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Author: Guede Mazaka
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Will Turner/Bartholomew Roberts/Robert Cochrane, Tom Blood/Woodes Rogers, Kitty/Anamaria/Elizabeth, Jack/Norrington
Feedback: Anything from spelling errors to concrit.
Disclaimer: Not mine, except for Lord Robert Cochrane.
Notes: AU history, supernatural stuff. Borrowing names of historical figures without accurately portraying them. Pretend Bartholomew Roberts looks like Ioan Gruffudd, Woodes Rogers like Christian Bale and Tom Blood like Joseph Fiennes. Robert Cochrane's an OMC that looks like Clive Owen. Kitty Cobham's from Horatio Hornblower.
Summary: The girls have a relaxing time while the boys endlessly complicate matters.
***
Elizabeth sprawled contentedly on the large bed, ankles hanging over the edge and face buried in the thick coverlet. She wriggled and moaned at how the silk of the blanket and the linen of her shirt felt against her skin. "Marvelous. Where on earth does Bart find his furnishings? He does better than even my father."
"He's a pirate," was Anamaria's caustic explanation. She was cautious as always, sitting gingerly on the edge to take off her boots before she ventured further into the middle. As she bent forward, her kerchief slipped and her long tail of hair slipped over her shoulder.
It was thick and glossy and Elizabeth loved playing with it, though she rarely had a chance to. Anamaria always kept it bound tight when she was on the Pearl and it generally took a hurricane to get her off the ship. So Elizabeth promptly reached for it.
However, she was intercepted by Kitty, who had been languidly leaning against the bedpost in the midst of a well-disguised fit of nerves. Elizabeth weighed her annoyance against her happiness that Kitty was making an attempt to be friendly with Anamaria, shrugged and sat back to watch.
"The salt's done awful things to your hair," Kitty murmured, spreading the tail across her palm.
Both Anamaria and Elizabeth stiffened; Kitty darted a look at them, but acted as if nothing was wrong. She suddenly bent and buried her nose in the thick tail before Anamaria could do more than sharply inhale.
"But it smells wonderfully." Without rising, Kitty smiled at Anamaria. The flesh around her mouth was relaxed, but her eyes were tense enough to make up for the difference.
Elizabeth sat up and regarded Anamaria's still face very carefully. If anything was going to happen, she would only have one chance.
And for a moment, it looked as if she'd have to take it. But then Anamaria rocked back on her hips, an intrigued twist to her mouth, and laughed. "Aye, good an' bad with the sea."
She casually scooted further on the bed and draped herself over Elizabeth, which prompted a startled jerk from Elizabeth. Anamaria drew a calming hand down Elizabeth's side, then looped it up to inspect Elizabeth's hair. "Damn me, it's looking like to be a burr-bush here, what with all the brine."
"Oh, dear." Kitty slipped onto the bed herself, displaying her plump cleavage to good advantage as she leaned over Elizabeth. She smelled faintly of rice powder and roses and sugarcane, and her scent swelled most deliciously as she settled beside Elizabeth. "I have a few little tricks in my toilette that might be able to do something."
"And so do I." A flash of possessiveness colored Anamaria's voice, and her grip on Elizabeth's shoulder momentarily tightened. But then she grinned and reached out to tug loose a tendril of Kitty's hair. "Wouldn't mind a little bit of trade-talk."
Elizabeth couldn't help feeling a bit smug. "So this is how Will does it."
"I'd wager how he does it is a sight more tricky than this," Anamaria snorted. One of her hands slipped down to rub circles over Elizabeth's buttock, and the other dropped to brazenly cup Kitty's breast. "Most women are sensible. Most men aren't. He is, which makes it all the harder for him."
* * *
After draining a good quarter of Will's mug, Tom snapped his fingers and pointed across the room. "A shilling that he throws that one over the bar, and tosses the red-haired one into the mud."
Will tried not to grind his teeth and stared hard at Rob, silently praying that the man would ignore the whores and pimps swarming around him and just come back with their drinks. They were already handicapped by how noticeable they were, and if they were going to overhear any useful information, they didn't need a fuss.
"Make it a guinea and I'll say he'd shove the red-haired one into the stool, backhand the scarred man through the door and skewer that one," Jack said from Will's other side. He made a great show of frowning and nodding, and even put up his hand to block out nonexistent light as he peered at Robert.
On second thought, if Rob didn't come back soon, it wasn't going to be his fault if they were thrown out. Some days Will wished he'd just tipped Jack over the side the last time he'd passed out on deck. And Tom and Jack got along far, far too well for anyone's tastes from Woodes to Norrington.
"No…oh, now." Feline smile on his face, Tom jerked his chin at the woman Rob had just insulted. "I think it might go to knives. Oh, sorry. Are we bothering you with this talk, Will?"
That was it. Will yanked his mug from Tom's hand and slammed it on the table, garnering the attention of the whole bar. Then he shoved up from his seat, grabbed a wide-eyed Tom by his shirt and took advantage of Tom's gaping mouth. He got back a good deal of his drink that way.
"Mmmph! Mmmph!" Tom squirmed and pushed at Will's shoulders, and as a familiar tread stalked towards their table, he grew more and more desperate.
"Ah, Will…" Jack started. Remarkably enough, he sounded nervous.
When the footsteps stopped, Will released Tom. He straightened up, looked calmly around the silent bar, and then took the mugs from a blazing-eyed Rob. "No killing. And get over here-I don't think Tom's washed his mouth since we fished him out of Tortuga."
"You could have simply called for my attention." Rob unslung his claymore from his back and waited for Tom to scramble out of the way, then sat down besides Will. He slouched so he could throw up a leg on the chair opposite, which had been where Tom had been heading.
The other man paused with one hand on the chair back. Then he raised his hands, smile straining his face with its desire to be harmless, and quickly beat a retreat to Jack's side. While Rob didn't quite show an expression, his perpetual air of deep self-satisfaction thickened. He rested his sword on the wall beside him and leaned his head against the wall, eyes half-closed and throat arrogantly unprotected.
Jack coughed into his hand, which sounded suspiciously like a French joke about swords and swords. Will elbowed him hard and shoved a mug at him before he could say anything else. "Obviously, but if I did that I knew you'd listen. Speaking of, anything useful at the bar?"
