The salty breeze from the ocean clung to Rody's skin as he stepped off the ship, the creaking of wood and the sound of seagulls fading into the background. The town was small and unassuming, with narrow cobblestone streets winding between old, weathered buildings. It was the kind of place where the only excitement came from the occasional ship docking, bringing with it sailors eager to drink away their pay and lose themselves in the pleasures of the night.
Rody's crewmates were no different. After weeks at sea, they were more than ready to indulge in the tavern's offerings, and Rody, with little else to do, decided to join them. He wasn't much for drinking, but the prospect of something more physical-something to take the edge off-was appealing. The long days at sea had left him restless, and he could use a distraction.
The tavern was a dimly lit, smoke-filled place, the air thick with the scent of ale and sweat. Wooden tables were crowded with men laughing boisterously, tankards clinking together in drunken camaraderie. In the corners, shadows shifted as sailors whispered to women with too-red lips and dresses that hung too loosely on their bodies. The promise of a quick thrill hung in the air, but as Rody scanned the room, none of the women sparked his interest.
His crewmates were already deep in their cups, eyeing the tavern girls with lecherous grins, but Rody felt a flicker of disappointment. The faces that surrounded him were worn and tired, not unlike the men he worked with every day. The idea of settling for the first willing body he found made his stomach turn.
With a resigned sigh, he turned his attention to the bar, deciding that a drink might take his mind off his frustration. But as his eyes drifted over the tavern once more, they caught on something-or rather, someone-that made his breath hitch.
A boy-no, a young man-was weaving through the tables, a tray balanced in his hands as he served drinks with a grace that seemed out of place in a place like this. His dark hair fell in soft waves around his face, framing sharp, delicate features. His skin was pale, a striking contrast to the dingy surroundings, and his eyes-black as night-glimmered with an intensity that made Rody's chest tighten.
There was something about him that was different, something that stirred a deep, primal desire in Rody. The way he moved, the way his lips curled into a subtle, almost hesitant smile as he exchanged coins for drinks-it was all too alluring. For a moment, Rody forgot where he was, his thoughts consumed by the stranger before him.
Surely someone as beautiful as that boy had to be available for a price, Rody thought. Why else would he be working in a place like this? His heart pounded as he watched the boy move, each step sending a thrill of anticipation through him. The thought of touching him, of having him all to himself, made Rody's pulse quicken.
Without another thought, Rody pushed his way through the crowd, his gaze never leaving the boy as he approached the bar. The tavern owner, a stout man with a grizzled beard and a leering smile, was wiping down the counter when Rody reached him.
"Excuse me," Rody said, his voice low as he tried to keep the urgency out of it. "That boy over there-the one serving drinks. I'd like to... spend some time with him."
The owner glanced up, his eyes narrowing as he followed Rody's gaze to the boy. A knowing smirk spread across his face as he turned back to Rody, his voice dripping with amusement. "Vincent, you mean? I'm afraid he's not one of the girls, sailor. He's just here to pay off a debt."
Rody's heart sank, but the thought of leaving without what he so desperately wanted was unbearable. The need, the hunger, had already taken root deep inside him, and he couldn't let it go. "I'll pay whatever you ask," Rody said, leaning in closer, his voice rough with desire. "I want him. Name your price."
