CHAPTER 127
I do not own Skip Beat! Yoshiki Nakamura does.
~~Magical Summer trip ~~
~~ part XXXIII~~
~~(because I don't care anymore,
fucking hell, there is no end of this summer trip)~~
~~Pirates~~
Jo smiled, gratitude infinite in his eyes, before he turned severe eyes to the others. "Alia, be available to help in any fashion they might need. Jack, put your own costume and join her. The others, go prep yourself. If everything doesn't burn and explode again, we will have a show to present in one hour and a quarter."He said before exiting the costume cabin. Everyone, but the pen girl she now knew went by the name of Alia left, and Kyoko twirled in her direction.
"Miss Alia, do you have any bigger cloaks, or a long coat maybe?" She asked her, before pointing Ren with her thumb. "He is a giant, and the one he wore earlier looked utterly ridiculous on him."
Alia shook her head.
"Everything available is here. Regrettably."
"What about the costumes of the other performers? Is there no spare? One of the leather coats of the crew of Milo, maybe? We saw the princess Kida earlier, is she the only one appearing from the movie? Or any other tall characters maybe?"
Alia's eyes enlarged.
"No, she is not, the whole band is there, but– … wait, yes…"She grinned at her, "It might work, actually. I will go to search for it." And she started to turn before realizing Kyoko was not done. She turned back in a rush.
"Anything else?"
"Boots. Large boots." Kyoko said, after staring briefly at the utterly modern shoes on Ren's feet. Very fitting but very non-pirat-y. "And it will be impossible to find him fitting dark pants but with luck, maybe an ample shirt?"
She nodded, taking notes on the electronic outlet.
"What about you?" She asked once she was done, and her eyes perked back to her.
"I'll manage." The pen girl looked sceptical but she nodded and turned, grabbing the handle–
"Wait." She turned back her way.
"Scissors, razors, I would need that first. And talcum powder, if you have it."
She smiled.
"There are several of every cutting thing in the drawers, even needles. And there must be a few boxes of talc too." She replied, making the wood door creak as she opened it, and slipped into the opening.
"Thank you." Kyoko said.
"No, thank you." She whispered, but Kyoko didn't even hear it, already focusing on the task at hand.
"Really?"Ren asked the minute they were alone, looking doubtful. "There is only a little more than one hour."
"Positive."She said, and grabbed his t-shirt to drag him to sit on one of the trunks. He let himself be pulled, and sat obediently on the coffer with an amused smile.
She set her palms on both his shoulders, and felt him relaxed under the pressure applied.
"Now, how much do you care about your clothes?"
He chuckled.
"You are going to ruin another outfit of mine, aren't you?" He shook with laugher. "This is turning in a running gag, you know."
She gave him an apologetic smile.
"If we get lucky and they find you a white shirt, only your jeans, but … yes."
He smiled.
"And supposing they don't?"
"Your shirt is the wrong colour and too modern … maybe if they find a coat, but even then honestly, the simpler way is to make it look less modern by changing the cut…" she said as she turned around him. "The jeans can only be ruined, since the goal will be to make them look like something else entirely than, well … jeans." She warned him with a grimace.
When he just nodded at her with amusement, she grinned, her face the expression of her anticipation for his assent.
He leaned forward in her direction, their stares close to similar levels while he was sitting, and let his forearms rest on his thighs openly.
"Do whatever you want with me … and my clothes."He added, smirking at her roll of eyes–and obviously failed irritation–upon his nefarious ways of speaking of it.
"You sure?"
He shrugged.
"I have other clothes. And there are more urgent matters. More importantly, what can I do to fasten the process?"
She smiled, and twirling, she rummaged in drawers, pulling scissors, razors, stripes of cloths, hair gel, and anything that she deemed useful to prep themselves. She set the pot of gel in his hand.
"Can you give your hair a wilder outlook while I started working on your jeans? Do you need a mirror?"
He opened the can, after shaking his head no, and she squatted to work at the rim of his pants.
She caught the edge of one leg pants, bringing the scissors close, and the back of her fingers brushed against the inside of his ankle.
She felt him shudder and stopped instantly.
"Sorry, I didn't hurt you, did I?" She was positive she hadn't, since the scissors hadn't even open to cut anything, but maybe her nails had scratched him. She was keeping them short, but even then-
"No. But actually, maybe it would be easier if I lied my foot on the trunk for you, no?"
That was a great idea. Nodding, she waited for him to twist and set his leg on the elevated surface, and the moment it was done, he started applying the gel in his hair.
"Here goes your jeans." She said, just before making the first cut, and she heard his snort from above her head. She was quickly dissatisfied with it, however. Both from knowing it would probably be hidden in boots, if they found any, and because it didn't change the impeccable immaculate outlook at all. Or, so little it was laughable. If anything it made the brand she knew the jeans belonged to, stand out even more. It just stamped the jeans with an 'I'm the so-unique-piece of cloth a designer made for a runaway'.
"Your pants are too high quality…" she grumbled, "I just made it worse."
He laughed, and she switched to the razor, all too grateful it was an old-fashioned one, with a foldable handle. That would make it more secure and efficient. Hopefully.
Careful, she set herself between Ren's legs, and started by rubbing the blade slightly on the jeans, from top to bottom, as she had wanted to shave Ren's leg. She made it at a very low angle, making sure it was never vertical to his thigh, and applying as little pressure as possible. If she had had more time, she would have simply asked him to strip to do it. But she wanted to give the illusion of a worn-out look, not to its full. The time that would take, otherwise! Thankfully, it worked better she had imagined, and she began to shed and peel the denim outer layer.
She had inquired Ren would tell her at any time, and not to risk anything if he felt something, though the blade was rough enough she was pretty sure it was quite safe. She managed to do the front of the first leg without much issue, and she was trying her best not to touch Ren too much, though she had to pull at the cloth between her fingers to straighten it, and get it away from his knee and thigh a couple of times. She preferred to be excessively maniacal than to risk anything.
Ren appeared tense, however, and she wondered if he were worried she would hurt him. Her suspicions grew, when eventually, after doing the other front leg, she had to move to the sides, and he jumped nearly a foot when she touched him on the inner border of his left thigh.
"I promise it is safe," she said as she pressed her fingers a little further up, and he coughed harshly, dropping his arm on the front and right at the top of said leg.
"I know."He mumbled, looking away from what she was doing.
She narrowed her eyes. He didn't look like he knew. Obviously, she knew it was a sensitive place, but she was being very careful. She had made her whole focus the efficient and safety part of the operation, which helped her not to pay attention to every touch she was getting to give, also. And it was a must if she wanted to stay on the task. If she were to focus a little too long on how taut his thighs felt, how strong they felt under her fingers … it would seal her doom. But her pressures and pulls were so soft and dainty, she was sometimes afraid not to have a hold good enough, and both rejoicing and mourning how little she could feel through them.
She managed to finish it, and did the outer side of that leg too, though Ren remained as immobile as a rock the whole time, then she moved to the other. Asking him to switch sides again, she proceeded … and he jumped once again. Making her jump back, in fear of hurting him with the suddenness of the move.
"Ren! Don't move so suddenly!"
"Are you actually thinking I would hurt you?!"
"I know you wouldn't," He protested, "But can't you really blame me for being a little sensitive there?"
She frowned at him.
"I'm being very careful."
He groaned in despair.
"I don't mean with the blade, Kyoko. With your fingers."
It took her a second before it hit her.
"Oh."
"Did I press too hard?"She asked, sorting out options in what he was trying to say, knowing they were drastically shortening.
"You didn't."He said, looking very stone-ly away.
"Then, when you said … you didn't mean it prone to feel hurt, did you?"
He cleared his throat and shook his head.
He meant sensitive as in, a little bit too titillating for his body.
Damn. Damn it all. Damn it Kyoko.
