Read time ~15-25 mins

This chapter contains: explicit trans lesbian sex, fluffy romance, drug descriptions, size difference, bdsm, and a small (but tasty ;) ) amount of blood play.

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Chapter II: Seagulls Cry Out

The day after the greatest night of one’s life is destined for either disappointment by contrast or the start of something truly beautiful.

River was trying their best to get a grip on the world, and failing. They had made some great effort to shower after last night’s fucking, and failed, so it was the natural thing to do after waking up. Yet River’s limbs continued to lock up, as if they might return to the previous night if they just entered the dream realm once more and began a reversal of time with force of will alone. Back to the night it had all changed, the chance of a lifetime, it made all the sense in the world and no sense at all, they were Hers…

It wasn’t working. Dream logic never translated. Life was moving forward. They pushed off the blankets, several thin layers of cotton dyed the color of the deep ocean. Hazel eyes opened on a pillowcase grey as the clouds currently hanging outside, to fix on the window across the bed, floor covered in crumpled clothes of various styles, including River’s. 

There were visible cum stains on the pillow where Zenny had been sleeping before slinking off somewhere under the pretense of work. Ditto the middle of the bed, where small translucent splotches indicated various places one or both of them had pushed their cocks to form a wet spot. It had been a very pleasurable night. River had never pictured something like this in any fantasy. They were expecting to blow Zenny in the locker and maybe smoke and chat after. Now their entire life seemed upended, or at least on all fours.

River wanted to believe that Zenny was being truthful about her status as a ship engineer, but it had been a fuzzy night after it was clear their attraction was mutual. Nothing had quite messed with their head like this woman. Tall, mysterious, yet somehow already so well known after less than a day.

They stood up from the bed, crossed to open the shutters and dared to peek out, minimizing visibility to lookie-loos. River had not been blind to the many stares as Zenny had led them out of the gambling halls down to her personal cabin. They could recall heavy blushing as some first mate in the boiler room ribbed Zenny about her choice in partners. They could not help but wonder just how “well traveled” this sailor was. 

She was already teaching them more than they ever thought to learn. River knew that her talents spoke to a depth of lived experience. They found themselves trying to picture what life might be like living with Zenny. The future to River was always foggy and indefinite, a flavor described but never tasted. Meeting Zenny had upended even this. River did not care about their future if it did not involve this woman. Sated once, they were hungry for more.

The day was not matching what River had imagined as they fell asleep last night in the throes of euphoria. It was gray and dismal yet without fog or mists that often accompanied such weather. There was only an occasional burst of drizzles splashing harmlessly here or there that left one with the impression of a storm to come. 

Small puddles had begun to form on the gunmetal deck, and these reflected the sky back upwards to appear as small pools of rippling silver. The captain had reassured everyone that they would travel their route unobstructed and in satisfactory time for a boat of this size. In this monochrome morning River was beginning to have doubts. They began reflecting on what they been able to notice through the haze of weed.

Most of the sailors interacting with Zenny had been holding in their voices a certain edge, some sort of knowing note that a casual eavesdropper might miss. River was noticing a particular focus on timing that was more often absent from civilian vessels, especially for a captain with no naval service himself whom nearly everyone agreed was lazy. The crew was *very* put together, tight knit, even, when they were not dealing with the captain. 

River could not remember meeting the captain last night, though Zenny later made it clear that he was one of those they had run into on the way to her cabin. His name was Markan. He was some aspiring trader-cum-ferryman, who owned a small estate in the countryside, or maybe several. River stopped paying attention once it was clear he wasn’t scraping by and never would again, if he ever struggled in the first place. Zenny made it clear that he was secretive, though she never ended up elaborating. There was a sense that she liked to keep people guessing, even those she liked. Maybe especially the ones she liked. River could hardly blame someone for finding fun in the tease.

The day was not going to see much direct sunlight. They stared into clouds overlaid for miles in every direction. Beyond the ship's railing there was nearly endless grey-blue ocean. River knew the coast was likely visible on the other side of the ship, if only just. Seagulls were flying over the boat, occasionally swooping down to land on a railing or suspended wire, calling out to each other in squawking barks. The route was renowned for expediency, they had been assured, though they could not remember by whom. Perhaps that had been Markan. Whiskey and weed fogged it all beyond certainty.

