Parts 21-25

Posted: September 2003
Author: Haleth

~~~~~~

Chapter 21 - Stranded

Captain Jack Sparrow was jammed into a barrel bobbing and rolling in the waves. He felt a mild nausea for a few seconds, then sheer irritation.

Who's brilliant idea was this? Charlotte. Bloody Charlotte. Charlotte the Harlot. She and Anamaria were probably already sitting in his quarters, drinking his rum and performing unspeakable acts in his bed. He hoped not. He hoped they were doing whatever was necessary to outrun the Interceptor II. They could perform all the unspeakable acts they wanted once they'd done that.

So far he had stayed relatively upright, but the thought of water pouring in through the air holes kept Jack tense. He heard some shouting from the Black Pearl. Evidently Anamaria was being responsible and speeding away as soon as possible. Whether he would ever see his ship again was in some doubt, but Will was somewhere close by and they were likely not going to end up in the hands of Norrington, so all was not doom and gloom.

Jack would end up in the hands of Will Turner, and that made the discomfort a little more bearable.

He couldn't tell how long he drifted, praying not to overshoot the island.

* * *

Commodore Norrington felt very pleased with himself as approached the Black Pearl. Soon he would have both The Notorious Captain Jack Sparrow and that impudent blacksmith Turner in his prison.

The Pearl had signalled them a few minutes before. They were willing to talk, but they had to keep their distance. The two ships now floated a fair distance apart, not close enough to attack but well in sight of each other. Norrington had himself rowed out to meet a delegation from the pirate ship.

He wanted to simply take the ship, but he wanted Sparrow alive even more. The fiendish pirate would not escape the hangman by choosing a glorious death in battle.

And he wanted the chance to truly humiliate Will Turner. He had no idea what had caused such a sudden change of plan on Elizabeth's part, but he knew the boy had hurt her greatly. Not that he wasn't pleased with the turn of events. His marriage to the Governor's daughter was everything he could possibly hope for. Except that he had not been able to properly chastise Turner for causing its delay.

* * *

The gentle bobbing was interrupted by a rather sharp impact. The barrel was breaking against a rock. Jack rammed the handle of his sword up against the lid. The loosely nailed cover creaked open on one side and Jack pushed it all the way off, just in time for the barrel to be thrown against an unnecessarily sharp rock.

Pain radiated from Jack's smashed shoulder as he wormed his way out of the tight barrel, up onto the rock. He'd landed close enough to the island, only 50 yards or so from a rocky shore, but he had drifted somewhat past the beach. He picked his way over jagged rocks, wading or swimming the odd few yards between outcroppings, until he reached a narrow strip of pebbled land at the foot of a twenty-foot drop. The beach was to his left, more rocks to the right. He scanned in both directions, trying to figure out where Will was most likely to be.

Along the rocks he saw a broken crate with some canvas and rope spilling out, threatening to be washed to sea. By the beach he could see a couple of barrels on shore, and a few more items making their way to the sand. He looked back at the rapidly disintegrating crate.

What he really wanted to do was find Will immediately. But he knew his practical young lover would be furious if he allowed these very useful items to float back out to sea. He dragged the heavy canvas up onto the land and secured it under a few rocks. It was unlikely to get away now.

Next he made his way along the narrow strip to the beach. Sharp edges of rock caught on his torn shirt, ripping at his injured shoulder and threatening to push him back into the ocean. He wondered if this was all part of Charlotte's brilliant plan. The sun was setting by the time he staggered onto the beach. In the dim light he could make out a half dozen barrels but no Will.

* * *

The boat approaching was rowed by a grizzled old man with a parrot on his shoulder and contained not one, but two women. One faced away from Norrington, but something about her voluminous red hair seemed familiar. The other faced him, with a look of fierce determination on her handsome face. This was a ruthless killer, he could see it in the set of her shoulders and the way her hand rested on the hilt of her sword. He would not want to meet her in battle.

Still, they were a pathetic lot of pirates. Their ship was a disgrace. He even thought he'd seen them throwing ballast off the black Pearl to lighten their load. A waste of good merchandise. He would have easily caught up to them, regardless.

"Stay alert, Gillette," He warned. There was some trickery afoot, but he was bound to honour the temporary truce.

"You have no reason to be bothering us, so just turn around and go home, Commodore," the woman shouted as they drew near. "We're a peaceful cargo vessel."

Norrington laughed. "There's nothing peaceful about Captain Jack Sparrow, and the only cargo you haul is the stolen property of others. I see no reason to carry this truce any further, it is farcical enough without your lies. Give me Captain Sparrow and maybe I'll let you go in peace."

Anamaria laughed now. "Let us go in peace, and we won't have to test your new ship by sinking it to the bottom of the ocean."

"Not without Sparrow!"

"I don't have him, so neither can you. He left our ship a day out of Port Royal, bound for Tortuga."

Norrington scoffed. "You expect me to believe your captain just left his ship in your command?"

Anamaria shrugged. "I don't care what you believe. He's not on my ship. And it is my ship now, so I would advise you to let us go."

Charlotte turned around in the boat to get a better look at the argument. "Norrie?"

"Charlotte?"

"Norrie? Oh my goodness, what the devil are you doing out here? Don't you look nice in your Commodore's hat and that uniform! Why, I haven't seen you in ages, since the night before your wedding it was. Guess the wife is working out well then, eh?" Charlotte smiled sweetly, and Anamaria couldn't help noticing how her girlfriend pushed out her breasts a little and batted her eyes at the Commodore.

Anamaria growled. Her girlfriend was good, a little too good.

Norrington blanched. "I, um, I swear to you, Gillette, I have no idea who this, this strumpet is!"

Gillette made a face halfway between distaste and jealousy. "Well, I believe sir, her name is Charlotte. At least, that's what you said."

Anamaria wasn't sure if Norrington would try to blow Charlotte, the rowboat and the Black Pearl out of the water in an attempt to erase all evidence. Or he might be more inclined to let the Pearl go to avoid further embarrassment.

