Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

scuttlebutt

Noun

• Originally (now chiefly historical), a cask with a hole cut into its top, used to provide drinking water on board a ship; 

• Gossip, idle chatter; also, rumour.

“Where's Pip?” Lowa asks, expression blank, but Osha knows immediately that she's in trouble. She slaps her hand to her hip where her radio should be and cringes. 

“I… must've left it in the cabins.” Osha stares at Lowa for a moment too long and the small but stern woman's eyes narrow. Chief Stewardess Lowa is pretty, but terrifying, and as soon as Osha saw her perfectly sculpted brunette hair and her delicate makeup, she knew it would be difficult to get on her good side. If she even has a good side. 

“We named it so you would be more responsible with it. You really should treat it—”

“Like my child. I'm so sorry, Lowa, it won't happen again. I'm just… ‘off’ today.” She shoots Jecki a glance who’s polishing silverware next to her. The smaller, bubbly blonde dodges her expression. Jecki is also on thin ice with Lowa. No way she is going to say anything in this moment. 

“Well, go grab it.” Lowa sighs and shakes her head, clearly disappointed. “Charter is in an hour, so make sure you're in your whites.”

Osha nods and picks up her pace down the stairs and over to the guest cabins where she swears she must've left Pip. But it's not on the beds, not in the bathrooms, and not anywhere else she was over the past hour as she retraces her steps. 

She curses herself and starts to panic as she's venturing deeper into the body of the massive sailing yacht, down to the crew’s quarters, past the galley, past the laundry, and into a part of the boat she hasn't seen before.

She stops in this new place, forgetting what she was just doing. Like when you enter a room and instantly forget what you were there to fetch, but Osha hasn’t yet entered this room. The prospect of doing so is enough, though. The door in front of her has curved corners and a porthole, and she tilts her head to inspect it, curious about where it leads. 

It's only charter number two, and here she is, forgetting things, and finding herself in a part of the boat she definitely shouldn't be. One positive is that she at least gets along with the bosun, Yord, who had saved her ass on several occasions, covering for her in front of Lowa. But he can’t save her this time. 

Osha knows that Lowa would likely snap at her if she sees where she is now. So perhaps out of spite and a bit of rebellion, Osha doesn't back away from the door. Something on the other side hums loudly and it fills her with an unfamiliar excitement. She has to get on her tip-toes to see into the little window, only spotting pipes and what looks like a computer system on the other end. Her hands find a lever and she instinctively pulls it, unlatching the door and allowing it to swing open to a loud room, vibrating at a steady thrum and smelling of diesel, grease, and salt water. 

“Whoa,” she remarks, mouth open as she stares at what she assumes is the boat’s engine room. Walking past the various pipes and metal boxes, she finds herself in front of the computer system that's fixed to the wall, a small desk sticking out underneath to support various items. It's adorned with stickers, charms, and figurines from all over the world, and Osha smiles, thinking that whoever is stationed here must be quite the character. 

Something tickles her forehead and she looks up at a string, reaching from one wall to the other overhead, strung with shark teeth and various shells. She smiles and reaches out to touch a modified Darth Vader bobblehead that's glued to the top of the chunky computer—a jagged smile drawn across its face—when a clanking noise behind her causes her to jump.

Osha spins around, but no one is there. She looks around at the pipes and the steam, but she thinks she must be alone in this place and starts to turn back to the door when a grate below her left foot moves. She sucks in a breath and jumps to the side just in time for a man to emerge from underneath, his face and hands covered in grease. 

“Who are y—” she starts to say, but she's cut off by a loud roar from the engine. The man in the hole below seems satisfied with the sound and he smiles wide and bright as he wipes his hands on a red rag. 

He then hoists himself up and out of the hole, replacing the grate before turning to face Osha, and Osha suddenly feels small. The man in front of her fills her vision. He’s tall, lean, and muscular, and his jawline is sharp, his eyes dark under a streak of black grease which crosses his face like warpaint. He has dark stubble over his lip and on his chin. 

“It’s not easy being green,” he says as he casually removes his soaked shirt over his head. Osha feels her face flush in embarrassment as he gives her a wink before turning to the computer. In the yachting world, “yachties” refer to newbies as “greenies.” And he is correct, it is not easy being green.

Osha moves her mouth to respond but words aren't coming out. She's tongue-tied as her eyes dance on his pale body and a curiously wicked scar that branches up his spine. He isn't as tan as the others on the boat, and she quickly surmises that he's spending most of his time here, in the belly of the beast. 

“You're an engineer?” she finally asks.

“Chief,” he corrects her. 

“Chief Engineer,” Osha whispers, putting it together. The items on the computer, the collection of things from all over. This is his space.

The man types on the computer for a moment, then playfully drums his hands on the desk and taps the Vader bobblehead as if it were a cymbal on a drum set. He whips around to face her and gives her a nod.

“I'd shake your hand but… pretty sure Lowa would kill me if I got grease on her new stew.” He crosses his arms across his naked chest and leans against the wall, assessing her for the first time. 

“How did you know I was—”

“I’ve been with this beast for a long time. There’s nothing that happens on board without me knowing. For example, I know you are not supposed to be in here.” He casually taps a figurine of a shark in a hula skirt and it dances back n’ forth as Osha looks from him, to the hula dancing shark, then back at him again, gathering her thoughts. 

What was I doing again? Oh… right.

“I—I was looking for my radio, Pip, and I…” she swallows as she finishes, “...got lost.”

He raises a brow at that and gives her a long, curious stare. “Did you look in the Bridge?”

Osha shakes her head. “No, but why would…?” The Bridge is where the Captain sits most of the time with his navigating instruments. But she hasn't been up there today at all. 

The half-naked stranger gives her a smirk as he responds, “They’re fucking with you.”

Osha smiles nervously. “What do you mean?”

“You probably put it down around one of the deckhands and they swiped it, put it in the Bridge so you would have to retrieve it in front of the Captain.” The man walks slowly up to Osha, looking down at her waist.

Osha follows his gaze to the place where her radio usually clips to her skort at her hip and watches as he tugs on it, pulling her skort down just a hair, just enough for her skin to prickle in a panic. 

Osha pales. “What are you—” Her hands go to her waist, landing on his fingers which are firmly hooked on her. She suddenly feels like a mouse caught in a trap.  

He smiles at her, mischievous, and Osha realizes that she is alone in this room with a half-naked and extremely, objectively attractive man who has his thumb hooked under the elastic of her skort. She imagines what could happen: just one, swift yank, and she is exposed. The thought thrills her. Her eyes widen at him, unsure what his intentions are as he slides that thumb around to her backside. Osha can’t help but stare at his muscular frame, that strong arm wrapped around her body… 

“Keep Pip here,” he says, interrupting Osha’s fantasy. ‘It’ll be out of your way, so you’ll be less likely to take it off.” 

His words are buttery and soft against the metallic roar of the engine, and Osha feels her face get hot as he removes his hand. It slides along her waist gently before he bites his lip slightly. Osha catches the expression for just a second, hoping it means, at the very least, that he doesn’t find her repulsive. She watches as he turns around, walking back to his duties at the computer. 

Seeing that his attention is now fully on the engine’s various instruments, and realizing she has a job on this boat as well, Osha swiftly exits the room. She replays the conversation in her head, over and over, until she reaches the Bridge.

And of course, just as the stranger had suspected, Pip sits on a table in the middle of the space. “ Coffee is not breakfast ” says the sticker plastered on the side of Osha's radio. Osha begs to differ every time she reads it, but it’s a joke gift from her sister, and also a pretty decent reminder for Osha to not skip her meals. 

The sticker, as well as the masking tape that reads “ Pip ”, are enough to indicate to Captain Sol that, yes, Osha has once again misplaced her radio. 

She reaches out for it, hesitant as she looks to Captain’s back, hoping he won't be too hard on her. Perhaps he won't see her at all. Perhaps she'll get away with just grabbing it and—

“Osha, I'm so glad you found Pip.” His commanding voice punctures the silence.

Osha wraps her fingers around the radio and winces. “I'm so sorry, Captain Sol. It truly will not happen again, I promise.” She pulls Pip to her chest tightly, hoping he understands.

Sol nods, and although his expression is disapproving, his eyes are smiling kindly. “Go tell Lowa the deckhands were playing a prank on you. That'll satisfy her for the time being.”

Osha nods. “Yes, Captain. Thank you, Captain.” Whether or not it’s the truth doesn’t seem important to him, and Osha is relieved and lucky that the Captain seems to have a soft spot for her. But she has no idea when that luck will run out.

As she turns to leave, Sol clears his throat, causing Osha to turn her attention back to him. He gives her a serious look as he adds, “Remember Osha, everyone here is replaceable.”

Osha can feel herself practically shrinking into the floor, from her bare feet up to her raised, tensed shoulders and tightly-twisted locs. She simply responds, “Understood, Captain.” Lucky, indeed.

After explaining to Lowa what had happened—save for her little adventure in the engine room—Osha goes back to her cabin and changes into her whites, which is essentially shorthand for the more formal attire they would greet the guests in. Pristine white shirts and black pencil skirts, indicating the level of luxury service and professionalism that will be expected from them. After dressing, she places Pip on her hip, then remembers the Chief Engineer’s thumb tucked into her skort. The intimate touch was unexpected, but understandable. He was simply trying to help her to not lose her radio again, wasn't he? Surely it meant nothing more.

But if that were the case, then why is Osha’s chest feeling so light everytime she recalls the encounter? The smell of that room, the grease streaked across his face, the way his fingers touched her with such intention—those fingers that had no doubt just danced over the engine with a similar intensity. It all called to her, so weird and wonderful, dark and new.

Osha moves Pip around to sit on her backside and nods, satisfied with the comfortability of it. She then looks at herself in the mirror, all cleaned up, ready to present to the guests. “Charter two. You got this.”

~~~

While Osha had worked on boats before, it was nothing like this. She was used to serving people cocktails on sailboats and catamarans. The Dreadnought is a one hundred seventy foot long sailing yacht, with a main mast topping at over ten stories, not to mention three large rooms for guests with bathrooms, four bunking cabins for the crew, and pretty much every amenity you can imagine. It was made for billionaires, but when they’re not using it, and when the crew has earned it, it’s theirs. So even though Osha has to scrub toilets, do laundry, and generally clean up after some of the most pretentious assholes on the planet, she feels as though she’s really made it.

After a long, tough year of loss and what seemed to be endless grief, Osha has finally found a new life. It was Mae who had told her about yachting—had shown her a tower of cash she'd made from just half a charter season. Ever since, Osha has been working on getting enough references to get on a mega yacht so she too could find her own way through the world with a little extra cash in her pocket. That journey had finally brought her to the Mediterranean and to the crew of The Dreadnought. 

As she and the crew are lined up to greet the guests, Osha can't help but wonder what the Chief Engineer's story is. Everyone in yachting has a strange one. She recalls the stickers on the computer and desk. Many were just names of locations, bands, and bars. One had said “ Enrolled in Anchor Management ” and she just now gets the joke. The contrast of the man’s attractive intensity and the silliness of the pun bubbles up to her chest and she looks down to her feet, hiding a smile. 

Lowa jabs her elbow into Osha's side and Osha steadies herself, careful to not topple the tray of champagne glasses she's holding. 

“Smile at the guests, Osha,” Lowa says through gritted teeth.

“Welcome aboard,” Captain Sol says, greeting the guests as they step onto the sailing yacht. 

Osha forces a smile, mind still drifting to the stranger in the engine room. She doesn’t even know his name. In fact, no one on board has ever mentioned him since she'd joined the crew. It’s odd, to say the least. 

“Fuck yeah, let's get ruined,” a man with a butt chin says, grabbing two of the glasses from Osha's tray. 

“Oh, I might need to pour more—” she starts to say, but is quickly interrupted by another guest grabbing the last two glasses. This one has stubby, sweaty fingers. The two massive men gulp down the champagne, and Osha forces herself to recall the two thousand dollar tip she just received from the previous two-night charter. 

“Luxury, man. Whatever we want.” The two men high-five.

Osha looks to Lowa for guidance, who rolls her eyes before snapping back into Chief Stew mode. 

“Gentlemen, would you like something else to drink? Osha here can make you whatever you'd like over in our main bar.”

Osha nods. She would rather have a bar separating her and these men anyway. 

After she takes the guests’ orders—tequila shots for the guys and cosmos for two women with them with the perfect breasts—Osha heads to the main bar while Lowa gives the guests the tour. 

“They seem like fun,” Jecki whispers sarcastically as she follows Osha over to the bar.

Osha snorts. “That's one word for it. I'm just hoping they put their money where their mouth is.”

Jecki leans over the bartop as Osha prepares the cocktails, their stances relaxing now that they’re out of the guests’ sight. “Yord said that the primary guest is the owner of a cam site. The two women with them are not their girlfriends either. Kel thinks they’re… you know.”

Osha gives Jecki a look. “Performers?” she asks, and Jecki quickly nods. “Great. I’m sure that’ll keep the deckhands totally focused on work.” She wouldn’t be surprised if Torbin and Kel had already found the women online. The fact that they would have the opportunity to stay on this yacht just for being cam girls eats at something inside Osha, though she knows it’s not a fair judgement.

“No matter,” Jecki says, her bright demeanor always puncturing Osha’s gloom. “Drinks will be flowing, toilet paper will be stocked. It’s only two nights.”

They give each other a knowing look and laugh. They were probably going to be worked to the bone by the time the guests departed. But that is the job, and Osha visualizes a thick envelope of cash as she places the drinks on a tray. She and Jecki go to deliver the drinks to the guests on the aft deck, where they find a frazzled Lowa trying to keep their attention.

“What if we want girls? Where can we get girls?” 

Lowa looks to the two women who joined the men and puzzles, probably thinking the same thing Osha is. They have girls. “Well, um, we can certainly take you to a nearby beach club, but I do need to finish the safety demo—”

“Shots!” 

Osha forces a smile as the guests crowd her and the plate of drinks. Lowa continues the safety demo, despite knowing they are not paying her any attention. 

“What’s your name again?” asks one of the men after he takes a shot.

“Osha,” she answers politely.

“I like you, Osha. Keep the shots coming.”

“You got it.” 

~~~

“Watch your head,” Yord says as he helps a guest onto the tender. “Kel will take good care of you all at the beach club. Just let him know when you want to head back for dinner, alright?” Osha looks at Kel and smiles when she sees that he easily towers over the two men. 

Perhaps that’ll keep their egos in check. 

“You’re the best, Yord,” one of the guests says as he fist bumps Yord from the tender. They give a loud woot before taking more shots as the tender peels away from the yacht.

Or perhaps they’re too blitzed to notice.

Osha approaches Yord and sighs. “You think they’ll be back around six?”

“Probably more like eight. Plenty of time to get things prepared for what I assume will be a long night.” He looks to her with his signature bright smile and Osha thinks he must be the kindest person on board. His golden skin emphasizes his perfect beach bod, and there’s no doubt in Osha’s mind that he’s made for this job. She admires that about him, that he has found his place in this world. 

“Osha, Osha, Lowa,” Lowa calls from the radio.

Osha pulls Pip up to her face and responds, “Go for Osha.”

“You’re on break for an hour.”

“Copy.” She looks to Yord again and shrugs. “Guess I’ll go hangout in the crew mess.”

Yord tilts his head at her. “You know, most yachties call their significant others on their breaks. Not a lot of time to do so otherwise.”

“Well, I am single as a pringle.” She gives him a smile, squinting against the bright, Mediterranean sun. 

“Good to know,” he answers, and Osha’s eyes go wide, only just now realizing that he easily fished that info from her. 

“Alright, well… I’ll see you later,” she awkwardly adds, nearly tripping over herself as she climbs the stairs back up to the aft deck. 

Back in the crew mess, there’s a flurry of movement around Osha as Jecki does laundry around the corner and Chef Mog prepares the crew’s dinner as well as an eight course menu for the guests, just as they requested. She picks at some corn chips, not really hungry, but needing something on her stomach. 

“Crew is only getting chicken and vegetables for dinner tonight. I might be able to scrounge together some rolls, but you all will just need to make due. This eight-course menu is going to be the death of me.” Mog talks endlessly, mostly to himself, as he moves in and out of the galley, checking the guests’ preference sheets and glancing into the walk-in. 

“Why is it that every other guest these days puts all the good vegetables on their “never” list. Carrots, beets, sweet potatoes… Are they avoiding sugar? Insufferable toffs.”

Osha watches on, amused by Mog as he does what he’s best at. Eventually, she steps into the galley itself, keeping herself out of his way as he expertly prepares the various items.

“Chef…” she starts to say, trying to find the words for what she is about to ask.

“Third stew…” he answers before giving her a kind smile.

Osha rubs her neck nervously. “Do you know the Chief Engineer?”

Chef Mog has his back turned to her now, looking over a pot on the stove when he answers, “Ah, the mysterious and dangerous stranger who lives in the engine room?” He gives her a curious look over his shoulder. “And how, pray tell, did you hear about him ?”

Osha bites her lip. “I might’ve stumbled into the engine room, looking for Pip.”

“So you met him, then?” 

Osha nods.

Chef Mog sighs. “Let’s just say, he came with the boat.”

Lowa rushes into the galley then, carrying a trayful of glasses to be washed. “Osha, aren’t you on break?”

“Sorry, I was just—”

“Asking about the Chief Engineer,” Mog adds, giving Lowa a knowing look. 

Lowa places the tray down on the counter and Osha straightens. Surely Lowa can’t be mad at her for being curious about a crew member that no one told her about.

“ Qimir Rwoh came with the boat,” she says seriously. 

“That’s what I told her,” Mog chimes in, sing-songy. 

In Osha’s mind, she repeats his name over and over again. Qimir, Qimir, Qimir…

“What does that mean, ‘came with the boat’?” she asks. “Isn’t he a crew member?”

Mog answers as Lowa rolls her eyes. “He keeps the engine running, we stay out of his way.” He says it as though it’s been told to him in that exact manner, as if he’s repeating a long-known rule.

Osha thinks for a moment, then responds, “You… feed him though, right?”

“Ha! He’s not a prisoner, Osha. He decides to stay down there. But he does come around when he needs things.”

“He’s just… quiet about it.” Lowa shivers.

Fascinating , Osha thinks, imagining Qimir sneaking around the boat while the rest of the crew is asleep, helping himself to the pantry and liquor cabinets. Osha starts to move out of the galley, mind drifting down the path to the engine room.

“Osha?” Lowa says sternly.

Osha turns.

“Don’t get in his way,” she warns.

Osha simply nods, relieved that Lowa hadn’t ordered her to never go into the engine room. But a part of her knows it was implied. She would just need to be secretive about it. 

After she tiptoes around the corner and out of sight, she makes her way down to the now-familiar curved door. Seeing no movement inside, she opens it and hesitantly walks into the engine room. Even Osha isn’t so sure why she’s here. She has his name now. And perhaps that feels powerful, as though she can treat him as just another crew member. But something else also calls to her from this place, something she doesn’t quite yet understand.

“What are you doing here, Greenie?” The voice startles her and she spins around to find Qimir standing in a doorway she hadn’t seen before. He’s wearing his crew uniform, similar to the deckhands, and he clearly had a shower at some point since they last met. His hair is soft, and the streak that covered his face is no longer there, exposing his sharp cheekbones and deepening his stare. 

She hesitantly takes two steps towards Qimir, glancing at the cot on the floor behind him. “You sleep in there?”

Qimir closes the door behind him and latches it shut, as though she saw something she shouldn’t have. “You answer my question first.” Though he outranks her, it’s not an order, and there is even a hint of curiosity in his voice. 

“I’m on break and I thought… I was in such a rush earlier, I don’t think we properly met.” She holds out a hand to Qimir. “I heard your name was Qimir? I’m Osha.”

He doesn’t immediately take her hand, and Osha stands awkwardly, arm still raised, hoping, at the very least, he’ll be polite.

Qimir’s tongue rolls over his cheek as he stares at her extended hand, when, finally, he grasps it. “Osha,” he says slowly and softly, almost like a prayer, and Osha shivers at the sound. She tries to pull away but he grips her hand more tightly, pulling her closer to him. 

Osha sucks in a breath at the sudden movement and stares up at him, not knowing what to do. He’s even more gorgeous up close, and she can’t help but trace her eyes along his sharp features, all too aware of his dark eyes on her own.

“You’re very pretty, Osha.” His thumb softly brushes over her hand, and Osha feels a warmth in her chest, followed by an unmistakable fear in her gut. She recalls that Mog called him “dangerous,” and she thinks maybe she should have heeded the warning.

“Th-thank you?”

Qimir still holds her close, hand wrapped tight around her wrist. “Pretty… but not so innocent.”

Is he trying to scare me?

“How would you know?” She searches his face for something—an emotion, a hint at what he wants from her. 

Pip crackles audibly from behind her. “Osha, Osha, Jecki.” 

Using her free hand, Osha pulls Pip to her mouth and answers, “Go for Osha.”

Qimir watches her closely still as Jecki responds from the radio, “The guests will be bringing some… friends on board. We need your help.”

“Copy that,” Osha responds before clipping Pip back to her skort.

Qimir loosens his grip slowly, then lets her go as he says, “You took my advice.”

“It was good advice.” She smiles at him, wishing she had more time to spend here, in the engine room. The steady roar and thrumming it makes is comforting, and she probably had a million questions for Qimir about his living arrangement, how often things went wrong with the engine, and what he has to do for regular maintenance. 

“I have to go but… maybe I’ll catch you sneaking around the boat.”

“Sneaking?” He seems amused at the statement. 

“Yes, when you’re not working or sleeping in the belly of the beast, that is.” Osha doesn’t quite know what comes over her as she gives him a wink, and then backs away to the door.

Qimir gives her a curious look and brushes his hand through his hair, and Osha feels that warmth flood into her chest again before she forces herself out of the engine room, taking a deep breath after she closes the door behind her. It’s a rush, being in there… and with him. She isn’t sure which variable is more thrilling. 

When she makes it up to the salon, Jecki and Lowa are hurrying to collect more flatware for the table setting, and Osha instantly jumps in to assist. For the next several hours, they prepare for a larger guest dinner than originally expected as well as an after party on the top deck. As the sun begins to set on the horizon, Jecki assists Mog in the galley, and Osha focuses on decorating the railing with lights, preparing a space for the DJ, and making sure all the alcohol in the top deck’s bar is where it should be. 

“Need some help?” Yord appears by Osha’s side as she’s arranging glassware in the cabinet. 

Osha panics slightly, remembering what was said earlier on the platform. She gives him a polite smile. “No, thanks.”

Yord hovers over her as she moves the bottles of Patron to the front, anticipating that it will be a popular drink. 

“Alright well…” he trails off as his radio makes a static sound. 

“Yord, Yord, Lowa.”

“Go for Yord.”

“The guests are arriving early, and they brought back eight additional women.”

Yord sighs and Osha looks up at him, wide-eyed. He answers, “Osha and I will be right there.”

~~~

“Are you sure you'll be alright on your own, Osha? They've had quite a bit to drink.” Lowa’s eyes are barely staying open as she speaks, whereas Osha is on her fifth cup of coffee for the day. Lowa wouldn’t dare touch the stuff. But it’s two in the morning, and Osha knows they’re all running on fumes.

“No worries, really. I think they're about to pass out anyway.” She looks to the hot tub outside, where the party has migrated, even though there's definitely not enough room for everyone in the tight space. They certainly don’t seem to mind.

Lowa rubs her eyes and sighs in relief. “Thank you,” she says, turning to go down to the crew's quarters. 

Osha downs her cup of coffee before heading back outside to attend to the guests. The women are mostly all topless now, playing and showing off to each other, and Osha forces a smile before asking the primary guest, “Need another refill?”

“I'm starved,” he says.

“Yeah I could eat,” his mate adds. 

Osha pauses for a moment, unsure what to do in this situation. Chef Mog is already asleep in his cabin, and she's not supposed to wake him. And Osha herself is no chef. Best she can do is—

A thought pops into her mind and she answers, “I could make you some grilled cheeses.” 

She almost slaps herself in her face for such a suggestion. This is the Mediterranean, home of some of the most luxurious restaurants in the world, and unless her grilled cheeses are made from scratch with beluga caviar and cheddar laced with gold, she's certain they will turn up their noses—

“Oh that sounds fucking amazing, thank you.”

Osha is startled, of course, but she doesn't show it. She simply goes back inside, finding her way to the galley. Looking to the clock, she realizes she's never been up so late before on this boat. The previous guests drank so much during the day and, coupled with how much food and sun they’d also consumed, often passed out after a hot dinner hit their bellies. But given Lowa's reaction as every hour trickled by, this is not uncommon. 

Osha searches in the galley pantry for bread, cheese, and the panini press. Mog would likely kill her if she touched his stove top or his pans, so she keeps it simple, preparing several sandwiches for the press, when she senses someone entering the galley. She wipes her brow, suddenly feeling stressed as she turns, expecting to find a guest who has wandered in looking for food.

Osha sucks in a breath. Qimir's standing a few feet from her, looking inside the pantry, back turned to her, but his frame is unmistakable. She watches him as he pulls out a container of blueberries, then turns to leave. But then, as if sensing her, he pauses at the galley entrance and looks over his shoulder, catching her eyes. He retraces his steps backwards, a smile slowly painting across his face. 

“Late shift?” he asks, looking at the sandwiches on the counter.

“Yeah.” Osha puts one of the sandwiches on the press, trying to seem unbothered by his sudden presence. “Why are you up?” she asks.

“Anchor watch.” Qimir pulls a blueberry out of the container and pops it into his mouth.

“You have to… watch the anchor?” Osha asks.

“Wind is at eighteen knots. Someone has to watch how the beast moves side to side overnight to make sure we're not dragging anchor. Otherwise, we could hit rocks or run ashore.”

He's closer now as she leans against the counter, and Osha stiffens slightly at the change in proximity. His height is more exaggerated in the small space, and Osha tries to not look into his dark eyes for too long, lest she forget she's on the job. 

She clears her throat. “Well, I'm glad someone is keeping us safe. I'm just… feeding these guests a midnight snack.”

Qimir is next to her at the counter now. “Grilled cheeses. Good thinking, Greenie.”

Osha blushes and opens the press, switching out the cooked sandwich for an uncooked one. She then looks up at where the serving platters are and reaches to get one, her fingertips just brushing the side of one.

There's movement, swift and blurry. And all at once, the world around her slows when Qimir's body presses into Osha from behind. She grips the counter with one hand, the other fixed to the shelf above as a hand falls onto her shoulder. Another reaches up and touches the platter next to the one Osha was trying to get. 

“This one?” he asks quietly.

Osha swallows. “No, um…” She presses onto her tip toes and points to the one next to it. Qimir's hand jumps to the platter on the opposite side of the one she wants. 

“This one?” he teases, pressing himself into her more firmly as the boat rocks slightly under their feet. 

Osha winces at his warmth. She has to get these sandwiches back to the guests soon and she can't have this distraction, even though she wishes she could give in. She wriggles her body and spins around under his lean frame, facing him. Qimir has her trapped, arms falling on either side of her. 

She gives him a disapproving look, unable to ask him to stop teasing her. His eyes dance on her, amused and intrigued. She expects him to do something, to kiss her, or to say something clever. But he simply stares, close enough that Osha can smell the blueberries on his breath. 

Osha narrows her eyes now, confused and frustrated, but there's something else under the expression: want… curiosity. She can't hide them, and something visibly breaks between them. There’s a shift in the energy—sadness, and pleading. Qimir bites his lip as though he’s stopping himself from using it and his face changes, unreadable and cold. He breaks eye contact with her, looking up to the platters and quickly pulling down the one she wanted. He sets it on the counter next to her, then steps away, clearing his throat.

“Go check on them, I got these,” he says casually.

Osha feels sweaty and disheveled. She fixes her clothes while walking back up to the hot tub. Something odd is happening with Qimir, but she can't tell yet what his intentions are. If it's simply to tease her, that's going to be a problem as Osha already has enough obstacles in her job. 

If his intentions are to fuck her, then Osha thinks that is probably a good thing. Maybe if they just have a quick fling, she could get whatever this is out of her system. And who knows, maybe he will give her the ick and she'll be over her little crush. 

And it is definitely a crush. A crushing crush. She can't deny that she likes Qimir, no matter how dangerous the others claim he is. For one, he's hot. But Osha sees more beyond that. The way he moves, the way he carries himself like he's two steps away from catching her. The way his eyes watch everything like he's solving out how it works inside. And something else that’s more familiar, something that Osha knows intimately and recognizes instantly even though it’s intentionally masked: rage.

“Osha, we also want grilled cheeses,” one of the topless women whines. 

“There will be plenty for everyone. Do you want to eat them in the salon or should I bring them out here?” She's hoping they'll begin moving inside as that usually encourages sleep. 

To her relief, they start to hop out of the tub, and Osha helps them find towels. By the time she has most of them inside, Qimir has placed the platter of grilled cheeses on the table in the salon. They're cut into perfect triangles and arranged in a spiral. Osha's jaw falls, surprised by his artistic dedication to something so mundane. She looks around, but aside from the sandwiches, there is no sign of him anywhere.

~~~

An hour later, Osha looks on at the various women sleeping in the salon, covered in any blankets Osha could find for them. She counts that they’re all here—all ten. Meaning the guys must’ve passed out in their rooms. 

What was even the point?

She steps over some of the bodies on the floor, making her way to the crew’s quarters, when a thought pokes at the dangerous part of her brain, the part that’s too curious for her own good. The part that wonders if Qimir is still on the Bridge. She assumes that’s where one must conduct an anchor watch, and she tiptoes over to the stairs, making her way up as quietly as possible. The whole boat is asleep now, except the two of them. Osha feels a thrill in her chest.

She’s not even sure what she’ll do if he’s there, like a puppy chasing its tail. And when she peeks over the top step, she meets his dark eyes and curses.

“Shit,” she whispers, ducking back under, then hesitating.

“Come on up, Greenie,” he says. Osha peeks back over the step and watches him spin around in the Captain’s chair, facing the various screens and buttons. She slowly joins him, looking down at a screen showing a scan of the sea floor. There’s only a small light on in the rear of the space, casting most of Qimir’s face in shadow. But a soft, green glow shines on his features each time he leans down, illuminating his focused expression. 

Still… so gorgeous. 

“You stay up all night… doing this?” she asks, rubbing her arms with her hands. The Bridge is fully enclosed, but Qimir has the windows open, allowing the cold, night air to rush in. 

“Not every night, but some, yeah.” He writes down some numbers in a log, then tilts his head. “Isn’t it your bedtime, Greenie?” 

Osha feels her jaw tense every time he calls her that, a reminder of her inexperience. “I just wanted to thank you… for the sandwiches. You didn’t have to do all that.”

“I don’t have to do a lot of things. I could’ve had one of the deckhands to do this tonight but they’re… well, they seemed a bit distracted with their phones.” He clears his throat, remaining focused on the items in front of him. In fact, he hasn’t looked at her since she wandered up the stairs. 

Osha shifts her weight, too wound up to go to bed just yet. “I knew it. I should’ve put money on how quickly they would search for the videos of the guests.” She smiles, and he’s still not looking at her.

