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CHAPTER 11 - The First Kill
Your scream echoes through the moonlit night as the bloody excuse for a man reaches for you with his one good hand. You lurch out of his grasp and scramble to get up, tripping and slipping over your own feet. "(___)!" Jack screams at you from beneath the grate. He slams against it again and again, trying to move the latch and escape to you. You were so very close in opening it... "JU’LUC! I swear if you touch her-!!" "’ll be doin’ more ‘an that, Cap’n..." he calls back as he approaches you. "Don’t you lay a fuc-" "Lang’age, lang’age...I’ll ‘ave to teach ye a lesson fer talkin’ to me like that, slattern." As you scramble to get to your feet, he grabs you around the waist with his good hand. Luckily for you, he can’t get a good grip, as Gibbs’ horrendous amount of blood upon your clothing makes you rather slippery, and you slide away from him easily, knocking yourself down, and taking him with you. "Ja-aa-ack!!" you bleat out desperately. You can hear him slamming against the grate again and again, hollering various un-repeatable profanities at your attacker as he tries to escape from the hole. Just a little bit more, and it would’ve swung free easily... Ju’luc grabs at your ankle, and you kick at him, landing a good proper kick to his already damaged face. He shrieks out, but doesn’t let go. He grabs you fully, numb to the throbbing pain in his face, and pulls you to your feet. He lands a hard double-punch to your gut, knocking the wind out of you, causing you to double-over in pain. He takes his bad arm, and wraps it across your chest as you’re helplessly gasping for air, his forearm choking you. You put your hands up as you struggle to try and free yourself of his grip, wheezing something awful, but he’s so much larger than you. You can hear Jack yelling and shouting, along with the splintering sounds coming from his constant slamming against the grate. "(___)!!" "...Ja...ack!" you cry out softly. You’re being slowly suffocated, and cannot find the breath to do much more than see. You’re disgusted to feel Ju’luc’s face in your neck in a cruel imitation of a lover’s sweet gesture, and you try ever more to free yourself from his grip as you start to see dark spots in front of your eyes. "This is more like it, eh dolly?" he whispers in your ear, filling you with revulsion to your inner core. He then proceeds to tell you what he’ll be doing to you in a moment as he drags you up the steps to the helm, of all places. "...and two days still ‘til Tortuga to try out the cat. ‘ope yer not a bleeder." He smiles cruelly, fully enjoying manhandling you, as he reaches his destination. "But I s’pose ye are a bleeder," he says, clawing his fingers over the gash on your cheek, stinging the wound like fire. He’s disgustingly proud of his work. He loosens his grip on you just enough for you to gulp precious air and scream out for Jack, in which he covers your mouth with his forearm as you try to lift it. "Yer not gonna be doin’ any o’ that, ye li’l whore." A loud smash ensues from somewhere on the ship, and you take this moment to bite down hard upon his arm, drawing blood. He screams out in pain and flings you hard against the side of the ship, smashing your head against the tough wood, causing the world to die. In a moment almost slowed down in time, Jack rushes the stairs, sword in hand, seeing you flung hard against his ship, falling down into an unmoving, bloody heap. //I was too late...// Jack thinks, seeing your lifeless, blood-drenched carcass lying upon the deck of the Pearl. Ju’luc has his sword drawn, a malicious glint in his insane eyes, stepping towards your limp body. He’s enraged, and intends to mutilate your fallen flesh. "JU’LUC!!" Jack rages. "YOU BASTARD!!" Ju’luc turns around, his malicious grin changing to a satisfied smirk. He draws his sword, ready to take from Jack what was taken from him...and vice versa. Jack eyes the bloody bite on Ju’luc’s forearm, and Ju’luc answer’s his glare with a smirk. "Nasty li’l thing..." "I’ll cut you into so many pieces that the Devil himself won’t be able to put you back together!!" Jack rushes Ju’luc in a fury rivaled to none, his gold teeth flashing in an angry grimace. The larger man readily takes Jack’s advance, fueled by his own rage of a lost hand...among other abilities... Metal clashes against metal, clanging sharply into the otherwise still ocean night. Ju’luc attempts to run Jack through, his deranged eyes searching for some handicap in which to sink his sword into Jack’s flesh, but Jack jumps out of the way of his thrust, barely missing the razor-sharp edge. His dark eyes display a brilliant flame of rage inside him, pursuing Ju’luc with a power second to none. No one lays harm to one under the protection of a captain and lives to see a new sun. "Your death will be a slow and painful one!" Jack says through gritted teeth, avoiding a well-placed jab. It figures that one of the best swordsmen on the ship had to be a twisted sonuva- "Not before I take both yer hands, and legs, and arms, before -I- kill -ye-!" He rounds about on Jack, landing a punch to the Captain’s jaw before taking one to his own already-battered face. Ju’luc screams out, for once feeling pain inflicted, and swings his sword dangerously at Jack, who matches thrust for thrust. Both are now running on pure, raw rage, trying desperately to incapacitate the other and mutilate their bodies to their given purpose. Both pant hard, adrenaline urging them on, as Jack hears noises and shouts from below his ship: his two men freeing the other members of his crew. For a split second too long, Jack listens to the noises of his crew and has his sword flung from him with one mighty blow from the larger man. He watches as it falls to the ground, and he grabs for it, but is stopped by Ju’luc’s razor-edge at his throat. He stands up to face the larger man like both man and Captain, as Ju’luc steps upon Jack’s blade and kicks it somewhere near your lifeless body, trying to cause some previously-planned corporeal damage. Jack stands stick straight, staring at Ju’luc with all the pride and dignity of a great sea Captain. "Just do it already, you gutless dog." Ju’luc presses his blade into Jack’s neck, drawing blood in almost the exact place that Jack had done only earlier. "Oh no, cap’n. I plan on making ye taste every sting an’ cut ye’ve given to me this day, all on account of that trollop," he motions to your unmoving, crimson form, blood slowly trickling down your pale forehead. "And then some." He forces his blade deeper into Jack’s neck, making him back up with the pain. "You’ll pay for what you’ve done to her," Jack states in fury, staring into Ju’luc’s eyes. "Death will come on swift wings for you." "Harsh words, cap’n," he retorts. The clamor of the crew is heard moments before they make their presence known on deck, as Ju’luc shouts out above the raucous. "Any o’ ye come more outta that hole and I’ll skewer the cap’n ‘ere like a wild pig!!" The men stop, their allegiance to Jack evident as the silence following. "Kill him," Jack orders, but his men are motionless, unwilling to forfeit the life of their captain for the life of this psychotic man. "Looks like I’ve got the control, cap’n. Everyone back under!!" He presses the blade even deeper into Jack, who, much to his shame, hisses at the sensation. Jack’s men reluctantly retreat back into the ship, trying to formulate some plan of action. They’re too far away to rush Ju’luc, and none have good enough aim with a pistol to try and shoot him, and they don’t want to risk shooting Jack in the process. Ju’luc momentarily removes his sword from Jack’s neck, only to replace it on his cheek. He slowly drags the blade over Jack’s taught skin, tan becoming blood in seconds. "One for me neck," he states maliciously. Jacks makes not a peep as his blood is spilt onto his face. Ju’luc puts the blade on Jack’s other cheek, and cuts deeper, trying to make him cry out in pain; something he never does. "Another for me hand." "Spare me your frivolities," Jack says languidly, his face dripping blood, but his words dripping molten fire. "I’m bored." Ju’luc makes a noise in imitation of laughter. "I won’t be done with ye for a bit, cap’n." He put the sword on Jack’s chest next, and swipes it down quickly. He wants to weaken Jack with bleeding before he can start in with his demented torture. "One for me nose-" "And