Jacey Gretchen Gibbs
Title: Jacey Gretchen Gibbs (Chapter 1-6
Disclaimers: I don't own any pirate/ship and I don't wish to.
Genre: hurt/comfort/romance
Rating: PG-13.
Summary: Joshamee is in dire need for Jack to do some honest pirating so that he then on turn could free his rebellious daughter with the money.
Set: some time after AWE.
Pairing: Jack/OC.
Gibbs looked after the young attractive lass, who had just shouted obscenities at him merely because of his former connection with Jack. Her hips and back side was nicely dancing from side to side as she climbed the stairs to her house angrily. The wench would've never spoken to a common drunken sailor like him otherwise, but the news that Jack was back in Tortuga traveled fast from whore to whore.
Joshamee Gibbs found out about it at the other side of the island the same night his old captain's newly stolen and claimed fourth rate ship of the line docked at the harbor. with its original name, HMS Alexander Brio still visible on the transom. Gibbs took a brief look at it while running to the Faithful Bride, as the most likely place he'd find Jack Sparrow. He had to admit, the full rigged warship was a good choice in a certain sense this time, nobody would've dared to steal it off Jack cause they would've been fearing the Royal Navy's retaliation.
“Ye recruitin?” In his big hassle to get there Gibbs bumped into the table Jack was sitting at. The pirate captain was going to be there for a while, possibly for the whole night, depending on how drunk he got, him maybe leaving wasn't the reason why Gibbs hurried to get to him.
Once he steadied the table, Jack looked the intruder over, then gave a lopsided nod, “jest taking what I can.”
“Any chance ye need a first mate, quartermaster, boatswain, another crewmember maybe?” Gibbs tried, wincing, not sure how Jack'll take his presence. It was mostly his fault after all that his captain had lost the Pearl once again to Barbossa and since then, they haven't met.
Jack rose and patted him on the shoulder so hard that the older man staggered into the chair at the opposite side from Jack. “For some reason, not many would want to join Captain Jack Sparrow.”
“Could tell ye the reason,” Gibbs leaned close, as if he was telling his old captain a secret, “but me throat is too dry.”
Jack rose a hand to indicate the waitress he wanted another bottle, but Gibbs was quicker, “lass! The rum I paid fe in advance last week! Here, now!”
The pirate captain didn't oppose to such delights, even if it was inconceivable that a drunkard like Gibbs would save up any money, let alone two bottles of rum!
“Ye should at least scrap the paint off that pride of the navy ye command, then I could maybe round ye up some volunteers.” The shorter man suggested.
“Ye got a lil role reversal mix up in yer head, Joshamee. It'd be ye scrappin, and perhaps you rounding up too. In fact that latter'd be a responsibility of me first mate if I'm not mistaking,” he patted the other on the shoulder.
“Aye,” Gibbs agreed, ready to assume any position Jack put him in, as long as he was close enough to bargain with him, “if I'm recruiting in the near future, may I ask what is the nature of this venture of yers? Jest in case potential recruits ask.”
“Hanyson.”
“The land of darkness ye mean?” Gibbs jumped back a little, “the one enshrouded in perpetual darkness? Where no one ventures out of fear, but the people in the surrounding area know it to be populated, as they can hear human voices inside?”
“Aye, that one. Got business in there with a certain map indicating the way.”
“Ye mind if I don't tell the crew our destination? They'll like it a lot better if we said we were going to pick up all we plundered previously from...where is it Jack ye hid it again? Ye know, my share and all, I'd like to know.” Gibbs tried to edge the conversation towards the main aim of him daring to come inside slapping distance to his old captain. He asked about the gold, yet he wouldn't have been surprised if Jack would've lost it all since, or decided Gibbs' share should be taken off him in change for the Pearl, however irreplaceable the ship was.
“I've got the prospects of somethin much more better than good old shinies.”
“It's shinies I need Jack this time though,” Gibbs admitted, then leaned close as if someone could've been listening, “for the daughter,” he whispered, “Jacey. Do ye remember me tellin ye about her?”
Jack pursed his lips in a quizzical manner, “ye sure ye can hold on to the money fe ribbons and pearls and not spend it on rum all the way to England?”
Gibbs shook his head, “somehow, I thought as well, that she'd stayed that six year old girl in pink who waved good bye to the HMS Dauntless and Miss Elizabeth, even though I did notice young Elizabeth growing up,” he unfolded a piece of paper and shoved it under Jack's nose, “it's from Jacey's mother and I've not heard of her since the navy'd relieved me of military duty. They could never wash their name clean after that, so she says here. Jacey was wrongly accused and criminally convicted and as a good looking lass the punishment was she was to be sent to become a wife of a new colonist in Virginia. That's their fate if they're lucky enough, isn't it? Of late, I've been scared to use the services of any new wench here in Tortuga, ye know, just in case. Cause how would I recognize me Jacey?”
