Chapter Seven! So much for a one-shot. On the one hand, it makes for something to keep you and me entertained for a few weeks—on the other, it means I have absolutely no control over my story length. Just as another warning, this chapter contains another sex scene—again, it's a little bit on the graphic side. Not enough to drain the blood out of your face, but you might want to mind where you read it, lest somebody read over your shoulder and question you.

Once again, thanks to MissWed for proofreading parts of this story.

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. I'm just making them do really dirty things.

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The difference in temperature between the daylight hours and night time was uncomfortably noticeable. As soon as the sun began to set, the air chilled and it became uncomfortably cold out on the deck. It was only the tiniest bit warmer down below in the hold, but it was hardly compensatory. It was worse than spending those long, cold winter nights exposed to the elements in the damp and dead and frozen forest—at least there they could light a fire, sleep close to the embers to keep warm, and wrap themselves in furs and as many woolly blankets as they could find. But there was also always something oddly cozy about being cocooned in heavy pelts and blankets, curled up comfortably warm under all that weight in the icy dead of night.

But there was no way to light a fire on board this ship; it was dangerous enough to light those little tiny lanterns. Ships were nothing but floating tinder boxes, and it wouldn't take a terribly big errant spark or flame to catch the pitch-coated wood, the dry rope, or the canvas sails and make the whole vessel go up in flames. They didn't even have any spare clothes and there were few blankets to keep them warm.

The air in the hold was starting to get heavy and dank, from so many people sitting about and huddled down in the hold without enough portholes to let out the stale air and the stink of too many people in too small a space. That was the one advantage of the forest: there was never that uncomfortably close feeling that they would have gotten if they were cooped up all winter inside a cottage or if they lived in a castle. Here they had no such luxury of fresh air.

Cold and humid, dark and smelly and creaky.

It was absolutely miserable.

Or, it would have been, except that the need for extra warmth gave Djaq an excellent excuse to snuggle up nice and warm and comfy and close to Will. And she took full advantage of this. She sat bracketed between his legs, leaning back against his chest with his cloak snugly wrapped around the two of them, and it was quite cozy. He leaned down, pressed his lips to her hair, kissed the top of her head; she sighed quietly, hugging his arms tighter around her chest and her shoulders. They were sitting away from the rest of the group—just far enough to keep their affectionate display out of their full view, but close enough not to feel cut off from them.

Much and Robin sat nearby, facing one another and having a private conversation, talking in gentle, hushed tones with a small lantern between them casting the smallest pool of light. John was already asleep, sprawled out under a blanket and snoring away like a sleeping bear. Allan, the closest person to them, was curled up a few feet away, dozing and slipping in and out of consciousness. Elsewhere in the hold, the rest of the ship's passengers and the crew members who weren't working were also sleeping. They were sleeping a lot on this trip; that was the best way to pass the time, to settle down and lose the boredom in a few hours of sleep.

For now she was happy to sit here with Will. She could fall asleep like this and stay here all night.

Despite Allan's gentle, prodding teases about going back to 'their cupboard', as he was calling it, they kept themselves under control for the duration of the day. Though she was beginning to wonder why they were even bothering. After all, their friend was right about one thing—there was hardly anything else to do during the day, or the night for that matter. It would be time very well spent, wouldn't it?

A tingling excitement flared in her belly at the thought and at the memory of last night. She was fairly sure that nobody else was going to use the cupboard, and that it wouldn't be too hard to discreetly slip back there for the night and make love again. The idea sounded more and more appealing as the moments passed lazily by. And why not? After all, it was only natural—she loved him and wanted to be as close to him as possible.

With his arms wrapped around her from behind, his hands were chastely resting on her shoulders—oh, how she wanted him to move them, to put those wonderfully coarse hands somewhere rather less innocent.

Her hands were hanging down on either side of his legs, and she casually brought them up and grazed the undersides of his thighs with her fingernails. His whole body tensed in response, his grip on her shoulders tightening until his fingers and his nails dug into the flesh of her shoulders. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards, grinning, and she did it again, a little harder this time. This time, he responded by lowering his head to the curve of her neck and shoulder and roughly kissing her.

