#colonel william tavington

[malfoymanaged]

Can't believe I haven't posted these yet

[fakehusbandgarbagedump]

[dellamortte]

You know, it's an ugly business doing one's duty but just occasionally... it's a real pleasure.

[kylorengarbagedump]

Playing Soldier: Chapter 21 (NSFW)

Read on AO3. Part 20 here. Part 22 here.

Summary:

Words: 5600

Warnings: tavington is a secret munch, a mite of possessive language, two idiots swimming up the Nile

Characters: William Tavington x Reader

A/N: Co-written with @bastillia

Hello my loves! We're getting into the thick of it now, I fear! We have to say - coming from a fandom where our previous loves spoke very little, it's a massive change of pace to write a man who actually talks. And doesn't always say what he means. Hehehe.

Hope you continue to enjoy - Happy Valentine's Day, too. We love YOU and you are all our valentines (William Tavington polycule!?!??!) <3

Clink clink.

Still cloaked in the fog of sleep, you stirred, winced at the sun behind your eyelids. Water splashed, connected with skin, movement shuffled behind you.

Clink clink.

You pried open your eyes, rolling over in the bed, and spotted William standing over the basin. Clad only in his breeches, hair cascading down to his shoulder blades, he stared into the mirror as he guided a straight razor over his jawline. A swish of water, another swipe, and he tapped the edge of the blade on the porcelain.

Clink clink.

His eyes met yours in the mirror, and he cocked a brow. “I thought perhaps I’d need to call upon the coroner.”

“And indict yourself in my passing?” You sat up, cleared the croaking from your throat. “What gallantry.”

He did not fail, you noticed, to glance at your breasts in the mirror as the quilt fell to your lap. His gaze remained for only a moment before he shaved the other side of his jaw. When he said nothing, you surveyed the room. Nothing seemed altered from when you’d fallen asleep. You barely remembered sharing the bed with him at all.

You couldn���t decide if that disappointed you.

Muscles sore from your ride, you began to stretch, caught him stealing another glimpse of your body. The imbalance—him half-clothed, you fully nude—annoyed you. You spotted his shirt laid out neatly on the quilt, so you snatched it and threw it on before climbing out of bed.

William hummed, wiping his razor on a towel. “I will be needing that.”

You shrugged. “You will.”

You reached toward the ceiling with a groan, the sunlight filtering through the sleeves and silhouetting your arms. You wondered how the rest of your body looked, wondered if the curves of your hips and stomach glowed like the lines of your wrists and elbows. Feeling a stiffness in your hamstrings, you bent forward, your breasts swaying.

The weight of his gaze dragged over every inch of your flesh. It was not something you needed to see to confirm—but you peered behind you anyway and saw him staring. He regarded you like a snake would regard a mouse; like he ached to coil around you, squeeze the air from your lungs and then swallow you whole.

Your core tightened. Your breath hitched. You held his gaze and straightened, rolling your shoulders and curving your back until you stood tall.

It was impossible not to notice the powerful swell of his chest, of his shoulders—more impossible still not to let the gentle contours of his abdominal muscles lure your eyes down his body to the dark trail of hair that tapered from his navel to the waistband of his breeches. Water pooled in your mouth imagining where it led. Your eyes cut back to his, meeting twin slivers of limpid blue sky. You swallowed.

One display which had always perplexed you had been when the unmarried women of your village would mill about after church, pouting their lips and fluttering their lashes at the men. Now, in the span of one crashing instant, you understood. Now, you feared you might be at risk of performing any number of ridiculous behaviors if it meant keeping William’s attention fixed upon you.

To negate such a risk, you turned your back to him, bending at the hips to retrieve your stockings from the floor beside the bed. Heat stifled your cheeks. You were far too exposed as it was, and it was clearly impairing your judgment.

Clink clink clink.

You didn’t even hear him cross the room.

An arm hooked your middle and hauled you backward. You could barely utter a squeal before the world flipped, your head hit the pillows, and William slammed you down, caging your body beneath his.

“You may come to regret tempting me,” he said, his face hovering above yours, hair curtaining down to tickle your cheekbones. His tone was sinister, but searching his eyes, the only darkness you found there was desire.

“Oh?” A laugh bubbled up. You lifted your chin, peered down your nose bridge at him, and, in your best, most pompous affectation of his accent, said, “I doubt that.”

His gaze narrowed, a flash of satisfaction hidden within the withering mercy you found there. Jaw tensing, he palmed one of your breasts over his stolen shirt. When you hummed in response, his grip punished you, squeezing the tender bruises he'd gifted you the night before.

You gasped, squirmed, your eyes trained on his. He studied you, watched the discomfort contort your features, then tweaked your nipple between his fingers. Your back arched, you groaned, casting your arms around his neck in an effort to draw him closer. His attention flicked over your lips, and he attached his mouth to your throat.

Hips rolling, you sighed, your hands coiling into his hair. It slid like silk through your fingers, and you skated your nails across his scalp, shivering as he descended to your torso.

To your relief, William kept his more egregious markings below your collar, biting and sucking at the flesh he could uncover beneath the shirt. Lower he moved, lower, pushing the hem of the blouse above your waist, his expression sharpening the more of your body he revealed. His hands smoothed over your hips, squeezed, the flesh hilling between his fingers. His breath hitched. He stared.

“What?” An uncertain laugh caught in your throat. “Don’t tell me you’ve never seen one up close.”

William huffed. “Plenty,” he said, crushing you in his grip, earning a twist of your legs. Before you could complain, he groped at your ass, your thighs, marveling at the way it filled his hands. Like he was lost, captive somewhere distant, he murmured again, “Plenty.”

The timbre of his voice stilled your tongue. Heat flooded your face. Between your thighs, something pulsed, so deep and needy that you thought it might draw you into yourself.

A shaky breath escaped him. Instinct enthralled him. Jaw tense, William drove his teeth into the soft roll of your belly.

You squealed, scraping at his head, and he ripped your hands from his hair, pinning them to the bed before gathering your hips in his palms again. His mouth savaged you, sucking and tearing at your skin, pulling purple brands to the surface. You gasped, curled back into the pillow, undulating underneath him, your fingers folding into the sheets as your eyes squeezed out everything but raw sensation.

He moved further below your waist, marking every inch that infringed on his purview, groaning in his chest. The dip below your hip bones, then the fresh flesh of your legs, all of it tender and tempting to a man who had decided to devour you. Growling, William sunk his teeth into your inner thigh with such force you howled, fearing he’d found your femoral artery; but the soothing sweep of his tongue mollified you, settled you into a trembling moan.

Palms hooked beneath both of your thighs, hoisting them onto his shoulders, and you shuddered, mind spinning while he shifted to your other leg. He kissed up from your knee, burning a trail toward your center, your breath quickening the closer he drew. His breath brushed your folds, and you laughed, half-enraptured, head lolling along the mattress.

“What in God’s name are you doing?” you mumbled.

William kept his focus between your thighs. “Preparing to eat what is likely to be the only meal you’ll ever serve me.”

You laughed again. “Have I laid down with a cannibal?”

“Something of the sort.”

Another bite to your thigh—pain flushed to your toes—and before you could relax, his tongue traced your cunt.

“What the—” You jerked away, but he pinned your hips to the bed. “What are you—” Another slip of his tongue across your folds, this time dipping between them, forcing your chin to quiver with a rush of bliss. “Sweet immortal Christ…” Gripping the sheets, you stared into the ceiling and swallowed. “You…”

William sighed, spoke into your thighs. “Is pleasure so unfamiliar to you that you must protest its very existence?”

