Snow (sweptawaybayou) wrote,

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By Snow
For sangpassionne’s au a/s ficathon
beta by stir_of_echoes and winterlive
Thank you both!


For mirasol
Personas Requested ~ Pirates
Three things you would like in your fic ~ sex, Spike having to help Angel out of a dangerous/sticky situation, cameos by other BtVS/AtS characters
Two things you would prefer not to see ~ Non-con, helpless Spike
Tone ~ Comedy, or anything other than dark
Rating pref ~ R or NC/17

Angel stood on the deck of his ship, the wind blowing through his hair catching the few loose strands from the brown bow that kept most of it tied back at the nape of his neck. He looked over his crew as they worked the masts, tugged on the gouge ropes that secured the masts on either side. He smiled as the wind caught the square-rigged sails and listened as the sea rushed noisily past the bow. Felt the pull of the wind in the billowing sails and tasted salt from the spray of the waves that crashed against the ship’s wooden sides as it moved quickly through the ocean.

He was proud of his ship, proud of his men. Despite there wasn’t one them he trusted, wasn’t one of them he did not know, some better than others, some better than they knew themselves. Angel smiled at that thought. He turned to Spike, his first mate, who was peering through a spyglass at the seemingly empty ocean behind them.

“Still there?” Angel asked.

Spike lowered the telescope and shook his head, his blonde hair ruffled by the breeze.

“No. I think we lost the bastard.”

“Good. Have the helmsmen head toward the islands. We’re due for some down time.”

“Aye, Captain.” Spike smirked at him and Angel laughed softly. He knew that Spike fancied himself a Captain, that someday he would either leave or, depending on what mood he was in, try to take Angel’s ship from him. Angel almost hoped that he would try, it was always enjoyable taking Spike’s ego down a few pegs.

“I’m going to my cabin. Let me know if anything changes.” Angel said and glanced significantly beyond Spike’s shoulder, out to the open, vast sea behind them.


Angel opened the door to his quarters, shutting it behind him and pulling the tie from his hair. He needed a drink. A slight movement and a soft moan caught his attention. Damn. He’d left the cabin boy tied up.

“Xander, Xander. Did I forget you again?” Angel walked over to one of the walls of his room where Xander was hung, suspended on the wall, a gag in his mouth, naked as the day he was born. His arms were pulled up, tied with rope to bolts screwed into the ship’s heavy beams. His legs were spread, feet on the floor, ankles tied in the same fashion. Angel was pleased to see that Xander’s cock was still hard, swollen and red. The lash marks he'd made the previous evening that marred the tanned skin across Xander’s thighs, chest and back were fading to pink, and the welts, only fond memories.

Angel pulled the gag away from Xander’s mouth, until it hung loose around his neck and kissed Xander before he could draw a breath.

“Sorry I had to leave so quickly last night. I would have liked to complete your punishment.” Angel grinned.

Xander moaned, trying to return Angel’s kisses, pleading with his lips and his eyes, but knowing better than to speak.

Angel ran a finger down the side of Xander’s face, smiling. “We’ve lost that bastard Lindsey, finally, and we’re heading for the Islands. I’m going to let you down now, let you finish your duties. We’ll pick this up again, though. Soon.”

Angel knelt to untie the knots that held Xander in place and paused as pulled at the ropes that secured Xander’s ankles, glanced up and licked his lips at the sight of Xander’s cock, hard and erect and level with his face. He leaned forward, just a touch and ran his tongue briefly up the underside of its length. Listened as Xander groaned softly, and quivered against the wood.

Angel knew the boy was aching with need. Knew that he would be in pain all day as he went about his chores, just as he knew that Xander wouldn’t dare relieve himself. He’d been trained so well that he’d rather die than touch his own cock. It would still be there for Angel this evening, and Xander’s release would be just that much more painful and sweeter for the hours he’d spent dreaming of it.

