Unforgivable

I have to give a big thank you to TJ for her input with this one!! Jack however is not very grateful. In fact he's still sulking. Poor Jack!!!
And to Freelke - hope I didn't make you wait too long, hun!!
Thanks again to all those who left such lovely reviews. You make all those hours of typing when I should be sleeping worthwhile!! Hope you all enjoy...


Anguished howls echoed through the cabin.

“God it hurts! Make it stop! Please make it stop!”

“Shh….nearly there….just a little more...”

“Owwww! No more! Please!”

“ Won’t be long now. It's almost over. Shhh.... just breathe and let me help you.”

“Aaaargh! No! Get away from me! It’s all your fault! Don’t…don’t touch me…just don’t touch me again...ever!”

“You know you don’t mean that. Hold still!”

“Bloody …Owwww! ...well…do!.”

“There! At last. Look. It’s out.”

Elizabeth looked up at her white-faced, trembling lover and shook her head.

“You’re such a baby, Jack. It wasn’t that big.”

She held up the tiny sliver of wood to show him.

“S’not the size that matters, tis where it was…” he whimpered.

“Perhaps you should consider such things next time you get the urge to take me over a barrel then,” she scolded, climbing to her feet. “You can pull your breeches up now. I think you’ll live.”

He shot her a suspicious look then looked down at his exposed crotch.

“Still bloody sore. Are y’sure it’s out?”

“I can have another look if you want me too…”

“No!” One hand shot down to cover himself, the other reaching down to tug at his breeches. “S’enough. Don’t. Just…don’t touch me anymore.”

“Oh for heaven’s sake!”

He shuffled to his desk, feet planted wide apart; wincing with each careful step.

“I could help…”

“NO! No thank you Miss Swann. You’ve helped more than enough. Yer not puttin’ those evil, pain-inducin’ hands of yours anywhere near ‘im. Keep away. Shoo!”

Elizabeth made an odd choking sound.

“S’not funny!”

“Of course not Jack,” she spluttered. Tears spurted from her eyes and she clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Will ye stop bloody laughing at me?”

She risked a quick glance at his furious face. It was too much. Clutching her aching sides, tears pouring down her cheeks, she slid to the floor in a helpless, giggling heap.

For a minute Jack glowered at her. But the sound of her laughter – even at his own expense – forced an indulgent smile despite his best efforts to look fierce.

He lowered himself cautiously into a chair and waited patiently until she regained her composure.

“Evil wench!” he told her fondly.

“Baby!” she grinned, crawling to his side and draping her arms across his knees.

“Close enough!” Hastily he shoved a protective hand between his legs.

Elizabeth sighed.

“One hour.”

“Eh?”

“Maybe two.”

“Two what?”

“Hours. Two hours. That’s how long it will take before you’re begging me to touch you there, Captain Sparrow.”

“Take bloody longer’n that!” he grunted. “Don’t know as I’ll trust yer near me again after what ye did wiv that bloody needle. Could take weeks to recover.”

“So the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow, who faced the Kraken, who defeated Davy Jones – who overcame death itself – has been unmanned by a tiny splinter?”

“It bloody HURT!”

“Want me to kiss it better?”

“No.”

Elizabeth blinked.

“Who are you? And what have you done with my Jack?”

“Humph. Your Jack is sufferin’ a grievous wound in the most unfortunate and tender place on his person that tis possible for a grievous wound to be suffered.”

“It was just a tiny splinter!”

“Weren’t the splinter. Was that bloody great needle you were pokin’ me with. Enough to scare a man to death!”

“Two hours,” she said firmly. That’s it. Two hours from now you’ll be begging me to put my hands on you again.”

“Week at least,” he sniffed.

“Hah!”

“Mebbe five days. If yer lucky.”

“Two hours, Captain. If that.”

Jack gave her an appraising look. “Four days. And then ye get to beg me forgiveness in whichever way I see fit.”

“Two hours. And afterwards I will graciously accept YOUR apology.”

“We have an accord, Miss Swann!” he smirked, and reached for the rum bottle on his desk.

“Buggering hell! S’gone. Why, Elizabeth, has me rum gone?”

“I seem to recall you were fetching more when you found me …”

“So I was.” He groaned. “Should’ve stuck to doin’ that. Bloody safer.”

“I could fetch you some. If you ask nicely.”

“Least ye could do, as I see it. Seein’ as it’s all your fault.”

“MY fault? I seem to remember YOU were the one who pounced on ME, Captain Sparrow! It was YOUR voice whispering that you had to have me, ‘right here and now.’ YOUR hands tearing my breeches open and bending me over that barrel...”


“No - Shh!”

Her words seemed to bypass his brain and travel directly from her mouth to his groin. Instinctively he cupped himself, not wanting her to see – then he scowled, knowing she had.

