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The Haunting Place	By : Lktwoozee Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > General Views: 11162 -:- 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
- 20
- 21
- 22
[Chapter
Twenty-one: Jack�s Tattoos]
Finally, in
spite of her giddy excitement, she succumbed to exhaustion, sleeping in Jack�s
arms. They had about one precious hour
of slumber, until half-past midnight.
Something
woke Maren up.
Or several
things combined woke Maren up and all of them could be attributed to the less
then considerate bedfellow by her side.
First of all, his hand was lying over her face, the arm carelessly
tossed over her shoulder. Jack had also
stolen her pillow and every stitch of blanket was tangled in his long legs,
leaving her naked and shivering in the cool air. Not to mention, that somehow the pirate, who was only an average
man of stature to begin with, managed to hog ninth-tenths of the available bed
space. Poor Maren was rolled onto the
edge of the bed, one arm dangling precariously over the side. But the predominate symptom that had
disturbed her slumber was only made clear when she attempted to move.
Endearingly
irritated, she batted his hand off her face and arched up into a hearty
stretch, or tried to at least before a terrible soreness burned parts of her
she hadn�t known existed until that night.
Hissing, she gritted her teeth and clutched at her stomach. Ouch!
She�d have to take things easy for a little while.
She blushed
hotly as the evening�s spectacular event was recalled in her mind�s eye in
minute detail. The weight of his body,
the grit of his beard against her neck, his husky breath in her ears, all were
like precious gemstones to her memory.
Especially the remembrance of Jack inside her, even the first instant of
pain as he entered her was relished in its own way.
Speaking of
which, Maren�s lifted her leg and stared hard at the inside of her thighs. It was still dark in the room, but Maren
thought she glimpsed a stain against the pale skin nestled there. Carefully mindful of both waking Jack and
straining her tender parts, Maren got out of bed. To her relief, the soreness inside was easing up; apparently, a
little stretch was sufficient to keep the cramping at bay. She retrieved her nightdress from the floor
and, noticing the pink flower that Jack had �serenaded� her with, picked that
up as well. �Might as wells be keepin�
it,� she mused, �it�ll make a dandy souvenir.�
The flower was placed gently next to the washbasin, which held water
long since chilled by the night and the nightdress was folded over the vanity
chair.
Maren
brought a candle over and lit it, wary to sway the dim light off of the lightly
snoring Jack. In the yellow
candlelight, she inspected the grittiness outside her sex. There was most obviously the red mark of
dried blood, but also, and Maren�s cheeks flared anew pink, the telltale
reminisce of spent semen. Strangely, a
spark of pride crowded Maren�s other emotions, as if this dried stain was a
badge of honor, a testament to her courage, and she snickered to herself while
she washed away the blood and seed with cold water that caused gooseflesh to
shiver down her legs.
Her
refection in the vanity mirror appeared golden and silver with both moonlight
and candlelight to illuminate it; it had a surreal quality, almost
fae-ish. Finishing her cleaning, she
studied herself anxiously. Somehow,
she�d always imagined she�d look different after her first lovemaking. Maybe older, or wiser? More womanly, more worldly, perhaps? But here she was, the same
humdrum-old-Maren, though admittedly as humdrum as a medium barmaid can
possibly manage to be. Well, she did
sport several new love bites, garishly purple, over her bosom�that was
something different at least. �But did
he have to put one over me collar,� fingering a particular mark over the rise
of her cleavage, Maren was forced to concede in all fairness, �not that I was
complainin� at the time.�
The study
of her body was becoming more scrupulous, after all, Jack had yet to actually
see her naked. What would he
think? Sucking in her stomach and
sticking out her chest, she glared at herself in profile. Not bad, not bad, maybe too generous around
the hips and thighs, but then again, some men worshipped curves like misers
worshipped coins. Maren gradually
turned around, eyes riveted to the vanity mirror. Her face was bonnie enough from all angles, yet her shoulders
were definitely too broad, she considered meticulously. She glanced over her shoulder, piling her
hair atop her head to glance at her back.
Yes, that was a particularly graceful curve along her back, but [yikes],
was her arse really [that] big?!
�Beautiful,�
Jack�s happy drawl scared the living hell out of Maren, �God damned
beautiful.� He was sitting up in bed,
the sheet pooled at his waist, back against the headboard, hands tucked behind
head, with a cheery smile and bright eyes that watched her every move like a
hungry hawk. Squeaking demurely, Maren
grabbed her nightgown from the chair and threw it on. It was on the tip of Jack�s sassy tongue to remind her how
modesty was hardly necessary now, but he humored her by keeping quiet.
�Sorry,�
she meekly apologized, straightening out the collar of her nightdress, �I was
just washin� up. I did�n wake ye, did
I?�
Nonchalantly
shrugging, Jack nodded towards his pile of clothes, �No worries, but as long as
yer up luv, how �bouts fetchin� me flask and we toast to an excellent tumble,
eh? Look inside me coat, right pocket
at the waist.�
Maren
nodded eagerly and, gripping the candleholder, skipped over to his jacket. She found the silver container swiftly
enough, �What�s the drink?� she asked, walking to the bed.
