Parts 11-15

Posted: August 2003
Author: Haleth

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Chapter 11 - Pleasure

"Yesss," Jack hissed, and bent to lick the weeping slit again. The taste exploded on his tongue, all salt and spice and maleness. The finest taste on earth he thought. The round head was now slick with slaivs, Jack having licked around and around it, while savouring the taste and the velvety stretched-smooth texture.

He slid his fingers down the rigid shaft to the nest of thick, glossy, almost black curls it rose from. His fingers toyed with the hair as his tongue toyed with the swollen head of Will's cock.

Will was beside himself with pleasure. This was remarkably better than his own hand, and infinitely better than anything he'd imagined. But then again, he's never imagined a mouth being used on him in quite that fashion.

His whole concept of sex was rather vague and wrapped up in romance and frankly immature niceties. He'd used his hand on himself, and knew he was supposed to go inside his female lover somewhere, and he'd seen various different animals, so he had a rough idea of what that place might look like, although he'd never in actuality seen a woman. Not like that.

Most often he thought about soft lips and whispered endearments when he was bringing himself to completion. This was entirely different.

Jack's fingers were splayed across his lower belly, with Will's shaft rising between two of them. The fingers pressed against him, holding him down on the bed. Jack's other hand wandered over his hip and stomach in long, soothing stroked.

With a sudden, impulsive movement Jack took all of Will's cock into his mouth. Will raised his head dazedly to see his long shaft disappearing into the pirate's open mouth. Black eyes stared up at him, blazing.

Up on deck, Mr. Cotton pulled with all his might on the lashing holding some barrels of supplies to the base of the mast, trying desperately to keep from being thrown overboard in the gale. He stopped in his efforts for a moment to better listen to the low, desperate moan issuing from directly beneath him. He grimaced. He didn't know what Captain Sparrow was doing to that poor lad, but he would bet it involved the captain's lovely pink tongue.

Jack sucked the length to the back of his throat. It had been a while since he'd indulged in behaviour of this ilk. He's been suffering from reduced circumstances for some time, and it wasn't very often such a beautiful young man presented himself to a notorious rogue such as himself, short on resources and all. But out of practice or not, he was determined to take the whole of young Mr. Turner into his mouth at once.

Was this normal? Will didn't care. He never wanted it to end. He wanted this devastating heat, this exquisite suction, and this delirious pleasure to last forever. He struggled not to buck hi hips and choke the handsome pirate.

Did he thing that? Yes, Captain Jack Sparrow was handsome, Will would have freely admitted that, had he been capable of lucid speech. Problem was he could only babble disjointedly, words randomly escaping his lips, words that he's never uttered before. He would have been shocked to listen to himself. It was fortunate all he could hear was the pounding of his own heart and the roar of the waves outside.

He felt the pressure rising to unbearable levels and realized he was about to release into jack's mouth. Unthinkable!

He pushed his hands against the pirate's ratted hair and scrabbled backwards on the hard be.

"No," he whispered, horrified at what he's been about to do.

Jack was stunned when the delicious and utterly lovely cock pulled away from his lips. Away? That was the wrong direction!

The confusion on Will's face explained it all. Of course, the boy'd never done this before. He had no clue how much Jack wanted him to explode between his lips, to fill his mouth with his delectable cream. He probably didn't even realize his cream was delectable.

Will was trembling again and shaking his head, and pushing Jack away. Ashamed again? More like terrified. Silly boy. This was getting tiresome. Even if the virginal manner did have its attractive qualities.

Jack, after a bit of fumbling, managed to grab will's flailing hands and held them close together, against his own chest.

"Shh, luv, I know this is all new and a bit disturbing, eh, but trust me like, savvy?" He tried to calm his lust enough to smile in a reassuring way, with little success. He had to try, though; he had to calm the lad down enough to be able to get that sinfully delicious cock back into his mouth where it belonged.

He raised Will's captive hands to his mouth and kissed the knuckles lightly. Turned one hand over and placed a chaste, reassuring kiss on the palm. Trailed his lips up the index finger, placing the lightest possible kiss on the roughened tip. Drew the tip between his lips and swirled his tongue over it. Took the digit deeper into his mouth and sucked delicately.

Will gasped as Jack repeated the treatment on each finger, and then on the other hand. The warmth of his tongue, the wetness of his saliva, the softness of his lips, everything brought the pulsing heat back into Will's groin with a vengeance. Obviously, there was a connection between his fingers and his cock as well.

Jack dropped one hand down between Will's legs, under his balls, and cupped it around the tightening sacs. Definitely not a eunuch. He stroked the lightly furred skin tenderly.

He was rewarded with a new purr, and the sight of Will's eyelashes shuttering down across swimming chocolate, his mouth opening in surprise, pink tongue sweeping out nervously and thirstily over his parted lips.

