[POTC crack!fic] - "Captain of Love" - romance cliche fic for djarum99 - rated NC-17
Prompt: From
djarum99 . Write a J/E fic that utilizes every romance novel cliché you can manage.
A/N: First off, oh my God, as I cannot even attempt to reread this for errors, my horror being overwhelming, I give you this unbeta’d mess. As I have never actually read a romance novel, I decided that in order to properly address the needs of my readers, some research was required. After countless hours (minutes) scouring the web for a list of clichés, I formed the checklist below. I couldn’t manage to fit every cliché into this story, as writing badly is actually much harder than one would think, and bad writing was definitely required when penning this story. It was literally painful, and thus this is perhaps choppier than it could have been. Ah well, all in good fun, right? See if you can spot these goodies in the story! ;)
a) The virgin widow.
b) General Mary-Sue-ishness in the heroine.
c) The doormat heroine. Profuse weeping on the part of said widow/heroine/Mary Sue.
d) The secret arranged marriage.
e) The long-suffering heroine who never complains about life’s injustices.
f) The hero who suspects all women of duplicity because his first wife married him for his money then left him and the kiddies when she didn’t get the expensive lifestyle she expected.
g) Purple prose - especially when describing sex.
h) A stubborn hero who refuses to acknowledge his feelings for the heroine until she almost dies.
i) The profligate rake who abandons his rake-ish ways after much suppression of emotion.
j) Marty-Sue-ishness in the hero.
k) Brushing hair out of each other’s eyes. Constantly. Like monkey’s preening.
Most of these gems of guidance are courtesy of articles in The Romance Reader. Oh, and if you want to laugh, check this out: http://www.bookslut.com/features/2005_02_004332.php
CAPTAIN OF LOVE
PART ONE: The Proposal
“Oh Jack, what am I to do?” sobbed Elizabeth, her amber eyes sparkling with tears.
“What’s your affliction now, Elizabeth?” Jack sighed, leaning against the wall, arms folded. He was the very picture of a profligate rake, posing so nonchalantly in her small kitchen. A long rope of hair fell across his eyes, and Elizabeth sniffled, her palms itching to sweep that wicked hair off his brow.
“It’s just - things are so difficult now with Will being gone. I -” her lips trembled, rosy and tempting, “I miss having a man around the house.”
“Ah, I see.” Pacing, Jack strode to the window of her humble home, the smudged panes warping a view of the grassy cliffs and sprawling shoreline. “Well, Ms. Turner, that’s why I’ve come. There’s been an incident.”
“Oh no, Jack! What happened?”
“Will is dead, Elizabeth.”
She fell to the floor sobbing, and only Jack’s tentative touch on her shoulder could draw her away from the floorboards, stilling her wretched weeping. She gazed deeply into his eyes, feeling the fire between them ignite once more, and she yearned to touch the sun-browned peaks of his cheekbones. Still, she was a widow now, and decorum must be maintained. “Oh, my poor, sweet William,” she sighed, squaring her shoulders. Slowly, she resumed slicing the vegetables she had been preparing for dinner when Jack had arrived. Though she may be penniless and alone, no man would suffer a mediocre meal at her table. She intended to feed him well, despite the scarcity of more elaborate ingredients. “How did it happen?” she asked after several moments of sizzling silence. “How can it be, Jack? His heart still beats beneath my bed.”
“It seems that Calypso, in a fit of scornful rage, revoked her spell on the Dutchmen and her crew. All the men, including Will, are lost to the seas. I was there when it happened, Elizabeth.”
“Oh, Jack, how terrible it must have been. Are you alright?”
Jack resumed his pacing. “I’m well enough, Elizabeth, although it seems that there is - well, a twist- in this debacle.”
“Twist?”
“Yes, apparently young Turner and the ghost of your long-deceased father made a pact of sorts. William, knowing Calypso’s fury was likely to doom him in the end, drew up a set of papers outlining the details of your wellbeing were William to befall an untimely end.” Jack produced a yellowed scrap of parchment from his coat. “It says here that in the event of William’s death, you are to come under the care of one legendary, heroic Captain Jack Sparrow. Marriage papers, Elizabeth, should you choose to endorse them. Drawn in secret to protect you from an unbefitting fate.”
