Nowhere Fast

Author's Note: WIP; I'm posting this it too see how it is received because I'm not quite done with it. So if anyone thinks of any way I can make it better, please say so.

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You only have yourself to blame. You know you shouldn’t have challenged him. Not in this game. Admittedly, he started it all just by being who he is, but you just couldn’t let it go. You just couldn’t let him win. It’s not in your nature to be spineless. You love games almost as much as he does, so of course you would take him up on his unspoken challenge. You just never knew that what you were doing wasn’t just a game. You never allowed yourself to realize that the game ended weeks ago and now it’s just the two of you waiting for the other to break.

You never know when he’ll show up, having to adapt to his appearing unannounced. He even uses his absence as a way to play the game, making you wait in anticipation for his next appearance. For days you’ve thought about leaving Tortuga for a few weeks, hoping that it will be in those few weeks that he’ll show up. You finally decided that you would do it, loving the thought of turning one of his own techniques against him.

You didn’t pack much, only what you needed for a few days, and you left. You didn’t go far, only to the next closest town, but it was far enough. Staying there was torturous; you hadn’t expected that. The thought of missing one of his visits was turning you inside-out. You begun to hate your brilliant plan, finding it pointless if you were only ending up in driving yourself insane. Besides, the chances of his choosing that exact time to visit is slim. You doubt he’s being affected by this at all.

Only lasting three days, you quickly make your way back home. It takes a few hours, but you sigh in relief when you arrive in Tortuga. The walk to your house is short, not being very far from the docks, and when you get there you half expect him to be sitting on your front step. He isn’t and you aren’t really surprised. You’re just pleased that you didn’t miss a visit and plan on thinking of something else to get at him with.

Walking inside, you drop your bag just inside the front door, shutting it behind you. Something seems different, but you just can’t place what. Walking into your bedroom, you scan the room and still find nothing out of place. The second you stop looking, your eyes fall on a very familiar tri-corn leather hat. And it seems that the second you spot the hat, strong hands slide around your sides, pulling your body back roughly against a chest. You gasp and hold the breath in, holding your spine stiff, and try to ignore the sudden heaviness in your stomach.

Lips brush against the back of your head when he speaks into your hair, “Where were you?”

His voice is tense, laced with something you can’t recognize. You almost feel nervous, unsure of his emotions, his thoughts. You think it better not to answer and keep quiet. He pulls you in tighter against him, his body molding to yours, and he smoothes a hand down your side to dig his fingers into your outer thigh. You breath in deeply, not moving, but not being able to ignore how his body feels. How his fingers feel pressing through the material of your skirt.

The hand on your thigh slides around, coming dangerously close to the juncture between your thighs. Your eyes slide shut, not being able to keep them open any longer. You bite your lip, refusing to make a sound. He’s playing a game and you refuse to let him win.

“For one day and…twelve hours I have been here, waiting for you,” his voice is low and directly affects your heart beat. The feeling in your stomach grows and you now understand what people mean by butterflies. It feels like there are thousands of them bouncing around inside your stomach.

You think that he may be angry with you judging by how roughly his hands are touching you. You never would have thought that a man touching you in any way that wasn’t gentle would stir arousal. You don’t think it would matter how he touches you, as long as he’s touching you.

“You must not enjoy this,” he mutters against the side of your neck, the hand on your waist skimming up the side of your breast. Without warning, you’re left cold. You stumble, not having realized that you were leaning back against him. Spinning around, you fix him with a glare.

You keep the glare in place, using the opportunity to look at him. His toned body is leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed against his chest, a hip cocked out. He looks exactly the same as the last time you saw him, except for the lack of his leather hat and his face. His brows are lowered and he’s fixing you with dark eyes. His mouth is set in a hard line and you realize that he really is angry with you.

You allow a small smirk to creep up the corner of your mouth as you take a step towards him. “Did I forget to tell you I was taking a little vacation?”

“Watch what ye say to me,” he warns, his voice graveled.

“Angry with me Jack? I thought you enjoyed our game.”

His jaw clenches and you keep the smirk in place even though you’re heavily intimidated. You’ve never seen him so tense before. His entire body is rigid, a glaring difference from how relaxed he usually is. You realize that the game is being taken to a whole new level. You know that if you aren’t careful, it can get out of hand. In a few minutes you’ll back down and diffuse the situation. The whole point of this for you is to keep him at a distance. You need to make sure he stays there.

“Aye. I do enjoy our games. Do you?”

