Fic: Bloodletting, NC/17, J/E
Title: Bloodletting ( 50 smutlets table 2 #8 - blood)
Author: Sage_Laurel
Pairing: Jack Sparrow/Elizabeth Swann, PotC
Rating: NC/17, for sure. Not for the faint.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except the smut in my brain.
A/N: Thanks to PirateMistress for the fabulous beta, and for JacksMermaid and PirateMistress for being so darn inspiring.
BLOODLETTING
There was something on the wind tonight, Elizabeth thought. The night was dark, save for the few brave stars who shone from behind high clouds. The moon herself was thin, meek, barely making herself known in the heavens, as if she knew better. Elizabeth stared out at the vast expanse of the water, as if some answers might be found among the waves.
She'd gone and done it.
She'd gone into Jack Sparrow's cabin and given herself to him, surrendered her maidenhead in favor of tasting his mouth, his skin, his body with hers. She could no longer bear the way her body screamed to be touched, the way her mind was forever clouded with memories of the kiss they'd shared the day he'd died.
He'd taken her innocence with skill and fervor and a raw passion that shocked and inflamed her. He'd wrenched such pleasure from her body that she thought she would crumble to pieces. She'd wept and held his head to her breast and felt his heart pound when he found his pinnacle inside her body. He'd brushed dark fingers against the blood on her thighs and licked them clean, murmuring unintelligible things in a language she didn't know he could speak. She told him it could never happen again. She'd crept back to her berth in darkness and slept the fevered sleep of the unredeemable, dreaming of him, waking damp and moaning.
She'd dreamt of him every night since.
She'd gone back to his cabin once since that night 15 days ago. He'd taken her again, wordlessly. Again, she told him it would not happen again. She prayed she wasn't lying.
Will...her conscience murmured, You've betrayed Will.
Yes, she thought, but he will barely look at me since we rescued Jack. He saw the kiss, I know he did. He speaks only of our return to Port Royal and how we can be decent citizens again. He speaks of our marriage like a tonic that will ease this wanderlust inside me, like putting up house and getting me bred will solve everything. I know better.
But he loves me. His love is pure and unsullied, and he will be a good husband. Maybe everything will be different once... once we are away from Jack Sparrow. I am betrothed to Will, stamped and sealed. I've promised my hand to him and I intend to keep my promise.
This madness with Jack will end here.
Full of resolve, Elizabeth straightened her shoulders and forced her legs to propel her to the door of Jack's cabin. A light burned inside, so she knocked.
Jack must have been closer to the door than she thought, because as soon as her knuckles had made contact the door swung open. Jack stood and regarded her with kohl-smudged eyes.
"Need something, Elizabeth?"
"Yes, a moment to converse with you, Captain," she replied formally, in case any errant crew members should be listening.
He stepped aside and motioned her in with a flourish of his hand. She entered and stood over by the chart table, idly handling the charting implements. Jack sat in his chair grandly and took up his rum bottle, with was nigh empty. Another bottle rolled across the floor with the movement of the ship.
"So," Jack said as he sipped, "Did you come to talk with words, or would you prefer to use that delightful little body of yours? Use the universal language, as it were?"
His eyes shone in the lamplight, and she could see that they were terribly red, and that his shirt was untucked and disheveled. Jack is drunk, she realized, far drunker than usual. Maybe this is not such a good idea. "Maybe I should come back, Jack, when you've had a bit less to drink."
"You didn't answer my question. If its the former you've come to do, then out with it. If its the latter, than I'd say you could speak much more eloquently with your dress off." His eyes raked down the front of her dress. She wrapped her arms across her bodice to try and conceal the swell of her breasts in the threadbare gown.
"I'll ask you to refrain from such talk, Captain. I am not one of your tavern trollops." She crossed her arms indignantly, steadying herself for the task ahead.
"Oh yes, sorry, my mistake," Jack propped his boots up onto the table, knocking his compass off. " A tavern girl would have her clothes off by now."
Bastard..
"Sod it, Jack, I'm ending this insanity now. No more of this. I don't care whats passed between us up until now. I don't know what got into me. I was mad to ever come in here in the first place. I am an engaged woman, with a fiancee aboard, and I refuse to become your whore."
