Warning! This is an NSFW fic written for @merruschka so if you’re not looking for lemon, its time to look elswhere!
It was a beautiful dress, the kind Pheobe had always adored; pale blue silk, so fine it almost seemed liquid, and underskirts of taffeta and lace that looked like sea foam. Tight in the waist with a rigid bust, it pushed her breasts up in a way that was enticing without being vulgar, leaving the silver and sapphire necklace to rest at their meeting point. It complemented her milky skin and pale hair. It made her neck look long and graceful… but how she hated it. A gift from her Uncle that had been pushed on her as much as this Prince. This dress. This necklace. He had sent them with a note;
‘Neice, wear this and remember that you are Our jewel.’
It was probably the most precious thing in the room, if not for the sea pearl tiara her uncle had gifted her to wear with it. In short, it was resplendent.
And she would have thrown it into the fire if given the chance to leave with Vasco.Tears welled in her eyes, not for the first time that day, and she sighed tilting her head back to force them to stay where they were.
That was not to be, she knew. He was being promoted and she… well, she would be tied to Tír Fradí forever as on ol melawí, though she would have to relinquish her place in its governance. Shackled to Jean-Paul as an unenthusiastic bride. The future she had always known was coming, of course, but somehow it felt so much worse than she imagined that it would. After knowing Vasco and feeling the warmth of his love it was like being torn from the comfort of a warm bed and thrust into a blizzard.
She had already started to freeze. The smile that should have played on her lips at the thought of Vasco was smaller, more brittle. He would be receiving his promotion about now, decked out in the ceremonial garb of the Nauts. He would be devilishly handsome, of course, and sad that she could not see his moment of triumph. It was perhaps for the best, considering the choice words she had for Cabral, but it would have been nice to see him in his glory.
The candles started to burn low - the sun was setting behind the thick, velvet curtains. Her maid fussed around her, touching her perfectly coiffed hair, moving it here and there until she sighed and proclaimed Pheobe perfect,
“Thank you, Effie,” she said with a bright smile, but the woman in the mirror was a stranger. A cold, perfect stranger with no heart or feelings - how different from Pheobe, who was coming apart at every seam. Her mind seemed to claw at the confines of her world, desperate for a way out that didn’t involve Jean-Paul. Desperate for more time.
Effie shuffled nervously, “Are you ready, Miss?”
“I am ready,” Vasco nodded to Admiral Cabral and stepped forward,
“I bet you are,” she said with a wry smile, “too much time ashore is no good for a Naut, and we have been all the lesser for your absence Captain Vasco.” The gathered Nauts murmured their agreement, “we Nauts don’t make much of pageantry, of course, we’re not nobles.” A scattering of laughter tickled him. “But such occasions as these deserve a little,” Admiral Cabral said and pulled a sheaf of paper from her jacket. Vasco’s heart pounded in his chest, “it is customary to give a Naut a few things when they become Fleet Commander. One is a new tattoo, of course, and the other a new flagship, but for those Nauts who were Sea Given, there is also the gift of knowledge. While few of us regret our lives at sea, this burning question of who we might have been can gnaw away. Fill us with doubt and questions. This last gift, Fleet Commander is not for your skin or your pride, but your soul.” She held out his file, the file he already knew the contents of, thanks to Pheobe, and when he took it he found that it did not matter less because of that. He held his past in his hands and smiled,
“Thank you, Admiral,” Vasco said, “thank you.”
“You’re welcome, Fleet Commander.” She said and then, after a few moments of silence, the gathered Nauts cheered, clapped, and began to congratulate him. They were brothers and sisters, of course, and their hands were familiar, but his eyes were constantly pulled back to the lights of the city. Somewhere in that mess of buildings, Pheobe was beginning to ready herself for the long process of giving herself away, unwillingly, of course.
