Flying Dutchman Captain Novels & Stories

The sheer raw attraction between us was a living, breathing thing in the room, tight and intoxicating. The heavy oak door of the study clicked open. Coach Jimenez strode into the penthouse study, his stocky, solid frame moving with the impatient energy of a man who hated wasting time. He was wearing his usual blue team tracksuit, a whistle hanging around his thick neck, and his battered leather clipboard tucked under his arm. His grey, thinning hair was combed over without a shred of shame, and his sharp blue eyes swept across the room, taking in the three captains before fixing on me. His thick mustache twitched above a permanent scowl.

"Well, well. Look who decided to show up," Derek sneered, leaning back against his locker with his arms crossed over his chest. He was our starting left wing, a guy with more money than sense and a mouth that never knew when to stop, and he was looking at me with a cruel, ugly smirk. "I was starting to think you'd be too sore to walk today, Vane. Tell me, when the captain's bending you over the training table, does he give you extra ice time, or do you just drop to your knees for the thrill of it?"

his voice a low drawl, powerful enough to falter a soul. My lips felt dry, and I could feel trickles of sweat rolling down my spine. I didn’t feel brave anymore, not when I could feel the heated gaze at the back of my head. My eyes found Zale, his lips slowly turning pale, I could tell Knox was squeezing too hard. “Let him go,” I said, my voice softer. Stupider. He didn’t move, “and if I don’t?” he was taunting. I mean he should, what was I going to do against him? He was the captain of the hockey team, his name a legacy in these walls.

I couldn't get the image of me screaming under him, cumming like an idiot and even begging him to fuck me harder out of my mind. I scrubbed my neck until the skin was raw, desperate to wash away the scent of him, that mix of expensive cologne and the lust in his eyes. I leaned my forehead against the tile, letting the water pelt my back. I was Elias Carter, the captain of the Northwood Titans. My life was built on discipline, morning drills, and a reputation for being untouchable. Yesterday, I was all those things before I lost to Ryder. "Get it together," I hissed at my reflection in the fogged-up mirror. My lower lip was slightly swollen, a visible mark of my shame. I looked at the "C" on

“Ladies and gentlemen, good afternoon. Welcome on board. This is Captain Revamonte speaking.” I was stopped from my track, my hands were still in the compartment. I felt cold. “Yanna, faster,” Kyla whispered when she noticed I was not moving. “Who's our Captain?” I ask, my voice stuttered. “If I am not mistaken, it was Captain Revamonte, right?” Kyla was giggling upon mentioning the Pilot’s name. Revamonte. There are a lot of Revamonte, for sure! He’s not the only one. There are even a lot of Suarez Surnames, so I’m sure he’s not the only Revamonte, right?

Of course I had to be sure the goods were complete and I got the right product. “Spider, Sniper. Come with me”. I beckoned them to follow me while Dragon controlled the other men. We boarded the ship easily tracing through the cabinets and compartments until we got the captain. A shiny headed Italian man, he was neatly dressed in his sailor uniform and cap. A quick smile spread through his lip as he saw me approach him. “Ha! Captain, I greeted first. “You don’t need all these my friend”. He said pointing at my men with his eyes. “Oh! The guns you mean? These are my men and I need to have them around”. I replied sharply, taking a last drag of cigar before letting off the short tail into the w

They’d spent most of the day on the water, making steady progress to-ward home. “What’s up, bird?” Duchess belted a familiar tune about blue skies shining. The perfectly pitched melody had David’s lips twitching. It hadn’t taken long for the bird to grow on him. Despite David’s pleas to fly away, the parrot had yet to find other suitable accommodations and appeared to be sticking with them for the foreseeable future. So there David sat in the captain’s chair, arm draped over the steering wheel, with a fitness-obsessed bird as his copilot.

The man turned, irritation flashing across his face until recognition replaced it. “Well I’ll be damned,” the captain muttered. “If it isn’t the street rat.” Sachin grinned. “Still breathing, I see.” The captain’s eyes shifted to Elaina and Drake. “And who are these?” “Friends,” Sachin replied evenly. “They need passage... a quiet passage.” The captain crossed his arms. “You know that requires quiet costs.” “I know,” Sachin said. “But you owe me.” The captain’s brows lifted. “Do I?”

"Whether I like them or not. Whether they're useful to me or not. When they fail, I fail. That's what a captain is." It was a real answer. Not a deflection, not a power play. A real thing he believed. I didn't know what to do with that. "Go to sleep, Valdez," he said, picking up his marker. "You've got two goals and a bruised shoulder. Both of those things have consequences for tomorrow."

"Damn! What's wrong with the Smith Group? How come they hired such a captain?" "As long as this woman pressed a button, more than one hundred and fifty people would suffer a poor death." Someone cursed, "Thank god the flight landed in security. Have you heard about the air crash in 1994?" "A captain working in Russian Airlines took his son into the cockpit, but the plane went out of control and crashed into the mountain. The seventy-five passengers all died!" Jessica tidied the bag belt and wedged herself outside the crowd in calmness. She was also pissed off by the news. Completely ignoring passengers' lives, that man was unqualified to be a captain! He even failed to hold the moral bottom