A/N: I wrote this back in…March/April. Due to personal issues, I have not looked at it since. I am absolutely distracted by my Hobbit fic "Far From Home" so I am not sure when the next update shall be. Anyway, I think it's time to give you patient readers some more Lovino abuse.
Warnings: This is not a very nice story. Violence, brutality, nonconsensual sexual situations and character deaths. Lots of it. There are religious tones, especially in the first chapters. Read at your discretion.
Chapter Warning: Graphic violence, abuse, NCS.
Il Diavolo Sorriso
Broken Things Can Still Be Shattered
The four days that followed were tense yet thankfully uneventful. Under Berwald Lovino continued to go about his duties mostly unmolested by the crew. The Boatswain left him more to himself to choose what meals to feed the hungry men on the Emma. Though the men did not care for him, and he despised every missing tooth and grimy nail, there was a subtle respect growing as he became the face that served them their meals through the progressing days.
He learned where all the produce and animals were stored, and when Berwald discovered that he could read and write, Lovino was tasked to keep a meticulous inventory. He also gained the Boatswain's attention when the man was choosing nails to use to repair a crack in the hull, and Lovino offhandedly suggested the suitable width and length of use. When asked about his background, he was forced to admit of his past as an apprentice to a smith.
"You never spoke of it," Berwald had said, his gaze more severe that normal and with a slight accusation in his normally monotone voice.
"You never asked," Lovino had snapped.
Yes, he might have the skills and knowledge of metals, but actual building with wood was for a carpenter. Lovino had enough to deal with simply cooking three meals a day for over a hundred men. Building and fixing was a lot more manual than cooking, and physically Lovino had no stamina for it. Not back when he was dragged behind his grandfather, and not now forced into slavery on a pirate ship. The less responsibilities, the less of a feature he was on the ship, the better. Less attention. Less work. More chance of survival in his opinion. He did not want to aid them, nor be a part of their heinous activities than he currently was.
"It's such a waste of skills," Tino had argued on the evening of the third day while Lovino was cleaning and Berwald was absent medicating a crewmember. The Master Gunner seemed to have forgotten Lovino's harsh words to him, and continually paid him brief visits to the kitchen while he worked. Lovino kept his cool around the fair haired pirate, staying civil yet hoping the other man would feel unwanted and leave him to himself. But Tino would not be thwarted, and stayed and prattled, and every night bedded down beside Berwald, not paying any mind to Lovino who could not help but glare at their audacity.
But he kept silent. Turning away when they touched and kissed, and covering his ears when touches became thrusts and groans.
After such nights he could not look either of them in the face without mortifying heat coloring his cheeks. There was no doubt that both parties had enjoyed lying together, and Lovino could not understand how Tino willingly consented to Berwald mounting him.
Lovino could not wrap his mind around it, so he tried to stop thinking about it. Completely. Until the next night when he awoke to the same fevered noises and grunts.
On the fourth day, the steady routine was shot to hell.
Lovino was still preparing the morning's breakfast when Berwald came to him saying, "A storm's coming."
Those words set Lovino into motion, grabbing coiled rope and with some instruction from Berwald went about securing the baskets and barrels of food. The pots were stuffed away, and all of the inventory parchments were given to Berwald who locked them in a sealed tin box to prevent it from becoming water logged.
The waters were already becoming rough by the time they had chained all the livestock cages. Lovino, inexperienced with how the ship heaved beneath his feet, found himself on hands and knees, swearing. Berwald simply twisted a fist into the back of his shirt and hauled him up and out as men scrambled to the deck at the sound of the Quartermaster's call.
On deck Lovino could not help but gape at the darkness of the clouds above them, and the harshness of the wind billowing at the mast and men. The sails were being pulled up onto the yardarms and tied, wood groaning, the crows nest swaying to-and-fro in the wind. There was a ribbon of lightening, followed by the menacing rumble of thunder as the clouds became black in color and growing wrath. Unwittingly, Lovino turned towards the helm as Berwald shoved the tin with the precious documents to him with orders to give them to the Sailing Master. There, black hat and white plume, blood red coat with black cuffs and gold cufflinks, stood Captain Carriedo. He had full hands on the ship's wheel, behind him was Edelstein, scope over one eye watching the swiftly approaching storm.
