Parlait

The Captain thought she was asleep when he’d come in. She’d heard his heavy footsteps, heard the wick of the lamp hiss as he turned it up, his eyes falling over her still form, seeing she was asleep, and then proceeding to quietly ready himself to sleep beside her, and carefully settling into the bunk, laying his arm over her and pressing a soft kiss to her head. She’d shifted instinctively closer to him, he held her a bit tighter. She smiled, his body the ultimate of comforts against the maelstrom in her head. She’d been purposefully feigning sleep, not certain she wished to talk, afraid of what she might tell him, but it was difficult not to roll over facing him, kiss him and ask if the mizzen had been repaired, if they’d given up on the trade ship they’d been stalking due to their snapped spar. His strong body lay naked against her, he wouldn’t refuse her if she were to roll over and kiss him to some other purpose either. But again, she couldn’t trust what she might say to him, particularly in the throes of the passion he brought about in her. She kept still, eyes closed, the Captain seemed contented to hold her like this; why couldn’t she be?

It was so hard these past few weeks to know what she wanted or where she wanted to be. She loved Barbossa, she knew that, and there was no better place than in his arms, a place where she always felt desirable, warm and safe. But there was something coming between them, and she did her best not to show it. Fear. She was so afraid of losing what she’d found with him. She already knew that such could happen, and she knew exactly what could bring it about. How many days had it been now since the first phases of the moon? Only five? Perhaps ten? No. More akin to twenty.

Jack entered her thoughts more these days, but she was far from longing for the man she’d called ‘husband.’ What was it Jack had said when she told him? She couldn’t remember the words; maybe there were no words? What Elizabeth did distinctly remember was the look on his face, and how he’d just walked off, slowly; but not walked really, more drifted off, heading to The Pearl’s stern, his steps looking like Jack himself were sailing on the sea, in the opposite direction of both The Pearl, and her. For just over three months Elizabeth had been scared and confused, wasn’t sure what to do. She’d denied her condition to herself, made excuses for why she ran to the rail every morning, sick as any land lover, blamed her sudden fainting spells on not getting enough sleep, or the heat of the day. But that morning, as she dressed alone in their cabin, the mirror told her tale, her deception couldn’t play out much longer, she couldn’t hide this from Jack anymore, or from herself. Her belly was rounded out; her breeches wouldn’t button all the way up over it. She may not have been heavy with the child, but if she stood profile, one could see it if they took the time to look closely enough.

She hadn’t wanted it, had never had thoughts of motherhood, forgotten the possibility even existed the moment she set foot aboard a pirate vessel and felt the surge of the ship and the wind in her hair. But now, here it was, visited upon her, upon Jack. What was she to do? Jack, a father? She could imagine that less than she could herself a mother. What would he say? She was most afraid he’d leave her in some place on land, to raise their child, and promise to make port there whenever he could. He’d strand her. She looked down at the growing hump in her abdomen, sighed disdainfully; she was already stranded. It had taken more than she believed she had to finally go to Jack, her husband, only to have him turn and walk away from her.

Her fear and apprehensions mixed with anger and outrage that he’d do something so very selfish, now. She ran after him. “Don’t do this to me, Jack Sparrow!”

His back stiffened and he’d turned with a burst of aggravation, shouting at her in a manner that he never had before, hands flailing. “And what do you want me to do, Lizabeth? Tell you everything happens for a bleedin’ reason? Tell you it’ll all be alright in the end?”

She was undaunted, her anger more than his shock. “And why can’t you? You’re my husband, that’s what you’re supposed to do!”

“And yer not supposed to be…” he couldn’t even say it, just balled up his fists and swung one in the air at nothing. “Just…go!” His hands waved towards her as if he were shooing some small creature away. “Don’t follow me, Lizzie. Not now!” Again he put his back to her.

But she wouldn’t let him go. She couldn’t. Elizabeth always had been twice as stubborn as Jack was, and that combined with her anger, fear and hurt, made him no match for her. She caught his wiry arm, squeezing hard. “No! You don’t get to walk off sulking! Do you know how long I’ve lived with this, Jack?”

With more strength than she’d ever felt from him before, he shook off her hand. “Do you know how long I’ve had to live with this, Lizzie?” He yelled, a completely different man from the one who seemed to always be so unshakeable in the face of whatever other dangers he’d encountered. Then he sighed heavily, his head dropped forward, almost like he was sorry. “Not good, Lizzie.” He said, shaking his head. “The sea, piracy, they be no place for a family, and I’m not a family man. Children, Lizzie, they age you, take away who you are. I don’t want that.” She’d felt shattered enough when he was done speaking, but then he paused a moment and added, “Not good.” As if his tirade had required further cementing.

