"There are certain kinks I like about you, darlin', even admire. I must confess, however, that I'm a bit confused by this one."
Jack Sparrow stood next to a large mahogany wardrobe as a blue ladies' dress was unceremoniously flung at his face. He pulled apart a swath of fabric to peek through and winced as the sound of angry, though muffled, voices floated up from downstairs.
"Jack. We're in a brothel—"
"Traveller's lodging," he enunciated clearly, interrupting her, while shucking his leather sword belt down his hips. "Which, by the way, we are at due to your intrepid insistence."
"I was curious!" Elizabeth snapped, throwing a moth-eaten parasol at him. "The only way to hide you long enough to escape is to make you… blend in."
His companion continued her frantic searching through the prostitute's 'borrowed' wardrobe of the room they'd ducked into, hands flying and sifting. The irony of him in a dress and Elizabeth in breeches was not lost on Jack, and in fact, he rather appreciated it. Had the circumstances been different, he might even have engaged in a bit of indulgent gratification; however, necessity breeds opportunity no matter how odd, and he put their gender-swapping experiment out of his mind. At least for the time being.
Eventually, Elizabeth settled for a lonely crimson shawl with frayed, dangly fringes and held it out for him. "Put that on over your head and we'll go down the back."
"Sounds like fun," Jack quipped, tugging the ill-fitting dress over his clothed shoulders and fumbling with the back, while the voices downstairs grew louder. "A little assistance, Lizzie, if you please."
Elizabeth Swann smirked as she turned him round to fix his laces. She leaned forward, breathing in his ear, and Jack grinned when she swiftly jerked the garment closed none too gently. "If you're a good girl, Jacky, I'll tear this pretty frock off you later tonight."
Jack swallowed and turned about, nipping playfully at her lower lip. "Now is not the time to get me riled up, Elizabeth."
Outside the room, the sound of footsteps thundering up old, rickety stairs echoed down the corridor, signaling the end of their brief stay at Molly Flannagan's brothel. Er, tavern. Traveller's lodging.
"Sparrow, ya gutless scoundrel! Have a spine fer once and face me like a man!"
Elizabeth froze, eyes wide, staring at the closed door. Jack threw the shawl over his head and pointed to the wall behind her.
"That window opens tall, go."
Elizabeth nodded and turned to open it, then paused and furrowed her brows as Jack finished buckling his belt over the dress. "How would you know that?"
Jack rolled his eyes and grabbed her hand, pulling her forward. "This is not my first dance, Elizabeth; time is of the essence."
A tiny ledge outside the window ran the length of the building, and Jack carefully urged her forward. "Mind the drain, it's not sturdy a-tall," he groused and threw a hurt look at the aforementioned pipe that had once led him afoul.
"Jack," Elizabeth panted, carefully crawling along the ledge, gripping rough bricks that looked as if they could slip out of their mortar holdings at any moment, "do I want to know why you're familiar with the particulars of this building's masonry?"
He grinned and peered around her, eyeing a wooden staircase several feet away yet. "P'raps another time."
As they crept along, Jack found himself falling behind as his movements, greatly inhibited by the dress, slowed him down. The third time he slipped, he lost his temper briefly and swore. "How do women move in these things?"
They both looked up as the upper body of a red-faced man with an embarrassingly small, scantily (indigo?) feathered hat poked out from the room they'd lately vacated, and aimed a pistol in their direction. "Caught on a ledge, eh? Appropriate for a lice-infested, thrice-cursed bird a'prey!"
"How dare you!" Elizabeth wailed in absolute affront.
The man fired the pistol and Jack yelped as brick and mortar exploded near his head.
The man, who continued a string of slurred insults, hauled his considerable girth back inside to reload the pistol, giving Jack and Elizabeth time to scale the walls safely enough to reach the staircase.
The Captain once more grabbed Lizzie's hand and began leading her down two flights of stairs and back inside the so-called inn by means of an unlocked side door, which furthermore led to a dark, narrow staircase.
"Where is this?"
"Leads to the parlour. Quickly now."
