain usually began to make up his own.
And sure enough, soon Tommy started hearing steps. He first thought they were coming from the hall, but no one came to him yelling, so he decided this was his brain playing jokes on him. But then steps neared, became heavier and angrier, like someone was pacing back and forth just outside of the door of the padded cell. And they resembled Simmonsâs steps so much a shudder ran down Tommyâs spine.
This was not real. He knew this was not real. There was no one outside the cell. It was just his brain playing tricks on him, as it always did.
Still, he crawled to the farthest corner of the padded cell, pressed his back into the wall, hugged his knees and stared at the small barred window, the only source of light in the cell. And every second he expected the light to disappear, cut off by a large, wide body of⊠Simmons? No, probably not even him. Probably something worse.
The only other thing besides the steps that Tommy could hear now was his own breath, and at least it was definitely real. So Tommy focused on it hard. Breathe in. Breathe out. In. Out. Louder, louder. Calm down, his beating heart. In. Out. In. Out. In-
The steps disappeared. Oh god, they disappeared.
Tommy wiped his forehead he didnât even notice get sweaty. It left, thank god. Whatever was there, it left. He sighed in relief and slid down the soft wall onto the floor. His chest heaved up and down. The psychotic episode was over.
And then he heard steps inside the cell.
They were quiet, much quieter than the previous ones. But they were closer. Tommy could almost feel the whiffs of air that legs moving produced touch him. He rubbed his skin there, to drown the feeling in something more intense. But the coolness of the air wasnât overpowered even by intensive rubbing; it was there even in the hotness building up under the skin.
One whiff of air reached Tommyâs nose, and a trace of a scent tickled it. It smelled⊠like the asylum garden. Like rotting leaves, wet earth, upcoming winter chill. Tommy didnât like that smell. Heâd never felt close to nature and had no desire to get close to it now. The scent, at first faint, then quickly grew in strength, overpowering everything else, stuffing Tommyâs nostrils until he had to breathe through his mouth. But even his mouth could feel the taste of the earth, and it was exactly how Tommy imagined it to be, and he had to suppress retching, because it was disgusting.
His brain couldnât create something so vivid and material. It was real. It was his punishment for not obeying the nurses, for refusing to do the work others did. He forgot who he was and where he was, and this was a reminder. Youâre nothing but a speck of dust, and other people have total control over you, and you will have to spend the rest of your life here, and oh, does that make you feel bad? Well, tough luck. Get over it. The sooner you do it, the easier it will be.
The steps grew closer and closer. Tommy pressed his back into the wall even harder, afraid it would touch him. What scared him the most was that he could hear only one breath â his own. And it gave him away. It could hear his breath. It knew where he was. It was just playing with him.
And this went on and on and on. Steps. Tommyâs quiet breath. The smell. The taste. It was unyielding. It was merciless. It was all-consuming. It swallowed Tommy whole.
Until it didnât.
âTommy?â he heard as though from afar. âHey! Wake up!â
Tommy opened his eyes and saw Duffâs face mere inches away from his. Incredibly detailed, with every pore visible, nostrils flaring, expression concerned.
âDo you hear me?â Duff said, and his voice drowned out the steps. Tommy could still hear them in the background, but they as though moved away and now were barely audible. He raised his hand and carefully touched Duffâs face.
There was warm skin under Tommyâs fingers, his fingertips could feel all the little skin defects. Duff was here. Oh thank god.
Tommy gripped Duffâs face with all his might.
âDid it go away?â
âHey, donât get too handsy here!â Duff slapped Tommyâs hands off. âDid what go away?â
Tommy thought it over for a bit. Really, what was that pacing in the cell?
âI donât know. Something.â
âVery informative,â Duff said tiredly. He must have dealt with lots of such claims. âAnyway, Simmons told me you were here. I got you a spot in Dr. Durenâs schedule. I see now that you need it. Come on, heâs waiting for you.â
He helped Tommy up and led him to the door. While they were walking down the hall Tommy could still hear steps far behind them, just on the border of real and imaginary.
Word count: 2488
Warnings: nsfw
A/N: sorry for taking so long, im in the hole again
Vince was almost there when the door of the closet opened. He turned around, thinking Nikki decided to help him â and instead saw Hudson looming in the doorframe.
âWharton, again?!â He grimaced, pointedly staring at the wall. âWas the doctor not clear enough last time about your passion for fleshy pleasures?â
The orgasm, seconds ago so close, now was unbelievably far. Vince groaned in disappointment, sent Hudson a grim gaze.
âCould you come just a few seconds later?â
âAnd let you fall back into your corrupted behavior? Yeah, I donât think so. Pull up your pants. Weâre going to the doctor.â
Vince remembered the punishment he got last time he got caught masturbating and shuddered. The traces on his hands didnât go away for good two weeks afterwards. And he was already pretty battered. Some more, and no one would bear looking at his ravaged flesh.
âCâmon, câmon,â Slash gestured at the door impatiently. His other hand was lying on the doorknob, and light from the corridor lay in a stripe across his face and hair. Yeah, he was pretty handsome.
Vince made a resigned face, tucked his half-hard dick back into his pants, pulled them up and stepped towards the door. And then grabbed Hudsonâs hand on top of the doorknob and forcefully pulled on it. The door closed with a loud bang, and it was dark again.
âWhat the f-â Hudson pulled his hand out of Vinceâs grip and jumped back, almost colliding with a wall. Vince didnât try to stop him. He did keep his hand on the doorknob. â-uck?â
âI have nothing to talk to you about.â Hudson stepped to the door, now standing mere inches away from Vince. And not that he was scared⊠but no one dared to tackle the infamous patient alone. âThe doctor will hear about this. And if you donât let me out right nowâŠâ
âPlease, omit the threats. I have a suggestion.â
Hudson narrowed his eyes. âI donât wanna know what it is.â
âJust listen.â Vince made a small step forward. The smallest of steps. Hudson didnât back off, which was hopeful. âI bet it gets lonely in the nursesâ building.â
He could pull off a better starting line, but he had little time and just one attempt. One wrong word â and itâs over.
