In The Deep
folder
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,489
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,489
Reviews:
3
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Who You Thought You Were
Chapter rating: NC-17
Please review. I appreciate it. ^^
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Chp. 2: Who You Thought You Were
Wham! Jack opened his eyes to the sound of the door to his room flexing inward, wham! WHAM! The frustration that was implied by that sound made Jack certain that the knocking had been going on for at least five minutes. Rum, as usual, insured that he didn’t hear it. He pulled himself to his uncertain feet and made his way to the door, pulling it open.
“Go away,” he growled when he saw a familiar face. For as long as he had been in Tortuga, Edward had been following him around, asking to be a part of his crew. It wasn’t something Jack liked to endure-- he couldn’t look at this boy with Will’s face for long. He turned away from the door, flicking it backwards with a casual gesture that would slam it closed.
The sound of the door shutting never came. Instead, a rough hand grabbed his, pulling him backwards. The door shut then, leaving Jack with his guest in the dark. He had never bothered to turn a lamp on, he rarely found occasion to. Now, he wished for it. The man who was holding his hand so firmly spun him around to face the other way, wrapping arms around him that felt like steel. In the darkness, it wasn’t Edward’s face that moved so close to his. It was Bootstrap Bill… returned from the depths to take him again. He found himself freezing up, imaging that that steel grip was that of a dead man’s, that the lips that suddenly pressed to his tasted of too much sea salt. It wasn’t something that was too hard to imagine… Jack had seen the dead walk before, had spent time in their company.
The arms around him tightened, a firm hip pressing into his own and forcing him to walk backwards. It was as if portions of his life were coming back to him in the darkness. He remembered the first time that Bootstrap had come to him, lust so apparent in his eyes that Jack didn’t even need to look down. He remembered the feeling of being in the other man’s arms, too intoxicated to say anything otherwise… Bootstrap was too intoxicated to stop himself from taking the action that he would surely regret. He had a wife and son at home, a wife and son, a wife and son… Jack had heard about that wife and that son many a drunken night on the Pearl. He never imagined that he’d meet that son, many years later. The rum caused Boostrap to forget the wife that Jack was sure he never would. It caused Bootstrap to make his way into his cabin…
“Captain, I can’t… can’t say you’ll appreciate me bein’ here,” he’d murmured, arms around Jack’s hips, walking Jack towards the table that held all of his charts. Jack felt the small of his back come into contact with that table, so transfixed by Bootstraps lustful gaze that he hadn’t paid any attention to the fact that he was being cornered. Then he’d felt Bootstrap pressing against him, rubbing against the hollow of his hip in a way that Jack longed for… at the same time that it repelled him. He’d entertained the idea of William Turner, but never so realistically. Never in these circumstances, where Bootstrap was pushing him against the table-- Jack liked to be seduced, liked to play submissive… but only on his terms. Bootstrap was kissing him, forcing his jaws to open at the same time that he was reaching down for Jack’s belt…
The man in his room drew away from him, opening his vest and slipping a hand inside. The flesh was cold, like Jack imagined a dead man’s would be. His whole body began to ache with that touch… it was the kind of ache the body assumed when it was being gazed upon with lust. It was an ache of over awareness. With the touch of those cold fingers, Jack became aware of the cant of his own hips, the stretch of skin across his shoulders, the feeling of his hands hanging at his sides… every detail about his body came into sharp, painful contrast. He was pushed down on the bed, followed by his strange assailant. That painful awareness extended to the other man’s body. He became aware of the feeling of every crease in the man’s lips as they caressed his skin, every callous on his fingers, every movement of a muscle as he laid some of his weight on Jack’s body. He felt that kernel of desire within himself awaken, but tried to hold it back. He wasn’t altogether sure about the real identity of this man. He raised his hands, clasping either side of the other’s face, pushing himself back into the bed in an effort to get a look at him…
“Bootstrap,” Jack heard himself mutter as he pushed against Bootstrap’s chest, looking into his eyes again. There was lust there and the effects of rum. The man’s hands were still moving, pushing Jack’s pants from his hips, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it aside.
