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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Survival was sometimes the only thing a pirate could hope for, could strive for. Many on the sea had known the frustration of cutting their losses in favor of plundering another day. Dawg had known few of those days in his piratical career but thanks to his wench of a niece he was coming round from a true encounter with Davy Jones Locker. With slitted eyes he stared across the street watching the whore who had crossed Morgan's path so many months earlier.
With more than a little trepidation and a tremendous amount of nervous excitement, Fontaina squelched the incessant beating of her heart and used her best sashay to ease toward the man she knew was watching her. She was used to being ogled, long ebony ringlets, a trim waist and generous bosom had ensured that. But this was different. This was the pirate known as Dawg Brown. Stopping just short of him, giving the large piece of masculinity time to approve of her ample charms, she smiled sensuously. �Like what you see, love?� She prayed he did. Morgan�s plan depended upon it.
With the speed of a lighting strike on the open sea, Dawg's hand shot out and wrapped around the harlot�s upper arm, hauling her flush against him. "Like what YOU see?" His voice bore the years of sea air and salt water, gravely as the grave. "Morgan. Where is she?"
A thrill that had long seemed dead to her flared to life at the biting pain the vice-like hand inflicted upon the soft flesh of her arm. Keeping her resolve, her eyes lowered to be veiled by thick, long lashes as she looked up at him from under heavy lids. �Is Morgan Adams so much a woman that she puts all others to shame?� Her free hand moved to sneak up the strong chest only to feel the heat begin. The plan, she reminded herself. Morgan�s plan. �I�m certain I could please you if only given a chance.�
Dropping his hand from her arm, the steel band of his forearm bound her waist. "What will please me, wench, is for you to give up the whereabouts of Morgan." His free hand rose to her breast and squeezed mercilessly. "Now."
Her eyes quickly turned glassy with moisture as the bruising pressure continued. Her heavy breast seemed engulfed by his hand, no small feat considering her munificent endowment. She tried to ignore the stiffening nipples as the rough palm squeezed harder, the ache exciting her, causing her to curse her body�s reaction. �Morgan comes and goes as she pleases. Much like yourself.� The tip of her tongue slipped out to moisten her drying lips as she fought to keep speaking. �It�s been half a year since you�ve set foot to port, has it not?� She looked into his eyes and suddenly saw him as he must look on board his vessel. Commanding. Ruthless. Sensually tyrannical.
"Aye. That it has," he hissed, a maniacal grin thinning his lips as his fingers moved to pinch the puckered nipple, twisting and torturing the thick bud. "So, it's to my ship you'll come and by night�s end. I'll have what I want one way or another." He shoved her away from him. With a whisk of his hand had her turned and male fingers locked around the back of her neck to guide her ahead of him.
She dug her heels into the wooden planks of the makeshift sidewalk. �No,� she said with force as she attempted to turn to him, only his harsh hand keeping her facing forward. �She�ll see you. She stays near the docks.� With a tremulous voice, she spoke volumes. � The Reaper is near. If she sees you, you�ll lose your advantage.�
Dawg drew up short, his grip lessening a fraction as her words sunk in. The sound of his neck as he turned his head was as what one would expect from an ignited powder cask, popping and cracking. His eyes locked where the port would have been if not for shops and the market, but it was as if he could see right through them, as if he could feel the Reaper. The living, breathing, Reaper. With a heavy laugh he pulled the wench back against him tilting his hips against her rounded posterior so that she could feel his almost constant state of arousal. "I've only part of what I want now and thus far you've proven valuable. Don't disappoint me." It was less than a threat but more than a warning. His words were menacing.
Her hips thrust backwards slightly to increase her balance; she used the moment to rub her well-formed, unbustled firmness against the hard rigidity she pressed into. �I have a room,� she said heatedly. �It�s small and far from grand, but there�s a perfect view of the ship she captains.� Her hand moved slightly behind her to rest on his solid thigh, her fingers scring ing into the flesh under the material of the trousers. �She trusts me.� Would that make him want her?
"My niece is no fool. Why trust you?" He questioned, removing his hand with a shove, his lip curling in a sneer. If the woman knew what was good for her she would be beating a quick trail to the room she mentioned. If not, he would just as easily take her there for everyone to watch.
