Parts 61-65

Posted: January 2004
Author: Haleth

~~~~~~

The Pirate Way 61 – Frustration

Captain Jack Sparrow's eyes rolled back as he let out a low growl. Will Turner, having covered the entirety of Jack's chest with tiny kisses and gentle nips and wet licks, and having then spent a good five minutes tongue-fucking his navel, now had his nose buried in the glossy black curls at the base of Jack's cock and was laving the loose skin of Jack's bollocks with a flattened tongue.

Jack could, under the right circumstances, be an articulate man. There were some things Jack could describe in great detail, with witty flourish. This was not one of them. The sheer supremacy of this experience could only be communicated by the rolling back of the eyes. And the growl.

Will finished his meticulous tongue bath of Jack's balls and started in on that oh, so sensitive spot where leg met groin, where the light dusting of black hairs tickled his lips as he worried the skin with them. The quivering of Jack's thighs gave him a heady sense of achievement.

Jack reached down to touch Will's smooth cheek. Funny, he hadn't really noticed until now. Will was clean-shaven. Will had shaved himself clean. For the harlot? Now that Jack thought about it, Will was almost clean-shaven on the beach that morning. There was the slightest shadow on his chin, a little bit of roughness on his upper lip, but his cheek was so very smooth.

Jack's fingers slid down Will's cheeks as Will moved up, until they cupped his jawline. Sharp, clean lines under his fingertips. When Will was tense, the line of his jaw sharpened, jutted, cut through the air with indignation or anger. He held it in front of him like a weapon. Jack caressed the line, moving his hands with the jaw. He could feel it drop when Will opened his mouth to take the head of Jack's cock between his lips. Such a heavenly mouth, so warm and welcoming.

It was shy at first. Tentative. But now there was nothing tentative about it. Will swirled his tongue around the head of Jack's cock with his lips clamped around the shaft. Jack struggled to lift his head and felt dizzy when he saw Will staring back up at him with wide, wicked eyes. It always made him dizzy when he saw that. Will always made him dizzy. How lucky could a man be?

Jack dropped his head back down on the ground. There was a soft, pillowy quality to the grass their blanket was spread over, and Jack was grateful for the softness of it, in spite of the fact that he hated to sleep in a tent. Especially a tent perched on the edge of a cliff like this one. He tried not to think about the drop about ten feet to the left and concentrated on the slow, deliberate scrape of teeth along the underside of his cock. Not painful at all, no, just enough pressure to draw out that somewhat embarrassing high-pitched noise. Then it was all softness and tongue and pressure from Will's hollowed cheeks.

But that cliff was there, and there was no telling what waited at the bottom of it. Rocks, most likely. And Jack had a flash of a vision, a snatch of a nightmare, and then Will flew up next to him and was kissing his cheek.

"What's wrong, Jack?"

"Nothing at all, luv."

Will trailed his hand over Jack's flat belly and ran a finger down his warm, wet and inexplicably soft cock. Now, how was that possible? It was right there, inside Will's mouth, and Jack had been enjoying it so much. But it was soft, limp even.

"Are you still worried about the cliff?"

Jack just shrugged.

"Are you still drunk?" Eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"'aven't had a drop, I swear it, since last night."

"Well, then, what's wrong?"

Jack lay perfectly still, willing the question away. He's dreaded it since the beginning, that this might happen. Why it happened now he had no clue. But happen it did, and Jack feared he might have to break it to his young lover that Jack was not a young man. He wasn't old, but he wasn't young either. And he was not perpetually hard, as much as Will might desire it.

Will draped a long leg over Jack's thighs and pushed a clump of hair off his forehead. "Your hair, it's starting to gather itself into braids, all by itself." Will naively? absent-mindedly? tactfully? yes, tactfully was ignoring the situation. He toyed with the twining hair, ran his fingertips through the black strands, straightened it out. "Has a mind of its own," he murmured softly. So softly it stirred something inside Jack.

Jack pulled Will to him for a kiss. He wanted a single kiss. But before their lips could meet he held Will close to him, just tasting his breath. "Your voice," he whispered. "I can feel it so deep inside me. It's like…"

He couldn't finish because Will was kissing him. Not really kissing. More like licking his lips. And all Jack could do in response was let his lips fall open, so Will could lick deeper. Will's tongue traced the opening carefully, surrounded by hot breath. He stubbornly refused to touch his lips to Jack's, and kept up his licking. He stuck his tongue in and let Jack's teeth graze him.

Up to that moment in time, Jack had not been aware that his teeth possessed the ability to feel. Or perhaps he was imagining it. He dug his heels into the ground and pushed his hips up to grind against Will's ever-hard shaft. The boy was insatiable and Jack was going to suffer for this, he knew it, but didn't care. Let the lad fuck him to an early grave. As long as he could get closer, somehow closer, to the heat of him.

Lips came crashing down on his and Jack moaned around the slick tongue in his mouth. Nutmeg and vanilla and sweetness and Will all whirled around in his head. Jack's cock did not just stir. It leapt. It danced. It demanded satisfaction. Jack pulled Will fully on top of him, crushing his arms around Will's back.

They hadn't had the chance to do more that embrace on the beach that morning before separation was imposed. There was unloading of ships and study of charts and news from the outside world to be had. Jacob had learned much about the doings in Port Royal. The fact that a highly wanted mutinous captain had been able to move around the city without alerting the authorities impressed Jack. Until he took a close look at the man.

Jacob's hair was twisted into neat rows, not unlike Matthew's. And he was distinctly darker than Jack remembered him. In fact, he didn't look white at all. Somehow he'd disguised himself as a black man. Perhaps by spending large amounts of time under the hot sun. But it wasn't a disguise at all. He really was. Partially.

Jack remembered Will saying something about Tessie telling him that Jacob had a different father than the other DeMaurier siblings. Brief fling after he first husband died somewhat tragically. All of the siblings had Tessie's regal bearing and handsome features, but Jacob's father had to have been a white man. Yet now, now that he was part of the family again, he seemed to be reclaiming that part of him. And it changed his very looks. It…

"Jack?"

Oh. Will. Lying on top of him. Wearing nothing but a pair of sinfully tight trousers which were getting tighter by the second. And Will's hard cock pressed against Jack's in the most wicked manner.

Except Jack's wasn't hard. It was sort of semi-hard. Drooping a little, if you wanted to be specific about it.

"What. Is. Wrong?"

Jack closed his eyes and sighed. "I suppose I'm rather distractible. I did drink quite a bit last night. Enough to forget the last half of it, at any rate. I don't know how I got from ship to shore."

"You swam. And you could have killed yourself."

Jack gave a weak smile. "Oh, yes. That's it. I must have done myself some sort of damage. Hit myself on the head, as it were."

Will looked immediately anxious. "Are you alright? Are you in any pain?"

He pressed his fingers gently to Jack's temples and began a slow, steady search for bumps. Jack arched his back and pushed into the fingers. Will's fingers on his scalp were heaven. Especially now that his hair was sorted out, more or less. Will could run his fingers right along the surface without any obstacles.

"I'm fine, luv, just don't stop, whatever you do…" Jack moaned.

Soon they were locked in another embrace and Will was wrapping himself around Jack, all long limbs and eager kisses. Jack ground his hips and was delighted to feel his rehardening cock meet Will's with an electric jolt. He had to think of some way to get those pants off the boy.

"Jack, oh, you feel so good," Will panted. "I'm so sorry about last night. I didn't want you to suffer, I was just trying to help Charlotte. Jack? Oh, damn. Not again. I din't mean to remind you, honest…"

Jack kept a tight grip on Will, refusing to let him retreat, refusing to admit defeat. "Stay right where you are, luv. I want to feel you against me." He would not let a mention of the harlot destroy his fun. He would move on, rub against the tight, hard body, that was it… yes, he could stay focused.

He knew about Will and Charlotte being interrupted the night before, knew about him going back to the Interceptor II and getting drunk, knew Will had been saving himself up for the wretched harlot, knew that two days and nights without sex was actually quite a bit for young Will Turner. And the evidence was rubbing against him in a frenzy. Jesus, but the lad writhed like some abandoned wild thing.

Just what had Will done back when Jack was at sea? How had he managed. He remembered the shy confession, after Jack and Will had dressed after their bath together. "I touched myself," Will whispered. "I touched myself and thought of you." How a man could be shy like that after the wanton display in and out of the tub was beyond Jack, but Will pulled it off with aplomb. Whatever could make him shy about touching his cock, when a few hours before he'd been shamelessly fucking his arse with his own fingers?

