Parts 86-90

Posted: May 2004
Author: Haleth

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Chapter 86 - Yours, Mine, Ours

Captain Jack Sparrow's hand rested on the front curve of Will Turner's shoulder, with his index and middle fingers curled over the swell of deltoid, the other two fingers resting in the groove between shoulder and neck, and the thumb stretched around the front so the tip of it was being tickled by the soft hair that grew under Will's arm.

Will was lying on his back, eyes closed, hands clasped behind his head, enjoying the spaciousness of their new, wide bed. "I can't believe you got Shimura to widen your bed for me," he murmured dreamily.

"Us, luv," Jack corrected him. As much as he loved the way his hand fit the shoulder perfectly, he still felt the desire to explore. Never would he tire of exploring. He trailed his fingers in a rough circle on the head of the prominent shoulder muscle, then dipped down into the dark brown hair.

Will shivered a bit, mildly ticklish under his arms, but more aroused than tickled by the whispery sensation of fingertips barely caressing his sensitive skin. Jack left the patch of hair and followed the line between bulging shoulder and rounded bicep. "He said he would be delighted to enlarge the bed as his last duty aboard the Pearl."

Will opened his eyes. "Shimura? Quit?"

Jack nodded. "Aye, he's gone landlubber. Seems he's got himself hooked up with a lady onshore, and she wants him around more. Ah, they could use a good woodworker over there. Isn't like I'd stop a man from leaving. It's his right, savvy?" Jack's fingers migrated back to the warm thatch of hair. He couldn't stay away from it for some reason. "S'alright. Juni'll make him happy like."

Will's eyes widened. "Juni? The short little tiny woman? The one who giggles and makes lewd gestures about men?"

Jack grinned. "Oh, you know her then, eh?"

Will nodded. "The one who doesn't speak a word of English?"

Jack shrugged. "Apparently, that's not proved an obstacle for the happy couple. But then, I've known Shimura for years - shared lodgings with the man, and I can tell you from personal experience that he doesn't speak a word of English when he gets close and personal with a woman. I think they'll manage just fine."

Will blushed. Now he would be dreading it, every time he was ashore, accidentally overhearing the high, staccato tones of Juni's language and the harsher, forceful sounds of Shimura's, together, rising in volume. His imagination was getting away with him. Or not. He'd hear a few stories about Shimura from the other pirates. The thought of Jack sharing a room with him, while Shimura's woman or, if you believed the bulk of the stories, women were present… made him wonder what Jack was doing in the room with Shimura and the ladies. He sat up.

Jack pushed him back down. "Relax, luv, water under the hull. Long long time ago. I only share my bed with you. I've only wanted to share myself with you since I met you." He kissed Will in the centre of his chest. Then he licked up the centre of Will's chest. Then he ran his tongue in circles around the hollow at the base of Will's throat.

Will closed his eyes again. He spread out his arms and stretched until he felt the edges of the mattress curve under his fingers. All this space. They'd been sleeping practically on top of each other every night, and Will had bumped his head a few times trying to get comfortable or more advantageously situated during more strenuous activities. They'd joked about needing a larger bed, but Will had been utterly shocked to return to the Pearl that afternoon to find Shimura on his knees making a final adjustment to the headboard.

"Ah, Will, mate, good to see you," Shimura had said casually. But when he turned his head Will thought he saw him wince. Will was early.

Jack had skidded into the room seconds later. "So much for the element of surprise," he'd muttered. "I thought you were having dinner with Kay and Franklin tonight."

Will had just blinked and stared at the huge bed. "I was, but the baby was a little out of sorts and one of the little ones fell and had a skinned knee Kay needed to tend, and I didn't want to be a bother. What is this?"

Shimura got up and gathered his tools. "It's your new bed, mate. So, you have fun with it, I'm going ashore. Cheers." He winked and made a hasty getaway.

Will had stared a moment more, then helped Jack fit the new mattress, thicker than the old one and stuffed with cotton scrounged from various sources. "It's a tad lumpy, but I'm assured that if you roll it up every morning it'll sort itself out. Shimura designed it all."

Will nodded and watched Jack spread a new sheet, made from two old sheets sewn together, over the mattress. "We'll have to get some new linen, eh, next time we go ashore… Will? What's wrong?" Jack was concerned because Will was biting his lip and having that watery look he sometimes got. "Will?"

And then Will was on Jack, and there were no more words for a while, except for a few "Oh God"s and a couple of "Jesus! Will!"s. Tackled, Jack was; tackled and stripped with no more dignity than a duck being plucked before slaughter. But it wasn't slaughter that followed the stripping, and Jack had arched under the assault of Will's mouth, gripping his hair when he swallowed Jack's cock. That was when the first "Jesus! Will!" slipped out.

Jack spread his whole body over Will and spread his arms to grip Will's wrists firmly at the edges of the bed. "Fits well, doesn't it?" he leered. "Gives me all sorts of ideas!" He wriggled his cock against Will's, pleased to feel it harden in response. After all, it must have been an hour or so since they'd spent in each other's mouths, lying diagonally across the mattress, christening the new bed so to speak. Jack was inclined to give it a more vigorous trial run.

Will caught his mouth in a wet kiss, all tongue and moaning. Jack didn't resist when the wrists he was supposed to be holding down rose up, followed by hands around his back, and those hands slid down his sides to settle on his arse. "Aye," Jack muttered against Will's chin. He licked the scruffy beard there. "Now that's an idea I can go along with, mate." He pushed his arse back into Will's hands. When Will's long fingers squeezed him, and one hand crept toward the hot crease, he didn't bother to suppress the shudder. Pleasing each other with their mouths had, as always, been delicious. But having Will take him on the new bed appealed to him in a more visceral manner.

But there was a timid knock on the door. "Who is it?" Jack shouted in his best intimidating pirate captain voice.

Will quivered a little under him. Oh, so the lad wanted to play pirate tonight. Jack could accommodate that. But then a voice answered, "It's Elsie, Captain Sparrow."

"Curses. I forgot." Jack jumped up and pulled on a pair of trousers. "Just, um…" Jack looked down at Will's body, stretched out across the bed. Naked. Just sweaty enough to give him a soft glow. And hard. Sweet Jesus, he was hard and Jack wanted nothing more than to…

"Captain Sparrow?"

Jack brutally crammed his cock into his trousers and pulled on a shirt. He dragged a quilt out of the trunk next to the bed and threw it over Will. "Stay covered!" he commanded. He didn't care if the little wench had gone and married that strapping young man. He'd seen the look in her eye plenty of times when she saw Will fully clothed, he wasn't about to let her take a gander when the man was naked, not to mention hard.

Jack opened the door and stood in front of Elsie, dishevelled as a pirate could be, but at least he was mostly covered up. "Come in, I'll get your payment."

Elsie entered the room. She noticed the sturdy table that dominated the room, and the open trunk, almost full of bedding. She saw the wide, strong new bed and the mattress she'd help to make with the other women, and the sheets they'd sewn together. She saw the quilt thrown haphazardly over the stock-still form of Will Turner. "Oh, hello, Will. Lovely night, isn't it?" she said casually.

Jack narrowed his eyes.

Will smiled and gave her a little wave, careful not to dislodge the quilt. "Good evening, Elsie."

Elsie leaned to the side to get a better look at what Jack was doing. He looked back over his shoulder at her. "Imagine my surprise, eh," he said as he dragged a tin box from the inside the false bottom of the dresser, "when I discovered that Barbossa and his thieving lot never found this?"

Elsie stepped closer to the table and fidgeted at its edge with nervous fingers.

He put the tin on the table with a great flourish. "You've never seen any like these before, I'll warrant."

She nodded eagerly, urging him to open the box with a gesture.

Jack grinned, waggled his eyebrows, and flipped the lid.

Elsie's eyes grew as big as saucers. "Ooh, my!"

Will strained to see what was in the tin without losing the quilt.

Jack's smile showed a good deal of pride. "Been collecting them for years," he said.

"They're lovely," she gushed.

Will slid to the edge of the bed and sat up, desperate to see more, but he couldn't see inside, so he stood clutching the quilt so it at least covered the most important parts.

"Lovely," Elsie repeated as she glanced over at the gleaming chest and hard nipples to her right.

Jack side-stepped swiftly to get in between Will and the woman. He gave first Elsie, then Will a warning look.

"I want to see in the box, Jack!"

Jack grabbed the box and held it closer so Will could see inside, shuffling so Elsie could no longer see the box or Will. Will took the box and sat down again. Jack shifted the quilt so Will was mostly covered again. Everything was just so.

Thimbles. Dozens of thimbles. Plain ones, delicately carved ones, shiny new-looking thimbles and old, scratched, tarnished ones, all sorts of sizes and designs. The box was full of them. Will looked up at Jack, who'd lost the look of pride and was now looking a bit sheepish.

"Just put them aside, all these years. Any time I ran across one. Don't really need them anymore, and I heard Elsie here complaining to her mother when they were making the sheets that they didn't have any. So, we struck an accord. They sewed the mattress and the sheets for me, and, well, I don't need to be collecting those sorts of things anymore."

Jack handed the box to Elsie, but before he closed it, he plucked a tiny black, velvet bag from within. "All but that," he said. "You can keep the box, too."

"Well, there's quite a lot of them. I'd say the work will be much easier now. So, thank you very much, Captain. It is a pleasure doing business with you. And I'll see you both. Later. Sometime." She backed out of the room with the box in her hand and her eyes on Will.

"Say ‘hello' to your husband for me," Jack said cheerfully, making Elsie turn to go. Jack locked the door after her and sat down beside Will.

"Thimbles?" Will asked.

Jack held up the black bag and pulled out a delicate silver thimble carved with tiny flowers and vines, with a well-worn spot in the centre of one flower marking where the user had pushed a needle thousands of times. Will took it between two fingers and held it up to the waning light from the setting sun.

