Lost at Sea Bk. 01 Ch. 04

He had hips that pounded like the waves, relentless and driving. A slow, rhythmic battering that was trying to knock her over. All she could do was hold on. He stared down at her, his eyes full of concern but his expression a mask of calm. His large hands gripped her hips and pulled her back as he drove forward over and over again. Something inside her spasmed.

"Holy... fuck," she muttered, her hands clenching against the wall.

"Are you alright?" he asked, pausing his pounding hips. It was obvious something was bothering him but she didn't care right now. She needed this. She was close.

"Harder," she said, reaching back with one arm to pull on his hands where they gripped her hips, "Don't stop."

His fingers dug in hard enough that it started to hurt, but the pain seemed right somehow. It added to the flood of sensation. He slammed into her backside with a force that she could barely handle. It was delicious. It was punishment. It was what she wanted. Her thighs trembled with the effort of holding herself upright. Her elbows buckled, forcing her forearms flat against the wall. He followed her without missing a beat. She rested her forehead against the back of her hand and clenched her teeth as wave after wave of rippling pleasure ripped through her. She felt like a rag doll, light and out of control, unable to control her own loose limbs. Every impact of his hips against her backside hit hard enough to rattle her bones. He did not strike her. She wanted him to but that was a line he could never cross. Instead, he drove into her with unearthly strength that reminded her how powerless she would be if not for the rules he was utterly devoted to. Every time the unwanted thoughts tried to form in her mind they were blasted away by another aching, battering, blissful thrust.

Her orgasm took her by surprise. Everything had been so perfectly overwhelming that she hadn't noticed it building. It was like a dam bursting without warning. She only had time to gasp, the scream never leaving her lungs before she lost track of everything but overwhelming pleasure. His whole body clenched, his own orgasm simultaneous with hers. He did not stop though. His sole focus was on her pleasure and he maintained the nearly cruel hammering of his hips, driving his manhood into her clenching depths even as his mind was bursting with her pleasure. For a short eternity they were both washed away. She caught glimpses of herself occasionally, her awareness beginning to reform, then she was gone again, hit by another wave. She had no idea how many times it happened or how long it lasted but she knew he would keep going forever if she let him.

At some point she noticed her face was pressed against the wall and the only things keeping her from collapsing were his hands holding her as he continued his relentless thrusting. She let out a long, ragged breath.

"Stop. No more. I can't," she whispered, her lips practically kissing the wall. He eased himself out of her. She started to fold. She wanted to. The floor sounded nice. Somehow, she ended up scooped into his arms instead. She lay her head against his chest and let the tears flow.

He stood there and let her tears run their course, holding her, keeping his thoughts to himself. It was not his place to judge, or even to try to soothe. He was there to serve and he knew her well enough to know that trying to offer comfort would not be received well.

In a rare moment of proactive choice, he laid her out on the bed carefully. She looked up at him. "You are too good to me," she said, her words slurred like she was drunk.

"One of us has to be," he said, a small smile coming to his lips.

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that judgement I hear, Quinn?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

"Never. Only concern for your well being," he replied. From somewhere he had gotten a cool cloth. He brushed her sweat-soaked hair from her face and began to gently wipe the tears and sweat. The cold cloth on her burning skin felt wonderful. "I do not like hurting you, even when you ask me to," he said quietly.

"That wasn't hurting me," she said with a weak shake of her head. "That was perfect. Thank you."

Quinn knew she was lying. She had wanted him to be much more cruel. She was hurting inside, and she wanted to hurt outside also. She wanted many things, but mostly she wanted to forget. So he nodded and let her. This was better than any of the other forms of self-punishment she could have engaged in. There were many worse things she could have done. There were many worse things he could have done to her. He was thankful she did not know the right way to ask.

She closed her eyes and was asleep in moments.

He gently tugged a blanket over her and watched her for a few more moments. Then he pulled his discarded sarong around his waist again and adjusted his sword belt and harness. Once he was dressed he stepped out of the cabin and walked out onto the deck of the ship.

_______________________

The Kestrel was not large. It was sleek, elegantly made, with few frills. It was a vessel made for maneuverability. Its two masts were rigged neatly. The crew had just finished taking down every line and splicing or replacing any damaged ropes. As Will looked the ship over it occurred to him that the jib seemed odd.

