(Fic) Monsoon, Ch.2

[sage_laurel]

Title: Monsoon, Chapter 2
Author: sage_laurel
Rating:  NC/17
Pairings: Jack/Elizabeth
Warnings: DMC spoilers.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the smut in my brain.
Summary:  It all begins, in rain and lightning... Takes place post-AWE. Prequel to Bloodletting and Tryst.
Author's Notes: Thanks again to the lovely 
PirateMistress  and
Jacksmermaid for the help and for inspiring even more smut! Concrit and comments greatly appreciated. I am having formatting issues, so apologies if the font size is annoying or the indents are distracting. I am working to correct it.

Monsoon - Chapter 2

Jack's cabin was dark and still. Elizabeth perked her ears, listening to hear if Jack was awake. Hearing nothing, she crept blind as a mole across the cabin in the direction of where she believed the bed to have been. Banging her shin on the edge of something solid, she swore a mild oath under her breath and reached out, feeling along the wall, looking for the edge of the bunk's bedpost. When her hand made contact with something tall and cylindrical, she stood silent and still to let her eyes adjust.

Just then, the cabin was flooded with light from the storm hovering just above the bay, and Elizabeth could see the bed, and a vague lump under the sheet topped with snakes of black hair. Once the light faded she could barely register his form under the sheet, only dark tangled hair spilled out over the pale pillow. There was no sound of snoring, only soft breathing.

Lightning flashed again; for a split second the room was alight and she saw Jack's bare tattoo-marked arm thrown across the mattress.T The sight of his naked skin sent a shudder through her.

As quietly as she could, Elizabeth reached through the darkness, feeling her way around the bed. She stood at the bedside, trying to work up the courage to sit on Jack's bed, when Jack's prone arm shot up and grabbed her by the wrist. She gasped and tried to jump back, but his grip held her fast.

"Get lost, Elizabeth?" Jack's voice was low and raspy from drink and sleep, "Or are you planning on smothering me to death in my bed?"

Now, how did he know it was me, in the dark? "Jack...I'm...I wanted to talk to you." Elizabeth found she didn't feel quite as bold as she'd thought.

"Did you now?" Jack released her arm. "You're happy to see me, then? You're not the least bit disappointed that you didn't kill me more thoroughly?"

Elizabeth felt tears threatening at the tone of his voice - both hurt and bitterness combined. She'd not been so foolish as to expect no hard feelings, but she was unprepared to be confronted with her actions so bluntly. "I had to do it, Jack. You know I did. There was no other way."

"Aye. The beastie had a taste for me, true enough. Though I never expected it would've been you who'd offered me up on a silver platter, as it were."

"The crew...you're everything to them, Jack, despite the Code. They'd have never left you on their own."

"No, likely not. That’s called loyalty, Elizabeth.” Jack’s face was swallowed by inky darkness, but Elizabeth imagined she could see the hard set of his eyes.

"Well, Jack, that loyalty would likely have gotten many men killed, and myself included. How many lives is yours worth?"

"Quite a few, according to Davy Jones."

Elizabeth did begin to cry a little then, and she was angry at herself for ever opening his door, ever thinking that he might forgive her and welcome her into his arms. She felt anger and frustration causing her chest to tighten, in spite of the aching chill in her body. She was in near pain from need - needing to know he was alright, that he didn't hate her, and sheer need of contact- but she couldn't stand to be berated.

"I should have never come in here. If you won't even listen...won't even let me..."  Elizabeth began to stand up, wiping at her tears, but Jack's hand clasped her arm again.

"Enough of that. What's done is done, and talking won't take nothing back." Jack spoke firmly. He ran his hand up her arm, feeling the soaked linen of her shift. "Bloody hell, girl. You're soaked to the bone." His voice softened, the hard edges rounding off.

"It’s raining, Jack."

"Aye. Its monsoon season, after all. I suspect we'll be seeing our fair share of rain here."  His voice was heavy with fatigue and something else, completely devoid of teasing or pretense. She heard the bed creak as Jack moved, and Elizabeth jumped as he pressed fabric into her hand.

"Put this on, lest you catch the ague." She lifted the fabric to her face in the darkness, and even without the benefit of light she could tell it was Jack's shirt. It smelt warm and musky; of saltwater and the scent of something mysterious that was unique to him. She was thankful for the darkness so he couldn't see her inhaling deeply as she held the shirt to her face. His scent soothed her, albeit only a bit.

Clasping the shirt to her breast, she stepped further back into the dark recess of the room to pull her sodden gown off her chilled form. She didn't comprehend until she was slipping into the shirt that she had just been momentarily naked in Jack Sparrow's presence. The thought made the fire between her legs grow and her boldness with it, and in a second she had returned to Jack's bedside. Without asking for permission, she threw aside the sheet and climbed in next to him.

