Parlait

Elizabeth had watched from the windows of Barbossa’s cabin, but there wasn’t much she could see. She’d relied on her ears, and the listing of The Reproach to let her know what was happening. She’d been part of several raids on The Pearl, but Barbossa was a much different captain than Jack. There was always more talking involved in Jack’s raids, he engaged the other captains and crew in long dialogues, there was sometimes even bargaining. There seemed to always come an unexpected and disorganized moment when guns were fired and swords drawn, and a sloppy, hacking battle would begin. When the ship was boarded, the crew ran haphazardly from compartment to compartment, playing with what was found, stealing food from the galley and eating handfuls of it as they rifled through belongings and cargo, having no order to what was sought, or when, and most of their greatest prizes having been come upon by sheer luck. And after each raid, The Pearl sailed away battered and abused, the ship’s carpenter having much work ahead of him, for Jack wasn’t afraid to tarry alongside an armed vessel. There was a time she called such “bravery.”

Such was not the case with Captain Hector Barbossa. He never bothered with hailing the merchant vessel. The Reproach fired a shot across the merchant’s bow, chain shot followed and announced their intentions; snapping the merchant’s main spar and two of her yardarms, her rigging dismantled before Barbossa’s crew was close enough to throw the first grappling hook. The two ships were equal in size, but not in fire power, The Reproach’s double gundecks a mass of noise and fury beneath Elizabeth’s feet, Barbossa’s voice above the shuffling of men and the shot that rang from the merchant’s swivel guns. She heard the two pound shot strike The Reproach’s gunwale, the sound of wood splintering, but no groaning or crashing that gave Elizabeth any cause for serious concern. The canvas flapped sharply in the wind as Barbossa ordered topsails furled, his helmsman pulling hard to starboard on the Captain’s word. The merchant stumbled up on the waves, began to pitch, signaled for assistance. But in no time the two ships were alongside one another, and Elizabeth heard the grappling hooks being deployed, nearly in unison, like a battalion of archers were at Barbossa’s command. Another feeble shot rang out from the merchant; more wood splintered from the gunwale as the crew of The Reproach belayed her and shortened the lines hitch by hitch.

For a moment Elizabeth didn’t hear Barbossa’s orders shouting, heard nothing of him at all, and a sick feeling that shot or splinters had injured him filled her. And then she heard heavy planks being dropped across to the other ship, and the Captain’s voice ringing out strong and true, directing his men in groups, some to the magazine, some to the galley, some after the five man crew and captain, but most to the hold, instructing them further on what cargo was of most value to them, which to move first, which second and which third. The siege had taken perhaps fifteen minutes, and already plunder was being brought on board The Reproach! Captain Hector Barbossa was the first true pirate Elizabeth had seen in action!

She was surprised not only by how quickly and orderly this raid went, but also by how it lacked the sound of slashing swords and gunfire that she had expected. Guns had gone off, Elizabeth surmised that the crew had not been spared, but overall, this had been like a military drill, everyone knowing their job and place, and their Captain obeyed to every letter. “Leave any women be! And no robbin’ a personal effects,” she heard Barbossa’s voice again as he stepped across the plank to survey the defeated merchant himself. “Let the sea claim what be in the dead men’s pockets.”

Such orders stunned her, for she’d seen Jack rummaging through the pockets of dead sailors, absconding with watches, rings, even sometimes portraitures, but the Captain wouldn’t allow such of his crew. Likewise his order to leave any women untouched impressed her; in the face of how abruptly and brutally he’d taken the merchant vessel, these two gestures made Barbossa seem so very noble; and so very mysterious. This certainly was not part of his legend; no one ever spoke of how Captain Hector Barbossa spared the women and left the dead with respect. She could still hear his voice, he was close by the window, and she craned her neck, pushing the stained glass further open and leaning her head out until she could see him. He stood with his back to her, one leg raised, his foot resting on the fallen main mast, big shoulders pushed out stoutly, sword in his hand, the wind twisting in the ostrich feather a top his hat as he moved about the wounded vessel with a menacing grace, eyes and chin raised as he surveyed his crew. Perhaps he felt her looking at him, for he suddenly turned, seeing her head peeping at him from the cabin window; he smiled, removed his hat and gave her the most suave, sweeping, elegant bow, stood straight again, returned his hat to his head and went back to his work. Elizabeth felt herself shudder, was reminded of why she still called her lover “Captain;” such a man!