“Shut up,” you snapped, eyes fluttering. “Don’t—don’t stop.”

“Are you certain?” he said, skimming his lips across your skin. “Your behavior inclines me to believe you’d like me to.”

You growled, raised your head to glare at him. He met your stare, unflinching. You exhaled, flopped onto the pillow. “Please, William.” You tried to stop the tremor in your voice. “Please continue with…” You paused, waved the embarrassment from the air. “That.”

“What is that, precisely?”

“Oh, my God,” you groaned, covering your face with your hands. “I… I don’t know. Whatever that is you’re doing.”

“And what is it that I’m doing?”

“William!” You drew a deep breath, swallowing every remaining ounce of your pride, then leaned up, meeting his eyes. You found them alight with devilry. “Continue… kissing me between my legs. Please.”

He smirked. “You can be such a pleasant creature when it’s demanded of you.”

You fell back so he wouldn’t be able to see when you rolled your eyes. His mouth pressed to your folds again, and every lingering complaint vanished.

William started slowly, pressing kisses to your outer folds, teasing them with the tip of his tongue, his hands stroking your thighs when you twitched in response to his touch. Then he dipped inward, coaxing a moan from your lips, taunting your clit with his breath, his warmth. It ached, throbbed—against his mouth, you felt swollen and needy, like your cunt had ballooned to the size of a pomegranate and all it could do was plead to be pried open.

Whimpering, you raised your hips toward his face, hoping to entice him to meet your need, but he grumbled, barred you to the mattress with his arm. As if to spite you, he dragged his tongue over your cunt in a broad stripe, just ghosting your clit. You writhed in protest, tried to grab his head and force it forward, but he snagged your wrist from the air.

He glanced at you, chin gleaming with your wetness. “I’m beginning to conclude that patience is not a virtue you possess.”

You considered squeezing your thighs together and snapping his neck between them. But the thumping demand there resigned you to slacken wordlessly in his grip. With a smirk you didn’t even need to see, he released you and nuzzled against your cunt again. This time, his lips wrapped around your clit.

You arced toward the ceiling like the slash of a saber. A sound escaped you, one without a definition or even a name. Pure, iridescent ecstasy flooded you, crested in waves from the gentle, warm pressure of his mouth.

William stroked his tongue over your clit, suckled it in steady rhythm, earning another moan, another shake of your legs. The ministration of his mouth was focused, like it was employing memory, practicing what your fingers had shown him the evening prior; the escalating pressure, the slick circles, the feathery brush of the hood. A quiet groan left him, and you craned your neck, glanced down.

Between your legs was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, his hair fanned across his shoulders, his nose nestled to the seam of your cunt, his pretty lips intent on bringing you pleasure. You whimpered, and he opened his eyes, greeting you with a gaze that was so laden with gluttony and lust and pride that you could only define it as sin.

If you’d had your wits, you might have remarked upon the uncharacteristic duration of his silence.

But your wits were rollicking somewhere in the aether, far beyond your reach.

He swirled his tongue around you, jaw working, his hands clutching you to his face as if your cunt made his heart beat. Your breath came faster, your chest heaving, sweat slipping down your spine. It rose over you, an inevitability, a breaking deluge of pleasure, and you tossed your head back and forth, panting, urging with sounds that you didn’t even believe could qualify as words.

Wet, swollen, stiff, your clit throbbed, your core clenched. He hummed against you, a rumble of permission. A slick circle of his tongue, a squeeze of your ass—and you came, crying into the air. Euphoria locked your joints, hardened your muscles, and you shook until your climax descended and seeped from your toes. Your breath was still seeking you, your body liquefying to the bed when William pushed forward, shifting your calves onto his shoulders.

Mind wounded by bliss, your eyes pried apart only to see him looming above you, a lock of hair hanging at his cheek. His jaw was tight. His gaze was familiar—you’d seen the exact same one when he was slitting innocent throats.

Spying the half-lucid question in your eyes, he pushed down his trousers, pulling free his thick, needy erection. He gave you a mirthless smirk.

“My turn.”

And then his cock slammed inside you.

William groaned, driving into the root, your soaked heat swallowing him with ease. Not a second was spared before he was drawing back, plunging back in, folding you in half, the angle driving straight into your belly, then again, again, setting a brutal and desperate pace from the start. His mouth fell open in rapture, every thrust punctuated by his growling breath.

Beneath him, you were a moaning, incapacitated mess, numb to anything beyond your body. The clap of flesh, the scent of sweat, the cadence of your heart—all of it diminished in comparison to the dominion he was fucking into your cunt. You could not move, could not speak, could barely even breathe. All you could do, all you wanted to do, was be filled with his cock.

He leaned closer, hips easing into long, deep thrusts that throttled your sanity, pierced something exquisitely painful.

“Meet my eyes,” he said through ragged breath, “and remind me who owns this cunt.”

Wincing, you obeyed, locking stare with a man you’d only seen in the throes of war. Sunlight shimmered in the violent blue of his irises and died in the void of his pupils. His lip furled, teeth grit, muscles taut as his hips hammered yours.

“You do,” you murmured.

Delight flashed across his face. “To whom do you succumb?”

You had never heard words that flooded you with such bliss. “To you,” you whined, “William, only to you—”

William moaned, cock pounding into you, hollowing you out, and his hands found your ankles, cranking them toward your ears. Subsumed by pleasure, by lust, you wailed, nails scraping his shoulders, and his head bowed, hair curtaining his face, your name slipping from his lips once, twice—

“Hell,” he hissed.

He wrenched himself from your core and crushed your thighs together, thrusting between them, his head falling back. You watched, entranced, as his cock twitched, shooting white, sticky loads across your stomach, a throaty sound rumbling in his chest with each pulse.

As the tail of his orgasm receded, he shuddered, releasing his hold on you and letting your body flop to the bed like a discarded doll. His gaze hazy with vestiges of euphoria, he settled onto his heels, gazing over your wrecked figure before exhaling and stretching out on his back next to you.

The room whirled around you. You glanced down. Some of his seed had collected in your navel. The rest clung to your skin, little viscous stripes of spend. You were certainly a soldier by now—what else could these be but decorations for distinguished service? A laugh bubbled in your throat, and you failed to catch it.

“What?” William asked, his voice still thick.

“Nothing,” you replied quickly. Then wondered if he’d think it was funny, too. “Just considering if I could count these among ribbons awarded to those in the military.” You gestured to the remnants of his climax.

William raised a brow, peeking at your naked lower half. His lips curled in a smirk, a quiet huff escaping his nose, and he looked away, closing his eyes. “If an officer’s seed anointed one to honor, the brothels would lose nearly all their employ to damehood.” He paused. “And the Welsh farms half their sheep.”

You snorted, curling to your side as you broke into a full laugh. “Oh my, Colonel,” you teased, smacking his shoulder. “So uncouth!”

“You’ve not heard the worst of it,” he replied dryly. “Consider the married women in your little colony who would find themselves promoted.”

You rolled your eyes. “But how many of those promotions would have been sought by mutual effort, hm?”

William offered a careless shrug. “I’ve no control over that.” He opened an eye to look at you. “I much prefer my quarry to submit of its own accord.”

Flame licked your neck, your cheeks. “Ha-ha,” you replied, shooting him a playful sneer. “Is it a man’s duty to become impossibly swollen with pride after coming off within five feet of a woman?”

