Parts 6-10

Posted: August 2003
Author: Haleth

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Part 6 – In Dreams

Will Turner was in a deep sleep, sprawled on an uncomfortably hard bed in the hold of a stolen navy ship, cold and uneasy but able to be so fully asleep because he was exhausted by his many and various labours. He was dreaming of being somewhere warm and comfortable, with no worries or cares. He was dreaming about being safe with the love of his life.

Will had been dreaming about keeping the ship on course, but then he remembered the ship was anchored, so he allowed his mind to slip into a more agreeable place.

He noticed a hand on his hip. How bold of Elizabeth to touch him so. He waited to see if she would touch him further. He didn't dare move, for if he did he might frighten her away. Or worse, he might wake up.

He didn't dare wake up. He knew if he woke up he would once again be at sea, on a stolen navy ship, with only that loathsome pirate for company. He would be lying on an uncomfortable wooden pallet, chilled to the bone, and wondering what sort of impropriety Captain Jack Sparrow was planning next.

He had never in his life imagined a place quite so disreputable as that tavern Jack had dragged him to. Fights going on all over, women grabbing him and wanting him to pay them, drunken revelry. It was filthy and disgusting, and why was he wasting his time remembering that horrid place when he should be spending every moment he could enjoying this dream?

Yes, that was better, the hand was on the bare skin of his waist now. Warm and comforting. Comfort was what he really desired. To be somewhere safe and comfortable.

The hand slid up along his ribs, caressing his skin. The fingers were a bit rough; he didn't think Elizabeth's hands were so rough. But they were comforting, nonetheless. He tried not to moan out loud, it might scare her away. The hand wasn't moving, he must have moaned.

It moved again. Good. He reminded himself he was only dreaming, but it felt so good to have someone touch him with such tenderness and care. Now the hand rested in the centre of his torso, reaching around him and creating a sounding board that amplified the pounding of his heart. Wanted to feel it more, feel it tighter against his skin. He took a deep breath, pressing out against the hand. He let the air out in a rush.

He tried to imagine the body behind his, all soft curves and pale tender skin. But he couldn't get a clear picture. Almost as if the hand that was now sliding down his belly wasn't attached to anyone at all. A disembodied hand giving him comfort when he needed it most.

The hand was making slow, careful circles now, slicing over his flat stomach muscles with agonizing care. And nothing had ever made him veel so good before. This was how a cat must feel when it's being petted, he mused. So luxurious. So decadent. Only for pleasure and not other reason.

Will pushed into the hand, figuring if it felt good, it would feel even better if there were more pressure. And it did. He tried to convey his approval, somehow, by making a noise, wanting to encourage the mysterious hand.

What came out of his mouth, his throat really, was a bit shocking. He wondered where it came from. Never made a noise like that before. Not true; he had, but only when he was alone and doing things he was quite sure were improper.

The hand pressed more, fingers curling. It dipped lower on his belly, trailing through the hair there. Heat grew in Will's trousers.

He wasn't entirely naïve. He knew the direction his dream was taking now. He'd had dreams like this before. As much as he enjoyed them he always woke embarrassed, with an achingly hard cock and often without the nerve to do anything about it. He'd gotten into the habit of staying asleep as long as he could. Of willing himself to stay asleep so the problem could be taken care of in a safe place, in a dream world. It was too embarrassing to take care of it in the real, waking world.

He didn't have enough privacy to be comfortable taking his cock in his own hand. Anyone could walk into his little room off the blacksmith shop. If you were caught with his hand in his pants it would be mortifying. And he could never go to one of those women to take care of it. That would be improper in the extreme.

A few times, when he's woken in the middle of the night, he'd slipped his hand down under the covers and taken the hard column into his hand. He'd held his fist around the hot flesh and stroked it, and it felt very good indeed.

On those occasions, he'd let his cock dictate what his fingers would do. He varied the pressure, the length of stroke, the direction, until he swelled to unbearable proportions. The release of his hot seed on his fingers the first time was a shock. He remembered lying very still, panting in the dark, panicking about soiling the bed linens, which weren't due to be washed for some time. The second time he did it he made sure to have an old rag to catch the hot liquid before it made a mess.

He'd started to do that more often of late. But only late at night when no one else was around. It wasn't only a matter of someone walking in. There was the matter of that noise he tended to make, something between a purr and a growl when he finally touched himself.

