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The two warships set down their anchors beside one another. Jaina has taken a grand clipper from the Proudmoore fleet, favouring its speed and not expecting to need to fight. She is not surprised to see Sylvanas has chosen a heavily armoured galley. The forsaken fleet is smaller, and almost solely equipped for warfare. Both are, admittedly, far larger ships than might be needed for a simple negation. But a show of power speaks for itself in such times.
The two women approach one another, and offer curt, terse nods.
“Lady Sylvanas, you seem to have come readied for war. I had been assured these talks were to be conducted with no bloodshed,” Jaina calls from the deck of her own ship.
“And so they will be, Lord Admiral,” Sylvanas replies, drawing out the title in a mocking tone. “But it is never remiss to remind your enemy of your arsenal should such talks fail. Don’t you agree?”
They stare at one another with barely disguised contempt for a moment, before Sylvanas breaks into a smug grin. A grin intended solely to rile Jaina.
“Now won’t you step aboard so that we can begin, Lady Jaina?”
The sound of three dozen leather gloves gripping sword hilts echoes around the deck behind Jaina. She raises a hand to indicate they need not draw their weapons.
“Lady Sylvanas acquiesced to our terms to meet in open sea. If I am to take diplomatic matters into my own hands, I am more than willing to accept some of her terms as well.”
She crosses deftly from one deck to the other. A lifetime aboard ships has made such movements second nature to her. She tries not to pay too much attention to Sylvanas’ eyes upon her as she does so. Once aboard she is led down into the hold and toward the captain’s quarters. They are very far from the rest of the ship’s crew here. Whatever happens next, at least they will not be overheard.
“Diplomatic matters?” Sylvanas purrs once they are behind closed doors. “Is that how you refer to me before your men?”
“Oh you wouldn’t like to hear how I refer to you before my men,” Jaina quips back, before pushing Sylvanas into the closed door and slipping her hand into the belt that sits upon her waist. From it she pulls a small, elegantly carved knife. “I thought we agreed to each bring no weapons.”
“That can hardly be called a weapon,” Sylvanas scoffs. “Go on then, take my diplomatic matters into your own hands. You know I prefer it when you’re angry with me.”
There it is again, that smirk. Sylvanas knows how much it riles Jaina, and Jaina has learnt well how to wipe it from her face. She throws the knife to one side, letting it land with a clatter, and turns her attention to the over complicated array of buckles and clasps that hold Sylvanas’ armour together. Her nimble fingers unbuckle each, allowing her to peel the armour from Sylvanas’ body.
“So what terms do you come to me with this time?” Sylvanas asks as she is being undressed.
Jaina’s eyes linger a moment on the lithe body before her, but she resists her urge to reach out and touch it just yet.
“The cost of this war is growing too high. Pull your forces from Stormsong entirely and I’ll cede the Drustvar azerite mines to you.”
At this, Sylvanas cocks a brow. “Truly?”
“The lives of my people are more important to me than a tool to simply take more of yours. And you know I have ways of making you amenable to my terms.”
Jaina summons a thin layer of ice over her hands, and then places her fingers lightly on Sylvanas’ breasts. The sharp intake of breath tells her all she needs to know, and she begins toying with the banshee queen’s now hardened nipples. Jaina has seen Sylvanas’ arousal enough by now to recognise when she is trying to suppress it. Her stiffened back is pressed against the wall, and she bites her lip in an effort to suppress any moans that might escape her mouth. What she can’t hide, however, is the slickness that has built between her legs already, and is quickly discovered by Jaina as she snakes a frozen hand down her body and slides it between her waiting folds.
Sylvanas lets out a breathy gasp as Jaina works her, coaxing every sensitivity as she strokes and circles her clit, hands now soaked in the banshee’s wetness. Sylvanas’ ears buzz and her mind swims with pleasure. She inches backward and grabs Jaina’s wrists, pulling her hand away before she is pushed over the edge. There is no sense letting Jaina have the upper hand. Or lower hand, in this case.
