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Disney owns the rights to this. I make no profit. I just have fun. Is there a law against that?
Wild With Desire
Wasn’t there some way Captain Jack Sparrow could make this damned ship go any faster? He’d had enough of a delay with the time he’d had to spend rounding up his crew, in assorted states of drunken debauchery and recreational stupors - they hadn’t hauled anchor until almost dawn.
Tessie claimed it was a two-day trip to Port Royal, but Jack knew he could make it in a day and a half. He’d get there just after nightfall on the second day if all went well. His frantic pacing and yelling of orders escalated until Gibbs intervened.
“We can handle this, Captain. We’ll get you there faster than any other ship on the ocean, but not if you keep up like that. You want another mutiny? It’s bad luck to cut off their shore leave, don’t make it worse.” Gibbs shoved Jack into the captain’s quarters, like an errant schoolboy.
Blast, this was worse than being on deck. He could still feel how slowly they were moving, even if it was faster than any other ship. But he couldn’t do anything other than sit at the table and drink, or lie on the bed and think. Neither one a particularly wise course of action.
“Will, you didn’t marry the girl. Please, let it be because of me,” he muttered drunkenly at about midnight. It had been twenty-four hours, give or take, since his heart had leapt out of his chest when he found out the wench had married the Commodore instead of his Will.
Sprawled out on his bed, the captain’s bed, Captain Jack Sparrow sighed heavily. Who wouldn’t want to be the lover of a self-made man, the captain of his own ship, a loveable rogue such as himself?
All he wanted was to look into those chocolate eyes, stroke those carved-from-marble cheeks, run his fingers through silken curls. Was that too much to ask?
He wanted to hear that smooth, lyrical voice again, watch those soft lips move as the words tumbled out, maybe catch a glimpse of a wet pink tongue. Surely, that wasn’t too much to ask.
He wanted to run his fingers over smooth, firm chest muscles, stroke hardening nipples under his fingertips, hear - no feel - the low inexorable purr of Will Turner becoming sexually aroused.
Perhaps that was a bit much to ask. After all, he was a cad for bedding both the father and son. There was a decade between the two, however, and the resemblance was uncanny. Deliciously uncanny. Jack stripped off his shirt and waist wrap, opened his pants, and settled in for another not-quite-satisfying session of imagining Will Turner.
There he stood, on deck. The ship was deserted. Will wore nothing but a pair of oh-so-delightfully tight trousers. His chest almost glowed in the moonlight, a light sheen of sweat picking out the contours and highlights beautifully. He smiled shyly at Jack and reached out his hand.
Lovely, big strong blacksmith’s hands. Rough in a pleasant way. Long, powerful fingers. Jack looked down. Lovely long toes too. He was possessed by the urge to make them curl.
Ah, how convenient. A sail folded, lying on the deck, waiting to be used as a comfortable bed. Excellent things, these fantasies. Will lay back on the sail bed, chestnut hair spreading around him in rich waves. Jack knelt down and buried his face in the silky tresses. Hmm, deep breath in and the scent of spicy vanilla, getting stronger as he moved his nose further down to nuzzle Will’s graceful neck. One quick lick and Will was purring. Enchanting.
He ran his hand over tight arm muscles and his tongue across Will’s elegant collarbone. So strong, but so finely sculpted. Just perfect. His hands sank into tumbling locks and he pulled Will forward to capture his lips in a searing kiss. (One always kissed searingly in a fantasy.) When Jack pulled back he looked deep into Will’s chocolate eyes.
“Jack, please,” Will moaned. “Please, don’t ever leave me again. Say you’ll be mine forever.”
Jack sat up, startled. This wasn’t his fantasy Will. Fantasy Will would have said, “Please, Jack, I need you inside me right now.” Or “Fuck me rotten, Jack”. Or “Let’s have a proper sword fight now,” and waggle his eyebrows in a comically seductive manner. Not ask for pledges of eternal commitment.
