Work Text:
“Come ashore with me.”
The Black Pearl’s bosun lingers, spellbound by the view of his wife, hunched over a desk in the captain’s quarters. She is behind on documenting the past voyage’s hauls, and though he knows how sincerely she enjoys managing the ship’s expenses, it’s clear she’s frustrated.
“I told you, Will,” his quartermaster pauses only to yawn, and then returns to scrawling sums in the ship’s ledger, “Soon as I’m through with my work.”
Will gives her a brief grace period before he leans on the corner of the desk.
“Elizabeth, when the captain instructed the crew to take some leave, he meant you , too.”
By the time he finishes speaking, he’s lowered himself so that his nose is level with hers, just close enough to steal a kiss. He waits until she leans into him to press his lips upon her cheek. She’s smiling now, in spite of the furrow of her brow.
“I’m sure he didn’t…” she hums, digging into the page a moment before deciding she needs to dip into the ink, “Or if he did, he failed to consider how much work I’ve neglected as of late.”
“Well, the captain isn’t here…” Will murmurs into her hair, kissing the top of her head. If she wants it, he would kiss her everywhere. If only he could peel her away from this blasted desk…
“Then that puts me in charge,” Elizabeth quips softly, crossing a t in that elegant, swoopy handwriting of hers.
“All the more reason for you to come watch the sunset with your husband.”
Will watches her smile again as she considers it, but to his dismay, she simply turns a page and shakes her head ever so slightly.
“We have a thousand sunsets to look forward to, my love. Surely I can afford to miss one.”
Never a man to beg, Will drops to his knees anyways. At her side, he coaxes her arm off of the desk so to press his lips to the back of her hand, demanding that her attentions shift from the ledger to his desperately warm gaze.
“Please?”
“Will…”
He turns her hand over to kiss each fingertip, smudging his face with ink in the meantime, which makes her laugh and pet his hair. Still, she does not rise from her chair, and another idea floats enticingly into Will’s mind.
“Fine,” he says, standing. For half a second, he sees a shred of worry cross her expression, and he banishes it with another kiss to her crown. “If you refuse to join me for the pleasure of a walk along the beach, then I shall bring the pleasure to you.”
“Will?”
A bit of good-natured bewilderment is precisely what Will is aiming for as he draws back her chair with her in it, and kneels again, this time at her front.
“Will…” she repeats, chiding and playful. He kisses her knee in response, and turns his gaze upwards as his work-weary fingers waltz towards her belt.
“Yes, dearest?”
He finds his way under her shirt and then to the edges of her britches, feeling for the soft trail of featherlight hair that leads to his desired destination. She shudders and he wonders if his hands are cold.
“I simply must finish this…” she insists— a very unconvincing protest, given that a pink-faced smile shines down on him.
“Go ahead,” he tells her, tugging at her clothes. As if on instinct, she lifts her hips to assist. “You’re more than clever enough to mind two things at once.”
His lips find her hipbone and he hears her pen clatter onto the tabletop before her hand finds his hair. She wriggles, indicating that she is as desperate for Will to remove her britches as he is, and he obliges with all haste. The pale skin of her lower belly begs for a kiss, so Will kisses her there, and works his way downward. She wriggles again, ticklish and needy.
“Scoundrel,” she accuses as he strips away what remains of the unnecessary garments, and he confirms her assertion with another kiss, this one on the bare skin of her inner thigh. He inhales as he does, briefly overcome by his desire. He is able to taste her before he’s even opened his mouth, and his jaw tingles in anticipation.
“Pirate,” he reminds her before placing his lips in the perfect spot to evoke the sweetest sigh.
“Will…” she whines, grasping at the nape of his neck with a shaky hand, “I need to—”
The sound that follows makes him laugh. He draws back and says, “I know, Elizabeth. Why don’t I…?”
Will contorts himself and slides backward until his curved spine is touching the plank of wood that conceals the underside of the desk. She leans down, a bemused question on her face, and he grabs the two front legs of her chair in one sift motion, prompting her to giggle in surprise as he draws her in close. It’s dark and cramped down here between her knees, but in this hiding place there is only Elizabeth— her heat and her scent and her smooth, soft skin. “Keep working,” he suggests, his voice echoing slightly, “It’s like I’m not even here.”
Then, to reinforce how utterly irrelevant his presence is, he flattens his tongue against her, savoring this first taste of many he’ll have by sundown. Instantly, her thighs squeeze him as the air leaves her lungs in a sharp gasp. Will concedes to an easier pace, for how else will she be able to finish her paperwork if he keeps up such a strong start?
“Go on, Elizabeth,” he encourages her, burying his nose in her wiry curls, “That ledger needs updating, doesn’t it?”
“Mm-hm…”
For all that she has insisted that she needs to finish her paperwork, Elizabeth cannot, for the life of her, remember what is was that she was doing before her husband knelt at her feet and stole every last thought from her head with his doting mouth. She tries to sit upright, tries to resist the urge to just slouch back and melt into her chair. Will has hardly begun, and yet she can already feel herself coming undone. But he pauses, much to her chagrin, and she realizes seconds later that he is waiting for her to pick up her pen before he makes another move.
