And a Bottle of Rum - fic
Apr. 16th, 2026 02:22 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deird1For some reason, I felt moved to write femslash pirate dubcon smut. Not sure where that came from.
Title: And a Bottle of Rum
Rating: R
Word Count: 1536
Summary: Seriously, guys, this is just smut.
And a Bottle of Rum
The door slammed behind her, and Jane let out a breath that was nearly a sob, quickly stifled. It was not safe to cry. Not here.
She smoothed her skirts with shaking hands, trying to calm herself, as she looked around the cabin she was in. It was large – at least compared to the one Jane had slept in these last three weeks – with glass windows looking out towards the back of the ship. Behind them, the Blue Mary was growing smaller and smaller, although still close enough that Jane could see that they had yet to raise the sails. At least the ship was still floating; when they were attacked she had made sure that all was lost, and they would all end at the bottom of the ocean, but the pirates had been more gold-thirsty than bloodthirsty.
The cabin had a table, fastened to the floor, two chairs, a bed, two large chests, and a mandolin (or possibly a lute, Jane had never been sure of the difference). All of fine quality, all kept in good condition. Not what she had expected.
The door behind her opened, and Jane spun, and backed away, colliding with a chair. She grabbed at it for support.
The captain had entered. She closed the door behind her, and looked at Jane speculatively. She said nothing, but removed her tricorne hat, hanging it on a peg behind the door, and then began to unbuckle her sword.
Earlier things had happened so quickly, so frantically, that Jane had barely had time to see what the captain looked like. Now, she took her in fully, moving from the dark brown men’s boots, to the breeches (tensing as her eyes passed over the blood stains, still fresh), to the blue waistcoat, the white shirt, and the long reddish curls, free and luxurious, without even a ribbon to tie them back. Her eyes reached the captain’s face, and found the captain still watching her. The captain raised an eyebrow, and asked calmly, “Your name?”
Jane’s fingers gripped the top of the chair behind her. “Miss Jane Casterford, ma’am,” It came out a whisper.
The captain let out a short laugh. “‘Ma’am?’ No.” She hung her sword next to her hat, and said “You can call me ‘captain’.”
“Yes, m– …uh. Yes… captain.” She didn’t seem to have been run through yet, so Jane took a breath, and continued, slightly louder, “What will you do with the children?”
The captain frowned. “With the– oh, them.” She shrugged. “That was just to stop your shipmates from following us. I’ll drop them at Port Augusta in a day or so, they’ll be right.”
Surely not. Jane had heard many tales of the rapacious pirates that roamed these seas, and none of them had ever included children being delivered safely to land. “But…”
“But what?” The captain looked her in the eyes. “I don’t kill children.”
A ludicrous statement, given that not an hour before Jane had witnessed her shoot three men in cold blood – poor Mr Dawes – and yet delivered so easily and frankly that somehow Jane believed her.
The captain walked a couple of steps around her, looking Jane up and down, her eyes almost… hungry.
Jane swallowed, nervously, and asked, “And what will you do with – with me?”
“If you are troublesome, you shall walk the plank,” the captain said calmly.
Jane tensed, somehow resisting the urge to back away further.
“If you are boring, I will give you to the crew, and they can do what they like with you.”
The ladies of the crew – no, Jane could not call them ladies even for the sake of courtesy – the women, the wenches of the crew were a crude, bawdy lot. Jane shuddered at the thought of what possible indignities she might suffer under such hands. Oh, merciful heavens, what would become of her?
“But if you prove interesting…” The captain stepped in closer, and brushed a loose strand of hair from Jane’s face. “Cop a feel, why don’t you,” she suggested.
An expression Jane had never heard. What was she to…
“My tits. Grab my tits.”
Jane looked at her, slightly baffled. The captain rolled her eyes, grabbed Jane’s wrists, and pulled until her hands were firmly placed on the captain’s bodice. Jane could feel her breasts – full, soft – beneath the thin fabric.