His narrowed his eyes in thought. He hadn't seen that design before. It looked too long, like when the jib was unfurled it would actually overlap with the mainsail a bit. He was an experienced sailor, but he had no idea what purpose that would serve.

The crew was a mixture of lean men and women whose skin had the dark shine of people who spent a lot of time in the sun. For sailors, they were a surprisingly attractive bunch.

"Why ye eying me girl like that?" came a challenging growl next to him.

He snapped his head to the side, his hand going to his belt. He'd been in too many bar fights on seedy docks to take words like that lightly.

Captain Belita Vex smirked at him.

He put his hands in his pockets and gave her a long-suffering look. She laughed. Her voice was a clear, strong alto.

"She's a beauty." Will said. "Might be a little overlarge in the front though." He gestured to the odd jib he'd noticed.

"Never heard a man say that before." Belita said wryly, looking where will was pointing. "Ye have a good eye though. Most people'd never notice that when she's not unfurled and showin' off."

Will shrugged. "After a while, you learn to tell how everything is put together."

Belita nodded, "Indeed ye do." She was looking him over him with sharp, meticulous eyes. He returned the favor. In the sunlight her thick blond braid practically glowed. He could tell that her long blue frock coat was a little threadbare and faded and her hat a bit battered, but both were well cared for. She wore her coat unclasped and open, more like a cloak she could easily shrug out of. Her white shirt was blousy and loose with a spill of lace down the front. She wore no corset or vest, which would have simply outraged a stodgy mainlander, but out here was not uncommon. Instead she wore as simple blue sash at her waist over her belt. The polished hilts of her sabre and pistols rode her hips. Her pants fit her like a second skin and her boots were of excellent quality. That was rare for a sailor. Salt water and leather did not agree with each other.

He looked at her boots a moment longer. They had wide heels that added nearly two inches to her height. "How in the world did you manage to sneak up on me?" he asked, impressed that she'd been so quiet.

"Trade secret," she countered. "Now, if ye'll excuse me I have a noontime appointment with my new Navigator. I 'ear he's a bit of a handful, so I want t' make a strong first impression."

"Oh, I think you will do just fine," Will said, looking her over again,"You cut a commanding figure."

"Oh?" she said resting her hands on her hips, "Not overlarge in the front?"

He cleared his throat, a bit surprised at her brazenness. "Ah, well I don't rightly know. I don't think so, but I'd need to see you unfurled and showing off to know for sure."

She started laughing again, then shook her head. "Ye're lucky ye're not on my crew yet, Mister Sterling. That is not th' sort of thing a smart sailor says t' their captain."

"I'll try to get it out of my system before week's end." Will touched his hat in an informal salute.

She took his arm. "Come on. Ye c'n walk me tae my meetin'."

Her heeled boots clicked on the wood of the dock and Will's assessment of Captain Belita rose a few more notches. Once they reached the top of the gangplank she released his arm.

"Captain on deck!" a sailor bellowed. Heads turned and salutes snapped. Belita surveyed her small floating kingdom and nodded. "As ye were," she called and the ship started bustling again. "Mister North, how're we doin'?"

"All on schedule, Ma'am," a burly, bearded man said from over a stack of crates he was inspecting the contents of. "Having a few issues procuring some of the... odder supplies on the manifest, but we have days yet so nothin' you need to concern yourself over."

"There's a merchant named Kaduska up in the Market. Have you met him?" Will asked Mister North.

"Nay. Should I?" North asked, a bit taken aback by this fellow interrupting his report.

"I doubt there's anything on the list he can't get ahold of for you. Tell him I sent you and he'll even give you a mostly fair price," Will said.

"And you are?" North asked.

"Will Sterling," Will said with a slight bow.

North grunted and held up a flat board with a number of papers clamped to it. "I hear I'm supposed t' get another extra cargo manifest from you?"

Will pulled two sheets of paper out of his pocket, unfolded them and handed them to Mister North.

North scanned the list and did a double take. "This a joke?"

"No," Will replied.

North looked at him like he was crazy. "As if Miss Hunter's list wasn't bad enough. You have any idea how hard it'll be to find this many ship's boats on short notice? You have any idea what I'm gonna have to do t' the Kestrel to hang that many smallboats off of her? She ain't exactly big t' begin with."