As it turned out, Charlotte was quite a skilled negotiator, and was able to convince the Commodore that Jack and Will had indeed abandoned ship in favour of a vessel headed for Tortuga, that the Black Pearl was now a legitimate trading vessel under the command of Anamaria, and probably could have convinced him that the sun was shining brightly when in fact it was dusk if not for Gillette, who interrupted his commander while Charlotte was describing in great detail the size and shape of the sails of the ship Jack and Will had rowed out to.

"Sir, there's a storm coming. If we're to make it back to our boat dry I suggest we leave now. They already have a two-day head start for Tortuga." Gillette obviously wanted to be as far away from the women as possible.

Charlotte winked at Gillette and wriggled so her prominent breasts rose a tad higher out of her tight bodice. Rewarding him for being such a good audience.

Anamaria growled again. She was torn between being thankful for Charlotte's quick tongue and enraged at her generous body.

Never mind. Once the Interceptor II sailed off for Tortuga, she would take her girlfriend into the captain's quarters and teach her something about proper behaviour. And qluick tongues.

* * *

Jack strode to the first barrel and pried the lid off with the edge of his sword. A selection of slightly soggy hardtack, dried meat and other foods, wrapped in bits of cheesecloth and rags, sprang out. He would be eating, even if the crew on the Black Pearl weren't. But that wasn't what he was looking for.

The next barrel had contained rum at one time but was, sadly, now empty.

A crate of women's clothing. There were some interesting possibilities, it was true, but again, not what he was looking for.

Jack was by this time running from barrel to barrel, ripping the boards apart in a desperate search for Will. He sprinted 50 yards across the sand to a broken shell, the last barrel he could see. Empty again, the staves broken and splintered from the impact with rocks off shore.

He had now searched the beach twice and was beginning to despair.

He scanned the water for other debris, but the light from the moon wasn't enough to see far by. The dark shapes of the barrels he'd already ripped apart lay abandoned around him on the white sand.

The thought ripped through his mind that the barrel containing Will had drifted too far from the shore and was out there, on the now almost black sea. The further thought, even more grotesque, had a barrel stuffed with Will sinking to the bottom of the…

"Will!" he shouted. "Answer me!"

He heard only the crash of the waves on the beach.

---

Chapter 22 - Still Stranded

Captain Jack Sparrow sat on the cool grey sand in the almost dark and stared blindly at the dark sea. Up and down the beach another, the third time, and the barrel containing Will was still missing. It was worse than tragedy.

If he ever got his hands on that Charlotte, her pretty little neck would be wrung until Anamaria shot him and put him out of his misery.

He had food. He had shelter. There was an almost full barrel of fresh water. He'd even run across a small cask of rum. All the essentials of life. But he wanted none of it. Because the one thing he really needed to live was missing.

He closed his eyes and pictured Will as he's last seen him in the captain's cabin on The Black Pearl.

The boy had looked so vulnerable. He'd accepted Jack's apology, claimed he understood how Jack could neglect to tell Will about his father's miraculous survival. The anger had melted away before Jack's eyes, a bloody miracle. He even looked as though he might be willing to let Jack start anew with him. And then, with only the top part of his head visible, he blurted out that last confession.

Will had desired Jack all along.

And now it was too late. He hadn't even had the chance to give Will a kiss goodbye.

Jack threw himself back on the sand and stared up at the almost starless sky. "So bleak," he said aloud. "So very dismal-like without you, Will."

His injured shoulder smarted when it hit the beach. Jack could feel bits of sand working their way into the wound there. Itching, scraping, opening the jagged gash wider. He cared not. What did the injury to his shoulder matter when Will was lost?

And what if that damned Commodore Bloody Norrington hadn't appeared just then? Will would have made his confession. He would have stood before Jack in his cabin, one hand fiddling with the ragged cuff of his shirt, head down looking sheepish. He would have confessed. "I called out your name, instead of hers. I called for you, Jack, because you're the only one I really want."

Jack couldn't help a small smile at the thought. He would have stepped forward, taken the lad in his arms, gently. This wouldn't be about sex. It would be about something more, leading, of course, to sex. He would hold Will tenderly, Rub his hands soothingly over Will's back until his trembling ceased, kiss him lightly on the forehead and tell him to fret no longer, They were together now, forever.

No, that was too simple, too bland.

He would take Will in his arms, capture his lips in a deep, long kiss. He would explore that soft, dark cavern until Will was whimpering, no, purring in his arms. Then he would lead that lithe, strong body to the bed and lay him down ever so urgently. He'd rip the shirt right down the front. He could afford to buy Will a dozen much nicer shirts, soft silk to caress his lovely olive skin. And once Will's hard, heaving chest was exposed Jack would attack it vigorously with his mouth, sucking and biting on luscious peaked nipples. Will would writhe under him like a cat, thrusting upwards begging for more.

Jack would kiss him again, ravaging his mouth, whilst removing the rest of Will's clothing and his own. The first time they would be fully naked with each other. Jack would pull Will against him, skin to skin, wrap his arms and legs around him, nipples and bellies and cocks rubbing against each other, making them moan in unison. Jack would reach between their bodies, a tight fit, and wrap his fingers around both their erections, and set a steady, devastating pace that would make Will cry out in delight. And they would come together, their mingled seeds splashing against their stomachs in a warm splash of release.

Not bloody likely. The lad wasn't about to go hopping into bed with him that fast, was he?

More probable, he would react from the heart. He would, indeed, take the boy in his arms. That was a given. And he would kiss him, on the mouth, but not an aggressive, ravishing kiss. He would kiss him softly, slowly, and with great emotion. And he would profess his frighteningly strong feelings to the boy.

"Will, I know this might be hard for you to believe. I know you have a dreadful low opinion of pirates, but this pirate has another confession to make. I love you, Will, like I've never loved another in my life."

But he wouldn't, would he? Because they weren't in his cabin. And only Jack was on this desolate island. And there was no way of knowing where Will was.

And Jack felt something, he wasn't sure what it was, something on his cheek. Then he realised it was a tear. And he'd not cried in such a very long time it was a shock to him.

He closed his eyes again, trying to stop the tears, to block their way. But they leaked out anyway. The salty tears wended their way down to the corner of his mouth, and when he flicked his tongue out to catch one, the bitter taste was too much to take.

