New Worlds - Havana

 

“I have a confession to make.”



Jack glanced over at Will, where he lay sprawled on the rumpled sheets, staring up at the ceiling fan making lazy circles in the humid air. A sheen of sweat from their earlier exertions covered his chest and brow, a droplet finding its way once again down the line of his jaw.



Reaching over, Jack traced the path of the wayward drop, lingering fingers brushed Will’s lips, only to be surprised with a quick nip. With a laughing growl, Jack twisted to where he was on top of Will, holding both of his arms down as he returned the favor, biting Will’s lower lip gently before claiming them with a longer, more devouring kiss.



Will responded in turn and soon all conversation was forgotten, as the two made up for lost time apart.

 

****



“So what’s this sudden confession you feel compelled to make?” Jack asked finally, curiosity getting the best of him.



“I lied about not knowing how to dance.”



“Ooh, so that’s how you did it!” Jack propped himself up on one elbow with an impish grin. “And here I was thinkin’ you were just a fast learner.”



Will smiled at Jack, drinking in his golden hues and spicy scent. Even with his hair cropped short and trimmed beard, Jack still exuded the exotic, blending in with the island and her people as if he were a native himself. In this setting, with the sun slanting in through the shutters, the whispering of the breeze through the palms, it was as if they’d never left.



“When I heard where our rendezvous was to be this time, I did some research.”



Jack chuckled. “Didn’t want to get caught with your pants down, like your last visit, eh?”



“If I remember correctly, you were the one making confessions that time.”



“And we were both minus our breeches. I have fond memories of that night, luv. Absolution at its most divine.”



Will sighed. “We were lucky not to be hung.”



“Trifles.” Jack waved away the idea. “So tell me, Will. How does one go about researching on the Flying Dutchman?”



“Picked up a Cuban fisherman, who’d got caught in a squall with a leaky boat. Decided he wasn’t keen on passing over any time soon, so he joined the crew.” Will rose and went over to the window and looked out at the harbor shimmering beyond the rooftops. “When I heard you wanted to meet in Havana, I asked him to tell me about it.”



“And what did he tell you?” Jack joined Will, coming up behind him and resting his chin on Will’s shoulder.



Will snuggled contently into Jack’s arms, leaning back against his chest. “He told me, and I quote, the city exudes an essence, fragrant and fateful, of delight in love.” Will laughed. “He also warned me.”



“About?”



“About the rumba.”



“And what did he warn you of, mi pichón?” Jack nosed a curl aside and was purring softly in Will’s ear.



Will closed his eyes, savoring deeply the sensation of Jack’s arms around him, the balmy breeze wafting through the window bringing with it the sounds and smells ofHavana.



“That once you lose yourself to the rumba, when you feel completely one with what you are doing, you control your destiny, at least for that moment. And that…” Will paused, emotion suddenly gripping him, his hands running gently over Jack‘s possessive arms.



“And… what?” Jack whispered encouragingly, tightening his hold.



Will swallowed, turning his head slightly, drawing in Jack’s scent mixed with the throb and pulse of the city, and whispered as well. “That it will forever be associated with the most precious moments in your memory.”



“Hmm.” Jack sighed, smiling into Will’s neck, eyes closed lightly to concentrate on feeling Will flushed against his skin. “Well, then…” Pressing a kiss next to Will’s ear, Jack started humming quietly, rocking Will in his arms to the leisurely undertone of the rumba of his heart.  



“Ven, dame tu amor. Que sin ti, no hay rumba en mi corazón.” ^**

 

**** 

^**Come, give me your love, without you there is no rumba in my heart.