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While the idea of Will Turner spreading his thighs for Jack Sparrow is endlessly fascinating, it is not, in fact,
the way the movie went. So it’s a good thing this is a not-for-profit enterprise, or else there could be some questionable copyright crap going on here, eh?
Taking His Time
Jack Sparrow was thoroughly enjoying the soothing, warm feeling deep in his belly. So gentle and loving. Like when he was very young, and his mother used to rub his stomach for him if he was frightened or perturbed. When his father was angry or disappointed, when his tutors were upset and frustrated, when the world was against him. Slow, gentle circles would soothe away his problems and help him sleep.
But wait. His mother had small, soft, aristocratic hands. This hand wasn’t small. It wasn’t soft, however gentle it might be. And it wasn’t aristocratic. A rough edge scraped over the hairless, sensitive skin just above his navel. And another rough edge caught a bit on the hair beneath his navel.
Wait again. Little boys don’t have hair below their navels.
And mothers don’t dip a fingertip into their little boy’s navels to tease like that.
And little boys definitely do not grow to such proportions in response to a little tummy rubbing, so large that the edge of that non-aristocratic hand bumped against his sensitive and rather engorged cockhead on every pass.
Jack forced his eyes open, as much as they wanted to stay safe and comforted, a tad alarmed until he saw Will Turner there, gazing down at him shyly.
He wished it were day. In this blasted darkness, even with the light of the heavens shining through clear skies, everything was washed out in blue tones, monochromatic. Not that Will didn’t look pretty in blue; he was exquisite. But by the light of the sun he would be able to see Will’s skin, blushing pink, as it always did when he’d been caught doing something he thought he wasn’t supposed to do.
And even though there was nothing wrong with what he was doing, Jack would have liked to see the blush.
“Didn’t mean to wake you. Sorry.” Will ducked his head down a bit.
Oh, lord help him, Jack knew the blush was creeping up around Will’s ears now. Curse the night! That was his favourite part of the blush. He loved it almost as much as the eyebrow crease.
“Don’t be. I feel thoroughly refreshed.” Jack sat up and surprised himself. He was thoroughly refreshed. “I am a touch chilled, though.” That was a blatant lie, but he knew it would bring Will’s strong arms around him, and it did, and they both enjoyed that so it wasn’t a lie so much as an incentive to do something they both wanted to do anyway.
Will’s cheek was hot against Jack’s and his breath was hotter on Jack’s shoulder. Jack tangled his hands into soft hair.
“Will, I do have a confession to make. There is a problem,” Jack spoke into a riot of messed curls, but he knew there was an ear in there somewhere.
Will pulled back, worried look on his face, eyebrow crease firmly in place. It gave Jack a little thrill. To be able to call it up, on demand as it were.
“Whatever is the matter?”
“It’s you, darling,” Jack drawled. “ It’s not working out...it’s your clothes.”
Will looked down at his shirt and breeches. “What’s wrong with them?”
Jack lifted Will’s chin with a single finger. “You’re wearing them, luv. Now, don’t you think you’d be much more comfortable if the clothes were over, shall we say, there, with my shirt and sash.”
And soon they were doing what they did best, rolling back and forth on the sail, naked limbs entwined, attached at the lips. Hard cocks pressed together and Jack revelled in the velvet slide of them. Will must have been hard a while, for he was leaking profusely, and every drop of pearly fluid that spread over Jack’s cock made him ache for more. Jack arched and writhed but couldn’t get close enough to become one with Will. He was pressed so close his cock was close to being in pain.
“I can’t,” he panted. “I just can’t show you.” Frustrated, he gripped Will’s hips and ground furiously against him.
Will was having the same problem, needing more Jack and being unable to get it. “I know, you want more.” He rolled onto his back, bringing Jack, who was plastered to his front anyway, on top.
Then he spread his legs.
Jack slid between them with a groan. The boy had no idea how this was tormenting him. There was no way he could know just how inviting, just how achingly inviting that was. Long, lean thighs hugged Jack’s flanks, and the head of Jack’s cock pressed into the base of Will’s cock, so his hard shaft pressed into Will’s bollocks and the heat, oh the heat, emanating from just behind them; like a siren’s song, it called to Jack.
How could it be that this body, so sinful and so obviously intended for fucking, belonged to a man so innocent and infuriatingly… Oh. My. Lord. Jack went blind for a second when Will spread his legs further, and hooked one calf over the back of Jack’s thighs, so Jack slipped further down. The head of his cock was positioned almost exactly where, in an ideal world, it should be.
