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( pirates life for me ) —AS IS YOUR DAMNATION/ ❛ filthy wretched compromises ❜
THE SPACE BETWEEN THEM COULD HAVE BEEN AN INVISIBLE LINE IF THEIR— lips were not touching. No doubt, he could feel her heart racing underneath her corset as that crooked smile of his lingered on his lips just a moment longer. Perhaps if time paused at this moment it wouldn't be all that bad. But he was here for something, and the doubt poisoned her skin as she knew he was here for a bargain. More than her.
"Sturmhond, huh?" Her voice was angelic as she echoed his name back. Pressing her hand lightly to his chest, she gazed up at him with doe like eyes almost to mask that there was something about her that was innocent.
A tiny chuckle escaped her lips before she cocked her head to the side. Her fingers trailing over the buttons of his jacket, the thin line of the space between them closing with every passing second. "I didn't know a pirate requested my presence," she smirked while leaning in closer so that her lips could brush his ear.
His hand snaked around her waist, pulling her closer towards him until indeed she could feel the pace of his own heart in rhythm with hers. The crooked smile broke into a grin until his grip tightened around her waist. "Oh darling, I'm not a pirate,"
"You're dressed like one,"
"I'm not a pirate,"
"Fancy singing me a shanty?"
"Again, I'm not a pirate. I'm a privateer,"
"And what do I owe the pleasure of having a privateer, like yourself, request to meet me in the secluded chambers of the leader of one of the gangs in Ketterdam?" Cassian asked as her hand found its way up to the side of his face, slowly grazing her fingers lightly over top of his soft lips.
"I've heard rumours that the Dragon of the West was said to be in the streets of Ketterdam. Never did I imagine to be graced with meeting her," Sturmhond replied with the same resilience as he kissed the fingers that so gracefully traced over his skin.
"Now, how about we save the romantic gestures,"
"I was only following your lead, my lady,"
"What business do you have, Sturmhond? And I suggest your answer to be blunt. That is, if you wish to see your gun fire a bullet into the side of your forehead,"
While the air in the room could have been suggested as erotic or euphoric, the pistol that Cassian held in her hand wedged right onto Sturmhond's right temple suggested otherwise. Two sly lynx playing a malicious game: one of stolen kisses and enclosed space. Only sucks a game between the two had ended as soon as Cassian Tamura placed her cards down on the table, hoping that the privateer would fold.
