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Challenge 7. Harry signs on as a cabin boy to Captain Snape. (Nimori)

Harry had been waiting for this day for years. The day he turned fifteen. The day he could finally do what he wanted: sign on as a cabin boy.

Not that he wanted to be a cabin boy, particularly, but he wanted to go out to sea, to be a sailor, and he'd heard that was the way to do it most easily. He would learn everything there was to know about the ship, then when there was an opening in the regular crew, he'd be ready and waiting to take it.

He'd wanted this as long as he could remember. He'd hang around the docks, watching the ships come and go, fascinated. Harry was an orphan, and the orphanage where he lived was little better than the streets. In fact, they'd be kicking him out soon, anyway. They'd happily given him his tattered birth certificate to prove his age, and he wouldn't miss it there.

He'd have done it earlier, in fact he had lately been haunting the enlistment offices that handled staffing the ships. But they had this silly rule that no one under the age of fifteen could sign on as a cabin boy. Harry didn't understand it; he'd always been scrawny but he was very strong for his age. He proved it by working odd jobs, helping to unload cargo, making a small amount of money. If he hadn't, he probably would have starved by now. The food at the orphanage was nearly inedible, and the bigger kids tended to steal it from the smaller ones regularly. He wanted out, badly. But when he'd asked about the rule, and said he was strong enough, the man had just laughed mysteriously and said it was for Harry's own protection. He didn't understand.

But the man wouldn't believe Harry was fifteen without evidence, so he waited. Impatiently.

On his fifteenth birthday, Harry packed up his few possessions into a small bag and left without looking back.

When he entered the enlistment office, the man looked up and said, "Not you again."

Harry proudly waved the bit of paper. "I'm fifteen today! You have to take me!"

The man frowned. "No, I don't, but let me 'ave a look."

Harry handed over the paper and the man frowned at it for a few minutes, as if expecting it to be a forgery. But, apparently it passed scrutiny, because he looked up and sighed. "Looks like everythin's in order, then. You sure about this, boy?"

"More than anything," Harry answered eagerly, and watched as the man pulled out a large book.

"Right, then, let's see what we 'ave," mused the man, perusing the entries for a few moments as Harry nearly bounced on the balls of his feet. He looked out the window and gazed at the tall masts of the ships, wondering which one would be his new home.

"Sorry, boy, but you're out o' luck," the man finally announced, looking up from the book.

"What?" Harry said in shock, his head snapping around to look at the man.

"No openin's for a cabin boy right now," the man said, but something in his tone made Harry frown.

He waved a hand at all the ships currently in the harbor. "What about all those?"

"They're all crewed up," the man said.

Harry stared at the man in shock. The idea that when the day finally came, that he wouldn't be immediately taken on had never crossed his mind. "But..." he just stared, unable to think. "I've got nowhere to go..."

"I'm sure ther'll be an openin' in a couple o' days, just go on 'ome and check back with me," the man said, trying to sound reassuring.

"I don't have a home!" cried Harry. "I *have* to get on a crew, today!"

The man stared at Harry for a long moment, as if thinking hard. Harry stared back, mind trying to cope with this new information. Then he let his head drop, furiously holding back his tears. He hadn't cried since he was five, and he wouldn't start now.

Harry jumped when the man spoke again, clearly reluctant. "There is one, actually," he began, as if speaking against his better judgement. "If there was any other choice, I wouldn't do this..."

"What? There's an opening?" Harry said eagerly, looking up at him. "I'll take it!"

"You don't know what you're gettin' into, boy," he said, shaking his head.

"Yes, I do," Harry said firmly. "I'm strong, I can handle it."

The man sighed, pulling out some forms, saying, "I 'ope you don't regret this, boy. I already do."

Harry wouldn't allow himself to worry about the man's odd tone. He would be getting his ship after all! "Which ship is it?" he asked eagerly.

"The Belladonna," the man said grudgingly.

