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Description
Booze. Hormones. Envy of Jack and Alison. All of this resulted in Scott saying the most magical three words in all of human history, "sure, let's fuck". In most other cases the situation would be awkward, uncomfortable, uncoordinated. He told himself to remember to thank the makers of Bourim whiskey and buy them a drink, a proper drink that didn't taste like acid. With neither one of them particularly inhibited they had the confidence to do whatever, but they were still sober enough to not end up fumbling around and getting in each other's way. So when Scott started with a gentle kiss on the lips and Carrie responded by curling her arms around his neck shoving her tongue down his throat, he was taken by surprise but wasn't stunned into paralysis. Instead he responded quickly. He grabbed the back of her legs and hoisted her up to carry her into his bedroom, ramming her body against the walls every so often, as their tongues fenced each other sharply. The kissing was rough, fast, hard. Their tongues attacked each other, trying to get to the back of each other's mouth like some sort of carnal sport. Scott was just being a hormonal guy with his kissing and Carrie was just being a hormonal Carrie, so it was safe to assume both parties were satisfied with the style they had adopted. Scott listened to his own thoughts, slightly parodying the bourgeois and intellectual, and ended up amusing himself. Then he remembered what he was doing and put his thoughts back into the kiss, he'd be damned if he was going to cock this up now.
His grip got tighter. Her legs wrapped harder. His tongue went deeper. Her teeth got sharper.
A biter. Not surprising considering it was Carrie. It was masochistically invigorating, he was happy to be her bitch if she wanted. But right now that was he was making her by forcing her against the wall, pushing himself, all of his self at her, just as she did to him, making her moan through the occasional and slight gaps in the kissing. Then, after they couldn't get any closer into each other, they escalated the game.

His fingertips slid through the gap in her buttoned up t-shirt. He ripped it right off her, launching buttons over the room like bullets. Vampirically, she bit into his neck. God, it hurt. It hurt so good. He wasn't able to restrain himself anymore. He swayed his body round and slammed her onto the bed. He bit into her shoulder, returning a favour. She gasped and loudly, and retaliated with a sharper bite. Their bodies were sliding against each other as they took turns . Then, without warning, she took control. She swayed their bodies round, sat up and halted the game. It was so sudden. And at first very frustrating. Scott wanted his violent chew-toy back under him. She just knelt there, on top of him, smiling. Then her hands slid underneath his shirt, caressing his scars, his abs, and slowly she removed it. Part way. She left Scott blind, the shirt covering his head. When he tried to take it off he felt her palms pin his hands down. Looked like he was going to be her bitch after all. Then he felt her get off. He wanted to take the shirt off, he had to know what was going on. Was she leaving? Oh god, she couldn't leave now...
But then his train of thought was derailed. All the doubt and sudden fears were immediately erased when he heard the most glorious sound in the world. A zipper being undone. He heard some rustling, some items drop to the floor, then that weight, that beautiful weight, press against his lap. The god forsaken shirt was removed from his eyes, and there was Carrie, straddling his waist, with a ridiculously sexy smile across her face, in a lacy black bra and equally black socks. And nothing else. Resisting her was almost impossible, she was... his vocabulary had run out. He could hardly believe it. He was an artist, yet all of the many words he knew had ran off, intimidated by her siren's smile.

Before he got a chance to say or do anything, he was interrupted by that glorious sound again. He looked down to see she was sliding down his trousers. He also felt her fingers hook into his underwear. He arched his body to make removing them easier. She also hooked onto his socks, taking them and leaving him completely naked. She started slowly gyrating her hips against him as her hands disappeared behind her back. There was a little click, and then her bra went slightly limp. She brushed the straps off her shoulders, leaving her bra a clumped strand of cloth barely covering her. Then she stretched her arms up, swaying her hourglass body with her open hands as a guide. This had flung her bra off. A seductive grin, star-dot freckles, flowing sunrise hair, a sleek, curvy figure and a full chest. It was like she was Eve and he was some lucky bastard who had stolen Adams place. She was completely perfect. It was probably the hormones but that was what she was to him. He ran his fingertips across her skin. It was smooth and silky to the touch. He reached her neck, caressed it slowly, put his palm across the back of it in a soft, gentle manner and just gazed at her. Then forced her down. His patience had worn out. Now resisting her was impossible. He turned their bodies and topped her. The kissing was like a harsh dance once again, the hands moving everywhere, groping and nipping every possible inch of skin. Then he went inside of her.