“Yeah and they’ll spend the rest of the charter focused on nothing else,” Qimir says absently as he flips a page in the log and runs his finger over the numbers. Seeing him still paying her no attention—at least not like before—Osha thinks that maybe she’s intruding on his work. She rubs her arms again, the cold biting her all over her bare skin.

“You weren’t curious… about the videos?” She knows it’s dangerous territory, casually talking about porn with someone she’s only just met, but Osha can’t help herself.

“You mean the porn?” he answers bluntly.

“Yeah, I mean… I was thinking of looking them up myself.” 

Where the fuck did that come from?

She watches as Qimir raises a brow and taps on the log in front of him, his eyes still not looking at her. His leg starts to bounce, and Osha thinks that maybe she’s outstayed her welcome here.

“I guess I should…” she starts, gesturing to the stairs, and Qimir simply nods. Osha feels something in her gut evaporate, and suddenly she’s wanting to crawl into bed, away from this confusing man. 

She leaves without another word. 

~~~

Osha lays in bed, mind racing about what just happened, or, more importantly, what didn’t happen. Maybe she misinterpreted his teasing. Maybe he saw his work as more important.

That’s fine , she thinks. That’s perfectly fine. 

“You’re very pretty, Osha,” he had said to her. His hands always found a way to be on her, and yet, in a moment entirely alone and with no guests to look after…

Osha rolls over, hitting her knee on the ceiling as she does. She grunts in response, but Jecki is thoroughly passed out on the bottom bunk. She scrolls on her phone, seeing that Mae is enjoying her charter in Australia, and, before Osha realizes what she’s doing, she’s typing Qimir’s name into the search bar of every social media site she can think of. 

The man is nowhere to be found.

Maybe he’s not real. Maybe he’s haunting the boat, she thinks, her mind drifting off to sleep. In her exhausted state, Osha texts Mae one simple question.

“ Have you ever hooked up with a crew member? ”

Chapter Text

Osha wakes the next morning to no new messages and a mind swimming in a fog. Jecki’s already up for her shift, and Osha gets ready alone, moving slowly and groggily. She puts on her daily uniform; blue polo with the name of the boat on the front and a tan skort. She finally emerges from her room, heading straight for the coffee pot, when a voice crackles over her radio.

“Osha, Osha, Lowa.”

She whines before pulling it to her mouth, responding, “Go for Osha.” They couldn’t let her have one coffee before calling for her? 

“Could you come up to the aft deck, please?”

“Ten four, coming to the aft deck.” Osha clips Pip back in its spot and opens a mini fridge in the crew ‘s quarters, grabbing an energy drink. She downs the whole can in an instant and shakes her head at the bubbles. 

Coffee might not be breakfast, but a Red Bull might have to be.

She feels the caffeine working quickly as she makes her way up to the aft deck. Since Osha is working the late shift, she’s already missed most of the day. Lowa fills Osha in on what’s important: all the extra guests that they had accumulated the night prior are all off the boat now, and the foursome are currently hanging out on the sun deck, looked after by Jecki.

“I need you to take her place in… five minutes,” Lowa says.

“How are they?” Osha asks, preparing herself for the worst.

“They’re getting ‘ruined’ again today, apparently. Well, the men are. I haven’t quite figured out the women.”

Osha nods. “They’re not doing any water sports?”

Lowa rolls her eyes. “Oh, you’ll see what sort of sport they’ve conjured up.” 

When Osha steps onto the sun deck, she’s greeted by hoots and hollers and chants of her own name, which, Osha admits, makes her feel rather good. She curtsies, humoring them.

“Oshaaaa! You were the VIP last night, girl,” says the man with the butt chin.

“It was just some grilled cheeses. Nothing compared to your dinner!”

He guffaws obnoxiously. “It was perfect. Banging grilled cheese. You’re the breast!”

The man with the stubby fingers gives him a look and then bursts out laughing. “B—breast?!”

With every ounce of her sanity in check, Osha succeeds in not rolling her eyes at the comment. “Can I get you anything?” she asks, as always. 

The women give Osha wicked smiles as the two men encourage Osha to come to the edge of the railing with them. She hesitantly follows, not sure what they’re up to. When she looks over the side of the boat, she sees the beautiful blue water of the Mediterranean, sparkling in the bright sun.

“Jump.”

Osha looks down and then back at them, seeing they’re serious. “Oh, I can’t… not while I’m…”

“Osha, we want you to jump.” They chuckle at the look on her face which is likely a mixture of shock and polite amusement.

“Um…” Osha takes Pip in her hand and hesitates before saying into it, “Captain? Osha.” She looks over to the Bridge, where she sees Captain Sol’s outline just barely through the windows.

“Yes, Osha?”

“Um… permission to jump into the water, as requested by the guests?” She thinks that surely he will say no, putting an end to this strange game of theirs, and giving Osha an excuse to go back to her typical duties.

“Permission granted,” he responds. 

“Ha! He told the others they couldn’t,” says stubby fingers.

Osha pales while the others on the deck cheer. She hesitantly puts Pip down on a cushion, not wanting to separate from it. It feels like a lifeline now, as she is getting ready to fling herself into the Mediterranean Sea. 

###

Qimir listens to the radio as he lays on his cot near the engine. He rubs his face in frustration, then quickly gets up to put on his shirt. Jumping off a yacht in the Med is a common occurrence, and it’s typically very safe, but Qimir knows they anchored next to a wickedly strong current. So strong that he had to pull anchor and use the thrusters overnight to replace their position, twice. And now, even though Sol knows as well as he does that it’s risky, the Captain has just given the Greenie permission to jump overboard. 

Qimir curses under his breath as he rounds a corner, making his way up to the sun deck. The hot teak feels foreign on his feet, and the sun feels even stranger after spending so many days catching up on sleep he wasn’t able to get at night. But all of that is in the back of his mind as he runs, trying to get to her before she—

He spots Osha on the tip of the bow, no doubt the worst place she could possibly jump from. 

“Shit, Osha—” he whispers as he gets closer now, not wanting to fuck up the guests time and, by consequence, fuck up the crew’s tip. He watches, helpless, as she jumps in, feet first. The guests cheer, not noticing Qimir as they look down over the bow. Qimir instinctively grabs a line from the front of the bow, unraveling it just enough so he can take it with him. And before he realizes how it will look to everyone else, he’s suddenly following close behind her, diving off the bow in one fluid motion, headfirst. His head plunges into the water and he spots her instantly, her reddish locs catching the bright sun through the clear blue. 

He recalls their conversation the night prior. She had wanted him to talk about porn with her. Porn! Is she insane? But of course, she doesn’t know how much he wanted to fuck her right there on the Bridge. How he was watching the numbers add up to show they were definitely dragging anchor. How the rocks would’ve definitely torn the hull apart had he given into his urges. 

When their heads come up for air, he swims to her and grasps her arm tightly, already feeling the current underfoot trying to pull them away from the beast—The Dreadnought. 

“Qimir, what are you—?” Osha starts to protest, trying to swim to the back of the beast, but she quickly assesses the situation, seeing how difficult it is, and clasps his arm as well. 

“I have a line,” he assures her, wrapping his hand around the rope.

“How are we supposed to get back?” Her eyes are worried, but he’s impressed that she’s not panicking. Not yet, anyway. 

He gives her a reassuring smile, then looks up at the guests above. “Could one of you let the bosun know that… we’re kind of stuck here?” 

One of the heads that were looking down at them disappears, hopefully to go find a crew member, and Qimir looks back at Osha. “Wrap your legs around me. You’re tiring yourself out kicking like that.” He could say that’s at least partially true. But he also knows that he wants to feel more of her, no matter how precarious the situation. Ever since she stumbled into the engine room, he’s been hopelessly overcome by her presence on the beast. He’s always tuned in to what happens on this boat. Always listening to his radio to know where crew members are and what the guests are doing.

He recalls when she first spoke into her radio, all nerves and excitement. Osha’s voice had intrigued him, but seeing the face and body that went with it made him itch with frustration. It wasn’t enough to tease her. It wouldn’t be enough to fuck her. And Qimir knows it’s morally repugnant to act on what he actually wants. And there’s knowing that he’ll scare her away if he shows her more of himself. 

But in this moment, he can see that she’s still taken with him, despite not knowing what he wants. Which makes it all the more difficult for Qimir to continue holding himself back. He watches as Osha hesitates, pulling herself closer to him just enough to keep herself from being taken by the current. 

“I think I’m fine,” she says, but she looks unsure. “How did you even know I was going in?”

He grins. “Like I said, nothing happens on this boat without me knowing.” Qimir's struggling to keep her close and he narrows his eyes at her. He knows she doesn’t fear him. That alone had surprised him. When she had wandered back into the engine room the second time, he had realized it. And then in the galley, when she looked at him like that… 

Fuck it.

Qimir forcibly pulls Osha close to him, not caring about her previous protest. Her body presses against him under the water, legs wrapping around his waist. She looks at him, worry still painting her face, this time for other reasons, he can see. But then her arm comes around his neck, and she holds onto him naturally. 

“That’s better,” he says, breathy and relieved. When she looks away from him, seeming unsure, Qimir dips his face under the water slightly, filling his mouth, then playfully spits a small, gentle stream at her face. 

Osha’s eyes shut and she rubs at the salt water in her eyes. “Hey!” 

Qimir snorts a laugh, then watches her expression closely. Her cheeks redden, and a smile tugs at her full, pillowy lips. She gives him a look, like the one she gave him in the galley, insurmountable grief and rage locked behind it. He can feel the weight of it, and knows it needs to be released, begging to free. He thinks that he can find a way to break in and let it out. He could do that, for her, he thinks—knows. For those eyes, brave and curious as they are…

What does he want with her? He doesn’t want to control her or dominate her. At least, not in any true sense. But, if she is willing, he wants to take her. Devour her. Possess her. He wants her to be his. 

Qimir pulls her even closer under the water, and Osha sucks in a breath as her chest presses into him. “I’m sorry I tease you,” he says quietly.

Qimir watches intently as Osha’s mouth opens, then closes, then opens again. 

To have those lips wrapped around my cock…

The thought of it, coupled with the feeling of her in his arms, pressed against him under the water, makes him harden.

“I don’t mind it,” she says, breathy.

He thinks that surely she can feel him. He watches as Osha’s expression softens, her lips parting as she moves her hips on him in a dangerous way. Her face reddens, and Qimir lets out a soft grunt as he pulls her tighter, desperately wanting her to show him how good she rides a cock— 

“Osha!” Yord yells from behind Qimir, riding a jet ski. Yord comes around them, and Qimir hesitantly lets Osha go as Yord hoists her onto the jet ski with him. He watches her be taken away, knowing too well that Yord will act as though he was her white knight in all this. It doesn’t matter, he decides. 

Everything is different now. 

###

Osha feels a steady pulse between her thighs as Yord helps Osha onto The Dreadnought’s platform. She’s lucky she’s soaked, otherwise the slick would be unbearable. Just the way Qimir had looked at her set her on fire. And the length of him that she felt on her thigh would’ve made her come had she just a little more time, a little more adjustment, and maybe a little help from his hands on her ass. Normally, she’d shy away from such a situation. She certainly wouldn’t encourage it. Not since the incident a few years back.

She shakes her head of the thought as she takes a towel from Jecki.

“Thanks. That was a really strong current.”

“I can’t believe Captain let you jump,” Jecki says, and it causes Osha to question whether Sol knew about the current.

“He told the others they couldn’t,” she recalls the guest saying.

“Will you tell Lowa I’m going to change real quick?”

Jecki gives her a thumbs up, and Osha moves towards the doors when she overhears a loud voice from above in the Bridge. She stops.

“But you knew—!”

Qimir’s voice is cut off by Captain Sol, who is clearly angry that Qimir would raise his voice at his superior. She ducks under the stairs where she can listen.

“She’s a strong enough swimmer, she would’ve been fine.”

“So is anyone else on this crew but you didn’t let them in, why?”

There’s silence, and Osha thinks she can hear whispering, missing some words exchanged. Sol hisses, “My boat. My rules. You stay at your station and do not question me.”

She hears Qimir start to stomp away, then he stops. “I would say I thought better of you, but we both know that’s not true.”

Osha hears a loud bang, then Qimir’s feet once again, heading to the steps she’s hiding under. She stays frozen, hugging her towel close around her body as Qimir turns the corner. She catches his eyes, dark and furious, but still restrained. He breathes in hard through his nose, as though the sight of her sets him off all over again, but he doesn’t stop. Osha waits under the stairs for a few seconds longer, then goes to her room to change.

~~~

The rest of the day is long and mostly uneventful compared to Osha’s jump off the bow and subsequent rescue. Yord has inserted himself into the tale in a way that’s almost impressive; describing the current as though it was a threat to him as much as it was to her. But Osha doesn’t care much, as her mind keeps wandering back to how tightly Qimir held her and how furious he was when confronting the Captain.

He has disappeared again into the belly of the beast, and Osha desperately wants to go see him, if just to thank him. But when Lowa tells her to take an hour for her break, Osha’s pulled into the laundry room by Yord.

“Hey, can we talk?” he asks. The sound of the machines and the stacks of fabric all over easily muffles conversations. 

“Sure…” she responds, not certain where this is going, and hoping it’s not—

“We should go on a date. You and me, tomorrow night.”

—that.

“On our night off? I thought all the crew were going out together.”

“Yeah, but…” He smiles at her, flirtatious and charming. “I thought maybe just the two of us could get to know each other… away from the crew.”

“Do you know if Qimir is going to be there? I haven’t gotten to thank him for today and I was thinking maybe I’d buy him a drink when we’re out.”

Yord’s face contorts into a frown. “Qimir? Qimir doesn’t leave the boat. He’s like… a part of it or something.”

Osha sighs. She should’ve known. “I mean… yeah we can maybe have a drink together, just us.”

“Great! It’s a date.” Yord puts up a fist for her to bump and Osha reluctantly responds, fist-bumping the poor boy. She doesn’t want to see Yord upset or hurt from something she does, so splitting off from the group just for one drink won’t be such a bad thing. Being around him isn’t a chore, and he’s also easy on the eyes. 

Besides, Qimir won’t be around, so what else is she to do?

~#~

Qimir takes a sip of his own special blend of Pu-erh, mate, cocoa, and ginger tea as he searches the control panel for whatever alarm is sounding off. It happens often on boats like these, and this one especially, given its age. Fifteen years he’s been with The Dreadnought, and the beast still throws him curveballs now and then. He figures this is what marriage must be like—you know every dark corner, every deep secret, every nook and cranny of them, but you’re still discovering what actually makes them, well, them. 

A new light flashes and another alarm is beeping, causing him to rush over to the engine. The alarms are never-ending, which is precisely why he sleeps in here. Even on anchor watch, he’s glued to the screen which indicates any alarms coming from the engine room—his room. Most are quick fixes: plumbing issues, heat levels, or threatening vibrations. Others are more painstaking, requiring hours of work: salt water in places it shouldn’t be, an overloaded generator, or dangerously low fuel levels. 

Qimir finds the issue and bangs his fist on a pipe which is being held together with duct tape, stopping it from vibrating and cancelling both alarms. He smiles, then takes another sip of his tea. The beast again vibrates at a steady, familiar thrum, and Qimir loves it. 

~#~

After the guests have gone to bed, and Osha finishes cleaning up, she sneaks up to the Bridge, hoping to find Qimir there. She’s disappointed when she finds it empty, but still approaches the various screens, looking for the knot speed. After a while, she finally spots it, and it confirms they’re only dealing with five knots. 

Bummer, she thinks, finding it somewhat humorous that she wishes they were in danger so Qimir had to be on watch tonight. She laughs to herself, then turns to go back downstairs, when a large, ominous figure in the doorway causes her to nearly jump out of her skin.

A light clicks on, revealing the Captain. 

“Captain Sol, you scared the hell out of—.”

“Osha, why are you up here?”

“I was just… finishing up in the salon, and I was wondering if anyone was on watch tonight.”

“Anyone?”

Osha bites her tongue. “Yeah.”

Sol closes the distance between them, coming closer than what would be appropriate. “I’m sorry for frightening you today, Osha. It was not meant to go that way.”

Osha tilts her head at him, confused by his words and his pain-filled expression. “What way was it supposed to go?”

He doesn’t immediately answer, face twisting into a strange smile. “I would’ve fetched you with the tender if you drifted too far away. I was simply unaware of how strong the current was.”

Osha knows the last part is a lie, and she can’t help but shiver as his hands come up to comfort her. She backs away before he can touch her.

“It’s late. I should get some sleep.”

“Yes, please. I’m glad you’re alright.” 

Osha nods and scurries down the stairs, away from the Captain. She makes it to the door to the engine room. The hum on the other end is comforting, but she hesitates when her hand lands on the lever. There’s no movement inside, and she thinks Qimir must be trying to sleep while he can. It’s not fair to wake him, not when sleep is considered so precious on this boat.

She backs away from the door, and goes to her room, a strange feeling swimming in her gut.

~#~

Qimir smiles down at Osha as she kneels before him, taking him in her mouth. There are tears in her eyes, and it arouses him even more, seeing such a pained expression on her face. He has cracked her open, finally, and now he would use her to feel his own pain through his wicked desires. One thrust causes a pain to shoot through him, cracking along the scar on his back. Another thrust forces a gutteral sound to come up from his belly. And another thrust, gagging Osha so she cannot breathe, enrages him to the point where he thinks he’s about to erupt in flames. A fire is the most dangerous thing to happen on a floating vessel. The beast could burn to nothing in minutes. But he doesn’t care. He’ll burn the world down if it means he can feel this way… with her.

Qimir ejaculates, relief flooding over him along with a wetness on his skin which clings to his bedsheets. His eyes flutter open to his little room. His naked body is covered in sweat, and he’s made a mess of his sheets. He doesn’t think much of the dream, though he knows it must mean he needs to act on some impulse, lest he start doing things he’ll regret. 

After washing up in his tiny bathroom stall and putting on some clothes, he gathers up his sheets and heads to the laundry, knowing the rest of the crew is currently outside saying goodbye to the guests. Afterwards, they’d be counting their tips in the salon. Sol would put aside Qimir’s share as always. So Qimir figures he can at least get his sheets in the wash without having to speak to anyone. 

Unless it’s Osha. Then his plans would need to change.

Qimir stuffs the sheets in the wash and looks around for detergent.

“Oh, hey man.”

Qimir looks over his shoulder to find Yord and doesn’t hide his disappointment. 

“I’ve seen you more over the last twenty four hours than I have since, well, since I started working on this boat.”

“That’s an exaggeration.” He picks up some towels and finds a box of detergent.

“Maybe. Still, there a reason why?”

“Why what?”

“Why you’re… around. You jumped over the bow to save Osha man, don’t pretend like the whole crew doesn’t know about it.”

Qimir doesn’t answer him as he pours detergent in the dispensing tray, hoping Yord’ll just go away. He doesn’t.

“I don’t blame you, man, she is a pretty little thing,” Yord says, out of line.

Qimir slams the dispensing tray closed and glares at Yord, but the bosun doesn’t seem to notice. His mind is entirely someplace else.

“We’re going on a date tomorrow, me and Osha.”

“Aren’t you rooming with Lowa?” Qimir asks, trying to figure out Yord’s game.

“Yeah, but we’re just mates.” Something clicks in Yord’s head suddenly. “Oh, oh you mean…”

Qimir raises a brow at him. 

“Oh, yeah, we’ll just have to find somewhere else to do it.” A beat. “Hey, you probably know the best places, don’t you?” he says jokingly, but Qimir doesn’t crack a smile. Instead, he’s thinking of all the ways he can remove Yord’s head from his body.

“Come on man, give me some pointers.”

“I don’t bring strangers on the beast—I mean The Dreadnought. It’s against Captain’s orders.”

“Well… surely you’ve slept with crew before.”

He hadn’t. There’s no way the crew could know, but Qimir often leaves the beast at odd hours. He’s not a hermit, or celibate, and it’s not good for one's equilibrium to stay on a floating vessel for so long.

Qimir clears his throat. “Just… bone her in the bridge, man, I don’t know.” Even though he hadn’t yet himself, he imagined fucking Osha there, in the Captain’s chair.

Yord seems turned off by his words and responds, “The bridge… uh, thanks. Well, I’ll see you around, or not.”

When Yord finally leaves, Qimir can hear the rest of the crew descending into the crew mess so he walks faster out of the area, back to his room. All the way, he wonders why in the hell Osha would agree to go on a date with someone as dense as Yord. A pain in his stomach forms, and he quickly brews up a cup of sage and lemon tea to calm it. 

He forces forward the memory of her legs wrapped around him, her hips moving on him, then a different memory sneaks its way in: Osha looking at him with those eyes that pleaded with him. 

Maybe he had misunderstood what that meant. 

~#~

“Two thousand, three hundred, each,” the Captain says as he gives each crew member a pile of cash. Osha watches his hands move deftly as he keeps some cash aside, presumably for Qimir. Osha then does the math for herself: she now has $4,300. What the hell is she going to do with so much cash?

Lowa hands her a glass of champagne, and Osha sits upright. They’re not allowed to drink on charter, and Osha takes a long sip of the bubbly drink. Finally, they can let off some steam.

Back in her and Jecki’s cabin, Osha slides on a casual black dress that shows off her curves.

“Too much or too little?” she asks Jecki, who’s wearing a sparkly top over some jeans. 

“You look good in everything, Osha.”

“No, I meant like… is it too revealing, or?”

Jecki smiles at her and takes her hands. “Are you trying to impress anyone tonight?”

Osha blushes and shakes her head. “No, not anyone in particular. It’s just… Yord.”

Jecki’s eyes widen.

Osha sighs and starts to explain. “He asked me to get a drink with him, just the two of us. But I’m not sure I like him as much…”

“Who cares? Dress for yourself, not him, or anyone. I think you look amazing.”

Osha nods and sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. This is our night off. We should do what we want.”

“Exactly,” Jecki responds before kissing Osha on the cheek. Then her eyes glimmer with excitement. “Now come on, I wanna see what Lowa’s wearing.”

Lowa has to practically peel Jecki off of her as they walk off the boat, and Osha thinks that maybe the little blond has a thing for pretty women in short skirts. She laughs as Jecki rejoins her side, linking arms with her. She’s relieved, since this will keep Yord at bay. 

“I guess everyone wanted to come out tonight,” Jecki says, looking at the crew ahead.

“Everyone except Captain, Chef, and—.” Osha hears someone hopping down from the boat. 

She stops and turns slightly, spotting a dark silhouette and instantly recognizing Qimir.

“Is that the Chief Engineer?” Jecki asks quietly.

Osha starts walking again, pulling Jecki along with her. “Yeah, that’s Qimir.”

“I thought he never left the boat,” Jecki says.

“He doesn’t. Or, at least, he doesn’t when people are around.”

“You think he only leaves late at night? Like a vampire?”

“I think he’d have to.” Osha imagines Qimir sneaking off the boat through some strange exit she doesn’t know about. Does he party at clubs? Does he pick up women? He certainly can’t take them back to his cot on the floor in the engine room, so she assumes he gets a room onshore for the night. 

“Hello? Osha?” Jecki asks, waving her hand in Osha’s face as they continue to walk behind the group.

“What? Sorry, did you say something?”

“I asked if you wanted to start with shots.” There’s a sparkle in Jecki’s eyes, mischievous and playful, and Osha smiles back at her, hoping Qimir will be her shadow tonight.

###

The outdoor bar overlooks the water, and Qimir can see The Dreadnought from here, a comforting view. 

He also keeps an eye on the crew across the bar. Only Jecki and Osha seem to know he is present, and he likes it that way, taking a sip of his whisky as he observes. It doesn’t take long for him to be approached by two attractive young women, clearly tourists on vacation. They’re impressed with his role on a super yacht and he flirts back shamelessly, letting them buy him drinks. He’s used to this—random women at bars, drinks, maybe a little dancing, and then going back to their hotel. 

He has just three rules: no locals, no escorts, and no phone numbers. The beast occasionally gets a little jealous for his attention, but Qimir’s always back before there’s any real issue. He would say “a man has needs” but it’s not like that at all. Qimir just wants to talk to someone, and to feel their skin. Being on the beast is peaceful, but maybe a little lonely. Every now and then he just wants to crack someone open and get inside of them, in more ways than one. There’s nothing more thrilling than two people chasing desire together. 

And so now, he sips his whisky and keeps his options open, just in case Osha forgets about him. Just in case she decides to go back to the beast with the bosun.

~#~

After an hour of drinking and chatting with the crew, Yord pulls Osha aside. He hands her a fresh drink and gestures to a quieter corner, away from the others. She hesitates, shooting a glance over at where she knows Qimir is sitting. She’s shocked to find him clinking glasses with two women, and the sticky feeling of jealousy pours into her stomach. She shakes her head and continues to the table with Yord, trying to focus her attention on the man in front of her.

They chat about boring things. Then inconsequential things. Then things that Osha has no real interest in, and Osha finds her eyes drawing to Qimir like a magnet to metal. He’s whispering in one of the girl’s ears now, his hand wrapped around her waist, and that pretty much does it for her.

Osha stands from the table, excusing herself to the restroom, and walks towards the bar, where Qimir’s sitting. But she quickly loses her nerve, continues walking past him, refusing to look at him as she goes straight to the bathroom. Closing the stall door behind her, she takes a deep breath and pulls out her phone. She has one new notification—her sister. She remembers her question and panics.

“Have you ever hooked up with a crew member?”

Mae replied, “Everyone does.”

Osha smiles, a little relieved but still frustrated at her current predicament.

She texts back, “I like this guy but he’s flirting with some tourists.”

“Tell him you like him. Charter seasons are too short to dance around the obvious.”

She’s right. Osha texts back a heart emoji and walks out of the stall, looking in the mirror. Her makeup is darker than how she wears it on the boat and she admits to herself that she looks pretty damn hot. Even downright dangerous if she plays her cards right. 

She opens the door of the bathroom and runs into a dark figure. Her hands recognize him and she looks up at him, wishing things were simpler.

“Sorry,” she says, trying to move around him. She gets a whiff of his scent—whisky, citrus, and a faint trace of diesel and salt water. She wonders if the smell of the engine room ever comes out of his skin. 

Qimir narrows his eyes at her but moves out of her path. She lets out a breath once she's past him and heads back to the crew’s table, where Yord has also ended up. They're playing a game of Never Have I Ever and Osha orders another drink so she can join. 

Out of the corner of her eye, though, she senses Qimir approaching the table, slowly, as though he'll frighten the crew if he does so too suddenly. Osha lets out an audible sigh. 

“Are you joining us or what?” she says, drawing the crew's attention to him. 

Qimir gives her an approving look and sits down in the empty chair across from her, between Lowa and Kel who visibly recoil at his presence. But Osha leans forward, recognizing an opportunity when she sees it.

“So, Qimir, tell us about working on the boat. What do you do all day, anyway?”

Qimir’s eyes lift up to meet Osha’s, and it’s a look that she’s seen from him over and over again—questioning, solving, wanting. Then he looks around at the crew, expression changing to something more friendly and casual.

“The beast is old, very old,” he says. “She needs… near constant attention and maintenance.”

Lowa clears her throat, crossing her arms over her chest. “Then why are you not there now?” she asks in her usually stern tone.

Qimir smiles. “We’re on shore power, which eliminates about half of the things that could go wrong.”

“What could go wrong when we’re at the dock?” Torbin asks from the far side of the table, his boyish face contorted into concern, maybe even fear.

Qimir shrugs. “Hull could leak. Fire could spark from a faulty wire. Or just, you know, things could rattle to the point of falling apart.”

“Aside from your time on the boat, what qualifies you to ensure those things don’t happen?” Yord asks from Osha’s side in an unfriendly tone. She looks at him, confused, but then sees how his body had tensed suddenly. He is challenging Qimir. “Do you even have an engineering degree?”

A smile tugs on Qimir’s mouth, but he faces Yord, accepting the challenge. “Nope.”

“Then how did you even get the job?”

“Yord,” Lowa warns, but Yord waves her off. 

“No, I wanna know. Do you even know what you’re doing half the time?”

“Okay, let me explain what qualifies me, then. Some engineering secrets from me to you.” He holds up a finger. “One, always use the right tool for the job.” He holds up a second finger. “Two, the right tool is always a hammer.” He holds up a third. “Three, anything can be used as a hammer, Yord.”

Osha lets out a laugh, breaking the tension, and some of the others can’t help but join in. But Yord is glaring at Qimir, his hands balled into fists. The situation seems precarious. The Chief Engineer outranks the bosun, so if Yord decides to bite back, he could be in serious trouble. Osha places a hand on Yord’s shoulder, a soothing gesture, and Yord unfurls his fists, standing.

“Let’s take this to the boat’s hot tub,” he says, not looking to Qimir.

Lowa stands, agreeing, “Yes, please.”

The rest of the crew starts to leave, but Qimir doesn’t, so Osha hesitates, staying seated. Perhaps it’s the liquid courage, or the boost she’s gotten from her sister, but Osha is pretty sure she’s about to tell Qimir she likes him. 

“Osha, you coming?” Jecki calls.

“I’ll catch up in a bit,” she answers. There's tension again around Yord, but Lowa looks from Qimir to Osha and back to Qimir, likely putting things together. She grabs Yord before he can say anything and pulls him away, and soon the crew are far from them, walking back to the boat.     

“You don't want to get in the hot tub?” Qimir asks.

“You don't want to go flirt with those tourists?” She gives him an accusatory look. 

Qimir drums his fingers on the table before downing the last of his whisky. “We should catch up with the crew.”

Osha’s face falls, but she stands with Qimir and follows him out of the bar. They start the walk back to the boat, and Osha matches Qimir’s leisurely pace. 

“Why didn’t you go back to the girls?” Osha asks. “They seemed to like you.”

Tell him you like him, idiot.

Qimir runs a hand through his hair then holds a finger up, answering, “Ah, you’re right, I do like getting laid.” He turns, pretending to go back to the bar when Osha playfully grabs his arm. He turns into her pulling her closer in a chuckle, then casually letting her go.

“You’re infuriating,” she says through a laugh, then, realizing she’s touching him, reluctantly lets go of his arm. They walk a little further together, feet hitting the dock which creaks under their feet.

“Did you enjoy your date with Yord?” Qimir asks. It’s an awkward question, and it takes Osha by surprise.

“I wouldn’t call that a date.”

“That’s what he called it.”

Osha stops and turns to face him. “Is that why you were flirting with those women? To make me jealous because you heard about the date?”

“Jealous? Osha…” He stops walking and she slows to a stop as well, her chest tightening at the sound of her name in his mouth. His hand comes up to her chin, tilting her face into the moonlight. And although his face is cast in shadow, Osha can sense his familiar intensity.

“Osha, were you jealous?”

Osha clenches her jaw and turns her face away from him. 

Just tell him! A voice screams inside of her. Just say yes!

“Maybe a little,” she says into the darkness, finally admitting something. “But that’s not your fault.” It comes out quiet and almost sad.

