#I'm sorry but frank is serving it in the first picture

[callmeblake]

L.S. Dunes for Alternative Press in 2022

Photo Credit: Ryan Bakerink

[headfullofpresley]

Good Boy

Pairing: Elvis Presley x reader

Word count: 8,6K

Warning(s): sub!Elvis, soft dom!reader, army!Elvis, SMUT obv; handjob (m. receiving), edging/orgasm control, begging, praise kink, strong language, alcohol consumption, smoking.

Requested: No, but pls send in requests for sub!Elvis ;)

Summary: While on military leave, Elvis discovers a whole new side of himself with the help of a pretty little showgirl in Paris.

Author’s note: readers’ performance and outfit was based on this video! I just suck at describing it, so if you want the visual, there ya go. also, i am officially dead after writing this bc GODDAMN. also, i suggest listening to this song while reading this ;););). enjoy luvs!

Translations for French words used in this:

mon chéri/chéri - my dear/sweetheart/etc.

bébé - baby

salut, mon amour - hi/hello, my love

mon ange - my angel

magnifique - magnificent

mon trésor - my treasure

masterlist

‘‘You've been a bad bad boy, I'm gonna take my time, so enjoy. There's no need to feel no shame; relax and sip upon my champagne.

Oh baby for all it's worth, I swear I'll be the first to blow your mind. I'll give you some oh-la-la; voulez vous coucher avec moi?

I got you breaking into a sweat; got you hot, bothered, and wet, you nasty boy.’’

To many, Paris was known for being the leader in the world when it came to fashion and art, authentic little bakeries that baked fresh bread and pastries at the crack of dawn to wake up the people in the neighborhoods with the mouth watering smell, the fierce people that could have one shaking with just a single glare. The city was classy and elegant, but as soon as the sun would go down, Paris would turn into the bustling place men and women from far away would come for. One could even say Paris was the cherry on top of the cake that was Europe.  

Elvis on the other hand did not give a damn for what the French city was known for. He had been serving time in the army for a year now and he couldn’t wait to get out of Germany and spend his week off in another country that was waiting for him to be explored. Or in other words: he couldn’t wait to let loose and attend some parties, curious to know what the French ladies were like. Even though he had girls lining up for him and fighting for his attention back in Germany, he hadn’t gotten any lately and he was feeling a little… touch starved.

‘‘I’m sorry, gentlemen. We’re completely full tonight,’’ the girl sitting at the ticket booth in front of the well-known Moulin Rouge club told the two men in front of her. Frank looked at her as he pointed at Elvis, who could already guess where this was going and swatted his hand away.

‘‘Do you know who this is?’’ He asked her in utter disbelief, nearly scoffing in the poor girls’ face and Elvis smacked his arm, shoving him aside as he stepped forward, giving the girl an apologetic smile. ‘‘I’m so sorry about him. Enjoy your night, darlin’,’’ he told her and she just nodded, not seeming to be bothered by Frank’s behaviour at all, nor the fact that he was Elvis Presley.

Elvis grabbed his friends’ arm and pulled him away from the club, rolling his eyes as Frank pulled his arm free, letting out a laugh. ‘‘What are we gon’ do now, E? It’s 2 in the morning and every goddamn place in Paris is full,’’ Frank exclaimed in slight frustration, spreading his arms. They had only arrived in Paris this morning but hadn’t had much time to do anything since Elvis would be followed around pretty much every day. He didn’t mind it all that much─giving the people the attention they wanted from him, posing for pictures and so on, but both men were looking forward to their first night out in the city. After all, everything is better when the sun goes down, right?

‘‘Let’s just walk and look for a place that’s not full,’’ Elvis sighed, lighting a cigarette as he strided forward. Frank rolled his eyes up to the sky, but before he could follow his friend, the both of them halted their movements as soon as a voice spoke up.

‘‘You’re going the wrong way,’’ a woman leaning against the wall next to a record store told them casually, smoke of her cigarette circling up as she held it in between her fingers elegantly. A small grin tugged at the corner of her red lips, golden brown eyes carrying a mischievous sparkle. The red trench coat she wore hugged all her curves and matched her lips to a perfection, her thick curls framing her face as her bronzed complexion glistened in the flickering neon lights coming from the Moulin Rouge club a few steps back. The two men were taken back for a second, staring at the woman with slightly dropped jaws. Paris was full of beautiful people, but there was something about the woman in front of them. Unconsciously, they were drawn to her and had taken a few steps closer. She laughed softly, taking a small puff from her cigarette, leaving a red stain behind on the bud.

‘‘E-Excuse me?’’ Frank stuttered, snapping out of his little trance as he tried his best to sound calm and collected. She blew out some smoke from the corner of her mouth and threw her cigarette onto the pavement, stepping on it with the pointy heel of her pump. ‘‘I said, you’re going the wrong way. If you want what you’re getting at the Moulin Rouge, and well.. maybe more, you will not find it there,’’ she hummed mysteriously with a soft French accent on her tongue, pointing at the direction they were headed in, as if they knew what kind of places there were. She knew it were all just small jazz bars that were closing up any time now and restaurants that had closed their doors hours ago.

‘‘Well, do you know a place we can go to then?’’ Elvis asked, flashing her a friendly smile as his cigarette hung in between his fingertips loosely, his brain completely forgetting it was there in the first place. ‘‘It’s our first night in Paris and we just wanna have a drink, nothing too crazy,’’

‘‘Soldiers?’’ The woman asked as she pushed herself off of the wall, standing up straight while tightening the strings on her coat, the fabric outlining her body even more. Both Frank and Elvis tried hard to keep their eyes on her face and to not let their eyes wander down to have a peek at said curves and bare legs. ‘‘Yes, ma’am,’’ Elvis said politely as Frank nodded and she let out a laugh, signing for them to come along as she started walking in the other direction. ‘‘Call me Daisy, chéri,’’ she grinned, her heels clicking against the pavement as she didn’t even look back to see if they would follow her. She knew they would─they always did.

Elvis and Frank exchanged a quick look before Frank quickly tugged his friend along, jogging after Daisy. She kept quiet the entire walk to where ever she was taking them, smiling softly as she could hear them whispering to each other now and then. At one point, Frank even voiced out his worries to Elvis about how he was hoping they wouldn’t die in Paris and she couldn’t stop herself from giggling softly. They certainly were not going to die, but she was positive that they would leave this city as new men.

A bubble of nerves mixed with excitement settled into Elvis’ stomach as Daisy turned into a dark alley, the only light that lit up the dark street being a twinkling midnight blue neon sign in the form of a martini glass. Despite the place not even seeming to have a name, there was a broad shouldered man standing by the door, letting the people that were queueing outside in, if he redeemed them worthy to be allowed in that was. It seemed like anyone that had more than just a few drinks were turned down, as well as people that could not prove they were over eighteen. Daisy passed by the line of people and greeted the man at the door, who pressed a kiss on her cheek and opened the black velvet robe, opening the big equally black door. Frank gave Elvis an exciting squeeze in his arm as he heard the music and chattering coming from inside, tugging Elvis along into the club Daisy brought them to.

It was like they were thrown into a completely different world. They were aware of what a burlesque club was and this seemed an awful lot like it, but at the same time, it felt so different. There was a big mahogany bar near the entrance, large mirrors on the wall behind it giving the perfect view of the stage that was located on the other side of the establishment. Bottles of any kind of liquor were lined up against the mirrors and Elvis couldn’t even read some of the labels as they were displayed in all kinds of languages he unfortunately did not speak. The place was nearly filled to the brim with people, sitting at tables that had the perfect view of the girls dancing on the stage, or dancing in any empty spot they could find. French franc’s and American dollars were flying through the air coming from the people closest to the stage, a group of Dutch soldiers spending all their last money on the dancing girls, sticking papers in their outfits or mouths when they allowed it. All the men, and even some women, were watching the girls on stage with hungry eyes and you wouldn’t have to think twice to guess what they were thinking about─despite that, everyone kept their hands to themselves and were very respectful. A strange place, but oh so exciting.

‘‘What is this place?’’ Frank yelled in excitement as he looked at Daisy when she brought Elvis and him over to the bar, waving over the bartender. ‘‘Hmm.. One would say it’s a burlesque club, one would say a gentlemen’s club, but I don’t like that name. The ladies love it too,’’ she hummed mysteriously, winking at Frank as she nodded to some girls at a table, cheering on one of the club girls that was making a show of pretending to remove her stockings, teasing them by rolling them right back up. Elvis laughed excitedly, flashing a grateful smile at Daisy as she handed him a drink. ‘‘It can be whatever you want it to be, that’s fun of this whole place,’’ she smiled brightly, poking both his and Frank’s noses, before she walked off and disappeared behind a curtain near the stage, leaving them behind to enjoy the show.

‘‘Salut, mon amour,’’ you hummed happily as you noticed Daisy walking into your shared dressing room. She walked over to where you were sitting in front of your vanity, hugging you from behind─you squeezed her hands and laughed as you hugged her back, your eyes following her in the mirror as she took off her coat, revealing the shiny black velvet bodysuit she wore that made her legs look like they went on for days, her breasts perfectly squished together. ‘‘Have you been saving poor lost souls from Moulin Rouge and Le Lido again?’’ you grinned knowingly at her, leaning forward to your mirror to continue applying your lipstick. Daisy laughed and sat down in front of her own mirror, leaning her arm on the back of her chair as she grinned at you.

‘‘Well ofcourse, my darlin’. We need to make money too, right?’’

You laughed a little at her reply, but nodded nonetheless. She was definitely right─with the Moulin Rouge and Le Lido being the most famous burlesque clubs in the city, the small mystery club you worked at had to work extra hard to keep up at with the scene. Knowledge of this place got out through word of mouth and although business seemed to be popping, the owner Théodore was up to his neck in debts. He refused to give up his passion for the business and close the club, and you and Daisy used to love this place just as much but you were both ready for bigger and better things. You had big dreams but in order to let them come true, you needed money.

‘‘I can’t wait until we get out of Paris,’’ you sighed deeply as you popped your lips in the mirror, puckering them to make sure you didn’t miss a spot before you put your make-up down. A wide grin spread across Daisy’s face and you could practically feel excitement oozing out of her, making you look at her with a raised eyebrow. ‘‘There might be a chance that we’ll get out of here sooner than expected,’’ Daisy said as she leaned a little closer to you, eyes twinkling in the lights of your vanity. ‘‘Elvis Presley is one of the lost souls I’ve saved tonight,’’ she whispered, as if you two weren’t the only ones in the room. You widened your eyes upon hearing that name, looking at her as if she had grown two heads.

‘‘E-Elvis.. Elvis Presley?’’ You repeated in disbelief, grabbing onto her hands as she nodded, her hair bouncing wildly with her movements. You both were very aware of who the man was, as did the rest of the world, but the fact that he was American excited you even more. Sure, there were American soldiers in here pretty much every night, but back at home they were nobodies. Elvis Presley was someone─someone with status, money, the power to get you out of this hell hole of a city. Yeah, Paris wasn’t all they cranked up to be. ‘‘Y/N, you have to do your solo tonight. The one with the little white corset and the feather skirt,’’ Daisy said with a gasp, and you could almost see a light bulb lighting up above her head. She let go of your hands and walked to the racks of clothing, looking through the fabrics for a little bit until she pulled out the outfit she had in mind─the fabric of the breasts were decorated with small diamonds as well as the seams and the panties you wore with it. The feather like skirt that you’d wrap around your waist to give the outfit a bit of a pop was a shade of very light pink. You had spend months saving up for this outfit and you loved performing in it because it sparkled so prettily in the lights. It was definitely one of your most successful outfits as well, as it always got you the most tips.

‘‘Only if you do your solo in the pearl outfit,’’ you grinned teasingly at her, wiggling your eyebrows─your best friend had a solo she’d do wearing only pearls wrapped around her body, making it seem like it was an outfit. Showed a lot of skin, but not the skin people were so desperate to see. You loved seeing her in it and you knew that Elvis and who ever he brought would too. ‘‘Bébé, it’s like you’re reading my mind,’’ she laughed as she handed you your outfit and grabbed her own. Since your job was basically dancing for money and dressing up, you often wore wigs─this time you decided on a white blonde bob cut with bangs, bringing out the Parisian in you. It was fun to play someone different from who you were in your day to day life, and you always greatly indulged in your roles, making the people in the audience really believe in the show you were putting on.

After you put on your equally as shiny and diamond covered pumps, you and Daisy walked out of the dressing room and as the lights in the club dimmed a little, Daisy quickly informed the band which song she wanted to do tonight before she took her position on the piano. You waited behind the curtains as the lights went back up, music playing as two of your other co-workers revealed Daisy that was laying on the piano from behind the big white feathers they held in front of her. She effortlessly flirted with the piano man as part of her show as she sang her little heart out. You and Daisy were probably the only girls at the club that sang and it got people coming back every time, so Théodore asked you to keep doing it. A lot of girls that worked at the club did not take a great liking to you and your best friend, because you made the most money out of all girls, but it wouldn’t be long until you and Daisy would walk out of here with a rockstar on your arm and follow him to America to make it big. After all, there was no way that you were going to leave your best friend behind in Paris.

As Daisy was wrapping every single person in the audience around her pretty little finger, your eyes scanned the crowd for the one and only Elvis Presley your best friend promised you she had somehow gotten here. When your eyes found him sitting at the bar, sipping his drink and shoulders shaking a little to the music, the wind was almost knocked right out of your lungs. You already knew he was handsome from pictures you had seen, but good Lord, he was absolutely gorgeous. Your fingers clenched around the stage curtain you were hiding behind, biting your lip as your mind was already making up all kinds of stories that included having him in very unholy positions. Rockstar or not, soldiers were always so easy to get on their knees, doing whatever you wanted them to do. Just like his friend, he was dressed up in a suit, making you giggle softly. A dress code was often required at the Moulin Rouge and other places, but in here, everyone just wore whatever they wanted. As long as their pockets were full, Théodore didn’t care what anyone looked like.

When Daisy’s solo came to an end, Elvis and his friend applauded happily as did the rest of the crowd. People at the front were throwing money her way, the locals chanting her name over and over again as they wanted more and more. They always did. You smiled brightly as you let go of the curtain and clapped your hands in excitement as Daisy ran back to you, hands filled with paper. ‘‘You were magnifique as always, mon trésor!’’ you exclaimed theatrically, though you meant every word of it. As all of her performances, this one had been amazing and you could understood why Théodore did not want to let the both of you go. It would have him completely broke by the end of the week, maybe even the middle of it.

‘‘I’ll keep his friend busy, go get him, mon ange,’’ Daisy laughed excitedly, nodding her head to the bar as she air-kissed your cheek, making sure not to get lipstick on your face. You giggled and nodded, tiptoeing on the stage as the lights dimmed once more, informing the band of your choice of music. As you sat yourself on the velvet cushioned bench on the stage, you felt nervous for the first time because you knew that Elvis Presley’s eyes would be on you in only a few seconds. You inhaled some air, making sure to relax every muscle in your body as you gave the guy in charge of the lights a nod, making him light up the club a bit more. As your song started with a soft and gentle piano tune and you started singing, people at the front row were already cheering and losing their minds just like they had with Daisy. You noticed some of the other girls that had been on the stage earlier who were now waitressing rolling their eyes and you had to bite your tongue not to laugh. Both you and Daisy always thrived even more because of their jealousy. The song soon picked up its beat, adding drums and saxophone to your performance and you put on the greatest show of your life, your body moving easily to the rhythm of the music. You made sure to give the people at the front row a flirty smile as you took some money from them, sliding the bills into your corset.

Nearing the end of your song, you took a few steps down the small stairs at the front of the stage and the Dutch soldiers were quick to lift you off of the steps by holding your arms, placing you down on the floor. You danced your way through the crowd, interacting with people and taking their money as you made your way to the bar. You shot a wink at Daisy who was sitting next to Elvis’ friend, your best friend supportively dancing to the music. You sang as you looked at Elvis, grinning playfully as you reached your hand out to him. He widened his eyes a little, taking the hint as got up from his seat and lifted you up by the waist instead, sitting you down on top of the bar. You gasped theatrically as the band had their solo, sliding yourself further up the bar to place your heels on it. Daisy had glued your little blonde wig down so much that you could probably keep it on the entire week, though it made it possible for you to throw your head back as you stretched your leg out, giving the people─and mostly Elvis─the view you wanted them to have. As you got on your knees and swirled your hair around before standing up straight, you kicked the cocktail shaker that bartender put down, making him catch it easily. You had done this so many times before, that all the bartenders were aware of every little performance trick you had up your sleeve. You seductively walked your way over the U-shaped bar, toward the mirrors and danced in front of it before you turned around and gave the bartender a knowing wink. Two of them held your hand as the third leaned over, letting you walk over his back to get to the other side of the bar and in front of Elvis again. You made sure not to dig your heels in too deep and smiled at him as he gave you a quick thumbs up. You finished your song as you sat down on the bar, turning Elvis around so he was facing the audience instead of you before you swung your legs over his shoulders, putting your hands up elegantly while shooting a big fat wink to the people as the song ended.

Elvis felt like he had been thrown in a fever dream. A very pleasurable fever dream, he had to admit. He had seen burlesque shows before in America and while they were exciting and fun to watch, it was nothing like this. The screams of the audience, the live singing, the way you had the crowd in the palm of your hand. Including him. It was all so thrilling and so risqué. As you lifted your legs off of his shoulders and thanked some people who gave you money, you took the drink the bartender handed you and looked at Elvis who had turned back to face you, flushed cheeks and wild electric blue eyes.

‘‘You.. You were amazing,’’ he breathed out, letting out a laugh as he reached out some money to your corset. As he slipped it behind the fabric and his fingertips touched the flesh of your breast, you could’ve sworn your entire body was set aflame. Now that you could take a good look at him from up close, you could definitely understand why so many girls would scream and cry upon the sight of him. He was strikingly beautiful and you were definitely planning on having some fun with him tonight, and the day after, and after, and after… You could get used to seeing his face every day of the rest of your life.

‘‘I know,’’ you smiled at him, taking a sip of your drink as you crossed your legs while still sitting on the bar. ‘‘I did not expect to see you here tonight, mr. Presley. Has Paris treated you well?’’ you hummed, making your voice sound extra flirty, accent extra thick. Americans loved girls with accents.

‘‘It’s only my first night, honey. But I like it very much,’’ he said, his Southern drawl sounding very interesting and very sexy to your ears. He gave you a knowing smile, as he obviously meant you as his reasoning for liking Paris. You smiled brightly and slipped your hand down the collar of his blazer, fixing it a little. Your eyes sneakily met those of Daisy and you two exchanged a wink as she clinked her glass against Frank’s, giggling at something he whispered in her ear. ‘‘What’s your name, darlin’?’’ Elvis asked, making you look at him again with a slight head tilt, squinting your eyes teasingly as if you were contemplating on whether you were going to give him your real name or not. But his eyes looked so hopeful and so cute, so you figured having him know your real name wouldn’t be so bad. After all, you were planning on having this man take you out of Europe─a girl’s gotta play her cards right.

‘‘It’s Y/N, mon chéri,’’ you smiled, reaching your hand out to him. He took it, grinning as he kissed your knuckles, though he didn’t let go of your hand. Instead, he intertwined your fingers together and casually held onto your hand as his other hand landed on your thigh, smirk tugging at his lips. ‘‘A pretty name for a pretty girl,’’ he complimented, as if you hadn’t heard that one a thousand times before. No matter where they came from, all soldiers were the same. Though when it came from him, it sent a tingle down your spine but you weren’t going to tell him that. It was true that you wanted him, but you were not planning on acting like one of his lovesick fans. You knew you already had him in the palm of your hand, even though he thought he was the one in charge here. You rolled your eyes slightly and laughed as you gently pushed him off, placing your drink down before you jumped off the bar.

‘‘I’m going to get changed, mr. Presley. When I come back, make sure you finished your drink, okay?’’ you told him sweetly, leaving a lipstick stain behind as you kissed his cheek. As you passed by Daisy, you squeezed her arm softly and laughed as you quickly ran off to your dressing room. You put all your money away and took your performance outfit off, putting it away before you put on your own clothes again which you had worn when you came here─a tight fitted black dress which was probably a little shorter than what modest women wore nowadays, but you weren’t exactly a modest women. You were a showgirl, a free spirited one. Didn’t like to be part of the crowd, but would much rather stick out in one. You kept the wig on. Because one, it looked kinda cute and two, it would probably take you hours to get it off. You fixed your make-up a little, spraying some perfume around you before you grabbed your clutch and stepped into your pumps before you walked back to the bar and over to Daisy.

‘‘Let me know if that wig is sex proof,’’ she whispered teasingly at you and you threw your head back with a laugh, nodding at her as you hugged her. You gave Frank a quick wave before you shrugged your coat on and took Elvis’ hand, smiling at him.

‘‘Where are you taking me?’’ He laughed softly as you pulled him outside, taking him out of the alley and away from the club. You let go of his hand and hooked your arm through his instead, smiling innocently as you looked up at him. ‘‘My house,’’ you shrugged casually and even though Elvis was surprised, he tried his best not to show it. Guess he didn’t have to work as hard as he thought. ‘‘I have been working all night and I want some coffee. The club’s coffee is not very good,’’ you chuckled and he nodded, letting you take him to your place. The walk there was short, but enjoyable nonetheless. He told you a little bit about his hometown and his time in Germany, telling you how he both liked and disliked being enlisted into the army and you told him you were glad he had become a soldier, otherwise you probably would not have met him. As you arrived at your apartment and you opened the door, stepping inside, he grinned at you.