She tilted her head back and to the side to give him access to her neck, and he began enthusiastically mouthing kisses on the delicate skin there.

As he continued kissing her, laying increasingly light and ticklish kisses on her exposed neck, she wriggled against him. The more she squirmed, the tighter he held her, closing his arms and his legs around her until she was effectively trapped in his hold.

His kisses became lighter, tickling her neck and making her squirm helplessly; her arms were pinned to her sides, making it impossible for her to get away or to touch him. Of course, if she'd really wanted to, she could have freed herself from his grip by force, but she was really quite enjoying herself.

One of his hands began to roam as his other arm kept her immobile. He dragged his fingers up her front, pulling her shirt up as he went and exposing her stomach. She had to bit her lower lip to keep from squealing as he tickled her. She jerked her arms, tugging to try to free herself, to no avail. She just wanted to touch him.

The roaming hand yanked the shirt up higher, over her chest and exposing her breasts to his hand. Her breath caught in her throat as he gently touched her, gently fondling one breast and then the other. A small whimper escaped her as he ran a thumb over her nipple.

Then he stopped.

She growled.

"Flustered?" He breathed hotly in her ear.

"You are cruel," she whined.

"Hmm, really?"

Before she could answer, he'd leaned forward and nipped her earlobe, making her yelp softly. He squeezed her breast and all power of speech left her.

Djaq knew she'd created a monster. Before last night he'd never have done anything like this, never touched her in such an overtly sexual way or been in any way aggressive at all. She knew that sleeping with him would change the dynamic between them forever—she was perfectly willing to accept that—and she knew it was going to change the way they acted around one another as well. But she definitely hadn't expected that Will would have turned quite suddenly from the sweet, boyishly shy, innocent young carpenter into this wickedly aggressive sort. One encounter seemed to have awakened something in him, something that even he probably didn't know he had in him. If nothing else, she thought a change like this might have occurred slowly over a long period of time.

It was a radical change, certainly, but it was a good change. She could most definitely enjoy this new side of him.

He was busy on her neck again, mouthing and biting and sucking on the gentle skin while his hand continued to move over her breast, making her groan and dissolve into his hold. When he pinched her nipple just a bit, and she scratched wildly at the arm around her and flailed in his grip. She managed to turn herself around and free her arms, and then pushed him backwards on the floor in a fluttering tangle of cloak and shawl. She planted her hands on his shoulders and held him flat on the floor, hovering over him and breathing heavily.

She couldn't help but giggle quietly at the sweetly surprised look on his face. Then the surprise melted and became a wide smile; she leaned down and kissed his dimpled cheek, then his mouth, caressing his lips and feeling him smile against her mouth. He was laughing silently as she kissed down his throat to the little exposed part of his chest, mouthing long, sweet, gentle kisses down the red marks on his chest. He was struggling under her as she held him down by his shoulders.

She freed his shoulders in order to move a little further down until she could reach to pull at the bottoms of his tunic and shirt, tugging them up and exposing his skin to the cool air. She ghosted her fingernails over his flesh, making him come out in goosebumps in their wake. He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back up to him, nuzzling her still-bare chest—she forgot where they were and gasped loudly as she felt his lips on her breast.

She was suddenly reminded of their proximity to the others with a hand over her mouth; her eyes went wide as she heard Allan stir nearby. She fixed her shirt again so she was decent, and sat up so that she could see—they'd woken him.

"Whuh?" He groaned softly, half-sitting up in his cloak and blanket. "Whut's goinnon?" He slurred.

"Nothing," she said in a desperate bid to save themselves even more embarrassment today. "You are dreaming—to back to sleep."

He was looking right at them but she wasn't sure he could actually figure out what he was staring at.

"All right."

Thunk.

With that, he'd fallen back down again and gone right back to sleep.

"That was close," she whispered as he sat up underneath her.

"Really close," he said in hushed tones.

Pause.

"Cupboard?"

The word was a question, and she knew what it meant.

She nodded swiftly. "Cupboard."

