CW: Capture fantasy, non-consent, substances. All characters are adults.
Sail Away with Me
My eyelids are heavy and my room feels like it’s gently rocking as I drift in and out of sleep. It feels like that heavy, drowsy sleep that overtakes you when you have a fever and you collapse midday on the sofa with only vivid and strange dreams to keep you company. My pillows are fluffy like clouds and my nightgown is made of soft cotton. Since when do I have night gowns? I always sleep in a well-worn t-shirt or sometimes an oversized flannel button up if it’s cold, but the question flits across my mind and drifts away getting stuck in the mud before vanishing in the fog.
I try to break through the haze to reach for some water on my bedside table. I must really be sick, I think as my hand swipes through the air and finds a wall instead. My heart begins to beat faster as my body begins to process what my mind is not yet ready to accept. I expect to be sticky with sweat after collapsing in such a fevered state, but my legs are dry and smooth and I can tell that I have been freshly shaved from the waist down by the way my skin glides against the cool sheets. I wonder who has prepared my body for bed. It’s then that I smell the salt.
I was born on the coast and I have always felt that I am at home as long as I am close to the ocean. As the smell of brine strikes my nostrils my animal brain snaps awake and there is no mistaking it. I am at sea. Panic begins to consume me as I run through what I can recall from before I fell asleep. I feel the ravenous hunger at the end of my work day, too strong to face the commute home without something to eat.
My memories are in tatters but the sensory impressions are strong. I see a glowing lavender sign and feel the crush of the velvet upholstered chair at my table for one. I drown in the smell of sandalwood and whisky and the gaze of piercing blue-green eyes. I hear a voice deep and smooth like liquid asking if I would mind some company for dinner. I taste an unpleasant acidity in my glass of merlot, normally plush on the palate, and think the bottle must be corked. The rest evades me like sand slipping through my fingers as I grasp for details.
I’m struck from my broken reverie by the same aroma of whisky and sandalwood. I know he is there before his voice even reaches my ears. I whimper. “Shhh,” he says, “we’ll be home in a few days my love.” I feel the mattress shift with his weight. I can’t regain control of my muscles yet and it surprises me when I feel his hand lift my head and cool water trickles from a glass into my mouth. Several drops of condensation land on my chest and slide down over my breast. The cold liquid causes my nipples to harden in response.
I drink deeply suddenly so parched that I don’t care if the water is tainted. Mercifully I detect no hint of the acidity from the night before on my palate, and as I hydrate I begin to regain my faculties. “Good girl,” he says. “Who would have thought you’d be so reasonable, darling?” I say nothing in response.
“I’m so pleased that you are finally awake,” he quips as my heart tries to claw its way out of my chest. “I wanted our first time to be memorable.” I whimper again when really, I want to scream. It’s the best I can manage. “Save your energy princess,” he chastises, “it will be days before we reach the shore.”
Instinctively I know the time for words is done, and he begins to lift away the cotton of my nightgown in an unhurried sort of way that tells me he has no fear of being interrupted. I can feel his calm sink into my pores and I know there is no help on the way. He runs his fingers over my lips and presses them inside of my mouth. I use what little energy I have to bite him and taste the tiniest drop of copper. His laugh in response as he presses my jaw gently open and retracts his fingers, shreds the last traces of my composure and I growl. “Ah, there’s my little wild thing,” he muses, spreading my knees apart and slipping a hand between my thighs.
He begins to stroke between my legs, probing and exploring. I see victory in his smile as my body betrays me and begins to coat his fingers in my slick. He sucks his fingers before penetrating my core more deeply and dragging them across my lips so that the faintest taste of salt mingles with the scent of the surrounding sea. As he plays with my breasts and laps them one after the other with his tongue my body begins to wake.
He moves lower, dipping into my navel and tracing my hip bones before plunging his tongue into my core and lapping at my folds. I begin to struggle in earnest but he pins my hips to the mattress with strong hands. His tongue lashes violently at my softest places, and I am filled with anguish as I feel a familiar pressure begin to build inside of me. My mind rages against my traitorous flesh and I fight with every fiber of my being not to let the pleasure take me, but it is like swimming against the tide in a storm. The waves crash relentlessly over me until I succumb to the sea of sensation.
As I collapse against the mattress with burning lungs, his body rises above me. I feel myself being tossed and rolled onto my belly, and I am crushed against the sheets like a piece of driftwood against the rocks by the swell of the ocean. My channel is too narrow as he surges against me and recedes, sinking deeper with every stroke. His arms envelope me allowing his hands to caress below with gentleness even as he continues to rage inside of me, and I feel I will be torn apart. As the tempest of his passion reaches its peak, I feel a new wetness bursting inside of me. I feel I am drowning with my head wrenched backwards by my tangled damp locks, meeting his gaze. I find I’ve not enough air to make sound, and as he swells inside of me again, I scream silently into the depths of the blue-green abyss. I’m forced to surrender as he pulls me under again.