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Lord Rodney McKay stood at the bow of the ship and looked out across the endless expanse of the Caribbean Sea. It'd been weeks since they'd left England, and he still couldn't believe that his father had banished him to the New World. And for what reason? Because he'd lost a bit of money at games of chance? Please. It'd been his money to do with as he wished, so what did it matter to his father if he'd lost it at gaming? All the young scions of respectable families gamed. It was the expected thing. And besides, it hadn't even been that much.

Well, the sum he'd received from his Great-Aunt Elizabeth hadn't been that much, to be sure. Only a few hundred guineas. Negligible even by his father's parsimonious standards. When he'd lost it at Piquet, it'd hardly been noticed. The inheritance he'd received from his doting Grandmother had been far more substantial; even Rodney had to admit that. Still, it was hardly his fault that the horse he'd backed had gone lame mere feet from the finish line.

But it had been the lost of the small fortune he'd inherited from his mother that had been the final straw that broke his father's patience. He'd been cheated, he just knew it. It was impossible to think that Lord Kavanagh would turn up a card higher than his Queen, but he had, damn him, and in that one awful moment, Rodney had lost nearly five thousand guineas.

When his father had learned of his loss, which he had in short order, of course - damned gossips - he'd given Rodney two choices. Go to work as a clerk for his shipping company or take over running the sugar plantation on the island he owned in the Caribbean.

There had really been no choice. The humiliation of working as a mere clerk in London would have been too great to bear, and so now here he was, on a cramped, smelly ship, with horrible, smelly men, on his way to a horrible smelly plantation thousands of miles away from anything resembling civilization.

It was enough to make a grown man weep, but Rodney was made of sterner stuff than that. He would suffer through. After all, his father was an old man and couldn't live forever, could he? And as soon as word reached Rodney that the old tyrant was dead, he'd board the first ship he could commandeer and return to the blessed, green shores of England.

He was startled out of his musings by the loud cry of, "Ship, ahoy!" Turning around, he watched the horrible, smelly sailors bouncing around on the ship's rigging like so many trained monkeys. He shaded his eyes and peered into the distance, trying to make out the ship that was just visible on the horizon. He was indifferent to the ship's appearance until he heard the sailor perched in the crow's nest call out, "Pirates!"

Rodney felt his mouth go dry and his heart begin to pound. No, this could not be happening to him. He was too young to be killed by bloodthirsty pirates. He was only thirty-eight, after all. A mere lad. He hadn't even graced the world yet with his progeny. And wouldn't that just serve his father right if he were killed before he could present the old bastard with fat grandchildren to dandle on his bony, arthritic knees.

"Milord Rodney!" the captain called. "Milord!"

Rodney turned his attention away from the pirate ship to see the overdressed old goat that his father had hired to take his most precious commodity – and Rodney didn't mean himself, but rather a machine that was supposed to make the harvesting of sugar cane more profitable – to the horrible, smelly island where Rodney was to be exiled hurrying over to him.

"Milord," the old goat baaed. "You must get yourself below decks. We will try to outrun the blackguards, but you will be safer in your cabin."

"Yes, yes, fine," Rodney groused. "But do your best to outrun them, will you, Captain? I have no desire to walk the plank or suffer whatever other nasty form of death pirates are using on innocent people these days. Toss that blasted heavy machine overboard if it'll make the ship go faster."

The Captain look horrified at the very thought and Rodney sighed in resignation. He was a dead man.

***

The fighting wasn't going well. Even from the refuge of his cabin, he could hear the sounds of swords clashing and men crying out. Rodney would never admit it, but he was truly terrified. What chance had he against the murderous scoundrels that plied the seas in search of booty? He didn't even have a fortune anymore with which to bribe the rogues.

He was curled into a corner of his cabin – most unmanly, he was man enough to admit – when his door was broken down and a young man with café au lait skin burst into the cabin.