The second flash of lightning set Lovino's feet moving, running unheedingly towards the helm. He had to shoulder his way in between the crewmen flitting about and nearly barreled straight into the De Kaizer. The Quartermaster grasped his arm tightly and demanded over the roar of thunder, "Where are you running to? Help secure the canons!"
Lovino lifted the tin, and was about to stutter the task he was assigned, but De Kaizer took one look at it and nodded, shoving him away. "Go. Give that to Roderich and then get your ass down and help with the canons."
Nodding in acknowledgement, Lovino raced towards the quarterdeck and then took the stairs up to the helm in two. Infant drops of rain hit his face, and wind blew his hair back when he approached the two men, captain and sailor.
It was Edelstein who noticed his approach first, his spectacles splattered with drizzle. Trying to keep his eyes on the Sailing Master rather than the pirate captain who was now staring at him in mild surprise, Lovino thrust the tin and stammered, "F-from Berwarld. T-the s-store inventory." He silently cursed how timid his voice was, and swiftly turned about and fled from that horrible green lurid stare.
He did not have a chance to think much more of the issue for the storm picked up its ferocious pace. Within moments Lovino had his arms around the round body of a canon as two other crewmembers tied it down into place. Waves came crashing over the body of the ship, sweeping over the deck as if trying to cleanse years of filth. Lovino, and a few other sailors found their feet swept from beneath them multiple times. As the waves became stronger and harsher, Lovino scrambled below deck in fear of being swept into the dark waters, drenched and terrified that the ship would be swallowed whole.
He was gripping the stairway rail when there was a shout, followed by a loud crack. He cried out when the ropes securing one of the canons snapped with the powerful surge of the ship, sending it barreling against the side wall and crushing one of the pirates with a horrible sound that could be heard despite the noise of storm and men.
Lovino watched in wide-eyed horror as men cried, "Get it off him! Quick!" It took three to move the canon, and the pinned pirate slumped forward. The wall behind was splintered with the force of the strike, blood smeared on the wood drenching both front and back of the man's torso. Arms were bent oddly across his middle as if his human limbs could protect him from smashing iron. Face white, eyes pale and staring, blood bright red on his lips.
"Oxenstierna!" The men now cried, "Get Berwald! Quick!"
Again, the ship lurched, and sea water burst through the portholes. Lovino clung to his spot, unwilling to descend nor ascent. One pirate climbing the stairs stopped beside him. "You!" he yelled over the storm, grabbing Lovino's shoulder and bending close with squinting eyes. "Y'er the Cook's boy. Get down an' help th' man!"
Tongue lodged in throat, Lovino could not muster a single protest as he was hauled up and then nearly flung down towards the injured pirate's body. He was shoved to his knees, pants soaking in both salt water and blood, hands on him, gripping him, shaking him, saying, "Do something! Cook's boy, do something! Fix him, damn you, fix him!"
The man's whole middle was a mess of crushed flesh and bone. He could see the peek of entrails, shining and wet. The skin was white, the eyes staring at nothing. Dead. He was dead. What was he supposed to do?
But the pirates…these men…continued to press down on him so that he was now bracing on his arms to prevent himself from falling over. The ship moved beneath them and one elbow gave and now Lovino's face was beside the dead man's toso, and Lord have mercy, I can smell him!
The hands were suddenly gone, and Lovino pushed himself up in time to see Tino, short, woman-like Tino, backhand one man while yelling, "What do you think you're doing? Secure the canon before it kills another man! Now!"
Never before had he been so happy to see another man before. As he got to his feet, Tino gave him a once over to see if he was not worse for wear, and then said, "Help me get the body out of the way. We'll deal with the dead later."
Tino took the man's legs while Lovino wrapped his arms beneath the armpits and between the both of them they managed to haul the body into one of the stores. Even though both of them were drenched, Tino wiped sweat from his brow with his forearm. "Just 'cause you can put a meal together they think you can put a man together…" he muttered softly.
Lovino watched him, his back braced against the wall. Courtesy would be to thank the other man for saving him, but such words and sentiment were barred away from Lovino's tongue. He did not know if he could speak them, even now, shivering with cold and frightened out of his wits.
