Author's note: Drabble written as a personal challenge just after PotC1 came out. My prompt was just as the title says: "scent". I wanted to explore how Elizabeth and Will would perceive each other sensually.
Worked out? Didn't? Let me know ;)
SCENT
Salt tickles her lips, her tongue even, as she tastes the coppery stretch of skin offered to her between the open lapels of his shirt. Sea winds and sweat have made her accustomed to the tangy scents, but Elizabeth grows ever fond of Will Turner's own unique odours; that of smoke, sea, heat, perspiration, and steel.
Will's skin quivers underneath her featherlight ministrations. His eyes are closed, tired from a long day at the smithy. He is not immune to her touch, though, and a single eye cracks open to reveal a tender yet fierce expression as he regards her amorously and with a certain shyness that she believes will never leave him. He is a bold man once given the right incentive, and this demonstration of her love usually does not make him blush, but at this moment he is contemplating her with pure wonder swimming in his murky eyes. They are seeing the steel in her that brought her to him, a richness he gained not only in his bed, but in his life as well. She is his sail, driving him to soft, clear waters when she is tender, and rough, stormy seas when she is rash.
Tonight Elizabeth is soft, pliable, her curves a solace to bury his soreness in, her thighs a smooth haven to roam and discover. She parts her lips, plants an open-mouthed kiss to his shoulder, and then sighs as Will suddenly, and irrevocably, rumbles to life and rolls her beneath a wave of possession. He smells like storms tonight.