one for me!" you scream at him, plunging Jack’s sword deep into Ju’luc’s gut, past his spine and to the hilt. Ju’luc’s eyes widen as he makes little utterances in response to the sword melded with his flesh, staring into Jack’s apprehension-widened eyes. He sputters a few times, and turns around, back fully to Jack, and sees you staring at him with abused eyes. The look of shock and wrath outlined upon his face turns to one of pain as he views the sword in sticking out of his gut. He makes a grab for you, but with a sickening squelching sound, Jack turns the sword fully in his gut, effectively grinding up Ju’luc’s pain barriers. He screams out for a brief moment, and falls over, silent and dead, as Jack removes his bloody sword from the mutineer’s gut. A dark red pool begins to form beneath Ju’luc’s bloody carcass, flowing freely out of him and onto the deck of The Pearl. There is an eruption of sound as the crew bursts out of the hold of the ship, ready to defend and attack if need still be, but all that is heard by you and Jack is pure silence. You stare at one another, the moonlight illuminating each other’s bloody features. You’re both panting, from either fear, relief, or exhaustion, just staring into one another’s eyes, drinking deeply of each other’s presence. There is a look of disbelief upon Jack’s face, and one of confusion and consternation upon your own. Any and all fire within Jack’s eyes has smoldered into something indiscernible and you can feel deep within you an utter sense of necessity. You drop to you knees, exhaustion made solid, and barely lift your eyes to view the bloody devastation before you...by your own hand. You lift your head and see Jack watching you with apprehension. He sheathes his sword and steps over the body to you, taking you in his arms and holding you close against him. The world of sound comes back to you only in the form of Jack’s voice. "I thought you were dead." "Yes," you utter in quiet shock. "You’re covered in blood." "Quite." A substantially worried look occupies Jack’s face. "Are you alright, (___)?" "Are you?" He shakes off your question, his wounds trivial when you’re dyed crimson. "You’re covered in so much blood..." "Gibbs’ blood. He needs you," you say stolidly. Jack’s eyes waver for a moment, and you are all but bombarded by his crew, who gather round to see Ju’luc’s dead carcass. Jack picks you up from the fray and moves you out of the crowd. You barely register the words Jack shouts above the clamor, catching ‘overboard’, ‘sharks’ meat’ and ‘devil’ as you are taken down the stairs and back to Jack’s cabin. * * * * * CHAPTER 12 - Injuries Unseen
You feel strangely detached from the events of moments before as Jack opens the door of his cabin. You aren’t quite sure what happened when you were out, and you don’t want to know. You don’t know how to feel at the moment, except for all the pain all over your body, and you must have some strange look upon your face, because Jack puts his hand to your cheek and looks at you with worrisome features. "Are you really alright, (___)?" "Yes," you say, not sure whether he’s talking about your physical state, or emotional. Either way, you’re pretty messed up. "You don’t look alright, luv." "I’m fine. Take care of him," you say pointing out Gibbs. Jack looks down upon his audibly snoozing first mate, and squats down to inspect the damage. Much to your satisfaction, his bandages are not leaking blood, but the deeper wound seems to have rather bloodied up it’s bandage. "I tried," you supply, seeing Jack lift it. "You’ve done well. It’s rather clean," he says, examining the extent of the damage. His probing fingers get a little too close to it, and Gibbs flinches, fluttering his eyes and waking up in a stupor. "Blast it girl!" "I’m not a girl, mate." Gibbs looks dumbfounded. "Jack?" "In the flesh." But almost not, you think. "How’re you doing?" Jack asks, looking Gibbs over. He frowns. "Is it...that bad?" "You’re going to need to be cauterized, mate." "Jack...this is hardly the time...nor the pl-" "I said -cauterized-." "Oh." You barely smile at Gibbs’ misunderstanding as the thought of cauterization enters your head. Didn’t that mean burning? "Jack?" "Aye!" he answers quickly, worry writ all over him. "Are...are you really going to..." You don’t want to be a patron of this next event, and have no desire to watch Jack burn a hole in a living man, even if it’s to close Gibbs’ wound. "Aye," he says, glancing at you sideways. "Okay." You slump against the wall of the cabin and slide down to sit at the floor as you absentmindedly watch Jack. He hollers to some men outside for a hot poker, and it’s brought up a little while later, red-orange and glowing. Jack takes it as a man brings in water and a sponge in a wooden bucket. Gibbs views the poker, and looks Jack straight in the eye. "Knock me out, Jack." "I don’t want to injure you more than you are, mate. You should be awake for this." "At least...give me more...rum, Jack." Jack reaches under his bed and pulls out a bottle of the brown liquid, depositing it in Gibbs’ hand. The injured man drains the full bottle in less than a minute, and throws it out the cabin door, where it makes a resounding crash. You’re pretty positive that he’s more than made up for his loss of blood with rum. Jack watches the hot end of the poker as he gives the rum time to have it’s effect on Gibbs. He shifts his attention to you after a moment, yourself mesmerized by the glowing end. Jack doesn’t seem convinced of your state of being, as you can feel his eyes searching your person for some opening point for the blood upon you. "(___)?" You peel your eyes away from the glowing steel and focus on Jack. His white shirt is stained red from the amount of blood still trickling down his neck, and twin cuts adorn his face, creating a sort of mock war paint for his tanned countenance. "Jack, that needs to be taken care of," you say. Gibbs laughs, probably at some drunken interpretation of ‘taking care of Jack’. "I think you’re ready, mate," he says, swishing the glowing metal about, making little eddies in the air with the rising vapor. He wads up a piece of nearby cloth and puts it in Gibbs’ mouth, and calls in two crewmen who position themselves around Gibbs as you watch intently. "Bite down on that for the pain," he says pointedly to Gibbs. "Hold him down. This is going to hurt." The two men get on either end of Gibbs, and hold him hard to the floor as Jack positions himself over the wound. "Hold on, mate." He places a bloodied hand in an arch over Gibbs’ skin and guides the poker so close that Gibbs can feel the heat of it moments before it’s plunged into the open wound. His great outcry is heard through the cloth in his mouth, and he bites down so hard on it that his lips go white. The sickening smell of burnt skin floats through the air, and you clasp a hand to you mouth as you start to feel sick. But as soon as it’s started, the ordeal is over and Jack removes the poker from the now un-bleeding wound. The men still hold Gibbs down, a little too familiar with the process at hand, and Jack works quickly, taking the sponge and water previously given him and cleaning the wound more thoroughly now that it’s closed. He finishes working the marred skin with the water and disinfects it. The throbbing, burning-sensation Gibbs’ is feeling is numbed more and more as Jack expertly cleans it to a state better than before. He murmurs things as he hastily works, and moves on to the second lesser wound. He takes the poker once again, still red-hot and smoking from charred flesh, and you jump up and leave the cabin, the smell of burning human-flesh and rum suddenly giving you the urge to vomit. You rush outside into the cool night air, hearing the crew cleaning up the previous event’s mess, and lean over the edge of the ship, trying to calm that feeling in your throat. You try to concentrate on the deep blue of the ocean, moonlight sparkling off the tread of the waves. You take deep breaths and try to regain control as you hear shuffling of feet coming out of the cabin. The breeze plays with a strand of your hair, making it dance to the melody of the sea in the pale moonlight, and you turn to see men carrying Gibbs out of the cabin in a make-shift stretcher. The breeze brings with it the wafting smells you had runaway from in the cabin, and any control you had regained is shattered as you start to dry-heave over the side of the