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Fuck. This obviously wasn't going as she'd hoped. The cannon were low on ammo, though they'd ingeniously improvised with some chains, and even cutlery, doing a fork load of damage to the Royal Marines' vessels (pun intended). They hadn't been expecting an attack, and HMRM had been far more informed than the crew of the Ascent had thought. Rounding into the cove, the Ascent was stuck between three HMRM ships - one on either side and a third blocking their exit.

Marisol had been on the stern deck as the attack was realized, and the Marines made their demand of a peaceful surrender. But she also had seen the too-prepared gunners and the first shot - from a naval ship - flashing as the battle began. And now apparently it was winding to a close.

She strode with purpose through the bowels of the Ascent, the loose pants she wore billowing as her vest flapped open, revealing the well-fitted harem top she'd been wearing for years, its bangles drawing attention to the supple curves of her chest and away from the deadly saber on her hip. She pulled the cloth band she wore around her neck up onto her head, keeping her hair from sticking to her sweaty and ash-stained face as she tried to keep a level head in the chaos. She couldn't let these men go down without a fight. This had been her home for years, and she'd be damned if she gave it up now. Holstering a pistol from off the rack, she gave it a quick check before making her way to the one lifeboat they had. She would find whoever was in control here, if she had to go to Her Majesty herself, and regain some order.



James Turner sat at his regal looking desk a the head of the Ocean Runner, HMRM  fastest vessel.  At the moment, he was drafting a letter to her royal highness, telling of their decisive victory over the pirate fleet's last ship.  Although the battle had not yet been won, the ship's only visible life boat had begun to make it's way to his ship, carrying no other than the the captain herself!  A victory was in his hands, and the glory was all his.

Suddenly, a knock on his door brought him out of his own thoughts, and back to the battle still raging outside. "Sir, Captain Marisol of the Ascent requesting an audience.  She has been placed under arrest."  With that, one of the marines aboard the ship carried in said captain, slung over one shoulder.  "What shall we do with the wench, sir?"

"Leave her with me, but keep the restraints on her."  The marine threw the captain down onto the sofa adjacent to the desk, and took his leave with the other officer.  James then looked to his captive, with a mask of sympathy on his face.  "I must apologize for their brash treatment of you.  May I get you something to drink, my dear?"


Marisol hadn't been surprised by the cuffs, but she'd been flabbergasted when they'd calmly slug her over a shoulder, and had pounded her fists against the brute all the way to Master Turner's office. Now she sat, flushed and angry, her face pushed into the pillows as she wriggled to sit up straight. "Sir I demand at once that you cease and desist this barrage on my men. We were never offered the regular terms of surrender, and this is a wholly improper meeting. I demand respect as a captain, and a meeting on equal ground in which we can discuss terms of surrender."



Captain Turner smiled at her feisty remark, and took a quick drink of rum from the glass on the desk.  "Captain, you command a pirate vessel.  Why should I even suggest terms of surrender?  No, I think that a decisive victory over you and your crew, along with the destruction of your ship should compensate for the damages done to the ships of HMRM, and other merchant vessels."  James' face was stern looking now, having lost all of the initial merriment from Marisol's capture.  "We aboard the Ocean Runner will give you but one decency in battle.  We will spare you and your well-behaved crew members, but only if you can give me a good reason too."  With that, James once again sat in the chair behind the desk.  "Now, captain... convince me."


Marisol grimaced as she glared at him, her mind racing for an answer. Finally, she grasped a solution, though she didn't want to give it up. Her voice lowered, eyes still burning with hate, she stiffly spoke. "I can promise you a personal share of the Ascent's private cache." The loss was evident in her face, and her bitterness of giving up the riches she'd inherited as captain of the Ascent.



"I appreciate your willingness to relinquish your treasures, but we would have taken those anyway."  The captain took another drink of his rum before looking back at Marisol.  "However, there are still other treasures that I would like to have from your ship."  And she has been delivered right to my desk.  How fortunate...


Marisol raised her eyes to glare into him. "You read my tone as willingness? Captain, you are much mistaken. The treasures I speak of are kept in a multitude of different locations - no good pirate keeps all of his hoard in one chest. I can promise you riches beyond what the Royal Marines provide. Twenty times the wealth of the crown jewels - luxuries from exotic locales of the globe." As she spoke, Marisol shifted her weight a bit, the bangled chains of her bodice gently chiming. Her tone promising the dark seductions of India and Asia, as did the gold d****d over her, woven through her dark hair and pierced into her earlobes.



Humph.  She's a passionate wench.  This could take some work.  "Captain, please, I meant no disrespect.  I admire your success in pirating, and I believe your account of your wealth.  But that is still not convincing enough to me.  It would take a personal favor above all the stores of gold you own for your shipmates to be spared.  You should be thankful that you have the... assets needed for the favor I have in mind."  James tilted the glass of rum to his lips, and let his eyes peer over the rim and affix themselves to her chest.



Marisol's eyes narrowed, her head tilting slightly as she tried to decipher exactly what he meant. A hand snaked its way into the small pouch on the small of her back as her chest drew his attention away. "I promise you, Captain Turner, the wealth I'm offering would buy far more favors than I can offer." She felt over the exotic apothecary of items in her pocket, recognizing the stoppers containing poisons, antidotes, and d**gs of the Orient, spices of the South East, and invaluable potions from the deep Caribbean. Her travels endowed her with more vial-contained knowledge than could fill books, but now her fingers clasped onto the tiny vial filled with iocane powder, preparing to release it into the air.



Although her chest was tantalizing, his attention was inadvertently drawn to the movement of Marisol's arm, as it slipped into a what looked like a pouch of some sort.  James was quick to react, setting the glass down, and un-holstering his loaded pistol from his waist.  He pointed the gun at his captive, and clicked the hammer.  "Remove your hand from that pocket very slowly.  Then, lie face down on the couch, with your head away from me.  Now."


Carefully, Marisol took the vial next to the iocane - a sleeping draught, though he wouldn't know that - and drew it out very slowly, putting on a seductive look. "It is merely an aphrodisiac..." She smiled mischievously, holding the vial out from her body as best she could.



James rose from his chair, and, still holding the gun aloft, walked cautiosly toward Marisol.  He stopped, and a large grin spread over his face.  "Well then, captain, how about we give it a try?"  He quickly snatched the vial from her hand, noting the small embossment of a lily on the stopper.  He uncorked the vial, and held it before his captive's mouth.  "You first."  Without waiting for a reply, James shoved the vial into Marisol's mouth, and poured the vial into her mouth.  His other hand dropped the gun onto the floor, and gripped her head.  He removed the vial, and clamped her jaw shut while covering her nose and mouth, forcing her to swallow.


