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If the characters really did this stuff in the movie it would not have been rated for kids.
It would have been rated smut. So it’s a good thing this is just for fun.
It Was The Kohl
Will Turner stood on the deck of his stepbrother’s ship, arms crossed over his chest with a vaguely disapproving look marring his face. Captain Jack Sparrow sprawled on his back a few feet away, struggling to shove his obviously and inconveniently erect penis back into his pants and recover at the very least a modicum of dignity from the rather awkward situation.
“I, eh, was under the impression I was all by my onesie,” Jack muttered as he pulled himself to standing. He listed to one side, shifting his slim hips, trying to get his cock to settle in a less torturous position. But the persistent organ refused to calm, and remained pointed almost directly vertical, bent just a little to the left, which gave Jack’s body a distinct lean to the right in his attempt to avoid too much pressure on it.
Will didn’t know if he should be shocked or flattered. After all, it was Will’s name he heard Jack moaning as he climbed on board.
On the other hand, he couldn’t stop an old familiar twinge of repulsion at the pirate’s lack of self-control and his outrageous presumption.
If he’d had a third hand, he would have considered how utterly debauched and stunning the pirate had looked as he fisted his hard cock, and how his musky scent filled the air, and how, with his eyes squeezed shut in concentration and Will’s name tumbling from his inviting lips, he looked so much like he had so often when they were stranded together.
But he didn’t think that. He was very careful NOT to think of that. He schooled his features to show no emotion. Less emotion. Well, somewhat less emotion.
“I came to fetch some salt for Kay.” Will’s tones were crisp, cutting through the evening air like his sword. “She said Alphonse had some on board.”
Jack recalled the small keg Alphonse had grabbed before he rowed back to shore. Come to think of it, the preacher had made quite a show of it, rambling on about pickling spices and Kay’s skill with brine of various sorts. Made sure Jack saw him load the cask onto his rowboat. A sly grin played around Jack’s lips, curling his moustache up just so.
Set up by the sister. Interesting.
He straightened his trousers a little and leaned against the mast, nonchalant like. “Alphonse already brought it back for her,” he drawled, watching Will’s response carefully. “Seems he’s quite fond of pickles. As am I.”
If Will noticed the double entendre he didn’t show it. He looked about the deck restlessly, uncertain as to how to proceed.
“Well, it seems I’ve wasted the trip.”
Jack just lounged against the mast, finding a perverse pleasure in Will’s discomfort. He’d spent the better part of the week receiving mixed signals of all sorts, having his hopes raised and dashed with such regularity that he thought the only solution would be to get so thoroughly drunk he would become numb. This was like a little revenge, making the lad sweat like that.
He stood watching, watching Will shift back and forth, the toes of his bare feet kneading the weathered planks of the deck, eyes darting, and… wait for it… ah, yes, pink tongue flicking out nervously to wet those luscious lips.
He’d been anticipating that, thus he was able to hold in the moan of appreciation.
“I should head back before it gets too dark, then,” Will said suddenly, his voice sounding uncertain.
“Not at all, mate. Have a sit down, make yerself at home.” Jack gestured toward the ample space on deck. It was a small ship, but plenty of room for two grown men to sit and socialize. Jack wished it were even smaller, so he’d have an excuse to move closer to Will.
“I don’t wish to disturb your…” Will hesitated. So adorable when he hesitated. And not sure where to look. He tried the water, but it was too dark to see anything there, so that looked a bit daft. He looked up, but it was a touch overcast, in spite of the warmth of the evening, so the stars weren’t really very visible. Will looked down at his feet. “...your rest.”
Was that a little smirk, hiding behind the discomfort? Excellent! Nice to see Will still had some of that spark in him. He’d been so busy being bloody decent, Jack was beginning to think he’d reverted to utter propriety and dullness.
No, Will could never be dull. That was an impossibility. Jack gazed at the boy fondly. Far too beautiful to ever be dull. And far too beautiful to be estranged from. He had resolved to do this on the boy’s schedule, but his determination was failing him. It was time to tempt fate.
“They sent me out to the ship,” His hand stroked the mast fondly, “So I could sleep better. But I’ll be honest with you, lad, I can sleep just fine on land if I want to. It’s you I’ve been missing, not the sea.”
There. It was out in the open where it belonged.
Will’s features softened, and a searing pain or pleasure, Jack couldn’t tell which, rippled through his heart. Then Will raised his eyes and looked Jack in the eye for the first time that evening.
What he saw stunned him.
It was the kohl. Jack’s eyes were not, as usual, rimmed with the thick, irregular black smudge he’d grown accustomed to. They were lined, almost delicately, with even borders all the way around both upper and lower lids, dark solid black applied with a delicate and practiced hand. The two lines met at the outer corner with a hint of an upward curve, extending beyond the actual eye. They made Jack’s eyes look impossibly wide. Inconceivably dark. Positively feline.
And filled with desire, although it wasn’t the kohl that bred the desire in them.
Jack’s eyes were burning into Will, raking over his open shirt collar, exposed lower arms, untied hair and blushing cheeks. When they met Will’s eyes they saw the astonishment there.
Ah, yes. The sister again. She’d accosted him behind the house, just before suggesting he spend the night on the ship. ‘Let me do your eyes, I love kohl and Franklin hates it when I wear it. It’s been ever so long since I’ve been allowed. Marina taught me how, honest. Just this once, Jack. Indulge me.’ Sneaky, disingenuous and thoroughly lovable Will’s sister. Clever too.
Jack smiled. “What do you think? Your sister thought she’d ‘ave a go at me with me kohl.”
