Archive of Our Own

It's the wrong side of midnight when the monster hunter arrives.

Jason has been alone on the docks for hours, waiting patiently by the ship. It's a full moon, an autumn chill in the air, and one moment Jason's watching the shadows, and the next, Slade has materialized like a wraith, light gleaming off the long length of his bone-white hair.

"Wasn't sure you'd actually come," Jason says, straightening from his stiff hunch.

Slade's lone, ice-blue eye fixes on him. "I don't renege on a contract. The cargo that was delivered this evening?"

Jason rises from his cold perch on wooden crates containing what he thinks is grain, then nods toward a matte black trunk he received on Slade's behalf earlier the previous day. "Right there."

"You didn't open it and peek, did you?" Slade raises his eyebrow, removing a pair of leather gloves from his belt and pulling them on.

Jason hesitates. "No."

"No?"

"I—touched it. Just the exterior. It... it burned."

Slade smirks. He approaches the trunk, sinking to a crouch before it and trailing his fingers along the seam of where the lid should be. Jason couldn't see any way into the trunk, seemingly one unbroken piece of an unidentifiable material, but the moment Slade touches it, cherry-red runes like glowing coals ignite on the surface and sides, and the lid of the trunk opens itself. A cloud of thick smoke spills out, but once it clears, Jason sucks in a sharp breath.

Some kind of... being is tucked inside. Jason can hear it breathing, see the rise of fall of its chest. It looks mostly human, what he can see of it, but as all the hair on his body stands on end, Jason knows, on a deep instinctual level, that this creature is demonic.

"An incubus," Slade says, gesturing briskly into the trunk.

"I thought you'd do a spell, or something," Jason says haltingly, unable to look away from the thing curled inside the trunk. "Anoint the ship with... an oil, or..." he trails off, feeling stupid.

"I'm a hunter, kid," Slade says, huffing out a laugh. "I might have a spell or two on hand, but what you're suggesting doesn't exist. You're paying good gold, and my methods don't fail. You want to prevent mutiny on a long voyage? Then this is exactly what you want." He leans over the trunk, grasping the demon by a handful of thick black hair, and tugs. "Up, little bird. Time to work."

To Jason's surprise, the demon does as it's told. It unfolds from inside the trunk with preternatural grace, sitting up with a muffled grunt. It needs help from Slade to actually stand and step out, revealing that despite being sealed in a trunk only Slade can open, the demon is also heavily restrained.

The demon is mostly nude, warm, sun-kissed skin exposed to the moonlight, but from chin to navel, the demon is wrapped in a restrictive, punishingly tight leather straitjacket. It's arms are bundled up snugly, straps and buckles showing the demon is forced to hug itself around the waist, deprived of the use of it's hands. Two windows are cut away at the chest, exposing gently-rounded pectoral muscles. Almost like a woman's breasts. They'd fit sweetly into Jason's hands, either way. The demon's nipples are pierced by small iron bars, and the piercings are painfully connected by a tightly drawn chain, each nub puffy and swollen.

From the waist down, is is completely exposed. The angles and curves of the creature's hips and pelvis are perfectly sculpted, leading into long, graceful legs. It's ankles are locked in matte metal cuffs, linked by a very short chain to hobble it. Jason is trying not to focus on the space between the demon's legs, but he finds himself staring openly at the demon's genitals with helpless curiosity. It has a cock, but Slade has locked and compressed the length of it into a shiny metal contraption that looks like a wicked little cage. The metal cage extends back to circle and crush the demon's swollen balls. It looks like it would cause incredible discomfort.

"Does it have a name?" Jason is transfixed. The demon looks just human enough that if it were dressed, Jason's eyes might pass over it in a crowd, but it's beauty is uncanny, and it feels wrong. Jason's skin feels too tight, and heat is rising, sweat prickling his upper lip, under his arms, behind his knees. His mouth is watering, like he's starving, and a pleasant contentment is spreading from his core.

