Tempest
Captain Squall eyed the sliver of land on the port side. They were nearing Jenova Cove; he knew that just below the waters off the coast were jagged rocks that had claimed many good ships. Worse, there had never been word of survivors making it to land, despite the shallow waters.
Squall motioned to his first mate, and then watched his men, to ensure that every last one of them stopped their ears with wax, before doing so himself.
There were things pirates knew, better than merchants and men of law, because a pirate knew the sea like a lover does. Knew its moods, its secrets, and knew that the superstition and the fairy tales all had a grain of truth.
Captain Squall knew it wasn't the rocks that caused men to perish. There were worse things than rocks, and among them were the sirens of Jenova Cove, the creatures known for luring men to their deaths with bewitching voices. But, if rumors were true, just up the coast was a safe harbor, and an untouched treasure. Gold and jewels to buy a life of happiness and rum, more than enough to keep Squall comfortably at sea for as long as he wanted. Even better, the challenge of succeeding, where others had failed, made it a goal worth pursuing.
So they sailed around, the land only just in sight, giving the cursed cove a wide berth, using hand signals in lieu of speech. Squall would take no chances this far out, though the real danger would be their approach.
It went well enough, the Tempest anchored a small way out, and two rowboats settled on the sand as Squall and his landing party ventured into the tropical growth of the island.
They even found the treasure, chests of riches tucked into a hidden cave, and Squall was always one to do his part, even as a captain, so he helped them drag it to the rowboats. It was as he turned to survey the waters, gauging the distance to the Tempest, that there was the sharp pain of something smashing against the back of his head, and the world went black.
He came to with the tide, salt water already lapping at his thighs.
Squall cursed, and the sound of it brought him fully awake. He pressed hands to his ears to confirm that, yes, the wax there was gone.
Mutineed. Stranded on a siren's island. Treasure gone.
He cursed again, lurching to his feet, mind racing. The first step was to get away from the water, away from the creatures that lay in wait, ready to devour him.
"Where are you going?" Squall's eyes snapped back to the beach, searching for the speaker. Had it been one of his men?
There was no one. He spoke with all the authority of a pirate captain: "Show yourself!"
The low voice came again. "I hear there's pirates on the island. You should be careful." The man's voice turned into a pleasant hum. "But aren't you a pirate?"
Squall took a step back towards the water, looking for the owner of the voice. "I'm a ship's captain," he supplied.
The voice laughed. "And no ship!"
Squall's mouth set in a hard line. He strained his ears, trying to gauge the direction it came from. There was a rock formation to one side of the beach, a jumble of boulders that would be an easy hiding place; he headed towards it.
He'd already forgotten the need to stop his ears, to turn away from the water.
Squall glimpsed a flicker of movement, there in a gap in the rocks, barely visible in the fading light. He kept his eyes on the spot, and was rewarded as a man stood up in the space, his lower half still obscured by the rocks, but his upper half bare, all smooth skin and lean muscle. A head of light hair, spiked by a sea breeze, and pale eyes catching a ray of errant sunshine.
He stopped a small ways back and crossed his arms, studying the man. "Well aren't you pretty."
"No. I'm Cloud." Cloud draped himself over the rocks, eyes following Leon with something like hunger. "Come to rescue me, Captain?"
Squall found his feet moving, taking him closer to the other. "I—". He was at the rocks now, picking his way than less care than he ought to. He stumbled, a foot catching on uneven ground, and when he caught his balance again, he was standing nearly over Cloud.
"Come closer, lover," he murmured, and Squall couldn't help but comply, even as a part of him was trying to rebel. There was something wrong.
"I—"
"That's right," Cloud hummed, reaching for his hand.
Squall could see it clearly, now, the way Cloud's skin blended seamlessly into grey around his waist, the tail in lieu of legs. The sinuous muscle under it, the soft-looking fins, splayed on the rock that he'd balanced on. Squall never seen a siren before, had always imagined them as ugly, evil things, but Cloud was…
So beautiful. More so than anything he'd ever seen in his life before, and he was happy to offer Cloud his hand. It was bliss, when their hands came together, and, in short order, their lips. He wanted to offer Cloud more than his hand, more than his lips. He fought the haze of his mind.
"Cloud, please. Anything you want, just tell me." He spared a thought for his ship, probably leagues away by now, with the chests of riches, but even that didn't seem enough.
Cloud's lips stretched in a grin, his teeth showing yellow and sharp. "Captain, I want your life."
Squall nodded, pressing himself closer to the merman. "Yes, please."