Harry frowned. He knew he'd heard the name, but couldn't remember where. Which was odd, because he made a habit of learning as much as possible about all the ships. "Who's her captain?"

"Cap'n Snape," the man answered, not looking at Harry and with a definite note of malice in his voice.

"Oh," answered Harry, racking his brain for anything he knew about Snape. He failed. "Is it a good ship?"

"The ship is gorgeous," said the man evasively. "Too much so, f'you ask me," he muttered.

Harry stared, not sure what the man meant but afraid to ask lest he refuse to let Harry sign on. He waited quietly as the man finished filling out forms. He was too excited to really be worried. He was signing onto a ship!

Finally, the man was finished. "Sign 'ere," he instructed, and Harry painfully wrote his name. It was about all he knew how to read or write.

Then the man gave Harry a paper and told him to report to the Belladonna's quartermaster, a man called Malfoy.

Harry stepped out, into the bright sunlight, and took a deep breath. He was a cabin boy at last! He set off down the dock, looking for his new home. Cabin boys signed on for a term of no less than one year, but if they survived, they often stayed with the same ship for much longer.

He heard his name being called, and he turned.

"Harry! Big day, eh?" A huge man waved at him from the deck of a ship.

Harry grinned and ran to the edge of the dock and yelled up at him. "Yes, Hagrid! Finally!"

"Good for you, Harry! Which ship you get?"

"The Belladonna!" Harry called proudly.

Hagrid's face fell. "S'not nice to pull jokes on ol' Hagrid, Harry."

Harry scowled. "I'm not joking, Hagrid."

Hagrid shook his head. "Bad business, that ship, Harry, you don't want to be messin' about with that sort."

"What's wrong with it?" demanded Harry.

"Nothing's *wrong*, Harry, just... I've heard things about her captain. Bad things."

Harry laughed. He'd been on his own nearly his whole life, and was used to regular beatings. "I can handle it, Hagrid, don't worry about me. I have to go!" he called, eager to get away from the disturbing conversation. What could be so bad about the ship or her captain?

He was spared further thought when he arrived at the berth marked "Belladonna." He looked up, and up; it truly was a magnificent ship. He grinned and squared his shoulders. He was going to be the best cabin boy they'd ever had!

He walked up the gangway eagerly, pausing at the top to look for someone who could direct him to the quartermaster. He stood there for a moment before someone stopped and asked him what he wanted.

"I'm looking for the quartermaster, Mr. Malfoy," said Harry. When the man just looked at him, he added, "I'm the new cabin boy."

An unhealthy grin spread across the man's face as he looked at Harry anew. It didn't comfort him. "Why didn't you say so?" The man laughed and called to another man across the deck. "Oi! Flint! We got ourselves a new cabin boy!"

Several men on the deck stopped in their various duties, craning their necks to look at Harry, and he blushed as he heard several appreciative whistles and comments. "Please, can you tell me where to find Mr. Malfoy?"

"Oh, I'll show you to Mr. Malfoy personally, sweetcheeks," the man laughed, and catcalls came from all around.

Harry started to feel uneasy.

The man beckoned for him to follow, and Harry did, reluctantly. He led Harry to a door and knocked sharply.

"What?" came the obviously annoyed voice from the other side of the door.

"It's the new cabin boy, Mr. Malfoy, sir."

A brief silence, then, "Have him come in."

The man grinned at Harry and opened the door. "Go on in, then, boy," he chuckled. With one more leer, the man said, "Welcome aboard."

Harry mumbled, "Thanks," and walked into the room. Temporarily blinded by its relative darkness, he blinked a few times, pausing to let his eyes adjust.

A cold voice came from the corner, in front of a desk. "Well, come on, I don't have all day," he snapped, and Harry stepped forward.

The man had his back to him, and as Harry's eyes adjusted fully he had time to note the man's silver-blond hair held back in a neat ponytail before he turned around. Now Harry could see the man had ice-blue-green eyes and a haughty expression on his face. His clothes were impeccable, a bit surprising for a working ship, and the man spoke again. "Papers?"