It was another hour before she saw him after that, but she could hear him below as crates and cartons were loaded into the hold of The Reproach, everything seemed to have its place, and joining Barbossa’s voice was also that of his first mate’s; no one argued, no one questioned the decisions made by the Captain, everyone worked together, stowed the goods, and awaited the next order. The efficiency and the obedience struck Elizabeth, for life had not been such aboard The Pearl. Jack’s crew liked him well enough; many of them would have considered him a good friend, but that fraternization had perhaps dulled the effectiveness of his authority. Jack’s crew was lax, never once did they snap to the way Barbossa’s crew did, and when Jack gave an order, it would likely be debated. There was a time that Elizabeth admired Jack’s laid back style of handling his ship and his crew, but in the face now of Barbossa’s mastery and competency, she could no longer cast a favorable eye on what she’d become accustomed to aboard The Pearl. How had a man, a sailor, a captain, like Hector Barbossa ever ended up the first mate of a man like Jack Sparrow?

She could hear both the Captain’s heavy footsteps approaching the cabin, and the sound of something heavy being dragged. Elizabeth’s pulse quickened and she felt her skin go flushed, and she realized how anxious she’d been to have him to herself after seeing him in all his glorious action. But what was he dragging with him? She ran to yank open the cabin door, but Barbossa had kept in locked for her safety, his keys now turning in the latch and in no time the white pine planks pushed back to reveal his formidable figure, standing fresh from battle, sweaty and smudged a bit black, but grinning at her proudly. “Told y’not to worry.” He said, and Elizabeth jumped into his arms.

She kissed him, arms wrapped around his neck, throwing so much of herself into him that he had to lean against the doorframe for support, but held her to him nonetheless, as voracious with her tongue and lips as he had been with the merchant they’d just sacked. Elizabeth’s hands slid inside his coat, pulling at the ties of his shirt, wanting to touch his skin, his own hands cupping her buttocks beneath the shirt she wore. But at some point he realized the door was open, and none to her surprise, he quickly set her back upon the deck, pulled away and closed the door.

“I tried to watch you,” Elizabeth said, running her fingers across her lower lip and smiling as her skin tingled from the prickliness of his beard and mustache. Barbossa took off his hat and then the coat, his baldric following that. Her heart leapt, he looked to be planning to stay with her for a while! “You were magnificent!”

Barbossa smiled. “Slow vessel, small crew, limited impediment.”

Jack would have been gloating all over himself had a raid gone that smoothly; in fact, he’d gloated all over himself when they went nothing at all close to smoothly. Her heart beat fast, a sudden rush coming over her as if she’d been storming the merchant vessel at his side, then and there. “Nevertheless, I’m impressed.” Elizabeth smiled, taking a step closer to him, and walking her fingers up his chest, her nipples stiffening and begging the affections of his hands and mouth. “But your modesty is quite…” she looked up at him, lips near his. “Alluring.”

“Be it?” He hadn’t expected such a reaction from her, had left something outside the cabin door to give her, but if she were going to come at him like this, he certainly wouldn’t refuse. He angled his hip more inward, hoping to feel her move her body towards his, and she did, brushing him teasingly, his cock rising a bit with a sudden thump of excitement. He walked into her some, stepping more forward, pushing her back towards his bunk. “Pity it be ‘modesty’ ye require a me.”

Elizabeth smiled, taking a willing step back, Barbossa’s body following hers. Her thighs began to quiver, clitoris already drawn tight within her damp folds. She smiled, toyed with the ties at his shirt, pulling at one until it was almost open. “Your boldness would also be most welcomed, Captain.”

Her invitation was breathy, her playing fingers at his chest furthering the expansion of his cock. Their previous, and most dangerous, encounter entered his head, but Barbossa had no worries of such a thing being repeated, at least, not at this moment. The same feeling as before was not upon him, not upon her. He’d already taken one prize, and now another awaited him. “Me ‘boldness?’” Barbossa smiled, feeling the fabric of his breeches growing tighter. Elizabeth smiled, nodded; parted her lips to draw a ragged breath. “I be rather emboldened at the present, Miss.”

“Are you?” Another smile played across Elizabeth’s lips, she immediately recognized that no trace of whatever it was that nearly killed them both was upon him, or worrying him. Good; she stole a glance down at his groin; she wanted him, was ready for him, but not so much that a little teasing wasn’t in order. He continued to walk into her; the bunk soon met the back of her legs. She looked up at him just as he leaned down to kiss her, put both her hands on his chest and pushed him back a bit. “You’ve just come from pillaging a ship. What’s in it for me?”

Barbossa gave a deep laugh, loving what he saw in her eyes, she was a priceless bit of spirit. “Y’greedy little wench,” he growled at her through his smile, then before she could retort, grabbed her around the waist and kissed her, chewing her lips between his as her tongue made its best effort to slip within his mouth.

