Disclaimer: If I owned this franchise, Captain Jack Sparrow and Elizabeth Swann would've hooked up long before, and Will and Elizabeth wouldn't have been forced together in the last movie as they were.
Summary: He kisses her roughly, fiercely, passionately. Maybe he is a hero. But no, he is just a pirate.
Alas
Maybe a hero is not just a person with one measly flaw, rather one with many flaws. Maybe a hero is not a person with many strengths and no weaknesses, but with many weaknesses and barely any strengths. Maybe a hero is not someone who is perfect, but rather imperfect. Maybe a hero is not just a fictional creature that you hear of in poems and books, rather one like you and me, or rather him. Maybe a hero is not always the good one, rather the one that can be bad. Maybe a hero is the one that can make it through everyday life and through many hardships, and not just one, and yet still manage to survive, even if it is just barely. Maybe the hero is mad with many odd dreams and ideas.
Maybe he is the hero.
But no, he is just a pirate.
Maybe the hero is the good guy. The one who always follows the law and never does anything outrageous or anything that isn't carefully thought out. Maybe the hero is not the one without a future of brightness and color. Maybe the hero is not the one with the ever optimistic attitude, the supposedly selfish one who would almost gave up his life for the spoiled governor's daughter. They say, of course, that you cannot be the best at everything. But he seems to be, even at the times that no one thinks he will be.
Maybe he is the hero.
But no, he is just a pirate.
He kisses her roughly, fiercely, passionately. He kisses her despite her protests and pushes her flush against the wall when she moans into his mouth. He presses himself into her body and she groans at the pressure. Their tongues tangle in a duel, one which he claims victory, but not without difficulty. Her fingers pull on his dreadlocks, trying to pull him closer to her. Her thoughts of her absent husband were long forgotten due to his overwhelming presence. He kisses her with an experience that she does not want to know where he got it from.
Maybe he is the hero.
But no, he is just a pirate.
He pulls away from her, but only to regain his breath. She collapses against the wall with weak knees, grateful to have him there to hold her up. He claims her lips again, but this time in more of a slow kiss that is savoring her taste and the feel of her delicate and soft lips against his wind-chapped ones. Her skin is soft against his work-calloused fingers as he skims the piece of revealed skin in between her blouse and breeches. She shivers under his soft touch and he smiles against her lips.
Maybe he is the hero.
But no, he is just a pirate.
She pulls his shirt from where it was tucked within his breeches, carefully touching the muscled skin underneath. As she runs her hands up his torso, circling his dark nipples with her fingers, he moans into her mouth. It was her who broke the second kiss, a new sense of confidence within her. She had made the infamous Jack Sparrow moan. A smirk lit her lips that he was unsure of whether to be frightened of or not. She removes her hands from under his shirt and carefully undoes his bandana. He looks at her with questions in his eyes as he gasps for air. She carefully puts it around her head before unbuttoning the top buttons on her blouse, just enough to show a bit of cleavage. He reclaims her lips quickly before taking on her task.
Maybe he is the hero.
But no, he is just a pirate.
He gently caresses her jaw before kissing the path in which his thumb had just travelled. She shivers again, and again, he smirks before nibbling on her earlobe, extracting a gasp from the woman. He licks a path that seems to light her skin on fire. In the crease of her neck, the point where her necks meets her shoulders, he bites down gently, leaving his mark on the skin for the world to see. They should, after all, know that she is untouchable.
Maybe he is the hero.
But no, he is just a pirate.
Her back arches, pushing her body further into him, as she cries, "Jack." A unique feeling fills him that he was sure he had never felt before. Still, he knows what it is. Still, it reminds unnamed. If he had identified it with a name, then it would be all too true, too real, because Captain Jack Sparrow was not in love with Elizabeth Swann. Damn it. He curses himself, but her body is against his and her sun-kissed skin is so close to his lips, and he's thankful that he cannot think of a truly logical thought.
Maybe he is the hero.
But no, he is just a pirate.
He tosses her blouse down to the ground, and quickly rids her body of the pesky fabrics between him and those full breasts of hers. He kisses, licks, and nibbles them as she digs her nails into his back. He takes a nipple into his mouth and she cries out. He captures her lips again and grinds himself against her body, extracting another moan from deep within her body. She sloppily struggles to remove him of his clothing, and after she fails, he steps back from her taking his shirts off quickly before slipping from his breeches and his under wear. She gawks at him momentarily, and he grins with no embarrassment or nervousness.
