Alchemy, By Munchie

*delurks*

*drops fic*

*goes back to lurking*

Title: Alchemy
Author: munchkinott
Rating: NC-17
Feedback: If you feel like it. Flames will be used to light cannon.

Pairing: Jack/Elizabeth, Elizabeth/Will, implied Jack/Will
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not making any money.
Archive: pirategasm, my homepage (if I ever get it finished), any other takers please ask me first.

Summary:
Study me then, you who shall lovers be
At the next world, that is, at the next spring:
For I am every dead thing,
In whom love wrought new alchemy.
- John Donne (1572-1631) -

Notes: Post-Movie (18 months-2 years later), established relationships.

HUGE thanks go to the amazing grammar-wrangling techniques of alyse. Also to skylark74 and dockate for their (im)moral support. :-)

“Interestin’.” Jack holds the ring between his thumb and forefinger, looking through the loop as though it were an eyeglass. He examines it carefully, rolling it with his finger over and back across the joint of his thumb. A simple ring of steel, wide on Elizabeth’s slender third finger. Her wedding finger, her wedding band. “I always wondered…” Jack whispers, his eyes dark with curiosity, “why you didn’t seal your vows with gold…”

Elizabeth touches her hand to the flat above her breasts, her fingers curling absently, seeking a chain and a charm no longer there. “Because I asked him not to.” She speaks quietly, suddenly conscious of the invisible chain her hand toys with, the non-existent weight of a gold medallion resting against her chest and drops her hand to her side, uncomfortable with the realisation of herself.

“Oh.” Jack squints, tilting his head, pretending not to notice. “That’s craftsmanship that is. You realise… We’re never goin’ to make a pirate out of him.”

“Will is…” She takes a hesitant step towards Jack, rapidly formulating her husband’s defence then stops. Thinks better of it. She tilts her head to the side, a few sun bleached curls falling in front of her eyes. “We?” She folds her arms, waiting for an answer. She knows there’ll be one, knows from the secretive playful smile forming on Jack’s lips. “You sir, I believe, are the only pirate in the room.”

Jack squints again, stepping back, playing drunk. He flattens his palm to his chest, as though swearing an honest oath. All the time black shadowed eyes slide their gaze over Elizabeth’s form. Britches and boots, a dagger sheathed and mounted on the thick leather belt circling her hips. Breasts bound tightly with dark linen strips exposing her flat abdomen. Gone is Elizabeth’s pale English pallor. Instead her skin is as golden as her hair, coloured so by long days spent on the Black Pearl’s upper deck. An old British officer’s frock coat, much too large for her frame, the sleeves long since ripped away hangs from her shoulders. “You sure ‘bout that?” Jack grins. “You look like a pirate t’me, love. Bu’ I’m jus’ guessin’.”

Elizabeth shakes her head and snatches at the ring. Jack clenches his fist around it quickly, sidestepping her. She lunges again, Jack counters to the right. Left right, right left. Jack puts his hands behind his back and performs a little jig on the cabin boards. She narrows her eyes, a devilish smile playing on her lips. Another of Jack’s games, one she wants to play – one that she knows she can win. She moves to snatch the ring again and Jack ducks under her arm, a sliding step.

“Nice try, my darlin’.” He stretches out his arms in victory. “Bu’ I’m Captain Jack Sparrow!”

Elizabeth shrugs, smiles and sweeps Jack’s left foot out from under him with the toe of her boot. He falls backwards, landing with a surprised cry on the cabin’s bed.

“Parlay?” Jack offers up her ring from his prone position on the bed.

“Pirate,” Elizabeth says snatching the ring back, replacing it on her finger.

“Not from where I’m standin’?… Sittin’?… Am?” Jack frowns. Resting up on his elbows, his features show him trying to work out how he’d ended up on his back. How Elizabeth had put him there. On the bed, on his back. One nod to the right, another to the left, he sits bolt upright and his arms play out the rhythm of his little jig. “What am I doin’ ‘ere again?” he asks Elizabeth, cocking his head to the right. “Oh yeah.” He swings his left leg out, wrapping around Elizabeth’s waist. She shouts in surprise. His arms reach around her, catching her as she falls onto the bed. “That’s what I came in ‘ere for…”

He bows to meet Elizabeth’s lips with his own; he misses, Elizabeth moving too fast or maybe he allowed her to? She rolls him over onto his back, her knees sinking into the feather mattress, pinning Jack as he wriggles beneath her. Her hands rest on his shoulders, fisting handfuls of his shirt. It is Elizabeth now who dips her head, faces close enough to brush noses. Jack’s scent, heavy with sweat and sea water and the slightest breath of rum, assails her. Jack cranes his neck upwards, slightly closing the distance between their parted lips. Elizabeth jerks her head back, her smile broadening she licks her lips and watches Jack’s pupils dilate with arousal.

He lifts a hand to cup her face and strokes her cheek with a gentleness which belies his profession. Hands and fingers as rough and raw as the sea, as hers soon too will be, touch her skin, leaving tingles in their wake. He pushes blonde curls back from her face and she surrenders to his touch, letting her eyelids fall softly closed, head drop a little further forward, as Jack tugs at the thin leather strings tying her hair.

“All I arsk is a little kiss, my darlin’. All I arsk…” Jack’s voice pours like sweet French wine, rich and decadent. His breath is warm against Elizabeth’s chin. She groans, body arching like a cat’s, responding to Jack’s hand carding through the weight of her freed hair.

“Jack…” she whispers in the half second before his lips seal over hers.

