I got the feeling you knew what I was talking about.
[She turns her head just a little, and this time when she kisses him there isn't the roaring, bone-deep fury that accompanied her actions earlier. There's something a little softer, just this side of romantic.]
I'm going to turn around, you need someone to wash your hair.
[ It's his turn to make a thoughtful little sound, this one like he's not sure he wants to bother... but oh well, since she asked so nicely.
As if he'd be stupid enough to pass up the chance to have her touch him without her claws out some more. There's something immensely satisfying about it, especially after seeing how easily those claws can turn lethal. ]
You want me to turn around too?
[ One of them might as well admire the other naked - he just wants to know which. ]
[She turns reaches for shampoo, and stands up on her tiptoes. She shakes her head a little, and reaches to massage her fingers into his scalp, pressing hard enough to make it good, scrubbing as she look at his mouth, his chest, and then at his face.]
I prefer looking at you, lionman.
[She rubs the soap down his hair, and then checks the lines of scabs down his arms.]
[ He closes his eyes when she starts to scrub his hair. It only occurs to him after he's done so that he's never been so quick to close his eyes to someone he's only just met, like this, in such a vulnerable position. He's had women wash his hair before, whores specifically, and even then he'd only allowed it from the ones he knew and liked.
But recognizing now how easy it would be for Daphne to kill him makes it that much more significant that she hasn't done it yet. And god, does he have a thing for that in a woman. ]
I'm not complaining.
[ He might be less marked up than she expects. The pirates come from a time when even superficial wounds could easily turn deadly, so as far as they could go toward not taking damage at all, they would. Charles Vane was always more willing than most to go head-to-head with his foe; that he himself doesn't bear a net of scars is definitely a testament to his abilities. All there is to see on his chest are a few white marks here and there - and a brand, like a pointed diamond, over his heart. ]
Don't think I could complain now, as long as I leave with my head still attached.
[She moves her hands back to his scalp, to the nape of his neck, running her nails on skin. She's looking at that net of scars, and after she's satisfied with the amount she's cleaned his hair and led him into the stream of hot water, she leans forward and presses her mouth against some of those scars, the ones on his shoulders and chest. It's not a kiss, not exactly, as much as it's just a soft touch of her mouth like she's trying to memorize the shape of some of them.
It's actually almost tender.]
You haven't done anything to merit the loss of your head.
[A pause.]
Yet.
[Although now he's going to start smelling like her, and once he does, he belongs to her, and Daphne takes care of her own.]
[ Her mouth feels so fucking good - the warmth of it alone sends currents of electricity underneath his skin, the soft shape of her lips tugging at his insides. It surprises him a little, enough to make him wonder if she's playing with him, like this. That it doesn't worry him probably says as much as the tenderness does about her.
The scars themselves don't mean much to him. He's never attributed meaning to them, not even as a mark of survival, because one's survival stands for itself.
But the brand is different. When her mouth comes near it, his hand is suddenly beneath her chin again, tilting her head back up. ]
[ Of course not. He's pretty sure she could kill him one-handed. ]
Mmm, no. I guess you don't need to worry about much of anything.
[ Which is just so unspeakably hot in a woman, has he mentioned that yet?
Vane tips his head into the spray to rinse the suds from his hair, but his hand stays on her, slipping around the back of her neck. It's still novel to feel clean. ]
Would you want me to stop you, if it happens again?
[She seems perfectly pleased with this notion, satisfied in that perfect feline way.
She turns them so she gets under the jet of water, but doesnāt move his hands away. She likes how big he is, she likes how strong he is, she likes how possessive he acts. He canāt possess her and they both know it, but there is something extremely attractive about his confidence.]
If you see me almost kill someone like that?
[She thinks of slamming him into a wall; there is a part of her that knows he belongs to her already, that heās one of hers in a way that he canāt really know. That if another shifter smelled him they would catch the subtle notes of her possession.
So.
Thatās a measure of something shaped like trust.]
Yes.
Use your better judgment. If you fuck it up Iāll just give you another scar.
[She says it with a hand gripping his cock and on her tiptoes, to press their mouths together, before she slips out of the shower and reaches for a towel.]
He let himself be lulled by her thoughtful pause, and the hand on his cock makes him bite back a snarl that he almost doesn't catch. Or maybe he definitely doesn't. In fact he isn't fast enough to answer the kiss properly before it's gone, and she's leaving him behind under the water.
He flips the shower off, and follows her, doing the same about a towel with his dick half-hard now, thanks.
