The humidity hung heavy as rain poured. Mary and Edward had the manor at Great Inagua to themselves, their crews busy and sheltered at the tavern and brothel. The doors and windows were wide open, as if the damp evening air outside was any cooler than inside. It served no other purpose than to trick the mind, and a feeble trick at that. Both had taken to their undergarments, for once without the initial intent to further disrobe.
"I cannot remember a storm so bloody warm," Mary groused. She wiped sweat from her brow, immediately replaced. Her head scarf was soaked and having her hair up in a taught bun gave no respite. She was no stranger to the humidity of the West Indies, but this was positively ridiculous. She stood in front of the french doors leading to the deck that overlooked the sea. She could barely make out the masts of her and Edward's ships through the thick haze of rain. The trees and bushes whipped around madly.
"Whingeing doesn't suit you," Edward came up behind her, bottle in hand. He took a swig from it and handed it to her. Rum. He ran his fingers fleetingly over the side of her neck. By impulse her head tilted the opposite way, encouraging him to continue. "The heat won't trouble you so if you keep it out of mind," his lips brushed her throat. She contained a sigh at that particular touch. Couldn't have him thinking she was so swayed. "Allow me to offer distraction," he murmured into her ear and teased the lobe with his teeth. His hand snaked around, gliding across the subtle indent of her waist and down her hip. His hand splayed on her thigh, his thumb brushing the inner part through fabric. Mary leaned back into him ever slightly.
"By making me even more hot and bothered?" she smirked as Edward's lips made their way down her neck, his hands grabbing at her.
"If you prefer I not…" he began to draw away. She turned around and pulled him back towards her, their bodies flush.
"Where do you think you're goin'?" she kissed him roughly, one arm hooked around his neck, rum bottle still in grasp. The other hand found purchase in his hair, tugging a bit the way she knew they both liked. Edward's hands wasted no time in supporting her ass and lifting her off the ground, an action she would never let him know she adored. He carried her to the closest horizontal surface: du Casse's solid, fancy desk. Mary set the bottle down an arm's length from them.
With the heat and their impending actions, it was only a matter of seconds before they began undressing one another - undoing laces and drawstrings. Edward drank from their bottle of rum and kissed Mary hungrily. She enjoyed the warm taste of alcohol on his tongue and nipped at his lower lip. He gave a small growl, a hand finding her breasts. He leaned between her open legs with her at the edge of the desk, her hips canted forward. Her grasping hands found purchase across the muscles of his back, his shoulders. Mary hooked one calf around his leg, pulling him as close as possible. As they continued, she found her actions more aggressive than his, her desire more palpable. She reminded herself that the months between their meetings Edward had probably physically indulged himself on more than one occasion with unnamed whores and copious amounts of alcohol. Away from Edward, Mary found herself frustrated and abstinent; hiding one's gender was not conducive to sexual activity.
"A-ah, not so fast," Edward scolded on a breath, pulling away from her lips and moving to her jawline.
More often than not Mary was the instigator of sex and deviance. She found she enjoyed having a certain level of control, it kept her at ease. In the bedroom (but not always outside it) Edward was often happy to oblige her in her desires for dominance. It seemed this instance he had other plans.
He leaned her back, pressing aggressive kisses into her throat and down her neck until she was lying on the desk. He made his way down, nipping and sucking at her collar bone. One of his calloused hands ran up her thigh, hiking it up so he could better be between her legs. His other hand thumbed a hardened nipple as his lips made their way to the other. Mary herself was surprised at the mewling sound that escaped her throat, body writhing with want beneath him.
"I like that sound," he murmured; she felt his lips form a smirk against her skin.
"Then keep doin' that," she breathed. His mouth continued its task, but the hand at her breast moved down her ribs and muscled stomach to slide between them. He grazed his fingers over her sex, feeling how wet she was for him. He teased the entrance and his fingers skimmed over her clit. Mary let out a small moan. At every small sound she made she could feel his lips curl up ever so slightly. She clutched at his hair, nearly pulling. Lust was readily building in her, his ministrations were near to torture, the movements of his hand so fleeting yet slow.