He thought about doing that now, thought about taking his cock in hand, wrapping his long fingers around it. His hands were rough, but he would be carefull with himself. He would slide up and down the shaft, rub his thumb over the engorged head. Maybe there would be a few drops of moisture at the tip. That's when if felt extra good to stroke himself, he knew from experience. He wondered how hard his cock was in the real world. He wasn't touching it, but the mere thought of touching it made him growl in anticipation.

Then the image of Captain Jack Sparrow invaded his lustful thought. How ridiculous. Why would he think of the hated pirate when he should be thinking of his precious Elizabeth?

He could see the pirate gazing down at him, silent for once; with a look of such tenderness it had to be in Will's imagination. He didn't look drunk of dazed or sly of any of the other things will associated with Jack. He looked a little surprised, very calm and utterly absorbed in what he was doing. Which was rubbing his hand with infinite tnedrness in slowly growing circles on Will's naked belly.

That's when Will realized his eyes were open.

Chapter 7 - The Nature of Desire

Captain Jack Sparrow was stunned. No, he was in actual shock.

One minute he was sitting on the edge of a bed, gazing at a lovely young man and touching his even more lovely smooth stomach ever so gently; the next he was flat on his arse with said lovely young man looming over him with clenched fists and a decidedly displeased look on his face.

It was amazing how much one's head could hurt from smacking against a wooden post. Jack braced himself against the post and pushed up, thighs straining as hi back slid up the wood. He lurched to one side and landed on a low barrel.

That wonderful, taut belly he'd been stroking was now at approximately eye level, and was topped by a deliciously heaving chest. It was heaving because Will was angry about being touched like that, but Jack liked to think he could set it to heaving for other, entirely more lascivious reasons.

Will was still yelling on about ‘what right did he have?" and ‘keeping his filthy hands to himself'.

It took every bit of self-control Jack had ever possessed in his entire life to not lean forward, closer to that delightful navel, and fuck it with his tongue.

"Indecent," Jack heard.

‘Ah,' Jack thought, ‘So you're not totally oblivious to my intent.' Here Jack had been thinking the boy might just be ignorant, not understand why Jack kept invading his personal space like that. But no, he was acting much like a lady whose rump had been pinched at an inappropriate moment.

The boy was well aware of the sexual response he prompted in Jack. Interesting.

"Lad, clam yourself," Jack finally said when he regained the ability to speak. Just in the nick of time too. Will had raised one of his fists, which Jack thought made his forearm bulge in a very attractive manner. Attractive or not, though, it would hurt if it connected with Jack's already throbbing head. "Jus' trying to help, is all."

He staggered to his feet, leaning heavily on the post for support. He rubbed the back of his head. "Jesus wept, boy, you'd think I'd violated yer virginity, or something!"

Will stood back, dropped his fists to his sides and slightly unclenched them. That adorable furrow was back between his brows with a vengeance. Hair dishevelled from sleep, chest still heaving, nipples rock hard and begging to be sampled. Jack had to close his eyes for the umpteenth time that night. God, but those pants hugged those slim hips perfectly.

"Then how do you explain your actions?"

Jack opened his eyes. So the boy preferred to be wilfully naïve. Jack could square with that. Excellent.

"You cried out. I thought it was a nightmare, at first. I came down to see if you were all right and you were tossing, and, uh, moaning. I figure you're not used to sleeping aboard, savvy? So, I thought I would help." Jack spread his hands in a gesture of conciliation.

Will stepped further back.

"I hardly see how putting your hands on my…" He looked down, suddenly realizing his partial state of undress. The pants were riding below his waist, so low they almost exposed his jutting hipbones.

Jack's eyes couldn't help but follow the path of Will's. The thin trail of hair got a little wider just above the waistband, guiding the observer further down. Jack wondered how thick the hair might get, how long it would be, how soft it would be at the root of… he coughed and shook his head to clear it.

"Old sea fold remedy, lad. Rubbing the belly helps relieve the sea sickness, don't you know."

Will's frown deepened as he considered this. He had been certain the pirate was trying to take advantage of him. Jack had an unnerving way of leaning in too close and touching him at the most inopportune moments. But perhaps that was just his way.

Jack was making his way to the hatch. Apologetically gesturing as he swayed back and forth. He seemed genuinely contrite.

Perhaps Will had judged him wrong, after all, it was a bit presumptuous to think that the pirate would desire him Just because on touches someone else, it doesn't mean it's meant in a sexual way. It might even be arrogant, vain even, to assume…

Maybe will assumed Jack desired him because Will wanted him to.

