Parts 56-60

Posted: December 2003
Author: Haleth

~~~~~~

The Pirate Way 56 – Everybody Knows

Everybody was looking.

Captain Jack Sparrow struggled to maintain his customary nonchalance, but it was bloody difficult when everybody knew.

He sauntered into the camp and surveyed the progress made since he had last looked, which was almost three weeks ago because, frankly, the second he stepped on shore the only thing he could see was Will Turner, bright and excited at his return. And really, when Will Turner was grinning and glowing and holding your hand, tugging at you to follow him away from the other people, why in blazes would you pay any attention at all to the camp?

So now Jack stood beside the central fire pit, where some sort of stew involving fish and those god awful white roots everyone was always eating bubbled away, and studied the finished long house, a low structure with wide eaves and a drooping palm leaf roof. Will had a hand in building this, he knew. It looked sturdy enough.

He stood, one hand paused in mid gesture, mid air, and the other hanging at his side, grasping a faded red bundle containing the truly impressive assortment of beads and baubles that had previously adorned his hair.

And everybody was looking.

He tossed his hair over his shoulder, defiant like. Instead of clinking and falling with a thud, it flowed noiselessly, smoothly. It flashed, blue black in the afternoon sun. His face was scrubbed clean, his whole body tingled from the spring water and the scrubbing and all that rubbing of earlier. He wore half the layers he usually did, since it was such a very warm day and it was too much bother to put them all back on when he knew, only hours from now, he'd be taking them all off again.

And did he care if everybody looked? Not at all. They should look. After all, he was Captain Jack Sparrow. And everybody knew, by now, that he'd just given the most luscious man on the island a right and proper fucking. So there.

Speaking of the most luscious man on the island, Will emerged into the clearing with a group of men, his share of a huge tree resting on his shoulder. The men laughed and sang a work song to help their task along. Jack didn't understand the words, of course, but Will seemed to be trying to learn them. That's what was producing the laughter. Will laughed along with them good-naturedly, with the same affability he showed when he left Jack on the path back to camp, so he could help the men fell the tree and haul it back. Always offering to help others.

In the open shelter off to one side, a group of women watched the scene as they worked.

"Look at him, so pleased with himself," one woman said, gesturing in Jack's general direction. She was crushing some small stones with a heavy rock to make dye.

"More like arrogant," Darria grumbled. She stripped the bark from a bundle of branches to weave baskets.

"Nonsense," Kay interjected. "He's proud, and rightly so. You just wish you could have a fine young man like Will. Or at least your daughter does." She bit off a thread and held out the shirt she was sewing, eyeing the seams critically.

"Tsk, no one will be getting anywhere near that one." Tessie scooped a handful of grain from a barrel and kneaded it into the bread dough on a wooden platter. "I doubt Charlotte will be having another go at him."

"Oh, yes she will."

All eyes turned to Kay, who looked up from her sewing innocently. "What? You didn't hear? Will agreed to another try, and Charlotte got Jack to agree as well."

"How do you think she did that? I wonder about my daughter-in-law sometimes. She's altogether too crafty." Tessie tsked again and shook her head, whacking the dough with the side of her hand maliciously. "That Jack had better watch himself. If I ever heard of a bad idea…"

Juni said something that made Darria burst out laughing and then cover her face with her hands.

"Oh my, Juni thinks Will was convincing Jack that it was a good idea, earlier today by the spring."

All eyebrows rose. The story had spread like wildfire, as one might expect it to. Darria wasn't giving out many details, but anyone who spoke Juni's language had heard a comprehensive description.

"You think?"

"But why would Will want to convince Jack?"

"I thought he didn't like girls!"

"You don't think he wants to…?"

They all turned to watch Will, brushing bark from his shoulder and striding across the clearing to Jack's side. Jack was still just standing there, holding the bundle of jewellery and watching Will's approach with sharp black eyes.

When Will reached Jack's side, his hand immediately crept up to twine in soft black tresses. Jack shrugged a little, as if he didn't want any more attention drawn to the state of his hair, but he leaned in when Will's hand brushed his cheek. Will buried his nose in Jack's hair, just behind his ear. His hips rolled forward as he whispered something that made Jack smile, not the calculating smile he gave the ladies when he wanted to impress them but a genuine, unreserved smile. The way Jack's hand rested on Will's forearm, fingers twitching, was alarmingly intimate for such an innocent gesture. Will slid his other hand around Jack's waist, hugging the curve of it with his fingers.

"Definitely not. He's just being a good brother-in-law."

They all nodded in agreement.

"I remember the first time I saw them together, I mean really together." Kay put down her sewing and closed her eyes to better remember. "The day after they arrived. Jack went out and Will was in the yard and Jack touched his shoulder. Just touched. But it wasn't like you would touch me. He acted like Will was fragile, if you can imagine. Or he was afraid Will would swat his hand away. But he didn't. Will put his hand on Jack's shoulder too, and they stood there for the longest time just looking into each other's eyes. It was obvious."

"Was that after you got them on the boat together?"

"No, before. But the day after the boat I stumbled on them kissing in the parlour. Jack had Will pressed up against the wall. I was afraid his hand might be crushed between the plaster and Will's arse. And Will was wriggling against him. Oh, it was something to see."

Tessie squinted at the two men across the clearing. Will had his back to her, and the linen of his trousers clung in a most enticing way to his backside.

"Can't really blame him, can you? I mean, if you were given permission to grab that arse, wouldn't you?" the woman grinding the stones giggled.

"The Captain had both hands on his arse when I happened upon them in the storeroom aboard the Pearl," another woman added. "The lad was about to climb up the Captain just like he might scale the rigging."

"I saw them go up into the crow's nest late one night, and the sounds!"

"When I saw them on deck he had his tongue in Will's…"

"I told that pirate he'd better not be taking advantage of my stepson!" Tessie punched down the bread one last time and set it in a large bowl with a towel over it. They were whispering to each other, on the other side of the clearing, with Jack's hair falling across Will's face like a black curtain, and Will's curls twining around the strands of Jack's hair like a golden vine. Will's thigh nestled tightly between Jack's. Lord, what a sight.

Kay laughed. "Don't worry, mum. I think Will is quite happy and not at all being exploited. He's happy. It's lovely, really."

Darria sniffed. "It's indecent behaviour, that's what it is. One night on the ship Will used a crust of bread to soak up the last of the stew, and that nasty pirate licked his fingers clean, every one of them, one at a time. In front of everyone! Someone has to talk to them about good manners!"

"Well, they have no privacy, and they haven't seen each other in such a long time. Let them do what they want." Kay was defending her stepbrother to the end.

"You sound as if you enjoy watching them," Tessie observed, wryly.

Kay shrugged. Two beautiful men in love. What's not to like? And Franklin certainly didn't mind when Kay got randy after happening upon Jack and Will in one of their many compromising situations. Those two did seem to have the worst of luck.

"This thing with Charlotte worries me though…" Tessie watched as Will uncurled a lock of black hair from his finger and kissed Jack's cheek daintily. Soft, pursed lips. "You say he agreed to try once more."

Kay nodded. "I hope it works this time."

"He's got to save up his seed more," Darria was saying. "You can't expect it to take if it's tired out. He'll have to stay away from Jack for a day or two."