The blond pirate placed his hand on the wall and said, "Seems like the waves are calming down. Good. I counted two going overboard, and Lord knows how many more unfortunate wretches there are like this one." He nodded with his head towards the dead man. Then, with a shake, he straightened his back and walked out of the store, leaving Lovino baffled at the complete change he had witnessed in the other.
Small, fragile looking Tino, catamite to Berwald. Large eyes, soft blond hair, and pale skin. Yet, his station on the ship was that of the Gunner, the best shot on the ship and proud of it. Despite his stature he dominated another pirate, cowed him into obeying with one strike from his twig-like arm. There was not a single shred of doubt in Tino's eyes that he would be disobeyed. He knew and understood the power he had over the men, knew how to harness it and deal his punishments.
Tino was a man.
Knees suddenly weak, Lovino sank down into a crouch, knees bent, feet spread. Swallowing, he glanced over to the body and found himself unnerved by staring eyes. Reaching over, his fingers shaking, Lovino gently pulled at the man's lids and shut them before pulling back and tucking his hands tightly under his armpits.
True to Tino's words, Lovino could feel the water and wind calming its temper, and allowed himself to relax a bit. He tiled his head up so that back of his head rested against the wooden wall, listening to the commotion of the pirates cursing and scrambling about under and above deck. There would be a lot of work to be done after such a storm, Lovino thought. Such a shame that he had no inclination of leaving his current post and offering his hands to help. He might cook them their meals, but he held no loyalty to them, their ship, nor their wretched captain. May each and every single one of them face the firing squad.
Inadvertently he dozed off, waking with a jolt as two men entered the room and began hauling the body out by the legs.
"What are you doing?" He asked, scrambling to his feet and swaying dizzily.
Only one of them looked up, a man with dark skin of an African, and answered, "Captains' gonna give 'im his last rites before he joins Davy Jones' crew."
Of course, he thought as he followed them. They had to dump the body overboard. A corpse attracted too many diseases to be held properly in such a confined space as a ship.
At least that was what had been explained to him and Feliciano not so long ago when they had been pried off of their grandfather's body.
Feliciano had cried horribly. Both priest and mate - both ordained - had perished during the pirate attack, leaving the ship with many dead and not a single soul to send off their souls. There were no last rites, no Christian burial for their grandfather. Just two brothers weeping as his body sank into the black and blue of the dark waters.
Perhaps, Lovino could almost hear his brother's voice cracked with tears, once in the New World we can make enough to buy some plot and stone?
There's no body, Feliciano, he had argued.
Lovino could vividly remember the press of Feliciano's face on his shoulder, the moist pricks of his tears. At least…we might have a place to remember and pray…
A place to remember and pray.
Lovino stepped up into the sunlight, nearly blinding by his brightness after such gloom. There was debris strewn around the deck, pirates with brooms at hand sweeping and mopping. Pirates up on the yardarms inspecting the sails. Pirates at the canons checking the powder and balls. Pirates dumping bodies overboard like forgotten sacks.
Would he ever find a place to remember and pray? Would he even survive long enough to ever see land again? Or would he end up like one of those lot, crushed and dead, dumped and done with?
The Captain was dressed in coat of black as he waved his hands over the faces of his dead crew, mouth moving in recitation of prayer. Lovino almost laughed at the hilarity of the sight: A demon crew on a demon ship with the devil himself sending them off to hell with the flowery false words of God on his lips.
It was such a blasphemy that Lovino turned away as the last body was thrown over the rails.
He found Berwald shortly and the two were about to head below to take stock of the damages to the kitchen when the loud booming voice of De Kaizer shouted out, "All hands on deck!"
Others called out with the same words and soon the deck was crowded with Emma's crew. Lovino felt smothered, but Berwald took hold of his shoulder and pushed the two of them forward so that they stood at the head of the crowd.
Cold prickles of absolute dread chilled his bones when he noticed one man on his knees with arms bound behind him and sack over his head. Instinctively, his eyes darted around the surrounding crowd, eyes landing on Thomas Anderson's grizzled form. His white hair was plastered to his head, beginning to frizz from the beat of the sun. It was his eyes, however, that told Lovino everything.
The bound man was Harris White.
