HKVerse 9, Miranda/Mark/Vin, "Pirates" (NC-17)
Title: Pirates
Fandom: Actorslash AU
Pairing: Miranda Otto/Vin Diesel/Mark Lutz
Authors: msilverstar,telesilla, and zillah975
Rating: NC-17 (references to BDSM)
Disclaimer: Not true: we made it up
Summary: The first morning, Miranda gets to know the blokes better and overcomes certain inhibitions.
Series: Hong Kong-verse AU. Miranda's a travel writer, Mark's a photographer, and Vin owns an import/export business; they meet in Hong Kong, and Miranda gets involved in Vin and Mark's BDSM lifestyle. Series parts: 1, 1.5, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11.
Feedback: Please!
Archive: Notification required - send email to archive at msilverstar dot com.
Miranda has never woken up like this. Sharing a bed is old hat, but not being naked and tangled with two gorgeous blokes. She's feeling thoroughly rooted, in the best possible way. It's greedy, it's impossible, she knows that, but she'd happily sleep like this every night. She's fallen fast and hard into this thing -- it's not exactly love, it's some combination of lust and addiction. Desires for things she never knew about. Lucky it happened now, because these two seem so nice, though she's been fooled before.
As the sky outside gets light, Miranda determines to treat them as guides, not gods. She'll ask for books and web sites, and maybe people to talk to, though she quails at that. She does have to find out, what does being a 'girl' mean? She'll get their expert advice, as they seem to have found their equilibrium. And the two of them, they have to decide how she will fit in. Does she, well, belong to Mark? Does he belong to Vin? So many bloody questions, she's not the only one who has to do some talking.
Mark feels the change in Mir's breathing, the slow coming awake, and he shifts against her, nuzzling in and draping his arm across her waist. "G'morning," he murmurs. "How'd you sleep?"
"Good, I slept really well for someone squashed between two big blokes!" She's teasing, but it's true. No regrets, though. Miranda snuggles into Mark's hug, enjoying the closeness. His arm on her, without any prompting from him, makes her feel pinned down, in a disturbingly sexy way. She tries to ignore that feeling.
It's one of those mornings when Mark wakes up awake -- he wishes he could figure out the difference, why some mornings it's impossible to sleep in and others it's impossible to wake up, but for whatever reason, this is the former. He nudges in to kiss Miranda's throat, then sits up, scooting a bit so as not to pull the covers off either Mir or Vin. "I think," he says quietly, rubbing his face, "that I'm in the mood for a big breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, juice, coffee, all of it. You hungry?"
After all that exertion, Miranda figures she deserves a bit of a fry-up. "Sounds lovely, do you want some help?" She's awake, and ready to do something besides contemplating her life turning upside down.
"Keep me company?" Mark asks, reaching for his robe.
Miranda nods, slips out of bed, and takes the robe she wore last night. If she's going to stay here more often, she'll have to bring some more clothes over. Especially knickers, as hers seem to get a bit damp around Mark. Both parts of that idea -- the staying over and the soaking her pants -- make her shiver.
She finds the dunny and washes up a bit. Cold water on her face does help her to think more clearly. Then she puts up her hair, squares her shoulders and walks out to the kitchen to find Mark.
Mark grins at her as she comes into the kitchen. "You look cute all swallowed up in terrycloth," he says as he measures out flour. "Hey, there's juice in the fridge if you want it -- glasses up there," nodding to the cupboard, "and the coffee's brewing, should be done in," glancing at the coffeepot, "about six minutes. Make yourself at home."
"Ta," Miranda says, getting herself some juice. She asks, "But I'm a child of Empire, do you have a kettle and some tea? I'm not terribly picky, Tetley's or Lipton is fine." It's nice to be domestic like this, though she gets a funny twinge when something reminds her of that night she cooked for him half-naked.
"Oh absolutely," Mark says, stopping what he's doing to get the kettle. "There's half a dozen kinds of tea in the pantry -- take your pick, and I'll get the water on." There's English Breakfast, so Miranda picks that and looks forward to a nice hot cuppa. Clinging to familiar things, she's done that in strange places. Going back to the kitchen, she asks "How can I help? Can I start the bacon?"
"Yeah, that'd be great," Mark says. Normally he'd shush her and tell her just to sit, but she seems to need something to do, and he doesn't mind the help. "Pans are all in the lower cabinet by the stove, and the bacon should be in the right-hand meat keeper in the fridge, unless Vin moved it."
Miranda rummages around until she finds everything, and then starts to cook, chatting lightly with Mark as she does. It's nice: domestic, friendly, no orders or shedding clothes. Apparently, he doesn't want to do all that all the time, which is a relief. When the bacon is bubbling gently and her tea is steeping, she leans against him and asks "Anything else for me to do?"
"Mmmm," Mark turns and grabs a quick kiss, smiling. "Nah, just hang out, keep me company." He turns to wash the flour off his hands, then sets the batter aside to wait for the griddle to heat and reaches for the eggs. "It's nice having you here," he says. "Glad you don't mind being squashed between two big blokes," and his imitation of her accent is terrible and he shoots her a grin and a wink. "We get too heavy, a good tickle'll wake either of us up."
"It felt good," she admits. Hard to say that, because it's like the other things they did, and she's still surprised at how much she likes it when they hold her down. She sips at her tea gingerly, savouring the heat and says, "Can I get out some fruit? Balance out the meat and carbs?"
"Oh, now see that's why it's important to have a woman around," Mark says, then laughs. "Well, one of the many reasons. Yes, fruit would be excellent, and I never think of it. There's a grapefruit and a couple of oranges in the pantry, and I think some grapes in one of the crisper drawers."
Oh. Miranda knows she's analysing his every sentence like those Kremlin-watchers from the Cold War. She should stop, but it's too easy to grasp at tidbits of encouragement. "Right-oh, I'll do that then." While she automatically cuts and washes the fruit, she scolds herself for thinking that was any kind of invitation.
Oblivious to Miranda's uncertainty, Mark continues on with breakfast, pausing to get a bowl for the fruit and to give a little kiss to the back of her neck. "That's great," he says. "There's some sugar if you want it, too. I wonder if I can get strawberries this time of year -- I'll have to look when I'm at the store again. I'll bet they'd be great in there."
His ease, the little kisses, all help Miranda relax. "Sounds lovely," she says, though nothing in the world tastes like wild Alpine strawberries. "Um," it's a bit easier to talk while they're working together, "You were right, last night, we should talk. About what we want, not just me, all right?"
"That's cool," Mark says, nodding. "There's a lot we could talk about. Do you know where you want to start?"
"No," Miranda laughs, nervously. "I see why you love Vin, he's amazing." She had no idea how Vin would make her feel: small, protected, vulnerable and sexual, all at the same time. Different from Mark, less of the sweetness and good nature that makes Mark so easy to trust. More challenging, but despite, or maybe because of that, reliable in the important ways. "I really liked it, erm, being with both of you," -- strewth, that's hard to say -- "but I don't know how I fit."
Mark squelches the impulse to make a joke of it -- nicely in the middle, or comfortably snug or something. This isn't the time, not now. Especially not when Mir sometimes takes things seriously at just the wrong moment.
"Well, I guess we're all still working that out, yeah?" he says instead. "I mean it might be too early for you to even know how you want to fit," and he wipes his hands on a damp towel and leans against the counter beside her. "Maybe a good place to start would be with how Vin and I fit -- we're equals, but in a way we're not, too."
"Tell me?" Miranda says, needing very much to know more about this, but still a little apprehensive about about what she'll hear.
"Okay, you've gotta bear with me," Mark says. "And remember your Whitman -- if it seems like what I'm saying contradicts itself, just remember: people are vast, and contain multitudes."
Grabbing a few drops of water from the faucet, he turns to the griddle and splashes it, pleased to see the water bounce. He picks up the pancake batter and talks as he starts to pour. "So, we're equals, yeah? Me and Vin. Lovers, partners, we support each other, take care of each other, just like in any other relationship. But at the same time, I belong to him in a way that works for both of us. If he tells me to do something, I'm going to do it, but I also trust him not to tell me to do something that's going to cause me harm or make me genuinely unhappy."
The batter sizzles faintly on the griddle, and Mark glances towards the bedroom, hoping he's explaining things the way Vin would want them explained, and that it make sense to Miranda. "I may not always like what he tells me to do," he goes on, "but I'll love doing it for Vin." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Sometimes I really crave for him to tell me to do something I don't want to do, so that I can do it for him. Not that there's a whole lot I don't like to do," he adds with a grin. "But like, if I were just going to the theater one night I can guarantee you I wouldn't put be wearing a cock cage and a plug, but if Vin tells me to, it becomes a huge turn-on because it's evidence of his control over me and my willingness to be controlled. Does that make sense?"
Miranda's been watching Mark as he explains, trying to follow his meaning and understand how it is between them. The first part makes sense, but it gets more foreign after that. She's never seen a cock cage or a plug, but has a vague idea of what they're for, and cringes a little, thinking about that. She starts to say something but can't quite think of what. Mark certainly obeyed Vin last night, on his knees and sucking cock, so that's the starting place. It's so strange to think of a man, and Mark is quite a man, being the submissive one.
"Does it carry over?" She's not making sense, she can tell. "How much does it affect the rest, outside of the sex? Does he run your life, too?"