Jack nodded, slowly, several times, thoughtfully, “ye don't need the gold, ye need Captain Jack Sparrow!” He raised his cup and drank to his own health, “tell any recruit we're on the way to Virginia!” He stood, dusted his hat and walked off back to the ship, now sure that the business of more crewmembers will be taken care of.
Tbc
Chapter 2: A Matter Of Innocence
Jack waited till Gibbs eased the ribbons out his dreadlocks, then walked up and down on deck, surveying the state of his crew. Having just put them on, fresh out from one of the crates they were kept in down the hull, nobody has managed to make the navy uniforms dirty yet. So close to Jamestowne even Jack exchanged his flamboyant clothes to a blue coat with white facings, white breeches and stockings. He however ignored the scarf and the wig necessary for somebody who assumed the position of a commodore, but given the majesticity of the barely modified HMS Alexander Brio, Jack didn't doubt he could even pass for an admiral.
As soon as the ramp could go down in the harbor, Jack sauntered down onto the pier, wincing only a little, but not retreating as a huge waving hoard of people greeted and encircled him. Surely his ship was visible from a great distance with the bit of the James river the settlement was on having excellent visibility, but he didn't expect the whole town to come out to greet him. And before he knew it, he ended up with a basket of hams and smoked meats, handed to him by a young, not too tall lass with a cutely shaped nose that Gibbs scrutinized from the corner of his eyes from behind Jack's back.
The girl retreated a little more hurried than seemed necessary from the way of a seemingly self important man, rather wealthy if you could judge by his clothing.
“Nat Bacon, from the Jamestowne council,” the man around Jack's age introduced himself and took the freedom to wrap an arm around Jack's back. “I hope our little welcome gift pleases you. Thank you for coming so soon. Since my letter, several other plantations have been raided by Indians. We were thinking of retaliation, but I'm afraid our farmers don't have the weapons and the slaves, as you know are lame in such matters. I'm thinking large scale raids to keep them away once and for all. We've got some of them captured, but they are not telling where their village is. Perhaps the royal navy's interrogation methods are more effective?”
“Even if the navy's weren't, our sponsor, the East India Trading Company's methods will surely do the trick,” Jack assured him. It was a truth that could not be denied. He turned around to face the colonist and stretched his hand out confidently. The long sleeves of the uniform covered his marked arms better than his own clothes. “Commodore Jack Raiment, to your service,” he said with his best Lancashire accent, or as much of it he could remember from the way his mother used to talk to him. He reciprocated the man's amiable gestures by locking arms with him himself as if they were best pals and accompanied him on their way towards some estate looking houses. He was cut off from the river and his crewmembers this way, but was more credible in his charade. Besides, he had to discuss matters privately, “to be honest we were told to aid efforts by Saint Eustatius to take it back from the Dutch, but haven't that island change hands a dozen times already just lately? Only after the trip to the Caribbean were we meant to see what we could do here on Jamestown Island, but since our aforementioned sponsor's business is more important than the a crown's that cannot check anything from such distance, I thought it was necessary to take a detour first. You've heard of Lord Cutler Beckett, chairman of the East India Trading Company? He wants me to give you all support you need in exchange for the woman he'd always fancied, a young one who was to come here by mistake to be a farmer's wife. Have you heard of a certain Jacey Gibbs by her maiden name?”
There were a few rumblings from the crowd and people who were still in earshot jumped back a little, so much so Jack felt necessary to check the position of his pistol, in case the upheaval was because of them figuring out they were in fact pirates.
Even Nat Bacon pulled his arm back, turned on his heels, then returned dragging a gruff looking man away from the others, “this is Farrel Granger, the man who married her. As a councilor I can assure you that she could be legitimately yours via a divorce by purchase, all in the interest of our town of course. Would Lord Beckett have twenty guineas for the purpose?”
Jack grinned widely. Having successfully conned half a dozen merchant ships on the way here into believing they were part of the navy before relieving them of part of their cargoes, he had no trouble producing two pouches, each containing the ten golden coins requested. Yet the particular smile was mainly about Gibbs, Jack anticipating the older man's sour look when he'll have to hand Jack over pretty much all that was left from his little share from recent booties, given the Pearl was lost under his watch, money he kept close to his heart and to his rum flask. “So where's this wife of yours?” Jack addressed the quickly divorced man.
“That I can't tell you, Sir,” the ex husband stashed away the money pouches, “I have no more claim on her now, but then again, noone does. She's the devil's daughter. She rejects all responsibilities of a wife and after I tried force, she ran off. She could be found anywhere 40 miles down the bay and by the Atlantic, or upstream by Indian settlements. Nobody knows where she'll surface for her sloop's painted as blue as the waters, she can even change the shade of her sails depending on the weather.”
“She's a pirate,” Bacon shrugged apologetically.
