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Of course I didn’t make up all these characters. Some of them belong to other people.
No infringement intended – I’m just having a bit of a giggle, savvy?
Anticipation
Now that Captain Jack Sparrow stood on the deck of a ship again, he felt much better than he had in days. It wasn’t that he didn’t appreciate the hospitality of Alphonse’s sister; he just preferred the steady motion and security only a ship could offer. It wasn’t the Black Pearl. It was much smaller than the Pearl, but he could live with that. At least tonight he would get some rest, anchored off the rocky shore of this little island Will’s new stepsister called home.
Kay was very nice, he thought to himself. She took him, a notorious pirate, into her home happily. She understood completely when he declined the offer of a bed upstairs. She gave him a place to sleep outdoors, so even if he couldn’t feel the ocean under him at least he could smell the breeze coming from the bay. And most of all, she took care of Will.
The boy had lost far too much weight during their time on the island. Jack suspected he’d been giving over the best of the food, but Will wouldn’t admit it. And he’d been doing all that running around, taking care of Jack, it made the pirate feel guilty. But when he tried to take the blame he’d been thoroughly hushed by the motherly Kay.
She’d set about fussing over the two of them immediately. First she insisted they strip down so she could wash their clothes properly. Will and Jack sat in the parlour awkwardly, wrapped in sheets, waiting for her to return with a pair of her husband’s trousers for Will to wear, and a pair of Alphonse’s for Jack. So they spent the better part of the day with Will swimming in trousers far too big, and Jack hoping against all hope they would fall down, and Jack sitting very still in pants a little too tight for comfort. Because, although they did not actually fall, Franklin’s trousers hung perilously low on Will’s slim hips. And there was that curve, just below the waist, that was begging to be licked, but Jack didn’t dare.
Kay spent a good deal of time cleaning and dressing Jack’s shoulder wounds, full of praise for Will’s careful care of the whole mess, and then her baby cried for her, and that left the two half-dressed men sitting in the kitchen with a pan of warm water, several clean clothes and an uncomfortable silence.
Jack broke the stillness by kneeling down beside Will. “Let me, after all you took such good care of me,” he said, taking one of Will’s feet in his hands. It was cut in several places, from Will traipsing around the rocky island barefoot searching for fresh water. Jack wrung a cloth in the basin and began to gently clean the wounds. “I wish you hadn’t done that.”
“What?”
“Sacrificed so much, and not told me how much you were sacrificing. You’re so skinny, look at you.”
Will turned his head, as if Jack wouldn’t be able to see him if he couldn’t see Jack. He wasn’t hazardously skinny, but his face was more angular, his ribs more visible, his eyes a little sunken. He looked tired.
Jack continued cleaning Will’s feet, he couldn’t seem to stop even when he was finished. He held one foot in his hand and ran his fingers up, around the ankle, over the heel, underneath, Will squirmed in his chair.
“Stop.”
Jack leaned down and placed a single kiss on the instep. Will’s foot twitched. But he didn’t pull it away.
“I didn’t want anything bad to happen to you, that’s why I did it. Took care of you.” Will reached down to pat Jack’s hair. His fingers lingered over Jack’s headscarf, on top of the scar Will now knew lay beneath. “You were injured. You could have…”
Jack shrugged, but not enough to dislodge Will’s hand. “You too. That was a nasty cut on your head, lad. But we’re both alive, we’re both relatively healthy, and we can get on with things.”
Doubtful. That was the word to describe the look on Will’s face. Doubtful.
“Look, mate, we didn’t have much time to talk on the way here, what with Alphonse being a constant presence. But I need to tell you,” Jack hesitated. He wasn’t sure what to tell Will. He wasn’t sure what Will wanted to hear.
Will looked down at him sharply, waiting, watching. Eyebrow crease deepening.
Jack gave his most ingratiating smile. “No need to be vexed. I’m only trying to reassure you, like.” His words only served to deepen the crease so much that Jack had to take a deep breath to steady himself. “I’m sorry I shocked you, eh. You didn’t have to run away, we could have talked about it.” Jack bit his lip. He shouldn’t make it seem as if he was blaming Will for anything. He should take full responsibility. It was just that he’d never really taken responsibility for his actions before, and was finding it a challenge.
The fingers swept back, stroking through his hair. Jack leaned back into them like a cat. Will was stroking him. On the boat Will had put his arm around him. He’d even slept beside him in the open, pressing against him in the cold early hours. But he hadn’t kissed him, or stroked him or any of the other things Jack thought he might die if Will didn’t do. And now he was stroking Jack’s hair.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to touch me, Jack.” Will sounded so young, voice so soft. “I do. I’m just, well, I don’t know if that sort of thing is what I want. And don’t ask how I know if I haven’t tried it. I know that, but I need some time to think about this. It’s all happened so fast, and now I have this family and my father and you and I’m a little,” he paused, sighing delightfully, or at least Jack thought so. “I’m a little overwhelmed.”