"Oh. Right." Harry stepped forward and handed the man, presumably Mr. Malfoy, the forms he'd been given. The man took them and started looking them over, with an occasional glance up at Harry. For his part, Harry tried not to fidget, unsure of what he was supposed to be doing.

Finally, Mr. Malfoy spoke up. "Well, everything seems to be in order," he glanced down at the papers, "Harry."

The blond man paused, looking at Harry, his expression unreadable. Harry looked down, trying to hold still. He had no idea what came next.

"Welcome to the Belladonna," the man finally said. "I am Lucius Malfoy, and I am the quartermaster on this ship. You will report to me when the Captain doesn't need you. Captain Snape of course is in charge of everything, and I don't think I have to remind you that once we're out at sea, his word is absolute law. He decides who lives and dies, if necessary. Do you understand, boy?"

Harry swallowed hard, nodding. He did know that about ships at sea, but it sounded more menacing coming from Mr. Malfoy.

The man went on. "You'll follow orders absolutely, or you'll be left at the closest port, if you're lucky." He left unsaid what would happen if Harry was not lucky. "Captain Snape is a harsh but fair man, but some think him cruel. This is your last chance to walk away, boy."

Harry took a deep breath, and reminded himself how long he had wanted this. "I want this," he said softly.

Malfoy smiled then, but it wasn't comforting. "Welcome to the crew, then. I look forward to welcoming you more thoroughly later."

Harry's eyes went wide as he tried to figure out what that meant.

"Now go and report to Mr. Wood, he'll give you something to do until we're underway. I'll let you know when the Captain is ready for you."

"Thank you, sir," Harry said quickly and backed out of the room. This wasn't quite what he had expected, but he was actually on a crew! He couldn't help but be happy.

He found Wood eventually, a tall thin boy who looked hardly older than himself. The next few hours sped by, as he was told to stow his pack and get to work.

Harry lost track of the number of jobs he was assigned; he'd never worked so hard in his life but he found he was enjoying it. He tried to memorise everyone's name, and remember all the steps to each job, determined not to make any mistakes.

Then it was time to sail, and there wasn't much for Harry to do yet, so he just watched and absorbed as much as he could.

When they had got well under way, Mr. Malfoy sent for him. The blond man looked at him and said, "It's nearly time for dinner. You will serve the Captain at all meals. You will kneel on the floor next to him and await his orders. Obey unquestioningly and you will do fine. Disobey and you will feel the Captain's wrath."

Harry nodded, swallowing hard.

"Your bag has been brought to the Captain's quarters, where you will stay as long as he is pleased with you," Malfoy went on. "I think that you are ignorant of most things, Harry." He paused, thinking for a moment while Harry wondered just what the man was referring to. "And I think I will let Captain Snape decide how to proceed."

And with that mysterious statement, he was told to go get cleaned up and proceed to the dining room.

He found it, finally, and went in meekly. He looked around quickly, hoping it would be easy to tell where the Captain's table was.

It was.

The dining room was not ornate, but fairly plush as ships went. There were about 5 long bench-like tables across the room in front of him, and on a slightly raised portion at the front stood the Captain's table. Harry supposed it was raised so the Captain could see everyone at once. He made his way around the long tables, already starting to fill with rowdy men. Harry glanced up at the Captain's table as he walked, trying to sneak looks at Captain Snape without seeming to stare. He saw a dark-haired man at the head of the table, talking to Mr. Malfoy, and in an instant Harry knew he was the captain. He fixed his eyes on the floor again before he really got a good look.

He approached the table slowly, aiming for the head chair, not sure if he should wait for permission or just kneel next to the Captain's chair. He chanced a look at Malfoy, who nodded and inclined his head toward the dark-haired man. Harry moved to the right side of the man's chair, still focused on the floor, and kneeled quickly. His knees protested; he was already getting sore from the unaccustomed work, but there was a rug on the floor and it wasn't unbearable. The men talked, the room filled, and Harry looked at the floor.