“William,” Jack’s voice picked up a note of strain as Bootstrap’s hands became firm on his hips, urging him to turn…
“William,” Jack whimpered as the man continued to resist his attempts to look at him. It was a sound born from his memories, born from the fear that the being about to ravish him was undead; should be strapped to a cannon under the waves. The man paused, pulling back enough that Jack could clearly distinguish the much loved curves of his cheek bones, the shape of his lips pulling into a strange smile.
“Jack,” the voice wasn’t Bootstrap Bill’s. That tender note forming his name was Will’s voice, clear as a bell and yet wholly unbelievable. Jack froze in motion, unable to comprehend how this man laying atop him was the same Will he’d been longing for since he’d left Port Royal. It seemed impossible that he had turned Edward away only to have William himself show up in his room. For a long moment, he didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to think that Edward had asked around, that he had learned how to imitate this man… Will dipped his head, capturing Jack’s lips and scattering all his thoughts. Those lips were Will’s. Jack knew every single crease. Those rough hands were Will’s, roughened in such a way to reflect his work as a blacksmith. The broadness of his shoulders, that near tender press of weight atop Jack… the pirate wrapped his arms around the other man, pulling him down on top of him. This was everything he had been wishing for since he left. His finger crept into Will’s hair, pulling it loose of its bindings, running through it when it fell to his shoulders. He offered no more resistance to Will’s hands venturing over his body, that painfully aware feeling that had existed before transforming itself into excitement with every caress. It wasn’t long before he was bucking his hips against Will’s with matched intensity, craving that jolt of movement, of pure friction that made him quiver. His hands moved from their play with Will’s hair, venturing to tug the young man’s clothes away from his body. It seemed as if Will was in anticipation for this moment… his shirt was only partially buttoned, his belt already loosened… the feeling of flesh against his fingertips was a relief that he desired to bring to the rest of his body, pulling Will back atop him. Will was firm against his hip, silky skin sliding over Jack’s. He shivered when they connected briefly, hard against hard, pulling Will against him, trying to impart his desires through his actions.
There were times when Jack liked to be in control, liked to lead the way. There were times when Jack liked to lead the way in such a manner that all control was taken from his hands; all control was willingly delivered into the hands of another person, Pressing himself against William, urging the younger man on with the movement of his hips, with the way he breathed…. Jack knew this was one of those times, The ache spread from his groin straight up his back. Yes, this was one of those times that he wanted to grasp the sheets in his hands, he wanted to bite the pillow and hope that a scream didn’t escape--- was it pleasure, was it pain, or some beautiful mix of both that Jack found himself craving?
Will’s movements against him were slowing and Jack’s mind raced. He didn’t want to scare the naked, excited man from his bed… that would do nothing for the ache that was eating him alive. He needed to draw him in closer, needed him too close… he knew that saying it directly would carry with it the chance that Will would leave. So, he shifted, rubbing his legs along Will’s, spreading them so that he could rub the inside of his thighs along Will’s, in an imitation of a pose Will would be familiar with. Jack knew he’d have to be a bit more flexible for his desires to be fulfilled this way, but he waited for William to comprehend-- to understand-- what Jack was asking for. The young man moved on, it seemed to Jack, without paying heed to his hints. He was moving slowly between Jack’s legs, rubbing himself against the firmness of the tendon that ran from his leg to his pelvis, contrasting with the soft give of Jack’s scrotum. The sensation wasn’t altogether unpleasant for Jack-- no, he could close his eyes and enjoy being rocked, stimulated in such a way-- but it was only intensifying that ache. He tilted his hips up more, pressing his heels into the small of Will’s back, hoping for a slip… Jack was jolted into reality with a sharp stab. All movement halted as his body reacted, trying to push away from Will, and Will paused, confused at what he was expected to do.
“I’m sorry,” Will murmured, trying to shift back to the now sore tendon, “I didn’t mean to…”
“No, no, I want you there,” Jack used his body to keep Will in place, pushing down on the younger man’s hips.
“There?”