They both stood quickly, stumbling over loose clothing and Djaq's shawl as they skittered, giggly and smiling and clutching each other's hands like a pair of giddily lovestruck teenagers, across the hold towards the back where their little 'room' was waiting. The excitement boiling over in her stomach was almost unbearable as they picked their way, as quickly and as quietly as they could manage, through the sleeping bodies in the hold to the cupboard. Will leaned down to snatch up an unused blanket as they went.

The door was barely closed before they began roughly pulling one another's clothes off, grabbing shirt hems and cloak ties and trying to disrobe without relinquishing their physical contact. Her shirt was quickly discarded and Will's cloak was on the floor—she pulled him closer and wound her arms around his neck. She kissed his neck, searing little pecks down his throat and his collarbone, and pressing herself against him as thoroughly as possible. His rough, scratchy tunic was on her bare breasts—there was something strangely arousing about that—and his hands were on her hips trying to drag her trousers down without first untying the laces.

She grabbed fistfuls of his shirt and tunic from behind, pulling them up to his neck and exposing his torso a little bit at a time. His bare stomach was pressed against hers, and she purred softly against his lips at that marvellous feeling of skin on bare skin. With his tunic bunched in her hands, she started trying to pull it over his head—again, trying not to give up their contact, and finding it very difficult to do so.

He was laughing softly into her neck as she struggled with the garment, and her heart melted; she enjoyed hearing that sound more than any other. She finally wrenched his tunic up over his head and tossed it to the side, but forgot about the shirt he wore under it and voiced a dismayed whimper when she realized he was still wearing it.

"You sound like you're having a bit of trouble," he murmured.

"I am!" She huffed in response. "You wear far too much clothing!"

Again, he laughed, highly amused by this—her stomach fluttered; how she loved hearing him laugh!—and stepped away from her just long enough to pull his shirt off for her to save her any further trouble. It was quickly dropped on the floor and forgotten about as she jumped on him again, his bare chest pressed against hers and sending those jolts of white-hot excitement through her whole body.

They kissed feverishly again as he began to slowly walk into her, pushing her further and further into the cupboard. She clumsily kicked her boots off as she went, trying not to fall over them or let him trip, either, and he forced her to back up until she came in contact with a crate—the force of the impact made her knees buckle and she sat hard on the wooden surface, coming down with a jolt.

"Ow!" She yelped, wincing and rubbing her suddenly sore tailbone.

He crouched low to be at eye-level with her; he looked concerned around the lusty glazed look in his eyes. "You all right?" He asked.

"Fine."

"Good."

He rose a little higher and came forward quickly until he collided with her mouth again, kissing her hotly, kneading her lips with his and making her shiver with anticipation against him. He clasped her around the waist with his broad hands, gently sliding them up her sides, delicately tickling her. His touch made her absolutely giddy—she clasped him around the neck again and threaded her fingers into his hair.

He whispered her name, warm and gentle against her lips, hovering just over her mouth. His voice was soft and sweet and tender, the sound of her own name making her heart thump wildly in her chest.

His hand rested on the side of her face, tracing her cheek with his thumb. She loosened her grip on the back of his hair in favour of bringing her own hand up to cover his. She could feel him trembling ever so shallowly as she did so, and she closed the minute distance between them to kiss him again. He relaxed into her, lips melding and tongues tangling. She cheekily nipped his tongue; he responded by growling and biting her lower lip. When he withdrew again, he was smiling.

"I love you," he whispered.

"Uhibbuka," the word rolled silkily off of her tongue; it was strange and familiar all at the same time. There were times when she found the words in her native language to be much better at conveying certain ideas or feelings than those in the startlingly limited English tongue. It meant the same thing, but she said it anyway.

He frowned. "What does…?"

"It means 'I love you'," she murmured.

His mouth turned up at the corners and he gently pressed his smile against hers. "Uhi—bbuka," he repeated the word in slowly and haltingly. He had no idea what he was saying, but a tiny little burst of laughter came from her lips.

He frowned.

"I am sorry," she apologized quickly, trying to think of a way to explain this to him. "It is… the wrong word."

