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I don’t own the characters. I just borrowed them. If I did own them the movie would have been very different, and that ain’t no lie.
Turnaround is Fair Play
Bootstrap Bill Turner was almost six feet tall, lean but solid, with long chestnut coloured hair and penetrating dark eyes. He had a narrow, sculpted sort of face, strong jaw line and full, moist lips. His tanned skin was smooth, stretched over powerful muscles, sprinkled with a little bit of soft dark hair on his chest, his belly and below.
He had a perfectly lovely cock, smooth like polished marble when it was hard, which was often, and it leaked copiously when he was getting ready to come. A nice fistful around, decent yet not overwhelming in length, exquisite round head on it ever so much larger than the shaft, but not obscenely so.
And, of course, he had the most perfect arse on the ocean, round and high and firm and it looked particularly attractive when he was on his hands and knees, waiting for Captain Jack Sparrow to fuck him into oblivion. Which had been also often.
These were the things Jack reminded himself of, over and over, as he and Will travelled from the Interceptor to the dock to meet their new crew.
He willed himself to not look at the ravishing young man in front of him, who looked so much like his dear, deceased father. He would not think about young Will Turner in that manner at all, not any more. It was indecent and unfair to the lad. If he was to be plagued by thoughts of Bootstrap, he would relieve himself to memories of Bootstrap. He would not try to steal those memories from, or impose those memories on, an innocent young man.
It would be difficult to keep to that resolution the next time Jack had to look up and watch Will, say, climbing a ladder above him. Or he had to stand beside a bare-chested Will as he splashed water on his face from a barrel of rainwater aboard the Interceptor, as he had that very morning. Or perhaps a thousand other tempting situations.
But he resolved to be strong, and let the young Mr. Turner be.
Will Turner rowed toward the dock silently pondering his newfound attraction to the dishevelled pirate he was ferrying across the bay. How could it be that he, a perfectly ordinary and normal man in every way, was attracted not only to another man, but to the most disreputable and questionable man he had ever met?
But Will wasn’t a perfectly ordinary and normal man, was he? He was the son of a pirate. And he had obviously inherited his disreputable and questionable ways from his father. How else to explain this unbidden and forbidden lust that seethed deep in his loins?
Two days ago he would never have thought such a sentence, let alone actually pondered what these feelings meant. So much for being constant and true.
But being the adventurous sort at heart, he speculated about what it would be like to act on these strange feelings of desire.
Eccentric, yes, but Captain Jack Sparrow was not without his charms. Oh, he was a rascal, to be sure. And filthy, but that could be fixed with some hot water and soap. And a comb, a comb would definitely be required. New clothes of course. And a week away from rum.
That last one might be a sticking point.
But the Captain was attractive. He had a handsome face, lively black eyes and a charmingly wicked smile. The gold teeth were a bit off-putting, at first, but Will had grown used to them. Jack was older than Will, but still in fine physical form. Surprising, really, considering all the rum. The pirate could certainly hold his own in a sword fight, and Will found himself wondering how that agility might translate to more intimate activities.
It was of no use, though. Will had no real experience with more intimate activities. He had no way of knowing how his naïve imaginings would compare with the real thing. Up until last night, all of his youthful imaginings had been about Elizabeth.
Elizabeth, who was being held captive by those despicable pirates on the Black Pearl. He was wasting valuable time - time he should be using to rescue her, not wondering about an illicit liaison with a pirate who was not so different from her captors.
He rowed harder, desperate to get to the dock as soon as possible. He had to find Elizabeth and get away from this terrible temptation.
Last night, after what he saw on deck, he’d lain back down on the rough bed, unable to sleep, unable to rest. Unable to stop thinking. The pirate desired him, and he desired the pirate.
The throbbing in his cock made it hard for him to concentrate. He reckoned since he’d already fouled himself by craving the pirate, he might as well go ahead and settle his nerves by satisfying his bodily urges as well.
Will had stretched back on the bed and run his hand down his chest. He’d never considered a male chest attractive before, but it felt good under his hand. The skin was smooth, the flesh firm. He’d circled a fingertip experimentally around one nipple. The little nub hardened and his breath caught in his throat. Interesting, as Jack might say.
His other hand had opened the fastenings on his trousers and slid inside to grip his hard cock. He’d closed his eyes and pictured the roguish captain. What would it feel like to hold him? His body would be hard, strong, demanding… Will had bit his lip as he imagined how Jack’s moustache would tickle when they kissed, how his hands would feel tangled in Will’s hair. He’d worked his hand up and down the length of his cock faster.
He’d been rock hard, smooth as polished marble. The head of his cock was bulbous, considerably wider than the shaft but not disgustingly so. The skin folded back from the round head when he was hard, so cool air had swept over the moist tip. He’d stopped toying with his nipple and reached down to run a rough fingertip over the leaking head of his cock.
Some intuition, or instinct, or whim, had made him raise his hand to his lips, and as the other hand brought him over the edge he’d licked his wet fingers. The salty taste had made his tongue tingle. He’d sucked the slippery digits into his mouth to stifle his moan as he came.
An abrupt jar brought Will to his senses. He’d rowed the little boat straight into the piling at the end of the dock.
The pirate was looking at him with a strange expression on his face. As if he wanted to kiss him and slap him across the face at the same time. Will was sure he was imagining the kissing part.
The younger man muttered an apology and climbed up to the dock. He had been sure he was the object of his companion’s desires. He’d been trying all morning to get some confirmation of that. He’d even stood right next to Jack, half-naked as it were, when he washed himself that morning, hoping for some reaction. The infuriating rogue hadn’t made a move in his direction.
Will was starting to worry he would be stuck with an at least partially erect cock and an unquenchable lust for the rest of the journey.
Of course, Will didn’t know the proper etiquette in these matters. He would have to watch and learn. Perhaps the pirate was sending him some sort of signal he couldn’t read. He would be diligent, stay close to the older man, be his very shadow. Wait for the opportune moment.
As Will stood in the boat, Jack got an agonizingly clear view of his arse muscles flexing to keep his balance. Trousers stretched tight over solid thigh muscles. And that delightful forearm bulge as Will gripped the rung of a ladder. He had to stop himself from jumping up and throwing the boy down on the bottom of the boat, ripping off his clothes and giving him the fucking of a lifetime.
Jack watched Will’s exquisite arse disappear over the edge of the dock and sighed. It was so hard to be good. So very hard.
Next: Chapter 9 Breathless
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