ship. If the railing wasn’t supporting you, you’d surely be sprawled on deck as this new pain in your throat fights for dominance with the others plaguing your body. Disturbing images float through your throbbing mind, making you feel sicker and sicker, and causing your stomach to heave even more, but nothing comes up. You haven’t eaten all day, and that fact only lends to your current weak condition. You suddenly feel a hand clasp your shoulder and another at your waist, and lift your eyes to see Jack watching you with concern. You feel another heave coming on and lean back over the side of the ship. "It’s alright, luv," Jack says soothingly, rubbing your back. "Calm yourself down. Just concentrate on my voice." You do as he says to the best of your ability. Your hitched breathing becomes more normal, and you let Jack take you into his arms, resting your head upon his chest and breathing in deep his scent. "Everything’s done now. Let’s go back to the cabin." You try, desperately, but your legs won’t work. You’re far too weak, and the throbbing in your head isn’t helping to keep your balance. "I’m sorry...I feel so weak..." "That’s because you haven’t eaten," Jack states, lifting you into his arms. "Among other things." He picks you up and takes you back to the cabin, closing the door with his foot and depositing you on the bed. You sit there, slumped over in your exhaustion, as Jack rummages about. You notice that Gibbs’ blood has been cleaned from the floor. "Here, (___), eat this," he says, holding an apple under your nose. He watches as you take it gingerly in your hands and struggle to break off a piece with your teeth. You’re sore everywhere, and your jaw is no exception. Even though you haven’t eaten all day, you aren’t hungry. You set the apple down in your lap. There are more pressing matters to attend to than your eating, and you hardly feel like it after what you’ve done. "You’re hurt, Jack," you say as the blood still flows down his body. He sits next to you ripping pieces of cloth and dabs at your forehead where he knows fresh blood has been spilt. He seems far more interested in your injuries than his own. "So are you, darling. And your cheek doesn’t look very good either." You stare at the use of the endearment, and take some of the cloth in his own hands, making a wrap-around bandage for his neck while he’s cleaning your cheek. You’re both tending to one another’s injuries. "Lift your head," you say. You apply your bandage with trembling fingers across his taut neck and shiver at just how deep the cut is. You can only imagine how much it had hurt. "Jack, you need supervision." He smiles at your joke, but you can still feel his eyes roaming your body for any source of the blood upon you. You’re in no shape to argue with him, so you answer his gaze flatly. "It’s not mine, Jack. I told you." "I can clearly see that you’re far more injured than you’re telling me, (___)." You can’t be sure whether he’s talking about the blood upon you, or how you’re feeling emotionally. Either way, you don’t feel that great. I’ve just killed someone, you think. You stop your ministrations and focus on Jack. He’s studying you. "I’m very tired, Jack. And really sore, but that’s about it, okay?" "That’s not it." Silence follows as he continues cleaning you up, but he can’t do much with all Gibbs’ blood all over you. "You’ll want to get out of those." Much too tired to care whether this is another one of Jack’s propositions, you nod your head and stare at the apple in your lap. "Do you have a change I could wear, or should I go naked?" you joke with mock seriousness. For a moment, you can see serious Jack melt away back to lusty Jack, but his answer is still situation-oriented, and he nods and gives you some he has on hand. Apparently he anticipated this. You mutter a thank you, and try to get off the bed in order to position yourself in a way in which you’ll have a bit of privacy, but you’re far too weak to do even that. You start to feel frustrated, and the exhaustion and pain you’re still in is getting to you. Tears start to form in your eyes. "Don’t worry about it, luv," Jack says, sensing your plight. "I’ll turn around." He gets off the bed and walks over to his desk, back turned to you, giving you some semblance of privacy. You change as quickly as you can, immensely grateful for the sudden display of chivalrous behavior from Jack. You dispose of your bloodied shirt first, and find that it is partly shredded. You discover lacerations from Ju’luc’s rings on your abdomen, as well as many forming bruises. You didn’t even know you had got them. You try not to look as you pull Jack’s clean shirt on, wiping any excess blood off yourself with the sullied one. The pants put the most exertion on you as you try to stand to pull them on, but find it futile. You end up getting both legs in, and lay back on the bed, pulling them on to the best of your ability. After you get them good and secured, you just lay there with your legs over the side of the bed, not wanting to move. You close your eyes and just bask in the moment of silence. You can hear the peaceful crash of the waves against the ship, and the gentle clinking of glass on glass as the ship moves in time with the ocean, as if none of the night’s events ever happened. You exhale deeply and just lay there, vegging out. "(___)?" You hear the questioning voice of the sea captain, and murmur something unintelligible back to him. You can hear his footsteps momentarily before you feel pressure on the bed beside you. He rests his hand on your thigh, and you’re far too tired to bat it away. "Where else are you injured, (___)?" "Nowhere, Jack," you state. "I can see the gashes, luv." You open your eyes to see his face above yours, smirking at you. "They’re seeping through the shirt." "They’re nothing, Jack. I’m really alright." Although the pain in your muscles and all over your body would suggest otherwise. The cuts on his tan face are still red and, as opposed to yours, they’ve stopped bleeding. "I don’t think so." He lifts your shirt, exposing your belly, before you can do anything about it. Whatever sudden sense of chivalry and propriety that had hit Jack earlier was far gone. He runs sword-rough fingers over your skin, sending little tremors through your exhausted body. He frowns at the cuts and bruises he sees there, and you try to pull your shirt back down, but he easily bats your hands away. "I’ll be surprised if I ever have children..." You see something of a naughty look pass upon Jack’s face, but as soon as you spot it, it’s gone. "Is there anywhere else?" "No," you state indignantly. "This is so undignified..." "I’ll find ‘em myself, luv, if you’re lying." He smirks. Any reason to get your clothes off. "Touch me and you’ll pull back a stump," you spit out ironically, and then realize the taboo of your statement. You remove your eyes from his face and suddenly feel very guilty for everything that’s happened. If not for you being here...and Ju’luc having touched you, then Jack’s friend...What was his name? Corprin? He wouldn’t be dead. Mr. Gibbs wouldn’t be hurt, and neither would Jack. "Sorry..." you mutter for your statement. Jack looks un-phased by your statement, and merely wraps bandages about your waist. "You’ve never killed before." "What?" You’re taken by surprise by the statement. "It was your first kill, wasn’t it?" Jack stops what he’s doing and looks into your eyes with his deep-brown, all-knowing ones. "How can you-?" "I can see it in your eyes." He puts the finishing touches on your bandages and sees you watching him with uncertainty. "Don’t worry about that, luv. He deserved to die..." He dabs your cheek with rum on cloth, making you hiss. "...in a far worse way than was dealt him," he adds through gritted teeth. "You didn’t deserve any of what was given you. Don’t you dare feel bad about what’s happened." You think for a moment about what Jack’s said. You’ve taken a life, and that’s a terrible crime in itself, but he was going to kill Jack if you didn’t, and you didn’t start any of this mess. It was in self-defense. Kill or be killed. Yes, it was his fault, not yours. You didn’t ask to be attacked...be sent here. No, never yours. "...I know..." you say with doubt. "I’m really sorry, Jack." "Don’t be." "But if it wasn’t for me, your...friend..." You bite your lip as you cannot bring yourself to say it. "Corprin’s death is no consequence of yours," Jack says with a