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Because there's nothing more beautiful than the way the ocean refuses to stop kissing the shoreline, no matter how many times it's sent away. -- Sarah Kay.
In the middle of battle, Shelton gave up the title of captain to Burgie.
“Are you kidding me?!” Burgie yelled while reloading his gun.
Shelton smirked. “Consider it my dying wish.”
So, Captain Shelton, the pain in the ass of the Seven Seas, gave up command of his beloved ship, and then made a request of the new captain.
“Now, Captain Burgin.” He ran his cutlass through a body. How odd it was that the undead didn’t bleed. “I make the humble request that you marry us.”
Burgie fired his shot and glared at Shelton, seemingly not bothered by the undead soldiers and crashing waves. “You’re certifiable! This is the worst possible time!”
“Consider it my true dying wish.” He decapitated two bodies with a single slice of his blade.
Burgie shook his head before pointing his hand towards Eugene. “I hope you know what you’re setting yourself up for because no one is dying today.”
Eugene grinned, his mouth bloody from a punch. He’d never looked more beautiful, covered in seawater and sweat, a sword in hand, shirt ripped open, like the hero of a penny novelette. “Might as well.”
“Come on, Burg, I can’t marry myself.”
“Jesus Christ, fine.” Burgie drew his sword and ran it through more bodies. What was taking Flo so long to reverse that spell? “Eugene Sledge, you take Merriell Shelton though I advise against it?”
“Absolutely.”
Shelton took a step closer to Eugene.
Burgie continued. “Merriell do you do the same though Eugene can most certainly do better?”
“Aye.”
“Good.” More swordplay and another shot. “By the power invested in me, by you, you’re married. Kiss if you can manage it.”
A wave of seawater splashed over them as Shelton pulled Eugene close by the hips and they kissed. Terribly romantic, really; the water, fighting unearthly beings. Shelton would swear he heard music. Maybe it was sirens waiting for men to abandon ship, or maybe just a lovely combination of the sounds around them.
The kiss ended and they went back to the fight. God bless Eugene, he was a scientist, but phenomenal with the sword.
“Now then,” Shelton announced. “Burgie, I’ll be taking back my ship.”
*
Shelton wakes up in the middle of the night to the sound of the scratching quill against parchment paper. He rubs his eyes and reaches in the bed for his husband but finds the bed empty, cold.
Across the room, he can barely see Eugene at the desk, hunched over like a vulture, trying to savor the little lamplight that he has. Shelton rubs his eyes and huffs out a sigh. “Sun ain’t up yet.”
“I know,” Eugene replies, not looking up from his work. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t.” He stretches and yawns. “You writing stories about me again?”
Though he can only see the back of Eugene’s head, he imagines the smirk that’s on his face. “You wish.”
“I like your books,” Shelton says, scratching at his belly. “You make me sound very handsome.”
“You are very handsome and vain.” More scribbling.
The ship moves slowly through the water, eased on by a soft breeze. The wind will pick up by the morning, he’s sure of it, and they’ll be into port in a few days. They’ll resupply, Eugene will drop off his papers, his drafts, and findings, and then it would be back onto the open water.
Eugene keeps writing and Shelton rubs his face again, still bleary-eyed. “Come back to bed, Gene.”
“I’m working.”
He huffs. “You’re always working.”
“There was a lot of information on that island. I’m behind.” He writes journals and articles on wildlife and sends them to universities. Shelton had just taken him to an emerald of an island, practically untouched by people.
Shelton finally gets up from the bed and strides across the room to the desk. He puts his hands on Eugene’s bare shoulders, rubbing up and down. “You’re cold.”
“Just the sea air.”
He looks over Eugene’s shoulder at his paper. He’s drawing one of those giant tortoises, focusing on its eyes. “You’ve seen turtles before, come back to bed.” He kisses the top of his head.
Eugene finally drops the quill to look up at Shelton. The lamplight makes his eyes look dark and his hair the color of fire. “You’re a nagging wife.” He yawns.
“Watch your tongue, I’m the captain of this ship.”
Eugene snorts. “Not of the bedroom.”
Shelton takes this as a challenge and starts to poke Eugene in the ribs, eliciting a rather girlish giggle and squirm. “Alright, alright, you’re the captain.” Shelton relents and Eugene leans over to extinguish the lamp. They return to bed and Shelton is quick to tangle their limbs, trapping Eugene against him. Eugene shifts on his back until he can reach Shelton’s hair, and begins to rake his fingers through the curls. “Can we go back?” Eugene asks.
“To the island?”
“Mm. I’d like to spend more time there. I don’t think I cataloged all the birds.”
Shelton yawns. “Your devotion to science is endearing.”
“My parents called it foolish.”
“It’s why you ran off with a rogue like me.” He looks up into Eugene’s dark eyes. His pale skin looks practically blue from the moonlight. He’s ethereal, a siren; Shelton can’t believe his luck, to have such a creature in his bed, his heart.
Eugene chuckles softly, bending to kiss Shelton on the temple. “Something like that.”
Shelton will never forget the first time he saw Eugene, poking his head into Blaze’s Tavern, looking timid as a mouse, dressed prim and proper, the look of an educated, wealthy man. His mouth practically watered, and he was praying that the handsome red-headed gentlemen would be coming his way.
