The Flight of the Valkyrie
Mar. 23rd, 2011 10:56 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ladydeathfaerie posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
marysuevirusTitle: The Flight of The Valkyrie
Chapter Twelve: Leaving
Fandom: something like the Marvel Universe
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: lots of sex and violence, language, anything else i can toss in. flagrant abuse of a Scots accent and loads of pirates. much badly mangled pirate speech
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of Marvel. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. the Sues are the sole property of their originators, Ginevra, Dazzledfirestar, Nanaea, SilverFoxChan and ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.
The Flight of the Valkyrie - The Index
The night air was crisp and cool, a soothing touch to her cheek as she strolled through the shadows silently. There were a few night birds on the island, night birds that added their song to the darkness. The faint chirping of insects and the soft sound of small prey animals echoed out of the trees. It felt good out here, away from all of the milling bodies in the hall. Rosemary closed her eyes and allowed the sea breeze to flow over her face.
She knew she should be inside with the rest of her crew, partaking of Thor's hospitality. It was, after all, their last night on the island. He'd provided them with an amazing feast. But with it being their last night on the island, that meant that this was the last night she would have the opportunity to roam the land by herself. The moment they put out to sea in the morning, she'd be trapped on board the ship with the rest of the crew. Though it was only about two dozen people, the ship wasn't as large as an island and she always felt as if she was caught in a trap. She wanted to put the time she had left on the island to good use.
It would seem, though, that this night would be spent contemplating the things she'd just heard. As she'd been slipping from the hall, a small group of men had passed by her on their way in. Rosemary had been allowed a moment to think that the man leading the group had looked vaguely familiar. But he'd let himself into the hall so quickly that she'd not had the opportunity to have a better look at him.
She'd stood there, just on the other side of the doors, her curiosity fully engaged. And she'd done something she rarely allowed herself to do. She'd used her sensitive hearing and listened in on what the new arrival had said to their host. Imagine her surprise when the man said he was there to collect the murderer of his brother. But that surprise was blown flat by the words of Lord Stark as he introduced the new comer as Samuel Lord. The younger brother of Robert Lord.
The younger Lord's voice had rung out, echoing clear and strong around the hall. "Information brought to me not more than a few days ago says that Robert's murderer is here. I have come to take the bastard into custody. I will see to it that they pay for their crime. Robert's young son was left without his father. His death will be avenged and I will be the one to avenge it. I will not leave until I have accomplished my mission."
She pondered that as she absently strolled. Someone in Thor's hall had murdered Robert Lord. Of course she'd heard of the man. She didn't think there was a living soul in all of England who hadn't. The man had been a legend among members of his own sex, young and old alike. He was still known as one of the most notorious rakes to ever set foot on the British Isles. What had made matters worse was that the women, all of the women, had wanted to be his next conquest. It wasn't surprising that someone had murdered him.
Who would have murdered the notorious Robert Lord? A jealous husband to a woman he'd slept with? A jealous woman who had been thrown aside for a newer, younger lover? And how would such a person have ended up at Thor's hall? Rosemary had gotten the impression that only certain people could find his hall. People like her and her friends. Did that mean that it was someone with Witchbreed powers? That could be any of the refugees that crowded the hall.
Rosemary deftly avoided an exposed root as she turned that thought over in her mind. She tried recalling everything she knew about Lord, but it seemed that her knowledge was lacking. She knew that there had been many women associated with Lord after his wife's death. She knew that the man they knew as Remy apparently bore a startling resemblance to Robert Lord. She knew, though she hadn't said anything to anyone, that Dare had obviously felt something for Lord. Anytime his name was mentioned around the Scots wench, her scent changed and became just a little more interesting.
In fact, now that Rosemary thought about it, that scent had been lingering and growing heavier ever since Remy had shown up. Whether the woman knew it or not, it was obvious to Rosemary that her friend had deep feelings for the man. And it had also become obvious to her that Lord Anthony Stark had feelings, too. For Dare. This past week had told her that much. She'd also seen that Dare was flaunting whatever relationship she shared with Remy in Stark's face. The man was slowly, gradually losing his temper with the display.
She wondered. It looked as if Dare and Stark had known one another for some time. And word had it that Lord had been killed some five years past. If Dare had known Lord Stark at the same time she'd known Robert Lord... The thought that rolled through her mind brought her feet to a halt. Was it possible? Had Lord Anthony Stark killed Robert Lord in a jealous rage? Would he have done something like that? And if he had, did that mean that Dare was in danger?
The notion that Stark might hurt her friend saw her falling into a minor panic. She turned to retrace her steps, rapidly, to the building that dominated the island. But her steps were brought up short when she found that the man she'd seen last night, the one who reminded her of James, stood directly behind her. The smile that spread across his face set her on edge. He lifted a hand and reached for her, prompting her to take a step back. His fingers caught hold of her hair and gently tested the texture. "Good eve, fair maiden."
"You. I saw you in the hall last night." He said nothing, simply let his smile grow until it became a smirk. "You're responsible for whatever happened. What did you do?"
His blue eyes sparkled as he cocked his head and gave her a considering look. "Naught more than a little magic. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy yourself. The exploits of the thunder god are legend. As is the size of his cock. No doubt he kept you well occupied. What about your other bed partner?"
"Anything that I may or may not do behind closed doors is business that does not concern you." The initial shock had worn off, leaving her feeling defensive.
"Even if those things are with my father?" She blinked at his words, but didn't let him see anything on his face. Not that it mattered. Something told her that he had the same keen senses that James did. If James was, in fact, his father. She didn't think she needed to doubt what he'd said. He looked just like James.
"Especially if those things are with your father." She'd known James had been alive quite some time, but she hadn't realized that he was old enough to have a son who appeared to be the same age that she was. "Anything he and I do is our business and ours alone."
She didn't think it was possible but his smirk grew even bigger than it had been. "Father always has liked his women with spirit. He likely chose you because you keep him on his toes. Make him feel young." He closed the distance between them and leaned closer to her. She heard him draw a breath deep into his lungs. No doubt he was scenting her. She remained still, watched as he circled her. His nose worked the entire time, his nose pulling the smell of her deep into his lungs. When he stopped, he was once again facing her. This time, he bared his teeth at her. "You smell of wildness, little one. No wonder Father is taken with you."
"You have no idea what you speak of." She didn't like that he seemed capable of reading her so well. So easily.
He leaned in again, until his mouth hovered just over hers. She wondered if he was going to kiss her. But his nose sniffed at her again as it showed his mouth the way across her cheek to where her ear lay hidden under her hair. His breath plumed across her skin, hot and intimate, and blew her hair away. The tip of his nose touched the upper shell of her ear. "Witchbreed." He drew back and looked her in the eye. "Has my father seen your feline form? Does he know you change yourself into a giant cat?
"What do you want?" She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of answering his questions. It really was none of his business.
He stepped back and looked her up and down. She swore she could feel his eyes linger on the curve of her breasts and then her hips. When he finally lifted his gaze back to hers, he only smirked at her again. "Give my best to my Father."
And then he was gone.
Rosemary hurried toward the back of the building, where she knew a second door was located. It would let her into Thor's home without requiring her to go through the hall. She didn't want to have to face anyone after her encounter with the stranger. All she wanted to do was seek the solace of her chambers and spend the last night on this place pondering what this new information meant to her relationship with James. The back entrance would allow her to go to her room without encountering anyone else.
She'd barely stepped into the hallway before her sharpened senses picked up the sounds of arguing coming from a closed door. One voice was male and cultured. The other was feminine and accented. Filled with anger. Dare. She wondered if she should remain nearby on the off chance her friend would need her. Dare wouldn't thank her for interfering in her business. But the latest turn of events left Rosemary feeling that things were fast slipping out of their control.
"Alasdare, you..." That voice belonged to Stark. And it trailed off when the smell of fire and ash flooded her nose. It seemed as if Dare's temper was climbing. Rosemary frowned at that. She inched closer to the door she was sure the voices were behind.
Dare's voice cut him off. "Nay! I'm done with it. I'm going tae tell them. All of them. I'm going tae tell them what I did. What ye and that bitch made me do." Who was she talking about? And what had they made her do?
"Do you think that will lift the guilt you feel, my sweet? Do you think that will atone for the sins you've committed?" There was little in his voice to tell her what he felt, a hint of concern, but she thought she could just catch a whiff of guilt and regret from him. What sins had Dare committed that this man knew about?
Dare's voice was bitter acid that cut the air. She was so upset. "Sins I committed in her name. And yers, Stark. Dinnae forget that ye're as responsible for all of this as I am." Rosemary had never heard such guilt in her friend's voice before. What had she done that she felt such remorse for? But the thing that she found most intriguing and most confusing was the fear that she could smell coming from the other woman. Something had her scared. Deeply frightened.
It couldn't be a coincidence that all of these new emotions and smells came to bear when Samuel Lord had arrived. Rosemary was sure that the man had something to do with it all. If this was true, though, the conversation meant that Stark wasn't the one responsible for what had happened to Robert Lord. Her eyes went wide as the implications hit her. What in the world was going on?
Before she had a chance to chase the truth down the path to its proper conclusion, Stark was speaking again. "Do you think it wise to confess these sins now? With Lord's brother here? The man is out for blood. In case you've forgotten, he's out for your blood." Despite the lack of concern in his voice, it was obvious to Rosemary that Stark didn't like what had happened here. And something suggested that he didn't like seeing Dare in the state she was in.
"I ken that weel enough. I dinnae think I'll ever forgive myself for that day. I ken I'll never forgive ye for it." Dare sounded... resigned. Lost.
She had to strain to hear Stark's next words. "His death wasn't my fault, Alasdare."
That sentence brought Dare's temper back to a slow boil. There was almost pure hatred in her voice and Rosemary didn't know if it was for the man with her or herself. "Och, and does that lie help ye sleep at night?"
Stark ignored her snide comment. It was almost as if he didn't hear it because the air was flooded with the smell of the man's fear. "I did not come back here to argue with you, Alasdare. I came here to warn you that you should remain hidden until Lord sails in the morning. If he finds you here, if he even lays eyes on you, there will be nothing I can do to stop him."
She blinked at that. Stark was afraid of what would happen to Dare? Did he care for her that much? If he did, why hadn't he told her?
"Mayhap I should let him do what he will with me. Mayhap `tis what I deserve." Her voice was quiet and soft. She believed that she deserved to be punished.
"Do you think Robert would agree with you on that, my sweet? And what of your new pet? The one who bears a striking resemblance to a dead man. A dead man you're responsible for murdering."
Of course Rosemary knew that Dare had killed before. She was a pirate. It came with the title. But this was news to her. Dare had killed Robert Lord? Why had she never said anything about that? And why did Lord Anthony Stark know?
Rosemary had heard enough. She did her best to tune out their voices and turned away from the door to continue on the way to her chamber. She found herself staring at the tall blonde that Haley had entertained the entire week they'd been at Thor's hall. The look in his blues eyes suggested that he had heard as much as she had. She flashed him an uneasy smile and sidled past him. She couldn't believe she hadn't sensed him standing behind her. She'd been that lost in her thoughts and the conversation she'd listened in on.
What she'd heard made things that had been happening for the past five years begin to make sense. All of the times she'd met with Stark. The ships they'd gone after that had seemed an odd choice. Certain people being sought out. Dare's temper, always growing though she kept it to herself.
She didn't find the solace she was looking for in her room. All she found there was more confusion. It was well into the night before her mind settled enough to allow sleep to take her.
~*~*~*~*~
Where the bloody hell was he? Haley sighed and tossed the blankets aside. Climbing from the bed, she reached for her discarded gown with the intent of getting dressed. It looked as if she was going to have to go looking for him. Perhaps he'd gotten lost and she needed to go find him. Clinton had wanted to visit the privy and seek out a wench. She wasn't sure what he needed to find a wench for. Especially not when she was willing and waiting for him.