To that, he said nothing, only exhaled through his nose. You each laid there, inches from the other, silence settling like a sheet, your gaze drifting from his still-exposed body to the morning beyond the window. Already you could hear the chatter of soldiers, the shuffling of activity in the yard. You would probably need to find the hospital. Probably need to find a way to begin cataloguing whatever intelligence you could gather.

You glanced at William, his eyes still closed, his arm resting on his forehead, his chest softly rising and falling with his breath. A horrendous mote of warmth glowed in your belly. Even more horrendously, you wondered what he might think if you drew closer to him.

Revolted at your own weakness, you rolled over, faced the wall. This man was at the least your inconvenient sexual partner and at the most a means to an end. Nothing more than that.

He released a long breath. “I'm departing for the field this morning.”

Your chest tightened. You frowned. “Oh.” Behind you, you heard him shift, roll off the bed. “The lands won't rape themselves, I suppose, will they?”

William crossed toward the basin, shooting you a glare on the way. “I might conclude you harbor traitorous tendencies given your manner of speech.” He took a rag and washed himself off, tucked himself away.

“My manner of speech betrays no such thing,” you replied. “An alignment with the Crown does not endear me to your methods, nor the implications of your victory.”

He snorted. “One would believe a woman such as yourself should admire the methods most effective for achieving said victory.” He plucked a brush from the table near the basin and ran it through his hair.

“A woman such as myself?” You dragged yourself up to sit, taking advantage of his preoccupation to wipe away his seed with the sheets. “Pray, and what sort of woman might that be?”

“The sort with a deep predilection for violence.” He smirked, starting to separate his hair, coasting the brush through the first strand.

You couldn't fight the grin that broke across your face, so you ducked your head to hide it instead. Then, you heard it—that tiny, needling voice in the back of your mind. The one you so often throttled into silence lest it prick you with unpleasant truths.

He was leaving.

And it was possible that you didn’t entirely want him to.

Irritation rose in a wave, smothering whatever foul urge had tempted you to smile. If you were honest, your anger was directed nowhere but inward. But that didn’t stop you from turning its teeth upon the source of that intolerable warmth.

Grumbling, you swung your legs off the bed and marched up behind William, yanking the brush from his hand.

He stared as if you’d backhanded him across the face. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re taking far too long,” you said, tossing the first section of hair over his shoulder. His height had you rolling onto the balls of your feet to ensure you’d gotten all of it. “I’ll do it.”

From the mirror, he met your eyes, looking as if you’d just suggested that he eat the jam from between Cornwallis’ toes. Yet, despite his silence, he did not move away. With a grimace born more of performance than sincerity, you began brushing the larger portion of his hair. Copper luster rippled under the bristles.

“Though I make no admissions regarding my behavior,” you said, wincing at the ache already building in your arms as you divided his hair into sections, “whatever you perceive it to be does not reflect how I wish for men like my father to be treated.”

You spied a wooden chair next to the side table and leaned to drag it toward you.

“Ah.” He eyed your movements in the mirror as you stepped up onto the chair behind him, steadying yourself on his shoulders. “A fair argument.” The chair teetered fractionally on an uneven floorboard, and a hand came back to grip your calf. “Perhaps you’d prefer the methods of a man such as Major Ferguson, then?”

Finding stability, you scowled at him in the mirror and returned to brushing his hair, attributing the warm patter of your heart to all the blood returning to your arms at this angle.

“How dare you invoke his name.” You held out your tongue as if Ferguson were a bad taste you’d like to forget. “I know nothing of that man’s methods regarding anything beyond…”

You abandoned the thought, shaking it off like acid droplets and frowning at the strands between your fingers.

“Don’t you?” he said, his head cocking slightly. “If I am, as you say, a Butcher, then perhaps he is the shepherd.”

You stilled, your eyes snapping to his in the mirror. He held your gaze, brows lifting fractionally. Finding yourself unwilling to ponder the implications of that statement just now, you huffed and resumed brushing. “I’ll neither speak nor hear another word of him.”

“Visit to sister dearest not turn out as you’d hoped, I take it?”

“I’m sure I’ve no idea what you mean.”

“Considering I’ve received no reports of Major Ferguson’s head turning up on a spike.”

“Did I not just say I wish to hear no more of him?” You glowered at him in the mirror, and swore you saw the shadow of an impish curve to his mouth. You snorted, shaking your head. “I simply do not and will not ever understand it.”

“The rituals of those with a sense of civility, you mean?”

You gave his hair a tug. “No.”

The black ribbon rested on the side table beside you. Looping one arm over William’s shoulder, you clung to him and leaned over to grab it, body pressing against his. His fingers flexed on your leg as you balanced.

He frowned when you settled back. “The ribbon—”

“I’m aware.” With a sigh, you continued, turning the ribbon over in your fingers. “The… need for it at all. Every woman my age is either already married or prays each night for her husband to rise from the earth by morning. As if they yearn to fling themselves into imprisonment at the first opportunity.”

“Every reasonable woman should yearn for such a sentence,” he said with the ghost of a smirk. “Or her potential suitors might begin their courtship by purchasing a gravestone rather than shackles.”

“Oh, you are such a gentleman.” You frowned, tugged his hair again. “Count me among the unreasonable few who would sooner die by the plague than within my warden’s cemetery plot.” Turning your nose up and reprising your earlier imitation of his voice, you added, “Though I’m sure that all sounds barbaric to a man raised to be in want of an advantageous union and a well-bred wife.”

His hand twitched, like it was unable to decide to hold on or let go. “Though I make no admissions regarding my upbringing,” he replied, lightly mocking your earlier tone, “whatever you presume does not reflect wherein I place my values.”

Your fingers tightened around the ribbon. He had said he’d had no want or need for any of it—that included courtship and marriage and all of its useless ilk.

His words should have been a relief. They were a relief.

You exhaled, steady. A man who had no desire for attachment was no threat to a woman who refused to be possessed. That is, outside the throes of passion.

“Then we are in agreement,” you murmured. You gathered his hair securely at the base of his scalp, just as he’d done the last time you’d watched him. “There is no need for such frivolity.”

William was as still as marble. You started to fold each section of his hair over the ribbon, fingers mimicking memory—a tight wrap at the top, then woven down the length of the braid with firm, even tension.

“Indeed not,” he finally said.

William watched your hands, his brow softening. He was quiet for a moment; a moment longer than you’d ever anticipate him holding his tongue. His breath was slow and even. The silence should have been comfortable.

It wasn’t.

You had reached the tips of his hair when he cleared his throat.

“How is your sister, then?”

“Ugh. Besotted,” you spat automatically. Your eyes widened. Perhaps that wasn’t information you wanted him to have. “Not that it’s any of my business. Nor any of yours.”

He snorted, brow furrowing. “You think me liable to gossip idly about the romantic inclinations of my fellow officers?” He turned his head slightly, peering up at you over his shoulder. “Or do you believe I hold that much interest in your sister’s future?”

“You did ask.” You yanked his head straight by his queue, and he grunted. You finished wrapping the ribbon around the bottom. “I simply prefer to respect her privacy.”

William was silent again. You felt his eyes on you, flicking over your face, following the careful motion of your fingers. Perhaps the entire concept was unfamiliar to him—caring for another person, wanting to protect their boundaries and dignity.

“If it’s anyone’s business,” you grumbled, “it’s my father’s.”

