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“It’s just, before we got the Urca gold, we didn't know just how stressful it would be to just protect the damn thing—”
“Jack.”
“Hmm?”
“Why the fuck do you got to talk so much?” Anne finished tying the rope around his wrist with a sharp yank as Max put a soothing hand on her shoulder. “Thought the three of us was in here to take our mind off things and here you are running your mouth.”
Jack craned his head back to look at her, grumbled and rested his head back on the pillow. “Well, if it bothers you so much, I suppose you could gag me.”
Anne paused, breath catching as Max's fingers continued to glide across her shoulder, rubbing circles there, with soft kisses following the pattern of her fingers up the side of Anne’s neck.
“That is not so hard to arrange,” Max murmured in Anne's ear. “Would you like me to fetch something for him? Would that please you?”
Between Max’s kisses and the way her hand was sliding down over Anne’s belly towards her cunt already aching for Max’s fingers, Anne managed to just nod, tightening her grip on Jack’s hips. Max pressed one more long kiss to Anne’s shoulder and climbed off of the bed.
Jack squirmed indignantly under Anne’s hands pressing him down. “Wait, Anne, I meant that as a joke. Anne. Anne!” Jack tugged at the ropes on his wrists, but they were tight enough to hold him—always said he liked it that way after all. “Darling, don’t be ridiculous. I promise I won't talk. I’ll keep my mouth shut. I’ll be good, I swear.”
Max let out a giggle from the other side of the room. Anne watched her, in a trance—the way her sheer robe showed the curve of her hips in the soft candlelight, and how when she turned, the fabric barely disguised her breasts.
“Jack Rackham claiming he will not talk?” Max teased with a mischievous brow raised at Anne. “I do not believe I have seen such a thing, have you?”
Max climbed back on the bed, softly embracing Anne from behind, placing something into her hand. The gag was a ball connected to a leather band, and Anne figured it would stop Jack from making most noises aside from his ridiculous moaning.
Jack grumbled into the pillow. “Darling, is this really necessary?”
“See, you're still fucking talking.”
Jack craned his head to the side again and glanced at the gag in her hand, gaze softening with arousal. “Christ.”
“It is best to do as Anne says, yes?” Max murmured.
Anne tugged Jack’s head back by his hair, and Jack responded in a typical fashion to the rough treatment—breathing hard, arching back, pretending the whole fucking thing didn’t arouse him greatly. Ain’t like he was talented at pretending.
“Open up." After a moment, Anne added, “Oh so now you can keep your mouth shut?”
She brushed her fingers over his lips, pressing lightly, waiting for him to give in to the temptation. Always liked her fingers in his mouth while they was fucking. Jack opened his mouth to capture her fingertips with a moan of relief. He let her push her fingers deeper into his mouth and then sucked on them like he would a cock, groaning as she slowly dragged them in and out. His eyes fell closed, brow furrowing, as he let her push her fingers so deep he should have choked if he wasn't used to it. He sighed around her fingers like he was grateful for it.
“Fucking hypocrite is what you are,” Anne whispered. “You know that?”
When she pulled her fingers out if his mouth and held up the gag, Jack made a disgruntled sound. “Why are you so mean to me?” he asked pointedly. “Wait, no, don't answer that. You're going to say ‘don't act like you don't like it’ and that much is true.” He took deep breath.
“Wider,” Anne prompted.
Jack let his jaw fall open and Anne secured the gag and pulled it tight, drawing out another, louder moan from his throat.
“Is that better?” Max asked quietly. Her hips pressed behind Anne’s, and Anne could feel her breasts, soft and full, against her back. “It seems to me he should be punished a little more for his transgressions. Strike him there.”
Jack made another indignant sound, trying to see what Max meant before Anne grabbed another fistful of his hair and pushed his head back down.
Once he was still again, Anne brought her hand down hard on his ass. If Jack was trying to act indifferent about it, the breathless appreciative moan he gave out wasn't exactly fucking convincing.
The second strike of her hand send a jolt through Jack's body—he gripped the bedframe and breathed hard around the gag, mumbled something that sounded like “Jesus fucking Christ.”
“Fuck would the crew think if they saw you like this?” Anne asked quiet in his ear. “Fuck would the other captains think?” Jack might even like that. She’d always figured him to want a voyeur. Seemed to get a hard-on just thinking about other people thinking about him. Jack groaned in response, then again with the next strike of her hand.
