No Rest for the Wicked
folder
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male › Jack/Will
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
5,545
Reviews:
6
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male › Jack/Will
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
5,545
Reviews:
6
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.
No Rest for the Wicked
Disclaimer: I don’t own the rights to the Pirates of the Caribbean
or its characters, which solely belong to Disney, et al, but that hasn’t
stopped me from writing about them.
Notes: Written for ghostkitten who wanted something “nice and warm” to thaw her out after Haunting. I kinda threw “nice” out of the window, but it’s certainly very…warm.
::No Rest for the Wicked::
The night burns across his exposed body in sticky exhalations. Beneath the surface of his fragile skin a furnace blazes and small lick at tender tissues. Every joint aches with the pain of a hundred serrated blades slowly sawing away at the cartilage; every pore pushes out beads of salty sweat. The creases of his elbows, the palms of his hands, the underside of his arms, between his legs, all itch with the saline liquid. Everything is on fire and, for a moment of sanity’s requiem, he believes he is trapped upon a ship sinking into the pulsing heart of an ocean set alight.
“Your skin is so hot,” a husky voice hisses in his ear. Will turns from the beard that scratches so terribly and tries to wriggle away from the heavy hand pressing against his madly pounding heart. Even a mere hair’s length of skin feels infinite and far too sensitive.
“Water, please,” he rasps desperately, shifting, twisting his body—now an alien prison of his delirious mind. “Burning!”
The other pays no mind to his weak pleas. The hand pulls away for a moment, leaving behind a print that sits like a red hot ember upon his chest, and then nimble fingers dance across his nipples. Before Will can utter a protest, a mouth—hungry, wet, hot—settles over his and a conquering tongue slides in. He tries to raise hands to ward off this unwanted action, to push aside a kiss that only serves to hurt fir fire and roughness. He is trapped, asphyxiating on the y dey desire forced into his lungs from the other.
“Please, please …” he whispers upon his release. He cannot open his eyes to see the lack of tenderness in the man bending over him. To know of its lack is sufficient. He receives a sharp twist to one nipple and whimpers brokenly. A thick rill of sweat runs down his throat, but does nothing to cool him.
So tired, so hot. This body, this flesh, they are not his. He does not know them. How could he possibly contain such a Bacchanalia of fire and agony?
“Water…”
A strong hand grips his thigh and pushes it ineluctably back towards his chest. Muscles scream and lance his mind with pain-honed slivers. Will does not cry. He hasn’t cried since the earth finally swallowed his mother’s corpse in its dank embrace. Even had he the inclination every drop of liquid contained within his body seems to have evaporated in the conflagration ravaging him.
“So hot everywhere,” the man murmurs stroking over the intimate entrance to Will’s body. A finger worms its way into his fire, probing and pushing against the inner tissues. otheother gives a small groan of contentment, the sound discordant in the Will’s roiling mind.
“Lad, you have no idea…” with that the other spears Will upon his cock. The young man arches up in a rolling shudder, tremors shaking him almost apart.
All wrong. Burning. Oh God! Oh God!
~*~*~*~*~
“Easy there, lad. Don’t want to spill.” Greedily Will gulps down the cool water from the wooden bowl Jack hold’s to his mouth. “Feelin’ any better now?” The bowl is withdrawn and a calloused finger wipes away the droplets of moisture clinging to his lips.
“Everything feels odd,” he whispers. He feels as though he has swallowed a sanding stone before rubbing grit into his eyes; every scant length of his flesh feels bruised. Unaccountably uneasy in the pirate’s presence, he leans forward and away from the arm braced against his back.
“Had one helluva fever. Maybe next time you’ll take my advice about not staying out for the freak rainstorms that sweep through here.”
“Aye…” Gingerly he nods his head and frowns at the reek of fever-sweat that clings to him. So many blurred images and inchoate sensations flirt with his regained wits. He remembers burning and… “I had a dream…I think…”
Will turns his head and meets the man’s gaze in time to see something dark and infinitely self-satisfied flicker through shadow-filled eyes.
“Indeed?”