Abel De Kaizer was pacing around the deck, not speaking until he estimated the whole crew was present. Behind him Captain Carriedo stood with black clad arms over his chest, eyes dark and stormy as he surveyed his men's reaction to the proceedings. Next to him Edelstein stood vigil, a notebook open as he scribed the event.
When the Quartermaster spoke, not a single soul uttered a sound. "You all signed the Articles of the Armada. There isn't a single man here that did not use his own hand to sign his name. I myself read it to every single one of you present, so none can step forward and argue ignorance to our law." He reached down and ripped the bag from White's head, and Lovino flinched at how beaten his face was, eyes swollen shut, mouth so bloodied that it foamed, nose and jaw obviously broken.
Berwald's hand on his shoulder was suddenly a manacle, iron hard and holding him captive where he stood.
De Kaizer tangled his hand into White's hair, keeping his head up for all to see as he continued, "This man here, Harris White, is accused of stealing from the gunnery and attempting desertion. This cowardly thief whom we spared not a fortnight ago, who ate a share of our food, abandoned us during our time of need, stole three rifles and was cutting the ropes to one of the small boats when he was apprehended." The scarred man's voice rose with the wind, "'That if any of the Company shall advise, or speak any thing tending to the separating or breaking of the Company, or shall by any Means offer or endeavor to desert or quit the Company, that person shall be shot to Death by the Quarter Master's Order, without the sentence of a Court Martial.'"
With that the man pulled out a rifle and placed it against White's temple and pulled the trigger. Blood and bone sprayed as the bullet blew through the opposite side of his head. De Kaizer released the head and did not even look down as the body slumped forward lifeless. "Remember what you signed your names to, men! I will not tolerate any acts of theft or desertion. It is a death sentence, and this is a reminder to all who have forgotten!"
He then pointed a horrible finger at both Anderson and Lovino. "You, his former mates. Throw this filth overboard and clean the deck."
Anderson, face nearly as white as his head stepped forward immediately. Lovino on the other hand stood frozen in place until Berwald shoved him gently. Leaden, iron-weighed his feet felt as he stumbled ahead. It felt like his body was made out of thin wood, his joints being pulled by strings jerkily as he bent down beside his late-crewmate and with the aid of White they managed to heave the body overboard.
When Lovino raised his hand to make the sign of the trinity, De Kaizer barked, "No. He goes where traitors go in death."
A bucket with water and dirty rag appeared like magic, Lovino did not know who fetched it – perhaps it had been there the whole time.
Anderson took to the task of scrubbing with his weathered face pinched in grief. Lovino, though no stranger to cleaning stains off pots and spills off wood floors, found himself dry heaving when he found bits of brain and bone in his hand. As he cleaned he noted briefly the captain speaking closely to both Berwald and De Kaizer, before ducking his head down when the quartermaster seemed to sense them being watched. Berwald's face was stormy when he left them, and Lovino could only wonder at the tasks ahead of the pirate boatswain. Cook, carpenter and medic all in one, now with a ship cracked and groaning and men bruised and cut, and food waterlogged and inedible.
Lovino paused in his work, red staining him to his elbows. They were running low on food before the storm, and Lord knew what devastation the storm did to their stores. He would need to take inventory again and start rationing. How far away were they from the nearest port? Were there any islands that they could bring the ship ashore to forage for some meat and fruit?
Lovino blinked and looked to Anderson. The older man was crouching beside the bucket of bloodied water. He too was covered with it, shirtsleeves and pants. His eyes were so aged and exhausted that Lovino suddenly feared what the man was about to say.
"Don't," he said sharply, standing swiftly. "Just…don't say anything."
To his horror, tears formed in Anderson's grayed eyes, and there was such broken devastation in them when he whispered, "We cannot speak out loud no prayer nor absolution…but perhaps we can say it in our hearts? Are we not Christian men even when amongst devils?" White lashes fluttered and fell as his lids shut, and Lovino watched the old man take three deep shuddering breaths and knew that Anderson now prayed.
This action, such a quiet act of defiance while their captures were occupied, moved Lovino. Though he had barely known Harris White, and knew even less of old man Anderson, he had never been abused by them nor had they ever done him slight. Just the other day, they had offered him friendship despite knowing the sin that Lovino had been forced to partake in. Comradeship, acceptance…
The least he could do was pray with his heart.
