Parlait

“Tell me we’ve water!” Elizabeth excitedly ran her fingers along the porcelain ridge of the bathing tub, such a rare commodity aboard any ship! Barbossa had truly been thinking when he’d raided that merchant, to have plundered this, for her! And to have carried it, all the way to the cabin…for her. She looked up again at the brawny Captain before her, such thick arms, such a broad, hairy chest and strong back…and so startlingly thoughtful…such a man! Oh to be clean! Oh to share a bath with such a man! She picked up the soap and breathed in the clean scent of sandalwood, brushed the terry cloth against her cheek; he’d thought of everything. Maybe. “Not seawater!”

“We’ve fresh water,” Barbossa walked over to the barrel in the corner of his cabin, he’d known the tub would make her happy, and it had. That alone gladdened him. He pounded the lid of the barrel with his fist, popping it up on one end and quickly pulling it up and off, dipping his fingers into the water contained. He smirked and turned back to Elizabeth. “Fresh, cold water.”

Elizabeth smiled, stroking the side of the tub again and once more sweeping her eyes up and down the Captain’s form, loving how the dancing girl tattooed on his back seemed to dip and sway in the flickering lantern light. The gift of the tub, the promise of a bath, and the thought of sharing it with him were enough to push the would be panic and thoughts of what she was sure she felt progressing within her from her mind. “Then I’ll be in need of you to help me warm it, Captain.”

The look in her eyes and the hunger in her voice were unmistakable. Perhaps it was only masculine hauteur at it’s best, but Barbossa put his arms around the water barrel and heaved it up with a red blooded growl. He’d always been known for being strong, but now he was again as strong as he’d been thirty years ago, and with the approving, dazzled light in Elizabeth’s eyes as she watched him empty the barrel into the tub for her, it had never felt so good to be so powerful. His zeal showed, the water crashed into the tub, forced up and over the sides, leaving a few egg sized puddles on the floor, but Elizabeth was watching the strain and stretch of his muscles, not the water. Barbossa smiled, liking it whenever she leered at him thusly, but did his best not to let on that he noticed at all. He put the barrel back down and stood straight, gave her a gallant flourish of his hand that he noted with some satisfaction made her skin flush hot. “Yer bath, miss.”

Oh but how he looked in lantern light, the flicker of flame over his body, adding to the red hue of his beard, chest hair and slightly graying locks. How old could he be, she wondered? She’d guessed fifty, perhaps late forties, but Elizabeth fathomed that the Aztec curse had frozen him, he’d not lived, nor aged, for ten years, so he was likely older than he looked, more experienced, and the Captain exuded experience, all types of experience. But how old could he be, what had he lived through that she would never know? But with how his muscles flexed, big and thick and formidable in the glow of the lanterns, the way he moved with such mastery and might, age was erased. He’d brought her a tub; he’d poured her a bath. Did anyone else know he could be like this? If what she thought she was feeling within her were so, she felt a sudden twinge of pride at it. She smiled, walking up to him, wanting to run her hands over his solid arms, to touch that strength he’d just displayed for her. “You will join me?”

Her touch made him think of other things besides bathing, her thumb finding one of the protruding veins beneath his skin and following it up to his shoulder. “Be that a question, or an order?”

Elizabeth smirked, moved her hands from his arms and ran her fingers through his chest hair. “Whichever gives you the most pleasure, Captain.”

She always knew just what to say to touch him off in the most satisfyingly enticing kind of way. Barbossa grinned, grabbed her and pulled her to him fiercely as she giggled and fought him playfully. “I’m curious, which one gives y’the most pleasure?”

Elizabeth laughed and laughed, held tight in his arms, unable to break free, and loving it. “I suppose though that you let ‘her’ order you around?”

Hmmm, he’d thought this had been settled. “If’n yer meanin’ Tia—“

“No!” She simpered at him. Elizabeth had cared not about Tia Dalma. “Your mermaid!” His expression relaxed back into a laughing smile and she laughed with him. “You had advised me to be jealous!”

“Me mermaid,” Barbossa sighed, as though he missed her terribly, but it only made Elizabeth giggle again. “Pale blue skin, she had. Green hair.”

“Green hair?” Elizabeth remarked, thinking it such an odd description if he truly meant to make her jealous.

