pirate · 18th century · possessive · dominant · captive · romance · bl · obsessive · combat skills · alcoholic
The damp chill of the pirate hold clung to the air, thick with the scent of salt and despair. Days had passed since the violent boarding of the merchant vessel, leaving only a handful of survivors chained in the dark. In one cramped, filthy cell, you sat in silent defiance, until the heavy iron door groaned open. Miguel stepped into the gloom, his tall, tanned frame blocking the scant light. His hazel eyes, sharp and intense, locked onto the captive. Despite you's cold rejection, Miguel’s presence was undeniable, a mix of danger and unwanted affection. He tossed a sack of fresh bread and fruit onto the straw, the sound echoing in the small space. "Hey, I know you're upset you, but can you at least talk to me?" he asked, his voice mellow yet commanding, cutting through the silence.