{ BOOTY }
part one

He led the prisoner into his room, sighing at the boy's appearance. He should have known better than to think his crew could be trusted around a boy such as this. He closed the door behind them, and locked it. He turned back to his captive. His eyes were challenging, and yet the little waif was trembling before him. No wonder. If Captain Barton had been a few minutes later, the boy would no longer have been innocent. As it was, he still looked worse for wear.


His blonde hair disheveled, the already ragged shirt he had worn, was now tattered and hardly sufficed to cover his thin frame. The Captain ran his eyes all over the boy, examining every delicious inch. He could see why his crew had been driven to the lengths they had. Not that that made the almost crime acceptable. No, they would all still be punished fully for trying to touch what was his. But he understood their motivation. It was the same thing that compelled him to take the boy hostage, instead of killing him.


It was partially his looks. Flaxen hair framing the most angelic, round face. Eyes, a greenish blue, and deep as the oceans themselves. Skin, the color of fresh cream, such a contrast to the dark tans of the sailors. His body was slender, but perfectly muscled. Those features were enough to make anyone with a pulse desire the boy, but he had something else too. Beneath his innocent exterior, one could sense an inherent sexuality. The way he moved, or looked at you, or smiled so sweetly, and yet, so hungrily. They were qualities the Captain knew would make the fieriest of lovers. Qualities he quite planned on exploring.


The blonde had spent two days in the brig, while Captain Barton bided his time. The pirate was planning on the way to entice the boy to his bed. He had never taken a lover by force, and didn't intend to start now. Although he had the suspicion that once he had a taste of the lovely creature before him, no other person would ever satisfy him again. But apparently two days had been two days too long. He wasn't the only one to notice the boy's appeal. The anger still burned through him at the thought of anyone but himself taking the boy. He wondered if he was going soft.


He was the dreaded pirate Barton, Captain of the ship the Noble Angel. The ship's name often struck people as bizarre, but it was true enough that he had sent many to the heavens. But as he had first set eyes upon the boy in front of him, the feared pirate had felt something pulling at his jaded heart. He should have killed the boy, and been done with it. But some force, some.. something hadn't let him. Maybe it was the pleading in those blue green eyes. Or perhaps it was the way he was drawn to the boy even before he knew what was happening.


He had seen the little one kneeling and bracing himself for his oncoming demise, and he was overcome with a fierce need to protect him. A need he still didn't understand. Whatever the reason, the pirate had spared the blonde's life with no thoughts of compensation for himself. He watched as the boy shifted under his scrutiny, and the torn shirt slid off one of his pale shoulders. Ok, maybe *some* compensation. But it would be given willingly. Barton didn't believe in love, certainly not at first sight, but he knew the stirrings in him were far more than lust.


The boy shifted again, obviously uncomfortable under his gaze. The shirt slid further down, baring one light, pink nipple to the Captain's eyes. Barton swallowed a few times, and forced himself to remain in control. The last thing the frightened blonde needed was another attack. It was a strenuous battle to keep his hands to himself, though. The boy was too enticing.


Standing there in his ripped shirt, tight, knee-length black breeches, and knee-high, blue and black striped socks. His shoes had disappeared mysteriously. The captain would have to see about getting him another pair. But for the time being he rather liked the boy standing there in his stocking feet. For some reason it added to the allure of his innocence. And gave him in air of vulnerability that was undeniably enchanting.


The blonde was starting to look completely jumpy, standing there in the silence of the room. Barton took a step forward, and the boy took a step back. The tall pirate chuckled to himself.  This one would take time.


He put his hands up, in what he hoped was a soothing gesture. "Sshhh, little one. I'm not going to hurt you. I just wanted to untie your wrists."


The blonde captive looked down to the rope that bound his wrists in front of him. The skin underneath was rubbed raw, and red in color. He stared into the pirate's face, before holding his hands out in front of him. The Captain gave a hint of a smile. He moved closer, and pulled out his dagger.


Barton poised the dagger above the ropes, and looked into the face of the boy. "Promise you won't try to attack me again?"


