The salt water now brought something new, a suffocation that burned my throat and allowed me to drink in oxygen only through his mouth.  The salt water now brought desire.

            He'd been drinking.

            So had I.  The sails hid us from God and the loveless moon.  A grateful pirate's sleep covered us from eyes that were not our own.

            His eyes glowed when they turned to notice me.

            "Hello, Jack."

            "Elizabeth?"  I envied the deck as it collected the gentle caresses of his footsteps to flaunt later.  He was like a cat, glimmering orbs shining at me, silent feet, a swaggering, immortal quality to his walk.  The points of light were close now and he crouched beside where I sat on the aging wood, fabric draping itself around me and a hazel bottle half-emptied and tipping from where I rested my wrists on my skirt.  My feet splayed out from bent knees and my eyes were slow to meet his.

            "A toast?"

            Cobwebbed green clanked against transparent brown and he would have swallowed, I would have watched tiny contractions move down his throat, had I not sprung sideways to meet his mouth.

            He kissed me back and the salt didn't bother me, my throat was smooth with shared rum.  My lips were cracking but liquid heaven moistened them and dribbled across his chest.  I couldn't help wanting it, and I left rum flavored bites along his beard and down onto his chest where my pounce had misplaced it.

            Not enough.  I wanted it off and achieved it with hands that made him shiver, heat having seized both our bodies.  He seized my hands and pushed me on my back, his weight pulsing against my ribs and his breathing faster from breath lost to the kiss.  His tongue played across my lips until they opened and it darted between them.  His fingertips played through my hair as his elbows supported him against the forgotten ship, his forgotten command and only my there.  My hands flattened themselves against his chest and slipped into his pants.

            Not yet.  Passion must burn before it can scorch, a trail of gunpowder leading to the battery.

            I ran my hands up his back again, withdrawing them.  He was obsessed with fire and my knickers, center warm and sticky, were thrown aside as my skirt had been, pooling around my waist.

            His mouth was hot as it trailed up each thigh in tiny nips, only to turn to what they hid, what I had craved.  I must have screamed as my body rocked.  I hadn't known, had tasted vine but never been given bottles and bottles of rum until my brain and body no longer understood, nor wanted to understand each other. 

            "Ready now, love?"  I looked down at his face and it was triumphant.  I wanted him terribly.  My arms raised above my head and my chin rested back as kisses and strong hands pushed my shimmy across them.  His sash, coarse across my fingers, and pants joined it.

            He still stood, my hands returning to where they had loosened his pants and tracing, fascinated.  My tongue flitted towards rigid flesh and for a moment he let me, my mouth experimenting.

            Then his hands tightened on his shoulders and I let him push me back to lie on the ground.  His hair swung towards my face in loosened knots and beads tied with memories.  His beard was close and I spread my thighs open further.

            He thrust himself into me and pain and pleasure met, the former falling quickly away for the latter's intense victory.  I could not breathe for the full, hot feeling that consumed me and yet I managed to gasp with him, faster and faster.

            His mouth covered my breasts over and over again.  Frenzy raced through my blood.  Desire.  Salt water.  Rum spilling as it tipped across the deck.

            My back arched, over and over, hips bucking and colliding into him.  We both shuddered.  Heat radiated from our bodies and condensed on our skin.

            Desire.  Salt water.  Arching.  Colliding.  A storm crashed in my ears and I cried out.

            His passion slammed harder into me than before and his release brought mine, the dizzying clench and release of fire that burnt us both, as I had predicted.

            It was too soon that I found us next to each other, scorched but surviving.  The waves sounded loudly against the wood beneath it, holding the desire for the next few moments.  Rum, sweat, blood and sex's moisture.  I looked at him, the bullet wounds in his chest, the perfect lips and expressive eyebrows.  His eyes were half-open, but black made them larger.  His mustache and beard and how everything about him was masculine.  He looked back at me.

            His lips brushed my jaw and his hand caressed my stomach.   His eyes darted away for a moment and then over my back.  The warmth left my skin to encircle an unstrangleable neck.  His gaze returned to me.  Translucent blue shined in old moon rays.

            "Rum, Lizzie?"

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