stoic expression upon his face. "He was a good man, and it was his time." You turn your head away from Jack, unable to meet his gaze. "Don’t be feeling guilty, luv." He puts a hand gently to your face, and strokes it soothingly. "You need to eat," he says, changing the subject. It seems everytime you want some food, something bad happens, and you’ve conditioned yourself to not want it. "I don’t feel like eating." "Too bad," Jack says with a smirk, and takes your apple out of your lap. He hunts for something under the mattress and pulls out a short curved dagger. Apparently, rum isn’t the only thing Jack hides around his cabin. He starts slicing off pieces of the apple, and gives them to you. You chew them with vapid interest to satisfy his gaze until the apple is reduced to a core. It takes some effort, but you turn over on your side and pull your legs up on the bed. This is the most painful day you’ve ever had, and you wonder if the rest will be the same until you can get home. "You should really eat more ‘til you regain your strength," Jack says interrupting your thoughts. "It hurts to chew," you say in protest. It’s not exactly a lie either. "I have a remedy for that," Jack says, patting your flank and getting up off the bed. You can only guess what he’s got in mind. You don’t even have to turn over to know that he’s in his rum cupboard. The clinking of bottles in his hand are enough for that. He sits back down next to you and you can hear him uncork a bottle. You close your eyes for a moment, and when you reopen them, said bottle is in front of your face. "Drink it down, luv. It’ll fill you up more than any feast can." You try to sit up with much effort, and Jack takes you around the waist and pulls you close to him so that you’re sitting while leaning against him. "You’re in a bad shape, (___). You’re far too weak." You murmur something in response and he gives you the bottle while uncorking the other for himself. You lift yours with unsteady fingers and let the burning liquid pour down your throat in large gulps. You embrace the hot sensation as it feels better than the pain throughout your body, and it seems to fill up more than the hole in your stomach. "Pace yourself, darling. You don’t have to drink it all in one go," Jack states at your chugging. You scoot closer to him on the bed for both comfort contact and support as you drain what’s left of your bottle. You want to get so drunk that you won’t remember any of this when you get home, whenever that’ll be. Jack puts his bottle to his lips and quickly drains the rest a little too expertly. He chucks his bottle on the floor and does the same to yours as he puts an arm tightly about you, mindful of your injuries. You watch as the bottles roll about on the floor and come to a stop at the back of the cabin. "Some birthday, eh?" Jack says halfheartedly. You pull yourself up more so that you’re better enclosed in his arms as he toys with a piece of your hair. You breath deep and inhale his scent, just glad to feel so safe and secure a moment. You rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the pain recede as fatigue takes you over. "...Sorry, Jack." "Don’t be." He rests his cheek on your good one, and you turn your face and kiss him on the nose. He smiles bemusedly. "What was that for?" You half smile and get comfy on his chest as you feel the rum take over. "Happy Birthday, Jack." * * * * * CHAPTER 13 - The Discussion
Your heavy lids close and you have a vague sense of being lain down as you pass into dream-state. You sleep heavily for many hours, slowly waking and turning on your side. You feel around for Jack, but he’s not in the bed with you. You open your eyes and look about the room in a panic, but Jack is nowhere to be found. "Jack?" you call out. It’s hard to speak for some reason, and you touch at your jaw, trying to make it work. You must’ve been more injured than you’d thought. You hear noises outside of the door, and sit up in bed, watching the door. "Jack?" The door slams open and standing there in the brilliant moonlight is your worst nightmare. Ju’luc. "No... it can’t be possible..." A scream dies on your lips as he runs at you with both hands outstretched, bloody and terrible in his charge. You jump off the bed and run to the door, finding it locked. You’re trapped. You turn to face him, finding him staring at you with greedy, murderous eyes. "You’re dead!" you scream at him. He rushes you once more and you scream out, your legs feeling like jelly as you flee. "DEAD!" Tell him that after he’s killed you. a voice taunts in your head. He grabs you by the arm, his touch searing and painful as hot coals. "JAAACK!!" "Wake up, (___)." "Jack!" "Wake up!" You feel yourself being shaken, and open your eyes to see Jack’s concerned face peering back at your own. "Are you alright?" There are tears streaming down your face, and you’re shaking terribly. "J-ack..." your voice cracks as you quickly cling to him, making sure he’s really there. You touch his chest and run your fingers over his jaw, feeling his twin beards, making sure he’s real; feeling Jack. "(___)?" He wraps his arms around you and holds you tight. "Is something wrong?" "I..." you feel more tears welling up in your eyes, and try to blink them away. "It was just a dream...that’s all...Are you alright?" You calm yourself and regain your composure, taking deep, hitched breaths. You feel chilled to your very soul from the realistic quality of your dream, and you’re still shaking. "Are you alright?" he asks again. "I’m okay..." "Must have been some dream, luv." "It was a nightmare..." you say, burying your face in his chest and breath deep his scent, concerned only with feeling safe and protected. "Well you’re safe with Ol’ Jack, so don’t worry." You can hear the concern in his sleepy voice, and move away from his chest to look him in the eyes in the darkness of the room. "He’s really dead, right? I mean, there’s no way he’s still alive?!" The urgency in your voice warrants a concerned frown from Jack. He strokes your face gently and issues you a light kiss upon your lips, sending warmth throughout your body. "Just a dream, (___). That’s all. You’re safe and sound." He pulls you back into his arms and lays back down. "...Jack..." "Aye?" "...I mean, really?" He pats your hair and pulls you ever closer. "I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re under my protection, (___)." You move closer to him and soak up his body heat, wondering at his statement. Was he talking about some code again? Were you under protection of it? "Don’t leave me," you breath desperately. You notice that you’re shaking. Hard. You didn’t even realize it. Jack smiles a thin smile and tucks your head under his chin. "I wouldn’t dream of it." He takes you in his arms and holds you tight, trying to stop your body from trembling so. You’ve started to realize just how much in danger you had been, and it’s scaring you greatly. As of now, Jack is the closest thing to friends or family you’ve got. "Jack?" He nuzzles close to you. "Hm?" "Thanks, Jack." He makes a sleepy noise in response, but he doesn’t sound it. He sounds like he’s waiting for you to go back to sleep. He lightly strokes your back, confirming your thoughts, and you turn your good cheek into his chest. You relax your tense and aching muscles into Jack as your shivers begin to subside, and you fall back into a peaceful sleep. * * * * You wake slowly as you sense the sunlight infiltrating the cabin. Turning on your side, you yawn once and attempt to burrow into the blankets. You stretch, immediately regretting doing so as you feel pain from stiff and aching muscles throughout your body, not to mention various wounds. You rue moving as your head feels heavier than it should, like gravity has a personal vendetta against you or something. You reach out a hand and notice the amount of Jack-free space you have, and that’s when you realize he’s not in the bed. Whether this is a good thing, or a bad thing, you don’t know, but what you do know is that you don’t know where Jack is, and that’s bad. You sit up in bed too quickly, and you reel due to your head. You look about more slowly, and find Jack sitting on his desk, watching you with an amused expression upon his face. "Right here, luv," he says at the panicked look currently occupying your face. You scold yourself inwardly for letting yourself get into such a state, and start to become very aware of the fact that