�Rum!� he
stretched his arms out in invitation.
Rolling those deep blue eyes, Maren handed him the precious flask, but
Jack kept his arms spread and cleared his throat rather pointedly when Maren
just stared oddly back at him. A few
awkward moments passed before Maren dumbly realized he was waiting for her to
join him. She smiled, insanely gleeful,
and crawled onto the bed, spooning next to his side and laying her head upon
his shoulder. One hand he wrapped
around Maren, drawing her closer, the other performed his infamous one-handed
uncapping of the flask trick, graceful and quick. His Adam�s apple bobbed while he tossed his head back to gulp a
tasty quantity of rum, the spice and alcohol prickling down his throat, just
the way he liked it. �Son o� a bitch, I
was thirsty,� he slurred contentedly down at the silver bottle, offering some
to Maren as an afterthought. Parched
herself, she managed a generous swallow, albeit, not as voluminous as Jack�s
swig. Nevertheless, he was impressed,
�Aye, knock �em back, sweetheart, tonight�s a night for celebratin�.�
The burning
rum that fumed in her mouth was nothing compared to the kiss that
followed. Chapped lips and whiskered
chin, chafed quite pleasantly against her mouth, the beads from his beard
bumped against her neck. They finished
with a satisfied sigh and Maren returned her head to lie on Jack�s chest-
�Jack!� she
screeched upon actually seeing said chest, �Ye�ve been shot!� then added,
�Twice!�
�Wha-?!�
the urgency and shrill to her tone, had Jack�s eyes wide and searching over his
body in an instant, �O-oh!� Releasing a
relieved laugh, he patted Maren�s leg reassuringly, �Jesus, I thought ye meant
[recently]. Aye, got clipp�d escapin�
the East Indy gallows littl� less then two score �go. Buggers were waitin� for me to round the corner,� shaping his
hand into a gun, he pantomimed pointing and pulling the trigger, �So let that
be a lesson to ye,� he waggled a bobbing finger at her nose, �Always be
checkin� them corners, thems dangers spots.
Ifen it were�n for me exceptional catlike reflexes, them bullets would
have ripp�d two holes straight through me very heart.�
Incredulous,
Maren asked again, �Ye were shot?�
His eyes
shifted to and fro, slightly perplexed, but since that had never stopped him
before, Jack answered simpler this time, �Aye.�
�Twice?�
�Aye,� he
verified, pointing out the circular red scars on his upper right chest,
�Look-see here�one�two. Surpris�d ye
did�n notice them �fore, unlesson o� course, ye were too [distract�d] by the
awesome visage that is one Cap�n Jack Sparrow in the buff.�
�Maybe,�
teasing, she tugged a braid from his hair, �O� perhaps, I could�n see anythin�
in the dark.�
Jack
snorted, laying an innocent hand upon his chest, �That�s why I fanci�d keepin�
the curtains open, but [nooo].� From
somewhere in his lax mind, a thought arrived, �What two shakes, ye [did] see me
in me starks, the other night in the washroom.
Aye, and there was plenty o� light to gander by as I recall.�
Huffing in
her indignant way, Maren poked him in the stomach, �I [barely] saw anythin�
�cause one, yer backside was turn�d to me and two,� again she poked him, �twas
all steamy and whatnot. I could�n even
make out yer bleedin� tattoos much less yer bloody bullet holes.� Her eyes fell upon the tattoo she had only
glimpsed before, the spherical dark one that decorated his left pectoral.
Abruptly sitting up, Maren leaned
over to the nightstand and used the candle to light the bedside lamp. With the improved illumination, she leaned
over Jack, one arm propping her up, the other touching the painted skin, and
carefully inspected the picture. It was
as big as the palm on Jack�s hand and drawn in blacks and grays, like etched
granite. Grey waves crashed upon a
black orb, surrounded by a banner baring proud calligraphically enhanced
letters. There was also writing on the
dark circle, a black pearl she recognized a tad slowly. A signature was hidden in the turf on the
bottom of the tattoo. �Ye read Latin?�
watching her trace the letters with her fingertips, he inquired innocently.
�Do�n be a daft dick, Jack,�
snipped Maren, �I do�n [read] period.�
Taking her index finger in his
calloused hand, Jack guided the digit over the tattooed banner as he read out
loud, �Libertas meus, Vita meus, Navigium meus. My Freedom, my Life, my Ship,� he translated, proud, ��Tis the
crest of the Black Pearl.�
�Whats �bout this?� indicating the
script on the pearl, she couldn�t help but be impressed. Literate men were a rarity in Maren�s world,
especially literate men who could read both English [and] Latin.
�Margritum Niger,� he traced the
pad of her finger round the circle and stated, somewhat redundantly, �Black
Pearl.�
�And this?� the barmaid was
enjoying herself, not only was her lover handsome and charming, but intelligent
too! Maren touched the shadowed words
at the bottom.
�Nauarchas
Pirata Passer,� saluting, Jack winked saucily at her, �The Pirate Captain
Sparrow.�
�So that�s
the Pearl�s crest,� she mulled over it, �Me freedom, me ship-.�
�My
freedom, my [life], my ship,� Jack corrected, speaking precisely.