And what else had she expected him to say? The last few months had been marked with difficult moments between them, Jack never giving quite enough in their relationship, bent on doing things as he wanted them done, when he wanted them done. Elizabeth only became more difficult to please; finding fault with all that he did, unable to look at him without remembering killing him, and eternally trying to justify doing so. The baby only quadrupled the tension. They didn’t speak for days after she’d told him, couldn’t even be around one another. But then one night, when Jack was supposed to have been on watch, she heard him entering the cabin. She sat up, he was coming to her, her hopes had been so high that this was where things would finally get back on course between them. The first words he’d said to were, “Lizzie, I’m sorry.” It had meant so much, had felt so good. They were in each other’s arms again in no time, clothing being shed, the feelings and need frenetic, but the pace slow.

Jack eased between her legs, her arms pulling at him, it had seemed like so long since he’d touched her, since she’d tasted his rum soaked kisses. They were making up again, an end to the fight, lay together, let the act bind them to one another again, make things as they were, and they’d deal with this. She’d been so certain that would be the outcome, put more into her kisses, her touches, sought to add a new dimension to their coupling, would do anything to not have Jack angry with her anymore over this situation. She had to be better now than she ever was to him sexually, better than any whore he’d ever had. She’d bed him as though her life depended on it, for it felt as though it did. Pleasure Jack to limits he’d never known, make herself invaluable to him, or this child would tear them apart.

Her own body had betrayed her, though. Maybe it had been too long; or perhaps it was just her body that had grown more sensitive with the pregnancy, for when Jack began to guide his exceptional cock into her, Elizabeth recoiled in pain. She’d tried to settle herself, breathe deeply, relax, told herself it was just stress and nerves, she’d had Jack many times before, she was broken to his length and girth, it shouldn’t hurt, it would stop in a moment. But the more Jack forced himself inside her, the more she felt like she was being scraped. No! She’d finally gotten him back, he was speaking to her, nothing had been resolved between them yet, but at least they were together in a more favorable way, no arguing. They needed to make love; she wanted that to make everything right, it was the only answer she had left. Elizabeth suppressed her discomfort, grit her teeth and lay back beneath him, feeling every inch of Jack sink into her, the burn incredible against her sensitive channel walls. And then he started to thrust, felt like he was pulling her apart.

He must have felt how stiff she was beneath him, or maybe he’d even noticed the pain in her expression, for he’d stopped. “Elizabeth?” She opened her eyes; he was looking down at her with concern in his deep brown eyes. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” She insisted, swallowed hard. “Go on.”

He moved again, just a bit, testing her, and when she winced, he stopped again. “Lizzie, you looked more into it the first time I took you.” He withdrew, every inch sliding out of her like he was made of jagged metal. He moved to the side of the bed, away from her.

“Jack, no!” She was immediately sitting up; ignoring the pain between her legs, pretending there was no small roundness to her belly in front of her. She reached for him, lovingly stroking his shoulder and arm, hoping to coax him back above her. This had to happen; she felt like it might save them, no matter the pain it caused her. “I’m alright, really. It’s not so bad.”

Jack covered his face with his hands and leaned forward away from her, exhaling sharply. “Let’s not do this, Lizzie.” He said from behind the mask of his fingers.

“Jack, I told you, it’s not so bad, come on,” she smiled, tugging at him a bit, but he got to his feet, shaking his head.

“No,” he said, turned to face her. “I meant that.” His finger pointed to her newly bulging belly.

Elizabeth felt cold, unwanted; remembered how useless and awful she thought she was whenever her father raised his voice to her when she was a child. She hadn’t been happy upon discovering she carried a child, but now she felt ten times worse. She didn’t know what to say. Should she apologize? And how was it that she could make this better? “What do you propose I do?” She hadn’t realized she was crying until one of the tears dropped onto her chest and rolled down over her navel.

“We’re two week’s sail from Tortuga; you can get rid of it there.” Jack said, sounding as though he’d put some thought into this for days. “Where there be whores, there be those who specialize in practices as such, Lizzie.” He must have read disturbance in her features, for she hadn’t been so certain she could so easily alleviate the situation as he suggested. But Jack seemed pretty certain, his next words marking it so. “Bugger Lizzie, you killed me easily enough!”

There was only one time in her life when she’d felt colder then she did at that moment. Yes, she’d killed him. Hadn’t she enough guilt and remorse over it? Would she ever feel enough of that to satisfy Jack? Some part of her had recognized that what grew inside her was them, half her, half him. Did Jack not consider this? “And you’re asking me to do it again!”

