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Sparrow in the Wind	By : LorandTab Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Crossovers Views: 3672 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the movie(s) that this fanfiction is written for, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Chapter 2

Around the Steer's Blood tavern the loud uproarious merry making came to a halt as Captain Jack Sparrow and Morgan Adams walked into the common room. The whispers began. Eyes followed their every movement and runs made their exits, ready to carry the word that Sparrow and Morgan were in league cooking up something. Moving to a darkened corner Jack made himself comfortable, very aware of the goings on around him. With a grand gesture he found his seat, propping his booted feet on the rough wooden table before him, a tankard in his hand. The contents lifted between words tossed down his throat. "How many uncles is it that you have, Morgan?"
Draining her own ale in a single gulp, she slammed the pewter vessel onto the table and glared into his eyes. �My business. Not yours.� Allowing her eyes to soften, she smiled. Her hand moved to caress his, her finger lightly trailing the palm. �The treasure, Jack,� she whispered conspiratorially. �Tell me about the treasure.�
Giving an exasperated huff, he rolled his eyes. "By the fires of Hades, what do ya think I'm trying to do woman?�
Dropping his hand, disgusted with herself for offering so tender a gesture, she sat back and lifted her tankard to the wench passing by in silent order for another ale. �I think you�re trying to see how much you can try my patience.� Crossing her legs at the ankle, she settled her gon hon his dark eyes. Brown eyes. Chocolate brown eyes. With an inward sigh she sat quietly and waited.
Instantly Jack felt a wave of regret wash over him. His outburst had been unnecessary and he quickly reigned in this patience. "Of course, Love. Have you known me to keep company any other way? Part of my charm I'm sure. But enough about me..." He waved away anything she would have countered with. "Back to the gnarled branches of your family tree. Uncles, Morgan. How many of them? By name please."
Her eyes suspicious, she gave in to his question. �There�s Modachai. Poor bastard lost his life at his brother�s hand trying to prove he was an Adams and find the treasure of the island. Richard � not much to tell about him. But the most notorious, of course, would be the height of heinous hostility himself, Dawg Brown.� Taking a large gulp of ale, she swirled the liquid in her mouth as if to take a bitter taste from her tongue. Looking into his gaze, her eyes narrowed. �See here, what do the names of my uncles have to do with the price of powder in Peru?�
"Ahhhhh, yes." His chair hit the floor with a loud plunk against the flooring. Leaning in towards Morgan's luscious lips, he winked. "Dawg Brown. The uncle the quite nearly duped you out of the Cut Throat haul."
Eyes widening as her lips twisted in a smile of disbelief. �Castration is seeming a better and better idea by the moment.� She fell back in her chair once again. �Reminding me of that blackguard? This is not the way to win my loyalty or admiration.�
"Oh but, sweet dove, once you know what I'm about you'll be cooing a sweeter song." He laughed, raising his hand and flicking his wrist much like a lady in use of a fan to hail the serving wench. "What if I were to tell you..." Her purposely drew out the suspense, drama being one of his main stays.
She waited the obligatory few seconds and then contemplated extracting her dagger again. Sliding her half-filled tankard to him, she glared at the wench waving her away. When they were again alone, Morgan tried to keep her voice low and pleasant. �Tell me your plan or I will dissect your organs and feed them to the crows.� Her words sliced, but her smile was purely sexual. �Tell me!�
"Ahhhh, such sweet words of love bind my heart true. I think not, Morgan. The crows will have a much taster feast." He snorted and shook his head, getting his wayward thoughts back on track. "Dawg Brown, was no simpleton. Cut Throat was only half of the riches to be had. The map...MY map...." Reaching down he rubbed his rear slowly to reinforce his claim.
Her eyes widened again, this time sparkling with a flashing topaz color that signaled the height of her excitement. Lord, she could feel it running through her. �Half the riches? You�re telling me that artistic ass of yours carries the key to even more wealth than even my father knew of?� After a moment of silence, she grinned and leaned forward. �What�s to stop me from slitting your throat and flaying the skin from your lovely nether region?� She almost cringed at the horrible thought of that masterpiece being disfigured.
His eyes narrowed for a split second wondering if she were likely to try. No. For all the threats she made, the woman wasn't stupid. "Go ahead if it suits you. But you know as well as I that we're better together than apart." He lowered his eyes demurely and then raised them back to her, serious now. "No rougher waters have you ever seen than these, Morgan. Reefs stretching miles out to sea, currents strong enough to pull a ship to its death, storms as black as Dawg's heart..." He went on and on listing the challenges of retrieving this particular treasure, finally slumping in his chair done with the telling.
