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The sea always reminded you of home. Born into a family of traders and merchants, you arrived to your parents late in their years. Long after they stopped actively trying to conceive, your birth was their little miracle, the core of their joy. They doted on you, everything they knew passed on to prepare you for taking over once they could no longer manage. A diligent student, you soaked up every little detail, not once imagining your future to hold anything else. And why would it? Your entire world revolved around your father’s ship, The Banshee, the small group of people who worked for you, the hours you spent sailing… you didn’t need anything else.
By the time you turned twenty and your father grew too old, you knew the ins and outs of your trade. You took to the sea without guidance, a confident sailor, following the mapped out routes your family had been using for decades. Although you only owned a single ship, The Banshee was modified to favor cargo over crew; housing solely those who were absolutely necessary for sailing. Light on cannons and defenses, but fast, your journeys were short and frequent.
Yet there was one thing your education never prepared you for.
Pirates.
It was your second year at the helm of The Banshee when they started appearing. Privateers cut loose after the war had ended, trying to survive in a foreign land. Unable to simply put their swords down, they then turned to plundering to make a fortune without years of hard labor. You heard of a few by name, stories of their escapades and attacks spreading like wildfire. Men lowered their voices at their mention, crossed themselves and prayed they were never unfortunate enough to face them. The fear they struck into the hearts of others was impressive, but you assumed most of it was just glamorized hearsay. Still, your crew had to be reassured, so you took to less traveled routes and never the same one more than twice, a watchful eye always on the horizon.
The first time pirates set upon you, you were lucky. They boarded without a fight, perhaps out of inexperience or preferring a fast plunder, drifting up next to your brig just as you wanted to leave the harbor of a small island you stopped at for water.
They jumped across, spreading out on your deck, weapons drawn and pointed at your crew. Your cargo or your life. Your choice.
Except your cargo was your life.
Panic rose in you as reality hit home, a worry previously attributed to other sailors now becoming your own. You watched your crew with their hands up, the attack so sudden they had no chance to react with anything other than surrender. Even if they did have the time to prepare, you couldn’t stand the thought of watching them get hurt, or possibly even die. They were your men, their lives your responsibility. Some of them had been around for decades, previously sailing under your father’s command. You knew them, their stories, and their families.
Defiance mixed with desperation led your actions as you stepped away from the wheel, fists clenched at your side in an attempt to steel your nerves. You needed a solution to the growing problem of piracy, a way to secure yourself and those who worked for you. Hoping for the best every time you set sail or dreading every waking moment weren’t options you liked to consider.
The tavern stories you’ve heard about pirates came to you, and the plan you hatched was so ridiculous, that if done right, it could potentially solve your problems.
You didn’t give yourself time to doubt the gambit you were about to play and you puffed your chest out, mustering all the bravado you could.
“Do you know who I am?!” You thundered, the harshness of your voice alien to your ears.
Silence fell over everyone on board, your crew looking just as confused as those who came to rob you. Someone stammered a negative reply, but you didn’t allow more. With long steps, you marched down from your position and stopped in front of the raggedy group of men, thinking the way they looked at you, you could scare them away with just a short display of aggression. But others would take their place, those who wouldn’t tuck tail between legs at the first sign of resistance.
“The fuckin’ gall,” You spat, slapping away the barrel of the pistol aimed at you. That alone could’ve ended horribly wrong, but instead the pirate swallowed and lowered his weapon. “You think you can board The Banshee and threaten the wife of Charles Vane?!”
You had no idea if you chose the right captain to intimidate them with, or if pirates feared this man as much as other sailors did.
There was a pause, your anxiety wearing on your act. Perhaps Blackbeard would’ve been a better choice, you thought, more infamous. Your stomach twisted, your hands feeling numb. This is it, you thought; they would see through your lie and murder everyone for your mistake.
But then one of them cursed. Another dropped his cutlass and looked like he saw the devil himself.
“Madam,” The man with the closest resemblance to being the captain approached you cautiously. He bowed his head, worn tricorne hat pressed against his chest, his face the epitome of regret. “My deepest and humblest apologies. We did not know, with yourself not flyin’ the black flag an’ all.”
“I assumed my ship would be recognized. Obviously, I was wrong.”
