"Contradictions 8 - Claimed" Part 7
Aug. 29th, 2005 10:42 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
veronica_richThis is a continuation of a fic. See Part 1 for disclaimers, description, etc.
Something outside him moved, and he arched into it, drowsy and aroused. More movement, and Will opened his lids partway to stare at the back of an ear.
It was small and nicely shaped, stapled with metal posts halfway up the shell. A thick lock of black hair was apparently caught, looped around the front of a post; Will reached up and gently tugged it free, pulling it back to place against the graceful curve of Jack’s neck into his shoulder.
Bare shoulder. Will’s eyes followed the line down his arm until it blended visually into hip and thigh from his vantage point. They must’ve gotten overwarm sometime in the night and kicked off the blanket, now wound around both their feet.
Two whores were the sum total of his intimate sexual experience. Two patient, older prostitutes down off the docks of Port Royale had taken on Will one night when he’d had a few ales to bolster his courage into a ménage a trois. He grinned, figuring Jack would never guess such a thing; nor would anyone else. It wasn’t something he necessarily cared to repeat, but at the time, his hazy brain and stiff, needy cock had found the proliferation of body parts and wet mouths all on one bed exceedingly interesting. He remembered being grateful for their professional discretion later on – when he’d had occasion to deliver a sword down near the docks the following week, the two gave him a cursory look-over, but said nothing as the blushing almost-man hurried past them. He’d taken the long walk around back home to the shop.
“Mmm, must be a ‘ell of a dream.” Jack’s gravelly voice interrupted his memories.
“Hmm?” was all Will could think to rebut, not even moving. This was entirely too comfortable, too lovely.
“Nice way t’ wake up.” With that, Jack arched in a rub against him, and Will realized his half-erection tucked against the crease of the man’s backside. “Dare I ask what’s on your mind? Or who?”
“Oh.” It was a softer exclamation than his brain intended; the deliberate, slow slide of firm muscle against his penis was a bit more than his mental faculties could resist this early in the day. “I- Just you.” He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply with another slow, catlike rub of Jack’s arse. “I- Oh, yeah … Jack, it’s … it’s … kind of starting t-to … chafe …”
At that, Jack stopped and turned forward a little into his pillow away from Will, shoulders shaking. He released Will’s fingers to do it, balancing his hand against the mattress. Will was at first alarmed that he’d somehow hurt Jack’s feelings, said the wrong thing, but he soon heard the muffled guffaws, and concern turned to surprise. “Are you laughing at me?”
A quick nod, more laughter, and then Jack rolled completely onto his stomach, turning his head to look up at Will, tossing some hair back over his shoulder to do it and coughing. “Can’t say as that’s somethin’ I’ve had occasion t’ hear in bed before,” he managed to choke out.
Will’s face suffused with heat. “Oh. I didn’t-“
“No, no – I ‘spect it’s more honest than tha’ claptrap I usually hear ‘bout ‘Oh, yes, Jack, oh yes, right there, Captain,’” he explained, the last part all falsetto and batted eyelashes.
Lips twitching up on one corner, Will nodded deliberately. “Fine. Make fun of me just because I know better than to go at it dry-handed-“ He was cut off by a sudden hoot of laughter; Jack dropped his head and collapsed into it again. Far from being annoyed, Will had to fight back a stupid grin. “You son of a bitch.”
When he could finally prop himself up on his elbows and take a breath, Jack shook his head. “Hey, be nice t’ me mother,” he warned. “Weren’ for her puttin’ up with Da, you’d just be here jerkin’ off and talkin’ to yourself.”
“Oh, I’d be all alone, you think?” Rolling to his back, Will laced his fingers beneath his head and fixed his eyes on the plank ceiling. “So you think you’re the only one I’d be bringing down here, Captain?”
“You’re much too virtuous t’ be bringing all manner of sailors an’ strumpets back t’ your den,” Jack retorted, sitting up in a rustle of sheets and jingle of baubles. “Die a monk, ye would – swear t’ God.”
