Ohhh, that tug. He grinned into the kiss, squeezed her hips, stroked down her thighs. It was so much better being skin to skin. "Aha," he murmured against her lips. "I've dug far enough and reached skin." He playfully pinched the sides of her knees. "Years of prospecting, finally paying off..."

Another grin, and he sunk back into their kisses. He couldn't get enough of this. God, he hoped she came back quickly. She was the Captain, she could choose whenever they came back, right? Within reason. He kissed her harder, trying to drive away thoughts of her leaving, and rolled his hips against hers with a shaky sigh.

That had to be one of the gentlest jokes he’d ever told during sex (or foreplay or whatever). It wasn’t a dig at her in any way, just carrying on the earlier conversation. It made her feel… warm. And it made her miss him all the more, a ridiculous thought given they still had what was left of tonight and had barely gotten started.

But she giggled. She giggled because he was being silly, and the part of her that wasn’t sad was delighted. Funny, how he always made her feel such completely opposite things at the same time. She adored how his hands felt against her skin, and she remembered the warmth, the roughness. God, she remembered him so well, but also realized the parts she hadn’t specifically been thinking about. Well, no more. She’d commit it all, to keep her company on the long, lonely nights of the rest of her life.

“Oh, years, hmm?’ she murmured against his lips. "You getting worse at undressing a woman since your time as a landlubber?”

That roll, that sigh. His voice gave her chills, and she made a sound that was a mixture of a hum and a groan, and squeezed her legs around him. She needed him near tonight. As near as he could possibly be.

"Damn fucking right you are." Of course she knew. How could she not know? He made it so damn clear. He was weak to her in every way - whatever she wanted, he'd give her, he'd do, he'd be.

He stroked her face, held it in his hands, licking into her mouth with a sigh of satisfaction. She stroked his skin and left a trail of goosebumps in her wake. How had he gone a year without this?

He grabbed the hem of her trousers and yanked them down, stepping back a little to give himself room. The minute he'd discarded them, he lean in once again, hands pressed on the table either side of her waist and kissing her hard.

Why did hearing him admit that make her feel both elated and terrible at the same time? Well, she knew why. It was nice to be the exception to someone’s rule. And she was preemptively feeling guilty for never coming back after tonight. But she was doing it for a good reason, and had to stick to it.

She toed her boots off as he kissed her, eager to have less on. She still had her shirt and trousers, now that she was rid of her belt, leather bodice, and sleeveless coat. She could walk around outside and still be considered decent.

And, oop! There went the trousers! She laughed softly, until he kissed her again, and it was her turn to tug his hips roughly against hers. The table was new, it was true, but everything else about this was so familiar that it was practically comforting, despite the eager thrill she was getting.

She kissed him hard back, wanting to give him absolutely everything he wanted tonight. A last parting gift.

Her hand in his hair made him sigh and press closer. He grabbed her thighs and tugged her closer to the edge of the table so he could press his hips against hers. His breath caught; he caught her lip in his teeth for a moment, then broke off with a soft sigh.

"Says a lot that you're still crazy hot even when you say dumb shit," he purred, stroking her hair back, curling his fingers on her neck, thumb brushing against her pulse. He'd missed that, too. Hell, he'd missed everything. His other hand stroked up her leg, palm pressing up along her thigh, feeling the shape and the strength and admiring every inch.

It was thrilling, the way he tugged her against him, and she exhaled a soft groan of longing. And the way he nibbled her lip? Mmm, to die for. She was honestly glad she hadn’t had anyone since him. Not only did she simply not want it, the memory of him hadn’t been marred by anything. It was all just how she remembered.

She laughed again, softer this time, her eyes twinkling in delight. “It says that I’m also the exception to a lot of your rules,” she purred in reply.

God, the way he held her by the back of the neck, and felt along her thigh. She was going to need to get out of these trousers and soon. An open belt wasn’t nearly enough. She stroked down his arm and up his chest, remembering everything about him. his likes, his dislikes, how his voice sounded when it felt particularly good for him.

She was laughing, and it made him grin, though he was completely bemused about what she'd said and what she was saying now. Joking? Alright. He could roll with that. It made sense that they were kinda out of sync with each other now, given how long it'd been.

