Ficlet: Passion
Title: Passion/Part Seven of the Enigma Series
Author: celticbard76
Word Count: 700
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Beckett and an unnamed female character.
Disclaimer: I claim no ownership of Pirates of the Caribbean.
Author’s Note: I would like to thank everyone who has been following this series and those who have commented. Thanks for your support. I hope you enjoy!
When she came in from the streets on Saturday night, he noticed something different in her eyes, something terrifying. She was breathing heavy, panting and her hair had come undone, resting like a black storm cloud on her shoulders. The shadow of it fell over her face and she looked young, virginal, but not innocent.
“It’s done, my lord.”
A shiver. He could not help it. Her voice sounded high, excited, so very unlike her. She stared at him expectantly and he shifted in his chair by the fire. The parlor was cold still, the powder-blue walls looking ashy in the gray evening light.
“It’s done, my lord, I’ve done it for you, just as you asked. Are you pleased now, my lord? Have I pleased you?”
She wasn’t cowering before him and their was an unnatural blush on her cheeks. He felt small and pale where he sat…and dangerously exposed.
Beckett forced himself to meet her haunted gaze. She quivered where she stood and her discipline became a living thing to be trampled during a moment of wild abandon. He was anxious, oh so very anxious and he stood, one hand raised to placate her.
“Yes, very. That will be quite enough for now, though. Yes, quite enough, I think.”
Her disappointment was frighteningly clear. She drew together her lips and a tight frown made her face fierce. “But, my lord-”
“Out.” Beckett would not suffer disobedience. He took a threatening step forward, expecting her to cringe and fall back, continuing their torturous minuet of dominance and obedience.
But she hesitated and in that precious moment, he knew she would not obey. He felt her on him before he saw her, her all too nimble hands wandering to indecent places.
“My lord,” she growled and he was smothered by a frostbitten kiss. Beckett struggled against her, feeling her arms slither about his neck and tighten. She wanted to be near him, too near. Disgust welled within him like bile.
“Stop this,” he said, but she forced his mouth open with her tongue.
Something cold settled in his chest, something suffocating. She drew away from him for an instant and he saw her as a succubus, an unearthly thing fueled by entirely earthly desires.
And for a moment, one brief moment, he could not resist. She was trying to shred his garments, it seemed, and impatient, she clutched at his face. Blood welled underneath her nails.
The darkness swallowed him as she kissed him again. He strained to breathe, but could only press his mouth against hers.
“My lord,” she whispered, “Cutler…”
But it was over then, when he realized the power he had lost over her. His control had slipped.
“Pig.”
She was on the floor, in a heap, watching him with surprised eyes.
“Disgusting pig.” He stepped over her with a snarl and sat back down in his chair, feeling restored, a king returned to his throne. “You’re naught but a disgusting pig, an animal.”
“Pig?” She was furious. “So I’m a pig, am I? I’ve had enough.”
She fled and the door jerked on it’s hinges, shattering the perfect stillness. Her shadow passed by the window and he imagined her pounding wildly through the streets, demented as she always was when enraged, her keening voice calling to spirits and ghosts.
He shut his eyes and let his own fury explode within him. She had dared, oh she had dared…
Cutler.
His name, used freely, falling from her lips like a golden drop of ambrosia and he was parched with thirst.
Cutler.
And his heart was throbbing, bringing him to his feet and sending him dashing out the door. He ran into the streets and called for her, but his cries were echoed back as laughter.
Far away he heard her and her footsteps pattered against the greasy cobblestones. She was gone now, behind some fairy veil he could not part. Beckett turned back into his tomb of a house, but not before her voice reached him over the mist.
“Cutler.”