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alannah-corvaine · 5 months ago

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19) angry sex in the middle of a fight

"Jacke, we've been over this—"

"An' we'll go over it again!"

Brina heaves a sigh of annoyance, her expression pinched with frustration. This is the same argument they've been having their whole lives and it's so tired. She'd really been hoping that her years away from home would have somehow mellowed Jacke's overprotectiveness, but it seems not.

"You think I can't take care of myself."

Jacke rolls his eyes and huffs. "That's not what I said n'you know it."

"But that's what you implied."

She inspects her nails coolly, watching out of the corner of her eye as the rogue's face turns ruddy and he attempts to walk back what he thinks he didn't say. Brina loves Jacke, she really does, and has since she was eight years old. But sometimes he can be thicker than a brick and doesn't think when he speaks.

And today it's pissing her off.

"I never—"

"Come here."

Green eyes blink at her, confused.

There is no warning or attempt to explain herself as she rapidly steps into his personal space, upending his entire body with a quick sweep of her leg. In the blink of an eye, Jacke is flat on his back on the floor, still too caught up in surprise to mount a defense. In the next breath, she pins him down with her body and presses the edge of a dagger to his throat.

A single raised eyebrow tells her that her point has been made, but Jacke's never been the sort to let things go easily.

So it's not unexpected when he deftly rolls them over, reversing their positions. Hands pinned, Brina twists beneath him and kicks his shin hard, enough for him to hiss in pain and momentarily loosen his grip on her. She follows it up with a knee to his abdomen, close enough to his kidney to hurt, but not do any real damage.

"Swivin' hells, Brina—"

She doesn't relent.

They continue to grapple for the next several minutes, neither able to hold a definitive advantage for long. Jacke might be stronger, but Brina is more flexible, especially after years spent training as a dancer, and she manages to evade his attempts to pin her to the floor again.

Their mingled heavy breathing is loud in the empty afternoon silence as they finally still. The sun filters in through the open window, dust motes dancing in the light that bathes them in its warmth.

Brina sits straddling Jacke's lap, dagger pointed lazily at his chin. "Had enough?"

He attempts to sit up and grimaces. "Ye gonna keep paintin' me with bruises if I say no?"

"Maybe," she says lightly.

Brina has no real intention of hurting him, she just wants him to acknowledge that she's capable of it. She knows that he knows she is. That's why this whole stupid fight is ridiculous and a waste of breath. But Jacke is obstinate in the same way that a brick wall is immovable. And sometimes you have to wail on it a bit before it sees reason and crumbles down.

"Fine," he grumbles, going limp and letting his head fall back to the floor.

His chest rises and falls with his rhythmic breathing, and Brina finds herself mesmerized. A sudden awareness of where she is strikes her as she sits astride him, and warmth suffuses her whole body.

It's not like she's never seen that v-shaped sliver of his skin before, given his persistant lack of interest in buttoning his shirt, but now it's fascinating to her in a way that she's never allowed herself to think about.

Keeping her face neutral, she flicks the tip of her knife under one of the few buttons holding his shirt together, severing the thread tying it to the fabric.

Jacke frowns up at her. "What'n was that for? Haven't ye ruined my duds enough?"

Brina merely hums in response, only half listening. She has an impish desire to do it again, so she does. A second button goes flying and Jacke squawks in indignation.

He grips her thighs as a reflex and tries to pull himself up into a sitting position, but something in her expression stops him dead.

The world seems to slow down, the air between them becoming heavy. She doesn't know what he sees in her face, doesn't even know how she's feeling, really. Only that something has shifted, each movement between them now somehow significant.

Suddenly her mouth feels as dry as the Sagolii desert, and the act of her tongue darting out to wet her lips feels charged with unintended implication. And for once, Jacke doesn't seem to miss it.

"Bri-?"

He says her name slow and unsure, like he can feel the thick and nameless energy between them, like he doesn't know what to make of it. His fingers flex against her thighs, exerting the tiniest pressure, and blood roars in her ears.