Elizabeth felt him hard against her belly; thought of undoing his fly, moving downwards and taking him in her mouth, but her contracting, wet sheath demanded the satisfaction of penetration. “Yes, Captain, I am!” She smiled, falling back into his bunk, leaning back on her hands, and spreading her legs around him, wishing he’d take down his breeches, desiring the sight of his hard cock straining with want of her body, the head glossy with lubrication, big blue veins swelling along the shaft. She lay back further.

Barbossa however stood over her with a wolfish leer, tore his shirt over his head and took her shoulder in his big hand and pulled her towards him, the other hand beginning to undo the buttons of his breeches. “Not like that, girl.” His voice was deep and husky, “on yer knees.” He guided her in turning over, her head to the hull, her hips at his groin, sliding the shirt she wore up to her shoulders as the last button of his breeches slipped through its hole. He took his cock in his hand and gave it a soothing stroke, not ashamed of the gasp his own touch elicited, set his fingers within Elizabeth’s open slit and gave her the same pleasure. “C’mon like a whore,” he told her in a rasping whisper as she moaned and moved against his fingers. “Be fucked like a whore!” He drew back his hand and gave her buttocks a good, resounding slap.

Elizabeth jumped, but then moaned, wondering if she could somehow earn that punishment again, the sting of her skin making her sheath contract, but he was too eager. It wasn’t so very many years ago that such words and actions would have insulted, hurt and shocked her, but now Elizabeth writhed beneath them, pushed herself into the Captain’s need as the bulging head speared open her channel, and sank within her depths. She sighed and groaned, his cock somehow feeling longer now, gliding within her wetness as he took her by the hips and began to thrust, his shaft in constant motion against her upper wall, the sensations making her squirm as that curious spot of passion began to grow within her. She couldn’t be still, began to rotate her hips around as he fucked her, shaking her body with his drives, deep satisfied grunts escaping him as his long, hard strokes pummeled the responsive little mass inside her into a billowing concentration of satisfaction and gluttony. Did he truly fuck a whore like this? They must have lined up for him! “Taking me like this,” she gasped for breath, groaning as she tried to speak, just wanting to feel this pleasure forever as it roved through her body. “It feels so very good!”

“Then show me ye want me,” he growled lowly, could feel how she was enjoying this, and knowing how to increase that pleasure. This was by far his favorite way of having a woman, allowed him to thrust as deep and hard as he pleased, the control all his, made him so aware of the stout, strong man he was, and if Elizabeth’s wanton cries were of any indication, made her well aware of his masculine glory as well. But he could give her more, if she could take it, and he so hoped she could. He ran his hand the length of her spine, her back bowing obediently under his touch, and then he pressed forcefully between her trembling shoulder blades. “Lean down, girl. Tits to the sheets, arse up,” he sounded as if he gave orders, standing at the helm, but then, he was. “Give me somethin’ to fuck!”

Such demands! Such words! Jack sometimes ground out the word “whore” when he fucked her, and she’d enjoyed it immensely, but the Captain had a much more colorful, lusty, dogmatic demeanor that made Elizabeth’s head spin, her heart race, and she swore she may lose her soul to the sensation. She didn’t have to think about complying, before she knew it, her nipples were pleasantly buried within the sheets of his bunk, her forehead resting upon her forearms, hands clasped as if in prayer, while Barbossa gripped her raised hips roughly and thrust into her with even more rampancy. Elizabeth could hear the scuff of his boots against the deck as he leveraged for more traction; he’d demanded more ‘to fuck,’ he had it, and he did! He felt so much bigger, bigger even than Jack, but he fit her, and he filled her, so deep within her, so very very deep; the turbulence set forth over her now even more divine. There wasn’t a place within her that he touched that didn’t tingle and seem to wrinkle up into tight little knots of pleasure. All her channel was aflame with fruition so primal it was as if that spongy little spot of sensitivity enveloped his cock as a whole; and the Captain hesitated not to further stoke her fire.

“That be good there, missy!” he groaned through clenched teeth, the rolled tail of the shirt she wore wrenched in his hand in between her shoulder blades as he pulled back on both it and her hip, holding her true and steady as he primed his spastic cock in and out of her, faster and faster with more force and urgency. His organ felt swollen enough to split open, relief seemed to lie just a little deeper within her, beckoned to him, nerve endings alive with such hasty need from the cleft in his cockhead to his hardened nipples that felt pinched in a vice. She was so slick that her juices ran between them where they were joined, his balls slapping audibly against her thighs as he rode her. Only one thing could make this better than it was. “Cum for me, ‘Lizabeth!” He nearly shouted, his hand sliding from her hip around to her stomach and dropping lower as she squirmed with the ticklish sensation. Her clitoris was so engorged that it took no time to find it, and at the instant his fingers brushed it, Elizabeth shrieked and bucked like an unbroken filly. Barbossa groaned, began to circle the crazed little knot with his finger as Elizabeth about dissolved in the severity of the delight. “Haul me up and wring me dry!”