“Ah.” Will scooted his right foot back, raising the knee, and let his left foot fall to the side. It was a conscious, gradual opening of his body; he kept his eyes on the ceiling, not quite ready to offer himself and look Jack in the eye all at once. “Yes, I know … I look like such the shrinking violet.”
Murmuring in approval, Jack pressed a hand to the center of Will’s abdomen and leaned closer. “Definitely not shrinking.” He splayed his fingers, turning the hand downward, and slid it past Will’s navel. “Purple, somewhat, maybe …”
He closed his eyes, tilting his chin into the air as he buried the back of his head into the pillow, when those fingers burrowed into the tight curls nuzzling the base of his prick. “Come on, Will,” Jack coaxed, voice rumbling. “Say somethin’ else about me dubious parentage.” Two fingers bracketed the rod, lifting toward the head. “What’s th’ matter, darlin’?”
He couldn’t help the soft, strangled moan from the back of his throat. Nobody had ever given him this much attention, and he didn’t realize how his body craved touch – especially Jack’s calloused, firm touch. And words. And Jack. “You … how?” he breathed.
“Just like this, love.” The fingers turned into a whole hand, fisting and stroking, and sliding down between his legs to cup and roll loose, hard scrotum. Will let his knees fall aside without prompting this time, and one long finger slid lower, stroking the smooth, satiny distance over his prostate back toward his arse. At something flicking against his lips, Will opened his eyes and his mouth, and Jack’s tongue delved between his lips as his dark eyes fixed on Will’s wide ones.
“Like that?” he asked, the tip of his tongue lazily swiping the roof of Will’s mouth, down over his teeth and behind them. His finger kept stroking, reaching back further each time, and Will blinked rapidly, breath held.
Agile, Jack rose to his knees and forced both between Will’s thighs, balancing himself on the heels of his hands on either side of the man’s shoulders. With deliberate, slow strokes, he angled his own hard cock against Will’s perineum and dragged it back and forth, pushing up and angling back like a stretching cat. Desperate to touch him, Will reached up and framed his neck with his hands, then angled down until his forefingers brushed Jack’s tight, dark nipples.
Jack paused, faltered, exhaling raggedly. His lips parted on a gasp, his eyes closed, head back. Will tried again, heady with his success. Taking full advantage of his strong abdominals, he curled up and licked at a nipple, twice, lying back slowly and holding Jack’s suddenly open eyes – and smiling up at the man. He was giddy again, the heat in those eyes incredible and possessive.
Will had little time, however, to marvel at what he could do to Jack before the man was on him, slanting his mouth across the smith’s. Their tongues met, twined, scraped beneath teeth as Jack gave up propping himself and simply pressed into Will. His hands moved along Will’s sides and over his hips, while Will gripped Jack’s shoulders and then lower, hands on his back. They kissed wildly, open-mouthed, gradually narrowing their frantic tonguing into long, slow, deep kisses. Jack reached up and threaded the fingers of his right hand into Will’s sweat-dampened hair; Will reached lower and curled his large hands over the firm swell of Jack’s buttocks.
“I want you,” he whispered between kisses, surprised at the need in his voice, the ache in his chest. “Jack …”
“Yeah.” Another, softer kiss. “I know, Will.”
He opened his eyes. Jack lifted off his mouth and nuzzled his nose, butting at it with the tip of his own. They both smiled, rubbing noses as Will stared up into those gold-flecked deep, brown eyes. “You want me, too,” he murmured over the nervous pounding of his heart.
“Ought t’ be somewhere more comfortable than this,” Jack answered, voice hushed.
“No.” Will shook his head. “I want to be able to look over here when I’m working, and see you like this in my mind. Anytime I like.”
“Will …” He trailed off, seemed to be thinking carefully. “I’m not goin’ anywhere – we can do this anytime ye like. I’m just thinkin’ it should be someplace more spacious, and fitting-“
“What’s more fitting than a smithy?” Will sat up, and Jack leaned back, until they were vertical, Jack kneeling between Will’s long legs stretched out. “We met in one; it’s where I beat you for the first-“
“Hey-“ Jack started to protest, but Will pulled him close and kissed his neck.