~End~
End Notes: Any more quickie requests? I can also do fluff, but not off of my own ideas it seems; I need someone to give me a fluffy idea to be able to write it. Any Will-centric slash pairing will do.
or its characters, which solely belong to Disney, et al, but that hasn’t
stopped me from writing about them.
Notes: Written for ghostkitten who wanted something “nice and warm” to thaw her out after Haunting. I kinda threw “nice” out of the window, but it’s certainly very…warm.
::No Rest for the Wicked::
The night burns across his exposed body in sticky exhalations. Beneath the surface of his fragile skin a furnace blazes and small lick at tender tissues. Every joint aches with the pain of a hundred serrated blades slowly sawing away at the cartilage; every pore pushes out beads of salty sweat. The creases of his elbows, the palms of his hands, the underside of his arms, between his legs, all itch with the saline liquid. Everything is on fire and, for a moment of sanity’s requiem, he believes he is trapped upon a ship sinking into the pulsing heart of an ocean set alight.
“Your skin is so hot,” a husky voice hisses in his ear. Will turns from the beard that scratches so terribly and tries to wriggle away from the heavy hand pressing against his madly pounding heart. Even a mere hair’s length of skin feels infinite and far too sensitive.
“Water, please,” he rasps desperately, shifting, twisting his body—now an alien prison of his delirious mind. “Burning!”
The other pays no mind to his weak pleas. The hand pulls away for a moment, leaving behind a print that sits like a red hot ember upon his chest, and then nimble fingers dance across his nipples. Before Will can utter a protest, a mouth—hungry, wet, hot—settles over his and a conquering tongue slides in. He tries to raise hands to ward off this unwanted action, to push aside a kiss that only serves to hurt fir fire and roughness. He is trapped, asphyxiating on the y dey desire forced into his lungs from the other.
“Please, please …” he whispers upon his release. He cannot open his eyes to see the lack of tenderness in the man bending over him. To know of its lack is sufficient. He receives a sharp twist to one nipple and whimpers brokenly. A thick rill of sweat runs down his throat, but does nothing to cool him.
So tired, so hot. This body, this flesh, they are not his. He does not know them. How could he possibly contain such a Bacchanalia of fire and agony?
“Water…”
A strong hand grips his thigh and pushes it ineluctably back towards his chest. Muscles scream and lance his mind with pain-honed slivers. Will does not cry. He hasn’t cried since the earth finally swallowed his mother’s corpse in its dank embrace. Even had he the inclination every drop of liquid contained within his body seems to have evaporated in the conflagration ravaging him.
“So hot everywhere,” the man murmurs stroking over the intimate entrance to Will’s body. A finger worms its way into his fire, probing and pushing against the inner tissues. otheother gives a small groan of contentment, the sound discordant in the Will’s roiling mind.
“Lad, you have no idea…” with that the other spears Will upon his cock. The young man arches up in a rolling shudder, tremors shaking him almost apart.
All wrong. Burning. Oh God! Oh God!
~*~*~*~*~
“Easy there, lad. Don’t want to spill.” Greedily Will gulps down the cool water from the wooden bowl Jack hold’s to his mouth. “Feelin’ any better now?” The bowl is withdrawn and a calloused finger wipes away the droplets of moisture clinging to his lips.
“Everything feels odd,” he whispers. He feels as though he has swallowed a sanding stone before rubbing grit into his eyes; every scant length of his flesh feels bruised. Unaccountably uneasy in the pirate’s presence, he leans forward and away from the arm braced against his back.
“Had one helluva fever. Maybe next time you’ll take my advice about not staying out for the freak rainstorms that sweep through here.”
“Aye…” Gingerly he nods his head and frowns at the reek of fever-sweat that clings to him. So many blurred images and inchoate sensations flirt with his regained wits. He remembers burning and… “I had a dream…I think…”
Will turns his head and meets the man’s gaze in time to see something dark and infinitely self-satisfied flicker through shadow-filled eyes.
“Indeed?”
~End~
End Notes: Any more quickie requests? I can also do fluff, but not off of my own ideas it seems; I need someone to give me a fluffy idea to be able to write it. Any Will-centric slash pairing will do.