After the merriment was in full swing, he pulled Cabral to the side and gathered his courage,
“I wish to stay as a captain in Tír Fradí,” he said before it could fail, “I know the land and people better than anyone and-”
“And you do not wish to leave your Dainty behind, though you cannot have her.” Cabral grunted and when the silences grew too long, she sighed, “fine - it’s not like I can change your mind. Do as you wish, Vasco. You may as well keep the ship… the Seahorse has been reassigned already.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t,” Cabral said, waving her hand dismissively, “we need people with your experience here.” Vasco nodded and turned to leave, “she’s getting married?”
“Yes.”
“That’ll be a sad life for a young man, Vasco,” Cabrals’ voice faltered, as if she pitied him, “the role of backdoor man doesn’t suit you.”
“I have no other choice… not one I can live with.” He shrugged, “I’m going to watch the Seahorse leave. Make my excuses?”
Cabral sighed and nodded, turning away before he could say anything else.
One court presentation was the same as the next, Pheobe found to her dismay. The only difference was the way that Jean-Paul stared - aggressively, as if he was watching a dog he already owned being petted by sore losers. It chafed already. She rubbed her pale arms, comforted by the force of Kurt a few steps behind her. His presence was tangible in situations like these; when the only other men of steel were under his command. The courtiers parted before him like water around a boulder, and she was grateful when he guided her carefully out of their reach,
“Do you want me to kill him?” He asked as the music reached an ear-splitting crescendo and the gaggle of poorly coordinated dancers screeched with laughter. The drink was catching up with everyone, but not Jean-Paul. He just stared,
“Yes,” she snorted, and Kurt gave that familiar laugh. There was an edge to it, however, a kind of growl that told her he felt he was being pushed out. The truth was, she couldn’t guarantee Jean-Paul wouldn’t remove him as her personal guard when they married. She would have little say and no support if she protected him - who would risk marital disharmony for a servant, the court would whisper unless they were bringing him in the back when their husband looked away? There were already too many rumors about Vasco; she could not become the Governor, the Princess, known for bedding two of her servants, even if it was only true on the tongues of gossip mongers and political enemies.
The clock wound down, the sun started to set in earnest- Vasco was nowhere to be seen, and with every second that passed she looked more and more like a lovesick girl that had been stood up. Her head turned whenever the doors opened. Her heart raced when the side of a tanned face looked too familiar.
Surely he would not leave without bidding her farewell? Her eyes lighted on the glass doors leading to the garden and an idea started to fizz in the back of her mind,
“Kurt?”
“Green Blood?”
“Wait five minutes then announce you are going to find me. Wait ten minutes or so then announce I am ill and have returned to my quarters.”
“As you wish, where shall I meet you?”
“You won’t,” she said, “take the night off.”
“If you think I am letting you walk about the city alone in a damn silk ball gown wo-”
“Do as you’re told, Captain.” She put as much force as she could muster into the words and stalked away. Apologies could come later, she decided as she slipped into a quiet corner and made her way into the garden. Vasco was all that mattered now.
The streets were busy, and for a few moments, she worried that Kurt had been right. Somehow the fine gown had the opposite effect, however, and people shrank back Pheobe as she hurried through the streets towards the port. A few people called out, but their words were indistinct. The dress, so fine and airy, started to catch around her legs as they pushed faster in the gloom. Eventually, she gripped fistfuls of the skirt and ran headlong to the gates. The Nauts guarding the port gates called to her, hands outstretched as if to stop her, but Pheobe sped past without hesitation.
There was a familiar silhouette on the horizon, and she would not stop until she saw where it lay. She staggered for a moment on the uneven cobbles of the port and kicked off her fine satin shoes, grabbing them even as she tried to keep moving.
The ache of her feet was almost too much to bear by the time the stone gave way to wood. She made it to the silty sand of the beach, feet thudding, before she accepted what was plain to see; the Seahorse was leaving. Already beyond the ability of the strongest swimmer, it looked as if it was being swallowed by the sinking sun. The world went numb and silent.
Had he even hesitated? Or just pulled up the gangplank and accepted their fate?
“No,” she whispered and it was not her voice, but the voice of a scared young girl who had been left in the darkness without light or comfort, “no.”
