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Not all my characters but my plot. So Disney and I are even ;) No profit, no foul – technically…
Warning: Norrington is a bastard in this one… not suitable for Norriefans.
Norrington’s Prize
Norrington sneered at the figure huddled in the corner of the brig on the Interceptor II, chained hand and foot, weakened from the battle, dark hair messed, a hint of blood smeared at the edge of a cut lip. It was a small ship, and the brig took up far too much space under the deck, but he was immensely pleased it had been built, for it contained a real prize, someone who would lead to his redemption in the eyes of his superiors.
It was amazing what a bit of bait could do for a man’s career.
So what if he didn’t have the Dauntless back yet. He would soon enough. And so what if the merchant vessel was lost. The ship wasn’t important. What were important were the heathens and their leader. He spat in disgust. Leader. An escaped rebel slave. What kind of a leader was that? and what kind of an army did he control? A bunch of half-dressed
pathetic savages.
They’d put up a fierce battle. But Norrington’s guns had prevailed.
Unfortunately he had not prevailed over the Black Pearl. That red-haired hussy had screeched a warning to the pirates and the Black Pearl had manoeuvred its way out of his reach. But that too was acceptable, since it had left the trading vessel wide open to attack and the beach at his mercy. It hadn’t taken much to sink the other ship; it was listing badly to start with. The sight of all those wretched creatures swimming to shore would have moved him to pity if he hadn’t been so busy pursuing them. Searching for treasure.
And now, here in the brig; his prize. He leered at a long leg, folded in half under torn clothes. “You’ll do quite well. I don’t imagine anyone will be letting me go far without you. And when they come, that traitorous mutineer, the rebel slave leader, the notorious pirate captain, and the renegade preacher – they’ll all be mine.”
But his words fell in the air unheard.
Will Turner was having a dream. A surreal, confusing dream. He was in the wild with Jack, just the two of them. And they were bathing in a spring, cool refreshing water poured over his calves, and Jack was scooping up water with a piece of curved wood, and letting it stream down Will’s legs and torso. He was naked and free in the sunshine again, and he would have smiled, in the dream and out of it, but his head ached so very much. Even smiling hurt.
He pursued the dream further, forcing his mind to conjure up the images again until he and Jack were lying together on soft moss, and Jack was stroking him gently, running a soothing hand up and down his flank, curving it around his hip, dipping down to stroke his stomach with lingering fingers. That’s what he wanted. If that were all he thought about, if he concentrated very very hard, it would happen. He would awake and he would be safe again, with Jack at his side.
His mind wandered back, back to the last night on Alphonse’s ship. He was lying back in a daze, body quaking from head to toe. There was something wet, something on his foot, and someone rubbing at it. Then Jack was there, beside him. There was a strange but not uncomfortable pressure inside him. Oh, now he remembered. That was Jack. Inside.
“Jack,” he repeated, out loud this time. “What are you doing?” And then he strained up, reached his mouth up to catch a shimmering drop of white cream from Jack’s beard on the tip of his outstretched tongue. Delicious. Did he really taste that good?
Jack shifted his finger, just slightly, and made Will gasp. “I’m exploring, mate.” Jack’s voice was laced with humour, and a husky lust that made Will’s cock twitch, soft and satiated as it was.
There was a bit of a burn, too much friction. “A little dry,” Jack croaked, his voice sounding as if it needed the lubrication more than his finger did, “perhaps.” Then he disappeared from Will’s sight. And the next thing he knew there was a hot, wet pressure just behind his bollocks, around where he was stretched to accommodate Jack’s finger, and that wasn’t anything he’d expected or imagined and beyond what he could have dreamed or wished for because it was possibly the best thing he’d ever felt.
Jack was licking wetly at him, sliding tongue over ridges, then sliding his finger out and Will could tell Jack was licking around his finger and then he was filled again and Jack moaned against him. And he could feel the moan vibrate deep inside.
Then Jack was up beside him again, suckling on his throat while he worked that finger deep inside Will, so deep inside the thought of it made Will blush.
“No, no, don’t get shy on me now, luv.” Jack’s voice tickled his throat. “You’ve got a lovely arse, and I plan to explore every, ah…” Jack’s teeth sank a little in Will’s throat, corresponding with the clenching of Will’s muscle around Jack’s finger, a result of Jack applying just the right amount of pressure on a little bundle of nerves so deep inside Will had never known they were there. Until now. “Every inch,” Jack breathed heavily.