Jack needed to taste that mouth again. He rose to his knees and captured the rosy lips with his, all the while gently pressing against his new treasure. He grabbed Will's hardened length with his other hand and began a steady pumping action, not too fast, not too hard.

This time, Will sucked Jack's tongue into his mouth, and the pirate thought he might come right then without being touched at all. Fast learner, this one.

Then Jack's hand picked up the pace and Will purred, hummed, moaned around Jack's extended tongue. The fluid leaking from the engorged tip coated Jack's fingers, slicking them and easing their way. Jack could smell how close Will was to reaching his climax. He wanted, more than anything, to take the head back in his mouth, to catch the release on his tongue, but he was afraid of how Will might react.

The boy's breath quickened, his grip on Jack's shoulders was like iron, he let go of Jack's tongue and threw his head back, almost keening.

Jack felt the flesh under his hand stiffen even more, go utterly still, and then pulse violently. His hand was coated with hot, sticky semen in an instant. Another pulse, more wetness, a third, fourth and fifth. Jack gently squeezed, milking every drop he could.

Will was staring at him in wonder, panting and looking wholly ravished. His eyes narrowed as Jack raised his hand slowly to his mouth and flicked his tongue out. Kohl-lined eyes closed as the pirate savoured the taste.

"William," he whispered softly.

Will dropped his hand down and tried to untie the sash wrapped around the pirate's hips. He yanked the fabric away, and his hand bumped against the thick, hard shape of Jack's desire. His fingers scrabbles at the pants, aching to give at least some of the pleasure he'd received back again.

Jack finished licking the last of Will's seed form his hand before he realized what the younger man was trying to do. He hastened to aid him in his quest and was rewarded by the warmth and friction of Will's hand around his length.

Will wasn't sure what to do, but judging by Jack's stiffness he was pretty close to coming, so Will decided the kindest thing was to give him the quickest fulfillment possible. He gave his wrist a sharp twist and ran his hand up the length, as move he'd found himself to enjoy very much.

Jack let out a low rumble. The boy was good with his hands, he'd give him that for free.

The two men were kneeling on the bed, heads grazing a low ceiling beam. Will's pants were pushed down still, so Jack had only to pull himself forward a few inched to be able to reach around the boy, slide his hands down over a muscular back and narrow waist, to bring his hands onto that most breathtaking arse.

He kneaded the smooth skin, felt firm flesh give way to his probing fingers, felt muscles jerk when he pushed his hips forward and Will's fist, still firmly wrapped around Jack, came into contact with his own rehardening cock.

Their lips came together once more at the moment Jack exploded. Will whimpered at how harshly Jack clutched his arse, but that noise was muffled by Jack's tongue planted firmly in his mouth.

The thick, warm semen felt familiar on his hand, but he knew it wasn't his, and the thought made the skin of his hands prickle with excitement. He remembered the look of ecstasy on Jack's face when he'd tasted Will's come, so he lifted his hand up to their still-joined mouths.

Two tongues slithered out in tandem to lick the salty fluid, and they touched each other, making eyes fly open simultaneously. They lapped and sucked together until Will's hand was clean.

Jack fell to the bed, shuddering. The intensity was overwhelming. Rum never got him this drunk. He craved more, more of the boy's invigorating kisses, more of his lithe, hard body, more of his delicious, spicy taste, and especially more of his flawless curved arse.

Memories new and old swam though his mind, and he experienced every encounter he'd ever had with a Turner all at once. Will's purrs, Bootstrap's moans, the son's spicy scent, the father's delicious taste. But nothing compared to the feel of Will's tongue twisting against his as they lapped up Jack's release together.

Jack sighed loudly, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the few remaining drops of seed across his swollen lips.

"Jesus, boy, even better than your father."

Oh. No.

He'd said that out loud.

---

Chapter 12 - Lost His Will

Captain Jack sparrow sat on a godforsaken spit of land in the middle of the ocean, head in his hands, while a five hundred foot high signal fire blazed before him and a boat full of the royal navy's best rowed towards him. Dejected. His ship was gone. The rum was gone, His pride was gone.

He'd lost his Will.

Oh, and ‘she' was going to be incredibly impossible now.

How could he have gone from such heights of ecstasy to this foul pit of despair in such a short period of time?

He closed his eyes and recalled the sublime taste of Will Turner. Such heavenly sounds he's heard as he brought the boy to peak of pleasure. His fingers itched to feel that smooth skin under his fingers again.

He'd tried, the night before, to roll with the punches. Tried to make the best of a decidedly bad situation. But that sadistic wench had lured him into a drunken stupor with her flirtatious actions, her clever song, and her seductive words. All she really wanted was to get Will back, and that's all Jack really wanted too.

Alas, it was too late.

Will had stood quaking by the side of the bed, chest slick with sweat and belly glistening with a mixture of his and Jack's seed. The tantalizing narrow line of dark hair was black and matted against his taut stomach. His hair was wild around his face. And the little crease between his lovely brows was deep with fury.