"It's beautiful."

Jack put the thimble back in the bag and put it on the shelf. "Don't need to collect them anymore." He frowned.

Will nodded and pulled Jack's shirt up. He didn't want Jack to get maudlin, and they did have a rather large new bed to break in, so he didn't think Jack would mind. Jack shucked his trousers and rolled over on top of Will. "Was I in the middle of something?"

"I don't know, Captain," Will teased. "Were you?" He writhed under Jack and sighed.

Jack ran his hand over the smooth, hard chest. "So perfect," he murmured. "Would be a shame to mar it."

"Mar it how?" Will asked, wondering if he should be getting nervous.

Jack looked up with a look of exaggerated innocence. "Nothing, luv, just one of the lads was mentioning he had some training with tattoos. I was just wondering if you might look good with one."

Will gulped. "I don't think I would, Jack."

Jack smiled. That was one of his favourite configurations of lickable lines waving across Will's forehead. Perplexed. Wary. A little anxious, but not frightened. "Come now, luv, it doesn't hurt much. You might look nice with a Jolly Roger inked across yer chest." He sketched a skull with a blunt fingertip and watched Will squirm beneath him. Jack seized an arm and held it out beside Will. "Or a lovely ship, here," he pinched the bicep lightly, "so it would look like there was a gale when you bent your arm." Jack traced the vein on the topside of Will's forearm. "How about a naked woman here, and you could make her dance by making a fist."

Will laughed nervously. He was fairly certain Jack was joking about most of this, the last one in particular. Jack wriggled down Will's body and stopped when his eye was level with Will's navel and flat stomach. He nipped at the taut golden skin, just below the navel to one side. "Right here." His voice was muffled by the belly under it. He licked a circle on the skin. "Perfect skin for tattooing. Tight, smooth, no flaws. Tastes delicious."

Will moaned and pressed his stomach up against Jack's mouth. "Taste is relevant?"

Jack formed an ‘o' with his lips and sucked gently. Will jerked and his hard cock smacked the side of Jack's chin. Jack let go. "If you had a tattoo there, I'd want to lick it all the time. So it would be a good thing you taste so good." He licked the spot, bright pink from his sucking. "You can't get a tattoo. You're too flawless. Plus, you're already perfect." Too perfect, but he didn't say it out loud, it would only embarrass Will. "Besides, what picture would you want, anyway?" he mused.

Will gazed down at him with soft eyes. "I don't know, maybe a sparrow?"

Jack shot up the bed to kiss Will's mouth. "That'd be marking yourself too close, luv. Tattoos are forever."

"Forever," Will repeated. "Yours." He kissed Jack eagerly, "And not just in your bed." He licked a stripe down Jack's cheek and nipped at his chin.

"Your bed, Will, ours. Yours, mine, ours. Everything is ours."

Will stopped nibbling on Jack's neck. "What?"

"Ours."

"What's ours."

"Everything, luv."

"Which everything?"

"Everything. The bed, the cabin, the ship. It's ours."

"Don't be silly, Jack."

"Don't be calling me silly."

"It's your ship."

"Bloody right it is, and I've fought hard for her. But if she's mine, she's yours too."

Jack didn't like the way Will was just lying there, perfectly still, staring up at him with those fathomless brown eyes. Like he didn't believe him.

"Will, luv, you don't believe me? I've spoken to the lads, they all understand. The Pearl is as much yours as she is mine, mate. It's the Gods' truth. Plain and simple."

Will shook his head. No.

"My ship not good enough for you then, eh, whelp?" Jack fixed him with a look more suitable to one of Tessie's lectures than a pirate captain.

Will laughed in spite of his own seriousness. "That's not what I mean, and you know it. You can't just give me your ship."

"I haven't. She's not yours, she's ours. There's a difference, you know. And… I know you want to spend time with your family and all, and I can accept that, but I want you to know for sure that no matter where I end up sailing or where you end up staying, we'll always be together, the Pearl will always be ours, and this bed will always be ours, and no one else will share it with me." Jack ended with a kiss to Will's astonished face. Right on the tip of his nose.

"Ever," Jack added for good measure.

Will blinked.

He had that watery look again. Jack hated that look. There was nothing for it. Jack would have to fuck him until it was gone. That usually did the trick. He kissed Will thoroughly and pressed against him. "I believe you had a plan earlier?" he growled into Will's ear.

"Aye, I did, Captain, but it appears my plan has changed." He spread his long legs and Jack settled between them, with his hard cock nudging the base of Will's bollocks. "I think you'll have to be the man doing the breaching tonight." He rolled his hips up and Jack slipped down.

Jack ground his hips and groaned. "With pleasure, mate." He bent to take a perfect, brown nipple between his lips and suckled on it while he reached for the oil. His fingers brushed by the velvet bag and the thimble dropped off the shelf, landing directly on Will's eye.

Will flinched and Jack kissed his closed eye tenderly. "I'm sorry, luv."

Will grinned and held up the thimble, squinting with the unlucky eye but it hadn't been heavy enough to do any real damage. "Had to happen, Jack. Unfinished business. Come on, then. Let's have it."

The fucking wouldn't happen until the thimbles had been explained.

"It was my mother's."

Will looked at Jack.

"It was her favourite. She gave it to me when I left home. Told me to keep it close to me, and I would return it to her. But I won't be seeing her again. Don't look so forlorn, Will. I'm a grown man, I‘ll not be coming apart because my mother passed on. I spoke to Alex about it yesterday and we talked a long time. I feel bad I couldn't be there for her, but we're square, my mother and me. Honest."

"But why a whole box of them?"

Jack shrugged. "I don't know, I started collecting all sorts of thimbles when I ran across them. I guess I thought I would bring them all to her. I knew she would like the pretty ones, but then I couldn't let a one of them slip through my fingers. Got to be a bit of an obsession."

Will just kept looking at him.

"You never know which one is going to fit perfectly, you know," Jack continued. "It might be one that looks all worn and scarred on the outside, but it fits, perfectly. You never know."

Will placed the thimble carefully on the shelf, then he pushed Jack down so he lay on his back. He was thrilled the bed was now large enough that they could do all this changing of position without having to shuffle or bump into the wall. He lay on his side and looked down at Jack. Naked. Glistening with a light sheen of sweat. And hard. He trailed his hand over the firm chest, marked with scars and tattoos. He traced around bullet wounds, he ran his fingers down to the scar on Jack's thigh where the spear had pierced him, and over to his arm where more scars criss-crossed the inside of Jack's forearm.

"I know exactly what you mean," he said quietly. He lifted Jack's other arm to his mouth and licked across the sparrow tattoo and the crinkled skin of the pirate brand. "Sometimes the one that's all worn and scarred on the outside fits the best." He pulled Jack up to him and they curved together gracefully. "But Jack, I have some bad news," he whispered close to his ear.

Jack held Will close. "What is it, luv?"

Will licked the ear gently. "I must confess, I am a terribly inconstant man tonight. The plan's been changed again, Captain. I think that I going to have to be the one fucking you."

Jack melted back against the new mattress. "Aye, well, I think that's a change in plan I can manage."

---

Chapter 87 - A Change in the Wind

Captain Jack Sparrow stood in the shade of a palm tree watching Will, Matthew and Shimura fit a door to the barn, which meant the island now had a barn to house the cow, which was now pregnant, and the bull, which still seemed to hate Jack, and a few goats.

The poultry, unfortunately, seemed quite happy to be allowed to roam as they fancied. Jack had to spend a good deal of time avoiding the free-ranging chickens.

Will laughed at something Matthew said, and Jack could feel how happy he was from across the clearing. He glowed, he was so bloody happy. He and Matthew were best friends it seemed. They spent hours together at the forge, and Matthew was proud to have helped fashion the hinges for the barn door. They sometimes ate dinner together and talked late into the night, and Jack knew he should be jealous but he couldn't bring himself to it, because Will seemed so happy. Jack couldn't bring himself to feel anything but gratefulness for someone who made Will so happy.

Will spent his days working hard, which was what Will liked to do, building the village and fashioning swords and knives and whatever else was needed. He spent many of his breaks with the various children, who all adored him. And the women fawned over him constantly.

Jack figured all this should be causing him endless concern, for Will seemed to be getting everything he needed from other people. However, whenever the work or the talks with Matthew or the times when the women fawned over him or the games with the children were done, Will made a beeline for Jack.

After working hard at the forge, he always looked around to see if Jack was about. Whenever Jack was about, he would make his way across the clearing to wherever the pirate lurked, and he would get as close to Jack as he dared with everyone watching and the smile on his face was always one of invitation. Sometimes he even interrupted his hard work to smile at Jack, or spend a moment just looking into Jack's eyes, which, as it usually turned out, was a ridiculously intimate thing to do in public and should have caused Will far more discomfiture than kissing or embracing, but he did it anyway.

And when the day was over, dinner eaten and talks finished, Will always retired to the captain's cabin aboard the Black Pearl. There the village was left behind. Matthew and the women and the children and the work and the barn and the bloody cows didn't exist anymore.

In their new bed, or on the table, or up on the forecastle if the boat was deserted enough, Will gave himself to Jack fully. And Jack gave himself back, more than he had ever given to anyone in his life.

Jack smiled. That was enough.

Well, it would never actually be enough. Jack would never get enough of that beautiful mouth, and those exquisite eyes, and that perfect arse, and that delicious chest, and those long, long legs. Or was that his exquisite mouth, perfect eyes, delicious arse and beautiful chest? However you said it, those legs were long. Deliciously, exquisitely, perfectly and beautifully long. And Jack would never be able to get enough.

