Renegades, Rebels, and Rogues

All Shook Up-3

Reza had no surname—at least, not one Eduard had ever bothered to learn. A member of the crew of the Prins Nicolaas, he was nineteen years old when he and Eduard first met. His tall, thin frame was covered with wiry muscle, his skin darkened like leather from working in constant sunlight. The moment Eduard laid eyes on the young man, he wanted him.

Their first day at sea, Eduard was strolling along the deck with his wife, enjoying the weather, when he caught a glimpse of that dark skin in motion—the crewman knelt on the deck as he scrubbed the boards, his light breeches plastered to his flesh by the soapy water that swirled around him. The muscles in his arms and neck stood out like cords as he rocked with a steady motion, back and forth, pushing a large, hard-bristled brush through the cleaning water with both hands. Touching the small of Marien’s back, Eduard told her, “Go on without me, will you?”

She followed his gaze to the crewman and made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. “This is that stable hand all over again. Eduard—”

“Go.” Flashing her a rare smile, he assured her, “I’m a big boy. I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

And he did, that first day. He was content to lean back against the ship’s rail to watch the crewman at work and savor the way those damp pants pulled taut across his buttocks. Once he knew he was being watched, the young man put a little extra movement into the chore, and his driving motions excited Eduard—he could easily imagine himself laid out on the boards beneath him, feeling those taut arms framing his body as they pinned him in place, each push diving farther into him. When those thin breeches strained against that dark, firm ass, Eduard gasped and clenched his hands into fists, while his own trousers grew painfully tight around the start of a sheathed erection.

But he had promised Marien he’d be good—his indiscretions with servants back in Holland had forced them to set sail in the first place. Though theirs was an unconsummated union, he respected her as a friend, and despite the numerous lies he might tell others, he was always honest with her. He would keep his hands to himself…

For now.

When he didn’t move closer or dare to speak, the crewman glanced back as if to assure himself Eduard still watched. At that look, Eduard winked. The crewman’s eyes widened until the bright whites rimmed chocolate irises, and his full lips parted in surprise. He turned back to his chore, scrubbing harder than before, and when he moved to another spot, his pants stretched between his splayed legs. Something round and heavy like ripe fruit pressed against the seam where it threatened to split, something tempting. Eduard wanted to cup his hand beneath that hidden sac, feel the satiny skin of the crewman’s ballocks in his palms, and trail his fingers along the thick length he knew must dangle above it.

With his lower lip caught fast between his teeth, Eduard permitted himself one last, long look, then hurried to catch up with his wife.

As the days progressed, life on board settled into a routine. Eduard asked around and learned the crewman he fancied was called Reza. Still, he kept his distance, settling for hungry stares and lustful thoughts. Whenever Marien saw him looking, she’d dig a small elbow into his ribs until he turned away. “You better start thinking about just what we’re going to do when we finally land,” she nagged. “Stop thinking with the wrong head for once, will you? We’re sailing blindly into the unknown.”

“Something will present itself,” Eduard would reply. A heartbeat later, he was searching the crowded deck again for some glimpse of that dusky flesh, those tight muscles.

It seemed his interest in the crewman might be mutual. More than once, he turned to find Reza watching him, and whenever their gazes would lock for a moment, an ardent energy arched between them, sizzling Eduard’s blood and exciting his body. A week passed, a lifetime for Eduard. His bed was lonely and cold at night, and the need for another consumed him. Marien was a woman—she would never understand a man’s desires. He could only hold out against his own heart for so long before he gave in.

Late one afternoon, after the sun had begun to dip beneath the waves and cast golden ripples across the sea, Reza was at the flag station when Eduard found him. Before the crewman could turn, Eduard pressed against him, the bare back warm and strong beneath his chest. His hands smoothed over nude skin, his arms curving around Reza’s waist. His fingers trembled as they dipped beneath the sash that held the crewman’s pants in place. When he kissed the nape of Reza’s neck, he tasted sea salt and cocoa butter and a deeper, darker musk than he’d ever found in any of the lily-white men he’d been with before. An exotic musk, primal, it tickled his senses and awakened in him an animalistic urgency. He had to have this man. Now.

“Reza.”

Every muscle in the crewman’s body seemed to dissolve beneath that one word. His knees buckled, his legs trembled, and the flags slipped through his suddenly nerveless hands to fall in a rush of silk to pool at their feet. The only thing hard about him was the c**k now standing in his pants, which Eduard found when his hands eased down farther to brush over the tip of Reza’s d**k.

As Eduard grasped at his thick shaft, Reza turned to lean his head back onto a sturdy shoulder. Eduard’s tongue darted out to lick the curve of his jaw, tasting the unfamiliar flesh. Then his lips closed over the scant hair at Reza’s chin and he nipped at the crewman, his teeth tugging at Reza’s skin with tiny loving bites that made Reza gasp.

The slightest thrust of Reza’s hips shoved his erection between Eduard’s fists—that was all the encouragement Eduard needed. The man in his arms wanted release, same as he. “Yes,” the crewman sighed in Dutch. As Eduard hugged him tight against him, he said it again. “Yes.”

Eduard’s hands clenched around Reza’s d**k, massaging his c**k, as he covered the crewman’s mouth with his own, delving into the damp darkness within. Reza turned in his embrace, hands rising to cradle the face so close to his own. When the Dutchman broke away to trail kisses down the slope of Reza’s neck, the young crewman moaned in his own language. “Iya, ngewa iya, tolong!”

Eduard didn’t understand the words, but their meaning was clear; it was written out in the hands that clutched at his clothing, the mouth insistent upon his own, the weeping c**k in both his hands. He didn’t need any prompting, and Reza leaned back against the flag station; the metal shelves jostled beneath his weight, knocking signal flags to the deck as Eduard began an amorous trek down the crewman’s body. Down into the hollow of his throat, along the thin line of muscle in the center of his chest that had just begun to sprout the first tufts of kinked hair. The hands in Reza’s pants worked his erection, and as Eduard’s kisses brought him over the planes of Reza’s body and past his navel, those hands eased down the thin cotton breeches. Reza’s hard c**k, long and heavy, swung up to bump against Eduard’s chin, the foreskin already pulled back to expose the gleaming chocolate tip.

“Jesus,” Eduard sighed, more prayer than curse. “I think I’m in love.”

His hands found Reza’s c**k again, and he knelt before the crewman, his tongue angling for the ball sac that hung between Reza’s legs. When that warm, soft muscle touched him, Reza came a little—jism bubbled out of his c**k to sputter over Eduard’s hand, which began to work his length again. Reza gripped the shelves behind him as he thrust into that hand, matching the steady rhythm Eduard set. His lips rubbed over Reza’s nuts, then massaged their way up his d**k, leaving a slick trail of spit in their wake. Then they closed around the tip of his d**k, the tongue swirling around his cockhead again and again, bringing him to an explosive release.

For a moment longer, he suckled Reza’s c**k. When it began to wilt, spent, he let it fall from his lips and kissed his way back to Reza’s mouth. The crewman’s lips trembled when they kissed. Gently, Eduard pulled Reza’s breeches back up around his waist and recinched the tie that held them in place. Planting a kiss on his cheek, then on his neck, he murmured, “I’m Eduard.”

“Eh,” Reza tried, his breath still fast. “Dward. Yes.”

Strong arms wrapped around his waist in one last hug. “Will you sleep with me tonight?”

Reza only nodded in agreement. Yes.