Misty Dawn & The Raven Ch. 9

Olivia leaned her elbows on the gunnel, the sea wind buffeting the hem of Charles' shirt over the full curve of her bottom as she scanned the horizon. Charles could not help but scan her body as she leaned on the rail. Her breasts swinging low against the loosely laced neck of the blouse, the soft collar flapping against her neck slowly in the breeze. Her long dark legs raising her ass high as she relaxed on the gunnel, the hem fluttering slightly with the wind. A half smile crossed Charles' lips, "It has been a long time Olivia," he said quietly.

"Yeess," Olivia said turning her head and letting some tightly curled strands of hair blow over her cheek as she looked up at the Raven's master. "Wheere wees eet? Madagascar? Or was it Hormuz?" She asked with a smile. Charles grinned and wrapped an arm over her shoulders, "It was Hormuz, you were looting the Turks of the gulf for the Portuguese then I think." He did not mention the Persian rug that she undoubtedly still had in her own cabin, the one he had her rolled up in and tied as he through her into a long boat to make land with her. However, he could not suppress the spark of memory in his ice blue eyes.

"Hormuz, it was, aye," Olivia smiled as she remembered that night and her carpet. The ancient Turkish tales of flying carpets had always amused her, but when one flies upon a carpet, they become so real. Her smile began to fade, as she looked into Charles' eyes, reminding her of that night so long ago. She turned her face back to the sea as she cursed under her breath. Despite how she enjoyed being plucked from the waves, and to see Charles once more, she above all wanted to return to The Witch, her one true love. That ship was her entire life; they were mated like mother and daughter to one another. They existed for and because of one another. What would she do without her ship, what is a captain without a ship? What is a ship without a captain? Her long fingers curled their sharp nails into her palms, but her dark complexion would not allow a trace of emotion to cross its surface. Though inside she felt, she was taking on water fast.

Charles looked hard as she turned away from him; he pulled her close to him to comfort an old friend. Olivia ripped herself from his warm grasp and spun her bare heels on the deck, bringing a hard fist toward his face. Charles caught the fist like a tossed mango, he deflected the blow and held tight to her fist. Olivia was not through yet she tried lashing a long dark leg around his to topple him. Her ankle caught the back of his knee and his leg folded. Both fell hard to the deck as a result. Charles laughter echoed the loud thump on the hard wood of the deck. Olivia pulled her face away from his, but he pulled her chin round hard to lock his lips upon hers.

Olivia felt Charles lips crush hers. She felt his powerful tongue pressing against her teeth impatiently. She felt his weight crushing her to the deck. She felt the smooth hard plank of the Raven cool against her uncovered cheek, the hem of Charles' shirt having folded up to expose her flesh. She felt strong hands gliding over her body, seizing and massaging her large breasts through the soft linen of the blouse. The tropical heat was welling up inside her despite her ill temper over the Witch. She pulled her mouth from Charles' lips and spat, "Deamn 'ou Charlez, deamn you!" Then she pulled him to her lips by the throat, her dark fingers shining through golden curls and light flesh.

*****

Robbins looked over at the commotion across the decks, his eyes twinkled, and a toothless grin cracked his whiskered face. The rum bottle held it suspended in his sun raked hand as he stared at the sight of Olivia pressed to the deck by Charles' weight. Their heads locked in a desperate struggle of lust as they kissed hard. Their hands dancing over one another like killer bees scouring a town for heretics. He wet his parched and sun cracked lips with his tongue as he watched them writhe on the deck like a heap of serpents. With a trembling tread, he took his first step towards the pair, leading a circle of lustful sailors. His eyes anchored to the round dark curve of Captain Olivia's exposed cheek sprawled on the deck.

Young Collins brushed up against him as they approached, like moths to the flame of desire itself. "Mr. Robbins," Collins hissed, "shouldn't we roust the men to their duties?" Robbins finally found the bottle with his lips as he elbowed the young fool in the ribs. "Ar, dis be the duty of men, Collins, you 'lubber!" Robbins hissed back, never taking his eyes off the spectacle. Collins did not respond, he just stopped in his tracks and let the master gunner continue his slow approach to the scene. He felt a heavy hand clap him on the shoulder as some others passed, following Robbins lead. He watched as his captain pulled the neck of the blouse wide enough to tear, spilling Olivia's breasts to the open sky. Charles instantly covered one dark peak with his lips, falling upon it with all the subtlety as a jungle cat would a fledgling. Olivia arched her back into the assault and moaned to the wind. Collins felt his own tide rising with the sea wind as the crowd gathered around the pair obscuring his view. Shaking his head, he turned his flushed cheeks and looked off to the far horizon with his back to the semicircle of enflamed pirates.