Will purred.
But his head hurt, and the absolute pleasure of Jack just stroking him like that, just sliding his finger in and out and making him turn to liquid, was lost and Will groaned and tried to hold his head in his hand but he couldn’t reach. His chapped lips tasted salty, briny, maybe even bloody, and he shivered with the cold.
And he would have given anything to go back to that ship on that night. He squeezed his eyes shut tight and willed himself to remember.
He did remember. He remembered Jack’s finger slipping from inside him, slick and smooth. And the sense of loss and emptiness when it did. He whimpered, just a quiet little whimper of complaint that made Jack smile against his chest, where he was doing the most delightful things to Will’s left nipple with his tongue.
Jack rubbed little circles around his curiously tender flesh, so cautious and loving, stroking the wrinkled skin slick with spit. He’d never felt so much concentrated in such a small area… well, he had, deep inside, but this was outside… and not in a place he’d never associated with pleasure before. Yet there he was in Jack’s embrace with Jack’s hand between his legs and he was spreading his legs more, wanting ever more.
“Shh, love, that’s enough of that for now. I don’t want to hurt you and I’m afraid I’ve got nothing else to ease the way.” Will tried to protest, but Jack hushed him with a kiss on the corner of his mouth.
Will licked it now, the corner of his mouth, but the taste of Jack was long gone.
“Spit’s not enough, not for your first time, luv. And I’m rather,” Jack shifted closer and pressed himself against Will’s thigh, “larger than me finger.”
Will groaned when he thought of Jack’s cock, inside him. He wanted it, wanted to be stretched, wanted to be opened, but when he reached down and took Jack’s cock in his hand he had an understanding of Jack’s restraint. Its girth was considerably larger than what Will had imagined when he’d thought of Jack fucking him, and it wasn’t even fully hard. Yet.
“How could I forget,” he panted. “You’re hardly slender.” Circled his thumb around the head, pushing back the damp foreskin, teasing the wet slit. Jack hadn’t even had time to properly clean up. He was sticky, and still tender, and Will’s fingers were relentless. It would have hurt if it hadn’t feel so good.
“No,” Jack agreed, not boasting, only being reasonable. “But if you keep touching me like that…” His words were cut off by a fierce kiss, and Will’s body flew against him. Insatiable.
Will kissed and writhed and did everything he could to drive Jack to distraction. He knew that if he was excited enough, if Jack got excited enough, restraint would be thrown overboard and Jack would take him, right there on the deck, with or without something to ease the way.
“I mean it, Jack. I want you. Please, I know how much you want it, and how much it will mean to you.”
Jack groaned. Will was licking his ear, all around the outside of it, dipping his tongue teasingly into the shell, tracing whorls with his lovely lovely tongue. Jack hooked his leg over Will’s legs to keep them together. The inexplicable image of their first fuck occurring on clean sheets in a proper bed filled his mind to the point of explosion.
“Jack.” The whisper was low, right in his ear. It sent hot, stinging fingers down his spine. “Jack, you want to take me. I’m yours, so go ahead.”
But Will’s plan wasn’t working. Oh, Jack was moaning, he was bucking his hips against Will, he had taken his now hard cock in hand and was trying to stretch his fingers around Will’s at the same time. All good things. But he wasn’t spreading Will’s legs; in fact, he was pressing them together with more force. And he was setting a brutal, brisk rhythm on their cocks, pressed so close together, as if he wanted to satisfy them both fast.
“Jack,” Will whispered again. One last try. One last reckless offer. He thought of how stretched he’d felt, the pressure of just a finger inside him. And he thought of how Jack had made that helpless little mewling noise when Will’s arse tightened around his finger. He knew the clenching wasn’t just at the guardian muscle, it would be all through him. “Jack, think about how tight it would be, how hot I would be around you.” He reached down and threaded his fingers between Jack’s, surrounding their cocks, together, and squeezed. “You want to be inside me.”
Jack bucked against Will’s hand. He would have to be insane to refuse. Inside the sleek heat of Will Turner, those long legs wrapped around him. He shoved his hand down, worming it between Will’s thighs, so anxious to touch him he couldn’t wait until he found the muscle control to lift his leg up and slide it between Will’s thighs, pushing them open. Finally, Will was on his back, legs spread, Jack had his fingers poised at the tight opening he so cherished, Will was panting heavily, cock trickling silver fluid in the starlight onto a flat, smooth belly.