That's the image that did it for Jack. Cock raging hard he pushed Will to the side and neatly pulled the boy back under him, narrowly but purposefully missing the lantern swinging from the ridgepole. Maybe Captain Jack Sparrow wasn't used to tents pitched on the edge of bloody precipices, but he damn well knew how to make love in tight quarters. He pushed Will's hands up over his head and feasted on the golden flesh displayed before him. Absolutely lovely.

But his ribs were visible. Parallel crests and long, dark hollows. They began just below the rounded chest muscles, made an inverted vee above the rippling abdominals. Jack held Will's hands with one hand, and let the other glide over the ridges.

"You haven't been eating enough, luv," he murmured.

"Who cares about that, Jack?" Will twisted his hips in a futile effort to gain friction against his straining trouser front. "Please! Stop stalling!"

Jack stared down at him seriously. "Will, I need you to take care of yourself when I'm not around. I noticed it before, too. I'm not stalling. Promise me you'll take care of yourself when I'm not here."

Will looked up at him, eyes moist. "I will, Jack. I promise. But you have to take care of me. Now!"

Jack grinned. "Aye, that would be my favourite task of all." And he bent to take Will's mouth. The moan vibrated Jack's teeth, which were again showing an alarming sensitivity.

He traced down the proud jaw, lithe neck, across sharp collarbones, swept down to the hard nipples with his tongue. He pinched and stroked and licked and found himself licking along the edge of the lower rib. How could he have let this happen? Wasn't anyone looking out for the boy in his absence?

"Matthew," Will mewled.

What was that?

"Matthew," Will repeated.

Jack looked up, stunned.

"He was trying to take care of me, while you were gone."

Was Jack thinking out loud again? Only Will ever made him do that.

"He tried to get me to eat more."

Eat more what? So Matthew had been taking care of Will. Jack felt something hot and twisted deep inside. He didn't trust that man. He was wily. And devious. Too good looking. And entirely too tall.

Will buried his fingers in black hair and hauled Jack up to eyelevel once again. "Jack, don't get that look on your face. He's entirely, utterly in love with Alphonse."

Jack had to agree. That did seem to be the case.

"And I am entirely and utterly in love with you. Don't look so surprised, Jack. You know it. So stop being silly and kiss me."

Gladly. Jack busied himself by plunging his tongue into Will's eager mouth. Too too sweet. He wanted something more substantial. He slid down, ripped the pants down and took Will's hot length into his mouth in one easy motion. He'd missed this every night he was away, and the whole time he wasn't allowed to have it. Except for the parts he couldn't remember. And he most probably missed it then too.

Will whimpered beneath him, hands fisted, pulling on his hair, but Jack didn't care. He flattened his tongue and licked up and down the shaft while taking it as deep as he possibly could. His beard beads pressed into the hairy sacs below. Will whimpered louder.

And abruptly softened. Jack, wrapped up in what his was doing, took a moment to connect the sudden tempering of Will's ardour with their immediate surroundings.

"Sorry to interrupt," Matthew coughed from the door of the tent, "but the lights have appeared in the distance, and you said you wanted to see them."

Will sat up quickly and pulled his shirt over his exposed cock. "We'll be right there, thank you."

Damn.

---

The Pirate Way 62 – Investigating

Where was that boy?

Captain Jack Sparrow sat on a folded tent, unwilling or unable to erect it, wondering what was taking Will Turner so bloody long. How long could it take to walk to the stream and fill a bucket with water?

Jack prodded the feeble campfire with a stick. The coals flickered and sputtered, but the thicker wood on top did not catch. He was tired and hungry and tired. He didn't know how much torture a body could endure. Actually, he did know, for he'd endured his fair share. But with Matthew and Alphonse off on their own – ‘scouting' they'd said, as if Jack didn't know what that really meant – Jack was hoping to get the fire going and some food in his belly and the tent pitched so he could crawl inside with Will and, well, do the sorts of things he liked to do with Will when they were alone.

But Jack didn't really know how to put up the tent, and Will was getting water so they could boil some sort of bean or grain thing that Tessie had packed in the bag, all wrapped up in a clean cloth, and the cursed wood refused to catch fire and where was Will?

There he was. He wandered along the path in a daze, water slopping out of the water skin, eyes glazed over. That didn't look right. It didn't look right at all. Will should have been bustling around the campsite setting up shelters and cooking things and making huge roaring fires to cook the food he caught practically with his bare hands.

Of course, in a perfect world he'd be doing all this naked, or at the very least naked to the waist, and there would be no other people within miles and the hot sun would be shining down on his glistening, bronzed naked skin.

But there he was, fully clothed and not so glorious, stumbling a little on the path. Something was definitely wrong.

Jack sprang to his feet and rushed to his lover's side. "Are you ill? Is something the matter? What's wrong, Luv?"

Will turned his head to look at Jack. "I…" he whispered.

"You…" Jack prompted.

"I saw," Will finished cryptically and walked past Jack to the fire with his half-full bucket. He sank down and stared at the pitiful flames. His eyes were wide, an impossibly rich brown, and Jack was reminded, as he was so often, of how much he loved Will's eyelashes. And cheekbones. The stood out high and gave the lashes something to contrast in the early evening light, which consisted of a sprinkling of stars and the little fire. And his lips, curved into a little bow, so soft and pink. They had nothing whatsoever to do with his eyelashes, but Jack had to square with it. There wasn't much to not love on Will's face.

Jack pondered Will's words. Saw what? The flame?

Cursed, bloody flame they were chasing around like a bunch of lost children. They'd spotted it two nights before, from the watch hill. Matthew all but dragged the two of them out of the tent to see the golden lights dancing far in the distance. Jack knew the location of the flicker was close, very close, to the location of the buried cave. They'd watched the lights move and dance and fade.

Then one of those deserters, one of the navy men, the taller one Jack thought, but he could never tell the two of them apart, showed up to take his watch and Matthew had sent him back to inform the village that the four of them, Jack and Will and Matthew and Alphonse, would be investigating the phenomena. And he'd trudged down to the village and back with a few more supplies and a promise to keep watch while they were gone.

He was probably off buggering the other deserter at this very moment. But that's navy men for you.

What followed, in the morning, was a thoroughly miserable day picking their way down the craggy side of the mountain, winding around narrow clefts in the rocks, negotiating hairpin turns and ending up not so far from where they started, except that it was late and the sun was fast disappearing behind jagged peaks and the rain began.

It rained all night, and there wasn't room to pitch a tent, so they had to huddle on a shelf of almost dry rock with the canvas spread over them, and be pounded by cold, sharp rain. All together. Four men. Drenched together with no privacy.

That was the hardest part. Because, Lord knows, Jack like the way Will looked when he was wet. And Will was looking that way to perfection all night long.

His hair curled into ringlets and clung to his damp skin, framing his face in dark chestnut spirals. His eyelashes clumped together a little, so that they looked darker and thicker than ever. His clothes, oh yes, his clothes clung to every curve and plane and change in direction, the white shirt see-through enough to reveal dusky nipples. And the way he sat, hunched under the canvas with his knees drawn beneath his chin, arms wrapped around leather boots that fit him, and suited him, flawlessly.

Jack sighed. He'd felt comfortable putting an arm around Will, to warm him, but he couldn't really go any further with the two other men under the tarp with them.

Then when the sun rose, there was Will. He stood in the centre of the chasm, directly in the warming rays, head tilted back and luscious hair falling back over his broad shoulders, drinking in the light. It made him glow.

But they had to start walking again, and so they picked their way through the labyrinth of rock and sand and the odd patch of vegetation, arguing all the way about how to proceed. They didn't talk about much, other than which path might be most likely to take them closer to the cave in question. Will began to get nervous. They delved deeper into the earth in narrow gorges, and the stone walls rose far above their heads at some points. They considered stopping again, when the air grew cooler and dimmer and the light faded, but Jack insisted they move along, knowing Will could not rest in such a stifling environment.

It seemed a miracle when they took a lucky right turn and emerged into this relatively wide valley, with a stream to the north and a grove of trees to the east. And this clearing at the south end, in which Jack had tried to get a fire going, but the wood, apparently, was still a little damp from the storm of the night before. The high mountains to the south and west prevented the sun from fully drying the grove.