"Bloody pirate!" Spat it out with venom.

The look on Will's previously innocent face, when he realized that Jack had been the lover of dear departed Bootstrap. Such an _expression of utter betrayal.

And now, even if he could find a way to get back to the Isle do Muerte in time and save the whelp's life, well, the pirate knew he would never be taken back.

When that oar hit him across the face, all Jack could think was that he's deserved that. He uncategorically deserved that. He'd completely and unalterably cocked it up by invoking the name of the boy's father.

* * *

It was torture, sheer and complete torture, to stand in the cavern surrounded by heaps of glittering swag, the promise of freedom and the Black Pearl so close Jack could almost taste it, and to be unable to revel in it.

Because there stood Will turner, defiant and fuming and breathtakingly beautiful in a shaft of pale moonlight.

With his hands tied behind his back.

‘If I had the lad tied up like that, he certainly wouldn't be standing," Jack found himself thinking. ‘He'd be lying on the ground writhing in rapturous delight while I finally got to taste his seed from the source, drawing it from the root and swallowing it like a fine champagne, that's what I'd be doing.'

Will glared at him, blissfully unaware that his righteous anger only served to heighten the pirate's desire for him.

When the fight finally began, Jack felt the thrill of battle course through him.

Elizabeth was safely tucked away on the Dauntless, and would be rescued by the ridiculously upstanding Commodore Norrington, who would no doubt whisk her away to safety as soon as he conquered the soon to be un-cursed pirates. She would marry the pompous stuffed shirt, as befitted a stuck up prude such as herself. And Will would not, in fact, have to die.

He would sail off on the Black Pearl with Captain Jack Sparrow, where they would have much larger and more luxurious quarters in which to pursue altogether more satisfying activities.

It's hard not to be optimistic when everything seems to be going in your favour.

He would have done a better job of hacking Barbossa to bits, after all he was a far superior swordsman, were it not for the damnable distraction of young Mr. Turner battling not one but three cursed pirates.

The way he lunged and slashed at them, leaping from rock to plateau, all flying hair and clashing blades, long lean limbs and flexing muscled, it was poetry in motion.

In fact, Jack thought he might actually have to write some poetry for the lad. Something strong and manly, not flowery. Something that starts out noble and pure and ends in a good, hot and sweaty roll in the hay.

Then that damned wench showed up. Again. Rowing to the rescue, intent on saving her fair Romeo. She had this incredible knack for spoiling everything.

As for Will, he was so relieved to have her in front of him again, and to not have to deal with his real lover, he forgot all about Captain Jack Sparrow.

* * *

Of course, Will came through with the daring if ill-thought-through rescue attempt. It warmed jack's heart to think that the lad was willing to suffer the hangman's noose for the sake of a contemptible rogue such as himself.

And there was no small satisfaction in knowing, as he took one last glance over his shoulder during his swim to the Pearl, that there was no way in hell the lad would have kissed his fair damsel quite like that had Captain Jack Sparrow not taught him how to do so in the first place.

At least he was back on the Black Pearl. Life was back to normal.

* * *

Jack staggered down some seedy street in some godforsaken port he couldn't remember the name of, remembering all that had passed some two years before. He still couldn't bear to think of the lad without prior consumption of at least enough rum to down the average man. Fortunately, he was not an average man.

He was Captain Jack Sparrow.

And the infamous pirate captain squinted and swayed in the dull light of a waning moon, and beheld amidst the haze of the night, a figure most familiar, right there at the end of the lane.

Tall and lean, with a head of thick wavy hair. Broad shoulders, long limbs, a shaft of light falling at just the right angle to highlight his lovely arse. Standing erect and making Jack erect at the same time.

The man turned in Jack's direction, and recognition dawned in wide chocolate eyes.

"Saint's alive, if it isn't Captain Jack Sparrow," a musical voice exclaimed.

Jack dropped his half-empty rum bottle on the cobblestones and gasped.

"Bootstrap!"

---

Chapter 13 - The Tale of Bootstrap

Strong arms encircled Captain Jack sparrow in an enthusiastic bear hug, and it was all Jack could do to not cry.

Bootstrap was not only alive and well, but standing right in front of him, holding him up, as it were.

"Easy, mate, you've had a wee bit much to drink there, Captain." Bootstrap hooked one arm around Jack's waist and steered him down the lane. "There's a well just around this corner. We'll get you a nice drink of water."

Jack allowed himself to be half-carried to a town square. The pirate slumped down onto a low wall while Bootstrap lowered a wooden bucket down into the deep well.

"My goodness, now isn't this a coincidence, us running into each other here. I always knew you'd find a way off that island. I said to meself, if anyone can survive that godforsaken spit of land, it's Captain Jack Sparrow." Bootstrap seemed totally oblivious to Jack's state of complete shock. "You're looking a bit peaked though, Captain Sparrow. Here, this'll help. He handed him a cup of the cool, fresh water.

