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Title: What Jack Wants
By: heartofslash
Pairing: Jack/Will, only hints of others
Rating: R
Warnings: Nothing here you haven't seen before. Maybe a bit of anachronistic language use.
Disclaimer: They're hot. I play with them. I give them back when I'm done, none the worse for wear. As long as you don't count the love bites.
Summary:Jack and Will have stolen a ship together and maybe Will knows what Jack wants and maybe he doesn't, but Jack's gonna get it no matter what, so Will should just give it up. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.
Written for: raise_the_dead swagfic/fest. I was assigned danglingdingle who requested:
Likes/requests: Jack/Will, slash, Jack, Will and the joyous banter
Squicks: het, non-con, wimpy-whiny!Will, doormat!Jack
Prompts: ajar, whack, tinted
What Jack Wants
"I know what you want."
"No, you don't."
Will Turner sighed. "I'm not stupid, Jack."
"Yes, you are." Jack Sparrow squinted at the horizon. It should be there. It was supposed to be there by now. Why wasn't it there? He loosened his grip on the wheel before he tore the thing loose.
Will Turner was going to be the death of him. It was bad enough having a young, inexperienced man - no, boy - aboard. But having a young, inexperienced boy who knew what Jack wanted.
Jack didn't want what Will thought he wanted. Not really. Because if he got it, which he wouldn't because he didn't even want it, it would distract him from what he really wanted. And the compass was pointing to the Black Pearl, not to Will Turner, and definitely not to Will Turner's pert little behind, except for when, in the course of his duties on board - which he was performing in a most infuriatingly inexperienced yet somehow competent manner - Will Turner happened by accident to position his behind directly between Jack and the Pearl.
And even then, the compass needle merely wobbled. Slightly.
"You think just because I'm a pirate, I'm lecherous," Jack said. "Obviously, that is a prejudice born of your sheltered, land-locked dreary life so far. Such mistaken assumptions are what lead to discord, lad. Discord and misunderstanding, and a general lack of respect for pirates, a rowdy but still honourable lot, in fact, of which I happen to be one."
"One what? Rowdy?"
"Pirate!"
"That you are," Will agreed, and picked up a spare length of rope.
Jack watched Will's clever hands tie a perfect sheepshank.
The lad was not without skills. But he had only ever sailed the ocean once, and he'd not been on an untethered ship since, or so he said, his prodigious knowledge of knots notwithstanding.
Not that a sheepshank was an incredibly difficult knot to tie, but sailors did tend to tie perfect ones to impress one another, because doing something competently was not the same as doing it, and a perfect sheepshank was a thing of beauty.
The knots made it hard to believe he wasn't a sailor. Earlier in the day, Will had mended a frayed line with both speed and dexterity, an occurrence which had, no doubt, contributed considerably to the annoying, cloying, gut-warming, needle-wobbling state of want in which Jack found himself. Jack had a healthy appreciation for dexterity.
Jack gripped the wheel tightly again, because it felt as if it might fly out of his hands uncontrollably.
Will threw the perfectly tightened sheepshank to the deck and lunged towards Jack.
'This is it,' Jack thought. 'I'm going to get it whether I want it or not!' He braced himself for impact, anticipating the entwinement of slender yet not insubstantial limbs with his, the press of sweat-slicked skin, and the heat of that incessantly insulting mouth. Kissing Will would at the very least shut him up.
Will stopped a good foot short of the mark, with his jaw set in a tight square and one hand raised in a threat of a possibility of a strike.
'That was anti-climactic,' Jack thought to himself. But then, there'd been nothing even resembling a climax, so perhaps it was merely unclimactic.
"You will die before you lay a hand on Miss Swann!" Will said through gritted teeth.
Miss Swann.
Now, to be honest, Jack had not even considered that possibility. To him, Miss Swann had not been a prospect at all, merely a means to an end. He'd only dived in to rescue her because, well, why had he bothered? He did not particularly care if hoity-toity society ladies tumbled into the drink. Each and every one of them could go ahead and drown for all he cared, since none of them would ever be likely to give him the time of day.
Except Miss Swann had tumbled right there, in broad daylight, in front of him, and he could hardly live with himself if he'd let someone drown - someone who might possibly on the off chance maybe somehow help lead him to the Black Pearl - now, could he?
