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Elizabeth didn’t really see this. This didn’t really happen. It’s all a figment of my overactive imagination, is not meant to cast aspersions on Disney’s fine quality products, and it also makes no profit of its own whatsoever.
Note: Elizabeth discovers her inner slasher.
What Elizabeth Saw
Elizabeth saw the Isla de Muerta. It floated before her in the mist, like something from a long past nightmare, much as it has always looked from a distance. As they drew closer, she saw that where the rough opening used to gape, there was no cave. She was sure she remembered the neighbouring rock formations, but the island had changed, up close.
The Interceptor II hugged the shore, passing around to the side of the island she’d never visited before. The cliffs soared, jagged and menacing. This man, Captain DeMaurier, had to be mistaken. This island could not be inhabitable. Yet, he insisted that he lived there, along with Mr. Gibbs and Captain Jack Sparrow and Will Turner and a great many others.
She looked at the captain. He stood at the wheel, limbs loose and relaxed as if her were not navigating between jagged rocks and the unforgiving shoreline. He was a nice looking man, almost pretty, but with shocking chunks of hair sticking out in all directions. She’d never seen anything like that before, except on a few degenerate pirates. But this captain wore the collar of a clergyman, and a few of the crew called him Brother Alphonse, instead of Captain DeMaurier. Elizabeth shivered and turned her attention back to the cliffs. Why had she ever agreed to go on this foolish journey?
She looked to her other side and saw the dark, slim woman sitting on a barrel on the deck, refined and calm as if she were sitting in a formal parlour serving tea. She held a parasol in her left hand, dainty, although the sun did not penetrate the seemingly permanent mist that shrouded the cursed isle. Her raven hair was gathered loosely at the nape of her neck by a pretty cream-coloured ribbon, holding it off her high cheeks and aristocratic forehead. Her mouth, set in its habitual pout, was a lovely rouge, and when her black eyes met Elizabeth’s her tongue darted out to moisten them.
That was her answer. She would do anything this woman asked of her.
Signal lights flashed from the top of a cliff. The first mate, Matthew he’d said his name was, tilted a flat, polished metal disc in answer. Elizabeth lifted the spyglass Matthew had loaned her, and looked to where the flashes came from. She was shocked to see Murtogg. She remembered him from the fort. James told her he was dead, yet here he was, on the Isla de Muerta. And the man next to him looked exactly like the other one. Mul-something, she tried to remember. This journey grew stranger with every passing minute.
Elizabeth gasped when the ship turned sharply inland. She was a second away from crying out with alarm when she saw that the solid wall of rock was not solid at all. It was an abruptly curved passage through the rock. It didn’t seem possible that a ship the size of the Interceptor could squeeze through the narrow way, yet Matthew insisted that not only had the Interceptor II negotiated the channel many times, the Dauntless and the Black Pearl also made berth within.
The walls of solid rock rose oppressively above the ship. The man at the wheel was not at all perturbed by the danger. He sang in a soft, deep voice, a hymn Elizabeth recognized from church. Except he’d changed the words. It was now a mildly profane song, not terribly shocking or abominably rude, but not a tune she would repeat to the Ladies Church Circle.
She had no more time to be appalled by the rude preacher, for the way opened suddenly and the ship coasted into a large cove surrounded by green trees and white sands. And then Elizabeth saw the Black Pearl, looking much as it had the last time she saw it, when she’d watched Jack swim toward it and Will held her in his arms. Will’s strong arms, as she recalled.
There was a flurry of activity on shore when the Interceptor II glided to a halt on a sandbar. Matthew and another man, who seemed to speak no English at all but communicated well enough with Matthew in his own language, lowered the longboat and the first mate bid her climb down to it. As they rowed to shore, Elizabeth watched the people on shore grow larger and clearer. She recognized Mr. Gibbs at once, and Mr. Cotton as well, with the parrot on his shoulder. She recognized Anamaria as well, and beside her stood an older woman who looked very much like Anamaria, who must have been her mother.
Beside Anamaria’s mother, though, stood a man who took Elizabeth’s breath away. He was tall and handsome, with wavy hair and a beautiful face and wide, dark eyes. This had to be Will’s father, because he was the spitting image of Will. Or rather, Will was the spitting image of him, but younger. Or so she assumed.
She had no idea if Will still looked the same. She hadn’t seen him in well over a year, when they had bumped into each other on the street. Will had kept his head down, clearly embarrassed, apologized profusely and hurried off without even looking her in the eye. The man on shore looked her in the eye. He seemed to know precisely who she was. Of course, Mr. Gibbs would have told him.
