Author's Note: Thank you all so much for your comments! As promised, a rating change. Though this chapter isn't all that explicit, things will continue to heat up after this ;)
As always, let me know what you think. Next chapter this weekend sometime!
Days passed and the stress of their situation hung like a thick blanket over all her interactions.
Melody's friends who were part of R.O.A.R. had begged the coach to let her onto the team even though she had zero experience and it was several weeks late into the season. But she needed all the practice she could get, and after everyone assured the coach they would get Melody caught up, he agreed.
Harry had stood leaning on his crutches for most of the team practices this week. He watched drill after drill as Melody learned to strafe and parry, smiling when she successfully met an attack, cheering with abandon when she'd finally taken her first point that day against Carlos.
After practice, she waited for Harry outside the tunnel of the athletic complex. He met her there, obediently using his crutches, likely out of fear of her wrath if he didn't.
He looked her up and down and her heart was already speeding up. How was it she responded to him so easily, all it took was the invisible touch of his gaze and she was hungry for his hands on her.
Luckily, Harry was never one to hold back. He greeted her with a fierce embrace, lifting her up off her feet and pressing her against his chest. Whenever he did this, she was reminded of just how big he was. But this time, instead of just setting her on the ground as he normally would, he deliberately let her slide down the full length of his body.
Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to mask what that little movement had done to her insides.
His seductive smile told her he had definitely done it on purpose. "Yer a natural, lass," he said, slipping his arm around her waist. "Carlos didn't see yer blade comin' at all. Yer small and yer quick, if yeh keep usin' yer speed like that, yeh'll fight circles around us."
She felt an overwhelming pride with his words and smiled up at him, raising to her tiptoes to brush a kiss against his cheek.
But of course, she couldn't miss a chance to scold him a bit when he misbehaved. "You know you aren't supposed to lift anything, right?"
"Yer light as a feather. Besides, I feel fine, hardly an ache anymore." He bent his leg, twisted from side to side, and was probably about to pirouette or something ridiculous when she caught his arm.
"Just promise me you'll behave until you see the doctor again."
He pulled out his silver pocket watch and swung it in front of her face. "Seventy-two minutes 'til freedom."
He'd reminded her of the exact amount of time left before he met with the doctor at least twenty times today.
"I promise I'll be good," he said, using his hook to cross his heart. "And if doc says me leg is healed, can I meet yeh on the beach tonight? For a private lesson?" He practically purred on the last few syllables and Melody was suddenly very aware of his closeness, his strong hand on her hip, the press of his leg against hers.
Her voice came as an embarrassing squeak. "Won't it be a bit dark for sword fighting?"
Ugh, he had such control over her body, it was scary.
"I'll build us a fire," he promised, raising a dark eyebrow. "We can grill summat to eat. Make a real Auradon date out of it. I know we've all been so fixed on tryin' to figure out how to beat Sparrow at his game."
His fingers at her waist began circling lightly, an innocent touch that had her leaning into him, yearning for that strong hand to explore a little more. He tilted his head, dark locks falling over those ridiculously blue eyes before he leaned in close. "And I think I can make yer trainin' much more fun than R.O.A.R. practice."
She was very proud of herself for making her mouth form coherent words at that moment. "And if I said I had other plans?"
That villainous grin was out in full force as he spun his hook menacingly. "I'm sure I can convince whoever it is to cancel 'em."
She went back to her own room for a while to finish up some homework for their other classes. She was knee deep in statistics, trying to differentiate modes and medians, when an incoming text buzzed on her desk.
I'm cleared for action. Can we add these crutches to the bonfire tonight?
She smiled and typed out her response. So, no peg leg after all? I'm disappointed, it would have been cute.
I'll show you cute.
I'm sure you will.
See you at 7
Should I bring my practice sword?
Is a frog's arse watertight?
A simple yes would suffice.
He sent a frog emoji with his last response. A simple yes would bore you to tears.
She stuffed her phone in her bag, cheeks aching from the perma-smile he always seemed to cause. Somehow Harry could make her laugh away any worries. He could even get her heart pumping with a simple text message exchange.
She glanced down at Harry's ring on her finger, watching the ocean blue gem at its center ripple and swell, as if moving with the tide.
Seas, she was falling hard.
The minutes passed excruciatingly slow as she finished up her statistics assignment, stopping to check the time on her phone more times than was probably healthy. Then, finally, when the sun had set and twilight had spread its deep purple mantle across the sky out her window, Harry tapped on her door.
