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lickingthywounds · 2 months

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Any chance we could get a teaser for your story? A dustjacket promo or a lil excerpt? No pressure!

Will the full first chapter suffice? 😌

Wool Over Eyes | Chapter 1

The first thing he remembers is the fire.

Not a stranger to arson, he’s plenty familiar with the idea of flames against poorly guarded skin. This, however, was a different kind of heat. A blazing inferno — and no creation of his own — tearing through his gut, pacing chasing racing like his heart as it burned from entry wound to exit.

A fire of the invisible sort. That is, ruthless and unforgiving agony. Warm tails lapping at the lacerations. A single breath, gargled between beads of crimson, and he finally comprehends the sensation — and the severity of it.

He’s been shot.

The second thing he remembers is wetted concrete against his cheek, the way his temple fell against the cold remnants of a late summer’s rain, copper bangs sticking to his forehead, and the echo of patient footsteps that prefaced a shadow. The way its narrow body stretched beneath the streetlight is forever seared into the back of his eyelids, its owner a mystery.

His current surroundings, too, a great conundrum. The place he wakes next is not home, nor a hospital, but somewhere entirely foreign to memory. A simple room, beige walls under flush mounted lights, a single picture window with the curtains drawn, and a small cot dressed in cotton sheets with which he currently rests beneath… until, upon a quick double-back of the room, he becomes distinctly aware that he isn’t alone.

Then he is sitting upward in a matter of seconds — or making an attempt of it, anyway. His endeavor is interrupted both by a miserable burn in his shoulderblade and the eager gestures of the stranger who’d nearly leapt from their chair upon seeing him up.

“Easy, kid,” says the man now at his side, “your wounds are only beginning to heal, try not to aggravate them already.”

They are no one he recognizes. A tall and lissome frame, his head crowned in rich black hair that is wrapped in a lazy bun, the sides shaved out, he wears a comfortable turtleneck and a watch of extravagant design. A strange show of wealth when compared to such a plainly decorated room.

Not allowed the chance to overthink the observation, his thoughts are interrupted as his savior’s hand reaches for his clean shoulder, “That was some mess you got caught up in,” they mutter, “Can you talk?”

“Don’t touch me,” he spits, answering the man’s question either way, “Don’t—” A stilted breath is kept hostage in his lungs until the man’s accusing hand withdrawals, and they lift both palms to show they mean no harm, only then does he release the air. His body sags forward with the effort. “Sorry,” he mutters under breath, as though it’s only an afterthought, “just — just give me a minute.” The heel of his palm lifts with careful measures — minding his wounded shoulder — to rub over his eyes, blinking away the remaining crust of sleep. “Who are you, again?”

An easy shrug is all he initially receives, unbearably casual. “Don’t sweat it,” the stranger replies, “you’re well within your right to be scared. Shouldn’t have reached for you just after wakin’ up, but you would’a torn right through the bandage if I hadn’t.” He turns over his heel and drags the stool he’d been on earlier to stand against the frame of the bed, then hauls himself over it so he’s less towering. “Let’s start over, yeah?” The man extends his hand to shake, “The name’s Esmond. And you are…?”

“Still waiting for you to answer my question,” comes his swift reply. There’s a drumming sensation between his ears, the headache he’d been nursing now making itself a force to be reckoned with. It does nothing but further sour his mood. “Maybe I wasn’t obvious enough. Where am I, and how the hell did I get here? The last thing I remember is a lead nose shaving through my insides, I should be surrounded by doctors right now.” Or dead, if he was being realistic, but that dreary thought didn’t need to be voiced.

“You don’t like the room?” Esmond asks, mock-disappointment dripping from his tongue. The attempt at humor is forgotten quick as it arrived, however, and replaced with a long sigh of defeat. “You’re in my house, that’s all. I found you half-dead on the pavement with uppers and snow spilling out your pockets. Thought I’d be doing you a favor, fixin’ you up myself over speed dialing the nearest cop.” He leans forward, tongue peeking out to wet his lips, “I meant no harm in bringin’ you here, kid. You…really don’t remember me?”

He stares long and hard, hazel eyes burning, trying his damndest to catch a lick of trust in the man before him and finding nothing promising. Cynicism is a bitch and it always got the better of him, anyway, but nothing about their character screams good samaritan to him. Not that he has much of a choice but to place his trust in the man for the time being. As it stands, he’s a whole arm short in terms of functionality and bedridden until the damage to his body and its residual soreness decide to play nice.

Speaking of soreness, that’s about all he feels of it. A sensation, or the lack thereof, that had gone unnoticed until now. He ought to be feeling a whole lot worse after taking a bullet like that, yet the pain in his shoulder is limited to a dull blade pressing hesitantly against his collarbone. Aside from that, it’s just the growing pressure between his temples and a subtle whirling of thoughts, like his mind swims through cotton, and that — if nothing else — is familiar.