Elizabeth helped the other woman out of the boat and looked around. There was nothing but beach and palms visible.
“The village is through here,” Anamaria said after everyone had been introduced. She pointed to a wide path winding through the thick undergrowth.
Elizabeth looked back at the Pearl. “I’ll be along in a moment. I want to take a look at the Pearl.”
Elizabeth walked along the sand, toward the Pearl. As she drew closer, she saw that the ship was considerably cleaner than the last time she’d been aboard. It looked as if only a small section of hull need be scraped before the Pearl would be ready to make sail again.
She spotted something spread out on the rocks. Clothes drying in the bright sun. The sun was quite bright here, and she could see the ring of mist surrounding the island at the tops of the cliffs. She stood at the edge of the reeds and studied the clothes.
One article looked very much like the frock coat Jack Sparrow used to wear, she thought. There were shirts and trousers, vest and sashes, all laid out neatly next to a dull red scarf.
She looked back to where the longboat had landed. Someone had taken it back to the Interceptor II. She could just barely make out the marks in the sand where it had been dragged ashore. She hoped she would be able to find the path to the village again. The shore looked the same everywhere around the cove – a stretch of white sand met by thick undergrowth and trees. Elizabeth noticed some movement to her right.
Three steps, then a pond came into view. Fresh water gurgled down from a mountain spring; she could smell the lack of salt; and pooled before wending through reeds and sand to the water where the Pearl loomed behind her.
Two more steps and she saw Jack.
As she’d never seen him before.
Elizabeth instinctively drew closer to the palm tree to her left. From that vantage she was somewhat shielded from view, and could see even more of Jack as she’d never seen him before.
Naked. She didn’t know why that was so surprising. Everyone is naked under their clothing; even people one would not wish to see naked. She wasn’t at all sure that she wished to see Jack naked, but there he was.
His hands were tangled up in a shirt and thrown over his head, as if in submission, which was absurd because if there was one thing Elizabeth knew she knew, it was that Jack Sparrow never submitted. But his hands were wrapped in the dull reddish shirt and his arms were flung up, obscuring the top part of his face, and his chest was bare. Naked.
The two bullet wounds on his chest were paler than before, fainter, as were some of the scars on his arms. None of the tattoos had faded in the least. His wiry arms strained and his face contorted with what had to be pleasure. He had his head tilted back with his mouth open, so the sun glinted on gold teeth. He still had the little braids in his beard. She imagined he would have two smears of thick, black kohl beneath his eyes, but she couldn’t see them with the shirt in the way.
Hadn’t changed all that much, as far as she could tell, except for the fact that she’d never seen him naked before. Not that that meant anything had changed or not changed, but it was new to her.
He was lean enough for ribs to show when he arched his back, and had little hair on his torso, but for the black line that led from his navel down. Elizabeth saw the clean long lines of his torso tapering downwards, drawing her eye down…
… to a mass of damp brown curls. Right where Elizabeth would have expected to see something entirely different. That would explain the obscene noises Jack was making.
Two hands slid up Jack’s torso, fingers splayed, squeezing and testing the skin under them, plucking at Jack’s nipples, scratching his sides. Large hands. Rough hands. Blacksmith’s hands.
They had to be.
Elizabeth had to put her own hand to her mouth to keep from crying out. Jack was starting to struggle with his bonds. He groped to one side, fumbling through layers of silk, at the basket that lay on the blanket beside him. The head rose.
“Let me help you with that.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes. She would know that voice anywhere. Soft and deep, polite even in a situation like this.
When she opened her eyes, Elizabeth saw that Will had untangled Jack’s hands and had playfully tossed the shirt over Jack’s face. Jack sank his hands immediately into the glossy curls and forced the head back down to his groin. Will made a muffled sound, but it was not one of protest or even surprise. It was closer to a purr.
Jack spread his legs, and Will gripped his thighs hard. Elizabeth didn’t need to see any detail to know what he was doing. She wasn’t entirely naïve. It wasn’t an activity James had ever asked her to perform, but she’d heard whispered tell of it.
She couldn’t be shocked by the mere fact that Will and Jack were so obviously involved. She’d known about this, on an intellectual level, ever since that time in the garden when Will had called out Jack’s name. And when James returned in disgrace, he’d told Elizabeth of it. But seeing it in front of her was… James had not gone into this sort of detail. And Elizabeth had not thought on the mechanics of it before, as she had been concentrating on James and her marriage.
The fact that Will wanted to do things like that had no affect on her at all. None.
