Ruthless
Title: Ruthless
Author: artemismuse
Pairing: Scruffibeth (it is DMC, after all)
Rating: R for coarse language, sex and cruelty
Warnings: Spoilers through DMC. Darkfic. This is not fluffy in the slightest. Except possibly the end, which is.
Summary: They both have nightmares, and neither will admit to needing the other. Set immediately after James' "it's a curious thing-" comment, Elizabeth admits her attraction to him has grown since he became a pirate. James becomes Elizabeth's addiction and her dirty secret...
"It's a curious thing---there was a time I would have given anything for you to look like that while thinking of me."
Elizabeth snaps out of her reverie and gets a good look at James Norrington, leaning on the railing beside her, for the first time since they've begun this voyage. He is unshaven and his face and fingernails are covered in dirt and grime. His eyes look haunted, as if he has seen horrors and cannot stop dreaming of them, and Elizabeth understands, because she has stayed awake for days to avoid the dreams that come at night. His torn shirt is only half done up and his greasy wind-blown hair is falling out of its badly-tied queue. He is slouching and his entire posture gives off "I don't give a fuck" signals from a mile away. He smells of rum and smoke and sweat and desperation. Her mouth goes dry. He is, undoubtedly and against all odds, the most attractive man Elizabeth has ever seen in her life.
"And what about now?" She should leave him alone, but she is unable to say anything else. He doesn't look at her when he replies.
"I don't want your pity." A polite fuck-off-and-leave-me-alone. He takes a swig of rum. Elizabeth shakes her head.
"Trust me, it's not pity." He looks at her now, examines her with his hard eyes, and lets out a bark of laughter when he realizes she's telling the truth.
"So the Commodore wouldn't do it for you, but the pirate does. When I could have offered you the world, you didn't want it, but now that all I'll give you is rough sex in a dirty alley somewhere, you want me. Amazing."
"That's about the shape of things," she admits, looking down at the deck. She cannot meet his gaze for fear of the mockery and resentment she will see there. She starts to push herself up from the railing, but his arm snaps out lightning-fast, grabs her by the upper arm and pulls her back.
"Meet me in the galley. After dark." A thrill of lust and fear runs through her. She nods, once. He picks up his bucket and rag and walks away. Her eyes follow him.
He has her over a table and takes her from behind, just like the cabin boy she pretends to be. He pounds into her like he is trying to evict her from his system by force, and though he does not care about her pleasure, she screams his name anyway. When he finishes, she asks, still bent over the table,
"Did it work?" He does not immediately answer. Then he says,
"Tomorrow." It is not a question.
"Yes."
"You know where to find me- swabbing the deck on my hands and knees, as usual. Lovely mental image for you." She shivers because he's right; it is a lovely mental image, and he smirks before he shuts the door, leaving her alone with her breeches around her ankles. So begins their illicit affair.
He is never gentle with her- not gentle at all, not like Will, and she deserves this treatment, she thinks, for what she's done to James. She even craves it, this strange form of absolution that leaves her panting and sore. Sometimes, when he is too drunk or exhausted to push her away, she holds him afterward; he shudders in her embrace and she says, "It's alright," even though it isn't.
Elizabeth has never once seen his face during the act, and when he sneers, "Elizabeth Swann, governor's daughter and cheap gutterslut," she does not bother to contradict him. She is the one to say "Tomorrow," now, and when he tells her to stop meeting him, she says no. She doesn't want to. She is discovering a wild and fierce side of herself that shocks her, and she revels in it.
And though neither of them mention it, on rare occasions she brings him back to her cabin and they fall asleep in a tangle of limbs and sweat, and neither of them have nightmares. It is the only time they don't dream of horrors, when they fall asleep together afterward, so both of them benefit from their arrangement in other ways than the pleasure, though far be it from Elizabeth to ever deny that aspect either. James appears to have an insatiable desire that only she can slake, and she does slake it, both his and hers, every night.