She should have known that. Should have guessed that. She had been with a few men, for God's sake! How come she had not thought of that…
She had not been close with those men during her few encounters, however. Never enough for her to be a witness of more than … the very, very obvious spots for these kinds of activities. But what did she really know? It had just felt really bland and uneventful for her, she hadn't even been really interested, if not for her scientific purposes, and her desire to purge more negative memories.
Also, she was not oblivious enough to ignore, sensitive areas were different for everyone.
To have a man, him, not only showing her, but blatantly admitting where some of his weaker spots were, felt incredibly tempting and arousing. Though, it was more by the nature of events than anything else. But she would take what she could get.
Yet again, the thought that she had found one of his sensitive areas was creating such an interesting feeling inside her. That she knew, and got to touch a place that was so … if ever so lightly … that it might have pleased him for a few seconds there…
She cursed internally.
The knowledge was turning her so fucking greedy. She clamped her imagination up, and cleared her throat, stepping away.
"Would you like to finish it instead?"She proposed, taking pity in both of them.
He nodded softly, giving her a grateful glance, and she presented him with the razor, and did her best explaining to him how to do it without making it dangerous.
"Was there anywhere else you wanted to work on for the trousers?"He asked, as he followed her instructions.
She quickly pondered, before admitting defeat.
"The back. But unless you want me to do it again, I would advise to still go strip in the changing room for that."
He nodded.
"Don't bother worn it out as much as the front," she said, "since we have so little time, it's better if it gives the illusion than a more thorough look."
"Alright."
He proceeded to finish the inside of the other thigh, and went to strip and do a few strokes on the back, while she looked through the cuts of clothes and scarves. Some were shredded bits, others were full but still ridiculously small, on top of not being a costume or a proper top or bottom, and she had to think fast. But she found what she was looking for, and felt pretty proud when Ren came back, barely ten minutes after leaving if she was to estimate. Alia returned, passing the door at the same time, carrying promising things for Ren.
The pen girl didn't stay long, however, and after dropping her bundle with a quick explanation of what might be in there, she left to take care of the rest of the team, and put things as far in order as she could, before the performance would start.
Kyoko rushed to fish out a couple of coats, some new, some lent, and for boots and shirts, praying. She searched for a while, making Ren try a couple of them, but in the end, the only coat fitting enough and long enough was the brand new one from the store. She didn't even want to comment on the cloaks, the ones found were even poorer fit for him than the ones they got to use earlier. So, it was a moot point. But the coat was good, and they went with that.
There was no shirt, as she had feared. Oh, Alia had found a couple, but none would hold if he were to so much as move his shoulders. It would rip the moment he had to move around. Let alone the stunts they might have to pull during the show, then.
Ren's tee, that she had spared of any damage until then, took the fall. She cut a small triangle of cloth on the top edge front of his t-shirt, giving the illusion of an older type of blouse, and added two long cuts on each low side of it, at Ren's waist, to finish the new style and ease up Ren's future movements.
Thankfully, for the hardest hurdle, they got lucky. There was a pair of high boots, a spare one from the performers of the other male characters of the castle, who had no use of them at the moment and accepted to lend them; and while those were a little snug for Ren, they still fit enough for him to be confident in most movements he might have to do.
When he had donned everything and removed his t-shirt from his pants, she gave him a double cross sword belt to fast on, and they were done. Between the clothes and his whole equipment, he looked very much the noble part of piracy. He slipped a sword in his belt, and paraded for her in three elegant steps.
She smirked at him.
"What a fine pirate we have here."She said, and he grinned back.
"It's all thanks to you."
She brushed it off, and after a quick final check and the addition of a navy-blue necktie scarf, she returned her attention to her scraps of clothes. Now was the time to make it work for her.
Ren came behind her, observing the same scraps of clothes laid in front of her. There was not much to go with, she was sure he could tell.
"Is there anything I can do?" He asked, but she was so focused and weighing her options she didn't reply. She needed to act fast. "What do you have in mind?" came next, as he saw her going for the short pile of clothes too short for him, and fetch a shirt he hadn't been able to fit into. She cut the sleeves set them aside as ideas had finally finished taking shape in her mind.
"Something fun, I think." She said with exhilaration, and ran to the drawers, pulling out a black marker, pearls, another pair of scissors, and more stuff.
She turned to Ren, presenting him with the ears of the scissors.
"Can you cut the sleeves into lengthy bands, not too large and removing any part that aren't smooth?" She asked, and went to work on the piece remaining in her hand as soon as she had his assent.
Once she had cut the collar too, she carved a large stripe of white cloth into it, going from the neck to the bottom rim, inspecting it, and making sure it would be long enough, counting the inches even. Her hands folded it in two then, and she grabbed a needle, focusing on sewing the edges as fast and straight as possible, and once she was done, she took the marker.
She drew on the front, while at the same time beginning to remove her shoes with her toes. She was pushing against the heel of the second one when Ren told her he was done. He looked down amusingly at her feet just before she was done with the second one, and started removing her socks in the same fashion.
Her hand drew the last stroke on her drawing at the same time she thanked him.
She grabbed for the two big pieces of cloth that made it all possible, and a few other scraps she had cut earlier.
"Can you cut two triangle shapes into the rest of the shirt? I have to do my hair and a bigger one on this."She said, showing the small shapeless reddish scrap of cloth in her hand.
He gave a small nod, even if she could see his confusion as to what she was making, but then, he added.
"I can do your hair if you tell me what you want."She stared back, reminded he had been used to help his mother, and smiled.
"I'd like a side braid, mingled with this from the top, and tied at the end with it."She explained, grabbing one of the white bands, and he stole it from her with a grin.
"Easily done." He said, and she scissored the triangles in the different cloths, while he went behind her back and braid her hair, only pausing before he began … to inquire if she wanted a loose or a tight one. The latter confirmed, he was even done faster than she was with the triangles.
She slipped the old black pants she had found in the small pile brought back by Alia in her hands then, cut two third of the length, before cutting another third of the outer sides this time, and did quick work of cross sewing stitches with her needle. Once satisfied, she held it out. It would hold on her, now.
She asked Ren to do more stripes in the worn soft leggings' legs she had just removed and she added the beads to the white triangles' top and sewed a loop to their longer corners.
"Preparations are done."She said, and started opening the buckle of her pants' belt when Ren cleared his throat, making her blush as she had nearly forgotten and just stripped in front of him.
Her thumbs hooked in the belt, she turned to him.
"I will turn around."He said, refusing to look her way, before she could apologize and ask him.
She removed her trousers.
Stepping into the shortened pants, the rim was just reaching a third of her thighs, but it seemed to be holding with the forced size she had made, when she pulled it up. It wouldn't slip from her hips.
Her fingers brushed to the next part, and she puzzled over how to fit it. The cloth was just too long and large in every sense. She was pretty sure it could have served as a light cover up for men, even with their difference of heights. It was a deep plain red, leaning on the burgundy like the dress of any red wine, or maybe like the vibrant heart of a fig.
Her main issue was that if she decided to cut it, it would show. The fabric was too fragile, it would not look right, every little cut she would have made would be seen, even if she was careful. It was thicker than a veil texture, but just. No, her best option was just to go for it. She would pay for it, if they needed her to.
She teared the rims up.
The efficient pulls worked wonderfully, and the fabric gave without resistance in her fingers. She was grateful it was so easy to tear out just the right way, with the kind of material it was.
She saw Ren's body twitch, but his back remained turned from her. She smiled, he was surely wondering what the fuss was she doing.