At first they both froze up. But whatever mild shock had come was quickly swallowed up by hormones and lust. They were merciless with each other, sparing no room for comfort or gentleness. This was all out war with their bodies. And yet they were so in sync, working with each other, thrusting and bucking at the same pace, escalating at the same time. Sweat poured off their bodies in rivers, the sticky heat blanketed them, her legs curled around his waist like a vice, his fingers pressed into her sides in a crushing grip, her nails clawed into his skin, putting the ships floorboard to shame. It was completely primal. Carnivorous. Savage. They were tearing each other apart.
But the blissful violence came to an end eventually. But it was the most breath stealing end he had. He could feel the wave of pure ecstasy shoot through him completely, making his lungs cease and his skin quiver. He couldn't even suppress the groan that was forced out of him. But the noise he made was completely overwhelmed by Carrie. The finale she had must have been intense, because she had essentially screamed out as if hit by a climactic, euphoric oblivion. Her body, particularly her hips, were convulsing uncontrollably and her right leg was having what he could only assume were involuntarily spasms, making her violently kick out. And then it was over.

This was probably the best sex he had ever had. He had done it about twenty something times. Now it was twenty something and one. He was completely exhausted, his body slumped to the side of Carries, his muscles cowering away. His breathing was laboured, as if he had a pound of rose petals resting on his chest. Heaven could suck it. He looked over at her, watching her pant even more heavily than him, with dishevelled hair that was soaked with sweat, making it glisten in the moonlight that was softly breathed through the ship window. He couldn't help but play "You and Me" by Lifehouse through his head. It was a fairly old song but it was one he always loved.
Suddenly she sat up, making it look impossible from exhaustion. She got to her feet with the support of the headboard, standing on the bed. She opened the window above the bed and let in an icy cool sea breeze. The salty chill in the wind touched Scott on his forehead and chest, he saw Carrie was letting it caress her face and wash over her breasts. Her head was hung back as her eyes were closed. She breathed in the ocean air, a perfect picture of total content relaxation. He could understand it, but for some reason he rejected it. The cold was merely a horde icicles, dissecting his scars. The cold had never bugged him before, but now he wanted the uncomfortably warm heat that blanketed him before. The way it took him in that comatose state was peculiarly inviting. Also he as jealous of it.

The cold was embracing Carrie, and she took it in pleasurably. He wanted that. He wanted Carrie. What was he doing? What was going on in his mind? His brain was once again fucking with him. It was probably just that desire for closeness that came after sex. But that didn't change the fact that he got jealous of the fucking weather. That in itself was embarrassing, but over Carrie? That was just mortifying. It wasn't that it was Carrie, but it because of who she was to him that made it so stupid. Didn't it? Something had shifted. It was probably the need for closeness, but he couldn't help but look at her completely differently. She was the one that visited him in his room. She was the one who he went to save on the ship to France. She was the one who it was torture to not seen in days. And now she was the one he had sex with. This was probably just a passing sensation, but that didn't stop him from wanting her in his arms. She was the one.
He noticed a droplet running down, bee lining perfectly through the valley of her chest and now at a standstill just below her sternum. It could have been sweat or the ocean. Either way it was glittering in the light, a gem upon a diamond. With all his effort, he knelt up, rested his head against her stomach, ran his hands from her hips to hers sides, looked up, and kissed the droplet softly.
"Sorry. Post intercourse craving for intimacy". He looked up at her with a smile, hiding the need for her as an angelic teddy-bear, behind a clown mask. She smiled back. Then slowly fell to her knees.
"Go on then" she said, before airily kissing his top lip. Post-intercourse craving for intimacy. They shuffled under the blankets together and held each other into a gentle sleep.