Max's arms circled Anne's waist. She breathed hard in Anne's ear and moaned as she kissed her neck again, like she was imagining herself where Jack was, like she liked the thought of it. It made Anne's heart pound, and made her ache more for Max's fingers and the heat of her mouth on her neck, made her whole body feel hotter.
Jack's skin was turning pink where Anne had struck him over and over. He made a choked sound around the gag as her hand came down once more. Hey lay there squirming, pulling at his bound wrists. She half wanted to hear what he wanted to say—he would be babbling now if it wasn't for the gag, probably begging for her to fuck him already.
“I think he has waited long enough,” Max whispered, her voice breathless. She reached for the harness lying beside them on the bed, then kissed the side of Anne's neck, pressing in snugly behind her. “You have practice with this, yes?” She fastened the harness around the back of Anne's hips. “I can only imagine you have become quite skilled with it.”
Heart hammering against her ribs, Anne watched Max's slender fingers reach around her waist to trace the leather, then smooth oil along the shaft of the wooden cock. Each motion of her fingers brought the harness against Anne’s clit and made her breathe a little harder, and grip Jack’s hips a little tighter.
Max slid her hands up Anne’s waist, one arm circling her to pull them snugly together.
“Show me how good you are with this, ma chere.”
Jack breathed faster as Anne brought the head of the wooden cock between his cheeks. Then Anne moved her hips forward deep into him and he breathed out a sigh, groaned as she began to move, slowly, pushing down on his lower back.
That Jack didn’t mind be fucked like this with Max watching—fuck if Anne understood it. Maybe he got off on that somehow, maybe he just wanted it so bad he didn't give a shit. Anne furrowed her brows, looking down at his arched back, his head craned to the side. He moaned around the gag, saliva running out of the corner of his mouth onto the pillow. She rocked her hips forward harder and Jack groaned desperately, mumbling something into the gag, clenching his hands in the sheets.
“Yes like that,” Max whispered, moving her hips with Anne's. She continued to kiss Anne's neck in a way that made Anne lose track of almost everything else. With the feeling of Jack under her and Max pressed behind, Anne could barely think. Max continued to lay kisses on her skin and moaned quietly with her mouth on the side of Anne's neck. The sound of it was fucking gorgeous, sending a shiver through Anne. Max breathed harder with each roll of Anne's hips, again as if she were the one in Jack's place. Her hands stroked up Anne's back, around her shoulders and over her breasts, rubbing Anne's nipples until Anne gasped.
“Imagine it was me beneath you,” Max murmured in Anne's ear. Her hands opened to cup Anne’s breasts. “Holding my hips like you're holding his. Have you thought of this before?”
Anne was the one who moaned now, picturing Max spread beneath her. It was all the response Max needed. She pressed her lips to Anne’s ear again, her words breathless. “Because I have thought of this.”
Another moan escaped Anne’s lips as she tightened her hands on Jack’s hips, imagining Max’s full hips under her fingers instead, imagining that she was looking down at the cascade of Max's soft curls falling across her arched back.
Max's fingers moved across her breast, down her sides and behind her, dipping between her legs to her throbbing cunt. Max's kisses on her neck turned to nips and bites as Anne thrust her hips forward then arched back into Max’s fingers. She was so wet now, coming apart under Max's skillful fingers. She gripped Jack harder and thrust her hips down roughly, groaning at the feeling. Max sucked on the sensitive skin on Anne's neck where her teeth had left a mark.
Then Max reached forward to hold Jack's hips and pulled them hard back against Anne, and they all moaned as one. Anne could feel herself getting so close. Max’s lips on her neck, the warmth of her body pressed close, her fingers pleasuring them both, and the feeling of the harness rubbing against her as Jack’s body gave with each thrust of her hips—
She hit her climax, and as it flowed over her she gradually stilled. She could feel Max’s wetness against the backs of her thighs. Jack lay beneath her, his body slack, eyes closed, groaning quietly around the gag.
Max undid the harness around Anne's hips and lay it aside, then embraced her again from behind.
Anne unfastened the gag and slowly took it out of Jack's mouth, then untied his hands. He lay there as he caught his breath, soothing his abused lips with his tongue, stretching his cramped wrists and rubbing the marks left by the ropes. At last he rolled over onto his back and caressed Anne's thigh softly with one finger. His hair was damp, stuck to his forehead, his face flushed.
“Darling,” Jack mumbled, “that's quite a number you did on me. Jesus Christ.”