Her body reacted as if on cue, the added touch to her hypersensitive clitoris more than Elizabeth could bear, and before she knew it orgasm surged forth, galloping within her as though it had a thousand hooves, wracking her with such strong contractions that she couldn’t suck air into her lungs, her jaw clenched, nails dug into the mattress as her most feminine of attributes heaved the most unladylike of incursions upon the Captain’s desperate body, her sheath slamming shut around his cock and holding it tightly as both of them shivered and gasped. Each time her body strained Elizabeth could feel him better, the shape of his rounded tip, the throb of the veins in his shaft, she even felt the tremors in his groin and stomach as Barbossa covered her spasming body with his own. All her muscles vibrated and shook, the hum of intense pleasure carrying her until her strength began to give out, but still she fought to hold his cock tight within her.

For a moment Barbossa imagined that the cleft in his organ swelled open enough to absorb her passion within him, it mixing with his own, and seconds later combusting into an eruption of cavernous depths, shaking him as he drove himself into her as far her body would allow. His breathing was frantic, muscles twitching and jerking involuntarily, balls surging with their emptying force, like the tide going out. He could feel himself inside her, jamming the head of his cock against the rounded wall that stopped him from thrusting any further within her, his semen christening her at her deepest point.

Elizabeth collapsed, let him hold her hips to his groin as he slammed himself home and came, did her best to shove herself into his climax and feel him deep inside her. And she did feel him deep inside her, swore she felt his hot seed bathing the neck of her womb, swore she felt her body drinking it up, drawing it in, felt it seeping into her soft center, dancing inside her with something that fluttered coyly. Her body was tired, but there was a chase afoot within her, she could feel it. No, it couldn’t be, not again. But she felt it. No. With great acceleration, she pushed it from her mind.

She could have enjoyed the close contact and the snug feel of his cock within her for a few more moments, but Barbossa gave a heavy sigh, his once rigid body relaxing, and he pulled himself from her, tumbling into the bunk beside her as she rolled over into his arms. He kissed her, ran his hand the length of her body, his fingers trailing through the dark curls between her legs, making her legs jump as his head then bent to her breasts, kissing each of her nipples and sucking each one lightly. For now she was sated, but it still felt good enough to moan her pleasure to him, and trail her hand down his own body to his softening cock, she loved handling him, feeling him in her grasp. She gripped him gently; the Captain winced, set teeth to her nipple sharply, but allowed her to continue. He was no where near the size or firmness she’d known moments prior, but Elizabeth still stroked him, wet from her body, rubbing her secretions into the soft skin of his shrinking organ.

He hated to admit it, but her touch became too much to bear, his cock irritable and delicate so soon after climax. “Elizabeth,” he gasped, let her nipple slip from his mouth, wincing again, but charmed by her hunger for him. “Y’might give a man five minutes to rest.” He smirked.

She smiled back and kissed him, giving his flaccid organ a gentle pat before leaving it alone. “Just putting you at ease, Captain.” She kissed him again, his arms slipping around her and holding her close as he took over the osculation, drawing away her breath and ran his tongue lightly between her lips. Her heart beat against his, his taste heavy in her mouth, again she felt something moving inside her, barely noticeable, but something smaller even than she could imagine was afloat within her, seeking port. No! She opened her eyes; it was easier not to feel it when her eyes were open. She was in need of a distraction. “So, would I have made a fine enough whore?” She smiled against the Captain’s lips.

Barbossa laughed. The Elizabeth Swann he’d taken aboard those few years ago would never have asked; would have become sick at the thought. “Girl, in me life I’ve had whores by the score, a few honest women, one countess and even a goddess,” he paused to stroke her face. “They all be trailin’ y’by many a nautical mile.”

“Do you mean that?” Her smile and the honor she felt surprised her. Oddly enough, being a good lover was never something she’d given much thought to. But if the Captain thought so, then she took a very swollen pride in it!

“Y’be presently strewn naked and soppin’ with me legacy in me bed,” Barbossa smiled. “Naught to be gained lyin’ to y’now, girl.”

So he did mean it? She was beaming, but then one of the words he’d said drew her attention away from her new found fame, away even from lingering on the fact that his ‘legacy’ was swimming within her. “Goddess?” She’d always wondered. “You and Calypso?”

