Disclaimer: Any character or places from Peter Pan belong to J.M. Barrie and his heirs. However we do own our Ocs, please do not take them.
Author's Note: And we're back! Thanks for the lovely feedback, do keep it coming. Hope you're all enjoying yourselves, we certainly are ^_^
Rose was careful to close the door softly behind her, not wanting to alert any of the crew to another presence rushing out of the captain's cabin. The later afternoon sun was warm, the sky clear of any cloud. Off in the distance, she could see the edge of night moving steadily towards them. For a moment she was taken aback, day and night sharing the sky, it was an awe inspiring sight. The stars with their oddly familiar constellations were bright and twinkling before her, the golden rays of the sun behind. She wondered at that, looking upon the form of Leo, for only a moment. Curiosities would have to wait until later, she needed to find her girlfriend. On the shady side of the ship, where night was beginning to take hold, the deck was lit by large oil lamps, the orange glow illuminating the polished woods yet casting long shadows at the same time. It was within one of these shadows that she spied the outline of a figure leaning on the railing. She slowly descended the stairs, looking around for any of the crew. None were visible, the only hint to another person was the faint tune of a flute from high in the crow's nest. Cautiously, she approached Abigail.
"Sweetheart," she called softly, "are you angry with me?"
"Not at you, love." Abigail slid one hand from the railing, reached out behind her, fingers opening and closing impatiently, beckoning for Rose to take them in hers. She did not make her wait, clasping her hand in hers and leaning into her side, resting her head on her bare shoulder.
"Would you like to talk about it?"
"Not just yet," the younger witch's voice was calm and cool. "I just want to feel you with me for for a little while."
Rose nodded, kissing her hand and looking out at the distant night sky. The days would grow shorter in time, how would this magical sky appear then? She saw again how the stars formed familiar shapes and wondered again how that was possible. It was summer back home, and though she had no way of knowing what might count as a date here, the constellations of the lion, crab and hydra were the same.
"Counting stars again?"
"Observing them, they are same as they were back home."
"Interesting."
They remained in silence for a time, Abigail threading an arm around Rose's waist and dropping a kiss on her forehead. The elder worried for her lover, but did not seek to pry. If space was needed, then she was happy to give it. But that did not stop a hundred horrid scenarios from running through her overactive imagination.
"Stop thinking, flower, you'll work yourself up."
"I'll try not to, promise."
Abigail subsided once more into silence, watching the sky change and cycle through its vibrant colours. Rose opened and closed her mouth several times, trying to find the right words but failing each time.
"I know you have something to say, you always do."
"When you put it like that it makes me sound like a smart alec."
"You are very intelligent, you know this." Abigail cracked a smile, "And besides, I'm more likely to use the phrase smartass."
"From you that's quite the compliment," Rose smirked. "I'm just at a loss for words...what happened back there? Gods what did I do?" She turned a bright red and looked away.
"No, no, no," Abigail shook her head, curls rippling down her back, "Not you. Gods, not you."
"I tried to make him come out here, he wouldn't listen to me. Then I thought you might be angry with me, and he's angry with me….what are we going to do?"
"No, I'm not…" Abigail's voice trailed away, "Wait, why is he angry with you?"
"I might have...accused him of….having feelings."
"Oh the horror," Abigail smirked, a genuine glint of amusement in her pale eyes.
"In my defense he's the one who asked if we were even real! If that doesn't speak of unsaid...something..then I don't know what does," she said fiercely then pouted.
"No, you're right," the younger sorceress acknowledged, "The fault is his. What a surprise."
"I feel like a teenage fangirl who just got a harsh dose of reality," Rose sighed. "What do we do now?"
"You feel like a fangirl and I feel like a bitch." Abigail flashed a dazzling smile, "Oh wait…" She winked and her smile slipped slightly. "I ought to apologize, oughtn't I?"
"That might be a good idea," she brought an arm about her waist to hold her close. "If it makes you feel any better I told him to apologize to you as well. That was an experience."
