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Zephyr	By : melanthios Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Slash - Male/Male Views: 2589 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Zephyr
- 1
Chapter
I
Tribute
It was all very well and good to say in the heat
of the moment that fortunes were better from the sweat of a man�s brow and the
strength of his back, but when one went too long without a ship to plunder or a
deserted shore to set foot on, one recanted nobility in favour of something
more material. And when one found unnatural favours granted one, one was not in
the habit of revealing them to others. However much the other pirates spoke of
the being that favoured Capitaine Chevalle, he was
loathe to reveal who and what it was, selfishly guarding his fortunes and the
good winds that followed him. Ah, but time gave him away eventually. With his
movements watched, it was soon clear what sort of being favoured him: not the
sea, but the air. When others were dead in the water, Chevalle�s fleet always
had a wind to carry them to safety, back to their secret coves and rocky
islands of the Mediterranean to hide and reload for another day.
Now the ships of Chevalle
were anchored in the harbour of a tiny island south of Greece, restocking the
water from a clear spring. The crew scraped the hulls of the ships free of
barnacles as their captain made ready his sacrifice to the wind spirit. When he
stepped onto the smooth pebbles of the beach, the crew slowed in their work to
watch him pass, removing their hats or saluting him solemnly as he passed. He
certainly made a grand sight as he cut through them with head held high, his
appearance impeccable, as it always was when they set foot ashore. First mate Tailler was granted a beckoning hand, and obeyed the
summons with a sharp salute.
�Oui, mon capitaine?�
�No one is to follow me, unless they long for
death,� his voice was pleasant, though with the undercurrent of poison that the
French gentry were known for. �I will be back by nightfall. You are in command
until then, as always.�
�As my captain wishes,� Tailler
answered, watching as his captain continued further into the island, past the
tree line. He is so brave, he thought
with admiration, noting how the pirate lord showed no trace of fear or despair
as he walked to pay no doubt painful and bloody tribute to the spirit.
.oOo.
Passing the landmarks to the hidden glade, Chevalle soon felt a breeze tugging at him, whispering teases
that made the day seem even hotter. Coming upon the flat rock that stood well
away from the water, he removed his hat and made to set it down, but the breeze
strengthened and whipped it from his hand with a breathy giggle, settling it on
a figure that materialised from the air, putting the hat atop silver-blond hair
that fell in loose curls, summer-sky eyes dancing with laughter.
�Salut, mon capitaine,� he said, lightly
hopping down to the flat rock and beginning to pull off Chevalle�s
coat. He put it on as well, the size of it making him seem even slighter and
more ethereal.
�You look better without clothes, cher aliz�,� Chevalle
murmured, pushing his coat off the slim shoulders to bare the skin that
shimmered in the sunlight. The boy smiled up at him, removing the hat and
setting it on the boulder as well before unbuttoning the long waistcoat with
his slender, skilled fingers. Almost before he had time to breathe twice, Chevalle was standing shirtless before the wind god.
�And this�� the boy tossed the wig away, revealing
Chevalle�s short, dark hair before hopping up on the
rock with a mischievous smile. �I�ll be waiting behind the waterfall.� And he
turned into the wind again, swirling around the half-naked pirate before
shooting through the curtain of water with a barely-audible giggle.
Feeling his pulse pound between his legs, Chevalle quickly stripped and entered the pool. The boy was
so infuriating, teasing him to distraction and then�. The cool water was a
help, especially under this hot sun, and he swam under the shade of an olive
tree to protect his skin. The thought of his previous encounters, previous
�sacrifices� when the wind had been favourable, made the cool water moot and
his cock hardened despite the temperature, warming from memories of the
thorough romps he�d given and received. Knowing the spirit�s obsession with
watching him bathe, he found the fine linen cloth that hung on a low branch and
dipped it in the water, wiping the talc and carmine from his face with some
displeasure. Couldn�t the boy once have him done up in his lace and paint? It
seemed not, and Chevalle didn�t fancy risking the
wrath of the heathen god to ask.
