Adult-FanFiction.org : Movies

The Scythe's Song	By : hallowedmaiden Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Het - Male/Female > Jack/Elizabeth Views: 2816 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own POTC or the characters and I do not make any money from this story.

Chapter List
- 12
- 13
- 14
The world blinked back into existence with soft kisses on the skin of her chest. Colors poured into her eyes in the dim early morning light coming through the window every time she exerted the strength to open and close them. The orange of the rising sun that danced across the bedroom walls, the pale yellow that tinted the air, the stark charcoal of the bedroom, and the bottomless black of the floor, resembling a pool of ink more than hardwood. It could only be about 5:30.
Her body felt heavy as she relaxed back into the soft mattress, becoming vaguely more aware of the other person in the bed as the seconds, minutes, or whatever they were ticked by.
"...Lizzie," a sleepy voice said into the bend of her neck, warm breath ghosting over her skin, sending gooseflesh down her form of its own volition. A voice that held so many different flavors, facets, a voice that could turn into the equivalent of a chip of onyx, hard and unyielding, a voice that could leave his mouth like a string of velvet, making her clench her thighs no matter where he was in the room, a voice that could fracture into uneven pieces, belaying the sadness he kept buried deep within, over dark spots in his history that were buried with it, a voice that could turn her blood into fire when it growled against her lips as his body moved within her.
And a voice that could be none of those things, simply a man that really did not want to get out of bed, each word he said heavy with sleep and contentment.
"Mmm," was all she could respond with, eliciting a chuckle from deep within his chest.
"Sleep good darling?"
"Mhm," and she wasn't even sure if she said it out loud or not, as she was quickly drifting back to sleep, only intermittently registering a hand traveling up the side of her body, an arm circling under her to pull her closer, then warm fingers closing around the soft skin of her breast.
Oh…
Perhaps her mind wasn't fully awake yet, still drifting in that limbo between reality and the dreamscape, but her body was starting to become sharply aware, as the first pinprick of arousal sailed through her, a tingling sensation that promised something far greater. His thumb and pointer finger teased her nipple to a hardened point, small gasps exiting her lips when his mouth returned to her neck, certainly leaving a mark, not that she minded. He could leave a hundred marks on her skin and she would display them proudly.
Her back arched, bowing delicately like a blooming flower when his hand abandoned her breast to trail down her ribcage, across her flat stomach, and then without any preamble, arrived at her center. She immediately spread her legs when he nudged her thigh, a sigh of contentment making him respond with a noise of satisfaction. She turned her head to meet his lips in a soft kiss, becoming more aggressive as his fingers dipped into the well of wetness, another noise sounding in his throat, but this time, one of his own arousal, the physical evidence prominent against her hip.
The first of many jolts of pleasure rocketed through her when he slid two fingers into her, starting at the tips, sinking them in slowly, then withdrawing to repeat the motion, making her realize exactly how wet she was when he met absolutely no resistance against her skin.
She took a shuddering breath, scooting closer to him, raising one leg higher to give him better access, quietly moaning again when he curled his left hand around her hip, undulating her body to match the rhythm of his fingers.
"...Jack...I need…"
While she loved the friction, the intimacy of him being inside of her, her clit was beginning to ache with need, a burning sensation that edged just on this side of the line between pain and pleasure.
"This?" he asked when he finally slid his fingers out of her, slowly trailing them over the peaks and valleys of her slick folds to arrive at what she so desperately wanted him to touch, making lazy circles around it, taking his time, giving her the clear message that he would decide when she got to have that ultimate pleasure.
"...oh god yes," she breathed, sliding her arm around him for something, something to keep her from floating straight off of the bed into the stratosphere. Needing more, she pushed her chest up, and let her mouth fall open in satisfaction when he attacked her nipple with his full lips, grazing his teeth against it, sucking on it roughly, smiling against her when her left hand came up to bury itself in his hair.
Remarkably he wasn't thrusting his hips against her, and she marveled at his level of self-control through the haze of sensation he was concocting, deciding at the same time to give him some pleasure of his own. Unwinding her right arm from underneath his body, she let it trail down his chest, down the hard muscle of his stomach to arrive at his straining length, making a delicious growl spill out of him onto her breast when she wrapped her fingers around it.