He was dead, or as close to it as you could get without your heart stopping. He couldn't feel his heart. Because his heart was broken.

He retreated into his fantasy world, where fantasy-Will looks him in the eye and gives him one of those shy, naïve, and utterly irresistible smiles. Jack waits for him to speak, waits for him to answer, "Jack, I feel the same way."

That's what he longed to hear. But Will doesn't speak. He just looks at Jack, with moist, chocolaty brown eyes. He makes a faint sound, as if from far away. A low sigh as if carried on the wind.

Jack sat up, suddenly. He didn't imagine that. He scrunched his eyes closed tight as if that will make him hear better.

There it was again.

A faint moan, seeming to come from further inland. Jack got up and ran in the direction of the sound, frightened of what he might find, yet desperate to find it. He stumbled over a collection of splintered barrel staves and stubbed his toe painfully on the hilt of a sword. Just a bit further, he could barely see a faint track in the sand, the light was so poor now.

He pushed aside some undergrowth and there, behind a boulder, on his stomach, lay Will Turner.

Jack dropped to his knees and gently rolled Will over onto his back. He winced at the groan Will emitted, could feel a wet wound on Will's temple, but even though the boy was shivering slightly in the night breeze, his body was still warm.

"Will, it's Jack. Can you hear me?" Jack kept his voice down. There wasn't anyone to disturb, he just didn't want to alarm Will.

Will groaned again. "Jack? Where am I?" He reached up blindly and grasped Jack's shoulder.

Jack gasped in pain as Will's fingers ground the sand painfully into his shoulder wound. Will snatched his hand back and tried to sit up. He failed miserably, tumbling back to the ground in a dizzy heap.

"I'm sorry," he stuttered, "I was, I didn't know."

Jack welcomed the pain. He was alive again, it didn't matter how much it hurt.

"Not a problem, mate, don't worry about me. It's you I'm worried for. Let me see that wound on yer head." He slid his good arm under Will's shoulders, splaying his fingers out under his shoulder. Broad, thick shoulder. Hmmm. He gently probed the cut on Will's temple. "Not so bad. We'll clean it up and you'll be right as rain."

Jack wriggled around so his knees were under Will, supporting his weight. He encircled the prone man with both arms and laid a soft kiss on his forehead. "It's okay now, Will. We're together."

Will sighed. "I was so frightened Jack. I hit the beach and the barrel just splintered. I rode on a wave and crashed onto the shore. It happened so fast. I thought you broke up on the rocks. I suppose I crawled up here for shelter." Will turned his head and pressed his forehead against Jack's chest. "I was so scared you were dead."

Jack stroked his hair, marvelling at the silkiness of it. He breathed deep, salt air, the scent of the palms and underbrush, and the delightful nutmeg and vanilla of Will Turner.

"I drifted further along the shore before I hit rock. You must have been up here before I came ashore. All that worry for nothing, eh? You forgot the most important thing."

Will squinted up at him through the gloom. "What's that?"

Jack grinned, bursting with joy. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow!"

Will gave a small laugh, wincing a little at the pain it produced in his head. "How could I forget?" he murmured. "How silly of me."

Jack kissed him again, this time on the mouth. He didn't want to push too far, and was concentrating on being a perfect gentleman, but Will's tongue pressed insistently against his lips, so he felt it was only polite to part them and allow the boy entrance.

Will's tongue swirled around Jack's mouth, filling him with yet more desire. Jack let his hand wander down the side of Will's face, his long neck and torso, coming to rest on the slight curve of his waist. They stayed like that for a long time, drinking in each other.

When they finally parted, Will was more than a bit breathless. Jack couldn't remember what breathing was.

"I wish I could see you better."

Jack inhaled sharply when he heard this, suddenly finding the power to breathe again. He wished he could see Will too. He could imagine how he looked, clothes torn to reveal tantalizing bits of smooth skin, hair a mass of saltwater soaked curls, eyes wide with relief and what was that? God, he hoped it was lust. "In the mornin', lad. In the meantime, you need some shuteye, as tempting as the thought of kissing you all night might be. You need some rest after that bump. I'll go get us some clean fresh water so we can wash these wounds of ours ‘fore we sleep."

Jack moved to get up but found Will's hand gripping his sleeve.

"You won't leave me, will you, Jack?"

Jack smiled. "Never, Will. Never."

---

Chapter 23 - Day One

Captain Jack Sparrow woke with a splitting headache, the result of the hot morning sun shining directly on his head as he slept. He hazily recalled a storm in the night, and huddling underneath one of the ladies' gowns from the trunk on the beach. It was amazing how much material was in one of those dresses once you let out all the gathers and pleats.

He realized that a sleeping Will Turner lay with his head on Jack's right shoulder, and that warm puffs of air issuing from Will's mouth tickled his neck. Will's top arm was flung over Jack's stomach, and that hand curved around his waist snugly. His leg rested on top of Jack's as well. Interesting.

Jack's left shoulder throbbed and he realized that his left arm was bound to the side of his torso by the same cloth that held a wad of bandage against his torn shoulder. The cloth was white, quite fine of weave. Thinner than canvas, fairly clean, frayed at the ripped edges. Ah yes, now he remembered. Will had torn his shirt into strips to use as bandages, and thus was lying naked from the waist up. Very interesting.

The more Jack realized, the better things got.

With the fingers on his right hand he could stroke Will's lower back, which he did to the best of his ability. He bent his left elbow and attempted to do likewise to Will's chest, but the damnable bandage wouldn't let him reach. He got his straining fingers within an inch of smooth, soft skin he could feel the heat from.

Blast this bandage. He remembered Will saying his shoulder should be immobilized to prevent the tear from opening any more. Jack was tempted to remind Will he was a blacksmith, not a damn doctor, but the feeling of being tended was, he was forced to admit, enjoyable. Especially when Will kissed the uninjured top of his shoulder tenderly.

He stretched further, causing a great deal of pain to course through his injured shoulder, which made him grunt, thus causing Will to shift in his sleep.

Fortunately, he shifted even closer. He nuzzled his nose against Jack's neck, snuggled into Jack's chest, and brought his elusive right nipple within touching distance. Perfect.

