"Old Time's Sake" - Pirates of the Caribbean - Anamaria/Jack
Title: Old Time's Sake
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Author: capn_trips
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I make no profit from this, alas!
Characters/Pairings: Anamaria/Jack
Prompt: Written for Porn Battle XI - slap, gone
Summary: Anamaria is leaving, but Jack wants one more romp.
Anamaria had quite the purposeful stride when she was angry. Jack was rushing after her as well as he could, sputtering anything that would come to mind as he went. Things he’d said maybe a thousand times, and not just to her.
“I need you, I have to have you, you must stay for… love and… things.” When it became clear this wasn’t placating her, he tried a practical approach. “The crew is dwindling as it is. They’re so hard to replace. And you’re so hardworking.” Oh, that was good. A little flattery for good measure.
Clearly none of this was striking her as anything but disingenuous, but at the very least it was getting on her nerves enough that she spun on him. Jack barely stopped in time to keep from sending them both tumbling, and somehow he managed to make this look graceful when it was anything but.
“You make promises, and you do not keep them,” she spat at him, causing him to lean back. “Always you do this. I was told I would have a ship when our business was done.”
“This… is half your ship,” he said, but the words were very hesitant. He grinned to try and cover it, knowing he could dazzle her if he tried hard enough. “The Black Pearl is nothing without her crew, love.”
“You lie,” she said, and now she sounded genuinely disappointed but unsurprised. Then she smirked as if she couldn’t help but find something affectionate in that. “But then… pirate.”
“Too right,” Jack said, but now his demeanor had turned gentle as well. He swept a hand across her shoulder, up the dark curve of her neck, so like a swan’s. “For old time's sake?”
“I get to be on top,” she said, her head high and her expression imperious.
On top she was.
They’d clambered, grabbing and tearing, below deck. Wading through discarded rum bottles, Jack wrestling not to wind up with an empty one in an uncomfortable place, and Anamaria had immediately insinuated herself exactly where she wanted to be. The ceiling was low in the alcove they chose, and she reached up and laid her palm flat against said ceiling, bracing and bearing down. This caused her to twist to the side to accommodate the small space, and Jack grabbed her leg, long and slender, up against his shoulder. She was open to him this way, ready, and he took the plunge.
The scent of rum and sea was thick, the smell of old wood as well. And of new wood, the pondered pun making Jack chuckle even as he thrust wildly between Anamaria’s legs. She was a severe woman and didn’t much enjoy his mirth, and it made her ride harder to silence him. Indeed he began to lose himself in sensation, slick flesh on flesh, particularly where they joined, becoming harder, tighter, heightening.
He reached for her swinging breasts, her round backside. She clawed down his tanned chest, searing new brands over his tattooed flesh. She shouted, a warrior’s cry, and ended, grinding and riding through her climax. She wanted no babies; she’d made that clear, and Jack lifted her then, unsheathing himself just as he spilled generously onto her thighs.
Despite her better judgment, Anamaria lingered, resting after such wild exertions. At first, miracle of miracles, Jack said nothing. But it lasted barely five minutes as his energy and senses began to return.
“I’m glad at least to have gotten one more day’s work from you.”
Anamaria hopped up then, putting her blouse and trousers back into place, and backhanded him. “Yes, it has been quite the pleasure, Sparrow.”
“Captain!” he shouted to her retreating backside, watching it sway before smiling lazily to himself.
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Author: capn_trips
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I make no profit from this, alas!
Characters/Pairings: Anamaria/Jack
Prompt: Written for Porn Battle XI - slap, gone
Summary: Anamaria is leaving, but Jack wants one more romp.
Anamaria had quite the purposeful stride when she was angry. Jack was rushing after her as well as he could, sputtering anything that would come to mind as he went. Things he’d said maybe a thousand times, and not just to her.
“I need you, I have to have you, you must stay for… love and… things.” When it became clear this wasn’t placating her, he tried a practical approach. “The crew is dwindling as it is. They’re so hard to replace. And you’re so hardworking.” Oh, that was good. A little flattery for good measure.
Clearly none of this was striking her as anything but disingenuous, but at the very least it was getting on her nerves enough that she spun on him. Jack barely stopped in time to keep from sending them both tumbling, and somehow he managed to make this look graceful when it was anything but.
“You make promises, and you do not keep them,” she spat at him, causing him to lean back. “Always you do this. I was told I would have a ship when our business was done.”
“This… is half your ship,” he said, but the words were very hesitant. He grinned to try and cover it, knowing he could dazzle her if he tried hard enough. “The Black Pearl is nothing without her crew, love.”
“You lie,” she said, and now she sounded genuinely disappointed but unsurprised. Then she smirked as if she couldn’t help but find something affectionate in that. “But then… pirate.”
“Too right,” Jack said, but now his demeanor had turned gentle as well. He swept a hand across her shoulder, up the dark curve of her neck, so like a swan’s. “For old time's sake?”
“I get to be on top,” she said, her head high and her expression imperious.
On top she was.
They’d clambered, grabbing and tearing, below deck. Wading through discarded rum bottles, Jack wrestling not to wind up with an empty one in an uncomfortable place, and Anamaria had immediately insinuated herself exactly where she wanted to be. The ceiling was low in the alcove they chose, and she reached up and laid her palm flat against said ceiling, bracing and bearing down. This caused her to twist to the side to accommodate the small space, and Jack grabbed her leg, long and slender, up against his shoulder. She was open to him this way, ready, and he took the plunge.
The scent of rum and sea was thick, the smell of old wood as well. And of new wood, the pondered pun making Jack chuckle even as he thrust wildly between Anamaria’s legs. She was a severe woman and didn’t much enjoy his mirth, and it made her ride harder to silence him. Indeed he began to lose himself in sensation, slick flesh on flesh, particularly where they joined, becoming harder, tighter, heightening.
He reached for her swinging breasts, her round backside. She clawed down his tanned chest, searing new brands over his tattooed flesh. She shouted, a warrior’s cry, and ended, grinding and riding through her climax. She wanted no babies; she’d made that clear, and Jack lifted her then, unsheathing himself just as he spilled generously onto her thighs.
Despite her better judgment, Anamaria lingered, resting after such wild exertions. At first, miracle of miracles, Jack said nothing. But it lasted barely five minutes as his energy and senses began to return.
“I’m glad at least to have gotten one more day’s work from you.”
Anamaria hopped up then, putting her blouse and trousers back into place, and backhanded him. “Yes, it has been quite the pleasure, Sparrow.”
“Captain!” he shouted to her retreating backside, watching it sway before smiling lazily to himself.