Jack has been and still is watching you....in bed...with one of those looks upon his face... Feeling more than uncomfortable and never liking to be watched in bed, you throw the blankets off you and fling your legs over the side of the bed in too quick a motion for your own good. You try to hide your discomfort under his scrutinizing gaze, and rub at your sleepy eyes. How long had you been sleeping? Or he watching you? "What time is it?" "’bout noon. I tried waking you earlier, but after one’s been kicked and sworn at, one lets sleeping dogs lie." He has that amused, naughty look upon his face again, and you wonder what else he might have gotten away with while you were asleep. You may have been terribly exhausted, and more than a little beat up, but maybe it wasn’t such a good idea for you to share a bed with Jack. The ideas blatantly swimming about his face speak volumes more than you’d ever want to know. "How long have you been up?" "A few hours. How do you feel?" A few hours? That’s unnerving. What has he been doing all this time? "My muscles hurt, my neck is stiff, and I’m full of cuts and bruises. So I’m just dandy, and yourself?" you say almost too pleasantly for sarcasm. You’re feeling rather bitter right now. "Want some breakfast?" he asks, ignoring your sarcasm. You stop for a moment in consideration. Yes. Yes you would like some breakfast. As a matter of fact, you would love some breakfast. "Alright," you say nonchalantly. Truth of the matter is, after having only consumed rum and an apple in more than twenty-four hours, you’re so hungry you could eat at Arby’s. Jack gives you a knowing look and jumps off the desk, sauntering towards the door, and steps outside for a moment, much to your dislike, and comes back in moments later. "Mr. Cotton’ll bring you up something good. I’ve already eaten." "Oh." You wonder for a moment if by eat he means drink, and by drink he means rum. "How’s Mr. Gibbs?" "Better than he was. He’ll be bedded for some time, but that’s to be expected." You nod in agreement with him as he searches for one of his many bottles of rum, and start to wonder what percentage of his blood is pure alcohol. He lifts the bottle to drink and takes his seat in his desk chair as you run a hand through your hair. It’s in a terrible state, and you can feel dried blood matted in it near a very painful place to touch. That must’ve been where the headache came from, you think. Just how hard had you been thrown last night? And how long had you been out? I hope I don’t have a concussion. You check your cheek as well, feeling it to be sore, but other than that, it seems to be healing from last night’s ordeal. There’s no new blood at least, and you hope it’s not infected. You run a hand under your shirt and onto your belly at the same time as Jack decides to deviate from his boozing and watch you again. It seems to be a favourite pastime of his. He gives you a naughty look that’s begging your shirt to leave it’s post, and you remove your hand from it’s ministrations. You can always check those cuts later...like once he stops staring at you... or, parts of you anyway. "Yes, Jack?" you address his staring with an annoyed tone. "Are you alright?" he asks unconvincingly. You’re so sure he was thinking about your state of well-being. "I could use a bath," you say, running a hand through dirty hair, "but other than that, Captain Sparrow, I think I’ll be fine." Jack looks pensive for a moment and scratches his chin. Lord knows you’ve just given him a whole new range of naughty thoughts. Whatever he’s thinking, you don’t want to know. "I think that could be arranged..." he says, trailing off. "Hm?" Now you’re interested. You’d kill for a hot bath...in a manner of speaking. "I’ll have my lads think something up. You look like you’d like a bath." "And what is that supposed to mean?" you ask accusingly. You know that you can’t look that great at the moment, but he didn’t need to say it. You’ve got dried blood in more than a few places your body, and you feel terribly dirty inside and out. And you bet you’ve got countless bruises on your face, among other places. And right now, you’d rather not have Jack looking at you like that. "I didn’t mean nothing by it, (___). You suggested it, afterall." He gives you a cheeky grin, and you just know he thinks that he’s going to play some part in your bathing. Well, not if you can help it, and help it you will. There’s a knock at Jack’s cabin door, and Jack gets up to answer it as you scoot away from it. At the moment, you’re wary of his crew. He takes a brown plate and has a word with his ‘Mr. Cotton’ and comes back inside. "Here ye are, luv," Jack says upon closing the door, setting a large plate on the bed next to you and sitting down opposite. You sit cross-legged across from Jack and survey the plate: meat, potatoes, apple, something that resembles green vegetables...and everything’s smothered in a thick gravy. Even the apple. It more or less looks like dinner than breakfast. "It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re thinking." "Oh, no. I know," you tell him quickly. But do you know? What if someone else in the crew has it in for you. Okay, now you’re being paranoid. Jack picks up something from the plate (the fact that you don’t know what it is disturbing), as if proving his point, and puts it in his mouth, swallowing satisfactorily. You do the same, and put the nondescript food in your mouth, finding it to taste much better than it looks. Jack makes a pleased noise and gets up, looking for another bottle of rum, and upon finding it, sits against the wall on the bed. "Here you go, to wash it down," he says, giving you your own bottle. "Don’t you ever drink anything other than rum, Jack?" He gives you a bewildered expression as he seems to sway about even while sitting. "Surely you’re not serious?" "You really are a rummy," you say, swallowing another mouthful of food ravenously. Nothing else ever tasted so good. "You don’t understand rum’s charm, luv." "I’d prefer water to rum, Jack. I think you’re an alcoholic. You need the twelve step program," you chuckle to yourself at his confused, but obviously insulted, look. "Water?!" "Water." "Just plain water?!" "Delicious h2o." Jack looks horrified, but you just grin as you feel yourself getting pleasantly full. You nibble on the apple, having cleaned it of gravy, and leave the plate be as Jack still stares at you with something of bewilderment and shock upon his face. You’ve left him speechless. You grin as you play with the rum bottle he handed you, none too eager to have a burning throat this early. He takes a few silent swigs from his bottle, that confused look still in his eyes. After awhile of silence in which Jack was thinking, he puts his bottle in his lap, looks you straight in the eye with the utmost seriousness and a look of puzzlement on his face. He takes a deep breath, and you give him all of your attention, expecting something deep, profound, and very serious from Jack. He seems to have been thinking a little too much for something as trivial as rum. But then, of course, he opens his mouth, to which you burst out laughing. "Are you really serious?" * * * * * CHAPTER 14 - Barrels of Fun