Forcing the liquid out of her throat, struggling against James, Marisol's throat swallowed nothing, an automated reaction, while the liquid remained in her mouth, settling beneath her tongue. Playing the part, her eyes fluttered closed, nearly swooning, and she shivered slightly, as though her inner sexuality was awakening.


Hmmm... works a little faster than i remember...  James let go of Marisol's face, but kept a grip on her hair as he picked up the gun again.  He kept it well out of her reach as he stood back to gauge her full reaction to the aphrodisiac.

As soon as he let go of her, Marisol spat the liquid at his face, her expression reverting to anger. "You bastard." She stated, realizing what his intentions were.


James was very careful not to get any of the liquid into his eyes or mouth as he wiped it off, thinking it to be a poison of some sort.  "That is going to cost you dearly, my dear."  He then swung a well aimed blow at Marisol's temple, hard enough to knock her out, but not hard enough to do anything more than just give her a bruise.  He then let go of her hair, and let her body drop.

Before the gun hit her, Marisol barely managed a snappish "Bite m-"

Marisol's body slumped against the sofa, u*********s for a good while.  "I might do just that, you little wench..."  James was talking aloud, but only to himself as he reset the hammer and put the gun back in it's holster.  He then reached into Marisol's pockets (there were a vast number of them, and emptied them all into his own.  He then flung her limp body over his shoulders, and carried her in through a doorway into his private cabin.  He laid her face down on his bed, and uncuffed her.  He then attached one cuff to the bar at the top of the bed.  He took the other pair of cuffs from off his belt, and attached one of those cuffs to the bar at the bottom.  He then took the knife from off of Marisol's ankle, and proceeded to cut off all of her clothes.  He then removed any holsters and straps holding various weapons from her, leaving her totally naked.  He rolled her over, and centered her body on the bed.

He walked over to his footlocker, and removed the leather cords he kept there.  He then tied Marisol's hands above her head, and attached the other cuff to the length of cord in between.  He did the same for her ankles before standing and admiring his captive still u*********s on the bed.  The sun was already low in the sky, so James lit the one candle beside the bed, and sat in chair, looking her naked body over, and waiting.


Marisol slowly and groggily awoke in stages, starting to stir as she felt her arms moving above her. She felt odd - like she had a massive hangover - and it took her a minute or two to feel conscious. When she did she first noticed the air of the cabin on her skin. Her naked skin. Once she realized that, she had a much clearer vision of how the Captain planned to entreat "favors."

"You fucking bastard!" Her eyes burst open, glad the light was low, as she began to thrash against her bindings, feeling a slight twinge of pride as she felt the leather slip a millimeter or two before it locked into its knots.


"Humph, maybe I should have gagged you too..."  James rose from the chair, and waltzed over to the bedside.  He took her head in his hands, and turned it to face him.  He stared deeply into her eyes before placing the blindfold over them and quickly tying it tight around her head.  He then stood back from her thrashing form, and began to take off his clothes.


Knowing that even if he did gag her she could still scream exceedingly loudly, Marisol didn't quiet down. "I'd rather die than fuck you, Monarchist pig," She spat, moving enough to rattle the bed. "And when I die your chance at that fortune is gone - you'll lose all the vast wealth I could have provided -- in knowledge and gold."



"Such a fiery temper!  I think that it might be best to let you cool down for a bit, eh?"  James was now down to his trousers, now topless and barefoot.  He walked over to the door and opened it before pausing.  "I'll be back when you seem a little more enthusiastic."  James then closed the door in front of him, and stood very still, barely breathing, hoping she thought that he was truly gone.


Marisol grit her teeth as he left, then screamed after him in fury. This was ridiculous. A million ideas raced through her mind, and finally she decided on appealing to the moral side of another member of the ship. She took a deep breath, then screamed again, a high shriek, then wailed, "Oh please, God, please someone come help me!" If need be she could act the helpless damsel - if necessary she could seduce a chambermaid to release her. Rubbing her head against the bed she managed to lift the edge of the blindfold just enough to see the pile of her clothes and weapons next to the bed. If she could get a hand free.... she again wriggled, focusing on removing just one hand from the leather cord.



Maybe a gag would help...  James crept silently over to the bed, and quickly jerked Marisol's hand back into it's starting position.  Before she could as much as scream, he picked up a sock, and shoved it into her mouth, bunching it over her tongue.  He then kicked the pile of clothes away, and was about to give her a damn good reason to be quiet, when he was interrupted by a knock at the door.  "Sir!  Are you alright in there?  I heard someone screaming."

James went to the door and spoke through it: "Yes I am, thank you.  Miss Marisol and I are going over... terms of surrender, and she's not taking them very well.  You might hear some screams in the future, but pay them no mind."

The first mate laughed at the statement, knowing full well that the captain was now his personal wench.  "As you wish sir.  I'll keep all marines on board away from your cabin."  With that, the marine's footsteps receded, until they disappeared behind the other door.  James then turned his attention back to his captive.



Marisol screamed again, through the gag - those things were so pointless, after all - her throat grating  as the sound rang out. When he looked away to answer the knock she spat the fabric out - "****! Oh God please help he's r****g meeee!" She screamed as loud as her lungs could manage, even piercing her own ears.


"They don't care!"  James shouted it over her, it a futile effort to silence her.  "We do this all the time!!!  Listen for a second!  Hear any cannons?  Where do you think you crew is being held at?"  James laughed maniacally at this, and quickly ran to the bedside, and replaced the gag, this time tying it it with the other sock.  "Now take it quietly like all of your other crew members."


"They don't care!"  James shouted it over her, it a futile effort to silence her.  "We do this all the time!!!  Listen for a second!  Hear any cannons?  Where do you think you crew is being held at?"  James laughed maniacally at this, and quickly ran to the bedside, and put his hand firmly over her mouth.  "Now take it quietly like all of your other crew members."  He then removed his hand, and used it to removes his pants.

Switching tactics, Marisol tried to appeal to his moral side. "Look, I'm a pirate - what do you think we do? We **** and pillage. But I've been a part of it and I've seen enough of it to know that those who do it hold the guilt. When you see a girl being ****d - when you participate - it's not lust you feel after. It's disgust. I'm giving you a chance now to redeem yourself and live up to Her Majesty's standards. I will go into your custody as a prisoner, fully willing to be hanged for my crimes. But save yourself the guilt and clothe me." 


