[ She is radiant, even more so for the absence (and the constant presence of other filthy men). With a smirk, Charles reaches out to take her by the waist and lift her up, just to set her down lightly. ]
But that's not what I meant.
[ He doesn't let go of her, and he won't, now that he's touching her again. So much in him wants to wrench her forward and kiss the air out of her lungs, and he's not going to wait to get her back to shore, he's going to carry her belowdecks to the captain's cabin and see if they can't ruin the bed together. There are times he's craved her so badly that he's given serious thought to fucking her right out in the open, on the decks of his ship or on the very beach she prowls to wait for him. But she's still a queen, after all. ]
[She doesn't. She takes a breath, and moves to her tiptoes, her hands on his forearms. They play this formal game, even though they're king and queen of places with almost no formalities, except that they're absolute, that they don't get challenged, because challengers die.
But she presses close to him, so her mouth is up near his ear.]
I missed you. The last two weeks I couldn't go a night without pressing my nose to your shirts and pretending you were right there with me.
I missed you, Charles. Every moment. Did the sea love you as well as I did?
[ That's all he wanted to hear. It's worth the silly little game just to hear her admit out loud that she thought about him so well while he was gone. ]
Of course not. Nothing ever does.
[ Speaking of no formalities - he proceeds to grab her by the legs and toss her bodily over one shoulder, because she may be the queen and he may be the king but they are wild things nonetheless. He hasn't even kissed her yet. If he does that here, then he really will fuck her on the desk.
Assuming she lets him, of course, he's going to carry her straight to his quarters, setting her on her feet only when the door slams behind them. That's when he pulls her sharply into his arms and claims her mouth in a ravenous kiss. ]
[She squeals, but she's not fighting. Everyone around them - anyone who looks over and see their captain carrying off his woman - knows that she can fight back if she wants to, and they know that she doesn't want to.
His quarters are the usual mess, and she doesn't care, she's not paying attention. The door closes and she's responding just as her feet touch the ground and her hands are in his hair, tugging down at the same time he's pulling her up. He's kissing her like she she's air and he's drowning, and she responds with the same intense need, tugging him back as she tries to find the mess of blankets and the thin mattress he calls a bed when he's at sea.]
I missed you-
[She says it as she pulls.]
Three fingers isn't enough. Those pretty jade cocks you brought back from the east aren't enough. I know, I tried.
[She threw things, went into a rage, stormed a mountain down, practically.]
[ His kisses are savage with the need built by months apart, months without being able to kiss her lips or caress her breasts or stuff her full of his cock every time he thought of it. Sometimes he can be romantic, tease her a little first, worship her body the way it really deserves. But not at a time like this. ]
Nothing is as warm and soft as your cunt.
[ He all but throws her down to the bed, immediately crushing her with another hungry kiss, pressing her into the bearskins he'd stolen from a treasure galleon some voyages back. He leans back only to throw his jacket off and toss his shirt aside before he dives back in, his mouth on the exposed skin of her chest while his hands shove her skirts up her legs. ]
I missed you, Daphne.
[ Charles groans it to her throat, before he lifts his head and kisses her again. His cock aches already from how much he wants her. ]
[They are the height of romance, roughly three fucks in; their first time together after months at sea is always like this, thoughtless and lust-filled, like they have to slam into one another to remember their bodies again.
She is slithering out of her choli, or trying to - she keeps getting distracted by his mouth and his hands and the new calluses on his fingers and the kisses that feel as sharp as lightning.
He says I missed you and it makes a part of her heart throb a little more. People see Charles - not her people, not anymore, but his reputation - and they think he is everything a wild man can be, and that includes faithless. But there is this part of him, this tender part that he keeps private and hidden that she discovered and now it's hers. It's the part of him that wants everything he was denied as a child, the comforts of home and family, and those words - I missed you - are coming right from that part.
She brings her hands up to frame his face, just for a moment, and pulls him for another kiss, this one just a touch more tender. Just a single brief moment, before she pushes him up a little so that she can toss her choli away and she's topless, and one hand moves to press his mouth down to one of her tits.]