You pause before answering, pretty sure that the truth would diffuse the situation, it wouldn’t be a challenge to prove you wrong. You just aren’t sure if you want to diffuse it. You’re very interested to see where he’s taking this. You glance down at his feet, crossed at the ankles, and decided to go with the truth.

“Of course,” you answer, looking back up at him.

His movements are slow and exact as he unbuckles the tan leather belt from around his waist, carefully laying it, pistol and all, on a small chair to his right. Next he unknots the sash, keeping his eyes on you the entire time. You swallow thickly and try to resist this slow seduction that he’s started. It’s unnatural that just the action of his removing a belt can do this to you. He lets the material pool on the floor at his feet. Your fingers twitch with the intense desire to reach forward and rid him of that long vest and you know that’s what he’s going for. This is just another way for him to best you and you decide that it won’t happen. During all of your games with him, he somehow always comes out on top, causing you to back down. His eyebrows quirk up and he grins. You stand up straight, determined not to let him win this time.

Stepping forward, you close the gap between you and Jack, and look up at him with wide eyes. You lay your hands on his chest, sliding your fingers underneath the unbuttoned vest. You drag your hands up to his shoulders, pushing the material farther open. A small smirk creeps up the side of his mouth and you return it. You push the vest off his shoulders and pull it down his arms, letting it fall to the floor behind him.

Trailing your fingers across the palms of his hands, you glance down and target the one cuff that always manages to stay buttoned. Diligently, you slide the small button through the hole and slide your hands back up his arms. His chest is rising and falling a little more rapidly than before and you don’t hide the satisfaction in your grin.

He still hasn’t moved, content with allowing you to do what you want. Logically, you know that the smartest move would be to back away and leave it at this. It’s just your body that’s refusing to do so. You want to feel his bare chest against your hands.

Dropping your hands to his waist, you tug the faded linen shirt from the waistband of his breeches, and pull it up his chest. He lifts his arms and helps you pull the shirt off quickly. Licking your lips, you flatten your hands over his bare chest, enjoying the softness of his skin and the hardness of his muscles.

The second your fingers brush across his flat nipples, he jerks forward and his head drops slightly. Moving closer, you lower your head and smile. You drop a light kiss on his chest and his arms are suddenly wrapped around you, pulling you in. He hugs you against his chest tightly, kissing the top of your head.

After a few seconds, he holds you at arm’s length and looks you up and down before muttering, “What are ye doin, dear?”

“Playing the game?” you ask lightly, meaning it as a light joke.

“This is no game.”

His callused hands smooth over your shoulders, barely touching your skin, and a shudder runs through your body. Every brush of his fingers shoot straight to your stomach, settling like a rock. His face is serious, more serious than you want to see it.

“If you don’t want to play…” you say, shaking your head slightly as you take a few steps to the side, starting to move past him. Before you make it very far, you’re pulled back by his hand wrapping around your wrist. He spins you around, pulling you back into the room and pushes you against the wall, using his hips to hold you in place. Your hands fly up on instinct and push against his chest, even though you don’t want to push him away. He grabs your wrists and holds your hands above your head.

Leaning in close, he purposefully brushes his stubbled cheek against yours. You bite back a moan and try your best to keep still. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing and you realize that you don’t care.

“Fine. You want a game?” he asks, his voice low in your ear and you think you hear a trace of anger. Nodding your head, you buck your hips against his. He moans against your ear and you wish it didn’t affect you so much.

His mouth attacks your neck, licking and nipping up to that little spot behind your ear. Your hands pull against his grip, this time having no intention of pushing him away. His grip tightens, holding your hands more firmly against the wall, obviously not ready to let you loose yet. Sighing, you tilt your head to the side, allowing him more access. His knee slides between your thighs, forcing you to widen your stance and practically sit astride his knee. He increases the pressure and you almost swoon, your eyes falling shut.

He slides his lips across your jaw, the coarse hair tickling your skin, as he moves up to hover over your mouth. You can taste his breath on your tongue and you want to taste him first-hand. You open your eyes to see Jack studying you intently. His gaze is fixed on your mouth and you smirk. His eyes lift and meet yours. You’re startled at how dark they are, the smudged kohl making them seem even more so. You breath in deeply before opening your mouth to speak but nothing comes out.

Jack grins that grin that you love and hate all at once. That grin that just screams that he knows something you don’t, that he knows all of your secrets and desires. He bridges the gap and kisses you harshly, his mouth showing no mercy. His lips slide over yours, taking your lower lip between his teeth and biting down just hard enough to prove a point. You moan in his mouth, which only seems to spurn him on. His tongue pushes past your lips, tracing the edges of your teeth before tickling the roof of your mouth.