Jack always tried to get more. If no one seemed to be looking, he would touch, kiss, lick, suck, rub against – whatever he thought he could get away with. Sometimes Will pushed him away with a harsh look. Not really a harsh look. Will never looked at him harshly. He would try to give a harsh look, and the harshness would usually turn to pleading.

Sometimes Jack would relent. He didn't want Will overly embarrassed. Sometimes Jack would persist, and Will would melt under him, unable to resist the tenacious and talented mouth and hands of Captain Jack Sparrow. Jack couldn't help himself. Will was simply too delicious. And exquisite. And perfect.

Whenever Will and Jack were caught in some compromising position, Jack was always assigned the blame. The person who ran across them would smile at Will and wait for him to blush and then send him on his way, and then she would turn on Jack with a fury. It was always a *she*. Jack suspected the women of the village kept close tabs on his whereabouts, and that the instant both Jack and Will were out of sight, the women had some sort of wager going as to who would locate them first.

Bloody women. Jack could vaguely remember a time when he sought out women, desired them night and day. That past was so distant it was another lifetime.

Jack watched Will walk back to the forge with Matthew. On the way, they met Alphonse. Matthew wrapped his arm around the preacher's waist and kissed his cheek. There was no mistaking the strong bond between those two. That was one reason Jack could feel no jealously about Will's friendship with Matthew. Jack watched Alphonse nuzzle Matthew neck. Matthew leaned into him, and Jack would have sworn Alphonse was rubbing his cock up against Matthew's hip.

No one ever took issue with Matthew and Alphonse showing affection toward each other. But then, Matthew and Alphonse weren't pirates.

Jack sighed. This was no place for a pirate. He missed the open sea. He missed the sun and the ocean and the wind and the peace and quiet. Pirating was hard work, but only on one day out of ten. The rest was moving from place to place, enjoying the fruits of one's labours and not doing much of anything. Will would hate that, he knew.

Bootstrap placed his hand on Jack's shoulder. "I recognise that look in yer eye, Captain."

Jack shrugged the hand off. "Oh really, William. How perceptive of you. And what, pray tell, is this look?"

"You miss her."

Jack thought about denying it. He considered pretending he didn't understand what Bootstrap was talking about. But it would have been too great a lie. Whether Bootstrap was referring to the open sea, or the Black Pearl, or the Pearl on the open sea, he was right. Jack could only nod.

Bootstrap put his hand on Jack's shoulder again. "You've got to talk to him sometime, Jack. You can't just leave in the night."

Jack nodded again.

"And if you do just leave in the night without talking to him, it won't matter that the Black Pearl's the fastest ship on the ocean; I will hunt you down and cut your bollocks off, because that's my son's heart you're holding in your hand."

Jack had never been frightened of Bootstrap Bill Turner in all the years he'd known him. Until that moment. He nodded again.

"It's fine to feel a change in the wind, Jack, but don't you hurt him."

Will put his tools away for the night and brushed some dirt off his arms. He smiled as Jack approached. "Jack! I was planning to go up to the springs to bathe before dinner. I thought," he looked to the left and the right, then lowered his voice, "you might like to join me."

Now, there was an invitation Jack would be hard pressed to refuse. He nodded, perhaps a bit too eagerly, and in no time at all was hauling buckets of hot water from spring to bathtub while Will scrubbed at his skin with a handful of white sand.

"Feels good to be clean," Will said as he stood up. He dumped a bucket of cool water over his body.

Jack dropped his bucket into the bathtub.

Wet was always a good look on Will.

"Tub's a bit hot, don't you think?" Will said.

"Whatever you think," Jack said. He chose not to admit that he'd let the water get a touch too hot because the cold spring was on Will's side of the tub. He stripped off layers of pirate wear while gazing at the lovely sight of naked Will Turner bending, with his back to Jack, to fill the buckets, then carrying them to the tub, one after the other, until the temperature in the tub met with his approval.

"Lovely," Will said.

"Hmm," Jack had to agree. He dumped a bucket of cold water over his body to rinse off any dirt, but it wasn't cold enough to do a thing to tame his cock. When he turned around, Will was staring right at it.

Please, Jack pleaded soundlessly.

And Will licked his lips.

I love it when he does that, Jack thought.

Will's hand trailed down his torso and curled around his semi-hard cock.

But I love it when he does *that* even more, Jack silently added.

Will gave him a wicked grin. He tightened the grip on his cock and stroked it a few times.

Jack made a small moan.

Will stepped into the tub. Long, wet, shiny limbs spread in the water, invitingly. Jack took his place immediately, nestled between Will's legs with his back against Will's chest. Closest thing to paradise on earth, he thought. The only thing that could have made it better is if one of them was inside the other.

"Have you got any of that slippery hair stuff," Jack asked, trying to sound innocent but failing miserably.

Will chuckled and nuzzled his hair. "Not today." He snaked his arm around Jack and cupped his hand under Jack's bollocks. "We'll have to make do without."

Jack pressed back against Will and wriggled, trying to get the hand to slide up to his avid cock. "Fine, luv, whatever you say."

Will obliged him by sliding his hand up to take hold of the thick shaft. "Besides, I might be tempted to straighten your hair out again, and that wouldn't do would it? I mean, a pirate on the open sea with combed out hair?" He flicked his thumb over the head of Jack's cock. "That wouldn't be very pirate-like, would it?"

Jack laughed nervously. The thumb on his cockhead was making him dizzy. He didn't like the way Will was talking. As if he knew Jack was going to leave, when Jack had not even decided for sure. Almost for sure. He had to leave sooner or later, but he hadn't decided when. Not yet.

The water in the tub might have been a bit too hot after all, because he felt himself go weak. Pirate on the open sea. "What do you mean?" he rasped.

"You're planning on leaving. The Pearl is shipshape, the sails repaired, the hull scraped clean as a whistle, the crew is restless, and you," Will ran his fingernails up the hard shaft, "you miss the sea."

"Bloody… Will, I can't talk about that when…"

"What?" Low and rumbling in his ear.

Jack gritted his teeth.

Will reached around with his other hand and ran his index finger between Jack's left bollock and his groin. "So don't talk." The finger slipped down and rested against the puckered entrance. "Or I could stop and we could talk." He circled the entrance with the pad of his finger, pressing gently. "So you decide, Jack. How do you want me to use my tongue?"

Jack gave a tremendous shudder. "Oh, God, Will, are you trying to kill me?"

"No," Will said, and rested his lips just beneath Jack's ear. "But I know you're planning to leave, and I want to make sure you remember me." He sucked Jack's earlobe and teased the end of it with the tip of his tongue. "Whenever you sail," he whispered.

Jack went liquid. He took the deepest breath possible and plunged under the water, turning over as he went, and wrapped his arms around Will's hips.

Will had no idea how long Jack could hold his breath. That was his last thought before lips clamped around the head of his cock. He dropped his head back on the edge of the tub and moaned. It was loud enough to make Shimura, who had been heading to the spring for his own bath, turn around on the path and head back to the village. He'd much rather bathe later, by moonlight, anyway.

Jack was ecstatic. Will's cock in his mouth made it easier to stay under water. The bulk of it stopped his urge to take a breath, and the taste filled his mouth, better than air any day. He pushed his lips down the shaft and felt his mouth fill. He had to stop when the head nudged the back of his throat. He couldn't figure out how to get the right angle, how to make the muscles relax without breathing through his nose, how to… it didn't matter, because his lungs were starting to burn and the way Will's legs were moving, squeezing his shoulders with hard thighs and calves rubbing against his hips, made him ache to have the cock somewhere else.

Jack burst out of the water and took a gulp of fresh air. Will had his head thrown back, lovely long throat exposed, hands gripping the edge of the tub so tightly the veins on his arms stood out in sharp relief. The water lapped at his nipples, hiding them first, then flowing back so the hard tips were exposed, the round, brown discs wrinkled and begging for Jack's tongue to soothe them, then hiding them again.

"Jesus, Will," Jack gasped.

Will rolled his head up and looked at Jack with hazy eyes. "Shouldn't I be saying that?"

Jack flashed gold teeth at him. "You," he said after another deep breath.

Will lifted one hand and ran his fingers through his long hair. "Me?"

Jack nodded, speech lost for the time being. He slid forward, legs tucked up at his sides, took Will's cock in his hand and floated above it. He rubbed the wide head around his tight hole. "Mmm, you," he hummed.

"Jack, no!" Will pushed him off in alarm.

Jack flailed in the water for a second, until he felt Will's hands on his hips, turning him, lifting him. His arms were flung over the side of the tub, his arse was pushed up above the water line, and the next thing he knew there was a hot mouth on his hip.

"Preparation, my dear captain," Will murmured against his smooth flank. "I'll not be hurting you."

Jack shivered and waiting for the first hot lap of Will's tongue against his opening. Heaven, that was, pure and simple. There was no way he could give that up, not for the Pearl or the open sea or any treasure on earth. Will licked at him, soaking him with spit, waking every nerve in his arse, making him spread his legs shamelessly. Then Will speared his tongue and jabbed at the tight hole, and felt Jack open up to him.

Jack's legs thrashed in the water. Will ignored them, tightened his arms around Jack's writhing hips, held him as steady as possible. He plunged his tongue inside, wriggled it as much as he could, sealed his lips against the hot crinkled skin, didn't think this would be the last time, but it might be the last time for a while because he knew Jack wanted to leave and he wanted this so very much. He fucked the hole as deeply as he could with only a tongue, moved his lips over the sensitive flesh, it was as much kissing as fucking until Jack made that noise he loved so much, the noise he only ever made when Will's tongue was up his arsehole as far as possible.

"I love the way you taste," he said as he pulled back. And he did. Hot and sour and spice and musk on Will's tongue. It made Will's cock yearn.

Jack could only groan in answer.