This was her last night at Thor's hall. And her last night with Clinton. She didn't know when she'd see him again. If she'd see him again. She thought it was possible, given that Dare often met up with Lord Stark when they were in Kennewycke. But would he want to see her again? Haley shook her head and pushed those thoughts away. She didn't need to do that to herself. Not now. Not with the dawning only hours away.
She could torture herself with things that weren't meant to be later.
She was just pulling the laces that tightened the gown down when there was a swift rap at the door. The panel opened and Clinton stepped in. He wore a puzzled look on his face that made her wonder what had happened to him while he'd been out wandering the halls. Muttering a curse under her breath, she began loosening the laces on the gown then tugged the offending item off and tossed it to the floor.
He was lost in thought. "How well do you know your friends, Haley?" he asked, completely ignoring the fact that she'd stripped naked for him. "How much do you know about them?"
"A fair amount, I'd say." She crossed her arms and glared at him. "What makes you ask?"
"I overheard a conversation that leaves me wondering if you know your friends as well as you think you do." He lifted his gaze to meet hers. She lifted a brow in invitation to continue. There was apparently something on his mind that he wished to discuss. He had all of a minute before she stripped him naked, climbed on top of him and rode him to the floor. "Your friend Dare. She... I heard... Are you aware that she's killed people?"
Haley stared at him. Surely he was kidding? "Does the word pirate mean nothing to you?" Of course she knew that Dare had killed people. They all had. Each of them. It was the nature of their lives at sea. And while Haley couldn't speak for the other girls, she herself knew that those deaths weighed heavily on her soul when she allowed herself to think about them. Perhaps one day she could seek forgiveness. But not now when she was still a pirate and would likely kill more people. And certainly not at the minute, when all she could think about was pulling his clothing from his body and memorizing every last inch of it with her lips and tongue and teeth and hands.
Before he could respond to her question, she stepped into him and let her fingers work at the belt he wore. Those weren't the swords she was interested this night. She let the wide strip of leather hit the floor with a dull thud before her hands began pulling his tunic up over his head. "Haley?"
"I want to see you naked, Clinton," she told him, the hunger she felt for him in her voice. The tunic had barely left her fingers when she was tugging at his breeches. It was no difficult task to pull the ties that held the garment up. She slid it down to his ankles, dropping to her knees so that she could pull his feet free. When she had his breeches tossed aside, she tipped her head back and stared up at him. His eyes had started to darken and the length of his cock was beginning to harden. She reached up with one hand and took hold of him.
A long, ragged sigh left his throat as her hand stroked him. She let it glide up and down his shaft once, twice, then she tightened it around the base and leaned toward him. He hissed a breath when her mouth closed over the head and sucked at it gently. Her hands settled on his hips as she swallowed him down. "By God, Haley. I'd love nothing more than to have you worship me with your mouth. But that isn't how I want to spend this night."
With supreme effort, he pulled his cock from her mouth. His hands reached for her, pulled her to her feet and into the circle of his arms. "But this is our last night, Clinton. I thought..."
"It is our last night, love. And because it is, I want to make such memories as to make the angels in Heaven weep. Let this night be slow and tender. Let it be filled with gentleness. Let me make love to you as you deserve."
His words stole her breath. Before she could think to reply, his head dipped and his mouth covered hers. She sighed and melted against him. The touch of his hands was light as they explored the curve of her spine, the shape of her arse. His tongue slid into her mouth, skimmed against her own as they danced and twined. Tasted every inch of her. The proof of his desire was caught between them, the blood within it pulsing in time with his beating heart. She wanted him inside of her now, wanted to feel him filling her. She didn't know if she could wait.
He pulled back only when they needed air. Their panting breaths filled the silence of the room as they stared at one another. There was such need in his eyes that they were nearly the dark blue that painted the sky when the sun started to set below the horizon. Seeing that need had her shivering in his hold. She'd seen a look like that once before, in a different pair of eyes. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone look at her that way. "Haley?"
"I don't deserve such a look," she whispered softly. He frowned and brought a hand up to cup her cheek gently.
"You deserve such a look every day of your life, love. That and so much more. Allow me to show you," he whispered. She swallowed hard. It was on her tongue to say no. Her heart didn't want to think of what the look meant. But her body wouldn't let her pass the opportunity up. She found herself nodding at him in the affirmative. As if he'd asked permission. He smiled at her, then scooped her up in his arms. Her body was cradled against his as he crossed the few steps there were to the bed and laid her down upon its surface.
There was such reverence in the look he gave her. His eyes started with her face and simply stared for a few moments before they started to slide down. In a matter of seconds, one of his hands was following the path his eyes had took. He touched her brow, traced his fingers down the side of her face to her jaw. By then, his eyes had found her breasts. The weight of his stare saw her nipples hardening in anticipation.
The flat of his hand curved around the underside of her jaw and shaped her throat before opening over the spot where her neck met the rest of her body. He turned his hand so that his fingers pointed straight up toward her chin, continued lower. She shuddered when he dragged his hand between her breasts. His other hand rose up to join the first, following it between her breasts. Then they split and drifted to the left and the right until one thumb rested under each globe. His fingers framed the sides, lifting them and stroking them lightly.
His head dipped and her eyes slid shut as his mouth closed, hot and hungry, around one of her nipples. A long sighing moan rolled up out of her throat as he lavished attention on her breast. When he wasn't readily sucking on her nipple, his mouth bit and nipped at it and the flesh surrounding it. His hand shaped and held her breasts, his fingers shifting ever so slightly against it so as to bombard her with a variety of sensations all at once. And when he deemed he'd spent long enough on one breast, he shifted his attention to the other so that he could lavish it with the same treatment.
By the time he lifted his head away so that he could look at her, she was writhing on the bed. Her body hungered for his, leaving her hoping and praying that he would climb between her thighs and drive himself inside of her. He didn't. Instead, his hands slid down her torso, one on either side, until they came to her hips. Then they turned inward and ghosted across her belly. The muscles there quivered under his touch.
His mouth joined his hands only moments later. She sighed again as his tongue traced around her navel, as his teeth nipped at the edges of the indentation. Each minor pain that he inflicted was soothed with a kiss and the touch of his tongue against her flesh. She thought that perhaps every muscle in her body had been reduced to liquid.
When he was done showering her abdomen with attention, his head lifted away so that he could cast a look up at her. The smile that curved up his lips was half angel and half devil. One hand slid away from her hip and slowly inched its way down her thigh. At the same time, his mouth mirrored that hand so that one leg was teased by the gentle touch of his fingers and the other was treated to the press of his lips against the pliant flesh. His progress was slow and steady, his hands and lips taking special care with her knees. Downward he went, pressing kisses to the curve of her calf. Trailing feather soft fingers over her skin. Sending shivers up and down her spine.
After what seemed an age, he finally reached her feet. His hands against them were so gentle that she almost didn't feel it. His lips brushed the protrusion of her ankle bone and the top of her foot. The switch was so smooth that she almost didn't realize he'd made it. His mouth began to climb up the leg that had been touched by his hand, while the leg that he'd pressed kisses to was being caressed by his hand.
Haley felt herself melting even further into the mattress, her body pliant under his expert touch. Each press of his lips, each stroke of his hand, sent small fingers of pleasure crawling through her until it felt as if there were hundreds and thousands of those tiny fingers in her belly and between her thighs. Her body wanted him so badly but the words wouldn't come. Between the gasps and the moans, between the groans and sighs, there was no room for her to form words.
By the time his mouth returned to her hip, she was ready to pull him up over her. But it seemed that Clinton had other ideas. His lips drifted lazily across her belly toward her navel again, then suddenly switched directions and headed straight down. His hands curled around her thighs, pressed them up and apart until she was exposed to his view. And he looked.
She found the sight so intoxicating that her body spasmed with need.
The heat of his breath against her skin was her only warning. His tongue slid between the swollen folds of her flesh, pressing into her body as far as it could go. The sigh that rolled out of Haley's throat seemed to come from the very depths of her soul. His hands shifted position and came to rest at the very tops of her thighs, so that they framed his face. His fingers teased her there, slowly peeling the plump lips aside to grant him better access to her core. She nigh unto screamed when the tip of his tongue touched the tiny nubbin of flesh hidden between those lips.
Everything seemed to stop. Her breath froze in her lungs, thoughts slid away. Even her heart seemed to pause in mid-beat. All that she could see, feel, taste, touch and smell was him. The feel of his mouth moving against her down there. The sensations brought screaming to life by the texture of his tongue as it alternated between licking at her and plunging into her. The silk of his hair against her fingers and palms. The smell of lust that seemed to permeate the air. She swore she could taste their need as it hovered around them and cloaked them.
He alternated between using his tongue and his fingers. She didn't know when his hands had moved further in, but the fingers on one of them stroked in and out of her body. Tugged at that little bit of flesh. Pinched her nether lips. Each one of his touches ignited a fire under her skin. Those tiny little fires grew and spread, combining with one another until she felt as if she was going to burn away in a roaring blaze that would reach the very heavens.
Time caught up with them again and, in the blink of an eye, her body was tight and tense. It started low in her belly and gradually spread out until she felt that tension in the tips of her fingers and her toes. Fingers and toes that curled up tightly as a familiar feeling began flooding her body. He lifted his head, only slightly, so that she could see the gleam in his eyes. Then he lowered his head again and his mouth closed over her, pressed a kiss against her nether lips. He drew that sensitive nubbin of flesh between his lips. And he sucked.
Haley nearly came up off the bed. Her entire body tensed for just a moment. The tension slid away, leaving her to break into pieces of colored glass that caught the light from the two candles. She saw the rainbow behind her eyes, saw sparkling shimmers of pleasure. When she could see again, it was to find him looming over her. Sweat and her own juices shone on his face. He was smiling at her, his eyes dark with his own need. "There is nothing on the face of the earth more beautiful than a woman caught in her passion. I enjoy seeing that look on your face. I love putting that look on your face."
His words send a ripple of pleasure through her. It wasn't the same kind that his mouth had given her but it was enough to see her reaching for him. She wanted nothing more than for him to fill her with himself, to spend the night wrapped in his arms while he put that look on her face again and again and again.
He didn't let her tug him up over her, which had been her intent. Instead, he began kissing a slow path back up her body. His tongue paid attention to her belly button, lavishing it and teasing it until she shuddered from the shooting tingles that speared through her from that one spot. When he finished with the small indentation, he started upward again, his mouth, teeth and tongue working in tandem to rekindle the fires of need that had burned to ash in the face of her climax. She noted that he made a side trip to her breasts, his mouth feasting upon them with wild abandon. He left nips in the flesh, suckled on her nipples. She was writhing beneath him in no time at all.
Finally, after it felt as if an age had passed, his mouth took hers. She could taste herself on him, a lingering hint of flavor coating his tongue and his lips. It added to the need she felt. As did the evidence of his need for her. The hard, thick length of him pressed against her flesh was an enticement that she wanted to feel pushing inside of her. "Please don't make me wait any longer, Clinton." His name came out on a whisper, like some prayer to a god of old. The sound of it darkened his gaze even further. Her hands stroked down his back until they came to rest on the delicious curves of his arse. "I want you to..." Her bravery faltered. She'd said those words once before, to only one other. And it had hurt her heart to do so, knowing what would come to pass. She'd told herself then that it had all been for the best. But those words were cold comfort in the light of day.
One of his hands reached up to stroke her face, his touch gentle. "Haley?" Obviously he'd sensed the turmoil within her. His eyes were filled with concern. So was his voice. She needed to come up with a lie to appease him. Needed to stop herself from making a terrible mistake. "Tell me, Haley. What is it you want?"
"I want you to... to make love to me." She stumbled over the words but managed not to push them out in a rush. The concern faded away, replaced by heat and a small dash of wonder.