Then Angel turned away from him and headed straight for his desk, his charts and his whiskey. He bit back the profanities as he took a deep swallow of the liquor and followed his finger across the maps, actually seeing exactly how far the military ship and its’ captain had been chasing him.

He didn’t even look up as Spike came into his room, without knocking, as usual.

“Look at this, Spike. Lindsey has chased us too far. We’re going to have to stop running and sink him. I’m tired of this . . . and it will help replenish our stores.”

“Think we can?” Spike leaned over Angel’s shoulder to examine the charts spread out on Angel’s desk and arched an eyebrow as Angel glanced up at him.

Angel turned, and before Spike could react, had his first mate up against the wall. His forearm across Spike’s throat, their mouths just inches apart.

“I will not put up with your insolence, Spike. Do I think that we can take that pouff? I think even you might be able to take him.” Angel licked across Spike’s top lip, kept his eyes level with his first mate’s. “On a good day.”

Spike’s eyes sparked with anger, but he held his temper in check. He knew that Angel would only get rougher if he said a word. Although, sometimes . . . that was a good thing. But not right now. Now Spike had a plan in the works. A plan that would net him his own ship and rid him of Angel forever. So he sank into Angel’s arms, let Angel have the control he desired, the admiration he demanded. If just for this one last moment.

Angel’s hand tore at Spike’s shirt, untied his breeches and reached in to pull out Spike’s cock, squeezing it with his large hand until Spike whimpered.

“This ship is mine, Spike. These men are mine. And this,” Angel squeezed again, just to hear that sound. “This is mine too. Never forget that.”

Angel’s mouth locked on Spike’s, his tongue filling, tasting, dominating. He let go of Spike’s cock just long enough to pull his first mate’s breeches down, and pull open the cords that held his own shut.

“Put your hand on me, boy.” Angel reached for his crock of lotion. Something that some native women had made for him once, and was so surprisingly good that now he made special trips to their country whenever he was getting low. It was coconut milk and palm oil and other things Angel didn’t know about, but it made his cock slick and it made the men not cry when he fucked them, so it was worth it.

Spike dipped his fingers into it and wrapped them around Angel. Worked the lotion in until Angel was panting against him. “Oh yes, Spike. That’s very good.”

Angel’s hand was twisting and turning, pulling on Spike’s cock until he was shuddering, his other hand pinching one of Spike’s nipples between his finger and thumb. Angel pulled away, reaching down and grabbing Spike’s hips, holding him up against the wall and positioning himself. As Angel pushed in, his cock hot and hard, slowly working past the tight ring of muscle, he kissed Spike, still talking into his mouth. “You’re so beautiful, Spike. So perfect. You feel so good inside. I will never get tired of this, never get tired of you.”

Angel kept one hand on Spike’s cock, trapped between them, stroking him in time with his thrusts, with his kisses, with the rhythm of his voice. And Spike was lost, torn in two by the covetous feelings he had for Angel’s position and the need, the want he would always have just for Angel, the man.

Angel lifted Spike’s leg. Draped it loosely around his own hip as he thrust harder, deeper, he released his hold and felt Spike’s foot dig deep into the small of his back as he pumped Spike’s cock, stroking him in time with his thrusts, his kisses, with the rhythm of his voice.

Spike felt Angel grow harder inside of him, felt the heat inside when he came and joined him. Coming in Angel’s hand, over his fingers and he heard himself whispering words of endearment, sentiments he couldn’t show, wouldn’t ever tell another living soul.


Angel came out of his cabin into the bright afternoon sun, adjusting his breeches and tucking in his shirt. He didn’t need to look to know that they were stationary, anchored in a small bay, hidden from the ocean by the island’s inactive volcanoes. Most of the crew had already left the ship, the long boats gone and those that couldn’t wait had just jumped into the clear water, swimming to the shore. The island was small and deserted, perfect for pirates to hide. A retreat from the rest of the world and anyone who just might be chasing them.