Jack’s combined seriousness with the expression upon his face keeps you laughing for a good couple of minutes, and it isn’t until he gets bored of your laughing and returns to his drink that your giggles subside. "You’ve a problem, luv." "Me?!" you spout out, shocked by his sudden accusation. Aha! How the tables have turned. "Yes," he says assuredly, corking his bottle. "You have a rum deficiency." "Deficiency?!" "Yes." "You have a drinking problem." "It’s not a problem." "When someone drinks their weight in rum, it’s a problem." Jack snorts at your statement and slides off the bed, looking to give you a lecture on the importance of rum. One thing’s for sure, he does drink an awful lot of it. "I don’t think you quite grasp the significance of rum in a man’s life," he starts out. "Jack, you probably spend more on rum in a week than others do in a lifetime," you say. And you know you’re probably right, too. "I don’t buy rum, (___)." "I’m sure you don’t. Does the rum pixie come along and leave it under your pillow, then, Jack?" you sport. "Pirate, darling," he says, a great smirk upon his face, obviously proud of what he is. "Oh. Right." You’d forgotten that bit of information. But how could I forget that? That’s like...something momentous to forget! You don’t just forget things like that! "So, did you become a pirate because you couldn’t pay for all your boozing, or did your boozing make you become a rum-pirate?" you ask with a smirk. "Rum has nothing to do with that." "Oh really now?" "So as I was saying," he starts, ignoring your inquiry, "Rum, the very greatest drink of any drinks anywhere-" "Very eloquent, Jack." "Don’t interrupt," he says, wagging a finger at you. You grin and listen with an amused expression on your face as he sways about the room, giving his oration. Does he like his rum that much? "...it’s the sweetest honey of life! The body does not drink of it, but the very soul! The gods themselves ordained..." You stop listening as let your eyes roam. His tanned skin...brown eyes...beaded hair...lean body... You decide that he’s rather pleasant to look at and handsome with his roguish features. And despite all his boozing, and of course, his never-ceasing propositioning, he’s been very good to you. You decide that you downright like this captain. Well, enough for the time you’ve known him, anyway. He turns suddenly, waving his arms about passionately, making some great point at which you still aren’t listening, and you notice just how good his butt looks in those pants...just one of the things that looks good in those pants... God, if -my- butt looks that good in his pants, then I don’t blame him for all his staring. He’s still sauntering back and forth, the hypnotic sway of his hips keeping you riveted, and he suddenly stops mid-sentence, looking you in the eyes. "Have you been listening to a word I’ve said?" You blink a few times, thoroughly flustered, color rising in your cheeks, and hope to some higher power that he doesn’t realize where and at what you’ve been staring. Unfortunately, the sudden grin spreading across his face tells you otherwise. He opens his mouth to say something most likely smart-assed, exposing gold teeth. But like a godsend, there’s a knock at the door and Jack bids whoever it is enter. You jump off the bed, unwilling to give any other men on this ship any ideas. Jack’s propositioning, among other, more terrible things, is more than enough for you. The door opens and a burly man with dark hair steps in, giving you cause for alarm, and you move yourself behind Jack, regardless of your previous behavior. He grins and reaches a hand behind him, which you willingly take. He gives it a squeeze as his men bring in a big oak barrel and set it in the middle of the floor. "The men will bring up the water in a moment, Captain," the man says with a deep voice. Jack nods and pulls you out in front of him as you attempt to smack him. "This is Mr. Roberts, (___)," he says, clasping his hands ontop of your shoulders as you fidget. The man looks at you with amusement, and smiles, his whole face becoming as friendly as anyone could ask for. At this moment, you feel more likely to die of embarrassment than any other harm that could befall you. He doesn’t look too bad... Roberts smiles warmly and extends a large hand for you to shake. You take it reluctantly, and are surprised of how gentle the touch is. "Miss." You blush from embarrassment and also his good manners, and begin to doubt yourself and your fear of everyone on this vessel. One bad apple in the bunch doesn’t mean they’re all rotten. Jack sees your blush and snatches you against his body in a display of male territoriality. You grin, despite yourself, as he wraps his arms around you. Apparently, he thinks you belong to him, and at the moment, that prospect doesn’t seem so bad. Having a decidedly handsome man wrap his arms about you doesn’t seem like such a bad idea. Jack dismisses Mr. Roberts and you watch with amusement as he leaves. Maybe things won’t turn out so terrible. Jack takes a look in the barrel and inhales deeply. He then reaches over his desk and finds a mug from another of his many hiding places, and reaches deep into the barrel, tipping it slightly as you hear a small splashing sound. You watch with curiosity at his actions as he pulls the mug back out and drinks of it’s contents. You lift an eyebrow in question, and Jack grins, offering you the mug. "Rum barrel, (___)." "Rum barrel?!" Of all barrels in the world brought up, they had to bring up a rum barrel. And you’re to bathe in it. "I told you, (___), you cannot escape rum. She’s a determined mistress, and she won’t leave you alone until you welcome her with open arms." He gives you the mug, to which you defiantly glare. "I don’t think I need a mistress, Jack." "Okay, then darling. If you’re too scared..." He moves to take the mug from you, but you won’t let him have it. "Too scared?!" you spit back, rising to the bait. "Well, yes." "I’ll show you scared, Jack Sparrow." You turn your back to him so he can’t get to the mug, and you drain it in one gulp, welcoming the burning as a sort of triumph over Jack. You don’t care if you hate the stuff, or even if he had wanted you to do it in the first place. You’re not going to let him have a victory over you. "Ha!" You can feel him behind you, and he wraps his arms about you as you’re feeling cocky over your small victory. You turn your head and hand him the mug with a triumphant smirk upon your face. He chucks it somewhere where you hear a resounding thud. And then you notice Jack’s hot breath on your neck and his hands roaming your body, ever mindful of where you’re wounded. His hands criss-cross over your torso and he bestows upon your neck light, hot kisses, sending warming thrills throughout your body to match your current feeling of success. His fingers are so gentle running over your curves, and yet you can feel the lust radiating off of them hotter than any fire. You aren’t sure whether you want him to stop, or if you should beg him for more. "Jack..." you plead, either for him to cease what he’s doing, or to increase his ministrations. At the moment you can’t decide which. "Like that, do you?" he asks huskily. Why yes. Yes you do. But that’s beyond the point. "The door’s open," you breathe as you wiggle in his grasp. Someone could walk right in, and you really don’t want anyone aboard this ship thinking you’re a party favor, including Jack. He doesn’t stop, however, and takes what you’ve pointed out as your inquest for privacy. He nudges the door closed with his foot and moves you towards the bed. So much for trying. He turns you around to face him, and brings you close against his body. Your heart is racing in your chest, and you know your face is betraying how much you’re enjoying this even though you’d like it to stop...or at least, you think you do... You put your forearms against his chest, bringing some minor space between you, your fingers lightly touching the base of his neck. He leans into your touch and you let your arms snake about his neck, pulling his face down close to yours. He winces slightly, but leans down to kiss you, and you remember how deeply cut his neck is. Before you can protest that you’re both too injured, he’s captured your lips in a kiss which makes your knees grow weak and all your previous protests vanish. He knows the effect he’s having upon you, and smirks against you as he lowers you onto the bed. Alarms go off in your head, and if you at all value your virtue, you’ve got to have him stop... and right now, reason is losing to pleasure. "Jack...no, we...you...I..." Right now, your goal is not being coherent, but getting him off. Off -of you-, of course. "Ja-" before you can finish, he claims your mouth once more in a deep kiss, causing you to almost purr at the sensation. He tastes of rum, among other things, and you suddenly realize what he meant by it’s sweetness and persistence. You don’t care anymore about whatever it was you’d thought before, and you abandon all reason to pleasure and pull him down to you on the bed. What did you care anyway? Jack sure didn’t care. What were your cares? Well, whatever they were, they’re long gone and aren’t coming back. Jack breaks off your kiss to bury his face in your neck, bestowing all sorts of pleasure upon the sensitive skin there. Your hands snake up his sides and explore his taut back, playing with all the little ridges of muscle as he moves, caressing your skin with his lips. You can feel his lust against you, and wish to further the sensation, pulling him hard against your body. And then, as if on some deadly, horrible cue, there’s a knock at the cabin door. Jack