‘‘Didn’t even have to use one of those creative pickup lines, huh?’’

‘‘It’s only coffee, mr. Presley,’’ you rolled your eyes with a smile on your face. You obviously weren’t planning on having only coffee with the man and he damn well knew that too. ‘‘Elvis,’’ he said as he followed you into the open spaced kitchen of your small apartment, leaning against the counter as you flicked some lights on, taking your coat off. ‘‘Call me Elvis,’’ he smiled as you looked at him and he took your coat from you, hanging it up by the front door. You hummed with a nod, making some coffee for the both of you, despite it being in the middle of the night. To you, it was usual routine.

‘‘Do you often bring men back to your apartment?’’ He asked as he blew at the dark liquid in the cup you handed him, eyes boring into yours as a teasing grin lingered on his face. You chuckled softly, taking a sip of your coffee. ‘‘Only if they’re as cute as you,’’ you teased back, licking your lips as you put the steaming hot coffee down, taking a step closer to him. You grabbed onto his jacket, biting your lip as your eyes wandered down to his plumb lips. ‘‘There’s not a lot of those out there, so no, Elvis. Not often,’’ you grinned and he put his coffee down on the counter, snaking his arms around your waist, pressing you against him. You stood in between his long legs, hands moving up his shoulders to wrap your arms around his neck loosely.

‘‘You know somethin’?’’ he hummed, leaning in closer to you. You could feel his hot breath against your skin as the smell of his cologne entered your nostrils, making your heart jump with excitement. ‘‘When you were up there, on that stage.. I could barely keep my eyes off of you,’’

‘‘Barely? Do not lie to me, Elvis. You were undressing me with your eyes,’’ you stated boldly, the tip of your nose touching his as his lips ghosted over yours. He laughed softly as he nodded, softly pressing his lips against yours. He was gentle and sweet and as he deepened the kiss, you let him take the lead for a little bit. You let him believe he was the dominant one in the room, you let him fantasize about how you’d be screaming his name, but boy… was he in for a surprise. You slipped your hands down and grabbed his hands, pulling away from the kiss as you smiled at him and took him to your bedroom, pecking his lips as you gently pushed him to sit down on your bed. You turned on the light on your bedside table, holding back a giggle as he eagerly took off his blazer, throwing it to the foot of the bed. He kicked off his shoes as he pushed himself further up the bed, leaning against your pillow while he watched you intensely as you pulled up your dress a little before you straddled his waist. You leaned down to capture his lips into a heated kiss as your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, undoing them as you kissed your way down his neck and chest, pushing his shirt open. He gasped softly as he looked down at you when you unbuckled his belt, pulling it out of the loops of his pants. He watched with confused but curious eyes as you threw the belt on the bed next to you and reached for his blazer, smiling at him. You figured you’d go a little easy on him, leaving the belt for another time.

‘‘I’d take that off if I were you,’’ you told him, nodding to the shirt he was still wearing. He had no idea what you were up to and while part of him wanted to question you on it, he kept his mouth shut and did exactly as he was told to do when he saw that cute grin on your face and mischievous twinkle in your eye. Taking the shirt off, he let it fall to the floor next to your bed before leaning back. You hummed softly and grabbed his hands, holding them above his head and against the metal bars of your bed. When you moved your body up a bit to hover above his chest, wrapping the sleeves of his blazer around his wrists and your bed, he widened his eyes a little. ‘‘W-What are you d-doing?’’ he stuttered out in a panic, looking at you when you moved down again after you had made sure he was firmly tied up. His brain and body were fighting each other─while he was in slight panic and confusion, maybe he was even a little scared, the bulge that was formed in his pants told a whole ‘nother story. You bit your lip as you giggled softly, hands pulling the zipper of his pants down.

‘‘If you want me to stop, all you need to do is say so, Elvis,’’ you hummed, fluttering your eyelashes at him innocently. When you pulled his pants down a little and traced your fingertips along the aforementioned bulge over the fabric of his boxershorts, he groaned softly, his toes curling involuntarily. Maybe the best thing to do here was to think with the rational side of his brain. He didn’t even know you and here he was, tied up in your bed after not even having been in your apartment for fifteen minutes. Instead, he let go of the reigns and let his body take over, muscles in his lower abdomen tightening with anticipation as you took his pants completely off, pulling them off of his ankles. You smiled at him as you shot him a quick wink, settling yourself on your knees in his spread out legs. He felt exposed under your intense gaze and a blush crept onto his cheeks as you very obviously looked at the small stain that had formed in the fabric of his underwear because he was leaking already. In his defense, it had been probably over a year since he had sex with anyone and while he wouldn’t admit it, he was desperate. Desperate to be touched, to be held, to be loved. Even if it was done by a stranger for just one night somewhere in the dead of the night in Paris.

You moved your hands up his thighs, feeling how tense he was made you smile. You were sure nobody ever has had Elvis in this kind of position and you kind of felt honored to be the first one. Usually, you wouldn’t be so bold with first-timers. You at least gave them some kind of warning first, tell them what you were into, the kind of role you liked in the bedroom. But God, it was like you could barely contain yourself when it came to him. Tough, dominant exterior… and you couldn’t wait to crack it. To break him.

When your hands disappeared into the legs of his boxershorts and your hand wrapped around his cock, he gasped as his fingers grasped onto the fabric of the blazer he was tied up with. You squeezed him in your palm softly as your hand moved up, fingertips caressing the head of his cock to spread some of the slick of his precum around. His eyes fluttered shut as you started jerking him off very slowly and softly, though the squeeze of your hand was firm. As you looked up at him and saw how his face was silently contorted in pleasure, you grinned devilishly to yourself and stopped your movements, pulling your hand out of his underwear.

‘‘I can always stop if you want me to,’’ you spoke casually and his eyes shot open, widening as he looked at you. He inhaled some air, clearing his throat as he shook his head, heat rushing to his face. ‘‘N-No.. P-Please.. Don’t stop,’’ he whispered, bucking his hips up a little and you just loved the desperation that was lingering on the back of his tongue. You could see how much it took for him to even say that, but you were sure you could have him begging before the sun came up. You flashed him a sweet smile, hooking your fingertips behind the hem of his boxershorts as you pulled them down without warning. Excitement bubbled in Elvis’ stomach as you took them all the way off and threw them behind you, moving yourself to sit on your ass in between his slightly spread legs, your dress riding up─when you put your legs over his thighs, pretty much trapping him on your bed, he had the perfect view of your lace panties. He goddamn nearly lost his mind and you hadn’t even done anything.

‘‘Have you ever been edged, Elvis?’’ You questioned sweetly as your nails caressed up his thighs, making goosebumps cover every inch of his skin. He inhaled a shaky breath as your hands creeped closer to his cock and no matter how much he anticipated the feeling of your hand wrapping back around him, the feeling never came. His eyes met yours as he shook his head, fingertips releasing around his blazer, gently grabbing onto the bars of your bed. ‘‘No.. What’s that?’’ He asked, the question making him feel inexperienced, as if he was about to have his virginity taken away. He hated that feeling, but when you gave him a sweet smile, he almost melted. He had no idea what it was about you that had this kind of effect on him, but he was excited to see what you had in store for him. Nervous too, but good nervous.

‘‘Hmm.. I think it’s better if you go in blindly to experience it. Do you trust me?’’ You asked him, your hands squeezing his thighs a little and he bit his lip, staring at you for a few seconds. He was trying to crack his brain as to what it could be what you were about to do, but he was so turned on and so desperate, that he nodded before he could even stop himself. Weirdly enough, he did trust you to some point. You had him tied up in your bed already and he was still alive─what could go wrong?

He hated himself for agreeing to this. He hated himself, he hated himself, he hated himself. Never ever in his life could he have predicted that he would be in a situation like this. A French showgirl jerking him off to the point of his orgasm nearing, but every time he was about to fall over the edge, you stopped your movements and pulled away your hands, making whine as he grabbed onto his blazer and the metal bars harder, chest heaving as he pushed his head back in the pillow. You were only on the third round and while you had given him a safe word, he hadn’t used it yet. He couldn’t, not when you’d go back and start all over again, making his body melt back into the bed and his brain turn into cotton.

You were smiling devilishly to yourself, arousal growing between your own thighs every time he whimpered and moaned, his toes curling. The head of his cock was red and angry, desperate for relief but you weren’t giving it to him. Closing your fingertips around the tip to mimick the feeling of him being inside of you, your movements were quick and relentless, your other hand massaging his balls skilfully. He lifted his head from the pillow, looking down at you as he breathed heavily through his teeth, jaw clenched. He tried to keep his head up to look at what you were doing, but it was like he no longer had control over his body and he couldn’t stop his head from falling back down. You had pressed your thighs against his, preventing him from closing his legs or moving them. He was writhing in the sheets, hands tugging at the blazer as he was so desperate to touch you, kiss you, fuck you. But you having your way with him was such a sinful pleasure and he didn’t wanted it to stop.

‘‘You’re doing so well, baby,’’ you hummed, praising him as he was moaning pathetically. The compliment had his heart leaping in his chest and he immediately felt his orgasm nearing once more, rolling his head to the side to look down at you. ‘‘P-Please, Y/N,’’

‘‘Please what?’’ you smiled innocently at him, tilting your hand as you slowed down your movements, letting them come to a halt once more when you felt him twitching in your hand and saw the muscles in his lower abdomen tightening. The longer you went on with your little game, the faster his orgasm would peek around the corner. ‘‘I.. I.. I wanna c-cum,’’ he whined with a stutter, his hips thrusting forward as he pushed the back of his head back in the pillow, imagining having your hand around him again. You looked at him and laughed softly, squeezing his balls softly, stealing another soft moan from him. ‘‘So soon?’’

He let out a weak laugh at that, shaking his head side to side in the pillow before he slowly opened his eyes and looked down at you. God, he looked so gorgeous with those flushed cheeks and hint of desperation in those blue eyes. It made your own arousal grow more and more, made you wanna push him further to the edge. ‘‘Three more rounds,’’ you told him and he swallowed thickly, his throat so dry it felt like he was swallowing knives. You gently wrapped your hand around him, slipping it up once as you pouted cutely at him. He licked his lips, hips slowly moving in your hand as he nodded. ‘‘Only three,’’ he said, trying to sound stern, but you didn’t even give him time to recover as you picked up your pace a bit more, making him fall back on the pillow once more. He had no idea if he could even survive three more rounds, but he just couldn’t get himself to use the safe word.

On the fifth round, he didn’t even recognize himself anymore. The moans and whines that were rolling off his tongue sounded foreign to him, his brain completely empty as the only thing he could focus on were your hands that were wrapped around him, doing tricks he never experienced in his 24 years of life. At some points, it felt like he was standing next to the bed, having an out of body experience as he was looking at the whole thing go down but as you stopped your movements once more when he was about to slip into euphoria, he slipped right back into the softness of your mattress. A hot tear rolled down his cheek as he let out an animalistic groan, wrists rubbing painfully against the fabric of his blazer because he couldn’t keep them still.

‘‘Please, please… p-please,’’ he cried out, his hips having a mind of their own as they kept thrusting into nothingness. Your laugh sounded so cruel and hot at the same time, but he wasn’t in the right mind to comment on it. He looked down at you, his cock twitching uncontrollably and desperately. ‘‘Can I cum? Please, I c-can’t.. I can’t anymore,’’

‘‘One more, chéri,’’ you smiled sweetly at him as you kicked the heels you were still wearing off and onto the floor, crawling out from between his legs to sit next to him. You leaned down and kissed his lips. It was only a peck, but he needily tried to chase your lips. He wanted more, he needed more. Since it was his first time, you decided to at least go a little easy on him. You pulled the knot out of the blazer sleeves, letting him lower his arms. He was breathing heavily, rubbing his arms a little to let them get used to the change of position. You quickly got up from the bed and he watched with curious eyes, smiling softly as you came back with a glass of water. Kissing his cheek, you handed it to him and he drank half of it before he put it on the bedside table. You gently pushed him forwards a little, slipping behind him so he’d be in between your legs. The position was foreign to him and it made him feel even more submissive than before, but he loved it.

He was too far gone to even think about how dominant he usually was, and he leaned against you, immediately kissing you back when you planted your lips on his again. His hands were running up and down your legs, squeezing the flesh of your thighs under his palms a little as he moaned when you sucked on his bottom lip. ‘‘I know you can do this, baby,’’ you smiled at him, running your fingers through his hair before you cupped his cheek. He leaned into your touch, eyes fluttering shut as he finally had a few minutes to catch his breath before you’d start your delicious torture on him for the last time. ‘‘You’ve done so good all night, baby boy. Are you ready to cum now?’’ You grinned at him and his fingers dug into your skin at the praise and use of the pet name, making his cock twitch needily. He immediately nodded his head, moaning softly as you pecked his lips once more before reaching your hand down, once more wrapping around him.

With his hands free now, he had no idea what to do with them. You had started out slow this time and while he appreciated it, it didn’t take him long to get needy and beg for you to go faster. You gave him what he wanted, your hands moving at a fast and steady pace and with every squeeze of your palm and every swirl of your thumb around his tip, he was getting closer. He threw his head against your shoulder, letting go of your legs to grab onto the sheets for dear life. ‘‘Oh.. F-fuck, p-please, bunny!’’ he was moaning desperately, the pet name slipping out without thinking as he begged for relief and this time, you were more than willing to give it to him. You snaked your free hand around his neck, fingertips holding onto his jaw as you looked down at him with a seductive grin on your face and the only thing he could do was stare at you with wild eyes, moaning in desperation as his hips tried to follow the movements of your hand. ‘‘You’re so pretty, Elvis darling,’’ you hummed, nuzzling the tip of your nose against his and his eyes fluttered shut at the compliment, bringing him closer to the edge. You giggled softly and looked down at his cock in your hand, your cheek pressing softly against his as you still held his jaw in your fingertips. Your grip wasn’t firm, but he liked the position and did not even dare to move away.

‘‘You wanna cum, baby?’’ You questioned sweetly and his knuckles were turning white with how hard he was squeezing your sheets, moaning as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. ‘‘Y-Yes.. P-Please, Y/N.. P-please,’’ he begged, toes curling, arching his back a little. You grinned and turned your head, pressing a tiny kiss against the shell of his ear. ‘‘Cum, chéri. Let it all go, my pretty boy,’’ you whispered in his ear and it was all he needed to hear. He was writhing against you, shameless moans and whines rolling over his tongue as he came undone in your hand─he was squeezing his eyes shut, seeing white spots that contrasted against the dark of his closed eyelids harshly, hips stuttering uncontrollably as he just kept spilling and spilling. In his brain, it felt like ages until he had completely emptied out, with the help of your hand milking all of him. His chest was heaving fast as if he had just ran a marathon, head leaning against your shoulder as a soft whine escaped him when you removed your hand, a big smile on your face.

‘‘Oh my God,’’ he breathed out and you laughed softly, biting your lip as you admired his face from up close while he was catching his breath. He looked so fucked out and so blissful, small grin tugging at his lips. You couldn’t wait to do this and so much more a few more times during his week in Paris─Daisy was going to lose her mind when you’d tell her all about it.

‘‘I need a damn cigarette,’’ he mumbled as you had gotten up from the bed and walked into your bathroom to wash your hands and grab a dampened wash cloth. Walking back to him, you laughed softly and dug your hand into the pocket of his pants, throwing his pack of cigarettes at him. He rolled onto his back, lighting a cigarette as he stared up at the ceiling. ‘‘You’re amazing,’’ he blew out some smoke, his eyes meeting yours as you hovered over him, cleaning him up. You grinned, shooting him a wink. ‘‘I know, baby,’’

He bit his lip at the pet name, bringing himself up to lean on his elbows to get a better view of you. ‘‘Are you free tomorrow? Well… today,’’

You looked at him as you raised an eyebrow, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He held out his cigarette in front of your face and you took a small drag from it, smiling softly at him. ‘‘I can be if you want to,’’ you hummed as you blew out the smoke and he sat up more, crashing his lips onto yours. You giggled softly, slipping one arm around his neck as you kissed him back.

‘‘I want to,’’ he breathed as he pulled back from the kiss, his forehead against yours. ‘‘Will you wait? Less than a year, and I’ll get out of the army,’’

You pulled back and raised both your eyebrows now, looking at him in surprise. You honestly hadn’t expected him to ask you this─you weren’t planning on letting this be a one time thing, but you thought you would’ve worked harder to keep him around. After all, he was the man. Could get anyone he wanted, had girls lining up in every corner of the world. What you didn’t know, was that you completely turned his world upside down. You brought out a side in him that he wasn’t even aware of having, but he wanted to explore that side of himself more. Together with you. You thought he was joking, until he spoke up again.

‘‘Wanna be your pretty boy,’’ he whispered, teeth sinking into his lower lip as heat rushed to his face. You nearly jumped his bones in that exact moment, but you wouldn’t forgive yourself for killing the poor boy on his first night in Paris. You smiled brightly, leaning forward to peck his lips.

‘‘I’ll wait,’’ you told him, tilting your head as you watched him lean back a little. ‘‘But only if you behave yourself with those German girls,’’ you warned him, playfulness lacing your tongue. He caught the playful tone, but he immediately nodded his head and smiled sweetly at you. ‘‘I promise,’’

You looked down at his pinky he was sticking out to you and laughed softly, hooking your own around it as your eyes met his, grin on your face.

‘‘Good boy,’’

[dino-fart]

Hello. I believe I saw requests are open so I was hoping for a Frank Castle fic.

The idea is that the reader works at a coffee shop and Frank goes to visit while under the guise of Pete Castiglione. They form a bond and he visits frequently until one day he stops visiting due to getting scared. He doesn't want to risk getting close to the reader and risk the wrong people finding out about them and hurting the reader. He decides to stay away until one day while doing some work as the Punisher he sees the reader getting mugged. He saves them but they're pretty shaken up. Once the reader gets a look at Frank they immediately recognize him and just pull him into a hug crying their thanks

@logan-strong

Oooo I love it!

You owned a bakery/coffee shop called The Espresso Express, it was a shop near the subway station that grew popular over time. You were putting the icing on the pastries when your barista Isabel walked into the kitchen. "Hey boss, scary is here." Isabel said.

You chuckled softly, "He's not that scary. Grumpy maybe."

"Okay well, grumpy is here and I really don't want to serve him." Isabel said and you sighed.

You walked out of the kitchen to the cashier counter where 'scary' was. You got his usual black coffee in a to-go cup ready then walked over to the cash register. "You're scaring away my employees Castiglione." You teased.

The man chuckled a little and pulled out his wallet, "Guess I have that effect on everyone."

"What are you doing, Pete?"

"Paying for my coffee?" Pete raised a brow.

"You know it's on the house."

"I appreciate it but I don't think it's a good look if I'm the only one who gets free coffee." Pete smiled.

"You're not, the seniors get free coffee too."

"Ah, so I'm in with them, huh?"

"You sure are, old man." You grinned and he laughed softly.

Pete thanked you for the coffee and left the shop. "He totally likes you." Charlotte, the other barista teased.

"Pay attention to the register, Charlotte." You grinned at her.

"Tell him to bring you flowers and his number next time!" Betty, an elderly customer, said.

You shook your head and laughed as you made your way back to the kitchen.

Pete came by two more days before he just disappeared. You were disappointed you didn't see him but you just assumed he was busy.

It was Friday night and closing time. You let your employees leave early and finished cleaning up then headed to the subway station to get home. You stepped into the subway train as it pulled up and sat down to look at your phone. You were too distracted by your phone to notice the three men walking in and glancing at you. The doors closed the train began to move then one of the men moved to sit next to you.

"Sorry to bother you but I was wondering if you could help me with something. I'm looking for this man, have you seen him?" He pulled out his phone and showed you a picture of…Pete?! You looked up at the man, he didn't look like a police officer so you weren't going to answer. Another man moved to sit on the other side of you and you noticed he taking out a gun and setting it on his lap. "Perhaps you can answer us again otherwise you're gonna lose your life and that little coffee shop of yours. Have you seen him?" The same man asked you.

You took a deep breath and nodded, "O-Okay…I see him sometimes at the coffee shop but I haven't seen him in weeks." You hoped the half-lie would satisfy them. The lights of the subway cart you were in went out. You heard a loud bang and screamed at the top of your lungs. You fell off of your seat and crawled backward, you were sure you were shot.

The lights in the tunnel illuminated the graphic scene piece by piece to you. You saw a man in all black and a white skull on his chest beating the life out of the three men. You heard them screaming in pain and the final scene you saw was blood on the floor, on the seats, and on the man's face. You fainted at the sight. You opened your eyes slowly and the first thing you saw dimly lit ceiling.

"Am I…Dead?" You mumbled as you sat up on the couch.

"You almost were, good thing you just fainted and not actually shot." You heard a gruff voice and you turned to your right where the voice was coming from.

You saw the man sitting on the chair across from you and you gasped in surprise. "Pete?"

"It's Frank…" The man revealed.