That had been the reason for tying the boy's hands in the first place. As the Captain had come upon the scene, and seen what his crew was trying to do, he had pushed them aside, and hauled his little one over his shoulder. The blonde had put up one hell of a fight, kicking and screaming bloody murder. Barton had put him down, and bound the boy's hands before they could do any further damage.


The boy looked at him defiantly, "No."


The Captain's green eyes widened. No one had ever spoken to him so forcefully. Usually they cowered before him.


He had to admire this one's courage. "Oh? Then I suppose to protect myself, I shall be forced to leave you bound."


The boy snorted, eyes full of rebelliousness. "I suppose so," he retorted.


This time the Captain did indeed smile. This golden haired vision was a rare find. Not only was he beautiful, but he a spirit to match. A person could raid all the ships in the seven seas, and never find a prize such as this. Barton knew he would never again see a treasure to equal him, and he fully intended to keep the boy by his side, and in his bed, forever. The latter of the two being the solitary thought in his mind at present.


And he again had to wonder just why this particular boy fascinated him so much. Why he made the pirate feel so possessive, and why he made him feel the need to shield the blonde from all harms. And most importantly, why the thought of anyone else touching the little one made his blood boil. Or, why the thought of this boy not being with him, struck a nerve deep inside of him. Surely the boy couldn't have gotten to him that fast. He was the most savage pirate to sail the waters, one frail boy couldn't have possibly....


But he had. They had not even carried on a conversation, and yet Barton knew this boy was his. Would always be his. Come hell, or high water, his little one would remain by him forever. He was definitely going soft. He sighed to himself.


A soft, musical voice broke the silence. "Excuse me. Can you stop staring at me like that? You're making me nervous."


Captain Baton shook himself at his reverie, and stopped oogling the boy. He hadn't even realized he had been doing it.


"Just checking out the damage," he replied gruffly.


The boy smirked at him, and rolled his eyes. It had been the same all of his life. He couldn't help what he looked like. And why did that give others the right to gape at him, or try to grab him? He had thought that learning to be sailor would toughen him up, and he could find comrades instead of the regular perverts. But he had been wrong again. Apparently cabin boy was synonymous with ship's whore as well.


Praise the gods that the Captain of his last ship hadn't been one of them. Actually, he had been the one to ward off all the would be molesters. He still had to deal with the leers, and the random gropings, but other than that he was relatively safe.


Until the day their ship was attacked, and his entire crew was killed. When the blonde's life had been spared at first he was grateful. But now he wondered if he had stepped from the frying pan, and into the fire. His encounter with the crew had proved that true enough. If not for the Captain...


He took a long look at his would be savior. There was no denying he was attractive. Tall, and graceful, with well disguised muscles that rippled as he moved. A sweep of brown bangs that covered one side of his tan, defined face. Eyes, or rather, an eye, that was as lush and green as the oasis's of his homeland. When the tall pirate had let him live, he was curious. He was the sole survivor. And he knew there had to be a reason. And he was fairly certain what that reason was.


And he was both disappointed, and excited by it. Disappointed that that the stoic Captain would turn out to be like all the others. Only interested in one thing. And yet, that same thing excited him. He felt drawn to the taller boy. From their first meeting.


The blonde had been on his knees, waiting for his death, which he knew was forthcoming. He looked up into startling emerald eyes, and felt an instant link with the pirate towering over him. One he didn't understand at all. They had hauled him onto their ship, and placed him in a cell below deck. And there he had spent the past two days, bewildered at the feelings that surfaced at the thought of the green eyed boy. And afraid of what would happen if he acted on them.


For the first time he felt that any advances would be most welcome, and yet, he didn't want to be used, and then discarded to the crew. He had held onto his virginity this long, he certainly wasn't going to just give it to the first gorgeous, avenging pirate that came along. No, he wanted his first time to be special. He wanted it to be with the person he was in love with. And the scary thing was, he thought the Captain might just be that person.