Tbc
Chapter 3: Tribal Colors
Jack dismounted from the horse he was given and landed on the balls of his feet. It was never the landing that was the problem, it was unmoving nature of the ground when he was trying to walk on it. So far, being on horseback had been similar to the motion of the sea, and having had a few drinks for each other's health with Bacon did help, not just as encouragement as the councilor intended before Jack was meant to take his shot at interrogating the Indian prisoners, but also because the alcohol kept the ground trying to run away from under his feet, just the way he was used to. They cornered a few trees that stopped him from even seeing any water around now, a sliding stone door became visible that led into a burrow.
Inside there, a prisoner was tightly chained to the wall. However, from his posture and the way he was looking away, he appeared to be perfectly at ease, as if he would've been indifferent to the fact his life was in danger.
When Bacon stepped forward, his hatred towards the Indian was evident. Him turning against the tribes without much reason was natural to him, it wasn't just to anger and challenge the governor who had advised against it. For him, Indians possessed less value, then a slave and if they didn't need the information from the prisoner about his tribe and their friend, Jacey Gibbs' whereabouts, he would've held his gun to the captured native's head, “hey, scut! Do you want something to drink?” He took a flask out from under his coat, pretended wanting to give the captive some of the contents, then took it away the last minute to drink himself, spitting it back out onto the ground in front of the Indian. “Here, lick it up,” he then turned back towards Jack, “there's no point to talking to the gudgeon. Chief of his tribe he is, of those abominations of nature.”
Not falling for Bacon's attempt of tricking him into believing he was going to be given water or even considering his visitors, the prisoner was staring out to the early morning stars through a small opening at the side that served as a ventilation hole. The dim light of the dusk washed the colors together on the headdress the red Indian chief still wore, and the smeared war paint, but even with the softened features the sitting prisoner looked tall and as proud as if he would've owned the land all around, which in fact he did.
Jack had no trouble recognizing him. It would've been difficult for him to forget the man who led you to the Isla Fortuna and the City of the Dead and taught you how to use the stars to navigate, even if his lips were now wrinkled from lack of water, his face worn and his once back hair had silver streaks through it.
Having had enough of the doings of Bacon, who'd proved he'd be ready to jump for Beckett if he wished him to, Jack had only been waiting for the right moment when they were out of sight from any guards or townfolk, like it was there inside the cell. He reached for Bacon's flask as if he would've wanted to taunt the Indian himself as start of his interrogations he was meant to conduct, but then he used it instead to insert it abruptly onto Bacon's face as sort of a new nose, which the receiver took with surprised eyes followed by a mute thud on the floor.
The sun set at that moment, but the near black eyes of the man in the dungeon turned warm in recognition. “Sir?” A slightly amused deep voice signified that the prisoner had interrupted his voluntary silence. He owed his life to the young Captain Jack, he was able to go back to his tribe, clear his name, so he was still addressing his once superior with the title he thought his yet again rescuer deserved.
“I heard ye became a chief, Tumen,” Jack said while using his cutlass to get rid of the ties that held his once friend's shackles to the wall, “with yer navigational skills it's an outright pity.”
“I heard you set your eyes on a single prize,” Tumen returned, “pity for the wasted time when you have the abilities to make any ship go as fast as the Pearl.”
“Do ye know a certain Jacey Gibbs?” Jack got to the chase.
“Watseka,” Tumen nodded, “we called her Watseka, the beautiful one.” Once on his feet, he held out his hand to Jack, “I want to thank you for wanting to help...”
Jack didn't hesitate shake the extended hand, but his sideways nod gave away that he wasn't feeling all that comfortable with accepting the other's gratitude. They were both pirates at one time, their common history included both positive things and wrongdoings. Nevertheless, he was happy Tumen still considered him a friend, after what he'd witnessed over the last years himself, he wouldn't have been surprised if any Indian was weary in the company of a white man, any white man. On the top of it, he had kidnapped Tumen himself once when they were a lot younger, made him go places he didn't want to. The Indian could've had no idea how Jack's personality developed over the years, that Beckett, rightly, accused him of being an Indian lover as well, not just a Negro's friend. Tumen also would've not known that Jack had spent a couple of years with an Indian woman by the Mississippi, where the rumrunners were headed and Ahawi had thought him of all the values and virtues of the Indians. “Just like old time then, ei?” He winked at the older man.
“...but I don't need rescuing.” Tumen finished his sentence in the meantime, “at least not from you.”
Jack contemplated for a moment whether those words were meant in a negative manner, he sometimes had trouble figuring out the exact meaning of what the Indian, originally from Yucatan, was saying in the past too and Tumen didn't seem to have spent much time practicing his English lately. He squinted and tried to peek out the small opening Tumen was staring out before, and noted it wasn't the stars as he'd expected, but the top of the trees the Indian could've found interesting. From experience, he knew how good Indians were at hiding, but with an already on the way attack he didn't have to strain his eyes too much.
