Fic: After (POTC)
I wrote this a long time ago but didn't type it up until now.
Title: After
Author: Guanin
Summary: Ragetti and Pintel put on the dresses right before the attack on the Dauntless.
Rating: PG
Pintel cursed. That was the third time he’d tripped over that damnned skirt. The skirt was too long and the bodice was too tight and what the hell was he doing in a dress anyway? He cursed again, sending every execration he could think of on Bosun’s head. He looked at Ragetti, who seemed absurdly happy at the prospect of wearing a dress. As soon as Bosun had given the order, he’d wasted no time in shedding out of his clothes and pulling out the red dress from the chest. Pintel had stared as the first few inches of red fabric slid down Ragetti’s skin, but he quickly turned away. It was an old habit by now. Ten years of nothingness had turned even passion and desire into no more than ashes scattering at the back of his throat. But hope could awaken even the deadest emotions. He felt something spark in his belly, a slow fire that spread through his body until his skin felt strangely itchy and the dress seemed to be clinging to him with spicy needles. He yanked at the cloth that clung to his body, annoyed now at more than just the offensive garment.
‘Pintel, I need you to tie this.’
Pintel gave up and went to help Ragetti with his dress. He picked up the lacings at the back of the bodice and started pulling the garment closed. It didn’t offer much resistance. Ragetti was so slim that he didn’t need a corset for it to fit. Not that Pintel himself was wearing one; the dress itself was insult enough.
His fingertips grazed Ragetti’s bare skin as he worked. His senses told him nothing other than that he’s touching a smooth surface, but his heart almost beats again at the whisper of memories that spring from the contact. A warm, responsive body, salty-sweet to the taste moving under his, fervent gaze speaking a depth of emotion of emotion that needed no name. His fingers fumbled on the laces, accidentally prodding Ragetti’s spine.
Ragetti turned his head.
‘Pintel?’
Pintel grunted in reply, tying the strings in a tight knot.
‘How’s your dress coming?’
Pintel’s pride rankled at being reminded of the hateful contraption he was wearing and he spoke with all the contempt he felt for every frilly lace.
‘The damned thing won’t stay closed. Fucking bodice is too small.’
‘Well, it is meant to be worn with a corset, so it…’
Ragetti trailed off as he saw the glare that Pintel directed at him.
‘You better not be suggesting that I put on one of those damned things.’
‘No, I was just saying, is all. Here, I can fix it.’
He went to stand behind Pintel. Soon Pintel felt the bodice tighten around his torso.
‘It’s not so bad. I can get it close enough.’
‘Do you have to jerk it like that?’
‘I have to get it closed. It doesn’t hurt.’
He’s like a woman playing dress up, Pintel thought, scowling at the garment that drew tighter on his waist. Ragetti was right, it didn’t hurt, but he still hated the feel of it on his skin.
The feel of Ragetti’s hands though, was another matter entirely.
They had almost been free. Had Sparrow not shown up they would be. Royal Navy be damned, he’d gladly slit the Turner boy’s throat and spill his blood on the Aztec gold to truly feel Ragetti’s fingers on his skin and not this pale impostor that could not even be called a sensation.
Ragetti finished fastening Pintel’s dress, but his hands lingered.
Pintel turned to see eyes as turbulent with need as his own.
‘Just one more time,’ Ragetti said, his voice vibrating excitedly. ‘Then we’re free.’
Pintel placed his hand on Ragetti’s shoulder, already imagining the warmth and color returning to it.
‘Aye, Rags. Free to do everything we’ve been wanting to do.’
Ragetti gripped his arm in return, happiness radiating in his smile.
‘After.’
‘After.’
They let go, but only for now, for the promise lingered in the air. After the navy and the Turner boy were dealt with, they would be whole again. And they would touch. And taste. And feel.
Title: After
Author: Guanin
Summary: Ragetti and Pintel put on the dresses right before the attack on the Dauntless.
Rating: PG
Pintel cursed. That was the third time he’d tripped over that damnned skirt. The skirt was too long and the bodice was too tight and what the hell was he doing in a dress anyway? He cursed again, sending every execration he could think of on Bosun’s head. He looked at Ragetti, who seemed absurdly happy at the prospect of wearing a dress. As soon as Bosun had given the order, he’d wasted no time in shedding out of his clothes and pulling out the red dress from the chest. Pintel had stared as the first few inches of red fabric slid down Ragetti’s skin, but he quickly turned away. It was an old habit by now. Ten years of nothingness had turned even passion and desire into no more than ashes scattering at the back of his throat. But hope could awaken even the deadest emotions. He felt something spark in his belly, a slow fire that spread through his body until his skin felt strangely itchy and the dress seemed to be clinging to him with spicy needles. He yanked at the cloth that clung to his body, annoyed now at more than just the offensive garment.
‘Pintel, I need you to tie this.’
Pintel gave up and went to help Ragetti with his dress. He picked up the lacings at the back of the bodice and started pulling the garment closed. It didn’t offer much resistance. Ragetti was so slim that he didn’t need a corset for it to fit. Not that Pintel himself was wearing one; the dress itself was insult enough.
His fingertips grazed Ragetti’s bare skin as he worked. His senses told him nothing other than that he’s touching a smooth surface, but his heart almost beats again at the whisper of memories that spring from the contact. A warm, responsive body, salty-sweet to the taste moving under his, fervent gaze speaking a depth of emotion of emotion that needed no name. His fingers fumbled on the laces, accidentally prodding Ragetti’s spine.
Ragetti turned his head.
‘Pintel?’
Pintel grunted in reply, tying the strings in a tight knot.
‘How’s your dress coming?’
Pintel’s pride rankled at being reminded of the hateful contraption he was wearing and he spoke with all the contempt he felt for every frilly lace.
‘The damned thing won’t stay closed. Fucking bodice is too small.’
‘Well, it is meant to be worn with a corset, so it…’
Ragetti trailed off as he saw the glare that Pintel directed at him.
‘You better not be suggesting that I put on one of those damned things.’
‘No, I was just saying, is all. Here, I can fix it.’
He went to stand behind Pintel. Soon Pintel felt the bodice tighten around his torso.
‘It’s not so bad. I can get it close enough.’
‘Do you have to jerk it like that?’
‘I have to get it closed. It doesn’t hurt.’
He’s like a woman playing dress up, Pintel thought, scowling at the garment that drew tighter on his waist. Ragetti was right, it didn’t hurt, but he still hated the feel of it on his skin.
The feel of Ragetti’s hands though, was another matter entirely.
They had almost been free. Had Sparrow not shown up they would be. Royal Navy be damned, he’d gladly slit the Turner boy’s throat and spill his blood on the Aztec gold to truly feel Ragetti’s fingers on his skin and not this pale impostor that could not even be called a sensation.
Ragetti finished fastening Pintel’s dress, but his hands lingered.
Pintel turned to see eyes as turbulent with need as his own.
‘Just one more time,’ Ragetti said, his voice vibrating excitedly. ‘Then we’re free.’
Pintel placed his hand on Ragetti’s shoulder, already imagining the warmth and color returning to it.
‘Aye, Rags. Free to do everything we’ve been wanting to do.’
Ragetti gripped his arm in return, happiness radiating in his smile.
‘After.’
‘After.’
They let go, but only for now, for the promise lingered in the air. After the navy and the Turner boy were dealt with, they would be whole again. And they would touch. And taste. And feel.