"But you said—"

"The word changes when addressing a man or a woman," she explained.

"Oh."

Pause.

"Why's that?" He asked.

She kissed his cheek. "I shall teach you properly another time—it will be our secret language," she promised. The thought of sharing steamy private words with him in her poetic native Arabic while the others remained none the wiser of their conversation sounded quite appealing.

"Then what do I say to you?"

"It is 'uhibbuki'," she told him.

"Uhibbuki," he repeated. His eyes slid closed as the word came slowly and sounding so very alien coming from his mouth; and yet she went all fluttery and excited, hearing that one little word in her native tongue in his voice. His lips were swollen and bruised from their kisses and she couldn't resist pulling him back to her and sinking into heated kisses once again.

He shifted and flattened his other hand on her stomach, sliding it slowly up between her breasts and stopping to trace his fingernails over her collarbones and making her squirm under his touch.

She shivered happily and hummed quietly, contentedly, to herself as he tenderly cupped one breast and with the other ghosted his fingernails down her stomach.

His kisses and his touch and the tickling and his warmth all sent hot jolts all the way through her body, making her tingle all over and made the heat between her thighs grow noticeably more intense. She grasped wantonly at his shoulders, forgetting about the scratches she'd left last night and scoring his back and shoulders with her nails again. A long, low groan rumbled up in her throat when he squeezed her breast.

He tore his lips away from hers in favour of mouthing deep, wet, open-mouthed kisses down her throat and the top of her chest, smoothing his hands down her torso and following them with his mouth. He flicked his tongue over first one nipple, and then the other, and she yelped. She felt him laugh silently against her skin and come back up to kiss her cheek.

"Shh," he purred around shallow laughs.

"I can hardly help it," she said, crossing her arms over her bare chest and sticking out her lower lip in a mock-pout. "First you tease me, and then I am not allowed to say anything about it."

He pecked her lips again. "Just try."

He pulled her arms down—she didn't resist—and went back to her naked torso to continue tormenting her. She bit her lip while he lipped and gently bit down her chest and stomach, soothing away the little nips with sweet little kisses. She sat back, leaning back on her hands and letting him do as he liked with his hands and his mouth on her bare skin.

When he reached the waistband of her trousers, he began to tug at the laces with his teeth, trying to untie them. This slowed the process considerably, but she found herself rather enjoying the anticipation as he pulled on the leather cords. The excitement flared in her belly, warm and tingling.

Just when she was starting to get impatient, she felt the laces give and he began to tug her pants and underwear down all at once, inching the garments down over her backside. She lifted herself up on her hands so that he could pull her clothes out from under her before continuing to slowly pull them further down. His slow pace was driving her mad, but she let him have the upper hand this time and let him do whatever he wanted.

He pulled her slightly forward, pulling her closer to his mouth and kissing her stomach just below her navel. He bit down softly and sucked on her skin, leaving a little red mark. She held her breath and waited, hoping and wishing that he might go further and knowing that it probably would never occur to him to do that.

Will slipped the trousers down her thighs and her legs and finally discarded them, leaving her bare before him once again. He rose a little higher and took a moment to just look at her, an awed look on his face as his eyes passed over her body. He said nothing—words would have spoiled the moment—and leaned down over her to kiss her again, long and warm and so sweet she nearly went completely boneless sitting there.

By now she was practically laying down on the hard wooden crate, leaning back a little bit at a time in hopes of getting him even closer to her. He followed to maintain contact, pressing his chest and stomach to hers and blindly exploring her newly exposed lower body with his hands as he hovered over her.

After sliding down her stomach again and coming to rest between her legs, his hand found her again and cupped her sex, work-worn fingers dragging through her slick heat and making her tremble shallowly, her breath released slowly in a rumbling, moaning sigh. Her eyes fluttered closed as she let herself become completely consumed by his touch. His deliciously rough and calloused fingers were softly caressing her, stroking, making her whole body burn and tremble. She breathed quickly and panted shallowly as his movements sped up; she grasped him tightly around his neck while he kissed her all over her neck and chest and shoulders. When he nipped her neck and ground his palm against her, she cried out softly and bucked her hips. Lost in the moment, she didn't care that she'd been loud, and apparently neither did he. He seemed like he was too caught up in this, in pleasing her, to care about anything else.