And then, despite everything they've just been talking about, or perhaps because of it, he catches her by the elbow and tugs her back to him. ]
You wouldn't just leave me like that, tigress. Would you?
[She lets herself move back towards him, and she's smiling, even more at the look on his face, and hums like she's thinking about it.]
I could be that cruel.
[But.
But.
She comes in close, and purposefully gets on her knees in front of him, her hands on his thighs. He has, frankly, excellent legs and a better cock, and she takes her time, her nose right where his leg meets his crotch, where he smells the most like himself, her breath against his balls.]
Does he recognize that there is a less than zero chance that she might bite his dick off just to prove a point? Yes.
Is he going to stop her just in case? Absolutely not.
We're practicing trust in this apartment. ]
I'd like to find out how nice you can be.
[ He says it as his fingers slide into her hair, not enough to tangle, just enough to push it back from her face and trace the shape of her cheek coming down. At this angle, there's no way to hide the eager twitch of his cock, she he doesn't try. ]
[She likes the deep gravel of his voice, the way he's looking at her with that real lust on his face, the way that he's tracing the line of her cheek. What is it about these pirates? Is all that sea air an aphrodisiac?
She won't admit that there is something genuinely pleasing about a man who doesn't give a shit about society; the genuine feline attitude and disrespect is perfectly at ease with her preferences. She looks up, her lips tilting in a smile, her hands on his hips now as she licks a stripe up the impressive length of him.
She has to hold back from shifting her tongue, to scrape. One day, she will. For now she just licks another stripe up, and then presses her mouth right under the head, sucking a bit right there, knowing it's a particularly sensitive spot.]
[ The reward for her effort is a guttural groan from him, and he rolls his head back to let another groan of pleasure vibrate out of his throat. How is it that he's never felt a mouth so hot or lips so soft? And to think that she can kiss his cock so sweetly with fangs of her own (metaphorical, of course) hidden just beneath the surface--
Another heavy twitch, and then his fingers are sliding back into her hair, this time enough to tangle just a little. It takes him a minute to tip his head forward again, but he immediately shoves his hair back so he can fixate on her, his hips flexing his cock forward the slightest bit, to stroke her lips.
She's hypnotizing. It's hard to think about literally anything else. ]
Keep going. [ A little twitch of his mouth, like he could be insolent if he wanted. ] If you please.
[She flicks her eyes up at him, and there's real, genuine emotion on her face, as she presses the tip of her tongue just against his skin.
She wonders what that if you please cost him. She wonders if he thinks it'll be absolutely worth it.
So she takes him into her mouth, then, her hands on his hips and her thumbs right against the joint. She closes her eyes, the flutter of her eyelashes against her cheeks as she sucks, gently at first, with just the head of his cock in her mouth.
But Daphne isn't a fool and she takes her time, pressing her mouth down so that his erection makes her cheek bulge a little, so it presses against the hot wet skin there.
She looks, for everything in the world, like she's having a good time, and it's because she is.]
They are both having a good time, and for Vane it's in the way he doesn't hold back the sound of each guttural moan, or the encouraging twist of his fingers in her hair, like he's genuinely torn between petting it or grabbing a fistful of it. But he's not stupid enough to pull a tiger's tail, such as it is; they're walking a line of mutual respect here, and he's not in any hurry to cross it. ]
God, your fucking mouth.
[ It's all he can do not to let his head fall back again, but he can't tear his eyes away from her. His hips rock forward again, this time to nudge his cock harder against the soft inside of her cheek, and deeper into her mouth. Just as much as he thinks he can get away with. ]
She laughs a little around his cock, and takes the extra length of him as he presses his hips forward, and then pulls one of her favorite tricks; she shifts just the inside of her throat, the inside of her mouth, to make it so she can deep throat him without choking or gagging. She has to move just a little, to give herself extra space, but she pauses there with her nose against bristly curls, getting the full smell of him.
Oh, but he does smell good.
And then she chuffs, the vibration coming up through her throat.]
[ Seven thousand hells - if this is how the Queen of Tigers sucks cock, he'd storm England and install Daphne on the throne himself.
This time he does throw his head back, and the sound he makes was supposed to be a curse, but it dissolved to a growl before making it out of his mouth. This time his grip in her hair goes tight, quick and desperate, like he'd thrust into her mouth if she wasn't already taking the whole damn thing.
What is she?
Credit where credit is due to the whores in Nassau, who have treated him well in his lifetime, but he's never met one woman who could hit so many targets. Feels like she's going to suck his soul out of him. ]
[She slaps him on the ass - not hard, but a protest against his hand tightening more, a warning. If he tightens and tugs, she'll use a tooth to remind him that he's in a very tender position with her at the moment.