"I bet it was," grey-blue eyes avoided hazel ones and stared out across the water. "But I won't apologise until he does. I won't go crawling back to him, pleading for forgiveness."
"What if neither of you have to actually say it out loud? I can attempt to mediate, say that you both wish to reconcile and all you have to do is agree. Because heaven forbid James Hook admit he did something stupid."
"I doubt that would work," Abigail's lip curled. "He'll appeal to your good graces and I'll end up making the situation worse. Though….." She took a moment to consider a new notion, an innocent smile on her face as she said carelessly, "Do you think he's the type for hate sex?"
"Really?" Rose knew her mouth must be hanging open by now but didn't really care. "He just finished drilling me into the chaise and you're ready to bait him into hate sex?"
"I am a woman of no morals," the dark-haired witch said with an idle shrug.
"I'm going to need lots of consoling after this."
"You're going to need it?" The younger witch scoffed, "With the blow I gave to his pride? He'll be the one in need of comfort."
"Oh I know, he tried as much right before I left the cabin. I just don't want that claw of his ruining more than just the upholstery."
"I'm sure he could find many uses for that claw," diverting the conversation with innuendo was Abigail's specialty.
"We have only the clothes on our backs, I think we should at least give the appearance of keeping them in one piece," the elder witch blushed at her own words. "Do you think it's safe to go back inside?"
"Probably for you," the words were accompanied by the shrug of one pale shoulder.
"Shall we go back to our room then? Those walls aren't terribly thick," she looked up through half lidded eyes. "I'm sure he could hear quite clearly should we entertain ourselves without him."
"Tormenting the man with sounds of pleasure while he is left alone seems rather cruel, sweet Rose," Abigail pretended to scold her before her eyes glinted, "Sounds like something I would suggest."
"What can I say? You're a terrible influence on me."
"Perfectly horrid," Abigail agreed, her free hand finding one of Rose's breasts.
"Temptation incarnate," she agreed, feeling for the hem of her dress. "To the bedroom?"
"To tease the captain," the taller woman added, pulling Rose after her towards their cabin under the quarterdeck. They giggled, a little ominously as they barreled through the heavy portal, locking it behind them. Abigail's back hit the door, Rose's lips crashing against hers. She shoved her flimsy skirt up to her waist, pulled her panties down around her knees. Breaking their kiss, she held her fingers up to her lover's red lips. Abigail's tongue darted out, lapping and licking them as though she were savoring a sweet. When they were slick, Rose pulled her hand away to delve between her legs. She found her clit easily, swirling her fingertips around the tight bud and pulling little mewling sounds from Abigail in reward.
Pale arms snaked around Rose's neck, deft hands made quick work of the tied halter bodice. Full breasts tumbled free, caught and fondled, she arched into their hold. Abigail tweaked and pinched at her nipples until they grew taut and hard. She trailed kisses down her lover's throat, she could feel her frantic pulse beneath her lips. Lower she went, until she suckled the pink tip of one breast. Rose moaned aloud. And then dropped to her knees.
"Minx." Abigail looked down at her beloved, bare breasted and lusty, as she pulled her underwear down her legs, tossing it over her shoulder.
"Always." Rose rand her cheek over the soft flesh of her thigh, breathing deep the heady scent of her arousal.
They were drunk on one another. The hazel eyed sorceress ran her long nails through the curls at the apex of her thighs, touching herself and shivering with little jolts of pleasure. And she knew she was being watched, could hear the sharp intake of breath as her lover watched her hand disappeared between her legs.
"Are you wet?"
"Oh yes," she nipped the tender skin just shy of her slit. Abigail hissed, her hands delving into her long hair, her tight nearly painfully tight. Rose gasped, goosebumps raising over her body. They both were weak for ecstasies blended with pain, eager to leave their mark on the other.
