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Title: A Sea Such As This
Author: heartofslash
Fandom/Pairing: POTC, The Pirate Way, Jack/Will
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: This has nothing at all to do with Disney’s silly-looking sequels. This is the way things really happened…
Note: There were spoilers galore about Dead Man’s Chest, and I needed to respond to them in my usual smutty fashion. Heh.
A Sea Such As This
Will Turner murmured softly and settled his head deeper into the pillow.
Perfect. The exact effect Jack Sparrow had intended. Will had been sleeping fitfully, disturbed by sudden motion, the howl of the wind, the fear of the depths, who knows what. Jack had placed his hand carefully, gently on Will’s belly, and made those even, controlled little circles Will loved so much. Soothing and intimate. They sent Will back to sleep so Jack could get back to what he wanted to do. Which was to admire Will while he slept.
Jack had slept well all the night before, with his arms and legs wrapped around Will and his face buried in Will’s hair, therefore, he could do without sleep tonight. Sometimes, Jack did that on purpose, sleeping extra well one night so he could stay awake the next. He could sense the storms coming, and knew when Will would need him most.
Besides, it was best to stay alert, on seas such as these.
The Pearl was tossing a bit, something Jack would ordinarily observe from the helm, but Jack wasn’t worried. They were far from any dangerous shore, and Anamaria had both the skill and the motivation to keep the Pearl safe.
One more day and they’d be home, safe and sound. Anamaria would be back with her bloody girlfriend and their brat, the crew would get some much needed rest, and he and Will would have the Pearl to themselves at night.
No, Jack did not have to worry about the storm or the ship. He had only to worry about Will.
Will got anxious during storms.
Silly, a grown man with years of experience being spooked by a little wind and rain. Will was fine if he was on deck being tossed about and drenched. As long as he was actively fighting the bad weather, he was fine. But below, in bed, where he couldn’t pull a line or lash himself to the wheel or take some other heroic measure, he got tense.
Perhaps he felt helpless.
Jack grinned in the lamplight.
If this was helpless, then he wanted helpless more often.
Will was naked to the waist, golden skin gleaming, dark nipples pebbled, stomach rising and falling naturally, almost black treasure trail curling wispily under Jack’s fingers. Jack could almost see Will’s heart beating beneath his breast, and could hear every whisper of air in and out of his lungs. Chestnut hair trailed over Will’s shoulder, presenting an ideal nest for Jack’s cheek, but Jack remained upright. It was rare, this chance to look without the distraction of Will’s dark eyes returning his gaze.
This treasure was Jack’s, his to do with as he pleased. His private treasure. Not to be shared.
It was a constant struggle. Jack hated other people ogling his treasure.
Once Will tasted the freedom of nudity, it was hard to keep him clothed. He usually kept his pants on in public; he wasn’t completely childish. But his chest and back, his long arms and strong shoulders, he loved to feel the air on them, the warmth of the sun, the kiss of a gentle rain, the caress of the wind. As if he had to make up for all that time spent cooped up inside, covered in linen and leather, much-needed protection from the fire, but not sensual. Not the way the sea is sensual.
Will was built for the sea. During the day.
At night, if the sea was not calm… it was the danger of drowning. It was not a fear – Will didn’t experience fear the way most men do – more of a concern. He bore it bravely, but it showed through when he slept. The little wrinkle in his brow deepened and his fingers itched at the covers. He made low, disquieted noises. Again, not fearful. More concerned.
When the ship pitched in one direction, Will would clutch at something in the other. The creak of beams would be met by Will’s unconscious query. Is it safe? Should I get up? Do I need to spring into action?
Jack’s hand on Will’s belly soothed those worries. Will’s forehead was smooth, his hands resting peacefully on the blanket. Of course, Jack would have preferred him all the way naked, but when on a rough sea, Will refused to sleep entirely naked. In case he had to leap up and be heroic and manly.
Jack didn’t quite understand that. In his opinion, manliness was hampered by excess clothing. In fact, Will was at his most manly when completely naked.
Hard.
With his hands on Jack’s hips.
It didn’t matter if Will was pounding into Jack or pulling Jack further in. Naked and hands on Jack’s hips with the two of them connected, somehow. Intimately. That was the essence of manliness.
Jack stilled his hand, then reversed direction. Will purred in approval.
Lately, Will seemed to approve of Jack more when he was asleep. When they were both awake, Will had been asking questions. Expressing disquiet about Jack’s reputation. That was troubling.
They’d gone ashore and Will had heard stories. Wild stories about Jack, and Jack was not happy about that at all. There were stories everywhere, always had been; Jack was used to that. But now, now that he and Will were finally together and all was well, Jack wanted the stories to stop.
These recent stories were the worst so far, and not because of their salacious nature. Far from it.
These newer stories seemed intended to make Jack look a right buffoon. Silly stories about cannibals and spirits from the depths and treasure that doesn’t exist. Of Jack needing help from Will, from Elizabeth, to save his very soul.
Utterly absurd.
Jack’s soul was in no danger at all. It was perfectly safe, now that it had been taken out of Jack’s hands.
Will held it. Along with Jack’s heart. And there wasn’t a safer place on earth.
Except Will had been listening to the stories and looking at Jack with questions in his eyes. Challenging Jack to put the rumours to rest.
Why, I’d be delighted, Jack thought; Will had slept long enough.
Jack bent and swirled his tongue around the warm dip of Will’s navel. Will answered with a whimper.
Jack tugged a wisp of hair with his teeth.
“Not funny, Jack,” Will muttered, and swatted Jack away.
