Parts 66-70

Posted: February 2004
Author: Haleth

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Chapter 66 – Izcatqui - (Just in case anyone is interested, Izcatqui is an Aztec word that means "this is it".)

By the sanction and blessing of Chantico I rule this cavern, as she is my champion. And so it is with the light of the fire she governs that I lure these four to me to receive their due punishment.

Izcatqui. Here it is. This is it. Where the treasure lies. Mine. I give it up for no one.

Youngest of the gods I may be, but I still have power. Aocmoilhuicpa I am called, because there is no more to tell, and no more to tell it. The people my champion so loved are now gone to Mictlan, where they do not belong. There is no more to tell because those who would tell it have been silenced forever.

Worshipped her, they did. Their villages and lands were dedicated to the power of Chantico, their patron Goddess of Hearth Fires and Volcanoes. They honoured her with their devotion and love. Shrines and sacrifices they made, and she was gratified by their faithfulness. She rewarded them, kept their lands, though surrounded by the Fire of the Earth, safe from destruction. They lived in the heart of Volcanoes and prospered.

Until Cortez.

The whole of the valley succumbed to him, when all was said and too much done. Children worked to death. People beaten and starved. Mictlan is the home of all the dead except women who died while creating new life and warriors. But Mictlan was suffused with the people of Chantico's lands before their time. Girls who will never give life. Ones who should have been warriors but died as boys. Far too young to make the journey. It is wrong, and Mictlantecihuatl wept to accept them within her borders.

Chantico begged the Lady, begged Mictlantecihuatl to allow her vengeance on the invaders. But the Lady did not want her realm swelled with the ranks of yet more undeserving, for she knew that Chantico's powers unleashed would destroy more than they would save, and that the retribution of Cortez would be swift and merciless.

She was persuaded, however, to give birth to me. For only the Goddess of the Realm of the dead could procreate a spirit intended only for revenge.

The wise and honourable Mictlantecuhtli would have no part of it. He desires not a rival for his power. So his wife sought another sire, one who would create with her a instrument for punishing those who take what is not theirs, who hunt without thought, who would kill for sport or profit, who swarmed over the lands of Chantico like a plague. One who would understand these aggressors.

Thus my sire, Yacatecuhtli, the God of Merchant Adventurers, who felt his realm fouled by these vermin, these conquistadors. Dishonourable, he pronounced them. Foul. Worthy of demise.

Others opposed. Opposed the creation of a new god. Opposed the intervention in the lives of, let us admit what they are, petty humans. So my potential was limited from the start, but still I became. I was charged with making the gold ripped from Chantico's valley a treasure that would not benefit the thieves who would pilfer it.

I fulfilled my obligations admirably. And the gold was discarded, avoided, cursed they said. When it came to rest in this cavern I took up residence, surrounded by the Volcanoes, the other children of my second mother who loves me dearly. Charged with keeping the gold safe, I keep the memory of Chantico's people safe. And since the day Cortez took possession of it I have discharged my duties with glee.

The day the pirates of the Pearl came, seeking the Treasure of Cortez, I was woken from a long sleep. I did not at once reveal the full dread of my power. I played with them. I toyed with them. I let them grow to understand, one by one. And I derived great pleasure from it, for it is what I was created to do. And one can never be so exultant as when they fulfill their destiny.

Great pleasure I derived when I turned the sweet food they dined on to ash. Great satisfaction I was given each time they drank yet remained thirsty. Great fulfillment was to be gotten with every woman that peaked their lust yet failed to quench it. Most invigorating of all, I would not let them die.

They tried. Oh, how they tried. They threw themselves from great heights, blew caverns in their brains with their filthy pistols, fell on their swords with a gusto they had previously reserved for those they perceived as their enemies.

Only one had any decency in him. Only one I would have shown mercy to. For he was honest and true at the core. But he was lost to me, far beneath the waters. I could not reach him. So I forsook him.

I do not know why I am reminded of him now. It is as if his presence has been renewed in my consciousness.

They come from two directions. Very clever, these four are, to have found not one but two approaches through the labyrinth Chantico has set around me. The rocks are perilous. The way is difficult. Yet they come from both sides. And when the first two arrive I will judge their deeds, I will look into their hearts. I will see what they are made of, and if they are found worthy they will see me.

If not, I will crush them.

The first one to enter the cave is the smallest. Why do they send their smallest warrior first? He is dark and beautiful. Perhaps he is meant as a sacrifice.

No. He smells of courage, not sacrifice. He means to protect. He shields the man behind him as if his small body could stop my power. He barely obscures him, how could he possibly protect him? They are so close together I cannot tell their souls apart. I must separate them. I must confuse them. I will give them noises to investigate.

There. I have the first one alone. I can smell fear now. Excellent. Fear opens them up to me. I can read every misdeed, every offence, every sin when they are afraid. This one has broken the laws of his people. Oh, he does not look as if he could, but he has slit the belly of a sailor in a rage. He has deceived. He has taken what was not his. He has taken property. Human property.

I do not abide the practice of human property.

All these misdeeds were against those who would hold human property. Fascinating. Despite his foul deeds, his motives remain pure. So very interesting to me. I cannot kill him. Not yet. I sense no desire to seize the treasure. He is motivated by the desire to protect. To protect the pathetic beings who have taken up residence on the other side of this domain. And the one behind him.

So I will look at who he protects.

A warrior. He has fought with honour and dignity. He has hunted to provide. He is deadly and beautiful in his power. But he has been hunted, as well. And sold. He has suffered. He has retained his honour and dignity. No, he has reclaimed it. For he was broken. At one time he was broken and fought no more. It is the first one who gave him the strength to recover. The first one gave him hope when hope was lost.

How can I kill one who has suffered so? He is free now. It would not be fair, for him to fight and suffer and pass through so much only to be cut down. For I sense no evil desire in this one, no intent to take what is not his. He would dangerous if his will was set against me, but it is not. He does not even desire revenge. He desires only to provide and heal. To provide for others. To heal the wounds he and others have suffered. His will is for peace. This is most intriguing.