"If you intend to please me down there, you better get to it or I'll have you on your back in no time," she jerked Rose's head, bringing her mouth to her aching core. Rose hummed in delight, licking and tasting her. She drew her tongue along the slick lips, pressing at her entrance and laving at her clit in quick flicks that sent tremors up her lover's body. Her free hand snaked up her inner thigh, scratching here and there, drawing bright red lines on pale white flesh. Slender fingers spread her lower lips wide, exposing her wet cunt to the cool air and Rose's probing tongue. One finger toyed at her opening, dipping one knuckle deep, then pulling away, then pressing deeper again. Over and over she did this, and Abigail rolled her hips against her, trying to pull her inside. Rose chuckled against her.
"Say please."
"Not that easily," Abigail shuddered and bit her lip.
Rose sucked hard at her clit and she let out a high keening noise.
"For our captain."
She thought of him, in the very next room, how he might have already heard them.
"Please! I want to feel you inside me," she grinned as she cried out, remembering how she said that to him so many times in their dreams. And she found herself moaning loudly soon after, as Rose pressed one digit within her, curling and hitting that sweet spot that sent her eyes rolling back. Every lap of her tongue was matched with a pump of her finger. Her lover was breathing hard as well, looking down she saw Rose's hand working furiously between her own legs. She wanted to taste her. "On your feet," she panted. Rose looked up, her lips glistening, eyes darkened and cheeks flushed.
"You haven't cum."
"I want you on the bed."
She came to her feet and they all but tore their dresses from one another in their haste. They fell upon the narrow bed in a tangle of limbs and desperate kisses. The headboard slammed back against the wall, a loud bang that echoed in the room and was surely heard in the large cabin nearby. Rose landed on her side, auburn hair spilling across the white sheets. Abigail knelt, looking down upon her, illuminated by the moonlight. She lay down on her side as well, head towards the footboard. Her thighs opened wide, soft hands curled around them Rose's eager mouth fell upon her again. She groaned, shuddering and whimpering at the heat that was building low in her core. Roughly she spread her lover's legs, pulled her tightly against her, her head cradled by her soft thighs and ran her tongue up the dripping slit. Rose cried out, her sweet voice muffled and mewling. So Abigail did it again, savoring the taste of her.
And then nearly shrieked as Rose sucked hard on her clit.
"Too slow," Rose scolded.
Abigail did not have to be told twice. Done with any light caresses, she wanted to hear the passion filled screams of her girlfriend as she buried her face between her legs. Rose returned the favor.
It was a contest, who could bring the other to orgasm faster. But no matter how devoted they were to the task, their lips would fall away from sweet flesh to loose cries of ecstasy which echoed out the open window. Rose began to tremble first, her pale legs quivering, her breath turning to a rough pant that had her full bosom rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm.
"Yes," Abigail blew her cool breath over her heated quim and giggled darkly at the little mewling noises she made. "Let him hear you."
"Oh gods," her hands clung to her fiercely, sure to leave marks come morning.
"I remember a dream where I was eating your pussy and he was fucking your mouth, remember that?" Rose could not form words, plunging two fingers inside her instead and Abigail let out a throaty laugh.
"Wouldn't you just love to do that now?" She scissored her fingers inside her hazel eyed lover, enjoying how her hips rocked in tandem with her prying digits. Her tongue swirled around her sensitive nub, pressing hard and flicking with quick little motions. Rose was desperately toying with her too, their sounds of pleasure rising together.
"As if you wouldn't want the same," she gasped, pumping her fingers in and out of her cunt, curling them to hit her sweet spot over and over. Abigail let out a long, heady moan that was music to Rose's ears. She drove her up and up, their sweat slicked bodies rubbing against each other, the scent of sex heavy in the air.
In the end, they came crashing down together. All desperate cries and trembling bodies clutching to each other as the aftershocks ran like lightning through them both. For some time they lay there, immobile and limp, basking in the glow of satisfaction. The younger moved first, slowly turning her still shaking body to lay in line with the elder's. They helped one another lay out on sheets, gently easing one another down from their blissful height, leaving trails of gentle kisses and soft caresses along the way. Rose opened her arms and Abigail lay within them, her head pressed to her breast right above her heart.