Jack too the proffered tin cup from Bootstrap and took a long, deep drink. Then promptly spewed the foul liquid out all over the street.

"Good God, William, are you trying to kill me, eh?" He sputtered, wiping the pure liquid from his face. "Haven't you got any proper drink?"

"Sorry, Jack. Forgot. Here," he produced a sliver flask from his vest pocket and handed it to the pirate.

"Tha's much better. Ta much." Jack squinted up at the form of his old shipmate and lover standing next to him. Unbelievable.

"Will," he murmured. "William, I mean. Of course. Bill. Bootstrap Bill Turner. How in the name of – "

bootstrap let out a huge laugh. "Wondering when you'd ask that!" He sat down on the wall.

"You look bloody fantastic!"

And he did. Bootstrap's hair was long and shiny, falling in gentle waves around his handsome face. He was tan and healthy, just a tad thicker at the waist than he used to be, but obviously fit and in fine form. His eyes sparkled with pleasure at seeing his old lover.

"You mean, ‘for a dead man', don't ye?"

No, Jack didn't mean for a dead man. He meant for any man alive or dead in the history of all mankind. Softer lines than Will, with a few more wrinkles around the eyes. He was a more mature version of the young blacksmith. More confidence, less bravura. When he smiled, he showed clean white teeth. Bootstrap had always had phenomenally white, even teeth for a pirate. Jack wanted to feel them graze his nipples and nip on the soft skin of his inner thigh. Now they almost glowed between ripe, soft lips Jack yearned to kiss, but he let Bootstrap go on with his story.

"Well, I don't know how much you know about the curse…"

"I know of it."

"Yeah, well, I suspected it all along. And I wanted to punish Barbossa. You know, Jack, I never would have let them do that to you, if there was any way to stop them I would have. Anyway, I knew we was cursed before the others caught on to it, I could sense it right off, like. And I thought we deserved it, yes I did. I sent a piece of the treasure to my son. I wanted the curse to last. But here I am, so the curse must have been broken somehow."

Bootstrap's eyes shone in the moonlight. Rich, dark chocolate brown, just like his son's. Jack wanted to see them glimmer at him in the lamplight of his cabin, as Jack kissed hi way down Bootstrap's torso, licking and sucking on every square inch of skin.

Lovely shaped brows framed them, really lovely. But there was no crease between them, not a trace of it. Whatever had befallen Bootstrap had made him stop his worrying.

"Barbossa, that scabrous hound, he thought he'd have the last laugh sending me to the bottom of the ocean like that. It was deep, Jack. Deep and cold, but I didn't feel that, being cursed and all. I kept going down, further and further. It got darker and soon I couldn't see anything. But I didn't die. Couldn't die, could I? I don't really know how long I was there. Hungry, thirsty, lonely…"

You poor thing, Jack thought. If only I could have been there to help. I would have fed you, given you something to drink, held you tight so you weren't lonely anymore. I would have taken your lovely face in my hands and kissed the life back into you, stroked all over your luscious body with my hands and my tongue to bring the warmth back. He reached up a hand and laid it on Bootstrap's shoulder. Flexed his fingers, felt the rounded muscles and heat under his shirt.

"But you know, Barbossa. He was never a good sailor. Good pirate, sure. Decent enough navigator, but a terrible sailor. And he tied the knots himself, wanted to punish me for being so close to you. He always had it in for me, ye know."

Jack thought of the last time he'd seen Bootstrap. They were lying tangled in the sheets of the captain's bunk on the Black Pearl. Half-naked and sweaty, exhausted from a long and satisfying session of sweet lovemaking. When Barbossa and his mutinous crew butst into the cabin, Bootstrap had instinctively reached out for jack, and Jack had fought the leprous dogs with all his might. The memory of Bootstrap's hand slipping out of his as they were pulled apart made jack's fingers ache.

"I just lay there on the floor of the ocean for the longest time. Gave up all me hope. I couldn't fight the despair of it. I figured you were long gone, I was cursed, nothing to live for. That was a blessing though. I mean, you know me better than any soul on earth or ocean, so you know my terrible fear of drowning. But the curse helped me there, took away all my fear so I could bear it. So, one day, or night, who can tell? I noticed the bonds were loose. The knots were coming undone. Barbossa never could tie a knot to save his life."

Or to end yours, Jack gloated. Joy surged through him. He was sitting next to Bootstrap. He could feel the heat pouring off the man. He could smell spices and salt and the inescapable musk of his old lover. He breathed deep and held the scent in for as long as he could.

"So I got up, savvy? Just got up and started walking. Didn't know what direction I was going in, I had no bearing, I just walked. And pretty soon things got lighter, as the surface got closer, and next thing I knew I was walking out of the water up to a beach. Oh, gorgeous beach it was, all white sand and glittering water. Palm trees and grasses blowing in the salt air. Not that I could really appreciate it, being cursed and what have you, but it was a joy of a kind after all that dreary time under water. I thought perhaps it was the same spit where they left you. And I searched it all over, scared I'd find yer carcass, but needing to know, you understand.

