her fight and fury's fiery, oh but she loves like sleep to the freezing
Perhaps to the surprise of anyone on the outside looking in, The Ark doesn’t answer the Captain's invitation with another demand. Her head shakes slowly against the pillow, blue eyes dark and hazed as they find his, because ravenous isn’t the same as foolish and she’s learned too well what happens when a captain throws more wind into sails already straining at their seams. There’s a point where speed becomes ruin, where a ship stops cutting through the water and begins to fight it, and she knows they’ve reached that edge together.
Her palm presses harder into the headboard, arm taut with the effort of keeping the motion contained between them, while her back rises beneath the warmth of his hand in one long, controlled line. The other hand grips at his shoulder, fingertips catching against the flowers inked there before slipping, unsteady now, up to cup his cheek instead. Saltwater gathers beneath her touch, warm and bright along his skin, the ocean in her beginning to breach its banks in earnest.
It starts low and deep, not as a single sharp thing but as a change in the pressure of her whole being, the sort that comes before a storm finally tears itself open. She feels it building beneath every breath, immense and inexorable, a dark current gathering force where no hand can reach to turn it aside. Her breathing goes ragged; her mouth parts around sounds she can’t quite contain, wine-dark lips trembling as she pulls nhim closer, as though she might drag him beneath the surface with her before the wave breaks.
And then it does. Pleasure takes her completely, sweeping through her with the violence and splendour of a maelstrom, until for one suspended moment she seems less like a woman beneath him than something vast and water-born, all flesh made briefly weightless beneath the force of it. Her eyes flash open, tempest-blue and piercing, and Jack’s name leaves her lips like a song torn loose from the deepest part of her. Saltwater slicks her fingers as they clutch at him, not asking him to save her from the flood but pulling him down into it, determined that if she is going to drown in the heat of him, she’ll take her captain with her.
Her palm presses harder into the headboard, arm taut with the effort of keeping the motion contained between them, while her back rises beneath the warmth of his hand in one long, controlled line. The other hand grips at his shoulder, fingertips catching against the flowers inked there before slipping, unsteady now, up to cup his cheek instead. Saltwater gathers beneath her touch, warm and bright along his skin, the ocean in her beginning to breach its banks in earnest.
It starts low and deep, not as a single sharp thing but as a change in the pressure of her whole being, the sort that comes before a storm finally tears itself open. She feels it building beneath every breath, immense and inexorable, a dark current gathering force where no hand can reach to turn it aside. Her breathing goes ragged; her mouth parts around sounds she can’t quite contain, wine-dark lips trembling as she pulls nhim closer, as though she might drag him beneath the surface with her before the wave breaks.
And then it does. Pleasure takes her completely, sweeping through her with the violence and splendour of a maelstrom, until for one suspended moment she seems less like a woman beneath him than something vast and water-born, all flesh made briefly weightless beneath the force of it. Her eyes flash open, tempest-blue and piercing, and Jack’s name leaves her lips like a song torn loose from the deepest part of her. Saltwater slicks her fingers as they clutch at him, not asking him to save her from the flood but pulling him down into it, determined that if she is going to drown in the heat of him, she’ll take her captain with her.
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.