The food was brought out, steaming in huge dishes and tureens; it seemed the Belladonna's crew ate well. No one moved to eat, yet, and when Malfoy cleared his throat he realised they were all waiting for the Captain to begin. And since he was to serve the Captain, that meant they were all waiting for *him*. He blushed and risked a glance at the quartermaster. He nodded, frowning, and Harry climbed to his feet as quickly as he could. He had no idea how to do this, so he just grabbed a dish and moved it in front of the Captain's plate, and ladled some out. It seemed to be a sort of stew, and he was proud that he didn't actually spill any of it. A quick glance at Malfoy out of the corner of his eye (he still hadn't looked directly at the captain) showed him that he wasn't doing anything wrong yet. He served the Captain a chunk of bread, then after Malfoy angled his head toward a large decanter, poured him a drink that smelled like rotting fruit. Malfoy nodded at him, and Harry breathed a sigh of relief, settling back down onto the floor. He could just see the Captain's plate from here, and could watch if anything needed refilling.

He watched carefully, the aroma of the food making his stomach grumble loudly, but Harry was used to going days without food. He could handle it. Then to his surprise, a filled bowl and spoon was handed down to him, and he glanced up to meet burning dark eyes framed with black hair, before he remembered and looked down again. He ate quickly, and he couldn't remember anything tasting this good. He still kept an eye on the Captain's plate, though, and as he finished he noted that the man's cup was nearly empty. He put his bowl down and grabbed for the wine, nearly upsetting it but just managing to catch it. How Harry got through the whole mean without spilling anything, he didn't know; the image of those eyes was burned into him.

Finally, the meal ended, and Harry watched as the room emptied. Then the Captain stood, walked past him and a deep, dark voice commanded, "Follow me, boy."

Harry scrambled to his feet and followed, keeping his eyes down so no one would see him blush. He was going to be alone with the Captain, all alone.

The door clicked shut behind him, and Harry stood, eyes fixed to the floor and unsure of what was expected of him. He was dying for another look at the man who now ruled his fate, but he didn't risk it.

The soft, silky voice spoke again, sending shivers down Harry's spine. "I realise you are ignorant, so I am going easy on you, boy. But you'd better be a quick study."

"I am, sir," replied Harry, still looking down. "Thank you for giving me a chance."

"Look at me, boy," commanded the Captain.

Startled, Harry looked up, into the dark eyes he'd only glimpsed before. Captain Snape was tall, well over six feet he guessed. It was a competition as to whether the man's hair or eyes were the darker; both stood out against sallow skin. The man's features were sharp, angular; a prominent nose ruled his face. His lips were thin and set in a line, but as he watched Harry, they twisted into a sneer. Harry couldn't even begin to guess the man's age; at the same time he seemed quite young yet world-weary at the same time. The Captain spoke again, and Harry decided that the deep, dark voice exactly matched this dark man. His clothes were not too ornate but fitted him perfectly; his body looked powerful but not thick with muscles. All in all, a man that could have fit the romantic ideal of a pirate captain had he been slightly more handsome. But all the same Harry's heart was beating fast, and it wasn't all from fear. Captain Snape exuded power and control. Harry was finding that he quite liked the idea of being under the control of this man. Completely.

Harry's harsh life had left little time for romantic trysts, and he had never found a girl who had caught his eye anyway. But then, one day, one of the older boys in the orphanage had pulled him into a dark closet, and forced his mouth onto Harry's and pushed him against the wall. At first, Harry had struggled, but the older boy was much stronger. Then the boy had started rubbing him through his trousers, and to his horror Harry had quickly become aroused. Soon he'd been gasping and rocking against the other boy, and they had both climaxed without even removing any clothes. The other boy had fled, and never bothered Harry again, though Harry wouldn't have minded. He was still quite confused, but at least now he could admit, if only to himself, that he liked boys.