"No, unsurprisingly. They know who we are, and they're too far from our headquarters to risk offending Blackbeard." Dainty as a cat, Rob dipped a finger into his mug. He licked at it, grimaced, and pushed it away. His knee bumped into Will's beneath the table. "I thought we were leaving the intelligence-gathering up to Woodes' men. This are his waters."
Oh, very subtle. And, irritatingly enough, effective. Clearly, Will's prick didn't care if it was surrendering too easily. It only gave an interested twitch against Will's leg and left Will to debate the merits of giving in so soon.
"Point there, Will. Stop fretting 'bout what you're not doing." For once, Jack, was ignoring the mugs in favor of looking at the door. No one was there as far as Will could see, but Jack made a small gesture with his hand so someone must have been watching.
Then again, it more or less was the only way to keep Rob under control if Will didn't want anyone to die. He sighed and slipped his hand between Rob's legs; Rob slumped a little farther beneath the table and stared dazedly at the ceiling.
It was noisy in the tavern, but for the briefest moment, Will heard a high, clear female voice singing…a Catholic Mass? It sounded like Latin, at any rate, and Jack seemed to hear it as well for he subtly came to attention, his former dazed behavior melting away. He drained his mug and set it down with the kind of steadiness that usually men saved for lighting the last fuse.
Rob and Tom noticed, though they apparently hadn't heard. Tom started to speak, but Jack efficiently cut him off by dragging them both to their feet. "Well, that's it. Will, you can see to the other matter, an' I'll see you back at the Pearl. Now, Mr. Blood, here's your first lesson in acquirin' supplies…"
Will was already nodding before Jack had finished; this was routine for them. He waited to a thirty-count before he got up and led Rob out the back door.
"So if we weren't needed, then why…?" Rob was saying.
"We were, actually. If it was only the Pearl in port, Jack or I or Anamaria could've done it without that, but there's Woodes' ship as well, and your men." The alley was predictably crooked and half-filled with debris that teetered on the verge of burying anyone who ventured past it. It was a delicate task to pick through it till they came to a somewhat clearer spot where a stone building and a wooden one met. The stone wall jutted out to create the alcove into which Will drew them. "So we were showing them that you were with us, and not the other way-Rob, what on earth-Rob!"
Rob was already on his knees and nosing quite pointedly at the join of Will's legs. The fabric of Will's trousers was coarse-woven and thick but Rob's breath traveled straight through and flushed the blood into Will's prick. His fingers slid teasingly along it and his thumb settled on the tip, pressing so Will's head hit the wall. Stars danced.
When they stopped, Will was grabbing onto…it was slimy so he didn't look. His back desperately needed the support of the wall, and his prick was slipping between Rob's lips. Will swore. The head of his cock bumped into the back of Robert's mouth; Rob gagged a little before abruptly swallowing it, hard and messy and there went Will's knees. His feet skidded a handspan before he got his heels dug in again. Then Rob pulled back, wriggling his tongue against the underside of Will's prick as he went, dragging it from base to head and when he reached that, he licked across the slit.
Will swore again. His right hand snapped from the wall and he tasted fire in his mouth. For a moment, he hung in space, anchored only by the pressure of the ground against his feet and the hot, perfect fit of Rob's mouth sheathing his prick. Then he fell, hand scrabbling a last-moment hold in Rob's hair.
He ran his tongue over his lips, breathing but not feeling as if any air was going into his lungs. Before him, Rob was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. The man tidied Will up and then got to his feet, all the while humming an obscene little ditty from Barbados.
"Why…why did you do that?" Will finally asked. Christ. Bart tended to excess when he was attempting to make amends, but this was a little much even for him.
Rob blinked, oddly innocent in his surprise. "Because I wanted to."
It was very, very close whether Will's knees were going to go again, but in the end he managed to pull himself together. He even gave himself a smack on the head for thinking such a thing; he'd really been away too long.
Then he did what he should have done in the first place and hooked his arm around Rob's neck. There wasn't the slightest hesitation before Rob bent and contentedly let Will take his mouth, and soon they'd twisted themselves around so Rob was moaning helplessly against the wall.
* * *
Kitty looped her arms over her head and stared at the intricate tapestry hooding the bed and thought that this was a far, far better berth than posing by some lord's side. She really should have made her way to the colonies much earlier than this.
The fingers unlacing her corset unexpectedly parted to let a tongue delicately lap at her nipple. Startled, she shivered and gasped.
"So what was your trade in England?" Anamaria asked, continuing on to nibble the sensitive aureole. She grinned at Kitty's trembling, then tousled the hand she had in Elizabeth's hair. Slow as honey, she traced the line of Elizabeth's nape, flipping her hand midway so it was her knuckles that dragged along Elizabeth's back.
Elizabeth arched, rubbed her face against the flesh that was slowly being bared as she pulled away Kitty's corset. Her trousers had long since found their way to the floor and now her shirt flowed loosely and intriguingly over her body, the thin fabric made transparent by her sweat. It rumpled from one lovely shoulder that Kitty just had to kiss even though that removed Anamaria's mouth from her breast; practical woman that she was, Anamaria simply moved behind and started on removing the rest of the pins from Kitty's hair.
"An actress. Still a relatively new profession for women, so I had the freedom to make some rules as I went. I never was a mistress before I decided to go overseas. Then I thought it prudent to trade for some protection." Kitty listened for Anamaria's reaction, and as she'd expected, she received a thoughtful hum. Anamaria's hands dropped to Kitty's waist, then slid round to hike up Kitty's undergarments. "Oh! You do move quickly."
"Aye, she does." Elizabeth rolled across Kitty's legs, rounding of her hips and breasts and curve of her waist pushing against her shirt in tantalizing glimpses. She straddled Kitty and started to pull off her shirt, and of course Kitty had to help. Her hands lingered on Elizabeth's breasts while the other woman laughed and ripped off her shirt. Then she was nuzzling forward to steal citrus kisses, her thighs parting so Kitty could catch peeks at the thick dark gold hair between her legs. "So, you're here to advise on the Spanish."