Of course, he hadn't thought that at the time. He'd been acting on instinct. Pirate instinct, if you must know. Not some noble instinct of chivalry, although that sort of instinct could be useful in some situations. It had been more of a sudden, sure gut sort of instinct that told him that saving the drowning damsel would lead to profit.
He'd been sure his instincts had gone all to hell until Will Turner showed up in the gaol.
He was grateful, in a way, to Miss Swann, for without her he would not, in fact, be alone on a ship with someone as delightful in form if not in action as Will Turner. Nor would he be reunited with an old friend, or the son of an old friend, as it were, not to mention well on his way to Tortuga to pick up a crew with which he might have a ghost of a chance of reuniting with his one true love.
The Pearl.
Not Will Turner.
And certainly not Elizabeth Swann. He didn't even fancy her. Too scrawny for his liking. Too young and inexperienced. Not a wisp of hard-earned knowledge. Although, she did look a tiny bit like Will Turner. Perhaps around the jaw.
Now that was a disturbing thought. The lad was clearly smitten with a woman who, with the judicious application of facial hair and a broadening of the shoulders, could possibly pass for himself.
Jack wondered what his chances were of convincing Elizabeth Swann to dress up like a blacksmith.
Will Turner spun on his heel, as if he'd read Jack's thoughts, and stormed below, leaving the hatch ajar.
Jack craned his neck to see through the gap. Will's shirt flashed past the opening. There were a few moments of muttering and shuffling of stored goods, and then Will reappeared carrying a bucket of fresh water.
"All this salt," he groused. "How can you stand it?"
Then Will stripped off his shirt.
Jack clung to the wheel.
Dear God, it was true. It was so very true. He wanted Will. He wanted Will with a burning, overwhelming passion, for beneath his fussy thought practical vest and his linen shirt, Will Turner had been hiding perhaps the most exquisite torso Jack had ever laid eyes on. Not a scrap of blubber on the lad, but he did not look boyish for all his slenderness. Strong he looked, with nicely set shoulders, graceful curves to his chest and a taut stomach. And long. Maybe even disproportionately long. Long and lean.
It was obvious that young Mr. Turner was not averse to baring himself so, for though the more customarily covered parts of his upper body were not as dark as the vee beneath his throat or the lengths of his nicely tanned forearms, he was not at all pasty, not the way most of these prudish land-dwellers usually turned out to be.
No. Will Turner was tinted golden all over.
Jack licked his lips as Will used a tin cup to pour water over his shoulders and back and chest, which made the golden skin glitter like, well, like gold.
Pirates love gold.
"I think I'm crusty from that seawater drying under my clothes," Will grumbled.
"I doubt that."
"I could feel the salt crunching under my arms!" Will lifted an arm and splashed water over quite lush, dark hair, much more lush and dark than the few, sparse hairs on his chest suggested. "My skin is raw."
"Nonsense," Jack said, trying to keep his mind well away from the idea of Will's salty skin. "Seawater's the best thing for your skin. Look at mine!"
Will looked, and Jack wished he'd stop looking, because Will was looking at Jack's chest where his shirt draped open, and if his eyes were to drop even the slightest, Will would see that Jack was far more interested in Will's torso than was proper, even for a notorious and possibly lecherous pirate.
"You mean, if I spend enough time in the seawater, hideous black pictures will appear on my flesh?" Will asked with a sneer.
That had been uncalled for!
"They are tattoos. You would know that if you weren't so bloody prim. It's not hideous; it's ink under the skin."
"I know what a tattoo is," Will said, right before he dumped the last of the fresh water out of the bucket and onto his head. The water and Will's hair streamed over golden skin. Will shook his head, and drops flew. "I wouldn’t get those put on me, not like that. I'd get something nicer."
"What would you know of tattoos?" Jack scoffed.
"I've seen tattoos before."
Unlikely, Jack thought. Since Will had clearly stated from the beginning his distaste for pirates, and the only non-pirates with tattoos would be sailors, Will would have had to have seen them on sailors, and sailors, at least sailors of the Royal Navy sort, only got tattoos in places where they would be hidden by their uniforms, and sailors did not undress in front of blacksmiths.
Or did they?
Jack was determined to hear that last unvoiced thought question answered. "I'm not interested in your Miss Swann," he said.
"Really?"
"Really not," Jack affirmed. "Not much attracted to gentility myself."