cranes his head towards it and you pull him back to you. "Ignore it," you breathe as he turns his attention back to you with a smirk and claims your lips once more, entangling his fingers in your hair. He’s obviously proud of the effect he’s having on you, and you want more. There’s another knock at the door. "Captain?" You hear the voice of Roberts and catch sight of the oak barrel, and reason floods back to you as you remember that you were going to have a bath. And also how dirty you are, covered in dried blood and whatnot. Why on Earth was Jack all over you if you were so filthy? Other than the fact that he was a sexually frustrated pirate himself filled up with more rum than you could fill a bathtub, and that you were more than willing to remedy that fact? "Captain?" his voice comes again, sounding a little worried. "Is everything all right in there, Sir?" Jack chuckles against you. And you can guess why. Everything is alright in here indeed, as far as he considers it. He ignores the voice, as you yourself instructed him to do so, and is still going about laying kisses upon you, which you really have no objections to. "Jack?" you say still breathy, currently more or less in control of your raging hormones. You can’t decide what course of action to take. "Hm?" "Jack?!" Roberts voice comes through the door, pointing out what you were about to anyway; that the men are ready with the water. He sounds a little frantic, and then you remember that he doesn’t know you, you don’t know him, and that all the crew in itself knows is that you killed one of them last night. And that there was a lot of blood. For all they know, you’re dangerous. Ha. For all you know, he’s scared for Jack’s safety, not that Jack can’t handle himself. But his concern is touching, just the same. It’s good to know that Jack has loyal men on his ship, but that’s hardly your concern at the moment. You grin and take a sudden sharp intake of breath as you feel Jack’s hands on the bare skin of your back. "You should say something to him-" you state as he lays claim to your mouth once more. You pull him hard against you, wanting to feel him all over. Whatever arguments that had come back to you flies right out the window with that little thing called reason. There’s a sudden bang on the door and Roberts bursts in, followed by a man with a colorful parrot on his shoulder which is shrieking "hoist the sails! hoist the sails!" You freeze with Jack atop you and make no attempt to move. You can feel your face flushing a deep red, as are those of both men standing gaping at you. They expected a fight or hostage situation, but not this. What a picture you must look. The one with the parrot quickly saves face by exiting the room and you can hear the parrot squawking "drop anchors!" loudly. You wonder just what it means and how many people are right outside. Roberts is still gaping at you, or better, Jack, with a judgmental look upon his face. You try to shrink away, hiding under Jack, but really, it’s no use. Roberts is boring a hole right into Jack’s being. "Honestly, Jack." Jack looks at your face and grins widely, causing you to blush an even deeper red at the thoughts of what you were doing, and then back at Roberts. "You have terrible timing, mate." "I’ll give you a minute," he says, retreating from the room and closing the door. "One minute!" Jack looks back at you and you cannot meet his eyes, thoroughly embarrassed. If the crew didn’t think you two were shagging like bunnies before, they would now. Not a very good impression for only your second day on the ship... Jack looks at you with a mixture of amusement upon his face tinged with un-sated lust. "Well that was interesting." You burst out laughing at his statement, more or less from relief than anything. As far as you’re concerned, you still have your virtue and morals intact, so everything’s turned out alright even in the face of a little fun. Or a very aroused piece of pirate atop you. He joins in your laughter, and you issue him a light kiss on the cheek, minding his cuts. "I don’t think he was kidding about one minute, Jack," you say, trying to push him off you. He’s heavier than he looks. "You can do a lot in a minute, luv," he says leaning back down over you and kissing your neck. You grin at his statement, but still push at him, and he gets off of you and sits on the bed, pulling you up with him and into his arms. You probably shouldn’t be letting him touch you so much, but after what you two were just doing, or even -about- to do, such a thing seems kind of petty. You hear a knock once on the door, and Roberts opens it up and strides in carrying a large pail of water. He gives Jack a look which screams ‘that’s what I thought’ and pours the water into the barrel. You avert your eyes, still blushing, as a few more men come in and pour varying degrees of water into the barrel until you can see steam rising out of it. Roberts pours the last bucket in and announces it to be so, and leaves the room. But not before giving Jack a scolding look, and you one that tells you to ‘watch out for that one’. You grin and make to stand up, but are hindered by Jack’s grasp. "So eager to leave Ol’ Jack?" You crane your neck up to see a toothy grin. "I’d like to get in before the water gets cold, Jack." "Oh! Then by all means!" He lets you go and you get off the bed, turning and seeing him positioning himself into a more comfortable position as you glare. "Something wrong?" "Out, Jack." "Now what fun is that?!" "I’m not about to bathe with you watching me," you say, praying he’ll leave his own quarters. You have no control on this ship, but you’re hoping, nay, praying, that he’ll do as you say. Regardless of what you were doing with him before, being completely naked is different...not as if it would be your first time naked in his presence... Dammit. "What are you so afraid of? I don’t bite," he says with a smirk. Yeah, sure he doesn’t. "Leave Jack. I’m...I’m shy," you say believingly. Whether it’s true or not, he never needs to know. "But..." "It’s not very polite, Jack." You see he’s about to interrupt, and you interject. "Not even for a pirate." He looks about as if contemplating your statement, and gets up off the bed, looking defeated. "Alright, then. I’ll just stand guard outside then, eh?" "Go and do captain things or whatever. You’ve been neglecting your duties since I’ve gotten here." "Oh, there are others who take care of things for me on routine trips like this," he says, scratching his beard with a naughty expression. "Well, go out there and remind them who is Captain!" He smirks at you and walks out the door. "Are you sure you don’t need any help?" "Positive." You shut the door on his suggestive face and lock it. You aren’t taking any chances with him. If he wanted you in the same way he did just a little bit ago, you aren’t sure you would be able to fend him off. Or -he- fend -you- off... You wait a moment and peer into your makeshift bathtub. It’s filled halfway, allowing for adequate water displacement, and you quickly strip and climb in, finding the water to be pleasantly tepid. You relax into the water’s pleasant caress, uncaring of the fact that a percentage of it is rum. You’ll have a very interesting perfume when your bath is done. * * * * * CHAPTER 15 - A Deeper Disarming
