[Oh, he wants more of her story, he wants more of her fantasy. Itās his, now, she thinks, something that they can craft together when sheās pressed against his heart and listening to the insistent thump of it, demanding her attention.
But she can give him more now, even as her pussy aches for more, even as she feels skin hunger for all of him.
Her eyes are still closed, shut tight.]
Iād be wet from the second your ship came into view. It might take hours, oh, hell - [there is a desperate keening noise, then, as his fingers spread her open like sheās made for him] - but my body would know, dripping and hot, my nipples tight for you.
No one else would do, Jesus, Charles, my cunt would practically have the memory of the shape of your cock.
[the fact that she hasn't opened her eyes yet drives him a little bit insane. it's like she's there right now, on that beach that doesn't exist, seeing each part of it as she describes it to him. the wind, the sand, the sea.
and he doesn't want to wait anymore.
vane snarls into the kiss, frustrated not by her but by the delay of having to get his dick out. having to take his fingers out of her is the worst part of it, when she's so wet it's leaving streaks on his trousers.
but as soon as he frees his cock, he can lift her up and hook her thighs around his waist, practically gliding inside her within the molten-slick walls of her cunt. that's when he really moans, wrapping both arms around her, clutching at her like he wants to sear every detail into his memory.
it would be wilder than this, in that moment. they would crash into each other like a storm.]
[She gasps, then, and her eyes fly open, and her fingers come up around his head, tangling in his hair, slick smearing there, too. They're going to smell like her, from top to bottom, and she's going to revel in that.
Her whole body clenches around him, and she's biting at his mouth, catching it as she practically rides him, and she whimpers his name against his mouth.]
Just like this, every time, fuck me-
[She pulls him, leaning back, one hand coming behind her to catch their weight and pull him down over her, her legs tight around his slim waist, trying to get him to move into her faster.]
[vane falls with her immediately, more than willing to be dragged into her, demanded, like they really are making up for lost time. the way it felt before, when he'd just returned to the city and she welcomed him back, unconditionally.
he hadn't expected that.
so he presses her down into the bundle of covers, thrusting into her at the ruthless pace she wants, but he keeps one hand buried in her hair, his mouth against her beautiful neck. he wants the scent of her to be everywhere, to surround his bed for when he wants to lie there and think of her. deeper than that, he wants to be certain that she thinks of him, too, when he's not there.
then he bites her at the curve of her shoulder. last time, that left a mark.]
[That's going to leave another mark; it takes a few days for a bite to disappear from her skin. She knocks her head back and cries out, her pussy practically milking his cock as she comes. Her entire body rocks up against him, and to her shock, there's a second orgasm chasing the first one.
She reaches to tug his face up to hers, to give him a kiss and then press their foreheads together, her nose against his.]
Come for me, I want you to, I want you to feel good, Charles.
[she's done her part, he feels fucking incredible. if there was any air left in his lungs when she pulls him against her like that, he'd kiss her, but it's almost a nuzzle instead as he gasps and thrusts into her quaking body.
then he comes, filling her up with his cock so that it spills out deep inside her, and he pulls her tightly against him, pressing his face to the mark he's already left behind. she can't possibly know what she does to him, how good she always makes him feel. knowing that would give her more power over him than he wants her to have.]
[She doesn't know. She doesn't know, because she's almost entirely convinced that she wants him more than he could possibly want her. He doesn't know what he's done to her, undone her, obsessed her, unraveled her and rewrote her.
It terrifies her to the center of her.
Her hands come up to hold him tight to her, and her body eases, relaxes, holds him close. She stays there a minute, not moving, not saying anything.
Finally:]
I didn't know just that fantasy would make you so eager.
[he feels the same way she sounds, except for a sharp point of focus on her, and absolutely nothing else beyond that.]
I liked the way it sounded.
[fucking understatement - but it's easier to temper his reaction now that the frenzy of it has passed. he manages to work his hand back up into her hair, playing with the long strands.]
