[She dips her head so he can't see her smile, and comes over to straddle his thighs, and runs her hands down his back.]
You clearly haven't had anyone touch you in weeks.
[She says it softly, and her hands move up his back, and a moment later, she finds the tension against his spine, and begins to press her fingers into those spots, digs her fingers into muscle and starts working those spots she knows are tight.]
Where I'm from, a doctor might do this for a ruler. Once, or twice a week.
[ His initial answer to that statement is just a low, extremely heady groan; his eyes are already shut, and good lord that feels so fucking good. Why doesn't he have the whores do this more often?
Well, because usually he likes to fuck first, relax second. That's why. ]
Sounds like fucking luxury.
[ She's never told him where she's from, exactly, despite the numerous times he's pressed her with idle curiosity. Over time, she's told him more and more about the place, but never what or where it is, and it doesn't sound like any place he's ever been. The curiosity has never faded. ]
[She keeps pressing her fingers into his back, knowing that a proper lady here would never do this. Eleanor Guthrie would never do this. A whore might, if she were paid. Daphne learned to do this from one of the doctors at home, before she was a queen, when she was still just a girl. Before she ever shifted.
She finds those sweet pressure points right at the base of his skull and digs her thumbs there.]
It's too far. You would go, and you would have to stay. You wouldn't want to leave Nassau for that long.
[ He groans again, quieter this time, but it goes long as her fingers press into the back of his neck. ]
I'm not afraid of a long voyage.
[ The fortress won't be forever. When Eleanor finally comes around to their proper partnership, he'll be able to leave the island in her hands and come back to take his place beside her. He could find himself a new ship and sail across the seas to the distant land that Daphne came from.
His voice comes out guttural, as every limb slowly goes loose and limp. ]
[She rocks her hands into his muscle, moving in silence for a time, up his arms, down his back, using that strength of her hands to break apart the tension. There are places she can tell that he's probably used to being sore, and she works there for a long moment.]
My home is in the base of a jungle, against a series of mountains. It's been independent for centuries, a small kingdom, wedged between the sea a river so wide that one of your ships could navigate it. There are legends about us. They say that the jungle was where the first tigers came from.
[She keeps pressing.]
It is wilder than here. Less civilized. But richer. The jungle is thicker, the ocean is more savage. We kept the English and the Portuguese at bay.
[She almost never talks about India; she almost never talks about this. She misses home.]
The sky is bluer there, I think. Maybe it's always bluer, when you think of home.
[ It sounds like a fucking paradise. Maybe that's just the state of mind he's slipping into, with every muscle in his body turning to warm jelly, but he's never wanted to go there more than he does now, listening to her talk about it.
Nassau isn't the only place for wild things.
His eyes have opened. He only realizes it when she moves just enough to let him see her from the corner of his eye. ]
[The tension is practically oozing out of him, and she keeps going, wanting to press her nose against the nape of his neck, to catch the smell of him where it’s thickest and keep it in her nose. This is insane.
She rocks her fingers into his skin.]
I do miss it. The food, the spices. The way the ocean smelled. My house. Nassau, at least, is better than some cold European shore.
We used to hunt elephants. They’re bigger than a house. Enormous creatures, with tusks, and a long nose they use to eat, and drink. One can smash a man flat. My cousin found a baby elephant once and raised it, and even as a baby it was as large as a horse.
If you took me home, I would show you everything. Where the water of the river runs over with rubies, in the height of the rainy season. Pink and yellow ones. We polish them and sell them to the Mughals, sometimes. The ones we don’t keep.
[She rocks her entire body forward a bit, to put her weight into this.]
[ Absolutely fucking not. He feels so fucking good, and he hasn't felt this good in weeks. Somewhere Eleanor is fuming, and Jack and Anne are cowering together, and Flint is preparing in whatever fashion to make Vane's life miserable, but here and now it's just him and Daphne, and Daphne's hands feel incredible. So does the weight of her body. So does he, with baby elephants and diamond rivers filling up his head.