"I know what's gotten into you," Jack smiled wryly and glanced down at his lap, "and I know how much you liked it. I've heard the noises you've made, the things you've said. You can't deny those. You're going to want more." With a satisfied smirk, Jack rose from his chair and extended the rum bottle out to her. She pushed it away in disgust. "That's alright, pet. You'll be back in my bed before long, I know it."
"I can't live like this, Jack. I still love Will. We're still betrothed." Elizabeth raised her chin in defiance.
"You say you love him so much? Then go to him. Go marry him and be his proper little wifey during the day, and at night you can steal away to my cabin and be ravished like a proper strumpet. Then everyone's happy." Jack took a good swig from the rum bottle and leaned back against the table, arms crossed. Pirate, she thought, horrid drunken pirate, how dare he say such things.
"Well, maybe that's an acceptable state of affairs for you", Elizabeth said, tossing her hair back haughtily, "But I'm not you. I'm different."
Jack laughed into his rum. "See, that's your problem, Liz'beth. You are still entertaining the notion that you're better than me, better than any of my crew, better even than your blacksmith boy. Let us just take stock a moment, shall we? You've aided in the escape of a condemned man, stolen letters of Marque, escaped from crown custody onto a pirate ship, chained a man to a mast and left him to die, ridden halfway around the world on a pirate ship full of criminals and no chaperones in sight.." Jack ticked off her misdeeds on ringed fingers. "Shall I go on? A scallywag, you are."
"I'm the governor's daughter. I am still a lady, no matter what I've done of late." She drew up next to him, eyes shooting daggers, and took the rum bottle from him, depositing it on the table.
"A lady? Hardly." Jack laughed scornfully, gold teeth glinting in the candle glow. "After what we've done, pet, no one could dare call you anything close to a lady." He nodded towards his bed, leaving no mistake as to what he alluded, and pushed her aside with a tar-stained hand. Jack picked the rum bottle up and drained it in one swig.
"Tell me again, dearie. How it is that you're so far above me and yet you can't seem to keep your prim little hands off me? I do seem to remember you quite enjoying yourself. Is it that you cannot find a higher class of man to couple with? Hmm? Has James Norrington totally written you off?" Jacks eyes in the meager light were scornfull and darker than midnight. "Or is it that, daresay, you actually desire me? What does that make you? I don't think you can give your maidenhead to a pirate unless you are one of two things - a pirate yourself, or a whore. And I, for one, don't remember paying you."
"I hate you," Elizabeth spat, tears of rage welling in her brown eyes, "You despicable..filthy..wretched man." Elizabeth jumped suddenly as she heard the crash of glass splintering. She sidestepped the shards of the rum bottle on the floor where Jack had thrown it.
Jack turned and gripped her shoulders, pulling her face to within an eyelash's breadth of his own. She suddenly felt the cold, sharp signature of steel against her hand. Jack's dagger. He had pressed it against her hand. A dare lay heavy on his breath, flavored with rum.
"If you hate me, then, kill me. Right now. Cut my throat, because that's the only way to end this," Jack growled low in his throat, black eyes glittering. Elizabeth closed her palm around the smooth handle of the dagger. She felt its weight, its finely-honed edge. I could kill him. Right now. I could go back to being Miss Elizabeth Swann again. He doesn't think I'll do it...he's mocking me, the bastard.
Her eyes dropped to his neck, the wedge of bronze skin above his shirt's opening with a slight dusting of fine black hair. Images of his bare chest stung her mind, the salt of his skin on her tongue, remembering how she'd tasted his body all these nights afire with sin. I AM wicked, a ruined woman, no better than a common pirate, a common murderer. I've nothing left. She raised the knife up, lay the razor-sharp edge against the throbbing pulse of his throat. Jack didn't move, didn't even swallow. His eyes were locked on hers, black as coal. Elizabeth was furious to find herself faltering, remembering how those eyes of his dilated when he slid home inside her, and seeing the mocking disdain in them now. Currents of contempt, anger and white-hot desire simultaneously flooded her, and she raised the dagger. I've already killed him once before.