Will sat back down on the pallet to think that one through. Could he possibly desire the pirate? He thought he'd only ever loved Elizabeth. In his whole life he's never even looked at another woman in a sexual manner. Come to think of it, he didn't even look at Elizabeth in an overtly sexual manner. Yet this filthy, disgusting pirate had filled him with such heat, only a few hours earlier, up on deck.

Standing so close, with his hands on Will's arms, the look in Jack's eyes had been scorching. Will had felt that look burn him right down to his toes. He's responded, to his shame. He'd felt the heat pooling in his groin, felt the flush spread across his face, across his chest, nipples hardening, pants tightening.

All that happened again, as Will remembered Jack's hand on his cheek. Could he really want to be touched by another man? His body seemed to want it.

Jack leaned over the railing, pulling in great gulps of fresh sea air. He's gotten out of that one. Convinced the boy of his innocuous good will. Thankfully. It made him feel lecherous, lusting after the boy. Indecent, indeed.

But his desire remained, unquenched. How many times had he taken himself in hand in the last 24 hours because of that innocent whelp? All because of his resemblance to his father. But it was never enough.

Jack closed his eyes and stood very still. He felt the wind on his face, smelled the ocean, and waited for the vision of Bootstrap Bill to swim into focus.

Bill was smiling, as he so often was. A good man, full of life and vigour, Bill was. But in this vision he was not just smiling for the love of life. No, he was smiling for an altogether more specific and less respectable cause.

Bootstrap reached out and grabbed jack by the scarf tied around his waist, tugged him closer, so close Jack could feel Bootstrap hardening against his hip. Bill tilted his head and covered Jack's mouth with his own.

Hot, slick, insistent tongue in Jack's mouth, probing him thoroughly, demanding entry. Possessing him. Jack's lips felt swollen as they opened wide; he fought to twist his tongue around the one invading his mouth.

Bootstrap purred deep and reached around to cup Jack's arse in one side, calloused hand. He kept purring as he ground his cock against Jack's. Jack got progressively dizzy, perhaps form lack of air, or maybe lack of blood to his brain. The scent of ale and spice was heady. Hands roamed all over his body now, and he felt his whole body surrender.

When Bootstrap was in this kind of mood, jack couldn't resist. It was like piloting the Black Pearl through a squall. You couldn't stop it from happening, you just had to hang on for dear life and hope you wouldn't be broken open on the rocks.

Jack rubbed his sensitive cock against the rail. He'd been so hard he was hurting, ever since he's felt Will's chestnut curls tickling his nose. God, the kid smelled so good, and felt even better.

Bootstrap pushed him down onto the bed, tearing at Jack's clothes until the captain was naked beneath him. Jack looked up with passion-darkened eyes at his lover. So strong and demanding. He wasn't like this often, but it was well worth the wait.

Hot, intense heat surrounded Jack as Bootstrap swallowed his cock in one dizzying movement. The suction was relentless, brutal even. Jack's hips bucked up involuntarily, craving completion before things even really got started.

Well, obviously. Watching his lover's son all day, all night, half-naked with those muscles gleaming in the moonlight, smelling the nutmeg and vanilla, all the while imagining how much spicier and more intense those aromas would get in the heat of passion.

Jack was torn. He didn't know what to concentrate on. Bootstrap was licking his way up Jack's body now, tongue flat and wet, licking the sweat and swirling his tongue around jack's nipples, along his collarbones, up his neck. Will's belly had been like satin, smooth and slick but still warm and dry, with that tantalizing line of soft, soft hair. Muscles hard under the supple skin, straining.

Bootstrap won out momentarily, by murmuring, "Yes, Captain Sparrow, you're mine," just before he took Jack's mouth in another furious kiss and rubbed their cocks together. He reached down between them and wrapped his long fingers around both organs, squeezing them together. Fingers slick with spit and leaking pre-come. Sliding over the matching lengths, slipping between them, thumb brushing across the sensitive heads, tugging then pushing then milking. Jack moaned out loud, the noise swallowed by Bootstrap's open mouth, at the same time it echoed over the calm, empty water.

Will climbed up through the hatch, determined to talk to Jack. He wasn't sure what to say. He though he might apologize for assuming the worst. It wasn't the pirate's fault if Will desired him. He thought he might talk with the older man a while, observe his own reactions to see if he was really attracted to the rogue, or if it was just some trick of the night. But what he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.

