Adrift

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Okay, last chapter for today...but you've all been so wonderful, I feel the need to reward you with at least one steamy scene! :) Thanks, Elena, for your latest comments. The bike seemed to suit Hector perfectly - vintage machine, but with class and power. Yes, Calypso has a grand plan...but so do the bad guys!

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Barbossa’s mind was troubled as he returned to his ship, done as he was with dispatching more crew to the wreck and ensuring the security of the island.

The treachery had caught him off guard. Had he not practiced of bit of exactly that himself, though, and against his own captain to boot? Perhaps it was fate’s way of evening out the score. Truth was he’d have been less surprised to see it come from one of his men. They were pirates, after all, no matter what guise they’d accepted for now.

But Marilyn? He’d underestimated the bitter resolve of the broken heart, a hurt nursed for years that had festered and morphed into a source of hate. It had been there for decades, he supposed, but it took the right mark to draw it out.

Guilty he was for forgetting that Marilyn was a woman at all, for not forcing her to find a life ashore when she’d been young enough. Her love for him – yes, he knew that was what tied her to them – had robbed her of a life with one as could have appreciated her virtues. Instead he’d allowed her to stay, had taken her for granted each day she gave of herself. T’was his own thoughtlessness as had caused the betrayal.

He knew something of unrequited longing – had he himself not lost Elizabeth once already? But did he ever harbour that same resentment towards William Turner? Nay, he had decided that his was not a life suited to that kind of pairing, had not begrudged her the happiness he’d been sure she’d find with someone closer to her own age.

Marilyn had been right, though. Elizabeth Swann may have left the Pearl to begin her life ashore those hundreds of years before, but the sight of her upon the gunwale, rousing the Brethren into action that fateful day against the East India Trading Company …ah, that had been when he knew he truly loved her. And these many years had he kept that picture of her in his heart and silently mourned the loss of what might have been.

He found his way across the deck of his Corazón by moonlight and memory; the only illumination was coming from portholes of his aft stateroom. The girl was likely preparing for bed and although he was sorely tempted to search her out, the timing no longer seemed right for seduction. Best leave it for another day when he was less inclined to brood.

Hector went instead to the guest quarters, slightly smaller than those he kept for himself but no less opulent for that. As he entered the room, the smell of soil, gasoline and sweat emanating from his clothes quickly became overwhelming. He wrinkled his nose in disgust – a shower was certainly in order, both to bathe and to relieve the day’s tension from his shoulders.
Access to clean water and soap was a luxury of the modern world he had come to appreciate greatly.

He tossed his jacket onto the bed and sat down to undo his boots, stretching his toes in relief as he pulled off his socks. The footwear he slid beneath the cot before he stood and stripped off his filthy t-shirt. That was bundled into a ball and tossed it into a corner along with the rag from his head.

Hector ran his fingers through his hair, feeling it fall loose against his bare back. Getting cumbersome, it was – time to either take the shears to it or start braiding it. Perhaps if he asked kindly, Elizabeth would do that for him in the morning. Oh, he could certainly braid it himself, but it would bring so much more pleasure if it were her fingers as were doing the plaiting. When was the last time a woman had wanted to touch his hair? He wasn’t sure that any had ever paid it any attention at all. Elizabeth had done so on their bike ride and while it wasn’t exactly sexual, it was intimate. He’d liked that.

He paused in disrobing and wondered what she was doing, only a few feet away in his stateroom. Likely tucked under the covers and fast asleep. Long legs stretched out over freshly-laundered sheets, a fan of sun-kissed hair spread like a halo above her head, a perfect mouth parted slightly in repose…

Maybe he had been too hasty in his decision to leave her be.

He took a step towards the door but made himself stop. Better to let her rest; the day had been a long and draining one already. He’d promised her he’d have his way, but given the way the night had ended, he was no longer sure it would be wise to press his luck.

His body had a different opinion about how to proceed, however, and was doing a fine job of getting its point across. Already could he feel the throb between his legs and the flush across his face that forewarned of his growing readiness. When his mind turned once again to Elizabeth spread wantonly across his bed, he knew that there would be no escaping his body’s demands. Hector sighed; this was not the first time he’d had to resort to hoisting his own colours, so to speak, but he’d held better hope than that for this evening. Be that as it may, the thought of what they might have done would have to suffice for now.

He tugged his belt open and slid the zipper of his fly slowly down, slipping his hand into his pants to stroke his stirring cock. His own touch was fine but it would have been so much better had it been her dainty fingers doing the exploring.
He felt himself twitch at the thought and he circled his hand lightly over the crotch of his fitted jersey briefs, massaging the growing stiffness within. His jeans fell to the floor with a thump, the weight of the fabric and leather more than his slender hips could support without the belt. He kicked them impatiently into the corner along with his other clothes.

