[CLOSED Backlog] - Birth of a Pirate Wench...
Character(s): Gaara [Red] and Tenten [Light Blue]
Date: Gaara at age 16, Tenten at age 18; Early Autumn 1658
Setting: 愛 Tavern, Trinidad
Summary: The morning after, Tenten still looks to Gaara for guidance through her grief. But the path she takes is a road neither find appealing, though necessary.
Warning(s): R/NC-17 for death, blood, seduction by fruit consumption, and limey sex scenes
It was early morning, far early that much of the rest of the island. Not many had risen to the first hint of the bright sun peaking over the horizon. The birds loud, chirping happily while the damp smell of a day just after a heavy rain fall. Gaara had found himself sitting quietly at his desk, his nose buried in a book from the night before. He had no energy to speak of when looking for something to throw on for the time being except in a pair of pants he had disregarded when Tenten had shown up. The heat hitting all the right areas of his pale exposed back and chest, the pain was minor from where those daggers she calls nails had imprinted his flawless skin with crescent moon puncture wounds.
A hand left the hard, rough cover of the old book to reach for an apple sitting in a tray to the side, also filled with other fruit's of the island freshly stocked as he wished it. A slow movement, looking far to engulfed in his reading, biting the apple to his lips for a small bite. A moment had passed of chewing before his fingers flipped the cover of the book shut to re-read the content. Something of ancient text of a pictured language written on the course, shredded brown cover. Something not of this age, perhaps something of greater value than it appeared. A nod, and then he opened it once again to the previous page, taking another small bite of his fruit at hand.
It was hard to tell how long she had been asleep, never knowing what time she had found enough courage to walk up to Gaara's door and knock or how much time had passed while she stood outside of his tavern simply watching the customers enter and leave as they willed. And there was always a distortion of time when sex was involved. What may have seemed like hours of bliss and raw passionate lust as bodies and minds melded into one exciting explosion, could very well have been less than that (though Tenten had a good feeling that Gaara was the sort that could...indulge in ones desires all night long with the right motivation). All that she could tell was that when the sun had risen high enough in the sky to peek its rays into the room and light up the darkened world hidden behind her lids, she was still naked in bed...and alone.
Sometime in the middle of the night or early morning, Gaara had left, giving her the entire bed to slumber and rest in the warm cocoon of blankets and to snuggle into the pillow that still held the lingering traces of his scent. Lashes fluttering open, her hand crept to wipe away the sleep dust from her eyes while she rolled ever slowly to her back, the sheets falling away from her chest with a satisfying stretch of her back and a light groan of relief at how wonderful that felt.
His ears had caught the faint sound of her voice, from the next room. The soft animalistic noise reminded him of a cat stretching out it's back from a long, well deserved nap. Though his thought had not wavered much from the content of his reading material when the stir of the sheets began to rustle about with her body. It was a brief moment in closing his eyes to blink when a flash of the events the night prior replayed in his head, a smile could not help but creep across his features at the wonderful bliss he had enjoyed that only she was able to give him. No other before, and none after surely she would know that, maybe no but it would remain in his own heart for as long as he could keep it there. He was still Gaara Sabaku, merciless and uncaring. He had a reputation to keep up without the compilations of having a silly emotion such as this one to cloud his mind.
His chin tilted up to the next page, as he flipped it gently careful not to damage or fray the old text.
She spent a moment simply staring up at the ceiling in thought, eyes still lazily blinking away sleep while her mind recalled the events that had brought her here to this moment. This...was the first time she had remained with a man until morning light, always sneaking out when the distraction was over with, or when whatever trinket or treasure that had brought her there in the first place was in her possession. But then again, when she had bedded with other men it was always an act of business and not of her own personal needs of lust. From the moment he had appeared in her life, Gaara had captivated her interest, firstly as a mere curiosity of a young woman still naive with dreams of grandeur, and later on developing into more of an adult mindset. What did it mean to know that only his touch could make her feel this way, make her feel this need she had seen in so many other girls who had made sex their life? What did it mean when she remembered every moment they spent together, every word, every breath, every touch?
With a quiet sigh, she settled on just not knowing and left it at that, finally sitting up from the bed and gathering the sheets around her small frame before touching her feet on the cold floor. The soft patter of her footsteps were barely heard, though in a home that existed in such silence they seemed disturbingly loud, breaking through the tranquility as she stopped at the door and wordlessly peeked into the next room where he sat.
His pale eyes lifted, nearly tearing away from the pages of the book to the sound of her light footsteps pattering over the wooden floor. His ears twitched as the sound had stopped suddenly and his eyes drew to the stunning goddess to which was draping herself in his sheets. His jaw drop at the sight, he hadn't known for sure if it was the way the sun hit her features in such a way she almost shone to make even the most beautiful jealous, his eyes squinted just a little to regain focused to the gleam from the white fabric that contrasted perfectly with her skin color. Or just the swell in his chest that he was able to look at the one woman who had even come close to getting into his life on an intimate level was that much more stunning when she had woke up after him. His face remained slightly usual blank as it normally was, though with a hint of awe.
Closing the book over placing it aside slowly, and he found himself leaning back in the wooden chair with a single digit grazing over his bottom lip, as if it helped him grasp a better view.
"Your still here, I'm amazed." He stated bluntly, but clearly meant as a sad joke. "Are you going to make off with my sheets this time?"
For a brief moment before all his attention had gone to her, Gaara seemed almost content with sitting quietly at his desk, seagreen eyes scanning through the pages of the book in his hand. It was an image she found...odd, as if it never occurred to her that one in their position could indulge in such innocent and calm recreational acts despite knowing how much he had enjoyed the written world as a child when they had first met. Tenten herself had devoted her spare time (rare as it may have been) to doing the same as well. She nearly snickered at his comment though, remembering the manner in which she had left his company after their last encounter. Really, was he so attached to that jacket as to hold a grudge against her for taking it, especially when he had left her little other choice in the matter when he impulsively ripped her own shirt to shreds? However, she suspected he was only joking at the matter and decided to toy with it as well, giving a slight gesture of her hand to add to the sarcasm. "Well...these are rather nice sheets."
In turn, her head tilted to the side in thought at his first statement, though more playful than contemplative over what he might have been implying with it, her brown eyes taking on a look of calm skepticism. Keeping one hand grasped around the ends of the sheet covering her lithe form, she rested the other at the curve of her hip, shifting her weight more on one leg with an easy sway of her body. "Would you have rather I left upon waking or that I had left during the night like last time? The way you were holding on to me last night said other wise."
Her statement poised an even further frown over his face. His dark lids narrowed over soft aquamarine, meeting light brow ones, a tilt in his head as he scoffed. But honestly he had no rebuttal for it, he had one for everything... But this...he was stumbling over thoughts in his head and came up with absolutely nothing. His lips pressed together in annoyance lifting an arm to flick her towards him as if to by him more time to think.
"I tend to cling to the warmest thing next to me, don't fatter yourself... To much." His glare remained hard and cold, though in his own mind, locked away from her teasing words, it was only meant half hearted. "You would know that if you stayed last time."
He shifted in his chair, the fingers dropping from his lips reaching back for the half eaten apple to the side of his desk. He gestured for her to have what she wished, fruit from this island was far different from others, they tend to have a sweet flavor of the natural sugar. The sun-kissed lemons far more sour than any he had ever tasted yet still delicious none the less.
"Have what you want, it's yours." His eyes followed her moments, hypnotized by the gentle sway of her hips, the way her bare leg peak through the part in the sheets were pulled together with her hand. Just the sight of her now, was causing his blood rush to the southern regions below his waist. Eyes slowly closed over in a blink catching a swift image of last night events, making the shift in his pants grow tighter.
"Oh, but if I do not flatter myself, who will?" She was being coy, and perhaps unnecessarily so, but it was how she had been programmed to function around men, and such habitual things were hard to diverge from, even around someone like Gaara. With an easy and effortless move of her hand, she brushed aside a few strands of hair from her eyes and stepped into the room, the tail end of the sheets sweeping along the ground as she walked. The move was pointless as the locks fell back into place to give a light shadow over one eye, but it was productive at the very least and gave her hand something else to do besides retain what little modesty was still left to her. "And I couldn't very well stay last time. My ship was scheduled to leave in the morning and I preferred not to board the ship lacking a shirt for the entire crew to see."
Tenten wasn't sure the reason why she felt the need to explain that to him, as if she had to explain anything at all. There was never a need for it before and many others would have simply shrugged at her disappearance, never to think of her again. But then again, that was perhaps the difference. While the other men were faceless bodies that faded from her memory as quickly as she did from their beds, he was somewhat of a constant in her life, though their meetings were always erratic and unpredictable (but she supposed that was part of its charm). And where most other men in her life only viewed her worth by what laid between her legs, he seemed to hold a different opinion, unless she was simply seeing some naive ideal of his persona in her mind.
Gliding to the far corner of his desk, she reached out a hand and plucked up an orange from the tray of fruit placed on his desk and proceeded to peel off the skin in smooth and easy motions, arms held firmly at her side to keep the sheets in place despite Gaara having already seen every curve of her body. There were some scars and some injuries that were easily concealed in the shadows of the night and the light of the candles. And now with dawn long past and the day in full swing, Tenten felt the need to keep them that way if she could manage it.
He watched, his eyes finding it hard to rip his gaze from the perfect curves of her hips, tightly wrapped up like a present. Her voice smooth and sweet like the morning sun adding to the rising need to have her once again. The thoughts passing through his thoughts of pushing her back against his desk in the heat of his usual morning erection that seemed much more intense the longer she leaned against his desk idly pealing at the orange she had chosen for breakfast.