"He could, if he wanted to," Mark says, raising the edge of a pancake and then turning it. "But no, that part is pretty much like anyone else's relationship, talking things out and deciding together. We've been pretty lucky, I guess, in that we've not had any huge disagreements over what to do. Both our careers are so flexible it's not like either of us has been confronted with having to move for the other or something."
Miranda can feel what it means to let someone else have control, to enjoy obeying. It sizzles in her like the bacon on the stove. Even right this instant, if Mark or Vin were to order her to do something -- take off the robe, kneel down before them, even fuck them right now -- she'd likely do it. It's still a shock, to feel that in herself. She asks, "What about when you don't want to, when you are sick or busy or just don't feel like it?" She's asking about them, but also about what they want from her.
Mark chuckles. "When I'm sick, I'm lucky if he lets me do anything for myself, much less him," he says. "If I sincerely don't have time -- like, can't do it -- he doesn't ask me to. At least not that I remember him ever doing. But if I'm just busy or not in the mood, I might push back a little to see if he really means it, and if he does, I'll do it." He shoots her a grin and a wink and adds, "And usually by the time we're halfway into it, I'm remembering why I let him. But y'know this is just us," he goes on, turning back to the pancakes. "This is what works for me and him. It's not the only way to do it -- far from it. I think there are as many ways to do it as people doing it."
That's enormously reassuring, that it's not all about force and pressure. "I need to read up on it," Miranda says, "do you have any books or web sites? I don't even know the right words." It's still odd, the idea of giving up her independence in any way, because it's been such a long battle to get anyone to take her seriously.
"Mmm, absolutely," Mark says. "I've got a veritable lending library on the stuff -- I'll grab some books for you after breakfast, sort of 'intro to kink' books. One of 'em's even called S&M 101," he says with a grin, adding a pancake to the slowly growing stack.
"Is what you do 'S&M'?" It sounds very painful, more than a little spanking. Though the paddle might qualify. Miranda takes a breath to calm down from that thought.
"Some of it," Mark says. "What we usually call it is BDSM, which is soft of a blanket term," and he pauses to tick them off on his fingers: "Bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, and sadomasochism. They don't always break out into neat pairs like that, but it's a good shorthand for starting to talk about it."
Miranda thinks about that, while Mark works on the eggs and the pancakes. Bondage is all right, but discipline, that's weirder. That must have been what Mark was on about the night she made dinner, when he got mad cos she couldn't control herself, and he punished her.
Dominance and submission are what he's just been talking about, the control thing, wearing cages and plugs. It's not just that. When Mark offered her mouth to Vin the first time, and then later Vin pulled her hair and gave her to Mark, that felt so sexy, so right somehow. She wants them to run the show, and to obey them.
And the S&M thing, that's the one that scares her, the idea of liking pain. She's always been a bit tender, though she's become quite stoic about it whilst travelling. The bruises on her hips, some from Mark and some from Vin, are different. More reminders of fantastic sex than anything else. When she leans against the counter and the soreness flares up, it feels oddly good.
"That's a lot to think about, especially the discipline and the sadomasochism." At least he's not cooking now, and she can lean close into him. "My native guides will have to help quite a bit."
"The books'll help too," Mark says, slipping an arm around her waist and kissing the top of her head. "Be good for you, the independent research thing. You might find something that interests you that Vin and I wouldn't think of, or questions to ask that you might not've come up with on your own."
Miranda moves in close to him, wanting the reassurance of his presence. She slides an arm inside his robe and strokes his shoulder, moulding her hand around his nice muscles. "I have some, bloody hell, I have dozens of questions, but it's hard to know how to ask."
While Mark finishes cooking, Miranda sets the table the way it was last night. In the pantry, she finds Normandy butter, organic cherry preserves, and amber Canadian maple syrup, some of her favourite things. That has to be a good omen. "Should I wake Vin? Or let him sleep?"
Mark glances speculatively back towards the bedroom and says, "Go ahead and wake him if you don't mind. I hate to make a big breakfast and let him miss it."
Miranda sees that glance, but, in for a penny, in for a pound, she's determined to give this a good go. In the bedroom, Vin's still asleep, looking much less intimidating than usual. He is so big, his arms so massive, that she still feels dwarfed by him. After all that time in Central Asia, being the tallest person for hundreds of klicks around, she's not used to it, but it makes it easier to let herself be ordered around by him. Or carried around -- last night was fun: silly, sexy and easy.
How to wake him up in a good way? Something not too intense, but she'd like to make him wake up with a smile on his face. She leaves the robe on but unties the sash, and slides into the big bed behind him. Rubbing his neck and shoulders gently at first, she gradually starts pushing a little harder, massaging his muscles and getting to know his body.
"Mmmm," Vin mumbles. The hands moving over him are too gentle to be Mark's, but it takes Vin a moment before he figures out who it is. "Miranda?" he asks, not rolling over.
"G'morning," Miranda answers, not stopping. She's leaning into him now, trying to get leverage. He's so big, she has to push hard to make any impression. She switches to accupressure, using her fingers to work at the knots under his muscles. His body feels good, it's nice to touch without all the sexual tension. Though now that she thinks of it, she'd like to lick his skin and feel all those muscles under her mouth...
"Oh now that's good," he says, stretching a little and then relaxing again. "You've got a great touch; you've studied acupressure?"
"Ta, I've done a bit. One of my best holidays at home was when my mum took a class and I got to be her practice body." Miranda shifts position, finds another knot and leans her weight on it, carefully. After a minute, she says, "We should go to breakfast soon, Mark's made a feast and I think he might pout if we let it get cold."
"God, have you seen Mark pout?" Vin says with a mock groan. "It's fucking lethal. Last I heard his pout was banned in 20 different countries." He rolls over and looks at Miranda. "You look good," he says. "How are you looking so good this early?"
Vin's got her giggling like a schoolgirl. He's looking rather edible himself, but Mark really will slaughter them if they get distracted. She puts on a straight face, and answers, "Years of practice, on the road."
"Yeah and you don't even have to shave your head," he says, trying to keep a straight face. "Saves whole minutes of time." Leaning forward, he kisses her lightly and then moves to get out of bed. "We'd better not risk The Pout."
Miranda laughs at him, then savours the kiss. "Girl-stuff takes longer, I'm a model of speed," she says, scooting off the bed and tying her robe. Vin's even sweeter this morning, and she's more comfortable with him. This relationship-thing might work out.
Mark's on the verge of calling back to the bedroom when he hears Vin getting up, and a moment later he's tossing them a grin as they come into the room. He's just getting the last of breakfast on the table. "Just in time," he says. "I'd hate to have to eat all this myself."
"We'll save you from that awful fate," Miranda says, smiling. "It looks really good, and I'm ravenous!" She supposes she should sit in the same place as last night, but hesitates, just in case they have another plan.
"Excellent," Mark says, setting down the platter he's holding so he can wrap an arm around Vin's waist, and he gives him a quick kiss. "Sleep okay, lover?"
"Fan-fucking-tasically," Vin says, pulling Mark closer for a much more thorough kiss. "Woke up pretty damn well too," he says when he finally releases Mark. "Miranda has at least one hidden talent."
"Oh, yeah...?" Mark says, turning towards Miranda. "Y'know I'm not a bit surprised. I'll bet she has a lot of hidden talents." Then he grins and gives Vin another quick kiss, untangling himself and heading for his chair. "But we are not getting sidetracked from mine and Mir's amazing breakfast-making achievements. Sit your butts down and appreciate all this hard work."
"I'm appreciating already," Vin says sitting down. "See me appreciate." He winks at Miranda.
They're fun to watch, taking the piss like that. Miranda winks back at Vin, and slides into the same chair as before. She takes a bit of everything, to be polite. But food is the last thing on her mind: she eats mechanically while watching the two of them and thinking about, well, sex.
"So we were talking while you slugged around in bed," Mark says to Vin with a quick glance at Miranda. "Mir's going to borrow some of our books about BDSM. I thought it'd help her figure out how to ask some of the questions that she doesn't know how to ask yet."
"Sounds like a good idea," Vin says, after a long drink of coffee. "You'll learn that he thinks better in the morning than I do," he adds with a smile at Miranda. "I'm as far from a morning person as you can get."
Miranda's quiet for a bit, thinking about the whole BDSM thing. If she's going to do it, she is determined to do it properly. "The talking, I'm beginning to understand, I think. Last night, if I'd said? If we'd talked more... I was quite frightened, at the end, with the spanking. Though just the idea." She knows she's blushing like a virgin but, in some ways, that's quite appropriate.
"Frightened?" Mark says, taking a sip of his coffee. "Can you say more about that?" he asks, "or about what you were feeling?"
It seems so odd to be talking about sex, much less kinky sex, in this sunlit room with its open view of city and bay. All the people out there hurrying to work, and Miranda's lounging here, palms damp, trying to explain herself to these blokes when all she wants to do is jump on them and burrow in close. And have them magically understand her every desire. "That's not going to happen," she tells herself, firmly.
She looks at Vin, "Last night, I didn't know, couldn't tell how far you would go. I was a bit worried..." She can't quite explain how much of a muddle she was in, still is in.
"Worried? All you have to do is tell me to stop," Vin says. "I always will, I can promise you that."