But, suddenly Harry realised that he liked *men* even better. Something about Captain Snape made him feel lightheaded, and made him want to surrender everything to the man. Harry hadn't had any more experience than that day in the closet, but he listened to everyone talking, and had picked up a bit of information.

Snape's eyes narrowed as he looked at Harry. "Scrawny little thing, aren't you? Am I to believe you're fifteen?"

"Y-yes sir," Harry stammered, the first time he'd spoken directly to the man's face. His nervousness was now a combination of fear and desire. To his horror, he could feel himself hardening, and this sent a blush to his cheeks.

"Yes to what? That I'm to believe you're fifteen or that you actually are?" snapped the Captain.

"I am, sir. Fifteen. That's the rules, Captain, sir," Harry babbled. He shifted; his erection was painfully trapped in his trousers.

"Hm," Snape mused thoughtfully. "I get the feeling a boy such as yourself has very little use for rules unless it suits him."

Harry tried not to frown. That was an unfair statement, the man didn't even know him! "I know how to follow rules, sir."

"Do you really?" the Captain purred, smirking down at him. "We shall see."

Harry looked back at the man, not knowing if he was expected to respond. This was all so new; he felt completely off-balance, unsure of what to say or do. And it didn't help that he was hard as a rock. He stood still as the Captain walked around him; he fixed his eyes on the wall, trying not to fidget as Snape circled him.

The Captain came round to Harry's front again, and spoke. "Well, you'll do, I suppose. I don't suppose you know what's expected of you as a cabin boy?"

Harry looked up at the dark-haired man. "I'm to serve you, sir."

"That's right," agreed Snape softly, and took a long step closer to Harry, looming over him. "You serve me. You follow my orders. *Whatever* I tell you, is that clear? Or you're off the ship."

Harry stared up at the Captain, trying to swallow. "Y-yes, sir," he stammered. If the Captain was trying to scare him, it wasn't working quite as intended. Harry was a bit frightened, but mostly he was just aroused, and hoped that the man's orders would be sexual.

The Captain looked down at Harry for a long moment, smirking. "Do you have any questions, boy?"

"No, sir," Harry said, trying to hold still. He did have about a million, but he thought it wouldn't be a good idea to try the Captain's patience this early on.

Snape stepped back and started to unbutton his coat. "Then go fetch a bucket with hot water and a cloth. I wish to bathe."

"Yes, sir," stammered Harry, and ran down to the kitchens.

By the time he returned with a heavy bucket full of hot water, he was trying hard not to think about exactly what role he would be expected to play in the Captain's bath.

He knocked at the door, was bade to enter, and walked in. Snape was sat on a chair, dressed only in his trousers (which were quite well- fitted and showed the Captain's form off to great advantage, Harry thought) and his white shirt. The shirt was currently being unbuttoned by the Captain, and Harry quickly averted his eyes from the expanse of pale skin that was being exposed.

Snape looked at him with disdain. "I assume you have no idea what I want you to do, boy," he said.

"N-no, sir," Harry managed to stammer as he stood there, holding the bucket. "I've never done anything... like this, sir," he added, hoping the Captain would get what he was trying to say.

"I see," mused Snape, but Harry wasn't sure if the man had quite understood. "Then I suppose I'll have to instruct you, won't I?"

Harry's eyes snapped up hopefully to the Captain's face. Did he mean what it sounded like? Or were they still talking about the bath? He couldn't tell. He drew a deep breath and said softly, "Yes, sir. Please teach me. Everything," he added. He couldn't be much more transparent than that, could he? Something about Captain Snape made Harry want to surrender completely.

Snape's eyes narrowed as he looked at Harry, as if considering. "We shall see if you can learn," he said enigmatically. Then he shrugged off his shirt.

