Captain Tricky

[oroburos69]

Title:  Captain Tricky
Pairing: Jane/Lisbon
Beta: Lady_of_Scarlet
Summary:  Lisbon has a thing for pirates. Jane likes playing dress up.
Warnings: Spanking, tickling, pirates, forced orgasm, role playing, humor and fluff.
A/N: Happy Birthday lady_of_scarlet! (You OWE me. Masquerade and hands in the pants. I expect it by New Years.) Also, the only reason they do not use a condom is because, theoretically, they are in a monogamous, committed relationship, where both have been tested for STDs, and Lisbon is using an alternate form of birth control. AKA, it really would have broken the flow.

I have no explanation for the odd turn this took. Seriously, I’m sorry.
Disclaimer: I own nothing and make nothing from this. It is simply a hobby that I can’t tell anyone about. Much like being a serial killer. 

 

 

“If I say submit…” Jane trailed off, looking down at her. He leaned against the headboard, bent over her, making upside-down eye contact. His legs sprawled down the bed, brushing gently against her naked skin.

“Then I say fuck you,” Teresa retorted, a crooked smirk crossing her lips as she rattled the hand cuffs meaningfully. “Make me.”

Jane swallowed a laugh and tried to look serious as he shifted into character. “Aye, ‘tis time for yer keelhauling, ye scurvy wench,” he drawled. He punctuated the statement with a wink and ran a finger down the center of her chest.

 “Dear god, take off the hat,” Teresa wheezed through helpless laughter. She buried her face against her arm. She had thought she could take it seriously, but the accent made it impossible.

Jane frowned, affronted. “You asked for it!” he protested, removing the velvet pirate hat, sending the bright white ostrich feather bobbing. He loomed over her, trying to intimidate while fighting off his own laughter.

“Oh no, Dread Pirate Jane,” Teresa laughed, tears leaking out of the corners of her eyes. “Have I offended you?” The chain on the handcuffs clinked in a soft counterpoint to her giggles.

“I thought I was Captain Tricky?” Jane asked. He sat on the bed next to her, wind sucked out of his sails. He plucked at the knees of the costume, manfully resisting the urge to pout. The idea had been rather fun.

“Dear god, just untie me,” Teresa chuckled, laughter winding down. “There’s no way I can take this seriously now.” She glanced up at him and had to look away, snickering.

“I’m sorry, wench,” Jane replied, determined to make the best of the situation. “Was that an order?” He pulled the feather free from the hat and waved it threateningly.

Teresa fell to a fresh wave of giggles at the sight. “No, Captain Tricky, I’d never dream of giving you orders.” She rolled her eyes, face relaxed into an amused smile.

“That’s good,” Jane replied. He smirked. “That’s really good.” Jane lowered the feather to dance above her skin, the soft filaments sliding softly between her breasts. The feather trembled, slipping to the sides to trace over her nipples. The skin tightened.

Teresa shivered and rolled away from the teasing feather. “Jane, come on.” The feather dipped down her exposed back, slithering down the valley of her spine and vibrating happily over her tail bone, brushing against the edges of her underwear.

“I’m sorry wench; I do not know this Jane of whom you speak,” he said cheerfully, sending the feather slipping down the backs of her thighs. She squirmed trying to get away but was kept still by the handcuffs.

“Damn it, Patrick,” she cursed, glaring over her shoulder. “Not funny!”

“Captain Tricky,” he corrected her. “Now wench, I’ve heard that you have knowledge of the location of the best booty in California.”

Teresa broke down into laughter again, writhing against the handcuffs as the feather tormented her.

“Wench, I insist that you tell me where I can find this booty,” Jane chided her, skimming the feather along the underside of her arms. He shifted to his knees to follow her twisting body, drawing the feather down to the back of Teresa’s knees. Her feet kicked out, slamming into the baseboard.

“Booty?” she gasped through panting breaths. “Seriously?” She rolled back to face Jane, skin twitching away from the soft feather. She swung her legs around him, pinning his arms to his sides and moving that damn feather away from her knees. Teresa gripped the chain of the handcuffs, pulling up and twisting, knocking Jane off his knees and pinning him to the bed. The bed creaked loudly from the force of the flip.

“Oh, you’re a saucy one!” Jane said cheerfully. He wiggled under her, testing to see if he could get free.

She glared at Jane and sat down, using her body weight to keep him still. The ridiculous silk poet’s shirt brushed against her naked thighs and she rubbed against it slowly, enjoying the sensation. “It seems I have you at my mercy, Captain Tricky,” Teresa whispered, her voice low enough to be a growl.