Still, it was the least pleasant part of this
ritual of sorts; a little swim was a small price to pay for such favour and
such�pleasure. Carefully, mindful of the increasing depth of the pool and the
pull of the waterfall, Chevalle swam to a rock behind
the falls that hid a cave. Once inside, his eyes took a few moments to adjust
to the low light of the candles. As he waited for them to, he spoke into the
cavern, knowing the boy was there.
�Grand merci, monseigneur, for the�� he was cut off with a gasp as a hot
little mouth went around his length and slender arms wrapped around his hips
tightly. Staggering, he found the caresses gone in an instant and a soft laugh
greeted his shaky descent to the mossy floor of the cave.
�I keep telling you not to make flowery speeches,�
the boy said, climbing over him with a smirk. �It kills the mood,� he said,
eyes glinting like jewels in the low, shifting light. His lips brushed one of Chevalle�s ears and the unnaturally smooth tongue flicked
out, making the man shiver. His teeth caught the earring and tugged, the smirk
turning wicked at the blasphemies this elicited from the sculpted lips.
�Dieu, your tongue, Aliz��
The god purred, �Ooh I love when you call me
that,� he said voluptuously, before turning his tongue to the fashionably pale
throat and tracing over Chevalle�s pulse, his hips
moving slowly against the pirate�s, maddening. Chevalle
knew it was part of the god�s delight, making him beg, but part of the fun, he
had learned, was the game itself. If he gave in immediately, that displeased;
if he tried to wrest control, that only caused the god to run away and turn
favour to Villenueva in revenge. It was the game of
sex this god of the winds loved most, and Chevalle
took a secret smugness in the fact that none of the other pirate lords would be
willing to pay the demanded price.
The caress was too much, and a moan finally
escaped Chevalle.
�Aliz�! Dieu, you torture me!�
There would be a mark when he got back, from the
suckling bite on his neck, and the scratches�he arched, biting back a cry as
the sharp pain only caused his cock to twitch, the fingernails of the nameless
god dragging red lines down his chest, his belly, his thighs�. A soft laugh.
�I like to torture you like this, mon capitaine. I know you like it
too�� And his soft, impossibly hot little mouth flicked out its tongue and
teased one nipple. Chevalle�s breath caught and he
dug his fingers into the moss below him.
�Call me that name again�� the tongue moved to his
other nipple, tugging at the gold ring that pierced it. �Say all those wicked
things you think will upset me, all those�� he giggled, �Blasphemies�.�
Chevalle knew that such a request could only be followed
by renewed effort to drive him mad, and he felt the tension in his body as he
waited for the pounce. It drew out, forever until a fingertip ghosted over his
weeping cock, swirling the precome over the tip as a
slender hand wrapped gently around and slid down, pulling back the foreskin as
he leaned over, the other hand on one of Chevalle�s
thighs. The pirate captain smirked up at him, knowing the real battle of wills
had begun. The god adored speech, as Chevalle had
learned in their first encounter, and forever sought the dark flowers of
language that had been a constant caress from Chevalle
when first they encountered each other on this island.
Now, however, the pirate knew the god�s weakness;
perhaps it had been part of the game from the first.
�Come here, mon cher petit aliz�,� he murmured,
surprised at his composure with the god now writhing over him, long, slender
cock sliding against Chevalle�s own. �Let us switch
positions, hm?� he chuckled, reaching up to caress the youthful face. �I know
you like me inside you��
He saw a flicker there in the glittering eyes, the
shiver running through the god�s body quite telling. Would he give? Sometimes Chevalle was invited to dominate, to possess�those times
were increasing, if he wasn�t mistaken. There was a rush of power he felt at
that, the boy writhing beneath him with that breathy voice, tongue shimmering
silver in the low light�yes! The boy fell gracefully off of the pirate lord,
kneeling at his side and drizzling warm oil from a bottle that hadn�t been in
his hand a moment ago. The slender hand spread it over Chevalle�s
cock, the god�s eyes dark with desire now when he looked at Chevalle,
like sapphires as the light coming through the waterfall now only danced over
the white-gold of his curls, glinting on his silver tongue as he spoke.