Jack brushed his fingertips over the little rise of brown skin. It pebbled under his touch and grew. Jack's fingers itched terribly. He wanted so much more.

Will made a little sighing noise, of contentment or perhaps satisfaction or maybe that was just the noise he made when he was waking up. Jack didn't care. He just wanted to hear the noise. He stroked the nipple again, and Will's eyelashes flew up, revealing the eyes Jack wanted to drown in.

"'morning, luv. Feeling any better?"

"Hmmm," Will yawned, a charming kittenish yawn that made Jack wish both his arms were free so he could hold this beautiful man in his arms properly. "Much, thank you. I've never," Will looked embarrassed, "Slept with anyone before. I mean, beside someone like that, all night long."

Jack felt privileged. And wanted to be the person Will did so very many things with for the first time. Then he wanted to scream when Will moved away to sit up.

Jack sat up too, and followed Will's gaze to the white sand nearby. The beach was littered with broken crates and barrels, debris strewn about randomly.

"I, uh, I was a tad frantic when I was searching for you last night," Jack admitted. "Gave me quite a scare, you did."

Will nodded. "So I see. I'm sorry to have caused you any bother." He fingered the wound on his temple, already healing over but still tender. He got up, a little unsteadily at first but he found his legs soon enough. "Let's find some breakfast."

* * *

Now where did that boy get to? Jack just went into the underbrush away from the clearing where they'd made their camp for a minute, only long enough to relieve himself, and Will was gone. There, Jack spotted him, along the beach, naked back and arms straining to drag the sodden canvas toward their makeshift camp. Bloody hell, the boy had a head injury and he wasn't going to get any better if he wouldn't sit down and rest.

He was full of nervous energy, making a fire pit, dragging any food and drink and useful items he could find away from the shore to a clearing among the densest palms where there was maximum cover from sun and wind. There was a stack of firewood and the beginnings of a shelter already. It was almost as if the boy was keeping himself busy to avoid Jack.

"Will, Just leave the canvas there on the beach, It's too heavy to drag up all the way… here, I'll help you straighten it out, now it'll dry faster, we can move it when it's dry and not so bloody… Will!"

Will swayed a bit and held one hand to his injured temple. Jack rushed to his side and threw his good arm around Will's waist. "Steady, mate. Just a bit woozy, eh? We'll just get you up here into the shade." He led him into the shaded grove.

Will sat heavily on the spread-out dress, leaning his back against a tree. Sweat beaded on his forehead, trickling across his creased brow. Jack handed him a cup of water. "Little too much rushing around, eh? Have a rest, lad, drink this. Can't have you drying out now." Indeed we couldn't. Needed him nice and moist and supple. "Better?"

Will tilted his head back, exposing his lovely long throat. Jack felt suddenly thirsty.

"How long will we be here?"

"Days, weeks. Who knows? Don't fret, we'll be fine." Jack crept closer to Will, until he was kneeling next to him, facing him, with the sides of their thighs touching, Jack's right hand on Will's right arm. Nicely worked muscles, with all that hauling things. Forearms flexed in a way that made Jack want to lean down and lick from wrist to elbow, to feel those bulging veins under his tongue, to taste Will's sweat. He had not had the chance to do that.

Jack had an abrupt thought. What if Will didn't want to be alone with him? What if he was wrong, what if he'd imagined the whole thing? Was that possible?

Will rolled his head forward lazily and leaned toward Jack with a slight smile playing around his water-moistened lips. Glistening pink lips, with that lovely soft moustache above and that wispy beard below. Jack's tongue had memorized the texture of that silky dark hair, and the taste of Will's tongue, which flicked out teasingly. "All alone?"

Jack gave a little whimper and nodded. He couldn't have imagined that, could he? Please, God, don't let that have been imaginary!

Will smiled more, eyes glinting in the dappled sunlight. "Now that we have our camp made and provisions gathered, I find that prospect most pleasing, Captain Sparrow."

I've died, Jack thought. I've died and gone to heaven. All that rushing around was preparation.

His thoughts were interrupted by a hot, wet tongue thrusting between his lips. Jack had to admit that was the best way he'd ever been distracted from anything in his life.

Jack rose up, swung one leg over Will's so he was sitting on the boy's lean, strong thighs. This he did without interrupting the kiss, a feat of which he felt inordinately proud. Anything that got his tongue into Will Turner's mouth and kept it there was something to be proud of, as far as Jack was concerned.

They separated, panting, and Will rested his head back against the trunk of the tree again, eyes closed, mouth open. The thought occurred that this was the way Jack liked him best, breathless and vulnerable. Until Will opened his eyes again. That was even better.

Jack reached up to stroke Will's cheek lightly. "I have never," he said in a hoarse whisper, "Never enjoyed looking into anyone's eyes as much as I do yours."

Will blushed a little, pink rising on his cheeks delicately. "Jack, I'm not entirely sure what is happening between us." He trailed one finger from the opening of Jack's shirt, up the centre of his chest and let it rest on Jack's Adam's apple.

"Don't fret. Just do what feels good." Jack said gently, one hand on Will's cheek, the other flattened against his chest. Hard nipple in the very centre of his palm. Two inches forward and his fast-hardening cock would be pressed up against Will, but he wouldn't move until Will made known it was welcome.

Will enjoyed the feeling of Jack's voice vibrating under his finger. He found he wanted to explore every inch of this man, in spite of the very proper and terrified voice in his head screaming at him to let things go no further. He wanted to tell Jack how scared he was but he didn't want that to stop the pirate from having his way with him.

He turned his head and pressed his lips against Jack's fingertips.

Jack just stared, unable to move. It had to be some magical spell, anything could break it. An enchantment, that's what it was. He could never be so lucky, could he?

But then, he thought, he *was* Captain Jack Sparrow.

In an instant he and Will were lying on ground, tongues dancing together, hands exploring. Jack was at a loss as to how to support his body weight and keep touching Will when he only had one hand available. Will solved the problem by flipping Jack over on his back. Jack gazed up at Will's hungry eyes while Will gingerly slid the remains of Jack's shirt up over his head.