Measuring the size, she glued it to her body, and once she had removed a few shredded parts, she wrapped it around her waist. Satisfied where it fell around her ankles and the way it rose on the outer side of her right leg–she could be certain it wouldn't hinder her movement–, she grabbed the corners and fastened them at her hip so the knot wouldn't show too much. It looked a bit like ears of a fallen ribbon on her thigh, and the cloth reminded her of the sarongs she had shown off–though this one was red–for the photoshoot, somewhat. However, she was positive this had most likely served as something else altogether before she teared it to size. Maybe a bundle to hide a treasure and hook it high, or something. After some thought, she tightened even more, uncaring if it rose further her leg … just to make sure it wouldn't bulge from its hold around her when she would move fast.
She twirled around, testing it, and only then, did another truth came to light, right from the sun shining upon them, it was sheer. Well, not fully. But sheerer she had thought. But it would have to do.
Now, the torn borders looked purposeful, and made her look more the part of a pirate that doesn't always have the luxury of choosing clothes or that have to be fine with damaged ones … than with clean fancy cuts, all proper and squeezed up.
One after another, she slipped her big toes in the loops she had made on little triangles with pearls, and knot those at the back of her ankles. They didn't find any boots that would have fit her, but Kyoko thought it might be better that way. Barefoot had its pros. And she would walk mostly on wood during the following hour, it would work fine.
She was mostly done with the bottom part, and she embraced her hips with the twofold waistband belt that served to secure the prop sword, making sure it tightened above the cloth of the shawl–for lack of a better word–to avoid friction on her skin, before buckling it.
"I'm decent for now, you can turn if you want."Kyoko said, and not looking at Ren, pivoted to fetch one of the black stripes of clothes he had cut earlier. "If you see anything that looks wrong or doesn't fit, please tell me." She said, lifting her left leg to set it on the treasure trunk, so she could fold the black stripe around her thigh.
He hummed unclearly, and she gave him a quick glance, seeing him staring at her hands, before returning to her task.
Spreading the awfully close-to-layers-of-black-shreds cloth against the front of her thigh, she winded the band on the lower part of her thigh, going from one hand to another, and encasing it in several covers of black, before making a knot on the outer side.
She was ready to grab the final accessory she needed for this half, but just as she was finishing the knot and removing any crease and before she could drop her leg, the prop dagger appeared in her sight. In front of her, Ren handed it to her as if he had known what she planned from the start, and she slipped it in the folds of the black wrappings at her thigh.
"Nothing is at odds?"She asked and he shook his head.
"It looks perfect."He voiced in a tight tone, but she looked up, he was digging a hole into her thigh with his gaze, but he didn't look mad, so she smiled and returned to the desk.
"I just need to work on the top, and I will be ready, hopefully." He gave her a curt smile, and quietly shifted away once more.
She removed her blouse, and grabbed the rest of white, black and red stripes, and the thing she had been drawing on earlier, and swiftly went to put it all on.
—Ren–
He was very much ruling over his mind not to linger on the earlier apparition, and focusing on pondering different routes of improvisation while Kyoko continued prepping herself, hell knew how she did it, too. There had been barely morsels of fabrics resting on that desk. And now, she was wearing that long wrapped-knotted-up thing around her hips, and it was utterly sheer. Each movement she made, he could see her legs tense and move, the material letting him see every action. That big slit letting anyone peek at enough skin to drive you crazy.
When she had lifted her leg to fasten the prop around her thigh…
Lord.
He tightened his arms in front of him, crossing them.
Again and again, he was reminded how toned she was. Taut smooth skin bent at a perfect angle, unsuspecting, it vibrated with feminine strength, ready to be unleashed. Legs as graceful and confident as the smooth lethal gait of a white tiger when she walked, the presence of haste or nerves never appeared to be there anymore. Yet, those same strong legs seemed just as willing to make her leap up with abandon, like a bird free of any shackle.
He was the one feeling like an animal, though. When he desired nothing more than to pounce on her sublime flesh.
What he wouldn't give to be able to kiss up that skin and caress every angle…
It was only when he heard her curse he realized he was drastically failing at keeping his thoughts away from depravity. The grip she had on him would have shamed him if he had not been past caring.
He felt obliged to turn when he heard her curses and struggles, and his mind only caught up with reasons why she might not like that afterwards.
He was captured by the sight once more, staring at the back of her legs moving under the thin vibrant red and the belt rubbing her hip at every movement, before he lifted his eyes and realized she was not wearing her shirt anymore. Two armbands wrapped several times, adorned her wrists, made of the black stripes he had cut. Another piece of shredded white cloth was enveloping her left forearm, with a little knot on the side, and he suspected she had meant to make it look like a bandage covering a wound.
And besides this?
Skin … so much uncovered skin.
Technically, his eyes could see she was trying to fasten at her back a piece of something with her hands, and his mind was already probably getting her curses were coming from that.
But he could barely spare it a speckle of thought.
He could only see that svelte flexed back, stretched the whole length of her height in barely sprinkles of clothes covering her. And the braid he made her, dangling down the sexiest of nude backs.
He felt himself move before awareness caught up, and soon his hands were wrapping around her own fingers grappling at the flaps of fabric at her back.
"Some help?"He proposed, not even grasping he had de facto immobilized her hands.
The heat emitted by her back was warming his hands, now that he was just an inch from touching her, and beyond help, his eyes caressed every patch of skin they were delighted with.
The tattoo, low, at the right size of her back was bigger the one she possessed to the front on the opposite side. This one was maybe the size of his palm, without including his fingers.
But he was distracted from comparing them further when she replied, tone soft and shy.
"Please, yes. I can't bring it to tie it tight enough."
Her hands let go, letting him be the one to hold what he grasped was a fast-improvised bandeau, and his fingers replaced hers in holding the tip wings of the cloth.
Right. Tight. She wanted this tighter, so it would hold her…
He interrupted his thought before it could corrupt every nous remaining in his brain.
The width of it was not even the spread it would take from his thumb to pinkie if he stretched them.
He cursed inwardly.
Barely an inch more than a bra.
"If it feels like it won't work from what you see, I could also tie it on the front, but–"She said when he hadn't moved yet.
More images propelled themselves in his mind, and a shuddering breath escaped him. He wished he could see less right now.
"No."He said strongly. "It will work just well, I think. Just give me a second."
The damage he was taking like this was potent enough. And just imagining granting to every stranger the virtuoso cleavage it would surely give if she did, made a flame of outrage lick his insides.
He grabbed the wings, unconsciously pulling more firmly at them, and she emitted a strangled tiny squeak that sent crashing his previous thoughts in a dubious mix of shame and desire. Acknowledging what pushed her into letting out that sound made him admonish himself for his temper… But less than it tempted him to make her reproduce that squeak, knowing where he should touch her for that to happen.
"Sorry." He mumbled after taking another inspiration.
Focus.
He wondered if she was especially sensitive in that area or if it was just the surprise that made her react this way.
Focus.
Was she sensitive on the back too?
Focus. Focus. Focus.
He fixated his stare on the white fabric wings, trying to forget anything else, even though it was impossible … why did she have to smell so good, seriously? FOCUS. And delicately pull this time.
He was cursed the instant he lifted the fabric off her back to slip one of the flaps under and make the first knot, as just under, ink appeared, revealing a small tattoo.
Tinier than her front one. Way so even, it was just the size of a demure oak leave.
The discreet nature might explain he hadn't noticed it before, besides it being covered by clothes most often … he veered his eyes on it.
It was quite different from the others. Situated on her left shoulder blade, mostly fully inked in black. It was like a full shadow of a fairy blowing little pixie dust in the air, her locks moving by an invisible wind. Only the dust had sparkles of colour. And the wings, a vibrant crescendo of shining blues.
"Ren?"She inquired, sounding uncomprehending at his lack movement once again, he was sure.
"You have another tattoo."He said, in guise of explanation.
"Ah, yes. On the shoulder."She commented. "I told you you hadn't seen them all."
"It is gorgeous."
He inched forward, the urge to see every detail of the drawing too irresistible.
It was more abstract than her others, but now there was a tempting cryptic air to it, like that shadow concealed a secret that needed to be discovered. That made him even more intrigued about them. Their signification–if there was one besides the obvious love for fairies–and how she had chosen them.