Sylvanas reaches forward to unlace the dress Jaina is wearing. Her cold, dead fingers meet no resistance as she reaches the final fastening, and it falls from Jaina’s body and pools at her feet. Sylvanas smirks with approval as she realises Jaina wears no undergarments, and they both now stand naked before each other. She lets her eyes linger a moment on the elegant curve of Jaina’s hips, and the golden curls that lay between them.
It stirs something within her anew, and her arousal pulses deep in her core. She grabs Jaina’s hand and places it back between her legs, then leans forward. Her tongue traces down Jaina’s neck, then her collarbone, savouring the salty tang that travel by sea has left upon her skin, and then she continues down until it grazes lightly over a warm nipple. The lord admiral shudders, just slightly. Just enough for Sylvanas to know she is already sensitive. As if in retaliation, Jaina’s pace increases, and she pushes Sylvanas’ mouth away and her body back against the door.
“Patience, banshee,” she hisses as she plunges her fingers into Sylvanas’ waiting hole, prompting another gasp.
There is a desperation now in Sylvanas’ ragged breathlessness. She doesn’t want to reveal how close she is. It has been an embarrassingly short time, after all, and she doesn’t want to admit how adept Jaina is at touching her just as she needs.
Her long nails dig into the wood of the door behind her as she fights against her building orgasm, but it is too late. She shudders and quivers against Jaina, fighting to remain upright as waves of pleasure crash through her.
“Now,” Jaina whispers into her ear. “Do you feel as though my terms are any more agreeable yet?”
“I may need some more time to consider,” Sylvanas purrs. She forces against the weakness in her knees to push Jaina onto the writing desk and spread her legs apart. The lord admiral considers for a moment just how vulnerable this position is, and something deep within twinges in pleasure at the thought. She can feel how hot and wet she is growing beneath Sylvanas’ hungry gaze. The banshee queen wastes no time in gripping Jaina’s fleshy thighs and placing one on each of her shoulders.
Her tongue is teasing at first, tracing lightly over Jaina’s slit with only the barest amount of pressure as Jaina squirms beneath her touch.
“I shall have to praise the Lord Admiral’s diplomacy if I agree to such terms,” Sylvanas says quietly, keeping her voice to a low, breathy whisper. “But I wonder what your men would say if I praised her cunt instead.”
She presses against her more firmly now, her cold tongue lapping at Jaina’s slick folds, tracing from her clit to her entrance and back again in a slow, deliberate motion that sends deep, shuddering ecstasy through her body.
“They’d have your head on a pike before you could finish the sentence,” Jaina replies, though with some difficulty and between sharp intakes of breath. “Though that does mean I could keep your mouth all for myself.”
“Mmm, perhaps not then. I rather like my head.”
“I like your head too,” Jaina quips back. She instantly regrets it when the comment earns her Sylvanas’ quickened pace. She wishes her feet were on the floor in order to ground herself, but they are not. Instead she grips at whatever she can, as her body begins to writhe despite herself. She would rather the first thing her hands found be anything but Sylvanas’ hair, but her desperate grasping seems to spur the banshee queen on further, at least.
Jaina prides herself on lasting longer than Sylvanas did, but it only takes a few further minutes of the banshee’s expert tongue hungrily drinking her in before her own body gives over to pleasure and she lets out the sort of moan that makes her thankful Sylvanas had the foresight to lead them far into the bowels of the ship.
They say nothing as they once more dress, until Sylvanas breaks the silence.
“While I do agree to your terms, I think there is yet more for us to discuss.” Though her tone is cold and formal, there is a glint in her eye that tells Jaina exactly what sort of discussions she has in mind.
“I quite agree. And perhaps next time we ought to meet somewhere even more private in case discussions become…heated. I would like to quite rigorously hash things out.”
“I’ll be in touch,” Sylvanas says with a smirk.
“I hope so,” Jaina says as she leaves.