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FOOLISH Author: Lady Anaranë Disclaimer: I do not own “Pirates of the Caribbean” or the character Jack Sparrow. Summary: You had not planned to fall in love with him. It was impossible for two pirates to do such a thing, especially when there was no one in this world you couldn’t despise more. But yet you found yourself tangled in his bed sheets night after night, your body doing exactly what your mind was telling it not to do. An animal attraction. One-shot. Author's Note: Feedback on this is very much appreciated, considering I am not 100% satisfied with it. * * * * * Sometimes, he thinks, that this is all you’ve had. Pain, and lies and destruction. He can’t even remember the last time you smiled. And that tears him apart more then you would ever imagine. He finds you sitting by yourself in the parlor, peering out the window with dry eyes. Come to think of it, he can’t remember the last time you cried, either. You are more than talented at hiding yourself behind that beautiful porcelain doll face. You turn when you feel his eyes on you, dark and soulful. He stands at the doorway, watching you intently, hoping, -wishing- you’ll say something. You believe you’ve already said enough. He frowns as you turn away from him. But instead of allowing you to leave, to ignore and forget all of the things the two of you have endured, he catches you tightly by the arm. “I’m a fool,” he whispers so only you can hear. Your eyes raise from the rough digits grasping your flesh to meet his own. “Where there’s one, there’s always another,” you reply simply. He brings his other hand up to cup your cheek, to trace internal tears and brush away a stray lock of hair from your eyes. “She meant nothing to me,” he supplies. “I wasn’t talking about her,” you say quietly. His eyes flash, but he does not allow you to pull away. “Stay,” he tells you. “Why?” But his gaze is hollowing your stomach. “Stop looking at me like that.” “Like what?” “Like I’m breaking your heart,” you comply. He swallows. “You are.” You can’t believe him. “If anyone is breaking hearts, then you, Jack Sparrow, make an art of it.” His thumb brushes gently along your bottom lip. “I was angry,” he explains. You step back. “Don’t. I don’t want to know why you crawled into her bed.” “Why do you always make things harder than they have to be?” “Don’t you dare turn this around on me,” you accuse him harshly. “You would be cold too if you were in my place.” Roughly, he pulls you to him. “I panicked,” the pirate supplies. “I panicked, and I did what I would have done before you came along. To drown you out of my head.” You feel the tears coming, but somehow you hold them at bay. You won’t allow yourself to break in front of him now. Not after all of the walls you’ve built in order to prevent it from happening. “I suppose your brilliant plan was successful, then?” Slowly, he shakes his head. “You’re still all I can think about.” Even after all of the lies you’ve told yourself, convinced yourself you don’t need him, you can’t deny the safety you feel when you’re in his arms. Gently, he buries his face in your neck, inhaling your scent and tightening his arms about your waist. “Will told me that was love, when I couldn’t stop dreaming of you, couldn’t stop -breathing- you. I’m a -pirate-, for Christ’s sake! It’s practically forbidden; falling in love can get a man killed,” he whispers. Then, he pulls back so he can see your eyes. “But I’m willing to take that risk.” Despite your motives, a tear slides from the corner of your shining eyes. “I’m not,” you manage to whimper, and pull away from him, fearful that being in his arms may change your mind. Never looking back, you flee up the grand staircase, leaving him behind in your wake. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, you tell yourself. He knows nothing of being in love. The pirate stands where you left him, completely and utterly numb. Your scent lingers on his clothing, never allowing him to forget. No, he’s more than a fool. “Why didn’t you go after her?” a voice from beside him asks. “You know she wants you to.” He looks over to see Elizabeth Turner, watching him with warm hazel eyes. “You don’t know that,” he responds. Elizabeth sighs. “She’s heartbroken, Jack, because she loves you. She doesn’t know what she wants right now, but she does want you to convince her.” “It looks like she’s already made up her mind.” “Then you’re blind,” she says. “You’ve found a beautiful woman who has fallen in love with the man behind the pirate. She would leave behind everything she knows in order to be with you, and you’re just going to let her get away?” His eyes follow every step your feet had taken up those stairs, and then gazes down the dark hallway, your bedroom out of sight. He can still taste you on his tongue. “It’s too late for that. I lost her the moment I stepped into that forbidden bedchamber. The moment my fingertips touched her flesh.” Elizabeth puts her hand on his arm. “It’s not too late, I promise you.” He watches her for a moment, his face thoughtful as he contemplates her words. Then, without a word of warning, he takes off after you, bolting up the stairs. But as his scuffed boots reach the threshold of your temporary bed chamber, he suddenly stops all together, his hand frozen above the door handle. You cling desperately to the bed clothes, your knuckles white as a gasp escapes your throat, the tears falling like never before. They nearly came out of nowhere, causing you to hide your face with shameful hands. You promised yourself you’d stay strong, that you wouldn’t cry. Now you feel you’ve betrayed yourself. You hadn’t planned on falling in love with him. In fact, you couldn’t stand him when you had first met, strong female that you are. He was cunning, and sarcastic, and utterly infuriating. In other words, the two of you hit it off from the start. Within the heat of an argument months before, he had grabbed you mid-sentence , silencing you with a kiss. You had fought him at first, pushing against his chest although your lips had responded almost instantly. Your body was doing exactly what you told it not to do. But that was just the beginning. When the sun was up, the two of you fought endlessly, nothing changed by just a simple, hungry kiss. But by nightfall, you