Will nodded as if he understood, if not agreed. After all, he could hardly think his pursuance of the governor's daughter would ever be taken seriously. He was a trifle, a pretty trifle, of the sort any young woman likes to look at and flirt with, but not marriageable. Or marry-able. Or whatever they called it. Eligible, he supposed. What did Jack care? It wasn't as if he would ever marry.
But Will. That was the question. What did Will like? Aside from that lanky, boyish, almost Will-like Miss Swann.
"I'm sure she's a lovely girl, but I've got something a touch rougher in mind," Jack directed the conversation.
Will snorted. "You mean, the sort of woman we're likely to meet in Tortuga?"
"Not quite," Jack said. He scanned the horizon.
Damn! There is was, bloody Tortuga. Just when things were getting interesting!
"Drop canvas," he ordered.
"What?" Will waved his arms at the horizon, which did lovely bulgy things to his naked shoulders. "We're almost there! Isn't that Tortuga?"
"Not really sure," Jack prevaricated.
"How can you not be sure? It's Tortuga! What kind of a pirate are you?"
"The kind that thinks it's not wise to approach Tortuga in a ship that is eminently worth stealing, in broad daylight, with only one crew member."
"Good point," Will conceded. "But we're the ones who stole the ship. The navy must be looking for us. There might even be a reward out for us."
"Planning to collect, are you?"
"Certainly not! I plan to follow this through to wherever it may lead."
Jack's head whirled with the possibilities. Whatever he did, he had to keep Will on this ship, with him, alone, at least until he could get a chance to taste if Will was as salty as he claimed to be.
"I meant that we're sitting ducks here. Shouldn't we get out of the open?"
Bright lad. Jack liked that in a lad. He liked a lot in Will. There was a lot to like.
Bright.
Golden.
Shiny.
Almost like treasure.
Very much like ideal treasure, in fact.
Jack scanned the horizon in all directions. They were alone, for the moment, but there was no such a thing as privacy on the open sea. "Actually, don't," he said.
"Don't hide?"
"Don't drop canvas."
"I never intended to."
"I'm glad we're in agreement."
"What are you talking about?"
"We'll head for a cove I know to the east of the port. We'll go ashore after dark. It's not far overland to the port. Much safer." It was a nice ship. He did not care to lose it in the harbour. Once he had the Pearl back, the Interceptor could bloody well blow up for all he cared, but until then he needed a ship, and this was the nicest one he'd captained in a long time.
Will frowned as he followed Jack's shouted orders and the ship found the cove. At some points he glared. All that frowning and glaring might have been discouraging if it weren't for the utter lack of shirt. That was encouraging, perhaps not on the part of the shirtless one, but on the part of Jack, who would have also liked to be shirtless but for Will's professed dislike of tattoos. Or at least Jack's tattoos.
Best to be shirtless after dark, when the tattoos would be less noticeable.
As the sun began to sink, Will was sitting at the rail, eyeing the murky shoreline with distrust. Jack told him to keep a weather eye out, then went below to find the fresh water. Will didn't like salt, so it wouldn't do to be too salty.
Jack found a cask of rum first. How fortuitous. He downed a goodly portion. He was hoping to affect the seduction of a virgin. He needed fortification for such a heady task.
It might have been a good idea to fortify the virgin as well. He found a cleanish mug and drew enough to fortify even a wanton trollop. He set that aside so he could draw a bucket of clean water, and began to wash away his natural coating of salt.
Just as Jack poured the last of the water over his head he heard a low cough.
Will was watching him with one eyebrow cocked.
"Freshening up, are we?" Will asked dryly.
"Abandoning our post, are we?" Jack shot back.
Will shrugged. He knew as well as Jack did that there was no real danger.
His shirt was on again, which was a pity, because Jack was shirtless and cursing the lantern light for revealing not only the pictures covering the front of his torso and arms but also the words scrawled across his back.
Will sat on a barrel and crossed his arms over his chest. "What do you want, Jack?"
Jack shook the water from his hair. "That is a complicated question!" He reached for his shirt.
Will rose, fast. The lad was fast when he wanted to be. And deadly accurate. He slapped the shirt out of Jack's grasp. "No, it's not. What, Jack? What do you want?"
"My ship," Jack answered. It was what he wanted. It was everything he wanted. Wasn't it? "And my shirt." He lunged for his shirt.
Will pushed him until his back slammed against a post. The shirt fell. The lantern swayed on the bracket from which it hung on the side of the post. The light made Jack's face burn. Will's face was very close.