“Hey, yourself,” he shushed.
“Don’t try t’ distract me from righteous indignation,” Jack pouted. He was, Will reflected, lovely when he pursed his lips like that – and said as much. “Ohh,” Jack nodded. “First, ‘m beautiful, then, lovely. What’s next? Precious? Sweet?”
“Jack, I swear to Christ himself I would never accuse you of ‘sweet.’”
“Well, that’s that, at least,” Jack grumbled good-naturedly, sitting back on his heels and resting his arms on Will’s shoulders, fingers playing with the ends of Will’s hair. “But no, really – I don’ have anything t’ ease the way, so to speak. Be hard to-“ He paused at Will’s smirk and rolled his eyes. “Be difficult to do without th’ proper supplies.”
“You’re just trying to get back to your cabin,” Will pointed out.
“I see nothin’ wrong with takin’ this to a nice, comfy bed, if that’s what ye mean, no.” He shifted, and winced. “Better on our bruises, I’d think, too.”
He had a point. “Maybe,” Will hedged. There was something about having Jack in his smithy, in his space, that gave all this a more serious cast than it perhaps deserved. After all, the captain could simply be making sport with his blacksmith – neither had exactly pledged his undying affection to the other. The fact it felt more than casual to Will himself might mean very little. Which was why he hated to lose it so soon. “Morning’s not far off; you’ve got to rest a day or two, at least, Ben said. Let it come and we’ll see if it’s safe for us to-“ He caught and corrected himself. “Safe for you to move.”
Jack draped his arms around Will’s shoulders and leaned in. “You know,” he confided with glittering eyes, “you’re always welcome in me cabin. For any reason.”
“I didn’t want to presume-“ He was cut off by Jack turning his head to the side and laughing, a rich, happy sound. “What now?”
“You’ll throw yourself on me for a kiss, but ye don’t wan’ presume about stayin’ over?”
“There’s a hell of a lot of difference between doing this, and … that.” Will felt his nostrils flare in annoyance.
Jack scaled his chuckling back to merely a secret smile. “Yes,” he agreed. “There is.”
Will felt his ire dissipate, replaced once again by that stupid grin he was really afraid of becoming part of his permanent expression around Jack. “You said you didn’t expect anything more permanent,” he pointed out. Oh, there’s the butterflies, after all.
“And I’m not sayin’ it now, either. Since when has courting e’er been a sure thing, lad?”
“Ohh.” Will’s grin widened. “Are you courting me, then, Jack Sparrow?”
“Captain,” Jack reminded him.
“Just answer the question, sir.”
The older man rolled his eyes in what appeared amused resignation. “Why yes, it ‘pears I am. I am courtin’ an extremely slow, polite sort of sword-thrower.” With that, he dropped his fingers to Will’s sides and tickled. When Will twitched, Jack kept at it, chuckling. “Just checkin’ to see that th’ rest of your reflexes aren’ as slow as your brain.”
“Jack!” He wriggled, trying to scoot away, which was difficult given their positions. “Stop it! Don’t, Jack!” He reached down to catch those infernal hands, more put out by his own unmanly giggle than the actual tickling. “Cut it out, dammit!” He finally caught hold of Jack’s wrists, tightly, and pulled them to his chest, forcing the man closer. “That isn’t going to work in an argument.”
“I seemed t’ be doin’ pretty well before ye decided to employ brute force,” Jack pointed out, gazing down into his eyes. Then the pirate blinked.
Slowly.
And blinked again. Also slowly.
And when Jack only raised his lids halfway, peeking through long, black lashes, Will realized he was flirting. Jack parted his lips, licked the lower one, and dropped his gaze to Will’s mouth. Oh, Christ he thought, wondering how he could’ve thought he ever wanted anyone else before meeting this man.