"You have seduced many before me, and more to come after." He stated leaning forward in his chair, his hand grazed along the dips and folds of the tapered sheets, feeling around to where he thought the curves of her waist was hidden beneath. The thought annoyed him greatly for something that he as not usual to care much for, the pleasurable company of woman was not rare in the young redheads life, ever since he had become captain at the young age of 14 (about to turn 15), a year after he had first met her. It was after that time that he had first laid with a woman who offered herself up as a payment for her release, of which he gladly took, discarding her at he nearest port in Tortuga, having a taste for it ever since. Even now at 16, things were no different if not worse when woman young and old came to him seeking to offer him pleasure just for reasons completely unknown. But this one, seemed to have quite the hold on his mind and body. He wondered if there would ever come a point in his life where this, a woman such as this, would cause his heart to skip, even if only once, to have the need to want to see her whenever he wished.
The folds of the light sheets were parted at her leg but his hands, finding his palm flat against her thigh grazing it over her tender flesh in a gentle stoke. His eyes remained in contact with hers where she had ended towering over him while he sat. Both hands now, wondering in hopes of discovering some secret he might have missed the previous times before.
"Is that such a surprise?" Her hands remained where they were in her lap, continuing the motion of peeling away the skin of the orange and disregarding it into a small pile on the desk beside where she rested, shifting a bit so she was more sitting rather than leaning. The tips of her hair brushed and swayed against her wrists, her thumbs, with every move she made, nothing more than long streams of liquid night effectively accented in natural brown hues that gave her a more exotic look that was not often seen in this part of the world, if ever. And as thin fingers gently worked to pry out a section of the orange from it's casing, a section of those flowing locks swept over her shoulder, obscuring the delicate curve of her cheek even more while she spoke. "If men refuse to see me as nothing more than a means to fulfill their desires, I might as well use it to my advantage. Few women have any other choice."
And she believed her words, practiced them with years of care and experience which supported the theory she preached. It had been her life for so long, ever since the first time she had offered to distract a young naval captain in some far away country in the Caspian Sea. He had held the key to a safe that contained the map to one of the great Indian treasures of the Eastern World and every other attempt had proved futile. Her father had been adamant against it as is expected of most fathers, but by the time he had discovered her plan it had been too late to retain what innocence was left to her. It had not been as life changing or traumatic as she thought, simply a lingering dullness of her senses as Tenten struggled to understand why other women seemed so horrified with such acts. There had been a problem and through those means she had solved it. What was so terrifying about that?
But as his hands roamed over the slope of her thigh, the sheet falling inch by inch with his exploration, she had to wonder if perhaps there was simply more to it that she did not understand at the time, and maybe still did not understand. With the way his hands could cause such a beat of her heart unlike no other she had been with, the way his eyes captivated her attention, Tenten could not help think that perhaps there might still be hope for her to learn those untold lessons that had been hidden from her.
Finally managing to break free a section of the orange, she brought the thin slice to her lips and bit off half, finding the juices very sweet and delicious.
His eyes could not part from her lips, as hard as he tried, her slow chew of her jaw was nearly hypnotize as the sweet smell of the orange began to fill the air with a strong scent. The way her long hair hung over her shoulder, the light of the sun passing through it almost making it look lighter in shade was captivating. Her exposed thigh under his hands smooth and soft, he ignored the small bruises and cuts as they were not of much importance as the whole picture was. His heart could not help but forget to beat, skipping once or twice in a cycle, his breath taken from him at this very simple but unique woman who had managed to wedge her way unknowingly in his life.
A soft hand feathered over her, the sheets spreading even more as he shifted his weight against her to have her stand between his legs. His back found the comfort of the chair relaxing and the view quite enjoyable for the most part, she remind him of a woman portrayed in his books of ancient text from Greece and Egypt. Aside from the lighter shade of her hair the crisp rays had turned it, she could pass as one described, an enchantress from the oldest myths, a goddess of love and beauty only to use her gifted to lour and demolish anything and anyone in her path. This, this is was truly what attracted him to her, this was why he could not get enough the power she held over one of the most ruthless in their world, to reduce him to this... She did not fear him, which was why he had the want to have her time and time again. Someone who would present a challenge, to rebuttal him without fear.... She was different.
He reached lifting his back from the chair, his fingers pealing back a small slice from the orange in her hand. A slight tilt, he never really liked oranges but the smell was powerful filling his nose with the most wonderful sweet tinge. Putting the entire thing his mouth the sudden burst of flavor tickled his taste buds, a nod of agreeing to himself before leaning forward again. Either of his hands wrapped around each side of the toga tugging it lightly allowing it to fall to the floor. Now this was more like it.
Even her thin and small frame seemed towering from where he sat in his seat, placing him at perfect eye level with one of the more...enticing assets of her body as the sheets fell away, landing with a cool and almost soundless rustle to the floor. Most other women would have recoiled from being so exposed, but she had the comfort of knowing that there was not much of her that the young captain had not seen of yet. And there was still more to discover of the raid written all over her body, if he knew where to look. Though, she seemed more concerned with what was left of the orange clutched in her hands, finishing the last of her first piece without a word while jaded eyes roamed over the familiar curves of her form.
Of her last trip to the Caribbean, the taste and smell of oranges had been one of the more prominent memories she held. Such sweet nectar was not common in the part of the world where she was from, though Singapore had it's own variety of delectable foods of nature. But Tenten had found a liking to it and had craved to have the flavor flood her mouth ever since their ship had reached Atlantic waters, which was why she gave a small pout when the young Gaara had taken a section from her hand for himself. It was a sin and a travesty to take from her what was so rarely a given joy in her life, punishable to the highest degree in a thousand different ways that were currently flashing through her mind. But she knew from experience that he had a high threshold for pain, occasionally reveling in it. So there would be a different brand of torture to be served today. If he wished to have the fruit, he was more than welcome to it. But it would come at a price.
She smiled innocently down at him while bringing what remained of the orange to her lips, parting them to work off another section of the fresh fruit with her tongue in plain view. And with her sweet brown eyes trained on him, Tenten watched and waited to see how he would react to the scene, how ever so delicately she pried off a piece of the orange and slowly let it slide into her mouth, chewing with little thought as she had done before. And as if to add insult to injury, she held out her hand to offer another piece to him, bewitching smile still in place to boil at his pride.
It was a blank stare really, that hid with truly brewed in the far corners of his sexually over developed mind at the sight of her. Even now as the white sheets tapered to the floor in a pool of piled fabric gracefully around her feet. The juices from the orange giving a light spray as she bit into the wedge slipping it into her mouth in a rather suggestive manner.
His lean took farther, a finger grazing idly over his chin remaining in his usual flat stare, his pale aquamarine eyes seemed almost white with the slightest hint of green in this light as he scanned over her exposed flesh, enjoying the sensual curves of her hips, that sloped into her well formed legs. Vision dropping to the extended orange she had offered up. Hesitating he leaned forward pealing a little more from the half and brining it to his lips. He cocked a nonexistent eyebrow as he had no indication of where this kind gesture of hers would leave him. He had read of Sirens in his books of ancient Greece, women of the greatest beauty using their song to lure the weak hearted into a mass of bloody deaths among the rocks of shallow waters, perhaps her tactics were similar. He would need to keep his guard at a high, even though he found it hard to concentrate on anything else but the soft rise and fall of her chest, her breasts moving rhythmically with every inhale, exhale. How she ate the rest of that orange with some sort of hidden meaning he was yet to discover.
All the while unable to ignore the grossly swelling bulge building in his pants, awaiting for release from the fabric prison it was locked away in. It was begging to feel unbearable in the mess of restriction as even the very tip of him found hard and peaking from the waist band from where he sat slightly slouched. Shifting to a more comfortable position, in hopes of taming, controlling his body but with great difficulty as it appeared to make things more visible.
In a slow blink that let her lashes fan out across her cheeks for a brief moment, giving just the slightest attention to her sharp and exotically Asian eyes, she watched curiously while he shifted in his chair, popping another section of the orange into her mouth and letting her finger linger in between her lips just long enough to give a quiet smack when she pulled it out. And then came the faintest of smirks when she caught the obvious bulge between his legs, settling back against his desk in a half sit half leaning position once more. It was clear that she was enjoying this, finding amusement in teasing Gaara to see just how far his limits were and feeling an element of excitement in wondering just when his self control would snap back at her efforts. The prospect of his wrath or whatever consequences that would come of his frustrations was something that excited her like nothing else in the world save for her own freedom.
So to continue her twisted game she wiped at a small trickle of juice the orange wedge had left behind with her thumb and proceeded to eat away at the fruit without hesitation, letting the light of the morning play along her slopes and curves while she shifted her body every so often, so mockingly innocent. And as an idle afterthought, she brought the small dribble to her lips and proceeded to drag the tip of her tongue across the pad of her thumb before continuing, nimbly stripping off the last of the skin so that they could twirl the final section of the orange between the pads of her fingers. And then those wondrous eyes locked with his, twinkling in a wordless question that seemed to ask 'would you like another taste' while being completely vague on whether she was referring to the orange or herself.
And twisted game it was, Gaara had never believe during the course of eating breakfast could turn into something as sensual and erotic as this. She was clearly an expert at visually pleasing men, having done it to get by in this life they both lived. But he, just took what he wished while she played with her meat until she felt it right to finish them off. She was like a cat with a ball of yarn, playing and pawing at it teasingly because she could, because the all of yarn could not fight back. The seductive way her lips had suctioned against a slice of fruit suggested her game had barely begun.
A nod of is head indicating yes to her offer. His shift forward once again extending his arm to the orange for another small piece, pale eyes slid over the dips and curves of her body until meeting almond eyes with his own uniquely shaped and colored ones. It was something of an odd feature on the young captain as many things, he'd seen no other with the same hollow shade as he had remembered his fathers were black as the night when they weren't lit in a fiery-red shade when he had come about looking for his son to satisfy his need for manly boost of his ego. Gaara's mother, he had not known what she was like, let alone what she looked like...He Would have liked to believe she was a wonderful, beautiful woman....but His short life had no time to think of such things when survival was number one.
