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Title: If The Coat Fits
Author: heartofslash
Fandom: POTC, The Pirate Way
Pairing: Will Turner/Jack Sparrow
Rating: Adult
Warning: Old-fashioned domination.
Disclaimer: This is not the Will and Jack your mother knows. Unless I'm your mother. In which case – get off the computer and go do your homework! Disney owns the original characters, but not my interpretations of them.
Dedication: This is a happy belated holidays and have an excellent new year fic dedicated to barbossas_wench (Thanks for the terrific card and picture, babe!) and for veronica_rich, who likes the boots. Heh.
If The Coat Fits
"It doesn't fit, it's too elaborate, and it's not mine," Will growled.
"It fits you perfectly, now that it's been taken in," Jack countered. "A man of your masculine beauty can more than compensate for a few frills. And it is yours. You make it yours, luv,"
Will moved jerkily in the stiff brocade. There was something wrong with the cut. The way it hugged his waist then flared, the swell of the sleeves past the wrist, the collar - unnecessarily fussy - and then the complex folds and puckers at the shoulders, the breast, the hemline - some had been there from the start, some put there to make it fit him like a skin. A very decorative skin. An overly decorative skin. There was something almost feminine about it, as if Jack intended to put him on display, his prize, his treasure.
This was not the coat of a blacksmith, even if he was a blacksmith turned pirate, and if it was the coat of a pirate, it was the coat not of a working pirate, but of a captain. A captain as peacock, strutting the deck, showing his pride of ownership and command.
"Mine", it said. "All I survey is mine and you should bow to me." But the way Jack had produced it with such a flourish and fussed over the alterations, made it say "his" as well as "mine". Even if one had not known of Jack's involvement, the air of propriety would have been undeniable.
"A captain's coat," Will growled. He did nothing, would do nothing, but growl as long as this coat draped his framed.
Long frame. Lean frame. A frame that was happier in less ostentatious wrappings, and only truly joyful without any at all, if truth be told, and Jack was fond of the truth, protestations as to his pirateness notwithstanding.
Jack had taught him that - the joy of being absolutely naked. Naked and free. Why on earth would Jack forgo that in favour of this ridiculous, sumptuous fabric with its embroidered edges and lush contours, a russet background wrought with vibrant greens and subtle golds? Jack should be the one in this garment, not Will. Jack was the captain. Jack was in charge. Jack was…
"Where did you find such a thing?"
"I have my ways."
"We've been at sea for weeks," Will growled. "Months, almost."
"We've made stops," Jack countered.
"Nowhere you could beg, borrow or steal a coat of this sort," Will growled. "And don't tell me you bought it; you never buy anything."
Not entirely true. Jack had been known to buy the odd man a drink. Only very odd men. And he'd bought supplies. At times.
Jack's hand flattened over the collar, tugging, adjusting, avoiding.
"This coat was on board already," Will suspected. More than suspected – he accused.
Jack arranged a fall of lace at Will's throat. "It's been thoroughly cleaned, aired out, fluffed and puffed. It's been completely altered to fit you and only you. It is…" Jack stopped arranging and instead drew Will closer. "You have made it your own," he purred.
"No. YOU have made it my own. Why?"
Jack leaned the last few inched and licked Will's jawline.
"Whose was it?" Will demanded.
Jack nibbled a delicious earlobe.
"Jack…" Will warned…
Jack patted Will's ass through the coat and Will's trousers.
Elaborate. Commanding. Flambyant. This was the coat of someone who wanted everyone to know he was important. Not a man like Will. Someone wanting respect, but not wanting the bother of earning his name honestly through hard work and honest living. Someone who wanted power. Some who wanted…
Will pushed Jack away. "This was Barbossa's coat!"
"No, it wasn't."
"Yes, it was."
"Nonsense."
"Logic - whose else could it have been?"
"I don't know. Could have been anyone's. I've never seen it on anyone."
"Where did it come from?"
"The captain's cabin." Jack gestured around the spacious cabin. "In a trunk I never looked in before."
"And did you put it there?"
"Well, how could I have if I never looked in it before?" Jack waved the question away. "Anyone at all could have put it there."
Will growled and ripped the coat off. Bits and bobs flew through the air, shredded lace and ripped ruffle fluttered to the deck, and still feeling the oppressive weight of it on his shoulders, Will tore his own shirt off for good measure.
Now, that was more like it.
Will stood before Jack naked from the waist up, chest heaving, trousers all but hanging off hips that could not have been sculpted to be more enticing.
Jack fell to his knees.
He'd known that coat would bring out the captain in Will. He'd had no idea quite how it would work, until now, but that coat had "captain" written all over it.
Will grabbed a handful of dreadlocks and beads and tilted Jack's head back. "Is that what this is all about? You want me to be captain for a change?"