"Do you think he heard?" Rose whispered, her voice a little hoarse from her loud moaning, her long nails running down her spine and making her shiver.
"Oh I think so," Abigail smiled and kissed her nipple, delighting in how she twitched under her.
"I shall sleep well, knowing that."
Abigail rose early, for once. The sun streaming through the porthole warmed her face and she stretched lazily. There was a deep ache in her bones which told her she had slept very deeply. Rose was nestled against her shoulder, one arm thrown over her waist, still very fast asleep. Her breast rose and fell with a gentle rhythm and Abigail looked down at her sweet face with a fond smile. Her fingers stroked Rose's auburn hair and Rose mumbled something in her sleep. Abigail smiled and disentangled herself from her lover's arms, rising from the bed. She slipped into her summer dress, the clothing stiff from the salt of the sea air. But it was the only covering she had on this ship and would wear it for as long as necessary.
She slipped from the cabin, barefoot with hair unbound, and moved silently across the deck. Cecco stood at the helm, dozing. She crept past him. His eyes cracked open and she placed a finger to her lips, to which he nodded and dozed off again.
The door to the Captain's cabin opened easily and closed silently behind her. The sunlight filtered lazily through the window-panes, casting a soft golden glow across everything. It was quiet and seemed empty. She took a step into the room. There, on the raised sleeping gallery of his cabin, thrown across his expansive bed, was the body of James Hook. He was deeply asleep, his chest rising and falling. His hook had been discarded and hung on the far corner of the headboard, within reach if necessary, but not lashed to his torso.
The wooden steps to the balcony, though carpeted with lush red wool, still creaked ever so slightly as she put her weight upon them. But the pirate did not stir, so she crept ever closer. She moved to the side of the mattress opposite him and carefully tucked the hem of her skirt under her as she slowly perched on the edge of the mattress.
Even in sleep, James Hook did not look peaceful. There was a tightness to his jaw, clenching his teeth as he inhaled, and a deep furrow between his brow. Dark curls spilled across the red coverlet and she was tempted to trail her fingertips across his brow, to smooth away the wrinkles of his worry as he slept.
The shifting of the mattress from the added weight stirred the pirate. He inhaled sharply, his instincts prickling the back of his neck as he blearily looked around to see what had awoken him. He caught a glimpse of the sorceress from the corner of his eye and twisted, pushing himself up and away from her to sit up. She sat near to his hook, if he wanted to reach for it, he would have to move through her.
"I am sorry to disturb your sleep," she said quietly, her low voice subdued in the empty cabin.
"You didn't seem to be so concerned last night," he responded at once, his voice rough and ragged from sleep.
Her hair was unbound, he noticed. She did not wear the strange clip to pull the curls away from her face, and her locks spilled over her shoulders and bosom. There was something about the way the sunlight was falling across the drapes behind her that gave her face a soft, youthful glow. Her eyes were a bright, sparkling blue and he swallowed. She was beautiful. So was her lover. But the two of them were alone.
And there was tension between them. The residual strain from the evening before stretched between them and he was compelled to do something to break the stillness. He pushed himself to his feet, rubbing his stump distractedly and looking down at her. She did not move, barely blinked, only continued to watch him with her pale eyes.
He cleared his throat, "Can I offer you some refreshment, Madam?"
"No," she said, her voice still the same soft, quiet tone as before, "No refreshment, no distractions, just us."
"Just us?" He echoed, painfully aware of the implications of such a phrase coming from a scantily clad woman lounging upon his bed. Granted, she was not lounging so much as sitting expectantly. He had foregone his boots and his shirt when he had thrown himself across his bed the night before to satisfy himself in tandem with the moans and cries he could hear from the ladies' cabin. He stood before one of those ladies now in naught but his loosened breeches and she in little more than a shift. He twitched within his pants in spite of himself.
She rose, breasts swelling with her inhale. He forcibly stopped himself from any sort of fidgeting, standing as still as he could as she stepped toward him. She moved within his sphere of personal space, looking up at him from under her thick lashes.
