Eryshae

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Sam
Private Suite

The attendant led them through a curving hallway of polished stone, its walls embedded with faintly glowing crystal veins that pulsed like a heartbeat. Each step made the floor beneath their boots hum with a low vibration, as if the whole citadel was a living thing. "This way, honored guests," the young woman said, her voice soft but formal. She stopped before a wide set of carved wooden doors, their surface inlaid with whorls of gold leaf. With a gentle push, the panels swung open to reveal a spacious suite lit by warm amber lamps.

Inside, the air smelled faintly of cedar and some sweeter note Sam couldn't place. There was a sunken sitting area, plush with cushions, and an adjoining chamber where a bed big enough for four dominated the space. The attendant gave a shallow bow. "If you require anything, pull the cord by the hearth. Someone will come at once."

When the doors clicked shut behind her, Sam took a slow breath, letting the quiet settle. Vael moved to the window, drawing back a sheer curtain to look out over the courtyard below, where banners snapped in the breeze. Sam took in the suite; all polished brass fittings, a massive bed draped in deep red blankets, and a wide window looking out at the harbor. A polished cutlass hung above the headboard, and the faint smell of salt and rum hung in the air.

"Well," Vael drawled, her eyes sweeping the room like a privateer sizing up her prize, "looks like the perfect captain's quarters." Sam arched his brow. "Captain, huh? Who is the captain now?"

"Depends," Vael said, stalking closer, her steps slow and deliberate. "Do you surrender willingly… or do I have to board your ship by force?" Sam laughed, but it caught in his throat when Vael's hand rested lightly at his hip. "You wouldn't dare." Vael leaned in, her breath warm at Sam's ear. "Oh, I would." Her other hand reached up, plucking the cutlass from its place on the wall and weighing it theatrically. "First, I'd demand tribute."

"And what would that be?"

Vael's smile turned wicked. "A kiss for safe passage."

Sam smirked. "And if I refuse?"

"Then," Vael murmured, her lips brushing just shy of Sam's jaw, "I'll have to take it by pirate's right." The playful tension between them hung thick as the sea air, and Sam felt himself leaning in before he realized it. Sam could feel it; heat curling up through his chest, the hum of pleasure bleeding into something sharper. Vael's taunting grin kept him tethered between restraint and surrender. His arms began to glow brighter, the faint bioluminescence shimmering beneath bark-lined skin like moonlight caught in the grain. She noticed; he could see it in the way her eyes narrowed, amused and daring.

The cutlass lay closer now, its hilt brushing against his thigh. Vael nudged it toward him, the invitation almost lazy. Sam's bark-covered hand came down over the blade itself, the steel cold against his calloused palm. Without breaking eye contact, he slid it from her grasp, his fingers bending the metal; not to wield it, but to cast it aside, the weapon landing with a muted thud in the sand.

In the same motion, he closed the space between them, scooping her into his arms with a sudden, fluid strength. She gasped; not in fear, but in startled delight; as his luminous arms encircled her, the glow spilling across her cheek like a living lantern.

Her legs instinctively hooked around his waist, her fingertips tracing the glowing lines along his shoulders as though mapping a treasure chart only she could read. "Bold move for a first mate," she teased, voice a husky whisper against his ear. Sam's grip only tightened, his gaze narrowing with mock authority. "First mate? I think you've forgotten who's steering this ship."

Vael smirked, tilting her head in defiance, but the playfulness in her eyes softened as his hand slid from her waist up her back; firm, deliberate, possessive. Her breath caught. "Then steer me," she murmured, her tone dropping into something more breathless. "Run your hands all over me."

He lowered her onto the bed, her hair spilling across the crimson blankets like spilled emerald silk. His fingers, warm and glowing, wrapped around both her wrists and pinned them easily above her head. She writhed beneath him; not to escape, but to feel the strength holding her there. The room seemed smaller now, the air thick with salt, cedar, and heat. Sam leaned over her, his voice a low growl that vibrated in his chest. "Are you ready to walk the plank, huh?"

Vael's lips curved into a slow smile. "Aye, Captain."

Sam's thumb stroked lazily over the inside of her wrist, the movement almost absentminded; yet every pass sent a shiver down her arms. His other hand drifted from her ribs, tracing the curve of her waist, the dip of her hip, as though charting every hidden inlet of a coastline only he would ever sail. The faint glow from his markings spilled across her skin, casting the hollows of her collarbones in warm light.

His touch wasn't hurried. It was deliberate; command over her body as much in the waiting as in the motion. He skimmed over her stomach, fingers barely pressing, and she arched instinctively toward him. "Patience," he murmured, his breath brushing her ear like a promise.

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Vael's pulse thrummed in her throat, her earlier defiance dissolved into something softer, almost fragile. His palm slid to her thigh, calloused fingers curving around the muscle, squeezing just enough to remind her she wasn't going anywhere unless he let her. The warmth of his skin seeped through her, steady and grounding, even as the anticipation made her squirm.

He released her wrists just long enough to push her arms wider along the pillow, then caught both again in one firm grasp above her head. With his other hand, he explored; the slope of her shoulder, the line of her side, the delicate hollow where her ribs ended and her hip began. Every inch he touched seemed claimed, marked, and hers to surrender.