Will moved over him carefully and settled his weight on his knees on either side of Jack's thighs, lowering his chest to press fully against Jack's, lowering his hips until their erections lined up against each other, a perfect fit. Simultaneous groans.

Will rested his forehead against the other man's. "Jack," he whispered, toying with the two little braids in Jack's beard, "I don't know what to do." Will sat back, pressing his hard cock against Jack's, loving the look and feel of bronzed chest under his hand. He followed the lines of tattoos with his fingertips, traced scars old and new, bent down to take a reddish brown nipple between his lips.

Jack was again unable to respond to that immediately, unless one would call those little mewling sounds he was making a response. It was a good thing he was lying flat on his back or else he would have fallen over for sure.

Strong, gentle hands swept over Jack's chest. He groaned when fingers plucked at his nipples, fingernails raked down his sides, a flat, warm palm soothed his quivering stomach.

"For someone who doesn't know what he's doing, you're succeeding admirably." Jack rested his hand on Will's naked waist, felt the boy shiver. "However, if you require some guidance…" He deftly unfastened Will's trousers, and Will, quick learner that he was, did the same for Jack.

Ah, yes, that was what Jack wanted. Will's hand wrapped around his shaft, his hand similarly on Will, setting a lazy pace. No need to hurry. He explored Will's cock as he might explore an uncharted island, paying attention to every inch of it, slipping his fingers over the engorged head, tugging on the foreskin gently, savouring every moan and purr he wrought. Maybe not so much like exploring an island.

With his head thrown back in the most delightfully wanton way, waves of chestnut hair falling back, Will let out a long growl and tensed. Jack changed the angle of his hand so that when Will spent, he splashed over that deliciously hard stomach. Will's hand tightened on Jack's cock and lost it's rhythm, so Jack put his hand on top to guide it, sending his release in the same direction.

Far too good to be true, yet so deliciously verifiable. As Will fell to one side, and Jack scrambled to move beside him. He attacked Will's stomach like a starving man, lapping up the musky liquid with long, cat-like strokes.

Will did not protest. The feel of Jack's tongue pressed wide and flat on his belly sent additional shivers through his whole body. Jack moaned, drinking in their combined tastes, and Will answered with a satisfied purr. Only when Will's smooth skin was licked completely clean did Jack roll onto his side.

Forgetting the injury to his shoulder.

He howled and rolled back, cursing himself for his carelessness. Will leapt up to help Jack ease the pressure on his shoulder. He knelt to Jack's right side, cradling Jack in his arms.

"Let me take care of you, Jack."

Jack smiled ruefully. "Looks like we've traded places," he said, resting in the crook of Will's arm comfortably. "You know, I think I could become rather fond of this."

---

Chapter 24 – Day Three (Happy)

Jack lay in the shade, exhausted. How many times could he bring the boy to a climax, and how many times could he spend himself into the boy's eager hand, before he would simply waste away? Their provisions, though plentiful enough, were not sufficiently appealing for him to consume enough to give him the energy he needed for this kind of vigorous activity infinitum.

Speaking of activities, Will seemed to be in no hurry to alter them, to move onto something new. Jack thought they might spend eternity on this island with their lips locked and hands on each other's cocks.

Not that that would be such a bad way to spend eternity.

Will was dragging the dry canvas up the beach to fashion a tent for their camp. It looked as if another storm was approaching, and Will wanted them to be properly sheltered from it. He insisted on doing it alone, as he worried Jack might reopen his wound. It was a bit over-protective, since Jack's shoulder was feeling much better, but Jack found the arrangement satisfactory. He needed the rest. And the view was more than agreeable.

Will's trousers hung loose and low, exposing angular hipbones and a sculpted stomach. (Maybe he was already losing weight. Jack would have to make sure he ate well.) The heavy canvas dragged in the sand, making muscles stand out on Will's shoulders and back. His bare feet dug into the sand, and Jack thought about how he would take those lovely feet, for he found every part of the boy lovely, in his hands to brush off every grain, taking special care between the toes. Will's feet, he had found, were quite sensitive.

In fact, Will was sensitive all over. Jack delighted in finding each and every spot that produced a luscious purr – Will's navel, the hollow above his collarbone, the tender spot inside his elbow. Every spot that wasn't covered by those damnable trousers. But so far the boy had resisted all Jack's efforts to remove them.

Jack, if he thought very hard, could understand that such a proper and inexperienced young man might be shy about being totally naked. But, he despaired, they were alone, on an island few people even knew about, and they'd been kissing and licking and fondling each other for some time. Surely he should get over his bashfulness.

He'd also managed to resist, in spite of Jack's repeated efforts, and by shifting his body or distracting him in some other way, to keep his cock out of Jack's mouth. And this was beginning to infuriate the pirate. Much as he enjoyed tasting Will off his hand or Will's hand or, his favourite, off Will's belly, he very much desired to feel and taste him directly.

Jack closed his eyes and remembered Will's cock in his mouth, in the hold of the Interceptor during that storm. Two years before and his mouth still watered at the memory. It was ridiculous to be salivating over a two-year old memory when the real thing was standing right next to him, and all he had to do was open his eyes and…

Sweating, tanned skin gleaming in the setting sun, veins and tendons protruding from the strain of his work, sinful hipbones jutting out above the waist of those cursed pants. Will smiled down at Jack.

And there was a tent behind him.

"Did you have a good sleep then?" Will asked. "I've got some dinner for you."

Jack sat up. What happened to the day? He ate his rations and drank the one mug of rum Will would allow him. Only one. Mustn't grumble though. Knowing how Will disapproved of strong drink he was lucky to get the one.

It was a preposterous restriction, come to think of it. He didn't deserve this deprivation. He stared into the empty cup and pondered. Since when did Captain Jack Sparrow take orders from a boy?

Since the boy lowered his ridiculously long dark lashes and peered up at Jack from under them, tinge of pink colouring his sculpted cheeks, wet lips curled into a shy smile - that's when.

"Jack, are you not happy with me?" Will asked, voice soft, brow worried.

Jack's frown softened. By all means, he wanted more, but they had all the time in the world. The boy was outrageously sweet and innocent. How could he not be happy? He pulled Will toward him and kissed his forehead.