"That's what my husband says," Okonkwo's wife agreed. "He's using it all up, wasting it on that…" She saw how carefully Will patted the top of Jack's shoulder, avoiding the still tender brand. The pirate had some honour. She shouldn't say anything mean.

"Keeping them apart won't be easy," Kay mused.

Tessie watched Will back away from Jack toward his work area. There was an invisible cord pulling them together, and it took all of Will's strength to overcome it. He turned, finally, and Tessie could see the fetching blush high on his cheeks. She supposed Bootstrap was too old to blush like that.

But perhaps if given the right incentive.

She cleared her throat. "Excuse me, I have to, um, do something." And she went off in search of Bootstrap.

Juni whispered something to Darria, who chuckled. "You're right. Ain't going to be no baby if the woman isn't satisfied."

"What was that?" Kay asked.

"Juni is right. The seed doesn't take if the woman doesn't… you know."

Juni giggled and made a very suggestive whole-body gesture evocative of a heaving breast and trembling thighs.

Kay felt the colour rise in her cheeks. "Oh. I never thought of that."

The speculative looks of the others made her face grow even hotter.

"I mean, I always. With Franklin. Every time. So I never really thought of that problem."

"And never had a problem conceiving," the doctor's wife nodded.

"And from what I heard, Charlotte didn't have all that much fun that time."

"Don't you listen to gossip. She enjoyed the boy, who wouldn't?"

"Of course, but I heard it wasn't entirely satisfying for her."

"Looks good but not so talented?"

"Seems to satisfy Captain Sparrow just fine."

"Well, he has no experience. A woman is so different from a man."

"Somebody'd better teach him, then. Charlotte's been in a frightful sour mood since she found out she wasn't with child. Poor Anamaria."

The women prattled on, and their voices faded and merged with the noises of wood being cut and hammered, and people working and children playing, as Will Turner stood on the other side of the woodpile, in shock.

Maybe they were right. Maybe he wasn't good enough to get Charlotte pregnant. He would have to find out how to make it better for her, or he would have to go through all this every month. Jack wouldn't like that, not at all.

Jack was unhappy enough about Will agreeing to have a second go at it. He'd acquiesced easily enough, Will's eager mouth had a lot to do with that, but he was clearly unnerved by the idea of Will's cock being inside anyone other than Jack. Will still thought it was silly, until he thought about Jack being with someone else. Like when he was in the cell with Norrington and Will thought they were talking about… hmmmm.

Once more with Charlotte, and that was final. But he would have to get it right this time, and overcome his lack of experience.

He had made a terrible mess of it the first time and everybody knew.

There was only one person who could help him.

---

The Pirate Way 57 – Fatherly Advice

Will Turner sat patiently on a stump in the clearing. Tessie had emerged from the trees ten minutes before, and he was certain Bootstrap would follow any minute now. And there he was.

"Father!"

Bootstrap looked up, shocked by his son's sudden appearance. He'd been staring at the path as he walked, catching his breath as it were. Tessie showed up an hour before, rather frantic, and dragged him to a secluded clearing. Now he was trying to get himself back on course again. That woman was a whirling dervish when she wanted to be.

"Will. Son. Hello. I was just… that is we were… I, um…"

"I saw Tessie leave."

No use denying it, then. "Right. Well. Shouldn't you be working, or building, or, um, blacksmithing or something?" Bootstrap sat on rock near Will. It was a bit shorter than the stump, which put Bootstrap in the rather uncomfortable position of looking up at his son, but Will didn't seem to notice. He was too busy fidgeting with the hem of his trousers and scrunching up his forehead something fierce. "You all right, lad?"

Will jumped a little. Not enough to fall off the stump, but enough for Bootstrap to notice. "Fine. I'm fine, dad. It's just that, well, something has happened. Something has been brought to my attention. I thought maybe you could give me some advice."

Bootstrap thought about this for a moment. Will wanted advice from his father. That was curious. After all, Will was a grown man, and there wasn't much he could still need to learn from his father. He had a better, more skilled trade than Bootstrap ever learned; he was well liked and respected by most of the people he met. Bootstrap found himself yearning for a spot of rum. If it wasn't career and it wasn't social matters, there was only one other possibility. And Bootstrap most decidedly did not feel up to giving his son pointers on how to go about having sex with Captain Jack Sparrow.

But that was no attitude to have toward one's flesh and blood. He'd done precious little for his son while he grew up. Now could be his chance to make amends. "Go on, lad. What seems to be troubling you?"

Will bit his lower lip.

Bootstrap smiled. He used to do that when he was younger. At least, he hoped he didn't do it anymore.

"It's about women," Will blurted out.

Women? What the devil did his son have to do with women? This was getting odder by the moment. Bootstrap felt the thirst for the rum building.

* * *

"Two days!?!"

Okonkwo and Matthew nodded solemnly.

"I can't go two days without touching Will!"

"Yes, you can."

"No, I bloody well can not!"

Matthew put his hand on the pirate's arm. "You understand why, don't you Jack?"

"Well, yes, but two bloody days? I've been gone for three weeks, gathering supplies for you lot, I might add. Now you won't let me have him…"

"From what I hear, you already had him."

"Yes, of course, but that was just the warm up."

Okonkwo's wife shook her finger at him. "Well, you'll just have to keep simmering for a couple of nights. That girl wants a baby, and it will not be fair if your lust deprives her of it."

Jack sat down in the doctor's little room, curtained off from the rest of the long house.

"Two days…"

* * *

"Why on earth would you want to know how to please a woman?"

"It's Charlotte. She wants a baby, and it means so much to her. It will make her happy. And Anamaria, as well."

"I know all that, but why do you think you have to learn how to please her? I mean, you just have to do your business and the baby will happen, you don't have to go to any trouble."

"That hardly seems fair."

"It doesn't have to be fair, it's just a fact."

"But I heard the women talking, and they said it was necessary."

Oh, so that explained why Tessie had been so riled up. Normally she only got like that at night, after all the work was done. Highly responsible woman, Tessie was. It made the days very long for Bootstrap, under normal conditions. But if she was sitting around talking about women's pleasure, that would explain the sudden onslaught.

"I'm sure the women would like that to be true, but it's just an old wives tale, lad. I assure you, it is not required for the woman to, uh, feel that sort of satisfaction in order for the seed to take."

"And how much would you know about it? All those women, they've had children, most of them. They would know. Besides, I don't think it would be fair to Charlotte if I didn't learn. I'm sure I was less than satisfying last time."

Bootstrap couldn't hold back a snicker. The whole camp had heard Charlotte and Anamaria that night.

"It's not funny, father. Please, just tell me what I should do."

"And what makes you think I know so much about it?"

"Because of the way Tessie looks when you've been together."

Bootstrap sat a little taller. It was true. Tessie did achieve a high level of satisfaction with him. He cleared his throat and attempted to organize his thoughts.

"Well, son, it's not all that different from being with a man."

"The women say it is."

"What would they know about it? Anyway, you know what to do with a man, right?"

Will nodded eagerly. A little too eagerly. Bootstrap could picture Will and Jack all too easily – like looking in a mirror from years ago. He knew the sorts of things Jack enjoyed. Things like that are hard to forget. Strong, demanding hands pushing him up against the wall, wiry arms pinning and bending him, hot lips and sharp teeth on his throat, that thick cock ramming into him, almost lifting him off the floor. Oh, come to think of it, most women probably wouldn't want quite that, would they?