"I'd be curious to know where you went to have them made."He commented. There was such care and meticulousness put into this. Every little detail appeared thought out all the way through, and even more importantly, was well apparent and so clear to decipher. He ignored most of the practice of tattooing, but he was sure it could not have come out as cheap to get such a result.
"Did you go to the same place for all of them?"He asked when she didn't reply. Though, technically, it hadn't been a question before.
"Ah … yes, I did."She replied after a second. He could hear her perplexity at his inquisitiveness. But she did not understand, he couldn't help himself.
"Were you the one to come up with the designs or was it something existing?"He asked again, and his index began to trace the contour of it.
"N-no. Well, yes for most of them, but the one at my ankle."She said after another pause. Her skin was so smooth, he couldn't feel the ink of the tattoo at all. But it was there, bright to the sight.
The sensuous strokes of the shadow mystified him, and his thumb brushed the whole of it as his palm wrapped the length of her blade.
A chill ran on her skin under his palm, and he felt an abrupt blaze of possessive joy flare.
The awareness he had been the one to provoke that shudder settling in his guts.
He was aware he was absolutely playing with fire, and it was unlikely her reaction had anything to do with him doing it … and everything to do with where he was touching her.
But as senseless as it could be, the tremendous pride being the one behind her reaction … refused to leave him.
He was expecting plenty amount of rebuffing and scolding for what he just pulled. Instead,
she stumbled back, essentially right into his arms. He felt her heave a deep breath in, before she spoke.
"The knot, Ren?"
"Right. Sorry."
He fastened it, but she inquired about how he had made it, asking he would not tie it with loops in case it caught on something. Once he was done making the double knot, he asked if it was tight enough, and she asked he'd redo it twice, until she deemed it snug enough.
The tips of his fingers grazed down her back as he progressively let go once he reached the bottom tattoo. He should not have done that. She jumped a little near the end.
"You shouldn't do that."She said roughly.
Ah. There it was. The scolding.
"Sorry." He stuck his hands in his jeans' back pockets, safe from touching her but gaze following every ripple her muscles made under her back's skin. He barely resisted leaning down to kiss up her spine.
Damn it.
"You have a very sexy back."He said, poor excuse but it was true.
She inclined her face to the side, not quite turning, but her face. She was quite red, which brought a grin to him before their stares even connected.
"What the hell are you sprouting about?!"She hissed, but the minute she saw his expression, her eyes narrowed and she scowled, finally pivoting to him.
"When you will be done messing with me, maybe you can tell me if it looks alright to go?"
There were many ways he longed to mess with her, but this was not it. And she was not right. It was downright decadent. Unacceptable.
She looked like a fictional heroine roaming the seas in quests of adventures and fights and glory. Freer and wilder than anyone. The weapons at her waist and thigh gave off just enough of a dangerous edge, while the vibrant reddish of the cloak wrapped around her waist brought out tones of passion in her outfit, and accentuated the accents of her golden eyes and hair. The burgundy veil accentuated the lean and fit lines of her legs, and followed up her bust, to the top of her neck.
The white bandeau was just enough her, with its purity matching the kindness of her gaze, that it made it even more subjugating for him, aware that way, she was closer to being herself. But there was the crossed bones and skull on her breast that brought back the dangerousness when you thought it was safe.
She looked the depiction of an unbounded magnetically wild woman.
How she had managed to bring that out with nothing to work with and so little time was above his comprehension. But then, there was so little gray matter in his brain able to properly function right now, it was no wonder too.
She was the damn sexiest thing he had ever seen. Pirate… Woman, anything, and he was very much dying.
He lifted his fist to his mouth, urging to bite into his thumb, if only to clear his mind.
The sour idea people were going to see her like this in such a little while, drove him to want to wrap thick opaque wallpaper around her. Thirty times over.
"Do you see anything amiss?"She asked, clearly unaware, and he was sure she was not inquiring about the real reasons of his turmoil.
How did he tell her he desired nothing more than to bring to the floor into shreds every piece she was wearing, and paw very square of skin she had? Bring out every shudder she would grant him. Unlock every secret behind erogenous zones. Unfold her and tear apart every distance remaining. Unveil every nook, every sensitive spot. Bring her down from ecstasy itself.
And there was the way her outfit was constructed. A few moves away from having her in her most natural attire. Barely.
Two knots … just two knots … why do I feel lightheaded now?
"Ren?" She asked, and he blinked.
Focus … Think … what was her question already?
He inspired. He inspired. Again.
Something amiss. She wanted a critical opinion.
He needed a clinical view, only brain. Reasoning. Come on. He stared at her, nearly shaking with the effort to only pay attention to what might not match, when all he could see was a goddess.
He cleared his throat. Tried again. Finally, he managed to make his mind function.
"The red scarf around your neck," he said eventually, "I think it would be better elsewhere."
She arched her neck in curiosity, the curve appearing.
Don't do that! He moaned internally, driving down every new urge to kiss, to caress that area.
He lifted his hand.
"Do you mind?"
She shook her head, and untied it, presenting the red piece he realized belonged to the same fabric the shawl she had tied around her waist.
"Tilt your head forward a bit?"He demanded, as he closed in, and she obeyed.
He grabbed the corners, and wrapped the fabric around her head in a headband, securing it behind her neck, before stepping back not to be tempted, just letting loose a few stray locks for her, as he backed away. Now, he could see the pendant he had gifted her dangling from her neck. He could also not help to be happy she had opted for more covering cleavage with the bust band. Even with how little it covered of … anything else.
"There."
She smiled. Testing how well it was holding.
"Better?"
He nodded. Yes, she looked even sexier.
She grabbed the tricorn pirate hat, and dropped it on her head.
"There is still the make-up, but for now … how do I look?"
There were many words … many, many words that came to mind, but instead he just said.
"Like a pirate."
She grinned.
He looked down, reminded she was not wearing anything on her feet.
"But will you be OK without shoes?"
She nodded.
"Believe me, it is better this way." She told him, and he watched her go to a drawer, fishing out Khõl and other make-up tools. She pivoted back to him, sporting a nefarious grin.
"Now, sit down so we can grant you some fierceness, Mr. Pirate."
He could have told her he could apply basic mascara, thanks to many of his different roles requiring it. Though, he suspected she had something a little more elaborated than just mascara in mind. Still, he stayed quiet, sat on the trunk.
She held his face, and he was thankful the times he had to close his eyes were more than a little present, as he was doing his best to look everywhere but on the amount of skin tempting him.
Especially when he already had a hard time cooling down from earlier mishap.
She applied a couple of dark colours, going from shades to Khõl to mascara, but it was done all too soon, she stepped back.
She did the same for her, just replacing the black shades by scarlet ones, then grab the marker, and made him a cross of bones on the cheek. He made her sit and did the same for her afterwards.
She inspected them both with a critical stare, clearly analysing if anything was missing, ending up adding made-up armband around his right wrist, after reconfirming it was his strong hand.
Then, after a minute, she stopped looking at every speck of their costumes, and switched back to him.
"What do you think?"
He smiled fondly, setting back an astray hair behind her ear.
"I think you outdid yourself." And he was right, they still have twenty minutes before going out.
She coloured a little, looking pleased, shot him a merry smirk.
She let go of a breath, and he realized she must have been more anxious to make it in time than he had been. He had had full faith in her, so he had it easy.
She hopped up to sit on the desk, leaning on hands behind her and crossing her legs, merciless in her obliviousness as her calves and thighs peaked through, and he drifted his gaze away.
"Now, what do we do with the improvisation?" She said, more pondering to herself than really asking him. She didn't look all too concerned, and he was damn sure it would go perfectly awesome. But he guessed knowing the best angle to take beforehand could be good.