It was like he knew exactly what she liked, as if they had been lovers for years and knew one another intimately; she knew he'd never been with another woman before, so he shouldn't have been nearly as good at this as he was proving to be. She'd thought—indeed, expected—that there would be a period of awkward adjustment as they got used to one another's bodies and likes and dislikes. He either had a substantial natural talent, or was making a lot of very lucky guesses. Or maybe there were a few useful crossovers between carpentry and sex.

Whatever the reason, he was absolutely wonderful.

She arched into him, breathing heavily and burbling wordlessly, pleading as he brought her closer and closer to heaven. The warmth in the pit of her stomach grew and heated and—

He stopped.

She pushed herself up on her elbows and sat up in order to glare angrily at him. He wore a lopsided little grin, his face intense as he stared right back at her. She couldn't begin to guess what was going through his mind—his gaze was so passionate, his eyes crinkled the littlest bit at the corners in silent mirth.

The scolding and question were on the tip of her tongue, but it was all completely forgotten when he pulled her forward one last time, bringing her right to the edge of the crate and level with his mouth. Foggily, through the hazy half-thoughts in her head, she knew she should have been worried about her naked backside being dragged across the wooden surface of the box—it certainly had the potential to result in some embarrassingly difficult to explain splinters—but she couldn't find it in herself to care at the moment. And when he dove between her thighs and delved his tongue into her warm folds, she swiftly forgot how to speak.

She drew a ragged breath and clawed her fingers through his dark hair while he wantonly devoured her. His tongue lolled over her again and again and again, making her melt into him. She trilled, digging her blunt fingernails into his back and shoulders as he knelt before her. Waves of pleasure coursed through her whole body, making her tingle all over and shiver uncontrollably; a tiny little bead of sweat rolled from her neck and down her back, raising goosebumps in its path.

The warmth of their contact spread through her body, the small bubble expanding in the pit of her stomach and filling her to her toes.

"Will…"

She moaned his name when she came out in convulsing tremors as she reached her release under his mouth. Blood rushed up through her face, her breath caught in her lungs, her heart pounded so hard in her chest that it almost felt like it wanted to escape.

He must have been talking to Allan again—or else Allan was offering him unsolicited advice. Never in a million years did she expect that he would have tried something like this. It hardly seemed compatible with the image of innocent young Will Scarlett, who until last night had been the very definition of a blushing virgin. Something told her that he'd been concocting this elaborate fantasy in his head and was taking advantage of their half-private cupboard to act out everything—absolutely everything—he'd imagined doing with her, while they still had the opportunity.

Not that she objected to it, at all—it was hardly unenjoyable.

When she finally came back down to earth, he was still kneeling before her, with his head resting in her lap and his arms were clasped around her hips. When she looked down at him, he pressed a gentle kiss to her stomach and then smiled up at her. His lips were shining with her wetness and his hair stood out at odd angles from her running her hands through it and badly mussing it. Once again, he looked quite pleased with himself at what he'd done to her. She had a feeling she'd always find it funny, but she couldn't laugh. He kissed her again, leaving damp lip-marks just below her navel.

She was still purring quietly low in her throat and her muscles were still twitching pleasurably. He stayed where he was, still clutching her tightly and occasionally laying kisses on her belly and her thighs as he held her. Her trembling subsided, finally, and she bent low, tilting his chin up and kissing him, slow and deep; it was the strangest thing, tasting herself on him as she moved her mouth over his.

Without breaking contact, he stood and lifted her up off of her perch and hefted her in his arms. She grasped at his shoulders and wound her legs around his waist to steady herself. His pants were gone—when had he taken those off?—and she could feel him hard and ready against her thigh.

