Chapter seven - Yes, I made Ryan Ross a prostitute. Sorry, Ryan.

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"Alcohol may be man's worst enemy, but the bible says love your enemy."

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Ryan Ross was a prostitute.

We had scooped him up last time the ship had docked, and he had been loitering around with us ever since. I had yet to speak to him and I didn't really know anything about him, but one thing was for certain, and that was that he was a prostitute.

He seemed to fit in with the crew, but there was just something a little off about him. The easy, lazy way he would drape himself over whoever was nearest as they talked, the glances at each crew member he would sneak when he knew they would be looking. The way his tongue would flicker out and just dash over his lower lip as he watched us talking.

And of course, the unforgettable moment when he strolled in while we were eating and casually slipped into the conversation that if anyone had a couple of silver pieces then he was game for tonight, or any other night, for that matter.

Yes, I was onto him.

—

It was unexpectedly easy to get used to Ryan's presence around the ship. I was a little apprehensive about him at first, having only heard terrible stories of prostitutes from my family in the past, but I was soon put at ease when James explained to me that he used to be a member of the crew and was actually just a relatively ordinary fellow who needed some cash.

Then he proceeded to explain the circumstances that allowed Ryan to make money off of almost every man on the ship.

Whether it was their true alignment or not, almost all of the ship's crew was partial to homosexualuality. I was on a homosexual pirate ship.

I wasn't quite sure how to feel about this, as I had always had it drilled into me that homosexuality was a terrible, terrible sin, so grave it was not even to be spoken about. But then again, so was killing, and I was turning a blind eye to that in order to keep my place on the ship, so I didn't see why this should be any different.

Everyone was happy with Ryan's presence- he was sweet and sarcastic and barely mooched any food off us, and as long as he was getting to sleep in someone's bed with them every other night, he was kept sated. Having an extra person on board wasn't a problem at all.

Until he drank all the rum.

I hadn't been aware of how unhealthily dependent on alcohol the entire crew was. Within half a day, James was moaning to everyone, Patrick was sharp and irritated, and even Ray was a little more uptight than usual. The Captain seemed pretty much the same, but I noticed that he see suddenly held some tension in his shoulders that hadn't previously been there. There was less poise in his movements.

I would have thought that Gerard would be the one most affected by this disaster- rum was his life force- but he seemed to be coping frighteningly well. In fact, he wasn't acting any different at all. If anything, he seemed a little happier with things. I was a bit frightened. When I questioned him about it, he simply shook his head and smirked knowingly at me.

I took this as something to be very worried about and made a note to talk to James about it later- but James was too busy whining about being too cold and too hot and not having enough rum to listen to anything anyone else said. I fell asleep that night with James mumbling miserably about having to drink fermented lemon juice across the room.

—

Gerard's voice was more of a slurred hiss than a whisper when he woke me up. "Fraaaank." His mouth was uncomfortably close to my face and I could feel his damp breath on my ear. It was not an ideal way to start the day.

"Frank! It's three in the morning. Get up!"

It wasn't an ideal way to start three in the morning either. I grumbled and batted him away. "What?"

Gerard laughed then interrupted himself with a hiccup. "Franklin," he drawled, long and drawn out.

I sat up slightly, propping myself up on one elbow and scrubbing at my face with my free hand. "Are you drunk?"

"Of course!" he laughed quietly. "Come on!"

"Come on where?" I groaned.

"Wanna show you," he mumbled, tugging at my arm. "Frankie. You're lanky."

"My god, how drunk are you?"

"I dunno," Gerard said lazily. "I love rum. You want some of my secret rum?"

I wrinkled my nose. "Not really a fan of the stuff."

"When you're drunk the sound of everyone complaining just fades into the background."

I paused. James was being as talkative as ever, despite having no entertaining topics at all. Patrick was snappy and only a thread away from kicking people with his wooden leg. Even the captain was being sharper with us than usual. And Ryan had been promiscuous as ever, copping a feel from everyone he could whenever possible. "Rum's suddenly sounding good," I said quickly.

—

"I have so much booze," Gerard smiled, clumsily pulling four bottles out from under his bed. "I love booze." He popped the cork out a bottle with his teeth, then gulped down more alcohol than I could probably manage in an entire night. He pulled off the bottle and wiped his mouth on his sleeve, then sighed. "I love booze," he repeated.

"Yes, that's wonderful." I said. "Am I actually going to get any?"

"Sure," Gerard slurred, giving one of the bottles on the bed a shove in my direction. It wobbled and toppled over, but I was quick to catch it before the glass hit the floor.

"Maybe I'll just take this one instead," I muttered, gently prising the half full bottle from Gerard's loose grip. I gulped down a couple of sips, but I wasn't used to drinking anything save for a glass of fine wine with dinner, and the liquor burned my throat. I coughed and gagged.

"You gotta- you gotta hold your breath," Gerard said. "Hold your breath b'fore you can smell it. Then it don't taste as bad."

I copied him and held my breath, and I was actually a little surprised when it worked and the burning dulled. "Oh," I murmured. "Thank you."

Gerard tipped his head to the side in a weird movement I think was intended to be a nod, so I nodded back. Gerard reached for the bottle again, but I lifted it away out of his reach, then swiftly held my breath and took a swig myself. The technique worked consistently, and I kept it up for several hours, taking down gulp after gulp until I was almost as intoxicated as Gerard.

I hadn't been drunk before, so it was a whole new world for me. I felt warm and buzzing and everything was weird and out of focus, and my irritation with the other crew members had dissolved almost completely. It was easier just to laugh at the stupid things Gerard said, and soon we were talking like we had been friends for years. That phase didn't last very long though, as soon Gerard had subtly taken back his liquor bottle and returned to gulping down the alcohol like he'd just found water in a burning desert. It didn't take long for us to both be so lost to the rum that we could barely form coherent sentences.

Barely.

Somehow we both ended up on the floor, leaning against the side of the bed. Through our random drunken mumblings, Gerard had let slip that he wanted to take me to Parade Island because I was special and I had the mark of the scorpion. This was probably one of the weirdest things that anyone had ever said to me, but I didn't question it, I just listened. This had something to do with what Gerard and James had been talking about earlier, I knew it. Something to do with the kids Gerard had 'tried' and hadn't worked, the kids Gerard had fucked up.

I genuinely could not decide whether I didn't want him to fuck me up or whether I actually did. In the moment, there was something oddly romantic about having him destroy me. Harshly beautiful. I wondered what he'd done to the others. What he was going to do to me.

I listened to him talk about how I was special. Apparently I was "the Scorpion Child or some shit," he had said as he poked the birthmark on my neck with his fingertips. "You're my key." He spoke with something fragile behind his voice, but something passionate. He wanted me, he had said, eyes locked with mine. "I want you."

I was completely inebriated, and slightly obsessed with the idea of him destroying me, so I didn't protest at all when he tucked my hair behind my ear and started mouthing at my neck. I held onto his jacket as he pushed me against the wall, and I didn't even question it, barely even noticed the transition from mouth on neck to mouth on mouth.

It was a clumsy kiss, tainted with the bitter sting of rum, but I still held on to him like a lifeline, letting him press me into the side of the bed like I was just his to be used. He tugged at my shirt, urging me to break the kiss and let him take it off. "I want you," he mumbled against my mouth. "Frank."

I'm sure it was the alcohol, of course it was the alcohol, but I really fucking wanted him as well. "Yes," I breathed. "Yes, okay."

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lmao yeah frank's totally hetero what u talkin about