[ The world he comes from treats sex like currency, something to be traded and bartered with, rarely exclusive by nature. But he's always preferred to focus his attention on one woman who deserves it, even to the exclusion of whores and certainly anything else; if he'd crossed paths with Daphne sooner, maybe he'd be known as a loyal man.
Not that it matters. She knows he's not settling for anyone else, not even to pass the time. They'd fall short of her and leave him wanting, and then he'd be worse off than before.
He growls as she drags him down but doesn't resist at all, immediately sucking a taut nipple into his mouth and sucking, working his mouth over her tits like he's trying to taste as much of them as he can at once. One hand slides under her back to make her arch toward his mouth, but he doesn't stop pushing her billowing, beautiful skirts up her lovely legs until his hand reaches her pussy, completely bare for him underneath a ghagra as blue as Caribbean Sea.
No siren at sea could ever compare to this.
Charles can't resist the chance to stroke her with his fingers, just once, pinching her clit between them and catching the heat coming from inside her in his palm. But then his hand is gone, opening the front of his pants to release the bulge of his dick, and then he presses her down into the bundle of blankets and furs with his hips between her thighs and his cock stuffing her full, making him growl around his mouthful of her breast, fingers digging greedily into her body. ]
[She starts to make these noises, tiny and desperate, as he touches her, as his mouth is on her and his fingers are catching her clit and she feels like he's setting her on fire, aflame. She's gone desperate for him, drunk for him. She tips her back up to get more of his mouth on her, but then he's fucking into her and the noises aren't tiny anymore.
Her wail is loud, shameless, because why would she be ashamed of how good this feels, when he presses his fat cock into her and she has to raise her legs up over his hips, to pull him closer. Her hands are in his hair, tangling there, tugging him up to catch his mouth again, and this time she bites a little and works her own kisses down against his jaw.
Another thrust has her cry out again, and even as she's meeting every movement of his hips, long and rough, she's playing with the breast he just mauled and reveling in the feeling of it with one hand and pressing their noses together, her other hand still in his hair.
Her gasps are starting to turn into his name, soft against her lips as she repeats it like a prayer.]
[ He kisses her, fucking her, moaning his pure want into her mouth until they absolutely have to breathe, even though he wants to breathe in the sounds she's making, devour them so that he's the only one who ever gets to hear them.
Fortunately, his men and her kin know to give them a wide berth in moments like these. They've been left alone on board the ship for their wild reunions before, because there's no danger to the ship in the bay - and even if there were, it would be suicide for anyone to try and separate the king and queen at a time like this.
The hard roll of his hips lifts hers from the bed, stuffing his cock deep into her as he buries his own hand in her hair and keeps it there, as if she's making absolutely any effort to get away from him, as if either one of them can do more than moan and snarl for each other now. It's the other hand that can't stop moving: gripping her thigh, grabbing her ass to drag her harder into his thrusts, sliding up her back to arch her toward him again.
For a moment, his attention is drawn to the sight of her touching herself, her fingers paying no mind at all to the faint teeth marks on her tits, and he's intoxicated all over again, his eyes rolling back in his fucking head. Charles just buries his face into her throat for a hungry taste of her pulse, fucking her hard enough to make the bed jerk on its solid wooden frame. ]
Charles, please, I'm not going to last long, please-
[She whispers it as if she's asking him to spare her, as if she's begging for her life. In a way, she is, desperate for the intensity of him. Their first meeting after months apart never lasts long, and neither of them care, it doesn't matter. They'll come apart and then lie together for a little while, talk about things, and then he'll turn her over and take her again, more leisurely, and the cycle will start over until they can finally function in front of others without trying to tear each other's clothes off.
She pushes back against him, refusing to move far, and soon her hips are giving tiny abortive movements that signal is really is close, her body tightening against him.]
[ It's the way her cunt throbs around his cock that makes him snarl and nearly buckles him on top of her, still fucking her like a knife to the ribs wouldn't stop him.
This ritual is a part of him now. He would never think to change it, and possibly couldn't now, not looking forward to it the way he does whenever he's long at sea. Sometimes it's on her turf instead of his, but it's never far from where the two meet. They simply don't last that long.