He had to clear his throat again. "You see, son, women like to feel loved."

Will nodded. He could understand that. He liked to feel loved. And he did feel loved. Sometimes Jack would just lie next to him and run his fingers tenderly over Will's skin, following the dips and curves. Fingers would be followed by gentle warm kisses and licks. Murmurs of approval, of endearment. Often followed by careful penetration so intense it was like two bodies becoming one.

Bootstrap frowned at the glazed look in Will's eyes. "You have to be gentle with them, sometimes," he said loudly.

Will shook his head to clear it and refocused his eyes, turning them to meet his father's. "Right. Gentle."

"But you still have to be in charge. A woman likes a confident man, a man who can guide her and tell her what he wants."

"In charge," Will repeated, with a little less certainty. Now there was a problem. Will didn't want anything with Charlotte. Other than to get her pregnant, of course. He would have to concentrate on the goal very hard.

"Women aren't like men. They need a bit more preparation."

"Not Charlotte. She was quite ready, I didn't even need the oil."

Bootstrap didn't know quite how to respond to that. He remembered the oil. Slick and cool, it warmed as soon as it hit his skin, and warmed more when Jack massaged it into him. Fingers, a little rough from wear, perhaps not terribly careful, but always thorough, almost always took the time to fully prepare him. He sat a little straighter when the sensation of fingers, spreading him and scissoring inside him, beckoned from the dark recesses of his mind. He tried not to think about things like that too often, because it tended to make him flustered.

"Preparation," he echoed himself, quite flustered. "It's very important. Like with your hands, your, um, fingers."

Will nodded slowly. He knew all about preparation with fingers. Slow, careful, circling fingertips, and smoothly sliding digits that twisted inside him so deliciously, and coaxed him open. He looked down at his own fingers. His hands were rough. And Charlotte had felt awfully soft. Wouldn't he hurt her? But he had to prepare her somehow. He thought about preparation in general, and specifically how to do it without scratching. Then he thought about a slick, wet tongue, lapping at him and easing into him. Flicking over puckered skin and giving him shivers.

"With my mouth?"

Bootstrap coughed. Mouth. How had the boy thought of that? Jack never used his mouth, not for that kind of preparation. Or did he? He looked at his son. His eyes were glazed over again, and a little smile of blissful content played around his lips.

Jesus, Jack did use his mouth on the boy like that!

"Right, well, I think we should move on to the anatomy." Bootstrap picked up a stick and hastily drew some lines on the dirt path. "Alright. So this here is your basic woman parts. This is like the legs here, and that sort of messed up bit there is where the hair is, and this is the hole you want to go in here and… are you following this, boy?"

Will made an agreeing sort of noise, but he was a little confused. He hadn't actually looked all that closely at Charlotte the time before. Bootstrap kept drawing more details and it seemed vaguely familiar. It seemed a little odd that his father knew all this, but he supposed he would have been more than capable of drawing the male anatomy, or at least Jack's anatomy, if called on. It occurred to him that the anatomy Bootstrap was drawing might be particular to Tessie, who was his stepmother, and that made him feel a bit uncomfortable.

"Now there's this little bump here, it's almost like your prick, you know, but fairly tiny. And very sensitive. You must pay careful attention to it. You can't press it too hard, she won't like that. And just touching it once won't do any good. You have to get into some kind of a rhythm, like."

"Like when you stroke a cock."

Kid caught on fast. "Yes."

"And your mouth?"

"Of course. Your mouth. If you like. You could lick it, I suppose."

"Suck?"

"Don't see why not."

"And what about the hole?"

"Ah, well, you could lick around that too. Or use your fingers."

"Is there a…"

"A what?"

"A place. Inside. Like in a man."

Bootstrap considered this. The boy was certainly being thorough in his investigation of the matter. His attitude seemed to be that if a job was worth doing it was worth doing well. A very workmanlike, respectable sort of attitude. He had obviously been absent from his son's life for far, far too long.

* * *

"Two days," Jack muttered as he helped Gibbs haul the last of the cargo from the hull of the Black Pearl and load it into the rowboat.

"Aw, Captain, it's not that bad. I was married once and was away from my wife for two years at a stretch."

"Oh really, Mr. Gibbs. And where is your wife now?"

"She left me."

Jack needed a drink.

"For the town blacksmith, as a matter of fact."

Jack needed Will.

* * *

Bootstrap had finally warmed up to the topic. He was imparting whatever wisdom he could, describing intimate techniques and details, scribbling in the dirt when mere words would not suffice.

That was how Jack found them. The sun was almost setting. Father and son sat side by side in deep discussion. Lovely, handsome faces with almost identical serious expressions. Will sitting just a little higher, his hair still curling into ringlets framing his creased brow. Bootstraps hair pulled back loosely, damp with sweat or something, as if he'd been doing something strenuous at some point in the day. It was an almost wholesome looking scene, until Jack approached close enough to hear the words.

"…So you should always have your palm facing up, when the woman is on her back and your fingers are inside, ‘cause she'll like it best that way…" Bootstrap noticed that Will was no longer paying any attention to him, but staring down the path.

Lo and behold, there stood Captain Jack Sparrow, with one hand suspended in the air and the other at his side, fist clenched tightly.

"William. Will. Having a little father-son chat, are we, eh?"

Father and son rose.

"Um, I was just telling the boy a few things, savvy. Nothing wrong with knowledge, eh?"

Jack nodded slowly. "Indeed. Will, might I have a word with you?"

Will stepped toward Jack. "Of course. Why don't we go get some supper and we can talk?"

Jack glowered at Bootstrap. "See you at camp, William." Teeth gritted. It wasn't the kind of anger that made Jack Sparrow lash out. Bootstrap would have recognized that. He was only irritated. Extremely irritated. Perhaps it would be best for Bootstrap to avoid Jack for a few days.

* * *

Darria hurried to the spot she knew she'd dropped her hairbrush earlier, in her haste to retreat from the unwholesome display of wantonness at the hot spring. She found the brush before the light failed entirely, and made her way back to camp by a shorter trail.

Halfway there she looked down and saw a series of drawings in the dirt on the path. It took her a while to realize what she was looking at, what with the dim light and all. When she discerned what the scratches in the dirt were she stood shocked for a few minutes, before shuffling back and forth to erase the offensive images.

"Bloody pirates!" she growled.

---

The Pirate Way 58 – Two Days and Two Nights

Will Turner sat by the fire, face frozen in disbelief.

Two days.

He understood he was sacrificing a lot to make a baby for Charlotte, but two days without Jack seemed a bit much. It made perfect sense, the way Okonkwo explained it, with Matthew working as his interpreter. He had to save up the seed, so it wouldn't be diluted.

But two days?

Jack had been gone for three weeks. That whole time Will had been dreaming about when they would be together again. If he'd known he would have to forego Jack for even one night he would have said ‘no' when Charlotte approached him. He hadn't known when Jack would return. The sea doesn't keep a schedule.