Pheobe De Sardet stood like a ghost in the fiery setting sun, so pale it seemed that she couldn’t really be there. She shone, as she always had, and yet it didn’t matter. This was the line, the edge of her ability; her beauty and charm and wealth, her intelligence and power, could not compete with the inevitable truth: she was to be married, and he was gone. She had known it had to come… but it hurt more than she had expected it to.
The cold, numb feeling lasted only a few moments; a wellspring of rage started to bleed through, bringing warmth back to her extremities. With teeth bared she drew back her arm and threw her shoes at the shivering waves. They were accepted by the water, of course, but took none of the anger with them into its cool depths. She grabbed a stone from the sand and threw it hard enough to make her arms ache, infuriated by how short its flight was. She wouldn’t be satisfied, she felt, unless she could hit his stupid, handsome face with one of the projectiles. Overcome with frustration, she flopped to the surf and sand and stifled a scream,
“I hate you,” she gasped at the shrinking ship, “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you - how could you leave me? Like this? You didn’t even say goodbye.” She pressed her hands to her face and sobbed. The waves lapped at her knees, salty water soaked up, up, up to her thighs, her hips - the material would be ruined, she knew, but her legs refused to work. “You left me here alone,” she whispered as her hands fell back to her lap. The force of her desolation deafened her to the sound of feet on the sand behind her.
The Seahorse may have been a toy of a thing compared to his new ship, but she looked fine and sweet on the water all the same. Vasco had smiled as she pushed off from the dock, and felt lightness in his chest for the first time in a long time. It was as if something old and heavy had been slipped from his shoulders and he was floating free at last. It should have been no surprise, then, that Pheobe arrived like an angelic spirit just as the sun became fiery. She failed to see him perched on a stack of crates; her eyes were focused on the Seahorse as she slipped up to the very edge of the horizon.
Pheobe De Sardet was a strong woman, though anyone could have been forgiven for thinking otherwise when they looked at her. She looked like spun glass, but there was steel in her bones. Which was why her meltdown left him speechless; the sobs that left her body seemed to break his heart, each one causing the same pain as the last. Had he seen her cry since Constantin died? If he had, he realized, it had not been like this. She wept, cried out about the unfairness, about how he had left her. And because there were no words, he stood and approached her. When he was a foot from her
shaking shoulders, Vasco realized that simply gripping her shaking shoulders was likely to end badly for him. So he cleared his throat and gripped the first words he could find,
“I fancy those slippers cost more than the ship you threw them at, Tempest,” he said, and she whipped to face him with wide, wet eyes,
“Vasco?”
“Hello Tempest, missing me already?” He asked, and found the answer in the way that she launched herself into his arms. She trembled against him, and Vasco found it hard to think beyond the need to hold her; Pheobe’s whimpers became sighs and eventually she sniffed,
“You never came to the ball,” she said with that pert, sharp edge that signalled trouble,
“And you’ve ruined a perfectly good meringue, whatever will we do with you?” Vasco tugged the wet fabric of her skirt when she looked puzzled and was rewarded with a bright peal of laughter,
“Yes, I suppose I have.” A cloud crossed her face. “Don’t you like the dress?”
“I have no head for fashion, you know this,” he said, but added, “though you look beautiful in everything you wear.” She started to smile then frowned again.
“Why are you not on the Seahorse? Has something gone wrong?”
“Quite the opposite.” Vasco grinned and turned her, hands firm on her bare shoulders,
“Look over there,” he pointed at the Sapphire, “do you see that three-mast ship?”
“Yes,”
“She’s mine,” he said, and she clapped her hands to her mouth,
“Oh, Vasco she’s gorgeous!”
“She’s called Sapphire.” It had been his little homage to her, the woman he wanted but could never have. No noble could take this Sapphire from him. It had seemed a hollow gesture at the time, but when Pheobe looked up with shining eyes he found them full of love.The kiss was feather-light, at first, and sweet as sugar, but she gripped his shoulders hard and pulled him down to nip at his underlip. It was the kind of kiss that should have happened behind closed doors, of course, but Vasco couldn’t bring himself to regret the way her breasts pressed to his chest and her body trembled in his hands,
“I thought you had left,” she said and sobbed, “the promotion.”