What part of Jack’s hair not done up in dreadlocks and partially stiffened by sea salt was surprisingly soft. Will plunged his fingers into the dark mess after he pulled Jack to the mattress, rolling until the man was pinned beneath him. He started with his forehead, kissing a line to the bridge of Jack’s nose, then down until the tips of their noses brushed, at which point Jack opened his eyes to stare into Will’s again.
Wordlessly, Will kissed him. He took his time, engaging Jack’s tongue in a long, complex dance of wet heat before drawing off and aiming his mouth at the underside of Jack’s chin. He bit into one of the short beard braids and tugged gently, eliciting a soft laugh from its owner, then hid a grin against the hollow of Jack’s neck.
He moved lower, exploring, sucking tenderly at the man’s right nipple. When it was hard – and he could feel Jack was, too – he kept at it, licking and blowing, until Jack was writhing and groaning in a mixture of protest and approval. Trailing down further, Will licked into the thin line of fine, dark hair wandering into Jack’s navel, and let his tongue follow. Resting on one elbow, he brought the other hand to Jack’s hip, palming the slope of it. Then, he scooted back, moving lower, stopping just shy of the wiry, dark curls looping over one another between the man’s thighs.
Lifting up, Will regarded the erect, curving rod. Its length stretched the confines of the foreskin; a sheen of viscous stickiness gathered at the tip. Curious, he leaned in and swiped at it with the tip of his tongue, finding it salty-sweet but of an intriguing consistency. All that rum, no doubt. He flicked his eyes up to find Jack propped on his elbows, watching, not breathing, eyes wide and wishful and hopeful.
Daring to hold that stare, Will lowered his shoulders, keeping his lower back arched, and wrapped his lips around the tip. He went partway down before drawing off; when he did it again, he added a bit of a suck, and Jack’s breath rushed out in a ragged, pronounced sigh. The more he swallowed, the tighter he sucked, the more Jack’s head tilted back until it was nearly upside down, only the underside of his chin visible above the propped shoulders and exposed throat. Will found the vulnerable posture sexy as hell, and took a deep breath before forcing himself to swallow all the way to the root of Jack’s cock.
That’s when he finally arched his hips into it, following Will’s mouth as it released. The smith swallowed again, bobbing his head, the flat of his tongue tracing the ridged vein under the penis. He brought a hand close to cup Jack’s bollocks, rolling and stroking and feeling as he sucked, feeling a sense of wonder as they tightened and drew into their host body, the more he aroused Jack. Pulling off, he fisted the cock and stroked a few times, lubricating his hand on the meager fluids, then applied his mouth once more as he reached down between his own legs.
“Yeah … yeah, Will, there, oh Jesus,” Jack panted. He slid against the sheets, rubbing his backside as he helped with the friction. He was still propped on his elbows, hands curled into the material beneath him, legs sprawled. “Lick it, suck it, sweetheart … ye know what you’re doin’, oh, hell …”
Will pumped himself frantically, his sucking becoming firmer, shallower. His jaw was getting tired, but like anything he started, he was determined to finish in style and with quality. Jack’s hips stiffened, tightened, and Will stopped his hand, concentrating totally on getting his lover off for the moment. It was a good thing, too, for the load was too much for his inexperience, and he pulled off, choking, alternately swallowing and coughing. He sat back on his heels, reflexively licking his lips and reaching up to wipe the excess from his lower lip and goatee.
Jack sat up, swiftly pulling him down in a tangle of limbs. Will soon felt a hand on his prick, thumbing and pumping, as Jack’s tongue forced his lips apart and licked into his mouth. Instead of being disgusted, Will pushed back. He pumped his hips and his tongue, and Jack swallowed and stroked, and their cries drowned out the whip-fast pounding of Will’s blood behind his ears.
And then he came, feeling it shoot out as copiously as Jack’s had, and when he was done, he dropped against the body under his. He felt dirty and sweaty and sticky, and when he opened one lazy eye on Jack, he found the other man studying him with new respect and affection. He spoke, voice drawling and honeyed.