"I was correct in what I said yesterday," she said. He made to step away but her hand reached out to press against the lean muscle of his warm chest. "But I did not admit that I spoke from my own experiences."
His jaw clenched as he looked down at her.
"I accused you of using sex as a way to distract yourself from the loneliness of your being," she said, dropping her eyes to look at where her pale fingers splayed against his tanned chest, "But I neglected to acknowledge that the reason I blamed you for it was because I do the same. I have a suspicion that you and I are quite similar, Captain, and I suppose I was not exactly in the best form yesterday in my allegations against you."
"Is this your way of apologizing, my lady?"
"I admit, I'm not very good at it," she confessed with a scrunch of her nose.
"Well, I might admit," he said, "I also might have been excessively vicious in my responses to you as well. I believe that you would be correct in thinking that the two of us are incredibly similar."
She flashed a quick, shy smile. This was a new side of her that he had yet to see. Her sharp tongue was not wounding his pride, there was no glint to her blue eyes that spoke of her cruel wit. In this light, in this morning, in this moment, she was softer, gentle, more delicate. Fragile, he thought, fragile in the way that something which had already been broken was susceptible to more cracks. It was a vulnerability that he knew intimately well, it was the brittleness of his own being that he saw reflected within her and he felt the distressing flutter of feelings in his black heart. His fingers lifted to brush across her cheek and her blue eyes flicked upward to meet his.
Her lips were perfect for kisses, he noticed. Of course, in their dreams, he had taken his fill of kisses but she was standing here before him, revealing some part of her hidden tenderness that silently pleaded with him to kiss her, to kiss her concern away. So he did.
It was gentle, his arms sliding around her, enveloping her in his strength and his comfort. He bent his head with a slowness that allowed her to pull away if she wished, but she made no move to do so, only pressed herself closer. Their lips met, a soft sweet brush against the other's and he held her to his chest. His fingers stroked her riotous curls and her hand crept up to cup his cheek. He lost himself in the feel of her mouth, the soft press of her body, the tenderness of the embrace. He had not been held in such a gentle manner for longer than he could remember. Nigh three-hundred years since anyone had touched him or kissed him with compassion or gentleness. He clung to her like she was keeping him afloat and she, not needing an explanation to why his arms tightened around her because she understood, held him. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and inhaled deeply.
He stood with her now, without his hook and without his brace. His arm was bare, he did not wear the armour and the weapon of The Hook. He stood there just as he was, nothing more and nothing less. In this moment, he was not Hook. He was just James. And she accepted him for what he was.
They didn't know how to apologise with their words. Words failed them when they were anything less than threats and silver courtesies. So they made their apologies with their bodies. His bed welcomed them and they worked together to free each other of what little fabric was left separating them. Her dress was cast to the carpet, his breeches were dropped to the side, and they looked at each other. They had seen each other more times than they could count in their dreams but now they could touch and truly feel. He ran his hand down her arm; her skin was soft and pale. He felt profane, touching something so beautiful with his blasphemous hand - a hand which had drawn blood and destroyed now caressed with wonder a woman who was too beautiful and broken for him to ever have deserved.
She looked up at him, blue eyes meeting blue eyes as she took in the sight of him - scarred and maimed and beaten down, and yet filled with grace and elegance. She ran her fingers down his other arm - the one ending in the stump. Instantly, he drew away.
"James," she protested gently. He looked down at her, bare and earnest, and he hesitantly returned his stump to her touch. She bent her head to press a soft kiss to the scarred flesh and bone and he released a soft sigh. His stump ought never to touch that which had been blessed - his very touch corrupted and destroyed. But she pulled him closer, winding her arms around him, and he drank in her beauty. He sank down again upon the bed, kissing his way from her lips to her breasts. Full and soft, he pressed his sea-roughened skin into her pale flesh, taking her nipple into his mouth with a tender suck. She gasped, her spine arching to press her breast further against his face. Her hand came up to cradle the back of his head, threading her fingers through his curls, and his own hand rested securely at the curve of her waist, pulling her torso against him so that he could savour her in all the ways he wished.
