#piratesmut

[temptress-writes]

⚓️ The Endeavour

A/N: Piraterry. Nasty as hell smut. He's after some booty. He gets it and then some.

C.W: coarse language, drinking, violence, beardrrY

Sexual Content Warnings: -virgin mc -breath play. whoops. like big whoops. -blood kink -pain kink -squirting (always only the best for the gals) -beard kink (I just wanna leave it wet) -cock warming kinda (mentioned) -somnophilia (not really but a body is explored while said body is unconscious nothing explicit but wanted to list it anyway)

This smut is feral. So have fun!

Word count: 15.8k. A light meal from mama.

***

The Caribbean Sea.

1723.

The hull groaned under the shattering weight of the fierce waves, her bow slicing through swell after powerful swell.

With the tip of his hat, a burst of pride erupted in his chest at her sheer fight and force. He kept her in top shape, knowing a single slip-up would end with him and her in a sandy, unforgiving grave.

He yelled a bursting abundance of encouragement and order to his crew, who through their own sheer will and determination, held their own against the torrid waves.

They had been on the open ocean for weeks. Skewering the waves for ripples in its currents, showing the way to riches. Nothing but a captain's sheer dream to follow a path many believed to be purely fiction, rumour, and nightmare.

There were tales of an untouched island, long since forgotten by many. Except for him. The hidden place had been a bedtime story for him, his fallen mother lulling him to sleep with talk of a luscious cove, twinkling with gold and jewels, protected by sea creatures so fearsome that no one lived to warn others. Only tales made shores carried by whispering swells.

She had gone so far as to paint it for him one night, his tiny child mind so enthralled by a land he could only place as his own heaven.

Crystal clear water, a wide cove that delved into the land with hidden secrets that if reached, guaranteed the succeeder a lifetimes worth of riches.

He kept the painting. Folded it up tight and stored it in his locket, right next to his heart. It hung from the chain his father had left him, the only reminder he had of his parents before they fell ill when he was barely a teen.

With nothing but the clothes on his back and the memory of his loved ones, he had to build a life for himself. He mainly started out as a ship repairer's assistant. Holding out tools and swiped coins of gold when his boss wasn’t looking. He paid him a piece a week and it had made for some painfully hungry nights. So he’d turned to sly swiping where he could, purely to survive.

Every night, he dreamt of that cove. Of its glistening, gentle waves. Of the sea creatures that guarded the hidden heaven. Ones that he would slay with all his might, so that he may bask in the treasures they fought to covert.

An oasis he now attempted to charter.

“What do you think?” He asked his Quartermaster as he headed below deck to his quarters, his mate beside him. They entered the office, heading to the map laid out on the table, weight down by compasses and clutter.

“I think you’re on a fool’s errand, captain.” As he’d been saying for weeks.

“There will be many riches at the end of this voyage, Brigg. I promise you. It will be well worth it.”

“Say we get there, Harry,” Brigg reasoned, his hands on his hips, “what of the beasts they say that roam the waters?”

Sharks with rows and rows of vicious teeth, fearless krakens that ate ships like his for sport. Sirens lured sailors to the depths where they would toy with them before eating them limb by limb. And then there was the landscape to attest for. Jagged rocks and shallow waters that dismembered hulls like a bird's wing through the wind.

Harry himself had no clue how they’d navigate such a tight cove with as many dangers as the lore spoke of. But he was a determined man, and it had yet to steer him and his crew wrong.

He adjusted his weapon belt across his hips, his sword sitting strong in its scabbard. He’d yet to unsheathe it on this journey but had no doubt he’d have to ensure its sharpness for what was ahead.

“We’ll continue to train, Brigg. We have strong soldiers on board with us. We shall find nothing but glory.”

“If we even find the cove.”

Harry shot him an unamused look, “Adjust us to the west. The waves are mighty today, we cannot afford to be off course.”

“Yes, captain.”

Brigg left him, and he allowed a moment to feel exhausted. He threw his hat on the desk, grabbed a bottle of rum, and took a much-needed swig, not caring that it spilled past his lips and down the front of his shirt.

He stripped his frock coat from his body and sagged into his chair, staring at the map, a tiny circle in red showing where they were headed. He adjusted the wooden ship pawn an inch closer to its target.

It wasn’t even on maps long since drawn by cartographers at every corner of the earth. He’d seen it all, seen too much to be riddled by what-ifs and myths. He’d seen wonderous things on his travels, and his hope would not be dwindled by another man’s doubts.

But old stories spoke of a small island, far too small for anyone to see. Tucked away in the Caribbean Sea, warded off by treacherous swells and ravenous creatures. All guarded treasures far too priceless for any man to get their hands on.

For weeks they’d charted choppy waters, their food supply strong, freshwater abundant no thanks to the severe rains.

He felt strongly about this endeavour. Among the hundreds of treasure hunts he’d been on, this was one he felt most strongly about.

He had told no one about this trip aside from his crew. He had become a well-known pirate in England. Notorious and feared. He garnered such a reputation by playing dirty, and he gained many enemies while doing so. The last thing he needed was a rival on his tail.

His life was on the high seas, his lover his compass.

While he wasn’t opposed to bedding some maiden at whatever tavern he stumbled into once they’d ported, they were fleeting moments. He was always on his ship. The Siren. For she always called to him, longing for the dangerous adventure of the ocean.

He nestled into his bunk, knowing that not much would happen overnight. They’d port at Barbados come sunrise, halting their journey only for supplies and to stretch their legs.

He dreamt of the cove, as he always did. But this time was different. It was clearer, a soft ringing in his ears as he was drawn closer to the shore.

The dock at Barbados was rumbling with life. Much more than he’d ever seen it. It was rich with trade, with merchants from every corner of the earth gathering to sell their goods at high prices.

Harry scored some fresh fruits he could not get back in England, chewing happily as he and Brigg wandered the streets. He eyed many of the local women, winking and asking their names, wondering if they had room for him in their beds tonight.

They’d giggle, sensing his reputation as rocky as the shores before them. He had no trouble finding someone to have fun with but loved to scope out his options.

Pineapple juice dripped down his chin, the Caribbean sun blistering and unwavering. Heating him with a fire that drove his need for adventure and discovery. The sun, he thought, was another treasure. The land he came from rarely was blessed with its presence.

They passed more vendors, selling weapons and gear and ammo, maps, and repairs for ships. It had been years since he’d seen this island, it was good to see it doing so well.

An older man stood by his store. A small, quant swordsmith with an abundance of glittering weapons. Harry veered closer, intrigued. Something about his weathered expression drove his curiosity wild. He only saw such an expression in wary seamen.

“Good day, traveller.” The swordsmith’s heavy accent sounded as he sharpened a blade on a block.

“Sir,” Harry nodded. “Are you well?”

The man smiled wryly. “I will be should you give me some coin.”

“You seem well-travelled. Tell me what you know of this island.” Harry produced his map, pointing to the circle drawn in the middle of dangerous waters.

The swordsmith sagged, rubbing his aged forehead. “You will not survive it, boy.”

“So you have been there.” It was real. The sense of relief he felt at that moment was unlike any other sensation. He had been drawn to these tides by a tale. This was the first sense of reality he’d felt.

The man looked away, picking up his tools as if wanting to move on from the conversation. Harry smiled, throwing down a couple of gold coins on the workbench. The man scooped them up, counting, deliberating.

“In all my years, I have never chartered such a sea. Whatever is out there, tis real.”

“What is out there?” He threw down more coins.

“Danger. Fearsome creatures, both terrifying and beautiful. Shows you whatever you desire most and dangles it in front of you until they have you in your grasp.”

“What about the island?”

The man laughed. “Fool. I did not reach the island. I turned up on the shores here with no memory, no ship, no crew. Everything gone. Tis a curse, boy. Nothing more. Beware.”

It did little to sway his curiosity. His draw to this island was nothing to afraid of. Not a curse or a fool’s errand. It was his calling.

“Thank you, sir. Your candour is appreciated.” It would also be ignored, but he chose to withhold that fact. He slid the man more gold, purchasing a small dagger fashioned with pearls in its hilt. They glowed in the sun, and he added it to his scabbard with pride.

His hat shielded him from the torturous sun as he found his way back to The Siren, missing her familiarity. How she was every part of him, just as his bones were. His crew was washing up, sweeping the decks, and righting the gunports.

The main mast groaned as a gust blew through it, the small swells of water lapping at the hull, hungry for more. He checked in with his crew, ensuring everybody was rested and ready for the journey ahead.

“We set sail at midday. Not a minute later.” He eyed them all, pacing ahead of them as they stood in line listening to orders. “We should reach the island by nightfall. The sea ahead is dangerous, but I trust you all to get us there. Whatever we find will be ours to share.”

“Aye, Captain!”

“What if there is no gold?” One of the deckhands questioned. He was one of Harry’s newer men and had less experience on the seas than any of them. Hell. He still got nauseous when sailing, and still got on Harry’s nerves.

“When have I steered us wrong?” Harry glanced at him. “We have followed maps into the most far reaches of the sea, and have been rewarded each time for our bravery. This shall be no different.”