"Such difficult words for such a brave pirate. Shall I pour you a drink?" He was teasing, of course. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. She pondered hitting him, but turned the idea aside as detrimental to their mood.
"All I need is you." That came easier. She hadn't realized how difficult a single sentence, four little words, could be. As if to prove to him that what she said was true, she wrapped her arms and legs around him so that she could tug him closer. "Please."
He smiled at her, then rolled them until he was on his back, her body draped over his. His hands convinced her to sit up, urging her up onto her knees. She watched as he did the same, rising up to sit with his legs curled up under him. She didn't move right away. Instead, she simply sat there and stared at him.
His hands lifted so that they could take hold of her hips. She thought that he would pull her into his lap, but he didn't. Instead, his hands traced her curves. He started with the top of her arse before drawing them forward to frame her waist. His touch was light and gentle, the softest thing she'd ever felt against her skin. When the heels of his palms met over her belly, his fingers splayed wide. His hands began rising slowly. The tips of his fingers touched the undersides of her breasts first, then shifted outward until his hands were formed to the bottoms of them. He held that position for a moment, then his hands moved so that they cupped her breasts.
He leaned in, his head dipping until he could trail his tongue along the upper swells. Again he lavished attention upon her nipples, leaving her sighing. Her hands were in his hair, on his back, holding him to her. Stabilizing her as she arched her back to offer up more of her flesh to his hungry mouth.
His hands dropped away from her breasts, though she barely noticed. They circled around behind her back at the waist and tugged her closer to him. She moaned in regret when his head lifted from her breasts. But his eyes found hers and held them while he positioned her legs so that she sat in his lap with the length of her bent limbs nestled against his own.
It was she who made the last move. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders while she lifted up just enough to allow him to find his cock. The head of it brushed her curls, slid against the sensitive bit of flesh between her thighs before it came to rest at her opening, just caught between the swollen folds of her flesh. And it was she who slowly drove herself down over him, taking every last glorious inch of him into her body.
He let go a long, low groan of pleasure as her body closed around his own. His hands found her hips and set a rhythm, something that was so slow and languid that it was almost as if she wasn't moving. When he was certain she didn't need his help to maintain the unhurried up and down of her hips, he took his hands away and let them climb up her back. His fingers tangled in the length of her hair and tugged her head back until the line of her throat was exposed to him. His mouth lowered to it and began pressing kisses to the taut surface, began nipping and licking at the flesh.
Their pace was lazy. She shifted only enough to pull up before dropping back down on top him. His mouth remained locked to her throat. On occasion, he'd bend her backwards until he could take a nipple into his mouth. How he did it, she didn't know. Nor did she care. The friction was sweet, building up inside of her like the air sometimes felt just before a storm broke. She could always feel it brewing, feel the charge that left the air heavy and anxious, as if waiting for something big to happen. That was how she felt now, all thick and heavily laden with anticipation. Like the calm before the storm.
It was heaven to sit in his lap and feel him moving inside of her. Even though she was the one who kept pace, who shifted her hips slowly and lazily, he gave the occasional deep thrust that brought sighs and moans to life, brought them spilling out of her mouth to color the room with her passion and desire. His hands stroked her skin, teased and played and prompted in a way she'd never experienced before. She was no virginal bride being led to the marriage bed, but his experience made her feel like that blushing maid she'd once been. And even though her mind didn't quite know what it was they were doing together, her body understood every action and motion, every word he never said. With his hands touching her, with his mouth caressing her, with his body joined with her own, she was flying. Truly flying. She never wanted to come down.
The climax was so unexpected that she couldn't help the cry of surprise and completion that rolled up out of her throat. Her body went liquid in his hold, coming to a complete halt as she rode out the waves of pleasure that his slow, careful movements had given her. That he kept giving her. His hips beat out a series of long, deep thrusts against her that kept the sensations spiraling through her until she found herself begging him to let her rest.
Clinton stilled his motions and held her against him until the slight shivers and shakes passed and she found herself leaning on him almost bonelessly. His hands stroked up and down her back while he whispered words of promise and passion in her ear. Most of it seemed to pass through her head without registering, but she caught a few words that should have frightened her. There was a seriousness to his voice that lent a new level of intimacy to their coupling. What she did hear was that he wanted her to stay with him, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life doing this.
Such words scared the life out of her. Because in some corner of her mind, she wanted that, too. And she knew she could never have it. She could still see Harper's eyes over the climbing flames, could still hear his screams in her head. Seeing that had scarred her for life. If anyone was to discover her secret... No. She couldn't put another living soul through that. Ever. It was best if she found a way to distract him from such flights of fancy.
"Clinton," her voice was husky with need. "Please."
"Lean back, Haley." He helped her, his hands offering support as she did as he'd asked. Without being told, she rested the lower half of her arms against the bedding and then her head. It left her back resting on his bent legs. She was still joined to him at the waist. The shifting of her position made changes to the angle and depth of his cock inside of her. She bit off a low moan before wrapping her legs around his waist. His hands took hold of her hips. "Ready, love?"
"Yes." A thrill ran through her. Secretly, she liked it when he called her love. It would be a lovely memory to help keep her warm at night when all she had were the memories she'd made.
His grip on her tightened just a little before he drew his hips back slowly. She sighed, then whimpered when it felt as if he was going to withdraw from her entirely. But the look in his eyes assured her that this was for real, that he wasn't leaving her and that he didn't ever want to let her go. That look stopped the breath in her lungs. His hips pushing him back in saw her expelling that breath in a moan.
Once again, his actions were so slow that it felt at times as if they were barely moving. She wanted to tell him that he needn't be so focused on her pleasure but something stilled the words in her throat. This was what he wanted and to take it from him would be selfish. So she relaxed back into the mattress, planted her arms and feet in order to provide leverage for herself. He smiled when her hips joined him in his lazy rhythm. In moments, anything not related to their joining was gone from her head as his ministrations once again plunged her deep into a thick pool of sticky pleasure that held her as surely as the gossamer strands of a spider's web held a fly.
She was unaware of the passage of time. It wasn't measured by the melting of the candles that lit the room. She couldn't see the stars or the moon in the night sky, wouldn't know if they were falling down around her shoulders. She wouldn't care if they were falling down around her shoulders. What mattered to her was Clinton, the way he stared at her and the way his body moved against hers. As if he was worshipping her. It seemed an odd way to describe the act they were caught up in, but it was true. His motions were so slow and so painstakingly careful. Crafted entirely for her pleasure. She was so caught up in him, so lost to the sensations, that she counted the passage of time with each of his strokes.
They could have been there minutes or hours. It could have been a day or a week. A month. A year. She wouldn't have known the difference. She wouldn't have cared. This moment was what mattered. This one tiny grain of sand in the hour glass meant more to her than anything had in a very long time. She would cherish this night for the rest of her days.
His hips moved a little faster, creating more of that devilishly wonderful friction. It began filling her up again. She realized, staring up into the handsomeness of his face and the utter concentration she saw there, that he would dedicate himself wholly to pleasing her if she didn't remind him that pleasure was best when shared by both parties. She lifted her hands, let them glide up and down his torso. Her fingers teased his nipples, traced the lines of each muscle they found. They drew circles around his navel until the muscles beneath them quivered. "Haley," he groaned, his hips stilling for a minute. "Haley, love. Don't. I can't..."
"You've given me so much pleasure already, Clinton. Please don't deny yourself." She knew her voice was rough and husky with desire. She hoped that it would help convince him just as much as her hands would. "Just as you like to see my pleasure upon my face, I like to see your pleasure riding you. I want to see it. I want to feel you filling me with yourself. I want... Seeing you find your pleasure will give me pleasure. Please, Clinton. Don't deny me this."
She could tell by the look on his face that her words had made an impact on him. His eyes were so dark, they were nearly black. Passion and desire and need had built up in them until she didn't think anyone would be able to unravel them. Droplets of sweat stood out against his brow and dotted his chest. "Anything for you." He leaned forward and took her mouth in a hot, demanding kiss that curled her toes. Left her gasping for breath. Sent such tingles through out her body that she wondered how he couldn't feel it.
There was no time for words now, no room. He gave himself over entirely to finding his pleasure. She thought that he would start thrusting slowly, but she found she was wrong. Almost immediately, the tension of his mounting need saw him slapping his hips against hers harshly. The sensations rippled through her. Her hands caught his shoulders and pulled him down toward her. Their mouths met again while his body pounded into hers. She buried her fingers in his hair, shifted the position of her legs, and let her body follow his lead.
They moved together, bodies racing toward one goal. She wasn't sure what he felt but the tension was so intense for her. Strung so tightly that she thought she might shatter with a breath of air. He dragged his mouth from hers, gasping and panting loudly. Somehow, he fit one hand between them so that he could put his fingers on that spot that she knew would see her shattering into pieces. All of his weight on his other hand, he leaned down so that he could whisper his words into her ear. "Come with me, Haley. Fly with me. Let us fall into oblivion together, love."
His words, the touch of his fingers, the way his cock speared into her... It all combined to break her. She heard herself call out. Heard his answering response, little more than a hoarse groan. Felt her body tense before it shattered. Felt his body tense and still for just the space of a heartbeat. They hung together on the edge of the precipice for a glittering moment. Then they fell through bright flashes of light into shadows that tasted of salt and spent pleasure.
When she pried her eyes open, Haley found his body covering hers. Their chests heaved in time with one another. Sweat darkened the golden hair upon his head. He lifted up slowly, as if his limbs were made of little more than rubber, and rolled to the side. His arms pulled her close until her head lay against his chest. She could hear his heart pounding madly in his chest. It was a song that lulled her into sleep. She felt his chest rumble under her ear, vaguely noted that he was speaking to her.
But whatever he said was lost to the haze of pleasure and exhaustion that dragged her into sleep.
~*~*~*~*~
Jehnna frowned as she stared around the hall. There were still men laying scattered across the floor, sleeping as if they had nary a care in the world. Perhaps they didn't. She did note that none of them were her own crew members. Thank God for small favors. Then again, Morgan had made it clear to everyone last night that any man not on the ship when she was ready to set sail would be left behind. It appeared everyone had taken it to heart, which was a good thing, Morgan would leave them if they weren't on the ship when she was ready to set sail.
A wench brought her a tray piled with breakfast foods. She knew she should be making ready to sail, but she wasn't sure when next they would be treated to such a fine meal. She planned on enjoying it for as long as she could.
The young sailor she'd spent her night with staggered into the hall, his slow gait attesting to the hard use she'd given him yester eve. He flashed her a smile as he passed, but didn't try to sit with her or touch her. She wondered if she'd scared him, then decided it didn't matter. He'd only been a temporary diversion. Her heart belonged now, as always, to the stoic Russian who worked for Ophelia. He expected nothing of her and yet gave her everything she could ever want. She wasn't sure, but she thought that she might actually care deeply for him.
People were beginning to rise, climbing from their pallets to greet the new day. Many of them were the refugees she'd spent the week getting to know. Unlike the other women, she'd passed the time speaking with the people Thor took in and protected. There wasn't a one of them who hadn't been born a Witchbreed. And all of them were afraid of the church and the authorities. She'd met them all, learned their names and their stories. Some of them had no family, some of them had family that had turned them out. None of them had anyone they could go to.
Except Thor. She'd thought the man a big oaf, with nothing betwixt his ears beyond sword fights, drinking and fornicating. But she was coming to see that there was so much more to him than she'd first believed. He'd opened up his home to people who might otherwise have died in the streets. Or dancing at the end of a noose. People didn't understand Witchbreed, thought of them as evil. As abominations.
Jehnna had never liked being called an abomination.