“Anyone ever tell ye what a good fuck ye are, Turner?”
*****
On to the final part ...
Something outside him moved, and he arched into it, drowsy and aroused. More movement, and Will opened his lids partway to stare at the back of an ear.
It was small and nicely shaped, stapled with metal posts halfway up the shell. A thick lock of black hair was apparently caught, looped around the front of a post; Will reached up and gently tugged it free, pulling it back to place against the graceful curve of Jack’s neck into his shoulder.
Bare shoulder. Will’s eyes followed the line down his arm until it blended visually into hip and thigh from his vantage point. They must’ve gotten overwarm sometime in the night and kicked off the blanket, now wound around both their feet.
Two whores were the sum total of his intimate sexual experience. Two patient, older prostitutes down off the docks of Port Royale had taken on Will one night when he’d had a few ales to bolster his courage into a ménage a trois. He grinned, figuring Jack would never guess such a thing; nor would anyone else. It wasn’t something he necessarily cared to repeat, but at the time, his hazy brain and stiff, needy cock had found the proliferation of body parts and wet mouths all on one bed exceedingly interesting. He remembered being grateful for their professional discretion later on – when he’d had occasion to deliver a sword down near the docks the following week, the two gave him a cursory look-over, but said nothing as the blushing almost-man hurried past them. He’d taken the long walk around back home to the shop.
“Mmm, must be a ‘ell of a dream.” Jack’s gravelly voice interrupted his memories.
“Hmm?” was all Will could think to rebut, not even moving. This was entirely too comfortable, too lovely.
“Nice way t’ wake up.” With that, Jack arched in a rub against him, and Will realized his half-erection tucked against the crease of the man’s backside. “Dare I ask what’s on your mind? Or who?”
“Oh.” It was a softer exclamation than his brain intended; the deliberate, slow slide of firm muscle against his penis was a bit more than his mental faculties could resist this early in the day. “I- Just you.” He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply with another slow, catlike rub of Jack’s arse. “I- Oh, yeah … Jack, it’s … it’s … kind of starting t-to … chafe …”
At that, Jack stopped and turned forward a little into his pillow away from Will, shoulders shaking. He released Will’s fingers to do it, balancing his hand against the mattress. Will was at first alarmed that he’d somehow hurt Jack’s feelings, said the wrong thing, but he soon heard the muffled guffaws, and concern turned to surprise. “Are you laughing at me?”
A quick nod, more laughter, and then Jack rolled completely onto his stomach, turning his head to look up at Will, tossing some hair back over his shoulder to do it and coughing. “Can’t say as that’s somethin’ I’ve had occasion t’ hear in bed before,” he managed to choke out.
Will’s face suffused with heat. “Oh. I didn’t-“
“No, no – I ‘spect it’s more honest than tha’ claptrap I usually hear ‘bout ‘Oh, yes, Jack, oh yes, right there, Captain,’” he explained, the last part all falsetto and batted eyelashes.
Lips twitching up on one corner, Will nodded deliberately. “Fine. Make fun of me just because I know better than to go at it dry-handed-“ He was cut off by a sudden hoot of laughter; Jack dropped his head and collapsed into it again. Far from being annoyed, Will had to fight back a stupid grin. “You son of a bitch.”
When he could finally prop himself up on his elbows and take a breath, Jack shook his head. “Hey, be nice t’ me mother,” he warned. “Weren’ for her puttin’ up with Da, you’d just be here jerkin’ off and talkin’ to yourself.”
“Oh, I’d be all alone, you think?” Rolling to his back, Will laced his fingers beneath his head and fixed his eyes on the plank ceiling. “So you think you’re the only one I’d be bringing down here, Captain?”
“You’re much too virtuous t’ be bringing all manner of sailors an’ strumpets back t’ your den,” Jack retorted, sitting up in a rustle of sheets and jingle of baubles. “Die a monk, ye would – swear t’ God.”
