Fic: Mooring (1/1)
Title: Mooring
Rating: R
Pairing: Will/Elizabeth
Word Count: 421
Summary: He’s more of a man, now; but she’d have loved him as less. For sopranozone, who requested “ Will/Elizabeth - quiet moments after the homecoming” at my Winter Gift-Fic Extravaganza. Spoilers Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (2003).
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: I’ve never written in this fandom, so I hope this isn’t made of total fail.
Mooring
He doesn’t have much -- less, perhaps, to offer than he did before this all began -- but he’s a better man, now; he’s a better man, and she’d have loved him before -- she’d have loved him before, as less.
They lie in front of the fire; she flinches as the wood pops beneath the flames and he tightens his hold around her bare shoulders, draws her in close and feels her, lithe and small, thin and fragile under his hands, smooth against his calluses, and she gleams in the firelight when he rakes fingers through her hair, bends down to kiss, suck at her jaw, her neck, between her collarbones and down, licking at her cleavage and tonguing her nipples, kissing along the modest circumference of her pert breasts before he pulls back up and just hugs her near, keeps the heat between them against the chill of night.
She smiles, eyes closing when he exhales against her, disturbs the strands of her hair until it falls, haphazard over her face, catching in her lashes when the lids slip open again and she watches him, the kind of warmth and trust he never thought to find, still doesn’t really believe or deserve, but he’ll take it; by God, but he’ll take it.
He gathers her hands close in his own, small within his grasp but strong, and he kisses her knuckles and lilts against the bruises, the scratches and scrapes, the long blood line drawn raw against her skin, a curse she couldn’t break, never should have had to bear. He wants to keep her safe, wants to keep her from harm, always, but he understands her: they’ll save each other, save themselves, each in turn, with equal need.
A give and a take.
He watches her chest rise and fall beneath the blankets, mesmerized by her presence, her existence, and he’s not ashamed of it; he marvels. The wind rustles through, sends shivers through them both and drives them just that bit closer, into that space just before, just above where they’d smother one another, push too far; he can feel her heartbeat against his chest, and it’s everything he dreamed of and never through to truly want.
The breeze sends metal, blades clanging light against each other where they hang out front, and Will kisses her temple and waits for peace to settle, and he doesn’t think on tomorrow so much as he sinks into now.
It doesn’t take long before he’s sound asleep.
Rating: R
Pairing: Will/Elizabeth
Word Count: 421
Summary: He’s more of a man, now; but she’d have loved him as less. For sopranozone, who requested “ Will/Elizabeth - quiet moments after the homecoming” at my Winter Gift-Fic Extravaganza. Spoilers Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (2003).
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.
Author’s Notes: I’ve never written in this fandom, so I hope this isn’t made of total fail.
Mooring
He doesn’t have much -- less, perhaps, to offer than he did before this all began -- but he’s a better man, now; he’s a better man, and she’d have loved him before -- she’d have loved him before, as less.
They lie in front of the fire; she flinches as the wood pops beneath the flames and he tightens his hold around her bare shoulders, draws her in close and feels her, lithe and small, thin and fragile under his hands, smooth against his calluses, and she gleams in the firelight when he rakes fingers through her hair, bends down to kiss, suck at her jaw, her neck, between her collarbones and down, licking at her cleavage and tonguing her nipples, kissing along the modest circumference of her pert breasts before he pulls back up and just hugs her near, keeps the heat between them against the chill of night.
She smiles, eyes closing when he exhales against her, disturbs the strands of her hair until it falls, haphazard over her face, catching in her lashes when the lids slip open again and she watches him, the kind of warmth and trust he never thought to find, still doesn’t really believe or deserve, but he’ll take it; by God, but he’ll take it.
He gathers her hands close in his own, small within his grasp but strong, and he kisses her knuckles and lilts against the bruises, the scratches and scrapes, the long blood line drawn raw against her skin, a curse she couldn’t break, never should have had to bear. He wants to keep her safe, wants to keep her from harm, always, but he understands her: they’ll save each other, save themselves, each in turn, with equal need.
A give and a take.
He watches her chest rise and fall beneath the blankets, mesmerized by her presence, her existence, and he’s not ashamed of it; he marvels. The wind rustles through, sends shivers through them both and drives them just that bit closer, into that space just before, just above where they’d smother one another, push too far; he can feel her heartbeat against his chest, and it’s everything he dreamed of and never through to truly want.
The breeze sends metal, blades clanging light against each other where they hang out front, and Will kisses her temple and waits for peace to settle, and he doesn’t think on tomorrow so much as he sinks into now.
It doesn’t take long before he’s sound asleep.