“Marriage papers?” Wiping her hands on her apron, she plucked the parchment from Jack’s fine-boned fingers, skimming the script carefully. “Can this be true?”
“Undead ink and all, so I’d assume -”
“And,” her voice trembled, betraying her shaky hopes, “and you, Jack? How do you feel about these arrangements?”
“I’ll not leave you to wither, if that’s what you mean,” he turned, peering through the window once more. “But you must know, Elizabeth, that if you choose this route, I can never be the husband Will would have been. I’ll give you my name on paper, but I can never give you my heart.”
“Of - of course, Jack,” she stammered, turning to the pile of vegetables once again. “It’s me, isn’t it? It’s what I’ve done in the past?” She sniffled, a single tearing tracing a glistening path down her china-white cheeks.
“It’s something more, Elizabeth. You see, long ago I had a wife, children, and a home.” Elizabeth lifted her hand to her breast, her heart racing. “Her name was Sophia, and she had hairr the color of wheat and perfect blue eyes. But she stole me money, you see, took the children and ran. I can no longer love a woman proper, Elizabeth, after the turmoil of those dark years.”
“I’m so sorry, Jack,” she said, drawing close enough to him to touch his shoulder. Her fingers grazed a strand of his unruly hair.
“It’s alright, Elizabeth. Old wounds don’t sting so badly, hmm? Besides, was me own fault for not realizing she’d only married a pirate for the riches she imagined I possessed. When the treasure ran out, so did she.” He spun, facing her, the air electric with unspoken words. She licked her lips hungrily. “Well, what do you say, Elizabeth?” He eyed the tattered paper she held. “Care to honor your vows?”
PART TWO: The Terrible Storm
Several weeks passed, Jack and Elizabeth living side-by-side in relatively peaceful, if starkly unconsummated, marriage. Elizabeth tended the house while Jack saw to the grounds, taking great pains to spend most of his time puttering about the gardens or drifting into town for supplies. Still a pirate to his core, Jack did not temper his rakish ways. Often, after sharing a delicious supper with his wife, he would excuse himself from the table, roaming back towards the port to spend the better portion - if not the entire portion - of his evening in the brothels. Elizabeth tried to remain unaffected by his wanderings, reminding herself of the dire situation which brought them together in the unlikeliest of ways, but in the cool pockets of night she felt increasingly lonely. Many evenings, she huddled in bed, crying herself to sleep.
That is, until the evening of the great storm.
That night was cooler than most; the air sweeping inland from the sea was chilled as if by some preternatural force. Soon after Jack took his leave of her, sauntering towards town for more congenial company, the winds began to gather, gusts of air slamming the shutters against the side of the house. By the time the sun was tucked fully beneath the horizon, the rains began, pounding the roof mercilessly. Elizabeth tended the small hearth fire anxiously, wondering if Jack had found a safe place to weather out the tempest. Unable to sleep, she huddled in her favorite chair beside the fire and skimmed over her new copy of Milton drowsily. The hours grew longer, and she began to doze between sentences.
It was then that Jack flung open the door.
He was soaked through, his thin linen shirt clinging to his rippled chest, his errant hair limp with rain. Stumbling forward and smelling of rum and tobacco, he dropped to the chair across from Elizabeth and met her gaze with smoldering eyes. He was panting and shivering, as though he’d run all the way from town to her little outpost. The heat of the fire was frigid compared to the heat he inspired beneath Elizabeth’s breast.
“Jack! You’ll catch your death in those clothes. We’ve got to get you out of them at once!” Her hands trembled as she reached for his shirt’s fastenings. He grabbed her wrist, halting her impatient fumbling with his shirt-ties.
“No time, Elizabeth. Trouble’s on the way. Overheard some scalawags at the tavern laughing about a plot to rob this house tonight, under cover of the storm. You’re in grave danger, Elizabeth.”
“Rob this house? But why? I’ve barely any possessions at all.”
“They don’t know that, Bess. For all they know, you’re a governor’s daughter and a pirate’s wife. Should be the richest woman in town.”
“Oh no, Jack! What shall we do?”
“Got to get you out of her, and quick. Grab your things. There’s no time to argue.”
