Summary: No words are spoken.
Always:
No words are spoken. None are necessary. They will speak later, much later, after they're spent and been spent. So their lips meet instantly after he enters their house and he pushes her to the closest wall. While their tongues duel in a fierce battle that he can never seem to get enough of, she kicks the door closed and wraps her hands around his neck pulling him closer. He senses that something is different, but her lips are glued to his and her body is pressed against him after his too long absence, and so he ignores the feeling. As the kiss finally comes to an end, as their oxygen supply has finally run out, they break apart, heaving for breath, but her eyes never open. They stay shut.
His lips travel to her neck immediately after he had regained his breath. He kissed and licked and nibbled at the spots that made her moan and all of the space in between. A breathy moan erupted from her lips, which caused him to respond with a throaty moan of his own. Her hands knotted in his hair, but as her fingers ran through the short strands, it was as if she expected the hair to be longer. His hands moved to rest on the spots of the wall beside her head for leverage before he greedily reclaimed her mouth.
Their tongues dueled, and like always, she won. Her hands fumbled with the buttons of his shirt as her tongue explored his mouth. Quickly she undid the white shirt and tossed it away from them without breaking the kiss. Although he soon did, but only to gasp for air and remove his undershirts. He nibbled on her earlobe causing her to groan, "Oh, God." He smiled against her neck, and quickly moved on to his next task: ridding her of her shirt and the other pesky fabrics between her skin and him.
He tossed them away too, to gather in the pile with his clothing. He pressed himself up against her, grinding against her body. Another moan left her system. He felt himself twitch in excitement and readiness. Oh, how he was ready. He pulled her from the wall and down the narrow hall to their bedroom where he kissed her before pushing her onto the bed. He rid himself of the rest of his clothes before joining her on the bed. Once there, he kissed a trail to her breasts, stopping momentarily to take a nipple in his mouth. He swirled his tongue around the pert nipple, and she moaned again, arching her back.
"Elizabeth," he felt himself murmur into her skin. He had waited for this day to come for so long. He had waited for the feel of her lips upon his and the feel of her bare skin against his rough, calloused palms for so long. He could not recall wanting something so much in his entire life, but he did not know why he was surprised by this. After all, he had wanted her to be his since the first time that he had laid eyes on her all those years ago. Alas, she would never be his. She would belong to no one, and she made sure of that when she escaped the uptight society that she had been born and raised in for the low, albeit free, life of a pirate.
And this was the closest to her being his that he'd ever get. And that was all right. He would be fine with that. He could manage with that. He kissed her again, more slow this time than any before. He savored the feeling, the taste. She tasted sweet, but also bitter, like rum. The tastes were combined to perfection. He put it into memory to recall for the too many long nights without her. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, breathing in her scent. But obviously, he was being too slow because when they kissed again, she sped the kiss up.
Her hands once again tangled in the strands of his hair, and once again, she seemed surprised with the length and feel of them, but she spoke nothing of it and after all, years change things. But he hadn't a difference in his hair, although he had never really looked. But nonetheless, she was all over him and that was all he could really and truly concentrate on. He trailed kisses down her body to her stomach, where he kissed and licked delicately.
She pushed his head down further, as she tore at his bandana. She shivered under him as he reached the edge of her breeches. He carefully unbuttoned them, pulling them down her legs carefully before slipping them off her feet and tossing them to the floor. He rubbed her foot before placing a single kiss to it. He slowly moved up her body, gently lowering her undergarments and tossing them away. She spread her legs and he moved up her body, kissing her softly as he settled himself between her opened legs. As he entered her, she moaned a husky, "Jack."
He tensed immediately, and she froze beneath him, slowly realizing her mistake. He pulled himself out of her and quickly got off of the bed. Once standing, he searched for his clothes, pulling them on quickly and sloppily. His body felt numb, and his movements were slow and careless. He felt, for the first time, what he truly was: heartless. He could barely bring himself to look at her, but he could not bring himself to look away, and so he watched as her eyes popped open, staring at him with an open mouth and apologetic expression.
"Will," she breathed, her eyes filling with tears. He didn't understand why, nor did he truly care to. He just stared at her, eyes full of betrayal. "I-I," she stuttered stumbling towards him with open arms. But she stopped, standing a foot away from him, completely naked and careless of that fact. At first, he thought that she was going to say a worthless apology, but she didn't. Then, he assumed that she was going to mumble that she could explain, but she could never really explain. But she never really had to. He was her best friend. He had been in love with her since he had first seen her. And when they were young, she used to love him. But not completely love him.
Because there had always been Captain Jack Sparrow.
And there always will be.
After all, nothing or no one seemed to be able to kill that damned man.