@inominati sent: 1) our muses are undressing each other for the first time and sender notices receiver’s scars they’ve never seen before. (Mel & Smoker? 👀)
[ from smutty prompts but with plot . accepting ]
Kissing Captain Smoker of the Marines wasn't a novelty to Melissa - they had done so plenty of times and sometimes under rather peculiar circumstances (in a dark alleyway to muffle sounds; after some verbal sparring once she closed business; even in the middle of the closest plaza while they both dressed up for a local Loguetown festival and no one could tell their identities).
To do that now, inside her own quarters, felt almost surreal - it wasn't even one of the Honeybee's storage rooms which were infamously used by some couples willing to get more intimate, but Melissa's actual living place. The tavern owner couldn't remember the last time she had welcomed anyone inside (there was an office for that, after all), let alone an individual who posed such high risks to her painstakingly constructed existence.
And yet there Smoker was - kissing the nape of her neck as if his mouth had been designed to find each curve and sweet spot, eliciting plenty of vocalized approval from his companion. Melissa's hands had been occupied with his jacket, successfully removing it off his figure for the first time. In their quick, secretive meetings before, they had definitely fucked - but they hadn't bothered to undress, particularly when his uniform was already so generously revealing.
The skin of his back, however, wasn't as even as the brunette expected. She gasped, partially because of the way his teeth closed over her throat (that would bruise, she was sure of it; and yet, it had been done somewhere easy to conceal) - but also because the rough texture under her fingertips expanded in different directions, causing Melissa's curiosity to increase.
Who had managed to hurt someone that could turn into smoke? What sort of monster (or danger) had he fought and survived to tell the tale?
"Let me look at you," Melissa murmured, but there was a distinctive lack of a plea; it was worded like an order and somehow it worked, even if she was no superior officer in is chain of command. Smoker unfurled his body, straightening his back and complying with her request - and even if the marine had been loosening the corset on her frame, the brunette felt it was suddenly harder to breathe.
Once the jacket was off - completely off, not just teasing the occasional observer with the alluring promise of more - Melissa could see the scar tissue that lingered behind his muscled frame with perfection. It was more than she expected just because she knew how elusive and slippery he was with his powers; but maybe, just maybe, these had been earned before the abilities were his to command. Or perhaps the Marines still faced remarkable opposition from assassins and the like, enough to harm him in such fashion.
Melissa's eyes needed a moment before getting to his face - and Smoker was looking right at her, apparently aware of just the thing that had drawn her focus a minute ago. The captain of the Marines had always been an imposing figure, even if his body was not shielded from view; but in his vulnerability and unprotected by his jacket, Melissa thought he looked even stronger. A more formidable foe, an even more enticing lover.
The turn from worry to desire was easy to see; by the time Smoker welcomed her back with a hungry, needy kiss, his hands resumed his prior work and freed the woman from her corset, attacking the buttons holding the upper part of her dress together and resulting in both of them tumbling onto her bed in a half-state of nakedness.
Melissa came up for air first - of course the captain had maneuvered in order to have her topping him, with the tavern owner's weight posing no challenge to his physique. The long, chestnut colored hair slipped free from where the woman had pinned it up earlier, like waves crashing over a distant shore. That wasn't unlike the feelings in Melissa's heart, looking at the captain on her bed with such naked display of sincerity that it truly required extra focus for the woman to act.
All these years ago, she had ran away from a controlling father who wanted his oldest to marry a marine for the fortune of his name and family. Now, looking into Smoker's eyes and tenderly leaning into the touch of his hand, Melissa realized she was exactly where Edgar Drysdell had wanted her - in the arms of a decorated captain of the same organization, with reputation going well beyond their town and with the power to probably get the woman to do his bidding (even if only after significant bantering).
"You look so much better without all that white on you," she said at long last, her teasing smile an attempt at steering thoughts elsewhere. The marine's left hand moved down the side of her torso, the bare digits causing soft goosebumps in their wake and carrying on until he found the barrier posed by the lower half of the dress, tugging softly at the fabric.
"Is that right?" one eyebrow went up and he smirked too; whether he suspected of her interior conflict (and feelings) remained unknown; "Are you only upset at the white? Because I could do with some help with the darker parts of the uniform too."
Melissa laughed, moving her hands to the Smoker's waist and working on his pants. It was hardly surprising they were creating discomfort - they had looked tight on him at all times, something their kissing and groping only intensified. Getting him out of his pants was no small effort, but Melissa's dress was equally annoying with the layers of fabric - both of them fought hard to finally embrace one another without anything standing between them, not even his prized cigars or lingering suspicion about their agendas.
It was not the first time either of them had fucked, as the loud moaning and expert teasing proved. But perhaps, on Melissa's side - it was the first time she made love to him.