Elizabeth heard the sharp intake of Jack's breath as she slipped her body down alongside his, facing away from him. She could feel Jack's radiating warmth against her back, though he did not touch her. He let out a ragged sigh, and she felt his hand lay lightly on her shoulder. "Elizabeth, are you quite sure you want to be doing this...?”

"I'm so cold, Jack. Please, let me stay," she whispered, shuddering at the thought of being turned out back into the rain and spending another night alone, her body aching for something she could not give it. Jack sighed again and she felt him move closer to her, his solid form pressing gently against her back. Her heart began to race even more when she felt his breath on the back of her neck and the brush of his hair. He's here. He's so close, so warm, so real.

"D'you remember,” Jack said softly behind her, "that night on the Dauntless? Before the curse was broken?"

"Yes."

"I told you that I admire a person willing to do whatever is necessary." Jack's fingertips caressed her back lightly, and she felt herself shiver.

"So what I did was necessary, then?"

"In a way. I would have stayed behind, if you'd given me the chance to be a good man. But you couldn't risk the chance that I wouldn't. I am a pirate, after all.”

"You're a good man, Jack."

"Am I..?" Jack's hand slid around her waist and pressed gently against her side. His knees bent into the hollow hers made and she shivered to feel Jack's skin against her bare legs where the sheet he'd been tangled in ended. His legs were vaguely scratchy with hair against hers, but warm and muscular. She sighed deeply and tried to calm her galloping heart. She had no idea what she wanted, only that she wanted Jack to do it.

After a time, Jack's hand on her side began to stroke softly over her linen-covered torso, his touch gentle and unhurried. He stroked soft circles from her ribs to her navel, tantalizingly close to her breasts. Elizabeth held her breath and arched slightly back against him, her belly afire with the strokes of his hand. ShShe could think of nothing now except the desperate need inside her.

Rolling over to face him in the darkness, she laid her palm over the place she believed his heart to be, fingers splayed. His heart was beating as fast as hers was. Sighing, she tentatively began to blindly explore his body, feeling the texture of his skin. His chest bore two round musket-ball scars, which she remembered from their time on Rum Runner's Island. Jagged scars ran over his arm, interspersed with the faint raised patterns of what must have been tattoos. In the all-enveloping darkness she could not see, only feel. Her hand slid lower and his belly trembled under her as she felt fine hair curling down his hard stomach below his navel. She splayed her fingers over his side. Another scar here, wrapping around his ribcage, long like the slash of a sword. His body is like a topographical map, she thought, his skin spelling out his history in relief. If she wanted a map to her destruction, it was right here under her hands.

Muscle and sinew were solid and tight under her hesitant touches, as if he was forcing himself to be still. Elizabeth could feel the tension in his body as sure as she could feel his breath. She reached out, looking for his hair, but instead her fingers found the rough plane of his stubbly face. With feather-light pressure she stroked over his scratchy cheek, across his forehead, along his jaw. She felt the tiny braids of his beard between her fingers and the soft scratch of his moustache. She let her hand travel slowly over his face, trying to learn all the details of him to hold in her memory if something should happen to him again. Because any minute, he could remember what you did to him and shove you right out of this bunk, she reminded herself. But when she traced over his lips, he kissed her fingers gently. She held her hand still, feeling the pressure of his fine mouth as he kissed her fingers, then her palm, then the thin skin of her wrist.

Jack took her hand in his and placed it on his chest, covering his heart again. It was beating quickly, yet evenly. I wish I knew what he's thinking right now, she thought as Jack's hand began to caress her again. I wish I could see his eyes.

Agonizingly light, Jack ran his fingertips up the valley of her breasts to her neck and back down. Her nipples tightened at the near-touch and she shuddered again. He continued to stroke her body as softly as a whisper, from her jaw line to her thigh where the shirt ended. Elizabeth felt the heat inside her growing, radiating out from her womanhood like wisps of smoke from a fire. After making the journey several times, he sighed deeply and his fingers slipped down to the edge of the shirt, smoothing over her bare thigh. She couldn't control the soft moan that slipped out. Please, Jack.

He moved his hand away from her exposed skin. Up her back and over her shoulder his hand moved, raising gooseflesh on her skin that disappeared under his retreating touch. He stroked her torso again, studiously avoiding her breasts and the crux of her thighs. The objective of warming her had succeeded; indeed, she was now so heated that she felt she'd combust in an instant.

Flash...

The room lit amidst a rumble of thunder. For the first time since she'd invaded his solitude she saw his face. Jack's face, his handsome devilish face only inches away... His eyes were locked on hers, and they held something that said he knew he was torturing her with his slow, teasing touch, and that he had no plans on ceasing her torment. He’d not give in so easily, she realized. He’s not going to play to me.

Taking a shaky breath, she slid her hand down his muscular belly to where the sheet was wrapped around his waist. She could feel a strange, solid hardness against her, down there, and just the slight press of that was making her feel weak...and yet full of an aching desire to touch, to feel. Swallowed by darkness, touch and feel were all she had.