Captain Jack Sparrow was highlighted by the waning moonlight, head thrown back, eyes closed and mouth open. He had his cock in his hand, and a rather impressive member it was. His fist worked the length of it in perfect synchronization with Bootstrap' hand in his mind.

Will felt his own cock harden even more in response to what he witnessed. He felt the urge to rush over and replace jack's hand with his own. He wanted to feel the hard length under his fingers, and to make Jack moan.

And he did moan, when he reached his climax.

"Go, yes, Mr. Turner," he growled as his semen arced out over the railing and into the sea.

Will swallowed hard and dropped back down below deck.

---

Chapter 8 - Turnaround is Fair Play

Bootstrap Bill Turner was almost six feet tall, lean but solid, with long chestnut coloured hair and penetrating dark eyes. He had a narrow, sculpted sort of face, strong jaw line and full, moist lips. His tanned skin was smooth, stretched over powerful muscles, sprinkled with a little bit of soft dark hair on his chest, his belly and below.

He had a perfectly lovely cock, smooth like polished marble when it was hard, which was often, and it leaked copiously when he was getting ready to come. A nice fistful around, decent yet not overwhelming in length, exquisite round head on it ever so much larger than the shaft, enough to be a bit of a shock when you took it inside you, but not obscenely so.

And, of course, he had the most perfect arse on the ocean, round and high and firm and it looked particularly attractive when he was on his hands and knees, waiting for Captain Jack Sparrow to fuck him into oblivion. Which was also often.

These were the things Jack reminded himself of, over and over, as he and Will travelled from the Interceptor to the dock to meet their new crew.

He willed himself to not look at the ravishing young man in front of him, who looked so much like his dear, deceased father. He would not think about young Will Turner in that manner at all, any more. It was indecent and unfair to the lad. If he was to be plagued by thoughts of Bootstrap, he would relieve himself to memories of Bootstrap. He would not try to steal those memories from, or impose those memories, on an innocent young man.

It would be difficult to keep to that resolution the next time he had to look up and watch Will, say, climbing a ladder above him. Or he had to stand beside a bare-chested Will as he splashed water on his face from a barrel of rainwater aboard the Interceptor, as he had that very morning. Or perhaps a thousand other tempting situations.

But he resolved to be strong, and let the young Mr. Turner be.

Will Turner rowed toward the dock silently pondering his newfound attraction toward the dishevelled pirate he was ferrying across the bay. How could it be that he, a perfectly ordinary and normal man in every way, was attracted not only to another man, but the most disreputable and questionable man he had ever met?

But Will wasn't perfectly ordinary and normal, was he? He was the son of a pirate. And he had obviously inherited his father's disreputable and questionable ways. How else to explain this unbidden and forbidden lust he felt deep in his loins?

Two days ago he would never have thought such a sentence, let alone actually pondered what these feelings meant. So much for being constant and true.

But being the adventurous sort at heart, he speculated about what it would be like to act on these strange feelings of desire.

Eccentric, yes, but Captain Jack Sparrow was not without his charms. Oh, he was a rascal, to be sure. And filthy, but that could be fixed with some hot water and soap. And a comb, a comb would definitely be required. New clothes of course. And a week away from rum.

That last one might be a sticking point.

But the Captain was attractive. He had a handsome face, lively black eyes and a charmingly wicked smile. The gold teeth were a bit off-putting at first, but Will had grown used to them. He was older than Will, but still in fine physical form. Surprising, really, considering all the rum. The pirate could certainly hold his own in a sword fight, and Will found himself wondering how that agility might translate to more intimate activities.

It was of no use, though. Will had no real experience with more intimate activities. He had no way of knowing how his naïve imaginings would compare with the real thing. Up until last night all of his youthful imaginings were about Elizabeth.

Elizabeth, who was being held captive by those despicable pirates on the Black Pearl. He was wasting valuable time, time he should be using to rescue her, not to wonder about an illicit liaison with a pirate who was not so different from her captors.

He rowed harder, desperate to get to the dock as soon as possible. He had to find Elizabeth and get away from this terrible temptation.

Last night, after what he saw on deck, he laid back down on the rough bed, unable to sleep, unable to rest. Unable to stop thinking. The pirate desired him, and he desired the pirate.