"Let's just go?" he repeated with a stifled laugh. "Alright. Sure. Let's go." And he pulled off his jumper, dropping it carelessly aside before leaning in to kiss her again. It was easier now she was set up; he pressed a hand against the back of her head to keep her close.

His stifled laugh, and it warmed her heart. With his sweater gone, she took a moment to just look at him. His stomach was a bit soft, but she found she liked it. He looked well-fed. Relaxed. It suited him quite a bit.

“See? A little rusty,” she murmured just before he kissed her again. She fisted her hand in his hair, remembering how he enjoyed that, and stroked her other hand up his back slowly, feeling the bumps of all his scars, exposed to the air.

She took the coat (and the Tear) off so easily around him, even after a year, and it touched something inside him. That trust was still very much there, clearly, and he liked that a hell of a lot. He laughed softly at her purr and drew back, raising his eyebrows then. "Well, give me a hint, girl. How slow d'you mean?"

True, he hadn't actually thought she'd meant that slow - kissing her like that had just been a way to show her that, despite his teasing, he was taking her request seriously.

“I don’t know!” she laughed. She felt silly, light, and it was refreshing to know she could be like this with him still, even after all this time. “I think I was joking, though.”

And she meant that. She’d been joking, but had said it a little too sincerely.

“Let’s just… go. Do what feels natural.” For us.

Hadn’t wanted to. Huh. Because… of him? He knew how that felt. To have it so good, the way they’d been together, it was hard to find anything - or anyone - else that measured up.

“Do we have to?” he muttered playfully, pulling her to sit up a little so he could push the unbuckled garment off of her torso. But if she wanted slow, okay, he could do that. He held her waist in his hands and kissed her again, making a conscious effort to be slower about it this time, more careful. Hey, he could tease her all day long, but he’d never actually begrudge her telling him what she wanted or needed during this. She’d get whatever she asked for.

Sat up as she was, she shrugged out of the jacket that hid the Sun’s Tear and let it fall off the table. She’d never needed it around him the way she did around the rest of the world. Not since Rogue’s Landing, at least.

His kiss was slower, and she smiled briefly against it. “Maybe not quite that slow,” she purred. “It’s not like my body doesn’t remember you.”

Maybe it was sappy to admit, but she’d been thirsty for him since they’d started talking in earnest this evening. Her body most certainly remembered him, sometimes in flashes of memory so brilliant she could almost taste the coconut.

Her hands against his scars was strangely good. He'd thought he'd never want anyone knowing about them or seeing them, let alone touching them, but she was so careful. She never brought it up. She just... let him be. Looked after whatever parts he cared to show her.

Damn, she made him weirdly sappy. Fuck sake.

Then she spoke. He pulled away so he could look at her, trying to figure out if she was serious. She hadn't slept with anyone since him? Over a year ago? ... why? Well, she'd been on a long voyage to South America, he supposed. Being at sea for so long didn't provide many opportunities. Still, she'd offered him a real vulnerability there, and he had to figure out what to do with it.

He cleared his throat, looked her up and down. "No hot pirates take your fancy...?" He stroked his hands down her sides, wishing it could be skin against skin. Soon. "Y'know, it's kinda hard to be very active in a small town like this one." There. He wasn't quite on her level, but it wasn't as if he'd been constantly sleeping around, either. At first, sure, he'd tried a few times, but his interest had just... waned.

“Nope,” she chuckled, popping the ‘p’ on it. “Been far too busy. Just haven’t… wanted to.” It was strange to admit. She’d never talked to him before about how strange attraction was for her. How she would pick whoever even slightly caught her eye when she was already in the mood for sex, but how it was in no way about her partner. How he was the only person she’d ever been attracted to.

But then he admitted something similar. That he didn’t have nearly so active a sex life as he once had, and she felt strangely better for it.

“So, maybe we start a little slow, since we’re both rusty.” She didn’t feel rusty. Not with him right there, leaning over her, unbuckling her buckles.