Your hips thrust out, pressing into his, and you gasp at the feeling of his obvious arousal. He grinds his hips against yours in response, tearing his mouth away from yours. His hands release your wrists as he slides his fingers down your arms and to your waist. He takes a step back, and forces you to turn around and face the wall. Your hands fly up to brace yourself against the wall and you turn your head to try and look at him. He lays a hand on your shoulder, holding you still, and slides his other hand up your spine to cup the back of your neck. He massages your neck softly for a few seconds, before smoothing his hand back down your spine. You sigh, resting your cheek against the cool wall.

He begins tugging at the strings holding your bodice together, quickly untying them. He pulls at them, loosening it until he’s able to pull it completely off your body. The cool air passes through the thin chemise you’re left with and a shiver runs through your body.

Without saying a word, Jack makes quick work of your skirts, sliding them down your hips and letting them pool on the floor around your ankles. A small voice is telling you that this game is getting out of hand, but you ignore it. You want this and having it under the guise of a game is safer than having to really look at why.

You push back against his body, knocking him slightly off balance so you can turn around to face him. You reach forward and hook a finger inside his breeches, tugging him closer once your leaning against the wall again. He smiles in approval and dives for your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours. You don’t think you’ll ever be able to kiss another man without wanting him to taste like Jack, like the sea. Like freedom.

Your body seems to be on autopilot when you hardly notice your fingers begin to work on unbuttoning his breeches. After you get a few unbuttoned, you tire of working with the rest and drag your hand down the front of his arousal, casually massaging through the material. His hips thrust forward into your hand and a ragged moan tears through his throat. His head falls to your shoulder and he bites down, hard.

Suddenly, Jack is pulling your hands away, holding them against the wall at your sides. You turn your head, searching for his eyes, and when he lifts his head to meet your gaze you swallow thickly. His mouth is open slightly, breath coming out in ragged pants, and you’ve never seen him look so frustrated. You can’t stop the giggle from bubbling up and he frowns in response.

“Sorry,” you apologize, although you know you don’t sound convincing enough.

“You find this funny?” he asks, his head motioning downwards toward his obvious arousal. You open your mouth to answer, but the words die in your throat when he quickly slides a hand down between your thighs, pressing his palm up against you. Your eyes slide shut of their own accord and you barely register when he speaks again.

“How ‘bout now, sweetness?” he asks, his voice heavy with cocky smugness. You open your eyes slightly, any thought of laughing far from your mind. His fingers slide against you and you lock your knees in an effort to keep them from giving out. Your entire body feels as if it’s on fire. You grip his upper arms, digging your fingers into his skin.

It’s his turn to laugh, the sound is deep and smooth. Your hands fly to the buttons of his breeches again, quickly undoing the last of them, before sliding a hand beneath the material. You slide your fingers along his rigid flesh, amazed at how smooth and hard he is all at the same time. He gasps, burying his face in the nape of your neck as his hips thrust forward against your hand.

His long hair brushes against your cheek as he lifts his head slowly, meeting your gaze. Without saying a word, Jack pushes the hem of your chemise up, bunching it around your waist. Smiling, you begin pulling his breeches down over his hips. You barely manage to push them past his butt before he slides his hands to the backs of your thighs, lifting you up, your back sliding higher up the wall and your legs automatically wrapping around his waist.

You realize that if you want this to stop, now is the time. You don’t say a word and only smile at him when he looks at you with questioning eyes. You just can’t bring yourself to do anything. The corner of his mouth lifts in a small smirk. That insufferable smirk that just drives you crazy. You cup his cheek in the palm of your hand and bring him in for a slow kiss. You softly suck on his lower lip, nipping lightly, as you slide your finger tips across his jaw.

He slides his hands up your thighs and moves them to your butt and holds you steady. His head ducks down immediately to capture a material covered nipple in his mouth, swirling his tongue across the cotton. Your hands move to the back of his head, gripping his unruly hair in your fingers and you throw your head back, barely noticing when your skull hits the wall with a dull thump.

You lose track of time, not being able to concentrate on anything but the pleasure that’s coursing through your body. Suddenly, you’re being dropped on your dresser, your hands falling down to the wood beneath you to keep yourself steady. You look up at Jack and catch his grin before he takes a step back, disengaging himself from between your legs.

