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The day Lance was taken prisoner burned bright in the forefront of his mind; the cannon blasts, the gunfire, Shiro’s scream as Lance chopped his arm off ringing in his ears. The chest had been his, filled with gold belonging to his ancestors way back, lost in a pillage centuries earlier when his great great great grandpa McClain attempted to sail his way back to Ireland from sugar plantations in the Caribbean peninsula. It had their family crest on it and everything; Lance had thought it had been either been spent or lost to the bottom of the sea long ago, but upon catching wind of it being on Shiro’s ship, well… there’s no wonder his goal was to plunder them.
The Kerberos , Shiro’s ship, and The Supernova , Lance’s ship, had never had any particular beef before then; and yet somehow all of the rage he’d managed to build up over his family being horribly impoverished for generations channeled itself into that battle, so much so that he got careless and sloppy. He’s more than one hundred percent sure that if Shiro weren’t bleeding to death Keith would’ve killed him on the spot, but stopping the gushing of blood had taken precedent and Lance had been taken to the brig - where they were going to deal with him later.
Lance still had all of his limbs, and fingers and toes, but the most mean thing they could’ve done was take his ship and crew away from him and place him in a fucking tavern, with no weapons, no money, and means to only pay for his use of resources, which was exactly what they did. He was beached like a whale with no means to get back to his family and no one that cared enough to free him from his seemingly limitless indentured servitude.
Well… Lance thought, staring across the tavern at Keith, who was in the most private corner of the establishment with Shiro, talking about business no doubt. No one cared, but Keith.
Even still, Keith was blinded by his admiration for Shiro, who was the one that punished Lance this way in the first place, and even though Keith frequently fought with Shiro about it Keith was always the first one to relent, no doubt feeling like he was betraying Shiro for asking. Lance understood. After all, the fierceness in Keith’s eyes when Lance had removed Shiro’s arm said mountains about their relationship, staring into Lance’s irises like he was death knocking on Lance’s cabin door with his blade digging into Lance’s neck. Lance shivered as he remembered, a tingle that didn’t quite resemble fear crawling up his spine.
It probably didn’t help that The Supernova was Keith’s now. Lance couldn’t even blame him that much.
Lance just wanted to be free. Logically, he knew that Keith probably just saw him as conniving, and Lance would be lying if he said it hadn’t been that way at first. But somewhere between the start of it all and now, Lance’s empty promises in bed started to become real admissions; real things he thought and worried about. After all, pirates were infamous for being violent liars and tricksters; the fact that Keith had even tried to grant him freedom said a lot about Lance’s sincerity.
Yet, here he was, two years later with nothing to show for it. He resisted the urge to grimace as Coran called to him, waving him over to the bar so that he could deliver more drinks to the tavern goers, and Lance obliged, setting his tray down and waiting as Coran piled it up with drinks.
“Your head is in the clouds today, m’boy.” Coran observed, cheerful but concerned. Lance rested his cheek in his hand, glancing around at the rowdy pirates crowding the place. Some of them were eyeing him, but that was all they would do. They all knew he belonged to Keith, and being on Keith’s bad side was a whole other list of troubles.
“Yeah,” Lance agreed easily.
“Do you need a break?” Coran reached for the tray, but Lance was quick to snatch it, shaking his head.
“No. Thanks, though.” Of everyone that Lance had met Coran was the only person that actively cared about Lance. Unfortunately, his order of business was with pirates, so unless someone particularly drunk and wealthy was here there wasn’t much to pay Lance, and what he was paid in his tips he usually sent with Coran’s delivery boys to his family. Lance didn’t even know if they were actually sending it, but he hoped they were.
He wandered his way through the tavern, dropping pints off and trying to revel in the drunken pirates excitement, but he was too fixated on Keith, who was watching him with an expression on his face that Lance couldn’t read. He tucked the empty tray under his arm before weaving his way through the barstools to Keith and Shiro’s corner, promptly taking a seat on Keith’s lap and preening as Keith’s arms wound around his waist immediately.
“So, Shiro. When are you going to give me my chest so I can get out of here?” That was his first order of business. Shrio seemed unamused, taking a sip of the rum that Lance had served them when they’d walked in.