“Hey, are you listeni—”

“Did you drug me?” He cuts the man off with a question of his own, aghast and well guarded, his head woozily swings upward to look him in the eyes.

“I…” Esmond pauses, a hand coming to rub against the back of his neck like a guilty dog hiding its tail, “well, yeah,” he answers honestly, “you were just shot, remember? I wasn’t about to let you endure that without some help, ‘specially since I had to dig the shrapnel out by hand. Real nasty work.”

His heartbeat quickens at the mention, and it’s a good deal calmer than it ought to be. Slower than if only under the effect of any over the counter pain relief he knows off the top of his head. A sedative, then?

He still isn’t getting the answers he wants. If anything, he only has more questions. The blanket shifts over his increasingly restless legs as he finally takes the time to better examine his surroundings; the feeling of clean linen itches against his skin, now more obvious than ever. He pulls away the covers with his good arm to see himself in a too-big shirt and gray pants, neither of which are his own. The beloved hoodie he went down in is no where to be found.

“It was like rooting around for a prize at the bottom of a cereal box,” Esmond continues to fill the silence, returning again to his strange choice of humor, if only briefly. “I didn’t give you anything serious, if that’s what you’re worried about. Just somethin’ to kill the pain ‘s all. Scout’s honor. Wasn’t sure how clean you were with shit like that in your pockets, after all, and I didn’t want a dead kid on my conscience.”

“I’m not a kid,” he’s quick to correct, “stop calling me that. I’m not some druggie, either. Only getting a few bucks where I can.”

Again, Esmond’s hands raise in a show of apology, “Alright, alright,” he resigns with a dry laugh, “why not give me something else to call you, then?”

A name. That’s all the man wanted, right? Even a nickname would do if only to keep that damn word out of his mouth. Still, his lips pressed together like a closing door, locked up tight. They weren’t getting anything from him.

“Fine,” hums Esmond, his mouth curving into a cheeky smile, “Ovis it is.”

Suddenly his lips can’t part fast enough. “That’s not my name,” he says.

“Maybe not,” Esmond shrugs, “but you seem determined to keep it from me, so I’ve decided your name is Ovis. You’re free to correct me at any time.”

The action is almost jarring enough to make him reconsider the decision to keep his identity a secret. Almost. This man already has him in the flesh, already has his clothes and any belongings left on his person after the incident. He didn’t want to give up his only remaining sense of privacy.

So again, his mouth clamps shut, visibly resolving to keep it that way this time. He’d rather stew in a pot of ire than give the man what he wanted.

Esmond’s smile grows teeth. “So stubborn,” his sigh is almost romantic, chin hanging casually on the base of his palm, “you’re more clever than you look.”

That’s all it takes for him to decide that it’s time to leave.

“Well, thank you for your help until this point,” he moves as he talks, legs swinging over the edge of the bed, his feet are bare as they land on the cold wood paneling, “but I think I can handle myself from here on out, so I’ll get out of your hair.”

“You’re leaving already?”

He moves to stand and makes it to his feet - barely. The sudden burden of his entire weight nearly threatens to topple him backwards and against the mattress once more. He grits through it, locking his knees in place until he feels stable enough to try again, and doesn’t bother tossing a look behind him until then.

Esmond, himself, does nothing to indicate that he plans to follow or stop him, anyway. The man remains seated at the bed’s side, hands now settling politely in his lap.

“I just really need to get home,” his answer spills out between labored breaths, each step further shocking the gentle analgesic from his system, “so if you could just hand over my shoes and jacket—” he is dizzy and heavy and so, so tired, a bone-deep exhaustion that has thoroughly settled its way through every joint, it makes the stretch between bed and door feel like miles. The left side of his body is beginning to scream. He makes it across the room and stables himself against the wall beside the door for only as long as it takes to catch his breath.

Still, Esmond says nothing, does nothing, up until the very moment his patient finally makes for the doorknob—

“Well, that’s a damn shame.”

—only to find it locked.

Ovis stills where he’s at, back turned to the man as his spine attempts to crawl out from between his teeth. The hairs along his arm prickle and brush against his soiled bandage, aching wildly, now, the wounds hidden beneath feeling all the more damning now that he’s well and truly cornered.

Breathlessly, he risks a glance over his shoulder.

Esmond’s hands brace against his knees as he stands with a low exhale, as if the next words to come out of his mouth are in any way remorseful. “The way I see it, you owe me a debt.” Casual strides carry him across the room and in no time at all he’s covered the distance between them, that same sly grin making up for the otherwise lazy expression on his face. “See, you’d be dead if I hadn’t dragged your sorry ass to safety. You have me to thank for being alive and well. It’d be selfish to just run off now, don’t you think?”