"I think we only have two questions to solve, and we'll be fine."
"Such as?" she said, smiling.
"Friends or adversaries when it starts."
She tilted her head back, and her braid fell down the side of her neck, and she scoffed.
"That's obvious."
"Foes."They said at the same time.
"I thought you would agree but I had to ask."
Nodding, and she returned to the subject.
"And the second?"
"Do we finish as such?"
"Hmm … I find both have potential, but– "
She shrugged, making him grin inwardly as she explained.
"We can finish as enemies if you prefer, but I'd find it more interesting if we ended up differently."
"I'd prefer that too, actually."
Jack, Alia and Al Jo came back when only ten minutes remained, and gaped at them as if they had seen an alien. Ren couldn't blame them, they looked fucking great, if he dared say so himself.
"No way…"Jack said.
"How did you do this?"Alia whispered, turning around them with disbelief on her face. "I merely brought the coat and the boat, I hadn't even hope in the rest. Let alone the old stuff already here."
He saw Kyoko shuffle, as she usually did when she found herself in the centre of attention, especially if that one was favourable, and she lifted her hand, clearly going to mess her hair, as usual, before dropping it when she realized the headband was covering them. Instead, she started playing with her braid ponpon.
"It necessitated some shifts … and I pretty much destroyed my friend's outfit, but yes, it turned out OK."
"I find the new style of my clothes not that bad, you know." Ren said, but his comment was drowned into the exclamations of the others.
"OK? OK?!" Alia said. "That is not just OK. You had to work with modern clothes and turned them into this in less than an hour, and– … did you do needlework on the shorts there?! And the white bandeau?! If you didn't have already a job, I would hire you on the spot."She declared, twirling faster and faster around Kyoko.
"Actually, those were too large pants and an old shirt, and I tore them apart to make the bandeau, short, and armbands."Kyoko explained. "So, I would fully understand if you charged me a fee for it, and asked me to reimburse them."
Jo suddenly burst out, laughing his head off.
"As if we would make you pay anything … you are the ones saving our asses, right now."
Jack nodded, but Ren felt like he was not really listening, his eyes remained on Kyoko, and his mood sour.
Oh yes, he knew what was happening. Poor soul should be blind not to notice. And there would be a whole lot more seeing how absolutely dead gorgeous she was in minutes.
He barely held a growl when the young man's gaze fixated itself on her peeking leg, clearly enthralled.
"And the red skirt?" was asking Alia in the meanwhile, and Kyoko made a move in the direction of one of the drawers.
"I found a couple of large cloths in the cabinet, I had to cut it down to make it a skirt," she started, "I hope I didn't damage something that served as a special sail or to hide something in the show, but it was way too big to wear as it was so…"
The woman waved her hand away, clearing saying it was nothing to worry about, and opened her mouth to fire another assault of starved-with-curiosity questions, but Al Jo cut in.
"Alia, maybe now is not the time to talk needles and sewing."He said, before turning their way.
"In any case, it is extraordinary you could do this, and I can't be grateful enough you were able to pull something like this." The man took a deep inspiration.
"It is about to start. Are you ready?"
They smiled, both in response to his gratitude and his question, and nodded.
—
SHOWTIME
Kane peered up at the boat, unimpressed.
The crowd was gathering on the sides, and in the middle. To his displeasure.
But he had had the foresight of picking a good enough spot he could still see.
Not that he had the conviction it would be worth any penny to watch. Since they had insisted on not giving up the show. Despite him being privy–thanks to his friend warning him–on how precarious the chances had been of them making it in time to present anything.
Yet, when Jo had come back, complexion recovered from his earlier drained-by-annoyance outlook, he guessed they had managed to find something, or someone, remotely correct to pick out their mess from utter failure. Oh, alright, it was not their fault actors had got into an accident or that their budget was still barely a dime to have backups.
Nonetheless, it hadn't sufficed to raise his hopes. It might make it tolerable to watch, but it wouldn't mean it would be of any interest for what he had come for. And he was still considering leaving to make better use of his time.
That was ten minutes ago, however.
But ten minutes before, when Jo had returned, winking at him and twirling his moustache, glowering with mischief and delight … then, he had put back down both of his butt cheeks he had just squeezed in and lifted, as he had stood, and had crossed his legs again.
That had looked promising enough to stay. His old friend did not mess with his moustache–just imagine the time it needed to polish and brush it right gave him shudders–, for nothing.
Now, defaulted from his premise intents, he thought he might at least enjoy himself a tad.
The deck had vacated of tourists in the last hour, but also filled with what he knew to be the crew, though most had concealed themselves away behind void angles, or various furniture, and he could barely see them.
Not that they mattered much, he knew as well as the one executing it, most of them were the background characters of the spectacle. If they intended to salvage their show in any amount of way, they'd not only need a good share of luck, but leads that could carry whatever unexpected were bound to be added with how screwed the original show had been.
It still appeared a little too far-fetched, quite frankly. To recover with so many new components … and more, so many to discard. The inability to make it happen seemed much more likely than the reverse.
Yet, it was happening.
He frowned. Not able to reconcile the sudden change of attitude of his friend with credible potential and reality.
More crew stepped onto the deck, coming from who-knew-where, but they just stood on the side, not dissimulating themselves at all.
Then, a shadowed figure appeared on the deck, cloaked entirely, he was unable to distinguish who was behind. But light on their feet, they disappeared nearly as quickly as they had come, behind a mast. And despite his scrupulous scrutiny on all he could see of the deck, he was not able to even narrow-down where they could be. And he was standing closer than earlier. He had taken the opportunity to find a closer, but not less sight propitious to the ship, area when the surroundings had voided in disappointments. It had filled again the moment it was announced the show would after all take place as planned, but he had maintained his spot.
A petite feminine form walked down the gangplank ladder, stopping midway and holding a pen and megaphone in her hands, before asking for silence in a clear strong voice, and warning the show would start imminently.
She left the ship then, and walked to sit to the side.
A couple of breaths passed before the heavy door he supposed led to the cabins opened, and careful heavy steps echoed in the now silent gathering of people as a humongous someone stepped out.
Everyone held their breaths as the high stature menacing aura seeped on and around the deck, his back profile tight and strong, but so eerily at ease it was unsettling.
One second had been all that he took that actor to drift apart the excited mood to nervousness and chills.
He inclined his head ever-so-slightly, inching toward a pirate played by an actor Kane had briefly learned was named Jack.
His face's contours escaped the shadows curtaining it, and sunlight hit the handsome frigid giant expression for an instant. A collective gasp went through the rows of people at seeing the man. But it was a strangled little thing, halted by the controlled stone face of the pirate.
Kane felt the public lean in. Captivated.
The man was wearing a long heavy coat, and the proverbial hat of the profession, but he had to admire whoever managed to devour his clothes into tatters. Worn to the bone and filled with cuts and tears, the pants looked nearly like old rags. Yet, they kept up enough style and a good cut it'd give the impression the person wearing them had no value to hold on what they were wearing, while adding to the old-fashioned and wild outlook. But if his eyes were not mistaken, it had been jeans under all that.
The man on the side, locked in the gaze of the taller pirate looked scared, terrified even, and the tension grew. The chilly man tilted his head further, not letting go of his shivering subaltern.
'"Did you search everywhere?"'A low held-with-power-and-control voice demanded, boring into the smaller man eyes. And suddenly, Kane felt himself fall into the scene, unable to analyse anymore, as he wondered what they had been searching that made it so serious.
'A-aye, Captain.'
'And you didn't find anything? Not even one living soul?'
The man stood a little straighter and shook his head.
'They must be here, though, they had nowhere to run.'
'They are. Just hidden somewhere. But we will find them.'
'Scout them out! Even if you have to ferret them out of their holes!'
His men pulled out their sabres.
'Aye, Captain!'His men said.