Jane couldn’t speak – could barely think – as the pirate put a hand to her waist and pulled her in even closer. She just stood there, frozen in bewilderment, her hands pressed to the other woman’s breasts, as the captain, leaning in, kissed her directly on the lips.
Her lips were soft, yet the kiss was confident and self-assured. After a moment, the captain pulled back and asked, “Done that before?”
Jane shook her head, mutely.
“Yeah, I figured.” She raised an eyebrow. “Want to try again?”
Jane hesitated, then nodded.
The captain frowned, unimpressed. “You know, I expect some basic manners aboard ship. Like talking. Do you want to try again?”
Jane took a breath, and said, “Yes. Yes, captain.”
The captain grinned – “Fair enough,” – and kissed her again. This time, though, she didn’t pull away, but kept going, tangling her fingers in Jane’s hair. Jane started to kiss her back, moving her lips to match the captain, and feeling her skin almost tingle. It was a somewhat heady experience.
Her hands were still on the captain’s bodice. Jane wasn’t sure whether to leave them there, or… but a slight movement of one hand brought a pleased sound from the captain – a sound which continued as Jane deliberately moved both hands against her breasts – so Jane kept doing it, and also kept kissing the captain, entirely caught up in this strange and unexpected happening.
Finally they broke apart, breathing hard.
“Not bad, for a beginner.”
Jane wasn’t sure what to say. She pulled her hands back, and dropped her gaze, fumbling for words. “I didn’t… It’s not…”
“Relax, pretty thing.” The captain held Jane by the waist and pushed her gently, backing her across the cabin until her legs were touching the edge of the bed. “Take a seat.”
“Umm… Alright.”
The captain raised an eyebrow. “Yes, captain.”
“Yes, captain.” Jane sat down carefully on the bedspread, and the captain sat beside her – not politely at a distance, as Jane was accustomed to, but touching her, almost on top of her. She leant over and put a hand at the bottom of Jane’s skirts, then ran it slowly up Jane’s bare leg until she reached the hem of Jane’s bloomers. Her hand felt calloused and rough.
“Now,” she murmured. “Let’s see what we can coax out of you.” And she started kissing Jane once again.
This was different to before. They were now sitting – and fairly soon lying – down, and the captain took full advantage of the fact, kissing her way along Jane’s neck while her hands worked expertly on Jane’s clothing, until suddenly the captain’s mouth was on Jane’s left breast and her hand was grasping Jane’s thigh, and Jane’s bloomers were somehow around her ankles, and Jane was lying back on the bed gasping with her hair tumbling out of its pins, and she still wasn’t sure how any of it had happened.
She didn’t want it to stop, though.
The captain surfaced. “Enough?”
“No.”
“Captain. Call me captain. More?”
“Yes. Captain.”
The captain grinned, and returned to business. She kissed Jane – on the mouth once again – and slid her hand from thigh to buttocks, to what Jane’s governess had always referred to primly as Jane’s “flower”.
Merciful heavens.
She needed better swear words for this. Jane racked her brains for vocabulary, but even the mildest words she knew were slipping from her grasp as the captain rubbed firmly against Jane’s flower and then pushed her fingers into its wet centre. Jane arched her back, moaning, without even a thought for who could be listening. The tension built inside her, higher, higher, higher… gone.
What?
Jane propped herself up on an elbow, and looked at the captain, who for some reason had stopped, and was watching Jane calmly.
She couldn’t just stop like that. It was unfair.
“You can’t–” Jane didn’t know what to say. “You need to–” She stopped, out of words. And then grabbed the captain’s hand and pushed it, firmly, back to the centre of Jane’s flower, where it belonged.
The captain’s fingers resumed their rhythm, quite willingly, and Jane huffed an indignant “Thank you” before dropping her head back to the pillow.
She managed to get out another “merciful heavens” and one or two “oh goodness”s before the rest of her words dissolved back into moaning and the world became nothing but the captain’s hands. And then she was done, gasping, lying back on the now very crumpled bedspread as the captain looked down at her. The captain leaned in for a kiss, and Jane kissed her back, hungrily.
