A/N: Happy minutes before the new year everyone! (Well, depending on when you read this.) Here is a nice little piece proving for yet another year that Sparrabeth is vastly superior over Blahabeth, particularly when it comes to undressing. So, my New Year's resolution, you ask? Work on my writing skills, post more often, and get a life that doesn't involve obsessing over a ship. Unlikely.
It's an hour and a half until 2009 for us New Yorkers. Oh boy, I better write quickly! I shall apologize in advance for the shottiness of this and the lack of eloquence. I am so sloppy when I write in haste. I shall edit later after the ball drops.
A Meal and a Show?:
"Breakfast, my liege?"
Jack staggers into her quarters with a natural air of confidence, balancing an oak tray that is layered with food deftly with one hand (a fact that one should marvel over, due to his swaggering) and grasping a cloudy bottle of amber liquid with the other. He closes the door behind him by kicking it shut with his heel and sidles onto the bed next to her, placing the platter between them.
"I assure you, my dear Swann, these are the finest of delicacies this ramshackle town has to offer," he purrs, his sparkling eyes assessing her; Elizabeth sits on the bed with his white muslin shirt on, the sleeves rolling past her hands and hem falling mid-thigh.
Arching an eyebrow, he adds, "Though I see a far more tempting delicacy in front of me that is not of the edible kind."
"Oh, bugger off," she growls teasingly, selecting an orange slice and biting off one half. It is just ripe; sweet and juicy, it greets her tongue warmly – oranges always were her favorite fruit.
Jack grabs an apple, regards it with annoyance, and then replaces it to retrieve a piece of pineapple.
"And how was your sleep?" he inquires through a mouth full of fruit.
Elizabeth smirks, glancing up at him between selecting another orange piece. "Full of interruptions from a very persistent and wicked man."
Jack feigns a look of immaculate surprise. "Oh? To distract one such as your royal self however, he must have been handsome, aye?"
"Oh, aye. Very handsome," she agrees, brushing back a few tresses that had been kissed by the sun.
Jack wriggles in satisfaction.
"But he was rather dull," Elizabeth carries on with a sigh, playing with a seed from a pomegranate and bringing it closely to her face to examine it.
He freezes – dull?
Raising a hand to vehemently protest against this statement, he is interrupted by a question.
"And how was your evening?"
Ah, and retaliation shall be sweet indeed.
Jack uncorks the bottle of rum and takes a quick swig of it, pleased by the way the spicy liquid does away with the stickiness left on his tongue from the few hours of sleep he did gain. Albeit, he acts disinterested, swishing the bottle around when he answers her.
"I've had better."
Elizabeth blinks. "Better?"
He nods, making a slight face of disgust when he explains himself. "Aye, love. You see the woman I was with last night hardly did anything but lie there. Very inexperienced."
Though she is aware that this little bout of banter is hardly factual, she finds herself flushing with provocation anyway.
"Perhaps it was due to her lover's utter sense of dreariness," she parries, eating a few grapes and then pushing the platter from herself; her current state of famine was not the type to be slain by fare.
Jack takes the tray and sets it on the floor beside the bed, scooting a bit closer to Elizabeth when he straightens up once more. "Or maybe she was just, oh, what is it called?" He makes a look of over-exaggerated deep thinking, before brightening. "Oh yes! Inept when it comes to certain acts that take place between a man and woman of the favorable nature."
Elizabeth resolutely shakes her head. "And I say it was the fault of the man."
He smiles at her with apathy and then with stealth and slyness of a leopard, he is looming above her, his hands playing with the end of her (his!) shirt.
"Than it shall be my duty to royalty to make up for the faultiness of that positively ghastly man who knows nothing in the arts of satisfying a woman, predominantly the pirate king." He lifts the material of her clothing a fraction to plant a kiss onto her hipbone.
"As that is the only proper thing to do," Elizabeth agrees, her hands falling to his shoulders.
"Hmm…" Jack raises the shirt bit higher, pressing his russet, coarse lips to flat expanse of her stomach, pleased when he hears a slight hiss leave her lips. He continues upward, dragging his mouth across the curve of her waist, over the ridges of her ribcage, and between her breasts. Once at the base of her neck, he pulls the shirt over her head and begins to attack the flesh there.
Elizabeth's fingers play with the ties of his breeches and she whispers with hitched breath, "Once more would do no harm…"
Her lover smirks against her skin; languidly, his tongue draws itself up to her ear where he plays with the lobe slowly, taking his time so he can relish in all her tremors and gasps. With the tone of voice that makes her desire for him coil even tighter in her stomach, he murmurs on last sentiment.
"And this time, sweet Lizzie, I'm going to make you scream."