The Pirate King Ch. 07

"Feel good?" he murmured. I nodded.

"Sorry," I said, taking deep breaths around his fingers, trying to bring myself back. "Forgot to ask."

Forgot was putting it mildly. I had been lost, past words, unable to think past the things the Captain's hands had been doing to me. But I didn't think he would be interested in excuses, so I didn't try and explain. Besides, words were still hard. Breathing was still hard.

He tilted his head and watched me struggle to exist. "I'll think up a punishment later."

At his words an electric shock passed through my body, starting at the very tip of my head and settling at the base of my spine. He smiled to see the way I shook, the way my eyes fuzzed out in hazy anticipation, and leaned down to kiss my nose.

I pulled him back down to me, letting out a sigh, and he collapsed against my body. He lay there, feeling me shake beneath him. "Too much?"

"Stop asking me that," I grumbled.

I felt him chuckle. "I'll always ask you that, so long as you keep shaking so bad."

"And the answer will always be no." My hands traced over his back, slipping under his shirt to capture the warmth of his skin. "You'd have to try hard to be too much for me."

"Guess I have to try hard, then," his voice came back, dangerously, and my body shivered without me.

We lay like that for some time, my hand tracing his back, his breath slipping over my chest.

"Left some marks," I heard him say quietly, sounding smugly satisfied. I looked down to see what he was referring to and found the trail he had left, his teeth stamping impressions on my skin. I couldn't help myself; I began to laugh.

He lifted his head up to look at my face. "What?"

I traced a finger over one of the bite marks. I still remembered so clearly when the Captain had been convinced that these small welts were enough to hurt me, were something to be ashamed of. The frustration that had raised seemed so petty now, so distant. "Happy these are back," I told him finally, aware he was still looking for an answer. "When do I get more hand prints?"

He looked confused for a moment, then comprehension flashed over his face and he sucked in his breath as those eyes went dark with hunger. In the next instant all of that was gone again, replaced with the most beautiful version of sheepishness the world had ever bothered to create.

I laughed again and lifted my head to kiss him. When I let my head rest back on the bed, smiling, he was grinning too, although he still looked sheepish.

"You weren't like this before," he tried.

Gods all, he looked so beautiful when he was embarrassed. "I've always been like this," I told him firmly, watching him squirm, "you just couldn't see."

"Yeah, well -" I kissed him again, laughing against his lips. "You were hiding," he muttered against mine, and I laughed all the more and kissed him until he stopped trying and forgot to think of anything but me.

To be with him, here. To exist with the Captain, to truly exist as I was meant to, with the sea pressing just under my skin and the waves crashing softly in my soul, it was making me believe that I had never truly existed before. That even when I lived as the sea, when all around me knew who I was and held all my names in their mouth with fear and respect, I wasn't living as me, as the fullest version of me that could exist. That perhaps that life had not been the peak, the highest point from which I had fallen, from where I had been pushed, shoved down, tied, and drowned, but instead just a step. A leg on my journey to be here. Here, and happy, with him.

I had thought I was going back to where I belonged. That was my plan, what I needed to do, and I had been functioning under the assumption that the place of my belonging was somewhere far and dangerous and attainable only through planning and violence and revenge. But I realized, laying there with the Captain, that if I were given the chance to go back to that world, to go back to being named, to having my command, my friends, my world, my life, I wouldn't do it. I couldn't do it.

Not without the Captain.

Right here, right now. The Captain in my arms and pleasure slowly seeping into the bed beneath us. This, this is where I belong. That knowledge hit me with a strength that stunned me, a surety that dug into my bones and made me wonder how I had ever managed to believe I was happy before this. Before him.

For a moment that worried me. Did that mean I didn't have to leave after all? I had been operating under the idea that I had to get back, had to become the thing that I had left behind. But I had died; I was no longer that thing, and never would be, and I had the Captain and wasn't that enough?

But no; I still had to kill the man who had killed me. And besides, I had already promised the Captain a ship.

I kissed the top of the Captain's head. A new plan began to form. It was simple; it was easy.

"Is it the sea?" he suddenly asked me.

I looked down at him. It was hard to bring my mind back from the dreams of the future, back to conversation and words. "What?"