The throbbing in his cock made it hard for him to concentrate. He reckoned since he'd already fouled himself by craving the pirate, he might as well go ahead and settle his nerves by satisfying his bodily urges as well.

Will lay back on the bed and ran his hand down his chest. He'd never considered a male chest attractive before, but it felt good under his hand. The skin was smooth, the flesh firm. He ran a fingertip experimentally around on nipple. The little nub hardened and his breath caught in his throat. Interesting, as Jack might say.

His other hand opened the fastenings on his trousers and slid under inside to grip his hard cock. He closed his eyes and pictured the roguish captain. What would it feel like to hold him? His body would be hard, strong, demanding… will bit his lip as he imagined how Jack's moustache would tickle when they kissed, how his hands would feel tangled in Will's hair. He worked his hand up and down the length of his cock faster.

He was rock hard, smooth as polished marble. The head of his cock was bulbous, considerably wider than the shaft but not disgustingly so. The skin folded back from the round head and cool air swept over the moist tip. He stopped toying with his nipple and reached down to run a rough fingertip over the leaking head of his cock.

Some intuition, or instinct, or whim, made him raise his hand to his lips, and as the other hand brought him over the edge he licked his wet fingers. The salty taste made his tongue tingle. He sucked the slippery digits into his mouth to stifle his moan as he came.

An abrupt jar brought Will to his senses. He'd rowed the little boat straight into the piling at the end of the dock.

The pirate was looking at him with a strange _expression on his face. As if he wanted to kiss him and slap him across the face at the same time. Will was sure he was imagining the kissing part.

The younger man muttered an apology and climbed up to the dock. He had been sure he was the object of his companion's desires. He'd been trying all morning to get some confirmation of that. He'd even stood right next to Jack, half-naked as it were, when he washed himself that morning. The infuriating rogue hadn't made a move in his direction.

Will was starting to worry he would be stuck with a partially erect cock and an unquenchable lust for the rest of the journey.

Of course, Will didn't know the proper etiquette in these matters. He would have to watch and learn. Perhaps the pirate was sending him some sort of signal he couldn't read. He would be diligent, stay close to the older man, be his very shadow. Wait for the opportune moment.

As Will stood in the boat, jack got an agonizingly clear view of his arse muscles flexing to keep his balance. Trousers stretched tight over solid thigh muscles. And that delightful forearm bulge as Will gripped the rung of a ladder. He had to stop himself from jumping up and throwing the boy down on the bottom of the boat, ripping off his clothes and giving him the fucking of a lifetime.

Jack watched Will's exquisite arse disappear over the edge of the dock and sighed. It was so hard to be good. So very hard.

---

Chapter 9 - Breathless

Some storms are so strong you can't fight them any longer. You'll tear yourself apart, as Mr. Gibbs told him a dozen times before Captain Jack Sparrow finally relented and ordered his crew to drop canvas.

The were sufficiently caught up to the Black Pearl that he was confident this would all be over by morning. Now to go below for some much needed rest.

Alas, there was young Mr. Turner. Taking his own rest after a nasty crack on the skull a few minutes earlier. All alone below deck, nursing his wound. Not really a wound, more like a bump. But he was all alone, nonetheless. Did that have anything to do with Jack giving up the wheel to Anamaria at that particular point in time?

Jack thought not.

No, he's completely put will Turner out of his thoughts. He'd forgotten all about the enticing lad, and was solely concerned with the recapture of his old ship.

A seasoned pirate, he would be able to sleep soundly in spite of wild waves tossing him around, and he would do so while assiduously ignoring the lithe, lovely blacksmith. Yes, he would indeed. Sleep and be fully rested for when he would finally confront that mutinous dog Barbossa.

He was not even going to think about sex. And he certainly wasn't going to think about having sex with the son of his old lover. And he was most definitely not going to think about how utterly delicious young Mr. Turner looked as he gazed up at his captain, eyes wide with fright. Not used to storms, but that didn't mean he needed any comforting. No, sir, not from this pirate. He wasn't going to take advantage of a scared, injured boy.

Will wasn't afraid of the storm. He wasn't worried about the little bump on his head, which he had slightly exaggerated, if anyone wanted to be really picky about it, so he could be alone with Jack down below. What he was worried about was whether he looked attractive to the pirate.

Just what would a scoundrel like Jack Sparrow find attractive in another man? Will didn't have a clue, but he hoped he possessed some quality the pirate would notice.