Neither one of them is going to last long now. Charles can feel himself getting close to the same edge, but he's determined to send her over it first, so that he can come with the spasms of her pussy milking his cock. So his only answer is the hand in her hair that pulls her head roughly back, giving him space to sink his teeth into her throat at the curve of her neck to her shoulder.
Because he may not be a tiger himself, but he can still mark his territory. ]
Her whole body, it seems, lights up on that one single spot, and she arches at the same time her legs pull him closer. The noise that comes out of her is feral and wild, half a roar and half a scream, her hands scrabbling down his biceps and leaving behind thin, ragged scratches. Her cunt tightens, again, and her orgasm carries her, making her curl up a bit against him.
She doesn't want him to let go of her throat yet. Her healing will mean that by the time they go back to shore the mark will be gone, but it'll last as long as they are in this room together, and she wants to relish in both the pain and in the pleasure of knowing she's his, his, his.
[ The claws down his arms make him snarl, and worry her tender flesh in his teeth, knowing full well that he can't easily hurt her but still holding himself back just from breaking skin nonetheless, because his aren't as sharp as hers, wouldn't manage as cleanly.
He just wants to mark her, even for the briefest moment, and send that mark shooting through her belly to her cunt; he wants her to know what it is, and know he did it to her, before they go back to her people in the mouth of the jungle and she rises beyond any claim all over again.
Charles groans, feral, as the quaking of her pussy massages his cock, and he keeps thrusting, harder and heavier, pulling her closer even as she twists around him - and before the last of her tremors has passed, he buries his cock inside her and comes, fingers raking in her hair, moaning into her throat.
He still can't breathe, but he finds her mouth and kisses her anyway, biting the soft flush of her lips. ]
[She mewls a little as they kiss, and doesn't let him pull away. Instead she holds him to keep him right there, tucked inside of her, and takes deep breaths.]
I'm going to look you over for new scars.
[She says, finally, as she runs a hand through his hair. There are places it catches but she doesn't seem to care, nosing against the skin of his jaw, kissing along that line.]
Swear vengeance on anyone who hurt you.
[She's teasing a little, because there's no need for that. He's more than capable, and he hardly cares if he gets hurt.
But she loves him. She wants him to know it, that she would, that she would hurt anyone who hurt him, truly.]
[ He slowly relaxes over her, with a luxurious stretch that only nestles his cock more snugly inside her; the fingers he has in her hair loosen slowly and pull through. ]
They surrendered. The captain who gave us those beads, and his crew. Begged me not to feed them to the tigers.
[ Does he sound disappointed? It might be hard to tell, but he is. More than a little. While it's still true that no man is rich who could have more by doing less, it's also true that he gets bored of that kind of thing very quickly. ]
I obliged, because I thought you'd like the gift. Spared his crew, I mean. Him I gutted and tossed overboard for assuming I'd be so easy to bribe.
[ Let them take that fucking story home with them. ]
[She says it with an easy smile, her fingers moving across his arms. He's still mostly dressed, but she doesn't want to pull away to get his clothes off. It was only because his shirt was sleeveless that she could rend skin and not fabric.
Her eyes are bright as she looks at his face.]
How disappointed are you? That they struck up a white flag before you even got to start a fight?
[Her fingers are working their way up to his face, idle and easy, tracing old scars and lines, like she's trying to make sure he still is hers, like he still looks the same. He does, but there is still a certain measure of care.]
Everything here was boring. The rains came and went. It was quiet.
I keep waiting for the day I see the sails over the horizon and it's a ghost from your past come to find you.
[ He left all of Nassau behind - if the past comes for him now, it'll be to drag him back to the gallows or simply sink his ship underneath him. Charles still can't believe he's lived this long, or that he now has someone willing to wait for him while he's at sea, who will great him when he returns. Death has never frightened him. Loss frightens him more.
He has more to lose now. But he also has more means to protect it.