Her opinion of their host had changed with each story she heard. Some of the people she'd talked to had been condemned to death. Some had been merely thrown from their homes and left to live on the streets. These people, who had no where to go and no one to help them, those who were without hope, had found help in one of Thor's men. Some had been made slaves on estates or upon ships. These people, too had been liberated by someone else. She'd been surprised to find that Lord Stark had brought some of the refugees to the island aboard his own ship. Other people had simply found their way there. As Thor had said one night, those who had need of his help would be able to find his island.
She didn't like the idea of leaving them behind but there was no way they could sail with the ship. There wasn't enough room for all of them and, God's truth, the ocean wasn't the place for those who couldn't protect themselves. She was glad to know that these people would be safe here with Thor.
Sighing, she broke the fast with her first bite of steaming hot eggs. She wasn't going to miss this place. Quite the opposite. She was looking forward to putting out to sea once again. There had been such tension this past week, most of it surrounding Lord Anthony Stark and Dare. Of course, knowing the Scotswoman as she did, the tension wasn't all that surprising. It was amazing no one had been killed during their sennight upon the island. Taking to the oceans again would be good for the other woman. It would get her away from the man who seemed to keep her on edge all the time.
Speaking of... That one had been acting strange last night. Especially after the appearance of the other man. What was his name? She hadn't really been paying attention. All she knew was that Dare had remained absent the whole evening and Stark had gone off after a time, presumably to look for her. Whether or not he'd found her was an entirely different matter. Just who was it that the stranger had been looking for? He'd been most adamant that the person responsible for his brother's death was there.
Her mind put two and two together and gave her an answer she didn't much care for. Frowning, Jehnna pushed the thought from her mind and allowed herself to fully enjoy her meal. There was freshly baked fish and bread, fried potatoes and eggs. Honey and butter and cold milk to drink. It was a good meal. And that was one of the few things she was going to miss about this place. The excellent cooking. The cook they had upon the ship had only gotten the job because no one else wanted to do it.
With her meal finished, there wasn't anything to keep her from making the trek down to the sloop. She'd taken all of her possessions down yesterday, with exception of the clothing she was wearing and her sword. It would be a good idea to go and make sure that preparations were underway for their sailing. But something made her linger. And, again, her eyes sought out the refugees on the other side of the hall.
Rising from the table, she made her way across the floor until she stood before a pair of them. Sister and brother, they were twins and as opposite as night and day. She was the softer, gentler of the two while he was harsh and arrogant. But both of them smiled when they saw her approach and they rose from the table where they were breaking their fast. "I wanted to come and bid you a good day. I am not sure if we will see one another again."
The smiles fell just a little. "So you're leaving then?" The brother, Pietro, asked the question. The arrogance he'd cultured all his life was thick in his words.
"I'm afraid so. I cannot stay here indefinitely. There are ships yet to be robbed. A pirate's life is not one of ease." She hated to see the disappointment in their eyes. "But if I get the chance, I will come back."
"We'd enjoy it if you were to visit again." The sister. Wanda. She offered another smile.
"We can't stay here indefinitely, Wanda. Thor will tire of us and then where will we go?"
Jehnna could see that the fear of being displaced or discovered was deep. She made her decision then and there. "My friend Rosemary comes from a place where there is no one to judge you. It lies far across the ocean, but I don't think it is an unattainable goal. I'll steal a ship of my own and captain it back here. Then my crew and I will sail you to this new land, where Witchbreed can live without fear."
They wanted to believe. They really did. She could see it in their eyes. And in the eyes of those who had gathered around them. But they didn't dare let themselves believe it. Not yet. Life had taught them to expect nothing but pain and disappointment. She would see to it that they'd never be disappointed again. "I swear upon all that is holy and upon God himself. I will return for you."
Smiles came then, tentative and as beautiful as the sun breaking through the clouds after a week of storms. The promise felt good and right. She knew that she'd keep it. She would help these people, her friends, the way Thor had helped them. That thought heavy in her brain, she lost herself in saying good bye to them all, to restating her promise over and over again.
When she finally dragged herself away from them, there was a large smile upon her face and tears glistening in her eyes.
~*~*~*~*~
He was still sleeping when Haley woke. Sun poured through the high window, painting the room with gold. His arm was a heavy weight across her abdomen, as if he'd known that she would wake early and attempt to leave him. She lifted his arm carefully and slid from under it. If she could keep from rousing him long enough to get dressed, she could make it to the ship before he caught her and tried to stop her. She knew he would try to stop her.
And part of her wanted him to stop her.
It wasn't right. None of it was. She shouldn't have let herself become entangled with him. Something had shifted between them between that first night and the last. Something she didn't dare try and name. She hadn't felt this way in a very long time. Not since... She pushed that thought aside. She didn't want to think on what she'd lost anymore than she wanted to think on what it was that might have come to life between them.
Hadn't she done this before? Hadn't she done this with someone else? She'd been so simple and silly then, merely a naive little girl who hadn't seen that the big, wide world liked to eat people like her up. She'd thought that they could be happy. She'd thought that they could have a life and a family together. They'd been on their way to doing just that. But Harper's death had changed it all. She'd grown up that day, realized that she couldn't put him through it. She'd loved him too much. She still did love him. And she could still recall that night as if it had been yesterday.
She'd gone to him, to give him one last gift to remember her by. They'd been in love and they'd been betrothed, something that most couples didn't have. But her parents had been different. They'd only wanted the best for her. And it had been at that party that her father had made all of her dreams come true.
"What do you think of Lord Storm's son?"
"What do I think of..." her cheeks burned again. "He is a good man, from what I know of him." Her father studied the look on her face for a moment.
"Haley," he tilted her head so that she had to look at him. "I have always told you that I want an extraordinary life for my children. Your brother has a good match with his intended." She read what he wasn't saying in his face. He knew, as she did, that Harper truly loved Theresa, and it seemed her father was happy to see his son that way. "I want the same for you, child."
"I think..." she spoke slowly, trying to phrase what she was thinking properly. She let her gaze fall over her father's shoulder and land back on Jonathan. She had spent a good deal of time with him lately, always in the company of her brother. The two of them were friends, after all. She felt her heart race in her chest. Yes, she loved him. "I think it would be a good match, father." She smiled and brought her eyes back to the man in front of her.
A knowing smile crossed his face. "Your brother agrees."
"Does he?" She couldn't stop the small laugh that left her lips.
"He nodded. "And so do I. We will announce it as soon as is possible." He leaned in, kissing his daughter on the cheek. "I am happy for you, child."
"Thank you, father." She smiled as he led her back toward the others.
And she had been. Until that wretched bitch had spoilt everything for them. It was her fault that Haley hadn't been able to have her happy life with the man she'd loved. Because that bitch had turned the Stone family's lives upside down. She'd told the magistrate about Harper's abilities. And he'd been burned at the stake. That day had killed the little girl in Haley. And she'd known, watching her brother face his death, that she'd never be able to put Jonathan through that. So she'd decided to run.
But she'd had to see him one last time. To let him know that she loved him. To give him the most precious gift she could give him. That night, she'd gone to him and given him her innocence. He hadn't wanted to take it, had wanted to wait until their wedding. But she'd convinced him otherwise, made him give in to her desires. They'd snuck into his family's house, into his very chambers, and he'd laid her out on the bed. He'd made love to her. He'd made her a woman that night.
And she'd repaid him by leaving him.
He yawned as he tightened his grip on her. "I should take you home."
She tensed She hadn't exactly expected that. She wasn't entirely sure what she had been expecting but it wasn't that. "No... no, not yet." She snuggled in closer. "I don't want to leave you yet."
He looked down at her for a moment. "If someone sees you here..."
"I know." She sighed heavily, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "I know, but... just a little longer?"
"Alright." He smoothed her hair a little. "I am in no hurry to give you back to the world either." He smiled, his eyes drifting closed a moment later and the most contented sound she'd ever heard left his lips. Slowly he drifted off, his hold on her relaxing as he did.
She slipped from the bed as quietly as she could manage, freezing to the spot at any small noise and willing herself not to cry. Not yet. Not until she was out of the house and far enough away to hide for the day before slipping onto a ship that would take her... well, nearly anywhere would do, as long as it was away. She looked out the window that faced out onto the garden as she pulled her boots on and hastily braided her hair. The drop was considerable, but nothing she couldn't handle. As long as no one heard her or saw her in her other form, she'd be fine as soon as she hit the ground.
And luck, for once, seemed to be with her. In mere moments, she had her satchel again, was tucking her braid under her hat and was heading toward the harbor. No reason to wait now, no reason to hide for the day. Her new life, whatever that may bring to her, was waiting and she'd never hesitated about such things before. Now was not the time to start, she told herself.
She didn't let herself glance back as she walked. She wiped the few tears that escaped her control from her cheeks. There was no place for sentiment and emotion in her life anymore. If her brother had taught her anything, it was that the world outside of their safe home and their safe friends was anything but safe. She had to be strong, tough and willing to do anything now. She had to survive, to live. Not just for herself, but for her brother. For Harper.
She'd stood over Jonathan that night for just a little while, watching him sleep while her heart broke in her chest. She hadn't ever thought that someone would ever make her feel anything like that again. She'd been wrong. Oh, so wrong. And while she wasn't sure that what she felt for Clinton was anything like what she'd felt for Jonathan, she knew she felt something for Clinton. Those were emotions that were best left hidden from the light of day. Hadn't Harper and Jonathan taught her that she couldn't afford to let herself care about anyone?
She turned away from Clinton and sought out her clothing. The breeches and corset and tunic that proclaimed to the world that she was a pirate. She pulled them on silently, leaving her boots and sword belt for after she left the room. For the hallway. She didn't let herself think upon what would happen to her heart, fragile thing that it was, when the sloop put out to sea. She'd simply throw herself into pirating and that would be the end of it.
There was nothing for her here.
Fully dressed in her clothes, in what she considered her armor, she took one last longing look toward the bed and the man sprawled across it. He'd kicked the covers away and was glorious in his nudity. Perfect. Beautiful. Not hers. She couldn't stay, even if she'd wanted to. No. There was nothing for her here.
She turned to collect her boots and her sword belt. His hand caught hers, warm and strong and so terribly capable. "Haley. Love." His voice was rough with sleep. She should ignore it, ignore him and pull her hand free. Leave the room. She didn't. Couldn't. Instead, she turned to face him and saw the look in his eyes. He knew and yet he would still ask. Because he was as rash as she was. Because he thought that there were hearts involved. "Haley. Stay with me."
"I can't, Clinton. I must go."
"Don't. Stay. Tell them you're staying. I don't want you to go."
She turned back to him, leaned over him so that she could press a kiss to his lips. "I have to go, Clinton. Go back to sleep." Perhaps when he woke up, it would be nothing more than a lovely dream for him.
She knew better.
To his credit, he didn't beg and plead. His hand slipped from hers. But he didn't go back to sleep. He stayed awake, stayed sitting as he watched her walk away from him. She knew he watched her even though she didn't look back.
And, to her credit, she didn't cry. Not until they were out to sea and she could blame the drops on her cheeks on the water that sprayed the deck as the prow cut through the ocean.
Chapter Twelve: Leaving
Fandom: something like the Marvel Universe
Rating: 18 and up
Warnings: lots of sex and violence, language, anything else i can toss in. flagrant abuse of a Scots accent and loads of pirates. much badly mangled pirate speech
Disclaimer: the recognizable characters and places contained herein are the property of Marvel. i'm merely borrowing for the sake of entertainment. no money is being made from this venture. the Sues are the sole property of their originators, Ginevra, Dazzledfirestar, Nanaea, SilverFoxChan and ladydeathfaerie. the concept and title of The Mary Sue Virus are used with permission from Dazzledfirestar.
The Flight of the Valkyrie - The Index
The night air was crisp and cool, a soothing touch to her cheek as she strolled through the shadows silently. There were a few night birds on the island, night birds that added their song to the darkness. The faint chirping of insects and the soft sound of small prey animals echoed out of the trees. It felt good out here, away from all of the milling bodies in the hall. Rosemary closed her eyes and allowed the sea breeze to flow over her face.