Will tilted his head and caught Jack's lips with his. They tasted each other for a few minutes, twisting tongues in an erotic dance. So very enthralling. Will ran his hands around and up and down Jack's back and the tin cup fell to the ground, forgotten.

Jack suddenly didn't care if all Will ever did with him was kiss him and handle his shaft with those, ah yes, such long fingers, so sensitive, inching into his pants, pulling him out into the open. But Will pushed the trousers down even more, and slid his hand further down to lightly trace around his, ah, so very nice.

Jack allowed himself to be lowered to the ground, weak with desire. Will was extraordinarily gentle with him, placing some bundled cloth under his shoulder to support it. He kissed the edge of the bandage sweetly.

The thought occurred that Will was holding back so Jack wouldn't injure himself further. It was just considerate enough to be true. Jack couldn't think very logically, though, because Will was trailing his tongue down his neck and chest.

Will seemed to love sucking on Jack's nipples. Jack felt no need to complain. Will's tongue circled one rigid nub and his fingers tugged on the other playfully. Jack sighed. He was a plaything. Happily.

The tongue continued down, over tanned skin, along sharp ribs, down to swirl around the hollow of Jack's navel. Jack gasped. Will kept going, down to the sensitive skin of his lower belly, where black hair grew thicker. His cock jerked and nudged Will's chin. Instead of jumping back, as Jack expected and wished he wouldn't, Will inched further down and placed a single, shy kiss on the weeping slit.

"Please," Jack couldn't help moaning.

Will look a first, experimental lick. Jack moaned again. Hot, hot tongue. Cool, fast breaths washing over him. He didn't dare look down. Will wet his lips nervously, the very tip of his tongue grazing the head.

That was an involuntary leap of the penis, Jack would have sworn; he could not have helped that if his life depended on it.

Will licked the salty fluid that had smeared over his upper lip. He loved the taste of Jack and he wanted more. He opened his mouth and slid his lips over the head of Jack's cock, eliciting a low rumble. He would have smiled at the response.

Jack's eyes were screwed shut, teeth gritted, desperate to not buck his hips and choke the boy. The heat of his mouth was volcanic; his inexperienced sucking was more exciting than the most accomplished whore's would have been. Tentative fingers folded around the base, lips dared to move further down the shaft, and Jack tried to think of something, anything, to keep from coming right then.

He thought of hangmen and jail cells and the rum running out and even Elizabeth, but to no avail, because Will did the unthinkable.

With his mouth almost full of Jack's cock, he purred.

Jack failed miserably, and with a strangled shout he erupted on Will's tongue. Will reacted with speed and efficiency, closing his mouth around the convulsing staff and gulping down the salty discharge. Amazing for his first time, Jack thought in a daze. He pulled Will up to kiss him. Will backed away at first, but when he saw the look in Jack's eyes he relented.

Hmm, Jack's new favourite flavour. Himself on Will Turner's tongue. Well, second favourite flavour at least, he was sure. The salty essence made the roof of Jack's mouth sting. He sucked the slippery tongue hard, until Will was rubbing against him in a shameless attempt to gain much-needed friction. Wanton was a good place for Will to be.

He abandoned Will's mouth reluctantly and kissed a path down his body. He tried to kiss, lick or nibble every square inch as he worked his way down, making Will squirm and gasp. And purr. And those trousers were finally going to go. He yanked them down harshly, and Will obliged him by wriggling out of them.

At last.

Jack rubbed his hand over smooth hard flanks and endless slim legs. He kissed down one leg to the knee and ran his tongue straight up the inner thigh. The soft hair on Will's legs tickled his lips. Will spread his legs so Jack could kneel between them.

When Jack finally arrived at Will's cock it was pulsing with need. Just the way Jack wanted it. He swallowed it down in one smooth move, squeezing his throat to massage the head, pursing his lips to caress the base. The sounds Will made would have been enough to make Jack hard again on their own. So musical. So very needy.

While his mouth was thoroughly occupied with swollen cock, he ran his good hand up and down Will's leg, feeling the hard muscle beneath his fingers. So lovely. He moved his hand higher, and behind.

Definitely the most perfect arse on the Spanish Main. On the whole ocean. Jack kneaded the tensed flesh, lifting Will's hips off the ground, greedy for more even though there was no more cock to swallow. He hummed low and loud, sending vibrations through Will's body, making him vibrate all over.

Will's fingers dug into the ground, looking for some way to keep him from flying into the air. His body sang with the building tension. When he gasped the rushing air brought the taste of Jack to him again, like an echo. And that made his taste flood Jack's mouth.

Jack pulled his mouth off Will, sliding back so only the head was in his mouth. He couldn't risk a single drop flowing down his throat without first savouring it on his tongue. He held it in his mouth, like a rare wine, tasting studiously before he at last swallowed.

Definitely. His favourite flavour.

He wriggled out of his pants, kicking them to the side. With any luck, he wouldn't be putting them back on until the Black Pearl returned. And with a little more luck, that wouldn't be for weeks. He didn't even care if the rum ran out. This was more than enough to satisfy any craving for drink.

Jack stretched his body out beside Will's and melded to him. They fit together perfectly, Will's softened cock and Jack's semi-erect one pressing together in a warm nest of glossy brown and black curls.

Jack took a long, shuddering breath. "Now, what was that about me not being happy?"

---

Chapter 25 - Day 6 (Trouble in Paradise)

Captain Jack Sparrow was having trouble conceiving of anything else in the entire world he would rather be watching. In fact, as hard as he tried, he was drawing a complete blank.

This was it, then: the finest view on earth.

Will Turner was running, no frolicking, in the surf. Naked.

Will was laughing, his hair wild and free, his body becoming tanned all over from his time in the sun. Water splashed up around his long, lean thighs and flawlessly rounded arse. And damned if his cock even looked perfect when it was dangling soft and neglected between his legs. Good heavens, could there be anything more stunning?

Two pairs of somewhat bedraggled but clean pants flapped in the wind on a makeshift clothesline, and for the past three days Will and Jack had remained naked all the time, but for the time they spent wrapped together in the lady's skirt during the second rain storm when the wind was cold. As soon as the rain stopped they'd had to wash the dress, as it was rather sticky from all that huddling and rolling around together.