"You don't want Elizabeth," Will said slowly.
Jack shook his head.
"You don't want any woman," Will said.
Jack thought about that for a moment. It was not entirely true, but it wasn't false either. Had a woman of the right sort sauntered by, Jack would have wanted her. She would have had to be of a particularly right sort to compete with Will Turner, who was pressing close, almost against Jack, and smelling like not-quite-freshly-washed sunshine with a hint of wood smoke and iron, the scent of which Jack suspected was permanently embedded in the fabric of the shirt. And she would have to be quite some woman to be sauntering through the lower deck of a stolen navy ship in a deserted cove just east of Tortuga.
Even then, she couldn’t compete with Will.
"I'm not innocent," Will said, a little defensively.
"Far be it from me to suggest such a thing," Jack agreed in an agreeable fashion, buying time in which to figure out what Will was on about.
"I may be out of my element with Miss Swann, but I know your sort.
"My sort," Jack repeated with care. My sort of what? he thought. Pirate? Will didn't know pirates. Not at all. Sailor? Jack didn't really think of himself as a sailor. And Will didn't really know sailors either, not anymore than he knew pirates.
Did he?
"You've had some experience with pirates, then?" Jack asked with false cheer. Will's hand was wrapped around Jack's wrist, and Jack might have been mistaken but he could have sworn his pirate brand was hissing.
"No," Will said, dangerous and low, "but I've known sailors."
And Jack would have sworn Will's other hand was on his thigh, if he'd been able to swear, which was nigh impossible because his throat was as dry as a witch's...
"Jack, I saw the way you looked at me when I took my shirt off."
Jack blinked.
Bloody rum and sun. You have too much of one with too little of the other, or too little of one and too much of the other, or too much of both, and you start imagining the most unlikely things.
Will dropped Jack's hand and stepped back. "I apologize," he said. "I must be mistaken." He moved past Jack on his way to the hatch, and Jack was certain something hard brushed his hip.
Dear God.
Will began to climb the steep stair to the deck. One rung. Two rungs. Three. Long lean legs and a neat behind Jack could imagine spreading his fingers across and pulling closer. Closer.
"You're not!" Jack blurted out. "Not mistaken."
Will lowered himself so his head was no longer out in the night air. "I'm not?" His eyes flicked across Jack's chest and down between his legs.
Hell's teeth! How did such a proper young man know about that sort of thing?
Jack tried to sort it out in his head. Will had grown up in ports, or close to them, so he'd met lots of sailors. His father had been a seaman, and a fine one at that. Will had been apprenticed to the blacksmith immediately upon arrival in Port Royal, Will had told Jack that much. While Jack had no personal experience of apprenticeships or indentured servitude of the land-lubbing variety, he did know that that sort of thing was generally time-consuming. Even if Will had met a lot of sailors, when had he found the time to dally with them?
Unless...
Unless that was how he'd paid his passage out here all those years ago.
He'd always hated those sorts of arrangements, from both sides. It was one of the things that made him a unique pirate captain, actually - no cabin boys.
He'd always preferred grown men. Grown men like the one advancing on him at that very moment.
"That's not required, you know," Jack said. "I won't make you pay for passage."
"I broke you out of jail," Will growled at him. "I helped you steal this ship, and I made myself an outlaw. I owe you nothing." He spat out the last word as if it tasted foul.
Jack felt a flush of what could be, in some people, called shame, but he passed it off as sudden arousal. Will was highly arousing when he was like this. Angry. Indignant. Proud. Didn't want to be treated like a child, and Jack didn't blame him one bit, especially if he'd been treated the way Jack suspected he might have been treated as a child.
So Jack treated him like a man.
"Good, then we're even." He pushed himself off the post and found himself nose to nose with Will.
"I don't think so," Will said. "I could still beat you in a fair fight."
Jack put his hands on Will's hips. As he had suspected, or hoped, the bones were near enough the surface to dig into his palms, but the muscles surrounding them went hard as Will tensed all over. Jack pulled Will's hips forward and tried not to wince when Will's cock, hard and stiff, crashed into his own.
"Good thing for me we're not fighting then, isn't it?"
It was, to be honest, a little like fighting.
It was a little like fighting when Will's mouth smashed against his, teeth rattling and lips bruising on impact.
It was a little like fighting when he got Will's arms pinned over his head in the tangle of shirt.
