FicWad

Barbossa and I circled one another, never leaving one another’s gaze. My hand went for the knife hidden in the holster around my thigh, concealed by the fabric of my tunic. He was trying to intimidate me with his icy stare. The shadows cast by the candlelight wrestled over our bodies like it was an intimate dance. We came closer to one another, and he grasped me around the waist. Like fluid, I wrapped my arms around his neck. In the background, one of Barbossa’s crewmembers was playing a tango softly on his instrument, which was called a mandola. That music, mixed with the sweet scent of rum in the air and the candlelight, made the whole situation look incredibly romantic and intimate. But if only they knew the truth. As Barbossa dipped me low, he found the knife holster on my thigh, and with a soft, sensual flick of the wrist, he pulled the knife out. With another flick, he buried it deep into the splintered wooden rail of the Black Pearl. My neck was bared, he thinking it indicated my submission to him, but he set me back on my feet, I languidly found the knife he was carrying, and threw it, it landing neatly into the mast.
“Touché,” I said; the French word merely a whisper, a caress on my lips. As my leg hooked around his, his hand smoothed over my right buttock, it discovered the small vial of poison- “poison be a woman’s weapon, Loreley, if ye haven’t the honour to kill ‘em with a sword,” he had said- attached to the inside of my leather belt. He discarded it, the small crystal vial rolling across the deck of the ship. He crushed his lips against mine, before pushing me against the mast. I had noticed the mandola player had discreetly disappeared. Barbossa hitched my legs around his waist, I unfastened his breeches. He pushed his manhood into my slick wetness, us meeting one another with a gasp of unsatisfied longing. He thrusted hard and fast into me, my head hitting the mast. I clung to it for support to match his rhythm perfectly. His cock thrummed and swelled inside my secret flesh, and I panted and moaned, whilst he grunted and groaned. We were not concerned about if anyone heard us. I had feelings for Barbossa, though I had no idea if it was love or lust. His cock was becoming fatter and fatter inside me, demanding more space. We looked deep into one another’s eyes and within his, lust and need sparkled.
“You’re cumming?” I asked in between breaths. He grunted in reply; too busy fulfilling his own desires to care. He set me down on my feet; I knelt down, wrapped my arms around his waist, and took him in my mouth. I sucked his gorged cock, his thrusts becoming harder, his hands tangling in my hair. He sent three long, strong jets of his seed into the back of my throat, I felt like choking slightly.
“Oh, Loreley!” he groaned...

I woke up the next morning in his arms. Dawn had just broke.
“Good morning, Princess,” he murmured, kissing my bare shoulder.
“Not anymore,” I mumbled, tightening the wine coloured bed coverlet around us.
“You are still in my eyes.” I rolled over and looked at the specimen of a warrior of whom I had been bedding since coming aboard the Pearl three weeks ago. I traced the muscular lines of his chest; he laid back as I straddled him, kissing his torso, my lips caressing the red curls of chest hair, the muscles, his long-fingered hands steadying me by being placed on my waist... we were interrupted by a knock on the door. Barbossa sat up, me still straddling him. He coaxed me to unwind my athlete’s legs from him, before standing up, fastening his breeches and going over to the door. Because it was most likely a crew member, I slipped Barbossa’s shirt over my naked body before settling back down on the pillows. I heard Barbossa’s footsteps, and opened one eye. As much as I tried, I could not resist my eyes being drawn to the hair around his navel. He got back into bed and began caressing my breast with his lips.
“Captain?” – I was still not at ease with calling him Hector- “what did they want?”
“We shall be at Shipwreck Cove by the time the sun sets,” he replied, looking up at me, “I suggest ye wear something a little more...suitable. Ye be a Princess, not a whore.”

I dressed in a one-shouldered dress I had made, floor length. It was Donoussan style, and I wrapped my leather belt around my waist, and the braces for my forearms on. I placed the gold coronet I had rescued during the attack on my head, and tied my sandals around my feet. Barbossa stood behind me, placing a medallion of Aztec Gold around my neck, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“Yer Majesty, Princess Loreley of Donoussa, you look beautiful.”