"Thank you," Miranda answers, a bit fervently. Just hearing him say it will help, she hopes she'll remember it next time. "It's hard to tell, what I really want, I just don't know..." She shifts uncomfortably in her chair and drinks a bit of juice. The two of them are such genuinely nice blokes, and it's terribly thrilling to think of the things they might do to her. She asks, "What do you? Where's a good place to start?"
"Well, we've already sort of started," Mark says, tucking into his eggs. "We know that spanking's a good, right? And being hand-fed, and maybe roughed around just a tiny bit, as long as it's not too rough or too sudden. A lot of where we start depends on what sounds good to you, and I think reading some of the books we'll lend you will help with that, sort of give you an idea what kinds of things other people enjoy."
Finishing a bite, Vin nods. "And there are fantasies," he says. "Taking into account that just because you daydream about a thing doesn't mean you want it to happen, what's the one thing that's guaranteed to work when you're jerking ... masturbating." He laughs a little. "Sorry for the gender specific term there."
Gnawing at a fingernail as she listens to them matter-of-factly discussing the kinky things she likes, Miranda tries to stay calm. She says, "Yes, all right, sounds fine," and then the words seem to burst out by themselves, "erm, fantasies like... like those cuffs, and being ordered about? Being a harem girl or captured by pirates?" She blushes, pink all over, because she's never said any of those things out loud before.
"Yeah, that kind of thing," Mark says, nodding, and there's a bit of a grin breaking through at the idea of dressing Miranda up in one of those billowy dresses with the corset and then ripping it off her again. "And you know, those could be good, too, 'cause they're -- you can sort of script them, almost. You know, talk 'em out beforehand and figure out, 'are these rough, nasty pirates, or pirates with hearts of gold, do they want to ravish her or tame her or what?' and maybe it's easier to talk about it 'cause it's a role you're playing."
Miranda likes the way Mark's looking at her, as though he wants to ravish her right away. Vin's eyes are on her too, she wants to preen and slide her robe down over her shoulder. They are devastatingly sexy, especially together, and she has no desire to resist. She says, "It is easier to play at this stuff, for a bit at least. That would make it less, threatening, I guess." A drink of water helps her throat, and she continues, "Could we try it both ways? Nice pirates and rough nasty ones? Because, it's hard for me to admit, but the rough ones sound exciting." Her voice goes low at the end, and she tries not to wriggle at those images.
"Oh, the rough pirates are best," Mark says, nodding sagely. "The rough pirates do things like keep you tied to the bed and take turns ravishing you, and see how many times they can make you come before you start begging for it to stop. They deliver the best spankings to feisty wenches, too, and don't have a problem with things like gags and blindfolds and keeping you naked all the time."
As he talks, Miranda blushes till she burns, and finally covers her face with her hands, saying, "Oh God, fuck, Mark! " She curls up in her chair, and then peeks out at them not-quite laughing at her. She manages to say, "All of those things are so hot and scary." Her heart is pounding, palms damp and breathing shallow -- it's that fight-or-flight thing. She swallows to calm down, and suddenly it's all right. "Um, do I have to bring my own rum?" she asks, smiling crookedly.
"Of course not," Mark answers, mock-offended. "Good pirates provide everything necessary for a debauching."
Miranda's body is hot, a bit damp with sweat, slick in the groin from excitement, and she's ready to find out what happens next. "Then," she says, voice slightly quavering, "Why am I all alone over here?" She lifts her chin defiantly, but she's made her choice.
"Because my first mate hasn't brought you in for ravishing yet," Vin says with a big leer. "We badass pirate captains like to sit back and let other people make the initial effort of capturing wenches and hauling them around."
"Oh aye, and I must be the first mate, then," Mark laughs, bumping the table as he gets up and comes around behind Miranda, running his fingers into her hair and gripping lightly. "And you," he says in his worst Cockney accent and giving her a little shake, "best make a good impression on the cap'n 'ere, if you value your saucy wench hide."
Wriggling a little, Miranda leans into Mark's grasp. "Strewth, I'll try to be good," she says, smiling despite herself. They make her feel safe enough to spread her wings. "But I might need, a little, erm, training." As if she hadn't blushed enough through the morning. But at least she gets to be flirty now, and look up from under her lashes at them, and make sure her robe is falling around down her shoulders.
"Wench training," Mark grins, "that sounds like a right pleasant pastime, as long as the wench isn't too much of a spitfire, although," he adds, dipping low to breathe into her ear, "a disobedient wench can bring a man pleasures of a different kind...."
That is a bit too much for Miranda, with the size of Mark and especially of Vin. She feels fragile, next to them. Breakable. "I'll be good," she says, shakily, "I'll do whatever you say." She leans into Mark's hand, wanting his touch, and lifts her arms to pull him in for a kiss.
Mark kisses Miranda hungrily, sliding one hand inside her bathrobe to skim over her stomach, and then he grins into the kiss and gives a thoughtful tug to the belt that holds her robe closed. "Look, Captain," he says, shooting Vin a smile. "The wench comes with her own rope. Want I should tie her up?"
"By all means," Vin says with a leer at Miranda. "Can't have a pretty bit like that getting out of our clutches, now can we?"
Wriggling in Mark's grip, Miranda squeals a little and realises she wants it. Wants them to tie her up and play with her. Would beg, if they stopped. "I promise, I'll be good," she repeats, hardly knowing how to explain that she's feeling incredibly randy. She bends forward a bit to let Mark pull the sash out from the robe, and wriggles some more. She keeps her arms around him and licks his neck. He tastes lovely: skin and sex and a little sweat.
"Oh you'll be good," Vin growls, finally getting out of his chair and moving behind Miranda. "You'll be very good or you'll be taking a long walk off a very short plank." He winks at Mark over Miranda's head, guessing that this is probably amusing Mark just a little.
Mark laughs, not bothering to get the robe off her before he pulls her arms away and loops the belt around her wrists in front of her, tying it off into nice slipknot that he can release in a second but that won't tug loose by accident. Then he's pulling her to her feet, her robe falling open and slipping down her shoulders, her body slim as a whisper and fair against the white terrycloth, and he's got a hand in her hair and one on her bound wrists, and he turns her to face Vin, breath whispering over her ear as he growls softly, "Captain, we've a pretty new toy to play with, a tasty little sweetmeat to enjoy."
"Tasty indeed, Mr. Lutz," Vin says, reaching up to fondle one of Miranda's breasts, his fingers tugging hard at the nipple. "What do you say we take her off to my cabin and have some sport?"
"Ohhhhh," Miranda breathes, inarticulate and weak at the knees. Mark's hand in her hair and Vin's on her breast send shocks of lust through her body. "Play with me," she says, savouring the idea. All her doubts are gone and she's feeling wanton, desperate for their touch. "Oh, God," the fantasy and the reality are merging to make her so randy she might explode at any moment.
"Aye, Captain, I think that's a fine idea," Mark says with a grinning leer, and wraps his arm around Miranda's waist, picking her up and nuzzling a bite to her throat as he starts towards the bedroom.
Last night, Miranda pretended to fight. This time, she'll not deny how much she likes being swept off her feet. She snuggles into Mark's arms, holding his shoulders and tipping her head back to offer her neck. Like a submissive animal, to one higher in the pack. She's never thought about how simple it might be, to be know her place and be content. Far easier, in many ways, than to make her way alone as she has been. Though perhaps because she hadn't met the right bloke. Blokes.
Mark grins, and tosses Miranda onto the bed, then lets his gaze rake over her body, openly lascivious. The robe is no more than a frame for her nakedness now, white terry on fair skin, and Mark licks his lips. "Would the Captain like the first taste?" he asks, "or shall I test out the goods for you, sir?"
"I think I'll be tryin' her first," Vin says, leering at Miranda. "You can be holdin' her down for me, Mr. Lutz." It's not easy to keep from laughing at his own exaggerated pirate accent, but somehow Vin manages, although his lips quiver just a little.
Mark concentrates on Miranda, trying not to break out laughing. "Come on, then, wench," he says, putting a bit of a snarl in his voice, and he stalks over to the bed and grabs her arms, pulling her back and pinning her wrists against the pillows. He grins down at her, then glances at Vin. "She won't be going anywhere, Cap'n -- you've got my word as a pirate."
It's hard to be scared when they're both acting so terribly silly. Miranda squeaks and squirms, pulling futilely against Mark's hands. They're lovely big capable hands, and she can't wait to have them on her body. She kicks at the bed a little, and turns this way and that, arching her back so her chest and bum will look nice for them. "Oh, please," she moans, and they must know that she's truly asking for more, needing them to stop talking and shag her through the bed, already.
"She's a randy little thing, in't she, Captain?" Mark says with a laugh. "Looked so proper in her pretty dress, but get her down and she'll squirm and mew like a cat." He reaches down to cup Miranda's breast, capturing her nipple between thumb and forefinger and tweaking it sharply, twisting it, pulling. "See if you can make her howl, Captain," he says, grinning down at Miranda.
"Oh no!" Miranda protests, but not too loud. It should hurt, but it doesn't, instead, it sends a spike of heat through her. She pulls a bit where Mark has her pinned, and pushes her chest up, wanting that big hand on her whole breast, not just her nipple. She wonders what Vin will do, and that makes her squirm some more.
