WARNINGS: Shota-ish, dub-con-ish!

A Lesson in Manners

Choppy waves pitched the mighty ship Brittania back and forth on the open sea, to an unpredictable and unsettling rhythm. Her Captain stood on the starboard side, gazing into the approaching storm and contemplating the bad turn in the weather. Captain Kirkland was a clean and tidy man for a privateer. He had once been a distinguished gentleman in his native England, and still held himself to a high standard of good etiquette and neatness. His coat was impeccably groomed—a rich, deep blood red shade in velvet, trimmed in black satin. The fastenings and buttons were real gold, and his elegant coat and black plumed hat contributed to his authoritative air. Captain Kirkland seemed completely at ease so near the railing, and to see him gazing so challengingly at the approaching storm, one would never guess he could not swim.

"We're in for rough seas," the grizzled quartermaster said idly as he approached. Captain Kirkland spared him a quick glance but then raised his chin in defiance.

"The Brittania is as solid as her namesake is powerful. The magic is so thick in the air I can practically see it. Mark my words—this storm is not of nature. It is meant to deter weaker-willed men," Captain Kirkland replied. Though the quartermaster saw nothing in the air but the ocean spray and the rolling fog, he shrugged his shoulders in agreement. He trusted Captain Kirkland's words on magical affairs. Theirs was a ship that had never been plagued by rats or vermin, they possessed a fresh water barrel that never ran dry, and the captain's ancient, mysterious ever-changing map had led them to fabulous treasures as a matter of routine.

It was not a ship for cowards, though. Captain Kirkland's quests often made their frequent run-ins with the Spanish armada seem like child's play.

"The crew is ready for whatever may come," the quartermaster said simply. The Captain's gloved hands tightened on the railing, and unbridled ferocity shined in his bottle green eyes. His lips twisted into a frightening grin.

"Excellent," he replied. A zigzag of lightening exploded so close by that they could smell the electricity. Captain Kirkland chuckled in dark amusement, and his eyes glowed like those of a tiger in the blackness of the jungle. Too battle-hardened to be rattled, the quartermaster merely sighed and returned to his duties, leaving the Captain alone once more to stare down the storm with his glowing green eyes and his defiant smile.

They were tossing so violently on the sea that Captain Kirkland was not entirely sure which was was up anymore. He clung to the rigging alone—his crew had abandoned the deck to the waves and huddled down below. Only Captain Kirkland refused to retreat, and so it was only him that saw the transition from sea storm to paradise. Brittania groaned as she crested a massive wave, and practically sighed in relief when she righted herself finally and glided into the clearest, bluest waters Arthur had ever seen. They positively glittered.

The Captain recalled the words that had appeared on his map a few months prior in curling, beautiful script:

The second star to the right

Shines with a light that's rare

And if it's Never Land you need

Its light will lead you there.

Never Land. As a lad, Arthur had devoured every atlas that came his way. He poured over maps until his dreams spiraled in sepia ink along the gentle curves of coastlines. Yet never, in all his reading, had he ever found mention of a place called Never Land. His was an adventurous heart, and his faithful map (as always) had led him true to his heart's desire: the grandest adventure of all, the treasure of all treasures, a reserve of magic and mystery...Never Land.

Half-stumbling, his magnificent coat utterly drenched and weighting him down, Captain Kirkland stumbled to the half-destroyed rail. He slid a bit on the sea-slime soaked deck and righted himself dazedly. The sunshine in this new world was a living, playful thing that reflected off the glitter in the water and dazzled the horizon line. Beyond the tranquil waters lay an island—heaven?—with pearly white beaches and dense jungle beyond. The tree line of this jungle—but perhaps it was Arthur's imagination?—seemed to be subtly moving, as if the land beneath was breathing in gentle slumber. The island gradually rose in a crescendo until it became a distant, shadowy volcano harmlessly puffing smoke rings against a cloudless robin's egg blue sky.

Captain Kirkland, usually quite eloquent when the mood suited him, could find no words.