Your eyebrows arch, silently asking him what he’s doing and why he’s doing it. You don’t even want to think about what you look like, disheveled and barely dressed while spread wanton on your cherry wood dresser.

You frown when Jack pulls his breeches back up over his hips and begins buttoning them, “Jack?”

He barely registers your question, gracing you with a grunted response. You bite your lip, your mind is screaming at you to let him leave, knowing that he’ll either regret it later or give in. It’s your body that is refusing to take any actions relating to such a thing. You don’t know what to do and you know that if you don’t stop him, he’ll most likely leave. Glancing down, you know that his body has some definite problems with his leaving, but you also know that Jack Sparrow is the most disciplined person you know.

Pursing your lips, you get an idea. With a sly grin, you stretch out your leg to poke his thigh with your toes, catching his attention. You take a deep breath when his eyes meet yours and you remind yourself to focus. Moving slowly, you pull the thin chemise up your body, making sure that his eyes are glued to your hands. You raise your arms, taking the material with you, and pull it from your body. Jack’s eyes widen, his eyes somehow getting even darker with lust than they were before, and you grin innocently.

With a flick of your wrist, you toss the chemise at him and smile when it lands on his shoulder. He pulls it from his bare shoulder and holds it in front of him, his head lowered.

“Game?” you ask sweetly, knowing that you got him. He answers you by dropping the chemise and unbuttoning his breeches, closing the distance. He wastes no time, clearly tired of waiting any longer. He wraps his large hands around your waist, pulling you to the edge of the dresser, your legs instantly wrapping around his waist.

You both groan in approval when you pull him in closer, feeling him so deliciously hard against you. Your hands push his breaches down over his hips, ridding him of the last barrier that was holding him back from you. Your hands slide across his skin for just a moment before he tears them away with a moan.

“Enough playing,” his heavy voice orders. His hands slide up your stomach, smoothing over your breasts, before moving down to your hips. His fingers dig into your skin, pulling you harshly against him, and your head falls back, eyes closing, once you feel him thrust inside of you. He doesn’t give either of you any time to adapt to the new feelings, he doesn’t even pause as he slowly pulls his hips back only to thrust forward again. A moan tears from your throat and your hands grip at his waist.

You can barely think, can barely even register his softly muttered words in your ear, all you can hear is the pounding of your heartbeat, his harsh breathing, and the sound of his hips meeting yours. They’re the most intoxicating sounds you’ve ever heard. His hands are everywhere, sliding over your breasts, your hips, squeezing your thighs, cradling your head, tickling across your belly. Everything just bleeds into one amazing feeling of pleasure, you can no longer distinguish between one or the other.

You open your eyes and lift your head, instantly being caught up in Jack’s eyes. His eyes are so soft, warm, trying to show you everything but nothing. You smile, knowing it’s shaky, but do it anyways. He leans forward, taking a kiss, and slowly pushes your body back with his. You hold onto him, allowing him to push you back until your shoulders hit the wall. He stands back up and thrusts hard. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream at the new angle and you barely catch the satisfied gleam in his eyes.

He uses one hand to hold your hips steady and slides the other up your chest, between your breasts, and to your neck. He rubs a finger across your lips but quickly moves it away before you get a chance to respond. His hand slides back down, stopping to roll a nipple between his fingers, moaning when you arch your back, pushing yourself closer.

Jack spends a few moments paying careful attention to your breasts, kissing and sucking all the places that stop your breath. His mouth finally moves up to capture yours in a deep kiss, his tongue mimicking his thrusts. You moan and he returns it in kind. The fingers on your hip dig in so hard that you know there will be a bruise. The pain is a pleasure that you can’t explain, even to yourself.

His other hand slides down to where you and he are joined, his fingers slide across your heated flesh, pressing hard. You arch your back, your breasts meeting his chest, and you moan in his mouth at the feeling of his skin rubbing against your sensitive nipples. His skin is slick beneath your fingers as you dig your nails into the knotted muscles of his back. He doubles his efforts, muttering curses into your mouth.

Your eyes fall shut and you don’t know how much more you can take. His fingers are eliciting such sinful responses from your body, clearly knowing exactly what he’s doing and how to torture you. How to hold you just above the edge, but not let you fall.

Just as you think your body can’t take anymore, he slows his thrusts down. You make a noise of disapproval in the back of your throat, causing Jack to lift his head and throw you an arrogant smirk. You bite your lip, tightening your legs around him, urging him to go faster.