So when Lovino took the bucket in hand and titled it over the rail, he began, "Pater Noster…"
The kitchen was been a right mess, waterlogged, with seaweed having burst through the portholes and just giving Lovino more work to slave over. His hands were white and frozen from the cold of scrubbing the seawater off all the equipment and floorboards. His gut twisted in worry as he found most of their stores were completely ruined. Half the chickens were gone while the other half were dead. He would have to skin and salt the meat to try to preserve what they had left before it rot. There was barely enough food for two days.
Rationing it was then. How that would fare on a ship of degenerates who would most likely sell their mothers for a bowl of broth rather than go a night with hungry bellies…Lovino stubbornly tried not to think of it. It would be a disaster for sure, but then, if these men killed each other just to get a second lick of food, all the better.
Berwald had been holding tight to a frightening scowl since the execution. He popped into the kitchen twice, just to glance over Lovino's progress before going off to fix both wood and man.
On his own Lovino took his cooking on deck – despairing at how long it took to light a fire with everything so drenched. Tonight was a simple broth with carrots, onions and minced chicken. A few men looked over his shoulder and grumbled at the scarcity of it, but he snapped at them to pick some oranges from the garden of the ocean if they wanted more.
The broth was just nearly complete when Berwald joined him and whispered lowly, "You will take the Captain his meal tonight."
The ladle that Lovino had been using to stir slipped from his numb fingers and clattered loudly to the ground. Hot scalding broth had splattered onto his shins, but though it stung Lovino did not move from his spot, staring wide-eyed up at the tall pirate. His mouth opened and shut, aimless and wordless.
Berwald did not seem fazed by his frozen state, bending down to retrieve the ladle. He procured a bowl and filled it to the brim with broth and offered it to the still witless Italian.
Finally, Lovino managed to shake his head, his eyes now glued to the bowl as if it were meant to cut him. "N-no," he protested, taking a step back. "No."
The Boatswain would have none of it. One large hand shot forward just as Lovino seemed about to flee, snatching him by the shoulder of his shirt and hauling him close. "You knew this would come," the pirate said, dark blue eyes stone cold. "You've endured it before. You will endure it again."
"Bastard…" Lovino half whimpered, half hissed, trying to twist away.
Berwarld shook him, hard and bruising. "Choose," he tilted his head to the side so that Lovino could see the other crewmembers watching them. "Defy the captain and see what they do to you…" he pressed the bowl firmly against Lovino's clenched fists. "Or do as you're told."
They stared at one another, one unrelenting as stone the other shattering like glass. Lovino dropped his gaze and with shaking cold hands took the bowl. Shoulders hunched, back stiff, he forced himself to look up at the man and swore, "Only God can forgive you, you fucking savage, for I have none to offer you."
Blue eyes blinked slowly at him in acknowledgement, but that was all he allowed Lovino. The large pirate turned away from him, ladle in hand and waving the men towards the boiling pot of dinner. He had said what he intended and achieved his objective. Lovino was forced to step aside or be trampled by the forward surge of hungry pirates pushing and shoving to be served before they were left with none.
Lovino watched them from the side unable to make himself move, his mind desperately thinking of ways to escape. Dump the bowl, climb the main mast and hide in the crow's nest? Impossible, he would surely fall. Make way to one of the rowboats and risk the mercy of the great blue? Impossible, he would need a knife to cut the ropes, and on both sides of the Emma sailed the Joan de Arc and Knight. Some lookout on either one of those ships would surely spot him…No…there had to be some other way…
"The food cools."
With an undignified startle, Lovino found quartermaster De Kaizer standing beside him. Before he had a chance to even utter an excuse, the scarred pirate said, "If you're feet are too useless then you have no use for them. I would gladly cut them off and see how you fare without them."
That sent Lovino running, not doubting the violent man's words. Keeping his head down, watching his feet step forward one after the other over the dark wood of the deck. The men ignored him, heading the opposite direction as he, following their noses to the smell of food. Lucky bastards. While they fill their bellies with Lovino's hard work, he on the other hand was walking towards…
The door to the captain's cabin loomed before him. Stretched out and distorted ominously, for behind the panels and nails sat the devil who would surely devour him. Rip his soul to shreds and savor his shattering with a wicked grin and malevolent green in his eyes.
