*Slight explicit material in this chapter.*

Ye be warned...

Chapter 19: Sparks

My heart is yours

It's you that I hold onto.

Yeah, that's what I do.

I know I was wrong,

But I won't let you down.

I said I…

I cry out…

Yeah, I saw sparks.

It was an entertaining ride back to the ship, a shared bottle of rum between Elizabeth and the two older men, nonsensical laughter over a story of Gibbs in reference to another trip to Florida, one she already slightly knew of. Jack was humorous, but only so much as his pride would allow, as always was his case of barrier. She appreciated his smile in the lowering sun though, the glint of joy she was preview to, something different for a change. Her bones didn't shiver from her damp clothes this time, perhaps from the warmth of the sun, or the company. Whatever it was, she savored it with each sip of drink and each smile that was shot her way from Jack.

At the final stroke of oars, they came along the hull of the ship, Jack helping Lizzie up onto the ladder's platform first, making sure to sumptuously caress or hold certain places on her arms, her legs, all things she took account of. The rest of the crew helped Gibbs tangle the boat, as well as the one Elizabeth had taken, tied to the back of his and Jack's own, back up to the ropes of the hanger. There was questioning on deck for all three of them, about the land, the natives if there were any found, yet the only answers that could be easily given were simple.

Jack insisted, "Th' coast is safe."

Elizabeth added by her own notion, "There's swampland everywhere."

And Gibbs, still shaking in his boots from the mere trip alone, "No Injuns yet, mates. But God elp' our souls if there be…"

Barbossa was still fixed at the helm with a glinting eye towards Jack, but he ignored this, nodded once, and found his way through the crowd of crewman to where he saw Lizzie scanning the floor of one of the boats for something. He knew exactly what, and walking up from behind where she was squatted at the deck's ground, he whispered quietly overhead, "Need t' get ye dry clothes, Elizabeth."

Her eyes tore away from the hunt for her hair comb, and she caught Jack's calm gaze with a nod, "Yes, please. I haven't anymore left." He helped her to her feet, hand in hand and led her back towards his cabin, very few noticing this save for Gibbs, who held a smile, and Barbossa who grunted at the thought of any indecent acts in what he still considered his room.

Safely inside, Elizabeth broke away from Jack's hand as he strode across the space, quickly lighting candles, a few lanterns, and finding a fresh stack of clothes for both of them from his trunk. This had been the second time she had worn his clothes, and no complaints could come of such, she loved the smell of them more than she would ever admit. Hesitantly, she stood by the bed, watching him remove his shirt with very little care and replace it with another. He left into a further, curtained corner though to conclude in changing out his pants, dropping the wet ones to the wood floor, and then returning with shock that she still stood in her drenched garments.

"Can't tell me yer comfortable like that, luv."

"Oh…well no…I just…"

"Ah right, forgot…turn round' Jack. Eh?"

Smiling at his mockery, she reached for the crinkled edges of her shirt, slowly lifting it against her cool skin, making him stand in wonderment while he attempted a turn on his feet. To his surprise though, she continued lifting higher even as his eyes were still fixed on her.

"No Jack. Don't look away."

Did she really just say…his mind was spinning as he watched still, the honey of her skin melting into the candlelight, the delicate mounds of her breasts poking out as the shirt filtered over her head, and off onto the floor. She was bare in the light, strings of wet hair falling across her firm, russet buds, heaving towards him, the sheepish glow in her eyes wavering from her feet, to the bed, to him finally.

"I want you to see me."

He grinned out of habit and took one step closer.

"Please don't me so afraid of me, Jack."

Another step, a flip in his gut.

"I meant what I said last night."

Further feet on the wood, coming to her in the light, he stares.

"I don't want to be a ghost anymore." A tear fell quickly at the inner corner of her eye, "I'm tired of being so alone. I want to feel whole again, Jack."

He finalizes his stepping, stands just before her and breathes deeply, chest rising and falling at her eyes. Jack made no attempt to touch her, not yet, he wanted to make the air as clear as possible, finish the riff of all that had been said and still needed to be shouted. With a lasting whisper he looked at the ceiling of the room, then to the candles flickering over her form, and finally back down to her lips.

"An' ye want me t' fill the gap, take over where Will left off?"

"No. I don't want you to be Will. I want you to be here with me."

"Until th' whelp returns, ay?"

"No, Jack…" she stammers with annoyance, tilting her head off to wipe the tears away. "You know that's not what I mean…stop being so childish."