Jane shivered under her, pulling his hands free, feather abandoned for the moment. “Perhaps we can come to an accord?” he asked, his voice deeper and rougher now. He laid his hands on her hips, fingers settling across her ass, thumbs resting on her prominent hipbones. Half-lidded eyes gazed calculatingly up at her.

“Let.” She leaned down, her breasts skimming against his shirt. “Me.” Teresa breathed onto his neck, lips grazing against his jugular. “Go.” She nipped at his neck and then licked the abused flesh, her tongue tracing a line up to his ear where she bit his earlobe for good measure.

“So soon?” he muttered a trifle breathlessly. He slid his hands down in a heavy-handed caress, clever fingers hiding themselves under the bright teal lace. She was wet, and he allowed himself a moment of self-congratulation. “I request that you reconsider before you make such an abrupt decision,” he said, turning to meet her eyes, their faces only inches apart.

“You wish to parley, Captain Tricky?” she breathed, rocking unhurriedly into his hands. Her eyes were drifting shut and Teresa seriously considered it. But with Jane, inches were miles. “No,” she decided reluctantly.

“Are you certain?” Jane asked in disappointment. He removed his hands from her underwear and let them fall onto the sheets.

“Completely,” Teresa confirmed, stretching out languidly and rubbing her chest across the soft silky shirt. She could see his pulse jump at the movement and she had to restrain herself from an evil laugh.

“Then I suppose I have no choice,” Jane said reluctantly. He pulled himself out from under Teresa, rubbing himself shamelessly against her as he did so.

Jane gave her a playful slap on the ass. “It’s such a pity that you drove me to this, wench.”

Teresa looked up, suddenly wary. She only caught sight of Jane’s wicked grin before he pulled the cords attached to her ankles, sending her sprawling face down onto the bed. She fought back, yanking her legs back as hard as she could, struggling against him.

Jane tied the lengths of cord together, stretched tight around the baseboard. She had just enough slack to struggle prettily. Jane paused to enjoy the view, ignoring the vile curses she spat at him.

“How the fuck did you get those on me?” she snarled, twisting her head up over her arms to glare at him. Teresa yanked on the cords again, but they held firm, pulled tight over her ankles.

“Magic,” Jane said happily, wiggling his fingers. He crawled back onto the bed, maintaining a cautious distance from Teresa. She was lying on top of the feather, he realized in disappointment. He looked at her contemplatively.

“Fuck you,” she growled, teeth bared in an unfriendly grimace.

“How very déclassé,” Jane replied, voice steady. “I believe we were discussing the matter of the finest booty in California?” he continued, stroking her arm. Teresa snapped at him and he barely got his hand out of range of her teeth.

“Eventually, you will have to release me,” Teresa threatened, scowling at him fiercely.

“Eventually, you will have to tell me what you know,” Jane mocked her, resting a hand on her ass, holding it there as she tried to buck it off.

“To hell with you, Captain Tricky,” Teresa cursed, “I’ll take the secret of the California Booty to my grave.”

Jane snorted before he regained control of himself. “Then you shall live long enough to regret that decision,” he declared solemnly. “It’s a pity,” he added thoughtfully. “You’re a pretty one.”

Teresa blushed.

Jane slapped her ass.

Teresa fought against her bonds, trying to get at him. “I’m going to get free, and then I’m going tie your ass up and violate you!” she swore, pulling hard enough that the bed frame groaned.

Jane paused, his hand raised for another strike. He looked at her warily.

“With a goddamn fence post!” she yelled. “You will regret the day you crossed me, Captain Tricky!”

Jane gave a breath of relief and spanked her again, aiming for the lovely pale skin under the curve of the lace. His hand connected, shocking the skin white. He watched as it slowly flushed a delicate pink. “I regret nothing,” Jane replied. “Will you submit? Will you give up the secret of the California Booty?”

“Never!” Teresa said defiantly.

Jane chuckled darkly. “I was hoping you would say that,” he whispered silkily. He lay over the small of her back to keep her from fighting, muttering quickly. “Can you breathe?”

“I’m good,” Teresa responded absently, focusing on the feel of him on top of her, holding her down.

He struck her three times in rapid succession, then used his other hand to pull her panties to the side. Jane leaned down harder, curling around so he could watch his hands.

“Fuck,” she swore, bucking under his weight. He traced delicate patterns on her skin. It tickled.

He thrust two fingers into her and ran his thumb over her clit. "Unless you reveal the secret of the Californian Booty, I will be forced to continue," Jane threatened, sounding a trifle distracted.

