[Fic] Release
Title: Release
Author: Shytan
Rating: NC-17?
Characters: Beckett/Weatherby Swann
Summary: Swann barters for Elizabeth's release.
Warnings: Slash. Oral, not very explicit.
What could he possibly offer the Lord to prevent his daughter from being executed? Weatherby Swann was running out of ideas, and his feeble attempts at verbal negotiation had failed miserably. He looked down at Lord Beckett with pleading eyes, but the gentle smile and carefree expression on Cutler's face made it clear that he couldn't care less about the Governor's plight. Gritting his teeth, Weatherby glanced around the empty room before stepping forwards and offering the last thing he could think off. He removed his wig and placed it on Beckett's desk, then stepped back so that he was now in front of the Lord. Beckett was standing in front of the desk, leaning his back against the mahogany wood. He stood upright now, a brief flash of surprise on his face as the Governor knelt before him.
Weatherby was ashamed that he felt a brief twinge of amusement when he saw the mild surprise on Beckett's face. He had apparently been incorrect to assume that Beckett was offered such things occasionally, and he suddenly hoped that Beckett understood the offer, especially as the Governor had never had to offer such a thing before. It had been offered to Weatherby once or twice, but he had never accepted such a thing. Apparently, neither had Beckett.
"I don't normally accept such an offer," the Lord drawled, tilting his head as he considered the man before him.
"I don't normally provide such an offer," Weatherby replied, staring at Beckett's well-polished shoes. He dared to lift his gaze after a brief moment of silence, to find that Beckett was staring at the map on the wall rather than down at him, a thoughtful expression on his face.
Beckett tended to be private, and was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He had not done so recently however, and suddenly longed for something a little different. But releasing Elizabeth Swann? That was hardly a good deal, especially as there were other, cheaper methods to obtain what he suddenly desired. He shifted his gaze back to Weatherby Swann, locking eyes with the Governor. Swann wanted his daughter's release desperately, and would it really cause that much harm? Perhaps this offer was worth exploring.
"Can you provide me with a good reason for accepting your offer?" Beckett asked. It was bad enough that Weatherby had to offer this in the first place, but now he had to negotiate for his offer to be accepted? Although to be honest with himself, Weatherby's opinion of Beckett had significantly increased due to Beckett's hesitation. The question was not asked out of a need to degrade the Governor, but rather to find a substantial reason for accepting the proffered service. Although Beckett's voice was unwavering, Weatherby was certain that he could see a touch of nervousness on the Lord's face.
"A reason? Well... that is to say, I... we both want what the other can give," Weatherby stumbled over his words, quite unsure about what to say.
"Do we?" Beckett asked, not entirely convinced that this was a good deal.
"Well yes... you know there's nothing I want more than to see my daughter released... and surely you wish for a release of your own?" Weatherby could barely believe the words coming out of his mouth.
"So we may want to take, but do we want to give?" Beckett asked after a short pause. So that was what bothered him the most about the deal, what was holding him back from taking it.
"Elizabeth is a young lady, surely releasing her would not cause any harm to you?" Weatherby pleaded.
"That's not what I was talking about." The statement caused Weatherby's opinion of Beckett to grow once more, and he started to feel a new-found respect for the Lord. Now all he had to do was convince him that he wanted to do this. His first instinct was to argue that it was all he had left to give, but he doubted that would go down well with the Lord based on their conversation so far. He decided to take a gamble.
"I assure you that doing this would cause me no harm in any way, and I am perfectly happy to oblige you. If you like to, you can think of it as an exchange of favours, rather than a barter," Weatherby said with a steady voice, his hand tugging on Beckett's breeches.
"I like favours," Beckett replied softly, making no motion to stop Weatherby's tentative hands. Pulling the bottom of the Beckett's shirt upwards to reveal the Lord, Weatherby felt a small wave of relief and confidence as he saw that Beckett was fairly lightly endowed. This would not be too difficult or unpleasant... right? He glanced up at the Lord to see he was once again staring at the map, although this time more purposefully. His cheeks looked slightly coloured, but it was difficult to tell in the candlelight. Returning his attention to the job at hand, Weatherby pressed his lips to the Lord's soft skin.
"Father?!" Elizabeth exclaimed.
"You're free to go!" Weatherby grinned at his daughter, wrapping his arms around her.
"How did you...? Oh Father... Father? Where's your wig?" Elizabeth asked.
"Oh dear..." Weatherby blushed as he realised where he had left it. Weatherby turned around abruptly and started leading his daughter away, thanking the darkness that hid his hardness as memories of the soft, panting, pink-cheeked Lord splayed out on the chair after they were done flooded back to the front of his mind.