Tears ran silently from her eyes as she lay in bed beside the Captain now. The pace of his breathing suggested he was asleep, but Elizabeth began to wish she hadn’t pretended she was. She needed to hear his voice, needed to feel him holding her to him, needed to feel all his strength around her, and to hope it always would be there. How would he react if she were to tell him? Jack at least had told her from time to time that he’d loved her, and though in hindsight she fathomed that Jack had confused something else for love, he’d still spoken words to her that the Captain had yet to. How could she be sure of what their future would be if she told him? But for now, she needed him to hold her close and to talk to her, about anything.

“Captain,” she whispered, wiping her tears with the sheets, patting her damp cheeks lightly to eliminate the puffiness of the skin around her eyes.

“Mmmm,” Barbossa didn’t stir, eyes remained closed; he seemed more like he’d trained himself to respond to her voice if ever he heard it in his sleep, but not to actually wake up and speak.

Elizabeth smiled; at least he seemed to make some sort of effort to listen for her. Jack sometimes couldn’t manage such when he was dead awake. She reached over and curled her fingers around a lock his red hair, smoothing her fingers down his face; then ran her them lightly through his beard. He flinched awake, though his eyes still remained closed. Good enough. “How did you become Jack’s first mate?”

What? He did indeed keep his ears open in case she ever called his name in the middle of the night; there was much she could have needed him to know when all was quiet. He’d claimed the side of the bunk closest to the cabin door, done so purposefully, for in the event of a night attack, and his cabin stormed, there would at least be him and his sword between Elizabeth and the marauders. However, in claiming that side of their bed, he’d given her the best access to see out of the etched glass window. If another ominous ship loomed nearby, it would be Elizabeth who would notice it before he did. But even beyond that, if she’d wakened in the night because she was cold, or because he snored, or because she wanted him, Barbossa wished to be at the ready. But this? No, not worth opening his eyes up for. “Y’wake me from a sound sleep, in the dead a night, to ask that?”

Now she felt foolish, and guilty for having disturbed him, but not enough to let him go back to sleep. “Well, yes.” Maybe if she had a good enough reason for her question, he’d open his eyes? “I had a dream, I’m curious.” There, much better than telling him she was so panicked she was going to burst into boisterous tears if he didn’t talk to her, tell her some story, just anything to give her the perfected and foreboding rasp of his voice to focus on.

“Could I tell y’oer hash and coffee in the mornin’?” He didn’t move, planned to keep it that way. Repairing the mizzen had been arduous work, and though he was The Reproach’s captain, he’d stripped his shirt off like his men and took hammer, fire and pitch to the new lumber, then pulled with them to raise it into place. A young man lingered within him, but tired too was that young man.

She was being idiotic and selfish; she realized that now. How silly of her to wake him for something like this. Elizabeth drew a deep breath and held it for a while, telling herself that she would make it through the night on her own. “I suppose so.”

“Mmmm.” And with that, the Captain re-submerged within the depths of slumber.

Such was not Elizabeth’s luck. And eternity seemed to have passed. How long could she hide her secret from Barbossa? What would he say when he found out? What would he do to her? Would she end up walking the plank again? An encumbrance he didn’t need or want in his life? She loved him, loved what they shared; and yet she’d managed to jeopardize it! Tears…they were back, rolling from her eyes to her ears as she stared up at the ceiling, her heart pounding away with a tactile fear. She needed him; it couldn’t wait until morning. “Captain,” she said again, wiping her eyes once more and trying to think of her next words.

Barbossa sighed heavily; it had only been a few seconds. Grudgingly, he sat up with a yawn. For whatever reason she wanted to know this, she wanted to know it now. Might as well get it over with; hmm, perhaps he was becoming wrapped around her finger? What? Him? No, of course not! “Met Jack in prison.”

Now he was awake! She beamed with elation, he would talk to her, he would, unknowingly, make her feel better! And the story was already intriguing. “Prison? Where?” Could they have perhaps met in Port Royal, years before she lived there?

“San Juan Bay, Puerto Rico.” He stretched some, rubbed his eyes, half of him not believing he was tolerating this. But when he focused his eyes on Elizabeth, who was also sitting up, there was something more in her expression than curiosity. Something was wrong, he wanted to know what, but she was being indirect about the whole thing. Talking with her, about this, might persuade her to tell him. “Within the walls of El Morro, awaitin’ the hangman.”

“Were you cell mates?” She tucked her feet under her, all the commotion within her settling down quickly now that the Captain was awake with her, talking to her.