�What do you want, Capitaine
Chevalle?�
Now the game of wills was over�Chevalle
had won with the incitement of a memory. The god was soon pressed to the floor
on his belly, the pirate spreading the smooth cheeks of his ass, dripping the
oil over the flushed entrance.
�I want to torture you, Aliz�,
as you torture me�� he purred, running his own perfectly-groomed fingernails down
the back of the god�s thighs before holding him open, leaning down to swirl the
tip of his tongue around once, the warmth of the god�s skin making the scent of
the oil stronger, roses the perfect accent to such sinful delights. The god
cried out in a moan, clawing the moss.
�Corentin!�
Chevalle savoured the cry, repeating the caress and
smirking at the broken sigh. The scream that echoed around the cavern when he
pushed his tongue inside was heavenly, and he held the boy�s hips in a spidery
grip as he thrust in and out leisurely, waiting for the begging to begin. It
was easy to forget this was a god beneath him, one who could crush him so
easily; one expected gods to dominate and bend mortals to their will.
The god writhed and moaned in earnest, but after a
few thrusts of Chevalle�s tongue he was crying the
pirate�s name.
�Corentin! Corentin! Piti� de moi, si�l te
pla�t!� When the cries only made it clear that mercy
was farthest from his mind, the god cried louder, voice shrill. �Corentin!�
Chevalle paused with a dark chuckle, pulling back and
running a finger ever so lightly over the entrance, pulling back as the god
pushed his hips toward the caress. �Mon cher aliz�� he purred as he teased the slender hips upward,
upward, until the god was on his knees, head resting on his folded arms, cock
flushed and dripping with arousal. Chevalle pushed
slowly into the boy, leaning over him�it was temptation itself to simply start
off hard and fast, but Chevalle remembered the long
weeks of close escapes from Villenueva that had
rewarded him the last time he forgot this was a god he was fucking.
�Beau aliz�, you are
always tight as a virgin�� he murmured, stilling for a moment as he felt the
tight ring of muscles pulse around his cock, adjusting as the hips fidgeted
ever so slightly, the smooth back rippling with lean muscle under the
shimmering skin.
�Please�mon Corentin��
It was what he�d been waiting for, and he pulled
out before sliding in again; he would make this last, he knew the god had found
out about how he loved mastering his partners, owning them, humiliating them
and oh Dieu, how lovely this one would look with
silver rings piercing his nipples and his cock, silver chain connecting the
three and why was the boy moaning so? Had he spoken� the thoughts aloud?
�No�no�don�t stop�.� The god moaned beneath him as
Chevalle slowed in fear. �Baisez-moi,
si�l vous pla�t! Corentin!�
Emboldened by the change in formality, Chevalle dispensed with any pretense
of gentility and fucked the boy hard, relishing the moans of his name and
slowing when he felt the god begin to reach the edge. After the third time, the
cries of �Ma�tre!� caught him off-guard and he shuddered
in desire, gripping the boy�s hips so hard there would surely be marks as he
changed angles, each stroke making the boy scream and tense harder around him
until�
�Ma�tre Corentin!�
The boy gave a final scream that echoed off the
water-slick stones and hurled Chevalle headlong into
le petit mort.

.o.O.o.

Translations:
Aliz� � Tradewind;
this is what Chevalle names the god, since a name was
never given to him.
Piti�
de moi, si�l te pla�t! � Mercy, please! (informal form of �you�;
�si�l vous pla�t� is the formal)
Baisez-moi
� Fuck me (I�m 95%
sure this is correct�)
Ma�tre
� Master

Corentin � I gave Chevalle
this as a first name because it means �hurricane� in Breton and just seemed
highly fitting.
- 1
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Zephyr