Will reared up and leaned over Jack. Now she could see his shoulders, broad and naked, golden. He must have been spending time in the sun, shirtless. Muscles rippled across his back, and stood out in sharp relief from the backs of his arms as he leaned over Jack’s torso. He grabbed the shirt with his teeth and dragged it off Jack’s face.
The way Jack looked up at Will was positively debauched. The kohl was there, dark and sinful under his eyes, and he stared up at Will as if he might eat him alive. If she were Will, she was sure she would have been revolted. Instead, Will leaned down, and Elizabeth could just see the side of his face as he kissed Jack. Kissed him passionately. For a long time. When he pulled back, he licked around Jack’s open mouth. Elizabeth could see his tongue. He slid down and tugged at one of the little braids in Jack’s beard with his teeth.
Elizabeth cringed, but did not look away.
Jack reached over his head and drew a bottle from the basket. He grinned as he pressed it to Will’s hand. Will pushed himself up and straddled Jack’s thighs. Now Elizabeth could see Will all the way down to his waist, the way the wide shoulders narrowed to a trim waist. Filthy pirate hands stole around his waist. Will didn’t seem to mind at all. Jack stroked up and down Will’s sides while Will uncorked the bottle.
Will lifted the bottle and poured some of the contents over his fingers. Some sort of oil, it was. He sat back and dropped his hand down. Jack hissed, and Will’s arm flexed.
“I thought you wanted to be captain today?” Jack half-spoke, half-grunted, with the hint of a mocking tone to it, but filled with a strain Elizabeth recognized. James had always had that sound to his voice when she put her hand around him. Not that he spoke much when she’d did that, but on the rare occasion when he did say something his voice did have that quality.
“Changed my mind,” Will said.
There was no way Elizabeth could deny it. That was Will’s voice.
“Well then, Mr. Turner, if that be the case…” and Jack wriggled out from between Will’s thighs and crawled around him.
Will straightened up, and Elizabeth saw, just for a moment, where the indent of his waist flowed out into the curve of his arse, and what an arse it was. Beautiful. She never thought of a man’s arse as beautiful before. But then, she’d never seen Will Turner’s arse naked before. She had seen it clothed, and it looked just fine in clothes. But this was… more.
She imagined that, if she were a man, she might want to get her hands on that arse too. Or perhaps she simply wanted to get her hands on it. But it was Jack who had his hands on Will’s arse.
She couldn’t recall ever having seen James’s arse, not like that. The lights were usually out, and he didn’t parade around naked in front of her, at any rate. She touched it, of course, in the course of things, but she didn’t remember it to be quite as firm or round as Will’s arse looked. It was entirely different from her current lover’s arse, as well.
Jack had a very nice arse too, she now saw. Different from Will’s, not quite so rounded. But it really was quite lovely to look at, even if it did belong to the disreputable pirate. She didn’t have much time to see it, because Jack sat down at the same time he pushed Will forward, and then Will was on all fours and she had an entirely different view of his arse.
Oh my, Elizabeth thought. That was not something she expected to see today or any day.
Jack’s hands played all over Will’s arse, pressing into the flesh and sneaking into the dark crevice. Jack leaned down and sank his teeth into the soft flesh. Elizabeth was so shocked she gasped, but the noise was not heard by either man, because Jack was nuzzling between the lovely cheeks and Will was groaning.
Elizabeth stared. He was… she couldn’t believe it. Will grabbed the blanket in his fists, moaning and panting. He spread his legs wider, and as he sank down Jack’s mouth followed. Despicable, Elizabeth thought. Will dropped to his elbows, pushing his arse up further. Jack was making wet licking noises, and when he pulled back his tongue was still stuck out, pointed and wet, shaped as if he’d been… Elizabeth covered her mouth with her hand again.
But why wouldn’t he do that? She loved the touch of her lover’s tongue on her. Not her arse. But still, it made sense. In a way. The way a tongue felt there was different from the feel of anything else.
Why hadn’t James ever kissed her there? Didn’t he know she would have liked it? He mustn’t have known about it, because she knew there was no reason not to. She knew, from her own experience, that it tasted just fine. And maybe if he had kissed her there, then it would have been more comfortable when he put himself inside her. She imagined Will might have done it to her, if he hadn’t called Jack’s name out like that.
Just like that. Will called out Jack’s name the same way he’d called it out in the garden. Jack rubbed one hand across Will’s arse and slid his index finger toward the hole he’d just been licking. Elizabeth knew exactly what Jack was doing, and the thought was appalling. She knew what buggering was, but she’d never expected to actually witness it. But then, she could look at Will’s arse and see that any man who was interested in buggering would be tempted to bugger it. And she didn’t stop watching as Jack sank his finger in deep and turned it. His forearm twitched.