“I turned it down,” he said, “I will have to take journeys, of course, but they will be weeks not months, and never years.”
“I never wanted you to sacrifice this for me,” she whispered,
“I know, and that’s why it was so easy to do,” Vasco said and kissed her forehead, “ The ocean has my soul, but you have my heart… I could not separate the two, and luckily the ocean stretches to Tír Fradí. And anyway, I would miss your pampering too much, Tempest, who else will bring me fruit in bed and massage my back with such grace?” Pheobe tutted and slapped his shoulder, then her face turned somber,
“You will see the open sea again,” she whispered, “I promise if I have to renounce it all, I will-”
“Hush, love,” he whispered, “I have a ship, I have your love, what else do I need?”
“I love you.” She said simply and then flushed. “I know that means little-”
“It means the world.” He whispered and they fell into silence.
It wasn’t true, of course; he needed her. All to himself, he needed to look at men in the street and know that they knew he was her man. That was the one thing they could not have, of course, and so he swallowed the need. When they returned to the ball it would be over. He would love her from painful closeness and never touch her again, not unless they were behind closed doors. Hidden from the world. He would have sold it all to kiss her one more time, just as she had kissed him now - to do it in public with no fear of being seen. “We should clean you up and get back to the ball,” he said eventually, clearing his throat, but Pheobe shook her head firmly and her curls bounced.
“I have a better idea,” she said with a grin, and gripped his hand firmly in hers.
“Oh?”
“Show me your ship, Captain,” she said it as if it were a simple request, but her eyes traveled the length of his body and burned as they did so. Vasco gaped for a moment but recovered quickly. There was no hesitation on her face; she looked as cool and calm as a mountain lake - like a woman afraid of nothing at all.
Pheobe was terrified - her entire body trembled with the knowledge of what she had just set in motion. It was a sweet terror, however, filled with anticipation and exhilaration. Like the fear of jumping from a high cliff into calm waters. The fear was of letting her feet leave the earth and nothing more. Vasco’s broad, warm hand felt impossibly hard in her own as they snuck into the depths of the ship. Like it was made of sun-warmed oak. His presence at her back was overwhelming. The height and stature that had caught her attention at first now daunted her; how would it feel to be trapped under him? She had thought about it often enough, but now that the time had come… her stomach ached pleasantly, her legs shook under the layers of wet silk,
“Here, love,” he murmured at her back and a thick, strong arm reached over her shoulder to open a door to her right. The captain’s cabin, Vasco’s cabin, was grand by the standards of a Naut ship though not by the standards of high society perhaps. Pheobe stood on the threshold for a few moments longer than she had intended, taking it all in.
A sound on deck caused her heart to beat faster - they stepped inside and the quiet click of the lock seemed to fill the whole cabin. With the door closed the gloom was almost tangible,
“I’ll light some candles,” Vasco whispered and kissed her cheek before he shuffled past her. As the heavy material of his jacket brushed her hand, Pheobe gripped it and pulled him back, heart hammering hard against her ribs, and leaned up to kiss him firmly. In the darkness, she felt him more clearly; the broad, wiry bulk of his body, somehow slender and impossibly large all at once, and the surprising softness of his lips. And the smell of him. Pheobe gasped against his mouth before pulling away, but Vasco followed blindly, overcome by her, and they crashed against the locked door for a few moments. When Vasco pulled away, he made a low humming sound that seemed to come from somewhere deep in his chest,
“Careful, Tempest,” he murmured, breath hot on her face, “you’ll take me under.” That quiet, careful admission of weakness made her knees tremble and her stomach heave. A heavy, needy weight had settled between Pheobe’s legs. He crossed the room in a few, sure-footed steps and set about lighting the candles. When the room glowed with their soft light, Vasco turned back to her and smiled but did not move. In the haze light his kohl-lined eyes were luminous, seeming to glow beneath the long, dark lashes and heavy brows. There was a tugging sensation, almost, as if a taut string existed between them and they were fighting to break it.