Their eyes met, and they felt an electric current run through them. Looking into those blue green eyes, the Captain wondered if the little one would ever be willing to be his. And looking into those green orbs, the blonde wondered if the Captain was only looking for an easy lay. And they both wondered just how the other had captured their heart without ever uttering a single word.


They both finally snapped out of it, and realized just how close they were standing. The blonde blushed and backed away quickly. The backs of his knees knocked against a chair, and he fell into it. The pirate watched him with no small amusement. The boy fumed. The elegant pirate probably thought he was some bumbling virgin. Well, ok, he was a virgin, but not an inept, clumsy fool. And certainly not the source for anyone's entertainment. His mind strayed as to what he and the Captain could do for entertainment, and he blushed again. And he cursed his fair skin, for making it obvious.


The pirate would know what he was thinking, he was sure the tall boy was very familiar with the act of sex. He seemed to be the living entity of it. Or what little of it the blonde knew. Mostly he had only heard conversations about it. And most of them were from the mouth of others, and were aimed at what they would do to *him*, given the chance. The boy didn't like where his train of thoughts was heading. It was dangerous to think that way about the Captain. It would be harder to fight him if he didn't control himself. But did he want to fight? He looked again at the boy standing there.


The pirate was wearing a billowing white shirt. The blonde wondered how he managed to keep his clothes so clean. The other sailors looked like they hadn't ever heard of a bath. The shirt was long sleeved, and open at the neck. There were ties for lacing it, but they were undone, and consequently it hung open, exposing a large patch of muscled flesh.


The blonde gulped, and looked lower trying to distract himself. It didn't work. The Captain had on the tightest black pants he had ever seen. They clung to his body, hugging his legs like a second skin. They were tucked into a pair of shiny, black knee-high boots. He wore a belt low on his hips, from which hung his scabbard, and sword.


He was the picture of piracy. Lean and rugged, fierce, and powerful. The smaller boy felt intimidated as he sat there, rather like an errant child.


The Captain just watched him, delighting in the blush that stained his cheeks a becoming shade of pink. The blonde boy looked quite like an angel in disguise. With the golden hair, and pale skin. Barton yearned to see if all his flesh was as fair. But first things first. He needed to look over the boy, and see that no serious damage had been done. He walked towards the boy, and the little one moved further back into the chair.


The pirate sank to his knees before the blonde, and rested his hands on the boy's shaking knees.


"W-w-what are y-you doing?" The blonde cursed himself for sounding so afraid.


The Captain just smiled slightly up at him. "I need to examine you. I promise you it will be just that. To make sure you're all right. I won't do anything else."


The boy nodded. He was both relieved, and disappointed. He was glad the Captain wasn't going to try and force him. And yet...and yet at the same time he wanted nothing more than to feel those long, tan fingers running over him. He blushed again. This stranger was certainly having an effect on him. He struggled to breathe as the pirate's hands rose.


Captain Barton too was trying to keep his breathing normal. The little one just nodded, but the pirate was confused by the way the blonde seemed to be struggling with himself. Was he afraid to be touched? Or was he afraid Barton would do something less than honorable? Or, the most intriguing, was he afraid of how his body was feeling? Barton smiled inwardly at the last one.


Maybe his little angel would be more willing than he had previously thought. Whatever the case he was going to take it very slow. The boy was an innocent after all. Even if his body did react, that didn't mean the little one was ready, or understanding of it.


With one hand he lifted the boy's bound wrists, and held them over the blonde's head. He let them go, and the boy took the hint, and rested his hands in those golden strands. Barton's hands moved back down, and he pulled the torn shirt up to his little one's neck. He began to run his fingers over the smooth skin, testing for any soreness. The boy trembled slightly. It felt so strange. The feather light touches were intoxicating. They made him feel light, and yet heavy. He wanted to lean into them, to make them stronger, and yet he feared what would happen if he did.