Will gave one last, lingering lick and rose out of the water. His cock slid in with minimal resistance from Jack, who pushed back so hard he ended up sitting on Will's lap in the water with a loud splash.

"Don't move," Will whispered in his ear. "I want to enjoy this for as long as I'm able."

Jack moaned.

"I love being inside you," Will said.

Jack whimpered.

"Almost as much as I love you being inside me."

Whimpered like a puppy.

Will rocked his hips once, which was enough to bring tears to Jack's eyes.

"Stop, I… don't stop… move…. I… Jesus, Will."

"You already said that."

"Well, fuck. I'm not going anywhere, Will. Not without you. The lads can take the Pearl, for all I care."

Will thrust up once. Twice. Thrice.

Jack gasped.

"You giving away our ship?"

Jack nodded. Then he shook his head. Then his head fell forward as he gripped the edges of the tub, because Will's cock was splitting him in two, yet it wasn't in deep enough. Never enough. Frustrating, that was.

"Then I guess I'll have to go with you."

Jack rolled his head back up, unsure of what he'd heard.

"Can't have you giving away that nice big bed, can we?"

"What? But this is your home."

Will moved his hips, somehow, in a circle that made Jack's cock throb.

"You can always visit home, Jack."

Will was being maddeningly calm.

"Your work," Jack said. "The village."

"Well, why do you think I've been spending so much time with Matthew?" There was a hitch in his breath, proving he was human after all, but this amount of control was absurd. "I've been training him to be a blacksmith."

Ah. Training him. To take Will's place. So Will could feel free to…

"I'm all packed and ready to leave whenever you are, Captain Sparrow."

And Jack's cock exploded, sending thick white cream into the clear water.

---

Chapter 88 - Resemblance

A tall woman, squeezed tightly into a flaming red dress that was cut low enough in the front to show nearly all of her substantial bosom, picked her way across the filthy alley behind the brothel and kicked open the door of the privy. She flipped her head back to throw her long tail of curling black hair over her shoulder, dumped the reeking contents of the slop bucket down the hole, and slammed the door shut again.

This had not been such a bad night; that was the most unpleasant task she'd had to perform. In her business, if emptying the slop was the worst it got in a night, things were going very well indeed.

There had been a pair of merchant sailors, very polite and recently paid, therefore quite generous. Then there'd been the owner of the dry goods store near the bank. He was a portly gentleman who did not like to expend too much effort, but since it took little to satisfy him it was no hardship to do all the work and Helena preferred it that way, anyway. There had been an unsavoury sort near the end, but he was shipping out immediately and only wanted a quick fuck, nothing difficult or unusual.

She hummed a little song as her boots tapped on the uneven cobblestones, walking leisurely back to the house, enjoying the night air. She stopped when she noticed something move in the shadows beneath the back veranda. Damn, she thought, she knew she should have brought some sort of a weapon, a stick or a knife. She raised the wooden bucket, preparing to strike whatever rodent, pest or worse emerged from the shadows under the stair.

"Claire! Claire, come quickly!"

Claire was in the hallway, giving the floor a quick sweep. She didn't mind doing a little housework. The madam kept an impeccably clean house, and it was a joy to work for someone who paid fairly and promptly. She'd had a very prosperous night, with a great big tip from that nice new Commodore, what was his name? Whitmore? Whitfield? It didn't really matter. He was a clean, polite man, very decent. He even insisted on having the lamp out when he was with a harlot. Claire giggled. What a silly man.

Still, it was better than the old Commodore had been. He had been polite enough in the parlour, but in the bedroom, he insisted the girl get on her knees, which was rather awkward when strapped into a very tight corset, and he sometimes liked to spend outside the mouth, so the poor girl got drenched. He was more than a mouthful, too, and he could get a little enthusiastic at times. Hard on the jaw, and it sometimes took him a while to find his pleasure.

Claire was mulling this over when she heard Helena's voice from the back alley. What now? Helena was always finding trouble. She rushed through the kitchen to the back door.

Helena was dragging a dark figure up the stairs by one arm. He sagged on the steps, not helping one bit.

"Oh Lord, what is it?"

"Dunno," Helena grunted under the weight of the man. "Don't smell o' drink at all. ‘e's bleeding something fierce, but ‘e's still alive."

Claire bent down as far as her corseted waist would allow. "I'll take the shoulders, you grab the feet. He's tall, but he's not all that broad, we can manage."

The two harlots half-carried, half-dragged the man up the steps and into the light of the kitchen. Claire was thankful she'd thrown an apron over her good frock, because the man's scalp leaked blood all over her lap as she propped him up in a chair. They had both had a good deal of experience dealing with drunks, and found that a body unconscious for another reason was little different. The two women looked down at the man.

"Best clean ‘im up, eh?"

Helena fetched warm water from the kettle and Claire pushed the man's drooping head up. "Goodness, Helena, just look at him. He'd be a pretty one if it wasn't for all this blood." Claire used a rag to wipe the blood from his face. "He's only been hit one or two places on his face, most of the blood's coming from the scalp."

She ran her hand over the bristly short hairs. The dark brown hair had been hacked off unevenly, as if with a knife or sword or something else not designed for cutting hair. There were savage slices in the scalp, some beginning to clot. "Cold water, luv. It'll help stop the bleeding," Claire called out.

Helena brought a basin and towels to the table. "Right mess, that one is. ‘oo would do such a thing?" She wiped at the blood with a cloth soaked in cold water. "Look at this." She fingered a single lock of long, curly hair at the nape of his neck. "'e missed a spot, eh?"

The man moaned and turned his head, revealing a thin, shallow cut on the side of his throat.

"Lucky bugger. Any deeper and that would ‘ave been the end of ‘im." Helena rinsed the towel, turning the contents of the basin bright red.

Claire dabbed at the wound on his neck. It wasn't serious. In fact, it looked like more of a warning than an injury. She looked back up to the face. The man was young, perhaps a few years younger than Claire. He had fine features, beautifully shaped cheekbones and arched eyebrows. Judging by the length of the one curl, he must have had lovely long hair before this was done to him. She held a cold cloth against the worst lump, behind his ear.

The man moaned again and opened his eyes. He was beautiful indeed, even with his eyes a bit unfocussed. Lovely brown eyes he had, and the way his brow creased with concern was adorable.

"Where am I?" he muttered, and tried to rise.

Claire pushed him back down. "Hold on, mate. You'll not be going anywhere just yet. But sit up and we'll get this shirt off you." She urged him forward and peeled the blood-soaked shirt off his torso. "Jesus," Claire hissed. Bruises covered most of his lean torso, some old and turning shades of green and yellow, others fresh and still in the red to purple range.

""oo did this, then?" Helena demanded. She got a fresh basin of water and more clean rags.

"Who are you?" the man asked, eyes darting around the room nervously.

"Relax, luv, you're in very good ‘ands. This ‘ere may be an ‘ouse of ill repute, but we're very nice, aren't we Claire?"

Claire nodded and wiped at an old, unhealed wound on his shoulder. "You're lucky Helena found you out back. If you spent all night out there, you'd have woken in the gaol. Or in the bay."

He slumped in the chair. "That would be fine. There's nothing to live for anyway. I've been cast aside."

Helena tsk tsked. "Aw, yer girl leave you then?"

He shook his head. "My captain. I was never good enough from the start. Now I've nowhere to go. I'm a failure." He bent his arms on the table and dropped his head down in defeat.

Claire petted a section of unharmed scalp. The hair was shorn almost to the skin, sharp and prickly under her fingers. "Is that who did this to you?"

He nodded without lifting his head. "Said I didn't deserve such nice hair."

Claire frowned. She was proud, some said inordinately, of her glossy, blond curls and would be more than upset if anyone ever hacked away at them like that. She studied his profile. He looked awfully familiar to her. Something about the shape of his cheek, the set of his jaw. It was a bit delicate, a bit pretty, but it looked like someone she'd seen before. She knew she's seen him… but maybe not. The resemblance might be striking, if she could remember whom he resembled.

Before she could think of him, the door burst open.

"Madam DeMaurier," Helena said, jumping to her feet.

"What have you dragged into my house? And what have I told you about bringing ruffians in? This is after hours! He probably doesn't even have any money!"

"Ma'am, ‘e was out back and I couldn't just leave ‘im there, ‘e was ‘urt, and ‘e moaned so pitious like, ma'am. We'll just clean ‘im up a bit and make sure ‘e's alright." Helena pleaded in her best innocent tone, which Marina DeMaurier had heard dozens of times before, when the girl was caught sneaking her boyfriends in through the back door.

"I know what you're thinking ma'am, but he's not a boyfriend. We've never seen him before. Although he does look familiar…" Claire nudged the man's head and he lifted it to look blearily at the madam.

Marina dropped the sherry glass she'd been carrying. "Saints alive! Jacob! Get in here!" She stared at the young man with undisguised alarm. The resemblance was uncanny.

Jacob DeMaurier was sitting in the parlour of the brothel with a battered farmer's hat balanced on his knee. He rose immediately and followed the sound of his sister's voice.

In the kitchen he found two of the harlots and Marina surrounding a chair, and in the chair sat a brutally shorn, badly bruised and still bleeding Will Turner.

"Will!" he rushed forward.

The man looked up at him uncomprehendingly.

No, it wasn't Will. It was almost Will. Very close to Will. It was Will but even prettier. Except he didn't have any hair. "My apologies. I could have sworn…" The resemblance…

"*Our* Will Turner?" Marina asked, as if there might be a dozen Will Turner's looking exactly like that about town on any given day.

The man sat up straighter. "Will Turner? You know him?" he asked, showing genuine interest for the first time since he'd woken.

"Aye, I do. And you?" Jacob replied warily.

"You've got to help him. A ship is sailing right now in pursuit of The Black Pearl!"

