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Title: Caramel Kisses
Author: heartofslash
Fandom/Pairing: POTC, The Pirate Way, (Elizabeth/Alex)
Rating: PG-15
Disclaimer: Makes no profit, commits no foul. I’m not the owner of some characters.
Note: This is a continuation of The Pirate Way.
This chapter comes after “Infinitely Better”, in which Elizabeth met Alex, had tea with Alex, made custard with Alex, kissed Alex, and discovered why Alex looked disturbingly familiar. This time, they are making caramels.
Thanks to: pir8fancier, for the caramel recipe, the feedback, the friendship and everything else. (And because I would seriously get off on making caramels with her some day.)
Caramel Kisses
“No, no, no, dear. You’ll burn the sugar! Hold it like this, above the stovetop, not touching it.” Alex put her hand over Elizabeth’s to guide it up, so the pan hovered over the hot iron stove.
“Use the brush to coat the sides of the pot, that’s what the water is for. See, the sugar doesn’t turn to crystals.”
Even through the layers of towel wrapped around Elizabeth’s hand, she could feel Alex’s fingers, long, tapered, elegant fingers. Perhaps, Elizabeth thought to herself, she had placed the pan on the stove on purpose, knowing that Alex would have to touch her hand to correct the error.
“Can you hold it up long enough?” Alex asked. Breath whispered over Elizabeth’s shoulder. Warm breath. Breath that, Elizabeth knew, tasted as sweet as it smelled. “It might be another three minutes or more before it boils.”
“You may have to keep my hand steady.” For three minutes or more.
Alex smiled her sly smile. “I might…”
They were alone, as they had been every afternoon for the entire week. Alex sent the help home, and Jonathon went out to explore. He had no desire to be around while the cooking was happening.
“I don’t want to watch you two kiss,” he’d said as he rushed out the back door earlier. Elizabeth had blushed, but she knew kissing would happen. It had happened every afternoon. They cooked and they kissed and Elizabeth wished it could happen every day for the rest of her life.
Jonathon was alarmingly undisturbed by the sight of his mother kissing another woman. Elizabeth had thought that unnatural, until she found out that Jonathon spent much of his free time lurking around a notorious house of ill repute, which was run by his real mother.
Alex was his real mother, though, wasn’t she? She had raised him, cared for him, taught him his lessons, fed and clothed him, held his hand and sang to him and rubbed his tummy when he was ill or frightened. She was a good mother.
Except for allowing her son to lurk about a house of ill repute.
Jonathon didn’t seem to be lusting after the women, although at his age he should have been. He seemed to accept the women as a part of life. In his young, full life, there was the sea, and seafaring men, and there was the navy and there was travel around the world and there were women of ill repute and there were pirates and there was his mother, really his aunt, kissing another woman, and Jonathon took everything in stride. He’d heard tales of his father, and of his father’s lover, and he asked Elizabeth questions about Will, and Elizabeth had answered them as best she could, marvelling that the boy accepted all this with such grace.
Perhaps he didn’t really understand.
Perhaps he thought it was normal for two men in be together in a manner beyond friendship. Or perhaps he merely believed Will was Jack’s good friend. And perhaps he thought that when Alex kissed Elizabeth, it was a friendly gesture, similar to holding hands or an innocent embrace.
Perhaps it was.
Alex had shown no inclination to escalate the physical part of their friendship. They kissed. And held hands. And shared embraces. Perhaps all those things really were innocent, and Elizabeth was imagining things, or rather yearning for more.
“Now you can put it on the stove,” Alex said, sweet breath wafting directly into Elizabeth’s ear.
Elizabeth shivered.
“We leave it now, leave it to get hot.”
Elizabeth felt the sweat break out on her forehead.
“How do you know when it is ready?” Elizabeth asked.
Alex unwrapped the towel from the pot handle, held Elizabeth’s hand in hers, and smiled. “I’ll know. It is an art, you know. Patience. One must be very careful to wait, to not disturb, to let the sugar slowly heat to the right temperature. The trick is to know when it is ready for the next step.”
Elizabeth could only nod. Alex was standing in front of her, with her plain green dress covered by a snowy white apron, tight strings emphasising the curve of her waist and swell of her bosom. Her dark hair was tied back in a thick plait, with tiny tendrils escaping to frame her face.
Elizabeth wanted so much to do more than just kiss.
Alex leaned forward and their lips touched.
Their tongues met gently at first, as always, then with a greater intensity, more pressure, higher tension.
Just kissing was good. Kissing was grand. Elizabeth could be satisfied with just kissing.