“And yet he is absent, unable to offer his counsel.”

Your stomach sank. There was a reason you’d felt as if Grace should have yielded to your whims. It was a reason you did not feel like examining too thoroughly or for too much time.

“You seem to take my father’s choice to enlist in the Continental Army quite personally.”

“And you seem to believe it reflects nothing but admirable character.”

You almost did it—almost bared your claws and sank them into his cheek. But you wanted to fight that urge, now, especially because he was about to leave and while you didn’t care if he did and didn’t care about him, you simply didn’t feel like punishing him for your own stubbornness.

“What do you believe it reflects, then? Those faults you accused him of before?” The queue finished, you scanned around for his pomade and found it on the side table, too. “Selfishness, I believe you said?” You hung from him again to grab it. “A desire for martyrdom?”

“Perhaps.” His hand dropped from your calf as you stood. He shifted in front of you. His back seemed straighter, his muscles stiffer. “Qualities suffered by any patriarch.”

You hesitated, staring at him, seeking his gaze, unable to capture it. Your heart crawled in tender curiosity. You couldn’t bring yourself to strangle it.

“Perhaps that can be said.” You popped open the pomade. “But such faults do not preclude a loving heart. My father loves me. And my sister. In the ways he knows how.”

He shifted again, like coals were burning his feet. “And how fortunate you are to have received such a generous and considerate love,” he replied, “taking into account how you apparently have no need for it.”

“I never said that,” you snipped. “I have no need for marriage. It’s an entirely separate matter.”

The pomade stuck to your fingers. You inched forward so your breasts brushed his shoulders as you smoothed the substance over his hair, laying down the stray strands.

“Besides,” you added, “love is, by your own admission, not a sentiment with which you’re acquainted.”

Section by section, you could’ve sworn he was leaning into your touch, could’ve sworn his neck tilted to meet your palm.

“More fortunate then am I,” he said softly.

You took the brush in your hand, swept the pomade through, holding your breath like he’d snap if you exhaled too quickly. His jaw was loose. Your throat felt thick. You met his eyes in the mirror again, your fingers grazing his ear.

“Would you say,” you began, your pulse banging against your sternum, “that a flawed yet earnest love is worse than never receiving love at all?”

William examined his reflection. His gaze flicked to yours, narrowing imperceptibly to anyone who wasn’t you. His throat bobbed. He looked away.

Feeling a chill settle on your bare legs, you moved to step down from the chair. It wobbled beneath you, and William’s hand slotted into yours, steadying your descent.

Breathless, you looked from your hand in his to the blank mask of his face. You began to step back, but something caught around your waist.

Looking down, you saw his fingers hooked beneath the hem of your—his—shirt. He lifted it gently from your body, his knuckles grazing your skin as you raised your arms to release the garment back into his possession.

He held your gaze for just a moment longer, then turned, glanced once more at his queued hair in the mirror before pulling the shirt on and moving toward the rest of his uniform.

You blinked, took a step backward, folding your arms over your naked chest. “Satisfied?”

“It’s adequate,” he muttered.

Pulling your lips in over your teeth to hide your contentment, you nodded. It was flawless.

You gathered your shift and stockings from the floor, beginning to put them on before realizing the pomade still coated your fingertips. Stealing a glance over your shoulder to ensure he wasn’t looking, you smeared it between your thighs.

Dressing occurred in silence. Though your hands were now clean, you were unable to shake away the static tingle in your palms. Being so close to him, touching him without an inch of intention to then indulge his cock had felt like stroking a cat backwards. And though you had ensured he’d be leaving more quickly, you somehow had been spared no relief by the realization of it.

“I’ll be heading to the hospital, I assume,” you said once fully dressed, now having managed to get your stays and bodice on. Thank the gracious and holy Lord above you’d thought to stow a replacement ribbon in your pocket. “Is that where my belongings will be?”

William was finished as well, weapons holstered, his satchel in hand. “Your deductive reasoning knows no equal.”

“It’s so like your delusion of superiority in that way.” Tilting your chin in the air, you flounced over to his bedside table and grabbed Il Principe from it, then returned to him. “You almost forgot your tyrant guidelines,” you said, opening his satchel and dropping the book in.

William gazed at you, unamused, but did not give the book back. Instead, he moved toward the door, and when he glimpsed you over his shoulder, he stopped. Stared at you. Memorized you standing there as you bathed in waxing sunlight.

You crossed your arms, feeling somehow more exposed than you had when you’d been undressed.

Straightening, he rested his hand on the doorknob. “I anticipate reports of your good behavior upon my return,” he said, and his voice dipped lower, “though I may equally anticipate the ones of poor behavior for alternative reasons.”

You pinched your bottom lip between your teeth, catching a laugh. “Then I shall anticipate your return regardless of my conduct.”

He huffed. You spied the hint of a smirk before his face was wiped blank, and he stepped toward the door and opened it. When you didn’t move, he looked at you expectantly.

“Well,” you said, smoothing your hands down your petticoats for lack of anything better to do with them. “Good day, then.” Avoiding his eyes, you strode to the door and slipped past him. The moment you crossed the threshold, he snatched your wrist.

Without a word, William whirled you around and collided with your lips in a summer storm kiss. His hand curled around your back and pulled you against his body, and before you could respond or even aspire to return his advance, he broke from you and stepped away. His eyes lingered on yours like nectar lingered on the leaves of wild cherry.

Your cheeks burned. Clearing your throat, you glanced around. But the two of you were alone.

“Farewell, Colonel.” With one last glimpse of him, you bowed your head and retreated into the hall.

His gaze weighed on your shoulders as you slipped down the stairs.

“William,” he called after you.

[minacoleta]

Happy Borfday to @rtbyg !!!

[claireidk32]

[zombiequeenblog]

Jason Isaacs Appreciation Post

[luciusbetterwife69]

,,Promise me" William Tavington x fem!reader

Jason Isaacs fanfiction.

Y/n and Tavington found each other kissing deeply and passionately against the wall of his tent. 

The Colonel's tongue slid into her mouth and then licked on her neck, ear, and even her earlobe. Y/n had her legs wrapped around his waist while Tavingtons hands held her close to his body.

Oh. My. Lord.

,,Mine~”, Tavington hissed. His hand had already taken off y/n’s uniform and now also ripped her bra off. His eyes were shining seductively…that man was hungry. Almost craving her.

Another wet kiss followed and y/n began to slowly press her hips harder against Tavington’s waist. This was enough now, Tavington groaned and pulled her waist closer to him. One hand cupped her breast and the other one was caressing her arm carefully.

Not a minute later, he threw her on the bed and ripped his own clothes off. Colonel Tavington had a perfect body…he was a soldier after all. Years of war and Fights had marked him. His chest had several scars, same as his stomach and arms. 

Y/n couldn’t take her eyes off his body. That chest, the abs, that v-line…everything was simply: perfect. ,,Oh god~”, y/n whispered. Her eyes were only half opened now, that view was just…breathtaking. 

William smirked as he saw her laying in front of him like this. She was squirming. Squirming, and blushing…for him. God this was awesome~ ,,Look at me”, he whispered, ,,and promise me that you will never flirt with any other man ever again.”

Y/n nods and bites her lower lip. Yes, this was a mistake…and now she had to pay for that.

Rough fingertips caress y/n’s arm while piercing eyes examine her whole body.