He did not want to think of them. For their memory took him to that wretched moment othe last time he entered the room. The pain, the humiliation, the sin. Already he could feel his bones and joints begin to rattle. He couldn't do this. How could he go through with this knowing exactly what waited for him? Would he simply walk through the door like a lamb to slaughter, bleating innocently at the pull of his master?
But he was no sheep, nor did he have a master no matter what anyone said to differ. It was simple. Desertion meant death – and a sure death for there was no way that Lovino could escape. Stepping forward and facing his adversary like a man meant there would be another day to face, another day alive, another day with the possibility of hope…
If Tino could survive amongst the rabble, why not Lovino?
Lovino was no sheep. Berwald had told him to choose. Sheep were incapable of choosing their fates. Berwald had told him to endure, so he would endure whatever fell this night.
Lovino shouldered the door open gently and stepped in.
No tears, he swore. No cries of fear, no matter how horrifying his torture. Lovino would not allow it.
Captain Antonio Carriedo sat at his table full of maps. He wore no coat, the white of his shirt open and baring tanned chest and hair. His hat was discarded on one of the posts of the bed, the white plume like a bird perched to observe. One elbow was leaning atop the table, hand pushed into the tangles of his brown hair that was dark with the toils of the day. A compass lay open and cracked next to one booted foot. Three candles lit the gloom of the room.
All these details were insignificant but for the glare of those green eyes staring ominously at him, letting Lovino know that he had made a grave mistake.
The pirate stood.
Lovino threw the bowl at his head.
The contents splattered as the man swatted it before it struck him, sending the bowl shooting to the corner with a loud shattering crash.
Everything seemed to slow, Lovino could see all the details brightly even as he turned away to flee. There was broth staining Carriedo's sleeve and collar, his eyes darkening in rage, a snarl twisting tanned features as white teeth clashed. Lovino's hands were on the doorknob, twisting, and then the slam of a weight crushed him into the wood so that all the air left his lungs and he saw flashes of red and black. His hands on the doorknob kept him from collapsing that instant, but they stood no chance as the pirate captain clasped both his fists together and slammed them into the center of Lovino's back.
Knees buckled and the young man went down with a choked cry. Agonizing fire spread across his back, flaming the nerves of his spine. He was on his elbows and knees, gasping, ears ringing so loud he nearly did not hear the Spaniard speak.
"Only the guilty turn their backs and run. Tell me, mi Italiano, what have you to confess for?"
"Confess?" Lovino coughed, lifting his head up to look at the man looming over him. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Your crewmate," Carriedo spat the word like poison. "He betrayed my goodwill. Do not think me dull in that I would not recall how you two exchanged words not too long ago."
Lovino swallowed a laden of fear that was rising from his bowels. "I have made no move to break my contract," he argued, trying not to tremble at the implication. "I had no clue what the fool planned until the moment his crime was announced!"
The green of Carriedo's eyes burned like acid. "You expect me to believe that you would not take the first opportunity to run?" he asked lowly. His lips twisted into a horrifying smile, made more grotesque by the hostility in his eyes. "Did you enjoy your time with me so much that you would turn away from your comrade?" He reached down, and ran the back of his knuckles along Lovino's jaw. "Perhaps I was wrong to make you wait so long, for surely one night would not have been enough to satiate an appetite of one so young?"
Oh God. Lovino slapped the hand away. "Don't."
"None of that," the man had the audacity to laugh. "I was gentle that time," his voice lowered a decibel, becoming deep and sultry and every bit of a seducing devil, beautiful to behold even when spouting such filth from his lips. His hand dropped, reaching. "Remember how I made you come? My hand stroking you to completion, and how obediently you cried? I can do that for you again. I can make it feel good. Just be a good boy…a sweet boy for me tonight, yes?"
Lovino shrank away from him, and when the hand continued to seek his trousers, he grasped the wrist and sank his nails in. He was frightened, oh how frightened he was. But he would not let this man have an easy time with him. He would not cry tears like a woman about to be despoiled. He was a man, and would endure this torture like a man.