With a deep sigh, Charles wraps his hand around her thigh and rolls them both, putting Daphne on top of him so that he can look up at her face, blue fabric pooling below her waist and over his lap. He runs both hands up her sides to mold her breasts, running his thumb over the teeth marks on one tit. ]
They won't all be cowards like the last captain. I'll get my fight, one way or the other. But now I have a choice: to pursue and escalate, or withdraw, and enjoy this bubble before it bursts.
Your old shipmates. Someone who wants money. Your reputation is spreading.
[She puts her hands on his chest. Nassau is half a world away, but men sail for longer than that for treasure. They came in a journey that almost drove her insane, but it’s what settled them. It’s what bound them together forever.
She watches his fingers, and catches them, brings them to her mouth, kisses his palm and then settles it back over her breast. There’s that curious feeling of her nipple against his palm, and it makes her purr a bit.]
There was a hunting party that came from the Portuguese. They knew your name.
[Daphne is always hard to get information out of; the habit of secrecy is hard to break.]
They tried to set up camp a few miles from the outpost. One of the teenagers went and talked to them, they said they knew you were here.
[The teenagers are her cousins, or cousins of cousins, kin one way or another. A small delinquent unit, they practically worship the ground Charles walks on.
Its not necessarily bad that the Portuguese know he’s there; his reputation is important, but the Portuguese have never talked about Charles Vane before.]
Edited (Forgive me I will stop editing everything eventually ) 2022-03-03 19:43 (UTC)
[ That is interesting. It thrills him, right into that primal part that drew him to her and vice versa; but the part of him that's grown accustomed to returning to his queen's waiting arms is strong enough now to tense at this knowledge.
One hunting party is nothing the Khan can't handle. But one hunting party is usually just the beginning.
Charles plays lovingly with her breasts, kneading his fingertips down to each taut nipple before his palms roll over them again. ]
What are they hunting? [ Couldn't be tigers. No one would be stupid enough to brave his waters to hunt tigers in her jungle - although if they have, then he's got nothing to worry about. Daphne and her people will strip them down to blood and bones. ]
[She says it as she enjoys - really enjoys - the touch of his hands on her breasts. It's so funny, how much she missed this, the touch of his skin, the way he savors hers. A rumble starts at the base of her throat, and she leans into that touch.]
The boys didn't say. Big game, for certain. They brought muskets; they had an elephant.
[She reaches for one of his hands again.]
If they know your name, then the English do too. And they know you're here.
[Traders and merchant vessels are one thing; the governments are another.
[ He tangles his fingers with hers, so that he's guiding them both to fondle her breast, his grip firming up when she says that. It makes his cock twitch inside her. ]
We knew it was only a matter of time.
[ There was no way he could have gone back to raiding the high seas, even in a different part of the world, without word traveling sooner or later. The East India Trading Company itself has felt his authority over these waters in recent months. Granted... it's the tigers that have made him nearly untouchable.
Charles leans up to draw one of her nipples into his mouth for a suckling bite, teasing with his tongue, before he sinks back again to see her face. ]
Do you think I'm becoming too bold, with your people at my side?
[She says it with a groan, and an arch of her back, and it’s the truth. He is bold, bolder than most, but the idea of holding him back is repellant. It feels like she did, back when she was caged, when he found her, drugged on some hunter drug and unable to shift. She won’t keep him from the sea and she won’t tame him.
She shakes her head, and starts to rock a bit. Her body is lithe over his.]
No, you won’t get caught. You love my cunt too much to let another man have it if you die.
[She bares her teeth in a smile; she looks savage.]
[ With a low growl, Charles pushes himself up again for another taste of her, sucking her tits one after the other as his cock fills out inside her. When he lets go this time, he doesn't drop back. ]
That's fucking right.
[ No one else gets to fuck her but him. No one gets to feel her come but him. And if he has to drag himself across this earth to his last breath to defend this treasure as his own, he'll damn well do so.
He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her down against his chest, flexing his hips into a slow roll beneath her. She moves like something elemental. ]
I'll take my men, chase them out of your territory. [ It's offered in earnest, but there's the unspoken concession within it that she calls the shots once their feet touch the shore, and if she wants him to leave these trespassers alone, he will. ] Send one of your cousins as a guide, to lead them into a trap.
