The Providence is full-sail, flying across the water towards the nearest port for fresh supplies so they can continue their journey. There is not much to do with the wind so strong in their sails but have Gunnar steer straight and true and Anwar keep check of the maps.

Nala is safely stowed away in her cabin when night falls, and Cook is fast asleep in his hammock after slaving over dinner. Gunnar and Anwar tell Rina they will be alright to keep the ship on course for a few more hours, and then she and Sinbad can relieve them for the morning.

It gives her plenty of time to accomplish what she wants to– no, what she needs to do.

She is barefoot as she crosses the moonlit deck and descends into the galley, turning her head to check Cook is still fast asleep in his lightly swinging hammock under the stairs. He begins to snore, and she grins.

She makes her way down the ship as quiet as a mouse and as sly as a fox, making sure to check that there is no light to be seen underneath Nala's door. All is well.

It is dark and quiet as she approaches the stern store room Sinbad likes to frequent, when he thinks no one is looking. But Rina is always looking, always alert, and so painfully attuned to Sinbad.

The ship creaks as it cuts through the sea, but the sounds are unobtrusive to her now. She is only interested in the deep, lazy humming she can hear behind the door of the store room.

Breathing deep and smoothing a hand down her cleanest dress, she pushes the door open without a sound.

Dark, amber eyes, surrounded by black kohl, immediately find her through a plume of gentle, grey smoke.

Sinbad grins around the pipe between his lips from where he is sat on a barrel. "Don't tell Cook. He thinks I'll burn down the ship."

Rina gives him a smile, but says nothing, closing the door behind her and taking a seat on a barrel beside Sinbad. He looks at her through the smoke escaping his mouth, one of his black, straggly curls falling in his face as he does so.

He passes her the pipe, and she takes it with murmured thanks. One long draw and smooth exhale later, Rina feels her shoulders lower in relaxation and her want increase beyond belief.

She can smell him, salt and warmth and musk, and she can taste him on her lips from the pipe, along with the apple he had after dinner.

She turns to him and passes the pipe back. He takes it and knocks out the embers from the chamber on the lid of the barrel, before crushing their smouldering with the heel of his hand.

Rina places her fingers over his. He looks up, but he does not shy away.

He's always like this, she thinks, so bold and unafraid, and it's a good thing she's just as fierce or she'd never be able to keep up.

"I was wondering," she says, her thumb stroking his, "if I kissed you, would there be anyone to be angry at me?"

The corner of his mouth curled upwards. "It's not like the women of Basra were lining up for me."

She laughs, because she knows that with looks like his, he must have broken at least a few hearts and stolen a few others.

But she still has to ask, because, whether she likes it or not, she is part of the crew and the crew has become more of a family. Despite her need for Sinbad, there is no sense in breaking apart her new home.

"What about Nala?"

His eyebrows rise. "Nala, really? Is that what everyone thinks?"

Rina shrugs.

"I stole from her and her father in Basra – that's how we know each other – and now...well, we've got some kind of tentative friendship, but she's more like a cousin or a sister than anything else."

With his explanation over, she leans in and kisses his lips. They're soft, softer than any man's lips have a right to be, and they are welcoming.

His warm hand, rough from life on the streets, slides up her arm, as his other touches her bare knee, thumb caressing the hem of her dress.

Rina smiles against his mouth at his almost tentative touches, and breaks the kiss.

"You don't need to be gentle with me," she says.

She slips off of her barrel and grabs Sinbad's hand, pulling him over to a solid crate covered with a spare blanket. She only sees his frown when she is comfortably sat upon the box, looking up into his eyes.

Sinbad strokes his hands up the outside of her thighs, before placing them behind her on the top of the crate and leaning in close. His expression is truthful, his eyes sincere.

"You deserve someone to be gentle with you," he tells her, lips so close to hers. "I might not be the best one to show you, but I promise I'll look after you. I won't treat you badly."

With that, he closes that tiny gap between his lips and hers and he kisses her, soft and warm. It makes her moan and arch into his touch as his hands slide up her back, searching and feeling.

His fingers tangle in the laces at the back of her dress, and Rina pulls back, just enough so they share their heated breaths and she can look straight into his heavily-lidded eyes.

He smiles, almost lazily, like she's given him a taste of some wonderful drug, and it makes her laugh as she kisses him again, harder. Her laughter turns into longer, deeper noises at his touch, and his fingers, that had been so tentatively quizzical on her knees and the laces of her dress, tug at her fastenings.

"Be gentle, if you must." She grins against his lips, breathless. "But do hurry up."

Sinbad laughs lowly against her mouth as he kisses her again, but this time his lips pry at hers and the wonderful velvet warmth of his tongue searches for something to meet it. She is all too happy to comply, curling her fingers at the nape of his neck and meeting his tongue with her own.

His fingers work the back of her dress open, and then they are beneath the thin material, sliding hotly down her spine, sending warmth into her belly and shivers through her delicate frame.

"Turnabout is fair play," Rina mutters against his lips, tugging at his long white shirt.

Sinbad leaves her for as long as it takes to pull his shirt over his head and throw it across the room, then he is with her again, touching her and kissing her and driving her crazy.