found yourself entangled in the sheets of his bed, arching and yearning for more. And needless to say, Jack was more than willing to give you everything you wanted, and then some. He was confused himself why he was so enamored with you. There was your obvious beauty, of course, with your long charcoal curls and porcelain skin. It was talked about from port to port, the pirate lass who looked as though she was taken right out of a fairytale. But it wasn’t your sparkling eyes and soft curves that had him up a wall; it was something deeper than that. Which, of course, confused the pirate captain even more. Being drawn to pretty things is part of his nature, being a bad ransacking egg and all, but when he was around you, he couldn’t remember being so irritated with anyone in his life. You talk down to him, you refuse to call him captain, and most displeasing of all, you have none of his flirting or cunning admiration. But yet, he wanted you more than anything he could ever remember aspiring. Maybe it was the simple fact that he wanted something you deemed he couldn’t have, but after that first kiss, he had to have another. And after that first night he claimed you his, he had to do so every night after that. He was consumed by you, by your scent and your touch and your taste. Captain Jack Sparrow, a man with more willing women at every port then any other pirate, couldn’t keep his hands off you, and most importantly, his mind. He didn’t understand it and didn’t want it. So he contemplated on what he would do in any other situation; if the Pearl was fatally damaged, if he lost his crew, if all the rum was burned... and that solution was to get horribly drunk and have a pleasurable night with any woman other than you. And that he did. But that night wasn’t as gratifying as he had imagined it being. The strumpet was willing, as he assumed all women would be, but something was amiss. A lot of things were amiss. First of all, she was -too- willing, although he never would have thought there was such a thing previously. She wasn’t curious of his body, or passionate, or eager, or fervent in any way, as you always were. Sex was just a simple job to her; all she wanted was to get it done so she could get paid and move on down the line to the next man. It was more than unsatisfying. Although all of this occurred in order for Jack to keep his mind far away from you, it was then he thought of you more. He thought of the way you felt beneath him, pleading silently with yourself to leave, but gasping and arching into his caresses all the more. He thought of your voice, a forbidden melody that swore to him every night that this would be the last time. He thought of the sway of your hips and the freckles that dotted your shoulders and the tops of your cheek bones. That’s when he realized drowning you out was a mistake, when all he really wanted was to kiss you, and hear your voice, and make love to you until his dying day, although he’d never have the strength to tell you. The empty feeling in his chest turns to a painful convulsion as he opens the door to your room, only to find you a soggy heap on the bed, your skirts fanned out over the covers. Gently, slowly, he reaches out with unsure fingertips to brush your skin, expecting you to vanish into a mist or crumble beneath his touch. When you don’t he climbs onto the bed and pulls your resisting form into his arms, clutching you tightly. “Fight me all you want, but you won’t get away,” he tells you. You hit your fist against his chest, weeping how much you despise him, cursing him to the bottom of the sea, but still you pull at his shirt to bring him nearer to you as you cry and gasp into his chest. “Please, darling, don’t do this,” he whispers into your hair. You lift your head from his chest, ready with clenched fists for a fight, but not expecting him to calm you so easily with his lips. The pirate gathers and pulls you to him tighter, his tongue stroking every part of your mouth, leaving no inch unexplored with his plight to keep you. Your taste is sweet and fresh, addicting, just as he remembered. It’s been far too long. He whispers your name and you nearly melt into him, your eyes slipping shut as his kisses trail heat down your neck, his mouth and hands bringing the life back into you as they slide over your breasts and down your sides. “Why do you do this?” you whisper. “Why do you taunt me when I know it will not last?” He presses you into the mattress with his body, his weight most pleasant atop of you. “Believe me, love, when I say I made a mistake.” A sigh escapes your lips as he pulls at the laces of your dress, his mouth and body claiming you wherever he sees fit. And you allow him to as he removes the clothing from your flesh, his palms running greedily over your curves. You tear at his shirt, hastily removing it as he lifts his arms in compliance. He chest is smooth and warm, the muscles and bronze skin salty under your tongue. He doesn’t dare ask why you once again allow him to take you, not because he’s afraid, but because he knows you yourself are unaware of the answer to such a question. It’s a mystery to the both of you, the rules unknown. As he tosses the last of your clothing to the floor, he closes his eyes and concentrates on your touch, the soft brush of your fingertips as you slip off the last of the barriers keeping bare skin from bare skin. For a long moment he just watches you, gazing as you arch and form into his touch. It’s an animal attraction, he finally decides. There’s no other way to explain it. “How could I loose you?” he whispers softly into your ear. “I would go absolutely mad.” And as he makes love to you, gently, roughly, kissing you aggressively yet stroking your skin with the tenderness and compassion of a husband. He moves over you, his hot breath on your neck and his lust consuming you until your trembling beneath him and pleading without modesty. Maybe it is simply the want to feel that draws you to him. The desire to live and to breath and be beautiful. Maybe, you think, just maybe, he wants to feel that way as well. But if there’s one thing you do know, it’s that you’re foolish to allow this man to want you to live and breath and be beautiful. To break down your walls and expose yourself. Maybe that’s what falling in love is all about. THE END |