Vasco severed it with a short laugh and crossed the space between them in two steps, scooping her into his arms. Pheobe giggled and squirmed as he pressed fervent, feather-light kisses to her face,
“Are you certain?” He murmured in her ear as the kisses started to linger and his hand trailed down to her hip,
“Absolutely.”
The curve of his lips against hers made Pheobe’s head spin, but it was the way the hard bulge between his legs pressed against her hip, even through the fabric of the dress, that made her hands shake. She pressed a kiss to his Adam’s apple and sighed,
“I will make sure you have everything you could want here, Vasco, I do not-”
“Hush,” he silenced her with a soft kiss, “you are all I want… well, you and for this dress to disappear.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“It’s an eyesore and it hides your beauty,” he grumbled, tugging at the ties and silks with uncharacteristically clumsy hands, “how in the-”
“Here,” Pheobe laughed and showed him where each tie was with shaking fingers, feeling each layer of fabric as it dropped. When she stood in her damp linen underdress he grinned and reached out to pinch her nipple lightly through the fabric, making her gasp,
“Cold?”
“Oh, that is-” Pheobe tried to push him, but Vasco was immovable; he gripped her wrist and pulled her close, hands wandering over her body,
“Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” He whispered, voice shaking, breaths harsh,
“Many, I would imagine,” she teased,
“Sure enough, and imagine how many more since our… lessons.”
She blushed a fiery red, pale skin burning as he gripped the fabric of her shift and started to pull it up to her thighs, hips, and waist. When it was over her head, he dropped it lightly and touched the delicate necklace, the only thing she was wearing… if you didn’t count the earrings. With a sudden jerk, he broke it and tossed it to the side. The way he smiled was vulpine in nature; Pheobe took a shuddering breath and started to pull at the buttons and clasps on his clothes,
“You have the cheek to speak about my clothes,” she said, voice shaking, “these belts are - ah!” His hands wandered down to her hips and snaked around to squeeze the firm flesh of her rear. Vasco kissed her cheek before letting go to help her undo the belts and buckles. Her hands pressed to his skin greedily as it was exposed,
“You’re so beautiful,” she whispered and he let out a shaking chuckle,
“That’s my line,” he returned, and her face burned pleasantly. She knew she was beautiful to some men, not when others mocked her mark, her nose, her almost colourless hair. But it had never seemed to be of real benefit until Vasco. He made her feel as if she owned her beauty, rather than being owned by it.
When their naked skin pressed together, finally, without interruption, she was struck by his warmth. Vasco’s body seemed to burn with energy and life - the soft, relaxed muscles of his arms and stomach tensed and flexed as she ran her nails across his skin. He did not move when she reached to free his hair, pushing up onto the balls of her feet; the press of his body, the scrape of his hair as she reached made Pheobe shiver pleasantly. Only his eyes moved, flicking across her face as she ran her fingers through his hair and rubbed her nose to his,
“I love your hair,” she whispered,
“I love you.”
“I know,” she said with a giggle and a toss of her curls,
“Cheeky woman,”, Vasco snorted and scooped her up, tossing Pheobe lightly on to the bed before stepping back. With his hands on his hips, with no trace of shyness, he stared at her. His body brought the blush back to her cheeks; in the flickering candlelight it was clear, once more, how much bigger than her he was. A gentle finger trailed over her ankle, “show me what I taught you.” The thought turned that blush into a burn that spread throughout her body, a hot feeling so close to shame that she could not distinguish between the two for a moment. Then the burn became a warm tingle, and she bit her lip. The way his eyes dropped when she opened her legs, without shame or pretense, brought a grin to her lips; Pheobe ran her slim fingers up the smooth skin of her thighs and touched herself just as he had taught her. The pleasure was slow to come at first; he was so present, his attention so focussed, that she felt as if her body was being doused in heat and cold by turns. Then there was the first tickle; her body started to respond slowly but surely, and she felt her toes curl as the tentative wetness caused by their kisses became a shameless slick between her legs. Vasco grinned as her slow breaths became jagged gasps and when her clit started to throb and twitch, he crawled onto the bed beside her and let his hands travel over the bare skin of her legs. His lips followed until he nudged her hands out of the way and closed his mouth over the sensitive flesh between her legs. Pheobe gasped and lay back, body tingling with the sensations his skilled tongue brought to her. His hands were gentle as they stroked and massaged her hips, touched her stomach, and gripped her legs. Eventually, he broke away and looked up at her, eyes hazy with lust,
“May I use my fingers, love?” He traced a digit through the wetness of her slit,
“Yes,” Phoebe gasped, nodding, desperate for the release he had denied her twice already. His fingers entered her slowly, teasing her flesh and rubbing the most sensitive areas inside her as Pheobe squirmed and moaned, pale hair fanned out on the sheets as Vasco brought her closer to the edge by delicate increments. She wavered on the edge of the abyss for a few moments before he pulled her under.