Jack tucked his cock back into his pants. The moment was spoiled. This was going to be a long night.
Will Turner pulled the red-hot sword and laid it across the anvil. He’d been working from dawn to dusk without a break, and he’d not slept much the night before. His customary impure thoughts had been accompanied by a strange prickling sensation. He tingled all over. As if something was about to happen.
He glared down at the sword. A commission for that bastard Norrington. He was such a smug bugger, that Norrington. He never actually said anything to Will about Elizabeth changing her mind, but Norrington made sure Will knew that the Commodore was the chosen one every time they encountered one another.
Will brought his hammer down on the too-brittle steel. The sword shattered, shards falling on the dirt floor. Damn, that was the end of work for tonight.
Will went out the back door to the rain barrel and, after looking around to see that no one was watching, took off his shirt to splash the cool, refreshing liquid over his face, chest and arms. That was better.
He was determined to get some sleep tonight, and to do that he would have to chase all thoughts of a certain pirate out of his mind. He’d been thinking about it for some time, and tonight he would finally do it.
He would visit one of the brothels down by the warehouse district.
Captain Jack Sparrow could barely contain himself when the Black Pearl dropped anchor on the other side of a tall rock outcropping, not far from the harbour of Port Royal. It would take a while to row around, but he couldn’t risk the Black Pearl being seen. The whole crew was sure Norrington had it in for them, and Jack agreed.
He wasn’t sure what he would say, how he would approach the boy. But tonight was the night. He used the time rowing to imagine various scenarios but they all seemed to end in ridiculous proclamations of love and commitment. If he couldn’t find the boy, he promised himself, he would at least get laid, if only to put his mind back to order.
Will approached the seediest part of town with caution. There were several houses of ill repute. He’d been listening to gossip from various clients and rough looking characters for a while, so he knew where to look. They all looked appallingly squalid and intimidating. But he chose one and marched forward. It would be worth it to get a good’s night sleep.
He was immediately surrounded by women when he entered the door. They ran their hands through his hair, pawed at his chest, someone squeezed his left bicep, another pinched his right buttock. His head reeled. An older woman came out of the back room and shooed the girls away.
“Well, a right fine looking man you are, aren’t you? What can we do for you this evening?” She smiled at him kindly, sensing this was his first time, and hoping the girls hadn’t frightened him a way. Not that you could blame them; it wasn’t often a select specimen like this one walked in the door.
“Well, I um, that is, I would like to, ah…” Will felt himself blushing, and all the girls made little cooing sounds when they saw the pink rise up his cheeks. So fresh and young and innocent.
“Like some pleasant company for the night then, well, take your pick.” The madam swept her hand in the direction of the now-giggling whores. “Tell you what, let me pick for you.” If she let him choose they might be here all night before he got up the nerve.
Will followed a pale redhead wearing a very low-cut bottle green dress up the stairs. He had no idea why he’d thought this would help. It was only making him nervous and he felt no desire for the woman. Perhaps when she got started he would be able to reciprocate.
Jack was more than disappointed when, after what seemed like hours of rowing and lurking around in the dark, dodging soldiers and passers-by, he made it to the blacksmith shop, only to find it boarded up tight for the night. He worried that the boy might have left town after not marrying the strumpet. But with the shop locked he couldn’t check, and his discrete knocks on the door had not brought an answer.
He couldn’t very well pound on the door and demand entry in a town where he was most likely wanted. He might have to find a quiet place to wait for morning. He circled the building and found the rain barrel, with the ground around it still damp from Will’s ablutions.
“What’s this then?” he murmured as he spied Will’s sweat soaked shirt, discarded on a crate beside the barrel. He raised the damp clothing to his face and inhaled deeply.
God, yes, it was the boy’s. Sweat from a long day of labour and the spicy aroma of the one and only Will Turner. Jack’s cock hardened instantly. He rubbed the coarse fabric over his face. Yes, it was Will’s; it couldn’t be anyone else’s. He stuffed the shirt inside his own and rubbed it against his chest, nipples tingling from the contact.
