"So, about that muscle memory?"
Killian feels her warm whisper against the back of his neck and her arms sliding around his waist before he realizes that she's there on his own.
"Are you starting to feel it yet…or do we need more practice?"
Bloody hell, she's a siren. There's no other way to explain her, this one.
He swallows hard, certain that the tint to his cheeks would be more than obvious if she were to look. He always has been shy around beautiful women, a fact that Captain Blackbeard certainly isn't shy about having a hearty laugh at his expense about on the rare occasion that they make port and he is allowed to join the men on shore, but this-
"I feel it," he admits with an obvious gulp, closing his eyes as he allows her to guide his arm once again in foreign motions. "I think."
Being completely honest, he isn't sure what he feels, but he can feel something with her, and even with the boy.
(Bloody hell, who is the boy to him?)
He can feel it in the firm, sure way that she touches him. Slipping behind and fitting herself to him, taking ahold of his sword with a confidence that can't be fabricated. She knows him. He can hear it in the teasing purr to her tone that sends shivers down his spine.
A lowly deckhand and a coward he may be, but he is yet a man among his other titles (no matter what the Captain may infer about his nether regions), and he recognizes the note of lascivious intent in a woman's voice when he hears it. Much more, familiarity lingers in her playful taunts and featherlight caresses. No bar wench with sweeping curls and bouncing bosom spilling from her corset as she serves him ale has ever roused such a feeling of oneness inside of him, as if they were two parts of a whole instead of separate beings that have hardly met.
Their connection, whatever name it may be known by in this other world of hers (lover? husband?), he can feel it vibrating between them as she guides his arm and he knows her as well.
(Gods, he wants to know more.)
"So."
She leads him in a move resembling a parry to an invisible attacker.
"So?" she repeats, amused.
"In exactly… which terms…" He sucks in a sharp breath as her hand slides across his belly for the briefest moment to correct his posture, moving back to rest at his hip. "How do we know each other?"
"Hmm?"
"Friends? Neighbors? Perhaps," he pauses as she moves his arm in another complicated range of motions that he recognizes from seeing the crew in a number of bouts, yet still feels oddly acquainted with for a first lesson. "Perhaps, like a brother and a sister?"
Her laugh is musical and he's quite certain that she's laughing at him directly, but he can't care if it means listening to that sound and feeling those flutters in his chest that she awakens.
"What do you think?"
Bloody hell. That was undeniably her lips brushing the shell of his ear.
"Well," he squeaks, clearing his throat and letting out a nervous chuckle. "Now, I would say that I'm beginning to doubt it."
She laughs again, stepping back abruptly and letting go of his arm, causing him to nearly drop his sword. His blush deepens as he gathers himself, sheathing the weapon and scratching at his ear. She smirks, pleased - for what reason he isn't aware - and shakes her head without dropping eye contact.
"Good guess, Sailor."