Alex put her hand on Elizabeth’s hip and let her fingers wander down to the place where Elizabeth’s thigh met her torso. Her other hand slid back to cup Elizabeth’s rear. Alex pulled Elizabeth closer, and their bodies pressed together.
Oh, no, Elizabeth would not be satisfied with just kissing. This was much more than kissing, and she wanted it very much. More of it. Now.
She made a noise, a moan, in Alex’s mouth, and the hand on her rear squeezed, the fingers on her hip jumped down and forward. Yes, yes, yes, Elizabeth’s mind screamed. Fingertips pressed on her upper thigh, between her thighs, up, up.
“It’s ready,” Alex whispered as she pulled her hand away.
Elizabeth almost let out a curse. She stopped herself in time and wrapped a towel around her forearm as instructed. Alex donned a long, thick, quilted glove and moved a bowl of cream from where it had been warming on a shelf above the stove.
“Stir in the butter,” Alex said calmly, and Elizabeth did as instructed, watching the pale yellow swirl and disappear into the steaming, roiling dark sugar. “Now, keep your head well back.”
Alex slowly added the warmed cream. The sugar boiled up violently. Elizabeth held onto the handle for dear life and watched Alex deftly stir and add and stir and add. Once all the cream was in the pan, her movements sped and she stirred vigorously.
Elizabeth stopped looking at the concoction in the pan and concentrated on Alex’s face, at her lips pursed in concentration, sweat beading on her smooth forehead, eyes dark with delight. Alex loved to cook, but not dinners or breads or substantial foods. She made custard, and frothy desserts, and sweet little squares of sugar and milk and spices. Treats. She liked treats.
It didn’t show on her slender figure. In fact, Elizabeth wasn’t sure what happened to the rest of the sweets once she and Alex had sampled them. There were never any leftovers in the kitchen. She had spotted Jonathon, two nights before, heading toward the harbour with a basket covered with a square of bright white linen. Elizabeth suspected that the ladies of ill repute at Marina’s house were quite pleased that Alex was in Port Royal and inviting Elizabeth over every day to make these decadent, excessive desserts.
Alex closed her hand over Elizabeth’s wrist and lifted the pot. “Put it on that trivet,” she said, and busied herself with crushing the vanilla beans and grinding some salt to a very fine powder.
Elizabeth picked up a smooth, glass pan and smeared butter across the surface. She pushed the pan across the table and watched Alex pour the mixture into it.
“It’ll be a while, at least eight hours,” Alex said. “Caramels are not an instant treat.”
Elizabeth hadn’t been expecting an instant treat.
“So, we must find some way to occupy ourselves for the next eight hours,” Alex murmured, voice soft and low.
Elizabeth had a few vague ideas, but nothing concrete. She only knew that she yearned, and that eight hours alone with Alex would be better than all the nights she’d ever spent with her husband.
Alex rounded the table and lifted Elizabeth’s hands to her mouth. “You have butter on your fingers,” she whispered.
Elizabeth nodded and had to shut her eyes when Alex took a fingertip between her lips and flicked her tongue over it lightly.
“Mmmm.”
Mmmm indeed.
Eight hours.
Alex sucked Elizabeth’s thumb into her mouth. Elizabeth stared at the full, rich red lips as they puckered. Smooth, pale cheeks hollowed slightly and Elizabeth felt the suction down to her toes. Dizzy, she felt dizzy, and she wasn’t even wearing a corset.
“Oh, love, do you need to lie down?”
Yes, lying down would be very good. Elizabeth felt herself being led out of the hot kitchen, into the warm hallway, into the cooler parlour. She was laid down on the settee, cool green silk against her cheek. Her gown slipped across the smooth upholstery. She had to grab the back of the settee to keep from sliding off.
Alex was closing the drapes. Elizabeth watched her glide to the double door and turn the key in the lock. “We shan’t be disturbed,” Alex whispered.
Excellent, Elizabeth thought. She wasn’t sure why the door needed to be locked when she was merely lying down to rest, but then Alex’s mouth on hers reminded her that some things should be kept private. She moaned and licked her tongue into Alex’s mouth.
Butter and sugar and vanilla. Caramel kisses.
She loved the feel of a tongue against hers. Her husband did not kiss her often, and when he did the taste of the rum was overpowering. But she’d known about tongues before she’d been married. She’d licked inside Will Turner’s mouth more than once. Will’s responses were always tentative, restrained, she’d wanted to think. Now she knew he’d never really wanted to kiss her. She had wanted very much to kiss him, though, and was glad she had, because it gave her something to compare this to, and this was even better.