Jack had been distant ever since they picked up the crew and headed out. Will had no idea why he was so intent on catching up with Barbossa. After all, it was Will's ladylove who was in trouble. But determined as Jack Sparrow was, he'd been all but ignoring his bewildered young shipmate.

Now Jack lay awkwardly on the narrow bed next to the chair Will sat in.

‘I will not jump the boy, I will not jump the boy,' Jack repeated in his head.

How was that going to be possible? The boy's hair, wet from the storm, had escaped its customary binding and fell about his face in dripping ringlets, his dark eyes were huge, his sensuous lips parted slightly, faint light from the lantern cast deep shadows under those lovely cheekbones and the brow creased deeply.

‘I'm in love with a brow crease,' Jack thought to himself, and chuckled out loud.

Will looked insulted. "What is so funny?"

Jack smiled broadly, and propped himself up on his elbows. "D'you always have to be so earnest, lad? Put yer feet up, relax. This is a pirate ship now. You don't have to be so upstanding.

That was a good one. Put the boy right off the scent.

Speaking of scent, the quite drenched Will was giving off an enticing aroma. It was that salty spicy warm custard sort of smell, with the nutmeg and the vanilla. For a moment, Jack couldn't tell if he was hungry or aroused.

Definitely aroused, judging by the way his cock sprang into full hardness when the boy got up and sat down on the edge of the bed.

The same bed Jack was lying on.

Will took a deep breath. Now or never. He sat on the narrow ledge with the side of his arse pressed up against Jack's thigh.

No big deal, he though. He's broken a condemned man out of jail, stolen a ship of the royal navy, joined a band of highly dubious pirates – after all that, how could kissing another man be so earth shattering?

"I, um, what I mean to say…" he stuttered.

This was definitely interesting. Jack propped himself a little higher, all the better to hear the lad's soft voice, and appreciate the heat radiating off his lithe body in spite of the cold, wet clothes clinging to his frame. Clinging to a lean waist, and toned thighs, and long well-muscled arms, even clinging to the ridge of Will's prominent collarbone, right there below the most exquisite neck tendon with a rapid pulse beating visibly above it.

‘I will NOT jump the boy!'

Why was Will having so much trouble with this? He leaned toward Jack, hoping the pirate would just get the message. He wasn't sure if he was supposed to ask permission, or talk about what he wanted, or even if he was allowed to want anything at all. He was so nervous he was shaking.

Jack could see the young man was shaking. Whatever could the problem be? And why, oh why, would the boy feel compelled to talk to the one person on the ship who so patently did not have Will's best interests at heart, only his own?

‘If only he would stop licking his lips like that, then I could ignore the fact that he's nigh sitting on my lap,' Jack thought to himself in the instant before thought gave up the ghost and instinct took over.

Instinct helped out by an exceptionally fierce wave that rocked the ship abruptly starboard and threw Will's trembling body on top of Jack's.

So that was what it was like to kiss a man. Jack's moustache did not tickle so much as, um, stimulate.

Jack swept his tongue across the luscious lips under his own. Soft, yet firm, pursed in anticipation of a kiss? Or was that some sort of prudery? They parted as Will let out a startled cry.

Oh, yes, he tastes sweet. But nothing at all like custard, more like a fresh peach tart, with ginger and nutmeg and a touch of cream. The vanilla didn't come through in the taste, although it remained prominent in the scent. How it was that the boy could taste that good when they'd been at sea for days was a mystery Jack didn't care to ponder. He was far too busy exploring the hot interior of Will's mouth.

Will allowed Jack's tongue to have its way with him. Startled, but not scared now. The coarse hairs brushing against his upper lip tingled. Jack's lips were hard and demanding, which made him want to open his mouth even more.

He dipped his tongue tentatively toward Jack's mouth. Slithered below Jack's tongue, past his lips, into the vaguely rum-flavoured interior. The bottom of Jacks' tongue was slippery. Shocking how the heat from Jack's mouth ran into Will, spread through his chest and down between his legs. Instantly.

The tongue was something he hadn't quite thought of in his naïve imaginings. Slick and probing. He'd had no idea it would feel so good to have someone lick the backs of his teeth like that. Dizziness washed over him, and he grabbed Jack's arm for support.

Jack felt the boy swoon, but it took a few seconds for it to register. He was too involved in his explorations to notice until the grip on his bicep began to hurt. He regretfully pulled away from the perfect mouth.