"What did you see, Will?" Jack stroked his back comfortingly. "Tell me."

Will tilted his head and leaned forward. He moved a few things around in the fire pit and the flames leapt up and golden light played across his features. Maybe the wood wasn't so much wet as ill placed. Jack was never all that good with fires.

Will sat back down beside Jack on the folded tent. He didn't look frightened. Or startled. But there was an undercurrent of shock, with a hint of revelation.

So Jack knew what he'd seen.

"Them."

Will shook his head, to bring himself into the present. "Them?"

Indeed, he'd seen them.

Will thought about it. Them. Alphonse and Matthew. They were definitely them.

Jack grinned, a lecherous sort of grin that had frightened Will when they first met, but now gave him a jolt of something hot and grasping. Will saw gold teeth glinting in the now-abundant firelight. "I imagine that would have been quite a sight, eh?"

Will could only nod. He'd walked to the stream, guided by the sound of the water bubbling over pebbles, and filled the bucket. By then the sun had gone down and the grove of trees was a dark splotch to his left and the boulders strewn about the valley to his right were looming in an unpleasant manner. He'd tried to follow along the way he'd come, but it was dark and he was hungry and tired and disoriented.

He was tired because he hadn't had nearly enough sleep the night before. The sitting upright under the tarp had been bad enough, but there was Jack beside him, clearly unwilling to do any more than sling an arm casually over his shoulder. And Jack just looked so good. The dampness made his hair pitch black and shining. It was still twining itself back into clumps and thick, swirling locks, but it looked so neat in the dull light of the lantern, for the little while they kept the lantern lit.

It was an extravagant comfort, having light in the storm, if only for a little while. They didn't have enough oil to not be very careful. But it was worth the cost of the fuel to see Jack so well. His dark eyes glimmered and swept over Will over and over again. His lips were curled into an appreciative smile.

Will, naturally, could not imagine what Jack was finding so enjoyable to observe. After all, he was drenched and crammed under the tarp, probably looking like a drowned rat. His hair, as it always did when it got wet, was rolling itself into ever-tighter curls, spilling out every which way, and his clothes were so soaked they clung to him like a clammy, cold skin, and he was sure he was shivering. But Jack, in spite of being equally cold and wet, looked so relaxed and sure of himself. He didn't let something like a little discomfort upset him at all.

The way his shirt kept falling open, exposing a graceful collar bone and enough smooth, tanned chest to make Will's tongue itch, had all but tortured Will the whole time. Will fervently wished they were alone, so he could taste even that part of Jack's chest that showed.

The thought occurred that he might have still been hard last night from the night before, when Jack had kept getting distracted. He must be bored of Will, already. And Will desperately wanted the chance to prove to Jack that he wasn't boring. There were a few other things he wanted desperately, but under a tarp with two other men was hardly the place.

Except now, sitting by this fire with Jack, he thought that perhaps Matthew and Alphonse wouldn't have minded so much, judging by what he'd just seen.

And Will thought that, judging by the wicked leer on Jack's face, perhaps Jack wasn't so bored with him after all.

Jack was being eerily still, watching him with greedy, sharp eyes. What did he want to know? Oh, yes, what Will saw. But Will couldn't describe what he saw. It wasn't proper. It wasn't genteel. Not that the things Will had been doing with Jack recently were genteel.

He looked into Jack's eyes. ‘Quite a sight'. That was an understatement. Will nodded.

Will wondered what he'd thought. I mean, before seeing what he'd just seen. He couldn't remember what he used to think about Alphonse and Matthew. He remembered when Alphonse appeared on the island he and Jack had been stranded on.

Alphonse arrived in a little boat one morning. He was dressed entirely in black, except for the white collar, neat trousers and boots, and a knee-length frock coat over a slightly dulled black shirt. He stepped out of the boat and toward Will, who was standing stunned on the beach, with a hand outstretched.

"Brother Will," he called out from twenty feet away, "It is a joy to see you so healthy."

The voice was loud, booming even. He was comfortable with it, so it seemed perfectly natural and not like he was trying to impress anyone. Alphonse's black hair stuck out in every direction, but it suited his rather pretty face. The short dreadlocks added the harshness necessary to keep him from looking feminine.

He stared hard at Will, a little too hard, perhaps, but Will didn't feel that he had any right to protest, at the time. This was his saviour, after all. And as they talked, Will found himself confessing to the preacher. Not everything, but he told about Jack and their quarrel, without specific detail. He simply said that they were close, and Jack wanted to get closer, and there were parts of his body he wasn't prepared to get that close to another.

Alphonse didn't seem shocked or even mildly surprised. He just smiled and told Will that he would feel comfortable in time, and that Will was very lucky to have an experienced lover. Will wasn't sure if that was supposed to comfort him, but it did make him think about how much he enjoyed Jack, and how much he wanted to be with the pirate, and Will had decided to give it another chance.

And it was obvious that Alphonse had some sort of experience with two men loving each other, or he would not have been so encouraging.

As they travelled, and stayed with Kay and her family, he'd heard little snippets, hints and clues about someone named Matthew. Someone Alphonse cared enough about to name his boat after, but someone who had been gone or missing for a long time. And when Matthew showed up, after being held prisoner on a slave trader that was being pursued by a naval ship seized by Alphonse's brother, Will could see how happy they were to be reunited.

So, Will supposed, he'd always known what Alphonse and Matthew were to each other. In love enough to yearn for each other when all hope was lost. Serious enough to prompt Jacob to commit mutiny. Intimate enough to spend their nights together, whether it was on land or at sea.

But seeing them. Together. That was something else entirely.

He supposed that people knew about him and Jack. But, except for the few who had happened upon them at particular moments, no one really knew what they did together. Of course, it was common knowledge they were lovers. But knowing two people are lovers and actually seeing what they do together, seeing them together, and Will meant really really together – that was a different thing.

So, he'd wandered off the path and looked into a clearing and there they were. He didn't mean to intrude. He wasn't looking for them. But he couldn't look away.

"Look, either tell me what you saw, or sit the night through grinning like a…"

Will stopped the words with a cupped hand over Jack's mouth. Jack's eyebrows shot up. Will had never done that before. The feel of strong, callused fingers on his cheek, and warm palm over his mouth, made his eye twitch. Will had awfully big hands sometimes.

"Are you sure you want to know?"

Jack nodded eagerly, and it was Will's turn to grin.

---

The Pirate Way 63 - What Will Saw

Two coats were draped over the branches of a gnarled tree, and hung almost as a curtain, blocking the entrance to a clearing among the strange, drooping trees of this grove. Will noticed the jackets, and could not help noticing the gap between the arm of the larger, brown jacket and the faded black frock coat. And what was n the other side of that gap.

Matthew sat by the fire, piling more wood on and stirring a small pot with a wooden spoon. His sleeves were rolled up, his feet bare, and he looked completely relaxed and happy. For some reason, that made Will smile. Matthew was such a nice man, and had suffered far too much. He deserved to be happy.

Alphonse approached the fire. He was stirring something in a shallow wooden bowl. He also looked happy. Will grinned and thought he should go back to the campsite he and Jack had chosen, but somehow his legs wouldn't move.

"This is almost ready," Alphonse said in that booming voice, not as loud as he usually talked, but even if Alphonse were to whisper his voice would still resonate.

"This will take longer," Matthew replied. His voice was also low, but rumbling and a little rough at the edges.

Will was surprised to feel deep, subtle stirrings at the sounds of the two voices. It wasn't as if the two men had said anything exciting, or provocative.

But then he realized that these two men were not just two, random men talking by the fire. The way Alphonse's hand landed so naturally on Matthew's shoulder. The tender look in Matthew's eyes when he looked up at his lover.

"Have you had a chance to talk to your brother?"

Alphonse shook his head. "We have been too busy to speak. I remain curious, of course, as to why he allowed Gillette to have his way with Charlotte, but Charlotte did not seem to mind at all, and Jacob wasn't overly disturbed. I suppose things didn't work out between them the way I thought they might. I thought after all that time on a ship together, he and Gillette would finally get around to... Jacob was never easy to understand. Always the rebel."

Matthew laughed, a low rumble that Will found appealing. "I love your family. I love that him not taking a man for a lover is rebellious. And that the son who joins the navy is the rebel. If more British were like you, then perhaps…" His voice trailed off.