"...Christ, I love you…" he whispered gratefully. As she gave him slow strokes, exploring his ridges and shape, even though she had it memorized by now, he abandoned her clit, sliding his fingers back into her entrance, thrusting again in the same rhythm of her ministrations.
Heat was growing inside of her body, little flashes of it appearing all over under her skin, the first sign of danger, because the level of pleasure that he made her feel was dangerous. The downhill slide into something that stripped her of reality, of her sense of self, of everything besides a frantic and almost hysterical need for relief, was a trip of wonder, with a shining precipice at the very end that she willingly shoved herself off of every damn time.
He grew even harder in her hand if that was possible as she sped up her strokes, then faltered when he withdrew his fingers once more and trapped her clit between them, massaging it, alternating between movements faster than she could keep up, but oh, she didn't mind, didn't mind at all as she started to tumble, the knot in her stomach tightening, his hand abandoning her hip to curl around her other breast as he claimed her mouth in a kiss that told her how much he liked what she was doing to him with how thoroughly he swept his tongue against hers, how much fervor he used to plunder her.
She broke away to thrust her chest at him once more, and he gave her a noise that was a cross between a laugh and a moan as he descended upon her nipple again, his other hand still massaging her right breast, kneading that nipple between his fingers.
"...I-I can't...god," was all her fevered brain could formulate as the assault of sensation nearly short-circuited her, but she held on for dear life, certain that he was trying to kill her, and she wasn't about to give in that easily.
Speeding up her strokes on his cock, she inclined her head to latch onto his neck, letting her teeth sink in just a little bit, before running her tongue over the indentations, letting him know that this was not a one-sided war.
Then one particular stroke on her clit had her back arching, a fresh wave of heat invading her, her breath starting to come out in small puffs, the function of her brain limited down to his beautiful hand and its movements against her body, because she was speeding towards orgasm at such a pace that left her no choice but to let it come, let it become her master, let it control her in that beautiful moment of abandon that only Jack could bring her to so perfectly.
He rubbed her clit faster, circling around it at a furious pace, cries spilling out of her, her hand on his cock forgotten about as she spiraled out of control, head thrashing back and forth, sweat matting her hair to her forehead.
Jack slipped his tongue back into her mouth just as the fire bloomed in her clit like a fucking explosion, spreading outwards in blinding spidery fissures, making her tear her mouth away from his to cry out against his cheek as each wave of pleasure ripped her farther and farther away from reality, turning her bones to dust, her heart beating at a frantic speed, and she swore she stepped through the gates of heaven at the very peak, before she floated back down through the haze, vaguely registering the soft circles that he was still making around her clit, as the pleasant thought entered her brain over and over again.
This man was hers.
"With me, love?"
"...I... I think so," she said softly, adding "terrible man" onto it under her breath, earning her a lovely little laugh as he continued to play with her slick folds.
She countered by wrapping her fingers around his length again, teasing them over the tip, changing his laugh into a hiss, a sharp intake of breath sucked in through his teeth.
"I need to be inside of you Lizzie," he whispered, sending a spasm straight to her core, reforging that ball of fire there as she tugged him on top of her, moaning against his mouth when his hips flowed against hers like a dance that neither of them even needed to think about anymore, his right arm holding his body above her.
She pulled his bottom lip between her teeth when he reached down to rub the swollen tip of his length in teasing trails across her wet slit, tingles prickling in her skin at the contact from the after-sensitivity of her orgasm.
"You want this?"
He was grinning down at her with his devilish smile, his dark eyes glittering in the dim light of the room.
"I thought you were the impatient one?"
"Maybe I just enjoy teasing you too much."
His voice was husky now, a deep timbre that could probably make her come all by itself if he were inclined to try. She angled her hips, trying to take him in, and he took mercy on her, and himself, when he slid his length deep inside her, slowly, so that she felt every inch, dropping his head down to kiss her jawline as soon as he was fully enveloped.
This moment, every time he entered her, regardless of how many times it had happened, still managed to steal her breath without the promise of giving it back.
He filled her so perfectly, felt so incredible, so warm, the throbbing matching her heartbeat, reminding her how grateful she was that they were both still alive.
"...yes…" she whispered, wrapping her legs around his waist. He stayed still, supporting himself on his elbows, his biceps pushing her breasts together, a perfect expression of what she could only call love coloring his face.