Couldn't resist, when it was already affecting you.
[Her own world would not be kind to a man like Vane. There aren't many places that he could have managed, except maybe if he were kinfolk, living away from the bustle of the modern world. Not because she doesn't think he's capable, but civilization isn't just there, it's relentless, shaping the entire planet. Daphne knows it better than anyone.
So better to focus on his, a world that they can both, to a degree, understand, even if Daphne's perspective is as much out of a book as anything.]
If I came ashore and had you waiting for me, I wouldn't give a fuck about anything else.
[coming back to the island - for most pirates, not just him - meant finding a way to either relax or blow off steam as quickly and efficiently as possible, after days or weeks at sea with duty and death far surpassing pleasure. the brothel and the tavern bore most of the weight.
but if he was coming back to daphne, they'd manage both with each other.]
Might depend on my mood, whether I bothered to get you somewhere private first.
[he's definitely teasing her for that. let the whole island know that his woman is right here waiting for him, but her ecstasy would be for his eyes alone.]
You think I would let you just have me like that in front of all your men?
[She laughs a little, but it's not a cruel one. She runs her hand through his hair, to press it back over his ear.]
If I were yours, like that? They can all wonder what the captain's got that they don't, I wouldn't be a whore for anyone to look at.
[She's teasing, too, if it's worth anything right now. She loops one leg over his, and then moves a little to pillow her head with an arm, so she can look at him a little easier.]
I might want you but I'd make you take me somewhere. Maybe I would keep a place of my own.
[just in case there was any doubt, let her be sure that he would demand their privacy too, despite what the occasional trick of duplicity might suggest about him.]
Of course you'd claim something for yourself. One way or the other.
[would she be queen of nassau? probably not. she's enough like him, he thinks, ultimately wanting freedom more than power. she might have seen the island for the toxic thing it was and never bothered to try and take the chair for herself.
maybe he just likes to think she would have made him wiser, too.]
There would be rumors about you. You'd draw attention.
[The sex is incredible, there's no single doubt about that. But the way they talk to each other? The time that they soak in each other? That's what Daphne's living for, right now. This is just as good, hearing his gravely voice plot out a life for them that may be impossible but is still rewarding to hear about.]
That you're a witch. That I'm under your spell. It's always the same.
[he'd heard plenty of them about the woman that flint kept hidden on the island. there were many about eleanor, certainly more than he heard considering his own reputation with her.
although they attributed less magic to eleanor, having to deal with her directly day after day instead of mere rumors of her existence. so they mostly called her a cunt.]
But they'd see for themselves that we don't control each other. If I had to collect a few tongues first, so be it.
I think you just made me a little wetter, saying that.
[Here's the truth of it: Daphne is perfectly and completely capable of taking care of herself. She didn't fight her way to the top without that ability. She's a lawyer; dealing with rumors and wagging tongues is just a part of the game.
But another part of it is that sometimes, it's attractive, beyond attractive, to hear that someone would protect you, even if you could do it yourself. And the fact is that no one has really offered it; generally, Daphne has not been with possessive or protective men.]
You, offering to take someone's tongue for slandering me.
[he chuckles, sifting through her hair again, stroking the back of her neck.]
I'd rather nip it in the bud.
[let her worry about more important things than who's talking shit. he makes a good guard dog, when he chooses for himself to be one. and he would want it to be known that speaking ill of her in his presence would be just as ill-advised as doing it to her face.
he stretches out a little, making himself comfortable on the blankets beside her, loosely tangled with her warm body. as much as he enjoys the fantasy, he's feeling very comfortable in this moment, and curious.]
[She tugs some of the blankets up around herself, and around him too, moving so that she's curled with him, smiling a bit.]
My home?
[She has to think about it for a minute.]
It's hard to talk about home. I travel a lot, between New York and London, I barely spend enough time in either place to consider either of them home. I think if I had the option?
[She breathes in, and thinks about it.]
I want to be somewhere that people haven't destroyed. Sometimes I think of some of wild places still left, in Bengal, and think I could be at home there.