He looked up at her for long moment. Max began to kiss her neck again, and Anne saw the same look come into Jack's eyes—the one he'd given her when he found her in bed with Max that first night, told her all he'd ever wanted was for her to be happy.
Jack looked at her tenderly another moment. Max began to slide her hand down the front of Anne's stomach and Jack sat up slowly, wincing, and then gave Anne a wink. “I think that's my cue.”
"Tired already?" Max asked, and Anne could practically hear the little smirk on her lips.
Jack merely sighed and narrowed his eyes at her. "As much as it pains me to say, I lack the stamina you two have. Besides, I think we all know the direction in which our little triumvirate, so to speak, is headed.”
Wasn't long ago Anne had asked him to watch her back in here. Max had been their partner, but not like she was now. Anne wondered at what point she'd started to trust her, at what point Jack had started to trust her. More than that, at what point Jack had recognized what this was becoming—this thing Max had brought out into the light. What it meant for Anne, and that it would mean something entirely different for him and Anne. It wouldn't be like before.
Partners till they were in the ground—course he felt the same. Hadn't said it, but Anne knew he did.
Jack looked at her softly, communicating this to her with just a look. He got up stiffly, pulling on a robe and raising an eyebrows at Max. "I leave you in Anne's very capable hands." He pressed a small kiss to Anne's forehead and caught her slight smile as he pulled away, returning it with one of his own. “Goodnight, darling. Darlings?”
Jack closed the door behind him, and Anne felt the hairs on the nape of her neck stand on end.
She’s alone with Max now, just like they had been that first night, but not since. Her skin prickles under Max's touch. It's a yearning she'd felt since the first time they'd kissed, but back then it had been like a spark and now it's grown into a full-blown fucking wildfire. Her stomach turns over in nervous anticipation.
Max's hands rub Anne's hips, slipping a different harness around her now, one with a narrower shaft. Her hands wander over Anne's back, shoulders, down to her breasts again. Anne's heart hammers.
“Fuck, Max, I want to see you.”
Max moves around on the bed in front of her, slowly letting her sheer robe fall from her shoulders. The candlelight flickers warmly on her skin and her knowing smile. Anne breathes out a sigh, looking at her the way she'd wanted to look at her that day outside Max's room, letting her eyes linger on Max's breasts and trail down her stomach to the place Anne wants to kiss most.
Max leans in and kisses Anne, cupping the back of her head. Then she lays across Anne's lap on her stomach, and Anne follows the line of her back, her full hips, her ass, her legs, begins to trace one finger up the back of her thigh. Max lets out a little “oh” as Anne's hand palms one cheek, rubbing back and forth.
“Like I did with him?” Anne asks, breathless.
Max gives a little laugh. “Yes. Though I have fewer transgressions to apologize for, no?”
Max lets out a little gasp at the first strike if Anne's hand. She clenches her hands in the sheets, rubs her hips down against Anne's leg with a whimper. Anne brings her hand down again, and Max quivers, groans, breathes a bit harder. With another slap, her skin is turning pink—Anne rubs out the warmth of the strike with her hand.
Max groans again and arches her back—Anne can see how wet she is as she spreads her legs slightly, opening like the prettiest flower Anne's ever seen. Anne wants desperately to taste her. It ain't fair, Anne's being driven crazy just watching her, ain't sure if she's allowed to touch her yet, but she can't remember a time she needed anything so much. She bites down on her tongue.
She brings her hand down hard on Max’s skin once more and Max gives a little squeak, arches her back again. Anne rubs the heat out of the place her hand had fallen, massaging, breathing harder as Max moans under the touch.
Anne bends down to kiss her back then, breathing in the scent if her hair, letting out a breath that sounds too damn near a whine. “Fuck, Max…” She gives in to the need, slips her fingers down to meet Max's wetness, and sighs as Max sighs. She feels the wetness returning between her own legs, and the ache building there.
Anne always had Jack, when she was too afraid to admit what this was. Thought he needed to be in here to watch her back because Max couldn't be trusted, but Max ain't got no one to do that for her. She trusted Anne from the beginning—makes no sense.
“Fuck,” Anne gasps again, rubbing her fingers back and forth between Max's wet folds, feeling Max moan and writhe—then she takes her knife from beside the bed and lifts it slowly to Max's throat, hears her breath catch, then pushes her chin up slightly with the blade.
