New Fic: Firsts
First, deep apologize for the absence of the cut on my last post. I should know better than to post at the end of a wretched week, operating on approximately three brain cells. But thank you to those who responded positively; so glad you liked it, and I hope you like this one, in which the smut is right out there in the open.
Title: Firsts, in three chapters
Author: Phoenix_9664
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: No one owns J&E, but on this temporal plane Disney has custody. I merely drown my sorrows in them.
Firsts, part 1.
The Pearl cuts through the smooth seas toward the sunset. Jack holds the wheel with one hand, eying the seabirds dipping through a bank of cloud. He hums intermittently, an old shanty Teague used to sing by the fire in the Cove. It has been a long, calm day, sunny and benevolent.
Elizabeth, on her way to the cabin, stops on the main deck and looks up at him. She loves the plant of his boots, the curve of thigh beneath the stiff linen breeches. She loves his hair dancing in the wind.
When he spies her, his eyes smile before his mouth. She mounts the stairs, closes the gap between them, and comes around behind him, slipping her arms around his chest, sinking her head onto his back. The wind catches their hair and tangles it, light and dark.
“I wish we could die like this,” she says.
“Now there’s a lovely thought. Why is it when you’re around, my death becomes a consideration?”
“I wish we could be here, on the Pearl, in the wind and the sunset, and just melt into each other and blow away.” She moves beside him and circles his left arm with both of her own.
“Very poetic. More likely we’ll meet our ends in a tavern in Tortuga. Even more likely I’ll expire all by me onesie while attempting some tremendous feat in the bedroom with you at the age of ninety.”
“I’ll probably die of it first,” she smiles.
“Simultaneous expiration. How’s that for romance?”
“Well,” she purrs, turning her lips to his ear, “we’ve accomplished le petit mort simultaneously on several occasions; why not le grand?”
“Why not, indeed?” Grinning. “Shall we give it a try this evening?”
“Thanks, but I’d prefer to remain alive for a while.”
“Would you, now?”
“Yes, Captain. I’m enjoying my life.”
“Are you?” He smiles, looking forward.
“I am indeed. And you?”
“You know me, Lizzie. If I’m not enjoying it, I don’t do it.”
It’s not what she wants to hear, of course. What she wants to hear is that he never knew real happiness until he found her. She must remind herself-often-not to wish Jack spoke, or thought, or felt like other men.
She sends one hand down to cup his rear “That’s why I like to be around when you’re doing something you-“ She squeezes, hard. “--particularly enjoy.”
“Oi! Hard to do it when you’re not around, love. I mean, it can be done, but not nearly so enjoyably.”
“Oh, well, I’m glad to hear that, Captain. Nice to know I’m useful.”
“Extremely useful. Inescapably useful.” He looks into her eyes, full of the dying sun. “One might even say indispensible.” He brushes a strand of hair from her face and tucks it behind her ear. “Essential.”
She reaches an arm around his neck and he turns his mouth to hers, covering her lips, opening them, sinking his tongue into her soft mouth. He lets go the wheel to hold her, and the Pearl is on her own, coursing steadily toward nightfall.
~ ~ ~
At sunset, Jack comes down to the cabin hungry. He throws open the door, stalks in, and freezes. Elizabeth stands naked next to a bucket, into which she has dipped the cloth she is running down her arm. She freezes, and their eyes lock. He closes the doors behind him without breaking the gaze, and then gestures with his chin. “Go on.” And after a beat, she continues. She washes a foot, then up the ankle and over the calf, around and behind the knee, then up the thigh. She turns away slightly and moves the cloth in circles over her rear, as Jack’s breath quickens. She turns back toward him and raises the cloth to her shoulder, drawing it down over her breast, over her stomach, and between her legs, watching him. She runs the tip of her tongue over her upper lip.
“Witch,” he whispers, and goes for her.
“I’m wet!” she protests, as he seizes her waist.
“Oh, darling, I’m counting on it.”
He deposits her on the bed, on her back, and begins to lick the rivulets of water from her skin-her shoulder, her breast, her stomach. Before he gets much past her hips, neither of them can wait, and then he is inside her, and then he is driving into her hard and fast, both of them gasping, Elizabeth crying out with each collision of their hips. The sharp pleasure rises and rises and crests and breaks over them both. He gives one sharp cry. She buries her face in his shoulder to muffle her sounds. He clasps her to him, rocking against her as they quiet.