She doesn't hear her own gasp, has no memory of jerking her hips in response to his featherlight touch; every cell in her body is immediately fixated on that sensation, raucously calling for more.

Desire like wildfire races through her veins, striking her like lightning, stealing her breath and leaving her trembling. Jacke is rigid beneath her, his grip like iron, bright eyes flickering from her face to her hips. There is something like fear in his gaze, and Brina struggles to make sense of it.

Through an unfamiliar haze of lust, she realizes that she's seated directly on top of his manhood, twitching and hardening between her thighs. A flood of thoughts she's previously forbidden herself to have come crashing into her consciousness, though she cannot for the life of her at this moment recall why she should have pushed them away.

It's so hard to think when she is made of want.

And then Jacke is gently pushing her off of him, his face a mask of guilt and regret. "Sorry, Bri, I shouldn' have—"

The loss of him beneath her hits Brina like a punch to the gut. She fixes Jacke with a piercing stare as he moves away, a thousand thoughts and feelings warring inside her head.

"Sorry for what?"

Her tone is short and clipped, she can't help it. She'd just discovered something wonderful and now he's taking it away and for what? For some emotion she can't read in his eyes? For a fight that doesn't even matter? She pulls herself to her feet, legs wobbly and unsteady, a fire burning fierce in her gaze.

Jacke scratches the back of his head and looks anywhere but at her, which only serves to heighten her aggravation. "Should'na underestimated ya, should'na started this banter again..."

"That's a load of horseshite, Jacke."

Her voice is louder than it's been in years. She hasn't yelled at him since they were kids, and Brina almost feels bad about it, but he's being evasive and it rankles more than it usually does. She doesn't even know why, except that this feels like a moment that they've been dancing around for a long time, and she's tired of running from it.

So she gets up in his face, refuses to let him avoid her. Her mother would be absolutely appalled at her unladylike confrontational behavior, but then she'd also have a fainting fit over her sitting on the lap of her best friend like a strumpet, so she lets the opinions of a dead woman lie.

"Shouldn't have what, Jacke? What exactly is it that you think you should be sorry for."

Her eyes narrow as his lips press into a thin line, holding their silence. He still won't look at her, so Brina takes his face between her hands and compels him. "Jacke, talk to me."

They stay like that, silent for what feels like a long time. Jacke shifts uncomfortably, but doesn't look away. He seems to be considering any number of things as he looks at her, his expression somber and almost sad. When he finally does speak, his voice is small and quiet.

"...m'sorry for takin' advantage of ye."

Brina blinks, not expecting that answer at all. She takes a minute to compose her thoughts.

"I thought," she says slowly, "that after we talked about everything that happened, that you understood. I love you. More than anything, more than everything. I promise you, you could never take advantage of me, because it's given freely."

His brow furrows as his eyes search hers. "I don't want to lose ye 'cause I were an addle pate."

There's an unspoken pain in his voice, a piece of debris from the years she was gone, and oh how it breaks her heart to hear it. Gently, she pulls his head down to rest his forehead against her own.

"You already did," she whispers, "but I came back, and I always will, because you're my home."

She kisses him then and thinks of Eulmore, of the loneliest months of her life spent staring out at an empty sea. She recalls the long years of silence, her words buried beneath the earth with her family. Her life is a mosaic of regrets.

Never never never again will she waste the time given to her.

Jacke doesn't push her away this time when she tugs at his shirt, the remaining buttons giving way to her grasping fingers with nary a fight. Brina doesn't stop to look at the skin she's unveiled; she could map out his scars in the dark.

He seems to sense her inspired urgency, mouth slanting hot against hers as he pulls her close. His fingers are a brand against her hip, sliding beneath the linen fabric of her shirt. A hum of approval escapes her.