"Hm?" Slade is busy rummaging through whatever was packed in the trunk beneath the demon. "He claims to be named Richard, but I call him Dick. Feels appropriate."

Dick has noticed Jason. Deep blue eyes, glowing from within like nothing else in nature, flick to his face. Jason flushes from head to toe at the sudden, focused attention. "He's beautiful," he says lamely. It's too small a word to describe the demon, but he's been largely struck dumb.

"Don't compliment him," Slade grunts. "His ego will swell."

Dick is wearing a stiff leather collar locked around his throat, with four silver rings dangling from the straps that are each etched with a different rune. He's gagged, as well, with what looks like a polished blue gem the size of a goose egg. It stretches Dick's mouth wide, his lips and the gag gleaming with saliva. The gem is also carved with faint runes. A leather harness cradling his jaw and the crown of his head holds the gag firmly in place and small locks dangle from the buckles.

It's clear there are many layers of caution involved in keeping this creature in a permanent state of submission.

"What happens if he's allowed to speak?" Jason asks unsteadily.

"He seduces you, mesmerizes you, and, depending on how hungry he is, it will seem like your only objective in life is to fuck him until you die. His skills are very specific, so his magic is well-known and easy to neutralize. It's finding creatures like him that's a challenge. I've had him for a few years. He's very useful, as long as he's kept... contained." Slade's voice is light and conversational.

The corner of Dick's mouth ticks up in a smirk, and Jason catches a glimpse of very sharp fang-like incisors. His eyes are bright with mischief that could easily slide from playful to malevolent. Jason shudders, even as arousal pools between his legs.

Dick winks at him. He has a set of horns nearly hidden in the thick sweep of his hair, curving back from his forehead. Jason realizes with a start that it's not just the glow of his irises that's inhuman, but when his pupils contract, they're slitted, like a cat's.

"He's obviously dangerous," Jason admits. "And I don't understand how anything to do with him will prevent a mutiny."

Slade grunts. "In his current state, no, it would probably cause one. But Dickie here won't be boarding the ship like this. I asked about a figurehead?"

Jason wrenches his attention off the now-glowering incubus and blinks at Slade. "Yes. Follow me."

Slade shoulders a bag, then snaps his fingers at Dick. "Little bird. Come."

Dick makes a noise, muffled by the gag, and reluctantly obeys the command. His restraints all jingle as he shuffles to Slade, and when Slade attaches a leash to his collar, he moans in dismay, tossing his head.

The noises go straight to Jason's dick, and he's suddenly harder than he's ever been in his life. He hurries down the dock, towards the prow of the ship.

lade and Dick follow him at a more sedate pace, giving Jason a moment to readjust himself in his trousers. "It's not a mermaid or nothin'," Jason says, gesturing, "But it's carved from good wood. It's meant to be a breaking wave."

Surprisingly, Slade smiles broadly. Dick, heeling at his elbow on the end of a short leash, looks up at the curves of carved wood with an expression of resignation. "This will do nicely," Slade says, "Won't it, little bird? You'll be perfectly comfortable."

Jason blinks in confusion. "Wait, what?"

They mount Dick to the figurehead.

Literally mount him.

Jason has to climb up the carving with a rope securing him around the waist, first, carrying two glass phalluses Slade has precise instructions on how to screw into one of the wooden waves. One of the toys is massive, nearly the width and length of Jason's forearm, the glans almost the size of Jason's fist. The second is shorter, but wider at the base, not molded to look like a male member, but instead taking the shape of a massive, elongated egg.

When Jason peers back down at the dock to check on what Slade is doing, he sees the big man has Dick laid out on his back, and he's removed the chain linking his cuffed ankles. With each leg free, Slade is methodically strapping Dick's ankles to his thighs, folding each leg at the knee and binding them tightly.

Dick is trying to talk, but the gag makes him unintelligible, and he squirms and kicks until Slade finishes what he's doing, Dick rendered helpless, all his limbs neutralized by chains and leather. "You about ready up there?" Slade asks, raising his voice over Dick's muffled complaints.