Alex was confident and gentle at first, then she thrust her tongue a bit harder and soon she was tasting every part of Elizabeth, swallowing her moans and forcing her lips even further open. She untied Elizabeth hair and buried her hands in the curls, rubbed her body against Elizabeth’s and made a low growl.
“Precious,” Alex whispered against Elizabeth’s cheek. “You have no idea, do you?”
Frankly, Elizabeth could not have formed a coherent idea to save her life. When Alex started to untie her dress, Elizabeth could only lean to the side to give her greater access to the fastenings. Refusal was inconceivable. She wanted to feel Alex’s hands in her hair again, on her hips, everywhere. She wriggled frantically when Alex began to pull her bodice down.
“Stand up, love. It won’t do to damage this pretty dress.”
It wasn’t a particularly pretty dress. She couldn’t afford very pretty dresses. But it was a lovely creamy blue that set off her skin in a pleasing way, and it looked just fine over there, on the chair, instead of on her body.
Alex pushed her back down on the settee. Elizabeth was wearing only a plain cotton shift and her underthings, which made her nervous but in the most delicious way. Alex kissed her mouth again, then began to trail her lips down Elizabeth’s long, slender neck.
Elizabeth let out a long sigh. This was what she wanted, to feel Alex’s lips on her, to be touched and petted and cared for, to feel Alex push the top of her shift down, to feel Alex’s hand stroke her chest and down across her breasts.
Elizabeth’s eyes flew open. James had never touched her like this, so gentle, yet with such purpose. Every flick of Alex’s wrist, every swipe of her tongue, every suck and kiss and lick, planned, with intent to please, with intent to urge Elizabeth on, to make her want more.
She found herself moaning, shamelessly and freely, and making words without thinking on it. Please. Yes. More.
Alex’s face swam into view. “Are you alright, darling?”
Elizabeth nodded. “Never better.”
Alex looked very pleased with herself. “If only you could see yourself, so wanton and unbound. Beautiful.”
No, Elizabeth thought, you are the beautiful one.
Now she understood why, on that little island in the middle of nowhere, in the midst of her scheming and her manipulation of Jack to get him to pass out drunk so she could light the signal fire, why, for a moment, when he looked into her eyes and spoke of freedom and the Black Pearl, Elizabeth had felt a pang of guilt for her plan. And a tug of something warm inside, something she was not supposed to feel. Because at that moment, Jack’s eyes looked something like Alex’s eyes.
And, later, on the deck of the Dauntless, when she’d talked to Jack about saving Will, and her decision to marry James, she’d felt a twinge of jealously. Even then, she thought, she could see how Jack felt about Will. Even then she could sense his desire, and she’d thought she might have been jealous because Will felt the same toward Jack. But what she was really jealous of was Jack liking Will, because in that moment, in the moonlight, the shaped of Jack’s mouth was so like the shape of Alex’s mouth, and the line of his nose, when he held it just so, was exactly like Alex’s. And the thought of Alex liking someone else gave her a queasy feeling.
Except she’d never met Alex. But maybe that didn’t matter. Maybe it isn’t necessary to actually meet the person you are meant for in order to be meant for them, to recognise that you’re meant for them. And there was enough of Alex in Jack for Elizabeth to recognise it in him, two years before she ever met Alex.
And perhaps that was why she had taken such an immediate dislike to Jack. Not because he threatened her, but because, with his decadent ways and filthy habits, he was an insult to the person meant for Elizabeth, by impersonating Alex, as it were.
But that line of reason wasn’t logical. It was downright Sparrow-like.
“Why so serious?”
“Hmm?” Elizabeth focused on the dark eyes in front of her face.
“You look suddenly, resolutely and incontrovertibly serious.”
“Do I?”
Alex nodded, and nuzzled Elizabeth’s neck. “Is this too much for you?”
“Goodness, it’s nowhere near enough, but…” Elizabeth looked around the room. “I…” Elizabeth bit her lip and fidgeted with her fingers, and realised that Alex had removed her dress as well, or at least pushed it down her torso, and that Elizabeth's fingers were tangled in the frothy lace at the neck of a very expensive undergown. “I was thinking. Do you think people are meant for each other?”
Alex sat up, and Elizabeth immediately regretted the question. The space between them when Alex was upright was unacceptable.
“On the whole,” Alex said carefully, “I would say that any two people can find pleasure together for a time.”
“I’m not talking about ‘for a time’” Elizabeth said.
Alex smiled. “Oh, you’re talking about us, then.”
Elizabeth held her breath.
“I think I’ve been waiting for a woman like you all my life,” Alex said.
Elizabeth let her breath out.
“And I’d like to see the rest of you. We still have at least seven hours, you know…”
Next: Baked Apples
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