Found Adrift — The Pirate King (mature) (Patreon)

Nine fingertips roam the skin of your stomach.

You close your eyes as warm fumes kiss your eyelashes and warmer lips kiss the side of your neck. Each touch sends a wave of slow sparks down your spine, like molten rock rolling down a grass hill, which makes your limbs tense and your fingers clench on the edge of the deep bathtub.

You tilt your head to the side, giving those lips further access, and The Pirate doesn't waste it. You feel his breath on your pulse point, and then teeth nip at your jaw before his scolding tongue soothes the sting. He peppers your jaw with open-mouthed kisses, each like a fever dream, as his hands float underwater, caressing your waist, your stomach, and your ribs. His nails scrape the underside of your breasts, and you bite your lower lip as finally, he... brings his hands down again, massaging your belly once more.

You moan in frustration and feel his lips widen into a smirk. "What plagues you?" The Pirate asks beside your ear, breath warm too, everything feels so warm. There are shapes swinging in front of your eyelids, colorful wales made of pink and blue that dance with each other. You'd think you were dreaming if his arms weren't so solid around you. "Tell me, and I'll slay it at once."

The Pirate stops his underwater caresses, placing his hands firmly on your hips. And then he moves his lips away, leaving you adrift in a darkened sea. Silence follows, deep and unforgivable.

He expects you to answer.

Frowning, you make the significant effort of opening your eyes. The quiet room blinks into existence, unraveling the sight of clear water lapping at your intertwined knees and tangled legs. You roll your head to the side, cheek pressing into his chest to fix him with a glare.

"You plague me," you accuse, your voice raw and tongue stiff. You let go of the bathtub to wrap your hands around his wrists, digging your nails into the sun kissed skin. "You and no one else."

The Pirate has the gall to chuckle. You feel the vibrations coming from his chest and crashing into your upper back, piercing your ribs, and spreading like a tide over your chest. And it's so unfair, then, how handsome he looks. His long, midnight-black hair is even darker when wet, and his beard isn't tied. Water droplets fall slowly down his sharp cheekbones, pooling at the sides of his smile.

His eyes, so deep they're almost as black as the moonless night, catch the glow of the candles. "No one else. I like the sound of that."

His voice, ringing with that barely there accent that tells of distant lands and foreign winds, sends a shiver down your back. It's unfair, how much you want to grab his face and kiss him until you wipe that cocky smirk off his lips and render him useless.

But as his hands tighten on your hips, holding you in place, and he leans his head forward, smirk widening until all his teeth are on display, you realize you're not the one in control. He's the one who guides the tides. "I'm not one to share my findings. Plagued or not."

You part your lips, waiting for his kiss, but he doesn't close the distance. He just smiles impossibly wider. "Are you going to keep talking forever?" you ask, trying to sound defiant. "The water's getting cold."

"Hm, don't worry about keeping warm. I'm here," he says, one hand coming up to grab your chin. He turns your head around until you face the wall again. You feel his lips back on your shoulder, lightly grazing a path up your neck and stopping right behind your ear. "Scooch forward."

His beard tickles you, but you shiver at his tone. The command is clear and calm, and you instinctively do as he wishes. You lean away from him, leaving the support of his chest to sit in the middle of the bathtub. "Good lass," The Pirate praises, and you flush at how good it feels. "Now, stay still."

You bite your lip, eyes closing again in anticipation. You're left there for a moment, feeling the water lapping at your skin, brushing in gentle motions your heated nerves. Your breasts feel taunt and heavy, and your core tightens, but there is only silence. What is he doing? You want to turn around, to challenge him, to grab him...

Stay still.

But you don't. You curl your hands on your lap, eyes squeezing tighter.

"So very good." Comes his voice, deep and praising and like honey to your ears. But even sweeter than honey is the touch of his strong hands, finally back on you. "It's not often one finds a worthy treasure. We seek them, of course, it's in our nature. Pirates and booty go together like booze and bad decisions."

You're not exactly listening. You try to, but he strokes your shoulders and down your arms, palms firm and rugged. When he takes a wet cloth and begins to wash your back in soothing motions, you lose the capacity for speech altogether.

"But, once in a while, there it is: a glint of gold amongst piles of rubble. Stinking, awful, terribly bland rubble, might I add."

The Pirate sets the cloth aside to run a fingernail down your spine, sending a thrill through you, then he begins to massage your shoulders and neck with his fingertips. You feel the stump on his left thumb and can't help the drawled-out sigh that leaves your lips as he presses firmly into your flesh. Back and forth, up and down, all over your body.

"But the troubles don't end there. A treasure like you, found adrift, is always coveted by many others. Like seagulls screeching at a fishing vessel, they circle what glints, lusting after what they don't deserve."

Gently, he pulls you towards him again until your back rests on his broad chest. You lay your head on his shoulder, your faces side by side. You can feel his bear tickling you as The Pirate slips his hands around your belly then slowly, agonizingly slow, he brings them up and cups your breasts.

"Ah," you gasp, your fingers clenching at whatever they can find. The Pirate chuckles, but you're deaf as he rolls your nipples between his fingers. The shock is almost electrifying. He runs his fingers across the base of your breasts, and up again to fondle your nipples until they feel like they might burst into flames. Your whole self feels like combusting. Your skin wants to jump away from you, and there is a pressure so stark on your lower stomach that it almost hurts.

"So, there we go. We fight like dogs, and may the best man win," he whispers between nibbles on your shoulders and neck. "I've been told I carry a big ego, but even I can admit that for a while, I wasn't sure I'd be able to pluck you."

Eventually, he moves his hands to your hips, then down to the sides of your legs, over your knees, and up your inner thighs. The path is alight with heat, sinking into your skin, sending tendrils up your spine and to the center of your core. You burn all over, your lips parted and chest heaving, but even air is stolen from you when he cups your cheek and bends forward to claim your mouth.

His kiss is hot and searing and entirely possessive. The Pirate's tongue sweeps over yours, making your head swing and your thoughts spin, and you're in the middle of a storm when his knuckles brush your lower lips, the ones between your legs.

"Please." You don't know what you're begging for. You just don't want him to stop.

"But I did," The Pirate says against your mouth, his lips shaping the words against yours, bending them, molding them too to his will. "I did pluck you, treasure, and now I get to claim you."

From the haziness of pleasure, his face comes into focus. He's staring at you, eyes boring into yours, and you don't know what to call what glows in them. You just know it could burn were you to get too close.

But you were never afraid of fire.

"Then do it," you say, grabbing his hair at the nape and jolting him towards you. "Do it," you gasp into his mouth.

The Pirate smirks.

The hand between your legs shifts, fingers gentle and careful as slowly he pushes them inside you. Thumb circling your bundle of nerves, the other arm holding you as you shudder.

"You feel softer than I dreamed. I wonder how you’ll taste."

You hear his voice from far away, for you swim again amongst the stars, head thrown back, drowning in a sea of pleasure.