She knew she should be inside with the rest of her crew, partaking of Thor's hospitality. It was, after all, their last night on the island. He'd provided them with an amazing feast. But with it being their last night on the island, that meant that this was the last night she would have the opportunity to roam the land by herself. The moment they put out to sea in the morning, she'd be trapped on board the ship with the rest of the crew. Though it was only about two dozen people, the ship wasn't as large as an island and she always felt as if she was caught in a trap. She wanted to put the time she had left on the island to good use.
It would seem, though, that this night would be spent contemplating the things she'd just heard. As she'd been slipping from the hall, a small group of men had passed by her on their way in. Rosemary had been allowed a moment to think that the man leading the group had looked vaguely familiar. But he'd let himself into the hall so quickly that she'd not had the opportunity to have a better look at him.
She'd stood there, just on the other side of the doors, her curiosity fully engaged. And she'd done something she rarely allowed herself to do. She'd used her sensitive hearing and listened in on what the new arrival had said to their host. Imagine her surprise when the man said he was there to collect the murderer of his brother. But that surprise was blown flat by the words of Lord Stark as he introduced the new comer as Samuel Lord. The younger brother of Robert Lord.
The younger Lord's voice had rung out, echoing clear and strong around the hall. "Information brought to me not more than a few days ago says that Robert's murderer is here. I have come to take the bastard into custody. I will see to it that they pay for their crime. Robert's young son was left without his father. His death will be avenged and I will be the one to avenge it. I will not leave until I have accomplished my mission."
She pondered that as she absently strolled. Someone in Thor's hall had murdered Robert Lord. Of course she'd heard of the man. She didn't think there was a living soul in all of England who hadn't. The man had been a legend among members of his own sex, young and old alike. He was still known as one of the most notorious rakes to ever set foot on the British Isles. What had made matters worse was that the women, all of the women, had wanted to be his next conquest. It wasn't surprising that someone had murdered him.
Who would have murdered the notorious Robert Lord? A jealous husband to a woman he'd slept with? A jealous woman who had been thrown aside for a newer, younger lover? And how would such a person have ended up at Thor's hall? Rosemary had gotten the impression that only certain people could find his hall. People like her and her friends. Did that mean that it was someone with Witchbreed powers? That could be any of the refugees that crowded the hall.
Rosemary deftly avoided an exposed root as she turned that thought over in her mind. She tried recalling everything she knew about Lord, but it seemed that her knowledge was lacking. She knew that there had been many women associated with Lord after his wife's death. She knew that the man they knew as Remy apparently bore a startling resemblance to Robert Lord. She knew, though she hadn't said anything to anyone, that Dare had obviously felt something for Lord. Anytime his name was mentioned around the Scots wench, her scent changed and became just a little more interesting.
In fact, now that Rosemary thought about it, that scent had been lingering and growing heavier ever since Remy had shown up. Whether the woman knew it or not, it was obvious to Rosemary that her friend had deep feelings for the man. And it had also become obvious to her that Lord Anthony Stark had feelings, too. For Dare. This past week had told her that much. She'd also seen that Dare was flaunting whatever relationship she shared with Remy in Stark's face. The man was slowly, gradually losing his temper with the display.
She wondered. It looked as if Dare and Stark had known one another for some time. And word had it that Lord had been killed some five years past. If Dare had known Lord Stark at the same time she'd known Robert Lord... The thought that rolled through her mind brought her feet to a halt. Was it possible? Had Lord Anthony Stark killed Robert Lord in a jealous rage? Would he have done something like that? And if he had, did that mean that Dare was in danger?
The notion that Stark might hurt her friend saw her falling into a minor panic. She turned to retrace her steps, rapidly, to the building that dominated the island. But her steps were brought up short when she found that the man she'd seen last night, the one who reminded her of James, stood directly behind her. The smile that spread across his face set her on edge. He lifted a hand and reached for her, prompting her to take a step back. His fingers caught hold of her hair and gently tested the texture. "Good eve, fair maiden."
"You. I saw you in the hall last night." He said nothing, simply let his smile grow until it became a smirk. "You're responsible for whatever happened. What did you do?"
His blue eyes sparkled as he cocked his head and gave her a considering look. "Naught more than a little magic. Don't tell me you didn't enjoy yourself. The exploits of the thunder god are legend. As is the size of his cock. No doubt he kept you well occupied. What about your other bed partner?"
"Anything that I may or may not do behind closed doors is business that does not concern you." The initial shock had worn off, leaving her feeling defensive.
"Even if those things are with my father?" She blinked at his words, but didn't let him see anything on his face. Not that it mattered. Something told her that he had the same keen senses that James did. If James was, in fact, his father. She didn't think she needed to doubt what he'd said. He looked just like James.
"Especially if those things are with your father." She'd known James had been alive quite some time, but she hadn't realized that he was old enough to have a son who appeared to be the same age that she was. "Anything he and I do is our business and ours alone."
She didn't think it was possible but his smirk grew even bigger than it had been. "Father always has liked his women with spirit. He likely chose you because you keep him on his toes. Make him feel young." He closed the distance between them and leaned closer to her. She heard him draw a breath deep into his lungs. No doubt he was scenting her. She remained still, watched as he circled her. His nose worked the entire time, his nose pulling the smell of her deep into his lungs. When he stopped, he was once again facing her. This time, he bared his teeth at her. "You smell of wildness, little one. No wonder Father is taken with you."
"You have no idea what you speak of." She didn't like that he seemed capable of reading her so well. So easily.
He leaned in again, until his mouth hovered just over hers. She wondered if he was going to kiss her. But his nose sniffed at her again as it showed his mouth the way across her cheek to where her ear lay hidden under her hair. His breath plumed across her skin, hot and intimate, and blew her hair away. The tip of his nose touched the upper shell of her ear. "Witchbreed." He drew back and looked her in the eye. "Has my father seen your feline form? Does he know you change yourself into a giant cat?
"What do you want?" She wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of answering his questions. It really was none of his business.
He stepped back and looked her up and down. She swore she could feel his eyes linger on the curve of her breasts and then her hips. When he finally lifted his gaze back to hers, he only smirked at her again. "Give my best to my Father."
And then he was gone.
Rosemary hurried toward the back of the building, where she knew a second door was located. It would let her into Thor's home without requiring her to go through the hall. She didn't want to have to face anyone after her encounter with the stranger. All she wanted to do was seek the solace of her chambers and spend the last night on this place pondering what this new information meant to her relationship with James. The back entrance would allow her to go to her room without encountering anyone else.
She'd barely stepped into the hallway before her sharpened senses picked up the sounds of arguing coming from a closed door. One voice was male and cultured. The other was feminine and accented. Filled with anger. Dare. She wondered if she should remain nearby on the off chance her friend would need her. Dare wouldn't thank her for interfering in her business. But the latest turn of events left Rosemary feeling that things were fast slipping out of their control.
"Alasdare, you..." That voice belonged to Stark. And it trailed off when the smell of fire and ash flooded her nose. It seemed as if Dare's temper was climbing. Rosemary frowned at that. She inched closer to the door she was sure the voices were behind.
Dare's voice cut him off. "Nay! I'm done with it. I'm going tae tell them. All of them. I'm going tae tell them what I did. What ye and that bitch made me do." Who was she talking about? And what had they made her do?
"Do you think that will lift the guilt you feel, my sweet? Do you think that will atone for the sins you've committed?" There was little in his voice to tell her what he felt, a hint of concern, but she thought she could just catch a whiff of guilt and regret from him. What sins had Dare committed that this man knew about?
Dare's voice was bitter acid that cut the air. She was so upset. "Sins I committed in her name. And yers, Stark. Dinnae forget that ye're as responsible for all of this as I am." Rosemary had never heard such guilt in her friend's voice before. What had she done that she felt such remorse for? But the thing that she found most intriguing and most confusing was the fear that she could smell coming from the other woman. Something had her scared. Deeply frightened.
It couldn't be a coincidence that all of these new emotions and smells came to bear when Samuel Lord had arrived. Rosemary was sure that the man had something to do with it all. If this was true, though, the conversation meant that Stark wasn't the one responsible for what had happened to Robert Lord. Her eyes went wide as the implications hit her. What in the world was going on?
Before she had a chance to chase the truth down the path to its proper conclusion, Stark was speaking again. "Do you think it wise to confess these sins now? With Lord's brother here? The man is out for blood. In case you've forgotten, he's out for your blood." Despite the lack of concern in his voice, it was obvious to Rosemary that Stark didn't like what had happened here. And something suggested that he didn't like seeing Dare in the state she was in.
"I ken that weel enough. I dinnae think I'll ever forgive myself for that day. I ken I'll never forgive ye for it." Dare sounded... resigned. Lost.
She had to strain to hear Stark's next words. "His death wasn't my fault, Alasdare."
That sentence brought Dare's temper back to a slow boil. There was almost pure hatred in her voice and Rosemary didn't know if it was for the man with her or herself. "Och, and does that lie help ye sleep at night?"
Stark ignored her snide comment. It was almost as if he didn't hear it because the air was flooded with the smell of the man's fear. "I did not come back here to argue with you, Alasdare. I came here to warn you that you should remain hidden until Lord sails in the morning. If he finds you here, if he even lays eyes on you, there will be nothing I can do to stop him."
She blinked at that. Stark was afraid of what would happen to Dare? Did he care for her that much? If he did, why hadn't he told her?
"Mayhap I should let him do what he will with me. Mayhap `tis what I deserve." Her voice was quiet and soft. She believed that she deserved to be punished.
"Do you think Robert would agree with you on that, my sweet? And what of your new pet? The one who bears a striking resemblance to a dead man. A dead man you're responsible for murdering."
Of course Rosemary knew that Dare had killed before. She was a pirate. It came with the title. But this was news to her. Dare had killed Robert Lord? Why had she never said anything about that? And why did Lord Anthony Stark know?
Rosemary had heard enough. She did her best to tune out their voices and turned away from the door to continue on the way to her chamber. She found herself staring at the tall blonde that Haley had entertained the entire week they'd been at Thor's hall. The look in his blues eyes suggested that he had heard as much as she had. She flashed him an uneasy smile and sidled past him. She couldn't believe she hadn't sensed him standing behind her. She'd been that lost in her thoughts and the conversation she'd listened in on.
What she'd heard made things that had been happening for the past five years begin to make sense. All of the times she'd met with Stark. The ships they'd gone after that had seemed an odd choice. Certain people being sought out. Dare's temper, always growing though she kept it to herself.
She didn't find the solace she was looking for in her room. All she found there was more confusion. It was well into the night before her mind settled enough to allow sleep to take her.
~*~*~*~*~
Where the bloody hell was he? Haley sighed and tossed the blankets aside. Climbing from the bed, she reached for her discarded gown with the intent of getting dressed. It looked as if she was going to have to go looking for him. Perhaps he'd gotten lost and she needed to go find him. Clinton had wanted to visit the privy and seek out a wench. She wasn't sure what he needed to find a wench for. Especially not when she was willing and waiting for him.
This was her last night at Thor's hall. And her last night with Clinton. She didn't know when she'd see him again. If she'd see him again. She thought it was possible, given that Dare often met up with Lord Stark when they were in Kennewycke. But would he want to see her again? Haley shook her head and pushed those thoughts away. She didn't need to do that to herself. Not now. Not with the dawning only hours away.
She could torture herself with things that weren't meant to be later.
She was just pulling the laces that tightened the gown down when there was a swift rap at the door. The panel opened and Clinton stepped in. He wore a puzzled look on his face that made her wonder what had happened to him while he'd been out wandering the halls. Muttering a curse under her breath, she began loosening the laces on the gown then tugged the offending item off and tossed it to the floor.
He was lost in thought. "How well do you know your friends, Haley?" he asked, completely ignoring the fact that she'd stripped naked for him. "How much do you know about them?"
