[For Charles Vane] A Token of Gratitude

[happyfalcon]

It had been a few days since Charles had rescued Anne after she had been kidnapped by Ned Low. Anne had been initially reluctant to engage in any activity of a remotely sexual nature. She had allowed Charles to hold her, but that was all. Over the past few days they had shared a kiss or two, but Anne had found herself so shaken by the event that she had not initiated or indulged any playful activities.

But she felt so guilty for it. Charles had gone to all the trouble and lost a good many men to save her - all for her to show her gratitude by refusing his touch. True enough, he had told her not to worry herself over how many men had died in her rescue attempt, but she couldn't help worrying. Silently at night she prayed for them. Which may have been a silly thing; the men themselves would likely have laughed at her for such efforts.

But it comforted her.

Then of course there was the fear that Charles would seek his satisfaction elsewhere. Anne, in her logical mind, figured it was unlikely that Charles would pursue another woman, or multiple women - but this was not an occasion for her logical mind. Her more emotional mind ran away with her, spinning vivid images of Charles with other women while her back was turned. Of course she berated herself for being ridiculous and never spoke a word of such fears to Charles.

It was her doing, and she knew it. And enough time had passed, it was time to put her silly anxiety behind her. Ned Low was gone; dead and gone. And word of the event had spread so it was unlikely to repeat itself again.

Anne had gone to town and bartered some of her treasure shares with a visiting merchant. She purchased a red velvet gown with a plunging neckline and open front to show her long legs, while only just barely covering her womanhood. Her favorite garnet necklace rested snugly against her cleavage. Anne had kept a long black cloak over her to conceal herself before the crew as she went to Charles' cabin. It was dark, it was late - there was no one to see her really, but it paid to be careful. Anne stepped into the cabin quietly, finding Charles asleep on the bed, just as she had wanted. She let the cloak drop as she quietly closed the door behind her. With bare feet she crept up to the bed, and carefully settled beside him. Her fingers teased against his thigh while she leaned over him and let her lips brush over his.

"Charles," she whispered his name softly as her fingers brushed the ties of his pants.

Comments

[getonwithitmfer]

While he certainly considered himself well versed in certain aspects of dealing with women, their emotional states were as much a mystery to Charles Vane as nearly every other man he knew. Of course, his upbringing and history helped not one whit in those efforts, but he'd gleaned enough to know that there were times when things couldn't be helped, and had to be left to work at their own speed.

As such, he gave Anne what support she seemed to want in the aftermath of her abduction, and asked for nothing more. Though it was true he'd grown accustomed to having leave to fuck her as he pleased, it wasn't as though a man who spent much of his life at sea would be stranger to dry spells.

It didn't make him miss the feel of her, but he was not the kind of man to demand, not in these circumstances.

When he felt himself being coaxed out of slumber by the sultry whisper of Anne's voice and the by-now familiar sensation of her touch below his belt, Vane's smirk appeared before his eyes were fully open. He cracked them and glanced at the stunning woman in red hovering beside him.

"Do I wake to an angel... or a temptress?"