"Hold her down for me," Vin says, slipping out of his robe. He reaches for a condom off the nightstand and rolls it on quickly, his eyes never leaving Miranda. "I think between the two of us we can really get her to yell." He slides his hand up Miranda's thigh, pinching once he gets close to her pussy.
Miranda watches Vin prepare himself while she's wonderfully helpless, mad with lust. Strewth, she has never felt like this before. His hand, heavy on her leg, makes her gasp -- his pinch is like Mark touching her nipple, shockingly good. It shatters her ideas of foreplay into a hundred shards. Her eyes close, it's just too much to see, as she spreads her legs and waits for Vin to fuck her.
Reaching up a little, Vin grabs Miranda's hips and pushes into her with one hard thrust. "Little slut's wet for it," he growls, looking at Mark. "Such an eager strumpet, aren't you girlie?" he adds, grinning lecherously down at Miranda.
The nasty sexy talk spills across Miranda as just another sensation, along with Vin's cock and Mark's hands and the fabric around her wrist. "Oh, please, oh so good," she says, in the dark behind her eyelids. She pushes her chest up into Mark's touch and her pussy down onto Vin's cock, and it feels so primal and hot that she moans.
"Such a pretty, wanton little hussy," Mark growls, twisting her nipple sharply, tugging it up and letting it drop again before cupping her breast and squeezing. "Open your eyes and ask for it, girl," he says. "Beg him for what you want."
Miranda moans at Mark's rough caress and his words. She angles herself so Vin's cock is rubbing her clit and it's perfect. Their attention feels like the heat of a desert sun, and she's burning up. Mark's command confuses her at first, but she looks at him and can see both lust and amusement in his face. "It's so good," she says, looking down to catch the same mix on Vin. "Please, don't stop," she wriggles to underline her point. "It's fantastic, it's so good, please... kiss?" What she truly wants now is to feel Mark's mouth on hers. Or Vin's, she'd be happy either way.
Moving forward, Vin kisses her hard as he slides into her slick, hot, pussy. He bites a little at her lower lip as he begins fucking her as slowly as he can. Let's see if I can get her to beg for more of it.
Vin's mouth is fantastic, sends a spike of pleasure through Miranda, and she moans again. Fucking him is like slow dancing, and she can't get enough. "God, yeah," she says, "more, please, don't stop...."
"Fucking gorgeous," Mark breathes, then growls softly, "Do 'er, Cap'n, randy little wench needs it even worse'n I do."
Miranda moans at Mark's words. She twists her hands around in his hold, and pulls at his arms, needing him nearer, wanting him to be part of this. Some time, she'll have Vin to herself, and that thought makes her shiver too. But now, Mark's here, and she yearns for him and Vin both. "Fuck yeah, so good..." she says, looking at Mark, wanting him to know how much it matters that he's there.
She arches into Vin, then grinds down and wraps her legs around him, angling up and around his back. She's panting and hot, slick with sweat as Vin pushes into her as though she was made for him. "Oh God," she can feel herself falling into his rhythm, and it's so good she can barely breathe.
"God," Vin groans, as Miranda clings to him. "Such a greedy wench you are, girl. So hot for it." She feels incredible beneath him and he grins up at Mark. "You know how to find the right kind of wench, Lutz."
Keeping his balance with one hand on the bed, he reaches up with his other and grabs the back of Mark's neck, pulling his lover in for a kiss.
Mark growls into Vin's mouth, pinching Miranda's nipple again as he loses himself in this, in the heat of the girl beneath them and the power in his lover's body. "Glad the captain approves," he grins, breathless, and bites at Vin's mouth, kissing him hard.
The gorgeous fucking and the nasty sexy talk are too much. Miranda can't speak, she can't think, she can't do anything but explode beneath them, clutching with her hands and legs.
Although it's not easy to keep with the pirate talk when you have a beautiful woman orgasming underneath you, the whole thing appeals to Vin's sense of the absurd. "Yar, lookit the randy wench." He goes still, leaving his cock buried in Miranda and looks at Mark. "Will ye be wantin' a piece o' this?"
"Oh, aye, Captain," Mark growls, watching Miranda's face. "Bloody pirate, ain't I? Not a fool."
Pulling out, Vin strips off the condom quickly and then reaches down and grips Miranda's upper arm firmly. "We share things lassie, Mark and meself. And we like to share a hot wench like you." He moves to the side, making room for Mark.
"Oh," Miranda says faintly, but she's not upset, just a bit surprised. She came deep and hard, but hadn't thought about what would come next. Mark though. Mark's so bloody sexy, it makes her moan to think of it. When she gets her breath back, she looks at both of them, big sexy men, and realises how much she likes this. She remembers the game, and says, as seductively as she can, "Aye aye, Captain, I'll do whatever you say."
Mark grins and wastes no time in taking Vin's place between Miranda's thighs, grabbing a condom on the way and shrugging out of his robe, slicking the latex on quickly. Watching Vin with Miranda has kept him on the edge of a hot arousal, and he braces his arms on either side of her and drives in with a low groan.
It's good, bloody good, to have Mark inside her, the weight of him grounding her. Miranda closes her eyes and lets herself sink into Mark's rhythm. She feels fantastic, sexual, powerful in the pleasure she offers them. She lifts her legs across Mark's back and groans with him at the change in pressure and angle.
Miranda's body clenches around him and Mark growls softly, slamming into her hard and reaching for Vin, dragging him into a hard, open-mouthed kiss.
After kissing Mark back hard, Vin pulls away. "Yer having yer fun, and the wench is havin' hers, but what about the Captain here?" he asks, grabbing the lube off the nightstand. "I think I need a piece o' that fine ass of yours, mate."
Moaning, eyes closed, Miranda is oblivious to everything. She pulls a hand through the belt around her wrists and slides it down, moving her legs down and around Mark's. She can just get her arm in between their bodies, and when she touches her clit, it's bloody incredible.
Mark laughs. "Aye aye, Captain," he says, grinning at Vin. "My ass is yours, 'swhat a Mate's for, innit?"
"Damn right," Vin says, slicking up his fingers before shoving two of them roughly into Mark. "Gonna fuck you right into the wench," he promises.
Mark grunts sharply at the sudden burn when Vin thrusts those thick fingers into him, jerking forward into Miranda and then groaning, pushing back onto Vin again as he draws almost out of her. "Fuck yes," he growls, his body opening for his lover, and slams into Miranda again, dipping down to kiss and bite at her mouth.
It takes a few moments for Miranda to notice the change in Mark. When he kisses her, she looks up to see his face unguarded and intent with pleasure. Behind him, she feels more than sees Vin's presence, pressing Mark into her. It's like being fucked by both of them at once, and she loves it. Her legs go up and round Vin's strong thighs, welcoming him in again, and her free arm around Mark, who's thrusting into her ferociously.
Mark's growling out inarticulate curses and groans against Miranda's throat, biting and sucking at the skin there as he drives into her glove-tight heat while Vin slams into him from behind. It's overwhelming to be so engulfed and so opened, and he reaches back for Vin, searching blindly for any part of him he can touch.
Grabbing Mark's hand, Vin holds it tightly as he slams into him over and over again. "Gonna fuck you right into her," he growls, dropping any attempt at talking like a pirate. "How do you like that, girl?" he demands, looking over Mark's shoulder at Miranda, who seems to be liking it quite well.
Breathing, much less answering, is a bit tricky for Miranda, buried as she is under two large male bodies, and her own arm. "'S good," she manages, before Mark thrusts in again and takes her breath away. She finds a rhythm, rubbing her clit when they pull out and letting her hand go flat when they push again. It feels fantastic, and she's close to coming again, despite the awkwardness of the position.
Mark groans, gripping Vin's hand hard and it's a rough, ragged rhythm as they drive together, sweat-slick and shaking. "God, so fucking close," he gasps, twisting around to bite at Vin and then slamming into Miranda again, faster now, he wants it, wants to feel her pussy in a hot spasm around his cock as he comes with Vin buried inside him.
"Wait," Vin demands, although he can hardly speak at this point. "Not yet .... oh fuck ... not yet..." He manages to drive into Mark a few more times before he knows he's on the edge. "Now, boy," he growls. "You too, girl."
At Vin's order Mark slams hard into Miranda and grinds deep, gasping against her throat as he comes, his cock jerking inside the glove-tight heat of her body.
Gasping, Miranda feels her fingers pushed are against her clit by Mark's thrusts, it feels bloody wonderful. But it's more the knowledge that she's fucking them both at once -- and that they're both coming in this lovely messy pile of sex -- that makes her buck and come.
"Goddamn," Vin groans, pulling back enough to collapse to the side instead of smashing Mark into Miranda. "Fucking amazing, both of you."
Laughing breathlessly, Mark topples off to the other side of Miranda, stripping off the condom with a wince and knotting it before he tosses it into the trash.
"Man," he says, grinning. "We just had breakfast and I'm already ready for a nap."
Miranda's still breathless and dry-mouthed, still quaking a bit, still shocked at what they did and how bloody much she liked it. Vin saying 'amazing' is the perfect reassurance. It's nice to be in the middle, but she needs to be held after all that. She pulls them both close, snuggling between them, saying, "God, that was... bloody wonderful."
