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No profit, no foul, no way they would let Will and Jack do this.
Until The Sun Rises
Captain Jack Sparrow was off dry land and had a lap full of panting, wickedly-grinning Will Turner. His fingers caressed the substantial erection belonging to Will, his head still spun from the intensity of his own orgasm, and that orgasm had terminated in Will’s sweet hot mouth. Things could hardly get any better.
Then Will crossed his arms, grabbed the bottom of his shirt and pulled the loose garment up over his head.
So things could get better. Interesting. He felt the urge to test what must be the limits to this fantastical night. How far could he push this vision before it vanished before his eyes?
“Pants,” he rasped, and then the delicious weight on his thighs disappeared. He shut his eyes fast, not wanting to find out that the whole experience was all only a hallucination brought on by an extremely effective bout of masturbation. But the spicy vanilla scent was still in the air. And he could taste himself, mixed with the taste of Will, when he ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth. He opened his eyes and groaned.
Will was still standing, after tossing his trousers to one side, with one foot on either side of Jack’s legs. Long, lean legs tensed hard with desire. Long, not quite so lean cock tensed even tighter. His hands were resting on the top of his thighs, and Jack could tell he was forcing them to stay relaxed, unclenched.
Jack felt guilty. Will was working so hard to be comfortable with this, to not let on how nervous he was, and Jack was just sitting there with his back to the mast, boneless and satiated. Oh, the unjustness of the situation. It would have to be rectified immediately.
He pushed himself off the mast and sat up, bringing himself eye level with two very heavy, and most delightfully furry and tempting balls. He sighed and strained his nose upward, to bury it in brown curls, brought his lips to Will’s scrotum and gently sucked a bollock into his mouth.
The noise Will let out was less of a purr than it was a howl. Jack looked up quickly to see Will’s head tilted right back, and to feel fingers clench in his hair. He sucked gently, and rolled the bollock in his mouth. Soft hair tickled his lips. Will’s cock jerked so hard it bounced against Jack’s forehead. He reached up to wrap his hand around the straining organ.
How could Jack have thought things could not get better when he had not yet done this?
Will’s thighs were quaking, hard as steel under Jack’s other hand. Unfair, again. He pulled his mouth away from Will, who squeaked in dismay, and pulled the boy down to his lap again.
Will was shaking all over by the time he settled back down on Jack’s lap. Jack ran his hands up and down Will’s thighs, hoping to calm him, kissed him tenderly. Will’s eyes were wide and wet, shining in the dim light from the rising moon. “Shh, lad, you’ve got a bit over-excited there, eh?” He tried to be soothing, comforting.
Will pushed his head forward and thrust his tongue between Jack’s lips. The time for talk was not the present; Jack could see that.
He wrapped his arms around Will and pulled him close, sucking the tongue deeper into his mouth. Will started bouncing on his lap, hard cock slapping against Jack’s. And, god, the purrs coming from his throat. Jack was hard again already. Jack couldn’t help but worry that the lad would kill him, but he wouldn’t let it get in the way of having a good time.
Jack deftly flipped Will over onto his back, legs spread wide and Jack between them. Ideal. It took a moment for Jack to get his legs sorted out from the mast, but once he was sure of the location of all his extremities he leaned over Will’s body and licked a path down his sweating, quivering torso to his cock.
Whose cock? ‘My cock,’ Jack said to himself as he lapped at the pearly fluid leaking from the slit. ‘Mine to taste, and suck, and fondle and love…’ He teased the little slit with the tip of his tongue, but only for a second or two, because Will jerked his hips up and Jack found himself with a mouthful of Will Turner.
‘Hmm, my favourite mouthful.’
Will was thrashing around on the deck, so desperate was he for relief. It had been far, far too long since this had happened. And he would have freely admitted he wanted it more than anything else. Jack’s lips formed a tight seal just above the base of his cock, and when he looked down to see Jack hollow his cheeks and suck he honestly thought he might die. He couldn’t imagine anything better.
But then, he had thought only a few minutes before that nothing could be better than Jack’s mouth on his bollocks. So he had to admit there was always room for improvement. Unfortunately, this particular improvement had caused him to lose control of most of his body. He felt a nagging dismay when he felt his legs move, lift over Jack’s shoulders, bend so his ankles crossed on top of Jack’s back. That couldn’t be very comfortable for Jack.
But Jack’s arms came up and hugged his legs, pressing thighs even tighter against his ears, and he took Will’s cock further into his mouth. Will couldn’t imagine how Jack was fitting all that cock in his mouth until he felt Jack’s throat muscles constricting around his swollen head.
So. That was how you fit all that cock in your mouth.
He swore, loudly and profusely, appalled at his own language. Jack would have been proud, but he couldn’t hear a word with Will’s thighs covering his ears like that.