Almost all who have ever found this cavern before were black souls, evil men with evil purpose, filled and fuelled by greed and lust and gluttony.

Like the third one who just entered.

Now there is a pirate.

I can smell it on him, like I can smell the rum on his breath and the sex on his body. Delicious, heady sex. He loves it. He wallows in it. He would be a wicked and skilled lover. His wildness is beautiful. I can smell the lust.

And I can smell the gold. He's touched it. He's felt the curse. He's been touched by me before. I can feel the cold steel in his chest, and smell his blood on the gold.

I hate the smell of the blood. All that blood mingled together in the chest. His stands out, not fouler than the rest but more pungent. Fresher.

My sire would be interested in this one. Opportunist. Adventurer. Keen merchant. Slick and crafty. Oh yes, cunning. And full of avarice. He touched the gold. He wanted the gold. He's touched much gold that was not his. He loves the feel of the forbidden in his hands.

There are layers of it, deceit after lie after sham after pretence. Theft after plunder after pillage. When I breathe over him he knows it, because he is one who understands that beings such as I exist.

I let my breath cool him, peel back the layers. This is entertaining. It is like opening a present. I am filled with anticipation, for when I reach the rotten core I will devour it. I must be delicate, I must strip off the each layer carefully. If I disturb them too much they will fall back into place, collapse on themselves, hide the core, and the core is tastiest.

What a man is really about, this is what I crave, for only then can I see what punishment he is due.

He senses me but has done nothing to oppose me. He is as curious as I am expectant. Now I pull back the final layer, expose the core.

This is impossible!

Greed I expected. Lust, gluttony, even pride. But this? It cannot be. I can not take the life of one who holds this at his core! I am cheated.

Where is the object of this unexpected …?

Him.

Smells familiar. He's been here before too. But there is something else about him. There is something all too familiar.

Tall and strong, and beautiful. How can it be that four could enter and be beautiful to me. None of this race have ever been beautiful to me. But this one, the eyes and the face and the hair and the stance and the soul.

He inspires this goodness in the pirate. He inspires this unforeseen devotion. Yet he is no pirate. He is no adventurer, even. He is… I must see him closer, I must speak to him.

There is a truth that deserves to be known.

* * *

Captain Jack Sparrow shuddered as the cold air passed through him.

"Jack?"

"Nothing, luv, just a chill," he said as he looked warily around the cavern.

The chest of Aztec gold lay exactly where they'd last seen it, with the withered corpse of Barbossa lying at its foot. Swag of all sorts lay about the cavern, unchanged in all this time. By the dim light of the torches he could pick out familiar passages and pillars. But there was a presence he could not put his finger on. But he did not want to alarm anyone.

"Jack?"

Will stood not ten feet away from him, eyes wide with shock. "It's cold, Jack! What is it?"

And before his eyes, Jack watched Will Turner disappear into thin air.

---

Chapter 67 - Truth

Captain Jack Sparrow stared at the empty air before him. He spun to one side, then the other.

No trace of Will Turner. Anywhere. He ran to the alcove to the left and peered in. Then to the archway that led to the water. Where the hell was Will? Soon he had run the full circuit of the cavern, and was on his second lap, when he ran into Alphonse.

"Did you - ?"

Alphonse stepped forward. "I do not think it is entirely malicious."

Jack spun again, overspun in fact and almost lost his footing, to face Will's stepbrother. "Malicious? What is malicious?"

Alphonse reached out a hand to steady Jack. "Spiteful. Or cruel."

Jack pushed his hand away angrily. "I know what malicious means – I'm a bloody pirate! What is it that you think is not malicious?"

Alphonse shrugged. "I'm not sure. It felt cold. But that doesn't mean it was evil."

Matthew stared at the space where Will used to be, eyes wide. "You told us about the curse. It was probably what placed the curse on the gold. The spirit. Or god."

"God?" Jack shook his head. "That's just superstitious…"

"No, Jack. These things exist. Do not disregard the powers of the gods." Matthew hugged his body. It was the first time Jack had seen him look frightened of anything.

"Something cursed the gold, Jack. And it probably abides here, with the gold. And it doesn't want us here."

"Why would a god take Will? There's no reason. What would a god want with… Bloody hell! He wants Will! Well, he can't have him! Stupid, heathen bloody scum…"

All three felt the cold air waft over them.

"Perhaps I was hasty." Jack spoke a little louder. A little slower. "I respect any god who lives in such a fine, upstanding cavern such as this. And I have nothing but high regard for the keeper of the gold. I was the one who returned the last piece, you know… along with the man you took. And I think it would only be proper that you return him to me, as I, um, I am the one responsible for us all being here. And if you want to punish someone it should be me, not him."

Jack waited, in the cold cavern.

* * *

Will Turner couldn't see anything. He couldn't hear anything. All he could feel was the cold air wrapped around his body. And a voice in his head. He couldn't hear the voice, as you might hear someone speaking beside you. He could feel it, as if the words were being formed in his head.

"By the sanction and blessing of Chantico I rule this cavern…" the voice began. Once the story of Chantico's valley and the decimation of her followers was in his mind, the voice of Aocmoilhuicpa questioned him. "How did you come to be here?"

Will struggled to speak, but the words could not come out of his mouth. He turned to the side, felt the cold air buffeting him, holding him up, keeping him prisoner. His arms were pinned to his sides.

"Struggle not, young one, and you will not be damaged. You found this cavern. Why? Think it and I will know."

Will thought as hard as he could.

* * *

Jack stood by the chest of Aztec gold. He stared at the lid, shut tight, hiding the medallions. Bloody cursed gold. Why the devil had they sought out the lights in the first place? He didn't want the gold. He didn't need the gold. He only wanted Will back.

And if he didn't get Will back he'd be taking the gold, all right. He'd be taking the gold and the curse be damned. No one was going to deny Captain Jack Sparrow what was his and not answer for it.

