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Captain Flint yanked at the ties that bound his wrists. His top lip curled under his auburn moustache, the hairs bleached bright from the sun but still meticulously trimmed.
Sitting astride his hips, you sneered at him in reply. "You wanted this."
The Captain growled out a displeasured sound, low from the back of his throat. "I wanted," he started through clenched teeth, eyes blaring, "a reprieve."
You canted your ear to your shoulder and held his hot gaze. Flint stared straight back. His thick, tawny brows arched, creasing a menacing vee between his sea glass eyes.
"You," you leaned forward, "wanted," dropped your voice, "this." You all but hissed the last word directly onto his heart-shaped mouth.
Flint's full lips parted and he blinked slowly as your breath fanned over him. He looked dazed, but for the briefest of moments. Coals burning white-hot soon returned to his eyes.
"You seek to slay me."
The words slithered off his tongue and down your spine. You reached between your bodies and fisted his swollen cock, his release already thrice denied.
You nudged the tip of his nose with yours and murmured low to match him, "You and I both know. The fearsome Captain Flint cannot be slain." You licked at his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue at the same moment you squeezed his hot, engorged dick in your fist—and he sighed, short and breathful. You continued, "The mighty Captain Flint is an immortal."
"You want to ruin me," Flint answered, snarling. Rumbling and breathing all over the words so they stretched, longer and even more seductive from the very way he rolled them around his mouth and off his gorgeously pink tongue.
"I want to see you come to ruin in the palm of my hand," you allowed, wrapping your fingers firmly around the thick, vascular length of him as you began a torturously slow stroke from root to bulbous tip.
Flint cried out as if he'd been struck, suddenly and sharply. His head tipped back against the pillows—sweaty, coppery strands on lye-washed white—and lifted his bearded chin and open mouth to the heavens. But as quickly as the outburst had overtaken him, so too all traces of it were almost gone. He quickly composed himself, sucking in a breath through gnashing teeth.
The Captain gritted out the words, "You wish to end me."
"End you?" You quirked a brow. You teased him further before you spoke again, pressing your thumb to Flint's leaking slit and swiping the pearlescent beads of desperation around the fat, mauveish crown. "Finish you, do you mean to say?"
The man beneath you huffed a breath through his nose. His calloused hands shook and furled tight in their bonds.
"Finish you off?" you hinted in a teasing whisper, stroking his cock with the tightness and the tempo that made him throb in your hand. "Bring you off?"
Flint's chest rose and fell with the tumult and ferocity of the sea during a storm. His breathing came harder and faster through his nose, and the tip of that perfect angle was flushed a delightful pink.
You breathed onto his pursed lips, "Make you shoot white—"
"God, woman," he hissed. The Captain's hips bucked under you, his body undulating and jolting yours.
You steadied yourself with your other hand, pressed quick and hard against his chest. He stilled at your touch, a learned behaviour, the man resigned to the illusory sense of helplessness you created for him to escape into. In Flint's mind, he could do nothing more than sweat while your first hand continued to work him over.
"What do you say?" you teased.
Flint grunted in refusal. Denial. Some last ditch, vain attempt at dogged determination.
You felt the weight of him in your fist. His long, thick cock. Heavier, stiffer, than before now. Close to the edge once more, then. Your hand flew along Flint's throbbing length, the heat radiating off his dick almost branding your palm.
"What do you say?" you repeated, firmer this time.
His crystalline eyes were screwed shut, brow furrowed. He swore, quietly, a sound just above a whisper tumbling past trembling lips.
You skated your palm across his chest and swiped your thumb over one pink, pert nipple.
Flint grunted.
Unperturbed, you took hold of the Captain's scruffy chin and let your thumb dip into his mouth. His slippery tongue met your digit instantly and his eyes flashed to yours, fierce and bright.
You cocked a brow, prompting him wordlessly as your hand slid quickly up and down his swollen cock, the length of him fat and pink and ready to burst.