Jack groaned.
“It’s all right, Jack. You can go ahead.”
Jack stopped groaning. What did that mean, ‘you can go ahead’?
Will wriggled his hips a little, as if in answer, and Jack made a little choking sound when his cock pressed against the incredibly hot little pucker of the opening he so desired. Will closed his eyes.
He was giving himself up. Jack proved he wanted Will even without sex. Now the whelp was giving himself up, as if to prove something entirely different. The boy was tense, fists clenched tight, eyes shut as if to block out a bright light. He was scared, but he was willing to do it to prove to Jack he was what? A man?
“No, no luv, you don’t have to.” Jack pulled himself up and off the lad, settling at his side. “You don’t have to prove anything, honestly. Besides, I would just hurt you, you’re drawn so tight.” He ran his hand down Will’s front as if to soothe him.
Curious. As tense as the boy was, his cock remained fully hard.
Perhaps it was instinctual.
Will sat up suddenly. “Jack, look, I’ll not have you leaving me behind somewhere just because I won’t…let’s just get this over with and I’m sure I’ll get used to it. I don’t want it to come between us.”
Jack didn’t want anything to come between them, except for Will of course. He wanted Will to come between them with Jack’s cock lodged firmly in his… Jack pushed him back down, both hands hovering in the air above Will in a gesture of frustration. “No! Look, Will, I appreciate the sacrifice, but it shouldn’t have to be a sacrifice. It’s not that important, really.”
Will laughed harshly. “Is that why you quiver and moan like that when you get close to it? Because it isn’t important?”
Jack tugged at his beard, breathing deeply to calm himself. Quivering and moaning. Made him sound like some degenerate with no self control. Surely he was better than that.
“I’ll admit,” he said after a long pause, “that it is somewhat surprising that I would be talking you out of this, as opposed to into it.”
“So don’t! You want it so bad, and I’ll never know why unless I try it.”
It was logic Jack could not find an argument against. And really, who could blame him for not trying all that hard?
But that was no reason to be rash. He leaned over Will and played his fingers over firm thighs. “I need you to relax, Will. Let me do this slowly.” He gently nudged the thighs apart. Will took a deep breath and let them fall open naturally. Jack took his time, running his fingers up and down the paler skin there. “One step at a time, savvy?”
Will sucked in his breath when Jack’s fingers circled around his bollocks, lingering at the bottom of each journey around. Jack stopped and pressed his fingers against the smooth skin there, feeling the curve of it, the way it bulged slightly, so very hot to the touch. It made Will’s cock twitch in a lovely way.
“That’s it, luv, that’s the very root of your cock, you know. I love the way it makes you jump when I do that.” He pressed again and Will, almost not quite, came close to a purr. Jack stretched out next to him, hand pressed over cock and balls while fingers prodded gently. “You like that, don’t you?”
Will nodded quickly and said “Hmm,” in a high, needy sigh.
“Good lad,” Jack hummed in his ear. “You look so beautiful like that, so open.” Jack kept talking as if to calm a spooked horse or coax a frightened animal closer. Low, rumbling tones designed to loosen. He brushed his fingers lower to the furry cleft, palm pressed against bollocks, mouth moving along collarbone to that little hollow, at the base of Will’s throat. “So beautiful.”
The finger circling his opening felt so foreign to Will. He wanted to squirm away, but he somehow bucked up toward it, encouraging it. He had no idea what his treacherous body had in mind, but it wasn’t very dignified, at least not in Will’s mind.
“That’s my boy. Don’t fret, I’m not going to hurt you…” Jack kept whispering as he kissed his way down Will’s chest, kept stroking and patting the little hole delicately. He’d never been so gentle before, and he found it strangely invigorating. Most surprisingly, he found himself enjoying this intimate slight touch so much there was almost need for more.
Will laid a hand on his shoulder. Getting ready to stop him if he went too far, or getting ready to encourage him, Jack couldn’t tell. But it burned his skin. He spent a minute or two tonguing the dark hollow of Will’s navel, feeling the muscles quiver under his lips. So very ready for more, so very frightened of it. This was more exciting than fucking. But ultimately not as satisfying. Jack took the head of Will’s cock in his mouth.
Ah, there was the purr. As always, when Will purred Jack’s cock leapt to attention. He’d almost forgotten about it, but now it strained and ached for release. He forced himself to ignore, to concentrate on the lovely, salty damp skin sweating beneath him, shuddering with desire. He lifted his hand and Will let out a growl.
