Seventh Month
by Luvvycat
Author's Note: This little bit of Sparrabeth fluff was written in honour of the birthdays of my LJ friends Pearlseed (July 15) and Florencia7 (June 25) - two fine and talented PotC writers whose own fanfic I've greatly enjoyed, and who have been two of my biggest "cheerleaders" as a fan writer. This one's for you, ladies, with my fondest and most sincere birthday wishes. ;-)
Tons of thanks, too, to my wonderfully brilliant beta GeekMama, whose valuable input and keen eye for detail always takes what I've written, and makes it that much better! :-)
As usual, PotC belongs to no-one but its creators and to Disney.
Hope everyone enjoys the fic!
Ta!
- Cat
Elizabeth sighed as the breeze through her open window wafted pleasantly cool against her burning flesh. Now well into her seventh month of pregnancy, for the moment consigning herself to veritable dry-dock in Shipwreck Cove (at least until the baby was born, and old enough to safely sail with her), she was finding it increasingly difficult to deal with the changes her "increasing" had wrought upon her body.
Always slender as a reed, and almost sinfully proud of her girlish, willowy figure, she had been transformed over the passing months into some ungainly stranger: graceless, awkward, the merest movement bringing with it a glissando of aches and pains throughout her now-unfamiliar body until she wanted to weep in frustration (the tendency to tears at the least provocation being another disconcerting side-effect of her pregnant state).
The gradual swelling of her belly, obviously, was to be expected as the child within her grew, but the aching puffiness of other body parts, such as breasts, feet and ankles, and the constant hunger that seemed to perpetually gnaw at her (and for increasingly "exotic" foods she'd never found appetising before), had come as an unexpected, and quite unpleasant, surprise … as had the constant waves of heat, generated from within not without, that plagued her at all times of day or night, bathing her in sweat.
Tonight had been unbearable, the heat unendurable, sleep unachievable as she tossed and turned upon too-moist sheets (having long ago flung the blankets to the floor), until, with a strangled cry of vexation, she had risen, waddled to the single window of her Shipwreck aerie, thrown it wide, and opened her robe to the night air, unmindful of who might spy her nakedness, just so long as she achieved some measure of blessed relief.
As her skin at last cooled, so did her turbulent thoughts, and she let them wander as her hands drifted idly over her distended belly. There was a flurry of movement under her palms as the babe within, as restless tonight as its mother, kicked at the walls of its fleshy prison.
"Patience, love," she whispered into the twilight. "Believe me, I'm as eager as you are for your release from confinement. But some things cannot be rushed…"
It had been near three months now since she had allowed Jack to persuade her to lie-in at Shipwreck Cove, and also to let him "borrow" her Empress and its crew to continue his efforts toward locating and recovering his stolen Black Pearl. She had originally intended (above Jack's protests) to stay with her ship (and Jack!) as long as she possibly could, practically up to the moment she gave birth if she could manage it. But after being boarded by a shipload of Spanish pirates of a mind to take the hard-won plunder that the Empress had just rightfully stolen from a fat, low-riding French merchant ship—and a terrifyingly close call with a Spanish cutlass that, had it not been for Jack's quick reflexes and timely intervention, would have gutted her from stem to stern—she reluctantly admitted that it would be much safer (for the baby's sake, if not for her own) to wait out the remainder of her pregnancy at Shipwreck Cove.
A wise decision, she knew, but one that soon had her chafing at her self-imposed bonds, driven to distraction at the relative inactivity and her forced estrangement from the open sea. Day after day, she pined for the roll of tar-stained boards under her boot-heels, the salt wind wreaking mischief in her loose-flowing hair, the luff of a sail overhead making her Empress sound like a living, breathing thing … and the feel of Jack, lying warm beside her, night after night.
Thinking of Jack, her mind drifted back to the day she had told him she was expecting Will's child. Jack had first been stunned, then sullen, then delighted as he grasped the implications, perceived the immediate benefits in terms of their being able to abandon the precautionary measures he'd felt obliged to take during their frequent unions to prevent getting her in the state in which she now found herself—precautions that had been rendered quite unnecessary, thanks to her one day with Will.
She had to admit, though, that she'd found delight as well, the first time she and Jack had engaged in full and unrestrained congress, without fear of the consequences—particularly when she'd felt Jack's completion pulsing deep within her, without him having to retreat from their frenzied engagement just short of achieving victory.