“Tell me why the first night you was never scared of me, when I held this to your throat,” she whispers. Max pushes her hips back against Anne's fingers and then fucking giggles.
She squirms onto her back, pulling Anne down swiftly for a deep kiss that leaves Anne speechless like she's been stunned. The knife lies forgotten in Anne’s hand—Max deftly takes it. When they pull apart, Max traces the tip down Anne’s neck, pressing light against her skin.
“The answer to your question,” Max murmurs with a smile, “I was not frightened because I knew you were more frightened than I. Standing on the edge of the precipice, afraid to jump off."
“Fuck you talkin’ about,” Anne whispers. The knife-point tickles her skin up under her jaw, making her shiver, then drifts down, resting above her breast and her hammering heart.
“Afraid to fall,” Max whispers. “You know what they say about falling in love.” She holds the flat of the blade against the skin over Anne’s breast. “They say it's as fast as a knife to the heart.”
Max's words go to her head like wine. Anne feels them tilting over the precipice. Her heart has stopped, and she doesn't know if she should speak—fuck, she’s afraid that if she speaks it will break this delicate thing made of moonlight and murmurs of pleasure that hangs on the night breeze between them, half-formed and full of possibilities.
Love—she thinks Max knows by the way she smiles at Anne, as if she knows all of this and will protect the thing growing between them until it can become strong enough to be spoken into words.
Anne drowns in Max’s dark eyes, the sweat glistening above her breasts, the way her belly moves as she breathes, and lower still, the hairs that guard her sex, and the wetness between her folds slick against Anne’s fingers.
Fuck if Anne knew if she'd ever been in love. With Jack it was like something old and strong and worn that would weather the worst storms. Comfortable, sturdy. The fucking had been good, but nothing like it was with Max.
With Max...
Max kisses her again, choosing for her—they will not speak anymore. Not yet. The knife clatters to the floor again.
Max reaches down beside Anne’s fingers to touch herself, guiding Anne’s fingers deeper inside her. Anne feels hot all over, watching her, feeling her heat, wet and slick and perfect. Then Max guides the shaft down to replace their hands, guides Anne's hips forward slowly to pull it into her—they both groan together.
They kiss again as Anne starts to move her hips. Panting, Anne pulls back. She closes her lips around Max’s hard nipple, then kisses the underside of her breast, exploring the swell of it with her tongue, then the other. She can feel Max's gooseflesh under her mouth even though it's hot as hell in here, and Max's skin is hot to the touch. She shivers, savoring the taste of Max's skin on her tongue.
Max's fingers move over her breasts, her shoulders, down to her hips, tugging at the harness, making Anne gasp as their bodies come together hard. They’re kissing again, Anne’s hands on Max’s breasts, squeezing. She rubs Max's nipples with her thumbs until Max whines, then Anne spreads her fingers over her breasts again—they fit perfectly in her hands, so soft as she squeezes again.
Max closes her eyes, mouth falling open silently in pleasure as she arches up into Anne's touch. She tangles one hand in Anne’s hair, gripping her now soft, now rough, rolling her hips into Anne’s thrusts. Max grips her so tight her fingernails dig into Anne’s skin. She bites Anne’s lip, sucks on the tender bite mark—
Anne can feel them getting closer with each thrust of her hips, harder and more desperate than the last. Max’s fingers slip down between them, her other hand still gripping at Anne’s hair as they come faster and faster towards the climax, breathing hard between quick kisses, panting against each other’s lips. They're right on the edge, Anne feels like she'd dripping wet already, and it's almost too much to bear as she rocks her hips forward hard, watches Max arch back—
Max comes first, breathing out a blissful sigh, bringing Anne after with her fingers rubbing down beneath the leather of the harness, pressing against her clit. They sigh into each other's mouths as the waves of pleasure flow and flow and flow and eventually start to ebb into a hazy feeling of elation.
After they put the harness aside, Anne kisses down Max’s belly, licks between her folds and tastes her, loses herself in the wonder of Max’s taste and smell.
It’s much later into the night when they finish, drenched in pleasure. The air still smells like sex. The candles are almost burned out. Anne lays her head on Max's breast, places her fingertips in Max’s upturned palm and strokes the skin there in small lazy circles.
A long time ago she thought she wasn’t right in her head about Max, fretted and worried about it when they wasn't together, convinced herself it was something that ain't real. But when she’s with Max nothing had ever felt more right, more certain. In this time, in this place, she knows this is real.