She tasted like honey, like wine… like the sweetest fruit. But then again, she would; Pheobe de Sardet was never less than sweet. Her fingers twisted in his hair and tugged him closer as he brought her off for the second time, sucking and licking the quivering flesh between her legs. When he pulled away, his chin was wet and his cock was throbbing hard enough to make his head swim. How many nights had he dreamt of this? Too many, that was the answer. He sighed and pushed up to place one foot on the floor, reached down to stroke his cock without thinking,
“You’ll be the death of me,” he said and her hazy eyes flicked to him, then down to his cock - it twitched in response. Pheobe grinned, a devilish glint in her eye as she reached to grip his hand. Vasco gave in as she tugged him down then chuckled as she rolled them,
“I hope not,” she whispered and started to slide down his body, the milky tendrils of her hair scalding his sensitive skin as she went,
“Tempest?” He murmured,
“I want to please you,” she said, sparkling eyes focussed on his face,
“You do,”
“I want to please you now,” she said again,
“You are,” he said with a laugh and she rolled her eyes,
“I want to suck your cock, Vasco if it would please you?” The vulgarity from her mouth was almost enough to make him lose control. She smirked, knowing full well what she had done even as she trailed her tongue across hip bone. He nodded mutely - it was the only way to guarantee he wouldn’t make a fool of himself. Of course he did that when she took his cock between her soft, pink lips, anyway. The wanton moan was loud enough to make his face burn; she grinned up at him as she hollowed her cheeks. Her breasts pressed against his thighs, her hair spread across his legs; Vasco reached down to curl the strands around his fingers as she sucked slowly, taking as much of him as she could. He guided her hand to touch the rest and she gripped him firmly, working her hand and mouth in time. As his mind started to become fuzzy, a stray thought flitted through his mind - where had she learned this particular skill? The wet, soft sounds that filled his cabin hastened his rush to the edge, and as his grunts reached a fever pitch Vasco pushed her away gently,
“Stop, by the sea,” he gasped, “stop…” He pulled her up for a kiss, “where did you learn that, you minx?”
“Would you believe me if I told you I read about it?” She whispered against his cheek and Vasco snorted,
“I would, actually,” he replied and shuddered. He rolled to press her back to the mattress and nuzzled against her cheek, “wait here.” He crawled over her to the opposite side of the bed and reached into the bedside table, gasping and chuckling when she trailed a hand up his stomach from underneath. She stared at the cock ring with curiosity, but no recognition,
“What is it for?” She asked without hesitation,
“It’s for me,” he said and kissed her, standing to show her how he put it on, “to make sure I don’t lose my head like an untried boy and disappoint my lady.” She giggled,
“You couldn’t disappoint me,” she whispered,
“To ensure I don’t lose my head and spill into your sweet little cunt without warning,” he countered and tried to hide the smile when her shocked blush sent electricity through every nerve in his body,
“Well… I have been… drinking tea to make sure that would not be an issue,” she said carefully, “after some discussion with Síora.”
“Oh?”
“I was determined that you should have me first… even though…” she looked down, then her face set, “even if the marriage could not be avoided.”