“For the most part. Was nigh fifteen years ago, Jack be a young, pretty thing through the bars to me left.” He remembered how Jack had looked then, a scraggily, dirty, little thing that hadn’t quite filled out yet, hair matted together beneath a tattered red scarf, the fuzzy tufts of a beard just on his chin and cheeks, and his eyes lined with smudged kohl, like some bloody, damned Egyptian prince. “All talk, was Jack. Brave and softheaded. Were an easy mark for bigger, older, malignant men.” He stopped short of explaining what he really meant; the girl had been, in a way, married to Jack once.

“And you protected him?” Somehow, she knew.

“I had me reasons.” He wondered if Elizabeth knew enough of prisons to be entertaining thoughts that his reasons had been physical…if she was, he’d set her straight on that now. “Jack’s mouth was always agape with talk of a ship with black sails, that she were fast, that she were rugged. I’d lost me crew to the noose, me ship burned upon capture, but Jack swore to have one. We began to contemplate and concoct a plan of escape, to his ship. I gained his trust, in order to gain his ship. The details be rather borin’, but it worked, and I found meself aboard The Black Pearl, as first mate.” He paused a moment, the most pleasant of reminiscence coming over him. “She were a marvelous ship. Jack had prattled on about many silly, incomprehensible a yarn, I was to assume The Pearl to be one a them.” He paused again, could feel the pitch and rise of the galleon beneath his feet, could see her black sheets to the wind. “But no, The Pearl be the least embellished of all Jack’s tales, all that he said she was, and then some.” The Pearl certainly was a ship out of legend, and the loss of her pained him, but he lived with the hope of some day getting her back. Barbossa sighed, “There be no other ship like The Pearl, my Pearl.”

She smiled, there was something happy about the melancholy in his voice and his eyes, something inspirited and anticipating that made even the Captain smile. “I just can’t see you as anyone’s first mate.” Elizabeth said, dreaming of the first pirate captain she’d encountered aboard The Pearl. Jack had never told her the story of he and Barbossa, and even if he had, she was sure it wouldn’t have been anything like this one she heard now.

Barbossa smiled. “Nor me, girl.” No matter what, he’d always be proud of this bit of treachery. “As I said, Jack be an easy mark for bigger, older, malignant men!” To his surprise Elizabeth tittered with laughter, something danced in her eyes, and it made him laugh. “Took less than a month to deposit him on that little isle, and The Pearl and her crew became mine.”

“That sounds more like you!” Elizabeth quipped proudly, and put one of her hands over his. He lifted it to his lips and pressed a kiss to it. She now knew how the Captain and Jack had come to meet, but unfortunately, that marked the end of the story, he’d likely go back to sleep now, but she wouldn’t. What else could she ask him while he was awake? What else was she curious about? Oh! Of course! “Why do you spare women when you raid a ship?”

Another question? He’d thought that maybe, just maybe, some part of her was missing Jack, and so she’d asked how he’d come to sail with him. But no, she didn’t miss Jack; she’d found the story of his deceit of Jack humorous, and then switched too quickly and easily to another subject. What was going on with her? She seemed to hold onto him by every word he spoke. Was she merely feeling neglected? He had been busy with the high winds and seas, and then the snapped mizzen most of the day. Perhaps she just missed his attentions? That was easily enough to correct, and much more palatable than her missing Jack.

“C’mere, girl.” He took her hand and pulled her to him, settling her against his chest as he leaned back into a stack of pillows, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a few kisses to her forehead and temple. This question however cut a bit deeper than anyone would have known. He wouldn’t tell her of his first ever encounter with pirates, if he did, Barbossa himself wouldn’t be able to sleep. He wouldn’t speak of how he, as a young merchant captain, sailing back to his beloved wife and daughter, had come across a slowly sinking vessel, smoke billowing from her hatches, her stern end sticking higher out of the sea than her bow. Off in the distance sailed a sloop, her colors flapping in the wind behind her, a red flag with a black skull. He knew at once what fate the wounded vessel had suffered, would have passed by and let her sink, if not for the sound of wailing that came from her decks. A survivor? He owed it to a fellow sailor to offer his help, it was the way of the sea, and he ordered his crew to come about. But there was no dying sailor upon the deck.

A woman; she lay sobbing and blubbering in a puddle of blood, stripped naked, legs beaten and broken, spikes hammered through her very hands to the deck, her breasts torn off of her body and stretched over the two blocks and tackles arranged above her, so that she may lay there, dying, and staring up at them. He’d never seen such savagery; he’d never felt such sorrow for anyone else in his life, and he sure as hell wouldn’t tolerate such perverseness among any crew he captained. Such a lamentable woman, abused and broken, but for her lovely face, green eyes, alabaster skin, light brown hair, which the bastards had kept in pristine condition, so that they would have something pleasing to look at as they raped her; as soon as she’d realized that Barbossa stood over her, she’d began to scream like a lunatic, which by that time, she most likely was, he figured, who wouldn’t have been? Her scream chilled him, the reverberations of it rattling through him so badly that his hand trembled as he pulled his pistol, and ended the unfortunate woman’s suffering. To this day, Barbossa wished that he’d never set foot upon that beleaguered vessel. Never.