“Aye, Captain.” The deckhand muttered, adjusting his hat on his head.

“Prepare for sail.” Harry shouted, sauntering into his quarters to watch over the map. Brigg ensured everyone was doing their jobs, barking out orders to keep everyone in check.

Harry stared at the map for a time, feeling outside of his own mind. The wind seemed to howl, melting into a high-pitched tone that had him wincing before he blinked, back in his own boots once more.

“Keep her steady!” He yelled from the deck, his feet anchored to the barrier, his hands burning from their grip on the ropes. Sea water lashed at him, threatening to take him down to its luring depths.

The currents were strong here, his crew struggling to keep them on course. The sails whipped in the vicious winds, snapping and threatening to tether.

He had never seen anything like it. Otherworldly anger unleashed within the waves and wind, pummelling his ship with no mercy. His crew was struggling, he could sense it. See that they were unable to ride the movements of the ship, being thrown around every which way.

“Get the sail down!” He yelled out, helping at the masts. They had to coast while the wind was at its strongest. Ride it out until they could figure out their course. As it stood, he hadn’t a clue where they were.

The ocean had never been so angry. Perhaps that old swordsmith had been right. This was a curse. A festering evil. His mind flashed to creatures that could be lurking beneath his ship. A fearsome Kraken waiting to take them down and feast on their flesh while the wood and steel of The Siren rotted at the bottom of the depths.

This was a fight he could not win.

A strong wave swept over the ship, filling the deck with water, and sweeping every man off their feet. He clung onto the rope for dear life, chilled to his bones as the wind whipped at his body.

“We have to go back, Captain!” Brigg yelled over the thunder, a flash of lightning soon following it to ignite his scorned expression.

“We cannot yield!” He fought. They’d worked too hard to turn back now. Turning the ship may seal their fate.

“Cap—”

A swell whirled over the boat, this one higher than any of the ones before, sweeping Harry from his perch overseeing the deck, ready to swallow him into the currents. He clung onto the rope, his grip slipping as his calloused hand failed to comply, frozen and aching.

His hold on the rope slipped, and his stomach dropped as he began falling to the angry depths metres below him. He was being smashed against the hull, knocked back and forth like a rag doll. Held victim to the harsh elements. He yelled out, not ready to abandon his crew. His ship.

He was going to drown.

Flashes in the sky accompanied an eerie ringing, high in pitch and deafening.

And then a hand shot out, taking his as his final grip loosened. He was hauled overboard again, flopping into the saturated deck before he was out cold.

His ears were ringing. A build-up of fatigue and trauma, seared his brain as he blinked in surprise at the scene around him. He could hear Brigg calling his name, and see his crew helping each other up and tending to the wounded. After a quick head count, he knew he’d lost men.

He gathered himself, feeling the oak beneath his back was still wet. But the overpowering anger of the ocean was no more, and he listened to the gentle lapping of the waves against the hull.

His body thrummed in pain but he ignored it. He would take care of himself later. There was no time to waste when the elements weren’t lashing at them.

His chest burned at the realisation, and he stood with a groan, finding Brigg rushing to his side. It was not uncommon in this life, and it was something he dealt with every time they left the shallow shores.

“How many?” He rasped. “How many did we lose?”

“Five.”

He grimaced, still out of it, his body bruised and weathered.

“You were out for no longer than ten minutes, Captain. The storm has subsided, and quickly so. Never seen anything like it in all my years at sea.”

“The calm will not last, however, we must take advantage of it.” He strolled into the cabin, finding the map, grateful that the ocean had not destroyed it. “How far off course are we?”

“I can’t work it out. The storm derailed us completely.”

“Tis a good thing we overshot after we set sail. Recourse us west.”

“Are you sure, Captain?”

“I am. We’re close, I can feel it.”

Harry made the rounds, checking on his crew, and offering condolences even while his own heart felt too heavy for his body to carry. Everyone was exhausted. Tired. But he promised them that the reward was near.

He stood at the helm, the wheel gripped firmly in his ringed hands. The water was black, even the dim candle lighting doing nothing to illuminate it. But there was a tether inside of him, guiding him towards that cove from his dreams. He would slaughter every creature that stood in his way. Fight every rogue wave that threatened to drown him.

The Siren groaned, and he frowned, leaning forward to scope out the environment around them.

The world was dark. An onyx abyss that had the hair on the back of his neck standing up. His gaze scoured his surroundings, seeing nothing but pitch black. Everything went still, eerily still.

Harry loosed a breath, leaving his post at the helm and going to the side. Amongst the nothingness, there was a large mass, not two miles ahead of them. He wasn’t sure what he was seeing, or how he was seeing it.

But all he knew was that it was an uninhabited piece of land, surrounded by a thick disturbance, something he could not place. Could not see or smell. But he could feel it.

“Lower the anchor.” He spoke into the air, his crew not hearing him. “Lower the anchor!”

They complied quickly, working together to drop the anchor. The Siren came to a slow stop, and Brigg approached him with a raised brow.

“What is it?”

“There,” he breathed, “do you see it?”

Brigg allowed his gaze to follow Harry’s extended arm, the pointed hand. He looked beyond it, squinting.

“See what, lad?”

“The island.”

“There is no island, Captain. Just water as far as the eye can see.”

Harry shot him a look. “Tis your old eyesight failing you, Brigg. Prepare a boat.”

“It is not safe—”

“Prepare a boat.” He bit out. “This is where we need to be.”

Brigg appeared skeptical, but it was not his place to question his Captain. It was nobody’s place. A few men prepared the pinnace, lowering it down onto the gentle waves. Harry prepared himself with a heavier coat, his favourite sword, and his compass.

His whole life had been a build-up to this moment. From the bedtime stories from his dear mother to finding his feet as his own explorer. It had all been for this. For this off-the-map cove that he wasn’t even sure was real.

“I will scout first, and be back by daylight.”

“Please… be careful.”

“I shall return with good news, Brigg. I can feel it in my bones.”

Using the ladder draped down the hull, Harry lowered down into the boat, Brigg leaning down to pass him a lit lantern. He shot down the offer to have a few of his deckhands with him. This part he had to do alone.

The tiny boat bobbed on the waves, and he glanced out at the mass of land again, sensing that pulsing once more. His ears rang with the promise of fulfillment. He began rowing.

He rowed until he was halfway between The Siren and the island, and his heart began drumming uneasily against his ribcage. He could taste the sheer gratification and accomplishment.

He kept watch for the lurking creatures he had been warned about time and time again. For the dreaded sharks and Krakens, the predators swarming below them, waiting. But they didn’t show.

The ringing appeared in his ears again, shrill and stark. He winced, shooting a hand up to cradle his head.

The peal became higher. Louder. So intense that he feared for the integrity of his hearing. He stood and looked around frantically, hoping to see some source that would explain such a protruding sound.

And then it softened completely, a quiet humming next to the boat that halted his search. He crouched, leaning over the side staring at his reflection on the glass-like veneer.

A disruptive ripple broke the surface of the water, illuminated by the radiant lantern.

A girl.

She was otherworldly beautiful. And she was humming, a lulling melody that had his spine melting into goo. She smiled up at him, looking through her lashes as she bit her lip. Her eyes were so dark as if mimicking the lapping waves, though glowing once he raised the lantern further towards her.

He opened his mouth to ask why she was there. How she was so far out from the shore and in such gloomy water. But his words bubbled in his throat, dissolving before they could reach his lips. As if she’d taken them.

She was just… watching him. Her dark hair slicked back away from her face, glistening with beauty. Her chocolate skin imitated the tone of his rum and his brain went foggy as she rose a few inches, and it was then that he saw that she was naked.

“Who are you?” He managed out, his voice not his own.

She only smiled at him again, humming that addictive tune before her hand shot up, her slender fingers gripping the side of the boat, right next to his jewelled hand.

He was so mesmerised he didn’t have it in him to be scared.

“Are you lost, sailor?” Her voice was silky. Liquid pearls trapped in clouds.

He felt his body fall lax as she stared at him, her lips plump as the words left them.

Lost. A sensation he had felt many times before. And of course, he felt it these past few weeks in the search for this island. Now as he looked away from the girl and towards the island, had disappeared.

He grew startled, his mind kicking back into gear. The island. The hope he felt. The magic cove from his dreams, the one he kept in his locket next to his heart. Gone. A hazy mirage that dissipated when he hadn’t been looking.

His mouth grew dry, “I could have sworn—”

“Shh.” Her cold, wet hand clasped his where it rested on the rim of the boat. “I can help you.”

He was locked in her trance again, paralysed by her. His worry was still stagnant in his brain but his body would not cooperate, still and at her will.

“I do not—”

“Come closer.” Her soft cadence took his breath away.

He found his body betraying him, leaning forward until the boat was almost tipping over. She smiled, her teeth gleaming. Her smile snapped something in him, a longing that was all too familiar to him. The yearning that centred around the painting in his locket. The draw to it was the same as it was to her.

She began humming, louder, completely entrancing him. His brain felt numb, every thought dispersing aside from her. Like his essence was honing in on hers. He was under her spell. His sole purpose for being here suddenly didn’t matter anymore.