Qimir continues walking to the boat, and Osha does too, lost in self-deprecating thoughts. A gloom sits over them as they come under the shadow of The Dreadnought. The night is over. They'll have to rejoin the crew, Qimir will have to go back to looking over the engine. And Osha thinks she's failed—lost the opportunity to tell him how she really feels.

But then Qimir takes a turn, heading further down the dock, his pace picking up into a quick stride. 

She questions, “Where are you going…?” He turns, checking she’s following, then rubs his chins as he continues. She sees a flash of teeth—a smile. Her feet move without thought, following him to the end of the dock, and something bubbles under the surface. Something wicked and wonderful. When she reaches the end of the dock, he turns around to face her.

“Come here,” he whispers, before pulling Osha to him. She sucks in a breath and her heart skips a beat as he wraps his arms around her, cradling her neck and pulling her into a kiss. 

Osha relaxes into his arms, relief washing over her as they stay lip-locked. The hair on his face tickles her lips and cheeks, and his tongue presses through, his mouth tasting of tea and sugar. She smiles into the kiss, wanting to stay like this forever. Her fingers press into his nape, pushing their way into his hair, causing Qimir to moan approvingly into her mouth. 

“I wanted to do this… the moment I saw you,” he says between kisses. 

“Why didn’t you?” Osha asks mischievously. 

“I had to know that you wanted it too.” His mouth moves down to her neck and Osha lets out a whine as he nibbles and sucks on a sensitive spot. No one had ever kissed her like this before, as though they wanted to devour her. The feeling of being wanted so desperately cracks a part of Osha deep inside, letting out a trickle of something dark and forgotten. There’s a threat—a torrential downpour trying to get through. And she knows it’s too much. So much grief. So much sadness. 

Too much. 

Osha pushes Qimir gently. “Wait,” she says, hesistates, then pulls him back to her, kissing him on the lips again. It feels good and right to kiss his lips; soft and sweet and… absolutely wicked. 

Dangerous.

She sucks in a breath. “We should get back to the boat. They might get concerned…” Osha says, swallowing hard. She doesn’t know what she’s just done, but she can’t take it back, doesn’t want to take it back. And yet, something’s telling her she should keep her guard up.

“Are you sure?” Qimir asks, confused. A whiplash he’s not recovering from.

Osha nods. “Yeah, I’m actually really tired.”

Qimir studies her for a moment, then slowly nods. “Alright.” He then takes her hand in his and pulls it up to his mouth, kissing it. “I’ll take you to your room.”

Osha wants more—was hoping for more—but whatever was unleashed with that kiss frightens her. She had worked for so long to forget, so long to replace each emotion with something more tolerable. All of that work was necessary to build a new life, and now it’s crumbling before her. 

But she lets Qimir pull her back to the boat, lets him pull her into another kiss, lets him lead the way down to the crew’s quarters where he hovers at her bedroom door. And it’s here where she puts her hands on him, touching his chiseled core before placing another kiss on his lips. She wants him, bad.

Qimir gets the hint and opens her bedroom door to check inside. Seeing no sign of Jecki in there, he walks in nonchalantly, then nearly picks up Osha by her hips and plops her down into the small room with him. Osha giggles, focused on his hands on her waist and how easily he could toss her around. He then reaches around her and closes the door. Her internal conflict is quelled for a moment as his kisses become more playful and less intense. And it is good, she thinks, very good. The way he softly bites her lip before kissing it. The way his hand traces along her ear, pinching her lobe and causing her to giggle into his mouth. The way his hips press into her, pushing her back against the door.

Then his hand slowly inches up to her breast, and Osha sees a point of no return, but she’s too taken by him, as if under a spell. She lets out a gasp when his hand tightens around her breast, over clothing. Qimir looks down at where he’s touching her, then watches her expression when he takes that same hand and tucks it under the top of her dress. His fingers plunge underneath her bra, finding her breast, and it feels so, so good to have him touch her this way. His cheeks have reddened, as though he's been apprehended by the same feeling: desire. Osha bites her lip as he plays with her nipple between his fingers, and she feels a slick forming between her thighs. 

But when he kisses her again, it’s more intense, and Osha lets out a whimper, causing Qimir to pull away. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks in a serious tone. 

Osha takes a deep breath, feeling overwhelmed. “I… I don’t know.”

He kisses her again, then traces her cheek with his thumb. “What do you want, Osha?”

The question gives her pause. But then she answers, “I want this.” She forces a smile before pulling him into another kiss. 

###

Something’s wrong, Qimir thinks as his tongue presses into Osha’s mouth again. She’s delightful—a better kisser than he expected—and her pretty mouth tastes of sweet berries. But he can feel her tense uncomfortably under his touch. Her shoulders raise and her breathing pitches, and he knows that something is definitely wrong.

But he can’t help himself, can’t stop himself from trying to take her all in. And so his hand dips under her dress, finding her panties as they continue to kiss. He brushes his hand over her ass, gripping the soft flesh tight for a moment before moving it back to her front, tugging on the fabric and finding a tuft of hair over her cunt. He smiles wide into the kiss, hoping she won’t protest, then plunges his fingers down to her folds. His hand is instantly soaked, and he growls into her mouth, thrilled that she would be so ready for him so quickly. 

“You’re so soaked for me,” he whispers. She lets out another whimper as his fingers start tracing lazily over her clit, but her hips buck against him, asking for more, so he doesn’t stop. 

###

Osha focuses on her pleasure, hoping the overwhelming emotions will stay at bay as she starts to undo Qimir’s pants. When she finally pulls him free, she gasps. The red-tipped erection curves up, bouncing slightly as Qimir adjusts himself. Osha puts her hands on him, hesitant, thinking of how it would feel to take all of him inside her. Her hands look small wrapped around him, and she starts to move one up and down on his shaft. Qimir appears to be too focused on her to care what she’s doing with his cock, so she simply pumps him, hoping it feels good. 

“That’s good, Osha, that’s a good girl,” he whispers, his hand still rubbing over her clit. Osha feels a swell in her chest at the words, then that dangerous feeling all over again. She’s aroused and conflicted, and she desperately wants to come. 

“Please, Qimir,” she says in a whine. 

“Please, what?” he says between clenched teeth as he watches her.

“Please… make me come,” she says, trying to continue to pump her hand on his cock, but it’s difficult as he rubs her clit faster, causing her to focus on her own pleasure. 

“That’s it, Osha, come for me.” He kisses her lips as she crests, and Osha lets out a moan into his mouth, feeling an intense pleasure pulse out from her core. The orgasm brings with it intense emotion and tears to her eyes, and Osha whimpers through the waves of pleasure. By the time she’s done, tears are running down her face, and Qimir steps away.

“On your knees,” he says, voice serious and commanding.

Overwhelmed, Osha does as he says.

“Open your mouth.” 

Osha opens her mouth, hoping she can pleasure him the way he just pleasured her. But Qimir doesn’t put himself in her mouth. Rather, he watches her closely as he pumps his length with one hand, the other reaching to hold her chin. 

“You’re so pretty when you cry,” he says, and it sets off alarm bells in Osha’s brain, but she doesn’t dare move. She doesn’t know what’s happening, but something in her has to see how it will play out.

“Stick out your tongue.”

Osha does as commanded, and watches as Qimir’s breath picks up. He’s pumping himself faster, and he places the tip of his cock on her tongue. She goes to close her mouth on him, instinctively wanting to suck him off, but Qimir makes a sound of displeasure.

“Stay still,” he says, holding her chin in place. “That’s a good girl.” Qimir then lets out a high pitched moan, followed by a low sigh, and Osha tastes the salty stream of cum as it hits her tongue and the back of her throat. 

“Fuck, Osha,” he says, quickly putting himself away and buttoning his pants before pulling her to her feet. Osha swallows a few times, tears still streaming down her face, but she feels good, cleansed, flithy. 

Qimir pulls her into a hug then searches her face, wiping her tears with his thumbs. “Where did the tears come from?” he asks, and Osha feels another sob rise to the surface. To think she could ever truly forget…

“That was intense,” she says, and she’s not sure if she’s laughing or crying, but Qimir holds her, letting her cling to him as she lets out the last of it. 

Someone tries to open the door, finding that it’s blocked, and Jecki’s voice speaks from the other side. 

“Osha? Are you in there?”

Qimir gives Osha another kiss on the lips and it speaks a thousand words to her all at once, but three words especially: Until next time. He then moves to her bathroom, opens the shower door, and presses up on a panel above.

“What in the hell are you doing?” Osha whispers at him. He winks at her and then hoists himself up and out of the cabin, replacing the panel behind him.

The door opens behind Osha again, and this time she moves out of the way, letting Jecki stumble into their room. 

“Osha? Were you talking to someone?”

“No. Yes. Myself. Sorry.” Osha moves into the bathroom and closes the door behind her, needing to wash herself up before bed. In the mirror, she finds herself disheveled and undone. Her makeup is smeared from kissing and crying. Her dress is askew. And she can see past her eyes that she’s a mess inside too. But she wants to feel what she felt again. She wants Qimir to get under skin and break something else. It was scary, intense, but it was also exhilarating, and the come down after felt like it cleansed a part of her soul, settling something dark inside. 

Despite the tears and the eruption of things she had been pushing down for years, she wants more. More of whatever that was.

Chapter Text

The next day brings with it a new charter and thus more work. Osha keeps focused on the tasks at hand, and is thankful that Qimir isn’t around to distract her. But when she’s on the sun deck, delivering espresso martinis to the six new guests, she spots a figure at the other end of the boat. 

Qimir’s looking up at the mast while speaking with Yord. It puzzles her, but she continues to serve the guests, trying to put it in the back of her mind. She goes back into the galley to get a charcuterie tray from Chef Mog and stumbles into another one of his conversations with himself.

“So these three call themselves vegan, but this one has asked for egg whites for breakfast, whereas this one wants cheese. And then the primary, oh the primary has a list of nevers as long as my arm. I suppose she could’ve just put ‘anything that’s edible’ and it would’ve been just as accurate.”

Osha approaches the charcuterie platter slowly, looking at the various meats and cheeses with suspicion. 

“Are these not… meat?”

“That one is for the meat eaters, this one—.” He pulls out another platter from behind him and places it in front of her as he says, “This one is not meat.”

“And what is it if it’s not meat?”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

Osha scrunches her nose at it as she picks it up, then takes both platters to the sun deck and places them down next to the guests where they lounge. Aside from their food preferences, they’ve been mostly easy. Just a group of women colleagues who run what Osha suspects is a pyramid scheme of sorts. Their bright pink manicures all match and their jewelry sparkles with expensive designer names, you know, just in case you couldn’t tell they can afford it. As usual, as long as they leave a fat tip, Osha doesn’t really care. 

Pip crackles behind Osha and Captain’s voice comes over the radio. “Yord, start rolling out the genoa, we’re going to sail here soon.” Osha reaches around and turns the radio down some so the guests aren’t bothered by the typical chatter. 

“We’re going to sail? Oh I can’t wait!” the woman with too much lip filler says excitedly. 

Another asks in a thick southern accent, “Are we good to stay here for sailin’?”

Osha smiles brightly. She loves when they can sail, when the wind is strong enough to pull them along. 

“You might want to hold onto something, but you’ll be fine here,” she reassures them. There’s another crackle coming from Pip, and she assumes the deckhands are getting ready to pull lines so they can sail, and Lowa and Jecki should be inside, literally battening down the hatches so things don’t tumble out of every cabinet. Osha keeps somewhat close to the guests should they need anything, then spots Qimir again. This time, he’s on the Bridge, speaking with the Captain. Something in her gut makes her feel unsure about what’s happening, and she puts Pip to her ear, listening to any radio chatter. 

But everything seems mostly normal, and Osha waits for the boat to pick up speed as the sails unravel, catching the wind. The main masts’ boon unravels the genoa sail completely and soon, they’re moving forward. The boat starts to tilt, causing the guests to grab onto whatever they can as they scream and giggle. Osha herself holds onto the railing further up the bow as she stares up at the main mast and the beautifully white sails that billow in the wind.

In that split second, she’s grateful for the job, and excited to see more of Qimir the engine room. Everything is how it should be. Until the boom starts to get bigger. 

No, Osha thinks, it’s going to hit me.

She doesn’t have any time to think, much less to react, and the boom is dangerously close, making a loud creaking sound as it jerks the boat back upright. Osha hears another sound—footsteps, running, then someone shouts her name. She looks to her left to find Qimir, holding a line tight in his hands, his whole body weight being used to keep the boom from swinging into her. 

“Osha, duck!” he says, grunting under the weight of the mast and boom. Osha drops to all fours and covers her head just as the line slips from his grip. The boom swings over her head, causing the boat to tilt more to her side. Luckily, her back’s against a railing, keeping her from sliding off the edge entirely, and she looks up as the boom swings lazily, just over a foot above her head.

Seeing that all is fine now, the guests clap, applauding Qimir as he ties the boom in place. But then there are more footsteps, and suddenly the Captain is pulling Osha up and into his arms, holding her as though she’s his child. Osha freezes, unsure what is happening as the man brushes her shoulders in a comforting manner. 

“I’m fine, Captain, really,” she says when he doesn’t let go. 

Captain Sol peels himself away, finally, and Osha looks up at him, confused. 

“I was so… worried,” he says. “I should have checked the mast prior to sailing.” 

“It’s fine, really,” she says, looking over Sol’s shoulder at Qimir, who can’t hide his seething. 

~~~

After Osha is given a break in the afternoon, she heads straight for the engine room. It's becoming the safest place on the boat for her, even though she knows it's technically, probably not. 

But as long as Qimir is there, it is.

She bursts through the door and into the room, the thrum of the engine wrapping around her like a warm blanket. She looks around for Qimir but doesn't immediately spot him, when an alarm starts to ring. Osha moves to the panel with the blinking light, intuition kicking in as she reads the words. It's the alternator, and this panel is saying it's failed, but the engine still roars at a satisfying hum. 

Moving on instinct, Osha opens the grate below her feet and hops down to get a better look. Then she hears something click off, and another alarm sounds. She moves quickly, spotting an external regulator.

You're the issue, aren't you?

She finds the wiring that bypasses the built-in regulator and controls the alternator. It's spinning awfully sluggishly, so Osha takes a risk, shutting it off. Then she gets to work.

###

Qimir’s on the bridge, ready to confront Sol about his actions earlier, when the engine shuts down. The two men look at the instruments in front of them, and although the battery power is keeping the lights on, the engine’s hum is no more. 

“I think you should go check on that, don't you?” Sol says while looking over his maps. 

Qimir curses under his breath, then dashes down to the engine room, hoping it's not something too serious. Otherwise, they won't be able to dock at shore tonight, which will be a problem for the guests who have to leave in the morning. It's a domino effect of bad things that can result in a bad tip. And it's not that Qimir cares so much about the cash, but he does care about keeping his job on this boat. Besides, he’s got nowhere else to go.

As he rushes into the engine room, he quickly checks the panel, then looks down, seeing the grate is open and a head of familiar reddish locs is moving underfoot. 

“Osha?” He asks, dumbfounded.

Something clicks on, starting up the engine again, and Osha sticks her head out of the space. She uses a greasy hand to scratch her nose, painting black over her golden brown skin. Qimir smiles at the irony, then squats down to meet her. 

“What the hell did you do, Greenie?” He licks a thumb and wipes her nose with it, taking off some of the grease. Osha’s nose wrinkles. 

“The external regulator needed to be reset. I think the salt build up caused it to spin off track, so I cleaned it up. Should be fine now.”

Qimir stands and gives her a hand, helping her out of the hole. 

“And how is it you know so much about engines?”

Osha smiles shyly, a sadness guarded. “It was… another life. I didn't realize boat engines would be so similar.”

Qimir grabs a fresh rag from near his cot and hands it to Osha before asking the obvious.

“Similar to…?”

Osha takes a deep breath, then answers, “Planes.”

###

Osha never wanted to take the same path as her mother. It was Mae who, as a young child, wanted to become a rocket engineer—literally. But both of the sisters had grown up encouraged to do whatever they were drawn to, and as soon as Osha got inside the underbelly of an aircraft, she was hooked. When she got into college, her mother helped secure her an internship at a major aerospace corporation, while Mae worked closer with their mother at its parent company. Osha picked up the skills quickly, and even developed a new emergency alert system for detecting abnormalities in the hull. She easily balanced her school work with the internship, and she even spoke in front of classes of her peers about the work she was doing. It all seemed perfect, that was, until the accident. 

Osha barely remembers the details now, but the smoke still singes her lungs when she’s forced back into the memory. Mother had come with a group of regulators for a tour of the new aircraft that Osha had a hand in building, and she watched them enter the craft from far away. They were inside for only a few seconds—then there was only a bright light, a ringing in Osha’s ears, then nothing. She woke to smoke and screams and sounds that made her believe the world was ending. 

And, in a way, it had. 

Mae was supposed to be there too, but Mother convinced her to stay home that day since she wasn't feeling well. They said it was an “improvised explosive device” planted by a disgruntled ex-employee who had been fired shortly before Osha started, and it didn’t matter how many times Mae told her it wasn’t her fault, Osha took on the guilt because it was easier to be mad at herself than to let the sadness in. But eventually, it flooded in, and Osha was never the same after. 

After, her life snowballed. A simple discussion about mechanics in class turned into a physical altercation with the teacher’s assistant. It was simply an annoyed shove, but it was enough to get her in massive trouble with the school. A second violent offense occurred when the guidance counselor looked at her breasts for a bit too long. She was soon expelled. She started taking antidepressants. She lost her ability to be intimate. Sex with boyfriends was impossible, and often ended her relationships before they even began. It took her years to find some new kind of normal. And when she started working on boats, she finally felt worlds away from the life she once knew, and slowly weaned herself off the meds.

She doesn’t tell Qimir any of this. Not yet, anyway. She gives him the short version of how her mother was an engineer, and how she became one too. She tells him it became a quick passion, but when he asks if she went to school for it, she dodges; says that she pursued yachting instead for the cash. A half truth. 

“So why are you a third stew? Why not apprentice an engineer?” Qimir asks, looking at her with dark, searching eyes as they stand together in the engine room.

Osha shrugs. “I wanted to try something new, I guess.” Another half truth.

Qimir simply nods, and Osha can tell he’s not entirely convinced, but he doesn’t push or pry any further. Instead, he steps back a step, taking in the image of her before him.

“You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?”

Osha presses her lips together timidly, thinking that this would definitely be the end of the fun surprises. The other stuff will likely scare him off. 

“I should get back upstairs,” she says, backing up to the door.

Before she can leave, Qimir reaches for her hand and, in an instant, Osha finds herself kissing him. His hands cradle her face as he breathes her in through the kiss, then sucks on her bottom lip slightly before he pulls away. Osha feels lightheaded, wishing they could do more, but her break is over, and Lowa will be calling for her soon. 

“To be continued?” she asks, showing her disappointment.

Qimir nods and lets her go, fingers tracing her arm down to her hands slowly, until he’s no longer touching her and Osha feels a prickling sensation on her skin. She shivers, shaking off the impulse to stay and inevitably get into trouble with him. Besides, there will be plenty of time for that over the next few weeks. As she walks back upstairs, she counts on her hands the number of charters and days off they have left in the season. She quickly surmises that, yes, it doesn’t have to be today. They’ll have plenty of time to get into trouble together.

~~~

“Osha, where were you?” Jecki asks when she sees Osha appear in the crew mess. 

“Oh, I was just… in our room.”

“No you weren’t. I checked there twice.”

“You were looking for me?”

“Yes, for crew dinner. I made your plate, it’s in the galley.” Jecki pulls Osha closer to her and whispers in her ear, “I know you were in the engine room.” When she pulls away, Jecki gives Osha a wink, then heads back up the stairs. Osha takes a deep breath, hoping Jecki can keep her mouth shut about Osha’s extracurricular activities, when she spots Qimir dashing by. He’s just a blur as she spins, trying to catch his attention, but he’s gone before she can say anything. 

“Osha, you’re on cabins. You have two hours,” Lowa says as she rushes past, in and out of the mess. Osha spins around the opposite direction, becoming dizzy, and then lets out a huff. 

“Ten four,” she says, to no one in particular. 

After she practically swallows her dinner down, much to Chef Mog’s dismay, Osha heads down to the guest cabins, mind feeling lighter than usual. The memory of her mother’s death is unpleasant, but Qimir took something from her in that moment, even if he hadn’t realized it. A piece of her grief was shared—the life that was no more. Now he knows about some of that, and it makes things easier. 

Osha tidies the beds, cleans the bathrooms, changes out the towels, restocks the toilet paper… She doesn’t mind the work. It’s hard work, and it keeps her mind preoccupied with mundane, if not tedious things. She’s working on a particularly stubborn comforter when someone enters the room. At first, she assumes it’s a guest, or one of the stews, but then she looks up, and she feels herself get hot. 

Qimir closes the door behind him and simply says, “Hey, Greenie.” He helps her with folding down the comforter so that it’s perfectly straight. 

Osha breathes in sharp through her nose, having already decided she is not going to get in trouble today, at least not because of him. 

“We shouldn’t have the door closed,” she says, not looking at him as she smooths the sheets with her hands. 

“The guests are in the water. We got some time.” He shifts his weight towards her, then away when he sees her visible frustration. 

“I still have three cabins to go after this.”

Qimir looks around the room, seeing all the things still left to do here. “Alright, I’ll leave you alone, for now. But keep walking around like that, and I’ll have to see to it that you’re punished.” He says it playfully, but there’s a hint of something predatory underneath.

Osha lets out a laugh. “Walking around like what?” she asks, exasperated. 

Qimir comes closer, looking down at her with a mischievous expression, his eyes smiling and lip curling into a grin. Osha looks up at him, waiting, then feels a sharp pain on her backside.

“Ouch!” she says, reaching back to rub the fleshy part of her ass that he’s pinched. 

“Did that hurt?”

“Yes!”

“Do you want a safe word?”

Osha opens her mouth, then closes it, realizing what he’s offering. She swallows hard before answering quietly, “Yes.” 

“Pick a safe word. Whatever it is, if you say it, I stop.”

“Does that include the teasing?” Osha snorts a laugh, but she sees his expression change to something more serious.

“Of course.” His eyes search her face, and Osha thinks that this man could never hurt her. But she’d be insane not to take this lifeline. She doesn’t know the extent of his depravity, and she doesn’t know her own limits either. Words jumble in her brain, things that are too silly, and things that are used too much in casual conversation.

“Snow,” she says. “It won’t snow during charter season, so…”

“True.” Qimir starts to leave, seeming satisfied, but Osha realizes something.

“What about you?”

Qimir turns. “You think I need a safe word?” He seems almost offended. 

“Well that seems a bit unequal, don’t you think?”

Qimir thinks for a moment, then says, “Scuttlebutt.”

Osha lets out a laugh. “Scuttlebutt? Isn’t that the old sailor’s version of, like, water cooler talk?”

“I’m impressed you know what it is.”

“Come on, it’s silly.”

Qimir closes the space between them once again and takes her chin in his fingers. “I doubt I’ll ever be using it.” He kisses her nose. “You still smell like grease.”

“You mean like you?”

“Well when you put it that way,” he growls, before pulling her close to him. 

“Nope, snow, snow, snow.” Osha can’t help but let out a giggle as he reluctantly lets her go. 

“Fine. See you later, Greenie.”

“Stop calling me that!” she says, annoyed, but still laughing as he exits the room with a goofy smile on his face. 

~~~

With the first cabin finally finished, Osha finds a mess in the second and sighs. The Guests staying here had spilled red wine on the bed. They had only been on the boat for a few hours, and Osha’s already stripping their sheets. She moves to the laundry to stuff them in the wash, when she feels a hand on her ass. She has no time to react when another comes around to grab her throat. She tenses, unable to see who is behind her, but she knows. 

She can smell the salt and the diesel.

“I told you,” he says, lips brushing her ear as he continues, “If you keep walking around like that, I’ll have to punish you.”

The hand that’s on her ass momentarily leaves and then smacks down on the fleshy part. Osha feels her ass redden, but it doesn’t hurt even a little. She arches her back slightly, and Qimir’s hand comes down again, this time harder, and Osha can’t help but smile. Qimir gives her a quick glance, seeing her smile, and his eyes glimmer.

“You like being punished?” he asks, and Osha can hear a thrill in his voice, making her even more aroused. 

“Yes,” she responds, hoping he’ll spank her again. She doesn’t know what’s come over her, but since he told her to get on her knees the night prior, she’s fine with relinquishing control—of her body, of herself. 

They’re both staring into each other's eyes, tense and horny, when a voice sounds from the mess just around the corner. They separate like shrapnel, and Qimir soundlessly walks away, leaving Osha with a warm ass, wet panties, and still three cabins to finish. But it’s good, because Osha isn’t getting into trouble today.

~~~

It’s late, and Osha finishes cleaning up after the guests have already gone to bed. The whole boat is asleep now, and as bad as Osha wants to go find Qimir, she doesn’t. Rather, she goes straight to bed, curling up with her phone and typing “BDSM” into the search bar. Osha’s familiar with certain aspects of bondage and power dynamics in sex, but with her lack of a sex life, she never had a reason to try anything. There are toys. There are safe words. And there are dynamics of control. As curious as she is, Osha hopes she hasn’t gotten into something that she’s not prepared for, but as she reads on, she keeps seeing the words “trust” and “consent” and it fills her with something warm and wicked. 

