Chapter Text
i. ARC 1: HIGH INFIDELITY
It wasn’t unheard of for a rival ship to be seized by the Buggy Pirates twice in a row. In a way it had become the Buggy pirate’s trademark, as its crewmates would often boast ‘no one escaped the buggy Pirates!’ So, all in all, it wasn’t particularly unusual when a disembodied ear was found tucked away behind some ignorant lapel, allowing the Buggy Pirates to expertly track the whereabouts of the ship that had narrowly avoided being sunk by circus themed cannons the day before.
Again, the situation was neither profound, or unique, save that the Buggy Pirates had more or less managed to keep their prey in sight of their scopes, leaving the ear to seek out other topics. I cannot stress enough that this was in no way remarkable or shocking. The only wild card here was that one of the crew members of the fleeing Sugar Saint had spent the better part of this cat and mouse chase loudly proclaiming to anyone who would listen, all the vulgar and outlandish acts that she would like to perform upon the Captain of the Buggy pirates: Buggy the Clown himself.
Now, there may have remained some plausible deniability had, in fact, the aforementioned ear not been reclaimed, whilst on said crewmember’s person. It had given the lot of them a fright when the disembodied ear had hopped forth from her well worn satchel and reattached to the top of the flashy pirate’s well sculpted jawline. Maybe it was the grease paint or maybe it was the conflict of emotion in Buggy’s eyes, but what he thought of the entire ordeal had been well concealed.
Now, it wasn’t entirely Pereira’s fault that they had landed themselves in the brig — after all, the majority of us say many a thing that we dare not in the presence of the topic themselves. You see: Pereira was relatively new to the Sugar Saints — a morally gray vessel filled to the brim with bounty hunters and their attendants, Pereira falling into the later category. She had only laid eyes on Captain Buggy for the first time the day prior, and it was safe to say she liked what she saw. And before she could think to regret it, she had ferreted her thoughts away in the minds of those she considered friendly. What was the harm in a little crass talk below deck? Every sailor, marine, pirate, and fisherman had boasted the same way in their days at least once.
Ethical questioning aside, Pereira now sat beside a number of her captured colleagues in a circus themed brig, performing her rendition of shaking in her boots. For this particular blabber mouth, that manifested as complete and unyielding silence. Strawberry hair was worried between calloused fingertips, and the nails upon those fingers were chewed past what was comfortable. Silence stretched out between the lot of them, perhaps nine individuals total.
“Well,” a lean built bounty hunter broke the silence, bumping their shoulder against Pereira’s. They had all been there when Captain Buggy had revealed he’d been listening in on them the past 24 hours via his stowaway ear. “Maybe he’s flattered. We’re not dead yet. And the rest of the crew got away…though I feel he may have felt catching up to you’d do well enough.”
The hunters apprentice shook her head furiously, embarrassed beyond measure. “I may as well have told this man to his face I wanted to keep his member as a pet. I’m murdered for sure.”
Several compatriots shuffled, flinching in second hand embarrassment. That was pretty rough to come back from. And the clown Captain didn’t seem like someone who took kindly to disrespect. He really didn’t seem like he took kindly to anything, flying into fits of rage at a moment’s notice, even in the midst of battle. The man was hardly measured or controlled.
A circus member walked in on their hands, flipping at the last moment to land on their feet, a set of keys perfectly landing in their left palm as they did so. Anything for a flourish. “Capti’n will see y’a now.”
An audible gulp sounded through the brig.
ii.
Captain Buggy was even finer a specimen than Pere remembered, sprawled across a hanging sofa in a mid-sized cabin. Spacious, for what it was, there was a bunk against the far right wall and a desk opposite it. A chaotic span of maps, etchings, and images coated the back wall, including a fair number of WANTED: CAPTAIN BUGGY posters with a variety of bounties listed, each more hefty than the last. The clown had recently refreshed his grease paint; his hat was thrown haphazardly on the desk, only a stripped bandana adorning his head.
The crew member who had escorted Pere wandered off, but not before securing our protagonist’s wrists behind them, tied to their ankles with rope. Luckily, the loops were loose enough that she could comfortably kneel. Her legs weren’t overly thin, but her curves were defined and she lacked any extra padding around her knees. Teal trousers were still soaked from the waves splashing over the deck as she’d been hauled aboard.
“So,” Buggy’s tone was measured, “I hear we’ve got a story teller on our hands. I love a good story.” There was a haughty lite to the statement, the knowledge of her intense attraction to him hanging in the air between them. God, what all did he hear? When had her words caught his attention? Pere hoped he didn’t think she’d been mocking him. His crew had drowned people for less. The distance between the two measured three, maybe four paces. And yet, it felt as though he was looming over her. He set his boots to the floor, leaning ever closer.
“Now now. No point in being shy. Tell me all about the fun we’re going to have together. We both know how far your imagination likes to stretch.” Innuendo mixed with malice, and Pere would have given her favorite pair of rifles to know what he was thinking. His cherry lips drew into a wicked grin. It was vicious, menacing, yet something fluttered deep in her stomach all the same.
Buggy took to his feet, closing the distance between them only to lift her up by her under arms and throw her on the sofa. The apprentice sharpshooter landed in an even more awkward position, trapped on her side with her legs behind her. There was a flinch as she made contact with the cushion, one pale wrist twisting in the rope. Either he was at least mildly angry, or he simply didn’t care for her well being – Pere suspected it was a mix of both.
The pirate reached behind her, snapping the center rope in one over-powered yank, though the knots securing her wrists and ankles to themselves stayed intact. “Sit up.” Buggy demanded. Pere obliged. The young woman took the momentary silence to wriggle her arms out from behind her, pulling her knees in so she could loop her arms around to the front. It was a risky move, but the Captain allowed it for whatever reason, even as he settled himself on the opposite end of the sofa. There was only a single cushion between them, an arm's length.
Pere could smell the salt on his skin, mixed in with the natural spice of testosterone. There was something additional, something citrus that she couldn’t place. By the waves and the sun, he was handsome. The clown paint did little to disguise his masculinity. His leather pants hugged his muscular legs in all the right places, and his coat was missing, revealing his toned and tanned arms. Pere held back a shudder of anticipation, willing her filthy thoughts to subside. Here she was, about to be murdered, and all she could think about was what his abs probably looked like.
Buggy took in the sight of her blown out pupils, the sweat collecting on her collarbone, and the telltale way she shifted to press her knees closer together. Something changed behind his eyes. “You really want to fuck me.” A realization.