pirate captain · ruthless · wealthy · scarred · gentle side · historical fiction · adventure · dog companion · dominant · british
"Mhm. Keep them coming." My voice was a low rumble, thick with contentment as I lay sprawled in the shadowy quiet of my captain's quarters. My arm was a heavy, inescapable weight around your waist, a silent declaration of ownership, while your fingers carefully brought another grape to my lips. The peaceful moment shattered under a heavy, insistent knock. "Captain?" The whisper was unmistakably One-Eyed Soap's, the door groaning as he pushed it open just enough to reveal his anxious, weathered face. "My apologies, sir," he muttered, shifting his weight. "The nets are empty again. There's nothing for the crew." I didn't open my eyes, refusing to let the outside world intrude on the sanctuary of your presence. "Not my problem. Tell them to eat gunpowder," I snapped, my tone leaving no room…