Title: "An Act of Piracy" 1/1
Fandom: POTC: Dead Man's Chest
Rating/Classification: AC, Jack/Elizabeth, adult situations, futurefic.
Disclaimer: Arrr, avast, they belong to The Mouse.
Summary: "Don't you hate me, Jack? Don't you want revenge?" 700 words. Set some time after DMC ends.
"D'you know, Love?" he whispers, pinioning her arms above her head, locking the shackles firmly about her wrists. "D'you know how it feels to be locked up?"
"Y-yes," she gasps even as he shakes his head, tongue clicking "tsk, tsk," against hers and, oh, God, he still tastes of sweetness, of liquor and smoke. He flattens her against the mast, where she had so thoughtfully -- thoughtlessly, and they both know it -- trapped him all those months before. He demands comeuppance, reparation, and he takes it with the simplest act of piracy: with his lips against hers and his knee forcing its way between her thighs.
"Have you smelled a Kraken's breath, Lizzie?" he wonders, even as he blows cool air against her neck, licks the hollow of her throat. "Ever stood between its teeth and been swallowed whole?"
"N-no. Not lately…"
"It's not something I'd recommend…"
She opens her mouth for the worst of his kisses…not bruising, not punishing, but painstakingly gentle. He navigates her like his first lover, his best lover, the sea. Until she's weeping with the tenderness of it, the complete un-Jack Sparrow-ness of him knuckling aside the ties of her shirt and stroking the undersides of her breasts.
"Don't you hate me, Jack? Don't you want revenge?" she gasps as he leaves her lips be and travels south. His hands close around her waist, keep her still as he nuzzles her nipples in a way that is anything but decent. Just like the two of them. Anything but decent. Anything but right. Binding each other, here on the deck of the ravaged Black Pearl.
"What do you think this is? Tea party?" His mustache tickles her skin. The beads tied in his hair, too. Her arms are already aching from being held aloft and her wrists chafe against the rusty manacles. "You turned on me, Love. And I aim to turn on you…or do I have that all muddled up?" He chuckles and she couldn't correct his dreadful grammar if her life depended on it.
Thankfully -- or, perhaps, thanklessly -- her life depends on other things.
On what comes next.
"D'you know what it's like to be eaten alive?"
"Well, keep your shirt on…or not."
He rips it apart, the meager buttons go every which way, and her arms finally fall because she cannot take it any longer. They close around his neck, her wrists resting at the back of his head and her fingers threading through the knots of his hair.
He unbuckles her breeches, gets inside them with ease -- probably because he's used to doing it, and in more ways than one. She's felt the uncomfortable heat, this dampness and need, before, but never like this…never so sharp, and so close. And never with…
"Will can't satisfy you, Lizzie. He's a eunuch, you know."
She chokes both protests and laughter against his jaw as he sinks deep into her. Where it hurts and she bleeds and she keens his name -- it was always his name, and they both know it.
Will is a good man. But goodness has no place here on this ghost ship with its undying captain. As he takes and takes and takes his revenge and she gives it back a thousandfold with tremors and gasps and treasures she's never before beheld.
"D'you know what it's like to bring someone back to life, Jack?" she asks, faintly, as his flesh seems to grow heavier inside her. As his breath grows warmer and his heart drums next to hers.
He stares down at her for a long time. The way a madman would, does. In the distance, she can hear the men in the rowboats, coming to claim the Pearl and their leader. To welcome him home.
He none-too-gently unlocks her chains. Frees her. Allows her to breathe.
"Aye, Elizabeth…I can rightly say I do."
In a short time, they will no longer be alone. She will have questions to answer. Lies to tell. Truths to avoid. Marks to explain away.
She demands comeuppance, reparation, and she takes it with the simplest act of piracy.
That was never that simple at all.
July 9, 2006.