“You attempted to plunder my ship - I lost six crew members and an arm. I’m not giving you anything.” He set the pint down and licked his lips, and Lance rolled his eyes. “You’re lucky I didn’t maroon you somewhere.”
“At least I’d be dead.” Lance muttered, and when both Shiro and Keith gave him another unreadable look he did nothing but yawn and stand from Keith’s lap. “I have to get back to work. See you later, Keith.” He turned to twiddle his fingers at Keith flirtatiously, smirking at Shiro triumphantly when Keith landed a slap on his ass. And then he was walking away with swaying hips, going back to the bar to collect more drinks to serve.
“Do you really wish you were dead?” Keith asked later, wrapped around Lance’s naked body with Lance’s head pillowed on his neck. Lance sighed, leaning up on his elbow to look at Keith. He shook his head.
“No. Well… sometimes. But I know if I were dead I would never see my family again. At least there’s a small chance, now.” Lance placed his hand on Keith’s cheek, rubbing his thumb over the prominent cheekbone there and smiling when Keith shut his eyes. “... Keith.”
Keith’s eyes fluttered open. “Yes, love?” The butterflies in Lance’s stomach churned low. He took a deep breath, glancing down.
“I know your loyalty is to Shiro-”
“Yes. He saved my life. Multiple times.” Keith interjected immediately, already sensing the direction of the conversation.
“And I admire that. Sometimes loyalty is hard to find. Shiro’s very lucky, but…” Lance trailed off. Keith wouldn't make eye contact with him. “Are your affections for me not enough to grant my freedom?”
Keith looked pained, like Lance had just placed his fingers in a thumbscrew. “Even though I was granted with your ship Shiro is still my captain. I cannot betray him after everything he's done for me.” His voice was terse.
“I know your tragic backstory, Keith. Save it.” Lance sat up in bed, running his hands through his shaggy hair. “Just… I don't even need a ship, alright? I can manage with a dumb tiny boat and a pistol. Or my cutlass. I just want means to leave here. If I can't be out on the seas I want to be with my family. They need me.” He’d begged before, but had gotten nothing out of it. If anything, it looked like Keith was about to crack; maybe he would hook up Lance with a boat, or at least enough money for a boat ride back to the mainland. Lance’s heart ached.
“... Okay. I’ll work on it.” It came out forced, much like Keith was pulling teeth and less like he was promising something, and Lance knew it was probably as much an empty promise as the rest of them.
“That's not good enough.” Lance climbed out of bed rummaging through Keith’s things until he found the gun holster and pulling out the pistol. He released the safety and cocked it. “Get out,” he demanded.
“Lance,” Keith pleaded, “I just need time, okay? My funds get shoveled to Shiro so I don’t have anything but-” but Lance fired a warning shot into the ceiling - the bustling downstairs at the tavern quieted.
“Get out!” He shouted, keeping the gun aimed at Keith as he went to the door and began to throw Keith’s things out into the tiny hallway; his hose, his boots, his shirt, his hat. Keith scrambled giving Lance puppy dog eyes as he picked his things up.
“Lance, I’m sorry. I-”
“I’m keeping this and selling it.” He waved the gun in Keith’s face and then slammed the door shut, throwing the lock and leaning against the rickety wood. He took in a shaky breath; he could hear Keith getting redressed, hear the clunking of his boots as he made his way back downstairs to the tavern. Lance stared down at the pistol in his hand, sighing before throwing it aside and climbing back into bed, staring at the hole in the ceiling until he fell asleep.
Keith and Shiro went back out to sea the next day, again leaving Lance with nothing. This time though, Lance had the pistol, and the second he sold it he gave the money to Coran to send to his family.
God he hoped Coran was actually sending the money.
For Lance, life was monotonous. Wake up, bathe, clean and wash dishes, launder, serve, and repeat. In the morning, while everyone was still asleep with their hangovers and in bed, Lance would sit on the dock and stare into the water, and contemplate stealing one of the ships docked there.
A month had gone by before anything even remotely interesting happened. Lance felt bogged down by time, the routine of handing drinks out and bringing cups back stuck in his muscle memory for life. Coran looked a little worse for wear also, Lance’s sour mood bringing down the mood of the staff - Nyma, Plaxum, and Rolo weren’t in the highest of spirits either, with Lance looking like he’d gotten a glimpse of death that wouldn’t leave his mind’s eye. He knew he needed to get it together, but he didn’t see the point. If Coran fired him, good. He wanted out. He wanted an excuse to leave.
