Parlait

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“Oh, Captain,” Elizabeth sighed as she lay back across their bed, it was good to feel him bending forward over her, between her legs as his strong hands spread them, wonderful to feel the tickle of his beard in the bend of her thigh, the caress of his lips against her delicate, responsive, pink skin, the pliable firmness of his hot tongue as it snaked inside her. No one was as good at this as he was, no one, and she’d been too long without it. Her elixirs rolled forth over his tongue and lips, making his touch so much more sensual and his hunger so much greater. The Captain groaned as his tongue swept through her, twisting against her erect clitoris, daringly taking it between his teeth, scraping just enough on the underside to make Elizabeth’s abdominal muscles grow suddenly tense, then her body shook as the warm care of his tongue nourished her little organ’s need for comfort after such thrilling abuse.

She willed him to stay in service there forever, but as he had never been a man she could dominate into anything, the Captain rose to his feet, kissing up her body until his mouth claimed hers, fingers combing through her hair as he thrust his tongue into her mouth; his silent order for her to suck it and his lips clean of her taste, something she eagerly did, reaching down between them and wrapping her fist around his hardness, squeezing and stroking until his big body jerked above hers, and he broke their kiss to gasp.

“Imagine,” she smiled at him breathlessly, drinking in how he felt above her, once so afraid that he’d never want to know her thusly again. She stroked his cock again, Barbossa grunted, thrust into her grasp and kissed her neck, giving her an impassioned little nip that made her giggle. She did the same to his broad chest and again stroked his throbbing cock, tracing the sticky head with her thumb. “Such a funny thing can feel so very good!”

“Funny?” He half snorted, but his disdain for the adjective she’d chosen soon faded into an eager growl as her fingers moved over him. He took more of his weight on his hands, aligning himself above her, removing her clutching fingers from his wanton organ. “Would y’be ready to regale it within yer depths now, or aren’t y’done with belittlin’ it yet?”

Again she laughed, wrapped her arms around him and kissed him; so masterful, such a dry, sarcastic wit, this man, her man. “I’ve already been waiting for far too long, Captain.” Her legs spread wider, she felt him positioning himself, drawing back just enough to come forward again, the bluntness of his cockhead spreading open her slit, invading a place that would always be his. “Yes,” she gasped and moved beneath him as he sank within her for the first time in what seemed an eternity, inch by inch making her his again as his heavy, hot breath hissed passed her ear. Elizabeth shivered around him as the Captain ground his shuddering strength against her, it was heavenly to have him like this again, to hold him, home again, some distance below her heart, and yet so deeply within it. He moved now, the power of the sensations shared between them greater than his ability to set their rhythm, but Elizabeth wanted not something uniformed and tamed, she wanted him, in all his feral need for her. “Don’t stop,” her voice a hoarse whisper as her body struggled to reacquaint itself with his. “Just fuck me,” she arched her back off the mattress, her hands racing down his back and stopping to grasp his strong, round buttocks as he pumped into her again and again, trying to pull him deeper. The feelings she’d been missing for so many days rose within her again, stirred to life and rocking her heart on their ocean of desire, idolatry, security and love. This is how she’d fallen in love with him, this was where, this is what she’d felt, his masculine heft whetting her feminine concupiscence, the fiery gleam of passion brimming and blooming into a love like no other she’d ever felt. “Fuck me!” She gasped again and shoved her body to his, his cock deep, so deep. “I can feel that you love me when you fuck me!”

He was hammering her now, their gasps and throaty moans wrapped around the other as their lips and tongues mingled, her body as full of him as he was encompassed within her, moving together, reunited. “Don’t let me hurt y’girl,” his whisper was broken by several needed breaths as the desire for more rose within him, Elizabeth feeling it just as prominently, reveling in the thought of how very strong the man above her was, and how long it had been since she’d felt it. The Captain gathered her in his strong arms, kissed her and thrust himself deep, moving fast, giving her not a moment to so much as catch her breath, but kept coming at her, rapid and hard, surrendering to his need for her. “I do love y’Elizabeth.”