"In your eyes. Sometimes, I think. I've seen it, the way you make men afraid of you. The way that men are afraid of you, like you carry something you shouldn't just under your skin." He traced his fingers over my shoulder and I shuddered, fully back now, fully present under his touch. "I thought I tasted it, too, but." He looked up at me. "It sounds ridiculous."

I smiled, lifting his lips to mine. In that kiss I let the sea pour out, let oceans rise and fall, their relentless crash and hungry depths pressing up against him with abandon. He could take it, I knew. He could handle everything that I was.

When I pulled back, his lips followed me, wanting more. Those dark eyes blinked up and met mine, where the sea still swept and pulled.

"Oh," he breathed. I nodded, slowly, and he reached up and brought me down to kiss him again.

At the end of it we were both breathless. I leaned my forehead against his, my gazed locked with his. I don't just hold the sea, I wanted to tell him. The sea does not just live under my skin, it does not just dance in my eyes, I am the sea, the within me the oceans come to life and death and so much more than all of that. I wanted to say it, wanted to tell him, but he knew. He saw. He watched my soul pulse and dance just behind the thin protection of my skin and he didn't run, or blanch, or frown. He smiled.

"And you're mine," he told me. His voice was braided with just the right mix incredulity and confidence, and I smiled back, and the sea rose for him, and the world was perfect.

It was really too bad, I thought as we kissed again, that we only had a few hours for us to celebrate this discovery before they would dump me back on land.

***

I moved around the room, gathering clothes in preparation to head back to Cookie. I had ended up naked with the Captain, again. Somehow, I had the feeling that was not going to be an isolated incident, even in the few hours we had left; not with the way he was looking at me, hunger barely hidden behind those dark eyes, hardly sated by the hours we had already spent in bed.

Of course he wouldn't be. You couldn't fill the sky. And I didn't want to; I had much, much more to give.

He watched me as I gathered up the clothes, slipping them on my body despite his protests. He only stopped making frustrated noises as I made my way over to the corner of the room he had chucked Finn's knife into and began searching for the blade.

"You shouldn't carry that. It's dangerous."

I ignored him. He should know exactly how much danger men posed to me; he knew what I was.

"Who gave it to you, anyway?"

I didn't want to give up Finn, so I just shrugged. "A friend."

He frowned at that. "You have a lot of friends."

I smiled, thinking about the men that rose up against Wicky. The Captain had not yet begun to learn of all the friends that I had. I found the blade and took it up. It was a good blade, well made. I would have been sad to have lost it for Finn.

"Sailor." The Captain rose from his bed. I took the moment to enjoy the view as he walked away from me, the perfect muscles of his legs, his incredible ass leading up to a back that would look so perfect covered in lines from my passion, not, I thought not without some pleasure, that he would ever give me the use of my hands to give those lines to him, up to that neck still marked with the clear message of mine, mine, mine, up to the head that - oops.

He was staring back at me, amused, and I did not bother to look away. The time for not allowing my feelings for him to shine through was gone, any inhibitions shattered by his kisses, his touch, the way he looked at me in this very instant, so open and happy and here. Instead, I blew him a gentle kiss. He laughed and came towards me, giving me the front view that I had been missing before.

I lifted an eyebrow. If it was possible, I liked this view even better.

"Found something for you," he told me, his face so close his words got lost in my clothes. I sighed at the barriers between his breath and my skin, then tensed as his fingers worked around my waistline. I heard a latch snap, then felt his fingers skim back to my stomach.

He rested one hand on my stomach, feeling my breaths, and reached over to take the blade from me. I surrendered my weapon without another thought. He brought it to my navel, then slid it over my stomach as I shuddered until it reached my hip, where he sheathed it in the belt he had looped around his waist. "There," he said. His fingers were hooked around the belt; I wanted them hooked around me. "Now you don't have to carry it in your hand."

I looked down at him and found his face one big smirk. "I thought it was too dangerous," I mocked gently.

"Oh," he returned, smirk growing. "It is." His arms wrapped around me, hands spidering across skin to rest just above my ass, fingers twirling at the sensitive divot that marked the base of my spine. I shuddered into his arms as electricity shot through my entire body. Lips pressed to my neck and I almost swooned.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Don't get it," I whispered.