[he props his head up on his arm, very relaxed and deliciously warm beneath the covers with her, despite the cold winter air. lying here with her makes him even more eager to have a proper bed - something with a little more give than several layers of blankets on wood.]
Where are your people?
[her broader clan, perhaps, but also her friends or family, if that's how she prefers to answer. loved ones and the ones she chooses to keep within reach, for whatever reason she has.]
[She tugs a little bit of his hair and starts to braid it, idly.]
My people.
[She smiles a little at that.]
There are seventeen Khan in New York, and twenty-three in London. Four hundred kinfolk, give or take, in the Mid-Atlantic. Jai Ayer is the asshole who controls Boston - he's taking care of my cousin Maia, under the assumption she'll marry him one day, but I don't think that's going to happen.
There are another six or seven hundred kinfolk in London, who mostly report to me, although when I'm not around they take their issues to my aunt Priya.
[She takes a deep breath.]
My mother lives in Los Angeles with my stepfather, and my little sister lives in Miami with her boyfriend. My grandmother is still in York.
Keeping it all together means having to give up the notion of stability. If I give up London to one of the other Khan or to the London Simba pride, then I can't go back. If I give up New York, Ayer will come and make life difficult for my kinfolk.
[She puts one arm over his waist, done with his hair. She just knows she wants to keep touching him.]
It's easier to travel, where I'm from. I can get to London from New York in seven hours, if I need to.
[when she tells him about her world, it's like her voice echoes faintly with the sheer size of it behind her, so much wider and yet infinitely more accessible than the one he'd recognize. it makes him wonder if he would even last in her world; even the tigers are playing games of politics. he's never been able to get the hang of it. negotiations were always jack's time to shine, and the longer they lasted, the brighter he did.
vane's certainly noticing similarities, between the two people that really matter to him in this place.
in any case. he knows quite well what a monumental task it is to bring leaders under one tent, whether literally or figuratively. it took the spanish gold - and vane's astronomically unlikely role as conciliator between flint and jack - to manage it on nassau. in the modern world, he can scarcely imagine the complications, and doesn't particularly want to, either.]
I envy you having the world at your fingertips. But not your responsibilities.
You would like some of them. Killing asura. Demons, is the best translation. Corruptions. Destroying vampires.
[But largely, she thinks he wouldnāt like it. She might call him lion but he would be a Rokea through and through, except heās far too attractive. Disdainful of humans and even of shifters and their politics, keeping to the oceans, destroying anyone who comes too close.
But she doesnāt want to think of him that way. As long as heās not a shifter she can keep him.]
I donāt even like some of my responsibilities.
[She says this next part because theyāre here, in bed (or something like it) together, because sheās easy with pleasure.]
If you were with me, we could take Boston. I would let you give me children. Weād have the fiercest cubs.
[hunting demons sounds fucking cool as hell. the vampires thing, less so, mostly because his limited experience with vampires here in duplicity has been largely inoffensive, so he's got no particular inclination to destroy them. maybe her world is different. demons, though, that goes without saying.
it's the mention of children that makes him quiet. like most pirates who came to the account young, he saw plenty of elders retire inland, take wives, father children. it was almost expected at a certain point, once a man had either stockpiled enough riches to satisfy himself or had simply grown tired of the smell of blood and gunpowder. vane himself could scarcely conceptualize such a thing - until he fell in love with eleanor, and thought for the first time that there might very well be reasons to build something that couldn't be taken by the sea.
that had been an ugly mistake and a hard-learned lesson, the half-formed aspiration killed in its cradle. but it doesn't really matter, here, with daphne conjuring up visions of a nonexistent future. she's talking about things that never could happen, even if he changed his mind.]
I don't know shit about children. [once again, his fingers curl loosely into her hair.] But I imagine you're right, either way.
[She seems unbothered by that fact. It's her duty to have children; she still lives in the kind of world where there is a village to raise a child. Being a shifter means a community that will congregate, make sure that anyone who is part of the family will be well-cared for. But that also doesn't matter, because here, she can't have children, and because she can't take him with her.