“Aye, like seaweed,” He answered, adjusting his arms around her so he wasn’t holding her so tightly. He wondered mischievously if he could make her believe this. “Face like one a God’s angels, loved the upper bit, I did.” Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly at his description of finding another female attractive, he grinned again. “But the tail end a her…left much to be desired.”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and huffed laughing. “You!” She sighed. “And I suppose that’s why you haven’t been keeping her aboard in that water barrel?”

“I doubt she’d be very obligin’,” he smirked again. “Left her for her sister, I did.”

This was an unexpected twist and had her curious, she’d thought his story had ended, punch line and all. “Did you? Why?”

“Her sister be more accommodating.” Barbossa answered, enjoying the looks Elizabeth gave him at every turn. “Her upper half was an ugly fish, but her bottom, a girl!”

“You’re such a lecherous old rogue!” Elizabeth laughed, even though she’d sworn that she wouldn’t. “If ever I find scales in our bed, I suppose I’ll know why!”

What had she said? He smiled, but the words were sobering, surprised him to hear them out loud. “Our bed?”

Oh no! What had she done? “I didn’t mean—“

Barbossa shook his head. “Y’brought no chagrin, Elizabeth.” He assured her, and stroked her cheek, looked into her eyes. “It just be worth repeatin’.”

Her smile was different now, and she felt something wet in her eyes as he pulled her possessively against him and kissed her softly. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed as hard as she could, he was so much man to embrace and to be embraced by. Pressed so much to him, she thought she could again feel the movement within her abdomen, like their closeness stirred it. She wanted to pull away, make it stop, but to step away from the Captain now would only cause suspicions she wanted no part of. She loved him, and she’d suffer anything because of it. His big hands were skimming over her hips and buttocks again beneath the shirt she wore, it felt good, but she wasn’t quite ready to have him at this moment, not with the thought of what loomed in their future again brought to the surface. She was thankful for the tub of water beside them, cold water. “I want my bath.”

“Strip off then.” He nodded, a gleam in his blue eyes and kept his arms around her.

“Captain!” She smiled. “I’m serious about the bath. You may even go first, if you like.” Her hand crossed his chest luridly to further persuade him. “I’ll take up soap and sponge, and bathe you.”

Barbossa hadn’t been fond of the idea of sitting in a tub of cold water, but Elizabeth made it seem so inviting. He was out of his breeches and easing into the tub in no time, finding the water not warm, but not as disagreeably cold as he’d expected. Elizabeth knelt behind him, her hands busy undoing the twine that had kept his hair in the long red braid for so long. She obviously meant to make good on her word. Barbossa smiled and lay back. She was right; it would be good to have a bath.

“I wouldn’t have guessed your hair to be so very long,” Elizabeth combed her finger through the braid, untwisting it and smoothing it out against his neck, and the tub where it hung down, likely to his mid back. It shone dark red in the lamplight, rippled and curled from the braid, would have been longer than it appeared had it not been trapped in the braid for so long. She glanced up at him, never having seen him with his hair unbraided before and wondering how it would frame his face. He looked younger now, his eyes bluer, face a bit more narrow; over all he seemed so handsomely feral.

“Not somethin’ I muse ‘bout.” He answered as if bored with her observations, but closed his eyes and let her play with his hair.

Elizabeth smiled, she’d expected such a response; hair was not among the Captain’s vanities. She however stroked it as if just discovering it about him, long red hair that framed his face like he was some savage from a distant land. She reached behind her for the chalice on the table, dipped it into the tub and poured some water back over his head when she noticed something different about a particular tress in her hand. She smiled again. “I suppose you don’t even realize you’ve a streak of dark blond hair in the back, do you?”

“Hmmm,” was his only response, it was actually nice to soak in the water and feel Elizabeth attending to him, rubbing soap to his hair and head, washing vigorously and then rinsing it again. Blond streaks were of no comparison. But he heard her laugh again at his apathy to the matter.

“Well, I like it!” She said breathily, leaning in over his shoulder and kissing his neck softly, he gave a groan of enjoyment, but she was distracted by something sharp that scraped her lower lip. She moved her head back to take a look.

“Don’t be thinkin’ yer stoppin’ there, girl.” He told her, but Elizabeth’s hand crept lightly over the spot she’d just kissed as if inspecting something.

