The rain was falling upon the cobblestone roads, seeping into cracks, as though even the liquid was afraid of the boots clapping against the stones. The man was silent save his walkinf, but it did not matter, as no one would speak to him nor question his right to be there. He was dressed quite normally for the small town; red cloak, black boots, navy blue pants, and a white puffy shirt with an equally white neck-tie. Green eyes watched for any hidden enemies as he walked, blond hair pressed against his cheeks and neck. He was intimidating, but well blended into the town.

Suddenly, a sign caught his eyes, drawing him under the lip of a quaint wooden tavern. Staring up at him was his own face. Wanted, it read in thick, black letters, dead or alive. Reward! $250,000.

"They got the wrong side of my face." The man mused, smiling a sadistic smirk. "Come now, am I really that cheap?"

With a pencil, he wrote in scrawling, thick letters, I'm not that cheap. $1,000,000! Then, satisfied with his work, he continued walking towards his destination. It did not take long. The walls were a grey stone, the door a deep, brown wood, and the memories of distant laughter overwhelmed him, but even so, he knocked at the door. Moments passed, and he was about to retreat, before he heard the creaking of old wood.

"Alfred…?" A tired, shaky voice whispered from inside, causing the pirate to smile wickedly. "Oh, it's you, Arthur..."

"Oh come now, is that any way to treat your dear friend?" Dangerous intentions dripped form his words like the blood he had surely spilled on the way to the house. "May I come in? You know I don't like to be kept waiting."

The blond in the doorway looked down at his bare feet as he backed away, allowing the pirate in, who waltzed into the living space as though he owned the place. (Although, if questioned, he would claim to own the man who OWNED the house)

"So," Arthur drew out the vowel as he sat on the couch, using his most charming—if not seductive—smile on the lilac-eyed blond. "What have you been doing while I was away?"

He took in the sight of the blond busying himself in the kitchen, his eyes hidden from the pirate. His pants were grey, tattered. Easily slipped off. His shirt was similar, but black. Also easily slipped off. "I've been... Busy." Unbeknownst to Arthur, he was smiling despite the situation. "A friend's been helping me clean up this place, getting it ready to be an inn again."

"And just who might this friend be?" Matthew winced at the dangerous, jealous tone in the other's voice. Many times that voice had been heard, and the things that followed it never ended well for Matthew. Why could he not keep his mouth shut?

"He's no one." Matthew replied quickly, jumping as the tea kettle began to screech, and quickly poured out the water into a cup, trying not to let the tears of horror escape. He placed the tea-bag in the cup, before curling his fingers around the edge of the counter, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears.

Suddenly, a warm body pressed against his back, making him gasp. Warm hands traveled up the front of his shirt, kneading his skin. As things escalated, as Matthew knew they must, they ended up in the bedroom, as Matthew knew they would, and soon, he was crying unstoppably.

"Hush..." Arthur cooed harshly in his ear, fingers walking up Matthew's bare chest. "It'll be over soon."

And it was, much quicker than usual. Matthew was thankful, but at the same time disappointed. When it was all said and done (though much less was actually said than what was done), he was always left feeling dirty, used, and discarded.

"Imagine, if you will, that I do love you." Arthur pulled his pants back up, and buttoned his shirt again. "What would I say... Right now?"

If Matthew heard the foreign tone of uncertainty in the pirate's voice, he didn't say anything about it. Instead, he pulled his sheets up to hide his naked skin, cheeks tainted pink from a blush that had permanently taken root since Arthur had arrived.

"You never said anything before." Matthew said, a little ice biting into his words. "Why should it be any different now? I'm just an easy meal, aren't I?"

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Arthur stood after pulling on his boots, and swiped the feather of his hat under the bare-skinned boy's nose. "Next time I have time to kill, I'll visit you again." He leaned in, pressing a heated, although emotionless, kiss to his lips. "See you in time, my easy meal."

Matthew whimpered as he heard the door slam shut, and squeezed his eyes closed, curling in on himself, the self-loathing beginning, as he knew it always did after.

Later, the pirate arrived on his own ship, his crew not asking any questions as to why, in the middle of a raid, he had insisted on sailing to the small, seemingly unimportant port town. He gave the orders to set sail again, before disappearing into the cargo hold.

"Well hello." Arthur wore his seductive smile as he opened the brig door. He was met with silence from the chained brunet on the wall. "Is that anyway to treat company?"

The curly-headed brunet looked up with malice in his deadly green eyes, letting out a series of curses and words of hatred in a foreign tongue. Laughter filled the hold as the brig door closed, leaving some to wonder just what Captain was about to do to the prisoner. However, a certain blond, curled up in a bed in an abandoned inn, knew all too well.

Chapter two in the making