Disclaimer: One little, two little, three little pirates, four little, five little, six little pirates, seven little, eight little, nine little pirates, and many more and none belong to me. I make no profit. I own nothing, really.

Chapter 14: I'm Just Your Gwen

She looked up into the pirate captain's dark eyes, wondering what he would think of her as soon as he realized what she had decided to do.

But, for once, it was time to let her rash streak take control.

Before Jack could ask her where she had been for the past couple of hours, she wordlessly snagged his braided goatee and gently tugged his face down to her. He immediately tried to protest, but her lips were in his way. Gwen let go of her hold on his beard, sliding her hands up to cup his face, splaying her fingers out over his jaw and ears and into his hair. Simultaneously, she forced her tongue into his mouth. He tasted of rum. After a long minute or two, she drew away from the searching kiss and looked up at him.

It was difficult to tell what his dark eyes were trying to tell her, or what they were trying to hide from her. He seemed surprised, of course, even though he was clearly trying to take it all in stride. What else? Did he look hopeful? Was she just being hopeful?

She noticed that his rum bottle was still held loosely in one hand. Reaching to take it from him, she took a long draw from the bottle and set it aside.

Gwen licked her lips and realized Jack hadn't moved. He was standing perfectly still, staring at her. When she looked up at him, however, he took the opportunity. With a hand under her chin to tilt her face up to meet his, he kissed her again. It was brief, but it left her breathless and it was somehow... well, "hungry" was the only word she could think of. It was also, she could sense, a question mark of sorts after the exclamation point she had made with her own kiss.

So now it was her turn to reply. Hesitating for only a moment, Gwen made her move. If Jack had been surprised at her marching in here and flat-out kissing him, it was nothing compared to the look of shock he bore when she wordlessly reached for the buckle of the baldric that held his favorite sword, which had been a gift from Will a year and a half ago. She already had the baldric off and slung in the general direction of his chair and was working on the well-worn leather belt around his waist before he could collect himself enough to react.

Catching her wrists with both hands, Jack glanced at the rum bottle sitting on the table, briefly entertaining the idea that she had already been drinking before she had come to him tonight. "What's wrong with ye, lass?"

Gwen didn't answer immediately. Her lower lip rolled inward in that way he had noticed she bit it when she was frustrated or worried or just thinking. Finally, she answered him, vaguely, in one word, a plea: "Jack..."

"Captain," he corrected automatically.

"Jack," she repeated much more firmly. She noticed his grip on her wrists was loose, and she casually flicked his restraint aside. Her small hands pressed flat against his chest, trailed down to his belly... And then a few seconds later there was a light, jingling thud as the buckle of his belt hit the floor.

"This is hardly behavior fitting for ye, Miss Webster," Jack said in a somewhat choked voice, astonished at himself for trying to talk sense into her now, but equally astounded by the way she was tugging his red-striped white sash away from his body.

Gwen looked up him, an unguarded expression on her braid-framed face that caught his full attention. "I'm just your Gwen," she said softly, but with much conviction, sending a chill up his spine. A chill which then turned into heat and plummeted to the pit of his stomach, spreading through his belly and groin.

For a long moment there was nothing but silence. Jack took a step or two closer to her, though they were already standing less than a foot away from each other, and took her into his arms.

With a teasing grin, he echoed, "My Gwen?"

She didn't say anything.

"What if I don't want ye, luv?" he asked, half-expecting a look of dismay to rise on her pretty features.

"Then you're a liar as well as a villain," she replied confidently.

Then she surprised him, yet again, when she snaked her arms around his waist, pulling their hips together. There was no hiding how much he wanted her with the evidence pressing against her stomach.

Jack willingly swallowed any other arguments he could possibly make. If she really wanted him, which she gave all appearances of, then he was certainly not going to miss the opportunity to bed her. He bent over her, meeting her lips in a light kiss which rapidly grew passionate.

Jack brought one hand up to Gwen's neck, running his thumb over her chin and jawline. His mouth left hers and began following the line he'd traced with his thumb while he gently tilted her head back. As he nibbled lightly at her earlobe and began to tongue his way down the long, graceful curve of her neck, his other hand reached for the line of buttons running down the front of her dress. He expected that if her "good-girl" inhibitions were going to return and spoil the mood, it would be when he began to undress her. But Gwen didn't even flinch as he pulled the buttons from their holes, one by one, with a quick skill.