The Captain could find no serious injuries. The boy looked to be fine. A little shaken, but physically ok. But Barton was unable to stop himself from touching that milky skin. It had to be the smoothest thing he had ever felt. It was like silk underneath his calloused fingers. He could feel himself growing hard beneath the tight fabric of his pants. The little one was having an astounding affect on him. To make him this aroused by such mere contact. The boy shivered, whether from pleasure or not, the pirate didn't know. He decided to try and distract the little one. Maybe that would buy him a few more precious seconds to linger.


"So, little one, you never told me what your name was. My name is Captain Trowa Barton."


The boy looked at him, eyes a little wary. As if giving his name would somehow leave him open to attack. Trowa continued to skate his fingers over his chest, making every inch feel warm and alive. The boy swallowed. The Captain looked at him expectantly.


When the blonde remained silent, he nodded. "Fine. I'll just keep calling you little one."


"Q-Q-Quatre."


Barton reluctantly lowered the boy's.. Quatre's.. shirt, and pulled his tied hands down from his head. "It's a pleasure to meet you. Quatre."


Quatre nodded in response, then swallowed again, before he lowered his eyes to his lap. He was puzzled at the feeling running through him. Upset, and yet alleviated that the Captain had stopped.


The pirate sighed to himself. He was losing the little one again. Maybe he had moved too fast. Maybe touching the boy had been a bad idea. He could feel the ache between his legs. Yes, definitely a bad idea. He needed something to take his mind off things.


Something that would draw the boy out as well. "So, little.. er, Quatre. Tell me, where are you from?"


The blonde looked up, surprised. No one had ever asked about him before. Certainly not about his homeland. He licked his lips, and debated on whether or not to answer.


Seeing that pink tongue dart out to wet those supple lips was a little more than Baton could handle. With a repressed groan he settled in the chair next to Quatre, and attempted to hide the bulge in his pants. He looked with interest at the boy, curious to see if he would answer.


Quatre turned a bit, to watch the pirate sit, and saw those green eyes looking at him with attention. So either the Captain.. Trowa.. was a very good liar.. or else he actually wanted to know more about him.


"Well... well... originally I'm from Arabia. That's where I was born, and lived until I ran away to sea."


The Captain raised an eyebrow. "You were raised in the desert? How then, did you run away to the sea?"


Quatre shifted nervously. "Well.. I.. my father was.. is a Sultan. He.. He rules one of the cities.. ummm... El-For... perhaps you know it?"


Trowa's mouth dropped in shock. "Your father is Sultan Winner? Then that.. that would make you.."


"Prince Quatre Raberba Winner..."


Trowa's mouth opened and closed repeatedly, but no words were coming out. Finally he composed himself, disbelief evident on his face.


"I know of your father. I know of you, in fact."


It was Quatre's turn to looked shocked. "Y-y-you do?"


"Yes, I was.. er.. trading.. on the coast of Arabia when you disappeared. It was the talk of the town. Your father was said to have been combing the desert looking for you."


Quatre frowned. "I'm sure he was. He.. he wanted me to be his heir. To take over. But I.. I didn't want to. None of that ever interested me. I wanted to see the ocean. To travel, and see foreign lands."


"So you ran away."


Quatre turned to the pirate, an angry look marring his delicate features. "Yes, I ran away. It was either that, or be forced into a life I hated. Would you have done differently? Would you have stayed in the palace, abhorring your existence, and regretting everyday that you had been born? Or would you have tried to get out? To be able to live, if even for just one-second."


Trowa was taken aback. He didn't mean to sound accusing. Truth be told he admired his little one. To leave a life of luxury and privilege, and become a lowly sailor. Not many would have the guts to do it, no matter how much they hated their future. Quatre got up, and walked around the cabin. He looked troubled, and on the verge of screaming.


Trowa sensed there was more to the story than the blonde was telling. "What else happened?"


Hurt, and confused blue green eyes turned to him. The Captain restrained the urge to get up, and comfort the boy. The blonde might react adversely.


So he remained seated, and tried again. "You don't seem the type to just leave like that. There must be more to it."