Jack smiled and lifted his hand again to stroke the side of Bootstrap's face. How dare Barbossa cause such agony for his lover? If he could have he would have killed the mutinous scallywag again, right then and there.

"Some rumrunners showed up a while later, but it was a moonlit night. They got one look at me and hightailed it back to sea. I don't think they ever went back to that island again."

Jack laughed. Things were starting to make sense, which always unnerved him a little.

"So after a while I left too. I just walked. Down to the bottom and along until it rose again and I came up on another beach."

Wandering from island to island, staying in one place until someone discovered the curse, fleeing angry mobs and the like, it was a sad tale. But with a happy ending. How could it not be happy when Bootstrap was here, in the flesh and unquestionably uncursed before him? Jack slung his arm around Bootstrap's shoulder, and felt his body flush with heat at the sensation of being so close after so long.

‘It was a bleak existence, but what could I do? I had to keep going."

Bleak. Aye, bleak for Jack too. He's missed his lover horribly over the years. Took ages for him to even accept Bootstrap was gone. Dreamed of him every night, called out his name every time he stroked himself to orgasm, imagined him every time he felt alone or amorous. And then, that day in the blacksmith's shop, the day when the world turned upside down; Jack drew in a pained breath when he thought of it.

" I heard tales, tales of the Pearl, tales of shipwrecks and devastated towns. I know they attacked that ship to get the medallion from my son."

Jack felt a rush of guilt. His son.

"Poor lad, he didn't deserve that. I had hopes he's find me, but the Pearl wasn't leaving any survivors in those dark days. I knew better than to expect he'd survive."

Jack fingered his moustache and pondered the point. To tell or not to tell.

"Then on day I was walking underwater, nearing a beach or port of some kind, it was getting shallower all the time. It was nighttime, and there was a full moon. I was worried about surfacing where someone could see me. Then all a sudden me lungs were full of water! I was choking and sputtering and it burned, it burned like the fires of hell in my chest. The curse must have been broken at that moment, and I swam with every bit of will I had, swam up to the surface."

Jack stared down at his boots, horrified. What had he been thinking when he broke that damned curse? He could have killed Bootstrap!

"And I floundered to shore, somehow. I don't really remember. But it was moonlit, and I was flesh and blood, and I ached so much I knew the curse had to be broken for good."

Jack looked back up at Bootstrap's glorious face. So perfect and handsome in the pale light of the moon. So kissable. He leaned forward, had to taste those lips, had to feel that tongue in his mouth again.

Bootstrap leaned back suddenly, causing Jack to fall flat against his chest. His half-opened shirt gave Jack a close-up view of smooth, tan skin. Jack breathed deep, savouring the delicious scent.

"Hold on there, Jack, let me finish. This is the island I walked to. Someone found me washed up there on the beach and took me home. And I've been here nigh on two years. I'm fully alive and human now, I feel everything again, Jack, everything except for the call of the sea. Guess I pretty well had my fill of it, all those years walking on the bottom of it."

Jack turned his head to the side and nodded so his cheek rubbed against the exposed skin of Bootstrap's chest. He considered sticking his tongue out for a quick taste, and had decided it was a wise course of action, when he found himself being pushed to an upright position. The loss of Bootstrap's skin against his cheek stung as if he'd been slapped.

"I was saved on the beach, by a woman. She took me home and nursed me back to health. She took me in and cared for me. I was sure you were gone, and I had to make a new life for meself. So I'm no pirate anymore. I live here now, Jack. With her."

Jack looked up into the eyes of the most beautiful man he'd ever met. Well, maybe the second most beautiful man he'd ever met. He didn't know who was more beautiful, father or son. They were so much alike. In so many ways. And so different as well. And here Bootstrap was, living on this island.

With her.

What ‘her'? Who was ‘her'? How could there possibly be a ‘her'? He reached for Bootstrap's shoulders, pulling him close, eye to eye. Her?

Bootstrap smiled sheepishly. "No one was more surprised than me, I can tell you that for free. But just wait until you meet her, you'll understand. She's really wonderful."

Meet. Her? Preposterous!

"Come on, Jack, we'll go to my place and you can see for yerself. It know it's a bit of a shock, but it's been a dozen years, like. I am sorry, but it's not like I betrayed you. I mean, we were both dead, like. Savvy?"

Jack nodded. Head spinning.

He'd lost the love of his life, sunk at the bottom of the ocean. He'd met the man's son, the most incredible, gorgeous creature on earth. And lost him. Then he'd found his lover again, miraculously. But he didn't want to reunite with Jack and travel the seas and share glorious days of adventure and nights of passionate sweaty sex in the captain's cabin of the fastest and finest ship on the ocean. He wanted to live in this sleazy little nowhere town with his wife.

His wife, for God's sake.