And then he stopped, raising his head from her collarbone to meet her eyes.

He was determined to make this last. It was her first, he knew. But he had years of intimate experience under his belt. He had the maturity and control- at least, he hoped he did- to take his time, to take full advantage of Gwen's spirit and passion. For the mutual pleasure of them both.

"Jack..."

The way she said his name- he reluctantly admitted to himself that it sounded infinitely better than "Captain" when she said it that way. Just the right amount of desire and need mixed into the syllable, laced with both a question and a demand.

She was loathe to lose his lips and his touch. And he had to agree with those sentiments.

He kissed her again, and a no-holds-barred battle ensued between their tongues. Jack crushed her against himself once more. His hands cupped her buttocks, hugging her lower body as close to him as possible. He wanted- needed- to feel that exquisite ache that pounded through him with his hardness trapped between their bodies.

Jack slid his hands around to her hips, then began slowly moving them up her body, exploring. She flinched slightly as he passed a spot on her side. A ticklish rib. He smiled against her lips as he made note of it for future exploitation.

His hands stopped their trek at her breasts, his thumbs expertly massaging her nipples. A pleasant "mmm" sound rewarded his efforts, encouraging him. With deft movements he hooked his thumbs into the two now-unfastened sides of the front of her dress, and began to pull them apart, so he could slide the garment off her shoulders and down her body.

But he didn't quite get that far. A purposeful knock at his door halted his actions, and their kiss broke apart as both heads turned toward the door as though it had become a living thing. A particularly foul and unwelcome living thing, at that.

"Cap'n!" came a voice. "Land spotted!"

Jack stared at the door a moment longer, the report not really registering in his mind. He turned back to Gwen, whose interest in the door had apparently died as quickly as his had. He locked eyes with her for a moment.

Then Gwen's hands were sliding his vest down his arms, and he recaptured her lips for another deep, searching kiss.

He was marveling at Gwen's boldness, several minutes later, as she untucked his shirt and slipped her hands to skim over his skin underneath, when the door attacked again.

If someone who absolutely abhorred snakes had found one in his bed and cut its head off and then witnessed the headless snake's body writhing in its gruesome way when it was supposed to lie dead and harmless, then that person would understand completely the malicious glare that Jack threw at the door now.

Another voice, with a lazier accent that the one before, called. "Cept'n? An island's got sighted, dead ahead."

Jack slowly, reluctantly processed and interpreted all the information. First, those had been people knocking at his door, a sound he wasn't really all that accustomed to anymore with Gwen's habit of waltzing in without warning. He had to remind himself as well that doors usually weren't in the habit of interrupting amorous interludes of their own accord.

Second, his crew clearly expected him to come investigate the island-sighting himself, which, under normal circumstances, he would have done promptly.

And third, Gwen looked sensational.

She was staring up at him with her warm brown eyes, her lower lip caught between her teeth as she watched him. Her braided hair and the strip from his sash tied around her head suited her quite well, he thought- and reminded him of himself, since he'd done it. Her dress hung open, revealing a glimpse of the thin chemise through which he could easily see her hardened nipples standing out.

Which only made him the more upset at being interrupted. He swore under his breath as he began re-gathering his clothes. Gwen said nothing, but followed his lead and started re-buttoning her dress, though she was distinctly disappointed.

But her disappointment, at least, wasn't quite as noticeable as his. Jack ended up belting his sash a bit farther down his body than he normally did to simultaneously try to hide and ease his uncomfortable hard-on.

Gwen drew a finger thoughtfully across her lips as she watched the captain shoving his feet back into his boots. She picked up his hat and held it out to him just as he whirled to snatch it up. His scowl turned to a half-hearted grin for her sake, and he settled his hat on his head.

"C'mon, lass," he said dully, checking his pockets for his compass before opening the door. Gwen glanced longingly over at the bed before she followed him out into the night.