"Slow down," Jacob said. He pulled a chair up to the table and sat beside the man. "Start from the beginning. Who are you?"

The man took a deep breath. "I'm a sailor from the Serpent Fire."

"The Serpent Fire, you mean the pirate ship?"

"You know it?" The man was terribly confused by this farmer interrogating him. At least, he assumed the man was a farmer. His clothes were ragged and soil stained, and his boots were worn from work. He looked like a poor farm worker, perhaps one spending his whole year's profit on a night on the town. He must have been a freed man, for a slave wouldn't be allowed inside, and if he were a slave, he likely wouldn't have been given any boots at all. Yet he spoke with the diction and accent of a British seaman, and he'd heard of the Serpent Fire, which was quite new in these parts.

"Aye, it's known by every man in the navy, although last I heard it was in the Mediterranean Sea, giving the corsairs a run for their money."

The man couldn't help smiling, even though it made his jaw hurt. "That we did. But we came over months ago."

"Well, I've been out of the navy for at least as long. What business would Captain Nagaraj have with The Black Pearl? Is he after Jack Sparrow?"

The man made an immense effort to tilt his head straight and look Jacob DeMaurier dead in the eye. "You know him as well?" His head lolled to one side and his eyes clouded. Obviously, upright was too much for him to manage at that moment.

"Get him a drink, girls. And for pity's sake, get something to cover him up!"

Helena ran off to get a blanket and Claire poured out two fingers of rum in a glass. Then she poured four more glasses. She didn't think the madam would object to them all having a drink when something so out of the ordinary was happening.

Jacob almost regretted his orders when Helena threw the blanket around that torso. Lovely torso, he thought to himself, in spite of all the bruises. Long and lean, well-developed, perfect rosy nipples. Jacob thought he might give a great deal indeed to see that torso once it was healed.

The resemblance was stunning. A bit paler than Will, and there was a delicacy in his bones, marred on one side of his jaw by a purple swelling but still apparent on the other side. The man was pretty, there was no doubt. Jacob couldn't imagine why any sane person could have marred his beauty like that.

The man tossed back the rum and shuddered.

Jacob placed a friendly hand on his uninjured shoulder. "Relax, you're among friends. We won't harm you in any way."

"Give him a minute, Jacob," Marina said.

He nodded, then he squinted at Jacob in a funny way as if remembering something. "Jacob DeMaurier? The mutineer?"

Jacob grinned. "I'd be the one."

There was a short, harsh laugh. "Oh, that's rich. This is a small port, isn't it?" He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The bit of rum or spit smeared across the back of it shone in the lamplight. Jacob had to lick his lips.

"And how would you know of me?" Jacob asked, then shook his head. "From the beginning, again. Who are you?"

"My name is Charles."

Jacob looked at his stormy, dark eyes. So much pain. "Charles…?"

Charles grimaced. "It's been so long, I'm not sure I remember correctly. I'm called by my first name, or ‘boy'. They're not much for respect on the Serpent Fire." He stopped and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them there was a harder look about them, as if he'd been preparing himself for more pain. "Dubois, I believe my name was. I was picked up in Acadia by Captain Nagaraj, after he'd acquired the Serpent Fire."

Jacob understood the pain now. He'd heard a few stories about Nagaraj, how he'd escaped the Caliph's prison and ended up in the Caribbean. He made his way up the coast and across to the Mediterranean after the incident in Boston Harbour. His cruelty was legend, although one can never know with pirates. Sometimes they cultivated an image for intimidation purposes only. Jacob knew at least one notorious pirate captain who was nothing like the tales told of him. The bruises on Charles certainly seemed to uphold the reputation of Nagaraj.

"I was, until a very short time ago, Captain Nagaraj's… protégé. He was quite keen on me, trained me, told me what to do, to grow my hair a certain way, to speak softly with the right accent. I didn't understand why. Then, in Tortuga a while back, we met up with Captain Sparrow and your Will Turner. Seems Captain Nagaraj knows them both from a long time ago…" He trailed off and stared at his empty glass on the table.

Jacob nodded. He understood. This young man didn't just look like Will Turner. He sounded like him as well. There was a rumour that the fugitive Nagaraj had been in Port Royal. Norrington used to get very angry if anyone suggested it. He must have come in contact with Will. It would be easy for a man to grow obsessed with Will. To take in this other man, groom him… Jacob shuddered.

Claire jumped forward with the bottle and tipped another two fingers in. Charles lifted the glass and somehow, in spite of the bruises and the mess of his shorn scalp and the fact that he was half-naked and wrapped in a wool blanket, his smile and nod of thanks made her heart flutter. She bit her lip. How unprofessional of her.

Charles sipped the rum slower this time. "And it seems that I don't quite measure up to young Mr. Turner, not in the eyes of my captain at any rate." He ran his hand over his scalp. "He was in quite a fit of rage tonight. This was the least of it. But he's been in a foul mood ever since Will Turner and Jack Sparrow beat us in a fight. I have Will Turner to thank for this," he said, pointing to the knife wound on his shoulder. "Evidently, I'm not useful anymore, and Captain Nagaraj has had his fill of me."

Claire caressed the bristles of hair again. "Poor thing," she whispered. "Left behind."

"We came into town this evening, and Captain Nagaraj met up with a navy captain. They were talking and drinking all evening, and then my Captain dragged me out and pulled his sword on me. He shouted about finally getting revenge. The navy man just stood and watched while he hacked off my hair and kicked me to the ground."

"Why didn't you fight back?" Helena asked.

Charles smiled ruefully. "Too well trained. I'm not to fight back against Captain Nagaraj. It's part of the job."

Jacob snorted. "Not any more it isn't. You've been discharged, mate. Now it's time to work for yourself. You can have a place on my ship, if you want it."

Marina looked at her brother sharply. That was rash. He didn't even know this man, and here he was offering to take him aboard. For all he knew, this boy was a spy. She saw the glint in Jacob's eye. Naughty Jacob, she thought. She knew how taken Jacob was with Will, and the lad did look remarkably like their stepbrother, but would that mean he had the same good and honest nature? No likely, if he'd been trained by the likes of the notorious Captain Nagaraj. She'd have to keep a closer eye on him.

On second thought, there would be no reason for a spy to be treated quite that cruelly. He'd been beaten repeatedly, and the hair, that was a bit much, even for a pirate spy. She had no doubt the boy had come within a hair's breadth of losing much more than just his hair.

"And you know Will Turner?" Charles asked.

Jacob nodded. "He's my stepbrother."

Charles looked stunned for only a moment, then suddenly sat up straight. "Well, if you're the same Jacob DeMaurier who commandeered the Dauntless, we have time to catch them. We'd better get going, because they're setting sail tonight, and this navy captain seems to think he knows where they might be."

"What captain was this, anyway?"

"I don't know his name. Deep voice, very uptight, kept going on about getting his wife back. And getting his revenge on Jack Sparrow."

"Norrington," Jacob and Marina both said at once.

"That's the one. And if it's possible, he seems even more upset than Captain Nagaraj. He said as long as he was allowed to kill Sparrow, Nagaraj could do whatever he wanted to Will Turner!"

---

Chapter 89 - Guard Duty

Captain Jack Sparrow sometimes had trouble believing his sheer good fortune.

He was on his hands and knees, on the top of the watch hill in the middle of the night, it was true, not something most people would view as fortunate. But they wouldn't be taking into account his state of undress, which was complete, and the state of undress of Will Turner, which was almost complete, for Will had kept his stockings on. And the fact that the fine cream coloured silk stockings, pilfered from the captain's quarters of a ship Jack had taken the last time he'd been away from Will and kept safe by Jack until this special occasion, were going to feel wonderful when Will's legs were finally wrapped around Jack's waist.

And then there was the fact that Will lay on his back beneath him and was sucking Jack's cock with a vengeance.

Will moaned around the bulk in his mouth and clutched at Jack's hips, pulling and urging.

Jack grunted. Will wanted him to fuck his mouth. That was a turn of events that, at one point in time, he wouldn't have predicted. He could still remember the shock on Will's face when he'd realised Jack wanted him to spend in Jack's mouth. He could still remember how shocked Will had looked the first time Jack touched his arsehole. He still savoured the look on Will's face the first time they fucked. Wide eyes, soft and dark, mouth open. Innocent? Well, innocence is always relative, but Will's eyes did look innocent sometimes. Probably not now.

He looked down. Will's eyes were scrunched shut, and his mouth was open as wide as possible because Jack's cock was in it to the hilt. The fingers dug into Jack's hips even more. Jack dropped his head down to look further back. Will's hips were thrusting up into the air, his cock hard and wet at the end, thrusting up into nothing, bobbing in the open air, because Jack's hands were busy holding his body up and Will's hands were busy making Jack fuck his mouth. There was something wrong about that.

Jack tried his damnedest to say something, but all that came out was a guttural moan. He pushed back and pulled his cock out of Will's mouth.

Will didn't get upset or worried when he did things like that anymore, not like he used to. He used to assume something was wrong, that he'd done something wrong or offended Jack somehow. Now he merely assumed that Jack stopped him because he'd thought of something better. But Jack hadn't thought of anything necessarily better, he just didn't like the idea of Will's cock waving around in the open air unattended, like.

He crawled backwards, hit a sharp stone with his knee, shifted to avoid it and his cock smacked down under Will's raised arm.

The hair under Will's arm grew in a thick patch of dense, wiry brown, and it tickled the head of Jack's cock. Will, always looking for a new experience, twisted and brought his arm down, trapping the cock in the heat of his armpit.

"Not…" Jack choked.

