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The Scythe's Song	By : hallowedmaiden Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Het - Male/Female > Jack/Elizabeth Views: 2815 -:- 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
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The clock read 5:30 when she was roused from her sleep by someone curling their fingers in her hair, planting soft kisses on her neck. She relaxed into his touch, scooting closer to him, smiling when he slid his arm around her, sneaking his hand under her shirt to play with her flat stomach.
"Gotta get up, Lizzie," and she smiled again from his sleep-heavy voice. She had the distinct impression that the last thing he wanted to do at that moment was leave the bed, because the second he said that, he snuggled closer to her, and she wholeheartedly agreed with him.
"No, just a little longer," she murmured into the pillow.
"Come on, love, can't miss the plane."
"Fuck the plane."
That earned a delicious chuckle from him, and he evidently decided to double his efforts. She jumped when he started to tickle her, giving him a half-assed attempt at struggling against his hands, before giggling uncontrollably.
"Fine, fine, I'll get up."
Rolling over to face him, she appreciated the sight of a sleep-tousled Jack for a moment. His hair was rumpled and sticking in different directions, and his expression was a bit less guarded than it normally was.
"Hey," he said, smiling down at her.
"Hey."
Groaning, she sat up, rubbing her neck, shaking the sleep from her head. Her hair was rumpled too, extra wavy from sleeping with it wet. Suddenly fingers were turning her head, and a rush of warmth washed over her when Jack kissed her thoroughly as though he was trying to extract the life from her.
When he drew back, she gave him a little half smile, resting her forehead against his.
He gave her another quick kiss and climbed out of the bed, giving her an excellent view of his PJ trousers hugging his arse. She checked her phone while he dug an outfit out of the bag that was sitting next to the bed, and tried to calm her heart down from Jack's lovely assault on her mouth. The outfit that she had been wearing was laying in a pile in the chair next to the window. Yoga pants and a soft white t-shirt. Her limbs ached when she rose to put it on, making a mental note to buy some clothes once she arrived at Jack's place.
As soon as she was dressed, the bathroom door opened.
Jack stepped out wearing a faded gray v-neck t-shirt and black cargo shorts. A tattoo was peeking out from under the fabric near his heart, and she could also see a hint of one on his right shoulder. He had a couple of small ones on his hands, and he had the Pearl tattooed on his left shoulder. She also knew that he had a poem tattooed on his back. Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor. Quite a beautiful one, really, both the tattoo and the poem. And of course, his sparrow tattoo still sat on his wrist.
He reached up, ruffling his hair with his hands. She had once asked him, a long time ago, how long it took him to get used to not having the dreads. She didn't mind that much once she discovered that she could still tangle her hands in it just fine.
'I feel like I am 15 again every time I touch my head,' he had responded. Thankfully he had kept his beard, though she had occasionally wondered what he would look like without it. When he moved a bit closer to start digging in his bag again, she discovered that he had reapplied his cologne.
"Did I ever tell you that I love the smell of Drakkar Noir?"
"Oh yeah?"
"Mhm. I actually wore it for a little while at one point."
"Of course you would prefer men's cologne over perfume, love. Always full of surprises."
"My other go to is Dior's Poison. That one smells heavenly," she said, smiling as he cussed under his breath about the fact that 'the goddamn fucking piece of shit bag ate things'.
He finally found what he was looking for, a pair of metallic silver aviator shades, and hooked them into the neck of his shirt.
"Do you have everything ready?" he asked, standing up, displaying a small slice of tan stomach for her when his shirt shifted.
"I didn't have much to begin with, just the clothes I came here in, my bag, and the dress."
"Good, I'll be just a second, then we can go."
He tapped on his phone, presumably texting Chris, and then gathered everything that he had scattered around the hotel room, shoving it all into his bag. She waited patiently, texting Ringa a good morning and a general itinerary for her day, leaving out the part about the wild passionate sex she was going to have with Jack later. Then again, knowing Ringa, she had just assumed that anyway.