In the dark, Elizabeth shook her head, but followed her paramour, tip-toeing down the stairs. Ahead, a flash of light shone through a musty, velvet curtain, and the sounds of drunken merriment and clinking glass could be heard from the parlour.
"Let me go first," Elizabeth whispered, pushing past him and peeking through the curtain.
Jack slid his hands around her waist and dropped a kiss at the base of her neck. "Always," he murmured seductively.
She tossed him a cheeky glance in the shadows and then slipped out through the hangings.
Jack waited anxiously in the dark, listening for a cue from Lizzie and musing over yet another odd predicament in which he'd inexplicably found himself. Really, he didn't even have to try to find trouble anymore. It simply followed him. Unconsciously, he let his hands slide down the voluminous, slick, silky fabric he was unexpectedly clad in, and a slow grin curved his lips.
"One day I shall write a book about all this," he whispered to himself.
Soon, Lizzie's hand slipped through the curtain for him. He took it once more and followed, ducking behind her back, checking to make sure his shawl was covering at least the majority of his signature locks, and holding a fold over his lower face. They picked their way through the crowd, and bent forward as he was, Jack quickly became aware of the fact that his oxygen supply was severely impeded. He pressed a hand to his chest and wheezed.
"Elizabeth!" he quietly hissed. "I shall never force you to wear one of these ever again."
"You never forced me to begin with," she replied calmly from the corner of her mouth, eyes scanning the mass of people before her.
Jack's eyebrow arched as a few vivid memories floated cheerfully to the surface that, really, he was quite fond of. "Perhaps, 'forced' was too strong a word. But, I promise I will think twice before requesting the use of that dress we keep in a wooden chest back at home." Home, of course, being the Pearl. They'd only been gone a night and already he missed Her so.
Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "No you won't."
The red-faced man, or, their would-be murderer, once again came thundering down the staircase, yelling a string of obscenities and generally raising all hell, at the other end of the parlour.
Jack pulled Elizabeth into a darkened niche beside a dusty bookshelf overflowing with tattered tomes and sheaves of torn parchments. Elizabeth briefly marveled at its existence in such a place while they waited to see what their aggressor was going to do. She pressed against Jack, back to the general crowd, and rested her forehead against his. Jack fluffed up his parasol and hid their faces.
"This is a bit awkward."
"Shh!" she hissed.
Elizabeth turned her chin and discreetly watched as their pursuer barked orders to two fellows who promptly dashed away outside. Then, he and another young man spread out and began searching amongst the teeming throng of malefactors that made up Molly's regulars. Or, essentially, a typical Tuesday night.
"They're going to find us!" she breathed, grabbing a fistful of Jack's borrowed gown anxiously. "Jack, what did you do to him?"
Jack blinked and searched for the appropriate memory, coming up with nothing and hitting his head as if hoping it would jar his brain loose. "I… I can't remember, I don't know!" he finished lamely.
Elizabeth sighed and kept kneading the material at his chest. "This is madness – oh!"
She squeaked in astonishment and spun around as a drunken man missing half of his teeth pulled his gropey hands away from her posterior and leered. "How much fer the each of yeh, luvs?"
She gaped at him and narrowed her eyes. "I beg your pardon!"
Jack, however, perked up at the man who was making kissing noises at them and slid an arm around Elizabeth's waist. He jerked her back against him and answered in a high-pitched voice meant to sound like a woman, "She's already taken, sailor." He spun Elizabeth around, mindful of the fabric draped over his head, and added in the same voice, "How 'bout a kiss, luvvy?"
She cocked her head in question a half-second before Jack's lips were at hers, and his hands were at her back and neck, pressing her against him. His tongue slipped into her mouth at her gasp of surprise, and when the men gathered nearby shouted with encouragement, Elizabeth, cottoning on, moaned an "Ohh!"
