A Stolen Pleasure 0109.28

Laying awake in the now warm and still bed, Crowe looked up at the ceiling overhead. He stared for a long time until blinking sent a hot tear down each cheek to puddle in his oversized ears. Inhaling quickly he sighs, listening to the low droning snore of the Captain beside him. It's over for now. Once again the holder of his fate and leash sleeps the deep sleep of one suitably drunk and pleasured.

Crowe slowly slips from the bed, stealth is his birthright, so leaving the bed is a simple task. Captain Bullet is not one to want to hold him close after coupling. As soon as he has shot his load, Crowe is usually dismissed to the floor, or on rare occasions, allowed to stay to provide warmth on the colder nights. Tonight was warmer than most, and the Dramboie was flowing well, so the Captain was soon snuggled in his dreams of greed, forgetting to evict the worn elf.

Gathering his boots, and waiting until he is outside the chambers to put them on again, he breathes easy, but not deeply once he is alone in the smelly depths of the below deck corridor. More loud snores rumble from the Crew's bunks, and only a pale lantern glows from the Galley. He ignores the thought of satiating a nagging hunger. He is never fed as well as the rest of the crew, but he manages to not starve with cunning and other methods. Something else is on his mind that night, and with the stealth of a cat, he makes his way to the upper deck of the ship, and peers around in the near blackness of the night.

The creek of timber, and ropes mingles with the gentle slap of the waves on the side of the ship. He spies the mate on duty, watching over the wheel and the route the ship takes this night. Grabbing a hank of rope from near the hatch, he slinks to the back of the ship, and then sits down on the stern, his feet dangling over the side idly. Crowe pauses to look up at the Moon overhead. Wondering what it sees this night. What occurs where he is now is pretty dull, what does the moon see on the other side of the sea? What does it see in his homeland so far away.

Blinking out of the daydream, Crowe prepares for his clandestine mission, and rising to his feet, he strips his clothes and belts from his body, setting them in a pile on the rear deck until he stands there clothed only in darkness, and the warm breeze of the night. He turns to the rope he brought, and after securing it to a deck last, then around his waist, he drops the coil of rope onto the deck, and dives into the sea.

He makes hardly a splash, then once the slack is taken up in the rope, he is gently dragged behind the ship as he scrubs himself with a hunk of sea sponge he managed to squirrel away below decks. The roughness feels good on his pale skin, and starting with the arms, he scrubs until at least the first few layers of grime are removed. Once his legs, belly, back and privates are done, he tosses the sponge to the deck where it lands with a wet "splot". Then using his arms to pull along the rope, he climbs up the side of the ship to rest on the deck. Laying on his back under the stars, he muses on his fate, the only consolation being he will long outlive his tormentors, and one day his life may be his own again.

Sitting up, he produces a comb, stolen from a whore at the last Tavern they visited, and sitting cross legged in the dark, he begins the task of coming out his long matted coppery hair. By the time he is done, an hour has passed, and he has tossed more than a dozen clumps of his hair into the sea. Once again however, his hair is combed through, and hangs in a shimmering length to the middle of his back. He pulls it around to the front, holding it as if it would provide some security or magickal cure to all the wrongs plaguing him.

When his arm tires, he lets go of his hair, and sighing he redresses, and then gathers up the tools of his secretive grooming to hide away once again. Having access to soap and hot water would have been nice indeed, but that would have scented him, and even the stink blind Captain would have noticed that and made a deadly inquiry. Once the sponge and comb are hidden away he slinks back to the Captain's quarters, and removes his boots before slipping under the bed with a blanket to sleep. He closes his eyes, an sighs softy. Another day survived, an eon to go.