Not what he had in mind, but he had to admit it *was* excruciatingly wonderful. He hunched his hips and fucked the armpit a few times. "Oh, god," he cried. The hair added an incredible texture to the pressure, and Will was purring, which meant he was getting some sort of enjoyment from it. Jack felt the hand on his right hip slide back and tease at his opening. The pad of a finger pressed into him, just slightly. He wriggled on it, which jolted his cock around in the armpit.

Will's eyes were open now, and they were shining at him. Jack gave in to the tight heat. He arched his back and rubbed his cock back and forth, and was squeezed by Will's arm, tickled by Will's hair, pierced by Will's finger.

Will's other hand was pushing his hip, urging him to fuck harder.

"Will, no… I…."

"Go ahead, Jack. You'll get hard again later," Will panted.

Jack was going to protest he wouldn't, but that would have been a lie. It was easy to get hard when Will was like this. What would have been difficult would have been to stay soft. Will was wild. He was unhinged. Because they were totally alone.

They were not on the Black Pearl. There was a party on the Pearl, because this was the Pearl's last night moored in the cove of the Isla de Meurte. At dawn they would sail. Everyone was taking part in the final party. There was music and food and drink and dancing. They could hear bits of it from up here on the hill. Will and Jack did not know how long they would be at sea, surrounded by all the other pirates, so they volunteered for guard duty. Up here they had unlimited space, a warm wind, and privacy. It might be the last time they could be truly alone for a long time.

The two navy deserters had seemed a tad put out by the whole thing. Murtogg and Mulwhatever, Jack thought hazily. They usually took guard duty at night. Jack was sure they always volunteered so they could do exactly what Will and Jack were doing.

Maybe no exactly what Will and Jack were doing. But something along the same lines. Jack didn't care if they were irritated. They could give up the hill for one bloody night, after all. It wouldn't kill them.

Jack took a quick look around. After all, he was supposed to be on guard duty. The waters around the island were still and empty. Excellent. He shoved one last time into the tight heat under Will's arm and moaned. Will's hands caught him, held him up, held him safe, while he released and gasped and felt his cock throb and his toes curl. He didn't know you could do that from fucking an armpit.

Will eased Jack carefully onto his back, keeping an eye out for stones. This part of the summit was mostly covered with soft green grass and was well away from the edges. Jack sighed. "My God, Will. I didn't mean for that…"

"I know," Will said. "But I did."

Jack did not want to consider that too deeply. The lad was going to turn him inside out one day. Instead, he rolled on his side and pushed Will's arms up over his head. "Mr. Turner, there seems to be a bit of a mess here."

Will let out a giggle. "Oh really?" Jack loved the giggle.

Jack bent his head and licked the smear of seed on Will's bicep. "Hmm, yes I think I can do something about that." He lapped at his own seed and made his way down to where the thatch of hair was soaked with sticky salty wet. "Hmmm," he rumbled as he licked, knowing how the vibrations would tickle while his tongue licked.

Will squirmed desperately. He was so sensitive under his arms. The feel of Jack's thick, hot cock there had almost brought him to his peak. This tongue, so wet, the lips tugging at his hair, the breath tickling him…

Jack sucked every drop of his cream from the hair, throwing his leg over Will's hips to hold him still. More still. Somewhat still. Will was, in fact, incapable of actually being still when anything was happening anywhere near his underarms. It was only one of his many charming sexual idiosyncrasies.

Will's cock bumped against Jack's thigh. Will's mouth was gaping open like a fish gasping for water. "Jack, Jack, please!"

Ah, begging Will Turner, now that was something Jack hoped only he would ever hear. He got up on his hands and knees again and licked down Will's torso, lean and long. He swept his tongue around the lovely navel and followed the trail of thickening hair until his mouth closed over the dripping head.

Was is possible that Will tasted better? Better than what? Jack asked himself. Better than the first time he tasted him? Jack had thought that impossible, because the first time Jack tasted Will was a revelation, and what could taste better than a revelation? But this time, every time, was always better, which was impossible. It had to stop sometime.

But then there was that mathematical proof about how you can never actually get anywhere, because you get halfway from point A to point B, you then go halfway to Point B from there again, and so on and so on and you never really get there, the halfways just get infinitely smaller and Jesus Christ! infinitely better because Point B just squirmed under him and sucked his cock into his mouth!

Ah, things can always get better. Simultaneous cocksucking was one of those things that always seems so very… Oh.

Jack choked on the fat head of Will's cock as Will's tongue snaked around his bollocks. He spread his legs wider, a reflexive response to Will's tongue moving anywhere closer to his… aaahhhhh. His throat constricted around Will's cock as Will's tongue prodded his arsehole. Will purred and spread his legs, lifting them off the ground.

Fuck. Jack didn't know if he could do this. He'd have to be taller, or Will would have to be shorter, or something. But Will's legs just kept lifting and his hips curled up off the ground and Jack licked down his cock and across his balls and it wasn't far now. He strained his neck and Will's legs pulled up so high, his thighs were hugging Jack's ribs. There, he could reach.

And wouldn't you know it, but simultaneous arselicking was even better than simultaneous cocksucking, at least at this particular moment.

Will thrust his tongue into Jack, Jack responded by doing the same and the thighs gripped him tighter. Blunt fingernails dug into Jack's flanks. He slid his hands under Will's arse to steady it and tongue fucked him until Will started to shake all over. Will's mouth tore away from Jack as he groaned and the seed spurted from his cock. Jack thought about moving up Will's body so he could catch it in his mouth, but the delicious spasms of the arsehole under his tongue were simply too… delicious.

Will squirmed out from under him and flipped over onto his hands and knees. "Fuck me, Jack."

Jack, with his tongue still hanging out of his mouth, chest covered in semen, was stunned.

Will arched his back and lowered his forearms to the ground, sticking his arse up in the air in a manner that could only ever be called voluptuous.

Jack was not kidding about having trouble believing his good fortune.

"Come on, Jack. Fuck me!"

Jack couldn't believe he'd made Will ask twice. He leapt behind Will on his knees and leant against him. "Hang on a minute, luv," he rasped and scraped the seed from his chest with the side of his finger. He wanted to lick it, but instead he spread it over his cock. He rubbed his wet cockhead in a circle around the hole. Heat. He pushed in, just so the head went past the ring of muscle. Pressure. He let his weight fall forward so he sank all the way in. Purring.

Perfect.

The smell of freshly torn grass as Will's hands scrabbled in the turf. The taste of fresh sweat and grass on Will's back. A whimper.

"Yes."

How beautiful could one word sound?

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes."

Evidently, it got better every time Will said it. Especially when he said it like that, breathless and aching.

Jack took his time. He pulled out and slid back in, gliding, stretching, claiming, sinking.

Will pushed back to meet his every stroke. He made low rumbling purring noises every time Jack pulled almost all the way out and the ridge of Jack's cockhead tugged at the tight ring of muscle. He muttered things under his breath, things he didn't think should be said too loudly.

Jack moved his hands to Will's arse. He knelt up and pulled Will's hips back. Will enthusiastically began to fuck himself on Jack's cock, rising and pushing back, then falling forward on his elbows.

Of course it got better every time. How could it not get better when Will was involved?

Jack's hand slipped and landed on a silk-clad calf. He wanted those legs, those stockings, around his waist, but Will was so open underneath him and he kept saying ‘fuck' over and over again, like some sort of chant, and Jack might have to be satisfied with running his hand up and down the leg.

Will pushed up with his arms, and pushed Jack back. Jack stayed glued to Will's arse. If he couldn't have the stockings around he waist, he was at least not letting his cock out of that incredibly scrumptious arse. So when Will straightened up, Jack did to, and soon they were both upright, although on their knees. And while the angle wasn't actually painful, it was excruciating in its own fashion.

Ah, but with Will upright like this, Jack's hands were free to roam his chest and belly, still a little sticky from earlier, and Jack could feel how Will's cock was pointing up and out and was so hot. Jack wanted it inside him, but that was impossible. He couldn't have Will's cock inside him when his own cock was up Will's arse. Damn.

Jack swayed with Will and wrapped his arms around the heaving chest. He pressed his face against Will's shoulder. They developed a steady rhythm that involved pumping of hips and some truly impressive writhing on Will's part. He had his legs spread and Jack's were between them so the silk caressed the outside of Jack's calves.

"Ship," Will gasped.

Jack wasn't sure he heard him right.

"Ship, Jack, there's a ship."

Jack laid one arm across Will's stomach, and the other he used to push him down so his hands were on the ground and Jack could see the ocean past Will.

There was a ship. How had he missed it before? It was a ways off, but it was flashing a signal with a lantern. He gritted his teeth and tried to remember how to use the code. It had been a while, and it isn't exactly easy to remember arcane maritime lore when you're buried balls-deep in Will Turner, is it?

Will was panting, hips writhing of their own accord. "What do they say?"

Jack tried to hold Will's hips still so he could concentrate.

"Well?"

Jack groaned. "Oh, bloody hell, we're under attack!"

Will started to scramble out from under him, but Jack caught him fast and held him down. "Hang on, luv, that's one of ours. The attack won't come for another day or two."

Will looked over his shoulder with a wicked grin. "Oh, good, then we have time to finish fucking properly!"

Jack drew his hips back slowly. "Oh, I'll fuck you good and proper, Mr. Turner. Fear not."

Will lowered his head to the grass and wriggled his arse on Jack's cock. "Then get to it, Captain!"

Dumb fucking luck, Jack thought. He had all the luck on the ocean.

---

Chapter 90 - The Snake

Jacob DeMaurier descended from the forecastle to the deck. Cautious, as was his wont, he approached the man sitting on the barrel and the woman standing at his side. Claire was fussing and cooing over the man, evening out the last bit of his hair.