"Mm-hmm," Jack answered, letting the parasol slip from his grasp and continuing his passionate exploration. If he were honest, which he obviously always was, it would be a lie to say he wasn't more than a little excited about this new turn of events than he should be at the present moment. The fact that he got a chance to squeal and sigh and moan like any number of vocal, scarlet women he'd had the pleasure of company with (at this very brothel – tavern – even!) was simply a bonus. Also, if the blokes cheering and whistling around them were any indication, he was doing a good enough job of passing for a harlot, and their populated corner of degradation was getting quite the girly show! Jack was rather proud. It wasn't the first time he'd worn a dress, but it was certainly the first time he'd successfully passed as a lady.
He let a hand slide down to cup Elizabeth's ever- enticing backside and, to his slight horror, found himself responding in a most inopportune way, curse the goddamn restrictiveness of dresses! Best to slow down, mate.
Jack nibbled his way down past her jaw and lingered at her ear, taking a quick peek as the crowd of onlookers gathered more thickly, hopefully blocking from sight the man who was still possibly combing the place for them. He spotted a tell-tale indigo feather at the edge of the crowd, and realising that Elizabeth might be more noticeable in breeches, flipped her around, pressing her back against the wall to another raucous peal of approval.
"Oh, Jack…"— he bit her neck— "… quelyn! Jacquelyn!"
A man to the right whistled with glee. "Tha's righ', Jacquelyn, you show her wha'a bad gel she's been!"
Another round of cheers went up, and Jack and Lizzie turned it up a notch. If these soused miscreants held up, they'd block them entirely from the crazed man with a pistol who would, hopefully, ignore their bawdy display and leave to go hunt for them elsewhere.
"Do you like that, you naughty girl?" Elizabeth hissed, pulling Jack's lower lip with her teeth and reaching down to cup him between his legs.
The crowd of men, and even a few of the working gals, roared in response, urging, begging her onward with great enthusiasm.
Jack whimpered at her ear and buried his face at the delicious space where her shoulder met the lovely column of her neck. "So naughty!" he squeaked two octaves higher and helplessly thrust into her hand.
"So I see," she said loudly, eyelids heavy with desire, as she continued to pet him through the multiple layers of very tight fabric. She quickly dipped down and grabbed the hem of Jack's dress, and jerked the front up over his hips, while the back of the skirt mostly remained hanging down. His front was to her after all. She felt it worth the risk.
"Lizzie," he whispered nervously in her ear, flashing her a look of warning. Since fully embracing the Pirate Way, his Lizzie had discovered a previously unrealised and altogether wholly intriguing spark of exhibitionism. But honestly, there was a time and a place!
She grinned devilishly and quirked a brow. "Yes, Jacquelyn?"
"Go on then, give it to her!" shouted a thoroughly strained voice from the crowd.
"Yeah!" said everyone else.
"Shall I give it to her?" she whispered against his lips and grinding her pelvis against his suggestively.
"Ohh-OHHH," he shrieked a little too shrilly. "'Lizabeth, please," he pleaded in a whisper, torn. He was about to back away from her sinfully inviting hips, when he groaned as the feeling of warm fingers snuck inside the front of his breeches and gently took him in hand.
"Success, lads!" someone yelled the obvious pleasure of all.
Elizabeth bit her lip to keep from laughing aloud and Jack bit his to keep from crying out in a most unladylike fashion.
The crowd around pressed in against them, with a few even taking advantage of the situation to join in the public spectacle with each other. Elizabeth kissed Jack's ear and continued working him through his breeches, hidden from everyone but her in their dark little corner. Once again he leaned his forehead into the corner of her neck and sighed against her warm flesh.
"Jack," she whispered, and he could hear the smile (and tone of accomplishment) in her voice. "In public!"
He shook his head, thrusting in time to her fist. "We've… reached a new low, my love."
She giggled and kissed up his jaw back to his ear, earning another hiss of pleasure from him, and dared to peek out for their almost-assailant. She searched a good several moments, and at the sound of Jack's increasingly loud pants at her ear, tore her gaze from the mass of people before her and kissed a path back to his lips.
"I think he's gone."
"Lizzie." Jack groaned, gripping her hips roughly. "Finish this already," he bit out, staggering as a drunken reveler crashed into him from behind and attempted to cop a feel. He delivered an elbow straight into the man's gut, knocking him over to the delight of their audience.