[This is how they are; wrapped up in each other, enamored with each other, unable to pull away. She puts her arms around his shoulders to keep him close, and nods a little.]
Why take my cousin when you can take me?
[She knows he loves to watch her hunt; is familiar with her shape and her patterns, can always tell her apart from any other of her kin or even the occasional wild tiger they see. There are plenty of those in her jungle, too.]
Leave one or two alive to go back and tell them that they have to stay away-
[She growls, and tugs his head up by the hair to kiss him them.]
[ He kisses her back with a growl, and then pulls her into another one as soon as the words are out of her mouth, deepening it immediately. Charles works his hips up again, thrusting slowly to feel his cock sliding in and out of her dripping pussy as his tongue slips into her mouth.
Yes. He'd give anything to watch her hunt these trespassers, on her own turf, in her own tiger skin. Sometimes he still forgets that she's not like every other ruler he's known, preferring to send messengers in their place - either for the sake of intimidation or protection.
Which, to be fair, does make a solid point. ]
What if they aren't here for me?
[ He drags his hands up her back and into her hair, pushing it away from her face, still grinding into her from below. ]
If they did come here to hunt tigers, they might not be easy prey. And they can't have you either, tigress.
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cribellate2022-02-27 11:31 am
no subject
[ She is radiant, even more so for the absence (and the constant presence of other filthy men). With a smirk, Charles reaches out to take her by the waist and lift her up, just to set her down lightly. ]
But that's not what I meant.
[ He doesn't let go of her, and he won't, now that he's touching her again. So much in him wants to wrench her forward and kiss the air out of her lungs, and he's not going to wait to get her back to shore, he's going to carry her belowdecks to the captain's cabin and see if they can't ruin the bed together. There are times he's craved her so badly that he's given serious thought to fucking her right out in the open, on the decks of his ship or on the very beach she prowls to wait for him. But she's still a queen, after all. ]
You still need to tell me that you missed me.
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Maybe I want to hear it first.
[She doesn't. She takes a breath, and moves to her tiptoes, her hands on his forearms. They play this formal game, even though they're king and queen of places with almost no formalities, except that they're absolute, that they don't get challenged, because challengers die.
But she presses close to him, so her mouth is up near his ear.]
I missed you. The last two weeks I couldn't go a night without pressing my nose to your shirts and pretending you were right there with me.
I missed you, Charles. Every moment. Did the sea love you as well as I did?
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Of course not. Nothing ever does.
[ Speaking of no formalities - he proceeds to grab her by the legs and toss her bodily over one shoulder, because she may be the queen and he may be the king but they are wild things nonetheless. He hasn't even kissed her yet. If he does that here, then he really will fuck her on the desk.
Assuming she lets him, of course, he's going to carry her straight to his quarters, setting her on her feet only when the door slams behind them. That's when he pulls her sharply into his arms and claims her mouth in a ravenous kiss. ]
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His quarters are the usual mess, and she doesn't care, she's not paying attention. The door closes and she's responding just as her feet touch the ground and her hands are in his hair, tugging down at the same time he's pulling her up. He's kissing her like she she's air and he's drowning, and she responds with the same intense need, tugging him back as she tries to find the mess of blankets and the thin mattress he calls a bed when he's at sea.]
I missed you-
[She says it as she pulls.]
Three fingers isn't enough. Those pretty jade cocks you brought back from the east aren't enough. I know, I tried.
[She threw things, went into a rage, stormed a mountain down, practically.]
no subject
Nothing is as warm and soft as your cunt.
[ He all but throws her down to the bed, immediately crushing her with another hungry kiss, pressing her into the bearskins he'd stolen from a treasure galleon some voyages back. He leans back only to throw his jacket off and toss his shirt aside before he dives back in, his mouth on the exposed skin of her chest while his hands shove her skirts up her legs. ]
I missed you, Daphne.
[ Charles groans it to her throat, before he lifts his head and kisses her again. His cock aches already from how much he wants her. ]
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She is slithering out of her choli, or trying to - she keeps getting distracted by his mouth and his hands and the new calluses on his fingers and the kisses that feel as sharp as lightning.