And that sense of loss and aimlessness was the last thing he remembered before he was submerged completely.

The sensation of it was too many things at once. A festering fear that soothing hands calmed as he sank down into the murky depths. His passion and drive and reasoning for being on the open seas reduced to nothing. Reduced to droplets blinked from stormy brown eyes.

There had been things for him to fear here. He’d heard the myths. But nothing frightened him more than the beauty of her.

He was sure that he was dreaming, but his lungs were burning, filling with salty water as he tried to scream. But there was no one to save him. Just the sounds of his own muted cries and that all too-familiar melody. It became his new actuality.

Sinking to a euphony that made him feel eerily at peace.

A phantom hand explored the expanse of his chest, feather-light and timid. It touched his arms, his face, trailing his features. Exploring and mapping.

His senses came back to him slowly, and he heard the ocean. Soft swells kissed the shore, and his hand curled into the sand beneath him. He felt that hand venture south and he coughed, his lungs burned as water bubbled up his throat and out of his mouth.

He heard a voice, a small soothing ooh that could only be placed as sympathy. He opened his eyes, wincing as he took in the bright scene before him.

The sun was blinding, offensively so, and he shut his eyes for a moment more so that he could adjust. His head throbbed, the source of a sharp pain in his left temple.

Upon opening them, he turned his head, facing the coast. The water was a bright cerulean, invitingly pristine. No signs of his ship or his crew. What had happened? His vision was hazy, a blur of visions that he couldn’t determine were real or made up. He scarcely remembered leaving the dock at Barbados. Just little blips in time but some seemed fake.

That ghost touch graced his chest again, brushing his wet lips. His gaze turned towards the feeling and a violent gasp left him as he jolted away from the source.

A girl.

What was familiar to him was her striking beauty. Big brown eyes, deep golden skin with a halo of lush curls surrounding her head. She was dressed in white, scraps of flowy material that were bound together with beads and pearls.

Her brows pulled in, and her hand reached out toward him. “It’s okay. You are safe here with me.”

“W—What happened?” He panted, stilling at the feel of his saturated clothes. His scabbard was gone, as was his hat and coat. Only his pants, shirt, and boots remained.

“I found you here.” She said gently.

He tried to stand, disoriented. He fell to the ground, his arms too weak to lift himself up.

“Please, take care—”

“I remember you.” He rasped. “I… I saw you. I—I saw you in the water.”

She reached for him, taking his hand. “You are confused. I believed your ship was wrecked.”

“N—No, I saw you—”

“We must get off the beach.”

“Where am I?”

She didn’t answer him, and her hold on his hand tightened. He suddenly felt willing. Like his body had been given a boost of strength for him to stand. He watched her, allured by her perfection, her attire. Who was she? Why was she so familiar?

His mind flashed to black water before she pulled away, her eyes pulling him in before she backed up toward the island ahead.

It was small, either side of the beach framed with jagged rocks and tall cliffs. The island itself as heavy with thick vegetation. He had no clue where he was geologically. With his memory as spotty as it was, his ship could have wrecked miles off course and left him stranded here.

“Where is my ship?”

There were no remnants of The Siren on the shore. No debris or… any sign of life for that matter. It was a chilling feeling, especially seeing as whoever this girl was wasn’t giving any answers.

She led him towards a large tree just on the edge of the shore, a tall, overhanging tree that offered sanctum from the sunshine.

“What is this island?” He called after her. “Where are all the people?”

“There are no people here.”

He stopped, watching as she sat on a giant leaf and tended to a collection of fish laid out on a rock. They were fresh, and he spied her spear leaning against the tree.

“You are here alone?”

“Sit,” she nodded to a twin leaf next to hers. “And eat. You must be famished.”

He was, but the overall confusion and fear made him nauseous. “No, thank you.”

Her eyes became stormy, just as they had in his mind. He found himself sitting, taking a leaf full of fresh fish from her outstretched hand. He feasted, not realising quite how ravenous he was.

“Can I trouble you for a boat?” He needed to get off this island. Figure out where his ship and crew were.

“There are no boats here.”

Her words made his chest sink, and more questions followed that he opened his mouth to ask, but she interrupted him.

“Where were you headed, sailor?”

Her wording worried him. Where were you heading? Like she saw his being on this island as some kind of seal doom.

“I had just left Barbados.” If she wasn’t going to answer his questions, like hell he was going to answer hers. “I do not remember much following that.”

She adjusted her position, the slit of her skirt allowing his eyes to wander the expanse of her thigh.

“It has been some time since I have seen a man.”

“Is that so?” And that explained the wandering hands he felt as he awoke.

“Many years. You are very different from the ones I have seen.” She brushed her curls from her face, her skin glowing from the sun, crushed pearls glittering her features.

“Do you rescue sailors often?”

“No, never.”

He could not place her accent. Her cadence. Dreamy and soft-spoken. Nothing like the locals of the surrounding islands. No, this he could not put a finger on. She ventured a few metres into the tree line, finding a spring of fresh water which he gulped down.

He had allowed himself to scope out the area whilst she was gone. Aside from the fish and spear, there were no other signs of life on this beach. Was she from deeper inland? Did she come here by boat?

The sunset kissed the horizon, bleeding orange hues into his vision as he tried to gather his bearings.

It was as if she could read his thoughts, sense his panic and his queries.

“You must rest, sailor.” She whispered, that lulling voice swirling through his mind. He fell asleep on the beach, exhausted, perhaps even concussed from the injury on his temple that he did not know how he received.

He woke up hours later, disorientated and lost. He felt for a moment that he was on his ship, tucked away in his cabin next to the fireplace, a goblet of rum nestled comfortably in his hand.

But his new reality set in with the harsh bed of sand against his back and the dim light of the moon offering little comfort. He jolted upright, feeling more himself than he was earlier. Had hours passed? Or days? His body was groggy and his throat was parched.

And then he’d remembered those slender hands feeding him fresh fish, offering him crisp water from the spring in the trees somewhere. The girl. Golden and mysterious.

His eyes strained to see her, but she was not where he had last seen her, and it had his back straight immediately. Had she left him? Had she been a mere dream his jumbled brain had offered up in order to keep him sane?

The throbbing in his head had dulled some, and he reached up to massage the ache only to find it damp with some form of thick paste lobbed into the wound, which felt pretty much healed.

His memory was failing him, letting him down as he raked his thoughts for any sense of clarity but there was none. He wasn’t sure what was real. Couldn’t even remember his name.

He felt his locket around his neck, his sole truth, and fumbled to open it. He withdrew the small painting and even under the moonlight, he knew the strokes by heart. He put it back for safekeeping. His soul soared with a sense of something he couldn’t make out before his eyes flittered to the sea.

It was glittering in the effulgence, seeming to call him as that humming carried itself in the wind. He felt her before he saw her, the soft breeze carrying her presence to him.

She waded in the water, her hands splayed out as she toyed with swells between her fingers. She was just as real as he remembered, and yet, he wondered if she would disperse into the water and become one with it.

He stood, his boots filled with sand, but his clothes were dry now. He watched her, slowly walk towards the edge of the water, his gaze not once leaving her. He walked into the water, keeping his movements light so as not to startle her.

And as he got closer to her, he realised that she was naked. Her hair was wet and draped down her back, her skin a golden ray of moonlight that he wanted to laze in.

She gasped, turning to face him. Her breasts were covered by her wet curls but it didn’t matter to him. He struggled to move his eyes from the view.

“Who are you?” He asked over the rolling waves.

Her eyes were bottomless. “You should be resting.”

“Answer my damn question.”

“You do not need to know who I am, sailor.”

Her eyes became black bottomless pits that had him reeling backward in fear. Every question and ounce of confusion was gone as pure terror took over. She was otherworldly in her beauty, yes. But she had something dark and sinister wading beneath her skin.

He became overwhelmingly lethargic, his body controlled by something alien. And he felt the black hole invade his memory again as she slinked into the water before he saw nothing at all.

Many nights passed. He wasn’t sure how many, and had no sense of self or time. She fished early in the morning and allowed him to eat as much as he wanted before he was resting again. His body seemed too tired and he felt as though he was chasing his own tail trying to feel some sort of energy.

She was always dressed in those soft white linens, or shreds of them, bound together with shells, pearls, and beads.

And every night, he woke, watching her splash and play in the water. Naked and free, unaware of the fact that he was watching her. He didn’t dare approach her again, too fearful that she would control his mind and take it as her own.

She was not of this earth, he realised. Too perfect and too far from his grasp to understand. He enjoyed watching her, though. Enjoyed watching her lay out in the sun and play with her curls.

He bathed in the sea, fully unclothed, and ended up ditching his flimsy shirt once he realised it was only added to the heat his body was enduring. His tattoos were stark against his skin, now golden from his days in the sun.

Sometimes she would leave the beach. She’d venture up the coast, scaling dangerous rock formations. He would always try to follow her but he would lose sight of her, trying to keep up with her agile pace but he was simply not equipped for such a trek.

He always wondered where she went, but by the time she returned, he had grown too tired to ask.

He was caged in, their little beach framed with rock and backed with dense jungle. He tried to venture into the thick vegetation but found himself thrown off by how endless and dangerous it looked.