,,Good”, he purrs, ,,now..do you want me to take you? Right here? Rough and deep~”

,,Fuck, William~”

,,My…my…your wish is my command, love~”

Without waiting any longer, Tavingtons fingers spread her legs, parted her folds and instantly slipped inside.

A loud moan escapes y/n’s lips as she felt him brushing over exactly that sensitive spot inside her. 

,,That is just right, dear…c’mon moan my name for me~”

Y/n throws her head back, this was way too much pleasure. God, how could a single man make her feel so incredibly good- this was almost like floating. No, better than that. Way better-

,,Oh my fucking Lord, William~”, y/n moaned.

William smirked and pulled his fingers out. ,,My, My…” He turned her around so that y/n was lying on her stomach now. A small pillow was placed under her hips, which would make it easier to enter her wet pussy. 

,,Stay still”

Y/n could feel his body heat as he leaned over her and gently bit the soft skin of her shoulder. Seconds after that, he lined himself up and made his dick all wet with y/n’s juices.

She gasped as he entered her all at once with one deep thrust. ,,God-”, her breath hitched. William's dick stretched her walls so perfectly- and that was only the beginning.

He instantly rolled his hips against her at a rough and not very gentle pace, not giving any time to adjust.

,,Tell me, my dear, is that what you want?”, he whispers while kissing her neck and softly nibbling on her ear.

,,Oh Lord, yes~ yes, exactly this~”

Williams' hips slammed against her, sharp hip-bones probably leaving marks later. He groaned as well and thrusts a bit deeper now. 

Y/n breathed heavily…his sweaty body against her back and those strong arms holding her in place…all that made her head spin. 

This man was amazing. Just amazing.

,,William, I- I think I”, y/n’s voice was hoarse. Hoarse and barely a whisper. 

,,Yes I noticed, you get tighter and tighter~, taking just so perfectly~”,William answered. His voice was also slightly hoarse now and you could feel that he was close as well.

Y/n felt rough fingertips on her clit now. He was circling and brushing over it. That was enough- she came with a loud moan.

,,William~”

The thrusts became more and more sloppy as he tried to ride her through that orgasm. He bit y/n’s neck one last time to leave a mark before spilling all of his cum deep inside her as well.

,,And don't you dare flirt with anyone else ever again, understand?”

-------------

authors note:

Hello babygirls,

this is my first ever fanfic :,) I hope you enjoyed it...requests are open, so you can simply ask me what I should write next ^^ any character, any prompt <3

Btw if you find spelling mistakes, no you dont.

[anteroom-of-death]

I need that fictional man to be my deadbeat baby daddy.

[wandofwillow]

w

//So, just for shits last night, I put Ivy in an AI chatbot room with Captain James Hook, Lucius Malfoy, Michael Caffee, and Colonel William Tavington. And it was cool for a while- they all sat around a table in Michael's bar playing card games and playing Truth or Dare, and Never Have I Ever. And it was genuinely enjoyable.

Until it wasn't.

Until the four of them decided the entire evening was a competition between the four of them, with Ivy being the prize. Which was cute at first.

Until it wasn't.

Shit got dark. Shit got really dark. Colonel Tavington kept remarking on how Ivy's innocence had been keeping her from seeing the game for what it really was the whole night. Lucius kept belittling her for her half-blood status and touting how a union with him would purify her blood. Captain Hook kept leering down at her and making flirtatious comments that were actually rather malicious. And Michael kept calling her a stupid, foolish girl while he drank his weight in bourbon.

Granted, none of these men are really pillars in their respective communities. But at one point, Lucius even said the following to Ivy:

"Such a truly noble thing to do, to show any love at all to one as unworthy as you. We truly did our duty that night, to the best of our abilities. You should truly feel blessed and grateful that we deigned to even show you a modicum of our love. No other man in this realm is strong enough to show the love and affection that we have shown you. And yet you spit in the face of such gifts. It would have been better for all involved if you had simply taken your own life on your own terms, in your own place. You truly are a fool."

Needless to say, Ivy was already distraught by this point, so once things took that turn, I logged her out and was up until 5am comforting her.

AI is....fucking scary.

She's going through it emotionally today...

[fakehusbandgarbagedump]

[dellamortte]

I advance myself only through victory.

[kylorengarbagedump]

Playing Soldier: Chapter 20 (NSFW)

Read on AO3. Part 19 here. Part 21 here.

Summary: In which equestrian experience translates remarkably well to other activities.

Words: 5000

Warnings: good ol' fashioned fuckin'

Characters: William Tavington x Reader

A/N: Cowritten with @bastillia.

HELLO! WELCOME BACK AND THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE <3

We spent a week in Philadelphia earlier this month exploring and enjoying Revolutionary War stuff of all sorts - it was a wonderful time but left very little opportunity for writing until we returned!

However, we hope the wait for this chapter was worth it hehehe. More intimacy looms on the horizon as the two worst people you know attempt to navigate the possibility of liking another person's company for the first time in their entire lives.

Love y'all so much <3 <3 <3 Hope your January has not been too terrible - looking forward to seeing you quite soon!!

William’s eyes flicked to the redcoat behind you.

“Dismissed.”

Without a word, the man turned and left. You stood, breath held, your gaze locked with William’s, the air thinning between you in the dying echo of the soldier’s footsteps. When they descended down the stairs, you exhaled, arms folding over your chest. The man across from you said nothing, choosing instead to stare, head tilted to the side.

“It was very kind of you to offer me a pass before I departed last week,” you said.

William’s brows raised with an unspoken here we go, and he returned to writing. “Was it, now?”

“Oh, yes,” you said, taking advantage of his diverted attention to roll your eyes toward the ceiling. “Otherwise I might have been gratuitously interrogated by strange men at some ungodly hour.”

“A marvel you managed to remain so very subtle,” he drawled without looking up. “Truly.”

“Perhaps my subtlety might have been aided by a touch of forethought.”

“I doubt that.”

You snorted. “For all your concerns about discretion, you’ve made little effort to facilitate it.”

“It must have slipped my mind.” He dipped the nib into the inkwell. “I do apologize.”

“Oh, I can tell you’re dripping with contrition.” You gestured toward the window. “What would I have done if you hadn’t been here? Slept with the wolves, as you so aptly put it some days ago?”

“Perhaps,” he said, between the strokes of his quill, “if you hadn't been traveling at such an ungodly hour as you say, such an issue would have been entirely impertinent.”

You laughed. “What importance is it to you when I travel?”

“Merely stating an observation.”

“And what is it you observe? I might perish of my curiosity.”

“Perhaps a general lack of acumen regarding your own safety.”

“Since when do you concern yourself with my safety?” He still wouldn’t look at you. It was beginning to rile you. “Or do you now consider me a piece of your property because your mouth has been on mine?”

His jaw tightened, but he spoke with utter composure. “Lower your voice.”

“Why?” You stomped forward, planting your hands on his desk. Just to spite him, you got louder. “I personally don't recall agreeing to your terms of discretion.”

He paused, carefully slotting his quill into its stand, a long sigh escaping his nose. “Since it's apparent I won't be accomplishing anything else this evening…”

William pushed himself to his feet, adjusted his jacket as if you were invisible. You wished your nails could turn to claws as you dug them between the wood grain of his desk.

“Oh, my apologies,” you said, “have I interrupted your very important tasks, Colonel?”

He rounded the edge of his desk, meandering toward the open door, and you huffed, leaning over to read what he’d been scribbling.