The words were spoken against her lips; she felt each one as his lips formed them and her heart swelled with them. Yes, this union, though far from over, was complete. Or was it? He loved her, had said so, there was yet something more she so desperately wished to give him. “Keep loving me,” Elizabeth whispered with a happy new desire bursting forth. “Make me know I’m yours, reclaim every hole,” she wrapped her legs around his waist and held him tightly as he thrashed above her, cock swelling near to its bursting point inside her. “And for God’s sake, Captain, gorge me with your seed and make me have your child!”

There was a sudden shrill noise, the curtains around the bed were pulled open, and Elizabeth’s eyes flew open as well, assaulted by the daylight that flooded the cabin. There stood Dr. Blood, a handsome smile on his lips, bowl in his hand, complete with spoon. Elizabeth looked up at him breathlessly, and disappointedly. Again she’d dreamed of making love to the Captain, again the dream had been real enough to harden her nipples and moisten her crotch, and again, Blood had awakened her from it for milk toast. Milk toast…oh how she hated it, it was worse aboard ship then she remembered it being back in Port Royal throughout her varied childhood illnesses. Aboard The Reproach the toast was substituted by lumps of dried bread, soaking in a stretched and thinned mix of one part warm milk and two parts water, a bit of butter, or sometimes even lard, melted into it and pinch of cinnamon on the top. It had been almost a week since she’d lost the child, and still Dr. Blood brought her milk toast for breakfast, lunch and dinner. Milk toast indeed! She’d come lately to gag on it, the goopy, anemic, soft glop; she longed for so much more.

“Good morning,” Dr. Blood smiled at her, he was always so cheerful when he awakened her and handed her the bowl of utter puke, as though he derived some enjoyment in it. She truly thought he did, and she may have liked the man had it not been for how he forced her to stay in bed, restricted all her activities and will, and constantly brought her milk toast.

Elizabeth sighed. “Good morning, doctor.” She stared down into the bowl forlornly. Milk toast, it and the doctor were her only company; she’d not seen Barbossa since the night she’d lost their child, they hadn’t talked, hadn’t grieved, hadn’t seen one another face to face. She’d never felt as lonely as this. But always, there was milk toast, pasty, soft, warm, blandness; somehow her breakfast made her think of Will Turner. Will Turner. Jack Sparrow. Oh how she longed for something more, so very much more! She lowered her bowl and turned to her only contact with the world outside the cabin. She knew he knew what she would next ask, their repertoire was by now quite established, as was the bantering annoyance it often brought between them. “Have you talked with him this morning?”

Blood nodded but was busy examining something on her neck, chest and cheeks. “I’ll tell you in a moment, Miss Elizabeth,” he sighed, his brow furrowed in concern. “You’re very flushed and warm to the touch. It’s troubling to you find you as such each morning.”

Her dream, Elizabeth felt her skin blush an even deeper shade of red. “Oh,” she tried to sigh casually. “It’s nothing, I feel fine.” She pulled away from Blood’s scrutiny, picked up the spoon and stirred at the creamy muck she was to eat…again. “So you’ve spoken with him, then?”

Blood sighed; every morning it was the same thing; argue with her to make her eat, answer her same questions about Captain Barbossa and be forced to reenact the pirate’s facial expressions as they were when he said certain things that were of interest to her, Elizabeth always seeking some deeper meaning behind all that the old rogue was reported to have said. “Eat.”

“Tell me of your conversation with the Captain first!”

“No, no, no,” Blood laughed. “And give you all the leverage so immediately? Why don’t you eat, as I tell you?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes and stared down into her bowl. “Oh, all right,” she groaned, taking up the spoon again and scooping up a disagreeable lump and glaring at it. “If that’s what it takes.”

Blood watched her with great amusement, a smirk on his face. “Your devotion to your older gentleman love is truly inspiring.”

She’d have glared at Blood next, but she’d just put the spoon into her mouth when he’d commented, and now she was overtaken by the warm, bland, lumpiness of milk toast and she closed her eyes and choked it down. Oh what vile stuff, how was anyone to recover eating this day and night? “Where is he sleeping? In the galley among his crew still?”

“Yes,” Blood again sighed, each morning she asked, each morning he confirmed her suspicions. “You do realize you’re the only woman aboard ship, and so his fidelity is likely not a concern you should have, don’t you?”

Elizabeth rolled her eyes at him. “I ask because I am concerned about a far different matter.”