<
Next: Part 10
Fandom: Actorslash AU
Pairing: Miranda Otto/Vin Diesel/Mark Lutz
Authors: msilverstar,telesilla, and zillah975
Rating: NC-17 (references to BDSM)
Disclaimer: Not true: we made it up
Summary: The first morning, Miranda gets to know the blokes better and overcomes certain inhibitions.
Series: Hong Kong-verse AU. Miranda's a travel writer, Mark's a photographer, and Vin owns an import/export business; they meet in Hong Kong, and Miranda gets involved in Vin and Mark's BDSM lifestyle. Series parts: 1, 1.5, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11.
Feedback: Please!
Archive: Notification required - send email to archive at msilverstar dot com.
Miranda has never woken up like this. Sharing a bed is old hat, but not being naked and tangled with two gorgeous blokes. She's feeling thoroughly rooted, in the best possible way. It's greedy, it's impossible, she knows that, but she'd happily sleep like this every night. She's fallen fast and hard into this thing -- it's not exactly love, it's some combination of lust and addiction. Desires for things she never knew about. Lucky it happened now, because these two seem so nice, though she's been fooled before.
As the sky outside gets light, Miranda determines to treat them as guides, not gods. She'll ask for books and web sites, and maybe people to talk to, though she quails at that. She does have to find out, what does being a 'girl' mean? She'll get their expert advice, as they seem to have found their equilibrium. And the two of them, they have to decide how she will fit in. Does she, well, belong to Mark? Does he belong to Vin? So many bloody questions, she's not the only one who has to do some talking.
Mark feels the change in Mir's breathing, the slow coming awake, and he shifts against her, nuzzling in and draping his arm across her waist. "G'morning," he murmurs. "How'd you sleep?"
"Good, I slept really well for someone squashed between two big blokes!" She's teasing, but it's true. No regrets, though. Miranda snuggles into Mark's hug, enjoying the closeness. His arm on her, without any prompting from him, makes her feel pinned down, in a disturbingly sexy way. She tries to ignore that feeling.
It's one of those mornings when Mark wakes up awake -- he wishes he could figure out the difference, why some mornings it's impossible to sleep in and others it's impossible to wake up, but for whatever reason, this is the former. He nudges in to kiss Miranda's throat, then sits up, scooting a bit so as not to pull the covers off either Mir or Vin. "I think," he says quietly, rubbing his face, "that I'm in the mood for a big breakfast. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, juice, coffee, all of it. You hungry?"
After all that exertion, Miranda figures she deserves a bit of a fry-up. "Sounds lovely, do you want some help?" She's awake, and ready to do something besides contemplating her life turning upside down.
"Keep me company?" Mark asks, reaching for his robe.
Miranda nods, slips out of bed, and takes the robe she wore last night. If she's going to stay here more often, she'll have to bring some more clothes over. Especially knickers, as hers seem to get a bit damp around Mark. Both parts of that idea -- the staying over and the soaking her pants -- make her shiver.
She finds the dunny and washes up a bit. Cold water on her face does help her to think more clearly. Then she puts up her hair, squares her shoulders and walks out to the kitchen to find Mark.
Mark grins at her as she comes into the kitchen. "You look cute all swallowed up in terrycloth," he says as he measures out flour. "Hey, there's juice in the fridge if you want it -- glasses up there," nodding to the cupboard, "and the coffee's brewing, should be done in," glancing at the coffeepot, "about six minutes. Make yourself at home."
"Ta," Miranda says, getting herself some juice. She asks, "But I'm a child of Empire, do you have a kettle and some tea? I'm not terribly picky, Tetley's or Lipton is fine." It's nice to be domestic like this, though she gets a funny twinge when something reminds her of that night she cooked for him half-naked.
"Oh absolutely," Mark says, stopping what he's doing to get the kettle. "There's half a dozen kinds of tea in the pantry -- take your pick, and I'll get the water on." There's English Breakfast, so Miranda picks that and looks forward to a nice hot cuppa. Clinging to familiar things, she's done that in strange places. Going back to the kitchen, she asks "How can I help? Can I start the bacon?"
"Yeah, that'd be great," Mark says. Normally he'd shush her and tell her just to sit, but she seems to need something to do, and he doesn't mind the help. "Pans are all in the lower cabinet by the stove, and the bacon should be in the right-hand meat keeper in the fridge, unless Vin moved it."
Miranda rummages around until she finds everything, and then starts to cook, chatting lightly with Mark as she does. It's nice: domestic, friendly, no orders or shedding clothes. Apparently, he doesn't want to do all that all the time, which is a relief. When the bacon is bubbling gently and her tea is steeping, she leans against him and asks "Anything else for me to do?"
"Mmmm," Mark turns and grabs a quick kiss, smiling. "Nah, just hang out, keep me company." He turns to wash the flour off his hands, then sets the batter aside to wait for the griddle to heat and reaches for the eggs. "It's nice having you here," he says. "Glad you don't mind being squashed between two big blokes," and his imitation of her accent is terrible and he shoots her a grin and a wink. "We get too heavy, a good tickle'll wake either of us up."
"It felt good," she admits. Hard to say that, because it's like the other things they did, and she's still surprised at how much she likes it when they hold her down. She sips at her tea gingerly, savouring the heat and says, "Can I get out some fruit? Balance out the meat and carbs?"
"Oh, now see that's why it's important to have a woman around," Mark says, then laughs. "Well, one of the many reasons. Yes, fruit would be excellent, and I never think of it. There's a grapefruit and a couple of oranges in the pantry, and I think some grapes in one of the crisper drawers."
Oh. Miranda knows she's analysing his every sentence like those Kremlin-watchers from the Cold War. She should stop, but it's too easy to grasp at tidbits of encouragement. "Right-oh, I'll do that then." While she automatically cuts and washes the fruit, she scolds herself for thinking that was any kind of invitation.
Oblivious to Miranda's uncertainty, Mark continues on with breakfast, pausing to get a bowl for the fruit and to give a little kiss to the back of her neck. "That's great," he says. "There's some sugar if you want it, too. I wonder if I can get strawberries this time of year -- I'll have to look when I'm at the store again. I'll bet they'd be great in there."
His ease, the little kisses, all help Miranda relax. "Sounds lovely," she says, though nothing in the world tastes like wild Alpine strawberries. "Um," it's a bit easier to talk while they're working together, "You were right, last night, we should talk. About what we want, not just me, all right?"
"That's cool," Mark says, nodding. "There's a lot we could talk about. Do you know where you want to start?"
"No," Miranda laughs, nervously. "I see why you love Vin, he's amazing." She had no idea how Vin would make her feel: small, protected, vulnerable and sexual, all at the same time. Different from Mark, less of the sweetness and good nature that makes Mark so easy to trust. More challenging, but despite, or maybe because of that, reliable in the important ways. "I really liked it, erm, being with both of you," -- strewth, that's hard to say -- "but I don't know how I fit."
Mark squelches the impulse to make a joke of it -- nicely in the middle, or comfortably snug or something. This isn't the time, not now. Especially not when Mir sometimes takes things seriously at just the wrong moment.
"Well, I guess we're all still working that out, yeah?" he says instead. "I mean it might be too early for you to even know how you want to fit," and he wipes his hands on a damp towel and leans against the counter beside her. "Maybe a good place to start would be with how Vin and I fit -- we're equals, but in a way we're not, too."
"Tell me?" Miranda says, needing very much to know more about this, but still a little apprehensive about about what she'll hear.
"Okay, you've gotta bear with me," Mark says. "And remember your Whitman -- if it seems like what I'm saying contradicts itself, just remember: people are vast, and contain multitudes."
Grabbing a few drops of water from the faucet, he turns to the griddle and splashes it, pleased to see the water bounce. He picks up the pancake batter and talks as he starts to pour. "So, we're equals, yeah? Me and Vin. Lovers, partners, we support each other, take care of each other, just like in any other relationship. But at the same time, I belong to him in a way that works for both of us. If he tells me to do something, I'm going to do it, but I also trust him not to tell me to do something that's going to cause me harm or make me genuinely unhappy."
The batter sizzles faintly on the griddle, and Mark glances towards the bedroom, hoping he's explaining things the way Vin would want them explained, and that it make sense to Miranda. "I may not always like what he tells me to do," he goes on, "but I'll love doing it for Vin." He chuckles, shaking his head. "Sometimes I really crave for him to tell me to do something I don't want to do, so that I can do it for him. Not that there's a whole lot I don't like to do," he adds with a grin. "But like, if I were just going to the theater one night I can guarantee you I wouldn't put be wearing a cock cage and a plug, but if Vin tells me to, it becomes a huge turn-on because it's evidence of his control over me and my willingness to be controlled. Does that make sense?"
Miranda's been watching Mark as he explains, trying to follow his meaning and understand how it is between them. The first part makes sense, but it gets more foreign after that. She's never seen a cock cage or a plug, but has a vague idea of what they're for, and cringes a little, thinking about that. She starts to say something but can't quite think of what. Mark certainly obeyed Vin last night, on his knees and sucking cock, so that's the starting place. It's so strange to think of a man, and Mark is quite a man, being the submissive one.
"Does it carry over?" She's not making sense, she can tell. "How much does it affect the rest, outside of the sex? Does he run your life, too?"