When they finally dock in search of the chest, Elizabeth is first to wield the compass. As James wanders around the sand, the compass swings in his direction and she follows until she realizes what is happening. She finally dumps it in his smirking grasp, saying, "Fine, see if you do any better."
He stands there unmoving as it points unerringly to his left, where she is standing. She looks at him as if to say 'I told you so'. Disgusted, he tosses the compass to Jack, who immediately strides to their right and starts digging. While they stand there glaring at each other, Will appears on the beach and they jump apart guiltily. Elizabeth does not, however, run to him and greet him, nor does she look overjoyed to see him.
"So sorry to disappoint you, Will lad, but your lady-love appears to have decided that the thing she wants most in the world is not, in fact, presently, the heart of Davy Jones or, indeed, you at the present moment, but rather, present over there." Jack tosses him a shovel. "And the quicker we dig this thing up, the quicker you two can duel it out and I can go back to drinking me rum. Savvy?"
Of course, it is at about this time that Davy Jones's crew show up and Will, Jack and James decide that a three-way swordfight over the chest would be a good idea, so Elizabeth never gets a word in edgewise until James runs by her with the chest, yelling
"Don't wait for me!"
But Elizabeth is stubborn and resents being told what to do, so she stands by the lifeboat while Jack and Will are fighting each other over the key, and she does nothing to alert the others when James discovers the heart that Jack has hidden in his jar of dirt. She only climbs in the lifeboat as he starts to row away.
"I'm coming with you."
"Why?"
"You're getting your life back. I'm interested in being part of that."
"Odd, you never seemed interested in it before." She shrugs.
"I'm sick of pirates- save one. And Elizabeth Norrington, admiral's wife, has a nice ring to it."
"What about your fiancé?" She feigns confusion.
"Fiancé? What fiancé?"
"Turner." He looks sourly at her.
"Who?" She flutters her eyelashes innocently.
"You're a cruel woman, Elizabeth Swann."
"Cruel enough for you?" They share a look, and then their lips are meeting across the lifeboat and they are kissing for the first time. It - like everything else in their relationship up to this point- is slightly cruel, passionate, and full of comfort neither of them will ever admit to needing. "I'm not sorry," she says. "About anything."
"No," he says. "Of course not. Take what you can, isn't that right?"
"Yes, if it means getting what I want, which happens to be you."
"You don't love me," he says, ever cynical.
"I love what you do to me. Isn't that close enough?"
"I should throw you overboard."
"But you won't," she says confidently, remembering the compass.
"No," he agrees, "I won't."
They take turns rowing and sleeping, and their unspoken agreement continues- they keep in close physical contact, and never dream. James tries to keep up a bitter and sarcastic front, but his heart isn't in it, not really. He finds himself being gentle with her, and her responding in kind, and they both quickly cover it up with snide remarks.
They talk about what they are going to do once they hand over the heart; they fantasize about the showers they are going to take, the clothes they will be able to wear again, the food they are going to eat. On one memorable occasion, James remarks that he'll never have to drink rum again, but Elizabeth persuades him to reconsider, and the sex that ensues almost tips the lifeboat over. They are ruthless in their critiques of piracy and the accompanying lifestyle, never mentioning that it was piracy that brought them together.
And when they kiss, they are slicing away at their loneliness with tongues like razors.
One year later:
They become a formidable couple, the Norringtons, each more beautiful and cold than the other. They are ruthless in their pursuit of pirates, not pausing even to sleep. But though they are notorious for their cruel tastes and crueler pleasures, no one sees them trying to crawl into each other's skin at night when they hold each other far too tight. No one sees them sleep soundly in each other's arms as they do not when they are apart. And no one hears James whisper "I love you" when he thinks Elizabeth is safely asleep and cannot hear… except Elizabeth, who always smiles to herself, waits a while, and then whispers "I love you" back once she thinks it's safe to do so. And James, who isn't really asleep either, wraps the words up to keep him warm when he is far from home.