Will had the good grace to look apologetic. "I'm not the one who decided to make a run at the Drifts."

"Guess you think we'll need that many lifeboats once we dash the Kestrel to bits? Or maybe we're just going to throw a bunch of smaller boats at the Drifts and hope one or two make it through?" North scoffed.

"Something like that," Will sighed.

"Just make it happen, Mister North," Captain Vex said firmly. "Is there anything else?"

"No, Captain," North shook his head, "I'll go speak with this Kaduska. If Sterling's wrong I'll blame him for the shortage."

"Very good," she smiled, "You have the ship."

He followed her to a door on the main deck that was just barely taller than his head. He ducked a bit as he passed though and was blinded by the sudden change in lighting. Slowly he made out the room as his eyes adjusted. Belita was standing in front of a board on the left side wall that was covered in charts and maps. Reaching up to the top of it, she released a catch and lowered the board down on hinges. It became a table supported by chains running back to the wall. Behind where the board had been mounted was a series of shelves set into the wall. They were full of books, navigation equipment, two silver goblets and a number of jars full of dark liquid. She released another clasp and the table she'd just brought down rotated inside its frame so that the maps that had been displayed on the wall when he first came in were right-side-up again.

"Ye wanted to see my charts, and ye said ye would need a room. This'll be it," Belita said.

Will's brows rose. He looked around the room, really seeing it for the first time. For a ship's cabin it was very spacious. The bed was a wide four-poster that dominated the middle of the back wall. Its posts connected to the ceiling. The top blankets was lush blue velvet. There was a large window behind it running most of the length of the back wall. It was shuttered now, but impressive nonetheless. A tall wardrobe stood next to the bed on one side and a small table on the other. Eight lanterns were mounted to the walls, two on each. A chair was hung in the corner next to the desk she'd just lowered. To his right and left, framing the door he'd just come in, were a curio housing a collection of delicate white cups, plates and kettles, and a framed map of the known world.

Belita hung her coat on a hook on one of the wardrobe's tall doors.

"This is... your cabin," Will said. It wasn't a question. He could clearly tell.

"Aye," Belita answered.

"But-" Will was at a bit of a loss.

"There are only two other cabins on this ship, and they'll house Lord Morant and his retinue. My First Mate and Quartermaster 'ave already agreed tae bunk wit' the crew for this trip. I've always told my crew that I would ne'er ask 'em t' do anything I wasn't willin' tae do meself, so now I 'ave the opportunity t' prove it." Belita stretched like a cat, putting her hands on the low ceiling and pushing. Her shoulders popped, and her chest strained against her shirt. Will could faintly make out the indentations and outline of her nipples pressed against the fabric. He tried not to watch, but mostly failed.

"It doesn't seem right," Will said with a shake of his head, remembering the issue at hand. "When I asked for a cabin it was mostly because I knew I had Morant over a barrel, and because my traveling companion hasn't ever been a sailor before. I thought a cabin would be good for her. I never meant to displace the captain." The room was beautiful and he did not belong here.

"I agreed to it," Belita said firmly. "I knew what it meant even if ye dinae. Don't think ye're displacing me. Ye'll work here, an' ye'll sleep here, but this is still my cabin. It's not uncommon for ship's officers t' share berthing and work opposite shifts. That's essentially what we'll be doin'. I'll sleep here when ye're on duty and if we end up needin' tae rest at the same time I'll rack out down below with mah crew. Just don't put yer trunk in front of my wardrobe and we'll get along fine."

Will was feeling a bit better about the arrangement. "Glad you put some thought into it. I really should have asked about the number of cabins aboard. I figured someone like Morant would be traveling on a larger vessel."

"A larger vessel would never get him where he wants t' go," It was clear Belita was proud of her ship. "The Kestrel's faster'n most her size, and she responds even faster. She'll come all the way about in thirty seconds."

Will's brows rose. As long as they weren't loaded down, bigger ships tended to be faster just by virtue of having more sail, but the bigger the ship the slower the turn. For a ship this size, thirty seconds was an absurdly fast turn. There were some single-masted ships that couldn't turn that quickly. "Very impressive." He couldn't think of anything else to say. If a sailor in a bar made a claim like that he'd have laughed at them. Something told him that Captain Vex was not exaggerating.