*****

Olivia knew that a crowd was gathering. She felt the pistol grind into her flesh through the sundered blouse as Charles relentlessly attacked her breast, his tongue raking over her peaked nipple like a full broad side. Her fingers were digging deep into his skin beneath his golden curls, holding his mouth tightly too. His hands were all over her, scouring for loot. She knew he would not rise up to let her claws at his belt, only his weight pressing against her awoken flesh, crushing her to the deck. The barrel of her pistol, pinned between them like an iron parody of man flesh, just toying with the tip of her sex. "Deamn eend Bleest 'ou, Charlez! 'Ou soon oov a beetch!" Olivia spat through gritted teeth, fighting back a moan for mercy, which she knew did not exist in his soul. He was enjoying her far too much to relent now.

He wanted her to beg, and she was not about to, at least not in view of his crew. He worked his body fully between her thighs, to push the pistol harder and more direct to her. Her one eye popped open and she gasped as she planted both feet flat on the deck and lifted the pistol to his muscled stomach. The barrel pressed hard against her glistening lips as she bucked into Charles.

Then her eye revealed the crowd that surrounded her. Like a fresh coal on the fire, the sight of an old drunken pirate leering at her at the head of a ring of cutthroats, pushed her inflamed flesh to higher degrees, bursting into an internal inferno of liquid heat. The hoard of eyes washed over her skin like waves on the shore. Cresting and breaking over her, relenting, sinking, receding, and cresting once more. Their eyes tantalizing her body like two score of hands in hovering caress. Olivia gnashed her teeth, closed her eyes, and pushed herself into Charles' overwhelming prescience; devouring her breast, pinching her uncovered nipple, and pressing that damnable barrel to her hungry, clutching hull.

She could feel the swelling wave of her own restless tide rising to the moon deep in her depths. Her breath was heavy and quick, she was melting her honey to the cold steel of the pistol when all was shattered. "Sail Ahoy, a'starb'rd!" Young Collins shouted over his turned shoulder to the throng. The Spyglass still raised to his eye. He alone had turned away from Olivia's defeat to his duties. A smile almost graced his young lips, satisfied with himself at having spared two officers from making a mocking spectacle of themselves.

Charles leapt from Olivia in an instant at Collin's call. His bare stomach glistened in the low dipped sun with the evidence of Olivia's desire there for all to see. He smacked Robbins up side the head as he landed on his feet. "All hands on deck!" He barked. The throbbing pressure beneath his belt pushed aside by his mind. Charles pushed himself roughly through the dissipating ring of dogs. "Fazul!" He shouted, as he stomped across the deck towards Collins, his eyes straining to the horizon of flaming azure. He ripped the glass from the young man's grip and put it to his own cold blue eye.

*****

Olivia shook on the deck, Charles' weight lifted and the wind alone flowing over her skin like iced water, despite the heat of the setting sun. She was panting and her legs were squeezed tight together, her sex still reaching for fulfillment. Her tide broken and sunk without release, she pounded the deck with a fist trying to regain her composure in the wake of her denial. She tried pushing herself up to stand and seek Charles out, to attend to the proper duties of a captain, when she came face to face with the leering Robbins. "If'n you be in need o' some assistance, cap'n..." Robbins breathed a cloud of rum into her face, his hoarse voice cracked with heavy lust. The blow of Olivia's fist crashing upon Robbins jaw could be heard across the deck, despite the rush of sailors to their stations.

"Ee t'ink not, 'ou fool smeeleeng doog!" Olivia hissed as she stepped off towards Charles, her foot treading heavily on Robbins soiled trouser crotch as she passed in perfect indignity. She stormed like a dark cloud on a gale across the deck, cutting through the swarming crew of pirates like a cutlass through a giblet. As she reached Charles' side she pulled the shirt closed, and adjusted the pistol in her belt.

Charles felt her approach, he had seen the ship, and it was in a state of disarray. There was a frown on his brow as he offered the glass to Olivia's approach. A dark fist struck the glass from his grasp as she stepped forward. Charles turned his attention to her, and watched her as the glass was jerked to her eye. She stepped forward, until her thighs brushed the gunnel. Charles could almost see the fires of hell smoking around her head as the wind tugged at her long, tightly wound locks. "'Ot are dose fools doeeng?!?" She demanded at long last.

Charles took half a step behind her and spoke as gently as he could, "They be searchin' a new captain, and neglectin' to the Witch, lass." Charles slowly reached to put a hand on her bared shoulder, but Olivia shrank from it with venom. Spinning from his grasp and shouting to his hands, "Heard a'starbr'd, 'ou doogs!" She shouted raising the glass high in the air to emphasize her orders. Charles glanced behind him to find Fazul who looked straight into Charles' face. Charles nodded, and Fazul instantly broke the air over the deck with his whistle's cry orchestrating the Raven to dance a different direction, the sails rippling in response to the wheel.

Olivia stomped her way to Charles' cabin. He watched her until the door was slammed home with a crushing bang before he turned to find Fazul. Stepping up to him, he pulled on the giant's shoulder, "Fazul," he said softly, "keep an eye on her. Let me know any situation that might arise. Keep the men ready, but don't open the gun ports, we don't know what to expect here. In addition, keep your eye on Collins; I want to know here he is. I have to attend to Captain Olivia." With that, he stepped away, not even waiting to watch the obligatory, tattooed nod and bow from his first mate.