“It looks like you’re pretty interesting,” the captain murmured, grinning once more. “Splendid.”
Title: And a Bottle of Rum
Rating: R
Word Count: 1536
Summary: Seriously, guys, this is just smut.
And a Bottle of Rum
The door slammed behind her, and Jane let out a breath that was nearly a sob, quickly stifled. It was not safe to cry. Not here.
She smoothed her skirts with shaking hands, trying to calm herself, as she looked around the cabin she was in. It was large – at least compared to the one Jane had slept in these last three weeks – with glass windows looking out towards the back of the ship. Behind them, the Blue Mary was growing smaller and smaller, although still close enough that Jane could see that they had yet to raise the sails. At least the ship was still floating; when they were attacked she had made sure that all was lost, and they would all end at the bottom of the ocean, but the pirates had been more gold-thirsty than bloodthirsty.
The cabin had a table, fastened to the floor, two chairs, a bed, two large chests, and a mandolin (or possibly a lute, Jane had never been sure of the difference). All of fine quality, all kept in good condition. Not what she had expected.
The door behind her opened, and Jane spun, and backed away, colliding with a chair. She grabbed at it for support.
The captain had entered. She closed the door behind her, and looked at Jane speculatively. She said nothing, but removed her tricorne hat, hanging it on a peg behind the door, and then began to unbuckle her sword.
Earlier things had happened so quickly, so frantically, that Jane had barely had time to see what the captain looked like. Now, she took her in fully, moving from the dark brown men’s boots, to the breeches (tensing as her eyes passed over the blood stains, still fresh), to the blue waistcoat, the white shirt, and the long reddish curls, free and luxurious, without even a ribbon to tie them back. Her eyes reached the captain’s face, and found the captain still watching her. The captain raised an eyebrow, and asked calmly, “Your name?”
Jane’s fingers gripped the top of the chair behind her. “Miss Jane Casterford, ma’am,” It came out a whisper.
The captain let out a short laugh. “‘Ma’am?’ No.” She hung her sword next to her hat, and said “You can call me ‘captain’.”
“Yes, m– …uh. Yes… captain.” She didn’t seem to have been run through yet, so Jane took a breath, and continued, slightly louder, “What will you do with the children?”
The captain frowned. “With the– oh, them.” She shrugged. “That was just to stop your shipmates from following us. I’ll drop them at Port Augusta in a day or so, they’ll be right.”
Surely not. Jane had heard many tales of the rapacious pirates that roamed these seas, and none of them had ever included children being delivered safely to land. “But…”
“But what?” The captain looked her in the eyes. “I don’t kill children.”
A ludicrous statement, given that not an hour before Jane had witnessed her shoot three men in cold blood – poor Mr Dawes – and yet delivered so easily and frankly that somehow Jane believed her.
The captain walked a couple of steps around her, looking Jane up and down, her eyes almost… hungry.
Jane swallowed, nervously, and asked, “And what will you do with – with me?”
“If you are troublesome, you shall walk the plank,” the captain said calmly.
Jane tensed, somehow resisting the urge to back away further.
“If you are boring, I will give you to the crew, and they can do what they like with you.”
The ladies of the crew – no, Jane could not call them ladies even for the sake of courtesy – the women, the wenches of the crew were a crude, bawdy lot. Jane shuddered at the thought of what possible indignities she might suffer under such hands. Oh, merciful heavens, what would become of her?
“But if you prove interesting…” The captain stepped in closer, and brushed a loose strand of hair from Jane’s face. “Cop a feel, why don’t you,” she suggested.
An expression Jane had never heard. What was she to…
“My tits. Grab my tits.”
Jane looked at her, slightly baffled. The captain rolled her eyes, grabbed Jane’s wrists, and pulled until her hands were firmly placed on the captain’s bodice. Jane could feel her breasts – full, soft – beneath the thin fabric.
Jane couldn’t speak – could barely think – as the pirate put a hand to her waist and pulled her in even closer. She just stood there, frozen in bewilderment, her hands pressed to the other woman’s breasts, as the captain, leaning in, kissed her directly on the lips.