You felt pride swell inside of you when your voice didn’t give away how relieved you were your bluff had worked. The sense of accomplishment only grew when the pirates withdrew, arguing amongst themselves, their captain trying to make amends. He swore they would spread the word so no one else would make the same mistake.
Your head swam as you bid them farewell, trying to hold back your amusement when they made you promise you wouldn’t unleash your husband on them as punishment.
Bloody hell, it worked.
The pirates stayed true to their word. For months every ship you’ve encountered that sailed under a black flag steered clear of you. You had to admit to enjoying the obvious change to course once they’ve gotten close enough to make out the name on your hull. It took your crew some time to make peace with the situation you’ve gotten them involved in, some convinced only misfortune would follow. But as months went by and you started carrying more cargo without the fear of being attacked, your income grew. By the end of the eighth month of your lie, no one aboard The Banshee mentioned it anymore.
You were halfway to Havana from Kingston when one of your riggers spotted a ship on the horizon, on a fast approach towards you. He called it out, your Quartermaster confirming after setting his spyglass down.
“Aye, Captain. The lad is right; they’re on course to intercept us.”
Allowing him to the wheel, you took a look yourself.
Another brig, heavily armed, its hull unmistakably reinforced even from a distance. You noted their flag, and your stomach clenched.
“Pirates.” You coughed instinctively in an attempt to hide the quaver in your voice. Your Quartermaster chose to politely ignore your show of nervousness and simply nodded without a word. Silence fell upon you for a moment, his brows furrowed as he weighed your options.
“The way I see it, Captain,” He stepped away from the wheel, gently taking your hand to guide you back in front of it. There was no room left for fear if you had to steer the ship, if you had to focus on a myriad of different details. “The Banshee is not as fast as she could be. A fussock, with all this cargo she’s carryin’.”
He was right and you mentally cursed your arrogance. Had you not gotten bold from the false sense of security your lie had given you, you could’ve tried to out sail them. Their heavy armor and weapons could’ve been your edge, your ticket for escape. But that wasn’t an option anymore and you dreaded to think what your mistake was going to cost you.
“I hope you have a suggestion, then.”
“I do, aye. Let them take what they want.”
Your first reaction was to laugh incredulously. He shrugged in response and your merriment died down almost immediately. “You’re being serious.”
“We’ve run a good course over the months since all this started. I say better we lose a shipment than the ship, or our lives.”
The plan made sense. Every story you’ve heard mentioned mercy upon surrender, only a few pirate crews choosing to ignore that under especially cruel captains. With the money you’ve accumulated, the loss of one shipment wouldn’t have set you back too drastically. You also considered what the attack meant. Perhaps your lie had stopped spreading, or the truth was found out. After so many months, you doubted the man you claimed to be your husband hadn’t heard about the rumor.
You began to wonder what he might’ve thought about it, if he was amused by it all, or felt angry. If he knew how much you’ve profited off of his reputation, you wagered it would probably be the latter.
You snapped out of your reverie when you felt your Quartermaster’s hand on your shoulder, his eyes looking past you. Following his gaze, you saw the pirates were almost in cannon range now. They slowed, turned their portside towards you in a show off of cannons. Their message was clear. We outgun you. Surrender, or else.
With a curse, you swallowed your pride and yelled for your crew to lower your flag.
“Captain?” Your men stopped in their tracks, confused.
“I said lower the fuckin’ flag! Do you really want to test their bloody patience?!”
Once you dropped anchor and your flag was lowered, the pirates approached. They circled around The Banshee once, giving you the chance to see the name of the ship while they made sure you wouldn’t try anything stupid.
The Ranger.
The name rang a bell, but under the stress of dreading what was to come, you couldn’t place it. Instead, you focused on directing your crew to one spot, their hands visibly in the air. You pulled away from the wheel and lifted your own, your Quartermaster stepping forward to cover you somewhat. You wanted to pull him back, to tell him it was your mistakes that have led to into trouble. He didn’t need to protect you. But before you could act, your ship shuddered against theirs, grappling hooks making short work of the distance between the two of you.
The pirates were lined up against the railing of The Ranger, weapons in the air as they hooted and hollered. Most of them didn’t move save a few who jumped across and began to secure a plank for easier crossing between the two ships. When they were done, they spread out and stopped, waiting for something.