Jack closed his eyes, bringing kohl enhanced lashes tight together. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to look at Will - he loved to look at Will and would be happy to look at Will every day for the rest of his life. But he wanted to intensify this moment. He wanted to sense nothing but Will’s cock in his mouth and throat, and Will’s lean thighs wrapped so so tightly around his head. Heels digging into his back. That would hurt later, but later didn’t matter. He could smell nothing but Will, taste nothing but Will, feel nothing but Will, hear nothing but his own blood rushing through his veins and, he imagined, Will’s doing the same. No, it wasn’t imaginary; he could hear Will’s blood, hear his heart thumping wildly.
The vein on the underside of Will’s cock throbbed under the flat of Jack’s tongue. The whole organ grew harder and impossibly larger. Those lovely bollocks tightened up, against his chin. Jack sucked as hard as he could and drew the first pulse of heavenly release right down his throat. Will twisted violently to one side but Jack kept his grip on the lithe thighs, kept his nose buried in those delectable curls. He continued to suck, disappointed that he couldn’t fully taste the rich fluid oozing down his throat, but determined to give Will something he’d never had before. He eased up the pressure a little, as the contractions in the organ slowed and lessened, but kept a mild suction at all times.
Will’s thighs relaxed and he removed his hands, letting the long limbs fall to either side. Still suckling lightly, he stroked Will’s inner thighs, where the hair was shorter, more wiry than on the rest of his legs, the skin soft and pale. Wills softened in his mouth, the head retracting beneath his foreskin, the length diminishing. Jack kept sucking.
He swirled his tongue around the tip, nudging folds of skin, pressing down on the head. With Will’s legs splayed out like that he could hear clearly, ragged gasps and sighs, the air catching in his throat every few breaths, almost like a sob but very much not so. Will’s arms lay limply on the ground, every muscle relaxed. Every part of him quiet and satisfied.
It would have been too much, except Jack knew there was more.
Will began to harden and grow between his lips again. Jack thrilled to the feel of expanding flesh on his tongue, pushing on his tongue. Ripples across stomach muscles, twitch of the left thigh.
Jack found himself tumbling, tossed onto his back, arms wind milling, seeking purchase on the hard deck that seemed to be slipping out from under him. Will’s face pressed close to his. The look of consternation, and the beloved eyebrow crease returned to its home.
“What are you doing?” Will demanded, voice filled with distrust.
Jack thought for a moment. He supposed he’d never done that before, they’d always rested, always stopped before starting again. He didn’t see why it should be such cause for alarm, and ordinarily he would be offended by Will’s suspicion. But there was that gorgeous crease, and Jack couldn’t be upset by that. To be certain, it was proof of Will’s apprehension, but it made him look so attractive, almost vulnerable. Jack knew he should take it seriously, but he couldn’t help himself. He had to do what he’d been yearning to do all along.
He tilted his chin, stuck out his tongue, and licked the crease from top to bottom. Then he licked across the wavy lines of worry on Will’s forehead. And, for good measure and because he’d never done it before either, although why he could not fathom, Jack trailed his extended tongue gently over Will’s now-closed eyelids. The skin there was thin, so very soft. He felt an eyeball flutter under the lid. He licked across them again.
He didn’t need a reason. He just did it.
Will opened his eyes as Jack pulled back. They stared at each other for a long moment.
Jack smiled. He didn’t have to try to look non-threatening. He wasn’t threatening, not now. “I’m making love to you, dear William.” His voice was soft and low and without a hint of a growl and not at all like Jack’s voice, but it came from Jack nonetheless. “I’m making you feel good everywhere, and then I’m going to do it all over again, until the sun rises, or one of your meddling relatives shows up to spoil the fun, or until the bloody royal navy arrives to cart me away in irons.”
Will considered this. He was still shaking from his violent release earlier, but his is skin was prickling all over, eager for the feel of naked Jack. Jack was still mostly clothed, except for the gaping opening of his trousers from which Jack’s firm, delicious looking cock protruded. He couldn’t remember what he was upset about. He seemed to remember being worried, worried that he was being manipulated somehow, but he couldn’t think of why.
Will lifted a hand and stroked down Jack’s cheek. The skin was evenly tanned, smooth. His fingers ghosted over dark hair, the moustache curled up at the edges, the beard laying flat against a fine jaw line. What would Jack look like with out the beard? Younger, softer. One fingertip traced a slightly pouting upper lip. So soft. It didn’t look like it would feel so soft. The tongue that flicked out at his finger was pink, wet, inviting. Jack looked up at him, eyes wide with expectation.
Jack knew he was being judged. He prayed he would pass muster.
“Well, Captain Sparrow, I think you’re wearing far to many clothes to accomplish that task with any success,” he murmured.
Until the sun rises sounded very good to him indeed.
Next: Chapter 30 It Was The Kohl, Again
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