Damn.

---

Chapter 14 - Decadence

Will Turner plunged the glowing red metal rod into a bucket of water. As the heated bar hit the liquid his face was enveloped in thick steam. It stung his eyes and seared his cheeks, but he took something akin to pleasure from the discomfort.

He pulled the rod back out of the bucket and examined it. Worthless. His work was off tonight. He would have to take a break.

Twelve hours of toil wasn't enough in one day. He pushed and pushed until this happened, until he wasn't able to produce the kind of quality he was so well known for. Only then would he stop working. And then he was unhappy again.

When he wasn't working he was thinking. And when he was thinking, he was thinking of things that could only lead to trouble.

Things like Jack.

What had possessed him? It was insane. There was no explanation for his sordid and improper behaviour. It truly was as if the pirate had infected him with some sort of lust.

Now he was impure and the only thing that could scour away the filth was long hours of hard labour, the straining of his muscles and sweat pouring off his body the only things that could make him feel clean again.

But he was losing the battle tonight. Tonight he could feel the lust rising up in him and he simply gave in. He retreated to his little room off the shop and locked the door behind him.

That was the first thing he did when he returned from his adventures at sea. He installed a solid lock on the door to his chamber. Privacy was suddenly of the highest import.

Now he shrugged off his vest and shirt, kicked off his shoes and lay down on the narrow bed, sighing. On nights like this the only thing he could do was concede.

He closed his eyes and ran his rough fingers over his smooth chest. Not as good as Jack's mouth. But his nipples hardened and his groin flooded with heat. He plucked at his nipples lightly, bringing them to sharp, almost painful points. Then he licked his fingers greedily and spread the wetness around the stiff little nubs.

He paid no attention to the purring little moan he made. It no longer bothered him.

He slid his hands down his ribcage, across his flat stomach, swirling one finger around his navel. He had dreams, sometimes, dreams of Captain Jack Sparrow licking around the dark little indentation, flicking his tongue around the hole, fucking his navel with his mouth. Lips closing around the hollow, wet and hot, and sucking gently.

The other hand crept further down, toying with the dark soft hair of his belly, unfastening his pants and yanking them down.

His hand was dry and rough. Would anything ever feel as good as Jack's mouth on his hard length, suckling him like a hungry babe? Never. But he had to cope.

He grunted and tightened his fist, bucking his hips up to shove his cock harder into his fist. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, trying to imagine a gentle palm cupping his testicles. Fingers teasing the sacs, tenderly kneading them, coaxing them to tighten and making them ache. Such a delicious ache of pressure and heat building, growing, threatening to eclipse every other sensation.

He placed the tip of his index finger in his mouth and sucked at it, worrying it with his teeth. He could never duplicate the thrill of Jack sucking his fingers. It was such a shock, such an unexpected pleasure. It made his cock unbearably hard then, as it did now when he remembered the pirate holding and kissing his hands to soothe him.

The sensation of the pirate's tongue flattened against his palm, licking across it and up one finger, woke him up in the middle of the night sometimes.

Will changed his grip on his member, softening it, lightening it. He swirled his thumb around the bulbous head, collecting the seeping fluid. He could smell his own musk in the air, and tried to recall the scent of his one-time lover. The pirate had smelled of the sea, fresh and bracing, and tasted the same. With a hint of sweet rum ever-present and an undercurrent of something Will couldn't quite place, but he suspected it was rather like an almost overripe mango might taste like, if it were eaten midmorning, moments after having woken up, while lying on a warm Caribbean beach.

Jack tasted like decadence.

After being completely overwhelmed by having his fingers thoroughly sucked, Will had eagerly succumbed to the pirate's ministrations. Talented, all-knowing hands had stirred something in him he never knew existed. And when he finally reached that unexpectedly strong release he was overcome.

His groping and scrabbling for the other man's cock had been crude and ill practiced, to say the least. But he had to give back something of the same pleasure he'd been granted. It was imperative. And natural, like breathing, or closing your eyes when someone sucks your tongue into their mouth.

And what a cock it was. He loved the feel of it in his hand. Not too much longer than his but thicker, especially in the middle. Where his own cock had a slim shaft and wide, round head, Jack's had been more the same width all the way up. Or down, depending on how you held it. The crown was just slightly flared, and he'd loved the feel of the foreskin gliding over the head. The hiss Jack made when he flicked his thumb over it. The sigh when he twisted his wrist just so.

Will raised his hand to his mouth and sucked the gleaming drop from his thumb. Bitter, more bitter than Jack had tasted. He wondered what Jack had thought of his taste, when he'd licked Will's seed from his own hand. The look on his face was blissful. Will wanted that look on his own face.

When he raised his hand to lick Jack's release from it, the pirate's eyes had darkened with something beyond desire, beyond lust. It would have frightened him if he hadn't already been so overwrought at the time.