"Are you a pirate?"

Arthur's green eyes bugged in surprise and he spun wildly, slipping again, struggling to free his blade. His efforts earned him a merry, rather boyish laugh of delight.

"You are a pirate! You even have a sword!" the boy chirruped in delight.

"Show yourself!" Captain Kirkland demanded, swinging his blade around as he rotated, seeking the invisible owner of the voice.

Gently, like a feather landing, the toe of a soft shoe alighted on the tip of his blade. Dumbly, Arthur's eyes trailed up the toe to the slender ankle, to the hard swell of a calf muscle, to the knee and the bare thigh (just a little plump), to a young man's torso (what kept those leaves in place?), and finally, a grin and a gaze full of mischief under wind tousled blond hair.

"Err..." Captain Kirkland grunted in disbelief. He'd seen many strange things in his day, but never before had he seen a floating man-child.

"Is that your name? Captain Err? That's a funny name!" the man-child taunted, again with a laugh that was sounding less boyish and more obnoxious by the second.

"That's hardly—I'm not—you're floating!" Captain Kirkland finally managed to choke out in surprise. The boy flashed a wicked grin and dropped quite suddenly, like a cannonball, and his sudden weight caused Arthur's blade to bend in a dangerous arc. Then, with a crow as his battle cry, the boy launched into the air, laughing like a wild thing, and the Captain's own blade whipped him smartly in the face. "Bloody hell!" Arthur pressed his gloved hand to his cheek to see the smear of blood. His sword went clattering away and the Captain stumbled onto the soaked deck. Quite suddenly, his hat was whisked off his head. Cursing in a rage, the Captain groped blindly along the deck for his blade. All the while, his hat danced merrily just out of his reach, held aloft by the irritating flying boy.

"I'm Alfred—Freddie for short—Ruler of Never Land!"

"You're a bloody nuisance, that's what you are," Arthur replied angrily. Slowly, Arthur's men were beginning to surface, and helpfully, one pointed a loaded musket at the boy.

"Do I shoot 'em, Cap'n?" he asked. Captain Kirkland had been able to see magical creatures his entire life. He knew that (while sometimes annoying) it was never wise to anger the magical folk.

"Hold your fire!" he ordered, as he finally managed to right himself and secure his blade. He glared up at the flying boy for a second, and in a flash, had caught him by the ankle. The boy tugged (his strength was certainly not human) but Arthur had the advantage of gravity weighting him firmly down.

"Lemme go!" the boy said in a pout. He was a big lad—fourteen or fifteen, perhaps—but flying about in the air obviously made him seem slighter than he was. Despite his size, his ankle was delicate and Arthur easily trapped it in the circle of his fingers.

"My hat, if you please," Captain Arthur said with a mocking little bow. Alfred frowned mightily, as he'd clearly thought of the pirate Captain's hat as a fine treasure.

"But I want it," Alfred replied with a pout.

"Then you may land on my ship and request to wear it for a spell—as a young gentleman would do if he had any manners at all," Arthur advised.

"What's a manner?" Alfred asked, still pouting, and still clutching the expensive hat against his bare, sun-kissed chest.

"Oh, manners are like secrets—secrets that only very smart young lads know. I could teach you manners, if you'd like. You do seem rather clever," Arthur praised with an insincere smile. He was shrewd and quick-witted—it was these traits more than his skill with a blade that had kept him alive for so long in his chosen profession.

"I am the cleverest boy in Never Land," Alfred boasted. Arthur smiled, a little more sincerely, at the realization that the boy's vanity was his weakness. Confident he had control of the situation, he released the boy's slender ankle casually, as if he'd never meant to grab it in the first place.

As he'd predicted, the boy landed gently on the deck, like a feather floating down on a breeze, and grudgingly extended the hat. Arthur's equally shrewd crew smiled in the way all adults do when a child has been particularly gullible. Arthur accepted the hat graciously and restored it to its place atop his shaggy, wet blond spikes.

"Ah, thank you, my boy. Now, would you like to wear it?"

