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“Captain!” George hears one of his crew shout, and he groans. He rapidly tears off his current scent blockers that were saturated before slapping the new ones on before his omega scent can cling to him. It’s not that he didn’t trust his crew with the fact he’s an omega, he trusted them with his life after all, it’s just that he despises the looks he gets from the alphas on board.
He comes out of his quarters, frowning at Pattie, his first mate(not mate as in partner, but in his crew), who had been knocking frantically at his door. She was an alpha woman, almost rarer than a male omega. George quite liked her, but he’s not a fan of the worried look on her face.
“What is it?” He asks sharply, and she thrusts a spyglass into his hands, walking briskly to the side of the boat that was swaying in the water. She points, and George peers into it.
“There’s a ship coming into view, it’s big.” Pattie explains, and George scans the horizon until his eyes land on a huge ship. His blood runs cold, mind racing with what to do. He paces up to the deck, watching people running around, preparing different things and steadying others.
“Check the canons– don’t shoot,” he snaps, tugging down his vest nervously. Pattie nods, going off and dragging a few others of his crew down to help prepare. He paces back and forth, every so often raising the spyglass to his eye to check the distance. They seemed to be heading straight for them, and with a ship like that there was no way they could outrun them.
“Shit!” He yelps, ducking for cover when the boom of a shot rings out through the open ocean air, followed by wood splintering that he quickly realizes that the mast has been incapacitated, ruining even the possibility of trying to run. “Prepare for boarding!” He barks at the rest of his crew, drawing out his pistol and loading it in preparation for the boarding that was soon to happen.
He raises the spyglass to his eye again, swallowing down his nerves as the ship comes further into view. It had to be double the size of his own ship at least. It pulls to the side, and he jerks back when hooks come over the side, dragging the two together, and he grips his gun tight, expecting a fight.
Only for an item to be flung far onto deck, and the moment George turns around, realizing what had just been thrown, the grenade is exploding. He crumples to the ground, ears ringing as smoke seems to flood the ship. He tries to get up, ears ringing. He can hear people shouting, can see fire crackling through the wood of his ship. He draws his gun, turning around just in time to see people boarding his ship, brawling with his crew. George bolts, trying to get somewhere he’s less exposed. He ducks behind some barrels, firing at some of the strangers with a grimace, trying to ignore the pain in the side of his head.
His eyes flit around, desperate to find Pattie. A sense of dread was creeping up, and he ran out of bullets much too soon and was forced to switch to the second pistol attached to his belt. He tries not to panic, but the people on the other ship just kept coming. The ship was double the size. The crew had to be triple what his was. He whips around when an alpha scent hits him, making his head spin, and he comes face to face with a man. He shoots the moment he sees him but his hand darts up, grabbing his wrist just in time to shove it up and he’s wrestled to the ground. The barrels knock over, and George yelps, kicking and shoving. He shoots wildly, blindly, trying to get any bullet in this alpha, but his grip tightens on his wrist and the gun is flung from his hand.
The man shoves George violently down, much stronger than he was. He pins him to the ground, getting a good look at him, and George growls the moment he sees him ogling his scent glands. A gleeful laugh escapes the man's lips though, and in an instant his hand wraps around the back of his neck and tightens, forcing George to go entirely slack. No alpha would wear scent blockers, and this alpha knew it.
“Let go of me!” He screams as he’s dragged up, trying to thrash and fight, but all that his body can manage to do is twitch a little. Paul scoops him up, navigating the brawl without a single problem. He hops onto his own ship, ignoring the tears blurring in George’s eyes as he gets a little distance from where they had boarded, and then sets him down. He keeps a tight grip on the back of his neck, and George is helpless to do anything but watch as Paul’s crew retreat, carrying the treasure of previous conquests.
He can see bloodied bodies laying, and when the last person retreats the deck is utterly.. Still. The hooks are pulled back, the ships pushing apart, and George thrashes with everything he had. It was like moving through honey though, the actions in his mind refusing to translate to what his body was doing.
“Burn it!” Paul calls out, and George growls loudly.
“Let go of me– LET GO!” He screams, only for Paul’s other hand to come up, covering his mouth firmly. George bites at him, but it only seems to tighten the already bruising grip.
“Poor little omega,” he coos, forcing his body up against the edge of the ship. He chokes on his own sob when a cannon is fired, and then another, and finally it hits the room where they stored the gun powder and the entire ship goes up in an explosion. A strangled cry falls from his lips, and he tries to look away only for Paul to force his face right back towards it. “Was that your ship?” He murmurs, “your crew?” he asks mockingly, and George sobs, fully beginning to weep when he watches it fracture apart, sinking into the sea. “Some crew,” he mutters, pulling back. He drags George to the captain’s quarters, and it reeked of Paul’s scent, “havin’ to hide yer status,” he scoffs, ripping the blockers from his neck only to grimace at the putrid smell of distress. “Y’won’t be needin’ these anymore, love.”
