A/N: My last short one-shot before I am forced to attend the torturous building we have deemed as a 'school'. It wasn't meant to be long; it's just a drabble I decided to lengthen a bit. Read and Review?
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Reliability:
It is almost two bells past midnight when he finally decides to abandon his position at the helm to another able-bodied corsair and resign for the night. His movements are languid and heavy with lethargy, the day having physically worn him down to almost nothing, however his mind feels slightly more fresh and alert. It is his conscience that drives him to drag himself down to the main deck and into the murky shadows of his own cabin, the darkness enveloping around him like black wings when he closes the doors.
His crystal orbs scan his surroundings briefly - long beams of moonlight penetrate through the wide panes of glass that line the end of his quarters, the luminescent, white light creating slightly eerie shadows amongst his belongings.
His bearings are familiar; he strides towards the center of the room, cutting through the blackness, absently dragging his ringed digit on the cool span of his desk. Continuing, he slides into the pale light, almost up against the windows when he feels it: her cool fingers stroking his hand, tangling themselves amongst his fingers.
His body becomes a block of stone as her torso leans into his back, her chin sitting on his shoulder, her breath a breeze across his cheek; she takes their joined hands and wraps them around his waist so they're resting on his stomach. Her left hand moves to rest atop of them.
"I've missed you," she murmurs honestly into his ear, her familiar voice placating his body in an instant. "One would think you were shackled to the helm."
A grin flickers upon his features at her choice of words, a peculiar sense of pride and contentment hazing over his previous musing thoughts.
He attempts to re-satisfy her with a few words. "M'sorry love - captainly duties and all that."
She exhales slowly into his hair, her arms tightening possessively about him for a moment and then slackening once more.
"And what of your duties to me?" she inquires, curiosity and demand audible in her voice.
He contemplates the question for a moment. "What duties?" She can detect that he is teasing her, goading her with questions he appears to be oblivious too.
"Well... your responsibilities to our very close and entirely innocent friendship..." They both grin. "Your obligation as my partner for crimes we may or may not be liable for..." She now leans closer to his ear, her lips brushing against his earlobe as she speaks once more, her voice a flirtatious whisper. "And your incredibly torturous, dreadful, and just plain unbearable task of being my lover."
His voice feigns horror. "Lord love, have I been that neglectful to my beautiful bonnie lass?"
"Indeed you have," she says gravely.
With some reluctance, he pulls his hands from hers and moves from her embrace, only to turn so he is face to face with her. A beam of moonlight cuts across her features, making it appear as if her very skin were glowing itself. When his eyes asses her body quickly he takes note that she is clad in only large white shirt that falls mid-thigh, exposing the creamy skin of her legs.
"Allow me to make amends for my truly callous, neglectful behavior then, my dear Swann." His smirk is bright even with his back turned to the windows.
Moving the small distance closer to her, he tilts his head down slightly (he likes having her almost the same height as himself) and alleviates any worries or woes from that day by gently applying the pressure of his lips to hers. For a moment, it is almost like the kiss of two hesitant lovers; but then his hands reach up to cradle her face tenderly, despite the roughened and weathered feeling of his palms.
Her hand finds his neck and curves around it and she places the other against his chest where she can feel his heart beating against his chest. They move slowly and lovingly, instead of with the eagerness and passion of new lovers, something that has taken them past three years to perfect.
She suddenly withdraws her head a few millimeters away from him, her eyes opening to search his face for something. Her look suddenly becomes indignant and tense, though breath-taking as usual. "Damn it, Jack!" she hisses. "This is your bloody ship. Tell me that you're going to arrange more free time for yourself... please." Her tone begins hard and demanding but slowly fizzles out to a soft plea, full of ache and desperation.
"The best answer I can give you is I'll try love," he answers, his face grimacing slightly. "You know we're lacking as large of a crew as I'd like."
It sounds almost like an angry cry when she leans in again to kiss him. His hands stroke her cheeks, her forehead, her jawbone, in attempts to distract and soothe her all at the same time.
This seems to be an occurrence that happens every few weeks; they've had this conversation multiple times, following the same series of events, but thus far they have not made much progress with the captain's time away from the only woman he ever dared to love. It pains him to know how much she loathes it, but they are both aware that they cannot likely change things.
His palm brushes the stray strands of hair away from her face, running through her tresses to the back of her neck; his lips come down harder on hers and his arm falls to wrap about her waist, pulling her body closer to his.