Pressing into the furs, he turns underneath her, catching her leg before she tries to get up off of him. As soon as he's on his back instead, he pulls her down again, still straddling his thighs. Now he's watching her, and he finds one of her hands and draws it back to his body. ]
[He’s looking at her now, and somehow it makes her bolder. She runs her hands right down the line of his collarbone and finds where the muscle is tense right at the line of his pecs, and starts to press there, working out the knot.]
My house has been there for almost a thousand years. It houses my entire family, and is made of stone, but it always feels cool.
[She presses the same spot on the opposite pec, watching her hands even as she knows he’s watching her.]
You can see the water from my room. Not like here. There is land, and a town, between us, but you can see ocean. You can see the sun set right into the water.
[ Vane doesn't stop watching her. It feels incredibly fucking good to have her hands on him like this, and the spell she's weaving with all this talk of her home is all the more powerful because she's straddling his thighs and running her fingers all over his chest while she does it.
He knows she wants him. He's wanted her since he first saw her, but there were reasons not to pursue her that way... mostly related to Eleanor. But Eleanor turned her back on him, and until she makes amends for that, Vane figures she doesn't get to have a say in what he does with his time. Or who, for that matter.
So when her careful touch and her talk of cool stone and ocean sunsets start to make him hard, he doesn't hide it, and he doesn't take his eyes off of her either. ]
It's not that she doesn't think he's lying to her. But Nassau is his, and Nassau will swallow him, as sure and as potent as anything. She knows what rulership does better than anyone. She would have never left, but by force. She knows what power does.
He doesn't. Not yet. He will.
She smiles, and it's almost gentle. It's just as feral.]
You already have my loyalty, Captain Vane. Are you trying to buy me?
[She moves just a little. There are layers of fabric between his cock and her, but she knows he's hard. She also knows that a massage, a beautiful woman, power-
-all of these things can make a man hard.]
Captain. Do you want me, or should I go and find you a whore?
[ A massage, a beautiful woman, and power. All of these things can absolutely make a man hard, and he's got all three, right in this moment.
He sits up slowly, holding her gaze with naked want in his own, and slides his arms around her waist. Not so fast or so tight as to imply that he's going to exert his will over hers, but deliberately unmistakeable.
He pulls her hips forward, letting the hard bulge of his cock press more firmly between her legs. ]
[Her eyes are dark with desire, and she wants him enough that the young girl in her, the one who was all hormones and wildness, almost screams at her for not just taking this chance.
But the older creature, the political one, the one who is guarding her heart and her pockets is in charge.]
I am preferable to any whore, it’s true.
[She’s a jewel and she knows it; not because she doesn’t sell herself (because god knows that doesn’t factor into this, and she knows he doesn’t care) but because she is the rarest prize on this island. He may not know it, but she does.
Still.]
I’m asking if you would have any woman on your lap now, or if it’s me.
[Because she will leave, if she thinks it’s simply a matter of function that needs to be fulfilled.
Still, she doesn’t pull away. She rocks against him, pressing down on his cock.]
[ Immediately, he groans, and his cock twitches against her through the layers of fabric. Vane runs his hands up her back, fingers spreading to touch as much of her as possible.
She is a jewel, and she always has been. He's simply had to imagine her as unattainable. In a way, she still is, because sex itself isn't a commitment, from one side or the other. They can fuck because it's fun and they feel like it - and because it would probably piss off Eleanor, something he suspects she'd enjoy as much as he would right now.
His gaze drops, finally, to her mouth, and stays there. ]
[Thats the right answer. Daphne smiles, and leans in.]
Let go. I want to give you something.
[She moves smoothly off him, when he does.
She knows enough about Nassau, and these pirates, to know that often sex is a matter of fast transaction, and even when it’s not, it’s often done through layers of clothes and as desperately as possible.
Frankly, it’s too fucking hot for that, and Daphne doesn’t own more than one set of stays, so she’s not getting them filthy or ripped just for sex, even if it is with the only man on this shitrock that she’d let between her legs.
Better, though; she smiles and undoes her dress, her clothes peeling off her one layer at a time, being set aside until she’s naked and just close enough to touch. Even in the dim light, bathed in orange from the sun setting through the window, she has that glow to her. Her nipples are dark and hard, and there’s a damp sheen at the curls between her legs.]