"God Lizzie, it's been almost 300 years and you still make me lose my mind. A squad of hitmen could come through that door right now and I would be powerless."
"I hope not," she said smiling, softly stroking his face with her thumb. "I don't know what I would do if I lost you for good."
"Love, nothing could take me from you. Nothing."
She tangled her fingers into his hair as he leaned down to kiss her, withdrawing from her, thrusting back in, abandoning her mouth to return to her breast, suckling at her nipple gently.
"Oh god, you feel so fucking good," spilled out, surprising her because he hadn't even really started yet. She felt him twitch inside of her just as he thrust in again. He had always loved it when she told him what he did to her.
"Careful darling, you keep talking like that and this will be over before it even begins," he whispered as he kissed his way from her nipple up to her neck.
"We...oh...we both know that isn't true."
She slid her hands around his back, appreciating the way the muscles there rippled as he moved within her.
"I think you underestimate how delicious you sound when I'm inside of you, especially when you tell me how good I feel."
"You're delicious," she breathed. "...god...harder…"
He claimed her mouth again, raising her legs higher, gripping her hips, and started to drive inside of her without warning, each thrust making her body sink into the mattress, simultaneously sliding it closer and closer to the headboard.
"...yes, oh fuck yes, just like that…"
Heat started to once again radiate out through her body from inside her core, and she could feel Jack's control slipping when her fingernails scratched a trail down his back. He was making beautiful noises where his head was buried into her neck, and then his arms wrapped around her at the same time as she tugged him down to lay flat against her, their skin rubbing together as they both spiraled into the abyss.
Her orgasm struck first, sending her core clenching around him rhythmically, her teeth sinking into his shoulder, but her scream spilled out of her anyway when the very peak of her pleasure nearly killed her with the intensity of its control over her, sending every nerve ending in her body into overdrive. Jack followed almost immediately after, thrusting hard into her twice before his body surged against her with the power of his finish as he spilled himself inside of her, his beautiful voice cursing into the skin of her neck.
Both of their hearts were beating like wild things when their orgasms retreated like a storm clearing, sweat slicking their bodies, and Jack was the first to grin, the first to give her that post-sex chuckle of his, making the aftershocks just a little more intense.
Her eyes fluttered closed when he caressed her lips with a tender kiss, both of his hands threading through her hair.
"I love you, darling."
"I love you t-" she started before he cut her off with another kiss, and then her heart warmed when he hugged her, cradling her body to his, still inside of her.
"You will never lose me, do you understand that?"
She nodded against his shoulder, slipping her arms around him too, unwilling to let him go at that particular moment.
"I'll hold you to that promise."
"Oh yeah?"
"Mhm."
More sunlight was shining into the room around the black curtains when he slipped out of her and rolled over onto his back, a lazy smile on his face. She scooted over to him, propping herself up on her elbow to play with his chest, trailing her fingers around the dragon tattoo, feeling his steady heartbeat at the same time.
"Do you think you will get any more?"
"Tattoos? I dunno, maybe. It would have to be something with significance. None of those stupid ones that guys are getting these days...the tribal things...and that disgusting barbed wire around their arms."
"You could get a small version of the mural up there."
"The reaper? Yeah, maybe. Dunno where I would put it though."
"Well, the backs of your arms are still clear. I don't think your two shoulder tattoos wrap around enough to interfere there. Speaking of, what made you decide to have that painted?"
"The wall was boring, and I got sick of it, so I started going to flea markets-"
"Hang on a second. You went...shopping...by yourself?"
He tilted his face to look at her, quirking his eyebrow.
"...yes, I went shopping by myself. Anyways, I was looking for those little vendor painting booths. I finally found a lady that did fantasy paintings, and she had that one on display. I gave her a grand in cash that day to paint it on the wall."
"And the one in the kitchen?"
"A client painted that one for me instead of giving me money."
"And what did you steal for her?"
"Why do you assume that it was a her?"
"I can just tell."
She made a face of superior intelligence at him, making him reach down to ruffle her hair.
"...I actually didn't steal anything for her."
"So...what did you do?"
His expression turned serious, like a dark rain cloud passing in front of the sun.
"I'm not...sure that you want to know."
That confused her for a moment. She thought that they were done keeping things from each other. He must have noticed her drawing back, retreating from him slightly in apprehension.
