A/N: SEX!! And nothing else, besides a lot of euphemistic terms I appropriated from bad romance novels. There, you've been warned. I swear the next chapter has a small amount of plot and/or explanation.
Chapter Four: Of Fantasies Lived and More Rum
"Go on then," he said, bitterly, after a moment. "Have a good laugh at old Jack. Everyone else does."
"I'll only laugh if you do something incredibly stupid right now," said Elizabeth, still smiling.
"Like what?"
"Like not kiss me."
"Like not…what?"
She sighed theatrically. "Must I do everything myself?"
She leaned toward him, stopping an inch from his face. Her tiger's eyes held his chocolate ones. "Well?" she breathed.
I'm dreaming, he though. His hands moved of their own accord to cup her face, tangle in her hair. Dreaming! yelled a voice in his head.
Well, only one way to make sure, he thought, and closed the miniscule gap between them.
No, not dreaming after all.
She leaned against him with a little sigh, a relaxing of muscles she didn't even know were tense. Her lips tasted of all things holy, bread and salt and wine. He swept his tongue along their parting, asking permission. Her tongue charged out to meet his, grappled and won. It should be impossible, observed the voice, for a woman to ravish like that. But his Lizzie was no ordinary woman. Her hands skimmed up his back to thread in his dreadlocks and flutter like birds on his neck. Jack must have made a noise, because she smiled and she laughed softly against his lips. Her mouth withdrew and she sat back.
"Jesus," he said hoarsely. "Where did you learn to kiss like that?"
She flashed a wicked grin.
"You wouldn't believe me if I told you," she said, moving forward to straddle his legs. She wrapped her hands around his head, pulling him closer. Her mouth hovered just above his own. "Can you do better?" she whispered.
"Oh," he said, his eyes hooded with amusement. "Is that a challenge?"
She opened her mouth to answer, but he gave her no time to respond. His mouth closed over hers, no longer asking for entry but taking what he wanted. She moaned, her hips starting to move against his growing arousal. One hand wrapped around the back of her neck and the other around her waist, and he pulled her down on her back, throwing one leg over her to keep her in place. He drank from her mouth like it was the finest wine, his hand tugging at her shirt until it came free from her breeches. His mouth moved from hers to her neck and collarbone, his hand sliding up her shirt to skim her breasts. She gasped his name. He tweaked a nipple and she arched against him.
"Please," she panted. He moved downward, tugging at her buttons until her shirt lay open, her small breasts exposed. He looked at her, flushed pink from arousal. She looked back at him, anxiously, starting to say something, but he cut her off with another kiss.
"You are so beautiful," he said, his hands skimming her sides. "So, so beautiful."
He bent his head to take one pink nipple in his mouth, then the other, swirling his tongue around and nipping her gently. She bucked toward him and moaned as one of his hands skimmed the waistband of her breeches.
"Oh God, Jack, please."
He kissed his way down her body, more drunk off the sound of his name on her lips than all the wine in the world. He reached her breeches and tugged them off, kissing the inside of one thigh, then the other. Her skin was so soft, he thought as he worked his way upwards, it was like kissing the wings of butterflies. He reached the damp and secret place between her thighs, and flicked his tongue over her. She arched toward him, cried out his name, her hands gripping his head. He continued his ministrations as Elizabeth gasped and writhed beneath him. She could feel the tension mounting. She knew her moans were getting louder, but she was too far gone to care. Jack ginned to himself as her cries reached fever pitch and she suddenly bucked beneath him, her climax wracking her body. He went gentler now, slowing down as she finally shuddered and lay still, panting. He made his way back up her body, kissing here and there to soothe and comfort.
"Now tell me, love," he said taking her in his arms, "did the whelp ever do that for you?" His grin was smug, triumphant. Elizabeth wriggled closer to him, planting a kiss on his collarbone.
"Yes, actually," she said. "Although not as successfully, I might add."
