Ships in the Night

[JackJonesHull]

Thank you to my muse for the inspiration.
You know who you are.



Part one (maybe) of the Red Sails
...

It was the flash of red which caught his eye. Between the legs across the Inn the vivid red standing out amongst the brown and blacks of trews and boots. ***ly he felt himself following the moving colour like a bull transfixed by movement.

The tankard of smokey ale raised to his lips to cover the, he was sure, obvious intrigue he felt. Covering the smile he knew must be forming. Something, someone, different had hove into view and, surely, deserved interest.

...

She felt the hairs rise on the back of her neck. There were eyes upon her, she felt it. But glancing around casually didn't find eye contact. An inn full of pirates hid at least one pirate watching, of that she was certain.

Carefully she found a perch by the end of the bar, her back to the wall where anyone approaching couldn't hide. The red skirt spread wide so she could run if needed. Pirate hunters could be close after all.

...

He'd lost the red close to the bar, but if he tacked across, rather than heading straight in he could surely catch sight again. Which he soon did. The red showed, like a bright sail, first, just to the left of the bar. Red, topped by black and green over creamy white. He continued to a space to the right, not looking directly for the colour. Facing across the room he slid behind a table and sat. Tankard before him like a shield.

Movement towards the table put him on edge, making him aware he wasn't alone with some kind of intent. A loaded pistol, from his belt, was laid beside the beer, a warning to others that he should be given wide berth.

But the treasure he hunted was there, in sight, and subtle reconnaissance was needed lest others also seek the prize.

...

The constant carousing about her made her smile. Pirates in safe port looked for pleasure where they could and drink was plentiful. Inevitably I boisterous buccaneer would chance his luck and should be warned away before he tried. She reached around behind and unsheathed a dagger which she stabbed into the tabletop as fair warning of the fight she would give to unwelcome advances.

Now prepared to repel boarders she viewed the room, watching for whoever was obviously watching her. But there was no one with eyes direct upon her. Every figure was busy making merry ashore, every figure but one. Just one in view sat clearly alone, a pistol by his hand. It was alone which made her suspicious. Was someone here being hunted by the Crown, was she?

She carefully viewed the single drinker, his lack of carousing only making her more suspicious. Clearly he was prepared for trouble, hand cannon ready, more pistols holstered across his chest. But he wasn't looking her way, so perhaps he had another course set. He suddenly stiffened, something had alarmed him, she looked to his face see where he was looking. It was her. His blue eyes were locked on her own.

...

He could only guess who she was, her clothes made her obvious, but near everyone ashore dressed better than when at sea. She sat alone, but so did he. Perhaps she was waiting for a tardy companion. He glanced around but her movement drew him back to her. A dagger driven into the table before her as a warning. This prize had teeth. His interest rose higher. Intrigue could kill but living without knowing more could be a slow death.

But slowly, not wanting to draw attention, he watched whilst looking slightly to her left, to nearer the door, so as to not have his attention noticed. But his senses, fully extended, sensed something. He was being watched too, but by whom? ***ly he braced for trouble and scanned the room. It was her, she was looking at him, Red Sails. Her eyes locked on him. He was spotted. But what to do?

He saw her breathe deep, a brief uncertainty flash across her lips. But the dagger was not flying for his face, at least her teeth were not at his throat yet. He raised his cup to her without breaking gaze and smiled a lopsided smile.

...

He had toasted her. The cheek of the cove. This one had some bravado, at least that were true. If he was sent to capture her then he didn't mind her knowing he was there. He was a danger then, confident enough, well armed and comfortable enough in his own abilities to smile at her. Perhaps he needed to die.

There were crew here who could assist in his capture, for capture him she now must in case he was an enemy. Looking around for help she was unrewarded. Others had not arrived yet. Looking back he was gone. A space at the table the only sign that he had been there.

