SEA BLOODED.

“Randy Dandy-O”

Now we are ready to sail for the Horn, Weigh hey, roll and go! Our boots and our clothes, boys, are all in the pawn, To be rollicking randy dandy-O!

Heave a pawl, O heave away! Weigh hey, roll and go! The anchor’s on board an’ the cable’s all stored, To be rollicking randy dandy-O!

Soon we’ll be warping her out through the locks, Weigh hey, roll and go! Where the pretty young girls all come down in their flocks, To be rollicking randy dandy-O!

Heave a pawl, O heave away! Weigh hey, roll and go! The anchor’s on board an’ the cable’s all stored, To be rollicking randy dandy-O!

Come breast the bars, bullies, heave her away, Weigh hey, roll and go! Soon we’ll be rolling her down through the Bay, To be rollicking randy dandy-O!

The king thrusted vigorously, slamming into her again and again. It was the build up of weeks without her touch and he needed to unleash it all until his head was clear and his heart wasn’t so heavy. Hjalmar curled his hands up her body, moving them around her chest and clamping down so she'd have to stand up with her back pressed into his torso.

His thrusts became more powerful, his manhood buried deeper. His hands ran over her curves and up again, eager to touch every inch of flesh. His forehead pressed to hers with a tenderness he rarely showed. Hjalmar kissed her like it was his last day on earth and touched her as if he’d never known a woman before.

The king slammed into her like a thunder clap, his fingers bunching into her ghostly hair and using it for leverage to keep her against the mast. The other hand gripped her buttocks possessively. “Mmmm,” another grunt, loud and dominant. 

The king arched his back,  rolling in and out like the tide lapping against the beach. Every now and then his gaze wandered to her bandages, mindful of not going overboard. He knew there would be many times in future where he could unleash. This was different, this was deeper, more meaningful. 

“Leave Her Johnny”

(Lyrics from Maxil Lyrics, Contemplator, and Anitra)

O, I thought I heard the Ol’ Man say, Leave her, Johnny, Leave her! Tomorrow ye will get your pay, An’ it’s time for us to leave her!

Leave her, Johnny, leave her, O, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don’t blow, And it’s time for us to leave her!

The wind was foul an’ the sea ran high, Leave her, Johnny, Leave her! She shipped it green an’ none went by, An it’s time for us to leave her!

Leave her, Johnny, leave her, O, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don’t blow, And it’s time for us to leave her!

I hate to sail on this rotten tub, Leave her, Johnny, leave her! No grog allowed an’ rotten grub, An’ it’s time for us to leave her!

Leave her, Johnny, leave her, O, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don’t blow, And it’s time for us to leave her!

We swear by rote for want o’ more, O, leave her, Johnny, leave her! But now we’re through so we’ll go on shore, An’ it’s time for us to leave her!

Leave her, Johnny, leave her, O, leave her, Johnny, leave her! For the voyage is long and the winds don’t blow, And it’s time for us to leave her!

Download this sea shanty here!

Hjalmar was very careful with how he treated her. His arm draped lightly over her shoulder as their lips connected, the path to a brighter future mapped out on the slope of her tongue. When they parted his mouth was left tingling and he immediately wanted to be near her again, to never leave her side. The young man felt her arms around him and he knew he was home.

“'Fraid you’re stuck with me then.” He fixed her with a boyish smile, his dark eyes glinting like the sun refracting off the ocean on a warm, summer day. Hjalmar kissed her again, his free hand slipping beneath her clothes and away from her injuries so he could caress her lower back.

Like she’d done in their previous encounter, she stopped viewing herself as herself, and rather that they were one. Even just by their kiss and his arm around her it invoked that feeling again. She smiled gently into the kiss, relaxing the tensions in her body, relaxing back against him. When he caresses her lower back, she leans to face him and draws her hands across his beard. 

The king wanted her, wanted to show her how much she meant to him. Her injuries were at the back of his mind though he would not hurt her. The most potent healing done in Skellige was to bed the one who sent the wind to guide you safely back to port.

He drank in the sight of her, dark eyes first inspecting her wound and then spreading to her teats, the curve of her hips, the roundness of her naval and the  flat of her stomach. “There’s plenty to look at so I don’t blame you.” His lips curled and he chortled, cupping her cheek with his right hand.

“Aye,” said the king, his voice firm with purpose. “I want to bed you now an’ till the end of my days.” It was as close to romantic as he could manage in their current situation. Hjalmar kissed her quickly, wishing to banish all doubt. His mouth enveloped her until he moved to kiss her breasts, nuzzling the round peaks.

Hjalmar was very careful with how he treated her. His arm draped lightly over her shoulder as their lips connected, the path to a brighter future mapped out on the slope of her tongue. When they parted his mouth was left tingling and he immediately wanted to be near her again, to never leave her side. The young man felt her arms around him and he knew he was home.

“'Fraid you’re stuck with me then.” He fixed her with a boyish smile, his dark eyes glinting like the sun refracting off the ocean on a warm, summer day. Hjalmar kissed her again, his free hand slipping beneath her clothes and away from her injuries so he could caress her lower back.

Like she’d done in their previous encounter, she stopped viewing herself as herself, and rather that they were one. Even just by their kiss and his arm around her it invoked that feeling again. She smiled gently into the kiss, relaxing the tensions in her body, relaxing back against him. When he caresses her lower back, she leans to face him and draws her hands across his beard. 

The king wanted her, wanted to show her how much she meant to him. Her injuries were at the back of his mind though he would not hurt her. The most potent healing done in Skellige was to bed the one who sent the wind to guide you safely back to port.

He drank in the sight of her, dark eyes first inspecting her wound and then spreading to her teats, the curve of her hips, the roundness of her naval and the  flat of her stomach. “There’s plenty to look at so I don’t blame you.” His lips curled and he chortled, cupping her cheek with his right hand.