setting: Meduga Bay, 31 nautical miles off Port Royal
summary: Jack and Will set off through Meduga Bay and end up sharing more than they bargained for.
I like gin and cabin boys on ice
Hell is the bane, drinking's the game
Yo ho! My name is paradise
Wenches and water rats tickle me, ho!
Treasure the time and spend the dough
I fall apart, but only when sober
Enjoy the game and never go home
So treasure the time and spend the dough
My name is paradise, and I fall apart
They had hit Meduga Bay that morning. The sun shone through stain-glass clouds, and overhead flew hungry, shameless gulls looking for a street-side feast of tavern scraps. Bread and cheese were good for a taste, meat was a treat, and if a little drink was spilled, well, the birds didn't seem to mind. And just as the birds drank away without a care, so Captain Jack Sparrow enjoyed his last drink aboard ship before setting off to shore.
Will had mentioned a craving for a bit of brandy after having spent three weeks on the ship with the Queen of Rum himself, or the Queen of the Sparrows, or simply Her Majesty. Jack enjoyed the nicknames only too much and decided to take the young man up on his unofficial liquor request.
"Ah! Will, lad!" he called at the sight of his new first mate sitting up against the mast. He sauntered across the deck to lean over the new pirate. When he got no reaction he folded his arms and muttered, "Boo."
Will stared up, wincing a little into the sunlight. "Amusing."
The grin returned as it always did. "Well don't laugh too much, love. You know, I hate the stomach aches that come with laughing too much. Or maybe it's the liquor."
"You know, I have not been with you one night that you've put down the rum--"
"Which is why I'm taking you out on the town for some brandy, love," he replied cheekily, extending one hand down to Will.
An eyebrow went up. "Not exactly what I meant," Will murmured.
"Come on then!" Jack swished his hand around, motioning for Will to grab it. "We'll head out all by our onesies and have plenty a good time.... savvy?"
Will saw the twinkle in Jack's eyes, and he grinned, suddenly game for an adventure. He took the extended hand, allowing himself to be pulled roughly to his feet. Finding balance again (or as much balance as one could find on a ship on a cold, windy day), he returned Jack's mischievous glare, challenging the look only a few inches from the pirate's face.
"Now that's the spirit a Captain can count on," Jack whispered, and whirled off down the board to the docks. Will followed close behind, still amused and captivated by the swash, sway of Jack's walk.
The dreary weather only got drearier, but it didn't dissuade the drunkard masses from congregating in bars and whore houses aplenty in such Caribbean harbors. Meduga Bay was no exception. Though, Jack and Will went to no brothels, nor did they adhere to whores when they beckoned. The two men drank and laughed together for a long while, but never took part in the pleasurable company about them. In fact, when the air around them became too humid with lovemaking, Jack took Will--or what was left of the man--and went on to a different bar.
Will had gotten his brandy. Will had gotten too much of his brandy. And when the thick brown liquor had become too much, Jack switched his prescription to that other thick brown liquor Jack enjoyed as rum. After a drunken while Will had begun to react to the women hanging on him who begged for a night's work with him. That was when Jack stole him away to the safety of their inn; that was when Jack decided the night should end.
After putting the useless lump of Turner to bed, Jack resigned himself to a hot bath--though in reality he was no more qualified to work the bath than Will was. But he managed to warm enough buckets-worth over the fire to quench his nautical desires and so set to undressing. He was losing his eyesight quickly, and his head started to ache right above his left eyebrow. For the sake of time he tossed the ragged articles of clothing anywhere and finally half lowered himself, half collapsed into the wet porcelain catacomb.
Will awoke to a dark room, his head beating lightly, but apparently he had slept through the worst of the hangover. Jack on the other hand....
"Uuuuuungh," came a moan from the bath closet.
Will jumped at the sound, but the rush took him in mid-motion. He groaned, clasped his forehead and fell back to the bed. Another sound arose from the bath closet, and so Will went against his head's desire to stay in bed and staggered to his feet, swaying in all compass points until finally catching the wall.
Will was staring at nothing particular until he noticed a red, or it could have been purple, sash lying carelessly on the room's only chair.
"....Jack wouldn't go anywhere without his sash."