Leaning back against the chair, he watched her even more intensely as before, to enjoy the playful game she had planned. The mischievous glint she had sparkle in her eye, would have been down right nerve racking for most, but Gaara allowed her to play it out for as long as he could control his need to take her and plant his seed in her for the fourth time. Uncaring of what would happen of the consequences of his lustful actions all that was cared was his own pleasure was satisfied. With having women come to him on more occasions the young man could count with news of a child that was to be his. A scoff and turned away at the door was a usual reaction from the red head, the thought of bedding woman and not taking responsibility for the outcome was something that had not concerned him. Which was in the same instance now, all that mattered was the visual and pleasurable company of this little eastern rose that had fell into his lap.
"It's almost gone." He stated bluntly pointing out the final wedge that was left.
Stimulating and entertaining a man's attention was hardly as difficult as most thought. The majority of the battle had already been won the moment she had walked into the room in the provocative manner, already poised to inspire his imagination and desire with her lack of clothing. The real test was to push him in just the right way with just the right force to make it seem completely his idea, though with this round of foreplay she was being less discreet than usual. A thin brow arched curiously while the slant of her eyes easily slid to regard the orange wedge in her fingers, the tone of her voice ever so innocent and yet still holding a hint of amusement for what all this was obviously doing to him. "Hm...so it would seem."
And just as easily, all attention was back on him, her head tilting just so to let the fall of her hair glide over her shoulder once more while she watched his wonderfully light aquagreen eyes shift in such a way that told of his...want of the last piece of the orange, and so much more, that if it did not go to him, there would be consequences. But she had a solution to this small dilemma, one that she had been working towards ever since he had stolen his first piece from her.
Resting herself more on the desktop and leaning back a bit for leverage, using a hand for support, she stretched out her legs coolly and swiftly, hooking her feet to the arms of the chair he sat in and giving him a streamline view of her crevice, lower lips already glistening with her feminine juices and with what remained of their activities the previous night. And with no warning, she pulled him in closer with the strength of her limbs in one smooth motion. Once in range, the young woman placed the last bit of fruit in her mouth and leaned forward, resting a foot in his chair right between Gaara's own legs and just barely brushing her toe along his bulge. Oddly balanced on the edge of the desk, she used the armrests for extra support while offering up the part of the orange wedge sticking out of her lips, enticing him with all the suggestive visuals that she could.
His apparent grin had dropped in an almost airy look, his jaw dropped at the faint brush of her toe and eyes unable to tear away from her current exposed position. He hadn't known how or when he had ended up on this end of the predator scale, all he knew that she was in control for the most part until he deemed it the proper time to throw his authority again. Such an amazing woman, not only in her seductive tactics, she was also quite smart in more ways than he could imagine, someone to truly match his own. She was beautiful, of course, obviously she had already known that and was no secret that she had been complimented on. But being who he was, Gaara refused to give her that small piece of information for fear of her ego getting larger than his, instead he pressed his jaw shut once again as his light aqua orbs found her lighter brown ones in an intense stare contest.
She was offering him half of her final piece, deviating in his own mind to take up the offer or not. His decision was swiftly made when a hand darted out swiftly grasping her upper arm, with a slight shake he eased her forward when his mouth found his half of the remaining fruit. The burst of sweet juices was only intensified while having Tenten attached to the other half. As he brushed the piece to the side pressing his tongue past her lips in a long awaited kiss. His moan was of pure satisfaction, pleased with the combined flavors sloshing in his mouth, tongue coiling around her half and scooping it from her in a swift move. Pulling himself away, swallowing back to rid of the obstructions occupying and distracting him from the task at hand. Lips greeting hers again in a mindless dance of domination, his own game that he always ended to be the victor.
Though the pleasure of finishing off the orange was not hers, there was a more interesting game in play now. Even while her lips fixed in a sad pout for the loss of the delicious citrus flavor of the fruit, there was another plan twirling around in her mind. There were many uncertainties in life, more so for that of a pirate who lived on adventure and danger. For that, a mind had to be quick to adjust to any and all surprises that laid on the horizon. She had learned long ago that without this quality, a plan could just as easily fail as it did succeed. And when the lives of countless others rested on your shoulders, it was enough motivation to learn the game quickly and effectively. However, there was something to be said about applying these skills in a more amusing manner. It was a thin line between business and pleasure as small as the razor sharp point of a blade, and she was tip-toeing along it with all the thrill and excitement that such dangers usually brought.
A man with enough alcohol in his system, she was quick to learn, was never particular about who he bedded in the drunken fog of the night. And a man was always receptive to a young lady who was willing to grace him with her company. Even Gaara, who she knew firstly as a distant young lad who grew up to be a cruel and formidable captain of his crew, had proven such. It was no secret to her that he would bed any woman who offered herself up to him willingly, and understood that part of human nature within men, though it made her question why he would choose to fight for so hard a prize as herself when he could easily have a dozen others instead. Full and luscious lips curved against his in a small smirk at the notion that perhaps the challenge was part of her allure, and if so then this would be an interesting war, indeed.
Leaning in more, she slowly eased off of his desk and advanced forward with the grace and smoothness of a tigress on the prowl, circling around her prey just as her lips circled around his in a temptatious dance. Sliding her thighs over his into the chair that seemed almost too small to hold the both of them, surprisingly settling into his lap (and conveniently against his bulge) with ease, she kissed him back with a drive and passion that could contest any other, swirling her tongue around in his mouth in exploration to gather up all that remained of the orange wedge while at the same time overwhelming his senses.
It was as he thought, just like a cat on the hunt for excitement... Growing braver by every passing moment she spent in his company. A deep growl in response to her mount, finding him still at a shorter height against her. But still, giving in to his natural needs as a man his arms coiled around her bare waist, finger tips sliding over the deep crease of her spine. His strokes, easy and soft against tender flesh as he figured the night before when she had come to him her body was not in all shape to take any aggressive behavior from him. But finding it hard to hold back his urges as they were swelling to an unimaginable size, still in the confinements of his pants.
His lips pattered around her aimlessly, the flash of erotic thoughts of her small frame impaled onto his in the comfort of this chair had sent a shooting tingle, his peek was reaching and his annalistic need was going to take over, as it always done. Never failing in the past, this is no different... Or was it? He inwardly pondered the thought of finally.... No... He not dare think such a thing. But to have this.. Woman sneak so far into his personal world and have his mind cloud with nothing but thoughts of her at his side, was beyond comprehension. Especially when he found his limbs taking on a mind of their own, and doing pleasing things for her benefit without thinking twice if he would actually get something from it. But in the end, he always gotten what he wanted...this was diffidently at the top of his list of things the young man desired.
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It was what seemed like hours of lovemaking that their world had suddenly stopped to a light creek that filed the room like a monstrous thunder storm. The echo rang loud in his ears as the sound caused him to halt in his action and shoot a glare in the direction it was coming from. His eyes grew wide, his face remained as flat as usual... But clearly the anger had began a light growl in his chest.
"Captain Gaa..." A middle aged sailor Gaara had not cared to know. The only thing known of this man was that he had the nerve to walk in without asking, and now his prying, filthy eyes were feeding on what was his, the naked woman sprawled over his desk with her legs draped around him. It probably would have been a rather pleasing sight to most men, if the man in charge was not Gaara Sabaku giving his all too famous death stares before death was to follow at the young man's hands. If it would have been with any other woman that fire of hate burning in the core of stomach would not be inflamed so harshly... But as it stood, his jaw clenched, blinking a few times to clear his mind of he foggy mess she had taken him to.
She was still sprawled out over the desktop and panting for air when he stopped, all attention both his and hers turning towards the creek of the door and the intruder who DARED interrupt them in the middle of this, to stop the blissful pleasure of their union with their unwanted presence. Straining not to whimper at the loss of movement from his throbbing length, still seated deep inside of her and stretching out her passage with it's thickness, she sent sharp daggers towards their guest in her glance, riddled and filled with elaborate curses and damnation in a foreign tongue he most likely could not even begin to comprehend. And if that was not enough insult, the aging man seemed to be staring at her body, something that had only been meant for Gaara's beautiful aquagreen eyes to see.
It would be a stupid notion to deny that men found her attractive or at the very least pleasing to watch. Countless numbers of them had already fallen to her charms and she was sure that there would be more to come. But the way his seem to linger on every curve and slope of her body as if to memorize it, reserving the image for lonely days to come while out on the open sea during their hunts, with little regard to the other two in the room only angered her. The movements they made, the heated kisses, the strained breaths, the gentle sway and hard thrusts, were like a sacred ritual of their bodies and their souls, precious and only reserved for the divine to witness the full greatness of the union. Any who dared disrupt that would be punished. And HE was unworthy.
Slowly she sat up from the table so that the at least her most prominent assets were hidden from the sailor's wandering eyes, all the while the pirate wench glared at him from behind the falls of her hair, giving her expression a much more intimidating and deadly gleam in the morning light. The hand that was not pressed against the table for support slowly crept up along Gaara's chest to hook over his shoulder, almost possessively, as if it was HIS body that was being violated and not hers, brown eyes finally turning to meet with seagreen, making a wordless comment in an unspoken conversation that they both understood instantly.
His hard glare had never left the man, even when he seemed to wonder aimlessly over the body that was his. His deep trance only broken by the slink of her arm draping around him, the touch sending somewhat of a signal, but he knew upon his intrusion what he planned to do to those who walk in unannounced. He withdrew himself from the warmth of her passage, and with moves swift like the hunter he was moving around the desk in his nakedness striding toward the victim to come.
The wide eyed look on the mans face grew to realization what he had done, with flick of his head from side to side 'no' as a lame attempt to spare his own life, but his doom was sealed the moment the door clicked open and took his first glance inside. Reaching out as he walked, Gaara pulled a sword from his holster slung from a hook, ready to be strapped to the boy's waist once ready for the day lay dormant until this moment when the sharp edge scrapped along the casing.
A hard, forceful swing almost looked effortless as the stunned shocked expression froze on the now beheaded man of the accused, the spray of blood sprinkled against the young man's cheek, his flat stare unwavering pale eyes watching as the brainless head fell to the floor. The blade remained impaled in the side of the door frame with the area splashed with a brilliant shade of crimson, the body remained standing for moments until buckling to it's knees and joining the head on the floor. A flame of satisfaction infused with the still growing arousal only increased the matters as the blood began to pool at his feet.