She silently watches a video of a bound woman being spanked, then reaches down to touch herself as the spanking turns into fingering and, eventually, fucking. It’s rough, and Osha feels herself being so aroused by it that she doesn’t need much stimulation in order to come. She takes her hand in her mouth as she comes, biting it firmly lest she make a sound. The pressure—a threat of pain but not pain itself—helps drive forth her orgasm, and she slowly bucks her hips on the waves of pleasure. 

~~~

“I’ve never seen the Chief Engineer out so much. Isn’t he usually glued to the engine?” Torbin says to Kel as they eat lunch in the crew mess. Osha was lost in thought in the laundry, but the mention of Qimir makes her perk up.

“I’ve done two seasons on this boat and I never once saw him. I started counting this season, and I’ve lost count!” Kel responds. Osha sees someone pass by the laundry quickly, approaching the two deckhands. 

“Hey Yord, have you ever seen the Chief Engineer so often?” Tor asks.

“Why is everyone always talking about him like he’s some kind of celebrity? Guy freaks me out.” Yord responds, and Osha feels red in her cheeks as she overhears them.

“Lowa said he’s nothing more than a grease monkey,” Torbin says.

Yord answers, “More like a grease gremlin,” and that’s the last straw.

Osha steps out from the laundry, an anger brewing in her belly. “That grease gremlin does more for this vessel in an hour than you do in a day.”

The three look at her with their mouths open, surprised that she’d defend Qimir, or likely surprised that she’d say anything at all. 

Yord’s eyes narrow. “Osha, you gotta admit that he’s a bit of a creep.”

“Calling someone names just because you don’t understand them is childish.”

“Oh, and you understand him?”

Osha’s jaw tenses. I want to, she thinks. She turns to leave before growling, “Immature brats,” under her breath, just loud enough for them to hear. Luckily, the three scatter not long after, and she doesn’t hear any further talk about the Chief Engineer. 

On one hand, Osha knows that there’s some truth to what they’re saying. Qimir is a bit strange, and him living next to the engine, sneaking around when people are asleep, can seem like “creepy” behavior. A violent rage crackles under his skin, and she knows the power he wields over the crew as the only person who truly knows how the boat operates, and that must frighten them in some way. But on the other hand, Osha sees passion that she’s never known before. The way he looks after the engine, and the way he acknowledges conflict and obstacles head-first. He coaxes a passion in her as well, nurtures it and plays with it. He’s a predator to those who won't understand and a lover to those who are curious. 

She knows this much is true. 

~#~

“The starboard anchor’s winch is jammed,” Sol’s voice cracks on the radio. 

Qimir brings his radio to his mouth and answers, “Qimir. I’m on it.” He waits to hear Sol ask for one of the deckhands instead, but Sol doesn’t respond, and Qimir happily climbs up to the top deck. The sun’s warmth feels good on his skin, better than usual, and Qimir takes a deep breath of the fresh, salty air. He and The Dreadnought have been together for many years now, and he often takes for granted the views one gets from the water, especially when they’re in the Mediterranean. The sheer cliffs of light stone, the colorful buildings that line the shore, and the ruins that dot the landscape. 

“It’s beautiful,” he says to himself.

“What was that?” Lowa says nearby.

Qimir shakes his head. “Nothing, just admiring the view.” He kneels down at the winch and starts to inspect it as Lowa approaches him closer. She's got a handful of towels and the look of someone on a mission. 

“What’s going on with you and Osha?” she asks, seriously, but the familiar sternness is oddly not present. 

Qimir looks up at her, squinting against the sun. “Something good, I hope.”

Lowa puts a hand on her hip, waiting for a different answer. 

“If you’re worried that I’ll distract her from her work, don’t be. Osha is—”

“You’ve never shown any interest in the crew until now. Why her?”

He almost scoffs. Isn’t it obvious? “Because she’s…” Qimir suddenly can’t find the words. She’s beautiful? She’s smart? She’s sexy? They all feel like cheap reasons. Then, he recalls how she stumbled into the engine room and the way her eyes danced on him, and the words just tumble out of him. 

“She sees me.”

Lowa presses her lips together and looks away from him. “Are you going to tell her?”

“I don’t think she’s ready for—”

“If you’re going to fuck her, you need to tell her.”

Qimir nods and holds his hands up in surrender. “You’re right, I will.”

Lowa gives him a curt nod, then walks away. There’s a familiar hot feeling coiling in his chest, tightening as he tries to loosen the winch with force alone. If Osha finds out the truth about why he’s been on this boat for fifteen years, he knows she’ll no longer want to see him. Once she finds out there’s absolutely no future for them, the engine room will once again be his only refuge.

A dark thought forms. He just started this with Osha—just began to play with her. He takes a rag from his back pocket and begins to clean the salt away from the chain. A simple conclusion repeats in his mind.

She can’t know.

It’s the only way. And once charter season is over, and Osha has to move on, he’ll ask her to stay with him. In the engine room. Sol would never allow it, and Osha wouldn’t want that kind of life, but it doesn’t matter. For now, Qimir allows himself to imagine things that could never be, when in the back of his mind he knows he’ll never see her again.

~#~

When Osha finally gets an hour break, she heads straight for the engine room, not caring if anyone sees her, or if Qimir is actually not in there. The room has become her friend as much as Qimir, and she again feels strangely safe when she steps inside. 

“I was hoping you’d get a break,” Qimir says. Osha turns to find him standing in the doorway of the little room he sleeps in. He’s got a thermos in his hands and he takes a long sip. 

“What are you drinking?” Osha asks.

He gives her a look. “You won’t like it.”

“Give it,” she says, reaching for the thermos. He reluctantly hands it to her and she takes a sip. It’s smooth and earthy, and Osha winces, handing it back to him.

“I told you.”

“Blegh. You drink that voluntarily?”

“Hey, I blended these flavors together myself. It’s perfectly suited to my tastes, not yours.”

Osha steps closer to him. “Could you blend something according to my tastes?”

Qimir wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her even closer. “If that’s what you desire.” He places a soft kiss on her nose. “That is what you shall have.”

Osha smiles, feeling hot all over, but especially where Qimir is touching her. He’s not actively playing his dominating role, and Osha thinks that she likes this side of him too—domestic and cuddly. It makes it easier for her to say what’s on her mind.

“I wanted to talk about… things.” She looks around for somewhere to sit, but there’s only Qimir’s tiny cot on the floor. She watches him crawl inside the little closet. He sits down and pats on a space next to him. 

He sighs as she starts to crawl over next to him. Before now, he hid this behind the door. She feels lucky to be invited in. “Welcome to my humble abode.”

Osha looks around as Qimir latches the door shut behind her. To call it a closet would be an exaggeration. She assumes the space was meant for tools and materials that couldn’t be stored so close to the engine. The twin cot barely fits and has to tuck under the shelving on one end. But it’s clean, dry, and it smells more like tea and sugar than of salt and diesel, so Osha leans against a shelf and wraps a blanket over her legs. 

“Comfortable?” Qimir asks, criss-crossing his legs.

“Yes, actually. It’s small, but…” She looks up at the various items on the shelving. There are clothes, glass jars of tea leaves, some pantry items, and some toiletries. “It’s not terrible.”

A smile tugs at Qimir’s lips before he asks, “So, you want to talk?”

Osha takes a deep breath, thinking of all the things she wants to ask and to say. But she starts with something simple. “Have you done this sort of dom and sub thing before?”

It’s Qimir’s turn to get comfortable, and he takes some of the blanket Osha’s using and lays it over his lap. “I have. With multiple partners.”

“So you like it—the dominating part.”

“I like it because my partners like to be submissive.” His expression changes, and he looks at Osha more intently. “Do you like it when I take control, Osha?” He takes a sip of his tea, waiting for her response. 

“I do. I don’t have to think. I just… am. And I’m… wanted. It feels good.”

He nods. “And that’s what I like. I feel good when you feel good.”

Osha slowly nods, but she’s not entirely satisfied with the answer. And as if Qimir can read her mind, he clears his throat before adding, “Having control over someone’s body does… arouse me, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Osha feels a thrill prickle across her skin. “Do you think there’s a reason for that?” She’s thinking of her own need for letting go, and wonders if it’s something similar. The other side of the same coin.

“Probably something about an absent father, a strict mother, and a need to have… some kind of control in my life.”

“You don’t have control in your life?”

Qimir gives her a curious look. “Let’s just say that I’m here, on The Dreadnought, to pay off some debts. I wasn’t the smartest kid—with money. Made some bad deals. So now I’m trying to earn enough to pay it back.”

It seems a likely story, and Osha takes it at face value. She has no reason to think he’s lying.

“So now you live here,” she says.

“Yeah.” He looks around, then draws his stare back to her. “It’s much nicer with you here.”

Osha’s eyes widen, realizing she's in his bed. She watches as he puts down his tea on a shelf and then reaches under the covers. His hands wrap around her ankle and he grunts as he drags her closer to him. Osha lets out a tiny yell as she’s pulled across the cot, a thrill snaking its way up her body. He then pulls her up into his lap, adjusting himself so their legs are wrapped around each other. 

“You remember when we were in the current?” he asks, his arms wrapping around her. 

“When you made me wrap my legs around you?” Osha can’t help but stare at his lips. She wants to taste him, so badly. 

“You rocked your hips on me, and I knew you wanted more.” A hand comes to hold her ass, making it easy for her to move, so she does. Osha moves her hips ever so slightly and Qimir practically purrs in response, a little breathy moan escaping from his mouth. 

“That’s it, Osha, show me how good you are at moving those hips. Show me how bad you want it.” He reaches down to adjust himself so that his cock is upright and Osha finds it more easily, rubbing her sensitive spot on his firm cock. Qimir’s jaw tenses and he grunts approvingly as she moves on him. She wishes he would remove the clothing between them, but the sensation is more than enough to quickly make her lost in her own pleasure. 

###

Qimir watches her closely as she moves on him. He can tell she’s trying her hardest. Wanting more friction, she grasps his shoulders and back, pulling herself up and down in his lap, forward and backward. She struggles a little, and it’s ridiculously cute. He teases her, coming close enough to kiss her, then pulling away, licking his lips. After he does this a second time, Osha whines. Her breathing is ragged and the little noises she’s making drive Qimir insane, but he stays as he is, commanding her to continue.

“I want you to come on me, like this. Make yourself come on me, can you do that for me?” His hand on her ass is helping her move and he adds another around her waist, making it even easier. 

Osha breathes out a “Yes” and continues. The friction feels good on Qimir’s length, but he’s far more aroused by watching her move, struggle and whine. 

“So filthy, sneaking in here to rub yourself on me just so you can come.” He can tell his words are having an effect on her as she whimpers in response. He smiles. Qimir had hoped with every part of himself that she would want this, but he hadn’t imagined that she would warm up to it so quickly. Her golden skin is glistening with sweat, and her eyes are watery with tears. She’s holding them back, and Qimir can’t have that.

“Stop,” he says, and Osha stops, looking at him with wide eyes and an open mouth. They’re both breathing hard and heavy. “If you need to cry, then cry. Don’t hold anything back.”

Osha swallows, tears swelling in her eyes. She then tucks her head into the crook of his shoulder and lets out a rough sob. Qimir wants to just let her cry, but Osha’s hips move on him again, and he feels a thrill in his belly. 

“That’s it, Osha. Let it out.” Qimir grunts as he grabs onto her ass, helping her move on him once again. She sits back up, and Qimir sees the tears falling down her face. It’s not as much as the last time, but it still gives him an odd sensation—arousal at the swell of emotions, but concern for why. Unable to help himself, he kisses her where the tears fall on each cheek, then plants one firmly on her lips. 

Osha starts to crest suddenly, her breath picking up and her moans coming out more loudly. Qimir watches as an orgasm cracks through her, causing her to grip him more tightly. She whines like it feels good, like it’s broken something inside. He kisses her again as she comes down from it.

“Good girl,” he says, showering her with affection; hands on her face, kisses all over. “I knew you could, you’re so good.” 

Osha smiles and goes to wipe her tears away, but Qimir catches her hand in his then gently places it back behind her. 

“We’re not done yet,” he says, taking both of her wrists together. He reaches around his head and grabs a belt. He watches Osha carefully as he wraps the belt around her arms, just over her elbows, so that she’s bound with her hands behind her back. He fastens the belt in place and pulls on it, testing the strength of it. 

“There we go. How does that feel?” 

Osha wriggles, feeling out the bonds. “Tight,” she says, the word sounding as slick and as sweet as the folds between her legs. Qimir’s cock twitches, needing attention. He hoists her up out of his lap in one quick movement, then stands in front of her, undoing his pants. The sight of her on her knees and bound is enough to make his hands shake, and Osha sees how his fingers struggle with the button on his pants.

“I would help, except…” she says as she wriggles against the bonds again.

“You remember your safeword?”

“You remember yours?”

Qimir raises his brows at her, his hands steadying against his pants as he regains his control and says, “Bratty Osha. I can work with that.” He takes his cock out and holds it, hesitating. Osha sticks out her tongue, looking up at him with those doe-like brown eyes.

“You won’t be able to say anything when my cock is deep in your throat.” He thinks for a moment. “You snap your fingers if you need to stop, okay?”

Osha nods, licking her lips before pressing out her tongue again.

Qimir feels a burst of energy at the view and wastes no more time, forcing his cock into Osha’s mouth. She opens wide for him and he starts to thrust in and out, holding her head gently as he does so. Osha gags when he goes in deeper, and the sound makes something deep and dark in his gut roar to the surface. 

“I love seeing you like this: bound and gagged.”

He fucks her mouth like this for a while, sometimes slowly, sometimes faster, checking her face for signs of pain. But Osha is good at this—too good—and Qimir feels himself getting close to coming. 

“That’s it, Osha, you’re doing so good taking my cock in your throat. Just a little bit longer.” He sees tears in her eyes again, but if it’s from her own emotions or just from the lack of air, he can’t be sure. Either way, he chases his orgasm down her throat, feeling her pillowy lips on the flare of his cock. Something deep inside him wants to feel what she feels, wants to let out the sadness and the rage that he is also familiar with. But he holds back, keeping his emotions in check, worried that he could hurt her. He refocuses on that pretty little mouth. 

“Fuck, Osha, you’re mouth is so… perfect for me.” He grunts again, feeling himself getting closer. A tear falls from Osha’s eye and he wipes it, licking his thumb before sucking in a sharp breath. “God, you’re gorgeous.” He growls, feeling the pressure rise in his core, then lets out a moan as he comes over the edge. His hips buck twice more into her mouth and then he holds himself there, hoping she can hold her breath for a moment longer as he comes down her throat. When he pulls out, he inspects her face for discomfort. 

Osha coughs a little, then looks up at him. She’s smiling, but clearly in a daze. He gets to his knees and undoes the belt around her arms.

“Oh fuck,” she finally says, rubbing her arms.

“Are you okay? Did it hurt at all?”

Osha shakes her head. “Not really. I can’t believe I still have my clothes on.”

Qimir pinches her nose playfully. “Maybe next time."

Osha cracks her neck to both sides and Qimir instinctively reaches around to the top of her spine, massaging it with one hand. She lets out a moan, then pulls out her phone to check the time. 

“Five more minutes until I’m back to slaving away.”

Qimir snorts. “As opposed to being here, where you’re still slaving away.”

“That’s different.” 

Qimir smiles and sits back on the cot, feeling buzzed and blissful. Osha turns to him, a question on her lips.

“You don’t have a phone, do you?” she asks, waving her own.

Qimir shakes his head. “I use the computer for necessary things.”

“Like porn,” she says matter-of-factly.

Qimir squints at her. “No.” She gives him a stern look and Qimir adds, “Sometimes.”

There’s an annoying thought poking in the back of his mind, and he finally forces himself to say something.

“Osha… are you on anything? I mean… like birth control?”

Osha shoots a side glance at him and smiles. “Are you asking if we can fuck properly?”

Qimir shakes his head. No, he wasn’t actually. “I just want to make sure you’re safe.”

Osha moves closer and leans over him, placing a kiss on his lips. It’s soft and sweet and Qimir wishes that life could just be this, forever.

“I’m safe, don’t worry. I better get back. I need to change my clothes before my shift.” Osha gets up to leave and Qimir grabs her wrist, pulling her back down to him. He guides her face to his and kisses her once more.

“I’m really glad you’re here, Osha. Really, really glad.” It comes out in a whisper, and Qimir feels like something’s choking his chest, squeezing it so tight he might burst. But he doesn’t let it out, because it’s too much too soon and Osha has to go. 

“Me too,” she answers, before kissing his nose and standing back up. She rushes out without another word, leaving Qimir alone with his jumbled thoughts. He waits until he hears the door to the engine room latches shut and then takes a deep breath. A thought comes up to the surface, clearer than the rest. 

Am I stupidly… 

Hopelessly… 

Honestly… 

In love?

~#~

Osha makes her way to the galley to help prep for dinner service, feeling refreshed after another adventure in the engine room. 

“Have you eaten, Osha?” Chef Mog asks as he’s putting the finishing touches on a series of dishes.

“Yeah,” she answers nonchalantly, then remembers that cum does not count as a meal. She snorts. “I mean, no.” Her stomach growls as the scents of freshly cooked food reach her nose.

“I made some lasagna for the crew. Make sure you get a piece before Kel and Torbin eat it all!” He raises his voice at the last bit, loud enough for the deckhands to hear him in mess.

“There’s still some left!” Torbin responds. 

“Good!” He looks at Osha and smiles. “It has a lovely, creamy bechamel and I used local tomatoes and ground lamb. It’s to die for.”

“I’m sure,” Osha responds, turning to grab some from the crew mess. When she approaches the chafing dish, there’s a tiny piece left, just big enough for two bites. She looks at the deckhands, who are practically licking their plates clean.

“Don’t tell Chef, he’ll murder us,” Torbin begs.

Osha leans back to see Mog is currently firing up the guests’ main course and it would not be in anyone’s best interest for his mood to take a turn for the worse, so she just shrugs. 

“I’m no snitch. It’s fine.” She stabs a fork at the last piece, taking it into her mouth all at once. It does taste delicious, and she savors it for a moment before swallowing it down with a can of Red Bull.

Lowa enters the mess, tapping Osha on the shoulder. “Osha, a moment,” she says, gesturing to the laundry room. Osha follows Lowa there, sipping on her Red Bull.

“What’s up?” she asks, seeing a concerned look on the Chief Stew’s face.

Lowa takes a deep breath, as though what she’s about to say is difficult. “I know you and Qimir are… a thing.” 

Osha starts to open her mouth to explain that it’s not impacting her work, but Lowa holds up her finger, indicating for her to close it.

“Wait. I just want to know if he told you why he’s on the boat.”

Osha recalls their talk earlier, when he told her he had debts to pay off, that he was irresponsible with money and he was making up for it.

“Yeah, we talked about it,” she says. 

“Really? He told you?”

Osha nods. “Yeah, he told me.”

Lowa takes another deep breath, sighing in relief. “Good. Good… I just want you to be certain about what you’re getting into with him.”

Osha’s never seen Lowa express so much emotion. She’s happy to see it, and even happier that Lowa seems to really care. 

“Thanks, Lowa.”

Lowa gives her a pitying expression and awkwardly pats her on the shoulder before walking away. Osha’s confused by the gesture, but quickly dismisses it when Jecki calls on the radio that the guests are ready for dinner. 

The events that follow spiral the evening into a blur. The stews put on their best show, describing the dishes, filling glasses, and communicating any last minute requests. Several of the guests failed to mention on their preference sheets that they don’t like fish, which causes Chef Mog to nearly quit on the spot. But after giving himself a pep talk, he scrounges up entirely new dishes for the picky eaters, and Osha gives him applause before serving them. By the time dessert comes around, the guests are praising the chef and they start to migrate to the sun deck. 

Lowa approaches. “Osha, Jecki is on early, so I’ve sent her down. They’ll probably be up for a while. Do you have everything you need?” 

Osha nods. The late shift again. She’s usually more energetic at night anyway. 

But as soon as Lowa disappears downstairs, the guests turn into a nightmare. Osha’s unable to keep up with their drink orders, and an hour later, they want more food. Osha offers grilled cheeses, hoping she can run on auto-pilot since she’s prepared them before, but in the back of her mind she knows the table still needs cleaning and the deck will be a mess once the guests go to bed. She tries to clean as she goes, bringing out a drink order, then grabbing things off the table before returning to the galley to collect the grilled cheeses which are burning in the panini press. 

Burning. In the panini press!

She curses and waves her hands around at the smoke, praying it won’t set off any alarms.

She plates the sandwiches on the platter with the less burnt sides facing up. Thankfully, the guests are too drunk to notice. With cheese and bread now on their stomachs, they finally start to fade, disappearing into their rooms in batches, until no one is left on the sun deck and Osha can finally finish up her shift. She’s wiping down the table when Qimir appears in the doorway, and Osha is so happy to see him, she can barely contain herself.

“Fire in the galley?” he says, arms crossed over his wide chest.

“Oh my god, you have no idea how horrible it’s been. They wanted everything. Drinks, food—they wanted me to chat with them. I still have so much to do…” Osha continues to wipe the table as she talks, suddenly feeling lightheaded. 

“Yeah, the alarm woke me up.” Qimir rubs at his face, and Osha feels awful.

“Shit, really?” 

“Don’t worry about it, it was just an initial alarm. I’m the only one who heard it.” He goes to her and puts his hands on her shoulders, fingers pressing into her flesh in a light massage. “Hey, are you alright?” He searches her face.

“I’m fine. I just need caffeine so I can finish the sun deck.”

Qimir holds her still, narrowing his eyes at her. “Osha, have you eaten anything today?”

Osha remembers the cum running down her throat, then the lasagna. She winces. “Not really.”

“Come on, Greenie.” He starts to pull her away from her work and Osha doesn’t protest. They reach the galley quickly and Qimir sits her down on a stool. 

“I’m fine, really,” she says as she watches him open the galley pantry, looking for something.

“No, you’re not. Engines can’t run without fuel, sails can’t billow without wind, and Osha can’t run without…” He pulls out a container of something that looks fancy and waves it in her face.

“Food,” she says, finishing his sentence.

“Exactly. I can’t believe you’d forget to feed yourself. Food is so good.”

“I didn’t have time to—”

“You have to make time.” Qimir kisses her on the nose and his familiar scent makes Osha flush. She’s becoming quite attached to this man and she thinks she’ll never be sick of him. She watches silently as Qimir heats up the dish. When it’s on a plate, Osha recognizes it from the previous night’s dinner: lobster risotto. She licks her lips.

“You think Chef will notice it’s missing?” she asks as she scoops up some of the risotto and places it in her mouth. She makes an approving sound. 

“He’ll get over it. It’s going to a good cause, after all.”

Osha nods and eats the entire plate as they talk about Osha’s evening. They make a bet on how big of a tip they’ll get, and doing the math in her head makes the exhaustion fall on Osha like a weighted blanket. She rubs her eyes. 

“We should get you to bed,” Qimir says, holding his hand out to her. 

Osha takes it and hops off the stool, then gasps as Qimir picks her up, throwing her over his shoulder. She lets out a giggle, muffled by her hand as she tries to keep quiet. His hand is firmly on her ass, but it’s not a long walk to her cabin, and he sets her down in front of her door without escalating it further. They hesitate there, staring at each other. Osha’s mind is still in a fog, needing sleep, but she can’t help herself.

“Will you stay with me? Just for a minute?”

Qimir looks back towards the engine room. “What about your roommate?”

“Jecki sleeps with headphones on.” She smiles, and she sees a similar smile tug at Qimir’s mouth.

“Let me go check on her—the engine, I mean. I’ll be back.” He sets off towards the engine room at a fast pace and Osha carefully opens the door to her room. As usual, Jecki’s sound asleep with her bright yellow headphones on, so Osha goes to the bathroom to get ready for bed. She puts on a pair of undies and a thin tee, trying to remain tempting but not too obvious. But when she hops into the top bunk, her eyes feel heavy, and soon she’s opening them to Qimir, who’s crawled into her bed while she was asleep. His hand comes up to her face, a thumb brushing over her lip before he kisses her.

“I was more tired than I thought,” she says quietly.

“Go back to sleep. I have to leave soon.”

Osha smiles. She can’t see him entirely in the darkness, and her mind is still somewhere between being asleep and awake. “And what are you going to do while I’m asleep?” She lets out a giggle and pulls herself closer to him, wrapping her legs around his.

“Nothing.” He rubs her earlobe between his fingers. “I just like being with you.” 

The words rumble in her chest and she looks up to him, finding his lips in the darkness so she can kiss him again. It feels serious and heavy, but Osha’s too tired to let her mind wander into dark and emotional territory. 

“Thank you for being with me,” she says, meaning it. 

###

Qimir places another kiss on her lips, then takes a deep breath. “Osha, I…” He snaps his mouth shut, swallowing down the admission. 

“Hm?” she asks. He knows her eyes are likely shut, and she’s clearly exhausted. It would be best to leave, to save this for another time. But something deep in his chest is pounding to get out.

“I love… being with you.” 

Coward, he thinks. 

“Me too,” Osha says. Her hand reaches up to his face where she lazily traces his features in the dark. When that hand rests on his cheek, he takes it and kisses it, wishing he were a better man, wishing he could give her more.

He can hear her breathing steadily now, a sign that she’s fallen asleep. Qimir sighs and crawls out of her bed, careful to not wake her. He turns to her once more and whispers, “Love you,” before finally leaving. 

Chapter Text

Osha jolts awake to her alarm. She groans, reaching for her phone and turning it off before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. She rubs her eyes, trying to recall how she got into bed, when everything hits her all at once. 

The words were whispered and she was nearly asleep, but what he said was unmistakable. 

“Love you.”

Is that why he had lingered for so long? He was simply watching her fall asleep, but he wanted to say more, and Osha was too tired to notice. 

“Fuck,” she whispers, at first in shock. Then, an anger boils up: he chose that moment to tell her that he loves her? “Fuck!” she says more loudly. And suddenly, she’s mad at him. It’s not fair, it’s not right. He didn’t give her a chance to respond. He told her in the most inopportune time, in the most selfish way, and what is Osha supposed to do now? Say it back? She doesn’t even know how she feels yet. They’ve only known each other for a week. 

A week. A week of teasing, flirting, fooling around, and some of the most honest conversations she’s ever had with anyone. She knows she can talk to Qimir about anything. She knows that she can trust him. But it would sound insane if she said it out loud, wouldn’t it?

Osha continues to think about it as she gets ready for her shift. She finds that her locs are mussed under her bonnet, and she takes some time to focus on retwisting and conditioning them. The annoyance she feels makes her fingers work faster. 

But by the time she gets upstairs, she’s wondering if that feeling she gets in her chest every time she sees Qimir is actually what love feels like. Romantic love, love for someone to spend life with, love and partnership. She’s never felt these things for anyone, but maybe that’s what she’s feeling now.

“Osha, thank god. Captain has requested you learn how to drive tender, so you’ll be training this morning.” Lowa immediately starts to walk away, but Osha has a million questions.

“Training on the tender? What? Why? Who’s training me?”

Someone behind her clears their throat and Osha turns around to find Qimir with a set of keys in hand, a sneaky grin on his face. Osha can’t believe what she’s seeing and looks back to Lowa, who gives her a wink. She breathes in sharp through her nose and turns back to Qimir, feeling angry at him all over again.

“Was Yord not available?” she asks curtly as she walks towards him.

Qimir snorts as he leads Osha down to the platform where the tender is tied down. “Captain told Lowa, and Lowa came to me first.” Osha doesn’t respond as Qimir helps her into the tender. “You’re lucky to have me—I’m an excellent teacher. I’m patient, kind… I give praise when you do a good job—”

“Just… tell me what to do, and I’ll do it.” Osha feels her face flush as she stands behind the steering wheel. She hadn’t worked out the words before she said them, and now the double meaning is hanging between them.

Qimir smiles wide. “Right. I nearly forgot. You are so good at doing what you’re told.” He reaches around her and inserts the key into the ignition, starting up the small boat. Osha feels a rush at the proximity and the words “Love you” ring in her ears. It’s not fair. 

She tries to keep herself focused on the task at hand. The tender is pretty simple to figure out, and she hangs on Qimir’s words as he describes the controls. He unties the tender from the platform, then points to the throttle handle.

“Go ahead, get us going,” he says, and Osha puts her hand on the throttle, pushing it forward ever so slightly. The small boat inches forward, and Osha pushes it down some more, feeling a thrill as they gain speed. She holds the wheel steady with her other hand, not knowing which way to go. 

“That’s it.” He puts his hand on hers, on the wheel, and guides them away from the yacht. “You want to head into the waves. You don’t want them hitting from the side.”

Osha does as he says, cutting through the waves easily.

“Good—job,” he says, and Osha can hear it in his voice that he desperately wants to call her a good girl. He almost slipped. She admits to herself that she wants that too, but she’s tense, still thinking about before. The audacity. She decides that’s what annoys her the most. 

“You see that dock in the distance?” He points northeast of their location, on the shores of Naples. 

“Yeah.”

“You’re gonna dock us there, then you’ll undock, and get us back to the beast.”

Osha gives him a look. “But you’ll help me, right?”

“Only if I need to.” He puts a hand on her lower back. “I trust you.” That hand sends a warmth through her that momentarily quells her anger.

Osha puts some more speed on and feels a smile tug on her lips. 

“You like going fast?” Qimir asks into her ear, and Osha’s skin prickles but she simply nods. When they get close to the dock, Osha pulls back on the throttle, slowing them down.

“You want to come in at an angle,” he says, completely hands off as he watches. “Nice, now put it in reverse just a little.”

Osha panics, not remembering how to put the boat in reverse. Qimir waits patiently as she searches for the switch. Finally, she spots it, flipping it. She reassesses the distance, then gently moves the boat in reverse, aligning it with the dock. The next part is easy, since she’s done it before. Osha steps off the boat with the lines and ties it down, letting out a huff when it’s finally secured.

Qimir gives her applause, then gestures for her to sit down next to him on the boat. “Come on, we have a while before we’re missed.” Osha sits next to him, feeling awkward and frustrated. The place they’ve docked is a quiet beach spot, and there are only a few other boats nearby and some locals dosing in the sand. Osha doesn’t know what to say. She wasn’t prepared for an outing with Qimir so soon and she still hasn’t properly processed her emotions. 

He gives her a look, sensing the tension, then pinches her nose. “What’s going on? What are you not saying?”

Osha shakes her head, then lets out an audible sigh. “Qimir, I… really like you. A lot.”

He smiles. “I like you too.” His hand falls onto her thigh and it takes everything in her not to swing her leg over him to straddle his lap. 

She clears her throat. “But we’ve only known each other for a week.”

“And?”

“And… Well, most people would say that’s moving too fast.”

“I’m not most people. Are you most people?” Osha isn’t sure how to respond. Qimir continues, “Charter season is, what, six weeks? I feel what I feel and…” He takes a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter if it’s one week or six.”

“But… love?” The word tastes sweet in her mouth, like it’s meant to be there. Then she sees Qimir’s face fall into a frown, and she suddenly wishes she hadn’t said anything at all. 

“I thought you were asleep.” He leans forward, elbows on his knees as he rubs his face in frustration.

“Oh… OH.” She was never meant to hear it. Qimir’s face is flush as he brushes his hair back with his hands. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I thought you were just… it was so easy for you to say.”

“It wasn’t. It was… Don’t worry about it.” He stands. “We should get back to the beast.”

“No, wait.” Osha pulls his arm and he slowly sits back down, looking at her with dark eyes. “You’re right. Feel what you feel. I have no right to question.” But there’s a guilt in Osha’s belly, knowing that she can’t yet say it back. How is she supposed to tell someone she loves them if she doesn’t know what it means?

Qimir nods, and she can see a pain behind his eyes, even though he tries to hide it. “Let’s continue the lesson.”

On their way back, he doesn’t make any more innuendos, doesn’t even find excuses to touch her. And by the time they tie up at the platform, Osha wants to take it all back. Her anger from before turns on herself, and she wants to tell him that she thinks she might be falling for him, if just to ease the tension between them. But he scurries off the tender as soon as possible, disappearing again into the belly of the beast.

~#~

Qimir dreams the same dream he’s dreamt a thousand times. He’s holding his hands above his head in surrender as armed guards circle him, yelling at him to not move. They’re speaking Filipino, his native tongue, and the sand underfoot feels strange until he looks down, seeing it’s not sand at all. 

“Kartel ng droga,” a man says, poking the tip of his rifle at a bag lying next to Qimir, the contents of which are pouring out onto the ground. 

“Hindi… hindi, hindi,” he protests, but he knows he’s been caught red-handed. 

There’s the sound of thunder in the distance as two memories meld together, and now he’s on The Dreadnought, trying desperately to keep it from sinking. The swells come up over his head, and he grabs the mast with both hands as the beast rocks violently. 

As always, his eyes flutter open before the worst happens, mind always protecting him from reliving it. But the scar on his back itches and his mouth is dry. He gets up to make some tea, which always helps. The cocoa especially has a healing effect, which is why it’s in his personal blend. The smell alone brings him back to good memories—chocolate Yan Yans passed around on the playground or the chocolate stains that covered his hands and mouth after eating a Choki Choki which always melted in the tropical heat. 

He wishes he had more nostalgic memories that weren’t just from his childhood, but his teens were rough, throwing him into a world that forced him to grow up too quickly. Then, everything good about his life circled around The Dreadnought; the ship that saved his life, and the ship that nearly destroyed it. 

Only because Sol was at the helm.

Qimir shakes his head of the thought and focuses on what’s happening now: Osha. He knows it’s unwise to think of any possible future with her, or even a short-lived relationship, especially given their last conversation. But if she continues to come to him… for the time being, he wants to be there for her, in whatever way he can. 

~#~

It’s the last night of the charter, and Osha’s on the late shift again. As she’s serving the guests their after-dinner cocktails at the table, she’s shocked to see them yawning—a good sign that they might turn in for the night and Osha can get her tasks done earlier than usual. But today, Osha remembered to eat her meals—all three of them, to be exact—and she’s not at all tired. It seems like a waste; all of this energy and nothing to do with it. She watches the guests retire to their rooms and finishes up cleaning the table. It’s when she’s outside, wiping it down, when she realizes the wind has picked up. A strong breeze carries with it a scent of rain.

Osha climbs to the Bridge, quietly and carefully, hoping to find one person in particular on watch. She first spots the back of his head, his hand rubbing at his neck as he sits in the Captain’s chair. 

“Fancy seeing you here,” she says, trying her best at a flirtatious greeting. It sounded way more stupid than she thought it would. Qimir turns in the chair and sucks in a breath. His eyes are puffy, as if he isn’t getting enough sleep, and he visibly tenses at the sight of her.

“Hey,” he says.

Osha walks closer to him, wanting so badly to touch him. “Hey, I’m glad you’re here.”

“Yeah?” He reaches out and puts his hand on her hip, pulling her closer.

“Yeah.” Osha’s at a loss for words as he slowly pulls her into a tight hug. His arms are completely wrapped around her and his head rests against her belly, and Osha’s never seen anyone so big look so small. Her hands run through his hair, hoping it’s communicating to him that she is here for him, that he can trust her, that she loves—

“Qimir,” she says.

He looks up at her with a pleading expression, and in this moment, she does. She loves this man. 

“I… I want you,” she says, taking his advice and just allowing herself to feel however she feels in the moment. 

Qimir gives her a curious expression. “Be specific. What do you want, Osha?”

“I want… I want…” It’s hard for her to say it. It doesn’t come out so easily for her, at least not right now. Not when there’s so much unsaid between them.

Qimir stands, looming over her in the darkness as he still holds her close. “Do you want me to fuck you, Osha?”

She sucks in a breath. “But where?” 

Qimir bites his lip, expression turning into something more playful and mischievous. “You wanna get boned in the bilge?” Osha lets out a laugh as Qimir’s face comes down to nuzzle her neck. “Laid in the lazarette? Freaky in the forepeak?” He’s mumbling into her neck all the places they can fuck and Osha can’t contain her giggles. “Shafted up the mast?”

That last one gives her pause. “The mast?” She leans back and raises her brows at him. Qimir returns the expression. Their eyes dance on each other, both thinking the same thing as a light rain starts to fall on the windows. The pitter patter of the sound throws Osha into an almost dreamlike-state, wanting to feel the rain on her skin. She pulls Qimir away from the Bridge and into the rain, heading for the mast.

“You’re insane,” he says before pulling her into a kiss. Osha kisses him deeply, biting his lip before she pulls away.

“You love it,” she says, a swell of confidence pouring over her as they move to the mast. Qimir’s jaw tenses, and she knows he’s not saying what he wants to say, but she knows. She backs herself against the mast, quickly becoming drenched in the rain. It’s warm, and it soaks into her very soul as she pulls Qimir into another kiss. Their tongues dance on each other and Qimir’s hands grab the bottom of her shirt, pulling it over her head swiftly. The sound of the rain is loud on the boat and the water around them, and Osha doesn’t care if this is a fireable offense. 

For once in her life, Osha’s taking a risk. She’s acting on her desires, and it’s exhilarating. She pulls off her bra while Qimir grips the side of her skort in his fingers, reminding her of the time they met and when she thought he would rip her clothes off right then and there. And, as if remembering the same moment, Qimir yanks her skort and panties down with one hand, exposing her just as she had imagined in her fantasy. 

“Hold on, Greenie,” he says as he places Osha’s hands on the mast above her head. He then grabs a line from nearby and expertly ties her wrists together so she’s tied to the mast. When he pulls it tight, Osha lets out a pitched moan. When he comes back around, Qimir’s head ducks down to Osha’s breasts where he sucks and nibbles on her nipples. With her arms tied overhead, Osha’s only able to buck and whimper at the feeling of his mouth on her naked body. The rain is loud now, and they’re both completely drenched. Qimir finally steps back and watches her as he removes his clothes. She imagines how she must look, and an image of a ship’s figurehead—a naked woman leading the ship through rough waters—comes to mind. 

Qimir’s naked body is now standing before her. Whereas she only had puzzle pieces before, she now has the full picture, and he’s beautiful. Carved from marble, but with some more color on his appendages and face. She realizes that he’s been out in the sun as of late, and his natural complexion is deeper than she initially considered. His length hangs between his legs, starting to harden. Osha swallows hard, realizing that will be inside her soon.

He comes closer, admiring her with his eyes and hands. She can see that he’s savoring the moment, trying to save the images in his brain. The rain slows, and he grabs a breast in each hand before kissing her. His fingers slowly pinch down on her nipples, and Osha whimpers. 

“That’s right, don’t hold anything back, Osha.”

He cuts off her next whimper with a kiss and she feels his hand move down her middle, down to her cunt, where he pokes two fingers at her entrance. She spreads her legs slightly, hoping she’ll be able to take him without much struggle. 

“Don’t worry, we have time,” he says, rubbing her clit gently with his fingers, which incites a moan from her lips. “There… such a good girl, getting wet for my cock.” She can feel the slick forming from his words alone, and she rolls her hips over his hand, wanting him more.

“Please, Qimir.”

“Please, what?”

She swallows, then answers, “Please, fuck me.” It comes out in a whimper, and Qimir’s eyes widen. She watches as he takes her thigh in one hand and his cock in another, and she can feel her cunt pulsing with anticipation. Qimir’s looking down as he guides himself to her entrance, inserting the tip. He then looks up at her, giving her a wicked smile before he puts his hand around her throat.

“Look at me, Osha. Look only at me, okay?” 

Osha nods, then feels him thrust into her. The pressure instantly brings her to a dark place, tears form in her eyes and in every thrust, she feels full and overwhelmed. She can’t hold onto him, can’t hold onto anything, and her body reacts like a ragdoll, completely controlled by his movements. Suddenly, she’s in a world where her body is only meant to be used by this man, for this purpose, and it feels good and right. His grip around her neck holds her eyes on him, and his dark eyes burn into her as he pumps his cock in her cunt, over and over again. 

“Fuck you’re so tight,” he growls, pushing himself further into her, further than Osha thought was possible. He looks down, watching himself as he fucks her deeper, and lets out a breathy moan. She watches him as he adjusts his position, pulling her other leg up, hoisting her into his arms. His hips press up into her, and the movement stimulates Osha’s clit just enough, causing her to whine sharply every time he thrusts into her. Her hands tighten around the thick line as she loses herself in the movement. She’s never been fucked like this before. Not outside, not in the rain, not tied up, not held like this. Her eyes stay fixated on Qimir, who looks at her every now and then, checking to make sure she’s doing as she was told. She watches his face change, showing more signs of pleasure, getting close to the edge.

“Osha… Fuck, I’m gonna come… inside you…” He grunts and breathes ragged as he says the words, then Osha feels herself getting close too. The sound of flesh on flesh gets louder as he slams himself into her with more force, sending shockwaves across Osha’s skin and making her cunt flutter. Her inner walls tighten around him, eliciting a sharp moan from his lips. He thrusts once more into her, and it’s enough to make Osha burst. She feels his cock twitch, then a pressure inside, and she knows then that he's come too. Her orgasm forces her body to buck on him, suspended and helpless as she relies on him to hold her. She keeps her eyes on him as she works through it, mouth open as she feels the waves subside. The way he watches her with those dark eyes feels criminal. 

Qimir slowly puts her down, breath steadying, matching her own as he pulls himself closer to her. Osha closes her eyes, only feeling him as he wraps himself around her body, hugging her tight. She knows he wants to say something—to praise her for being so good, or to tell her he loves her—but he doesn’t, and soon he’s peeling himself off of her, his length coming out of her easily, too easily, before he moves to untie her wrists. He throws on his pants, then helps her into her soaking wet clothes.

“I’ll get us some towels,” he says, before running back to the Bridge. The rain’s stopped now, and Osha sits down near the mast, taking in the view of the mountainous coastline, outlined by the moonlight. She can feel the cum pooling inside her soaked panties, her shoulders are sore from being tied up, and her back is stiff from who knows what, but she feels so, so good. 

When Qimir appears with some towels, he sits next to her, draping one over her shoulders and looking out at the view as well.

“I’ve never done anything like that before,” she says, smiling.

“Neither have I.”

“I’ve never… felt this way about anyone before.”

Qimir turns to look at her. “Neither have I.” He takes her face in his hand and gently kisses her on the lips.

“I’ve never loved anyone before,” she finally admits.

Qimir tilts his head at her, then responds more quietly, “Neither have I.” His eyes are burning again, searching her face.

“I think I do… love you.”

He kisses her again, before responding, naturally, as though he’s been saying it this whole time, “I love you, too.” 

