Hi all! This is my first post, which is sort of terrifying if I'm being honest. I have a lot of OC characters mainly in fantasy settings that I love to write about. If people like this one, I have another chapter with Milo and Joseph I can share.

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The heat of Salin Bay never kept Milo West from doing his work, but today he was especially hot, working below deck on the Seawolf helping the Steward prep the meal cargo. It was a difficult job even on a cooler day. As he lifted a hefty bag of grain into the loft above his head, it slipped from his shoulder and burst open, the rice pouring from the seam and scattering about the compartment.

“Shit,” Milo said.

“West!” Cried the Steward. “This is the second time this week –”

“I know, I know,” Milo said, darting to the bag, tearing it open from the top so he could shovel the rice back inside. “I’ll clean it up.”

“Why can’t you get the Bosun to hire help?” he said. He spoke Salini, a rough dialect full of slang that Milo could barely keep up with. “You shouldn’t even be down here, you should be on deck counting crates with the Purser.”

Milo chuckled. “Look around you, Master Steward,” Milo said. “If the Seawolf had the budget for another crew member, they’d spend it on a rigger.”

It took Milo a while to track down all the stray rice – the Steward was particular about the cleanliness of the galley, part of the reason he was hired on again and again – and by the time Milo was finished, his hands and back ached. He took the ladder to the deck, rolling out his shoulders and heading for his next task: inventorying the wine. The air filled with the cries of seagulls and the rhythm of the mild waves of the Albores Sea. The gem-glitter of the water blinded him for a moment and he put up a hand to cover his eyes.

“Morning, Master Bosun,” he said. He waved at the Bosun as he passed her, and she gave a sharp nod in return, her face emerging from beneath her cocked officer’s hat.

“Eyes up, sailor,” she said. “Master Blake is inspecting his goods this afternoon.”

“Oh, is that so?” Milo tried not to grin. Master Joseph Blake owned the Seawolf, leasing its crew to sell wine and other goods he brought with him from the Southern Reaches. He also usually returned with more personal needs that required tending. But the Bosun didn’t need to be privy to that. “I swear to be on my best behavior, ma’am.”

Below deck, the wine would get less direct sunlight and hopefully not turn to vinegar in transit. Joseph had been experimenting with some varieties that supposedly handled the heat better. They had a small crate of bottles on deck to see how they fared.

Milo counted crates, ticking off the different varieties and making sure they matched his list. But there was one missing, marked M-Valencia. He cursed, searching for it. The storage deck was fully loaded, and he had to move several heavy boxes of jam and pickled vegetables to find the missing wine, tucked back against the far corner. How it had gotten back there Milo could not guess. He got to work shifting the container so it wouldn’t be overlooked when it was unloaded later, a tedious, rough job as he had to move a dozen boxes to get the small crate out.

“What are you doing?” Emmett's voice came from above. Emmett was the ship’s Purser, one of five standing officers on the Seawolf and Milo’s closest friend. While Milo had no desire for a leadership position, being the Purser’s Second had its benefits; inventorying the wine was not one of them, but it kept food in his belly.

“Someone put this crate of wine all the way in the back corner,” Milo said, grunting as he dragged the box to a place beside the others. “Finally got it moved out, took nearly an hour.”

“Please tell me it’s not marked M-Valencia.”

Milo’s heart sank. “It is.”

“Damn it Milo, you should’ve asked me about that first.” Emmett came down the ladder, his tawny hair glinting in the beam of light that fell down the hatch. “That’s the case Master Joseph’s sending off to the mayor. It’s traveled all the way from Fes. They’ve got a special cart coming for it. They’re keeping it in the back so it doesn’t have a chance to sit in the sun.”

“Ah,” said Milo. “Shit.”

“Aye,” Emmett nodded.

“Suppose I should move it back.”

“Suppose you should.”

“And I take it you’re not helping me out?”

“I’ve got Captain Francisco breathing down my neck about paying out the sailors from the last trip,” Emmett said. “I thought you’d be done. I was coming to ask you for help since you’re better at matching names to faces.”

“Ah,” Milo said again. “Right. Guess I should get to work, then.” Emmett patted him on the shoulder sympathetically. “You should put on your officer’s hat. The Bosun said Joseph’s about.”

“That’s unfortunate,” Emmett sighed. “It’s too hot for all that rigamarole.” Emmett left him to the task of reorganizing the crates yet again.

Milo completed his tally and climbed out of the underdeck, sweating and sore.

“West!” Milo spun around as the man stalked down the dock toward the Seawolf. It was Master Joseph Blake. “Where’s that report? I’ve got a load of apricots coming and I need to make sure we’ve got space on the Loom to take them.”

