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Sea Change	By : Nemain Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > General Views: 4238 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Sea Change
- 2-2
- 3-3
- 4-4
- 5-5
- 6-6
- 7-7
- 8-8
- 9-9
- 10-10
- 11-11
- 12-12
- 13-13
- 14-14
- 15-15
- 16-16
- 17-17
- 10
- 11
- 12
Sea Change Chapter Eleven
Disclaimers Apply

A/N Goddess Foxfeather, Queen of Mad Plotbunnies, BUSIEST
WOMAN ALIVE �, Prophetic Muse, Hamster Witch and Uberbeta�Gah,
I�m so slow to update this one!
Readers/Reviewers: *blush * Sorry�

Myrtle
opened one eye groggily, the last traces of sleep blurring her vision. She was warm, but not unpleasantly so. It was not the heat of the tropical sun that
made her flesh sing with pleasure, though.
It took her just a few seconds to realize where she was�Captain Jack
Sparrow�s bunk, in his own personal cabin.
He was next to her, stretched full length on the thin bedding, his
breathing slow and even. He still
smelled of coconut oil and rum and warm skin and salt sweat. Honest work, Myrtle thought primly, before
realizing how untrue that could be. She
was on her side, facing Jack as he lay with his face towards the ceiling. She could hear the footsteps of the crew
overhead, so dutiful to their captain that they worked even in his absence. She had seen very little shirking of duties
aboard the Pearl
and what little there was seemed to be good natured. The men did their work and the ship ran
smoothly, for the most part. Myrtle�s
foot throbbed slightly in response to the small wound, the evidence of the
previous night�s splinter, and she frowned.
She was not upset at finding herself in bed with the captain�he had seen
her bare, she thought as the color rose in her cheeks. He knew secrets about
her, things only the dead knew before�
Unbidden, her hand moved to his chest, her fingers lightly touching the
sun-browned skin. She moved slowly,
barely skimming across the hard muscled flesh towards his stomach. She bit her lower lip, mostly even teeth
leaving a row of tiny marks. _For
someone who drinks so much rum, he lacks the soft belly of a drunkard. _ She delicately extended one finger,
pushing gently against the spot where his ribs formed an inverted V. There was no give, and she smiled. She did not know why this amused her so much,
but she did it again.
�Can I help
you, dove?� Jack did not open his eyes
but his lips curled into a smile. �There�s
more pleasant ways for a man to be awoken than by bein�
pressed in the stomach.� He captured her
hand, still touching his skin, with his, bringing it to his lips. He heard her gasp and felt her stiffen as he
brushed his lips against her palm then each finger in turn. He did it slowly, giving her a chance to pull
away, but she did not. He could
practically feel her blush, he thought, finally opening his eyes. He had been awake for a while, listening to
the sounds of the ship�*his* ship�waking around him, listening to Myrtle�s slow
and even breathing become wakeful and quicker.
She had been soft, her body curving and sweet against him. He had been used to the women who�s company he paid for, the ones who were slender as a
reed, some nicely scented, clean and smelling of soap and herbs. Some were more
like skeletons with a covering of rough skin�those, he knew, had been at it the
longest. They smiled at him, said the
right things, some were great to talk to and be with, but he knew, underneath
everything, that he had bought their company, their
interest. They would be his for as long
as he had the coin to pay for them and he had some of the best coin in the
islands. He paid in gold, sometimes
giving them trinkets of jewels and fine fabrics. Scarlet, he mused, had been the closest to a
true companion he had in ages. He
dragged his thoughts away from the Titian haired woman, though, and focused on
Myrtle beside him. �Witch or no witch,�
he murmured softly, his smile teasing, �you�ve got powers over me, lass.�
�Don�t be
ridiculous,� she replied, trying for tart but sounding shaky. �I need to wash my foot again. I don�t want it to get infected.� She tried to get up but found Jack�s grip to
be suddenly tight, holding her in place.
His gaze was intent on her face, darkly piercing and searching. �What is it?
Why are you looking at me like that?�
�A man is
dead,� he said in the same quiet tone, bringing his free hand up to skim along
her side, moving from her shoulder down to her breast, pressing
carefully against the mound of soft flesh before moving down her side to the
swell of her hip. Myrtle stared at him
with wide, unwavering eyes. �A man is
dead and I know you did not kill him,� he continued, his fingers going to the
narrow rope that held her pants around her hips. As he delicately fumbled with the tie, he
added, �And I know that you�re not staying behind in port. I won�t let you.�
�You�you
won�t let me?� she asked, unable to bring herself to stop him from parting the
fastening on the borrowed trews and slipping his
long-fingered hand between the fabric and her flesh. She licked her lips, wanting to hide herself from
his eyes, but she could not, even if she tried.
He knew her body, he knew secrets of her flesh
and bones. �I can�t stay here,� she
whispered, her eyes slipping closed as he found the dark curls covering her
sex. �Your men think I�m a murderess.�
�They will
think what they want,� he replied in a similar tone. He could feel her growing warm and wet under
his touch, the petals of her flesh parting for him. He moved slowly, not wanting to break the
spell that had been cast. Pressing into
her, he felt her body tighten momentarily, then become sanguine as she exhaled
in a soft rush. Deftly, he moved his
fingers inside her, first one and then two.
�They will not harm you, not even Beeson.�
�I�I�� She could not reply. She was warm all over, more than before, an
ineffable heat spreading through her veins.
She had heard girls, back home, talk about the
feelings the local lads had given them when sneaking a tumble in the stables,
or even those they had given themselves in the dark of their rooms while the
maids slept. None of them, she decided,
had it right. They had never described how
like melting it felt, how like falling and falling and losing all sense of one�s self. Jack�s
fingers twisted inside her, finding new places to touch and draw response, and
Myrtle gasped again. He had shifted to
lay on his side next to her, his intent gaze a tangible thing against her
skin. She knew her face was red�she felt
vulnerable and exposed and altogether wonderful and embarrassed at once. Pressing her forehead against Jack�s
shoulder, she let the moans held in her throat go, giving over to the feelings
his touch was creating in her. She felt
him increase the rhythm he had set between her damp thighs and she shivered. He murmured against her ear, things she did
not understand or truly hear, his voice sending tiny waves of pleasure through
her body, down her spine to pool in her belly.
She could not catch her breath nor did she truly want to�it was like
running, she thought, running as fast as she could in the fields near her old
home. The pure,
unmitigated joy of it all, culminating into a crashing, shaking spasm of
ecstasy.
Jack
flinched slightly as she cried out near his ear, her body arching and bowing
against him, the moisture between her thighs coating his fingers and her entire
form trembling. Slowly, he withdrew from
her, bringing his fingers to his lips and tasting her on them. �Much more pleasant,� he murmured, �than jabbing
me in the ribs, I�m thinkin�.�
Myrtle
laughed very shakily and opened her eyes.
�Jack��
�No,� he
said quietly. �You listen, right?� He paused for a moment then pressed on, �You�re
no murderess. You�re no curse. You�re
not stayin� in port.�
A loud splash sounded outside the cabin, on the port side of the
ship. �You�re stayin�
here.� He shoved himself out of the bunk
and grabbed his belt, heavy with his cutlass and gun. �That, my lovely, was cannon fire.�
- 10
- 11
- 12
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Sea Change