�Me
freedom, me life, me ship,� hurriedly, Maren repeated, then smiled
thoughtfully, �I like it.�
�Rather
partial to it meself.�
�How many
tattoos ye gots, anyway?� she was nonchalant, but her eyes sparkled with giddy
curiosity.
Rather
smugly, he replied, �Eleven, last time I check�d.�
��Leven?�
laughing, she raised an eyebrow.
�Aye,� he
waggled a brow in return, �Ye want to count them?�
Biting her
lip, she nodded shyly still petting the tattoo of the Black Pearl�s seal.
�Well then,�
Jack presented his right bicep, which naturally flexed as he bent it. Upon the fleshy muscle was a blue and gold
whistle with large letters under, �Here�s an old one.�
Maren
recognized the nautical symbol, �A boatswain�s call? [Ye] were a boatswain?� she said skeptically.
�Was�n born
a cap�n, me dove.�
�What�s
that say below it?�
�The
Corban,� and furthered, �that was the very first ship I ever serv�d on,
standard smuggling littl� clipper o� a thing.
Sail�d her three years as cabin boy, one as her boatswain. Sank off the shore of West Africa, the
devil�s own coral reef tore through her hull like a blade.� His hands danced chaotically about as his
excitement pressed, � I tell ye, I�ve spent me entire life on the waves and
have ne�er seen the likes o� that damnable reef since that sorry day when I was
sixteen years old.� Sighing
regretfully, he swallowed more rum and felt resolutely better.
�Now this
troublesome bugger,� extending his right forearm, the infamous flying sparrow
was shown over a sunset ocean, �has gotten me arresst�d on several different
occasions. People always lookin� for
the telltale �bird on the arm�. Gibbs
says I should just go �head and tattoo over it in big bloomin� letters,
�Hello! I�m the pirate Cap�n Jack
Sparrow, please arrest me!� But in a
bit o� honesty, I kind o� enjoy the notoriety o� a famous tattoo.�
�I bet ye
do,� she spoke, finger falling on the �P� below it, marring his wrist
�Somethin� tells me, that were�n no decoration.�
�Excellent
deduction,� he drawled cheerfully, yet there was a sharpness to his kohl eyes,
�That too, I can thank the East India Company for.� Suddenly he brightened up, smirking proudly, �But this one,� the
right bicep was procured with an icon Maren recognized, �be one I cherish to me
heart and soul.� The tattoo was the
shadowed profile of an attractive woman wearing a gaudy blue stone round her
neck, bright red letters hung over and under the facade.
�Le Auberge
de Diamant!� Maren gasped and her expression froze over, but her words were
temperamentally hot, �The Diamond Inn!?
The tattoo ye �cherish to yer heart and soul� be the symbol o� a
brothel?�
�Thought ye
said ye could�n read,� he accused, oddly relaxed at her offense.
�Do�n have
to read to know that sign,� realizing how desperately jealous she was acting,
Maren puffed up as the if whole matter was inconsequential to her, �I may�ve
been a slip o� a gel when I skipp�d London, but even blind and deaf beggars be
wise to the gist o� that dark lady with the necklace. Le Aubrege de Diamant is only [the] most notorious brothel in all
o� Great Britain. O� course I be
recognizin� its mark!�
Self-consciously, she began straightening out her hair, �Ye must be a
serious patron to bare a tattoo o� that place.
Let me guess��favor�d customer� they calls it? Gots yer picture up in the drawin� room and everythin� I�ll
wager! Do they give ye a discount too?�
Grinning
manically, Jack offered her more rum, but she shook her stubborn head, �Right
on two counts, Maren. Picture,
probably. Discount, yes. But I�m no patron,� a gulp from the flask,
�I�m family.�
�What?� she
barked, wary of any teasing on Jack�s part.
�Fa-mi-ly,�
he reiterated, �Me mother�s the owner and proprietor.�
Deciding
that he was obviously making fun of her, she vengefully socked him on the arm,
�Ye horse�s arse,� Jack only laughed and held her hand off from another attack,
�Madame Bedelia Diamanta runs the Diamond Inn, everybody�s privy to that.�
�Did I
state to the contrary?�
Staring
blankly at him, Maren pierced his daft smile with her glare, �Whoa-wait a lick
here, yer really serious, are�n ye? Yer
mother be [the] Madame Diamanta?�
�Aye,� this
time she snatched the rum from him and guzzled greedily, �But do�n be fool�d by
that �Bedelia� Frenchy-nonsense, �tis a con.
She was born one �Mildred Sparrow�, plain and simple, o� �Mildy to her
friends and always �mum� to me.�
For a few
seconds, she flustered in silent shock.
