DISCLAIMER: Pirate!
FURTHER DISCLAIMER: This is not fluff. This is not dreamy and romantic seduction. This is pirate smut. You have been warned. (I really don't know where I come up with this stuff, honestly.)
OH, AND ALSO: Both characters are left ambiguous on purpose. The female could be a canon character or maybe an OC. The pirate is a canon character, but which one? I'll leave that up to you to decide. ;)
Her heart pounded in her ears; her breathing was fast and ragged. The tangled sheets clung to her sweaty skin. Even now, listening to the soft click of the hatch as it shut behind him, she could still feel him inside her.
The seduction had been slow, drawn out. The taking had been hard, fast, and rough, so rough that she wondered if there was something wrong with her for enjoying every desperate, violent second of it. His voice had whispered in her mind as he took her, all the things he'd told her of piracy taking a far more visceral meaning.
One becomes a pirate out of desperation, but one remains a pirate for the thrill of it.
That leashed savagery within him was one of the things that had drawn her into his thrall. She'd wanted to feel it unleashed. She'd not even known the half of it.
There is no problem that cannot be resolved with the right combination of charm, intelligence, and weaponry.
Charm had gotten her dress off. His patience had been eroded by her soft, breathless whimpers; he'd done away with her stays and chemise with calculated slices of his dagger; the cool blade ghosting against her skin but leaving no mark.
Enjoy what you have to the fullest for as long as you have it.
She thought of the intense abandon with which he'd explored her, memorizing touch, taste, scent… he had had her in every way conceivable.
The world will always be unjust. Make sure that injustice is in your favor.
He'd used her own desires against her, made her betray herself in his arms.
There are no rules.
He'd done and made her feel things that were corrupted, unnatural. No amount of shame could take away the fact that, even now, with his seed still warm on her skin, she ached for more.
Take what you can. Give back nothing.
He'd not allowed her a release, always stopping, always drawing back when she neared that edge. No matter how she'd cursed and begged, he would only let her have what she wanted if she would say it in the coarsest, most humiliating terms imaginable, and time and time again, the words had died on her lips, some lingering remnant of dignity silencing her.
He was held back by no such compunctions, and told her exactly what he would do to her, and how it would feel when he did it, making her shut her eyes, and turn away to try to hide her mingled revulsion and excitement. He had not been cruel, exactly. Not cruel. He had just not permitted her anything that she lacked the courage to seize for herself.
Never before had she thought of herself as a coward.
She lay there, raw, humiliated, and seething with frustration, for a long time. Then a strange smile slowly began to form on her lips. She rose and stepped back into her dress, ignoring the ruined underthings, then went to the chest in the corner and took out the pistol he'd given her and taught her to use—the small touches and constant innuendo in the lessons had been the first of many steps in her gradual seduction.
There are no rules.
He was up there, waiting for her to come after him, and prove that she had been an apt pupil after all.
There is no problem that cannot be solved with the right combination of charm, intelligence, and weaponry.
The weight of the pistol felt good in her hand.
Take what you can. Give back nothing.
One becomes a pirate out of desperation, but one remains a pirate for the thrill of it.
She opened the hatch and emerged into the sunlight, eyes glittering.