�I did a favor for her once,� she breathed, turning slowly to face him. �She needed to get past your men to see her other uncle. Mordechai, I think his name was.� She took his hand in hers and began to back away willing him to come. �We were women in need at the time � she needed my clothing and I needed her money.� Peering around the corner of a constantly inhabited saloon, she tugged him to follow her. �Need makes strong bonds, no?� The slickness between her thighs created a strange effect as she hurried along. Stopping suddenly, she pointed to a nearby constantly inhabited saloon at the end of the populated street. �I have a room at the top of the back stairs.� Her violet eyes looked in to his with something akin to pleading. �As you see, it�s situated just beside the docks." She felt a burning desire to forget the crowds, curse Morgan and beg him to do with her as he would.
Dawg was a man to always follow his gut and his gut was telling him now that the woman was telling him what she knew, and that she would continue to do so. He was also a man with a keen nose and his nose was telling him now that the wench was not just out to make a coin, that she was thoroughly aroused, as aroused as he. He followed her toward the room that overlooked the port, eager for pleasure, eager for information.
Careful to keep as inconspicuous as possible, Fontaina fairly ran to the rickety stairs taking almost three strides to his one. Easing the key into the lock, shened ned the door, quickly shutting it behind them, and stood for a moment, unsure and on fire. Running her hands along the folds of her worn skirt, she slipped passed him to the window and gently pulled back the dingy curtain, her full breasts heaving as she spied what she knew he wanted. �There she is, sir,� she breathed. �The Reaper.� How could she ever entice him to want her even half as much? She moved aside leaning her back against the wall beside the window, her distinctly feminine form showed off to its greatest advantage.
He moved to the window, peering out into the starlit night finding the ship he sought, finding his ship. The Reaper. All the while, seemingly with a will of its own, his hand moved along her cheek, up into her hair, knotting into the silken curls. "Dawg. Never sir," he instructed. Straightening from his position, he moved against her, lifted her and pinned her against the wall. With her thighs spread, he inhaled a deep breath of her thick scent. "We�ll talk about what more you�re going to do for me..." He pushed his lips against hers in a brief, almost passionless kiss and then gave her lip a healthy bite. "...LATER."
The disappointment she felt at the less than fiery kiss was quickly changed into overwhelming fervor at the pain inflicted by the harsh snap of his teeth. Feeling her lip swell even before his teeth left the flesh, she wound her legs tightly around him, clasping her feet together at the ankles. The warm wetness pooled even more at the apex of her thighs as she began to move her weight erotically in an attempt to press her heated sex closer to his hardness. Her arms tightened around his neck for support and she let her head fall back causing her breasts to thrust forward, their liberal flesh almost hiding his face from her view. God, his rough sprinkling of whiskers scratched her tender flesh in the most marvelous way! �Anything you say � Dawg,� she panted huskily.
With one hand squeezing harshly at her rear, the other worked theingsings of his trousers, releasing his slick tipped shaft. There wasn't even the briefest pause, no softly spoken words, no promises of anything beyond the moment as he shoved his way into her body and parted her flesh just as fiercely as he had a man's with sword in hand. Hips pumping in measured thrusts, his eyes remained hard, locked onto her face.
She had been more than ready for his entrance, but had no way been prepared for his size. Feeling the tip of his thick, long cock pounding against the very back wall of her feminine ramparts, she felt almost as if he meant to force himself through the back of her very body. With each plunge her groans of pain became a bit louder. With each driving thrust her excitement grew. She tried to keep her eyes focused on his almost maniacal gaze as she began to make an attempt to give as much as he gave. Her hands curled into claw-like talons, her long but broken nails digging deep enough into his shoulders to bypass the material of his cotton vest and beak the rough skin underneath. With her eyes, she beckoned more. �Do you mean to hurt me,� she said hoarsely. �To make me beg for mercy?� She leaned forward and kissed him hard, speaking even as her mouth sought his tongue. �You can do twice as much and I�ll never break.� She ruthlessly contracted the muscles around his pounding shaft squeezing as hard as her body allowed. �I�m finding a taste for it, I am.�
He was pleased; pleased as he felt the warm trickle of his own blood down his back. She had dared to tread where no other had before, professing he could do her no harm that would dissuade her from pleasure. As his tongue tangled with her his hand forged between them finding that swollen bud between her lower lips and pinching it roughly. A low rolling laugh broke from his throat. "Tis the taste you sought?"