The bed sagged as she rose from it, stretching out her body. She padded to the bathroom to brush her teeth, spritz some perfume on, and pile her hair up in a high ponytail, just in time to catch Jack slinging the bag over his shoulder, sliding his shades onto his face with the other hand.
"Ready?" he asked over his shoulder.
"Yep, time to go melt outside."
"Could always wear fewer clothes."
"Oh, I'm sure that they would love to see me walking around topless."
"I wouldn't mind. I always said that I like you in a dress or nothing."
Damn him.
"Of course you wouldn't, you twit, but Indians frown on that sort of thing."
"You're a twit," was all he said in response, in the most petulant tone of voice he could come up with as they said goodbye to the hotel room.
She hated airports. She had always hated airports ever since she first stepped foot in one. Cheap food, cheap gift shops, rude people, and long lines made her dread the experience every time.
"I fucking hate airports," she made a point to tell him, wanting him to share her hate.
"Do you hate them more or less than you hate DMV's?"
That was a hard choice.
"More, probably. Too many things can go wrong, and they usually do."
They were on their way to the airport, and she was positive that Jack had broken several driving laws already.
"A couple of years ago, through an unfortunate series of events, I had to transport a set of rare books through luggage. I took every measure to make sure nothing went wrong, and they still managed to fuck it up."
She loved when he told stories, especially stories where someone had fucked something up.
"What happened?"
"Well, upon my arrival at the airport in San Francisco, I found out that they had lost the fucking bag. I think that was the first and only time that I have ever been close to getting escorted out of an airport by the cops."
That would even make her livid.
"It didn't help that the person whom I had the displeasure of speaking with about this whole ordeal was a head-up-his-ass SFSU college guy. He tried to argue that it was my fault that the bag was missing. God, that guy was so fucking condescending."
"And what did you tell him?"
She could imagine that whatever Jack told him involved a lot of threatening and cursing.
"I explained to him that the contents of the bag were worth more than his and his parent's and his grandparent's net worth combined, and if he didn't figure out where the fuck it was within the next twenty minutes, I was going to personally see to it that his entire extended family, present, and future, were going to spend the next century trying to locate the pieces of his corpse."
"Oh Christ, Jack," she exclaimed, laughing.
"The guy almost shit himself in panic and tried making like ten phone calls within the space of a minute. I think I might have traumatized him," he said, laughing at the memory too.
"Did you eventually find the bag?"
"Yeah, I found it when I figured out that Chris had accidentally forgotten to tell me that he had arranged for the bag to be shipped directly to my house, rather than on the plane."
"For fuck's sake, so you yelled at the guy for nothing?"
"No, no, he was still a condescending prick. He deserved to get knocked down a few pegs."
If they ever invented a device that allowed a person to view past memories like a movie, she was going to be a very happy woman.
The Mumbai Airport was a sprawling ecosystem of men and women on little scooters wearing fluorescent yellow jackets, other men waving around neon sticks, cashiers that were already sick to death of their job five minutes in, ticket booth people tired of getting yelled at for the 875th time in an hour, security people losing their mind over hearing the whirring of the metal detectors for six hours straight, and thousands of bustling people trying to get to their destination, which at an airport, usually meant hell regardless of where you are going, because everyone's destination was an airplane first.
Jack located an empty spot in the parking ramp that was fairly close to the door.
"Did you tell Chris that he had to get the car from here?" she asked as the climbed out of the car.
His face transformed into the expression it usually did just before he was about to throw something incredibly sarcastic at her.
"No, I was just going to park it and hope that he eventually figured it out."
This time she actually did stick her tongue out at him, earning her a snort. He dug his pack of cigarettes out, extracting one and placing it between his lips, then swore when he couldn't find his lighter.
"Of all the fucking things…," he muttered, his voice garbled from the cigarette. She had to giggle at him, and then her giggles turned into near shrieks when he flicked her off, and headed back inside the car to search.