“Ah.” Will scooted his right foot back, raising the knee, and let his left foot fall to the side. It was a conscious, gradual opening of his body; he kept his eyes on the ceiling, not quite ready to offer himself and look Jack in the eye all at once. “Yes, I know … I look like such the shrinking violet.”
Murmuring in approval, Jack pressed a hand to the center of Will’s abdomen and leaned closer. “Definitely not shrinking.” He splayed his fingers, turning the hand downward, and slid it past Will’s navel. “Purple, somewhat, maybe …”
He closed his eyes, tilting his chin into the air as he buried the back of his head into the pillow, when those fingers burrowed into the tight curls nuzzling the base of his prick. “Come on, Will,” Jack coaxed, voice rumbling. “Say somethin’ else about me dubious parentage.” Two fingers bracketed the rod, lifting toward the head. “What’s th’ matter, darlin’?”
He couldn’t help the soft, strangled moan from the back of his throat. Nobody had ever given him this much attention, and he didn’t realize how his body craved touch – especially Jack’s calloused, firm touch. And words. And Jack. “You … how?” he breathed.
“Just like this, love.” The fingers turned into a whole hand, fisting and stroking, and sliding down between his legs to cup and roll loose, hard scrotum. Will let his knees fall aside without prompting this time, and one long finger slid lower, stroking the smooth, satiny distance over his prostate back toward his arse. At something flicking against his lips, Will opened his eyes and his mouth, and Jack’s tongue delved between his lips as his dark eyes fixed on Will’s wide ones.
“Like that?” he asked, the tip of his tongue lazily swiping the roof of Will’s mouth, down over his teeth and behind them. His finger kept stroking, reaching back further each time, and Will blinked rapidly, breath held.
Agile, Jack rose to his knees and forced both between Will’s thighs, balancing himself on the heels of his hands on either side of the man’s shoulders. With deliberate, slow strokes, he angled his own hard cock against Will’s perineum and dragged it back and forth, pushing up and angling back like a stretching cat. Desperate to touch him, Will reached up and framed his neck with his hands, then angled down until his forefingers brushed Jack’s tight, dark nipples.
Jack paused, faltered, exhaling raggedly. His lips parted on a gasp, his eyes closed, head back. Will tried again, heady with his success. Taking full advantage of his strong abdominals, he curled up and licked at a nipple, twice, lying back slowly and holding Jack’s suddenly open eyes – and smiling up at the man. He was giddy again, the heat in those eyes incredible and possessive.
Will had little time, however, to marvel at what he could do to Jack before the man was on him, slanting his mouth across the smith’s. Their tongues met, twined, scraped beneath teeth as Jack gave up propping himself and simply pressed into Will. His hands moved along Will’s sides and over his hips, while Will gripped Jack’s shoulders and then lower, hands on his back. They kissed wildly, open-mouthed, gradually narrowing their frantic tonguing into long, slow, deep kisses. Jack reached up and threaded the fingers of his right hand into Will’s sweat-dampened hair; Will reached lower and curled his large hands over the firm swell of Jack’s buttocks.
“I want you,” he whispered between kisses, surprised at the need in his voice, the ache in his chest. “Jack …”
“Yeah.” Another, softer kiss. “I know, Will.”
He opened his eyes. Jack lifted off his mouth and nuzzled his nose, butting at it with the tip of his own. They both smiled, rubbing noses as Will stared up into those gold-flecked deep, brown eyes. “You want me, too,” he murmured over the nervous pounding of his heart.
“Ought t’ be somewhere more comfortable than this,” Jack answered, voice hushed.
“No.” Will shook his head. “I want to be able to look over here when I’m working, and see you like this in my mind. Anytime I like.”
“Will …” He trailed off, seemed to be thinking carefully. “I’m not goin’ anywhere – we can do this anytime ye like. I’m just thinkin’ it should be someplace more spacious, and fitting-“
“What’s more fitting than a smithy?” Will sat up, and Jack leaned back, until they were vertical, Jack kneeling between Will’s long legs stretched out. “We met in one; it’s where I beat you for the first-“
“Hey-“ Jack started to protest, but Will pulled him close and kissed his neck.