“What the hell are you talking about,” Ovis barks, shoulders going rigid. His hair stands on end like raised hackles as he turns fully to face the man again while his hand continues its fruitless struggle against the doorknob at his back, relentless. “I can’t stay here, I need to get home,” he finds it easy to keep the tremble out of his voice if he focuses on his growing temper rather than the fear slowly overtaking him, “listen, I can pay you, okay? I’ve got some cash stowed away that’ll make up for all of this.”

Another step forward brings them ever closer, toe-to-toe, until their arm braces idly above Ovis’ head, against the door, and their breath warms his forehead, “I’m not sure you understand, clever boy,” he speaks sweetly, like explaining something simple to a child, nothing but smiles as he bends to be at eye-level, “I wasn’t asking.”

A beat of silence passes between them. Limbs still, paralyzed, his breath quickening.

He ducks beneath Esmond’s arm and heads for the window, ditching the idea of escape through the door, but his captor is fast, faster by a mile, and catches him by the wrist like one might swat casually at a fly. It snaps, the joint locking beneath his iron grip and reverberating up the chain of muscle until thunder claps against his shoulder and the first cry escapes between his clenched teeth.

“Settle,” they order, tone even, “you’re only going to hurt yourself further like this.”

“You’re the one hurting me!” Ovis growls back, struggling still against the firm hold.

“I’m only holding you in place, lamb, to keep you from hurting yourself more,” he counters, “you’re the one squirming, Ovis. If you’d only settle down, like I’ve asked, you wouldn’t be in so much pain. It will stop when you decide you’re ready to listen.”

“Fuck that!” He lurches away, all but tearing his elbow from its joint in the process, and stubbornly bites back the resulting scream until the insides of his cheek tastes like old pennies. “Let. Me. Go—”

He’s released in an instant. The sudden lack of binding has him staggering backwards, and he lands — shoulder first — against the hardwood floor.

There’s few means to stop the shriek that erupts from his chest this time around. It echoes against the walls and yet earns no change in expression from the man standing over him.

“See?” Esmond tuts, abandoning him there on the floor and momentarily stepping in the opposite direction, instead, “I suppose you’re determined to learn things the hard way.”

He isn’t listening, and he doesn’t care to. Rather, his attention is evenly divided between the blinding spasms abusing his newly reopened wounds and the wave of nausea that each brings. He chokes on the taste of bitter acid at the back of his throat and fights it off the best he can, but his vision is swiftly tunneling, and he hasn’t much time to do anything more than take shallow breaths and feel like he’s drowning on land.

It can’t end like this. If he passes out for a second time, there’s no telling where he’ll wake up or what else will happen to him. He has to move. He has to get out of here. He has to get up. Get up. Get up.

Shaking, still, he manages to gather the strength to prop an arm beneath him, bent at the elbow, and with that last remaining burst of energy he raises himself up by an inch, then two—

A boot makes contact with the space between his shoulderblades and drives him back into the floor with a resounding crunch.

Ovis howls, dry heaving around the agony. With no strength left to shake the shoe off his back he is forced to stay down, fists clenched, angry and panting like a stray on the side of the road.

Blearily, he realizes he will be forgotten like one, too.

The stars forming in his vision are warm and inviting, the ring in his ears like a blaring alarm. He lacks the strength to refuse them a second time, and so his body slumps, fists uncurling to expose open palms, and everything

falls

silent.

#HIIII THANK YOU FOR THE ASKS. SORRY IT TOOK ME A GODDAMN Y E A R TO ANSWER #HOPEFULLY THIS MAKES UP FOR IT. LMAO #WOE: chapters #whump #whump community #whumpblr #hmmm should I tag this with CWs? probably #cw kidnapping #cw gunshot wound (mentioned)#cw drugging #those are the big ones but i'll update if i missed something #UHH OKAY THAT'S ALL. GOODBYE NOW 🏃

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voiceoffenrisulfr · 2 months

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Chapter Eleven - "Every Time I Slip Into the Ocean, it's Like Going Home."

The boys live with the after-effects of the kidnapping, and how to move forward… Together. CW: Discussion of gunshot wounds and captivity, non-graphic medical care, smut, AAAALLLL the smut. Full smut warnings in prompts.