He was beginning to question if he had any semblance of sanity in the first place. What was true? What was his foggy imagination? He did not know.

The moon was especially large tonight, sat high in the sky, a brilliant silver that glazed over the locket at his chest. His eyes closed, prepared to fall asleep like he did every night.

He often wondered why he felt okay with this. His ship was out there somewhere, maybe even intact. His crew who relied on him… he struggled to even think about it. How had he ended up here? Alone? He had not gone so far from the ship.

His thoughts haunted him, taunting him with hidden memories, slips of water, and storms. But he could only remember that vendor in Barbados and then… waking up on this beach. And her. Her eyes and her beauty. But it was hazy. Like trying to recall a dream.

The moonlight danced behind his eyelids, the waves that kissed the shore somehow calming despite the peril he felt in his chest.

That all too familiar phantom touch laced the bare skin of his chest, and his eyes snapped open. The girl was leaning over him, her eyes burning with curiosity. He sat up abruptly, but she stayed close to him, their faces mere inches apart.

His hand grabbed hers from where it had fallen into her lap. He placed it back on his chest, his eyes on hers as she explored his body, his skin warm beneath her palm. His heart was racing so fast and she smiled as if she could feel it.

Her touch melted south, brushing his lower abdomen. He sucked in a breath and her eyes softened.

“Do you like this?” She asked him, her other hand joining in mapping out his body.

“Yes.” He whispered, wanting to reach out and touch her. But his hands remained put. He knew that the ball was in her court, and she’d reprimand him if he tried to take control.

“Swim with me.”

He was in a trance as she stood, helping him up. She shed her tiny layers of clothing as they walked towards the sea, and his gaze washed over her naked body in a daze. She met his eyes as if knowing he was watching and enjoyed the attention.

After removing all of his own clothing, he tried to ignore the fact that she was staring at all of him. Intently. As if to remember his body later. And then, so quietly, she waded into the water until it was lapping at her waist and stared up at the moon.

He paddled out to meet her, in awe of her confidence as she floated on her back. The moonlight illuminated her body, the water slipping over her physique. He’d never been so envious of a body of water.

He wanted to be the one to lick and explore her coasts. Wrap his currents around her until she was fully in his control. She straightened as he came to her, her hands landing on his shoulders.

“Am I dreaming?” He breathed out as she wrapped herself around him.

“Yes,” she crooned, her lips brushing his ear. “You are dreaming, sailor.”

He released a shaky breath when her lips met his, her lips encasing his upper one while his hands found her hips. He released a groan, kissing her with such intensity that it scared him. He had no clue who he was even kissing but it simply felt right.

His body was responding in such a way that made him feel almost embarrassed. She pulled away, her expression confused.

And then his eyes snapped open, a deep breath ripping from his lungs. He wasn’t in the water with her.

But his body was wet as if he had been. His memory was missing a piece between her lips and finding himself back here. A blank space in the puzzle of his mind.

What had happened? Was it a dream? Or did she state that it was so that she could toy with his mind?

The sun was out, igniting the sea in dazzling diamonds that danced on the ripples.

By the crispness in the air and the remnants of fog, he guessed it was early morning. He sat up, searching for her.

She was carrying a woven net full of fresh fish. He frowned. Her spear was at the base of the tree, where it always was. And he realised he hadn’t once seen her use it, and the fish she’d caught never had any wounds to them.

With a sly smile, she nodded her head in greeting, starting to prepare the fish with efficiency and ease. He ate with her, wondering how to bring up their kiss last night. How he’d seemed to startle her with his arousal. He wanted to apologise. He also wanted another taste.

But as always when it came to her, his words were stunted. Lodged in his throat and dying abruptly in a burst bubble. She stood, her hips swaying as she moved before taking a seat beside him.

“When will you tell me who you are?”

“It is the same with all of you men,” she mused, running a hand through his hair. He moaned lightly at the attention, his scalp prickling with delight. “So many questions.”

“Sailors are curious by nature.”

“So I gathered.”

“You, however, are very evasive.”

“You are alone on an island with a pretty girl, what more do you need to know?” Her eyes twinkled at her tease, the sun breaking through the leaves above them and dancing across the planes of her face.

“Very pretty.” He smiled. But I need to know more. A lot more.”

The integrity of his ship and crew plagued him, but she simply smiled, her hand caressing his cheek. His beard was a contrast to his soft features, and her eyes travelled them, taking him in.

“Curiosity is dangerous here.”

“And where, exactly, is here?” He pushed.

But her lips brushed his and his memory faded, his eyes opening only to find the sky dark and the stars abundant in the sky. He blinked, confused. Only a second had passed between then and now and yet… the day was gone. And so was she.

He sat up in a rush, his body feeling alien to him. His eyes scanned the beach, searching for her. And she was there, exiting the water, the sea washing off her shores, down her bare skin, and back to the sand.

But he laid back down, not wanting her to know that he was awake. Whatever she was doing, she was in full control of him and he wanted some semblance of self. To see why she was playing all of these mind tricks on him.

She wandered towards the treeline, a way down from him, and her eyes never found him as he pretended to sleep. Like she was sure he was still sleeping soundly like she always planned.

But he was fully aware of himself now and knew he needed to act. He would find out where he was. If she wasn’t going to give him the answers he sought, then he would find them himself.

He kept his movements quiet, leaving their little respite on the beach and following her. She wasn’t hard to keep track of, following a worn-down path that she knew well. The moonlight lit the way, but he kept to the shadows so as not to raise attention to himself.

She trailed him along for ages. His boots caught on twigs and uneven forest floor but he was determined. And after a while, she slowed, gazing up at the moon before she broke into what looked like a clearing.

He waited for a while, not wanting to get caught before he sauntered forward towards the clearing. Only, it wasn’t was he was expecting. The must have been following the near coast, because he could hear small waves lapping against the rock, and he could smell the intense seawater and feel the pull of it.

It was the cove.

The one from the stories his mother would tell him when he was younger. The one in his locket, right next to his heart.

His chest felt like it was on fire, every nerve ending in his body wired with excitement and disbelief.

The cove was every bit beautiful as he’d imagined it. And then some. Bright blue water was ignited by the moonlight. It seemed to hone in on the rock pool that spilled out into the sea. There was no evidence of gold or loot, but the treasure was not that. It was the discovery itself.

Shipwrecks were abundant in the jagged rock formations, the water shallow and glorious. How they hadn’t seen their doom before them, he did not know. Almost like they’d intended to ram right through the island as if it was never there.

The rocks hugged the frame of the cove, the water heaving with wildlife he had never seen before.

And sat upon a rock, was the girl. But he was taken aback, blinking as if he were seeing things through untrue eyes. But she was there, her breasts bare to the ocean while her bottom half was unlike anything he’d ever seen before.

A tail.

A milky blue that accentuated the hue of her golden skin, scales so pearlescent it put every diamond to shame. It fanned out at the bottom, much like fish, indented rays that bled into a deeper blue, melting into the tone of the sea.

He began breathing erratically. This was another one of her mind tricks. Or maybe he was going crazy.

Her hands ran through her hair and she began singing that tune again, the melody echoing off the cove and making him stumble.

A rock loosened beneath his boot and her attention snapped up, a short shocked gasp leaving her lips as her eyes met his. She stared for a moment, and for the first time, he saw something in her that he had never seen before. Fear.

“No,” he rasped, shaking his head. “Wait!” He wound down into the cove, as she shifted off the rock, splashing into the water before swimming away. He sprinted into the tide after her, but she was long gone.

He collapsed against the rock that she had previously been perched upon. Her secrecy and her midnight swims. She had been coming here all along, hidden from him. And he had scared her away.

But he wasn’t giving up on her. He would stay put at this cove from his dreams until she returned, if at all. He would never find his own way back to the main beach.

He waited for her for hours. Until his eyes drooped, the moon mimicking as it gave way to the burning sun on the horizon.

It was as it lit the water in dazzling displays of crystallised blue that he awoke, sensing a disturbance on the surface.

He stood, stumbling and wary. He saw her dark hair break the surface of the pool before her dark eyes found his. She didn’t exit the water any further, and he saw the alarm in her gaze towards him.

“I will not hurt you,” he rose his hands, his tone pleading. “You… You surprised me is all.”

She didn’t move an inch. Hoping that in the hours following their run in that, he would have returned to the beach. But he had waited for her.

“I have searched for this island for years. I only wished to see it. No harm will come to you.”

She rose slowly, the water exposing her shoulders. He tried to keep calm, both questioning his sanity and reality itself. She was as fluid as the ocean around her, like two souls entwined.

“Many try to find this island.” She spoke lowly. “All of them mean harm, and do not leave here alive.”

He heard the threat loud and clear, but the softness in her eyes that he’d been seeing for days was no figment of his imagination.

“But you have not killed me.”

“Yet.” She bit out.

“Was it you?” He was shaking, trying to navigate the situation in which it left him alive. “Who called me here?”

“Perhaps you are hearing things only you can hear, sailor.” Her smile was wry and calculated. A feigned innocence she’d do well to mask better.