Barbossa shook his head. “Me and Tia Dalma, ‘twere different entities.”

She should have perhaps felt jealous, and maybe she was a little bit. “Did you love her?”

Barbossa sighed, sat up, did up his fly again, not sure this conversation was a wise one. “Y’can’t sail the sea without lovin’ her, Elizabeth.”

She nodded, seeing his point. But that hadn’t answered her question. “I mean did you—“

“Be y’sure yer in want to know?”

“You’re acting suspiciously.”

“Because I know women, and no matter what I say ‘bout this, yer likely to be galled and hateful.”

“So you did love her?” Elizabeth sat up as well. There was sternness in her voice she hadn’t expected to hear herself. Yes, now Elizabeth had to admit, she was jealous.

Barbossa rolled his eyes. “No!” He said emphatically. Women…always more jealous than men, and always more vicious in pursuit of said fervor; however, a smile pulled at his lips. Yes, Elizabeth very definitely loved him! “And mark me words here and now. No! I loved her not. Believe it, or the tale ends here.”

“Fine,” she was too curious now, would have said she believed him even if she didn’t. But, she was more inclined to believe the Captain was being honest; and perhaps she’d know for certain by the story’s end. “You didn’t love her.”

“No,” he said again, as if sealing it. “I took pity upon a deity newly bound to human form, shared the pleasure a her company…and the pleasure a mine with her…”Barbossa paused, watched and waited for Elizabeth’s eyes to narrow, but they didn’t, she was more intrigued. “Dare I say it, she flourished a certain fondness for me.”

“She became fond of you?” Elizabeth laughed, disbelieving that more so than she disbelieved that he held no affections for the goddess in question.

Barbossa eyed her as if to ask why she, of all women, thought it odd that he could pierce a woman’s heart and have her hold him dear. Elizabeth buckled under his accusing stare, gave a slight giggle, then leaned forward and kissed his cheek. He turned his head until his lips captured hers, and he kissed her with a fury that left no doubt that a goddess bound to human structure may have formed some attachment to him. “May free and mighty Calypso sink this ship and all aboard if’n I be wrong ‘bout that.” He added. Both waited, eyeing the hull, listening for the roar of a great wave, or for the sea itself to part and pull them down. But there was nothing. If anything, the water seemed to go flatter, calmer, The Reproach gliding along more smoothly now. Barbossa looked back to Elizabeth with a triumphant expression.

She should have been angry at his smugness, should have felt her jealousy surging, but she didn’t. Instead, the green eyed monster evaporated into as sense of pride that she loved a man that even a goddess had looked upon with favor. “So, how did you manage such a thing?”

“I was the first man to touch her.” He smiled.

“But what about Jones?”

“Jones ne’er laid a hand, nor tentacle, upon her human form.”

Elizabeth was quiet a moment, thinking. Then she smiled, wishing he’d tell her more after her next assertion, but knowing that the Captain would keep to his decorum on such a matter. “You were the first human male she knew in her human form? You took her maidenhead?”

“A bit too tenderly and lovingly as the consequences suggest.” He sighed, but couldn’t exactly hide how pleased with himself he still was at having seduced Tia Dalma into his bed all those years ago. But it hadn’t been only about his lusts then, he’d always been alive with strategies. “She was a powerful woman to have on me side, showing her that being trapped within a woman’s body was not without its pleasures was a small price to pay. And then some years later, I be dead—and of all the dead sea dogs she coulda resurrected to retrieve Sparrow, she come after me.” He smiled again. “She couldn’t let me rest, not even in death.” Barbossa laughed.

Elizabeth smiled; it did suddenly make sense…along with why the Captain had appeared so jovial when next she saw him in Tia Dalma’s shack. She leaned close and Barbossa opened his arm to her, she melted into him with a happy sigh; such a man, a better man than even Jack. “I thank you, then, Captain, for showing her such comfort and passion.” She looked up at Barbossa and thought of how he might have been with Tia Dalma the first time he touched her, and it warmed her to think it. She nuzzled her head into his chest and hugged her arms around him. “Other wise, I would be quite lonely at the moment.” For a moment she closed her eyes and thought how fortunate she was to know Captain Hector Barbossa the way she did, her arm unconsciously falling across her abdomen, cradling it; she felt something, something that couldn’t be.

Barbossa smiled, stroked her hair and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Told y’she’s nothin’ to be jealous of, girl.” He whispered, thought of what he’d left outside the door for the goddess that now lay in his arms. He should give her gift now, but then her smirked again, unable to suppress his devilish nature. “The mermaid. Now there be somethin’ to be jealous of!”