This is the first chapter of a steampunk erotica I'm writing for my SO. I'm looking for some feedback if that's okay.

Just to give everyone the heads up: the sex in this chapter is very light (there's only some guy on girl oral) because I'm intending on things heating up further into the novel.

Angelica Wilson-Smythe watched the setting sun stain the clouds with vivid streaks of pink and orange. Even through her amber goggles, she had to narrow her grey eyes against the glare. Her blonde hair became burnished copper, matching the decking and tubes snaking through the vast zeppelin BRS Valiant.

She closed her eyes and wished, not for the first time, that the Council of Masters hadn’t selected her for this expedition. They had their reasons, she was sure, but whatever portents they had read were beyond her ken: her meditations had shown nothing but fire and devastation in her future.

Regardless, the Masters wouldn’t have entrusted this to her if they didn’t think her capable. She opened her eyes and sighed, letting as much tension bleed from her body as possible.

The hair on the back of her neck rose, the Other Realm warning her someone was focussed on her. She concentrated on the sensation, trying to determine what the message she was being sent from the ether. Along lines of energy - the zeppelin’s and the crew’s - her mind danced until she found her target: a young sky-sailor bustling down the corridor towards her. His nervousness stained the Other Realm around him, pulsing in deep reds and oranges. At least there was someone aboard this vessel more nervous than her.

The sky-sailor’s bootheels clicked together behind her. “Ambassador?”

Angelica turned, lifting her goggles onto the rim of her bowler hat. Her black ruffled skirt swept the deck as she faced the young sky-sailor. He averted his eyes from her delicate features. “Captain Walker requests your presence in his chambers, my lady.”

Walker would summon her but for one reason. Well, two reasons, but Angelica wasn’t sure her erstwhile lover was likely to be thinking about the second reason, not when they were flying into a warzone.

She nodded at the sky-sailor. “Thank you, handsome,” she said, her voice satin-soft betraying nothing. She was a knight-bachelorette: it wouldn't do for the commoners to think she had doubts. The young man blushed and fled before she could compliment him further. She followed, allowing herself a small smile: she might be approaching thirty and unmarried, but she could still turn it on when she wanted.

The sky-sailor led her to Captain Walker’s inner sanctum two decks below. To avoid thinking about the mission ahead of her, Angelica studied the young man’s backside, tracing the muscles beneath the blue overalls. She came out her reverie when the sky-sailor snapped to attention at the Captain’s door. He reached a hand to turn the wheel-lock, but Angelica cleared her throat pointedly. The young man spun, his face a study of confusion. “My lady?” he stammered, clearly unsure what she wanted.

“How do I look?” she asked, straightening her brown militaristic half-jacket and accentuating her full breasts. The young man’s mouth worked silently. Angelica nodded as if he’d given a full critique of her outfit. “That’s what I was hoping for.” She gestured at the door: “Open it.”

The sky-sailor turned the wheel, leaving sweaty prints on the bare metal. Angelica drew herself to her full height and marched into the captain’s quarters.

Captain Walker, a slim man with a grey-flecked beard, sat behind a huge desk. The drab overalls he wore were purely symbolic: Angelica doubted he’d been near a greasy engine in years. But where some sky-captains had allowed themselves to grow fat, Walker strived to keep his body strong. He looked up from his journal, the white quill in his hand dripping ink onto the page. “Ambassador,” he said with formality.

“Captain,” Angelica replied with equal stiffness as she strode to the desk. Bronze compasses and protractors lay scattered on a yellowed map of the world, catching the gaslight. Behind her, the young sky-sailor hauled the thick door shut. Her ears popped with the sudden change in pressure.

Walker stood, placing his ledger and quill on the map. He came around to her side of the desk. The heels of her long boots lifted Angelica to be look him in the eye. “We’re nearly there, Angie,” he said, tapping a gloved finger at a spot on the map.

She didn't need to look to know where he was pointing: the Bay of Reticulum which the Imperialist forces were blockading. And the Masters wanted her to negotiate peace.... “How long have I got?” she asked, staring straight ahead.

Walker raised an eyebrow at her tone. “You sound like a condemned woman.” He started to smile but stopped when he saw her severe expression. He put a hand on her shoulder. She drew strength from the contact, swallowing the mounting fear. The Captain squeezed her gently. “We’ll be there in the morning. It’s alright, Angie. Those bloody Imperialists aren’t going to do a damned thing. You’re a knight, for God’s sake. They’ll take one look at you, realise the Senate and the Council aren’t pissing about and call an end to this nonsense.”

Angelica snorted with derision. “It’s not like the fate of the entire western Republic is depending on me or anything, Michael.” Her pale eyes locked with his dark gaze. “I’m not a diplomat: I’ve always been better with this,” she said, tapping the dagger on her hip.

Walker glanced down and nodded, eyes widening. Angelica shook her head: she forgot that to see one of the Shards wasn’t a common experience. The dagger was little more than a pocketknife really, one of eighteen such blades that had been formed from the legendary Sword of Light, Claiomh Solais. But the marbled steel was imbued with the energies of the Other Realm and when wielded by one trained in manipulation of that ethereal plane, it became more than mere metal: the blade became fire incarnate.

Shard XV, along with the engraved pistol on her other hip, were Angelica’s badges of office, marking her as an Other and a Knight-Bachelorette of the British Republic.

She tilted the Captain’s face to her. His beard rasped against her slender fingers. “I’m not a negotiator. It should be Liam here: he knows how to talk politics.”

Walker cupped her cheek, his fingers burying into her hair. “Liam’s a soft touch. You’re here because you’re not. You’re not going to listen to any of their horseshit, and that’s what’s going to end this blockade.”

Angelica brought her face closer, their lips almost touching. “You’ll come get me if things get out of hand?” she whispered, as if giving volume to her fear would give it power.