The superb torture caused a part of her to surface that she had never known existed. With a growl, she allowed the feeling to intensify leaning her mouth to his shoulder and biting hard enough to draw blood while her fingers continued to carve his back and shoulders. �Give me your worst,� she panted, his blood on her lips. �You�ll get as mas yas you dole.� She felt the first spasm of orgasmic frenzy as the pressure of his fingers tightened on her most intimate burgeoning sex bud. She was almost blinded by the intensity.
Giving another hard punishing thrust he lessened the pressure around her thick clit just long enough to allow her to think he was withdrawing the torture. "My worst is yet to come. If you think you can survive it perhaps another time." He growled, as his fingers closed over that senve fve flesh again, pinching far harder. Inside her his throbbing cock jerked and spasmed sending thick heated semen deep into her.
A loud bellow came from deep within her at the sweet torment his digits created, yet she refused to cry � refused to show sorrow or even a trace of regret. Instead, she allowed the orgasm to explode with ferocity. She milked his perfect cock of every last drop until she could no longer feel the liquid heat � and she marveled that he could still seem partially erect but moments afterwards. Falling slack into his arms, she could only find the energy to lher her head and look into his eyes, her own filled with wonder at that revelation. �How?� she breathed, still held against the wall.
"Always take," he replied, his smile mirroring his self-absorbed words. He cared not for another person, whether pain or pleasure. Quickly withdrawing himself from her and dropping her to her feet, he turned and dragged her to the room�s small bed, flinging her onto the top. "When dawn breaks you'll be coming to my ship." It was a command, leaving no room for argument.
Her back made contact with the think mattress almost meeting the hard wooden planks underneath. Her breath taketaken from her for a moment, but she quickly recovered lifting herself onto her elbows to watch him with heated eyes � eyes that flicked from his face to that strangely live member he commanded. Oh, yes. He commanded bodies, his own and hers, as well as she knew he must command his own crew. �I thought women were taboo on a pirate�s ship.� Her tongue flicked lasciviously over her still swollen lip, her skirt�s hem hiked to her waist and legs open wide to him on the bed � her hot and inflamed femininity throbbing but in dire need as she moved her hand to the drenched area and rubbed. �Will your men allow it?� She had to prick him � but more importantly, had to know she wouldn�t be fare game for his men.
"My men allow nothing. It is I that decides what is to be allowed and what is taboo. They survive on my word and die by my word." He growled before quickly pouncing on her willing body, plunging deeply into her seeping sex.
The words were barely discernable to her ears as she arched upward trying desperately to feel that overly full pounding all but bruising her inside. Not wanting to anger him to the point of ending this joyous torture, she set her pace with his pulsation. The only sound heard in the room was the slick, moist melding of flesh as he beat into her and the noise drove her to the brink of insanity.
Dawg knew no matter how many times he took her in the course of the night he was unlikely to slack his lust, he was likely to be left with the gnawing of unquenched desire. The cures of an empty soul? A scourge of the black hearted? He wasn't certain and most times didn't care but sometimes, times like these, questioned if passion sated by a lover wasn�t one of the true treasures to be had.
It came even faster this time than it had before. She had believed her body to be barely capable of passionate climate. Dawg�s power over her mind and body had proven that the past had shown her but a taste of what her body was able to produce. She realized at that second as her body convulsed tightly around his � as it stretched painfully to accommodate his, that anything he asked of her she would do willingly. If only he asked, she would sell her soul to Satan and thank him for the offer. Falling limp under his body, she linked her legs around his hips to keep his fullness within her, eyes begging for more abuse.

* * * * *

Rifling through a pile of port logs, governor Swann huffed pushing his brocade back from his chair. Lifting a hand to his eyes, he rubbed wearily wanting the stack before him to simply disappear. " "Woe but for a genteel soiree." Another sigh slipped his lips and he stood, hands braced upon the desktop starring that the diminished wick of the candle in front of him. "Or a hot midnight tryst with a plump plum from the..." A knock at the study door startled him from his arousing muse.
The barrier opened to allow an aging gentlemanentlentleman to enter. �A Mr. William Shaw to see you, Sir, if it please you.� He stood waiting for further instructions, his countenance that of a statue to be used or discarded at his owner�s leisure.