âYou donât get to go to town often, I bet,â Vince continued. âAnd I fucking bet Dr. Duren doesnât let you invite ladies over.â
He smiled and put his hand on Hudsonâs chest. Hudson looked at it like it was an exotic bug â disgusting and dangerous, but somewhat captivating - and didnât shake it off.
The fish was on the hook.
âI donât go that way,â he said stiffly.
âOh, please,â Vince rolled his eyes. âEveryone says this until they spend a couple months in an all-male facility.â
âIâve been here way more than a couple months,â Hudson reminded him.
âYeah, and look how high-strung you are. Gotta relieve all that tension once in a while, you know?â
âAnd youâre offering to help.â Hudson concluded dryly.
âExactly.â Vince poked him in the chest. âAnd you wonât tell Dr. Duren what I was doing here.â
Hudsonâs face was grim, but Vince could feel his hastened breath, his tense muscles under the nurse coat. He was almost there. Just one little push.
Vince slowly drew his hand down Hudsonâs torso and stopped it in the area of his abdomen. Then he shot a quick glance at him through his lashes and smiled as charmingly as he could, hoping that the darkness would obscure the missing left molar.
âFuck,â Hudson exhaled, turning his head away- in shame, probably. âYou better be good at it.â
Vince didnât need a clearer invitation. He dropped on his knees, unbuttoned Hudsonâs pants and pulled them down in one swift, experienced move. He heard interesting things about black menâs lengths. Hudson might be mixed, but maybe that heritage persevered?..
Yeah, no, the white side won. But that was even good. Wonât have to choke.
Hudson quietly gasped when Vince swallowed his whole cock at once. It was only half-hard, so it was not difficult. Vince licked the head, tasting salty precum, and smiled.
âYeah, I can tell itâs been a while.â
âShut up,â Hudson exhaled and thrusted his hips forward. Vince didnât protest. They did have little time. His skills werenât really required â it was just speed and depth that counted.
And quick and deep it was. Vince moved his head back and forth so quickly his lips went numb and his neck hurt. Hudson got braver and braver throughout the whole process: first he didnât even dare touch Vince, then put a hand on his head and carefully guided it, and soon finally lost control, grabbed Vince by the hair and began violently thrusting forward, leaving Vince to just close his eyes, suppress his gag reflex (which still existed, no matter what haters said) and finally take care of himself.
Hudson was so occupied he didnât even notice Vince pulled out his own cock and began stroking it. Hudson at the same time was nearing the end, and Vince helped him with his tongue a bit until he finally groaned, bent forward and came. Hot liquid went down Vinceâs throat, but some still leaked in the corners of his mouth. While Hudson stood still, gathering his breath, Vince finished himself, and it was good he was already on his knees because the relief surely would have made them buckle.
Vince tapped on Hudsonâs thigh for attention, showed him his sperm-covered hand and slowly licked it.
âYou are so fucking sick,â Hudson murmured, ashamedly pulling up his pants and tucking his dick in.
âAnd you like it,â Vince grinned. Hudson could act all disgusted and untouchable as he wanted â Vince heard him whimper like a bitch just a couple minutes ago, and they both would never forget it.
âGet up,â Hudson tried to speak harshly, but the tremble of a recent orgasm was still hiding in the undertone of his voice. âWeâve wasted too much time already. Ew, not on the robe!â
Vince continued wiping his sperm off his fingers on the hospital robe even more thoroughly, ignoring numerous rags in various stages of decay kept in the closet. Hudson winced and turned away.
When Vince tried to get up, his legs didnât like the sudden change of position, and he almost fell onto a cabinet full of cracked dishes (why were they even keeping it?) were it not for Hudson who caught him by the sleeve.
âYou want the whole asylum to hear?â he hissed, pulling Vince upright.
âHey, Iâd look at you go after kneeling for so long!â Vince protested. His legs felt like they were pierced by a thousand needles, making him grimace. But Hudson didnât notice â or didnât care â and dragged him out of the closet and into the hall. Then he made Vince hobble in front of him the whole way to the canteen, occasionally prodding him in the back to speed him up.
Right at the door Vince, ignoring a yet another prod, stopped and turned to Hudson.
âYou remember our deal? No one says anything.â
âI do,â Hudson said through his teeth. âGo in already!â
Nikki was there alone, lazily wiping a table. His expression turned from boredom to a poorly concealed gloating, and Vince realised why Hudson came to the closet so untimely.
Oh, Nikki is gonna pay for this.
***
Mick watched Simmons escort Tommy away with a mixed feeling. He knew, of course, that Tommy wasnât gonna see the doctor. He felt sorry for the guy, so young and clueless and naĂŻve, torn out of his environment and thrown into a completely different one where everyone wanted to eat him and crack open his bones. But also Tommy was rather obnoxious with his âIâm too noble for thisâ attitude and unwillingness to work. Simmons sure was gonna show him that once you were here, it didnât matter anymore. Especially considering they had cut Tommy some slack already, his fancy room and all.
While waiting for Nikki Mick crouched behind the bush and began picking up brown leaves off the ground and stringing them on the twigs of the bush, creating a nice little curtain behind which he couldnât be seen. And there were no leaves on the ground anymore at the end, so he was cleaning, wasnât he?
Voices of other patients blended in together at the distance, creating a nice little background hum that was as familiar to Mick as the sun rising every day. He always took the position a little bit away from the crowd, observing from the distance. For a while already there were no signs of anything, which was comforting, even if just for a little bit. Routine and stability were a good thing. Change â not so much.
Then he heard a voice he knew too well, and his chest released the tension it was holding. It was Nikkiâs voice, which meant he finished his canteen shift without issues. Mick peered from behind the bush and saw Michael point in his direction and Nikki head towards his bush with a springy step, waving the shovel in his hand back and forth. He looked⊠energized, which Mick hadnât seen since Wharton dumped him. And it could only mean one thing.
âDonât tell me you got back with him,â Mick said sharply when Nikki crouched next to him. âDonât fucking tell me.â
Nikkiâs face fell a bit.
