Flesh of Flesh

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 sin_of_pride who wanted something written with the themes of blood, death and vengeance, but also with love and affection. While in Hawaii my connection is a bit sketchy so I may not be able to post requests until I return.

::Flesh of Flesh::


“Fell into the hearth fire and set my shirt tails alight,” William murmurs to James as the commodore traces a swath of textured, ruddy flesh that sweeps from just right of William’s navel and curls about his hip. “Ran around screaming till my mother wrestled me to the floor.”

James hums in sympathy kis kisses the young man’s reddened lips. A slight shift of his hips draws a lazy sight of appreciation from William as his renewed erection moves within the smith’s body. There is no need to rush towards a second release—or third in the young man’s case. With such a momentous event currently unfolding in the central courtyard of the fort, there is no one about to bother the two of them in the commodore’s office.

“It must have hurt terribly,” James comments, nuzzling the young smith’s smooth cheek.

“Would you like a taste of it?” William leans back and grabs the silver ornamental dagger from the sheaves of paper scattered across James’ desk. With a kind smile the young man embraces his lover before driving the tip of the dagger into his back and dragging it in a sweeping arc to the front. A line of fire blooms in the wake of the blade and the older man cannot restrain a hiss of breath. As rivulets of sanguine begin their descent, a sharp thrill urges his hips into a few abortive thrusts. The smith gasps softly and clenches about him.

“William…”

Outside the crowd begins to gather in the courtyard. Trumpets beat the air with practiced notes.

The young man places to the bloodied blade upon his lips to indicate a request for silence. With the tips of his fingers he stroke’s back the sweat-dampened hair that has fallen across James’ forehead. Even such light touches, airier and far more insubstantial than a soap bubble’s, push a deep burn into the older man. He finds himself spun so deeply into the young smith’s every breath, every blink that he no longer remembers what it is to exist without the other’s presence.

He does not even think to retaliate for the wound. The pain is a warm blessing that evidences he is not some hollow creature parading in the flesh of Man. Gently William rolls his hips, and the sharp bites of sensation deliquesce into the gentle rhythm. When James’ breath comes out in chopped exhalations, he stills and kisses the commodore tenderly.

From outside a dull voice begins a lengthy recitation.

“This from my own sword,” he whispers offering James his left hand. “Breaking a curse with the blood of a Turner.” The commodore licks across the raised line of pink flesh, tasting the salt and metal there; wishing he had the power to dissolve the excess tissue until all that remains is unmarred skin.

It comes as no surprise when Will takes hold of his hand and holds it palm up. He watches the stained knife’s edge press into the webbing between index finger and thumb. The skin bends, dipping below the inexorable pressure, and then a sharp sting runs up his wrist as skin parts. Precisely, slowly William opens his flesth sth steal. Even as pricks of pain rush up his arm, his cock stiffens in enthusiastic response. This is life.

“Oh…” is all the young man moans, not even a true word. Eyes sliding shut in a momentary surrender to pleasure, he finishes the cut and squeezes his inner muscles deliciously.

The voice outside continues to drone to the background of excited chatter.

“Any more scars?” James whispers as he cups the boy’s cheek in his bloodied hand. William nuzzles the seeping wound upon James’ palm and sighs. Sooty lashes rise to reveal enigmatically shadowed eyes.

“This from my lover,” William says and tilts his head to reveal a recently incurred gash upon his other cheek. “He discovered me in a tryst with another.” James heart stutters and something dark begins to rise in the back of his thoughts. A great leviathan of a realization wraps oily tentacles about his spine and pushes upwards into his brain.

The young man presses dry lips to James’ cheek before quickly cutting a matching furrow into his flesh. The pain dies before it even fully roots itself into the consciousness of the commodore. Gingerly he touches the cut to confirm its presence.

“Not too long now, James.”

Silence presses in from outside. A mass inhalation is held tightly in anticipation.

William turns his head to look out the window. James discovers a horrible reality in the young man’s strong profile.

The thunderous shout of wood slapping ast wst wood pierces his ears, followed swiftly by the sound of a body’s descent suddenly arrested.

Hair matted with blood and other matter, the smith flinches at the crowd’s triumphant cry as the last great pirate captain, caught ignobly in a tryst that had become a trap, leaves life’s stage. James presses two fingers from his uninjured hand against the gruesome mess only to sink into something wet and dense.

“Oh God, William…”

“It’s all right.” Calmly the young man pushes the commodore’s hand away and rocks a bit to get the appendage inside him to harden up again. “Would you like to know about it?” He leans forward, eyes partially shutting on a little huff of breath. “From my lover when I told him that I was sailing out with a pirate. Shot me with a pistol; blamed it on the pirate.”

“No.”

William holds up a cocked pistol and lovingly places the end of the barrel against James’ temple. The smile on his face reflects infinite sadness and a touch of wistfulness. The leviathan bursts forth in a bloody shower of knowledge.

“It’s time to finish this, James.”

The commodore takes hold of the weapon and opens his eyes.

Staring into the empty space before him, he touches the trigger.


~End~