~~~

“Fuck,” Osha curses as she pulls up her skort, realizing she left Pip in the Bridge the night prior. It’s ten in the morning, and she’s certain the Captain has already seen it. She rushes up the steps, avoiding guests and crew as she does so, hoping she can get to it before Lowa accuses her of losing it again. She spots it on the table, not where she left it, and sighs. 

“I’ve been wondering when you were coming to fetch it,” Sol says, looking at her with a serious expression. He’s standing with Yord. They were likely going over the schedule for the next charter.

“Sorry, I must’ve left it here last night.” Osha feels her face redden, unable to keep her mind from going to that moment and what followed. 

“And why would you be up here at night?” he asks. Yord has a similarly serious look on his face and she wants to slap it off of him.

She shrugs, feigning innocence. “Just to see who was on anchor watch.” He regards her more closely, and Osha feels uncomfortable. “Should I… not be up here at night?”

The Captain waves his hand and turns away from her. “It’s fine. You do your job well enough.”

Osha puzzles at that, avoiding Yord’s gaze as she starts to leave. But just as she’s reached the steps, Sol speaks again.

“However, the engine room is off limits from now on.”

Osha pales. He can’t know. How could he? She doesn’t want to confirm or deny ever having been in the engine room, so she simply responds, “Understood,” before slowly making her way down the stairs. 

Her luck had finally run out.

~~~

“Two thousand, each.” Sol says as he hands out the tips. Osha grabs her stack in her hands tightly. It’s more than she expected from this charter, and all she can think about is celebrating with Qimir and the crew. 

Another night out. This time, she thinks, people will know. She wants them to know. He’s kind and sweet and sexy and she wants to show him off as her own. Her lover? Her partner? The labels don’t matter. And when she sees him on the dock in his jeans and white linen shirt with the sleeve rolled up to his elbows, she can’t help herself. Osha runs and jumps on him and he reacts by easily scooping her up. Her legs wrap around him and he starts to walk along the dock, following the crew.

“Osha, you’re wearing a skirt,” Lowa complains.

“They’re dating? I didn’t know they were dating,” says Torbin.

“Well that’s one mystery solved,” says Mog. 

“What mystery?” Osha asks, crawling off of Qimir and pulling down her skirt as she walks with the group. 

“He was out and about far too often lately for it not to be about some girl.”

“Some girl?” Osha puts her hands on her hips, but then sees Yord out of the corner of her eye. To say he’s unhappy would be an understatement. No, he’s seething. 

“Fine, some woman.”

Osha slaps Mog playfully and Jecki runs over to her, taking her arm in hers. Osha gives Qimir a look but he simply shrugs and joins in step with Lowa. 

“You’ve been a naughty yachtie,” Jecki chimes.

Osha gives her a wicked look, confirming all her suspicions instantly.

“On the boat?”

Osha nods and Jecki squeals. “That’s just fucking brilliant.”

By the time they’ve gotten to the restaurant, the conversation has changed to much more mundane but comical things. The group chatters about the guests, what they plan to do with their cash after charter season is over, and, for some, more seriously, what they miss from home.

Osha sits next to Qimir, and he orders them a bottle of red wine. His hand sits firmly on her thigh under the table, making Osha squirm whenever he inches up a little too far or when his thumb brushes the inner flesh. 

“Can you stop?” she whispers to him when his fingertips brush over her panties.

Qimir squints at her, a smile curling on his lips. “No.”

Osha bites her lip. She knows the word she would need to use to make him stop, but this might be more fun. He pulls her chair closer to him and forces her knees further apart. It causes her skirt to rise around her hips, exposing her panties to anyone who’s looking from above. 

“I want you to keep your legs apart,” he whispers in her ear casually.

“The waiter could see,” she warns.

Qimir’s eyes find their waiter and catches the man’s attention. He looks a little older than Qimir, objectively attractive. A local—has that nice golden complexion. He comes around to see what they need, and Osha feels blood rushing to her face as he leans over her from behind. Qimir’s fingers creep up her thigh again. 

“Sir?” he asks. If he sees what’s happening, and Osha is sure that he can, he doesn’t say anything.

Qimir simply orders in a casual tone as his fingers brush against her barely covered cunt. The others at the table are too involved in their conversations to notice. When the waiter finally leaves, Osha lets out a breath.

“Did he see?” she asks.

“He sure did.” He then pats her thigh and whispers in her ear, “Good girl.”

As they’re eating dinner, the questions finally come round to her.

“What about you, Osha? Any family you miss?” Jecki asks from across the table.

“It’s just me and my sister, and she’s on charter in Australia actually.”

“Sister?” Qimir asks.

Osha turns to him. “Yeah. I didn’t tell you?”

“What happened to your parents?” he asks quietly, just loud enough for her to hear.

“What are your plans after charter season?” Chef Mog asks her.

Osha leaves Qimir’s question hanging and turns back to Mog. “I… I’m not sure. Probably try to find another charter.” She hadn’t really thought about it. “What happens to The Dreadnought after this, anyway? Where does it go?”

“We sail to the Caribbean,” Qimir answers. 

“And how long does that take?”

“About a month. Fastest we ever made it was twenty days, but that was with good weather.”

Osha nods, wondering if it would even be possible for her to stay on the boat, or to fly to The Caribbean for that charter season.

“Captain Sol would never allow you to stay,” Yord says abruptly. He’s tense, and the change in mood makes the other crew members go silent.

“I didn’t say—”

“But you’re thinking it. Forget it, Sol already banned you from the engine room, and for good reason.”

Qimir’s hand grips her thigh and Osha shoots him a look. “It just happened today. I was going to tell you.”

“What do you mean, ‘for good reason’?” Qimir says, his anger aimed at Yord.

“Come on, we all know that’s where Osha’s been disappearing off to.”

“Osha repaired the engine by herself, she has every right to be in there.”

Yord forces a laugh. “You’ve been keeping that engine running for years without any extra hands, and now you’re expecting me to believe her hands are working on it and not your dick?”

The glass in Qimir’s hand bursts into shards, spilling wine on the table and causing Osha to jump.

“Alright, it’s time to leave,” Lowa says, gesturing for the crew to get up before a fight breaks out. Osha inspects Qimir’s hand as Yord is being dragged out of the restaurant by Lowa and Mog.

“Fucking grease gremlin,” Yord yells before they get him out the door. 

“Qimir, you’re bleeding,” Osha says, trying to use a napkin to soak up the red blood. 

“I’m fine.”

“You’re cut. Come on, we need to get you a first aid kit.”

Qimir puts his hand in his pocket. “I’m fine.” Osha looks up at him and his jaw tenses. She doesn’t question him further, and they walk out of the restaurant after Qimir leaves a stack of cash on the table. 

~#~

On the way back to the beast, Qimir is still tense and angry. Sol had stepped out of line in banning Osha from the engine room. He knows he can’t take her from him, but then the question is… Why? 

“Why did that bother you so much?” Osha asks.

His bloody hand is still in his pocket. “Why didn't it bother you?”

Osha shrugs. “I mean… it's none of his business, but he wasn't entirely wrong.”

“Osha…,” he responds, not believing her playful tone.

“What? It doesn't matter. Though I was kind of turned on by you breaking that glass.”

“I should’ve thrown it at his fucking face.”

Osha puts her arm through his and squeezes tight. “So you have a temper sometimes.” 

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Qimir doesn’t prefer to call it a temper. He’s not petulant or quick to anger. His rage always bubbles under the surface, and knows exactly how to use it. Tea, yoga, and breathing exercises work too.

“Maybe we can find a different place to… you know… let off some steam.” There’s a glimmer in her eye, and Qimir wants to bend her over so badly right here, right now.

“There’s a first aid kit in the lazarette. Maybe after you bandage me up, I can teach you some knots.” He feels Osha shiver next to him. “Or we can take it easy tonight, up to you.”

She stops and looks up at him. “No, I… want to learn.”

“Then let’s get going,” he says playfully, picking up the pace. 

The lazarette is where all the water toys are kept: the jet skis, the sea bobs, and many, many things that blow up. Qimir doesn’t care for it. It smells like plastic. But he doesn’t wish to risk Osha’s job by taking her back to the engine room, so this seems like the next best place. After Osha applies Neosporin to his hand and a few bandages, he locates some loose lines in the corner. It’s the same type he used on her the night prior, and they do the job well.

“Let’s start with something simple,” He says sitting next to her on a cooler in the back of the small space. 

Osha looks surprised. “Oh, you’re actually teaching me knots.” 

Qimir smiles. “Hold out your wrists.”

Osha does as he says, a smile tugging on the corner of her mouth as she watches him wrap the rope around her wrists. Now she’s understanding the lesson. 

“This is a clove hitch,” he says as he wraps it around once, then pulls on one line, passing it through the other, then pulls it tight around her wrists. “How does that feel?”

“It’s… snug.” 

He undoes the knot, starting fresh. “This…” He wraps the line around her wrists several times before pulling one end back through, then using both arms to secure it. “This is a rolling hitch.”

“That’s tighter.”

He nods, undoing the knot again. “This next one is the most important knot you can know on a boat, so watch carefully.” Osha smiles as he twists the rope, pulls, wraps, looping up and then down and up again. He knows she’ll never learn it this way, but that’s not the point of the lesson. 

“This is a bowline,” he says, pulling it tight. “This knot won’t come loose under pressure.” He stands and tugs the line, pulling Osha to her feet. He then starts to undo the knot, which makes Osha look up at him, confused.

“Are you showing me a different knot?”

“No,” he says, pulling the rope away, then breathes one word: “Strip.”

He steps back and leans against a jetski as Osha slowly pulls off each item of clothing, putting them in a pile on the floor. She then stands naked and vulnerable in front of him as she offers her wrists to him. Her eyes are wide and doe-like, and Qimir jumps into action. He does the bowline again, tense as he’s thinking of all the ways he can fuck her here. 

Sol tried to keep her from him, but it didn’t work, and through all the positions he can think about, there’s something bothering him in the back of his mind that won’t go away.

Why does Sol want you?

He tightens the bowline around Osha’s wrists again and steps away from her, holding onto the other end of the line that she’s tied to. He pulls it slightly, causing her to move towards him.

“Good. Lean over this,” he says, patting the jetski. Osha does as told, laying over the cushioned seat. Qimir eyes a beam overhead. He takes the line and ties it there so her arms are suspended in front of her, then steps back to admire his handiwork. 

Why does Sol want you?

The thought nags at him still, and he approaches Osha from behind, trying to lose himself in her tight, little, helpless body. He brushes a hand over her back, then slaps her ass. She lets out a little noise, probably just to please him—because he knows it doesn’t hurt. He slaps her again, harder, and she sucks in a sharp breath.

Better.

“All mine,” he says slowly and quietly, before spanking her again, then again. Her ass starts to redden under his palm, and it arouses him further. His hand comes down on her again, again, again, again, until she lets out a whimper. He moves around the jetski to check on her, finding tears in her eyes.

“You remember your safeword?”

Osha swallows hard and nods, spreading her legs further apart. Her expression is hard to read, but she seems to be in a daze.

“Good girl,” he says, squatting down next to her and kissing her on the cheek. He then returns to her backside, rubbing at the redness as he places two fingers on her cunt. 

“You’re dripping. You like this.” He spanks her again with one hand as he pokes two fingers into her cunt, soaking them in her juices. He then puts those fingers in his mouth, tasting her sweetness. “All mine,” he repeats, starting to undo his jeans. He sees Osha grip the line, and her body tenses as she readies herself for being fucked. 

He puts a hand on her lower back. “Relax, Osha. Go limp for me, baby.”

Osha relaxes, her hands falling from the line. 

“That’s my girl.”

He can’t have you. You’re mine. He can’t take you from me.

He rubs his length in his hands a couple of times before lining himself up with her entrance.

“I’m going to fuck this little cunt now,” he says, slowly entering her, and it feels even better than the night before. He buries himself in her up to the hilt and lets out a gasp at how well he fits inside her. 

“Oh, fuck, Osha,” he says as he starts to move in and out. “Fuck, you look so good with my cock in your cunt.”

Osha whines, and it’s becoming his favorite sound in the world. 

My cunt. Mine.

“You belong down here with all the toys. My little plaything.” He slaps her ass as he fucks her, keeping it as red as ever, and Osha’s body starts to shake. He leans over her, fucking her as he turns her face to him. He makes eye contact. Her eyes are red and she’s clearly been crying. 

Why does she keep crying?

But she doesn’t use her safeword, and so Qimir stands back up, continuing to fuck her. He’s losing himself in it now, grabbing and smacking—using her body as he wishes. She whimpering more, and it makes him feel so good. He has her under his thumb, under his control. No one else can claim her. His hands move up to her nipples, she clears her throat.

“I don’t think I can take much more,” she whines. 

Bullshit.

“You’re stronger than you think,” he says, breathing ragged now as he continues to thrust hard into her. His fingers latch down on her nipples and Osha lets out a loud yell. It’s enough to get him to the edge, and he slams himself into her harder, forcing something else into her and out of her. It’s emotional, it’s intense, and he has no idea why it’s happening, but Osha’s crying harder now—sobs wracking her body. 

“Hold on, Osha, I’m gonna come inside your perfect little cunt, and then I’m going to make you feel so good, I promise.” She lets out a sob and it sends Qimir over the edge. He grinds his teeth in a growl as he empties himself inside her.

“All mine,” he whispers, before pulling himself out. Cum drips from her cunt onto the floor and he quickly moves around to undo the line on the ceiling. He pulls her into his arms, checking over her face, and she’s still in a daze, tears streaming down her pretty golden complexion. He lays her down gently on the cold floor, then wraps her legs over his shoulders as he presses his lips into her cunt, tasting his salt mixed with her sweet. He laps up the taste, wanting to please her.

###

Osha’s lost in a dark place, mind suspended somewhere warm and wet. She should be grieving—no, she should be happy. No, she should have stopped it from happening. 

“It’s not your fault.”

Why can’t sex just be sex? Why does it have to bring something up and out of her every time?

But as Qimir’s mouth latches onto her cunt, she breathes in deeply, feeling a comforting warmth pour over her body. Her hand reaches down to his head and her fingers weave into his dark hair and she focuses on her pleasure, emotions starting to feel less overwhelming. They’re still there, still threatening, but they’re quieter now, cleansed in the same warmth she’s currently floating in. 

As his tongue licks over her clit, Qimir’s hand snakes up her body to massage her breast, and Osha puts her hand over his, feeling the way he gently rolls her nipple between his fingers. She arches her back, feeling herself cresting, wanting to feel like this forever. 

When she comes, she presses Qimir’s face further down, and he buries himself in her as she bucks through the waves of her orgasm. When she’s done, she looks down to find him looking up at her curiously, his face covered in slick and cum. She lets out a laugh, a true belly-laugh, and some more tears stream down her face as Qimir wipes his with his sleeve. 

“Feeling better?” he asks, coming up to lay at her side.

Osha sighs out of the laugh. “I am.”

Qimir rubs the tears from her eyes gently. “Do you know why you cry?”

Osha nods.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She nods again. “Just… not tonight.”

Qimir places a kiss on her forehead. “You like it when I say nasty things while fucking you?”

Osha smiles. “Yeah.”

“You like it when I spank your ass?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” They stay like this for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes, and Osha sees how gentle and how kind Qimir can be. It’s a far stretch compared to the dominating figure he becomes during sex, but Osha likes seeing both sides. She feels lucky to be trusted with all the different parts of him. 

Chapter Text

“Drive the tender? By myself?” Osha responds, tensing as she holds onto a tray of empty glasses.

“You’ll have Kel with you,” Lowa explains. “He’ll help you set up the beach picnic, but Sol wants you to get as much practice as possible.”

Osha closes her mouth, not wanting to go against the Captain’s orders. She and Lowa are finally on good terms, but she and the Captain? Osha’s not sure why he seems to be so focused on her. 

“Okay, let me get these washed.”

Lowa takes the tray from her. “I got these. Go get the things ready for the picnic. Coolers, chairs, linens. Kel’s grabbing the tents and tables from the laz.”

The laz, where she and Qimir had sex the night prior. Where Osha watched Qimir as he cleaned up their mess with a towel and spray bottle.

Osha nods and starts preparing the items. Beach picnics are a pain in the ass, and Lowa especially despises them. The first charter wanted a beach picnic, and she complained the entire time under her breath—the wind, the sand, the time it takes to set up and take down, and it’s all just so the guests can eat one meal with a slightly different view. 

Osha focuses on the tasks at hand, and soon she’s getting the last of the necessary items into the tender. She freezes, looking at the controls, then realizes the keys are in the ignition, and she moves through the steps just as Qimir taught her. Kel seems surprised at how easily she undocks the smaller boat and peels away from the yacht.

“So he actually did teach you how to drive the tender?” he remarks.

Osha shoots him an angry look. “He’s a good teacher.”

“I’m sure.”

Osha lets it go. The proof is in her abilities and she doesn’t need to be in a bad mood. When she eases onto the shore, he bites his tongue and helps with the anchor. Which is good, because she never learned that part.

An hour later, the picnic is set, and Osha radios Lowa so the guests can arrive via the dinghy. They’re delighted to see such a nice spread, and Lowa pats Osha on the back for a job well done. After they finish their lunch, the guests want to go back to the boat to play with the toys, and Osha looks over the mess she’ll have to clean up.

“Captain wants me back on the boat,” Kel says, and Osha gives him another annoyed look.

“Seriously?” she gestures to everything she’ll have to take down and haul to the tender—by herself.

“Seriously. They want water toys. That’s a deckhand’s job.” He’s serious, but she can see the half of a cheeky grin as he turns away.

She watches as he climbs into the dinghy with the guests, then mutters under her breath, “Thanks for nothin’.”

Osha starts moving slowly as she gathers the garbage, breaks down the umbrellas, the chairs, and the tables. Then she catches a scent in the air. Smells like rain. She turns to find dark clouds on the horizon. She picks up her pace, trying to haul everything into the tender as fast as she can. But the clouds move quickly across the sky, and soon it’s dark overhead. Osha curses, trying to get the anchor out of the sand. When she finally hoists it, it bangs on her shins as she walks and grits her teeth hard against the pain before pushing the anchor up and onto the boat. 

She’s able to do it all by herself, and it’s starting to feel like some kind of test. But she’s passing the test—heading back to the yacht at a steady pace despite the rising swells. It was Sol who had ordered her to drive the tender to set up. It was Sol who had called Kel back to the yacht, leaving her alone. Osha shakes her head of the conspiracy, not wanting to believe the Captain of the yacht she’s working on would be capable of such villainy. Even if he were—why? What’s the endgame?

The tender suddenly shuts off. 

Osha freezes, looking down, hands hovering over the wheel. She turns the key in the ignition, but it only makes a weak clicking sound. The boat’s rocking side to side now and Osha looks around to find that the wind and waves will eventually push her into a sheer cliff and grouping of rocks if she doesn’t act quickly. She puts Pip to her lips and says the only thing she can think of. Her only lifeline.

“Qimir, Qimir, Osha. There’s something wrong with the tender.”

###

She sounds scared. She’s never scared. Qimir answers back, “Did it overheat?”

“I don’t know,” she says. Qimir climbs to the deck and looks around at the dark water. He finally spots her, far away, and curses. She crackles on the radio again. “I think I found the temperature gauge. It’s in the red.”

“Osha, you need to check the sand trap in the rear of the boat. It’s under a latch in the aft. Tell me when you’ve opened the hatch.” He’s moving to the platform now. If he can get to the dinghy, he’ll be able to get to her before she drifts into the rocks. It would be a rough ride in this weather.

“Okay, I opened it,” she answers, sounding relieved.

“There’s a tube-like structure that filters out sand from the ocean water that’s used to cool the engine, do you see it?” He knows it will take her some time to find it, but she’s smart and he knows she can do this. If he could just—

Qimir arrives at the platform to find Sol in the dinghy. He’s peeling away from the platform, alone, before Qimir can process what’s happening. 

“Shit,” she says to himself. 

Why does Sol want you?

He then speaks again into the radio. “Osha, have you found it?”

“I did. I took out the filter and it’s full of sand.”

Qimir lets out an exhale, relieved that it’s what he suspected. “Good, good. Wash that out and put it back together, then the engine should start.”

###

The waves toss the boat violently from side to side, causing Osha to drop the clean filter. It rolls down, under her, further into the dark. She reaches to it, but she can’t find it, can’t quite get to it, when she hears a voice call her name. She looks up, and Captain Sol is tying a line to the tender from the dinghy.

“I’m going to pull you to safety!” he shouts. 

Osha simply nods, then looks back down at her problem. The rocks are no longer a threat, but she’s determined to fix this. She is an engineer, afterall. She crawls under the hatch, reaching in the darkness until her fingers clasp around the filter. She then places it back into the tube, twisting all the parts back together. When she crawls back out, the wind whips her locs across her face and the rain starts to come down. She goes to the key and turns it. It clicks, roars, then hums and she lets out an excited yell.

But when she finds Sol’s face, he looks… upset?

“I fixed it!” she says, still feeling the thrill. She pulls the radio up to her mouth. “I fixed it,” she says into Pip. She could’ve saved herself after all. The realization makes her feel powerful and Pip starts to chatter with the crew congratulating her. They seem relieved.

She gets a “Well done,” from Lowa, and a “Brilliant,” from Jecki. Even Kel says “Nice work, Osha.” Then Qimir adds, “I knew you could.”

She helps Sol untie the lines between them so they can make their way back to the yacht, and when she’s free of him, Osha lays down on the throttle. She takes a joy ride around the yacht once—cutting through the waves with ease—before heading to the platform. Qimir greets her there with a towel, placing it over her head to shield her from the rain.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” he asks, a knowing grin tugging at his lips.

“The Captain was going to pull me from the rocks, but I would’ve been fine. I fixed it in time.”

“I know,” he says. “I have to go. I’ll see you later, okay?”

Osha sees his lip curl under his teeth and she knows he wants to kiss her, but it wouldn’t be appropriate with guests moving about. 

“Okay,” she says. He gives her a wink and pinches her nose as he usually does, and it’s enough to make Osha feel that swelling sensation of what she’s learning to call love. 

###

Qimir walks up to the Bridge, feeling solid and ready to confront Sol. He closes the door behind him, then clears his throat. Sol’s toweling his hair, but turns to face Qimir, looking surprised. 

“What do you want?” he asks nonchalantly.

“Funny, I was gonna ask you the same thing.”

Sol lets out a snort and sits in his chair. “I don’t think I catch your meaning.”

“Osha.”

“What about Osha?”

“Don’t play games, Sol. I just cleaned out that sand trap two days ago.”

The Captain raises his brows. “You’re accusing me of putting one of my crew members in danger?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” He meets the older man’s dark eyes, not backing down.

Sol looks away from him. “This is nonsense. All I want is to protect Osha.”

“Protect?”

“Yes. She’s young and naive and I want her to be prepared for all the dangers this job would have her face.”

Qimir shakes his head, not understanding. “Why? What are you—?” Then, it hits him. “You want Osha to stay… on The Dreadnought.”

“Perhaps.”

“But why? Why her?”

“Why did I choose for you to stay, Qimir?”

“She’s nothing like me.”

Sol shrugs. “Maybe not. But she’s just as broken. And broken people want to find somewhere to belong.” He leans over, speaking more quietly. “I would hope that after all these years, you’d see me as a father, Qimir. I think Osha will adapt far more quickly.” 

It sounds like a twisted fantasy—some fucked up found family, where Sol is the father and Qimir and Osha are his children. No, he won’t let him do this. He won’t let him trap her here.

Sol spins around in his chair, looking over the log. “I know you two are seeing each other. That will have to stop.”

“That’s not for you to decide.” Qimir’s tense. Sol controls too much, knows too much.

“You will do as I say. You know the consequences.”

Qimir swallows hard. “Osha will never accept it. You can’t control her.”

“But I can control you.” The words come out slow and thick and Qimir feels like he’s falling suddenly, back into himself when he was only twenty years old, when he met Sol. He owes his freedom—and his life—to this man.

“I will find a way out of this,” Qimir says, almost in a whisper.

“I have no doubt you will try,” Sol answers, uncaring, unbothered. 

And without another word, Qimir leaves the Bridge.

~#~

Osha’s doing laundry that evening when Qimir approaches her. “You can’t trust Sol,” he says plainly. 

Osha puts down a shirt and looks up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

Qimir glances around, but they’re mostly alone and their conversation is muffled here anyway. He continues, “He wants you to stay on board, after season. He wants you to be with The Dreadnought permanently.”

Osha’s eyes light up. “But that’s a good thing… right?” The look in his eyes says differently.

“He doesn't want us seeing each other. He made that very clear. I think he’s trying to… I don’t know, bond you to him by putting you in danger and… saving you.” 

“That’s ridiculous.”

“I know, I know it sounds unbelievable but… Osha, you do trust me, don’t you?”

Her eyes narrow on him. He’s jittery, and he’s holding something back still, but Osha does trust him, more than she probably should. Then she starts putting the pieces together. She recalls the jump off the bow, the boom swinging around to nearly hit her, and then the tender shutting off. In all of them, Sol was either responsible for the situation or was there to save and comfort her after. She shivers, remembering how he spoke to her in the Bridge that one night.

“It was not meant to go that way,” he had said.

“He’s doing this… intentionally,” Osha finally says.

Qimir tilts his head down. “But you’re smarter than him, Osha.”

Osha’s ears are suddenly ringing. She wanted to stay. She can’t stay, not after this. She should leave. She can’t leave. She needs the money—and Qimir. She can’t leave Qimir. Not when they’ve just started this…

“I need to sit down,” she says, allowing herself to drop to the floor.

Qimir sits next to her and rubs her arms. “I’m going to fix this, I promise.”

“How?”

There’s a long pause, then Qimir leans around her, kissing her nose. His breath on her is a comfort, but his words are not.

“I don’t know yet.”