"Give them a show, won't you?" she asked sweetly, obliging him by enthusiastically increasing her speed while nestled in her little protective corner.
Jack obliged, threw back his head and cried out in the worst sort of feminine-like shriek imaginable.
"Yes! Oh, god! Tha's it, darlin'!"
The crowd went wild and the air filled with the sound of whistles and catcalls. Elizabeth began visibly shaking with laughter.
Jack dipped forward, securing her lips with his as the first tingles of climax blessedly started building in his very toes and began working its way up to both heads.
"'Lizabeth," he panted against her lips, lights popping in his eyes, balls tightening, knees weakening, and the first waves of pleasure started rolling in like the best kind of furiously raging tempest in August, and shattered at her touch completely.
"That's right, my Jack."
His hips jerked uncontrollably, and he leaned his arms against the wall behind her head, not breaking contact with her lips, letting himself go, and trusting Elizabeth to keep him steady in her hands.
She gripped him gently, stroking lightly as he came down, occasionally twitching against her, and she whispered sweet endearments at his ear while straightening the crooked shawl over his head to keep his cover. He was beautiful when he came. Pity everyone missed it.
He leaned his weight against her, mindless of the leering horde, and caught his breath feeling utterly gutted at the intensity of what he'd just experienced. He graced her with a sleepy smile and blinked up at her in the most adorable sort of way, earning a kiss on the tip of his nose.
"Well, was it good fer ya, lass?" the same idiot who'd egged them on earlier called out.
"Aye!" Jack yelled, not bothering to hide the sudden baritone he felt compelled by a need to express.
Half the crowd went still and looked at each other in confusion.
Elizabeth wiped her hand against the ill-used shawl, and grabbed one of his with her other. "Let's go."
"Better words were ne'er spoken, love." He leaned in for a quick kiss and a meaningful gaze, and turned to face their adoring crowd.
Several gasped at Jack, who hadn't picked the shawl up to cover his face again, and realised that the lusty whore who'd just been brought to a shattering orgasm before their very eyes had a serious case of facial hair going on.
Jack put a hand upon his hip and affected affront. "What?" he shrieked in his terrible attempt at impersonating the female voice. "Do I offend?" He turned his nose up and stomped away, leading a madly cackling Lizzie behind him.
Once outside, Elizabeth leaned against him, still chortling, and linked her arm through his. Jack looked in each direction, and finding a clear coast, started down the mud and grime filled streets towards the harbor, and was certainly not bothered by the fact that he was still wearing the now-stolen dress in broad daylight. Not a minute away, however, he suddenly stopped and snapped his fingers.
"I've got it!" he called cheerfully to the air.
"He had a pair of pretty daughters that, if memory serves me right, I grossly misappropriated one evening after a few bottles of—"
Elizabeth glared up at him, eyes narrowed, and jerked her arm out of his. "Really, Jack?" she hissed.
He snapped his jaw shut and stared at her with fear. He loved her, but his Elizabeth could be powerfully frightening.
They stood in the middle of the street, and finally Jack relented, smiling bashfully and shrugging.
"You did ask, love," he offered sheepishly. "I simply didn't think it through when the answer hit me…"
He exhaled and wilted in defeat. "I honestly have no idea why I sai—"
The pirate winced and instantly spun about as if ready for any number of unknown enemies that could pounce out of any and every available doorway and corner. It was never a good thing to hear his name yelled aloud, and in so public a space, in this particular town. He owed a lot of people a lot of everythings.
He turned back to Elizabeth as Martin Willby started barreling down the thoroughfare and offered a truce.
"Elizabeth, I will make this up to you."
They started running down the lane towards the harbor where the Pearl was anchored, and Elizabeth shoved him angrily as they fled. "Yes you will. Many times. Tonight. Until I say stop."
A/N: Thanks to the great beta by lyn_f! This is the first time I've written Jack/Elizabeth, so I would greatly love your feedback on it. Thanks for reading! :)