Jack Sparrow, son of the Mistress of London? With mouth gaped and head cocked, she finally shrugged
dumbfounded, �Figures.� An impish smirk
tugged at her lips as she bent forward to kiss his mother�s tattoo cordially,
her hands gliding up and down his arm in an intentional caress, �Here I was
thinkin� ye be a pervert and ye up and surprise�d me by bein� all sentimental
towards yer ma. That�s very sweet.�
�Oh well,
let me assure ye, I still be a pervert,� leaning down, he caught her lips again
and groaned appreciatively when she grazed her nails down his arm. However, Maren was distracted when her
fingertips crossed over his inner forearm, feeling coarse and rough unlike the
rest of his warm flesh. Confused, she
pulled away from him to glance at his arm-
�By the
Bishop�s white prick!� she shrieked louder this time, using one of Kristy�s
patented curses, �What happen�d here?!�
The skin was ravaged in sporadic rivulets of scarred burns, pink and
angry. The very sight was horrific and
Maren turned wide pitiful eyes up to his dark features, her hands still petting
the abused flesh.
�That,�
Jack slurred quietly, already holding the flask to his lips, but not drinking,
�is the reason I�ll never step foot on Spanish mainland �gain. Brit officers are�n too bad, they just nick
a �P� on yer arm and line ye up to hang on the �morrow�not like the Inquisition. Those ungodly bastards �question� ye with
whips and blades and [boilin� oil],� his arms flexed subconsciously, �Smart
�bout it too, �cause ye can�t be completely submergin� the arm o� all the pain
dies with it. [But]� Jack�s mouth
became dry and it took a quick swallow to wet his tongue again, �if the
scaldin� oil is slowly poured onto flesh, well then, it does its damage and
keeps the skin feelin� pain, snaking burns down the arm, and every-searing-drop
is etch�d into yer mind as permanent as the scars on yer skin.�
Maren could
only mange a loud gulp.
�I was
lucky though,� brightening, Jack starting fidgeting with the collar to Maren�s
nightdress meaningfully, �I escap�d �fore they could do any [real] damage.�
Maren was
tempted to inquire how, but decided a change of subject would probably be more
prudent, �So by me own count, that�s four.
Where�s the other seven?�
�Got two on
me back,� he grunted, scooting away from the headboard and parting his charmed
hair over his shoulders. Eagerly, Maren
crawled behind him swiped some stray locks away from his neck. Underneath was a jaded green laurel wreath
inside the left shoulder blade, as mighty as any Caesar would wear.
Jack was
innocently quiet while Maren touched the painted crown, forcing her to finally
prompt, �Well? Doesn�t this one have a
story?�
�Sort o�,�
he leaned into her petting, which was spreading from the tattoo to his neck,
affectionately rubbing the stiff muscles there. �All I can �member is startin� the night drinkin� and chorusin� in
Paris, then next thing I know, I�m wakin� up three days later in Rome dress�d
as a priest and usin� a nun�s habit as a bib.�
�A priest?�
Maren guffawed at the image of Jack in black robes and a white collar, �God
help us!�
�Worst part
is, I did�n even know I got a �nother tattoo �til good ole Bootstrap point�d it
out a week later!� The laughter rang
harder from Maren�s mouth and she gripped her aching stomach. �I�m just lucky I did�n get anythin�
pierced,� more merry giggles erupted at that particular image, �look lower,
sweetheart, and ye�ll see me very first one.�
Wiping away
a happy tear, she glanced down at Jack�s lower back. A large bird, wings spread majestically in flames of fire, was
faded and distorted. Before she could
ask, Jack launched into a favorite narrative, �When I was thirteen, the Corban
sail�d straight into the heart o� a ragin� hurricane. Me own wee arse was swip�d right overboard �long with three other
sorry blokes. Now fallin� overboard
durin� a storm like that is usually a death sentence. Ye�d be surpris�d how quickly two objects can be seperat�d in
stormy waters. So everyone figur�d that
were the end o� me, littl� Cabin Boy Jack, but Cap�n Buck, he caught sight o�
me kickin� in that god-awful turf like Lucifer hiself was at me heels. I was the only one pull�d out o� the ocean
that day, only one that liv�d.� Jack
gestured toward an invisible scene, �The crew start�d jokin� how I rose from
the waves like the firebird from the ashes.
Cap�n Buck hiself said that I enter�d the water a sparrow and flew out a
phoenix. Well that night those sneaky
buggery sods got me pissin� drunk and tattooed me back, just as natural as ye
please.� Absentmindedly, he scratched his hairy chin, �Gawd, I miss those
bastards!�
�Why am I
not surpris�d,� Maren sighed, her hand wandering below the phoenix to the
guinea-sized scar on the small of his spine,
�to find yet �nother traumatic wound?�
�Aye that,�
he said reflectively, as if the subject had not bothered him in ages, �almost
had me six feet under and dinin� with the Grim Reaper.� Stroking Jack�s smooth back, Maren lined his
shoulders with kisses and found it much easier to touch him so provocatively
without his dark eyes upon her. �Those
first few years after I lost the Pearl,� he was relaxing, reclining into her
embrace to rest his back against the swell of her breasts and let her arms wrap
around his torso, �I was very�reckless and desperate to find her. Stepp�d on a lot o� toes, made a lot o� enemies,
did�n give a shit, but every drastic measure I took was useless. She was always just a tide ahead o� me, out
o� my reach forever seem�d like.
Understandably,� somewhat defensive, he turned his face towards Maren,
his lips brushing against her cheek, �how the Hell was I suppos�d to know the
curse was real? That the Black Pearl
had become a ghost ship?� She shrugged
and held onto him tighter, �After a while, me recklessness finally caught up to
me. Some hir�d hand stabb�d me while I
was spewin� outside o� a tavern one night.