Prompts used (contains spoilers); - ‘Thigh Riding’ – @anyfandomfluffbingo; - “Aw, You’re Blushing.” – @anyfandomgoesbingo Any Fandom Kink Bingo; - “Kiss Me”– @buckybarnesbingo (B005); - ‘Dry Humping’, ‘Deep Throating’ – @buckybarnesevents Build-a-Bucky Bingo (July); - “Take Your Meds, Baby.”– Bug’s First Bingo; - “Is this okay?”, ‘Taking Hair Behind Their Ear’ – @eclipsingbingo; - ‘Hugs from Behind’ – Eclipsing Bingo (Dark Version); - “Anything You Want” – Eclipsing Bingo (Flash);

- ‘Masturbation’, ‘Submissive Lover’, ‘Voyeur’ - @fandom-free-bingo (Flight Edition); - ‘Glorious’ – Gen Prompt Bingo; - ‘Held at Gunpoint to ‘Taking Their Mind Off of it’ – @sweetspicybingo Hurt/Comfort Bingo; - ‘Kink: Exhibitionism’ – @julybreakbingo (5x5), - ‘Flutter’ – July Break Bingo (6x6); - “Does it Hurt?”, ‘Giggling while kissing or nervous kissing’ – July Break Bingo (7x7); - ‘Fingers in Mouth or Hand Over Mouth’, ‘Obsessive Love’ – July Break Bingo (Kofi Exclusive); – “I’m Going to Take Care of You, Okay?” - July Break Bingo (Kofi Exclusive); - ‘Love as Appreciation’ – July Break Bingo (Summer);

- ‘Fingering’, ‘Handjobs’, ‘Stripping’, ‘Worship’, ‘Cock Warming’, Praise Kink’ – @kinky-things-happen; - ‘Butterflies in Their Stomach’ – @seasonaldelightsbingo Language of Flowers; - ‘Trans!Character’ – @lgbtqbingo; - Space is Magic’ – @multifandom-flash - Astronomy Day + National Space Day; - ‘Sweat Together’ – Multifandom Flash Bingo – New Year (NSFW); - 'Vampire Hickey' - Multifandom Flash Bingo - Halloween (5037); - ‘Bite of Affection’ – Multifandom Flash Bingo - Valentine’s Day; - ‘First Time’ – Pre-July Break Flash Bingo; - ‘Fuck Away the Pain’ – @sebastianstanbingo.

Check it out below, or on AO3 here! Boards not included because there's too many XD, divider by yours truly <3

In the end, Greg was in the hospital for almost two weeks – and even then, he was only released because of his own pushing, despite my objections.

Two days later, we were back aboard the Whisper, his eyes closed as he stood with his hands on the wheel, thumbs smoothing the grooves worn by his own touch over the years. I watched reverently as he took a long, deep breath, filling his lungs with the scent of salt-encrusted wood and sun-warmed seawater. The motion made him wince minutely, a guilty grimace crossing my own features at this discomfort.

“Take your meds, baby,” I murmured, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to his jaw and offering him the bottle I kept permanently handy, constantly alert of any sign of pain.

With a soft chuckle, he tossed back a couple of pills, returning the bottle to me with a grateful smile. He leaned closer to skim his lips over mine, fingers cupping my chin tenderly. “I love you, Snowflake,” he breathed, and I sighed happily, lost in the sparkle of sunlight on water reflected in the depths of his mahogany eyes. He’d told me he loved me dozens of times by now, but it still made my stomach fizz with delight. I couldn’t get enough, and I found myself going out of my way to do things for him – both as an expression of my own adoration, and in the hope of hearing those words once more.

“I love you too, Lieutenant Tyne,” I sighed, fingers tightening a little against his back. Alongside everything else, his declaration of love had me more eager for him than ever. It was taking conscious effort to keep my touches innocent and chaste; I knew that at the subtlest sign of my need for him, he’d disregard any thought for his wellbeing and would have had his way with me in his hospital bed.

But now we were back where we were meant to be, he was cleared for light exercise, and I couldn’t stop the grip tangling in his tank top, earning an amused raise of his eyebrow. “Easy, sweet boy, or I won’t be around to set sail… Though it wouldn’t be hard to convince me not to care,” he added with a purr, burrowing his face in my neck to trail his lips tenderly along my throat. I let out a light-hearted, world-weary sigh as my head fell back, fingers reluctantly unwrapping from his shirt.

“Fine, fine,” I murmured, eyelids fluttering in pleasure and resisting the temptation to pout when he drew away. One hand still rested on the wheel of his beloved ship, and I snorted, shaking my head fondly. “Welcome back, Captain.”

The day passed in a blur of sun and sea, the ocean mercifully calm for our return. I relished in watching my love come back to life, brightening further with each lungful of salted air and called order. We’d received many well-wishes and exclamations of relief at our safety – but the crew, much like their Captain, seemed largely occupied with getting back to normal.

The fresh air and return to manual labour proved exhausting, and by the time the sun went down, I was more than happy to lean against the railing, letting out a heavy, contented sigh.

“Hey, beautiful.”

A gentle hand rested on the small of my back, and I smiled softly, eyes closing in bliss. “Good evening, my Captain.”