"He could, if he wanted to," Mark says, raising the edge of a pancake and then turning it. "But no, that part is pretty much like anyone else's relationship, talking things out and deciding together. We've been pretty lucky, I guess, in that we've not had any huge disagreements over what to do. Both our careers are so flexible it's not like either of us has been confronted with having to move for the other or something."
Miranda can feel what it means to let someone else have control, to enjoy obeying. It sizzles in her like the bacon on the stove. Even right this instant, if Mark or Vin were to order her to do something -- take off the robe, kneel down before them, even fuck them right now -- she'd likely do it. It's still a shock, to feel that in herself. She asks, "What about when you don't want to, when you are sick or busy or just don't feel like it?" She's asking about them, but also about what they want from her.
Mark chuckles. "When I'm sick, I'm lucky if he lets me do anything for myself, much less him," he says. "If I sincerely don't have time -- like, can't do it -- he doesn't ask me to. At least not that I remember him ever doing. But if I'm just busy or not in the mood, I might push back a little to see if he really means it, and if he does, I'll do it." He shoots her a grin and a wink and adds, "And usually by the time we're halfway into it, I'm remembering why I let him. But y'know this is just us," he goes on, turning back to the pancakes. "This is what works for me and him. It's not the only way to do it -- far from it. I think there are as many ways to do it as people doing it."
That's enormously reassuring, that it's not all about force and pressure. "I need to read up on it," Miranda says, "do you have any books or web sites? I don't even know the right words." It's still odd, the idea of giving up her independence in any way, because it's been such a long battle to get anyone to take her seriously.
"Mmm, absolutely," Mark says. "I've got a veritable lending library on the stuff -- I'll grab some books for you after breakfast, sort of 'intro to kink' books. One of 'em's even called S&M 101," he says with a grin, adding a pancake to the slowly growing stack.
"Is what you do 'S&M'?" It sounds very painful, more than a little spanking. Though the paddle might qualify. Miranda takes a breath to calm down from that thought.
"Some of it," Mark says. "What we usually call it is BDSM, which is soft of a blanket term," and he pauses to tick them off on his fingers: "Bondage and discipline, dominance and submission, and sadomasochism. They don't always break out into neat pairs like that, but it's a good shorthand for starting to talk about it."
Miranda thinks about that, while Mark works on the eggs and the pancakes. Bondage is all right, but discipline, that's weirder. That must have been what Mark was on about the night she made dinner, when he got mad cos she couldn't control herself, and he punished her.
Dominance and submission are what he's just been talking about, the control thing, wearing cages and plugs. It's not just that. When Mark offered her mouth to Vin the first time, and then later Vin pulled her hair and gave her to Mark, that felt so sexy, so right somehow. She wants them to run the show, and to obey them.
And the S&M thing, that's the one that scares her, the idea of liking pain. She's always been a bit tender, though she's become quite stoic about it whilst travelling. The bruises on her hips, some from Mark and some from Vin, are different. More reminders of fantastic sex than anything else. When she leans against the counter and the soreness flares up, it feels oddly good.
"That's a lot to think about, especially the discipline and the sadomasochism." At least he's not cooking now, and she can lean close into him. "My native guides will have to help quite a bit."
"The books'll help too," Mark says, slipping an arm around her waist and kissing the top of her head. "Be good for you, the independent research thing. You might find something that interests you that Vin and I wouldn't think of, or questions to ask that you might not've come up with on your own."
Miranda moves in close to him, wanting the reassurance of his presence. She slides an arm inside his robe and strokes his shoulder, moulding her hand around his nice muscles. "I have some, bloody hell, I have dozens of questions, but it's hard to know how to ask."
While Mark finishes cooking, Miranda sets the table the way it was last night. In the pantry, she finds Normandy butter, organic cherry preserves, and amber Canadian maple syrup, some of her favourite things. That has to be a good omen. "Should I wake Vin? Or let him sleep?"
Mark glances speculatively back towards the bedroom and says, "Go ahead and wake him if you don't mind. I hate to make a big breakfast and let him miss it."
Miranda sees that glance, but, in for a penny, in for a pound, she's determined to give this a good go. In the bedroom, Vin's still asleep, looking much less intimidating than usual. He is so big, his arms so massive, that she still feels dwarfed by him. After all that time in Central Asia, being the tallest person for hundreds of klicks around, she's not used to it, but it makes it easier to let herself be ordered around by him. Or carried around -- last night was fun: silly, sexy and easy.
How to wake him up in a good way? Something not too intense, but she'd like to make him wake up with a smile on his face. She leaves the robe on but unties the sash, and slides into the big bed behind him. Rubbing his neck and shoulders gently at first, she gradually starts pushing a little harder, massaging his muscles and getting to know his body.
"Mmmm," Vin mumbles. The hands moving over him are too gentle to be Mark's, but it takes Vin a moment before he figures out who it is. "Miranda?" he asks, not rolling over.
"G'morning," Miranda answers, not stopping. She's leaning into him now, trying to get leverage. He's so big, she has to push hard to make any impression. She switches to accupressure, using her fingers to work at the knots under his muscles. His body feels good, it's nice to touch without all the sexual tension. Though now that she thinks of it, she'd like to lick his skin and feel all those muscles under her mouth...
"Oh now that's good," he says, stretching a little and then relaxing again. "You've got a great touch; you've studied acupressure?"
"Ta, I've done a bit. One of my best holidays at home was when my mum took a class and I got to be her practice body." Miranda shifts position, finds another knot and leans her weight on it, carefully. After a minute, she says, "We should go to breakfast soon, Mark's made a feast and I think he might pout if we let it get cold."
"God, have you seen Mark pout?" Vin says with a mock groan. "It's fucking lethal. Last I heard his pout was banned in 20 different countries." He rolls over and looks at Miranda. "You look good," he says. "How are you looking so good this early?"
Vin's got her giggling like a schoolgirl. He's looking rather edible himself, but Mark really will slaughter them if they get distracted. She puts on a straight face, and answers, "Years of practice, on the road."
"Yeah and you don't even have to shave your head," he says, trying to keep a straight face. "Saves whole minutes of time." Leaning forward, he kisses her lightly and then moves to get out of bed. "We'd better not risk The Pout."
Miranda laughs at him, then savours the kiss. "Girl-stuff takes longer, I'm a model of speed," she says, scooting off the bed and tying her robe. Vin's even sweeter this morning, and she's more comfortable with him. This relationship-thing might work out.
Mark's on the verge of calling back to the bedroom when he hears Vin getting up, and a moment later he's tossing them a grin as they come into the room. He's just getting the last of breakfast on the table. "Just in time," he says. "I'd hate to have to eat all this myself."
"We'll save you from that awful fate," Miranda says, smiling. "It looks really good, and I'm ravenous!" She supposes she should sit in the same place as last night, but hesitates, just in case they have another plan.
"Excellent," Mark says, setting down the platter he's holding so he can wrap an arm around Vin's waist, and he gives him a quick kiss. "Sleep okay, lover?"
"Fan-fucking-tasically," Vin says, pulling Mark closer for a much more thorough kiss. "Woke up pretty damn well too," he says when he finally releases Mark. "Miranda has at least one hidden talent."
"Oh, yeah...?" Mark says, turning towards Miranda. "Y'know I'm not a bit surprised. I'll bet she has a lot of hidden talents." Then he grins and gives Vin another quick kiss, untangling himself and heading for his chair. "But we are not getting sidetracked from mine and Mir's amazing breakfast-making achievements. Sit your butts down and appreciate all this hard work."
"I'm appreciating already," Vin says sitting down. "See me appreciate." He winks at Miranda.
They're fun to watch, taking the piss like that. Miranda winks back at Vin, and slides into the same chair as before. She takes a bit of everything, to be polite. But food is the last thing on her mind: she eats mechanically while watching the two of them and thinking about, well, sex.
"So we were talking while you slugged around in bed," Mark says to Vin with a quick glance at Miranda. "Mir's going to borrow some of our books about BDSM. I thought it'd help her figure out how to ask some of the questions that she doesn't know how to ask yet."
"Sounds like a good idea," Vin says, after a long drink of coffee. "You'll learn that he thinks better in the morning than I do," he adds with a smile at Miranda. "I'm as far from a morning person as you can get."
Miranda's quiet for a bit, thinking about the whole BDSM thing. If she's going to do it, she is determined to do it properly. "The talking, I'm beginning to understand, I think. Last night, if I'd said? If we'd talked more... I was quite frightened, at the end, with the spanking. Though just the idea." She knows she's blushing like a virgin but, in some ways, that's quite appropriate.
"Frightened?" Mark says, taking a sip of his coffee. "Can you say more about that?" he asks, "or about what you were feeling?"
It seems so odd to be talking about sex, much less kinky sex, in this sunlit room with its open view of city and bay. All the people out there hurrying to work, and Miranda's lounging here, palms damp, trying to explain herself to these blokes when all she wants to do is jump on them and burrow in close. And have them magically understand her every desire. "That's not going to happen," she tells herself, firmly.
She looks at Vin, "Last night, I didn't know, couldn't tell how far you would go. I was a bit worried..." She can't quite explain how much of a muddle she was in, still is in.
"Worried? All you have to do is tell me to stop," Vin says. "I always will, I can promise you that."