“And what might that be?” Blood smiled, he’d given up hopes of charming her away from Barbossa days ago, her heart was so very set on him, but still, Elizabeth Swann was quite a worthy adversary when it came to conversation, or aggravation. “I assure you that it’s not some sudden senility that has so fiercely overtaken him and caused him to no longer remember where his cabin is, and who you are.”

Elizabeth dropped her spoon and leveled a hateful stare at Blood. How dare he? “Senility, doctor?” She snapped at him. “Apologize!”

“Miss Elizabeth,” Blood laughed, she and he would never be anything of romantic consequence as he’d once considered, but Elizabeth was the best thing about being captured. Even Captain Barbossa was surprisingly not the monster he was purported to be, and dare Blood think so, he liked him. “You are so very sensitive, and I apologize for offending that about you. It was meant in jest; he’s quite a man, your Captain, so very un-afflicted and more vigorous than the men half his age; a veritable medical mystery.”

“Fine then,” she huffed, and stabbed at her milk toast again. “Then, you don’t think sleeping in a hammock all these nights is doing him any ill effects, do you?” But she hoped Blood would say it was possible, so she could then tell him to suggest this evidence to the Captain, and hopefully, somehow, she’d have Barbossa lying beside her at night.

There were times when she was asleep that she swore she smelled a cigar, and swore she felt the Captain’s fingers trace her cheek and brush through her hair, felt his hands gently rub her back or shoulders. She’d even felt his beard and mustache tickle against her cheek as his lips pressed ever so lightly upon hers, but it was always so difficult to wake up, and when she was able to rouse herself enough to open her eyes, she was alone. She’d hoped one morning that she’d awake in his arms, that instead of being satisfied with a stroke of her hair and a feather-light kiss, he’d join her in their bed to sleep. That was all she wanted, just to lay next to him, he didn’t even have to speak to her, though she desperately wished for them to talk, but for now she’d have been overjoyed just to have the Captain hold her. She was so sure Barbossa had come to visit with her as she slept; he had to have, how else could she explain waking with the taste of his cigars on her lips, and his sword suddenly gone missing from where he’d thrown it into the hull? She hadn’t seen him, he’d made sure of that, but he’d been there, with her…hadn’t he? She had been dreaming a lot lately, in sound, deep sleeps, and always of the Captain, and always did the Captain tell her he loved her. But were not all her dreams of the Captain quite as erotic as the ones that she woke from flushed and fevered? Had Barbossa merely ordered Blood to retrieve the sword?

Blood shrugged his shoulders, a bit frustrated still, but also touched by her concern for Barbossa. “His spine seems to be in impeccable form, as is the rest of him. When we spoke this morning, he was in the midst of some practiced swordplay, himself taking on three of his officers, and defeating them all.” He saw Elizabeth smile. “Our conversation ended as he leapt up and grabbed hold of a ratline and completed some fifty or so chin ups with ease.”

Elizabeth smiled again; it was good to know the Captain was well, even if the hammock was not contributing some debilitating ailment to his back that would have perhaps forced him to return to the bed she so badly wished to share with him. Well, moving on then, she had other questions, and other schemes to hatch. She missed her lover so much more than she’d ever missed anything. “Was it he who—“

“Yes, it was he who asked me about you.” Blood sighed, taking a seat in the chair beside the bed, and readied himself for the rest of the inquest to come.

Elizabeth smiled, the Captain still asked about her. “Did you tell him—“

“Yes, I told him you have been asking for him.”

“Did he appear—“

“The face of a gambler, Miss; he revealed nothing when I said so.”

“Did he at least state that—“

“No, I’m terribly sorry to report to you that he did not at least state that he missed you.” Blood answered, and then before she could start again added. “And I heard no wavers in his voice, nor did he clear his throat as if he meant to say anything that he decided against voicing at the last moment, nor did he sigh, or shake his head, or grumble like a, as you’ve so often put it, ‘snoring bear’ and look out to sea at something only his eyes could behold as if he were lost deep in thought or memory.”

Elizabeth sighed, getting nowhere again, as usual. She shoved another dreaded spoonful of milk toast into her mouth and noticed how smug Blood looked. She scowled; he didn’t know everything she’d ask! “What was he wearing?”

Blood’s eyebrow arched and he laughed; it was good to be asked something different for once this week. “Boots of brown leather and red breeches.”