"I will kill you," he snarled, proud that though his words shook with fear they were firm and clear. "Touch me, and I will kill you."
And again, Lovino found himself watching Carriedo's eyes, such a beautiful green yet so contorted with venom. He had made his decision. He would not be a balm to whatever poison that twisted this man's psyche. He would not be Berwald's Tino. Would not allow a man to touch him, even in tenderness.
Better violence than false touches of gentleness.
They stared at each other, Lovino firm in his resistance, and the pirate Captain with growing anger at the defiance.
"I said before," the man spoke, "I would take what I wanted from you."
"You're captain," Lovino spat. "Every man on this ship would gladly hand me to you if you asked." Berwald did. Tino did. De Kaizer did.
Carriedo yanked his wrist free from Lovino, reaching to the back of his neck and tangling his fingers into the soft hairs there. "Not Harris White," he said. "He would have taken you with him if he had the chance."
When Lovino swallowed, it was thick with despair. "I never gave him the chance."
This made the pirate tilt his head slightly to the side. His twisted features slackening in curiosity. "Why didn't you give it to him?"
"Because," Lovino looked the man straight in the eye, "I wouldn't be alive now if I had."
Something flickered across the other man's face, unfathomable and impenetrable. Next he pulled at Lovino's hair, forcing the Italian to get to his feet.
He shoved forward, forcing Lovino to stumble right into the table, his hands slamming forward to catch himself atop the maps. Lovino tried to turn but once again the pirate grabbed him by the hair and shoved his head viciously down so he was bent over, while at the same time the other hand reached for the top of his trousers and yanked down.
"Stop! Don't touch me!" Lovino yelled out at the top of his lungs. He placed his hands to his sides and tried to push up to no avail. His legs kick out but became tangled in his pants. Terror at the memory of pain nearly crippled his struggles as the pirate stepped on the pants to aid in completely removing them, but Lovino remembered his conviction and bit his lip to swallow a sob.
None of that. This was inevitable. He would take it like a man.
There were no fleeting touches this time, no horrible seduction or gentle cajoling. Lovino had heard drunk men speak of 'fucking' which was different from 'sex' and the opposite of 'love making'. He had not understood the difference then – how naive he had been.
Carriedo fucked him. Held him firmly down by the hair on his map-strewed table. Used his own spit on his fingers before shoving them roughly into Lovino's anus. There were no words exchanged, even when Lovino cried out in pain at the penetration, even when Lovino fought to dislodge the man by kicking and attempting to hit him by swinging his arms back.
Carriedo fucked him. Shoving his dick in with a low grunt, pressing his whole weight down on Lovino to keep him still as he thrashed for freedom. He did not wait to allow Lovino to adjust to his invasive size. Instead the pirate managed to curl an arm beneath the young man's thigh and pulled it up so the knee became trapped on the table, giving the pirate easier access to thrust deeper.
Lovino bit into his arm to stop his cries. Keeping his eyes shut in fear of the tears that would surely leak out. With every painful thrust he found himself shoved more onto the table so that his toes barely touched the floor. He kept on arm over his face to bite and block, while the other hand gripped into the table to try to hold himself steady as the brutish pirate continued to shove into him unheedingly.
It was agony but different than the first time. The pain was there, the shame still the same but with none of that paralyzing devastation that had threatened to send Lovino to madness before. He had been so terrified, but now more than that was anger that had been simmering below the surface since that first night.
How dare this man do this to him.
It was over quickly – thankfully for it felt like he would be pounded through the table. When Carriedo withdrew with a painful burn, Lovino let his knees fold beneath him as he sank down to the floor, trembling in agony, and forcing his burning eyes to stay the tears that threatened to spill. Carriedo cleaned himself off with a cloth and then wordlessly dropped it over the young Italian's legs. He was unable to look up at the man as he wiped both semen and blood dripping from his rear and down the insides of his legs, making him swallow the utter revulsion. Beside him, lying just as broken was the compass, most likely thrown at some type of imagined crime. Effective at one point but now rendered useless after the abuse shattered it to pieces.
