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The Evil Lady E	By : EvilE Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Het - Male/Female > Jack/Elizabeth Views: 5990 -:- 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
- 14
- 15
Chapter 15: Sacrifice of the Virgin

If he'd really believed Elizabeth was 'good', it might have put a different spin on the situation.

Perhaps. He might still want her enough to damn his own personal moral compass to hell and take her notwithstanding.

But it would be less likely. And all of that was irrelevant, anyway, because Elizabeth wasn't 'good'.

She was, in fact, seductively peeling her wet shirt from her naked body, and letting him watch as she did it. There was no need for guile, or pretense. She wanted to arouse him. He could tell that she did. And she was doing a damn good job of it. He sidled closer to her and cupped one of her breasts in his hands, rubbing his thumb delicately over the nipple, still watching her face for a reaction. Her eyes remained open, but he noticed her cheeks seemed to flush, and she blinked, hard, before returning her gaze to his.

Elizabeth was not 'good'. Elizabeth was great. And terrible. And beautiful, and dangerous, and probably some other things he hadn't figured out yet. But he'd get to know some of them in the next few minutes. He hoped.

“You have figured out, haven't you, what we're going to do, in here?” he said, looking down at her through heavily lidded eyes, his mouth in a sober line, his voice low and silky smooth.

She smiled, turning her head to the side slightly, as he continued to fondle her breast. “Not sure of all the details, but I've a pretty good idea.” He reached for the other one with his left hand, and then he held both.

“May I ask what it was that finally tipped the scales, as it were, in my favor?” He lifted both her breasts, then, weighing them in his hands.

She shivered, perhaps from the feel of the air on her exposed, damp skin, perhaps from something else. “You frightened me. I mean, really frightened me.”

He contained his satisfaction in a small smirk that turned the edges of his eyes upwards, and made him even handsomer.

“You like that, do you? Not surprised. Was it the shackles?”

“Yes.”

“Your hair, too?”

“My hair.”

“The spider?”

She groaned, whether from his ministrations on her breasts or the memory, he wasn't sure. “The blasted spider,” she exhaled in a soft purr.

“Remind me to teach you to swear properly.”

“Hmmm, later, perhaps.” She took a step toward him, cast a quick glance up and down his face, and raised her lips to his. It was a kiss that tested the waters, gently at first. Neither of them had completely closed their eyes. Whether it was because of desire to watch, or the omnipresent mistrust, he wasn't sure. It was a kiss between friends, a kiss between equals.

She lied, she cheated, she killed. And so did he. It was what they had to do.

Just as taking her, right there, in the morning, in his cabin, with the crew going to be up and about and her fiancé somewhere wandering the ship, or perhaps snug in his own cabin without the least inkling of what was happening - which, knowing Will, was more likely - was what he had to do.

“What was it, if I may ask, that tipped the scales in my favor?” she demanded, a teasing note in her voice, as she unbuttoned his dripping tunic and guided it off his shoulders, and began to work on the buttons of his shirt.

“Meaning?”

“Why did you decide to rescue me, after all?”

“Oh, that.” She was pressing kisses along his collarbone, now, feather-light, but incredibly erotic, and he found himself struggling to think. He pulled his arms out of his open shirt, and it dropped to the floor. “Lots of reasons.”

“Such as?”

“These,” he said, lowering his mouth to hers, again, and nibbling her lips gently, drawing her lower lip between his teeth, and pulling, lightly, before letting it go. “And these.” He dropped his hands to her shoulders and moved them outward, sliding down her upper arms. “And these, of course.” He returned his hands to her breasts, using his palm this time to gently massage her nipples, as they pressed eagerly into his palm. “Bet you never thought they'd save your life.”

She punched him, then, playfully, and her fist struck the muscled ridges at the side of his abdomen. “That's not nice,” she chided.

“But it is the truth, love.” He sighed as she ran her nails over the muscle at his side, fascinated by his masculinity. “And you asked.”

