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Sweet Revenge	By : EvilE Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Het - Male/Female > Jack/Elizabeth Views: 10956 -:- 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
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Chapter 4: Sweet Revenge

“Jack,” she whispered softly, her eyes still closed.

“Mmmm.”

“What do you want?”

He sighed. “Why does everybody keep askin' me that?”

She opened her eyes to observe him, looking at her from above. “What do you want with me? What are you scheming now?”

“Why do I have to be scheming something to want the pleasure of your company?” he muttered, in a tone that reeked of sarcasm. “Maybe I'm starving for a little” - he lifted his chin for emphasis - “pleasant conversation.”

“Is that so?” She was becoming annoyed. She was chained to this bunk, sore and headachey, and worried for Will and her shipmates, and he wanted to play Twenty Questions? Well, she would teach him. “Well, I'm starving, period. I haven't had food all day, my head hurts, and I need to use a... a chamber pot.” At this last, she blushed, uncomfortably discussing her bodily needs with a man. Even Jack.

“Sorry to hear that, love.”

“Jack! You are not, or you'd release me from these silly chains and help me.”

His smile was grim. “Ah, that I won't do. You see, you and unlocked chains are a dangerous combination, if memory serves.”

“Ha! Like you and your rum, which, from the smell, seem to be damn near inseparable.”

“Ladies shouldn't swear,” he chastised.

“I'll swear if I want to swear. I've been part of a ship's crew, and I can swear my piece, I assure you.”

“Then you're not a proper lady?” he said, leaning over her and laying one hand on her waist. “I could've sworn you previously professed to be too much of a lady for certain things. Rum was one of them.”

At the mention of that particular exchange, she remembered that evening by the fire on the island. She had, indeed, refused to drink excessively, choosing instead to fool him and use the rum to fuel a signal fire. What she also recalled was that her thoughts of Jack frequently seemed to center there, on that island, on what could have happened instead. She felt warm, all of a sudden, and was aware of his hand on her side, so hot it almost burned her through the thing fabric of her dressing gown and chemise. This was bad.

“So are you a lady, Miss Swann? Or not?” He was closer still, his hair brushing her chest, his face inches away. “I have to warn you, if you say you are, you'd be a liar, which would then mean you were not a lady after all. So, save some trouble and admit you're not, so we can let bygones be bygones, eh?” His tone was light but his eyes blazed with what looked like anger.

She drew a shocked breath and her blood began to sizzle. “You mean to seduce me!”

“Why not? That's what women want when they kiss you. Unless, of course, they mean to kill you. Which is what you did.” He jabbed an accusing finger in the center of her breasts.

“You're drunk.”

“No more than usual. Now, about that... seduction.”

He bent over and Elizabeth drew another quick breath, parting her lips, positive he was going to kiss her. Instead, he paused inches from her lips, and she felt her heart knocking against her ribs. “Jack, stop it. Let me go.”

“You don't want me to stop. Admit it,” he whispered against her lips.

“That's not a fair question,” she whispered back.

“Oh, I think it's a very fair question. But there are other ways of answering it. Let's see.”

And he pressed his lips to hers, gently, so gently Elizabeth was reminded of Will. Will. She held herself as still as possible, willing her heart to cease knocking against her ribs, hoping he would conclude she was uninterested and move on to some other means of tormenting her. But then he angled his head and slanted his mouth over hers in a hard, bruising kiss that left no doubts about who was doing the kissing. Not Will. Jack.

When she felt his tongue, she whimpered, just a tiny sound, not really anything, but she heard and he heard and she wished she could take it back. He kissed her more thoroughly then, sliding his left hand behind her neck to lift her toward him, claiming her mouth completely. She felt dizzy.

When he eventually pulled away from her lips, he was breathing hard and she could see the fierce glint in his eyes. He seemed to be fighting some inner battle to which she was not privy, and she sat up, looking at him face to face.