"Are you sure we can even smoke here?" she inquired after she had calmed down, raising her voice so he could hear her.
"I don't really give a shit if we can or not. I'm going to, as soon as I find my goddamn lighter," he shouted back from inside the car. Finally, he emerged again, holding the purple BIC in his hand.
"Where was it?"
"In the crack of doom between the center console and the seat. Must have fallen out of my pocket somehow," he answered, lighting the cigarette and taking a deep drag.
"I'm surprised we didn't fall out of the car with some of the tricks you pulled on the way here."
"Are you really questioning my ability to drive?"
"Ooh, I'm so sorry, I forgot how sensitive you are about that."
He flicked her off again, smirking this time.
"If you recall, I was able to captain a ship with exemplary skill, so…"
"Right, because a ship and a car are exactly the same thing."
He pinpointed her with his classic argument glare.
"They both require a good eye for obstacles, a constant intricate knowledge of all possible routes, a good breadth of knowledge about how the ship or car actually works, and the ability to react to sudden situations with little to no warning."
She was about to open her mouth to give him another retort, but he cut her off.
"And you need to look infinitely more attractive than any other man in the vicinity while doing it, and I believe I checked all boxes that I mentioned," he drawled, leaning against the car with a smug look on his face. He finished off the cigarette and shoved the butt back in the pack.
"Of course you did, you arrogant tosser, I just think you are extra attractive when you flaunt your intelligence."
"Arrogant?" he protested, making a show of looking offended, his hand over his heart as though she had mortally wounded him. It earned him another fit of giggles.
"Come on, we gotta go check in and get food or something," he said, giving her a little playful shove when she walked over to him.
He hoisted his bag up, and they started their journey of torture. She already couldn't wait to get to Bath.
Airport security and the bag check in went smoothly. Now they just had to figure out where their terminal was and find some food.
"Any idea what you are hungry for?" he asked her, looking around for options as they walked.
Ringa always called her incredibly picky when it came to dining out, but she just knew what was good and what was bad. Nevermind that her opinions of those things changed daily.
"Food," she answered.
He turned to look over his shoulder at her, his face an expression of 'are we really going to play this game right now?'
She immediately became flustered like she always did when he made her choose, well, pretty much anything.
"I don't know, you pick something."
"Fine, let's have Subway."
"I don't really want Subway."
Sometimes she did it deliberately to get a rise out of him elsewhere, but she could never decide what she wanted at airports because she needed to have a filling meal to carry her through the flight, and it needed to taste good, and nothing tasted good to her at an airport.
"...Okay, maybe a burger?"
"No, I don't really want a burger either."
"Soup?"
"No…"
"Burrito?"
"Not in the mood for spicy…"
Then he stopped walking, turning around to throw his hands up at her.
"Lizzie, darling, you are my favorite person in the world, but damn you are annoying when it comes to food."
"I hate airport food," she said petulantly, crossing her arms. She was his favorite person? Part of her felt like she should be silly for even questioning that, and part of her was convinced that it wasn't actually true.
"Would you rather spend the nine-hour flight gorging yourself on airplane snacks?"
"Well, no…"
"Then pick something. Just spin around and we will eat wherever your finger is pointing at when you stop."
"I guess Subway is fine…"
For just a second, he looked like he really wanted to start an argument, then he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"I literally suggested that the first time," he muttered, but she could hear the smile in his voice.
She gave him a faux-dangerous look, arching her brow.
"You're fun to annoy," she said, tittering.
"And why is that?"
They headed into the place when they finally found it, and she became curious about what sort of sandwich Jack liked.
"Because you always buy into it."
"Maybe I just like it when you try to annoy me."
She took a moment to reflect on and appreciate the fact that even if they had spent so long apart it felt like no time had passed at all. But a question had been niggling at her since last night. Why had it been so long? She was trying to ignore it, but it would pop up uninvited every time she had a supposedly quiet moment in her mind.
"Hello, sir, what can I get for you?" the clerk asked when Jack stepped up.