James' hands stopped at his waistband.  He knew full well that this went against everything he had every believed, but by GOD was he desperate!  He had been craving excitement when he enlisted, yet he had been put right onto this cursedly boring vessel, doing endless paperwork for Her Royal Majesty's large and over-pampered ass.  This was supposed to be his excitement.  He had always seen it happen with other sailors, and he craved the danger of it all.  Why did his morals have to get in the way now?  Suddenly, her last words made their impact on him.  "And who are you to be so noble, captain?  You command the ****rs and pillagers.  How can you guilt me when you're guilty yourself?"


Marisol nearly sighed with relief at his pause. "Do you think it doesn't pain me?" She asked, gently, her voice slightly hoarse from earlier screaming, "But the ones who show up to be pirates - well, you can expect what they want. I'm a rare case in the business, I keep a firm hold on my men, but if I denied them every sinful pleasure there would be mutiny. Besides which, I require my men to have the permission of any women they bring aboard, unless they are strict enemies of the vessel, and even then they are provided room and board. I ask my men to keep their whores on shore. They can do as they wish when I'm not involved. But my early days.... well, I haven't always been Captain. And initiation for me on my first vessel... and second..." She trailed off, actually affected by her tale, remembering the faces of victims.


Revelation was slowly setting upon James.  He still wanted this wench, but... it didn't feel... no.  It wasn't right.  He knew that all along.  He had the same rules on his ship, so does that make him this woman's equal?  He just didn't know anymore.  He turned away from the bed, and began to reassemble his appearance.  When he was finished, He took the blindfold off of Marisol.  He then began to untie her restraints, being careful not to look at her while he did so.  He finished with one hand, and began on her ankle restraints.  "Captain... I must apologize.  I... I am so terribly sorry.  I see your point, and it has inspired thought in me.  I have a plan to save your ship, but you need trust me, and go along with my lead."  He now looked in her eyes, a look of genuine remorse on his face.



Marisol blinked in surprise as he let her go, noticing his state of partial undress and hurriedly covering her own nakedness with the sheet of the bed, rubbing her wrists to remove the soreness of the cord. She felt odd. She wasn't used to having connections with her enemies, nor was she expecting such a drastic change of heart. She was dumbstruck, and her utter shock was clear as he looked at her. ".....My clothes..." She spoke quietly, looking down, a blush creeping onto her face for the first time in years.

James finished with the knot, and retrieved Marisol's clothes from the bedside.  He wrapped her pistol and knives up in them, and handed them to her.  "Work on undoing those other two knots.  I need to take care of something before I leave."  James went to his chest, and retrieved the pistol lying on the ground next to it.  He then reached into the trunk, and withdrew a pendant, compass, and knife.  He attached the knife to his belt, and holstered the pistol.  He then placed the pendant around his neck, and the compass in his right pocket.  Walking swiftly over to the door, he went through back into his office.  Here he took the ornate sword off of the wall, and attached it to his belt above the knife.  He grabbed his trench-coat from the coat rack, and strode back over to the door.  He knocked twice:  "Are you decent?"


Marisol had removed her restraints swiftly despite her shock, and was finishing placing the last of her many knives on her as he knocked. "Yes, thank you." She answered, djusting her spangled top to avoid meeting his eyes as he entered. "I would like nack my apothecary, if you wouldn't mind. Those miniscule bottles contain specimens of great value to me."


"Yes, of course.  James reached into his pockets, and give each vial in turn back to Marisol.  "Now, about getting you and your crew out of here.  I know where they would be kept.  All you need to do is tell me is how many there are, and trust that I won't betray you.  We have to act quickly though, so what say you?"


"I trust you." She agreed without pause. "There are at least 10 good men I want to keep. I don't know how many were lost in the battle, but we'd had 50-some odd on board.'

"Well then, we are looking for 40 survivors.  It feels disgraceful to admit, but one of our policies is to keep 80% alive, and 'lose' the rest..."  James' eyes focused on the ground as he said it, unwilling to meet Marisol's eyes.  This, however, only lasted a moment, and before long his focus was back on the task at hand.  "They will be held on Lower Deck B, and the fastest route happens to be close by.  If anyone stops us, or even sees us, they need to think that I've... finished with you, and am bringing you to the hold with the others.  So I'm going to carry you in the same fashion that you were brought here with.  He then held the handcuffs up to Marisol.  "Now please, turn around.  You are temporarily under arrest."


Marisol hesitated. "Just a minute." She adjusted one of her holsters, placing it to be within reach from her hands cuffed position - just in case - then let her head fall as she turned, her arms out, for him to cuff her. Summoning her emotion up again, she let herself look broken - tears beginning to well up in her eyes naturally as she tried to gain the expression of previous victims - the same loss of hope and sense of failure. "Go-" she nearly hiccuped, "Go ahead."

James put the cuffs on Marisol, moved by her expression.  He decided that he needed to look the part, so he conjured up the most smug and triumphant look he could muster, before kicking open his door, and striding with his captive toward the hold.  He only encountered a few marines, and their only reaction was a smile, a wink, and a a nod.  He returned the gesture, disgust building with each encounter.  He finally reached the door to the hold, and he hastily climbed down the stairs, careful not to drop Marisol.  He rushed down the corridor, and took a left to the second staircase.  He descended those stairs, and came face-to-face with the guard on duty.  "Good afternoon, Marine.  I have one here freshly broken by yours truly to go in the hold."

"Certanly, sir.  Ooh, she does look a bit roughed-up t'ere.  Had yer way wi' 'er, did'ja?"  The guard turned to unhook the key from the wall, and was immediately rendered u*********s by a swift blow by the captain.  "Low-brow bastard."  James then set Marisol down, and undid the restraints.  He grabbed the keys, and tossed them to her as he began to run down the corridor.  "I have a quick errand to attend to.  Free your men, and wait for me there."  With a final nod, James disappeared around the corner.


Wary that there could be more guards, Marisol unsheathed a blade as she caught the keys, moving to undo the door. Her presence at first brought a groan from her men before they saw she was unbound. Their sound of loss nearly changed to a roar of approval but for Marisol's careful motion over her lips, asking them to remain impassive. Her eyes sparked with the approval of her crew, a new mischief entering them. "I've made an arrangement. Remain here but ready yourselves for combat just in case. If all goes well we'll be leaving this hell-hole momentarily." She undid first one side cell then the other, conversing with her closest officers on the yet-unknown plan, leaving quite a bit of her story out. "The Captain seems to be -" She was explaining to her artillery commander as she was grasped from behind tightly in an embrace.