Afterward, wrapped in each other's arms, still drunk from an excess of pleasure, Jack had crooked her a besotted grin and said in breathless awe, "You mean, we could've been doin' it this way all along? Gods, woman! If we'd only known months ago that your hold was already carrying cargo…"
During those following weeks, they'd made love at every opportunity, seemingly intent on making up for lost time. As the baby grew inside her, so it appeared did her desire, and she became like a woman possessed, craving Jack's attentions any time of day or night (which, of course, he was only too happy to provide, with the greatest enthusiasm). At first abashed by her overwhelming need, she soon grew inured to the smirks of Gibbs or Tai Huang as, with only a hurried "The helm's yours!" called over her shoulder, she hastily dragged Jack off for yet another liaison in the Captain's cabin below.
Now, three months had gone by, without recourse for those yearnings. Instead, she had tried to subjugate those pesky desires by immersing herself in learning everything she could about Shipwreck Cove, the Pirate Code, and her role as King of the Brethren Court. Captain Teague proved to be a wealth of information, his knowledge seemingly boundless, vast and far-reaching. Somehow, being with Teague, sharing his company of an evening by the fireside, or sitting with him watching daily life at Shipwreck go by, made her feel closer to Jack.
Jack…
Staring up at the stars just visible above the towering, hulking wrecks that comprised the majority of the town of Shipwreck, she found herself wondering where Jack was at this very moment. Knowing the incorrigible Captain Sparrow, he was probably in Tortuga, enjoying a night (and a bottle of rum) at his favourite table at the Faithful Bride… and possibly the company of some willing and winsome wench, which though it pained her to think upon it, was probably for the best, considering she was absolutely huge now, and about as attractive as a leaky, barnacle-encrusted Man-o-War ("leaking" being yet another unfortunate affliction as the weight of the babe pressed on certain inner parts). She doubted he would find her appealing, or beddable, in her present condition.
Another stray breeze stirred the tendrils of hair at the nape of her neck, and it was a few moments before she realised that the draft had come not from the window before her, but from somewhere behind…
Carrying with it a strangely familiar scent…
Rum… and unwashed pirate.
Could it be? Or was it merely her fevered brain and wishful thinking conspiring to play tricks on her senses?
"Hello, Jack…" she said, smiling, as she felt roughened fingers brush her skin, pull the pins from her hair, then begin combing gently through the loose, dampened strands before gathering and sweeping it to one side. Warm breath, then warmer lips touched the back of her neck.
"How'd you know t'was me?" Jack harrumphed, clearly disappointed that he'd failed to surprise her.
"Let's just say a certain… something in the air precedes you…"
"Ah!" he said, and she could hear the smirk in his voice. "Like a strength of presence, the force of me personality…"
Her smile widened. "Yes. Something like that…"
Arms slipped around her from behind. "Did you miss me, luv?"
She closed her eyes, leaning back against his strong chest. "Of course," she said, simply, the words coming nowhere near conveying to what vast extent she had missed him, and the profundity of her joy at his return.
His wandering hands had discovered the gap in her robe, and was making free of the bounty he'd found there, first briefly skimming over the swell of her abdomen, tracing circular patterns on the bulging proof of Will's non-eunuch status, and his much-maligned potency, before moving northward to infinitely more interesting territory…
"'Strewth, Lizzie!" he exclaimed. "Seems your belly's not the only thing that's gotten larger since we parted!" His hands explored the anatomy under discussion, cupped palms gauging size and weight, callused thumbs brushing over coral-capped peaks. "As some unknown poet once said, 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder' — apparently, it makes other parts in that noble organ's vicinity grow as well!"
She shot him a fondly exasperated glance over one shoulder. "Leave it to you to not miss that particular little detail!" she said, tartly.
"I've often said that rum's as mother's milk to me. These almost make me want to sample the real thing—directly from the source..."
She laughed. "That would be the day… when you choose milk, of any kind, over rum! Besides, I have it on good authority that the milk won't actually come until after the baby is born."
Jack pouted. "Pity."
"In any case, I'm afraid that this supply is already spoken for," she added, "so if you truly want to satisfy your curiosity, and your thirst, in that regard, I recommend you find yourself awet-nurse…"
He spun her around, pulled her closer until they were pressed belly-to-belly, nose-to-nose. "Perhaps I should just find other activities to keep me mouth occupied…"
And he kissed her, long and deeply, tenderly and completely, lips and teeth and tongue communicating to her quite eloquently all the things he had failed to put into actual words. Heart soaring, pulse pounding, toes curling, she welcomed him inside for even deeper explorations.
Something within her fluttered, and Jack suddenly broke the kiss, his eyes searching hers widely. "What was that?"
She smiled and, taking his hand, placed it between them, against the swell of her belly. "It's merely the baby, making his presence known. He's been very active tonight…"
"He?" Jack queried, quirking an eyebrow. "How d'you know it's a 'he'?"
"Call it woman's intuition," Elizabeth replied, then grinned as she watched Jack's eyes go even wider as the baby moved again.