"Give me a foot long chicken teriyaki on Italian herbs and cheese, toasted, with pepper jack cheese."
"Teriyaki?" she whispered behind him. "I would have pegged you for a tuna kind of guy."
"Tuna's nasty."
"And what can I get for you, ma'am?"
"Give me a roasted chicken, um...foot long, on wheat bread with pepper jack cheese, toasted."
'Veggies for you sir?" another employee asked.
"Everything but pickles, and a ton of horseradish," Jack answered, causing her to look round at him.
"You do actually want them to close the sandwich, don't you? And what's wrong with pickles?"
"Pickles are nasty too. Do you like pickles?"
"They're alright, I guess..."
"Veggies for you, miss?"
"Oh sorry, um...green peppers, black olives, lettuce, cucumbers, a bit of jalapenos, and pickles. Oh, and southwest sauce."
"Gross," she heard Jack say under his breath.
"Well, I think that horseradish is disgusting."
"Good thing you aren't eating my sandwich then, huh?"
They finished eating in about twenty minutes, putting them at 7:45. They had 45 minutes to find their terminal and if she knew anything about airports, something was bound to get in their way between now and then.
"I hate airports," she said again.
"You hate a lot of things, love. For example, you hate stop lights, alarm clocks, uncomfortable chairs, small beds, hard pillows, waiting, and bad TV."
"Stoplights make me wait, hard pillows and small beds make it so I can't sleep, uncomfortable chairs are just a pain in the arse, alarm clocks make me stop sleeping, and bad TV just fails to entertain me."
"I can entertain you and keep you from sleeping," he said with a suggestive glance as they came up on their terminal.
She only responded with a roll of her eyes and texted Ringa to tell her that they were about to leave. They sat in silence until the lady at the counter announced that they were starting to board.
Once they made it up there, Jack produced their boarding passes and handed them over. The lady looked at them for a moment, and then called another employee to look at them, and then made a phone call while still looking at them.
She could see Jack starting to get annoyed out of the corner of her eye. When they didn't say anything to him, he apparently got tired of waiting.
"Is there some kind of problem?"
The lady looked like she was about to deliver the worst news on the planet.
"I'm sorry sir, but we have overbooked the first class section of the plane. There is only room for one of these tickets."
Oh shit...
A beat went by, and then another beat, and then Jack fixed her with his classic 'are you fucking kidding me' glare. She visibly got a little nervous.
"These tickets were ordered five days ago," he snapped, jabbing his finger into them just as the woman placed them back on the counter.
"I'm sorry, sir, but there appears to have been a mistake. We can only seat one of you in first class."
"One of us? And where do you suppose the other one is going to sit? On top of the plane?"
The image of one of them holding on for dear life made her physically tremble from holding in laughter.
The woman typed frantically on her keyboard for a second.
"There is one economy seat open, one of you can certainly take it."
"Why can't you make the person that took one of our seats take it?"
"I'm terribly sorry sir, but we cannot relocate passengers who are already seated."
She watched Jack try to reign in his temper as the seconds ticked by.
"Already seated? What the fuck does that have anything to do with it? I will re-seat them if you won't."
Some of the passengers that were waiting in line started to glance at him nervously.
"Sir, please don't use that kind of language with me-"
"Sorry, sorry, it's not your fault, but you can tell whoever coordinates the seating on the plane to-" Jack paused, and appeared to rethink whatever it was that he was going to say.
"Tell him or her that I dislike them very much."
Inside, she was laughing hysterically, but the only amusement she showed on the outside was a small smirk that upturned the left corner of her mouth.
"Jack, it's fine," she said quietly, giving him a reassuring brush of her fingers on the side of his stomach.
That seemed to rein him in a bit. He slid one of the tickets back across the counter.
"Give her the first class seat, I'll take the economy one."
"What?" she whispered, but he ignored her.
"Yes, that will be alright sir. Please enjoy your flight, and sorry for the inconvenience."
He walked away, shaking his head in frustration.