It didn’t take long to see what they were standing by for. The crowd on their ship parted, allowing a man to get onto The Banshee without hindrance.
He was tall, easily one of the tallest men you have ever seen. Well built, so much was obvious, even under his knee length worn grey leather coat. He swept your deck with his gaze, a hand working to loosen the ascot tied around his neck. You thought the garment was probably white once instead of the faded yellow it was now. Same for his billowing shirt, unlaced to the middle of his chest to offer whatever comfort it could in the heat.
When his eyes finally settled on you, he had to sidestep in order to see you properly, your Quartermaster still standing in the way.
“Now, love. There’s no need to hide.” He said cheerfully, his arms opened as if he was expecting you to leap down and embrace him. When you didn’t move, he rested his hands on his hips, his face darkening.
“Is this how you want to greet your husband, then?”
You felt the blood drain from your face and for a moment you thought you might faint. It came to you now, why his ship’s name was familiar. You had heard of it when you first heard of its captain, the man whose reputation you had been using for months. Charles Vane.
And now, he was standing on your deck as if your previous thoughts had summoned him. You felt sick with worry. If he took the time to find you, your lie must’ve really set him off.
Your reaction pleased him and he smiled cruelly, every pretense of cordiality gone from him. You shivered at the sight, coming to understand why other sailors dreaded him. He didn’t look monstrous, with his somewhat shabby dark hair and rugged features. In fact, if you were to be honest, you could even call him handsome. It was his eyes that held his true nature and coupled with his appearance, he was more chilling than he could’ve been had he actually looked a beast.
“C’mere.” Charles commanded. Too slow to react for his liking, he called out again, louder. “Now!”
You flinched, his gravelly voice like a whip. There was nothing else you could do but obey him with his impatience on show. With nerves steeled, you made your way down to him, your hands resting on your belt to keep them from visibly shaking. Charles gave you a thorough look as you stopped before him, his head tilted slightly to one side as he took you in.
“I have to give you this much,” he said as he slowly walked around you in a circle, dragging a finger across the nape of your neck. “You’ve got some stones on you to pull this off.”
“I did what I had to do.”
He reached out and tilted your chin up, forcing you to look at him. With his height, you barely reached his shoulders and he used every inch of himself to try and intimidate you. It worked, but you held his gaze.
“Is that so?”
“I needed to save my men and my cargo. You’re a captain; I shouldn’t have to explain that to you.”
Charles snorted and took a step back.
“We ain’t the same kind of captain, darlin’. Our priorities differ.”
He turned his head towards his men and nodded, allowing more of them to cross onto The Banshee.
“I do like cargo, though,” His hands were on you then and he spun you around, pushing you towards your cabin. “So why don’t you acquaint me with your logs, eh? I want to see what you’ve gotten yourself during the time we’ve been married.”
The last thing you heard before the door to your cabin closed behind you was the sound of a pirate ordering your crew to put their hands down and keep still.
Once inside, Charles took his time to look around. He opened your cabinets, rifled through your armoire. Your hand itched to smack him over the head when you saw him toss your folded shirts around, so instead you focused on finding the information he needed in your log. You exhaled through your nostrils when you found the right passage and closed your eyes.
Here it comes, you thought.
When you looked at him again, Charles was tucking away the jewelry your mother never got around to moving from your cabin. You grimaced at how casual he was about stealing.
“That pearl necklace will really bring out the color of your eyes.”
You bit your lower lip, regretting opening your mouth. He narrowed his eyes in response to warn you against sassing him, then walked over. The leather bound ledger was slid over to him and Charles spent a good few minutes skimming through the pages, his eyebrows rising slightly from time to time.
“You’ve tripled your income.” He finally said as he closed your log and held it out to you. You took it, thinking he almost sounded impressed.
“Yes.”
“Just by being able to carry more cargo under the protection of my reputation?”
“Yes.”
Charles nodded thoughtfully, his left hand scratching his chin while his right drummed lightly on your desk. He took the news better than you had expected, but you remained wary. It would’ve been a mistake to underestimate him.
“You’ve only this one ship?”
He nodded again when you gave him an affirmative answer, seemingly pleased.
“Right, this’ll work just fine.” His cheerful tone was back and you couldn’t shake the feeling whatever he thought of would cost you. Charles sat in the chair opposite from yours, his legs coming up to rest on your desk. He pointed at your liquor cabinet with a smirk. “Pour me your strongest, won’t you, love?”