His arms wrapped around me, holding me carefully to his chest and nuzzling into my hair. “A good one indeed,” he agreed, resting his chin on my shoulder lightly. I tipped my head back to stare up at the stars beginning to fade into view overhead, beautifully content.

“I love you,” I murmured, my arm draping over his with a happy shiver.

“I love you too, my beautiful boy,” he purred, holding me a little tighter to him. “Are you coming to bed, sweetheart? I’ve missed sleeping beside you.”

I looked to him with an adoring smile, heart picking up a little at the thought of finally being nested in beside him once more – and surprising him with my newfound readiness. I was nervous – afraid, almost – but I felt safe with this man who would risk his life for me. The steadily healing wound in his chest was a tactile testament to his desire to protect me, and I trusted him with my heart and body unerringly.

With a soft nod, I melted further against him, humming contentedly. “I’ve missed you too, Sailor… Please take me to bed.” During his time in hospital, I’d slept in a chair by his bedside, clinging to his hand unwaveringly – but it had been weeks since I had curled up beside him for an easy night sleep, and I couldn’t wait to feel him pressed up against me once more.

He sighed happily, fingers lacing through mine to lead me away from the rail and across the empty deck towards his quarters. Most of the crew was sleeping, but I spotted Neri reclining by the helm, taking the night shift while her Captain got some rest.

Though not too much, if I got my way.

The second the door closed, my mouth found his again, hungry and insistent. A soft groan escaped him as he acquiesced all too willingly, hand tangling in my hair to hold me closer. He hummed in surprise as I nudged him gently backwards, the back of his knees touching against the bed. Lowering himself eagerly, he trembled with pleasure as I straddled his lap, hands resting gingerly on his chest. “I want you,” I breathed, dropping my head to trail gentle kisses along his jaw.

“You’ve got me, baby. Always,” he hummed absently, fingers curling against my hips. I chuckled softly, drawing back to brush my lips lightly against his.

“I want you to touch me,” I clarified, forehead resting gently against my Captain’s. His eyes widened infinitesimally, a nervous tongue darting out to probe his lower lip.

“You do?” he pressed, thumbs caressing his hips lightly, smiling when I offered him a firm nod.

“Yes. Please,” I added, arms shifting to wrap around his neck. “Make me feel good, Lieutenant Tyne.”

His fingers entwined in my hair, holding me to him as he kissed me deeply. “Anything you want, beautiful,” he murmured, eyes dancing and hips twitching. I felt my cheeks colour as his arousal pressed against me, and he smirked. “Aw… You’re blushing.” I turned ever redder, and he chuckled, reaching to brush a strand of hair from my cheek and tuck it tenderly behind my ear. “You’re so beautiful when you blush for me, Snowflake.”

Despite myself, I couldn’t help but smile at that, fingers smoothing the nape of his neck gently. “Kiss me, Captain.”

With a soft, guttural groan, he obliged eagerly, his free hand finding the small of my back to hold me closer as his mouth me mine with something akin to desperation. The sound of enthusiastic need that escaped me would’ve had me blushing once more had I any capacity for such things; instead, I simply continued to whimper hungrily as he guided my body to the sheets, settling beside me to move closer, the straining in his pants evident. His leg pressed between mine, and I gasped sharply, drawing back to drink in air as he gently worked his thigh against me. Even through several layers, the sensation had me trembling and rutting, hands grasping with a feral need to have him closer He smirked against my mouth, rumbling happily. “So desperate, sweetheart… Look at you squirm.”

I whined under my breath, arching against him. “I need you…”

He tutted quietly, grinning. “Oh, sweet boy. I’m going to take my time with you – and you’re going to do exactly what I tell you to, d’you hear me?” I nodded frantically, and he smiled, cupping my hip a little harder, fingers pressing into my skin. “I’m going to take care of you, okay?”

I nodded again, sighing happily as his mouth trailed slowly over my jaw and down my throat, hands pushing up under my shirt to tug it over my head. Lips moving lower, he traced the scars over my chest, and paused to press a tender kiss to the puckered, raised ridge of still-healing skin where the bullet had clipped me. My fingers wrapped in his hair as he unbuttoned my pants, sliding them patiently down my legs, trailing kisses up my calf slowly and earning a quiet hum of joy. His fingertips curled in my waistband, and I trembled, bringing him to a halt as he glanced up at me, resting his cheek gently on the soft skin at the inside of my thigh. “Is this okay?” he breathed, earning a nervous, eager smile.

“Very, very okay,” I reassured him, hand finding his hair and smoothing tenderly. He beamed, pressing an adoring kiss to my thigh as he eased my underwear down, dark eyes locked on mine.