"Yes!" the boy said in delight, floating up a few inches as he did so and extending his hands excitedly. This made him even in height to Arthur.

"The first manner I will teach you, then, is please. It is a manner that is good for getting what you want. Try it for yourself and see," The pirate Captain said. Alfred's blue eyes lit up in excitement, but it was clear he did not quite know how to begin. Arthur prompted him. "I would like to wear your hat, please. Just like that, lad."

"I would like to wear your hat, please!" Alfred said in a rush. He was delighted when Arthur flashed a bright smile (only sinister because of his still sluggishly bleeding cut) and whisked the hat back off his head. He extended it to the boy as if he'd been compelled to do so.

"Why of course, my dear boy. What lovely manners you have," he praised. The boy rather roughly stuffed the hat onto his own head and shot into the sky gleefully, somersaulting about in the air and skillfully managing to catch the feathered hat on his head each time it fell off. He landed only moments later, blue eyes glittering with curiosity and excitement.

Despite the stinging whelp on his cheek, Arthur decided the flying boy was not so bad after all. Having grown bored with Arthur, however, the lad approached his quartermaster and eyed his large, wickedly curved blade. The quartermaster stood tensely, his eyes on Arthur for advice on how to respond.

"Let me play with your sword, PLEASE!" This time, Alfred's use of the word was very loud and energetic—a command. Arthur smiled in amusement and nodded his head ever so slightly at his quartermaster. Looking rather nervous about it, the bigger man reluctantly passed over his blade.

Alfred was gone in a flash of fairy speed, up into the crow's nest, where he waved the sword about wildly and fought imaginary foes in the air. The Captain and the others watched in fascination.

"What sort of demon is he?" the quartermaster asked in a low voice, though all the crew strained to hear him.

"Not a demon—elven blood, perhaps, if I had to guess...he's too large to be a pixie...though when I grabbed his ankle, pixie dust came off on my hand," Arthur explained, showing his faintly glittering palm as evidence.

"As I've never before seen either, I'll just have to take your word on it," the quartermaster replied. The crew were mesmerized by him. No doubt, Arthur realized, it was their first magical sighting. He adapted to the sight more quickly.

"Alfred, lad, are you hungry? Thirsty perhaps?" Arthur called. The boy was down in a second, eager for a new sort of amusement.

"I want your coat now, and any tasty food you may have, and all your nectar. Please." Alfred demanded. He floated in the air with a wide stance with a hand on his hip, sword extended casually, hat dipping over his sparkling blue eyes and making him look every bit like a boy playing dress-up.

Arthur liked the boy's spunk...even as he wanted to spank it out of him. He smirked, however, and undid his coat. The crew watched on, clearly unsure how long this game would continue, and if their Captain was acquiescing out of fear or because he had something else up his sleeves. Most of them suspected the latter.

"Grubbs—fetch the plate of scones from my cabin, if you please, and a bottle of honeyed mead."

There was the catch. All the crew knew that the Captain's cooking was bloody awful. It would likely poison the annoying brat...or at least give him a tummy ache he wouldn't soon forget. Alfred's face, meanwhile, transformed into a mask of pure delight.

"I love honey! Does your honey come with stinging bees?"

Arthur smiled as he extended his jacket. "Not at all, lad. You'll soon see. The sweetest of mead you could wish for."

"I like this manner very much. Teach me another...please," Alfred ordered. The boy was sliding his arms into Arthur's coat, not the least deterred that the sleeves hung too long and his shoulders were not broad enough to support it. The weight of the heavy, soaked garment weighted the boy down, and he landed on the deck with feet encased in soft, curled toe moccasins that seemed unaccustomed to touching anything but air.

"Yes, manners are quite rare and wonderful. Here is another. When someone gives you something after you've said please, you reply with thank-you. It will make others like you and wish to be your friend."