"Frank Castle…You're-"

"Yeah." He cut you off. You moved to sit on the edge of the couch. "Look I'm sorry I got you in this mess, I thought maybe if I stayed away…You'd be safe." You felt tears form in your eyes and Frank noticed immediately. "It's okay…I've got you." He said softly and moved to sit next to you on the couch. You hugged him tightly and buried your face in his chest.

Frank returned the hug and promised himself he would keep you safe.

Tagging:@deepbatched, @vikingqueen28, @leonkennedyslefthand, @stewardofningishzida, @icytrickster17, @onlinecemetery, @marki-moo0, @absolute-not-original, @creamecafe, @scrubb, @nightingal3-tales, @alliethedaydreamer, @strangesthirdeye, @alexa-33, @zombiedixon89, @sunnsettee, @deliciousfestsalad, @kiaradaniell, @freyafriggafrey, @criticalroleobssedperson, @avengersfan25, @lunamoonbby, @androgynouspersonapricotfan, @foxcantswim, @namorkawaiiwife, @starkiller-queen, @kyuupidwrites, @luciamajer, @renatas10, @ayamenimthiriel, @gaiagurl05, @dipsylou, @pinkthick, @hansai, @andywinter16, @iambored24601, @3-cheese-tortellini, @cumbrbatchbenedict, @ironstrange1991, @aribas-stuff, @rianumochi, @vibaracal, @lostpirateinwonderland

[jjkeverlast]

OK, I've done the research and consulted the council. Here are my findings.

I'm giving you a range because I cannot possibly choose and I'm grouping them by style because I have no sense of time rn.

In third place, we have blue and purple long hair. I'm not even a huuuuge enthusiast of the bright colours on him, but these hair colours just stuck in my brain for some reason. I think they complement his skin tone very nicely and bring out his beautiful golden tones in an unexpected way, even though I would say he's a neutral girly.

In second place, we have undercut JK with the long hair at the top. A classic, a beauty, a bit of both worlds. I have further thoughts on some ... practical options with this one that I will be keeping to myself🤐

Finally, in first place, we have the version of him permanently in my daydreams, short undercut JK!! The sharp sideburns, slight length at the top, clear view of the forehead (a thing I never thought I'd say before getting into kpop). The eyebrow piercing is adding points for sure. Yellow shirt look also should be a filter option on online dating - if you can pull that exact look, I want you.

Now, for some honourable mentions, I have to add @gimmethatagustd mint look (if mint JK and mint Yoongi showed up at my door, I would proceed to pass out)

The look from that run BTS episode when he's imitating Yoongi's dad for reasons...

And finally, this look specifically because this photo is my identity now. It's not just the hair on its own, it's how it works with the outfit and the pose (THE POSE). Very old school rocker with androgynous vibes, I love it.

That's the end of Lia's award show! Thank you everyone for coming, have a safe trip back, refreshments are available at the back.

HELLO???? THIS IS SUCH A FUCKING GOOD RESPONSE IM ACTUALLY SCREAMING. not only did you share your favorites but fucking ranking AND explaining too?? bye. lia i do not deserve you. you’re too much fun babe omf 😭😭

all right, let’s break it down together. i loved the length of his butter era hair cause i’m a sucker for long hair and sorry but that whole look had me on my knees. you’re so right about how it compliments him really well. idk he’s never had a haircut that has bugged me to be quite frank with you 😗

that undercut will always fucking hold me places i never thought a look would be able to. legit had me screaming when i saw these the first time sksjsjsjs and yes no babe you don’t need to finish that sentence, i know exactly what you mean. 🤭🤭

no cause short undercut jungkook with that eyebrow piercing was just so effortlessly hot which makes this whole look just… fucking mindblowing to me. i feeeeel you.

good god those honorable mentions are fucking gold. mint koo will always top it to me as well, something about that undercut with the mint hair? YUMMMMMM. and during ptd fuuuck meeeee 😩😩 also that look was so good idk that shirt on him? bye.

of course we cannot forget the most GENDER picture of our jungkookie who’s not only serving cunt for a whole ass century, but is androgynous as hell and showcasing it so well i passed out seeing it when it dropped. remains iconic as fucking always.

thank you for serving us with pictures for each era. you’re a queen for that baby.

THANK YOU FOR LETTING US PARTICIPATE IN LIA’S AWARD SHOW AHHHH SO MUCH FUNNN 😭😭🩷🩷

[tell me what’s your favorite jungkook era ;)]

[nerdyogre]

So I just finished reading the 2022 run of The Punisher. And to say that I have some Big Thoughts about the whole thing is an understatement. Spoilers will be under the cut and I really want to hear what people think. I may get some stuff wrong then oh well.

This run of 12 issues involves Frank being involved with The Hand, a group of ninjas that serve The Beast, a god of murder (god in lower case because this is a physical entity with power over a domain rather than some omnipotent omnipresent creator- I realise that my Catholic upbringing puts a bias on that, and I'm sorry, but anyway).

Spoilers below and I'm going to be jumping all over the run as my brain runs through it so there is no safe spot to get off once you click that Keep Reading button.

While you probably might be thinking this run was a response to the conservatives using the Punisher skull as an icon to promote their everything, as a media it uses that real-world connection in a goddamn impressive way - and I consider myself kind of a basic bitch when it comes to media.

So why did the morally inflexible Punisher work with the murder ninja cult The Hand?

They brought his wife back from the dead. They tried to do it with his kids.

What did the Hand get out of this?

They wanted Frank to become the avatar of The Beast. It would have turned him into a vessel for The Beast. There were five levels or bestowments. Frank gets four of them, and manages to do more damage to criminals in a single day worldwide than he had ever done before by a huge margin. One of his moderate works is a full page picture of a megayacht sinking into the ocean, on fire, sharks swarming to feast on a bunch of super rich criminals, while he WALKS ON WATER away from the situation.

This would have basically been the end of the world had he gone through with it the whole way, most likely, judging by the panicked intervention of the entire Avengers (Cap, Widow, Strange, Wolverine, Moon Knight).

"What do we do about The Punisher?"

This is a line stated by Strange, and it sits at a perfect junction of both the real world effect of Punisher and his effect in universe.

In the end, the resurrected Maria Castle finds out about what Frank has done in the names of their children - and how many times they tried to bring back the children. There's only a faint glimpse of one, before Frank puts them out of their misery, but judging by how many tombstones there were, they gave it a lot of tries. Think about the Ripley clones in Alien Resurrection. I don't want to talk about it any more.

She shoots him, which almost kills him because Murder Artifact Turned Into Bullets, which he had previously used to kill Ares, the God of War - he's a secondary antagonist, if you can believe that.

This is a Frank Castle story, where we look at what setting a path to unending war does. There are a number of flashbacks to Frank's childhood, where the Hand had their eye on him for a long time. Then we develop more of the growing relationship with Maria, starting at high school, and continuing on until the day in the park.

The Beast, and by extension The Hand, had its hooks in him since he was 10 - his first kill. And throughout the run, you can see him being pulled in two directions - his love for Maria and his kids, and his love of War, or Murder, or Death.

The flashbacks show a tumultuous life. Maria gets pregnant as Frank joins the Marines. Frank finds it hard to return to civilian life. There are ups and downs, and it becomes clear, in Maria's words, that War was the one he was really loved.

There's some back and forth between Frank's path as the Punisher and his desire to keep hold of Maria, both in the past and in the present (highlighted by a much simpler art style in the past as compared to a precise and detailed present).

Maria was going to ask for a divorce when they got shot in the park. She couldn't deal with the man of two selves that Frank was. And as her Resurrection continued, she remembered more of what happened - at first only remembering the good times, but then finally discovering the bad, the loss of their children, and how she saw her relationship with Frank.

Frank chooses at the end, before Maria's revelation, to close out the War Journal for good. And as the Avengers bring him down, and they finally decide to put an end to Frank, after his wife gets to live again, free of the monster her husband had become, as the Avengers decide what deep, dark hole to stick him in, Frank chooses to, in a way, follow his now ex wife's wishes and die for good - he prays to the Beast to be gone from this plane of existence for good.

The epilogue has him starting a new journal. Weirdworld. Some place where war is happening. The last shot is of Frank leading four orphans across an alien land, scarred by war. One of them asks if where they're going will be safe - he affirms that. They want to know his name.

"Frank. Call me Frank."

He still has the armor with the horned skull on it - but he carries no weapons.

Frank Castle isn't the Punisher any more. Frank Castle has learned the ultimate futility of his first path and the eventual impossibility of his methods in society, even if said society has superhuman members.

It's a condemnation of a strict moral code of reactionary punishment. It shows that how we choose today to act is not always how we should choose tomorrow.

Other thoughts:

1. Ares runs a weapons smuggling operation, kills a gang who buys the guns but doesn't use them to do as much war as possible, looks like Frank when he takes his helmet off, and wears the old Punisher skull on his armor.

2. Nope ran out. Just love this run and am happy with its end in the same way I was with Breaking Bad - Frank's story is done.

[dbd-and-slashers-fics]

Little miss starch here, back at it again. Actually, it's my birthday in 5 days (27th), so I have a special little request (or a big one I'm sorry for wasting your time). Can I get Evan, Frank, Danny/Jed, Herman and Michael and my request is this: plan me a birthday (or not planning, bc ig these are all murderers lmao) - so like, what they get me, is there a cake and what we doin that day - and if you want I can retweet this with my reactions bc I will love whatever you write let's be real here

(OMG!! HAPPY WOMB ESCAPE YOU CRISPY ROOT!! WOMB EVICTION IS SUPER GREAT DUDE LIKE WOW FINALLY MOVED OUT AND ARE LIVING IN A SHARE WOMB CALLED MOTHER EARTH. Wild. And heck yeah! Let me see those reactions! I’m glad you enjoy the writing! I’m trying!)

Evan Macmillan (The Trapper):

- Evan is a very classy and traditional guy. Get ready for a birthday party with a few friends, both survivor and killer. It’s a little awkward but it’s okay because it is your day and everyone understands that if they fuck it up, he’ll fuck them up. He’s probably got a nice ass cake he may have asked Sally and Bubba to bake, and a little present corner. He’ll also dress nice and make you dress nice too. No matter your style, even if he has to make you a stylish hobo. You’re gonna be the belle of the ball.

He’ll take you out on the town afterwards when everyone leaves. A sweet little walk in the park and a few awkward but sweet words. He isn’t great at expressing his total adoration for you, but you’ll get it anyways. He’ll melt if you smooch his cheek.

Frank Morrison (The Legion):

- Frank is the opposite of classy. First off, he’d start your birthday off with no cake. You and the gang go out for milkshakes or slushees and you can buy as many snacks as you want. Y’all just chill together for a few hours playing games, talking shit, playing with make up or outfits. This is the one time the only time that Frank will let you put makeup on him. So make him look ridiculous. Draw dickbutt on him, get that sweet sweet revenge for the time he drew on your face. After that, you two are sneaking up to the attic for some alone time. You guys can spend that time however you want (Lenny face), but after everything he’ll be giving you an entire talk about how glad he is that he’s met you and how important you are to him.

Probably made you a hand carved necklace piece. Something you hold dear to heart that you can wear all the time to remember him by and cheer you up when you’re down.

Michael Myers (The Shape):

- Michael doesn’t really do birthdays. He’s sort of been trapped in an asylum and he doesn’t have great memories. Now, if you told him it was your birthday, he might do some asking around about it. Expect to come home to a shitload of his hidden Halloween candy and fun activities you guys can do, like painting, cartoons, and paper mache.

Also get ready for him to carry you around on his back. A lot. He may seem like he is annoyed or doesn’t care, but inside he is actually really content because he hasn’t had this much fun before! He also loves you so there is that-

Danny Johnson (The Ghostface):

- Ah yes, Danny Johnson, a charismatically smug bastard and king of romance. We all know this doodoo head is a dork and is actually great at birthdays. As much as he loves the spotlight and loves popularity, he’ll actually give you a small surprise. Aside from a present, which would most likely be something he thought you might like so he stole it, he takes you out into the fleet with his camera. Just when you think you’re lost, he’ll sneak into some old, overgrown, ruined building you didn’t even know was there. He’ll make you follow him, and you’ll end up in a small clearing by a running river, right next to a sort of waterfall dip into a lake. It’s a very soothing and charming spot.

He then makes you take poses or just takes pictures of you doing whatever while complimenting and flirting the whole time. You two will end up under a willow tree somewhere while he tells you cheesy jokes and pick up lines. It’s a really calm day and he starts opening up about stories and telling you everything he loves about you. It’s really sweet and all about you!

Herman Carter (The Doctor):

- Herman is a wild man, we all know this. You probably expect him to serve you a still beating heart starched to a potato battery as a birthday cake. Honestly, any other time he would, but a birthday is important. At least, for him. It’s very rare for him to find something he feels anything towards, and the fact that he loves you is enough for him to make the effort.

He has no cooking skills, so he buys you your favorite flavor cupcake from a supermarket or bakery. He might even buy some extra treats for the both of you later on. He has a little stash of alcohol and music. He, like Danny, isn’t going to make a big gathering, mostly because everyone is scared shitless of him and also the Institute isn’t that great a place for party’s, you know, because of most of the rooms being bathrooms and what not.

He’ll play music on his phonograph and dance with you, read to you, and just overall be pleasant. This will also be the first time he takes off his head gear. And holy fuck, this man is so handsome when his eyes aren’t threatening to leave his skull.

[honeytea8]

Virtue & Vice • Dio Brando/Reader

A/N: Discord prompt for the week was Masquerade AU, so I decided to write for Dio Brando, using @sammystep’s beautiful bedroom and mask renders as inspiration 😏 (seriously, they are amazing, so check them out at the end of the fic!!); Also written to be gender neutral, so please let me know if I messed up anywhere!

Word Count: 2.9K

Summary: With your estranged cousin in a town full of rumors and ghost stories, it’s rather obvious you’re in for an interesting weekend. Somehow, you catch the eye of an insatiable beast, and whether you manage to survive him is left completely up to you.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Subtle references to Stone Ocean, heavily implied sexual content, Dio monologuing lol

In every city you’ve visited, there was always talk, and by talk, you meant gossip. Grapevines grew from thin air, spreading until the town was entangled in a sickness you liked to call Hearsay. You had witnessed this far too many times in the past, the novelty having worn off a long time ago. But on occasion, you liked to lend an ear to the particularly interesting ones—stories that left you searching for that innocuous sliver of truth amidst fairy tale.

Most times, however, it was merely a drunk spewing his usual nonsense to any person willing to listen. You were rarely ever an audience to such. Still, nothing quite chilled your bones like the tale recounted by one of the strangest men you’ve ever met.

It had been late in the evening, but not too late that the barmaid was not still serving homemade pies and cold drinks to her patrons.

A man only a few years older than yourself was perched on a rickety wooden chair nearby; it gave a high-pitched squeak every time he shifted. He had been there upon your arrival and would likely be there after you were gone. His clothes were drenched in sweat, boots caked in mud. You noticed him observing you from under the brim of his ten-gallon hat, though the rest of his face remained hidden. The nearest available seat just so happened to be right by his own, you hesitated, but ultimately took it.

Your fingers were frozen like cubes of ice and you breathed on them in a fruitless attempt to help them thaw. The barmaid made her rounds and eventually came to you. Only then were you able to order something to warm you up, a simple cup of coffee would suffice. You sat silent and unassuming, content with minding your own business until a gruff voice reached out to you, almost as if his words grew an arm and gripped your shoulder.

“Yer face,” he muttered in your direction. “S’like someone I can trust.”

You blinked at him. The implications behind his words were not lost on you. In fact, it was something you heard quite often. For your own mother had delivered you into a cruel world, and was quick to brand you with a trademark that has followed you for as long as you could recall: an angel.

In return, people seemed to gravitate towards you—were always intrigued by you, listening and speaking to you, soothed by your very nature and presence. It was a gift, you supposed. And like any gift, you preferred to use it for good. Whether it be to share in another’s burdens, or to relieve them of it entirely.

“Is there something you would like to share?” you replied back.

He hummed, then took a long swig of his whiskey in preparation. “Yeah, somethin's kept me up fer days actually.”

“What has?”

“I used ‘ta butle for a lord here in this town—hmm, well ta be frank it was only for a lil’ while... was dismissed soon after.”

The man continued without giving any clear answer to your question, but you assumed a bit of patience would grant you the full story.

“I'm sorry about your job.” you said out of courtesy, but he waved you off.

“Don’t be. S’better this way.” he took another sip, draining the glass in one go and waved for another round. “You believe in heaven?”

“Heaven? Like… the place where good people go when they pass on...? I—I’m not too sure.”

“S’alright.” he smiled for the first time, wide lips stretching across his face handsomely. He looked rather boyish with his half dimple and cleft chin. His expression was almost endearing. You figured he might’ve been quite the charmer when sober. “Name’s Hol Horse, by the way.”

“Hol Horse, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

You introduced yourself as well, to which he tipped his hat in greeting. The whole exchange was rather odd, but you went along with it for the sake of your own budding curiosity.

Hol Horse cast a wary glance around the room. You too chanced a brief look, but not as thoroughly as your companion. Obviously, no one was listening. You smiled and silently encouraged him to surrender the burden laying heavy on his conscience.

Hol Horse gave you his story. Some parts he gave in detail—others he offered in threadbare comments, giving only the minimum for you to catch the gist. From what you could piece together, he had worked as a servant under a young lord in the countryside. It was a large estate left behind by a ‘Sir Joestar’ who had passed away many years ago due to illness. His only adopted son was left to inherit the fortune, along with several of the businesses in town. That was as far as Hol Horse knew, more surprisingly, he had never even laid eyes on his employer during his tenure. Any and every form of correspondence was made through the lord's right hand.

At one point, you were beginning to wonder what picture Hol Horse was trying to paint here. Why did any of this matter? Regardless, it was the earnest pull of his voice that kept you rooted to your seat. That, and the fact that he had seemed to grow even more...disturbed the longer he spoke. His brows were pinched while he thought, showing his great displeasure. You truly hoped, for his sake, that confessing whatever was killing him inside would finally put his heart at ease.

In a lowered tone, he revealed the true cause of his troubles. He had spotted a number of bloodied sheets being carted away from his lord’s sleeping quarters, men and women’s clothing torn to shreds and disposed of in an incinerator. Certain staff members with superhuman strengths and abilities. Phantoms, ghosts, demonic spirits. All culminated by the devastating amount of missing persons. These were some serious, and if you were honest, strange allegations.

“My apologies,” you interrupted, “but I’m not sure I follow.”

“I’m sayin’ that some crazy shit’s goin’ on in this town, and I wouldn’t feel too inclined ta stay if I were you.”

You pursed your lips, far too stunned for words.

“Heaven.” he uttered like a curse. There was a sudden quiver in his lips, that sent a chill racing down your spine. It wasn’t just about ‘heaven’. More specifically, Hol Horse was convinced there existed a way to call it forth.

The sheer ridiculousness of this statement seized your attention. The man was so obviously intoxicated, but spoke like these were irrefutable facts that he too struggled to come to terms with.

A heaven within the reach of mere mortals? Powers no man had any business wielding? It was absolutely ludicrous! But your gut, which had saved you countless times in the past, urged you to not cast this tale aside.

You wondered if this made you a fool.

.

.

.

You had only come to this town per invitation from a distant, older cousin. And while distant by blood, she was also distant to you in nearly every other aspect as well. You and your cousin, Gwess, scarcely saw one another due to a series of familial barriers. By all accounts, you should be wary of her, but she was also newly married now, and you supposed her only desire was to rekindle your long-neglected relationship.

Marriage, children, a home—it had a way of changing people. You were unsure if you could genuinely relate to her feelings, but you would not stop her from trying to rebuild something, even if that something had never truly existed in the first place.

For whatever reasons, your cousin had you set up in a hotel instead of her guest house. You didn’t take it personally, after all, it was her home to do with as she pleased. The hotel suite was lavish; far be it from you to complain.

Clean, white walls, with an intricate gold motif wallpaper, Persian carpeting, high thread-count sheets made from the whitest Egyptian cotton. At your bedside were red roses that added a bit of color and warmth to the room, and near the window was a mini-bar stocked with various alcoholic beverages should you choose to indulge.

Courtesy of Gwess, your outfit for the night’s festivities hung on the bathroom door, zipped up in a garment bag to keep it from either soiling or wrinkling. She had gifted it to you along with a mask for the masquerade ball, though, you felt a sudden trepidation bubbling in your stomach at what awaited you; like a premonition of something to come, it weighed on your chest, and you tried desperately to swallow it down.

Hol Horse’s words from the previous night continued to haunt you in broken fragments. He had warned you not to stick around but it wasn’t like you were staying much longer. Just one more night.

Still, you worried. With the sound of your heart thumping in your ears, you drew out the lace and chiffon clothing from the bag that had kept it hidden from you until now.

A feeling you could not explain washed over you at the sight of what Gwess brought for you to wear. It was white with wing-like patterns sewn down into the material just below the blades of your shoulders. You considered the meaning of this as you donned the outfit and fixed the mask over your face. Mockery perhaps? Who could say?

Gwess greeted you in the hotel lobby with open arms and a warm smile.

“Cousin!”

“Gwess.” You murmured with a nod and a small tilt of your lips. “You look well.”