It wasn’t until my boxers had been carelessly tossed over his shoulder that he rocked back onto his heels, swallowing visibly as he took me in. “Glorious,” he murmured, voice thick with reverence and he gestured absently toward the pillows. “More up the bed, sweetheart.” I blushed, shuffling obligingly, and his hands found my knees to push them gently further apart. My skin erupted in goosebumps at the exposure, feeling the wetness between my legs increase at the heat of his gaze on me. “Touch yourself for me, sweet boy. Show me what you like,” he purred, one hand dropping to grind against the straining in his pants.

I let out a soft, eager whimper, my own fingers trailing down my body to slowly caress myself, groaning aloud. “You make me so wet, Captain Tyne…” I whispered, grinning at his sharp, audible intake of breath. His enthusiasm spurred me on, and I sighed in pleasure, legs falling further apart to offer more of myself to his hungry gaze as a fingertip teased my entrance. “I can’t wait for you to finally be the first one to stretch out my tight pussy…”

He ground out a groan, undoing his belt deftly and squeezing his length through the cotton of his underwear. “Fuck – that filthy mouth with get you everywhere, baby.”

I smirked, arching as I slipped a finger inside myself slowly. “I wanna see that big, thick cock, Lieutenant Tyne,” I purred, his eyes on me intensely intoxicating, and I found myself panting and squirming, wetness flowing freely under his gaze. He licked his lips and inched down his boxers, wrapping around his length, stroking lazily as my body thrummed at the sight and I gulped. “Jesus…” I breathed, feeling my eyes grow wide. He smirked, trailing a thumb over his weeping tip, leaning closer to offer the smeared digit to me. Tentatively, I took the tip between my lips, eyes closing in pleasure at the taste of him, my hand on myself moving a little faster. A soft whine escaped me as I sucked his thumb eagerly, lids parting once more to fix him with a desperate gaze. He swallowed and nodded, drawing back to gesture me closer.

“Suck my cock, pretty boy,” he purred, dropping back to recline on an elbow, heavy-lidded gaze locked on me as I scrambled closer. My hand wrapped around him uncertainly, grinning happily when he sighed in pleasure as I stroked him slowly. Reassured, I squeezed his length gently, working him patiently and following the cues offered by his expression. His eyes closed, hips twitching, one hand grasping at the sheets as he let out a guttural groan. “Fuck, you’re good at th-” He cut himself off with a grunt as I bowed my head to flick the tip of my tongue over him, purring, unable to keep myself from wrapping my lips around him to suck lightly. His hand found my hair, tangling in the dark strands with surprising tenderness, shuddering as I bobbed my head tentatively. The weight of his cock on my tongue was intoxicating, and I found myself taking him deeper, eagerly letting his length slide toward the back of my mouth. The groan that he released as he brushed against my throat made my veins hum with pleasure, eyes wide and enraptured as I gazed up at him imploringly. He licked his lips, hips shifting as his fingers tightened in my hair. “More?” he prompted softly, his free hand shifting to tip up my chin minutely when I nodded. Slowly, beautifully, he pushed his way into my throat, and my lashes fluttered with pleasure at the feeling of him filling me, every inch of his impressive length pressed between my lips as he sighed contentedly. He rested there for a moment, fingers caressing my hair, palm pressed to my throat to feel his own hardness inside me, blinking down at me with love and devotion. “You look so pretty, sweet boy…” he purred, and I couldn’t help but squirm happily, tongue massaging the base of his cock. He groaned weakly, twitching even closer before drawing back to let me breathe. I drew air hungrily into my lungs as quickly as I could, then shifted nearer once more, taking him with unerring eagerness back into my throat and earning a surprised moan. Fingers tightening, his hips jerked, driving his length between my lips with a quick, needy pace. “Fuck, Snowflake, this perfect mouth is gonna make me come…” he warned, and I gazed up at him, head shifting to meet his speed, my hands wrapping around his hips to jerk him closer as I pleaded with my eyes for his pleasure. With a deafening groan, he pinned me to him as his cock pulsed between my lips, coating my throat with thick ropes of his seed.

I stayed in place as long as I could, ignorant to my lack of my oxygen until my lungs began to burn and he fell still, trembling. Grudgingly and with a whine of reluctance, I drew back, more than mildly annoyed by my body’s requirement for air. We panted in unison, his chest heaving, and I crawled up to settle against him, humming happily. “Good?”

He simply groaned in response, head falling back as his arm gave way, leaving him splayed across the sheets limply. His eyes flicked to me, shining with joy, and he tiredly gestured me closer, kissing me deeply as soon as I was in reach. “Incredible,” he murmured, breathless and depleted, purring at the taste of himself on my lips. “So… So good.” His hand found my hip to pull me closer, shaking his head in a search for cognizance as his fingers trailed gently over my skin. “Can I touch you?” he breathed, eyes dancing with pleasure when I nodded desperately.