Alphonse knelt at his lover's feet and took Matthew's face n his hands. "You will never be taken again. I will die before any man claims ownership of you."

Matthew smiled gently. "I know, my love. And no one ever shall, for we belong entirely to each other, now. Finally."

To witness such a sweet proclamation of love was warming. But to witness the kiss that followed made Will's blood move faster. The two men joined as one in the firelight, and the intensity of it was palpable from across the clearing.

Will realized he'd never seen two men kiss. Not like that. Oh, he'd seen embraces of the friendly sort, and a kiss or two on the cheek, and Matthew and Alphonse were always holding hands or caressing the other's cheek or giving each other little… oh, my, and Alphonse was pulling Matthew's shirt over his head.

Matthew had filled out quite a bit since leaving captivity. A lifetime of hard work gave him a sturdy, strong frame. Freedom and Kay and Tessie's cooking had done the rest. His broad shoulders were wider than Will's, the muscles rounder and thicker. His arms flickered in the firelight, deep lines between bulging muscles.

Then he turned around, and Will was shocked to see the crisscrossing lines of whip marks, light and pink and ugly, marring the broad back. Alphonse was rubbing his hands over them, smearing on one of those concoctions he and Okonkwo and Matthew were always making. Matthew sighed, and Will could sense the relief. The scars were dry and tight, this cream was loosening Matthew's skin. Will wondered how long it would hurt for, all his life? or would another few weeks of treatment fix the problem?

Alphonse spread the mixture over gleaming skin. "I wish I could make it all go away, the last seven years. If I could go back in time – "

"What? How could you have changed anything? Do you really think there was any other way it could have gone? It was forbidden, Alphonse. It still is. I was a slave: you were a free man, and a student at the seminary. We are both men. Even if you had the money, do you think they would have allowed you to purchase my freedom once they found out we were lovers?"

Alphonse stopped massaging. "No. But I could have stayed away from you, and you would never have been sent north. You told me it wasn't bad at the seminary. They didn't beat you there, they fed you well. Not like what they made you do on the plantation. If it wasn't for me…"

"They would still own me, those filthy priests with their despicable laws." Matthew turned around and gripped Alphonse's upper arms. "Everything happens for a reason, Alphonse. You taught me that. Now I am free, and we are here. Now. Forget the past. Seven years apart, but now we have forever together. That's all that matters to me."

Alphonse shrugged. "You are far more forgiving than me. Perhaps it's best I was expelled. I would not have made a very good man of the cloth."

"You are the best, my love. You've given all these people hope, you never once stopped looking for me, you've helped countless people, enslaved and free. And you even took the time to help your stepbrother."

Will blinked. Stepbrother. That was Will.

"I had a lead on the ship you might be on, but when I received the message from Anamaria, I had to help. And, as it turned out, fate was on our side. When I got to Kay's, the message was there that you were not on the ship I thought. If I had gone after the other ship I might have been able to save a few hundred people, but your ship would have reached its port and you would have been sold yet again."

" Don't forget, Will And Jack and his pirates were rather useful in our rescue, as it turned out. So it is a good thing you rescued them first."

Alphonse nodded. "It's funny. Jacob hated Anamaria most, you know. For years, he hated her for taking up with pirates. His father was a pirate, you know. And it was a pirate who got Marina pregnant, and that was why she left our island and went to work in the brothel. Jacob hated them all."

Matthew smiled again. "Jacob is such a smart man, I don't understand how he could be so simplistic. His father was long gone by the time he was born."

"Jacob curses him for leaving our mother alone."

"But she managed, and she managed most wonderfully, in my opinion. And Anamaria does whatever she wants to do because she's a pirate. It's given her freedom."

"Yes, but her choice of lover… it's always distressed Jacob that his sister prefers women."

"And what of his brother preferring men?" Matthew gave a sly smile.

"That's another issue. I have been a disgrace to him for seven years. He could almost accept it when I chose to be a preacher, but the scandal with you was too much for him."

"And maybe Marina did have to leave town for the shame of being pregnant," Matthew continued, "but you told me yourself it was a customer who got her pregnant. A pirate didn't turn her into a harlot in the first place. Beside that, she's a business woman. She owns the brothel, and from what Charlotte told me, Marina bought the brothel with money from pirates who were buying back the gold pieces they paid her in the first place."

"Cursed gold, from the very same cavern we are seeking now." Alphonse shuddered. "What do you think we'll find?"

"It doesn't matter. Whatever we find, we will deal with. If we find riches, we will have an easier life. If we find pirates, I'm sure you can convince them to join us. If we find nothing, at least we've had a few nights together." His hands crept to the front of Alphonse's shirt. "Right now, there is just me and you and your shirt, and I would be must happier if it were just you and me…" He pulled the black shirt from Alphonse's body and Will had to hold his breath.

Alphonse was built much like Jack, all sinew and slimness and wire. His coffee-coloured skin glowed in the light of the fire, and Matthew's darker hands, like bitter chocolate, traced patterns across the smooth skin.

"I can never see too much of you," Matthew murmured and leaned forward to kiss the smooth chest in front of him.

Alphonse arched back a bit, tilted his head back, eyes shut and mouth open. Will couldn't see exactly what was going on, but by the tingly yearning he felt across his own chest he guessed that Matthew was licking and sucking at Alphonse's nipples.

Will allowed one of his own hands to slide up, tuck into the open collar of his shirt, and find a peaked nipple. The way Alphonse arched sent heat rushing between Will's legs. He was giving himself up to whatever Matthew wanted to do, and Will knew that feeling all too well.

But Will couldn't get his legs to move him further along the path to where Jack was waiting. And Jack must be getting worried by now.

Alphonse had one hand tugging on Matthew's neat braids, and the other reached down to the waistband of the other man's trousers. Will shouldn't have been watching this. It was private. It was indecent. It was spectacular the way Matthew shed his trousers so fast and was standing, with Alphonse before him on his knees, cock in his mouth so fast Will didn't even get a glimpse of it.

Now Matthew was the one with his head thrown back. The muscles quivered up his hard stomach and rippled across his chest. But he didn't grab. His fingers danced lightly over the spikes of Alphonse's short dreadlocks, and Will could almost imagine what the hair would feel like under his palms.

Alphonse's hands were planted firmly on Matthew's arse, and Will watched enraptured as he kneaded the firm flesh and pulled his lover closer. Is that how Jack looked, that time he took Will against the tree? Alphonse was drawn tight, humming with energy and pleasure, intent on taking all of that cock in his mouth. Matthew was shaking all over, and Will could remember clearly the strain of remaining upright while Jack sucked hard and furious.

Matthew's legs buckled, and Alphonse let go, so he could help him lower himself to the ground. Will gasped. Matthew's cock stood out glistening and hard, and so very beautiful, at the apex of powerful thighs. Alphonse hurried to shed the rest of his clothes, and when his cock sprang free of his trousers it bobbed in the air, and Will well knew how that felt.

The two men twined together, and from his vantage Will could see the back of Alphonse, lean and hard, and legs mingling the way they naturally seem to do, so that cocks could line up together at the most enjoyable angle. And wide, strong hands spread over Alphonse's trim arse, and all the low, deep moans seemed to vibrate in Will's chest.

This was definitely wrong. He should not be watching. He should not be seeing something so personal. He should not be sliding his hand into his trousers to grip his hard cock and stroke it like that, lightly, just to encourage it and to stop it from making his head spin.

Matthew and Alphonse were kneeling, now. They faced each other, hands roaming over chests and shoulders and arms and stomachs, so close the heads of their cocks touched. And when fingers pinched at a nipple, or a tongue swept over a sensitive spot, the cocks jerked and moved together, slipping and sliding around each other.

Matthew was long and lean, so long it was impressive, to Will, that Alphonse had been able to nuzzle his nose in the thick, rich black curls at the base. Alphonse was shorter and wider and so thick Will felt his arsehole tighten at the thought of it. The two cocks danced so beautifully.

Will reached further down and squeezed his bollocks gently. He saw the swath of black, tightly curled hair on Matthew's chest. He saw the exquisite curve of Alphonse's thigh shudder. He saw Matthew's lovely full lips close around the top of Alphonse's ear, and watched them move around it, and couldn't hear what he said but saw Alphonse's whole body shiver in delight.