He slicked his palm and fingers all over with saliva and brought the hand back to his achingly hard length. He licked his lips, pretending to be licking the salty, musky taste of his lover's cream from them.

He knew now what Jack wanted to do. And in his waking, working, respectable, proper daytime temper he was disgusted by it. But now, as he lay almost naked on his bed in the dark, with one hand on his cock and the other reaching down to stroke the downy hair on his balls - now he dreamed of it. He dreamed of putting his lips around Jack's swollen member and sucking on it until the pirate erupted in his mouth.

He moaned loudly as he felt his release surging up through his fist, spilling out onto his clenched fingers.

Then he lay still in the dark with his fist held close to his face, lapping at the bitter taste, colder and less appealing to him than Jack's had been, until his hand was licked clean and his cock lay soft and temporarily sated against his belly.

Lonely. Crushingly lonely is how he felt. He didn't think he would ever feel really and truly satisfied again. Not until he could feel and taste his lover again.

But the pirate was gone. And Will could only blame himself. He chose Elizabeth. In his repulsion and disgust with himself, he'd made it clear to Jack that he never wanted to see him again. But he only felt that way for a short while.

Once the shock of his actions wore off he panicked. He couldn't let them hang Jack, he would never forgive himself. He knew what he felt for the rogue was more than just lust, even if he couldn't admit it to himself. Watching Jack swim away, toward the Black Pearl, out of the corner of his eye while he was kissing Elizabeth, Will felt a cold, dark void form deep inside his heart.

And nothing could ever fill it up. Not while Jack was gone.

---

Chapter 15 - Brilliant Match

The woman who walked into Bootstrap's front parlour (front parlour – this was getting to be too much to take in. Bootstrap had a parlour!) was tall, quite striking and disturbingly familiar looking. She stood with her hands on her hips, eying Captain Jack Sparrow with not a small amount of suspicion.

"And what have we here? I could smell the rum from the front door."

Oh, so she was like that. What had poor Bootstrap got himself into? Not that she wasn't a good-looking woman. Thick, glossy hair, smooth brown skin, bright intelligent eyes and a lush mouth. Quite lovely and feisty, if you were into that sort of thing. He could see why Bootstrap was attracted to her. Quite striking, indeed. But the way her fists were clenched on either side of her waist made him fear that ‘quite striking' might be a bit too apt of a description.

And who the hell was she to complain about Bootstrap having a little rum with a friend. What kind of a proper wife came home in the middle of the night?

"Oh, there you are, Tessie. I was wondering where you got off to. This is my wife, Tessie. And this here's me old friend Capt…uh, ah, Jack."

Jack's eyebrow shot up to his hairline. Not a Captain, eh? What was that about?

Tessie's black eyes narrowed. "Captain Jack Sparrow! Oh my goodness, Bill, what you bring a ruffian like this into our home for?"

Jack was offended. How did she know who he was? And why did she look so damned familiar?

Charm. That was what he needed. To be charming. "My lady, I must protest, I have done nothing to warrant this response."

"Not'ing, my foot, I heard all about you from me daughter. You stole her boat, and you never did give it back."

Daughter? "I did no such thing, I assure you." Jack began to think he might be in trouble.

"He did no such thing." Bootstrap leaping to his defence, just like the old days. That was more like it.

"Oh yes, he did. I just had a late dinner wit' Anamaria in town and she told me all about him. She's been sailing wit' the man for nigh on two year, and he never return her boat to her. And you sit here wit' him like he your old friend."

"Well, he is my old friend, we sailed together for some time." Bootstrap's eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. "But that was long ago, and I had no idea about him stealing Anamaria's boat."

"I didn't steal it, I merely borrowed it without…" Jack sputtered, trying to salvage something out of the situation.

"Shut up, Jack." They yelled in unison.

So that was it then. The old Bootstrap was gone. Subsumed by his new wife, eh. What a tragedy.

Just when he thought his situation could get no worse, Anamaria appeared in the doorway.

"Hello, Jack. Imagine this, meeting you here, of all places." She was grinning at him. Evil wench. She'd last set eyes on him not six hours before, when they set anchor in the harbour of this highly specious town.

"Yes, your captain, Anamaria. Seems like there be no end of coincidence in the world sometime. Don't know why you want to be off gallivanting on a pirate ship wit' the likes of him, though. When I was your age, I was learning a real trade, and having babies. Pirate ship no place for a lady."

Anamaria's eyes swept over Bootstrap and her jaw dropped. Wide.

"This me husband I told you about, dearie. Bill, here's me daughter."

Anamaria snapped her mouth closed with a smirk. Evil smirk, Jack thought.

"That would be Bill Turner, I presume? You look mighty familiar to me, Mr. Turner." She turned to face Jack fully. "Doesn't he, Captain Sparrow?"

‘Think, Jack, think.' Jack fingered his moustache and frowned.

But Tessie saved him by sweeping Anamaria out of the parlour and into a large room at the back. "You see dearie, business is very good these days. Look at all the space I need for me girls to work."