“My clever girl,” he said, “are you sure this is what you want?”
“Yes,” she said, and then hesitated,
“What?”
“I just… will it fit?” Her eyes dropped to his cock and he chuckled,
“Yes, I promise you it will.”
“Will it hurt?”
“No, love, it should not hurt you - we have taken time to prepare you,” he said and slowly lowered himself to kiss her, “and we will take everything at your own pace. Yes?”
“Yes,” Pheobe nodded and pulled him close, slim fingers cool on his burning flesh.
He was like a God - tanned skin and taut muscles seeming to glow in the low candlelight. When he moved close to her, she felt the heat of his body again; it seemed to come in waves. His fingers curled around her face, pulling her closer until their lips brushed each other. Vasco took control with effortless grace, deepening the kiss until she was shaking and panting against his mouth. He swallowed each moan as he teased the tender flesh between her legs once again. Eventually, he broke away and drew a deep breath,
“Do you want to proceed?” His voice was hoarse but warm,
“Yes, by the Enlightened yes,” she murmured back and felt the warm waves of his laughter course through her body. He spread her legs with gentle hands and pushed her knees up as he leaned over her. The insistent press of him against her slit was almost maddening, but he moved quickly. The pressure gave way to a gentle push as he started to breach her. The wetness of her body was enough to ease the way. He was as good as his word; there was no pain. Only a gentle pressure that made her gasp as she stretched around him. He spoke softly to her as his hips gently pushed forward and when his thighs touched the back of hers, Pheobe gasped and whimpered, squirming to ease the feeling of fullness. Only when a shockwave of pleasure coursed through her did she realise that this fullness was exactly the point. Vasco grinned when she moaned and dug her nails into his shoulders.
He thrust his hips once, and there was a sharp pang of pain that made her whimper; Vasco stopped and murmured softly to her stroking her hair as she shuddered and adjusted,
“I am sorry,” he whispered, “I was too hasty.”
“Keep going,” it was all she could say, but she meant it. He obeyed with that irresistible grin and started to rock against her. At first it felt only like closeness to him, which was wonderful in its own way, but somehow it changed. When he pressed his forehead to hers and hooked his elbow under her knee the rocking started to take on a delicious friction that built on itself until she gasped and dragged her nails down his back and her voice broke free on its own, begging for him, for more, for harder, without her say so. Vasco pulled back suddenly, body shaking. He pressed a hand to her chest and then trailed it down to toy with her clit for a few moments before adjusting their position and lifting her legs, higher.
He started to snap his hips in a sharp rhythm that set charges off in her head and made her eyes roll in her head. The almost painful stretch of his cock was replaced with throbbing pleasure; he hit sensitive spots inside her she had not been aware existed. The rough warmth of his hands covered her breasts kneading them gently, pinching her nipples in a way that made her wriggle on his cock,
“Mother Sea you’re beautiful,” he growled and her body responded to that rumbling tone, “I can’t believe you want me,” he added, “but I am so glad you do.” He caught her lips and devoured her, hips maintaining their rough, hard pace. Her body, finally overcome by his ministrations, sang and hummed; Pheobe came for the third time and went limp under him. Vasco pulled away from her, letting her legs fall to the mattress, massaging her hips and thighs while he kissed her face and neck.
She swam in a sea of warm pleasure until his hands landed gently on her and guided her onto her side,
“Lift your leg for me, Tempest,” he whispered and slipped into the space behind her. Lifting her knee, Vasco lined his cock up with her slit and thrust gently into her. A firm hand on her hip pulled her back onto him, “how do you want me?” He murmured,
“Hard,” Pheobe gasped, “take me as you’ve imagined.” She turned to look at him, her tongue trailed across his jaw, “just like you’ve imagined when you’re alone.” He nodded and tightened his grip on her hips, pulling her back onto him even as he thrust into her, grunting and gasping. The growling breaths were animal, desperate… needy. Pheobe grinned, ecstasy making her wanton,
“Vasco,” she moaned his name as the slapping of skin filled the room. She reached back to grip his hip and ground down onto him, turning his growls to moans. Vasco faltered, pulling back; only when she turned did Pheobe realize he was fighting his own release, eyes shut tight. She licked her lips and grinned, pulling away. He whimpered and reached for her. She managed to evade his hand and took charge.
