Skull and Dagger

Less than an hour later, Elizabeth didn’t even exist. She didn’t mind, though; it was too much fun to watch the pair when they got wrapped up in their own little world. Plus, Gerard had come in shortly before, and was currently providing her with a warm and comfy backrest.

Oblivious to their amused audience, Annabelle and Frank were exchanging a quick series of parries…with the soft bound reeds that were used for practice purposes. Frank's skill far exceeded Annabelle's, of course, and he’d taken to teasing her lightly when she’d refused to just obey the drill instructions he’d given her.

A couple swift swats to her padded behind and the stealthy theft of one of her hair ribbons, and Annabelle had gotten that enraged flush in her cheeks he so admired and had started charging him with a fury so wild that even he had to struggle to evade it.

He ducked and rolled to the side with a little chuckle, just barely avoiding the swat she was so intent on giving him. She turned on him with a little delighted smile of her own before moving to strike once more.

He parried her first few blows with ease, and she stomped her foot on the ground in annoyance.

“Maybe you’d like to go back to this drills?” he teased lightly, gracefully evading yet another swipe of her mock-blade.

“Laugh now,” she countered, her eyes narrowed, “but when I get you-Ooh!”

The exclamation had been in response to the crafty little feint he’d pulled before deftly catching the wrist that held her reeds, pushing it to the side and bringing her body flush up against his in her process. His grip dropped to her waist, holding her close and…

She let out a heady little gasp at the feel of the body that held her. She had been in his arms before, of course - in fact, far too often for it to be coincidence, her mind pointed out - but it still shocked her every time just how good he felt against her.

However, Annabelle Sutton was never one to back down from a battle.

“Gotcha,” Frank whispered softly, his eyes transfixed by the soft, full curves of her lips.

“Actually,” she said with a wry smile, “I believe I’ve got you.” The end of her reed jabbed into his back.

His eyes widened in surprise. “Back-stabber,” he accused fondly.

“Right up between the ribs,” she said in triumph. “I believe you told me that’s the most effective place to strike.”

A smile lit up his face. “Looks like you got me,” he agreed before putting a melodramatic hand to his forehead. “You’ve slain me, ‘Belle,” he cried out in mock-pain before falling back onto the floor, his arm around her waist holding her tight and pulling her with him.

Annabelle laughed and squealed as they fell to the floor together, her body landing right atop his. “Frank?” she prodded him after he hadn’t moved for a few seconds, his eyes still closed in fake death.

He opened one mischievous eye to look at her. “Can’t talk,” he informed her. “Dead.”

She giggled and rested one hand against the smooth plane of his chest. “Your heart’s still beating,” she pointed out.

“No, I‘m sure I‘m dead,” he insisted. “After all, how else can I explain the angel above me?”

Annabelle cheeks reddened. “This ‘angel’ wields sharp, pointy objects,” she reminded him, propping herself up on one arm, her other hand still pressed against the rapid beating of his heart. She looked down at him, admiring the strong lines of his face as curtained by her long hair.

“My kind of angel then…” he said softly, a lazy, contented smile crossing his face.

Annabelle's lips suddenly felt dry, and she unconsciously licked them. Frank's eyes followed the motion of her tongue hungrily, his own mouth drying out in response. Annabelle's gaze flicked down to his lips in turn, and slowly she leaned in closer until their warm breaths met.

“I thought you said you didn’t desire me,” she whispered softly, coyly.

“No,” he countered, “I said it's never a smart idea to take an unwilling’ woman to bed, especially one who’s so prone to stabbing. I‘ve got no hesitation when it comes to a willing one…” His hands trailed up her back, pulling her closer and…

So beautiful… Annabelle's mind hummed in pleasure. Does it really matter what he is?

And then she realized in horror what she’d just thought, leaping back from his body just as their lips brushed.

“Belle?” He still lay back on the floor, flushed, confused, aching for the touch that had just evaded him.

“Oh my god…” Annabelle brought one hand up to her mouth at what she’d nearly done, at how far she’d drifted from the lady that had been dragged kicking and screaming aboard. What was wrong with her that she would actually consider…? And with a pirate?!

“G-Get away from me!” she exclaimed, frightened, when he rose to his feet.

“Belle…” he held out one hand to her.

And she bolted.