“Any other reasons?” she prodded, a light note to her voice.

Jack grinned, and he dropped his hands from her breasts to her sides, slipping his fingers inside the waistband of her trousers. “I can think of at least one.”

“And what's that?” Her voice was soft and breathy.

“Give me a moment, and I'll point it out to you,” he murmured, still playing along. He opened the trousers and they fell, too, to join the shirt on the floor. She tried to step out of them, but was hampered by her boots, which were oversized and which neither one of them had thought to remove first. Jack bent his knees, slowly, still very close to her, his hot breath falling first on the valley between her breasts, then on her stomach, then on her abdomen. His hands caressed her backside, the backs of her thighs, and then he reached down to remove her boots, first one, then the other, as he pressed a kiss to her soft skin, and then opened his mouth to bite her tenderly, her young skin immediately snapping back into place when he released it.

“You're so damned young,” he whispered against her belly. “And beautiful. What on earth are you doing with an old salty dog like me?”

“You expect me to answer, or was that rhetorical?” Desire still afflicted her voice, rendering it soft and needy.

“Yes. To both.”

She glanced down at him, taking in the long black pieces of hair, the ever-present red bandanna, the beads, the black slashes of his brows and moustache and beard, the dancing dark eyes. The pirate.

“You excite me. You fascinate me. You're everything I was told to stay away from as a little girl.”

“Yes, and now you know why, don't you?” He opened his mouth against her stomach, again, running his tongue along the flesh of her belly to her navel.

Her head fell back, and he glanced up to see her eyes were closed. He pressed another kiss, mouth open, to her lower abdomen, and then lower, in the nest of curls, and then another, still lower, and another.

“Jack!” she cried in surprise, never having felt a man's mouth, there, uncertain what he meant to do. But it felt wonderful. Her hands came to rest on his shoulders for balance, because her knees felt impossibly weak and she wasn't sure she could stand.

He nudged her thighs apart with one browned, ring-decorated hand, and looked up at her again. “I really have to know what you taste like. The curiosity's been killing me.” He leaned in for one more taste, a slow one, covering and gliding over as many peaks and valleys as he could in a single, gentle stroke with the flat of his tongue. As he pulled away and began to close his mouth, she briefly caught sight of the front part of his tongue, round and pink and finely shaped, like his lips.

Then her knees did collapse from under her, and she stumbled toward him, clutching his bare, bronzed shoulders, and he steadied her with quick grasps of her thighs.

“I'd love more of that, Lizzy, but... I'm afraid we don't have time,” he said somberly, and wrapped an arm around her knees and another around her waist and lifted her off her feet. He carried her over to his bunk.

After he had laid her down, he turned to quickly divest himself of his breeches, still moist with sea water, and then climbed into the bunk next to her.

Elizabeth's heart nearly stopped, and she had to remind herself to breathe. She was naked with Captain Jack Sparrow.

And he was beautiful, all lean, tanned muscle with black hair dusting his chest and arms and legs. When he covered her body with his, and bent his head to kiss her again, she gave herself over to it completely, and kissed him back as if she would die if she didn't. Her arms slid naturally around his neck and his biceps pressed against the sides of her breasts, as he propped himself on his elbows and kissed her, deeply, completely, tasting every each of her mouth, coaxing her tongue to mate with his, to dance, to taste him as thoroughly as he had tasted her.

When he finally lifted his head up, breaking the kiss, she opened her eyes and saw the scratch on his neck had begun bleeding again, just a little. She remembered how he had licked the wound on her hand, and how sinfully good it had felt, and she pressed her lips to his neck and ran the tip of her tongue, lightly, along the scratch.

“Christ, Elizabeth.” Then he parted her thighs with his hands and settled himself between them, unable to wait any longer. “Listen, darling, this is going to hurt.”

“Hurt?” Her tongue came out to moisten her lips, nervously. “How much... will it hurt?”

He laughed, leaning his forehead against hers. “Truth be told, I haven't the foggiest idea. Not being a woman. As you can, hopefully, tell.”