It was a lot like fighting when Will charged him and slammed him back against the post, and his head went whack against the timber, and Will ripped off his own shirt while Jack was recovering, and then pinned Jack's hands up over his head.
It was nothing like fighting at all when Will froze, breath caught in his throat, as their naked chests rubbed together, and Jack felt a wide, hard left nipple catch on his smaller, no less hard right nipple.
"Nothing like the feel of skin on skin, eh, lad?" Jack observed.
Will's suddenly huge hands came up to cover Jack's chest. "You're more fit than I thought you'd be," he whispered.
"Pirate!" Jack said triumphantly.
Then the wind was knocked out of him as Will toppled him to the floor between two rum barrels. Jack lay still, surrounded on all sides, the sea below, rum to the left, rum to the right, and Will Turner above.
Will writhed atop him as if trying to start a fire with two hard, long sticks.
Jack blazed.
"Slow down, lad. We've got all night!"
"Have to find a crew," Will panted.
"We can do that tomorrow," Jack said.
"Need to rescue Elizabeth."
Last thing on Jack's mind.
"Must catch up with the Black Pearl."
Yes, well, there was that...
"Have to feel more of you," Will said as he ground his hips down on Jack's pelvis.
"We've time for a quick one," Jack decided.
It wasn't easy getting all those clothes off. There were layers and knots and knots that had not been untied for quite some time, for it had been quite some time since Jack had had a ship to captain, and captains without a ship do not impress. Jack felt a breeze against his privates around the same time Will began to turn him onto his stomach.
"Whoa, lad!" Jack protested. "What gives you the idea I had that in mind?" He turned back over.
Will squeezed Jack's hips. "Did I assume wrong again?" Will asked, almost innocently.
Jack would not be fooled by Will turner's innocent act again. "I should say so," he huffed. "I'm older."
"I'm taller."
"And I'm of higher rank."
"Only on a pirate ship."
"And my beard's longer!" Jack protested, desperate for some edge in this ridiculous contest.
"And it's woven with beads so you look like a harlot on a street corner."
"I do not!"
"And you're wearing face paint," Will pointed out.
"Kohl. That's not the same as a harlot! And besides, you," Jack heaved himself up and threw Will off him. They grappled for a bit, but Jack soon won the struggle. He had far more experience wrestling while sporting a raging erection. He scrambled over Will's prone body, breathing heavily in the lad's ear. "You," he said. "You have the prettiest eyes. And beautiful long legs. And the loveliest, pertest little behind."
Will squirmed out from under him. Jack took advantage of the movement to slide his hand under said pert little behind.
"Jack," Will whispered, "I don't do that."
Jack cupped a perfect curve and sighed.
"Jack, I'm not kidding. I don't!"
"I wasn't."
"But you want to."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
"But..."
"I don't want to take you, Will."
"What? You don't?"
"I want to savour you."
Will was a little slow to catch on, but once he got used to the feel of Jack's tongue on his thigh, he opened his legs most willingly. "Savour me," he whispered.
Jack nodded and licked the top of his thigh.
Will let out a whimper and wrapped one of Jack's locks around his fingers.
Jack left the thigh and went for the cock.
Will tasted delicious. Not at all overly salty. Just salty enough. Jack was very perturbed when Will pulled away, but it was only to turn himself around and wriggle between Jack in front of him and the barrel of rum at his back, with Will's cock at Jack's mouth level and Will's lips brushing the shiny head of Jack's cock.
Bright lad.
"Bit of a tight fit," Jack said. Then he went very quiet because Will Turner, as it turned out, was talented at more than tying knots. Jack opened his mouth and took Will deep inside at the same time Will swirled his tongue and made Jack dizzy, but the good-sized cock in his mouth grounded Jack, gave him something to center himself around. Jack worked the length of it methodically, which was probably not what Will expected, seeing as how Jack was a bit slapdash in much of his doings, or so he liked it to look on the surface, but methodical was the only way he could do this, because were he to let himself act on pure instinct he would stop sucking and start howling. Howling would not be pleasurable for Will. Jack wanted Will to like him. And if he couldn’t bring himself to like Jack, at least he could like what Jack was doing.
Will had a sure, steady mouth, almost as if he were being methodical too, and that might have worried Jack except Will was also making the most delicious moans, moans that vibrated around Jack's cock and in his stomach and down his legs and in his teeth and just about everywhere else too. Jack moaned and Will's legs shook and Jack moaned more.