“But Jack, I’m not even dressed!” she exclaimed, smoothing her wrinkled house dress with disdain.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Elizabeth, you look-” Jack stopped short, his eyes wide in horror and his hand darting to the hilt of his blade. Before Elizabeth could even manage to choke out a single scream, she heard the crack of the kitchen door breaking at the hinges. To burly men entered, snarling and lunging at Jack, swords drawn, and he pushed her out of the way roughly, his sword meeting theirs with a sharp clang.
“Run, Elizabeth! Hide!”
Staggering backwards into the front parlor on colt legs, she held her hand to her forehead, feeling faint. She grabbed an iron candlestick from the table, and was just collecting her wits enough to rejoin the fight and assist Jack when she felt a molten, searing pain beneath her ribs. Screaming, she pressed her hand to her side. The last sight Elizabeth remembered before tumbling into blackness was the terrifying image of her own crimson blood slathered across her palm.
PART THREE: A Confession
“Elizabeth, darlin’, can you hear me?” Jack’s soothing voice roused Elizabeth from sleep. Blinking, she squinted and surveyed the room. She was in her bedroom, tucked beneath several blankets, and Jack was beside her, strangely dry despite what she last recalled: Jack in her parlor, soaking wet from the driving rain. Sunlight poured through the windows, and she realized foggily that she must have slept through the night, as it was bright enough to be high noon. Sitting up, she winced at a strange twinge of pain in her side.
“Lie still, now. Wouldn’t do for you to unravel my fine embroidery just yet, Bess.”
“Whatever are you talking about, Jack? It’s noon and I’ve got to get your lunch ready. Why did you let me sleep so late? You must feel terrible without any breakfast!”
“Elizabeth,” he said patiently, as if speaking to a child, “you’ve been injured.”
“Injured? Nonsense, Jack, I’ve got to get to -” she paused, doubling over as arrows of pain shot through her side.
“I said be still, Elizabeth. I don’t want to have to stitch you up again.”
“What - what happened, Jack?” she asked, suddenly aware of the slippery heat behind her eyes.
“Men came to rob you, Elizabeth.”
“Last night?”
“It was two nights ago, actually?’
“Two nights? But I don’t-”
“You’ve been fevered, Bess. Thought I would lose you. I’ve been - I’ve been by your side ever since I saw them run you through.”
“And - and the men?”
“Dead, Elizabeth. I saw to it.”
“Oh, Jack! You could have been killed!”
“Wouldn’t have mattered, Elizabeth.” She opened her lips to protest, but was silenced when Jack raised his hand, signaling he wished to continue. Brushing a lock of hair from her brow, he dipped a washrag into a bowl of water at the bedside and laid the moist cloth over her forehead. She sighed, relishing its coolness. “See, Bess, that’s what I realized when I saw you fall. I knew, in that moment, that if you died, I wouldn’t care if I lived. You’re my North star, Elizabeth. A captain can’t survive without his North star.”
“Oh Jack, I -”
“Shhh, Elizabeth. Rest yourself and let me finish. “I - you see, until then I couldn’t allow myself to see it. I kept telling myself that if I loved you, I’d lose myself again. I didn’t realize that without you, I could never find my way. I was a fool, Elizabeth. An arrogant, blind, unforgivable -”
“Jack?”
“Yes, love?”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
He bent down towards her, lifting her head gently from the pillows. When their lips met, she felt as though she’d been lit aflame. She floated and flickered and felt both cool and hot as his lips pressed hers tenderly. His tongue parted her lips, and his mouth was molten as he kissed her slowly. She savored the warm velvet of their joining.
He kissed her thoroughly, delicious and long until reluctantly, he broke away, a smile lighting his roguish eyes.
PART FOUR: The Marriage Bed
The days passed slowly, Jack tending to Elizabeth’s every need as he nursed her back to health. Uncharacteristically restrained, Jack behaved as a consummate gentleman for the duration of her recovery. Other than their one glorious kiss, he kept a deliberate distance from her, only breaking his somewhat rigid decorum to press a chaste kiss to her brow each evening. Elizabeth, irritated with the distance he kept, grew restless.
After a fortnight spent lazing about her bed, Elizabeth was cantankerous, her palms itching to occupy themselves with tasks other than mending and reading. Jack would have none of it, and a sort of silent war ensued, Elizabeth slipping from her bed at every chance only to find Jack waiting in the shadows, ushering her back beneath her sheets. Another week passed in this manner, until one evening Jack announced he had to make a quick trip to town for supplies. Elizabeth, ears perked, promised him to behave and sent him on his way.
