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You were just curled up in the window seat in your bedroom, reading your book, sipping your tea, minding your own business. You weren’t doing anything, weren’t asking for anything. Just living your life. Then Charles Vane chose violence when he walked out of the bathroom, fresh from the shower, water still glistening on his abs and dripping from his hair, with a pair of sweatpants slung low across his hips. You tried not to choke on your tea, you really did, but holy shit.
He watched you with the most innocent amused face you’d ever seen while he ran a towel through the ends of his hair. He knew what he was doing, damn him to hell, and you knew as well as he did that’s why he did it. He started to saunter over to you, and you frantically refocused on your book- well, tried to at least. He made his way to you, placed his index finger on top of the spine and lowered it from your face. “What was that about?” He smirked down at you in a way that made you unsure if you wanted to kiss or punch it off his smug handsome face.
“You know what it’s about,” you wanted to scowl at him, but you knew it came out as a half-smile, half-scowl. He gave you the biggest grin you’d ever seen him give since you’d known him as you dragged him down by the arm to kiss him. Without separating you scooted over just enough to give him room to sit down to deepen the kiss. He pulled you into his lap, arms winding around your waist and reaching up your back to steady you. Heavens, you loved him- without all of your heart, mind, soul, and strength you loved him. You held him close, the memories of all the times you almost lost him all too fresh in your mind. There was a time when he thought he had nothing to live for, and then you reminded him that he did. Not just you, but Jack, Anne… speaking of. You would have shoved any other thought out of your mind, but this one… You pulled back slightly, mirroring his previous smirk as he whined at the loss of contact. There was a pout- as close as he could get to one, that is.
“Now why did you go and do that?” He threaded his fingers through your hair while he waited for an answer, eyes searching yours for any indication that he’d done something wrong or that you just weren’t feeling it. Little did he know, it was totally the opposite.
“You know…” you twirled one of his necklaces around your finger, “if you walked out and joined everyone looking like this,” your fingers moved to trace his collarbone. He was holding his breath, waiting to see what would come next. He knew what he hoped for, but he wouldn’t say it if you weren’t up for it. You leaned in close and whispered in his ear, “they would all want to fuck you.”
His eyes blew wide open and he pulled back to look you full in the face. He knew Jack would, but Anne? Flint? “No. If it was just Jack…”
“It’ll be all of them.” You knew how good he looked. He knew he looked good, and that he looked that good, but tempting Flint and the new Hamilton guy…? He wasn’t sure he was that good. But maybe… A grin began to creep across his face and suddenly a pit formed in your stomach. Uh oh…
“Maybe. Maybe not. What do you say to a bet, hmm?” His eyes sparkled and you knew that no matter how this played out, you were in trouble. You turned the thought over in your mind. You had an idea of what you wanted, but what he might want… oh dear.
You resisted melting into the soft strokes of his fingers on your waist and sat up a little straighter. You hoped your voice came out less shaky than you felt, “Terms?” You could feel the shudder up your spine and cursed him under your breath, but refused to break eye contact.
“You’re right, and we do whatever you want for the night. I win, and we do whatever I want for the night.” It was almost as if he saw the concern flicker across your face for the millisecond it was there, and his eyes softened. He brought his hand up to cup your cheek and smiled gently, “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”
You would have laughed if it wasn’t so sweet. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to do anything, it was your concern that he would think you were only in this for his body that held you back. You knew his past and history with Eleanor, and you were determined that this would be different for the both of you. You smiled and leaned into his touch. “It’s not that I don’t want to. It’s that I hope you know that you don’t have to, and that I don’t expect it.”
He pulled you in for a soft kiss on the forehead and whispered, “I know. That’s why I don’t mind offering it.” You closed your eyes and just stayed there for a moment. If you’d known how to tell him how much you loved him, you would have. But you didn’t have the words, and you knew he didn’t either, so you both just let the statement hang there along with its implicit meaning of, “I trust you.” Knowing everything you did, that almost meant more to you coming from him than “I love you” could. Trust didn’t come easily to Charles Vane, and yet he gifted his to you. You shifted around in his lap and moved his hair out of the way, snuggling into his shoulder and planting a kiss on his neck. After a contented sigh, you pulled back and looked up at him.