“Right here, sir,” Milo said, handing him his share of the Purser’s report.

Joseph turned the page over in search of something. “This isn’t the full report. Where’s the brining containers? The copper?”

“That’s on Purser Emmett’s form,” Milo said. “He’s around here somewhere –”

“I didn’t ask for Emmett, did I? I asked for the report.”

“Yes, sir,” Milo said. “Give me a moment, I’ll bring the form.”

Milo tracked down Emmett. He sat in the Captain’s office, counting out pay and separating the money into envelopes.

“Master Joseph needs your tally. He seems worked up about it.”

“Damn it, Milo,” Emmett said. “Made me lose count.” He shuffled the notes back into the pile.

“I’m sorry,” Milo said.

Emmett sighed. “It’s fine. I’m not done with the full report yet. I never finish that one until Joseph’s brought the rest of the cargo.”

“He says he can’t bring it until he knows what we’ve got on board now,” Milo said.

“The nerve,” said Emmett. “He’ll have to wait until I’m done with this, then.”

“He’s not gonna like that,” Milo said.

“That’s his problem. Are you gonna tell him, or should I?”

Milo sighed. That wasn’t a real choice, and they both knew it. “On my way, Purser. Sorry for the interruption.”

He found Joseph waiting at the end of the dock. When he broke the news to Joseph, the man was furious.

“I don’t have time for these excuses. Tell the Purser I need the report now.”

“It’s not finished,” Milo insisted. “I’m sorry sir, but he’s got to prioritize sailor pay. He might not have what you need until the morning.”

“He expects me to get up at the crack of dawn for this?”

A little fire of anger burned in Milo. The last-minute nature of Joseph’s load of apricots was the problem here, not Emmett.

“With all due respect, Master Blake,” Milo said, “It creates some challenges for the Purser if there happens to be additional inventory two nights before a departure.”

“Are you talking back to me, sailor?”

Heat rose in Milo’s face at the accusation. “No, sir.” He looked askance.

“My office. Now.” Joseph pointed down the gangway.

Milo swallowed. “Yes, sir.” Milo walked past the man, half expecting a shove as he went along. Joseph stalked behind him, his footsteps echoing down the dock.

When they reached Joseph’s office, Milo stepped aside so Joseph could unlock the door.

“It’s infuriating to deal with the Seawolf when half the time you and Emmett don’t follow explicit directions,” Joseph said. He shoved Milo inside and threw the door closed behind him. “Do you have any idea how much work I have to do? The logistics that go into transporting wine and fruit on a journey that takes half a month in good weather?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Milo said, but Joseph was already backing him into the office. “That does sound frustrating –”

“Do you think I’m just sitting here in my office, twiddling my thumbs in this wretched heat, waiting for you to do my job for me?”

“Of course not, sir –” his hips bumped into Joseph’s desk.

Joseph put both hands on either side of Milo and leaned in, his voice simmering. “Do you think you can have that attitude with me and get away with it, little sailor?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Milo said again, panting as he smelled the sweet tamarind scent of Joseph’s cologne, and beneath that, the animal maleness of his sweat. He flushed, his excitement building. “I didn’t mean to upset you, sir.”

Joseph put a hand to Milo’s throat, lifting his chin to meet his eye. Joseph’s brow was dark, his eyes a deep brown, skin mellow, cheekbone sharp and defined. Milo’s pulse quickened further at the powerful hand on his jaw. “I think you need to help me with this tension. Don’t you, Milo?”

“Yes,” Milo said, nodding furiously.

Joseph pressed against him and Milo moaned when the man bit down on his ear. He could feel Joseph’s hardening cock at his waist – Joseph was much taller than Milo, and the older man had to bend to put his mouth to the side of his face. He bit down hard on Milo’s neck.

“Sir, you’ll leave a mark,” Milo panted.

“Will I?” Joseph put a hand to Milo’s lower back and brought his hips forward, grinding against him. Milo gasped. “That sounds like your problem, West.”

“But people will know –”

“If you insist on using that sweet fucking mouth of yours, you’d better do it on your knees.”

Milo did as he was told. He dropped before Joseph, taking the man’s slacks down as he went. Joseph grabbed Milo by the hair and pulled him onto his cock. Milo tasted his sweat and precum, immediately growing wet with excitement, the man’s cock hardening in his mouth as it slid over his tongue. Milo took him deeper and moaned around his flesh.

“That’s better,” said his boss, flexing his hips, shoving his cock deeper. Milo salivated as he felt Joseph’s foreskin pull back. He brought a hand up and cupped Joseph’s balls gently, then massaged his shaft as he took in more of him. Joseph groaned.

“You’re always so fucking eager, aren’t you?” Joseph said.