Now it was nearing dusk and Will, after checking the traps he'd set at the far end of the beach, was returning with a clutch of crabs tied to the end of a pole. Jack just hoped he didn't trip. Some of those crabs were still alive, and would do some nasty damage to Will's softer parts if they fell on him. Some of those softer parts were particular favourites of Jack's.

After the first rush of sexual tension passed, with the second one following fast in its wake, the two of them had settled into a comfortable routine. Will did most of the practical work, getting the food, water, gathering firewood and the like, and fussed over Jack's injured shoulder - which didn't hurt as much as Will thought it did, but Jack wasn't about to disavow him of the notion because he enjoyed being fussed over very much - and in between bouts of enthusiastic and highly satisfying groping and oral sex they talked, and Jack told Will all about his father. So now he had nothing to feel guilty about, no secrets, and no surprises.

Except for the fact that, beyond the kissing and fondling and suckling and licking they so enjoyed together there was much Jack wished to teach young Mr. Turner about the sensual arts. He was biding his time for that, though, waiting for the opportune moment, as it were. Perhaps it would come on this very night.

Will knelt down by the fire and tossed the crabs into a pile. The smile on his face made the fire in Jack's belly stir. "We'll eat well tonight, we can roast them over the fire." Will looked down, almost demurely. Then he leaned forward and planted his hands on the warm sand. "But that's for later, isn't it?" With a little growl.

Lord, the whelp was insatiable! And he was crawling across the sand towards Jack with a deliciously debauched look on in his wide brown eyes. Jack licked his lips nervously. One of these times he simply wasn't going to be able to perform. He wondered how much that would disappoint his young lover.

It was a moot question, since the feel of Will's tongue in his mouth, lips on his chest, teeth nibbling on an earlobe or peaked nipple - really Will's mouth anywhere near him - was enough to bring Jack to full hardness almost instantly, if it was what Will desired. And he certainly desired it.

Now that Jack's shoulder was healing, Will allowed a much wider range of activities and positions. Jack hovered over Will at the moment, licking along the ridge of his collarbone, licking up the sweat that clung to his sinuous neck.

Welcome to the Caribbean, Jack thought to himself. Sun, sand and naked writhing Will Turner. He turned his head to watch Will's lovely cock harden and grow, pointing straight up, so young and, dare he think it, virile.

* * *

Will Turner ran through the surf, the wind and salt spray made his skin tingle, the sun warmed him all over. He felt stronger, without clothes to weigh him down, thrilled by how free he felt. A week ago you would have had a hard time convincing him that he would ever enjoy running around naked like this, but it was wonderful.

He looked over to the camp and saw the other reason he felt so wonderful. Jack sat quietly, watching him, grinning. Will could feel the blush spreading across his face.

Will had never really thought about how he looked. Oh, he'd always tried to look proper, with a clean jacket and polished shoes; in spite of the fact that he was only a blacksmith he always tried to look like a gentleman. Here, with no clothes to hide behind, he was utterly exposed, just him and no way to hide. Jack watched him all the time, almost always with a smile on his face. He liked what he saw, and although Will had never considered himself beautiful, he believed it when Jack told him he was.

All wasn't perfect and carefree. The fresh water supply was running dangerously low. And the food wasn't going to last forever either. He was immensely pleased with the crabs he'd been able to trap. He wanted to prove to Jack that he was useful, that he could take care of them.

He didn't know what would happen when the Black Pearl returned to take them back to civilisation. He thought about it, at night, after Jack was asleep. Jack would be captain of his ship again; he wouldn't have time for Will. The thought of being alone again made Will sad, so he made an effort to not think about it. He was determined to enjoy having Jack all to himself for as long as he could. And to enjoy all of Jack as well.

Jack seemed impressed enough with the dinner. Will sat by the fire, looking at his handsome pirate, and felt the hunger growing.

He loved everything about Jack. Even the things he thought he hated at first.

He loved his hair, so wild and inventive. Every decoration, every bead and bauble had a story behind it. Sometimes, by the light of the dying fire, Will would finger a braid and ask. Jack would tell him about some adventure or exploit, usually ending with Will laughing and kissing him.

When Jack first took off his headscarf Will was a little taken aback. Jack tried to be nonchalant about it, but he was watching Will's reaction carefully. Will simply leaned forward and licked the scar tenderly. He didn't ask for the story behind it. He always made sure he kissed it every night before they went to sleep.

Will loved Jack's wiry arms and strong legs, slim torso all sinew and hard, flat planes. Not quite as broad in the shoulders as Will, lean with ridges of bone and cords of muscle. He couldn't get enough of running his hands over all those firm curves and edges.

He loved the black eyes that followed Will wherever he went, appraising and appreciating. He loved the black kohl smudged beneath them. Even now, naked and bronze in the setting sun, Jack's eyes were lined in black. He carried the kohl in a pouch, usually attached to his belt, now hanging alongside the belt from a tree.

Jack's eyes grew even darker as he gazed at Will, and Will looked down. He knew he should be embarrassed. He should be ashamed to be parading around like this. He looked down at his lap, were his cock lay, already beginning to harden under Jack's intent stare. He swore he could feel Jack's eyes on him.

He looked back up into Jack's face, at the curve of his cheekbones, the black moustache much softer than it looked, beautifully shaped lips he knew could be hard and demanding one moment and then as gentle and soft as a feather in the next. He could not help remembering the night before, when Jack pushed him against the tree and slid down his body, liquid grace, and taken Will's cock into his mouth.

The tree was rough against his back, but Jack slid his arm behind Will's arse so it wouldn't be scratched. He sucked hard on Will's solid length, until the thick hair curling around the base tickled his lips. Fingers teased around the sensitive hollow at the juncture of leg and pelvis, curled around Will's bollocks, lifting and rolling them in their lightly furred sac until Will groaned out loud. Jack lifted his head then, to look up and watch Will with his eyes shut tight, mouth wide open, fists sinking into Jack's thick black hair.