"Jack!"
"Lizzie, this isn't an argument. You sit in first class, I sit in economy. End of story."
"But-"
"Unless you can figure out a way for you to sit on my lap…" he said as he looked over his shoulder with a small smile on his face.
"I don't think they would be very pleased with that," she responded, sighing. When Jack made up his mind, it was usually quite difficult to convince him otherwise. They walked through the terminal, and she glared at the back of his head the entire way to the plane.
As she was settling her bag into the seat, Jack sidestepped by her, pausing to brush a quick kiss on her neck. He wiggled his phone at her, reminding her that she could still talk to him over text.
She really hoped that the person sitting next to him wasn't going to be annoying.
It was an agonizingly long wait until the no cell phone light switched off. She grabbed her phone immediately and tapped out a message to Jack.
'Finally.'
'You're telling me.'
'Who are you sitting next to?'
'Some business guy. Seems too preoccupied with his laptop to notice me.'
'Good. So, speaking of TV, what have you been watching lately?'
'Uh oh, is this going to turn into 20 questions?'
'Just curious. :)'
'Uh-huh. Idk, I like House, Game of Thrones is alright, Black Sails entertains me purely from an experience perspective, Dexter was good until like...the 7th season…'
'House is awesome. And I agree about Dexter. 'Let's drive into a hurricane, pretend I died, then run away to become a lumberjack. Utter bullshit.'
She had been incredibly pissed about that finale. Ringa had heard her bitching for a week straight.
'LOL. Yeah, pretty much my reaction.'
'What about films?'
'Black Hawk Down is one of my favorites. I like Man on Fire...uhh...The Dark Knight...any Tarantino films…You?'
None of his responses surprised her even a little bit.
'Deadpool was hilarious. Clerks, Lord of the Rings, I like horror movies too.'
'Interesting choices. Music?'
'Michael Jackson, any rock from the 80's, some of the 70's stuff, some techno. A bit of everything really. You?'
'I frequently listen to Iron Maiden when I am tuning in my garage. I think the guys are a bit sick of them by now. Otherwise, I like Zeppelin, Queen, Bowie, Metallica, etc. I have quite the collection at my place if you want to peruse it.'
'I could have guessed Maiden from the shirt you had me wear.'
'You looked hot in that shirt.'
'I always look hot. :P'
'Not going to argue there.'
'So what real estate do you have these days?'
"Well, I have the main one in Bath, I have a little safe house in Alaska, I have a beach house in Greece, I still have the little cabin in Jamaica, and I just sold the apartment I had in California."
'We had fun in the cabin.'
'Haha, on the floor, on the couch, on the kitchen counter, the shower, the bathroom wall…'
'You forgot the bed ;)'
'There was an ellipses there.'
'Can you still play the guitar?'
'Sure can. Why, want me to play for you?'
'Is that even a question?'
'Come up with a couple of tunes then.'
'K. Thanks for letting me have this seat, by the way.'
'Not a problem, love.'
'I do need to buy some clothes and stuff at some point.'
'Aw, I was hoping that you could just keep wearing my t-shirts.'
'I could just wear nothing. Speaking of, you wouldn't happen to have a pool would you?'
'I'm not sure the guys could contain themselves if you walked around the house naked. Then I would have to kill them, so…'
'And you could contain yourself?'
'I never said that. And yes, I do have a pool.'
'Good.'
'Why, getting ideas?'
'Maybe. You could always walk around the house naked too, you know.'
'Who says I don't already?'
'Jack, if you really did that, I am sure that Chris would be gay by now.'
'I'm flattered, darling.'
'Ooh, a movie is starting.'
'...Taking Lives? Of all the movies to play on an airplane…'
'Hey, Angelina is pretty hot.'
'Oh yeah?'
'I would do her.'
She had had a girl crush on Angelina every since Lara Croft: Tomb Raider.
'Let's watch. The movie, that is.'
'Fine, talk later.'