It be by the grace o� Davey Jones, that he miss�d me kidney, not that it
was�n a close shave though. I spent
weeks recoverin� from that dagger bite, fever�d and pissin� blood. Lucky I had friends in the area who watch�d
me close, one o� them was a stinkin� ole drunk �Navy Brit� has-been that I�d
only known a few months, Mister Gibbs as ye know him.�
�Oh,�
absorbing this information, Maren absently traced the Pearl�s seal on his
chest, �Somehow, I can�t be imagin� Gibbs as a Navy man.�
Chuckling,
Jack inclined his head onto her shoulder, �Neither did the Navy, that�s why
he�s such a fine pirate. Now,� his
voice lilted impishly, �ye want to gander at me next tattoo? It�s in risqu� pla-ace,� singing the last
word.
�How
risqu�?�
As an
answer, he sat up, allowing the sheet at his waist to fall helplessly away, and
crawled forward to lie flat on his stomach.
Maren was again confronted with the overwhelming scene of Jack Sparrow�s
naked backside and her lungs constricted with the blood rushing to her
face. The lamplight sparkled against
his toned skin and every chiseled muscle was exaggerated with shadow. He was a fine platter of the human physique
offered to her eyes like a four course meal.
And as a debauched dessert, a brightly tacky tattoo marked his left arse
cheek of an impossibly busty mermaid rubbing herself lewdly against a large
anchor. Propping himself on the elbows,
Jack glanced coyly over his shoulder and knowingly winked; Maren�s heart
skipped a beat.
This was no
mere man, this was the devil himself come to tempt her!
�Wh-,� her
voice cracked, forcing her to swallow loudly and begin anew, �Why tattoo yer
arse?�
�I know
it�s a shocker,� smirking, Jack suggestively stretched, his athletic build
teasingly taunt, �but I was drunk.�
�No!�
Maren�s sarcasm seemed to recover quickly enough.
�And I
thought it�d be funny as fuck at the time.�
�Well, it�s
certainly givin� me the giggles,� Maren tittered, walking two flirting fingers
along his thigh. �Actually,� she
mentioned upon closer inspection of the bare-breasted mermaid, �she kind o�
resembles me, do�n she?� Mimicking the
painted siren, she kittenishly simpered over her shoulder with a pouting bottom
lip, ��Ceptin� me hair aint purple and me bosom is�n thrice me body weight.�
�Yes, but I
bet yer dead close to double,� he reached out and swiftly gave Maren�s right
breast a hearty squeeze.
Squeaking,
she slapped his hand away and retreated safely out of arm�s length by his
feet. She happened to glance down at
his right calf. �Jack?� she rubbed her
eyes, blinking and staring down at the tattoo and scarring on his leg, �Now
that�s obviously a drawin� o� shark, but be that�a-are those [teeth]
marks?� Upon the swell of his calf, a
silver shark appeared majestically sinister and dangerous, the pupil-less eyes
disconcerting, but not half as frightening as the crescent line of jagged
punctures on either side of the leg.
�I was
swimmin� �long the coast o� this wee Pacific isle paradise, splashin� with the
dolphins and whatnot, mindin� me own business, when suddenly all the porpoises
up and disappear. I mean they be
[gone], those twittery sods abandon�d me there!� He bobbed his head and babbled onward, slurring, �So let that be
a lesson to ye, Maren me gel, never trust a animal that smiles all the time,
but wo�n tell ye whats so damn funny!
Anyway, the treachery o� dolphins aside, I feel somethin� bump into me
leg, tuggin me �long for a bit. Then,
just as quickly, lets go. And what do I
see? A honest-to-god shark! Swear on me blood in the water, a son o� a
bitch shark as long as I am tall glidin� �round me, gettin� a good hard
look. So naturally, I think I�m dead
man, that�s it, me numbers up, welcome to the hereafter, so on and so forth. But nay, that man-siz�d monster only stares
me right in the eye, then�swims off.�
Maren found herself leaning forward, hanging on Jack�s every word,
�After I got to shore, the natives stitch�d me up and I got meself that stylish
tattoo as homage to the shark that for reasons unknown decid�d to spare me life
not to mention me leg.�
�Bit by a
shark,� Maren spoke flatly, �Jesus H Christ, ye be possessin� more lives then
an alley cat.�
�And just
as handsome,� he added, rolling over to embrace her. As it so happens, virginity is a hard habit to break, so the
barmaid�s immediate reaction to Jack�s unabashed frontal nudity was to snatch
up the blankets and cover his lap, squeaking demurely. He raised one questioning brow, �Modesty is
hardly call�d for in this particular situation, luv.�
�Sorry,�
chewing her cheek, Maren twirled a lock of golden hair nervously, �Only,
I-ye�never minds, where�s the next tattoo?�
A tawdry
finger motioned her close to his handsome face and Maren obeyed, drawing
gradually closer, inch-by-inch. Then
when her lips drew precariously near his own, he gestured downwards. Curious, Maren peered cautiously in that
direction. Jack had let the blankets
fall perilously low on his hips, but still held it over the more lengthy parts
of his anatomy; however, Maren could clearly see a tattoo on his lower (extremely
low in fact) abdomen, directly over the line of dark pubic hair. There was a flashy decorated windrose that
pointed decidedly south instead of north and under that broken compass were
large bold letters in dark purples and greens.