“Aye… only not like this. If I were younger, yes… but this is going to hurt my back,” Jack hadn’t wanted to be so direct-- or admit that his back would eventually get sore if William were to penetrate him in this position. The curvature in his spine that he holding now was already causing his muscles to complain. Maybe another time, after a massage so that he was more limber…
Will was pulling away, sitting back on his haunches. Jack tilted himself up his elbows to look at the younger man. Looking at him in such a state of excitement caused that ache inside of Jack to grow to the point of unbearable. He looked around the room and seized upon a used dinner tray that still contained a pat of butter, “If you’d given me more warning, lad, I wouldn’t have to improvise so”
“What’s the butter for?”
Jack couldn’t stop himself from giving Will a sour look, “No doubt Elizabeth lubricates herself, aye? I don’t, and I want to be able to walk in the morning. If you’d given me more warning, I’d come up with a better lubricant. You’ve tackled me in an unprepared state, so we get to use butter.”
He sat down on the bed beside the younger man, scooping his fingers into the soft, yellow butter. He never imagined he’d end up using it in such a way… but he couldn’t afford to be picky now. Besides, he had used lard in the past for such a situation… and more uncomfortable substitutes that ended up hurting more than helping. Alcohol was not to be substituted. A hard lesson Jack had learned with the help of Bootstrap. He rubbed the butter in his hands for a moment before laying a hand on William’s erection. Will’s eyes hooded as Jack began to stroke him, and he leaned his head back, exposing his throat in such a way that Jack had to duck his head, had to kiss the tender skin that was to be found there. As they settled into a steady rhythm, Jack laid his other hand upon himself. Stroking Will and himself, it was easy to imagine the act that he was about to partake in… it was easy to imagine the stiffness that ran through his fingers sliding inside of him, easing that ache… he slid his hand back, making sure that he was well lubricated in anticipation. He slipped a finger inside to assure himself that the pain would be minimal when it was Will’s turn to enter him, then returned his hand to his own erection.
“How are we going to…?” Will’s voice was soft and breathy in his ear, his hand reaching out to join Jack’s in the act of stroking. Jack smiled, leaning his forehead against his chest.
“I’m going to turn around, love…like this…” Jack took his hands away, pulling himself from William’s, and turned. He smiled when Will didn’t hesitate to reach out and touch him, rough fingers tracing the backs of his legs, across his buttocks and back, “you’re going to take my hips…”
“Like this?”
“Aye…like that, and then…” Jack knew he could stop leading William, The young man’s strong hand sliding along his body, long fingers seeking to press inwards told him that much. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, just allowing himself to feel. There was a little bit of pain as Will pressed in two fingers… that was normal, to be expected. In this instance, that burn felt good, felt delicious as Will moved his fingers in and out, around. Jack felt his body shudder as the fingers were drawn away, replaced by something else. Something else that Jack desired… had desired since he had laid his lips on its silken head on the deck of the Interceptor. Will’s hands grew tighter on his hips as he pressed in, the sensation making Jack’s body shake with anticipation. His hands clenched on the sheets as Will filled him to the hilt and rested for a moment against his back, kissing his shoulders. One of his strong hands descended, slowly, from Jack’s hips, wrapping long fingers around him lovingly. No, Will didn’t need anymore direction. The motion was natural, a motion that had been shared between two bodies since before the Bible was penned or man had any notion of the written word. Jack heard himself groan… it was a motion more natural than that of the sea.
*~*
Jack opened his eyes, shifting so that his breathing wasn’t so strained. Asleep, Will was a heavy man. His head was pressed against Jack’s shoulder blade, one of his hands still tucked beneath Jack’s hips (which made him lay at a strange cant that he now knew he’d be regretting). He was making a soft sound that was a mixture of a sigh and a snore… completely asleep. Briefly, Jack wondered if Elizabeth shared his sentiments about Will’s weight. He shifted again, feeling the striking cold of semen on the sheets and on Will’s hand, a reminder of the passion Jack had felt a few hours before. The cold shock was replicated when he tried to shift his leg. Elizabeth probably couldn’t sympathize with the sticky feeling on Jack’s hand that he identified as his own… but she was probably familiar with that cold shock between her legs as she tried to shift Will.