* * *

"The pirate cares for you."

"And I for him."

"You bring goodness to him."

"He has always been good."

"He is evil. He lies. He steals. He takes what is not his. His essence is vile.""

"No."

"He took you."

"I gave myself."

"He took you under false pretences."

"We worked that all out."

"Even now he keeps secrets."

"I don't care."

"You really don't."

Will felt himself turned around. His feet were lifted so he hovered above where he remembered the ground to be.

"I punish people as they deserve to be punished."

"He doesn't need to be punished."

"He offers to take your punishment for you."

"No, I should take my punishment. Whatever you think I deserve. Do not harm him."

"Are you sure? I can see inside you. I can see what you do and do not deserve. Do not try to lie."

"I am not lying. I know Jack isn't perfect but I don't care. I love him."

"You do. And he is not perfect. And it is he that deserves the punishment.'

"For what?"

"For invading my realm. For wanting my gold. I will look into him. If he wants the gold I will punish him."

"It was my idea to come here, to investigate the lights. It is me you should punish!"

"I don't think so, young one. I can't see that in you. You are here to protect and provide for that vermin living on the other side of the island. Just like the other two. But the pirate, he is here for his own reasons."

"He doesn't want your gold."

"Be careful, young one. If you ask to take his punishment again, I might agree."

"I don't care."

"Oh, yes you do. He is contemplating taking the gold as we speak."

"No."

"Why not? He wanted it before."

"He's changed."

"You are sure of this?"

Will opened his mouth and felt the cold air at the back of his throat.

* * *

There was a thud from behind Jack, and by the time he spun around to see what it was, Will had hit the ground and was looking around with a dazed expression.

Will looked up in time to see Jack disappear into thin air.

* * *

"Pirate."

"God."

"Aocmoilhuicpa."

"Whatever you say, mate."

"Cocksure, aren't you?"

"Even when I'm scared witless. You'll never know the truth of it, savvy?"

"Oh, but I will. I can look inside you."

"Look away, mate. Just leave Will out of this.

"But the young one is in this. And I will look into you to see by how much. But before I do, tell me, pirate. What do you think I'll see?"

Jack paused. What would someone see inside him? Years of deceit, and lies and attitude had made him loose touch with what was inside.

Look," Aocmoilhuicpa told him. "Look deep. What do you see?"

Jack looked.

He saw the sea. He saw the Pearl. He saw freedom and fresh salt air. He saw Will standing on the deck beside him with the wind in his hair, eyes squinting just slightly in the sun. Just enough to bring out a hint of the crease Jack loved so much, that little brow crease when he was concentrating or worried or squinting into the sun. The wind blew his hair back, and the salt air made it curl into ringlets Jack wanted to play with it, pull it straight between his fingers and watch it bounce back and rub his face in the softness.

He looked relaxed and healthy and, Jesus, but the lad had gotten broad in the shoulders from his time on the island, building things and blacksmithing and what have you. His sleeves were rolled up so those superb forearms showed, all thick at the elbows but tapering to a nice, strong but slim wrist, with that vein that stuck out and begged to be licked.

But that wasn't the important thing. The important thing was… when the wind blew just like that it puffed out his shirt, and the neck was open so low Jack could see the exquisite curve of Will's pectorals, and the way his nipple sat on the swell of his chest like that, so perfect and a little hard due to the chilly wind, or maybe it was something else.

No, that wasn't the important thing. It ran a close second, or maybe third. If Jack leaned back he would see the way Will's trousers hugged his arse. That might be second. The way that arse felt under his hands, so high and firm and round and …

But the important thing was that Will looked happy.

* * *

Jack fell to the ground with a clatter of sword on rock. The hilt jammed into his side and he swore with enough venom to make Alphonse mutter an involuntary blessing. He looked up and saw Will standing before him, whole and well.

"Luv, you're back!" he grinned.

"Jack. Are you all right? Matthew says you were gone much longer than I was! What did he do to you?"

Jack rubbed the back of his head. "He? Who? What are you talking about?"

"Aocmoilhuicpa."

"Aocmo… what? Oh, the god. Yes, well, he wanted to have some words with me, I suppose. Wanted to see if I was after his gold, eh."

Will rushed to Jack's side and helped him to his feet. He brushed off Jack's shoulders and straightened his head scarf.

"Will?"

Will looked down at the floor of he cave.

"Will, don't worry so, luv. I told him straight. I don't want his bloody gold. I want you, safe and sound and next to me."

* * *

Aocmoilhuicpa, keeper of the gold of Chantico's valley, played with the lights of his champion in the evening air and watched the four men pick their way across sharp rock. It was rough going, the way they were laden with the various treasures of the cavern.

None of the Aztec gold, though.

Aocmoilhuicpa was happy. These were decent men. They promised to keep the cavern a secret, and he knew they would. Because they promised, and he saw inside them they would keep their promise. He allowed them to take whatever they could carry of the many treasures Barbossa's pirates had stashed in the cave. They chose wisely. He could smell the purity of the gold the pirate chose. He could see the usefulness of the tools and weapons the others selected. And he told them they could return in a year to get more, but if anyone approached before then they could expect to die instantly.

It wasn't as if anyone could happen by the cavern by accident. The way was perilous, and Aocmoilhuicpa would ask Chantico to make it even more perilous, to prevent undo disturbances. But he would look forward to their next visit. He could understand, now, what Chantico saw in these humans. They were bursting with interesting sentiments. Pride and loyalty were quite exhilarating.

And lust. Aocmoilhuicpa could not understand why he had always considered lust to be so evil. Now he saw that lust could be a good thing. And he liked the feel of it. Yes, the pirate had been quite entertaining. He showed the god so many things he'd never even thought of before. Interesting. Lust, when accompanied by love, was more powerful than even fear. The things humans did with their bodies. Not possessing a corporeal embodiment, Aocmoilhuicpa had had no idea what humans did with their bodies. He'd had no idea of the variety of activities, the full range of motion and senasations. And the young one, well, he really was quite remarkably flexible, for a human.