“Perhaps. Yet here I am. And you have not killed me.”

“Maybe you are already dead. You sealed your fate by coming here.”

The fog behind her wilted away, allowing his eyes to view hundreds of wrecked ships that lined the shallow shores. He wondered if one was his beloved Siren.

“My mother spoke of this place when I was a boy.”

Her mouth curved and the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

“Did she now?”

He frowned, scrambling for the locket clasped around his neck but all he felt was his own damp skin. A phantom sensation of weighted silver whispered against it. His heart dropped to his feet, a wet, bloody puddle that she could sense.

“I… I dreamt of it.”

“You dreamt of me, too.”

He blinked, in a complete daze. His sense of reality was fleeting, melting away with every swell of the sea that kissed his toes.

“That song that you hum. What is it?”

The melody rang out from the waves, and his mind lulled completely.

“Do you like it, sailor?”

“I find it soothing.”

He was trying to soothe her. Let her know that he meant to harm, that his curiosity would not endanger her. No matter how many questions he had and how confused he was. He would only face what was in front of him.

The water around her pulsed as her humming continued, melting in his ears like a gooey potion.

He felt his body being beckoned to the waves, crystal clear and serine. His feet moved before his brain did, carrying him into the current where she waited. He met her there, where her arms wrapped around his neck and she took them further into deeper water.

As if sensing his onslaught of sudden panic, she hushed him, her hand cupping his cheek.

“Trust me.” She whispered. He could feel her… her tail wrap around his legs, fluttering against him. He had been internalising whether what he saw was true or not but now he knew his eyes had not deceived him.

Her breasts pressed flush against him, her hardened nipples brought heat to his cheeks. His arousal was apparent to her and a sly smile crept across her rosy lips in an effort to quell her own feelings.

“Does it not frighten you?”

“What?”

“Me. Like this.” She murmured.

“No. I was… confused at first. But you are beautiful. I have always thought so.”

Never mind the fact that he’d been dreaming of touching her this way for days, the lower half of her was little to deter him. He knew she had a human form of sorts. The fact that she trusted him as her truest self spoke volumes.

She pressed against him further. Until he moaned and his head dropped back on his neck. His expression was one of soft bliss that she wasn’t sure how to decipher.

“I have never touched a man before. Not like this.”

Her words were spoken against the skin of his neck. Wispy and honest. As much truth as he’d ever received from her.

His eyes met hers when she pulled away. Quietly, he asked, “Would you like to?”

“I don’t know how.”

His hands melted down her bare sides, meeting cold scales at her hips. “I can show you.”

“Please.” It was the softest he’d ever seen her. He took one of her delicate hands in his, guiding it down between them. Between his legs, where he was hard and pulsing, and yet, she’d done nothing. But her simple existence was enough to drive him wild.

She gasped as he encouraged her to grip him properly, and she did so gingerly, simply feeling him and exploring him. Far more intensely than she’d done when he was on the beach unconscious.

“That feels nice.” He encouraged.

“This is what you like?” She stared up at him with big brown eyes, and his resolve became a fine glass desperately close to shattering.

“This, and much more.”

“I would like to do that.”

“I would, too.” His hands found her hips again, her smooth stomach, and her gorgeous tits. Gently squeezing and touching.

She was putty in his hands as they wandered and ventured her body. Her scales were sharp and he winced as he sliced his fingertip on one of them.

He lifted his hand from the water, crimson slipping down his hand. He frowned at the wound, his eyes finding hers as her hand grabbed his, bringing his finger to her lips to leave a kiss on it. Her lips were stained red, and the touch of her lips sealed the wound, healing it right before his eyes.

“How many tricks do you possess, siren?”

“More than you will ever know, sailor.”

“Show me your favourite one.”

Her legs appeared, the scales seeming to shed from her skin and slink away into the current around them. He gripped her thighs, lifting her up and encouraging her to wrap them around his waist.

He moaned at the connection before her lips found his, soft and calm as the waves that lapped against the walls of the cove. The familiarity was welcome to him. He’d had her like this before. On the beach nights ago, before his memory became hazy and he awoke on the beach a start.

He guided the kiss, sensing her hesitation and fear. But he held her tight, kissing her softly yet tenderly, allowing her to follow his lead. She did so well, just as lost in him as he was her.

Her lips were soft, plump, and tasted of the sea. He wondered what her shores would taste like, lapping waves and unpredictable currents. An aromatic bliss he longed for.

He ground his clothed cock against her bare core, moaning against her mouth without shame. As if knowing his apparent enjoyment would make her far less apprehensive. He carried her from the waves, laying her flat on the damp sand before leaning over her.

“Your beauty is beyond anything I have ever seen.” He murmured, cupping her cheek and allowing his thumb to brush over her lips. She flicked her tongue out with a small smile before he pushed his digit past them. His brows turned in as she sucked on it.

Her hand reached between them, squeezing his cock with far more confidence than moments ago. He encouraged her higher to pay attention to the sensitive head of his dick, and she was rewarded with a breathless moan that escaped from his soft lips.

“What does it feel like?” She wondered aloud. “To be touched in such a way.”

“It feels… warm. Explosive and tight and blissful.”

Her eyes lulled at the description, and she could no longer ignore the primitive pulse between her legs that she’d never felt before.

“Make me feel it.” She whimpered. The neediness in her tone was all he needed to hear for him to snap.

He crushed his lips against hers, allowing his tongue to meet hers, messy and wet and obscene. The noises they were both making were even more so, and it took all of his willpower to not finish in her hand. He grabbed her wrist, pinning it to the sand by her head.

“I will be gentle.” He spoke against her temple. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“How will it hurt?” She had to ask, wanting him to be as feral and true as he could, whatever it entailed. All she knew was that he felt so fucking good and she wasn’t sure how it could get better or what would even ensue.

“This ends with my cock inside of you, pretty girl. You’ll be tight but I will make sure you’re ready for it. It will not hurt. Not with me.”

She gripped his shoulders in awe, not quite understanding what he meant but her body was flooded with a rush of arousal that he saw darken her eyes. He kissed her again, his hands exploring her chest, toying and squeezing until she was a writhing mess.

He adored her body. Cherished it with lush kisses and his beautiful hands, kissing her tits and her stomach and neck. Alternating where his touch was so no inch of her felt left out. His teeth nipped at her hips and she unintentionally rutted them up towards the touch.

He smiled against her, licking a bold stripe along her abdomen with a hum. His lips went south, and her eyes widened in shock.

“It’s okay, precious. It will feel so good.”

His hands gently coerced her legs to open so he could settle between them. He didn’t dare look anywhere aside from her face as his hands squeezed her delicious thighs, spreading up over her stomach again before veering back down.

And then his eyes settled between her legs and he let out a raspy moan.

“So pretty here, too.” He complimented and a flash of heat warmed her body. “Have you ever played with her?” He asked, his thumb coming to gently sweep over a particularly sensitive spot that made her gasp. “Like this?”

“N—No.”

“No?” He tutted. “That’s a shame, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know how.” She eyed him, crazed for his touch already, her legs shaking.

“I can show you.” He hummed, brushing his thumb over her clit to entice a small whimper from her. “Would you like that? For me to play with her? Make you feel things you’ve never felt before?”

“Please.”

“I like that.” He smiled, using a finger to gather her wetness, going back to her clit to rub small circles. “Say it again.”

“Please…” She whispered. “Please.”

“So polite, pretty girl. Begging me to touch this gorgeous cunt.” He applied more pressure, rewarded with a loud moan from her parted lips. “Oh, you poor thing. You’ve never been touched like this, have you? You’re dripping onto my hand.”

“More,” She gasped out. “please, give me more.”

“I will. Be patient. Need you to be as wet as possible, I don’t want to hurt you.”

She made a high-pitched noise at his words, how gentle and caring and dirty he was. This world he knew so much about, and yet she’d only dipped a toe in.

His fingers worked her slowly, dipping back to her gooey centre to spread her growing wetness to her clit, drawing soft circles as she grew accustomed to having someone touch her this way. She was so wet and creamy that it had his eyes blurry.

“Is that nice?” His voice was dreamy as he watched her shake.

“Very.” She sighed.

“I have barely started.” He smirked at her and she threw her head back as he quickened both his pace and his pressure.

“What more will you do?”

He kissed her thighs, so close to where he wanted to taste. Fuck, she was so sensitive. Her thighs twitched and threatened to clamp around his head were it not for him holding them in place.

“I like that I am the only one who has touched you here. You will only know pleasure to come from me. You have no idea how hard that gets me.”

“Let me feel you again.”

“Not yet, pretty. Be patient, remember?”

“Please—”

He growled, coming up to face her, his forehead pressed against hers as he clenched his teeth. “You touch me, and this will be over before we can get to the best part. Do you understand?”

She fucking melted beneath him, submitting to him, her eyes wide and watering as she stared up at him. She nodded meekly, his hand still at work between her legs.

“That’s a good girl.”

He resumed his former position, nestled between her legs. The sight of her was staggering. If he was homesick before, he wasn’t now.

“Fuck, sweetness. I have to taste you.”

