Touch
folder
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,661
Reviews:
9
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
2,661
Reviews:
9
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.
the value of words
-------
Title: Touch
Author: Ladyjanelly
E-mail:
Feedback: gives me a reason to type and post instead of just playing with pretty images in my head.
Type:FPS
Chapter: 3/?
Characters: Jack/Will
Rating: R
Archive: Feel free, just let me know where.
Warnings: More of a recovery fic than hurt/comfort, but there are still mentions of child abuse (nothing graphic) and it is Slash.
Beyond all his expectations, Will discovered that Jack was a patient man. Which was not to say that he would stand for stupidity or laziness or misplaced sentimentality. On the deck of his Pearl, the man would bluster and shout, swear and stomp. There was only one place where Jack's patience seemed without end, and that was in the cabin they shared.
Every time it became easier for Will. He could accept more, enjoy more. The first time he touched Jack he expected to see fear in those kohl-rimmed eyes. Instead there was only joy, desire. Jack's skin was not the childlike softness of Elizabeth's, and for that Will was grateful. Jack was strong, and roughened by the sea. He was scarred and tanned, tattooed and branded. For all that they were just as small as Elizabeth's, Jack's hands showed the signs of a lifetime of work and living. He was confident in the pleasures he sought and the pleasures he gave.
And yet Jack never pushed for more than Will was ready to give. He would offer, he would suggest, but he would never even ask for what he desired. He never began without Will's permission. He was never the one to remove Will's clothing. A year passed since Will parted from Elizabeth. He found he could endure, even enjoy Jack's hands touching his skin; his hips and thighs, his chest and shoulders, his hair and his face.
He could be unclothed with Jack and still be safe.
He could touch Jack if he chose, or not touch Jack if he chose, and either way he would still be safe.
He was touching Jack, stretched out beside him in their bed, his bare flesh pressing, rubbing against Jack's hip. They lay beside each other, always. Will could not bear to be beneath the weight of another person, and he had too much empathy to do that to Jack, no matter that Jack would not care.
It was that night that Jack whispered in his ear, "A bit of sodomy, William?" His voice was full of humor, decadence, temptation. Will tensed and felt himself go cold. "Or not," Jack continued, rolling over to gaze at his younger lover. Those dark eyes were gentle and serious and must have read Will's hesitance.
That strong calloused hand stroked his arm, up to his shoulder, sliding around behind his neck. He would have drawn away, but it was so gentle, so slow. A shiver went through him. Jack leaned in, closing only half the distance between them. Will closed the remaining space, and their lips met in their first chaste kiss. The closeness of it, the intimacy, was almost too much but Will's courage held.
Even in this there was nothing but gentleness in Jack's touch. His lips slid softly across Will's, his tongue teasing out to give them the barest touch. He tasted of rum and spices and the salt of sea-spray and to Will there had been no better taste in his life. That taste re-awoke the fire in his loins, the love in his heart. He knew he was no great lover; that his kisses were amateur at best, but Jack seemed to appreciate them. The pirate pulled away enough to gaze at him, grinning crookedly.
He had never questioned before, if Will declined one of his invitations. "Are you sure you don’t want to have a go?" Those eyebrows waggled at him again. "You know you won't hurt ol' Jack, right?"
Will swallowed. He had never thought that this would be a thing that was offered to him, instead of being taken from him, and no, he couldn’t imagine it being done without pain to at least one person.
"Help me," he whispered, hoping that Jack understood what he needed. Jack never made him wait for anything. He was on his knees, facing Will, in a heartbeat. A bottle appeared as if by magic between those dusky, bejeweled fingers and Will found himself smiling despite his anxiety.
"You planned thi..." Jack's oil-slick hand on his shaft cut off his teasing reprimand. Jack was touching himself too, his other arm behind himself. Will flushed as a ragged sound of pleasure came from his lover's lips. The thought that pleasure could be derived from a touch in that place was strange to him, but many things Jack did or enjoyed were strange, so he accepted it.
