her fight and fury's fiery, oh but she loves like sleep to the freezing
Despite the devil’s curl at the corner of Jack’s mouth, despite knowing there’s teasing and then there’s the particular sort that might invite actual violence from the Captain, The Ark only grins back at him, wicked and wholly unrepentant. "But they’re so good with their hands," she purrs, the lie of innocence nowhere in her voice as his touch slips beneath the shirt and turns every inch of skin it finds into something newly aware.
She draws in a breath as his hands move over her properly, and deep in the bowels of the galleon, the timber gives a low, pleased groan in answer, old wood answering the warmth being drawn through her with a sound that travels softly through the hull like a pleased purr. On the deck, though her sails have been brought down while anchored, the red canvas stirs in the dark with the smallest restless flutter.
The Ark lifts her chin again as his breath trails toward her ear, blue eyes heavy-lidded and bright with the promise of the heat he’s offered. "Make me forget that the cold even exists," she whispers.
She draws in a breath as his hands move over her properly, and deep in the bowels of the galleon, the timber gives a low, pleased groan in answer, old wood answering the warmth being drawn through her with a sound that travels softly through the hull like a pleased purr. On the deck, though her sails have been brought down while anchored, the red canvas stirs in the dark with the smallest restless flutter.
The Ark lifts her chin again as his breath trails toward her ear, blue eyes heavy-lidded and bright with the promise of the heat he’s offered. "Make me forget that the cold even exists," she whispers.
sweet and right and merciful, all but washed in the tide of her breathing
Siren's Wake | After she leaves a space, traces of her presence linger briefly: a faint scent of salt, the sound of distant water, a restless feeling in the chest. People rarely notice it consciously.
