Playlist: 'Closer' by Kings of Leon. (Another motherfugging sexy track).

I hope you liked that last chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Looks like Jack is getting more than he bargained for.

Thank you for the lovely reviews, I'm glad you're enjoying the playlists and the thick-and-fast chapters. I need something to help me recover from revision every day, and this is perfect :)

6

Oh, a nice fat cook wouldn't do us any harm
Oh, a roll in the clover wouldn't do us any harm
Oh, a long spell in gaol
Oh, a nice watch below
Oh, a night with the gals wouldn't do us any harm.

'Closer'.

Three days later.

Jack stumbled onto the deck and took the helm, half-dizzy.
The dream, again.
It had been slightly different that time, in small ways, but he forgot now.
And he had woken up for a second time with the most intense, ridiculous cravings, the insane need to keep his frustrations at bay, else he thought he would break under the torturous deprivation.

Was this really happening to him? More than just the once?
Usually he only thought about doing the dirty with gals while he was doing them.
There was never much space in between desire and getting.

His gut seemed to clench and sink inside him for a moment as he realised, this time, there was likely going to be no correlation between desiring and getting at all.
A Governor's daughter may look very well and reciprocative in his dreams, but in the greyer light of reality the most he would get was a wrinkled nose to convey her disgust.
One of the only disadvantages of being a fugitive of the law.
No classy lasses.

Not that he preferred classy lasses generally - the poor were usually more fun - but...
But. There was always a 'but' when it came to this sort of thing, wasn't there?
Admitting he was interested in something other than treasure, and the Pearl.

Perhaps that was just it. She was something like the Pearl. Her attraction lay in her infuriating ability to evade his clutches, to remain just out of his reach.

He brushed off the small, argumentative thought that it could equally be because of the potential he saw in her, her fierce nature, her wild lust for excitement -
That, in the depths of his unadmitted base desires, she was a storm he had never encountered, a storm he would like very much to have the opportunity to conquer.

To revel in her fire, then quench it with the power of his long, wet kisses - to throw her against things, feel her flaying fists, injuring him, tearing at his hair - let her fight under him, let the ferocious, vicious animal inside her battle with him.

Then grasp her wrists, pin her helpless, enjoy the bites she administered to his mouth as he smothered her lips, and kiss her roughly - to finally feel her beginning to fight alongside him, not against him, submitting to his ruling will.

To hear her involuntary moans and feel her limbs slackened with pleasure, place a hand on her throat, slightly threatening but playful -

To abruptly throw her onto his Captain's mattress and rip her clothes from her and scatter them amongst the plush velvet cushions...

Oh, bugger.

That quiet argumentative thought wasn't as quiet as it had seemed to be.
He smirked silently to himself.

He was a fool.

Music Fades Out Gently.

"Brace the mainsail!" he barked. He needed to pay attention to the functions of the ship.
He shielded his eyes from the harsh sunlight and gazed ahead, and - he could see the Isle de Muerta.
That perked him up to no end.
Understatement. It made him practically want to dance with hearty, bloodlusty thrills.
His madman's grin was fixed resolutely back in place, replacing the secret smirk.

"How is it that Jack came by that compass?" he heard from behind him a half-hour later, as they were drawing up to the island.
The whelp.

"Not a lot's known about Jack Sparrow before he showed up in Tortuga with a mind to go after the treasure of the Isla de Muerta . That was before I met him, back when he was Captain of the Black Pearl."
Gibbs. Just like him to give everything away at once.
"Yes, he mentioned - it was stolen from him."
"And a hard-learned lesson it was. Three days out on the venture, the first mate comes to him and says everything's an equal share. That should mean the location of the treasure, too, so Jack gives up the bearings. That night - there was a mutiny. They marooned Jack on an island and left him to die but not before he?d gone mad with the heat."
"Ah. So that's the reason for all the...?"

Jack turned around to see what impressions Will was doing, half-hoping to have an excuse to snap at him, but he just missed it.
"Reason's got nothing to do with it." Gibbs said solemnly, unaware that he was being observed, "Now Will, when a man is marooned he is a given a pistol with a single shot, one shot. Well it won't do much good hunting or to be rescued. But after three weeks of a starvin' belly and thirst, that pistol will start to look real friendly. But Jack - he escaped the island, and he still has that one shot. Oh, but he won't use it, though, save for one man. His mutinous first mate."
"Barbossa."
"Aye."
"How did Jack get off the island?"

Bloody nosy git.

"Well, I'll tell ye. He waded out into the shallows and there he waited three days and three nights till all manner of sea creature came and acclimated to his presence. And on the fourth morning, he roped himself a couple of sea turtles, lashed 'em together and made a raft!"
An incredulous pause.
Jack signalled to Cotton to take the helm, and meandered innocently up to the pair of seadogs.
"He roped a couple of sea turtles?" Will condescended with a sneer.
"Aye, sea turtles."
"What did he use for rope?"

The pair looked up as Jack's shadow fell across them.
"Human hair." he murmured ominously, "From my back."
Will's eyebrows shot up and nearly disappeared into his tangled hair. Jack frowned.
"Let go of the anchor!" he bellowed, instead of slapping Will like he wanted to.

"Let go of the anchor, sir!" came the obedient reply.

On second thoughts about flogging the morals out of this lot - Jack did quite appreciate that they hadn't carried out a mutiny of their own yet. A sight better than the last lot.

He looked at Will for a moment, and wondered whether he should feel guilty for selling him off to Barbossa for his own ends. The boy had no motive for being here but honesty and trust. Trust in Jack.
Well then, it was his own bloody fault that he was potentially about to be drained dry of blood. He should have known Jack for a rotten liar and run for it when he could.
Not that Jack would have let him.

Stop thinking about other peoples' problems. It's no use to us.

"Young Mr. Turner and I are to go ashore." Jack stated, mostly to Gibbs.
He turned to head for the longboat.
Gibbs caught up with him, and grabbed him by the shoulder.
"Captain! What if the worst should happen?"

Jack considered. The thought of being left behind in a sticky spot was never appealing.
But then, to have Barbossa claim the Interceptor too...
Too much to bear. Definitely too much.

"Keep to the code." he advised casually.
"Aye, the code."

As they lowered themselves onto the ocean and Jack briefly thought about the look on 'Lizabeth's face when he arrived - perhaps she would even look glad to see him - it suddenly struck him that she may already be dead. Barbossa and his crew were unpredictable. If they needed her blood to lift the curse, who knows where they could have cut her open.
If they had already begun the ritual.

"Hurry up, we might still be in time." he said louder than he'd meant to, suddenly putting his back into rowing. Will looked surprised, but didn't ask any stupid questions.