Kitty shrugged with as much dignity as she could manage, given that Anamaria was mapping a warm, moist trail from one shoulderblade to another and that there were at least three hands running slowly along the inside of her thighs. She jumped when a fingertip strayed across that pointed fold at the top of her cunt. "I am qualified to do that. As much as anyone can be when it takes several months to cross the Atlantic."
Anamaria nipped at Kitty's shoulder, and when Kitty turned to speak to her, pushed her rough, warm fingers up against Kitty's cunt till the tips of two slid inside. At the same time, Elizabeth laid herself flush against Kitty and rubbed like a cat. "Well, s'pose you'd at least know of some of the leaders," Anamaria murmured. "But Spanish here and Spanish in Madrid's a bit different."
"Yes. I've…noticed some…bizarre happenings…of nature and God, that's wonderful." Kitty couldn't help inhaling sharply when Anamaria pushed in her fingers to the knuckles, and she only exhaled when Anamaria slowly, so very slowly, slid them out.
"You'll see more." Elizabeth's voice was unexpectedly dark and resigned, but when Kitty pulled up her chin, the other woman was nothing but smiling. She shrugged, twisted as Kitty worked her hands deeper between her legs. "Does that bother you?"
Kitty considered the question while Anamaria moved her fingers in and out of her, skillfully increasing the speed so that Kitty almost didn't notice her breath coming short. Her skin seemed to be shrinking and melting at the same time so when Elizabeth licked along her neck, it was almost painfully sensitive. Then Elizabeth and Anamaria were kissing over Kitty's shoulder, and Kitty was buried in the scent of healthy, lusty woman, and no, it didn't really bother her. "I suppose I'll learn to live with it."
"Oh, good. Because I do like you very-" kiss "-very-" nip "-much." Wanton as a mermaid, Elizabeth threw back her head and shamelessly rode Kitty's fingers. She was one of the most beautiful things Kitty had ever seen, golden and wild and intoxicating.
Anamaria laughed, as if she knew exactly what Kitty was thinking, and laid her head against Kitty's shoulder. "Welcome to the Caribbean."
* * *
Tom squatted down besides Jack, hoping that he was dreaming and that he'd wake up soon. He pinched himself.
"Don't matter how many times you do that, you're still awake. An' even if you weren't, you'd still have to put your hand to this. Can't learn how to raise storms if you don't learn the tools of the trade." Jack Sparrow nodded to the tradesman who backed off a few paces, then stretched out a hand. He snatched randomly from the small pile of…of…dead dried things. And then he gestured as if Tom was also supposed to grab one.
Well, it wasn't quite the most disgusting thing he'd ever done. Nevertheless Tom had a devil of a time not closing his eyes as he picked up the least identifiable one between his forefinger and thumb.
The other man grimaced. "That's a ruined one. See how there's no flaps left on the wings?"
"Oh. Right." Tom flicked it back and…picked up another one. God, wasn't this what servants were for?
Apparently his thoughts were on his face, for Jack chuckled and slapped him on the shoulder. Then the other man drew out a dagger and began to point out bits of the…bat with the tip. "This you use for delayin' fogs, and this you use for bringin' on the dark early. But no more than half an hour, mind, or else you're riskin' a deep sleep for the next week. An' you have to do it yourself or else-"
"Yes, yes, I know. Never trust anyone else's workings if you can help it." The place on Tom's thigh where the bracelet had rested warmed a little in reminder. As it turned out, if he had disobeyed, that thing would've sunk fangs into his leg and poisoned him. A really lovely trade, it was. "Woodes hasn't left me completely in the dark."
"I'd wager it's still not so bright, given that you chased after us." Jack's eyes were knowing and mocking as they rested on Tom. Then they bent to the pile before them. "This one's good, and I'll need these two…"
Flushing, Tom bit on his lip and fought down the urge to look defensively about. Instead he rolled his shoulders, loose and relaxed as Jack, and started choosing his own supplies. He supposed Woodes' sort of icy disapproval was fairly obvious, so he could hardly blame Jack for commenting on it.
"You find 'em good, m'sieurs?" said the trader. He dropped a wink and put his palms against the ground. "Eight doubloons for 'em, an' that's killing me poor five bébés."
Ah, now for bargaining Tom didn't have to rely on anyone's guidance. "You've gone touched in the head from the sun. Eight doubloons could feed a nation down here, plus buy these shriveled third-rate flying rats."
Then they were off in a spirited negotiation that drew appreciative catcalls and laughs from the rest of the marketplace; Tom did have a flair for this sort of thing, if he said so himself. Occasionally Jack would throw in a word when Tom's knowledge was about to come up lacking, but mostly he stayed out of it, a small half-smile on his face.
When they'd done and paid, he bundled up their purchases in oversized bandanas while Tom painfully got up. The blood rushed into Tom's legs and left his head dizzy while the soles of his feet moaned. They were healed, but still tender.
"All right, there?" Jack inquired. He handed Tom his package before swaying a way through the bustling crowd.
"Never better." As long as they were heading back to the boat. They'd been shopping for hours now and Tom needed a rest. "Jack? Pardon my curiosity, but is there any significance to the black pearl in Norrington's ear? Or the ring in Lord Robert's?"
Jack didn't precisely stumble, but his stride did change. He slowed down and drew Tom closer to him, lowering his voice. "Aye, and you'd best ask that sort of thing in private in the future." Then his eyes flicked shrewdly up Tom's face. "Did Woodes offer you one?"
"No," Tom said shortly. He tugged at his coat, flapping its hem to let some air circulate beneath the heavy fabric. "Was he supposed to?"
"Only if his and your pact is going to be for the long day in the horizon. It's a pledge of kinds." Jack slipped his hand from Tom's arm to make vaguely meaningful gestures in the air.
Not that he needed to, as Tom could more or less gather the rest of how he'd seen Will and Rob and Bart act around each other. He was rather relieved, actually-he liked Woodes well enough, but the man still made him nervous at least once a day, and he certainly wasn't ready to give up his escape routes.