"Elizabeth," his voice grew strong instantly, his hand finally touching her arm as she turned back to him, seeing his eyes deep, the richest they had been in all the time she had known him, ablaze, haunting, desperate, "…O' all the things I can do, reading minds still isn't one o' them. I ave' t' hear you say it…say what ye want."

"What I want…" she began, her fingers twisting in the ties of her pants, running them down the length of her legs as he watched. "…is for you to show me what it's like. I just want to know what it feels like."

"Wot'?"

"The peak I've heard other woman speak of. That moment, where everything crashes together…" throwing her hands about with a stammering glow, he melts into her words, "…that flash of everything all at once…I never had that with Will. I wish to feel it with you, Jack."

Stunned simply wasn't the right term for the situation, for the claim she'd made so openly. Elizabeth wanted to feel the one and only thing that Jack could admit had left him fearful at times, nervous, breathless, exposed and impervious to himself and others. Passion, the strength of one's own will under another's, the act of falling into a great of abyss of triumph and light, darkness and fervor, all in seconds. That's what she wanted, and not from Will, or any other high and mighty member of solid society, but from a pirate, from him, the same way he had only wanted it from her. Stunned. Fixated. Honored, he was.

Stepping in behind her, Jack's hand slowly dances across her shoulders, neck bone, the blades of her back, until he brings her body against his chest, one hand lagging at the softened muscle of her waist. Elizabeth feels his breath in her hair, at the tender lobe of her ear, all around her, in places she fears it should never be. She feels him now.

"Th' pinnacle, Lizzie…" he whispers gently inside the crook of her neck, stinging heat rising up and down her spine at his words, she breathes but it is caught in her ribcage. "A height…one ye may never come back down from…climatic, lucid, raw as one can be with another…is that what ye want from me?"

"Yes."

His lips warm every cool spot on her back, along the path of her trembling spine, as his free hand moves affront to conduce tiny sparks against her tight breasts, the moans forcing him to strum harder, quicker, more often against the sensitive buds. Everything feels different than it did the night before, it feels right now, fair, open ground with open words.

"Direct me, Elizabeth…tell me where t' go."

It was not something that was understood through the sensation of his fingers and mouth already, but taken lightly, to heart, she found herself succumbing to the will of his need to know.

"My breasts…please, Jack…your--"

"Me…wot'?"

"Mouth…ah, your mouth."

As commanded, he spun her weight in his arms, lending her bare back towards the bed, while his lips, his rough tongue laid ground upon her neck, chest, over the first of her breasts, holding it tightly in the palm of his hand while he kissed and gnawed at it, bringing it to the purest of life within the core of his mouth. Elizabeth felt her entire body arch against his hold, hair dangling out and away from her, thighs pressing into the hardness of his own, and her hands lost somewhere in the history of his beads and dreads. Will had done this once before, for seconds and no more, so unsure of himself, so unsure of her. But Jack's mouth was different, it was skilled, scorching instantly upon her skin, leaving her in raptures only fantasized about. Everything she witnessed Jack doing in the swamp earlier, seemed to be her bodies own device for passion, the very same intensity, her toes curling down into the wood floor, fingers clenching at his neck, back, wherever she could take hold. And this merely from the first devouring of one breasts, signified and doubled when he moved across to improve treatment to the other.

She was losing control though, her lips dried from moaning and in need of finally touching his own, the heat that she felt on her breasts, she wanted on her tongue. And command was given as he had hoped it would be.

"Jack…your lips feel…kiss me!" She shouted it without a care in the world, and when he immediately drew away from her chest to find her the widespread 'O' of her mouth, he attacked it and she was glad for her insistence. There was no time spared, tongues meeting feverishly, on fire, wet strokes and patters against teeth, cheeks, lips. And while so occupied with his mouth, he found strength enough to lift her to the close edge of the bed, sitting her down so that her legs came to wrap firmly around his ass, naturally pulling him into her growing heat, the wetness there the same as her mouth. Elizabeth had asked him for what she had never felt before, the prodding peak that can only come of an experienced pair of lips, of the right tongue, the right man. Will Turner in all of his compassion, was not the right candidate, Jack had always been aware of this, and only know had the knowledge of his being correct all along. At twenty-two years old, his Lizzie was deprived of something he wished he could have shown her years ago. Now was the time to bring her to the height of existence, to prove to her that the sin of committing such acts in their position would be blinded by his mouth, his body upon hers. She was wet, and as ready as ever, and this more than anything brought a glow to his eye.

