"Well, look who's getting all domestic and shit," came a voice from the doorway.
Emil didn't need to look up to know it was Gilo. The skinny sailor leaned against the frame, hair still damp from whatever water he'd managed to hoard for washing. His shirt hung open loosely.
"Damn, baker boy. The way you work that dough..." Gilo made an obscene gesture with his hand. "Got me thinking things."
Emil kept working the dough, pressing harder than necessary.
Gilo hopped onto the table beside Emil's workspace, swinging his legs. "You know you're one lucky motherfucker, right?" He grabbed a pinch of flour and flicked it at Emil. "Got the biggest badass on the ship as your BFF."
Emil looked up now, hands still moving in the dough.
"For real," Gilo continued. "If Amari wasn't looking out for you..." he whistled low. "Shit, the things I'd do to that ass. And I'm like, the nice one around here."
He leaned closer. "Some of these guys? They'd have you bent over before you could say 'please stop.' Just saying."
The door to the galley opened again. First Mate Keller stood there, his scarred face expressionless.
"Captain wants you," he said, eyes fixed on Emil. "His quarters. Now."
Emil wiped his flour-covered hands on his apron. His heart beat faster at the words. This was only the second time Winston had summoned him, but already his body responded with anticipation.
Gilo's smile widened as he watched Emil remove his apron. "Teacher's pet," he muttered. "Or should I say, captain's bitch?"
Emil left the galley without responding, hearing Gilo's laugh behind him as the door closed.
* * *
Emil knocked on the captain's door, his pulse quickening with each moment of silence that followed. The corridor around him remained empty, most of the crew occupied with morning duties on deck.
"Enter," came Winston's voice from inside, low and measured.
Emil opened the door and stepped into the room. Light in the captain's quarters was soft and still. A single lantern on the wall lit the space with a low yellow glow. The air felt warmer than the corridor, quiet in a way that made each breath sound louder.
Winston leaned against the wall across from him, still mostly dressed—a loose white shirt unbuttoned to the middle, black underpants visible beneath it. His legs were bare, the muscles in his thighs relaxed. His cock rested thick against the side of his briefs, unmoved. The key hung from its chain around his neck, resting against his chest.
"Close the door," Winston said.
Emil obeyed, securing the latch behind him.
"Remove your clothes."
Emil undressed without hesitation. He folded each item and placed them in a neat pile beside the door. When he finished, he stood in the center of the room, fully naked. His hands moved instinctively to cover his groin. His back was straight. His chest rose quickly from excitement.
Winston watched him without speaking for a moment.
"Your breath is fast," He said finally.
Emil didn't reply.
"Slow it down."
Winston stepped forward once. His shirt moved with him, loose around his hips. He placed one hand on Emil's shoulder, flat and warm. Then he slid it lightly down the arm to the inside of the wrist, where the skin was smooth and soft.
"In for four," he said, low. "Out for six. Through your nose."
Emil nodded. His lips parted, then closed. His eyes were slightly down.
He took a slow breath, pulled through his nose. His ribs expanded. The muscles under his chest moved gently outward. His cock twitched again—just from being seen.
"On your knees," Winston instructed. "Back straight."
Emil sank to his knees before Winston, keeping his spine erect, head level, arms at his sides. The wooden floor pressed hard against his kneecaps. His cock stood at attention, pointing forward.
Winston circled him slowly, boots making no sound on the boards. His hand brushed once along Emil's bare shoulder. "Again," he commanded.
Emil breathed in through his nose. Four counts. Held for two. Released for six. His shoulder blades moved with each breath, precise and measured.
Winston came to stand before him. "Today we work on breath. Control comes from knowing when to take it... and when to surrender it."
He placed his hands on either side of Emil's neck. The touch was light at first, thumbs resting against the front of Emil's throat, fingers spread along the sides.
"Eyes on mine," Winston said. "Don't look away."
The pressure increased gradually. Winston's fingers pressed into the sides of Emil's neck, targeting the blood vessels there rather than the airway. Emil's pulse throbbed against the pressure. His eyes widened slightly, but remained fixed on Winston's as instructed.
The sensation was strange and unsettling. Blood flow to his head reduced, creating a lightness that spread from his temples downward. His lips parted involuntarily as the pressure continued.
Just as spots began to appear at the edges of Emil's vision, Winston released his grip. Blood rushed back, sending a wave of warmth cascading through Emil's body. His cock jumped visibly, hardening further without being touched. A small sound escaped his throat.
"Good," Winston said. He guided Emil to a thick rug near the center of the room. "Lie on your back."
Emil lowered himself onto the rug. The wool fibers pressed into his skin with rough texture. Winston positioned himself over Emil, sitting on his lower abdomen. The weight pressed Emil into the floor, immobilizing him. Winston's knees rested on either side of Emil's ribs, thighs tight against his body.
"Hands behind your back," Winston ordered.
Emil complied, sliding his arms under his body, wrists crossing at the small of his back. The position pushed his chest upward, making his breathing more visible.
Winston reached for a length of rope beside the rug. With practiced efficiency, he bound Emil's wrists, the knots secure and firm.
Winston's hands returned to Emil's throat. This time, they settled higher, thumbs pressing directly on his windpipe while fingers dug into the sides of his neck.
"Breathe," Winston commanded.
Emil tried, but the pressure made it difficult. His inhalation was shallow, restricted by Winston's grip. His heart hammered harder, sending blood pounding in his ears. The lightness returned, stronger now, spreading downward through his chest and limbs.
Winston watched Emil's face intently, gauging his reaction with clinical precision. When Emil's eyelids began to flutter, he released the pressure completely.