�It
certainly be a gallant location for a bit o� body art,� she giggled girlishly,
covering her mouth, �but dare I ask what it reads?�
�Khui,� he
sauntered.
�And that
means?�
��Tis
Russian,� he grinned, proudly, �For �cock�.�
Screeching
guffaws in delight, she hastily pulled the sheet over the foreign swear word,
her blush conquering her peach skin, �Ye label�d yerself Jack?�
Chuckling
in that smoky swaggered voice, Jack drew her into his arms and pecked many
kisses over her dimpling cheeks, �Aye, and might I add, many a Russian whore
has gotten a good long laugh out o� that one, not to mention a good long�well,
ye get the picture.�
�Oh, I
reckon I do,� and because he had presumed to mention previous liaisons with
prostitutes, Maren�s temper sparked, empowering her to bravely slide a
mischievous hand under the sheet and stroke his smooth thigh, all the while
nibbling at his collarbone.
Contented
to smolder under her hot caress, Jack groaned appreciatively, �Just so happens,
ye�ve locat�d �nother tattoo.�
�Really,� Maren
drew away, smiling flirtatiously, and lifted the blanket enough to peek under
at his thigh. The tattoo she discovered
was less then anticlimactic; there was a black oriental character,
straightforward and disappointingly ordinary.
�This better have a hell o� a story attached to it,� she muttered.
�Funny ye
should mention, �cause one fine day, me vast travels took me to the heart o�
Singapore where I dramatically indulged in every vice and debauchery imaginable
for approximately a forty-eight period, but as luck, o� perhaps even fate-its
just fate has a shrew tendency to be such a cold-heart�d bitch to ole Jack,�
the pirate really couldn�t help but babble while narrating, hands floundering
about, �Anyway, where was I? Oh yes, as
luck, o� fate whatever, would have it, I also did a spot o� good credence while
on me deprav�d adventure. A Buddhist
monk was bein� robb�d and though I usually avoid the �good Samaritan� act, I
did save him and bust�d a few heads while I was at it. Well, this tiny old man, he jabbers at me in
his native jibberish, do�n understand a word o� it mind ye, but the gist o� it
was he want�d to give me this �holy mark� in thanks. So here �tis.� He vauguely
scratched over the tattoo on his thigh, �Minds ye, I do�n �feel� any holier,
but it does make for a good luck charm.�
�Ye do�n
know what it means?�
�Not
precisely,� defensively, he conceded.
�Probably
means wanker, same as �khui�,� teasing him, Maren switched her hand to his
other thigh to taunt and tickle, �Aye, I bet that ole priest is somewhere in
China right now, gigglin� to hiself �bout the time he tattoo�d �dumbarse� on
that foreign devil.� She licked her
lips, relishing in the passionate dart of Jack�s charcoal eyes to her moist mouth,
and pointedly raised the sheet to peep down at his other toned thigh- �Mother
Mary and Joseph, ye bloody pirate,� she cried out, thrusting the sheet back to
expose the eight-inch slashing scar on his leg, �How many
near-death-experiences can one body possibly have?�
�Actually,�
a flash of merriment shown brightly in his golden grin, �That was hardly a
life-threatenin� wound [and] the tale behind it is rather a happy one.� Lying down among the pillows, he opened his
arms and beckoned Maren to snuggle with him.
Needless to say, she happily accepted, hugging his side and head
reclining on his chest. His voice was
cheerful and warm and had she not been so curious as to his sudden
sentimentality, she might have been lulled off to sleep, �I was nineteen and
skippin� from boat to boat, tryin� to find a steady ship to sail since the
Corban had sunk three years earlier, and one night I finds meself in this
notoriously tough pub, but I�m a young strappin� pirate with everthin� to prove
so I do�n think twice on the matter.�
�Well in this particular bar was a
beautiful, voluptuous, red-head�d tart-,� a forewarning cough interrupted Jack
and he quickly rectified, �not half as lovely as present company o� course, and
she was servin� drinks. Sure �nough,
she�s randy on yers truly, winkin� and smilin� and bendin� over just so. Unfortunately, some bloody stupid twit o� a
lad next to me, who fancies hiself prettier then [me],� stated as though this
was an immeasurable impossibility, �is mislead into thinkin� he�s the one she�s
sweet on. So we start glarin� at each
other real cold-like and attempin� to out drink, out dance, and out flirt the
other to get this vixen�s proper attentions.
Eventually, she drops her room-key right between the two o� us and me
and this seriously delusional young man all-out brawl for this littl� brass
trinket. It got pretty ugly too,
bottles, chairs, the occasional unconscious drunkard, whatever we could clobber
each other with.�
He smirked down at the rum and
drank a bit, �For the life o� me, I can�t �member who drew their sword first,
but I was comfortably sure I was goin� to have to kill this crazy bloke once me
blade was unsheath�d. Sad really, how
was he to imagine he was up �gainst one o� the most prestigious duelists on the
seven seas, fool did�n stand a chance.