Stunning, Jacob thought. The smoothly trimmed hair restored balance to the delicate face, and while Jacob was sure that Charles must have been absolutely stunning with long, wavy locks, the lack of them made his eyes look huge, his cheekbones elegant and his jawline perfect. On the left side. The right side was still marred by the purple bruise, but it would heal in time.

Charles stood when he saw the captain approaching. "Sir," he said automatically.

Jacob waved for him to sit. "At ease, lad. We're not sticklers for formalities on this ship."

Claire brushed some tiny bits of hair from his shoulder, and Charles gave her another one of those smiles, the kind that made her feel all fluttery inside.

Jacob frowned. Charles was flirting with the harlot. Jacob didn't blame him. She was a nice enough woman, and although her task was supposed to be caring for Madame DeMaurier on this voyage, she was spending at least equal time fussing over young Charles. It was hard for a man to ignore that sort of fawning attention. From a pretty woman. With masses of blond curls and a bosom that, if you liked that sort of thing, was nothing short of sensational. Yet from what he'd understood, Charles had shared a rather intimate relationship with his last captain. Maybe he really preferred girls, and he'd only been trained to serve his captain. Forced to serve his captain. Jacob shuddered. That was such a horrible thought. And if Charles had been forced to be with a man against his will, then he would be even less likely to choose to be with a man of his own free will. Yet he gifted Jacob with those same smiles, just as flirting and flattering and breathtakingly beautiful.

Jacob was confused. And smitten. Which always made things more confusing.

Claire gathered up the barbering tools. "There you go, dear. It'll grow back in no time at all, but in the meanwhile you're nice and neat. Well, I'll go check on my lady. You make sure you eat a good supper now, Charles." Such a lovely man, she thought. So pretty and really very charming. It was a shame he didn't like girls.

It was a double shame that he'd been trained so well to flirt and flatter girls - such a tease. She sighed. Claire knew all about feigning attraction and making people think they were the most important person in the room, or the town, or even the world, all for the sake of money. But she doubted Charles had ever been paid to do it, not with money. She suspected that his training had been more the sort that used the stick, not the carrot, and that failure to behave in an acceptably attractive manner would have resulted in… she thought about the bruises on his torso, boot marks. If she ever ran across that snake, Nagaraj, she teach him a thing or two.

Charles kissed her hand and thanked her with another dazzling smile. Claire knew it was a false front, but that didn't stop the smiles from getting to her. She wondered what he would be like without all that training. She further wondered if it were possible to untrain him, so he could truly be himself.

Then Charles squeezed her hand, awkwardly. "Really, Mademoiselle Claire. I don't know what I would have done if you and Mademoiselle Helena hadn't found me." He looked down at the deck instead of into her eyes. "I don't know if I can ever repay you." When he raised his eyes again they looked scared.

So, he could be honest. Claire leaned down and gave him a kiss on the forehead. "You just did, dear." And she went to the captain's cabin, which had been commandeered by Marina.

Jacob cleared his throat and Charles looked up at him with unguarded eyes. Jacob had to grab the mast to steady himself from the shock of it.

Charles blinked and was self-assured again. "What can I do for you, Captain?" He stood up beside Jacob. He was a touch taller than the captain, well-built but he would never be bulky. His bones were too fine, his frame too slight. He wasn't as broad as Will Turner, that was evident. He was a bit like Jacob imagined Will might have looked when he was younger, but not entirely. An idealized version of Will Turner. The more Jacob looked at him the less of Will Turner he saw, the more of Charles DuBois he saw. And the more of Charles DuBois he liked.

"I, um, well, I thought you might be able to tell me about Captain Nagaraj."

Charles bit his lip. Jacob had seen Will do that before. It was lovely. Funny how his forehead scrunched up just the way Will's did when he was perturbed. Jacob shook his head. He really had to stop thinking about his stepbrother that way.

Charles looked most perturbed. "Everything?"

"Well, let's start with you enlightening me as to Captain Nagaraj's most likely strategy."

"Ah, of course. Normally he's quite devious, but you have an advantage because he's very emotional about Captain Sparrow," Charles said, "and Will Turner. He wants Sparrow dead."

"And Will?"

Charles looked back down at the deck. "He wants Will the way he had me."

Jacob reached out tentatively, and ghosted his fingers over the bruised jaw. "That man is a beast!"

"Snake, sir. And proud of it. That's why he took that name." Charles eyes Jacob's hand warily. It didn't look as if it would strike him, but a kind touch could easily be followed by a harsh one.

"He'll never have you again. And he won't get Will Turner either. And it's not just me saying that. It's this whole ship, and my brother, and Jack Sparrow."

Charles sighed. "I'm sure he's counting on that, sir."

* * *

Captain Jack Sparrow stood next to Will Turner on the furthest corner of the watch hill. He looked down. Will was holding his penis in his hand. The penis was not anywhere near its full length, but it wasn't small either. It was engorged enough to not be limp yet soft enough that it curved the slightest bit in Will's palms. Will didn't seem to mind that Jack was looking, so Jack just kept right on looking, until a golden spray erupted from it.

That was when Jack got painfully hard.

He hadn't been really hard at all before that. After the spectacular fucking, Will had dressed and rushed down to the village to tell everyone that the Interceptor II was on its way. There had been no need to rush, actually. There was no way a ship could negotiate that narrow passage in the dark – to even take a row boat in there at night would be close to suicidal. It was treacherous in many ways. So the Interceptor II wouldn't be entering the passage until the sun began to rise.

Jack had dressed as well, and flashed the lantern back and forth with the Interceptor II for a bit and discovered that two ships were heading to the island and that they seemed to be travelling together, thus would be arriving at the same time, probably on the next day, after which it seemed pointless to carry on the conversation since there was nothing anyone could do about it until morning, when he could talk to Jacob face to face. So he'd waited for Will.

Will had raced back up the path, so was quite breathless by the time he returned. And while Jack preferred getting Will breathless for entirely other reasons, it was still pleasurable to sit on the soft grass with Will sitting between his spread legs, and to wrap his arms around Will's chest and feel how precisely how breathless he was. He'd pressed his chest against Will's back and felt their hearts beating in a syncopated rhythm.

"Is it Norrington?" Will had asked.

"Most likely," Jack had replied. "But we can stop him. We've stopped him before. Don't fret about that, luv. Relax."

But Will had fretted about it. He was agitated and vexed and not at all interested in relaxing. This was probably just as well, because between the armpit fucking, the mutual arselicking, and the spectacular arsefucking, Jack was knackered. He'd buried his nose in soft curls and hummed a restful tune until Will's breathing and heart slowed, and all that lovely muscle finally leaned back into him.

Then Will had got up to relieve himself, and Jack had followed t do the same, except now he couldn't relieve himself because he was so painfully, suddenly and inappropriately hard.

Will shook his penis a couple of times and that made Jack's cock throb even worse. Jack stuffed it inside his trousers, biting his tongue to keep from making a pained groan.

* * *

Jacob sat on the deck, in the shadow of the dark cliffs of the Isle de Muerte. He couldn't risk entering the narrow passage until light, so he sat beside the still, sleeping form of Charles DuBois. Now that Charles had told him about Nagaraj - all about Nagaraj - he didn't want to let the lad out of his sight.

Charles didn't want to go below deck – it reminded him too much of going below deck on the Serpent Fire. He'd spent most nights in the captain's cabin, but if Nagaraj was angry with him, he would be sent below. There were many men below, most of whom wanted Charles. Some, if they fought Charles well enough, got him.

He was sixteen when Nagaraj first took him on board, and he spent the first few years as Nagaraj's pet. There was another man on board, another Will Turner, by the name of Robert, who was in Nagaraj's bed every night. Charles had a hammock in the little storeroom next to the cabin, where he would cringe and hear everything that was going on, knowing that when Nagaraj grew tired or bored or irritated he would toss out Robert and it would be time for Charles to take his place.

By the time that happened, Charles had been listening and watching and learning for three years, and was quite knowledgeable about what would be expected of him. He'd always excelled at the swordfighting part of the training, and was quite good at the pirating as well, so he only had to be willing in order to not be sent below, and to be kept by Nagaraj indefinitely. Indefinitely, that is, until the real Will Turner came within reach.

Jacob felt sick to his stomach. How could anyone treat someone like that? He stroked in the velvet direction on the lad's head, and then back in the direction that made the cut hairs stick up against his fingertips sharply.

Charles stirred and raised his head. His eyes focused immediately and he smiled at Jacob. "Evening, captain," he said. If he was surprised to find the captain sitting on the deck boards next to where he slept he didn't show it. He raised his torso up and moved his head to Jacob's lap. "Lonely, are you sir?" He nuzzled Jacob's groin, like a kitten, Jacob thought. The wide brown eyes glittered up at him. He breathed out and the heat made Jacob stiffen, along with the friction and the sight of that mouth opening to hover over the bulge in his trousers.

Jacob, gently and carefully, pushed him aside. "You don't have to do that," he said hoarsely. "That's not required here."

Charles looked crestfallen. "But you said you were my captain now."

Jacob nodded. "I am, but I'll not have you doing that sort of thing unless you really want to."

Charles sat up, not as gracefully as usual; the bruises made him move slower, less fluidly, but he was still stunning. "Oh, but I do want to," he said in a low, whispery voice.

Jacob was confused again. His body was telling him one thing, but his conscience was screaming at him to say no, to walk away. This was what the lad was trained to do, he didn't even know what he really wanted. Jacob tried to get up, but there was a hot mouth on his neck and a sleek body pressed against him. Charles raised his head and touched his lips to Jacob's.

So sweet. So perfect. Jacob groaned and pulled away with all the resolve he could muster.

Charles dropped his eyes to the deck. "I understand," he said, and Jacob breathed a sigh of relief.

"No kissing," Charles added.

"No!" Jacob grabbed his arm. "That's not it. I'd like very much to kiss you." So he did. With his mouth closed and his eyes open.