Licking his lips, a wide demented smile painted his boyish features as he made his way back to the prize that awaited him.
Her eyes had fluttered close at his withdrawal, her walls clenching in protest at the loss of the heat and sweet sensation brushing along her passage. But she stifled all verbal protest with a simple bit of her lip, only letting a small grunt to escape before he was on the move. And she watched with interest and perhaps some sick pleasure at the prospect of what would happen, of what Gaara had planned. His eyes that had always seemed to glow against the dark circles of his lids seemed brighter still while he stalked towards his foolish prey and she felt a thrill of seeing the glint of the sword as it slipped easily and almost soundlessly from it's sheath. But then again, anything with a sharp edge had always had that effect on her ever since she had received her first knife at the young age of five.
The paper-thin blade sliced through skin and bone so effortlessly in her eyes, only creating a small slosh when it cut through the muscle and flesh before ending with a solid thud against the wooden door. And the blood fanned out so beautifully as if he were an artist and the wall was his canvas. The coppery scent, the sight of the fresh corpse laying motionless at is feet while blood continued to pool and collect around him...the intensity of the moment could only be matched with the beating of her heart. And she watched hungrily as Gaara made his way back to her, covered with droplets of the sailor's blood that speckled his cheek.
When he was within reach of her fingers again, she gently slid her palms along his chest, making streaks of red from the beads of blood that were there, and leaned in to lick off a few specks from his cheek, wrapping her arms around him while ever moving her lips closer towards his ear. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a bit jealous..."
Nothing followed in response to her statement but a deep grunt of annoyance. His eye followed as she suckled the crimson liquid from her fingers, causing a slight pick up in her heart rate. Her response to the event was cool and calm almost as if she enjoyed every moment of the show. With that knowledge it cause a heart wrench of something pure, something he had not felt before an ache in his chest where his heart still beating a steady rhythm. It was an odd feeling considering murder and death was really something Gaara was not phased by, it was easy and gave somewhat of glorified satisfaction of knowing he was feared among all others. His thirst for the soft tear of skin, the gushing blood from main arteries managing to slice through with the greatest of ease, had become easier with each life taken by his own hand.
It was an urge of need when he dove forward aggressively gasping her lips, mashing them with his a snarl forming in the hollow of his chest of need. She would be his, she would remain his for as long as he could hang on and determine in his own mind what this foreign feeling was invading his senses whenever she was around. The dominance began to override once again placing hands on ether side of her upper arms and forcing her back to the desk. An impish smirk, with the acceleration of adrenalin from both the arousal of having her for himself and the deep pool of blood filling the room with it's iron scent, a shudder of excitement as pale eyes grew wide and the uncontrolled thrust forward sent him back deep into the womb of his woman. A blood painted hand reached out grasping around her jaw turning her head to the side to examine the perfection that was under his thumb, that belonged to him in many ways… Claiming her like she was an object of affection did no bother the young Captain as that was how it was when the life of his torment ended, whatever Gaara wanted, Gaara received.
==================
The most wonderful, and happy moments flashed through his mind upon this delicious climax. He was... Happy, and this woman was able to bring when he had to offer to the surface of the table. He would protect her, keep her safe from all whom dared to harm her for they would pay with their lives if even looking in her direction the wrong way. He would keep her for his own, for as long as he needed to hold onto this.... Feeling she passed to him every time they had met.
His weak body slumped against hers, knees buckling to accommodate the difference in height laying his cheek flush against her heaving chest. The blood that painted his body, melting away with the layer of sweat that coated his body, the mixture of both smeared effortlessly over her yellow skin.
For all purpose and urges, she would have returned the sentiments of his foreign words had she possessed the strength of will or coherent thought to form something of worth. Words were never her specialty, especially in the heat of passion, if ever she felt something this strongly for another soul in the world. As it was, this concept of love or this feeling that seemed a close representation of that emotion was blindingly and exotically new to her, shining brightly with the hot light of moving bodies, burning souls, and scorching sentiments that went beyond earthly words. She spoke with her body where the words would not come, gripping around his back harder, squeezing her thighs around his hip, clencing around his length as her back arched against the desktop, mouth opened in a silent cry of her own release right at the start of his.
And together they crossed the lines between this plane and the next to some place higher where perhaps they would get their endless possibilities, where such things as love and emotions were never questioned but understood, where all that mattered were her nails scraping over the curve of his hips, the heat of his body surrounding her when it was all over and they fell back against the hard truth of reality.
Her body was too wracked with the bliss, arms moving to cradle his head against into the valley of her breasts to care what would happen after this, because she knew she could not stay with him forever, though it was sorely tempting. She still had business to take care of and could not complete them from here. He had served his purpose and so much more by making her forget. But he had made her remember as well, remember the person she was and the person she had to become in her father's absence.
Thin fingers toyed with the locks of his hair, weighted down by the sweat covering their body, and she wondered just how she would free herself from this hold he held over her, because indeed his spell had brought her here and had kept her here for this long, welcomed as it was.
His breath heavy, his words at a loss for lack of energy hearing the steady rhythmic beat of her fast paced heart tumbling like a loud drum beneath the bone cage that protected it. She had never looked or felt so beautiful, the light gleam of the sweat kissing her skin as the morning sun glossed over, or the paint of crimson which had transferred from him to her in the heat of their passion. Either way, his weakness was over taking his mind, fatigue crept back to the joints and limbs of his body unable to move from this spot she had froze him in. His forehead lowered to the wooded surface of the desk between her shoulder and neck with a gentle thud, bouncing lightly a few times as if to shake his mind into sense once lost.
"Get clean." he stated groggily. "....and dress. I will have someone come and clean this... Mess..." Meaning the still gushing body that had fell upon his curious enter. Hand planted firmly on the desk at her other side pushing himself from his lazy position. Staying just a moment to take in the gorgeous sight that was her, a woman to take his heart, and his breath all in one meeting. To be such a wondrous being for doing a thing to one with a reputation for someone whom felt nothing in the care for others, to kill whenever he felt... This woman softened his heart, eased his soul, snuffed out the pain of his past.
"I'll be back." With his final thoughts reaching down to pull on the pants that had dropped around his feet in a clumsy pool, and disappearing from her sight out the door. His words came to him as natural as barking out orders to his crew...his Demands were always met from man or woman who had given themselves to him, weather in labor or in the bedroom.
Thin arms sun-kissed by the summer rays slipped away from his body as he rose, leaving the warm comfort that she provided for the duty that called to the both of them. He was a captain of a pirate crew and she belonged to what remained of her father's band of miscreants, scattered and lost as they were. But she could only look up at him with a gentle smile as their eyes locked for what she believed would be the last time, reaching up to brush her knuckles over his cheek one last time. After all, she was not a woman of the Caribbean, but the South Pacific Sea and the lands of her ancestors. She did not belong here. Perhaps she did not belong anywhere.
She shuffled to rest on her elbows, still stretched out over the top of his desk, strands of hair slipping ever so gently over the curve of her shoulder to create an all too appealing image for the young Trinidad captain though unintentional on her part. And she wordlessly watched him leave the room after giving his orders, still shirtless but satisfied with their morning romp nonetheless. Yes, he would be back, but she would not be there when he did. Her father's corpse was still hanging in the port as a warning to all pirates, dishonored and disgraced, denied the burial at sea that he deserved. And if not she, then who else would have the courage to cut him down and free his soul?
Her eyes stayed at the empty doorway where he disappeared to for only a moment longer before she slid off of the desk and left into the other room to wash off the blood and gather her things. The dress from last night was dry now and would still provide good cover for walking about in broad daylight. Never growing up with a support of women to help her, she easily tugged on the flowing gown with little trouble and began searching for another means of escape. To leave by the front door was a bold concept but a stupid one. She would be easily seen and he would stop at nothing to keep her. And then her salvation came in the form of a window overlooking a side street next to the tavern, a bit small but still big enough to allow her to slip through, nothing out of the ordinary for her. At the last moment, as if as an afterthought, she reached out and grabbed his black jacket from the floor where he had discarded it the night before, whispering one wordless goodbye to the young Captain and vanishing from sight.
Moments after her unknown departure Gaara had found himself a sucker to discard the decapitated body of the poor soul who dared emplace his eyes, visually feeding on what was his. He smirked against his thoughts of the easy slice through bone and flesh had felt against his hands, swift and soundless as he had learned through countless times of holding another life in his grasp. And now, there was another life in his hands, this one to protect, shelter and love? He shook his head from the demented thoughts of such an emotion that he had never known, did she feel the same way? Confused? Lost? It did not matter to him, the only thing was he had found something worth of more value than any amount of rum, the most precious gold, the deepest treasures in the world he knew.
Icy, aquamarine eyes lifted as he entered the room, taking a step past the mangled body about to be removed. He studied the room a moment, an empty feeling swept over him, the sun sweet appearing through the windows still tainted the air with a light musky from the heated sex from their passionate union lingered like dust partials. It was quiet, too quiet for a woman like Tenten... His pause took him to the center of the cluttered room, filled with ancient text, scrolls, treasures and riches, weapons from different ages and makes to maps and export papers for the underground rum business his father left behind. But there was... No Tenten.... His jaw clenched at the though racing through his mind... His stride took him past the desk still laced with memories to the bed room from the night before...
Each hand placed on either side of the door frame, his knuckles turning white with anger, in final realization... Noting a light shimmer of something under his pillow, he advanced with a heavy foot of frustration and chucked the pillow from his way to find a blade, entwined with a dragon, and a note placed under. The parchment crumpled in his hand, the heat rising to his face bearing his teeth like a wild animal ready to snap. Making his way back to the half filled tub of now cold water....where He left his discarded cloths the night before, only to find his....
"MY FUCKING JACKET!" He growled, more importantly she left so soundly, stealthy without a word. He threw the paper ball to the calm water of the tub frantically finding something to wear at an attempt to catch her near the docks..."Fucking bitch..." He snarled again and again, sailors, brothel woman, citizens in general steering clear of the obviously passed off red head, on a rampage killing anything and anyone who dared asked what was wrong.
