the Dalaverse

Request #1 for linaelyn: Gillette/Anamaria. Which was...interesting, to say the least :) The Jolly Mon is not in it, but there is a fond reminder of her.



Detente


Anamaria was reluctant to leave her new beauty at anchor, but she’d a sudden craving for red wine and there was none to be had on board. She would only be gone for a few minutes, she reasoned, and she threatened the men on watch with dismemberment if anything happened in the interim.

A shout echoed from the edge of the dock. Several men had another at their mercy; he was struggling, but they’d already bound his hands behind his back and stuffed a gag in his mouth. Seeing that the ones in charge were her own sailors, she marched up to the scuffle with hands on her hips.

“What’s this, now?” she demanded, frowning. At the sound of her voice, the man flung his head in an attempt to flick bright coppery hair out of his eyes. His shoulders hunched and he went still, glaring at her.

“Caught ‘im tryin’ t’ sneak aboard th’ Madam, Cap’n,” said Hobbs cheerfully. He tapped the tricorn jammed onto his large head. “Navy, th’ bastard.”

“‘Fraid I must ask y’ to leave off,” said Anamaria, narrow her eyes at young Thomas as he poked curiously at his prisoner’s back. The man spun around and leveled what she knew was a stone-cold glare he’d learned from a certain commodore. “G’wan, scat,” she continued, shooing the men off.

“We was on’y trynna help, Lady,” Reynolds protested, his large, sad brown eyes blinking up at her.

Anamaria pursed her lips in a friendly manner, as close to a smile as she liked to get with this lot. “An’ I do appreciate the diligence, Reynolds. But I’ve made the acquaintance of this fella before, so I’ll deal wi’ him.”

The three sailors stepped back and tipped their hats respectfully before wandering off to seek drink and company in the port. The man straightened, lifting his chin, and gazed at her with one eyebrow raised.

Grinning, Anamaria held up her hands. “A moment. Just let me savor this for one moment.”

He grunted something into his gag, blue eyes going bright with fury. She sighed and drew a dirk from her belt, stepping behind him to snap the ropes. Before he could move his arms, however, she grabbed them and held them fast. “I rather like you gagged, Andrew,” she whispered in his ear.

He shook his head, wrenched both arms free. One hand went to the cloth stuffed in his mouth, the other grasped her waist as he spun around. “Then I wouldn’t be able to do this,” he said hoarsely after tearing the gag out, and he kissed her.

Anamaria chuckled into his mouth – feisty little lion tonight – and let herself be pulled against him. They were of a height so their hips fit neatly together, his rolling more desperately for the hardness she could feel against her belly. His hands drifted to her arse and squeezed, and that was quite enough of that.

She bit his tongue. When his ardor failed to cool, she curled her fingers in his hair and pulled.

He broke the kiss with a gasp and gentled his touch, though he didn’t turn her loose. “'Black Ana,'” he murmured with a smile, dropping his lips to her neck. “Is that really what you’re going by these days? Please tell me it wasn’t Sparrow’s idea.”

Ignoring his baiting, she nipped at the tender flesh of his earlobe. “You fool, why’d you wear this bloody uniform down ‘ere? ‘S dangerous enough wi’out –”

“I was in a bit of a hurry,” said Gillette acidly, rocking his hips to remind her. “It’s been too long, Ana.”

One of his hands had crept up to her breast, sliding beneath the cotton shirt and rubbing at her nipple through the linen band. She cursed softly in Spanish. Far too long, but damned if she’d have him out in the open like the whore some of them men had called her before she’d broken their noses. She had worked too hard to get to where she was, and she would not give it up even for him.

“A few minutes more won’t make a diff’rence,” she said, half-stern and half-apologetic. He groaned, but only clutched her a little as she pulled away. His interest was quickly taken by the ship floating sedately before them.

“So you’ve finally got your Jolly Madam,” he said quietly, studying her pride and joy. She knew he was looking for pointsof familiarity, and wondered briefly what he would have done if it had been taken from the English navy rather than the French. But it mattered not, as he soon discovered; failing to recognize the Madam, he snorted in dismissal. “Not much to look at, is she?”

Anamaria elbowed him in the gut, not too hard, since she could see that his eyes were warm where his voice wasn’t. “She’s got it where it counts, cabrón.”

As Gillette stepped onto the gangplank, Anamaria halted and cleared her throat loudly. He looked at her in surprise, then rolled his eyes, grinned, and took the step back.

“Permission to come aboard, my lady?”

She looked him up and down, arms crossed over her chest, enjoying the opportunity to make him squirm. Then she nodded crisply and held out her arm. He took it with the grace of a gentleman, and for a moment she truly did feel like a lady. She held the feeling close. Once they got to her cabin, lady and pirate both would be left behind, as would gentleman and captain.