"That is a good one. I don't have any friends. It's awful lonely sometimes. Aside from the pixies, and the mermaids, and the Indians...I'm all alone in Never Land. That is how I came to be King. Hey! Are you good at telling stories?" Alfred asked, taking a step towards Arthur in eagerness.

"Aye, lad, I can spin a tale. Have you already forgotten your new manner, though? I gave you my coat."

"Oh! Thank-you!" Alfred said quickly, beaming up him from beneath the brim of the hat.

"You are quite welcome. Here comes the food and drink. I'm sure discovering pirates is tiring business for a young lad. Won't you join me in my cabin and refresh yourself?" Arthur offered. He saw the boy's previous excitement dim into wariness.

"The pixies told me not to go into your ship. They said you can't be trusted because you're all grown-up."

"Oh, did they? I do understand their worry...but this causes quite a problem. You see, it is a perfectly silly thing to fret over, as you and I are now the very dearest of friends. How ever will you try my food and drink, and hear my story, if we cannot dine together in my cabin? I am afraid that is the only way it can be done. Otherwise, we would lose our manners."

Alfred thought about it long and hard for all of thirty seconds, and then decided (quite foolishly) to ignore the warning of his true friends.

"Pixies are rather silly. They worry too much!"

"Why of course they do. A strong pirate Captain such as yourself has nothing to fear from the likes of me. Why, I can't even fly," Arthur replied. He did not remind Alfred that once inside his cabin, Alfred's ability to fly would be far less of an advantage. Sensing the trap, Grubbs smiled and let Alfred see the tray of appetizing looking (though they were far from tasty) scones and the fancy looking mead bottle.

"I want to learn more manners, and you are my friend now. Let's go!" Alfred commanded, following after Grubbs in a hopping sort of motion, as the weight of the coat kept dragging him downwards. With a wink at his smirking crew, Arthur followed after his unwitting captive into the bowels of his ship.

Grubbs delivered the food and then bowed to Alfred before taking his leave.

"Enjoy your vittles, Cap'n!" he said merrily. Alfred puffed up with delight at this game of pretend, and graciously waved Grubbs out with a sweeping sword gesture. Alfred did not notice Arthur lock the door behind Grubbs, and he thought nothing of it when Arthur crossed to the large port window and slyly locked it, too. That business finished, Arthur pulled out a plush chair for the boy.

"Allow me to hang the coat to dry," Arthur offered. He did not refer to the coat as his, but he was not quite willing to call it Alfred's either. Uncaring, the boy slipped out of the sea-soaked coat and swiped the hat off his head. Arthur hung them on his coat rack after righting it—the storm had caused quite the mess in his cabin. As Alfred dug into the food and drink heartily, Arthur moved about picking up books and righting items that had been knocked out of place. When the cabin was tidy again, he sat opposite the boy and watched him guzzle the mead. Arthur wondered what effect drink would have on the handsome boy. He knew what effect he wished it to have, but one could never tell with magical folk.

"These...taste funny...like that time I ate those clods of dirt," Alfred mused. Arthur grimaced in annoyance, and his mask of geniality almost slipped.

"Yes, well, they go down better with the honey mead. Would you like some more?" Arthur offered. Luckily, his few bottles of the stuff had not broken in the upheaval of the storm. Alfred drained the first small bottle, already looking quite rosy-cheeked, and greedily accepted another.

He was half-way through it when he tried to stand, and rather comically, stumbled flat to the ground.

"My stomach...it doesn't feel very good..." Alfred groaned.

"Oh no, I'm afraid this happens sometimes when you drink a great deal of mead. Don't worry, my boy. You may lie down in my bed, if you like, and I'll tell you that story," Arthur offered slyly. Woozily, the boy agreed and allowed Arthur to lift him onto his luxurious bed. The boy moaned in delight at the feel of the silk sheets and the softness of the feather lined mattress.

That innocent little moan brought everything into crystal clear focus. He knew exactly what the treasure of Never Land was...and it was for his enjoyment only.

