Title: "A Pirate's Life"
Author: monimala
Fandom: PotC.
Rating/Classification: AC, Jack/Elizabeth/Will, adult situations.
Disclaimer: Aarrrrr! Avast! Disney owns me soul!
Summary: Third story after "Leading Strings" and "What Do You Do With a
Drunken Sailor?" Set after the film finishes.
"You...?" she wondered, rising from the bed and moving to stare out the
porthole, at the calm blue waters of the sea. "You kissed him? You kissed ...you kissed Jack Sparrow?" The words stuck in her throat. Along with the picture in her mind. Her husband...and their captain.
"*You*?" he countered, instead of answering, the sheet falling away, leaving him bare to the waist. Beautiful and earnest. "*You* slept with him? Elizabeth!"
Jack simply leaned against the door frame and chuckled. "Didn't think
*that* was your place, did you, William? Between me and *her*?"
She snapped around, giving both men the coldest of glares. Why, oh why, had Will agreed to honeymoon in Tahiti with Jack at the helm of the Pearl
as their guide? And why...*why* had Jack decided he could avail himself to the main cabin at any time? Specifically in the middle of her wedding night?
But she knew the answer to both questions. She did. She did stupid things, but she was not a stupid woman. Not by any means. For Captain Jack Sparrow, arrogant as all, was correct. Will's place *was* between them.
She tugged her robe more securely around her, aware that they were both glaring back. At her. At each other. But it was far from cold. No...no,
their dark eyes were warm. Enough to make her breath catch and sweat
gather in the hollow between her breasts. "I slept with Jack," she said, softly, as the door swung shut. "When we were stranded. There was rum..."
Jack's laughter was swift, low. "Will here...he kissed me in Tortuga
without any drunken provocation at all. You should try it, Fair Lizzie."
"Shouldn't you be steering the ship?" Will growled, his cheeks growing
flushed. "Instead of interrupting me and my wife?"
"Anamaria's got the wheel. Makes her feel like she's in charge," Jack
confided with a conspiratorial wink and a wave. "Besides...I think you two need me." His eyes were huge... ringed by kohl...exotic and knowing...and she remembered how they'd fixed upon her as she lay in the sand...
She wondered if...no, she *knew*...that he'd looked at Will the same way.
"We don't need you, 'Captain' Jack," Will assured with a touch of mockery as he rose. The candlelight was infinitely flattering to the ripple of his
muscles, the tight curves of his hips, and her body felt liquid, languid...willing her back towards him so they could continue what they'd begun. He slipped an arm around her waist, telling her that she was, for the moment, forgiven for her unwise dalliance, and she kissed his shoulder...telling him the same.
"You know..." Jack began, as if they were engaged in casual parlor
conversation...as if he wasn't stripping his billowing shirt over his head as he spoke. "I can't decide which of you is more uptight." His chest was scarred where Will's was smooth, burnt as dark as his sins. "I mean, 's obvious you both still want me. And who wouldn't...? I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!" She wanted him to be wrong...but her mouth was dry, her hands fumbling with the cords of her robe, loosening them. "William...you need more lessons, Boy. And Lizzie...well...you just need some liquor in you. Makes you much more agreeable, don't you think?"
Liquor? Was that what he called it? "W-will..." She wet her lips with
her tongue, wishing he would say something. Anything. Throw Jack out. End this mad little game. Let the past be the past. Or make it their future.
But before he could take action...or take no action at all...Jack crossed
the room. And his hand was in her hair. Burrowing deep as he yanked her
against him, plundering her mouth with his tongue. Will's arm tightened on
her waist...as if to pull her back...and she was caught between them. Kissing the one...feeling the other's lips forming obscenities against her neck. All of a sudden, she wondered what Jack Sparrow was doing with his other hand...if that was why Will couldn't, wouldn't, move. If that was why he was whispering, "God damn you" and "No" and "Yes."
She moaned and Jack's wicked mouth moved down her throat, to the skin barely covered by the robe that was slipping from her shoulders. Lower. Will curved into her back and... yes... she felt the hand between them. She knew, now, why he cursed so swiftly. That bittersweet push-pull of wanting this madman and hating him. Of craving his touch...and knowing it to be damnation.
They should've hanged him, she thought, hazily. Even though she'd
whispered, "This is wrong" at the time. Even though she'd been unable to tear her eyes away from him as he stood on the gallows and the pounding of her heart had been so great it had nearly burst from her chest.
"Damn you, Jack Sparrow," Will gasped...and Jack crawled back up her body, peeling her robe from her and tossing it aside as he surfaced over her
shoulder and met with Will's lips, swallowing his ineffectual insults.
Almost when it seemed as if her legs would collapse from the friction,
their beards worrying her skin and the delirious heat, they stumbled towards the bed. Jack bodily lifting her, depositing her in the tangle of sheets, as Will rose up behind him.
The ropes of his hair trailed across her skin, the shells and beads making faintly musical sounds to the rhythm of her whimpers as he sank deep. Will's hands covered his on her hips, keeping time. Her ankles beat a staccato rhythm against Will's ass, urging him flush against Jack...so it was as if the two of them were inside her at once. She reared up, catching Will's lips in a kiss, gasping and moaning when Jack speared her straight through to the core.
They needed him. Yes. They needed him.
And he needed them just as much.
This was *their* curse.
Not to be walking dead, unable to feel, to taste, to thirst.
But to be walking alive. Feeling too much, tasting too much, thirsting for more adventure.
For each other.
--end--
July 10, 2003.