Request: Pirates! Justin/JC, please. And, um, Christina as a lusty pirate queen if you can fit her in.
The whole crew thought Chasez would be a terrible pirate. McLean was so convinced of the fact he even brought aboard a specially purloined chunk of iron, to tie round Chasez's ankle when he toppled him over into the deep. But Chasez had taken to it like a whore to cock.
By the time they came ashore at Īle Sainte Marie, flush with gold, he was side to side with the hardest, surliest, most vicious men that Kirkpatrick had had the pleasure of pillaging with. And not a one of them gave him a sideways glance.
Chasez called for wine and others called for women and they made a spectacle of themselves across half the tavern, flinging coin about like so many crumbs. Chasez didn't find himself a warm body, though, and Kirkpatrick hadn't expected him to. Though he did give token pats and gropes when the crew was watching, a lot like Timberlake, the Englishman, always had.
They were both pretty enough they had maids wanting their pats and gropes, after all, and it would do neither of them any good to have folk knowing they only had notions for each other. Kirkpatrick would never tell, though; everyone had their secrets.
He settled into his wooden chair like a throne, his feet up on a bench and his cabin boy was at his knee, like he always was, at sea or on shore. He was there to please, and that he did. Kirkpatrick could afford to have people cater to his every whim, until the gold dried up and they set off again in search of more.
Chasez was on his second bottle of wine, but he wasn't nearly as sotted as he was making out to be. He'd have an excuse to stumble off soon, even without a woman on his arm, and that was when he'd meet Timberlake up the road. Wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last time, but Kirkpatrick's men were blind to what they didn't want to see. It was why he was their captain, and they would ever be struggling for their next bit of treasure.
He finished off his own rum and stood to leave, right as Chasez made his way to the door. Chris the cabin boy, who'd stood quickly to get the door for him, was knocked off his feet by Chasez's erratically swinging arm.
"Oh, oh, apologies," Chasez said, gentlemanly habits never quite beaten out of him, and quite soberly bent down to aid the young man. When Chasez took Chris's arm, though, his shirt was tugged that little bit too far to the side, falling down his shoulder. Those soft round breasts that Kirkpatrick had only just unbound this evening were exposed for the few short moments it took Christina to tug the shirt closed again.
"You've..." said Chasez, his mouth flapping open in abject astonishment. Not fury, that wasn't Chasez's style, but bewilderment and suspicion dominated his expression. "The luck, Kirkpatrick, the luck!"
"We've had plenty of luck these past months," Kirkpatrick snapped, pulling Christina closer, protectively.
"But she's a girl!"
"Aye, she is," said Kirkpatrick. "And you'll not say a word about it, if you know what's good for ye." He looked across the room at where Timberlake was busy making his excuses, then back to Chasez again. Chasez was plenty quick enough to understand.
"Aye," he said, tipping his head in Kirkpatrick's direction, then at Christina as well. "Then I'll be off. Pleasant evening to ye." As Kirkpatrick watched Timberlake slip away soon after, he was sure that the two of them, too, would be having as pleasant an evening as any, and better than most.