Speaking of…Tom ambled along with Jack down the street, enjoying the color and the raucousness, and when they reached the next alley, he yanked them in with a little bit of frisson in his nerves. "Jack, I just saw a rather bedragged scoundrel in an orange coat-no, the one with the club for a left hand. He's got the sword of one of Cochrane's men."
"You sure of that?" Jack hissed, reaching for his sword.
Tom made a face. "I'm a thief, damn it! Of course I'm sure. I was going to swipe that one-gorgeous hilt."
A hint of appreciation touched the corner of Jack's mouth, but only for a moment. Then he was melting into the shadows with a grace that Tom both admired and took furious notes on. "Right, then. Believe we'll need a little talk with him."
* * *
Elizabeth stopped licking at Anamaria's sweet cunt to pull a hair from between her teeth. She poked at Kitty's nose with it, then dodged swiftly away when Kitty attempted to retaliate. Though she allowed herself to be caught a moment later for a long, deep kiss. She purred and alternately nuzzled Kitty's face and Anamaria's lean thigh, working her way back.
"Damn it, girl…" But Anamaria's voice was slurred and carried no heat. Her body was flung backward on the bed, hands slowly kneading the blankets. "Tease."
"Tease?" Elizabeth scoffed. "Hardly, compared to some of the others."
Kitty nibbled at Elizabeth's throat and rolled her hips against Elizabeth's knee. She was still quite boneless from earlier and it was an odd but pleasing sensation to feel the pressure against her clit, which was still slightly swollen and aching. "Like Thomas Blood?"
"Oh, he's running Woodes a merry chase. I like watching those two." A hand ran down Kitty's side and then inwards to run fingers through her hair, grazing her clit. The laziest smile possible lounged on Elizabeth's face. "Now that his feet are healed, Woodes can't keep him put with stupid things like ropes and chains. It's amusing to watch Rogers figure out what really matters."
"I'd not be saying ropes are stupid, Liza." Anamaria levered herself up and plucked Elizabeth's other hand from her belly, ringing it with her fingers. She squeezed the wrist as she looked at Elizabeth with enough heat to set a fleet afire.
Elizabeth's eyes went dark and ravenous, and her lips parted a little. Then she smiled again and ducked down to put her mouth against Anamaria's cunt; Anamaria fell back with a wild laugh that belonged to an Amazon.
"What about Robert Coc-" Kitty started to say, but she was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Yes?"
"Is the Duchess of Wharfedale preoccupied?" called a highly-amused Bartholomew.
A snort and a rude gesture was Anamaria's first response. Her second was to lean up on an elbow and press Elizabeth's head farther between her legs. "Go on, Bart. What do you want?"
"Many apologies, Anamaria, and I presume Elizabeth as well, but I need a consultation. I'd be happy to come in-" Anamaria growled "-or stay outside, but it's a bit urgent."
"Well, I suppose I need to earn my keep, or else I'd never be able to sleep soundly at night." Kitty ignored how Elizabeth's shoulders shook with giggles at that, and how Anamaria's muttered curses dropped off into deep groans. She sat up and reflexively drew a fold of the sheets around herself; Anamaria tried to pull it off and Kitty batted away her hand. "Spanish?"
"I've had news from a José Gaspar-"
Well, one crossed paths in the oddest places. "Oh, I remember him. Quite dashing, but no sense of shame at all. He nearly was run out of court at a pike's end for impudence."
Bart's laughter carried clearly through the door as he dragged about a chair. "I must remember to ask about him later. But he's of minor importance right now-he's brought news of who the new Spanish Admiral is in the Caribbean. Incidentally, Kitty-do you know much about the Inquisition?"
"He means do you believe in sorcery?" Elizabeth whispered.
Kitty found herself curling her nails into the bed. She spoke with what she thought was commendable poise. "I did notice a certain supernatural element in the storm that drove us to the Carolinas, which is not easily explained away."
"Would it happen to be named Blackbeard?" Bart asked. He paused, then went on in a more serious tone. "Ah. I see. The Carolinas are his home waters, but lately he's been moving southwards. But I digress-we do need to see to him, but only if we can be sure that the Spanish won't intercept us coming or going, as they lie between here and him."
Elizabeth curled around Kitty, but the most surprising and comforting gesture came from Anamaria, who gave Kitty's wrist a quick squeeze. A little steadier, Kitty absently ran her fingertips over Anamaria's breast while she thought. "I see. Well, my knowledge of the Spanish court is a few months old, but I'd wager it would do. Who is it?"
"Pedro de Ulloa. Never heard of him before. Colonel Blood and Rob say the family name's familiar, but couldn't remember anything current."
"Oh…yes, Ulloa. His family's been involved with affairs in the New World on and off over the years; a relation of his fought the Aztecs and charted parts of Baja California under Cortés. Lately they've not done anything notable, but if I'm remembering the right man, Pedro is bent on changing that." Something tickled Kitty's leg: Elizabeth moving back to attend to Anamaria, who moaned and writhed. Kitty raised her voice to compensate. "A very well-educated but narrow-minded man. Justifies anything as being for the greater glory of Spain and God. I never had much congress with him since he seemed to dislike the company of women, but he's far more apt at politics than he seems.'
Bart started to ask another question, but right then Anamaria whipped against the bed and cried out so loudly that conversation was impossible. At first Kitty grinned, but as the other woman continued to grind her hips into the bed and keen, Kitty's eyebrow rose till it veritably reached her hairline.
Eventually Anamaria's climax ran its course and she slumped against the mattress, hands flopping aside to let Elizabeth raise her head. The other woman was positively glowing with complacency as she licked her lips. "Merits of living an active life. Rosewater-and-powder ladies do not last particularly long in these parts."
"The advice is appreciated," Bartholomew called. "Now, Ulloa? What about his military skills? Any idea as to what his favored tactics are?"
"There I'm afraid I can't help you. He was a singularly close-mouthed man. He did, however, have a terrific dread of storms. Rumor had it that he and a favorite cousin were caught in one while sailing, and the cousin drowned." Kitty reached out and playfully swiped the ball of her thumb over Elizabeth's mouth, then sucked it into her own mouth. She promptly received an armful of enthusiastic woman.
"Storms…there's an idea…Kitty, would you say that-Kitty? Oh, for…women. I thought you were the more patient sex."