He says I missed you and it makes a part of her heart throb a little more. People see Charles - not her people, not anymore, but his reputation - and they think he is everything a wild man can be, and that includes faithless. But there is this part of him, this tender part that he keeps private and hidden that she discovered and now it's hers. It's the part of him that wants everything he was denied as a child, the comforts of home and family, and those words - I missed you - are coming right from that part.
She brings her hands up to frame his face, just for a moment, and pulls him for another kiss, this one just a touch more tender. Just a single brief moment, before she pushes him up a little so that she can toss her choli away and she's topless, and one hand moves to press his mouth down to one of her tits.]
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Not that it matters. She knows he's not settling for anyone else, not even to pass the time. They'd fall short of her and leave him wanting, and then he'd be worse off than before.
He growls as she drags him down but doesn't resist at all, immediately sucking a taut nipple into his mouth and sucking, working his mouth over her tits like he's trying to taste as much of them as he can at once. One hand slides under her back to make her arch toward his mouth, but he doesn't stop pushing her billowing, beautiful skirts up her lovely legs until his hand reaches her pussy, completely bare for him underneath a ghagra as blue as Caribbean Sea.
No siren at sea could ever compare to this.
Charles can't resist the chance to stroke her with his fingers, just once, pinching her clit between them and catching the heat coming from inside her in his palm. But then his hand is gone, opening the front of his pants to release the bulge of his dick, and then he presses her down into the bundle of blankets and furs with his hips between her thighs and his cock stuffing her full, making him growl around his mouthful of her breast, fingers digging greedily into her body. ]
no subject
Her wail is loud, shameless, because why would she be ashamed of how good this feels, when he presses his fat cock into her and she has to raise her legs up over his hips, to pull him closer. Her hands are in his hair, tangling there, tugging him up to catch his mouth again, and this time she bites a little and works her own kisses down against his jaw.
Another thrust has her cry out again, and even as she's meeting every movement of his hips, long and rough, she's playing with the breast he just mauled and reveling in the feeling of it with one hand and pressing their noses together, her other hand still in his hair.
Her gasps are starting to turn into his name, soft against her lips as she repeats it like a prayer.]
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Fortunately, his men and her kin know to give them a wide berth in moments like these. They've been left alone on board the ship for their wild reunions before, because there's no danger to the ship in the bay - and even if there were, it would be suicide for anyone to try and separate the king and queen at a time like this.
The hard roll of his hips lifts hers from the bed, stuffing his cock deep into her as he buries his own hand in her hair and keeps it there, as if she's making absolutely any effort to get away from him, as if either one of them can do more than moan and snarl for each other now. It's the other hand that can't stop moving: gripping her thigh, grabbing her ass to drag her harder into his thrusts, sliding up her back to arch her toward him again.
For a moment, his attention is drawn to the sight of her touching herself, her fingers paying no mind at all to the faint teeth marks on her tits, and he's intoxicated all over again, his eyes rolling back in his fucking head. Charles just buries his face into her throat for a hungry taste of her pulse, fucking her hard enough to make the bed jerk on its solid wooden frame. ]
no subject
Charles, please, I'm not going to last long, please-
[She whispers it as if she's asking him to spare her, as if she's begging for her life. In a way, she is, desperate for the intensity of him. Their first meeting after months apart never lasts long, and neither of them care, it doesn't matter. They'll come apart and then lie together for a little while, talk about things, and then he'll turn her over and take her again, more leisurely, and the cycle will start over until they can finally function in front of others without trying to tear each other's clothes off.
She pushes back against him, refusing to move far, and soon her hips are giving tiny abortive movements that signal is really is close, her body tightening against him.]
no subject
This ritual is a part of him now. He would never think to change it, and possibly couldn't now, not looking forward to it the way he does whenever he's long at sea. Sometimes it's on her turf instead of his, but it's never far from where the two meet. They simply don't last that long.