âHow could you tell?â
âYouâre excited for the first time in weeks.â
âIs that a bad thing?â Nikki tried to make an innocent face. It was not very convincing.
âIt wouldnât be if I didnât know the last time you were that excited was when you were hooking up with Wharton.â
Nikki sighed, looked away. âWhy do you even notice these things? Donât you have other things to do?â
âThatâs what I do. Observe,â Mick said. âSo. Who initiated it?â
âHe did.â
âI fucking knew it.â Mick rubbed his eyes. âYou see? He comes back to you when his balls get a little too full. Once they are empty heâll dump you again.â
âWell,â Nikki suddenly grinned slyly, âI hope I did teach him a lesson that dumping me is a bad idea.â
Mick blinked in confusion, then in horror. âA lesson? God, what did you do?â
âLetâs just say⊠I showed him how it feels to be used.â
No amount of further questioning could get anything except mysterious smiles out of Nikki. Mick had a very bad feeling about this. Whatever revenge Nikki enacted, Wharton would never let it go unpunished.
Wharton, by the way. Where was he?
Mick had to change his position and hide behind another bush (this one, unfortunately, without a leaf curtain) to see Wharton. He was in the middle of the patient crowd, respectfully given space of about ten feet in a circle around him, scooping leaves from the ground one by one with his shovel and slowly, distractedly pile them up in a heap next to himself. Hudson watched him with an understandably sour face.
The sheer fact that Wharton worked at all was already strange. He would usually leave the peasants to it and set to rest somewhere under a tree, harass a good-looking patient, or, as of late, hide in the bushes with Nikki. The nurses knew better than to force him to work. Yet today he obliged. Was that the effect of Nikkiâs revenge?
Oh god, this was gonna be bad. Very bad.
âWhatcha looking at?â Nikki followed him to the bush. âOgling Vince, huh? I mean, heâs not in his best shape but thereâs still a lot to look at-â
âHe doesnât look happy at your reunion,â Mick interrupted him.
âOh, heâs just pissed at learning my lesson. Heâll get over it when, as you said, his balls fill up.â
Mick rolled his eyes. When Nikki was in this mood, it was impossible to make him treat something seriously, just as during his depressive episodes it was impossible to convince him to take things more lightly. His manic depression completely erased his middle ground; he was only capable of extremes.
Eventually they were shooed away from the bush closer to the patient crowd because McKagan couldnât keep an eye on them and other patients at the same time. Wharton didnât try to confront Nikki; he scarcely spared him a look. Before the canteen duty today Mick would rejoice. Now he only grew warier.
And so time passed until lunch, when they were gathered into pairs and ushered to the canteen. Wharton walked in the very back alone, at a sizeable distance from the rest. Mick saw him pull Hudson by the arm and say something to him with a sleazy smile, to which Hudson responded with a shove in the side that didnât seem to discourage Wharton in any way whatsoever. Hudson must have lost a draw among nurses on who would herd Wharton today, now that he was finally out of the padded cell. Mick felt sorry for him. For Hudson, of course.
Tommy didnât show up at lunch, which was slightly concerning â Simmons certainly hadnât arranged a meeting with the doctor for him, but Mick hoped his special status would have helped him get away with it relatively unscathed. But that was not what worried him the most.
And he turned out to be right in his worry. Because just as lunch began, Wharton got up from the table, came up to Nikki and dumped a whole plate of soup over his head. Thankfully, the soup had already gone cold, but Nikki was still unpleasantly surprised. He shook his head, sending carrot and potato pieces flying, and dumped his own plate on Wharton.
Then the two, wet and greasy, began rolling on the floor trying to choke each other. Mick couldnât break up the fight even if he wanted to because of his back, and while nurses were gathering their wits to intervene Nikki caught one in the eye and Wharton lost some of his hair. Then the nurses dragged them away from each other, and the only thing they had left was sending each other angry gazes.
The nurses took them right to Dr. Duren, and everyone continued eating as if nothing had happened. Under Duren, who harshly punished violence of any kind, fights were rarer but not unheard of. But Nikki and Wharton never fought before, even though their relationship was rather turbulent. Did it mean the end of it? Mick sure hoped so. If a cold plate of soup dumped on him couldnât bring Nikki back to his senses and make him cut all ties with the bastard, nothing could.
Mick sighed, shook off a carrot that had landed on his sleeve and got down to his soup.
Word count: 3741
Warnings: slightly nsfw
A/N: the worst of school is over so have a celebratory update
Itâs been three days and Nikki still hadnât gotten back to him.
It was good, of course. Vinceâs knees grew a scab and itched violently, and he could barely hold back from scratching on it, knowing it would nullify all the healing process. The shoulder injury, thankfully, seemed to heal well: the inflammation around it almost went away.
Vince wished Nikki just did it already. He jumped at any steps behind the galley door, whenever he was on deck he avoided looking in Nikkiâs direction, and every time Vince had to hand the captain his plate everything froze in him. Waiting was worse than just going through it: a couple hours were not even close to days of anxiety so strong his hands were constantly trembling, threatening to drop whatever he was holding.
The bout of shame in Mick went away as quickly as it came. He was just as cold and sardonic, and no amount of appeasement could get through to him. The atmosphere in the galley quickly became unbearable: Mick only spoke to bark out orders and scold Vince for smallest mistakes. Whatever Vince did, it was never good enough. He lost the only person on board who treated him with a shred of kindness, and now, despite the hot breezes and scorching sun of the Atlantic ocean, he was constantly shivering. Axl pretended they didnât know each other, Izzy was constantly in sick bay, Slash could only tell him a couple of words during meals, and even Tommy barely spared Vince a look and scarcely any sleazy remarks. Everyone on the ship seemed too busy to pay him any attention, but fragments of conversations Vince caught he couldnât piece together. The only thing he knew was that something was coming.
Then, one day, Tommy came to the galley.
âMick. We need you in the cabin.â
âOh.â Mick rose from his bed, where he was lazily stringing his guitar while Vince slaved over the pile of dishes. âAlready?â
âYeah.â
âWhat â already?â Vince couldnât help but ask. He felt like a conspiracy was unfolding around him.