"Might be a girl," Jack posited. "I swear she's got your kick! Lord knows, all these months sharin' your bed, I've felt the impact of your foot often enough!"
"And you might again," she said, winding her arms around his neck, "…if you don't kiss me again, right now!"
"Your wish is my command," he grinned, "Your not-so-serene Highness…"
Somewhere between the beginning of the kiss, and its end, Jack managed to divest her of the robe, and shed his own coat, waistcoat, and shirt. Swinging her up into the cradle of his arms, he carried her to the bed…
For a long time, they lay together, sharing kisses and touches, gently exploring, reacquainting themselves with one another's bodies, until, putting his clever fingers and mouth to best possible use, Jack finally gave Elizabeth the release, and relief, she'd been craving for the past three months.
After, they lay curled around each other, limbs still entangled, her head resting against his chest, listening to his heart pounding in time with her own. When her spinning head and throbbing body had at last calmed somewhat, she said, softly, "I can't tell you how much I've missed you, Jack … missed this."
"You don't have to, luv," he said, his hands moving over her, possessively. "I've missed this, too…"
"Have you?" She smiled briefly, as her fingers idly plucked at the dark hairs below his navel.
"Of course," he murmured, echoing her earlier, understated response.
"Jack…?"
"Hmmm?"
"You know that anonymous poet you quoted?"
"Aye?"
"I believe what he actually wrote was: 'Absence makes the heart grow fonder… of somebody else!'" She looked up into his face, her eyes meeting his, searching their dark depths. "Tell me truly, Jack. Has there been somebody else, since we parted? Somebody you've turned to, when the need is upon you… and before you answer, let me say that I know who, and what, you are. I know women look upon you with desire in their eyes and lust in their hearts. I also know you're a man who loves his pleasures, and is accustomed to having those special needs met. And, believe me, I wouldn't blame you, had you sought those kinds of comforts from someone else. Someone thinner, and prettier, and not big as a bloody house…"
"Do you want the God's honest truth, Lizzie, or sweet, pretty little lies…?"
"I'd settle for pretty little truths…" she said, with a weak smile.
He sighed. "If there had been someone else—and, mind you, I'm not sayin' there was, though I do allow that there are times a man too long at sea is driven near-mad for the touch of a hand other than his own—it would have been nobody of consequence."
"I see," she said, tersely. There was a stinging at the back of her eyes which usually presaged tears, but she fought against the urge to weep. It wasn't as if she'd expected instant monogamy from Jack. They weren't married, after all … in fact, she already had a husband—absent, and supremely understanding as he was in regard to her and Jack—and considering all the years he'd been accustomed to being free with his favours with women, it was hardly reasonable to think Jack would suddenly, after all that time, abandon old habits. If the past seven months of being his lover had taught her anything, it was that Captain Jack Sparrow was a man of deep passions, with a strong need to express them, physically. In truth, it was one of the things that had attracted her to Jack in the first place: not only his masculine beauty (which was considerable), but that aura of sexuality that bespoke a man of broad experience, well-versed in how to satisfy a woman. In that regard, Jack and Will couldn't have been more different. Beauty Will might have, in abundance, but as far as women were concerned, he had "died", and gone to their marriage bed, a virgin.
Studying her face, reading her look, Jack continued. "But you need to know what I discovered, in these months we've been apart. Something important…"
"And what is that?"
He shifted, so that they were lying side-by-side, one muscled and tattooed arm under her neck, while with his free hand he caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers, his expression as serious as she'd ever seen it. "There's no-one I can be with whose face doesn't become yours in the dark. No-one whose whispers and sighs aren't spoken in your voice, whose touch, whose kiss doesn't fill me with longing for yours all the more." He brought his face closer to hers, so that she felt the stirring of his breath against her lips as he finished, "No-one who didn't make me want to return to your arms with all due haste, climb into your bed and never leave it."
She smiled and sniffled, that disconcerting urge to cry coming over her again. "Even though I'm big as a house, and heavy with another man's child?"
"Big as a house you may be, luv … but, truth to tell—besides my Pearl, you're the only house and home I want to come back to." His arm tightened as he pulled her up and against him for another long, lingering kiss, and she clung to him with shaking fingers.
When at last he drew away, he laughed, deep and low, and with some measure of chagrin. "Let's face it, Lizzie. You've spoiled me for any other woman. In fact, I've found I've quite lost me appetite, for anyone but you…"
"Then lucky for you, you arrived when you did," she whispered, as her fingertips grazed his bare chest, on its way to points below. "Because, I don't know about you …" She let her mouth stretch into a slow, predatory grin as she rose on her elbow, and leaned over him, "…but I'm starving…"