“Deal.” You let the mischievous sparkle return to your eyes, knowing now that all was well. He raised an eyebrow down at you.
“How do we seal this?”
You leaned up and whispered into his lips, “How else?” After a quick kiss, you jumped from his lap and held out your hand. He pouted for a second. He wasn’t ready for you to get up yet. But, the promise of what was to come was too good, so he got up, took your hand, and followed you downstairs.
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You took a moment to stand in the doorway and observe the goings on of the living room, then walked in being as unobtrusive as you could, and took a seat where you could see the gathered assembly. Anne was sharpening a cutlass, Jack and Featherstone were looking over accounts, Idelle and Max were chatting in the corner, Flint was reading Meditations for the umpteenth time and stroking Thomas Hamilton’s hair while the latter laid with his head on a pillow in the Captain’s lap. All in all, it was an adorable assembly- your family. You loved them, they loved you, and everyone loved Charles. Which made what was to come even better. You curled up with your book, holding it close to your face to hide the inevitable giggles at the reactions to his impending arrival. You’d decided to let yourself get settled before he would follow you in a couple of minutes later, so you took your time adjusting your blanket and folding your legs underneath you to make it look like you’d just decided to join the party. You earned a couple of smiles, but for the most part everyone stayed focused on what they were doing- just how you wanted it. Then, just as you got settled, Captain Vane sauntered into the room, and you enjoyed watching hell breaking loose in slow motion.
Thomas’s hand drifted up to Flint’s, distracting him from the book. Flint couldn’t help but start undressing Charles with his eyes, but after a second shook his head to get out of his daze. Thomas’s eyes raked over the other Captain, gripping Flint’s hand to remember that his lover was right there, but also… damn.
Anne looked up from her cutlass and did a double take. She was not going to eye him up and down. She was not going to- ehh, fuck it. She did it. How could she not?
Max watched him appreciatively, smiling a little as she watched Anne and made a note to tease her about it later. Idelle tried so very hard not to completely lose her cool- Featherstone was right there.
Speaking of Featherstone, he was something between impressed and depressed, somewhere between wanting to see what being with Charles would be like, but mostly just wanting to be Charles.
And Jack? Jack choked on his drink and slammed it down so hard that some of it splashed onto the accounts. His eyes bulged out of his head a little as Charles walked over and clapped him on the back a few times.
Charles shot you a wink before he leaned up and almost purred in Jack’s ear, “Easy there, Jack.”
You suppressed a giggle at the shade of red flowering onto Jack’s cheeks. It was cruel, it really was. But also a bit funny. You moved over to give him room to settle in beside you, and leaned back into his chest to resume your book.
He whispered in your ear, “Four for six. I win.”
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Everything was ready: whipped cream, chocolate, strawberries, large bed ready to go…
…the ice cream, the pizza, the Netflix with the serial killer documentary.
“This is what you want?” You glanced incredulously around the assemblage and back to Charles. “Not like…”
“You’re always talking about how much you love these, so I decided that I wanted to watch one with you,” he shrugged like this was the most logical conclusion to come from a bet about whether or not an entire room of people would want to fuck him after getting out of the shower looking like a sex god. He patted the spot beside him. “Come here, the pizza’s getting cold. Also, I picked the one on the Night Stalker. That okay?”
You climbed in beside him and curled into his side. “You are the only reason I would watch this documentary again,” you huffed, pulling a piece of pizza from the box.
“Thank you,” he pulled you tighter and kissed your hair. “Oh, and about the rest…”
You tilted your head up to meet his eyes. “Hmm?” You hummed sweetly.
“If you get scared, that can always be an alternative.” He winked down at you.
“Deal.”