He was just setting drinks down for a group of particularly dirty looking pirates when a rambunctious group strolled into the tavern, one of them literally throwing pieces of eight up into the air. The entire tavern bristled and shuffled for the gold.
“Drinks on us!” Called the lanky one with the captains hat above the noise. The entire tavern cheered, except for Lance, who blinked in surprise as he was suddenly bogged down with a huge sack of eight from the short, stumpy pirate with a thick mustache.
“Rum for everyone, aight?” He chuckled, slapping Lance on the ass. Lance was ruffled; even the pirates sitting near that knew Lance’s reputation seemed offended and irritated by it, but Lance brushed it off. Obviously these new guys were good business and he wasn’t about to stir things up by getting defensive. Now wasn’t the time. He turned on his heel and went to the bar, going back to the employees quarters to hide it in the trap door there. Coran looked up from his place counting their earnings from the night so far.
“Count that, would you? They want drinks for everyone. Nyma,” the blonde glanced up from where she was picking at her fingernails, “Help out front, please?” She sighed deeply, but then hopped off her place sitting on a keg and followed Lance out to help shuffle out drinks. The tall, lanky captain was eyeing Lance from his place in the corner, hat tipped back as his eyes followed everywhere Lance went. He knew the look that the guy was giving him; plenty of people had looked at Lance the same way, including Keith, but at this point Lance wasn’t in the business of getting romantically involved with pirates. Once a pirate, always a pirate, even in relationships.
Lance thought of Keith, thought of Keith’s admittance of his attraction that first night, when he’d made Lance tremble and shiver, left marks on him, had kissed him with passion paralleled only by his love for the open ocean…
As Nyma passed him on her way to take the drinks to the captain’s table Lance knicked the tray off of her, hip checking her out of the way. “I’ll do it,” he offered loftily. Nyma didn’t question him, after all it meant less work for her, so she took Lance’s empty tray and went back to the bar. Lance swayed his way over to the captain’s table; the conversation was lively but the captain only seemed to have eyes for him, not even focused on his comrades chattering as Lance began to set their pints down.
“Never seen you guys around here,” Lance offered innocently, and a slow grin stretched across the captain’s face. He swept the hat from his head, placing it on Lance and offering him a hand, overwhelmingly cavalier. Lance adjusted the hat on his head, feeling a little bit dazed as the captain kissed his hand.
“Lotor, Captain of The Empire. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” The captain introduced, and Lance could feel his heart flutter in his chest. “And you are?”
Everyone in this bar knew who he was; a reminder not to mess with The Kerberos. A reminder that being dropped on an island with nothing to do but work to live and live to work was sometimes worse than death. “Lance,” is all he offered. Captain Lotor seemed to consider him, pulling on his hand until he was sat on the captain’s lap.
“Well, Lance, how much do I have to pay to keep your company?”
It wasn’t as though people hadn’t asked; Nyma and Plaxum did it all the time, but it had become principal for Lance to decline. It wasn’t in his job description, and even if it had been it probably would’ve been erased the moment Keith had marked Lance as his. “I don’t normally entertain those kind of services.” It was a little hard to decline, with Lotor looking at him like he was looking at a fine piece of art. Lance couldn’t remember the last time he’d been looked at like that.
It would be easy for Lance to charge Lotor a pretty penny; use it to buy a boat of his own and get the hell out of dodge, but everyone was staring at him. The tavern was quiet, eager to hear their conversation, and Lance knew the second these pirates went out to sea word would travel. He’d likely be caught for a boon before he could even get out of the harbor.
“You’d have to ask my boss. The funds go to him.” He stood from Lotor’s lap, taking the hat from his head - it felt like losing a part of himself - and started to make his way. But the captain grasped his arm, and Lance turned to see the incredulous look on his face. “The red head with the mustache. He’s hard to miss,” then Lance was pulling away from his grip so that he could get back to work.