Pulling the dagger from the table she palmed it and slid from her seat. She needed a place where she could not be surprised. There was truly just the one place near. The Inn was not safe so it would be absent of her charms until further notice. Regaining the street she set her course for the harbour wall and the waters beyond. The pathways thronged with sailors and those whose employ it was to free them of whatever coins they brought ashore.

...

He stepped from the wall across from the Inn and followed Red Sails with his gaze. Her pace drew him on and he knew with certainty that the chase was on. His coat was rolled around his belted weapons, tricorne pulled down over his eyes, making him all but invisible. So, as if drawn by a thread his feet followed hers down to the sea.

Ill gotten gains were for sale here, everything was for sale, including people selling themselves for a stake. Whatever it took to rise above the ordinary. A pirate port attracted the world. So he followed her through this world. But one which was, at least outside, unexpectedly safe. Cut purses could be killed on the spot for justice would be swift, fights were uncommon as they could escalate quickly. So passing on the pathways you could be near certain on reaching your destination unharmed.

And so they did. Just as the last lights shone on the hills behind the harbour he watched her stop on the harbour wall and wave towards the sea.

...

She saw the boat pull away from the darkened Brig towards the spot where she stood. The lookout had spotted her quickly. The very reason she wore the red skirts ashore. Two hands pulled at the oars not wanting to keep her waiting.

"Get me aboard then all but the watch can come ashore. We won't be staying beyond loading supplies so everyone needs their time!" She called down as she descended the net to her boat.

"Aye Captain!" the older crewman replied knowing his time ashore had been brought forward. The thought of imminent rum and company warmed him doubly.

The oars seemed to fly into the passing waves desperate to make the return trip to dry land. Soon she was climbing the nets hung from her own deck. She would not be caught unawares here. Quickly heading astern to her cabin as her orders were being repeated. The crew slept in hammocks below decks only she, their captain, had a cabin to herself.
Although the aft cannon lashed to the stern posts showed this was no pleasure craft. Her curtained bed, folded out from the starboard wall, the only real nod to comforts.

Laid upon her writing desk, on the port side, laid her unloaded pistols. She stepped across and loaded both with mixed shot, taking a nip of rum as the bottle was set there.

It was strange. She felt more alive since she'd seen him. There was a thrill to the unexpected. Whatever he was, even if he was nothing, but a nothing wouldn't have smiled and vanished, but even if he was a nothing, his appearance had excited her. She could hear her own heart and feel her breath. Was this a hunt? Was she prey? Was he?

...

He spotted the boat pull away towards her and marked the vessel from whence it came. A weather-beaten but formidable looking Dutch Brig. A long gun alongside the bowsprit showed that this captain was here for treasure, that this was not for show. Perhaps his pursuit of the prize, his interest in Red Sails, was a dangerous folly.

But he remembered the breath leaving him when their eyes locked and he knew that this course was set no matter what it brought. Quickly he removed his boots and stockings, his hat too. All what he must leave behind he tucked behind the crates he sat upon to retrieve later.

The water lapped up him, drenching his clothes, as he eased into the sea. Glancing across in the dusk he saw the boat had almost reached the harbour as he started his slow swim towards the ship. Trying not to cause noise he reached the shadow of the bow just as he heard her boat reach amidships. Going behind the hull, along the opposite side to shore, he was safe from sight unless someone leaned over and looked straight down. A look upwards showed a rough figurehead of a half fish, half dog figure and he knew where she would be found, for he thought he knew of her.

It was the stern he needed to gain access to it appeared. Red Sails went by other names, or so the tales said. This was the "Zee Vos" a renowned Privateer, and one of Red Sails names was the She Wolf! Doubt crept into his mind, but he was here now and the swim needed to be worth the getting wet. He reached up when he was a little astern and pulled himself along the protruding deck towards the rear cabin.

...

The gentle rocking she felt through her feet reassured her. This was as much her home as anywhere could be. The Zee Vos was captured from a Dutch crew half a dozen years ago when she captain her first ship, an eight gun sloop, the Vixen. But this was her safe place.