What he doesn't know: she's never thought of someone to be a father for a child of hers before. Not really, not since Asher. But she tries to not think very hard about him, in any case.]
[well. it's only fair, isn't it, that she should ask. but vane finds that it doesn't seem to matter to him much. it was so long ago, so far removed from where he ended up. and it's not like she has any of the context that would make admitting such a thing so fucking embarrassing.
still, it takes him a moment or two of silence to answer.]
Thought I did, once. It didn't last.
[he rolls onto his back a little, folding his arm beneath his head, but he keeps the other one tucked around her.]
[No one has said the name "Eleanor Guthrie" in Daphne's presence, so she truly is well removed from the context. She tucks herself in a little closer, and takes a breath.]
Maybe it would have.
[She puts one hand over his chest. A family: she tries to not go any further than that. She doesn't have baby fever and she doesn't really want it, but she thinks that if she spends too much time building that fantasy with Charles Vane, it'll end up breaking her.
So.
Something else. Anything else.]
Can I trade this shirt in for a different one?
[He doesn't have many clothes, she knows it, but she is going to keep one of his shirts close because, well.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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[Oh, he wants more of her story, he wants more of her fantasy. Itās his, now, she thinks, something that they can craft together when sheās pressed against his heart and listening to the insistent thump of it, demanding her attention.
But she can give him more now, even as her pussy aches for more, even as she feels skin hunger for all of him.
Her eyes are still closed, shut tight.]
Iād be wet from the second your ship came into view. It might take hours, oh, hell - [there is a desperate keening noise, then, as his fingers spread her open like sheās made for him] - but my body would know, dripping and hot, my nipples tight for you.
No one else would do, Jesus, Charles, my cunt would practically have the memory of the shape of your cock.
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and he doesn't want to wait anymore.
vane snarls into the kiss, frustrated not by her but by the delay of having to get his dick out. having to take his fingers out of her is the worst part of it, when she's so wet it's leaving streaks on his trousers.
but as soon as he frees his cock, he can lift her up and hook her thighs around his waist, practically gliding inside her within the molten-slick walls of her cunt. that's when he really moans, wrapping both arms around her, clutching at her like he wants to sear every detail into his memory.
it would be wilder than this, in that moment. they would crash into each other like a storm.]
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Her whole body clenches around him, and she's biting at his mouth, catching it as she practically rides him, and she whimpers his name against his mouth.]
Just like this, every time, fuck me-
[She pulls him, leaning back, one hand coming behind her to catch their weight and pull him down over her, her legs tight around his slim waist, trying to get him to move into her faster.]
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he hadn't expected that.
so he presses her down into the bundle of covers, thrusting into her at the ruthless pace she wants, but he keeps one hand buried in her hair, his mouth against her beautiful neck. he wants the scent of her to be everywhere, to surround his bed for when he wants to lie there and think of her. deeper than that, he wants to be certain that she thinks of him, too, when he's not there.
then he bites her at the curve of her shoulder. last time, that left a mark.]
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She reaches to tug his face up to hers, to give him a kiss and then press their foreheads together, her nose against his.]
Come for me, I want you to, I want you to feel good, Charles.
[Her voice is soft, gentle.]
I want you to. I want you.
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then he comes, filling her up with his cock so that it spills out deep inside her, and he pulls her tightly against him, pressing his face to the mark he's already left behind. she can't possibly know what she does to him, how good she always makes him feel. knowing that would give her more power over him than he wants her to have.]
Oh, fuck, Daphne.
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It terrifies her to the center of her.
Her hands come up to hold him tight to her, and her body eases, relaxes, holds him close. She stays there a minute, not moving, not saying anything.
Finally:]
I didn't know just that fantasy would make you so eager.
[She sounds hazy, a little drunk.]
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I liked the way it sounded.