Which left the option that Cap'n Sparrow was still here. Will's scattered mind finally connected that sound from the bath to Jack and peered through the doorless archway to the sight of naked, bronze flesh, and....
Will sobered immediately. After spending so much time with the man, not the pirate, he had assumed most of the dreadful tales of the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow were exactly that: tales. --Especially since Elizabeth had told him what really happened at Rum Runners' island those years ago. But...
It was all true. ...All of it.
Jack lay there in the tub, where he had left himself early that morning. His arms lay limp over the sides, the water only to his waist. What had caught Will's eye and brought the outline of his lips to a bewildered oval shape was the condition of that body. Two black bullet holes marred his right breast while dark scars flecked Jack's Spanish skin here and there. A fairly new gash decorated his thigh, and what looked like a stab wound resided nearby.
"Bastards a dozen," Will mused.
The sound stirred the hazy eyed pirate, and a sharp breath hissed through those tan lips. Blink. Blink. "Will...."
Yes?" Turner croaked nervously, turning away from the doorway.
Jack blinked again. "What, frightened off by a little skin?"
Turning back, Will gave a crooked nod of defiance. "Of course not."
Jack waved a hand in front of his eyes, stretching numb fingers thoughtlessly. "Then I s'pose you'd have no gripe to taking off your gear, mate, aye?" His eyes rolled up to watch the lad's reaction. There was a second of awkward silence while Will wondered exactly how serious the pirate had been. Then there came that "heh" noise from deep in Jack's throat as his lips parted in a half grin, with golden teeth glittering beneath dark eyes. He looked like the devil himself in that tub, bartering Will's marriage for an eternity in the pirate's clutches.
Will scowled then, locking gazes with Jack while his own hands purposefully, button by button, removed his tunic, then pulled a light shirt off and over his shoulders. His hands then went to his belt, which soon clanked to the floor boards.
Jack's half grin had remained plastered on his face during Will's undressing, but now that the young man stood there still in boots and breeches and making no effort to remove them, his grin dropped. he lifted an eyebrow uncomfortably, glancing back up at Will. "That's not what I had in mind, love."
"I know it. You want me in there with you."
"You caught it!" Jack cried, clapping his hands together theatrically. "Good, Will. Hurry on and get in."
Will didn't move. Only his eyes spoke, boring down on the still partially intoxicated pirate (but it was always hard to tell with Captain Sparrow anyway). However, Will's eyes didn't read as Will wanted them to. Instead of defiance, Jack saw in them reluctance, anxiety, and also... anticipation. Jack saw that proud barrier weakening and, seeing the chance, pounced it quickly. "Look, come in for a few, and if you don't like it you can get out. I promise! But... give it a try, love." Will continued to stare. Jack wetted his lips. "What say you?"
Will's brow creased in thought, or perhaps it was in doubt. Jack was a bizarre one, Will knew, and to spend the night with... with those scars. Here he was, being beckoned by an older, seasoned, bruised and battered veteran of the cause--the cause for free wealth and moral independence. It was a cause that had grown on him over these past few months he had known Jack, had met so many others like Jack, ...had seen people hanged for far less than anything he had done.
And this would be different than any sex he had ever known. With Elizabeth it was exquisite, yes, but not fulfilling. Domination in the bedroom did not give him all he wanted. And here was Jack, beckoning to him with silent promises of pleasure--pleasure for a man in need given by someone who understood what a man needed. Why shouldn't he be able to enjoy submitting to someone for once in his life?
The corner of Will's lips twitched and finally bent into something like a grin as his hands went to his breeches.
Jack's mirth returned, marked by the patented laugh. "That's a lad." He nodded in encouragement. His eyes glowed as Will lowered himself into the tub, breathing uncomfortably and smiling, embarassed. Jack touched beneath the man's cheek, turning the younger's face to meet his eyes. "That wasn't so hard, aye?"
The water only came up to his navel. How this puddle they lay in could be called a bath, Will didn't know, but it didn't seem to phase Jack any. Actually, he had to admit, it did feel therapeutic to have his lower body immmersed--and even better to have Jack's hands slithering around his waist and down his thighs. The water lapped at his legs and waist, washing in and out of his navel. All the while, Will's thoughts revolved around a single question. Would Jack... touch him there?
