Fire and Ice
Elizabeth paced the floor of Lord Beckett's cabin, flinching every time she heard the hull take a direct hit. At last, unable to take anymore, she rushed to the door, yanked it open and ran on deck. And into chaos.
A cannonball erupted through a gunwale, and Elizabeth felt it ruffle her skirts as it passed. She jumped aside, landing hard against the mast. All around her, men lay dying or wounded, pirates swinging onto the deck bearing pistols and cutlasses. She spotted Beckett on the quarterdeck, and quickly ducked out of sight.
"Elizabeth!" a pair of hands grasped her shoulders and swung her into the gap beneath the stairs. Elizabeth looked up into the worried eyes of her father. "What are you doing out here?"
"I couldn't stay in the cabin, Father. Not in the middle of a battle. I want to help!" Elizabeth shouted above the noise. Governor Swann shot her a surprised look.
"Elizabeth, it is too dangerous! Go back to the cabin!" Swann shouted over the noise.
"Father, I won't!" but her words were drowned out by another cannon hit, the gunwale beside them exploding outwards. Elizabeth was thrown sideways, her head impacting against the wooden deck. Everything went black.
Groggily, Elizabeth came to; feeling a heavy throbbing in her head. She slowly opened her eyes, feeling as though it would explode. What had just happened?
"Elizabeth!" a pair of strong hands helped her stand, and instantly she felt safe despite the sounds of cannon fire still echoing around her. She looked up into cool blue eyes, and felt her world anchored.
"Beckett! What happened?" she asked tremblingly, as his warm arms came around her, helping her to remain upright, giving her some rock to cling to in the rapidly spinning world.
"I told you to remain in the cabin!" his furious voice barely punctured Elizabeth's fear, as slowly her memory of the past few moments came back to her. Her father…
Elizabeth's gaze slid sideways, at the body of her father, a wound in his head bleeding copiously, the grey periwig shredded beyond repair. "Father!"
With an anguished cry, Elizabeth tore free of her captor's arms to fling herself beside her sire, feeling desperately for his pulse. There was none, just blood and lots of it, covering her fingers. Her father was dead. "NO!"
She collapsed, weeping, onto his brocaded chest, feeling the grief sink in deep. This was the last straw; first Will, then her father. Why was life so cruel?
This was her fault; if he hadn't been so busy arguing with his obstinate daughter he might've been able to duck away from the cannon ball. It was all her fault.
Suddenly warmth punctured the black, roiling swamp of her misery, the scalding tears checked as strong arms came around her, offering comfort and support. She cried into a froth of lace at the base of his throat, clinging to him, as he tried to comfort her, hushing her tears. He lifted her into his arms, and carried her away from the site of carnage, as the pirates fled into the distance.
Elizabeth stared miserably at the wooden planks that formed the wall of Beckett's cabin, feeling the sobs that had wracked her body dissipate, her sorrow deadening. Her fiancé had carried her away from her father's corpse, and to his cabin, laying her on the bed and bidding her rest until he returned. She could hear his footsteps approaching, and at that moment felt her sorrow transmute into something else. She just wanted to forget everything now. With him. To finish what they had started only mere hours before; as the sun rose over the horizon, flashes of gold and pink tingeing the windows.
The door opened; and she felt him approach her, kneeling on the bed, bending over her. "Elizabeth?"
Feeling his warm breath on the nape of her neck, she shivered and turned over, staring at him with red-rimmed eyes, her unshed tears making them glisten like gems. Her hair was ruffled and dishevelled, torn from its elegant style, falling around her face in soft waves, framing her tear-stained face, her lips swollen and red. Beckett caught his breathe looking at her, seeing the invitation in her eyes. "Elizabeth…."
"Please," she whispered pleadingly, pulling his lips to hers. In that moment she needed him so desperately, she almost couldn't breathe. She needed to forget, now, in his arms, with him. Beckett could feel his control slipping away, as her mouth fastened onto his greedily, inciting his deepest desires, her hands sliding into his hair, knocking the wig away. She had to be insane.
