To Get a Ticket

by hcolleen

(mirrors http://s2b2.livejournal.com/167102.html)

Which was worse, Robert couldn’t say: the corset that pinched and squeezed his ribs and guts, making breathing difficult, or the clients who forced him up against the wall without regard to his comfort or safety. This most recent one had just pushed him, face first, his hand against the back of his head, hardly getting the pantaloons down before he had shoved his dick up his ass. Robert tried to keep his mind on his goal, but it was difficult to think about earning fare for an airship when his face was being shoved into a rough wooden house. He really should work better neighborhoods, he thought as the man thrust hard and quick against him. Somewhere with masonry and gardens he decided, a splinter digging into his cheek as the man behind him came.

No, the worst part was the condescending pat on the ass at the end. The man slipped the fee down the front of his shirt, the coins falling into the corset. Bastard, Robert swore silently as he worked the pantaloons back up under the weights of his skirts. He fished out what he could, but a couple of coins had slipped beyond his fingers’ reach. He’d have to wait until he could get the damned corset off. He couldn’t work them out without either something long and thin or loosening the laces. He sighed, shoving the coins he’d retrieved into his pouch. He still hadn’t made his fee for the night, much less any profit to cover his own expenses and save, and it was coming onto midnight.

Making his way back to the street, into the flickering light cast by the gaslight, Robert sighed and then put on his best ‘You know you want to have a good time’ expression as he watched the crowds of people flow from circle to circle of light. He received several interested glances, but all of them moved onto the next light.

Sure, there were other things he could do, but he’d been told by several of the others, mostly girls, that it was pretty easy to make money this way and he was pretty enough and a lot of men would pay the same rate for buggery as they did for normal sex. Some paid more, they assured him. What he’d found, though, was it was a lot of standing in the cold, trying to look alluring, but not too much so, as people flowed past him to occasionally get a customer who’d shove his face into a wall while the street fees took most of his take to keep the police off his case and to allow him to work that particular corner and alley. Still, it was more than he’d make in a factory at the end of the day and the work was easier.

But he needed to make more. He barely kept himself in a room. He only ate once a day, trying to save money. The clothes to start had been his mother’s, rest her soul, so he hadn’t had to pay for those, at least, even if they were old fashioned.

“You, girl,” a voice startled Robert from his reverie. Before him stood an airship captain. His uniform gleamed in the streetlights, their orangey fire painting his white coat golden, glittering on the medals of office, making the rope of rank at his shoulder glisten. His features were rugged, a scar running down his cheek, his hair hidden under his white, stiff brimmed hat. And, he was tall, a full head above Robert’s height. He was everything an airship captain should be.

“Yes, guv’nor?” Robert said, remembering to keep his voice light. He was pretty enough, he’d been told. Puberty had touched his voice, deepening it a little after embarrassingly cracking it, but not done anything to his figure or face yet. He was still willowy, as he’d been as a child, and his cheeks had yet to require a razor, nor had his chest shown any signs of the hair he’d seen on other men. He’d let his blond hair grow out, partially not being able to afford to go to the barber, partially it was useful being able to look like a girl, when needed. The girls had taught him how to put it up, though his hairstyle was nothing like the sweeping coifs he’d seen on a lot of the women that walked by.

The captain took off his hat and put it under his arm. His hair glistened like mahogany in the fire light, his skin tanned, looking like fine leather like Robert had seen on the day he’d ventured to the high streets. His eyes were shadowed, looking like obsidian, but something told Robert that wasn’t their color. “You’ll do. Come with me,” he said, turning on his heel. As he walked, he returned his hat to his head.

Curious, Robert followed. What choice did he have, really? The captain looked like he had money and it wouldn’t do to turn down a fee.

They walked to the end of the street where a flyer waited. Robert couldn’t help the gasp that escaped his lips. He’d seen the machines, of course he had. The rich used them to come and go between airships and their homes, but he’d never hoped to see one up close. He paused, staring at it.

The captain turned, frowning, and grabbed his wrist, wrapping his arm around his waist as he stepped onto the wooden platform. Metal shone around the wood, curving into a rounded rectangle, slightly narrower in the front than in the back. Stubby wings, more for balance and a slightly longer tail for steering. More than that, Robert didn’t know. The captain held onto Robert as he untied the lines that held the shuttle to the hitching post.