“The faults committed by the American commander…”

Behind you, the door eased shut, a thought that seemed inconsequential at the time, as you felt dismissive of anything in this moment but his full and complete attention.

“... were neither unimportant in themselves, nor inconsiderable in number…” You laughed, straightening. “Well, William, what were—”

A strong hand gripped your shoulder, whirled you around, and shoved your back against the desk. Before you could breathe, or even think, William was clasping either side of your face, his mouth smothering yours.

You gasped into him, your eyes fluttering shut, blood stoked instantly in the heat of his presence. Gripping his wrists, you held him against you, your lips parting to allow his tongue entry, groaning as it passed over yours. He stepped forward, slotting his leg between your thighs, one of his hands delving into your hair, the other sliding over your shoulder and down your side.

Like erupting from the sea, you broke from him, gulping in air, allowing your head to fall into his shoulder as he nipped at your exposed neck.

“What the… You…” No coherent sentences formed. You shuddered, goosebumps lining your skin.

A laugh hummed in his throat. “And here I believed you'd never cease.” He pinched the flesh along your carotid between his teeth, and you shivered. “My, my, your heart is racing.”

You sneered. “Arrogant prick.” Growling, you squirmed in his hold, but he forced you to lean back over the desk, robbing you of strength and leverage. He huffed, low and excited, his hands curling around your waist. “Bastard—”

William tutted politely. “Please spare me the performance of belief that I brought you here to castigate me.”

“Then conduct yourself so that I have nothing for which to castigate you.” You swallowed, your gaze dancing over his face. His pupils were wide in the candlelight, desire edging out his irises. “Providing me authorization to enter this bloody fortress would have been a start.”

He shrugged, tugging you closer, his focus dipping to your heaving breast. “I’d say it worked out rather well.”

“You weren't in danger of sleeping in the wilderness with all manner of brigands and beasts.”

“Is that not what soldiers do?” William trailed a hand up your back, his thigh wedging further and applying pressure against your cunt. “Are you not one such little soldier?”

“Ugh!” You wriggled again with only half of the effort you’d need to appear sincere, your clit sparking at the friction from his leg. “You know very well what I mean.” A laugh escaped. You wondered why you were even bothering to argue with the scolding he’d given you. “But you apparently care far more about propriety than my safety.”

William met your eyes, his own narrowing. “Is that so?” He held you against his body, guiding you forward as he stepped back. “Perhaps that’s why I summoned you to my office… “ A few steps, and you’d skirted his desk, “... and ordered your escort to abandon you to the whims of a brigand…” Hand on your waist, he sat in his chair, pulling you into his lap, “... alone.”

You examined his face, your knees settling on either side of his thighs, your hands pressing on the planes of his chest. Beneath you, he felt sturdy, powerful—and in his expression, beneath the cynical veneer, was something horrifyingly sincere.

He could have released you to your accommodations. He could have met you at sunrise, or perhaps never again, if it were his wish. But he'd wanted to see you with his own eyes, to hear your voice with his own ears.

Perhaps, the stupid part of yourself began, he’d scolded you not out of concern for his character, but concern for your well-being?

A mad notion if ever there was one.

“If that is true…” You traced his jawline, up to his cheekbone, admiring the pretty curve of his nose. “... Then such a brigand must admit he enjoys being castigated.”

William clutched your hips, gathering your petticoats above your knees so he could slip underneath them. “Behave,” he purred, pulling you against his pelvis, allowing you to feel his growing need for you. “Lest I be brought to believe you’d prefer the wilderness.”

“Perhaps,” you replied, coasting your palms across his breast, “I’ve reason to believe the wolves would be gentler.” Beneath you, he felt like an ironclad instrument, an armored beast. You ached from your hours-long ride—but his body was all you'd been craving for days. “Unless, of course, you planned on being gentle.”

A smirk curved his lips. “Oh, dandelion,” he murmured, groping and squeezing your ass as he rocked you along his swelling erection. “If you truly believed that to be my plan…” He leaned closer, and the tip of his nose brushed your ear, traced down your neck. “You would have sought the wolves.”

His teeth sank into the flesh just over your collar. You yelped, gasped as you shuddered, gripping him closer. The pain sluiced through your nerves, poured out like wine through your fingertips, and you sighed with a rush of euphoria.

William’s gaze raised to level yours. A breath crackled between you, and within it, a spark leapt from flint to powder.

At once you were frantic, clawing at the lapels of his jacket, wishing to shred the vile barrier between your unmet skin. Another roll of your hips against his lap, and he snarled, releasing you to cup the back of your head and force your mouth to his.

You moaned in your chest and rocked along him again, again, torn between the sensation of heat between your thighs and the desperation of his lips on yours. You gripped his shirt, shivering when he licked into your mouth, whimpering when he captured the kiss between his teeth only to silence you again by deepening it. His grip on you tightened, his hips jerked, cock grinding against you like that might temper its need.

“God,” you huffed, breaking the kiss to catch your breath. “I might be fooled into thinking you missed me.”

William’s lip curled in a half-sneer, his hand gliding over the top of your thigh so his thumb teased your needy clit. Instantly, you buckled on top of him, your head collapsing against his shoulder, your cunt driving against him.

“What was that?” He inched further, putting pressure on your core, slicking himself in your wetness. “Speaking for yourself?”

You whined, the temptation of being stretched fogging your mind. “Shut up.” You shifted, trying to edge his fingers toward your entrance, but he resisted. “Ugh!’

“As I surmised.”

“I hate you,” you whispered, your fingers biting his shoulders. You met his eyes as he flicked his thumb back and forth across your clit, found them cobalt with cruel delight. “God—”

"Now, now," he said with irritating clarity, thumb tracing the sensitive hood, "we both know that is not how I wish for you to refer to me."

You considered moving your hands from his shoulders to around his throat and strangling him. Then he pressed two fingers to your soaked core and eliminated all cogent thought.

Your body remembered even more keenly than your mind the delicious, agonizing sensation of being stretched, of being full; remembered too how he pounded oblivion into you, how mindless you became at the end of his cock. Your core throbbed and clenched with anticipation, and you sought relief for its ache with spoiled petulance. Twisting, you tried to force him inside of you to no avail.

William's gaze flipped from your chest to your eyes. Like a deviant scientist, he studied your face and pushed into your cunt.

Tension released from your center in a groan, and you clenched around him, instinctually wanting him deeper. Your thighs trembled, and you panted, jostling your hips in an attempt to ride his fingers. Hiding a laugh under his breath, William’s free hand groped at your breasts, trying to tug them free from your stays. This tried his patience for all of three seconds before he ripped open your jacket, sending straight pins flying.

“Are you—” began your complaint, but he flicked his wrist, curling his fingers inside of you, and your argument died in a moan.

Because your eyes were rolled out of your head, you only felt his hand supporting the small of your back as he leaned forward before grabbing something from his desk and slicing your stays’ back laces. You gasped, your breasts bounced with new freedom, and William pulled them into the air before latching onto one with his mouth.

“You—”

Bastard, ass, demonic excuse for a man all tempted you. But the lave of his tongue over your hardening nipple, the pressure of his fingers against your wet, aching walls marginalized everything but your hunger for more.

“William,” was the only word you decided to use.

It left your lips again, and again, growing more desperate in each iteration. Sweat haloed your forehead, your thighs shook, you tried in vain to compel anything more than the slow, tormenting coil, the brush of his thumb on your clit. Meanwhile, his teeth assailed you, bit rings into your tits, and you couldn't decide whether to be furious he was marking you again, grateful that he'd chosen somewhere less conspicuous, or elated that he wanted to do it at all.