She pulled the chair down off the hooks on the wall and set it down in front of the table. "Sit."

Will sat. The map in front of him had a few points plotted. Belita had done a good job. "Looks good. I'd like to add in a stop here," he pointed to a trio of islands near where the Drifts were marked. "We might not need it, but that's the last good place to resupply before things get dicey. Besides that, the only change I'll recommend is that we swing out further west before turning north."

"Seems out of our way. Won't that add more than a day t' the trip?" Belita asked over his shoulder. "Also, it's heading intae storm season. Those waters might turn ugly inna moment."

"It will take longer at first, yes. We'll make up the time though," Will said tracing his finger along the map. "The storms are on our side right now. This time of year there's a good current and a northerly that could shave up to a week off our trip. There won't be a storm while we pass though, but they're gathering strength and we can use that."

"Freak storms do 'appen," Belita said, not convinced.

"They won't," Will said with a smile.

Captain Vex was incredulous. "Ye can predict the weather, can ye?"

"Somewhat. When it has to do with a route plan I usually have a rough idea how things are going to go. It's part of that whole 'witchcraft' thing I mentioned yesterday." Will tried to make that sound casual and normal.

"I really hope ye're not a fraud, Mister Stirling," Belita said. "Seems we are both putting lot of trust in each other's claims. Make yer changes."

"Aye, Captain," he said and started pulling and placing pins into the map.

_____________

"Stirling is aboard, Mistress," Quinn's rumbling voice gently penetrated Jack's sleep.

First she smiled, a small happy noise escaping her mouth. Then her eyes snapped open. "Fuck," she scowled, closing her eyes tight and trying to burrow beneath a pillow. "Already?" her muffled voice asked angrily.

"Yes," Quinn said. "He is currently meeting with Captian Vex." The pillow hit him in the chest. He caught it and set it down at the foot of the bed.

Jack replaced the pillow she'd thrown with her own arms, hiding her eyes under her forearms. Then she caught a whiff of herself. She turned her head and sniffed, wrinkling her nose. "Ugh," she muttered. She sat up and put her feat on the floor. "Can you..." she gestured to her naked body.

Quinn raised an eyebrow. "I can." He made no move to do anything.

"You know what I mean! Just because it's phrased as a question doesn't mean it's a request. I was trying to be polite." Jack said.

"I care little for politeness," Quinn said. He was amused, but it barely showed through on his face.

"But you care too much about formalities." Jack stood up.

"Not formalities. Traditions. They exist for a reason," Quinn corrected.

"Fine. I want you to clean me," Jack said firmly.

Quinn nodded and raised a hand. Mist quickly condensed in the the room, growing to a thick, heavy fog that clung to Jack and slicked her hair. Soon water was beading on her skin and rolling down her body to pool at her feet. Quinn used the cloth he'd held to her forehead earlier to wipe down her body from top to bottom. She sighed happily. The noonday sun had made the ship sweltering, and the heavy mist was comfortably cool.

When he was done he made a dismissive gesture and the water began to quickly evaporate. Within a minute the whole room was bone dry. Jack gave Quinn a kiss on the cheek. "Thank you." Quinn nodded.

Quinn picked up Jack's clothing and handed it to her piece by piece. "I didn't ask you to do that," Jack said, pulling on her breeches.

"You did not have to," Quinn answered.

"So I had to order you to clean me, but you don't need any kind of prompting to help me get dressed?" Jack rolled her eyes. "Your rules don't make any sense."

"Traditions," Quinn corrected again.

Jack buttoned her shirt. "It has been years and I still don't understand any of it."

"You know what to do if you ever tire of the confusion." Quinn knelt and helped Jack put her boots on.

"Just because you don't make any sense does not mean I want to be rid of you, Quinn. I like you. You're the only one I know I can trust," Jack smiled.

"Thank you, Mistress," Quinn said with a small bow. He opened the cabin door and followed Jack out.

________________

Will raised the folding desk up and latched it to the wall. "Done."

Belita strolled across the room and looked over his shoulder, giving the map a quick once-over. "As long as ye're right about th' storms, all that looks fine. I'll look it over more careful later."