"It might be important." But he didn't move, just kept twisting his fingers through the nerves that made up my entire world.

Whoever it was knocked again, and I felt him pull away. My hands reached out to keep him, but it was too late, his body already moving towards the door.

Completely naked.

"Captain?" I called out, not sure if he had forgotten his state in the comfort of our afternoon. "Sir?"

He turned to me, eyebrow raised. I made a gesture at his body, his undressed body, even as the knock came a third time.

He shrugged, turned to the door, and opened it wide.

Poor Natch.

I struggled not to laugh as he covered his eyes, yelped, and tried to turn all in the same motion. The Captain leaned on the doorframe casually, giving me a wonderful view of his bare ass and Natch what must have been a wonderful view of his front, if he hadn't been hiding so effectively.

"You wanted something?" the Captain prompted. I could hear the amusement in his voice. I walked up behind him, shaking my head at the way the man I loved moved through the world.

"Cookie requests Ghost in the kitchen, says he needs him."

"Ah, Cookie." I slipped my arms under the Captain's, wrapping them around his chest. He leaned against my large frame and I kissed the back of his head. "He just doesn't like that I'm spending so much time with you."

"Cookie?" He rested his head on my shoulder and looked up at me. "I thought he liked you."

"He does. He's just a little." I thought about it for a moment. "A little protective."

"Of me?"

I smiled at his presumptiveness. I supposed it made sense; he still did believe it was his ship. "Of me, I think." I kissed his forehead. "Now, go put clothes on, you're scaring poor Natch."

"You're the one holding me here," he said primly, making no attempt to move whatsoever. "Besides, I thought you said he wouldn't mind."

"That -" I started, but he was laughing and also already gone, moving from my limbs when I least expected it.

"Go," he said, pulling on a shirt. "Before Cookie thinks I've eaten you."

I pointed at my stomach, where we both knew bitemarks blossomed and bruised. "I thought you did."

He laughed and waved his hand, and I smiled back and put my hand on Natch, making him jump. "Sorry, lad."

"Just. Jesus, all the gods, any god at all." He walked with me briskly down the hall towards the kitchen. "It is one thing to see a man naked, but this is the Captain, he's like a fucking father to me Ghost. He's like. Fuck, it's too weird." He looked at me sidelong. "Saw Wicky just a moment ago."

I shrugged.

Dinner went by in a strange but acceptable fashion. The men were wide eyed and silent, taking their dinner as it was served and being thankful for that. A few of those wide eyes caught on the belt the Captain had given me, the knife that it held, and got a little wider, but no one said anything

Wicky showed up just as I was planning on leaving the kitchen to take my own meal. I paused, unsure of his intentions. He didn't seem interested in entering the mess, instead planting his feet and crossing his arms just on the other side of the threshold.

I turned and pulled a bowl down. "Lad," Cookie hissed, but I ignored him. I filled the bowl, watching Wicky watch me. When it was ready for him, I turned and held it out.

He hesitated. I knew he must have thought it was some kind of trap, me, serving him in front of all of these men, and maybe it was. I hadn't really gotten that far yet, instead working without a plan. If being with the Captain had taught me one thing, if finding the Captain had shown me only one trick, it was that plans were not the only way that good things came about.

So I held out the bowl and decided to see what happened. Wicky watched me, trying to decide what I was planning, but I had no plans and so he saw nothing and came forward, step by careful step until he was right before me.

His bruises were still dark, fingermarks that would fit well under my hands. Perfectly, in fact. I noticed they were marred slightly by small nicks that I must have pressed against his skin while tangling with him outside of the Captain's door.

Twice now I had almost killed him. I wondered why he wasn't more afraid of me; perhaps he believed his position would keep him safe. Perhaps he had more courage than I gave him credit for.

As he reached out and took the bowl, I tightened my grip and pulled back. Just for a moment. He felt the power behind the motion and I saw the flash of fear in his eyes, the total panic.

I smiled. I think I gave him just as much credit as he was worth.

I released the bowl, knowing I didn't have to do anything more. He knew what I could do. Any threats beyond this point were posturing; I did not posture. I didn't need to.