âNone of your business, doll. You keep on with the dishes.â
Of course. What other answer could he get?
âAfter youâre done with dishes, peel potatoes. At least fifteen. And donât cut off half of it with the skin!â Mick ordered.
âYessir,â Vince sighed.
Alright. They want to keep secrets from him? Well, good luck with that.
He waited a bit after Mick and Tommy were gone, splashing the water in the bucket especially loudly, and then creeped across the galley to the door. He waited by it a bit, putting his ear to the keyhole, but didnât hear anything. Then he carefully pressed on the doorknob.
It stopped halfway down. Locked! They locked him in! Bastards!
Maybe, Vince had to admit when he disappointedly returned to the dishes, they have learned more about his character than he wanted them to. He should be more discreet.
From the galley he could only hear splashing of the waves. Then a vibration went through the ship, and the constant movement that could be felt even inside it ceased. Have they arrived somewhere? Was that why they locked him in â didnât want him to escape?
But Vince behaved well in Port Royal. And hadnât given any reason to doubt his submission since then. That meant they still didnât trust him enough. That he needed to act better, pretend harder. But he was already at his limit. The next stage would be fawning for Nikki, and he couldnât imagine that even in his worst nightmares.
Dismay washed over him. Whatever he did, it was never enough.
He could hear the pirates on deck yelling something, dropping heavy things and running around. His curiosity was burning him from the inside. Potatoes also refused to cooperate, which only added insult to injury.
Then everything went quiet. Not the average quiet. Even the waves seemed to calm down, the ship almost still in the water. Like the world was listening to something Vince couldnât hear. And it was driving him nuts.
It lasted fairly long â Vince peeled all the potatoes, even sliced them out of boredom. He returned to the door in a futile attempt to hear anything. Then his gaze fell on the knife he was holding in his hand. Hm, the tip was pretty thinâŠ
He was so consumed with trying to push the tip of the knife through the lock he only heard voices when they were right behind the door. He staggered back and landed right on his behind, knife in hand.
Thatâs how Mick and Tommy found him.
âOh, someoneâs been trying to get out?â Tommy grinned unpleasantly and turned to Mick. âLooks like weâll have to secure him better the next time.â
âYeah,â Mick said, looking at Vince from under half-closed eyelids. âLooks like I was too hasty to trust him with a knife, too.â
He stretched out a hand, and Vince obediently handed him the knife. He couldnât justify his actions in any way, really, so he didnât even try.
âMake sure he doesnât leave the galley, Mick,â Tommy continued as if Vince wasnât there. âIâll get you some⊠tools for that.â
âI will.â
Tommy left, leaving behind more questions than answers. Bitterness filled Vinceâs chest. What did he do that warranted such a punishment? Last three days heâd been on his best behavior. While Mick didnât seem to soften towards him in a slightest and scolded him for every little mistake, even those were getting less frequent. Vince didnât touch the weapons, didnât talk rude to anyone and did what he was told. What was it then?
âWhat are you punishing me for?â he asked, hurt and anger mixing inside him.
Mick looked at him gloomily.
âExisting,â he said then and turned away, and no further questioning managed to get something else out of him. It was as if Vince was talking to a wall. Eventually he gave up trying, being left alone with his thoughts.
Not allowed on deck. No feeling the sunâs hot rays on his face and warm breezes on his skin. Was it for long? Was it connected to the strange occurrence of today? And what âtoolâ were they talking about?
He had his dinner all alone in the galley that day. On the one hand, he didnât have to avoid Nikkiâs gazes again. On the other, he couldnât even exchange a couple words with anyone. Not that he had a lot of friends on the Shout, but Slash and Duff were rather friendly towards him, Axl too when they were alone, Tommyâs jokes were sometimes funny and even Izzy nodded to him those rare times he left his cave. The only person remaining in the galley was Mick, and he didnât seem too eager to take mercy on Vince. It was like cohabitating in an extremely tiny space with a very angry hedgehog. And even he was absent now, handing out portions on deck. Upon his return, Vince knew, heâd have to wash a damn lot of dishes.
When Mick returned and placed a tall pile of plates on the counter, Vince decided to try again.
âMick,â he said carefully, âplease, tell me whatâs going on.â
âNothing that concerns you.â Mick cut off.
âIf it didnât concern me, you wouldnât lock me up in the galley.â
âAlright, Iâll phrase is differently.â Mick rolled his eyes. âNothing that we consider you fit to learn about.â
âSo it does concern me,â Vince concluded. Judging by the shift in Mickâs expression, he was right. Unfortunately, the shift was from mildly irritated to outright angry.
Mick stretched out his hand and, before Vince realized what he was about to do, grabbed him by the hair and dragged closer. Was he Nikki, Vince would have been prepared to such a sudden violent outburst. But that was Mick.
âThe world doesnât revolve around you, punk,â he hissed in Vinceâs ear. âThere are things that slaves donât need to know. Remember, curiosity killed the cat.â And he pushed Vince away so hard he staggered back and crashed into the wall.
Mick turned around and stormed out of the galley, leaving Vince alone again. He slid down the wall onto the floor.
The hair yank didnât hurt much, but Vince would prefer Nikki beating him up half-dead. Maybe Mick wasnât so different from other pirates after all.
Mick returned very late: Vince had already done all the work and laid down to sleep, wrapping himself in a ragged blanket. When Mick came through the door, Vince pretended he was asleep. Mick lingered in the door - a typical chill that his gaze always caused ran down Vinceâs spine - and sneaked to his bed. After some tossing and turning he went quiet.
No, all that fuss was definitely about Vince. Or about something the pirates really didnât want him to know. Which meant he absolutely had to find out what it was.
Next morning the ship set sail again and swayed on the waves as usual. Mick locked him in the galley again during breakfast, this time taking the knife with him. At this point Vince was so sick of small spaces that the walls seemed to close in on him. But no amount of fiddling with the lock yielded any results. Maybe the locks on the door of the galley were made sturdier on purpose, to keep the pirates away from the alcohol stash?
