His chin is grabbed harshly, facing the two deep green eyes that have been getting on his nerves for the past ten minutes. The smirk on the man's face does not vanish. The grip of his hand on Louis' chin does not soften, his thumb at the side of his...
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The light in the room is dim. The water still warm and calming. The Captain keeps kissing him, hungrily and with force. Is not that Louis does not like the kiss, it's the fact that he does that he hates.
His hands are on Styles' shoulders, his torso naked against Louis' clothed one. He feels a warm and satisfied feeling that keeps spreading inside the blue-eyed boy. He has never been kissed like this, was never taken by surprise but he loves it so much. Too much for his own good.
He can feel Styles' length getting interested against his tummy, and his hands itch to grab it. Their tongues battle each other, teeth clashing from the movements. He tastes like cigars and rum, and Louis likes it.
The Captain's grip on his waist only gets harsher, pressing Louis against his body as much as he can. How is it possible to love kissing somebody this much when you have only met them twice? How is it possible to feel so comfortable in his arms when the only thing they have done is get on your nerves and treated you as an old piece of clothing?
Louis' breath hitches when Styles' gives a slow suck to his tongue, the Captain's hand inching lower to his bottom. He hates the thought he gets to what those big hands can do to him.
So he ends what he is doing, and bites harshly the Captain's lower lip 'til it draws blood. The second the curly-haired man groans and pulls away Louis scrambles out of that bathtub and does not care that his rags are drenched and just runs to where they first put him when he got on this ship.
Styles gets mad. He gets out of his bathtub grabbing a towel and curling it on his hips, letting the rest of his body air dry. He smirks when he feels the metallic taste in his mouth, touching his lower lip with his index finger.
He squeezes the base of his shaft from the uncomfortable feeling of being hard. That little brat should know better. If he starts something then he should finish it. No one leaves him hanging, and no one bites him and runs thinking they will be safe. Louis is no exception.
He dries his hair with a towel and then grabs a string to put them up in a bun. Then he grabs his discarded trousers on the floor, not caring to put on underwear. It is late at night, but he does not care if he has to burn down his whole ship so he can get back at Louis.
No one before has blatantly rejected him, let alone this way. If Louis thinks he is special the Captain will make sure to show him his place. With that thought he leaves his cabin, giving it another final look. Louis will feel his rage.
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