“Just like in Alexandria,” he promised.

She kissed him, his beard soft against her skin. He pulled her hat from her head, sending her blonde locks cascading down her back. Their lips met again, their tongues darting to meet. Her fingers deftly unbuttoned his overalls and as he hauled his arms free of the sleeves, she uncinched her weapon belts. She caught Shard XV and the pistol and placed them reverentially on a cushioned chair.

Walker untied her neckerchief as he kissed down her jawline. A ripple of excited gooseflesh ran down Angelica’s spine and a soft, eager moan escaped her. She kissed the sky-captain again, savouring the musky scent of him.

When they paused for breath, Walker guided her to the desk. Angelica pushed aside the various brass instruments and sat atop the map. The Captain showered her face with soft, feather-light pecks, moving his way down her body. He unfastened her jacket, revealing her corsetry. He kissed the swell of her constrained breasts, eliciting another moan. Beneath the fabric, her nipples stiffened.

Angelica leant back, exposing as much of her pale skin as she could to Walker’s ministrations. She ran her fingers through his silver-streaked hair and pushed him lower. Needing no further encouragement, he knelt before her. She hitched her skirt up. His warm breath set her smooth, stocking-clad legs ablaze: she spread them, granting him the intimate access they both desired.

Her underwear was a small black thong. The thin strip of cotton was all that separated Walker from her centre. A wicked glimmer flashed in his eye and the Captain ran a finger down the length of her covered sex, his free hand holding her legs apart. Angelica squirmed, relishing the sensation of his strong, leather-clad hands on her bare thighs.

He teased her again and again. His fingers pressed against her, tracing the lines of her moistening folds. “Michael,” she panted in frustration. Smiling, the Captain hooked his fingers under her thong and pulled, exposing the narrow strip of hair above Angelica’s slit.

The smell of her juices filled the air, sending Walker wild. With long, broad strokes, he licked her once, twice, three times. She bucked, pushing his tongue against her. He lapped her outer lips, delivering expert strokes with his tongue.

She balled her fingers in his hair. He shifted position to suck on the nub at the top of her womanhood. A gloved finger slipped inside her welcoming tunnel, questing for her hidden spot. A low moan escaped her: Walker quickened his pace, his skilled tongue seemingly touching every part of her.

Angelica felt her release building. With one hand, she squeezed her breasts and the other gripped Walker’s salt-and-pepper locks. His first finger was joined by a second, stretching her wide.

Her breath came fast and shallow, her chest heaving. Her conscious mind opened to the Other Realm, letting the lust-filled waves rolling off the sky-captain enhance her own impending climax. In his pulsing aura, she saw clearly what he wanted to do, how he wanted to take her: she felt the throb of his erection as if it was already nestled in place within her. Her hands became tight fists. Her toes curled in her boots. She thrust her hips forward, driving Walker’s finger deeper inside her. “Fuck!” she gasped as her body shook uncontrollably. She writhed, but Walker kept his fingers working their magic and lapped her flowing juices. “Fuck!” she cried, her voice ringing around the chamber.

The tension she’d been feeling since stepping aboard the Valiant evaporated into the Other Realm, dissipating like mist under the morning sun.

She pushed him away, her entire body too sensitive to let him continue. Her legs shuddered as the waves gradually decreased in intensity. She lay back on the map, heedless of any instruments under her and fought for her breath.

Walker stood and sucked her nectar from his gloved fingers. With a flourish, he drew a scarlet handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed his face dry, looking altogether like he had just finished an exquisite meal. Angelica laughed at the image. “What?” Walker asked, frowning.

She shook her head and extended a hand to him. “It’s nothing,” she said as he helped her onto her shaky legs. She kissed his bearded cheek and gripped his stiffness through his overalls. “Your turn.”

He took hold of her wrist and drew her hand away. “Not today. I did that because you needed it. We can finish this tomorrow, after you’re back aboard and we’re on our way home.” He leant closer: she could smell her own scent mixing with his. “It gives you a reason to come back, doesn’t it?”

Angelica trailed her fingertips along his jaw. “One of these days, you’re going to make me marry you.” She spun away on her toes, her skirt rising up to give him another view of her long legs, and kicked her underwear off from around her ankle.

Walker snatched the thong out the air and put it to his lips. She laughed again, shaking her head at the sky-captain’s vulgarity. She picked her weapon belts up and fastened them cross-wise around her waist. The weight of Shard XV on her hips brought the reality of the situation back to her. “I need to meditate,” she said in a forlorn voice, shrugging her jacket on.

The sky-captain closed the gap between them in a single step. He embraced her, wrapping his arms around her narrow waist and drawing her to him. “You’ll be fine, Angie,” he whispered in her ear. “They’re not going to do anything stupid enough to lead to open war. And even if they do…” He pulled back, holding her at arm’s length and jerked his chin towards the ornate rifle hanging on the bulkhead. “I’ll keep an eye on you with the long-shot.”

Angelica glanced at the long-barrelled gun, remembering the incredible noise it made. She’d seen Walker use it with a skill that could be matched only by an Other - say, for example, a knight-bachelorette.

She laid a hand flat against his chest and nodded. “I need to meditate,” she repeated, with confidence this time. Whatever happened, the Other Realm would guide her: of that she no doubt.

She left him with her underwear as a promise of things to come. In a petty demonstration of her control over the Other Realm, she waved a hand at the wheel-lock. It spun quickly and, with another wave of her hand, the door swung open. She stepped out into the corridor where the young sky-sailor waited. By the colour rising in his cheeks and the images filling the Other Realm around him, there was no mistaking what he’d heard.

“C’mon, handsome,” she said with a smirk, “you can walk me to my quarters.”