Marisol turned and smiled at the girl who held her so tightly. "Em," She grinned, kissing her lover quickly as the younger woman squeezed her again, and then excusing herself. Emmaline, Marisol's occasional casual lover, was like a feathery light pixie to Marisol's dark carnal looks, but her optimism and whimsy complemented Marisol in the best ways - and together they had dynamite chemistry. Taking Emma's lips again, Marisol lowered her voice. "I meant to apologize to you - after what nearly happened to me..." Marisol shook her head.

"I'm just glad you're safe," Emmaline smiled, squeezing her sweetheart again.


James knew that they confis**ted arms in the hold, and he was headed straight for the armory.  He unlatched the door with his personal key, and opened it hastily.  He grabbed several rifles from the rack on the side, and carried them like firewood back across the threshold.  James broke out into a run on his way back, eager to leave this prison.  As he rounded the corner his eyes caught sight of something that made him stop dead.  Marisol was kissing another woman!  Wait, then if she's a lesbian, then what I was going to do was... oh God...  James thankfully regained his composure before the crew spotted him.  As he drew closer, however, they did finally see him, and a few dropped into a fighting stance.  James held his ground, and looked to Marisol to control them.

Marisol held a hand up, signaling to her men that this was a friend, not foe. She pushed Emmaline away to retrieve a weapon as she motioned to her top officers to help distribute arms. As they took the weapons, handing them out, Marisol went to James' side. "Thanks, again," she murmured, tentatively touching his arm, "I don't know what would've happened if.... well.... thank you."


James smiled at her acknowledgment of him, but only briefly.  His attention was drawn to the sound of approaching footsteps from the floor above.  "Fuck.  Excuse me a moment."  He hurried to the stairs, and was halfway up before the eight marines got to them.  "Good afternoon, gentlemen.  What seems to be the problem?"  He tried to hide his anxiety, and formulate a plan to get out of this without breaking a sweat in front of his men.  It wasn't going too well.

"Sir, we heard alert bells for both the cell doors, and the armory.  There has been a break-out."  Damnit!!  He had forgotten about those.  His own design even!  Each door in the hold area was affixed with a rope that ran through the ceiling, and tied off to the mast above deck.  Suspended along the rope were bells at every level.  If a door was moved, then the bells would all ring.  Damn!  Now the whole ship could be alerted...  Think, think...  Coming up with not a single brilliant plan, Captain Turner decided to follow his gut.  He turned on his heels and jumped down the stairs three at a time, running like hell to the crowd of pirates below.  James quickly made it to Marisol, and he grabbed her by the arm to whisper to her:  "Play along."  He then backed up about four paces, and wildly looked over his shoulder at the eight marines now coming down the stairs.  "Help!!", James shouted, but only loud enough to hear in the general area.  "The prisoners have escaped!"

The eight other marines then drew their swords, and ran to help their captain.  As they past him, he caught the last one with his ankle, and gave him a swift kick to the head.  He then looked to the pirates to see how they fared.


Marisol looked at James, her eyes wide with a "what were you thinking" expression as the Marines rushed down. Keeping her composure, she rushed to Emmaline's side, trading her own pistol for the rifle, which she promptly cracked across the face of the next Marine to enter the hold. Emma took another two on her own, as a great shot, and Marisol gave her a proud closed lip smile as the other five were made quick work of - one by James, even. There was a pause as the fight was dropped, the poor Marine bastards never even drawing their firearms.

James signaled for Marisol to follow him before turning back up the stairs.  He encountered no other marines on LD-A, but he knew that they would have to fight their way through the main deck.  As he was running down the hall, he called to Marisol.  "I'll secure the life boats for you-all.  Keep any marines you find busy while I do so."  As they reached the stairs, James paused, drew his sword and pistol, and ran up the stairs to the crowd of marines overhead.


Marisol rolled her eyes, but took her pistol back from Emmaline with a grumble of "Stupid man." She hopped the stairs two at a time and grabbed James from behind, causing him to drop his weapons as she cocked the pistol and placed it to his head. "Good sirs, I have your Captain as my hostage. I suggest you lower your weapons or you will be without a leader." She nudged James, lowering her voice, "Captain, please command your men to allow my crew to leave unharmed - or you may soon be missing some very valuable parts of your anatomy."

Hearing a scuffle, followed by the pause that indicated a forced stalemate, and Emma's voice - though the words were unclear - Marisol raised her voice again. "It seems that other members of your crew are also our captives. I advise your hurried surrender."


James was surprised at first, but soon got the idea.  He put on a look of fear and anxiety for the benefit of his own crew, waiting for Marisol's wild plan to fall into place.  "Do as she says!  Their crew isn't worth my life!"  God, that sounds so narcissistic.  I can't believe that I used to think of myself that way...


Marisol moved out of the way as her crew surfaced, with another few Marines as prisoners. She nodded to Emmaline, who shunted her charge to the side, drawing his blade. "You-" Emma gestured to one of the youngest members of the crew, "Prepare the lifeboats."


The crew all looked at the young marine, who clumsily ran over to the nearest lifeboat and began to untie the mooring knots attaching it to the ship's hull.  Seeing his trembling fingers struggling with the large ropes, more of the crew began to help him, as well as untie the other two lifeboats.  Marisol waved her gun at the marines, gesturing for them to back away from the boats, except for the one marine holding each rope.  She then gave James a push forward towards the boats, motioning for the rest of her crew to follow.  Emmaline and the rest of the crew took their hostages, and one-by-one thrust them at the marines as they boarded the lifeboats.  In a few short minutes, the first two lifeboats were in the water, and the third was fully boarded... with the exception of James and Marisol.  One of the marines stepped forward and began to shout at Marisol, "Hey!  Release our captain!  We prepared your damn lifeboats!"


Marisol whirled on him, her hair whipping around her as she jabbed the pistol at James' forehead. "You expect us to leave this ship without a collateral defense?" She barked a laugh, "What, and let you shoot us in the backs? No, thank you. We'll take our leave now and you may pick up your Captain from the other side of the cay tomorrow evening. If you come within view we will move elsewhere, and if you dare to come within firing range your dear leader will pay the price. You may assure your Captain a comfortable stay by providing us with stores - which he will share equally with us, so don't bother poisoning it." She ordered, dragging James back with her toward the last lifeboat.


Three members of the crew disappeared into the storeroom momentarily, before returning with three crates of vitals.  They carried them to the lifeboat, and dropped them in, being very careful to bang them on the bench.  After they had deposited their loads, Marisol waved them away with her pistol.  They backed up to the rest of the crew, glaring at Marisol the whole way.



