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This didn’t really happen. I just imagined it. Now you can too.
Claustrophobia
Captain Jack Sparrow held his breath as he eased the hatch open, praying he wouldn’t make too much noise.
Yeah, well, he’d known all along he wouldn’t sleep much that night. And he knew he wouldn’t be able to leave young Master Turner down below, all night long, all alone.
That had gone without saying.
He lowered himself down to the floor, quiet as could be, and crept over to where Will lay sprawled out and exhausted. The lad had tossed and turned enough to throw the blanket right off, and there he was, bare-chested and sleeping. With his hair falling in soft curls around his peaceful face and that worry line finally erased, Will looked even younger than his few years.
Jack ghosted his fingertips half an inch over Will’s chest, watching it rise and fall evenly.
He couldn’t take what he wanted without waking the lad, but maybe he could have a little sample.
First, he leaned forward carefully. Got so close those lovely curls tickled his nose. One deep breath and Jack grinned. Nutmeg, he was right. His favourite spice, so very fortuitous.
Will shifted in his sleep and rolled to one side, away from Jack. The pirate found his fingers following Will’s spine, delicately curved, his calloused fingertips hovering over delightful naked skin. So close he could feel the heat radiating off the boy. Perfect.
Bootstrap used to sleep on his side, with Jack wedged firmly between his back and the wall. Couldn’t stand to sleep on the inside, always had to be facing out. Had a fear of suffocating.
Will mumbled something about holding the course steady.
“Aye, steady,” Jack whispered. He took a deep breath of the warm, spicy air and let his hand rest on the curve of Will’s hip.
The flesh under his palm was firm and hot even through the thick linen of Will’s trousers. Will didn’t flinch, didn’t wake.
Jack slid his hand up, hesitating for a moment at the waistband, and then slowly, with the lightest pressure possible, touched the side of Will’s waist.
Hot, incredibly smooth skin, soft, so so smooth. Jack slid his hand up over Will’s ribs, just slightly protruding. Lean but not too skinny, the lad was.
Will murmured softly, shifted slightly, inhaled lightly.
Jack decided he would be more likely to wake him if he lifted his hand off, so he should leave his hand where it was; at least that’s what he told himself.
No further response. Jack let his hand creep up and forward, following ribs, tracing their arc, forward until his hand was in the center of Will’s body. Heartbeat echoing beneath his hand.
Will inhaled deeply in his sleep. As the ribcage expanded, Jack felt his hand rise over Will’s breath. The exhalation was slow and shuddering. And Will smiled in his sleep.
Jack inched his hand down until it pressed against Will’s stomach, navel centered under Jack’s palm. A faint ‘hmm’ escaped the boy’s lips, and Jack suddenly couldn’t breathe.
Jack wanted to get another look at those enticing nipples, but Will’s arm was flung across his chest in a most irritatingly obscuring manner. Jack could picture them, brown and hard, begging to be kissed. Must have more.
He cautiously, delicately, leisurely rubbed gentle circles on the taut skin. Fingers trailed over flawless skin, interrupted periodically by that line of silky soft dark hair. He wanted to taste the skin, rub his lips over the hair. Taste the salt and vanilla and nutmeg scent. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. Couldn’t even take a breath.
He was being suffocated by the boy’s beauty. That’s what it was. In the almost darkness his sleek skin almost glowed. The graceful lines and planes and curves of sun-kissed gold filled Jack’s head, filled the hold with the overwhelming scent, filled his body with punishing and debilitating desire. As if every breath Will took was stolen directly from Jack’s lungs.
He could not believe himself. Rubbing the boy’s belly, as if he was some kind of pet. Moreover, this was embarrassingly tame. He, Captain Jack Sparrow, was treating this boy like some sort of fragile treasure.
He was aroused beyond belief, cursing himself for enjoying the sound and feeling of air going in and out of a naïve, innocent, righteous, terrified, priggish, anti-pirate…
But Will made a sound Jack could not have anticipated.
He purred.
Honest to God, he purred. Just like Bootstrap used to. Jack would never have bet that something so pure, so involuntary, so erotic, could be inherited.
Will shifted again, pushing into Jack’s hand, arching his back gracefully then pressing forward. Jack sped up his hand slightly, pressing back against the boy’s belly. He curled his fingers slightly, raking them through the walnut-coloured hair as they passed it. Caught the rough edge of a nail on a curl. The purr deepened into a growl.
Jack watched Will’s face as the little line of worry reappeared, brows knit closer together. He could see Will’s eyes moving beneath closed lids. Full lips (would they taste of the vanilla and nutmeg Jack could smell?) opened and the sight of a wet, pink tongue dragging along Will’s upper lip mesmerized Jack.
He might have traded his claim on the Black Pearl to have that tongue draw across his own lips, if anyone had been willing to give him the option.
Then Will opened his eyes.
Next: Chapter 6 In Dreams
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