'And don't scramble back to tell me there is no one. They might be concealed by magic, or something else… But they are here, I can feel them.'
'Aye, Captain!' They said again, and scattered around in search of the pirates. They rushed through the deck, sparing no corner, no covered bag, ransacking things as they went. Kicking astray barrels from the quarter deck, making them roll in an exploding boom down the stairs. Running their blades through what could appear to be filled with merchandise, but might have stashed their opponents instead.
All the while, you could hear the slow sure steps of the Captain as he gaited after them, unhurried.
Fraught silence fell when the last of them came back from the cabin empty-handed.
' … how do I have to say it?' the shuddering-ly-controlled voice echoed after a minute. 'Strip this boat to splinters if you need, but scour me out the bunch.'
'Aye, Captain.' They replied as one man, but a high-pissed growl was suddenly heard, making the whole come to a halt.
'What business of yours have you destroying my ship?!' A voice, definitively feminine, boomed from somewhere above their gang.
But Kane was unable to pinpoint where on the ship.
A dull thud thumped from the left as the captain and his mates' eyes roamed the ship, seeking the source of the voice.
To the attentive ear, it could have been perceived as the bump feet would do landing on the ground.
A high woman, stand strong and powerful, supported by airy steps and a threatening posture revealed her shape from behind a mast, and advanced a few metres in the direction of the captain, while still maintaining a safe distance from all of them.
Kane had to do a double take when it suddenly came to the forefront of his mind it was the same woman from earlier, the one who had played for the little girl. She looked so different he hadn't even recognized her. Sporting smoky eyes and a plait, she wore countless pieces of tiny fabrics around her extremities, with a white piece covering her bust just so, and a sheer shiny asymmetric skirt. Coupled with a few fastened blades and the famous hat, she now screamed dangerous and untamed.
This new discernment made him aware the captain was most certainly the man that accompanied her earlier.
So, that's how they did it, he thought, bemused. But scepticism crept in just as soon as the comprehension hit. They had brought two complete amateurs into the game. Playing for a little girl was not the same as executing a full show, and they certainly had not had the chance to learn any line or scenarios in such a short time! The chance to blow it was close to a definite.
But what else could they do? He had been conscious of their lack of choice, that is why he had been so frustrated. The woman unsheathed her sabre, pointing it forward, and his thoughts cut off to focus on the show.
'If you don't want my sword to be coated by your body and your blood, you'd better don't touch a nail of this boat, and get your arses off my ship. She snapped at them.
'Not until we get our hands on the maps and the goods of this ship, Lass.'The captain replied with a smile that seemed genuine enough she inclined her sabre an inch.
'Captain.'She said with a cold stare.
'All the same, Captain Lass.'He replied to her with a smirk, and she narrowed her eyes. 'Maps and supplies, and we leave.'
'My maps and my goods.'She highlighted with a clenched smile.
'Only until we put our hands on them.'
'And If I refuse?'
The click of a blade being unsheathed rang in the air, and the lean man drew a joint of his sabre out with his thumb.
'Then, I'm afraid you will have to parry my blade …'The captain said with a desolated look, 'But careful … it would pain me to scratch a beautiful creature like you, young lass.'
His eyes switched to frost determination as, Captain to captain, his gaze bored at her, 'but I would not hesitate to run you through my sabre, if you force me to'.
The woman darkening smile turned murderous as she drove back her blade in a defensive position, 'I guess parleys are over.'
His expression shifted to disappointment, and calculation, then quiet thoughtfulness replaced it all as the shine of his weapon returned to its scabbard. But the lady pirate didn't give him another spare glance, or a dime of her time to listen anymore.
She heaved her blade high in the sky, shouting to the world to hear.
'Storm them!'
And her crew rushed from their hideouts to flood their opponents.
Kane had to admit it was not too bad as a lead-in into the scene, and-
Both crews crashed into each other, screams, jumps swords flying erupting from everywhere.
But then, it stopped. Abruptly. Even more so than it had begun. Because the male captain had spoken.
'We will solve this from captain to captain.'
Swords in the air eased down, back steps were taken, and nods were given.
'Aye, Captain.'
Golden eyes glowered with anger and challenge. Yet, it was like a new form of respect and amusement shined in her orbs.
'Who said I was willing to cross any weapon with you?'
'Would you rather your mates to run through my lone sword?'He retorted.
'Rat, you're arrogant, aren't you?'He grinned in response, the thumb still on the weapon's handle.
'So, what do you say, lass?'He asked again. 'A dance to the death?'
Her proud carry of her head rose, if possible, to an even leaner stance, bringing a grace you did not expect in her kinds, and that detonated in the shreds she wore. Like a swam wearing rags.
And her skirt barely ruffled when she carried her head down in a perfect inclination of a bow, arms widely stretched in the air, yet it was felt in every bone of every mate, every pirate, every person in the public … it was every bit the reverence of mockery.
Head still down, she rose her eyes to his meet, smile glowing with the glimmer of mischief but gold shine of a stare filled with murder.
'Yours, it will be.'
The clicker of a blade coming out again was barely ringing, upright she was, sabre folded back and guarding her front.
This time the face that replied to her provocation was every bit as dark as hers, as a hefty coat was discarded behind the heel of huge feet, revealing the heavy muscles taunting a poorly preserved shirt.
If one had been paying sharpened attention, they would have seen the careful examination for weaknesses and holes that followed in the woman stare, and a tightening of her back at the realization of the opponent she was facing.
Everyone held their breaths as the hum of the blade vibrated through the air when the captain finally lifted his sword toward the woman.
He was surprised so far they had held their own, he had a hard time believing they had improvised all that. Most likely, they had had a peek at the script of the formerly planned show, and had managed to remember the script up until this point at least. But that would probably end soon, especially because those kinds of shows usually had stunts, and Kane doubted those amateurs had the level to carry not only bits of scenes, but stunts too.
No one really knew who stepped up first. They were two tall figures, facing each other on the deck, surrounded by their respective crews guarding their backs. Eyes locked on every subtle change, or movement made by their adversary. The red of the shawl skirt of the lady captain stood out against the wood browns all around them, and cut through the many whites of shirts, of sails…
But all of sudden … they were crossing swords. No.
Not crossing.
Crushing them against their opposite one. Rushing to their encounter, blades raging their clinks. Provoking each following move with the daring ones that preceded. Pushing them to their limits.
Kane could admire their determination to render realism to the scene. Their knowledge in sword-fighting was obviously really basic, maybe nonexistent even. But the pure will to fight of their characters sufficed to convince his every cell it was a duel that would grant no mercy.
Each blade clanged with such a force it could be heard from everywhere in the creek, and you could sometimes see the wrists of the woman shook from the strength applied.
Clank, clank, clank.
They moved back and forth, two steps forward for one, two steps back for the other, and again and again, avoiding several times their hands being robbed from their swords, so fast it was going, and defending with all they had. They both had one goal, and their sabres were singing its bloody password for them.
Still, little by little, one thing was starting to appear … the difference of strength between their arms. Slowly, despite her efforts, the woman was being pushed back. Step by step. Going from an alternation of attacks and defences … to remaining in guarding stances oftener, and blocking his sword at every hit. More and more, she was being cornered. By the sheer brute force of the sword. Less room to move, led back against barrels … then, when she avoided them by a whisker, closing in on a mast.
Her arms were trembling against the pure strength of each thrust dropped on her sword, even as her gaze continued to blaze with bloody focus.
Until…
CLANG.
She parried at the last second the especially loud hit, and held for her blade like a mad woman when he attempted disarming her, before disengaging as if her life depended on it, and took several light steps back, dancing on her toes as she evaded. A blur of gold, red and white, and glowing skin.
You could see the decisive stare forming a decision on her face, as the male captain leapt after her.
She jumped.
Somersaulted herself away and in the air.
To a barrel.
'Nice try.'
'We'll see.'He fired back.