The guards however, were caught by surprise. Somebody shouted at another to get reinforcements, but none of the self proclaimed Indian hunter colonists got very far. The Indians' war cries and triumphant hollers were getting closer and closer, so Jack finished cutting through Tumen's ties by freeing him of the rope that went round his body to keep him arms immobile. There were no alarm bells ringing in his head even when a large Indian barged in, brandishing a tomahawk in one hand. Tumen was the chief of the tribe, and the warrior would not harm somebody who was helping Tumen. Jack looked back from the corner of his eyes only, but thankfully that was enough for him to reach for cover, pulling close to his once friend. It was this way that the blow missed his head and he almost avoided it completely, bar for end of a shoulder and slipping down his back. He staggered, his uninjured arm dangling in mid air in between trying clutch his shoulder or leaning down for the cutlass he dropped from the blow. Ultimately, he didn't do either. The pain brought him to his knees. He was still hoping the pain'd subside and his hand could continue the movement towards his sword. The pirate looked to see the damage, much unable to concentrate on anything else, including imminent danger. Blood was pouring from the wound and while his nerve endings were sewered and numbed at the site of the injury, the pain coming from the surrounding areas made up for it. There wasn't much more he could do than give into it and hope that the silhouette leaning over him was Tumen and not his attacker and that the chief would stop any more harm occurring to him. His mouth opened drawing for what it could've been his last conscious effort to breathe and then he fell silent, blacking out.
The sound of celebrating Indians was heard as the warrior who attacked Jack raised his hand again to take hold of his victim's hair in preparation to scalp him alive...
tbc
Chapter 4: Allegiance
Jack frantically tried to sit up, despite the stabbing pain cursing through his entire injured side and found that he couldn't move, what's more, breathing was difficult. He struggled again just to raise his head and could see that he was lying on his good side on hard dirt, his clothes still wet from his blood. Then weirdly, it was above him that there was grass, tightly squashed together with bark, rushes, reeds and hides, all arranged in a domed, round fashion. Although he'd spent quite a while in a wigwam before, in his current dizzied state it took him a while to realize he was in one.
“Don't move,” said somebody kneeling next to some steaming pots, “I wanted to get the brews ready before I sat down to watch you,” the owner of the voice jumped into his vision to calm the injured man so he didn't aggravate his condition by trying to raise himself on his elbow.
Jack lost the fight quickly, and he was pushed back, now the woman talking to him filling his vision almost completely.
“The colonists who were with you at the time are all dead, no need to look for them,” his nurse uttered, turning her head away for a moment, just so she could reach for her ointments.
But Jack didn't hear her words. The vision in front of him was undoubtedly the most beautiful woman he had ever seen anywhere. The sides of her finely rounded face was shaped by her curly hair and every curvature of her body was exactly the perfect size to make her the ideal eye candy for any man. Her big, warm eyes were the most remarkable. It had nothing to do with color or shape however, the uniqueness was conferred by her calm, reassuring gaze built on her own optimistic outlook on life, belief in herself and an ultimate order of things. A dream that gave her no fear, nor any regrets, as far as her involvement in the happenings was concerned. They were as clear as the sea. In addition, she presented him with a small, daring smile curving at the corner of her lips.
It wasn't the confusion caused by the blood loss that stopped him from speaking, he had simply lost the ability for speech for a moment. His own heartbeat was all he could hear. Their faces were still very close as he was trying to sit up and she leaned over to stop him and it was this closeness that allowed her to be able to understand what he was muttering. “Darn, yer beautiful.”
He didn't take his eyes off her, his gaze remained locked to her sea colored eyes. She was what the sea would've looked like if she was a woman, Calypso had no idea what was the right human form to take as far as he was concerned.
In response, her smile widened and her tongue came out for a little cocky moistening of her bottom lip. The smile now transformed into an amused little laugh, “I always had in mind to meet the infamous Jack Sparrow one day. One thing for sure, it's not what I've expected.”
The pirate knitted his eyebrows, even forgetting to claim the right of his disregarded captaincy, “how do ye mean that luv?” The fact that she didn't seem to be enamored by his reputation like most women, just made him want her more. Half thoughts circulated crossing each other in his mind as he tried to formulate a comeback sentence. In his disarray he didn't notice her hands reaching out for him. He was too surprised to react when she pulled him into an embrace, let alone realize the reason behind it.
Her arms encircling him into a tight hold, she poured the contents of her medicine pot right over his injured shoulder.