"Take off that mess of leaves, boy. You will dirty the sheets," Arthur ordered. Meek and drunken, the boy pushed at the delicate leaf garment until it partially ripped and revealed his soft cock. Arthur swallowed thickly and smirked in delight at the plump thighs, still just a bit chubby with baby fat. The boy was practically hairless, and what little hair he had was a soft and silky blond. Arthur helped the boy fully shed the leafy garment (held together by what seemed like silky spider webbing) and eased off his boots. Alfred began to wiggle against the sheets, rubbing his bottom to and fro and sliding his feet around until his soft shoes slipped off and he was entirely nude.

Arthur undid his belt and pulled it off quietly, not wanting to distract Alfred from his tactile exploration of the bed.

"Mmm...so soft," Alfred slurred drunkenly. Arthur removed his shirt and climbed onto the bed. His pants sagged on his bony hips a bit without his belt. With said belt, he coaxed Alfred's unresisting hands up to the iron brace running between the top posts of his bed. He made quick work of knotting the boy's hands comfortably in place, and Alfred seemed far to out of it to even question why his hands were suddenly restrained. He peered up drunkenly at Arthur with a sweet, trusting smile. The pixie dust glittered on his bare skin beautifully.

"Story now?" Alfred asked innocently, even as Arthur began to trail his hands down the boy's slender chest, over his little pudge of tummy, and between those soft, sun-kissed thighs.

"I'll tell you the story in a little bit, when you've earned it. Right now, I need you to spread your legs for me, poppet...please," Arthur said almost mockingly. Alfred tilted his head rather cutely at the word and innocently, trustingly, let his thighs part for Arthur's hands.

With a devilish grin, Arthur leaned between the parted legs and placed a tiny kiss on the inside of each fleshy thigh.

"Thank you...ever...so...much," he said between kisses. Alfred grinned.

"That tickles!" Arthur smiled and nuzzled around Alfred's soft cock more firmly. The boy had an average cock, a bit on the thicker side, naturally uncut. Arthur flicked his tongue out to get a taste of the boy's skin and was delighted to discover the pixie dust tasted like sugar, only better.

Of course it did. The boy was a treasure to rival all others, after all.

Lapping up his unique taste now, Arthur mouthed his soft penis and his sack. He nose went lower, bumping against the boy's tiny little pucker. Even this place smelled and tasted unusually sweet. Arthur flicked his tongue out and lapped at the virginal opening, pushing insistently against the ring of muscle that had never been forced to yield in such a way before.

"Mnngh!" Alfred grunted—whether it was in surprise or pleasure Arthur couldn't tell. Alfred was likely too drunk to get aroused, but Alfred's youthful body was responding in other ways. His fingers flexed tellingly against his palms. His hips kept floating up off the bed to push his bottom closer to Arthur's probing tongue. He made such delicious little noises.

Arthur had managed to work his tongue in with steady persistence, and Alfred was quickly adjusting due to being so relaxed from the mead. When Arthur had sufficiently lubricated his passage with saliva (he kept pushing it in with his tongue and pulling back a little to spit on Alfred's hole), he pulled away completely and moved to the boy's pert little nipples. He showered each nub with attention, never nipping or biting, but keeping everything soft and warm and wet. When Alfred was to the point of arching his nipples up desperately, Arthur abandoned them, too. He pressed a finger to Alfred's pouty lips.

"Suck on my finger," he ordered. Looking perhaps a bit confused, Alfred agreed. His perfect lips fell open and he pushed his head forward to suckle the digit with enthusiasm. When the finger was slick, Arthur withdrew it and put it immediately to Alfred's tight hole.

"Easy now," Arthur coached, gently pushing the finger inside. Alfred whimpered, his eyes blinking rapidly as he became confused. His hips lifted rather suddenly off the bed, trying to retreat this time, but Arthur moved with them and kept the finger inside. Alfred tried to twist away a few times more, and in doing so, actually managed to take the digit in deeper and loosen himself slightly. Arthur slid in another finger. Now Alfred was using all his powers of flight to twist away from the heavy invasion, but restrained by his hands, all he did was give Arthur a rather lovely view of his youthful, glittering body bucking and writhing beneath Arthur's hands.