Date: Gaara at age 16, Tenten at age 18; Early Autumn 1658
Setting: 愛 Tavern, Trinidad
Summary: The morning after, Tenten still looks to Gaara for guidance through her grief. But the path she takes is a road neither find appealing, though necessary.
Warning(s): R/NC-17 for death, blood, seduction by fruit consumption, and limey sex scenes
It was early morning, far early that much of the rest of the island. Not many had risen to the first hint of the bright sun peaking over the horizon. The birds loud, chirping happily while the damp smell of a day just after a heavy rain fall. Gaara had found himself sitting quietly at his desk, his nose buried in a book from the night before. He had no energy to speak of when looking for something to throw on for the time being except in a pair of pants he had disregarded when Tenten had shown up. The heat hitting all the right areas of his pale exposed back and chest, the pain was minor from where those daggers she calls nails had imprinted his flawless skin with crescent moon puncture wounds.
A hand left the hard, rough cover of the old book to reach for an apple sitting in a tray to the side, also filled with other fruit's of the island freshly stocked as he wished it. A slow movement, looking far to engulfed in his reading, biting the apple to his lips for a small bite. A moment had passed of chewing before his fingers flipped the cover of the book shut to re-read the content. Something of ancient text of a pictured language written on the course, shredded brown cover. Something not of this age, perhaps something of greater value than it appeared. A nod, and then he opened it once again to the previous page, taking another small bite of his fruit at hand.
It was hard to tell how long she had been asleep, never knowing what time she had found enough courage to walk up to Gaara's door and knock or how much time had passed while she stood outside of his tavern simply watching the customers enter and leave as they willed. And there was always a distortion of time when sex was involved. What may have seemed like hours of bliss and raw passionate lust as bodies and minds melded into one exciting explosion, could very well have been less than that (though Tenten had a good feeling that Gaara was the sort that could...indulge in ones desires all night long with the right motivation). All that she could tell was that when the sun had risen high enough in the sky to peek its rays into the room and light up the darkened world hidden behind her lids, she was still naked in bed...and alone.
Sometime in the middle of the night or early morning, Gaara had left, giving her the entire bed to slumber and rest in the warm cocoon of blankets and to snuggle into the pillow that still held the lingering traces of his scent. Lashes fluttering open, her hand crept to wipe away the sleep dust from her eyes while she rolled ever slowly to her back, the sheets falling away from her chest with a satisfying stretch of her back and a light groan of relief at how wonderful that felt.
His ears had caught the faint sound of her voice, from the next room. The soft animalistic noise reminded him of a cat stretching out it's back from a long, well deserved nap. Though his thought had not wavered much from the content of his reading material when the stir of the sheets began to rustle about with her body. It was a brief moment in closing his eyes to blink when a flash of the events the night prior replayed in his head, a smile could not help but creep across his features at the wonderful bliss he had enjoyed that only she was able to give him. No other before, and none after surely she would know that, maybe no but it would remain in his own heart for as long as he could keep it there. He was still Gaara Sabaku, merciless and uncaring. He had a reputation to keep up without the compilations of having a silly emotion such as this one to cloud his mind.
His chin tilted up to the next page, as he flipped it gently careful not to damage or fray the old text.
She spent a moment simply staring up at the ceiling in thought, eyes still lazily blinking away sleep while her mind recalled the events that had brought her here to this moment. This...was the first time she had remained with a man until morning light, always sneaking out when the distraction was over with, or when whatever trinket or treasure that had brought her there in the first place was in her possession. But then again, when she had bedded with other men it was always an act of business and not of her own personal needs of lust. From the moment he had appeared in her life, Gaara had captivated her interest, firstly as a mere curiosity of a young woman still naive with dreams of grandeur, and later on developing into more of an adult mindset. What did it mean to know that only his touch could make her feel this way, make her feel this need she had seen in so many other girls who had made sex their life? What did it mean when she remembered every moment they spent together, every word, every breath, every touch?
With a quiet sigh, she settled on just not knowing and left it at that, finally sitting up from the bed and gathering the sheets around her small frame before touching her feet on the cold floor. The soft patter of her footsteps were barely heard, though in a home that existed in such silence they seemed disturbingly loud, breaking through the tranquility as she stopped at the door and wordlessly peeked into the next room where he sat.
His pale eyes lifted, nearly tearing away from the pages of the book to the sound of her light footsteps pattering over the wooden floor. His ears twitched as the sound had stopped suddenly and his eyes drew to the stunning goddess to which was draping herself in his sheets. His jaw drop at the sight, he hadn't known for sure if it was the way the sun hit her features in such a way she almost shone to make even the most beautiful jealous, his eyes squinted just a little to regain focused to the gleam from the white fabric that contrasted perfectly with her skin color. Or just the swell in his chest that he was able to look at the one woman who had even come close to getting into his life on an intimate level was that much more stunning when she had woke up after him. His face remained slightly usual blank as it normally was, though with a hint of awe.
Closing the book over placing it aside slowly, and he found himself leaning back in the wooden chair with a single digit grazing over his bottom lip, as if it helped him grasp a better view.
"Your still here, I'm amazed." He stated bluntly, but clearly meant as a sad joke. "Are you going to make off with my sheets this time?"
For a brief moment before all his attention had gone to her, Gaara seemed almost content with sitting quietly at his desk, seagreen eyes scanning through the pages of the book in his hand. It was an image she found...odd, as if it never occurred to her that one in their position could indulge in such innocent and calm recreational acts despite knowing how much he had enjoyed the written world as a child when they had first met. Tenten herself had devoted her spare time (rare as it may have been) to doing the same as well. She nearly snickered at his comment though, remembering the manner in which she had left his company after their last encounter. Really, was he so attached to that jacket as to hold a grudge against her for taking it, especially when he had left her little other choice in the matter when he impulsively ripped her own shirt to shreds? However, she suspected he was only joking at the matter and decided to toy with it as well, giving a slight gesture of her hand to add to the sarcasm. "Well...these are rather nice sheets."
In turn, her head tilted to the side in thought at his first statement, though more playful than contemplative over what he might have been implying with it, her brown eyes taking on a look of calm skepticism. Keeping one hand grasped around the ends of the sheet covering her lithe form, she rested the other at the curve of her hip, shifting her weight more on one leg with an easy sway of her body. "Would you have rather I left upon waking or that I had left during the night like last time? The way you were holding on to me last night said other wise."
Her statement poised an even further frown over his face. His dark lids narrowed over soft aquamarine, meeting light brow ones, a tilt in his head as he scoffed. But honestly he had no rebuttal for it, he had one for everything... But this...he was stumbling over thoughts in his head and came up with absolutely nothing. His lips pressed together in annoyance lifting an arm to flick her towards him as if to by him more time to think.
"I tend to cling to the warmest thing next to me, don't fatter yourself... To much." His glare remained hard and cold, though in his own mind, locked away from her teasing words, it was only meant half hearted. "You would know that if you stayed last time."
He shifted in his chair, the fingers dropping from his lips reaching back for the half eaten apple to the side of his desk. He gestured for her to have what she wished, fruit from this island was far different from others, they tend to have a sweet flavor of the natural sugar. The sun-kissed lemons far more sour than any he had ever tasted yet still delicious none the less.
"Have what you want, it's yours." His eyes followed her moments, hypnotized by the gentle sway of her hips, the way her bare leg peak through the part in the sheets were pulled together with her hand. Just the sight of her now, was causing his blood rush to the southern regions below his waist. Eyes slowly closed over in a blink catching a swift image of last night events, making the shift in his pants grow tighter.
"Oh, but if I do not flatter myself, who will?" She was being coy, and perhaps unnecessarily so, but it was how she had been programmed to function around men, and such habitual things were hard to diverge from, even around someone like Gaara. With an easy and effortless move of her hand, she brushed aside a few strands of hair from her eyes and stepped into the room, the tail end of the sheets sweeping along the ground as she walked. The move was pointless as the locks fell back into place to give a light shadow over one eye, but it was productive at the very least and gave her hand something else to do besides retain what little modesty was still left to her. "And I couldn't very well stay last time. My ship was scheduled to leave in the morning and I preferred not to board the ship lacking a shirt for the entire crew to see."
Tenten wasn't sure the reason why she felt the need to explain that to him, as if she had to explain anything at all. There was never a need for it before and many others would have simply shrugged at her disappearance, never to think of her again. But then again, that was perhaps the difference. While the other men were faceless bodies that faded from her memory as quickly as she did from their beds, he was somewhat of a constant in her life, though their meetings were always erratic and unpredictable (but she supposed that was part of its charm). And where most other men in her life only viewed her worth by what laid between her legs, he seemed to hold a different opinion, unless she was simply seeing some naive ideal of his persona in her mind.
Gliding to the far corner of his desk, she reached out a hand and plucked up an orange from the tray of fruit placed on his desk and proceeded to peel off the skin in smooth and easy motions, arms held firmly at her side to keep the sheets in place despite Gaara having already seen every curve of her body. There were some scars and some injuries that were easily concealed in the shadows of the night and the light of the candles. And now with dawn long past and the day in full swing, Tenten felt the need to keep them that way if she could manage it.
He watched, his eyes finding it hard to rip his gaze from the perfect curves of her hips, tightly wrapped up like a present. Her voice smooth and sweet like the morning sun adding to the rising need to have her once again. The thoughts passing through his thoughts of pushing her back against his desk in the heat of his usual morning erection that seemed much more intense the longer she leaned against his desk idly pealing at the orange she had chosen for breakfast.
"You have seduced many before me, and more to come after." He stated leaning forward in his chair, his hand grazed along the dips and folds of the tapered sheets, feeling around to where he thought the curves of her waist was hidden beneath. The thought annoyed him greatly for something that he as not usual to care much for, the pleasurable company of woman was not rare in the young redheads life, ever since he had become captain at the young age of 14 (about to turn 15), a year after he had first met her. It was after that time that he had first laid with a woman who offered herself up as a payment for her release, of which he gladly took, discarding her at he nearest port in Tortuga, having a taste for it ever since. Even now at 16, things were no different if not worse when woman young and old came to him seeking to offer him pleasure just for reasons completely unknown. But this one, seemed to have quite the hold on his mind and body. He wondered if there would ever come a point in his life where this, a woman such as this, would cause his heart to skip, even if only once, to have the need to want to see her whenever he wished.
