Oxygen burns through the walls of her throat as she leans back against the mast, wiping rapidly cooling sweat from her forehead. Morning sunlight collects on the curve of her collarbone and paints gold across her untamed mess of curls, but its faint warmth fails to chase away a creeping chill.

By her side, Dorado slumps against the mast, exhausted. The small cat huffs and puffs, straightening only when his captain peers down at him - chest proudly puffed out and pointy teeth glinting. The image is somewhat tarnished by Dorado's established bedraggled aesthetic, but Skyler still grins and reaches down to ruffle his fur.

"Breakfast?"

Unlike Angelo, Skyler's trek through the apartment is everything but subtle. A jacket is haphazardly thrown onto the couch, sneakers are kicked away at the entrance, and bare feet stomp over wooden floorboards in an unmistakable quest for food that can be heard a mile away.

"Morning, Angel baby..." The words are softer than they have any right to be, hummed against the back of Angelo's neck as two arms encircle his waist. Breathing in, Skyler allows a peaceful sort of contentment to take over. Silently basking in it like a lazy feline in the sun.

At least until her other senses wake up.

"Is that bacon?" Silver eyes peer down over Angelo's shoulder, mouth already salivating.

angelo vestri

☉

Dorado hisses at Angelo, fur fluffing up in feline irritation as his perfect morning is ruined by the pilot’s presence. His claws might remain sheathed, but golden eyes glare murder at the captain-stealing menace.

Tail whipping violently from side to side, he hops onto the closest chair-

-waiting for the Sotally Tober’s cook to make one mistake.

In the meanwhile, Skyler frowns down at the miserably empty pan. Angelo would be able to feel her muscles tense behind him, a prelude to whatever harebrained scheme she’s probably concocting.

"Fight, hm?" It should come as no surprise that Skyler doesn’t sound entirely displeased about the prospect. Perhaps a little too eager in fact, as a frisson of excitement sneaks into her voice. "Might as well give me all the bacon now, Angel." Words are deliberately drawn out against the shell of her husband’s ear, followed by a tantalizing rasp of teeth.

While her hand sneaks into the pan, uncaring for the sizzling heat, and attempts to steal one of the slices of bacon for herself.

angelo vestri

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Angelo's alarm proves proves to be faster than her thieving ways, and the pan is snatched from under her sneaky fingers before she can escape with her tasty prize. He knows her too well, elbow reaching out to stop her from following after the bacon, which she does. Obviously.

Unbidden, a frustrated growl slips past her lips.

"Give me the bacon and no one gets hurt." Her smile does resemble something suspiciously close to feral, eyes glinting with equal parts amusement and a feverish thrill at the challenge he purrs her way. Each press of his fingertips on her wrist is like an electric current, travelling down her arm to feed into a low-simmering warmth.

Deliciously addictive.

So, of course, Skyler doesn't back down. Running her tongue along her bottom lip, the captain takes a step forward instead - slightly nudging into the space between Angelo's legs. "That's an invitation, Angel." It isn't poised like a question. It isn't meant to be. 

"You've seen me cook - and you think that would take me down?" Somehow, bacon becomes lower on her list of priorities as a hand slips down to linger just above the waist band of Angelo's jeans. A calloused digit slipping in to drag over the surface of the pilot's skin. 

And then her stomach makes itself known with a low rumble that cuts through the building tension.

angelo vestri

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"Famished," Skyler replies.

She allows Angelo to tuck her against his side, silently relishing in the intimate closeness. Her arm sneaks around his waist, fingers casually dipping lower to where they can draw patterns on the skin above his hip, lazy-like. A remnant of electric tension lingers just under the surface, and Skyler is all too eager to feed it.

She can still feel Angelo's nails digging into the dip of her waist, the lustful darkening of cerulean eyes. Just because she's been distracted by one type of hunger doesn't mean she's forgotten the other.

Bacon sizzles invitingly on the pan, and Skyler idly looks around for- ah, coffee.

The mug rests on the countertop, steam waffling out of it to mix with the scent of cooking meat. Angelo's, no doubt. Shifting slightly, Skyler peers into the half-drunken contents before shamelessly reaching out and claiming it as her own.

Calloused digits descend past the waist band of Angelo's jeans, nails dragging feather-light over the flesh there. Leisurely retreating. Coming back. 