Aocmoilhuicpa had a lot to think about for the next year.

---

Chapter 68 - To Give Thanks

"What did you show him?"

"What?"

"Come on, Will. ‘Fess up. What did you show him?"

"Who?"

"Aocmo… what's his name."

"Aocmoilhuicpa."

"That's the one. Well?"

"I think that's personal."

"I think it involves me."

"Why?"

"Because what I showed him involved you."

"What makes you think I showed him anything at all?"

"You just said it was personal."

"I know what you're doing, Jack."

"What am I doing, luv?"

"You're fishing."

"Fishing for what?"

"A compliment."

"No."

"Yes, I can tell by that wicked gleam in your eye."

"I am not gleaming. Or fishing. I swear to you. On my honour. This has nothing to do with me wanting a compliment. From you. Although, I always do. Want a compliment. From you."

"Then what is it?"

"What is what?"

"To do with?"

"Oh."

"Jack, I'll not be mocked."

"Who's mocking? I'm not mocking."

"Then what are you doing?"

"I'm asking you to tell me what you told him."

"Why?"

"Because."

"Because what?"

"I want to know."

"You already know. You were there."

"Well, then I want to hear you say it. Out loud."

"Out loud?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Um…"

"Why, Jack?"

"Because I like it."

"You like it."

"Aye."

"When I talk."

"I love to hear you talk."

"About the things we do."

"Aye. Especially that."

The tent had grown appreciably warmer during this conversation. Will breathed out noisily, not a sigh, as if to clear the air in front of his face.

"I can't."

"Oh, I think you can."

Will shook his head, which moved the hair around his face. A lock of coiled chestnut sprang off his forehead and fell in front of his eye.

Jack took the end of it between his fingers and rubbed the softness of it.

Will looked down at his knees.

Jack reached just past Will's head and turned the clever piece of bent metal he'd wrapped the lantern wick around, and plunged the tent into utter darkness.

"There," he said, "I can't see you. So it will be easier."

"But you can. At least it feels like you can."

"Luv, it's totally dark. There isn't even a moon tonight, and even if there was we're in a tent with the lantern out, savvy. Pitch black. Can't see a thing."

Jack was lying. Not about the light, or lack thereof. There was no light. But he didn't need light to see Will, perfectly, in the dark. His eyes half-shut in concentration. The crease between his brows ever deepening. The lovely blush creeping up his sculpted cheekbones.

"Why do I feel your eyes on me?"

"That's not my eyes, luv. That's my heart. Tell me what you showed him."

Will sighed. "The night before we set out."

"In the tent? By the cliff?" Oh dear, thought Jack. That wouldn't do. He'd been suffering from an embarrassing inability to stay on task that night.

"No, before we came here. The night we, my father and I, carried you up to the room above the tavern."

Ah, yes, The tavern. The night after the first time they'd… now, why would he show that to a randy heathen god? Didn't make sense. Why wouldn't he show the night before that? That's what Jack had shown him.

"You took care of me," Will said. "I was sore and still a little scared, because it was the first time I'd ever… done anything like that before." He paused. Breathing audibly. "The first time I ever fucked."

Jack felt giddy. He would never get enough of Will Turner saying that word.

"And after you fucked me," it got easier the more he said it, "and I was sore from it, you took care of me. I thought when you touched me there, when you licked me like that, it was only to ease the way, only to get me ready. So you could fuck me."

Jack nodded eagerly in the dark. Licking Will to get him ready for fucking, that sounded like a good idea.

"But you didn't want to fuck me. You just wanted to make me feel good. And it did feel good. It does feel good, Jack, when you lick me there."

Where, Jack thought. Tell me where. I want to hear you say it. Please.

"It makes me…"

Oh, yes, that, say that too!

"It makes me hard when you lick me there."

He wouldn't say where he liked to be licked, but at least he said it made him hard.

"And that night you didn't care about yourself at all. You just took care of me."

Jack didn't care about what Will told the god anymore. He wanted to hear more about where Will liked to be licked. Jack reached out a hand, which connected with Will's thigh. Good start. He stroked across the tight trousers, felt lean muscles tense in a good way.

"He wanted to know why I was so sure you love me. So I showed him how you took care of me, with no thought for yourself." Will's thigh trembled a little under Jack's hand. "And I showed him how worried on the beach when you thought I'd been captured, and about when you dove into the water after me."

"Hmmm." He wanted to make Will's thigh twitch again, just like that, when he stroked further up it, and more toward the inside where Will was most sensitive. He didn't want to ever think about diving into the cold water after Will again, because every time he did he thought that next time he might not be so lucky. But there it was. He was thinking about it. And when he opened his mouth he couldn't stop the words.

"I would have died if I hadn't been able to bring you back up with me."

Damn. Why on earth would he say such a thing out loud. It breaks the cardinal rule of piratey. Of pirateness. Being a pirate. Nothing, no one, is worth dying for. And if they are, you never admit it. Not out loud.

Will chose to not recognise this faux pas of epic proportions. He just shifted closer to Jack, bringing his cock closer to Jack's stroking fingers. "But you didn't. That's why I got to tell him about you licking me like that."

Better. Much much better. Back to the licking. All he had to do was say the words, all he had to do was say it out loud and Jack would lick him again. There. Anywhere he wanted. Jack waited for Will to say it.

"I thought it was some sort of sacrifice on your part. To do that all for me, and not do anything for yourself."

No, not at all, Jack thought. Nothing is a sacrifice where you're involved.

"But I think you liked it just for itself, just to do it."

He had to be joking. How could Jack not like it?

"I'd like that now."

Perfect.

"It would be a nice way to give thanks."

"Give thanks?" Jack blinked in the pitch dark. Give thanks to whom?

"We should celebrate. Being alive. Being together."

Of course, that made sense.

"So, I'd like to do it."