She grinned, eyes crinkling, “Don’t I?” Gwess gave a twirl, showing off one of her newest purchases. A thinly strapped designer gown with silver embroideries and little birds stitched at the hem and sleeve. In her hands was an extravagant mask covered in jewels and... real life bird feathers. You assumed so, given the traces of blood still on them. Ever the beauty, your cousin was. Her husband, being a lawyer working under a prominent firm in town, made sure that his dearest Gwess wanted for nothing; inherently enabling her rather eccentric hobbies, like mutilating tiny animals and using their remains as accessories.

.

.

.

The venue was a large ballroom not too far from the hotel. It was beautifully decorated with crimson and gold ornaments and glittering chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The festivities were already in full swing. Peals of laughters, thundering music, flashing lights. It was increasingly overwhelming. The event was more of a bacchanal for the rich and wealthy, a hedonistic gathering for the town’s upper echelon. It was almost ceremonial.

To make matters worse, you lost sight of Gwess, or rather, she had ditched you for a group of familiar faces. So, you wandered about on your own. There were a startling amount of guests, it felt almost like eyes were on you at every moment. Bodies pushed on all sides of you as you struggled to make your way through to a less crowded area. The sick feeling in the pit of your stomach bred more fear and anxiety, until you felt the urge to vomit right then and there.

Escaping into the open balcony was your only form of solace, and perhaps you’d remain there for the rest of the evening. Though, how could you have known that in doing so, you would inevitably find yourself within the crosshairs of an apex predator.

By his third victim, Dio was beginning to think that none of his ‘esteemed’ guests had brought a worthy sacrifice. A sneer curled at his lips as he watched them from his seat above. They were like monkeys, dancing for his entertainment, but unfortunately, he was far from entertained. He lounged back in his seat with a deep sigh.

Dio Brando did not believe in chance or coincidence. He did not believe in a being beyond the proverbial curtain, pulling on strings and orchestrating the whims of humanity. But lately, he’d been feeling a bit of a premonition. Nothing alarming, just an inkling of something he couldn’t quite place. And even after speaking to Enrico at length—

Dio paused in his musing, having caught sight of something in his peripheral.

With purposed steps, he followed the instincts deep within him, a visceral tugging in his gut, until he was greeted with the sight of your back. Poised like a sharpened blade, clothed in white; you stood underneath the lantern’s glow, like an angel hand-delivered to his doorstep. Utterly enticing.

You turned, gazing over at him with a peculiar look in your eyes, like that of a cautious doe in the presence of a hunter. The mask you wore shielded the majority of your face, but you were not someone he recognized. The clothing you were wearing made him all the more interested in finding what lay beneath.

Even from this distance, he could see the light sheen of sweat on the back on your neck. The subtle quake in your shoulders was not hidden from him either, even the bob of your throat as you swallowed.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he finally asked.

You were not expecting the man to speak since he looked so dead set on staring at you. “I don’t mind at all.”

You shifted over a little, an unnecessary action, seeing as there was plenty of room for the both of you. The fresh air did well in calming you down. But the sudden appearance of this man and his wolfish gaze was putting you back on edge. In any other instance, his very aura would have sent you running for the hills, but for some reason, you couldn't even bring yourself to move.

“You aren't enjoying yourself,” he noted with a teasing smile. “Does that make me a terrible host?”

You fumbled for a minute, stuttering over your words while trying to find an appropriate answer that wouldn’t offend him too much.

“C-Certainly not. It’s, um, no fault of your own. These kinds of things never interested me in the first place.”

You tried to avoid looking him in the eye when you responded but that proved to be impossible. His eyes were such a beautiful shade of scarlet. You half-wondered if they even came in that color naturally. He licked his lips, and for a second you caught sight of a sharpened canine.

“One could say that I am looking for something. Why else would I throw such an affair?”

Curious, you angled yourself a bit closer to him.

“Do you believe in gravity, dear?” he brushed his knuckles against your cheek. “That might be the reason why I’ve found you. You feel it too, that innate pull that can’t be explained.” he drew you closer until you were chest to chest. “It’s why you can’t walk away even though you’re frightened. I think we were fated to meet each other here.”

A wind blew as he said those words, tussling his gold spun hair, as if nature itself were confirming his words.

“Don’t you believe in destiny? That our lives are fate’s ultimate composition; a song that plays from the moment we take our first breath until we breathe our last.”

He was standing so close, close enough that you could smell the hint of cinnamon in his cologne and... blood...on his breath. It was making you dizzy, but you were also surprised to find that you wanted him to kiss you. And once that thought was acknowledged, it blossomed into a heady desire that was slowly taking over your entire body. You wanted him, the monster behind the mask.

“What say you, dear? Are you still frightened by me?” he laughed. “Don’t be. You and I are the same.”

“I’m...not afraid.” you said and placed a hand on his chest. It pleased him to hear you say it, even if your body betrayed your words. He leaned forward with one arm wrapped around your waist and gave a long, languid lick to a stripe of your skin, your perspiration was no deterrent at all, in fact he rather enjoyed it. Being this close to you gave him a vision of depthless oceans behind his eyelids with the taste of saltwater on his tongue and algae under his feet.

It was cathartic.

Indeed there were cleaner ways to do this, but he liked the pulse of your jugular beneath his tongue. He let his fangs sink into the flesh of your neck, puncturing your skin all the way through. Your fingers gripped his clothes, but not out of pain. The immense pleasure washing over you felt unlike anything you could ever imagine. Puffs of your warm breath coasted against the shell of his ear. You were far past the point of return.

.

.

.

In the final act, you laid naked in your hotel bed underneath blood speckled sheets. Your neck was throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the pleasant soreness between your thighs.

Dio, the name of your new god, hovered over you bare as the day he was born with an arrogant smile on his lips. Your wrists were bound with the strips of cloth torn from your body. You couldn’t reach him but your gaze still roamed the hills and valleys of his muscled chest in an act of worship and devotion.

An angel, they had called you. But what was angel without a fall from grace? It seemed in order to know virtue, one must first acquaint themselves with vice.

[l1ana]

Dating Peter Parker while being Eddies' younger sister would include...

Dedicated to @gaynessnyoom for giving me this idea tysm bb

———

You had moved in with Eddie, claiming that you needed a place to crash at for some time

Which was odd since you were in college

Whatever, Eddie loved you with his entire being. Obviously, he let you in without hesitation

To be quite frank, he was getting tired of being alone accompanied with a blood hungy parasite every day

You staying at his place clearly made days much more brighter

You both loved exchanging stories about one another during your time apart and laughed it up

When Venom came into the picture, things didn't really change much besides you and him having constant arguments on which sort of sweets were better

Venom made an oath at the moment he saw you to protect you from whatever harm may come your way with the same amount of force that he protects Eddie with

They both loved you like a daughter — In spite of Eddie being your older brother

Your pictures of different monuments and various attractions served as good fuel for his career

Photography was your more proficient skill

One day while you were walking around the city, snapping a few pics, you saw it— Or rather, him

Spider-man, the hero of Queens

Lounging in an alleyway, sat in a hammock made of spiderwebs with a pair of headphones on

His red and blue color pallet immediately caught your eyes and you took a picture with no second thoughts

While you were fawning over catching a picture of someone so famous, the camera flash had caused the spandex-attired male to turn in your direction

Oh dear how he felt his heartbeat speed up three times than usual

Good lord you were a goddess in his eyes

He was stammering and tripping over his own words, unable to get anything out

There goes his spiderman charm

“So you're the real deal, huh?” You asked, stepping into the alleyway while looking up at him

“M-mhm, yup. In the flesh— whoa!” He stood up in his hammock but immediately lost balance, slipping and falling into the dumpster besides you. His head popped up from the pile of garbage bags

“More like in the spandex...” A gag came from your lips. “...And rotten foods.” You giggled, plucking a half-eaten banana from off his head

‘Im in love’ He thought then and there

From that point on, a beautiful relationship formed between you and Spiderman, the both of you meeting up in secluded areas of the city and exchanging joyous words every day

The time you and his geeky self -aka Peter Parker- met up was when you and Eddie paid a visit to the Bugle, in search for some juicy news to cover and report on

Peter had intentionally bumped into you in hopes to start up any sort of small talk. It was then that he found out that you wanted to dig deeper into Spidermans background and find out more about him

He promised to take you out, claiming that he had some “interesting spots that Spiderman likes to hang out at”

Of course, you took his words and set off with him

Eddie and Venom were definitely cautious of Peter

‘We should bite his head off.’ “Venom, no.” ‘What if he takes advantage of her?’ “He seems like a nice guy. Besides, [Name] can take care of herself.” ‘He's checking her out, Eddie.’ “...” ‘Exactly.’

Eddie sighed, speaking up to call your name. “Hey, uh, [Name],” You whipped your head around, grabbing Peters hand to stop him from walking off without you. “Yeah? What's up?” Eddie sighed again, probably anticipating you to feel offense to what he said: “I know that you're, uh, grown and all but... Y'know, be safe out there. Don't wander into the unknown, kay?” But instead you laughed at him in the most innocent way possible. “Don't worry, don't worry. I can stand my own.” And smiled so brightly it made his worries wash away.

And just like that, you were gone

‘We should follow them’ “Can you not? I'd like to respect her privacy as a grown woman, thank you very much.”

Sightseeing new places was definetly checked off of your bucket list

Peter practically dragged you everywhere he found to be a great site for dates

Yes, he was trying to find a way to turn this into a date

And yes, he was worried on whether you'd catch on to it or not

Most of the places he went to, he was commonly known in

“Hey Peter, who's the lucky girl?”

Que the blushing nerd

“She's, uh, new in town. I'm just taking her to some places Spiderman likes to stop by to. A-also, we're just aqquantices.”

“Haha, yeah. Well try not to confuse where the line ends at, okay?”

You and him were pretty much already talked about to be a couple

It was extremely embarassing for Peter, whilst you displayed no problem with what they were saying

Soon enough, you earned a spot in the Bugle as a worker, right in the same position as Peter

“[Name]? Wh-what are you-” “Guess who found a new job?~” He swore his heartbeat could be heard from miles away

You and Peter poking fun at one another

When he first grew the balls and finally asked you on a date, your affirmation had him absolutely ecstatic

Him taking you to one of the places he told you that his alter-ego liked to hang out at, which to say was spotted at a high-up place where you could see the city sparkle beautifully

“D-dude... This is awesome...!” “Not as awesome as you.” Peter would whisper under his breath, to which you'd clocked your head round and ask him to repeat what he said. “Nothing.” He replied with a sweat

A devious grin grew on your face. “Peeeeeettteeerr~” You sang. At that moment, the brunet knew he was screwed. “You like me don't you?”

Welp

Time to jump off the building and hopefully land into another dumpster ans roll away never to be seen again

“I-I-I mean, well, I guess if you mean by having a strong sense of attraction towards you then... M-maybe I...” “Awww, you totally do~” You have him a quick peck on the lips, then ruffling his hair. “Well, I like you more so don't start thinking that I don't!” Poor boy fainted on the spot

Eddie and Venom getting a tad bit worried of you whenever you claimed you were going out late at night

‘Where is she going?’ “To mind her own business, much like you should be doing.”

Most of the time when you did do so, you'd be skipping to Peters apartment

q̶u̶i̶c̶k̶ r̶e̶m̶i̶n̶d̶e̶r̶ t̶h̶a̶t̶ y̶o̶u̶ a̶n̶d̶ p̶e̶t̶e̶ a̶r̶e̶ a̶d̶u̶l̶t̶s̶, l̶i̶k̶e̶ i̶n̶ y̶o̶u̶r̶ 1̶9̶s̶

Whenever Eddie heard you enter the apartment at such a late time at night, he'd just start fearing that you would walk right back out

He loved you so much and really didn't want to see you leave his life again

The concern on his face when he'd found out you brought your own appartment room had mortified you

“You're honestly... Gonna go?”

“Oh chill out Ed. I'm just down the street, okay? Nothing bad is gonna happen to your little sister so quit whining.” You'd reassure with a light kiss on his forehead. “You too, Venom. I know you're worried about me and as flattering as that is I'd appreciate it if you saw me capable to take care of myself, thanks.”

Of course, you paid visits to them every now and then just so that neither would get this feeling of loneliness again

Peter helped spruce up your apartment room with some of his own decor

“You sure this okay?” “Of course, I've always wanted a part of me inside you—” He mentally slapped himself to stop something he knew was inevitable. “I-I-I mean, like, I uh.... I...”

Quick and steamy makeout sessions to stop his stammering

Very gentle™ when having sex

Like, neither of you are virgins and are aware of what goes on during intercourse but still

Also, he made sure to put a condom on so dw

Remember kids: You can't make love without a glove

Don't be a fool, cover your tool

Don't be silly and wrap your willy-

You loved running your fingers into his hair w̶h̶i̶l̶e̶ h̶e̶ r̶e̶a̶r̶r̶a̶n̶g̶e̶d̶ y̶o̶u̶r̶ i̶n̶s̶i̶d̶e̶s̶ w̶i̶t̶h̶ h̶i̶s̶ d̶i̶c̶k̶ because of how soft and curly they were

Apparently he was sensitive to you tugging his hair cuz the moment you did he was melting into your body

G̶u̶e̶s̶s̶ w̶h̶o̶ f̶o̶u̶n̶d̶ a̶ w̶a̶y̶ t̶o̶ t̶u̶r̶n̶ P̶e̶t̶e̶r̶ P̶a̶r̶k̶e̶r̶ i̶n̶t̶o̶ a̶ s̶u̶b̶?

Eddie would drop by your job sometimes just to check in on you, and would usually catch you in mid-talk with Peter

‘Is this the guy she's been going out late at night with?' “Can you at least try to be supportive of her decisions?” ‘You're worried for her... WE'RE worried for her.’

He always came in unnoticed and left unnoticed, much to his relief because he didn't want to seem like a stalker in your eyes

When you finally decided to let both Eddie and Venom into your house, they had devoured a quarter of your food that was meant to be for Peter for tomorrows dinner

Not like you told him that you and Peter were a thing

“We're sorry for eating all your food...” “It's okay. I understand. We all get hungry sometimes.”

Later that same night after Peter dropped by, you both setteled for pizza with a side of takeout

“So do I wanna know about the how, where and why a majority of your food is gone?”

“No,” You took a bite of your pizza “No you do not.”

Romcoms were tonights theme

“Do you think we'll ever be like those guys on TV?” “Peter, we're even better than them.”

Smothering him in smooches whenever he's feeling down

Lots of snuggles

Always coming through the fire escape part of his apartment and greeting him from there

Too bad big brother Venom and Eddie were stalking you

“When were you going to tell us about your male companion?” A familiar voice asked as you unlocked your apartment door and walked in, the lights clicking on

Oh fuck

Okay I've reached the limit, time to make a part 2

[suggestionsofthecaribbean]

The Black Pearl: James and Elizabeth

The morning after Halloween, James and Elizabeth are moderately hungover.  The topic of sex, and sexual boundaries, comes up again.

CW: Carnal matters.  Pervasive and occasionally explicit.

The first thing James did on waking the morning after the shipboard Halloween festivities was stumble out of Elizabeth’s cabin as quickly as he could in search of the nearest unoccupied gun port into which he could be sick instead of onto the floor.

The second was to check the time. The third was to blog one single syllable of displeasure while ignoring the laughing of pirates who were probably no less sodden than he was at the moment but enjoyed getting to call out “You all right there, Commodore?” as he groped his way back toward the cabin, wincing.

Elizabeth waited for him there.

Sunglasses. Advil.

A sympathetic smirk.

“Hey, babe,” she said, peering above her own sunnies at him.  “Don’t be mad, but I let you sleep. I thought you may require it.”

“I am God’s own idiot,” he said, feeling around the bed in case he had left anything there that he needed to bring above deck, up to and including a pistol with which to shoot himself. “I can't even recall last night-”

“I can.”

“Oh, God,” James muttered.

“You were delicious, and so was the rum.”

“I- wait, what?”

James stopped where he was, sitting on the edge of the bed, and rubbed the back of his neck.

“I also partook,” she said delicately.

“You- oh God- did we-”

Elizabeth, who had been leaning back on the bed beside him, legs jauntily crossed, suddenly lost her air of smug superiority and flushed.

“If my memory serves- not for lack of trying.”

“Oh, God,” he repeated, leaning forward into his hands. “Were we the only ones-”

“Drinking? Of course not,” she laughed.

“Thank God,” he said. He accepted the Advil and swallowed them dry. “Elizabeth, I’m sorry-”

“For?”

“Making a fool of myself, as ever.”

“Stop panicking,” laugh Elizabeth, patting him on the thigh.  “You didn’t.”

“I know, I- wait.”

He tilted his head to look at her. “I didn't?”

“No!  You were very popular-”

“In what manner-”

“Charming, very funny - very devil-may-care - you won some money at a dice game. Do you not recall any of this?”

“I might when my head stops splitting.”

Elizabeth eased him back onto the bed, head in her lap, gently rubbing his temple and settling herself against a pillow against the headboard, contentedly. 

“I felt like that in the morning, but I’ve vanquished the worst of it,” she said brightly.  “Of course I think I had much less than you.”

“You're also not breaking several months of abstinence,” he muttered. “Please stop me next time. I shall try to do better as well, but please-”

“I was already tipsy when you started.”

James winced his eyes shut.

“Ah, he said. “That would explain it.”

He let her massage him for a moment longer before his eyes opened again in wide, startled surprise.

“Popular, though-”

“Center of attention, made everyone laugh. Course, we were all drunk, maybe you weren’t very funny-”  Her fingers in his hair grew slow and dreamy as she thought on it.  “...and you are a very flirty drunk, James, my lord.”

“With you, I hope-”

Elizabeth started laughing gaily.  “Of course with me!”

“Ah, good. With my record, I couldn't be certain-”

“Barbossa banished us here after we got a bit too frisky -” Here Elizabeth herself actually winced, biting her lip and disguising her snarl as another laugh. “That, I am afraid, everybody saw - everybody, and Will.”  She realized quickly how James would most likely take that. “...I don’t mean that anybody saw anything but kissing and general flirtation.  I doubt Barbossa could handle any more than that.”

“But we didn't… all right. I shall try to live with this.”

James closed his eyes again; even the dim light of the curtained cabin hurt. Elizabeth surreptitiously slid the pair of sunglasses onto his face, which made him frown a little and then relax again.

“I may have destroyed that goodwill by vomiting from a gunport,” he admitted.

“Pirates.”

“Lisbet, I know I'm not terribly popular hereabouts,” he said, slowly leaning his head into her hands, “and I don't expect that to change over one rash night of drinking.”

“Oh, I know. But first of all, the vomiting will change nothing. And second of all…”

She leaned over him to touch noses for a moment.

“...you’re mine and I don’t care.”

He would have kissed her if not for fear of smelling- and worse, tasting- foul. He reached up to caress her hair instead.

“You're a more patient woman than you credit yourself.”

“I’m not.  But I adore you.”

“You look well for someone in similar condition.”

“I’ve been awake longer. Had a lot of juice. And a lot of Advil.”

“I must look ghastly,” he said, with a weak laugh.

In truth, he didn't; with his eyes covered, it was impossible to see how bloodshot they were, which was the only real resemblance he bore to his former drunken squalor. His beard was trimmed and in good shape, and his hair, though a little sweat-dampened at the moment, had grown out enough to look intentional and maintained again at last.

“Don’t now and certainly didn’t last night.  I distinctly remember. You leaned on everything and flicked your hair out of your eyes with insouciance.  When we made it to the bed you had your knees wide apart. You were inviting.”

“...oh, my God,” he said, sounding mortified. “Only toward you, I hope-”

“Only me - James, you were more attentive to me than you are sober-”

“...ah,” he said, taking a moment to process this. “I'm… sorry?”

“I’m not!”

“I would kiss you,” he said, “but I've been sick-”

“Noted,” she said, wrinkling her nose and laughing again. In truth, her headache had not fully subsided - sitting in the dimmer cabin with sunglasses on sipping unsweetened tea was not what she regularly liked to do for fun - but James feeling worse made her feel better by comparison, and it was also, more favorably, a pleasant distraction to dote on him.  

“If you’ll give me a moment to brush my teeth, I will make up for that-”

“Also noted,” she said delightedly.

James pushed himself up- it took a couple of tries- and stretched, though he had to lean on the wall for a moment.

“Perhaps I don’t need to be as abstaining as I thought,” he said, “if this is the greeting I receive the following morning.”

“On holidays, anyway,” she said gamely.

“And ashore, perhaps,” said James. “When I needn’t be on-task-”

“Oh, perhaps - I can permit that. Less than you drank yesterday, of course-”

“How much did I drink?” His voice was muffled by the toothbrush.

“Enough not to remember today, apparently,” she laughed at him.  “Enough that last night, we couldn’t…”

“That’s for the best.”

“Indeed,” she laughed. “We were about to go full speed ahead, no quondam!”

James took a mouthful of water and then pried open the window to spit.

“Thank God for the carnal failures of drunken men. I doubt I could have sustained it to begin with.”

Elizabeth got to her feet slowly, adjusting her belt in a haughty, masculine gesture, before striding across the room towards him.  Her boots brought her there quickly.  It was such a small space - intimate, one might say.