He couldn’t believe he was thinking about Elizabeth at such a time. He sighed and laid down again, giving in to the fact that he wasn’t going anywhere until Will decided it was time to wake up. The thoughts of Elizabeth brought a colder shock to Jack than old semen on his skin and sheets. Why was William here? Why had he been so eager to climb into Jack’s bed? What had happened to Elizabeth? ….Was Will going to leave him once he woke up, decry their passions as being sinful when he came around to his senses? Jack felt himself bunching the sheet in his hands for a reason other than ecstasy,.. Fear, He was afraid that Will was going to leave. He was afraid that he would be left alone again to feel worthless. With Will’s hands at his hips, forcing himself deep inside of him… the idea of being worthless was the furthest thing from Jack’s mind. He could offer Will a certain pleasure, a certain excitement that Elizabeth couldn’t for all her assets. Now, with the man snoring into his shoulder blade, that worthless feeling had returned. So what if he could offer William sex? Elizabeth could offer him sex, and other things beside. Money, notoriety of the good variety… children.
“Will,” he murmured, and shook his shoulder so that the blade jogged into Will’s cheek, “Will…wake up.”
“Hmmn?”
“What are you doing here, lad?”
Will shifted on top of him, pressing his cheek into Jack’s other shoulder, nuzzling the hair that rested there. His arms shifted, wrapping around Jack in a warm but uncomfortable way. He kissed his back lightly, infuriating Jack despite how much he enjoyed the attention.
“Will, why are you here?” he asked again, trying not to let himself fall for Will’s charms.
“…I needed to be here. I couldn’t be in Port Royal anymore. Elizabeth moved back to her father’s for a time. There’s rumors going around about the reason. They say I beat her. They say I’m impotent, or demented… I don’t know if there’s a reason I haven’t heard. I…just didn’t feel right there anymore. I didn’t feel like myself. I would look out at the port everyday and hope to see the Pearl. Or, I would look at the ocean and hope to fall in or…or be taken away from that place. It was getting bad, Jack. I knew I needed to find you.”
“Is this what you want, then?” Jack wished he could turn and look at the other man, but he was still held just as he was, face pressed into the pillow, “To be here… with me?”
“I think so,” Will murmured, laying his head back down. Jack knew he’d get no promises from him now, no assurances that he would stay with Jack. The boy hadn’t been able to tell Jack that he loved him in the prison… Jack doubted he could answer that question, even now. This union had been nothing more than an extension of Will’s pining after Jack… that created a different sort of ache that resided in Jack’s chest. He’d never had such a strong desire to be loved before. He wanted love from the man that was laying on him now. He wanted promises. He closed his eyes and sighed…
“Do you love me, William?” Jack asked, looking down at the blackness of the ocean. It slapped against the Pearl’s side, breaking in little white crests. The moon reflected, bobbing on the sea. Jack’s heart reached out to it… his heart felt the same way, bobbing on a sea of uncertainty. He didn’t know why he was asking Bootstrap that question, didn’t know why it was so important. The time stretched and Jack could feel his emotions breaking against his heart with little white crests of pain.
“No.”
Jack nodded and leaned against the side of the ship, listening to the waves. No. He felt his heart sink beneath those waves of emotion, being swallowed alive by the sea. He didn’t know why it was important that Bootstrap should love him. They only did what they were wont to do at sea. Many men took each other on the deck, but never demanded pledges of love and devotion. Jack had bedded many and not asked, and had been bedded many times without such questions. Why did it matter?
Bootstrap’s hand was on his hip, pulling him backward. He turned and pushed against the man’s chest, determined to get away. Bootstrap refused to give him that inch, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him closer. He wanted to yell that he was the captain and that Bootstrap couldn’t just have him any old time… but the words wouldn’t come out. This was why it was important to know if Bootstrap loved him. He’d fallen in love with the force, in love with the feeling of the deck against his knees, or the table beneath his chest. He didn’t know how to make it stop, how to return things to the way that they had been before. During the day, Bootstrap was his good friend-- a man he would gladly die for. Get too much rum into him at night… Jack bit back the urge to make pledges of love as his knees connected with the hard wood of the deck…
Jack opened his eyes and looked around the dark room, still distinctly aware of Will’s weight. Surely, the lad wasn’t his father. He took a deep breath, holding it behind his teeth, trying not to say what so desperately wanted to squeeze out. I love you. I love you, Will, I love you. I love you.
