pairing: female detective (leila) x ava du mortain
word count: 1335
warnings: none
tagging: @likemoonlights the eternal enabler 💜
The sun is setting, the sky is brilliant, the sea is calm, and Ava du Mortain stands gloriously silhouetted against the scene. Her hair is falling out of it’s neat bun, and her pale cheeks are flush with exertion. Her normally pristine blue coat has a slash in the shoulder, a small demotion from being the normally proud and perfect naval officer. The headiest part, however, is the sheer triumph in her expression, somehow rendering her even more beautiful than usual.
Unfair, really, considering that her sword is pricking just below Leila’s chin. No one should look that beautiful in the midst of holding one’s life in the balance.
Leila herself can barely catch her breath. The sea breeze helps cool her a bit, but she still feels the sweat dripping down her hairline, and her knees fairly ache as they are, pressed against the hard planks of the ship.
“I yield,” she utters at last, although her voice comes out far breathier than she had intended.
Du Mortain’s lips curve into a nearly imperceptible smile, “As if you had a choice.”
Leila smiles charmingly, “Maybe this is exactly what I wanted.” Tina might actually accuse her of that later, if she could finagle her way out of this.
The proud woman only scoffs, her posture as regal as if she were a queen, “You wanted to be helpless and on your knees?”
The pirate opens her mouth to give a quick retort when she sees something odd. Du Mortain’s eyes begin to stray downward to Leila’s chest... where a single drop of perspiration is inching its way into the daringly low neckline of her shirt.
She tilts her head, smile turning suspiciously innocent, “Who knows? I think my position is looking better by the moment.”
Du Mortain’s eyes snap so quickly to Leila’s face that it’s a wonder that it doesn’t make her dizzy. They narrow in irritation, “On your feet, pirate. It’s time we ended this.”
She presses the sword just a tad, and like a gunshot, Nate’s voice startles them out of their little trance.
“We’re to bring her back unharmed, Ava.” He says, gently pushing his captain’s sword away from the small nick it had made in the pirate’s skin. Ava glares at him viciously as someone in the background snickers, but Leila’s mind is already churning with the implications.
The realization hits her with a wave of dread. “You work for my mother,” she groans. She pushes herself onto her feet and gives the crew a disgusted glare.
The sword is back in Du Mortain’s sheathe, although judging by her expression, she’d much rather have it still pointed at Leila. “We won’t harm you, but you’ll hardly have run of the ship.” Cool green eyes flick over her shoulder, “Morgan, detain her.”
“It’s always lovely to see you, Morgan,” Leila drawls dryly as her arms are unceremoniously yanked behind her back.
“Captain Estrada, just as irritating as always,” the woman grumbled. She yanked harder as Leila laughed brightly.
“You sound less annoyed this time, am I actually growing on you?”
Ouch, the yank makes her wince and she nearly regrets goading her for a moment. But only a moment. As she’s ushered (or shoved, more likely) forward, she winks and smiles at Felix and he tips an imaginary cap as she passes, grinning all the while.
She passes curious faces, some of them familiar from previous scuffles, and openly looks around as she’s hauled across the deck. For a moment, it seems like they’re heading straight for the stairs below deck, but Du Mortain’s voice rings out imperiously, “No. Leave her in my quarters and I’ll deal with her myself.”
Leila can picture with perfect clarity the glare on the captain’s face as Morgan snickers, “Oh, I’m sure you will.”
Morgan is clearly more of an optimist than she’d thought.
Nevertheless, she stumbles into the spartan captain’s quarters. With a sigh, she sits on the bed and crosses her legs while leaning back on her bound hands. She tilts her head and smiles faintly at the frowning woman, still standing in front of the door.
“You plan on untying me?” she asks, more curious than anything else.
Morgan smirks, “No... I think our captain prefers you just like this.”
“Flatterer,” she demurs, even as her cheek feel flush with warmth. Captured and held in the quarters of the naval captain she’d been evading for the past month, she feels oddly off-balance.
With only another smirk, the other woman turns to leave, the door clicking ominously as she locks it. Leila is left alone with her thoughts.
...Her thoughts and the captain’s things. She gets up as gracefully as she can, and starts to snoop. Unfortunately, it becomes painfully clear that the austere Du Mortain has very little in the way of personal effects, and certainly no important papers. There must be an office somewhere, but it iss out of her reach for the moment, so she sets the thought aside.
With a sigh, she sets to the rope around her wrists. She only just manages to slide a knife out of her boot, and it’s short work before she’s free and the knife is hidden once more. The pirate takes a moment to tidy her hair in the small mirror that indicates the only sign of vanity in the room, before flopping onto the bed with a sigh.
Might as well make herself comfortable. After all, it’ll take a fair bit of time for her crew to regroup and get her. If they made a stop to resupply before reporting to Rebecca, that would be even better…
Plans whirled through her mind, ideas for making the most of the situation before she ends up lightly dozing in the bed of the one woman determined to make her life miserable.
What rotten luck, then, that the sheets smelled so good.
The slight creak of the door and the smothering sense of someone glaring at her disrupts her peace, and somehow puts a small smile on her face before she stretches on the bed, rolls onto her side, and props her head on her hand with a smile. “Captain! I was just enjoying the generous accommodations, I don’t think even my crew would treat me half as well.”
“Get off the bed,” Du Mortain growls, yanking on the sheets so hard it’s amazing they haven’t teared. With a laugh, Leila rolls with the momentum straight off the bed and stumbles forward into the naval captain’s chest.
The captain catches her, hands wrapped around her upper arms. She can feel the warmth even through her coat. And for some reason that her addled mind cannot fathom, she doesn’t pull away.
What is wrong with me? It’s the only thought in her head, and maybe the only thought in Ava’s judging by the uncertain look on her face and in her icy green eyes. But instead of doing the smart thing (pocketing the keys, stepping away, not staring longingly into the eyes of the person hauling her back to her mother) Leila feels trapped by their closeness. It’s as if a warm current is pulling her into murkier waters and she is powerless to stop it. She can’t help but admire the jade glint of her eyes, the sharp cut of her jaw, the way her intensity sends a charge over her skin...
Ava doesn’t seem to have that problem, however. In a movement so quick Leila somehow misses it, she pushes her away and is across the small room, glaring as if the pirate was the source of all her problems.
Well. That one might actually be true.
Leila stumbles back with a curse, warm with embarrassment and trying to find the playful air she’d adopted so easily before. It seems hopelessly lost at this point, as are, apparently, her senses if she's started gazing dreamily into the eyes of her captor.
Getting off the ship might prove more challenging than she’d thought.