It took fully half an hour before they could even hear the breakers off-shore of the island, forty-five minutes before they were floating off its shore. The clear night, combined with the bright moon reflecting off the sea and the sharp, night-trained eye of the man in the crow's nest at that hour, had brought the spit of land into view when it was scarcely more than a dark spot in the moon-bathed waters. And they'd notified him, damn their over-eager souls, not much after that.

As the time ticked by, Jack tried not to let his disappointed desires get the better of him. But surely the crew could have waited before they had come for him.

Jack thought glumly about all the things he could have done with Gwen in all that wasted time as he stood watching the island drag slowly nearer. Could've done some of them twice, even.

When those thoughts had run their course, not helping his aching groin any, he turned back to silent curses for a moment before stealing a glance at Gwen, standing beside him at the helm.

She had seduced him.

He tried the thought again, to make sure he fully understood what had happened. She had seduced him.

Or she had tried, and very well would have had him between her legs before too much longer if only they hadn't been disturbed. He wished earnestly that she had succeeded.

Then, with an audible groan, he had to force himself to veer away from those thoughts. And force himself to keep his hands on the wheel lest he try to take matters into them best left hidden for now. And force himself to bite his tongue on suggestions to Gwen on what she could do with her hands. Or what she could do in general.

He grimaced. Women were bad luck. Had to be. A man couldn't concentrate like this. Well, couldn't concentrate on anything that involved wearing clothes or acting civilized.

But by the time those forty-five minutes had passed, Jack's mood and body had neutralized themselves somewhat.

The island, he estimated, was about two and half miles long and perhaps half a mile or so across in some places. When the Pearl had gotten as close to it as he dared let her go without running into the shoals, he brought out his compass and passed it to Gwen and whatever mystic secret she held that made it useful only in her hand these days. Then he began to steer the ship in a broad circle around the island. After about fifteen minutes, when it became clear that the compass needle was following the island, not the horizon, he was satisfied that this was their destination, not merely an obstacle directly in the path on the way to some other goal.

Gwen, as soon as she was no longer needed to hold the compass, silently slipped away and disappeared back into the captain's quarters. The captain himself, however, couldn't manage to sneak away so quickly. An hour came and went, and then another, as he continued sailing his circle around the island, peering into the moonlit gloom for any obvious signs of human or animal life or other signs of danger they might want to know about immediately. The night-crew, embellished with some of the more light-sleeping men who had heard the original calls or the tramping around on the deck above their heads, leaned over the sides of the ship, listening carefully for breakers lest the Pearl scrape along rocky ridges or sandbars as they made their slow progress around the island.

Once, for a brief moment, Jack was almost certain he had seen a light deep with a cluster of trees. But just as quickly, it was gone, and he decided he must have imagined the flicker. When at last Jack and his men were satisfied with their survey of the island, Jack gave the order to drop anchor and wearily made his way back to his cabin.

He'd managed to at least push to the back of his mind the events of earlier. Now, though, his relative good mood was in peril of being consumed by bitterness at his failed love-making. Gwen had actually come to him, had been begging him, really...

When he let himself into his cabin, he found Gwen in his bed, fast asleep. She had left one of the lamps on his desk burning low for him, but apparently had either been too tired or disappointed to wait up when he didn't come back quickly enough.

Jack allowed himself to wonder what had happened with her as he pulled off his boots, coat, belt, sash, and vest. Well, even he himself had noticed that she had thrown herself into enjoying her time on the ship recently. Perhaps she had finally just abandoned all and embraced the Pearl?

He would bring up the subject of the Code with Gibbs and the crew in the morning, perhaps. He had been waiting for some sign that Gwen was truly committed to the idea of abandoning her prior lifestyle before he answered her request to join the ship's crew. He hadn't know exactly he was waiting for as the sign... but her behavior tonight certainly counted.

Turning the wick in the lamp down, Jack moved over to the bed.

He slid into bed beside her. For a second or two he found himself staring into Gwen's half-lidded eyes and his hope flared high, but then she merely settled against him, making sleepy little sounds and drifting back out of consciousness. Wrapping an arm around her and pulling her close, Jack sighed heavily. This wasn't exactly what a man expected to do when he slept with a woman. Usually there were fewer clothes, more sweat, and more satisfaction.