Jack gasped. His environment blurred, his world became the hot pain starting in his shoulder and chest and which was as if it ran through him, right down to his toes and the top of his head. He was now barely aware even of the beautiful woman restraining him from twitching too much, yet the sudden clarity brought on by the wiping out of all his other thoughts and half thoughts made him able to come up with some kind of retort, “ge...ge...ne...rous, are we...hhh?” He needed to say something to her before he burned to pieces. His face buried in her hair he finally managed to get some air, her scent reaching his senses fully, then he pulled back a little as far as she let him and his eyes locked with hers once more in an open question as to why she was doing this to him, then he relaxed in her soft, yet strong arms, limp. He didn't mind what she was doing to him, that was his last conscious thought.
She let him lie back, smiling to herself again. She could already see her potion at work closing and cleaning the wound. Applying bandages and giving the pirate captain a sling, there also was an amount of satisfaction recognizable on her features. Jack Sparrow in a state of complete shock. If the stories her mother told her were true, that was a sight to behold.
“You're sweet,” she whispered with a finishing caress to his disheveled dreadlocks.
Tbc
Chapter 5: Tantamount
As purposefully as she was usually behaving, Jacey Gibbs strode back gracefully into the wigwam holding a pail of water and a pile of native American clothing. She knelt down next to him and listened out to his thankfully rather relaxed breathing. The patient was getting his rest and therefore there wasn't much else she could've been doing for him now. She reached out, wanting to check his bandages, whether they were tight enough on, even after the plentiful of movements Jack had initially done in his restless sleep. But the moment the tip of her fingers came into contact with his upper body the pirates' eyes flew open wide.
Suddenly appearing in front of his eyes like that, with him in the position to marvel at her because he wasn't paralyzed by pain, she looked even more beautiful. Her eyes were given a startling green shade, they could've been jade, but the effect could've also been caused by the light filtering through the holes in the moss one of the sides of the wigwam. The large almond shaped mirrors of her soul were influenced by the luminance just as much as the color of the sea was by the skies above. The comparison made him speechless for a moment. Was there more to this woman that met the eye? Something mystical perhaps? To do with her mother of course, a secret Gibbs could've not been aware of, otherwise he would've either told everyone tales about it, or, alternatively, back during his bosun days, he would've ran as far as possible from anything vaguely supernatural.
The young woman was on turn surprised to find herself blocked and latched onto the piercing, tempting darkness of his eyes under equally dark, thick eyelashes. A great secret was embedded in them, they were key to this man. What was he really like? A bit like a vulnerable little boy, or the dangerous pirate the navy thought him to be? How much of this, and how much the other? Perhaps talking to him would help shed light on some of that mystery, “how are you feeling?”
“Like a mummy,” Jack grunted, pulling himself up into a sitting position by the wall and pointing to his whole upper body being covered in bandages, right up to his neck and under his waistline. Apart from his worn, not so white as it should be navy trousers, he couldn't see his other clothes anywhere, “but I'll be fine luv as soon as ye free me of these darn things,” he tugged at the dressings, “I was assuming chief Tumen'd be using other means to hold on to a prisoner.”
Jacey rewarded the nonsense he was speaking with a smile, “those'll be staying on for some weeks.” She squintingly looked the bandages over and leaned to the side a little to inspect him from the back. She gave him another small smile when she was finished, “it's your lucky day. I do have free you of those so to speak, but only to change your bandages cause with that blood in them they'd stick to your wound if left this way. Then that'll be it. You should be careful everybody that counts knows which side you're on next time and you will be fine for a while. And hopefully of some use to me when I try to leave these shores once and for all.” She was told Jack had a ship and going on board would've met meeting her father, but if she wanted to sail away she had no choice. Joshamee Gibbs will not recognize her anyway, she didn't even know if the old man knew at all he had a daughter.
“I was injured before. I know how it works. It'll heal by itself if you leave it alone,” Jack tried to inch away as Jacey started to unravel him from under the linen and reached into his trousers without any hesitation so that she could take hold of the end bit of his bandages.
Jack gasped for air. For a moment he didn't know why, was it because his entire body was hurting or because his manhood was suddenly and mercilessly awakened by a tactless touch of a hand nearby, one intent only on not hurting him physically anymore than she had to, but seemingly completely unaware of her own movements' sensuality, effect and rhythm. He groaned in frustration and winced in embarrassment. Taking the air in and out slowly and focused, he was trying to make sure the bulge in his trousers didn't grow to an any bigger, clearly noticeable size. He sat without the support of the wall and leaned forward as the position could hide his manhood a bit more. However, the effort gave him a considerable bout of dizziness.
Jacey glanced up at his swaying head, “what's wrong?” And only just caught him before he toppled into the dirt with an open wound, “you don't wanna do that,” she laid him carefully on his side in a way she could work on him regardless of whether his patient was conscious or not. She started by pouring water over a layer of dressing on his back to get the dry blood unstuck from it.