Charles gave a little smile, not the practiced one. He looked almost shy. He was so lovely, Jacob kissed him again, longer this time, with his mouth parted ever so slightly. Charles kissed back. His hand drifted to Jacob's hard cock.

"No," Jacob said, causing Charles to look back at the deck in confusion. Jacob gently pushed Charles so he was lying down again. He kissed his forehead, then his mouth. He was delicious. "I don't…" Jacob cupped the uninjured side of his jaw. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't want to use you."

The brown eyes widened.

"I want to take care of you." And Jacob reached down to stroke the front of Charles' trousers. He wasn't all that hard at all. Of course not. He was only doing his duty. But that didn't last long. Jacob petted the soft bulge nestled on the left side, petted and squeezed while he kissed Charles once more, until it became a hard bulge. This time Charles opened his mouth and licked at Jacob's lips shyly. Jacob licked back and soon there were arms around him, and soft moans coming from the man beneath him. He fumbled a bit with the trousers, distracted by the fingers running along the tight braids in his hair, stroking his head, tugging at the braids in an attempt to get him to kiss harder, which he did to the best of his ability.

He'd never actually done this sort of thing before. But then, he realised, neither had Charles. Charles had never been with someone who didn't want to take advantage of him, who wanted to please him instead.

Jacob found, much to his relief, that once he wrested the hardening cock from the trousers, the rest of it came quite naturally to him. He loved the feeling of the hot flesh in his hand, the texture of it under his tongue, the taste of the seed that filled his mouth. And when he was finished, he held Charles in his arms and it was quite easy to ignore his own hard cock. He held Charles. And Charles clung to him and took deep, shuddering breaths.

"No one's ever…" Charles choked out. "Not without…"

And Jacob was immensely pleased with the way events had turned.

* * *

"Something wrong, Jack?"

He cleared his throat. "Oh, nothing. We'd best be watching, eh? After all, we're on watch, like."

"Don't you have to…?"

"Not really."

"Jack, what's wrong?"

"Nothing, luv."

"You're walking funny. Are you injured?"

"No, a little stiff is all."

"You're limping, Jack. Let me…" Will reached down to check Jack's leg for injury but his forearm brushed across the conspicuous ridge. "Jack?"

"Hmmm?" Jack looked over to the east, where the tops of palm trees were visible in the moonlight. Funny the way those leaves swayed in the light wind, wasn't it?

"You're hard again."

"Decidedly." No point in hiding it. Will had his hand spread over it now and Jack was starting to sway dangerously.

"Do you need some…" Will hesitated. "Help?"

Jack scrunched up his face and pondered for a moment. Even after completing two acts of erotic spectacularness, after which an ordinary man would have been sated to the point of collapse, Jack had not needed Will to be engaged in an act of affection, let alone sex, to make him hard again. Apparently, he needed no help at all. Jack was doing quite well all by his onesie, thank you very much.

"Jack, why are you hard?"

Best not to go there. "No reason, luv." Casual, like.

Will stared at him. Suddenly. The way he stared when something occurred to him. Suddenly. "Jack, were you watching?"

"Watching what?"

"Watching me."

"You what?"

"Um."

Jack took the opportunity to take a step away from Will.

"Pee."

"Hmm?"

"Were you watching me pee?"

Jack fiddled with a braid in his beard. "Well, you were peeing and I was watching, but I wasn't specifically watching you pee, I was just standing like, looking around and there you were…" He let go of the beard and waved his hands in the air, helpless like. That looked ridiculous. His hands went back to the beard.

"Is that why you didn't pee?"

Jack tugged the braid until it hurt. "It was a tad too hard, luv. Thought it best to wait a bit. It's better now. I'll just go over there and pee and then we can forget the whole thing, savvy?"

Will nodded slowly, and Jack shuffled to the edge of the hill and pulled out his cock. Not quite as hard as it had been, but still rather stiff. Jack pointed at the ground and waited, becoming aware of a shadow to his left. Will was there. Watching.

"You're watching."

"Hmm."

"I can't pee when you're watching."

"Why not? I did."

"But you didn't know I was watching."

Will rolled his eyes up and deepened the crease in his forehead. Damn, Jack was painfully hard again. That bloody eyebrow crease did it to him every time.

"Actually, I did know."

Jack was flabbergasted.

Will pressed his body up against Jack's back. His hand came around the front and cool fingers wrapped around Jack's cock, now pointing straight up, in the entirely wrong direction. "Go ahead," the voice came in Jack's ear. "Pee."

"Fuck!" Jack couldn't pee. He couldn't even think. Not with that hand on his cock and that voice in his ear, so low and soft. Jack could feel Will's grin, just behind his ear. "Has anyone ever told you that you are a naughty, naughty boy?" he asked.

"Am I, now?" Will tightened his fingers and waited for Jack to moan. "And had I known you were so interested, I would have let you hold me… while I peed."

Jack's vision went black for a second, and then he reached behind to grab Will's hips. Ah, yes, that was a hardening cock pressing into the cleft of his arse. "Well, now, it seems we have a mutual interest, Mr. Turner."

Will laughed softly in his ear. "I suppose we do."

* * *

Charles moved in Jacob's arms, then woke with a start. There were arms around him, and that was not a good thing when he woke up. He should be sleeping on the floor beside the bed. Nagaraj would send him below deck if he woke with Charles still in the bed.

He tried to extricate himself carefully, but the arms tightened.

"Please, sir, it was an accident…"

He felt two warm hands on the sides of his face, forcing him to look up. But he didn't see the cold black eyes of the Snake. He saw warm green eyes, and a kind face, almost pretty, with smooth dark olive skin and a gentle smile, clean –shaven and framed by what were normally rows of neat braids, braids that were now sticking out a bit in different directions, which made Jacob look young. "I don't think so, Charles. It wasn't accidental on my part, anyway."

Charles blinked.

"If you regret it, I shall not ask it of you again, fear not," Jacob said, a little sadly.

Charles swallowed his instinctive panic. "Regret?" How could he regret such a thing. He'd never known such pleasure, and no one had ever held him like that while he slept, unless they were trying to keep him in the bed against his will. "Not at all, sir. I, um… it was very nice."

"Nice?" Jacob smiled at him. "Nice. Well, not bad for a first try. I shall have to strive harder next time. If you'll allow me." He looks better every day, Jacob thought. With every hour he sleeps soundly, with every meal he eats, with every second he spends on the Dauntless, he looks more and more beautiful. Jacob ran a fingertip along that chiselled jaw line. "You're lovely," he said.

Charles stared at him, open mouthed and stunned.

"With any luck, I'm going to be the one who gets to kill Nagaraj," Jacob said, his eyes turning dangerous for a moment as he scanned the dark ocean for signs of The Serpent Fire. They softened again as soon as he looked back at Charles. "And after that, I hope you'll consent to staying on. With me."

Charles looked at Jacob cautiously. He knew he reminded the captain of someone else. He was tired of trying to be someone else, or at least he was tired of trying to live up to Nagaraj's idea of someone else. "Are you sure it's me you want, or do you want a Will Turner on your ship?"

Jacob shook his head. "No. I thought I wanted Will, even though I knew he was with Jack Sparrow. I thought I wanted him so much I had to stay away from him. But it appears that I was mistaken, my friend. I must have wanted him because he looked like someone else. Because it's really you that I want. Will you stay?"

Charles nodded eagerly. Not only was his new captain beautiful and kind, but he wanted him. He really, truly wanted Charles. Charles knew he wasn't the sort of man who would lie about something like that. Charles dared to smile.

* * *

Jack took a deep breath and finished tucking his shirt back into his trousers. That had been…

Will tossed his head back, curls flying onto his shoulders. He felt dazed. That had been…

…neither of them had expected that.

First Will had jerked Jack's cock to completion, rough and fast and merciless. He was used to Jack spurting onto his stomach or in his hand, or releasing inside his mouth or arse. He was fascinated as he watched the thick cream spout out onto the ground, near the wet spot where Will had peed earlier. It was exciting to watch it from this angle, over Jack's shoulder. Then he'd just held Jack's penis in his hand gently, as Jack sagged against him. Finally, Jack had made a noise, clearing his throat, and Will had pulled him tighter against his chest.

"Go on, please." And so Jack had given up and peed while Will was holding him. He figured he should get it over with or else he'd never get the piss out, because Will was getting harder and harder against his arse and that was only going to get Jack's cock hard again as well. He wondered how long a man could go without relieving himself, and how many times a man's cock could get hard and then erupt like that before it fell off from exhaustion. He'd wondered that right before Will felt his cock stiffen a touch and then the hot piss came out, and Will murmured that he felt it course through the flesh held loosely in his hand.

Will rocked his hips up against Jack's arse, and it was a whimper that Will let out at that point, not a moan. Jack looked around wildly, wondering if there was something they could use to ease the way so Will could fuck him proper, but then again, they really did have to get back to the watch. After all, there was an invasion force on the way.

He slipped out of Will's arms and stood to one side. There was no way he was going to stand behind Will to return the favour – he would only get hard again and then they would never get to work. He grabbed Will's cock roughly. Will spread his legs a bit to brace himself, and Jack pulled up the length of him.

"This is it, Will. All you get. No more of this playing around with the pee. I want you to come hard, and it's going to have to keep you satisfied for the rest of the night, savvy?"

Will nodded, eyes squeezed shut, look of intense concentration. He was hot and heavy in Jack's hand, and he made little mewling sounds when Jack yanked hard. It was over quick enough, once Jack whispered a few things in Will's ear about what he was going to do with him after the battle.

And when it was over, Jack laughed. "Guess that Bible's right about one thing," he muttered. "Shame to waste it on the ground. Would've much preferred it in me mouth."

*****

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