Mick returned with a load of dishes and orders. He left the galley door unlocked when he was inside, but Vince didnât dare to take even a smallest extra step towards the door. It might seem Mick wasnât watching him, but that was only an illusion.
After what seemed like eternity but was likely just a couple hours Axl walked into the galley.
âHey, Mick,â he said, not sparing Vince a single glance, âthe captain wants a mug of beer.â
âPour him one,â Mick ordered to Vince. Vince hurried to do the task. He tried to catch Axlâs gaze, but the ginger pointedly stared above his head. Warm beer foamed in the mug.
âIâm needed on deck,â Axl said suddenly. âSend the boy over with the beer.â
And he shot Vince a quick glance.
Mick narrowed his eyes. âIf youâre so busy, whyâd he send you then?â
âI was the closest,â Axl said calmly. âBut the windâs changing, I gotta be up there. Donât have time to be a delivery guy, sorry.â
âIâll do it then.â Mick rose from the bed. Axlâs lower lip twitched.
Then he smiled wide. âYouâre even less of a delivery guy than me, Mick. Save yourself the trouble. Weâve got a perfect man for the job right here.â
âThe slave ainât leaving the galley,â Mick cut off, approached and grabbed the mug.
Axl frowned. âWhy? Did he do something?â
âYeah.â Every inch of Mickâs face signaled that he didnât want the conversation to continue, and Axl seemingly decided not to tempt fate anymore.
âAs you wish.â He shrugged and headed to the door after Mick, but in the second when the cook disappeared behind it turned back to Vince. His face was saying: âI tried.â
Well, at least someone noticed his absence, Vince thought bitterly. The lock behind Axl clicked. For Godâs sake, Mick would be absent just for a couple minutes! What harm would Vince be able to cause in that time that demanded locking him in?
By lunch he couldnât take it anymore.
âMick.â Vince lowered a plate on the table with an audible bang to attract his attention. Mick raised his gaze, surprised.
âHuh?â
âIf I donât use the head right now, Iâm gonna take a shit right in your favorite pot.â
Up until now he made do with an empty bottle of rum he found behind the counter, but this time it wouldnât work.
Vince watched Mickâs face go through a series of expression, from confused to annoyed.
âDamn it. I havenât considered that,â he muttered.
âYou should. The clock is ticking.â Vince usually didnât talk to Mick like that, but it was an emergency.
âBut you canât-â Mick paused, thinking. âWhat if I just- no, heâd contaminate the food,â he murmured to himself. Of course, he wouldnât let Vince do it right in his beloved galley. Even if it wasnât in his favorite pot.
âMick. I canât hold it much longer,â he said. It was almost true. He wanted to check something â to see how long Mick would hesitate. What was more important to him â his precious galley or the secret they were trying to keep from Vince?
The galley won, as Vince expected.
âFine.â Mick rose from his bed. âIâm going with you. No lingering. And-â he bent over his chest and pulled out a bandana, âcome here.â
When his hands again touched Vinceâs hair, he flinched. But Mick just gathered stray strands together, tucked his hair behind his back under the fabric of his shirt and tied the bandana over Vinceâs head. âNow thatâs better.â
âWhyâd you-â Vince reached for the bandana, but Mick slapped his hand away.
âNo talking. No looking around. There and back. And if the captain sees us⊠youâll have it bad. Not me. You.â
âAs always,â Vince grumbled, following Mick to the door. Curiosity tormented him almost as bad as his physical desires.
But the deck looked as usual. The pirates were working and quietly chatting, the sails fluttered in the wind, the waves gently parted in front of the Shout. Neither Tommy nor Nikki were on deck, and Mick seemed relieved as much as Vince was. Maybe they were having sex in the captainâs cabin right now, he thought. Well, good luck to them.
âGo, go, go,â Mick hissed, dragging Vince to the head. There he stood in front of him, depriving him of the smallest shred of privacy, for the whole process. Not that it bothered Vince much at this point, but that was something he expected from any pirate but Mick. He seemed⊠more civil than the rest. Well, had seemed.
âQuicker!â Mick barked, looking around anxiously. Vince didnât have to be told twice: he was already doing his best. Mick barely gave him time to pull up his pants, grasped him by the arm and dragged back to the hatch.
Before he pushed Vince in, Vince turned his head to catch the last breath of fresh air and noticed a silhouette on the horizon.
Another ship.
***
Another night passed. Vince tried to play the bowel movements card again in the evening, but this time Mick was adamant. You keep on shitting like a horse, he said, Iâll just stop feeding you. Vince didnât ask anymore.
He had a solitary breakfast in the galley again. Well, it could barely be called that. Mick took the porridge with him, leaving Vince with a stale crust of bread and a thin piece of cheese. But Vince had already learned to appreciate the smallest things. It was better than nothing, after all, and it sated his growling stomach for a while.
He wondered how long he would be kept a prisoner of the galley. At this point he wasnât even scared of being summoned by Nikki anymore. It would be a change of scenery, at least, and he might be able to learn something about the ship on the horizon. Vince was pretty sure it wasnât an illusion or hallucination: as many reasons as he had to distrust his own judgement, he still trusted his eyes.
The lock clicked. Vince raised his eyes, expecting Mick to barge in with a pile of plates, but it wasnât him.
It was Nikki.
Vinceâs throat went dry. He shouldnât have thought about him so carelessly. Fate struck back immediately.
Now that the captain was again in front of him, Vince remembered every detail, every word; they went foggy in his memory over these days, and now he wasnât sure heâd still prefer Nikki to the imprisonment in the galley. Apparently, though, he got both.
And⊠a chain with a cuff and a lock in Nikkiâs hands. Was that for Vince?
âVinnie.â Nikki sent him a toothy smile. âIdling again, you spoiled brat?â
âSir.â Vince bowed his head, avoiding looking at the captain. âMick hasnât left any orders.â
âWhen he comes back, Iâll make sure to fix that,â Nikki promised, coming up to the counter. Vince, who was sitting on his bed, tensed up. Nikki looked much fresher than the last time Vince saw him, but there was a strange sharpness in his movements, very much unlike his usual lazy manner. Like he was vigilant for something.