The smack he gave your backside as you passed by him made you jump, his laughter stoking your annoyance. If you could’ve somehow drowned him in a shot of alcohol, you would’ve considered yourself a happy woman. But even if you could, his crew would still be outside, and you doubted they’d see the humor in murdering their captain with your best whiskey.
He threw the drink back the second he got his hands on the glass, then beckoned you for another fill.
“What’s your name, darlin’?”
You replied, and he repeated it a couple of times, enjoying the way your name rolled off his tongue.
“I came here to make a statement. To rob you and sink you with everyone on board so no one else would think about fuckin’ with me again.” Charles said while he took his time to savor the second shot of his drink. It was chilling to hear him talk so nonchalantly about his intentions of murdering you, his tone almost bored. “But that,” he pointed towards your log, “opened a better option.”
Better for him, you thought bitterly but said nothing out loud. You sat in your chair, your hands calmly resting on top of your desk. I might as well be sitting when this prick finally tells me what he wants.
Charles remained silent for a few more seconds, his eyes following the gentle sloshing of his drink in his glass. When he grew bored, or perhaps gathered his thoughts, he drained what was left and smirked at you.
“You’ve made some nice profit off of me; profit I wouldn’t be able to make back by just sinkin’ you.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, suspicious of where he was headed.
“So, here’s what I’m offerin’. You keep on pretendin’ you’re my wife. Hell, I’ll even help you by spreadin’ the rumor myself. Continue your rounds with as much cargo your ship can carry, but…” He trailed off, allowing you to fill in the blanks alone.
“But, you want a cut.”
Charles’ smirk grew wider when you caught on.
“How much?”
“Half.”
A snort escaped you. Without giving it a second thought, your merchant side kicked in and you began to barter.
“Thirty percent.”
“Forty.”
“Thirty five; not a speck more than that. Take it, or leave it.”
He raised his eyebrows at you, clearly amused. You realized then your life depended on this deal, something this greedy offer made you forget for a moment.
“Tell you what,” Charles sat up straight, the glass he drank from coming to rest close to your hands. “We can settle on thirty five only if I get to enjoy the warmth of my wife.”
You gaped at his gall, your temper finally getting the best of you as he winked slyly.
“I refuse to lie with you!”
Not looking too bothered, he shrugged and moved to get up.
“Your choice. Suppose I’ll go tell my lads then to start stringin’ your crew up. Good chat, though.”
It wasn’t a choice, not really. The main reason you started down this path was to save your people and now you had to make a choice again for their lives. There was no place for your pride anymore. You cursed, your hands slamming on your desk. Charles looked back from the door of your cabin.
“Fine, may the bloody Devil take you! I accept.”
You could tell he had been baiting you into agreeing, but you didn’t doubt he would get your men killed if you backed out. Agitated, you watched him leer at you.
“Sail to Nassau, we have a business to start.” He turned back one last time before leaving to add, “And you better pray to every Saint you can think of that I never find you again if you try to fuck me over.”
You stopped in Havana long enough to send a letter to your parents with an excuse to justify your delay. It took you over a week to get to Nassau, a combination of unfamiliar waters and wariness slowing your journey. To make your mood even worse, your crew had not spoken to you much since the incident with Charles. They would answer when addressed, but not much beyond that. You wondered how many would leave when you would make it back home.
You didn’t have lofty expectations for a port controlled by pirates, but Nassau was shabbier than you imagined. Or perhaps it was the rain that made it look as depressing as seemed, beachfront hovels visible from a couple of miles out. The black flag Charles had given you before he left flew high, no other way of weighing anchor encouraged.
Once on shore, you advised the men who rowed you out to keep their heads down and you set out to find the man you came to see.
It was uncharacteristically chilly, the sky cast over, making the already faded light of the early evening even darker. Navigating the bustling streets would’ve proved a challenge on its own, without every pirate seemingly being in port at the same time. The large crowds made it almost impossible to look for someone specific.
Frustrated, you walked up to the nearest man who looked sober enough to answer you. He gave you a once over when he heard who you were asking after, then pointed at the tavern on the top of a nearby hill.