"...Lizzie…"
He refused to look at her, looking instead at the sheet that he was fidgeting with.
"Tell me."
Fear was something that she very rarely saw in his eyes, but it was there now, flickering in and out of existence like a faulty light bulb.
"I...I killed someone for her."
It wasn't the bombshell she had been expecting, certainly, but it still twisted her stomach into knots. Not because of what he had done, but because of how uncomfortable he sounded just mentioning it.
"Why were you worried about telling me that?"
He sat up against the headboard and rubbed his hands over his face.
"Because I don't make a habit of putting the subtitle of hitman on my fucking resume. If I kill people, generally, it's 'cause they got in my way first."
"...Like Russia. And when those idiots broke into your house."
"Exactly."
"But?"
"I was hired to kill this person. I went after him."
"And?"
He was gazing at her with a strange expression, as though she was not satisfying him with her reactions.
"You don't seem disturbed by it."
"Jack, I'm sure that you wouldn't just kill any random person. What did the guy do?"
"Well according to the fucked up justice system that the UK has, he didn't do anything. You could also blame it on his piece of shit defense lawyer, but that is a different matter altogether.
"His name was Dominic. Dominic Fraser. Big guy, like six foot four. Long track record of violent behavior and criminal activity. Of course, he didn't seem that way when he met her. Seemed normal enough, just another single guy, charming, well off.
"Men like that, they all seem normal for as long as it takes to hook someone in. Six months go by, they start to unravel, their veneer cracks. Once they decide that the person they have won't fight back, they show their true colors.
"They dated for seven months. He started abusing her at just over five months. She put up with it for the remainder of their relationship. Then, he came up drunk one night, more drunk than usual anyway, and forced himself on her.
"She went to the cops the next day, and they arrested him six hours later, once they located him. If the court operated like it was fucking supposed to, he would have ended up behind bars for good. But they got him free because of some evidence technicalities.
"Two weeks go by, nothing, silence from him. Then she got phone calls, threatening her, he would show up and pound on her door, he vandalized her car, all kinds of crazy shit. As you can imagine, she didn't have a lot of faith in the cops anymore.
"She called me. We had bumped into each other several times before, and she knew a little of what I was...talented at, but that is a whole different string of stories. She called me, asked me to come over for the night, just to watch out for the asshole. So I did, and he came. Got a look at him from the balcony in her apartment.
"Told her that I didn't think he was going to stop. He was just on that side of psychotic that he was only going to get worse. So she asked me to take him out. Just like that. No hesitation. Just 'Jack, I need you to kill him'."
He paused, reaching over to the nightstand to light up a cigarette. Talking about things that made him uncomfortable always required some kind of distraction, something else to focus on.
"...How did you do it?"
His dark eyes slid over to hers to regard her behind the smoke, as though he was still debating on how much he wanted to reveal to her. Truthfully, and she wasn't sure of how she should feel about it, the image, the aesthetic of Jack hunting someone sparked some dark part of her mind, the same part that looked enemies in the eye during her days as the Pirate King, well, one of two, just to sentence them to death.
The dynamic of a person is made of many moving parts, different combinations yielding different results, but the dynamic of a hunter was always the same. Pinpoint focus, a shedding of all other complicated humanity, turning a person into a weapon and nothing else.
"...Like I said, he was a bigger guy, so I wanted to avoid close contact with him if possible. Not that I couldn't have done it that way, but I would have ended up with more injuries than I wanted. He lived in this little rundown dump apartment building right next to the river. Only came home late at night, around 3 AM. Would sleep for a couple of hours, then head back out.
"I watched him, watched his movements, watched to see if he brought anyone home with him, tracked when he drank, how much he drank etc. On the third night, he took a longer than normal smoke break out by his car, and then I saw that he had a pistol sitting on the front passenger seat. It took me less time to figure out that he planned to drive over to her house to kill her than it did for him to open the car door to get in.
"I only had about five seconds to stop him from driving away, so I abandoned my original plan of sniping him, and put a 9mm bullet in his leg just behind his kneecap instead from where I was across the street on a rooftop. He slid out of that front seat like a wet noodle, screaming and clutching his knee like it was crushing itself.
"He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, so I went downstairs, across the street, didn't bother to cover my face, and told him what I was going to do and why."