She frowned, snapping her gaze to him. “Taste me? Wh—” She cried out at the feel of his facial hair against her core before his wet tongue came to greet her. She sobbed out in relief at the contact, shaking against him as he gently flicked his tongue on her.

He moaned obscenely loud as he took a full lick of her, gathering her sweet taste on his tongue, and swallowing with a low hum. He sucked firmly on her clit, swirling the tip of his tongue until she was shaking so hard that he had to hold her down.

Her hands reached out, searching for something to hold onto, feeling out of her depth and overwhelmed while he ate her. He grabbed both of her hands with one of his, placing them in his hair.

She gripped his long curls, anchoring herself to him.

He pulled away momentarily to rasp out, “Pull my hair.” Before resuming. She listened, fisting and pulling at his locks as she got fucking ruined.

A warmth built up in her stomach and she felt her body tingle. He pulled back, wiping his face on his anchor tattoo before his eyes met hers.

“I’m going to use my hands now, pretty. Stretch you a little, make sure you can take me.”

She only nodded, unable to breathe, and not sure what he meant. But with how good he was making her feel, she was happy to ride the wave of him.

He circled her clit again, always paying attention to it, while his other fingers ran up her centre, watching her drip for him. He slowly, so so slowly, circled her entrance with a lone finger, pushing in.

She gasped, her spine straightening.

“Shh, pretty girl. Relax for me.”

She tried but felt so tightly wound from his touch that as he gave her his finger, she could have exploded. It didn’t hurt, per se, but there was some form of a foreign sensation there.

“Is that okay?” He checked in. She nodded and hummed, jaw dropping when he withdrew his finger just to pump it in again. “And this? Is this okay?”

He watched her expression, a cocky and all too knowing grin gracing his face. “Oh, you like that, don’t you? Feels nice in your tight little cunt.”

His mouth was filthy, only adding to her heaping arousal. She was so over her own head and any and every thought revolved around him and what he was doing to her body.

He returned his mouth to her clit, sucking, flicking, biting. Obsessed with how she felt and tasted. Her reactions were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. Pure bliss gracing angelic features, moans, and hums sounding from her throat, sounding much like that tune that was often carried in the wind when she was near.

Adding another finger once she was saturated, he fucked her with them. Slow yet deep, scissoring them to get her used to the stretch. He knew she’d struggle to take him, but the way she was writhing for him made him think she’d be delirious once she’d gotten used to his cock.

“That’s it,” he spoke against her. “My pretty girl is so wet. Do you like my fingers? Hm?” She nodded, feeling insane. “You do, yeah.” He drawled. “Wait until you get my cock, pretty girl. You’ll be fucking dripping.”

She moaned loudly, so loud that it echoed off of the cliffs encasing them. He took her harder, biting her clit harshly. She felt as if she were about to unravel, a completely unnerving sensation as she melted into his touch more and more.

He worked her harder and faster, the muscles in his arms flexed as if sculpted and molded from marble. The sight alone had her struggling to take a breath in. She watched him command her body in a way that she didn’t know was possible, his mouth paying full attention to her clit whilst his fingers destroyed her from the inside out.

Her body thrummed as if coming to life. Burning hot, with searing blood in the currents of her veins. She tightened up, tensing, her body on the verge of something she didn’t know how to gauge.

“What’s happening—”

“Shh, pretty girl, it’s okay. This is what your body wants, let it happen.”

She cried out sharply, her voice a chorus of golden bells that made his ears ring with desire. She exploded around his fingers, into his mouth, all over his chest. He moaned along with her, equally as turned on.

He came over to her, kissing up her body on the way. “How did that feel?”

“Incredible,” she gasped, “I’ve never… felt that before.”

No words had ever been sweeter to him. He kissed her, allowing her to taste her orgasm on his lips and tongue. She hummed, allowing her leg to hitch up onto his hip, drawing him closer.

He rutted his cock against her, her wetness seeping through the thin material of his drawers.

“Can I touch you now?”

He sighed against her mouth. “Yes, pretty girl.”

She mewled, reaching down to cup him. He moaned, kneeling to remove his drawers. She couldn’t hide her reaction to the sheer beauty of him. She’d never seen a man like this before and didn’t even know such a sight was possible. His body was toned, tight, with broad shoulders and a nipped-in waist.

His tattoos were forms of art, decorating his beautiful body. From the ferns on his hips to that fucking tailed woman on his arm. He was truly faced with his fate.

She traced a shaking hand along his defined stomach, his abs trembling beneath her touch. He allowed her to touch him, enjoying the feel of her delicate hands on him.

“That’s it, sweetness. Take your time.” His voice was so deep she felt it in her clit. She hummed out a soft noise.

“How do you like to be touched, sailor?”

He dropped his head back on his neck with a moan before focusing back on her, her eyes alive with intrigue and a little bit of fear.

“Like this,” He guided her hand to his bare cock, and she gasped at how hard and scorching hot he was.

“It’s… you’re so big.”

“You can handle it, sweetness.”

He pulsed in her palm as he showed her how to touch him, moving her hand back and forth. He allowed a string of saliva to fall downwards onto his length.

The added moisture made him whine, thrusting his hips into her hand.

“What else?”

“Here.” He grabbed her spare hand, taking it to his balls, and showing her how to touch them. He whimpered as she massaged them, gauging his reaction as to how hard to do so.

He cursed loudly as she sped up her hand, bowing over her to kiss her deeply, messy and needy. His tongue met hers in a frenzy.

“Use your mouth, sweetness. Need to feel you gag around me.”

“H—How?”

She had heard of no such thing, but how he had used his mouth on her, she knew it had been nothing short of magical.

He helped her stand, taking her over to the flattened rock where she had been resting before. “On your back.” He ordered, his voice low and rumbling with demand.

She did as she was told, happy to let him guide her. She was soon on her back, the rock smooth and familiar to her. One she’d spent hours on, basking in the sun, memorising tunes, and counting the pretty shells she’d scored from blue depths.

He groaned at the sight; her hair fanned out around her, her cheeks flushed from her orgasm, and her legs pressed together to curb her arousal for him. He walked around until he was looking down at her face.

Taking a solid step forward, he cupped her throat, the mermaid flexing against his skin. Muscles rippling beneath its inked scales.

And then the siren before him, mystical and eerie. Dangerous and yet… she was here on her back for him, waiting for his next command.

“Grab it.” He ordered, stepping closer. Her hand wrapped around his cock, expertly massaging and touching. His jaw dropped as she smiled, obsessed with how he felt.

“Does every man look like this?”

“No one is this lucky.” He smirked. She giggled at his jest, his confidence unmatched. “Open your mouth, siren. Let me see where I’m going to fuck you.”

She made a small sound, almost like a helpless animal, and dropped her jaw.

“Obedient little thing. Stick out your tongue.” She obeyed. “Yeah, that’s it. There we go.”

He moved forward until his cock, still held in her hand, was in her face. She eyed it, intimidated and lost.

“Lick it.” He said softly.

“Where?”

He guided his tip towards her, “Right there.”

She gave him a single, small lick. Timid and shy. But the fucking noise he made had her legs trembling with desire.

“Take your time.” He spoke gently as her mouth explored him, getting used to his sheer size, memorising each vein. Licking his entirety with pleased little hums.

“Wrap your lips around it—fuck, just like that.”

She took his head past her lips and his whole body trembled. He pushed her hair from her face, not wanting anything to obstruct his view.

He encouraged her hand to play with what she couldn’t yet fit in her mouth.

He cupped her cheek, holding her still. “I’m going make you take it, okay? Tap my leg if you need a breath.”

She nodded.

“Use your words.”

“Okay. Yes.”

He held onto the sides of her neck, slowly working his cock deep into her mouth, further and further until he could feel her throat constrict around him. She gagged at the assault and he pulled back.

“Is that—”

“Don’t stop.” She rasped and he groaned at how eager she was.

He fucked her throat, slow and steady even though his whole body was trembling. “Oh, you like this, don’t you?”

She whined around his length, her eyes watering, streams falling down her temples. But she didn’t want to stop. She wanted him to feel the pleasure that he made her feel. She was ravenous for it, to hear his blissed-out noises and see what happened when he met his end. Would it be like hers? Stronger? Wetter?

“Fuck,” He whined as she let him take full control and use her throat. To think she had never experienced anything remotely close to this, and here she was, being so good for him and so open and willing. Maybe he really was dreaming.

Her hands reached out, one bracing on his muscled thigh, right over the inked tiger. The other went to his balls, heavy and warm in her palm as she played with them just as he showed her.

“That’s so good, little girl.”

She gagged at the praise, stumbling before her jaw clamped, her teeth nipping around his shaft. He hissed, pulling back.

She gasped, “I’m sorry. I hurt you, I—”

“No, pretty girl. Don’t be sorry.” He cupped her cheek, kissing her swollen lips, licking away salty tears. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You don’t have to be gentle with me. Do it again.”

“But—”

He gripped her neck. Not tight, but enough to show her who was in charge. The sun burnt through the fog, igniting their display in honey gold and diluted berry. He kissed her. Too far gone.

“Bite me. Hit me. Do whatever you want to me.”