“Hush, luv, I’m not stopping.” Because Jack knew that was why Will growled. The answering whimper made Jack’s fingertips tingle as he slipped two of them into his mouth. Will purred again when Jack replaced the now-wet fingers at his entrance and the always-wet mouth on his cock. Jack pressed gently, Will spread his legs just enough more to encourage him to push harder, and then Jack’s finger was gripped by the most exquisite pressure.
Will made the decision to not fight anything. His thighs slipped even further apart, he let his back arch, his hand squeeze Jack’s shoulder in encouragement. He pressed down, unconsciously and unforced, down so Jack’s finger filled him.
Jack’s jaw fell slack, with Will’s cock still in it. Jesus, the boy was pushing back, and his finger was sinking into the hottest, smoothest, velvetest… that wasn’t a word but who could come up with a real word when this was happening? When he moaned it seemed to make Will’s cock bounce around in his mouth, which made him remember it was there in the first place, so he instinctively sucked and curved his finger once it was fully sheathed, slid it around, searching.
The probing stretched Will and he gasped, such a strange feeling. Like it shouldn’t be there but it was right where it belonged. The saliva made it slide easily enough, and it was only one finger so it didn’t really hurt, no more than a pleasant burn, and the fullness was unexpectedly enjoyable, although Will wasn’t about to spoil the moment by reflecting on how much bigger Jack’s cock was than a single finger.
Jack’s finger was moving in him as if there was something more than just stretching him open to be done.
Oh. That. Right there.
Will gripped Jack’s hair tightly and bucked. He didn’t know what had just happened, only that he wanted it to happen again. “Jack, oh, again, please,” he hissed through gritted teeth. Pleasure shouldn’t be that concentrated, he thought in a haze. It’s too much like pain. And he thought he might die if he didn’t feel it again. Just like…that.
Jack grinned around Will’s cock. Just as sensitive inside as he was outside, as Jack had hoped all along. But this was beyond what he hoped for. Will was keening now, lurching under him madly, and stiffening in his mouth to what must have been a painful extent.
Although it had been his goal all along, Jack was taken by surprise by the force of Will’s orgasm. Normally when Will came in his mouth it was flooded with sweet taste and creamy texture he could savour and let slide down his throat. But now his mouth was instantly overflowing and he choked when the wide head of Will’s cock butted violently at the back of his mouth. The tight ring of muscle threatened to crush his finger and internal muscles rippled along it, giving Jack no choice but to think of how that would feel around his cock.
He gave a hoarse cry and thrust his cock forward, connecting with Will’s foot. The crush of heated cock against jutting ankle bone was enough to send him over the edge, and he set off instantly, bathing Will’s foot with his slick release.
Now Jack found himself in an embarrassing situation, because it made him look like an inexperienced youth. Come dripping from his beard, spent cock twitching ineffectively in a pool of his own come, on the boy’s ankle, heaven help him, and his finger inexplicably incapable of leaving its tight, hot resting place. He wanted to remain there, with at least some part of him inside Will, forever. His reluctance to let the boy go was immature to say the least, and showed an appalling lack of concern for his lover. No finesse at all.
Not that Will was aware of any of this. His eyes were still rolled back in their sockets, and his whole body hummed from the power of his orgasm, so it was quite some time before he became aware of a faint wetness around his ankle, and that Jack was wiping it up with a damp rag. And that Jack’s other hand was still between his legs with one finger still firmly entrenched.
And Jack nuzzled Will’s throat, breathing in the scent of his hair.
“Jack,” he heard. He blinked. Looked down at leather-clad boots and strong thighs. Boots he would have crossed behind his waist. With any luck it would be tonight.
“Jack,” Will repeated. “We have to help Alphonse.”
Jack grinned, gold teeth flashing in the sunlight. “Sorry, luv, just thinking about last night.” He gave Will’s bum a light pat and watched the crimson creep up Will’s face. Lovely, he thought. Just lovely.
If patience had not been a virtue, Jack would have pegged it as a wicked sin. Because drawing this out, giving Will a little at a time, working his way slowly to the inevitable climax, no matter many climaxes would occur in the interim, that was going to be far more decadent and satisfying than jumping to the finish line in one go.
And at this moment in time, nothing could be more wicked or desirable than taking his time
Next: Part V Jack Wins Will Again
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