That particular observation was further reinforced when she pulled her down on top of her on the bed, shredding his senses, at the feel of softly feminine curves against his body. He groaned into her mouth, her tongue driving him demented. When had the pupil become the master?
Her hands were frantic, tearing away his waistcoat and shirt, impatiently pushing at his coat when he realised what was really happening. It was like that first night, her first night onboard the Endeavour. She wanted nothing more than to forget the sorrow of losing yet another loved one by giving herself to him, wholeheartedly this time. She was ready to become his. Ready to give in.
Pausing slightly at the revelation, Beckett framed her face and recaptured control of the kiss, angling his head over hers, powerfully taking all she offered, before he pulled apart her bodice, sliding the tight sleeves down her arms, easing the blood-stained gown from her body. Elizabeth shivered and clung to him, twining her arms around his neck, keeping his hot skin against hers. She needed him inside her now. So when he tumbled her back into the bed, she arched, offering herself flagrantly, unafraid. Beckett took full advantage; pressing scalding caresses down her neck, trailing over her breasts through the silken chemise, his hands already easing the corset from her. Elizabeth could only moan and arch wildly, teeth gritted against the rising need. She could feel him harden against her abdomen, at her movement, feel his agonised groan. He sat up and shrugged aside his coat, waistcoat and the rest of his clothes, reaching for her. Elizabeth smiled and pulled her chemise over her head, flinging it away, feeling tears trail down her cheeks. Beckett's gaze hungrily devoured her; before he lowered his body back to hers, taking her mouth in a storm of passion and desire, their minds wiped clean. She writhed beneath the evidence of his desire, inciting his need, urging him to take her, once and for all. All thoughts of resistance had long since disappeared, from the moment she had felt his warm arms keeping her sane as she'd wept over her father's corpse.
"Elizabeth…" at the whisper, she shifted against him, as his hands left her breast and waist, to trail down her legs, moving them gently outward, spreading hot caresses up the inside, drifting to the core of her desire. Where she burned with it, as if on fire. A moment later she felt his fingers inside, making her lose her mind, driving her insane with pleasure and need, driving her over the peak. She felt satiation flood her, as with an aroused cry, she let go of everything. He kissed her hungrily, feeling ready to explode, as he withdrew his fingers from her body and replaced them with his body, sliding into her. He leant his forehead on her chest, teeth gritted against the urge to ravish her, at the feel of her scalding heat around him. She'd tensed, probably expecting that same sharp pain as before. He forced himself to raise his head and gently caress her lips with his own, sending her a reassuring, albeit pained, smile.
"Relax. You won't feel that pain ever again," he breathed, as he felt her exhale shakily and slowly relaxed. Keeping eye contact, he withdrew and returned, thrusting into her body. Elizabeth's breath hitched, her beautiful golden eyes widening, before she arched, urging him deeper as he repeated the manoeuvre. She clutched his back, as the tempo increased, feeling the pressure within build, as he stretched her body, claiming her for his own. She cried out as he thrust roughly into her, feeling his lips return to her body, suckling her breast, pulling her up against his body as he devoured her. She felt as though she would explode with the pleasure he was inflicting on her body, rocking her head back against the pillows of his bed with the force of his movement, identical gasps breaking from their lips. He kissed her again, hungrily, passionately, as aggressively as she needed him to be. She could feel everything; the strong muscles beneath her fingers, the hair of his legs against the sensitive inner faces of her thighs, hot and hard inside her body, his passionate mouth on lips, her face, her neck, her breast. Anywhere and everywhere she needed him to be. Fulfilling her, and him.
At the thought she felt herself come apart, crying out at the intense pleasure, as he groaned bestially, kissing her wildly, their tongues duelling before he slumped over her, his warmth filling her womb. Exhausted and sweaty, he withdrew from her body, and rolled off her, tucking her against his side. She kissed the hand on her collarbone tiredly, grateful for the release he had given her; the forgetfulness his touch could bring on, the peace.
They had come together, fire and ice, and joined in harmony. Snuggling back against him, feeling very much possessed. She was his.
Feeling his breath deepen into slumber, she willed herself to sleep.
Her last thought was; maybe being married to Lord Beckett won't be such a bad thing, after all.