Author: artemismuse
Pairing: Scruffibeth (it is DMC, after all)
Rating: R for coarse language, sex and cruelty
Warnings: Spoilers through DMC. Darkfic. This is not fluffy in the slightest. Except possibly the end, which is.
Summary: They both have nightmares, and neither will admit to needing the other. Set immediately after James' "it's a curious thing-" comment, Elizabeth admits her attraction to him has grown since he became a pirate. James becomes Elizabeth's addiction and her dirty secret...
"It's a curious thing---there was a time I would have given anything for you to look like that while thinking of me."
Elizabeth snaps out of her reverie and gets a good look at James Norrington, leaning on the railing beside her, for the first time since they've begun this voyage. He is unshaven and his face and fingernails are covered in dirt and grime. His eyes look haunted, as if he has seen horrors and cannot stop dreaming of them, and Elizabeth understands, because she has stayed awake for days to avoid the dreams that come at night. His torn shirt is only half done up and his greasy wind-blown hair is falling out of its badly-tied queue. He is slouching and his entire posture gives off "I don't give a fuck" signals from a mile away. He smells of rum and smoke and sweat and desperation. Her mouth goes dry. He is, undoubtedly and against all odds, the most attractive man Elizabeth has ever seen in her life.
"And what about now?" She should leave him alone, but she is unable to say anything else. He doesn't look at her when he replies.
"I don't want your pity." A polite fuck-off-and-leave-me-alone. He takes a swig of rum. Elizabeth shakes her head.
"Trust me, it's not pity." He looks at her now, examines her with his hard eyes, and lets out a bark of laughter when he realizes she's telling the truth.
"So the Commodore wouldn't do it for you, but the pirate does. When I could have offered you the world, you didn't want it, but now that all I'll give you is rough sex in a dirty alley somewhere, you want me. Amazing."
"That's about the shape of things," she admits, looking down at the deck. She cannot meet his gaze for fear of the mockery and resentment she will see there. She starts to push herself up from the railing, but his arm snaps out lightning-fast, grabs her by the upper arm and pulls her back.
"Meet me in the galley. After dark." A thrill of lust and fear runs through her. She nods, once. He picks up his bucket and rag and walks away. Her eyes follow him.
He has her over a table and takes her from behind, just like the cabin boy she pretends to be. He pounds into her like he is trying to evict her from his system by force, and though he does not care about her pleasure, she screams his name anyway. When he finishes, she asks, still bent over the table,
"Did it work?" He does not immediately answer. Then he says,
"Tomorrow." It is not a question.
"Yes."
"You know where to find me- swabbing the deck on my hands and knees, as usual. Lovely mental image for you." She shivers because he's right; it is a lovely mental image, and he smirks before he shuts the door, leaving her alone with her breeches around her ankles. So begins their illicit affair.
He is never gentle with her- not gentle at all, not like Will, and she deserves this treatment, she thinks, for what she's done to James. She even craves it, this strange form of absolution that leaves her panting and sore. Sometimes, when he is too drunk or exhausted to push her away, she holds him afterward; he shudders in her embrace and she says, "It's alright," even though it isn't.
Elizabeth has never once seen his face during the act, and when he sneers, "Elizabeth Swann, governor's daughter and cheap gutterslut," she does not bother to contradict him. She is the one to say "Tomorrow," now, and when he tells her to stop meeting him, she says no. She doesn't want to. She is discovering a wild and fierce side of herself that shocks her, and she revels in it.
And though neither of them mention it, on rare occasions she brings him back to her cabin and they fall asleep in a tangle of limbs and sweat, and neither of them have nightmares. It is the only time they don't dream of horrors, when they fall asleep together afterward, so both of them benefit from their arrangement in other ways than the pleasure, though far be it from Elizabeth to ever deny that aspect either. James appears to have an insatiable desire that only she can slake, and she does slake it, both his and hers, every night.