“Fuck, yes please,” I whispered, one leg hooking over his to expose myself to his wandering touch with desperate enthusiasm. His lips found my throat, nipping and sucking gently, pausing only to let out a soft groan as his fingertips brushed against me.

“Fuck… Look how wet you are for me,” he purred, mouth resting behind my ear as he crooned to me. “Such a soaked pussy - so desperate for your Captain to touch you, hm?” I nodded eagerly, whimpering at the feather-light touch trailing from clit to entrance, knees falling further apart to offer myself for his mercy.

“Please – fuck, please, Sir, I need you to touch me more,” I mewled pitifully, writhing under his almost-imperceptible ministrations. He hummed thoughtfully and shifted to his knees, settling between my legs, his eyes on my dripping pussy as he continued his devoted torture.

“Tell me what you want, Snowflake,” he murmured, tracing gentle circles around my aching clit.

“I-I want you. I want your fingers inside me – I want you to stroke my clit – I-I want you to make me come, Sir, please!” I whined, hips jerking in a desperate attempt to increase the pressure of his touch. His free hand found my abdomen to pin me to the sheets, eyes shifting to mine as he slid a single finger inside me slowly, humming with pleasure.

“Fuck – so damn tight… I don’t know if my cock’s gonna fit inside this tiny cunt, baby…” he mused, finger curling and making me jerk in pleasure. I whimpered aloud, squirming as best I could under his grip, forcing my legs further still with utter desperation.

“Please- stretch me out, Sir- ge-get me ready for that big, thick cock to fuck my pussy…” I gasped, fingers clenching in the sheets. The hand moved from my abdomen to stroke my clit lazily, his single digit continuing its ministrations for a few moments more before a second pushed its way inside me. I moaned eagerly, back arching, frantic and desperate as I rutted against his hand.

“Look at you squirm, baby,” he groaned, fingers shifting harder inside me. “Fucking my hand like a needy whore, hm? That’s it… You fuck yourself for me, Snowflake.” His fingers stilled, and I whined, hips jerking with depraved hunger, feeling his digits grow slicker with my wetness as I leaked steadily around him and earning a hum of pleasure for my efforts. “So fucking sexy, watching this desperate cunt leak for me, all stretched out on your Captain’s fingers… You want more, Snowflake?” he offered, a third digit probing questioningly at my entrance. I whimpered and nodded needily, back arching to press myself closer, letting out a ragged moan as he pressed his way inside me once more, curling his fingers inside me and making me quiver uselessly.

“Fuck! Oh, God, yes – just like that, Sergeant, that- that feels so good, so- fuck, please…” I whimpered, head falling back, clawing frantically at the sheets as his hand moved faster. The touch on my clit grew firmer, caressing me in time with the fingers stretching me open, a rumble of joy building in his chest.

“Oh, you like that, hm? Look how soaked this tight pussy is, clinging to me so needily…” He drove into me harder, the room echoing with the lewd sounds of my wetness as he worked me eagerly. “That’s it, sweet boy – you take it so well! Gonna make you come with my fingers in this gorgeous cunt, and then I’m going to fuck you until you scream for me.”

My muscles clenched obligingly as I whimpered breathlessly, toes curling. I could only nod, lost in the feeling of him driving into my eager hole. There was hardly any recognition in my lust-filled mind as his fingers shifted, wetness building behind the digits, and he groaned with understanding, pressing deeply inside me for a moment longer before drawing back. The cry that left me as my pussy soaked him was feral, throat aching as I wailed, rutting against him frantically as he pressed closer once more. Over and over he fucked me open, letting my wetness coat him, before his hand moved hander on my clit, growling hungrily. “Come for me, Snowflake.”

I sobbed and trembled as I convulsed around him, jerking and grinding, breath coming in ragged pants. He didn’t slow as I moaned deafeningly, garbled pleas escaping me as each nerve in my body sang from the stimulation, only easing up when I collapsed back to the soaked sheets with an exhausted whimper, quivering helplessly, my knees falling to the bed as I wept openly. The feeling of him slowly drawing out of me make me shudder, and he shifted to curl me close against him, fingertips trailing gently over my back. “Easy – easy, sweet boy, that’s it. I’ve got you.”

I buried my face in his chest, illogical tears falling in my overwhelmed overstimulation, breath hitching as I clung to him. “F-fuck, God…”

He chuckled softly, pressing a tender kiss to my sweat damp head as he squeezed me gently. “It’s okay, Snowflake… There you go. You did so good, my love.”

I pushed my head up through my tears, blinking through water clinging to my lashes. “I- I did?”

Smiling softly, he dipped his own head to kiss me gently. “You did,” he murmured, drawing back a little and indicating his wet body. “Utterly soaked me…”

A blush built in my cheeks, and I buried back against him with a groan. “Oh God, I didn’t think I- That you- That that-… Oh, God…”

He chuckled and squeezed me close, nuzzling into my hair. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever experienced, sweet boy. No embarrassment.”

