Unforgivable

“It’s not hiding,” Jack told himself determinedly. “Just…staying out of the way, as it were.” He drew up his knees and rested his chin on them for a moment, scowling.

“S’perfectly normal behaviour, mate. NOT hiding, just….taking an inventory!” He peered gloomily into the dingy half-light of the hull, feeling the water slosh lazily around his feet, soaking his backside and the hem of his coat. Straightening up again he cocked his thumb towards each of the rum barrels that he was currently wedged between, a wry grin playing across his face.

“One…two!” he muttered. “Good. Inventory done!” Raising the ever-present rum bottle in a brief salute, he took a long, satisfying swig then threw his head back, closed his eyes and groaned.


Standing at the helm, Gibbs spotted Miss Elizabeth hurrying purposefully towards him and tried desperately to pretend that he hadn’t. A pointless exercise, he knew; he had learnt from their earliest acquaintance that there was no stopping that young lady if her mind was set on something. Trouble was, he feared that what her heart was set on now would mean trouble for them all....

She said his name and he turned with a smile, a nod and a somewhat resigned, “Miss Elizabeth.”

She did not speak for a moment, staring at him in a speculative manner that made him decidedly nervous. He looked away, eyes busily scanning the horizon, fingers flexing tightly on the spokes of the wheel.

“Where is he Mr Gibbs?”

Her voice was soft, pleading. Gibbs turned to face her, his heart softening at her bewildered expression. About to respond, he gulped as she continued, her voice deepening to angry frustration,

“And why is he doing this?? WHY won’t he just face me and get this over with?”

Gibbs opened his mouth to speak. Closed it again. Eventually he managed, “I….er…Miss Elizabeth…”

He shrugged helplessly and she rolled her eyes impatiently.

“I’ll find him Mr Gibbs. There are only so many places to hide on a ship. I’ll find him and I’ll make him listen to me!”

She threw back her shoulders and lifted her chin, eyes blazing, then swung away from him and started to march away. As she reached the top of the stairs Gibbs called out, “Miss? He did say something about an inventory….”

Elizabeth stopped briefly, turned and nodded her thanks.

As he watched her hurry away Gibbs sighed, and sent a silent apology to his Captain. Then again, he mused, perhaps this confrontation was long overdue….


Jack was fed up. His arse was wet, his legs cramping, and – worst of all – the rum was nearly gone. Raising the bottle to his lips he swallowed the remaining inch of liquid and muttered; “Now s’gone. When she’s around the rum’s always bloody gone!”

Cursing, he crawled stiffly from his hiding place and bent to the nearest barrel to refill the bottle. Leaning his head against it as he worked, he cursed more vigorously as he realised that he’d done it again.

No matter how much he tried to banish that bloody girl – woman – from his mind she just wouldn’t go away. He shut off the tap and clutched the now full bottle protectively to his chest but remained slumped against the barrel. Closed his eyes and she was there again – face inches from his own, lips parting as she brushed them tantalisingly across his upper lip before pulling away.

The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps bought him sharply out of his reverie.

His eyes snapped open and he looked down to see the hand which wasn’t clutching the bottle had somehow crept down to his crotch and was rubbing up and down his length.
He snatched the traitorous hand away and was staring down at the already impressive bulge in his trousers when he realised that the cause of it was standing right in front of him.


“Jack! What on earth are you doing?”


He looked up, trying to regain some sense of dignity from his position on the floor, and wondered how she would react if he answered her honestly. Smirking at that thought, he found he was able to meet her gaze with at least a semblance of his usual nonchalance.


“Captain stuff, luv.” He lifted the bottle and waved it towards her before taking a much-needed drink.


Elizabeth scowled and stepped closer.


“Captain stuff?” she shook her head in disbelief. “Since when do the Captain’s duties include skulking in the hold getting drunk?”


Jack waggled a finger at her and nodded self-importantly.


“M’Captain luv. My ship. My rules. Anyway – m’not skulking. I am taking an inventory.”


She stared at him, shaking her head.


“You are being ridiculous Jack. Admit it. You were hiding from me!”