“Red?” The color reported overshadowed the image of the Captain shirtless…doing chin ups...well, perhaps it hadn’t completely overshadowed it, but red breeches? “Are you certain you’ve been speaking with the right man?”

“Madame, indeed I am!” Blood guffawed, and said some other thing that was likely entertaining to himself, but Elizabeth’s mind began turning.

The Captain wore red breeches? Hmmm…months ago when she’d frantically been delving through Barbossa’s wardrobe in search of something to put on in order to raid a vessel with the crew, she’d seen a pair of red breeches. How had the Captain gotten to them? The same way he’d retrieved his sword, the same way she’d felt his touch in her sleep and woke with the taste of the cigar he’d smoked on her lips? She smiled tauntingly at her would-be friend Blood, who was getting far too much enjoyment out of this. “Doctor, correct my recollection if it is wrong, but hadn’t you said that I am to be watched at all times incase I began to bleed again?”

“Yes, and you have been.” Blood answered; his laughing smile still on his face. “Go on then, make your complaint.”

“No, I’ve a question instead.” Elizabeth smiled, and handed him the bowl of milk toast, for she no longer had to eat it; their bargaining was about to end. “You are with me all day, and throughout nightfall. You are here when I fall asleep, and you wake me with the most wretched of breakfasts each morning, but—“

Blood’s expression went serious, perhaps a bit more nervousness showing than he’d planned as well. “Elizabeth, whatever it is you think you’re about to get me to reveal—“

She ignored him. “Who is it that watches over me while I sleep?”

Blood drew a deep breath. “That would also be me, Elizabeth.”

She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. The doctor may have resembled Will Turner, but he was so frustratingly less malleable. “Is that so?”

“It is.”

“Are you certain?”

“I am.”

“Oh,” She pretended for a moment to be satisfied, looked away from Blood, but then back again with triumph in her eyes. “So I suppose it has also been you, who while I am sleeping, has been touching my person, smoking the Captain’s cigars, handling his sword, rifling through his clothes and kissing my mouth?”

“Elizabeth, you’re delusional!” Blood insisted, but he felt the deck stacked quite against him; Barbossa did all that during his watch? How did he think Elizabeth was never to notice?

“What?” She smiled at Blood, seeing that she’d had him quite flustered now. “Has he sworn you to some secrecy? Is that it? He doesn’t want me to know that he’s been coming to me?” Her smile broadened, she’d figured it out; it was so like the Captain to do something like this! He’d refused to say that he loved her, but he also had never said that he didn’t. And now, he refused to see her when she could have seen him, but he was with her! She sat up straight, moved her legs over the side of the bed, prepared to stand up for the first time in days. The Captain still cared for her, that was certain, and she knew just how to get him to come to her, now, when she was conscious.

“Elizabeth, what are you doing?” Blood was frantic, getting to his feet as she got to hers. “You’re not well enough to be standing!” And if she were about to do what he imagined she was about to do, he may not be so well for very much longer himself.

On unsteady feet she wobbled a few steps, then lunged passed the doctor for the cabin door, yanking it open as she fell forward. The sun blinded her, warmed her skin again and it felt so wonderful, as did the sea breeze in her hair, it was good to be just this much out in the open. If only she could see, but she’d not been in such bright surroundings for so long. Her balance…well, there was none. “Captain!” She called out with all the breath in her lungs, knowing he had to be somewhere on deck, but before she even had the word out, she fell forward into a blind, pathetic, tired, paralyzed lump of weak muscles. She’d known as soon as she stepped foot on the floor that she would fall, perhaps not as hard as she did, but she also knew that if she fell on deck, Barbossa would be at her side in a flash. She wasn’t wrong.

“Sink me, girl! What in the name a hell be y’doin?” The deck creaked under his heavy form as he ran to her, The Reproach seeming to list beneath each step of his wide stride, he couldn’t get to her fast enough. He’d heard the cabin door creak open, assumed it were Blood coming back on deck, but then he’d heard Elizabeth’s caterwauling, and looked up in time to see her crumple to the deck. It wasn’t good, a woman with child, or a woman who’d had or lost a child, falling like that! They’d been so nearly done nursing her through the critical bit of recovery, and she’d showed no signs of further bleeding or infection, and now she fell? Where the hell was Blood?