Elizabeth pressed the blade against his neck until he hissed sharply and she saw a trickle of blood run from the knife tip down his neck. A spider-web thin cut ran from his Adam's apple to just behind his ear. Elizabeth's senses begun to spin with the sight of Jack's blood. Her heart flooded her body with her own hot blood, and she felt the heat gathering, pooling urgently between her legs. She leaned forward in an instant and caught the rivulet of blood with her tongue. Jack growled low in his throat, his hands flying up to tangle in her hair and pull her roughly to him. His blood was hot and metallic and she licked the length of the wound up and down. The hardness pressing against Elizabeth's hip pulsed with each flick of her tongue on Jack's neck. She pursed her lips and sucked at the little wound, dizzy with the shock that she was tasting his blood, as he had tasted the blood of her maidenhead in that night of lightning and thunder. He moaned harshly then, yanking her head back by her hair, bringing her mouth up to his for a bruising kiss.
He invaded her mouth and was met by her tongue, hot and insistently tangling with his. She could no more keep herself from him than keep ice from melting in summer. Elizabeth felt Jack reached his hand around and he pulled another concealed dagger out of his belt. Before she could protest, he deftly sliced through her shift, just like he had done to her corset that fateful day on the Port Royal dock, and it fell in shreds to the floor. Elizabeth made a sound, something between anger and satisfaction, against his plundering mouth. So he means to ravish me yet again..that, or hack me to bits and feed me to the sharks.
Elizabeth decided to remind him that she, too, was armed. She drew her weapon down and sliced his shirt open to the waist. Blood from the superficial scratch seeped out and seemed to take all of his restraint with it. He tore the rest of his shirt off and pushed her backwards onto the bunk in one movement.
"You think you're going to have me now, but you're wrong," Elizabeth tossed her hair back and began to sit up on the bed, covering her breasts with her arm, "I'll never allow you to take such indecent liberties with my body again." That'll show him I'm no trollop.
Jack chuckled and his dark eyes passed over her with an appraising gaze. "We'll see about that, girl. You'll be begging me to take you before you leave this room." He leaned over her, his body covering hers as he brought his mouth over hers in a demanding kiss, biting her lower lip just sharply enough to bring a droplet of blood to their surface as he held her arms away from her body. She felt the passion begin to flare up inside her even more at the touch of his tongue in her mouth
Yanking down her thin undergarments, he thrust his hand against her sex. Elizabeth was horrified that he would feel the extent of her desire for him, that her body was betraying her. She could feel how incredibly wet she was already.
She tried to ignore his caresses but she involuntarily arched her hips up against his invading fingers, trying to find purchase for her most sensitive spot, and he pulled his hand away, smirking. He licked his fingers clean of her, his eyes telling her that she would not be getting any pleasure from him so easily.
Panting in anger and thwarted arousal, Elizabeth ran her fingertips up Jack's chest, drawing a trail through the blood that ran from the cut. She traced it over across his nipple, before leaning up to flick the nipple with her tongue, licking the blood off, and then nipping, tugging with her teeth. I hate this man. I hate how he makes me forget the whole world, how he makes my body explode with his touch, how he's made me into a wanton strumpet. I hate how much I want him. I hate that I can think of nothing but him. I hate that I NEED him.
Jack pushed her back down on to the mattress roughly. She raked her nails up his chest, wanting to hurt, wanting to draw more blood..wanting to anger him as he'd angered her. Jack ripped off his red bandanna and held her wrists above her head, deftly wrapping the fabric tightly so her hands were bound, and looping the long end of the fabric over the curl of an ornamental scroll on the headboard. "That'll teach you to make me bleed, witch," Jack grunted.
Elizabeth strained against her bonds, testing the strength. She found that she couldn't move her hands, could do nothing but kick at him with her legs. She thrust her knee up, aiming for the prominent bulge in his groin, the bulge she had become quite experienced with in the past fortnight, and missed. Jack moved just in time, and grabbed her legs in a bruising grip. "I wouldn't do that if I was you, darling. You might be sorry."