Everything had been going fine, the movie was fine, the flight was fine, the seat was fine, it was all just fine right up until she remembered the sex scene that the damn movie had.
Her knickers were soaked, and there had been a non-stop blush heating her skin for fifteen minutes. Not because of the scene itself necessarily, but because her brain decided to replace Ethan and Angelina with her and Jack, and now that was all she could fucking think about.
The physical torture led her to arrive at an idea that was most definitely insane, but fuck, she needed some kind of relief, and she wanted Jack to share her frustration.
Picking up her phone again, she held it for a moment, making sure that she really wanted to go down this path.
Of course she did.
She tapped out a message with shaky fingers, biting her lip with both anticipation and excitement.
'Wanna know what I'm thinking about?'
'I always want to know what you're thinking about.'
'I'm thinking that I want your mouth wrapped around my clit.'
She could just picture his sharp intake of breath, the shifting he was doing in the seat, and the looking around that he was doing to make sure that no one noticed. She could also picture his devilish little smirk.
'Damn love, feeling a little inspired? ;)'
'Maybe.'
'What else are you thinking about?'
'I'm thinking about how sexy your face looks when I have my mouth wrapped around your cock.'
'Not as gorgeous as your face looks when I slide it into you, inch by inch, nice and slow.'
Her breathing grew a little heavier, and the ache between her legs was starting to become uncomfortable.
'I love the way you feel when you're inside of me. So long and thick.'
'It's all for you, darling.'
'Are you hard right now?'
'What the fuck you do think? You're killing me.'
'I bet you wish you could touch yourself.'
She could feel him starting to unravel from here.
'I want to touch you. I want to fuck your sweet little cunt until you can't even remember your own name.'
God, she wanted him. She wanted him so fucking bad she thought she might die.
'Christ Lizzie, are you actually trying to kill me?'
Insanity. It was pure insanity toying with him like this, but she loved every second of it.
'It's for making me wait.'
'The second we walk through the door of my place, you're mine.'
The rest of the flight was the most agonizing four hours of her life. They spent the entire drive to Jack's place in silence, both too out of their minds with desire to form coherent thoughts. It was a miracle that Jack managed to communicate anything to anybody since they had gotten off of the plane.
She didn't even make it all the way into the house before Jack was pushing her against the door, crushing her mouth with his, his hands wandering everywhere, under her shirt, dragging it up, and then tugging her ponytail out to let her hair fall in a mess around her face. Only struggling a moment with the button of his shorts, she shoved them down while he reached a hand behind her to unhook her bra.
Her hands went to pull his shirt over his head when he pushed them back against the door, making quick work of her yoga pants.
"Leave it," was all he said, his voice a delicious rasp. He shoved his own boxers down, not even giving her a chance to see him before he was lifting her, wrapping her legs around him tightly, attacking her mouth again with an intensity that made her skin light on fire.
"...Jack, please…"
Then he was there, his cock nudging at her, sliding against her soaking wet slit, and she couldn't help the desperate moan that spilled from her, turning into an almost violent noise when he entered her, making sure she felt every inch of him, making sure that she knew exactly who was inside of her, filling her, completing her, giving her life.
She clawed her fingernails up his back, clutching it for a moment when he withdrew and thrust, pushing her body against the door with the force of it, and then she tangled her fingers into his hair as he took her, gripping her hips as he drove into her, hitting that glorious spot inside of her that had her biting her lip, tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes from the pleasure of it.
He slowed his thrusts a fraction, fastening his mouth to her neck.
"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" he growled against her skin. She nodded frantically, trying, reaching, needing him to send her over the edge.
"Jack, I-I can't-"
"Fuck, I know love," he whispered, his voice heavy with need, increasing the speed of his hips, fucking her only the way he could, claiming her mouth only the way he could. Then she was there, her insides rupturing into a thousand tiny explosions, a high keening cry muffled into Jack's shoulder, her core clenching around him, her nails digging into the fabric of his shirt.
Through the blinding haze, she felt his thrusts become erratic, uneven, and she managed to find a small slice of focus.