Anamaria made a rude gesture at the door. "An' I thought you were an intelligent man. Keep your sails furled for a few minutes, an' she'll be with you presently."
"Anyway, he's probably about to set off his cannon just by listening," Elizabeth said with a wicked smile.
Kitty gave her a reproving tap on the head, then giggled as Elizabeth tickled her tongue against Kitty's nipple. "Now, that is abusing the concept of the metaphor. I suggest you make amends."
"I'll be waiting in the tea-room in that case. When you-"
The temperature of the room seemed to drop. At first Kitty thought she was imagining it, but then she noticed how stiff Elizabeth had gone besides her, and how Anamaria was crouched on the bed like a tiger. Out in the hall, Bart took one step that echoed weirdly in the sudden silence. Kitty held her breath.
* * *
Disappointingly, Woodes Rogers had returned early to the ships, and so Will and Robert had to stop to talk with him. Will muttered under his breath about Jack and rum and lateness, handed the large number of bundles he'd acquired to Robert, and strode forward with about as pleasant an expression as could be expected.
Of course Robert wasn't about to leave him, so he handed the parcels to one of his men and told him to stow it in Will's cabin. Then he sauntered forward to take up a position slightly behind and to Will's left, since Woodes was right-handed. Woodes favored him with a cool look that implied nasty things about Robert's parentage; Robert took his sword off his back and calmly examined the edge. He needed to get it sharpened soon.
Will seemed about to say something to Robert, but in the end he decided against it and only looked annoyed. "So?"
"Blackbeard's right about where we expected him. Rumor is that he's planning to raid along Florida's coast in a few weeks. St. Augustine was mentioned." Though he wasn't a nervous man, Woodes continually shifted his eyes from Will to the busy taverns along the shore. He was dressed in shades of brown with the most color being the five rings on his left hand, and so he looked something like a piece of testy driftwood. "Where's Tom?"
Robert didn't bother hiding his amused smile, though for Will's sake he looked at the sea instead of at Woodes. A man was tragic if he developed a hopeless dependency on someone else, but he was simply pathetic when he pretended to deny it.
"He went with Jack. Who's probably picking up a few things for Norrington, since he's having to patrol farther and farther," Will pointedly said. "The Spanish are actually starting to win some good captains over to their side. Did you hear anything about that?"
Woodes shrugged and rather rudely turned to look at the rigging of his sail. "A little. Three ships, I don't know for certain whose yet, are planning to raid along Barbados. If Norrington's busy, I can see to that. And there's a rumor that Gaspar's been nosing near the Bahamas. Or is he still making his deal with Bart?"
"He brought in his first Spanish prize as a British privateer while you were still dithering," Robert said. He earned a glare from Will for it, but it was well worth it to see Woodes' hackles rise. "He makes a run in whenever he has news. Usually that's once or twice every fortnight."
The veiled jab at the pitiful amount of help Woodes had provided struck deep. His jaw tightened and his eyes grew colder than winter in the Scottish highlands. "Doesn't surprise me. He has quite a few debts left to settle from when he was part of the Spanish navy."
Which of course implied that Gaspar was using Bart to his own ends. Rob stopped running his fingers over the edge of his sword and tilted it till it was almost in fighting stance. "Well, revenge is a more forgivable emotion than a womanish petty jealousy."
"God damn it," Will suddenly snapped, hand jerking into a fist against his thigh. The wind whooshed up between Rogers and Robert into a temporary wall, then died away; Robert belatedly remembered that they were far enough into the backwoods for there to be almost no limit on the power on which Will could draw.
And, as Will was clearly having a hard time not pointing out, what he could do with that was more than Robert could, and arguably more than Woodes could. After all, Woodes didn't need to hang onto Tom Blood for mere pleasure.
"Rogers, I remind you that one, Colonel Blood is now completely in control of making decisions about his life, and two, your pardon and letter of marque are contingent on you making a significant contribution to this campaign. Otherwise you'll revert to pirate status, and I have to say, Commodore Norrington would be more than happy to see that happen." Will spun on his heel, angry enough to forget himself and make the air crackle with ozone as he did. He cursed and stopped that as he seized Robert by the arm, dragging him back towards the Pearl. "Rob, damn it, can you not provoke every damned person you meet?"
"I thought I was behaving quite well. He didn't draw on me." Robert pulled away his arm and crossed behind Will to the man's other side, where he was less likely to be run off the edge of the pier. He looked down the dock and saw one of his lieutenants and the man's sergeant approaching at a rapid pace, clearly big with news, so he waved for them to join him and Will in a small niche formed by the gangplank and a stack of crates.
Frustration kept Will's head down and his teeth grinding, and so he missed the exchange. As soon as Robert slowed, Will was whirling about to hiss angrily at him. "Don't be a God damn joker, Rob. Gaspar is a lone dog-always was. He doesn't care if he turns his back on old comrades. Woodes used to act like a de facto governor-for all I know, he still does. We wanted him because of that. He's got to be careful in the beginning or he'll lose his connections."
"And we should be careful or he'll have us shielding him while he sticks daggers in our backs. I'm not a political dunce, Will. Rogers still has a grudge towards Bart because of that idiotic ploy with Blood and the bracelet." Lieutenant Macrae was nearly to them, so Robert stepped out to greet the man. He frowned, staring at the odd fixed look in Macrae's eyes and the awkward, loping way that the man walked. "You derelict son of a poxed whore, are you drunk?"
"What?" Will turned around. Then he swore and cannoned into Robert, nearly knocking them off the pier.
Somewhere behind them, Woodes was shouting, but Robert was somewhat too busy to listen as Macrae had drawn on him. Fortunately, he still had his sword out and he managed to parry the blow. Then he shoved Macrae back and gave the bastard a slash across the sword-arm and chest.
The blood that welled out was a foul, reeking black instead of the bright ruby that it should have been. And instead of slowing Macrae down, it seemed to spur him on, for he came after Robert like a berserker, howling incoherently and raining down blows that even Robert was hard-put to meet. Certainly Macrae hadn't been nearly this skilled before.
"Go for the head!" Woodes yelled.
"Do as he says!" Will rasped.