When they finally dock in search of the chest, Elizabeth is first to wield the compass. As James wanders around the sand, the compass swings in his direction and she follows until she realizes what is happening. She finally dumps it in his smirking grasp, saying, "Fine, see if you do any better."
He stands there unmoving as it points unerringly to his left, where she is standing. She looks at him as if to say 'I told you so'. Disgusted, he tosses the compass to Jack, who immediately strides to their right and starts digging. While they stand there glaring at each other, Will appears on the beach and they jump apart guiltily. Elizabeth does not, however, run to him and greet him, nor does she look overjoyed to see him.
"So sorry to disappoint you, Will lad, but your lady-love appears to have decided that the thing she wants most in the world is not, in fact, presently, the heart of Davy Jones or, indeed, you at the present moment, but rather, present over there." Jack tosses him a shovel. "And the quicker we dig this thing up, the quicker you two can duel it out and I can go back to drinking me rum. Savvy?"
Of course, it is at about this time that Davy Jones's crew show up and Will, Jack and James decide that a three-way swordfight over the chest would be a good idea, so Elizabeth never gets a word in edgewise until James runs by her with the chest, yelling
"Don't wait for me!"
But Elizabeth is stubborn and resents being told what to do, so she stands by the lifeboat while Jack and Will are fighting each other over the key, and she does nothing to alert the others when James discovers the heart that Jack has hidden in his jar of dirt. She only climbs in the lifeboat as he starts to row away.
"I'm coming with you."
"Why?"
"You're getting your life back. I'm interested in being part of that."
"Odd, you never seemed interested in it before." She shrugs.
"I'm sick of pirates- save one. And Elizabeth Norrington, admiral's wife, has a nice ring to it."
"What about your fiancé?" She feigns confusion.
"Fiancé? What fiancé?"
"Turner." He looks sourly at her.
"Who?" She flutters her eyelashes innocently.
"You're a cruel woman, Elizabeth Swann."
"Cruel enough for you?" They share a look, and then their lips are meeting across the lifeboat and they are kissing for the first time. It - like everything else in their relationship up to this point- is slightly cruel, passionate, and full of comfort neither of them will ever admit to needing. "I'm not sorry," she says. "About anything."
"No," he says. "Of course not. Take what you can, isn't that right?"
"Yes, if it means getting what I want, which happens to be you."
"You don't love me," he says, ever cynical.
"I love what you do to me. Isn't that close enough?"
"I should throw you overboard."
"But you won't," she says confidently, remembering the compass.
"No," he agrees, "I won't."
They take turns rowing and sleeping, and their unspoken agreement continues- they keep in close physical contact, and never dream. James tries to keep up a bitter and sarcastic front, but his heart isn't in it, not really. He finds himself being gentle with her, and her responding in kind, and they both quickly cover it up with snide remarks.
They talk about what they are going to do once they hand over the heart; they fantasize about the showers they are going to take, the clothes they will be able to wear again, the food they are going to eat. On one memorable occasion, James remarks that he'll never have to drink rum again, but Elizabeth persuades him to reconsider, and the sex that ensues almost tips the lifeboat over. They are ruthless in their critiques of piracy and the accompanying lifestyle, never mentioning that it was piracy that brought them together.
And when they kiss, they are slicing away at their loneliness with tongues like razors.
One year later:
They become a formidable couple, the Norringtons, each more beautiful and cold than the other. They are ruthless in their pursuit of pirates, not pausing even to sleep. But though they are notorious for their cruel tastes and crueler pleasures, no one sees them trying to crawl into each other's skin at night when they hold each other far too tight. No one sees them sleep soundly in each other's arms as they do not when they are apart. And no one hears James whisper "I love you" when he thinks Elizabeth is safely asleep and cannot hear… except Elizabeth, who always smiles to herself, waits a while, and then whispers "I love you" back once she thinks it's safe to do so. And James, who isn't really asleep either, wraps the words up to keep him warm when he is far from home.