"Thank you," Miranda answers, a bit fervently. Just hearing him say it will help, she hopes she'll remember it next time. "It's hard to tell, what I really want, I just don't know..." She shifts uncomfortably in her chair and drinks a bit of juice. The two of them are such genuinely nice blokes, and it's terribly thrilling to think of the things they might do to her. She asks, "What do you? Where's a good place to start?"
"Well, we've already sort of started," Mark says, tucking into his eggs. "We know that spanking's a good, right? And being hand-fed, and maybe roughed around just a tiny bit, as long as it's not too rough or too sudden. A lot of where we start depends on what sounds good to you, and I think reading some of the books we'll lend you will help with that, sort of give you an idea what kinds of things other people enjoy."
Finishing a bite, Vin nods. "And there are fantasies," he says. "Taking into account that just because you daydream about a thing doesn't mean you want it to happen, what's the one thing that's guaranteed to work when you're jerking ... masturbating." He laughs a little. "Sorry for the gender specific term there."
Gnawing at a fingernail as she listens to them matter-of-factly discussing the kinky things she likes, Miranda tries to stay calm. She says, "Yes, all right, sounds fine," and then the words seem to burst out by themselves, "erm, fantasies like... like those cuffs, and being ordered about? Being a harem girl or captured by pirates?" She blushes, pink all over, because she's never said any of those things out loud before.
"Yeah, that kind of thing," Mark says, nodding, and there's a bit of a grin breaking through at the idea of dressing Miranda up in one of those billowy dresses with the corset and then ripping it off her again. "And you know, those could be good, too, 'cause they're -- you can sort of script them, almost. You know, talk 'em out beforehand and figure out, 'are these rough, nasty pirates, or pirates with hearts of gold, do they want to ravish her or tame her or what?' and maybe it's easier to talk about it 'cause it's a role you're playing."
Miranda likes the way Mark's looking at her, as though he wants to ravish her right away. Vin's eyes are on her too, she wants to preen and slide her robe down over her shoulder. They are devastatingly sexy, especially together, and she has no desire to resist. She says, "It is easier to play at this stuff, for a bit at least. That would make it less, threatening, I guess." A drink of water helps her throat, and she continues, "Could we try it both ways? Nice pirates and rough nasty ones? Because, it's hard for me to admit, but the rough ones sound exciting." Her voice goes low at the end, and she tries not to wriggle at those images.
"Oh, the rough pirates are best," Mark says, nodding sagely. "The rough pirates do things like keep you tied to the bed and take turns ravishing you, and see how many times they can make you come before you start begging for it to stop. They deliver the best spankings to feisty wenches, too, and don't have a problem with things like gags and blindfolds and keeping you naked all the time."
As he talks, Miranda blushes till she burns, and finally covers her face with her hands, saying, "Oh God, fuck, Mark! " She curls up in her chair, and then peeks out at them not-quite laughing at her. She manages to say, "All of those things are so hot and scary." Her heart is pounding, palms damp and breathing shallow -- it's that fight-or-flight thing. She swallows to calm down, and suddenly it's all right. "Um, do I have to bring my own rum?" she asks, smiling crookedly.
"Of course not," Mark answers, mock-offended. "Good pirates provide everything necessary for a debauching."
Miranda's body is hot, a bit damp with sweat, slick in the groin from excitement, and she's ready to find out what happens next. "Then," she says, voice slightly quavering, "Why am I all alone over here?" She lifts her chin defiantly, but she's made her choice.
"Because my first mate hasn't brought you in for ravishing yet," Vin says with a big leer. "We badass pirate captains like to sit back and let other people make the initial effort of capturing wenches and hauling them around."
"Oh aye, and I must be the first mate, then," Mark laughs, bumping the table as he gets up and comes around behind Miranda, running his fingers into her hair and gripping lightly. "And you," he says in his worst Cockney accent and giving her a little shake, "best make a good impression on the cap'n 'ere, if you value your saucy wench hide."
Wriggling a little, Miranda leans into Mark's grasp. "Strewth, I'll try to be good," she says, smiling despite herself. They make her feel safe enough to spread her wings. "But I might need, a little, erm, training." As if she hadn't blushed enough through the morning. But at least she gets to be flirty now, and look up from under her lashes at them, and make sure her robe is falling around down her shoulders.
"Wench training," Mark grins, "that sounds like a right pleasant pastime, as long as the wench isn't too much of a spitfire, although," he adds, dipping low to breathe into her ear, "a disobedient wench can bring a man pleasures of a different kind...."
That is a bit too much for Miranda, with the size of Mark and especially of Vin. She feels fragile, next to them. Breakable. "I'll be good," she says, shakily, "I'll do whatever you say." She leans into Mark's hand, wanting his touch, and lifts her arms to pull him in for a kiss.
Mark kisses Miranda hungrily, sliding one hand inside her bathrobe to skim over her stomach, and then he grins into the kiss and gives a thoughtful tug to the belt that holds her robe closed. "Look, Captain," he says, shooting Vin a smile. "The wench comes with her own rope. Want I should tie her up?"
"By all means," Vin says with a leer at Miranda. "Can't have a pretty bit like that getting out of our clutches, now can we?"
Wriggling in Mark's grip, Miranda squeals a little and realises she wants it. Wants them to tie her up and play with her. Would beg, if they stopped. "I promise, I'll be good," she repeats, hardly knowing how to explain that she's feeling incredibly randy. She bends forward a bit to let Mark pull the sash out from the robe, and wriggles some more. She keeps her arms around him and licks his neck. He tastes lovely: skin and sex and a little sweat.
"Oh you'll be good," Vin growls, finally getting out of his chair and moving behind Miranda. "You'll be very good or you'll be taking a long walk off a very short plank." He winks at Mark over Miranda's head, guessing that this is probably amusing Mark just a little.
Mark laughs, not bothering to get the robe off her before he pulls her arms away and loops the belt around her wrists in front of her, tying it off into nice slipknot that he can release in a second but that won't tug loose by accident. Then he's pulling her to her feet, her robe falling open and slipping down her shoulders, her body slim as a whisper and fair against the white terrycloth, and he's got a hand in her hair and one on her bound wrists, and he turns her to face Vin, breath whispering over her ear as he growls softly, "Captain, we've a pretty new toy to play with, a tasty little sweetmeat to enjoy."
"Tasty indeed, Mr. Lutz," Vin says, reaching up to fondle one of Miranda's breasts, his fingers tugging hard at the nipple. "What do you say we take her off to my cabin and have some sport?"
"Ohhhhh," Miranda breathes, inarticulate and weak at the knees. Mark's hand in her hair and Vin's on her breast send shocks of lust through her body. "Play with me," she says, savouring the idea. All her doubts are gone and she's feeling wanton, desperate for their touch. "Oh, God," the fantasy and the reality are merging to make her so randy she might explode at any moment.
"Aye, Captain, I think that's a fine idea," Mark says with a grinning leer, and wraps his arm around Miranda's waist, picking her up and nuzzling a bite to her throat as he starts towards the bedroom.
Last night, Miranda pretended to fight. This time, she'll not deny how much she likes being swept off her feet. She snuggles into Mark's arms, holding his shoulders and tipping her head back to offer her neck. Like a submissive animal, to one higher in the pack. She's never thought about how simple it might be, to be know her place and be content. Far easier, in many ways, than to make her way alone as she has been. Though perhaps because she hadn't met the right bloke. Blokes.
Mark grins, and tosses Miranda onto the bed, then lets his gaze rake over her body, openly lascivious. The robe is no more than a frame for her nakedness now, white terry on fair skin, and Mark licks his lips. "Would the Captain like the first taste?" he asks, "or shall I test out the goods for you, sir?"
"I think I'll be tryin' her first," Vin says, leering at Miranda. "You can be holdin' her down for me, Mr. Lutz." It's not easy to keep from laughing at his own exaggerated pirate accent, but somehow Vin manages, although his lips quiver just a little.
Mark concentrates on Miranda, trying not to break out laughing. "Come on, then, wench," he says, putting a bit of a snarl in his voice, and he stalks over to the bed and grabs her arms, pulling her back and pinning her wrists against the pillows. He grins down at her, then glances at Vin. "She won't be going anywhere, Cap'n -- you've got my word as a pirate."
It's hard to be scared when they're both acting so terribly silly. Miranda squeaks and squirms, pulling futilely against Mark's hands. They're lovely big capable hands, and she can't wait to have them on her body. She kicks at the bed a little, and turns this way and that, arching her back so her chest and bum will look nice for them. "Oh, please," she moans, and they must know that she's truly asking for more, needing them to stop talking and shag her through the bed, already.
"She's a randy little thing, in't she, Captain?" Mark says with a laugh. "Looked so proper in her pretty dress, but get her down and she'll squirm and mew like a cat." He reaches down to cup Miranda's breast, capturing her nipple between thumb and forefinger and tweaking it sharply, twisting it, pulling. "See if you can make her howl, Captain," he says, grinning down at Miranda.
"Oh no!" Miranda protests, but not too loud. It should hurt, but it doesn't, instead, it sends a spike of heat through her. She pulls a bit where Mark has her pinned, and pushes her chest up, wanting that big hand on her whole breast, not just her nipple. She wonders what Vin will do, and that makes her squirm some more.