Jack made a noise of agreement and slid his hand the rest of the way up Will's thigh to touch the thick bulge in his trousers. Hot and straining against the linen, just the way Jack liked it. He squeezed lightly and was rewarded with a hitched breath and one of those little mewling noises. Then the clearing of Will's throat.

"Strip," Will said. Hot and demanding.

Strip? Jack didn't need to be told twice. He was naked before you could say Captain Jack Sparrow. He knelt, naked, in the middle of the tent, and reached for Will's cock, Will's arse, Will's anything. Will wasn't going to say it, but he would do it anyway. He was confounded by the presence of trousers, still securely fastened over the bulge. "Irksome trousers," he muttered. And was silenced by the weight of Will's body against him, then on top of him, then sliding down his body.

"Will, but, I thought…" Jack protested.

"What?"

"I thought I was going to get to lick your arse," he said, surprised by how saying it out loud suddenly made him feel insecure.

"I think not, Jack," Will said as he slid back up to place a kiss on Jack's lips. He speared his tongue into Jack's mouth and Jack opened up for him. God yes, Will could kiss. Jack lifted his head to take even more tongue into his mouth. He could make those soft lips go hard and demanding and deadly. Jack didn't want the mouth to move away. He tried to follow it, but a wide hand pressed down on his chest when Jack tried to sit up.

Then Will slithered back down Jack's prone body.

"I'll be doing the licking tonight."

Jack's head fell back to the ground. Jesus, but the boy was going to be the death of him.

---

Chapter 69 - How Much Can One Man Take?

Captain Jack Sparrow's head hit a sharp rock when it fell back on the ground, but he didn't feel it. He tried his damnedest to figure out where he was, but it was impossible to see with no light. And with his eyes rolled back in his head like that. Tongue in his navel. Fucking his navel. Yes, that's what he loved to do to Will. And Will was doing it to him.

Will was the one doing the licking tonight.

God yes, and he was licking Jack's cock from base to tip in long, wide strokes, and then he was sucking on the very head of it and his hands were pushing Jack's thighs up, up and back and open and over, and soon Jack was splayed out like a Christmas goose or some thing on obscene display. Except Will couldn't see him. Not with his eyes.

He didn't know Will could do that! That thing with his tongue on the back of Jack's… mercy! And then he was nibbling at the loose skin of Jack's… that wasn't decent at all… and three cheers for indecent. Will made a muffled sound, a moan perhaps, maybe he was trying to say something. But you couldn't expect anyone to understand you when you had a bollock sucked into your mouth like that, now, could you?

Will moaned again, in lieu of smiling. Because the noises Jack made were making him want to smile, but you couldn't very well smile with bollock in your mouth. They were higher than the noises Jack usually made, and Jack had no control over them whatsoever. He let the bollock slide out from between his lips but held some of the loose skin in his mouth. Worried it with his tongue. The sparse hairs were wiry. He turned his head to the side and licked the tender spot where the long, straight hairs on Jack's legs stopped, and the even longer, curlier hairs of his groin started. The skin there was pale, and soft. Unmarred by scars or ink or brands.

What was he doing? He just kept licking that spot over and over until Jack thought his head might fall off. Jack was unaware of the erogenous nature of that particular patch of skin until, damn, now the tongue was gone and trailing across inner thigh.

Jack wanted to shout ‘No, wrong direction, go down!' but his own tongue was curiously thick and ineffective. Will's tongue was at his knee now, insinuating itself into the crease where Jack's knee was bent, and then Will was unbending his knee and pulling away from Jack and the tongue was on his calf.

Fancy that, Jack thought. Here I am offering my arse up to the whelp and he's licking my calf. No, shin. No, ankle. Oh, mercy once more, that's what Will's tongue feels like on my ankle.

Will swirled his tongue over the slim ankle. Jack had such lovely ankles, he thought to himself. They were almost delicate looking. He'd noticed them when they were stranded on the island. But he didn't think then that it was right to pay too much attention to them. It wasn't until he and Jack were on Alphonse's boat that he'd learned that feet in general were, indeed, quite nice to pay attention to. Or rather, have Jack pay attention to. But the opportune moment had not presented itself for Will to do the attention paying.

That was interesting. Jack appeared to be quite ticklish on the soles of his feet. Just in front of the heel. There. Jack's leg jerked and Will had to hold it quite firmly. "Steady, Jack," he whispered against the twitching foot. "I told you, I'm doing the licking tonight."

That voice. That low, purring, vibrating, soothing… that tongue. That wet and hot and rasping… across the bottom of his foot. Licking straight across the bottom where toes met foot, wriggling between toes, followed or echoed or chased by soft lips. That hot breath washing over him. Jack couldn't believe it. He wished fervently he'd left the lantern lit, because seeing what Will was doing to his foot would be heaven. But then he realized that if he saw it he would be in danger of passing out from the sheer overload of sensation, so perhaps it was best to be doing this in complete darkness after all.

Will sucked the little toe into his mouth and put just enough pressure on it to make Jack gasp.

"Sweet Jesus!"

"Tsk, Jack, such language…" he sucked the next toe into his mouth.

"Fuck!"

"Later," Will murmured, and pulled the first toe into his mouth along with the second one, and wriggled his tongue between them while he sucked.

"Will, I can't take that!" Jack was writhing on the ground, jerking his hips up off the grass in Will's direction, clutching at the wall of the tent, his shirt on the ground, Will's knee, anything.

Will opened his mouth wide and took all of the toes into his mouth at once.

Jack bellowed.

* * *

Matthew rolled over in Alphonse's arms and looked in the general direction of the tent. He could barely make out the pale outline of the canvas in the darkness. Their modest campfire did little to penetrate the thick night air.

"What do you suppose he's doing to him?"

Alphonse smiled and petted Matthew's bare shoulder. "Does it matter?"

Matthew shrugged. "No, but I'd like to know how to get a man to make a noise like that." He canted his hips to bring his hard cock into contact with Alphonse's hip.

"If I were to guess," Alphonse said as he reached down to grab Matthew's arse, "I would say that you might have to do something to the man that he had never experienced before."