She could definitely tell. With that, pressing half inside of her, she was confident beyond a reasonable doubt.

“More than this?” she asked, running her tongue along the cut on his neck, again.

He drew his breath in sharply, and she felt that part of him move slightly, like a spasm, between her legs. “Yes, probably more than that.”

“More than... my palm?” She held locks of his hair at his nape, pulling at them playfully.

“Perhaps... perhaps like that, yes.” He shifted again, and moved his chest upward so he was looking down into her face. And then he rocked against her, and Elizabeth felt as if she were being split apart...

Part of her clung to everything before that moment: the part of her that wanted to be a decent, proper lady and believed she had an ideal, perfect love in Will, and that people were either good or bad and never both, and that she should have saved herself for marriage, because that's what properly bred young ladies did.

But the other half of her was just as strong: the part of her that gravitated to Jack, to adventure, to ships and pirates and swords. The part of her that did enjoy a good kill. The part of her that chained Jack to the Pearl. The part of her that held a dagger to Jack's neck and then threw it away, not because she couldn't kill him, but because she didn't want to. She wanted this, instead.

The pain of him entering her was sharp and brought tears to her eyes, but she endured it, knowing it was necessary, knowing she was forging herself, completely, at that moment. And when the pain subsided, and there was only Jack, hot, and hard as iron, deep inside of her, she felt wonderful, and free, and as she began to move against him, she knew it was what she had wanted all along.

Her eyes shot open. The virgin was dead.

Jack was peering down into her face, just then, looking for signs of pain in her features and when she opened her eyes and looked at him, fiercely, her irises seemed to sparkle and become enlivened with something new, something bright and womanly and... truth be told, something not exactly nice.

He realized in that instant that Elizabeth was the lover he'd always needed without his knowing it; his partner in trickery, in deception, in skill, in lust for adventure and pleasure. Neither of them had to pretend, at that moment, that they were anything different, anything better, than they really were.

And it excited him almost beyond the boundaries of his control. He began to move inside her, half of holding him back, urging him to slow down, afraid he would never experience this again, and the other half driving him onward with maddening speed, unable to tap into patience or willpower or anything he'd ever used as he lay with a woman, to make it last.

Pinpricks of pain brought him back to the moment. Elizabeth was raking her nails down his back. Hard.

His breath caught sharply in his throat. “Thought we were done drawing each other's blood, love,” he teased, his voice ragged.

Her eyes were shut tightly, and her brow furrowed, her head twisted to the side as she gasped out her answer. “Sorry... it's just... I... it's so...”

“Got to teach you to talk dirty, I s'pose, or else I'll end up a bloody mess.”

The tiny bit of pain, coming, as it did, from her, had the immediate effect of severing the cobweb-thin thread that held his control, and his thrusts became wild where they had been deliberate, raw passion crashing them together with an elemental force matched only by the waves of the sea.

Elizabeth soon felt that cup-of-tea warmth again, only this time it was fiercer, more focused, spiraling outward from where Jack lay buried deep within her, growing more and more powerful until it exploded, radiating outward from her core in delicious, licking flames that seemed to reach even her fingers and toes. She clung to his neck and sobbed out her pleasure, wordlessly, even as he drove deeply into her once, twice, three times, and was finally still, shuddering as he found his own release. “God, Lizzy,” was all he said, his voice a hoarse groan.

They lay completely still, unmoving in each other's presence, for the first time ever. They were both shaken to the very core by the overwhelming intensity of what had just happened.

Elizabeth recovered her voice first. “What... What are you thinking about?”

“Gold,” he lied. Then he opened his eyes to see her blistering look. “Don't look so shocked. I'm a pirate who's just been told there's still a whole lot of uncursed treasure in Isla de Muerta.”

She swallowed, narrowing her eyes at him. “Jack, this can't happen again. I love Will. I'm still going to marry him.”

He glared down at her. “More polite to wait until a man leaves your body before tossing him out of your bed. My bed.”