"Hold her down for me," Vin says, slipping out of his robe. He reaches for a condom off the nightstand and rolls it on quickly, his eyes never leaving Miranda. "I think between the two of us we can really get her to yell." He slides his hand up Miranda's thigh, pinching once he gets close to her pussy.
Miranda watches Vin prepare himself while she's wonderfully helpless, mad with lust. Strewth, she has never felt like this before. His hand, heavy on her leg, makes her gasp -- his pinch is like Mark touching her nipple, shockingly good. It shatters her ideas of foreplay into a hundred shards. Her eyes close, it's just too much to see, as she spreads her legs and waits for Vin to fuck her.
Reaching up a little, Vin grabs Miranda's hips and pushes into her with one hard thrust. "Little slut's wet for it," he growls, looking at Mark. "Such an eager strumpet, aren't you girlie?" he adds, grinning lecherously down at Miranda.
The nasty sexy talk spills across Miranda as just another sensation, along with Vin's cock and Mark's hands and the fabric around her wrist. "Oh, please, oh so good," she says, in the dark behind her eyelids. She pushes her chest up into Mark's touch and her pussy down onto Vin's cock, and it feels so primal and hot that she moans.
"Such a pretty, wanton little hussy," Mark growls, twisting her nipple sharply, tugging it up and letting it drop again before cupping her breast and squeezing. "Open your eyes and ask for it, girl," he says. "Beg him for what you want."
Miranda moans at Mark's rough caress and his words. She angles herself so Vin's cock is rubbing her clit and it's perfect. Their attention feels like the heat of a desert sun, and she's burning up. Mark's command confuses her at first, but she looks at him and can see both lust and amusement in his face. "It's so good," she says, looking down to catch the same mix on Vin. "Please, don't stop," she wriggles to underline her point. "It's fantastic, it's so good, please... kiss?" What she truly wants now is to feel Mark's mouth on hers. Or Vin's, she'd be happy either way.
Moving forward, Vin kisses her hard as he slides into her slick, hot, pussy. He bites a little at her lower lip as he begins fucking her as slowly as he can. Let's see if I can get her to beg for more of it.
Vin's mouth is fantastic, sends a spike of pleasure through Miranda, and she moans again. Fucking him is like slow dancing, and she can't get enough. "God, yeah," she says, "more, please, don't stop...."
"Fucking gorgeous," Mark breathes, then growls softly, "Do 'er, Cap'n, randy little wench needs it even worse'n I do."
Miranda moans at Mark's words. She twists her hands around in his hold, and pulls at his arms, needing him nearer, wanting him to be part of this. Some time, she'll have Vin to herself, and that thought makes her shiver too. But now, Mark's here, and she yearns for him and Vin both. "Fuck yeah, so good..." she says, looking at Mark, wanting him to know how much it matters that he's there.
She arches into Vin, then grinds down and wraps her legs around him, angling up and around his back. She's panting and hot, slick with sweat as Vin pushes into her as though she was made for him. "Oh God," she can feel herself falling into his rhythm, and it's so good she can barely breathe.
"God," Vin groans, as Miranda clings to him. "Such a greedy wench you are, girl. So hot for it." She feels incredible beneath him and he grins up at Mark. "You know how to find the right kind of wench, Lutz."
Keeping his balance with one hand on the bed, he reaches up with his other and grabs the back of Mark's neck, pulling his lover in for a kiss.
Mark growls into Vin's mouth, pinching Miranda's nipple again as he loses himself in this, in the heat of the girl beneath them and the power in his lover's body. "Glad the captain approves," he grins, breathless, and bites at Vin's mouth, kissing him hard.
The gorgeous fucking and the nasty sexy talk are too much. Miranda can't speak, she can't think, she can't do anything but explode beneath them, clutching with her hands and legs.
Although it's not easy to keep with the pirate talk when you have a beautiful woman orgasming underneath you, the whole thing appeals to Vin's sense of the absurd. "Yar, lookit the randy wench." He goes still, leaving his cock buried in Miranda and looks at Mark. "Will ye be wantin' a piece o' this?"
"Oh, aye, Captain," Mark growls, watching Miranda's face. "Bloody pirate, ain't I? Not a fool."
Pulling out, Vin strips off the condom quickly and then reaches down and grips Miranda's upper arm firmly. "We share things lassie, Mark and meself. And we like to share a hot wench like you." He moves to the side, making room for Mark.
"Oh," Miranda says faintly, but she's not upset, just a bit surprised. She came deep and hard, but hadn't thought about what would come next. Mark though. Mark's so bloody sexy, it makes her moan to think of it. When she gets her breath back, she looks at both of them, big sexy men, and realises how much she likes this. She remembers the game, and says, as seductively as she can, "Aye aye, Captain, I'll do whatever you say."
Mark grins and wastes no time in taking Vin's place between Miranda's thighs, grabbing a condom on the way and shrugging out of his robe, slicking the latex on quickly. Watching Vin with Miranda has kept him on the edge of a hot arousal, and he braces his arms on either side of her and drives in with a low groan.
It's good, bloody good, to have Mark inside her, the weight of him grounding her. Miranda closes her eyes and lets herself sink into Mark's rhythm. She feels fantastic, sexual, powerful in the pleasure she offers them. She lifts her legs across Mark's back and groans with him at the change in pressure and angle.
Miranda's body clenches around him and Mark growls softly, slamming into her hard and reaching for Vin, dragging him into a hard, open-mouthed kiss.
After kissing Mark back hard, Vin pulls away. "Yer having yer fun, and the wench is havin' hers, but what about the Captain here?" he asks, grabbing the lube off the nightstand. "I think I need a piece o' that fine ass of yours, mate."
Moaning, eyes closed, Miranda is oblivious to everything. She pulls a hand through the belt around her wrists and slides it down, moving her legs down and around Mark's. She can just get her arm in between their bodies, and when she touches her clit, it's bloody incredible.
Mark laughs. "Aye aye, Captain," he says, grinning at Vin. "My ass is yours, 'swhat a Mate's for, innit?"
"Damn right," Vin says, slicking up his fingers before shoving two of them roughly into Mark. "Gonna fuck you right into the wench," he promises.
Mark grunts sharply at the sudden burn when Vin thrusts those thick fingers into him, jerking forward into Miranda and then groaning, pushing back onto Vin again as he draws almost out of her. "Fuck yes," he growls, his body opening for his lover, and slams into Miranda again, dipping down to kiss and bite at her mouth.
It takes a few moments for Miranda to notice the change in Mark. When he kisses her, she looks up to see his face unguarded and intent with pleasure. Behind him, she feels more than sees Vin's presence, pressing Mark into her. It's like being fucked by both of them at once, and she loves it. Her legs go up and round Vin's strong thighs, welcoming him in again, and her free arm around Mark, who's thrusting into her ferociously.
Mark's growling out inarticulate curses and groans against Miranda's throat, biting and sucking at the skin there as he drives into her glove-tight heat while Vin slams into him from behind. It's overwhelming to be so engulfed and so opened, and he reaches back for Vin, searching blindly for any part of him he can touch.
Grabbing Mark's hand, Vin holds it tightly as he slams into him over and over again. "Gonna fuck you right into her," he growls, dropping any attempt at talking like a pirate. "How do you like that, girl?" he demands, looking over Mark's shoulder at Miranda, who seems to be liking it quite well.
Breathing, much less answering, is a bit tricky for Miranda, buried as she is under two large male bodies, and her own arm. "'S good," she manages, before Mark thrusts in again and takes her breath away. She finds a rhythm, rubbing her clit when they pull out and letting her hand go flat when they push again. It feels fantastic, and she's close to coming again, despite the awkwardness of the position.
Mark groans, gripping Vin's hand hard and it's a rough, ragged rhythm as they drive together, sweat-slick and shaking. "God, so fucking close," he gasps, twisting around to bite at Vin and then slamming into Miranda again, faster now, he wants it, wants to feel her pussy in a hot spasm around his cock as he comes with Vin buried inside him.
"Wait," Vin demands, although he can hardly speak at this point. "Not yet .... oh fuck ... not yet..." He manages to drive into Mark a few more times before he knows he's on the edge. "Now, boy," he growls. "You too, girl."
At Vin's order Mark slams hard into Miranda and grinds deep, gasping against her throat as he comes, his cock jerking inside the glove-tight heat of her body.
Gasping, Miranda feels her fingers pushed are against her clit by Mark's thrusts, it feels bloody wonderful. But it's more the knowledge that she's fucking them both at once -- and that they're both coming in this lovely messy pile of sex -- that makes her buck and come.
"Goddamn," Vin groans, pulling back enough to collapse to the side instead of smashing Mark into Miranda. "Fucking amazing, both of you."
Laughing breathlessly, Mark topples off to the other side of Miranda, stripping off the condom with a wince and knotting it before he tosses it into the trash.
"Man," he says, grinning. "We just had breakfast and I'm already ready for a nap."
Miranda's still breathless and dry-mouthed, still quaking a bit, still shocked at what they did and how bloody much she liked it. Vin saying 'amazing' is the perfect reassurance. It's nice to be in the middle, but she needs to be held after all that. She pulls them both close, snuggling between them, saying, "God, that was... bloody wonderful."
<
Next: Part 10