âYou wonât have to, he does that just fine himself.â
âJudging by your audacity, not enough.â Nikki carefully lay the chain on the counter, straightened it, moved the cuff slightly and tilted his head, enjoying the view. Vince knew this whole performance was for him. Now there was no doubt who the chain was intended for.
What did I do to deserve this, a bitter thought once again crossed his mind. Did he not satisfy Nikki enough? But it was Nikki who hadnât summoned him all these days. Was Vince supposed to take the lead? No way in hell.
Nikki moved so close to him his boots were inches from Vinceâs face. Vince shrank his head into his shoulders, expecting a kick. But Nikki got down on his knees and was now at face level with him. Vince didnât feel much safer, though.
âNice bandana,â he said. Vince had decided not to take it off because it really helped get his hair out of the way when cooking, but now he regretted it. What if Nikki guessed Mick once let him out of the galley? âWhereâd you get it?â
âMick gave it to me. To keep hair out of the eyes.â
Well, it was fifty percent true. Could be worse.
âGood. Iâm tired of pulling blonde hair out of my soup.â Nikki reached out his hand and cupped Vinceâs jaw, almost gently. A chill ran down Vinceâs spine. âWe havenât seen each other in a while. Did you miss me?â
Oh, the question with no right answers. So Vince said nothing.
âWell?â Nikkiâs grip on his chin tightened.
âYou know the answer,â Vince murmured. He expected a violent reaction, but Nikki just smiled.
âI do.â He stood up and signed to Vince to do the same. Vince mustered up his courage. He had to learn what was going on, and nobody knew that better than Nikki.
âSir,â he began, âwhat did I do wrong?â
âYou?â Nikki said thoughtfully. âDo you want it in alphabetical order or by date?â
âWhat did I do wrong to deserve this?â Vince clarified. His stomach cramped from anxiety. âI havenât seen the light of day for three days, and I have no idea why. If thatâs a punishment, then itâs not very effective if I donât know what Iâm being punished for.â
âThatâs the point.â Nikki grinned. âYou should very carefully consider everything you did and make your own conclusions. You ainât got a governess anymore: you gotta think on your own.â
He was evading answers like an eel in a pond evades capture. So Vince decided to try another tactics.
âSir,â he said as piteously as he could, âplease. I just want to not have to piss into a bottle. Please tell me how I can fix my mistakes.â
Nikki grinned again, and Vince didnât like that grin at all.
Then he was bent face down over the counter, right next to the chain, cheek pressing into cool wood, a knee between his thighs. Nikki wrung his arm up behind his back so that any movement caused Vince pain, and he could do nothing else but stay still and listen to Nikkiâs heavy breathing that warmed the skin of his neck. That was the only way it was going to go, he mused unexpectedly calmly. Finally Nikki came to collect the debt.
âThe view is very nice from up here,â Nikki purred. His warm hand slid into Vinceâs pants and squeezed his buttock. Vince inhaled sharply. âYou know what would make it nicer, though?â
Vince felt fingers untying the bandana on his head. Then the fabric wrapped around his throat. Nikki slowly pulled up the ends of it until Vinceâs arm pressed into his chest, then planted a wet kiss under Vinceâs ear.
âYou scream or cry â Iâll shove this rag into your mouth,â Nikki whispered into his ear. âI want you to be quiet and docile and take everything I do to you like a good boy. You do that â youâll go back on deck. Agreed?â
âWhat, right here?â Vince whispered back.
âYeah, why not? Not like youâre cooking anything anyway.â
âBut Mick wonât-â
The door opened. There he stood, his guardian angel: Mick himself. Very, very pissed guardian angel.
âHeâs here!â he threw to someone behind his shoulder. When Mick stepped forward, Vince recognized Tommy.
âWhat the hell, Sixx!â he said indignantly. âWeâve been looking for you everywhere!â
âIâm kinda busy here,â Nikki replied, displeased. âCanât a man get some rest?â
âRight now? Youâre nuts, dude.â Tommy crossed his arms on his chest. âHetfield was looking for you. Wanted to go over the plan one more time.â
âWeâve done it like a hundred times already,â Nikki said through his teeth but released Vince. The bandana fell to the floor, and Vince dropped on his knees and crawled away, back to his bed, grabbing it on his way. Who the hell was Hetfield? And what plan were they talking about?
âYou two are such killjoys,â Nikki grumbled. Then he turned to Vince and, seeing him crouch on his blanket, smiled.
They headed to the door, but then Nikki stopped, as if he remembered something.
âOh yeah. I forgot.â He returned to the counter and picked up the chain, shattering Vinceâs hopes that heâd forget. âYour hand.â
Vince didnât move. It didnât have any effect of Nikki, though. He bent down to him, grabbed him by the left arm and dragged to the wooden post in the middle of the galley. Vince didnât resist. What was the point?
Nikki chained him to it and stepped back, smiling. Vince gave him a sullen look.
He, Mick and Tommy turned around and left, leaving Vince with more questions than answers and rage bubbling inside his chest.