"Almost," Jason says. He braces his feet against one of the waves, sliding on a pair of gloves before carefully removing a vial of oil from his pocket. Slade warned him not to let the substance touch bare skin. He unstoppers the vial and pours it over each glass phallus, using his gloved fingers to smear a thin layer over the full surface of each. Once he's finished, he discards the empty vial and sullied gloves into the water. "Ready," he calls.

Slade hauls Dick up off the dock as if he weighs nothing, then flips him over his shoulder. Dick's voice rises, whining wordlessly, and the smack of Slade's hand across the curve of his plush, ample ass echoes off the water. Dick squeals, then subsides with a lusty moan, panting raggedly as Slade carries him to the base of the figurehead.

"I'm sure you can guess where he goes," Slade says, head tilted up to where Jason dangles on the end of the rope.

Looking down, Jason can only see the pale moon of Dick's bare ass where Slade has him braced over his shoulder with a gloved hand spread over one round cheek. "But we need to secure him thoroughly once he's installed. You'll use the straps I provide, and hammer each one through the grommets into the wood."

"This is insane," Jason says, even as he releases the winch and lowers himself down to take Dick from Slade. "We can't sail with a living being mounted to the figurehead. Even if he is a demon that would happily fuck us all to death."

Slade passes the wriggling, squirming, drooling, loudly complaining incubus securely into Jason's arms with a dismissive grunt. "Just get to work. You don't want the sun to rise before we're finished, do you?"

Jason sets his jaw. "No. I need you to board and haul me back up, then."

Dick is very, very warm, and he smells pleasantly of woodsmoke and vanilla. Jason cradles him like a new bride, one arm under his leather-wrapped shoulders, the other bracing his bound legs.

The moment Slade disappears from view to climb the gangplank, Dick fixes pitiful blue eyes on Jason, pushes his chest up appealingly, and moans, "nngh, pleugh, pleeugh!" through the gag.

Jason's erection, having wilted a little, stiffens right back up again. He shakes his head with faltering conviction. He's being treated to a real eyeful, pierced tits and a cock in chastity, a drooling, stuffed mouth, and exposed, empty holes, all bundled up like a present in his arms. "No. There's no point begging. You're a demon. He's the expert. Besides," he adds when Dick heaves a gusty sigh and rolls his eyes to the heavens. "You want sex. Maybe they're not real, uh, you know, but you can enjoy yourself on them without killing anyone."

"Hey," Slade calls down. "Cut that out. I'm hauling you back up and setting the winch. Then I'll lower down a bag of restraints and tools. Make sure you don't drop everything into the ocean. Dick included."

"Yessir," Jason mumbles. In his arms, Dick huffs sharply through his nose.

Jason rises back to his previous height, once again bracing both feet against the prow. His own thighs give him a shelf to balance Dick against while he shifts his weight, lifting him by the waist before he can lower him onto the glass toys. Then Jason freezes.

"Wait," he says.

Slade's white head pokes back out over the rail. "What? What's taking so long? Get him in position, boy, we don't have all night."

"There are two," Jason protests stupidly. "He... how..."

Slade exhales impatiently. "He has a cunt and an asshole, you idiot. Now get him in place."

By now, Jason's cock is straining against his trousers, and his cheeks are burning with humiliation and desire. Dick has stopped squirming, plainly worried about being dropped, and he doesn't fight as Jason lines him up and lowers him onto his seat. Slade chose a wave jutting straight out from the figurehead, forming an almost saddle-like shape, and as the toys catch both of Dick's holes, he slides smoothly down with the aid of Jason's hands clamped firmly around his slender waist.

As the toys fill him up, Dick succumbs to the pleasure and pressure and friction of being penetrated, his unearthly eyes glazing over and rolling back in his sockets. He lets out a low, throaty groan that has Jason leaking into his smallclothes, and all that warm skin flushes under the cool slant of moonlight, sweat gleaming. He's panting, chest rising and falling deeply, as he trembles and twitches.