For all those years Will had never slept with another person. He had no siblings, so he had never had to share his bed, such as it was – a rough cloth sack with some straw stuffed into it. He slept in that same bed until one winter when they had to burn the straw for heat, and until he outgrew his clothes and his mother had to make him a pair of trousers from the sacking. Then he slept on the hearth. It's why the heat of the fire didn't bother him when he worked. He was used to being toasted on one side and cold on the other.

When he first arrived in Port Royal, he was immediately apprenticed to Mr. Brown. Not actually apprenticed, more like sold. He had no say in the matter. At that time, Mr. Brown wasn't drinking nearly as much; his wife was still around to keep him in line. She was very kind to Will. She made sure he had some decent clothes and good food, read with him and studied the Bible with him, taught him how to behave. His own mother had brought him up to be polite and respectful, but Mrs. Brown taught him about table manners and the like. And when he grew, which was often, she let out his clothes and helped him get new ones.

And he had his own straw mattress again, this one thicker than the one before, though no less prickly.

Then she just disappeared one day. Tired of life in Port Royal, her husband claimed. And Will missed her presence, because now he was the only one reading the Bible and setting the table properly. Mr. Brown and the other apprentice had no interest in such niceties.

After Mrs. Brown left, the drinking started. And the beatings. Mr. Brown, exercising his rights as a master, took out all his frustrations on his two apprentices. The other one left as soon as he saw the opportunity. Swam out to a merchant vessel in the dead of night and was never seen again. Will stayed on. And learned.

And took the mattress the older apprentice had used, which was stuffed with cotton and much more comfortable. He still slept alone.

Before Mr. Brown descended into a mostly permanent drunken stupor, Will had learned most of his trade. The rest he picked up from travellers. He was comfortable on the docks, greeting newcomers and asking questions. If there's no one to teach you your trade, you must find it wherever you can. A dark, dour man from very far away taught him a new, at least to Will, method of folding steel. It had to do with the way he gripped the hammer, and the way he held the sword. A twist of the wrist and his work became finer, his blades stronger, his angles more precise. The man asked for nothing in exchange but a place to sleep for a few nights. Now, finally, Will understood that the stranger probably wished for much more, but was enough of a gentleman to not take it without Will's permission.

So Will still slept alone.

Soldiers came looking for the stranger the day after he left. Will did not say a word about his visitor. Discretion is a skill he learned at a young age.

"Will!"

He blinked, eyes suddenly sore when he realized he'd been staring into the bright flames for quite some time. "What?"

Jack. Beautiful, questioning, swaying, beautiful Jack. Who slept with him. Who curled his slim body around Will and kept at least one possessively over Will's shoulder throughout the night. Who nuzzled him, and who sometimes talked in his sleep, though it rarely made any sense. "Y'alright, lad? You look a bit lost."

"I shall not be comfortable, sleeping without you tonight," Will said simply.

Jack looked a bit heartbroken at that. Which made Will feel very special.

"S'right, luv. Neither of us will be. But I've been warned, by numerous people, to stay away from you until after this foul deed is accomplished, and frankly, I'm not at all inclined to be putting my goods at risk." One of his hands slid unconsciously over his crotch. "That Mrs. Okonkwo can be fairly persuasive," he whispered conspiratorially, "specially when she's brandishing a butcher knife." He gave a sly wink with a twitchy jerk of his head.

Will was shocked. He looked over at Okonkwo's wife, who sat rather primly in her bottle green dress, which she didn't fill out nearly as entirely as Charlotte did, so she looked proper and demure, even. She was twisting her son's hair into neat rows and singing a lullaby. Will could not imagine this woman wielding a butcher knife at Jack's privates, but anything was possible. Jack must be exaggerating.

Then the lady in question turned her head and fixed her steely gaze on Jack. Her looked hardened somehow, and with one hand she made a little gesture, with a twist of her wrist and a slicing motion. Will swallowed hard.

"Indeed," Will said. "Well, I'll be doing night watch on the hill then. I suggest you go back to the Pearl."

* * *

Jack lay in his bed on the Pearl, alone and missing Will. He knew the boy was up on the peak of watch hill, which he could have seen if he were only to rise and look out the window. But he refused to look, because it would only make things worse.

He thought back on the events of the day. His hurried arrival and disembarkment. The brief discussion with Alphonse about the contents of the Pearl's hold. Will approaching him on the beach. Oh god, the boy looked incredible. Sleeves all rolled up, forearms bulging, arms open wide to embrace Jack, albeit in a somewhat discreet manner. Tugging him up the path to that ridiculous bathtub. And then…

And then. Jack's head rolled back at the memory of Will just pulling his shirt over his head. Would he ever be able to get enough of that chest, those muscles, his stomach, the broad back, sculpted arms?

His hand on his cock. Jack's hand, on Jack's cock, that is.

Then the trousers went and it was legs all the way, and rounded buttocks and even the small of his back, the two hollows on either side of his spine - everything was perfect and lickable and delicious, as he knew from copious experience, but never enough experience.

Jack wished he was the cold water rolling down Will's chest and back. No, then he would flow off Will's body, which would be unacceptable, even if he did get to meander down through lovely dark curls and even caress the length of Will's cock. Then he wished he was the horrid substance Will was washing his hair with. No, then he would be rinsed away from chestnut coloured silk, that that wouldn't do at all. Jack stroked his cock in earnest, and tried to imagine some way he could get so close to Will Turner that they would never be separated.

Will lowering himself, with Jack's cock spearing up into him. Bloody hell. Jack tugged on his cock fiercely, imagining the tight heat surrounding him, the firm arse coming to rest on his crotch, and the way Will's back arched when Jack reached around and stroked his thumb over the swollen head of Will's cock. "Fuck!" Jack writhed on the bed and moaned as he erupted over his hand.

* * *

From up here, on the highest peak of the island, Will could see everything if he wanted to - the quiet cove with the Interceptor and Black Pearl anchored in it, the flickering lights of the settlement to the east of the cove, a torch lit by the spring and shadowy figures bathing in the moonlight, the many volcanic mountains that made up this strange island.

Will sat with his back to the Black Pearl. It was only for two nights, after all. His eyes swept over the dark sea. There was no sign of any ship approaching. He turned his gaze to the south end of the isle, where the cave he'd fought cursed pirates in so long ago lay. He'd seen it the week before, when he accompanied Alphonse and a few others on a short, exploratory cruise. The approach from the sea was completely blocked, as if the island was protecting its treasure.

He was looking, to the best of his knowledge, the outline of the mountain. The top rose to a sharp point, and deep crevices were cut into the sides of it. From this side, one would never guess what lay within. It looked ordinary, although even more barren than the surrounding peaks.

Then a glimmer caught his eye, from deep within one of the fissures. A faint sparkle. Just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. Trick of the light? Perhaps he should tell Alphonse. It might be worth investigating.

He scanned the dark horizon, shifting on the cold shelf of smooth rock he was sitting on. That nagging call just would not go away; his cock stirring within his trousers. He didn't want to be sitting alone on the top of a mountain, not when he knew Jack was behind him on the Pearl. He wondered what Jack was doing. Would he be asleep, muttering softly as he always did? Often, Will could not make out the words. Soft murmurs, snatches of a song, low sighs. Sometimes he could understand the words, because Jack dreamed of Will, and when he did he would hear Jack moan, and say things that made Will want to wake his lover.