"A fair amount, I'd say." She crossed her arms and glared at him. "What makes you ask?"
"I overheard a conversation that leaves me wondering if you know your friends as well as you think you do." He lifted his gaze to meet hers. She lifted a brow in invitation to continue. There was apparently something on his mind that he wished to discuss. He had all of a minute before she stripped him naked, climbed on top of him and rode him to the floor. "Your friend Dare. She... I heard... Are you aware that she's killed people?"
Haley stared at him. Surely he was kidding? "Does the word pirate mean nothing to you?" Of course she knew that Dare had killed people. They all had. Each of them. It was the nature of their lives at sea. And while Haley couldn't speak for the other girls, she herself knew that those deaths weighed heavily on her soul when she allowed herself to think about them. Perhaps one day she could seek forgiveness. But not now when she was still a pirate and would likely kill more people. And certainly not at the minute, when all she could think about was pulling his clothing from his body and memorizing every last inch of it with her lips and tongue and teeth and hands.
Before he could respond to her question, she stepped into him and let her fingers work at the belt he wore. Those weren't the swords she was interested this night. She let the wide strip of leather hit the floor with a dull thud before her hands began pulling his tunic up over his head. "Haley?"
"I want to see you naked, Clinton," she told him, the hunger she felt for him in her voice. The tunic had barely left her fingers when she was tugging at his breeches. It was no difficult task to pull the ties that held the garment up. She slid it down to his ankles, dropping to her knees so that she could pull his feet free. When she had his breeches tossed aside, she tipped her head back and stared up at him. His eyes had started to darken and the length of his cock was beginning to harden. She reached up with one hand and took hold of him.
A long, ragged sigh left his throat as her hand stroked him. She let it glide up and down his shaft once, twice, then she tightened it around the base and leaned toward him. He hissed a breath when her mouth closed over the head and sucked at it gently. Her hands settled on his hips as she swallowed him down. "By God, Haley. I'd love nothing more than to have you worship me with your mouth. But that isn't how I want to spend this night."
With supreme effort, he pulled his cock from her mouth. His hands reached for her, pulled her to her feet and into the circle of his arms. "But this is our last night, Clinton. I thought..."
"It is our last night, love. And because it is, I want to make such memories as to make the angels in Heaven weep. Let this night be slow and tender. Let it be filled with gentleness. Let me make love to you as you deserve."
His words stole her breath. Before she could think to reply, his head dipped and his mouth covered hers. She sighed and melted against him. The touch of his hands was light as they explored the curve of her spine, the shape of her arse. His tongue slid into her mouth, skimmed against her own as they danced and twined. Tasted every inch of her. The proof of his desire was caught between them, the blood within it pulsing in time with his beating heart. She wanted him inside of her now, wanted to feel him filling her. She didn't know if she could wait.
He pulled back only when they needed air. Their panting breaths filled the silence of the room as they stared at one another. There was such need in his eyes that they were nearly the dark blue that painted the sky when the sun started to set below the horizon. Seeing that need had her shivering in his hold. She'd seen a look like that once before, in a different pair of eyes. She'd almost forgotten what it felt like to have someone look at her that way. "Haley?"
"I don't deserve such a look," she whispered softly. He frowned and brought a hand up to cup her cheek gently.
"You deserve such a look every day of your life, love. That and so much more. Allow me to show you," he whispered. She swallowed hard. It was on her tongue to say no. Her heart didn't want to think of what the look meant. But her body wouldn't let her pass the opportunity up. She found herself nodding at him in the affirmative. As if he'd asked permission. He smiled at her, then scooped her up in his arms. Her body was cradled against his as he crossed the few steps there were to the bed and laid her down upon its surface.
There was such reverence in the look he gave her. His eyes started with her face and simply stared for a few moments before they started to slide down. In a matter of seconds, one of his hands was following the path his eyes had took. He touched her brow, traced his fingers down the side of her face to her jaw. By then, his eyes had found her breasts. The weight of his stare saw her nipples hardening in anticipation.
The flat of his hand curved around the underside of her jaw and shaped her throat before opening over the spot where her neck met the rest of her body. He turned his hand so that his fingers pointed straight up toward her chin, continued lower. She shuddered when he dragged his hand between her breasts. His other hand rose up to join the first, following it between her breasts. Then they split and drifted to the left and the right until one thumb rested under each globe. His fingers framed the sides, lifting them and stroking them lightly.
His head dipped and her eyes slid shut as his mouth closed, hot and hungry, around one of her nipples. A long sighing moan rolled up out of her throat as he lavished attention on her breast. When he wasn't readily sucking on her nipple, his mouth bit and nipped at it and the flesh surrounding it. His hand shaped and held her breasts, his fingers shifting ever so slightly against it so as to bombard her with a variety of sensations all at once. And when he deemed he'd spent long enough on one breast, he shifted his attention to the other so that he could lavish it with the same treatment.
By the time he lifted his head away so that he could look at her, she was writhing on the bed. Her body hungered for his, leaving her hoping and praying that he would climb between her thighs and drive himself inside of her. He didn't. Instead, his hands slid down her torso, one on either side, until they came to her hips. Then they turned inward and ghosted across her belly. The muscles there quivered under his touch.
His mouth joined his hands only moments later. She sighed again as his tongue traced around her navel, as his teeth nipped at the edges of the indentation. Each minor pain that he inflicted was soothed with a kiss and the touch of his tongue against her flesh. She thought that perhaps every muscle in her body had been reduced to liquid.
When he was done showering her abdomen with attention, his head lifted away so that he could cast a look up at her. The smile that curved up his lips was half angel and half devil. One hand slid away from her hip and slowly inched its way down her thigh. At the same time, his mouth mirrored that hand so that one leg was teased by the gentle touch of his fingers and the other was treated to the press of his lips against the pliant flesh. His progress was slow and steady, his hands and lips taking special care with her knees. Downward he went, pressing kisses to the curve of her calf. Trailing feather soft fingers over her skin. Sending shivers up and down her spine.
After what seemed an age, he finally reached her feet. His hands against them were so gentle that she almost didn't feel it. His lips brushed the protrusion of her ankle bone and the top of her foot. The switch was so smooth that she almost didn't realize he'd made it. His mouth began to climb up the leg that had been touched by his hand, while the leg that he'd pressed kisses to was being caressed by his hand.
Haley felt herself melting even further into the mattress, her body pliant under his expert touch. Each press of his lips, each stroke of his hand, sent small fingers of pleasure crawling through her until it felt as if there were hundreds and thousands of those tiny fingers in her belly and between her thighs. Her body wanted him so badly but the words wouldn't come. Between the gasps and the moans, between the groans and sighs, there was no room for her to form words.
By the time his mouth returned to her hip, she was ready to pull him up over her. But it seemed that Clinton had other ideas. His lips drifted lazily across her belly toward her navel again, then suddenly switched directions and headed straight down. His hands curled around her thighs, pressed them up and apart until she was exposed to his view. And he looked.
She found the sight so intoxicating that her body spasmed with need.
The heat of his breath against her skin was her only warning. His tongue slid between the swollen folds of her flesh, pressing into her body as far as it could go. The sigh that rolled out of Haley's throat seemed to come from the very depths of her soul. His hands shifted position and came to rest at the very tops of her thighs, so that they framed his face. His fingers teased her there, slowly peeling the plump lips aside to grant him better access to her core. She nigh unto screamed when the tip of his tongue touched the tiny nubbin of flesh hidden between those lips.
Everything seemed to stop. Her breath froze in her lungs, thoughts slid away. Even her heart seemed to pause in mid-beat. All that she could see, feel, taste, touch and smell was him. The feel of his mouth moving against her down there. The sensations brought screaming to life by the texture of his tongue as it alternated between licking at her and plunging into her. The silk of his hair against her fingers and palms. The smell of lust that seemed to permeate the air. She swore she could taste their need as it hovered around them and cloaked them.
He alternated between using his tongue and his fingers. She didn't know when his hands had moved further in, but the fingers on one of them stroked in and out of her body. Tugged at that little bit of flesh. Pinched her nether lips. Each one of his touches ignited a fire under her skin. Those tiny little fires grew and spread, combining with one another until she felt as if she was going to burn away in a roaring blaze that would reach the very heavens.
Time caught up with them again and, in the blink of an eye, her body was tight and tense. It started low in her belly and gradually spread out until she felt that tension in the tips of her fingers and her toes. Fingers and toes that curled up tightly as a familiar feeling began flooding her body. He lifted his head, only slightly, so that she could see the gleam in his eyes. Then he lowered his head again and his mouth closed over her, pressed a kiss against her nether lips. He drew that sensitive nubbin of flesh between his lips. And he sucked.
Haley nearly came up off the bed. Her entire body tensed for just a moment. The tension slid away, leaving her to break into pieces of colored glass that caught the light from the two candles. She saw the rainbow behind her eyes, saw sparkling shimmers of pleasure. When she could see again, it was to find him looming over her. Sweat and her own juices shone on his face. He was smiling at her, his eyes dark with his own need. "There is nothing on the face of the earth more beautiful than a woman caught in her passion. I enjoy seeing that look on your face. I love putting that look on your face."
His words send a ripple of pleasure through her. It wasn't the same kind that his mouth had given her but it was enough to see her reaching for him. She wanted nothing more than for him to fill her with himself, to spend the night wrapped in his arms while he put that look on her face again and again and again.
He didn't let her tug him up over her, which had been her intent. Instead, he began kissing a slow path back up her body. His tongue paid attention to her belly button, lavishing it and teasing it until she shuddered from the shooting tingles that speared through her from that one spot. When he finished with the small indentation, he started upward again, his mouth, teeth and tongue working in tandem to rekindle the fires of need that had burned to ash in the face of her climax. She noted that he made a side trip to her breasts, his mouth feasting upon them with wild abandon. He left nips in the flesh, suckled on her nipples. She was writhing beneath him in no time at all.
Finally, after it felt as if an age had passed, his mouth took hers. She could taste herself on him, a lingering hint of flavor coating his tongue and his lips. It added to the need she felt. As did the evidence of his need for her. The hard, thick length of him pressed against her flesh was an enticement that she wanted to feel pushing inside of her. "Please don't make me wait any longer, Clinton." His name came out on a whisper, like some prayer to a god of old. The sound of it darkened his gaze even further. Her hands stroked down his back until they came to rest on the delicious curves of his arse. "I want you to..." Her bravery faltered. She'd said those words once before, to only one other. And it had hurt her heart to do so, knowing what would come to pass. She'd told herself then that it had all been for the best. But those words were cold comfort in the light of day.
One of his hands reached up to stroke her face, his touch gentle. "Haley?" Obviously he'd sensed the turmoil within her. His eyes were filled with concern. So was his voice. She needed to come up with a lie to appease him. Needed to stop herself from making a terrible mistake. "Tell me, Haley. What is it you want?"
"I want you to... to make love to me." She stumbled over the words but managed not to push them out in a rush. The concern faded away, replaced by heat and a small dash of wonder.
"Such difficult words for such a brave pirate. Shall I pour you a drink?" He was teasing, of course. She could see it in his eyes, hear it in his voice. She pondered hitting him, but turned the idea aside as detrimental to their mood.
"All I need is you." That came easier. She hadn't realized how difficult a single sentence, four little words, could be. As if to prove to him that what she said was true, she wrapped her arms and legs around him so that she could tug him closer. "Please."
He smiled at her, then rolled them until he was on his back, her body draped over his. His hands convinced her to sit up, urging her up onto her knees. She watched as he did the same, rising up to sit with his legs curled up under him. She didn't move right away. Instead, she simply sat there and stared at him.
