|
No profit is made from this shameless theft of source material.
Fatherly Advice
Will Turner sat patiently on a stump in the clearing. Tessie had emerged from the trees ten minutes before, and he was certain Bootstrap would follow any minute now. And there he was.
“Father!”
Bootstrap looked up, shocked by his son’s sudden appearance. He’d been staring at the path as he walked, catching his breath as it were. Tessie showed up an hour before, rather frantic, and dragged him to a secluded clearing. Now he was trying to get himself back on course again. That woman was a whirling dervish when she wanted to be.
“Will. Son. Hello. I was just… that is we were… I, um…”
“I saw Tessie leave.”
No use denying it, then. “Right. Well. Shouldn’t you be working, or building, or, um, blacksmithing or something?” Bootstrap sat on rock near Will. It was a bit shorter than the stump, which put Bootstrap in the rather uncomfortable position of looking up at his son, but Will didn’t seem to notice. He was too busy fidgeting with the hem of his trousers and scrunching up his forehead something fierce. “You all right, lad?”
Will jumped a little. Not enough to fall off the stump, but enough for Bootstrap to notice. “Fine. I’m fine, dad. It’s just that, well, something has happened. Something has been brought to my attention. I thought maybe you could give me some advice.”
Bootstrap thought about this for a moment. Will wanted advice from his father. That was curious. After all, Will was a grown man, and there wasn’t much he could still need to learn from his father. He had a better, more skilled trade than Bootstrap ever learned; he was well liked and respected by most of the people he met.
Bootstrap found himself yearning for a spot of rum. If it wasn’t career and it wasn’t social matters, there was only one other possibility. And Bootstrap most decidedly did not feel up to giving his son pointers on how to go about having sex with Captain Jack Sparrow.
But that was no attitude to have toward one’s flesh and blood. He’d done precious little for his son while he grew up. Now could be his chance to make amends. “Go on, lad. What seems to be troubling you?”
Will bit his lower lip.
Bootstrap smiled. He used to do that when he was younger. At least, he hoped he didn’t do it anymore.
“It’s about women,” Will blurted out.
Women? What the devil did his son have to do with women? This was getting odder by the moment. Bootstrap felt the thirst for the rum building.
“Two days!?!”
Okonkwo and Matthew nodded solemnly.
“I can’t go two days without touching Will!”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I bloody well can not!”
“You were gone for three weeks.”
“And I was at sea while he was here; I couldn’t see him!” Or smell him. Or feel his heat from across the clearing.
Matthew put his hand on the pirate’s arm. “You understand why, don’t you Jack?”
“Well, yes, but two bloody days? I’ve been gone for three weeks, gathering supplies for you lot, I might add. Now you won’t let me have him…”
“From what I hear, you already had him.”
“Yes, of course, but that was just the warm up.”
Okonkwo’s wife shook her finger at him. “Well, you’ll just have to keep simmering for a couple of nights. That girl wants a baby, and it will not be fair if your lust deprives her of it.”
Jack sat down in the doctor’s little room, curtained off from the rest of the long house.
“Two days…”
“Why on earth would you want to know how to please a woman?”
“It’s Charlotte. She wants a baby, and it means so much to her. It will make her happy. And Anamaria, as well.”
“I know all that, but why do you think you have to learn how to please her? I mean, you just have to do your business and the baby will happen, you don’t have to go to any trouble.”
“That hardly seems fair.”
“It doesn’t have to be fair. It’s just a fact.”
“But I heard the women talking, and they said it was necessary.”
Oh, so that explained why Tessie had been so riled up. Normally she only got like that at night, after all the work was done. Highly responsible woman, Tessie was. It made the days very long for Bootstrap, under normal conditions. But if she was sitting around talking about women’s pleasure, that would explain the sudden onslaught.
“I’m sure the women would like that to be true, but it’s just an old wives tale, lad. I assure you, it is not required for the woman to, uh, feel that sort of satisfaction in order for the seed to take.”