Jason doesn't entirely believe his body can take it all, but he does, sinking all the way down until his locked, packaged little cock rests flush on the wave, and his bound legs dangle on either side of it.

"Tools incoming," Slade calls, and lowers the bag down to him.

Impaled as he is, there's little chance of Dick tipping to either side and falling, but Jason still moves quickly, using his knees to pin Dick around the waist. Slade guides him on where the straps should go, hammering each one into the wood. When Jason is finished, Dick can't move a single inch, fixed by his gag harness, collar, and straitjacket, as well as locking each bound leg into place, and finishing with a thick restraint across his waist.

Dick is moaning, deep and heady, a hellish flush suffused in his warm skin, his hips trying desperately to move against the intrusions he's seated on. The phallus occupying his cunt is so large Jason can see it bulging out Dick's abdomen. Jason wishes he could see behind Dick to where his cheeks are clenched around the fat glass plug stuffed inside his asshole.

"He looks secure," Slade says approvingly. "We're almost done. There's a leather hood in the bag. Lace that over his head, then you can take care of your little problem."

Jason has extracted the hood and tugged it down over Dick's head, sealing those glassy blue eyes away beneath smooth buttery leather, when he blinks and says, "What? Take care of... what?"

Slade just laughs.

Jason tugs the laces tight and looks up. "I don't have a problem."

"Yes, you do. Don't worry, it's perfectly natural to respond to him like that. I'll give you some privacy. Just make sure you come on him when you finish. It'll help with the rest of the preparation."

"I'm not going to—"

Slade has already retreated. Jason leans back into the rope and gives it maybe thirty seconds of thought before he pulls out his cock and jerks himself off, quick and dirty, spilling all over Dick's distended belly with an explosive orgasm.

Beneath the hood, muffled by the gag, Dick groans with hearty approval.

Ten minutes later, Jason lowers himself back down to the dock, cleans himself up with a rag, and feels reasonably calm when Slade rejoins him.

Together, they stand on the dock with their arms crossed, looking up at Dick where he's perched helplessly on the figurehead, impaled and struggling, chest visibly heaving with every whimper and moan he makes. Whatever was in the oil Slade had him apply seems to be having some sort of effect on him, stoking his arousal even in this state of suspended pleasure.

"How do you stand it?" Jason finally asks. "Just... having him around all the time?"

"Easy," says Slade. "When he's hungry, I fuck him. He'd die, otherwise. Keeping him sated makes him docile."

"I still don't understand," says Jason. "He'll be there for weeks. Won't he starve? How will that prevent mutiny?"

"One last thing," says Slade. "A spell I got from an actual wizard." He extracts a small scroll, unrolling it with two fingers. He reads out the words, and there's a brief burst of light as the magic rolls over Dick's trapped body. When Jason blinks his eyes clear, he sucks in a startled breath.

Dick's body has petrified to wood. He's become part of the figurehead, blending in naturally, a mermaid riding a cresting wave. If Jason looks closely, there's... maybe something a little perverse about the mermaid's fixed expression of denial and longing.

"Stars above," Jason breathes, stunned. "Is.... is he still alive?"

"If you think I'd sacrifice my pet demon for this, you're more of an idiot than I thought, boy."

Jason huffs. "Then—"

"Yes," Slade says heavily. "He's very much alive in there, just... dormant. He won't need to feed or breathe for the duration of your voyage. With him on board, your crew benefits passively from his presence while he's in this state. You'll find everyone amenable, friendly, and relaxed," Slade explains, beginning to gather any discarded equipment. "When the ship returns, leave a message for me at the port authority office. I'll come reverse the spell, then pack him up and take him home. I expect you'll have the other half of my payment waiting."

Jason swallows hard, fixed on the vague lines of Dick's trapped body in the wood.

Slade straightens, fixing one cold eye on Jason. "I wouldn't recommend trying to steal him, by the way. I'm not a man to be trifled with."

"Right," says Jason. "Wouldn't dream of it."