There was no way he could wait till morning. His cock was throbbing painfully just from smelling the lad’s shirt. Waiting outside in the dark when Will might be sleeping inside, that would be sheer torture. Bloody blacksmiths, you can’t break into their shops. He’d have to come back at dawn.
In the meantime, he figured he’d find the disreputable part of town, get himself a drink of rum, and maybe even a willing whore with a friendly mouth. It wouldn’t really be cheating on Will. After all, he didn’t even know if Will wanted him. It would just be a way of releasing some tension. Just a mouth. He hobbled awkwardly down the back alley, in search of the seedy part of town. Probably not far from the docks.
There it was. There were a few likely candidates. Jack picked the closest one. It was a bit fancy and swanky for his taste, but he was in a hurry. The scent from Will’s shirt, still nestled against Jack’s chest, rising as the garment warmed against his skin, was driving him wild with desire.
Will found himself with his arms full of redhead, his mouth full of the redhead’s tongue, and no desire to continue at all. She had, he supposed, an attractive enough figure, which he couldn’t help but notice since she was pressing her breasts up against him, placing his hands on them, urging him to give her a good squeeze. But he couldn’t stop his mind from wandering to Jack Sparrow’s hard, flat chest, browned by the sun and gleaming with sweat. Flat, hard nipples were just so much more appealing to him.
The redhead grabbed his hand and placed it around her waist, on her delightfully plump bottom.
Will had never got the chance to grab Jack’s arse, but he knew it would be firmer than this, that he would feel the muscle under the skin flex under his hand.
Will found himself backing away.
Captain Jack Sparrow followed a deliciously buxom young lady with bright scarlet lips down a narrow hallway. The tart giggled when he gave her bottom a playful slap.
“Just wait till we get to the room, luv,” she sighed and quivered artfully. Then she stopped in front of a closed door, after hearing sounds of discord.
A shrill voice that made Jack grimace came from behind the door. “Come on love, you’ve paid and there ain’t no money-back policy here, so let’s just let’s get on with it, eh?”
“I’m sorry, it’s just not, not what I really want. You can keep the money, I’ll just go.”
The second voice was lower, smoother, and made the hairs on Jack’s neck stand on end.
The door flew open and Will Turner spilled into the hallway, right into Jack Sparrow’s arms.
He looked at Jack with wide, dark eyes and stuttered. “Oh, my God! Jack. I, uh. This isn’t what. I mean, I’ve never…”
Jack leered lasciviously for a moment only, and then his smirk was washed away by relief at finally having the object of his lust and desire in his arms. He tightened said arms around the lad and leaned his body up against Will’s. Just a hard yet pliant as before, but with even more muscle on his lissome frame. Perfect.
“S’okay, luv, it’s a free port. You can do what you like. I won’t lie to you, though. I’d much prefer it if you did it with me,” the pirate drawled.
Will jumped back. He had to push hard to get the pirate to let go of him. “What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t know if you noticed, mate,” Jack whispered with a conspiratorial tone to his voice, “But you appear to be smack in the middle of a house of ill-repute. Now, you may be here on a social call, but I construe a somewhat more salacious motive, savvy? And if this lovely young thing,” he motioned to the redhead, “can’t satisfy you, I thought that I might, perhaps, be able to help.”
“Well, you thought wrong!” Will could not believe this rogue’s presumptuousness. Assuming that he wanted Jack. Assuming that he would want Jack at all after Jack had hurt him like that!
Jack grinned. Ah yes, the old, proper, indignant Will Turner he knew and lusted after.
It was going to be fun, seducing the whelp all over again, Jack thought as he rushed through the city’s darkened streets after Will’s hastily retreating figure.
But seduce him he would.
Next: All Tessie's Children I
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