"Really?"

"He sounds surprised to me."

"And what might I do to surprise you?"

Alphonse smiled again. He was enjoying this little adventure very much indeed. Will and Jack's constant amorous activities were prompting Matthew to try ever new things. Not that Matthew had ever been unadventurous, but since settling on this island they'd spent more than a few nights too tired from all the hard work to do anything but lie in each other's arms.

Not on this trip. No matter how tired they got, they were never too tired to respond to the delicious noises the pirate and the blacksmith wrought from each other. It was contagious.

And he'd seen Will, watching them in the clearing, so he knew he and his lover had the same effect on Will, and probably Jack by proxy. And on it went. The four of them probably constituted the closest science would ever get to perpetual motion.

But there was no time to contemplate that any of that, because Matthew was licking his way down Alphonse's chest while reaching into his pants.

* * *

Jack was whimpering, and Will couldn't believe it. There were actual tears around his eyes and he was making these little high-pitched panting noises. Will had abandoned Jack's quite moist feet, kissed and nipped his way back up his legs and torso, and was now kissing salty wetness from around Jack's eyes.

"Too much?" he whispered, in an all too innocent tone.

"Much," Jack babbled. "More… much."

Will smiled. "So, I'm not the only one with a weak spot in his feet?"

Jack took in a shuddering breath.

"You didn't even know that about yourself, did you, Jack?"

Jack tried to nod. He did succeed in making his head wobble in approximately the right direction.

"So am I to assume that everything you do to me is something you actually like to have done to yourself?" Will let his fingers wander down Jack's chest to circle a peaked nipple. He pinched lightly.

"Mmmm." Jack forced himself to focus on the question. "No," he whispered. "Some things I do just because you like them."

Will gave a low chuckle. "You mean the way you look at me."

"It's dark. Will, I can't see you."

"The way you stare at me so hard I can feel your eyes on me, I can feel you caressing my skin when you're twenty feet away, I can feel you staring at my legs, my chest, my arse, my hands. You don't like to be stared at like that."

Jack could only agree. "True. I don't. But you don't do that."

"No, I like looking at you when you don't know it."

Ah, so the whelp wasn't so innocent as he pretended to be. That would be Jack's fault, actually. "But you like it," he managed to say, "when I do it to you."

"Hmmm, I like it when you do just about anything to me." Will licked across Jack's eyebrows.

There was something Jack had never even considered. How good it would feel to have Will Turner lick his eyebrows. Astonishing.

"But I'm not finished doing things to you yet."

I'll bet, Jack thought in a daze. You mean to have me shed every last shred of dignity I might have. And I'll happily oblige.

"Because I won't be finished until I've licked your arsehole."

Holy mother of… he said it. Not the way Jack wanted him to say it, but he said it anyway and Jack would have sworn on a Bible, a Torah, A Koran or a chest of cursed Aztec gold pieces that his cock could not possibly have gotten any harder but there it did.

And Will was back between his legs.

Will kissed lightly around Jack's cock. He had to be careful not to make him spend right away. He pushed Jack's thighs back up and tasted the sweat between his bollocks and his groin. He licked down the part Jack had called the root of his cock, and loved the texture of the skin there, the way it seemed to press back against his tongue. Then he drew his tongue back into his mouth and slid his lips down.

If the anticipation didn't kill Jack he thought he might come the instant Will licked him. He held his breath.

The skin was soft, the hairs were wiry, the little hole spasmed as soon as Will's tongue touched it and the purr that came out of Will was feral. He swept his tongue across the puckered opening a few times, savouring the intensity of the taste and the vibrations in the backs of Jack's thighs where Will gripped them, holding him steady. He needed more, so he stabbed with his tongue and poked at the tiny opening until it started to relax and then he had his tongue in Jack's arse and it was like nothing he'd imagined.

He could feel the muscle opening up to him, and he knew exactly how that felt, in fact he could feel his own arse clenching in response. He took one hand off Jack's thigh, trusting Jack to stay open for him, and reached down to push his trousers down because his cock was starting to ache. He jerked on it roughly, squeezed it between his fingers hard, imagining the tightness of Jack's arse around it.

Jack was floating above the ground, or at least he couldn't feel it beneath him, and he couldn't feel anything else either, except for that spectacular tongue inside him. And Will didn't stop, he just kept going and Jack kept keening and Will kept licking and Jack kept opening up and Will kept tonguefucking and Jack tried to spread his legs more but they couldn't and he wanted Will's cock inside him more than anything in the world but not if it meant Will taking his tongue away. How much could one man take? He was just about ready to give up and come when the tongue disappeared and he heard Will spit rather noisily and then a slick cockhead was poised at his wet hole.

In. Yes, in. Don't ever stop that wonderful slide in. Will was big enough and Jack was tight enough that it took some time for Will to sink into him, but not long enough. He was full then, and Will's shoulders were pressed against inside of his knees. Insanely good, it felt. Will just hovered above him, somehow, cock fully sheathed but his weight not resting on Jack and Jack wanted to feel his full weight, wanted to be crushed by him.

Will was panting. "I'm sorry, Jack, that wasn't much preparation and…" He moved as if to pull out but Jack forced his legs out from under Will's torso and wrapped them around his waist.

"Lie on me, Will, I want to feel you. Come on, luv."

So Will did, and sank into Jack just that little bit more that Jack needed. He tossed his head to one side, needing desperately to move something. His mouth was open but nothing came out. Will lowered his head, twisting as if he knew where it was even if he couldn't see it, and his lips closed over the wide-open mouth. Jack sucked Will's tongue into his mouth, tasting himself, tasting Will, tasting the pure sex of it all and moaned around it when his cock pulsed and his seed released between them. But he kept his legs tight around Will.

"Not yet, Will, not yet." He threw his arms around his lover and stroked his back, holding perfectly still except for the rhythmic pulsing he had no control over. "Shh, not yet." He put his lips on Will's again but kept his tongue out of it. He just needed to buy enough time to take Will down a notch.