Jack tried to stop himself shaking as he whimpered in searing agony when her probing fingers neared his wound. There was silence for a moment till Jack managed to get himself together enough to ground out, “how noble of ye to try to help an officer of the British navy,” but with the intense pain it came out more like a hiss and more sarcastic than he meant it, “given what the colonists said some officers done to you on the way here.”
“Oh, please,” Jacey scolded him still working intently on his back, “didn't I just tell you to be careful how you choose sides? What gave you the idea I didn't know you were a pirate?”
“My clothes, who colonists thought I was, who the Indians first thought I was...”
“Without clothes, every man is just a man,” she reminded him that at the moment all he could show up were some tattered trousers and then as confirmation of the fact she tugged the very trousers lower again to have a better chance at securing his new bandages.
“Ouch!” He took the opportunity to finally yell out. He couldn't look like a crybaby when his wounds were attended to, but when Jacey smacked his bottom playfully to order him to stop moving he could transfer all his sorrows into that one sound, “easy, luv, ye don't have to blow the man now to help him.”
“It should be thank you, mistress!” Jacey pulled the last strip of the bandage a little tighter than it was necessary before finishing up. After all this was the person she partially held responsible for her father never returning, for Joshamee Gibbs, an honest and pirate fearing man to turn into one of the most talked about legends to ever captain the ill-famed Pearl.
Jack turned towards her as much as he could manage to verify he was seeing right. He had to check what was the truth for himself, cause he could've sworn the color of her eyes must've been turning into the dark gray of the stormy waters when she spoke those feisty words. But such a manifestation he had seen before, it was a force of nature he could handle. Many wenches would feel the same about him at first, and don't they all come to eat from his hands afterwards? Thanking her! That'll be right! If it wasn't for her, he wouldn't be in the situation in the first place, not even near the mainland! But the lass had no idea he actually came for her and it should stay that way for just now. He took a broody, long breath before deciding to go for the charade, temporarily, “I should be thanking you. In fact, I will.” He raised a hand in what looked like a request for a handshake, but grabbed her hips quickly instead, making her lose her balance and this way he could pull her down and over his own hips, flipping the surprised girl onto her back, right next to him on the ground. “But makes no sense pretending I have something more noble in mind. This is thanks,” his eyes narrowed a little, sparkling mischievously as he moved to kiss her.
Weak as he was, sore if moving, she would've had no difficulties pulling away, slipping out his hands once she had recovered from her shock of being manhandled in such a manner. She never had much trouble defending herself from unwanted men's hands before. One little turn of the head and her mouth would've been out of reach for him, the aim of the kiss thwarted and planted on her hair instead. Yet she froze. Her thigh still high up on his in the direction she came tumbling down over him, she felt something hard against her, moving, pressing into her skin through his trousers. She remained marveled at the sensation she never felt before, of his penis swelling and stiffening in a manner she could experience it as if first hand. Cause it wasn't just a psychical manifestation, it was exciting to know she had such an effect on a man. It was sexually stimulating to feel that powerful as a woman. Jack was nothing more than a perfect stranger, yet in that aspect, it didn't matter. Even her breath remained stuck in her lungs for a moment, she jerked her head back a little only to look into his eyes for confirmation, could it really be a wrist sized penis' owner next to her? Her eyes conveyed curiosity, and more so, tension.
He took further advantage of her astonishment, even though he didn't exactly know why a well traveled and experienced woman would be surprised like that at a man's little forced advances.
Of a sudden his lips came closer, his tongue was wrestling hers and she did nothing, but buried her fingers into his abundant hair and kissed back, her eyelashes brushing against his face. He was away with the feeling for a moment, then suddenly like a flash of light that cracks though the night he felt weird. There was something wrong with this scenario. A freely given kiss was something to be cherished, cause in reality it was the only kind of kiss he'd take, but wasn't it a bit odd that she'd given in that easily? Joshamee'd not be happy about that, neither about the fact he was attacking his daughter. He started to hyperventilate slightly at the thought. He should have enough respect for his first mate and best friend not to corrupt his lass any more than she's apparently already been corrupted. Not so chuffed with himself for having a conscience, he pulled away and pretended the reason was pain, realizing in the meantime, that indeed he was still in pain.
Jacey pulled herself into a sitting position and leaned nonchalantly against the side of the wigwam, smirking at him provocatively, “that's all you're got? I was expecting more from the renowned Jack Sparrow.”
“Captain, if you please,” Jack growled back, still angry with himself for being sensible, but he tried to recompensate himself at least with a title. It was so hard not looking at those wet lips! He was supposed to be a pirate, damn it! The reputation's to suffer. A pirate would've never pulled back, would've taken any chance he got. Take what you can, give nothing back. But somehow the very saying both Gibbs and him regarded as their own motto made no sense given the circumstances. “More thanks will be in order darlin, don't ye fear, but now the order says rum! Fe the pain ye see, any makeshift doctor attending to any wound would know that.”