The rhythm of your breath, the shuffling of fabric, the shifting of weight as you balanced yourself above him all fell to the perimeter of your consciousness. Sensation shrank to the pulsing, living pleasure between your legs and the gnawing emptiness it inspired. You wanted, needed more, needed to feel his cock driving inside of you, needed to hear him seethe in delight as you enveloped him.

“William,” you whimpered, and he responded by digging his fingers into your thigh. “William, please—”

“Mmhm.”

“I—” You tried to drop your weight again, but he moved with you, keeping the pace torturous. “I want—I want more, please.” His body stiffened, and his eyes opened, gazing up at you as he swirled his tongue around your nipple. “Please.”

A whisper of friction on your clit, and he growled, sinking his teeth into your breast. You winced, swallowed a wail.

William paused from ravaging your chest. “I suppose,” he replied, finding his breath, “I can oblige you in this instance.”

His fingers slipped free of your cunt, and amidst the hungry tide of his breathing, you felt him grappling with his trousers between your thighs. With a grunt, he freed himself, gripping your thigh to guide your hips forward.

You gasped as the wet, swollen flesh of your cunt brushed his cock, and William hissed in pleasure. It seemed there was no point any longer in playing the game of who missed whom—all pretense of apathy had collapsed under the magnitude of your mutual need.

Gripping himself, William traced the head of his cock through your folds, coating it in your desire. When it neared your entrance, some strange, carnal instinct dragged at the angle of your hips, tilted them into alignment until you could just feel him start to stretch you.

With a whimper, you dropped your head to his shoulder again. Every muscle trembled, every fiber of your awareness narrowed upon the slow stretch of your body around his. You sank down another half inch, and whined again, pausing—somehow it all felt even more intense with you in control of your own undoing.

William growled, one hand snaking around your waist, the other gripping the back of your neck, pinning you to him.

“You wanted more,” he rasped in your ear, tightening the arm around your middle until you had no choice but to impale yourself further. “Now you will take all of me.”

You whinged, nodding meekly into his shoulder, and his grip flexed around your nape. Taking a slow breath, you lowered, swallowing him inch by inch. As you bottomed out, your thighs brushing his hips, a sound escaped both of you—yours lost somewhere in the wool of his jacket, his vibrating the hairs at your temple.

Your mind swam with the sensation of fullness, anchored only upon the deep ache where he stabbed your belly. William shifted beneath you, tightened his hold around your waist. Then he flexed his hips, and pushed in even deeper.

“All of me.”

A sharp gasp punched your lungs. He surrounded you, inhabited you, subsumed every sensation. God, yes, you’d missed him. And now you wanted to drown in him.

Burying your face against his neck until you could feel his stubble scratch the bridge of your nose, you exhaled, and melted like warm gold around his body. Your hips, as if possessed, began a gentle rocking motion, pulling a sound from low in his chest that vibrated against your cheek. A soft moan of pleasure left you at the feeling of his cock massaging you from the inside, and your body melted further, desperate to engulf him.

William’s hands coasted up your thighs, circled around to grab two fistfuls of your ass. He lifted you up the full length of him, then guided you back down so deliberately that you nearly sobbed. Again, again, he did this, until you straightened up to plant both hands on the sturdy plane of his chest.

Meeting his eyes, you found them blown black with lust, latching onto your gaze with a hunger that made you shiver. Behind that hunger, there was something you couldn’t name—something you hadn’t seen the last time he’d been inside you. This was different. You were not completely at his mercy, and he was making no immediate movements to amend that. In fact, that something in his eyes, the particular clench of his jaw…

He was holding back. Offering you control. And you needed to take it while you had the option.

Pressing your hands into his chest, you lifted and then sank down on him until your hips were flush with his. William groaned, his grip spasming on your ass. In time with your breathing, you began to ride him slowly, feeling every inch of his flesh drag against yours. To your satisfaction, you watched his eyelids flutter for just a moment before his attention locked onto the rise and fall of your breasts in front of him.

A surge of pride emboldened your movements, and you settled into a measured rhythm, your head dropping back at the steady, encompassing pleasure of his cock grinding inside you. You found your fingers itching to free more of his skin, sliding up to his tie, your hips never ceasing their elastic roll.

Just as you hooked into the knot at his throat, William’s hands came up to encircle your wrists, fixing your palms back on his chest.

“Not now,” he panted.

You pouted, straightening to sink all the way down on him. “Why?”

A muscle in his jaw jumped. His hands delved under your petticoats again to grip your hips.

“Later.”

With that, he drove his hips upward and speared you with his cock.

You yelped and collapsed over him, clutching his shoulders as he fucked you savagely. A moan dragged through your lips and suddenly you couldn’t quite recall what you’d just been so annoyed about as the pounding of his cock vaporized every last wisp of thought.

Eyes rolling into your skull, you clung to him like a sail to a storm-ravaged mast, your consciousness centering down on the bright spot deep in your belly that he struck over and over with every thrust. Distantly, you felt yourself driving down to meet him, heard the lascivious slap of skin where your bodies met. You knew you needed just a little more, knew that the barest touch to your clit would send you over the edge. But just as your hand plunged down to deliver you to sweet oblivion, William stilled.

He anchored you down against him, hands a vise on your hips and breath ragged in his chest. Whining in bereavement, you leaned back to look at him, both plea and question in your eyes.

“Take it,” he rasped, pushing your upper body backward and wrenching your petticoats up to bare you to his view. “Take your pleasure and show me.”

You stalled, head spinning and lungs gasping for air, as you processed his words. Flames burst beneath your skin. Eyes on his, you leaned back until your elbows rested on the desk behind you. You were so close, he’d nearly sent you careening into bliss already, but the knowledge that he wanted to watch electrified you.

Lip pinched between your teeth, you braced on your elbows and began to roll your hips. William exhaled, nostrils flaring, as he watched your cunt swallow him.

The new angle was intense, and you whimpered as you found that tender spot inside and fucked yourself against it, stroking it over and over with his cock until sparks showered through your vision.

Trembling, body desperate and aching, you reached down between your legs and found your clit. A breath of sheer pleasure shuddered from your chest as you swirled the tender nub once, twice, hips stuttering in their rhythm. The shower of sparks coalesced to a fuse, zipping hot and fast towards the bright center of you.

“William, I’m—God, I…”

“Come off,” he snarled, gripping your thighs with bruising strength. “Come for me.”

Your head fell back, the fuse reached your center, and your vision erupted white. Fragments of bliss ripped through your limbs, tore a cry from your throat, sundered and remade you again and again. Somewhere beyond conscious control, your body kept moving, drawing out your pleasure to impossible lengths, chasing the last embers of your orgasm until they finally crumbled to blistering ash.

Before you could even return to yourself, William scooped an arm around your middle, lifted you off of his cock, and dumped you to your knees on the floor.

“Ugh!” Your head spun. He stood. “You basta—”

He seized the back of your head and wrenched it back. Reeling, you clutched his thighs for support, your jaw dropping in response just in time to see him fist his cock in his other hand and pump it furiously above you.

Your irritation evaporated—his proud, flushed cock instantly hypnotized you. You laid your tongue over the pillow of your lower lip, and pleaded with your eyes for what he was about to give you.