Jack ignored that. It takes more than a swat to deter Captain Jack Sparrow. He licked a stripe up the centre of Will’s torso, coming to rest at the hollow of his throat.
“Jack. What are you doing?”
“Tasting you.”
“Why?”
“Wanted to show you how much I love you, luv.”
Will’s hands were hard on Jack’s shoulders as he yanked him up. Eye to eye.
“Jack, I already know how much you love me.”
“A little demonstration never hurts.”
Will kissed Jack firmly. Mouth closed, but it was still better than a hundred kisses from anyone else.
Will’s tongue skittered across Jack’s lips.
Correction – better than a thousand kisses from anyone else.
“Jack, I know you love me, or else you wouldn’t stay up all night keeping me calm so I can sleep on a sea such as this.” Will kissed again, more open this time. Hotter and wetter. “You don’t have to, you know.”
“Not much of a sacrifice, Will. The view, I assure you, more than makes up for any inconvenience.”
The view that got a hundred time better when Will blushed like a virgin.
And wriggled out of his pants.
That would be the view that got a thousand times better.
Jack put his hand on Will’s cock. Half full, and growing. Jack would never, in a hundred years, tire of that elegant shaft with its bulbous head, the way it lengthened and swelled at the urgings of Jack’s lips. Never tire of the exquisite taste of that steady stream of nectar heralding Will’s imminent release. Jack licked around the head and flexed his palms on Will’s thighs.
The storm grew louder. Or maybe that was Jack’s blood rushing through his veins. Will surged up under him, shoved his cock deep into Jack's mouth, lifted one leg over Jack’s shoulder.
How fortuitous. Jack’s fingers need only trail down to the underside of Will’s thigh, back along the firm skin to the swell of Will’s hips, and in to the damp warmth of his arse. Tight little arsehole twitching against Jack’s finger.
“Jack. Please.”
Jack made a slurping noise loud enough to be heard over the howl of the wind.
“Ahh. Tease!”
Jack moaned deep and pressed the pad of his finger against the puckers of Will’s arsehole.
Will must have reached up for the bottle of oil, because he was rubbing the rounded glass over Jack’s shoulder and whining. Jack only had one free hand, as the other was trapped under Will’s thigh. He was prepared to fumble with the bottle, but Will perceived the difficulty and uncorked the vessel for him, poured some on Jack’s upstretched fingers, sighed when the slickness touched his skin.
One slipped in easily. Two was tighter. Three and Will was lifting his hips off the bed, begging, spreading, shaking. Jack pushed the three fingers in as far as he could and pulled his mouth off Will’s cock.
“Jack!”
“Ah, Will, you’ve got the loveliest arse.”
“Oh! You can’t even imagine how lovely.”
“Can so.” Jack curled his fingers and watched the sweat appear across Will’s torso.
“So put your cock in me!”
Jack was doing this for Will, but for himself as well. And there was nothing quite like Will in need. Fierce need. Piratey need. The need for a pirate.
“For the love of… please, Jack… oh, I need you.”
Jack twisted his whole hand. Will pulled both legs up to his chest.
“Jack, you know that’s not enough. Just think about how could this’ll feel…” And with that Will squeezed his arse muscles tightly. “Think about that around your cock. How good it will be to fuck me.”
Jack couldn’t do that. If he thought about how good that arse would feel around his cock he’d never keep his erection long enough to get said cock into that arse. Without thinking, he rose and fell and skewered Will.
Will’s legs went around his waist, and they were joined as closely as two men could join. Repeatedly joined, as Jack pulled out and pushed in, Will reached down and grabbed Jack’s hips with his hands, as Jack was accepted, welcomed into Will’s body over and over.
When it was almost too much to bear, Will spoke.
“I’ve heard the stories,” Will panted in his ear.
Jack couldn’t think of what stories to which Will might be referring. The heat around his cock was so much more important, the squeeze of the next stroke inside, the pulsing of Will’s arse around him.
“I heard them and I gave them no heed.”
That was a relief. Jack wouldn’t want Will heeding idle gossip.
“Except…”
Jack stopped moving.
“Except what?”
Will shoved his hips up so Jack’s cock would strike him inside. Hard. He clenched and began to spurt against Jack stomach. Jack groaned. He cradled Will, savouring every second of Will’s release.
So treasured. So his.
Will unhooked his legs and pulled off Jack’s cock. The air was shockingly cold. But only for a moment, because Will pulled himself into a ball and rolled over and pushed back onto Jack’s cock and they were joined once more, Jack’s hips to Will’s arse, Jack’s cock deep inside Will. Will stretched out, and Jack lay atop him, face buried in Will’s hair.
“Except I like to imagine you fighting ghosts. And beating them,” Will confessed.
Jack wriggled his hips to become more firmly seated. “So, you like adventure, eh?”
“No. I like the stories. Only pretend. I’ve had my fill of adventure.”
‘Nonsense. We’ve got a lifetime of adventure together.”
“I want a real adventure. I don’t want any more ghosts. But sometimes…”
"Ah, you like adventure stories."
Will moaned.
“I could cook up a few adventure tales,” Jack offered as he began to rock in and out of Will again. “Embellish a few stories. Maybe even dress up in some ridiculous costume. If you like that sort of thing.”
Will purred and pulsed his arse in little circles.
Jack could not imagine any adventure more exciting than that.
Captain Jack Sparrow could become larger than life, an almost mythical figure. Jack would even encourage it. As long as no one else found out about this, people could tell whatever tales they wanted.
Jack knew the truth.
Back to Pirates of the Caribbean
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