"Y'alright there, lad? That was a nasty wallop on yer skull." Jack deftly swung Will down so he was lying beside him. Just the was he used to snuggle close with Bootstrap.

Will stared up at him. Again with the swirling chocolate depths. Jack's cock leapt when he looked into those eyes, every damn time.

"Just a little breathless, I guess," Will panted through swollen lips.

Well, that was something to think about. But he'd have to think about it later. The only thought Jack could pluck from his mind went something along these lines – I guess I won't need to be dreaming about Bootstrap tonight.

Jack smiled down at him. "And I haven't even given you anything to be breathless about yet, lad."

He slid a hand into Will's loose shirt and searched out, ah yes, and found one perfect hard little nipple.

The purr that escaped Will's throat filled the air, drowning out the sounds of the storm and the sea.

"But I will, Mr. Turner, I promise you that."

---

Chapter 10 - Surrender

It is one thing to tease a hard nipple between one's fingers, and quite another to tease a hard nipple between one's fingers while the owner of said nipple makes the most arousing purring noises imaginable.

Jack held his breath as he watched Will's eyes slide shut, his mouth fall open, his head roll back, his hands clench into tight fists. And listened to the deep, rolling purr.

The line of Will's jaw pointed his chin straight up in the air, and Jack could not resist bending down to seep his tongue across the fine hairs of Will's beard. Downy soft. Lovely.

Will tilted his head down and caught Jack's lips with his own. There was that delicious taste again, and it was Jack's turn to growl.

Never. Never would Jack get enough of kissing this boy. He was sure of it. It was sublime. And Will seemed to have lost his shyness, at least when it came to kissing. His tongue jabbed into Jack's mouth, insistent and needy. Jack sucked the slick muscle into his mouth and sucked on it gently.

Will responded by rearing up off the bed violently while thrusting his tongue even further past Jack's pursed lips. His hands came up to grasp Jack's biceps, squeezing them urgently. Lord, the lad had strong hands.

Jack's fingers had not left the hardened nipple. He wondered if Will would just keep getting more and more excited as long as he continued, and how long it would take him to reach his peak from it, if that were the case. Then he thought there were too many other things he wanted to do other than answer that specific question at this particular moment.

Jack released the nipple and Will let out a disappointed little mewl into his mouth. Jack released Will's tongue, causing Will to let out a long sigh. He fell back on the hard bed with a minor thud.

Will tried to keep track of what was happening, but the sensation coursing through him confused him. He had kissed the pirate, and the pirate had kissed him back. Obviously, Will had not been mistaken about the pirate's attraction to him after all. Then the pirate had taken hole of Will's nipple and that was where Will's ability to follow the action accurately got bewildered.

He knew a tongue had been grazing his chin, and that had to have been Jack's, because no one else was there. Then his tongue was in the pirate's mouth. Being sucked. Oh, God, that was what had happened. Jack sucked his tongue and Will thought, it was so insane but he thought it anyway, that his cock was getting even harder and he tried very hard to imagine it was his cock being sucked, not his tongue.

Will was torn between being disgusted by the idea and wanting his tongue back in Jack's mouth. There was a definite connection between his tongue and his cock, and Will was determined to learn more about it.

Jack had other ideas. He yanked Will's shirt out of his waistband, pulling the garment over his head.

Now there was a sight. Young Master Turner with both arms up over his head, wrists tangled in his sodden shirt, struggling to free himself. If cameras had been invented, jack would have taken pictures. Two, at least. More likely two dozen.

He ducked hi mouth down to the broad chest below and pulled the painfully aroused nipple between his lips, whilst flicking at it with the tip of his tongue. He had to hold onto the edge of the bed as Will's entire body, from head to tow, undulated beneath him.

Bootstrap had never been this sensitive.

He swept his hand down over Will's tightened stomach muscles, lingering around the indentation of his navel. The other hand slid under will's lower back, and it was easy to coax Will up, so pliable, so willing, so that his back was arched. Jack ran his tongue toward the navel.

Will's hands tangled in Jack's hair when the pirate's tongue made its first stab. He fought to gain control of his body, to stop this madness, but it was a lost fight. The pirate never played fair. How could one possibly behave in a proper manner when a hot, wet tongue was swirling around a sensitive area like that?

Jack held onto Will's hips with both hands to keep from being thrown off the bed. The boy was writhing all over the place. The pirate stopped fucking the lovely little hollow with his tongue to look up. Will seemed to have given up on freeing his arms, which were thrown wantonly above his head.