Milo nodded, muttering a yes around a mouthful of cock. Joseph pulled his hips back, then pressed forward again, humping Milo’s face. Milo loved this part, feeling Joseph growing harder as he flexed inside Milo’s mouth. Joseph pumped in again, hitting the back of Milo’s throat, and Milo gagged and salivated until spittle ran down his chin.

But just as Milo was getting a steady rhythm going, reaching the point where he knew Joseph would no longer be able to stop fucking his face, Joseph pulled his cock out and drew Milo’s head back. Milo looked up at him expectantly, his blue eyes meeting Joseph’s own brown ones.

“On your feet,” Joseph said.

Milo stood.

“I want something new from you,” Joseph said. Gruffly he spun Milo around, put a hand on his back, and bent him over the desk. His sailor’s cap rolled across the wood and hit the deck on the other side.

“Sir,” said Milo. A shock of nervous energy ran through Milo.

Joseph put a hand to Milo’s face and pressed his cheek against the wood.

“I want to fuck that pretty little ass of yours,” his boss said. “Have you ever been fucked that way, Milo?” But before Milo could respond Joseph yanked his slacks down and Milo let out a little cry of surprise. Joseph pressed his cock against Milo’s ass, then lifted him until Milo was on the tip of his toes. He ran a hand up Milo’s inner thigh.

“Sir…” But it felt so good that Milo paused, panting, unable to think as his boss leaned in, whispering into Milo’s ear.

“Do you think you could cum if I stroked you off while fucking…” Joseph reached the top of Milo’s inner thigh and paused.

Milo’s heart pounded in terror, in fear of rejection. He waited for the blow. He was already on the verge of tears, already preparing to bolt.

“What do we have here?” Joseph said. He stroked the hair between Milo’s legs. Milo moaned. “My my. You’ve been hiding this cunt from me all this time?”

“I’m sorry, sir,” Milo said, his heart breaking. Surely their affair was over. “I can leave.”

“What?” Joseph leaned against Milo, pressed gently into his slit with one finger. Milo gasped. “Why on earth would I want you to leave?”

Milo blinked, his heart raw with hope. “I just thought…”

Joseph tsked. “You think too much. No matter. There are plenty of ways to make you stop thinking. New ways, apparently.” Joseph’s cock slid between his legs and pressed against the wetness there. “Fuck,” Joseph groaned. “Milo, you’re so goddamn wet. I can smell you. Does sucking me off get you like this?”

“Yes, sir,” Milo answered.

“Are you going to be a good boy, and let me take this pretty little cunt?”

“Yes, sir,” Milo panted.

“There’s a good little employee,” Joseph said. He leaned against Milo and slipped his cock inside him.

Milo gasped at the feeling of fullness – when was the last time he’d taken a cock like this? – and Joseph plunged in, lifting Milo’s hips against him. He pumped in and out, slowly, stretching Milo around his cock.

 “Good boy,” Joseph groaned, panting as he fucked Milo against his desk. The drawers rattled. Milo moaned and writhed against his boss, twisting his hips upward for a better angle, feeling Joseph’s hips as they pressed against his ass, an absolutely stunning feeling of pleasure.

Joseph reached around in front of Milo, pressing his hand against his clit. Milo moaned at the feeling. “Do you think I can get an orgasm out of you, little Purser? Do you think I can make that pretty cunt cum for me?”

“Yes,” Milo said, nodding furiously.

“It’s Master Blake, or sir, Milo,” Joseph chided.

“Yes, Master Blake,” Milo moaned.

“Good boy,” Joseph said again, pounding into him. He rubbed Milo’s clit until Milo’s vision went white, and he could hardly breathe with the pleasure of it. “I’m so happy about our little discovery here. It’s like I’ve been rewarded for waiting to fuck my favorite employee.”

“Favorite?” Milo asked, something about this compliment filling him with pride.

“Of course,” Joseph said, leaning in, each phrase punctuated by a thrust. “My favorite. Little. Fucktoy. My perfect. Purser’s. Second.”

Milo grinned, pressing back against Joseph, taking his cock deeper.

“That’s right,” Joseph said. “Fuck me from behind, Milo. Show some enthusiasm. Be a good employee, will you?”

“Yes, sir,” Milo said, bending his knees and pressing backward, taking as much of Joseph as he could while Joseph stroked him. A brightness filled him as Joseph pressed, huffing, sweat breaking out on his brow. He felt the rise of pleasure, pearlescent and humming, and for a moment Milo lost the office, lost his place against Joseph’s desk, feeling only his boss’s cock filling him again and again, his hand pressing just so.

“Do you want to cum for me, Milo?” Joseph said.

“Yes,” Milo moaned.

