Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to Disney.

A/N: BEWARE, mateys, for this chapter does contain smut of an M-rated nature. If such things cause you to swoon or blush, venture no further! For those of you who dare, I hope you enjoy. I don't usually write smut to this degree, but I felt inspired. Don't ask by what ;)

Truth and Her Consequences
By Sinnamon Spider

Scene Two: Something Sweet

His first thought was of how beautiful she was when she was drunk. Her beauty became careless and natural. She didn't constrict herself to small, delicate movements and she uttered whatever thoughts filtered their way through the rum that was clouding her dark blonde head. And as they sang and danced around the fire like participants in some native ritual, he saw emerge in her a fire that had long been smouldering beneath her prim and proper exterior.

Yes, it was quite clear that all her inhibitions had left her when she pressed against him, snuggling close against his chest. And when he fell backward into the sand, the rum bottle falling aside to leak its amber contents onto the beach, it didn't take her long to follow him until she was practically astride him.

"Have you had enough rum now, Jack?" she asked breathlessly, her hair falling forward to curtain around them, the firelight shining through the strands and turning them to spun gold.

He had not, in fact, drunk all that he was capable of, but he had consumed enough to brush aside the nagging fact that she was drunk and vulnerable and barely seventeen and claim her lips with his own.

She moaned beneath his mouth and his pride swelled, along with certain parts of his anatomy. He was certain the whelp had never kissed her like this, if he had even been bold enough to kiss her at all.

His hands delved into her fiery hair, holding her steady as his mouth ravaged hers, and he could feel the trembling in her limbs. With a sweep of white sand, he reversed their positions, so she lay, hazy-eyed and panting, beneath him.

"What do…what do I do?" she asked, her already flushed skin turning a shade deeper. She was young and very much a perfect English rose, innocent and sheltered. But he had no qualms about teaching her as they went along. "Touch me," he said huskily, lowering his mouth to her throat and feeling, as well as hearing, her breath catch.

She had good instincts and her hands strayed to his chest, sliding under his shirt to run across his skin. He could feel her delicate fingers trace the wounds she had so doubted and he shivered beneath her touch, moving his lips to the curve of her breast. Helplessly, he rocked his hips against hers.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her hands flexing and dragging her nails across his flesh, scraping his nipples. He raised his face from her breast to give her a searing kiss, rocking against her again, purposefully this time. Her hands clutched at him, searching for purchase on the smooth plane of his chest.

He broke the kiss and raised himself off her. Her look of dismay coupled with desire made him smirk. He hurriedly shed his shirt, then lifted her up far enough to slip the sleeves and bodice of her shift away.

Both of them naked to the waist, he dragged her close, revelling in the feeling of her bare flesh against his. He lowered his mouth to take the rosy pearl of her nipple into his mouth, gently rolling it against his tongue and loving the gasp she uttered into the starry Caribbean night. Her fingers clutched his head, holding him in place as he explored her breasts with his lips and tongue.

His hand left her waist to tug the shift further down, and she raised herself up to allow him to pull it from under her, until she was naked beneath him. The same hand stroked up along her leg, smoothing over her thigh, until it brushed against her most private place.

She stiffened beneath him, suddenly aware of what was happening, but he had gentled virgins before and he removed his hand, letting it skim across her skin to her navel, where he trailed his fingers in lazy circles.

She let her hands drop from where they had been tangled in his hair, her limbs heavy as he continued his gentle exploration of her body. But the pressure he was causing soon snapped within her, and without any trace of shame or modesty, she snatched up his hand and pressed it against her.

He distracted her with light, quick kisses as his fingers delved into her, and her already harsh breathing quickened with the friction of his movements. She arched her hips against him like any wanton whore in a back alley, but she was so much softer, more delicate, more trusting, and he captured her lips in a tender kiss as her thighs tightened around his hand.

Just as her chest began to rise and fall sharper than it had been, he pulled away from her, and relished her whimper as his fingers fell away from her skin. "Just one moment, love," he murmured, pressing an open-mouthed kiss against her hip.

He quickly freed himself of his trousers and straddled her, positioning himself between her thighs. He didn't waste any time with platitudes; she was writhing beneath him and she wouldn't be more ready. He entered her carefully, feeling himself halted at her maidenhead. His hand returned to its place between her legs, fingers ready on that most sensitive part of her being, and as he moved them against her, he thrust purposefully into her.

Her cry was still one of pain, but she brushed her sweaty bangs from her eyes and gazed at him with desire written across her face, so he withdrew and thrust again. Her eyes rolled back in her head as her legs instinctively wrapped around his, her hands seeking leverage on his shoulders.

Their movements matched now, a perfect rise and fall. He bit her earlobe with more force than he had intended, but she only moaned and grabbed at his shoulders, pulling herself upwards so that every inch of her that could touch him was doing so. They rocked together as one, until she snapped taut beneath him, her eyes flying open, head tilted back, and gasped his name. "Oh, Jack!"

Her voice, rough with ecstasy, tipped him over the edge and he buried himself deep within her as his hips jerked with his release. He could feel her nails raking along his back and he dug his fingers into her hips as the final spasms of their rapture shook the both of them.

He slumped on top of her, their chests heaving together, slick skin against slick skin. Her hands traced an idle pattern on his back, smoothing over the scratches she had just etched into his flesh. They stayed pressed together for a minute more, until her laughing voice made him stir. "Jack, you're crushing me."

He rolled off her and into the sand, regretting it instantly as the gritty powder adhered to his sweaty body. She smiled at his grimace. "I know, I've got sand everywhere." Her voice lowered to a scandalized whisper and he found himself laughing. He groped around until his hand touched his discarded shirt, which he grabbed and used to wipe away the sand that was sticking to her stomach and chest. She giggled. "How gallant of you, Jack."

He tipped an invisible hat. "My pleasure," he said softly. She twisted away from him, shaking the sand from her crumpled shift and dragged it over her sticky skin. Then she settled, with a sigh, against him, resting her head on his chest. "Jack?"

"Mmm?"

"What's going to happen to us?"

He sighed. "I couldn't say, love. But we'll be all right. I always am, and I'll be sure to bring you along."

She fell silent for a few moments, then spoke up again. "What's going to happen to Will?"

Something struck him hollowly in the chest, but he ignored it, ignored her words, and merely tightened his arms around her. "Go to sleep, Elizabeth," he ordered. Within minutes, her deep, rhythmic breathing proved that she had followed his order. He sighed deeply and attempted to follow her into blissful sleep.

When he awoke, he was alone, and the smell of burning wood and something sweet was heavy in the air.