Please review. I appreciate it. ^^
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Chp. 2: Who You Thought You Were
Wham! Jack opened his eyes to the sound of the door to his room flexing inward, wham! WHAM! The frustration that was implied by that sound made Jack certain that the knocking had been going on for at least five minutes. Rum, as usual, insured that he didn’t hear it. He pulled himself to his uncertain feet and made his way to the door, pulling it open.
“Go away,” he growled when he saw a familiar face. For as long as he had been in Tortuga, Edward had been following him around, asking to be a part of his crew. It wasn’t something Jack liked to endure-- he couldn’t look at this boy with Will’s face for long. He turned away from the door, flicking it backwards with a casual gesture that would slam it closed.
The sound of the door shutting never came. Instead, a rough hand grabbed his, pulling him backwards. The door shut then, leaving Jack with his guest in the dark. He had never bothered to turn a lamp on, he rarely found occasion to. Now, he wished for it. The man who was holding his hand so firmly spun him around to face the other way, wrapping arms around him that felt like steel. In the darkness, it wasn’t Edward’s face that moved so close to his. It was Bootstrap Bill… returned from the depths to take him again. He found himself freezing up, imaging that that steel grip was that of a dead man’s, that the lips that suddenly pressed to his tasted of too much sea salt. It wasn’t something that was too hard to imagine… Jack had seen the dead walk before, had spent time in their company.
The arms around him tightened, a firm hip pressing into his own and forcing him to walk backwards. It was as if portions of his life were coming back to him in the darkness. He remembered the first time that Bootstrap had come to him, lust so apparent in his eyes that Jack didn’t even need to look down. He remembered the feeling of being in the other man’s arms, too intoxicated to say anything otherwise… Bootstrap was too intoxicated to stop himself from taking the action that he would surely regret. He had a wife and son at home, a wife and son, a wife and son… Jack had heard about that wife and that son many a drunken night on the Pearl. He never imagined that he’d meet that son, many years later. The rum caused Boostrap to forget the wife that Jack was sure he never would. It caused Bootstrap to make his way into his cabin…
“Captain, I can’t… can’t say you’ll appreciate me bein’ here,” he’d murmured, arms around Jack’s hips, walking Jack towards the table that held all of his charts. Jack felt the small of his back come into contact with that table, so transfixed by Bootstraps lustful gaze that he hadn’t paid any attention to the fact that he was being cornered. Then he’d felt Bootstrap pressing against him, rubbing against the hollow of his hip in a way that Jack longed for… at the same time that it repelled him. He’d entertained the idea of William Turner, but never so realistically. Never in these circumstances, where Bootstrap was pushing him against the table-- Jack liked to be seduced, liked to play submissive… but only on his terms. Bootstrap was kissing him, forcing his jaws to open at the same time that he was reaching down for Jack’s belt…
The man in his room drew away from him, opening his vest and slipping a hand inside. The flesh was cold, like Jack imagined a dead man’s would be. His whole body began to ache with that touch… it was the kind of ache the body assumed when it was being gazed upon with lust. It was an ache of over awareness. With the touch of those cold fingers, Jack became aware of the cant of his own hips, the stretch of skin across his shoulders, the feeling of his hands hanging at his sides… every detail about his body came into sharp, painful contrast. He was pushed down on the bed, followed by his strange assailant. That painful awareness extended to the other man’s body. He became aware of the feeling of every crease in the man’s lips as they caressed his skin, every callous on his fingers, every movement of a muscle as he laid some of his weight on Jack’s body. He felt that kernel of desire within himself awaken, but tried to hold it back. He wasn’t altogether sure about the real identity of this man. He raised his hands, clasping either side of the other’s face, pushing himself back into the bed in an effort to get a look at him…
“Bootstrap,” Jack heard himself mutter as he pushed against Bootstrap’s chest, looking into his eyes again. There was lust there and the effects of rum. The man’s hands were still moving, pushing Jack’s pants from his hips, unbuttoning his shirt and pushing it aside.