Twice now this wretched devil of a man had deemed to take what he wanted without a thought of the damages. Lovino was nothing better than a whore to the man…even lowly for at least whores were paid for allowing such debauchery! He was an object, a thing, a claimed prize, property of the ship and the captain to do as he pleased. Break him. Mend him. Kill him. Save him. Like God, with power over man's fate, Captain Carriedo lorded his power over Lovino.
He had no right. He had no right!
"Captain," he called out, and when the pirate turned to him curiously, Lovino swiftly swept the broken compass up and launched it at the man.
This time his aim was true, metal catching Carriedo over the right brow, cutting skin and sending blood dripping down his temple. With a hoarse shout, Lovino launched himself at the reeling man's torso, sending them both crashing to the ground. Scrambling, even as the pirate grasped him by the shoulder, Lovino managed to straddle the man and took hold of his throat.
"Die!" he screamed as he squeezed the neck in between his hands. He could feel the flesh give beneath his clawing fingers, the fragile bones constricted. There was a pulse there vibrating through him, making him panic as he stared down at his tormentor and began to panic. "Die, just die! Stop moving and die!"
But Captain Carriedo did not die. He made a guttural sound in his chest, took hold of Lovino's grasping wrists and from behind kicked his knee, managing to completely unbalance the Italian man. Lovino was thrust forward, losing his hold to catch himself, and in that mere second the pirate was upon him, surging upwards and completely throwing him off. He was taken by the shirt and then backhanded so hard he felt his mouth fill with blood. And again, Carriedo's fist struck, this time at his temple and oh God it hurt so bad that he cried out, bringing both arms up to protect himself.
Carriedo would have none of that. He was completely silent as he stood up and dragged Lovino to his feet. He released Lovino, and just as the Italian peeked from the shelter of his arms, the pirate kicked forward at his gut. All air whooshed from him, and as his arms dropped to cradle his aching abdomen the man struck him again on the face. He stumbled and would have fallen, but was held again, and once more as soon as he got his footing was attacked, another kick followed by a punch.
Finally, with a cruel hand holding him up by the hair, Carriedo looked him up and down then asked, "Enough?"
His lips were cut, tongue bitten, a tooth felt loose. He could he feel his right eye beginning to swell, and his jaw felt unhinged. It hurt to breath.
'Enough' he asked?
Lovino spat onto the pirate's face in response. Blood tinged phlegm on a dark cheek.
Which made Carriedo smile.
The next instant Lovino was flat on the ground, head reeling and uncertain at what point and from where the fuck the pirate had stuck him. He was seeing double, and in complete disorientation watched as the Carriedo opened the casement attached to the foot of the bed and empty it of his clothes. Shaking his head, Lovino rolled to his side trying to push himself up. He never got the chance, for suddenly the pirate was over him, ripping his shirt off.
Panicked Lovino crossed his arms to keep the last piece of clothing on him. But the cloth ripped from the back, his flailing arms manhandled out of the shreds of the sleeves, leaving him completely nude. He managed to croak in protest, a low moan unable to complete a full curse, before he was once again seized by the hair and hauled up. Lovino stumbled as he was yanked back, and cried out when his legs hit the edge of the casement, sending him stumbling ungainly into its open maw.
Confused, but suddenly petrified Lovino shouted out a strangled, "No!" Before the lid was slammed shut and blanketed him in darkness. There was a click of the lock, and his hands flew up to hit the lid, legs twisted uncomfortably from where he had been thrown, unable to stretch out.
Locked. Trapped. Like an object tucked away to be pulled out for another occasion.
He would suffocate in here, crammed as he was. He couldn't move without splinters of wood scrapping into his bare skin. Couldn't even push up properly to stick his nose beside the keyhole to breath.
He would die. Surely he would die, discarded and forgotten. And he had to get out, he had to get OUT.
Lovino could not even recognize his screams.
1) What Abel De Kaizer quoted right before executing Harris White is directly from Captain Edward Low's pirate articles that he forced his crew to sign. I did not make this stuff up!
2) Pater Noster: "Our Father" in Latin. The beginning of the Lord's Prayer.
I now have a tumblr account. It is .com. I think that it might be a nice place for people who want to ask me things about this story (or any of my other neglected works) and to share common interests. I might also go off rambling on characterizations and other weird stuff. It's pretty empty right now but hopefully I'll figure something out!