[ Even though he willingly lets her go, he still growls with reluctance to do it; she's got his number for sure, because he doesn't care if she gets her clothes off first, although now that she's doing it he can see how this was absolutely the preferable option.
Slowly he stands up, keeping his hungry gaze on her, and takes a step closer. One hand reaches out and curls around her waist, pulling her naked body very assertively against his own - and his other hand drops boldly between her legs, fingers caressing her pussy just enough to see how wet she is.
Then he kisses her, and there's nothing gentle about that. This is his victory celebration, and he intends to enjoy it as thoroughly as possible. ]
[He's not the only one growling; her own growl rumbles through their kiss as she spreads her legs a little, lets him feel how hot and wet she is for him as she reaches one hand around his head, tugging his mouth against hers, and the other presses hard agains his ass.
She's already slick, the dampness and the tightness having started when she massaged his back and only growing worse as the time went on. She bites at his mouth, the fine line of his lips, and presses up on her toes to get as close as she can.
But once that kiss is done she's working his pants open and down, over his hips, down as far as she can without pulling away from him. She wants to kiss him again, and so she does, and it's clear he's not the only one possessive here. Every stroke of his hand against her cunt gets her making high-pitched, needy noises, and every time it moves away she growls.]
[ She really is a wild one. He knew it from the moment he saw her, but the extent of it is still being revealed to him in small glimpses sometimes; he wonders if he'll ever know who she truly is, and finds that he wants her just the same either way.
Instead of dragging her onto the bed again, his palm kneading over her cunt goes firm, nearly lifting her, and he backs her up against the table so he can immediately shove her down on top of it. Her empty cup rolls to the floor, and one chair topples over from the force with which he pins her and pulls her legs around his waist. ]
Are you this wet just from touching me?
[ It's barely a murmur, as if he's hardly aware he's even voiced the thought out loud, but the rumble of pure lust in it hints otherwise. ]
-oh, spirits, she can't remember. Before she was taken, for sure, and she still doesn't know how long she was on that ship. She lost track of time. At least nine months, she thinks, and then she's been on Nassau for six, so it's been a time.
She pulls her legs up, hitches them against the small of his back. Her eyes are bright, as she tugs her hips against his hand.]
Yes.
[She says the word like a challenge, her hands going up to his biceps, the low purr of her voice an octave deeper than it usually is. She can't stop looking at him, at his face, at the way he looks at her like he can't quite fathom how he caught a force of nature between his fingers.]
If you had told me to leave I would have ended up snarling my way out of the fort and finding a dark corner to curse your name and use my own hand.
[It's never a good idea to tell a man how much you want him, is what Daphne knows, because men are stupid and think that they'll have power over you. But she doesn't care right now. One hand moves to roll down his chest, to one his nipples, and she runs a short nail over it.]
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cribellate2022-02-27 11:31 am
no subject
You clearly haven't had anyone touch you in weeks.
[She says it softly, and her hands move up his back, and a moment later, she finds the tension against his spine, and begins to press her fingers into those spots, digs her fingers into muscle and starts working those spots she knows are tight.]
Where I'm from, a doctor might do this for a ruler. Once, or twice a week.
no subject
Well, because usually he likes to fuck first, relax second. That's why. ]
Sounds like fucking luxury.
[ She's never told him where she's from, exactly, despite the numerous times he's pressed her with idle curiosity. Over time, she's told him more and more about the place, but never what or where it is, and it doesn't sound like any place he's ever been. The curiosity has never faded. ]
Maybe I'll take you back there myself one day.
no subject
[She keeps pressing her fingers into his back, knowing that a proper lady here would never do this. Eleanor Guthrie would never do this. A whore might, if she were paid. Daphne learned to do this from one of the doctors at home, before she was a queen, when she was still just a girl. Before she ever shifted.
She finds those sweet pressure points right at the base of his skull and digs her thumbs there.]
It's too far. You would go, and you would have to stay. You wouldn't want to leave Nassau for that long.
no subject
I'm not afraid of a long voyage.