Will had seen Jack swim before, when the summer sun was too warm and the dolphins were dancing along the Pearl's side. He had been so lean and agile and flexible in the water, more eel than man. It was like that now, as he positioned Will on his side, then rolled so his back was to the younger man. Their hips, they...fit. Jack twisted at the waist, enough that Will could see his face.
The glee on Jack's face made him look almost demented; all gold teeth and white rings around the dark irises of his eyes. And then a strong heat enveloped him, and he had no more thoughts on Jack's appearance or any other thoughts for that matter.
It was more than he had ever imagined, having his body inside of Jack's. He could not comprehend an act more intimate. He cried out from an ecstasy that was as much emotional as physical. He was taken, he was loved, he was safe.
----------
Jack Sparrow, for all his love of words, was never a man to place much value in them. Words were like pretty baubles. They could distract your enemies, entertain your friends. They could be traded sometimes, for things of more value and use. A hungry man couldn’t eat them, a thirsty man couldn’t drink them.
And yet now he hungered for the words Will would not say, and the silences where those words should be was too dry by half. Will lies half on top of him in their bed, naked and sweaty and spent. He does not speak, and Jack thirsts for words, for any words at all. The silences have filled the nights after they have made love and the mornings before they begin their day. He is parched with waiting and wanting and needing.
In this, he knows he is as failed as a pirate can be, for he has given everything, and taken nothing. He has given to Will the ability to trust. He has given him two years of his life and his bed. The closer Will is to him in body, the further he seems to be in heart. Jack is afraid to offer him that last pleasure, for fear the resulting silence would steal the very air from his lungs. Will's gentle glances have grown melancholy. Something akin to sorrow lingers in the depths of those brown eyes when he watches Jack on the deck of the Pearl.
Will rolls off, and begins to dress, even though it is late and they are free from duty until the morning.
"Whelp?" Jack asks, and his voice even sounds dry, brittle in the quiet of their cabin.
"Go to sleep, Jack," the boy tells him. "I'm going topside to watch the sea for a while." Maybe just any words wouldn’t do after all.
Title: Touch
Author: Ladyjanelly
E-mail:
Feedback: gives me a reason to type and post instead of just playing with pretty images in my head.
Type:FPS
Chapter: 3/?
Characters: Jack/Will
Rating: R
Archive: Feel free, just let me know where.
Warnings: More of a recovery fic than hurt/comfort, but there are still mentions of child abuse (nothing graphic) and it is Slash.
Beyond all his expectations, Will discovered that Jack was a patient man. Which was not to say that he would stand for stupidity or laziness or misplaced sentimentality. On the deck of his Pearl, the man would bluster and shout, swear and stomp. There was only one place where Jack's patience seemed without end, and that was in the cabin they shared.
Every time it became easier for Will. He could accept more, enjoy more. The first time he touched Jack he expected to see fear in those kohl-rimmed eyes. Instead there was only joy, desire. Jack's skin was not the childlike softness of Elizabeth's, and for that Will was grateful. Jack was strong, and roughened by the sea. He was scarred and tanned, tattooed and branded. For all that they were just as small as Elizabeth's, Jack's hands showed the signs of a lifetime of work and living. He was confident in the pleasures he sought and the pleasures he gave.
And yet Jack never pushed for more than Will was ready to give. He would offer, he would suggest, but he would never even ask for what he desired. He never began without Will's permission. He was never the one to remove Will's clothing. A year passed since Will parted from Elizabeth. He found he could endure, even enjoy Jack's hands touching his skin; his hips and thighs, his chest and shoulders, his hair and his face.
He could be unclothed with Jack and still be safe.
He could touch Jack if he chose, or not touch Jack if he chose, and either way he would still be safe.
He was touching Jack, stretched out beside him in their bed, his bare flesh pressing, rubbing against Jack's hip. They lay beside each other, always. Will could not bear to be beneath the weight of another person, and he had too much empathy to do that to Jack, no matter that Jack would not care.