Joseph paused, his hand still pressing against Milo’s clit, but he stopped pounding and Milo’s rising orgasm plateaued, waiting. “No,” Joseph said. “What do you call me, Milo?”

“Master Blake,” Milo said, desperate to continue. “I’m so sorry Master Blake. Please let me cum, sir.” 

“Much better,” Joseph said, grinning against his ear. He starting fucking him again, harder than ever before, that mix of pain and pleasure filling Milo’s body until he couldn’t think, until his heart raced in time with that building building feeling inside him. “Now be a good boy and cum for me. Cum, Milo.”

Milo cried out, and bucked against Joseph’s cock, Joseph saying “Good boy, that’s my good boy” over and over again as his orgasm arrived like sunrise, whiting out the horizon for a moment as it burned off the cold of night.

Joseph slowed as Milo flexed around his cock, chuckling against his face. “Did you like that?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What do you say, Milo?”

“Thank you, sir?”

“Very good,” Joseph said, his breath at Milo’s ear. “You deserve a tip every now and then. For services rendered.”

Milo grinned, his limbs relaxing as he slumped over Joseph’s desk.

Joseph pulled out a little, then pushed back inside with a groan. “Gods, Milo,” he said. “You’re so fucking tight. You make me want to dump my whole load inside you.”

Milo gasped. “That might… not –” he panted as Joseph pounded deeper, fucking him faster now, his rhythm leveling out. “Might not be a good idea.”

“Oh. No?” Joseph leaned down, pulling Milo’s earlobe between his teeth. “You don’t want your cunt filled with your Master’s load?”

Joseph fucked him even harder and Milo cried out, sensitive after his orgasm, brightness rising in him as Joseph moved in and out of his body.

“You don’t think you can handle taking my cum deep inside you, Milo?”

“I – I –” Milo couldn’t form the words, his thoughts disappearing around the feeling of Joseph’s cock inside him. He would take a full load of Joseph’s cum. He would take it again and again if Joseph wanted him to. But Milo felt Joseph lift his shirt up, felt Joseph take him around the ribs, his nails digging into Milo’s sides.

“Fuck, Milo,” he groaned. “As much as I’d love to fill this pretty cunt of yours –” he pounded harder, and faster, and both men groaned in pleasure – “This ass is just as inviting.” Joseph pulled his cock out, pressing his shaft against Milo’s ass, and Milo felt Joseph’s cock pulse against him as he came, his cum landing on his ass and lower back, hot and thick. Joseph panted, humping Milo as he emptied onto the younger man’s skin.

Joseph gripped Milo’s hips, gasping as he returned to himself. He leaned against Milo and the two men breathed together. Joseph’s hands softened, then flexed gently, massaging.

Joseph backed away, pulling up his pants. “Don’t move,” Joseph said. He crossed the room behind Milo, finding the water jug. He brought the water and a rag, using the dry end to wipe the cum off of Milo’s back before cleaning him with the wet end, the water immediately cooling.

This moment of unexpected tenderness made Milo’s eyes prick with surprising tears.

“I’ve got a fresh one for you, too. For your… um. If you want to clean up.”

This sudden soft shyness surprised Milo. He straightened, took the towel, and Joseph turned away as he wiped himself down with the wet cloth. When he was finished, Joseph bent down before him, and Milo gasped, not knowing what to expect –

But Joseph put his hands on Milo’s hips and kissed him gently on the stomach before pulling up Milo’s slacks.

Milo’s heart raced again, a sudden shock of tenderness filling him, and Joseph must’ve seen something on his face, because he lifted Milo up and sat at his desk chair with Milo in his lap, holding Milo against him. Milo realized suddenly that he’d never hugged Joseph before, not like this, and abruptly he was filled with a hunger for this kind of gentle intimacy, even as he received it.

“I want you to join me at my rooms tonight,” Joseph said. He pressed his face into Milo’s hair. “I’ll have them draw you a bath.”

“Sir, what if someone sees me there?”

“We’ll arrive separately,” Joseph said. He stood up and placed Milo gently on the ground. Stepping back, he examined himself in the mirror, straightened his kurta, and combed his hair down with his fingers. “You’ll bring me Emmett’s report.”

That thinly veiled excuse wouldn’t fool anyone Milo knew, but then again, the wealthy merchants who stayed at the same inn as Joseph might not care outside of decorum. Joseph would know that. He was choosing to risk this, for Milo. “Yes, sir.”

“There’s a good boy.” Joseph turned back to him, bent down, and kissed Milo on the cheek. “Run along, Purser’s second. Do your job.”

“Yes, Master Blake,” he said, and turned for the door, the slow cool of early evening meeting him in surreal splendor as he found his way back to the Seawolf.