It was good to be rid of the burden and he took full advantage, spreading his legs wider and bracing himself as he leaned back against the teak paneling of the cabin wall. It felt cool on his back but did little to sooth his hot skin. Hector tilted his head back and closed his eyes, tucking his thumbs beneath the waistband of his shorts and pulling them down little by little until his burgeoning erection sprung free. He shifted his hips and eased the underwear past the muscles of his thighs, letting them slide to his ankles before he pushed them out of the way.

He held himself gently at first, using just the tips of his fingers to slide up and down his thickening shaft. If only she was here…aye, he’d have her kneeling in supplication by now, transfixed by all he had to give her. Maybe she would be impatient, tormented too long with the thought of how he tasted…maybe she’d need to take him into her mouth right away.

Too big he’d be for her, he was sure, but those sweet full lips would open and the lace of her eyelashes would flutter against her cheeks as she took him anyway, deep as she could, into the warm wetness. He drew in a shuddering breath as the vision played itself out in his head.

Her tongue would flick against the tender skin of the very tip and her teeth would just barely graze the underside. “Aye, that’s it…” he moaned, his grip getting tighter and the thrusts coming a bit faster. With his free hand, he smoothed a path towards his nipple and squeezed hard. The dichotomy of pain and pleasure caused even more blood to surge to his cock and turned it solid as stone as he pushed his hips forward to meet each stroke of his fist.

In his mind’s eye Elizabeth would be unable to stand the feel of her clothing against her own fevered body and as she worked him eagerly, she’d impatiently push whatever she had on away from her shoulders. The garments would slither downward and gather around her small waist, revealing her soft peachy skin an inch at a time.

Her trembling hand would follow them and then slide between her thighs into the slickness that would have pooled there from her own arousal. He gasped at the thought of her fingers moving within that most dark and wondrous place, at the whimpers she’d make as she chased her own release. He could almost smell her need.

A trickle of sweat ran from his brow and down along one cheek, tickling as it trailed down his burning face. Hector’s fingers clenched more tightly and his pulse was pounding, so loudly that he could almost hear it. And then he could hear it, but the pounding was really more of a knocking, and it was coming from the other side of the door.

“Hector? Are you awake?”

He instantly stopped all movement, not from fear of discovery but because the intrusion of Elizabeth’s voice into his fantasy almost took him over the edge completely. Slowly he released his hold on himself and pushed away from the wall, coming back to a full stand on legs that weren’t quite steady.

“I am, but I’m in need of a moment to meself,” he answered, his voice like gravel. Even without further encouragement his manhood strained anxiously upwards, almost as if recognizing that relief waited on the other side of the door.

There was silence for a heartbeat or two before she spoke again. “I thought tonight…I mean, is something wrong that you wouldn’t want to…? No, you know what? It’s okay – it s been a rough night. If you’re not really feeling up to it…”

He rolled his eyes – t’was not likely he could feel any more ‘up to it’ than he already did. “Hempen halters, woman! Have some patience! Don’t be readin’ reluctance into the fact that I just need a bleedin’ minute!”

There was a hurt-sounding huff from the hall. “Well, be sure to take all the time you need, Captain.” He heard her move off and slam shut the door to his quarters.

Looked as though he had yet another tender feeling to mend, but he’d not be capable of such until his own situation had been resolved one way or another. Hector breathed deeply, willing his heart to slow and his ardor to settle, but sheer force of will seemed to have little effect. He scowled down at his cock, still bobbing somewhat hopefully towards his navel. It would be a shower after all, then, ‘though not one so warm as he first had planned.


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Hector tightened the cotton cord on his drawstring pants as he walked down the hallway. He didn’t savor being cold, but at the very least he was clean and clear-headed once more. There was still the gleam of light coming from beneath the door of his cabin; unlikely it was, he figured, that Elizabeth would have been able to find sleep in the midst of such ill humour. Hopeful he was that her restlessness would be to his advantage.

He rapped on the door and for a moment there was no sound from within. He imagined her lying in the captain’s bed, her arms cinched angrily across her breasts and her brow furrowed like that of a petulant child. He chuckled under his breath at the thought and crossed his own arms over his bare chest, hearing her finally pad across the floor towards the door.

It opened just a few inches, enough that he could see one side of her face alone. Her soft brown eye was narrowed in anger at first, ‘though as she raked her gaze over him, her disposition seemed to thaw slightly.

“Captain Barbossa,” she greeted coldly as she opened the door a bit more, lifting her little chin all high and mighty as though she were greeting some simpering servant lad. Her hair lay in damp tendrils around her shoulders, draped over the knee-length black t-shirt she must have found amongst his belongings.