His face looked greasy, that special permanent kind of greasy, permeating the skin, pouring out of the skin, lining the eyeballs so that whenever he looked at someone, they felt diseased from his gaze. It was a strange contrast to his perfectly groomed and spiked blonde hair.
"Who... who the fuck are you," he shouted, sounding like the cliche injured villain in an action movie as he squirmed against the ridge of the front seat, his legs quivering on the pavement.
"Why does that matter to you? You won't be alive long enough to care."
"She fucking...that bitch, she hired you didn't she….fuck…"
"No, she didn't. Well, she might've asked me to kill you, but it was your fucking lawyer that signed your death sentence. You might've lived in prison. But you got free, and then you did what all people like you do, people of less than average intelligence. You went after her again."
He made a show of looking inside the car, before kneeling down to eye level.
"From the looks of it, you were planning to drive over there right now to kill her. Can't imagine what else that gun in there could be for."
"Fuck you."
"You know, you're lucky I have better things to do. If I were a little less busy, I would enjoy causing you tremendous pain. But I will tell you this. Men like you, men that think they wear some kind of fucking crown on their head that allows them to do whatever the fuck they want, you give men like me a bad name."
He might be a criminal, but there was no fucking way in hell that he would ever harm anyone who didn't deserve it, especially not a woman. It made him think of Lizzie, and all of the times that he had stepped in for her to fuck someone up who had the unfortunate idea of hurting her. But Lizzie was gone, long gone, hated him for all he knew. He hadn't seen her for 25 years. Not a word, not a phone call, not a letter, nothing.
"That bitch wasn't shit, she fucking deserved-"
His fist connected with the asshole's fake tanned cheek, sending blood shooting out of his mouth, grateful for the distraction. Not that he would ever actually try and talk about it with someone, but thinking about her hurt, and it was an acute pain unlike anything else.
"There isn't a woman on this planet that deserves to be subjected to you willingly, nevermind by force. And actually, I changed my mind. I do want you to be in tremendous pain, but just for as long as it took for you to cause her pain."
He stood up and fired another bullet as the man's crotch, feeling a stark satisfaction at the shrill scream that pierced the air, combined with the gurgle of immediate onset hysterical crying.
"Let's see, how long did it take, maybe 45 seconds? A minute? Let's go with a minute."
The man's arm spastically grabbed at the now mangled mess between his legs, his head thrashing back and forth.
When something like a minute passed, he stepped up to press his gun to the man's forehead, firing again with preamble, not bothering to take an extra second to look at the corpse.
Dragging his flip phone out of his pocket, he made a phone call.
"Chris? Yeah. I need you to clean something up."
"Rundown apartment building, right off Holcombe in Bathampton, next to the river."
"One body, against a car. Three bullet wounds. 9mm."
"Yeah, sounds good. See you tomorrow."
"He deserved it, you know," she said once he finished the story.
The next drag of the cigarette lasted a few extra seconds, as though he was trying to delay saying anything else.
"I know. It's just...when you kill someone by choice on your end first, when you go after them, it's more deliberate than when it is just self defense, or defense of someone else. You put more of yourself in it, and it haunts you afterwards, regardless of how much the person deserved it. Do I regret killing him? No. Did I like it? Yeah, a little. Do I wish I didn't have to do it? Every day.
"I went back to her, after he was dead, and told her. She tried to offer me money, but I refused it. Instead, I had her paint the kitchen mural for me. She had her work hung up around her apartment."
It was an interesting contrast, with the reaper above Jack's bed symbolizing the fact that even though they were both immortal, death could be hanging around every corner. Then, the gods and goddesses of the other mural represented a timelessness, and eternity of life. She wondered if he meant the symbolism, or if it was just a coincidence.
"That's enough doom and gloom for now, I think. Let's go back to sleep for an hour or so, love. We have a long day ahead of us."
"Alright, but one more thing."
"What's that?"
"Remember how you told me that I shouldn't be afraid to tell you anything?"
"Mhm."
"Well, that goes for you too. Nothing you tell me will scare me away. I understand you too well at this point."
His eyes softened, and he gave her a soft smile when he laid back down on the bed as she snuggled up against him, enjoying the spicy scent of his skin, and the sturdiness of his chest under her cheek as she fell back asleep.
- 12
- 13
- 14
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

The Scythe's Song