Jacey blinked, shaken out from the pleasurable moment by that comment. She was reminded about rum. The reason her mother didn't used to tolerate her father about, the reason he left, and more so, the reason he was kicked out the navy and could never turn back to see them without the danger of being thrown to the gallows. “There's no rum around here, I made sure of that!” She said gruffly and before he could react in any way, she leaned over him and with a swift movement, she tugged his trousers off his bottom.
Jack opened his eyes wide, expectantly, but the wench just giggled at his overexcited look, “not so fast, little Jack. I'll be washing those trousers as well, just so you know.” She threw a breechclout, leggings and some other items of Indian clothing she brought in earlier at him and with that, she disappeared out of his sight, leaving him with not just a pile a clothes, but a humiliated grimace and and a wince.
“Aye, Mistress Gibbs,” he muttered, contemplating how her mother could've been like with Joshamee. No wonder he turned pirate.
Tbc
Chapter 6: Residuum
Jack had absolutely no intentions to go anywhere, or even move a finger. Lying by the entrance of the wigwam he shared with the other non native American present in the tribe, he simply watched the camp settle down for the night. If not for the crackling of woodsplint for basket making in the next wigwam and the soft talking of some elders by the fire, everything was indicating that most of the Indians seemed to have gone to retire for the night. But it wasn't just the tranquility of the time of the day, the place was generally so calm and peaceful it set even such a rebellious mind as Jack's at peace for a while. Time was staying still, just like in the doldrums, he could see the sky above and a seagull flew past at times. The difference was that in the doldrums you felt stuck, but pretending over the last couple of days that he couldn't walk yet was his own choice. Even if oftentimes he asked himself what he was doing there, he could still his mind with wanting to get to know Gibbs' daughter, find out the secret she was hiding before he took her onto his ship and endangered himself for her again. That he was intrigued by her, was the least to say. He watched her intently as she boiled water, made arrows, marched among the campfire, played with the children.
Her mood would change as the sun was moving on the horizon, she retreated to a secluded area, stormy, her eyes turning a gray shade, then made up never before heard stories for the children and told them calm and warm, her eyes shining turquoise. Even though they were not living in the society of an established white settlement and under the naked sky, she didn't belong here, the same as she didn't belong to a plantation or the distant shores of a long forgotten country. She was wild, just like the sea, as if floating, or torn and battered. Always changing, yet in reality it made no difference. She looked untamable, like the ocean waves.
Jack had a pretty good idea where she would belong to, but wasn't sure if she'd ever tried that way of life. Maybe he couldn't tame her either, but if he could harness that energy, that power she seemingly possessed, not even the sea could stay in their way. He wanted to experiment with the possibility at any case. What's more, that woman played with men and love and it was a game of who was winning and that fact didn't make her any less interesting for him.
“So,” Jacey stood in the entranceway, intonating with a demeanor that signaled she was in a lighter mood this time, yet she was driven by some inner fire as ever, “do you think you can make it tomorrow back to the harbor on horseback?”
“I'm not sure what the colonists'd think when they find out I'm alive.”
“They are not. You're staying in Indian clothing.”
“Excuse me darlin, but isn't it just as bad, if not worse, when me, the presumably Indian, gets attacked for trying to commandeer a navy ship all by me onsies?”
Jacey rolled her eyes, “did I ask you to commit any act a violence? I'm going with you. I only asked if you'd be able to ride a horse.”
Jack wrinkled his nose,“any way we could row downriver? The pain isn't there anymore, just a kind of nagging, but I'm sure it'll be back if you make me bounce up and down for the whole journey.”
“Too bad,” she shrugged, “I had an idea on how to have you reacquainted,” she announced, with far much more energy than for it to have been a petty comment. She moved next to him, narrowed her eyes and slowly traveled one of her palms up on his legging, “those promised thanks of yours in order, before we get any further as this is the last night we can spend in privacy.”
Jack watched her incredulously. She voiced no wish, it was a command, soft, but demanding,as if it was said by a goddess, who was used to being served. What was the secret here and who was supposed to be the victim? The fact that this young woman was Gibbs' daughter had gradually already faded in his mind. Who was she? He frowned. These Indians had it so easy with no trousers, just a clout between their legs. But this way he hardly had any time to contemplate before her hand reached its destination. Plebe, the average Jane, or goddess, Captain Jack Sparrow never had any problems satisfying women.
He kissed her, curious, gentle and still relaxed from a few days of lying watching the world go by. He bit her lower lip carefully and leaned back to see her reaction. Was she the tough and experienced woman she showed herself to be, or was it a mask?
She shook her head a little with a smile. “You look surprised.”
“Perchance...some answers? Who are you for Lord Beckett to want you so badly?”
She gave a little laugh, not much more than an open smile, “not so fast. Did you tell me your mother's maiden name, the type of cargo in your hold, what other aliases you use or which whore's baby you fathered?”