Neither one of them is going to last long now. Charles can feel himself getting close to the same edge, but he's determined to send her over it first, so that he can come with the spasms of her pussy milking his cock. So his only answer is the hand in her hair that pulls her head roughly back, giving him space to sink his teeth into her throat at the curve of her neck to her shoulder.
Because he may not be a tiger himself, but he can still mark his territory. ]
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Her whole body, it seems, lights up on that one single spot, and she arches at the same time her legs pull him closer. The noise that comes out of her is feral and wild, half a roar and half a scream, her hands scrabbling down his biceps and leaving behind thin, ragged scratches. Her cunt tightens, again, and her orgasm carries her, making her curl up a bit against him.
She doesn't want him to let go of her throat yet. Her healing will mean that by the time they go back to shore the mark will be gone, but it'll last as long as they are in this room together, and she wants to relish in both the pain and in the pleasure of knowing she's his, his, his.
He's hers, too.]
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He just wants to mark her, even for the briefest moment, and send that mark shooting through her belly to her cunt; he wants her to know what it is, and know he did it to her, before they go back to her people in the mouth of the jungle and she rises beyond any claim all over again.
Charles groans, feral, as the quaking of her pussy massages his cock, and he keeps thrusting, harder and heavier, pulling her closer even as she twists around him - and before the last of her tremors has passed, he buries his cock inside her and comes, fingers raking in her hair, moaning into her throat.
He still can't breathe, but he finds her mouth and kisses her anyway, biting the soft flush of her lips. ]
no subject
I'm going to look you over for new scars.
[She says, finally, as she runs a hand through his hair. There are places it catches but she doesn't seem to care, nosing against the skin of his jaw, kissing along that line.]
Swear vengeance on anyone who hurt you.
[She's teasing a little, because there's no need for that. He's more than capable, and he hardly cares if he gets hurt.
But she loves him. She wants him to know it, that she would, that she would hurt anyone who hurt him, truly.]
no subject
[ He slowly relaxes over her, with a luxurious stretch that only nestles his cock more snugly inside her; the fingers he has in her hair loosen slowly and pull through. ]
They surrendered. The captain who gave us those beads, and his crew. Begged me not to feed them to the tigers.
[ Does he sound disappointed? It might be hard to tell, but he is. More than a little. While it's still true that no man is rich who could have more by doing less, it's also true that he gets bored of that kind of thing very quickly. ]
I obliged, because I thought you'd like the gift. Spared his crew, I mean. Him I gutted and tossed overboard for assuming I'd be so easy to bribe.
[ Let them take that fucking story home with them. ]
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[She says it with an easy smile, her fingers moving across his arms. He's still mostly dressed, but she doesn't want to pull away to get his clothes off. It was only because his shirt was sleeveless that she could rend skin and not fabric.
Her eyes are bright as she looks at his face.]
How disappointed are you? That they struck up a white flag before you even got to start a fight?
[Her fingers are working their way up to his face, idle and easy, tracing old scars and lines, like she's trying to make sure he still is hers, like he still looks the same. He does, but there is still a certain measure of care.]
Everything here was boring. The rains came and went. It was quiet.
I keep waiting for the day I see the sails over the horizon and it's a ghost from your past come to find you.
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[ He left all of Nassau behind - if the past comes for him now, it'll be to drag him back to the gallows or simply sink his ship underneath him. Charles still can't believe he's lived this long, or that he now has someone willing to wait for him while he's at sea, who will great him when he returns. Death has never frightened him. Loss frightens him more.
He has more to lose now. But he also has more means to protect it.
With a deep sigh, Charles wraps his hand around her thigh and rolls them both, putting Daphne on top of him so that he can look up at her face, blue fabric pooling below her waist and over his lap. He runs both hands up her sides to mold her breasts, running his thumb over the teeth marks on one tit. ]
They won't all be cowards like the last captain. I'll get my fight, one way or the other. But now I have a choice: to pursue and escalate, or withdraw, and enjoy this bubble before it bursts.
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[She puts her hands on his chest. Nassau is half a world away, but men sail for longer than that for treasure. They came in a journey that almost drove her insane, but it’s what settled them. It’s what bound them together forever.