His hands lifted so that they could take hold of her hips. She thought that he would pull her into his lap, but he didn't. Instead, his hands traced her curves. He started with the top of her arse before drawing them forward to frame her waist. His touch was light and gentle, the softest thing she'd ever felt against her skin. When the heels of his palms met over her belly, his fingers splayed wide. His hands began rising slowly. The tips of his fingers touched the undersides of her breasts first, then shifted outward until his hands were formed to the bottoms of them. He held that position for a moment, then his hands moved so that they cupped her breasts.
He leaned in, his head dipping until he could trail his tongue along the upper swells. Again he lavished attention upon her nipples, leaving her sighing. Her hands were in his hair, on his back, holding him to her. Stabilizing her as she arched her back to offer up more of her flesh to his hungry mouth.
His hands dropped away from her breasts, though she barely noticed. They circled around behind her back at the waist and tugged her closer to him. She moaned in regret when his head lifted from her breasts. But his eyes found hers and held them while he positioned her legs so that she sat in his lap with the length of her bent limbs nestled against his own.
It was she who made the last move. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders while she lifted up just enough to allow him to find his cock. The head of it brushed her curls, slid against the sensitive bit of flesh between her thighs before it came to rest at her opening, just caught between the swollen folds of her flesh. And it was she who slowly drove herself down over him, taking every last glorious inch of him into her body.
He let go a long, low groan of pleasure as her body closed around his own. His hands found her hips and set a rhythm, something that was so slow and languid that it was almost as if she wasn't moving. When he was certain she didn't need his help to maintain the unhurried up and down of her hips, he took his hands away and let them climb up her back. His fingers tangled in the length of her hair and tugged her head back until the line of her throat was exposed to him. His mouth lowered to it and began pressing kisses to the taut surface, began nipping and licking at the flesh.
Their pace was lazy. She shifted only enough to pull up before dropping back down on top him. His mouth remained locked to her throat. On occasion, he'd bend her backwards until he could take a nipple into his mouth. How he did it, she didn't know. Nor did she care. The friction was sweet, building up inside of her like the air sometimes felt just before a storm broke. She could always feel it brewing, feel the charge that left the air heavy and anxious, as if waiting for something big to happen. That was how she felt now, all thick and heavily laden with anticipation. Like the calm before the storm.
It was heaven to sit in his lap and feel him moving inside of her. Even though she was the one who kept pace, who shifted her hips slowly and lazily, he gave the occasional deep thrust that brought sighs and moans to life, brought them spilling out of her mouth to color the room with her passion and desire. His hands stroked her skin, teased and played and prompted in a way she'd never experienced before. She was no virginal bride being led to the marriage bed, but his experience made her feel like that blushing maid she'd once been. And even though her mind didn't quite know what it was they were doing together, her body understood every action and motion, every word he never said. With his hands touching her, with his mouth caressing her, with his body joined with her own, she was flying. Truly flying. She never wanted to come down.
The climax was so unexpected that she couldn't help the cry of surprise and completion that rolled up out of her throat. Her body went liquid in his hold, coming to a complete halt as she rode out the waves of pleasure that his slow, careful movements had given her. That he kept giving her. His hips beat out a series of long, deep thrusts against her that kept the sensations spiraling through her until she found herself begging him to let her rest.
Clinton stilled his motions and held her against him until the slight shivers and shakes passed and she found herself leaning on him almost bonelessly. His hands stroked up and down her back while he whispered words of promise and passion in her ear. Most of it seemed to pass through her head without registering, but she caught a few words that should have frightened her. There was a seriousness to his voice that lent a new level of intimacy to their coupling. What she did hear was that he wanted her to stay with him, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life doing this.
Such words scared the life out of her. Because in some corner of her mind, she wanted that, too. And she knew she could never have it. She could still see Harper's eyes over the climbing flames, could still hear his screams in her head. Seeing that had scarred her for life. If anyone was to discover her secret... No. She couldn't put another living soul through that. Ever. It was best if she found a way to distract him from such flights of fancy.
"Clinton," her voice was husky with need. "Please."
"Lean back, Haley." He helped her, his hands offering support as she did as he'd asked. Without being told, she rested the lower half of her arms against the bedding and then her head. It left her back resting on his bent legs. She was still joined to him at the waist. The shifting of her position made changes to the angle and depth of his cock inside of her. She bit off a low moan before wrapping her legs around his waist. His hands took hold of her hips. "Ready, love?"
"Yes." A thrill ran through her. Secretly, she liked it when he called her love. It would be a lovely memory to help keep her warm at night when all she had were the memories she'd made.
His grip on her tightened just a little before he drew his hips back slowly. She sighed, then whimpered when it felt as if he was going to withdraw from her entirely. But the look in his eyes assured her that this was for real, that he wasn't leaving her and that he didn't ever want to let her go. That look stopped the breath in her lungs. His hips pushing him back in saw her expelling that breath in a moan.
Once again, his actions were so slow that it felt at times as if they were barely moving. She wanted to tell him that he needn't be so focused on her pleasure but something stilled the words in her throat. This was what he wanted and to take it from him would be selfish. So she relaxed back into the mattress, planted her arms and feet in order to provide leverage for herself. He smiled when her hips joined him in his lazy rhythm. In moments, anything not related to their joining was gone from her head as his ministrations once again plunged her deep into a thick pool of sticky pleasure that held her as surely as the gossamer strands of a spider's web held a fly.
She was unaware of the passage of time. It wasn't measured by the melting of the candles that lit the room. She couldn't see the stars or the moon in the night sky, wouldn't know if they were falling down around her shoulders. She wouldn't care if they were falling down around her shoulders. What mattered to her was Clinton, the way he stared at her and the way his body moved against hers. As if he was worshipping her. It seemed an odd way to describe the act they were caught up in, but it was true. His motions were so slow and so painstakingly careful. Crafted entirely for her pleasure. She was so caught up in him, so lost to the sensations, that she counted the passage of time with each of his strokes.
They could have been there minutes or hours. It could have been a day or a week. A month. A year. She wouldn't have known the difference. She wouldn't have cared. This moment was what mattered. This one tiny grain of sand in the hour glass meant more to her than anything had in a very long time. She would cherish this night for the rest of her days.
His hips moved a little faster, creating more of that devilishly wonderful friction. It began filling her up again. She realized, staring up into the handsomeness of his face and the utter concentration she saw there, that he would dedicate himself wholly to pleasing her if she didn't remind him that pleasure was best when shared by both parties. She lifted her hands, let them glide up and down his torso. Her fingers teased his nipples, traced the lines of each muscle they found. They drew circles around his navel until the muscles beneath them quivered. "Haley," he groaned, his hips stilling for a minute. "Haley, love. Don't. I can't..."
"You've given me so much pleasure already, Clinton. Please don't deny yourself." She knew her voice was rough and husky with desire. She hoped that it would help convince him just as much as her hands would. "Just as you like to see my pleasure upon my face, I like to see your pleasure riding you. I want to see it. I want to feel you filling me with yourself. I want... Seeing you find your pleasure will give me pleasure. Please, Clinton. Don't deny me this."
She could tell by the look on his face that her words had made an impact on him. His eyes were so dark, they were nearly black. Passion and desire and need had built up in them until she didn't think anyone would be able to unravel them. Droplets of sweat stood out against his brow and dotted his chest. "Anything for you." He leaned forward and took her mouth in a hot, demanding kiss that curled her toes. Left her gasping for breath. Sent such tingles through out her body that she wondered how he couldn't feel it.
There was no time for words now, no room. He gave himself over entirely to finding his pleasure. She thought that he would start thrusting slowly, but she found she was wrong. Almost immediately, the tension of his mounting need saw him slapping his hips against hers harshly. The sensations rippled through her. Her hands caught his shoulders and pulled him down toward her. Their mouths met again while his body pounded into hers. She buried her fingers in his hair, shifted the position of her legs, and let her body follow his lead.
They moved together, bodies racing toward one goal. She wasn't sure what he felt but the tension was so intense for her. Strung so tightly that she thought she might shatter with a breath of air. He dragged his mouth from hers, gasping and panting loudly. Somehow, he fit one hand between them so that he could put his fingers on that spot that she knew would see her shattering into pieces. All of his weight on his other hand, he leaned down so that he could whisper his words into her ear. "Come with me, Haley. Fly with me. Let us fall into oblivion together, love."
His words, the touch of his fingers, the way his cock speared into her... It all combined to break her. She heard herself call out. Heard his answering response, little more than a hoarse groan. Felt her body tense before it shattered. Felt his body tense and still for just the space of a heartbeat. They hung together on the edge of the precipice for a glittering moment. Then they fell through bright flashes of light into shadows that tasted of salt and spent pleasure.
When she pried her eyes open, Haley found his body covering hers. Their chests heaved in time with one another. Sweat darkened the golden hair upon his head. He lifted up slowly, as if his limbs were made of little more than rubber, and rolled to the side. His arms pulled her close until her head lay against his chest. She could hear his heart pounding madly in his chest. It was a song that lulled her into sleep. She felt his chest rumble under her ear, vaguely noted that he was speaking to her.
But whatever he said was lost to the haze of pleasure and exhaustion that dragged her into sleep.
~*~*~*~*~
Jehnna frowned as she stared around the hall. There were still men laying scattered across the floor, sleeping as if they had nary a care in the world. Perhaps they didn't. She did note that none of them were her own crew members. Thank God for small favors. Then again, Morgan had made it clear to everyone last night that any man not on the ship when she was ready to set sail would be left behind. It appeared everyone had taken it to heart, which was a good thing, Morgan would leave them if they weren't on the ship when she was ready to set sail.
A wench brought her a tray piled with breakfast foods. She knew she should be making ready to sail, but she wasn't sure when next they would be treated to such a fine meal. She planned on enjoying it for as long as she could.
The young sailor she'd spent her night with staggered into the hall, his slow gait attesting to the hard use she'd given him yester eve. He flashed her a smile as he passed, but didn't try to sit with her or touch her. She wondered if she'd scared him, then decided it didn't matter. He'd only been a temporary diversion. Her heart belonged now, as always, to the stoic Russian who worked for Ophelia. He expected nothing of her and yet gave her everything she could ever want. She wasn't sure, but she thought that she might actually care deeply for him.
People were beginning to rise, climbing from their pallets to greet the new day. Many of them were the refugees she'd spent the week getting to know. Unlike the other women, she'd passed the time speaking with the people Thor took in and protected. There wasn't a one of them who hadn't been born a Witchbreed. And all of them were afraid of the church and the authorities. She'd met them all, learned their names and their stories. Some of them had no family, some of them had family that had turned them out. None of them had anyone they could go to.
Except Thor. She'd thought the man a big oaf, with nothing betwixt his ears beyond sword fights, drinking and fornicating. But she was coming to see that there was so much more to him than she'd first believed. He'd opened up his home to people who might otherwise have died in the streets. Or dancing at the end of a noose. People didn't understand Witchbreed, thought of them as evil. As abominations.
Jehnna had never liked being called an abomination.
Her opinion of their host had changed with each story she heard. Some of the people she'd talked to had been condemned to death. Some had been merely thrown from their homes and left to live on the streets. These people, who had no where to go and no one to help them, those who were without hope, had found help in one of Thor's men. Some had been made slaves on estates or upon ships. These people, too had been liberated by someone else. She'd been surprised to find that Lord Stark had brought some of the refugees to the island aboard his own ship. Other people had simply found their way there. As Thor had said one night, those who had need of his help would be able to find his island.
She didn't like the idea of leaving them behind but there was no way they could sail with the ship. There wasn't enough room for all of them and, God's truth, the ocean wasn't the place for those who couldn't protect themselves. She was glad to know that these people would be safe here with Thor.
Sighing, she broke the fast with her first bite of steaming hot eggs. She wasn't going to miss this place. Quite the opposite. She was looking forward to putting out to sea once again. There had been such tension this past week, most of it surrounding Lord Anthony Stark and Dare. Of course, knowing the Scotswoman as she did, the tension wasn't all that surprising. It was amazing no one had been killed during their sennight upon the island. Taking to the oceans again would be good for the other woman. It would get her away from the man who seemed to keep her on edge all the time.