But he wouldn’t tell Elizabeth that story, she was already upset over something, and a tale like that one would surely do her no good to hear. Besides, thinking of that woman he’d found, while holding Elizabeth in his arms, were not two things he ever wanted have simultaneously. And yet they were, he realized, for he was holding her so tightly to him, as if trying to protect her from the same horrid butchery. No, he wouldn’t allow himself to dwell on this, wouldn’t allow himself to worry that Elizabeth was so vulnerable. There was another reason he spared women that he could tell her, and it might even soothe whatever her current ailment was some. He tightened his arms around her a little more and gave her another squeeze, almost as much for his own consolation as it was for hers. “Elizabeth, tis a way of leavin’ of me mark upon a ship I’ve attacked. If’n I spare the women, it would be understood that I wish for me women to be spared as well.”

Something sprung forth in her heart and blossomed into a warm, happy feeling. She’d known the Captain would be able to put her right, and he had, even if he didn’t realize he had. “You did it to protect me?” Elizabeth leaned more into him, searching for the sound of his heartbeat, a contented smile on her face now. Such a man.

“When haven’t I, even when we not be on the best a terms, given y’me protection, girl?” She was a more relaxed and serene bundle in his arms now, but something was still wrong, he could feel it. He wouldn’t be going back to sleep as was his plan, not yet.

He was right. She snuggled closer to him, she loved him so much, she owed him so much, those two feelings combining now with all the anxiety, fear, and despair she’d been feeling for days. She wasn’t sure if he’d always be there, but he was there now, and it felt like he’d always be there. Before she realized it, she was kissing his chest softly with lips and tongue, his big hand stroking over her hair as the other pushed her cotton nightdress down her shoulders.

There was something she wasn’t telling him, but her mood had improved enough, and if she wanted him or needed him to make love to her, to be a man to her, he would be; he was never too tired for that. But was that what she indeed wanted? Or was all her kissing and sucking of chest just to distract herself, but not truly lose herself in him? He reached down and caught her chin, raising her up his body and kissed her, proceeding slowly, waiting for her lips to part against his. And they did, a soft moan escaping her as his tongue met hers, one arm curling around his neck, the other hand lingering to play a finger around his nipple until he himself moaned. Yes, she did want him. Barbossa wrapped his arms around her waist, and rolled her to her back, his body above hers, and the kiss growing deeper.

Elizabeth sighed happily as his mouth left hers to move elsewhere. She couldn’t remember being touched like this, his attentions fully on her and about her, the pressure of his hands and lips stronger than usual, but yet soft, her body reading protection from them. For not knowing of her distress, the Captain was so very good to her. Again she felt a bit guilty. “Captain,” she breathed as his lips kissed the curve of her jaw. “I’m sorry for waking you.”

He lifted his head, looked down at her smiling. “Yer not.” He lowered his mouth to her neck and resumed his duties. Silly thing, had she expected he might believe that, and to say so now, when he wished to be awake just as badly as she’d wanted him awake to start with? No matter, they’d sleep for sure at the finish, soundly.

It had never felt so good to have his weight atop her before, or to have his mouth and beard on her neck, and his fingers undoing all the many buttons of her nightdress until none remained. His body was ready, cock rigid against her naked thigh as he slid her arms out of each sleeve, leaving her completely nude and lying above her nightdress, her legs spreading around him. This would feel good, on so many levels; her protector, her lover, the father of this child, for the moment, he was there for her. He moved down her body, kissing over her collarbone slowly, his strong hands beneath her shoulders, massaging the tenseness that tried to keep hold of her until it was nothing. His head dropped lower, beard tickling the swell of her breast, then her nipple, his warm mouth next, kissing her hardening peak with parted lips, slowly drawing it into his mouth as though he would have her tongue into his mouth when a tender moment was upon him. A wave of heat and desire for more spread out from the place his mouth worked, and Elizabeth gasped, arching her back up off the bed. “I love you,” the words spilled from her lips again and again in a whispered succession, like a desperately felt prayer.

Her words fell over him with such a felicitous enchantment that enveloped him every time she said them. His fingers replaced his mouth at her breast, he raised his head and brushed her murmuring lips with his, trying to taste the words as she proffered them. “Be y’afraid I’ll forget that, girl?” He whispered back against her lips. “I swear to ye, I won’t!”

