in which maggie and the priest get it on
Nov. 15th, 2013 02:09 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
smackenzieShe stood up and held out her hand. "Come, priest," she said. It was now loud enough in the tavern that he might not have heard her, but there was no mistaking her gesture or the expression on her face. He let her pull him to his feet and out of the tavern and through the streets to the inn. A quick stop to acquire a bottle, and they were up the stairs and into her rooms.
She did not even bother to open the bottle, now that they were inside where there was privacy and quiet, now that the two of them were alone to pull at each other's clothes and fall onto the bed in a flurry of hands and mouths. She had never been much for foreplay, and from the way the priest reached for her, she would guess that at least for tonight he was not particularly interested in it either.
There was a bit of a chill in the room - the fire had not been lit - and Maggie felt exposed on top of the blankets, but if the priest was not interested in foreplay he was not interested in climbing under the covers either. He kissed her mouth and touched her breasts and let his hands trace the line of her body down her side and over her hip to stroke her thigh. She pushed him onto his back and took him in hand, watching his face, flushed with rum and arousal, as his eyes fell closed and a surprised moan escaped his lips.
He was the first priest she ever had, but she could tell that she was not his first woman. She wasn't especially surprised - she had gotten the impression that he had been devout after he'd taken orders, but she knew there could be years between a man expressing interest in the priesthood, becoming an acolyte, and finally taking his vows for formal acceptance into the ecclesiastical brotherhood. And who could say what he had gotten up to before officially becoming a priest?
Besides, she had known enough men of the cloth in her life who had taken mistresses or even just occasionally slept with women (or even other men) in defiance of their holy celibacy. So to find that her priest - as Abna had called him - was no blushing virgin was no great surprise.
Nor was Maggie surprised to reach the conclusion that she was more experienced than he. She had been out in the world longer, after all, and while she was effectively celibate herself while at sea, she was far from prudish on land. And she was quite enjoying leading him through his own pleasure.
She knelt astride him, gave him a few more strokes for good measure, and then guided him inside her. He made no sound, but the expression his face was eloquent enough - surprise, pleasure, relief, even gratitude. She wanted to ask him what he was so grateful for, but then he put his hands around her waist and she thought they would both be better served if she started to move.
He was responsive and eager and she rode him enthusiastically, leaning down several times to kiss him and so he could fondle her breasts. Her moans and her words encouraged him and soon he was panting and moaning and bucking underneath her.
He reached his climax sooner than she would have thought, and after he recovered his breath she took his hand and directed him where to put his fingers and what to do with them, so that she could get her pleasure as well.
When it was over she climbed off him and lay down next to him, her arm across his chest and her head on his shoulder.
"Was that yes enough for you?" she asked, teasing.
"More than enough," he answered. He still sounded a bit breathless. She lifted her head so she could look him in the eyes.
"Did I wear you out, priest? So soon? I brought wine to fortify you if you need it." She grinned. He did as well.
"I believe I can find the energy for another round." His sentiment was somewhat ruined by a wide yawn. Maggie laughed and put her head back down on his shoulder.
"Will you tell me why you are no longer a priest?" she asked.
"There was woman."
"Was there." Somehow this did not surprise her.
"Indeed. She had red hair and gray eyes and she was strong and determined. She had a scar here" - he traced a line across the back of her shoulder, over a faint scar that indicated where she had been caught by a sword blade during her years fighting for the king-in-exile - "and here" - now he ran his finger over a pucker in the skin of her upper arm, where she had been shot by another woman who believed Maggie had slept with her husband (she hand't) - "and she was an amazing, beautiful, driven woman."
Maggie was sobering up but she must have been more tired than she had thought, because she had to think about what he was saying for a minute.
"Do not fall in love with me," she finally told him.
"Did I say - "
"I am a pirate, priest. I will always love my ship and the sea more than I will love you." She could not look at him. She had grown to like him but she did not see herself falling in love with him, and she knew that to love a pirate - to love anyone who made his or her life on the water - was to court disappointment and heartbreak. "I have plans - great plans - and you may come with me if you wish, but they - " She lifted her head to look at him again. "I am sorry, priest."
He said nothing for a few minutes. She put her head back down. She could feel his chest rise and fall under her arm. She did not return his feelings, nor did she really want to, but very briefly she wished she could.
"What are your great plans?" he asked eventually.
This, she could talk about.
"I am going to raise a navy," she said almost dreamily, thinking of the ships she would be able to command and the demands they might make and the power they would have. "A pirate navy. We will be the terror of the southern seas, and when we have made a name for ourselves that will strike fear into the hearts of ordinary men, I will sail that navy north and offer it to the king-in-exile, and we will win back his throne from the Usurper. And I will have my lands back, my title, my hall."
"So you will be Lady Maggie?"
"Margaret. I was Margaret then." She felt her mind drift back to her days in the Royal Navy and the Naval Academy before that, and even farther back to when she was young and her mother was alive and her world was simple. Her father's tenants had doffed their caps as a sign of respect, and she had associated with the children of her parents' friends and relatives and other aristocratic families. Her world was secure, her life straightforward and safe. Her rooms were well-appointed, her clothes well-made, and she could go where she wanted for whatever reason she wanted, and there was not a bounty on her head. No one had reason to fear her, and she had nothing to fear.