[ The fortress won't be forever. When Eleanor finally comes around to their proper partnership, he'll be able to leave the island in her hands and come back to take his place beside her. He could find himself a new ship and sail across the seas to the distant land that Daphne came from.
His voice comes out guttural, as every limb slowly goes loose and limp. ]
God, that feels fucking good.
no subject
[She rocks her hands into his muscle, moving in silence for a time, up his arms, down his back, using that strength of her hands to break apart the tension. There are places she can tell that he's probably used to being sore, and she works there for a long moment.]
My home is in the base of a jungle, against a series of mountains. It's been independent for centuries, a small kingdom, wedged between the sea a river so wide that one of your ships could navigate it. There are legends about us. They say that the jungle was where the first tigers came from.
[She keeps pressing.]
It is wilder than here. Less civilized. But richer. The jungle is thicker, the ocean is more savage. We kept the English and the Portuguese at bay.
[She almost never talks about India; she almost never talks about this. She misses home.]
The sky is bluer there, I think. Maybe it's always bluer, when you think of home.
no subject
Nassau isn't the only place for wild things.
His eyes have opened. He only realizes it when she moves just enough to let him see her from the corner of his eye. ]
I'd miss it too, if I were you.
no subject
She rocks her fingers into his skin.]
I do miss it. The food, the spices. The way the ocean smelled. My house. Nassau, at least, is better than some cold European shore.
We used to hunt elephants. They’re bigger than a house. Enormous creatures, with tusks, and a long nose they use to eat, and drink. One can smash a man flat. My cousin found a baby elephant once and raised it, and even as a baby it was as large as a horse.
If you took me home, I would show you everything. Where the water of the river runs over with rubies, in the height of the rainy season. Pink and yellow ones. We polish them and sell them to the Mughals, sometimes. The ones we don’t keep.
[She rocks her entire body forward a bit, to put her weight into this.]
Should I stop?
no subject
[ Absolutely fucking not. He feels so fucking good, and he hasn't felt this good in weeks. Somewhere Eleanor is fuming, and Jack and Anne are cowering together, and Flint is preparing in whatever fashion to make Vane's life miserable, but here and now it's just him and Daphne, and Daphne's hands feel incredible. So does the weight of her body. So does he, with baby elephants and diamond rivers filling up his head.
Pressing into the furs, he turns underneath her, catching her leg before she tries to get up off of him. As soon as he's on his back instead, he pulls her down again, still straddling his thighs. Now he's watching her, and he finds one of her hands and draws it back to his body. ]
Don't stop. Keep talking.
no subject
My house has been there for almost a thousand years. It houses my entire family, and is made of stone, but it always feels cool.
[She presses the same spot on the opposite pec, watching her hands even as she knows he’s watching her.]
You can see the water from my room. Not like here. There is land, and a town, between us, but you can see ocean. You can see the sun set right into the water.
no subject
He knows she wants him. He's wanted her since he first saw her, but there were reasons not to pursue her that way... mostly related to Eleanor. But Eleanor turned her back on him, and until she makes amends for that, Vane figures she doesn't get to have a say in what he does with his time. Or who, for that matter.
So when her careful touch and her talk of cool stone and ocean sunsets start to make him hard, he doesn't hide it, and he doesn't take his eyes off of her either. ]
I'll take you there myself.
no subject
It's not that she doesn't think he's lying to her. But Nassau is his, and Nassau will swallow him, as sure and as potent as anything. She knows what rulership does better than anyone. She would have never left, but by force. She knows what power does.
He doesn't. Not yet. He will.
She smiles, and it's almost gentle. It's just as feral.]
You already have my loyalty, Captain Vane. Are you trying to buy me?
[She moves just a little. There are layers of fabric between his cock and her, but she knows he's hard. She also knows that a massage, a beautiful woman, power-
-all of these things can make a man hard.]
Captain. Do you want me, or should I go and find you a whore?
no subject
He sits up slowly, holding her gaze with naked want in his own, and slides his arms around her waist. Not so fast or so tight as to imply that he's going to exert his will over hers, but deliberately unmistakeable.