“Was not!”


“You are sitting here in this wet, smelly hold because you are desperate to avoid me!”


Jack glowered at her but did not deny her accusation.


“We have to talk about this Jack. You can’t avoid me forever!”


“Bloody can!” he muttered, then staggered to his feet as she began to close the gap between them. He held up his hand, gesturing for her to stop, to stay away from him.
He met her eyes and there was no trace of friendliness in his gaze.


“There’s nothing to discuss, Miss Swann. Pirate, remember? You did what was necessary. I told you already – I admire that trait. Doesn’t mean I have to like being on the receiving end of it.”


She looked away and he was disconcerted to see tears in her eyes. Was horrified when she stumbled towards him, throwing herself at him so suddenly that he had to put his arms out to catch her and stop her from knocking them both off their feet. She buried her face against his shoulder and he stared down at the top of her head, bemused by this unexpected turn of events.

For a long moment neither spoke.

Jack breathed deeply, trying to calm himself, trying to explain to his shocked brain that this was the REAL Elizabeth he held in his arms, not the phantom Elizabeth who had been the subject of his nightly fantasies for weeks now. His arms tightened around her and he felt her clutch at him in return, felt the trembling of her body, and was unbearably touched.


“I’m so sorry Jack!” she mumbled, voice muffled against his coat, shaking with grief. “I am so, so, sorry!”


He moved his hands up to her shoulders, pushing her gently but firmly back so that she was forced to lift her head and meet his gaze. One hand came to her face, dirty tanned fingers tenderly wiping the tears from her cheeks as he stared into her eyes.


“Not sorry, Lizzie, remember? Pirate!” He grinned at her then and she grinned back through her tears.


“I know. But I AM sorry, Jack.”


Her hands were rubbing gently across his lower back now and he forced himself to concentrate on her words, on her lips....those soft, plump, tempting lips....

Not good!!

He pushed her away a little, not wanting her to feel how his body was reacting to her touch.


But she was moving closer again, pressing against him where he needed it most and an involuntary groan escaped him. Her eyes widened slightly at the sound and she pushed against his hips again, testing his response.


“Lizzie!!” he choked, “You really shouldn’t……mmph!”

His protest was cut short as her mouth descended on his, and he was lost.

She ran her tongue across his lips and he parted them willingly, allowing her to explore his mouth and tongue with her own, letting her kiss him. Much too soon for his liking she pulled away, eyes drowsy with need.


“Jack…..I…..”


“Don’t bloody dare say you’re sorry for that!” he growled, fingers curling into her hair as he yanked her forward again, taking control of her mouth with his own, his free hand sliding down to the small of her back and crushing her hips harder against him, needing her to feel the strength of his desire.

He felt her gasp against his mouth, wondered briefly if she’d pull away – but no.

Instead her hands slipped down from his waist to cup his rear, trying to pull him closer still, making him groan again.

He only realised that they had been staggering backwards when his back collided with something hard that rocked slightly with the impact. He had half-registered the fact that she had him pinned against one of the rum barrels when one of her hands reached down and touched the hard bulge between his legs, causing all coherent thought to flee. He broke their kiss and stared at her, questioningly. She met his gaze boldly and licked her lips.


“Yes, Jack!” she whispered.


Her words sent a jolt of fire from his head to his groin and he felt himself jerk under her exploring hand. Fighting for breath, fighting for control of his own body, he managed at last to gasp,

“Not here, Lizzie! Not here in this….”


She bent her head, began to lay soft kisses along his neck, and he whimpered.


“...in....this....dirty...smelly...aaahh....Lizzie!”

She was kissing behind his ear now, one hand rubbing his back, the other rubbing him somewhere entirely more satisfying. His own hands seemed to have a life of their own; he did not recall tugging her shirt from her breeches but he obviously had for his fingers were sliding beneath the material and across her skin, deliciously warm and silky soft beneath his fingers.

Urgently he slid a hand along her thigh, lifting her leg to rest along his hip and rocking against her, moaning deep in his throat at the delicious sensations that coursed through his body.