“’e’s in the Old Avery, may ‘e rot in hell, that cunt.”
You thanked the man and tossed him a coin for his trouble, your mood somewhat lightened at the reaction Charles’ name got from the other pirate.
When you got closer, you noted that the Old Avery was an open air tavern, and you wondered if the patrons even cared about the rain earlier. At least it’s no longer pissin’ down, you thought. Not that it matters, my clothes are already bloody damp.
If they cared, you couldn’t tell, as most pirates you bumped into while trying to get up the stairs were already drunk. You pushed your way past, your eyes scanning the crowd for a familiar face. It took a few minutes to finally spot him sitting with his back to you at a table with three other men, his coat his only giveaway. With a final calming breath, you closed the remaining distance and tapped him firmly on a shoulder.
His expression changed from irritated to smug when he saw it was you behind him. He sprung to his feet, an arm snaking behind your back. Your body tensed at his unexpected closeness as he pulled you into an embrace. He rubbed his face against yours, his beard rough. The smell of dampness mixed with the unmistakable stench of alcohol hit you and you had to fight the urge to move away. After a long moment, he let go and turned to introduce you to the men he had been sitting with.
“Blondie locks over there is Edward Kenway,” Charles gestured towards the man wearing more armor than you have seen a pirate do before. You nodded in greeting and he returned the gesture. “Then that bastard with the sideburns and the poncey coat is Benjamin Hornigold, and this is,” You didn’t let him finish, you knew who he was. You’ve known them all by reputation, but it was the third man you could’ve recognized anywhere after his impressive facial hair.
“Blackbeard.”
“You’ve guessed correctly, lass.” He bowed his head courteously. ”And you are?”
“She’s me missus.” Charles cut in and pressed you towards the bench he previously sat on. “Don’t go wonderin’ off, darlin’. Goin’ to bring you a drink.”
He left you to sit with the three most prolific pirates you have heard of in awkward silence. You were sure you looked like a frightened deer, but when they spoke, there was no hint of threat to them.
“Listen to me,” Blackbeard leaned over the table, his voice hushed. “We know what Vane has threatened you into, and I will not stand by it. No one at this table will. If you need help, we’ll give it to ye.”
“Aye.” Edward and Ben agreed in union. At the sight of your trembling, Ben unhooked his baldric and slipped out of his coat. “Here, put this on.”
You were grateful for their kindness, accepting the garment with a curt nod. The urge to accept their help was overwhelming, but you knew if you ran, the consequences would only be worse. After the sum you had gathered during your lie had been paid back, you could walk away without any debts. Until then, you had to do what had to be done, no matter how much you would’ve preferred to be elsewhere. You introduced yourself and thanked them before addressing their offer any further.
“I can’t, sir.” You replied with an appreciative smile and hugged the coat around you to keep the chill out. “I owe Captain Vane and I scarcely imagine he’d let that go if I decided to weigh anchor and elope.”
Ben looked like he was about to argue when Charles got back with a tankard in each hand. He ordered you to scoot over so he could sit down next to you.
“Ain’t she lovely?” He purred as he slid your drink to you, his nose pressed to your ear. He whispered about the night to come, how much he couldn’t wait to get you alone. You flushed as you felt his hand on your thigh, his grip tightening when you jumped slightly.
“You’re a right tosspot, Vane.” Edward commented, the look in his eyes telling you he was aware of your discomfort. It would’ve been better if it was happening behind closed doors, most of your embarrassment stemming from being fondled in front of others.
Charles turned his head but otherwise made no move to let go of you.
“You sound a bit green, Kenway. Is it envy? I’m sure if you command your cook, she’ll spread her legs for you. Isn’t that how you’ve been shaggin’ her, anyway?”
Edward seemed unfazed, but you caught the slight twitch to his left eye. Charles did manage to hit a nerve.
“I can see how it might be confusing for you to hear of a woman actually wanting to lie with a man, without threats or payment. No hard feelings, mate. I understand.”
You quickly lifted your tankard to your mouth in order to drown in ale the small chocking sound your attempt of not reacting to the comeback made. Charles was less subtle in his irritation. He straightened in his seat, leaning towards the blonde pirate menacingly.
“Shut your fuckin’ gob, ya shrimp.” He growled, your gratification instantly turned into worry. If pushed further, you didn’t doubt Charles would escalate the matter and you hoped Edward would take the jab at his height with dignity.