“Fuck!”
Elizabeth blinked. Will Turner had just said ‘fuck’. That was not a word she would expect to hear from Will. It was not a word she ever expected to hear, period.
James had said it, a few times. More than a few times. James usually said it when he was about to climax, and he said it as if it was something he had to expel. He spat it out as if he was ejaculating it the same way he was ejaculating his seed.
Will didn’t say it like that.
Jack made a humming noise, sort of like encouragement, and slid another finger inside. Elizabeth stared in horror when she fully realized that he was going to put his… inside that little… there was no way! But Jack leaned in again and she knew he was licking again because Will was squirming again. This time, when Jack pulled back, he had both hands on Will’s arse, fingers out and splayed on either side of the dark opening, and he leaned down again and spit and then rubbed the saliva around the hole with his thumb.
Will said “Fuck!” again, and it was not a thing to be rid of, some distasteful thing to be cast out in disgust. It wasn’t a noun at all, it was a verb. And it was a verb he very much wanted to occur, and he wanted the verb to happen inside him and right away.
It was not an expletive; it was a command.
Jack spat again, messy, disgusting and wet.
“Jack, please!” Will’s voice lowered, changed from a command to a plea.
Jack flattened his tongue and dragged it across the hole on last time, pressing, pushing the spit inside. “Calm yerself, luv, I’ll be doing this proper like, eh?” he said in a very Sparrowish manner.
Will growled and banged a fist on the ground. “Any more proper and I’ll explode before you even… ahhh!”
Three fingers effectively silenced Will, twisting and turning, and when Jack pulled the fingers out Will whimpered. Jack dropped out of sight for a second and reappeared under Will, on his back, having wriggled between Will’s widely spread thighs.
Elizabeth leaned forward so she could better see over the tall grass. Will was hovering over Jack, and she could see Jack clearly.
Or rather, Jack’s cock.
Cock.
There was another word she ordinarily didn’t think of, or wouldn’t admit to thinking of, but it suited the occasion so very well she couldn’t help it.
Jack’s cock was dark and slick from the oil, and Will was visibly wet, even from that distance, which would certainly ease the way but even so… She tried to judge the size, remembering how it hurt on her wedding night, the first time James put himself inside her. She winced when Will lowered himself, and the thick head brushed over the small opening. It was far too big to fit inside there. Nowhere near as big as James, but still too big.
Of course, this was not the first time for Will. That much was obvious. He shivered and moaned in a sluttish manner that made Elizabeth bite her lip.
Elizabeth saw that Jack was holding his breath as Will straightened up and reached behind himself to guide Jack’s cock to him. Will sank down, spreading his legs even more to lower himself, and the hard cock pushed inside.
Jack said, “fuck!” this time. He also said, “hot,” and “Jesus, Will,” and a long, drawn out “yeeeessss.”
Will had his hands on his thighs. The oil slicked them and made the hairs glisten in the sun. He started to move up and down on the cock, and Elizabeth could imagine moving up and down on a cock - not Jack’s cock, but a cock - like that, except not with the cock in her arse. But she could feel it between her legs, and she might have even wanted it between her legs. Not Jack’s cock, though. Not James either. Maybe it was Will’s cock she wanted.
Jack moved to meet Will, tilting his hips gracefully, as if this was a dance he’d performed before.
This was not the same Jack Sparrow. This was not the drunken miscreant who twirled the ends of his moustache and fell down unconscious on the sands in front of her in the midst of his vain attempt to get what he wanted. This Jack was sure and smooth and skilled and had exactly what he wanted.
Will fell forward and Jack’s fingers closed over bulging triceps, hanging on tight as if Will might fly off him. Will’s hair tumbled across their faces, but she knew they were kissing. Elizabeth tried to be revolted, knowing where Jack’s mouth had just been, but at this new angle she could see Jack’s cock disappearing up into Will’s arse, and that was possibly the most erotic thing she’d seen in her entire life. Which wasn’t saying much, for it was obvious to her now that there was a whole range of sexual experience out there of which she’d previously had no idea.
Elizabeth sank down against the tree, dizzy from all the excitement and wondering how she would ever be able to face Will or Jack after seeing that. Or how she would ever face anyone again, for that matter.