His reply only made her more breathless, and she felt an almost happy flutter within her belly, something moving, swaying along with the rhythm of her beating heart. Still, she wanted to press further, try to win the words she’d spilled to him, she so needed to hear that the Captain loved her. She opened her mouth to speak, but found that she was not yet brave enough, and kissed him again instead, drawing his tongue deeply into her mouth as his hand left her breast and smoothed over her abdomen, his touch eliciting another happy flutter within it. If he only knew what he touched; if she could only tell him.

Whatever it was that bothered her seemed to make her more responsive, for she couldn’t be still beneath his touch, pressing her belly against his fingers as if she wanted him to reach into her after something. By the time his fingers skimmed the dark curls of her mound, she had to look away from his kiss to moan heartily, his fingertips wet with her desire and need before they’d even parted her outer lips to stroke her. Her scent was heavy upon him with each breath he drew, he could so nearly taste her, and the urge to do so became more than he could fight. He moved down her body, dragging his tongue over her neck, between her breasts, down her ribs, over her quivering belly and into the heat that radiated between her damp thighs. Elizabeth rolled her hips against his mouth as if she were the very ocean, restless and churning upon the bunk, trying to pull him deeper and all but bursting into tears as his tongue roved within her. She was so wet, so much of her to taste; Barbossa slid his hands beneath her buttocks and lifted her to his mouth, sucking at each delicate pink structure within her as it flared against his lips.

“Captain,” the word strained from her throat, though she had no question, order or statement to attach to it, she was too lost in the feeling of his sucking mouth and wild tongue, and much more to her delight, she was so held within his grasp that she had no escape from the impetuousness of his hunger. For the first time in weeks the fear and worry that had clouded her mind was replaced by a sea of vibrant, rolling colors that pulsated with each thrust of his tongue.

He hated to, but Barbossa made himself stop, lifted his head and set her down gently upon the bunk again. He was too ardent in his pursuit, would have usually brought her to her point, but he was ravenously devouring all the slickness she welled with, and he didn’t want her too dry when he took her. He’d meant to make this gentle and slow, like wrapping her in a passionate blanket of his affection for her that would set her at ease, and allow her to sleep the rest of the night, right after she told him what it was that struck her so worried. He rose back up her body, settling himself between her legs, giving his cock a stroke as if to harden it further, not wanting to wait to enter her until he was so in need of thrusting hard and fast that the sentiment he’d meant in this action was lost. She seemed ready enough, he nudged the head of his organ to her opening, but to his surprise, Elizabeth gave a tense hiss and drew up tight beneath him. He stopped immediately. What was it?

Stop it, she told herself again and again, but the memory of telling Jack of her pregnancy and the failed attempt at lovemaking that had followed it were now firmly entrenched in her mind. What if it hurt this time too? The Captain was a better shaped, better formed man than Jack, and she took comfort in that, but it was her own body that had let her down last time. What if she were too sensitive again? What if she couldn’t take him? No. She had to. If she didn’t, what good was she to him? A pregnant woman, whom he’d never said he loved, aboard his ship, taking up space, and of no emotional or carnal comfort to him at all. This had to happen, and it had to be pleasurable for him. But the more she thought about it, the more tense she became. “Captain, I’m sorry—“

“Shhhh,” a million thoughts went through Barbossa’s mind, none of them good. What had happened to her? His memory returned to that unfortunate, tortured woman he’d encountered on the deck of that sinking ship years ago. Elizabeth’s face suddenly replaced that of the poor soul, screaming as if mad. Quickly, and with a shudder, he pushed that image from his mind. But had his Elizabeth suffered some similar type of cruelty at the hands of a man? And if so, who? Jack? He’d bloody kill Jack if that were so! But now was not the moment to contemplate any revenge; he’d set out to calm her, and so he would. “Yer tremblin’ like I be hurtin y’girl.” His voice was soft, he cupped her cheek and stroked it, his eyes watching hers, trying to gleam some clue as to what she suffered. “Be I?”

“No,” she said quickly, for she’d learned, and she’d never admit to that at this moment, not even if he were hurting her. “Never!” She realized how anxious she sounded, and drew a deep breath. “I’m just…I guess I’m a bit distracted tonight, that’s all.”

With the way she was acting, she likely was, but why? He’d seen Elizabeth Swann in all her forms, wrathful, vengeful, loving, guilty, happy and lustful, but he liked not this scared and worried visage she wore. “Be y’sure?” She nodded, took another deep breath, and he felt her relax a bit beneath him. Still, Barbossa would be careful. “Give me yer hand,” he whispered, and as soon as she’d placed hers within his, he took it down to his erection, closing her hand around it, giving her control of it as he took his hand away to support his weight above her. She gripped him with her usual fervor, his organ contracting and making him groan and close his eyes as he breathed heavily, but he resisted the urge to thrust into her soft hand. “When yer ready,” he whispered lowly, brushing her lips with his. “Make us one.”

