byrospirates

[byrospirates]

help him

[byrospirates]

His mind in the air and dashing smiles, he was reminded quickly of the discomfort in his sides, skin turned from purple to yellow in the days of healing and he hissed when she only dug her knees in harder, and reality came flooding back.  Her hand at his head had both of his on her hips, a soft albeit firm grip on the denim of her pants, and the tap at his forehead only further teased his floating senses.  

A fine tale to tell, and he smirked through the pain, his own dazzling smile to show off and he couldn’t even remember if he’d put in a grill or not, even his smile was too floaty for his own awareness, and he had to lick them to make sure they were bare of the silver and gold.  “Betcha tell that story to all the boys, huh Lil Red?” and his smile grew in his daze and the pain was a welcome sense of foreplay.  God save him if he couldn’t help himself.  

A dull chuckle and on reflex his grip tightened when her knees did.

He watched her leave, sand in his hair and he mumbled under his breath that they never did, sighing and watching her back, a portion exposed from the torn shirt and he let himself watch her departure.  With a longwinded sigh and a pull on his own tank top, he collapsed back into the sand, the heat on his own bare skin and he thought it was best that he at least look like he was doing something and wasn’t a ruffled mess of a man high in the sand.

“Benny!” he called to the air, awaiting an answer that never came, and, flustered, called the mohawk’d woman’s name again.  No response, and impatience settled quickly for he abhorbed being ignored.  Honestly it was understandable at the moment, the surf and wind drowned out most of his holler and on top of that, he actually wasn’t yelling to his full capacity.  He could roar across the beach and everyone would hear him, clear as day.  Mumbling incoherently however to the sun wasn’t going to promise a reaction from any one person far off.  What pirates were in the vicinity gossiped among themselves of their Captain, he who was acting the strange and uncertain of late, and they said it was the jungle what got him.

Jungle or woman, blood or sex, all that mattered now was that someone come to bring him to his senses, and Benny was the right proper distraction for such an embarrassment.  Jack would have been a better decision, but the asshole had made his choice, and there was only Achara to satiate the warmth in his abdomen and the strain in his boxers, but with her freedom she seldom kept him company at all.  Strange how lonely life could be without a venting fuck.  Benny couldn’t give him what he wanted but she could distract him in other ways, and he’d take all he could from her to make himself feel normal once again.

No more smoke, no more booze, he had to get back off the wagon if he wanted to raise this empire up proper.  An arduous task, all things considered, and he pretended he was sunbathing while he pointed a lazy finger at a mingling nearby underling.  “Bring me Benny,” he told him, and the man was fleet on his feet to obey, even if his superior was dumb in the sand, best to do as told, for when the man sobered he’d come for his neck, and this particular pirate wasn’t fond of slashings and beheadings himself.

Brandon sighed yet again, groaning into his palms and mentally kicking his own ass to the ground for his stupidity this morning.  What was he thinking?  He was supposed to be the top dog, the captain, the fear inducing monstrosity that ruled over a band of blood thirsty pirates.  Not a soft spoil in the sand.

It then suddenly came to him as he brushed hsi sunglasses away to wipe at his eyes, that he hadn’t told Stoya the exact whereabouts of her sought hide.  

A smirk and a chuckle because he knew she’d be back and the sand wasn’t so hot anymore.

[byrospirates]

He watched her leave, sand in his hair and he mumbled under his breath that they never did, sighing and watching her back, a portion exposed from the torn shirt and he let himself watch her departure.  With a longwinded sigh and a pull on his own tank top, he collapsed back into the sand, the heat on his own bare skin and he thought it was best that he at least look like he was doing something and wasn’t a ruffled mess of a man high in the sand.

“Benny!” he called to the air, awaiting an answer that never came, and, flustered, called the mohawk’d woman’s name again.  No response, and impatience settled quickly for he abhorbed being ignored.  Honestly it was understandable at the moment, the surf and wind drowned out most of his holler and on top of that, he actually wasn’t yelling to his full capacity.  He could roar across the beach and everyone would hear him, clear as day.  Mumbling incoherently however to the sun wasn’t going to promise a reaction from any one person far off.  What pirates were in the vicinity gossiped among themselves of their Captain, he who was acting the strange and uncertain of late, and they said it was the jungle what got him.

Jungle or woman, blood or sex, all that mattered now was that someone come to bring him to his senses, and Benny was the right proper distraction for such an embarrassment.  Jack would have been a better decision, but the asshole had made his choice, and there was only Achara to satiate the warmth in his abdomen and the strain in his boxers, but with her freedom she seldom kept him company at all.  Strange how lonely life could be without a venting fuck.  Benny couldn’t give him what he wanted but she could distract him in other ways, and he’d take all he could from her to make himself feel normal once again.