It might ruin things if they asked Zenny about ship business immediately. Big wheels had been turning since before they were born and would continue to do so. River liked where they were in life, for the moment. They had problems they could barely manage, and debts they didn’t even want to think about. For the moment they had met a beautiful woman who not only reciprocated their scary-intense feelings but had already claimed them as her own. River shivered at the very thought of what that might actually mean, and how far Zenny might take it.

They were still staring at the clouds when the door knocked quickly behind them before bursting open faster than they could hope to react. For a second they felt a pang of fear before noticing the hair, pink and floppy as a rhododendron in late summer, blossomed and beginning to wilt. I hope I get to see summer with her. 

They sighed at their own lovesickness (though they were not ready to call it that) and walked around the bed as Zenny shut the cabin door, taking care to not slam it as she turned both of the locking mechanisms. She turned and smiled with her teeth, advancing in large emphatic strides towards her new pet. “I knew you would just be waiting for more.” She said, not bothering with a greeting or much of anything at all. They met at the foot of the bed, and as River was searching for the words to say, Zenny had already picked them up, and their legs instinctively wrapped around her. But then they were pushed backwards, back onto the bed, as she smirked in that way she did. River was already fond of that smirk.

Zenny was ready to take advantage of their body before they had a chance to clean up from last night. River was not wearing anything. Their hair was already a mess from the previous night, looking like the dark overpacked nest of some bird primarily known for scavenging. Several hickeys were visible across them, including a deep red mark on the right side of their wide neck. 

She quickly got out of her work fatigues to reveal a tank top and some plain panties the color of cherry blossoms, a large bulge straining them, blonde pubic hairs slightly visible underneath. River began to stretch forward and reach out, but thought better of it and fell back, letting their arms go limp on the sheets, a heap of arms and legs quivering at the thought of what might come next.

They did not remain this way for long. Zenny fell onto the bed, knees quickly moving forward until she was crawling on top of River, feeling the skin of their legs with a light gasp. River’s nipples were hard and inviting, and Zenny’s fingers began to twist at both of them as she moved her face up the right side of River’s torso. They let out a moan as her nose brushed the side of their breast. Passing River’s slightly hairy armpit,  Zenny let her tongue out to glide up and reach River’s collarbone, where she began to kiss and suck with tenderness. Her head moved upwards slightly with each kiss. 

“Z-Zenny, this is w-why, I knew why I would like you,” River was failing to keep their cool and shaking slightly. They were fond of attempting to retain control before relinquishing it, taken anew by each successive action. It was all pushing the right buttons. “You get right down t-“ They were cut off as a hand moved from their right breast to come over their mouth, two fingers pushing themselves past their teeth to make her point. 

“You don’t need to talk.” Zenny said, pulling back from River’s neck, fingers firm in their mouth. The two of them locked eyes in that instant, taking each other in. She rose a bit above them, pressing down with her body’s superior mass, subjugating River as if they were nothing. There was command in her voice, with a hint of pleading, as if she wasn’t completely sure River would play along. 

River did not need convincing, and straightened, freezing, even killing the quiver that had served them well in getting this far. They slowly stretched their lips to better suck upon Zenny’s fingers, fingers River had dreamed of, slender and strong on calloused hands accustomed to laboring. Setting their mind to think of nothing else but service, they let the engineer explore the rest of their body, to better use it for the duration of the voyage. Their lips were nearly to Zenny’s knuckles. The fingers stroked their tongue, and River fought the urge to gag, coughing slightly and swallowing, light tears forming in their eyes. Sensing the struggle, Zenny decided to amp things up and twisted hard on the left nipple still in her hand, invoking a truly unanticipated squeal.

“That’s my girl.” Her voice had shifted, boiling confidence, heat emanating off each movement. The woman seemed a monument, an animated obelisk intent to guide and condemn. River was entranced, tongue moving up and down between the two digits, staring into Zenny’s face as she curled her fingers and pushed them slightly further. They were transfixed by those emerald eyes, twin bonsai resilient below a cliffside sunrise of brilliant pink. Quick as lightning, Zenny’s left hand was on their shoulder, and her right hand was pulled away out of River’s mouth to rest upon the opposite shoulder. The hand was covered in significant drool. 