"Oy fuckhead! Breakfast 's out at the captain's table soon, something about making up for a fuck up. You see ginger you give her a shout yeah?" Jack was now the most evil person on the planet.
"Nrrrgghhh... yeah..."
"Oh yeah, you know I said about it being soon? Little thing about that, I may have meant two hours. I got a little excited, I mean come on! It's the captain's table! It's like we're fucking minted or -" Jack left quickly after Scott casually interrupted him by throwing a shoe violently at the door. In his extremely tired state he thought the shoe had a knife on it since he was on a military vessel. Logic
"Scott, sweetie, get the fuck up" moaned out a voice from a large clump of orange hair.
"Why?" he groaned, rolling over, flopping like a slug.
""Because I am bored" she said factually, sitting up and shoving her hair out of her face. "I have been awake for half an hour and your hipbone has been poking somewhere that made me all tingly."
"Shit, sorry" he replied flatly, feeling her weight shift off the bed. Probably going to get dressed.
"Yeah well, now you are going to make up for it fool" she said in that same factual voice as her weight shifted onto his legs like a bag of sand pressing down on him. His head rotated slowly and he dragged is eyelids apart reluctantly. She was, in fact, not dressed. She was just as naked as before, wearing nothing but her black socks. And now she had a good grip on the neck of a Bourim bottle. "Surely you know about how the way women have orgasms, yes? Unlike men, we don't flump back after we're finished. We can keep them coming, and coming, and coming..."
"Get to the point. I mean granted it's quite obvious, but some specifics please?"
"I'm going to teach you how to like Bourim whiskey" she said flirtatiously as she uncorked the bottle. She pressed the tip between her collarbones, tipped it back and let the copper liquid flow down her body. She handed Scott the bottle and told him to drink it so he'd wake up. He took a swig, gagged a little and felt an acidic burning open his eyes. He then chucked the bottle carelessly onto the floor and began to lick the forfeit off her body, then followed the trail down.

"Hey you!" Jack said in his most camp voice possible. Scott replied with a slap to the head.
"I'm sftill piffsed at you for your timing".
"What's up with your speech? You have a bit of a lithp" Hardy said curiously.
"Morning to you too. I jufst fslept funny." he said calmly. His poker face was a force to be rec.
They sat down and began to eat, when Scott suddenly noticed a look swapped between Alison and Jack. Carrie had noticed it too. "You know, don't you?"
"Know wha-"
"YES" Jack said loudly, quickly interrupting Alison's attempt at saving some dignity.
"Jack, for fucksake..." Alison said irritably.
"What? She called it! Besides, it's not like we were listening or anything, we were just told by one of the soldiers that they heard noises. Most likely it was you but nothing was concrete."
"I haven't had my morning coffee, what's..."
"Our lad's got a wee case of 'divers tongue'. It's what happens after, say, two hours..." he trailed off when he saw Alison's death glare and Carrie keeping her head low. He looked Scott's way. Scott didn't particularly mind but he reckoned Carrie did. "You complete slut" Jack said out of the blue. Everyone stared at him. Carrie had a look that was a perfect cocktail of offense and anger "Not you Carrie, you're fine" Jack said calmly, seeming not to be acknowledging her anger, "I', talking to Scott. First that one night stand then your BDSM bitch and now you're fucking your friends? For shame" he said as he threw an orange at his head. Scott looked over and saw Alison sigh in exhaustion. Carrie was grinning away. Scott was doing the exact same thing. "So come on Carrie, tell us! It's a toaty wee tinky isn't it?"
"I'm not at liberty to say" she said mockingly.
"Fuck Jack! Do you have any sense of tact- forget I asked that" Alison burst out indignantly.
"Was it good?" He asked curiously? "Frenchie said there was screaming."
"That was probably more likely to be from when he was biting into my nipples." The entire room went silent and everyone stared at Carrie. All of them, including Carrie, went-wide eyed.
"Why would you say that?"
"I don't know why I would say that!" Scott pressed his face into his palm. "Sorry..."
Then Hardy perked up."Everyone, I'd like to properly introduce you to Captain Pierre..." his hand gestured to the man sitting at the head of the table, who was smiling awkwardly at the conversation taking place. "I'd like you to listen to a couple of pointers of his..." he said to the four of them, still crimson-faced. Save for Jack. He was trying not to burst out laughing.