"Now, Jack," she whispered into his ear, and then he was there too, slamming himself into her with one final thrust that pinned her against the door, cursing into her neck as he came, his body trembling against her.
"Fuck me," he breathed, still inside her, still keeping her wrapped around him. Her heartbeat was out of control, and she could feel his against her chest, racing.
"I think I just did," she responded once she thought she could form coherent speech. It earned her a post-sex Jack Sparrow chuckle that made her clench around him in a delicious aftershock.
"You're bloody magnificent, love."
He gently let her down from him, withdrawing from her at the same time, earning him a whimper of protest.
"Lizzie, you have to give me a few minutes. I'm old and decrepit," he insisted, encircling his arms around her.
"Oh god, I don't know if I could handle another round of that. I think I could fall asleep right here."
"I have a bed for that. A rather comfortable one, if you feel up to walking there."
"I think I can manage walking, Jack, just maybe not in a completely straight line."
"I really am good, huh?"
She gave him a half-assed glare before bursting into a fit of quiet giggles, tugging on his hair.
"Come on, I can show you the house tomorrow morning. I am about to fall asleep standing too."
He captured her lips in a tender kiss, and then took her hand and led her down the dark hallways to a sprawling master bedroom, and from what little she could see in the dim lighting, it was gorgeous.
Black hardwood floors, charcoal walls, a huge fireplace, a gigantic bathroom off to the left, a sitting area off to the right, several wall length mirrors, with a smattering of pictures that she couldn't make out.
And the bed. It was a king with black satin sheets and fluffy black pillows.
"The shower's in here love," he said, finally stripping off his shirt, and she didn't actually hear what he had said because she was too busy staring at him.
"...Lizzie…"
"Sorry, what?"
"The shower. It's this way?"
She glared at him again as he tried to hold in his laughter.
"I wasn't staring at you," she lied, blushing, stalking past him into the bathroom.
"Of course you were darling."
She forgot what they were talking about when she saw exactly how large his bathtub was, and precisely how many water jets it had.
"We can use that later. Quick shower, then bed," he said from behind her, winding his arms around her stomach.
The shower was huge too, with ceramic tiles and a showerhead that had about 45 different settings.
"Do you use the 'light mist' setting often?" she teased as he turned the water on.
"It does rather feel like waves on a ship, so once in awhile."
"Also, out of curiosity, not that I am complaining that you fucked me against your front door, but did you tell anyone who might be here to not be here?"
He let out a snort.
"Why, don't like an audience?"
"Not particularly."
"Of course I did. Actually, I told Chris, and my resident mechanic Shawn, you'll meet him tomorrow, that if they valued their jobs, lives, or well, anything, they wouldn't come within 100 feet of the house."
"100 feet? What, did you plan on not making it inside?"
"I wasn't holding my breath, especially after that torture you put me through on the plane."
"That was fun," she said, giggling again.
"Maybe for you, but I was stuck in that little stupid ass seat. You're lucky I wore somewhat loose shorts."
"I'll remind you that you let me have the first class one."
"And I would do it again now, but you really made me question my life choices for about five minutes."
She playfully swatted his chest, then stepped into his arms, just enjoying his presence. When they stepped out of the shower, he wrapped her in the fluffiest softest black towel in existence.
Toweling off himself, he brushed a quick kiss on her lips.
"I'll be in the bed, gotta text Chris really quick."
"Ooh, kissing and telling?"
He flashed her an 'are you serious' look, smirking.
"Not a chance. Actually, you are the first woman that has even been inside this bedroom."
That made her sober up a bit. She sometimes forgot how guarded Jack actually was, and how lucky she was that he let her in as much as he did. Padding to the bed, she slid under the covers, slid into heaven rather, the satin sheets making her sigh in contentment.
He finished tapping on his phone, scooting over to kiss her and then turned off the lamp.
"See you in the morning, love."
She had never fallen asleep so easily.
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The Scythe's Song