Jack lay still, not touching her anymore, not moving an inch. Her hand rested there, on the edge of the sheet below his belly, wanting to explore that mysterious hardness and yet terrified to do it. Closing her eyes, Elizabeth willed all thoughts of propriety and Will Turner and purity from her mind as she let her hand brush down over the cloth.

Ohhhh... Her breath hitched as she felt the hard, solid shape lurch slightly under her touch. This was that part she knew all men possessed, the necessary part that made them what they were, the part that she knew was designed to somehow fit into a woman’s body, her body, though she knew not the mechanics or specifics. Jack's breath was coming faster now as well. She stroked him with the very tips of her fingers again, the thin folds of the sheet all that kept his nakedness from her touch. Jack lifted his fingers to her and gently circled her nipple through the shirt, not quite enclosing it, yet so, so close. She wanted him to touch her, really touch her, God and Will and virginity be damned. 
           She stopped stroking him, and tried to move his hand over her nipple fully, but he pulled his hand back. She pressed her hand a little more firmly against his hardness, and he returned his hand to her breast a bit closer to her nipple. Elizabeth understood. He would not touch her any more boldly than she touched him. Damn this man for being so erotic and yet so bloody stubborn.

Mustering up all of her courage, she ran her fingertips down the length of his manhood, pressing gently and hearing his breath catch when she brazenly cupped it in her hand. She was rewarded by his hand enclosing her breast, and when she ran her finger around the ridge she felt at the end of him, he stroked her nipple between his fingers. The resulting delicious shock went straight down, simmering in her thighs. Elizabeth wanted his hand on her breast, on her skin, but she knew for him to do that she'd have to touch him without the benefit of the sheet cloaking him. She'd have to remove his covering, take him in her hand, and...she wasn't quite sure what she needed to do after that.

Jack continued to stroke her as long as she stroked him, and it was maddening, feeling the warmth of his hand diffused by the linen of her shirt. She had to do it; she needed him to touch her. Holding her breath, she fumbled blindly without aid of light to unwrap the tangles of sheet around Jack's hips. What on Earth was he doing in here that he's tangled himself up so, she wondered silently, and finally loosened the wrappings enough to tug the sheet down a bit.

Immediately she could feel the increase of heat around him, and was startled when something incredibly hot and smooth brushed against her wrist. She took her index finger and ran it down the hard length, feeling its heaviness, how strangely silky it was. So this is what makes him a man.

Flash..

The room lit again and she looked towards his face. She saw his eyes closed in pleasure as she stroked him, exploring him with her fingertips. Amazing to have this kind of effect on a man with only a fingertip, she mused, and let her fingers slip lower. Somewhere behind his manhood she felt the texture of his skin change, and she caressed the heavy sac she found below. He seemed to like that, though she couldn’t see his reaction; his breathing and the almost imperceptible tensing of his body were all she had to navigate by.

He let his breath out in a sigh, and his hand went to the low neckline of her shirt, slipping inside. His calloused hand cupped her breast and she cried out as he began to knead it in time to the strokes of her fingers on him. When she squeezed his shaft more tightly, he rolled her nipple between his fingertips. The tight heat between her legs was growing more and more urgent with the lack of attention, filling her with a desperate need she’d never felt before.

“Jack…I need…please, I need…more.” Elizabeth’s voice was throaty with desire. She tried to stroke him again, but he held her hands away from his body.

“I don’t think you’re ready for more, darling. Maybe you ought to go back to your own bed.” She could almost hear Jack smiling in smug satisfaction, damn him.

“No. No, Jack. Please, I need…” Her hands fumbled blindly for him but he held her fast. His naked body was close enough that she could feel his hardness pressing against her, and it inflamed her even further. At that moment, the indecency of offering her maidenhead to Jack Sparrow was far eclipsed by the hunger inside her for his touch, his body, his warmth. I can’t surrender to marriage and decent life without having known him this way. If I can’t feel him, taste him, I’ll go mad. I’ll be an empty shell of a virgin on my wedding day.

“I need you, Jack.”

He released her hands. Jack’s voice in the darkness was low, like the thunder outside. “There’ll be no going back from this, Elizabeth. You have no idea the kind of waters you’re sailing into.”

Elizabeth reached through the dark, searching for his hand, but instead she felt the hard plane of his belly. She followed it down and grasped his hardness in her hand, stroking him once, firmly and slowly. His ragged sigh answered her question before it left her lips.

“Do you not...want me?”

Jack groaned and pushed her onto her back against the mattress, the strong columns of his arms caging her between them. “You…you have no bloody clue what you’re doing,” his voice was almost a growl.

“Then show me, Jack.”

***Ch.3 coming soon***

-to be continued tomorrow...maybe ;-)