The folds of the light sheets were parted at her leg but his hands, finding his palm flat against her thigh grazing it over her tender flesh in a gentle stoke. His eyes remained in contact with hers where she had ended towering over him while he sat. Both hands now, wondering in hopes of discovering some secret he might have missed the previous times before.
"Is that such a surprise?" Her hands remained where they were in her lap, continuing the motion of peeling away the skin of the orange and disregarding it into a small pile on the desk beside where she rested, shifting a bit so she was more sitting rather than leaning. The tips of her hair brushed and swayed against her wrists, her thumbs, with every move she made, nothing more than long streams of liquid night effectively accented in natural brown hues that gave her a more exotic look that was not often seen in this part of the world, if ever. And as thin fingers gently worked to pry out a section of the orange from it's casing, a section of those flowing locks swept over her shoulder, obscuring the delicate curve of her cheek even more while she spoke. "If men refuse to see me as nothing more than a means to fulfill their desires, I might as well use it to my advantage. Few women have any other choice."
And she believed her words, practiced them with years of care and experience which supported the theory she preached. It had been her life for so long, ever since the first time she had offered to distract a young naval captain in some far away country in the Caspian Sea. He had held the key to a safe that contained the map to one of the great Indian treasures of the Eastern World and every other attempt had proved futile. Her father had been adamant against it as is expected of most fathers, but by the time he had discovered her plan it had been too late to retain what innocence was left to her. It had not been as life changing or traumatic as she thought, simply a lingering dullness of her senses as Tenten struggled to understand why other women seemed so horrified with such acts. There had been a problem and through those means she had solved it. What was so terrifying about that?
But as his hands roamed over the slope of her thigh, the sheet falling inch by inch with his exploration, she had to wonder if perhaps there was simply more to it that she did not understand at the time, and maybe still did not understand. With the way his hands could cause such a beat of her heart unlike no other she had been with, the way his eyes captivated her attention, Tenten could not help think that perhaps there might still be hope for her to learn those untold lessons that had been hidden from her.
Finally managing to break free a section of the orange, she brought the thin slice to her lips and bit off half, finding the juices very sweet and delicious.
His eyes could not part from her lips, as hard as he tried, her slow chew of her jaw was nearly hypnotize as the sweet smell of the orange began to fill the air with a strong scent. The way her long hair hung over her shoulder, the light of the sun passing through it almost making it look lighter in shade was captivating. Her exposed thigh under his hands smooth and soft, he ignored the small bruises and cuts as they were not of much importance as the whole picture was. His heart could not help but forget to beat, skipping once or twice in a cycle, his breath taken from him at this very simple but unique woman who had managed to wedge her way unknowingly in his life.
A soft hand feathered over her, the sheets spreading even more as he shifted his weight against her to have her stand between his legs. His back found the comfort of the chair relaxing and the view quite enjoyable for the most part, she remind him of a woman portrayed in his books of ancient text from Greece and Egypt. Aside from the lighter shade of her hair the crisp rays had turned it, she could pass as one described, an enchantress from the oldest myths, a goddess of love and beauty only to use her gifted to lour and demolish anything and anyone in her path. This, this is was truly what attracted him to her, this was why he could not get enough the power she held over one of the most ruthless in their world, to reduce him to this... She did not fear him, which was why he had the want to have her time and time again. Someone who would present a challenge, to rebuttal him without fear.... She was different.
He reached lifting his back from the chair, his fingers pealing back a small slice from the orange in her hand. A slight tilt, he never really liked oranges but the smell was powerful filling his nose with the most wonderful sweet tinge. Putting the entire thing his mouth the sudden burst of flavor tickled his taste buds, a nod of agreeing to himself before leaning forward again. Either of his hands wrapped around each side of the toga tugging it lightly allowing it to fall to the floor. Now this was more like it.
Even her thin and small frame seemed towering from where he sat in his seat, placing him at perfect eye level with one of the more...enticing assets of her body as the sheets fell away, landing with a cool and almost soundless rustle to the floor. Most other women would have recoiled from being so exposed, but she had the comfort of knowing that there was not much of her that the young captain had not seen of yet. And there was still more to discover of the raid written all over her body, if he knew where to look. Though, she seemed more concerned with what was left of the orange clutched in her hands, finishing the last of her first piece without a word while jaded eyes roamed over the familiar curves of her form.
Of her last trip to the Caribbean, the taste and smell of oranges had been one of the more prominent memories she held. Such sweet nectar was not common in the part of the world where she was from, though Singapore had it's own variety of delectable foods of nature. But Tenten had found a liking to it and had craved to have the flavor flood her mouth ever since their ship had reached Atlantic waters, which was why she gave a small pout when the young Gaara had taken a section from her hand for himself. It was a sin and a travesty to take from her what was so rarely a given joy in her life, punishable to the highest degree in a thousand different ways that were currently flashing through her mind. But she knew from experience that he had a high threshold for pain, occasionally reveling in it. So there would be a different brand of torture to be served today. If he wished to have the fruit, he was more than welcome to it. But it would come at a price.
She smiled innocently down at him while bringing what remained of the orange to her lips, parting them to work off another section of the fresh fruit with her tongue in plain view. And with her sweet brown eyes trained on him, Tenten watched and waited to see how he would react to the scene, how ever so delicately she pried off a piece of the orange and slowly let it slide into her mouth, chewing with little thought as she had done before. And as if to add insult to injury, she held out her hand to offer another piece to him, bewitching smile still in place to boil at his pride.
It was a blank stare really, that hid with truly brewed in the far corners of his sexually over developed mind at the sight of her. Even now as the white sheets tapered to the floor in a pool of piled fabric gracefully around her feet. The juices from the orange giving a light spray as she bit into the wedge slipping it into her mouth in a rather suggestive manner.
His lean took farther, a finger grazing idly over his chin remaining in his usual flat stare, his pale aquamarine eyes seemed almost white with the slightest hint of green in this light as he scanned over her exposed flesh, enjoying the sensual curves of her hips, that sloped into her well formed legs. Vision dropping to the extended orange she had offered up. Hesitating he leaned forward pealing a little more from the half and brining it to his lips. He cocked a nonexistent eyebrow as he had no indication of where this kind gesture of hers would leave him. He had read of Sirens in his books of ancient Greece, women of the greatest beauty using their song to lure the weak hearted into a mass of bloody deaths among the rocks of shallow waters, perhaps her tactics were similar. He would need to keep his guard at a high, even though he found it hard to concentrate on anything else but the soft rise and fall of her chest, her breasts moving rhythmically with every inhale, exhale. How she ate the rest of that orange with some sort of hidden meaning he was yet to discover.
All the while unable to ignore the grossly swelling bulge building in his pants, awaiting for release from the fabric prison it was locked away in. It was begging to feel unbearable in the mess of restriction as even the very tip of him found hard and peaking from the waist band from where he sat slightly slouched. Shifting to a more comfortable position, in hopes of taming, controlling his body but with great difficulty as it appeared to make things more visible.
In a slow blink that let her lashes fan out across her cheeks for a brief moment, giving just the slightest attention to her sharp and exotically Asian eyes, she watched curiously while he shifted in his chair, popping another section of the orange into her mouth and letting her finger linger in between her lips just long enough to give a quiet smack when she pulled it out. And then came the faintest of smirks when she caught the obvious bulge between his legs, settling back against his desk in a half sit half leaning position once more. It was clear that she was enjoying this, finding amusement in teasing Gaara to see just how far his limits were and feeling an element of excitement in wondering just when his self control would snap back at her efforts. The prospect of his wrath or whatever consequences that would come of his frustrations was something that excited her like nothing else in the world save for her own freedom.
So to continue her twisted game she wiped at a small trickle of juice the orange wedge had left behind with her thumb and proceeded to eat away at the fruit without hesitation, letting the light of the morning play along her slopes and curves while she shifted her body every so often, so mockingly innocent. And as an idle afterthought, she brought the small dribble to her lips and proceeded to drag the tip of her tongue across the pad of her thumb before continuing, nimbly stripping off the last of the skin so that they could twirl the final section of the orange between the pads of her fingers. And then those wondrous eyes locked with his, twinkling in a wordless question that seemed to ask 'would you like another taste' while being completely vague on whether she was referring to the orange or herself.
And twisted game it was, Gaara had never believe during the course of eating breakfast could turn into something as sensual and erotic as this. She was clearly an expert at visually pleasing men, having done it to get by in this life they both lived. But he, just took what he wished while she played with her meat until she felt it right to finish them off. She was like a cat with a ball of yarn, playing and pawing at it teasingly because she could, because the all of yarn could not fight back. The seductive way her lips had suctioned against a slice of fruit suggested her game had barely begun.
A nod of is head indicating yes to her offer. His shift forward once again extending his arm to the orange for another small piece, pale eyes slid over the dips and curves of her body until meeting almond eyes with his own uniquely shaped and colored ones. It was something of an odd feature on the young captain as many things, he'd seen no other with the same hollow shade as he had remembered his fathers were black as the night when they weren't lit in a fiery-red shade when he had come about looking for his son to satisfy his need for manly boost of his ego. Gaara's mother, he had not known what she was like, let alone what she looked like...He Would have liked to believe she was a wonderful, beautiful woman....but His short life had no time to think of such things when survival was number one.
Leaning back against the chair, he watched her even more intensely as before, to enjoy the playful game she had planned. The mischievous glint she had sparkle in her eye, would have been down right nerve racking for most, but Gaara allowed her to play it out for as long as he could control his need to take her and plant his seed in her for the fourth time. Uncaring of what would happen of the consequences of his lustful actions all that was cared was his own pleasure was satisfied. With having women come to him on more occasions the young man could count with news of a child that was to be his. A scoff and turned away at the door was a usual reaction from the red head, the thought of bedding woman and not taking responsibility for the outcome was something that had not concerned him. Which was in the same instance now, all that mattered was the visual and pleasurable company of this little eastern rose that had fell into his lap.