Lance didn’t know how much Coran had charged Lotor - or perhaps, how much Lotor had offered. It must’ve been a lot, considering Coran didn’t decline, but one moment he was serving drinks and the next Coran was telling him that he was supposed to be Captain Lotor’s arm candy all night. Usually, when he sat on Keith’s lap, Keith would carry on his conversation with whatever pirate he’d been talking to, but Lotor seemed interested in him. Granted, Lance tried not to let it get to his head; he was a new face, and it was natural for the captain to want to pry into who exactly Lance was, but Lance didn’t think it was a particularly good idea to tell him the exact goings on of him staying here.
“I work here.” Is what he said, and when Lotor hadn’t seemed satisfied, he’d admitted, “Well, imprisoned more like.”
Captain Lotor didn’t ask for the details, but the gears in his head appeared to be churning, and when he offered Lance a pint of rum he accepted. Two, three pints later and Lance was drunk but dragging Lotor upstairs to his room, locking the door behind them and chewing at his lip as he watched Lotor watch him.
“Any requests?” Lance asked, slowly unbuttoning his shirt and letting it fall down his shoulders as Lotor’s eyes trailed over him, appraising.
“Tell me about yourself.” Lance shrugged his shirt back on, flustered and shocked, blushing as Lotor laughed, warm and amused. “Don’t worry about buttoning it back up. You just made me curious, is all.” He beckoned Lance over to the bed and Lance followed the instructions, not resisting as Lotor pulled him into his lap so that he was straddling his waist. “You said you’re imprisoned here.”
That wasn’t something Lance particularly wanted to talk about, but his rum addled brain couldn’t come up with any fabrications. “I plundered a ship, and lost. And so they left me here and took my ship instead of killing me,” he slurred. Lotor hummed, tender hands pushing the fabric of his shirt off of his shoulders, caressing the skin of his chest.
“That’s pretty merciful,” he observed. Lance shook his head in disagreement.
“I’d rather be dead, sometimes.” Lance fidgeted with the buttons of Lotor’s shirt, but didn’t begin to unbutton it, staring down at the fabric. “I miss the sea. I miss my cabin.” He tipped his head back, his whole upper body going back with the weight. Lotor kept him up by the small of his back, and Lance groaned, slumping back over. “My family, too. I’d just bought them a house last time I went ashore. I hope they’re okay,” he muttered. He could feel tears prick at the corners of his eyes, but surely he hadn’t drank that much rum.
“I’m sure they’re doing great.” Captain Lotor was trying to be reassuring, but it did nothing for Lance. Lotor knew almost nothing about him, or his family’s history. “Is there any chance you could leave?” Lotor asked. Lance groaned.
“Not unless Shiro relinquishes my contract. Which he hasn’t, so.” Lance buried his face into Lotor’s neck; he smelled like sea salt and dirt. He inhaled him, not even embarrassed when Lotor chuckled.
“Perhaps you should get to bed,” he insisted, maneuvering Lance until he was lying on the mattress. Lance sighed, gripping onto his arm with a pout on his lips. “Yes, poppet?”
Lance smiled. “Kiss me.” Lotor smiled in amusement, leaning over Lance to press a quick kiss to his lips. “Nooo, longer than that.” He was just whining now; he was suddenly remembering why he didn’t drink rum anymore but it was too late for that remembrance. Luckily, Captain Lotor wasn’t from around here so after he left Lance would likely never see him again and have to relive this embarrassment.
“Tomorrow, love. Get some sleep.” He placed his captain’s hat on Lance’s head, like a promise, and then unlocked the door and closed it behind him. Lance sighed, hugging the hat to his chest.
Lance hadn’t woken up with a hangover since being on his ship, and he groaned in agony as his head pulsed with dehydration. He sighed, pushing himself out of bed and wandering down the hallway; somehow he still managed to wake up before the sun was actually over the horizon, and he wobbled his way down the dock to the bathhouse, giving the woman attendant there his clothes to get them washed as he bathed, setting the clean clothes he’d brought at the side of the pool as he stepped in. He relaxed in the water, eyes lidded as he basked in his headache. The woman attendant came in to give him a towel, and he thanked her quietly, eyebrows drawing together as she fidgeted and stood there awkwardly.