Description
Booze. Hormones. Envy of Jack and Alison. All of this resulted in Scott saying the most magical three words in all of human history, "sure, let's fuck". In most other cases the situation would be awkward, uncomfortable, uncoordinated. He told himself to remember to thank the makers of Bourim whiskey and buy them a drink, a proper drink that didn't taste like acid. With neither one of them particularly inhibited they had the confidence to do whatever, but they were still sober enough to not end up fumbling around and getting in each other's way. So when Scott started with a gentle kiss on the lips and Carrie responded by curling her arms around his neck shoving her tongue down his throat, he was taken by surprise but wasn't stunned into paralysis. Instead he responded quickly. He grabbed the back of her legs and hoisted her up to carry her into his bedroom, ramming her body against the walls every so often, as their tongues fenced each other sharply. The kissing was rough, fast, hard. Their tongues attacked each other, trying to get to the back of each other's mouth like some sort of carnal sport. Scott was just being a hormonal guy with his kissing and Carrie was just being a hormonal Carrie, so it was safe to assume both parties were satisfied with the style they had adopted. Scott listened to his own thoughts, slightly parodying the bourgeois and intellectual, and ended up amusing himself. Then he remembered what he was doing and put his thoughts back into the kiss, he'd be damned if he was going to cock this up now.
His grip got tighter. Her legs wrapped harder. His tongue went deeper. Her teeth got sharper.
A biter. Not surprising considering it was Carrie. It was masochistically invigorating, he was happy to be her bitch if she wanted. But right now that was he was making her by forcing her against the wall, pushing himself, all of his self at her, just as she did to him, making her moan through the occasional and slight gaps in the kissing. Then, after they couldn't get any closer into each other, they escalated the game.

His fingertips slid through the gap in her buttoned up t-shirt. He ripped it right off her, launching buttons over the room like bullets. Vampirically, she bit into his neck. God, it hurt. It hurt so good. He wasn't able to restrain himself anymore. He swayed his body round and slammed her onto the bed. He bit into her shoulder, returning a favour. She gasped and loudly, and retaliated with a sharper bite. Their bodies were sliding against each other as they took turns . Then, without warning, she took control. She swayed their bodies round, sat up and halted the game. It was so sudden. And at first very frustrating. Scott wanted his violent chew-toy back under him. She just knelt there, on top of him, smiling. Then her hands slid underneath his shirt, caressing his scars, his abs, and slowly she removed it. Part way. She left Scott blind, the shirt covering his head. When he tried to take it off he felt her palms pin his hands down. Looked like he was going to be her bitch after all. Then he felt her get off. He wanted to take the shirt off, he had to know what was going on. Was she leaving? Oh god, she couldn't leave now...
But then his train of thought was derailed. All the doubt and sudden fears were immediately erased when he heard the most glorious sound in the world. A zipper being undone. He heard some rustling, some items drop to the floor, then that weight, that beautiful weight, press against his lap. The god forsaken shirt was removed from his eyes, and there was Carrie, straddling his waist, with a ridiculously sexy smile across her face, in a lacy black bra and equally black socks. And nothing else. Resisting her was almost impossible, she was... his vocabulary had run out. He could hardly believe it. He was an artist, yet all of the many words he knew had ran off, intimidated by her siren's smile.

Before he got a chance to say or do anything, he was interrupted by that glorious sound again. He looked down to see she was sliding down his trousers. He also felt her fingers hook into his underwear. He arched his body to make removing them easier. She also hooked onto his socks, taking them and leaving him completely naked. She started slowly gyrating her hips against him as her hands disappeared behind her back. There was a little click, and then her bra went slightly limp. She brushed the straps off her shoulders, leaving her bra a clumped strand of cloth barely covering her. Then she stretched her arms up, swaying her hourglass body with her open hands as a guide. This had flung her bra off. A seductive grin, star-dot freckles, flowing sunrise hair, a sleek, curvy figure and a full chest. It was like she was Eve and he was some lucky bastard who had stolen Adams place. She was completely perfect. It was probably the hormones but that was what she was to him. He ran his fingertips across her skin. It was smooth and silky to the touch. He reached her neck, caressed it slowly, put his palm across the back of it in a soft, gentle manner and just gazed at her. Then forced her down. His patience had worn out. Now resisting her was impossible. He turned their bodies and topped her. The kissing was like a harsh dance once again, the hands moving everywhere, groping and nipping every possible inch of skin. Then he went inside of her.