Rails fore and aft did little to comfort Robert as the machine lifted from the ground. With an undignified squeak, he wrapped his arms around the captain and turned his face into the man’s chest. He was forced to sway with the man, too afraid to pull his face out of the captain’s chest.

An unsettling rattle and jarring thump drew another squeak from Robert and the captain thrust him away. “Here, see that she’s washed and clothed properly,” he said, walking away quickly.

Robert looked around and saw an older woman dressed similarly to him, standing with her hands on her hips, staring at him. Her hair was dark, streaked with white, her face creased, a frown on her lips as her dark eyes raked down and up again. “She?” she asked.

“I ne’er said I was,” Robert protested. “He jus’ said ‘you, girl’ an’ I been tol’ to be sayin’ ‘yes, guv’nor’ an’ they be knowin’.”

The woman sighed and turned. “Follow me. It’s too late now to find another. We’ll hope he doesn’t feel like using you, then.”

Robert scurried to catch up to the woman as she walked quickly across the deck. He barely had time to pay attention to where he was going, much less look around. All he knew for sure was that he was finally on an airship. “What d’ya mean?” Robert asked when he caught up to her. He looked around, trying to understand what he was seeing, but it wasn’t until they were into the hallways and out of the docking area that anything made sense. The doors were rounded, with wheels that bolted them closed. Most of the ones they passed were labeled ‘engine rooms’ and bolted closed with locks secured to the wheels. A couple were open, showing sailors in their rooms, lounging, ignoring them as they passed.

“There’s a reception tonight. The captain is too married to this ship to bother with a woman, so he picks one up and has her dressed when he has to go to these things. She’s instructed to remain silent and if he’s pleased with her, he’ll sleep with her before returning her.” She turned and frowned at him while continuing to walk quickly through the halls. “He’s never picked up a boy before.”

“I’m sixteen,” he protested. It was old enough to be considered an adult, after all, not that anyone would have done anything about an orphan of his class anyway.

The woman snorted. “Still a boy,” she said.

“How old are you?” Robert asked sullenly.

“None of your never mind,” the woman replied sharply, turning into a room so quickly that Robert almost missed the door. “Didn’t they teach you never ask a lady her age?” she demanded, turning to push the door closed behind him.

Robert looked at the corner of the room, his cheeks burning. “Sorry,” he muttered.

Another sigh preceded the woman grabbing his shoulders and turning him to look at her. Her eyes were critical, starting with his hair and face, one of her hands moving to his chin, making him turn his head sharply and then look up. “No scars, no spots, no fuzz. You’re pretty enough, I suppose,” she said, her hands moving to her hips as she continued her scrutiny down his body. “Can you wear that tighter?” she asked, pointing at his waist.

“I don’t have anyone to help me and the dress fits over it,” he muttered. The corset was uncomfortable enough. He didn’t really want it to be tighter if he could avoid it.

“The dress you’re needing to wear has a seventeen inch waist. Yours is twenty, isn’t it?”

Robert shrugged. He’d never measured and he was rapidly coming to regret not correcting the impression that he was a girl if it would have spared him this torment.

The woman shook her head. “Take off the dress and your petticoats. Leave on your knickers. I don’t need to see the proof you’re a man,” she said, making the last word carry more of a slight than he’d ever heard in a single word.

He scowled at her but obeyed. While no mention had been made of his being paid, he was sure he would have been warned if this captain regularly picked up girls. He’d been warned about a few of the men who prowled the streets, letting him know they wouldn’t pay and not to bother or that they were dangerous to him. They would have told him about this, he hoped.

“You’ll be paid,” the woman said. “Three crowns if the night goes well enough.”

“Ah,” Robert stammered. He didn’t think his thoughts had been so clear and that was a lot of money, so much more than the fourpence he usually got. Before she could remind him, he started unfastening the buttons down the front of his dress quickly, pulling it over his head when he could. He untied the petticoats, making sure his pocket remained tied to his corset. He sucked in his chest as much as he could and found the penny that had been dropped there earlier. He tried to work his fingers in, but he couldn’t worm them between the lacings.