~~~

Osha lays awake in her bed, unable to sleep, unable to stop thinking about her predicament. She had only just started this journey with Qimir, and she’s never felt this way before, not about herself, not about someone else. She refuses to be controlled, she’s smart enough to figure out a way to have what she wants, and what she wants is Qimir. And she desperately wants out of this room. But there’s a security camera in the hall between her room and the engine room.

Then, she remembers: there’s another way out.

Osha gets out of bed and goes into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. She gets into the shower and pushes up on the panel above. There’s a small ledge in the shower stall, and she uses it to step up into the hole in the ceiling. Pipes and wires line the walls, and Osha hoists herself up inside, starting to crawl towards the back of the boat. The tunnel dead ends at a hatch overhead, which she assumes will lead her to the aft deck, but that’s not where she wants to go. Down and to the left, she spots a different sort of exit—a metal grate. She pushes at it carefully, and it pops out of place. She puts it down next to her, then slides herself around so she can crawl out feet first. The smell hits her before she can see that she’s made it—the engine room. She’s in a far corner, behind all the pipes and metal boxes she’d come to recognize from the other side. A familiar face appears, and she sighs in relief. 

Then, she realizes he’s all skin and she covers her mouth. Qimir sleeps naked, she deduces. 

“Osha?” Qimir says, clearly surprised she found her way here on her own. He brushes his hair back, and Osha comes closer to him. 

“Did I wake you?” she asks.

“I couldn’t sleep.” He reaches for her and pulls her into a hug. His muscles are tight against her, and he feels warm, despite being completely naked. 

“Neither could I.” She reaches down to touch his length, and Qimir flinches. 

“Osha, we shouldn’t, not here. If Sol finds us—”

“What’s the worst he can do? You said it yourself—he wants me here. He’s not going to fire me. And the boat can’t run without you.” She watches his jaw tense as her hand finds its way back to his cock. 

But he pulls away. “We should talk.” He moves to the closet and rummages around for some clothes. 

But Osha doesn’t want to talk. 

She moves quickly, undressing herself. She then takes her panties and ties them around her wrists, using her teeth to pull them tight. She finds a place over the engine to hook herself—the end of a pipe that twists upward—and it’s the perfect height for her. She loops her arms around it, her arms hanging overhead as she arches her back. 

When Qimir finally turns around, fully clothed, his mouth falls open. She forces her face into a submissive frown and widens her eyes, hoping it’s enough to make him feral. But he doesn’t immediately go to her. He approaches slowly, eyes darkening and arms crossing over his chest.

“Do you know what you’re doing, Osha?”

She shakes her head. “Does it matter? I want you to use me.”

“Use you?”

“Yes,” she says impatiently. She wants to feel that way again—like she’s floating between pain and pleasure, between devastating grief and overwhelming bliss. Every time, something breaks inside her, and every time something is also remade—better, stronger, and more powerful. 

He regards her, inspecting her weak bonds. “This won’t hold,” he says, then moves around her. Osha lets out a breath, relieved that he’s going to do as she asked. He comes back with some rope. It’s thinner and softer than the lines on the deck. He ties it over her makeshift bond, weaving it expertly so it won’t come undone, then hooks her once again on the pipe so that her hands are in front of her, lifted just a little.

“You want to be used, then I’ll use you.” He clears his throat, looking her over. “If you say stop, I fuck you harder. If you whine, you get spanked. If you cry…” He searches her face. Osha sucks in a breath. “If you cry… I won’t stop.” He waits for her to say something, but she simply matches his gaze.

“Do you understand, Osha?” 

“I understand.”

Qimir nods, then moves around her, as though he’s inspecting her. His hands start moving over her—over her breasts where he pinches lightly at her nipples, over her back where he traces her spine, causing her to shiver, and then down, over her ass. He squats in front of her, thumb tracing over the folds of her cunt before rubbing in circles over her clit. He watches her without emotion, like it’s his job to look for defects, like she’s become a part of the engine itself. The sensation on her clit causes Osha to whine a little and in response, his hand comes around to pop her on the ass. She bites her lip.

His finger comes back down to her folds where he finds that she’s grown wet. “You do like being punished, don’t you?”

Osha feels herself going to that dark place at his words, and she allows herself to be devoured by it as she starts on the journey down to the belly of a beast of her own making. It’s made up of all the things she pushed down, all the things she never truly dealt with. It’s comfortable here, until Qimir’s teeth rake across her breast, biting down on her nipple, causing her to let out a pitched moan. 

His hand comes down on her ass again, and then warmth spreads all over. She loves it here. She loves this place in her mind, loves the engine room, loves Qimir. He’s sucking on her nipples, then biting them hard, and she tries not to make a sound, but that would be holding back, and she’s not allowed to hold anything back. So she doesn’t.

He spanks her again, she yells. He spanks her again, she yells. He spanks her once more, then puts his hand over her mouth, containing her noises. 

“I should gag you, maybe then you’ll stop whining.” He removed his hand slowly.

“Gag me, please,” she says, surprising them both. 

Qimir shakes his head and takes her jaw in his hand, gripping her so she has to look at him. He growls, “I want to hear you when you beg me to stop. When tears are streaming down your face and you plead for me to stop fucking you, I want to hear every word.”

That rage. She loves that rage. She doesn’t protest. Just simply waits for him to continue. When he does, he’s suddenly thrusting into her from behind. It knocks the breath out of her. He pushes himself all the way in, then takes a moment, probably admiring the view. Then he begins slow, sharp thrusts which jolt her against her bonds. It’s uncomfortable at first, and she tries to adjust herself, but he slaps her ass then forces her hips to stay where they are. He grunts, helping himself to her however he wishes to use her, and she loves it regardless. 

She feels him lean over her, his lips kissing her back before there’s a sharp pain. His teeth bite down hard on her shoulder blade, possibly breaking her skin, and she can’t help but whimper. She earns another slap to her ass, followed by another bite. The pain forces the tears up, not necessarily because it hurts—it’s not that bad—but the idea of being punished for what she’s done… This is what Osha has been chasing this whole time. 

She deserves punishment. 

The realization of it dawns on her, and suddenly she’s begging for him to stop, wanting more. It seems counterintuitive, but these are the rules of the game and her brain seems to light up at the contradiction. 

“Don’t—please. Please, Qimir, stop,” she says quietly.

“What was that? I can’t hear you, Osha.”

He continues to fuck her at a steady pace, so Osha tries again. “It hurts. Please—don’t. Please stop! Stop fucking me, please!” She’s pleading now, loudly, and he starts to fuck her faster, harder. She can feel him shudder against her.

“No,” he says, pushing himself into her, nearly breaking her in two. The tears flow more now, and Osha’s feeling as though she might pass out after this, but then Qimir’s hand comes around to find her cunt, and he starts to rub her there, helping her feel an immense amount of pleasure all of a sudden.

“This cunt is mine, Osha. Don’t you forget that.” Osha lets out another sound, this one wrapped in pleasure as her cunt takes him easier, the blood rushing there, allowing him to fuck her even harder. She can hear him getting close, can feel his body tense as he chases his orgasm.

“This cunt was made for me,” he says through his teeth as he crests, letting out a deep moan and emptying himself in her. The pressure, his words, and his fingers on her clit, forces her to come as well, and she feels a release of emotions, crying through the waves. Qimir pulls himself out of her, then moves around her, taking her face in his hands, but Osha is somewhere else entirely.

###

He instantly feels horrible. She’s crying, again, and he doesn’t know why it’s different this time, but it is. Her eyes are shut, and she can’t catch her breath.

“I knew this was a bad idea,” he says under his breath, trying to undo the bonds around her wrists. He eventually gets her wrists free, then scoops her up, taking her in his arms and laying her on his cot. 

“Osha, please, breathe.” It’s a silent cry, all teeth and sucking air, but she’s not breathing correctly. 

She’s having a panic attack.

He rummages around his shelves and finds an old bottle of eucalyptus oil that he uses to ward off mosquitos when they sail to South America. He opens the bottle and places it under her nose.

“Breathe, Osha. You have to breathe,” he begs. He pulls the blanket over her naked body and rubs her shoulders, until she finally takes a deep breath. “There, in through your nose, out through your mouth.” Her eyes flutter open, and he puts the bottle back on the shelf. He sits back, relieved as she starts to breathe normally. 

Osha rubs her eyes, then sits up, holding the blanket to her chest. “Can I sleep here tonight?”

Qimir moves to her, kissing her on the forehead. “Yeah. But first…” He sits back again, crossing his legs in front of her. “You have got to tell me what’s going on.”

###

Osha starts at the beginning and doesn’t stop until she gets to the moment she stopped taking her meds—when she started working on boats. Qimir hangs on her every word, only asking clarifying questions now and then. 

“And that’s pretty much everything.”

“So you cry because…”

She realizes she left that part out, sort of. It’s all there, but she’s just worked it out for herself why, so it’s easier for her to see now.

“I deserve to be punished, for what happened to my mother, and what could’ve happened to my sister. It’s my fault.”

“But it’s not—”

Osha places a finger over Qimir’s lips. “I know. But this—” She points to her temple, to the sparks that fly inside that she has no control over. “This likes to lie.”

Qimir nods, and she hopes she hasn’t scared him away. But he props another pillow up next to her, joining her under the covers and at her side, causing that feeling to swell in her chest again. He holds his arm out for her to lay into him, and she does, holding onto him tightly.

“Did you at least… enjoy it?” he asks. 

Osha thinks for a moment, knowing that being specific is best. “I liked saying stop. I liked when you said no. And I was grateful that you made me come at the same time you did.”

His hand traces over her face, outlining her features. “So you like being punished.”

Osha nods. “I want to feel it all. I need to.”

There’s a silence as Qimir regards her, fingers playing with her locs. 

“Did you enjoy it?” she asks, feeling small curled up in him like this. 

He snorts. “Enjoy it? It was the best sex I’ve had in my life.” He hugs her tight. “You’re incredible, Osha. I’m lucky to call you ‘mine.’”

She lets out a laugh. “This cunt was made for me,” she says, doing her best impression of him, almost matching his raspy, commanding tone. They laugh, and Osha glances up at him, seeing his face redden. 

“That came out of nowhere,” he says. Osha stares at him, watching his face go from smiling to serious as he meets her gaze. The blanket is pulled up just to his hip bones and he’s flushed and a little sticky with sweat. He’s forming a farmer’s tan, and his hair needs a trim. But he’s just as gorgeous now as he was the moment she met him. 

“Maybe I was made for you,” she finally says. His throat bobs, and Osha comes up to kiss his lips. 

“You’re the most dangerous woman I’ve ever met,” he says.

Osha smiles at the irony. Once, she had thought he was dangerous. She simply replies, “Good.”

Chapter Text

The next day brings with it a new charter and no time off. The crew flips the boat and Qimir works diligently on an engine problem that's been giving him problems for days. 

Osha’s doing laundry when she pulls out her black polo dress from the dryer—her nightly uniform for dinner service—and she's at first confused, then she holds it up against herself. It's tiny, like really tiny. 

“Uh, Jecki?” she asks loud enough for the blond to hear her from around the corner. Jecki rushes over, having heard the shock in Osha's voice and immediately clasps a hand over her mouth.

“Osha, what did you do?” she whispers. She then nearly jumps into the dryer and pulls out the other two, inspecting the tags for who's is who's. She sighs. “They're all like this.”

Lowa spears next to them suddenly, always able to sense when something is wrong. Osha holds her dress against her again, unable to say the words, but Lowa can clearly see the issue.

“Great. They've shrunken, what, two sizes?” 

“More like three,” Jecki says, eyes widening as she raises Lowa’s dress against the brunette's thin frame. Osha spots the excited grin beginning to paint across Jecki's face as Lowa waves the dress away.

“Well, we'll just have to deal with what we've got. I can't get more until after this next charter.”

When they greet the guests later on the aft deck in their whites, Osha realizes what they're going to be putting up with. Five men, all around fifty years of age. Lowa pulls her to the side later to explain that they're all divorced and have asked, discreetly, for escorts. Lowa's put in a call for some ladies who call themselves such, but they all know what the expectations are. 

But they're not picking up these women until tomorrow. 

Osha puts on her black polo dress for dinner service and gawks at herself in the mirror. She's practically bursting out of it—like a sausage in a casing. Her breasts press through the v-neck, the once cap sleeves now barely cover her shoulders, and she's pretty certain the end of it is hitting just above the curve of her ass. She struggles to pull it down, only to find it just springs back up. 

“Well at least the guests will be happy,” she says in a sigh. When she joins the other stews in the galley, they all check each other's dresses. Lowa's isn't nearly as bad as Osha's, and Jecki's just looks a little more snug on her. 

“Just… try not to bend over,” Lowa says, then adds, to Osha only, “By the time you get back up, you'll be pregnant with this lot.”

Osha snorts. “No kidding.”

When they serve the guests, Osha tries to ignore the oogling eyes as best she can, praying they're not twisting their heads in a way to look up the dress, which would be too easy to do when she's putting food down in front of them. As she's heading back to the galley, she spots a figure in a dark corner of the salon. Seeing he's been caught, he turns and walks out to the front of the boat. Osha smiles and follows. She has a moment before she needs to check on the guests again.

As she steps out to the sun deck, an arm grabs her and pulls her under the stairs. 

“You know they're all looking at you like you're a juicy steak, right?”

Osha looks up at Qimir, whining as she tugs on the dress. “It shrunk in the wash!”

His eyes light up as he looks her over. His fingers tug at the hem and brush across her ass. He tuts. “This is no good. I think I'm going to have to punish you.” He barely hides his excitement.

She suddenly feels hot, even with so little on. “Right now? I still have—”

“Your underwear, give them to me.”

Osha freezes, looking at his upturned palm, then at his face. 

“You're kidding.”

Qimir shakes his head. He's serious. “Just the bottoms, come on.”

Osha looks around, but there's no one on this side of the boat. She huffs, then hooks her fingers under her dress, pulling her panties off quickly. They're plain black, nothing fancy. She puts them in Qimir's hand and he smirks before tucking them into his front pocket. 

She starts to leave. “Now if you excuse me, I have to—”

Qimir cuts her off with a kiss, soft and yearning. His hand on her face is simply guiding, not forcing, and Osha loses herself for a moment. He pulls away, leaving her wanting more.

“Now when you serve the primary, I want you to bend over so I can see that tight little cunt of yours.”

He gently presses her face away with his fingers, indicating that she can leave now. Osha bites her lip, feeling herself getting wet just from his words. But that's exactly what he wants isn't it? For her slick to run down her thighs for all to see, but especially for him to admire. 

She walks back through the salon doors. “Jerk”

“Brat.”

Fuck, she thinks. The way he said it makes her want to play this game with him some more and she decides to put on her best performance. When she leans over to put the primary's dinner in front of him, she does so slowly and with embellishment. The eyes all around her are looking at her cleavage, but she knows Qimir is watching in the shadows behind her, taking in the view as she shifts her feet, wiggling her backside ever so slightly. 

She starts to sweat, blood rushing faster. She stands back up after describing the dish and she can feel a trickle run down her inner thigh. It feels good to be seen by him, even like this. Especially like this. Rubbing her thighs together as she walks back through the doors into the salon, she spots him again. His arms are crossed over his chest as he leans against a wall. He's smiling wide, shaking his head at her. Osha sticks her tongue out at him before disappearing into the galley. 

###

Qimir holds a laugh, then spins around, walking back down to the engine room. He hopes she continues to squirm, and the thought of her doing what he asks even when he's not looking gives him a thrill. 

He looks over his assortment of teas and spices in various glass jars. Next to them is a list of things Osha likes the taste of that she made up for him during one of her breaks. He told her to focus on snack foods and she picked peanut butter, blueberries, graham crackers, popcorn, and coffee. 

Nutty, milky, warm, and sweetness. He smiles. Same as how she tastes on his tongue.

Simple, comforting tea. It’s something that’s partially self-taught and something he researched through reading internet forums. Tea, yoga, breathing exercises. They’re good for his rage. Most often, he enjoys them at the same time, and it helps him maintain control. It also keeps him healthy in such a small space.

He pulls some spices, some dried fruit, and a particularly strong black tea, then starts to test out blends. 

~#~

After Osha's finished the late shift, she quietly crawls through the emergency shaft and into the engine room, hoping to find Osha awake and waiting for her. She swears she's going to make it a nightly ritual when she finds Qimir standing at the computer, only wearing a pair of jeans shorts which hang below his tight core. They look like they've been cut from a longer pair, and they're covered in rips. 

He turns to her as she enters, clasping his hands together as though he's about to present something exciting.

“I think I figured it out,” he says, approaching her and placing his hands on her shoulders. “Close your eyes.”

Osha pulls at her dress, still wearing the shrunken uniform, but closes her eyes. She's played plenty of games before to know what he's up to. She listens as Qimir shuffles away, then returns.

“Hold out your hands.”

She holds out her hands, wrists together, waiting for something to wrap around them, bounding them together. Then, something metallic and warm falls into her palms. 

“You can open them now.” 

Osha closes her hands around a thermos as her eyes open. “What is it?” she asks, unable to hide her disappointment.

Qimir smiles wide and Osha can't help but match his excitement at least halfway as he starts to explain. 

“It's your very own special blend. It's a strong black tea, for caffeine, some dried blueberries, cinnamon, ginger, um… cardamom and… well, I won't tell you all of it because if I do, there's a chance you won't try it.”

Osha holds it to her nose and it smells like blueberry muffins made with lots of butter and cinnamon. It's certainly not unpleasant, so she takes a sip, and the flavor rolls over her tongue nicely. It's not as rich as the smell, and the fruit flavor bounces on her taste buds before she swallows it. But the aftertaste is that of bitter, earthy greens. Or dirt. Yep, that's dirt. She tries hard not to make a face, then fails. 

Qimir's face falls. “Oh come on!”

“No, it's fine! It's not nearly as bad as yours.”

He runs a hand through his hair, thinking, then grabs the thermos from her. “Wait here, I'll be right back.” 

“But I can drink it. It smells really nice—”

Osha is cut off by the view of his back under the bright florescent light as he leaves the room. It illuminates how jagged and pronounced the scar on his back is, and it nearly causes her to stop breathing. The amount of pain he must've endured to wear a scar so wild—she thinks it likely stays with him. There's no way it couldn't.

Qimir shuts the door behind him, leaving Osha standing awkwardly by herself in the engine room. She shifts her weight, then walks over to his little room with the cot inside. It's been folded up and leans against the shelves. She unfolds it and puts it in its usual spot, then sits down. As usual, it's unmade, but clean and soft. Qimir’s scent is everywhere, and Osha curls up in the blanket, setting a pillow behind her. 

Qimir bursts back through the door, still carrying the thermos. He looks around, then spots her on the cot.

“Here, try it now.”

“What did you do to it?” she asks, taking it from him.

“Poisoned it,” he says nonchalantly. Osha gives him a side glance as he curls up next to her. He watches her closely as she takes a sip. 

The flavors are more rich and buttery, and after she swallows, there's only a nice flavor of sugar on her tongue. “Milk and sugar?”

“Do you like it now?”

Osha takes another sip, then a gulp. It tastes like buttery pastries. She lets out a positive hum. Qimir wraps an arm around her and squeezes her shoulder. “See? I told you. Osha's special blend. It's now completely ruined with the milk and sugar but I suppose we can't all have good taste.”

She looks at him and smiles. “I like it, a lot.”

“And it has as much caffeine as a cup of coffee.”

“Oh, thank god.” She takes another sip. They go silent as Qimir reaches for his own thermos of tea. Osha lets the comforting silence hang before saying what's on her mind.

“You never told me how you got your scar,” she says carefully, not knowing what territory she's stepping into.

Qimir absent-mindedly reaches behind his back and scratches. “You never asked… It was a, um, sailing incident. A chain broke, and I was in the path of its release.”

“An anchor chain?” Osha's seen those chains at the front of the boat and they're massive. No one’s allowed on that deck except a qualified deckhand when they release the anchors because they're so dangerous.

Qimir pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yeah it was… brutal. I thought I was dead.”

She looks at him with true sadness in her gut and she has a million more questions, but he sighs, mood changing from pained to flirtatious. He kisses her nose as he always does.

“I suppose you want your underwear back.” His voice is low and it makes her core vibrate with anticipation.

“Yes, please. I had to do all of service and clean up afterwards like this.”

“Like what?” he asks, cheeky.

She leans forward, emphasizing, “Without any underwear.”

“I wanna see.” He tugs at the blanket, trying to expose her.

“I think you saw enough already,” she says, pulling the blanket back over her. They’re smiling, being playful, but then Qimir’s expression rests into one that’s hungry. His eyes are hooded and his tongue moves over his top lip.

“Come ‘ere,” he growls, lunging towards her. Osha moves as far as she can on the small cot, using her covered legs to block him. He wrestles for the blanket, and he’s just too strong, quickly overcoming her and ripping it away. Osha’s laying under him, pulling the dress down as much as possible.

“You’re cute when you struggle.” 

Osha does love being his plaything. She reaches for the blanket again, and he sits up on his knees with it in his hand, looking down at her. She gets to her knees too and reaches for it, still pulling at her dress now and then, to keep it from rising up to her belly.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t touch your dress.” Like she’s ruining the game.

Osha rolls her eyes, taking her hands off the dress and reaching for the blanket again. Qimir lets her have it for a moment, like he’s teasing a dog with a toy. Then he pulls it, yanking her forward. She yelps when he catches her in his arms, then he spins her around, holding her close. The blanket is wrapped up between them, and Qimir’s head dips down into Osha’s neck, kissing her softly, causing her to relax into him. 

“Lay forward,” he says, his hand coming down to grab the fleshy part of her ass. 

Osha wants to do as he says, but then remembers the game. “No.”

Qimir freezes, as if he’s never actually played this way before. Osha notices, and it makes her feel warm inside. She might be the first to do this with him. And it takes him a moment, but he regains his control. 

“You’re going to lay down, and you’re going to stick that ass in the air.” He presses her gently, not enough to force her, and just enough that she can push back against him in a satisfying way. 

“You’re going to give me my panties back, and I’m not going to do as you say,” she bites back, breath hitching slightly as his hand comes up to grab her breast. He realizes quickly that she’s practically falling out of the dress, so he pulls the fabric down along with her bra. She lets out a gasp as her tits tumble out easily, and he starts to pinch them. 

“The more you say no, the more I want to fuck you like the dirty slut you are.”

That’s a new one. It makes Osha pulse with desire, from her lips to her cunt. 

“Well you can try,” she says, then attempts to pull away from him. He lets her go and watches her squirm to the other side of the cot. She doesn’t get far before he’s grabbing her and pulling her against him again.

“I’m gonna have to tie you down, aren’t I?”

“Why don’t you?”

“Nah, you would like it too much.” His lips brush against Osha’s ear, making her shiver. “Better to just hold you down.” He grabs her tighter, then pushes her down hard. Her body bounces on the cot and she feels the dress pull up to her belly as he lifts her ass up in the air. 

“You’ve been a bad girl, Osha. And bad girls get punished.”

Osha lets out a whimper at the words, then holds her breath, waiting for the inevitable. The mix of emotions floods back into her, and she welcomes them in reverence. But Qimir has paused. He leans over her, gentle as he says, “We feel through breathing, Osha. Don’t hold your breath.”

Osha lets out her breath in a shudder and he kisses her on the cheek before sitting back up, his hand sliding down her back as he does, all the way to her ass. She hears his pants unzip and he clears his throat.

“I want you to struggle,” he says quietly, as though he’s genuinely asking if it’s alright that they play this way. 

Osha bites her lip, not sure if pretending will conjure up more strong emotions as before. But then she feels his hand on her back, comforting her. If she wants to say no, she can.

Osha wriggles a little, then bucks her hips, letting out a whine. She hears Qimir suck in a sharp breath and then push down on her, forcing her to stay still. She pushes at him more, trying to get up, to prevent him from entering her. But he’s all muscle and soft skin and he easily forces her in place.

“That’s right, keep struggling. I’m still going to fuck you like you’re worthless. Nothing more than my little fucktoy.”

It’s jarring, harsh, and it makes Osha absolutely carnal. She wriggles and struggles some more, and he continues to hold her down as he teases entering her. She feels the tip of him, rubbing on her clit, then sliding in, just the tip. She whimpers into the mattress, quickly becoming exhausted. 

“I have to use this now,” he says, finally, pressing himself inside her cunt. He grunts, slamming her down on him.

“Fuck!” Osha yells, relieved that he’s finally fucking her. She breathes through it, focusing on how good it feels. He takes her hair in his hands, pulling her locs together tight and lifting her up onto her hands as he pumps himself into her in rough thrusts. Osha tilts her head back, unable to struggle any longer against his strength. Her hair is pulled tight in his hand, and she feels like she’s being pulled from one end to the other—pulled apart, broken open. It’s exhilarating. 

“Rub your clit,” Qimir orders as she hears his breath pick up. He’s close, and Osha rubs herself in fast circles. It doesn’t take her long to come and her lower body spasms on his cock as she does. He moves faster, grips her hair harder, and then he comes too, letting out a long and breathy moan as he does. Osha waits for a moment, not wanting to make a mess all over his sheets. She feels a rag come down to where they’re connected, held there as he pulls out of her. Osha whines, because that means she’ll need to go back to her room soon. 

She turns to face him and he raises his brows at her. “No tears?”

Osha wipes under her eyes, also surprised. “I guess not.”

Qimir smiles and fixes up a good cuddling spot before pulling her to him. 

“You're not worthless, by the way, just in case I need to clarify—”

Osha laughs a full belly laugh, cutting off his explanation. 

“What? I just wanted to be sure—”

She puts a finger on his lips, still laughing. He opens his mouth, taking the finger in between his teeth. She frowns playfully. “Ow.” He then sucks on it lightly, letting it fall from his mouth as he continues to look into her eyes with a hungry expression. Osha shivers. 

“I like playing with you,” he says. “I wish you could stay.”

“Me too.” Osha starts to fix her dress, then looks up to find Qimir handing her the black underwear.