"Stop! Please!" Alfred cried, as he began to grow upset. Big, beautiful tears pooled in his expressive eyes. Deciding to still play their little game, Arthur obligingly removed his fingers. They'd done their job anyway. Arthur instead began to stroke Alfred's cock, bringing it to half-mast. The boy blinked away the tears and sniffled. "T-thank you," he stuttered, still believing his manners gave him some control over the pirate above him.

"Now I'll teach you a new manner. You'd like that, wouldn't you, lad?"

"But...I thought...nngh!" Alfred's protest was cut off by his pleasured little grunts as Arthur's firm grip sped up on his shaft. "S-story?" he managed to ask, even as his hips began to buck and his thighs floated up off the bed to wrap around Arthur and draw him closer. Arthur grinned devilishly.

"Stories are rewards for good lads who learn all their manners. Are you ready to learn a new one?"

Arthur drank in the sight of the boy. His cheeks and delicately pointed ears were flushed red with desire. Tear tracks ran from the corners of his eyes, glittering with their natural saltiness and the sugary glitter of pixie dust.

"O-okay," Alfred agreed, still sniffling and gasping for breath.

"When someone gives you food or drink, you must eat it all, and not complain about the taste. What you said about my scones earlier was quite unmannerly. However...if you eat and drink it all and then say thank you, like a good lad, you'll get a sweet dessert as a treat. You like sweets, don't you my boy?"

"Yes!" Alfred moaned, almost nonsensically. The pirate was still stroking him to hardness, and Alfred had never felt so funny and wonderful at the same time before. If this was part of learning manners, then he would be the most mannerly boy in all of Never Land.

The Captain stopped stroking him, and Alfred keened in need.

"More, please!" Alfred begged. With a grin, Arthur gave one more quick tug and kissed the side of the boy's straining erection.

"There will be more of that later. Now what do you say?"

"Thank you," Alfred replied dutifully, his breathing beginning to return to normal as his orgasm slipped away. He floated above the bed almost completely now—only his head remained pressed against the cool pillow. He tightened his legs, trying to pull the Captain closer so he would have something to rub against. He needed more of the rubbing. He needed it desperately.

"Now, remember your new manner. When someone gives you something to eat or drink, you finish it all—and you don't complain about the taste. Then you say thank you."

"Will you give me more honey nectar?" Alfred asked innocently, clearly dazed and unfocused on their conversation. The lad was more interested in trying to rut against the Captain's hard abs.

"No, lad, something even better than nectar," Arthur promised with a wicked grin. He crawled up Alfred's body, forcing him back against the mattress. He undid his pants finally, releasing his aching manhood. "Now open up, pet. Lick and suck—no biting! Drink all of it, and what must you say when you're all done?"

"Thank you?" Alfred answered confusedly. He'd never done such a thing before, but he did want to hear a story, and the pirate had promised more rubbing if he was a good boy.

"That's right, lad. Give it a lick. Get a taste for it. Go on," Arthur encouraged, pressing his tip against Alfred's plump bottom lip. The teen's tongue poked out ever-so-slowly. His resulting grimace was adorable. Arthur's devilish smile widened in amusement. He could see the whining about the taste written all over the boy's expression, but he was a fast learner and he remembered his new manners—not to complain about the taste of someone's offering.

He began to suckle on the very tip, lapping at the pre-cum like a kitten drinking milk. Arthur braced himself against the headboard and moaned in pleasure. He resisted the urge to close his eyes and toss his head back, because he didn't want to miss a second of those beautiful, tortured blue eyes and sight of the puffy, slightly chapped lips working reluctantly around his head.

"Eat more. Suck it down harder," the pirate commanded in a deep graveled tone that demanded obedience. Frightened, the boy opened his mouth wider and Arthur rolled his hips forward.