Her lips were soft, yet the kiss was confident and self-assured. After a moment, the captain pulled back and asked, “Done that before?”
Jane shook her head, mutely.
“Yeah, I figured.” She raised an eyebrow. “Want to try again?”
Jane hesitated, then nodded.
The captain frowned, unimpressed. “You know, I expect some basic manners aboard ship. Like talking. Do you want to try again?”
Jane took a breath, and said, “Yes. Yes, captain.”
The captain grinned – “Fair enough,” – and kissed her again. This time, though, she didn’t pull away, but kept going, tangling her fingers in Jane’s hair. Jane started to kiss her back, moving her lips to match the captain, and feeling her skin almost tingle. It was a somewhat heady experience.
Her hands were still on the captain’s bodice. Jane wasn’t sure whether to leave them there, or… but a slight movement of one hand brought a pleased sound from the captain – a sound which continued as Jane deliberately moved both hands against her breasts – so Jane kept doing it, and also kept kissing the captain, entirely caught up in this strange and unexpected happening.
Finally they broke apart, breathing hard.
“Not bad, for a beginner.”
Jane wasn’t sure what to say. She pulled her hands back, and dropped her gaze, fumbling for words. “I didn’t… It’s not…”
“Relax, pretty thing.” The captain held Jane by the waist and pushed her gently, backing her across the cabin until her legs were touching the edge of the bed. “Take a seat.”
“Umm… Alright.”
The captain raised an eyebrow. “Yes, captain.”
“Yes, captain.” Jane sat down carefully on the bedspread, and the captain sat beside her – not politely at a distance, as Jane was accustomed to, but touching her, almost on top of her. She leant over and put a hand at the bottom of Jane’s skirts, then ran it slowly up Jane’s bare leg until she reached the hem of Jane’s bloomers. Her hand felt calloused and rough.
“Now,” she murmured. “Let’s see what we can coax out of you.” And she started kissing Jane once again.
This was different to before. They were now sitting – and fairly soon lying – down, and the captain took full advantage of the fact, kissing her way along Jane’s neck while her hands worked expertly on Jane’s clothing, until suddenly the captain’s mouth was on Jane’s left breast and her hand was grasping Jane’s thigh, and Jane’s bloomers were somehow around her ankles, and Jane was lying back on the bed gasping with her hair tumbling out of its pins, and she still wasn’t sure how any of it had happened.
She didn’t want it to stop, though.
The captain surfaced. “Enough?”
“No.”
“Captain. Call me captain. More?”
“Yes. Captain.”
The captain grinned, and returned to business. She kissed Jane – on the mouth once again – and slid her hand from thigh to buttocks, to what Jane’s governess had always referred to primly as Jane’s “flower”.
Merciful heavens.
She needed better swear words for this. Jane racked her brains for vocabulary, but even the mildest words she knew were slipping from her grasp as the captain rubbed firmly against Jane’s flower and then pushed her fingers into its wet centre. Jane arched her back, moaning, without even a thought for who could be listening. The tension built inside her, higher, higher, higher… gone.
What?
Jane propped herself up on an elbow, and looked at the captain, who for some reason had stopped, and was watching Jane calmly.
She couldn’t just stop like that. It was unfair.
“You can’t–” Jane didn’t know what to say. “You need to–” She stopped, out of words. And then grabbed the captain’s hand and pushed it, firmly, back to the centre of Jane’s flower, where it belonged.
The captain’s fingers resumed their rhythm, quite willingly, and Jane huffed an indignant “Thank you” before dropping her head back to the pillow.
She managed to get out another “merciful heavens” and one or two “oh goodness”s before the rest of her words dissolved back into moaning and the world became nothing but the captain’s hands. And then she was done, gasping, lying back on the now very crumpled bedspread as the captain looked down at her. The captain leaned in for a kiss, and Jane kissed her back, hungrily.
“It looks like you’re pretty interesting,” the captain murmured, grinning once more. “Splendid.”