“Call me that again and I’ll slice your sacks off. Wouldn’t even have to bend too far.”
Charles’ body tensed and you could tell he was about to stand and start a brawl. Edward sat leaning back with his arms folded across his chest. He raised his eyebrows and smirked tauntingly as if to say ‘try me.’
Deciding you’ve had enough, you put a hand on Charles’ arm. He looked at you, his eyes ablaze with fury and you slid your grip down to take hold of his hand. When he didn’t react, you began to slowly rub circles into his palm with your thumb, your gaze pleading. You weren’t sure it would work given how unresponsive he was, but after a few seconds his shoulders sagged and he reached to take a swig from his drink.
You looked at the other three, noting that neither of them seemed concerned about Charles’ temper. Ben didn’t bother hiding his amusement and patted Edward on the shoulder as if to congratulate him. Blackbeard shook his head and sighed, but was smiling nonetheless.
With silence falling on your group and the length of your journey wearing on you, you gave Charles’ hand a light squeeze. He made a questioning sound but otherwise didn’t answer, too intent on finishing the ale he started.
“I’m tired.”
He gave a nod and let go of your hand to toss a few coins on the table.
“Good evenin’, gents.” He wasted no time standing around, only stopping to wait for you at the stairs that led down from the Old Avery.
You slid Ben’s coat off and handed it back to him, smiling apologetically as you wished them a pleasant evening. Blackbeard called after you to remind you their offer still stood; any, or all of their ships ready and willing to escort yours back home if needed.
You thanked them again and set off, silently following Charles as he led you through the drunken crowds scattered across Nassau.
The room he had rented wasn’t very big, its furnishing simple and worn.
At least it doesn’t reek of piss, you thought as you settled on the bed. You watched Charles free himself of his coat and throw it on the table, followed by his belts holding his weapons. He kicked off his boots and padded over to you, falling face first into the covers with a groan.
It was strange seeing him so deflated and before you could stop yourself, you patted him on the back.
“Are you all right?”
He groaned again in reply, but you weren’t sure what that meant. You nudged him harder and he finally lifted his head up.
“What?” He snapped, but he didn’t sound nearly as sharp as you knew he could be. “You want to talk about feelings?”
When you didn’t answer, Charles propped himself on his elbows.
“You’re here for business, darlin’. Don’t worry about my feelings, I don’t have any.”
He paused, his eyes roaming over you as if he just remembered you had a body.
“Unlace your breeches and bend over.”
“Are you bloody serious?”
You tried to get off the bed, but he caught your arm and pulled you back roughly. He used the momentum to roll on top of you, coming to rest in between your thighs.
“Aye, I’m serious. It was our deal, remember? I get to shag you.” He replied, his voice husky. His head dipped, his lips brushing against your jaw.
With a curse, you tried shoving him off, but he knew how to use his weight to his advantage, easily keeping you pinned down.
“I refuse to be taken like a common whore, Vane! I’m your business partner, whether you like it or not, and if you can’t treat me with respect in and out of the bedroom, then you’re better off just killing me now.”
Charles raised an eyebrow at your outburst, but shifted to allow you room to move, his hands no longer gripping you tightly. Aware of his response to your indignation, you decided on a course that would turn the situation in your favor. He was rough, but he backed off when you voiced your lack of consent and you felt braver knowing he wouldn’t force himself on you. You couldn’t deny him the physical part of your deal, and if he didn’t act brutish, you wouldn’t even want to. The trick was to make him believe it was his idea to be gentle; to make him not want to roger you like he would a prostitute.
“Do you want us to make love, darlin’?”
He was mocking you, but you smiled inwardly as he gave you the perfect opportunity to manipulate him into doing what you wanted. With your head thrown back, you began to laugh, hoping it didn’t sound too forced. You let it go on for seconds before stopping, your face feeling hot.
“Oh, no. You don’t have what it takes in you to even come close to attempting such a thing.”
It worked. It was like a switch going off in him; first surprise, then anger, and finally pride. He looked the epitome of defiance as he pulled back and got off the bed. You watched him untie his ascot and let it drop to the floor, his gaze holding yours. He tugged his shirt free of his trousers, then pulled it over his head in one fluid motion. You bit your lip at the sight, his toned chest and abdomen definitely things you could appreciate. Charles smirked at your reaction and held out a hand, wiggling his fingers invitingly when you hesitated to take it.