The seemingly insurmountable odds thrilled her all the more. She knew that she could handle any challenge. After all, she had mounted Captain Jack Sparrow, hadn�t she? Her tongue ran languidly over her lips as her smile spread even more. �The words that you speak are meant to frighten?� She laughed, a rough, bawdy sound. �Darling, I�d consider them more foreplay than warnings.� She gave a deep, delightful sigh. �What do you need from me?�
"The Reaper, her crew." He returned her smile, filled with sensual promise. "And of course, most importantly you, Morgan."
She felt a sudden heat that settled squarely at the apex of her thighs, the rise and fall of her full breasts, firm and pronounced bound by the light corset worn under her piratical shirt, the only outward sign that she had heard him. � The ship and crew will be at your disposal but captained by me.� She accepted the tankard of ale the serving wench finally felt comfortable enough to serve. Dipping her finger in the liquid, she brought the digit to her mouth and sucked the ale lasciviously. �The crew and everyone on the ship � EVERYONE, will be under me.�
"Almost sounds delectable enough to join you and give up the Pearl." His eyes followed her fingers, watching them slide between her soft wet lips. The sight was near to torture as his shaft pounded with engorging blood.
Without thinking her head fell back slightly. The Black Pearl. Just the thought of what happened the last time she was on the ship was enough to enhance the moisture she felt accumulating even more. It was the closest she hver ver come to �to�
�Ah, Jack,� she said, her voice thick and sultry. �If you ever give up the Pearl I�d become a nun.�
"Couldn't have that, Love. I'll not be giving her up for just that very reason." He drew an inward breath through his teeth, his own memory perfect. Three days and three nights they had spent stowed away in his cabin. It was the most memorable time he'd spent in port.
She tapped her short nails on the splintered wood of the table, a hard decision having been considered and made. �You�ll have the Reaper and the crew. But there is one thing that I require of you.�
"Name it," he challenged, his chin coming up with a determined glint in his eye. There wasn't enough gold in the world to make him admit it but he would get on his hands and knees and lick her boots if she asked it of him. He wanted her. Wanted her badly. His blood was a rolling boil just being near her again and it was all he could do to keep his hands from straying in front of prying eyes. Always prying eyes.
As if sizing whether she could truly trust him, her eyes narrowed, then returned to the naturally large almond shape. Of course she couldn�t trust him. He was a goddam pirate. Leaning forward, she spoke in a whisper. �Take me to the Pearl. Take me, ravage me, do what you can to make me weak for you � for one night. Then, in the morning, our alliance begins.� Her hand moved to smooth his chin, her finger entwining the long black braids of his beard. �And you know that means, no?�
Jumping to his feet Jbowebowed and took her hand. "We're wasting valuable time, dove," he crowed, his feet fairly shuffling in place in his rush to be away from the tavern and onto the Pearl. Hades, relief!
With her arm practically pulling from its socket she jerked her wrist and pulled him off balance causing her own footing to stumble a bit. They ended up chest to chest, arms wound around each other for balance. �One night, Jack. One night. Agreed?�
"That's all I need." He lied, but as he'd sworn before he would perish in the fires of hell before he told her how much being near here effected him, the feelings it conjured. Love? certainly not. How would he even know? Jack wasn't at all sure he was capable of the emotion. But this was something beyond his normal rutting lust. It was like an unquenchable thirst, a fire that was to never be extinguished. It was a sharp blow to the head.
And then she did the unthinkable. Wrapping her fingers again around that uniquely wonderful beard, she pulled his face to hers and kissed him, hard and hungrily, in front of God and everyone present before saying loud enough for every ear to listen. �Then bed me and do your best to break me, Sparrow. And good luck to you.� She patted his bulbous rear. �You�ll certainly need it.�
A cheer rose up through the tavern from the onlookers. It was a challenge that many a man envied but none were brave enough to even approach the infamous Morgan Adams. But if their was a man alive that could meet her challenge, could give her the ride of her life, no one doubted that it was Jack Sparrow. The man had more tricks, on and off the sea, than could be recounted.
Impulsively Jack bent and scooped Morgan into his arms, bent on carrying her to the Pearl. He staggered, grunted and tried to suppress a groan. He had forgotten the woman that she was, the man that he wasn't. They were mismatched in size and it dictated problems in his current situation. "Ahhhhh...Dove...A leisurely stroll would suit you, would it not?" He smiled at her hopefully.
She chuckled, this time a heady sound filled with eroticism. �My legs could stand to be stretched a bit, now couldn�t they?� As she slid to the floor she smiled, moved toward the door, stole an ale from a passing table and then turned to look at Jack in mock innocence. �Coming, sir?� Her grin turned predatory. �Or are you saving that for later?� This time it was she who flounced toward the door.
A relieved sigh passed Jack's lips as he stood from the stooped position he'd found himself once Morgan was out of his arms. "Yes, dear. Coming, dear," he replied, placing a hand to his cracking back and hobbling towards the door knowing in one way or another, Morgan Adams would certainly be the death of him.
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Sparrow in the Wind