***

“The things that we hold most dear to us…” Elizabeth speaks quietly, more to herself than to Jack. “Those things…” Jack twines his fingers with hers, curling his arm around her waist. “Their worth is greater than gold or jewels.” She allows her head to fall back against Jack’s shoulder,their bodies’ rhythm achingly slow, rocking into each other. Against, like currents and tides on a lazy summer morning. Her moisture is slick between both their thighs and she slides her knees further apart on the bed, hoping – needing – to take Jack deeper. The shift in her position cascades deliciously small tremors of pleasure down her spine.

“I know, my love.” Almost reverentially Jack whispers to her. He maps a trail from Elizabeth’s earlobe down to the base of her throat with tender kisses.

“That is why I asked him…” Elizabeth inhales sharply, her back arching, a single surge of ecstasy coursing through her, strong but not strong enough to tip her over the edge. “Will… For steel instead of… Oh god, Jack!”

Jack shushes her with a finger to her lips. She mumbles a wordless complaint. , She wants to move faster now, scenting herself on Jack’s fingers. Rip Jack’s orgasm from him before he claims hers. Only Jack holds her tighter, stays her needy thrusts. She feels boneless, just muscle and nerves tightening; hyperaware of every touch, every kiss, the slightest trickle of perspiration snaking her skin. She’s too close now. Too close to speak or care, only feel.

Feel Jack lifting her as he rises behind her, his hand guiding her hip back down, easing their tempo up a notch. Then two. His length sliding in and out of her body. She wants to cry out, scream, the tension building inside of her taut. Her breaths as come hard and ragged as Jack’s. The beads in his braids feel so cold against her burning skin, moustache tickling the nape of her neck. Elizabeth reaches over her shoulder, holding Jack as tight as she can when the colours begin to sparkle in front of her eyes.

Her body peaks like a wave, rising up around him. She tightens around him, exquisitely so. Imprisoning him inside her, forcing him to ride out her body’s wave. He can’t. Jack’s body answers hers in liquid pulses. His turn to see specks of colour before his eyes, feel himself falling forward, headlong into a beautiful abyss. Jack rests his forehead against the softness of her hair, Elizabeth’s name caught in his depths of his throat.

Just time for one more kiss, and then the storm is over.

***

Elizabeth wakes, strong sunlight pouring through the tiny panes in the cabin windows. She shields her eyes with her hand, before becoming accustomed to the near white light. She regrets not closing the shutters the night before. It is late in the morning, far too late. Her mind races through the list of daily tasks she hasn’t fulfilled and Elizabeth groans weakly to herself.

“Good morning. Sleep well?” Will asks, gifting her with a gentle kiss.

“Yes. No!” She corrects herself. “I have overslept! The crew have missed breakfast, I have missed my turn on watch, Anamaria will have me tied to the crow’s nest for a week and…”

“I asked if you have slept well?” Will smiles into her hair, drawing Elizabeth into a hug. She nods, snuggling closer, returning her husband’s embrace and question with a sated ‘mmhmmm’. “Good.” He kisses her cheek lightly. “Now go back to sleep, Mrs. Turner. Jack took your watch, Mr. Gibbs took charge of breakfast – I rather think he overdid the rum last night, if not he certainly overdid it this morning…” Will blinks, he’s not sure if Gibbs’ special recipe maize porridge with bananas and rum is an experience he wants to repeat or not. “And Anamaria will be fine, providing you don’t go near the helm again before Christmas!” He laughs, and then his voice changes, grows thoughtful.

“How odd…” He toys with Elizabeth’s long hair, lifting a single slender five-plait braid from her pillow.

“I was about to say the same thing myself…” Elizabeth frowns, intrigued by the three small porcelain and pewter beads woven into the braid in Will’s hair.

“Jack?” Will shows Elizabeth the braid in her own hair. Three similar beads adorn her tightly plaited braid. Elizabeth’s smile is distant, she thumbs the beads Jack has tied into her husband’s hair. Her eyes drift lower, finding traces of Jack on her husband’s skin. The pale pink marks of kisses which would always be faded to nothing before midday. “Well? Are you going to let me in on your little secret or has our Captain truly gone mad this time?”

Elizabeth’s gaze meets Will’s; hers is softened by her smile. She touches her fingers to the beads in Will’s braid, taking the first between her index finger and thumb. “Elizabeth.” She touches the second. “Will.” And finally the third. “Jack.”

“Oh. He has gone mad.” Will frowns, still confused. Elizabeth smiles and kisses her husband, Jack’s taste faint on his lips. “It had to happen one day…” Will says between kisses which appear to be getting longer, deeper. “I supp-“ He surrenders, melting into Elizabeth’s embrace.

***

Elizabeth shrugs her shirt on, pulling the woven ties tight to cover her breast bindings. She moves around the cabin silently, collecting up her belt and boots, careful not to disturb Will as he sleeps. He is stretched out on his back, one arm slung above his head. Half under the covers, half out. Elizabeth tiptoes to the side of the bed. Her intention is to plant a kiss on her sleeping husband before she leaves. She doesn’t. She fears the gentlest touch will wake him, though she can’t resist one more touch of their mad pirate’s gift. Her fingertips linger on the centre bead of Will’s braid.

Some things truly, were more valuable than gold or jewels.

For a pirate to admit to it was, to Elizabeth, something even greater.

She straightens, picking her Officer’s frock coat off the shelf where she’d thrown it. She folds it over her arm and pads barefoot to the cabin door where she stops, her hand on the door handle.

Getting Jack Sparrow to actually say it? Now there was a challenge.

Elizabeth smirks as she opens the cabin door. Who is she, not to accept a challenge when she sees one?



THE END