He forces him onto the bed, but the moment he’s not being scruffed he’s fighting with everything he had left in him, kicking and screaming even as Paul forces him down, binding his wrists to the bedframe, and then after a pause, his legs to the footboard. George sobs, feeling utterly helpless as he thrashes in place. Paul simply leaves him there, shutting the door tight behind him, locking it as well.
George wails for hours and hours until he has no tears left to cry, no more energy to struggle. He’s exhausted, but every time he closes his eyes to drift off he jolts back awake, feeling more unsafe than he’s ever been.
He’s always known the risk of being an omega at sea, he had just never imagined that it would happen to him. He’s always been careful, never picked a fight he couldn’t win. He runs through everything over and over again, trying to figure out where he went wrong. He flinches when the door opens and closes, and Paul enters the room carrying a bowl of stew.
His expression had softened a bit, and George could smell just a bit of alcohol on him. He sits down on the bed, peering down at him, and George stares right back with a tear streaked, puffy face. Paul was attractive, but despicable. He had murdered his entire crew, burned his ship into the ocean. He sniffs, turning his head away when Paul scoops up a bit of the stew and prods his lips with it.
“Eat.” Paul orders, “or else I’ll cum down yer throat ‘n that’ll be yer meal,” he claims, and George shudders, tears welling up all over again. He pokes his lips with the spoon again, “c’mon, love, this’ll taste better.” he hums, and George opens his quivering lips, flinching when a hand strokes over his thigh. “That’s it,” he murmurs, feeding him until the entire bowl is empty.
“Did y’take anyone else in me crew?” George croaks, despair bubbling in his chest when Paul shakes his head no without even a trace of guilt in his eyes. “Why’d y’take me then?” he chokes out, voice trembling. Paul scoffs.
“An omega out at sea? Y’belong in a bed, not at the bottom of an ocean,” he claims before leaning down to press a kiss to his scent gland, flinching back in unearned surprise when George jerks violently. He frowns at him, hand moving up his thigh to give a squeeze right below his crotch, making George’s skin crawl with disgust. “‘N anyway, we’re headin’ to land anyway. I’ve got a farm set up, ‘n I always liked the idea of havin’ pups,” he explains, and George can’t help the pitiful sob that falls from his lips.
“‘M infertile,” he lies weakly, and Paul simply hums. He leans back down, kissing his neck more, ignoring George’s attempts at struggling. He pulls back only to pull out a knife, carefully cutting the cloth from his skin.
“Time will be the judge of that,” he says, putting his knife away after he tugs the clothing away from his body, leaving him bound open and exposed. George squeezes his eyes shut tight, sobbing loudly, trying to squirm away as Paul licks his scent gland. He stands up, clothing rustling as he undresses himself.
George doesn’t look at him, doesn’t want to, even when Paul settles between his legs and sucks on his own fingers before pushing them into the hole he’s never spent much time on himself. His body covers his own, face buried in his neck, huffing his scent for any kind of changes, and though the distress remains, arousal seeps in along with anger.
“Oh, don’t be mad at me, dear,” he coos, and George grits his teeth, fighting his cries as he’s stretched open. His fingers withdrawal, and George’s entire body jerks when he feels his cock slap against his folds. He guides himself in, grunting with the first thrust. “What’s yer name, love? Or should I give you one?” He asks, and George’s face twists, trying to disappear under the alphas gaze.
“G-george,” he chokes out, flinching when Paul’s hands trace his hips. He starts to thrust properly, fucking him steadily. He toys with his cock a bit, trying to make him come, and George isn’t sure what he’s trying to prove by doing so. He couldn’t be so stupid to think that an orgasm would invalidate, or even ease the violation. “Stop–” he hiccups, and Paul bends over him again to nip at his neck, marking him with his scent.
His movements speed up, and George can feel himself getting wetter to ease the way. His own body was betraying him, and it just makes him cry harder. Paul seemed to have given up on making him come, refocusing onto his own selfish desires as he pounds into him, letting out muffled groans into his flushed skin while George digs his teeth into his lip to prevent any sort of pleasured sound from escaping. His entire body shakes, and then pain seems to just flare through him when something bulbous forces its way inside, and he shrieks.
“Shh– shh, it’s alright,” Paul moans, keeping him pinned in place as his hips jerk weakly. George realizes with a loud sob that he’s come inside of him and knotted him. He’s never been knotted before, never wanted to be knotted either. He cries weakly, feeling completely helpless. Paul leans down, suckling on his scent gland before his teeth dig into it, and George wails as pleasure shoots up his spine, offsetting the pain, and when Paul reaches down to give him a couple strokes, cum squirts from his cock against his own will.
Paul settles down on top of him, keeping his face buried in his neck. George is left shuddering and crying as his new alpha decides to hold him, wondering what could be done now that they were mates.