Harry gazed at the man's lean yet powerful chest. He wondered how the skin would feel under his fingers... then he blushed crimson as he realised that Snape was now removing his trousers. He'd never seen a grown man naked before. As the trousers dropped to the floor, there was no way he could stop himself from looking at the Captain's cock. It looked huge, though it wasn't even hard, so much bigger and thicker than Harry's. He realised he was staring and forced his gaze back up to the man's face.

The Captain was looking amused at Harry's staring. He started to say something, then stopped. He indicated the bucket. "Well, boy, I haven't got all night and the water's getting cold. Get a sponge and get to work."

Harry looked around, and saw a soft sponge and a bar of soap. Snape instructed him to start with his back, so he got the sponge wet and walked behind the man. His hands were trembling.

"Don't make the sponge too wet or it will drip on the floor," instructed the Captain.

Harry nodded, and after applying some soap to the damp sponge, raised it to Snape's shoulders. His broad, strong shoulders.

"Get on with it, boy," Snape urged, and Harry swallowed hard, and swiped the sponge carefully across the Captain's skin. He tried his best not to let rivulets of water drip down the man's back. He soon figured out just how much water to get on the sponge so that it was wet enough, but didn't drip. He hadn't realised that he was concentrating exclusively on Snape's back until the man said dryly, "I think you can move on."

"Sorry," muttered Harry, and blushed more as he looked down at the part he had to wash next. He managed it, though, probably not as thoroughly as he should have done, but Snape didn't comment. He tried not to touch with his hands; not that he didn't want to, he just didn't know if it was allowed. Through it all, he was still hard as a rock. At least the man couldn't see him, which would be a problem as soon as Snape turned around.

"Dry my back, then come around to the front," instructed the Captain.

That was what Harry had been dreading. He moved the bucket, then came around to the front of Snape. He wet the sponge again, carefully keeping his eyes averted, and brought it up to wash the man's chest and neck. Accidentally or not, though, out of the corner of his eye he caught a glimpse of Snape's cock; was it his imagination or was it slightly larger than it had been? Could the man be attracted to him? This thrilled Harry and frightened him at the same time. He knew he was completely at the Captain's mercy. And he liked it.

Harry washed lower, and he must have been doing an adequate job as the Captain only murmured occasional comments and didn't seem angry at all. He still kept his eyes firmly on more neutral parts of the man's anatomy.

But that couldn't last forever. Harry washed lower, dabbing at the man's lower stomach as slowly as possible. He was quite obviously stalling, and Snape noticed.

"Hurry up, boy," he snapped. "Are you frightened?"

"No, sir," whispered Harry, taking a deep breath and looking for the first time directly at the Captain's cock.

It was huge. He'd never seen one up close before, other than his own, and the difference was amazing. He moved the sponge, carefully running it lower, holding his breath. He didn't know what he was supposed to do, so he tried wrapping the sponge around the length, and moved it up and down. The Captain made a soft sound, and Harry jerked his hand back, worried he'd done something wrong. He looked up quickly, and Snape's eyes were closed. Then they opened, and looked down at Harry. "Continue," he said, his voice deeper than ever. The way it sounded made Harry's own cock jump. He was still painfully aroused, and this wasn't helping.

He looked back down, and he gasped slightly; there was no doubt now, the Captain's cock was definitely larger. And starting to rise. He bit his lip and wrapped the sponge around it carefully, stroking like he had before. As he stroked, the length in his hand grew even bigger and harder, and Snape was visibly breathing faster. He kept at it, since the captain didn't tell him to stop, and he quite liked the feel of the cock under the sponge. In fact, he really wanted to feel more, to stroke without the sponge in the way. The sounds that Snape was making, the way the man was breathing... Harry really liked it. His own cock was throbbing now, and Harry was sure if he just rubbed against something the slightest bit, he would make a mess in his trousers.