"Hmph," said Jack as she kissed him. She laughed and pushed him down on his back, straddling his waist.
"You know," he said, as she trailed little kissing nips down his open shirtfront, "I don't think much of your choice of previous partners."
She snorted, tugging at his buttons. "Oh, yes, and you have the right to talk. Your women, Captain Sparrow, are usually a dime a dozen. Literally. Now shut up and help me get your pants off."
Jack complied. How could a man say no to an order like that? His clothes soon joined Elizabeth's in a rumpled pile a few feet away. She stood up and stepped back a bit, surveying her prize. He was lean and muscular, his skin tanned a uniform golden brown that could only come from swimming naked as often as possible. His numerous scars and tattoos only added to his appeal, tangible proof of the danger hinted at in his dark eyes and golden smile. And while he lacked an inch or two of Will's height, he more than made up for it in other places. He was, all in all, the most beautiful man she'd ever seen. And the lazy smile that stole cat-like across his face informed her that he knew it, too.
"Like what you see, love?" he purred. She nodded.
"Don't move," she commanded, and turned away towards the fire. He watched the light dance on her slim body. By God, she had a lovely arse. He grinned and licked his lips, the taste of her still lingering there. She grabbed his pack and dumped it out on the sand, sorting through various foodstuffs and bottles.
"What're you doing?" he called.
"Looking for the—ah there it is." She pounced on a bottle and trotted back towards him. She stopped and stood over him, hip cocked, bottle in hand. He eyed it apprehensively.
"I though we agreed you'd had enough rum."
"Be quiet," she said. "I've wanted to do this since that night on the island." She took the cork in her teeth and pulled it out, straddling him.
"Open your mouth and shut your eyes," she ordered. Jack raised an eyebrow, but obeyed. Elizabeth poured a generous measure of rum into her mouth, then bent down and kissed him. The sweet rum flowed into Jack's mouth, assaulting his senses, accompanied by the sweeter taste of her. Her mouth withdrew and the bottle appeared at his lips.
"Drink," she whispered, and kissed him again when the bottle left.
"Keep your eyes closed," she murmured, kissing his neck. He did, not wanting to disturb the magic of her mouth on his skin. Elizabeth snuck a glance at his face and grinned. She tipped the bottle slowly and a small stream flowed into the hollow of Jack's collarbone. She bent her head and lapped at it like a cat, sucking at the skin until the taste of sugar was gone. Jack gasped, his breathing roughening. Elizabeth smiled to herself, glorying in the unexpected sense of power. She tipped the bottle again, filling the hollow on the other side, and the gunshot scars below it. Whoever invented cups was a cold, unfeeling wretch, she reflected. Her tongue tentatively swept the ragged edges of the scar. A moan escaped Jack's lips. Emboldened, she sucked the rum out of the hollows, the sweetness giving way to the seasalt taste of his skin. Her mouth moved lower still, to encircle a nipple and bite down hard as he groaned and arched toward her. She laughed huskily and the warmth of her left suddenly. He opened his mouth to protest, but then felt her somewhere else entirely. His eyes flew open to the lovely sight of Lizzie easing herself onto his shaft. She gave a little moan and began to move, her eyes looking straight into his.
"You've dreamed about this, haven't you?" she whispered. "On the long, lonely nights at sea…" She rose and fell above him like the sea herself.
"Yes," he groaned. In his fevered dreams, he was usually the one on top, but he wasn't about to complain now. His mind centered around one thought, to touch as much of her as he possibly could. One hand circled around her waist and the other found her secret places and the sensitive nub that hid there. Her rocking accelerated, the friction intensifying until Jack thought he would faint from pure sensation. She arched, her head flung back, his fingers eliciting cries like honeyed wine from her throat.
"Ah, God, Jack!" she screamed as her body began to shudder and fall. He reared up to meet her, finding his pleasure seconds after her own. For a moment, they hung there in bliss, outside of time, and then dropped onto the sand, wrapped in each other's arms.