Pirate huegail

“Spread your legs,” Gail says, and like all the women her parents told her not to become, Hue obeys without objection.

The mattress against her back is surprisingly comfortable for a criminal’s bed, so when Gail sits on her hips and pushes a palm down on her shoulder, the whine Hue makes isn’t from any pain. Gail must like it, if the haste with which she rips off Hue’s underwear is any indication. Gail makes quick work of her own clothes, efficient enough that Hue can’t help but think about how many women this pirate has brought to her bed before herself, but after a moment the distraction of Gail’s lithe torso and small, peaked breasts are enough to banish any self-pity.

“Have you ever been fucked by a woman?” In the few days she’s known her, Gail has never smiled, but there’s something close to one on her lips now; sharp and feral, like a hunting animal.

Hue shakes her head. Keeps her eyes locked with Gail’s. “I’ve never been with someone.”

And Gail /laughs/ at her, a shocked, raspy sound. “Liar. Daddy might’ve wanted you pure for marrying off, but you can’t fool me, little princess. You /love/ it.”

“Fine.” Hue exhales, allowing her gaze to shift now that the point has been conceded. With how she sits on her, Hue can see the vaguest pink between Gail’s legs, covered largely by neat black hair. If it weren’t for her corset, Hue would be able to /feel/ it against her stomach, surely wet and burning with an echo of a heartbeat, like her own. “I haven’t been with a woman as awful as you, certainly.”

“I should hope not.” Gail moves again, all lithe and tricky, until her legs are straddling just one of Hue’s, the pretty slit of her cunt pressed temptingly on her thigh. She coaxes Hue’s other leg up until it’s as high in the air as she can reach, which sends a shock of embarrassment and lust as one through her bones, so unrelentingly exposed. “That’s a good girl.”

When Gail slots them together, rolls her skinny hips in a languid circle, Hue gasps loud enough to wake the whole crew. A hand over her mouth helps that, and then Gail repeats the motion, the wet from their bodies creating slick sounds between them. The rhythm is shaky, kept only in time by the sway of the ship as she cuts through the sea, but the pleasure comes from the shock of it, how /easy/ it was for Gail to get her like this, how surely this won’t be the last night Hue spends in this bed. Gail could keep her on her knees, splinters in her stockings, and Hue feels as though she would say nothing but thank-you, perfectly ladylike.

When that hand moves from her mouth to her chest, pinching mean little marks onto her nipples, Hue feels the familiar shake of pleasure begin in her thighs and set alight every last nerve, Gail unrelenting in how she grinds herself against her, like she’s only a toy. She peaks with that thought, sobbing silently into her own arm as Gail fucks her through it.

When she looks up, Gail is lifting herself up on shaky knees and has her fingers between her own legs, other hand braced on the mattress by Hue’s shoulder. Gail’s climax is so much less of a production than her own; there’s a furrow to her brow, a soft, soft moan, and then a few drops of wetness on Hue’s thigh.

She aches to taste it, but her parents taught her that good ladies are always patient.