The crew lowered down the last of the lifeboats as Marisol and James settled in. Once they were out of earshot of the crew, Marisol made as though she were whispering a threat, and hissed, "You've got to act as though you'd try to get away if you had the chance - be heroic and all that - don't worry, we can take your pathetic struggles," There was a joking gleam in her eye as she said that and used a pair of rawhide straps to cuff his wrist to hers. With a final glance up at the Marine crew, and a gesture of the pistol against James' temple, the three lifeboats moved off in close formation.


James began to look around the lifeboat wildly, as if looking for a route of escape.  He pulled at the restraint to test how secure the knot was, barely suppressing his joy of finally being freed from that hellhole.  He made one or two "attempts" at escape on the way to the pirate ship, but, like Marisol had said, he was quickly brought under control.  He didn't want to give his crew too much hope of rescuing him.



Once they were safely around the bend of the cay, Marisol removed the rawhide cuff and turned to James. "So, I assume you don't plan to return to the Marines, do you?"



James looked at Marisol, then out to the sea, before finally tilting his head to the sky and laughing with all of his heart, relishing in his freedom.  He paused a minute before turning back to Marisol.  "In case you're wondering, that's a yes."  James could now see what he guessed was their destination.  Another pirate vessel, slightly smaller than the Ascent, but still large nonetheless.  It would take all 30-odd crewmen, along with Marisol and himself, to manage it.  As they neared the ship, a young woman stepped out onto the deck, and waived to the boats.  She then turned to yell something at a group of men who had emerged soon after her.  They ran to the side of the ship, and began preparing to receive the lifeboats.

Marisol cracked a bit of a wry smile at James' reaction, surprised to see how suddenly c***dishly giddy he'd become. "Dahlia-" Marisol lifted a hand in gesture to the other woman, who swept into a melodramatic bow, flourishing the classic feathered cap with a grin. The two women together guided the boats to dock, and assigned quarters to the mixed crews.

After given some time to settle into his new cabin - not as luxurious as that which he had previously occupied, but not quite standard crew either - Marisol knocked on James' berth door, firmly, checking the pocketwatch she'd tucked into her change of clothes: a loose billowy top wrapped at the abdomen with multiple layers of cord, and the same skirt-like pants of before. She'd pulled her hair back with one of Dahlia's gem-encrusted clips, though most of it remained loose down her back.


James heard the knock on his cabin door, and, being fully ready, told whoever it was to enter.  He wasn't surprised to see Marisol, and was in fact expecting her.  "This cabin is amazing, Marisol.  Thank you for the hospitality.  But, I still regret my actions when I first met you, and I would like to make them up to you."


Meeting his eyes evenly, Marisol entered and shut the door behind her firmly. She ignored his apology. "While on this ship you will refer to me as Captain Pait until given permission to do otherwise." She pointed to the desk chair, authoritatively, "Sit." She ordered. "Now is the time to ask questions, and I suggest you do. You're the honored guest at tonight's dinner, which will commence in approximately half an hour, so now is all the time I'm willing to spare for you."



"I apologize, captain Pait... I meant no disrespect.  As for questions, I have but one.  What are you going to do about the armada of marine ships that is about to descend upon you?  I don't think that they will be happy having one of their top admirals captured by pirates."  James toyed absentmindedly at his cuff link as he looked at the Captain, straight in her authoritative face.



Marisol stared at him, coldly. "....What a waste of a question," she shook her head, "Do you honestly think I'm about to tell you? You, Turner, have forced me to blindly trust; now it's your turn. Rest assured we have a plan, you will simply have to be ready at any and all times." She turned to leave, then looked back at him at the door, "And here I thought you were going to ask me about the rules of the ship, the etiquette, and my relationship with Emma and Dahlia." She shrugged, "Oh well, then." She placed her hand on the knob, taking her time to witness his reaction.



James put his hands up in the air, in mock surrender to Marisol's lecture.  Truth be told, be was curious as to the little triangle that she was insinuating to, but he had other concerns right now.  Even so, he decided that it would be best to appease her, and go along with her questioning.  "Alright then Captain, what is your relationship with the other two?  I noticed that Emmaline and... Dahlia was it?  Well, they look very alike, and i had wondered if they were sisters.  You seem to have claimed one as your own, so would it be brash to ask for the other?"  A loud chuckle came from James with that, and he paused before continuing.  "I jest, Captain Pait.  And as for the etiquite and rules, I have been aboard many a vessel to know what they are, and I should pick up on the nuances over dinner.  And, seeing as that is within the hour, I won't keep you any longer.  Until then, Captain."  Captain Turner tipped his fake hat at her, before relaxing back in the chair.


Within an instant, Marisol was behind him with one of her many knives at his throat, already nicking the skin. "I had suggested you ask, not imply, sir," she hissed, "Had you politely asked I may have told you of our interesting dynamic, but as you instead assumed-" with that word she pressed the blade a little harder, her hand clenched in his hair to pull his head back as though killing in hunt, "-I won't." She leaned over him to growl into his ear. "While on this ship Captain Jenner and I are to be treated with the utmost respect. You are here by my mercy and don't you dare forget it." The blade was lifted somewhat to skim up towards his chin and along his cheek. "We don't like arrogance around here - especially not from ex-Marines. Your tongue, sir, needs discipline." With that she flicked her knife back into her wrist holster as she stood, letting his head drop back to his chest, as - in one swift motion - she left, slamming the door behind her.


James sat in the chair, rubbing the mark that the knife left on his neck.  "I should tell her that she's alive because of my mercy."  He continued to mutter under his breath, but decided to give it no more thought.  Instead, he began to put his appearance together for the dinner with her royal majesty the captain.  Man, she's up tight.  Her arrest might be harder than I imagined.  And all for one moment of weakness and sympathy.  If I knew what she was really like, I'd have just left her in the hold and saved myself all this trouble...  His thoughts continued to wander as he checked his appearance in the small mirror on the wall.  Seeing that he was presentable, James turned to the door, opened it, and proceeded in the direction of the mess hall.


Emmaline peeped out from around the corner, stepping out to follow James. "James Turner." She called to him, giving him a curious cock of the head, her blonde curls tumbling over one shoulder, as she looked him over, expecting him to turn.


James turned on his heel to face his inquirer.  Now this is a surprise...  "Hello there Emmaline."  He took a few steps towards her before continuing.  "I hoped that I would run into someone in the halls.  Is this the way to the mess hall, or have I taken another wrong turn?"  James weakly smiled at her, hoping that she wouldn't be as stern with his light attitude as Marisol had.


Emmaline shot him her blinding pearly smile. "Actually, you won't be dining in the mess. I thought Maris- Captain Pait told you. You're an honored guest. You'll be dining with the commanders tonight." She was younger than Marisol, that was obvious, though not by much - still in her late teens or early twenties, she just had such an air of innocence about her it was hard to tell.