Her eyes darkened, the calmness leaving her face. There was nothing but pure danger there now. As turned on as he was, he felt fearful at the expression. She pushed him back, too hard, and he stumbled onto his back, flopping onto the sand. Helpless before she straddled him, kissing him hard enough to take his breath away.

She bit his lip, soft at first, but then he let out a sharp yelp when she bit down with force enough to make him bleed. He growled, feeling the warm rush of it seep down his chin. She lapped it up, mewling and grinding her wet cunt against his stomach.

“You are fucking insane.” He gaped, his shock melting into laughter when she smiled manically at him, blood dripping from her mouth.

She allowed his blood to trickle back into his face as she leaned over him.

“What was it you said, sailor? Do whatever I want to you?”

“Anything you want.” He affirmed as soft waves lapped at the back of his head.

The curve of her lips tilted up, her hand coming up to lovingly cup his cheek. So gentle and tender. His heart careened in his chest before her hand abruptly flew up to his forehead, pushing it down until his head was submerged in the salty waves.

He gasped on instinct, the water invading his lungs with a sharp burn. His hands clawed at her wrist but the currents were her home. She held the power here.

Anything you want.

She allowed him to breathe, gasping and blubbering. He glared at her, his chest heaving.

“You little—”

She tilted her head, that fucking tune melting in his ears. Her other hand reached back, gripping his cock in a tight fist. He moaned loudly, whatever insult was lost in the ocean at his back.

“You like that, don’t you?” She threw his words back at him and he whimpered, nodding. His lip stung, the salt water invading the hurt.

“Yes.”

“Mmm.” She hummed before pushing his head back under the waves. Her hand fucked his throbbing dick with such a might he feared he was going to finish all over himself. His chest burned with the lack of air, but he welcomed the panic, and allowed it to fuel how fucking good she felt.

She let him catch his breath, feeling kind as she quickened the pace of her hand, paying extra attention to just the tip of him with the pad of her thumb.

“Fucking filthy g—”

And he was under again, his head submerged while he writhed underneath her. He could feel how insanely wet she was, near on dripping onto his skin, and his hips ground up into her hand, unashamed.

She moved to his side, letting him breathe before her mouth was on his dick again, licking and biting and sucking. Not letting his balls feel left out, even biting harshly into his hips until he was bleeding there, too.

He was dunked under the water for longer and longer each time, the fear making his body shake, self-preservation kicking in while his orgasm loomed right behind it.

She pulled away from his length, moving to straddle his chest, her hands encasing his neck.

“You liked that? The burning in your chest?”

God, if she drowned him he’d probably come at the same time. He groaned at the prospect.

“Let me taste her again.” He gripped her hips, trying to move her up. “Take a seat.” He gestured to his face. “Right here.”

She could feel her body thrum with need all over again, dripping down her thighs at the pleasure she’d been able to give him. She moved up, getting comfortable as she sat on his face. She whimpered at the feel of his facial hair, his beard thick against her.

His tongue flicked out, teasing and slow before she fully collapsed down onto him, giving him no choice but to completely devour her. The water encased him again, and he tasted her and the waves together.

She let him breathe every now and again, but he didn’t stop eating her. He’d been starving for a taste this euphoric all of his life and he was getting fucking drunk off of it.

Her second orgasm was far more intense than the first. Maybe it was because she knew not to be afraid of it. Maybe it was because the man giving it to her was fighting to breathe while he took care of her.

It was a burst of white light that brought shame to the sunrise around them. She cried and sobbed and whined, shaking, falling forward at the intensity of her pleasure. It was so wet. A stream of liquid erupted from her core, drenching him. He drank it, his beard  saturated in her orgasm.

It flipped something inside of him. Some feral, animalistic need. He grabbed her, placing her on her back, the shore lapping at her body before his tongue went to join it.

He kissed her, tasting himself, her, the sea, and his blood between them.

“I want it inside,” she whispered as she gripped his aching cock. “Just like you said.”

“Let me calm down, I don’t want to hurt you.” He muttered, kissing her again, messily whilst his hips rutted up into her hand.

“I want it to hurt.” Her eyes were full of desire.

His head fell into her neck, “Shh.”

“Please… please, I need to feel it.”

“Stop talking. You have to s—stop talking.”

“I need it inside—”

“Shut up.” He growled, taking her hand away from him and pinning it next to her head. “Shut up, pretty girl, please.”

His hand ventured south between her folds, feeling how wet she was before he gave her two fingers, hooking them up against a spot that had her spine turning into jelly.

“You have to be ready.”

“Please, I’m wet. I’m wet. Just give it to me. Stretch me. I don’t care if it hurts.”

Her jaw dropped as he moved his fingers faster. “One more time. One more time and I’ll give you my cock.” He clenched his teeth as he worked harder. “I’m so big, sweetness, drench me again so I’ll fit.”

She cried out, gripping his wrists with both of her hands. She thrashed beneath him as he fucking annihilated her.

“Good girl.” He praised her as she exploded around his fingers. “Do as you’re told, there we go.”

She sobbed, struggling to take in oxygen as she writhed in pleasure. He muttered soft praise and words of encouragement, telling her how pretty she was, how ethereal, how good she felt milking his fingers.

“I can’t wait to feel you do that around my cock, pretty. Want you to cream all over me until I say you’ve had enough.”

“Please give it to me now.” She begged, near tears.

“Yeah, beg for my cock, precious girl.”

“I didn’t know I could feel like this. I need it, please. Please let me have it.”

“Oh, look at you. Cock drunk before you’ve even taken it.”

“Please.”

“Are you wet enough?” He mused, his fingers still exploring, knowing very well how much she was dripping. “Do you think you can take this big cock? Hm?”

“I promise.”

“You promise? You’re such a sweet girl for me.” He kissed her, lifting her legs up to hug around his waist. “I’ll go slow, okay? You don’t have to do a single thing. Just lay back and take it.”

“Okay, sailor.”

He groaned at the nickname, reaching between them to hold his cock, running it against her centre to gather her dripping wetness, moaning at the feel of it. He watched her face as he gently pressed in, swallowing her gasp as she gripped his shoulders.

Yes, she was obscenely wet, but the sting was still there. Sharp yet thrilling. And he had barely done a thing. He pushed in further, angling one of her legs up higher so she was able to take it easier. He was about halfway in now, his head foggy at how tight she was.

She hissed. “Oww.”

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, I know it hurts. You’re doing so well. Good girl. You’re so tight, so fucking wet.”

He didn’t move his hips, didn’t give her any more of his length until she was ready. Mewling and whining for more.

“You’re too big.” Fuck the way she was looking at him was driving him crazy. Awe and fear at the same time.

“You can handle it, precious. You promised.”

“I promised.” She nodded, her face out of it, brows turned up and her jaw dropped.

“That’s right. I’m going to feed you my cock until you can take it all. I know it’s big but you can do it.”

She whined, wiggling beneath him in discomfort as he gave her a little more. He was finally able to press fully inside of her, moaning as her walls rippled around him.

“How does it feel?” He asked her, his chest heaving.

“Full. Complete. It’s starting to hurt less.”

“Fuck, that’s… good. That’s so good.”

“Can you please move? Just a little bit?”

“Y—Yeah, I can move.”

He retracted all the way until only his tip was nestled inside of her before slowly rolling his hips forward. They moaned in unison, and her nails clawed at his skin.

“Faster.”

“Faster? You like when it hurts?”

She clenched her teeth together as he pumped into her. “Yes. Oh, right there.”

“What a good girl. Taking my dick even though it hurts. Are you going to cry?”

“More, please.” She begged, enjoying the dulling pain. The bite of it lessened, his eyes as deep as her ocean she frequented. They sparkled, alight in the sun as it beamed on them.

Tears of pleasure and pain fell from her brown eyes as he took her harder, screwing into her with sheer power, though his pace was still controlled.

“Fuck. This pussy isn’t used to being used like this, hm? Clenching around me like you won’t let me go. I’ll stay inside you for as long as you want, pretty girl. This is my cunt now.”

She moaned loudly, throwing her head back, the waves lapping at her hair. The way in which he spoke was driving her wild. His body was ensuring insane euphoria, and his words only added to it. Clearly well-versed in how to please a woman and it made her seethe at the idea of him with anyone else.

“Stop squeezing me like that, you’ll make me come.”

“I can’t help it.” She whimpered.

His expression softened. “Aw, does my cock just feel too good? Are you going to get wet on it? Yeah? Want to feel you explode on me. Give it to me.”

“I can’t yet.” She was too overwhelmed, still trying to get accustomed to the feel of him.

“Oh, you can’t? Is that what you think?” He stared down at her, his hips snapping fiercely against her. “Think again.” And his hand reached down, rubbing sweet circles on her clit. She cried out, her nails ripping into his skin so deep that she drew a worrying amount of blood.

“That’s what I want. Make me bleed while you cream all over me. Fucking crazy little girl.”

She stared up at him, her eyes swarming with terror. He was taking her mind and body to places she didn’t understand. Using words she didn’t know how to grasp. But she felt like she was on fire. His cock was so deep and so big while his hand played that sensitive area just above where they were connected.