"Well, well, what have we here?" the young man grinned, pointing a rather vicious-looking saber in Rodney's direction. He stepped away from the door and indicated the open doorway with the point of the sword.

"Out you go," he said. "The Captain will want to meet you."

"Yes," Rodney squeaked, and then cleared his throat. "Yes, well if it's all the same to you, I'd rather remain here."

White teeth flashed, and the young man advanced on Rodney. Discretion being the better part of valor, Rodney skipped around him and scurried out of the cabin. More pirates were going through the other cabins, tossing out belongings and laughing as if they were in a tavern rather than ransacking a ship to which they had no right. Rodney thought of giving them a piece of his mind, but the flat of the young pirate's blade smacking against his buttocks reminded him of his predicament. With a startled yelp, he clambered up the ladder to the main deck.

The sight of the horrible, smelly sailors on their knees in surrender on the ship's deck caused him to stop dead in his tracks for a second until his captor gave him a not very polite shove. He stumbled forward and bounced off the rather solid back of a tall, lithe man dress all in black. The man whipped around, sword to the ready, and Rodney jumped back with a tiny squeak of alarm. Rodney found himself staring into one of the most handsome faces he had ever seen topped by the most ridiculous head of hair he had ever seen. He swallowed nervously.

The man grinned in sardonic amusement and said, "What have we here, Ford?"

"Found him hiding in his cabin, Captain."

"I was not hiding!" Rodney said indignantly. At the raised eyebrow on the too knowing face, he amended. "All right, I was hiding, but I was following the Captain's orders."

The pirate captain smirked. "You like to obey Captain's orders? I can work with that."

"What!?"

The pirate captain ignored him and said to the young pirate he'd identified as Ford, "Take him over to the Pegasus and lock him in my cabin. I'll decide what to do with him later."

"Aye, Captain," the young villain said, and prodded Rodney again with the point of his sword.

"Wait," Rodney called to the pirate captain who had turned away from him.

The pirate captain turned back and said to Ford, "If he gives you any trouble, throw him overboard."

"What!?"

Ford laughed and pushed at Rodney's back. Rodney obeyed with alacrity, too terrified of the pirate captain's orders to even think of disobeying.

***

He'd been locked in the cabin for what seemed like ages. Long enough that he was beginning to wonder if maybe it wouldn't be a good idea to try to escape while he was alone. Maybe he could find a way back onto his father's ship. Surely after they'd picked it clean, they'd allow the ship to go on its way unharmed. The pirate captain was a scoundrel to be sure, but he didn't look unnecessarily cruel.

Rodney had just gotten the small porthole open and was trying to push his wide shoulders through it when the cabin door opened and a mocking voice said, "While having your arse at such a ready position is appealing, I'd prefer it if you didn't block the airflow."

Rodney gasped and drew back from the tiny window. "I...I was just trying to get some fresh air," he lied.

"Sure you were," the pirate captain said with a smirk. Walking into the cabin, he closed the door and Rodney heard a click as the lock slid home. The pirate captain eyed Rodney with a slow perusal and when he reached Rodney's face, he asked, "What's your name?"

"Lord Rodney McKay," Rodney answered, lifting his chin proudly.

"McKay, huh? You own that vessel we just plundered?" the pirate captain asked.

"My father does, and he'll gladly pay a ransom for my safe return," Rodney answered, lying through his teeth. The pirate captain gazed at him appraisingly as if calculating just how much gold Rodney would bring and then walked over to a chest, opened it, and took out a bottle. Grasping the cork with his teeth, he pulled in out, spit it onto the table, and put the bottle to his mouth drinking deeply and allowing the rum to spill from his mouth and dribble down his chin.

"Oh, now that's attractive," Rodney sneered.

The pirate captain lowered the bottle, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and looked at Rodney with one eyebrow raised. "You find men attractive, Rodney?"

"No!" Rodney gasped. "That isn't what I said!"