He could smell her arousal and when he looked up at her face, her pupils were wide and dark. Her lip was plump and red from where she had bitten it in her pleasure and his head dipped between her legs to taste her. His tongue brushed across her clit and she gasped, her thighs spreading even wider, offering herself to him. She tasted of lust, of the musky desire that lurks in the pit of one's stomach. She tasted of woman, of the heady power that women wield over men. She tasted of dreams, of the unions in Dreamland which had brought them all together to begin with.
His fingers slid inside of her and her head fell back against the pillows. He caressed the inside of her sex, searching. When his fingers found the sweet spot inside of her, she let out a low keen, tightening around his fingers. Some part of him was content simply to bring her to pleasure, to make this his apology, to give her ecstasy and to himself go without.
But then she looked down at him, her cheeks flushed, her eyes bright, glowing with the beauty of bliss, and she whispered her plea "James, please."
He could refuse her nothing. He could refuse neither of the women and he knew it. So he took her into his arms and pressed his manhood inside of her. He caught her moan with his mouth and she clutched him closer as she tasted herself on his lips and tongue. His strokes were sure and steady. They had all the time in the world, there was no need to rush. This was their apology to each other. Her gasps of pleasure, pressed against his neck, were music to his ears and when her head fell back, her eyes fluttering with the pleasure he was giving to her, he pressed kisses to her throat.
He laid her back upon the mattress, his hand once more touching her reverently as his hips moved carefully to thrust within her. Her legs wrapped around his waist to pull him deeper.
"I am not fragile," she whispered to him, pale face framed by dark curls. "There is no need for you to be gentle."
"I do not wish to hurt you," he replied, surprising even himself with his tenderness.
She reached up to press her hand to his cheek, "I have been hurt before. This is a kind of pain I relish."
He buried himself within her and she arched with a cry, her nails clutching him to her. He braced himself against the bed with his stump as his other hand found her breast, trailing down her waist and pulling her thigh harder against his hip. Her body welcomed him, her wet heat enveloping him and tightening with every shudder of pleasure he gave to her. Kissing her neck and shoulder, a groan slipped past his lips as he reached between her legs to massage her nub.
Her toes curled and a throaty "Yes" fell from her lips. She looked up at him, eyes bright, a smile on her lips as the pleasure built within her. With each thrust of his cock inside her, he watched as her cheeks darkened, her eyes widened, reading the orgasm hurtling closer. Her muscles tightened around him, her nails digging into his back, and a groan fell from his lips.
He could feel her trembling underneath him and he captured her lips with a crushing, possessive kiss. She arched, coiling tight as his finger circled her clit, her lashes fluttering as the pleasure became unbearable. It felt as though she could explode. And she did, stars bursting before her eyes as her orgasm crashed upon her.
"James," she gasped as she climaxed.
Her walls clenched around him, quivering with her release, and he could not keep himself back from spilling within her. He felt his seed fill her and he released a groan of pleasure, burying his head in the crook of her neck. Her breast heaved as she found her breath again and he relished her trembling gasps as she quivered beneath him. There were no words necessary, they both knew that they were forgiven.
"So this is where you went!"
Rose stood in the centre of the cabin, one arm keeping the cabin-bunk sheet around her naked form and the other fist resting firmly on her generous hip. James and Abigail looked away from each other to Rose and Abigail's musical laugh bubbled from her lips, she couldn't help it.
"I'm glad you find this amusing," Rose pouted, "I woke up alone!"
"Sorry, Rose," Abigail giggled. "The Captain and I had business to attend to."
"Clearly!"
Rose's hazel eyes finally looked over at James who was focused very firmly on Rose's sheet-covered body.
"What?" Rose snapped half-heartedly.
"Are you naked under that?"
"Lech!" Abigail smacked his shoulder with a grin.
"Even if I was I wouldn't be telling you,"she clutched the sheet tighter, raising a brow at the quickly hardening length under their own sheet. "Is that a pistol under there or are you just happy to see me?" Her girlfriend giggled, he looked confused. "Now that I know where Abigail vanished to I'll return to my room."