Jack's head whipped around to get a peek at the back room and Bootstrap laughed.

"Not what you think, mate. I know what you'd expect in a town like this, but Tessie has a legitimate business. Sewing."

"Sewing?" The very notion confused Jack.

"Yeah, and the like. This is a free island, Jack. No one owns anyone here, and people come here so they can make their way, free like. Sure, lots of them turn to piracy and less reputable businesses, but there's thriving trade too. And there's these girls, women really, with real talent."

Jack saw that the room contained several spinning wheels, tables piled high with bolts of fabric, skeins of wool, rolls of spun cotton. A loom with a half-woven cloth sat in one corner.

"They make all kinds of fancy clothes," Bootstrap went on. "Tessie makes the finest lace in the Caribbean, and she's known for it too. She does work for all the fancy folk. Like that Governor's daughter over in Port Royal. They sent an envoy all the way here to order the lace for her wedding gown, would you imagine that? Must be two days journey."

Bootstrap shook his head in wonder and Jack just shook. He was well aware it was two days journey. He was painfully aware of just how far away he was from Will at any given moment.

And the Governor's daughter. Married. He reached for the last of the rum.

"A fine commission that was," Tessie said proudly as she came back into the parlour with Anamaria in tow. "Twelve yards of ivory lace! Not to mention the silk they imported. They took me all the way to Port Royal for the fitting, too. What a lovely looking girl, really. And what a handsome couple they were."

Jack wished someone would open a foot long gash in his chest and rub a mixture of rock salt and freshly squeezed lemon juice into it. It would hurt less. This woman had no idea the pain she was inflicting.

Tessie sat on the divan next to Bootstrap. "I even made the lace for the Commodore's cuffs."

Commodore.

Commodore??

"Oh mum, what are you saying? I heard all about that girl." Anamaria gave Jack a pointed look. "Last I heard she was engaged to a blacksmith."

Tessie laughed. A deep, hearty guffaw. "Oh no, that one was no blacksmith. It was a Commodore, sure as day. Commodore Norrington. Nice looking lad, a bit stuffy, but she was a bit uptight too, so I suppose it's a good match."

Good match? Great match. Brilliant match! Jack found the ten-ton weight lifting off his chest, thoughts tumbling into place.

Will didn't marry Elizabeth.

Port Royal was two days away.

He grabbed Anamaria by the arm on his way out the door.

"Now wait a minute there, you ruffian. I ain't seen me daughter in three years. She come to visit me, and she's not leaving yet!"

Right. It was Anamaria who suggested they make the detour to this place. Ordinarily he would never have come here. Oh, it had a seedy enough reputation but it wasn't nearly as lively as Tortuga. And without any navy presence at all, trade was small-time, or in things like lace and bloody wedding gowns. There wasn't enough plunder to make it worth the trouble.

Not that he was sorry he made the trip. Bootstrap was alive and well, even if he was married.

And his son was not married.

"My apologies, my lady, but I can't very well sail without my best sailor, can I?"

Bootstrap stood up automatically.

"Not you, Bill!" Tessie smacked her husband hard on the shoulder.

Bootstrap looked back and forth frantically.

Jack Sparrow. Captain Jack Sparrow. His captain. Looking a bit ragged but still handsome and alluring as ever. He could practically taste him. He still thought about his old lover now and then, usually about his old lover in a tempting position. Preferably on his back, naked, lean and hard. Waiting for Bootstrap to get the rest of his clothes off so he could join him.

Tessie. His Tessie. This gorgeous woman who had pulled him from the ocean, taken him into her home and nursed him back to health. Who loved him dearly, and gave him the kind of stability and safety he'd never had before. And he loved her too. Sure, she was demanding at times. A bit harsh when he had too much to drink. But it was for his own good. And she really had a spectacular body, especially considering the fact that she was a mother of five.

And those children had given her the body Bootstrap loved. Warm and soft and curvy the way real women should be. Tessie never wore a corset, no matter how many dresses she made to put over other women's corsets. She was proud of who she was, she didn't need to hide.

He loved that about her. In fact, he loved everything about her. He even loved the way she loved her children, every one of them. Even if one was a pirate. And another was a preacher. She didn't care.

Although she might care about Bootstrap having been a pirate. He hadn't exactly been forthcoming about that.

"I'm beginning to see some t'ings I don't like about your past, Bill." Tessie had her hands balled up into fists again.

So maybe he was something of a kept man. But he was being kept by a fine woman, and there was no shame in that, after all he'd suffered.

Bootstrap sat back down again. "That was a long time ago, Tess. I'm not going to sea again, I'm staying right here with you."

Jack's smile had a tinge of sadness about it. For a second or two. "Great to see you, William. I'll be back again soon, I promise."

‘And I'll figure out how to tell you about me and your son some other time,' he added silently.

In the meantime, there was a two-day voyage to be made.

*****

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