*****

Dawn awoke with a start, sitting bolt upright at the sound of the door pounding itself to the jam. Her dream of rolling fields of emerald shattered with a bang. Her ears were still ringing and trying to attain the conscious realm when they were stung, "Geet 'oot 'ou sloot!"

Olivia flew to the desk and pulled open a drawer, thrusting her hand into it she whipped out a pair of Charles' pistol and spilled them on to the desk. "Geet oot!" She spat again as she fumbled with a horn. Dawn was still trying to decide if this were an unwelcome nightmare, or cold reality.

"Pardon, me, captain," Dawn began softly as she slipped from the bed. Olivia's head whipped to face her for the first time, her eye flaming with a hate and brimstone. Dawn quickly lowered her lashes to keep from losing herself in that one wild eye. She was however frozen, not knowing if she should run from the room or move to comfort the woman before her. "Ee seed, Geet oot!" Olivia hissed like a viper and slammed a fist upon the desk with a boom.

"Yes, mum," Dawn's voice barely above a whisper as she retreated tot he door. As she reached for the handle it was jerked from her grasp, the door burst open and Charles strode through. His powerful arm swimming past her and ushering her out of the cabin, pulling the door shut behind her.

"Olivia," Charles barked once the door shut behind them. One eye looked up from the barrel of a pistol as she poured a measure of powder to the gun. It shot back down as she fumbled with a tear of wad. Charles stepped to the far side of the desk and leaned over it, two hands pressing ten fingers upon the wooden surface. "Captain, Olivia," he began again, a bit more forceful, "the Witch needs its mistress to regain control over her passions."

Olivia slammed the pistol loudly to the desk, "Coontrol o'er mee passeeons?" She demanded, her dark one eye spitting venom into the cold blue of Charles'. "Eend Ee soopose dees ees soometheng 'ou know mooch 'bout, aye?" Olivia was fuming. Her flesh had just been repelled at the very pinnacle of victory, her forces still in drying retreat on her inner thigh; and she had just seen her ship bobbing like a carelessly discarded cork upon the waves, still floating, but not receiving proper care due the Witch's station. In addition, Charles' statement on the deck was right, as she knew he had been, there was a squabble for power above the Witch's decks. Pierre or Ibarguen would, if not already be in her cabin and trying to put the ship to rights. One of them would be dead, or there would have been a compromise making one mate to the other for the good of the ship. However, if the dim-witted, Basque thought a bargain for power with Pierre would lead to anything but his own murder he was more stupid than she ever gave him credit for in the past.

Charles looked long into Olivia's dark eye and he watched as a cloud of cold realization wash over her face, her dark skin paling suddenly. He did not speak, just trying to read her mind by her actions. Time seemed to stand still on the waves for a long, silent moment. As he watched her face, her eye locked upon his own; but it did not see him or his cabin. Her mind had flown deep within itself in thought. However, Charles had already guessed what was flowing on the riptide within her skull, and his face revealed no trace of understanding, repressing an unseen scowl.

Olivia's eye flashed, a new flame blazed from deep inside its walnut depths. "Charlez," Olivia hissed, her voice coated thick with hatred and malice. Not hot and angry; but calm, calculated, and determined. "Aye," Charles answered slowly, an eyebrow half cocked in anticipation. "Charlez, dey teed to keel mee," Olivia hissed.

Charles nodded slowly and listened to the hypnotic voice of the serpent, "Ee eem a fool, Charlez. Pierre moost 'ave noot allow'd Ibarguen to week mee, when da storm approached. Bee da teem Ee was oon deck, theengs were een a retcheed state. Deen, a weeve heet oos, breakeeng heegh o'er da deeck. Ee dought Ibarguen sleeped, eend keecked mee o'er da seed." Olivia through both hand s up in the air, as rage welled slowly inside her. "Eet wos deir pleen to keel mee!" Then stretching hard over the desk she pulled Charles powerful shoulders toward her, "'Ou moost help mee geet mee sheep back, Charlez!"

A broad grin creased Charles' lips as she finished her soliloquy. Olivia caught the sparkle of a devious plan flicker and burst with Charles' ice blue eyes. "They will need repairs, Olivia. There is only one place that can give it to them. I'll have Fazul change our course immediately..." he paused letting the pause hang in the air as he devoured her torn blouse displayed cleavage for a long moment.

Olivia's head pulled back, she knew he was about to lay down his price. She could pay anything; no, she would pay anything he demanded. She had to get her ship back. Somehow she knew what his price would be, she eyed him coldly in the silence, like waiting for the trapdoor to open on the gallows. She dared not speak, hoping to keep his price as affordable as possible.

"Well, Olivia," Charles said with a wicked grin, and a hellish his, "these things I could do, for you." Then he pulled back and folded his arms across his broad chest, "If I might see if you still have the passion of captains..." His voice fell silent as he regarded her before listing his unwavering price...