The pirate captain just grinned and put the bottle down on the table. "I think you're lying to me. Shall I prove it?"

"What!?"

The man began to walk toward Rodney, only it was more like he was a cat stalking prey than a man walking. Rodney tried to back up, but he was already up against the wall of the cabin and had nowhere to go.

"Wait, wait," he cried out desperately. "What are you doing?"

By now the pirate captain had reached him and braced his hands on either side of Rodney's head, effectively trapping him. He leaned in and ran his nose up Rodney's neck to his ear where he puffed a little breath causing a thrill to flow down Rodney's body straight to his cock.

"You bathe," the pirate captain murmured, taking Rodney's earlobe between his teeth and nibbling gently.

"Yes, of course," Rodney said breathlessly. This couldn't be happening to him. He was not being seduced by a handsome, bloodthirsty pirate captain. Things like that just didn't happen to Lord Rodney McKay, not even in his fantasies.

"Good," the man said, drawing his lips along Rodney's jaw and hovering just over Rodney's mouth. "I prefer my lovers to be clean." Rodney opened his mouth to protest that he was most definitely not going to be the pirate captain's lover when his mouth was taken captive by the pirate captain's mouth.

He put his hands up to push the pirate captain away, but instead he found himself clutching at the pirate captain's jerkin pulling him closer and thrusting his own tongue against the pirate captain's tongue. The pirate captain tasted like rum, and Rodney decided that it was his new favorite spirit. He heard a low, needy moan and realized it was coming from him.

The pirate captain pulled back, and Rodney saw with satisfaction that the pirate captain's hazel eyes were now nearly black with desire. He stepped away from Rodney, much to Rodney's disappointment, but it was only to strip off his jerkin and to reach down to grasp the hem of his shirt and pull it over his head. When his head popped free - and how was it possible that pulling his shirt over his head hadn't displaced that strange, spiky hairdo the pirate captain was sporting? – the pirate captain said, "Take your clothes off, Rodney."

Rodney swallowed and began to obey, but then he stopped and said, "Wait just a minute. I'm not going to take my clothes off. You’re a pirate. Plus, I don't even know your name. I can't keep thinking of you as 'the pirate captain' while we're having sex."

The pirate captain slipped his hand behind Rodney's head and pulled him into another heated kiss. When Rodney was sufficiently incoherent with lust, he pulled back and growled, "I'm a privateer, not a pirate. And my name is John Sheppard. Now, for the love of God, Rodney, get your clothes off."

This time, Rodney quickly stripped off his clothes and the two naked men fell onto the captain's narrow cot. Rodney wrapped his legs around the other man's waist and thrust up, rubbing his hard aching cock against the pirate captain's – no, John's - cock, and, oh, sweet Jesus, but it felt so good. Rodney heard himself whimpering into John's mouth as they kissed and rubbed and licked and touched and bit and kissed some more and Rodney felt himself begin to fly apart into a million pieces as he climaxed. John followed after only a few more thrusts and then collapsed on top of Rodney, gasping for breath.

When he'd rested for a few minutes, he rolled off Rodney and lay beside him staring up at the rafters that made up the roof of the cabin and said, "Okay, I was going to ransom you back to your father, but I've changed my mind."

"You have?" Rodney asked nervously. "I'm sure my father would be willing to give you something for me."

John turned his head and looked at Rodney. "Your father doesn't have enough money, Rodney; not even if he were the richest man in the world. You're mine now. Get used to the idea."

Rodney rolled over onto his side and looked into the unsmiling face of Pirate Captain John Sheppard. "Really?"

John nodded brusquely and pulled Rodney's head down for another kiss. "Really," he said firmly. "I'm sorry, Rodney, but my decision is final. You're never going to see your father again."

Rodney looked into John's face and saw the resoluteness there. Dropping his head down, he gave his pirate captain lover a quick kiss and said with a smile, "I can live with that."


The end.