Her fingertips dig into his shoulders, his muscled arms, his toned stomach...

He gasps into their kiss when her deft fingers explore beneath his belt, sliding through the silky hairs there until she reaches that aching part of him that seems to jump at her touch.

"Let me undress you," Sinbad says huskily, sliding his hands up her thighs.

She pulls back, instantly missing the warmth and the closeness, but Sinbad's hands allow Rina to forget all that, smoothing over her skin, dark on light, pushing up the skirt of her dress.

She lifts her arms and then the patterned garment is off by Sinbad's hands, across the room with his shirt, and she sits panting, her thighs parted, in only a small scrap of lace underwear that she stole from Nala the week before.

His hair falls about his face as he looks down, chin tilted, to watch his own fingers climb her soft, pale thighs, parting them further and exploring every inch along the trail he blazes to her apex.

Rina shifts restlessly. "Please, Sinbad."

His smile, as he glances back up, is sinful. His fingers slide beneath the soft lace and directly over her sex, finding her wet and needy.

He groans. Rina gasps.

Sinbad's mouth climbs her neck and maps her shoulder, kissing and biting and soothing. His talented fingers bring her to an excruciating crescendo within moments.

He gazes down at her pleasure-flushed face, his eyes burning, as he simultaneously removes her lace and his belt. His breeches fall around his feet and he kicks them off, leaving Rina to gaze down at his impressive size. She's had large men before, both in stature and manhood, but Sinbad dismisses them all.

She takes the rigid length of his slightly curved cock into her hand and strokes. Sinbad acts as if she's lassoed him, jerking forwards with a restrained groan as he grits his teeth.

Her hand can barely fit around him, but it makes no matter, because Rina is small to most men, and she has found many ways to deal with their pleasure as well as her own.

She licks her palm, wetting it, before taking him in hand again as she slips off of the box to stand on her feet. Sinbad's expression is confused and lustful, and the twist of his mouth and the dent between his eyebrows makes her flush hotly. He is solely focussed on her.

Rina turns, letting him go, and bends over the crate, planting her hands firmly and gripping the farthest edge as she spreads her thighs and arches her back.

Sinbad's hand traces her spine. She can feel him moving in closer behind her, the insistent pressure of his manhood against the inside of her thigh sending her desire spiralling upwards.

"Do as I say," she breathes as his mouth caresses her shoulder, his body covering hers.

"Anything," he mutters into her skin.

"You need to be slick." He groans at her words. "I'm wet enough for the both of us."

She can feel the tip of him poised at her entrance, and she reaches back to grasp him. She shows him what she means, leveraging herself to slide his length through her folds. The friction's so sweet that she shakes and trembles, and she's so wet that he is ready from the rocking of her hips within moments.

Rina grins over her shoulder at him. "Now."

Slowly, his shoulders tensing, he presses into her soft folds, finding her so easily and groaning as his cock sinks into her.

And then, like a flash, she pulls her legs tightly together, trapping his pulsing length between her soft thighs.

The strangled noise he makes tells her it's like nothing he's ever felt before, and she laughs even as she trembles from her lust.

"You're bigger than I thought," she says. "This will feel much better like this for the both of us."

Slowly, tentatively, Sinbad rocks his hips, and with the slickness along his manhood and between her thighs, he slides so easily into her, the entirety of his cock surrounded by warm, wet flesh.

He thinks of the local girls in Basra that he has had before, none of them being able to take his full length and always leaving him with only the least amount of satisfaction. Trust it to be Rina, the thief after his own heart, who gives him everything.

The new sensations and familiar unfurling heat in his belly ensure that he finishes quickly and immensely, panting and apologising in soft utterances as he makes sure, even in his haze, to bring Rina to the same pleasure he's just experienced.

It is satisfying watching her collapse beneath him, feeling her pulse around his cock, and he kisses her back as he lets her ride out her own wave of bliss.

She's left him aching in the most pleasant of ways, and he doesn't think he has ever come so hard that he's temporarily lost his sight before. Rina has given him a night of firsts, and her soft, creamy skin entices him to continue the night well into the morning.

But, for now, they must sleep.

Sinbad reluctantly parts from her to see to putting up a hammock across the room. When he is done, the ties secure, he bundles the both of them into the soft, swinging bed, and lets Rina curl her warm, naked body around his.

Her eyes are shut, and her mind is full of pleasant things as she lays her ear to Sinbad's chest.

"They will come looking for us soon. We need to take over the helm before morning," she mumbles.

Sinbad's noise of agreement rumbles against her ear. "Get some sleep. I'll wake you."

He tucks a lock of her cropped, reddish hair behind her ear, and she smiles.

"I haven't had enough," she says, and Sinbad laughs.

"How do you feel about a little exhibitionism when it's just the two of us at the helm?" He asks, and Rina laughs at his idea even as she begins to drift. "The seas are calm, the ship is true, and I understand that the table up there is sturdy..."

Author's note: Okay, so, yeah, I love the idea of Rina/Sinbad, because I love them both separately and I just feel like they're the same person. They've both had it rough living on the streets, and they're both cheeky thieves of the highest degree. So, why not write some shameless mid-season smut about them? Thanks for reading!