She should be nervous, she supposes, as the clothes disappear from her body. Jacke's lips are at her neck and moving south as one hand tugs her blonde hair loose from its long ponytail, the other pressed against the small of her back.

But there's no room in her head for doubt, only wonder.

It's always been Jacke, she knows. Ever since the day they met at her father's warehouse, sharing secrets before names, and every day since. And there will only ever be Jacke until she draws her last breath.

She doesn't have to wonder if he loves her back or finds her beautiful; she feels it in his every touch.

And when her hands find the drawstring of his pants and slip inside to grasp him, she hears it in the groan that escapes his lips and the curses that he murmers low in her ear as she squeezes and strokes him slowly.

He softly pants her name like a prayer as she sinks to her knees, pressing kisses to his shuddering thighs. Her mouth on him is an apology, a love letter to all the time that they've lost.

He doesn't let her finish him, however, not when he still has his own amends to make.

His fingers find her hot wet heat, followed shortly by his tongue, and she sees stars as he performs his penance. His name is a litany from her lips, falling like rain over a parched desert.

She cums so hard she cries, unaware of her tears until he's wiping them away and whispering sweet nothings that are everything. The adoration in his voice is enough to heal every wound she's ever had.

Pulling him close, til they are skin to skin with nothing between them, Brina kisses him softly. In her thoughts she offers thanks to every divine that had a hand in bringing her back to him. A content sigh leaves her as she twines her legs around his hips.

Jacke's breath hitches. For just a moment, he hesitates. "...yer sure?"

"You're the only thing I've ever been sure of," she tells him, a smile hiding at the corners of her mouth.

It's all the reassurance he needs, pushing into her with a reverence that feels religious. The momentary discomfort is nothing to her; the movement of his hips sends her spiraling, lost in sensations she's never dreamed existed.

She had thought, all her life, that they were close. That the ties of their friendship had anchored to the deepest parts of her soul and it was enough. She didn't know—how could she?—that it could be like this. He is everywhere—above her, inside her, sharing her heartbeats.

Her given name escapes his lips in an exhale as he sinks into her once more, and she threads her fingers through his hair and considers that this is the first time in her life that she hasn't minded how it sounds.

"Call me that again," she sighs, back arching and hips rising to meet the angle of his thrusts.

"Rebecca," he groans, too far gone to tease her.

The sound of her name sets her off like a powderkeg; she shudders and whines beneath him, gasping for air, trying to hold on to the powerful ripples of pleasure that reverberate through her body in shockwaves. All too soon, they slip through her fingers, leaving her feeling boneless and sated.

Above her, Jacke rides out his own release, and the primal noises he makes as he buries his face in her neck have her ready to ravish him once more before they've even recovered.

For a long while they lay in a gasping, sweaty heap, too lost in the moment to ruin it with words.

Eventually, Jacke rolls off of her, and Brina discreetly stretches parts of her that had started going numb.

"That was—" she starts.

"Why in hells did we wait so long t'do that for??"

Jacke looks so affronted that she can't help but laugh, which only makes him frown harder. "Think that's funny, do ye?"

"Mhmm," she hums, eyes twinkling with mirth. With a grunt, she pulls herself into a sitting position, intent on fixing her messy hair, when Jacke reaches over and pulls her back on top of him.

"Hey!" she splutters, limbs akimbo as she attempts to right herself.

"I think," he declares as he kisses her shoulder, "that we've got lots o'time to make up fer. And right now's as good a time as any t'start."

Brina closes her eyes and smiles, leaning into his touch. "Is that so?"

"Mhmm," he echoes, pulling her down to him.

"If you," she murmurs between heated kisses, "say so."

After that, there is no more talk, only the silent language that lovers speak, long into the night.

#posts this before i can look at it again and change my mind #so we went a little bit off prompt but im mostly pretty pleased with how this turned out #they're one of my longest running ships and they deserve a good write up #my apologies for butchering jacke every time i have to write his dialogue #keeper's captain #drabbles #my writing

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