She wondered if she commanded any respect now. Fear, yes. Obedience, sometimes. But respect? Perhaps.
"Could you go back to that life?" the priest asked, pulling her out of her reverie. "After your years in piracy. Would you really put aside your captain's coat and hat and your sailor's breeches, and exchange them for a court dress?"
"That, no. As a captain in the Royal Navy I was allowed to wear a version of the captain's uniform cut to fit me. My very formal uniform was a military-style dress, and the only difference between that and the other captains' formal uniforms was the full skirt rather than the breeches. I had the jacket, the ribbons, the epaulettes, the bars on my sleeves. I had a hat. We were quite a sight, the full complement of us standing in ranks before the king, awaiting his blessing. I was very proud to be a naval officer."
"Would you go back to that? To a royal navy? You would have to take orders from someone else."
"But I could not be voted off my ship by my own crew." She grinned against his shoulder. "I already serve the king-in-exile in my own way. To serve him officially would be no hardship."
The priest did not say anything. Maggie shifted her body until she was lying on top of him. She pushed his hair back with both hands and kissed his mouth.
"I will be a great captain," she murmured. "You will be able to say that you knew me when I was but a landless pirate marauding around the islands. You may say that you slept with Captain Lawton when she was Red Maggie, when she had nothing but her ship."
"You have more than just a ship, Maggie."
"Do I." Her voice was teasing, but his was not.
"You have gold and, and furs, whatever you took from the ships you captured, and you have a loyal crew. You are determined. You have a plan."
"And I have a priest." She grinned at him, wide and bright, unable to resist, and then ducked her head to bring their mouths close. "Tonight, at least."
"I will love you if I choose," he murmured against her lips. "You may direct your crew as you will, but you cannot tell me what to do."
"No?" She rubbed against him. His breath hitched. "You do not want me to tell you to touch me here, kiss me there, do this or that to make me gasp with pleasure? Shall I let you work it out for yourself?" She gave that a thought. "Oh, yes, I think I shall." Now her grin was wicked. "I have given you pleasure, priest. Now it is your turn to show me."
She was not wrong that he was less experienced than she, and his efforts to please her were fumbling and tentative at first, but he was determined to find out what would make her gasp and moan, as if he had a point to prove. He made a valiant effort but she ultimately had to show him.
But once he had an idea what would please her, he went at it with gusto, enthusiastically if not especially skilfully. They paused to open the wine and drink it, and then went back to each other.
"You taste of wine," Maggie murmured against the priest's mouth. She licked at his lips. "I like it."
"I can tell."
words: 1768
total words: 22,105
She did not even bother to open the bottle, now that they were inside where there was privacy and quiet, now that the two of them were alone to pull at each other's clothes and fall onto the bed in a flurry of hands and mouths. She had never been much for foreplay, and from the way the priest reached for her, she would guess that at least for tonight he was not particularly interested in it either.
There was a bit of a chill in the room - the fire had not been lit - and Maggie felt exposed on top of the blankets, but if the priest was not interested in foreplay he was not interested in climbing under the covers either. He kissed her mouth and touched her breasts and let his hands trace the line of her body down her side and over her hip to stroke her thigh. She pushed him onto his back and took him in hand, watching his face, flushed with rum and arousal, as his eyes fell closed and a surprised moan escaped his lips.
He was the first priest she ever had, but she could tell that she was not his first woman. She wasn't especially surprised - she had gotten the impression that he had been devout after he'd taken orders, but she knew there could be years between a man expressing interest in the priesthood, becoming an acolyte, and finally taking his vows for formal acceptance into the ecclesiastical brotherhood. And who could say what he had gotten up to before officially becoming a priest?
Besides, she had known enough men of the cloth in her life who had taken mistresses or even just occasionally slept with women (or even other men) in defiance of their holy celibacy. So to find that her priest - as Abna had called him - was no blushing virgin was no great surprise.
Nor was Maggie surprised to reach the conclusion that she was more experienced than he. She had been out in the world longer, after all, and while she was effectively celibate herself while at sea, she was far from prudish on land. And she was quite enjoying leading him through his own pleasure.
She knelt astride him, gave him a few more strokes for good measure, and then guided him inside her. He made no sound, but the expression his face was eloquent enough - surprise, pleasure, relief, even gratitude. She wanted to ask him what he was so grateful for, but then he put his hands around her waist and she thought they would both be better served if she started to move.
He was responsive and eager and she rode him enthusiastically, leaning down several times to kiss him and so he could fondle her breasts. Her moans and her words encouraged him and soon he was panting and moaning and bucking underneath her.
He reached his climax sooner than she would have thought, and after he recovered his breath she took his hand and directed him where to put his fingers and what to do with them, so that she could get her pleasure as well.
When it was over she climbed off him and lay down next to him, her arm across his chest and her head on his shoulder.
"Was that yes enough for you?" she asked, teasing.