Will lay on Jack, wanting to let go, but he didn't. He made a little grunting noise and moved his lips over Jack's, not to get him excited, just so he could savour the texture of them. He knew exactly why Jack had reined him in like that, and he didn't want to disappoint.

After enough time had passed, Jack pulled away from Will's mouth and took a deep breath. "Fuck me proper now, Will. Don't hold back."

So he did. And he didn't.

And Jack was glad they were so far away from the Pearl, because if his crew ever suspected he wanted to be fucked like that, and to make noises like that while he was being fucked like that, he might have a bit of trouble with the more traditional of the men when it came to maintaining discipline on the ship.

---

Chapter 70 - Bloody Pirates

Captain Jack Sparrow sat on a narrow wooden chair, with his legs pulled up so his chin rested on his knees. He stared dolefully at the bed, made up with crisp clean sheets, and the little bottle of oil sitting on the ledge, corked tightly because it wasn't about to be used anytime soon. In fact, Jack sighed, it might never be used again.

Because Will Turner wasn't talking to him again.

The ocean rushed beneath the Black Pearl as it sped away from the Isla de Muerte under the pale moon, and Jack was alone in his room and that was so wrong but there was nothing he could do about it.

Will Turner wasn't likely to talk to him any time soon, since what he'd done this time was unforgivable, or so it seemed. Jack just wished he could remember doing it.

It had started the day before, back at the village. The four men had trudged on, laden with goods they could use or trade, exhausted from the over three weeks it took to get out to the cave and back.

The way out from the cave had been far more treacherous than the way in. Aocmoilhuicpa might have forgiven their sins and allowed them safe passage, but his boss was not nearly so magnanimous. Chantico had forced a volcanic eruption that threw ash in their faces and upheaved boulders as big as houses. They spent two full days in the labyrinth between the mouth of the cave and the cliffs they had climbed. Thrice they'd ended up back at the mouth of the cave, with the cold presence of Aocmoilhuicpa laughing at them.

Really, what kind of a god laughs at people?

The kind of god that refuses to help. He told them he was allowed to let them go free only if he promised not to help. So Jack and Will and Alphonse and Matthew had to prove their worth by solving the labyrinth. Which they did, once Will and Alphonse stepped back and let Matthew and Jack work it all out. Matthew found the pattern of disruption. It looked just like chaos to everyone else but there was a subtle repetition of elements. Chantico was teasing them, making the way look impassable, when it was actually a clever design that brought them to the centre of the plateau in a spiral and back out again to the edge, where they were surrounded by high cliffs. Matthew led them through he sharp rocks and passages, and Jack rigged the ropes necessary to hoist them out of the narrow, unpleasant valley.

Thus it took them a lot longer to return from the cave than it had to get to the cave, although it did take them longer to return than entirely necessary. They'd stopped for some time in the same valley they'd camped in on the way to the cave. To regain their strength. To rest. And enjoy some peace and quiet after their ordeal.

And to fuck, Jack thought to himself. But that fact didn't have to be shared with the general populace. Aocmoilhuicpa knew, Jack was sure, of everything that had gone on, and Alphonse and Matthew certainly knew as well. That was more than enough public knowledge in Jack's opinion. He planned, as soon as possible, to get Will somewhere quiet and alone and away from prying eyes and ears.

Of course, that was his perpetual plan.

Finally, they'd wound down the hill past the springs and through the forest. Will was pleased to see that one tree, which had been listing to one side dangerously, had been taken down without causing too much damage to the forest around it. Such a diligent sort, Will was. Always keeping track of things like that. They arrived at the little village just after supper was done.

There'd been an eerie quiet in the clearing, as if their arrival was not expected. Or their arrival was expected, and was being studiously avoided.

After a time, Bootstrap had emerged from the long house. "Son, Jack, good to see you back. We worried a bit when that volcano erupted. Oh, Alphonse, good to see you safe. And where is… ah, Matthew. Excellent, everyone is safe. Well, um, things are a bit quiet here right now, savvy."

Jack had looked around the clearing. People were there, sitting in the shade of trees or by the doors of little huts, watching. Something was odd about them. He couldn't quite put his finger on it. He had to concentrate hard, and then it hit him.

No pirates.

All the pirates were missing. Which, of course, led him to wonder about the whereabouts of his ship.

"The Pearl!" He had lunged toward the path to the bay, but Bootstrap caught his arm.

"She's anchored, Jack. No worries. Everyone is aboard, waiting for you."

Jack frowned. "Me? Waiting? Are we going somewhere?"

"I certainly hope so."

Everyone turned to see Darria standing by the fire pit, with her arms crossed over her broad chest. "Bloody pirates," she spat out.

Jack had approached her, but not to closely. "Is there a problem with my crew, madam? Because I don't believe you would be enjoying your freedom on this charming island if it weren't for…"

The slap was hard and fast, leaving Jack no room to react. He was sure he hadn't deserved it.

Bootstrap had inserted himself between the angry mother and the stunned pirate. "Ah, Jack, it would appear that Darria's daughter and one of your men were found in a, um, compromising situation. And she's not very happy, as you might imagine."

Darria's daughter. Elsie. The little strumpet who was always rubbing up against Will. Jack tried to gauge her years. He couldn't imagine which of his men would want such a young thing. Seemed preposterous. The girl liked Will, anyway. Why on earth would she be interested in any of the ruffians on his crew if what she wanted was Will? None of them could hold a candle to Will.

Well, because she probably settled for less because she couldn't have Will, could she? That would explain it.

"So you keep that disgusting pirate away from my daughter, and while you're at it, keep the whole lot of them away!" Darria had growled in a most disturbing manner.

"Jack, it seems that the way of life on the Pearl and the way people would like things done in the village aren't quite compatible, like. Savvy?"