When Jack returned from town with a round of cheese and several fresh fish slung over his shoulder in cloth bags, he found Elizabeth busy in the kitchen, dinner nearly prepared. She wore a cobalt silk dress of the finest cut - an impractical choice, but one she knew made her flaxen hair appear even more lustrous. Her corset was laced tight, her breasts swelling at the gowns low-scooped neckline.
“Dammit, Elizabeth, you need to rest or -”
“Sit down, Jack. And stop your preening. I am quite fine, as you can see.” Removing the pot from the stove, she wiped her brow with the back of her hand, gazing out the window.
Sighing, he came to stand beside her, laying his purchases on the table. “Elizabeth -”
“Shhhh,” she turned, pressing her fingertips to his lips. Trembling, she continued. “you’ve been nothing but kind to me, Jack, and for that, I am eternally thankful. But I can’t - I cannot continue to live like this, beside you. I think you should return to the Pearl at first light. This - this marriage is more than I can bear, Jack.”
“But -”
“I’m going to walk to the shore. When I return, please be finished eating and find your way to bed. I’ll - I’ll wish you well in the morning.” Her eyes hot with tears, she turned away from him before he could speak and, finding strength once more, rushed through the door and into the chill night. The wind bit at her cheeks, and she felt herself blushing in the cool air.
After a moment, the kitchen door creaked behind her, and she heard Jack’s light footfall approaching.
“Elizabeth -”
“Jack, please.”
“No, let me finish. Elizabeth, I love you. I told you that weeks ago.”
“But - but I thought - I mean, you didn’t -”
“You thought I didn’t love you? Because I didn’t touch you?”
“Well, well yes, I did.”
“Elizabeth, you had a near-fatal wound. I couldn’t - I mean, I had to keep my distance in order to maintain - restraint around you. It had nothing to do with my feelings for you.”
She felt him close behind her, the heat of his body awakening her skin into tingling. She turned, reading honesty in his midnight eyes. Tenderness was there, and desire, heavy-lidded. Shaking her shining, luxurious, wind-tousled hair, she pressed herself firmly against his rippling, partially exposed chest. Her full bosoms heaved gently against his bronze skin.
They stumbled inside, through the halls and towards the bedrooms, their lips bruising each with passionate kisses. Tumbling to the bed, Elizabeth shivered as Jack parted from her long enough o shed his shirt. Standing before her, a tanned Adonis, he tenderly slipped her gown from her shoulders. Elizabeth trembled, feeling the hot sting of tears once more.
“What is it, Elizabeth? Are you in pain? If it’s too soon -”
“It’s not that, Jack. It’s just - well, it’s just that I - I - I’ve never been with a man before, and you might be, well, disappointed.”
Sitting beside her, Jack stroked her hair soothingly, tucking a golden lock behind her ear before speaking in a husky, rasping voice. “Elizabeth, you could never,” he tilted her chin towards him, love warming his onyx eyes, “ ever disappoint me, savvy?”
She nodded, sniffling. “And what about Will, love?” he asked, wiping a crystalline teardrop from her cheek.
“Will - well, we never. He - he didn’t want to complicate things for me, knowing he would have to leave at sunset. So we never -”
“Ah, I see. Well, no worries, love. We’ll take this as slowly as you like.”
She rested her palm on his knee nervously. “I - I want to, Jack. I do.”
“As do I,” he said, claiming her mouth in a passionate kiss. He undressed her slowly, reverently, his hands caressing her narrow waist and tantalizing curves. His mouth found the rosebud peaks of her bosoms, and she gasped as he laved her there. She explored the golden expanse of his skin eagerly, smiling as she found areas that made him sigh and fidget.
Unfastening his breeches, she stifled a gasp at the hard length of Jack’s quivering love-rod. Stroking his member, she groaned as he brushed away her hand and positioned himself to enter her moist valley of love. A fissure of electric heat jolted through her love-grotto as they joined, and she groaned as he stroked her petals and began to move faster. Her molten core exploded into fireworks, sparkles drifting behind her eyelids as she felt him erupt inside her. Panting, he fell across her, spent and love-moist. She kissed him tenderly, long, aching kisses until they both drifted into sleep.