“What are you doing?” the woman demanded, exasperated.

“A penny was dropped down my corset earlier,” Robert said, his voice muffled as he kept trying to get it out.

“Don’t go after it that way; you’ll ruin the laces.” She swatted his hands away. “My name’s Rebecca, by the way,” she said as she deftly worked the knots open and drew out the coin and handed it to him. She retied the front of his corset and frowned at him. “Good shoulders,” she muttered. “Now, turn around and hold that post.”

Biting back a groan, Robert turned. He looked at the post, one that marked one end of the bed, bolted into the ground and into the ceiling. “My name’s Robert,” he said as he wrapped his hand around the post. The rest of the bed was bolted to the wall, set into the corner. The post marked the only free corner in the room. He looked down when he felt her hands around his waist.

“I was right, twenty. We’ll need to take it down three inches,” Rebecca muttered. Her fingers trailed down and up, checking the laces. “You’ve the space to do it and the laces look good.” She unlaced his corset, holding the ties so that they did not relax. “Breathe out and relax,” she ordered as her foot came to rest on his lower back.

“Relax?” he squeaked as all the air was forced out of his lungs. He was forced to pant, trying not to whine as she pulled. He could hear her disapproval even though she didn’t make a sound. He stretched his back, trying to make it easier for the damned corset to tighten. He felt himself getting lightheaded and woozy when she finally dropped her foot and tied the laces. He leaned against the post, struggling to catch his breath while she measured his waist.

“Much better,” she said, her tone sharp. When Robert looked at her, she continued, “You men like this, so you just have to smile.”

“I didn’t ask you to do this,” Robert said, his voice faint.

Rebecca snorted and pulled him away from the post. “I expect you to endure this like a woman,” she said. Leading him over to a chair, she made him sit and began undoing his hair, tossing pins onto the table next to the chair. It, too, was bolted to the wall, having no legs reaching the ground. She clicked her tongue when she saw his hair only reached his shoulders. Before Robert could say anything, she began pulling a brush through it, yanking Robert’s hair back as she did.

Robert bit his tongue to keep from crying out. None of the other women who’d helped him had been as harsh with him. They had known his mother, though and knew that he was an orphan, the child of a whore who’d died of syphilis, or at least that’s what it had looked like. There hadn’t been money for a doctor or even a proper burial.

Airships were supposed to go to magical lands where there was enough money and enough work and places to live for everyone. If Robert could earn a ticket on one, then he could be free to do whatever he wanted. He wouldn’t have to work the streets, earning slightly more than he could earn in a factory. He could learn more than just how to do figures, calculating what he earned and what he still needed to earn. He could learn and read and go to college. He’d seen the students at the college one day when he’d been running an errand for his mother before she’d gotten ill and how carefree they were, how they spoke of great and wonderful things and knew so very much and he longed for that. In that place where the airships went, he could do that.

His attention was torn from his dreams when Rebecca began washing his face roughly. He fought his desire to make a face at her while she scrubbed all the skin off his face and down his neck to his shoulders. “I’m sorry I’m not a girl,” he muttered.

“That is not the problem,” Rebecca muttered, picking up a pot from the table. “The problem is I have to dress you and I only have twenty more minutes and I really need more time,” she said, her expression softening. Her touch with the stuff from the jar was softer, but still quick as she smeared heavy cream over his face and neck to his chest. She applied color to his lips and cheeks and eyes before making him stand. From a closet, she pulled out a bright red petticoat and held it out for him to step into. As she was fastening it to the lower edge of the corset, Robert stroked the fabric, smooth and slick under his fingers. “Silk,” she said, answering his unasked question. “And don’t you be fingering it to death.”

She pulled another petticoat, white this time, from the closet and had him lift his arms as she slipped it over his head, tying it around his waist. She had him step into a hoop skirt and worked it up under the petticoats and adjusted their fall over it. She then pulled out a filmy skirt of many layers of white organdy. When he touched it, though, it didn’t have the stiffness of organdy. “What?” he asked, his voice awed. He’d only seen such rich dresses from a distance.