“You can join me if you want.” Lance offered, offhanded. She seemed to consider it for a moment, but then the bell was ringing in the lobby and she gave him an apologetic smile before going back to work. Lance shut his eyes, relaxing into the water and eavesdropping on the conversation that the attendant was having with whoever had come in.
“Oh, no it’s quite alright. You don’t have to apologize so much.”
Lance’s eyes snapped open, and he scrambled out of the tub, wrapping the towel around his waist and running for the supply room, feet slapping on the tile as he ran and hid just in time for Captain Lotor to step in. Lance watched him from his hiding place, heaving a deep breath into his lungs. He was not ready to face him, and he definitely wasn’t ready to do it while naked, not after last night.
Embarrassing. He grimaced, but his eyes lingered as Lotor began to remove his clothes, feeling a flush rise up his chest as Lotor’s shirt dropped to the floor. And then he began to remove his hose, and Lance turned away, chewing at his lip, resisting the urge to turn back to take another peek. He dried off and got dressed, made his way through the supply room to the side exit, and ran back towards the tavern.
The day would’ve been boring, if Lance could keep his mind off of the Captain of The Empire , but it was all he was able to think about as he served breakfast, lunch, and dinner, and washed the dishes. As night fell the usual tavern-goers began to leak in, Lance steeled himself; he still had Lotor’s hat, which meant that the captain would be back and Lance wasn’t mentally ready for it. All night he was waiting, watching the door like a hawk and feeling both relieved and disappointed whenever it wasn’t the captain who strolled in. It took hours, but then finally Captain Lotor swayed in with his company, winking at Lance as he passed him by to speak to Coran at the bar. Rolo was eyeing the conversation as he handed pints over to waiting drunken pirates, glancing between the captain and Lance. Lance watched, absently listening to the pirates trying to get his attention for more booze, and he took the coin and wandered his way over to the bar, strolling up to Rolo instead and waiting for him to fill up more pints. Lotor and Coran’s conversation seemed tense, but Lance couldn’t really catch any of it. Rolo was too on top of things, placing drinks on Lance’s tray and sending him off back to serving.
Ten minutes later and Lance was being told that he was to entertain Lotor again, which made him nervous and excited. Lance chewed at his lip, carrying their tray of drinks over and setting them all in front of his company, before placing himself on Lotor’s lap.
“Still have my hat?” He asked, arms winding around Lance’s waist. Lance scooted into him, nodding sheepishly when a few of the other pirates at the table turned to look at him curiously.
“It’s upstairs,” Lance stated. Lotor pinched his sides, motioning for him to get up, and Lance did so.
“We’ll be back.” Lotor excused them from the table, and Lance felt acutely embarrassed as the entire tavern watched them disappear up the steps - now that he wasn’t drunk he could feel every single pair of eyes watching them, and once they were in his room Lance took a deep breath. “As much as I want my hat back,” Lotor smiled at him good naturedly, “I actually have something for you.” He rummaged through the bag at his side and pulled out a piece of parchment. Lance hesitated before taking it and unrolling it, eyebrows drawing together in confusion.
“A map?”
“To where my ship is docked on this island.” Lotor smiled. Lance stared at him with wide eyes. “I know this is a sudden proposition, but I couldn’t help but notice your misery. Perhaps after working with me and my crew for a while you will have enough for a good, sturdy boat, so that you can go back to your family. And you’ll be free.”
It seemed almost too good to be true, Captain Lotor handing him an out. “What do you want in return?” Lance asked, because there had to be a catch.
“Your affection.” The captain said it so simply that Lance couldn’t help but blush, glancing away in flustered embarrassment.
“You don’t know me.” It couldn’t be that easy.
“I’d like to.”
Lance rolled the map up; he didn’t have enough time to think about this. He needed more than a few hours to ponder it, to weigh the pros and cons of going on a ship whose crew he didn’t know. And all he had to do was be with Lotor? He clutched the map to his chest, eyes roving up and down the captain’s body - he thought of the bath house earlier, how he hadn’t let himself look once Lotor’s shirt was off. There was no doubt that Lotor was a beautiful and handsome man, and he was smitten for Lance in the kind of way that made Lance’s heart rabbit in his chest.
But could he leave Coran? What would happen to Coran once he left? Shiro wouldn’t do anything to Coran if Lance snuck out under his nose, would he? Then again, Shiro really only cared about his own crew and not much else...