“Your fault,” he insisted. “For lookin’ so bloody tempting. For makin’ me want ye all the bloody time. For takin’ me mind off everythin’ else. Even me rum!”

Elizabeth looked up at him and smiled. He was pouting, a petulant child, his eyes narrowed accusingly.

“I love you too, Jack!” she whispered softly, and leaned in to catch that delicious lower lip gently between her teeth. She felt him smile against her mouth and then he was kissing her, one hand cupping her cheek, the other twining in her hair.

She slid her hands over his shoulders, pulling him closer. When her body was pressed hard against his knees he instinctively spread his legs and drew her between them, needing more contact.

Then he felt himself stir again where she was crushed against him and hastily shoved her away.

“No, no,” he panted. “None o’ that. Not fer another three...I mean, four days. Too bloody sore!”

“Two hours,” she affirmed and slid her hands from his knees to his groin, allowing her fingertips to barely graze the soft bulge between his legs.

Jack made a pained noise in his throat.

“Go get me rum, evil wench!”

“Yes Captain!” she purred, and rose to saunter to the cabin door. Pulling it open, she swung back to whisper, “Actually it’ll be more likely one!” before slipping quickly away.


Jack shifted uneasily in his chair and wondered how he’d gotten himself into this mess. Before Lizzie he’d gone for months without a woman and not let it trouble him. But from the first time he’d taken her she’d become an obsession, a hunger that was never sated for long.

He closed his eyes and told himself he could do this, of course he could! But the taste of her was still on his lips, her teasing caress fresh in his mind, and his body was responding accordingly.

“Christ!”

Exasperated, he stared down at his crotch and shook his head. “Don’t you ever get enough of her? Don’t you ever bloody learn?”

‘Think of something else, Jack, think of something else…..’

His breeches were getting uncomfortably tight.

“Fine!”

Reaching down he worked the ties loose, groaning with relief as he pulled himself free.

Jack’s fingers did a quick, cautious inventory. Not too bad. Not too sore at all. In truth, the thought of her sticking that needle in his most sensitive places had been infinitely more painful than the splinter – or the needle itself.

He glanced thoughtfully at the cabin door. She’d be a little while yet.

“I’ll see to this meself,” he decided. “Win me wager – and get me just rewards”

After all, he reasoned, he’d only bet that her hands wouldn’t touch him for four days. No mention of his own. And indulging in a little self-gratification might just allow him to resist her advances long enough to prove her wrong.

Memories of a time when that was all he had flooded into his mind, momentarily distracting him. Longing for her, knowing she would never indulge in more than the playful, flirtatious banter that sent him dashing to his cabin. Relieving his aching body with quick, desperate hands, a bittersweet release that did nothing to soothe his tormented heart.

“But she loves you mate!” he reassured himself now. “An’ she called ye ‘My Jack.’ Lizzie’s Jack. M’Lizzie’s Jack.”

Inordinately pleased with that thought, he shuffled the chair closer to his desk so that his lower half would be safely hidden from view, just in case this took longer than he anticipated and she returned at an inopportune moment.

Then he reached between his legs and began to stroke himself, filling his mind with thoughts of her that excited him as much as the movements of his hand.

“Oh Lizzie…” he groaned, his fist moving up and down in a firm, steady rhythm. Knowing that she could return at any moment and find him like this, whispering her name as he pleasured himself, added an extra frission of dangerous pleasure.

Eyes drifting shut, he imagined her walking in on him right now and curling her soft slender fingers over his. Imagined the silken caress of her hair wrapped around their entwined fingers. Imagined her mouth on him, hot and wet and unbelievably good.

It was working, this would not take long after all, he thought vaguely. He smeared the sticky fluid that leaked from him along his length and rubbed faster, harder, felt himself throb in response.

He was rapidly approaching the point of no return, too aroused to stop now, and his eyes flickered open briefly to cast an anxious glance at the cabin door before the gathering storm between his legs claimed him again.

Breathing in harsh gasps, muscles trembling, his hand moved at a furious pace.

The tension in his groin became unbearable, his body quivering on the edge of release. An anguished groan escaped his lips.

He was close, so agonisingly close. Eyes closed tight, her taste and touch and scent filling his head, he bought his other hand down to cover himself, moaned her name. The click of the cabin door opening barely registered as tension exploded into bliss, spurting hot and wet into his cupped hand.

Finally he slumped back in the chair, chest heaving.

“You bloody cheat Jack!”

Jack forced his eyes open and tried his best to look innocent.

“Weren’t….doin’….nothin’…” he panted unconvincingly.

“Liar!”

Elizabeth stalked towards him, her arms full of rum bottles, her eyes full of outrage.

He winced.

“Stand up.”