He'd never seen two naked men together. In fact, the only fully naked man he'd seen was Jack. Well, and Shimura, but that was only taking a bath, not making love. And he'd seen Mr. Gibbs one time, accidentally. AN event he wasn't eager to repeat. He'd seen lots of men naked from the waist up. Everyone seemed to doff their shirts when the temperature rose, and straining sweaty muscles were a common site in the camp. But this was something else entirely, and the sight of two cocks bumping and dancing together was unbearably arousing. Will couldn't imagine anything more arousing.

Until Matthew spun around quickly and dropped his hands to the ground and Alphonse bent over him, licking the back of his neck and murmuring things Will couldn't hear but could well imagine.

Matthew's back arched, pushing his arse up against Alphonse's cock. Alphonse sat back on his heels and stared avidly at the dark, round globes. He caressed the skin and squeezed the muscles and bent his head down to taste.

Will stuck on fist in his mouth to stifle his moan. He didn't know anyone else did that. He hadn't, to this point, really considered it. From his viewpoint, anything he did was Jack was only something he and Jack did together. He'd gotten over the shame of it, the discomfort, but he'd never considered that others had the same… oh, the moans. Did he sound like that when Jack did that to him?

Matthew's head hung down in shadow. Will couldn't see the expression on his face, but he didn't need to. His cries were urgent, and guttural and made Will want to spread his legs. Words came out, every now and then, and they made Will blush. Words like "deeper" and "open up" and something in Matthew's native language that Will could not understand, but Will was pretty sure would translate into "I love the feel of your tongue inside me."

Will could see Matthew's cock, for the firelight struck it in such a way that the moisture at the tip glowed like its own fire, and he found his mouth yearning for a taste of it. His own cock was leaking, as it always seemed to do. Will thought it was a bit odd, a bit embarrassing that he dripped so much, but now he was grateful, for all he had to do was rub his fingers over the head and raise them to his lips. His own flavour exploded in his mouth, not as good as Jack, but good enough to make him want more.

Matthew was shaking all over now, and Will wanted to shout, wanted to tell Alphonse to reach around, that Matthew needed his cock touched, but Alphonse's fingers dug into Matthew's hips and he kept licking and stabbing and doing whatever it was he was doing.

Until Matthew cried out and pitched forward. Alphonse lurched with him, keeping his mouth firmly planted on that lovely arse, and Matthew was on his elbows with his legs spread wide, moaning ever louder, and just when Will thought he couldn't take any more he couldn't. And that lovely cock twitched and jerked and then exploded, and Will gasped and watched the somewhat stringy whitish release as it clung to Matthews cock and the ground below and only then did Alphonse's hands slide around the front and stroke the length of it. He gathered what he could of the release in his hand and reached between his own legs to coat his own fat cock with it.

Matthew shifted from side to side, digging his knees into the earth for support, and moaned loudly when Alphonse straightened and rubbed his slick cock, guided by his fist, around what had to be his extremely sensitive arsehole. Alphonse's hips moved in a delicious circle as he teased his lover. Matthew, still panting and shaking, barked out something harsh and Alphonse plunged forward and the two were joined.

Will was weak in the knees. He had to grip the base of his cock to keep from spilling in his pants. Alphonse rocked back and forth, and each forward thrust of his was met by a backward thrust from Matthew, so the two of them were fucking each other equally.

Will staggered back from the view. He should not be watching this at all. Not when he knew that Jack was waiting for him, and would be worried or at least wondering. He tore himself away from the scene before him. He didn't need to see anymore. What he'd already seen had affected him enough. It was difficult to walk on the barely discernable path. He could find his way in the dark, but his cock was so hard he had to walk funny to accommodate it. It ached, and his arse ached, and his nipples ached, and his tongue ached, and his whole body needed to be touched.

As he stumbled along he wondered about what he saw. He'd thought it might be, but he hadn't know for sure that it was possible to climax just from being tongued like that. And the sight of Alphonse behind Matthew, sinking his cock in deep, was just too much for him to take. He was rather incoherent when he finally reached Jack, causing Jack some concern, but Jack was experienced and figured out what Will had witnessed without Will having to use many words.

But now, as Will was telling the story, or trying to because it was difficult finding the right words and Jack's lips kept getting in the way, and Jack insisted on acting out parts of it as Will told it, he was breathless and shaking and needing so much more than words.

Naked. He was absolutely naked and sprawled out across the unfolded but yet-to-be-erected canvas of the tent. And Jack was naked too, and hard as a rock. His eyes were gleaming, his mouth wet with saliva, as he'd just been sucking on Will's cock, and his voice had a little shake to it, underneath the confidence and the swagger of it all.

"So now, dear William, the question is this. You looked, you saw, you were aroused. But what is it that seeing all that make you want, eh?"

Will shook his head and tried to think. What did he want? He wanted Jack. And that was all he could think to say. "You," he said, "I want you. To do… with you."

Jack grinned and nodded and stroked his hand over Will's quivering thigh. "Ah, yes, of course. But Will, luv, think harder. Do you want me to do with you, or do you want to do with me?"

---

Part 64 - What Will Wants

Will Turner thought about the question. ‘Do you want me to do with you, or do you want to do with me?'

Do to, be done to; these were too specific. Will wanted so badly it was universal. It was all encompassing. He couldn't distinguish what he wanted to do from what he wanted to feel from what he wanted to taste from what he wanted done to him. He wanted it done!

"Come on, let's have it," Jack hissed in his ear.

Will looked at Jack's face and saw Jack's eyes. They were glowing. He thought of everything he wanted. He couldn't say it all. It would take too long, and he would sound terribly greedy. His mouth gaped open, soundlessly.

Jack grinned wickedly, but his hands shook, belying the lechery. "I want to hear you say it, Will." And it was true. He could have shut up and done just about anything with the lad at that moment, and Will would have been thrilled. But Jack, ever wanting more, ever the pirate, craved the words. He didn't want this to be another case of Will Turner losing control and doing what felt natural. He wanted Will to take or give or do purposely. Of his own volition. With intent.

Oh, and he also wanted to hear Will beg. But begging was not essential. That could wait for another time, if need be.

Brown eyes darted around, looking for escape? Inspiration? Jack ran a hand up Will's side. So smooth. So golden. Will trembled under his fingers.

But then he was pushing Jack, pushing him up onto his knees. Jack allowed himself to be pushed, straightened, enjoyed the feel of wide, strong hands on his shoulders and thighs and wait a minute, when did he say he wanted to be standing?

Standing was acceptable, however, when Will Turner was kneeling at his feet.

Will looked up at Jack, with his teeth sinking into his lower lip. "I…" his mouth opened. Hot breath jarred Jack's nerves where is caressed his hip. "I want you to teach me."

Teach him. What on earth could Jack possibly teach him? The boy was a natural.

"I want to…" The soft voice trailed off and Will was looking down, blushing. His hands gripped Jack's thighs, and Jack had a thought. He thought he might have gone too far. He might have inadvertently brought back all that timidity and prudery and indignation. Which made his cock twitch and bump Will on the cheek – really not the thing to do to someone when you want him want to get over his shyness.

But the memories of Will's first real kiss, which had been with Jack, and his first orgasm at the hand of another, performed by Jack of course, and his first, well, his first everything… all those memories flooded him and made him harder, which was what made his cock twitch. Blushes and eyes wide with discovery and awkwardness. Unpractised hands and fingers and tongue and lips. Halting words spoken in that maddeningly soft voice.

Fingers stroked the length of Jack's erection. Gentle but firm, and so very knowing. This was no blushing virgin, not anymore. But Will was still having trouble saying the words. And Jack felt deliciously wicked at how much more aroused that made him.

"I want you to teach me how to…" Will took the head of Jack's cock into his mouth. His tongue swirled over it; his lips gripped the shaft just below the head just right. Fingers encircled him, squeezed him just so. Just so.

Jack moaned. "Oh, you already know, luv, you already know."

Will pulled his head back with an unplanned slurping sound. "No, not that. I want to take all of you."

He looked so much like an eager young pupil. Except Jack had never been that eager for studies. Jack had only ever been that eager the time his riding instructor had taken him out to the… never mind about that, he told himself. Focus on now!

The mouth was back on him, and pulling him deeper. Jack let his fingers wander over Will's head, through soft, thick curls, and down over his temples. A vein stood out there, as if from the effort of Will's actions. How delightful. He dropped his fingers down to the place where Will's jaw opened. He massaged briefly, gently, coaxing the joint open.