“Alright then.” Zenny smirked, which made River shiver in delight. There was a pause as she looked around the room before suddenly sliding off the bed, making sure to trace her hand over their cock before crossing the room to check her closet. River chanced to let out another whimper, expressing discontent in being left to hang.

They could not make out what Zenny was pulling from her closet, but quivered at the thought of being dressed up or made to use a dildo. Her back was toned with muscle, slightly covered in sweat, a bead falling off the angles her arms and legs made as she rooted around. There was graceful passion to each movement, though the closet seemed completely disorganized.

River was finding it entrancing to look at her tattoos, attempting to parse the origin and meaning for each as Zenny searched. In particular there was a small symbol tattooed below her left breast that River had decided was their favorite for the time being, and knew they must to ask about it later. The thought had come to ask her about them as they had fallen asleep in Her arms last night. 

They had been too snug in the moment, however. Too high off post-orgasm adrenaline and cannabis to do anything but nestle further into Zenny’s breasts, soft and safe, held like never before, sticky from sweat and girlcum. She already feels like home.

Zenny was handling a silken button-up dress shirt with a white and blue checkerboard pattern, undoing each button slowly. It was here that River’s curiosity got the better of them, and they spoke, eyes fixed on the top half of a spiral tattoo peeking out from her ass, still in those pink panties. “Are you—“

Zenny had turned around immediately as they began talking and held up one finger. “That was a mistake.” As River went quiet, She frowned. River had only seen her frown once before, but couldn’t place where. It had been in response to someone else, they were sure, but everything else was a fog. “You won’t let it happen again, right, baby?” Her hand went up to wipe the sweat from her brow. With a playful grunt she flicked it towards River, who was looking extremely guilty for violating the silence. 

A large bead of sweat landed on River’s tummy  to slide down and pool in their navel. They were shaking slightly as they shook their head and silently mouthed no. They had crossed their legs on the bed and their cock was twitching though not fully erect.

Zenny dropped the shirt on the floor and walked back over to the bed in long, powerful strides. “That’s right. Now.” She began to speak with full authority. Her eyes scanned around the room. “You are going to crawl over to that window right now if you know what’s good for you.”

River’s eyes were wide as they slid off the corner of the bed, not bothering to nod lest it disrupt eye contact. They got on their knees and turned towards the window. There was a loud clap as Zenny smacked their left asscheek, the minor sting of surprise overridden in an instant by tumultuous shakes of ecstasy through their body. Attempting to not swear as usual, River bit their lower lip only to gasp inwardly at new pain and the taste of copper. The small split on their bottom lip from the previous night had opened up from the bite.

They halted for a second wondering if the noise of the gasp had registered, but Zenny said nothing. They had barely moved the first leg forward before a second smack, this time on the opposite cheek. It was harder and more determined to inflict a response, and not wanting to bite again, River let out a cry  tinged with the unmistakeable inflection of a woman savoring her experience.

“Heh.” Her voice cut through, confidence with a dash of salt. “That’s what I thought.” River could hear the smirk now, even when she was out of sight. They were wondering if they should beg to be forgiven but were struck with paralysis. The shaking was uncontrollable at this point. They could feel blood pumping in both asscheeks. They sensed Zenny staring at the marks on their heart-shaped ass, their delicate wide hips, shapely calves made large from endless hiking.

Arms closed around River’s torso, tensing as they were pulled upwards and thrown back on the bed. Their world was a swirl of colors, the slightly faded bubblegum pink of Zenny’s bangs a guiding light at the center of their universe. 

Blood was now pumping in River’s ears from being moved around so quickly. The heartbeat rhythm was staccato and slightly erratic. They realized the cut was making it pound harder, and without thinking bit down again with a moderate amount of pressure. They wanted to feel the blood pump as wildly as they felt in the moment. Healing could wait.

The pain of the lip served as a focusing prism for all sensation they felt. Surrounding colors became still once more and all they could focus on was Zenny’s glimmering gaze. The ship had apparently altered course slightly at some point, shifting the daylight directly into the cabin. The dreary day outside washed upon her face, tinting her flesh silver and her green eyes with just a hint of blue. Seeing the blood, she showed concern for a second, her smirk shifting to become a matter-of-fact grimace.