And sure enough, Eugene spotted Shelton across the room and made his way, sat down across from him, no invitation. “Captain Shelton?”
Shelton chuckled and gestured to the barkeep for another round of drinks. “Most people don’t remember the captain part.”
“Why is that?”
He shrugged. “Something about being too young and too handsome. People expect pirates to be filthy and old.” He leaned forward. “One might consider you brave for just waltzing in here and sitting down at the captain’s table without being asked.”
The barkeep came to the table and down the steins. Shelton nodded in thanks, and then gestured to Eugene to accept, which he did, drinking daintily as a lady. “I just want a ride.”
Another laugh. “Get yourself a carriage.”
Eugene rummaged in his bag and pulled out a map. He laid it out flat on the table and pointed to a small chain of islands far off the mainland. “No one will go here.”
Shelton looked it over. He recognized the islands, good place to bury treasure if you needed. “Nothin’ there.”
“Exactly. No people, just the plants and animals. That’s all I want to see.” There was such conviction and longing in his eyes, Shelton felt sorry for him, and he didn’t quite know why. “I’m a scientist. I want to document the wildlife.”
And thus, Eugene became a member of his crew, and now his husband. Shelton had given Eugene his mother’s ring. A pretty gold band with an emerald set in the middle meant for a wife, but even as a boy Shelton knew there would never be a wife. Their wedding night had been spent swabbing the deck of the undead bodies they spent hours fighting; Flo was now the only one permitted to read messages found in bottles or chests out loud.
Shelton reaches down for Eugene’s hand and runs his thumb around that ring. It fits perfectly, like it was always meant to rest on Eugene’s finger. “My parents would die if they knew,” he says.
“I bet they would.” Shelton chuckles. His own parents are long dead, siblings scattered to the wind, but Eugene’s parents are alive and well, set up in a nice little town somewhere in New England, a professor and an heiress.
Eugene shifts, shuffling himself downward on the bed so they’re lying side by side properly, both heads on pillows. “You know,” he begins, “I grew up by the water? Always had the ocean so close, but they never let me near it.”
“That’s a goddamn shame.” Shelton can imagine Eugene as a child, pressing his pale face up against a window trying to smell the ocean.
Eugene kisses Shelton’s collarbones, down his chest. “That’s one of the reasons I ran off with you. I didn’t care what kind of boat I was on.”
Now Shelton takes the chance to brush through Eugene’s copper hair. It glows like fire in the noonday sun and then is dark as an autumn’s forest at night. “That’s a little less romantic.”
Eugene laughs against Shelton’s skin, biting gently at the pistol tattoo on his hip. “Is it? I mean, I go and hire a pirate ship to run away from the world and study?” He looks up, still glowing blue by the moon.
He slips his hand around the back of Eugene’s neck and brings up back up the bed for a kiss. It starts slow and sweet, then becomes filthy and blazing. It doesn’t take long to get Eugene into his lap, riding him steady like the waves. Eugene grips onto Shelton’s shoulders so tightly, he knows there will be marks and scratches. He loves that; loves the physical remenants of each other left behind.
Afterward, Eugene stands at the porthole while washing himself off, staring off at the stares while Shelton lies in bed in a euphoric haze, smoking sweet tobacco from a pipe, satisfied as a cat.
“See the Pleiades from here,” Eugene remarks, eyes all starry and dreamy.
Shelton chuckles, exhaling blue smoke from his nose. “See all the constellations out here, pet.”
“Sometimes the smog from the factories covers the sky.” He finally turns from the porthole and comes back to bed, stretching out alongside Shelton’s body, so very feline himself. “I love everything about being out here.”
Another chuckle and Shelton passes the pipe. “I’d hope so.”
Eugene takes a rather long drag, rather pensive of him. “We can really go back to the island?”
The smell of smoke and sex hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the brine of the sea. The ship rocks sweetly, a lullaby. “Sure. I’ll tell Burgie in the morning. Ain’t that far off course.” He stretches and yawns, takes back the pipe. “Let’s go to sleep.”
“Is that all you care about? Sex and sleep?”
“Certainly pretty high up on the list.” He laughs. Eugene presses close again for a kiss on the mouth and then the chin.
“My next book...my next penny novel,” Eugene says, “will be set on that island. Two stranded sailors, a world of flowers and turtles. Dolphins right in the lagoon.”
“Sounds beautiful, pet.” Shelton is already starting to drift to sleep, lulled by the boat and Eugene’s Southern drawl. He remembers long and deep summers on the bayou, following his cousins and grandmother. He stretches out again, satiated as a cat.
“Merriell,” Eugene begins.
Shelton shakes his head. “Sleep. I will only answer to the siren’s call of sleep.”
The bed and the sheets shuffle as Eugene moves, smiling against Shelton’s chest and skin. “Alright, alright, Captain. You win.”
“I’ll get Burgie to change course in the morning.” He kisses the top of Eugene’s head, inhaling the sweet smell of Eugene’s hair. The boat rocks, gentle with the tide, a good omen. A man he’d live and die for warm in his bed, against his heart. Eugene mutters something, already half-asleep. Shelton closes his eyes and listens to the creaking of his ship and Eugene’s uneven breath.