"Only in the privacy of this cabin," Jack said.
There was always a catch.
Will considered this.
For a moment, Jack feared Will might say no, might demand command of the entire ship. And, at that moment, Jack would have given it to him, because Will's fingers were steely against his scalp, and Will's trousers showed definite interest in the notion of being captain, and Will was so close that his boots were on either side of Jack's thighs and the leather was uncommonly warm through Jack's trousers, and the thought of how warm that leather would feel against his naked skin made him dizzy.
"Mr. Gibbs has the bridge?" Will asked.
Jack nodded. Always so practical, Will was. It had rubbed off on Jack over their time together, and he was now always sure to put responsible people in charge. Mr. Gibbs was in charge of the bridge, and Mr. Cotton was in charge of making sure Mr. Gibbs did not drink to excess while in charge of the bridge. And every hand knew not to disturb the captain in his quarters. Not unless it was a dire emergency, and even then, they'd know to knock first.
Will tugged, tilting Jack's head to one side. Then the other.
"Very well, Mr. Sparrow. I think you are overdressed for an evening indoors, wouldn't you agree?"
Jack did not think he could get his clothes off fast enough, and he was right. He'd managed to divest himself of coat, boots, vest, the first sash at his hips, and his scabbard when Will planted a boot on Jack's shoulder. "Slow, Sparrow. Very slow."
Jack winced. Damn his fumbling fingers. No rum, next time. Or maybe more rum. "My apologies," he said, palms pressed together, eyes growing smoky as if by his will alone. But then, Will always made that happen to Jack's eyes.
Will pushed with his foot. The heel dug into Jack's shoulder. Jack sat back on his heels and looked up.
Will had somehow managed to untie his hair - probably while Jack had been fumbling with the knot of the sash - so it fell around his face and over his shoulders like the sea.
Will shoved and Jack sprawled on his back. Will stepped forward, straddling Jack's hips.
"Oh, dear God and gods and goddesses, and randy heathen gods and anyone else with any influence at all," Jack prayed in the back of his mind. "Let me survive this and I'll worship you forever."
Will squatted.
It was hopeless. The gods would not help him at all, because they knew Jack had no real interest in them at all - he would only ever worship Will Turner.
"Do I… distract you?" Will asked in a voice that was liquid.
Jack nodded uncontrollably.
"Good. I'd hate it if you could ignore this…" Will ran his hand over his own chest and pinched a nipple until it grew stiff and darkened.
"No, Captain," Jack whimpered. "Can't ignore that."
Will slid his hand inside his own trousers.
Jack gulped.
"Aren't you supposed to be naked?" Will asked, then hissed, and Jack could see that his fingers were curled around and tightening.
Jack slithered out from between Will's boots and ripped off his shirt, second scarf and pants. "Naked, sir, and awaiting orders," Jack said smartly, right before his jaw dropped opening, ending all coherent speech.
Will dropped his knees to the deck and pushed his trousers down, pulling out his cock. He fisted it in a manner that Jack could only describe as luxurious.
Jack immediately got on his hands and knees, so as to put his mouth at the correct height. He wanted to pounce, but he knew that Captain Turner would not appreciate that. Instead, he made a groveling noise. More of a groan than a plea.
Will held his cock out toward Jack and Jack descended gratefully, voraciously and in a most acquiescent fashion. The coat lay crumpled not two feet away, and Jack could smell it, the sea air from when he'd had it strung up in the rigging to air out, the slight lemon of the soap that had been used to wash it, the perfume he'd carefully anointed it with before offering it to Will. It didn't smell nearly as good as Will did. As engrossed as Jack was in his task of sucking Will's cock, he kept seeing the coat there, a glint of decorative brass button, the sparkle of metallic thread, the sheen of the silk, the curve of a ruffle.
A captain's coat.
He moved his head up and down, fucking his mouth onto Will's cock. Sloppy. A very wet affair. Will's cock, as it always did, began to leak, making the whole business even messier. Everything slid, lips on shaft, tongue on the underside, head into his throat. Will's fingers steeled themselves against his scalp again, pushing. Deeper. Jack flailed, mouth full, barely able to breathe. Will grunted and pumped seed down his throat, held himself there until Jack saw spots.
Will sank back onto his heels. Jack followed, unwilling to let go of the cock with its satin skin and its earthy taste, something not of the sea. Will pet his hair. "Was that really what you wanted?" he asked quietly.
Jack tried to think of what the right answer might be.
"I hope it was," Will said. "Because I liked it very much."
Jack tried not to make it too noticeable when he shifted his leg to press against his very hard cock.
"I see you did, as well." The steely fingers were back in Jack's hair. "Not yet, you don't. You want a captain, you get a captain for the whole night."
Jack was not entirely sure what he'd signed up for. But he was eager to find out…
End
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