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Standard fanfic disclaimer #642 – They own this, I don’t. I make no money, they do.
It’s not fair but that’s life.
Still Stranded
Captain Jack Sparrow sat on the cool grey sand in the almost dark and stared blindly at the dark sea. Up and down the beach another, the third time, and the barrel containing Will was still missing. It was worse than tragedy.
If he ever got his hands on that Charlotte, her pretty little neck would be wrung until Anamaria shot him and put him out of his misery.
He had food. He had shelter. There was an almost full barrel of fresh water. He’d even run across a small cask of rum. All the essentials of life. But he wanted none of it. Because the one thing he really needed to live was missing.
He closed his eyes and pictured Will as he’d last seen him in the captain’s cabin on The Black Pearl.
The boy had looked so vulnerable. He’d accepted Jack’s apology, claimed he understood how Jack could neglect to tell Will about his father’s miraculous survival. The anger had melted away before Jack’s eyes, a bloody miracle. He even looked as though he might be willing to let Jack start anew with him. And then, with only the top part of his head visible, he blurted out that last confession.
Will had desired Jack all along.
And now it was too late. He hadn’t even had the chance to give Will a kiss goodbye.
Jack threw himself back on the sand and stared up at the almost starless sky. “So bleak,” he said aloud. “So very dismal-like without you, Will.”
His injured shoulder smarted when it hit the beach. Jack could feel bits of sand working their way into the wound there. Itching, scraping, opening the jagged gash wider. He cared not. What did the injury to his shoulder matter when Will was lost?
And what if that damned Commodore Bloody Norrington hadn’t appeared just then? Will would have made his confession. He would have stood before Jack in his cabin, one hand fiddling with the ragged cuff of his shirt, head down looking sheepish. He would have confessed. “I called out your name, instead of hers. I called for you, Jack, because you’re the only one I really want.”
Jack couldn’t help a small smile at the thought. He would have stepped forward, taken the lad in his arms, gently. This wouldn’t be about sex. It would be about something more... leading, of course, to sex. He would hold Will tenderly, rub his hands soothingly over Will’s back until his trembling ceased, kiss him lightly on the forehead and tell him to fret no longer, they were together now, forever.
No, that was too simple, too bland.
He would take Will in his arms, capture his lips in a deep, long kiss. He would explore that soft, dark cavern until Will was whimpering, no, purring in his arms. Then he would lead that lithe, strong body to the bed and lay him down ever so urgently. He’d rip the shirt right down the front. He could afford to buy Will a dozen much nicer shirts, soft silk to caress his lovely golden skin. And once Will’s hard, heaving chest was exposed Jack would attack it vigorously with his mouth, sucking and biting on luscious peaked nipples. Will would writhe under him like a cat, thrusting upwards begging for more.
Jack would kiss him again, ravaging his mouth, whilst removing the rest of Will’s clothing and his own. The first time they would be fully naked with each other. Jack would pull Will against him, skin to skin, wrap his arms and legs around him, nipples and bellies and cocks rubbing against each other, making them moan in unison. Jack would reach between their bodies, a tight fit, and wrap his fingers around both their erections, and set a steady, devastating pace that would make Will cry out in delight. And they would come together, their mingled seeds splashing against their stomachs in a warm splash of release.
Not bloody likely. The lad wasn’t about to go hopping into bed with him that fast, was he?
More probable, he would react from the heart. He would, indeed, take the boy in his arms. That was a given. And he would kiss him, on the mouth, but not an aggressive, ravishing kiss. He would kiss him softly, slowly, and with great emotion. And he would profess his frighteningly strong feelings to the boy.
“Will, I know this might be hard for you to believe. I know you have a dreadful low opinion of pirates, but this pirate has another confession to make. I love you, Will, like I’ve never loved another in my life.”
But he wouldn’t, would he? Because they weren’t in his cabin. And only Jack was on this desolate island. And there was no way of knowing where Will was.
And Jack felt something, he wasn’t sure what it was, something on his cheek. Then he realized it was a tear. And he’d not cried in such a very long time, it was a shock to him.
He closed his eyes again, trying to stop the tears, to block their way. But they leaked out anyway. The salty tears wended their way down to the corner of his mouth, and when he flicked his tongue out to catch one, the bitter taste was too much to take.
He was dead, or as close to it as you could get without your heart stopping. He couldn’t feel his heart. Because his heart was broken.