Tall palm trees, heavy with coconuts, wild grapes, banana trees, bushes filled with berries and even some orange trees grew throughout the small, but dense jungle that covered the small area. Sea birds used the cliffs as nesting grounds and small mammals hid in the trees and brush. Angel knew that there would be fresh eggs and fruit for breakfast and several roasting pits that would contain wild pigs, cooking on the beach tonight.

He knew he should leave his ship, step foot on land and stretch his legs, perhaps climb a bit, drink some rum with his men, but Angel was always loathe to disembark. His ship was his baby. His favorite lover, his best friend. Angel stood on the deck, his fingers stroking the wooden rail unconsciously and watched his men cavorting on the beach and among the shallow water of the bay.

“Are you getting off?”

Angel turned towards the sound of the voice just behind him. It was Wesley, his ship’s doctor, surgeon and the only man he had ever truly trusted. Angel smiled at him, clapped Wesley on his shoulder and pulled him up beside him at the railing.

“Not yet, but with a little help . . . ?” And he laughed at the beautiful blush that rose up on Wesley’s cheeks.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” Wesley said as he avoided Angel’s gaze.

“No, but it’s just what I meant.” Angel laughed.

“You are incorrigible.” Wesley pushed his glasses back up on his nose, ducking his head and smiled, despite himself.

“No. Just in love.” Angel released Wesley from his grip, put both his hands back on the rail.

“This ship. She means everything to you, doesn’t she?” Wesley asked.

“It does. She’s mine. The only thing in the world that is totally, completely mine.” Angel put his head down and watched the water as it lapped at the sides. “The men may come and go. The crew changes incessantly. But this. Wood and iron, sails filled with the wind, the entire ocean is my playground, my world. It’s freedom, Wes. It’s real and it’s sturdy and it’s mine.”

“I understand Angel. But right now you need some time away from her, time to relax, Doctors orders." Wesley smiled. “I’ll stay aboard, I’m quite sure that it won’t be too long before certain crew members find their way back needing remedies from imbibing too much alcohol.”

Angel nodded, he knew that Wesley was right. All the boats were gone, pulled up along the beach where the tide wouldn’t carry them away, but even if one had been left for him, Angel wouldn’t have taken it. He stripped off his shirt, dropped it on the deck, kicked off his boots and dove cleanly into the crystal green water of the bay. He came up, treading water, and shook his head. He looked back at his ship, and Wesley standing on the deck, waved once, then swam toward the shore, letting the strength in his arms and legs move him quickly to the beach.


Angel spent the rest of the afternoon walking through the small jungle, eating fruit he’d pulled from the trees, letting the strong, tropical sun bake into his skin and dry his breeches. He could hear his crew as they drank and gambled with each other near the beach, but for the most part, he avoided them, preferring to spend what little time he had here alone.

He loved his life at sea, but sometimes the confines of the ship could get overwhelming and Angel relished the few private moments he could get. He found the place he always looked for when he was here, a small stream that ran down from the top of the volcano, bubbling with icy cold, clean water from some underground caves. Palm trees ringed the small clearing, providing some shade and exotic birds called to each other from the branches, complimenting the sounds of the jungle around him.

He took off his tight breeches, slung them over a rock and stepped into a deep pool, first scrubbing his skin with clean sand gathered in handfuls from the beach, then his hair. He rinsed until it hung in squeaky clean waves over his strong, broad shoulders and his body felt as though it had been completely scrubbed. Months of sweat and grime and dirt washed away. Xander gave him sponge baths, usually once a week, but there was nothing like washing in running water.

Then Angel walked back, out into the sun and lay down on a grassy patch of ground. Closing his eyes against the sun’s glare, the taste of oranges on his tongue and a contented, relaxed smile on his face as he fell asleep.


He woke to the feeling of being poked in the stomach. Hard. He rose from unconsciousness already angry. Who would dare interrupt his rest? He opened his eyes, blinked against the bright glare of the afternoon sun, and immediately wished he hadn’t. And wished fervently that the figures stood above him were nothing more that a figment of his dream. Or a nightmare.