She could even recognize his knock now.
Apparently so could Jane. "Your boyfriend's here," she announced with a sing-song teasing quality to her voice. "Probably leaving hook marks in the door again, too."
Jane turned to actually look at Melody, her eyes widening. "Wow, Mel."
She'd changed into a sea green halter and her favorite ripped jeans. The halter was new, and she hoped it flattered her curves in the right places. She'd even used a bit of make-up, highlighting her eyes and her high cheekbones. Judging by Jane's reaction, she'd hit the mark.
Melody grabbed her practice sword on the way out the door and waved to Jane.
"You sure you want to meet a pirate looking like that?" Jane winked.
"Guess I'll have to take my chances," she said. "Night!"
She slipped outside to find Harry gripping the doorframe, his entire muscled arm on display in a sleeveless black coat. He had to know what that position did to his biceps.
Trying to hide the fact that he had her flushed already, she spun to close the door behind her but before she could even fully turn around again, Harry had her pinned against it, one of those arms on either side of her head.
Oh, he definitely knew what he was doing to her.
He pressed his forehead against hers, his hungry gaze pulling heat to every inch of her skin.
"I dinnae think I should take yeh out like that. Could be dangerous for yeh." His eyes drank her in, and he was clearly not afraid to let her see what he thought of her body.
"Not when I've got my big, strong pirate to protect me from those other villains," she said, running her fingers along the lapel of his jacket, inhaling his closeness. She let her fingers skim lower, down to the belt loops of his breeches and she tugged him closer, just to see what he would do.
"It's not other villains I'm worried about, lass." Then his lips, those irresistibly full lips, grazed her jaw and found the delicate spot just behind her ear. Her muscles clenched as a torturous heat streaked through her body and she tilted her head, offering more of her neck for his attention. But the insufferable tease placed just one gentle kiss against her suddenly feverish skin before pulling away again.
Her heart was thrashing against her ribcage as he slid an arm around her waist and led her toward the beach.
Harry stole glances at her all the way down the path, and with each look, she felt a tension building between them. Whenever he playfully pushed her as he made a joke or when his hand brushed against hers as they walked it was like a physical cord connecting them was being pulled taut. And it was now strung dangerously tight. She swallowed, thinking what would happen if that cord snapped.
They arrived at the spot Harry had prepared on the beach. A bonfire was already burning, which he stoked higher with more wood when they arrived. He'd picked up hot dogs and buns, mustard, and seemed pleased to present her with her favorite, a jar of 'devil pickles' as condiments.
They looked for sticks up along the trees by the cliffs to use to roast the hot dogs, and sat by the fire cooking their dinner, talking and laughing.
After they ate, he asked if she'd like a lesson in swordplay. She could tell he'd been dying to be the one to teach her what he knew. It had to have killed him to sit by and let her other friends do the teaching.
She agreed mostly for his sake, then stood, swinging her blade back and forth a few times, slashing the air, experimenting with the balance of the weapon before they began.
"Show me yer ready stance."
Without saying a word, she brought the sword up to her chin and spread her legs for balance.
He let his eyes rove over her from head to toe. Then he shook his head. "That's nae goin' to work. Let's tighten up yer stance."
He stood behind her, tapping her right leg, indicating for her to move it back. "Yer dominant foot should stay behind yeh, with yer sword positioned almost vertically on the strong side. That's the proper ready position."
"Who taught you how to do this?" she asked.
"Me da' wasn't completely useless." And she didn't miss the way his eyes flickered and the angle of his features sharpened. "If I didnae learn fast, I would have been food for the crocs. That's just how it was."
She knew he didn't want her pity, and aside from saying 'I'm sorry' she couldn't really think of a response. So she stayed silent, letting her eyes show she was listening, that she was happy to hear from him. Because she was. Her chest felt lighter knowing he was comfortable opening up to her. Little by little he was sharing pieces of himself.
He reviewed her stance during a lunge attack, discussed the importance of feinting to get your opponent to react, and the parry – the defensive move that 'would save yer skin.' He role-played several different types of attacks and lunges, forcing her to practice each parry until she could see the angle of his sword and react with a block on instinct.
When he was satisfied he'd taken her through every possible situation, position, and reaction and they were both sweating and breathing hard from the effort, he slanted his head and stepped toward her. The firelight played shadows across his cunning smile. "What do yeh say to a real duel?"