"Oh no," Teresa muttered into the sheets, shifting her hips to give him better access. "Whatever shall I do?"

"I'm sure you'll think of something," Jane replied, drawing his hand away and thrusting it back into her. He nipped her ass playfully, his hands busy working.

"What the hell?" Teresa laughed, shifting under him. "Did you just bite me?"

"Maybe?" Jane responded, increasing his pace as he felt her responding, driving her hips into his hand. "Spur of the moment, really," he explained, twisting to hold her down more firmly. She still rocked him back and forth with every thrust of his hand, but he was much less likely to be thrown off.

Teresa made a soft rumbling noise, half-way between a growl and a purr as she came, suddenly pushing into the bed, driving her hips down and into Jane's hand. She shuddered, light sweat gleaming across her narrow shoulders.

Jane wormed his other hand under her hips, pressing into her from her front, his fingers slippery. He added another finger.

Teresa shifted uncomfortably, her body vibrating and twitching with each brush of his fingers. She pulled away as best she could, hindered by the white cords on her ankles. "Damn it, Captain Tricky, stop it," she told him waspishly, trying to shift her over sensitized flesh away from his probing hands.

"No," he refused; eyes alight with a wicked gleam that she couldn't see. "I don't think I will."

"Fuck," she cursed breathlessly, his touch becoming too much, bordering on the edge of pain. She twisted, rising up under him and nearly knocking him off. “You asshole, I’ll skin you alive,” Teresa snarled. She shuddered violently, his touch echoing up her spine and curling up under her scalp. She could feel her hair rising on end.

“The secret, wench,” Jane insisted.

“Go to hell,” she groaned through gritted teeth. Her breath came out in a continuous long moaned and she shuddered constantly, her limbs pulled again her bonds, every muscle tense and jerking.

“Tell me,” he whispered against her hip and he wasn’t talking about the Californian Booty anymore. He licked the curve of her ass, tracing the tight line of teal lace. She was wound tight enough to break under his touch.

“Please,” she responded, arcing up, a painfully brilliant implosion vibrating through her, concentrating in a hard ball in her belly. Harsh breaths whistled through her teeth. “Goddamn, you bastard,” she wailed, as he didn’t stop. The steady motion of his hands, slowing and speeding up, was painfully acute, the pleasure hidden in its shadows killing her.

“Beg,” he told her, the pirate premise forgotten. His hands were wet, and he wanted to fuck her as she lay splayed underneath him, tied up and powerless. He wanted her to scream his name.

“Fuck,” she cried out, trying to pull her thighs together and stop him. “Damn it, please, Jane,” she moaned, sweat dripping down her spine, her entire body jerking and spasming helplessly. He twisted his fingers and she bit the sheets, the soft cotton shearing apart in her teeth.

“Beg me,” he insisted, looking up the line of her body, all that glorious strength bucking, shivering from his touch.

“Please, Patrick.” She shivered. “Please,” she sobbed, no longer certain what she was begging him to do. “Dear god, please, master.” His hands left her and she collapsed into the sweat damped sheets, vibrating from relief, release. She can feel Jane rolling off her, hear his clothing rustling.

“Since you asked so nicely, wench,” Jane growled into her ear, sliding into her. He had to stop once he was fully inside, holding himself back.

Teresa mumbled something incoherent, spreading her legs wider. The knife’s edge of pain had receded, leaving a warm wave of pleasure. She sighed and relaxed, allowing him to do as he wanted.

Jane felt her surrender and it undid him. He settled on top of her, his arms embracing her. The loose silk of the pirate shirt draped over her skin, caressing her sleek curves. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, his breath condensing on her skin.

She hummed happily, undulating serenely under Jane. She felt his warmth inside and out. There was a slow rush of pleasure, soft and gentle this time. It cusped and mellowed, releasing residual tension, leaving her boneless.

Jane slid to her side. He reached behind him lazily and grabbed the key to the handcuffs. He released her hands and her arms fell limply. He couldn’t help but to poke her gently. She didn’t respond, so he did it again.

“Fuck off, Jane,” she muttered affectionately.

Jane shrugged and untied her ankles. He picked up the pirate hat from the bed and twisted the brim, a trifle anxiously.  “Did you…” Jane began, looking over at her carefully, not wanting to provoke her now that she was free. “…call me ‘Master’?” he asked hopefully.

“Too much?” Teresa asked lazily, every bone in her body thrumming.

“Not at all,” he replied, hooking the hat onto the bedpost. “Not at all."