The more Flint gazed into your eyes, the more his own turned heavy-lidded and glassy. You were unrelenting. You stroked his dick, squeezing the crown, as took your spit-slick thumb and grazed his other nipple.
The Captain's breath caught, and for a moment it seemed like the man beneath you stopped breathing.
Then, so quietly. Breathlessly. The word fell from his lips in a whispered confession.
"Please."
You stopped—everything. Withdrew your hands and leaned back to straddle him proper, sitting upright atop him.
Flint howled a broken sound. Muscles in his thick, solid torso clenched as he seized, pulling back from the brink. He pulled so harshly at his restraints that veins in his pink neck bulged, protruding like gushing rivers under his skin.
"You devil," Flint snarled. His jaw ticked. His green eyes narrowed at you in a filthy look.
You smiled, gliding your hands up his trunk and letting him feel the soft bite of your nails on the downward run. You revelled in what you'd reduced him to. It was written all over his body. His skin was so damn pink, flushed from forehead to the drooling tip of his pulsing cock.
"You wicked thing," Flint said lowly, nostrils flaring.
The name-calling stretched your simple smile to a sun-bright beam, because this was his tell. This was the moment you knew you had him. One more touch and he'd melt like a candle.
But maybe you could push it. Rules were made to be broken. You could test the limit, push and poke and prod and demand until there was a whole new world order. He was the one who taught you so.
So you licked your index finger in a very deliberate show, which his eagle eyes tracked immediately, and skimmed the pad of your finger down his slit and the long, fat vein that disappeared into his heavy balls.
Flint watched with wide, unblinking eyes as you leant forward slowly. You pursed your lips, perhaps preparing to wrap your lips around his head and suck his release right out of him. Flint barely breathed, his chest moving shallowly as he stared, transfixed.
When all you did was blow a breath against his heated skin, made too-cool by the thin track of saliva running down his shaft, the man snapped.
"Damn it!" Flint cried out, his ship's captain's voice booming. "England!"
The sudden sound shocked you but you were quick to act, as you'd both agreed to be whenever either of you said the name of that place.
You ripped off the ties at his wrists as you cursed inwardly. You'd misjudged him, and now you were sure to face some kind of consequence for it.
As soon as Flint was loose he grabbed your sides and flipped you over onto the bed, getting you underneath his solid frame and broad, freckled shoulders. His hips slotted between yours like the matching of two perfect puzzle pieces, the size and weight of him heavy and welcome between your spread thighs.
But it wasn't just him, meaning his body as a whole that fully enraptured you, but rather him, the straining erection that throbbed, hot, against the wet, swollen lips of your pussy.
You gasped his name - "James!" - as he braced himself on one arm and thrust his other hand down lower.
The Captain's eyes never left yours. You gazed at each other, both breathing heavier, as he sought out the spot where your body yielded for his passage, parting your glistening pussy lips with the head of his cock until it caught and sunk.
"James!" you said again, louder, but before you could say another word Flint spoke.
He said, "You force a plea from my mouth and yet you take more." As he said this, he moved his hips and guided his cock until your pussy swallowed the head.
You sighed, and he pushed his stiff cock further into your eager cunt. "You want more. From me," Flint said.
Back arching as he filled you out, you said blatantly, "I want everything you have to give me."
Flint no longer needed his hand to govern the push of his dick inside you. He quickly brought his hand back up and cupped one of your bare breasts as he finished the job with the angled slide of his hips alone, sheathing his erection fully within your hot, throbbing cunt.
"To what," he sighed when the connection was complete, "wild ends you drive me," he finished as he drew back quickly and pushed in sharply.
You moaned out loudly, and that's when Flint struck. He dove in quickly, pressed his lips to yours with urgency and kissed you madly. All lips and tongue and teeth and want.
You let him kiss you back into the pillows as his hips began their pistoning plunging rhythm. Wavy gingerish locks, darkened and piecey with sweat, fell into your face as he kissed you impossibly deeply, and fucked you just the same.
Flint hummed into your mouth every so often with short, softened grunts as he tasted your tongue and swallowed your spit.
