Pirates and Princes

Your lips part as you startle at the scene, this man's hand is more like a giant panther paw than a human appendage. Each knuckle sports several scars and scrapes along with several bronze rings of skulls and intricate designs. His palm felt coarse and hard, the grip around your finger fell calculatively short of painful.

You follow the tan skinned hand up the wrist, thick black hair scales along his hands and up his forearm. The majority of the man in fact, seemed covered in either scars or hair.

Before long you are shocked from an awkward fixation on his arms onto the pair of steele blue irises piercing into you. The man lowers his eyes and you feel fabric being crafted around your hand. The man's face is severely darkened by the sun and his thick square eyebrows furrow in concentration. His angular jawline clenches, just visible behind matted dreadlocks spilling about his clavicle. Finally you move to his lips.

They work with silent words as the man works. Rough and angled, but unquestionably soft. They move quicker and quicker, you feel yourself lean forward unconsciously. His lips part and you feel a pressure at your shoulder.

A rough foreign accent enters your ears, "Miss, you had better step back, if your value your precious customs."

You snap back and look around. Your cheeks blister as you realize the man is shirtless, your hand lays on his chest and his hand balances you back on your hips.