Will just swallowed, aching to get some kind of moisture into his parched throat, and stared into indisputably smouldering feline eyes. “It’s very, um, pretty.” Pretty? He couldn’t think of a better word than pretty? Will was certain he’d just shown himself to be a complete idiot.
Pretty. Jack couldn’t remember ever being called pretty. But then, the lad was referring to the kohl, not Jack. He sidled closer to Will, just for the sake of it.
“Well, to tell you the truth, it’s a bit fiddly for my taste, but she seemed to think it was rather fetching.” He gave one of those winning Jack Sparrow smiles.
“Fetching,” Will repeated, dumbly. He couldn’t really think well, not with Jack so close to him, the smell of him washing over Will like a tide.
Both men breathed in deeply, tasting the air.
Jack reached out first. He ran one finger through Will’s hair, tucking an errant curl behind an ear. His fingertip resonated with something so sweet it hurt.
“Did I ever tell you,” he asked, trying to sound casual and failing but not caring, his voice ragged at the edges with need, “how much I love to touch your hair?” He let all his fingers sink into decadent silk strands. “How much I miss touching your hair?”
Either Will’s hair had just grown nerve endings, or there was some kind of energy in the air. Will felt the warmth of Jack’s hands before skin touched his tingling scalp.
He was still worried. Still anxious about what Jack really wanted of him. Still unsure about parts of his body he really didn’t want to think about. But if he was going to be truly honest, it wasn’t that Jack wanted it that made him so nervous. It was the fact that Will wanted it.
He leaned into Jack’s touch at the same time his hand shot up to grasp Jack’s wrist, pushed his fingers up Jack’s arm, felt the papery skin of the pirate brand under them, felt the throbbing of Jack’s pulse under the tanned skin.
Will remembered Jack’s promise to not force him into anything. What, he wondered, was the word of a pirate really worth?
Jack stopped all movement, even breathing, until he could ascertain whether Will was pushing him away or drawing him near. Such a fine line, he mused. The fingers burned his forearm. The hair between his fingers was liquid. His own hair on the back of his neck prickled with tension.
Will leaned in and caught Jack’s lips with his. Good choice. Except Jack had been holding his breath for so long he had to suck the air out of Will’s lungs, but that seemed to draw the lithe body closer to him. Nature abhors a vacuum, which isn’t such a bad thing after all.
With his back against the mast, Will plastered against his front: Jack hadn’t felt this good in over a week. Fresh air was overrated anyway. He’d take it second-hand from young Mr. Turner any day. Especially when he had to suck it in around that squirming, wriggling tongue. Nutmeg, vanilla and Will.
Will pulled his lips away, but kept his forehead firmly pressed against Jack’s, lashes down, mouth open. “Jack,” he panted, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m so…”
No, no, you just kissed me so hard I felt it in my spine, don’t be sorry!
“Inexperienced?” Jack suggested out loud, gently, willing himself to stay calm. “No big to-do, luv, we’ll work it all out, eh? Just do what you think you’ll enjoy, savvy?”
Will pulled his head back, looking Jack in the eye. What was this, now? Not the shy, inexperienced young virgin. That, Jack would have testified under oath, was a predatory look.
Will slithered down Jack’s body, nipping and licking as he went. Jack’s pants were still rather open from his earlier activities, and it took no time at all for Will to free his by-now painfully hard cock. He lapped at the tip of it thirstily.
Jesus, that was a fast decision, Jack thought dazedly, sinking his fists into masses of chestnut curls. He raked his fingers through Will’s hair, revelling in the texture, and spread his legs wider, pushing his hips against the mast to keep himself from fucking the boy’s mouth. Will’s fingers were spread over his thighs, almost digging in, eyes shut in concentration, mouth stretched open to take more of Jack’s cock into his hot mouth than he’d ever taken before.
“Will, oh God, you’re going to kill me,” he moaned as Will’s hair bounced around the back of his hands with the pistoning movement of his head. The pressure built so quickly Jack was afraid he would explode. This was too fast, too much at once; he was drunk on it, dizzy from it, weak.
Will slowed his pace, and drew his lips up the thick shaft, letting them trail wetly across velvet skin. His tongue snaked out, tracing around the head. He moaned low, vibrating around the swollen flesh. His hands crept around Jack’s legs, until they gripped the hard backs of Jack’s thighs, just below his arse. Will licked down the length of Jack’s cock, then buried his nose in glossy black curls, breathing in the scent.
Jack took in a shuddering long breath. He brushed soft tresses and they fell maddeningly on his cock, feathery and teasing. He gripped his fingers over the hair, around his cock, dragging silk over his oversensitive skin. Will moaned and looked up at him with lust-darkened eyes. He pushed Jack’s hand away and replaced it with his own, latching his lips to the root of Jack’s cock while he ran his fingers, entangled in the hair, up and down the shaft. Jack swore he could feel the individual strands scraping across his skin, gliding then skittering over the sheath as it slid over the iron beneath it.
Jack’s mouth fell open, his mind overloaded by the sensations and images. He gasped Will’s name as he felt his bollocks clench like a fist. His cock pulsed and hot white cream flooded into the rich brown locks. Will continued caressing his cock with his hand and hair and lips and tongue until it finally quieted, then Jack slid down the mast and into Will’s arms.
He pushed the sodden curls away from Will’s flushed face. Will straddled him, sitting back on Jack’s thighs so as not to crush his tender sex. He kissed Jack’s forehead gently through his scarf. Jack couldn’t stop his fingers from wandering down to the substantial bulge in the front of Will’s trousers.
“So I suppose I’m forgiven enough to be trusted to do something about this, then, eh?”
Next: Chapter 29 Until the Sun Rises
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