"I already am sorry," she said spitefully. Seeing that it was folly to think she could loosen herself, she laid back against the pillows, eyes closed, and tried her best to look completely un-aroused, to be completely impervious to his hands. She realized she was failing miserably. Jack kneaded her thighs and backside with his strong hands, purposefully avoiding her womanhood.
Opening her eyes when he removed his hands, Elizabeth watched as Jack leaned over and took a cloudy bottle of wine off the sideboard, darker than any of the rubies or garnets she'd ever seen.
"I hardly think you need any more liquor, Jack," she chided.
He smiled and slid his hand between her white thighs, holding them apart. With a wicked arch of his eyebrow, Jack poured a crimson stream from the wine bottle onto the low curve of her belly. She groaned as the wine dripped down, following the pull of gravity, towards the vee of her legs. It tickled.. and inflamed her. A scarlet drip trickled down between the petals of her sex, dissappearing into the crevice. Elizabeth bucked her hips, trying to move his hand from her belly closer to her sex, to end the maddening trickle of the wine. But Jack would have none of it. He continued to pour out just the finest trickle possible onto her sex, torturing her with the feel of the wine flowing coolly into her. Jack slid a hand under her backside to tip her hips up, keeping the liquid from dripping out. He's torturing me, she thought, he wants me to go mad.
"I think you haven't come quite to grips with your own desires, pet. Maybe you need to be reminded exactly why you've done what you've done." Jack's voice was low and smooth, like the purr of a black cat.
"Jack....I can't...please.." Elizabeth groaned, straining against her shackled arms.
"Please what, love? I can't help you until I know what it is you want."
"Damn you, Jack, you know what I want!" She sobbed, finally unable to control her tears of frustration.
"No, darling, I don't. We're different, remember? You're the proper Governor's daughter and I'm just the filthy, wretched pirate who has debauched your tender person so often this past fortnight. How could I possibly know what you want?"
His hands drew trails though the wine on her thighs. Moving the bottle up, Jack poured a splash of it onto her breast, over her nipple. He then leaned over and blew a puff of air across it, causing her nipple to tighten and tickle with the cold. She writhed against him but Jack just moved away, and repeated his ministrations with the other breast. She closed her eyes and tried to mentally will her body into submission. A sharp stinging pain jolted eyes open.
Jack had his dagger in his hand and he had stroked the tip of it across the curve of her hip, where her leg met her pelvis. A fine scratch, not serious but certainly smarting, stood out against her creamy skin. "Eyes open from now on, Elizabeth." Jack lowered his head and licked the scratch, like she'd done to him. Her flesh stung and sang at the same time. When he moved his body down again, wine bottle in hand, she thought maybe he would end her torture. But no, he was pouring more wine down the folds of her sex, the crimson fluid mixing with the nectar of her arousal. Again Jack lowered his head and blew softly on her, causing her hips to thrash.
"God, Jack! Please!" She cried, unable to even wipe away her tears. "Do you want me to beg? Is that it?"
"Beg? Of course I want you to beg. I want to hear what you want me to do to you, and that its me you want doing it." He touched the very tip of his tongue to the nub of flesh above her sex, then took it away.
Beg? She couldn't. She still had some pride left. She would never beg Jack Sparrow to...god, she couldn't even say it. Make love to her? No, this wasn't about love tonight. Touch her? Maybe. But what she really wanted was his mouth on her, like he'd done before. But he would never do it unless...
"Jack...I want you to..."
"Yes?"
She swallowed her pride and gave in. "I want you to..use your mouth. Taste me, Jack."
He smiled against her thigh. "Taste what, love? You'll have to be more specific."
Damn him. She dug deep and found a word she'd only heard in bawdy pirate jokes and from the scullery maids in her father's house when they didn't know she was eavesdropping. "I want your mouth on my....on my cunt, Jack. Please."
Jack groaned in satisfaction and thrust his tongue against her tender flesh. Elizabeth arched her back off the bed as he flicked and laved her, rubbing her with his firm lips. Jack slid his tongue into her opening, drinking the wine from her, moaning as he tasted the fragrant mixture of wine and her juices. She looked down at him and the sight of his fine mouth between her legs inflamed her even more. She knew what she wanted.