Emma had changed clothes as well, as most of the commanders had, and now her golden hair was held back with a delicate comb of pearl and shell. Her body was tastefully displayed to its full advantage, the full skirt with a slit partway up the side to allow movement as well as flashes of skin, and the bustier framing her cleavage in more pearlescent beading and lace. She looked angelic - and so out of place onboard.

"You may follow me, if you like...." She paused, her smiling face taking on a look of slight pondering, "What shall I call you?"


"Call me James."  He flashed her a warm smile, and began to walk beside her.  "I'm sorry, I'm not being a proper gentleman.  Allow me to properly walk with you."  James then placed his hand next to his hip, forming a triangle at waist level with his arm.  "What may I call you?"

Emma casually looped her arm through his, "Most people call me Emmaline, as you did. But if you'd like you may call me Emma. Ma- Sorry, Captain Pait, probably wouldn't like that, though." Glancing at him with a mischievous look in her eyes, she noted, unnecessarily, "She doesn't like you." 


"Hahahah!  I got that point after she put the knife to my throat."  James used his free hand to put his still red mark on display for Emma.  "I'll be sure to use the proper formalities tonight at dinner.  For your sake and mine."  James smiled, as the thought of Marisol flogging them both popped into his head.  "I wouldn't want her mad at you too."


"Oh, I don't mind having her mad at me," Emmaline hid a smile, her tone like a wink. "But I appreciate the thought nonetheless... you should definitely try to keep to her good side." She slowed as they neared a door at the end of the hall. "I'd suggest you avoid addressing anyone but Captains Jenner and Pait until you know others' names." She told him in a lowered voice before dropping his arm and opening the door to the dark sophisticated luxury of the Captain's dining room.


The room certainly was regal.  James was taken slightly aback at it's eloquence before remembering his manners, and bowing at the door before addressing himself.  "Good evening, Captains Pait and Jenner.  I would like to thank you for your hospitality towards me today, and would like to express my gratitude for all you have done."  James rose from his bow, an was guided by Emma to an open seat at the table.  He sat, as did his escort.


James' seat was directly to the left of Emma, directly to the left of Dahlia, who sat at the head of the table as the captain of their current ship, and directly across from Marisol, who sat at Dahlia's right hand. The conversation started up formally enough, with James being introduced as "Master Turner" to the (surprisingly) mostly-male commanding officers of the Ascent and, their current ship, the Leviathan.

After polite introduction, Dahlia raised her goblet. "I'd like to propose a toast of bonding to our former-Marine friend," she nodded to James, "And a farewell to our great sister-ship: Long live the Ascent." The last phrase was murmured in repetition as guests took of their own goblets.

Before James could set his back down, Emma took it and raised it - as everyone else was doing with that of the person sitting to their left - and gave James a pointed look. This was his chance to perhaps mend some still-sore wounds with his own oath of allegiance to the ship and captains.


James quickly took the hint, and reached over to the officer sitting to his direct left.  He raised his goblet, as he saw Emma do with his, and quickly came up with a short toast to the rest of the crew.  Luckily, James had always been a quick thinker.  "I would like to hereby pledge my everlasting allegiance to Captain Pait, Captain Jenner, and the rest of the officers and crew of both the Ascent and the Leviathan.  I, James Turner,  am at your service."  With that, he took a tenative drink from the goblet, before seeing the rest of the crew doing the same, and drinking a full mouthful from the cup.  He then watched as Emma took his goblet, and placed it in front of Dahlia.  He did the same, placing the man-to-his-left's goblet in front of Emma.  He, in turn, received the goblet from the female captain two to his left, and gave her a nod of thanks.

Now that the toast was over, some of the crew began small conversations.  James gave a sigh of relief, thankful that he hadn't messed anything up.... yet.



Emma's lips curled in a smile as she saw Marisol narrow her eyes at Emma's new friend's toast. Once the toast had been made, and the goblets passed again - a sign of trust among allies - the meal officially began. At a small signal from Dahlia, the servants brought out dishes to be shared amongst the guests, and peoples' attention was diverted to food, the conversation to continue between courses.

Emma gently placed her hand on James' leg beneath the table, leaning slightly when Marisol wasn't looking to murmur to him, "Well done," her voice had a tone of amusement so common to her personality, "Now we'll eat - conversation should be cultural and intelligent but not inflammatory. I suggest you introduce yourself to Lieutenant Dae, he's the one directly across from you, he runs intelligence."

The man, Dae, was a meek-looking fellow of Polynesian descent, with a wide face and small eyes. At the moment he seemed to be silent, and looked to be a boring man, but the crew knew him as a fierce and imposing lieutenant when it came to the art of espionage and secrecy. His meek exterior was a temporary facade for the benefit of his Captains, in order to read this Turner fellow as best as possible.


James gave the man a once-over, quickly determining as much as he could about his appearance.  He noticed the scars on his arms and chest, suggesting that he wasn't as frail as he looked.  In addition, he was a pirate officer.  Who could trust anything about him?  "Excuse me...  Lieutenant Dae?  I understand you are in charge of intelligence.  I was in the same branch of work while in the marines; we could have much to discuss."  Now to snag his attention... and trust.  "In fact... I have some information about both sides that you might be privy to if you so desire."  James took a fork-full of food into his mouth while waiting for Dae's reply.

The Lieutenant was mildly interested by James' first statement, but still thought it to be useless babble.  He could already tell James was smart, so he was steal wary of any tricks he might try and pull.  The second part of his introduction, however, produced a spark of interest in Dae.  "Both sides you say?  Well, I regret to inform you that any intelligence gained by HMRM about any of our pirate operations is false.  We keep our secrets well hidden, Mr. Turner."  Dae's eyes narrowed at James, now interested, but still wary of him and what he had to say next.


Marisol casually pushed the food around on her plate, feeling both exhausted from the day's activity and tense about presenting the plan of action after the meal. She listened carefully to the talk between Turner and the Lieutenant. Shon Dae was smart - he'd been offered higher positions on the Ascent under it's previous captain as well as Marisol, but he'd politely refused. In fact, Shon was one of the few members that had stayed on when Marisol had inherited the Ascent as captain. Of the others, two had since left, and only Lieutenant Dae and the hard gunner in charge of artillery, Friedrich Canerzt - known as Cane - remained.


James leaned closer to Dae so that he could talk quietly with him.  "I can assure you that our information was accurate.  How else did we ambush the Ascent today?  I can tell you with the utmost honesty that we knew much more than you think.  If you wish, I could tell you everything we had gathered from you, as well as any of our own plans that I know about.  Although, some may have been drastically changed after my departure.  We too had a very cunning head of intelligence.  He was even aboard the Ascent for a short time.  Do you recall one 'Osbourne ßrüwen'?"