He rolled his eyes at her teasing. She'd known exactly what he meant, and he knew it. And the table comment. She was right. This was a new one on them. Trees, walls, a bureau, the beach, beds... a table was new. "Shush," he growled against her lips.

As soon as her palms were against his bare skin, he practically crumbled beneath her touch. That was it. That was what he'd been desperately wanting. Her touch, however she wanted to give it. He sighed out and drew back just enough that he could see what he was doing. Being out of practice meant having to pay a little more attention to his hands. He unbuckled her belt, smiling as the buckle hit the wood of the table with a dull clunk. Next was the buckles of her... corset? Bodice? He didn't know. He didn't care what it was called. He just tugged open the buckles, then the lacing, before diving back in to kiss her some more with a needy little hum.

That ‘shush’ only made her grin broaden. It was nice to have the upper hand, especially after how badly he’d gotten to her a little bit ago.

His sigh spoke volumes, and she stroked up his bare skin, feeling the scars all along his back. She hadn’t ever forgotten, but now she really remembered, and a soft melancholy that had nothing to do with their upcoming goodbye washed through her. She absolutely could not let this happen to him again.

She noticed that he had to look at what he was doing, and that was… odd. And ignited a stupid hope in her. Rather than ask him directly, she figured she’d at last give up the most recent of her weaknesses towards him.

“… I’m a little out of practice,” she admitted. “It’s been a while for me. … Little more than a year.”

He couldn't help but laugh at her response, though the sound was a little strained. Now that they'd kissed like this and she'd pressed her hips against his the way she had, he was growing more needy by the moment. The way she'd growled at him and pressed the blade to his throat and straddled him in his chair and whimpered against his lips... God. He'd never stood a chance.

"One or two layers isn't enough?"

They'd slowed down a little too much for his liking, though, and with a tiny groan of want and frustration, he moved them again, hauling her over to one of the long wooden tables and laying her down. He didn't say a word, just kissed her again, one hand gripping at her hip, the other brushing her hair away from her face and then sinking into it, curling around the nape of her neck.

God, he sounded so good, all strained like this. She hadn’t stood a chance. Even his cool restraint had been fuel for the fire. What did that say about her that pretending he didn’t want her had been a turn on?

“You only want one or two layers off?” she countered with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t want to see me in all my naked glory?”

He laid her out on the table, and she couldn’t help a gentle laugh at that. “On a table. That new for us,” she mused. And then he was kissing her again, and it was her turn to delve her hands under the cozy warmth of his sweater. She definitely wanted to see him in all his naked glory. God she’d missed him, every single bit. From his smile that lit up the room to the scars that defined him. Every infuriating detail of his personality, and all the endearing ones, too.

Grinning at her admission, he claimed her lips again, sinking blissfully into the kiss. It was so messy and desperate and so damn good.

What was the point of resisting this if they both wanted it? And it wasn't like it'd make the separation any harder.

Anyway, when the hell had he started thinking of it as a 'separation'? They weren't together. They'd kind of had a Thing, and now they lived two completely different lives and would rarely see each other. So what if they got along well and slept together when she was in port? Didn't mean anything more than that. Friendship with a little extra.

And if it wasn't, and would never be, anything more than that, maybe it'd be best if they kept this downstairs. Better to keep some boundaries, much as he'd like to see her sprawled out on his bed, all gorgeous and bare and looking at him the way she did. Looking at him. Seeing him in a way that nobody else ever had or probably ever would.

Okay. Downstairs. Don't get too emotional. Got it.

He slid his hands down her waist, pushing under the sweater only to find her coat and shirt and corset and God only knew what else. "Why d'you always wear like thirty layers?" he growled. "Just to piss me off?"

Okay, so they were definitely doing this. And she wanted it. She wanted it so badly. So, stop going over all the reasons not to and just enjoy it.

She was good at enjoying things.

His hands went seeking, and she grinned at his frustration. “Precisely,” she said. “It has nothing at all to do with utilitarianism, fashionable flare, and the fact that a woman parading 'round naked amongst pirates is a lousy idea. It’s all to piss you off.”

Still, she maneuvered and got his sweater off her, tossing it with good aim toward the chair she’d been sitting in. “One down, twenty-nine to go.”