They lived happily ever after and all that jazz.
djarum99 . Write a J/E fic that utilizes every romance novel cliché you can manage.
A/N: First off, oh my God, as I cannot even attempt to reread this for errors, my horror being overwhelming, I give you this unbeta’d mess. As I have never actually read a romance novel, I decided that in order to properly address the needs of my readers, some research was required. After countless hours (minutes) scouring the web for a list of clichés, I formed the checklist below. I couldn’t manage to fit every cliché into this story, as writing badly is actually much harder than one would think, and bad writing was definitely required when penning this story. It was literally painful, and thus this is perhaps choppier than it could have been. Ah well, all in good fun, right? See if you can spot these goodies in the story! ;)
a) The virgin widow.
b) General Mary-Sue-ishness in the heroine.
c) The doormat heroine. Profuse weeping on the part of said widow/heroine/Mary Sue.
d) The secret arranged marriage.
e) The long-suffering heroine who never complains about life’s injustices.
f) The hero who suspects all women of duplicity because his first wife married him for his money then left him and the kiddies when she didn’t get the expensive lifestyle she expected.
g) Purple prose - especially when describing sex.
h) A stubborn hero who refuses to acknowledge his feelings for the heroine until she almost dies.
i) The profligate rake who abandons his rake-ish ways after much suppression of emotion.
j) Marty-Sue-ishness in the hero.
k) Brushing hair out of each other’s eyes. Constantly. Like monkey’s preening.
Most of these gems of guidance are courtesy of articles in The Romance Reader. Oh, and if you want to laugh, check this out: http://www.bookslut.com/features/2005_02_004332.php
CAPTAIN OF LOVE
PART ONE: The Proposal
“Oh Jack, what am I to do?” sobbed Elizabeth, her amber eyes sparkling with tears.
“What’s your affliction now, Elizabeth?” Jack sighed, leaning against the wall, arms folded. He was the very picture of a profligate rake, posing so nonchalantly in her small kitchen. A long rope of hair fell across his eyes, and Elizabeth sniffled, her palms itching to sweep that wicked hair off his brow.
“It’s just - things are so difficult now with Will being gone. I -” her lips trembled, rosy and tempting, “I miss having a man around the house.”
“Ah, I see.” Pacing, Jack strode to the window of her humble home, the smudged panes warping a view of the grassy cliffs and sprawling shoreline. “Well, Ms. Turner, that’s why I’ve come. There’s been an incident.”
“Oh no, Jack! What happened?”
“Will is dead, Elizabeth.”
She fell to the floor sobbing, and only Jack’s tentative touch on her shoulder could draw her away from the floorboards, stilling her wretched weeping. She gazed deeply into his eyes, feeling the fire between them ignite once more, and she yearned to touch the sun-browned peaks of his cheekbones. Still, she was a widow now, and decorum must be maintained. “Oh, my poor, sweet William,” she sighed, squaring her shoulders. Slowly, she resumed slicing the vegetables she had been preparing for dinner when Jack had arrived. Though she may be penniless and alone, no man would suffer a mediocre meal at her table. She intended to feed him well, despite the scarcity of more elaborate ingredients. “How did it happen?” she asked after several moments of sizzling silence. “How can it be, Jack? His heart still beats beneath my bed.”
“It seems that Calypso, in a fit of scornful rage, revoked her spell on the Dutchmen and her crew. All the men, including Will, are lost to the seas. I was there when it happened, Elizabeth.”
“Oh, Jack, how terrible it must have been. Are you alright?”
Jack resumed his pacing. “I’m well enough, Elizabeth, although it seems that there is - well, a twist- in this debacle.”
“Twist?”
“Yes, apparently young Turner and the ghost of your long-deceased father made a pact of sorts. William, knowing Calypso’s fury was likely to doom him in the end, drew up a set of papers outlining the details of your wellbeing were William to befall an untimely end.” Jack produced a yellowed scrap of parchment from his coat. “It says here that in the event of William’s death, you are to come under the care of one legendary, heroic Captain Jack Sparrow. Marriage papers, Elizabeth, should you choose to endorse them. Drawn in secret to protect you from an unbefitting fate.”
“Marriage papers?” Wiping her hands on her apron, she plucked the parchment from Jack’s fine-boned fingers, skimming the script carefully. “Can this be true?”