She was trying to get to her feet when Barbossa reached her, Blood quickly appearing in the doorway at the same moment, Elizabeth gasping in frustration when she couldn’t move. Barbossa lowered himself to her level, taking her by the shoulders and fighting the urge to shake some sense into her. “Yer to stay in bed, y’daft, beleaguered little thing!”

“But,” She tried to speak, but was trying even harder to see the Captain’s face, what expression did he wear, but he was preoccupied with getting his arms around her and lifting her into them as he stood. “I wanted to…to…” She melted, held against him, against his chest, his body warm, his heart beating so near hers, the strength of his arms enveloping her, all of her melted. She may have heard herself sigh, knew that her head fell against his shoulder, stealing some little morsel of a snuggle as Barbossa stepped back inside with her.

He glared at Blood as he walked towards the bed, fighting hard not to tuck Elizabeth more against him, and nuzzle his beard against her forehead as soon as he’d felt her nestle against him. No, it was too soon, he was still angry with her, and hurt…and too disappointed and ashamed of himself for how he’d acted to absorb any happy tenderness she offered. He’d not been ready to see Elizabeth in anymore capacity than she was when asleep; how had this situation even come to pass? Blood! Barbossa’s glare turned to a glower. “This be why I keep y’alive, lad! To prevent her from dumpin’ her guts all o’er me ship!”

Elizabeth caught Blood’s sympathetic glance just before he turned his attention to Barbossa. She smiled, no one knew more than Blood how she wished to see the Captain. “My many apologies, Captain,” he said to Barbossa, kneeling down by her side as his patient was lowered into bed, her hands clinging to the Captain for as long as was possible. Once more Blood began pressing his fingertips into the skin of her forearms and watching as the white areas again flushed pink. He was relieved to see that they did so; Elizabeth had taken quite a risk by standing, walking, and then falling. “I hadn’t thought she was strong enough yet to stand, but that she is so very soon is encouraging.”

“She ship shape, then?” Barbossa asked, still hovering over Elizabeth closely, though he was sure not to look at her. Looking may lead to talking, and other than “Elizabeth, I’m a sorry old bastard who can’t find bollocks enough to tell ye I love ye,” there was nothing else to say, and he didn’t want to say that.

He could feel her eyes on him though, watching his every move, trying to discern anything at all in his body language, fighting to see his face, but he kept his head turned away from her. And yet his hand took off of its own accord, caressing Elizabeth’s cheek, then over her ear and stroking through her hair. Damned Calypso! Women so often had more control over a young man’s body then did the young man himself, and Barbossa was once again so influenced. He jerked his hand away from her, but not before she turned her face into his palm and brushed her lips against the heel of his hand. He felt himself shudder, and he permitted himself a glance down at Elizabeth, laying there drinking in what little touch he offered her, so eager and hungry for more. Barbossa was weakening, he’d missed her and worried over her so very much these past days, couldn’t keep himself away from her, even though he’d sworn he would; instead giving in to sit by her side at night, and even then, he was unable to halt himself from grazing his hands over her form soothingly whenever she happened to make some small little noise of a dream, or toss in her sleep. And the cigar he’d lit up, it hadn’t been deterrent enough to stop him from leaning over her and whispering, “I love y’more ‘an I’ll ever say, y’daft, beleaguered little thing.” What might he do next? He had to get out of this cabin.

“She appears to be fine,” Blood finally said after looking in both Elizabeth’s eyes and giving both her wrists a squeeze. “We’ll continue to watch her as usual, just to be certain.” Blood glanced at Barbossa, who was now looking down at Elizabeth, and he wondered if he should just slip out of the cabin now. One thing was for sure, if the two of them would finally talk, mornings with Elizabeth would be so much less tedious. But they didn’t talk, each of them seemingly afraid to. Blood sighed. “Does it hurt anywhere, Elizabeth?”