Your hands clutched his sides, nails digging into flushed, freckled skin. Flint's hips hinged, driving with an almost mechanical precision to ensure the head of his cock kissed the same delirium-inducing spots inside your hollowed-out cunt.
When you soon felt too hot, when the lack of air made your lungs burn you tore from Flint's lips and cried out from the sheer bliss of it all.
But it only served to make the man more determined. Panting and huffing the most addictive sounds, Flint tossed his hair from his face and dove to your neck to kiss and bite your shoulder. He did this, right as he quickened his pace and drilled into your pussy faster, faster, starting to slap your bodies together.
The extra force made you sing and when you called out again, the Captain met you with a blissful groan of his own.
"You forgot something, didn't you?" Flint panted.
His scruffy bead was soft on your shoulder and his breath was hot on your ear. His pounding hips and the thick drag of his cock brought your blood to simmer in your veins. Pressure mounted in the pit of your gut—pooling, rushing hot—as he stuffed your cunt to the fullest you've ever felt.
The way only Captain James Flint could.
Mewling, you stammered, "Forgot what?"
Flint grunted. He licked at your earlobe then nipped at it, tripping a shiver that ran through you, all the way down around his plunging cock. He growled low in your ear, "Who am I?"
The answer rung in your head and bid you moan again, made you glaze Flint's dick even wetter with hot, slippery slick. Even just the insinuation of it—the very of idea of the words he's demanding of you was enough to trip your pleasure higher.
"Don't lose that tongue on me now, darling," Flint spoke softly in your ear, huffing and puffing. His words were becoming throatier, the exertion starting to wear, the effort of fucking you so good and deep that your slick gushed out around his driving cock.
"James!" You moaned his name and he groaned brokenly, his drilling hips faltering.
"Tell me," he breathed, "and I will make you cum around this fucking cock. And I won't stop until you shake for me."
You whined the words pathetically, shrill and half-mad for him.
"Yes," Flint growled, rearing back. He spat on his thumb and pressed the slick digit to your swollen clit, immediately slipping and sliding in sloppy circles. He repeated the words back to you, insisting on them, punctuating each one with a deep and pointed upward thrust.
"I. Am. Your. King."
Above you as he was—auburn hair fallen into his flushed face, freckled chest and arms flexing as he held your hip tight and worked your bud to bursting—he looked nothing short of divinely regal. So much so that the look of him, and the feel of him, forced hot tears to spring to your eyes, and when you chanted his name, some fell free.
A ragged sigh fell from Flint's parted lips and his brow softened.
"Cry for me," he encouraged, leaning forward. He switched his digits as he crowded you, now rubbing rings into your clit with the rough pads of two calloused fingers. This allowed him to kiss your tears away and lick the salt off his lips after.
The soft, swift press of his mouth was interrupted by only gentle words—"Cry, beauty. Cry."—which was a shocking contrast to the downright vulgar way he fucked you. Driving his dick into your squelching pussy and buffing your clit with wicked speed.
You were done for. You were done. So you let go.
Your moans rose higher and higher as your orgasm crested, and when the wave crashed you screamed. It was a pained and broken sound even to your own ear. Flint snarled and sneered as you came, watching your face until the very last moment he could stand it.
Flint's own orgasm finally bubbled over and he spilled inside you, rubbing your pulsing clit until you had to squeeze his arm and pull it away.
Flint gasped and groaned into your neck as he poured his release into your seizing cunt. It didn't end. He wrapped his hand loosely around your throat and tried to kiss the side of your neck as he unloaded into your over-slick pussy.
Just when he thought he was finished, every new contraction was sharp in the pit of his gut. His climax wrenched more and more of his spend until he was sure there was nothing left but a pitiful dribble leaking into you, but the clenching and seizing in his belly remained.
His sighs bordered on the dramatic, but you knew he couldn't help that. You entwined yourself around him—legs and arms entangling—and squeezed until his legs stopped shaking and his body stopped shuddering.
Flint held you tightly, pressing tickling kisses to your jaw as his breathing slowed.