“Undead ink and all, so I’d assume -”
“And,” her voice trembled, betraying her shaky hopes, “and you, Jack? How do you feel about these arrangements?”
“I’ll not leave you to wither, if that’s what you mean,” he turned, peering through the window once more. “But you must know, Elizabeth, that if you choose this route, I can never be the husband Will would have been. I’ll give you my name on paper, but I can never give you my heart.”
“Of - of course, Jack,” she stammered, turning to the pile of vegetables once again. “It’s me, isn’t it? It’s what I’ve done in the past?” She sniffled, a single tearing tracing a glistening path down her china-white cheeks.
“It’s something more, Elizabeth. You see, long ago I had a wife, children, and a home.” Elizabeth lifted her hand to her breast, her heart racing. “Her name was Sophia, and she had hairr the color of wheat and perfect blue eyes. But she stole me money, you see, took the children and ran. I can no longer love a woman proper, Elizabeth, after the turmoil of those dark years.”
“I’m so sorry, Jack,” she said, drawing close enough to him to touch his shoulder. Her fingers grazed a strand of his unruly hair.
“It’s alright, Elizabeth. Old wounds don’t sting so badly, hmm? Besides, was me own fault for not realizing she’d only married a pirate for the riches she imagined I possessed. When the treasure ran out, so did she.” He spun, facing her, the air electric with unspoken words. She licked her lips hungrily. “Well, what do you say, Elizabeth?” He eyed the tattered paper she held. “Care to honor your vows?”
PART TWO: The Terrible Storm
Several weeks passed, Jack and Elizabeth living side-by-side in relatively peaceful, if starkly unconsummated, marriage. Elizabeth tended the house while Jack saw to the grounds, taking great pains to spend most of his time puttering about the gardens or drifting into town for supplies. Still a pirate to his core, Jack did not temper his rakish ways. Often, after sharing a delicious supper with his wife, he would excuse himself from the table, roaming back towards the port to spend the better portion - if not the entire portion - of his evening in the brothels. Elizabeth tried to remain unaffected by his wanderings, reminding herself of the dire situation which brought them together in the unlikeliest of ways, but in the cool pockets of night she felt increasingly lonely. Many evenings, she huddled in bed, crying herself to sleep.
That is, until the evening of the great storm.
That night was cooler than most; the air sweeping inland from the sea was chilled as if by some preternatural force. Soon after Jack took his leave of her, sauntering towards town for more congenial company, the winds began to gather, gusts of air slamming the shutters against the side of the house. By the time the sun was tucked fully beneath the horizon, the rains began, pounding the roof mercilessly. Elizabeth tended the small hearth fire anxiously, wondering if Jack had found a safe place to weather out the tempest. Unable to sleep, she huddled in her favorite chair beside the fire and skimmed over her new copy of Milton drowsily. The hours grew longer, and she began to doze between sentences.
It was then that Jack flung open the door.
He was soaked through, his thin linen shirt clinging to his rippled chest, his errant hair limp with rain. Stumbling forward and smelling of rum and tobacco, he dropped to the chair across from Elizabeth and met her gaze with smoldering eyes. He was panting and shivering, as though he’d run all the way from town to her little outpost. The heat of the fire was frigid compared to the heat he inspired beneath Elizabeth’s breast.
“Jack! You’ll catch your death in those clothes. We’ve got to get you out of them at once!” Her hands trembled as she reached for his shirt’s fastenings. He grabbed her wrist, halting her impatient fumbling with his shirt-ties.
“No time, Elizabeth. Trouble’s on the way. Overheard some scalawags at the tavern laughing about a plot to rob this house tonight, under cover of the storm. You’re in grave danger, Elizabeth.”
“Rob this house? But why? I’ve barely any possessions at all.”
“They don’t know that, Bess. For all they know, you’re a governor’s daughter and a pirate’s wife. Should be the richest woman in town.”
“Oh no, Jack! What shall we do?”
“Got to get you out of her, and quick. Grab your things. There’s no time to argue.”
“But Jack, I’m not even dressed!” she exclaimed, smoothing her wrinkled house dress with disdain.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Elizabeth, you look-” Jack stopped short, his eyes wide in horror and his hand darting to the hilt of his blade. Before Elizabeth could even manage to choke out a single scream, she heard the crack of the kitchen door breaking at the hinges. To burly men entered, snarling and lunging at Jack, swords drawn, and he pushed her out of the way roughly, his sword meeting theirs with a sharp clang.