“No, but I could...”
Jacey reached out with a finger and silenced his lips with it, cutting into his words, “shhh. Talking you have the chance anytime. No more excuses,” she whispered into his ear.
Jack closed his eyes, breathing deeply. That voice of her sounded so strange, different from how he'd ever heard her talking. It was like how a witch would speak, melodic like a siren's song making you to act upon your deepest desires.
She brushed her lips and a little tip of a tongue across the very surface of his lips, quickly, seductively, expectantly and indeed, the momentary contact was enough for his penis to come to life immediately and make him discard the thought process.
“Your turn,” she dared him on seductively, smiling, whispering both words slowly, as if she would've been savoring them too much to let them go, reinforcing an atmosphere of desire. She let her eyes drift seductively over his body.
“Jacey...” He didn't disappoint, murmuring her name in a deep, heat roughened voice that mirrored the exact desire the young woman was trying to bring forth in him. Yet there was something additional in his tone, mysterious, superior. It must've just been the breeze, she wasn't used to men's voices making her tremble.
Jack on turn, felt the appeal of a potent aura on him, if she would've indeed been a mermaid calling to him from the sea, he couldn't have been able to resist the urge and follow her to meet his watery grave. His lips reached out for her urgently, craving to devour her. Amongst kisses, he rolled her to the ground, so that he was on top and his wounds didn't hurt. Holding her tightly against him, he squeezed a hand in between them to massage the hills of her groin. Maybe he wanted to give her the pleasure just her closeness gave to him, but his ragged groan made it lucid that it was him who was clearly enjoying more.
Her hands found their leverage point on his scarred chest as she pushed him away from herself, “that's sweet, but your aim is failing precision,” she slowly spread her thighs and pulled his fingers deeper in between the hills, supplying him with the appropriate speed, amount of pressure and fluidity she needed to feel good.
Jack obeyed without thinking. Serving to provide sexual pleasure for women wasn't alien to him, it was foremostly Tia Dalma's game. Welcomed in a warm embrace after roles have been negotiated to the joy of the amazingly young one to want to play domina, Jack found himself buried in between his healer's large breasts. The pirate found that he couldn't care less who controlled the situation. The idea that he should leave Gibbs' daughter alone sounded outright ridiculous at this moment, it was obvious she had some experience in the matter. How weird would it be for him not to embrace all adventures that came his way anyway?
By the time he could work out a conscious decision in amongst heated emotions and broken threads of thoughts Jacey had pushed him a little away again and was now concentrating on stroking the scars on his belly and side, old ones that were in view as opposed to the ones still hidden under some bandages.
She was looking at him with passion fogged eyes and Jack wondered how she got there so quickly. Her tongue followed her fingers, kissing and licking his belly.
His strong body tensed under her touch and he bit his lips, clear sign he's been handled the right way. She gave him her trademark smile, satisfied by the effect she was having on him. She moved to remove her dress, then described every detail of his scars and tattoos with her tongue anew. Too bad his Desiderata tattoo on his back was ruined by the new injury, he could imagine her cuddling him up from the back to treat that long tattoo the same way. Indulged in his own imagination and aided by the motions of her hips against him, he seeked out her mouth, his tongue touching her lips beseechingly.
Giving in to the plea for a kiss, she directed her attention towards his groin by moving the clout out the way and reaching out for his penis to take hold of it. It was then she breathed his name against his lips. She had to push him away again, draw back and look, seeing was believing. She blinked startled at the eight inches large member in front of her, like the main mast of a full rigged ship that would come first into view on any horizon. Long and thick, but she'd imagine not too sizable to hurt her when it was inside her. She gazed at the dulcet visual till he started to find the wait uncomfortable for that very phallus.
He pulled her towards and lowered her under himself. His tongue traveled into the deep abyss of her mouth while his cock was rubbing against her clitoris, making her ready for the venture inside. His hand wandered down and he slipped a couple of fingers into her slippery cunt in the knowledge that it needed widened a little before his rock hard member could fit into it.
Initiated in the intimate contact, she hardly cared she lost the controlling role that she felt safe with in bed. Despite his injuries, he gave the impression of being very strong, and that not necessarily physically. He was hot, wondrously masculine.
She raised her hips and leaned into his fingers, wanting them deeper inside her. But that gave her little satisfaction. Every pore of her body jerked up to a state of being fully alive, woken by her titillating need to have him inside her. Lost to raw lust, their kisses became more indulgent. Amongst it, Jacey grabbed his cock herself and guided it into herself without any other care than wanting to get filled by it.
Thrusting up, he listened to her breathing, the rhythm of his body aligned with it, used it as his guide automatically for his motions. Other than that, nothing existed, but the fullness of her pink lips, the curve of her hips, the wish to serve and satisfy this woman without question.
Tbc
6