And then she takes that hand and cups his balls, her hands so soft and so gentle, that it's a nice counterpoint to the fact that she really is determined to suck his soul out of his dick along with all his bones, her tongue working furiously against the length of him.
She glances up, to see how he's enjoying it, and her lips are distorted but even so she's smiling, pleased at the look of him, drunk with pleasure.]
[ That slap is enough to make him bite into another growl, but deliberately relax his grip on her hair. Every other muscle in his body is tense with the effort it takes not to grab her head and thrust his cock down her hot and vibrating and extremely flexible throat.
Her hand on his balls, so deceptively delicate, makes his cock throb in her mouth and brings him so close to the edge so quickly that he barely catches himself. It sends a shudder through him, his free hand held in a fist like he's gripping his own willpower on an invisible leash, and groans so she knows how close he is, how close she's making him.
Eventually, and with great difficulty, he manages to roll his head forward so that he can look at her again, because drunk is exactly how he feels right now, and he wants to be watching her when he finally comes in hot, heavy pulses, moaning from somewhere deep in his chest. ]
[When he looks down at her, she's looking up at him, her eyes dark as she takes her time, swallows, backs up just enough so the last burst of his orgasm coats her tongue and moves back, unfolding, standing. She primly presses the edge of her thumb to the corner of her mouth, and the tip of her tongue flicks out and licks her top lip.
And she gives him a searing kiss, the taste of him all over her mouth, tugging him down by the back of his neck.
It's not a fast kiss. It's very very sloppy. When she speaks, there's a hoarseness to her voice.]
[ What kind of question -- he's gonna fucking fall over in a second.
In fact it's the only reason he doesn't drag her back into that kiss, because she sounds incredible, and the fact that it came from sucking his cock makes it even sexier. Give him five minutes, he can go again... but, okay, fine. A nap would be kinda nice, too. He can behave. ]
I'll take it. [ Very deliberately, he relaxes his hold on her and lets her go, although that low, simmering want in his eyes is never going to go away. ] Maybe someday you can tell me where the fuck you learned how to do all that.
[She reaches for her towel again, and dries her hair off, her shoulders, her breasts, as she starts towards her bedroom. Her bed is enormous, king-sized and covered in a thick duvet and enough pillows to be slightly absurd, but she likes it.]
You have to earn my secrets, Charles.
[She gets in the bed and reaches for him, though, because she wants to-
-cuddle.
He's big and he's warm and she wants to press against him, to fall asleep against the heat of him; he's all leonine muscle and strong hands that feel good against her skin. She stretches, languid and naked and looking comfortable.]
But that's a temptation he's not nearly strong enough to pass up. So he scrubs his hair just enough so that it's not dripping water that's now ice cold everywhere, and then climbs into the massive bed after her. She's warm herself, and he's sick of this cold, and he's never slept as well as he does in the company of a beautiful naked woman.
She's welcome to position him how she likes, but he wants to touch her. He's not shy about doing it, his hand immediately sliding into the slope of her waist, stroking her hip, coaxing her closer. ]
[There is that languorous heat of another person, lush and luxurious in a way that makes her feel sleepy and drunk both. Itās the delicious warmth of being in a good sunny spot, eyes closed and her tail twitching.
She tugs and turns until sheās halfway on him, their legs tangled, her head against his shoulder. He can touch her all he wants without so much as a fuss from her. She, in turn, has one arm against his waist, her fingers brushing lightly, her nose against the dip of his clavicle.
She takes a breath.]
Thank you.
For stopping me.
[She says it sleepily, and itās true. She means it.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
I got the feeling you knew what I was talking about.
[She turns her head just a little, and this time when she kisses him there isn't the roaring, bone-deep fury that accompanied her actions earlier. There's something a little softer, just this side of romantic.]
I'm going to turn around, you need someone to wash your hair.
no subject
As if he'd be stupid enough to pass up the chance to have her touch him without her claws out some more. There's something immensely satisfying about it, especially after seeing how easily those claws can turn lethal. ]
You want me to turn around too?
[ One of them might as well admire the other naked - he just wants to know which. ]
no subject
I prefer looking at you, lionman.
[She rubs the soap down his hair, and then checks the lines of scabs down his arms.]
I suppose I'm a little overenthusiastic.
no subject
But recognizing now how easy it would be for Daphne to kill him makes it that much more significant that she hasn't done it yet. And god, does he have a thing for that in a woman. ]
I'm not complaining.