“William,” Jack’s voice picked up a note of strain as Bootstrap’s hands became firm on his hips, urging him to turn…
“William,” Jack whimpered as the man continued to resist his attempts to look at him. It was a sound born from his memories, born from the fear that the being about to ravish him was undead; should be strapped to a cannon under the waves. The man paused, pulling back enough that Jack could clearly distinguish the much loved curves of his cheek bones, the shape of his lips pulling into a strange smile.
“Jack,” the voice wasn’t Bootstrap Bill’s. That tender note forming his name was Will’s voice, clear as a bell and yet wholly unbelievable. Jack froze in motion, unable to comprehend how this man laying atop him was the same Will he’d been longing for since he’d left Port Royal. It seemed impossible that he had turned Edward away only to have William himself show up in his room. For a long moment, he didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to think that Edward had asked around, that he had learned how to imitate this man… Will dipped his head, capturing Jack’s lips and scattering all his thoughts. Those lips were Will’s. Jack knew every single crease. Those rough hands were Will’s, roughened in such a way to reflect his work as a blacksmith. The broadness of his shoulders, that near tender press of weight atop Jack… the pirate wrapped his arms around the other man, pulling him down on top of him. This was everything he had been wishing for since he left. His finger crept into Will’s hair, pulling it loose of its bindings, running through it when it fell to his shoulders. He offered no more resistance to Will’s hands venturing over his body, that painfully aware feeling that had existed before transforming itself into excitement with every caress. It wasn’t long before he was bucking his hips against Will’s with matched intensity, craving that jolt of movement, of pure friction that made him quiver. His hands moved from their play with Will’s hair, venturing to tug the young man’s clothes away from his body. It seemed as if Will was in anticipation for this moment… his shirt was only partially buttoned, his belt already loosened… the feeling of flesh against his fingertips was a relief that he desired to bring to the rest of his body, pulling Will back atop him. Will was firm against his hip, silky skin sliding over Jack’s. He shivered when they connected briefly, hard against hard, pulling Will against him, trying to impart his desires through his actions.
There were times when Jack liked to be in control, liked to lead the way. There were times when Jack liked to lead the way in such a manner that all control was taken from his hands; all control was willingly delivered into the hands of another person, Pressing himself against William, urging the younger man on with the movement of his hips, with the way he breathed…. Jack knew this was one of those times, The ache spread from his groin straight up his back. Yes, this was one of those times that he wanted to grasp the sheets in his hands, he wanted to bite the pillow and hope that a scream didn’t escape--- was it pleasure, was it pain, or some beautiful mix of both that Jack found himself craving?
Will’s movements against him were slowing and Jack’s mind raced. He didn’t want to scare the naked, excited man from his bed… that would do nothing for the ache that was eating him alive. He needed to draw him in closer, needed him too close… he knew that saying it directly would carry with it the chance that Will would leave. So, he shifted, rubbing his legs along Will’s, spreading them so that he could rub the inside of his thighs along Will’s, in an imitation of a pose Will would be familiar with. Jack knew he’d have to be a bit more flexible for his desires to be fulfilled this way, but he waited for William to comprehend-- to understand-- what Jack was asking for. The young man moved on, it seemed to Jack, without paying heed to his hints. He was moving slowly between Jack’s legs, rubbing himself against the firmness of the tendon that ran from his leg to his pelvis, contrasting with the soft give of Jack’s scrotum. The sensation wasn’t altogether unpleasant for Jack-- no, he could close his eyes and enjoy being rocked, stimulated in such a way-- but it was only intensifying that ache. He tilted his hips up more, pressing his heels into the small of Will’s back, hoping for a slip… Jack was jolted into reality with a sharp stab. All movement halted as his body reacted, trying to push away from Will, and Will paused, confused at what he was expected to do.
“I’m sorry,” Will murmured, trying to shift back to the now sore tendon, “I didn’t mean to…”
“No, no, I want you there,” Jack used his body to keep Will in place, pushing down on the younger man’s hips.
“There?”