Maybe he is the hero.
But no, he is just a pirate.
He sits on her the ship's edge. His dark eyes stare deeply into hers. She runs her hands down his tanned, muscled chest, kissing him deeply in the moonlight. He does not ask her if she was sure. There is no need. He sees her response to the question that wasn't spoken in her eyes. And to ask it, it would be a waste of breathe. He twirls a blonde lock around his trigger finger. He regrets his previous hurry. He should have savored her taste and submitted it into memory, instead of devouring her. Once the deed was done, there would only be the memory of what was. It was always the whelp and never him.
Maybe he is the hero.
But no, he is just a pirate.
It stuns him a moment, the thought that she is a virgin. Although shaky, her touches were precise and surprisingly skillful and not nervous or awkward. She runs her fingers gently down his length and he unwillingly lets out a moan, grasping her waist tighter in his hands. His head falls to her shoulder, his eyes closed. He had been touched like that before, so he did not understand his reaction. But as an afterthought, he never was touched by Elizabeth like that. He feels her triumph and smirk.
Maybe he is the hero.
But no, he is just a pirate.
"I am not sorry for anything." She murmurs to him. He smiles, kissing her again, more gently than ever before. She closes her eyes, preparing for the pain that she heard was to come. He enters her slowly, kissing her and murmuring reassuring words as he does so. She wonders, briefly, if he is this gentle with every one of his lovers, but she reconsiders. No, he could not be. Her eyes squeeze shut as the pain hits her, and a single tear leaks from her eyes that she quickly feels him kiss away, but, as quickly as the pain began, it ended.
Maybe he is the hero.
But no, he is just a pirate.
It is then that the pleasure begins as he slowly and unsurely begins to move within her. She doesn't think about how she is unclean in the minds of the society that she was born into, that she was tainted; instead she thinks of how it was him that took away her virginity and that it was him who had taken her heart. And it was him who would never know the latter. Soon, his name is all she could speak as they find their rhythm.
Maybe he is the hero.
But no, he is just a pirate.
He does not think of how his crew could stumble upon them at any moment. He does not think that she will marry another as soon as the disarray that is dissolves. He does not think that it is her who will break his heart and most likely betray him as the first chance arises. He does not think of how she once killed him and sentenced him to his own personal hell. But he does think of how much he cares for her. And he constantly struggles not to tell her as she repeats his name in his ear.
Maybe he is the hero.
But no, he is just a pirate.
He thrusts into her time and time again and suddenly, she stops, her body stilling before quivering with release. She shudders, leaning her body weight into him, and she buries her head in the crease of his neck, crying his name loudly. Her muscles are still trembling when he thrusts into her a final time. He feels himself quake with his own release as he murmurs, "Elizabeth."
Maybe he is the hero.
But no, he is just a pirate.
Then, all he hears are their heavy breaths and pounding hearts. Her head continues to lie within the crease of his neck as she pants. He cradles her body against his gently, caressing her soft blonde hair. She moves away from him, but her hands are still on his shoulders and her nails are still in his skin. He leans forward and kisses her forehead, then her cheeks, then her nose, and finally, he kisses her lips. Once she has regained her balance, he places her feet on the ground once again.
Maybe he is the hero.
But no, he is just a pirate.
"Lizbeth Swann," he murmurs to her.
"Jack Sparrow."
"It's Captain."
"It's Miss Swann."
"Come back… when the whelp cannot fill your needs."
"Hold your breath… until that happens."
They both smile.
Maybe he is the hero.
But no, he is just a pirate.
He is the first to leave, gathering his clothes and putting them on. He walks away from her, fighting the urge to look back. He doesn't though. At least, until he gets to his cabin and realizing that she still wears his bandana. Although he wants to leave it with her as a memento, he doesn't because he really is a selfish person and really does love that worn bandana. When he returns to the deck, she has put on her clothes, but she leans again the ship's railing, staring at the bandana. His boots on the wood causes her to look up, and wordlessly, she hands it to him. He returns to his cabin with thoughts of what had happened and what never will again fresh in his mind. His bandana now smells of her. He never falls asleep, instead holds it, smelling her on it for the rest of the night. And for once, he doesn't drink rum to rid him of his sorrows. Because, maybe, he did deserve the pain.
Maybe he is a hero.
But alas, he is just a pirate.
And maybe that's the best.
Because she did not think that a hero would fall hopelessly in love with her.