[ He might be less marked up than she expects. The pirates come from a time when even superficial wounds could easily turn deadly, so as far as they could go toward not taking damage at all, they would. Charles Vane was always more willing than most to go head-to-head with his foe; that he himself doesn't bear a net of scars is definitely a testament to his abilities. All there is to see on his chest are a few white marks here and there - and a brand, like a pointed diamond, over his heart. ]
Don't think I could complain now, as long as I leave with my head still attached.
no subject
It's actually almost tender.]
You haven't done anything to merit the loss of your head.
[A pause.]
Yet.
[Although now he's going to start smelling like her, and once he does, he belongs to her, and Daphne takes care of her own.]
no subject
The scars themselves don't mean much to him. He's never attributed meaning to them, not even as a mark of survival, because one's survival stands for itself.
But the brand is different. When her mouth comes near it, his hand is suddenly beneath her chin again, tilting her head back up. ]
You don't seem worried.
no subject
That you'll do something to me? Something I'll regret?
[She considers that. Her hands move to his waist, but her face doesn't turn away from his.]
That you'll hurt me?
[She takes a moment.]
I'm not going to worry about what might be.
no subject
Mmm, no. I guess you don't need to worry about much of anything.
[ Which is just so unspeakably hot in a woman, has he mentioned that yet?
Vane tips his head into the spray to rinse the suds from his hair, but his hand stays on her, slipping around the back of her neck. It's still novel to feel clean. ]
Would you want me to stop you, if it happens again?
no subject
[She seems perfectly pleased with this notion, satisfied in that perfect feline way.
She turns them so she gets under the jet of water, but doesnāt move his hands away. She likes how big he is, she likes how strong he is, she likes how possessive he acts. He canāt possess her and they both know it, but there is something extremely attractive about his confidence.]
If you see me almost kill someone like that?
[She thinks of slamming him into a wall; there is a part of her that knows he belongs to her already, that heās one of hers in a way that he canāt really know. That if another shifter smelled him they would catch the subtle notes of her possession.
So.
Thatās a measure of something shaped like trust.]
Yes.
Use your better judgment. If you fuck it up Iāll just give you another scar.
[She says it with a hand gripping his cock and on her tiptoes, to press their mouths together, before she slips out of the shower and reaches for a towel.]
no subject
He let himself be lulled by her thoughtful pause, and the hand on his cock makes him bite back a snarl that he almost doesn't catch. Or maybe he definitely doesn't. In fact he isn't fast enough to answer the kiss properly before it's gone, and she's leaving him behind under the water.
He flips the shower off, and follows her, doing the same about a towel with his dick half-hard now, thanks.
And then, despite everything they've just been talking about, or perhaps because of it, he catches her by the elbow and tugs her back to him. ]
You wouldn't just leave me like that, tigress. Would you?
no subject
I could be that cruel.
[But.
But.
She comes in close, and purposefully gets on her knees in front of him, her hands on his thighs. He has, frankly, excellent legs and a better cock, and she takes her time, her nose right where his leg meets his crotch, where he smells the most like himself, her breath against his balls.]
Or I could be really nice.
no subject
Does he recognize that there is a less than zero chance that she might bite his dick off just to prove a point? Yes.
Is he going to stop her just in case? Absolutely not.
We're practicing trust in this apartment. ]
I'd like to find out how nice you can be.
[ He says it as his fingers slide into her hair, not enough to tangle, just enough to push it back from her face and trace the shape of her cheek coming down. At this angle, there's no way to hide the eager twitch of his cock, she he doesn't try. ]
no subject
She won't admit that there is something genuinely pleasing about a man who doesn't give a shit about society; the genuine feline attitude and disrespect is perfectly at ease with her preferences. She looks up, her lips tilting in a smile, her hands on his hips now as she licks a stripe up the impressive length of him.
She has to hold back from shifting her tongue, to scrape. One day, she will. For now she just licks another stripe up, and then presses her mouth right under the head, sucking a bit right there, knowing it's a particularly sensitive spot.]
no subject
Another heavy twitch, and then his fingers are sliding back into her hair, this time enough to tangle just a little. It takes him a minute to tip his head forward again, but he immediately shoves his hair back so he can fixate on her, his hips flexing his cock forward the slightest bit, to stroke her lips.
She's hypnotizing. It's hard to think about literally anything else. ]
Keep going. [ A little twitch of his mouth, like he could be insolent if he wanted. ] If you please.
no subject
She wonders what that if you please cost him. She wonders if he thinks it'll be absolutely worth it.
