She found him at his usual seat and tapped him on the shoulder. "Hello," she said nervously when he turned around. "I just came to see you to tell you… I can't see you this time." It had only been four months since last visit, but if he missed her half as much as she missed him, he was going to kill her.

"It appears that you're seein me this very moment."

"No, I mean…" she rolled her eyes impatiently. "I can't see you."

He stopped pretending not to understand. "Why's that?"

"Because…" She couldn't bring herself to say the words, worried that he might never want her again if he thought about it, so she just rested a hand on her stomach until he took her meaning.

"Ah. I see." He didn't appear disturbed. "And pray tell, where d'you get the idea that I'll be lettin you off the hook this evenin in consequence?" He slapped a coin on the bar and nodded farewell to the barkeep, then ordered Elizabeth without looking: "Follow me."

She hurried after him, elbowing her way through the crowd. She waited til the privacy of the bedroom to say, "Didn't you hear me? I said I can't – I'm with child."

Barbossa put his arms around her anyway. "And I say, congratulations on that. And I also say: even if I can't bed you don't mean y'wont be pleasurin me one way or another." He nodded towards the floor. "Down."

Her look of utter confusion told him that this would be a new one for her. So much the better. "Take your knees, and put 'em on the carpet," he clarified, smiling at the thought of what she would do when she caught on.

She knelt down, her dress fanning out around her. "I don't understand."

"You will," he assured, hands going to his breeches. "In fact it'll probly be comin natural to you – you women never shut your mouth to begin with."

Elizabeth had never seen an erection this close before. She stared at it, then up to his face, then back again. She thought over what he'd said, and her jaw dropped as the murkiest beginnings of comprehension surfaced.

He ran his thumb over her lower lip. "Aye, exactly."

He put his hands to the sides of her face and moved her nearer. "Open up… s'right." He let it rest lightly on her tongue, just an inch or two, then ordered, "Suck."

She closed her lips around him hesitantly and looked up for direction. "Mm-hmm," he encouraged, pressing a little further into her mouth. "Use your tongue, aye. Don't be shy to touch."

She pulled back. "I've never… I mean… Does everybody do this?"

"Me humble opinion," he laughed, toying with her hair, "Be that every wench worth her salt ought be able t'figure it out. Course, if you think you're not up to it…"

She rolled her eyes and gestured towards the bed. "Oh, please! Of course I will, I was just wondering. Sit down." He sat and she crawled over to him, brushed a lock of hair off her face, and went to work.

At first he was active in guiding her, resting a hand on her head to pull her closer, whispering words like deeper, aye, or arching his hips to work himself a little further into her mouth. Soon she seemed to get the hang of it and he let go, to see how she would do by herself.

She was warm and wet and endearingly unsure. He would have been content to sit back and enjoy her ministrations all night, except that she eventually rocked back on her heels and rolled her neck around.

"Here." He stood so that she wouldn't have to bend to such an unnatural angle. "Better?"

"Mmm-hmm," was all she could answer, because her mouth was full – of him. He liked that.

But in this position it was impossible for him to resist holding her head and thrusting. She didn't seem to mind at first. After a while, despite all his intentions to be a gentleman, it felt so good that he growled, "More" and pushed all the way into the back of her throat.

She gagged at that and for a moment couldn't breathe, so she heaved away from him in sudden panic. "Apologies," he gasped. The fist in her hair relaxed into a rough caress. "Truly. I just…"

There was a pleasurable twist in her belly at the realization of just how much he wanted and needed her in that moment. His voice was rough. His hands, which had retreated contritely to her shoulders, were damp and hot. She knew he was hungry and wanted him to satiate himself, to use her for it, but couldn't quite bring herself to say anything of the kind aloud.

So she took his hand, put it to the back of her head and looked up at him, willing him to get the message.

He got it. He rubbed over her red puffy lips, then plunged back in all the way.

This time her gagging didn't stop him from powering ahead until her face was pressed flat against him. In fact (though he would later feel a little guilty about this) he angled himself so that she would gag and choke as much as possible, because the spastic contractions of her throat massaged him better than anything she could do on her own. When he withdrew to let her breathe, she didn't voice a word of complaint but still he asked, "Y'all right?"

"Yes. Believe it or not I'm fine and more," she answered, bold enough to touch him now without being ordered.

"Good. Oh-…Open." She did, and this time he didn't hold anything back – long strong strokes that rasped over her tongue and bumped him against the back of her throat and might have made her fall backwards had he not been holding her head still.

In and out, powerful and rhythmic, and so good he moaned aloud. Elizabeth had long ago gotten the hang of moving in time with his thrusts, and now began also pressing up with her tongue to squeeze him. She sped up when he breathed her name. He hissed yes.

"Mmm." She found she liked to hear herself muffled in this particular way. She also liked the awkward squelching sound it made when it went too deep – which was often – and the quiet gasps of God and Lizabeth that Barbossa could not quite seem to control. She moaned again and reached around him to run her hands over his buttocks and grasp his thighs as though to hold him even closer.

He shoved hard against her face a few times, thrusting deep into her throat, and finally held it there. For a second Elizabeth felt like she was drowning, and by his loud string of swear words she knew exactly why.

She wiped all the slobber off her mouth and stood up slowly. Barbossa had collapsed to the bed, lying there like he would never have the energy to move again. It seemed to be all he could do to pat the space next to him.

She lay down, bemused. "Good?" she asked.

His lips quirked. "I think p'raps ye should get yourself with child more often."

"It's not funny," she sulked. "I'm glad you're happy, but as for me, it'll be another six months before the baby comes, and then…" Her eyes got wide as she thought it through, and she wailed: "… And then I can't take off straight away while it needs me constantly, can I… God, I won't be able to see you before next winter!"

"Fortunately we seem to've found a very agreeable alternative."

"Agreeable for you, maybe, but think how long I have to wait! It's not fair!"

He sighed. "You and the boy still live in Port Royal?"

"Yes, we- Captain Barbossa, you're not proposing to come to me, are you?"

He shrugged as though it didn't matter, then kissed her on the top of the head. "Least I can do. Six months, then, miss. Soon as you're quit o'that creature I'll come take care of ye straight away. How's that for fair?"

TBC.

I wonder if they had a name for booty calls back then…

Anyhow, for those who like the aggressive side of dear Lizzie, that should come out a bit next chapter. Let me know what you like so far. I think I'll probably do like two or three more installments, and then let these poor people get back to their PG-13-rated Disney lives :o)