No more smoke, no more booze, he had to get back off the wagon if he wanted to raise this empire up proper.  An arduous task, all things considered, and he pretended he was sunbathing while he pointed a lazy finger at a mingling nearby underling.  “Bring me Benny,” he told him, and the man was fleet on his feet to obey, even if his superior was dumb in the sand, best to do as told, for when the man sobered he’d come for his neck, and this particular pirate wasn’t fond of slashings and beheadings himself.

Brandon sighed yet again, groaning into his palms and mentally kicking his own ass to the ground for his stupidity this morning.  What was he thinking?  He was supposed to be the top dog, the captain, the fear inducing monstrosity that ruled over a band of blood thirsty pirates.  Not a soft spoil in the sand.

It then suddenly came to him as he brushed hsi sunglasses away to wipe at his eyes, that he hadn’t told Stoya the exact whereabouts of her sought hide.  

A smirk and a chuckle because he knew she’d be back and the sand wasn’t so hot anymore.

Again she was on him, and all too suddenly, the pirate lord didn’t expect her to out and Black Widow him onto the ground out of fucking nowhere.  Hell, eh didn’t even know why she was shoving him around in the first place, tackling him, sitting on his lap and biting his neck he didn’t know if she wanted to fight or fuck.

Bears were weird, he decided, and upon recollecting his wandering thoughts and catching his breath, he looked downright…surprised.  The last person who took him down like that was Jack, with slanderous words and a threat with his own tomahawk but this was a completely different predicament.  He hadn’t been bothering her for sex like he had in Jack’s case, so what was her deal?  Did she make a habit out of crawling into the lap of men just sitting and minding their own business?  Either end of the stick poked at Brandon’s foggy mind, and he met her eyes over his dislodged sunglasses.

“Last I saw your birds, you were surrounded by ‘em,” he told her, hefting her light body up and down and under his and he pulled his shades completely off, the world a little too bright for his intoxicated vision but he would survive, he was a big boy.  He still was unsure of this…whatever it was they were doing.  Honestly he never partook in such rough housing without sex being involved at some point and he had a pretty good feeling this was not where it was going…was it?

He wasn’t going to get too excited, much preferred the experienced women anyways.  How could he lie and say he wasn’t tickled pink at the thought of the small redhead shoving his back into the sand, though?  Exciting.  

Fangy smirks all around and he would have much rather lay down than pin her down he was so lax and cool under the influence of the herb.  “Just cuz they went South don’t mean you gotta take it out on me, baby.”  

[byrospirates]

He was beginning to feel all around numb, legs loose and limp and back sinking into the sand, grainy warmth on his shoulders and for a moment he flew from his body, only to return a second later and meet again the sky in her eyes, and he sighed heavily, his breath--ripe with the smell of dank weed and cherry suckers and a splash of whiskey--blowing her hair from his face and thank god for sunglasses he thought, because it was all just too bright.

Warm too, all too warm, damn this fucking island and its heat and its humidity and its hot sand, but the hot sand felt nice for the moment, but so irritating at the same time, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  Couldn’t bring himself to care much about anything today, outside of his desire to rebuild the resort island, he’d been sitting on his ass and getting high like some degenerate...pirate.  But his thoughts had been passing on that construction, and his mind had roamed around Stoya imagery, catching her out of the corner of his eye here nad there, remembering how easily she could piss him off, and how easily she could bring him down, a curious venture he staked her, and he’d be lying if his mind hadn’t wandered to more intimate settings witht eh younger woman.

Fantastical imaginings were all they were, curious thoughts and a fleeting feeling and he raised an eyebrow and smirked that stupid smirk of his.  “Call me a heartbreaker then, mi’lady,” he mused, grabbing her thin wrists in hsi large hands and practically shoving her off of him, a sudden head rush forcing him back down with little more than a push to Stoya in lieu of the attempted shove.  He sighed again, murmuring against his palms as he rubbed his eyes, the action pushing up his sunglasses and when he opened his eyes there was just far too much of...everything.  Everything and then his eyes, and Brandon thought he’d gone completely insane, seeing himself in the dark, and reality hit him like a truck though to the observing eye, he was a man in the sand and nothing more.

Her fucking t-shirt, home to his fucking eyes and any words underneath had been ripped away with the rest of the shirt...Jack’s shirt...Brett’s shirt...it was all coming back around and Brandon remembered Carlos was the first to shred that shirt.  Memories abound in that one garment and he plucked at a thread, like nothing was amiss and nothing had happened and Stoya hadn’t been grinding into his hips just moments ago.  No, suddenly that thread was more interesting and he pulled at it like a stoned idiot.