She sought his mouth again, her kiss growing more frantic as her hand squeezed and rubbed more urgently. He felt his control beginning to slip, released her leg and pushed her hand away, shocked that she was having this effect him so soon, when she hadn’t even touched him yet…not properly.


“She pulled her mouth away from his, bewildered, and he answered her silent plea with a wry grin. Brushing his lips across her ear, he murmured,


“Cos I’m gonna come in me breeches in a minute, luv!”


Elizabeth drew back to look at him again, her expression confused.


“You’re going to...what?”


He couldn’t repress a chuckle at that, but then his expression grew serious.


“Do you have any idea what is going to happen here, Lizzie? Where this is going to end if we carry on?”


She met his gaze steadily.


“I know…a little,” she confessed. “I know that I want this….I want you.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I know that I want you, Jack.”


“Oh god…Lizzie!” he groaned, and he reached for her then, his fingers working frantically on the ties of her breeches, his eyes never leaving her face as he loosened them enough to slip his hand inside and rub against her curls, watching her eyes close and her lips part in a wordless cry. He ghosted his fingers across her sex, feeling her buck helplessly against him. She needed more of him; her own hands came up to pull the breeches down over her hips, opening herself to him.

“Please, Jack!” she begged, and he paused briefly to help her yank the breeches down as far as her boots would allow before returning to his task, fingers rubbing and circling and teasing, his other arm holding her upright as she sagged bonelessly against him, gasping and groaning at the terrifyingly wonderful tremors that coursed through her body.

She groped blindly with one hand for his belts, tugging at them in frustration, and he took the hint. Draping her arm around his neck so that she could support herself, he reached down and fumbled the belts loose, working on the buttons of his breeches with one hand as he continued to stroke her with the other.

He had barely sprung the last button when her hand was there, touching him, stroking him with shaking fingers, exploring his length and rubbing gently across the tip which was slicked with moisture. Jack swore softly under his breath, his eyes rolled back and he shuddered. His own fingers stilled for a moment and he looked at her, pleadingly.


“Soft, Lizzie…I’m too close….let me show you first….I need to show you what I feel, first..”


Gently he pushed her hand away, turned her so that her back was against him, one leg between hers for support, bracing himself against the rum barrel, his painfully hard erection pressing into her back. He slid his hands around her hips, trying to gently push her thighs apart – and stopped.

“Won’t work, luv,” he whispered and she twisted her head to look at him quizzically. He nodded down at her legs and she followed his gaze.

“Oh.” He held onto her waist as she bent down to tug off her boots and kick the offending breeches away. Straightening up, she leant back against his chest and sighed.

“Show me then Jack,” she begged, and he needed no further invitation. He felt her sag against him as he set to work, stroking and teasing her folds, feeling her slick and warm against his fingers. His other hand crept upwards, pulling open the fastenings of her shirt, tugging at the bindings that bound her breasts until they loosened enough for him to push them down, allowing him access. He brushed a palm across her nipples and she gasped, stiffening against him.

He began to stroke her harder, faster, needing to tip her over the edge before he lost control of himself, needing to be inside her soon. She was shaking now, head thrashing helplessly from side to side, her hips bucking frantically.

Suddenly she stiffened, gave a low keening cry, and he felt her moisture flood against his fingers. He gasped in sympathy and shifted slightly to slip his finger inside, pressing down in just the right spot, and was rewarded with a shuddering cry as her body clenched around him.

Even as she stilled he was flipping her round to face him, unable to wait any longer.

He pushed her back against the barrel, angling her hips towards him and bending his knees slightly, taking himself in hand, poised at her entrance. He dropped his mouth to hers, kissing her long and deep, lifted her leg to hook around his waist and entered her with one sharp thrust.

She gasped and stiffened and he held himself still, his breath coming in short, harsh gasps, his body quivering with need. After a moment that seemed to last forever he felt her push against him, drawing him deeper inside. He growled deep in his throat and began to move, trying to go gently, trying to contain his desire. But he wanted – needed - her too badly.

