A Ship Called Surprise Pt. 02

"Listen, fuckers, I told you last week that if anyone got out of hand on account of drink again I'd ban it." Naturally, grog is the lifeblood of seafarers, so for Cap to even suggest this was laughable, and literally impossible to implement. They'd have cut him open and drained him before giving up their drink.

"Cap Vance, this bag of detritus has gotten into me personal private things and taken the only item that makes me look semi-decent." Seamus was losing confidence fast in the presence of the stern but reasonable captain.

"Seamus. Look at the boy. He's got one pair of trousers to his name and more fleas than teeth." Basically exactly what I said.

Just then, a violent hacking came from the Cap's hammock. The group, now dead silent and winding down from the adrenaline rush that comes from potential entertainment in the form of a maiming, turned in unison.

Fredrick. Poor, stupid Fredrick was coughing up something grey. I'm sure I don't need to explain where this is going, but I will anyway, because what's a protagonist if they can't be comic relief sometimes.

Seamus' face fell as he realised the implications of the soggy grey mass in the already-crusty hammock, and decided he'd rather just uncover some of the amphetamines he'd saved for a rainy day than have it out with a literal dog. He skulked away without looking at Gill.

Everyone let out a kind of injured sigh upon seeing one of Cap's only worldy possessions defiled by his most trusted confidante, but nobody really wanted to get involved, and so everyone filtered away grumbling about their day being wasted while Cap got to scrubbing and reassuring Fredrick that he wasn't angry, only a little shocked and sad.

Ari was on the opposite end of the dwindling crowd, and I realized she was stifling a laugh. The absurdity of it all clearly wasn't lost on either of us, as I was about ready to bite a hole in my thumb trying to hide my own amusement.

I caught her eye, and discreetly gestured to her to follow me.

We walked down the corridor to the kitchen and the second she closed the door behind her, we both erupted into fits of laughter so violent I almost pissed my pants, swear to Poseidon.

I'd never seen her laugh like this before. She has a kind of cackling laugh, a quick look into her mischievous side. I was still recovering when I noticed her looking at me. Almost...tenderly?

"Zahara, I- you have... Your smile is radiant, I never did tell you. But it reminds me of an eclipse, materializing slowly and occupying everyone's attention." I found myself not breathing. I was speechless. She was sitting across from me, creating poetry in the middle of the old gravy stain on the floor, just for me. For my ears alone.

Immediately the temperature in the room changed. I felt as if the ship was going to get thrown across the sea, as if a volcano would erupt, anything that would explain this tension building.

In the seconds it took me to think of all this, I'd crawled on all fours to kneel right in front of her. The roles reversed, I was now looking down at her. The ridge of her sharp nose, the jagged parting of her hair that would never even out. Even the grease smear on her collarbone looked like art to me.

In that moment, I understood what it felt like to be those dancing ravens she had drawn for me days ago. Lovers sweeping by, never quite touching, hanging above the world at deathly heights.

Before could stop myself, I'd grabbed her chin and firmly but tenderly pushed my lips to hers. After about a split second of shock, she responded.

She coaxed my mouth open, and the dance began again, this time finally making contact. Her velveteen tongue tickled my palate, and I giggled before pushing her to the floor and getting on top of her.

Her hands pinned, we kissed until we were gasping for air, drowning in each other. Her hands slithered under my shirt, cracked nails planting themselves in the soft skin of my back, dragging up to my shoulders.

"Is this okay?" She asked coyly, a tone I'd never heard her use before.

All I could do was nod vigorously, and that was enough to remove her doubt. She grabbed the string holding the top of the shirt together with her teeth, untying the flimsy knot and revealing the glistening skin of my sternum.

"A masterpiece," she managed to whisper.

"You're more magnificent than every constellation combined, more breath-taking than seeing a whale breach for the first time." Waxing poetic is a bad habit shared amongst women who love women, but it seemed to spur her on even more.

She grabbed my shirt at the back of my neck, and I immediately complied and lifted my arms slightly for her to remove it. She grinned, exposing canines that were much sharper than I'd noticed before. Grabbing me around the waist with one hand, she flipped me onto my back with the other, pouncing on me while I got my bearings.

Her flaming hair made a curtain around my face, a world only we knew. Her eyes seemed to glow, even in the quickly-darkening room. I noticed That a candle was lit, creating the glow I was seeing. Was that lit the whole time?

Before I had chance to consider it further, she'd smashed her face into mine, ravenously exploring my chest with her free hand.

I gasped as she pinched my nipple between her thumb and index finger. "Oh, Ari, yes." I moaned into her neck before giving it wet kisses, leaving a trail down to her collarbone, The one without the grease.

Practically panting, her neck was obviously her sweet spot. Her hand fell off my chest and grabbed my side as she began grinding her hips against me.

I bit her neck and brought my hand slowly up her toned stomach, feeling a maze of scars above the muscle. She whimpered and placed a hand over her mouth to stop it. I quickly withdrew my hands.

"Oh, Ari, I'm so sorry! Do you want to stop?" I felt my stomach drop and saw a look I didn't understand on her face.

"It's just- I don't- Nobody's seen those before. Nobody's touched them, not since they were made." She looked at me deeply, with eyes that seemed more searching than lustful like before.

"We won't do anything you aren't comfortable with." I placed a reassuring hand on her cheek, feeling a slight cold moisture. A tear.

"Oh, sweetheart." She smiled down at me, and moved my hand to her lips, giving me a deep and meaningful kiss on the palm. The heat of her breath was calming.

Time became void, I had no idea what time it was or how long we'd been there. The others were probably looking for us, right? Shit, I've messed everything up. She'd probably never look at me the same again, I was now part of a painful secret she would keep locked away.

But surprisingly, she seemed lighter. Her tear had dried and the room was still, the candle flickering gently with the sway of the ship. Everything was so quiet, a rarity on a ship full of horny pirates with too much free time.

Without saying a word, she stood up and held out her hand. I took it, and she hoisted me up with little effort. I must have looked incredibly sad and pathetic, because she placed a hand on the side of my head and stroked my hair, almost as if to apologise. She didn't need to apologize, ever. In that moment, I would have done anything for her. Anything.

Taking my hand, she lead me out of the kitchen and onto the deck. The rickety old ladder was leaning precariously against the main pole on the quarter deck, leading up to the platform where she sat and mapped our routes. She began to climb, and I followed close behind.