She reacts immediately, pushing herself further into his embrace, her hands raking up his chest and around his neck so forcefully that he steps backwards, his back striking the glass behind him and causing a grunt to leave his throat.
"I'm not sorry," she mutters between his lips.
Her lips taste of salt and fine wine, though they are far more intoxicating then the literal drink itself, creating an abstract form of heaven for his sinful tongue. She kisses him harder, invading the moist cavern between his lips with her tongue, finding reassurance at the familiar feeling and taste of his mouth.
He kisses her until his lungs are screaming for oxygen and then he pulls away reluctantly, keeping his protective hold around her firm.
"You should be asleep, love," he murmurs, his eyelids to heavy to lift open. "You're shift starts in two hours."
Her breath caresses his skin when she quietly replies, "I don't care."
A smirk alights onto his lips. "You shall be punished most severely if I awake to find you sleeping in the crows nest tomorrow morning, my liege. Do you really wish for such a thing to happen?"
"Loath as I am to inform you of the besetting thing that is the truth, your punishments tend to often result with the two of us unclad and lying upon your bunk, my dear captain." Her voice is quiet and amused - he nearly feels the smile radiating off of her.
Forcing his eyelids up, he grins at her.
However, she frowns back.
Pulling an arm from behind his neck, she runs a thumb lightly beneath his eyes. "You're tired, Jack."
He opens his mouth to vehemently deny this fact, but she leans from his grip and takes his hand, tugging him past a red curtain to where their bed resides. Carefully, she begins undressing him; first his hat and coat, which she carefully places on a chair beside the bunk, and then his effects. He watches her as she does this, knowing that she will not permit him to take anything off on his own accord.
Finally, she makes him sit on the edge of the mattress and removes his boots, setting them aside where they would be easily accessible if needed. She gives a soft smile, turning to move to her own side of the bed, when he stands and his hand grabs hers, tugging her back.
They kiss once more and as it was when their lips first met that night; tender and unhurried. His hands slowly pull her shirt over her head, chasing away the idea she had of merely going to sleep and she lifts her arms to help him. Her white shirt flutters to the floor as light as silk and her hands pull at his waistband until his breeches are a puddle at his feet.
His palms glide down her sides, over her ribs and to the small of her back where they begin a journey up the wide expanse of her back. She grabs the upper halves of his arms and draws him towards the mattress, lying him down before resting atop of him, their kiss still loving and filled with reverence.
It is one of the rare nights when they lie together undressed that they do not commit the literal, physical act of love; instead, they spend their time exploring the other, their hands journeying down and across the others bodies lovingly. His skin melting against hers and his lips beneath her mouth is all she wants from him; just enough to satiate the more emotional then physical need she feels for him.
He is more then willing to just lie there with her, taking the time to remind himself over and over again how damn lucky he is to have such a beautiful (in every sense of the word) woman in his arms. Once being the envious watcher from afar who wished for her in ever way possible, he was now the man who is looked upon with jealousy and odium.
As terrifying and life-changing as it is to realize, he knows he would never give her up, not even for all the rum in the world.
With her presence aboard his vessel, she brings confidence, pride, and above all, a sense of comfort for the pirate captain when it is those rare times that he needs it. There is nothing he hates more then the feelings of dependency he has for her, but he also relishes in knowing that whatever chaos or problems the day throws at him, that she shall always remain faithfully by his side, even through their own hardships.
He is willing to loose all the arguments they have if it means keeping her by is side.
Though that isn't to say he has never obstinately refused to loose an argument.
He leaves soft kisses across her skin, an act that is as comforting as any Spanish lullaby, relaxing her entire body until she just lies there peacefully in his arms, a small smile tugging at her lips. When he is positive that she is just about ready to drift to sleep, he lies down onto the soft blankets, moving so his body is curved to hers.
This elicits a content sigh from her, her hand groping his arm until she reaches his hand. Leisurely, she brings his palm to her face and presses it against her cheek.
"Go to sleep, Elizabeth," he tells her, making vain attempts to sound stern by using her full name.
"Aye," she mumbles, already falling into the realms of dreams.
Though he is as tired as she is, he chooses to stay up for the next hour, too captivated by her appearence to join her in her slumber. Despite her hot temper and fiery actions on the deck when they are attacking an adversary or pillaging a merchant ship, she looks so vulnerable and yielding when asleep that it makes a uncharacteristic smile touch his lips.
He murmurs three simple words into her hair and shifts slightly to get more comfortable, sighing.
There is nothing in the world that would take him from his Pirate King.