Author's Note: This story was written for a friend named Konstance...and no, I have no idea how they would become friend's after this...Maybe Stolkhome Syndrome?

Pintel was woken up by the lad's leg brushing up against his crotch.

When it happened again he opened his eyes and found that Ragetti was having a nightmare. His face looked troubled as he groaned in his throat, his long limbs jerking as if on their own accord.

His hand rested against Pintel's chest and the older man found that he was growing hard.

Et's been ta bloody long since I've dipped me wick! He thought, looking him over.

It had been four months since last the Naval ship they were on docked somewhere. It was then that he first met Mackenzie Ragetti; an eighteen year old freshly "volunteered" into the Navy. He was a scrawny whelp, his eyes a deep shade of blue that had probably made the sea itself green with envy. His hands were more like a woman's; with fingers that were long and slender. His face still didn't have any hair on it either and his golden colored hair curled at the ends; marking him right away for the predators on the ship.

Pintel took him under his wing, not wishing to see any harm come to the boy oddly enough. The two became friends easily and even shared the same hammock so that Ragetti would not have to worry about uninvited guests coming to him in the middle of the night.

But now Pintel was painfully hard and Ragetti's random touches and feminine looks were not helping him.

Feck et! He thought and without warning, he shoved Ragetti out of the hammock and to the ground.

Ragetti hit the ground with a yelp, wincing as Pintel suddenly grabbed him by his upper arm tightly and began dragging him back up the steps onto the deck of the ship.

"Pint? Wot ar' yer doin'?" he mumbled, wiping at his eyes with one hand, too tired and dazed to notice the lustful look in Pintel's eyes as he turned him around to face him.


"Take yer clothes off, Rags." Pintel growled, working on the buttons for his own shirt. "Ye've been askin' fer this fer a long toime naow!"

That wiped out the tiredness right away and Ragetti blinked in confusion.


"Take 'em off!" Pintel demanded.

Whimpering, Ragetti hugged himself tightly as he shook his head.


Angrily, Pintel grabbed him by his upper arms and pulled him in close.

"Listen 'ere, lad! I've been keepin' yer safe fer months naow an' ye aint givin' me anyfing in return! Naow git yer clothes off afore I make yer take 'em off!"

Trembling, Ragetti began to put up a struggle as he shook his head.

"Don' touch me!" he cried out, landing a punch in his face.

The blow caught Pintel off guard and with a shout he let go of him, stunned that his lower lip was bleeding from such a weak punch.

Whimpering and choking back a sob, Ragetti turned around and started to run to the captain's quarters.


"No, ye don'!"

Pintel wrapped his arms around his middle tightly, dragging the lanky man to the ground.

Ragetti's chin hit the ground hard and he was dazed as Pintel panted softly, straddling him as he began tearing at his shirt.

"Le' me go!" Ragetti shouted, forcing himself to turn over and try once more to get Pintel's hands off of him.

But Pintel was older and larger and with a sharp slap, he cut his upper and lower lip and stunned him long enough to flip him over once more.

"Jus' don' move an' et won' 'urt yer!"

Sobbing, Ragetti reached out a feeble hand to try and drag himself away.

"Stop tryin' ta git away!" Pintel snarled, smacking him sharply upside the head.

"Ye were me frien'…" he said as his shirt was torn off of him, Pintel's rough hands pinching his nipples wickedly.

Leaning forward, Pintel's lips touched Ragetti's ear teasingly as one hand slowly slid down to remove his pants.

"Jus' relax, Rags." He whispered softly, his other hand rolling his nipple between two fingers. "If yer relax then et won' 'urt!"

Resting his forehead against the wood of the deck floor, Ragetti closed his eyes tightly and wept as Pintel took him.