"You're a big fuckin' tease," she accused, her voice strained and breathy. Edward lifted his head.
"A position I find I enjoy," his eyes traveled from her flushing face and leisurely made their way downward to her body restless with her need for him. He inserted just a knuckle and her hips jumped forward. "I must say, I enjoy having the control for a change." He began to kiss and lick her body, slowly backing off the desk as he made his way down.
"Don't make me regret it," Mary smirked. His mouth found her hip and bit as he fully inserted two fingers. She found the cry that escaped her was practically involuntary.
"Something tells me you won't." He got to his knees and swirled his tongue around her clit, then sucking gently. He licked down her slit, teasing the entrance. His hands held down her hips and the sounds kept coming from her. She whined as his tongue worked her over. Lips focused on her clit, he fingered her.
"Oh you cheeky bastard," she panted. He made a hum of laughter that she felt on his tongue. Her hips jerked into the movements of his fingers, one leg hooked over his shoulder, his hand on her thigh. After all the time that had passed since she last had any sexual pleasure, she wasn't sure how much more she could take before cumming. Edward taking control turned her on more than she ever expected it to. She didn't even care that he was enjoying mercilessly torturing her with the magic of his mouth and hands…. When suddenly the stimulation was gone. She let out an involuntary whine, which his lips captured. She kissed him hungrily, pressing her tongue to his mouth and sighing when he sucked on it. He made her ache in the most excruciating way, an ache eased as he maneuvered himself inside her. Her short nails scraped at his back when they moved together, drawing lines of blood; Mary found a certain satisfaction in marking him hers.
With a hand on her chest to keep her in place, he raised his torso until he was standing, her legs pulled to the edge of the desk. He lifted one of her legs so her knee was bent over his shoulder, his arm wrapped around her thigh. He moved hard and fast, both vocal and breathless. Mary grasped for purchase on the desk and found nothing, save the rum bottle which she succeeded in knocking to pieces on the floor. Neither cared and she managed to reach above her and grab the edge for leverage.
"You've got more than that," she challenged, barely able to form the words, eyes shut and neck arched. She was well on her way to, if not already in, bliss. She could never quite keep her mouth shut. Edward obliged her, moving into her with fervor. She wrapped one leg around his ass to pull him deep. "Harder," she growled. He obeyed with a small chuckle and Mary felt herself coming undone not long after he took her instruction. "Fuck, Edward," she whined with several thrusts. One of his hands wedged itself beneath the small of her back and raised her up to sitting to his mouth could crash to hers as they began to finish. They were all teeth and tongues as their moans melted in each others' mouths. The aftershocks of their mutual orgasm was strong. Mary detached her lips and put them to his neck, delivering wet kisses to his throat and shoulder as his hips continued to move lazily. She responded in kind, their lips finding each other again. It scared Mary how much she could feel in the deep kisses she shared with Edward, like all of his feelings were delivered to her with the movement of his mouth. She was scared he could feel just how much she cared with her own movements.
The continuous lazy roll of Edward's hips inside her had them both worked up again. Yet as their actions continued, Mary found herself in no fervent hurry like almost every time they had sex. He moved slowly and she responded in rhythm. He laid her down again, their lips never parting. She drew his body close with an arm round his neck, the other on his back, embracing him. His hand was still under her at the small of her back, the other fingering through her hair that had come loose from her bun. It dawned on her with terrifying clarity that what they were currently doing wasn't fucking or even sex: it was making love. She wasn't sure she was ready for something so intimate, but yet she must be because it was happening. She didn't have time to second-guess their actions or worry about the implications of what they were doing. In moments they found themselves tethered and in sync. She could feel the affection Edward had for her, how deeply he cared, and not just in the tender way he moved. She felt it in his kiss, in his hands, his cock. She didn't dare to imagine it could be love she felt emanating from him, but it certainly resembled what she hoped it was like. Their pleasure was quieter. The finished together a second time, this orgasm lasting longer than the first. She bit his bottom lip, unable to control herself with so many waves of pleasure. Both were breathless when he removed himself from her. Edward laid his head upon her chest, arms around her.
