Graffiti

He backed Hook to the large ornate four poster, sat him, still blindfolded, on the edge, and pulled off his bucket boots and breeches. He then removed his own clothes. Hook was motionless, his mouth slightly open, as if in shock.

"James" he said, still flinching from the word. He sat on the man's lap and pushed him gently back onto the bed. Lucius's cock had been hard since Hook had kissed him, and now it was frustrated and angry. It needed release. Hook's hair splayed out on the bed behind him, and Lucius was sitting on his pelvis, he could feel Hook's cock twitch between his buttocks, and he grinned. He took Hooks left hand and put it on his own hardness. Hook flinched and took his hand away, and Lucius frowned, then to his delight he saw Hook remove his blindfold and quickly return his hand to his cock. 

"Need to see" he murmured, "Never seen…" He looked at Lucius, tanned and all muscles, shimmering with sweat like steely sunshine, His blond hair loose and spread over his shoulders. "Davy Jones, but …you are ……..beautiful?" his voice fell over the words. He'd never complimented a man for anything other than his drinking or killing prowess before. 

This blond tiger with the mocking eyes who had torn his world apart. But Lucius WAS beautiful, he was too ethereal, too damned magical to be called handsome. His hand, on Lucius's cock moved gently up and down, at least, thought Hook, this is something I know I can do…gratified, he saw Lucius's eyes close and his teeth bite his bottom lip.

"mmm…"..he moaned, and James looked in wonder at the joy he created. "I want you to fuck me James" he moaned and for a second Lucius forgot that it was another James and another life. He'd said all this before.. He forced himself back to the enjoyable present. 

Hook was looking worried, but he didn’t stop working Lucius. 

"Show me." Said Hook. Lucius rolled off Hook's legs and noted that the flag pole was now at the top of the mast again, kissed it briefly and turned round, on his knees, presenting his arse to Hook. 

Hook surged forward and grasped Lucius, clutching his arm around the narrow waist, glad to be a participant at last, so eager to get his hand on the golden flesh, but not knowing the way. He heard Lucius mutter something, and then heard him say clearly. 

"I'm ready, James, fuck me."

Lucius felt Hook hesitate, and to reassure him he said, "slowly then man if you must, but touch me, I'm not made of glass". With wonderment, Hook ran his fingers over the golden body, the broad shoulders, the tapering hips, the slightly downy arse cheeks, so firm, and muscled. Hooks erection was screaming at him, and he suddenly knew what he had to do and fast. He plunged towards Lucius and Lucius felt him tear into him, ah so very good, so hot and fiery and hard. "Yesssssss James, fuck me fuck me fuck me…" Lucius could stand any amount of pain and pain and sex were always one with him. Hook was leaning his head back and pulling Lucius towards him with every thrust of his own, their bodies slapping together, Hook grunting and Lucius panting in ecstasy as his prostate was battered and beaten with Hook's wonderful weapon. He felt a pain at his hip and realised that the hook was embedded in him, but the pain was adding to the screaming sensation in his loins.

Blood trickled from the tip of the hook but neither man noted it, both lost in the sensation of the other. "Take…my ..cock.." panted Lucius in rhythm. Hook fell forward onto Lucius back and grabbed him, and started to fist him in glorious syncopation to the fucking he was getting. Lucius felt pain at his hip increase and with it - heat and fire, he was coming… coming

"I want to mischief you, Lucius - show me the madness of this." Hooks voice was exultant, and glorious, and they came together, black and gold.

As sunlight crept into the cabin, Hook was looking at the sleeping Lucius as he lay on his back in the sun - the morning rays turned the skin molten and his hair to white fire. As he had gazed at a cocky boy in sleep once, his evil heart was stirred, for he loved beauty - did he not love flowers? Stories tell of this famous fact. This man was beauty and had given him beauty, and now he must leave him to return to a life of murder and horror on the seas with men no worse than rabid dogs.

He leant forward and did, what he had longed to do with Pan, but had been steeled against in his rage and lust to kill. Gently, in the skin, he traced the letters J H, on the man's chest.

They would never forget him now.