Skyler takes a sip of the coffee, lips parting in a pleased sigh. She'd never admit to it, much less to Angelo, but she'd kill for this coffee... For this whole breakfast, actually.

"Arceus, I needed this..."

angelo vestri

☉

Skyler offers no resistance when Angelo reaches for the mug, willingly parting with it if only because it'd technically been his to begin with. Most of the coffee was already gone, anyway.

Half of her mind lingers on the path he carves up the back of her neck, meandering fingertips teasing a shiver out of her. Eyes flutter. Her head tilts ever so slightly to the side, seeking more. A withheld breath is softly released, adding onto the growing awareness between the two of them - a silent, yet unashamed admission. 

If not for the bacon, she'd like to think that she would've already coaxed him into the bedroom. Or to the sofa. Or the countertop. It was closest.

And as Angelo squeezes the back of her neck and her nails sink greedily into the flesh of his hip, the possibility becomes increasingly more tempting. Bacon or no bacon.

"Huh? What?" Angelo's words register just enough for the captain to make sense of them, eyes blinking away a pleasant haze to focus on a sharp, familiar profile. Suspicion takes the form of narrowed eyes as Skyler hones in on the pilot's expression - or lack thereof. But it's a relentless sort of curiosity that ultimately draws her in.

"You better not be swindling me, Angel." The threat has no bite, not really, not when a wolfish eagerness curls the edge of her mouth. "Come on then, let's hear it."

angelo vestri

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“Never. You're getting off easy, really.”

Skyler doesn't trust a single syllable of that sentence, especially when paired by an impish curl of tempting lips that hover just close enough to draw the captain's eyes, darkened silver tracing their edges hungrily. Before she can follow through, however, Angelo untangles himself from her.

Skyler seizes the chance to hoist herself up, plopping her butt down onto the counter and acquiring a few inches in the process.

"Thanks, Sammy. You're the best." Hers and the Gulpin's relationship is bumpy at best, so the captain does her best to make up for the disasters that inevitably explode in the kitchen by being extra nice on the days she isn't in a cooking mood. Which, thankfully, are most of them. 

The smell of cooking bacon waffles through the kitchen, rich and decadent. Hunger claws its way through her stomach, so when Angelo lays down his ridiculous terms she's mostly ammenable to pretty much everything. Just give her the food.

And then he asks her to say please.

Her mouth, which had been parted to offer a counter proposal, shuts so fast Angelo can probably hear the sound of gritting teeth. Stubborn refusal wells up like a rising tide, reflected in a furious flash of silver. And her lips remain stubbornly closed.

The first sign of trouble is the way her muscles relax. The second, the almost languid way she turns to look at Angelo, a wicked edge to the curl of her mouth. And the third is when she hooks a finger around his collar to bring him closer, sun-kissed legs casually framing his hips. 

Her breath shivers along the line of his jaw. And when the please falls from her lips, it's the sound of a plea best suited to the throes of passion, a breathy whisper that summons the images of intertwined bodies lost in each other.

Skyler leans back, triumph and challenge warring in the tilt of her chin as if to say: Oh, is this what you wanted?

What are you going to do with it?

angelo vestri

☉

She'd stepped into this unspoken dance with the full knowledge that they would become irreparably tangled in it. That the bacon would turn to charcoal before they found themselves sated. That breakfast would find itself a very distant second to hungry kisses and the sound of hushed, desperate pleas.

Increasingly so as blunt nails sink a promise into the flesh of her thighs, dragging her back to the edge where Angelo waits with challenge-laced words that rasp, tempting, against the side of her throat.

And Skyler had never been one to back down from those. Or to play by the rules, hers or otherwise.

Digits sneak under his shirt, nails drawing a possessive path up a muscled, scar-ridden back. Bringing him closer to the involuntary arch of her back. 

Rationality hangs on by a thread, reduced to the feverish tempo of her heartbeat in her ears.

Her legs tighten their hold around Angelo's hips just as nails reach past the back of his neck to find purchase in short strands of brown. 

Silver flashes dangerously, and her hand closes into a fist. Holding tightly, unhurried, as the grip pulls him closer so that her next words are languidly whispered against his lips. A ragged plea.

"Please, Angel baby..." She can taste him on her words, endlessly alluring. Unfettered. Dangerous. Loving. Hers.

There's a brief flash of sharp teeth before she finishes her sentence.

"... Give me my fucking breakfast."

angelo vestri

☉