He repositioned them both and softly lay her back down on the floor on the pile of their discarded clothing, slowly and gently, still smothering her with kisses as he went. But as he settled down, he stopped quite suddenly; she kept her legs wrapped tightly around his hips, an awkward position to be in as he hovered over her, supporting himself on his elbows to keep a little space between them, but she didn't want to lose that contact between them. Djaq's brows knit in concern, not sure of what he was doing—until she saw that familiar look of uncertainty in her lover's face. He probably wasn't entirely sure what to do now that he had the dominant role. After all, the last time she had been the one to take charge.

"Djaq," he rasped against her cheek, his face turning pink as he closed his eyes and buried his face in the crook of her neck. He sounded like he'd wanted to continue that thought and say something else, but he kept quiet, breathing into her neck and remaining motionless above her.

"Keep going," she breathed, almost pleading. She arched into his chest and clutched his shoulders to encourage him to keep going.

He was still slowly hesitant as he unfastened her legs from around himself, having her lay flat under him, and lowered his hips to hers. Unsure of himself, he moved over her, halting and clumsy—he couldn't quite manage their completion, going flustered and blushing furiously. His movements became erratic and he began to tremble slightly, and he started to sound frustrated as he whimpered into her shoulder.

She reached down between them and took him in her hand again; Will sharply drew a breath and froze. His face was bright red with embarrassment, and he looked apologetic and tried to explain himself, but all that came out was a garbled mess of words. He was so sweetly uncertain of this, despite the forwardness with which he'd touched her—he was still so very inexperienced, and she was reminded of this with his sudden onslaught of nerves.

"It is all right," she assured him quietly. Her free hand came up to his cheek and she pulled him down to kiss him again.

She guided him into the slick warmth between her legs, her hand steady and firm; when they finally met, she shuddered and drove her hips up to meet his. She braced herself for this, but there was much less discomfort and very little pain this time at their union, far better than their first awkwardly uncomfortable time.

He drove into her as she rose to meet him again. He caught on to their rhythm quicker this time, and his confidence returned. He began kissing her slowly and roughly once he'd grown used to it, tracing patterns on her chest and stomach, flicking his fingers over her breasts and adding to her pleasure.

She grasped him around his waist with her legs again as he ground his pelvis into hers—his breath was hot on her skin, his face buried in the crook of her neck. She sighed happily, winding her arms around his neck and sinking into their warmth. She could feel his heart pounding in his chest against her own; his muscles tensed and then relaxed again with every thrust. The low growls rumbling up in his throat were music to her ears.

His breathing soon grew heavy and uneven, his body beginning to tremble. He gripped around her waist with both hands; he groaned softly into her shoulder and shuddered against her. He released his remaining breath as a long moan, driving into her one last time and then stopping. He fell into her, comfortably squashing her under his weight.

She stroked his damp hair, smiling to herself as he lay there on top of her, panting heavily while he slowly settled down. His grip on her waist relaxed and he stroked her sides with gentle hands. He kissed her neck and cheeks and lips in-between his heaving breaths, murmuring wordlessly against her skin as he did so.

Eventually, he came back down from his release and pulled out of her—she whimpered a little at the loss of his body. She grabbed her shawl to cover them while he lazily reached behind them and pulled the mess of clothes and blankets over them to shield their sweaty bodies from the cool night air.

"Love you," she whispered against his temple.

He hitched the blankets up around their shoulders. "I love you, too," he breathed. He held her back against his chest, warm and protective in his arms, and nuzzled her cheek. "Uhibbuki—I love you…"

He kept whispering the same things over and over again until his voice trailed off and he drifted off to sleep. Djaq sighed, listening to his words and letting sleep overtake her, as well.

They slept again in the cupboard that night, cuddled up close together with their bodies entwined in a tangle of clothes and makeshift blankets.

The next morning, nobody came to look for them and they slept late into the day together, content and undisturbed—and by the following night the little dark cupboard had become recognized as Will and Djaq's bedroom.

o…o

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These chapters are getting a bit long, aren't they? I thought these were going to be shorter chapters than in HF, but they're starting to get into the 4,000 plus range now. I have absolutely no self-control! Oh well, at least it gives you something to read. As always, feedback is greatly appreciated should you feel so inclined to leave it.