“Thanks,” she says with a smile before putting them back on. 

~~~

“I am so drunk,” Jecki says, stumbling into the hot tub. Osha’s made it in first, dressed in a dark red bikini. For their night off, Qimir hadn’t come out with them, and she doesn’t expect him to show up now. She doesn’t know why, but she assumes it’s something to do with the engine. She would’ve stayed back with him, but it’s important they make it seem like they’re not seeing each other, at least to Sol. The crew is apparently still unaware of Sol’s strange threat.

Osha watches as they all pile into the hot tub—Mog, Lowa, Jecki, and Kel. Torbin and Yord went straight to the galley to find something to eat, and she doubts they’ll make it into their swim trunks given the state they were in when they left the bar. Then, out of the corner of her eye, she sees Qimir. She sits up out of the water, trying to find his eyes in the dark. He hesitates, but Osha waves for him to join them.

Qimir approaches the group and pulls his shirt off, casually entering the hot tub with them. He looks tired, but relieved once his body is soaking in the warm water. The group chats idly, several conversations overlapping each other as they drink more and joke around. Osha finishes her hard seltzer and frowns, not wanting to get out to fetch another. Jecki yawns. Once Mog announces he’s heading down, Qimir reaches around Osha and pulls her onto his lap. Lowa sees what’s happening, as always.

“Come on Jecki, we should go beg Mog for some late night pasta.”

Mog curses under his breath as they all start to leave. “Fine, but only something I can whip up in ten minutes… fifteen minutes… okay, at the most thirty. I have some lovely black truffles I’ve been dying to use.”

Osha smiles, watching them disappear around the corner. 

“You don’t want to go with them?” Qimir asks.

“Why would I? I’m hanging out with my boyfriend in a hot tub on a yacht.” Osha turns around, straddling him. 

“Boyfriend?” Qimir squints at her. 

“Yes.” She points at him accusingly. “You can’t say you’re not.” 

“Why not?” He lays his head back and closes his eyes, hand resting on her thighs.

Osha thinks for a minute, looking down at him. When she doesn’t answer right away, he opens one eye. 

“You know I’m teasing you,” he says in a sigh. His hands grip her hips and he starts to pull her back and forth over his lap under the water. Osha grips the side of the tub, stopping him from getting too excited.

“Where are you from, anyway?”

Qimir opens both eyes at that. “Like… originally?”

“Yeah. Where did you grow up?”

She watches his throat bob before he answers, “The Philippines.”

“And then sailing?”

Qimir sits up and walks them to the middle of the tub, keeping Osha’s legs wrapped around him. “I told you, I had some debts.”

“Yeah but why sailing—chartering, exactly? You could’ve gotten any job.”

Qimir places her back against the tub wall, then spreads her legs apart slowly. “I met Sol. He needed an extra set of hands, so I took the job.” He looks down at her body under the clear water, watching as his hand undoes the ties on either side of her bikini bottoms. 

“But why—”

“Osha,” he whispers sharply. “I’ve had a long, hard day. I don’t want to talk.” 

Osha bites her lip as he reaches around to undo the ties of her top as well. There’s a panic inside her, telling her to say her safe word, but this is Qimir—her Qimir, and she can’t bring herself to make him stop. And then he places his fingers on her cunt, and she definitely doesn’t want him to stop. He slides off his shorts, and now there’s nothing in their way. She swallows her curiosity and her annoyance and lets him take control. 

He pulls up each of her legs under the water and pushes his cock inside, his pretty lips opening up as he lets out a breathy moan. Osha steadies herself on the side of the hot tub by her hands and elbows, but he’s got her, thrusting into her slowly as he watches from above. 

When his hand comes back to rub her clit, she moans loudly, and his hand quickly clasps over her mouth. He shakes his head at her as if to say “Not here,” but he doesn’t stop. They quietly fuck under the water, and little waves splash up onto the deck, formed by Qimir’s hips as they move more quickly. When Osha comes, she does so quietly, mouth open in a silent scream. Qimir bites his lip soon after, hand grabbing at her naked breast. His cock twitches inside her and he bites his lip, making a quiet hum as he empties himself inside of her. 

Qimir sighs as he pulls out of her. “Thank you for that,” he says.

Osha puzzles at him. “Thank you?” 

###

Qimir puts his short back on. “Yeah, thanks…” He doesn’t immediately see the problem with thanking her for shifting gears, for the release. He’s been hunching under things all day, trying to find the source of an oil leak. Of course, it’s not her fault that he couldn’t directly or honestly answer all her questions about his past. He blames it on time. It’s just not time yet. 

Then he sees her face. She’s hurt. He walks things back in his head, then pinches the bridge of his nose. “That sounded bad, didn’t it?”

Sounded? The whole thing was bad. He just used her—actually used her. Not just playtime. Not pretend. He watches as she struggles to tie her bikini back on, mouth unable to form words to explain. 

“Let me help you…” he says, moving his fingers to the ties on her neck. Osha dodges him.

“I got it.” She’s visibly upset. Qimir nods.

“You’re right, I’ve been stressed and I shouldn’t have… It wasn’t fair. Osha, please.”

Osha stomps out of the hot tub, grabbing a towel on her way to the interior. 

He hesitates, then also gets out of the tub, going to the panel on the side and releasing the arm to let it drain. The deckhands would clean it tomorrow before the new guests step on board, and he doesn’t need them seeing any suspicious fluids floating around inside. Qimir sighs as it drains, rubbing his hands through his hair in frustration. Why in the hell would he thank her? Like she’s performing some kind of service for him. Like she’s really just there for him to get himself off. It makes his gut tighten. 

He would have to find a way to make it up to her.

~#~

That was three days ago. Two nights of torture, of wanting to go to Qimir through the shaft, but she couldn’t bring herself to be the first to break. Of course Osha had wanted to get off too. Of course she wanted him to fuck her in the hot tub. But how it happened, and then his words after… it just wasn’t fair. And it made her feel icky. She yanks the sheets off the bed in the master and nearly stumbles. The huge room always mocks her with its opulent four poster bed and gold encrusted bathtub that sits in front of a large, round window overlooking the ocean. It’s a pain in the ass to clean, takes twice as long as the other rooms, and requires her to spend more time on her knees, scraping the grout between the emerald tiles in the bathroom. 

It’s in this position that Qimir finds her.

“Let me help you,” he says quietly, falling to his knees and finding a brush in the bucket nearby. He starts to brush at the grout, and Osha isn’t sure what to say to him. Instead, she stands, then watches him silently as he does her job. 

“Enjoying the view?” he asks after a while. 

“Absolutely.” She walks away from him then, remembering she still needs to clean the bathtub and wipe down the windows. They work together for a while—Qimir staying focused on the bathroom, while Osha finishes the bedroom, then she just can’t take it anymore.

She stomps over to the bathroom, where Qimir is finishing cleaning the toilet. “Are you going to say anything?” she asks, not hiding the frustration in her voice.

He turns to her, breathing heavily from the work. His hair drapes over his face, and Osha notices his eyes are sunken, as though he hasn’t been sleeping well. 

“I should say I’m sorry.”

Osha crosses her arms and leans against the doorframe. “And?” 

He stands, regarding her. “And that I shouldn’t have treated you that way.”

Osha thinks, moving her tongue across her cheek. “And what way were you treating me?” She needs him to be specific, to explain the difference between how they play and how he truly sees her. 

Qimir comes closer and takes a deep breath. He flexes his hands, and Osha knows he wants to touch her. 

“I treated you as if… I owned you. Like you were just… a hole.” He winces. “Osha, I don’t want to blur lines here. It wasn’t playful. I needed to get off and I used you.”

Osha sees him stressing his way through the apology, and she reaches for him when she feels her heart break. “Hey…” she says, taking his hand in hers. Qimir pulls that hand to his lips and kisses her fingers softly.

“I never want you to feel like you’re being used outside of… playtime.” His eyes spark at the word, and Osha's face warms. “I know the difference.” He looks at her with hooded, knowing eyes. They darken as he looks down at her. 

Osha clears her throat. “Good.” She pulls her hand away, then moves to the sink, arranging things and wiping as she goes. 

Qimir watches her for a moment, and Osha sees him checking out her backside in the mirror. 

“You’re tempting me,” he says in a growl.

Osha lets out a breathy laugh. “I’m doing my job.”

Qimir moves closer, crotch pressing into her backside as his arms come around her, falling onto the counter. “Do you want to play with me instead?” he says quietly into her ear.

Osha wipes aimlessly at the counter, looking at Qimir in the mirror. He’s so close now, she can smell that he washed his hair this morning, a scent of sandalwood tickles her nose. She smiles and wiggles her butt on his crotch. 

“You better be quick,” she says. Qimir kisses her on the cheek, then traces kisses down her neck. Osha purrs into the sensation. It’s been too long. She spreads her legs slightly as he undoes his pants. Then she sees he’s quiet—too quiet. He’s sucking his lips between his teeth as he helps her out of her skort. All she wants is to get back to where they were

“Call me names,” she says softly. He looks up to meet her eyes in the mirror. 

“Are you sure?”

Osha nods. “Please.”

Qimir’s eyes darken, and she watches as his demeanor shifts into the predator. She relaxes against his touch as he traces a hand down her back.

“Worthless,” he says, raspy and metallic. Osha arches her back and bites her lip. A smirk pulls at his lips, seeing how she reacts positively. There, she thinks. Now they’re playing again. 

Qimir wraps an arm around her, placing his fingers on her clit and rubbing her in circles. His other holds his cock, rubbing it on her folds, waiting patiently as her slick forms. 

“My little slut,” he whispers, and Osha can see that it arouses him to call her his. In turn, the degradation arouses her—settles something in her gut. And there’s something weirdly wicked about it, but it feels like the real apology. Like there are lines being drawn in the sand. Clear limits, clear communication for what is and what is not okay. 

He enters her, and Osha finds his eyes in the mirror. Their mouths open in silent moans, and Qimir’s eyes soften slightly before saying, “Fuck, Osha. You’re so fucking sexy.” The sounds of sex fill the space, making Osha feel absolutely filthy. 

Qimir grabs at her shirt, trying to take it off as he thrusts into her from behind. Osha knows it’s risky to get naked when anyone could walk in at any moment for whatever reason—guest or crew—but she doesn’t care. 

“Shut the door,” she whispers before pulling off her shirt and bra. One extra precaution would be nice. Qimir reaches around and slams the door shut with one hand before turning back to see her nude form.

He curses quietly, then says in a growl, “My filthy little whore.” Osha lets out a whimper at that and clasps her hand on her breast. The other braces the counter as he picks up his pace, breathing ragged. His eyes drift over her, then watches her hand as she pinches her own nipple. 

“That’s it, that’s my girl. Play with yourself while I fuck this pretty little cunt.”

Osha pinches her other nipple, making sure he can see in the mirror how much she likes this. 

“This is all you’re good for, you know that? A hole for me to fuck, to empty myself in again and again and—”

“Oh fuck,” Osha says as her eyes flutter and her hand snakes down to her clit. 

“Just a cunt, and whatever other hole I can come inside,” he growls. Osha’s pleasure builds quickly with the escalation in insults. “Worthless. Fucking. Cunt.” It comes out with anger, like he’s punishing her. No, not her. “Worthless piece of shit,” he whispers. 

Osha comes over the edge, confusion washing over her along with pleasure. It cracks through her like fireworks—sparking across her body, hot and threatening. “Fuck,” she says, feeling his hands tighten on her hips. When she’s finally felt the last waves of it, Qimir pulls out and leans back against the door. Osha turns to him, realizing he hasn’t finished. She gets to her knees and starts to work on him. He winces. 

“Wait,” he says. Osha looks up at him, and she can see how hard it is for him to not let her continue. But he also can’t find the words to explain.

“You’re not a piece of shit,” she says, knowing all too well that he’s still angry with himself about letting the lines blur. Those words were not meant for her. 

He rubs his face. His eyes are red and weary when he looks down at her again, cupping her face in his hand. He doesn’t need to say it.

“Come on me,” Osha says, pinching her nipples again, trying to get his mood back to where it was. His eyes darken and his hand starts to pump his length. It doesn’t take long. He’s locked on her eyes, and they’re burning.

Qimir whispers “Mine,” before sending a stream of hot cum all over Osha’s face and tits. Luckily, she shut her eyes before it hit, and she keeps them closed, feeling absolutely filthy as the warm strands sink into her skin. His breathing slows. A wet rag touches her face, gently wiping her eyes. 

Osha opens her eyes to find Qimir squatting before her, cleaning her up. His expression is lighter, settled, relieved. There’s a red flush that’s bloomed across his nose and cheeks. He’s so attractive like this, she thinks. He wipes her face, then her breasts, holding her hip gently as he does. 

“There,” he says. “That was very… therapeutic.”

The corners of Osha’s mouth quirk up in a knowing smile. “Hey.” She brushes a hand through his hair, searching his face. “I love you.”

Qimir’s eyes widen, then soften. “I love you,” he answers, like it’s an agreement, a deal they make then and there. There’s no turning back on a love like this.

Chapter Text

“Osha, Osha, Lowa. You have a package waiting for you on the dock.”

Osha stops what she’s doing and puts Pip to her lips. “A package?”

“Come up to the aft deck.”

Osha walks from one end of the sailing yacht to the other. It’s been a couple of weeks since she found out how to sneak into the engine room without anyone knowing, and she and Qimir have been sleeping together most nights. It’s easy getting in, but she needs his helping getting back up into the emergency shaft. But it’s worth it. He’s left marks all over her, claiming her. Teeth marks she spotted on her back while she was changing in front of the mirror, and hickeys on her collarbones. She loves them, and is grateful he leaves them in places covered by her clothing. 

They have just two charters left until the end of the season, and although Qimir has told her that he’s figuring things out, she knows that he still doesn’t have a solid plan to keep them together. The time ticks away, and, perhaps selfishly, Osha focuses on being fucked, either on her breaks, or at night. And they talk, of course. They talk a lot—about life, dreams, hopes, and love. It’s a whirlwind romance, and Osha allow herself to be swept up in it.

The crew thinks she’s in her room every time. Jecki has sworn to not tell anyone when she doesn’t see Osha in her bed. When Osha is not working, she’s in her room—that’s the story and they’re sticking to it. 

Osha comes up to the aft deck and finds Lowa and Jecki standing there awkwardly, closer together than they’d normally be.

“Okay… where is it?” She looks around, finding no sort of package anywhere, when the two suddenly part, revealing Osha’s reflection.

It takes her a moment to deduce that her twin sister has flown all the way from Australia to surprise her. 

“Mae?!” They practically jump on each other, squeezing each other tight.

“Oshie, I missed you. You have to introduce me to everyone.” She leans in closer before adding, quietly, “Especially that guy you're seeing.”

Osha clears her throat. She had texted Mae that things had “worked out” with the guy she liked, but now so much had changed. “Everyone? Well, okay, you already met Lowa and Jecki.”

Lowa simply waves and Jecki curtsies.

“What was that?” Osha asks, smiling sheepishly as the blond snaps back into a normal stance. 

Jecki’s cheeks redden. “I always greet people like this.”

“No, you don't.”

And then, always reading people in a way Osha couldn't, Mae steps up to Jecki and bows. “Very nice to meet you Jecki. 

Jecki palms her cheek, hiding her blush, and Osha rolls her eyes. Her sister: the flirt. 

“Alright, let's go meet the deckhands.”

Mae latches herself to Osha's side as they walk to the front of the boat, around the outer edge. “Please tell me you're not dating one of the deckhands. That's so typical.”

Osha shushes her. “As far as you're concerned, I'm not dating anyone. I…” She tries to find the words and stops, turning to face Mae on the gunwale, where no one can overhear them. “I got in trouble.” Mae shoots her a look. “I'm not supposed to be seeing him, but…” She winces as Mae’s eyes go wide.

“A forbidden love affair?!” she whispers yells and Osha covers her mouth. She is about to say no, that's not what it is at all, then realizes that's exactly what it is. 

“Well… yeah. That's why you have to keep your mouth shut, okay?”

Mae nods and Osha removes her hand. When they reach the bow, Osha finds Yord, Kel, and Torbin wiping the deck, and she does her best to avoid Yord’s eyes as she's introducing everyone. She swears she hears him say “Great, another one” into the wind, but she lets it go, hoping to get this over quickly so she can take Mae downstairs. 

“Oh my God,” Chef Mog exclaims as they enter the galley. “I think I might have actually lost it. There are two of you.”

Osha laughs. “Chef, this is my sister, Mae.”

Chef Mog gives her a bow, which is precisely what she would expect from him. 

“Good to meet you, Mae.”

“Wow, everyone's so polite on this boat.”

Mog lets out a “Ha!,” and Osha gives him a look. “Sorry, everyone is not polite. This boat is a beast.”

“A what?” Mae turns to her sister for answers, but Osha grabs her arm and leads her away. She's never heard Mog refer to The Dreadnought as a beast. Only Qimir did that. 

“Well, you met everyone,” she says as they enter the crew mess. 

Mae crosses her arms. “Bullshit.”

“Fine, you can meet the Captain.”

Mae plants her feet firmly, studying her face. “Osha, are you dating an engineer?” 

Osha sucks in a breath, then slowly nods. Mae smiles wide, then her face contorts into disgust.

“Aren't engineers usually old?”

“When you see him, you'll understand—if you see him. Technically, I can't go into the engine room, so if he comes out tonight, then you'll meet him then.”

Mae seems discontent, then grabs her hand. “Then let's go see the Captain.”

Osha hesitates, but pulls Mae along upstairs. When they step up into the Bridge, Sol immediately turns around and smiles at them both, seeming just as harmless as the day she met him. But she knows better now. He hasn't tried anything else over the last couple of weeks. There was this thing with a guest that seemed suspicious—they wanted Osha to go snorkeling with them—but Lowa stepped in and insisted one of the deckhands join instead. 

“You must be Mae,” Sol says before Osha can properly introduce them. “I'm Captain Sol.”

“Captain,” Mae says politely while shaking his hand, no stranger to how these things go.

“I've gotten to know your sister quite well over the past few weeks. She's truly become more like a daughter to me.”

Mae shoots Osha a suspicious look, then forces a smile at Sol. “That's… nice.”

“After everything you two have been through, I know it's important to have people who really care, that will be there for you—that will protect you. So know that I will treat you exactly as I have Osha.”

“Thank you, Captain,” Mae responds, but Osha can see that she's shifting uncomfortably. 

“Yes, thank you, Captain, I'm going to go show Mae my room.”

Sol nods and waves at them as they leave, and Osha suddenly feels pale and clammy. He had let something slip—that he knew about what happened to their mom. Osha’s name had mostly been left out of the papers despite having to be an important part of the investigation. It wasn’t like you could Google “Osha Aniseya” and it would bring up the tragedy. Someone would have to dig a bit before finding the connection. Meaning Sol went looking for it.

“What the fuck was that about?” Mae asks as soon as the door closes behind them. Osha sits on Jecki's bunk and buries her head in her hands. 

“It's fucked up, I know. We're dealing with it.”

“We?”

Osha takes a deep breath and starts to tell Mae about Sol’s sabotaging, about Qimir finding out, and about Qimir trying to form a plan. 

“Why don't you just leave?”

“It's not that simple. Qimir… the boat won't run without him and…” She trails off because it's not easy to admit to her sister that she's in love and she wants to stay by his side. 

But Mae reads her immediately. Call it a twin thing, or just reading people well the way she does, but Mae sits down next to her and simply starts rubbing her back.

“Why couldn't you have just fucked a deckhand?” Mae snorts, and Osha can't help but smile.

~~~

“I'm not switching, Mae.”

“Oh come on, it'll be the perfect way to test him! Like when dogs run to their true owner.”

Osha feels her cheeks redden. “That is not the same thing.”

“Sure it is. It's just… inverted.” Mae holds out a dress of hers and some heels. Coincidentally, Mae's hair looks similar to Osha’s in dim light—they’re both wearing tight, twisted locs, but Mae has purple in her hair instead of red. If there was ever a time to switch, it's now.

“I… can't believe we're doing this.”

The two sisters walk out arm-in-arm, going to join the crew gathered on the dock for their night out. Qimir's leaning against a piling, chatting idly with the group. As the twins approach, the crew's attention turns to them.

“How are we supposed to tell who is who?” Jecki asks, seriously.

Qimir walks up to them and Osha's heart is pounding in her chest but she does her best to keep her expression neutral. He plays at thinking for a moment, eyes staying fixed on her, and she knows he's going to choose correctly when his hand reaches out to hers.

“This one’s mine,” he says, pulling her away from Mae. The words are funny to some and shocking to others, but Osha is pretty sure her heartbeat just moved lower, down to her cunt. 

Mae's not impressed, and she reconnects with her sister, forcing Osha to be sandwiched between them as they walk to the club. 

“So, Qimir, how old are you, really?” she asks.

“Thirty five,” he answers.

“You do know that Osha is twenty four, right?” 

“Let me guess, same age as you?” 

Osha smiles. They hadn't discussed age, but it was understood when they started flirting. Some things didn't need to be said.

“That's… over a decade age gap! That's a problematic age gap.”

“Age gap?” Qimir asks, a true stranger to social media. 

“It's not a big deal,” Osha responds. “We’re… compatible…” Qimir squeezes her arm in agreement. 

“Mae, do you like dancing?” Jecki asks, interrupting them. Mae jolts and instantly moves from them, catching up with Jecki. 

Osha snorts. “I guess she’s fine with it after all.”

“You were testing me, weren’t you?” Qimir finally asks.

“It was Mae’s idea, but I knew you’d figure it out instantly.” Osha slows her pace, letting the others get ahead before she speaks more seriously. “Sol knew about the accident, and my mother.”

Qimir matches her pace, seeming unsurprised. “He’s always got something up his sleeve.”

“I’m worried, Qimir.”

His jaw tenses. “I’m working on it.”

###

Qimir has nothing. He’s thought of every possible scenario, and it always ends with him behind bars. As they get closer to the club, the sound of the music thumping signals fun ahead and he decides to forget about it. He’s going to enjoy whatever time he has with Osha. At the end of charter season, she’ll leave, and things will go back to the way they once were.

So tonight, Qimir will be with her, hold her, kiss her, savor every moment with her. He joins the crew in taking shots, then orders two more just for himself. Osha doesn’t see, but he can tell she likes the way he’s nuzzling her nape and the way he’s squeezing her waist as she dances, so when he goes to refill her drink, he takes two more shots, wanting to get lost in her.

The club is dark, and Qimir can’t see anyone clearly as the flashing lights blur his vision. The heat is thick and wet, and the alcohol makes every touch feel more erotic. Every muscle in Osha’s hand on his neck pulses with a want, and soon he’s letting his hands roam over her body, sliding easily over her soft, sweaty skin. Her breath hitches on his ear as he lifts up her dress, his fingers quickly finding her sensitive spot. 

He’s not thinking straight as he sucks on her neck, nibbling up to her ear where he growls, “I want to fuck that tight little cunt.” Yep, definitely drunk. His fingers still rub her clit in fast circles and Osha’s holding onto him tight, little whines starting to escape from her mouth—his favorite sound in the world. “Come on,” he adds, pulling her dress back down roughly then dragging her through the crowd by her wrist. They snake between sweaty bodies before finally reaching the toilets. They’re non-gendered, with dimly lit stalls lined against the walls. The music is still loud in here, and Qimir thinks it’s the perfect spot.

###

Qimir shoves Osha inside a stall and locks it behind him. The click of the lock makes her skin prickle, and she wants to kiss him, but Qimir’s rushing through this. He pulls his cock out of his pants and lifts her dress back up. 

“Put your leg up,” he says, and Osha puts her foot on the toilet. Her heels slide on the lip of the seat, but she finds a way to hook the heel into the side, steadying herself. Then she feels Qimir pulling at her underwear—no, ripping them. He tears them with both hands, not wasting any time as he then pushes his tip into her entrance.

Osha bites down on her lip as he starts to fuck her at a rough pace. His hands pull her hips down on him hard and her whole body shakes as he slams into her. Her hands press against the walls of the stall, and she simply allows him to use her for his own pleasure. She quickly realizes that he’s drunk. At some point she thinks he’s almost done when she feels something poking at her asshole. Her head turns to look, finding Qimir’s eyes dark and focused on his hand as his thumb presses into her. Osha isn’t sure if the noise that comes out of her mouth is one of pain or pleasure, but the feeling of being so full of him makes her start to fall into a daze. 

“Oh, fuck,” he whispers, and Osha’s sure his thumb is fully in her ass now. And then, his other hand reaches around to her face, and he hooks three fingers in her mouth and Osha instinctively sucks on them. She realizes that he’s trying to fill all her holes, and it makes her feel absolutely carnal. His breath pitches again, and he finally lets out a long, breathy moan as he comes. When he pulls out of her, she feels the cum dripping down her leg.

He pops his thumb out of her ass and the sensation is absolutely filthy, but soon he’s pulling her closer, rubbing her clit from behind, and Osha can’t think straight. He grabs her breast with his other hand, and breathes hard on her ear. “You like being filled up? My little fucktoy.” He doesn’t allow her to answer as he covers her mouth. And the orgasm comes quickly, suddenly. She bucks against him and moans into his hand, feeling obscene. Her underwear is useless, barely hanging on to her hips, and she desperately needs to wash between her thighs, but Qimir’s chest heaving behind her starts to steady as he comes down from whatever high he was on, and soon he’s hugging her close and kissing her neck. 

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I need some fresh air.” He disappears from the stall, leaving Osha in a filthy daze. 

###

Qimir is not okay, and whatever he just did to Osha in that stall definitely didn’t help. His brain swims through a drunken fog, and he ends up stumbling outside, into an alleyway behind the club.

“What are you doing out here?” It’s Mae, and she’s lighting up a cigarette as Qimir approaches. He holds out his hand, and Mae pops another one out of the carton.

“Does Osha know you smoke?” he says, taking it from her.

“No, and you’re not gonna tell her.” Mae pockets the carton in her leather jacket, then lights the one in Qimir’s mouth. They both stand against the cold wall, sucking on the death sticks. 

“Can I tell you something?” he asks her, knowing he shouldn’t.

Mae turns to face him, curious, so he continues, “I don’t want Osha on the beast—The Dreadnought. It’s not where she belongs.”

Mae takes an inhale, regarding him. “What about you? Is it where you belong?”

“I have nowhere else to go.” His eyes lock onto hers and he can see the same pain in her that’s in Osha, just without the guilt. 

“You would let her go, just to keep her safe?”

Qimir takes a long inhale, nodding as he does.

Mae lets out a long whistle. “Then you must really love her.” There’s a long silence between them, then Mae finally says, “I can get her onto another charter, in The Caribbean. But she has to leave with me—tomorrow.”

“She won’t leave without me.” He thinks for a moment, an idea slowly forming.
“Mae… I’m going to need you to do something.”

~#~

Osha packs her bag early the next morning, gathering what little she has and the money she’s made. She slings it over her shoulder, following Mae up to the aft deck. She smiles when she finds Qimir there, just as Mae had said. They’re going to leave now, before the sun’s full light pours over the mountains, and before the Captain tries to confront them. It all seems too easy, and perhaps that’s because it is. 

Because just as they’re walking to the platform, someone pulls the strap of Osha’s bag, holding her back. “Is this how I find out you’re quitting your job?” Sol asks, his voice serious and grating.

“You have to let her go, Sol,” Qimir says. 

“Osha, please, I don’t want you to go,” he pleads. “I want you to behave.”

“Behave?” Osha swings an arm around, slamming it into Sol’s wrist. He grits his teeth and lets go. 

“You experienced such tragedy, such loss that you yourself were responsible for—”

“Stop.”

“Sol, don’t,” Qimir starts, but Osha’s stepping up to Sol, rage bubbling, ferocity sparking in every fiber of her body.

Sol continues, “The tech you made to look for anomalies in the hull should’ve found the bomb, but it didn’t.” Osha clenches her jaw. She’s lived with this reality ever since it happened. She know why it failed. And she doesn’t need Sol, of all people, using it against her.  She doesn’t have to deal with this anymore.

“You will never own me,” she says through gritted teeth. She turns, continuing down the gangway. It’s not until both her feet are firmly on the dock when she realizes that Qimir isn’t following. She looks to him as he stands on the deck. He didn’t pack his things. She turns to Mae, who looks down at her feet. 

She turns back to Qimir. “Why aren’t you coming?” There’s something awful about the situation, about realizing that he’s not joining them. But she knows there’s something even worse that’s hanging between them. And even though she remembered to eat a protein bar this morning, her belly feels empty.

“Oh, he didn’t tell you?” Sol says. There’s a smirk forming on his face and Osha’s frozen, waiting, not understanding. “Oh Osha, Qimir can’t go with you. He’s a wanted fugitive.”

Osha stops breathing. She watches as Qimir rubs at his face and sits down, as though he no longer had the energy to hold himself up. As though he’s finally relieved of the burden of carrying around such a massive lie. 

Sol continues, “I found him, fifteen years ago, drifting at sea, nothing but the clothes on his back and a warrant out for his arrest.”

“But I… I searched his name, and there was nothing that came up.”

“He uses his mother’s maiden name. Next time you look, try Bacolod, I’m sure that will reveal all.”

Osha doesn’t know what to say. Should she get back on the boat? Should she question Sol? But her feet won’t move. And Qimir won’t say anything. 

“I’m sorry to see you go, Osha, but Qimir can’t risk going with you. I’d call the police if he did. But it’s best you forget him. I’m sure he told you many things that were untrue.”

Osha’s staring daggers at Qimir, not believing everything was a lie, but still feeling as though her world has imploded before her. His face is still buried in his hands. She just wants him to tell her what was real.

“Qimir, undo these lines, we have to get to Sorrento for our next charter.” Sol leaves the deck, going up the stairs to the Bridge, and Osha just watches as Qimir undoes the lines, throwing them onto the dock. She starts to follow him along the dock as he moves up to the bow. And she’s trying to catch his eyes, trying to get some answers from him. She wants to hear it from him. But he won’t look at her.

“Qimir… please. I can’t… not like this.” Everything comes back to her in pieces: their conversations, their flirting, the sex, the confessions of love. Lowa’s sad expression when she said yes, of course Qimir told her everything. Everything he said, everything that happened, comes back to one singular, terrible fact: he lied. 

“Why did you lie?” She feels the tears welling in her eyes. He undoes another line, still not looking at her. There was never going to be a future with him. There never could be. “Please, Qimir. Look at me! You—you can’t do this!”

Qimir pushes his hair back, and finally meets her eyes. A sad and knowing smile appears on his face. 

“Scuttlebutt.” 

He says it with every ounce of irony, with every emotional string that’s tied to its meaning, and Osha lets out a sob, a laugh, tears streaming down her face as The Dreadnought pulls away from the dock. His stupid, silly safeword—telling her to stop, that it’s too much, that he can’t take it anymore. The one word he said he’d never use.

“Please,” she says in a sob. She covers her mouth, realizing that she can’t stop him. He ended the game with one word, and she has to let him go. 

“You really do look pretty when you cry,” he yells from afar. His throat bobs, then he turns away.

Another sobs wretches its way out of Osha's chest. She sucks in a breath and cries hot tears as Mae appears at her side, pulling her into a tight hug.

___

Local police botch arrest of wanted fugitive.

Updated 8:23 AM January 13, 2010 | Qimir Bacolod, 20-year old of Manila, was approached by officers late Sunday evening after he was seen carrying a suspicious package. When questioned by officers, Bacolod attempted to flee, and the contents of the package were revealed to include half a kilo of cocaine. 

After Bacolod was held at gunpoint and read his rights, he attempted to flee a second time and struggled with an officer. The skirmish ended with Bacolod obtaining an unsecured firearm. Unwilling to put lives at further risk, police allowed Bacolod to leave the scene. No shots were fired.

Authorities confirmed that Bacolod, previously wanted on drug charges as well as assault with a deadly weapon, is still at-large and is considered to be armed and dangerous. Should the public have any information pertaining to Bacolod, they are encouraged to contact their local authorities. 

___

“He’s on this wanted list, too, look,” Mae says, causing Osha to glance at her sister’s laptop. She’s met with a picture of Qimir, possibly from a driver’s license. He’s small, skinny and tan. His jaw isn’t as pronounced and he could barely grow any facial hair back then. And his eyes—they’re bright, seemingly innocent, worlds away from who he is now. 

“He was just a kid,” Osha says, leaning back into the couch of the crew mess. It’s been weeks since she’s seen him, and Osha and Mae are comfortable on their new charter boat of the coast of Saint Martin. Osha nearly lost herself in the grief of having to separate from Qimir, but Mae got them to a new charter quickly, and Osha could focus again on work. She refused to talk to Mae about her role in the whole thing, but she couldn’t hold it against her sister for long. It wouldn’t be fair. She knew it wouldn't have taken much convincing after Mae saw what Sol was like. However, it did take some time to type Qimir’s real name into the search bar. And so here they are, finally seeing Qimir’s true past. It makes Osha feel hollow inside; like there’s a space inside her that was meant for him, can only be filled by him. 

“There’s got to be a way to find The Dreadnought. He said they would come to The Caribbean after the last charter.” Osha does the math in her head. “They should be here by now, or at least close.”

“Osha, you’re talking about the entire Caribbean. Are you sure he didn’t specify which island?”

Osha shakes her head, but types in the search bar “The Dreadnought.” She scrolls through nonsense, then tries to be more specific. She types “The Dreadnought charter sailing yacht,” and gasps when she sees the first result. 

“It can’t be that easy,” Mae says as she watches.

“It’s not. We have to call to schedule a charter.” She looks at Mae, unsure what to do.

“Well, go ahead, call! We only have a few more minutes left on our break.”

“Okay, okay.” Osha types the number in her phone and waits for someone to answer.

“Dream Yacht Charter, this is Abigail speaking.”

“Yes, Abigail, I am… inquiring… about a charter on a specific sailing yacht.”

“And what is the name of the yacht?”

“The Dreadnought.” Osha hears typing. 

“I’m sorry, The Dreadnought is booked for the season.”

“Oh, okay, well… Can you tell me where it is? I’m a, um, boat enthusiast and I would love to see it.”

“I can’t tell you where it is on any given day, but I can tell you where it berths”

“Where it… births?” 

Mae rips the phone out of her hands. “Yes, sorry, could you tell me where it berths?”

Osha can only hear a garbled noise as Mae types the name of the marina into the search bar. 

“Thank you, Abigail. Have a lovely day. Mhmm, bu-bye.” Mae hands Osha her phone, then turns the laptop so Osha can see the map. “You’re never gonna believe this.”

Osha looks at the map showing driving instructions—one side of Saint Martin to the other. A twenty minute drive.

“I guess the universe really wants the two of you to be together.” Mae laughs. “Almost like you were—”

“Made for each other,” Osha says quietly. “Mae… Can you cover for me?”

“You’re not going right this minute, we have work to do.”