Jack relents and picks up the pace, driving into your body with a determination you’ve never felt, let alone witnessed. His jaw is tight and his dark eyes are focused on yours. You lick your dry lips, trying to wet them, but it seems like it’s impossible. Your throat is so dry that you suddenly get the thought that you will need so much water after this.

Without warning, Jack pinches your nub with two fingers and at the same time he uses his other hand to lift your hips up slightly, changing the angle. Your body stiffens immediately, not being able to stay afloat any longer. You try to keep eye contact, but your head falls back to hit the wall with a thud and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. Your thighs tighten around his waist and your fingers are digging into his shoulders, trying to hold on to sanity.

Your body’s immediate response pushes Jack over with you, his hips pulling away so far that he almost slides out completely. But right before that happens, he thrusts back in. He does this a few times before he can’t any longer. He growls, his head falling against your shoulder, his hips moving with the only intention of release. You feel his entire body shake as you tighten your limbs around him. You feel him inside you, warmth spreading, and he almost collapses, throwing all of his weight on you with one final thrust.

His breathing is heavy, overpowering yours, and you both stay unmoving for several moments. Jack is the first to move. He slowly straightens, bracing himself on your hips. You don’t release him, but he doesn’t seem to mind, having no intention of separating himself from you. He takes a deep breath and holds you to his body, picking you up and carrying you to the bed.

Jack drops you on the mattress with a thump and you smile when he quickly follows after, settling down on top of you. You wrap your legs and arms around him again, loving the weight of his body. He sighs against your neck and mutters something you can’t hear.

“What?” you whisper in his ear. You catch the tail end of his second muttering, “…was beautiful.”

You swallow thickly, your throat reminding you of your intense desire for water. You just don’t have the heart to make Jack move. You swallow again and Jack lifts his head, “Thirsty my lovely?”

“Just a bit,” you say with a small smile, enjoying this tender side he’s showing you.

“Hmmm…” he muses before dropping his head for a slow kiss. His tongue slides across your lips, wetting them, before dipping into your mouth. He takes his time with the kiss, tickling the roof of your mouth, before pulling away. Licking his lips, he smugly asks, “Better?”

You don’t answer, not wanting to tell him that he actually did make it a little better. Instead you mutter, “That was the best game I have ever played.”

You expect Jack to reply with something witty, but instead he says nothing. A small frown tilts his mouth down and for a brief second a wave of emotion passes over his face. It all moves too fast for you to distinguish between, but you know it wasn’t positive. He soon wipes his face clean of any traces of what you just saw, making you wonder if you imagined it.

He smiles and lowers his head to your shoulder, resting light kisses along your skin. You lay in silence, your mind racing with what just happened. When he tries to roll off, your legs tighten and you grunt in disapproval. He gives up and settles down again. You kiss every patch of skin you can reach. Every scar that happens to be closest. You let your eyes fall shut, exhaustion refusing to be ignored.

You think you may have fallen asleep, because the next thing you know, your body is cold and Jack’s weight is no longer pressed down on you. Your eyes open and you see an empty bed. You lift your head but still see no one. Rolling over, you sigh in relief when you see Jack. A frown instantly mars your face when you see that he’s fully clothed. He’s sitting in one of your simple chairs, leaning forward, his elbows on his knees and his hands clasped together. He smiles, but the gesture doesn’t reach his eyes.

You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. He stands up and walks over to the side of your bed. Picking a blanket up from the floor, he shakes in out and lays it over your naked body. Leaning forward, he places a chaste kiss on your forehead. You tilt your head back to look up at him when he lifts his head. You know your face is screaming at him with confusion, but you don’t say anything. He lowers his head again, this time kissing your cheek and than moving to your mouth finally to leave you with one last kiss.

He pushes your dark hair off your face, tucking the strands behind your ear, and stands. You watch him turn around and walk to the door. You’re completely at a loss as to what’s wrong and why he’s leaving. Sitting up quickly, not caring when the blanket pools around your waist and leaves your chest bare.

“Jack?” you hate how tiny your voice sounds.

He stops and turns around, his eyes taking extra care not to look down at your exposed breasts. His voice is low and you barely hear him ask, “When does it stop bein’ a game, love?”

He doesn’t say anything more and neither do you. Instead, you just watch him leave. A little voice in your head screams that you messed up. That you were the one to take it too far. That somewhere along the line, you ruined everything. You don’t know if he’ll ever be back, you can’t fathom not having him in your life, but you know that right now, he needs to leave. No one can force Jack Sparrow into staying.

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AN: Please review. Thanks for reading.