“Captain!” Her voice was tight with some alarm. “You’ve a splinter in your neck!” How had she missed it? It was easily half as long as her little finger and about as big around as the chain around his neck.

“Ah,” he said calmly, hoping to put to rest any of her concerns and get her back to kissing his neck again. “From the raid. Happens.” He shrugged then leaned his head away from her, exposing the splinter even more. “Go on and remove it if’n yer bothered by it.”

“Good thing I found it,” Elizabeth gasped, seeing it was in deep and feeling guilty that she’d not noticed until now, but then, how had he not noticed? She pinched her fingers together over the rough edge sticking out of his skin, but the wood only slipped from her grasp when she tugged at it, making her wince more so than Barbossa. “I can’t quite…” she tried again, “there isn’t enough of it presented to…” she couldn’t budge it with her fingers, but then another idea occurred to her. She sighed, hoping this would work and not hurt him too badly. “Be still,” she told him then leaned close to him, one hand on his chest, the other on his shoulder, and grabbed the end of the splinter in her teeth, and gave a swift yank.

A little spurt of fire flared within his skin, making Barbossa jolt, but by the time he pulled away to look at her, Elizabeth smiled at him with the tiny piece of wood that had speared him held triumphantly in her mouth. His neck still burned, the sensation becoming pleasant and stimulating as soon she’d smiled at him, and he’d barely given her time to spit it out before he reached out to take her around the neck, pull her to him and kiss her roughly, his arms fitting more around her the closer she was to him, not stopping until he held enough of her to pull her into the tub with him as he ravaged her mouth with his tongue.

Water splashed about everywhere as Elizabeth tried to kiss him and laugh at the same time, the shirt drenched and sticking her as she did her best to arrange herself facing the Captain on his lap. The water was cool, but his skin was hot. He made no secret of the arousal that was upon him, spurred by the sharp sting of having the splinter removed, no doubt. He was now lifting the soggy shirt over her head, balling it up and tossing it aside in a wet lump. His hands immediately covered both her breasts and squeezed gently until her moan broke their kiss. His touch felt good, her nipples ached for his pinching fingers, the sensations sinking lower and churning other needs, but she’d so wanted her bath! “You don’t want me like this, here.” She smiled, unable to make herself mean it.

“I rather think I do,” He insisted, pulling her hand below the water and wrapping it firmly around his erection, then groaning deeply, never breaking the eye contact, letting her see all the lustful sparks as they flew in his eyes. “The quarters be a bit tight, but can be done.” His breathing was heavy, hands roamed the small of her back and slowly dropped lower, threatening to lift her up and plant her upon him. “Do it.”

Unconsciously she’d been stroking him, it was impossible to hold his hard length in her hand and not stroke the magnificence of that which made him male. Never once had she been able to refuse the Captain when his body was in its most beautiful of ready states, and feeling his cock thrumming in her hand made the most sensitive places between her legs grow wet and ripe for his invasion. Perhaps he knew that? But here? In the tub? If she straddled him, her thighs along the outsides of his, there’d be no more room width wise. “You won’t be able to move.” She whispered as if in warning, feeling herself being pulled into this latest of trances as her body responded to his need, wanting to quench it for him.

“Aye,” His voice was lower now as she leaned forward, more upon his chest, her hips rising as she did. Ordinarily, he’d never say what he was about to tell her. He’d already conceded, though, with some affection, that his bunk was “their bed;” if there was a woman alive who deserved to be told this, who he trusted enough to say it to, it was her. “I be at yer order, Elizabeth.”

She’d teased him of such earlier, but now to have him willingly agreeing to such a thing was overwhelming. “Captain?” Elizabeth smiled, then kissed him immediately, further surprised by how he didn’t attempt to rule the kiss, let his lips and tongue be hers, and she left each well sucked, rising out of the water enough to wrap her arms around his neck, tangled her hands in his long, free, clean, wet red hair, her erect clitoris pricking its little head forward enough that it rubbed against his chest just below his ribcage. The coarse hairs there created a pleasant friction, and Elizabeth moaned as she had her way with his mouth, thrusting herself against his beautiful broad chest as she did, his strong arms holding her. The magic of her tight pink bud careening over his skin and chest hair again was too rich and delicious to not be given into. She was riding his chest, his glorious well-muscled chest; the thought alone sent shivers and tingles from her thighs to her nipples. She sped up her rhythm, let herself gasp his name, thrust her hips forward and throw her head back.

