Pirates How To Handle A Sword

The day was hot and golden, and the waters around Port Royal reflected the sun, blinding anyone who stopped to look. Elizabeth found Will at the docks, dipping a bare foot into the sea.

"You promised me you'd teach me swordplay today, love," she said. Will did not answer immediately; he was watching, as he often did, the sky beyond the cliffs from which the Black Pearl had appeared three months ago. Elizabeth bent to murmur in his ear. "In case a terrible pirate crew returns, I must be able to defend myself, musn't I? Against all sorts of one-eyed, peg-legged, scarred, black-hearted--"

"Grey-hearted," Will said, still staring off over the ocean.

"Grey-hearted," Elizabeth amended with a smile, "pillaging plundering scalawags."

"An excellent point," he said.

"That's the idea," she replied.

He looked up at her, surprised, and laughed. Elizabeth helped him to his feet, and walked back over the planks with him to the shore.

Later

"If the enemy retreats, you advance," Will said. "But don't press--"

Elizabeth raised her sword below his chin.

"And don't let your guard down," he said. "Even if you think the other person is far below you in physical ability and skill, it's entirely possible that they're adept, lithe, and a quick learner, and then you'll just end up looking extremely foolish."

She kissed him.

Later

When it became too dark to see outside, Will moved their session into the blacksmith's shop. He lit the lantern and locked the doors.

"One, two, three, thrust, one, two, three, parry, one, two, three, thrust, and that's the way they do it with an English cannonade, hey!"

"Drinking songs suit you, dear," Will said, as if the idea still unsettled him. Elizabeth stopped jabbing at the King's portrait and smiled.

"Let's try it without safeties," she said, and took the button off the tip of her sword.

Will looked again at the locked doors, and nodded.

She came at him with a flash, before he'd hardly gotten the button off his own. He raised his rapier to block hers, and the two weapons clashed with a clang of metal. Elizabeth lifted her sword to try again, but as she did Will slid the tip of his weapon quickly along her waist and neatly sliced off her purse. It fell to the ground, softly clinking. She laughed, kicked it aside, and nearly took his ear off as she cut the shoulder from his doublet.

Now that injury was a real possibility, Will was careful to keep his blade away from Elizabeth's chest and head. She had no such hesitations, or wasn't practiced enough to be able to monitor herself. She flew back and forth, moving much more quickly than he could, waving her sword wildly but, still, awkwardly. In a fair fight--

Pirate

, he reminded himself. He could no longer rely on fair fights.

Elizabeth watched Will's expressions change as she kept him on the defensive. He was worried about her, worried about his clothing, and now, worried about himself. She was determined to keep him worried, at least until she could win. Just like a pirate would win, just like Jack would win.

She was too intent on his face to notice his footwork, slowly bringing him closer to her and her closer to the wall. Elizabeth turned to deliver a light blow on his forearm and nearly ran into a beam. Her sword was raised, but Will brought his own down, forcing its point to the ground. He closed the space between them with a step. Elizabeth felt his breath hot on her face, and knew that she was breathing heavily as well; her dress was tight.

"Surrender?" Will said.

"Never," she said, and dropped her sword. She grasped his collar and pulled him into a kiss, tasting the salty sweat that ran down his lip. He put his hands on her waist and lifted her against the wall, pinning her to him and holding her firmly. Elizabeth had forgotten how large his hands were, and how strong. He'd barely touched her in the months of their engagement; whether this was from a sense of propriety, or if Will was still mulling over everything that had changed since Jack Sparrow sailed into their lives, she didn't know.

Elizabeth was seized with the urge to do something entirely improper. Something, maybe, even piratical.

She ran her thumb along his collarbone, across his throat, and reached up to wrench his shirt open. The cotton tore in her fingers, threads coming loose. Will's blood beat golden below his skin. Elizabeth wrapped her legs around him, drawing his hips against hers.

Will surprised her by reaching for her skirts, holding her against the wall with a knee between her legs while he shifted the light summer silk out of the way. Her underskirt caught on his belt, and he ripped it free with a rough jerk. Elizabeth was thrilled; she had never seen Will so forward, so confident. She must be doing something right.

He was doing something right as well, as his hand found her sex and hovered briefly before dipping into it. She gasped and squirmed. His fingers were calloused and rough; Elizabeth gripped his shoulder and gently guided him.

Will's jaw was clenched, but he watched her face as she felt his hand brush her lightly and begin to trace circles.

"Will, darling," she said, unsteadily, "please--" She reached down with her other hand to fumble at his waist. His belt came loose in her hand. She could feel his prick beneath his breeches, and tugged them down. Will thrust into her hand, breathing quickly, and his fingers tightened around her. Elizabeth tilted her head, looking up at his face. Their eyes met.

"Are you ready?" he said, his hand still moving slightly against her sex. Elizabeth nodded. Will took his hand away, and she felt the slightest breath of air against her wetness before he moved his hips and the head of his prick touched her.

She leaned forward, so that her weight eased her down. Her back pressed against the stone wall, which was warming to her heated body. Will closed his eyes as she sank slowly onto him, and Elizabeth gritted her teeth against the pain. The first time was supposed to hurt, she'd heard it-- Will began to move, and she forgot it.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

"Yes," she said. As if she wanted to talk now. Elizabeth closed her eyes. She was feeling: stretched, and there was an intense pressure that was not very pleasant, but that gave way with a slip and a gasp to a filled hardness, much harder than she'd expected.

His hands moved down to her hips, curved around behind, and tightened, holding her steady. She rocked against him, or tried to; but Will held her in place while he thrust, his fingers burning her skin. She extended her hands. One tangled in his hair, the other met his lips and mouth. He sucked her fingers, his tongue and teeth grazing her gently. Elizabeth was hot and wet all over. She closed her eyes, and flew to the

Dauntless

, the cave on Isla de Muerta, Barbossa and Anamaria and Jack...

A fire built slowly in her, rising in her stomach until Will pressed himself against her, pushed her against the wall, and she began to shake apart, reaching out to pull him in for a fast kiss, a deep kiss, a needy kiss, a boiling-sea dead-or-alive kiss. He was hers and she was free to take him.

Will grunted while she shook, and she felt him move more quickly in her, groan while she shuddered, and fist his hands in her hair when she slid back against the cobbled wall, panting.

Elizabeth felt him still thrusting in her while her parts reconvened, her legs and hands and feet pulled back together to make a girl. Will buried his face in her neck, and in moments he was sticky between her thighs. He slumped against her, both of them breathing heavily. She lifted her hand to brush his hair out of his eyes and found his forehead slick with sweat.

She opened her eyes; the lantern was still burning. Will held her close against him. Their swords lay fallen on the ground behind him, glittering in the dim gold light like treasure.