At first they both froze up. But whatever mild shock had come was quickly swallowed up by hormones and lust. They were merciless with each other, sparing no room for comfort or gentleness. This was all out war with their bodies. And yet they were so in sync, working with each other, thrusting and bucking at the same pace, escalating at the same time. Sweat poured off their bodies in rivers, the sticky heat blanketed them, her legs curled around his waist like a vice, his fingers pressed into her sides in a crushing grip, her nails clawed into his skin, putting the ships floorboard to shame. It was completely primal. Carnivorous. Savage. They were tearing each other apart.
But the blissful violence came to an end eventually. But it was the most breath stealing end he had. He could feel the wave of pure ecstasy shoot through him completely, making his lungs cease and his skin quiver. He couldn't even suppress the groan that was forced out of him. But the noise he made was completely overwhelmed by Carrie. The finale she had must have been intense, because she had essentially screamed out as if hit by a climactic, euphoric oblivion. Her body, particularly her hips, were convulsing uncontrollably and her right leg was having what he could only assume were involuntarily spasms, making her violently kick out. And then it was over.

This was probably the best sex he had ever had. He had done it about twenty something times. Now it was twenty something and one. He was completely exhausted, his body slumped to the side of Carries, his muscles cowering away. His breathing was laboured, as if he had a pound of rose petals resting on his chest. Heaven could suck it. He looked over at her, watching her pant even more heavily than him, with dishevelled hair that was soaked with sweat, making it glisten in the moonlight that was softly breathed through the ship window. He couldn't help but play "You and Me" by Lifehouse through his head. It was a fairly old song but it was one he always loved.
Suddenly she sat up, making it look impossible from exhaustion. She got to her feet with the support of the headboard, standing on the bed. She opened the window above the bed and let in an icy cool sea breeze. The salty chill in the wind touched Scott on his forehead and chest, he saw Carrie was letting it caress her face and wash over her breasts. Her head was hung back as her eyes were closed. She breathed in the ocean air, a perfect picture of total content relaxation. He could understand it, but for some reason he rejected it. The cold was merely a horde icicles, dissecting his scars. The cold had never bugged him before, but now he wanted the uncomfortably warm heat that blanketed him before. The way it took him in that comatose state was peculiarly inviting. Also he as jealous of it.

The cold was embracing Carrie, and she took it in pleasurably. He wanted that. He wanted Carrie. What was he doing? What was going on in his mind? His brain was once again fucking with him. It was probably just that desire for closeness that came after sex. But that didn't change the fact that he got jealous of the fucking weather. That in itself was embarrassing, but over Carrie? That was just mortifying. It wasn't that it was Carrie, but it because of who she was to him that made it so stupid. Didn't it? Something had shifted. It was probably the need for closeness, but he couldn't help but look at her completely differently. She was the one that visited him in his room. She was the one who he went to save on the ship to France. She was the one who it was torture to not seen in days. And now she was the one he had sex with. This was probably just a passing sensation, but that didn't stop him from wanting her in his arms. She was the one.
He noticed a droplet running down, bee lining perfectly through the valley of her chest and now at a standstill just below her sternum. It could have been sweat or the ocean. Either way it was glittering in the light, a gem upon a diamond. With all his effort, he knelt up, rested his head against her stomach, ran his hands from her hips to hers sides, looked up, and kissed the droplet softly.
"Sorry. Post intercourse craving for intimacy". He looked up at her with a smile, hiding the need for her as an angelic teddy-bear, behind a clown mask. She smiled back. Then slowly fell to her knees.
"Go on then" she said, before airily kissing his top lip. Post-intercourse craving for intimacy. They shuffled under the blankets together and held each other into a gentle sleep.