Air rushed into Emil's lungs in a desperate gasp. His back arched involuntarily, pushing his stomach against Winston's weight. The sudden influx of oxygen sent another wave of euphoria through his body, more intense than before. His cock strained upward, leaking a clear drop onto his stomach.
Winston shifted his position, moving backward until he sat directly on Emil's hard cock, separated only by the fabric of his underwear. The pressure and friction made Emil moan softly.
"Feel that?" Winston asked, his voice deeper than before. "Your body responds to the edge."
He leaned forward, hands returning to Emil's throat. This time, the pressure was immediate and firm. "Surrender."
The restriction was severe. Emil's vision began to darken around the edges almost immediately. His body tensed beneath Winston, neck straining against the grip. The pressure in his head built rapidly, a rush of sensation that bordered on panic yet contained something deeper—a surrender that sent waves of pleasure through his oxygen-deprived body.
Just as darkness threatened to swallow his vision completely, Winston released him again. The rush back was overwhelming—Emil's entire body shuddered with the force of it. His cock throbbed painfully beneath Winston's weight, harder than he could remember ever being.
Winston stood, leaving Emil gasping on the rug. "Get up," he ordered. "There's more."
Winston stood from his chair. "Get up."
Emil rose to his feet, his bound wrists still behind his back. Winston approached the large basin by the window where seawater filled it halfway, gleaming silver in the dim light. The scar that ran from his left eyebrow up into his black hair stood out prominently in the dim light.
"Kneel," Winston ordered.
Emil dropped to his knees beside the basin as the water surface rippled gently with the motion of the ship. Winston positioned himself behind Emil, one large, rough hand gripping the back of his neck, avoiding his hair, while the other steadied his shoulder with a firm and purposeful touch.
"Exhale as you go down," he instructed.
Winston pushed his head downward and Emil's face broke the water surface. The cold shocked his heated skin, sending a jolt through his spine as salt stung his eyes and water filled his ears.
"One," Winston began counting, his voice low. "Two. Three."
Emil held his breath while his chest tightened and the hand on his neck remained firm.
"Four. Five. Six. Seven."
His lungs burned and his shoulders tensed against his restraints until Winston pulled him up. Emil gasped, water streaming down his face and chest as air rushed into his lungs and his cock jerked between his legs, still fully hard.
Emil took several deep breaths while his heart hammered against his ribs.
"Again," Winston said.
Winston pushed his head back under and this time counted slower. "One... two... three..."
The pressure in Emil's lungs built faster as his body remembered the previous deprivation, the urge to breathe coming sooner while his wrists strained against the rope.
"Seven... eight... nine... ten."
When Winston finally pulled him up, Emil gasped violently with water spraying from his lips and his wet hair plastered against his forehead. His entire body trembled as pleasure surged through him.
Winston untied the rope around Emil's wrists. "Stand."
Emil rose unsteadily as Winston gripped his arm and pulled him across the room, pushing him against the wall with sudden force. The captain's body pressed against Emil's, touching from chest to thighs while the fabric of Winston's open shirt rubbed against Emil's wet skin. Winston's piercing blue eyes stared at him from inches away, dark eyebrows furrowing over the scar that crossed his left brow, and his boxer briefs grew damp from the water on Emil's body.
Winston's forearm pressed across Emil's throat with a pressure that felt more primal than before as Emil's back pressed hard against the wooden wall. Winston's hips began to move, grinding against Emil's naked form, his erection large and impressive even through the fabric as it pressed against Emil's thigh through the damp boxer briefs. Their faces were inches apart and Winston's breath came faster.
"I could just take you now," Winston whispered, his voice deep.
Emil's vision darkened around the edges while his pulse thundered in his ears, the pressure on his throat increasing as Winston's body moved against his in a steady thrusting rhythm. When Winston released his throat, Emil slumped forward, barely staying on his feet as his lungs heaved for air.
Winston stepped back and moved to his chair, sitting down with his black hair wet and stuck to his forehead, emphasizing the sharp lines of his jawline. His boxer briefs clung to his erection, wet from the water on Emil's body, with a darker spot of moisture showing at the tip.
Emil dropped to his knees before Winston with his vision still swimming and his back arching to raise his ass slightly.
"Please..." Emil's voice trembled, his body quivering.
"Please what?" Winston's voice had deepened.
"Let me suck you... I need it..."
Winston looked down at him and slowly pulled off the wet boxer briefs. His cock sprang free, long and thick with a slight upward curve, prominent veins running along its length, and a large, clear drop glistening at the tip.
"Just the drop," Winston said.
Emil leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on the head of Winston's cock. A small smile spread on Winston's face as he looked down at Emil, then he brushed a wet curl from Emil's forehead. Emil's tongue moved slowly as he tasted the drop while maintaining eye contact with Winston, savoring the flavor that spread across his tongue.
"Please," said Emil again. " I need more..."
Winston's cock twitched before him as his breathing quickened and his pupils dilated, then he gripped the back of Emil's neck.
"Not today," he said. "Not yet."
Winston released his hold, leaving Emil's neck bearing clear marks—fingerprints along the sides and a broad strip across the front where Winston's arm had pressed.
"Get dressed," Winston said.
Emil rose and dressed slowly as the fabric of his shirt brushed against the marks on his neck. Winston pulled on a fresh pair of boxer briefs and adjusted his open shirt while the soft light fell on his straight, prominent nose, highlighting the sharp features of his face.
"Next time," he said quietly, " we'll.. progress."
Emil nodded and moved to the door with his body still trembling slightly and the marks on his neck standing out clearly against his pale skin.
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