Or maybe Jack wasn't sleeping. Maybe he was standing on the deck, unable to sleep, thinking about Will.

* * *

Jack lay on his back, running his hands over his flat chest. Will had more pronounced pectorals than he did, Jack mused. Will had swells and curves Jack did not possess. He had a broader chest and his nipples were further apart than Jack's. They were bigger too, with lovely wide circles of dusky pebbled flesh and a thick nub in the centre that responded to Jack's touch, Jack's tongue, Jack's breath. He would toy with one and feel it grow, and get thicker under his fingers.

Jack pinched one of his own nipples. It was smaller, and harder. Will loved to suck on them, and Jack had to wet is fingers to get a sensation that was, while nowhere near as good, a little closer to the sensation of Will's tongue on him.

His fingers brushed over the scars on his chest. Deep and ugly, Jack considered them. Paler than they used to be. In time they would fade to a pale pink, maybe even white, but that wouldn't be for years. The skin was dead in the centre; he couldn't feel a thing there. But at the edges, it sometimes tingled. Even hurt. Still.

That scar tissue had felt foreign to him for a long time. All part of what made him Jack Sparrow, and he would never forget, but it was almost as if those scars were attached to him, not of him. Until the first time Will saw them. He'd stroked them, carefully; eyes wide and sad, and then he'd bent his head and swept the flat of his tongue over them, like to soothe them. And it worked. They bonded to Jack that instant, and became part of him. Astounding, when Jack thought about it. Magical.

Will lavished such attention on his flaws, as if he cherished them more than he did the smooth, unblemished parts. Little kisses and licks and pats to his forearms, his back, that place on his thigh where the spear had impaled him, the rough patch just above his waist on his left side, where the skin had been torn off and healed over so unevenly. His brand. The old one, on his arm, and the new ones. His forehead.

He'd been frightened all that evidence of his less than savoury character might repel the lad. Jack didn't find anything particularly attractive about it all. But Will did not turn away. And Jack felt a surge of gratefulness for that.

Then he felt a surge of something else, something hot and itching and pulsing. His cock filled once more, hard as ever, when his thoughts turned to Will Turner lavishing attention on any part of him, flawed or smooth. It was going to be a very long night.

* * *

Will had to concentrate hard to keep his hands off himself. "Preposterous," he muttered to no one. "I'm not allowed to even touch myself." He caressed the smooth rock, feeling the worn stone dip slightly, much like the curve beneath Jack's ribs.

There was a little imperfection in the surface, and it too was worn smooth, and it was round and the exact same size as Jack's navel. Which Will had skimmed over a few times but never paid enough attention to. Will longed to lick it, spear it with his tongue, give Jack the same pleasure he got from Jack.

He pulled his hand back from the ledge, as one would pull away from a hot stove. "Unreasonable," he growled. "How could an old rock remind me of Jack?"

He got up to move to a different rock. A better rock. Not smooth like Jack, rougher, less comfortable. He sat down and realized his mistake immediately. For one of the rough imperfections of this rock was situated directly under his arse, and it swelled up from the surface in the exact same way that….

Will sighed. This was going to be a very long night.

* * *

Jack ran his hands over his stomach. Hard and flat, which were the same words he would use to describe Will's stomach, but it felt wholly different. Jack's skin didn't feel as fluid. The trail of hair on his lower belly didn't curl so much. As Jack's hands crept lower he noticed that the curve was different. His hair at the base of his cock was different, as well. It was finer, but there was more of it and it tended to gather into thicker clumps. Slipping sideways his hands found sharp, jutting hipbones. They didn't have the same grace to them that Will's did.

In fact, he didn't find anything on himself that wasn't better on Will. Which made him question just why Will would be attracted to him. Oh, yes, experience. He knew he could do things to Will that no one else could. Not that he knew everything. But he was always learning more, and applying his knowledge expertly.

But what did Will see in him? Why would someone like Will choose to be with someone like Jack? What if someone as attractive as… as attractive as Will showed up? Would Will leave his flawed, not so beautiful pirate?

* * *

Every time Will closed his eyes he saw the clean curves of Jack's cheekbones. He loved that smooth, tanned skin above the beard. He wanted to run his fingers up and down the ridges, and around Jack's eyes. But he didn't know if Jack would like it. It would be too much like saying he was beautiful, and Will didn't know if Jack would appreciate that.

When he stood to stretch his arms and try to think of something, anything, else, he thought about how Jack had looked the first time they fucked. Arms stretched up holding onto the ceiling beam when Will turned over, all wiry and tense, muscles jumping under tightly stretched skin. He still had trouble believing Jack was all his.

When he put his flattened palms on the top of his thighs, he thought of Jack's lean legs. Wrapped around his waist while Will fucked him hard. He still had trouble believing that had actually happened. Twice.

And why was he on this mountain? So he could be with Charlotte again. Betray Jack. Again. It wasn't right. He couldn't let it happen.

The sun was rising. He would go down and tell Charlotte he couldn't do it.

---

The Pirate Way 59 – Timing is Everything

Captain Jack Sparrow draped himself fluidly over the railing of the Black Pearl to watch the moon rise over the jagged mountains. His ship bobbed softly on the calm waters of the sheltered bay, the air was warm and fresh, and all seemed right with the world.

Except that he knew Will Turner was, at that very moment, preparing to bed the reprehensible Charlotte, the harlot, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.

Jack lifted his head to stare at the deserted shore, and then dropped it to smack it hard against the wood railing. Why did he have to be so bloody noble? Will had come to him, all eager and begging forgiveness, saying he would prove his love for Jack by not getting Charlotte pregnant. And what did Jack do? Not to be outdone, Jack told him, "Oh, no, Will. It's okay. You go ahead and fuck the Harlot, I don't mind one bit. I love you too much to stop you from bedding a woman…" Maybe not in those exact words, but that was the outcome.

"I can never resist a pissing contest," he muttered to the night air.

So here he was. Proving he loved Will as much as Will loved him. Absurd.

For two days and one night, the conspiracy of the DeMauriers had kept him away from the most luscious man on the island. Every bloody time he got within two feet of Will, one of those wretches would pop up between them and hustle him away. Even Bootstrap got in on the action, dragging Jack down the beach to his boat a few hours before. It was only a goodnight kiss, for the love of god. Jack felt he was owed at least that.

Anamaria arrived not too long before, in almost as foul a mood as Jack. Matthew was sitting with her now, explaining and cajoling the way he'd talked Jack into not lopping off heads earlier.

Oh, no, he wasn't. He was climbing down and rowing back to shore. Because *his* lover wasn't bedding his stepsister tonight. Oh, no. His lover was waiting for him, and the two of them would get naked and go to bed together and do whatever it was Alphonse and Matthew liked to do together when they were naked and in bed.

But Jack! Jack had to stay here, on the Pearl, while that filthy little harlot…

"Oh, hello, Anamaria."

"What did you just say about my girlfriend?"

"Nothing, nothing at all."

"Well, keep it that way, Jack. Because there's a few things I could say about yours."

"My girlfriend?"

"Your ‘harlot'."

"But you won't, because we're going to remain civil, aren't we?"

She nodded, and settled next to Jack against the rail.

"What now?"

"There's a case of rum right behind you. Would you be so kind as to…"

"Only if I can get drunk too."

