@enchantedrapscallion (who yelled at me for giving them dead milah.)
“Stop that!”
The hammock swayed lightly in the breeze, thick wool blanket tossed over them and if you listened you could hear the shouts of the crew below deck. But this was their time. Mostly alone save for the man at the helm and Killian and Milah tucked away in their own little private sanctuary under the stars. An almost nightly routine when the conditions were right and the skies were clear. Many a nights spent with him murmuring the names of stars into her ear while one hand got a little frisky and the other held her close. Trying her best to be quiet and keep their intimacies... private to say the least. Boyish and playful that was her Killian.
The same man that had taught her how to wield a blade and tie knots. The same man that told her stories in a tavern, what seemed near a century ago. And perhaps it was; she found time seemed to stand still upon the deck of The Jolly Roger. The magic of the ship itself was something to behold, with Killian at the helm it was mesmerizing to say the least.
Milah swatted his hand away-- slowly creeping up her skirts (the rare occasion she decided to wear one) and tickling with roughened finger tips. The way his laugh was a low rumble in her ear and she squirmed and damn near flipped them both out of the bloody thing.
“What shall your crew think, hm? Should they come up here and find us both sprawled out in a state of undress.” She knew that he didn’t very well care and honestly it only added fuel to her fire. Turning to face him, she pressed lips to his. Sweet and slow, same as the pace they were currently keeping on the sea. Wistfully drifting towards a new destination that they would discover together.
“Actually, the crew can piss off for all I care,” she murmured, hand slipping onto his hair and a leg hitched around his hip. “It’s the unsteadiness of this hammock that is currently worrying me.”








