A Pirate's Revenge - One Shot

The Kill

I had come here to kill him..... I just hadn't got around to that yet.

The night was soft and sprayed with ocean mist when I crept below deck, cloaked in darkness and all the deadly purpose that it brings. Well oiled wood softened, pliant to the sole of my boots as I crossed the cabin floor. I walked silently on the edge of shadows thrown by wind tossed sails and yet still I did not hear him coming. He emerged when my blade and double barrelled flintlock was just a caress of steel away and somehow now they lay abandoned and unbidden.

The ship's hull rocked on the high seas and we rocked with her. It was a 'ménage a trois' I had never thought to have with a pirate and his vessel. Every crash sent him surging into me. Every foam horsed wave had me clutching at his bronzed body like a maiden mid-swoon whose bloodied nails dragged across his salt course back in wanton frenzy.

He pulled the scallop trim of my blouse off my shoulders and slid a sailors deft hand behind my back caressing the soft flesh there. He whispered into my ear in a language that was not my own but it mattered little what he said. The shadow of his jaw scraped against my skin, painful and pleasurable like the devils own caress. The firm press of teeth bit deep into my neck followed leisurely by the warm, wet lave of his tongue. Pleasure and pain, again and again.

The ship lurched and my spine arched back even further yet not a slip of sea air passed between us. He moved his body like honey that coated a tongue, contorting to mould his flesh around mine. He had done this before- many times it would seem. I felt his rough calloused hand grip my thigh and I tightened my calves around his waist to stem the tide. Instead he cupped me , lifted me, and pushed me down onto his Captain's well worn desk with the precision of a hunter. His seafaring hardened torso pressed into the curves of mine, his heat penetrating through the leather and the silk-insistent and demanding. The edge of my shirt scraped over my breasts as they heaved traitorously against the strain of unyielding corset laces, allowing his bone necklet to dip into the valley of my cleavage and I waited for his tongue and teeth to follow.

I cared not that I did not know his name, or that the woman's image so obviously painted onto his body was not my own. I would wrap myself around him this night and drown out the distant cries of duty. I would let him take me in whichever way, place and position that he wanted and when I had sucked him dry of every last drop of passion that he had to offer- I would kill him.