“Regardless. I do love him. More than anything.”

Jack closed his eyes, marveling at the irony of that statement, considering their present situation, and assimilated it into everything he already knew. It was not a surprise. But he didn't enjoy hearing it. He thought for a moment before responding, his voice controlled and light, almost playful.

“Then you'd better figure out how you'll explain your lack of virginity. Or else, be a damned good actress on your wedding night. Whenever. Scream like it hurts like the dickens.” At this he did withdraw from her, and rolled away to the side of the bunk.

“It did hurt like the dickens.” She scooted backward and sat up.

“Well, then... easier to pretend. But you're good at that, aren't you?”

“I'm sure I'll think of something.”

“You always do.” He looked back at her, running his eyes over her face and damp hair, then gestured toward the open trunk of ladies' clothes he'd had brought up for her, the previous night. “Get dressed. The others will be stirring.” A noise sounded out on the deck, and Jack leapt up, hastily pulling on his still-wet breeches. “And hurry up about it. I'll go tell them you took a tumble overboard.”

“You're a wonderful liar, Jack.” She swung her legs over the edge of the bunk, and looked up at him admiringly, but there was a note of sarcasm in her voice. “I wouldn't be surprised to learn that your entire life is one big fish story... one giant lie.”

He regarded her for a moment, her angelic face, her naked body with drops of sweat and sea water still clinging to her skin, and then smiled his enigmatic smile.

“Like I said before, love... peas in a pod.”

* * *

Will Turner emerged from below stairs into the brightening daylight. “Hello?” There didn't seem to be anyone on deck, which was strange.

“Jack? Are you out here?” He looked up at the helm, surprised to see it had been tied in place. He ran his eyes over the rest of the deck, and his mouth dropped open in shock.

The first thing he saw was a dagger, wedged between two boards, as though marking the exact center of the deck under the main mast. He began to walk toward it, and his foot kicked something: a brown leather, three-cornered hat. Jack's. He picked it up, bewildered. Jack was never without his hat. He set it on a spoke of the helm, and jogged down the deck stairs, growing more alarmed.

Then everything else came into view.

“What on earth...”

A sword - Elizabeth's - rolled aimlessly around towards the side of the deck. A pair of unoccupied boots lay near a pair of shackles, unlocked, right next to a huge puddle of sea water, despite the waves being calm and far below them. His eyes returned to the center. Something lay broken in pieces near the dagger - another sword... Jack's? - and the longboat was upended, with parts of it torn off, as though it had been... bitten. He approached it and something red caught his eye, and he bent to pick it up. A bodice. With the cords shredded.

Nearby, there were spots of what looked like blood, and as he leaned over to brush it with his fingers, something small and brown - several somethings - rolled against his hand, and he picked them up. Buttons. From a man's shirt.

He cast his eyes over the center again, and could see more places where the boards had buckled and splintered, as though torn up. A black three-cornered hat, more blood - and, good Lord, was that hair? - littered the area under the mast.

“What on earth.... what on earth happened out here?”

Then Will heard a familiar voice from behind him. “Lovely morning, isn't it?”

Jack. Will turned to face him, noting his clothes were wet. “It certainly doesn't look like it! What in the world - “

“Lizzy and I were having a little heart-to-heart, when we had a little visit from Barbossa's heathen deity. Elizabeth took an unscheduled swim - fell overboard, an' I had to fish her out. Nothing we couldn't handle. I let her find some dry clothes in my cabin. She'll be out shortly.”

“Elizabeth... fell overboard?” Will looked intently at Jack, sifting through his words carefully. Experience had taught him that the more Jack said, the less likely it was to be true. He watched him warily.

“Yup. But she's all right, no worries at all. I took care of her.”

Still suspicious, Will scanned the deck again. “Do I even want to know? About the rest.”

“Decidedly not, mate.” Jack laid a hand on his shoulder. “Elizabeth versus a heathen god. It was horrible.” He shuddered. “For the god.”