"That's it, luv, you have to open up. Relax, don't rush it." Heavens no, don't rush at all. Jack wished he could do this all night. Just stand here with that incredible wet heat surrounding him, and those incredible curls gliding under his palms, and those hands rubbing nervously up and down his tensed thighs. He felt the jaw drop open under his fingers, and he slid deeper into Will's mouth, right to the back.

Teeth grazed and he shuddered. Will started to withdraw, but Jack's fingers tightened on his scalp and kept him from backing off too far. "Not to worry, eh. Just a little teeth, is all."

But Jack really wanted to feel them again.

Will concentrated on breathing through his nose, on relaxing his jaw so it wouldn't cramp, on the feel of coarse, wiry hairs under his palms and the smell of musk and sweat and Jack.

This was it. This was as much of Jack's cock as he had ever been able to take in his mouth. There was, he knew, even though his hands were firmly gripping Jack's thighs, several fingers worth of cock left to go. He usually kept three fingers and his thumb wrapped snugly around the base, so Jack would at least have friction and pressure on his entire length, even if it did not all come from Will's mouth.

Will tilted his head and slid his lips along the satiny skin. The vein throbbed against his tongue. When he felt pressure in his throat, when he feared he might gag, he stopped and rested, letting his jaw hang open. Another finger, maybe a finger and a half to go. He slid his hands up to feel the vibrating muscles of Jack's stomach, and awaited instruction.

Jesus, wasn't this enough? Jack wasn't breathing. If he breathed he might explode, spew into the boy's mouth, and that wouldn't be very conducive to Will learning now, would it? Will was paused in mid suck, throat tight against Jack's cockhead, not moving. Warm air flowed out over the base of Jack's cock from Will's nose. How long had they been frozen like this? Jack couldn't tell. He had half a mind to stop, tell Will that was enough, because if Will learned how to take Jack deep into his throat, well then Jack would be lost. He couldn't handle that amount of pleasure at once, he was sure of it.

But the thought of Will's throat opening up for him…

"Tilt your head just a little, that's it," Jack grunted. Docile, Will was moving his head, opening his jaw, letting Jack position him. "Can you relax your throat? Let your tongue press down, yes. It's like letting a drink flow down, you have to –" he felt the jaw open impossibly more, a split second before, "- ahh!" Jack's fingers gripped hair, his thigh's shook and his mouth dropped open.

Will thrilled to the feel of the cockhead pressing and not making him gag. He dropped his shoulders, closed his eyes, just let the hard flesh press into him. And then his lips brushed against soft curls and his nose was touching, actually touching Jack's belly, and he felt his throat constrict around the bulk inside it and Jack made a noise he'd never heard Jack make before.

Will tried to purr, found it was impossible with a cock wedged in his throat, so he just hummed, and could feel the vibrations around Jack's cockhead. And heard yet another noise he'd never heard from Jack.

Jesus. The boy would indeed kill him, if he let him keep this up. Jack fought to stay upright, fought to stay conscious, fought to not make that noise but he couldn't stop it. And he wasn't even moving. A hot, velvet throat encased him, massaged him, made him want to scream, but he had enough control to not do that.

Or not.

Will's head moved and Jack thought his cock might not be attached to his body anymore. It seemed a thing apart. A thing of its own. Because Will pulled back, so his lips dragged over slippery hard flesh and Jack's cockhead left his throat and reentered his mouth and Jack took a huge, gasping breath. And then he moved again, and Jack's cock nestled itself even further into Will's throat, if that was possible. It was only this illusion of detachment that kept Jack from flying into a million pieces.

That and the fact that his cock was now so hard it sent sharp, aching shivers down his thighs. It shouldn't have been possible to get any harder, for any more blood to flow into his cock and not flow back into his body. But it did. It did because Will was moving now, back and forth along his cock, at a slow enough pace to make Jack hiss. And the strangely exciting pain of it kept him from releasing right then.

"I think…" Jack made one of those noises again. He couldn't tell which one. "You've got it, luv," he grunted.

But he didn't. Not yet, at least. Will was frustrated. There was something not right. Oh, he was taking the cock right into his throat, and he'd figured out the precise angle that allowed him to do it without gagging. And it felt so good to have Jack so deep inside him, so intimate, so personal. But still…

Will flexed his fingers on Jack's thighs. They were hard, unyielding beneath his touch. Every muscle was tense. The hands in his hair pulled, clenched tightly, causing something like pain.

Will got it.

He stopped rocking back and forth on his knees. He stopped dragging his mouth up and down the hot shaft. He stopped holding Jack still. Instead he pushed.

Jack gasped. Will pushed him until his cock slid out of Will's wide open mouth. And then he pulled, so his cock slid easily back into Will's throat. Jesus have mercy on him, he would not survive the night. The boy wanted Jack to fuck his mouth.

And, when you thought about it, who was Jack to argue?

He braced his feet on the soft earth, spreading toes dug into the softness of it. He released his grip on Will's hair and spread his fingers across his scalp. And he fucked. Not brutally, not like he was using the mouth, no, not like that. He flexed his hips and rolled them forward and tilted them back and it was like riding waves or surviving a storm or walking on a narrow beam. Tightrope. Something you do have to do because if you don't something worse will happen. And it doesn't matter how much you think you might expire from it and how badly the tension is going to do you in, you just do it.

Will groaned around the thick cock in his mouth. Oh, yes, this was what he wanted. Jack's cock was sliding in and out of his mouth, all saliva and hardness and perfect rhythm. So very perfect. Every thrust pushed deeper inside, and Will felt his throat open up to take the demanding flesh. He tried to look up, to see Jack, but everything was blurry.

Jack opened his eyes and looked down just in time to see Will's eyes open. They were wet, from the effort, from something, and it made Jack shudder and clench inside, right before he was lost. Will became a blur as Jack's final thrust sent him so deep Will's nose pressed into him painfully, and Jack howled.

Will felt the cock pulse in his mouth, and his throat clenched around the head of it, and he knew Jack's seed was pumping into him but he couldn't taste it at all. Jack's hands were painful against his scalp and he couldn't breath, but this wasn't about breathing. Jack pulled back suddenly, in time for Will to catch the last jet of hot salt on his outstretched tongue.

Jack wavered on the edge of consciousness for what seemed like hours, but it was only the time it took for that last gush of seed to coat Will's tongue. He blinked hard and forced himself to look. Will's eyes were closed again, and his mouth was still open as Jack's cock slipped past his lips. He was kneeling with his legs spread wide, arms hard and shaking as he gripped Jack's legs. That was the only thing keeping Jack upright.

It didn't last long. Jack slithered to the ground, onto his knees, facing Will, who still had his eyes closed, but his lips were quite so far apart anymore. He was panting, out of breath from his efforts. But he was shaking as well, and it didn't take much effort to see why.

That magnificent cock was pointing straight up at Jack, vibrating and leaking and doing all the things he loved to see Will's cock doing. But there was one more thing he wanted to see. So he managed to lower himself far enough to reach out with his tongue and touch the very tip of it.

Will growled and shook and erupted. Jack knew it wouldn't take long, but he wasn't prepared for the speed and force of it. One simple lick and lovely tasty release sprayed against his lips and he opened them to catch it all. Will's thighs quavered before they collapsed and Will was lying on his back with his legs bent under him. It couldn't be comfortable, but that wasn't the point of it at all, thought Jack.

Jack hovered over Will, lapping at the last bits of spilled seed and the shuddering still-hard cock. He reached under Will's thighs and pulled them up, pushed them up until Will could straighten his exhausted legs. And then he gave Will's cock one last kiss before sprawling on the ground next to his lover.

Will's eyes were unfocussed. His lips were swollen. His throat must be tender as hell, Jack thought, before he lay his head an Will's chest and fell asleep listening to the pounding of Will's heart gradually slow to it's normal, steady pace.

A few minutes later, Alphonse stepped gingerly over the limp, drained bodies. He'd heard a noise. Actually, he'd heard a lot of noises, but that last one worried him a little. It sounded almost pained, but not distressed. And he had a feeling they wouldn't be conscious for long after one of them made a noise like that.

He couldn't exactly tell which one had made it, but he guessed it was Will, because the howl right before it had sounded like Jack. It woke Matthew, who mumbled something about checking on the boy to see if he was all right. Alphonse pulled the blanket up over his lover and kissed Matthew's cheek and told him not to worry. But Alphonse worried, so he crept across the valley and did check.