Hi!! I recently found you through a friendâs recommendation, and I absolutely love your work! So I was wondering if you had any recommendations of your fics? Cause theyâre just so good and thereâs a lot of them I just donât know where to start!
aw thank you so much! also you should high five your friend, they have good taste đ€
recommendations... well, i love all my children equally but some of them are better fit to start with than the others
many know my work by my three-year-lasting epic pirate au in darkness shall you be reborn, which i recommend reading on ao3 because i haven't updated the masterlist in quite a while. it's pretty indicative of my style and preferences and even shows my craft progress through the years
then there is we, the psychos, which has been going on since 2019 and which i recently picked up again. apart from ch. 1 & 2 it's all been written over the last month so like, the latest, the freshest of my writing
another pretty recent work is as we were falling, which i only posted to tumblr and not ao3. i wrote it in the middle of a writing block and the quality is not that good but it's a decent wip that i hope to continue
if you want a finished fic, then i have only one suggestion for you, and it's ex malo bonum. written pretty long ago in mania-like state over a month. it's pretty old and many forgot about it which i think is unfair it's pretty good
not sure if you want any of my original works, but just in case you do, here's my recent sci-fi short story Bloodeaters
and of course i can't forget the fic that still gets me the majority of "please update" comments, What Is Lost, What Is Found. it's my first real attempt at english writing, and it will probably show, but people love it
now we're getting deeper in arnold lore. i'm an avid fan of red dead redemption 2, which brought yall this fic: the wild, the wayward and the wicked. still hope to come back to it at some point
im also an even more avid fan of the fallout franchise, which, by analogy, birthed this fic: war?
the rest of my writing are mostly oneshots and sketches, and you can find most of them on my masterlist. it hasn't been updated in a while but i seem to have covered the major changes
Word count: 2241
Warnings: none
A/N: you would not fucking believe this
The entire day Mick remained cold and unfriendly, only addressing Vince to bark out orders, and by evening Vince began to consider apologizing just not to feel so overwhelmingly lonely. But he wasnât desperate enough yet. Maybe in a couple hours.
They had the usual for dinner, with an exception of a bit stale but still soft bread. Vince almost shed a tear when his teeth didnât meet the usual resistance of a crunchy shipâs biscuit. Truly one never knew what simple joys of life were until he was deprived of them.
âYou already munchinâ? And whoâs gonna bring the captain his dinner, huh?â Mick snatched the piece of bread out of Vinceâs mouth. âDamn slacker. Do your goddamn job first.â He shoved a tray into Vinceâs hands and watched him reluctantly fill it with food, ruthlessly ignoring his pleading looks. Vince didnât know Mick could be so cruel - but he was a pirate, after all. Cruelty in this job was a given, and Mick just hadnât revealed his immediately.
Resigned to his fate, Vince shuffled across the deck to the captainâs cabin. His hands were full, so he had to kick the door instead of knocking on it. A couple minutes passed, but nobody opened. Was he even there? Vince didnât see him on the deck, but the ship was big. Maybe he was busy with some captain stuff somewhere down in the hold. Vince really hoped he was. He wasnât ready to face the captain today one more time.
Vince kicked the door again one last time and already turned around to leave when it opened in front of him, making him almost drop the tray.
Nikki was standing in the doorframe stark naked. Not only that, he also had a raging hard-on.
âAh, itâs you,â he said in the most casual tone. âQuite in time. Come in, come in.â
âIâm just gonna leave this here.â Vince dropped the tray in front of the door and tried to flee, but then his forearm got caught in an iron grasp, eliminating any hope of an escape.
âYou ainât going anywhere, punk. Pick that up and bring it in.â Nikki nodded at the tray. There was so much steel in his voice Vince just silently obeyed. Nikki didnât lean forward when Vince awkwardly tried to reach for the tray; even when he almost flipped it over trying to hold it with one hand, the captain still didnât weaken the grasp. Only once Vince was inside the cabin and the door lock clicked behind his back did Nikki release him.
âHi, princess,â said someone from behind his back, making Vince almost drop the tray again. He turned around and saw Tommy sitting cross-legged on the bed, also fully naked. Thankfully, his pose prevented Vince from seeing the supposedly private parts of his body (the pirates clearly didnât have the same distinctions, though). The sheets were crumpled in a specific, easily recognizable way, wet spots scattered across the fabric. Was it stupid to hope Nikki had spare ones?
âAm I interrupting you?â Vince said weakly, his eyes dashing between the two pirates. He began to slowly make his way to the table. Someoneâs breeches sprawled on the floor wrapped around his ankle, and he spent too much time trying to shake them off, all the while being watched by two naked pirates, scarred and tattooed all over. Tommy, as it turned out, even had a ring in his nipple. It must have hurt to get it done, Vince thought briefly, putting the tray on the table.
âNo, not at all,â Nikkiâs voice, deep, breathy and unbearably close, said in his ear, and then his body pressed against Vinceâs back, boxing him in by the table. âIâd even say, youâre a great addition.â His hand slid up Vinceâs side and onto his waist, hot even through the fabric of his shirt. Vince tried to concentrate on this hotness instead of the hotness pressing into his hip, but it didnât really work.
Damn it. He shouldnât have come here. Whatever enraged Mick could do to him for shirking his responsibilities, it couldnât be worse than this.
âHe is?â Tommy suddenly said. He sounded like he tried very hard to appeal nonchalant. âWe were kinda in a process of something here, Nik.â
Vince blinked in confusion. Since when did Tommy not want him âin the processâ, after all the dirty jokes and pinches and groping?
âYeah, and? You think weâd have to tie him up again or something? Donât worry, heâs made progress since the first time. Right?â He hooked a finger under Vinceâs collar on the small of his neck and pulled on it, cutting short a shaky breath Vince was drawing.
âYou misunderstood me. Hey, Vinnie, there are two of us here. Go get a second tray, and me and Nikki meanwhile will have a little talk.â
âOh. A talk, then,â Nikki said unexpectedly coldly. âVery well.â He stepped back, releasing Vince. âGo get the tray, as my dearest first mate told you. And-â he gripped Vinceâs jaw, digging his fingernails into the skin of his cheeks, â-just you try not coming back. Just you try.â
Vince was out of the cabin in a blink of an eye. Tarrying would probably make Nikki angry, but he still spent some time leaning against the door eavesdropping. Something very interesting just happened there, and Vince was dying of curiosity.
However, the door was too thick, and he could only hear unintelligible humming coming from the other side. It did sound pretty tense, though. Were they arguing?
Thankfully, Mick was still on deck, handing out portions to the remaining pirates. Vince eyed him for a while, considering his odds. What would be worse â whatever Nikki wanted to do to him when he returned, or his anger if Vince involved Mick in all this? Provided, of course, that Mick would relent and agree to be involved first.
Vinceâs eyes met Mickâs, and his heart dropped: the gaze of the old pirate immediately turned cold and surly.