Robert spared a glance at Will to see that he'd been attacked by Macrae's sergeant, who had the same glassy look and insane strength and-and a gaping wound in his back that should've been fatal.
The moment's distraction almost was fatal to Robert as it let a strike get past his guard. He spun forward, narrowly avoiding Macrae's sword-tip, and went on to slam his shoulder into Macrae's chest. They both broke apart and Robert took one panting breath before his left arm howled with pain. He battered down Macrae's next blow and attempted to look at himself without actually taking his eyes from his opponent.
The poxed son of a whore had stuck a dirk in his arm. The next time Robert tried to block a blow, the jarring force of it nearly blinded him. Lights whirled, hot wetness burned from his arm into the very forefront of his attention, blurring out everything else, and the ground tilted crazily beneath Robert's feet. It was infuriating.
Spinning away, he ripped the dirk from his arm with a snarl. Then he came back at Macrae, ducking beneath the other man's high swing, and stabbed him in the eye with the dirk. Macrae staggered but failed to go down, which did nothing for Robert's temper. He beat aside Macrae's sword-it snapped, he absently noted-and ripped his sword through the other man's neck. Macrae's head went soaring into the ocean, and the rest of him crumpled to soil Robert's boots. He had the same kind of wound that the sergeant had on his back.
"Bastard," Robert muttered. He swung around only to find Will kneeling over the body of the sergeant, whose skull appeared to have been shattered by a bullet. Robert turned about to look at the Pearl's decks; its crew and most of his men were gathered on the sides with rifles. One marine briefly held up his sword, then saluted.
"Double rum ration for him. Damned fine shot," Robert called to his other lieutenant. "I want a headcount of everyone else. Anyone's missing is to be stopped at a hundred yards from the ship till it's clear they're…sane."
The man snapped off a stiff salute. "Sir? Would you be wanting O'Malley to see to your arm?"
"Why? Have I fainted yet? Get me that count, damn you!" There was a ridiculous amount of blood, but a bit of poking showed Robert that it'd gone cleanly through the muscle and wasn't terribly serious. He twisted up his sleeve around it and stepped over to Will, who'd flipped over the sergeant's body to look at the wound.
It was a good few hours old, and seemed to have been painted or stuffed with a foul, lumpy concoction of stinking oil and dried herbs and God knew what else. Will bent down to sniff along it, which made Robert's respect for him increase a hundredfold. Then he shot to his feet and whipped around to point his sword at Woodes' throat.
The clack of a flint was such a small sound to make men stop in their tracks, but that was exactly what everyone did. It cut through the chaos of the dock and left all other sounds to subside into hurt silence.
Robert looked up at the Duke's railing and met the eyes of William Dampier, who was holding the cocked rifle. Woodes' navigator was aiming for Will's head, while the rest of Woodes' crew was as tense as Robert's and Sparrow's men were.
"Just so you know," Robert casually said, "I can throw this sword faster than Dampier can reload."
Woodes worked his mouth in irritation, but ultimately ignored Robert in favor of Will. "Turner. I thought you were the sensible one."
"I am the sensible one. Which is why I know that even if these zombies weren't done by you, they're still your fault. We only arrived today. For someone to kill and raise a zombie in a couple hours…well, that is not the kind of preparation, or power, that should escape your attention." Will's hands didn't move in the least, but nevertheless the air began to taste acrid. It prickled uneasily on the skin and smelled of faintly of blood.
They eyed each other, clang of blades in their stares. Then Woodes blinked.
He took a slow step backward, glacial manner cracking to show a man that was utterly furious. But not at Will, Robert was pleased to see. No, he looked worried about Will. "No, it isn't. God damn them, this is the heart of my-I will rip their flesh from their bones, I promise you."
"No, I'm thinking what's fair here is you giving up first claim to Lord Robert." Jack sashayed down the dock in blatant disregard of the tension gripping everyone else. Behind him trailed an anxious-looking Tom, who'd gained a black eye and a bloodied coat sometime during the day.
Woodes' eyes immediately flicked to Tom and his hand rose slightly towards the other man, who hung back with raised eyebrows. That didn't make Rogers happy, but he swallowed it and turned to Jack.
"Put down the sword, Will. It's not entirely his fault," Jack murmured as he passed Will and Robert. One of his hands was coated in drying blood, and the look he and Will shared was darkly understanding. "Go get yours stitched up. I'll see to the terms."
Will snorted but lowered his sword, moving back towards Robert. He touched at Robert's arm as gently as he could, but it felt like he'd just dropped an iron bar on it. Robert couldn't help but stagger a little, and then Will had his hand beneath his arm and was hustling him up the gangplank. "Will, if I was going to die there'd be more corpses on the ground. I just lost men and I'd like to know why-"
"So I'll sew you up in the captain's cabin where you can hear, all right? See, Jack's bringing Tom and Woodes up after us," Will snapped. He turned to point, and like an idiot, Robert also turned.
Damn him, Will had a quick punch.
* * *
"That bastard!" Bartholomew was shouting. There was a terrific bang as he kicked or threw something at the wall, and then he stomped off down the hall. He was still cursing, but in Welsh. The sound of it would have been beautiful if his tone hadn't been so harsh.
Elizabeth was already off the bed and throwing on someone's shirt. Kitty would have joined her, but Anamaria held her back. "It's all right, no one that shouldn't be is dead."
"What-who-" Deep breath. Thoughts collected, Kitty tried again. "Are you saying that you can tell what's going on with…with…"
"Will for Elizabeth and Bart, Jack for me, and then there's a little bit of Tom Blood and Woodes Rogers, but not so much since we've got no natural reason to be close." Anamaria leaned over the bed and fished up their clothes, then started sorting them out. "Damn. I was hopin' for a full night, but seems we're back to business."
Yes, it did seem so. Kitty took her share of clothing, then stole Anamaria's hand while she was at it. She used it to tug Anamaria into a short, sharp kiss. "Then I suppose we'll have to dress. Care to explain a little more to me?"
"I could. Lord knows nobody else is goin' to have the time for it," Anamaria said.