Elizabeth leans forward, bracing herself on her elbows. She flips through the past few pages, and sure enough, as soon as she’s brought the pen to the page, Will’s tongue has returned to lick the full length of her cunt. She arches back reflexively, but he snakes an arm up and around her lower back, reinforcing an upright posture more suited for what she’s meant to be doing.
Oh, but how can he expect her to focus on anything besides the warmth of his wanton kisses?
If she isn’t mistaken, she feels vibrations of his sweet laughter. He has been known to find great amusement in pleasantly tormenting her, and it seems that being crumpled beneath her desk is not hampering his mood in the slightest. It may even be enhancing things for him. And if she’s being honest, having him tucked away down there is more exciting than she expected. Now, if she could just remember the sum she was noting before his salacious interruption…
For a few minutes, Elizabeth manages to resume her work while Will continues languidly between her legs. His hand on her back does serve to ground her somewhat, and just when she has begun to settle into a middle ground between the pleasurable and the mundane, he goes from licking to sucking and sends her into the most splendid daze. She hears herself moan his name, and any thought for her obligations as quartermaster— of tomorrow’s tasks and the errands she will need to run– melts away.
Generous lover that he is, Will lavishes her with his tongue. She takes a fistful of his hair and has to remind herself to be gentle, though she wants to grip him tight and keep him right there— (“Oh yes, right there!”) forever and ever and…
Oh, but he does need to breathe, doesn’t he?
Will pauses just long enough to draw breath, but he does not keep her waiting for more. No, he places a fingertip right at her entrance, and the sheer desperation of her pulsing quim draws his touch inwards. She begs him for a second finger, and he obliges, placing teasing kisses just shy of where she is most tender. The stubble on his chin tickles, and when her whimper becomes a squeal, he laughs again with her. Will takes another moment just to caress her, whispering sweet nothings, and she curses the solid wood of the desk for muffling the sounds of his adorations. In fact, Elizabeth is considering abandoning the desk altogether and taking this back to their cabin, when the door opens.
Will does not seem to hear the intrusion, for he does not heed it. At the worst possible second, he curves his fingers, and Elizabeth jolts upright, jostling the desk and upsetting the inkwell in the process. Ink pools all over the desk, Will startles, and a loud thunk follows.
“Alright there, Swann?”
Elizabeth and Will go completely and utterly still. Ink drips onto the floorboards, and Elizabeth prays that her face isn’t as red as it feels. Dammit, Will. Didn’t you say that the Captain wasn’t here?!
“Had an encounter with an unfriendly octopus?” Jack observes the steady drip of ink as he approaches the desk. “There should be a kerchief in the left drawer.”
Elizabeth nods, and reaches for the knob. She glances down at Will as she grabs the aforementioned kerchief, but can’t make out his expression.
“Silly me,” she says, as steady as she can muster whilst Will’s hand is still firmly lodged between her legs. She scoots the chair further inward, which only increases the pressure. She bites her knuckles and starts to attend to the ink.
“How’s the ledger?” Jack asks, producing a second kerchief from his coat pocket with which he helps mop up the mess.
Elizabeth holds up the book in one hand– a good number of pages are blackened, but luckily the stain extends mostly to pages yet to be filled. Jack just chuckles and takes the book from her to skim what is still legible.
“Came back to grab some coin. Did I startle you?”
“Only a little,” she replies, forcing her face into casual stillness, “Last week’s haul is nearly—” She sits up straighter, reaching forward to point at a line in the ledger. But as she does, Will's hand twitches and the gasp she swallows comes out like a hiccup, “— nearly completely accounted for.”
Jack glances down at her, narrowing his eyes for half a second before her claps the book shuts and hands it back to her.
“Looks like you’ve got your work cut out for you. Don’t torment yourself over it. The crew’s headed to the Faithful Bride later this evening. You should join us.”
“I– I may, thank you.”
“Or don’t,” Jack shrugs, “Suit yourself. Anyways– I’ll be heading out now.”
Elizabeth smiles, white knuckling the spine of the ledger and waiting for Jack to make for the door. Beneath the desk, Will seems to think that the coast is clear, and starts to move his fingers again. Elizabeth hisses and jabs him with her knee, because Jack is still standing at arm’s distance, looking at her expectantly.
“D’you mind?” He takes a step forward, about to corner the desk, and she realizes with sudden horror that he's reaching for the drawer.
“Oh!” she gasps, “Allow me.”
Maintaining eye contact as if her life depends on it, she reaches into the drawer and fumbles around blindly until she finds his coin purse.
“Much appreciated.” Jack jingles the purse before he pockets it and turns on his heels. Elizabeth exhales. Then, halfway out the door, he throws a parting glance over his shoulder. “I’d stay to help you get caught up, but I don’t think there’s room under that desk for two. Make sure she doesn’t work too hard, William.”
Will emerges as soon as the door clicks shut with a wily grin on his flushed face. He nuzzles into her apologetic caresses as she examines the fresh bruise blossoming into a sizable bump on his forehead. He winces, but his smile does not falter.
“There’s still time to catch the sunset, if you’re up for it?”
“Oh, I don’t think so, Mister Turner,” says Elizabeth, shaking her head as she laughs, “You and I have lots of work to catch up on…”
♡