Dulce: 10 – A Shy Kiss

itshigh-boop:

Another installment of Dulce that I really enjoyed working on. Thought I’d post it here – I really liked Sombra and McCree in this, their sass makes me laugh. 🤣
Ao3 – Chapter | Story
Tags: AU – 16th century era, kidnapping

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“Surely you’re aware of the sort of tyrant the Marquess truly is?”

Sombra scoffs. She’s tired, hungry, and aching. But mostly, she’s just angry. At the situation, at her life, at her uncle, and the man now questioning her. She has no patience left to be polite. “Yes. And if you were half as knowledgeable as you think you are, O Mighty Bandit King, you wouldn’t be keeping me hostage.”

The legendary bandit lets out a laugh, a hearty sound full of mischief, no doubt a trait that has gotten him this far since boyhood. “Oh? And why’s that, My Lady?”

“He won’t give you a single copper coin for me.” Sombra’s aware that she’s essentially making herself expendable to a lawless thief but anger has a way of loosening even the most tightly sealed mouth. When his grin drops, she gives one of her own. “Really, his carriage and horses you sent off with the coachman to inform him were worth more to my uncle than I’ll ever be.”

He approaches her, causing Sombra to step back until her spine meets the trunk of a tree and the bandit looms over her, letting his arm rest over her head and pinning her to the spot.

“You speak so freely. Do familial loyalties mean nothing to you, girl?”

She snorts and gives a hard shrug. She knows the sound is unladylike but she really couldn’t care less at the moment. “Why be loyal to a tyrant? Even if he does happen to be your uncle.”

A smirk slowly spreads across his face. A breathy chuckle escapes his throat. He lifts a hand to the thick drape of dark hair resting on her right shoulder, his fingers gingerly toying with one soft lock. “Heavens, but you are a pretty one,” he says, voice low and amused.

“Say that to my face, bandit, not my hair.”

Earth-brown eyes move up to meet hers and Sombra has time to take inventory of his face. He’s rugged, alright, perhaps what many women, even of court, consider ‘dark’ and ‘handsome’. For a criminal, he’s not the worst thing she could imagine. Her musings are interrupted when he presses closer.

“Pretty thing, you do realize with your confession, you are of no value to me?”

The words still sting, even though this is something she’s known and accepted her entire life. She licks her lips in thought. “It wouldn’t be the first time I was worthless to someone, bandit.”

She catches sight of his eyes following her tongue’s trail over her lips.

“Your life is in my hands now.” The bandit speaks slowly, as if this is a statement he’s barely processing. “To do with as I see fit. Does the idea not frighten you?”

His head moves in closer and Sombra sighs, passing him a look that she hopes conveys her level of exhaustion. “My life is no one’s but my own and the only thing I have left. Would it make you happy to take it, as you surely do everything else?”

The silence between them is almost enough to have her sleeping against the tree behind her until he barks a laugh, startling and confusing her.

“Are all women of court as cheeky as you are?” he asks, chuckles still seeping into his question.

“The trick is to catch them when they’re as tired, hungry, and angry as I am,” Sombra says, voice even and still devoid of any true humor.

It seems enough for the bandit, whose head is now hanging and his broad shoulders tremble with silent shakes of laughter. Just as she’s about to ask if she can start wandering off, he lifts his head, looking over his shoulder.

“Ready the horses, men!” he shouts to his group of thieves in the distance. As they begin moving, leading their horses back to the main road, the Bandit King turns back toward her. “It seems I was mistaken, My Lady.”

Sombra doesn’t understand, eyebrows pinched in confusion; she has no energy left to pretend to care too much. “About?”

“You’re worth far more than any bauble your uncle would toss my way.”

She shifts uncomfortably in place, wondering exactly what he’s insinuating by such a comment. “You’re keeping me?” Before he can answer, she groans, head rolling back to thump against the bark of the tree. “And just when I thought I would finally have some sort of peace.”

He laughs again and steps away, beginning to head toward the others. He doesn’t seem at all concerned that she may or may not be following him. Perhaps he recognizes her intelligence and says nothing as she lets out another sigh, pushing herself off the tree and walking after him, knowing better than to attempt to outrun armed men on horses, let alone the legendary Bandit King himself. But even beyond all that, he entertains her, and she is sure that he wishes to keep her for the same reason.

When they approach his horse, he helps her up, settling himself behind her. “My men won’t harm you,” he tells her, voice alarmingly soothing in her ear as he urges the horse into a trot toward the front of the group.

She rolls her eyes, passing him a look over her shoulder. “Is it them I should really be worried about, bandit?”

“Are you questioning my honor, good Lady Oli-”

She intercepts him, effectively shushing him as she turns and presses a finger tight to his lips. His eyes cross over, staring at her finger and the sight is almost comical until his eyes focus back on her. “I won’t call your honor into question ever again as long as you don’t utter that name.” She shudders. To think that despite her and her uncles estranged relationship, he still has enough influence that complete strangers, including bandits, would know her by name.

He quirks an eyebrow at her, smirking against her finger. “And enough with this ‘My Lady’, nonsense. You’re no member of the court,” she huffs, removing her finger. “You will address me as Sombra.”

“Oh, as you wish,” he says, humming in amusement. “Bandit King McCree is at your service.”

Sombra has a quip prepared about his so called ‘title’ when she feels him take her hand, watching with widened eyes as he lifts the back of it to his lips, pressing a lingering kiss to her skin.

“What’s the matter? You’re all flushed,” McCree states with a grin, and Sombra realizes she feels the burning sensation prickling at her neck and cheeks. “Come now, so bashful over a simple gesture?”

No. If she’s going to spend time with this ruffian and his goons, then she will not be made to look weak. “You idiot,” she mumbles.

“Idiot?” he repeats, sounding truly appalled at the less than polite name.

“I’m flushed with embarrassment over your terrible manners.” She presses her fingers to her forehead, closing her eyes and shaking her head. “You only kiss a lady’s hand if she offers it to you. Even then, you kiss the air above it, you uncultured pick-pocket.” She refuses to acknowledge the warm shocks that his kiss sent through her body.

She hears his men laugh behind them and McCree turns to regard them, more than likely with a look of warning. When he turns back, he’s a bit flushed himself but that same infuriating and alarmingly charming grin is still on his face. “I suppose I should consider it great luck that such a cultured member of court will be with me to teach my men and I proper etiquette,” he muses. “I’d hate to appear so uncouth on my next raid.”

Sombra misses her chance to reply as McCree sends his horse into a gallop and the thunderous sound of hooves hitting the dirt road is all that fills the air. When his arms enclose around her, a wave of emotions flare through her mind. She knows that this is still essentially a kidnapping but she has a feeling that perhaps freedom, should she desire it, is not as far off a reality as the situation deems it. Spending most of her life with her only family reinforcing her worthlessness to him, the arms that supposedly imprison her have her feeling the safest she has in quite some time.