* * *
Robert wasn't happy about being knocked out, but since Will had done as promised, he couldn't complain too much or he'd miss part of Jack and Woodes' talk. What little he could manage was easily stifled by leaning hard against him and stabbing a needle at his arm.
"So the final terms, if I've got it right, are these," Dampier was saying. "Woodes to turn over all prisoners connected to today's attack to Lord Robert, Sparrow to lend a hand in setting Woodes' waters straight without taking any opportunity for personal gain. Woodes also to participate in the campaign against Edward Teach with a fifteenth share instead of a quarter, as compensation for the injuries and deaths incurred today. In return, no other punishment to be meted out for this unfortunate incident."
Perched in a corner, Tom was having trouble not sniggering. He ducked his head and was very intent on folding up the damp rag he'd been given to hold against his eye.
Rogers quickly assented, but Jack held back. He looked over his shoulder at Will-no, not Will, but Rob. "Well, m'lord?"
The gaze Rob turned on Woodes was coolly promising, but he answered in a neutral enough tone. "On behalf of Governor Roberts, I accept those terms."
"Then it's an accord." Jack stuck out his hand.
Woodes slowly took it and they each gave the other a firm shake. Then Jack turned as if to see Rogers, Tom and Dampier out, but he paused with eyes slantwise on Rogers.
"Woodes, I never had good cause to quarrel with you before. Don't give me one. Savvy?" Jack spoke in a low voice, but he gave his words the quality of steel.
The other man didn't make the mistake of laughing at him, though Dampier was clearly inclined to do so. The amusement in Tom's face also died, which was interesting for such a lightweight-seeming man.
"Aye," Woodes said. Then he strode out the door like he thought he was sweeping storms behind himself.
Rob quietly snorted. Then he hissed as Will tied off the last knot. When Will made to wipe the dried blood from him, he snatched the rag away and attended to it himself.
"Well, that's hopefully an end to bad tidings," Jack muttered. He stood meditating a moment longer, then looked at Will. "A half-hour to take out the ship, wouldn't you say?"
"Only if the one doing it was a half-witted-oh." Damn. Will flushed, reminded himself that he was an idiot, and hastily backtracked. He smiled gratefully at Jack. "Maybe another quarter-hour? I'll take two of the night watches."
That made Jack grumble a little, but affectionately. He flapped a hand in farewell as he walked out, and considerately closed the door behind him.
"And that, by the way, is why I call him my captain," Will told Rob. He got up and cleared off the bowls of bloody water and the doctoring tools, then wandered over to the cabinet where Jack usually kept a few nice tidbits for midnight cravings. There he found an orange and he returned to Rob while peeling it.
Rob, meanwhile, had slid from his chair to the floor. He already had his coat off and his shirt pulled over one shoulder, and now he gingerly tugged the shirt off the rest of the way. "I'd still rather take Woodes' head. Perhaps his old lover joining the Spanish isn't his fault-though that's an interesting logical construction if I ever heard one-but still, he-"
"I'm sure the feeling's mutual." Will popped a bit of orange into Rob's mouth to shut him up, but Rob was quick enough to catch Will's finger between his teeth. He held it light as a cat carrying her kitten, then slowly let it slip from his mouth without ever looking away from Will. In his head, Will damned the tease, and in his trousers, Will…greatly appreciated it. "I'm sorry about your men."
That resulted in an odd look from Rob. Then the man laid down on his good side, curling around Will as Will sat. "You don't think I actually care about them, do you?"
Oh, right, Rob was missing that part of human nature. Then again…Will fed him another piece of orange and let Rob suck the juices from his finger. He rubbed beneath Rob's chin so the other man's eyes closed in pleasure. "I think you care as far as they're yours and it annoys you when someone else interferes with them. But I'm still sorry for more than that."
"It's your prerogative to waste your energy," Rob mumbled around Will's finger. He rolled onto his stomach, then crawled up to rest his upper body in Will's lap. The next time Will offered him some fruit, he ignored it in favor of licking softly all over Will's hand, tongue slipping between Will's fingers to wet the sensitive webbing. "I suppose part of this may turn out well-now Woodes has a reason to work with us besides Bart's maneuverings."
"Hmm. Actually, I feel a little sorry for Rogers right now. He's going to have a time dealing with Blood." Will ate the rest of the orange while Rob flicked his tongue beneath Will's nails. Then he took his hand away from Rob's mouth and curved it around Rob's nape, sliding his fingers up to toy with the earring through one soft lobe. Rob started to rub his face up Will's stomach but had to stop, wincing.
After licking his hand clean, Will petted the bandage around Rob's arm. "Well, that should keep you manageable for a while. You'll have to be nice to Bart-I think he might have felt me going off, and he'll be fretting about whether I've ruined things."
"He'll be fretting about whether you're ruined," Rob corrected. He twisted in Will's lap as Will ran a hand down his chest to hook the ring through his nipple, then gave Will a sharp look. "He does miss you a good deal. Why on earth would you make a pact with him if you didn't think he was the kind that would?"
Because Will occasionally had impulses that didn't always turn out to be good decisions, and because Bart was harder to read than Jack, whom Will knew would be loyal in a tight spot as long as Will was loyal to him. It wasn't entirely Bart's fault; Will had never really seen him in a situation where he'd have to pick between others and his own survival. But nevertheless, it was a concern.
"Maybe because you're so charming," Will playfully said. He didn't do too badly at the half-truth, he thought, but Rob still wasn't fooled. However, Rob also wasn't inclined to push the issue when Will had one hand knotted in his hair and the other roaming in his trousers. Thankfully.
* * *
Tom sat on the bed and glared at Woodes, who clearly didn't have the slightest clue why.
All right, he had to give leeway for Woodes' temper, since the man was understandably upset about one, losing ground against the others, and two, having the heart of his territory violated by an old friend and lover. To judge from his mutterings as he stalked about the room, Woodes seemed more irritated by the second; the first he apparently saw as natural, given that Sparrow and Turner were pirates and that Cochrane was simply deranged.
He finally stopped at the door and stuck his head out, calling for Dampier. Once the other man had arrived, he gave orders to sail for French Hispaniola. Then he slammed the door, locked it, and spun around only to give Tom an irritated look. "I thought I told you to go to sleep."