Silly men. They should know better than to fall asleep naked in the open like that. There was no telling how cold it might get in the night. His mother would never forgive him if her stepson and his lover succumbed to exposure. He unfolded the light tent and dragged the canvas over the two men, but not before taking a moment to look on their twined bodies.

Will had one leg thrown over one of Jack's legs, and an arm around his back, with fingers resting lightly on the single exit wound there. Alphonse grimaced. He'd seen the two entrance wounds in the front. The way Will's fingers rested there, as if they knew even while the rest of Will slept, was sweet. He was protecting him. Jack had his head on Will's chest, arm curled up so his fingers tangled in Will's hair. He nuzzled against the chest in his sleep, and he pushed his top leg forward, between Will's legs, and they met up together in the middle. Alphonse couldn't see much detail. It was to dark and the hair was too close in colour and texture and the two softened cocks lined up so perfectly, either one of them could have belonged to either of the men.

Alphonse covered them both as best he could and walked silently back to where Matthew waited for him. All was well.

---

Part 65 -

Chapter 65 - Brothers

A long, slender hand shaded lovely brown eyes, which were surrounded by whisper soft, yet thick, black lashes. "Do you think they are safe up there?"

Scrape of canvas on rock, packs being rearranged, and the scuff of a leather boot on the bare earth.

Will Turner looked up the sheer face of the cliff. His vision was distorted by blinding rays of sun leaking over the summit, but he could see ropes dangling, and legs swinging, and loose rock falling. He averted his face, so the bits of broken stone landed in his hair, not his eyes. "Safer than we are down here, I'll warrant."

He stepped back from the cliff to stand beside Alphonse. From this vantage the sun did not burn so much, and he could see Jack, far above, as he wedged a bare foot into a crevice in the rock face. Matthew hung below him, half held up by his hands on the rock, half hanging from a taut rope.

Alphonse was tense. His face creased with lines of unease, his shoulders held stiffly and every muscle seemed coiled to respond to any threat, although it was patently obvious there was nothing he could do if anything went wrong, not from down there.

Will placed a large hand on his slender shoulder. "No one can scale rigging like Jack. I doubt a rock face is all that different from a mast." But he couldn't help a twinge of worry when Jack swung himself, recklessly it seemed, to his right abruptly to grasp an outcropping of rock.

Jack was all loose limbs and wiry muscles and gripping fingers and toes. It was astonishing to watch. He undulated along the face of the rock, conforming to every outcropping, slithering into cracks and finding solid handholds where none could be seen. And he was smiling. He enjoyed this sort of thing.

Matthew was holding his own, although he did not appear to be enjoying himself nearly as much. Taller than Jack, heavier than Jack, less fluid than Jack, he had to rely on the ropes Jack tied above. But if he had any doubts about trusting the pirate he didn't show them. He climbed well, he climbed high, and Alphonse was caught between admiring his courage and strength, and fearing for his precious life.

"Don't worry, Alphonse. Jack knows what he's doing." Will gave a brave smile. But just because Jack was competent, it didn't mean Will had to like it. "Don't watch, if it bothers you."

Alphonse just nodded and stared back at the gap in the rock they had squeezed through to reach this point. "I don't believe we'll be able to go back by the same way."

Matthew was climbing, and as he was stripped to the waist in the noon heat of the day, Will was watching rippling muscle and shining skin and the most fascinating ridges of abdomen he'd ever seen. His hand went unconsciously to his own stomach. It was flat, and had some ridges when he strained, but not in the same manner. He probably couldn't help his mouth dropping open a bit like that.

Alphonse saw it, and spun around to see what Will was gaping at. Ah, yes. Of course. The boy had never seen Matthew quite like that before. Interesting. The muscles his lover used to climb the rock face seemed to be very similar to the muscles he used when they … Alphonse cleared his throat.

Will jumped. "Sorry, I uh, I didn't mean to stare like that. It's just that, he is, well…"

Alphonse laughed, that alarmingly deep laugh. "Not to worry, my brother. I understand better than anyone else. He is… magnificent."

Alphonse said it with a sense of awe in his voice. What would it be like to have someone speak of him in that tone? Will wondered just how wrong it was for him to be admiring his stepbrother's lover like that. He wondered if the warmth he felt stirring inside him at the sight of that hard body with it's sweat-slicked skin was a mortal sin or a misdemeanour. The only person remotely qualified to answer that question was standing next to him, and Will was not fool enough to ask it of him.

Jack shouted something that the wind obscured. Matthew nodded, and unhooked another coiled rope from his belt before tossing it deftly up to the pirate. Jack caught it and wound it around his waist.

Between his embarrassment for having been caught ogling Matthew and the jolt of unexpected pleasure he got from the actual ogling, he must have lost track of what was happened. For the next thing Will knew Jack was flinging himself across the gulf between two cliffs and, it seemed to Will from his vantage point on the ground, just barely managing to hang on.

Matthew shouted encouragement at the same time Will's cry of alarm rose up. A steady hand stopped Will from leaping forward, for all the good his leaping would have done. "Shh, Will, you were right. Jack knows exactly what he's doing." Alphonse was watching the pirate admiringly.

The wind on the top of the cliff whipped Jack's shirt around his slim figure, made his sinewy arms stand out, pressed the material flat against his chest. Jack was laughing, tying ropes and testing bonds and catching various bits of gear as Matthew tossed them up across the gap to him. He was weaving some sort of intricate system for hauling the rest of the men and the gear up the mountain. He didn't seem to have to even think about the logistics of it, he just tied the knots and looped the rope and knew what he was doing.

"We would never be able to scale that cliff without Jack," Alphonse said quietly.

Will turned to look at his stepbrother. Pleased as he was that Jack's worth had been recognized, the way Alphonse was staring up at, the look in his eyes, stirred something different inside him.

Alphonse laughed again. "No need for jealousy, Will. I am no more apt to desire Jack than you are to desire Matthew." He winked slyly, and began to move the packs to the base of the second cliff.

Will followed after him dumbly.

* * *

Will let Jack pull him over the top of the cliff. Even with the ropes it was an arduous climb. Will had no idea how Jack had made it up so easily. The strong hands felt good on his arms as he was hauled over the lip, and even better when one of them slipped inside his shirt and patted his heaving chest. Will sat to catch his breath.

"See, that was easy, eh?" Jack laughed in his ear. It was a joyous laugh, and the pirate sank behind Will gracefully. Lean legs pressed up against Will's thighs and a hard chest pressed against his back. "Not so bad at all." The words were murmured low and soft in his ear, along with hot breath. Hands rested on his waist. Lips on his neck, not pushing just pressing tenderly. And a little tongue along the stream of fresh sweat under his chin. "Mmmm."

Matthew pointed to the west, at the jagged rocks that lay before them. "It's there, we're sure of it. That is where the lights come from. But the way is treacherous. We should wait for nightfall and see precisely where they come from."

Alphonse nodded. "I don't wish to cross those rocks in the wrong direction. We will conserve our strength and get our bearings tonight. Look, the sun is falling fast." For as far as they had climbed up, they were still in the shadow of the mountain.

Jack nodded. "I'll get that other rope." He unglued himself from Will's back and gripped the thick rope tied to the outcropping at the top. "Only be a minute, luv." And then he disappeared over the edge.

Will cried out and lunged, but Matthew leapt to his side to keep him from tumbling over the edge. Will was acutely aware of the thick muscles he was pulled against when Matthew grabbed him. Broad rounded chest muscles, and thick arms and solid legs and a musky scent so different from Jack's, but it seemed to affect him in the same way. He shook himself loose.

Jack's head appeared at the edge of the cliff again. "Here you go," he sang out and tossed a rope over the lip. He pulled himself up onto the plateau again. "And as much as I enjoyed that, I suggest we move as far from the edge as possible before we set up camp. I don't mind scaling cliffs, but I don't fancy pitching off one in my sleep, savvy?"

"Used to a safer place to bed down?" Matthew chuckled.

"Nothing safer than sleeping on a ship. The sea is a trustworthy cradle. Sleeping on land makes me nervous." Jack untied the final rope. "Sleeping next to where the land falls away strikes me as foolhardy, eh." He swaggered off, the economy and grace of the climb left behind as he listed dangerously.