“I believe I expressed an interest in proceeding otherwise before falling asleep.  Ah, well. I am sure I had very…pleasant dreams,” said Elizabeth, leaning her back against the wall beside him, the picture of innocent intent.

James took off the sunglasses and winced, but he needed to rub his eyes. He had to flick his hair back again to do so, and made a little noise of irritation at having to, but it was more flattering falling around his face whether he wanted to admit it or not.

“A drunken man is no good in bed,” James said as he tugged on the dusty curtain covering the window.

“Seems a drunken woman is very quick to go there, regardless,” said Elizabeth promptly, smoothing his wrinkled shirt.

“At least I now know that I am still capable of socially acceptable behavior while in my cups,” James muttered.

She smiled up at him distractedly. “Indeed.”

“You enjoyed this too much,” he said, faintly alarmed.

“It was enjoyable,” she said, a hint of shyness entering her manner.  From Elizabeth, shyness was a contradictory trait; even when she visibly felt it, it did not hinder her frankness.  In some contexts it even transformed itself into courage, but as far as James was concerned, it was generally precipitous of new boldness.  Sure enough, Elizabeth glanced him over, parted her lips and said, “And I may permit you to do it again, with supervision.”

“With supervision,” James repeated.

“My supervision.”

“Your very sober supervision.”

“...not really what I had in mind.”

“I may be fresh enough for that kiss now.”

“Indeed?” the Pirate King asked, and gave it to him.

“Mm-”

He was still a little unsteady on his feet, and had to cling more than he’d planned.  Elizabeth misinterpreted this, and pulled him closer to her with a little gasp. “Oh, James-”

He kissed her one last time and added, “At least now I have the comfort of getting drunk before you jab me with your little needle, I suppose-“

Elizabeth’s hands pushed themselves up his chest to clutch his lapel and haul him back down to kiss her again.

“You do -”

“Ah-”

He kissed her, hefting her up clumsily into his arms and then staggering just enough from his lingering dizziness to have to hold her up with one arm as he flung the other behind himself to brace with, flicking his hair back again unthinkingly. The waviness that had been visible in his low year was beginning to show again, though at this length it was more of a perpetual floppy tousle.

Unable to keep upright with her in his arms, James carried her toward the bed again and sat down with a thump.

“I shall have to let you cling more in trousers today, I think, if I am to keep you up-“

“Oh, really?” she asked softly, looking him dead in the eyes as she wrapped her legs around his waist and tightened them.

James opened his mouth to say something, looking a little startled, then paused.

“You've got a bit of-”

He tugged it away, to slight resistance, and held it up to show her. It was a little wisp of false hair that had still been stuck to her cheek.

She made a face.

“How drunk was I?” he asked, looking mildly alarmed. “I can’t even place what this is-“

“Drunker than I remember seeing you,” she said with a shrug.

“All right,” he concluded. “Never mind- I shouldn't do this again just-”

“James,” she said, urgently, tightening her arms around his shoulders to pull him closer.

“I’m bound to do something stupid eventually- I apologize for my laxness.”

“It was a party,” she said, not altogether displeased he didn’t remember her as Barbossa, but not altogether happy he didn’t remember curling his forefinger under her chin with an out-of-focus smirk as he kissed her in spite of that.

“I'm not losing myself in my thoughts now,” he said, trying to lean back to look at her, “if that's what you're worried about. I'm only… taking stock of things.”

“James. Come down here.”

“Yes?”

There wasn’t very much there to go down, but he did his best. Elizabeth enfolded him in her arms, pressing his face into her chest and sinking her fingers into his hair.

“Shut up.”

James groaned. “M’apologies.”

He laced his fingers into her hair from his awkward position below, realized his face was level with- pressed against!- her breasts, and quickly tried to lift himself away from them, but Elizabeth was having none of it.

“Stay here,” she said firmly.  “At least until your Advil’s kicked in.”

“Lisbet, this is a rather compromising position-”

“Hmm?” she asked wryly, scruffling his hair.

“My face is in your-”

She tilted his chin up with her fingertips.

“Better now?”

He looked a little dazed as he leaned his cheek on her shoulder instead.

“You don't have to stay here.”

“Low wind today, plus two other captains on board without hangovers.”  Elizabeth paused. “At least, I don’t think Teague’s hungover.  I know he drank last night, but - does it make any difference to him, at this point?  And you know how Barbossa is.  Well, the point is, I don’t have a lot else to do, and the sun is really bright.”

“Saving our strength for the cave. That's what we'll call it.”

She snorted.

“Everyone knows we’re hungover, Captain Norrington.”

“You as well?”

“Yeah?”

“I assumed you hid it around the rest of them, and didn't go running for a gunport for fear you couldn't open the window in time.”

“No, I didn’t make it to a gunport,” she grimaced.  “You slept right through it.  Cleaned it up myself, though.  I don’t try to make it out like I’m better’n anyone else is.”

“I could have helped you with that, if I were not so drunk myself,” he said. “Whatever you're doing with my hair, don't stop-”

Even in the midst of the hangover, the humidity, the headache, her heart melted.

“Oh, James,” she said breathlessly.

“Yes?” he asked, leaning into her touch. “I could hold you instead if you'd prefer-”

“No,” she said, helpless, “it’s just… you’re so…. not-you.”

“Hungover? Unfortunately, that's very me.”

She let it rest there.

“Regardless, I think I ought to hold you a little longer.”

“I'll permit it.”

He allowed himself to lean against her without holding himself back at last, with a sigh.  Elizabeth abruptly shifted, changing her mind- preferring to lean back on the bedspread again, with James resting against her that way.  But soon they had returned to a dreamy state of idleness, Elizabeth coddling him and smiling up at the ceiling half-wittedly.

“How is your ex-husband managing,” James asked softly.

“Sober and fairly well pleased with himself,” she said, more shortly than she meant to.

“Ah,” said James. “I hope he has not given you any trouble-?”

“No.”

“Ah. Good; we last spoke under… difficult terms.”

He paused.

“A running theme, it would seem. No matter; I'm glad enough knowing you're mine now.”

She smiled, perhaps a bit begrudgingly, but it helped her unwind nonetheless.  It was only then she realized how tense she’d become and let out a short bark of laughter.

“Forgive me, I’m… I wish he weren’t on this voyage,” she admitted.  “It’s difficult… knowing he’s here.”

“Presumably this will be the end of it. I do owe him some reconciliation with his father. I promised him that much, and I prefer keeping my word.”

“Yes, I know,” she said distantly.  

“My God,” he said distantly. “I was so far beyond hope that you would ever choose me over him, and yet…”

She ruffled his hair - perhaps a little bit sadly.

“Watching you,” James murmured, “in the heat- in your trousers, without a coat- without so much as jumps, at that-”

“What, sweating?” she said flatly.

“Perhaps a little,” he said. “It makes you glisten.”

“What about it?” she asked, mystified.

“It is intensely attractive.”

She laughed, startled, and then she sighed, loudly, fondly, his name.

“Your hair fanning behind you,” he added. “It reminds me of how fortunate I am.”

She’d been going to tease him about his preference for boys, real or imagined, before he said that.  Not only did she no longer have an opening for such a joke, she no longer had the heart for it.  Elizabeth rubbed the back of his neck.

Tenderly, she prompted, “Fortunate?”

“To be the man with whom you have chosen to spend your life,” he said. “To say nothing of having the privilege of watching you strut about the deck like that and knowing I may take you to bed later-”

“James!” she gasped, in delighted shock. “That’s very forward of you - I approve.”

“I can only imagine most men prefer their wives in skirts so as to avoid being unduly preoccupied by them otherwise,” James said dryly.

“And do you find yourself unduly preoccupied by me?” she asked, perhaps too giddy.

“Often,” said James. “Too often by far-”

She bit her lip and smirked up at the ceiling.

“You don't know the effect you can have on a man, Lisbet,” said James, in a faraway sort of tone. “Every inch of you. There was a moment some weeks ago when you had tucked your hair under your hat and I found myself held at a disadvantage by the back of your neck.”

That knocked the smirk off her face.  Instead of pride, she found her immediate reaction was disbelief.  And this from her dull suitor of only a few years ago - reconciling this confession with that was a bit much to overcome.

“My- really? My neck?” she asked, gracelessly.

“That one, I confess, is not new- not with how often your hair was done away from it in Port Royal,” he conceded. “I suppose it was the reminder of that.”

“When did that start?” she pressed on, still bewildered. “It’s not a feature that changes with maturity.”

“I seem to recall it around the time I had begun to love everything about you,” he said, rather simply.

It would do very little good to dwell on it - she had already gone over why countless times - and at this point James seemed to wince every time it came up that she wished she had noticed the sincerity - the severity - of his affection sooner.  But Christ!

“Well, it’s all yours now,” she said, even if she could not fully understand what allure the back of the neck could possibly have - she still understood that if a smallish thing like that could provoke him then he must want her very much indeed.

“I think,” he said slowly, eyes shut,  “it was the thought of being permitted to touch it, and the intimacy such an act would entail.”

Elizabeth dislodged him only very slowly as she sat up, only to look down at him a long moment, tracing her fingertip over his lips.

“...Would you like to?”

“Lisbet,” he began, embarrassed. “It's not- I was merely struck by the memory while watching you storm about the place in an unlaced shirt and trousers-”

“Well, if you want to - I think I’d like it,” she said hesitantly.

James sat up with some difficulty, flinching against the sunlight as he opened his eyes again. Elizabeth's hair was down at the moment, but that only added to the sensation as he pushed his hand under it to rest at the back of her neck, as lightly as an insect on a leaf.

“...like this,” he said softly.

Elizabeth parted her lips, and her eyes widened just slightly - but she could not speak for a moment.  When she found it in her to move, she leaned in and rested her head, tremulously, on his shoulder. James threaded his fingers through her hair.

“I couldn't bear to dwell on this-”

“- because I had made you no promise,” she surmised.

Elizabeth released a breath she had not known she was holding.  

“I am so relieved that things fell into place such that I did not lose out on this. On… you,” she confessed, and pressed her face into the area between his neck and shoulder, her arm creeping around his back to embrace him. He put both arms around her and held tight.

“I wish I could make this sound like anything but the lowest of lust-”

“It doesn’t,” Elizabeth snorted.  “That’s - God help me, that was what I was experiencing concurrently.  Thinking about a blacksmith’s toned arms,” she   deadpanned.  “I do know that what I had with Will was real… eventually.  At that point, it was nothing more than a daydream about a boy I barely knew.  At least… at least you knew me.”

“I thought I did, at least,” he said, with a sad smile. He kissed her temple through her hair.

“Enough to know you should like to know me better,” she amended.

“Well,” he said, “now I do. I suppose it ended as well as it could have?”

“As my dog, you mean? You seem to handle it well-”

There might have been a pun in that.

“Elizabeth,” said James. “I scarcely know what I'm speaking of- I would have always- I cannot imagine not loving you, regardless of everything else-”

Elizabeth barely bit back a smile, touching his face as though hesitant to actually lay her hand on him - as though it would pass right through him.

“Oh, well then.”

“I hope that's not overmuch-”

“Hardly, but I don’t know what provoked it-”

“I rather dwell on the thought.”

She laid her hand on his rough cheek, brushing her thumb back and forth affectionately.

“...more than I care to admit,” he said, without looking at her.

“Because I am less amenable than you would like?” she asked, following his gaze, and cupping his face in her hands, leaning in to give him a kiss in apology.

“No- no, you’ve done nothing wrong-” James protested, lowering his eyes, flustered.  Elizabeth laughed against his lips, deepening the kiss - she loved when he got like this.

“I tell you I don’t dwell on this - not like you do. But it rests at the back of my mind, like - “

She slid her fingers into his hair and kissed him again, her fingers gently pressing the crown of his head.

“- like a pressure, and then I give it some mind, and it becomes-”

She gripped his hair - slowly, and not enough that it could pain him, but certainly enough to be felt.

“-overpowering-”

“Elizabeth-”

“I’ll just look across the deck, and see the faint glimmer of red in your hair, and take note of the figure you cut, and it will all hit me at once,” Elizabeth confided, her lips against his, but not yet kissing him, and with her hand as it was, he couldn’t lean in to do it himself.  “That man is mine.  To do with as I please.  As it pleases him.”

She cupped the back of his head as she kissed him. James gasped against her lips, closing his eyes again.

“...red?” he repeated faintly. It was just about the only thing he could seize on that wasn’t going to exacerbate the situation beginning to happen down below. The alcohol was clearly no longer that present in his system.

“Mm, yes. So strange; you have such dark hair.  It’s really lovely, you know.  And it’s grown out almost curling,” she said, wrapping a lock around her finger possessively, adoringly.

“It- yes,” he said awkwardly, trying to keep on a safe topic. “It always has- I suppose it merely doesn’t show after a certain point. Er, thank you-”

Her fingers moved to his chin and glided down his throat in continued approval.  “I suppose I do not like it as you like mine - I can think of no one in the world who has liked anything, the way you seem to like my hair - but my word, James.  That wig did your cause more damage than you have caused any buccaneer in the Caribbean.  I have so much lost time to account for, and I shall begin by recognizing your beauty - you are beautiful, James.  Moreso now I can be prideful to have you, too-”

“I- thank you,” he said again. “It’s- well, had we married, I certainly would not have worn the damned thing in private-”

“Yes, I can only imagine now we are as good as married what it would have been like: very different to my expectations.  And if you had touched the back of my neck as you do now,” she said, with a mean twinkle in her eyes, “or certainly if you had ever put your hands in my hair as you are wont, I would have fallen desperately in love with you, and lived happily ever after.”

“I can only hope I would have,” he said, taking a handful of her hair as he said so and bringing it to his lips to kiss its length.

She shivered.

“I don’t understand. I don’t feel that, and yet…”

“It is not… conditional on your hair- I hope that much is clear-”

“It is, but -”  Elizabeth bit her lip, genuinely conflicted. “Is it strange, though - is it wrong, that the way you like it… affects me?”

James stopped mid-kiss.

“...it affects you?”

“Yes,” she said, self-conscious.

“...ah,” James said awkwardly. “I hope that’s acceptable-”

“Why wouldn’t it be?  I merely want to know if you think it’s wrong- or unusual-”

“I don’t- why would I?”

“You know rather a lot more about relations between men and women than I do -”

“I don’t find it perverse, if that’s what you fear-”

“No,” she said with a laugh. “Weird, at most-”

“I’ve seen weirder,” he said flatly.

“No doubt, in the King’s navy,” she said, holding his chin fondly, and kissing him. James finally laughed again and returned it.

“No, darling, I don’t think there’s anything too odd about it. My only concern is that you find my affections shallow.”

“Less so than my own, I assure you,” said Elizabeth, pulling his shirt open.

“Mm- I shall do my utmost to avoid any permanent injuries, then.”

She ran her hand liberally over his chest, then leaned in to kiss his collarbone.  “Touch my hair again,” she murmured.

James obediently began pushing his fingers through it with a light laugh. “Of course, Your Majesty.”

“Good boy-”

“Elizabeth.”

“I can’t resist that any more than you can resist me.”

He nuzzled into her hair. “Duly noted.”

She let out a sharp sigh.

“Oh, this does wonders for what remains of my misery,” she said contentedly.  “Being here with you.  Though I am sure being more hydrated helps.  How are you feeling, by the way?”

“This is a wonderful distraction,” he said, though his eyes were still closed. “I shall manage.”

“Or be managed, as the case may be.  As the case is, I should say.”  

“Elizabeth?”

“Yes, love?”

“You understand that your physical charms are not all that has gained my interest, I hope?”

“I certainly never imagined so,” said Elizabeth, with the full knowledge that she had been taller and lankier and considerably longer in the chin than most women who were considered beautiful would be.  Besides, she had very little bosom to speak of.  “I can only assume you were bewitched by the idea of a bride who wouldn’t obey a single thing you said.”

James ignored that last jab. “Very well. As long as you understand that I am… aware of the difficulties of this life, and the damages it may inflict-”

“Yes, yes,” she said dismissively. “You’re so morbid, James.”

“You have reminded me often enough that we may not survive this voyage,” said James. “I have reminded myself in turn that there are worse things than that that can befall one at sea.”

“We’ll just have to appreciate each other as though there is no tomorrow,” she said, smiling.

James kissed her again, making a proprietary fist in her hair as he did.

“Good,” he said firmly. “I would hate for you to have runaway ideas about my losing interest in you were you to be without this due to some mishap or another, and that’s only one example.”

“I don’t, but do you really have to speculate on it?” she groaned.  It was not a noise to indicate desire for once.

“It tends to occupy the background of one’s thoughts while thinking of marriage,” James retorted.

“Mutilation does? Are you certain? Are you really very certain?”

“In the Navy it certainly does!”

“Surely not one’s wife’s mutilation, though,” she said dubiously.

“If one is to take her to sea, it's a matter which must unfortunately be weighed. Mrs. Fenton had a halt in her step for some time, though I understand she eventually recovered-”

“Don’t you think,” she baited him, “that you should have given me some notion of that before you married me?  Not a word during our engagement.  Why, you would have had me under false pretences.”

“I would have offered you the chance to stay home,” said James, “and full awareness of the risks. But I also intended to surprise you with the offer to accompany me to sea-“

“An offer I would have gladly accepted - rather more gladly than I had the man who made it,” said Elizabeth, wrapping her arms around his shoulders much like a happy wife would.

“I’m flattered,” James said dryly.

“Who knew that underneath it all, you had such....” Her eyes moved from his, almost unconsciously, down to his bared chest and throat, and she wetted her lips, and looked at him again, and gave a small, helpless shrug.  “-character.”

“Thank you,” he said, even more flatly.

“How glad I am I got to know you better after all,” said Elizabeth, rubbing her hand along his chest once more and dipping a finger between his pectoral muscles with approval. James followed her finger down with his eyes.

“Are you- all right, I shall accept a compliment where I can find it, but God, if it's not a little overwhelming.”

“What, pray tell, do you mean,” asked Elizabeth, her own eyes also following the trespasses of her fingers, as they now strayed over the full expanse of his chest.  Her touches were light, but purposeful and possessive.

“For you to have cared so little, and not too long ago, to this- it’s rather a lot-“

“Oh, James,” she said, eyes meeting his abruptly with a wince of guilt.

James lay his hand against her cheek.

“Forgive me, that was- unnecessarily harsh.”

“Not so harsh as fate’s been to you,” she said, cupping her hand over his and turning her face to kiss his palm.  “I do care for you now - I cared for you before, just not as you hoped.”

She mulled over her thoughts only a moment before committing to what it came to her mind to say. “I love you.”

“It certainly took you long enough,” James said, though not unwarmly or accusingly.

He kissed her. “I love you, too.”

Elizabeth frowned into the kiss, but did not end it - kissed back, harder, as though it were a competition. “I - did not realize - it was a matter of any - urgency-”

“I pride myself on punctuality,” said James.

“And I on my free spirit-”

“All right, I grant you that-”

“I do not need your permission for it,” she practically sneered, but something in her tone of voice was hungry and pleading regardless. “Grant me something else-”

Small wonder what else she could want.

“We still haven’t any quondams, Lisbet,” he reminded her. It was rather a pity; release was good for a headache.

“Let me have it anyway,” she commanded, tossing her hair while gripping his. In spite of the roughness with which she handled him, she never really forgot herself - Elizabeth was always careful to not yank his hair.  If the firmness of her grip startled him, it would at least never hurt.  “I want you in my mouth.”

James stared at her, momentarily deprived of speech.

“...I’m… amenable,” he said, eyes still widened, his whole body bowstring-tense.

She took his hands in hers then, guiding one to her mouth and the other to the crotch of his trousers.  She teasingly took the tips of his fingers between her lips, while her other hand entwined their fingers and rubbed at his groin.

“All right- all right, I'm awake now-”

“Still amenable, darling?”

“You make a strong case-”

“Mm. Awake indeed, my love,” she said, her face lighting up.  “Now… To begin with, I’ll want you to take your shirt off.”

It wasn't hard; his shirt was already mostly open. James did not break eye contact with her as he chucked it aside.

“All right.”

Elizabeth released his hands and reached out for him, burying her face against his chest for a moment and breathing him in.  He smelled of sour sweat and spilled rum, but other, more pleasant odors took over for her - the spices of the rum, the taste of salt, the familiar scent of his skin.  She kissed him, and then she bit him - then she pulled back to assess that she had done him no wrong.

“What was that?”

He was, to be fair, more bemused than anything.

“Does that heighten your enjoyment?”

“...not particularly,” he admitted, “though it scarcely retracted from it either-”

“Pity - it does mine,” said Elizabeth, trying a different approach - she resumed her kisses, but more slowly, and more gently; and then after a time, introduced the application of her tongue.

“I don’t know how you can do that,” he said, watching her with a sort of detached lordliness. “I expect I must taste foul after last night.”

“I like your taste.”

“Perhaps I shall let you wash me when you’re done,” he said, leaning back and shutting his burning eyes again.

“Oho, I did not offer to-”

“Maybe I am telling you to,” said James.

“Sorry, what’s that, dog?”

“I cannot be blamed for trying.”

“Mm.”  The censure of her kisses was mild, at least.  She did consider withdrawing to tease him, but she didn’t particularly want to deny herself just because he was being disobedient.  She would have to show him that being in her power was too enjoyable to give up.