"Mnnf...ngh!" Alfred's garbled speech could not be understood, but the vibrations of his protests hardened Arthur's cock even more and made the pre-cum dribble out faster. Panting harshly as he slowly fucked the boy's mouth, Arthur finally pulled out completely and let his wet dick slide over the boy's tear-stained face.

"You didn't get it all, boy. Lick every last drop," Arthur taunted. Frustrated by the fact that the cock was slipping over his face, Alfred petulantly chased it with his tongue all while Arthur chuckled darkly. Finally, with a childish glare, Alfred caught the tip and licked it as hard as he could, sucking down the little pearls of moisture defiantly. Arthur's balls constricted, but he held back. He wanted the boy to milk him from a different orifice, though the urge to shoot his semen all over the boy's pretty face and make him lick it all off his own skin was almost overwhelming. Another time.

Captain Kirkland was a man of discipline.

"Now what do you say?" the pirate asked sweetly. The pouting boy glared, his bottom lip sticking out cutely.

"I don't like this manner!"

"Oh, but you did so well with it. If you finish, you'll get something sweet. I promise you'll like it."

Alfred scowled, but then his apple cheeks blushed and his blue eyes darted shamefully to the side.

"Thank you," he grumbled in a small voice. Captain Kirkland tapped his dick lightly against the boy's chin.

"Say it properly or don't say it at all. Thank you for what?"

Alfred turned his head to push away the teasing cock.

"Thank you for feeding me!" Alfred half-shouted. Captain Kirkland's grin stretched from ear to ear.

"Ah, there's a good lad. But that was just an appetizer. The main course is yet to come. I owe you something sweet now, don't I?"

Alfred's greedy blue eyes lit up in anticipation.

"Please! Please!" he demanded. Chuckling, Arthur slid off the boy and fetched the bottle. This completely rare spoil had been lifted off a Spanish ship they'd encountered on their way to Never Land. It was not the first taste of chocolate Arthur had enjoyed, but he was still very careful of his stock.

Some moments, however, called for a little celebration. The drink was better warm, but the sweetened liquid chocolate would still taste delicious even in its current, lukewarm state.

Arthur unstoppered the bottle and carefully tipped it over with his finger blocking the mouth. When he righted the bottle and withdrew his finger, it was coated in the thick, expensive beverage. A treasure for a treasure.

He returned to the bed and offered the finger to the boy, who eyed it doubtfully. His erection was beginning to soften between his legs, but Arthur's was still throbbing painfully. Alfred took a tentative lick for a second time, but now his blue eyes sparkled in delight. His tongue slid all over Arthur's finger wantonly. When all that remained was the saltiness of Arthur's skin, Alfred turned his attention to the bottle.

"More please!" he insisted. Smirking, Arthur repeated his earlier action and offered his finger again. Once more, Alfred licked his hand clean, chasing down every stray drop and even licking between Arthur's fingers for any taste that might have escaped him like a hungry little piglet.

Arthur took a large swig of the chocolate, letting it pool in his mouth, and offered his lips to the boy. Alfred met him eagerly, his little pink tongue diving in fearlessly and clashing against Arthur's chocolate soaked one. As they kissed, Arthur moved his saliva-slickened finger downwards again, slipping it once more into the boy. The pirate swallowed up Alfred's grunt of surprise and worked the finger in deep as he sucked the boy's tongue and pillaged his sweet mouth. They kissed until Arthur could bear it no longer. Alfred tasted too sweet naturally, and the chocolate made Arthur insatiable.

Arthur moved his wet, open mouthed kiss downwards, to the boy's nipples, to the softness around his belly button, and lastly, to his half-hard penis. Alfred bucked against his face and pulled at his restraints, but he could not free himself. With the Captain's mouth around his cock like that, he didn't really want to go anywhere anyway.

If this was his reward every time he drank the pirate Captain's nasty saltiness, he'd gladly do it again and again. He'd even eat more of the dirt scones and say a big thank you after choking down each one.