I us�d the Hudson method, deflect-parry-thrust and �poof� no more bloody
stupid lad�only it did�n work out that way.�
Smiling at a memory unseen, Jack
dreamily drank more rum, �Insteady, this half-arse silly twit [also] us�d the
Hudson method and our thrusts were solidly met and forced downward, both o� us
cuttin� our thighs in the exact same place!
That�s how ye can tell we were both professionally taught, we fuck�d up
identically!� He started lauging, his
eyes crinkling warmly, and Maren joined in too, �Well then, I look down in
total denial at me bleedin� leg and he ganders down at his, then we glance at
each other�s wound�d thighs, then back down at our own �gain, �til finally, we
stare long and hard at each other still shock�d as hell. At last, I says to him, �Hallo, I�m Jack
Sparrow.� And he says to me, �Hello, I�m William Turner, but anyone who uses
the Hudson like that can call me Bill.��
A flash of that dashingly handsome
man from Maren�s dream fleeted across her memory. It was a great comfort to know that other times in Bootstrap�s
life were happier then the sorry episodes that she had witnessed through
Barbossa. She gazed up at Jack�s
distant expression, touching his cheek gently to turn his face towards her. They exchanged friendly smiles before joining
their lips together. Throwing a leg
over him, she intensified the kiss and permitted her hands to travel at leisure
over his chest and stomach. The
stirrings of desire flared up, only temporarily appeased by their previous
escapades. Jack was such a plethora of
contours and angles, smooth and rough, salty and sweet, the medium was
desperate to memorize all the dualities of his pirate body.
Wasting no time, Jack�s flighty
hands set to work wrapping around her waist to press flat against his torso and
pooling up her nightdress. His breaths
were already turning ragged in her ears and Maren�s heartbeat was
quickening. A new confident passion
welled in her, inspiring her to rise up on her elbows. Aggressively, her ruthless tongue plunged
into his mouth like his sex had thrust into her body prior. The rum was still fresh in his mouth, but
there was no denying the taste of saltwater and masculinity, the flavor of Jack
Sparrow. She became uncontrollably
[hungry] for him and snaked her fingers down to clasp Jack�s hardening
member. He gasped and groaned, pushing
his hips forward into her questing hold.
Suddenly, Maren felt cool air along
her backside and realized Jack was raising her gown over her hips, but what did
she care of modesty when those swift fingers moved to caress her core? Marvelous warmth cloaked her, causing her to
end the kiss and tuck her head into his neck to mewl quietly, all the while
spreading her thighs wider in a blatant invitation. Two fingers entered her sore and swollen folds, but any
discomfort was irrelevant to the growing need she was indulgently coming to
expect. She whimpered, tightening her
grasp on Jack�s erection and sliding her fist along the shaft. He answered her moan with a louder one of
his own.
Thusly, the lovers remained a long
time, pleasing and teasing each other with their hands, heads laying in the
crook of the other�s shoulder to pant and moan against sweaty skin. Occasionally, they would bite and kiss, as
desperate warnings of impending pleasure and the other would sadistically slow
to prolong the lovemaking. Eventually,
Maren�s sex became so wet that her thighs were slick with her desire and Jack
was faring no better, beads of seed already appearing at the head of his
length. And thus they might have finished,
had Maren not abruptly tore herself away from Jack�s fondling.
Before he could complain though,
she had crawled onto him, straddling his stomach, his stilted cock trapped
under her waiting channel. Bravely
holding his smoldering gaze, Maren removed her nightdress over her head with a
grandiose flourish and exposed her naked body to both the golden lamplight and
Jack�s chocolate eyes. If his stare was
hot before, it was nothing compared to the raging inferno that alighted his
vision as he studied her nude form. The
heat from her sex was leaving a damp trail against his stomach that he
thoroughly savored. His hands began
exploring of their own accord, while he muttered breathlessly, �Lovely, my god,
yer so incredibly lovely, Maren.� The
tiniest of pleased smiles dashed over her mauve lips and the blush mounted upon
her skin again. �Christ almighty,� he
gasped in holy reference, watching that red tinge spill down her face and neck,
coloring the expanse of her generous breasts and the delicate stretch of her
shoulders. �Pink!� rejoicing like a
child unwrapping a present, Jack cupped her bosom and touched the
cherry-blossomed nipples with his thumbs, �Sweet siren, they�re pink!�
Maren brushed her flaxen hair, now
tangled and messy, over her shoulder and laid down on top of Jack, seeking out
his lips for a noisy kiss. Her breasts
smashed against his chest and a shot of electric delight sparked when her own
nipples came in solid contact with his own brown nubs. While she nibbled his bottom lip and nipped
semi-playfully at his tongue, Jack grabbed her hips, indiscreetly pushing her
towards his pinned sex. The haughty
giggle that rumbled alto in her throat made Jack shiver in sheer menace. Winking and blowing him the most pouting
kiss, she steadied herself over his frenzied shaft and perched up on her knees.