Harry chanced a glance up at Snape's face, and almost moaned. The Captain's eyes were closed, and his mouth slightly open, and he was most definitely enjoying himself. A sense of power came over Harry; though he was serving Snape, doing his bidding, he had the ability to give him this pleasure. Harry had the feeling that he would enjoy being a cabin boy, if his duties included this every night.

The Captain was openly moaning now, and Harry took a chance. The sponge wasn't really cleaning him any more, and he quickly dropped it back in the bucket and wrapped his hand directly around the hard length. It felt so good; heavy and silken hard and hot in his hand. He couldn't even close his hand around the thickness, but it was immeasurably easier to stroke now. He slid his hand up and down, and it was both different and the same as stroking his own.

"Impertinent boy," said the captain, but the words were wrapped around a deep moan that made Harry weak in the knees.

"Sorry, sir, I couldn't help myself," said Harry softly, eyes fixed on the erection in his hand. "Do you wish me to stop?" He didn't stop stroking, though.

"No," came the soft answer, so Harry continued. After a moment, he felt a strong hand in his hair, and he looked up. Snape's deep black eyes gazed down at him, heavy lidded and soft with need. "Don't stop."

Harry nodded as much as the hand fixed in his hair would allow, and concentrated on his task. He knew from his own explorations that he liked an even pace, speeding up toward the end. He tried that, and the Captain made a strangled sound, gasping, "God, yes..."

Then there were two hands in his hair, almost painful, and the Captain was gasping, and then he climaxed, long pulses of hot liquid covering his stomach and Harry's hand.

After Snape seemed to be finished, Harry took up the sponge again and began to clean up the mess he'd inadvertently caused. The man's voice, steady again, startled him when he spoke.

"You've done that before?"

Harry shook his head. "Only to myself," he admitted, blushing.

"I didn't ask you to do that," Snape said, and he sounded a bit unsure.

"I wanted to," Harry explained. "I liked it."

The Captain laughed then, a genuine sound that Harry really liked. It also went straight to his own unsatisfied arousal.

"It did seem that way."

Harry looked up, and the captain was pulling on a long nightshirt. "Did I please you, Captain sir?" he had to ask.

"I would have thought that much was obvious," Snape said, almost smiling.

Harry couldn't help but smile shyly back. "I just wanted to be sure."

"You've gotten yourself all wet," observed the Captain.

Harry glanced down at himself. "I'm sorry. It's not bad, it will dry quickly."

"Nonsense, you must get out of those wet things," Snape commanded.

"Yes sir," replied Harry automatically, and he said, "Here, sir?"

"Yes, Harry, you will stay in my cabin as long as you please me."

Harry took a deep breath, hoping the man would turn away, do something else while he disrobed, but the Captain just watched him patiently, not moving. He removed his clothes quickly under the watchful eye of the Captain, blushing more as each piece of clothing was removed. Finally, he stood naked in front of the man, still aroused, and there was no way to hide it. He stood, not sure what to do next.

"You really did like touching me," Snape said, almost wonderingly, letting his eyes rake over Harry's exposed body, lingering on his rock hard cock.

"Yes, sir," Harry admitted, eyes on the floor.

Without looking up, Harry could tell that the man had stepped closer, and he shivered with anticipation.

"You please me, Harry," Snape said hoarsely. "You're very pretty."

"I... I am?" asked Harry. He looked up and almost drowned in the man's dark eyes.

"Yes, Harry. The prettiest cabin boy I've ever had. And the only one who... presumed to do what you did," Snape added.

"I... I'm sorry, sir, I just thought you would like it," Harry stammered.

"I did, clearly," said Snape, and there was amusement in his voice. Then his voice dropped to the low, sensuous note that had aroused Harry in the first place. "I'd like to touch you, do the same for you. Would you like that, Harry?"

Harry let out a small gasp as he realised what the man was asking. He licked his lips; he wanted this, so much, but... "You can do whatever you want, Captain, it's your ship and your word is law. Sir." He liked that as well.

