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I admit it. This scene was not in the Disney movie. I don’t own the characters. I don’t own the Interceptor. Fortunately, I don’t need to own anything in order to come up with more desirable alternatives to mainstream family fare. And I really do mean I own nothing, so suing would do no good. Honestly, other than my collection of LOTR action figures and my unlicensed Chow Yun-Fat doll, there’s nothing of worth in my house.
Breathless
Some storms are so strong you can’t fight them any longer. You’ll tear yourself apart, as Mr. Gibbs told him a dozen times before Captain Jack Sparrow finally relented and ordered his crew to drop canvas.
They were sufficiently caught up to the Black Pearl that he was confident this would all be over by morning. Now to go below for some much needed rest.
Alas, there was young Mr. Turner. Taking his own rest after a nasty crack on the skull a few minutes earlier. All alone below deck, nursing his wound. Not really a wound, more like a bump. But he was all alone, nonetheless. Did that have anything to do with Jack giving up the helm to Anamaria at that particular point in time?
Jack thought not.
No, he’s completely put Will Turner out of his thoughts. He’d forgotten all about the enticing lad, and was solely concerned with the recapture of his old ship.
A seasoned pirate, he would be able to sleep soundly in spite of wild waves tossing him around, and he would do so while assiduously ignoring the lithe, lovely blacksmith. Yes, he would indeed. Sleep and be fully rested for when he would finally confront that mutinous dog Barbossa.
He was not even going to think about sex. And he certainly wasn’t going to think about having sex with the son of his old lover. And he was most definitely not going to think about how utterly delicious young Mr. Turner looked as he gazed up at his captain, eyes wide with fright. Not used to storms, but that didn’t mean he needed any comforting. No, sir, not from this pirate. He wasn’t going to take advantage of a scared, injured boy.
Will wasn’t afraid of the storm. He wasn’t worried about the little bump on his head, which he had slightly exaggerated, if anyone wanted to be really picky about it, so he could be alone with Jack down below. What he was worried about was whether he looked attractive to the pirate.
Just what would a scoundrel like Jack Sparrow find attractive in another man? Will didn’t have a clue, but he hoped he possessed some quality the pirate would notice.
Jack had been distant ever since they picked up the crew and headed out. Will had no idea why Jack was so intent on catching up with Barbossa. After all, it was Will’s ladylove who was in trouble. But, since he was so determined, he’d been all but ignoring his bewildered young shipmate.
Now Jack lay awkwardly on the narrow bed next to the chair Will sat in.
‘I will not jump the boy, I will not jump the boy,’ Jack repeated in his head.
How was that going to be possible? The boy’s hair, wet from the storm, had escaped its customary binding and fell about his face in dripping ringlets, his dark eyes huge, his sensuous lips parted slightly, the shadows under those lovely cheekbones intensified by the faint light of the lantern, and his brow deeply creased.
‘I’m in love with a brow crease,’ Jack thought to himself, and chuckled out loud.
Will looked insulted. “What is so funny?”
Jack smiled broadly, and propped himself up on his elbows. “D’you always have to be so earnest, lad? Put yer feet up, relax. This is a pirate ship now; you don’t have to be so upstanding.”
That was a good one. Put the boy right off the scent.
Speaking of scent, the quite drenched Will was giving off an enticing aroma. It was that salty spicy warm custard sort of smell, with the nutmeg and the vanilla. For a few seconds, Jack couldn’t tell if he was hungry or aroused.
Definitely aroused, judging by the way his cock sprang into full hardness when the boy got up and sat down on the edge of the bed.
The same bed Jack was lying on.
Will took a deep breath. Now or never. He sat on the narrow ledge with the side of his arse pressed up against Jack’s thigh.
No big deal, he though. He’d broken a condemned man out of jail, stolen a ship of the royal navy, joined a band of highly dubious pirates – after all that, how could the simple act of kissing another man be so earth shattering?
“I, um, what I mean to say…” Will stuttered.
This was definitely interesting. Jack propped himself a little higher, all the better to hear the lad’s soft voice, and appreciate the heat radiating off his lithe body in spite of the cold, wet clothes clinging to his frame. Clinging to a lean waist, and toned thighs, and long well-muscled arms, even clinging to the ridge of Will’s prominent collarbone, right there, below that most exquisite neck tendon with a rapid pulse beating visibly above it.
‘I will NOT jump the boy!’
Why was Will having so much trouble with this? He leaned toward Jack, hoping the pirate would just get the message. He wasn’t sure if he was supposed to ask permission, or talk about what he wanted, or even if he was allowed to want anything at all. He was so nervous he was shaking.
Jack could see the young man was shaking. Whatever could the problem be? And why, oh why, would the boy feel compelled to talk to the one person on the ship who so patently did not have Will’s best interests at heart, only his own?
‘If only he would stop licking his lips like that, then I could ignore the fact that he’s nigh sitting on my lap,’ Jack thought to himself in the instant before thought gave up the ghost and instinct took over.
Instinct helped out by an exceptionally fierce wave, which rocked the ship abruptly starboard and threw Will’s trembling body on top of Jack’s.
So, that was what it was like to kiss a man. Jack’s moustache did not tickle so much as, um, stimulate.
Jack swept his tongue across the luscious lips. Soft, yet firm, pursed in anticipation of a kiss? Or was that some sort of prudery? They parted as Will let out a startled cry.
Oh, yes, he tasted sweet. But nothing at all like custard - more like a fresh peach tart, with ginger and nutmeg and a touch of cream. The vanilla didn’t come through in the taste, although it remained prominent in the scent. How it was that the boy could taste that good when they’d been at sea for days was a mystery Jack didn’t care to ponder. He was far too busy exploring the hot interior of Will’s mouth.
Will allowed Jack’s tongue to have its way with him. Startled, but not scared now. The coarse hairs brushing against his upper lip tingled. Jack’s lips were hard and demanding, which made Will want to open his mouth even more.
He dipped his tongue tentatively toward Jack’s mouth. Slithered below Jack’s tongue, past his lips, into the vaguely rum-flavoured interior. The bottom of Jacks’ tongue was slippery. Shocking how the heat from Jack’s mouth ran into Will, spread through his chest and down between his legs. Instantly.
The tongue was something Will hadn’t quite thought of in his naïve imaginings. Slick and probing. He’d had no idea it would feel so good to have someone lick the backs of his teeth like that. Dizziness washed over him, and he grabbed Jack’s arm for support.
Jack felt the boy swoon, but it took a few seconds for it to register. He was too involved in his explorations to notice until the grip on his bicep began to hurt. He regretfully pulled away from the perfect mouth.
“Y’alright there, lad? That was a nasty wallop on yer skull.” Jack deftly swung Will down so he was lying beside him. Just the way he used to nestle close with Bootstrap.
Will stared up at him. Again with the swirling chocolate depths. Jack’s cock leapt when he looked into those eyes, every damn time.
“Just a little breathless, I guess,” Will panted through swollen lips.
Well, that was something to think about. But he’d have to think about it later. The only thought Jack could pluck from his mind went something along these lines – I guess I won’t need to be dreaming about Bootstrap tonight.
Jack smiled down at him. “And I haven’t even given you anything to be breathless about yet, lad.”
He slid a hand into Will’s loose shirt and searched out – ah, yes - and found one perfect hard little nipple.
The purr that escaped Will’s throat filled the air, drowning out the sounds of the storm and the sea.
“But I will, Mr. Turner, I promise you that.”
Next: Chapter 10 Surrender
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