Four men in military uniforms surrounded him. Adorned with shiny black boots, stiff collars, crisp jackets. And very long, deadly sharp swords. Pointed straight at him.

“Angel.” Another man off to his right spoke his name and Angel turned to him. This one he recognized.

“Lindsey.” Angel stood up and brushed sand and grass off of his skin, completely oblivious to the fact that he was naked.

The Military Captain stood at ease and watched Angel through his long, dark eyelashes and although he looked calm and controlled on the outside, Lindsey was practically dancing with excitement. After months at sea and many, too many futile attempts, he had finally captured the most notorious pirate on the ocean. His career was guaranteed upward movement from this coup.

“My crew?” Angel asked and Lindsey sighed. He knew that was coming first. That was one of the reasons that Angel had been so successful, for so long. He loved his men. And they loved him. That, and his devious, intelligent, scheming mind. But it was all over now.

“Your crew is safe. Gone. You’re the one we wanted. The one we paid good money to capture.”

Angel relaxed once he knew his men were safe, then the full import of Lindsey’s words hit him, “Good money?”

Lindsey nodded and moved closer to Angel. His men kept their swords leveled at Angel’s chest and stomach. Lindsey almost said the name, then stopped, held back by caution.

“Tie him.”

Angel kept his stare on Lindsey the entire time his wrists were bound behind his back. Trying to figure out just what was going on here. When he was securely restrained, Lindsey smiled.

“Spike. Your first mate. He was more than happy to sell you out for gold, his own ship, complete with crew and the knowledge that you would not be coming after him. Ever.”

Damn. Angel didn’t show any emotion on his face, but inside he was reeling. He hadn’t seen this one coming. Not at all.

Lindsey was furious with Angel’s unemotional response.

“Don’t tell me that you’re not surprised! Your own first mate? Your trusted companion for years and years has sold you out, committed a crime worse than mutiny and you act as if you’re not shocked?”

Angel shrugged, “It bothers me more that you won’t let me at least get dressed. That somehow keeping me naked seems to make you feel safer. As if clothed, I am more powerful.”

And it was hard for Angel to spit out those words. To act as if Spike’s treason meant nothing to him. But it worked, Lindsey was beyond rage now and Angel could only hope he’d pushed the Captain into giving him a quick death. That was much preferable to being taken back to prison.

But Angel was denied as Lindsey regained control of his anger and stalked off, leading the way back down to the beach.

“Bring him. Hang him on the cross for the night. We’ll set sail in the morning for home.”


It was predawn and Angel was strapped to a cross made of hastily cut down palm trees. He’d been beaten and whipped and the bark was hard and jagged. It cut into his back, his buttocks and thighs, but that didn’t bother him. He’d suffered worse. It was the betrayal of Spike and Angel’s fear of being caged like an animal. Those were the things that haunted him now. The rest of his life stretched out before him. On land. Away from his mistress, the sea, away from his lovers, his ship, his men and his freedom. A death sentence would be so much kinder.

The feel of a hand brushing against his thigh caused Angel to turn to see Lindsey stood before him in the dark. The bonfires that had been set in the dark of the evening had burned down to glowing embers as Lindsey’s men slept in the hastily erected neat, white tents. Even the guard had passed out after drinking too much rum and slept snoring on the sand. Angel watched through narrowed eyes as Lindsey walked around to face him and felt the smaller man’s hands run over his bruised and naked skin.

“Don’t feel many bites. Looks like even the mosquitoes and gnats know you’re poison.” Lindsey’s voice was soft, just a whisper. His eyes traveled greedily over Angel’s body, coming to rest on Angel’s cock, which crested out of a nest of soft black curly hair and lay along his upper thigh.

“If I’m such poison, then kill me. So I can’t infect anyone else.”