“Jesus, woman,” he gasps. “All I wanted was me supper.”
“Starting with the sweets,” she murmurs.
Title: Firsts, in three chapters
Author: Phoenix_9664
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: No one owns J&E, but on this temporal plane Disney has custody. I merely drown my sorrows in them.
Firsts, part 1.
The Pearl cuts through the smooth seas toward the sunset. Jack holds the wheel with one hand, eying the seabirds dipping through a bank of cloud. He hums intermittently, an old shanty Teague used to sing by the fire in the Cove. It has been a long, calm day, sunny and benevolent.
Elizabeth, on her way to the cabin, stops on the main deck and looks up at him. She loves the plant of his boots, the curve of thigh beneath the stiff linen breeches. She loves his hair dancing in the wind.
When he spies her, his eyes smile before his mouth. She mounts the stairs, closes the gap between them, and comes around behind him, slipping her arms around his chest, sinking her head onto his back. The wind catches their hair and tangles it, light and dark.
“I wish we could die like this,” she says.
“Now there’s a lovely thought. Why is it when you’re around, my death becomes a consideration?”
“I wish we could be here, on the Pearl, in the wind and the sunset, and just melt into each other and blow away.” She moves beside him and circles his left arm with both of her own.
“Very poetic. More likely we’ll meet our ends in a tavern in Tortuga. Even more likely I’ll expire all by me onesie while attempting some tremendous feat in the bedroom with you at the age of ninety.”
“I’ll probably die of it first,” she smiles.
“Simultaneous expiration. How’s that for romance?”
“Well,” she purrs, turning her lips to his ear, “we’ve accomplished le petit mort simultaneously on several occasions; why not le grand?”
“Why not, indeed?” Grinning. “Shall we give it a try this evening?”
“Thanks, but I’d prefer to remain alive for a while.”
“Would you, now?”
“Yes, Captain. I’m enjoying my life.”
“Are you?” He smiles, looking forward.
“I am indeed. And you?”
“You know me, Lizzie. If I’m not enjoying it, I don’t do it.”
It’s not what she wants to hear, of course. What she wants to hear is that he never knew real happiness until he found her. She must remind herself-often-not to wish Jack spoke, or thought, or felt like other men.
She sends one hand down to cup his rear “That’s why I like to be around when you’re doing something you-“ She squeezes, hard. “--particularly enjoy.”
“Oi! Hard to do it when you’re not around, love. I mean, it can be done, but not nearly so enjoyably.”
“Oh, well, I’m glad to hear that, Captain. Nice to know I’m useful.”
“Extremely useful. Inescapably useful.” He looks into her eyes, full of the dying sun. “One might even say indispensible.” He brushes a strand of hair from her face and tucks it behind her ear. “Essential.”
She reaches an arm around his neck and he turns his mouth to hers, covering her lips, opening them, sinking his tongue into her soft mouth. He lets go the wheel to hold her, and the Pearl is on her own, coursing steadily toward nightfall.
~ ~ ~
At sunset, Jack comes down to the cabin hungry. He throws open the door, stalks in, and freezes. Elizabeth stands naked next to a bucket, into which she has dipped the cloth she is running down her arm. She freezes, and their eyes lock. He closes the doors behind him without breaking the gaze, and then gestures with his chin. “Go on.” And after a beat, she continues. She washes a foot, then up the ankle and over the calf, around and behind the knee, then up the thigh. She turns away slightly and moves the cloth in circles over her rear, as Jack’s breath quickens. She turns back toward him and raises the cloth to her shoulder, drawing it down over her breast, over her stomach, and between her legs, watching him. She runs the tip of her tongue over her upper lip.
“Witch,” he whispers, and goes for her.
“I’m wet!” she protests, as he seizes her waist.
“Oh, darling, I’m counting on it.”
He deposits her on the bed, on her back, and begins to lick the rivulets of water from her skin-her shoulder, her breast, her stomach. Before he gets much past her hips, neither of them can wait, and then he is inside her, and then he is driving into her hard and fast, both of them gasping, Elizabeth crying out with each collision of their hips. The sharp pleasure rises and rises and crests and breaks over them both. He gives one sharp cry. She buries her face in his shoulder to muffle her sounds. He clasps her to him, rocking against her as they quiet.
“Jesus, woman,” he gasps. “All I wanted was me supper.”
“Starting with the sweets,” she murmurs.