“Hey, yourself,” he shushed.
“Don’t try t’ distract me from righteous indignation,” Jack pouted. He was, Will reflected, lovely when he pursed his lips like that – and said as much. “Ohh,” Jack nodded. “First, ‘m beautiful, then, lovely. What’s next? Precious? Sweet?”
“Jack, I swear to Christ himself I would never accuse you of ‘sweet.’”
“Well, that’s that, at least,” Jack grumbled good-naturedly, sitting back on his heels and resting his arms on Will’s shoulders, fingers playing with the ends of Will’s hair. “But no, really – I don’ have anything t’ ease the way, so to speak. Be hard to-“ He paused at Will’s smirk and rolled his eyes. “Be difficult to do without th’ proper supplies.”
“You’re just trying to get back to your cabin,” Will pointed out.
“I see nothin’ wrong with takin’ this to a nice, comfy bed, if that’s what ye mean, no.” He shifted, and winced. “Better on our bruises, I’d think, too.”
He had a point. “Maybe,” Will hedged. There was something about having Jack in his smithy, in his space, that gave all this a more serious cast than it perhaps deserved. After all, the captain could simply be making sport with his blacksmith – neither had exactly pledged his undying affection to the other. The fact it felt more than casual to Will himself might mean very little. Which was why he hated to lose it so soon. “Morning’s not far off; you’ve got to rest a day or two, at least, Ben said. Let it come and we’ll see if it’s safe for us to-“ He caught and corrected himself. “Safe for you to move.”
Jack draped his arms around Will’s shoulders and leaned in. “You know,” he confided with glittering eyes, “you’re always welcome in me cabin. For any reason.”
“I didn’t want to presume-“ He was cut off by Jack turning his head to the side and laughing, a rich, happy sound. “What now?”
“You’ll throw yourself on me for a kiss, but ye don’t wan’ presume about stayin’ over?”
“There’s a hell of a lot of difference between doing this, and … that.” Will felt his nostrils flare in annoyance.
Jack scaled his chuckling back to merely a secret smile. “Yes,” he agreed. “There is.”
Will felt his ire dissipate, replaced once again by that stupid grin he was really afraid of becoming part of his permanent expression around Jack. “You said you didn’t expect anything more permanent,” he pointed out. Oh, there’s the butterflies, after all.
“And I’m not sayin’ it now, either. Since when has courting e’er been a sure thing, lad?”
“Ohh.” Will’s grin widened. “Are you courting me, then, Jack Sparrow?”
“Captain,” Jack reminded him.
“Just answer the question, sir.”
The older man rolled his eyes in what appeared amused resignation. “Why yes, it ‘pears I am. I am courtin’ an extremely slow, polite sort of sword-thrower.” With that, he dropped his fingers to Will’s sides and tickled. When Will twitched, Jack kept at it, chuckling. “Just checkin’ to see that th’ rest of your reflexes aren’ as slow as your brain.”
“Jack!” He wriggled, trying to scoot away, which was difficult given their positions. “Stop it! Don’t, Jack!” He reached down to catch those infernal hands, more put out by his own unmanly giggle than the actual tickling. “Cut it out, dammit!” He finally caught hold of Jack’s wrists, tightly, and pulled them to his chest, forcing the man closer. “That isn’t going to work in an argument.”
“I seemed t’ be doin’ pretty well before ye decided to employ brute force,” Jack pointed out, gazing down into his eyes. Then the pirate blinked.
Slowly.
And blinked again. Also slowly.
And when Jack only raised his lids halfway, peeking through long, black lashes, Will realized he was flirting. Jack parted his lips, licked the lower one, and dropped his gaze to Will’s mouth. Oh, Christ he thought, wondering how he could’ve thought he ever wanted anyone else before meeting this man.