“Mm what-”

“James, you are not being appreciative.”

“Don’t fool yourself into thinking I did not notice your enjoyment of having the tables turned against you the last time I held you down to the bed.”

“Yes, you’re a big strong man, I know,” she said dryly.

“I might do it again later,” he retorted, beginning to smile vaguely with his eyes still closed.

“Are you planning on acting bored then, too?” asked Elizabeth, her patience starting to fray.

“I never claimed to be bored,” said James, as he blindly felt along her arm and back until he had found her neck and could slip his fingers across the back of it. “In fact, I am enjoying myself a great deal at the moment.”

That made up for it for the time being.  After a little more dallying, Elizabeth moved downward.

James tensed and opened his eyes.

His breathing heavy but even, he moved his hand upward to grasp at her hair.

“I think,” he said, “that I may have to provide you with some direction.”

Elizabeth gasped.

“James!”

“I rather thought your majesty liked this-“

“She’s - amenable -”

“Ah. Good for her, then. Continue-“

“May I undress you?”

“Yes- yes, please-“

“Please?”

“Yes-“

“That all? You don’t seem to want it much-”

“I’m a little distracted-“

“By what, pray tell?” asked Elizabeth, as she freed him from his trousers.  “Mm, imagine how I should have gasped to see this once.”

“With- delight, one can only hope-“

Elizabeth, heedless of his hand in her hair, came up to nose at his throat, her friendliness in this manner softening the heartlessness of her teasing.

“Commodore Norrington, it’s enormous-”

“Elizabeth!” James blurted, covering his face with his free arm.

Elizabeth laughed and pulled him sweetly down to her, running her fingers through his hair and kissing the top of his head.

“Elizabeth- what in God’s name was that-“

“Realism.”

“Oh my God-“

She slid her hand down between his thighs again.  “It really is, too, you know,” she said conversationally.  

“Is this- you don’t go telling others anything about this, do you-“

“Our secret.”  She kissed him, while at the same time giving him a squeeze.

“Oh my God-“

James involuntarily released her hair. She made a noise of surprised displeasure, and he grabbed at it again in a scrambling hurry.

“If we are to do this, I need to tell you where to go-“

“What, have I been doing it wrong,” she said dubiously.

“No, it’s- I was put off. I lost my train of thought-“

Elizabeth kissed him on the throat and continued touching him, trying to coax him into remembering.

“...squeezing will do that, you know,” James added, a little crossly.

“Pardon me my eagerness to touch you, Captain Norrington,” said Elizabeth - herself out of breath now.  “You must know how you linger in my thoughts, distract me with longing-”

“A welcome change of affairs, to be certain-”

He regained his grip and tightened it.

“Strange and - unexpectedly -” she managed, before giving up on conversation altogether - having one’s hair pulled will do that.  

“I shall have to ensure my place in them, then, will I not?”

She groaned.

“There are a lot of places I’d like to have you in -”

“Most pertinently, your mouth-”

“And you?” she implored, beginning her earlier attentions again - more slowly than earlier, so as to not get him off track again.  “Do you want to put yourself there?”

“I,” said James, “would be satisfied to put you there myself-”

Elizabeth’s mouth opened of its own accord - not as a reaction to the conversation at hand, but out of dimly interested shock. Something in her brain slowed and stopped processing information when James said filthy things.

“And I do seem to have a good handle with which to direct you, rather than trying to speak on it-”

Elizabeth thought about another smart-ass remark; she was the Pirate King, a pirate lord and captain well beyond simply being voted into the position by men who had wanted to fuck her.  Scourge of the Caribbean or no, James Norrington had better respect her or else.  But her mouth seemed to have some trouble in catching up with her thoughts; she was too tongue-tied for a single comeback.

It was not like Elizabeth to be flustered.  That in and of itself was worth some analysis, and she thought suddenly of what he had said a moment ago about turning the tables.  

Damn him, he wasn’t wrong.

Finally she managed to half-stammer out a reply.  “I’ll - I’ll permit that.”

“Do you desire it, or merely permit it?” James asked. “I would hardly see you forced.”

She grit her teeth for a moment, but he had but to tilt his hand in her hair just slightly enough for her to feel the tug for her to open her mouth again.

“I want it - James, direct me-”

“...Elizabeth,” he began, “are you certain-”

Elizabeth laid her hand on his chest and met his eyes.  Words came to her, but left just as quickly.  Instead she nodded emphatically. James was immediately struck by a pang of regret.

“Mm,” he said. “Come up here and kiss me first. I would rather you here than there to begin with.”

“I’ve no doubt,” she snorted, though she wasted no time in entwining her arms around his shoulders.  “I am trying to acclimate you.”

“If you insist on going down there, I’d prefer to have a degree of control,” James retorted, leaning back to embrace her properly and kiss her.

“We’ve established I don’t mind that-”

“I’ve noticed.” He looked rather amused by this, in fact.

“Do you remember- in Tortuga, you said to me, early on, ‘You don’t have to be the Pirate King in here,’” said Elizabeth distantly.

“Mm. Yes, I think so-”

“It seems,” she said, with the utmost seriousness, “that you really meant it.”

“What does that mean-”

“Did you want a degree of control?”

“I try not to think of it.”

“Usually, from you,” she said cannily, “that means you do want it.”

“I mean,” he said, with a laugh as he looked at her, “that I try not to think of any of it at all. It’s bothersome at best-”

“You’re so boring, James,” she complained, pushing her aggrieved fingers through his wavy hair.  “I think about it as often as I can spare. It’s such a welcome reprieve from the chores of daily life.”

“Ah- keep doing that. In any case, I suppose you don’t find it a chore in itself-”

“What, basket-making? Don’t be absurd.”

“We have not yet made any baskets,” James groused, “and I expect you will find that more of a chore than you think when the option arrives.”

“I don’t see how that’s possible,” said Elizabeth, pressing their bodies still more closely together. “When we’ve been together and you are near me like this I think I am going to pass out from how much I want to have you in me.”

James grit his teeth and gasped.

“The feeling is mutual-”

“Besides - if I need finishing,” she baited him, a smile hovering over her lips, “you’ll finish me, won’t you?”

“Yes-”

He had turned his face away from hers.

Elizabeth gently tugged where her hand was still in his hair.

“James. What is it? What’s the matter.”

“Nothing is the matter,” he said. “I'm a bit sore, that's all. Don't worry about me, please. Last night must have been rather a lot-”

“Changing the subject away from intercourse, when we were just about to have it - that’s a matter all right.”

“Am I not allowed to wish to treasure you a little first-”

“I feel a little oppressed by your treasuring,” said Elizabeth testily.  “It begins to sound like excuses.”

“If it's an inability you fear,” said James, “I would have thought you noticed that my body is more than prepared for such an activity-”

“A reluctance of the spirit,” she said.  She longed to touch him again, but forced herself to keep her hands well above his waist until she had ascertained the truth of his discomfort; she could not force him.

James noticed this, and gently- almost apologetically- took her hand by the wrist and moved it downward.

“I would rather look you in the eye.”

“Going to be somewhat difficult, don’t you think?”

“Then that's the matter.”

Elizabeth withdrew her hand in some reluctance, but she did not feel comfortable floating through this activity unbothered; there were things that had to be addressed, first of all, and she was perplexed by his seeming dislike of her seeing to his pleasure - which, in being denied opportunity to do so, had become more of an object to her recently than achieving her own, which was a feat in and of itself.

“James,” she said plaintively.

“If you insist on it,” he said, taking hold of her hair again, “then get back down there, and we’ll have done for it.”

“Not if you’re going to behave like this about it -”  Elizabeth bit her lip and twisted a little in his grasp, her emotional turmoil making her physically restless.  “At least tell me why you don’t like it-”

“I've told you,” he said. “I prefer bringing you off, that's all.”

“It ruins my pleasure to have you forsake yours,” said Elizabeth coaxingly.  “You enjoy it, why can’t I?”

“Elizabeth,” he said.”It's only a preference. Please don't trouble yourself about it-”

“Well, it’s a burden to me,” she said, pulling a face.  “I want to make you want me… I want to overwhelm you as you do me.”

“I do not wish to be overwhelmed,” he said, after a long pause. “It's uncomfortably like being drunk.”

Elizabeth looked unbearably cranky.

“You like being drunk,” she said peevishly.

“Only in the moment,” he shot back.

“You seem to like the anticipation of it, too, but not this.”  It was clear her mood had taken a turn for the foul, and a sharp one at that, since she had moments ago been dewy-eyed and leaning on him.  Now her posture was stiff and her movements all harsh. Her hand was still in his hair, but it rested there unmoving as stone.

“I don't know about that. I drank a great deal last night and am all the worse for it today, as evidenced by the grabbing you by the hair and dragging you downward like some kind of beast-”

“I think I would have remembered if that had happened-”

“You fell silent- I feared I had hurt you, frightened you in some way-”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” Elizabeth cried out, unwilling to hide her disgust with this new inanity - she pulled her hands away from him with a swiftness that bordered on cruelty, even though she did not hurt him in any way.

James, for his part, did not move- only watched her.

“If you insist,” he said, more than a little peevishly at this point, “then you may get down there and handle the matter yourself. That's what you want, isn't it-”

“No, it’s not,” she said heatedly.  “I just want -”

She cut herself off from speaking any further on that subject, and glared at him fiercely.

James sat up and watched her for a moment, waiting for her to say something. He was still at attention, and felt unspeakably grotesque for it. He tried to conceal it by tilting his hips to one side and pulling up the covers.

“I know what I want,” he said, “but I am disgusted by my wanting it. With myself, most of all.”

Elizabeth’s shoulders sagged.  She was trying to keep up her anger, but, as was typical from her, as soon as the opportunity came to put it aside, she couldn’t help it.

“Why? That’s - that’s all I want from you.  I just want to be wanted.”

“I do want you- I've even told you how-”

“Every time I indicate how much I want to attend to you, you reject me-”

“I don't want to be rendered helpless, Elizabeth-”

“I thought that was the entire point of your directing me!”

“That's different- that's- good God, Elizabeth, I don't want to-”

He took a deep breath to steady himself before he said something he would regret.

Like the suggestion that her husband was still on board if she'd prefer.

“I don't derive the pleasure from that you expect me to,” James said, in a carefully even voice. “I struggle to maintain the personal desire for it even as my body makes a crude show of it. Directing you felt as though I might be able to pull you off when I chose- make it a game- and instead you seemed so shocked and compliant that I felt ashamed of having desired it at all. If that's what you desire, then I will have you back down there before you leave this room again, and try not to regret my enjoyment if I do- but at least permit me my concern, especially after the discovery that I am far less prudent when drunk.”

He laughed bitterly. “I apologize if that makes me defective to you in some way.”

“It does,” she said shortly.

“I thought I had frightened you.”

Elizabeth was warring with her own desire to fling into his face that this was the very reason she had not wanted to marry him - something she had anticipated enjoying with Will - but at that all meanness fled, leaving her without much energy, but considerably less ill will.

Miserably, she said, “You hadn’t.”

“Your face went so blank, so slack- I thought you were resigned, at best.”

She put her arms around his shoulders again, shakily.  “I was aroused, you colossal idiot.”

“That isn't how you are usually inclined towards showing it-”

“My brain just…”

She made a little twisting gesture with her fingers.

“- turned off, like a phone.”

“In a good way, I hope-”

“In a very good way-”

“-ah.”

He paused.

“Do you still want to try-”

“Do you? You’ve just explained to me you feel no personal desire for me-”

“You misunderstood me- good God, I want you to the point of preoccupation-”

“But you don’t want to.”

“Elizabeth?”

She tossed her hair, tilting her head to meet his eyes confrontationally.

“...you don't suppose I could have a go between your thighs, do you? I can't guarantee it will be of much use to you, but unfortunately, what I would most prefer is impossible at the moment.”

“Why is that so much preferable to what I wanted?”

“I can look at you, for one,” said James.

Elizabeth tried to give him a frank look, but a smile broke through regardless.  A little embarrassed, she managed only, “Oh?”

“Rather more personal than shoving you down between my legs, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Will you forget it’s me if you can’t look into my eyes? I’m curious-”

“I prefer sharing the moment, that’s all.”

“Fine,” said Elizabeth, perhaps touchily, and perhaps also to hide her smile.  “May I get you started, though?”

“Yes,” he said, “though you'll find I'm rather far along-”

“What, even through this conversation,” said Elizabeth dubiously, moving her hand to between his legs again.  The same slack expression of surprise came into her face.  

“It's been rather trying,” James said flatly.

“So why do you still-” she started, even as she started on him with her hand - gently at first, but still having to shut her eyes.

“-yes?”

He was not entirely comfortable with this, but kept his face carefully blank lest she opened her eyes and got a good look at him again. It was worth it for her sake.

“Mm- why are you still…? Nevermind,” she said, biting her lip and smiling as she looked up at him again.  This was what he’d said he wanted - to look at her.

“Dulling it takes time,” James said vaguely.

“So that’s why the sailor prefers to roll over and go to sleep, rather than fantasize about the girl he left behind,” she teased him.  Her touch remained gentle - she wanted to feel him desperately, but she did not want to help him too far along, if he were going to go between her legs again.

“Now you begin to understand-“

“But you don’t have to dull it anymore, James,” she whispered, nearly kissing him.  “You have me now.  Let me take care of you.”

“Don’t- Elizabeth-“

He began to laugh, embarrassed, and covered his face.

Elizabeth put both of her arms around him now, but more vexed than truly comforting.  “What is it-”

“It’s nothing-“

“Nothing? You can’t look me in the eye-”

“You’ve got me at a disadvantage.”

“What’s that, that you’re aroused?  I would hate to be the one to inform you, but so am I-”

“I know-“

He looked at her, bleary-eyed and grinning.

“Good heavens, it’s not so much, Elizabeth- you needn’t think of it as taking care of me.”

“My sweet Captain,” said Elizabeth, matching his grin, “I don’t. I think of it is as fucking you, and I love it.”

“You haven’t yet,” he said, leaning his head back and closing his eyes. “We haven’t the necessary equipment for that yet, either-“

“You don’t think this is - ? You cannot be serious.  What is it between men, then - on an equivalency to hand-holding?”

“You’ll have to ask Theo about that one. I wouldn’t know; I was not in the habit of regular conversation with anyone with whom- well.”

“This was what I feared, when we were engaged,” Elizabeth finally blurted, after a long while of holding her tongue, even when she had been angrier.  “That my instinct proved correct, and you were about as erotic as a dead fish.”

“Elizabeth,” he said, “you’re lucky I had the sense to avoid getting you with child.”

“You don’t even want to let me take your cock into my mouth,” she argued.

He lifted his head in alarm at her language but chose not to comment on it.

“What am I supposed to do, rut you senseless like it’s two years ago in Tortuga all over again-“

“I just want you to be senseless every so often,” she said wistfully. “To be overwhelmed and to like it.  I want to be - happy together.”

“I’m already happy,” he said, a little woundedly.

“I want you to be happy in our bed as well as out of it,” she retorted.  “Not that I have ever seen you happy outside of this cabin-”

“I am happy in our bed-”

“You are tense and nervous and disgruntled in our bed.”

“Presently, I’m still at attention in our bed,” he said dryly.

“And the reason why you are still at attention instead of sated and lazy is because you feel no personal desire that you have not tried to stifle-”

“Believe me,” he said heavily, “my desire is feeling extremely unsatisfied at present.”

“Put your hand back in my hair.”

“Elizabeth?”

“You heard me.”

After a moment, though, she pressed a hand to his chest, urgently.

“I don’t mean it. I mean, I do mean it, but - there are no consequences if you don’t wish to do it-”

James grabbed her hair in his fist and yanked her downward.

Elizabeth gasped, but came to her senses almost immediately - enough to recall his comfort before seeing to her own, though she was reluctant to wait.

“May I, then-”

“I’m not asking you to talk-”

She needed little encouragement after that.  She had wanted him greedily and unreasonably since they had been drunk the night before, and being given the opportunity, she did not plan to squander it- not that James gave her much room to do so. He held her body in place with one leg and her head between his hands, her hair still clenched in one of them, as he urged her along in silence punctuated by the rare gasp or word of approval.

If he supposed he could have no means of ascertaining her enjoyment, he did not count on how greatly she would enjoy it.  Elizabeth clutched at his hips and his thighs enough to leave a few bruises, and she moaned her delight - not intentionally, but because she could not help herself.  If this was what James called ‘using her’, he was permitted to do so as often as he liked.

James lifted his hand to pry hers away.

“I did not ask you for- nnn- that-”

It was difficult to get a grip on him that both of them were satisfied with, but the negotiation was worthwhile. When it was finished, James silently released her hair and let his hands fall to his sides.

Elizabeth was ungraciously wiping her mouth on the back of her wrist, but she looked starry-eyed when she gazed back up at him.

“Well?”

“Nn. Give me a moment, I'm rather spent.”

“I should know.”

“Were it not for the delay, I would drag you back down there this instant.”

Elizabeth flopped back against the pillow, looking up at him smugly.

“And did you feel so very helpless, Captain?”

“Not particularly,” he said, looking up toward the ceiling.

“Come down here and thank me,” Elizabeth purred.

“No- you're going to come up here,” he said firmly, with another tug for emphasis.  She sat up, stretching her arms above her head.  It was fairly clear that, amenable though she was, she was as easy to control now as the weather.

“Go on, then.”

James pulled her down and kissed her possessively, tightening his grip on her hair to push her mouth to his.

“Is this what you want?”

“Can’t say I mind-” she breathed.

“That will do.”

He turned her down into the cot beneath him.

“James,” she murmured into his mouth, though she took her sweet time in finishing her thought, “Kiss me on my neck again, please?”

He did not object to this- in fact, he set to his task with relish.

“Remove my shirt-” Elizabeth moaned, tilting her head back and lifting her arms to help him.

“I'm working on it-”

“Take your time,” she said idly.  She shivered when the shirt came up over her head, though not from cold. She touched him on the chest a lingering moment, as though contemplating his body, and then sank silently into his arms, burying her face against him, just holding him close.

James dragged her up for another kiss. She returned it tenderly, sinking her fingers into his hair.

“You’re mine, aren’t you?” she asked wonderingly, meeting his eyes.  “Really mine.”

“...likewise,” he said softly, “yes?”

“Entirely, I think.  I don’t understand it myself.”

“You've mentioned that,” he said, a little desperately.

“I want no man but you.  I don’t even want a woman.  If the thought appeals to me in the abstract, it is not really serious enough to detract from wanting you.  And I barely feel guilt over it.  Even when I think that I should, I can’t persuade myself to.  I simply want you, over and over again.  In bed and in battle and on a beach some day, when it is not raining.  And I think something else, too.”

“What else do you think of?” James asked softly.

“I think we were always meant to be together,” she confessed.

“I don't- I'm not certain that's how it works,” said James. “I believe that in some way I was destined to love you, but I do not believe that you were always meant to return it.”

“I do. I was,” she insisted.  “Everything that’s happened has thrown us together in the most unlikely way - as though fate were determined to have us together.”

James watched her for a moment, as though waiting for her to begin laughing

When she didn't, he kissed her again- joyfully this time, with a surprised cry of happiness.  Elizabeth wrapped her arms around him tightly, returning the kiss with near biting enthusiasm.  

The topic was important to her - it was how she had always felt about Will, and perhaps the transfer of this belief from Will to James had assuaged much of her guilt about choosing the latter, as well as whatever twinges of the emotion she had when she thought of Jenny or Angelica a little too long.  But, most of all, it was important to believe that James - and her father - had not been wrong to hope for this union, and had pursued it for nothing.  She wanted to believe her father would be happy to see them together at last, and to bring order to a life which had been uprooted in every way - both his and her own.  

But it did seem likely - the way they had fallen in love in Tortuga, the way she had come to save his life, as though directed by a higher power, was surely not usual.  The fact that they had been engaged at a point where it might have been a disastrous ill match, but had been thrown together again at a point where they could meet as something closer to equals (and if not equals, when Elizabeth, not James, was the more powerful of the two) - these things could not be an accident.  If she had married James then, not only would she have been unhappy, but she would have made him miserable - and Will would never have had a chance to be reunited with his father.  No, everything had surely happened as it must - and now she was with the man she was meant to be with, her soul-mate, the man her dearly beloved father had chosen for her future happiness, because he had waited for her, and proven his love by waiting, as she had proven her worth by becoming a pirate lord in the meantime, and recognized his by choosing him.

“Elizabeth,” he said, clasping her hands in his. “Elizabeth…”

It wrenched her sharply out of her fantasy to see the naked joy on his face and feel guilt at it, even now.

“Yes, James?”

“It's nothing- please, just let me say it-”

“Say whatever you like,” she murmured.

“-just Elizabeth,” he said softly, before kissing her again.

Elizabeth toppled them both backwards, all the better to let him feel the weight of her and know she was his own. James groaned a little- his headache had not yet dissipated- but he began to laugh anyway.

“Careful-”

“I’m always careful,” she said, affronted.

James mmmmed loudly but let the matter rest. He pushed his hands back into her hair with a pensive smile.  Elizabeth ended up rolling off him and pulling him to his side so that she could continue to kiss him more comfortably.  She had no aim, no finish in mind; the matter was less obvious for her than it was for a man; she just wanted nothing more than to hold him very close and to kiss him as though she could drink him in, and wanted to be drunk.