He wanted to look down; see what he already felt Jack's hands doing, but he didn't think he could face his own unorthodox posture without laughing and blushing profusely, so he just stared ahead at Jack, debating whether or not to reach for the man.
Will was startled out of his complacent poise by a sudden yank of his masculinity. At that, he did look down, and indeed he blushed not only at his position, but at the rate with which his arousal had reacted to Jack's teasing.
"I see you're not really well acquainted with this sort of pleasure, love," the pirate murmured into his ear. "Well ol' Jack will have to change that, aye?"
Will just nodded, reaching one arm around Jack's neck while the other he planted on Jack's side, not wanting to disturb the pirate's work. Bastards a dozen, he thought. He must have been training his haands for decades! ....either that or I'm just easy to please.
His train of thought was cut off by a bolt of pain-drenched ecstasy shooting through him. "Jack!" he growled. "In God's name, stop that!"
"Like hell," Jack murmured and pressed harder, massaging and milking Will for all he had. Jack was going to get a reaction out of this boy, if it took the entire night. Though, glancing at his work, he doubted it would take nearly that long.
The chill water swashed against the porcelain like waves beating against the Pearl, ricocheting back against Will's cold skin. The feeling made him shiver, mixed with the painful but orgasmic dementia induced by Jack's hands. Will tried to breathe, tried to move, tried to scream, but all he succeeded in doing was rocking his groin up and down with the rhythm of Jack's motions. He could feel his length thickening by the second, until he thought it was swollen so much he'd explode. And explode he did. With a scream that was more like a breathy wail, he released the surging life of his erection. Out it showered over Jack's hands and forearms and then joined with the bath water.
Jack moaned, the scene before him exciting him to the point of hardness. He indulged himelf a taste of Will's sensuous liquid, and then covered his own erection with it, grabbing roughly to harden himself more. The pirate reached around Will and held him with one arm, the seed on his arms smearing over Will's skin. Jack closed the distance to lean over Will, practically on top of the man. His other hand was ready with his thickness.
"That, Will? That was just foreplay." At Will's surprised reaction he nodded vehemently. "Aye. This is when I take you right."
Will was being pressed against the cold porcelain. His muscles were already cramped with the strain of Jack's first wave, and now his neck was being pushed painfully into the edge of the tub. All he could do to allay the aches was to throw his head back, thus thrusting his body forward. Jack took it as a signal and plunged himself through Will's barrier.
Will almost screamed, but he couldn't. The jolt of pain through him left him voiceless until all he could do was suck in air.
Why? What-- Aigh! He couldn't think coherently. At first he had one hand pushed against the side of the tub, trying to remain steady as Jack rocked them both. But now, in spite of the pain within and the heave of being smashed against the side of the tub, Will wrapped his steadying arm around Jack to pull them closer. The motion made no sense considering it was Jack who was feeding him this ache in his buttocks, but his brain told him he needed more, and so Will didn't bother to fight it.
Jack, on the other hand, had much fighting to do. Will's muscles were spasming against the intrusion, instinctively clenching and trying to drive it out. But his manhood was drenched in Will's seed, and it eased the passage now, driving swiftly through the resistance. Jack grinned, his breath coming urgently. It was sheer pleasure, the harsh but velvet feel within Will's body and the young man's hot breath against his neck.
"My name is paradise," Jack sung in a whispered voice into Will's ear. It was a popular tune, one Jack especially loved to sing while drinking--or indulging in whatever Will had to give tonight. "...I like gin and cabin boys on ice."
Meanwhile Will's body was twisting in seizures of pain and pleasure, and his muscles cried out in invasion. Jack's quiet, rough voice came through to ease his senses and wing him away to a place so drunken and lost amongst indulgement. He was on a cloud. He was in a bathtub. Which was it? The song rung in his ears while Jack rung his body elsewhere. He breathed once, maybe twice--he couldn't count. His breath sounded loud like a church bell in his own ears. Was he awake? Was he even alive? Now was the era of alcohol, of an older man's low voice in his ear, and of a psychotic sexual license. That was Will Turner now, and he wished it no other way. Elizabeth was forgotten.
Half between consciousness and happy darkness Will joined in with the song. "My name is paradise, and I fall apart...."