What part of Jack’s hair not done up in dreadlocks and partially stiffened by sea salt was surprisingly soft. Will plunged his fingers into the dark mess after he pulled Jack to the mattress, rolling until the man was pinned beneath him. He started with his forehead, kissing a line to the bridge of Jack’s nose, then down until the tips of their noses brushed, at which point Jack opened his eyes to stare into Will’s again.
Wordlessly, Will kissed him. He took his time, engaging Jack’s tongue in a long, complex dance of wet heat before drawing off and aiming his mouth at the underside of Jack’s chin. He bit into one of the short beard braids and tugged gently, eliciting a soft laugh from its owner, then hid a grin against the hollow of Jack’s neck.
He moved lower, exploring, sucking tenderly at the man’s right nipple. When it was hard – and he could feel Jack was, too – he kept at it, licking and blowing, until Jack was writhing and groaning in a mixture of protest and approval. Trailing down further, Will licked into the thin line of fine, dark hair wandering into Jack’s navel, and let his tongue follow. Resting on one elbow, he brought the other hand to Jack’s hip, palming the slope of it. Then, he scooted back, moving lower, stopping just shy of the wiry, dark curls looping over one another between the man’s thighs.
Lifting up, Will regarded the erect, curving rod. Its length stretched the confines of the foreskin; a sheen of viscous stickiness gathered at the tip. Curious, he leaned in and swiped at it with the tip of his tongue, finding it salty-sweet but of an intriguing consistency. All that rum, no doubt. He flicked his eyes up to find Jack propped on his elbows, watching, not breathing, eyes wide and wishful and hopeful.
Daring to hold that stare, Will lowered his shoulders, keeping his lower back arched, and wrapped his lips around the tip. He went partway down before drawing off; when he did it again, he added a bit of a suck, and Jack’s breath rushed out in a ragged, pronounced sigh. The more he swallowed, the tighter he sucked, the more Jack’s head tilted back until it was nearly upside down, only the underside of his chin visible above the propped shoulders and exposed throat. Will found the vulnerable posture sexy as hell, and took a deep breath before forcing himself to swallow all the way to the root of Jack’s cock.
That’s when he finally arched his hips into it, following Will’s mouth as it released. The smith swallowed again, bobbing his head, the flat of his tongue tracing the ridged vein under the penis. He brought a hand close to cup Jack’s bollocks, rolling and stroking and feeling as he sucked, feeling a sense of wonder as they tightened and drew into their host body, the more he aroused Jack. Pulling off, he fisted the cock and stroked a few times, lubricating his hand on the meager fluids, then applied his mouth once more as he reached down between his own legs.
“Yeah … yeah, Will, there, oh Jesus,” Jack panted. He slid against the sheets, rubbing his backside as he helped with the friction. He was still propped on his elbows, hands curled into the material beneath him, legs sprawled. “Lick it, suck it, sweetheart … ye know what you’re doin’, oh, hell …”
Will pumped himself frantically, his sucking becoming firmer, shallower. His jaw was getting tired, but like anything he started, he was determined to finish in style and with quality. Jack’s hips stiffened, tightened, and Will stopped his hand, concentrating totally on getting his lover off for the moment. It was a good thing, too, for the load was too much for his inexperience, and he pulled off, choking, alternately swallowing and coughing. He sat back on his heels, reflexively licking his lips and reaching up to wipe the excess from his lower lip and goatee.
Jack sat up, swiftly pulling him down in a tangle of limbs. Will soon felt a hand on his prick, thumbing and pumping, as Jack’s tongue forced his lips apart and licked into his mouth. Instead of being disgusted, Will pushed back. He pumped his hips and his tongue, and Jack swallowed and stroked, and their cries drowned out the whip-fast pounding of Will’s blood behind his ears.
And then he came, feeling it shoot out as copiously as Jack’s had, and when he was done, he dropped against the body under his. He felt dirty and sweaty and sticky, and when he opened one lazy eye on Jack, he found the other man studying him with new respect and affection. He spoke, voice drawling and honeyed.
“Anyone ever tell ye what a good fuck ye are, Turner?”
*****
On to the final part ...