But before she could answer, he was coming at her. She saw the trajectory of his first cut toward her shoulder and she parried easily. His eyes lit up, now reflecting a fire beyond the one burning on the shore. He was no longer simply teaching, this was a duel and he wanted to see what she really had.
Adrenaline churned together with that thick tension she'd been feeling since he'd pinned her to the back of her dorm room door. She used it to lunge for him with her blade, slicing at his legs.
He squealed with delight in that eccentric falsetto of his as he bounded aside. "Yer a very fast learner."
The feeling of her heart pounding with exertion, the hint of fear at what could happen if a blow landed wrong, and the frenzied look on Harry's face in this moment had something boiling just below the surface of her skin. It was electrifying.
She rushed forward, using her smaller stature and speed to propel her to his flank before he could turn and she alternated lunges, cutting to each of his sides. He blocked again and again, though each block came a millisecond slower than the last, and soon, she felt the advantage of her speed over his strength.
She heaved her blade across his shoulder. His counter barely connected in time and she pressed down against the sword's edge, trying to force him backward.
That was a mistake.
She watched a slow grin unfurl across his lips as he pushed back easily on her blade with his more substantial strength. "That was nae a wise move, lass," he warned, his gaze as sharp as his weapon. "Yeh had me with yer speed, yeh should have kept at it."
One more push, and a sideways lunge and he had her down in the sand. He'd stripped her of her weapon and had his body pressed against hers, pinning her again.
"I yield," she said, panting, staring into those eyes, squirming under his weight. It was both extremely erotic and uncomfortable at the same time and she wasn't sure how to deal with that disparity.
Despite her admission of defeat, he didn't pull away. Instead, he leaned closer, whispering gruffly against her ear. "You cannae be drawn into a battle of strength. One more of those speedy little side swipes and yeh would have had me."
"Instead, you've buried me in the sand," she joked, trying to make herself think about anything but the way his thigh felt pressed against her. The tension was now drawn so taut between them, she could almost hear it buzzing in her ears.
Harry's eyes were darker in the firelight and his breath came in short pants, shoulders heaving. She could see the flush on his cheeks, feel the tightness in his muscles as he held her pinned by the arms.
Then, the cord snapped. That invisible cord that had been pulled tighter and tighter between them all day finally snapped and Harry kissed her so hard, she thought he would pull all of the breath from her lungs.
She gasped against his firm, insistent caress and her lips parted with her breath. He took full advantage, sliding his tongue past her lips, continuing his slow, thorough invasion of her mouth. The taste of her pirate was an arousing assault on her senses as he swept in to claim her. She felt all of her muscles go soft as a sweet ache bloomed between her thighs. She was his. She'd yielded and her mouth belonged to him and he was making that fact very clear. Every nerve in her body flared to life, then tightened hard, as his tongue made slow, silken caresses alternating with hers in a sensuous pattern of penetration and withdrawal.
Mercifully, he loosened his hold on her wrists, allowing her access to the hard body he had pressed against her. And she couldn't have enough of her hands on his skin. She ran her fingers under his shirt, feeling the hardness of his muscular build, gasping as he readjusted his weight, his thigh now pressed right at the center of the heat he was coiling inside of her.
A guttural, "och," was all Harry could manage as far as words went and his hands were now busy with their exploration of her waist, roving under her top to the tender places at the sides of her breasts.
He hesitated for just a beat, before she encouraged him on, pulling his hands closer to where she wanted, needed to feel him.
"You have permission to touch me, Harry," she breathed, echoing words she'd said at this very same spot next to the very same fire pit not too long ago. She'd wanted to kiss him that night, too. And now, she wanted much more than that.
Her hips moved reflexively as he palmed her breast under her shirt. His calloused hands dragged across her skin, leaving a tingly trail of fire in their wake. And she was lost, looking up at the stars, surf pounding the shore, Harry's breath hot against her ear. The soft sound that escaped her lips then surprised her, but she couldn't help it. She needed more, even with him pressed hard against her, she needed him closer and apparently, she wasn't above whining to get it.
He buried his nose against her ear, his voice ragged. "If you dinnae stop makin' those sounds, lass, I winnae be able to control meself much longer."
"Then don't," she dared, putting her hands on the sides of his face and drawing him back down to her for more of whatever he'd been doing with his tongue.
That fire flared, the heat pooling between her legs and she needed him there. Now.
She canted her hips to increase the pressure between her thighs, and she could feel him hard against her leg now. Harry's sharp intake of breath as she circled her hips, trying to center him on top of her, made his own desire very obvious.