Marisol gritted her teeth at the name. The man had been a pig. Disgusting in all ways, a sickeningly sweet and fake charm that had earned him a load of enemies on board, and garnered suspicion leading to his release from the ship. 

Shon's eyes sparked, intrigued, "Yes, I do... we had suspicions of him being a spy, we fed him some inaccurate information before releasing him... apparently not soon enough...."

"Yes, I do remember something in his report about some raid on The Magistrate while she was traveling between the capital and Dalthia...  I must say, that was a fine story.  We sent three good ships as escorts.  But not all the information he brought back was false.  He is the reason that we knew you would be in the cove, and we knew a general idea of the amount of ammo you had, which is how we called your little bluff at the beginning of the battle."  James took a few bites of food from the platter, and a drink from his goblet, before addressing the man for the last time that evening.  "Well Lieutenant, it has been a pleasure discussing this with you, and I hope that I get the chance to work with you in the intelligence department here aboard the Leviathan.  But now, I think that I should introduce myself to the other officers aboard this ship."

Dae mumbled something of a reply about looking forward to it too before returning to his own plate.  James then turned back to Emma, who was looking at him inquisitively.  "That was a good show you put on James.  I think that you will be quite welcome here."  For a moment, it seemed like she was about to make another move under the table, but she suddenly straightened, and returned to her own plate, without so much as a sideways glance his way.  James looked at her questioningly, before looking around the table.  His eyes caught those of Marisol, who was looking at Emma with a look of annoyance in her face.


Marisol glared at Emma with a look of perturbance on her face. So much for expecting her lover to take her side. She continued to watch Emma, who was casually looking at her plate as she ate, and nearly jumped in alarm when she felt her calf rubbed by a gentle foot. She blushed slightly, narrowing her eyes at Emma, who had a slight smile as she continued to play footsies under the table. In moving her legs out of reach of her lover, Marisol's slipper-clad feet brushed over James', causing her to flush again, and glare at Emma.

"Don't worry, she'll grow on you," Emma murmured, her lips barely moving, though her words were obviously directed at James.


James forced back a smile that was threatening to creep onto his lips.  He knew what Emma was up to under the table, and had almost jumped a little when Marisol accidentally brushed his own leg.  He decided to have a bit of fun himself.  "I hope so."  James' words were just as muttered as Emma's, but still clearly directed to her.  "And if not, I still have you on my side, right?"  James gave Emma's leg a slight brush with his own foot on the last word.


"Naturally," Emma purred, running her foot lightly over the back of James' calf, playfully. "Though my opinion doesn't weigh quite as heavily as our dear Captain's."


"Still," James slid his foot to the other side of her leg, stroking her inner ankle, "it's better than nothing."  James now lowered his voice to a growl.  "And, in fact, weighs more heavily on me than you might think."


Noticing the quiet exchanges, Marisol was eager to break up the little party between her lover and her decided enemy. She was glad when the table was cleared from the main course, and quickly stood to hush the table.

"My good men - and women," she nodded to her female commanders, "As you know, we're in a bit of a bind with these Royal Marines. We have Master Turner, here-" she gestured somewhat bitterly to James, "As our hostage - according to them anyway - and must return him tomorrow evening around on the shore of the cay. Honestly.... this is a difficult situation. The enemy is close at hand, and aware of our movements - or so they think. Our good Lieutenant Dae has already arranged a small core of men to lead a distraction tactic, and they're currently camped just out of view of the Royal ships, letting off enough smoke to suggest a large encampment. Our hope is to navigate throughout the night, returning to the Morcaine port to completely clear ship by tomorrow morning. If all goes well, we'll be situated in a new ship by tomorrow afternoon and may continue on our merry way under a new flag and apparently clean record. Any of you who wish to leave the ship may, but as I understand none of you have requested to do so." She glanced around, in case anyone disagreed. Seeing no argument, Marisol continued.

"Our next route is a debate between the Caribbean and India - each has their current high point: the Caribbean will be thriving on their sugar trade this time of year, as will the Indian spice market. This will be put for a vote tomorrow evening, I'd like you all to take into consideration the choices and prepare your decision for discussion at the open forum then." Glancing around, Marisol added, "Now, unless there are any questions, I believe dessert is served."


James stood on the deck of the Leviathan, leaning against the rope railing of the bow.  His head was swimming with the events of the day, and his now slightly murkier charge.  This... Emma, certainly made his mission emotionally harder.  What was he thinking?  She's just a wench.  So why does it feel wrong to sell them all out?  You're going soft among so many attractive women...  His thoughts continued to wander, until he felt a tap on his shoulder.  He turned to see none other than Emma, leaning her weight on one side, with her head slightly cocked at him.  "Why, good evening Emma.  What do I owe this pleasant surprise?"


Emma looked him over with a curious gaze, a sort of hunger in her eyes. "You know..." her voice lowered, Emma stepped closer, hidden in his shadow as she placed her hand on his chest, her own racing pulse combining with his, "I've never been with a man before...."


James placed a hand on Emma's shoulder, his voice down to the low, sexual growl it was at dinner.  "Well, I would be happy to provide you with such an experience, if you wish..."  James began to rub Emma's arm with his hand, as the other took the hand currently on his chest into his own.  He interlaced his fingers, and whispered to her: "Actually, I think that's more of an order."


Emma shivered delightfully, her eyes glinting mischievously in the moonlight. "Oh? And how do you plan to enforce this order.... Master Turner?" She teased him, the fingers laced with his gently stroking his hand with a feather-light touch.

"Well..." James let go of Emma's hand, and placed it on her waist, "...like this."  in one fluid motion, James lifted Emma up in his arms, and held her close to his body with his strong arms.  "I hope that you do not mind my forwardness.  I just felt a need for your full embrace, and this way we can still walk."  James gave Emma a warm smile, full of seduction.  "Now, My Lady... where shall we go?"

Emma blushed as he picked her up, a little thrilled at the risk of being seen by other crew members. Still smiling mischievously, and whispered in his ear, "Well, that depends.... what are you planning on doing for me?" She asked, curiously, wondering how he would respond.



James began to walk towards the cabins... in the direction of his own.  "Well, my dear.  It is not so much a question of what I am going to do for you.  It is more what I plan on doing to you."  James' lust was visible on his face, and it spread with every step.  "But if I were to answer your question, I would say that I am planning on giving you what you have been so curious about all these years at sea."