“You’re about to… God, I can feel it.” He spat out, his eyes squinting. “So fucking tight around me.” She was so wet, too. The sounds that came from between them were making his ears ring.

“Please don’t stop.” She begged. “I want it again, so so bad.”

“You want me to make it hurt again?”

“Please!”

“Nasty fucking—” He grunted, his arm straightening as he leaned over her, fucking her harder until she was crying out in pain. But she liked it. Liked the sharpness of it. How he was massaging a special spot inside of her that was making her feel lightheaded.

His hand stayed playing with her clit, and he spat down onto his fingers to get her even wetter. The dirty sight had her screaming, exploding messily around his cock that he had to fight to stay embedded inside of her.

“That’s my girl. Precious little thing. You’re addicted to this, aren’t you? Can’t stop fucking coming.”

She nodded, feeling crazed out of her mind. He pulled away from her, flipping her onto the rock, bending her over the smooth obsidian. He spread her legs, tucking his throbbing cock back into her snug walls.

“Mmm. So fucking wet, gushing on my dick like a whore. You were made to take me.”

She clawed at the rock, begging for mercy. His hips hit her ass at every powerful thrust, his hands digging into her sides so hard she knew that it would bruise. The idea of having any sort of physical reminder from this interaction had her shaking.

“Harder, sailor.”

His hand grabbed her hair in a fist, pulling her up until her back was pressed to his chest.

“Captain.” He spat out. “You’ll refer to me as captain.”

“Yes, captain.” She rasped.

“Good girl.” He praised, biting into her shoulder. “Say it again.”

“Take me harder, captain. Make me cry.”

He moaned, fucking her hard and fast, her ass reddening from the force of his drive. The pain was almost overwhelming, her body wanting to satiate the pain but wanting to take him even more.

He could feel her body becoming lax as his cock massaged that spot inside of her, the hurt of his size waning as she completely melted around him. A wet, hot furnace welded together just for him.

Her skin almost glowed gold, and it was then that he realised that she had been the treasure all along.

He moaned softly, his body coming to cocoon hers against the rock. His pace slowed down, deliberate and delicate. She gasped at the roll of his cock inside her, how much more intimate it felt now that he was holding her.

“Pretty girl,” His lips found a sweet spot right below her ear. “So glad I found you.”

She stifled a whimper as he took her, whispering little sentiments in her ear that made her legs tremble. How he’d spent all of his life searching for something, riding vicious tides and sailing dangerous winds. He’d found gold, priceless treasures, and uncharted waters.

But nothing could have prepared him for how fulfilled he felt at this moment. Wrapped up in a beautiful body that no one had the privilege to map out and explore.

Wanting to see her face, to see those deep eyes and plump lips, he placed her on her back. His touch was so gentle that it didn’t feel real. Like he was a phantom of dreams he’d yet to have.

He stepped forward between her spread legs, always his good girl. Her hand wrapped around his cock, which was saturated in her orgasms, and guided him back to her wet haven. He moaned loudly as her walls squeezed around him, delighted to have him within her body once more.

She whined loudly, “Don’t ever stop.”

“I won’t, precious girl.”

She was near tears as he began to slowly fuck into her, his chest pressed tightly against hers.

“Do you promise?”

“Until my last breath.”

She threw her head back, and he took the opportunity to suck and nibble and kiss the skin, a soft sheen of sweat on his tastebuds as his cock throbbed inside of her.

God, she felt insane. Like her body had been immersed in a potion specifically aimed to make him crazy. He stopped fucking her, taking her in with his lust-speckled eyes. Her hips began moving at their own accord, screwing into him mindlessly, searching for release again.

He growled, holding his hands behind his head. His muscles flexed at the action, inked skin rippling.

“Is this what you wanted when you found me washed up on the beach? To fuck yourself on my big cock?”

“I don’t know, captain.” She cried. “I saw you and just knew I had to save you.”

“Thank you, pretty girl. Thank you for saving me.” He leaned down, fingers splayed across her jaw as he kissed her messily.

She made a restless noise. “Take me again.”

“How do you want it?” He asked against her lips.

“Fast.”

“Anything else?”

“I like when you touch me.”

“You like it when I touch your pretty little clit?”

“Please touch it.”

“I will, I’ll never leave her out. I’ll rub your clit while my cock destroys you until you’re gushing all over me.”

“Will you… feel like I do, too? Can you?” Her cheeks heated at the question, hating that she knew absolutely nothing about any of this.

“Yes, I’ll come. I’m going to come so deep inside of my girl. That’s what she wants, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” She whined.

“You’ve turned cock dumb, haven’t you? Just aching to taste my cum off my cock after I’ve destroyed you with it.”

“Fuck, please! Just fuck me, make yourself come. Please.”

“Do you want me to use you? Hm? Nothing but a little fuck hole for me? Is that right?”

“Yeah.” She gasped, sobbing.

“You give me one more. One more and I’ll fill you up with my cum.”

“I can’t!”

“Does it hurt?”

It was starting to hurt again, from the intrusion of his heavy thrusts and how often he’d played with her.

“Yes, captain.”

“And if I rub this poor little clit better?” He reached between them, his thumb pressed to her clit to rub firm circles. “How’s that?

“So good.” The words were barely registrable beneath her moans.

“So good,” He breathed out. “My good girl.”

“Yours.”

The sentiment ripped through him like a fierce wind that almost knocked him off of his feet. Yours.

He took her as hard as he possibly could, his chest burning at the exertion. He spat on her clit, though she hardly needed the extra moisture. He flicked, pinched, and rubbed at the sensitive bundle of nerves until she was a crying, shaking mess that exploded forcefully around his cock.

“Fuck, I love that. Messy girl, soaking me like that. So fucking pretty.”

She clawed at his chest, not caring when he hissed and winced at the sharp pain. She knew he liked it. Her cunt trembled relentlessly around him, drawing his own orgasm closer and closer.

“I want it.” She whined as he hugged himself to her, arms wrapped around her to keep her where he wanted.

“You want my cum?” He moaned in her ear, her body his own heaven. “Gonna fill this tight little cunt up with it. Are you gonna take it? Yeah?”

“I’ll take it!”

“All of it? Do you promise?”

“I—I promise, captain.”

“Gonna make you keep it inside of you.”

“Oh, fuck—“

He didn’t know much of how her body worked but hoped that leaving part of his own would become something more. Any sense of permanency on this fucking island was welcomed, especially if it was with her.

“Will you let me stay here? With you?”

“I’d never let you leave anyway, sailor.”

Days ago such words would have him cowering in fear. But hearing them now… it did unspeakable things to him. Spurred his orgasm from a soft tingle to a crackling fire.

“I’ll stay.” He whimpered against her lips. “Fuck you right here until I’m drowning in you. Make you take my cum and keep it inside of you until I’m hard again.” He grunted, fucking her so hard that his teeth were vibrating. “You like that? You want to keep my spent dick inside of you until I’m ready to fuck you again?”

She cried out at the sheer power behind his driving thrusts, his cock achingly hard inside of her, pulsing and throbbing as he neared his end.

“Give it to me, captain. Please let me have your cum.”

Her voice was soft, wispy dreams sent gliding over foggy waters.

He burst inside of her with a loud moan, one that careened in soft echoes around the cove. She gasped at the feel of his cum coating her used walls, her cunt rippling at the sensation. He was beautiful as it was, let alone when he was coming.

His expression was one of undiluted bliss, though he almost looked as if he were in pain. His soft lips parted to allow her the view of his two front teeth, his brow furrowed, sweat dripping from his temples in gentle beads.

She cupped his cheek, her heart breaking at what he wished he had been promised.

His eyes found hers as he came down, staying deep inside of her, his hands flexing against her sides.

Her skin felt cold, he noticed. Far more icy than what he’d felt before. Abnormally so.

“Am I dreaming?” He asked, his voice not sounding like his own. His chest burned as if the air had been ripped from them, abruptly and harshly. He coughed, unable to find a source of oxygen even though he was here… on the beach.

He blinked, the sun disappearing. It was all grey, a deep haze as his eyes struggled to adjust. The waves lapped at his body as the tied came in, swarming at his skin like it was magnetised to him.

“Yes, sailor. You are.” Her voice. Cold and evil. The tune pierced through her words. He opened his eyes and the sting in them was immense. He screamed in pain, only for water to invade his mouth and nose, filling his lungs.

The cove was stripped away, in its place a deeply submerged trench. One that he had been somehow forged into.

And her. His siren. Her eyes dark pits, her scales shimmering with divine wickedness. Her tail swirling through currents she knew how to hold. He was drowning. He had drowned. He could not tell what was real, only that his body was no longer part of him.

Her hand reached out to him, touching his forehead as she had on the beach.

And he saw flashes. Flashes of the cove shrouded in gold. Flashes of her body and his body. Their joining. Flashes of death and suffering. Flashes of his ship and an angry storm that took it.

He had not left his ship.

He had gone down with it.

***

taglist :

@keepdrivingkisses @lolyouallsuck @victoria-styles @harrysonlylover

[temptress-writes]

Fuck it. A Pirate Harry Daydream.

The Endeavour ⚓️

Coming soon! 🧜🏽‍♀️