He wanted her, too. Maybe as bad as she wanted him.
The thought spurred her on and she was tugging at his jacket then, trying to find some skin to hold on to, to find some way to get him closer.
"Lass," he breathed, "We shou'dnae do this here, for just anyone to see." But the tone of his voice was so thick and rough with need, his words only magnified her desire for him.
"I don't care who sees." She didn't like how desperate she sounded, but she needed him and it was dark anyway. She was still pulling at his shirt, when he grasped her hand tenderly but firmly.
"I care," he said, and the sincerity in his voice, the raw emotion had her hesitating. "I'm sorry, we shou'dnae, nae in the sand like this, but I wisnae thinkin' straight."
He rolled off of her then, onto his side, still facing her but avoiding her gaze.
Her heart was pounding, yearning and frustration at war in her body as her pulse drummed in her ears, and she tried to understand what she'd done wrong to make him stop. Was it her? Or was there something inside of his own heart holding him back, something in that history of his, the weight Uma said he carried.
She tried to breathe, to lessen the frustrating ache of being denied his touch. Maybe he just wasn't ready for more. It's not like they'd really talked about it yet.
She reached delicate fingers to trace the line of his jaw that was now tensed in frustration. "Don't look away, like that," she said. "It's okay. I can wait until whenever you're ready."
He shook his head, blowing out a breath. "It should be me tellin' yeh that same thing, lass. Jay warned me I should talk to yeh about this first," he admitted, "talk about how much we're comfortable with and all that. And I meant to, I just -"
The ache that had built like fire from his touch had finally started to abate, enough to where she could begin to think.
"I don't think either of us are very good at the talking thing," she said.
"Yer right about that," he said, finally looking back at her, "But we can learn."
And Melody realized, she was probably covered in sand, hair mussed and sticking up every which way, and who could guess at the state of her makeup, but he smiled that wide Harry grin of his anyway. "I brought a blanket, but I 'spose it's a little late for that."
She chuckled and burrowed into him a little closer, nestling into that space against his side, the place she fit so well. "I don't need a blanket, or anything else. Just you, Harry."
He rewarded her honesty with one of his adorable, high-pitched humming sounds and tightened his hold on her.
They listened to the soft rumble of the waves and the crackle of the fire as they stared up at the stars together. She let her eyes close, enjoying his warmth and the comfort of his rhythmic breathing.
"Whenever I've been with someone before," Harry finally said, his voice soft as though he wasn't sure how to start this conversation, "there werenae any feelin's involved. It was just, yeh know."
She tried to stamp down any thoughts of jealousy or inadequacy his confession brought up, instead, focusing on how he was feeling.
"Then this is new for both of us, because I'm sure you've guessed I have little experience, besides kissing," she said running light fingers over the back of Harry's hand that was draped over her. "But I want to do more than that. With you."
She gazed hard into his eyes, knowing full well that they would pull her in, make her want more of his touch than he was ready to give.
"I just dinnae want to rush yeh is all," he said.
"Seems like I was the one doing the rushing tonight," she said, nuzzling into his jacket.
He reached his arm around to tug playfully on her hair and their eyes locked again. "Yer just so beautiful, Melody. I want to treat yeh properly. Like yeh deserve."
He'd used her real name. Not lass, but Melody.
"Then next time, touch me properly," she said. "When you're ready of course."
He laughed at that and she traced those beautiful smile lines with her fingers before leaning over to kiss him. She hoped the tenderness of her touch, the way she took her time and stroked his hair, was proof enough that she cared for him. That he could trust her.
And she was most certainly ready for more with him. Definitely touching – she was ready for him to touch her everywhere. And maybe tasting, too – those lips in that place. With the way her body responded to him now, she couldn't imagine how amazing those things might be. She made a mental note to make an appointment at the Health Center. In case she found herself ready for… well, for more.
She kissed him once more, a chaste peck for good measure before she settled back into her favorite spot against him. "At least your leg is healed," she said, "you didn't seem to have a problem with any of today's activities."
"Aye, which means I have some pixie dust to nick soon."
"You? You have some pixie dust to nick?" She cocked her head and offered him a scowl. "Try we. We are going to steal some pixie dust from your father."
And when he pushed himself up onto his elbow and returned her frown, she knew they were going to finish this date with another heated discussion. She could only hope it would be followed by another round of fun in the sand to make up.
A mermaid could dream.
