Stolen from just everyone
Jul. 13th, 2010 03:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
captsparrow4ever
WTF?
Here's the sample text. (Sorry, f-listers, I tried to put it behind a cut but it doesn't seem to be working for me today.)
Andrew was grateful that his eyes were so swollen from the beatings he had received that he didn’t see Sato’s final moments. Hearing his screech of agony then grunts for mercy was bad enough. He never knew exactly what had happened but his imagination conjured up enough ideas that he didn’t need to know. He wished fervently that Sato had succeeded in killing him then taking his own life. It would have been a much kinder fate, all in all. Though he didn't know for certain, he supposed that at least a fortnight had passed since Chang had sent him below with Sato, his orders barked in Chinese so that Andrew had not been able to understand them. Still, he trusted both men and had gone willingly with the servant.
Another rough hand twining in his hair woke him from sleep. At least these men didn’t reek, Andrew found himself considering as the man pressed his member against Andrew’s lips. Half-choking, he fought to do as the man bid, his jaw aching with the effort. The man muttered something then chuckled and Andrew felt his face grow hot with shame even though he understood nothing. When the man peaked, Andrew had no choice but to swallow the man’s seed. As soon as the man staggered out the door, though, Andrew dragged himself to a far corner of the room and vomited, ridding himself of even the few bits of food he had been given. He slumped down and prayed they would leave him alone for a while.
Somehow, he must have fallen asleep. When he woke, it was to the sound of cannon-fire and the rough shaking of the ship under attack. _What do I do?_ Andrew asked himself, trying to keep from whimpering. The sounds and sensations brought back the attack on the Moon-catcher and he wept for the thought that he’d never see Sam Pendleton again. It was only when he heard the thud of boots on the deck above him and the ship began to list to the port that he realized the junk had been captured. He glanced around for a hiding place. Maybe if he wasn’t found he could escape somehow. There was precious little in the hold he occupied, though, and nowhere other than the darkened corners—one of which he already clung to—to hide.
He heard men’s voices suddenly and caught a snatch of conversation as one passed the door but didn’t understand it. Fear, cloying, noisome fear, strangled him suddenly. It was happening again, as it would happen every time, he knew now, as long as he was considered a valuable commodity. If they just treated him as they did any sailor, put him to work as the others, or put him to the sword, he wouldn’t find this so objectionable. But he was good-looking and small compared to most of these men. It made him easy prey.
The latch on the door rattled and the hatch began to swing inward. Andrew closed his eyes and prayed, _Please don’t find me. Please don’t find me._ His eyes opened when he heard the deep voice rumble.
“What have we here?”
(This is from a gay historical romance I'm working on. Original fic.)