Quatre stopped pacing, and looked at him piercingly, as if he was trying to see deep into his soul. Trowa quelled the need to shift under the gaze, to do so would make him appear untrustworthy. And for some reason, gaining Quatre's trust meant a lot to him. So he sat there, and met the blonde's eyes. Quatre sighed and sat down on the edge of the bed.


He suddenly looked world weary. "Yes, there is more. A lot more. When it became well known that I would be my father's successor, many people tried to use that information to their advantage. They figured if they got me now, then when I was Sultan, I would be more willing to hear their ideas."


Trowa nodded, even though Quatre wasn't looking at him.


"Some just tried to sway me with material things. Money, jewels, silks, beautiful slaves of both sexes, anything, and everything. And when that didn't work...a few tried more...aggressive tactics. I was used to people trying to...touch me by then. It was a common occurrence. But after the announcement.. they got more rough. I.. I don't know what they thought they were going to accomplish...but if it wasn't for my bodyguard.. "


Quatre didn't have to finish. They both knew what would have happened.


Trowa seethed with anger. "Where was your father during all this? Why didn't he punish them?"


"Father never believed me. He didn't believe his friends capable of such things. And that only encouraged them. And finally it got to be too much. I was so tired of fighting all of them. I was ready to surrender if it would just give me peace. My.. my bodyguard saw that, and he planned my escape." Quatre smiled. "Rashid. He helped me get away, put me on the ship that you.. raided.. He was the only person who saw me as more than a pretty face, and a body. He cared for me. Treated me like more than some passing amusement. I think he was the only one...He was more of a father to me than my own father ever was."


Trowa was furious. That his little one's own father could have been such a bastard. What had the idiot been thinking? Trowa vowed that if he ever met the man, that Sultan Winner would be meeting the end of his sword. He wasn't known for his mercy as a pirate. Just the opposite in fact. He never left survivors, and he was as bloodthirsty as they came.


So why now, was he feeling so compassionate for this small boy? Feeling like he wanted to stab the little one's father repeatedly through the heart. He shouldn't care. But, oh, how he did. He had known, from that first second, that this boy was *his*. The one he'd been unknowingly searching for...calling for. And now, at long last he had found him. He stood up quickly, and moved to the boy on the bed. All feelings of lust, and desire wiped out at the boy's tale.


Quatre was staring at his hands, and trying his damnedest not to cry. He felt the Captain settle next to him, and let out a startled shriek as he was hauled into the boy's lap. He struggled against the strong arms holding him. He didn't want Trowa.. no, the Captain.. no Trowa.. to be like all the others. He couldn't be. Not after all that. It wasn't fair.


Quatre's body shook, with the repressed sobs, and now anger. Fury at himself for being weak, and that he had been stupid enough to trust someone. Trowa's arms just held him closer, and Quatre gave up.


He slumped into the embrace. "Please," he whispered, "I can't fight anymore. If.. If you're going to.. please.. just get it over with."


Trowa squeezed him, "I just want to help you. I ask for nothing in return."


Quatre twisted in his lap, and looked up at him, confusion and wonder written on his face. "...Why..."


Trowa thought to himself, and before he even realized it.. "Because *I* care."


Quatre looked up at him stunned. The tears that had threatened to fall did. They ran hot, and salty down his face. Trowa rocked him, and let him cry his heart out onto the front of his shirt. The pirate felt the thin body shaking with the force of the sobs. He went on for sometime. Crying out all the pain, and betrayal, and heartache he felt. And finally he quieted down, only sniffling slightly.


His swollen red eyes met Trowa's. "I wish you wouldn't say such things. It will only make it harder for me, when you try to take what you think is owed to you."


Trowa set the boy down on the bed, and stood up angrily.


He leaned down and took hold of Quatre's chin. "Unlike others, I *can* contain myself. And I won't do anything to you, that you don't *specifically* ask me to."


With that, Trowa released him, and strode to the door, unlocking it, and leaving. Quatre heard it locking again, and laid down on the bed. For the first time, in a very long time, he truly smiled.


~~~~~


tbc.

{ part 2! }

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