“Silk organza,” Rebecca replied, securing the skirt to his waist. The skirt rustled as she settled the layers around him. Next came the white shirtwaist, a stiffer fabric with lace around the neck and cuffs. It was cut so that lace covered his chest to his neck, fabric starting just above the corset and continuing to a point just below his waist, covering the top of the skirt. The sleeves were worked with eyelets backed with lace.

He laughed. “I look like a débutante,” he said.

Rebecca looked up from fastening his buttons. “When have you seen a débutante?” she asked.

“I’ve been to the high end a few times. I’ve seen the girls, heard them talk.”

Rebecca laughed. “Fine, fine, you’ve seen them, but the dress isn’t quite right for a débutante. No gloves, for one, no train, either.” She snorted. “Like a street rat like you would be presented to the queen and court as marriageable.”

Robert lifted his chin. “Still, I feel that pretty,” he said, scowling at her.

Rebecca shook her head. “Don’t sit. I don’t have shoes that’ll fit you and you don’t want anyone seeing those you have.”

Blinking, Robert looked down at himself then turned, finding a mirror over the table he’d been sitting near. He gasped, bringing his hand to his mouth, stopping before he touched it. His hair was done fashionably, looking like there was so much more of it than he had. The lace and the cut of the shirtwaist worked well with his flat chest, masking it, especially with the narrowness of his waist and the fullness of his skirts. “Oh,” he murmured, his eyes wide, blinking at how much he’d changed in such a short time.

“Hurry, there’s no time to be gawking at yourself. And, remember, keep your mouth shut,” she admonished. “And say your name is Roberta, as you value your life,” she hissed before opening the door and bowing.

Robert’s eyes widened. He didn’t know what had given away to Rebecca that the captain was outside the door but he looked even more impressive now than he had on the street, his uniform darkness, medals and badges of honour glistening on his chest like stars against the night sky, golden ropes of braid around his shoulder, the cuffs of his sleeves and tracing his throat. Robert’s breath caught in his chest and he could feel heat rising to his cheeks. He barely remembered to drop to a curtsey. Something very visceral in him wanted this man, even if it was against the wall in the back of an alley. He knew he’d enjoy it, even with the corset and splinters intruding on his enjoyment. He was suddenly very grateful for the hoopskirt and its ability to hide his body’s reaction.

“Exquisite, as always, Rebecca,” he said, his voice more richly deep, echoing slightly off the metal walls of the room.

“Of course, sir,” she said, bowing her head. “Roberta is ready to accompany you, sir.”

“Let’s go,” the captain said, his voice echoing through the room, bouncing off the metallic walls until it settled in Robert’s groin.

Silently, Robert followed as the captain turned, not waiting before he strode down the hall. Robert had barely drawn even when the captain opened a door to a small room. Robert looked at it curiously before entering but couldn’t see a way out of it. The captain followed him in and closed the door before pulling a lever.

Robert gasped as the room moved, his eyes widening as he reached out for the wall. He couldn’t stop the undignified squeak that rose in his throat.

The captain chuckled. “It’s just a lift,” he said. He pushed the lever back up and the room stopped moving with a bump. When the door before them opened, they were facing a wide open room. The floors were golden, polished wood, the planks running straight to the walls made of windows, lights reflecting and glittering off a view of the city and sky stretched out below them. It was almost automatic that Robert placed his hand on the Captain’s arm, his eyes focused on those windows in awe and terror.

The announcement of “Captain Abraham Jones and companion,” drew Robert’s attention back to the room. Officers dressed in black, medals glistening, stood among the brightly colored flowers of dresses. A polite rain of applause rose from the crowd as the captain guided them into the room. When he stopped to bow, Robert dropped a curtsey, though he wasn’t quite sure why. As far as he could tell, it was just other officers and other women and a captain should rank all the officers, shouldn’t he?

They stepped into the crowd to be greeted with salutes and curtsies. Robert thought his knees would give out on him before everyone was greeted. The dresses, he noticed, while very colorful, weren’t quite as nice as the one he had on, but what could be as nice as silk organza? Though, some of the other women’s dresses, especially one of a brilliantly deep red taffeta, made him feel a little envious, though the décolletage on it would have been far too low for him.