“No!”

“Show me your hands then.”

“No! Don’t want to.”

“Why not? Something you don’t want me to see?”

He gave her a shifty look, frantically trying to tuck himself away and refasten his breeches with one hand.

“Admit it Jack. You bloody well cheated.”

“Did not!” Clothing restored, he stood up quickly and began to back towards the bunk, one hand hidden behind his back, the other held up in supplication..

“Jack Sparrow! Don’t lie to me. I know exactly what you were doing. I’ve seen it before, remember? I recognised the look on your face. And,” she added smugly, "I heard you say my name.”

“I – er – no you didn’t. I never said a word. You were dreamin’”

Jack looked longingly at the rum she’d dumped on his desk. He’d backed up as far as he could go now and she followed, pinning him against the edge of their bunk.

Suddenly she lunged. Not for his face, as he expected, but for the hand he’d kept concealed behind his back.

“Show me, Jack!” she demanded, her fingers closing around his wrist.

He resisted for a moment then let her pull his closed fist into view.

“Let me see.”

“Yer’ve seen it before. It’s me hand.”

“Now, Jack!”

She tried to uncurl his fingers, he curled them tighter – and there was a faint squelch as the evidence he was trying to hide was squeezed out of his cupped palm to trickle down the side of his hand.

“Cheat!” she spat triumphantly. “Cheat and liar!”

“Actually, luv,” Jack retorted, looking round for something to clean his hand with, “M’not. Not a cheat, certainly. The lyin’…well, weren’t so much a lie as a slight deviation from the truth.”

“Here. Let me.”

Elizabeth snatched a shirt from the floor and rubbed it non-too gently across his palm and fingers.

“That were me clean shirt!”

“You don’t have any clean shirts. Just some that are less dirty than others. And what do you mean, it wasn’t cheating? You said no touching for four days. It’s been considerably less than four days and you were doing a lot more than just touching! You lost, Jack. You owe me.”

He grinned.

“The agreement was no touching – or – er – more than touching from your hands. Not mine. M’allowed to touch. And on this occasion it were touchin’ of a necessary and exploratory nature.”

“Cheat. You were thinking of me, I heard you say my name. Same as me touching you myself. I win.”

“Wager still stands. It were my hands doin’ the touchin’ – what was going through me head at the time don’t count.”

“Cheat! And if it was so necessary why wait until I’d left? And why was it necessary at all? I thought you were in too much pain to even contemplate such a thing!”

Jack held up a finger. “Well Lizzie me luv,” he explained patiently, “Twas necessary to make sure everythin’ was still in workin’ order followin’ me unfortunate and very painful mishap. Savvy? An’ waiting til ye left were a matter of circumstance, not intentionally intentioned. The urge did not in fact enter me head til after ye left. Was put there by the actions of a certain evil wench of me acquaintance that goes by the name of Miss Elizabeth Swann, as it happens…”

For a brief moment Elizabeth looked sheepish – then she shrugged.

“Pirate!”

“Evil wench! An’ our wager still stands.”

“But….oh, fine!” She threw herself onto the bunk, exasperated. “But I will win. You won’t last for one day – let alone four.”

Jack sauntered to the desk and snatched up the nearest rum bottle. After taking a healthy swig he turned to face her with a knowing grin.

“No more cheating!” she warned, reading his mind. “I’ll be watching you.”

“Watching me?” for a moment he looked alarmed, then he winked. “Ye like to watch me, Lizzie?”

“Oh yes, I love to watch you.” Her eyes gleamed. “I love to watch you touching yourself, to hear you moan….I love the look on your face when you…”

“Won’t work, darlin’” he smirked. “Me powers of resistance are better than that.”

“You need a little recovery time, more like!”

“Bloody don’t!” he muttered, then glanced round the cabin. “Where’s me coat?”

“Under me,” Elizabeth told him, standing up and holding it out for him. She helped him into it then slid her arms around his waist and pulled him close.

“You’ll be under me too, before the day’s out,” she purred.

“Won’t!” he squeaked, pulling away.

“We’ll see.” She rocked her hips against him slowly.

For a moment Jack’s eyes flared with lust, then he shoved her away.

“Four days afore ye get yer hands on this fine body, Miss Swan!”

He glared at her, made a quick adjustment to his breeches and strode to the door.

“Jack?”

“Mmm?”

“You do know that spending in your own hand will not get me with child, don’t you?”

But Jack grinned.

“No worries, luv,” he said airily. “Me prodigy is already on the way. Guarantee it.” He opened the door and gave an elaborate bow. “I am after all, Captain Jack Sparrow!”

An enraged squawk came from behind him, followed by a boot that he quickly dodged.

Whistling happily, Captain Sparrow turned away and sauntered towards the helm.