He pulls her hips forward, letting the hard bulge of his cock press more firmly between her legs. ]
Why would I ever choose a whore over you?
no subject
But the older creature, the political one, the one who is guarding her heart and her pockets is in charge.]
I am preferable to any whore, it’s true.
[She’s a jewel and she knows it; not because she doesn’t sell herself (because god knows that doesn’t factor into this, and she knows he doesn’t care) but because she is the rarest prize on this island. He may not know it, but she does.
Still.]
I’m asking if you would have any woman on your lap now, or if it’s me.
[Because she will leave, if she thinks it’s simply a matter of function that needs to be fulfilled.
Still, she doesn’t pull away. She rocks against him, pressing down on his cock.]
no subject
She is a jewel, and she always has been. He's simply had to imagine her as unattainable. In a way, she still is, because sex itself isn't a commitment, from one side or the other. They can fuck because it's fun and they feel like it - and because it would probably piss off Eleanor, something he suspects she'd enjoy as much as he would right now.
His gaze drops, finally, to her mouth, and stays there. ]
It's you. I want you, right here and right now.
no subject
Let go. I want to give you something.
[She moves smoothly off him, when he does.
She knows enough about Nassau, and these pirates, to know that often sex is a matter of fast transaction, and even when it’s not, it’s often done through layers of clothes and as desperately as possible.
Frankly, it’s too fucking hot for that, and Daphne doesn’t own more than one set of stays, so she’s not getting them filthy or ripped just for sex, even if it is with the only man on this shitrock that she’d let between her legs.
Better, though; she smiles and undoes her dress, her clothes peeling off her one layer at a time, being set aside until she’s naked and just close enough to touch. Even in the dim light, bathed in orange from the sun setting through the window, she has that glow to her. Her nipples are dark and hard, and there’s a damp sheen at the curls between her legs.]
These are your spoils, Captain.
no subject
Slowly he stands up, keeping his hungry gaze on her, and takes a step closer. One hand reaches out and curls around her waist, pulling her naked body very assertively against his own - and his other hand drops boldly between her legs, fingers caressing her pussy just enough to see how wet she is.
Then he kisses her, and there's nothing gentle about that. This is his victory celebration, and he intends to enjoy it as thoroughly as possible. ]
no subject
She's already slick, the dampness and the tightness having started when she massaged his back and only growing worse as the time went on. She bites at his mouth, the fine line of his lips, and presses up on her toes to get as close as she can.
But once that kiss is done she's working his pants open and down, over his hips, down as far as she can without pulling away from him. She wants to kiss him again, and so she does, and it's clear he's not the only one possessive here. Every stroke of his hand against her cunt gets her making high-pitched, needy noises, and every time it moves away she growls.]
no subject
Instead of dragging her onto the bed again, his palm kneading over her cunt goes firm, nearly lifting her, and he backs her up against the table so he can immediately shove her down on top of it. Her empty cup rolls to the floor, and one chair topples over from the force with which he pins her and pulls her legs around his waist. ]
Are you this wet just from touching me?
[ It's barely a murmur, as if he's hardly aware he's even voiced the thought out loud, but the rumble of pure lust in it hints otherwise. ]
no subject
-oh, spirits, she can't remember. Before she was taken, for sure, and she still doesn't know how long she was on that ship. She lost track of time. At least nine months, she thinks, and then she's been on Nassau for six, so it's been a time.
She pulls her legs up, hitches them against the small of his back. Her eyes are bright, as she tugs her hips against his hand.]
Yes.
[She says the word like a challenge, her hands going up to his biceps, the low purr of her voice an octave deeper than it usually is. She can't stop looking at him, at his face, at the way he looks at her like he can't quite fathom how he caught a force of nature between his fingers.]
If you had told me to leave I would have ended up snarling my way out of the fort and finding a dark corner to curse your name and use my own hand.
[It's never a good idea to tell a man how much you want him, is what Daphne knows, because men are stupid and think that they'll have power over you. But she doesn't care right now. One hand moves to roll down his chest, to one his nipples, and she runs a short nail over it.]