She watches his fingers, and catches them, brings them to her mouth, kisses his palm and then settles it back over her breast. There’s that curious feeling of her nipple against his palm, and it makes her purr a bit.]
There was a hunting party that came from the Portuguese. They knew your name.
[Daphne is always hard to get information out of; the habit of secrecy is hard to break.]
They tried to set up camp a few miles from the outpost. One of the teenagers went and talked to them, they said they knew you were here.
[The teenagers are her cousins, or cousins of cousins, kin one way or another. A small delinquent unit, they practically worship the ground Charles walks on.
Its not necessarily bad that the Portuguese know he’s there; his reputation is important, but the Portuguese have never talked about Charles Vane before.]
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[ That is interesting. It thrills him, right into that primal part that drew him to her and vice versa; but the part of him that's grown accustomed to returning to his queen's waiting arms is strong enough now to tense at this knowledge.
One hunting party is nothing the Khan can't handle. But one hunting party is usually just the beginning.
Charles plays lovingly with her breasts, kneading his fingertips down to each taut nipple before his palms roll over them again. ]
What are they hunting? [ Couldn't be tigers. No one would be stupid enough to brave his waters to hunt tigers in her jungle - although if they have, then he's got nothing to worry about. Daphne and her people will strip them down to blood and bones. ]
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[She says it as she enjoys - really enjoys - the touch of his hands on her breasts. It's so funny, how much she missed this, the touch of his skin, the way he savors hers. A rumble starts at the base of her throat, and she leans into that touch.]
The boys didn't say. Big game, for certain. They brought muskets; they had an elephant.
[She reaches for one of his hands again.]
If they know your name, then the English do too. And they know you're here.
[Traders and merchant vessels are one thing; the governments are another.
But she doesn't sound worried, either.]
Keep doing that and you'll get me going again.
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We knew it was only a matter of time.
[ There was no way he could have gone back to raiding the high seas, even in a different part of the world, without word traveling sooner or later. The East India Trading Company itself has felt his authority over these waters in recent months. Granted... it's the tigers that have made him nearly untouchable.
Charles leans up to draw one of her nipples into his mouth for a suckling bite, teasing with his tongue, before he sinks back again to see her face. ]
Do you think I'm becoming too bold, with your people at my side?
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[She says it with a groan, and an arch of her back, and it’s the truth. He is bold, bolder than most, but the idea of holding him back is repellant. It feels like she did, back when she was caged, when he found her, drugged on some hunter drug and unable to shift. She won’t keep him from the sea and she won’t tame him.
She shakes her head, and starts to rock a bit. Her body is lithe over his.]
No, you won’t get caught. You love my cunt too much to let another man have it if you die.
[She bares her teeth in a smile; she looks savage.]
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That's fucking right.
[ No one else gets to fuck her but him. No one gets to feel her come but him. And if he has to drag himself across this earth to his last breath to defend this treasure as his own, he'll damn well do so.
He wraps his arms around her waist and pulls her down against his chest, flexing his hips into a slow roll beneath her. She moves like something elemental. ]
I'll take my men, chase them out of your territory. [ It's offered in earnest, but there's the unspoken concession within it that she calls the shots once their feet touch the shore, and if she wants him to leave these trespassers alone, he will. ] Send one of your cousins as a guide, to lead them into a trap.
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Why take my cousin when you can take me?
[She knows he loves to watch her hunt; is familiar with her shape and her patterns, can always tell her apart from any other of her kin or even the occasional wild tiger they see. There are plenty of those in her jungle, too.]
Leave one or two alive to go back and tell them that they have to stay away-
[She growls, and tugs his head up by the hair to kiss him them.]
-they can't have you.
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Yes. He'd give anything to watch her hunt these trespassers, on her own turf, in her own tiger skin. Sometimes he still forgets that she's not like every other ruler he's known, preferring to send messengers in their place - either for the sake of intimidation or protection.
Which, to be fair, does make a solid point. ]
What if they aren't here for me?
[ He drags his hands up her back and into her hair, pushing it away from her face, still grinding into her from below. ]
If they did come here to hunt tigers, they might not be easy prey. And they can't have you either, tigress.
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