Treasure Island: Gemmy 🏝️ Fanfiction Long John Silver was t..

Treasure Island: Gemmy 🏝️ Fanfiction

Long John Silver was terrifying. The soul of him shown in his deep eyes, dark and playful. He was mischievous in deed and impish in word, though not a man you would be inclined to stand up against.

“Gem,” Silver called above the crashing of the waves against the solid ship, “Help me with this would you?”

I dropped the heavy, salt-crusted ropes I had been looping up into tidy bundles on the ship’s deck. Not but a few yards away, Silver was working on the same task, but with much bigger rigging. He handed me an end and between the two of us we untangled it then I walked closer to him with my end and we doubled it over a few times before securing it.

“It beats peeling potatoes still, don’t it?” I jested, laughing at the older man, his skin bright from the productive morning.

“Which reminds me,” he started slowly, “we better get to work on that if we expect to finish in time.”

Why did I have to remind him?

Sitting down like we always did, Silver and I on overturned crates facing each other with a sack of potatoes and a bucket for peelings between us, I watched his hands, entranced, not knowing if it was all that interesting or if my life was so boring at times that even potato peeling was appealing in my depraved mind. Silver caught me staring, stopping what he was doing and looking across the bucket to my own hands. The potato in my hand was shoddy work in the midst of my daydreaming. He looked at me questioningly, but I was the first to speak, not wanting to be toyed with or reprimanded.

“Ignore me,” I said, resuming my task and he his.

The minutes passed by and I found myself distracted again when I nicked my finger carelessly. A hiss escaped my lips unfortunately loud enough to alert Silver of my stupidity. I covered the cut with my thumb trying to conceal my mistake.

“None of that now,” he said gruffly, pulling my thumb away to reveal the small gash that was quickly spilling.

“I’m fine,” I assured him.

“I know that; just don’t want you hiding anything from me,” he confided.

Using my teeth to pull it tight, I wrapped a shred of cloth around my finger before he could fuss anymore over me. I was quite proficient in caring for my own cuts and scrapes by now. Though he did return to the potatoes, almost finished by now, he did watch over me as the years of being a ship’s cook had allowed him the utility of not always having to watch his own hands.

I plunked back down across from Silver and made sure I caught his gaze before speaking.

“Anything?”

He looked confused.

“You don’t want me hiding anything?” I asked, the anger building in my voice. “You mean that?”

My expression softened as he put down his tools and sighed loudly, painfully.

“Aye, Gem,” he whispered,” but I gets the feeling you want it to go both ways. Am I right?”

Staring at him, my mind wandering, racing, my words wanting to conflict and be indirect, I slowly nodded in agreement.

Silently my lips formed the words, "Both ways."

“Ya see,” he finally spoke,” I can’t do that. I have no right to ask it of you.”

“What if I was honest anyway? Maybe you would be more inclined to tell me then someday.”

He thought for a minute.

“I suppose.”

The potatoes were now done and we carried the bucket over to the counter to cut them and fry them up.

“Well, you probably already know this, but I like you quite a lot,” I said quickly.

“No, I didn’t know that,” he shrugged.

“How could you not?” I asked without thinking.

He dropped what he was doing and turned to me.

“This whole time I thought I was the one losing my mind… turns out you’re just as crazy, maybe even more so," he said.

"I like it that way.”

My heart raced and all I could focus on again shyly was his hands, strong and productive. He noticed.

“Chores are stacking up,” he reminded me. “So why don’t you and I skip lunch today and do something else instead?”

I looked up to him, trying to read his expression, not understanding what he was asking or implying.

“Okay,” I agreed innocently.

We worked silently except for Silver’s occasional sung, whistled, or hummed song. Lunch was served without a hitch and Silver went to his bedroom door waving me over, following me in, and locking the door behind us.

“What little time you have for yer chores, ya spend lookin’ at my hands…” he commented, lifting my chin up with his finger as he spoke. “Now… what be all that about?”

His intense gaze made me instinctively wrap my arms around my midsection in fear of his proximity. I knew he had noticed my gawking, but I didn’t think he thought much of it. Apparently, I was wrong.

“You like them, don’t you?” he asked, bringing his hands down to my shoulders and squeezing them, releasing some of the tension that had been building up in my body.

“Lay down on the bed.”

I did as he said, too afraid to ask. What had I done? The bed pushed down from the sides of my body as he straddled me and grabbed my shoulders again so hard I squeaked.

“Sorry, Lass,” he apologized, lightening his grip. “Ya must be tight from all the work or be there something else that Ol’ Long John should know?”

I reveled in his fingers pushing between my muscles and pulling them outwards, stretching my back and lengthening my spine. He grabbed the base of my skull and my body tingled in a wave of delight. As if I were standing under a waterfall, he trickled his fingertips gently down me. I felt like sleeping when he rested more of his weight on me, pushing me into his soft bed, his presence overwhelming and entracing all my senses.

“I think that you should know that if someone knocks on that door, I am not going to answer it,” I said with a chuckle, my words muffled by the thin sheets.

I would've laid there all afternoon if I could’ve, but sooner than I wanted Silver tousled my hair, which I admit woke me up from my light nap. As he lifted his comforting, securing weight off of me I wanted to beg him to stay. He got up and took a drink of rum from the side table.

“Thank you,” I said sleepily, “but what about you?”

“It would be futile, lass. You’d be like a mouse trying to make off with a potato,” he laughed.

He had an odd sense of humor to be sure, but I loved his barely-sensical, far-reaching jests. I rolled over on my back and sprawled out on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The bed sagged as Silver sat on the side of it.

"Now, will ya be able ta’ focus on yer chores?” he asked with a sigh.

“No, but I’ll try,” I replied, picking up his hand and placing it on my stomach.

His fingers stretched out over my mid-section and nearly spanned it. Any weight from him pressing down on me was welcome. It calmed me in such a specific way. He started to drag his hand down to my thigh, but I brought his hard up to my lips and kissed the back of it, then closer to his finger, sliding my lips across his skin, closer, closer, until I reached the tip of it, which I pressed against and slid into my mouth. He watched me in awe and when I had made a great show of it he patted me on the head.

“Good pup,” he said.