Swann waved his hand, a silent endorsement to show his guest in. Taking his seat behind the desk again, he steepled his fingers in an attempt to appear quite above the other man.
Wearing a wispy linen shirt, fine satin breeches, stolen of course, a brocade vest and matching coat, William Shaw entered with a flourish, the ends of his sun blonde hair pulled into a fashionable black velvet tie. With a jaunt in his step, he bore the air of one used to higher circles instead of showing himself to be the piratical thief he was. �Ah, my dear sir,� he began extending his hand that of the more elite. �Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.�
"Let us not waltz around this meeting, Mr. Shaw," Swann suddenly announced, his face still holding congenial grace and charm. "To what do I owe this impromptu meeting?"
�Yes,� Shaw replied as he moved gracefully to the elegant chair in front of the desk. �Let us not dawdle. I shall present my case to you in but a single name. Captain Jack Sparrow.� Easing his back to the padded seat, his smile remained stationary, his eyes clapped on the man in front of him.
The name markedly startled the man, having not heard it in some time. The pirate still skirted his good graces in the past, the whole debacle with his daughter, but now his primary objective was to find the man and see the king's justice done. Sitting forward, his eyes widened. "Do continue, sir."
Shaw came practically nose-to-nose with the important man. �I can deliver him to you.� He leaned back comfortably and, with a sniff, plucked at his lacy cuffs. �Providing, of course, you do something for me.�
"And what shall I provide for your doubtless duplicity in the matter?" Swann countered, his smile somewhat strained with the effort not to dislike the pompous peacock in front of him.
�He travels winothnother these days,� the younger man hurried on, anxious to have his way in the matter and damn the consequences. �I want this person amnesty. Free his partner of past crimes, which have naught to do with you, and I shall lead you to your missing bird.� His eyes shone brightly at the concept of having all that he desired. �What say you?�
What say I?" The governor repeated, near speechless at the demand. "Give a name so that I may assess the crimes of the one I am to pardon." He sputtered at the sheer audacity of Shaw.
�Ah, no, no,no,� William said in a sing-song voice. �Were I to give you the name you would have your fine officers scouring the seaside for your prize. Nay, I�ll have your wordore ore I give what you so desperately want.� He would not have this fall apart when he was so close to perfection.
"Then pray tell, what crimes are I to excuse?" He prompted, not willing to give in so quickly. He was not a man to willingly remain in the in the dark with such a bargain.
�Oh, none that have caused inconvenience to you and men.� Shaw brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his blue velvet coat, the silver embroidery glinting in the light. �Thievery here, a ship�ght ght there � the basic piratical antics.� He sighed nonchalantly. �It�s truly a fair trade.�
"Ah. So, you wish to trade a pirate for a pirate?" He tapped his chin thinking the man must think him quite the fool. "Mr. Shaw, did you truly think my mind would be set upon one pirate more than another? Is it not my job to see all such sea riff raff hung? Why should your pirate see freedom�s light and another swing from the gibbet?" The rapid fire of questions nearly had Swann huffing, his face taking on a pinched facade.
�That�s simple,� the young man said fearlessly. �You get Sparrow and half the pirates� wars you now see will cease and desist. You know as well as I that is he and he alone that causes the young to choose the way of piracy � his stories and men being among the most appealing and exciting. Any other would merely wane more and more until he was simply a fantastical story.� He leaned forward with a smile. �The lesser of two evils, so to speak.�
Swann nodded then, not able to mount a credible argument against the young man's reasoning. There was but one other troublesome BUCCANEER that haunted Port Royal and he was quite sure Shaw couldn't be referring to that particular wench. "Decidedly so. " The governor sighed, his face relaxing its pose. "I will engage you in this compact, Shaw. However, if you lead me awry in this it will be you that meets the gallows."
William smiled the smile of victory as he cemented the pact with a handshake. � You won�t regret this, I assure you.� Standing, he brushed a wrinkle from his pants. �I return and when I do, you will have the whereabouts of your nemesis.� He bowed with another flourish. �Until then, mi�lord.� And with a turn, he left, the feeling of triumph flowing through his veins. With Sparrow out of the way, his relationship with Morgan would once again thrive. It mattered not how he rid himself of Jack Sparrow. The important thing was to see him gone forever.
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Sparrow in the Wind