"Now why would you want to do that?" He asked in a voice smooth as silk.
"Because you two are obviously busy and I don't want to interrupt."
"You're not interrupting anything, love," Abigail reached for her. "Come join us." Rose simply raised a brow, walking up the few short steps to the gallery which held the massive bed.
"I don't know, you seem to have already spent him for the moment," she looked as if she were examining him like a specimen under glass. "It is probably best to let him rest for now." Her eyes met Abigail's and while he was too busy gaping incredulously at Rose, something passed between the two women.
"Oh yes," Abigail nodded emphatically from under him. "We had quite the invigorating workout, he'll need some time to recover."
"Poor dear."
"I on the other hand am more than ready to...assist you in your early morning exercise," she made a show of raking her eyes over Rose's figure. Throughout the exchange Hook said nothing.
"Well then do not keep me waiting, darling." Abigail slipped out from beneath the captain, wriggling free of the silk sheets and sliding to her feet. She crossed the short distance to meet her lover, her hips swaying with every step. They kissed, long and leisurely. Roving hands pulled Rose close, running across her curves and tugging at the thin sheet until it began to slip. Hook lay upon the bed, the covers riding low on his hips. Cold, narrow eyes took in the scene before him. His good arm crossed his belly, the long fingers tapping a steady beat. It was the only sign of agitation he would allow himself. Teases they were, sharp tongued vixens. Though lovely, the long haired witch was playing with fire in insulting him. His breath caught in his throat as he caught sight of one plump breast revealed by Abigail's eager caresses.
"Shall we return to our room?" Rose said lowly against her lips.
"What about darling James?"
"You said that he was far too exhausted to be bothered with us," she cupped her round arse and pulled her hips tight against her own. His hand clenched into a fist.
"Heaven forbid we exert the poor man beyond his limits."
"Quite right," hazel eyes locked with his. "He may well be three centuries past his prime."
Abigail's hand pressed against her own mouth to stifle the gasp of laughter that almost escaped. As her hands left Rose's body, Rose's heavy breasts were bared to James' eyes. Abigail managed a chiding,
"It's too early to be offending him, Rose."
"I think I'm safe," Rose replied, "He's not armed, anyway."
Abigail snorted.
Hook had heard enough of that. He sprang up, the silk pooling dangerously low on his lap.
"Abigail," he snapped, the women turning their falsely innocent eyes to him. "Fetch my harness and hook."
"Eager to start the day?" The blue eyed witch raised a dark brow.
"In a certain sense."
Abigail obeyed, pulling the harness down from where it hung on the beautifully carved headboard. She helped slip it onto his arm, watching him as he put on the Hook and became Hook with the clip of the leather straps upon the harness, securing them around his chest. She reached cautious hands out to brush against the leather. His hand caught her wrist and his blue eyes pierced into hers. No longer was he James, but the fearsome and powerful Jas Hook.
"Bring her to me."
Abigail once again obeyed, taking Rose's hand and pulling her toward their captain. Rose, a blush staining her cheeks, stumbled on the sheet as she approached, her mouth gone dry. He stood above her, looking down at her, and she felt the arousal surge between her legs in spite of herself.
"I am now armed," he said in a dangerously soft voice. "Dost thou still think that thou art safe?"
"No," she answered him in a small voice. Abigail's blue eyes flicked between the captain and her Rose, anticipation clearly on her face. She could feel the dynamic shift in the air and she bit her lip.
"Sit down," he commanded coolly. Abigail flashed Rose a smirk and obeyed, easing herself down onto the wing-backed chair in the corner. Left relatively alone with the Captain, Rose clutched her sheet tighter around herself. He clicked his tongue reprovingly, "None of that. Let me see what is mine."
Abigail's grin widened and Hook's hand twisted in the sheet to pull it from Rose's body. She gasped, shivering in delight at the callous way he bared her naked body.
"Too pale," he observed, his hand caressing her arse. "Let's get some rosiness to those cheeks. What say you?"