It didn't take long, which was a small shame, for Jack wanted more, enough to keep him warm for a long time, but it would be enough, because although there weren't enough minutes involved in the act, there was more than enough detail.
Will's wispy beard was almost silky on his thigh, and his hands were rough, but they handled Jack gently where he needed gentleness, firm where he needed firmness. Will's hair was a true joy to touch, and to have touch Jack. Will's tongue was like something that had been invented to make Jack moan around Will's cock. And Will's cock was something made to make Jack's mouth water.
Jack slid his lips wetly up and down Will's shaft and tried to jam the head into his throat. Maybe if Will got lodged there tightly enough he'd never leave. Silly thought, but silly thoughts were all that kept Jack from coming even sooner.
He jerked his hips back in warning, and his ass hit the barrel behind him with a hollow thud. Will followed, determined, it seemed, to have all he could of Jack. No shying away for this lad. He swallowed eagerly, and Jack had to remind that this was about pleasing Will.
He worked his throat muscles and soon had all he could of Will. Deliciously all he could handle. The lad must have been saving it up for a while.
Will's thighs went very hard while he came, and after they stayed firm, because they probably never got very soft, although the skin covering them was soft. Soft and cozy. Jack let his hands wander to the tense little pert behind. He stroked soothingly. Shame he couldn’t explore more, but every man has his limits. And maybe not limits. It might have been a matter of taste, for all Jack knew.
For his part, Jack was partial to that sort of thing, and certainly wouldn’t object if Will decided he'd like to explore Jack a bit deeper.
But this was enough for the time being.
Now, how could Will have ever thought Jack would prefer taking him when he didn't want to be taken, to this? Absurd! Jack loosened his lips and licked up the still-shuddering shaft.
"It's not all about taking," he whispered.
"I know that. How did you think I learned how to do that?" Will smirked.
Jack's cock shivered under the gust of warm breath from Will's words.
"I thought you didn't like pirates."
Will propped himself up on one elbow and looked down, past his cock, at Jack's eyes. Jack was resting his cheek on Will's thigh. He felt drained, deliciously drained, despite the fortifying rum.
"Never had a pirate before," Will confessed. "If I'd known it would be this good, I might have tried one earlier."
"I'm not just any pirate," Jack said.
"No, you're Captain Jack Sparrow. But I never would have even considered it if you hadn't looked at me like that."
"Oh, really?"
"Not with those hideous tattoos. But I've learned to look past them." Will smiled.
Jack sat up. "I hardly think you're a proper judge of tattoos," he sniffed.
Will shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose not. But Norrington's are ever so much nicer."
Norrington???
Will sat upright and stretched his arms over his head. "He's got a dragon on his back, and a dolphin on his chest, and a tiger on his..." Will shut his mouth.
Jack stared at him with his mouth, he had to admit, hanging open. "Norrington?" he managed to say.
Will smiled. "Don't worry, Jack. Your cock is much nicer."
"How so?"
"It's not so..." Will licked his lips. "Um, never mind."
Will got up and pulled his shirt on. It was long enough to cover his cock, so Jack had to be satisfied with looking at long, lean thighs.
Norrington???
"Really, Will. I want to know."
Will looked away and occupied himself with unrolling and untangling the legs of his breeches.
"Will!"
"It's nothing, Jack. You're just a better fit, that's all."
Jack mulled that over.
"And that tiger, it's awfully distracting." Will added, pulling his trousers on. "Shouldn't we be going ashore?"
Right. Tortuga. A crew. The Black Pearl. First things first.
With any luck, he'd find some time to savour Will Turner a bit more at some point in the not-too-distant future. Maybe even do some exploring.
Did he really want to have a nicer cock?
Jack was about to ask Will for more detail, but he noticed the cup of rum which had not, as it so happened, been necessary for the seduction of the decidedly nonvirginal Will Turner. All the more for Jack. He downed it in a single gulp.
When this whole thing was over and done with, when he had the Black Pearl back, and that turncoat Barbossa was taken care of, and Will had his damn Miss Swann, unless he didn't want Miss Swann, in which case Jack would be more than happy to offer him a place on the Pearl, when all that was over and finished.
As soon as things were set right again, Jack Sparrow wanted to find out exactly why Norrington was a better fit, and why his tiger was so distracting.
The End
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