âWhat are you waiting for? Weâre not done yet!â His harsh tone made Vince flinch. âYou keep rambling around doing jackshit, you wonât earn any dinner!â
Vince walked towards him slowly, trying to formulate a request that wouldnât make him sound utterly pathetic. âMick, Nikki and Tommy are having sex and want me to join, can you come with me and stop themâ? It would be less shameful to just let Nikki and Tommy actually fuck him. Maybe he should turn back- but Mick was already looking at him inquiringly, with his eyebrow raised, and what would be worse, trying or running away?
âTommy sent me to get another portion,â Vince finally said, pushing the tray forward. âHeâs there with Nikki. They- they-â he closed his eyes, stopped to take a breath but before he could say anything else a crooked grin widened on Mickâs face.
âOh, I know that look,â he said. âWhat, the captain wants to shag you again? Now with the first mate, too? And what do you want me to do? Take your place? âM afraid itâs not gonna work. Iâm not exactly his type. And even if I was⊠itâs your duty, not mine. Canât help you here, sorry. The portion for Tommy, though, thatâs my field of expertise. Gimme.â He pulled the tray out of Vinceâs numb hands and swiftly filled it with food. âYou better hurry now. You donât want them to get mad, right?â
Vince didnât listen to his advice. He stood there for a good minute, staring dumbly at Mickâs back. His brain felt like thick dough: slow, heavy, sticky.
Mick was right, of course. He couldnât exactly replace Vince there.
Vince turned around and on unbending legs tottered across the deck, back to the captainâs cabin. This time the door opened after just one kick.
Nikkiâs lips stretched into a pleased smirk. âTold you heâd come back,â he said into the room. âAs I said, weâve made progress.â
Vince threw the tray onto the table next to the other one. The mug of beer swayed dangerously, but didnât flip over. Tommy and Nikki watched him again, but it was different now. That time they were cats and Vince was a mouse; this time, they were onlookers at a fair and Vince was a monkey in a cage. The atmosphere changed. To the better or worse, Vince couldnât say, just that it was different.
âDo you still need me here?â he asked directly. Whatever was going to happen, he wanted it over as soon as possible.
âNo. Not today,â Tommy replied. Relief washed over Vince. âSome other time. It will definitely happen, though, so donât get high hopes, princess.â
âIâm not,â Vince said. He knew that the respite was short, that he wouldnât be able to avoid it forever, that Nikki could call him in the very next day, but it was still a relief, a promise of another relatively painless night, a few more hours to heal his wounds. God, the joys of life truly were simple. âIâll be on my way then.â He headed to the door, trying to balance the speed around that of a lively stroll instead of a hounded animal.
âYou sure you donât want him here?â Nikki suddenly asked Tommy when Vince was halfway there. Vince froze to his place, partly out of fear, partly because theyâd drag him back anyway if they wished, and he preferred his humiliation to stay behind closed doors. âI can gag him, you wonât even notice heâs here.â
âI am.â Tommy cast him a grim look. âIf I wanted a threesome, Iâd say so from the start.â
âFine, fine.â Nikki raised his hands in surrender. âUnfortunately, Mr. Lee here put you out of work tonight,â he said to Vince, âbut donât get too comfortable there, princess. Now leave us alone with our⊠business.â
âWith pleasure.â Vinceâs last shreds of dignity went into this reply, after which nothing was stopping him from leaping to the door like a scared out of its mind hare. The grins of the two wolves watching him were imprinted on his brain for the rest of the day.
Vince returned to the deck with a springy step (he tried skipping, but his knees protested loudly). He expected all the portions to have been handed out already â between his running back and forth half the dinnertime had already passed â but when he gingerly approached Mick, a plate with cold beef, a piece of cheese and a slice of bread was shoved into his hands.
âThat was quick. So do our illustrious captain and his first mate have the stamina of schoolboys?â Mick laughed sharply â the high-strung kind of sharp.
âThey didnât want me this time,â Vince said, the last part of his sentence unintelligible due to the beef in his mouth. âTo make me happy about not getting invited to a threesome, though â thatâs a real feat. Never thought itâd happen, but life sure is unpredictable.â
âAre you talking like that with Nikkiâs, hm, beef in your mouth too? Then no wonder they sent you off. Shut up and chew properly,â Mick cut him off. Vince would have resented him for it if he didnât sense the guilty undertone in his commanding voice. âI damn like not having to do the dishes every day,â he then added, and Vince did resent him after that.
He and Mick were gathering the plates to take them to the galley when Vince noticed Slash approach. He was avoiding him all day, which was rather hard as Slash seemed to appear everywhere Vince went. Usually Vince just resolved the problem by getting out of that place as fast as possible, but that time he was holding a pot filled with plates and had an already irritated cook behind his back, so there was no way out.
Slash came up and carefully lowered his plate into the pot.
âThanks for dinner, Mick,â he said loudly to him. Mick murmured something in response. âThanks for showing me the moves, Vince,â he said to Vince quietly. âYou alright?â
âNever been better,â Vince wanted to wave his hand, but timely remembered it was occupied, so he had to do with an enthusiastic nod.
âYeah? The captain looked mighty pissed when he dragged you away. And I still donât understand why. He puts up all these trainings so all the crewmates can protect themselves better,â Slash said, and Vince could hear the genuine bewilderment in his voice. Did they really not realize Nikki definitely didnât consider him a crewmate?
âWell, thatâs because heâs the one I need to protect myself against, I guess.â Vince shrugged, resorting to things that the whole crew was well-aware of. Mick coughed behind his back. âBut I didnât say that, of course,â he added hastily.
âSlash, youâre holding up the line,â Mick said loudly. âYou want to get all chitty-chatty with my scullery boy, youâll have to go down to the galley. He could always use a hand with the dishes, yâknow.â
âOh, come on,â Slash rolled his eyes, then gave Vince a small nod and scooted away. âThe lineâ consisted of just two pirates, so soon they were back at the galley, and the Babel tower of dishes was staring Vince in the eyes once again. And also sneering at him and jeering, but that was probably the beer talking.