He almost physically shook himself for having such thoughts. He was a street rat, a boy, man almost. He shouldn’t be entertaining such thoughts about clothing. He shouldn’t want to know if the captain would like him better in red than white.

It didn’t help his resolve any when the captain solicitously asked if he needed a drink. Robert flushed and nodded. “Thank you,” he whispered, thinking that Rebecca’s edict against speaking didn’t extend to not being polite, if he kept his voice soft.

The drink in the wide, shallow, stemmed glass was completely unlike anything else he’d had. It fizzed, tickling his nose and mouth as he sipped. He brought his hand up to his nose, touching the end of it as he looked at the drink. He blushed again when he realized he was being watched. “Sorry,” he whispered, moving his hand quickly back to his side.

The captain chuckled. “Never had champagne?” he asked.

Robert shook his head, suddenly unable to force his voice past the tightening the captain’s laughter caused.

Music began suddenly, startling Robert again. The captain took his glass and led him out onto the floor, sweeping him around. Robert’s free hand came up automatically when he saw the captain’s going to his waist. He watched dances through the windows on the high streets but had never really had a chance to practice. The captain’s touch was very firm, though, guiding him. With the smallness of his waist, the captain’s hand easily spanned the whole of his back and all Robert had to do was move as he was directed. After a moment or two of barely keeping up with those directions, he found the rhythm of the song and movements, though that led to almost stepping on the captain’s foot.

“Just follow,” he hissed in his ear.

Robert nodded mutely, trying to obey and not anticipate the next step. He took as deep a breath as he could and felt himself relax into the movements more, following more readily, finding the steps and moving with the captain’s directions instead of just in response to them.

Then, the song was over. They parted, like the other couples around them, Robert could now see, and turned to face the orchestra. They clapped politely and soon another song began, quicker in tempo. The captain moved off to the side and Robert followed him. The champagne was better this time, the bubbles pleasant and the flavor light as he sipped. Watching the swirling dresses as they moved across the floor was much more enjoyable than dancing, though a couple of songs later, they were back out onto the floor. As with the drink, the dance was better the second time, easier, his body more readily flowing with the music and the captain’s directions.

After the second dance, a round of finger foods was brought by the waiters, strange little bits of bread and brightly colored foods. Not having a plate and the size of the morsels made it difficult to get very much to eat, but with as tight as his corset was, he didn’t think he could eat much.

More music began and the captain led Robert out onto a secluded balcony, using a key to open and close the door behind them. Outside, he could hear the thrum of the engines that kept the ship hovering above the city and smell the rising scent of smoke and humanity. Robert moved to the railing, looking out over the lights that spread out below him to the horizon. He was awed by the view and forgot, for a moment, that the captain was there.

Soft kisses at the back of his neck and an arm slipping around his waist reminded him the captain was there and his body remembered how much it could appreciate such a man, one of rank, one who looked nice and one who, apparently, liked a little play beforehand. He hummed softly in pleasure. How exquisite it would be, up here, the thrill of seeing the city below him, of having someone he wanted to fuck him behind him.

It was a little bit of a surprise to feel the captain’s hand under his skirt. Most men couldn’t find the pocket slit of a skirt unless they were shown it beforehand and even then, they still had problems. The captain’s touch was sure, confident, until it slid over Robert’s stomach, grazing the bottom of the corset and the top of his erection.

“What is this?” he asked, his voice cold.

Robert swallowed, fear replacing desire rapidly. His blood ran cold. “I was told if I said ‘yes, guv’nor’ you would know,” he whispered after swallowing tightly. “I didn’t know you didn’t until Rebecca said and she told me to keep quiet,” he whimpered.

The hand came out of the skirt and he was turned around, a hand going to his throat. “You whore,” the captain bit out. “You filthy lying whore. How dare you!” he snarled, pushing Robert back over the edge of the railing.

Robert’s eyes flew wide. “You knew I was a whore,” he gasped, unsure if he should grab the railing or the captain’s hand. “I was told you would know!” he sobbed desperately, hesitantly reaching for the captain’s arm. “The others told me you would!”