"I know, but I don't like to force anyone," said Snape softly.

"Oh," said Harry quietly. He blushed even more, but finally said, "I'd like that very much, Captain."

Now Snape really did smile, and he reached out to brush a stray hair off of Harry's forehead. He frowned. "Where did you get this scar?" he asked.

Harry's hand went automatically to his forehead. "I've no idea, sir, I've always had it." It was a faint, lightning-shaped mark on his forehead, and no one at the orphanage seemed to have a clue where it had come from. Of course, they didn't have a clue as to who his parents were, either, as he'd been left on their doorstep one Halloween night.

The hand that had brushed at Harry's hair now went to the boy's back, pulling him up against the Captain. Harry gasped again, and the man's other hand was on his back, moving downward and sending shivers down his spine. He looked up, into dark eyes, and Snape whispered, "Relax."

Snape felt solid against him, real and hot and Harry couldn't help but rock his hips against him. The soft cotton of the man's nightshirt was maddening, giving just a bit of friction but not enough to satisfy.

The Captain laughed again, a deep sexy sound, and said, "Eager?"

Harry managed to nod, and stopped moving his hips. "I'm sorry sir, it's just that it aches, and you're so... so strong," he finished helplessly, unable to put into words how the man affected him.

"Lie back on the bed," ordered the Captain, and Harry couldn't move fast enough. He lay back, trembling with need and anticipation, looking up at the dark-haired man.

Snape just gazed at him for a long moment, then said roughly, "Spread your legs, boy."

Harry moaned and complied instantly, getting even harder though he hadn't thought that was possible. Being exposed like this, in front of the powerful man, made him nearly climax without being touched. He wished Snape would touch him, though. Soon.

Then the Captain moved, climbing onto the bed with the grace of a cat, until he was kneeling astride the boy's body, his legs straddling one of Harry's. Harry whimpered, looking up at Snape, and he wanted anything and everything. Snape put his hand on Harry's chest, gently, and moved it down slowly. "Lovely," he whispered.

Harry tried not to arch up demandingly, but it was difficult. He had never imagined feeling like this, how good it would feel to be at a man's mercy. He loved it. Having to wait, needy, only able to take whatever the Captain was willing to give him... he knew it sounded strange, but it was exactly what he wanted.

Finally, Snape wrapped his hand around Harry's aching arousal. Harry gasped; he had been hard for so long that he thought he would explode immediately, but Snape stroked slowly and irregularly, keeping him right on the edge of release. Harry looked up at the dark-haired man; Snape was looking at him intensely, his eyes fixed on Harry's face, pumping the boy's cock.

Harry tried his best not to whimper like the desperate boy he was; but no one had ever made him feel this way, and it was better than he ever could have imagined. "Please," he found himself saying, not really knowing what he was asking, just wanting.

"Do you like me touching you, Harry?" Snape whispered, and Harry could only nod shakily. "I like to touch you. I like to make you feel this way."

Harry moaned desperately, arching up sharply when the Captain continued, "I want to do so many things to you."

"Oh god yes please!" cried out Harry, and Snape took pity on him at last, evening out his strokes and running his free hand over the boy's torso.

The pleasure hit him then; blinding, agonizing, heart-stopping pleasure and Harry thought surely he would die. He felt his release splash over his chest, and still the Captain stroked, wringing every bit of seed from him.

Harry collapsed back to the bed, not even aware that he'd arched up off it, and tried to catch his breath.

Snape shifted, lying down on the bed next to Harry, and looked down at him. "Well?" he asked, looking faintly amused.

Harry looked up at the older man. "That was..." words failed him and he just smiled.

Snape smirked down at him. "That's just the tip of the iceberg, as they say."

"It gets better?" Harry asked in shock, unable to comprehend it.

"Much better," assured the Captain.

"Wow," whispered Harry.

Harry drifted off to sleep, and Snape tucked a blanket around them both.