Rather than resist the fingers pushing into his bum, this time Alfred allowed it. The fullness felt strangely satisfying as the wet heat around his penis sucked and swallowed at him. He wanted more, and thanks to his manners, he now knew exactly how to get it.

"More fingers in me, please!" Alfred commanded. Arthur smirked around the boy's dick. He still thought the word "please" was an order and not a request, but his cockiness was adorable to the bold pirate. Arthur added a third finger with pleasure and resumed his sucking. The boy's bucking became wilder again, and for the second time, Arthur pulled away just before the boy's release.

Now Alfred's young cock was rock hard and weeping. At the loss of sensation, Alfred's eyes filled with tears once more.

"My...down there...it hurts...please...please..." clearly, the boy didn't even know what he was begging for from Arthur. He'd know soon enough, though.

"I will make your little cock stop hurting, but you have to let me put my cock in you, poppet. That's the only thing that will make you feel better," Arthur said soothingly. Alfred displayed impressive flexibility as he spread his legs wide and offered himself to the Captain. Arthur drank in the view for a heady moment and then lined himself up. With a sigh of relief, he slid in with painful slowness, watching Alfred's expression the whole time.

The magical boy's mouth fell open in a soundless scream. His eyes—gods those eyes!—glazed over. A little drool began to pool at the corner of the boy's mouth and drip down his chin. Then the moment of shock passed and he practically squealed, like the little piglet Arthur had compared him to in his head. Laughing in dark amusement, Arthur began to thrust into him, completely ignoring the boy's gasping, moaning, screaming and begging in an unending stream of noise that could surely be heard all throughout the ship.

It figured the loud-mouthed boy would be loud in bed, too.

The Captain skillfully angled himself to give the boy pleasure, and after just a few blunt thrusts against his prostate, the boy's orgasm exploded between their bodies. The hot, white sticky fluid just kept spurting and spurting, and the boy just kept screaming and screaming, in both pleasure and pain.

Completely undone, Arthur rammed deep inside the boy's passage and claimed his new treasure. Alfred's hungry little ass milked him, trying to suck every least drop from his softening dick. The pirate collapsed onto the boy when he was done, still deep inside and worn to his very bones.

For a long moment, they panted in unison together. Then, Arthur recovered enough to loosen the boy's abused wrists. Much to his surprise, the boy eagerly embraced him, running his callused hands all over Arthur's chest and shoulders and finally settling around his bony hips. The pixie boy buried his face in the crook of Arthur's neck and Arthur felt the wetness of tears against his skin. When he pulled back, however, Alfred was giving him a watery smile.

"I did good learning my manners, d-didn't I? P-please tell me my story now?"

With a soft smile of genuine affection and pride, Arthur rolled off the vulnerable boy and pulled him up against his chest. Alfred clung to him, and winced slightly as the shift in motion caused Arthur to slip out of him with a wet little plop. Alfred straddled the Captain's hips and sighed in relaxation as the pirate lazily petted him down his spine and over the plump curves of his buttocks.

"Aye, lad, you've earned your story and done very well. This story begins on the open seas, where a fearless pirate Captain—"

"Did he have a red coat? And a black feather hat?" Alfred asked with childish innocence. Arthur grinned down at him.

"Aye. And he sailed on the most magnificent ship that has ever been, or ever will be. Her name...was Brittania."

Arthur was hardly ten minutes into his story before the pixie boy was asleep against his chest, and the skies beyond the ship's port window darkened in response to his slumbering. Ruler of Never Land indeed.

"Sleep well, my little King. Tomorrow..a whole new adventure awaits us," Captain Kirkland promised with a satisfied smile.

A/N: I wanted to take a break from The Sophomore Year, though I'll likely update it a little later tonight. I left this rather open ended in case I wanted to continue the slutty adventures of Captain Kirkland and his pixie-boy.

God, my mind is a really dirty place. But fun! Oh so much fun. As always, reviews are love, and you may request more Never Land scenes if you'd like. I would die of happiness if someone gave me fanart of this crossover. *imagines such artwork dreamily*

Hope you all enjoyed!