Never before had a man given Elizabeth this much control over their union, but that the Captain had was the most touching thing a man had ever done for her. He’d recognized she was scared, he’d roused himself from sleep to talk to her, and now he offered himself to her to further chase the bad thoughts from her mind. Such a man! Her body surged with its wet want of him. His cock was heavy in her hands, smooth skin over an unyielding hardness that arched up into her palm, awaiting her command. She smiled up at him and then kissed him again, spreading her legs, opening her hips more, and drew him forward, guiding the head of his cock to her dripping opening, tentatively encouraging him to thrust forward, her fingers ready to withdraw him if the pain came. Her body quaked beneath his as she fed him within her more and more, slowly, but there was no feeling of being scraped, or pulled apart. There was only the sensation of being filled with his wonderful body and strength. Soon, he was fully within her, and her hand rested between them, fingers lightly tracing where her body met his, and they both moaned, trembled and gasped for breath.

“Elizabeth, how is it that y’feel?” He asked, her sheath still adjusting around him in the most delightful of ways. He wanted to move, wanted to guide her body into hugging his organ appropriately with his thrusts, but he didn’t dare. Something was different with her tonight, she required more care, and he’d give it.

Something pleasant and comforting was inching its way up her body, bit by bit, making her smile and making her desire for him rise and rise. She felt him inside her as though it was the first time, his strong body still, but his cock pounding. Her channel contracted once, squeezed him, Barbossa gave a growl, but it faded in comparison to the appetite suddenly stoked within her. There was no pain, there was no failure; there was only a man so far giving her all that she needed, save for the words, “I love you.” IT would make things so much easier if he’d just say so to her. Later, she’d make a point to ask him later. And if he said them, then she’d tell him of his child. “I want you.”

Barbossa smiled, distributed his weight above her a bit more. She was more the woman he was accustomed to bedding now, though not quite. “And so tell me, how is it to be tonight?”

Ordinarily she’d have enjoyed being given these choices in a more lusty and selfish way, but she knew he didn’t ask her only to inquire about what would pleasure her most. His caution and compassion was never ending…why couldn’t he just say he loved her? “Deep.” She did want him deep, wanted to feel all of him with every stroke, loving her.

“Deep.” Barbossa repeated, and knew just how to give her that, began to get to his knees, lifting her pelvis as he did. He looked down at her with half a smirk. “Why is it y’never say ‘tight?’”

Before Elizabeth could laugh, the Captain had lifted both her legs and thrust himself a bit deeper as he brought her feet to his broad shoulders. He slid within her deeply, so deeply, his cock pressed right against the solid neck of her womb, and they both drew a ragged breath, the pleasure shared between them. He crouched over her, her feet above his head on either side of his neck now, her spine curved up and off the mattress towards his groin, shortening the length of her channel and making his cock feel so much longer. She gripped his strong arms as he drew back and came forward again, nice and slow, waiting for her approval, and she gave it in a pleading groan. “More.”

He couldn’t move fast, or hard, but he hadn’t wanted to. Elizabeth soon was in the squirming, groundless state he’d meant to put her in, but there was still more to show her. His hand smoothed up to her ankle on his shoulder. “Push down with yer heels into me shoulders,” he whispered; his gaze upon her as he made love to her. Her eyes never opened, her breathing never slowed, but he felt her calves flex against his chest and her heels press against his shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat suddenly as the action pulled her more onto his cock, forcing his organ up against her deepest point and holding it there until her spastic body relaxed and her legs went limp. Barbossa was again out of breath, it always felt good to be deep within a woman, particularly her. “There, y’may do that as much as y’like.”

The sensations released when she moved on him in the manner he’d taught her were like tremors of the earth bounding through her soul. For all his length, Jack had never managed to meet the deep point that Barbossa did, but Elizabeth understood more and more that the Captain had experience and expertise that Jack had never even dreamed of. Again she pushed her heels against his strong shoulders, the Captain thrust forward, they met one another, each as far as the other could go; their bodies twisting as fire was unleashed within them, its sizzling sound on their lips. Her body was pleasantly restless beneath his, quaking and shifting, trying almost to sit up against him. Her muscles relaxed again, and he withdrew, thrusting in again as soon as her legs flexed against his body. She’d asked for deep, and he’d given it to her, she’d never had a man so deeply within her, never had control enough to keep him so deeply within her for as long as she wished it. And his cock pressing to the surprisingly sensitive corridor of her womb was so intense that Elizabeth’s body lay shivering and bucking wildly, without need for the Captain to move at all, though his groaning and growling told her he took some great pleasure in it himself.