"More than enough," he answered. He still sounded a bit breathless. She lifted her head so she could look him in the eyes.
"Did I wear you out, priest? So soon? I brought wine to fortify you if you need it." She grinned. He did as well.
"I believe I can find the energy for another round." His sentiment was somewhat ruined by a wide yawn. Maggie laughed and put her head back down on his shoulder.
"Will you tell me why you are no longer a priest?" she asked.
"There was woman."
"Was there." Somehow this did not surprise her.
"Indeed. She had red hair and gray eyes and she was strong and determined. She had a scar here" - he traced a line across the back of her shoulder, over a faint scar that indicated where she had been caught by a sword blade during her years fighting for the king-in-exile - "and here" - now he ran his finger over a pucker in the skin of her upper arm, where she had been shot by another woman who believed Maggie had slept with her husband (she hand't) - "and she was an amazing, beautiful, driven woman."
Maggie was sobering up but she must have been more tired than she had thought, because she had to think about what he was saying for a minute.
"Do not fall in love with me," she finally told him.
"Did I say - "
"I am a pirate, priest. I will always love my ship and the sea more than I will love you." She could not look at him. She had grown to like him but she did not see herself falling in love with him, and she knew that to love a pirate - to love anyone who made his or her life on the water - was to court disappointment and heartbreak. "I have plans - great plans - and you may come with me if you wish, but they - " She lifted her head to look at him again. "I am sorry, priest."
He said nothing for a few minutes. She put her head back down. She could feel his chest rise and fall under her arm. She did not return his feelings, nor did she really want to, but very briefly she wished she could.
"What are your great plans?" he asked eventually.
This, she could talk about.
"I am going to raise a navy," she said almost dreamily, thinking of the ships she would be able to command and the demands they might make and the power they would have. "A pirate navy. We will be the terror of the southern seas, and when we have made a name for ourselves that will strike fear into the hearts of ordinary men, I will sail that navy north and offer it to the king-in-exile, and we will win back his throne from the Usurper. And I will have my lands back, my title, my hall."
"So you will be Lady Maggie?"
"Margaret. I was Margaret then." She felt her mind drift back to her days in the Royal Navy and the Naval Academy before that, and even farther back to when she was young and her mother was alive and her world was simple. Her father's tenants had doffed their caps as a sign of respect, and she had associated with the children of her parents' friends and relatives and other aristocratic families. Her world was secure, her life straightforward and safe. Her rooms were well-appointed, her clothes well-made, and she could go where she wanted for whatever reason she wanted, and there was not a bounty on her head. No one had reason to fear her, and she had nothing to fear.
She wondered if she commanded any respect now. Fear, yes. Obedience, sometimes. But respect? Perhaps.
"Could you go back to that life?" the priest asked, pulling her out of her reverie. "After your years in piracy. Would you really put aside your captain's coat and hat and your sailor's breeches, and exchange them for a court dress?"
"That, no. As a captain in the Royal Navy I was allowed to wear a version of the captain's uniform cut to fit me. My very formal uniform was a military-style dress, and the only difference between that and the other captains' formal uniforms was the full skirt rather than the breeches. I had the jacket, the ribbons, the epaulettes, the bars on my sleeves. I had a hat. We were quite a sight, the full complement of us standing in ranks before the king, awaiting his blessing. I was very proud to be a naval officer."
"Would you go back to that? To a royal navy? You would have to take orders from someone else."
"But I could not be voted off my ship by my own crew." She grinned against his shoulder. "I already serve the king-in-exile in my own way. To serve him officially would be no hardship."
The priest did not say anything. Maggie shifted her body until she was lying on top of him. She pushed his hair back with both hands and kissed his mouth.
"I will be a great captain," she murmured. "You will be able to say that you knew me when I was but a landless pirate marauding around the islands. You may say that you slept with Captain Lawton when she was Red Maggie, when she had nothing but her ship."
"You have more than just a ship, Maggie."
"Do I." Her voice was teasing, but his was not.
"You have gold and, and furs, whatever you took from the ships you captured, and you have a loyal crew. You are determined. You have a plan."
"And I have a priest." She grinned at him, wide and bright, unable to resist, and then ducked her head to bring their mouths close. "Tonight, at least."
"I will love you if I choose," he murmured against her lips. "You may direct your crew as you will, but you cannot tell me what to do."
"No?" She rubbed against him. His breath hitched. "You do not want me to tell you to touch me here, kiss me there, do this or that to make me gasp with pleasure? Shall I let you work it out for yourself?" She gave that a thought. "Oh, yes, I think I shall." Now her grin was wicked. "I have given you pleasure, priest. Now it is your turn to show me."
She was not wrong that he was less experienced than she, and his efforts to please her were fumbling and tentative at first, but he was determined to find out what would make her gasp and moan, as if he had a point to prove. He made a valiant effort but she ultimately had to show him.
But once he had an idea what would please her, he went at it with gusto, enthusiastically if not especially skilfully. They paused to open the wine and drink it, and then went back to each other.
"You taste of wine," Maggie murmured against the priest's mouth. She licked at his lips. "I like it."
"I can tell."
words: 1768
total words: 22,105