Author: Shytan
Rating: NC-17?
Characters: Beckett/Weatherby Swann
Summary: Swann barters for Elizabeth's release.
Warnings: Slash. Oral, not very explicit.
What could he possibly offer the Lord to prevent his daughter from being executed? Weatherby Swann was running out of ideas, and his feeble attempts at verbal negotiation had failed miserably. He looked down at Lord Beckett with pleading eyes, but the gentle smile and carefree expression on Cutler's face made it clear that he couldn't care less about the Governor's plight. Gritting his teeth, Weatherby glanced around the empty room before stepping forwards and offering the last thing he could think off. He removed his wig and placed it on Beckett's desk, then stepped back so that he was now in front of the Lord. Beckett was standing in front of the desk, leaning his back against the mahogany wood. He stood upright now, a brief flash of surprise on his face as the Governor knelt before him.
Weatherby was ashamed that he felt a brief twinge of amusement when he saw the mild surprise on Beckett's face. He had apparently been incorrect to assume that Beckett was offered such things occasionally, and he suddenly hoped that Beckett understood the offer, especially as the Governor had never had to offer such a thing before. It had been offered to Weatherby once or twice, but he had never accepted such a thing. Apparently, neither had Beckett.
"I don't normally accept such an offer," the Lord drawled, tilting his head as he considered the man before him.
"I don't normally provide such an offer," Weatherby replied, staring at Beckett's well-polished shoes. He dared to lift his gaze after a brief moment of silence, to find that Beckett was staring at the map on the wall rather than down at him, a thoughtful expression on his face.
Beckett tended to be private, and was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. He had not done so recently however, and suddenly longed for something a little different. But releasing Elizabeth Swann? That was hardly a good deal, especially as there were other, cheaper methods to obtain what he suddenly desired. He shifted his gaze back to Weatherby Swann, locking eyes with the Governor. Swann wanted his daughter's release desperately, and would it really cause that much harm? Perhaps this offer was worth exploring.
"Can you provide me with a good reason for accepting your offer?" Beckett asked. It was bad enough that Weatherby had to offer this in the first place, but now he had to negotiate for his offer to be accepted? Although to be honest with himself, Weatherby's opinion of Beckett had significantly increased due to Beckett's hesitation. The question was not asked out of a need to degrade the Governor, but rather to find a substantial reason for accepting the proffered service. Although Beckett's voice was unwavering, Weatherby was certain that he could see a touch of nervousness on the Lord's face.
"A reason? Well... that is to say, I... we both want what the other can give," Weatherby stumbled over his words, quite unsure about what to say.
"Do we?" Beckett asked, not entirely convinced that this was a good deal.
"Well yes... you know there's nothing I want more than to see my daughter released... and surely you wish for a release of your own?" Weatherby could barely believe the words coming out of his mouth.
"So we may want to take, but do we want to give?" Beckett asked after a short pause. So that was what bothered him the most about the deal, what was holding him back from taking it.
"Elizabeth is a young lady, surely releasing her would not cause any harm to you?" Weatherby pleaded.
"That's not what I was talking about." The statement caused Weatherby's opinion of Beckett to grow once more, and he started to feel a new-found respect for the Lord. Now all he had to do was convince him that he wanted to do this. His first instinct was to argue that it was all he had left to give, but he doubted that would go down well with the Lord based on their conversation so far. He decided to take a gamble.
"I assure you that doing this would cause me no harm in any way, and I am perfectly happy to oblige you. If you like to, you can think of it as an exchange of favours, rather than a barter," Weatherby said with a steady voice, his hand tugging on Beckett's breeches.
"I like favours," Beckett replied softly, making no motion to stop Weatherby's tentative hands. Pulling the bottom of the Beckett's shirt upwards to reveal the Lord, Weatherby felt a small wave of relief and confidence as he saw that Beckett was fairly lightly endowed. This would not be too difficult or unpleasant... right? He glanced up at the Lord to see he was once again staring at the map, although this time more purposefully. His cheeks looked slightly coloured, but it was difficult to tell in the candlelight. Returning his attention to the job at hand, Weatherby pressed his lips to the Lord's soft skin.
"Father?!" Elizabeth exclaimed.
"You're free to go!" Weatherby grinned at his daughter, wrapping his arms around her.
"How did you...? Oh Father... Father? Where's your wig?" Elizabeth asked.
"Oh dear..." Weatherby blushed as he realised where he had left it. Weatherby turned around abruptly and started leading his daughter away, thanking the darkness that hid his hardness as memories of the soft, panting, pink-cheeked Lord splayed out on the chair after they were done flooded back to the front of his mind.