“My apologies for the undoglike behavior,” he laughed against her lips. “Is this- would you like more of this?”

“More of your mouth, more of your kisses-? Of course-”

“More of my force-“

“More of your enthusiasm, to be certain. The forcefulness - well, it is a fun sort of game, really.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Well, I am your Captain, am I not?”

“I certainly don’t expect you to carry on like this before the crew.”

“Mm, I like you to be a man with me, James, but not a master,” she said fondly, before gripping his hair tightly again. “I may not be a man, but I am your master. There should only be one of each, between the two of us, I think.”

“Ah- all right, noted-“

She took advantage of her grip on him by kissing his bared throat.

“You know,” James began, gazing up at the ceiling again, “on consideration I find myself less opposed to the idea of that swan tattoo-“

“Yeah? Where shall you get it?  I have some ideas,” said Elizabeth - gliding her hand down his stomach teasingly.

“Elizabeth-“

“That would be so scandalous and none would ever see it but I-”

“How would they tell I’m yours, then, when we are apart-“

“Must we be apart? You’re giving up the Gloriana to be by my side and in my bed.”

“I’ll probably have to go out and do your bidding from time to time.”

“Oh, true enough. I don’t suppose you could tell them yourself?”

“I’m not exposing anyone but you to that much of myself, tattooed or not,” James retorted.

“That will have to satisfy me.  And, I find it does, now that I think on it.  I want you to belong to only me.”

He smiled tiredly. “I thought it might.”

“Then at least I know you are finally, finally convinced of the depth of my feelings for you.”

“You should know by now that I want nothing else as much as to be yours.”

Her fingers in his hair turned as coddling as they were possessive.  She opened her mouth so as to speak, but nothing came to mind, and so, after a moment of this, she shut her mouth, and smiled and shook her head gently, as though conceding the speechlessness contentment and bliss had brought her to.

“And you can have your damned earring,” he added, before kissing her.

Elizabeth smiled so hard into this kiss that she had difficulty returning it. James noticed and rolled her on top of him with a warm, satisfied laugh.

“I want…”

“Yes, darling?”

“I want the world to see the way you have affected me,” he said softly.

“You mean you want to look dangerous,” she said, with a wicked showing of her teeth.

“It wouldn’t hurt anything,” James said, grinning back.

“My darling Captain.”  She pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed it.  “I confess, I am impatient for it.”

“Not dangerous enough for your taste yet, I presume?”

“For the two of us to do something fun,” she clarified.  “I miss raiding.  I should like to do it with you sometime.”

“A suitable target, I hope,” James said, very seriously.

“Oh, darling, let’s get one of Beckett’s,” she said with bright, misty eyes.

“I will purloin you another crew.”

She kissed him as if he had told her he planned to pick her a bouquet of wildflowers. James meshed both hands into her hair and guided her along the way, but he was gentler this time- more lingering.

The kiss, which had begun almost affectedly chaste, deepened gradually with time.

James released her hair from one hand and let it glide down her back instead, until it found her backside. He gripped it- lightly, teasingly, but a grip all the same.

“When they write the ballads in years to come, they will recall that I turned pirate in your bed…”

Elizabeth laughed in response, low and sultry.  She pulled back just enough to turn her eyes up to his, stealing a glance in secret, unabashed pleasure.

“Lord, our reputations are really sealed in stone, aren’t they?”

“I don’t expect to be anything but an addendum to your story.”

“You a degenerate. Me a whore.”

“You, an outlaw woman-king-”

“And a whore,” she said, her mood perhaps a little less pleased.  “I know what people think like.”

“People think that of queens who began their lives as princesses as well,” James reminded her.

She thought of the English queen whose name she shared and tried to cheer herself up a bit.  “Yeah, I suppose,” she said, a bit more brightly. His hand helped.  “I don’t mind being your…. “  No good; even at her bawdiest she could not say that.  “...I do not mind being yours.”

“You’re more of a bride regardless,” James said offhandedly. “You came to me good as one regardless-“

“I know,” she said, and briefly smiled, radiant as one. “But that’s not what the ballads will say.”

“Are you so certain?” he asked, as he began to bend his head toward her neck and kissed her collarbone. “You’ve demonstrated a rather imperious fidelity to your- mm, what did you suggest? Your werewolf lover-“

“I’ve been held captive by two pirate lords,” she said rather loudly.  “Married once now.  After being engaged to you first.  Then there’s the curious ambiguity of my situation with Jack.  I’m afraid I shall never convince anyone I was a maid before now.”

“They’re as likely to consider you soiled and vengeful about it as anything else.”

“I suppose it’s for the best. To be honest,” she said, and realizing this cheered and relieved her immensely, “I would rather that rumor than the truth be known.  Elizabeth Swann a maid, even her husband having had no pleasure off her-”

“Give me another fifteen minutes and I shall make you less of one,” James cut in.

“Oh, sweet boy, there is yet one particular quality of maidenhood you cannot ease me out of,” she crooned, touching his cheek gently with one hand - and sliding the other down her own thighs.

“Lie back and we'll see about that…”

“I think you might see something.  Sit up.”

“No interest in my going between your thighs, then?”

She pushed him backward daintily with one foot, which should capture his attention - and give him a fairly good vantage point when she began to glide her fingertips over herself and smirk at him.

“Elizabeth, what is-“

“Do you want to help me ease the trousers off? I cannot guarantee you shall be allowed anything but a view, but-”

“Elizabeth!”

“I don’t think you can convince me you wouldn’t enjoy it,” said Elizabeth, wriggling out of them.

“If it's all the same to you, I'd rather participate-”

“Oh,” she said breathlessly, fast on her way to being quite naked; “would you?”

“It will certainly hold my attention better-”

“We’ll see.”

Elizabeth put her foot on his thigh, forbidding silently that he should move from where he sat, and met his eyes as she glided her hand over her pelvis.  She touched her lips with her tongue, almost nervously, and then her mouth opened and she let out a small moan.

“Oh, my God-”

James had to look away.

“James! I command you to pay me - the attention and the respect I am owed, both as your captain and as your woman-”

“ELIZABETH.”

“Please, James,” she pleaded.

“I don't- I don't fully understand-”

He looked at her in apprehensive anguish.

“I just want - I want you to see-”

“I'm not sure I can- react appropriately-”

“All I want you to do is watch me - and perhaps- later -”

“Let me-”

“Perhaps later-” she said, out of breath - as much from shyness as anything else; she was hardly touching herself yet, not without reassurance that he wouldn’t look away - “you might - think on it-”

“I don’t want to think of it later,” he said, attempting to maneuver himself out from behind her leg so he could lay beside her, and finding it difficult. “I want to assist you- now-”

“I’m asking you to let me show you - perhaps you’ll - have some advice - and - if you would like to assist-”

Elizabeth swept her hair off her neck with her other hand and pushed her shoulders back, tilting her head and extending her neck.  “- will you - will you put your hand here -”

“Yes-”

He clapped his hand, more roughly than intended, to the side of her throat, and then quickly relaxed it again to support the back of her neck.

“Will this help-”

“Will you touch me - just here, and…”  She trailed her fingers down and over her breasts.

“May I kiss you?”

“I want you to watch me-”

“Are you certain?” He pressed his lips to her shoulder- a safe place, he assumed, to test the waters.

“Yes-” she moaned, but it was momentarily ambiguous as to whether or not this was an answer.

“Absolutely?” Her throat now.

“You may kiss me later,” she said, and now the moan in her voice was slightly petulant.

“If you insist. I was prepared to move downward, you know.”

“I do insist. You know that I do, why are you trying to weasel your way out of it-”

She had stopped what she was doing on account of the lull in his attention.  He sapped all the fun out of it.

“I thought I might intensify things-”

“Wait,” she said, now more irritated than anything else. “Until you’re asked for.”

“Am I still permitted to touch you?”

“You are, but I may rescind that- if you keep misbehaving-”

“Misbehaving? Is that what you call it?” he asked, trailing one finger along the underside of her breast.

She made a soft, indecipherable noise.

“If you can’t be patient,” she amended, in a more tender tone of voice.

“Not an hour ago, you were furious with the thought that I did not want you,” James said, as he moved that finger along to the other breast.

“I never really doubted that you wanted me,” said Elizabeth now, pushing herself up onto her elbows.  “Just perhaps that you did not want me as I want you - there’s a difference.  You are a little aloof, James.”

“Mmm. Well, you may remove that from your concerns, madam. You have my full-”

He curved his hand up and squeezed.

“-attention.”

“I had better,” she murmured, laying back down again almost sleepily. “You had better watch.”

“I don't know when I'll be ready,” he said, with a significant downward gesture.

“That doesn’t matter-”

“Fortunately for you, I haven't eyes for anything else,” James said, arranging himself to watch her.

The result of having to talk him into it was that Elizabeth was now a little shy about it.

“So why did you mind before-”

“I have to remind myself I'm not prying.”

Elizabeth lay back on the bed with a nervous hum.  It made her feel slightly better to slide her foot back into his lap in the process of parting her legs again; at least she could distract herself teasing him. James watched and felt his confidence eroding more and more the wider her legs spread.

“Should I be… er- taking notes-”

“Shh.  Let me look at you.”

“-yes, Elizabeth.” He swallowed, hard.

That made it easier - watching his throat jump like that - that made her want to do it.

“You- you have me at a tremendous loss-”

She shut her eyes for a moment, fancying she could hear his tremulous breathing.  Most likely untrue, but it did help.  “Oh, James-” she murmured, almost inaudibly.

“Elizabeth,” he said, so flustered his voice came close to cracking, “I could help if you liked-”

“You’re doing enough,” she sighed dismissively, leaning her head back.  That was true; James in this state did more for her than all of the other stimulations in the world.

“This feels unforgivably decadent,” he said, eyes widening.

“No, then there’d - oh - there would be - you would peek at me through veils-”

Elizabeth was still quick with words, but it was taking more and more concentration to be so.

“As though you’re on display for my- er- benefit-”

“I am-”

“Oh, God- Elizabeth, I'm not ready- I actually feel quite pleased, thank you-”

Oh, he was flustered, all right- flustered enough that he began laughing at his own foolishness and covered his eyes in embarrassment.

“Mm,” she complained, opening her own eyes in time to see him bury his.  “Do you want to assist me, James?” she asked breathily, turning her foot to dig her heel into his thigh, a nudge to get his attention.

“I certainly might be more effective that way,” he said, lowering his hand to look at her. “I fear we have some time before I’m of much use otherwise.”

“I can - nnh - delay my gratification-” she said, and the motion of her hand slowed.  “I thought I told you to look-”

“I think,” James said gently, “it will have the effect you desire on me if we wait until then.”

“Oh, very well,” she said, a little sleepily, but game.  “Come here and clean my hands.”

James slid up beside her and picked up his discarded shirt to wipe her off, punctuating the gesture with a little kiss to her forehead.

“Now help me dress…”

“Oh, are we finished? I do enjoy looking at you this way.”

She flushed and beamed at him, sitting up a little shakily - she was rather far along, with no closure in sight. “I feel exposed,” she said, without any self-recrimination or even any irony.

“Would you have me finish you?” he asked, putting his arm around her to support her.

“Not if there’s a chance that…”

“Hmm? Darling, you seem a little unsteady-”

“You made me an offer earlier,” she said, putting her arm around his shoulders just to pull him close enough to lick his ear.

“I can do more than that,” he reminded her. “You're not as easily winded as I may be.”

“Perhaps I want to make you wait,” she teased him.

“I haven't much choice at the moment,” he said, giving her ear a little reciprocal nip.

“To please me-”

James kissed her forehead again.

“You're burning up, sweetheart.”

“I am not.”

“Are you certain you want to wait?”

“I am certain that I want to drive you mad,” she said, kissing him slowly.

“Lisbet-”

He laughed against her lips. “Lisbet, it's not that, it's… it won't have the effect that you think. I can't- a man can't be driven mad for a certain period after his last exertion. It's not only a matter of whether or not he may stand at attention-”

“Then I’lll wait-”

“Very well. I only hate to see you suffer.”

“I don’t suffer,” she said, smirk widening.  “You hate nothing. You enjoy pleasing me.”

“At present, I’m afraid I can't enjoy anything much more intensely than smiling and nodding.”

“Come here, then, and enjoy my smiles,” she said, reaching to stroke his hair again.

“Gladly,” he said. “You may have mine in return, but I doubt they are quite so dazzling.”

“Your doubt is misplaced,” she murmured.

He laughed again, leaning his forehead on hers. “Well, I suppose you were hardly more sober than I was.”

“I remember last night better,” she pointed out.

“That would certainly explain your looking better than I suppose I must.”

“You’re beautiful,” she argued, before thinking better of it.

James met her eye for a moment, grinning with flattered pleasure.

“I’m not making an argument for my own ruination,” he said, “only a lapse in judgement last night. I’ll accept the compliment.”

“You do nothing without my permission,” she said, extremely pleased, pulling his hand to her heartbeat.  “The fault is mine, darling.”

“And what fault is that-”

“For letting you drink-”

“It would appear to have been a good time for all involved. I forgive you.”

“Mmm, show me.”

“How’s this-“

He kissed her, vehemently and open-mouthed. James was still some minutes away from being able to react as much as they would both like, but knowing that this would have an effect on her was its own satisfaction.

Elizabeth had not expected that - not when he was acting so spent.  She arched upwards against him, gasping his name.

“Were it not for the risk, I would have you as soon as I am able-“

“Mm, what if -”

“Hm-”

“- I want you,” she said quickly, shyly.  “We could risk it-”

“Even if I were to get you with child?” James asked, leaning in toward her again.

“We’ve -” She kissed him. “- discussed this-”

“Elizabeth, I…”

He hesitated, the same old litany of concerns playing on a loop in his mind.

“I- if you’re certain, Elizabeth, I don’t think anything could make me happier than to have a child with you-”

“Why is this always the first place your mind goes,” she complained.

“Because neither of us is diseased,” he said dryly, “so that’s out of our concern.”

“Yes, but-” She snorted in displeasure.  It was not a fun distraction, thinking about raising a child, foggy and unfamiliar though the idea was.  Thinking of carrying one was even worse.  

“I suppose I could try to withdraw in time,” James murmured, “though- well.”

He gestured at himself.

“Do you prefer to wait for a quondam,” she asked gently, cupping his cheek.

“No-” he said, a little too quickly.

Then:

“...but speaking practically, yes.”

She smiled at him, perhaps a little disappointed, but overall visibly content.

“Then we shall.”

“More’s the pity,” said James, who was more than a little disappointed himself. “You're certain-”

“We’ve managed this long,” she said gamely, struggling to maintain the facade of a self-sacrificing good mood.

“I know,” he groaned. “Believe me, I have searched for a substitute-”

“I like the things we do,” she said with an affronted sniff.

“As do I. You know that.”

“Then why are you so dissatisfied?”

“Dissatisfied is the wrong word,” said James. “It is more of a longing.”

“There you go, being poetic again,” she said drily - before she could take it back.  It was a defensive manoeuver, always responding with sarcasm when James had done some romantic thing she could not possibly reciprocate.

“It is what one might eventually have done with a wife, after all-”

“You did not think about this when you wanted me for your wife,” she reminded him with a wry smile.

“Through great effort alone,” said James. “And perhaps- well, one day. Presumably far in the future, we may still-”

Elizabeth sat up, blindly reaching around for her clothes.

“Hm?”

“-marry.”

“Very far, I would imagine,” she said musingly, but without a great deal of thought.

“Far enough to make dwelling on it foolish.”

Elizabeth pulled her shirt on lazily, one sleeve at a time, but could not bother to button it just yet.  She fingercombed her hair over one shoulder, picking out the tangles left there from this most recent romp, reminiscing fondly on how they’d got there - both his strong, broad hands buried in her hair and urging her on while he arched underneath her - her name on his lips and his pleasure on hers.

It made her beam up at him a little slyly.

“You know,” she said, “I like it when you call me ‘Lisbet.’”

James grinned. “I shall make an effort to recall that.”

“I’ve never been Lisbet before,” she said wistfully.  “It makes me feel… It reminds me that I am only yours.”

She was not certain she was anyone’s, but it would not be worthwhile to tell him so.

“Surely you're not dressing already,” he said as he sat up himself. He had been momentarily distracted in watching her.

“I feel naked,” she said bluntly.

“For what it's worth,” said James, “I like you naked.”

“I thought you liked me in trousers, dressed up like a sailor…”

“I enjoy both, but one is decidedly easier to have you in.”

“To have me, you mean,” said Elizabeth, tone light.

“I certainly won't object to trousers, if that's what you prefer.”

“Yeah, but kind of difficult to have me in trousers, hmm? Without making a mess.”

“Mm, yes, rather.”

She reached for them anyway.

“Must I do everything myself around here?” James grumbled, reaching toward his own crotch and gauging her reaction.

One of her lovely eyebrows lifted, and her smile grew perhaps a touch smug, but she did not comment. James was, of course, still not quite ready to begin with, and leaned back against the wall, still seated in bed.

“Well,” he said, “by all means, don't let me keep you.”

“Oh, no, now you’ve raised my interest-”

“It will have to wait all the same. Your trousers will not diminish my interest, believe me.”

“James,” she laughed.

“Yes, Lisbet?”

Her gaze grew tender.  “James,” she repeated, leaning across the bed to kiss him.

“Mm- yes, darling?”

“Just let me say it,” she whispered to tease him, and kissed him again.

“Ah-”

He was still bleary-eyed, but positively beaming between kisses.

“Have at me, then, my stubborn little sailor…”

She whispered his name as she kissed him, guiding, first, his hand to her breast, and then sliding hers between his legs.

“Forgive me if I am slow to react…”

“Forgiven,” she said primly.  “Thank you for permitting this…”

“The pleasure is mine-“

“Not that it is really yours to permit me,” she said, with a flash of hungry teeth.  “You belong to me, body and soul-”

James laughed. “Oh, of course. It’s mutual, isn’t it?”

“Yes-” Elizabeth gasped.  He might have been slow to react, but she wasn’t.

“Oh- mm. Good, then-“

She moved closer then, parting his legs and sitting between them, her free hand roaming along his bare torso idly while she kissed him.  If his body was hers, she would act like it.

“You poor creature, you must still be on fire-“

“I am!” she laughed, or cried, against his mouth.  “Good Christ-”

“I’ll have to finish you next-“

“You can go between my legs again - if you want,” she said, turning her eyes up to his quickly.

“Mm- that may take too much time. I would not see you forced to wait any longer-“

“I want to wait for you-” she insisted.

“I could try to manage it now if you would like-“

“Not yet,” said Elizabeth.  “When you beg for it- then we can.”

“You had better make it slow, then-”

��Take as long as you like,” said Elizabeth, kissing him on the neck now.  “I’ll be here.”

“And you're certain that will bring you off? I would hate to make you- nnn- wait again-”

“I think a breeze would finish me- If there’s so much as a draft in here, it’ll finish our fun prematurely-”

“Fortunately for you,” said James, as he semi-blindly groped forward to pull on her shirt, “you're easier to start up again than I-”

“Start up again? But I never stopped-”

“Were a breeze to finish you-”

His words cut off in a harsh, biting sound as he gasped and grit his teeth, eyes wide, though not precisely disturbed or displeased.

“Where did you learn to do this?”

“Uh, here, you brilliant mastermind.”

“You're rather good at it.”

James was trying to be dry, but it was difficult under the circumstances. He pushed Elizabeth's shirt off of one of her shoulders.

“Take hold of my hair, will you? I’ve not grown it for you to ignore it at a crucial moment such as this-”

“Oh, darling,” said Elizabeth in a swoon, though her grip was firm and punishing and her smile was cruel and playful.  “Forgive me my negligence. You know I am still unused to these matters.  I get so distracted so easily.”

“You’re- ah- forgiven-”

“I can’t seem to help myself.  You know how I love doting on your prick-”

“I’ve noticed.”

“- you could dissuade me, you know. Try being less provocative-”

“-oh, so I’m provoking you now-”

“Biggest tease on the ocean.”

“The better to render the family name good and blackened-”

“Biggest something else on the ocean too,” she murmured; “or perhaps that’s only the limits of my imagination-“

“That's- you've a bias,” James blurted, going red in the face.

“Just can’t imagine they get any bigger.  Hard enough to get the whole thing in my-”

“Oh my God.”

“I’ll have to work on it.”

“It's- I've heard that attribute is of no real consequence,” James said awkwardly. “It's something men crudely brag of in taverns to win fights, and of no value beyond that-”

Elizabeth smirked at him, like a cat presented suddenly with a saucer of cream.  

“Your modesty in this matter does much to assure me my assumption is correct.  You would only inform me - with so much humility and shyness as this - of the irrelevance of that attribute if you knew you possessed it.”

“I don't want you to think it's beyond disappointment-”

“James,” she said, with great majesty composing her features into a more frank expression. “I hope you understand me. I know very well the disappointments you are capable of.”

“Not- gah!- all of them!”

“No? Surely I am. Your oppressive good manners, your projected blandness, your morbid detachment from carnal matters-”

“Must you call it morbid-”

“As one dead, Captain.”

“Does this feel dead to you!?”

Elizabeth could not hold back her smile forever, not when her teasing found so soft and easy a target.