Despite himself his movements became increasingly urgent, her soft cries spurring him on, feeling her clench around him, feeling the world start to spin away. His fingers dug in to the soft flesh of her hips as he jerked against her, faster and more furious, and a part of his brain registered that it was time, he needed to pull out NOW, before it was too late.

But her hands and her body were holding him there, fighting to keep him, and it felt too bloody good to stop.

Suddenly every muscle in his body stiffened as he convulsed and exploded inside her, filling her and spilling out to trickle hot and wet down her thighs. He heard himself cry out as his body jerked helplessly and knew that it had never been like this before; he felt as though he had spilled his very soul inside her.


Finally spent, he slumped forward, holding her tight against him and still inside her. There was a thump as her back hit the barrel and it wobbled precariously, but he was too dazed to register the fact, too preoccupied with her mouth, bending his head to bestow a tender, grateful kiss.


He lowered her gently to the floor, unmindful of the water sloshing round them until she gave a little cry as she felt it splash against her bare skin. He raised his head to look at her and she pushed him away, laughing,


“Jack!! For goodness sake I’m getting drenched!”


He opened his mouth to speak just as the ship lurched. He sensed danger and pulled her towards him, rolling them both out of harm’s way as the barrel finally gave way to gravity and tipped off it’s base, crashing to the floor beside them and spewing it’s contents across the hold.

They lay in helpless disbelief as a wave of rum gushed over them both, splashing against their faces, soaking them. Elizabeth struggled to sit up, pushing her rum-soaked hair out of her eyes and gasping for breath. She turned her head to look at Jack and stopped.

His face was frozen with disbelief. His horrified gaze went from her to the spilt rum, to the broken barrel then back to her, widening his eyes in mute appeal.

He looked so woebegone that Elizabeth tried desperately to repress her smile and look sympathetic. But when he pushed out his lower lip in a pout she was lost. She bought her hand to her mouth, trying to hide her laughter, shoulders shaking with mirth.

“S’not bloody funny!” he growled but that only made it worse; her eyes filled with tears and she buried her face in her hands, giggling uncontrollably.

She felt him move away from her, then something landed in her lap.

Opening her eyes she saw he had thrown her breeches at her and was standing over her, hands on hips, scowling.

“Get dressed.” He ordered, and his tone was so grave that her giggles stopped abruptly.

She struggled to her feet, wincing with distaste as she pulled on sodden breeches and wriggled her feet into damply squishy boots. He watched in silence and when she was done she raised her eyes to his, her expression defiant.


“For goodness sake, Jack! It’s not as if it were the last barrel! Where’s your sense of humour?”


His scowl deepened, telling her that he was assuredly not amused.


“Jack!” she shook her head at him, exasperated. “It’s only rum!”


He closed the distance between them before she could catch her breath, gripping her shoulders and staring at her furiously.


“Never!” he ground out, giving her a little shake, “Never say that again!”

She opened her mouth to retort, then closed it again, too annoyed to think of a suitable response. She tried to pull away but he held her fast, pulling her closer, his arms sliding around her back and jerking her closer until the tip of his nose brushed against hers.

“Now then,” he breathed, his voice low and deadly, “wasting rum on my ship, and THEN laughing about it..”


He paused for effect, moving his head back a little to stare into her eyes.


“….That,” he continued, “Is the most terrible offence, far, far worse than sending a man to his death….savvy?”


He smirked at her then and she wound her arms around his neck, shaking her head in disbelief.


“I’m so sorry, Captain Sparrow,” she murmured, bending her head to brush his lips with her own but he pulled away, still smirking.


“How sorry?”


“Very, very sorry!” she assured him, and he pulled her close, lowering his head to suck briefly at her neck.


“You will be required to show the Captain just how sorry you are…..in his cabin…on the deck…..at the helm….in the galley…”


He sought her mouth again and she sank into his kiss, feeling the heat of it down to her toes.


“Will the Captain….ever….forgive me….?” she breathed as he released her.


“Never!” he whispered, gazing deep into her eyes, seeking and finding the answer he needed.


“Some things…. are just….unforgivable….”