Parting lips, he smiled and whispered against her jaw, "Take me hand…"

Shyly and still clinging to his neck for breath, she did as told, and glanced down between them as he shuffled for a better grip on her and the bed.

"Where do ye want it, Lizzie…where do ye want me hand?"

"Where?"

"Aye…place it where ye wish." Again, she was lost and lightly giggled to show her nervousness. Fondling each of his fingers shakily, she slowly her movement as she brought his hand further and further down her chest, to her hips and then into the heat, the temptation of her thighs, between them where he wanted to be, judging by the grin on his face.

"W-what do I do now?"

"That job's me own…you…" he stifled with a growl as he draped her down onto the mattress further, "…Relax."

Seconds passed, what felt like minutes, hours, eternity, as she watched from a lying position, Jack body cover her own, his chest rise against the bed, as his hand disappeared further into her thighs, parting away at every sensitive fold of her skin, all of it moistened. Her breathing labored he darted his eyes back up to her, as if expecting it, and assured her quietly, "Easy luv…yer fine, I swear it. Just breathe…"

"Okay." A pinch of the word, a pinch of her senses as the world darted before her in brilliant flashes of white, red, black, Jack's fingers taking a duty within the confines of her drenched core. Grasping out for the sheets around her, they barely help and only add to the erotic nature and sensation growing inside of her, deep, further than she could have imagined the simple finger of a man to fit. Her tongue was bitten to a bleed while he held her still, allowing the adjustment to take place, waiting to know that she was as relaxed as he.

"I don't ear' ye breathing…" his smile was waned but seductive as he peered over her kneecaps.

"Am…I…supposed to?"

"Might help." With a single wink, she began to feel movement within, a slight tug, withdraw, and force pumping along the inside walls. Lifting her head from the mattress a ways to attempt a witnessing account of it, she could only see Jack's face, fixed upon his work, a twisting and lip biting zeal plastered over every inch, the kohl of his eyes melting back into the rims of his eyes. It was a view she was convinced could only be a dream, but the feeling of him was too real, too raw as he had claimed, to not be true. The moans, sweetened whispers of breath that escaped her lips, drew her further into the motion, the slide of her body down upon his hand's ministrations, forcing her to beg for more.

"Take it Lizabeth…all o' it…"

His words stirred a desperate speed in her as she felt her backside lift from the bed, his freed hand rubbing the inside of her thigh, while another finger entered her, hooking and catching on the swollen insides of her being. There was more pressure than he had known in years from a woman, the finest youthfulness he'd known, the tight, desperate cling of her body gripping to his knuckles, wanting more, taking more with each swipe she made. It left him equally breathless from just simply watching it occur before, and how his own straining body wished for nothing more than to replace his finger, over and over again.

He watched her eyes fluttering, her lips curling, piercing, begging, and when he noticed her teeth bite down on her lower lip, he knew right where she was, the realm she had entered. Leaning up with continuing ministration, he came down to her stomach, kissing inch by inch, lapping moistly at her navel, murmuring.

"Come t' me now, dear…"

His lips wandered as her heart skipped numerous beats, feeling a pulse, a quick and unexpected call of his name, a desperate plea for what she had so wanted to experience.

"Do ye see em' Lizzie?"

She gasped once more, choking on words, on air as she tried to respond.

"W-what…Jack?"

Moving his face away from her stomach, he dipped it downward to where his finger still moved within her like the waves beneath the ship.

"The sparks…"

With colors fizzling out all around her, she felt one last, wet kiss upon the tenderized space between her legs, a suckling sensation, and then the world fell into the ocean, and her body fell into his hold. There were waves of invisible fire, stars everywhere, sparks just like he had said, they were everywhere, in the bed, in his hair, across her eyes. She was consumed by Jack Sparrow, figuratively, literally, every way she had always waited for, the best way possible, the way of what felt like love.

He eased his motion, let his fingers fall from within, licking them one after the other in only the most respectful, and humorous of ways as she worked to catch her breath. Still fully clothed, he rose to cover her body with his warmth, resting one leg between her thighs as he lay off to her side, stroking back the damp pieces of her hair. She trembled peacefully against him, holding his hand over her beating heart. He kissed the clammy spot at the corner of her brow, where laid a freckle, one he'd noted too many times to count.

"That was it Jack…"

"Wot' darling?"

"What I was looking for."

But I promise you this

I'll always look out for you…

Yeah, that's what I'll do.

And I saw sparks…

Song by Coldplay