Lindsey laughed softly, “Never. I could never kill you. But this,” Lindsey ducked his head, bent over, stroked his tongue up Angel’s soft cock. “This I can do.” Then Lindsey sucked it into his mouth, took him deep and despite himself, Angel felt his cock begin to harden, felt his heart quicken, blood flowing to his groin. He couldn’t move away, couldn’t move toward Lindsey’s hot mouth, his tight lips. The wet tongue that swirled and dipped and the slight scrape of teeth made him slam his head back into the hard palm wood until he saw constellations that didn’t belong in the tropical sky.

Lindsey licked and sucked and nibbled at the tip of Angel’s cock, held Angel’s hips in his palms, then moved one hand down, to pull at his balls, squeeze them until he was rewarded with a soft hiss and a quiet moan from Angel. Lindsey stopped, pulled at Angel’s cock, using the spit and precome that dripped down to lubricate his hand, and quicken his movements.

“Beg me to set you free, Angel. If it’s pretty enough, I just might do it. Come on, beg me. Plead with me. Say please.”

Angel looked down at Lindsey, his eyes glazed with lust and anger.


“That’s too bad. Because you will” Lindsey smirked, smug and sure in his confidence. “By the time we reach the mainland. You’ll be begging me every hour, every minute. But it’ll be too late. Now’s your only chance, Angel. Now is the time.” Lindsey kept up the pressure with his hand, then bent down and added his mouth again, humming as he deep throated Angel, swallowing when Angel’s cock bumped the back of his throat. And Angel was coming, with quiet grunts and huffing breaths and Lindsey was drinking it down like the finest vintage wine. Lindsey straightened up, licking his fingers, “I will hear you beg, Angel. Soon.”

Then Angel was alone again, with the purple sky, the clouds rolling in the distance and he could tell dawn was approaching.

There was the touch of hands on his legs again and Angel sighed, “I’m not going to beg, Lindsey. Fuck off.”

“Shut up, it’s me.”

Angel didn’t know what shocked him more, the cold of the steel blade that pressed up against the heat of his skin as it cut through the leather bonds that held him captive. Or the face that appeared before him and the voice that could only belong to Spike.

“Come on, then. You’re free.”

Angel turned to his first mate, saw the carved cheekbones, the blonde hair and the flash of his blue eyes in the dim light from the moon and hit him. Spike fell to the sand, then looked up, rubbing his jaw.

“This is the thanks I get? For saving your sorry life?”

“No,” Angel shook his head, held out his hand and pulled Spike back up. “That’s what you get for putting me in this position.”

“Maybe I should just leave you here.” Spike smirked.

“Maybe you should. Why did you come back?”

“Wesley. Wouldn’t let me go without you. Your doctor can be very demanding and downright rude when he wants to be. And he never shuts up.”

“True. Which is why he’s the only one among you I trust,” Angel laughed.

“And Xander wouldn’t stop crying. The boy was getting on my nerves.”

“So why didn’t you just throw them overboard? Merciless and quick.” Angel asked, watching Spike’s face closely.

Spike looked at him, the smirk completely gone.

“Me, Angel. All right? Happy now? I couldn’t leave you here. I couldn’t leave you to him.”

Angel smiled, reached out and traced Spike’s lips gently with the tips of his fingers, “That’s good to know, Spike. I was having a hard time believing that you could betray me with that trash. Mutiny? That I could take. Theft? Fine. I’d just chase after you. But not this.”

Spike nodded, almost falling into Angel’s arms, but the swiftly approaching day and the fact that they were standing, surrounded by the sleeping enemy held him back.

“Shall we?” Spike gestured to the jungle behind them and Angel’s smile widened.

“After you, mate.”

Then they were off, Angel following Spike though the jungle to the other side of the island where his ship, his freedom lay basking in the waves, sails unfurled, ready to spirit him across the ocean.

He knew he would find Lindsey again someday. Find him and make him pay for everything.


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