Will shook his head. He would never get used to the way Jack changed like that. From strong and straight to an almost drunken stupor in no time at all.

Alphonse was next to Will, smiling. "You should have seen him that night. I saw him dive off the Pearl to go rescue you. He had the same reckless, perfect way about him. And then, once you were fine…"

"What?" Will found he did not appreciate the insinuation that there was something wrong with the way Jack was normally. Well, normally for Jack. And that it was something that could only be corrected if Will needed help in some way. That was not… not flattering to him or Jack.

"He's amazing," Matthew added. "Did you see how he leapt across there? I could never have done that!"

Will was pleased again, but then he saw the way Matthew was watching Jack as he recoiled the ropes and worked out the last of the complicated knots. Jack's forearms were glistening, and the vein that Will loved so much was standing out starkly, on the inside of his elbow. Will knew that Matthew saw it too, right above the tattoo of the sparrow.

Right above the ‘P' brand. The crinkled skin bent and twisted as Jack wound the end of the rope through the coil to secure it. It made Jack's tan look even darker. It was a constant reminder. Jack flipped the rope over his forearm and lifted a heavy pack and the vein popped out more.

Matthew made a little noise, nothing that could be identified or repeated, more of a breath than a noise, actually.

Will frowned.

* * *

Will was splitting firewood with an axe, sleeves rolled up, shirt half-open. Jack was watching Alphonse watch the smooth motions, the hints of smooth chest. Will bent to one side to pick up an unsplit piece of wood and the shirt slid, gracefully, over his shoulder. Exposing said shoulder. And an expanse of tanned, toned chest. And a single, ruddy nipple.

Jack didn't like Alphonse seeing that. He didn't want anyone else to see that. He wanted to be the only person on the planet to see Will Turner's nipple. Because the glimpse of the nipple, and it was only a short glimpse at that, gone the second Will straightened again, made Jack's throat go dry.

It was, in his estimation, the loveliest nipple he'd ever seen. Except for, perhaps, the one on the other side of Will's chest. No, the one that had been exposed was the loveliest, for it was the one on the left side, and when Jack took it between his lips he could feel the pounding of Will's heart against them. And that was all his. Alphonse would never get to feel that.

So let him look at the bloody nipple. He wasn't getting it. He wasn't licking it. He wasn't tugging on it oh so tenderly with his teeth and making Will purr. He was just looking at a single, errant, rosy, perfect nipple.

* * *

"That's it," said Matthew, and he scrawled something on a flat rock with a broken stone that left chalky white marks behind.

Jack snatched the stone from his hand. "I think this is more accurate, mate." And he left another mess of curious scribblings Will could not decipher.

"That's an interesting way to put it," Alphonse said. "I never would have thought to…"

"Do you want to be able to find it in the morning or not?"

"Matthew's way is simpler."

"But Jack's way is more precise than mine," Matthew said. "Why are we arguing? With the two sets of directions, we are sure to find it."

Will looked at both sets of markings. He could read. He could write. He could read maps. But neither of the scribblings made any sense to him, until he saw that there were squiggles in Matthews drawings that seemed to bear no relation to letters or numbers. And Jack's markings contained a good deal of numbers and arrows. Perhaps he was tired and they would make sense in the morning.

He squinted up at the dancing lights as they played over the side of the next mountain. They swirled over the grey rocks in an ever-changing pattern, as if the light were reflected off water.

"Might just be the moonlight reflecting off a pond."

Everyone turned to look at Will. And shook their heads.

* * *

Alphonse softly sang a tune, rich and deep, as he cooked a delicious-smelling stew. It wasn't a bawdy, pirate song such as Will was used to hearing from the crew of the Black Pearl. And it wasn't one of those stiff hymns they sang in church, like the ones he remembered from the few times he'd been dressed up and taken to church as a lad. No, this was deeper and richer. Matthew joined him in singing, and Will realized it was a traditional song from Matthew's home. He didn't understand the words, but it sounded like a song Okonkwo had sung to him when Will was recovering from his near-drowning.

Alphonse smiled at Matthew and kept singing, the same melody and but different words this time. Matthew laughed and ladled some of the stew into a dish.

"It's about the hunt," Matthew explained to Will, as Alphonse kept singing and Matthew handed Will a plate of food. "It is a song asking that they be rewarded with a short chase and plentiful meat. But Alphonse has changed a few words…"

Jack snickered from where he was rooting through a pack off to one side.

‘How could you possibly know what he's singing?" Matthew demanded, but with a smile lingering on his face. "You don't know my language."

Jack grinned. "Doesn't matter what language you sing it in, mate. I can tell a dirty song when I hear one."

"It's not dirty!" Matthew protested.

Alphonse changed the pitch a bit, and the rhythm tripped over itself. Jack smirked again, and Matthew burst out laughing. "Maybe it is a bit…"

Will had no clue what was going on, except that that last change in rhythm had given his stomach a lurch, and Alphonse's voice was low, low enough to be a growl. When he looked at Alphonse he could not reconcile this man, with his shirtsleeves rolled up and his easy laugh, with the preacher he'd met on the beach.

Dark eyes flashed at him, and the grin was as wicked as any Jack had granted him. And Will could not dispel the image of Alphonse on his knees in front of Matthew.

Matthew walked back to the other side of the fire and bent to silence Alphonse's song with a distinctly possessive kiss. "Enough," he whispered, barely loud enough for Will to hear.

Will swung his head to look at Jack, who had found whatever he'd been looking for and was muttering an off-key off-colour song about a barmaid, a sailor and a cat. The other three men burst out laughing together, and made Will feel very young and unworldly. Both songs, the one he did not understand and the one he understood all too well, were meant, it seemed to him, to make him feel so.

And why wouldn't they? He was just a poor inexperienced blacksmith who hadn't left Port Royale since he arrived, until two years ago when Captain Jack Sparrow showed up had introduced him to, well, everything.

Matthew was from the other side of the world, and had been a warrior at home, a captive when he was brought across the ocean, a slave, a slave rebellion leader and now… Will didn't know what he was now but he was, as Alphonse said, magnificent.

Alphonse, his own brother, had been a preacher, a teacher, and now was a wanted man, who'd travelled the ocean in search of his lover on an impossible quest. And succeeded.

And Jack.

Jack.

Jack was the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow.

* * *

Will did not hear Matthew whisper.

"He is beautiful, is he not?"

He did not hear Alphonse whisper back.

"Do not be ridiculous. He's my brother."

* * *

The fire was close to dying, and Jack rested peacefully in Will's arms, face illuminated softly by the dying embers. He wasn't sleeping, not yet, but his breathing had slowed and his face relaxed and his arms slackened and he was enjoying the feel of leaning against the solid and stalwart Will Turner. To be nestled between those endless legs was a pleasure he'd never dreamed he would be enjoying like this, fully clothed but close as ever.

Will's eyes traced the line of Jack's cheek, the curve of his lip, the way his thick black lashes spread over the line of smeared kohl. So that was what Jack had been rummaging for in his pack. His kohl. Will could study Jack's face for days, he decided. Heavy black locks spread over Will's chest. Locks that continued, as the days wore on, to wind themselves into heavy ropes. Will fingered the little bundle that hung from Jack's belt, baubles and jewels and bits of a life wrapped in a worn, faded red scarf. He pulled the roll free from its bindings.

"Hey, what're you up to, eh?" Jack muttered, his comfortable rest interrupted by shifting chest muscles. Not that he minded shifting chest muscles.

Will dropped the bundle between them and the fire. "You're a pirate, Jack," he said simply, and shook the cloth so the contents spilled out onto hard ground. He gathered a handful of round beads. "So let's put these where they belong."

Alphonse padded back to the camp, satisfied that nothing was stalking the immediate area. He saw Matthew sitting with legs drawn up, chin on his knees, watching the pair on the other side of the fire.

Will and Jack knelt facing each other, fingers tangled in Jack's hair. The glint of metal and glass. The rattle of a line of beads as Will tossed them over Jack's shoulder, out of the way so he could weave a thin chain in a lock of hair. Jack murmured something that made Will laugh softly, and Jack looked at Will's smiling face with something very much like awe in his eyes.

"Finally." Alphonse sat beside Matthew, who only nodded and kept watching. Somehow it was more intimate to see this than seeing the two of them naked together.

*****

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