The captain pulled Robert away from the railing and threw him against the wall before he began pacing the small deck. “How was I supposed to know?” he demanded, glaring at Robert as he lay in a pile of skirts and hoops, his eyes wide.

“The girls say ‘guv,'” he gasped, fighting to straighten some part of his outfit again. He could feel the corset biting into his body at his hips and waist, constricting his lungs, making it hard for him to even think. “That’s what they told me when I started.”

A shudder coursed through the captain’s body. “Why…why would you foul yourself…and others?” he spat out.

Robert fought his way to his knees, his cheeks glowing red with his own anger now. “Because they pay me better than some factory boss and I wanted to earn a ticket to ride on this ship so I could go somewhere and earn a better living,” he yelled back. He gasped at the end, his hands moving to his hips to try and let him draw a better breath. “Because it’s more honest than outright thievery and it was good enough for my mother, so why shouldn’t I?” He pushed himself to his feet. “And, no, I couldn’t just join the navy,” he spat out before the captain could say anything. “They won’t take a bastard son of a whore, especially one who looks like a girl anyway. I tried to do something different. This is my best option. I’m sorry if it doesn’t meet your lofty ideals,” he said, turning to the door, not caring that it probably wouldn’t open for him.

“You don’t talk like a whore,” the captain said abruptly.

“I wanted to be a scholar. My mother worked hard to send me to school until she died. I still go sometimes,” he admitted, facing the door. The door had no windows and there were no windows facing into the ballroom. They were alone here. He turned to face the captain again. “And, I don’t see it as fouling myself, either. I see it as using what resources I have to the best of my ability. Isn’t it worse, more fouling, to become little better than a slave to some factory owner? Isn’t it better than resting on some birthright?”

The captain snorted, crossing his arms over his chest. “And, you enjoy it,” he said snidely.

Robert’s blush returned and he looked toward the wall. “Not usually,” he admitted. “Most of the time, I’m just shoved up against the wall without care, fucked hard until he comes and then, if I’m lucky, they’ll hand me money. Usually, though, they think it’s funny to drop it in my corset. They pay, though, because if they don’t, the others won’t touch them. We watch out for each other on the streets.” He brought his hands together in front of him. “But you, you’re different. You’re…more handsome, gentle, let me wear this,” he said, his hands moving to lift a layer of his skirt. He smoothed it down. “And, the uniform looks very nice,” he admitted, feeling stupidly like the girls he’d seen fawning over officers. His eyes went up when he heard the captain move, watching as the man leaned against the wall near him.

“What is your name?” he asked.

“Robert Adams,” he said. “My mother’s last name was Adams, so that’s what I use since I don’t know who my father was,” he added quickly.

The captain looked at him a long moment. “Tell me, Robert Adams, if I were to make you a cabin boy assigned to me, would you accept it?”

Robert frowned. “You want to make me your servant,” he clarified. He’d worked hard to stay out of servitude and didn’t want to start now.

The captain chuckled. “Not just that. I would also see to your education and training. You do have a good head on your shoulders, from what I’ve heard just now. Are you going to disprove it?”

Robert pulled a face. “In exchange for what?” he asked, his voice tense.

The captain reached over and pulled Robert closer. “I do have to admit a certain curiosity now. If that curiosity is sated by this one time, then that shall be it. If not, then I shall expect these services to continue,” he said. “You shall still get your three crowns for tonight as well as a standard wage in addition to a schooling allowance, to study anything you want.”

“You’re offering me schooling to continue to have sex with you?” Robert asked, blinking in surprise.

The captain wrapped an arm around Robert’s waist and pulled him closer. “Only if you wear a corset and pantaloons,” he whispered, leaning down and kissing Robert.

Still shocked, Robert couldn’t move, couldn’t return the kiss for a long moment. When he could, his arms moved slowly to circle the captain’s neck. He pulled away a little. “Don’t…don’t offer something you don’t mean,” he whispered harshly.

“Oh, I assure you, I mean it,” the captain said. “It would be very nice to have someone to take to these functions without having to pick someone up all the time and having a cabin boy would be very convenient. As far as the sex, let’s see if that’ll work between us. It is part of the three crowns you’re earning tonight.”