The sad truth of it was, Brandon knew he was a stoned idiot, and he would hate himself when he was sober.

Again she was on him, and all too suddenly, the pirate lord didn’t expect her to out and Black Widow him onto the ground out of fucking nowhere.  Hell, eh didn’t even know why she was shoving him around in the first place, tackling him, sitting on his lap and biting his neck he didn’t know if she wanted to fight or fuck.

Bears were weird, he decided, and upon recollecting his wandering thoughts and catching his breath, he looked downright…surprised.  The last person who took him down like that was Jack, with slanderous words and a threat with his own tomahawk but this was a completely different predicament.  He hadn’t been bothering her for sex like he had in Jack’s case, so what was her deal?  Did she make a habit out of crawling into the lap of men just sitting and minding their own business?  Either end of the stick poked at Brandon’s foggy mind, and he met her eyes over his dislodged sunglasses.

“Last I saw your birds, you were surrounded by ‘em,” he told her, hefting her light body up and down and under his and he pulled his shades completely off, the world a little too bright for his intoxicated vision but he would survive, he was a big boy.  He still was unsure of this…whatever it was they were doing.  Honestly he never partook in such rough housing without sex being involved at some point and he had a pretty good feeling this was not where it was going…was it?

He wasn’t going to get too excited, much preferred the experienced women anyways.  How could he lie and say he wasn’t tickled pink at the thought of the small redhead shoving his back into the sand, though?  Exciting.  

Fangy smirks all around and he would have much rather lay down than pin her down he was so lax and cool under the influence of the herb.  “Just cuz they went South don’t mean you gotta take it out on me, baby.”  

[byrospirates]

No drink, he could do that, didnt’ smell like any water he’d seen ever, wet as he’d seen though, and his curiosity drew him closer until his hands were in the water.  In no time the young man had plopped himself down on the edge of the pool, allowing his legs to dangle in the water as he reached his arms in as far as he could.

“W-warm,” he murmured, more to himself than the the pair in his company, transfixed by the new sight and smell and feel of the hot springs.  He leaned back to pull his legs from the water only to lean forward, muttering and laughing and slamming his uninjured hand down on the water’s surface enough to douse himself with it, and water glittered the growing brown of his hair.

“Why h-hot?  Why so...m-m-lotta?” He asked, tempted to join the other males in the pool himself, they looked safe and comfortable enough, but it was still strange water, and what if he couldn’t come out of it?  He’d never been in water before.  “Where it...come from?  Trucks more bigger than t-t-t-t--...” excitemnt indeed brought on the questions and as soon as he thought he was doing the best he’d ever done with his words, the stutter hindered him again, and he growled to himself about it and tapped the side of his head with his palm, as if that would usher out the words he desperately searched for.  Knew them, couldn’t find them though.

“Tankers!”

Finally, and he sighed with noticable relief he’d gotten past that verbal obstacle.  “Haulin’ lotta....water?”

“

Insert Feral Title Here

[byrospirates]

A small thing, yet such a force that drove Brandon up a wall, and all the same he couldn’t help admiration for it.  He wouldn’t lie, he was a guy who liked it rough, and relished anyone who could put him on his ass, and Stoya had proven that she was fully capable of doing just that, her actions giving him more to smile about.  

Still light on him though, certainly nothing on Pyro’s weight in his tackles, but nevertheless, he was beginning to enjoy her company.  Or maybe it was just the weed.

Hot sand on his back, even hotter red hair brushing aginst his cheek, and an internal heat growing in his abdomen; he craved the coolness of his cabin. “”You lookin’ for a bad romance, lil Red?” he mused, sand in his hair and her reflection in his shades and he rolled his hips a slow moment, a split second wondering if it were real or not, all of this, her and the beach and the surf and that damn red hair.  Bright and catching his face on fire. 

Again she was on him, and all too suddenly, the pirate lord didn’t expect her to out and Black Widow him onto the ground out of fucking nowhere.  Hell, eh didn’t even know why she was shoving him around in the first place, tackling him, sitting on his lap and biting his neck he didn’t know if she wanted to fight or fuck.

Bears were weird, he decided, and upon recollecting his wandering thoughts and catching his breath, he looked downright…surprised.  The last person who took him down like that was Jack, with slanderous words and a threat with his own tomahawk but this was a completely different predicament.  He hadn’t been bothering her for sex like he had in Jack’s case, so what was her deal?  Did she make a habit out of crawling into the lap of men just sitting and minding their own business?  Either end of the stick poked at Brandon’s foggy mind, and he met her eyes over his dislodged sunglasses.