He removed a dagger from his waist, and threw it at her.
It missed her by a metre, but she didn't wait to see where it landed. She jumped from the barrel to the mast, hoisting herself up the wood pole for a good couple of metres, and just as the tiny blade was landing into the wood, she was jumping again.
From above this time, the lean vision of red and gold had propelled herself down into the ratlines of the next mast.
The high man stood motionless, gaze shimmering with astonishment, as was everyone for an instant, as she deftly climbed the shrouds with her sword in hand, before securing the dagger to him again, and following after her.
She climbed to one of the crow's nest, him fast to catch up to her, advantaged by tall legs and superior strength.
That is a damn good spectacle thrown at us Kane thought, too surprised by the level of focus and acrobatics the actors were freely giving, to analyse the perfection or ameliorations to envision of the skills displayed in front of him.
She had heaved her body inside the crow's nest by the time he spoke again, barely two metres down from her.
'Are you planning to surrender any time soon?'he inquired, jumping to the other side of the ratlines for a better access.
'Are you ready to die?'She countered, and he smirked.
He pulled off the dagger again, sliding it between his teeth as he closed in.
'There is nowhere left to run, lass.'
She had seen him unfortunately for him, and the moment he was close enough, she held her body off the ground with both hand on the edge of the crest, and smirked at him as he reached. Seconds seemed to tear bottomlessly as they looked at each other–eyes glowing, one with understanding, the other with plans–before she hit him square in his chest with the flat of her feet, coming from between her hands.
He was thrown backwards and down in a wink, and only salvaged his fall near the middle of the fall, catching himself to the cordage of the shrouds when they started to incline at an angle.
Time stopped as he caught his breath, and the lady captain gazed down at him in beat silence until he stared up in her direction. Then, she broke their gazes, and begun to look frantically for an escape again.
Kane could not believe they had done that. That stunt had been so risky he was still wondering if they had truly succeeded into doing it. Had she pushed a little too hard, or had he been a little less agile … he could have really fallen down to the bottom. There was no way it was improvised to perform such a thing without a risk… But he could not imagine a world where they had the time to repeat such a stunt or find anyone to do this after only hearing of it an hour from actually attempting the stunt.
But the alternative of full improvisation of this … he ignored the existence of any actors knowing each other enough to trust and do such a level of impro. Let alone brushing the ability as actors needed to perform such a thing, with or without a partner.
'You are quite supple with your legs, lass captain,' he said, rising up through the lines once more, though slower, 'maybe I should not kill you after all.'
She barely gave him a glance, seeking something from above no one seemed to understand the source–she looked well-and fully trapped, until he continued.
'Keeping you and use those legs for more … voluptuous activities might be making better use of this suppleness of yours."He finished after an intended pause.
She sputtered violently, even blushed a little, finally glancing down at him and giving him the full attention of her outrage.
'You mean as a prisoner.'She spitted.
He heaved himself to the next cross-rope, 'That's one way to see it.' And he took another level up.
'Arse … that's the only way to see it.' But then, her face lightened up and she smirked. 'It will be without me.' She sang, and then … she jumped the other side of the mast, off the crow's nest, just one metre under the height the pirate currently was … but on the opposite side of it. She grabbed the mast between her two thighs–since there weren't any shrouds on this side–, the red skirt's cloth parting as she did so, and the male face darkened. His eyes boring into her move.
She winked at him, and let go of the mast. She balanced herself in the air, her hands holding a hanging rope going down to move to another mast, the one she had originally jumped from, and her feet landed on a high beam leaning nearly upright against it. The thickness of it left just enough room on the top flat square to welcome her two nude feet.
She was down by a couple of levels, but at least a good seven to eight metres above the ground, still.
The beam was nailed into the mast, and they saw her testing it–doing little hops to be accurate–a couple of times before her gaze pivoted in the direction of the captain again. He was still in the ratlines, gaze ablaze by a bewitching God-smack fever, but jaw tight and face scornful.
'Sick of running after me?'She shouted out to him.
The grin he gave her was a little terrifying as he replied.
'Never.'
'You like to live through risks of disappointment.'
'Risk is part of the job.' Determination shined on his face. 'I think I will keep you, indeed.'
'I'm no pet, you scum!'
He shrugged, and he gave her heavy eyes.
'You will be mine.'
She made a face at him.
'Handling this bastard captain of yours much, you all?' She shouted down to his gang.
'Aye!' They all shouted in response, voices thick with amusement.
'Canons sure did a wonder to the sanity of this one.' She added, looking unimpressed.
'I'm perfectly pirat-y and hasty to capture you, lass.' He countered smoothly.
'Blow the scum down, captain!' Shouted back her own crew.
'Right on that.'She growled, and earned herself a chuckle.
'If you fail, you are mine, lass.'He warned.
'You would have to be alive and tie me down first.'
'I'll take an oath to that.'He said, climbing down with the intent to find the same cordage she used.
'I will murder you first.'She hissed, face bathed in fury. Before suddenly calming down.
'But first,' she started, 'let's see how you cope with that.'
She hoisted herself a few inched above, holding the mast she was leaning on, and another loose rope in each hand.
Then, carefully, she set her feet on a straight tight rope, fastened one way to the other between the two masts, it was nearly fully horizontal, and after landing on it, she fastened the cord she had been holding around her waist in a tight knot, and placed the heart of her feet slightly crossed on the tightrope.
'I wonder if you will have the guts to follow here, uh.'
Then, she began her advance.
Threads of thin amber escaped the crown of her head, of a loosening braid, windblown by a breeze coming from ajar windows, up and beyond in the roof of the castle's creek, and her feet progressed with ease.
The red cloth undulated around her legs, fluttering like the wings of the precipitated bird, fearing for its balanced soaring. Yet, she proceeded undeterred, clear blade shining to the twinkling sun.
There wasn't a pin of sound as she tightrope-walked the thick cordage, precisely, carefully … making her way to the middle. The cheers of the public, the screams of encouragement … and insults of the respective crews all happening before and at once… Void. Nothing subsisted. None could bear it. No one could utter the shudder of a sound.
Kane's gaping mouth could have welcomed a colony of flies as he stared at the unadulterated audacity of the actress as she walked confidently on the tightened cord hanging high in the air, metres above any proper floor.
Her partner actor was barely holding it in, he thought, as the mask of professionalism slipped for one infinitesimal thread of instant, showing a terror for the actress like he had rarely seen, before the mask was set back into place, rooted like nothing was aloof.
You … Lass … you like to play with life.'He said, eyes so fixated on her every move, it felt like they had stopped their ability to wink or move at all–even as more amazement glowed in them–, while he climbed down the difference of levels they had between each other.
She scoffed.
'You were trying to murder me minutes ago.'
'Pirates are whimsical … and it would be … not pretty, if you fell.'
She took another step, and another, finally halfway through.
'Please…'She said, and their gazes locked a little longer than expected as her smile switched to nearly reassuring before boldness replaced its tone. 'It is not my first time around, you wussy.'
His returned grin was tight and displeased.
She made another step, and then several others, reaching two thirds of the distance.
He reached around the same height as hers when she was only a couple metres away, and the sabre she had unsheathed, lifted to point in his direction.
'Now … on guard.' She said grimly and took another step.
Her opponent didn't lift his weapon in her direction, however, just tilted his head, bemused scepticism showing.
'The lass is at a disadvantage, it would not be fair.'
She sighed.
'Since when pirates play fair?' She said, and if one had been able to see at the angle, they would have noticed the half-contained grimace of the man, after being given a very obvious NG.
'I have no use fighting you anymore … I have made myself clear, lass.'
'I will not surrender unless you beat me, scum!'She retorted.
'And I will not forfeit the life of a woman I wanna bed!'
That last comment destabilized her, and she slipped for a second, and a hand shot in her direction just before she stabilized herself, at the last second.