"Oy fuckhead! Breakfast 's out at the captain's table soon, something about making up for a fuck up. You see ginger you give her a shout yeah?" Jack was now the most evil person on the planet.
"Nrrrgghhh... yeah..."
"Oh yeah, you know I said about it being soon? Little thing about that, I may have meant two hours. I got a little excited, I mean come on! It's the captain's table! It's like we're fucking minted or -" Jack left quickly after Scott casually interrupted him by throwing a shoe violently at the door. In his extremely tired state he thought the shoe had a knife on it since he was on a military vessel. Logic
"Scott, sweetie, get the fuck up" moaned out a voice from a large clump of orange hair.
"Why?" he groaned, rolling over, flopping like a slug.
""Because I am bored" she said factually, sitting up and shoving her hair out of her face. "I have been awake for half an hour and your hipbone has been poking somewhere that made me all tingly."
"Shit, sorry" he replied flatly, feeling her weight shift off the bed. Probably going to get dressed.
"Yeah well, now you are going to make up for it fool" she said in that same factual voice as her weight shifted onto his legs like a bag of sand pressing down on him. His head rotated slowly and he dragged is eyelids apart reluctantly. She was, in fact, not dressed. She was just as naked as before, wearing nothing but her black socks. And now she had a good grip on the neck of a Bourim bottle. "Surely you know about how the way women have orgasms, yes? Unlike men, we don't flump back after we're finished. We can keep them coming, and coming, and coming..."
"Get to the point. I mean granted it's quite obvious, but some specifics please?"
"I'm going to teach you how to like Bourim whiskey" she said flirtatiously as she uncorked the bottle. She pressed the tip between her collarbones, tipped it back and let the copper liquid flow down her body. She handed Scott the bottle and told him to drink it so he'd wake up. He took a swig, gagged a little and felt an acidic burning open his eyes. He then chucked the bottle carelessly onto the floor and began to lick the forfeit off her body, then followed the trail down.

"Hey you!" Jack said in his most camp voice possible. Scott replied with a slap to the head.
"I'm sftill piffsed at you for your timing".
"What's up with your speech? You have a bit of a lithp" Hardy said curiously.
"Morning to you too. I jufst fslept funny." he said calmly. His poker face was a force to be rec.
They sat down and began to eat, when Scott suddenly noticed a look swapped between Alison and Jack. Carrie had noticed it too. "You know, don't you?"
"Know wha-"
"YES" Jack said loudly, quickly interrupting Alison's attempt at saving some dignity.
"Jack, for fucksake..." Alison said irritably.
"What? She called it! Besides, it's not like we were listening or anything, we were just told by one of the soldiers that they heard noises. Most likely it was you but nothing was concrete."
"I haven't had my morning coffee, what's..."
"Our lad's got a wee case of 'divers tongue'. It's what happens after, say, two hours..." he trailed off when he saw Alison's death glare and Carrie keeping her head low. He looked Scott's way. Scott didn't particularly mind but he reckoned Carrie did. "You complete slut" Jack said out of the blue. Everyone stared at him. Carrie had a look that was a perfect cocktail of offense and anger "Not you Carrie, you're fine" Jack said calmly, seeming not to be acknowledging her anger, "I', talking to Scott. First that one night stand then your BDSM bitch and now you're fucking your friends? For shame" he said as he threw an orange at his head. Scott looked over and saw Alison sigh in exhaustion. Carrie was grinning away. Scott was doing the exact same thing. "So come on Carrie, tell us! It's a toaty wee tinky isn't it?"
"I'm not at liberty to say" she said mockingly.
"Fuck Jack! Do you have any sense of tact- forget I asked that" Alison burst out indignantly.
"Was it good?" He asked curiously? "Frenchie said there was screaming."
"That was probably more likely to be from when he was biting into my nipples." The entire room went silent and everyone stared at Carrie. All of them, including Carrie, went-wide eyed.
"Why would you say that?"
"I don't know why I would say that!" Scott pressed his face into his palm. "Sorry..."
Then Hardy perked up."Everyone, I'd like to properly introduce you to Captain Pierre..." his hand gestured to the man sitting at the head of the table, who was smiling awkwardly at the conversation taking place. "I'd like you to listen to a couple of pointers of his..." he said to the four of them, still crimson-faced. Save for Jack. He was trying not to burst out laughing.