It was that night that Jack whispered in his ear, "A bit of sodomy, William?" His voice was full of humor, decadence, temptation. Will tensed and felt himself go cold. "Or not," Jack continued, rolling over to gaze at his younger lover. Those dark eyes were gentle and serious and must have read Will's hesitance.
That strong calloused hand stroked his arm, up to his shoulder, sliding around behind his neck. He would have drawn away, but it was so gentle, so slow. A shiver went through him. Jack leaned in, closing only half the distance between them. Will closed the remaining space, and their lips met in their first chaste kiss. The closeness of it, the intimacy, was almost too much but Will's courage held.
Even in this there was nothing but gentleness in Jack's touch. His lips slid softly across Will's, his tongue teasing out to give them the barest touch. He tasted of rum and spices and the salt of sea-spray and to Will there had been no better taste in his life. That taste re-awoke the fire in his loins, the love in his heart. He knew he was no great lover; that his kisses were amateur at best, but Jack seemed to appreciate them. The pirate pulled away enough to gaze at him, grinning crookedly.
He had never questioned before, if Will declined one of his invitations. "Are you sure you don’t want to have a go?" Those eyebrows waggled at him again. "You know you won't hurt ol' Jack, right?"
Will swallowed. He had never thought that this would be a thing that was offered to him, instead of being taken from him, and no, he couldn’t imagine it being done without pain to at least one person.
"Help me," he whispered, hoping that Jack understood what he needed. Jack never made him wait for anything. He was on his knees, facing Will, in a heartbeat. A bottle appeared as if by magic between those dusky, bejeweled fingers and Will found himself smiling despite his anxiety.
"You planned thi..." Jack's oil-slick hand on his shaft cut off his teasing reprimand. Jack was touching himself too, his other arm behind himself. Will flushed as a ragged sound of pleasure came from his lover's lips. The thought that pleasure could be derived from a touch in that place was strange to him, but many things Jack did or enjoyed were strange, so he accepted it.
Will had seen Jack swim before, when the summer sun was too warm and the dolphins were dancing along the Pearl's side. He had been so lean and agile and flexible in the water, more eel than man. It was like that now, as he positioned Will on his side, then rolled so his back was to the younger man. Their hips, they...fit. Jack twisted at the waist, enough that Will could see his face.
The glee on Jack's face made him look almost demented; all gold teeth and white rings around the dark irises of his eyes. And then a strong heat enveloped him, and he had no more thoughts on Jack's appearance or any other thoughts for that matter.
It was more than he had ever imagined, having his body inside of Jack's. He could not comprehend an act more intimate. He cried out from an ecstasy that was as much emotional as physical. He was taken, he was loved, he was safe.
----------
Jack Sparrow, for all his love of words, was never a man to place much value in them. Words were like pretty baubles. They could distract your enemies, entertain your friends. They could be traded sometimes, for things of more value and use. A hungry man couldn’t eat them, a thirsty man couldn’t drink them.
And yet now he hungered for the words Will would not say, and the silences where those words should be was too dry by half. Will lies half on top of him in their bed, naked and sweaty and spent. He does not speak, and Jack thirsts for words, for any words at all. The silences have filled the nights after they have made love and the mornings before they begin their day. He is parched with waiting and wanting and needing.
In this, he knows he is as failed as a pirate can be, for he has given everything, and taken nothing. He has given to Will the ability to trust. He has given him two years of his life and his bed. The closer Will is to him in body, the further he seems to be in heart. Jack is afraid to offer him that last pleasure, for fear the resulting silence would steal the very air from his lungs. Will's gentle glances have grown melancholy. Something akin to sorrow lingers in the depths of those brown eyes when he watches Jack on the deck of the Pearl.
Will rolls off, and begins to dress, even though it is late and they are free from duty until the morning.
"Whelp?" Jack asks, and his voice even sounds dry, brittle in the quiet of their cabin.
"Go to sleep, Jack," the boy tells him. "I'm going topside to watch the sea for a while." Maybe just any words wouldn’t do after all.