Barbossa could feel her slick and hardened little knot grazing over his skin, and while his cock cried out for that attention, he took a deep breath and strengthened his resolve. He had promised to be at her order. “Didn’t think ye’d mean to take me that way,” he whispered to her, cupping one hand under her buttocks to support her, looking up at her hooded eyes, white throat, lantern light flickering over her soft body, golden hair falling behind her; she was beautiful as she rode him. She had always been fascinated and so attracted to his chest, why was he surprised she’d be so hungry in such actions? His cock strained against his stomach, grew a bit sore in it’s swelling, but he half looked forward to making a woman cum with his chest. “But y’may if y’so wish it.”

Elizabeth’s only response was a moan, her teeth chattering together too much to speak as the feeling took her, crushing herself against him, clitoris twitching, the underside brushed to the point of absolute frenzy when she moved upwards against him, only to have the sensation switch to the top of her hard little bud on the down stroke, something deep, dark and shuddering enveloping her. The Captain pushed her into him now, happy to be of her order, recognizing that her body knew what it needed, and he let her take it. Through the fray that consumed her, Elizabeth could feel Barbossa fighting to lay further back beneath her, leaning his head back, his shoulders dipping below the water’s surface now as he lifted his chin up, his beard scraping the skin over her ribs, then her breasts. It tickled so pleasantly, added to the wonderful turmoil between her legs, she arched her back, moved harder and faster on him, and then felt his tongue trace her nipple. She jerked and bucked, a needful white heat burning through her, his mouth closing over her nipple and sucking it hard against his teeth, her body as spastic as though his lips held her clitoris itself. Her thighs squeezed around him, shaking, a wondrous wet feeling between them that promised comets blazing in the skies of her desire; she needed to feel him.

How he wished now that she’d abandon his chest and thrust herself up higher where he could gain a moment to drive his tongue into her deeply. He could feel every wet, hot crease unfurled against his skin, her clitoris as toughened as the muscles she thrust herself against. He wanted to taste that passion, bathe his tongue and lips in the wistfulness of her dousing splendor, feed her pleasure as he fed upon her ardor. He was certainly strong enough, why not grab hold of her, get to his feet, and throw her down across their bed, devouring the place of such sweet heat between her legs from his knees on the floor as he stroked his neglected, wanton cock with his own hand? And then his cock gave another hard throb, responding to a touch. Elizabeth’s hand, grasping as much of his erection as she could reach back and take.

The Captain held her nipple between his teeth and growled, moving as much as he could into her hand, but he couldn’t affect that which he’d wanted to, judging from how the deep growl lingered in his throat. She held him tighter, only able to encompass the head of his organ against her palm, rubbing the small furrow beneath it with two fingers as sharp, simmering tension crept outwardly from her clitoris, to her thighs, to her abdomen. Her body was not her own anymore, the need for release took over, thrashed her against the Captain’s heaving chest, her hand stroking his hard, torrent cock as orgasm mushroomed within her, overflowed her and erupted in a fit of cries, gasps and contortion.

Her dam had broken, she lay convulsing against him as his erection threatened to peel from its skin. Barbossa could be used no longer. Animal need and brute strength shot him to his feet, grabbing Elizabeth to him, somehow clearing the tub. His mouth claimed her quivering lips as he crashed upon her on the bed, bracing their fall with his elbows and knees, wasting no time in aligning his hips to hers and thrusting into her nearly as soon as they’d hit the mattress. She still contracted from her climax, closed hard around his trespassing cock and wailed her pleasure against his neck, holding tight to him and begging him to move, though he already was, at a bunk shaking, breath rattling, unremitting pace.

The contractions never ended, he’d entered her before she’d wound down, and now they wouldn’t stop, sending pleasant vibes thrumming through her again and again every time her body bit down against his. The Captain’s constant low rumble of a growl told her she was not the only one to feel such rapture, but it did nothing to quell his ravenous need. From the tip of her toes to the roots of her hair, her body surged with him, impossible to lay still beneath him, so shaken by the grasping state of her own body and the monstrous desire he kept coming with. She raised her legs around him, toes pointing to the deck above, felt him slam deeper, and heard him groan her name as though he were more beast than man, seething with his need for release, the word “esporra” now ground out with every thrust.