Blushing harder, I glanced up uncertainly, chewing on my lip. “It… It was?”

With a soft groan, he kissed me again, shifting his hips a little closer pointedly, his leaking cock pressing against me. “I’m a sailor, baby. I like things wet.”

I laughed aloud, leaning up to wrap my arms around his neck, leg draping over his hip to press me nearer. “I wonder how much you’d enjoy me gushing around your cock, then…” I murmured, looking up at him through my lashes shyly, inching closer until his tip brushed against my wetness lightly. He shuddered, eyes blown wide as his hand found my hip lightly.

“Are you sure, sweet boy?” he breathed, thumb smoothing gently over my skin. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want t-”

I interrupted him by pressing my lips firmly to his, fingers tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck. “I want this,” I whispered, forehead against his, “I want you. Please, Captain Tyne.”

With a nervous pass of his tongue over his lower lip, he nodded, swallowing dryly. He rolled me gently, holding my thigh lightly to keep my leg around him, his eyes on mine as the very end of him pressed against me gently. Inhaling shakily, I nodded back, feeling my eyelashes flutter closed as he slowly shifted himself inside me. My fingers tightened infinitesimally against the back of his neck as his length stretched me out, fighting the instinctive urge of my muscles to clench around the intrusion, staying still and nervous until he buried himself fully inside me. He paused, sheathed inside me, forehead finding mine as he panted. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”

My eyes opened once more to find his gaze boring into my own, filled with concern, and I owned him a lazy smile. “No,” I breathed, head falling back. “No, it doesn’t hurt. I’m… Mmm. I’m so good.” My fingers found the barely healed skin of his bullet wound, caressing the skin lightly. “Are you okay?”

He brought my hand to his mouth, kissing each fingertip in turn. “I’m perfect, Snowflake. Absolutely perfect. I don’t think it could hurt right now even if it wanted to.” His lips found mine, and I giggled, soft and nervous, as my other leg joined the first around his waist, the motion earning a quiet groan. “God, you’re like a fucking vice, my sweet boy…”

“Please,” I whispered, trailing my hands with devoted reverence over the strong arms either side of me. “Please, my love.”

My moan was breathless and deafening as he drew back patiently, eyes scanning my face for any minute sign of discomfort, but there was only pleasure at the feeling of him stretching me out, of his thick length finally moving inside me. One hand shifted to the back of my head so he could hold me tightly, hips rolling with a loving care that brought tears to my eyes once more. I whined quietly, burying my face in his neck, teeth meeting in the soft skin of his throat in a valiant effort not to cry out my delight for crew and ocean to hear.

The way he held me close, cradling me so adoringly and delicately against him, setting my body aflame as he made love to me, was almost more than I could handle. Despite words gasped in the passionate exchange of our mutual arousal, this was the perfect way for him to treat me – with reverence and sweet love, with utter respect and devotion and emphasis on my pleasure. There was no frantic rutting this time, no pleas and whimpers, only shared breaths gradually becoming heavier, the feeling of our bodies moving in tender unison, my warning coming as fingers grasping at his spine as light exploded before my eyes.

He saw me through my all-encompassing climax without faltering, holding himself back until my muscles had stopped quivering and the moans of rapture had faded to soft gasps and mewls once more. Only then did he bury himself inside me a little more firmly, my heels tightening against his back to drag him closer as he shuddered, mouth finding mine with a quiet groan, the feeling of his seed spilling around his length inside me making me inhale sharply in surprise and hold him tighter, trembling in pleasure.

He held me close to his chest, carefully maneouvered on his slowly softening cock to tuck my back against him without removing his length from where it held his seed inside me. I shivered at the feeling, panting lightly as I tipped my head back gently against his shoulder, eyes closed in exhaustion and pleasure. His arm around me tightened infinitesimally, fingers tracing unknowable patterns into the sensitive skin of my abdomen as he sighed. “Good?” I prompted at a whisper, my own hand skirting the muscles of his forearm adoringly.

“Incredible,” he breathed, pressing a soft kiss to my temple.

“It didn’t hurt?” I pressed, relieved when he shook his head against me.

“Not for a second.” His fingers stilled, pausing in their delicate ministrations, and I heard him swallow nervously. “And for you? Did it hurt? Was it… Was I… Okay?”

I turned my head to meet his gaze, the mahogany shining ochre and gold in the soft light offered by the lamp at our bedside, and kissed him softly, our lips bruised from our passion. “Not at all. It, and you…” I smiled softly, pressing my forehead to his, hand raising to caress his cheek lovingly. “You were perfect. My sweet Gregor. My amazing Lieutenant, my flawless Captain… My perfect, perfect Grishenka.”

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