Will moaned and pressed down against Jack’s fingers. The sting of the first finger entering him was nothing compared to the sharp surprise of two. He gritted his teeth, desperate to feel the exquisite pain of Jack’s fingers wriggling and spreading him open, so preferable to the pain he felt in his head now. Jack withdrew, and recoated his fingers with saliva, and then was more gentle, slipping and sliding and stretching and oh, yes, touching him there.
He could feel himself open, relaxing and loosening under Jack’s still careful ministrations. It had disgusted him when he thought Jack just wanted to stick his cock into him, to make himself feel good. He’d thought it dirty and depraved then. But this wasn’t about Jack’s cock, it was about Will’s whole body responding to Jack. And this wasn’t like he and Jack grabbing at each other and making each other’s cocks feel good, this was about him and Jack, about how much Jack wanted to join with him and be a part of him.
He’d had no idea it would make him feel so very special.
“You’re magic, Will, when you open up like that. You feel like velvet inside, hot hot velvet.” Jack twisted his wrist and felt Will clench around him deep inside. He pulled out and tucked a third finger against the other two and pressed back in again.
Will jumped and his cock softened against Jack’s other hand. Jack stroked him in encouragement, but Will whimpered again, and not in the needy tone of before, but in an alarmed manner. Jack felt himself soften as well. “But I won’t do anything to hurt you.” Jack removed his fingers from inside, pressing his fingers against the heated, pulsing orifice.
He gathered Will in his arms and kissed his face. “Shh, luv, you’re fine. I’m fine. We’re both fine, and we have all the time in the world. We’ll try again later, I’ll get some of that oil and you’ll like it much more. This is plenty for now.”
And it was, at the time, but now Will ached for more. He would gladly endure any pain to be beside Jack again. But he didn’t know where Jack was. He didn’t know where he was. He only felt the dreadful pounding in his head.
When Jack slid that single newly-slicked finger inside again, Will marvelled at how it was so perfect, just the perfect length, to stroke him in the right spot, and how perfect it felt to have Jack against him with his hips thrust forward like that so their cocks lined up and they had their fingers entwined around them but Jack’s body stayed twisted so his finger was inside Will. Will angled his hips to make Jack’s fingertip press inside him harder, fiercer.
“Jesus, Will, you’re a natural at this, you know. You’re so incredibly responsive.” Jack was muttering now, low and dangerous sounding, grinding their cocks together but keeping perfect control over that one finger. “It’s like, oh God, like playing an instrument.” Will purred louder and the sound got an edge to it, a sharp and persuasive edge.
Strong hands gripped Will’s arms and hauled him to his feet roughly. His head bumped against wood, causing his brain to jar against the inside of his skull, excruciating. He blearily opened his eyes a crack, closed them again, still unwilling to leave his fantasy, this fantastical replay in his mind of him and Jack, pulsing hot liquid at the same time, heated sticky hands intertwined, tongues dancing together with the faint taste of Will’s musk lingering between them, his whole body turning inside out with pleasure, his dream of a time much more desirable than this real time.
“Wake up, Mr. Turner.” The voice was gruff. Familiar. It frightened him.
“No, leave me be. I only want Jack,” he cried out, unsure if he really said it or not. Quite sure it wouldn’t have been wise if he did say it out loud.
Water splashed on his face, bringing the world into focus. He was on the beach. Had been trapped under a broken mast, washed ashore from the sunken vessel. His feet had been chilling in the water, he didn’t know for how long, waves lapping at his knees.
Franklin pulled him free from the debris, “I don’t know where Jack is, and I don’t care.”
Will opened his eyes, finally, to look upon the distraught face of his brother-in-law.
“Kay is missing!”
Norrington went topside, leaving his prize locked up safe in the brig. She would bring him all he wanted, if what he’d been able to glean from the child was accurate. All those uncles. All those brave, protective, loyal family members. Brothers. Stepbrothers. And a pirate who would do anything to please Will Turner.
The little boy sat on a barrel, glaring at the Commodore with a dangerous look in his dark eyes. Perhaps Norrington would have been wise to lock up the whelp with his mother.
Next: Chapter 39 Melee on the Interceptor
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