She listened to the two men while they fucked. Fucked, she thought to herself. And the word didn’t sound as vulgar as she’d always thought it sounded. Especially when Will said it out loud again. ‘Fuck me.’ It wasn’t a bad word at all, when Will said it. Will moaned Jack’s name a few times, and Jack encouraged him with low growls and moans. A sharp cry from Will made her stand up again.
Will was riding Jack in earnest now, and Jack was looking up at Will. Will was looking back, even if Elizabeth couldn’t see his face. James never looked at her like that when they made love. Ever. Jack’s arm was moving steadily, his hand must have been on Will’s cock, pumping him, urging him on. Will had Jack’s cock in his arse and Jack’s hand on his cock and Jack’s eyes on his face.
Will arched his back and tilted his head back, and Elizabeth noticed how much longer his hair was now, and how he didn’t even try to tame it. It curled and spread across his shoulders and fell in what were almost ringlets and when he shook his head it shimmered. His fingers tightened on his thighs and Jack cooed, “That’s it, luv, that’s it.”
Jack sucked in air loudly and thrust up hard, and he made a harsh noise, eyes closed for a second. His thighs went tense and then loose again. A shudder spread across Will’s back, rippling down through his muscles. His arse clenched and his thighs shook and then an arc, silvery white in the sunlight, sprayed across Jack’s tensed belly and splashed on his tanned skin. Jack caught the second shot on his hand, and Elizabeth watched him draw his slick fingers into his mouth and suck the seed from them hungrily.
Elizabeth wondered what it tasted like. And why James had never offered his seed to her in such a way. Jack certainly seemed to enjoy it.
Will shuddered once more, and that was when Jack opened his eyes wide and saw Elizabeth standing in the shade of the palm tree. And then Will turned, still impaled on Jack’s cock, and saw her there.
“Elizabeth!”
She stepped back, wished she’d never walked up the beach, but she knew that was a lie as soon as she thought it. She would never regret this, even if it was possibly the most embarrassing moment of her life.
Jack wriggled and pulled out of Will, and hauled himself up to his knees. Will gaped at her, and Elizabeth couldn’t help looking down to see his cock.
He was still hard, glistening with the last bit of his release smeared around the wide head of his cock. Very wide head. The shaft looked almost slender compared to the head. Elizabeth couldn’t stop herself from licking her lips. What a beautiful cock, she thought. She loved the look of that head, imagined how it would feel.
James didn’t have a fat head on his cock. The head was barely distinguishable from the rest of it, not that she’d ever seen it in the stark sunlight like this. But from the times she’d grabbed it in the dark, she knew it rather tapered at the end. It was probably as wide as the head of Will’s cock in the shaft, fat all over it was, and when it got very hard it seemed as if it almost pained James. He wouldn’t let her anywhere near it, even if she wanted him to get hard, unless they were in the bedroom, under the covers, and ready to take care of it immediately.
But the shape of Will’s cock, it was lovely, she thought. And it would probably feel quite nice inside, like when her lover’s fingers curled and touched that spot inside her that made her shiver all over.
Jack grabbed the edge of the blanket and threw it across Will, hiding him from view. He didn’t bother to cover himself, so when he moved in front of Will to hide him further Elizabeth got a stunning view of Jack’s cock, also still hard, and very wet from the oil and his own saliva and seed, and jutting out from his body like an obscene, dripping sword.
Elizabeth could see Will’s chest now, as well. Dark hard nipples. She liked nipples, and his looked as if they would feel very nice under her fingers. Under her tongue even. Her boldness made her look up to Will’s face.
Will opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He was not the same Will Turner. He had the same features. His eyes were the same, the scruffy beard and the set of the jaw, but he was different. Even in the midst of his shock, she could see he wasn’t the same man.
That was fine, because she was certainly not the same woman.
“Well,” she said.
Jack opened his mouth, closed it. Fishlike. Elizabeth had never seen Jack Sparrow speechless. She decided she rather liked it.
Will was aghast, and Jack was as flustered as Elizabeth had ever seen him, and that was when Elizabeth realized that they were even more shocked and embarrassed than she was, so she’d best take advantage of that fact before their shock changed to anger.
“I’d suggest you clean up a bit,” she gestured vaguely in the direction of Jack’s shiny cock.
Will put an arm around Jack and thrust his hand in front of Jack’s cock. It wasn’t enough to entirely hide it, but it did make Jack whimper.
“And get dressed,” Elizabeth said in the most imperious tone she could manage. “There’s someone in the village I think you’ll want to meet.”
She turned and began to walk back down the beach, using every ounce of control she possessed to not look back.
Next: Part XI Jack and Will's Family
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