"Ooh, we have an accord. I love an accord! Drinks all around!!"

* * *

Will licked his lips nervously. Charlotte was inside the little hut, built for her by Matthew and Alphonse and Anamaria and Franklin, as an advance present for the baby. The baby he was supposed to make. She was waiting for him, he knew. But he wasn't ready to go in just yet. In his mind, he replayed all the tips Bootstrap had given him the afternoon before. About preparation and fingers and positions and timing. Timing was everything. So was attitude.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the roughly-hewn door.

"Enter."

He pushed it open and stepped into the room.

Charlotte sat on the edge of the bed wearing a frilly sort of nightgown with her red hair tumbling down over her shoulders. She really was quite fetching, and would even be beautiful to Will, if it wasn't for her being a woman.

He wondered if that was the only thing. He wondered if he would be attracted to another man? He thought about some of the men on the island. There were certainly a lot of attractive men around. Franklin and Matthew and Alphonse and Shimura and, oh, Bertram was quite nice looking… but none of them made him excited. None of them were Jack.

So it wasn't just gender. He wouldn't be comfortable no matter who he was with, unless the person he was with was Jack, in which case he would be more than comfortable. That was interesting. Will shook his head and focused. He had to concentrate on the task at hand.

Charlotte stared at him, waiting for this moment of dazedness to pass. She assumed he was thinking about Jack, getting himself ready. She could live with that.

Will sat on the bed, running Bootstrap's lessons through his mind. He lifted on hand to Charlotte's cheek and turned her head toward him.

The kiss was sweet, delicate. His lips pressed against hers softly, his tongue swept teasingly until her lips parted, and then entered her mouth. All very gentle and gentlemanly, considering what they were doing. His other hand traced up her arm and shoulder. He pushed his tongue further into her mouth and let his hand glide across her throat and down, to rest over the swell of her breast.

Charlotte felt herself grow dizzy. This wasn't the same, scared boy from last month. He was seducing her, showing her what he wanted, taking control even. She gasped as his thumb brushed over her nipple, teasing it to full erectness. Little moans accompanied every swipe of his tongue in her mouth. And when he nudged her down, to lie on the bed, she melted back onto the mattress willingly.

* * *

Jack shook the rum bottle inches from his face. Definitely empty. Bugger.

"Anamaria, I seem to have run out of rum. Do you happen to have any more?"

Anamaria flopped ungracefully in the direction of the crate, wincing when her own rum bottle fell to the deck and rolled downhill. The Pearl pitched in the opposite direction and the bottle rolled back, bumping her on the knee.

"S'empty, too," she slurred. "But fear not, we have plenty!" She fished around in the straw packing material and pulled another bottle from the crate. "Victory!"

Jack guffawed and held out his hand for the bottle, quite miffed when Anamaria popped open the cork and took a long pull. "Hey, that's my rum, you heartless wench."

Anamaria laughed. "It's *our* rum, Jack. And don't call me ‘wench', you scallywag."

"‘Scallywag'! Why you two-bit strumpet!" He lunged and snatched the bottle from her hand, landing in an undignified heap on the deck.

" ‘Strumpet'! I've slit men's throats for lesser insults!"

Jack tilted his head back and let the rum pour down his throat without pausing to swallow. When the flow rate from the bottle exceeded that of his gullet, his mouth overflowed and he found himself with a shirt soaked in rum, untidy but pleasantly cool on the skin.

"Anamaria," he gargled, "just what do you suppose the two of them are up to by now?"

* * *

Charlotte was lying back on the bed with Will Turner licking and kissing his way down her naked torso. He lapped at her pale skin like a hungry kitten, and she purred in excitement. This might not be so awkward and unsatisfying as the last time.

Will drew a pink nipple into his mouth and rolled his tongue around it. Didn't do a thing for him, other than the fact that it bore a vague resemblance to sucking on Jack's nipple. But only in that it was, in fact, a nipple and he, Will, was in fact sucking on it, and he did like to spend whatever time was available sucking on Jack's nipples, so there was an natural sort of correlation.

But it didn't feel right. There was no muscle straining under his lips. No wispy black hairs gliding under his tongue. And it was much larger than Jack's nipple. Not as hard. Maybe if he gave it the carefullest, gentlest little nip, a tug really. Ah, it was much harder now. Much more palatable.

Charlotte sighed. And hoped he wasn't planning to spend the rest of the night on that one nipple. Then somewhat rough, but still gentle, hands slid down her belly, and long fingers dipped between her legs. She shivered and wriggled to get them closer. Long, exploratory strokes across her moist folds. And a thumb gliding over her hard clit. Yes, that was perfect.

Will rubbed little circles around the hard bump. It seemed to be working just fine. Charlotte sighed and moaned and wriggled and the folds of flesh beneath his fingers were getting wetter. Fascinating. Of course, it still didn't do anything for him, but she seemed to be enjoying it immensely. He licked along her belly, not as hard and flat as Jack's, skin so soft he was afraid to damage it. He worried about his fingers between her legs. He didn't want to scratch her. They were a lot softer than usual, and she wasn't complaining, so he assumed everything was alright.

The air filled with the smell of Charlotte and the cream Juni had pressed into Will's hands on his way to Charlotte's hut. Sort of like the hair conditioner but thicker. The tiny woman stood on the path in front of him, rubbing the thick white substance into his hands. He was shocked at first, assuming it was meant to be some sort of lubricant. But then he realized she was rubbing it into his skin, and that it was smoothing his skin. She smiled up at him while she rubbed the cream into every nook and cranny, paying speciall attention to fingertips and knuckles, and talked in her language. The only words he understood were "help", "woman" and "happy". But, he guessed, that about summed it up.

* * *

"It's despicable."

"It's a disgrace, that's what it is."

"I mean, who ever heard of fathering a child as a favour."

"And why assume it will even happen? I mean, she lost a couple of babies, you know. Whether it was on purpose or not. In her line of work, that's a given. We don't even know for sure if she can have one."

"What did you say?"

"Jesus, Jack, don't you go repeating that to anyone! It's private, and a secret. On your honour, you swear you'll never tell a soul I told you that!"

"What honour?"

Anamaria giggled.

"Honestly, Anamaria, you'll have to find something bloody better than that for me to swear on."

"On your love for Will."

"Your secret is safe with me."

The sound of yet another empty rum bottle hitting the deck filled the air.

"I can't go through this again. She's got to get pregnant tonight…"

* * *

Charlotte moaned with delight as Will's tongue swept up her pale, soft inner thigh. He took a first, tentative lick between her legs. Not bad. A little tangy. Not as salty or earthy as Jack. But not terrible. He gave another lick, delving deeper inside. A stream of juices flowed over his tongue. Will slid a finger into the hot, wet tunnel and turned his palm upward, curling just slightly at the fingertip, and lapped at the hard little nub of nerves.

Now Charlotte was getting louder, and wriggling her hips to get him to move faster. He pursed his lips and worried at the engorged not-quite prick. She liked that. He got bolder in his movements, licked harder, thrust into her with more confidence. The noises from Charlotte grew higher and louder.

Will became paralysed by the notion that everyone on the island could hear her. He didn't care if they heard him and Jack, not really. He couldn't help that. But now everyone would know that it was just seed donation, that he was really making love to her. He didn't want them to think he was enjoying it.