“I would love to,” Lance started, and Lotor’s eyes gleamed, “But I don’t think I can. I just… don’t want anyone else to suffer because of my mistakes.” Lotor sighed, but nodded his head in understanding.
“You are still welcome, if you happen to change your mind.” He began to rummage through his bag again, pulling out a necklace of blue jewels that made Lance’s mouth water. “Then take this. It will not be enough for a boat, but I imagine it will provide food for quite a while, if you send it home to your family.” Lance didn’t want to accept it, it felt weird to be given charity, but he couldn’t afford not to take it, so he took it with a sigh and a nod.
“Thank you. You’ve done way more for me in two days than anyone has done for me while I’ve been here.” Lance gingerly toyed with the jewels on the necklace - they were real all right - glancing up at Lotor with a weak smile on his face. Lotor smiled back at him, walking backwards until he was sat on Lance’s mattress.
“Put it on.” A soft suggestion, which Lance eagerly took because why not. He looped it around his neck, fumbling with the hook for a moment before getting it fastened. A slow, lazy smile tugged at Lotor’s lips. “Model it for me.”
Lance felt nervous butterflies fill his stomach, turning in place as he began to unbutton his shirt, letting it fall to the floor so that the necklace was the sole centerpiece on his upper body. Lotor’s eyes raked over him, taking in every scar and muscle as Lance turned again, this time hooking his thumbs into his hose and pushing them down with his drawers, pausing with his ass facing Lotor before stepping out of them and facing the captain again, who was already reaching out for him to tug Lance closer, splaying him out on the mattress with his body and the necklace on full display. Lance felt like he couldn’t breathe.
“You’re beautiful,” Lotor whispered, staring right into Lance’s eyes. Lance swallowed thickly, pliant as Lotor’s lips placed soft kisses down his neck, hands caressing his skin as his lips nipped and sucked his way down, down, down.
Lance sucked in a breath as Lotor took his length into his mouth, fingers tangling into the sheets as Lotor licked and sucked his cock. Lance might’ve been able to act at least a little composed, if Lotor weren’t looking right up at him with storm grey - almost purple - eyes, the lewd moans he was giving vibrating through Lance’s groin and making his eyes roll back into his head.
“Fuck,” he whimpered, one of his hands going to tangle into Lotor’s hair, but as soon as the action reminded him of Keith he removed it, opting for the sheets once again. The sensation didn’t last long, because then Lotor was kissing back up his stomach again, leaving Lance’s dick pent up and on edge as he kissed Lance. Lance pushed himself up onto his elbows to kiss him back, all tongue, whining when Lotor took grip of his jaw to pull him away so that he could mark up Lance’s neck.
“Gonna leave you with something to remember me,” he muttered into Lance’s neck, and Lance felt a particularly sad tug in his gut, even as Lotor bit hard into the junction of his neck and caused Lance to cry out. He relaxed back onto the mattress, only so that he could reach down for Lotor’s belt and pants, tugging at them fruitlessly as Lotor assaulted his neck. He still didn’t relent, even though his hips lifted so that Lance could tug the belt off and push his pants and hose down, and he took hold of Lotor’s ass cheeks to prompt him into grinding their cocks together. Lotor groaned into his chest and Lance took in a deep breath, tilting his head to watch between them as Lotor gripped both of them in his hand and began to pump, grip firm.
“Oh , ” was all he was able to gasp out, feeling dumb even though Lotor gave an aborted chuckle. Lance felt just a little delirious, watching Lotor’s arm flex with each pump, and he gripped it curiously, nails digging into the skin and feeling a delicious wave roll through him as Lotor whimpered. Then he was at Lance’s neck again, and Lance took his nails to Lotor’s back experimentally, revelling in the shiver that the other man gave as he arched, rhythm stuttering before picking back up. He stopped but for a moment, feeling a close wave of heat roll through him, but not quite there yet. His nails scratched at Lotor’s back again.
“ Lance. ”
“ Fuck, ” he swore, groaning as Lotor bit another aggressive mark into his neck, and then he was coming, toes curling as bliss stole away at his limbs. A few more pumps and Lotor was coming after him, across Lance’s stomach, but Lance was too dazed to even take note or even care.