[fucking understatement - but it's easier to temper his reaction now that the frenzy of it has passed. he manages to work his hand back up into her hair, playing with the long strands.]
Couldn't resist, when it was already affecting you.
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Is that how it would have gone?
[Her own world would not be kind to a man like Vane. There aren't many places that he could have managed, except maybe if he were kinfolk, living away from the bustle of the modern world. Not because she doesn't think he's capable, but civilization isn't just there, it's relentless, shaping the entire planet. Daphne knows it better than anyone.
So better to focus on his, a world that they can both, to a degree, understand, even if Daphne's perspective is as much out of a book as anything.]
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[coming back to the island - for most pirates, not just him - meant finding a way to either relax or blow off steam as quickly and efficiently as possible, after days or weeks at sea with duty and death far surpassing pleasure. the brothel and the tavern bore most of the weight.
but if he was coming back to daphne, they'd manage both with each other.]
Might depend on my mood, whether I bothered to get you somewhere private first.
[he's definitely teasing her for that. let the whole island know that his woman is right here waiting for him, but her ecstasy would be for his eyes alone.]
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[She laughs a little, but it's not a cruel one. She runs her hand through his hair, to press it back over his ear.]
If I were yours, like that? They can all wonder what the captain's got that they don't, I wouldn't be a whore for anyone to look at.
[She's teasing, too, if it's worth anything right now. She loops one leg over his, and then moves a little to pillow her head with an arm, so she can look at him a little easier.]
I might want you but I'd make you take me somewhere. Maybe I would keep a place of my own.
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[just in case there was any doubt, let her be sure that he would demand their privacy too, despite what the occasional trick of duplicity might suggest about him.]
Of course you'd claim something for yourself. One way or the other.
[would she be queen of nassau? probably not. she's enough like him, he thinks, ultimately wanting freedom more than power. she might have seen the island for the toxic thing it was and never bothered to try and take the chair for herself.
maybe he just likes to think she would have made him wiser, too.]
There would be rumors about you. You'd draw attention.
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[She leans back, sighs, and watches his face.]
What kind of rumors?
[The sex is incredible, there's no single doubt about that. But the way they talk to each other? The time that they soak in each other? That's what Daphne's living for, right now. This is just as good, hearing his gravely voice plot out a life for them that may be impossible but is still rewarding to hear about.]
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[he'd heard plenty of them about the woman that flint kept hidden on the island. there were many about eleanor, certainly more than he heard considering his own reputation with her.
although they attributed less magic to eleanor, having to deal with her directly day after day instead of mere rumors of her existence. so they mostly called her a cunt.]
But they'd see for themselves that we don't control each other. If I had to collect a few tongues first, so be it.
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I think you just made me a little wetter, saying that.
[Here's the truth of it: Daphne is perfectly and completely capable of taking care of herself. She didn't fight her way to the top without that ability. She's a lawyer; dealing with rumors and wagging tongues is just a part of the game.
But another part of it is that sometimes, it's attractive, beyond attractive, to hear that someone would protect you, even if you could do it yourself. And the fact is that no one has really offered it; generally, Daphne has not been with possessive or protective men.]
You, offering to take someone's tongue for slandering me.
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I'd rather nip it in the bud.
[let her worry about more important things than who's talking shit. he makes a good guard dog, when he chooses for himself to be one. and he would want it to be known that speaking ill of her in his presence would be just as ill-advised as doing it to her face.
he stretches out a little, making himself comfortable on the blankets beside her, loosely tangled with her warm body. as much as he enjoys the fantasy, he's feeling very comfortable in this moment, and curious.]
Tell me about your home.
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My home?
[She has to think about it for a minute.]
It's hard to talk about home. I travel a lot, between New York and London, I barely spend enough time in either place to consider either of them home. I think if I had the option?
[She breathes in, and thinks about it.]
I want to be somewhere that people haven't destroyed. Sometimes I think of some of wild places still left, in Bengal, and think I could be at home there.
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Where are your people?