“Aye… only not like this. If I were younger, yes… but this is going to hurt my back,” Jack hadn’t wanted to be so direct-- or admit that his back would eventually get sore if William were to penetrate him in this position. The curvature in his spine that he holding now was already causing his muscles to complain. Maybe another time, after a massage so that he was more limber…
Will was pulling away, sitting back on his haunches. Jack tilted himself up his elbows to look at the younger man. Looking at him in such a state of excitement caused that ache inside of Jack to grow to the point of unbearable. He looked around the room and seized upon a used dinner tray that still contained a pat of butter, “If you’d given me more warning, lad, I wouldn’t have to improvise so”
“What’s the butter for?”
Jack couldn’t stop himself from giving Will a sour look, “No doubt Elizabeth lubricates herself, aye? I don’t, and I want to be able to walk in the morning. If you’d given me more warning, I’d come up with a better lubricant. You’ve tackled me in an unprepared state, so we get to use butter.”
He sat down on the bed beside the younger man, scooping his fingers into the soft, yellow butter. He never imagined he’d end up using it in such a way… but he couldn’t afford to be picky now. Besides, he had used lard in the past for such a situation… and more uncomfortable substitutes that ended up hurting more than helping. Alcohol was not to be substituted. A hard lesson Jack had learned with the help of Bootstrap. He rubbed the butter in his hands for a moment before laying a hand on William’s erection. Will’s eyes hooded as Jack began to stroke him, and he leaned his head back, exposing his throat in such a way that Jack had to duck his head, had to kiss the tender skin that was to be found there. As they settled into a steady rhythm, Jack laid his other hand upon himself. Stroking Will and himself, it was easy to imagine the act that he was about to partake in… it was easy to imagine the stiffness that ran through his fingers sliding inside of him, easing that ache… he slid his hand back, making sure that he was well lubricated in anticipation. He slipped a finger inside to assure himself that the pain would be minimal when it was Will’s turn to enter him, then returned his hand to his own erection.
“How are we going to…?” Will’s voice was soft and breathy in his ear, his hand reaching out to join Jack’s in the act of stroking. Jack smiled, leaning his forehead against his chest.
“I’m going to turn around, love…like this…” Jack took his hands away, pulling himself from William’s, and turned. He smiled when Will didn’t hesitate to reach out and touch him, rough fingers tracing the backs of his legs, across his buttocks and back, “you’re going to take my hips…”
“Like this?”
“Aye…like that, and then…” Jack knew he could stop leading William, The young man’s strong hand sliding along his body, long fingers seeking to press inwards told him that much. He closed his eyes and bit his lip, just allowing himself to feel. There was a little bit of pain as Will pressed in two fingers… that was normal, to be expected. In this instance, that burn felt good, felt delicious as Will moved his fingers in and out, around. Jack felt his body shudder as the fingers were drawn away, replaced by something else. Something else that Jack desired… had desired since he had laid his lips on its silken head on the deck of the Interceptor. Will’s hands grew tighter on his hips as he pressed in, the sensation making Jack’s body shake with anticipation. His hands clenched on the sheets as Will filled him to the hilt and rested for a moment against his back, kissing his shoulders. One of his strong hands descended, slowly, from Jack’s hips, wrapping long fingers around him lovingly. No, Will didn’t need anymore direction. The motion was natural, a motion that had been shared between two bodies since before the Bible was penned or man had any notion of the written word. Jack heard himself groan… it was a motion more natural than that of the sea.
Jack opened his eyes, shifting so that his breathing wasn’t so strained. Asleep, Will was a heavy man. His head was pressed against Jack’s shoulder blade, one of his hands still tucked beneath Jack’s hips (which made him lay at a strange cant that he now knew he’d be regretting). He was making a soft sound that was a mixture of a sigh and a snore… completely asleep. Briefly, Jack wondered if Elizabeth shared his sentiments about Will’s weight. He shifted again, feeling the striking cold of semen on the sheets and on Will’s hand, a reminder of the passion Jack had felt a few hours before. The cold shock was replicated when he tried to shift his leg. Elizabeth probably couldn’t sympathize with the sticky feeling on Jack’s hand that he identified as his own… but she was probably familiar with that cold shock between her legs as she tried to shift Will.