'So presumptuous…'She growled out, 'Think before considering me harmless, or I will slaughter you.' And she made two other steps, only one metre away from him this time.
'Not even a dime of chance, lass.'
'Try me!' She said again, throwing her blade only threads away from his face, and he deviated last second.
'I would very much like to.' He whispered loudly, with so much underlined intents it made everyone around blush.
This time, there was no salvaging, and the moment her foot slipped, she fell. Dropping from her stance on the rope at once, a face of surprise but no fear colouring her expression as she did.
A collective gasp was heard, even … louder … sparse screams at the sight. The tense held atmosphere getting so close up you could do nothing but watch the fall happen in stun-locked silence.
The captain jumped after her, a rope in one hand as he dove to secure his arm in a lock around her waist, catching her still metres above from the ground, and perfectly unaware or uncaring she had had a safe rope around the waist.
They twirled around the mast on their descend, and landed harshly into the cordage. The woman tightly pressed against the crossed lines by the tense-muscled shape of the man as he embraced her waist and the ratlines in a crushing lock. In effect, supporting the both of them by his legs securing footing at one line, and by the arm that had not been holding the rope.
The captain's hand was raw and bleeding as he let go of the rope with his other arm, and even from the public rows you could see his shaking. The woman was staring at it like everyone else, shocked.
Another pulsing quietness bumped off, as the crews stared at them, and he heaved struggling words.
' … I think … you owe me … Lass.'He said, words cut by his breathing. 'My deal still stands.'
She narrowed her eyes at him, and the dagger that belonged to the man ended against his throat, robbed from him.
'That's another form of coercion, Captain.'She cursed.
'Only if you wanna consider it as such.'He retorted, this time merrily. Assuringly.
She pushed her face into his, glowering.
'I will not be. Anyone. Prisoner.' He pondered her words, grinning all of sudden then, when an idea illuminated his face.
'What about … partners?'
Her face remained suspicious, even in her precarious position, and how tight he was holding her waist, and not once, did the man seem to feel threatened by the blade against his throat.
'What sort of … ploy is that … now?'She asked, reluctantly.
'None of that… Shareholders.'He said in way of a proposition.
'Of maps and foods, of course.'He said, and her gaze angered again. 'Of both ships.' He added, and the woman captain brain wheels started to turn as she quieted.
'And of bounties and any treasure found.'
She lifted the dagger from his skin, and made it twirl between her fingers, looking at it twists between them as she thought.
'What's the trickery?'
He smiled.
'None, lass.'
She narrowed her eyes at him again, not duped in the slightest.
'What's the catch, then?'
He tightened his hold on her, and tilted down.
'Only one. You are.'
She rolled her eyes at the double meaning intended, and pointed her newly acquired dagger at him.
'Explain.'
'My words are my bonds, lass,'He said, eyes dancing, but tone serious, 'You are mine.'
She pointed the blade at her face, unable to extirpate herself from his hold, and have some distance.
'That's the catch?' She asked, dubious. 'Me? Only me, and the deal holds?'
He grinned.
'That's plenty enough, Lady Captain.'
'You do know you would be signing out of advantages?'She said again.
The smirk he directed in her direction was a little too nefarious, and she tilted a half-grin, half-convinced.
'I assure you I do not think this way, lass.'
'But,'he added as in an afterthought, grinning again, 'to be as clear as a Caribbean sea, it will only count if we're not just friends, lass.'
'I had understood your impure intentions in my regards the first time around, Captain.' She grumbled.
He laughed. Very low.
'Truly?'He inquired, reaching close, and plucking a lock of free hair back into her braid as he lifted one of her thighs with his other hand, grabbing it firmly. 'Because, I'm warning you, I'm ravenous, Lady Captain.'
She stared at him like he was crazy, and coloured, before turning away with a groan. Yet, a slow grin could be seen forming on her face.
She lifted her index.
'Crew and ship safe?'
He nodded.
'Real partners?'
He nodded again.
'And how do you even propose that … arrangement to hold, with two ships to lead, huh?'She inquired, unable to cross her arms, but plenty to show her doubts of the enterprise succeeding.
He pressed her harder on his chest, smelling victory.
'Obviously, your crew would lead your ship behind us, while you spend the majority of your time on mine.'
She leaned on the mast's lines with her back, though he was maintaining his hold around her just as tightly.
'So arrogant.'
'Is that a yes I heard, lass?'He said, instead.
'Do I even have a choice?'She grumbled in response.
He shrugged as he replied.
'We are pirates after all, Lady Captain.'
She sighed.
'Then … yes, Captain.'
Another heavy silence followed as they stared at each other with grins and he held her.
Then, both crews began to cheers and said: 'Kiss! Kiss! Kiss! Kiss to seal the deal!'
Tilting his head, the captain drew close, bringing their lips barely tiny inches apart, but at the last second…
The lady pressed the top of her palm on his lips, breaking his approach.
'Sorry, Mate, but you will have to work a little harder for that to happen.'She teased with a challenging smile to his attention.
Letting her body rest on the ratlines, his unharmed hand let go of her waist–though he did not retreat–, and he grabbed the fingers pressed against his lips, and sensually bite into the apple of her hand. Nibbling it several times, before breathing hotly against the bitten area to gaze at the owner of said hand with a driven stare, and butterfly-kissing the zone one last time, as soft as whispers.
'To that vow, I swear, Lass.' And he rubbed his nose in the heart of her palm … before letting go. And slowly they began their descend through the cordage one last time.
Loud applause erupted around, as the public suddenly roared, comprehension the show had come to an end landing once the two captains, then the crews, pivoted to the public for the first time, and bowed to everyone.
His sight gyrated on the two actors, Kane stared with all the fixation and the obsession of a bird of prey. The moment the spectacle had ended, the beautiful lady in question had one care, and that was for the bleeding hand of her partner, which she took delicately in both her hands. And though they were close enough to peek at their every expression with more accuracy, now, it was still hard to notice if the man was pained at all by his hand. What was abundantly crystal, however, was how pissed he was, if Kane was to guess by the argument they were having on the sidelines while the crew greeted the rest of the public a couple of minutes past the first welcome given to the two stars.
But he had only eyes for the two of them.
He was persuaded his ocular orbs still stood out their sockets since the time the actress had tightrope-walked. No script or bullshitting Disney stuff could have made any amateurs do this unless the actress already knew how to.
And yet, her partner had panicked and jumped after her. But then, they had tied the scene with a nice amazing little bow, as if it had always been the plan.
Kane counted in his head, lifting fingers as he did.
The lines. The tones.
Two fingers popped.
The swords crossing.
Another one rose.
The improvisation. At least a portion of it must have been invented on the spot, there was no other way.
And another.
The mad stunts!
The fifth one lifted. He began to count on his other hand.
The emotions! The passion in their roles.
Two more.
The expressions.
An eight finger rose.
The impressive professionalism they portrayed… Even faced with unplanned things like her fall, and his panic, he mentally added.
Everything in his blood screamed pros. They were pros, hardcore ones even. And by some pure miracle, they had been at the right place and at the right time to save the asses of this show today.
But he disregarded that latest information. He did not want to think about the big ears of Mouse Castle right now.
Only one absolute thought consumed his full scope of attention, the totality of his thoughts.
He wanted them.
No. He needed them.
He had found them.
PS: Hello everyone. You have been waiting for it, you have been suspecting it, so here it is. The improvisation.
I hope I will have given it justice.
I was not in my top tier shape, honestly. Stuff happened...Beavers dam flooding us, to be exact. And I'm a little sick after diving into our brook to remove it.
Yet, that is a thing.
Anyway, I hope you will enjoy this, and pardon me if I missed typos and the such.
I hope you will love it. Kisses.
Happy beginning of Autumn and full moon. Yes, full moon is today.
Mimagfan.
AUTHOR OUT.