So she takes him into her mouth, then, her hands on his hips and her thumbs right against the joint. She closes her eyes, the flutter of her eyelashes against her cheeks as she sucks, gently at first, with just the head of his cock in her mouth.
But Daphne isn't a fool and she takes her time, pressing her mouth down so that his erection makes her cheek bulge a little, so it presses against the hot wet skin there.
She looks, for everything in the world, like she's having a good time, and it's because she is.]
no subject
They are both having a good time, and for Vane it's in the way he doesn't hold back the sound of each guttural moan, or the encouraging twist of his fingers in her hair, like he's genuinely torn between petting it or grabbing a fistful of it. But he's not stupid enough to pull a tiger's tail, such as it is; they're walking a line of mutual respect here, and he's not in any hurry to cross it. ]
God, your fucking mouth.
[ It's all he can do not to let his head fall back again, but he can't tear his eyes away from her. His hips rock forward again, this time to nudge his cock harder against the soft inside of her cheek, and deeper into her mouth. Just as much as he thinks he can get away with. ]
no subject
She laughs a little around his cock, and takes the extra length of him as he presses his hips forward, and then pulls one of her favorite tricks; she shifts just the inside of her throat, the inside of her mouth, to make it so she can deep throat him without choking or gagging. She has to move just a little, to give herself extra space, but she pauses there with her nose against bristly curls, getting the full smell of him.
Oh, but he does smell good.
And then she chuffs, the vibration coming up through her throat.]
no subject
This time he does throw his head back, and the sound he makes was supposed to be a curse, but it dissolved to a growl before making it out of his mouth. This time his grip in her hair goes tight, quick and desperate, like he'd thrust into her mouth if she wasn't already taking the whole damn thing.
What is she?
Credit where credit is due to the whores in Nassau, who have treated him well in his lifetime, but he's never met one woman who could hit so many targets. Feels like she's going to suck his soul out of him. ]
no subject
And then she takes that hand and cups his balls, her hands so soft and so gentle, that it's a nice counterpoint to the fact that she really is determined to suck his soul out of his dick along with all his bones, her tongue working furiously against the length of him.
She glances up, to see how he's enjoying it, and her lips are distorted but even so she's smiling, pleased at the look of him, drunk with pleasure.]
no subject
Her hand on his balls, so deceptively delicate, makes his cock throb in her mouth and brings him so close to the edge so quickly that he barely catches himself. It sends a shudder through him, his free hand held in a fist like he's gripping his own willpower on an invisible leash, and groans so she knows how close he is, how close she's making him.
Eventually, and with great difficulty, he manages to roll his head forward so that he can look at her again, because drunk is exactly how he feels right now, and he wants to be watching her when he finally comes in hot, heavy pulses, moaning from somewhere deep in his chest. ]
no subject
And she gives him a searing kiss, the taste of him all over her mouth, tugging him down by the back of his neck.
It's not a fast kiss. It's very very sloppy. When she speaks, there's a hoarseness to her voice.]
Do you want to stay a bit? I kind of want a nap.
no subject
In fact it's the only reason he doesn't drag her back into that kiss, because she sounds incredible, and the fact that it came from sucking his cock makes it even sexier. Give him five minutes, he can go again... but, okay, fine. A nap would be kinda nice, too. He can behave. ]
I'll take it. [ Very deliberately, he relaxes his hold on her and lets her go, although that low, simmering want in his eyes is never going to go away. ] Maybe someday you can tell me where the fuck you learned how to do all that.
no subject
You have to earn my secrets, Charles.
[She gets in the bed and reaches for him, though, because she wants to-
-cuddle.
He's big and he's warm and she wants to press against him, to fall asleep against the heat of him; he's all leonine muscle and strong hands that feel good against her skin. She stretches, languid and naked and looking comfortable.]
no subject
But that's a temptation he's not nearly strong enough to pass up. So he scrubs his hair just enough so that it's not dripping water that's now ice cold everywhere, and then climbs into the massive bed after her. She's warm herself, and he's sick of this cold, and he's never slept as well as he does in the company of a beautiful naked woman.
She's welcome to position him how she likes, but he wants to touch her. He's not shy about doing it, his hand immediately sliding into the slope of her waist, stroking her hip, coaxing her closer. ]
no subject
She tugs and turns until sheās halfway on him, their legs tangled, her head against his shoulder. He can touch her all he wants without so much as a fuss from her. She, in turn, has one arm against his waist, her fingers brushing lightly, her nose against the dip of his clavicle.
She takes a breath.]
Thank you.
For stopping me.
[She says it sleepily, and itās true. She means it.]
(no subject)
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