Robert nodded. It was a good offer and it would be stupid not to take it. “Fine, I accept your offer,” he said.

The captain moved him back over to the railing, moving behind him again, his hand slipping through the pocket slip easily. “I believe we were here,” he whispered, his lips against Robert’s neck again.

Robert hummed, his body warming again. “We were, yes.” He closed his eyes a moment, enjoying the feel of lips against his skin, of the warmth of the captain’s hand over his pantaloons. “Are you always so gentle?” he whispered, his voice carrying enjoyment and the beginning of lust.

“I do enjoy sex, moreso when my partner does,” he admitted. “Though, I’ve never played with anyone else’s cock.”

Robert chuckled, the sound definitely carrying lust as his groin tightened at the thought of his cock being played with. “Just use it as your own,” he suggested. He looked down as the captain’s lips caressed the back of his neck and he could feel the man lowering his body to allow it.

“I think I’ll wait a moment longer, first. Tell me,” he whispered into Robert’s ear, “do you need anything first? Some women need a little warming before they can enjoy themselves.”

“No,” Robert whispered, not wanting to shake his head. “I’ve…prepared already,” he admitted, blushing deeply. None of his other clients had even cared if he’d needed anything.

The captain hummed against his neck. “I’ll ask you about that later,” he whispered. His hands came up and he encouraged Robert to hold onto the rail, then caressed his arms back up to his shoulders. “For now, look at the city below you and gloat over them. None of them have such a splendid view for sex.”

Robert moaned as he felt his skirts lifted, the hoops coming to rest on his lower back, the petticoats weighing heavily. The night air was cool against his ass as the captain lowered his pantaloons, his hands warm.

Hesitation made Robert look over his shoulder. “In my arsehole, sir,” he suggested. “Or I can bring my thighs together.”

The captain chuckled and the sound of a belt being unfastened warmed Robert again. “It wasn’t that. I was admiring how fine an arse you have.” His hands caressed Robert’s ass again, gentle as they spread the cheeks. One left Robert’s skin and a moment later, the head of a cock was pressing into Robert’s body.

Robert moaned, enjoying the intrusion for the first time he could remember. “Oh, captain,” he moaned, his voice thick with lust, breathy from lack of air.

The captain ran a hand down Robert’s leg as he slid his cock all the way in his body. “Oh, this is indeed glorious,” he panted, leaning over Robert’s back, letting him feel the broadcloth fabric of his uniform against his ass. “So warm, welcoming. Better than a cunt, I think,” he breathed as he began nibbling on Robert’s ear. He gasped and chuckled, a sound that was pure lust and pleasure, when Robert’s body tightened around him at the compliments. “I will have to keep you for this,” he decided.

“Captain,” Robert moaned again, gasping, his eyes blinking, staring unseeing out on the city, as a warm hand wrapped around his erection. He sobbed in pleasure, something he’d never really experienced, as the captain slid back and in, stroking his cock in time to his thrust. Over and over, Robert called to the captain until he was begging for more, for release.

The captain pushed himself up, his thrusts becoming quicker, his hand gripping Robert’s shaft more firmly, his other hand moving to the boy’s hip. “Show me what it feels like when you climax,” he panted.

Robert was so close, it didn’t take much more to send him over, his body tightening around the captain’s cock as he spilled his seed on the red petticoat, gasping, blinking as the lights of the city exploded behind his eyes. He felt more than heard the captain grunt, shoving into him as he came with a growl, then came to rest on Robert’s back.

For a long moment, Robert let himself drift on the fantasy of shared pleasure and enjoyment. A kiss to his shoulder let him know it was real. “Come, we must return for the last dance,” the captain said, pulling back slowly, drawing a gasp from both of them. He helped Robert reset his pantaloons and the hoops and skirts. “Later, when there’s more time, I want to see your face when you climax,” the captain said, caressing Robert’s cheek.

“I’d like that, too,” Robert whispered, smiling. He took the captain’s arm as they returned to the ballroom, pleased with everything. He now had his whole new world and it was better than he expected.

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