It felt like forever before he actually came back to himself, and he rubbed at his eyes as he pushed himself onto his elbow. Lotor was at his side, stroking his hair and looking at him with an amused smile. “Good morning.”
Lance looked around through sleep-tired eyes - he noticed that there wasn’t cum on him anymore, so that was a nice surprise, but he still felt dazed and lost. “Did I fall asleep?” He became acutely aware of the necklace around his neck, and his hand went up to touch the jewels absently.
“Only for about five minutes.” Lotor grinned. Lance flushed in embarrassment, but Lotor did nothing but press a kiss to his cheek. “I’m afraid I should get going. Have to take stock and rations before I leave in the morning.”
Lance suddenly felt like he was losing a piece of himself. He wondered when he’d become so desperate for a taste of something fresh and new, a taste of kindness, that he was falling for the first stranger to give him nice things. “Will you ever come back?” He didn’t want to sound like he might cry, but he did anyways. Lotor gave him a sad smile, sitting up and kissing his forehead.
“Perhaps.” He stood, rebuckling his belt and taking his hat from the nightstand. He stared down at it briefly, before placing it on Lance’s head. “Hopefully we’ll meet again. Thank you for entertaining me.” He swept into a low bow, and then exited the room, leaving Lance alone.
The sounds of the tavern below leaked through the floorboards, and Lance glanced down at his bedsheets before lying back down and curling up on his side.
He found that he felt even more empty than before.
Lance laid there for hours, staring at the wall, listening to the sounds of the tavern diminish and then die. He could hear Coran come up to his room to check on him, peeking in and then closing the door behind him and going to his own room when Lance appeared to be asleep. Lance couldn’t help but feel like he’d let something good slip through his fingers, and he debated and debated until he finally pushed himself out of bed to get dressed.
He got into his clothes, and grabbed his bag, throwing in extras and some of his other essentials, before grabbing his boots. He picked the captain’s hat up from the mattress and planted it on his head, taking the jewels from around his neck and placing them in his bag before picking up the map and slowly opening the door. It creaked quietly on its hinges, and Lance hesitated, hearing Coran’s snoring pause before it picked up again. He tiptoed his way down the steps and through the tavern, dodging the drunks that had passed out before they could leave, before he was finally home free outside. The sky was just beginning to brighten but the sun wasn’t out yet. Lance wondered when Captain Lotor was going to leave; he hoped he hadn’t yet as he slipped into his boots, unrolled the map, and began his trek across the island.
He ran for what felt like hours, his legs exhausted as he finally came to the X on the map - and there was Lotor’s ship, already having left the dock. Lance froze in terror, and then booked it again, jumping off the dock into the icy cold water, holding the hat to his head as he struggled to swim.
“Hey! Hey!” He shouted, but he’s sure that they couldn’t hear him over the splashing of water. But still he called to them, swimming with chilling limbs, the cold quickly seeping into his bones and slowing his pace. Should he give up? Swim back to shore? Admit defeat? “Hey!!”
Then a ladder was being thrown over the railing of the ship into the water. Lance breathed out a sigh of relief, and he swam his way over, gripping on and climbing his way up, feeling too relieved to feel cautious.
Except once he was on deck he was covered in a towel, the crew members running around deck in a tizzy. And there, with an arm around Lance’s shoulders, was Captain Lotor, looking at him like he’d just seen a ghost.
“Are you alright? What were you thinking?” His eyebrows were drawn together, he seemed more concerned than happy that Lance was here, but even still his hands were on Lance’s cheeks, tender and like he was holding something precious.
“I wasn’t. I just wanted to be free,” Lance admitted. Lotor sighed, a sad smile overtaking his features as he hugged Lance to his chest.
“Well,” he took the hat from Lance’s head and placed it on his own, “I guess I should put you to work, then… After giving you some dry clothes, of course.”
And then he was shouting orders at his crew, arm draped around Lance’s shoulders, leading Lance into his cabin so that they could pick out dry clothes for him.
Lance felt the ship rocking under his feet, could hear the pirate jargon being yelled over the deck by the crew members, the compass and map on the desk in the center of the cabin reminding Lance a lot like his old ship. He missed his ship, but he was almost there.
He could almost taste it.