“Run, Elizabeth! Hide!”
Staggering backwards into the front parlor on colt legs, she held her hand to her forehead, feeling faint. She grabbed an iron candlestick from the table, and was just collecting her wits enough to rejoin the fight and assist Jack when she felt a molten, searing pain beneath her ribs. Screaming, she pressed her hand to her side. The last sight Elizabeth remembered before tumbling into blackness was the terrifying image of her own crimson blood slathered across her palm.
PART THREE: A Confession
“Elizabeth, darlin’, can you hear me?” Jack’s soothing voice roused Elizabeth from sleep. Blinking, she squinted and surveyed the room. She was in her bedroom, tucked beneath several blankets, and Jack was beside her, strangely dry despite what she last recalled: Jack in her parlor, soaking wet from the driving rain. Sunlight poured through the windows, and she realized foggily that she must have slept through the night, as it was bright enough to be high noon. Sitting up, she winced at a strange twinge of pain in her side.
“Lie still, now. Wouldn’t do for you to unravel my fine embroidery just yet, Bess.”
“Whatever are you talking about, Jack? It’s noon and I’ve got to get your lunch ready. Why did you let me sleep so late? You must feel terrible without any breakfast!”
“Elizabeth,” he said patiently, as if speaking to a child, “you’ve been injured.”
“Injured? Nonsense, Jack, I’ve got to get to -” she paused, doubling over as arrows of pain shot through her side.
“I said be still, Elizabeth. I don’t want to have to stitch you up again.”
“What - what happened, Jack?” she asked, suddenly aware of the slippery heat behind her eyes.
“Men came to rob you, Elizabeth.”
“Last night?”
“It was two nights ago, actually?’
“Two nights? But I don’t-”
“You’ve been fevered, Bess. Thought I would lose you. I’ve been - I’ve been by your side ever since I saw them run you through.”
“And - and the men?”
“Dead, Elizabeth. I saw to it.”
“Oh, Jack! You could have been killed!”
“Wouldn’t have mattered, Elizabeth.” She opened her lips to protest, but was silenced when Jack raised his hand, signaling he wished to continue. Brushing a lock of hair from her brow, he dipped a washrag into a bowl of water at the bedside and laid the moist cloth over her forehead. She sighed, relishing its coolness. “See, Bess, that’s what I realized when I saw you fall. I knew, in that moment, that if you died, I wouldn’t care if I lived. You’re my North star, Elizabeth. A captain can’t survive without his North star.”
“Oh Jack, I -”
“Shhh, Elizabeth. Rest yourself and let me finish. “I - you see, until then I couldn’t allow myself to see it. I kept telling myself that if I loved you, I’d lose myself again. I didn’t realize that without you, I could never find my way. I was a fool, Elizabeth. An arrogant, blind, unforgivable -”
“Jack?”
“Yes, love?”
“Shut up and kiss me.”
He bent down towards her, lifting her head gently from the pillows. When their lips met, she felt as though she’d been lit aflame. She floated and flickered and felt both cool and hot as his lips pressed hers tenderly. His tongue parted her lips, and his mouth was molten as he kissed her slowly. She savored the warm velvet of their joining.
He kissed her thoroughly, delicious and long until reluctantly, he broke away, a smile lighting his roguish eyes.
PART FOUR: The Marriage Bed
The days passed slowly, Jack tending to Elizabeth’s every need as he nursed her back to health. Uncharacteristically restrained, Jack behaved as a consummate gentleman for the duration of her recovery. Other than their one glorious kiss, he kept a deliberate distance from her, only breaking his somewhat rigid decorum to press a chaste kiss to her brow each evening. Elizabeth, irritated with the distance he kept, grew restless.
After a fortnight spent lazing about her bed, Elizabeth was cantankerous, her palms itching to occupy themselves with tasks other than mending and reading. Jack would have none of it, and a sort of silent war ensued, Elizabeth slipping from her bed at every chance only to find Jack waiting in the shadows, ushering her back beneath her sheets. Another week passed in this manner, until one evening Jack announced he had to make a quick trip to town for supplies. Elizabeth, ears perked, promised him to behave and sent him on his way.