Emma nearly laughed, "I'm not a virgin, Master Turner," She informed him, her tone amused, "I simply haven't been with a man. I'm not usually attracted to them.... I suppose that makes you a special case...." Her lips curled in a smile, "Marisol will not be happy about that.... but perhaps she could join us later.... I know she enjoys some male company..."


"Well, she would certainly be welcome to join us... it would be a first for me.  And I know that ship full of boring male marine officers has kept my libido quite capped all these years.  It would be fun to rediscover my passion... especially with beauties such as yourself and Captain Pait."  James and his wench were now in the hall containing both of their rooms, where he paused, and looked down at Emma.  "Now then... your room or mine?"


Emma thought for a moment, trying to hide her evil thoughts, "My room, I think," she suggested, "As the Captain's sister, I have some... facilities that your room may not provide...." She traced a finger lightly over the curve of his jaw, just a ghostly teasing presence sure to drive him mad.


James came to a halt in front of Emma's chamber.  "Well, now I'm curious.  What facilities do you wish to use?"  James gave Emma a smirk before entering the room, and seeing exactly what she meant.

Unlike James' quaint twin-bed berth, Emma resided in a luxurious cabin filled with silks and satins from the ships world-wide explorations. And the centerpiece of the room was the four-poster bed, with head- and footboard slotted to create medium spaced bars. The entire room was swathed in pearls and golds - the bedposts d****d with delicate golden chains.

"We keep the best stuff in the boudoir table..." She purred, matching his smirk. Just the thought of the chains she'd purchased in India - meant for sensual harems or slaves - brought an excited flush to her cheeks, and she inadvertently glanced to the ceiling where the old hook was holding up d****s of golden fabric.

James was certainly taken aback at the sensual splendor of the room, and was quite eager to utilize it's facilities, as Emma had so justly put it.  He followed her gaze to the hook, and smiled darkly at his willing captive.  "Well, I must admit... I am impressed."  James set Emma down on the bed, next to the chains which now demanded his attention.  He picked up one in his hand, running his fingers over the locking shackles at the end.  "My, my... what dirty fantasies you must have."  He turned his attention back to the wench on the bed.  "Well now... let's stop wasting time and get down to it."

"Actually.... I'll be right back..." With a secretive smile Emma stood up, taking what looked like a small treasure chest from the boudoir table and skirting her way into her adjacent closet. She closed the door and quickly stripped down to her undergarments. Opening  the chest, she removed the thick yet lightweight chains from their velvet home, untangling them with on hand while the other meticulously undid the corset's simplified bindings. In just a couple of minutes, the corset slipped off, quickly replaced by the small strip of golden fabric Emma used as a breast band for these instances.

When she exited the closet just minutes later, Emma looked a different girl. Starting from her feet, golden cuffs encircled her ankles, little clips visible on either side large enough to hold links of the chain. The only fabric she wore was the breast band and a simple pair of briefs of the same golden fabric. Her wrists carried cuffs identical to those around her ankles. Around her hips was another chain, with multiple clips to adjust size or attach other chains, and one strand led up to the thick golden collar locked around her delicate neck. The collar, too, had many clips, and two strands of chain fell crisscrossing over Emma's bust, another three looped down like necklaces.

"Well then...." She looked down, demurely, though a smirk still remained on her lips.


James rose from the bed, and ran his hands over the silky material, his fingers playing across her exposed skin.  He leaned closer to her, pressing his warm body up against hers.  Her chains pressed into his skin as he leaned his face down to her neck, his hot breath heavy on her flesh.  "You certainly are a tease, Miss Jenner..."  James' lips ran over her skin with very word, his teeth scr****g her neck.  He began to give Emma small love bites on her collar, moving up through her neck to her jaw, to her cheek, and finally, to her lips.  He nibbled playfully on her lower lip, and took it into his own mouth.  He opened his lips wider to allow his expert tongue to go to work.


Emma enjoyed his touch and warmth as he caressed her, and even liked the attention on her neck, but she held back a laugh as he began to kiss her. Chuckling, she pulled his face away, "I don't kiss boys, Master Turner," she whispered. "Not on the lips, anyway," she added, under her breath, though sure he would hear, her eyelids dropping as she kissed his jaw, gently.

James smiled at her comments, especially the ones she attempted to hide under her breath.  "Alright then Miss Jenner, anywhere but the lips.  I understand completely."  James began to bite jawline, moving up her face, and finally stopping to nibble her ear.  His warm lips followed every bite as if to soothe the small pain brought by each one.  James began to whisper to Emma in between mouthfuls of her skin.  "I must say, you do know how to please a man, whether you know it or not.  But if that outfit you're wearing is any indication, I believe that those kisses of yours are dying to go lower."  James placed a hand on Emma's loose curls, and pressed lightly, guiding her lips down to his neck, collar, and finally chest.  His other hand wrapped around her waist, holding her to his body even tighter than before as his lips began to kiss to top of her head gently.

Emma hid her smile in his skin, nearly chuckling. He was such a good learner, wasn't he? Dragging her teeth down his neck, her hands worked on unbuttoning his shirt. As the shirt fell open, her mouth followed its progress, exploring his skin. She nibbled his collarbone, her tongue caressing the hollow between collarbone and shoulder as her hands ducked into his shirt, massaging his sides as she wrapped her arms around him beneath the fabric.

James began to rub his hand up and down Emma's back, slipping a finger into the back of her breast band, and pulling at it teasingly.  He loved her expert hands on his muscled sides, and her body was practically melting into his.  Her breasts were pressed against his skin, and her leg was slowly, and very slightly, curling around his.  He now ran his fingers through her hair, stopping at the base of her skull.  His grip tightened, until she was held firmly against his body.

Emma again smiled against his skin as he tightened his grip in her hair. One toe gently moved up and down the inner curve of his calf as she sucked some of his skin into her mouth, grazing her teeth along it until she was sure he'd have a mark. Her hands moved up to his shoulder blades, lifting the fabric away so that it pulled at his arms, wanting to release them.

James took the hint, and released Emma from his grasp.  He quickly slipped the shirt off over his head, exposing his chiseled torso.  He had a full body tan from going shirtless while off duty on the Marine ship, and his skin was glistening with just a slight bit of sweat.  James then stepped back to Emma, and embraced her once again.  He leaned close into her, and whispered into her ear.  "How about you return that favor for me?"

Emma smirked, "Silly boy," she teased, returning to her position with her arms stroking up and down his back, admiringly, "I'm already stripped down far more than I would any given day on the ship - you, however, are not." She kissed his chest, first in the center and then once above and below each pec, "Unless you tell me you got this tan when no one could see you?" She