Charlotte tugged at his shoulders and pulled him up her body. She'd listened well to the advice of all the other women, and was certain she would get pregnant if she could reach her peak while Will was inside her, and now was the time. If he got into her now she would just have to touch herself a little bit and she would climax at the exact right time.

Will turned his head as it neared Charlotte. He knew his face was smeared with her fluids, and he thought it would be awfully rude to… oh, my, she just grabbed his face and kissed him hard. She didn't seem to mind at all. She kissed him hungrily, but she pulled away in frustration when she reached down and found… nothing.

"Will…" she whispered.

"I'm sorry, I got worried about people hearing, and I haven't really been, you know, thinking about Jack, honest, and I don't know what to …"

"It's okay, Will. You don't have to be a gentleman on my account. Go ahead and think about Jack, if it will help. You have me so close; I don't want to have to wait too long."

Will nodded, and tried to think about Jack, but he could only picture the look on Jack's face when he told Will it was all right for him to make Charlotte pregnant. He knew Jack was just being noble, trying to prove how much he cared by showing how much he would give up for Will. The hurt was plain in Jack's eyes, when he told Will "No, don't not do it on my account. It's a family obligation, and far be it from me to…"

"Will, you're not thinking the right things about Jack!" Charlotte gave an ineffectual tug to the limp organ in her hand. It was still very nice when soft. The skin was silky smooth and the foreskin crinkled in the most delightful manner where it gathered in tiny folds around the base of the wide head. But it wasn't useful.

Will was getting flustered, and that was going to ruin the whole night. Desperate situations call for desperate measures. "Will, I saw you in the bath."

"I know."

"No, I mean, I saw everything in the bath. I saw you get ready for the bath. And Jack. And I saw you get into the bath. And I saw you stand up in the bath."

There was a sharp intake of breath.

This would either embarrass him to death or make him rock hard, and there was only one way to find out.

"I saw you put your fingers inside yourself."

Bull's-eye! Charlotte's hand was filled with a deliciously hardening cock, twitching and swelling at an alarming rate. She couldn't stop now. "I saw Jack licking your arse. He was fucking you, wasn't he? He was fucking you with his tongue…"

Will moaned loudly and bucked his hips into Charlotte's hand. The thought of Jack's tongue in his arsehole, it made him feel so improper, so wanton, so wanted.

"Tell me how it feels when he puts his tongue inside you." Charlotte was wriggling her way into position beneath Will, spreading her legs to take him in.

Will grunted something about good and let her position his cock so it rubbed against her dripping opening.

"Don't cheat, Will. Tell me how it really makes you feel." This would take him to the very summit, she knew it.

Will concentrated on the memory of Jack's tongue, only vaguely aware of the slick tunnel opening up around the head of his cock. His tongue felt better than good. It felt like heaven. When Jack speared his tongue and thrust inside, he could feel his muscles go lax and his arse open up. And when he flattened his tongue and swept it over the puckered skin it made Will feel…

"Helpless," he gasped. "He makes me feel helpless, like I want to surrender to him.."

He sank into her wet heat and groaned.

Just as the door was flung open.

Charlotte pushed Will off her and whipped the discarded blankets up around her naked form, with a speed and dexterity learned from countless raids.

Will tumbled back to the end of the bed, his cock hard and shining, jutting up proudly in the dim candlelight.

Two uniformed naval officers were silhouetted in the doorway.

"Avast!" one of them cried out. "This cannot continue!"

---

The Pirate Way 60 – A Serious Situation

Will Turner woke with a splitting headache, and uncertain of his whereabouts. He was in a dark room, but it was daytime. He could tell because thin shafts of excruciatingly bright sunlight leaked into the room from cracks in the ceiling and stabbed his eyes painfully.

Then he noticed the swaying. The room was moving. It might have been just his headache, but then the candlestick on the table beside the bed tipped over. An earthquake? No, the rocking was regular, and there was no rumbling noise. There was only the sound of waves lapping at the hull.

He was on a boat. A ship. Alone. In a dark room. Below deck, he could tell. People were walking directly above him. He sat up, regretting the action immediately when the pain in his head sloshed forward with the motion and threatened to push his eyeballs out of their sockets.

Lying back down, safely, he reached up to locate the cause of his injury. He touched his forehead, where the pain throbbed most. His skin was smooth and intact. Not even a bump to mar it. Unless you counted the very deep crease between his eyebrows. He ran his hands through his hair. Long, soft curls, no matted blood or wetness, no lumps or tender spots. It seemed to hurt all over, without a single point of origin.

The back of his neck was stiff, but he again felt no injury. Curious. He was beneath the deck of a ship, in a closed room. However did he get there? The last thing he remembered… he couldn't remember the last thing he remembered. Last night, he supposed, was a bit of a blur. He concentrated, intensifying his headache but there was nothing for it; it had to be done.

The beach. Jack trying to kiss him on the beach and his father popping up between them. Taking him back to the camp while jack rowed to the Pearl. Charlotte. Charlotte's hut. Charlotte in his arms, moaning while he kissed her and fondled her. Actually, he was doing quite well. She was reacting in a thoroughly aroused manner and seemed to have no hint that he was only carrying out his duty. Then she started talking about Jack and Will and the bath and Jack's tongue inside him.

Will shifted on the uncomfortably hard bed. And reached down to pat the uncomfortably hard cock he seemed to have grown. Jack's tongue in him got him hard every time, even the mere thought of it. He had to be very careful to not think of it at an inopportune time, like when he was working with hot iron or when too many other people were around. He spread his legs unconsciously and wriggled his arse. It helped him remember the exact sensation of hot, wet muscle circling and spearing him.

But then he remembered the officers and bolted upright, damn the headache. Naval officers interrupted him, with Charlotte. And now he was on a ship, locked in a dark room below deck, with no way out. They must have thought he was ravishing her. He would hang for certain! He ran his hand over the rough planks of the wall and followed them around the corner to the door. He felt the hinges and was relieved to find it would be no trouble at all to break out, but he decided against any rash action.

He had no idea how far out to sea they were. If he broke out of the room now they might just throw him overboard, and claim he was trying to escape. He should wait. That's what Jack would do. Wait until he had more information. That was it.

He felt his way back to the bed. He would sit and think and figure a way out. But all he could think of was that he was below deck, probably below the water level, and the walls seemed to close in around him. This was, indeed, a serious situation.

* * *

Captain Jack Sparrow woke with the bright sun in his eyes and a splitting headache. He was soaked to the bone and on the beach, apparently. He shut his eyes and rolled over to face the sand. Bloody sun, who needed it, anyway?

The sand was damp on his cheek. And cold. But it was bright so it must be morning. The headache was readily explainable, after the sheer volume of rum he must have consumed the night before, judging by the foul and disturbingly fuzzy taste in his mouth. But how the devil did he end up wet on the beach? He thought back carefully to the night before.

It was only a few paces away that he'd tried to kiss Will goodnight. Then he remembered yelling at Bootstrap and every cursed DeMaurier in range. Matthew rowed him out to the Pearl, then he brought Anamaria over, and then the bugger took the boat back with him, "so you two won't cause any trouble".