She batted her eyes nervously, felt some relief now in looking to the doctor, for she couldn’t read Barbossa’s thoughts, knew only that he looked grim. “Just my knee,” she said, and at the moment she did, the Captain shifted, looked concerned, his hand covering her knee before Blood’s even got there. She couldn’t help her gasp, joy spreading within her, the touch of the Captain’s hand making the ache vanish. She repressed her smile, knew how to make Barbossa linger over her now. “And my elbow…”

But this time it was Blood who touched the area she’d specified, realizing her game and his subsequent faux pas when Elizabeth scowled at him. He squinted a sorry glance her way, but turned to Barbossa. “Doesn’t appear serious, sir.”

Again Barbossa retracted his hand, and forced himself to his feet. It was best to leave now, he’d already said too much, though he’d said hardly anything to her at all. “Good then,” he was careful to avoid Elizabeth’s pleading eyes, she clearly wished he’d stay, and damn him, he wanted to do just that. “If’n she’s so fleet a foot lately, be givin’ her that what makes her sleep at night in the day time as well.”

“What?” Elizabeth sat up, her temper flaring as this new information instantly clicked in her mind. Was this why it was so difficult for her to wake all those times she felt the Captain near her, touching her, kissing her? How dare she be blocked from waking to that, to him! And her dreams, was this also why they were so vivid? How dare…well, she enjoyed the dreams, though she often woke frustrated. But she’d been cheated out of seeing Barbossa, cheated out of moments when they could have talked! She looked up at Barbossa, too angry to be passive any longer. Had this been his idea? “You’ve been drugging me?”

Her sudden anger surprised him, caught him a bit off guard and Barbossa looked down at her narrowed eyes, felt apologetic words on his tongue, but pushed them aside, glancing towards Blood instead. “I not be druggin’ y’girl, he be the one druggin’ ye!”

The doctor huffed at having been suddenly tossed into the middle of their argument, wanting to find his way out of it before Elizabeth’s anger was directed at him, but it was too late.

“Doctor Blood!” she snarled, noticed an amused smile creep into the Captains features, and she built up more venom to unleash upon Blood, for it seemed that it may somehow win her back her man. “You are the most pompous, arrogant—“

“Madame!” Blood interjected. “I assure you that any medications I have administered to you were per your recovery. You required as much rest as was possible.” Elizabeth fell silent, though her face was still angry; Blood nodded his head towards the Captain. “It was he who just recently suggested I start prescribing them gratuitously.” Blood turned towards Barbossa, and grinned at him.

Elizabeth sat back in vexed disbelief, not sure which of them she was the most mad with, but after a brief exchange of dirty looks between himself and Blood, the Captain turned towards the cabin door. “Just do what y’must to keep her in that bed, sawbones!”

He was leaving? Just like that, he was gone? After what she’d risked in order to lure him in here, he was leaving, without saying anymore than he had? “Where are you going?” Elizabeth demanded of his broad back and shoulders.

“Ship to run,” he shrugged, and kept walking, swearing he wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t look back.

Her anger faded, replaced by panic, she couldn’t lose him, not now, it would be forever before she was likely to see him face to face again if things kept up this way; Elizabeth’s eyes shifted to Blood’s, seeking his aide. In a split second they had a silent conversation of glances, Blood’s eyes spelling out his refusal, but adding his encouragement, seeming to tell her, “if there’s one thing you’re good at, it’s knowing how to get what you want!” Yes, she was, a skill left over from being a governor’s daughter, but what could she say to distract the Captain back to her and make him stay? Make him talk to her? Her heart beat as though it might jump through her chest, she had to think of something, or those dreams she’d had each night would never come true! Her dreams…the Captain’s hand gripped the door handle.

“I want to have another baby!”

Both the men in the room flinched and quailed, like dropped from a noose, their expressions as startled as if suddenly hanging by their necks. Elizabeth however sought out the Captain’s eyes, trying to hide her smirk, for she could tell she had him, he wouldn’t be going anywhere now.

“Well,” Blood’s voice disturbed the cumbersome stillness in the cabin. He put his hat back on his head and shifted his weight on his feet towards the door, taking a few steps before reaching out to pat Barbossa on a broad shoulder. “Captain, I see that this has now become your watch,” he gave Barbossa an improvised salute of some sort, and opened the cabin door, stepping through it, but turning back to the couple who remained inside before he pulled closed the door. “Just before you go about nature’s course, bear in mind she’s still got three weeks of…’celibacy’ to complete.”

The door closed, leaving the Captain to Elizabeth, and Elizabeth to the Captain.