Uncanny-M- Beckett/Elizabeth
Title: Uncanny
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Cutler Beckett/Elizabeth, Beckett/Weatherby
Word Count: 529
Rating: M
Summary: LAS challenge one, Beckett tells Elizabeth about an old lover
She was so like her father, in the way she protested the very idea at first, but it wouldn’t take him long to get her on her hands and knees, stripped of her pride and her drive to self-preservation. Prettier than the man who raised her, that was for sure, Beckett thought as he walked around her, slowly, drinking her in, and no just her form, but the cold, paralyzed fear. Her face was hidden in the shadows of her hair. Perhaps she’d been crying. No. She wouldn’t. Weatherby never did. He would sooner drift off to somewhere else in his mind than give in to Beckett’s games. Giving one’s body was not nearly as painful or dangerous as giving up one’s mind. The Swanns were a strong breed, in that way.
He let the light smirk play over his lips. “You bear and uncanny resemblance to a lover I once had.” he said clearly, his words eaten by the carpet that she gripped to keep her mind at ease. She was somewhere else, a forest near Port Royal where she’d played as a child, peering in the window of the blacksmith’s to see that boy, on the deck of the Pearl, William at her side. Anywhere but here. She couldn’t help the insult that slipped out of her mouth.
“I can’t see anyone taking you as a willingly as a lover.” Elizabeth lowered her head further now and felt him kneel next to her.
Beckett put a hand on the small of her back, pressing down so her rear would push up, more prominent for him, further exposing the areas of interest for him. He slapped her thigh hard enough to leave a mark, as one punishing a petulant child. Weatherby had scars from such treatment, but Elizabeth wasn’t ready to take a riding crop or a naval cat yet. A simple hand would do for her, and she whimpered and whined as he did it again. “You will watch your tongue, Swann.” he said.
He moved behind her now, speaking of the lover he alluded to. What he’d loved. What he’d hated. How Beckett was so pleased with him, because he would never break, never cry, never beg for mercy. He hurt Elizabeth as he took her, though he knew it would hurt more, once she processed what he had said, and allowed her mind to come to the present.
She tried not to think on where she was, though she heard every word coming from behind her, hating how he emphasised words he liked by thrusting into her cunt harder. She didn’t know why he was telling her about this man he had been with years ago.
He told Elizabeth how he would beat this lover, make him bleed. His fingers bore into her flesh, jerking her hips down and forcing himself into her anus, hissing at the tightness. “Weatherby was just as tight as you when I was first with him. So much resistance. Eventually I’ll wear you down like I did your father,” he said.
She gasped, her eyes finally filling with tears and a single wretched sob wracked her body.
Beckett just smirked.
Pairing(s)/Character(s): Cutler Beckett/Elizabeth, Beckett/Weatherby
Word Count: 529
Rating: M
Summary: LAS challenge one, Beckett tells Elizabeth about an old lover
She was so like her father, in the way she protested the very idea at first, but it wouldn’t take him long to get her on her hands and knees, stripped of her pride and her drive to self-preservation. Prettier than the man who raised her, that was for sure, Beckett thought as he walked around her, slowly, drinking her in, and no just her form, but the cold, paralyzed fear. Her face was hidden in the shadows of her hair. Perhaps she’d been crying. No. She wouldn’t. Weatherby never did. He would sooner drift off to somewhere else in his mind than give in to Beckett’s games. Giving one’s body was not nearly as painful or dangerous as giving up one’s mind. The Swanns were a strong breed, in that way.
He let the light smirk play over his lips. “You bear and uncanny resemblance to a lover I once had.” he said clearly, his words eaten by the carpet that she gripped to keep her mind at ease. She was somewhere else, a forest near Port Royal where she’d played as a child, peering in the window of the blacksmith’s to see that boy, on the deck of the Pearl, William at her side. Anywhere but here. She couldn’t help the insult that slipped out of her mouth.
“I can’t see anyone taking you as a willingly as a lover.” Elizabeth lowered her head further now and felt him kneel next to her.
Beckett put a hand on the small of her back, pressing down so her rear would push up, more prominent for him, further exposing the areas of interest for him. He slapped her thigh hard enough to leave a mark, as one punishing a petulant child. Weatherby had scars from such treatment, but Elizabeth wasn’t ready to take a riding crop or a naval cat yet. A simple hand would do for her, and she whimpered and whined as he did it again. “You will watch your tongue, Swann.” he said.
He moved behind her now, speaking of the lover he alluded to. What he’d loved. What he’d hated. How Beckett was so pleased with him, because he would never break, never cry, never beg for mercy. He hurt Elizabeth as he took her, though he knew it would hurt more, once she processed what he had said, and allowed her mind to come to the present.
She tried not to think on where she was, though she heard every word coming from behind her, hating how he emphasised words he liked by thrusting into her cunt harder. She didn’t know why he was telling her about this man he had been with years ago.
He told Elizabeth how he would beat this lover, make him bleed. His fingers bore into her flesh, jerking her hips down and forcing himself into her anus, hissing at the tightness. “Weatherby was just as tight as you when I was first with him. So much resistance. Eventually I’ll wear you down like I did your father,” he said.
She gasped, her eyes finally filling with tears and a single wretched sob wracked her body.
Beckett just smirked.