Tag: max/anne

bisexualpirateheart:

Jack didn’t understand. That was problem number one. It
wasn’t just about wanting a woman. Anne had wanted women before.  Didn’t drive her mad with desire, the way it
did with men. She wasn’t ruled by her cunt, not like men and their cocks. Just looking
at a women and thinking her pretty, that was nothing. Nothing to fret about. She
didn’t have to say anything about it. It was enough to just look.

Problem number two was herself. Anne knew she wasn’t the
sort that other women were drawn to. She wasn’t soft or sweet; she wasn’t kind
or pretty or anything like that. She wasn’t drawn to dresses or jewels, baubles
showcasing a woman’s assets how people liked. She was like as not always rough
and half covered in grime, clothes rusty with bloodstained, long stringy hair
unkempt. As long it didn’t get in her eyes in a fight, she didn’t bother with
it.

The third problem was the woman. The woman in particular, for it was just one woman this time,
making her feel as she did. Max was all of those things, but they didn’t demean
her. They didn’t fill Anne with disgust like they did sometimes on other women.
Max used her power to get what she wanted to survive, what she wanted, for
pleasure.

That was something to be admired, Anne thought.

Max was meant to be admired. She deserved someone who could
give her things, who could show her how much she deserved the entire world to
be laid at her feet. How she should never have to move a fucking finger if she
didn’t want to.

That wasn’t Anne Bonny. She was never going to be good
enough, she knew that.

But she did her best.

She brought back a shawl from one of their plunders, a silly
bit of bright yellow silk that made her think Max when she saw it.

She left it on the foot of Max’s bed one night when she was
leaving.

“You forgot this?” Max came in from her dressing room, her
robe pulled loosely around her body, barely covering it. Anne shivered
slightly, knowing all the full delights that body gave her, how freely Max gave
them to her, and was what struck Anne with wonder time and time again.

Max gave herself to Anne, because she wanted to.

Max held out the shawl, waiting for Anne to take it.

“Naw.” Anne ducked her head, reaching for her hat. “I didn’t
forget it. It’s for you.” She paused, watching Max’s face as she looked down at
the shawl, puzzled. “Thought you might like it, is all.” And she ducked out of
the bedroom quickly before she could see Max’s face.

If she had lingered, she would have seen Max’s fingers trace
over the soft silk, gently, as though it would vanish from her fingers if she
held it too close. She would have seen Max slowly pull the shawl around her
shoulders, holding it lightly to her body with her eyes closed like she was letting
herself breathe for the first time in a long time.