“And how much would you know about it? All those women, they’ve had children, most of them. They would know. Besides, I don’t think it would be fair to Charlotte if I didn’t learn. I’m sure I was less than satisfying last time.”
Bootstrap couldn’t hold back a snicker. The whole camp had heard Charlotte and Anamaria that night.
“It’s not funny, father. Please, just tell me what I should do.”
“And what makes you think I know so much about it?”
“Because of the way Tessie looks when you’ve been together.”
Bootstrap sat a little taller. It was true. Tessie did achieve a high degree of satisfaction with him. He cleared his throat and attempted to organize his thoughts.
“Well, son, it’s not all that different from being with a man.”
“The women say it is.”
“What would they know about it? Anyway, you know what to do with a man, right?”
Will nodded eagerly. A little too eagerly. Bootstrap could picture Will and Jack all too easily – like looking in a mirror from years ago. He knew the sorts of things Jack enjoyed. Things like that are hard to forget. Strong, demanding hands pushing him up against the wall, wiry arms pinning and bending him, hot lips and sharp teeth on his throat, that thick cock ramming into him, almost lifting him off the floor. Oh, come to think of it, most women probably wouldn’t want quite that, would they?
He had to clear his throat again. “You see, son, women like to feel loved.”
Will nodded. He could understand that. He liked to feel loved. And he did feel loved. Sometimes Jack would just lie next to him and run his fingers tenderly over Will’s skin, following the dips and curves. Fingers would be followed by gentle warm kisses and licks. Murmurs of approval, of endearment. Often followed by careful penetration so intense it was like two bodies becoming one.
Bootstrap frowned at the glazed look in Will’s eyes. “You have to be gentle with them, sometimes,” he said loudly.
Will shook his head to clear it and refocused his eyes, turning them to meet his father’s. “Right. Gentle.”
“But you still have to be in charge. A woman likes a confident man, a man who can guide her and tell her what he wants.”
“In charge,” Will repeated, with a little less certainty. Now there was a problem. Will didn’t want anything with Charlotte. Other than to get her pregnant, of course. He would have to concentrate on the goal very hard.
“Women aren’t like men. They need a bit more preparation.”
“Not Charlotte. She was quite ready, I didn’t even need the oil.”
Bootstrap didn’t know quite how to respond to that. He remembered the oil. Slick and cool, it warmed as soon as it hit his skin, and warmed more when Jack massaged it into him. Fingers, a little rough from wear, perhaps not terribly careful, but always thorough, almost always took the time to fully prepare him. He sat a little straighter when the sensation of fingers, spreading him and scissoring inside him, beckoned from the dark recesses of his mind. He tried not to think about things like that too often, because it tended to make him flustered.
“Preparation,” he echoed himself, quite discomfited. “It’s very important. Like with your hands, your, um, fingers.”
Will nodded slowly. He knew all about preparation with fingers. Slow, careful, circling fingertips, and smoothly sliding digits that twisted inside him so deliciously, and coaxed him open. He looked down at his own fingers. His hands were rough. And Charlotte had felt awfully soft. Wouldn’t he hurt her? But he had to prepare her somehow. He thought about preparation in general, and specifically how to do it without scratching. Then he thought about a slick, wet tongue, lapping at him and easing into him. Flicking over puckered skin and giving him shivers.
“With my mouth?”
Bootstrap coughed. Mouth. How had the boy thought of that? Jack never used his mouth, not for that kind of preparation. Or did he? He looked at his son. His eyes were glazed over again, and a little smile of blissful content played around his lips.
Jesus, Jack did use his mouth on the boy like that!
“Right, well, I think we should move on to the anatomy.” Bootstrap picked up a stick and hastily drew some lines on the dirt path. “A’right. So this here is your basic woman parts. This is like the legs here, and that sort of messed up bit there is where the hair is, and this is the hole you want to go in here and… are you following this, boy?”