"Your fingers, Jack. Inside me. Please," she moaned. Jack complied, sliding one long finger inside her hot channel and crooking it back, rubbing at that certain spot inside her. When he found it, she moaned and thrashed so hard he dropped the wine bottle, spilling the contents across his lap, soaking his breeches and the floor. He ignored the growing stain and instead flicked her harder with his tongue, drawing the little bit of flesh between his teeth and gently sucking it. So close, she thought, so close. He moved faster and she felt her climax begin to wash over her, causing her body to arch and stiffen against his mouth. But it was incomplete; she was suddenly overcome by the absolutely violent need to have him inside her, have more than just his fingers to fill her. Nothing else mattered.
"Jack...I want you..." she gasped. He didn't move, just continued to slide his finger inside her, dark eyes locked on hers. "No...Not that....I want......" she saw in his eyes that he wanted her to say it. No way around it.
"Fuck me, Jack. Please," Elizabeth opened her legs wider, begging him to end her torment. Jack's face clouded with desire as he rose up over her, loosening her bonds with one hand and unbuttoning his breeches with the other. When both were accomplished, Elizabeth thrust her hands into Jack's breeches and closed them around his iron-stiff prick. "Now, Jack." She couldn't wait any longer.
"Damnit, woman, wait," Jack grunted as he yanked his pants off. He covered her again and she wrapped her legs around his hips, feeling his cock at her entrance. she reached down to guide him inside, but his hand grabbed hers. "Say it again, Lizzie. Say it."
She groaned, but acquiesced. "Fuck me, Jack." He growled low in his chest at the sound of those dirty words, and slid into her in one deep thrust.
Elizabeth cried out, her climax shaking her body again as he finally filled and stretched her. They found a furious, throbbing rhythm together, a dance of teeth and tongues and bodies and breath that stole all animosity from them. He bit her neck and she raked her nails down his back, digging them into his backside, drawing him further into her. She clung to him as he thrust into her over and over, murmuring against her neck in those words she didn't recognize..."Te quiero, corazon, te quiero..."
They moaned and sighed in unison, bodies speaking in the language that required no words. She furiously worked her body against his prick deep inside her, wanting his heat to flood her, burn her, purify her. When he reached his climax he groaned like a man dying, a man with nothing to hold back, and emptied himself into her.
They lay quietly entwined for a long moment, neither one able to move from the force of their passion, until sleep overcame them. After a time, Jack slid out, rolling over to the edge of the bed, wiping himself off with a damp rag. Elizabeth rolled onto her side, suddenly achingly aware of what Jack had meant.
She knew what she wanted. She wanted Jack.
Tears flowed again, stinging her face. She curled herself as small as she could, trying to hide from him. But he moved to lay behind her, aware of her tears, and wrapped her in his arms. She was shocked at his tenderness, after what had passed between them with knives and blood and words. He brushed her hair away from her face and turned her to her back, stroking her body gently. "Shh, love. I know. I'm sorry. I should never have....my blood was so angry tonight.. and the rum...I wasn't myself. I should have never said...such things. I'd never hurt you." He kissed her cheek, tasting her tears.
"What am I going to do, Jack? How does this end?" she sobbed into his neck.
"I don't know. I cant answer that. You're going to have to make a decision, eventually."
Yes, she thought. But there will be hurt no matter what decision I make. She looked down across Jack's body, from the cut on his neck to the scratch down his chest, no longer bleeding. She remembered the cut on her hip, and the blood on her thighs from her maidenhead all those nights ago, and the blood that came from her with the darkening of the moon. Turning over her hand, she regarded the scar there from Barbossa's ritual on Isla de Muerta, and took Jacks's hand in hers, held it palm to palm, scars melding. Blood, scars. Blood comes in pain, in tears, staining. But blood brings healing, purging the bad, renewing life with each moon's change. Its necessary. It reminds us we're human. Pain reminds us we're alive.
Running from pain is like running from what makes me alive.
She sighed against Jack's chest, soothed by the sound of his heartbeat and his strong arms holding her, her whole body singing with exhaustion and ache. I'm alive. He's alive.
I'm not running anymore.
*Fin*
A/N: This is my first published erotic writing, so please comment and give concrit where necessary. - Laurel