“Last I saw your birds, you were surrounded by ‘em,” he told her, hefting her light body up and down and under his and he pulled his shades completely off, the world a little too bright for his intoxicated vision but he would survive, he was a big boy.  He still was unsure of this…whatever it was they were doing.  Honestly he never partook in such rough housing without sex being involved at some point and he had a pretty good feeling this was not where it was going…was it?

He wasn’t going to get too excited, much preferred the experienced women anyways.  How could he lie and say he wasn’t tickled pink at the thought of the small redhead shoving his back into the sand, though?  Exciting.  

Fangy smirks all around and he would have much rather lay down than pin her down he was so lax and cool under the influence of the herb.  “Just cuz they went South don’t mean you gotta take it out on me, baby.”  

[byrospirates]

Post all your memes, people. We may not have them for much longer.

[byrospirates]

Again she was on him, and all too suddenly, the pirate lord didn’t expect her to out and Black Widow him onto the ground out of fucking nowhere.  Hell, eh didn’t even know why she was shoving him around in the first place, tackling him, sitting on his lap and biting his neck he didn’t know if she wanted to fight or fuck.

Bears were weird, he decided, and upon recollecting his wandering thoughts and catching his breath, he looked downright...surprised.  The last person who took him down like that was Jack, with slanderous words and a threat with his own tomahawk but this was a completely different predicament.  He hadn’t been bothering her for sex like he had in Jack’s case, so what was her deal?  Did she make a habit out of crawling into the lap of men just sitting and minding their own business?  Either end of the stick poked at Brandon’s foggy mind, and he met her eyes over his dislodged sunglasses.

“Last I saw your birds, you were surrounded by ‘em,” he told her, hefting her light body up and down and under his and he pulled his shades completely off, the world a little too bright for his intoxicated vision but he would survive, he was a big boy.  He still was unsure of this...whatever it was they were doing.  Honestly he never partook in such rough housing without sex being involved at some point and he had a pretty good feeling this was not where it was going...was it?

He wasn’t going to get too excited, much preferred the experienced women anyways.  How could he lie and say he wasn’t tickled pink at the thought of the small redhead shoving his back into the sand, though?  Exciting.  

Fangy smirks all around and he would have much rather lay down than pin her down he was so lax and cool under the influence of the herb.  “Just cuz they went South don’t mean you gotta take it out on me, baby.”  

Now Brandon’s idea of fun, because yes he did know how to have innocent fun that didn’t involve blood or blades, was far from the average rough housers’.  He’d never been the kind to tackle down a friend and wreslte on the ground and trap each other in headlocks.  Never even sparred much for fun, training yes, but fun…as fun as it was to beat down his opponent, but idle play in the sand; it was unfamiliar territory.

The man’s idea of a good time, decent fun, was lying, carrying on some swept up performance for the soul purpose of fucking with someone.  It was where he was at his most creative, when he was pretending to be someone else, something he thrived in when producing the music, videos telling tales as he made up stories about some vampire named Benny.  That was fun to him, beating in skulls and painting pictures, it’s what he made a living from.  This, horseplay, was whole new frontier.

Sand itching at the waist of his pants reminded him, hey, dude, you should probably get up before sand gets down the crack of your ass, and he pushed her off, up and over him with a knee behind her and over his head she went, Brandon quick to hop to his feet afterwards.  He was hardly surprised this time at her strength, but he was still far from used to it, and wasn’t fond of the sand in his boots already he didn’t want it down his pants too.

He managed a chuckle, adjusting his sunglasses as he watched Stoya, a curious cat in his own right whenever regarding the woman, still a fond interest regardless the angry spurts and slander of his own human kind.  “You want my company this mornin’ or what sugar?” he asked, shaking sand off his back, grinning like the devil.  “So lonely.” 

[byrospirates]

Things You Forgot You Used To Do

[byrospirates]

Now Brandon’s idea of fun, because yes he did know how to have innocent fun that didn’t involve blood or blades, was far from the average rough housers’.  He’d never been the kind to tackle down a friend and wreslte on the ground and trap each other in headlocks.  Never even sparred much for fun, training yes, but fun...as fun as it was to beat down his opponent, but idle play in the sand; it was unfamiliar territory.

The man’s idea of a good time, decent fun, was lying, carrying on some swept up performance for the soul purpose of fucking with someone.  It was where he was at his most creative, when he was pretending to be someone else, something he thrived in when producing the music, videos telling tales as he made up stories about some vampire named Benny.  That was fun to him, beating in skulls and painting pictures, it’s what he made a living from.  This, horseplay, was whole new frontier.