She wanted him. Or, she wanted something, she knew not what, but she needed an answer to the unrest she'd suffered since they last met. This might be her only chance to answer that need, to assuage her guilt...yes, guilt. That was what she felt about Jack. She was sorry for what she did, for tricking him and causing him pain... that's what this was about, she was sure. He was angry with her and meant to make her pay.

And he seemed to want to inflict that anger on her, physically. But not violently.

As she pondered that, he grasped her face between his hands and kissed her again, hard and urgent. They fell back against the unforgiving bunk, and suddenly she felt his weight atop her. He had climbed in and he settled, quite naturally, between her legs. His weight on her chest felt good, so good that she almost forgot the attack, the bump on the noggin, the shackles, Will. Almost.

“Jack,” she said between labored breaths, pulling her mouth away. “You must unchain me. This is ridiculous.”

“Not ridiculous, love. Revenge. This is sweet, sweet revenge.” His smile was sardonic, and he bent his head to kiss her again, so thoroughly she felt weak all the way down to her toes. It was terrible, wrong, delicious, intoxicating, and she had no way to stop it and no will to combat it. All rational thought ceased when she felt the warm pressure of his hand on her breast.

“Jack!”

“Save it, love. We're just getting started.” He peered down into her eyes as he lazily brushed his thumb back and forth against her suddenly pert nipple. She felt the sensation flicker through her insides.

“Jack... how dare you,” she managed, and she realized too late that she sounded absurd, given that her cheeks were flushed and her breathing heavy and it was quite apparent that he was inducing this effect in her.

“Still trying to be that lady, eh, Elizabeth?”

She could only shoot daggers at him with her eyes as he lowered his eyelids, clearly amused, and bent to press a kiss against the sensitive skin below her ear. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her protests temporarily ceased.

Over the next few minutes, she was dimly aware that her dressing gown had been removed and her chemise lowered, and Jack's beard was brushing her breasts and his hands were on her legs and bottom and back, warm and rough, and then his mouth was at her breast and she was so confused, so caught up in the new sensations that she didn't even realize what was happening. She heard soft cries, and realized they were coming from her throat, and Jack was naked to the waist and he was moving on top of her, and then they were nose to nose, and he stopped, looking down at her.

“Jack?”

His only answer was a slow, grinding movement against the apex of her thighs that left no mistake as to the extent of his desire for her. She felt light-headed, and burned for his touch. She felt like she would melt if he didn't touch her. She heard sounds beside her and realized he was groping for the night table beside the bunk. Suddenly she felt cool metal against the warmth of her throat. She realized it was his dagger.

“Jack?”

His cheeks were deeply flushed and his eyes were glittering and hard. Speaking obviously cost him some effort, as he practically spat out the words. “This is where I should tell you I'm not sorry, and leave you for dead.”

“What?” Words swam through Elizabeth's brain, but all she could think of was Jack, the hard muscle of his chest pressed against her. He was on her lips and in her throat and on her skin. She was drowning in him. Vaguely it registered that he was angry again. “What's the matter?”
In answer, he pressed the dagger harder against her throat. “Ow! That hurts.”

“It should bloody well hurt. It bloody well hurt to be shipwrecked and eaten by a sea monster, all the while knowing you were made a fool of by snooty, backstabbing woman!” he growled. “I should kill you, so we'd be even!”

“Jack, you're still alive,” she prompted, still finding her way out of the haze in her brain. “So killing me would hardly make us even.”

His breathing came in deep pants, as he shifted on top of her and loosened his grip on the dagger. “I can't decide if I'd rather kill you or make love to you.”

“I think I'd prefer the latter, although if you don't get on with it I might opt for the first,” she whispered.

“I think I'll first opt for the second, followed by the first, or perhaps followed by more of the second,” he answered.

Her only reply was an instinctive lifting of her hips, to meet his, a silent plea. “Damn it, Elizabeth,” he groaned, and flung the dagger aside.

Relief washed over her as she realized he couldn't do it. He couldn't kill her, even for revenge. Somewhere beneath the madness and swaggering egotism lay a decent man. She had been right to believe in him after all.

It was she who was depraved.
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Sweet Revenge