She’s right of course, and Osha shakes off the prickling sensation. She doesn’t believe in fate, but this has to be something like it. 

~~~

That night, Mae covers for Osha as she takes a cab to the other side of the island. It’s only a two-person charter, and she knows she won’t be missed. Her heart starts to beat faster and the cab pulls up to the marina, and even faster once she spots the familiar beast, tied at the end of the long dock. The Dreadnought: the last place she should be. Qimir’s going to hate this. In the back of her sick and twisted mind, she hopes he’ll punish her. Whatever the reunion looks like, she just wants to see him, wants to show him that she’s not done fighting for him. Her hair is different now: box braids that she currently has tied back into a bun. She’s wearing what is akin to battle armor: cutoff jean shorts and a see-through tank over a red bra. A pair of lacy red cheekies ride up her ass, but it will be worth it if she can just get inside and get them in his face. 

She approaches the boat carefully, quietly. There’s no movement outside or in, and she wonders if everyone’s on shore for a night out. She stakes out for a while, making sure she’s certain, then scurries onboard, making sure no one sees her. She finds the emergency hatch quickly and disappears into it in one fluid movement. Her heart’s beating in her ears now, blood pumping faster the closer she gets to the engine room, and just the scent of it fills her with joy. She falls through just as has many times before, landing feet first in the engine room—Qimir’s room.

There’s no one here. She looks around slowly, peaking over to the closet door which is wide open. The cot is made up: blanket tucked close around the edges and the pillows stacked neatly. She’s never seen it made up before. 

There’s a noise, someone moving outside the engine room’s door, and Osha hides behind the pipes, worried it could be someone other than Qimir. The door swings open, and she perks up when she hears Qimir speaking to someone.

“That’s not how you play the game,” he says, and he’s flirtatious. Osha peeks through the pipes and spots a small brunette, smiling wide at him. She has attractive freckles and a dark brown lip, and Osha loves the deep green color of her dress, but then this stranger flirts back, and her heart sinks into her stomach.

“You want me to do as you say, that’s the game?” she asks, smiling up at him and Osha swears she’s batting her eyelashes like that purposefully. Osha sees that Qimir’s smiling too, a real smile. He takes her chin in his hand and kisses her and Osha covers her mouth with her hand, not believing what she’s seeing.

“Are you willing to play with me, Jenna?”

Osha turns away, not wanting to see more. She can’t make herself known, worried that Jenna is crew—she can’t trust crew, not with Sol as the Captain. She looks up at the place she came in at. She’s never been able to get through it without Qimir’s help. It’s too high up. And there’s nothing for her to stand on. 

Shit.

She covers her face with her hands, wishing she could disappear. She can hear their kissing, hears Jenna make a sound that makes her stomach feel hollow. 

“Lay down, on the cot,” he says. “Strip.”

Osha covers her ears as the tears well up in her eyes. She plugs her fingers in them tight. She shouldn’t listen as he does everything to Jenna that he had done to her. She doesn’t know how long it goes on for. Every once in a while, she lets one finger out, just to check to see if they’re done. The sounds of fucking makes her teeth chatter. She starts shaking, worried that she’ll be stuck here all night, trapped. 

This is hell, she decides. 

Then, just when she feels like she’s fading into nothingness, a hand wraps around her arm—long fingers, tense—and she jolts. She spins to look up at Qimir. He’s dressed in only a pair of shorts. She glances past him—his cot is messy, but there’s no sign of Jenna. 

“Osha,” he says, voice pained, surprised. “How did you—?”

“Get me out of here, please,” she says, standing, pointing to the emergency shaft above. She’s angry. She can’t look at him, not knowing what just happened. 

Osha… no, please.” He tries to hold her, and she flinches away.

“Don’t touch me,” she says quietly.

“You really think I'm just gonna let you go? Again?”

Osha’s eyes dart from the cot, to his muscular frame, to her only way out. “Who is she?” she asks, trying to not look at his face. She fails. 

Qimir takes a deep breath and tilts his head up, hesitating. 

“Who is she, Qimir?”

“She’s the new third stew.” He rubs his neck. “She’s your replacement.”

“Oh, right. Right, of course.” Osha smiles at the irony of it, tears feeling pointless as her anger continues to build. 

“Osha, I didn’t know you would be here, in Saint Martin, on The Dreadnought! Why did you come back?!” He's yelling at her. 

The fucking audacity. 

Osha physically recoils at the anger in his voice, then remembers something crucial. He let her go to protect her. Now she's here, ruining the only plan he ever had. 

She explains herself. “I’m working a charter here, on the island. I found out where The Dreadnought was through the charter company. And I’m not going to just pass up an opportunity like that, am I?” She gives him a look, but he doesn’t say anything in response. His nostrils flare, and he bites his lip. The muscle in his jaw tightens, but he still doesn't answer. 

“Fine,” she says, breaking the silence. “I guess I was being naive to think there could still be something worth fighting for. Now give me a boost, please, before I do something I’ll regret.”

Like punch your fucking gorgeous face.

Qimir puts his hands around her waist as he comes closer to her from behind. “On three,” he says, as they’d always done before. He does the countdown and then hoists Osha up into the emergency shaft. 

Finally, she can get away from him, away from that place that was meant to only be for her and Qimir. Bringing anyone else in there for that—it feels like a stain.

She starts to crawl, then she hears something behind her. She stops and twists, looking behind her to find Qimir’s half-naked form. He looks up at her, dark hair draping over his face.

He needs to shave. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, exasperated.

“What does it look like I'm doing?” He's infuriating, he's breathing ragged, having just lifted himself into the shaft, and he is so, so wickedly attractive. 

His hair is too long.

Osha starts to crawl again. “Well, stop it.”

Qimir snorts. “Not a chance.”

Osha lets out an audible growl, then pushes up through the hatch carefully, checking her surroundings. No one is there. If the crew came back, they're all asleep now. She hoists herself up through the hatch and runs off the boat and onto the dock. She keeps walking down the dock quickly, and she recognizes the vibration under her feet. She has a shadow.

“Leave me alone,” she says, not turning around. 

“Tell me the name of the boat, at least.”

Osha turns, walking backwards as Qimir catches up to her. 

“Why?”

“Why do you think?” His eyes plead with her, question her.

Osha feels her chest tighten as she slows, conflicted. Qimir stops in front of her, and she can see the sweaty glimmer on his skin in the moonlight—the sweat he worked up while fucking Jenna. She frowns, not wanting to look at him any longer. 

It takes every ounce of feeling she has for him to say it, but she does. “Mea Culpa,” she says. 

“Mea Culpa,” he repeats, a smile forming. It means, “my fault” in Latin, and Osha tries to ignore the sound in his voice that indicates to her that he knows exactly what he's saying, and he means it. 

Osha's uncomfortable in the face of his casual demeanor. She turns and continues walking down the dock, away from him. He doesn't follow this time, having gotten the information he needs should he need to find her. She knows this, and it makes her angry, and yet… there’s hope.

When she gets into the cab, she holds down her emotions. She doesn't let it out until she gets back to her and Mae's room. 

“Oshie?” 

Osha immediately breaks upon hearing her sister's voice. She cries. She explains that Qimir is sleeping with the new third stew. She cries some more. And eventually she falls asleep.

Chapter Text

Qimir stands on the dock, watching Osha walk away. He's tempted to run after her, but he knows that wouldn't end well. He smiles. He wipes his face, the scent of Jenna on his skin making him feel like a dick. He moved on too fast, made too many excuses. And now he's hurt her—Osha. The only one that matters. And he doesn't know what it's going to take to win her back, but he will. 

He will, because he can't live without her. Jenna was just a distraction, a way to dull the pain. And he knows Osha would understand if he could just fucking talk to her, but he knows why she won't. He doesn't expect her to understand so soon—and after what she had to witnes. It will take time.

It's been forty days since he's seen her. 

(Trust him, he's been counting.)

And he's suddenly filled with something new; a creative energy that reaches from his head to his toes. She found him. That smart, sexy, wonderful girl found him. He flexes impatiently as he walks back to the beast. He knows she's done the research by now. 

Fugitive, wanted, criminal… Armed and dangerous. 

I was just a kid. 

But he's still the same kid. No one ever really grows up, not in some ways. The reality of it all hits him as he crawls back through the emergency shaft. Osha did this every time she wanted to be with him—crawled through this stuffy, cold place. And now, she's not coming back.

A little bit of her experience creeps into his belly and he suddenly feels more foolish and more naive than ever before. He looks at his bed, messy from sex with someone who isn't Osha. It wasn’t the first time, but it'll be the last. He then looks to the engine, then to the computer with his trinkets; the figurines, the stickers, the fucking Vader bobblehead and the shitty string of shells. 

Something tells him that he's not going to miss them.

~~~

Qimir inspects the shiny, rectangular block of glass and metal in his hands. “How do I…?”

The sales agent regards him with curiosity, then surprise. “Oh, well, you just…” He presses a button on the side and the screen lights up. Qimir nearly jumps. “I guess you’ve never used one of these before, have you?” the man asks politely. 

Qimir takes a deep breath, feeling embarrassed. “No.”

“Well, then, if you have a moment, I can show you some things.”

“Yes, please.” He says through his teeth.

After the sales agent shows him how to search the internet, make calls and texts, and access certain social media apps, Qimir types “Mea Culpa charter yacht” into the search bar. He looked up the yacht earlier on the computer, but without a phone, he’s still in the dark about where it’s at. Following a tense conversation with a booking agent, that may or may not have included a threat of violence, Qimir finally has the name of the marina Mea Culpa is berthed at. 

But he can’t go there just yet. They’re in the middle of a charter, and Qimir was only able to get off the beast to grab some provisions. Sol would likely chuck the phone into the sea if he finds it, so Qimir pockets it and heads back to The Dreadnought. 

“I can take that,” Jenna says as he steps onto the platform. She takes a box of provisions from him, and he simply nods. One problem at a time. 

But Jenna wants more of his attention, because of course she does, because he fucked her like he actually wanted her, and she lingers after helping him put away the provisions. 

She smiles at him. Here it comes. “I go on break in an hour. I was thinking maybe we could… you know.”

Qimir pulls his lips behind his teeth and shifts uncomfortably. “Jenna, things have… changed. We can’t keep seeing each other.” He says it like he’s working through it slowly, like he doesn’t want to say it but has to.

Jenna watches him closely. “Well this is… sudden. What the fuck changed?”

Qimir cringes. Of course she’s mad. She has every right to be mad. “I can’t tell you everything, but just know that it has nothing to do with you.” It’s too risky. If any information got back to Sol about Osha, then it would ruin his plans.

Jenna rolls her eyes and waves him away. “Whatever. Fuck you, Qimir.” Qimir rubs his face. That was somewhat easier than he thought it would be. 

“What was that all about?” Lowa says, appearing out of nowhere as she has a habit of doing.

“Hey,” Qimir turns to face her. “You and me… we need to talk.”

Qimir and Lowa walk up to the sun deck, far out of earshot of anyone else.

“Tasi,” he starts, using her first name.

She rubs her neck awkwardly. Qimir knows she doesn’t like using her first name, for the same reasons Qimir doesn’t use his given last name. Secrets, lies… the beast is filled with them.

He continues, “Things are going to change around here.”

Tasi shoots a glance at the bridge and Qimir nods. “You mean for good?” she asks.

“For good.”

“Is this about Osha?”

He squints at her. No way she knew about the other night. “I shouldn’t tell you.”

“Good. Don’t. But whatever happens, you should find her.”

He swallows and Tasi starts to leave, but he’s still not done. “Wait. Promise me you won’t change, no matter what happens.” He and Tasi were never friends, at least not in the traditional sense. But they knew each other’s secrets, and that was enough.

She regards him a moment. “Same to you.”

“Promise,” he says.

“Promise,” Tasi answers.

~#~

Osha falls backward into the water, putting the mouthpiece in and breathing in the oxygen from the tank on her back. Her employment on this yacht required one thing she didn’t have—a scuba certification. So Mae helped her forge one and taught her the basics. Her twin looks at her under the water, also in her gear, and gives her an okay sign. Osha responds with a thumbs up.

This particular yacht has two medium-sized anchors on the bow instead one huge one, and that tends to result in wacky mishaps. If the boat spins, the anchors get twisted in each other. Sometimes they’re too weak to hold, so one drags and gets caught in something deep down below—another anchor, a chain, a rock formation or reef.

Today, the latter has occurred, and Osha and Mae, along with one of the deckhands, dive into the blue to resolve the issue. Osha breaths as Mae taught her and watches her twin closely as they descend slowly to the seafloor. As the bubbles escape around her, she recalls something Qimir taught her about breath. It was one of those weird hobbies he had—breathing exercises. A coping mechanism, she initially figured. But there was more to it than that.

A memory forces its way in. “We feel through breathing, Osha,” he had said. She doesn’t want to feel. She can’t handle it. But here she is, underwater, where the only thing can do… is breathe.

In and out. The bubbles tickle her face and they drop deeper and deeper into the dark blue. Below her feet, Osha starts to make out the shape of a chain, caught around their anchor which is suspended between the boat and the ocean floor. Mae signals to her to help her tie two lines on the chain, while the deckhand resurfaces to pass on the situation to the captain.

As Osha ties the line tight, she notices something odd in the water. She looks to her left, but sees only blue. Visibility might be only a few feet, and she can’t help but imagine what could be just beyond. She breathes deeper, trying not to panic. Mae catches her attention, asking her to sign if she’s okay. Osha gives her a thumbs up again. Mae then instructs her to wait, swimming down further to inspect the chain more. She watches as Mae disappears too.

Osha’s alone now. She sees that thing move again, so she looks, and something swims past at lightning speed, right in front of her face. She swims backward, confused, and suddenly water is in her mouth. She holds her breath, trying to find what happened to the mouthpiece. She can’t breathe without air. She’s going to drown.

It couldn’t have been longer than three seconds, but for Osha, it’s a lifetime. She worries she’ll never breathe again. That she’ll never feel again. That she’ll never love again. She lets the darkness in, allows it to consume her, gives herself to it. It doesn’t matter. Nothing matters.

Then, deep in that dark abyss, there’s a beast that’s been waiting for her since she stepped foot on The Dreadnought. It stares at her through the blue, blinking its red eyes. It regards her with curiosity and wonder. And something slams into her—the lack of air, the need to breathe, the need to feel.

She’s not done yet.

In the deep recesses of her mind, Osha smiles at the beast, and she knows exactly where her mouthpiece is. She clutches it with both hands and puts it in her mouth.

And she breathes.

~#~

The days go by. Qimir finds Osha on social media. He scrolls through her posts about the boat she’s on, pictures of her and Mae and some views of Saint Martin. There’s nothing sad about the pictures, but in her latest selfie he can see that her eyes aren’t smiling and he curses himself for being the reason. 

Then comes the day when he can finally go to her. When he steps on the dock, still uncertain where the boat’s at exactly, he hears the sound of a group of people. He hides behind a piling as they pass by and then he hears her voice. She’s yelling at Mae playfully, something about smoking, wrestling for the carton Mae’s hidden in her purse. He waits for them to pass, then a little longer as they walk away from the dock.

Then he follows her, becoming her shadow.

###

“I swear, Oshie, I’ll only have one. It’s just one!”

Osha lets go of her sister and rolls her eyes. “Dammit, Mae.” The club they enter isn’t as loud as some of the ones they’ve been to, but it is dark. The tiki theme is warm and inviting, and it’s open air so they can still feel the ocean breeze.

“But first, we take shots! And you—you need to get laid.”

Osha sighs. “That’s a horrible idea.” They walk up to the bar together, separating from the rest of the crew.

“What? It’s a brilliant idea! The best way to get over someone is to get on top of someone else!” 

“You mean ‘under.’”

“Oh sorry, I forgot you’re a bottom.”

Osha jabs Mae in the side with her elbow, but she can’t help but smile. They take one shot, then another, then order something to sip on. Mae goes off to flirt with one of the stews from the Mea Culpa, and Osha’s eyes start to scout for potentials. She doesn’t actually care about getting laid tonight, but it would be nice to flirt with someone. To get her mind off Qimir for just a moment. 

Someone catches her eye first. He’s tall and tan, likely a deckhand on another yacht, and he’s definitely been checking her out. Osha does her best to give him a positive response. She bats her eyelashes like she’d seen Jenna do, then immediately regrets it. She probably looks like an idiot, blinking like that. But then he approaches her, and she begins to panic. He’s not exactly her type, if she even has a type. He looks more like Yord than like Qimir—a comparison that she definitely shouldn’t be making. 

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks. Before she knows it, they’re on the dance floor, swaying to the beat, Well, Osha is. This guy doesn’t exactly have rhythm. But he holds her hips tight and Osha doesn’t have to look at him as she moves her ass on his crotch. 

God, she wants to be fucked. It’s probably just the alcohol talking, but just the thought of the fleshy sounds of sex makes her cunt throb. She spins around and puts her arms around the guy’s neck, hoping he’ll make a move and kiss her.

“Do you wanna take this somewhere else?” he asks. 

She nods. Close enough. “Let me just go tell my sister. I’ll meet you out front.” Osha moves through the crowd, finding Mae in a corner with some of the other crew members. She tells her quickly, and Mae gives her a high five, followed by a hug. Then she goes to the restroom to check her makeup. It’s just a single room, and as she’s closing the door behind her, a hand presses against it, pushing it back open. Osha jumps back. 

Qimir fills her vision. He’s wearing that fucking white linen shirt that he wore that time he fucked her in the laz. She backs against the wall as he locks the door behind him.

“Osha.” He says her name like he’s breathing in fresh air after being underwater for too long, and it hurts.

“How did you… Why are you…?”

“Please, just listen.”

Osha crosses her arms. “You have five minutes.”

“I only need one.”

She nods. He approaches her more closely, carefully, like he’s trying to tame a wild animal.

“Jenna was a distraction, so I would stop thinking about you all the time. I broke it off with her. And I—” He pulls something out of his pocket. “I got a phone.” That surprises her. “And I have a plan.”

“You said that last time.”

“It’s different now.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m ready this time. I wasn’t before, I get that now. But this time, Osha…” He swallows hard, and Osha can see that he means it. And whatever this plan is, it’s big.

“What are you going to do?” she asks, worried for his response.

“Osha… We’re gonna burn down the beast.”

The beast. His home. The only home he’s had for the last fifteen years. The place where they fucked. The place they fell in love. How could he do something so destructive, so violent? 

“You can’t. Why? Why in the world would you?”

“To explain that, I’ll need more than five minutes.”

Osha holds a palm to her forehead, thinking. She doesn’t want him to leave. “Where can we go?”

“There’s a hotel nearby.”

Osha gives him a stern look.

“No, I don’t mean to… It’s safe there.”

She nods. “Fine, let’s go.” She follows him out, through a hallway, then a back exit. She’s relieved she doesn’t have to run into the guy she was about to have a one-night-stand with.

When her heels hit the brick pavers, she stumbles. “Dammit,” she winces. Qimir turns and rushes to her, looking at her feet.

“Are you okay?”

Osha tries to stand and walk, but her ankle sends a pain up her leg. “It hurts.”

Qimir squats and turns his back to her. “Get on,” he says.

“No.”

“Well I’m not letting you walk on that.”

Osha grimaces, wishing things weren’t so strained between them. But she climbs on his back without a word and he pulls her legs around his waist. A piggyback ride. Something about being carried this way breaks a wall down. To be carried, held, loved. Osha lets her head fall into the crook of his neck, and he tilts into her.

“I should’ve never let you go,” he says. “I missed you.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did.” He lets the silence hang for a moment, then adds, “Do you want me to say what I missed?”

“Yeah.”

“I missed sneaking you a protein bar when you forgot to eat breakfast during charter. I missed that face you made when I didn’t put enough sugar in your tea.”

Osha snorts.

“I missed how you would play me songs that made you feel nostalgic and how you would describe what it was like to be teenager in your world. I never got to be a teen, you know. Not really.”

It makes her sad. He dodged so many questions when they were together, but he still had lived this full life—more than she could ever imagine. He’d been all over the world, had met so many different types of people. He had enough stories to sink the beast. And yet, it wasn’t what he truly wanted.

“You should’ve told me… about your past,” she says.

“Do you think you would’ve looked at me the same if I had?”

Osha nuzzles his neck. He still smells the same. “I don’t want to play a game of ‘what ifs.’ I just want to know what was real.”

He snorts. “All of it was real. It’s still real. And I’m sorry.”

Osha rests her chin on his shoulder. “I missed you too.”

He walks at a leisurely pace, then pulls Osha up more on his back. She tightens her grip on him.

“I know you’re still mad at me. And you should be. You can punch me in the face when we get to the hotel.”

Osha smiles.

“It’s only fair. You shouldn’t have had to endure that. All of it.” He squeezes her legs slightly, letting her know he really means it.

“Maybe just a slap. Then a punch to the balls.” She sees his throat bob.

“I suppose that’s fair.”

“It is. You moved on after only—”

“I never moved on, Osha. From you?” He snorts. “You could never be replaced.”

Osha nuzzles him again—grease and salt and tea. It brings her back.

“It was forty days by the way. Forty days from the moment I left you on the dock to the moment I saw you in the engine room.” He puts her down gently then turns around. She looks up at him, then around at where they’ve ended up. The hotel reaches up high in the sky. It’s fancier than most places on the beach.

“Fine, one punch to the face. I’ll leave your precious balls intact.”

“That’s surprisingly gracious.”

Osha gestures to the hotel. “You can afford this?” she asks.

He smiles. “You know… the funny thing about living and working on a charter yacht, is that you get to keep all the tips.”

~~~

“Let’s get this over with,” he says, jumping and twisting his neck as though he’s about to enter a boxing ring.

“You nervous?” Osha’s enjoying watching him like this. She never thought she’d enjoy being in control like this. In this context? It feels fucking good.

“I’m not stupid. I know you’re strong. Especially when you’re—”

“SMACK”

Osha figures it’s best to hit him when he’s not anticipating it. She shakes her hand. Turns out—punching people in the face hurts you too.

“Shit,” he says, holding his nose.

She winces. “Are you bleeding? Did I break it?”

“Fucking hell.” He shakes his head then touches the bridge gently. “I think it’s fine.” He hisses. Osha sees tears welling in his eyes. Good.

“I need some fresh air,” he says, walking out to the balcony, pinching his nose as though he expects blood.

Osha follows. She can see Mea Culpa from here, and she leans over the railing, trying to find Mae in the crowd that’s stumbling out of the bar they were just at.

“Glad to see you haven’t lost your edge,” he says, scrunching his face and nose.

She regards him, feeling better after punching him, but also unresolved. “Why didn’t you tell me, Qimir?” She hears the pain in her voice. She can’t hide it. A breeze hits them, hot and salty, and Qimir turns to face her, hair whipping his face.

“Because I’m a coward. And I was selfish. I didn’t want what we had to just stop.”

“But it was going to.”

He doesn’t answer, just stares at her, mind elsewhere. Finally, he snaps out of it.

“Come on,” he says, “This might take all night.”

“All night?” She goes back inside and slides the door shut behind her. “I still don’t believe you’re gonna burn it.”

She sits on the bed and Qimir sits across from her in a chair, then he tells her the plan. 

“I’m going down with the beast.”

She snorts, then sees in his face that he’s serious. “What do you mean?”

He takes out his phone and his fingers awkwardly move over the device as he pulls up a picture. It’s a blueprint of the boat. “I’ve mapped it all out.” He explains to her the details, and Osha listens intently, hanging on every word. When he’s finished, he leans back and sighs. 

“So, at least legally, I’ll be dead.”

“But… what happens after?”

He puts away his phone then looks up at her, eyes full of desire. “You tell me.”

Osha sits on her hands, not knowing what to say. She looks down at her feet as they swing inches from the floor. She feels small and confused.

“Osha, my feelings for you never changed.”

She looks at him and she knows it’s the truth. Then Qimir moves, standing, entering her space. She leans back, holding her breath. He follows, inches from her as her body falls onto the bed. Qimir hovers over, not touching her, and Osha’s skin is on fire as his dark eyes search her face.

She doesn’t protest, and Qimir takes it for consent as he puts a hand on her face. She physically reacts to the touch—her eyes close as she leans into him. Her back arches. And soon, his lips are on her own. That familiar taste of tea hits her tongue, and she’s kissing him back. It’s messy and uncoordinated. She wants to devour him as much as he wants to her, and it sends a warm wave over her body, crashing into her core as his hand falls onto her hip. 

“I want you,” she whispers, tugging at his shirt. He moves quickly with her clothes and his own, not stopping for anything. His clothes drop to the floor and he flings her across the room. He’s ravenous, taking each breast in his mouth, sucking, nibbling, treasuring. Osha watches him as he traces kisses back to her lips, then she holds him close as they kiss more slowly, tongues playing with each other. She rolls her hips up, pressing her cunt against his length. He takes the hint, rubbing his hips on her in return and pushing his cock against her clit. Their mouths open at the sensation and Osha’s legs spread even more as he pushes himself inside her. The sounds from Qimir’s mouth are as loud as her own, and he starts rolling his hips, moving himself in and out of her, but clinging to her tightly.

Osha pulls him into a kiss, catching his moans in her mouth. “Say something,” she says. 

Qimir looks at her, then smirks. “Like what?”

Osha smiles. “Come on.”

“Do you want me to say how much I like fucking your perfect little cunt? How you’re such a good girl, taking my cock?”

Osha moans in approval, mouth opening, round and wet. Qimir’s tucks his thumb in there, hooked in her cheek, and she sucks on it while looking into his dark eyes.

“How much I missed you. How much I love you. I love you and never stopped loving you.”

Osha’s breath pitches as she clenches his ass in her hands. She has him now, and she’s not letting him go.

“My perfect little Osha,” he says, pulling his thumb out of her mouth. She whines. “Mine,” he growls, fucking her faster. His hips grind into her. The end is imminent. He lets out a sharp moan, then grits his teeth. Osha’s cunt flutters, tightening on his cock, causing him to come. She rides the waves of her own orgasm, hips rolling up as she winds down. 

Qimir studies her face, tracing her features. “What am I going to do with you?”

Osha smiles, feeling resolved, realizing what is ahead. “I want to go with you.”

Qimir takes a deep breath, but he seems happy, like something’s settled into place. “I was hoping you would.” He kisses her on the nose, then lightly rubs his own against it before kissing her again. It’s a agreement, a deal, sealed with a nose touch. They’re equals in this. And in all things.

From now on.

~#~

It’s time. 

Qimir and Osha set things in the engine exactly how they need to be to spark a fire—a big one. Osha rewires the initial alarms so that the first hint of smoke will be enough to tell the crew to evacuate. They’re trained for this, so Qimir’s not worried anyone will be hurt.

“On my signal,” he says to Osha, who sits near the engine, hand on a control panel. He listens to the radio chatter. No guests are onboard. The crew is running drills upstairs, anchored near their next charter pickup. It’s perfect.

“Now,” he says. Osha flips the switch. They have just ten minutes until things get dire, so they start to move to the emergency hatch, when someone walks in through the door.

Shit.

It’s simply bad luck. Sol stands in the doorway, his eyes narrowing on them both. Qimir instinctively steps in front of Osha. 

“What are you doing?” Sol asks, moving to the engine’s computer. He’s worried. The nearby alert panel starts to light up, but the alarms aren’t sounding. 

“Sol, listen to me, you have to get off The Dreadnought,” Qimir starts, knowing that he can’t reverse what’s been done.

“Why aren’t you fixing it?” Sol says, angry. 

“Not this time.”

Sol approaches them. At first, he’s confused, then his eyes widen. “This is how you’re going to solve all your problems? This boat saved your life!”

“No, you saved my life, Sol. And then you tried to kill me when I became a burden.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“I have the scar to prove it. You fixed that chain on the bow so it would snap and then when my back was turned—”

“He’s lying, Osha. That’s what he does, can’t you see?”

Qimir looks to Osha. Her eyes are sad, and she’s glaring at Sol. She won’t be fooled by him.

Qimir continues. “I know you’re tired of this—of me. I don’t know why you never saw it through—killing me—but this is your chance to lose me for good. Please. Just let us go.”

“I am the Captain of this vessel and I will see to it that it does not sink!”

“But it will! It’s over, Sol. Not even I could fix it now.”

Qimir wishes he could hurt the old man, but there are others on the boat. He needs Sol to get them off. He needs him to order them to abandon ship.

So he tries a different tactic. “You didn’t kill me then, why? Why didn’t you finish the job?” Something sparks nearby, pouring an acrid smoke into the room.

Sol shakes his head. “I didn’t. I didn’t… mean to. I thought that…”

“Why, Sol? Tell me!”

“You were just a boy.” He shakes his head, looking at him with a softened expression. “You’re still just a boy.”

Qimir swallows. He wasn’t expecting that. He always thought Sol only saw a criminal when he looked at him. Sol works through the reality. There’s anger, then realization, then something in Sol breaks, and he steps back, holding his head in his hand. He shakes his head before saying, “How long do we have?”

“Not long enough. Just get everyone on the tender.”

Sol nods and sends out a radio message to the crew to evacuate. Qimir spins around and quickly helps Osha through the emergency shaft. 

___

The fire burns through the engine room, bursting the pipes and shooting streams of oil and grease, all in flames, over everything. The cot, the computer, the alert panel that’s lit up like a Christmas tree. The Vader bobblehead melts in the heat. The string breaks, spilling seashells all over the floor. The glass jars of tea leaves burst. All of Qimir’s things—his world—goes up in flames. 

From there, it spreads through the crew’s quarters, the galley, the laundry room. It moves up the stairs to the salon, then up further to the Bridge where it engulfs the captain’s chair. And it’s only then when The Dreadnought finally gives up. The beast breathes its last breath.

The entire vessel explodes. 

Fugitive, wanted for over a decade, perishes in yacht fire

Updated 4:37 PM October 21, 2024 | Qimir Bacolod thirty-five year old of Manilla, Philippines who was wanted for drug crimes and assault with a deadly weapon, died after becoming trapped in an on-board fire that began in the engine room of a sailing yacht. The yacht’s captain spoke to police, telling them no one else was on board when the vessel caught fire. 

Police confirmed that no one in the crew was aware of Bacolod’s criminal background, despite a few working with him for many years. Bacolod’s family could not be reached for comment. 

Osha twists the throttle of the jetski, going as fast as she can and cutting through the greenish blue water as though she’s flying. The jagged limestone mountains that wear tropical greenery like hats make her feel like she’s on a different planet, and she weaves around the boat traffic, smiling at the tourists as they take the long-tail boats island hopping. 

Her destination isn’t far now, and she slows down on the approach.

“Hey speed demon, you get everything on the list?” Qimir shouts from the sailboat.

Osha smiles at him and he helps her tie up the watercraft before pulling her into a kiss. “You know we have radios. You don’t need to shout,” she says.

“Come on, I set dinner up on the deck.” 

They put the provisions away, they eat dinner, they chat about nonsensical things. Then, as the sun starts to dip down over the horizon, Qimir holds Osha closer, his hands lazily tracing her body. He reaches up to cup her breast, and Osha sinks into the feeling, giving into him easily as his lips start to kiss her neck. 

“You wanna be tied up?” he asks against her skin.

“Yeah,” she breathes out, trying to get up so they can move this somewhere more private. Qimir reluctantly lets her go. The last thing they need is for someone to call the authorities because of indecent exposure. But as soon as Osha steps on the stairs that lead below deck, she realizes she forgot something. She runs back to the deck where they were, then spots Pip where she left him.

“What are you doing?” Qimir asks after popping his head out from below. He looks at her as always does, like he owes everything he has to her. She brought him out of the darkness. He wasn’t worthy of it, but she loved him anyway.

Osha clips the radio to her shorts, behind her. In that place Qimir first touched her. He brought so much to her world. He brought her face-to-face with her demons, something she could only explore in the darkness. They met in the middle, somewhere between dark and light, good and evil. They made a place for themselves there—a new life.

Osha yells back, “I almost forgot Pip!”

Qimir smiles wide as she runs back to him, slapping her on the ass as she passes him. Then, they disappear together, below deck.