He stepped back and bowed, keeping a keen eye upon her as he did so. “Miss Swann. Apologies fer me short temper when first ye came callin’. I’ve no excuse for me discourtesy. ‘Tis me fondest hope that yer inclined towards forgiveness and would allow me in to show ye the depth of me remorse.”

Elizabeth’s eyes glittered while she tried valiantly to look disapproving. “I’m not entirely sure it’s appropriate for me to grant you access to my rooms, Captain. We are, after all, unchaperoned.”

Hector unfolded his arms and laughed heartily, steadily pushing the door ajar with a determined hand. “I ne’er was one fer an audience, missy.”

She gave up trying to hold it closed and as he stepped into the room, she moved slowly back. A blush was already rising in her cheeks and he found the modesty beguiling. It was something she’d soon learn to do without.

He glanced ‘round the room and soon came to understand why she’d been anxious when he didn’t return directly to join her – she’d gone out of her way to set an alluring scene. He smiled, moved that such was important to her.

The cabin’s illumination came not from electricity, but instead from the small candle lanterns he always had stowed for emergencies. The tiny flames glimmered off the gleaming brass fixtures and cast a soft golden glow that flowed over the rich wood.

A bottle of his finest shiraz had been opened and two cut crystal goblets laid out on the bureau, the wine of a red so deep that it almost looked black. Elizabeth had even gone so far as to lay out bits of fruit and cheese upon a silver plate. He strode over and picked up a slice of tart green apple, sliding it into his mouth as she watched hopefully for his reaction.

He chewed thoughtfully but then stopped as he stared at her, realization dawning. What she’d done here…the lighting, the wine, the food…it was as if she was replaying that very first night upon the Black Pearl. He’d been so determined to impress her then, wanting her to see him as more than a dark and ragged man. There’d been fine food, rich wine and dim lights to disguise his ragged visage. It had been meant to be a gentle approach to assure her of his sophistication…of his humanity.

“What’s wrong?” Elizabeth asked, disappointment on her lovely face at his lack of response.

Hector approached her slowly, looking deeply into her eyes. Did she understand what she’d done? Had some distant memory materialized out of time and compelled her to recreate the setting of their very first time alone? Perhaps there was a way to test the theory, should she be amenable.

He bent and slowly kissed the pout from her lips, the juice from the apple making her taste better yet. “Nothing wrong,” he assured her. “Just thinking, was all, that there be one last thing I’ll ask of ye before I make it so ye’ll forget ever havin’ had another man.”

Her brow smoothed as her tempting smile returned. “Not so lofty an ambition as you might think, Hector. There have been very few against whom to compare.”

“Be that as it may,” he continued, pleased that she’d not squandered her charms upon the undeserving, “will ye indulge me in this?” He kissed her again, flicking his tongue along her bottom lip and eliciting a gasp of sweet breath against his face.

“Whatever you ask,” she replied, her voice low as she reached up to smooth his own lip with her finger, closing her eyes as he drew it into his mouth and bit at it gently. “If it pleases you, I’ll do it.”

He drew both of her hands up to his mouth and kissed them, then released her to crouch down beside the bed. From the very bottom drawer he drew a heavy wooden box and used his palms to smooth away some of the dust that had gathered there over the years.

Of all the treasures he’d saved before the Pearl had slipped beneath the waves, this one alone had remained precious in his sight. A prince’s ransom he’d paid to have it restored and preserved, and ‘though he’d not looked upon it for nigh on half a century now, knowing it lay beneath where he slept at night had given him a tie to Elizabeth that had spanned time.

Still kneeling, he looked up to her and offered her the box. “Somethin’ more suited to the occasion than me t-shirt…NO!” he said, stopping her before she could open the box. She looked at him, startled. “Please wait. Take it with ye to the guest cabin, ye can don the garment there. I don’t want ye to see it ‘til yer alone.”

Her smile was playful and her eyebrow arched. “Does this hold thigh-high leather boots and a whip? Or perhaps a French maid’s costume?”

He shook his head slowly, unable to laugh at the jest. Her own smile faded when she saw he was in earnest about the contents of the box. “Okay. I’ll be right back.”

She disappeared into the hallway and the door snicked closed behind her. Hector sat back upon his heels, suddenly wondering if he’d made a wise decision. If she did remember, he might have let his one chance to have her slip from between his fingers. Where would that leave him then?

Likely alone and resorting to self-pleasure, the voice in his head answered mockingly.

Hector pulled himself to a stand once more and poured out a glass of wine for each of them. Of his he took a long and steady draught, suddenly in need of some liquid fortification. The wine wound a long warm trail down his throat, and the taste of berries and oak lingering in his mouth. He licked at the remnants on his lips and poured himself another, settling himself uneasily into a chair to await the girl’s return.

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A taste of what is to come...tune in again soon!