When Jack returned from town with a round of cheese and several fresh fish slung over his shoulder in cloth bags, he found Elizabeth busy in the kitchen, dinner nearly prepared. She wore a cobalt silk dress of the finest cut - an impractical choice, but one she knew made her flaxen hair appear even more lustrous. Her corset was laced tight, her breasts swelling at the gowns low-scooped neckline.
“Dammit, Elizabeth, you need to rest or -”
“Sit down, Jack. And stop your preening. I am quite fine, as you can see.” Removing the pot from the stove, she wiped her brow with the back of her hand, gazing out the window.
Sighing, he came to stand beside her, laying his purchases on the table. “Elizabeth -”
“Shhhh,” she turned, pressing her fingertips to his lips. Trembling, she continued. “you’ve been nothing but kind to me, Jack, and for that, I am eternally thankful. But I can’t - I cannot continue to live like this, beside you. I think you should return to the Pearl at first light. This - this marriage is more than I can bear, Jack.”
“But -”
“I’m going to walk to the shore. When I return, please be finished eating and find your way to bed. I’ll - I’ll wish you well in the morning.” Her eyes hot with tears, she turned away from him before he could speak and, finding strength once more, rushed through the door and into the chill night. The wind bit at her cheeks, and she felt herself blushing in the cool air.
After a moment, the kitchen door creaked behind her, and she heard Jack’s light footfall approaching.
“Elizabeth -”
“Jack, please.”
“No, let me finish. Elizabeth, I love you. I told you that weeks ago.”
“But - but I thought - I mean, you didn’t -”
“You thought I didn’t love you? Because I didn’t touch you?”
“Well, well yes, I did.”
“Elizabeth, you had a near-fatal wound. I couldn’t - I mean, I had to keep my distance in order to maintain - restraint around you. It had nothing to do with my feelings for you.”
She felt him close behind her, the heat of his body awakening her skin into tingling. She turned, reading honesty in his midnight eyes. Tenderness was there, and desire, heavy-lidded. Shaking her shining, luxurious, wind-tousled hair, she pressed herself firmly against his rippling, partially exposed chest. Her full bosoms heaved gently against his bronze skin.
They stumbled inside, through the halls and towards the bedrooms, their lips bruising each with passionate kisses. Tumbling to the bed, Elizabeth shivered as Jack parted from her long enough o shed his shirt. Standing before her, a tanned Adonis, he tenderly slipped her gown from her shoulders. Elizabeth trembled, feeling the hot sting of tears once more.
“What is it, Elizabeth? Are you in pain? If it’s too soon -”
“It’s not that, Jack. It’s just - well, it’s just that I - I - I’ve never been with a man before, and you might be, well, disappointed.”
Sitting beside her, Jack stroked her hair soothingly, tucking a golden lock behind her ear before speaking in a husky, rasping voice. “Elizabeth, you could never,” he tilted her chin towards him, love warming his onyx eyes, “ ever disappoint me, savvy?”
She nodded, sniffling. “And what about Will, love?” he asked, wiping a crystalline teardrop from her cheek.
“Will - well, we never. He - he didn’t want to complicate things for me, knowing he would have to leave at sunset. So we never -”
“Ah, I see. Well, no worries, love. We’ll take this as slowly as you like.”
She rested her palm on his knee nervously. “I - I want to, Jack. I do.”
“As do I,” he said, claiming her mouth in a passionate kiss. He undressed her slowly, reverently, his hands caressing her narrow waist and tantalizing curves. His mouth found the rosebud peaks of her bosoms, and she gasped as he laved her there. She explored the golden expanse of his skin eagerly, smiling as she found areas that made him sigh and fidget.
Unfastening his breeches, she stifled a gasp at the hard length of Jack’s quivering love-rod. Stroking his member, she groaned as he brushed away her hand and positioned himself to enter her moist valley of love. A fissure of electric heat jolted through her love-grotto as they joined, and she groaned as he stroked her petals and began to move faster. Her molten core exploded into fireworks, sparkles drifting behind her eyelids as she felt him erupt inside her. Panting, he fell across her, spent and love-moist. She kissed him tenderly, long, aching kisses until they both drifted into sleep.
They lived happily ever after and all that jazz.