Well, that explained it all. He'd gotten rip roaring drunk and decided to swim to shore to get closer to Will. That made sense. He always wanted to get closer to Will, whether he was drunk or not. But when he was drunk he wanted to get even closer to Will, because he had no self-control at all when he was drunk. So it was a good thing Will had restricted his rum intake when they were stranded on that island together, because he would have jumped the poor boy and scared him away for good.

So, he'd been upset about the lack of a boat and swum to shore. That was all logical and fine. He tilted his head to the other side, to get a look at the beach.

Many feet ran past, back and forth, all over the sand. This way and that, it was dizzying. Some were bare, and some were stockinged and shod in buckled shoes. Some wore boots, fine knee high leather boots gleaming in the sun. Jack decided to look higher. White trousers and red coats swam into view. Good lord, it was an invasion!

Bloody redcoats everywhere, loading supplies and rowing off in little boats and coming back again. He couldn't see anyone who lived on the island.

Fortunately, no one seemed to have noticed him yet. He'd beached himself off to the side, amongst some driftwood and weedy sort of things; he was never good with plant names. His frock coat was ideal protective colouring on the wet sand and dark, dreary plant things. Jesus, how the hell did he swim to shore in his coat? He was even still wearing his boots. That must have been some rum.

He raised his head and inched himself forward by the elbows, dragging his legs behind him, headed for a thicket of something a little further inshore. He would hide in the undergrowth and wait, get more information. He had to find out how many there were, what they knew about the island and where Will was.

Then it occurred to him that if they'd found him already, with the harlot, they might make the wrong assumption. She wouldn't want to admit to them she was a harlot. In fact, the paperwork had already been forged, naming her a somewhat wealthy widow. And if they found Will with her, doing what Jack was pretty sure Will was doing with Charlotte last night, then… he revised his plan. He had to find out where Will was first.

* * *

Will breathed deep and steady on purpose, to slow the pounding of his heart. He was having trouble filling his lungs with air. It was hot in the small, dark room. The water kept lapping up against the wall, threatening him, reminding him that he was below the surface.

He couldn't stay in here mush longer. He would have to get out, somehow. He'd rather be lashed to the mast than this. Even when he was kneeling on the deck of the Interceptor II, bound hand and foot with Norrington's sword at his throat, he didn't feel this restricted. The ache in his head was subsiding. He was strong and fit. He could handle whatever would follow, as long as it didn't involve staying in this room any longer.

He braced himself against the door and grasped the handle firmly. With the proper application of strength, by ramming his shoulder against the door and yanking on the handle for leverage, he could dislodge the door from its hinges.

He would get topside, somehow, and if land was anywhere in sight he would swim for it.

He counted to three and heaved his body against the door.

* * *

Jack crept through a clump of closely placed palm trees. He could see Bootstrap and Tessie, Bootstrap's arm protectively around her shoulder. So they hadn't separated the couples. That was interesting. They were talking to a blue-coated officer, of whom Jack could only see his back. They were gesturing around the camp, pointing in all directions.

Good old Bootstrap, trying to confuse them. Jack would have to steal through the trees in the direction of Charlotte's pathetic excuse for a house, and then figure out if Will was inside or elsewhere.

Another officer approached, his face hidden by a wide-brimmed hat. He put his hand on Tessie's arm and she didn't pull away. That was interesting. She hadn't turned them in, had she?

"Spread out," one of the officers shouted to the redcoats, "we must find Captain Sparrow!"

Jack mentally slapped himself for being pleased that the officer had remembered to refer to him by his proper title. The situation was far too serious for such frivolity. Will was in danger!

* * *

Will Turner landed in a heap on the floor of the corridor. The door had not, in fact, been locked. Thus, his proper application of force had propelled him at an inappropriately high velocity out of the room and, since the door of the room was situated at the juncture of two hallways, half way down the perpendicular hall.

He shook his head and stood up, trying to orient himself. It was hopeless. The light was still dim, and he didn't know the layout of the ship, and he could hear heavy footsteps headed his way.

"You're headed in the wrong direction there, young Mr. Turner."

* * *

It was simple to evade capture. When Jack had his wits about him, soldiers were easy to fool. And these seemed to be particularly inept soldiers. Nigh untrained. Bloody British were always kidnapping poor sods and inducting them against their will. These ones were very fresh – barely over their hangovers, as it were. Jack grinned. He had plenty of experience operating with a hangover. Posed no problem at all, once he pried his eyes open. He had the definite advantage.

He arrived at Charlotte's hut soon enough and sidled around the back. He could hear everything going on quite clearly.

"…so let's just hope it took this time. I don't want you to do that again."

Anamaria! So they'd let her come to shore, for some unknowable reason. And she was here, with Charlotte.

"When they showed up at the door, I thought poor Will was going to have a heart attack. And right in the middle of it. It was quite comical, actually, seeing him at the end of the bed with his..."

Charlotte's voice was mercifully muffled by Anamaria's protest. "I don't need to hear this!"

Agreed, Jack thought, almost out loud but he saved himself in time. He had no desire to hear any details.

"Poor lad, when they dragged him out of here it was still sticking straight up in the air. Lovely cock he has on him, really. I mean, speaking as a professional."

"Not anymore," Anamaria growled.

"Course not, love. I don't want to have anything to do with the boy, only you. Anyway, I'm sure it worked this time. Once we got that awful uniform out of the way, it was easy, and he was much more business-like about it than Will, so you needn't worry about anything."

Jack fell back, stunned. They'd dragged his Will off, half-naked, in the middle of… and she'd allowed the invading officer to… this was too much. He was going to find Will, make certain he was safe, and then come back and strangle the harlot.

* * *

Jacob DeMaurier looped an arm around Will's waist and helped him down the hall. Will's head spun. The headache was back with a vengeance.

"Not used to quite so much rum, are you Will. Don't worry, it's only a hangover. You'll get over it soon enough. It will help if you drink water. A lot of water, from the looks of it."

"Hangover?" Will let Jacob half-carry him back to the little room. "But why do I have to stay in here? I hate being confined. I want to be topside."

Jacob propped him up on the bed, against the wall. "My dear boy, after the rum we drank last night, I assure you, the last thing you would have wanted is to wake up with the sun in your face." He pushed a flask of water at Will's face, and was pleased to see his step brother drink greedily. "I don't think you're ready for the light of day yet."

Will drank until he could take not more. And he did feel better, but not great. Now he could remember. The two officers in the doorway, telling him to stop. They hustled him out of there and talked in hushed tones for a few moments, making some sort of decision. And then one had gone back into the hut, and the other had handed him his clothes and boots and taken him back to the Dauntless, which now lay anchored in the harbour not far from the Black Pearl.

But there had been some sort of a party going on aboard the Pearl. There was loud music and laughter and Will didn't want to join in. He knew Jack would be drinking and enjoying himself, possibly in ways Will would not want to witness, and he was quite shook up from the experience of being interrupted mid…

Jacob grinned when he saw the deep crimson blush spread across Will's cheeks. The boy was remembering everything from the night before now.

Jacob had arrived the night before and rowed to shore, only to be told the entire story about Charlotte and Will and the baby she wanted and the trouble he had giving it to her. Jacob and Gillette had immediately decided to intervene. After all, Charlotte was his sister's girlfriend, and Will was definitely taken by Jack. And often, judging by the gossip he'd heard all morning.

*****

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