Will made an agreeing sort of noise, but he was a little confused. He hadn’t actually looked all that closely at Charlotte the time before. Bootstrap kept drawing more details and it seemed vaguely familiar. It seemed a little odd that his father knew all this, but he supposed he himself would have been more than capable of drawing the male anatomy, or at least Jack’s anatomy, if called on. It occurred to him that the anatomy Bootstrap was drawing might be particular to Tessie, who was his stepmother, and that made him feel a bit uncomfortable.
“Now there’s this little bump here, it’s almost like your prick, you know, but fairly tiny. And very sensitive. You must pay careful attention to it. You can’t press it too hard, she won’t like that. And just touching it once won’t do any good. You have to get into some kind of a rhythm, like.”
“Like when you stroke a cock.”
The lad caught on fast. “Yes.”
“And your mouth?”
“Of course. Your mouth. If you like. You could lick it, I suppose.”
“Suck?”
“Don’t see why not.”
“And what about the hole?”
“Ah, well, you could lick around that too. Or use your fingers.”
“Is there a…”
“A what?”
“A place. Inside. Like in a man.”
Bootstrap considered this. The boy was certainly being thorough in his investigation of the matter. His attitude seemed to be that if a job was worth doing it was worth doing well. A very workmanlike, respectable sort of attitude. He had obviously been absent from his son’s life for far, far too long.
“Two days,” Jack muttered as he helped Gibbs haul the last of the cargo from the hull of the Black Pearl and load it into the rowboat.
“Aw, Captain, it’s not that bad. I was married once and was away from my wife for two years at a stretch.”
“Oh really, Mr. Gibbs. And where is your wife now?”
“She left me.”
Jack needed a drink.
“For the town blacksmith, as a matter of fact.”
Jack needed Will.
Bootstrap had finally warmed up to the topic. He was imparting whatever wisdom he could, describing intimate techniques and details, scribbling in the dirt when mere words would not suffice.
That was how Jack found them. The sun was almost setting. Father and son sat side by side in deep discussion. Lovely, handsome faces with almost identical serious expressions. Will sitting just a little higher, his hair still curling into ringlets framing his creased brow. Bootstrap’s hair pulled back loosely, damp with sweat or something, as if he’d been doing something strenuous at some point in the day. It was an almost wholesome looking scene, until Jack approached close enough to hear the words.
“…So you should always have your palm facing up, when the woman is on her back and your fingers are inside, ‘cause she’ll like it best that way…” Bootstrap noticed that Will was no longer paying any attention to him, but staring down the path.
Lo and behold, there stood Captain Jack Sparrow, with one hand suspended in the air and the other at his side, fist clenched tightly.
“William. Will. Having a little father-son chat, are we, eh?”
Father and son rose.
“Um, I was just telling the boy a few things, savvy. Nothing wrong with knowledge, eh?”
Jack nodded slowly. “Indeed. Will, might I have a word with you?”
Will stepped toward Jack. “Of course. Why don’t we go get some supper and we can talk?”
Jack glowered at Bootstrap. “See you at camp, William.” Teeth gritted. It wasn’t the kind of anger that made Jack Sparrow lash out. Bootstrap would have recognized that. He was only irritated. Extremely irritated. Perhaps it would be best for Bootstrap to avoid Jack for a few days.
Darria hurried to the spot she knew she’d dropped her hairbrush earlier, in her haste to retreat from the unwholesome display of wantonness at the hot spring. She found the brush before the light failed entirely, and made her way back to camp by a shorter trail.
Halfway home she looked down and saw a series of drawings in the dirt on the path. It took her a while to realize what she was looking at, what with the dim light and all. When she discerned what the scratches in the dirt were she stood shocked for a few minutes, before shuffling back and forth to erase the offensive images.
“Bloody pirates!” she growled.
Next: Chapter 58 Two Days and Two Nights
|