"Oh yes," Abigail answered, lounging in the chair as if it were a throne. Rose gulped, knowing what was to come. His hand fisted in her long hair and she yelped. He bore her to her knees, pushing her down over the footstool of the chair so that she could look up at her girlfriend's face.
The first strike came and she yelped.
Noodler pressed his ear to the door of the captain's cabin, his ruddy face ashen with fear as he listened to the screams and pained groans coming from within the cabin. He had never heard the captain make those sounds. The women were also making strange cries.
"They are casting a wicked curse upon him," he whispered in concern to his companions. "They have to be. It's dark magick, we should do something."
"I do not think that is what is happening, amico," Cecco said, leaning casually against the railing of the ship. "And I definitely do not think the capitano would appreciate an interruption."
An ululating cry echoed from within the cabin and the crew shuddered.
"They themselves confessed to being witches," Starkey grunted, "Maybe Scourie was right and we should have tossed them off the ship right then and there."
"We saw how well that worked out for 'im," Cookson hissed, jerking his thumb to where Scourie - still refusing to speak - was staring at nothing, his hands pressed over his ears.
"I promise you, the capitano is just fine." Cecco said dismissively.
A loud groan reached their ears, sounding very much like the captain.
"We have to do something," Noodler insisted, "I don't much fancy the idea of the captain being slaughtered for some dark sacrifice by two witches!"
"Idiota," Cecco said. He knew what those sounds were and he knew better than to interrupt. But the rest of the crew were too flustered at the imagined predicament of their captain.
A shriek pierced the air and the bullies made up their minds.
They crashed through the door to the cabin, daggers and pistols drawn to protect their captain.
What they found made them shriek in turn. Several of them covered their eyes, more of them just stared with wide eyes and gaping mouths. That was probably the poorer choice.
The dark haired witch lay on her back upon the large bed, propped up on the mountain of pillows at the headboard. Her pale skin was flushed, eyes shut tight, generous lips open mid moan. Between her legs, spread wide across the scarlet sheets, was the auburn witch on all fours. Her face was hidden from sight, buried between the woman's thighs, a gleaming hook pressed against the back of her neck. The captain knelt behind her, his hand gripping her hip, bruises already darkening her creamy skin. He had just thrust into her, a harsh groan escaping his gritted teeth, the women sighing and moaning, when they heard the small army crashing into the room.
Abigail shrieked, covering herself with a pillow. Rose fell with a cry when her lover was startled, a thin line of blood appearing where the hook scratched her. Hook watched as she touched her wound, smearing the crimson across her pale flesh and turned to the door with a snarl.
"What. Are. You. Doing?" He enunciated each and every word, his voice cold and icy as a blizzard.
The pirates trembled in fear.
"Answer me!"
They screamed, high pitched and screeching like children.
"Savin' you Cap'n!" Noodler shrieked.
Hook stared at them blankly.
"You what?"
The witches cuddled close, hiding their naked bodies from the sailors, unlike their lover who didn't seem to rightly care at the moment. Now they too were gaping at the crew, armed to the teeth and squirming under their leader's infuriated gaze.
"We heard horrid sounds, we did," one of them managed to finally say after several stuttering attempts.
"Thought those she-devils were tryin' to put some dark curse on you," another pointed a dirty finger at them.
"The only power at work here would be what the French call le petit mort," Hook said dryly with a curl of his lip.
"So...you ain't in danger then, sir?" The captain breathed heavily through his nose, pinching the bridge between two fingers.
"You have until I count to three to evacuate yourselves," he said lowly, reaching under the mattress and producing a loaded pistol. "One," he cocked it with his hook. His crew looked on in terror but seemed to be frozen in place. "Two," his left arm stretched out, wrist bent slightly, taking aim. Now the men started to panic, nearly tripping over each other on their way to the door. The final man had just ran out when he finally uttered, "three."
"Is that a pistol under there or are you just happy to see me," Abigail quipped.
"It was a pistol," Rose giggled.