Now Will let out a growl and moved closer, wanting to feel that delicious tension building inside him once more. He didn't care how it looked. And here, on this island, away from people and their rules, there was no such thing as a reputation to uphold. He was going wild, feral, reverting to nature.

Will found himself on his back, Jack's tongue tracing intricate patterns on his neck. He tilted his head back, offering himself up to the pirate. He wanted that mouth everywhere, he wanted to be swallowed whole, he never wanted this to end.

How could he, Will Turner, be enjoying this so much? It was decadent, it was depraved, it had to be a sin. But Jack's lips and tongue and teeth and hands made him hum with life.

He groped blindly, seeking the heat of Jack's erection. He loved the pirate's cock, maybe more than any other part of his body. It responded to Will's every touch, but then all of Jack responded to Will's every touch, and he loved the power of it. Will twisted on the ground so his mouth came within reach of that delicious cock.

He didn't even know, before that night during the storm, that one could do such a thing. Unheard of. Indecent. But he craved the salty taste, craved the feel of it twitching between his lips, the velvety smoothness of skin stretched tight, the pulse against his flattened tongue. And the warm, musky smell of Jack Sparrow.

Jack slid his mouth over Will's length. So hot, Will's throat clenched at the tip of Jack's cockhead, making the pirate hiss. Hot breath leaked down around Will's shaft.

It was hard to concentrate, to do what would feel good for Jack when Jack was doing the same things to him.

Jack's hand stroked over his hip, calming him, distracting him from the building tension, strong hands, a little rough but not enough to hurt. Hard beads woven into Jack's beard bounced across Will's thighs. He caressed smooth flanks, squeezing him lightly on the hip and at the waist, cupping his arse.

Jack's hand on his rump made Will's cock jerk suddenly, there was a muffled grumble from Jack as he lost his rhythm. But his hand remained, rubbing in small circles, fingers pressing into the firm flesh. Will purred around his mouthful of Jack, and while the vibrations didn't send Jack over they edge they did cause a fair amount of delicious fluid to seep out into Will's mouth.

Will tilted his head back so he could trace the leaking slit with his tongue. It tasted best that way, he'd found. He fought to keep from thrusting his hips forward and driving himself further into Jack's mouth, but Jack was pulling him closer, working his lips in a maddening cadence to squeeze the column of hot flesh into a frenzy.

Will swirled his tongue around the sensitive head, slurping at it shamelessly. He lost all sense of decency at times like this, and was glad for it.

Jack circled his hands around the loveliest arse he'd seen or touched. So smooth and flawless, just a faint dusting of baby soft hair, growing coarser in the warm, inviting cleft. He trailed his fingers down the centre. He'd wanted to do this since the first time he touched Will, had been waiting patiently. The slightly damp hair tickled his fingertips, heat increasing the lower they crept.

When Will shuddered, Jack grazed his teeth carefully over his swollen cockhead. Lovely, rich taste tingled on his tongue. He kissed and sucked his way down to the base, laving the silky skin as he went. He turned his head to one side and closed his lips over one tightening bollock, all the while inching his fingers further down.

Will had never felt anything like that before. Jack had touched him there, squeezed him lightly, played with him. But never had he sucked, oh, like that. Into his mouth, unbearable, almost. And so good.

Will's mouth fell open, with Jack still inside. The cool air made Jack twitch and jerk inside. Now Jack was licking that spot where his inner thigh met groin, ticklish and erotic at once. Firm hands kneaded firm flesh, with Will pushing against them, wanting more, not knowing what of, but knowing there was more.

Jack found it hard to control himself, as his fingertips hesitated for only a second, then stretched to massage a perfect small circle around…

What was that?

Jack pressed the tip of one finger, urging the hot, resisting ring to open up to him. Will squirmed, possibly uncomfortable. Jack shifted his finger so the pad of it patted gently against tight, wrinkled skin.

Will jerked back, away from Jack's seeking hands. No one had ever touched him there before.

No, no, not away, Jack silently pleaded. Don't be frightened now.

Will trembled, shocked by the jolt Jack's touch had sent through his whole body and by the idea of Jack touching him somewhere so personal, so private, so very wrong.

Jack scrambled around to face Will, who was sitting up know, looking rather dazed. What to do, how to make this right, how to keep going?

"Y'okay, mate?" Jack once again tried hard to look non-threatening. "Sorry, if you weren't, uh, ready for that?"

Will's eyes widened. Impossibly wide. "You meant to… that's what you've been… all along?" Unthinkable. At least Will at never thought of it.

"Well, how could I help it? You've got such a lovely arse, Will. Don't worry, I'll be very gentle and all." Jack's words were having little effect. "First time, I know, but I'll be so careful, you've just got to trust me, eh."

"Trust, what does this have to do with trust? You just, I mean…" Will was flustered to the point of incoherence. It was just wrong. And if that what pirates really got up to, and Jack, Jack and his father. That was just too much to consider.

Jack reached out to stroke Will's arm, to calm him. "Hush, luv, you're just not used to the idea." The thought occurred that Will was not, as Jack first assumed, worried about being hurt. The further thought occurred that Will, in fact, had never once considered there was any more to two men being together than what he had already experienced and was, more to the point, disgusted by the idea of Jack putting fingers or any other body part up his delectable, scrumptious and thoroughly fuckable arse.

Unthinkable.

Will shifted away from him, nervously. What had he ever been thinking? Here he was, naked on a beach, with his hard and frankly aching cock exposed to this, this degenerate, who had just, who wanted to… and Will found himself looking down at Jack's erection, bobbing in the air, leaking what Will well knew was delicious, slippery fluid, and in an instant he knew, he just knew what Jack really wanted. And he didn't entirely think it was possible. Or desirable. But his own cock wasn't getting any softer and that confused him more than anything.

"Will, you're unfamiliar with this, I understand fully. But you can't stop now. Let me show you, let me teach you." Jack's hands were spread in a gesture of conciliation. As if to say ‘I'm unarmed, mate, it's just me here.' Me and my over eager cock, why can't it go down when I want it to; it's scaring the poor lad.

Will looked up into Jack's eyes. He saw a desperation there that made him altogether more nervous. He didn't know what to do.

*****

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