It was the vibrations of her body around him that strummed his buried cock to spasm after incredible spasm, but he held off, not allowing orgasm to creep upon him so soon. His main concern was Elizabeth, who seemed for the moment to be so overly pleasured that all she thought, felt and wanted was his cock deep inside her. With another thrust and flex of her heel against his shoulder, he gave that to her again. She’d learned to rotate her hips from side to side as they pressed their bodies together now, and she was once more spilling “I love you” from her lips like the babbling of a brook. He hadn’t the breath to answer this time, concentrating so hard on not cumming, not until she had. But Barbossa felt her hand on his, peeling it up off the mattress, and placing it just above her nest of dark curls, holding it there.

“What am I to you?” The question was sudden, but she had to know, still it had surprised her to hear herself asking him. The pleasure he gave her was nearly like being drunk; she hoped she wouldn’t say anything else. Again she moved on him, could feel his cock straining for orgasm deep within her, felt her own body following suit. Such a lover, such a man. No one else had ever given her protection, respect and pleasure. Why wouldn’t he let her add ‘love’ to the list of that which he’d given her? She loved him, Captain Hector Barbossa, the greatest, noblest, most loving of men she’d ever met. The baby, she felt the baby, as sure as she felt the man she was bred to. “Do you,” she hesitated, but felt the baby, had to know. “Do you lo—“

“Shh,” he hissed strongly, but moved gently, giving her more of him, taking more of her, no longer certain of how long he could last, the spasms in his cock spreading throughout his body. But now he fought for a different sort of control. He was on the edge of so many things, and one of them was more precarious than the rest. Yes, he loved her, but it was no good to say so; he killed the only woman he’d ever said that to. “I won’t say it, I can’t say it. Stop yer askin’ it.” Again she used to her legs to thrust onto him, he moved forward in return, filling her full and deep, both of them shuddering so badly the bunk shook with them. He leaned down closer to her, gathered her in strong arms; pulled her head to his pounding heart. God help him loved her, entirely too much! “Why do y’need me to say it? Can’t y’feel it?”

Her concentration was less and less, the cabin filled with their grunting gasps of intensity, need and desire. Her body stiffened, orgasm pricked now and rising within her though the usual spots that gave it rise, her clitoris and the spongy mass within her, had not been fussed over. Again, she swore she felt the baby. “I feel too many things to name,” she managed between breaths.

“That be it, then.” He replied, and moved his hand from her belly up to her chest to pinch each of her nipples quickly, knowing it would set her off into a faster, bucking pace, that would finally bring about an end to the wonderful misery that trapped them both.

There was a scream, then a growl, then a few good strong thrusts at one another, and after that neither one quite remembered what happened, other than their bodies unwinding, she convulsing around him as he expanded and contracted within her, the almighty release more than either of their minds could approach. Now they lay, one wrapped around the other, her back to his chest, head resting on the biceps of the arm threaded beneath her, the other securely around her waist, his leg over her hip, their breathing and pulses nearly back to normal.

It would be easier to sleep now, for Elizabeth was too tired to stay awake. More comforting was that he’d almost said that he loved her! But then again, he’d also said he’d never say it. Was almost saying it enough? Should she tell him now? She’d better decide soon, she could feel the Captain quickly succumbing to sleep once again. She took another deep breath, not sure this was the wisest thing to do, but so far, he’d not given her any obvious reason that he would suddenly turn her out for being in such a condition. It was his child she carried. He deserved to know. “Captain,”

“Mmmm.” Now what? Did she wish to know if he’d spare Jack if the inelegant sot were dressed like a woman? Barbossa wanted sleep, but he also wanted to know what it was that was bothering her, and so he listened, with closed eyes.

Her nerve faltered, but she pressed on. “Captain, I’m…” Why, upon why, could he not have just said that he loved her? No. This would wait, until he did say so. And if he didn’t, then she’d never tell him, would find a way to hide it from him.

Barbossa opened his eyes, lifted his head from the pillow. This could be what he was waiting for her to finally share with him, her voice was stressed, she trembled in his embrace. “Elizabeth?”

Well, she’d awakened him again; she’d better come up with something good to tell him. She thought and thought, knowing she didn’t have much time, wishing things were not so difficult, wishing there was some way of guaranteeing that he’d always want her, no matter what, that she’d always be of value to him. And then she smiled, knowing exactly how she could endear herself to him, forever, no matter what, he may even say that he loved her! “Captain,” she said again, rolling over to face him with renewed confidence, and meaning every word she was about to speak. “If you take me to Jack, I’ll get you back your Pearl!”