Opening the cabin door she stepped onto deck, and looked around. The ships two boats had pulled away taking all but the five crew on watch.

"Keep an eye, we shall load supplies after dawn and prepare for sea in the morning!" She instructed
"Aye Captain!" Came the echoed reply.

Stepping back she turned and was immediately alarmed. The centre port, the stern gun port, was swung open. Perhaps it had been left that way and had just opened further. She moved to see what might be beyond the open window and ensure it was latched closed.

As she stood back, with the port now secured, she sensed she was not alone. Her space was violated. The thought occured as she felt him step up behind her and the dagger at her throat. She could smell the wet on him before she felt it.

"Is it the Crown paying you to bring me in?" She calmly asked.
"I can pay you more to not. Not that you'll get me off the ship as there are no boats and you only have a dagger. You swam here after all!"

Her heart beat a demanding drum. Her every sense was stretched to it's limit. This was what she truly lived for. The edge of being fully alive.

"I work for myself and I would never take you anywhere you didn't want to go. To take the She Wolf would be akin to taking the currents away. You are a *** of nature as they are." He replied by her left ear.

"Then why are you here with a blade to me?" She gasped at his confidence whilst aboard her ship.

"I saw you and I was compelled to the chase. When such a prize is sighted we are honour bound to pursue and engage are we not?" His smile shone through the response.

"We are, but you are outgunned and this prize is not easy to take!" She laughed and stepped away to see if he would stop her.

His dagger slid away without cutting her and, one step away, she whipped around to face him. This time one of her daggers at his chest as his hung at his side. But his eyes had an amused spark and his mouth still lopsided in smile. No *** showed at all. The impertinence of the man. Here he was barefoot and soaked through, his trousers and shirt still moulded to him by the wet, just a dagger in hand, but smiling in amusement still.

...

His heart beat a demanding drum. His every sense was stretched to it's limit. This was what he truly lived for. The edge of being fully alive.

He looked into her eyes. There was a spark there, not of anger but of the same excitement he felt he hoped. Her lips showed a smile. She was enjoying herself as much as he. One of them may die to a dagger here but he promised himself, if he could choose, it would not be her.

One step forward, pushing the point of her dagger into his own chest to test his belief. Surely enough the blade was pushed backwards allowing him within arms length of her. Another step and they were face to face, their daggers both pointing to the deck rather than at each other. He leaned in slightly, his other hand holding her hair, then kissed her unplanned. The moment taking him. He was kissing her as if his life depended upon it.

...

He was kissing her, how did that happen? It was a blur. She felt her own lips kissing him. Her tongue waiting to fight his. She wanted this.

...


Both daggers simultaneously dropped and plunged into the deck, like darts. The thud of impacts could not be parted.

...

She was wrapping herself around him, arms under his, one hand gripping the back of his head, the other across his back.

He had his fingers holding the hair, tangled, at the back her head, the other in the small of her back pulling her to him.

They were becoming one, lost in each other. Teeth nipping lips and tongues. Tongues tasting each other. Absolutely lost. Their whole worlds existing where they touched. Anything else an irrelevance.

***ly they were moving astern. Either the rocking of the waves or a natural need. But soon she was against the stern cannon, pushed back onto the gun carriage, sat back. They didn't notice until her knees rose up off the ground causing them to glance down.

Surprised they laughed simultaneously and, for reasons unknown, looked embarrassed. Then the moment took them again. He leaned down and pulled the skirt up uncovering the long chemise, then they both dragged at that too. He knelt before her to move the fabric easier. A respectable lady would have been naked beneath, but she was practical and was wearing pantalettes, for she'd been ashore.

He looked up, the lopsided smile returned and pulled the two pant legs apart revealing her beneath. In a moment he'd leaned in and kissed her where she wanted him most. The spark she felt like a shock almost had her explode in pleasure. She murmured under her breath and grabbed his head, holding him there. No further invitation was needed. His tongue parted her, tasted deep of her, drew across her. Finding her he lapped at her like consuming ice on a summer's day. His tongue, like a thirsty cat, licking again and again. Devouring her sex, addicted to her.