Jack curved his neck just so, and Will’s fingers dug deep to touch his scalp. “S’alright, mate. We have time.” He let his head drop so he could press his lips to Will’s knee. “I promise, on my honour, I will not do anything to you, I will not touch you, in any way you don’t want me to. I won’t force you to do anything, Will.” The coarse trouser material scratched his lips. A muscled jumped in Will’s leg when Jack laid his face against it. Will traced a finger along Jack’s cheek.
“Your ship will return soon. I expect you’ll want to be underway as soon as possible.” Will cleared his throat. “Perhaps it’s best if we didn’t, I mean, if you’re going to leave soon.”
Jack straightened up abruptly, hands on Will’s shoulders. Bare shoulders. Broad, bare shoulders. Hmmm. “Will, luv, I’ll not be leaving here without you.”
Will looked away again. “I don’t know if I want to leave here. I don’t know what I want.”
Jack moved to kiss his mouth, but Will shied away. Jack settled for kissing his shoulder. That was good too. Not good enough, but it would have to suffice. “I’ll be staying until you decide.”
But Will had not decided. He was affectionate toward Jack, smiling at him shyly often and letting Jack put an arm around him, but he had not let anything else occur. And Jack was beginning to feel the strain of it.
When Alphonse rowed him out to his ship, Jack did consider taking it. Just sailing away. That’s what a pirate would do. That’s what Captain Jack Sparrow would do. But as he stood on the ship, the only person on the ship, alone with a ship and the ocean, he could not haul anchor.
He tried to tell himself it was because his shoulder was too sore. He didn’t have the strength to pull it up. Then he had to admit it was a different kind of strength entirely that he lacked. He could not sail away from Will.
“This must be a test,” he muttered out loud. “They’re testing me to see how much of a pirate I am. If I take the ship, I’m not good enough for their precious brother.”
He swayed as the deck rocked in the waves. His legs relaxed, rolling with the motion, his back straightened, and he gazed out at the sun setting on the clear horizon.
No, Kay sent him out to the ship because this is where he belonged. And it had been such a long time since he’d slept properly. And because it would be easier for him to sleep out here alone than on the veranda, knowing that Will was sleeping alone upstairs.
Jack threw himself down onto the deck to stare up at the darkening sky and think about Will Turner sleeping. He slept with his mouth open a little, features relaxed. Jack had seen it often enough. His hair spread out around his face when he slept, wild curls so soft and fragrant. When it got cold he snuggled close, and he usually slept with his limbs entwined with Jack’s, pressing up against him. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, Jack had awoken with a lovely hard cock poking his stomach or hip, and Will rubbing against him in his sleep. He missed that terribly.
Jack’s hand strayed down to his cock, which had immediately started to stiffen when he pictured Will asleep. When they were alone and naked, it was nothing for Jack’s hand to close around Will’s cock, to stroke him to full hardness while he still slept, making him purr in his sleep. Once he even had Will’s cock deep in his throat before Will woke with a loud groan. Jack tightened his grip on his cock at the memory.
He remembered the time he had woken with Will’s fingers stroking him to hardness, the mischievous smile on Will’s face, the first time Will had chosen to wake him like that.
“Good morning.” Soft low tones made Jack shiver. “I hope you don’t mind; it looked as if you needed some attention.” God, if only every early-morning erection could be resolved by the strong but gentle fingers of Will Turner.
Jack moaned and stroked from base to head, letting his fingertips glide over silken skin. It would never be as good as Will’s mouth, but he had to do something. He hadn’t touched himself or been touched for days. There were people around, Will and Kay and Alphonse and Franklin, and when they weren’t around there were always children to worry about. They popped up everywhere, all the time.
And the temptation of Will was constant. He was working around the property constantly, helping Kay’s husband fix things and build things and do all those things Jack had no idea how to do. Although he kept one of Franklin’s too-large shirts on at all times, the sleeves were rolled up high, and straining forearms exposed, and the ties at the neck were often undone, so it even drooped off his shoulder at times showing a razorsharp collarbone or even, on one memorable morning, a dusky nipple.
Will went about barefoot most of the time. His shoes were lost when he landed on the beach and spare boots were dear. When working in dangerous areas he borrowed Jack’s boots, and when he returned them Jack would put them on immediately, eager to feel Will’s warmth in the leather. The rest of the time, Jack was tormented by the sight of shapely ankles and lovely slim toes and the memory of leaning down to kiss the top of Will’s foot in what? Affection? Supplication? Love?
Jack reached beneath his shirt to stroke over a nipple. Will loved to suck his nipples, he reminded himself eagerly. He concentrated, trying to recall the sensation of hot, soft lips closing around him. His other hand dipped lower to stroke his balls, to coax them into relieving themselves of their load faster. Jack needed the release desperately. He needed to let go of all this feverish yearning for at least a few seconds. His breath hitched as the aroma of nutmeg and vanilla washed over him.
It was the scent of Will, and it came to him as he approached his climax because it was the only smell he could associate with satisfaction, so he breathed it in deeply and groaned Will’s name in both frustration and passion.
“Good Evening, Jack.”
Crisp, clean, refined tones. A little too formal for a fantasy. Jack opened one eye, just a crack, to see Will Turner standing on deck beside him.
Next: Chapter 28 It Was The Kohl
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