When his hand finally glided up her ribs to cup her cheek, the dominance in his grip softened into something achingly tender. "You're mine, Vael," he said, quiet but certain. Her lashes fluttered, a shy smile ghosting over her lips. "Then take me, Captain. All of me."

Sam's touch deepened, his hands mapping Vael's curves like a captain charting familiar waters, each slow sweep gaining more claim. His bioluminescent glow pulsed brighter with every shiver he coaxed from her, the amber light in his chest casting a warm, molten hue over her skin. The rhythm of his touch shifted; still deliberate, but no longer exploratory alone. It was a taking now, a claiming, each pass of his hands layered with the quiet certainty of possession.

He dipped low, his lips grazing along her ribs before trailing down her side, the faintest scrape of teeth making her breath catch. "Storm's pickin' up, lass," he murmured against her skin, voice low and edged with that pirate growl, "and you've no idea how rough the seas can get." His amber heart flared brighter, heat threading through the press of his mouth as he kissed and claimed, leaving a path from her hip to her collarbone.

Her fingers flexed against the grip he still had on her wrists, but his hold was unyielding; firm, protective, dominant. He moved back down, pressing his mouth over her stomach before dragging the kisses lower, then sweeping back up her body like a tide, each return more urgent than the last. His lips found her throat, his teeth grazing her pulse as his glow brightened in sync with the quickening pace of her breath.

When he finally lifted his head, his grin was all pirate, wicked and warm. "Best be ready, treasure," he said, voice roughened with want, "because I intend to plunder every last inch of ye."

Sam's grin turned rakish, the cut of it all but declaring mutiny against restraint. "Every captain's entitled to their share o' the plunder," he murmured, voice low and edged like a tide that pulled without mercy. His amber heart flared, throwing molten light between them, and the bioluminescence along his arms bloomed brighter, like moonlit waves spilling over her skin.

His vines slid from his fingertips in lazy, sinuous coils, tasting the air before curling to trace her curves, mapping her like a treasure chart. "And here's me thinkin' I've found the richest bounty in all the seas," he drawled, brushing his lips against her in a pattern that was half caress, half claim. Teeth grazed, teasing, before retreating so his mouth could press a kiss hot enough to make her arch beneath him.

He trailed downward, slow but inevitable, letting each press of his mouth claim another inch like a conquered coastline. His vines followed in tandem, gliding over her hips, her ribs, her thighs with deliberate exploration, drawing whorls and loops like a pirate marking secret coves. She could feel the strength coiled in him, but also the care; his dominance wrapped in a steadying tether of affection.

"Yield, lass," he murmured against her skin, nipping just enough to coax a gasp. "The tide's comin' in fast, and I mean to take all you've got to give… and then some." Her lips curved in a smirk, before he kissed lower still, vines curling tighter in tandem with the heat of his mouth. Her pulse fluttered against him like a captured bird, and the space between playful and ravenous dissolved entirely.

Sam kept the rhythm steady, his glowing arms bathing them in shifting amber light as the vines curled and slid like living ropes over Vael's skin. Each movement was deliberate; measured in the way a captain might appraise his prize before claiming it. His mouth charted its own course, trailing from the hollow of her throat to the swell of her chest, to the curve of her waist, his teeth grazing as though marking a map only he could read.

Vael's breath trembled, her voice dipping low, teasing but thick with need. "Tell me, Captain… are you ready to erect your mast?" His eyes burned gold, a roguish smirk tugging at his lips. The vines obeyed his thoughts, spiraling lower, winding with slow, torturous care across her hips and thighs. "Aye, matey," he murmured, dipping close so his words brushed her lips like salt spray, "I've the perfect place to sheathe my cutlass." He gave her a wink that was pure pirate mischief, though the heat in his gaze promised far more than jest.

Vael spread her legs for him, surrendering with deliberate boldness, her grin daring him even as her voice broke on a gasp. "Come sail away, come sail away in me… my Captain."

The vines answered first, their silken touch finding all the most intimate ports of her body, coaxing her to arch and tremble. His mouth followed their path, claiming her in kisses and nips, tasting every inch as though the voyage itself was the treasure. And when he finally shifted above her, both the playful pirate and the relentless lover merged in one consuming storm.

The vines moved with him now, following the rhythm of his kisses, twining around her in a slow, coaxing dance that left no part of her untouched. Each curl and brush against her skin felt like a secret the forest itself wanted to share, and with every pass, the heat between them deepened. The pirate's claim was no longer a jest; it was a vow, spoken in the press of his lips, the glide of his hands, and the way the air seemed to tighten with anticipation.

Vael's breath came quick and uneven, her voice low and velvety as she leaned close, eyes alight with mischief.

The moment broke like a wave against the bow, all playful restraint swept away in the sudden rush of heat and need. Their world narrowed to motion, sound, and sensation; like a storm roaring to life, all wild wind and pounding surf. Somewhere between the crash and the crest, Vael's voice rose, calling his name, each syllable caught in the rhythm they'd set together.

And when the final swell came; when there was nothing left but the rush and the roar; Sam's grin turned feral. "There she blows!"