She made him feel like a younger man, and even though he was on the inside again, what Elizabeth made him feel was something unrelated to that, as evidenced by the Portuguese that left his lips. It had been years since he’d been so possessed to want to fuck a woman so desperately hard; it was as good to have Elizabeth able to take it as it was to once again be able to do it. She’d raised her legs, he sank deep, nudged something within her that made her gasp, her limbs stiffened around him, channel drawing tighter and tighter, like a virgin’s, building remarkable friction, driving a bolt of pleasure throughout the head of his cock, up his shaft, his balls seeming to crack open under the strain and fire a thick spurt of semen that took forever to draw up his shaft, finally leaving his cock with a splattering blast.

He fell against her, long hair tickling her breasts, Elizabeth cumming again, not with the usual intensity, but her body gripping his with another set of pent up contractions. She felt the Captain take his weight on his elbows as he gasped for breath, tried to roll off of her, but she grabbed him around the biceps. “No,” she begged, wrapping her legs around his waist and thrusting herself up against him, the contractions coming a bit faster and stronger now, fitting a more satisfying end to their latest turmoil. “Let me finish.”

Barbossa wasn’t sure how it had happened, he certainly hadn’t been concentrating on her pleasure, but the fact that she could find it beneath him so easily was a blessing for both of them. He straightened his back, and began to move above her, gently, slowly, just enough to make her moan and coax a few more strong convulsions from her body with the hardness he had left until finally she fell limp beneath him. He kissed her even as she panted, rolling them both to their sides, and held her.

“Esporra?” She asked through a gaspy smile.

Barbossa managed a laugh. “Never takin’ y’to Portugal with that mouth a yers, girl.”

She rolled her eyes. “What does it mean?” Then she smiled again, knowing him by now. “And don’t tell me anymore silliness about a mermaid, Captain.”

“Esporra,” Barbossa drawled the word like he had to think about it’s meaning as he laughed. How to tell her? Be simple and crude, or polite and poetic? “It means what was now twice for ye, and once for me.”

“Oh,” she smirked. “Such a prettier word than ‘cum.’”

Barbossa shot her mildly surprised glance, wondering why he bothered to try and speak to her like she was a lady, but loving that he didn’t have to. “Perhaps y’would have made a fine enough whore.” He smirked back at her, and moved to kiss her, but Elizabeth was sitting up, getting to her feet. “And where is it y’be goin’?” He wouldn’t have minded keeping her close for a while.

“I’m finishing my bath!” She said insistently as she stepped into the tub. “Or don’t you remember disrupting it, you blond streaked devil?” She picked up the soap as she cupped water to her body, wondering if he’d do so again. His semen dripped from her as she stood, she wondered if this round might find its mark too, hoped that it wouldn’t, refused to entertain the notion of twins. Panic was pushing against the door of her sanity; she searched for a way to push back.

“Y’be clean enough,” Barbossa propped himself on one elbow, watching her and smoothing the sheet beside him. “C’mere, lay with me.”

The panic eased, the sound of his voice enough to do it. “Already twice done, Captain.” She smiled, rubbing the sandalwood soap to her leg. “I want my bath. And you may watch, if you wish.” She was however impressed that he’d called her to him to simply lie close with him. To think that this was all sparked by the sharp removal of a splintered piece of wood from his neck. Part of her felt guilty, he wished to hold her and to kiss her, and to stroke her skin; this big, fearsome, strong, Scot disguised by a Portuguese name, pirate captain wished to snuggle. How uncanny! She would make it up to him in a bit, and then some; perhaps those broad shoulders needed a good rub down? Who else knew Captain Hector Barbossa was as tender as this? Elizabeth smiled; who else had he ever surrendered himself to as he did with her? “I had thought you to be at my order, Captain.” She tried hard not to laugh now, but it wasn’t easy. He may have started out letting her use him, but it certainly hadn’t ended that way. “I believe you lied.”

Barbossa shrugged his big shoulders, and reclined, smirking. “Mutineer.”