With an almost thirsty vigor, Maren
thrust downwards, surrounding the pirate�s fiery cock with a soft rippling
satin that forced him to dig his nails mercilessly into her skin as he
moaned. The familiar heat was heavenly
and Jack barely restrained himself from flipping the woman over to fuck her
properly. However, Maren was less
inclined to commence bumping and grinding, the burning pain having flared up
again upon entry. Noticing the crossed
brow and the murmur of discomfort, he swiftly sat up and wrapped his brawny
arms about her, �Ye still sore?�
�Aye a littl�,� she melted into his
embrace, fingers grazing down his sweaty back.
�Well then,� breathless, he pressed
his lips atop her forehead, �Let�s forgo the acrobatics for the moment, not
that I do�n appreciate yer uncanny and excellent initiative, sweetheart. Ye sit back, relax and I�ll take the helm
�til yer right for a proper ride, savvy?�
A bit relieved, Maren nodded,
permitting Jack to lay her gently down, still joined together. He started tenderly, drawn out nudges with
his hips punctuated with lazily contented kisses, yet she had another course in
mind. The barmaid might have been sore,
but was by no means incapacitated; immediately, she wrapped her sultry legs
around those snake hips and locked her ankles around his tattooed arse,
relishing in the flexes and thrusts that drove from that muscled rump. She met his every prod with a grind of her
own and very soon they were worked up into a perspiring dance of driving
eroticism.
Jack rubbed his bearded cheek
against Maren�s soft one, whispering hoarsely in her ear, �Tell me-,� he
interrupted himself with a surprised groan when Maren rocked her hips in a
startling decadent manner, �-tell me how it feels.�
�Wha�?� was all she could manage,
having temporarily lost the ability to speak coherently.
�Damn it woman,� he bit her earlobe
in punishment and licked his wet tongue along the shell as an enticing apology,
�Tell�me�how�this-,� a particularly fervent thrust into that quivering passage,
�[feels].�
Confused beyond measure because the
welcome tingle of her climax was stirring distractedly in her belly, she
murmured, brokenly, �I d-do�n�umm, I ca�n�ah, Jack!�
His voice was sharp and
tantalizingly dominant, �Obey me Maren, I�m yer Cap�n. Obey!�
Somehow, she succeeded in clearing
her head enough to listen to him. Tell
him? Tell him what exactly? Did he want her to speak as he had spoken to
her before, with those naughty and depraved words? The very concept almost triggered Maren�s orgasm by itself! For her to do something so brazen and
erotic, how titillating! She rallied
her courage, not to mention her creativity, and began whimpering and wailing in
the most wanton of ways imaginable, �Aye Jack!
It feels, holy mother, it feels so good! Do�n stop�do�n ever stop, I want it, Jack. I want it all, I want it so hard-,� she
cried out as Jack�s plunges roughened, �Oh me-YES! I [need] it-need it a-a�ah-all!�
The waves of desire and passion were spreading over her nerves and
flesh, she was close and she knew she wanted Jack to come with her,
�Please! P-please�me�Cap�n Jack, oh
Cap�n OH!!� That sealed it.
Jack was amazed and insanely
aroused to hear such an exquisite dialogue from his medium�s swollen-kissed
lips and every dirty utterance and sluttish craving stroked his ego and libido
into an uncontrolled frenzy. But when
she screamed �captain� in that hysterical moaning, his climax crashed into his
straining body like a tidal wave, breaking every caged pleasure in his body and
releasing one of the most intense orgasms in his overly adventurous life. Maren came right along with him, convulsing
in a tremor so powerful she couldn�t breath and promptly bit her own tongue,
but even the pang of a sore back, as she arched impossibly high and taut,
couldn�t control her senses.
They collapsed together, Jack atop
Maren, gasping for air and utterly limp from such a night of primal exertions,
incredibly satisfied. �Wow,� Jack
finally managed to mutter, impressed, rolling off of her to fall exhausted at
her side and spitting her hair out of his mouth, ��wow.� With that said, he closed his kohl eyes for
a well-deserved rest.
Maren was a brief moment from
joining him when something flickered in her thoughts. �Wait a second, Jack,� nudging him till he begrudgingly opened
his eyelids again, she glared down at his body, �Ten! Ten tattoos be all I saw, where�s number �leven, eh?�
Blankly, he stared back at her as
if dumbfounded by her single mindedness, before shaking his head and
chuckling. He raised his foot over
their heads and pointed to a golden picture of a coin baring the visage of a
skull upon the outside of his left ankle.
�That�s the newest one, that is,� he yawned cheerfully, �just a souvenir
I suppose.� He didn�t explain of what,
but then, he didn�t have to. Maren
recognized it from Barbossa�s memories, a perfect replica of the Aztec gold.
The lamp was extinguished, the
blankets were straightened out, and the pillows distributed. One lengthy goodnight kiss later and the
lovers settled down to sleep in each other�s arms.
* * *
Right about this time, a singularly
disinterested ghost was located in the stables, sneaking up and scaring the
living shit out of the slumbering horses.
�[Cocksuckin� sons o� cunnys,]� she bitched half-heartedly, �[God
damn�d, I be sooo booorred! Why does�n
anythin� ever happen at night?]�
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The Haunting Place