Sand itching at the waist of his pants reminded him, hey, dude, you should probably get up before sand gets down the crack of your ass, and he pushed her off, up and over him with a knee behind her and over his head she went, Brandon quick to hop to his feet afterwards.  He was hardly surprised this time at her strength, but he was still far from used to it, and wasn’t fond of the sand in his boots already he didn’t want it down his pants too.

He managed a chuckle, adjusting his sunglasses as he watched Stoya, a curious cat in his own right whenever regarding the woman, still a fond interest regardless the angry spurts and slander of his own human kind.  “You want my company this mornin’ or what sugar?” he asked, shaking sand off his back, grinning like the devil.  “So lonely.” 

[byrospirates]

[byrospirates]

[byrospirates]

Someone protect John Silver please

[byrospirates]

Questions?

HOW BIG WERE CLIFFORDS FUCKING PARENTS TO HAVE A PUPPY 50ft HIGH FORGET KING KONG GET ROVER TO STOP HUMPING THE EMPIRE STATE BUILDING

[byrospirates]

look at this shit it looks like a fukcing family road trip

[byrospirates]

“Hey, hey, hey,” Brandon warned with a raised hand and a pointing finger.  “Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Runnin’ around leavin’ scars,” Pyro added in song with a smirk and recieved a slap to the arm from Brandon. “Shut up,” and he kept his attention on Casey, rather perturbed pretty boy still had the audacity to interrogate him.  “You, the fuck do you care how she got here?  She’s here, isn’t she?” He asked, incredulously.  “Get off me,” he bucked his hips when pushing lightly didn’t work, but the woman seemed adamant on calling his lap her safety zone. 

“Jesus Christ,” the pirate lord muttered, addressing Casey again.  “Why you all up in my grill, the girl’s right here.  Ask her, I’m not her caretaker.”  He did attempt to push her off of him again.  “Prolly bout as curious about you as you is her...meanwhile I’m over here wonderin’ what the fuck about botha ya.”

“Who’s the blond, anyway?” Pyro asked to Brandon’s ear.

“Some pretty assnugget intrudin’ on my personal space,” replied Brandon, glaring through the sunglasses.

Brandon was surprised, with Casey’s intrusive questions and with Stoya’s sudden cling onto him.  On any other normal day he might have pryed her off and shoved her away but today was a good day, and he was pleasantly high and unbothered to care much for anything, save for the very discussion Casey had brought on.  He certainly didn’t miss Stoya’s words behind him, and she sounded downright threatening, a little excitement to add to his droll day.  He saw no reason to answer the blond, however, not all with what he wanted to know.

Attention back to Casey, he humored him for the most part.  “So i was walkin’ along one day, ya know, doin’ what I do, which is tellin’ other people what to do.  Same ol’ same ol’, not much to the day.  I’d just spent like, three fuckin’ months in the jungle doin’ some crazy shit, and I’ll tell ya man, that was some crazy shit like, psh,” again he moved his hand by his head to make the same gesture as before.  “Not real pretty but what around here is, blood and guts everywhere, ya get used to it right? 

“Anyway, I was just mindin’ my own business, tryin’ to clear my head while at the same time organizing my crew to prepare ‘em for a trip on over to that dinoland park off on a separate island; recently got in good with the boss ya see, got my hands on a nice chunk of land after I checked out his native problem from that jungle stay, remember the jungle stay?  Anyway, yeah, so I call up some of my crew over at the Pub tell em imma pick ‘em up we got some business to take care of, I got that island I told ‘em.  Now as I’m on the phone with ‘em one’s tellin’ me they got this nice score and shit, an’ I’m like well hell yeah let’s share that booty, right?  Okay…”

It was obvious the man was stalling, for what the others couldn’t tell, but Brandon had an inkling that Stoya could most assuredly see the oncoming assault with a good whiff of the air.  Wasn’t hard to mistake the stench for anything else.

“So I gather up some of my men and we head on over to the Pub to check in on my Irish homies, and when I get there it’s silent as all fuck��not a soul to be found,” and he purposefully added an eerieness to the tale.  “I look around, call out for Dame, his brothers, anybody no one’s fuckin’ there.  And then–” “There was a BEAR!” Pyro leaped onto the back of Casey, snatching the journal in his assault over the man to land gracefully on his feet, curious eyes already skimming over the contents of the book with a jovial spark of laughter.  Catching the picture his smile only grew.  “In this case, a cougar, gggrar,” he purred, chuckling merrily to himself.  Brandon was laughing right along with him.  He much enjoyed doing so at the expense of Casey’s humility. 

[byrospirates]