"It's almost gone." He stated bluntly pointing out the final wedge that was left.
Stimulating and entertaining a man's attention was hardly as difficult as most thought. The majority of the battle had already been won the moment she had walked into the room in the provocative manner, already poised to inspire his imagination and desire with her lack of clothing. The real test was to push him in just the right way with just the right force to make it seem completely his idea, though with this round of foreplay she was being less discreet than usual. A thin brow arched curiously while the slant of her eyes easily slid to regard the orange wedge in her fingers, the tone of her voice ever so innocent and yet still holding a hint of amusement for what all this was obviously doing to him. "Hm...so it would seem."
And just as easily, all attention was back on him, her head tilting just so to let the fall of her hair glide over her shoulder once more while she watched his wonderfully light aquagreen eyes shift in such a way that told of his...want of the last piece of the orange, and so much more, that if it did not go to him, there would be consequences. But she had a solution to this small dilemma, one that she had been working towards ever since he had stolen his first piece from her.
Resting herself more on the desktop and leaning back a bit for leverage, using a hand for support, she stretched out her legs coolly and swiftly, hooking her feet to the arms of the chair he sat in and giving him a streamline view of her crevice, lower lips already glistening with her feminine juices and with what remained of their activities the previous night. And with no warning, she pulled him in closer with the strength of her limbs in one smooth motion. Once in range, the young woman placed the last bit of fruit in her mouth and leaned forward, resting a foot in his chair right between Gaara's own legs and just barely brushing her toe along his bulge. Oddly balanced on the edge of the desk, she used the armrests for extra support while offering up the part of the orange wedge sticking out of her lips, enticing him with all the suggestive visuals that she could.
His apparent grin had dropped in an almost airy look, his jaw dropped at the faint brush of her toe and eyes unable to tear away from her current exposed position. He hadn't known how or when he had ended up on this end of the predator scale, all he knew that she was in control for the most part until he deemed it the proper time to throw his authority again. Such an amazing woman, not only in her seductive tactics, she was also quite smart in more ways than he could imagine, someone to truly match his own. She was beautiful, of course, obviously she had already known that and was no secret that she had been complimented on. But being who he was, Gaara refused to give her that small piece of information for fear of her ego getting larger than his, instead he pressed his jaw shut once again as his light aqua orbs found her lighter brown ones in an intense stare contest.
She was offering him half of her final piece, deviating in his own mind to take up the offer or not. His decision was swiftly made when a hand darted out swiftly grasping her upper arm, with a slight shake he eased her forward when his mouth found his half of the remaining fruit. The burst of sweet juices was only intensified while having Tenten attached to the other half. As he brushed the piece to the side pressing his tongue past her lips in a long awaited kiss. His moan was of pure satisfaction, pleased with the combined flavors sloshing in his mouth, tongue coiling around her half and scooping it from her in a swift move. Pulling himself away, swallowing back to rid of the obstructions occupying and distracting him from the task at hand. Lips greeting hers again in a mindless dance of domination, his own game that he always ended to be the victor.
Though the pleasure of finishing off the orange was not hers, there was a more interesting game in play now. Even while her lips fixed in a sad pout for the loss of the delicious citrus flavor of the fruit, there was another plan twirling around in her mind. There were many uncertainties in life, more so for that of a pirate who lived on adventure and danger. For that, a mind had to be quick to adjust to any and all surprises that laid on the horizon. She had learned long ago that without this quality, a plan could just as easily fail as it did succeed. And when the lives of countless others rested on your shoulders, it was enough motivation to learn the game quickly and effectively. However, there was something to be said about applying these skills in a more amusing manner. It was a thin line between business and pleasure as small as the razor sharp point of a blade, and she was tip-toeing along it with all the thrill and excitement that such dangers usually brought.
A man with enough alcohol in his system, she was quick to learn, was never particular about who he bedded in the drunken fog of the night. And a man was always receptive to a young lady who was willing to grace him with her company. Even Gaara, who she knew firstly as a distant young lad who grew up to be a cruel and formidable captain of his crew, had proven such. It was no secret to her that he would bed any woman who offered herself up to him willingly, and understood that part of human nature within men, though it made her question why he would choose to fight for so hard a prize as herself when he could easily have a dozen others instead. Full and luscious lips curved against his in a small smirk at the notion that perhaps the challenge was part of her allure, and if so then this would be an interesting war, indeed.
Leaning in more, she slowly eased off of his desk and advanced forward with the grace and smoothness of a tigress on the prowl, circling around her prey just as her lips circled around his in a temptatious dance. Sliding her thighs over his into the chair that seemed almost too small to hold the both of them, surprisingly settling into his lap (and conveniently against his bulge) with ease, she kissed him back with a drive and passion that could contest any other, swirling her tongue around in his mouth in exploration to gather up all that remained of the orange wedge while at the same time overwhelming his senses.
It was as he thought, just like a cat on the hunt for excitement... Growing braver by every passing moment she spent in his company. A deep growl in response to her mount, finding him still at a shorter height against her. But still, giving in to his natural needs as a man his arms coiled around her bare waist, finger tips sliding over the deep crease of her spine. His strokes, easy and soft against tender flesh as he figured the night before when she had come to him her body was not in all shape to take any aggressive behavior from him. But finding it hard to hold back his urges as they were swelling to an unimaginable size, still in the confinements of his pants.
His lips pattered around her aimlessly, the flash of erotic thoughts of her small frame impaled onto his in the comfort of this chair had sent a shooting tingle, his peek was reaching and his annalistic need was going to take over, as it always done. Never failing in the past, this is no different... Or was it? He inwardly pondered the thought of finally.... No... He not dare think such a thing. But to have this.. Woman sneak so far into his personal world and have his mind cloud with nothing but thoughts of her at his side, was beyond comprehension. Especially when he found his limbs taking on a mind of their own, and doing pleasing things for her benefit without thinking twice if he would actually get something from it. But in the end, he always gotten what he wanted...this was diffidently at the top of his list of things the young man desired.
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It was what seemed like hours of lovemaking that their world had suddenly stopped to a light creek that filed the room like a monstrous thunder storm. The echo rang loud in his ears as the sound caused him to halt in his action and shoot a glare in the direction it was coming from. His eyes grew wide, his face remained as flat as usual... But clearly the anger had began a light growl in his chest.
"Captain Gaa..." A middle aged sailor Gaara had not cared to know. The only thing known of this man was that he had the nerve to walk in without asking, and now his prying, filthy eyes were feeding on what was his, the naked woman sprawled over his desk with her legs draped around him. It probably would have been a rather pleasing sight to most men, if the man in charge was not Gaara Sabaku giving his all too famous death stares before death was to follow at the young man's hands. If it would have been with any other woman that fire of hate burning in the core of stomach would not be inflamed so harshly... But as it stood, his jaw clenched, blinking a few times to clear his mind of he foggy mess she had taken him to.
She was still sprawled out over the desktop and panting for air when he stopped, all attention both his and hers turning towards the creek of the door and the intruder who DARED interrupt them in the middle of this, to stop the blissful pleasure of their union with their unwanted presence. Straining not to whimper at the loss of movement from his throbbing length, still seated deep inside of her and stretching out her passage with it's thickness, she sent sharp daggers towards their guest in her glance, riddled and filled with elaborate curses and damnation in a foreign tongue he most likely could not even begin to comprehend. And if that was not enough insult, the aging man seemed to be staring at her body, something that had only been meant for Gaara's beautiful aquagreen eyes to see.
It would be a stupid notion to deny that men found her attractive or at the very least pleasing to watch. Countless numbers of them had already fallen to her charms and she was sure that there would be more to come. But the way his seem to linger on every curve and slope of her body as if to memorize it, reserving the image for lonely days to come while out on the open sea during their hunts, with little regard to the other two in the room only angered her. The movements they made, the heated kisses, the strained breaths, the gentle sway and hard thrusts, were like a sacred ritual of their bodies and their souls, precious and only reserved for the divine to witness the full greatness of the union. Any who dared disrupt that would be punished. And HE was unworthy.
Slowly she sat up from the table so that the at least her most prominent assets were hidden from the sailor's wandering eyes, all the while the pirate wench glared at him from behind the falls of her hair, giving her expression a much more intimidating and deadly gleam in the morning light. The hand that was not pressed against the table for support slowly crept up along Gaara's chest to hook over his shoulder, almost possessively, as if it was HIS body that was being violated and not hers, brown eyes finally turning to meet with seagreen, making a wordless comment in an unspoken conversation that they both understood instantly.
His hard glare had never left the man, even when he seemed to wonder aimlessly over the body that was his. His deep trance only broken by the slink of her arm draping around him, the touch sending somewhat of a signal, but he knew upon his intrusion what he planned to do to those who walk in unannounced. He withdrew himself from the warmth of her passage, and with moves swift like the hunter he was moving around the desk in his nakedness striding toward the victim to come.
The wide eyed look on the mans face grew to realization what he had done, with flick of his head from side to side 'no' as a lame attempt to spare his own life, but his doom was sealed the moment the door clicked open and took his first glance inside. Reaching out as he walked, Gaara pulled a sword from his holster slung from a hook, ready to be strapped to the boy's waist once ready for the day lay dormant until this moment when the sharp edge scrapped along the casing.
A hard, forceful swing almost looked effortless as the stunned shocked expression froze on the now beheaded man of the accused, the spray of blood sprinkled against the young man's cheek, his flat stare unwavering pale eyes watching as the brainless head fell to the floor. The blade remained impaled in the side of the door frame with the area splashed with a brilliant shade of crimson, the body remained standing for moments until buckling to it's knees and joining the head on the floor. A flame of satisfaction infused with the still growing arousal only increased the matters as the blood began to pool at his feet.