“What are you doing?” You asked with fake suspicion as you allowed him to pull you against his body, your face no longer hot from mirth but from arousal.
“Proving you wrong.”
He tipped your chin up and bent to capture your lips with his, so gentle it caught you off guard. You tangled your hands in his hair, nudging his head down in an attempt to urge him to deepen the kiss. Charles understood and flicked his tongue against your mouth in an invitation, drawing a small whimper from you. The two of you stood like that for a few minutes, his tongue moving against yours, your hands sliding down to scrape your nails through his chest hair.
With a groan, he moved to free you of your clothes, but stopped before each garment awaiting your consent before stripping you of it. You could tell it was a struggle to hold his passion back and you rewarded his effort with open mouthed kisses across his jawline and neck. He took a step back when you were finally naked; his eyes raked down your body ravenously, his arousal visibly straining against his trousers. With a teasing smile, you slowly turned to give him a full view. Once you had your back to him, you crawled onto the bed on your hands and knees with your legs spread, your hips swaying from side to side in a lewd invitation.
Charles was upon you faster than you anticipated, his hands grabbing your hips as he ground against you, his hardness rubbing on your ass.
“You’re testing my patience.” He growled in your ear, the sound of his voice making you throb for him with want.
“You’re doing good… so far.”
He flipped you onto your back and kissed you greedily before moving down your body, his lips and tongue stopping to admire your breasts, his fingers gently working between your legs. You closed your eyes and moaned under his ministrations.
Working off your debt could’ve definitely turned out worse.
You woke the next morning when you couldn’t move, your body sore from sleeping in one position for too long. Slowly, you opened your eyes to see that he weight against your side was a sleeping Charles, one arm draped across your chest, his hand holding onto one of your breasts. You couldn’t say you were surprised he was a lecherous sleeper. The sight of him on his belly with his legs tangled with yours, his bare ass uncovered made you bite back a laugh. It was almost a shame you had to move him to get up, but you desperately wanted to wash, your body sticky with sweat from the temperature outside rising back to sweltering, as well as from your activities the night before.
Carefully, you pried his fingers from around you, grateful you had been so exhausted you didn’t wake to his godawful snoring.
You worked on sliding out from under his legs when Charles muttered something unintelligible, his arm blindly moving across the bed to find you. He smiled in his sleep when he did, his body coming to cuddle against yours once more.
With a sigh, you settled back.
You had to admit you did deserve a good lie in.
The year and a half following the formation of your partnership passed in a hurry. True to your word, you delivered your cargo, the discussed percentages split between you and Charles. At first you would meet every month or two to spend a few days in bed with each other with no more issues with respect. Then, he would sail to wherever you were to see you more often, never admitting he was doing so because he missed you.
He would begin to be protective of you, starting fights over even the slightest comment aimed at you. Gradually gifts would appear, until you were spoiled with anything you wanted. Charles would still pretend it was all just to keep your partnership going because it made him more money, but after a while you could tell he showed his fondness of you through actions rather than words.
You sat at your desk in your cabin assessing your income for the month while you waited for Charles to cross over from The Ranger, excited to see him after a few weeks of absence. He barged in without knocking as he always did and greeted you with a lewd compliment to your breasts.
You rolled your eyes and gestured him to take a seat, your work instantly forgotten. He seemed uncharacteristically nervous when you took a good look at him, and you reached out to take hold of his hand.
“You all right, love?”
Charles nodded, his tongue sneaking out to wet his lips. He scratched behind his ear with his free hand, exhaling slowly.
Worry began to grow in your belly that something was wrong, but he cut you off before you could speak.
“You should take up my name and we could both start wearing wedding rings.” He blurted out, catching you off guard.
You paused until it started dawning on you what he tried to get at. Judging from the look on his face, he must’ve assumed you were against it, because he coughed and added,
“To make our business seem more legitimate is all I mean, darlin’.”
“Charles?”
He did a poor job attempting to hold your gaze, and you couldn’t keep your smile at bay anymore.
“Are you asking me to actually marry you?”
“Aye. Will you?”
“Yes.”