She leaned forward, her arms on the bed. Her breasts had visibly stiff nipples pointing slightly up towards River. “I told you to be quiet, and you were not.” She moved forward to climb on the bed, her knees at their feet. Her face was a foot away from theirs, and formed into a pout. “And you’ve opened that lip again, poor thing.” 

The words evaporated into the air before she craned her neck forward and just barely opened her mouth. River was helpless. Her tongue began at their chin and moved in a slight arc up to rest just below their nose. They were now biting the inside of their cheek to attempt to keep silent, but a low whimper could be heard. Flicking her tongue on the tip of their nose, she drifted to River’s right ear.

“You know,” she breathed slowly into their ear, “You hurt yourself worse than I, ah, might have.” River felt as though her voice was wafting past their ear to melt a glacier inside of their brain. The pain of the new split was subsiding, but their ears were still drumming steady, ushered on by the heat of her breath. Every other word Zenny spoke warped around their heartbeat. She was aching, pounding, forming the rhythm of their life. 

“I swear….” her tongue lapped at their earlobe, and the drumming was unbearable. “I wanted to punish you more.” River heard the smirk turn to a smile as they were pushed slowly onto their back with Zenny’s right hand. Her left hand was grabbing at their breast to pinch at a nipple, tweaking it dramatically, keeping it pulled up from the the rest of their body as it laid down upon the cotton sheets. “I was going to tie you next to the window with that shirt,” she breathed each word louder and slower as she released the nipple, “and fuck you silly while the whole damned boat heard you whine out that you…are…mine.”

The two of them were staring once more, the only sound between them heavy breathing. Zenny let the nipple go, resting both hands on the tops of River’s thighs. River’s body seemed to relax. The moment hung frozen in the air like a snowflake caught in a gentle breeze. A gull cried out somewhere above the ship, and River’s eyes flicked to the window as Zenny suppressed a giggle behind her knowing smile. Neither was sure the silence should be truly broken.

“You still can.” River let the words spill out. Their hazel eyes were still watering slightly.

The gull cried again and the smirk faded. Zenny grabbed River’s cock and began to suck softly with enthusiasm. River started to moan, but it was cut short as her fingers once again jammed in their mouth. There was no need to argue, and no will besides.

River’s cock was moderately large and Zenny was able to suck it while pumping it at the shaft. Her tongue glided across the head, tracing letters large and small, flicking this way and that as her lips went slightly up and down. The moans came once more, muted somewhat through the fingers. Zenny looked up, and gave River the most beautiful sight they had ever seen: A tall, muscular woman staring straight at them with emerald eyes and their leaking cock in her mouth. There was a messy blood smear on the top of her lips from where she had licked their cut. It gave her a feral appearance suited perfectly to the moment.

I bleed for her.

Her fingers pulled out of River’s mouth just as her lips came all the way up to kiss their cock’s head. Lingering just long enough to give it one more tiny suck, her head pulled up slightly, and a long string of clear precum ran from her bottom lip to the underside of the shaft. River was trembling, which Zenny not only saw but felt in her hand still holding the shaft.

“Alright, I’ll let you moan.” Zenny said in a tone of mock resignation, as if it were a major concession. River responded by immediately letting out a low howl that was less a moan of received pleasure than a dog in heat going mad from a lack thereof. She giggled once more. “Oh, darling, what am I going to do with you?” She extended her legs to kneel over their quivering body once more. Her panties were stretched from her hard cock now pointing forward, a prominent wet spot where her head strained the fabric. Emeralds gleamed with passion.

When River began to open their mouth for another response she put the fingers, still wet, to their lips. “Moan. Not talk.” They nodded emphatically as she reached behind their head and pulled it downward for a kiss, the spit-covered cock continuing to leak precum between them. River tasted their own sweetness mixed with the copper tang of blood, and let out a moan much higher and relaxed than the first.

There were more gulls crying now, all the better to drown out the various noises of pleasure coming from the Engineer’s Cabin. A sailor would never mistake one for the other, of course. A seagull’s call is a strained and pathetic thing, while a moan contains an intellect all its own. A cry in hunger is desperate and pleading, a cry of pleasure focused on what has already been found. Weaved together, they formed a rhythm; pounding, shifting, swirling, crashing like ocean waves upon the side of a ship.

End Chapter II

To Be Continued!

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Luna🌙