You slowly sink under the warm water and let it fully envelop your being, trying to concentrate upon it and not upon how good it felt to be so close to Jack. There is the most calming, utter silence as you’re submersed in the rum scented water from the tip of your toes to your scalp, and you find the serenity a helpful distraction for what ails you. You run your fingers through your hair and massage the dried blood out of it, diffusing it into the water, and you start feeling much cleaner already. The heat of the water itself is massaging away your tense and stiff muscles, and you feel yourself completely winding down as you resurface the water, totally relaxed. You wash yourself as best you can without the proper toiletries, surveying the ugly bruising on your stomach coupled with the ring lacerations. Rubbing your hand over the cuts, you feel a sudden sting, throbbing once and diminishing. You’ve minorly opened them, and the rum in the water is lightly disinfecting them. Well, there’s one good side-effect to such a reeking bath... You put your face in your hands as you consider Jack. Oh the impression you’ve just given him...and he you. You’ve probably just given him expectations and perceptions of you, and you didn’t want him thinking you were easy or just some slut. And afterall, you haven’t even known him for two days. What does that say about you to him? Even though he is handsome, and a ship’s Captain... Pirate! you think. -Pirate- Captain! You keep trying to ingrain into your head morals and values and whatnot, and why you shouldn’t be so lax with Jack, but when he touches you, all those thoughts vanish...And did you really miss them anyway? Or want them? You wring out your hair in resignation and let it fall over the side of the barrel, out of the way of the water. You look about as you consider the fact that you forgot about towels. And there is no way you’re going to call Jack in to fetch you some. There isn’t anything that looks like it would make an adequate towel, and you see nothing of the sort on Jack’s desk. But what you do see is a short dagger. It’s the same dagger Jack had used to cut your apple with last night. You take it in your hands, contemplating the chances of having to use it, and hear a startling knock at the door, followed by Jack’s voice. "Everything alright in there, luv?" So much for your moment of sanctuary. "Yes!" you shout out, dropping the dagger to the bottom of the barrel. "Need any help?" You know what kind of help he’d like to give you...or at least the kind you’d like to receive... "No!" Regardless of your dismissal, you hear the doorknob rattle, but it remains closed, and you bless yourself for locking it. But then, of course, there’s the undeniable sound of metal clinking as Jack unlocks the door with his keys. How stupid! Of course he’d have keys to his own cabin! You duck down as low as possible into the water and flatten yourself against the wood of the barrel as Jack pokes his head in the room. Can he not leave you alone for ten minutes? "Jack!" "I just remembered that you might want towels." He grins a saucy grin, and you can still see the naughty look upon his face. You know he didn’t come in here for towels. "Well as a matter of fact, I don’t!" you say, feeling thoroughly helpless in your current state of nakedness. You may have been concerned about towels before, but not now. God bless for the water being so murky, otherwise Jack might be able to get a rather nice view of your bare backside. "Plan on wearin’ your starkies today?" The smirk on his face is more than suggestive as he closes the door and advances further in, and you press yourself closer to the barrel, reluctant to give him a free peep show. "As a matter of fact, I would like some towels." He grins and saunters over to his desk as you move in position about the barrel. His desk just seems to have everything, doesn’t it? He rummages around and finds you a roll of cloth, deliberately sticking it on the desk and moving back towards the bed, sitting down and watching you. "Is there anything else?" you say to his inquiring look. He cocks his head at you, and you can guess that he’s coming up with some type of naughty request...that you probably wouldn’t mind carrying out... No no no! Don’t think about that... "Nevermind. Turn around, Jack." "What for?" "Turn around so I can get out. I’m not about flashing my duds to you, Captain." He grins showing you gold teeth, and considers you for a moment. "So modest all of a sudden. Ye should flaunt your goods, darling." "If you had it your way, I’d be walking around this ship in nothing at all," you say defiantly, and regret saying so as it adds even more ideas to that dirty mind of his. "I would not," he says, a cheeky grin on his face. "If I had it my way, you wouldn’t leave this bed." If the temperature of the water coupled with his remarks weren’t making you hot and flustered before, then this was starting to really do it. "Just turn around, Captain Sparrow. And no peeking!" He raises his hands in surrender and gets off the bed, back turned. You test first, making a noise similar to one of rising out of the water, but he doesn’t even turn, much to your surprise. At that, you quickly raise yourself, covering your girls, and grab the material, ducking quickly back beneath the water, and still nothing. "Need a little assistance, (___)?" "I’m fine. Just don’t move." You stand up and quickly wrap the material around you, finding it to just barely fit your wet form. You make a move to get out of the barrel when you step on the handle of the dagger at the bottom, glad it wasn’t the blade. You quickly reach down and grab it, holding it to the side of the wood so that Jack wouldn’t know you were messing with it. You make a swishy noise in the water at the exact moment Jack decides to turn around, and you feel your face flush as he watches you with a hungry look. The cloth doesn’t cover you as well as you would have liked, but it seems just fine to Jack’s standards. "Staring isn’t polite, Jack." He looks you up and down, more at some places than others, and walks over to you, still standing in a few feet of water, barely covered, and he fingers a piece of wet hair. "You look nice all cleaned up." You blush but don’t meet his eyes. "Turn back around, Jack. I‘m not going to climb out with you gaping at me." He slowly slinks his hands over your waist, and pulls you close to him despite the barrel. "What fun is that?" You’re too close to him for rational thinking, and too naked for not. "Jack," you say with a warning tone. You’re still holding the dagger with your fingers against the side, and should you need to, you can always threaten him. It may be an empty threat, but it still carries the same weight... "(___)," he purrs in your ear, and you can feel roaming hands moments before his lips on your neck, and then your mouth. You try to ignore it, but how can one ignore such a kiss? You move your hands slowly outside the barrel and down his waist, stopping below his crotch on his thigh. He leans into your touch, thoroughly enjoying it, and then stops his own ministrations as he feels the tip of his dagger against his most prized possession. "Jack, I would very much like to get out of this barrel now," you say with a stern tone, but a smile on your face. He looks down at you with an alarmed look upon his face as you stroke his thigh with the dagger’s end in an almost teasing way. -You’ve- got -him- now, not the other way around. "Easy on the goods, darling. You don’t know what you’re doing." "I think I do," you say with an almost innocent quality. "I do have some skills with knives." Well, it’s not a total lie. You did...kill someone... Jack doesn’t seem quite as worried as he should with his manhood in jeopardy. "I don’t think you want to go robbing a pirate, darling." Where does he get the...gall...to make jokes right now? "I wouldn’t rob you of anything...much." Jack looks thoroughly offended by this statement, and you grin at your own little joke. But then he grins back, and starts moving his hands back along your spine and back. The sensation is wonderful, and he does possess two experienced hands, but you push the dagger a little more into Jack’s...thigh...and try to get him to stop...making you think such randy thoughts. Almost too fast for you to realize what is happening, you’re disarmed as Jack grabs your hands, throws the dagger into the wall where it sticks hard, plucks you out of the barrel, and throws, or more like pins, you to the bed. You’re breathing hard in awe and shock of what Jack has just done, and at how easily your weapon was taken. Jack is leaning over you on the bed, a leg on each side and a wrist for each hand. You don’t even struggle, still feeling the mixed moment. You watch each other, and you can see in Jack’s eyes triumph, amusement, lust, and something much deeper that you cannot place, but have a desire to know. You move your wrists slightly, and before you know what’s happening, Jack releases you and takes your face in his hands, kissing you in such a way as you’ve never had before. It’s deep and promising and fills you with such sensations as you’ve never felt. He holds you tightly, and breaks the kiss, leaving you breathless, as well as speechless. How does one put into words what this divine feeling felt of? He puts his forehead to yours and smiles. "You’re far too easily disarmed." You try to say something, but cannot find the proper words. He grins cheekily, the seriousness of the moment gone and something playful in his eyes. "Let’s try that again. Without knives." |