He grasped the bowl tightly and stumbled back a step before he managed to collect himself. I smiled into the expression on his face, fear and surprise and anger all mixed up in his lips and eyes. I smiled and turned to pour myself a bowl.

"Slut," I heard Wicky hiss. My head turned to watch him stalk out of the mess, trying to find whatever shreds of control he thought he could pick up.

I let out a small huff of amusement and brought my bowl into the silent mess. All eyes were on me as I sat across from Natch.

"So," Thron said, "Wicky."

I shrugged.

"What good is a knife if you're not gonna use it," muttered Finn, and I gave him a look. He scowled.

We ate in silence for a moment, the only sound the munching of hard bread and the scrape of spoons against bowls. Then Thron sighed. "You'll be missed at training today, Ghost. Especially as it's your last day and such."

I looked up at him. "I did not realize that I would be missing training."

"You're to take the Captain his dinner, aren't you?"

I shrugged. What of it? I could still make training afterwards.

Three sets of unconvinced eyes met me with more truth than I was giving myself. I took another bite of my bread. "Yes, I see your point."

"It's too bad you can't get Cap to come to training." Natch leaned on his fist, looking contemplative. "He's a good fighter, might even give you a run for your money."

Oh, I suddenly thought. The Captain fighting. I had never seen him fight; I didn't know his ability. "He's better than Thron?"

Thron nodded. "By a long shot."

I let myself think about that, imagining the Captain with knives in hand, and found myself smiling. Then I imagined what type of situation he would need to be in for that to occur and the smile dropped from my face.

I couldn't stop thinking about that for the rest of the meal. If others spoke to me, it was not heard, not over the sounds of the Captain fighting for his life in my mind, enemies from my past and my future coming for him again and again. When the meal was over, I scooped up my bowl and returned to the kitchen, filling a fresh bowl and grabbing some bread. I arranged it on a tray, then returned to my seat. The room was empty, the men moving towards their evening duties. Only Natch and Finn had waited for me.

"Finn," I said. The steward looked up. "Take this to the Captain while I go up and train with the men."

There was a silence as the two men me took this in. Then they both spoke at once.

"Ghost -" Natch started, "I really don't think -" while Finn voiced a much more concise, "Oh, fuck no."

I raised a brow at the usually mild steward. He crossed his arms. "Him, expectin' you, and getting me? I'm like to end up dead."

"Tell him I had to go to training."

"He'll just come and find you."

"That's the idea." I held the tray out and leveled Finn with a careful look. He took the food with a sigh.

"Bury me with enough silver, lads, that's all I ask of you." He shook his head as he headed off down the hall.

"This," Natch said, "was not what I meant when I said I thought Cap should come to training." But I noticed that he sounded more excited than worried. I clapped him on the shoulder and headed up towards the deck.

Thron looked shocked to see me; he looked to Natch for some explanation, and I saw the small man just shrug. I smiled at the training master. "The Captain will be joining us later."

"Oh," Thron said, slight panic building on his face. Natch took him aside as I removed my knife belt and gathered my practice blades. I saw him trying to hide a grin as Thron looked like he wanted to jump over the edge of the ship.

"Having fun?" I asked when he made his way back to me.

"I like being around you when you're not trying to kill people ranked higher than you," he laughed. "So long as Cap doesn't get mad at me, and Wicky doesn't show, I'm good."

"Good," I said, tossing him a knife, "then you can spar me first."

The smile disappeared from his face. "Oh, goddamnit Ghost."

***

The Captain took longer than I expected to show; perhaps he was waiting on me to cave and return to him, or giving me a chance to obey him without him having to come get me. But that wasn't the plan. As the minutes ticked by I apologized to him internally; if this were not so important, I would not be so insistent.

My back was to the door when he finally appeared, but it didn't make any difference. I knew instantly that he had arrived. The man I was sparing glanced up, just for a second at first, then his eyes locking onto something behind me. You don't ignore the fighter before you unless there is a greater threat; the hunch that this threat might be the Captain was all but confirmed when he immediately dropped his blade and backed away from me slowly.

I turned, smiling, to find the Captain striding towards us, brows bundled together with force, jaw clenched. He looked pissed.