[ 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
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.]