A hint of Jack/Beckett, which probably disqualify it from actually being posted to blackpearlsails. Oops! Unless the non-slash rule is more like a guideline...? ;)
A blade taps his wrist, an inch away from the prize, and Jack knows the jig is up.
“Sparrow…” Cultured, sardonic. Horribly familiar. “Where’s my cargo?”
He turns with a winning smile. “Misplaced, as it were.”
“How unfortunate. For you.”
Fingertips dance seduction along the flat of the blade, provoking a flare of suppressed heat in Beckett’s eyes. Jack smiles. “What say you to a trade, mate?”
“This here Letter of Marque…” Deftly, he picks it up. “In exchange for what you want most in the world.”
Jack’s expression turns devilish, purposefully sinful. “Me, of course.”