[her broader clan, perhaps, but also her friends or family, if that's how she prefers to answer. loved ones and the ones she chooses to keep within reach, for whatever reason she has.]
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My people.
[She smiles a little at that.]
There are seventeen Khan in New York, and twenty-three in London. Four hundred kinfolk, give or take, in the Mid-Atlantic. Jai Ayer is the asshole who controls Boston - he's taking care of my cousin Maia, under the assumption she'll marry him one day, but I don't think that's going to happen.
There are another six or seven hundred kinfolk in London, who mostly report to me, although when I'm not around they take their issues to my aunt Priya.
[She takes a deep breath.]
My mother lives in Los Angeles with my stepfather, and my little sister lives in Miami with her boyfriend. My grandmother is still in York.
Keeping it all together means having to give up the notion of stability. If I give up London to one of the other Khan or to the London Simba pride, then I can't go back. If I give up New York, Ayer will come and make life difficult for my kinfolk.
[She puts one arm over his waist, done with his hair. She just knows she wants to keep touching him.]
It's easier to travel, where I'm from. I can get to London from New York in seven hours, if I need to.
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vane's certainly noticing similarities, between the two people that really matter to him in this place.
in any case. he knows quite well what a monumental task it is to bring leaders under one tent, whether literally or figuratively. it took the spanish gold - and vane's astronomically unlikely role as conciliator between flint and jack - to manage it on nassau. in the modern world, he can scarcely imagine the complications, and doesn't particularly want to, either.]
I envy you having the world at your fingertips. But not your responsibilities.
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[But largely, she thinks he wouldnāt like it. She might call him lion but he would be a Rokea through and through, except heās far too attractive. Disdainful of humans and even of shifters and their politics, keeping to the oceans, destroying anyone who comes too close.
But she doesnāt want to think of him that way. As long as heās not a shifter she can keep him.]
I donāt even like some of my responsibilities.
[She says this next part because theyāre here, in bed (or something like it) together, because sheās easy with pleasure.]
If you were with me, we could take Boston. I would let you give me children. Weād have the fiercest cubs.
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it's the mention of children that makes him quiet. like most pirates who came to the account young, he saw plenty of elders retire inland, take wives, father children. it was almost expected at a certain point, once a man had either stockpiled enough riches to satisfy himself or had simply grown tired of the smell of blood and gunpowder. vane himself could scarcely conceptualize such a thing - until he fell in love with eleanor, and thought for the first time that there might very well be reasons to build something that couldn't be taken by the sea.
that had been an ugly mistake and a hard-learned lesson, the half-formed aspiration killed in its cradle. but it doesn't really matter, here, with daphne conjuring up visions of a nonexistent future. she's talking about things that never could happen, even if he changed his mind.]
I don't know shit about children. [once again, his fingers curl loosely into her hair.] But I imagine you're right, either way.
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[She seems unbothered by that fact. It's her duty to have children; she still lives in the kind of world where there is a village to raise a child. Being a shifter means a community that will congregate, make sure that anyone who is part of the family will be well-cared for. But that also doesn't matter, because here, she can't have children, and because she can't take him with her.
What he doesn't know: she's never thought of someone to be a father for a child of hers before. Not really, not since Asher. But she tries to not think very hard about him, in any case.]
I suspect I'm not very domestic.
[She looks up at him, then.]
Did you ever want a family?
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still, it takes him a moment or two of silence to answer.]
Thought I did, once. It didn't last.
[he rolls onto his back a little, folding his arm beneath his head, but he keeps the other one tucked around her.]
If it had been you, maybe it would have.
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Maybe it would have.
[She puts one hand over his chest. A family: she tries to not go any further than that. She doesn't have baby fever and she doesn't really want it, but she thinks that if she spends too much time building that fantasy with Charles Vane, it'll end up breaking her.
So.
Something else. Anything else.]
Can I trade this shirt in for a different one?
[He doesn't have many clothes, she knows it, but she is going to keep one of his shirts close because, well.
She likes them.]
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