He retreated into his fantasy world, where fantasy-Will looks him in the eye and gives him one of those shy, naïve, and utterly irresistible smiles. Jack waits for him to speak, waits for him to answer, “Jack, I feel the same way.”
That’s what he longed to hear. But Will doesn’t speak. He just looks at Jack, with moist, chocolaty brown eyes. He makes a faint sound, as if from far away. A low sigh as if carried on the wind.
Jack sat up, suddenly. He didn’t imagine that. He scrunched his eyes closed tight as if that will make him hear better.
There it was again.
A faint moan, seeming to come from further inland. Jack got up and ran in the direction of the sound, frightened of what he might find, yet desperate to find it. He stumbled over a collection of splintered barrel staves and stubbed his toe painfully on the hilt of a sword. Just a bit further, he could barely see a faint track in the sand, the light was so poor now.
He pushed aside some undergrowth and there, behind a boulder, on his stomach, lay Will Turner.
Jack dropped to his knees and gently rolled Will over onto his back. He winced at the groan Will emitted, could feel a wet wound on Will’s temple, but even though the boy was shivering slightly in the night breeze, his body was still warm.
“Will, it’s Jack. Can you hear me?” Jack kept his voice down. There wasn’t anyone to disturb, he just didn’t want to alarm Will.
Will groaned again. “Jack? Where am I?” He reached up blindly and grasped Jack’s shoulder.
Jack gasped in pain as Will’s fingers ground the sand painfully into his shoulder wound. Will snatched his hand back and tried to sit up. He failed miserably, tumbling back to the ground in a dizzy heap.
“I’m sorry,” he stuttered, “I was... I didn’t know...”
Jack welcomed the pain. He was alive again, it didn’t matter how much it hurt.
“Not a problem, mate, don’t worry about me. It’s you I’m worried for. Let me see that wound on yer head.” He slid his good arm under Will’s shoulders, splaying his fingers out under his shoulder. Broad, thick shoulder. Hmmm. He gently probed the cut on Will’s temple. “Not so bad. We’ll clean it up and you’ll be right as rain.”
Jack wriggled around so his knees were under Will, supporting his weight. He encircled the prone man with both arms and laid a soft kiss on his forehead. “It’s okay now, Will. We’re together.”
Will sighed. “I was so frightened Jack. I hit the beach and the barrel just splintered. I rode on a wave and crashed onto the shore. It happened so fast. I thought you broke up on the rocks. I suppose I crawled up here for shelter.” Will turned his head and pressed his forehead against Jack’s chest. “I was so scared you were dead.”
Jack stroked his hair, marvelling at the silkiness of it. He breathed deep, salt air, the scent of the palms and underbrush, and the delightful nutmeg and vanilla of Will Turner.
“I drifted further along the shore before I hit rock. You must have been up here before I came ashore. All that worry for nothing, eh? You forgot the most important thing.”
Will squinted up at him through the gloom. “What’s that?”
Jack grinned, bursting with joy. “I’m Captain Jack Sparrow!”
Will gave a small laugh, wincing a little at the pain it produced in his head. “How could I forget?” he murmured. “How silly of me.”
Jack kissed him again, this time on the mouth. He didn’t want to push too far, and was concentrating on being a perfect gentleman, but Will’s tongue pressed insistently against his lips, so he felt it was only polite to part them and allow the boy entrance.
Will’s tongue swirled around Jack’s mouth, filling him with yet more desire. Jack let his hand wander down the side of Will’s face, his long neck and torso, coming to rest on the slight curve of his waist. They stayed like that for a long time, drinking in each other.
When they finally parted, Will was more than a bit breathless. Jack couldn’t remember what breathing was.
“I wish I could see you better.”
Jack inhaled sharply when he heard this, suddenly finding the power to breathe again. He wished he could see Will too. He could imagine how he looked, clothes torn to reveal tantalizing bits of smooth skin, hair a mass of saltwater soaked curls, eyes wide with relief and what was that? God, he hoped it was lust. “In the mornin’, lad. In the meantime, you need some shuteye, as tempting as the thought of kissing you all night might be. You need some rest after that bump. I’ll go get us some clean fresh water so we can wash these wounds of ours ‘fore we sleep.”
Jack moved to get up but found Will’s hand gripping his sleeve.
“You won’t leave me, will you, Jack?”
Jack smiled. “Never, Will. Never.”
Next: Chapter 23 Day One
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