Speaking of... That one had been acting strange last night. Especially after the appearance of the other man. What was his name? She hadn't really been paying attention. All she knew was that Dare had remained absent the whole evening and Stark had gone off after a time, presumably to look for her. Whether or not he'd found her was an entirely different matter. Just who was it that the stranger had been looking for? He'd been most adamant that the person responsible for his brother's death was there.
Her mind put two and two together and gave her an answer she didn't much care for. Frowning, Jehnna pushed the thought from her mind and allowed herself to fully enjoy her meal. There was freshly baked fish and bread, fried potatoes and eggs. Honey and butter and cold milk to drink. It was a good meal. And that was one of the few things she was going to miss about this place. The excellent cooking. The cook they had upon the ship had only gotten the job because no one else wanted to do it.
With her meal finished, there wasn't anything to keep her from making the trek down to the sloop. She'd taken all of her possessions down yesterday, with exception of the clothing she was wearing and her sword. It would be a good idea to go and make sure that preparations were underway for their sailing. But something made her linger. And, again, her eyes sought out the refugees on the other side of the hall.
Rising from the table, she made her way across the floor until she stood before a pair of them. Sister and brother, they were twins and as opposite as night and day. She was the softer, gentler of the two while he was harsh and arrogant. But both of them smiled when they saw her approach and they rose from the table where they were breaking their fast. "I wanted to come and bid you a good day. I am not sure if we will see one another again."
The smiles fell just a little. "So you're leaving then?" The brother, Pietro, asked the question. The arrogance he'd cultured all his life was thick in his words.
"I'm afraid so. I cannot stay here indefinitely. There are ships yet to be robbed. A pirate's life is not one of ease." She hated to see the disappointment in their eyes. "But if I get the chance, I will come back."
"We'd enjoy it if you were to visit again." The sister. Wanda. She offered another smile.
"We can't stay here indefinitely, Wanda. Thor will tire of us and then where will we go?"
Jehnna could see that the fear of being displaced or discovered was deep. She made her decision then and there. "My friend Rosemary comes from a place where there is no one to judge you. It lies far across the ocean, but I don't think it is an unattainable goal. I'll steal a ship of my own and captain it back here. Then my crew and I will sail you to this new land, where Witchbreed can live without fear."
They wanted to believe. They really did. She could see it in their eyes. And in the eyes of those who had gathered around them. But they didn't dare let themselves believe it. Not yet. Life had taught them to expect nothing but pain and disappointment. She would see to it that they'd never be disappointed again. "I swear upon all that is holy and upon God himself. I will return for you."
Smiles came then, tentative and as beautiful as the sun breaking through the clouds after a week of storms. The promise felt good and right. She knew that she'd keep it. She would help these people, her friends, the way Thor had helped them. That thought heavy in her brain, she lost herself in saying good bye to them all, to restating her promise over and over again.
When she finally dragged herself away from them, there was a large smile upon her face and tears glistening in her eyes.
~*~*~*~*~
He was still sleeping when Haley woke. Sun poured through the high window, painting the room with gold. His arm was a heavy weight across her abdomen, as if he'd known that she would wake early and attempt to leave him. She lifted his arm carefully and slid from under it. If she could keep from rousing him long enough to get dressed, she could make it to the ship before he caught her and tried to stop her. She knew he would try to stop her.
And part of her wanted him to stop her.
It wasn't right. None of it was. She shouldn't have let herself become entangled with him. Something had shifted between them between that first night and the last. Something she didn't dare try and name. She hadn't felt this way in a very long time. Not since... She pushed that thought aside. She didn't want to think on what she'd lost anymore than she wanted to think on what it was that might have come to life between them.
Hadn't she done this before? Hadn't she done this with someone else? She'd been so simple and silly then, merely a naive little girl who hadn't seen that the big, wide world liked to eat people like her up. She'd thought that they could be happy. She'd thought that they could have a life and a family together. They'd been on their way to doing just that. But Harper's death had changed it all. She'd grown up that day, realized that she couldn't put him through it. She'd loved him too much. She still did love him. And she could still recall that night as if it had been yesterday.
She'd gone to him, to give him one last gift to remember her by. They'd been in love and they'd been betrothed, something that most couples didn't have. But her parents had been different. They'd only wanted the best for her. And it had been at that party that her father had made all of her dreams come true.
"What do you think of Lord Storm's son?"
"What do I think of..." her cheeks burned again. "He is a good man, from what I know of him." Her father studied the look on her face for a moment.
"Haley," he tilted her head so that she had to look at him. "I have always told you that I want an extraordinary life for my children. Your brother has a good match with his intended." She read what he wasn't saying in his face. He knew, as she did, that Harper truly loved Theresa, and it seemed her father was happy to see his son that way. "I want the same for you, child."
"I think..." she spoke slowly, trying to phrase what she was thinking properly. She let her gaze fall over her father's shoulder and land back on Jonathan. She had spent a good deal of time with him lately, always in the company of her brother. The two of them were friends, after all. She felt her heart race in her chest. Yes, she loved him. "I think it would be a good match, father." She smiled and brought her eyes back to the man in front of her.
A knowing smile crossed his face. "Your brother agrees."
"Does he?" She couldn't stop the small laugh that left her lips.
"He nodded. "And so do I. We will announce it as soon as is possible." He leaned in, kissing his daughter on the cheek. "I am happy for you, child."
"Thank you, father." She smiled as he led her back toward the others.
And she had been. Until that wretched bitch had spoilt everything for them. It was her fault that Haley hadn't been able to have her happy life with the man she'd loved. Because that bitch had turned the Stone family's lives upside down. She'd told the magistrate about Harper's abilities. And he'd been burned at the stake. That day had killed the little girl in Haley. And she'd known, watching her brother face his death, that she'd never be able to put Jonathan through that. So she'd decided to run.
But she'd had to see him one last time. To let him know that she loved him. To give him the most precious gift she could give him. That night, she'd gone to him and given him her innocence. He hadn't wanted to take it, had wanted to wait until their wedding. But she'd convinced him otherwise, made him give in to her desires. They'd snuck into his family's house, into his very chambers, and he'd laid her out on the bed. He'd made love to her. He'd made her a woman that night.
And she'd repaid him by leaving him.
He yawned as he tightened his grip on her. "I should take you home."
She tensed She hadn't exactly expected that. She wasn't entirely sure what she had been expecting but it wasn't that. "No... no, not yet." She snuggled in closer. "I don't want to leave you yet."
He looked down at her for a moment. "If someone sees you here..."
"I know." She sighed heavily, pressing a kiss to his shoulder. "I know, but... just a little longer?"
"Alright." He smoothed her hair a little. "I am in no hurry to give you back to the world either." He smiled, his eyes drifting closed a moment later and the most contented sound she'd ever heard left his lips. Slowly he drifted off, his hold on her relaxing as he did.
She slipped from the bed as quietly as she could manage, freezing to the spot at any small noise and willing herself not to cry. Not yet. Not until she was out of the house and far enough away to hide for the day before slipping onto a ship that would take her... well, nearly anywhere would do, as long as it was away. She looked out the window that faced out onto the garden as she pulled her boots on and hastily braided her hair. The drop was considerable, but nothing she couldn't handle. As long as no one heard her or saw her in her other form, she'd be fine as soon as she hit the ground.
And luck, for once, seemed to be with her. In mere moments, she had her satchel again, was tucking her braid under her hat and was heading toward the harbor. No reason to wait now, no reason to hide for the day. Her new life, whatever that may bring to her, was waiting and she'd never hesitated about such things before. Now was not the time to start, she told herself.
She didn't let herself glance back as she walked. She wiped the few tears that escaped her control from her cheeks. There was no place for sentiment and emotion in her life anymore. If her brother had taught her anything, it was that the world outside of their safe home and their safe friends was anything but safe. She had to be strong, tough and willing to do anything now. She had to survive, to live. Not just for herself, but for her brother. For Harper.
She'd stood over Jonathan that night for just a little while, watching him sleep while her heart broke in her chest. She hadn't ever thought that someone would ever make her feel anything like that again. She'd been wrong. Oh, so wrong. And while she wasn't sure that what she felt for Clinton was anything like what she'd felt for Jonathan, she knew she felt something for Clinton. Those were emotions that were best left hidden from the light of day. Hadn't Harper and Jonathan taught her that she couldn't afford to let herself care about anyone?
She turned away from Clinton and sought out her clothing. The breeches and corset and tunic that proclaimed to the world that she was a pirate. She pulled them on silently, leaving her boots and sword belt for after she left the room. For the hallway. She didn't let herself think upon what would happen to her heart, fragile thing that it was, when the sloop put out to sea. She'd simply throw herself into pirating and that would be the end of it.
There was nothing for her here.
Fully dressed in her clothes, in what she considered her armor, she took one last longing look toward the bed and the man sprawled across it. He'd kicked the covers away and was glorious in his nudity. Perfect. Beautiful. Not hers. She couldn't stay, even if she'd wanted to. No. There was nothing for her here.
She turned to collect her boots and her sword belt. His hand caught hers, warm and strong and so terribly capable. "Haley. Love." His voice was rough with sleep. She should ignore it, ignore him and pull her hand free. Leave the room. She didn't. Couldn't. Instead, she turned to face him and saw the look in his eyes. He knew and yet he would still ask. Because he was as rash as she was. Because he thought that there were hearts involved. "Haley. Stay with me."
"I can't, Clinton. I must go."
"Don't. Stay. Tell them you're staying. I don't want you to go."
She turned back to him, leaned over him so that she could press a kiss to his lips. "I have to go, Clinton. Go back to sleep." Perhaps when he woke up, it would be nothing more than a lovely dream for him.
She knew better.
To his credit, he didn't beg and plead. His hand slipped from hers. But he didn't go back to sleep. He stayed awake, stayed sitting as he watched her walk away from him. She knew he watched her even though she didn't look back.
And, to her credit, she didn't cry. Not until they were out to sea and she could blame the drops on her cheeks on the water that sprayed the deck as the prow cut through the ocean.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2011-03-24 05:02 am (UTC)And... woooooo! Girl! Damn! That was sweet and sensual and... every time she started to freak out, it almost seemed like he tried harder! I love it!
Yay! Wanda and Pietro! :D I'm so glad they made an appearance, and I hope Jehnna can keep her word on all that! :D
... that last part... God, girl! I've got tears in my eyes right now! That was beautiful and sad and... so absolutely perfect! Wonderful work! :)
(no subject)
Date: 2011-03-24 05:16 am (UTC)ah. good smut then? this is good to hear. cos i really wanted that to be just... unf. that's all i can say. unf.
yeah. i figured Wanda and Pietro would be the best bet. though note i didn't write a whole bunch of them. yeah. deep waters and all
the last bit... Haley had to be conflicted. that was all there is to it. she just had to be conflicted. so yeah. i'm sorry it made you sniffly, though.
i'm so glad you enjoyed. seriously
(no subject)
Date: 2011-03-24 10:17 pm (UTC)Beautiful chapter, love. I enjoyed it greatly. Nice weaving of plot and character development. Haley and Clinton's parting was just... I can't wait to read more.
(no subject)
Date: 2011-03-24 10:28 pm (UTC)yeah. Haley and Clint's parting was terribly bittersweet.
(no subject)
Date: 2012-03-21 02:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2012-03-21 06:25 am (UTC)Haley and Clint was terribly bittersweet. i think this fic will be more bittersweet than anything else, even though there will be happy endings come, well, the end.
i'm sure Jehnna will get to keep her promise to Pietro and Wanda. i've enjoyed kind of just throwing crap together for this story. its been fun.
i'm glad you enjoyed it, sweetie. really.