There must have been some sort of drunken revelry going on in Jack's absence; that would explain it. They'd been in need of Jack to keep a lid on the drunken revelling. Now, the last drunken revelry, which had taken place in Jack's presence, had been confined to the decks of the Black Pearl and involved no one from the village. Except for the drunken revelry going on aboard the Interceptor, which had in fact involved Will. Who wasn't in fact from the village. He counted as crew of the Pearl.

Or did he?

Jack lifted his mug from the table and tossed back the rest of his rum. When Will wasn't talking to him the only solution to the pain was to drink heavily. He poured another five or so fingers of rum. The only bright spot to the whole fiasco was that Will was on board the Pearl. He might not have been talking to Jack, but he came on the ship with him anyway.

Couldn't really figure that one out. Why on earth would Will choose to go on a two, possibly three week foray on the Pearl when he wasn't talking to Jack? Jack supposed being in the village would be just as uncomfortable for Will as it was for Jack.

Charlotte had emerged from the main lodge. She'd strutted up to Jack with a determined look on her face.

"Charlotte, how good to see you…" he'd lied.

Slap!

What the devil did he deserve that for?

"I'm not pregnant," she'd hissed at him.

Jack had gathered himself together after a brief rub at his jaw to make sure it was still connected to his head. "Charlotte, luv, I hardly see how you can blame that on me. It's not as if Will actually had a full go at you last time, is it? Shouldn't you be slapping old Gillette for that one?"

Charlotte had just clenched her fists. "He's not here!"

Oh, so that was it. Gillette had his way with her and took off. No harm done, she wasn't up the duff, but if she were, it would seem a bit of an abandonment. Strange things these women got upset about, he thought to himself, since the whole point of the abysmal exercise was to get her knocked up in the first place. And there was still no reason for her to be slapping him.

Jack tossed back the rum. Will, Will, Will. They were destined to be torn apart over and over, or so it seemed. Such a pity. And the last three weeks had been heaven.

Not entirely heaven. There were the storms and the rather frightening volcanic eruption and that whole being kidnapped by the vengeful heathen god incident. But aside from all that, it was had been enthralling. Aside from that and the rough rocks, the painful hiking up and down steep hills, and the swinging from dangerous ropes, which Jack had rather enjoyed if it must be told, the last three weeks had been nothing but enjoyable.

Will was who made it enjoyable. He loved adventure. He looked so good when he was excited. He looked so good when he was scared. He looked so good when he was determined. Hell, he looked good when he was sleeping. But the adventure stirred something in Will. Made him more confident. More demanding. More…

Jack hugged his knees and pressed his arse into the unyielding wooden chair. More arsefucking. That's what adventure did to Will.

They'd ended up trading nights, after that incredible night in the pitch dark. The next night he had Will stretched out in front of him, impaled as it were, and Will was arching his back with his arse resting at the apex of Jack's thighs while Jack knelt there trying to not go over the edge just from the sight of that smooth golden chest and those chocolate brown eyes rolled back in Will's head. Then the next night Will had Jack on his knees - on his hands and knees, if you can believe it. And on and on. It was the most blissful thing he could think of, and Jack had a very good imagination.

And that was why he had to stop thinking of it. Because Will wasn't talking to him. He'd just sat in the boat while Jack rowed them out to the Pearl, looking over the list of goods the settlement required. Seems they weren't bad enough to be outright banished, only to be sent on an extended shopping trip. Jack had to endure the ever tantalizing sight of Will's arse as he climbed up the rope ladder to the deck of the Pearl, and then Jack was on board and everyone was looking awkward and contrite.

Jack felt compelled to yell and call them a bunch of scurvy dogs and whatnot, just to get them riled up and looking less contrite. Who ever heard of a bunch of contrite pirates?

Then he'd taken Mr. Bertram aside to have a word about Darria's daughter, and Bertram had just smiled sheepishly and reassured Jack that he would keep his hands off the young lady in the future. "Not like anything much happened, Captain. She was just looking for some attention, like. Her eyes're fixed on yer lad, anyway."

Jack raised an eyebrow at that, and caught a glimpse of Will's stern face in the background as her helped raise the sail. Jesus, sleeves rolled up and forearms bulging. His lad. He wished.

"Cheer up, Captain. He's yer lad all right. S'obvious to anyone who looks at the two of you, innit? He came aboard, din't he?" And then Mr. Bertram had given his Captain a friendly cuff on the upper arm and grinned.

Jack thought about that, and wondered again why Will was on the Pearl. He would be below deck right now, lying in a hammock, trying to sleep amid the snores and laughs and clinking of rum bottles and all the other brouhaha that takes place in the early part of the night. Will in a hammock, Jack imagined, would entail Will's arse pressed against the tight canvas. Hmmm. It was hot below deck. Will would have his shirt off, or if not off at least open to the middle of his chest. Perhaps down to his navel.

Maybe he should go below deck to check on the men. That might be a captainy sort of thing to do.

He started when the door creaked open. Jack leapt to his feet and spread out the furled map on the table. He was on his feet by the time the door was half-way open. Wouldn't do for anyone to see the captain sitting morosely alone in his room when there was sailing to be done. He straightened his neck and tried to adopt a casual but authoritative pose. "Enter!" he commanded.

It was Will. Will was standing in the open doorway. With a worried look on his face. But his fists weren't clenched, which Jack took as a good sign. He was rubbing his palms on his thighs, which made Jack want to rub his palms on his thighs. Will's thighs, that is. Oh, and he was all disconcerted.

He'd spent the last night on watch on the Pearl, and Jack had spent the night unable to rest for even a moment, knowing that Will was on board and on watch. In the morning they'd gathered supplies for the journey, hauled the barrels of fresh water required for a sea journey, got the Pearl ready to make way, avoided each other until they were in the boat and Will was looking at the list.

Jack had opened his mouth to speak but Will just gave him that hurt look so he shut up and rowed. Betrayal, that's what caused the hurt and the worry. It had been there ever since the evening before, when Anamaria had come out of the long house and marched up to Jack and slapped him so hard he spun around and was looking right at Will's face when Anamaria spoke.

"Charlotte may not be pregnant, but I am!"

*****

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