Her fingers wrapped in his hair, pulling him harder between her thighs. The spark had risen to a fantastic burning, a wave of lava building and shocking all at once. Then breaking, hard and deep. A tsunami of ecstacy washed through her. But still he was feasting. So still the waves of pleasure broke. Then again. And again.

Her breath had become ragged in her throat, even the weak light of dusk too bright, the rapid thrumming of her heart filling her eyes and still he drank of her. With head thrown back, abandoned to absolute pleasure, her skin sparkling, she attempted to gain some control of herself. With effort she pushed his head away, his chin and cheeks soaked from her. Unable to speak she gestured towards the bed, too small but the thin mattress more comfortable than the cannon.

He slowly stood and reached for her hand to help her from her prone position. Accepting the politeness but pushing herself up she found her feet. He stood back giving her a path to the bed, but this was her ship not his. She placed a hand upon his chest and pushed him ahead of her until he fell backwards. Sat across the bed, shoulders against the wall, surprised. She dipped and collected her dagger from the floor.

Is this how he dies he wondered. Bled out in the cabin of a pirate queen. There were worst ways to end your days.

She reached around and the red skirt dropped to the deck. Stepping out of the pile of fabric she flicked the blade in the air, switching from handle to blade and offered him the knife.

"Let me breathe, release me!" She ordered him. Stepping closer.

He took the handle and looked at her quizzically. She stepped again and looked down at him. Reaching up he slid the blade beneath the laces on the front of her bodice. She nodded and the razor sharpened stilleto split the threads like spider silk. The corset fell open and she breathed deep. Her hardened nipples drew lines in the uncovered chemise. He echoed her breath.

She gathered the bottom of the chemise and knelt astride him, reaching beneath she unlaced his breeches and released the tension within. His hardness to her hand. Staring into his eyes she rubbed his tip against herself, tilted her hips as she parted her own lips and ground down onto him with a relieved sigh. His eyes went wide as she enveloped him with a burning heat. Sliding her hand to the back of his neck, pulling his lips to hers, kissing him slowly and deeply, dragging her teeth on his lip as she pulled away, moaning softly at the feeling of him on her.

He reached up and kissed her throat as she moved upon him. As he kissed her rocking became more vital, each touch of his mouth driving her to need him deeper. They were two with one aim, to have this moment.

The shoulders of her chemise slid down uncovering more décolletage. His lips pursued the descending cloth, tasting the salts on her skin. Desperate to consume everything she wished to give. His desperation reflected in her own grinding around him. His tongue drew spirals open her skin until, inevitably it found a hard bead which he softly nipped with bared teeth. The feeling she had as she looked down at him was too much and the impending wave crashed around him, squeezed him tight as it did. His mouth released as the air was stolen and he thrust within. She felt the throbbing, the burn, the explosion within as he released himself deep inside.

Their eyes, which had barely left each other refocused and she leaned down to him. Her lips pushed hard on his they became mere ***s joined absolutely, locked together, their passions and desires in complete control.

...

The sun had set but the night was before them. Darkness could cover only so much. Only so much could be known. Well before dawn he awoke to find her watching him intently.

"You need to be gone, unfortunately!" She whispered
"We are to be away and you shouldn't be here when we are!"

"Am I to be just another ship in the night!" He asked earnestly

"Oh no, not that, not ever. But I have my work!" She kissed him, nipped at his lips, reminded him. "And you are a distraction!"

He conceded to her and pulled his breeches and shirt back on. Standing he bowed deep and grinned, lopsided. "At your service, She Wolf!" The step towards the cabin door was stopped with her hand.

"The way you arrived" she indicated the stern window, through which he slipped.

Gathering her sheets about her she reached the open window she called "My name isn't She Wolf", then in a quiet voice "Who were you?"

From below a brief reply "I'm known as Callan!"

"Then Callan, may lucky tides bring you back to me"