Just then the doors to Jack's cabin opened, and both men turned toward the sound.

Elizabeth emerged, and two pairs of eyes widened slightly, two mouths parted as they took in her strangely radiant beauty. She had coiled her damp hair on top of her head, exposing her elegant, cheekbones, fine jaw and even, high forehead. She wore a dress - for a change - and though it wasn't made for her, it couldn't have suited her more. It was crimson silk, and framed her creamy shoulders and arms closely, tapering down into a boned bodice and a full skirt. The trim and sleeves were gold lace, as were the cords that held the bodice together in a straight line down her back. She carried herself like a queen, as she walked toward them. Both men stared as though suddenly struck dumb.

She walked to Jack first, and took his hands in hers. As she leaned closer, Jack thought in a sudden, unreasonable panic, Is she going to kiss me? Here? Right in front of him? Does she want me killed after all? and had already resigned himself to his fate when he felt the gentle brush of her lips on his weather-roughened cheek.

“Thank you for saving me, Jack,” she said quietly, but loudly enough for Will to hear. Then she turned to Will.

She took his hands, and leaned up to kiss him, full on the mouth, and Jack watched, unable to look away from her lips, from those lips that had so recently been his, and his alone. He watched as they parted to touch Will's, and opened, sliding along his unsmiling mouth, before he gave in and moved his mouth against hers, kissing her back.

Jack stared, almost uncomprehendingly, frozen to the spot. It was only a moment of disbelief, only a moment of raw longing, before he reminded himself that his only real love was the sea.

But Will opened his eyes and looked right at Jack, then, his lips still touching Elizabeth's. And the look in Will's eyes was oddly shrewd, for Will. And something else, Jack thought.

Satisfied. Immensely gratified. Even... gloating. He knows, was Jack's unbidden, irrational thought.

Jack immediately turned away, and sauntered toward the helm. He observed his hat dangling from one of the spokes. “Oh, look who's turned up.”

At the sound of his voice Elizabeth broke the kiss, and allowed Will to slide an arm about her shoulders. The three of them stood there on the deck for a moment, the morning sun beginning to beat down in earnest. For a short while, no one spoke.

Then, Will asked, “Are we still on course? Heading home?”

“Right as rain, mates,” was what Jack said, with a cocky smile.

But as he did so he thought, Heading home? You are.

He lifted his hat off the spoke of the helm, and placed it securely on his head.

I am home.

FINE

A/N: Comments, suggestions welcome. If you actually read this whole long thing - it was 71 pages in Word - congratulations, and I love you. Leave a review if you liked, suggestions if you didn't. Thanks to shatteredmind for her insightful comments and encouragement.

Feel free to let me know if you'd be interested in reading a continuation of this post-The Empire Strikes Back - oops, I mean post- PotC2: DMC-verse, in the form of the following story idea, which I might begin to write once I return to my actual, real life for a while:

The Queen Elizabeth is fine for now, but she's not the Pearl. Tia Dalma's magic provides Jack with an extremely dangerous, but possible way of reclaiming the Pearl - he's got to (magically) sail it back from an alternate reality by defeating, and stealing it from the most brutal, vicious pirate ever to sail an alternate universe: the real Lady E. He's accompanied part-way by his faithful newlywed friends Elizabeth and Will Turner, and Gibbs and the rest. But something goes wrong and Jack ends up in yet another alternate reality as well - one where Will is dead and Jack is married to Elizabeth. (But in that dimension, as he unfortunately discovers, there's no rum.) Jack/Elizabeth Sparrow? Definitely. Jack/Lady E? Could be. Jack/Elizabeth Turner? You better believe it. And how. And Jack might even introduce Lady E to Will.... but we'll see where my evil mind takes me. Stay tuned, check my LJ... http://piratemistress.livejournal.com/

Know Sparrabeth is the 'ship for you? Visit http://community.livejournal.com/sparrabeth
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The Evil Lady E