He was almost taken under by the way her cunt gripped him, almost massaging his cock, so she managed to slip away and play one of her tricks. Of course, he didn’t mind at all. She sat astride his hips like a conquering hero, and he was loath to disabuse her of the notion when she was smiling so pertly and her tits were within such easy reach. She slide down onto him as if she had done it a hundred times before. She braced her hands on his chest and set a punishing pace that made his eyes flutter shut. She squeezed his sides with her knees and started to bounce, breasts making a pretty picture as she did so. Vasco tried to focus on the pretty flush of pink that had crept up her neck and face as she took her time riding him. His climax came without warning; Pheobe gasped as she felt him spill, lips formed into a delicate ‘O’ shape. Their eyes locked and he pulled her down into his arms.
When she moved he spilled out of her; Vasco grimaced at the sudden surge of wetness on his stomach,
“That was wonderful,” she murmured,
“I know,” he said, grinning as his heart raced and hammered against his ribs. Pheobe tutted and pushed him, sitting to smack him playfully with a pillow.
“That is hardly the appropriate response,”
“And yet it is true… I am an artist,” he teased, reaching to tickle her soft flesh,
“I should leave and never come back,” she said, but she was smiling,
“I should tie you to this bed and never let you free, minx,” he growled and she squealed in delight,
“Perhaps, but what would we eat? And what would people think?” She raised her brows with a grin,
“What would they think of their Princess running off to bed a Naut?” He teased and she huffed, pretty nose wrinkling as she tried and failed to think of a pert comeback - which was rare. Instead, she nudged him, “Are you complaining?”
“Not at all,” he said and kissed her cheek firmly, as he pulled her close and dragged the blankets tighter about them.
A few moments passed before he realized her slim shoulders were shaking. Vasco pushed her hair from her face,
“Why are you crying, love? Did I hurt you?”
“No, no,” she sat up and wiped her eyes, “really darling, I’m happy… I was just thinking how different it would have been if…” she trailed away, “not all men are gentle. They… He would probably not have taken such care. Or any care.”
“I…” “He would have taken no care,” she said, and for a second her eyes were dull, “I’ve seen the aftermath of women who say no on their wedding night.” The thought jarred the last of the afterglow from his body; Vasco struggled to sit, holding her in his lap,
“Look at me,” he said, “Pheobe, look at me, my love.” Her eyes turned to him, “I will not let anyone else have you. Come hell or high water, you will be mine. Mine only. No man will hurt you.” She nodded after a few moments and leaned down to kiss him, letting him pull her back down to the bed and wrap them in soft blankets. The feel of her soft, warm body against his was as close to heaven as he had ever been, he thought, and as her heart started to slow, he stroked her back and started to drift. He was close to sleep when she whispered,
“Can we do that again?”
Vasco snorted, “I… now?” He asked and she squirmed to look up at him,
“Soon?”
“We could have a few glasses of wine and then…” he raised his eyebrows, “a little time is required.” Pheobe nuzzled his cheek,
January Patreon Reward Posting everything in one post because I’m very late on those and don’t want to clutter your dash :) Thank you for everyone’s patience!
For now just two slots for headshot portrait commissions, similar to the ones in the picture. If you’re interested, please contact me via mail at [email protected] and attach any necessary visual references for your character! (such as screenshots, faceclaims, artwork or other image references.)
I will get back to you as soon as possible and make a rough sketch. After you’ve approved of it, and I recieved your payment upfront via PayPal, I’ll finish your commission.
In case your character has complicated tattoos/accessories, there will be an additional cost depending on complexity. I’d prefer to draw OCs only. Artwork for personal use only.
I started playing Greedfall and we (my OC Gabriel De Sardet and I)are already in love with Vasco, even if he was a little bit rude with his “It’S A sHIp NoT a BoAt”