"I missed you," Edward breathed. Mary held him tighter. She couldn't bring herself to vocally reciprocate. She was covered in a sticky film of sweat, the air still stifling around them. Despite the discomfort, she felt panicked at the desperation that made her curse the idea of ever having to leave his arms. She knew she would - no matter how many times Edward and Mary found each other they always parted ways. Sometimes their meetings felt more bitter than sweet once the thought of their separation settled into her mind. Her arms held him closer.
Edward propped himself up on an elbow, looking down at her. He stroked stray hair from her face. "Is something troubling you?" he asked. "You keep clutching at me."
"Nothin'," she answered casually, feeling an ache as her arms left him and he let her slide out from beneath. "Mind your feet," she said, carefully stepping around the bottle shattered during their passionate activities. Not bothering with her underthings, Mary slipped on her breeches and flung her dingy white shirt around her shoulders, leaving the front open. She went out to the balcony and fell into a chair. The deck was wet with rain blown in under the awning, a tepid spray misting on her face. Edward followed her outside after clothing his bottom half. He leaned in the doorway, eyes fixed on her. Mary looked to the storm still raging around them.
"Is there something you'd like to say, Kenway?" she asked after several minutes. She drew one knee up to her body, foot resting on the chair's seat.
"Not a word. You?"
She moved her eyes in his direction and met his own: those fucking blue eyes bright with the spark of his ever working mind. That gaze probed her, gauging her emotions, her demeanor. He was excellent at reading people to the point of talent. Mary set her jaw, determined not to let him decipher her so easily. She turned her focus back to the wind and rain.
After several more minutes of silence, Edward spoke again: "Did I do or say something?" His tone was flat, curious, probing.
"You can't say things like that," she replied moodily. She didn't want to be talking about this, this thing that involved her emotions. They made her uncomfortable, made her feel weak and vulnerable. She couldn't look at him when she spoke.
"What did I say?" his tone confused. He left the doorway and sauntered over to her, taking a seat on the stool beside her.
"That you missed me."
"I only told you what was true."
"Well don't. Saying things like that…. It implies things, certain emotions. I don't want you to feed me that shite."
"What makes you think what I feel is shite, Mary? Why can I not mean it when I say I miss you? Why can't it be the truth that I love you?"
Mary swallowed thickly. Her eyes scanned his face, calculating, wondering if she could trust the sincerity of his words. It was Edward, she could trust Edward… She'd lost track of the times he had proven loyal and helped her fight off pesky Red Coats; not to mention the few times he'd gotten her out of a tight pinch; plus the one time he facilitated her escape from a holding cell… and yet somehow trusting him with her life was easier than trusting him with her heart.
He reached out a hand to touch her forearm. His fingers traced over a scar there, as they always did; he always lingered at her many markings.
She felt a pang of weakness as the words left her lips, but she had to ask, "An' what about yer wife?" Her tone was guarded.
"I've told you, she left me some time ago."
"You still wanted to bring her here, don't you remember sayin' that?"
"Ay, I wanted to then. No now. Things are different." His hand slid down her wrist to twine his fingers with her own. She searched his face. Mary relaxed and gave a small smile, more in her eyes than on her lips. "Now come here." She stood up and he pulled her over to his lap. She placed a leg on either side of him and he drew her close.
"You're not just tellin' me what you think a woman wants to hear, are ya, you dog?" she asked cheekily. He chuckled and kissed her.
"Course not; you'd unman me for sayin' such things."
"Good lad," she smirked and captured his lips hungrily, unsure what she was ever afraid of when it came to Edward.