A furious wave threatened to toss both men to the floor. Jack pushed will down to gain some leverage and swung one leg over Will's to anchor them both to the bed.

"Steady there, lad. Don't want to be flying off, do we?" He growled, barely audible above the racket of the storm. He raised his hand to stroke the sensitive skin under Will's upper arm. The muscle twitched, and Jack's gaze followed the attractive curve down to a thatch of soft, black hair.

He moved his head to nuzzled under Will's arm. Hot, intoxicating, spicy musk filled his head. He couldn't resist a little lick, and Will bucked under him. Ticklish. Fascinating. Jack raised his head, a bit dazed from the sensory overload.

Hmm, the brow crease was deep, and the deep brown eyes swam with emotion. Uncertainty. Apprehension. A little bit of disgust. With jack? With himself? Who knew? Lust, that definitely lay underneath everything. At the root of everything.

"What do you intend to do with me?" Will demanded, in a not entirely demanding way since his voice was almost as shaky as the rest of him. Which was trembling prettily.

Jack could do nothing to stop the smirk from spreading across his face. "Nothing that will hurt, fear not. Although, judging from your reactions thus far, I'd say you might be in for a few surprises." He reached up to untangle Will's hands from the shirt. As stimulating as the thought of a tied up and very aroused Will Turner at his mercy was, Jack did not want the boy to think he was being forced into anything.

Once his hands were freed, Will looked nervously up, in the direction of the deck, the crew. The storm.

"Don't fret, luv, we won't be disturbed. They're under orders to stay topside, eh. But I could lock the hatch, if it'd give you some reassurance like."

The chocolate pools widened impossibly and Will struggled to sit up. His movements jolted Jack, who ended up practically in Will's lap, erection pressing painfully into the boy's hard stomach. Jack gritted hi teeth and attempted to maintain outer calm.

He stroked the side of Will's face, easing his frantic _expression. "S'okay, luv. I'm not locking you anywhere. Relax." His fingers wandered into the damp chestnut curls and ran through the silky lengths. "Shh, I know. You can't stand the idea of being locked up, ‘specially not under the water line."

He saw the wonder in Will's eyes, the amazement that Jack understood so thoroughly. Jack continued cooing words and noises of comfort as he stroked Will's hair and cheek, drawing him back, pulling him away from his fear and back into his lust. There, that was much better. He stroked down Will's strong back, up over defined shoulders, lingering in that little dimple at the top of the deltoid, back down the smooth chest past navel to waistband.

Will was half-sitting, propped up on his elbows, shirtless with the pirate on top of him. He looked up into lust-black eyes, and the tips of teeth showing through parted lips.

"You mean to have your way with me then…" he stuttered. Helpless.

Jack grinned. "Don't be so vexed. I do only what you want me to, only what we both want, so neither of us has to satisfy ourselves all by our onesie's tonight. And, on my honour, I do swear to you that I shall endeavour to entertain and gratify you with each and every activity the evening brings."

Will just blinked. The nipple the pirate had sucked ached. His tongue tingled. He could feel the wet spot where Jack had licked under his arm. Even the hair on his chin bristled from the touch of the pirate's tongue. And his navel, well, the jury was out on whether he would ever be able to look at his own stomach ever again without getting hard.

Jack was snaking down his body now, licking and kissing as he went. Nipping gently at his shoulder, Swiping his flat tongue against the untouched nipple. Breathing hot and heavy against his stomach. Will fell back with a loud thud that coincided with a wave crashing against the side of the boat to his right.

Jack was fumbling with the fastenings on Will's trousers now, and Will became suddenly aware of the scope and embarrassing severity of his erection. He reached down to feebly push Jack away from his groin, but Jack succeeded in pulling the fabric away and Will ended up with two handfuls of tangled, beaded hair and a wave of searing hot breath flowing over his rigid member.

The noise that came from Will's throat was feral, more demanding than a purr, more shameless than a growl. Jack was going to have to deal with his own erection soon, especially if the boy insisted on making sinfully arousing noises like that, but he would concentrate first on giving as much pleasure as he could muster.

Will gave up, closed his eyes, concentrated on the feeling of a slick tongue tracing around the head of his cock. It felt better than anything he's ever felt in his whole life.

He couldn't understand why he had ever thought it could be wrong.

*****

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