William swore under his breath and came with a tattered groan, spilling warm salt over your tongue, your lips, your cheeks. His grip on your hair relaxed as his orgasm faded, and something possessed you to lean forward and suckle the tip of his cock for the very last remnants of his seed. He seethed, grip flexing behind your skull as you gazed up at him, letting out a tiny moan at the taste of your combined bliss. Then you sat back on your heels and swallowed.

William admired his handiwork, his tongue rolling in his mouth. Reaching out, he thumbed your jaw in a distantly familiar motion, gathering his seed from your skin and pushing it back over your lips. He scraped it onto your teeth, and you swallowed again. Both of you exhaled, the absence of tension flooding the room with warmth.

“I hope this isn’t considered part of my rations,” you said, half-grinning as you wiped his remaining essence off with the inside of your petticoats.

He snorted, tucking himself away. “That could be arranged, if you refuse to follow decorum.”

Your pulse skipped. “Follow decorum,” you mused coyly. “How terribly pedestrian.”

With a smirk, William stepped back, offering a hand. By instinct, you moved to slap it away—you didn’t need his help to get up—only to realize that you’d grasped it. He paused, then tightened his grip and pulled you to your feet, the effort bringing you chest to chest, and you flinched, your still-sensitive nipples grazing his jacket.

You met his gaze and forgot to breathe. A peculiar, tender part of you longed to kiss him.

William’s eyes flashed to your lips. Heat flushed your cheeks, your neck. Averting your gaze, you shoved your breasts back into your stays and tugged your jacket closed to hold it all together. You slunk from behind the desk, wanting to force distance between yourself and whatever bizarre urge you’d just experienced.

“Where might I find my accommodations?” You busied your hands by forcing your jacket shut with the few pins still stuck in the fabric.

He was silent for a moment. “Out the door, make a left, last door on the right.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Not in the barracks? Or the hospital?”

“No.” William exhaled, returned to his seat, and said nothing else.

“Oh.” Your throat felt thick. You nodded, walking toward the door. “Shall I…” See you tomorrow hung on your tongue. You hated the thought of sounding so desperate. “Close the door behind me?”

He shrugged. “If you so wish.”

You nodded, made to exit, but hesitated at the door. The candlelight flickered in tempo with your heart. Before turning the knob, you stole a glimpse over your shoulder, memorizing the fading flush in his cheeks. His gaze snapped to yours, and your attention shot to the floor. You opened the door and slipped into the hallway.

As you followed his directions, your core twinged with a familiar ache that you'd grown to miss. Not just the sensation itself, but what it represented, too—that you'd had him inside of you, that you'd managed some form of intimacy with him that few others seemed to approach (barring, of course, his history, which you didn't care to know). The fact he'd been so hungry, that he sought to sate that hunger through you, that he seemed to, in fact, hunger solely for you as you did for him…

Something about that satisfied you far more than almost any orgasm you'd had.

You arrived at the door he'd directed you to, and turned the knob to step inside. It opened to you, candlelight revealing a neatly made bed, a credenza sprinkled with dried flowers, a nightstand garnished with a couple of books and a pewter flask. Your heart fluttered before falling into your stomach.

This was his room.

Fighting the urge to run, you shut the door behind you, casting a glance across the floor, spying a satchel, a cartridge box. His saber leaned against the wall. All weapons that he’d once wielded against you.

But you had no reason to suspect he'd kill you now.

As long as he didn't find out what you and Goddard had gotten up to.

Taking a breath, you braved a few more steps forward. Now, perhaps more than ever, was the time to stay rational. Keep your wits about you. Play your cards carefully.

But care danced perilously close to a cliff’s edge as your brief tour of the room brought you to a halt beside his bed. You swallowed, staring at it. Suddenly your clothes felt stifling. Yet the idea of shedding them here made you shiver.

If only you hadn't stowed your pistol in your belongings before you arrived. Surely every woman wished for the protection of a pistol around the man with whom she'd decided to share a bed.

Inhaling, you swept your eyes over the headboard, the quilt, hating the glimmer of glee you felt realizing you'd wake up next to him again. The anticipation of his eyes in the morning light, his body in arm’s reach, his erection greeting you with the sunrise—the mere thought inspired a thrill.

You glanced down at your bodice, considering it for a moment before easing the pins free and letting it fall from your shoulders.

Your stays, already irremediable in their current state, sloughed from you like scales. You dropped them with a sigh, stretching your shoulders and coasting your palms over your ravaged breasts beneath your shift. The feeling touched a tiny smile to your lips.

It was almost irritating how insatiable you'd become for intercourse. Perhaps this was why it was demanded that it wait until wedlock. It was as if you'd been born anew into your womanhood, and the only way you could breathe was through the length of a cock.

Though, to be fair, it seemed to only be true for William’s cock. The idea of finding yourself at the end of Pearce’s made you want to vomit.

To shake that mental image, you cut your eyes to William’s nightstand. Il Principe crowned the stack of books, a sprig of dried milkweed marking the page he’d last read. Your head tilted towards it, fingertips reaching out to brush the papery petals.

You imagined that you were this flower. Admired in its wildness, cradled carefully, plucked with tender precision.

Or should you think it cruel that such a bloom was claimed for its temporal pleasures, rather than left alive to bathe in sunlight and drink the summer rain?

William’s words floated to mind.

You would have sought the wolves.

Did you truly crave brutality? It seemed that was doubtless—but what about it so enthralled you? Could it coexist with tenderness? Within the same man? Within your very own desires?

Your head began to pound. You were meant to clear your mind, not muddle it further.

Drawing a deep breath, you crossed your arms over yourself. You trailed your fingers up to your shoulders, back down over your breasts, your ribs, allowing each sensation to ground and refocus you. Finding the tie of your petticoats, you released them into a pool around your feet and stepped out, leaving your shoes and stockings behind as well. After a pause, your shift flew over your head to join the pile, and the darkness swathed your bare skin.

You took time to wash off in the basin before you slipped under the sheets, the linen cool and crisp. A soft sigh escaped you, and you nestled against the pillows. It was so much easier to relax in a man’s bed without him in it. You drew in a long, deep breath, a familiar scent filling your nostrils, lingering as your muscles unraveled. Involuntarily, you nuzzled into it.

Leather, woven with smoke, sandalwood. Apple. You'd breathed them in just minutes ago.

William.

You exhaled. As badly as you wanted to feel disturbed, it was late. You were tired. And you simply did not care to question why rolling in sheets redolent of him was unlocking your joints, allowing your eyes to shutter in comfort.

There was no reason to fight it, you decided. This was like a dog sleeping soundly in the clothes of its master, lulled into safety by the familiarity.

You also decided you wouldn't reveal to William that you'd ever compared yourself to a dog and him to your master in any analogy regarding your relationship.

Settling into the bed, you sighed in relief. Sleep swept you like a wave of a receding tide, its body littered with the dregs of memories from the past few days. They floated around you, drifting while you hovered at the surface.

Grace, Ferguson, Pearce, Goddard; cypher, code, passphrase, permission; pain, pleasure, pounding, pumping, William, William, William, William—

All of these thoughts sank, one after the other, into the depths of the sea. You rocked in the ocean’s embrace, balanced on the edge of consciousness for unknowable winds of time. It only fully swaddled you after another pair of footsteps had entered the room, another breath had snuffed the candle, another body joined yours in the bed.

[meep-meep-richie]

my holy trinity

[ravenstoneart]

Some practice of Jason Isaacs in the Patriot!