Licking his lips, a wide demented smile painted his boyish features as he made his way back to the prize that awaited him.
Her eyes had fluttered close at his withdrawal, her walls clenching in protest at the loss of the heat and sweet sensation brushing along her passage. But she stifled all verbal protest with a simple bit of her lip, only letting a small grunt to escape before he was on the move. And she watched with interest and perhaps some sick pleasure at the prospect of what would happen, of what Gaara had planned. His eyes that had always seemed to glow against the dark circles of his lids seemed brighter still while he stalked towards his foolish prey and she felt a thrill of seeing the glint of the sword as it slipped easily and almost soundlessly from it's sheath. But then again, anything with a sharp edge had always had that effect on her ever since she had received her first knife at the young age of five.
The paper-thin blade sliced through skin and bone so effortlessly in her eyes, only creating a small slosh when it cut through the muscle and flesh before ending with a solid thud against the wooden door. And the blood fanned out so beautifully as if he were an artist and the wall was his canvas. The coppery scent, the sight of the fresh corpse laying motionless at is feet while blood continued to pool and collect around him...the intensity of the moment could only be matched with the beating of her heart. And she watched hungrily as Gaara made his way back to her, covered with droplets of the sailor's blood that speckled his cheek.
When he was within reach of her fingers again, she gently slid her palms along his chest, making streaks of red from the beads of blood that were there, and leaned in to lick off a few specks from his cheek, wrapping her arms around him while ever moving her lips closer towards his ear. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a bit jealous..."
Nothing followed in response to her statement but a deep grunt of annoyance. His eye followed as she suckled the crimson liquid from her fingers, causing a slight pick up in her heart rate. Her response to the event was cool and calm almost as if she enjoyed every moment of the show. With that knowledge it cause a heart wrench of something pure, something he had not felt before an ache in his chest where his heart still beating a steady rhythm. It was an odd feeling considering murder and death was really something Gaara was not phased by, it was easy and gave somewhat of glorified satisfaction of knowing he was feared among all others. His thirst for the soft tear of skin, the gushing blood from main arteries managing to slice through with the greatest of ease, had become easier with each life taken by his own hand.
It was an urge of need when he dove forward aggressively gasping her lips, mashing them with his a snarl forming in the hollow of his chest of need. She would be his, she would remain his for as long as he could hang on and determine in his own mind what this foreign feeling was invading his senses whenever she was around. The dominance began to override once again placing hands on ether side of her upper arms and forcing her back to the desk. An impish smirk, with the acceleration of adrenalin from both the arousal of having her for himself and the deep pool of blood filling the room with it's iron scent, a shudder of excitement as pale eyes grew wide and the uncontrolled thrust forward sent him back deep into the womb of his woman. A blood painted hand reached out grasping around her jaw turning her head to the side to examine the perfection that was under his thumb, that belonged to him in many ways… Claiming her like she was an object of affection did no bother the young Captain as that was how it was when the life of his torment ended, whatever Gaara wanted, Gaara received.
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The most wonderful, and happy moments flashed through his mind upon this delicious climax. He was... Happy, and this woman was able to bring when he had to offer to the surface of the table. He would protect her, keep her safe from all whom dared to harm her for they would pay with their lives if even looking in her direction the wrong way. He would keep her for his own, for as long as he needed to hold onto this.... Feeling she passed to him every time they had met.
His weak body slumped against hers, knees buckling to accommodate the difference in height laying his cheek flush against her heaving chest. The blood that painted his body, melting away with the layer of sweat that coated his body, the mixture of both smeared effortlessly over her yellow skin.
For all purpose and urges, she would have returned the sentiments of his foreign words had she possessed the strength of will or coherent thought to form something of worth. Words were never her specialty, especially in the heat of passion, if ever she felt something this strongly for another soul in the world. As it was, this concept of love or this feeling that seemed a close representation of that emotion was blindingly and exotically new to her, shining brightly with the hot light of moving bodies, burning souls, and scorching sentiments that went beyond earthly words. She spoke with her body where the words would not come, gripping around his back harder, squeezing her thighs around his hip, clencing around his length as her back arched against the desktop, mouth opened in a silent cry of her own release right at the start of his.
And together they crossed the lines between this plane and the next to some place higher where perhaps they would get their endless possibilities, where such things as love and emotions were never questioned but understood, where all that mattered were her nails scraping over the curve of his hips, the heat of his body surrounding her when it was all over and they fell back against the hard truth of reality.
Her body was too wracked with the bliss, arms moving to cradle his head against into the valley of her breasts to care what would happen after this, because she knew she could not stay with him forever, though it was sorely tempting. She still had business to take care of and could not complete them from here. He had served his purpose and so much more by making her forget. But he had made her remember as well, remember the person she was and the person she had to become in her father's absence.
Thin fingers toyed with the locks of his hair, weighted down by the sweat covering their body, and she wondered just how she would free herself from this hold he held over her, because indeed his spell had brought her here and had kept her here for this long, welcomed as it was.
His breath heavy, his words at a loss for lack of energy hearing the steady rhythmic beat of her fast paced heart tumbling like a loud drum beneath the bone cage that protected it. She had never looked or felt so beautiful, the light gleam of the sweat kissing her skin as the morning sun glossed over, or the paint of crimson which had transferred from him to her in the heat of their passion. Either way, his weakness was over taking his mind, fatigue crept back to the joints and limbs of his body unable to move from this spot she had froze him in. His forehead lowered to the wooded surface of the desk between her shoulder and neck with a gentle thud, bouncing lightly a few times as if to shake his mind into sense once lost.
"Get clean." he stated groggily. "....and dress. I will have someone come and clean this... Mess..." Meaning the still gushing body that had fell upon his curious enter. Hand planted firmly on the desk at her other side pushing himself from his lazy position. Staying just a moment to take in the gorgeous sight that was her, a woman to take his heart, and his breath all in one meeting. To be such a wondrous being for doing a thing to one with a reputation for someone whom felt nothing in the care for others, to kill whenever he felt... This woman softened his heart, eased his soul, snuffed out the pain of his past.
"I'll be back." With his final thoughts reaching down to pull on the pants that had dropped around his feet in a clumsy pool, and disappearing from her sight out the door. His words came to him as natural as barking out orders to his crew...his Demands were always met from man or woman who had given themselves to him, weather in labor or in the bedroom.
Thin arms sun-kissed by the summer rays slipped away from his body as he rose, leaving the warm comfort that she provided for the duty that called to the both of them. He was a captain of a pirate crew and she belonged to what remained of her father's band of miscreants, scattered and lost as they were. But she could only look up at him with a gentle smile as their eyes locked for what she believed would be the last time, reaching up to brush her knuckles over his cheek one last time. After all, she was not a woman of the Caribbean, but the South Pacific Sea and the lands of her ancestors. She did not belong here. Perhaps she did not belong anywhere.
She shuffled to rest on her elbows, still stretched out over the top of his desk, strands of hair slipping ever so gently over the curve of her shoulder to create an all too appealing image for the young Trinidad captain though unintentional on her part. And she wordlessly watched him leave the room after giving his orders, still shirtless but satisfied with their morning romp nonetheless. Yes, he would be back, but she would not be there when he did. Her father's corpse was still hanging in the port as a warning to all pirates, dishonored and disgraced, denied the burial at sea that he deserved. And if not she, then who else would have the courage to cut him down and free his soul?
Her eyes stayed at the empty doorway where he disappeared to for only a moment longer before she slid off of the desk and left into the other room to wash off the blood and gather her things. The dress from last night was dry now and would still provide good cover for walking about in broad daylight. Never growing up with a support of women to help her, she easily tugged on the flowing gown with little trouble and began searching for another means of escape. To leave by the front door was a bold concept but a stupid one. She would be easily seen and he would stop at nothing to keep her. And then her salvation came in the form of a window overlooking a side street next to the tavern, a bit small but still big enough to allow her to slip through, nothing out of the ordinary for her. At the last moment, as if as an afterthought, she reached out and grabbed his black jacket from the floor where he had discarded it the night before, whispering one wordless goodbye to the young Captain and vanishing from sight.
Moments after her unknown departure Gaara had found himself a sucker to discard the decapitated body of the poor soul who dared emplace his eyes, visually feeding on what was his. He smirked against his thoughts of the easy slice through bone and flesh had felt against his hands, swift and soundless as he had learned through countless times of holding another life in his grasp. And now, there was another life in his hands, this one to protect, shelter and love? He shook his head from the demented thoughts of such an emotion that he had never known, did she feel the same way? Confused? Lost? It did not matter to him, the only thing was he had found something worth of more value than any amount of rum, the most precious gold, the deepest treasures in the world he knew.
Icy, aquamarine eyes lifted as he entered the room, taking a step past the mangled body about to be removed. He studied the room a moment, an empty feeling swept over him, the sun sweet appearing through the windows still tainted the air with a light musky from the heated sex from their passionate union lingered like dust partials. It was quiet, too quiet for a woman like Tenten... His pause took him to the center of the cluttered room, filled with ancient text, scrolls, treasures and riches, weapons from different ages and makes to maps and export papers for the underground rum business his father left behind. But there was... No Tenten.... His jaw clenched at the though racing through his mind... His stride took him past the desk still laced with memories to the bed room from the night before...
Each hand placed on either side of the door frame, his knuckles turning white with anger, in final realization... Noting a light shimmer of something under his pillow, he advanced with a heavy foot of frustration and chucked the pillow from his way to find a blade, entwined with a dragon, and a note placed under. The parchment crumpled in his hand, the heat rising to his face bearing his teeth like a wild animal ready to snap. Making his way back to the half filled tub of now cold water....where He left his discarded cloths the night before, only to find his....
"MY FUCKING JACKET!" He growled, more importantly she left so soundly, stealthy without a word. He threw the paper ball to the calm water of the tub frantically finding something to wear at an attempt to catch her near the docks..."Fucking bitch..." He snarled again and again, sailors, brothel woman, citizens in general steering clear of the obviously passed off red head, on a rampage killing anything and anyone who dared asked what was wrong.