"Perhaps I'm not tired," Tom acidly said. He picked at his shirt and sniffed; it was a new one, but he hadn't had time to do more than sluice at himself before Woodes had shoved him in here. He still smelled like blood-oh, what a wonderful pun.
Woodes paused in the act of taking off his coat. He looked extremely puzzled. "What?"
On the one hand, it should be obvious and Tom didn't want to have to explain himself because it made him feel excessively didactic. On the other, his patience wasn't going to last. He scooted off the bed and leaned against its post, glowering at Woodes. "I am a thief, a brigand, a scoundrel, a gambler and a killer. These I freely-nay, proudly admit to. But one thing that I am not, Woodes, is any kind of whore."
"Who said you were? I'll have them keelhauled." Brisk as a housewife, Woodes finished removing his coat and then started undressing for sleep.
He was perfectly serious. It was a draw whether Tom's amusement or his exasperation was stronger. "You are, damn it. With your actions if not your words."
"What?" That got Woodes' attention.
"Well, let's see. England thought you'd resume your attachment to him, and so he could lure you that way after sowing dissent and distrust with his zombies." When Woodes reached for him, Tom flipped up his hands to block. "Oh, no. None of that 'fuck me till I don't remember' nonsense. Not unless you're going to rape me, because frankly, that's the only way you're going to have me from now on."
Woodes' mouth actually dropped open. Not much, barely enough for a straw to fit through, but given that it was him and that a cannonball could miss him by a hair and not provoke a change in expression, that was impressive. He lifted his hands a little higher, then dropped them. Shaking his head, he looked out the window and then back at Tom, checking again. "England's an idiot. What he thought was a delusion-I don't ever share my bed with more than one at a time, unlike Bart Roberts."
"And then there's the fact that you only seem to bed those with powers you think you can use. Since you're a little weaker than most of the captains around. Let me think-there was England, I understand there was Dampier for a while, and there might have been Bart Roberts but he turned you down for…right, your first mate who-"
Tom had to stop talking because Woodes was shaking him, and so hard his head was rattling against the bedpost. The other man stopped, eyes horrifically furious, and tried to say something. But his anger was too much, and instead he merely shook Tom again.
Which Tom grimly let him do. The next time Woodes stopped, Tom croaked a laugh. "God. There's more than one way to whore someone out, Rogers, and believe me, I've suffered enough variations to know when someone's doing it to me."
Much to his surprise, Woodes didn't shake him, or otherwise harm him. Actually, the other man let go of Tom and stumbled backward, hand rising to block his expression from Tom. He stared to the side again, and for so long that Tom finally risked moving. Then Woodes snapped his eyes back at Tom.
"That's not my intention," he said.
"And I do believe that, but this is getting too complicated. We had a business arrangement in the beginning, which was and still is appealing to me." Tom sat down on the bed and rubbed at the back of his head. Hopefully Woodes wouldn't throw him out before his head stopped spinning, since between Woodes' shaking and the fight earlier, Tom was feeling slightly less than steady on his feet. "But that-" he gestured at the bed "-isn't business. Treating me like a…pet isn't business."
Woodes appeared to take Tom's words seriously, his face returning to its usual indecipherable mask. Then he took a step forward, his manner subtly changing in a way that sorely tested Tom's willpower. "You didn't give me much notice that you disliked that."
"Well, because I do like it. But it's not something that's included in my purchasable services," Tom replied. He was irritated to hear his voice trembling.
Woodes put a hand against the post for support and looked at their feet, thinking. Then he looked up at Tom and leaned in so his breath ghosted heat over Tom's face. "What would you say to not having a business arrangement?"
Honestly? That Woodes was losing his famous coldblooded calculation. No one in their right mind would seriously take up with Tom. That was the entire point of the Blood reputation. "I'd say you're doing a terrible job of proposing it. This still sounds like we're arranging terms."
"I'll work on that," Woodes solemnly said. Then he pushed further forward, but Tom flinched when he was only an inch away. Woodes paused a moment before he…gently kissed Tom on the side of the jaw. Then he withdrew, and walked around to the other side of the bed.
What…in hell…Tom stared into space for several minutes. While his mind unfroze, Woodes calmly dealt with boots, laces, and got under the blankets. It wasn't clear in the least what he expected Tom to do.
And Tom didn't know what he expected himself to do. So he did what came naturally-in other words, he was a reckless idiot.
He slid beneath the sheets on the other side of the bed, reasoning that if he didn't have to put up with a hammock, then he wasn't going to. Then he spent quite a while lying uncomfortably by himself and coming to the painful realization that he was too damned used to falling asleep wound around Woodes.
Damn it to hell. He rolled over and cozied up to Woodes, who grunted in surprise and wrapped an arm around Tom's waist. Then Woodes tried to slide his hand over Tom's buttock and Tom pointedly bucked.
Woodes snorted above Tom's head. "You're a bastard beneath that quick mouth."
"Yes, I am. So?" Tom waited with bated breath.
Eventually Woodes resettled his hand on Tom's waist. His fingers remained stiff as if he thought Tom would shake him off again, but when Tom didn't, he relaxed into the mattress. Within a minute, he was fast asleep.
Tom didn't manage the same feat for some hours.
* * *
Halfway through the night, Elizabeth's stomach woke her. She extracted herself from the soft knot that was Anamaria and Kitty, then crept down to the kitchens.
On her way back, she noticed light coming from beneath the door of the map-room. She quietly pushed open the door to see Bart bent over the table, calipers in one hand and pencil in the other. He looked up and smiled his usual charming smile, but his fatigue was showing. "Miss Swann. Roaming for crumbs?"
"I'm in no need, thank you."' She leaned against the door and watched him work. "You can't really do anything till they return, you know."
"Obviously. But what little I can do, I'd like to have finished before Will and Rob come back." Bart's mouth thinned into a hard, merciless line as his hands flew over the maps. "I don't like to keep outstanding debts too long to men like Woodes Rogers and Blackbeard. Though I suppose I should reserve judgment on Woodes."
He was tired, if he was revealing that much. Elizabeth, however, was not going to be the one to tell him so. Instead she slipped back out the door and headed up to bed.
***