He couldn’t believe he was thinking about Elizabeth at such a time. He sighed and laid down again, giving in to the fact that he wasn’t going anywhere until Will decided it was time to wake up. The thoughts of Elizabeth brought a colder shock to Jack than old semen on his skin and sheets. Why was William here? Why had he been so eager to climb into Jack’s bed? What had happened to Elizabeth? ….Was Will going to leave him once he woke up, decry their passions as being sinful when he came around to his senses? Jack felt himself bunching the sheet in his hands for a reason other than ecstasy,.. Fear, He was afraid that Will was going to leave. He was afraid that he would be left alone again to feel worthless. With Will’s hands at his hips, forcing himself deep inside of him… the idea of being worthless was the furthest thing from Jack’s mind. He could offer Will a certain pleasure, a certain excitement that Elizabeth couldn’t for all her assets. Now, with the man snoring into his shoulder blade, that worthless feeling had returned. So what if he could offer William sex? Elizabeth could offer him sex, and other things beside. Money, notoriety of the good variety… children.
“Will,” he murmured, and shook his shoulder so that the blade jogged into Will’s cheek, “Will…wake up.”
“Hmmn?”
“What are you doing here, lad?”
Will shifted on top of him, pressing his cheek into Jack’s other shoulder, nuzzling the hair that rested there. His arms shifted, wrapping around Jack in a warm but uncomfortable way. He kissed his back lightly, infuriating Jack despite how much he enjoyed the attention.
“Will, why are you here?” he asked again, trying not to let himself fall for Will’s charms.
“…I needed to be here. I couldn’t be in Port Royal anymore. Elizabeth moved back to her father’s for a time. There’s rumors going around about the reason. They say I beat her. They say I’m impotent, or demented… I don’t know if there’s a reason I haven’t heard. I…just didn’t feel right there anymore. I didn’t feel like myself. I would look out at the port everyday and hope to see the Pearl. Or, I would look at the ocean and hope to fall in or…or be taken away from that place. It was getting bad, Jack. I knew I needed to find you.”
“Is this what you want, then?” Jack wished he could turn and look at the other man, but he was still held just as he was, face pressed into the pillow, “To be here… with me?”
“I think so,” Will murmured, laying his head back down. Jack knew he’d get no promises from him now, no assurances that he would stay with Jack. The boy hadn’t been able to tell Jack that he loved him in the prison… Jack doubted he could answer that question, even now. This union had been nothing more than an extension of Will’s pining after Jack… that created a different sort of ache that resided in Jack’s chest. He’d never had such a strong desire to be loved before. He wanted love from the man that was laying on him now. He wanted promises. He closed his eyes and sighed…
“Do you love me, William?” Jack asked, looking down at the blackness of the ocean. It slapped against the Pearl’s side, breaking in little white crests. The moon reflected, bobbing on the sea. Jack’s heart reached out to it… his heart felt the same way, bobbing on a sea of uncertainty. He didn’t know why he was asking Bootstrap that question, didn’t know why it was so important. The time stretched and Jack could feel his emotions breaking against his heart with little white crests of pain.
“No.”
Jack nodded and leaned against the side of the ship, listening to the waves. No. He felt his heart sink beneath those waves of emotion, being swallowed alive by the sea. He didn’t know why it was important that Bootstrap should love him. They only did what they were wont to do at sea. Many men took each other on the deck, but never demanded pledges of love and devotion. Jack had bedded many and not asked, and had been bedded many times without such questions. Why did it matter?
Bootstrap’s hand was on his hip, pulling him backward. He turned and pushed against the man’s chest, determined to get away. Bootstrap refused to give him that inch, grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him closer. He wanted to yell that he was the captain and that Bootstrap couldn’t just have him any old time… but the words wouldn’t come out. This was why it was important to know if Bootstrap loved him. He’d fallen in love with the force, in love with the feeling of the deck against his knees, or the table beneath his chest. He didn’t know how to make it stop, how to return things to the way that they had been before. During the day, Bootstrap was his good friend-- a man he would gladly die for. Get too much rum into him at night… Jack bit back the urge to make pledges of love as his knees connected with the hard wood of the deck…
Jack opened his eyes and looked around the dark room, still distinctly aware of Will’s weight. Surely, the lad wasn’t his father. He took a deep breath, holding it behind his teeth, trying not to say what so desperately wanted to squeeze out. I love you. I love you, Will, I love you. I love you.