“No,” she said softly, leaning in closer and rubbing him more slowly.  “Not at all.”

“Christ,” he said, “I should hope not-”

She thought of her experience with dead men and brushed it off.  

“Show me,” she murmured; “kiss me.”

“Don't let me go,” said James, and he did.

Oh, she loved him. Good Christ, how she loved him.

Elizabeth felt a stab of pleasure go through her like bright, sticky lightning and gasped against his lips.

“I think I'm sufficiently prepared,” James whispered into her open mouth. “Lie down, dearest-”

She didn’t need a second telling.  She did not quite lie down, though, leaning up on her elbows because she couldn’t take her eyes off him.  His hair hung in short, tousled waves around his face - eyes all the more interesting with his tan - and she couldn’t stop looking at that face she had known so well, and somehow only recently discovered was so handsome it made her heart beat faster to see him smiling, just for her. James began to maneuver himself into position and then stopped, though he rubbed the inside of her thigh to assure her that he was in no way reluctant.

“Darling?”

“Yes?” she asked, nearly panting, cupping his cheek so that she could keep taking in the sight of him.

“Do you want to be on top?”

“Oh,” she exclaimed.  “If - if you think- if it’s safe-”

“It might be safer. Gravity and all that-”

Elizabeth was already pushing him down and straddling him, too enthusiastic to notice she’d been a bit rough.

“Careful-” James blurted, but he was too busy laughing to imbue it with much authority.

Elizabeth let out a loud sigh.

“I don’t tire of that-” she gasped, when she could manage words.  “James, Christ-”

“What now-”

“What do you think-”

“I’m flummoxed.” It doubled as a convenient euphemism.

“James,” she said, exasperated - more than a little physically overwhelmed.  She had been wanting a long time, and yet there seemed to be still more barriers to her personal satisfaction.

“I love you,” he said, reaching with one unsteady hand to brush a lock of her hair back.

That only increased her desire - it did not fulfill it.  She shut her eyes, more aware once she had of the sound of her breathing, shaky and shallow.  

“I love you-” she countered in nearly a whisper.  “ - touch me, will you?”

His hands found her breasts. James lightly stroked one of her nipples with the pad of his thumb.

She let out a whimper and closed her arms around his shoulders, burying her face into the hollow of his throat.  Elizabeth was not generally self-conscious enough to seek to muffle herself, but the only man alive whose disapproval and hurt mattered to her was on this ship - and besides that, she thought she might make a lot of noise.

“Would you prefer I- nn- muffled you myself?”

James was trying to sound teasing. It was about as hard as he was.

Elizabeth shut them both up for a good long while. James’s participation was necessarily somewhat limited, but he had to playfully pull himself away from her from time to time- make it a game- to extend his own longevity, and hopefully hers as well, while making it clear that he was not experiencing another attack of reluctance or misplaced conscience. He could only pray that his- hopefully- wolfish grin when he did, and his eager, exploratory hands gave the game away.

By the time they had both climaxed and fallen into one another's arms, James’s headache had mostly dissipated. Whether that was the Advil or two rounds of release, he couldn't say, but it was a blessed relief either way to bury his face against her neck, into the sea salt scent of her hair and no longer feel the burn behind his eyelids.

“Good Christ,” he murmured. “You're… mmph. You're very good at that.”

After such a long time of wanting it, to finally achieve this elation had exhausted her.  Elizabeth was entirely spent and refused to do any more than the bare minimum of movement. Therefore the pressure of her fingers against the back of his neck, sunk into the base of his hair, was very light, and their motion was very slow.  It did not quite qualify as a massage.  A good wind would have been stronger.

“Elizabeth?”

He propped himself up on one elbow.

“James?”

“Ah, good. There you are. I thought you had exhausted yourself.”

“Myself? You exhausted me.”

“One does not wish to overestimate one’s contributions,” James said, affectedly stiff and more than a little self-mocking.

“You wore me out,” she complained, while smiling.

“I did notice a fair bit of recurrence.” This was a bit more smug. “I did not even realize this kind of success was possible with your particular anatomy-”

“I did not realize it was not with yours.  You’ve been….. mm, instructive,” she said, biting her lip and smiling.

“Ah, good,” he said again, as he did not wish to say anything more vulgar. “Put your hand in my hair again, will you?”

She threaded her fingers through it, remarking again on its admirable curl and depth of color, and reminding him that she had still not grown used to seeing him without his formal wig, but liked him better every single day.  In general she liked to look at him. He was beautiful, and realizing both that he was hers - and that she had almost lost him - made her more inclined to linger on the thought.

“Most of the curl will be weighted out by the time I am able to tie it.”

This came out in a startlingly rueful tone from the sheer force of fear of disappointing her. James immediately covered his eyes with his hand in mortification.

“Pardon me- I did not intend to sound so morbid where something so petty is concerned.”

She laughed at him. “James, it’s not a big deal.”

“I know it isn't- though in truth, living up to your expectations often feels like the most important demand in my life at present-”

“You have far exceeded my expectations. You know what I thought of you.”

“You have no trouble reminding me,” James said dryly. “I couldn't not know.”

“You meant my... present expectations?”

In truth, Elizabeth had none - she did not think of relationships in that transactional way he assumed - but she wanted to soften what she had just said.  

“...yes?” said James, with an uneasy rising intonation.

“That you comfort me, and irritate me, and make up for it; that you be sarcastic and interesting, and sensitive, and in need of your own comfort and irritation; and that you make me regret the last few years sorely, but the last few months not at all, and make me impatient for the future? And that you be as good a second as any captain could imagine, and as good as a husband to boot, and that you be here, in this bed, when I climb into it in at night, even when our day has been awful, and I am stinking angry at you?”

She pinched his nose.

“You’re better than I expect, a great deal so.  I never thought you would give over the Gloriana to be with me, and you’ve said you will.  I still cannot believe you brought me the heart of Davy Jones, for that matter.  And, darling James,” she laughed, pinching his chin instead. “You grew a beard for me.”

“It was the least I could do after you saved my life,” he said, faux-somberly. “Twice, to be fair.”

“I only saved your life the once.  And you had saved mine already.”

“I seem to recall a rum bottle cracked over my head-”

“Ah, well. That wasn’t guaranteed in either direction,” she said, but she looked smug.

“I want to do right by you,” he said, with a softer, more sincere note creeping into his voice. “Everything else is secondary. I suppose I will sort  out in time.”

“You do,” she said, fond with exasperation.

“It’s a matter of convincing myself, then,” said James. “Of- of allowing myself to believe that.”

She brushed his hair back from his forehead. She couldn’t think of what to say to convince him - or make him convince himself - and so she did not say anything. James closed his eyes and tilted his head into her caressing.

“If it is easier to consider it as such,” he sighed, “you may consider it more of a desire to honor your choice of myself even with your former husband back in the situation.”

A pause.

“That,” said James, “and- God help me-”

He inhaled sharply, going a little red with embarrassment. He was silent again for a moment.

“...I liked your doting on my prick, as you called it.”

Since she had made that brazen declaration in the first place, it was perhaps ironic for Elizabeth to respond to having it tossed back in her face by growing flushed and pressing her nose into her arm.

“- is that what I called it? Ah - well - I suppose - it’s apt, isn’t it?”

“It's what you called it,” he muttered, covering his face, “it will do-”

“Perhaps, seeing as - you liked it - you might -”  She tucked her head onto his shoulder and nudged him, curling up beside him as she did. “ - permit it more frequently-”

“I- yes, I suppose. I… I could, couldn't I?”

James's voice was a little fragile with bafflement. For the first time since very early in their rekindled acquaintance, he felt as though he were looking at her curled up on someone else's shoulder.

She pressed coaxing kisses against his ear, his bearded cheek, and his fingers, which still lay over his face.

“I do dote on you,” she whispered, gently headbutting him and smiling to herself.

“I’m very aware-” James blurted. “I-”

“- like it?” she supplied, stroking his chin again.

“-yes, that too.”

“Oh, and what else, Captain Norrington?”

“I imagine I can permit it. More than that- request it-”

He lowered his hand- he had already been looking out from behind his spread fingers- to look at her properly.

“Oh?” she breathed, delighted.

“Subject to your consent, of course-”

“That’s all I want,” she said, leaning her cheek on him again ecstatically.  “We’ll be - we’ll be just like outlaw lovers in a ballad, huh?  Real lovers - not that we aren’t lovers.  But you’re so - you’re so - you’re so reluctant-”

“Happier than a ballad, I hope-”

“You make me happier than anyone is in a song,” said Elizabeth, forgetting momentarily every eye-roll, every yawn and every bit tongue - she kissed his cheek, enthusiastic and sincere.

“How is that earring practice coming along?” he teased, pushing his hand up into her hair as she kissed him.

“Mmm, touch my hair, James-”

“You needn’t ask-”

She shut her eyes and let him, a smile stealing over her face. James obligingly began gently working out the lingering tangles in her hair with his curved fingers.

“Am I permitted to show you a greater amount of public affection after last night?” he asked.

“- not until Will’s left,” she said, with sudden, unexpected tension.

“Ah,” he said. “A pity, that. I had rather hoped, given your apparent enjoyment-”

“Not until Will’s left,” she repeated in a haze.

“All right,” he said, kissing her on the temple in reassurance.

“I couldn’t -  couldn’t - make him watch that-” she said numbly.

“Then I suppose I shall have to detain you out of his sight more often,” James laughed.

“You - you may have to do that.”

She was stumbling over her words, the swiftness of the unhappy reminder - the heartache it gave her - rendering her briefly useless; she burrowed into his arms and stayed for a moment.  Then she rolled over and flashed him a tired smile.

“It’s going to be difficult to stay off you, even in front of the crew,” she goaded him; “so I shall need more of you than ever when we are alone.”

“I intend to give it,” he said as he lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “As much of me as you will have-”

“I could eat you alive,” she said with a smirk.

“I can think of no happier demise,” said James, beaming.

He was so proud of that, she realized - he really had wanted this, and nothing more.  Or nothing less, perhaps, was a better phrasing.

Elizabeth pulled his hand to her lips now in return. James's smile softened.  

“I am not living for you alone,” he said, “but what joy it is to live for you at all.”

She rubbed his thumb with hers affectionately.

“...yeah, I don’t mind it either,” she managed, blushing again; not the most romantic of affirmations, but sincere.

“... perhaps we ought to maintain a no-poetry policy-”

“We’re pirates. You might be just out of the Navy, James, but for my own part, I don’t think i can hold to policy all that well.”

“You would be amazed to know how similar they feel after a few months at sea,” James conceded, “when we're all sick to distraction of uniforms and protocol.”

“Understood,” she laughed.  “In any case, I cannot allow a no-poetry policy.  I am sorry, James, but the king has said her final word on the matter.”

“Then I shall have to cope with that, it seems,” he said, with an affectionate squeeze of the hand. “My God, Elizabeth. From the way you carry on, I sometimes suspect that even had we married it would have taken mere months before I might as well have wed another sailor.”

“Another boy sailor?”

James blinked, a little taken aback, and collected himself.

“Well,” he said, “if it were still you-“

“I don’t think I would have been quite so much of this then,” she said, a little cautiously - if he liked the thought of it, she did not want to discourage his affection for her; but she could not bid herself lie, either.

“That’s true,” he admitted. “And thinking of the others, I might have so much as grown too accustomed to you-“

“Lord, James, there’s no pleasing you.  You wouldn’t have been excited by my stockings or my corsets, but if I had taken to trousers you’d have bored of that too?”

“I never said a word about stockings-“ he interjected, too quickly.

“Oh,” she said, grinning.

“Elizabeth.”

“Well, indeed, I suppose you did not, though I assumed-”

“Stockings aren’t much for artifice-“

“I thought all of those little feminine trappings disagreed with you.  All of that beribboned nonsense.”

“Not all of it, certainly-“

He pressed his lips together.

“There’s nothing to recommend against a chemise, either,” he said finally. “And I suppose panniers on their own have a degree of charm to balance out the stays-“

Elizabeth’s expression made the rounds between amusement, to incredulity, to exasperation with a startling quickness.

“James Norrington, you ass!” she shouted, hitting him in the shoulder.

“What have I done now?” he protested.

“Perjured yourself - though I should have expected no less from so foul and so black a brigand,” she said, thumping him again.

“You know what I prefer- for heaven’s sake, Lisbet, what do you suppose Lettie wore?”

“You said you didn’t like all of that! You told me so-”

“It’s certainly not my ideal-“

“You said you didn’t like it. You said it had no appeal.”

“Not under a dress, it doesn’t!”

“But we talked about it! We talked about - women, in a state of undress - and you said you didn’t care for those things!”

“I said I don’t care for stays, Elizabeth, I was quite specific-“

“I am certain I asked after everything else,” she grumbled.  “I remember-”

“It’s of no consequence regardless,” he said heatedly. “I know how I prefer you.”

“Naked as the day I was born - that’s very glamorous-”

“In men’s clothing with scarcely anything left to be imagined,” he muttered, averting his eyes.

“In men’s clothing- you have to imagine everything in order to even believe there is a woman under them in the first place,” she exclaimed, exasperated.

“Not her legs- and not her arse, either-“

Elizabeth opened her mouth, but no sound came out this time. James shrugged uncomfortably.

She found herself blushing.  And trying not to smile.  And smiling.

“Really?” she asked, feeling the corner of her mouth tugging upward in spite of her best intentions.

“Yes,” he groaned.

“You like looking at - ?“

“Oh, my God- yes, all right? I know what I prefer-”

Elizabeth looked radiantly happy.  She could barely hear him.

“That is so - that is too kind of you.”

“Did you really believe that was all a lie?” he asked, frowning in concern.

“I thought you felt very little and wanted me to stop accusing you of it,” she laughed.

“For heaven's sake- just because I found a little to delight in when Lettie wore all of that-”

“You still seem very….” She hesitated to repeat the word ‘cool’ to him.  “...restrained about matters of preference,” she finished delicately.

“I don't wish to be churlish-”

“I think I’d like you to be a little bit of a brat to me sometimes,” said Elizabeth with a nudge.  “Just to make up for the way you are most of the time.”

James laughed a little tiredly.

“Lettie hardly had your abundance of hair, either,” he said, “and yet you know how I feel about that.”

“Mm, yes. The one thing on which we are in absolute agreement,” she said, pulling it to the side and scrunching it absentmindedly.  “I have very wonderful hair.”

James reached out and stroked it.

“Hers was a very pale blonde. She tinted it red and cut it around here-”

He touched about halfway down Elizabeth's neck.

“-filled it with switches lest anyone pulled on it, to spare her neck the strain. A rather grim occupational hazard, really. Don't tell her I told you that, if you ever meet her.”

Elizabeth pulled a face unintentionally.  “Do you think she would like me?”

“I would hope so,” said James. “It’s not as though we parted on poor terms; I can’t imagine her bearing you any ill-will.”

He sat up a little, to gain better access to her hair, and began working on some of the more stubborn snarls.

“I hope that this does not lessen your opinion of me.”

“What now?”

“My selective honesty, compounded by the impropriety of that which I chose to omit.”

“...the fact that you are only sometimes honest?  James, everyone is only sometimes honest.  I think Captain Barbossa is only sometimes partially honest, and he does his best not to be.”

“In matters of the heart,” he said gently, “it seems a rather cold detail to leave out. I did not realize it upset you to think I cared so little for all of that.”

“I don’t imagine you would,” she said, reconciliatory with private alarm, realizing at once she had made him think she was much more hurt than she was.  “I have never appeared to value my feminine attributes, such as I can be said to have them - why would you think I did?”

“You commented often enough on my alleged preference for a boy and my morbidity that I thought you must have thought I regretted your sex in the first place-”

“I think you regret that you want me - physically, anyway. I think you wish love were an entirely spiritual affair.”

“Not now I don't-”

“But you did.  Even after we got together.”

“Is that so disappointing?”

“Of course it was.”

“You were coming off of the end of your marriage- because of myself, I might add. I did not dare to get ahead of myself.”

“You remember how I was in Tortuga,” said Elizabeth, looking towards him in exasperation. “How badly I wanted you.”

“I know that,” he said. “But I did not know you would choose me in the end.”

“Whose heart were you protecting?”

James swallowed. “Both, I thought.”

She brushed her finger over his heart with the ghost of a smile.

“I’ll protect it, always,” she said in a soft voice.  “...your feelings, on the other hand, I cannot promise anything-”

“Don't worry about that,” he said. He released her hair to clasp her hand instead, with what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

There was an awkward silence between them for a moment, which James broke with a small cough.

“I know I ought to dress and go out,” he said, “but I find I lack the impulse. What does Her Majesty suggest?”

“Well, it must be growing close to evening by now,” she said dubiously.  “We may as well.  And perhaps we’ll linger when the sun goes down.”

“Mm.” He stretched his back with a grimace. “I can only hope I don't look too dissipated.”

“The more dissipated, the better,” she said, leaning on his chest to look down into his eyes.  “You’re a pirate now.”

James scoffed. “Then perhaps we ought to change the standard.”

“No, I like the standard- it’s less work.”

“Suit yourself,” he laughed.

“I do,” she said loftily.

“Dissipation may be a bridge too far,” said James, settling in comfortably to hold her a moment longer. “We’ll have to find some adjacent adjective.”

He pushed his hair from his face, with the dim thought that he understood a little better now how much she could like how much he loved hers- even if she had specified their feelings were not quite matched in that regard. He wondered, vaguely, how long it could grow without the near-curl dropping out of it, and if he could get accustomed to not tying it back…

“What's the next nearest thing to dissipated? Tarnished?”

“That will do,” she said, muzzily.  The bed seemed hot and somewhat sticky, but she didn’t want to get up and get dressed, didn’t want to be released.

“Tarnished, then. I can be content with tarnished.” He dipped his hand around to the inside of her thigh, as though to make a point.

“Mmmmm, content indeed.”

“More than content, really,” he said, after a short pause. “Elizabeth-”

“James?”

“I hope that with our misunderstandings cleared away, you might permit me to ask for your attentions… often.”

“Which attentions?” she asked, stirring her fingers in his hair in the echo of a question.

James met her eyes.

“All of them. And- mine in return.”

“You want to ask for your own affections?” pressed Elizabeth, clearly amused.

“To give them, at least-”

“I do like your attentions,” she said in a low, baiting voice.

“And to receive yours,” said James, very seriously.

“You might not realize what you are opening yourself up to,” she said, creeping closer to him.

“How would you have me prepare myself, then-”

“I wouldn’t,” she teased, and kissed him.

“Mmm. I shall remain alert, then,” he said, with the ghost of a laugh.

She explored his mouth with her tongue, pushing him back onto the bed and leaning over him.  Her hair fell over him in a curtain of tangles. James looked up at her, guileless and joyful.

“What is it?”

“I love you, obviously,” she said, looking down into his eyes and snorting.

“Is that all?” James scoffed, too seriously to mean it.

“I love you and I don’t want to leave this bed,” she amended in apology.

“Oh, thank heaven. Neither do I.”

“Let’s forget today ever happened.  Like we slept right through it and go on deck tomorrow bright and early and express shock that anyone would wonder how we missed a full day, since all we remember is All Hallow’s Eve, and drinking enough to be sick.”

“Clever,” he laughed. “Agreed, then, save the part about pretending none of this happened. I want to treasure today in my heart as the day on which I feel we came to a stronger understanding.”

“James,” she said flatly.

“What is it?”

“You sound like a 90-year-old barn owl.”

“I don't want to forget today,” he said, with a resigned sigh.

“A stronger understanding, really? Because I-”

“-I feel we’re on the same page, at last, as concerns car-”

Too formal, still. James caught himself and had to take a moment to flake the excess ornamentation away from his words, until his feelings beneath them were exposed.

“Where fucking is concerned,” he said, with an embarrassed precision. “You don't understand how often I think of it- dwell on it-”

Elizabeth’s exasperation softened to be reminded that James was, after all, only a man - and a man she had lain with many times over now, to great mutual satisfaction, to boot.  It was pitifully easy to forget sometimes.

“You hide it rather better than most men do,” she said gently.

“Thank God for that,” he scoffed. “But I will… try… to hide it perhaps less-”

“Not in front of others,” said Elizabeth, a little mortified.

“Of course not! Let's not get ahead of ourselves-”

“But when we’re… alone together?”  She bit her lip hopefully.

“Oh- yes, darling, yes-”

“Then - that will be - very much to my preference,” she said delicately. The irony of her speaking like an owl did not go unappreciated, and Elizabeth cracked a smile reflecting on it.  “At the very least, I shall have no reason to think of you as morbid.”

James smiled a little tightly but had nothing else to add after that. He stretched, groaned, and fell back in place with a yawn.

“Is there enough water left in the basin to wash, do you suppose?”

“The important bits,” she said unruffledly.

“I see,” said James. “Do we plan on dirtying ourselves again?”

His hand in her hair tangled itself in firmly enough to give her a possessive little tug. “I could always wash you myself, but I fear that would end in defeating the purpose.”

“Mm-” she laughed.  “What a tempting offer.”

“If you were to take it up-”

(He kissed her collarbone.)

“-might you reciprocate?”

“You sure you want that?” she asked lightly, with a knowing smirk.

“...I do,” he said softly, the smirk momentarily falling from his face to be replaced by a look of utter open vulnerability.