The Wailing Walls - A Ghost's Story

Written by:mamazano and danglingdingle
Title: The Wailing Walls - A Ghost's Story
Rating: NC-17

Warnings: Explicit, graphic, uninhibited m/m sex, and a ghost.

A/N: A full blown story for drabble challenge #19, Legends and Myths, at LiveJournal's jackwill- community. A whole lot more than 100 words. Oops...

Chapter 1 - It Was a Dark and Stormy Night



It was a night made for ghost stories. Outside the dingy seaside tavern, the wind howled as the storm lashed the coast, the rain beating against the weathered buildings lining the narrow cobbled streets along the waterfront. Inside, the atmosphere was subdued, the weather keeping all but the bravest of souls safely home or aboard one of the ships that strained at their moorings on the storm-tossed bay. Even the whores had elected to stay away, forcing the desolate few scattered around the room to turn to other avenues of entertainment.

A group of sailors sat huddled around a table in the chimney-corner, nursing their tankards and listening to Picaroon Pete, a local fixture along the waterfront taverns. Rumored to have sailed with Morgan himself, the crusty old salt now spent his days spinning yarns for a pint of ale. In the flickering lamp light, with the wind moaning in the rafters, the night was ripe for a good old fashion ghost story.

“Well, I know lots o’ strange things,” Pete began, staring into the fire. “Why, I know things, that ef I should tell – why, people might say they wa’n’t so. I can tell you a tale or two about Drax Hall, if ye have a mind t’ be hearing.” He took a long swallow of ale, wiping the white stubble on his chin with a grubby sleeve.


“Is that so?” Jack Sparrow leaned forward, eyes and teeth gleaming in the candlelight.

Plenty of strange goin’ ons around them parts,” the grizzled old man nodded, his voice low and ominous. “Though none more strange than them over at the great house.”

Just then, the tavern door opened with a windy blast, guttering the candles and setting shadows dancing across the room. Jack smiled as he recognized his quartermaster, Gibbs, shaking off the rain like an amicable dog.

"It’s blowin’ up a foul night out there," Gibbs noted as he joined the others around the table, scooting his chair closer to the fire blazing in the hearth.

As if to agree, the wind outside howled and shrieked with unaccountable clamor. Jack gave the rafters a quick frown as he handed Gibbs a cup of rum. “Did you manage to find the place?”

“Aye, Cap’n. Boarded up, tighter than a dead man’s chest. Not a livin’ soul about the place.” Gibbs shuddered and took a long swallow from his mug.

Will Turner, who so far had been content to keep his own counsel, stirred and set his cup on the table with a thump. “No fool’d be open on a night like this. And even if he were, how would we be able to get back to the Pearl?”

Gibbs nodded. “Will’s right. No way t’ reach the Pearl, not with the waters so rough. Best be finding a bed for the night and try again come morning.”

“Right you are, Mister Gibbs,” Jack said, leaning back and waving a nonchalant hand towards the half empty tavern. “Well, then. As it appears we've nowhere else to go tonight, I propose we sit back and let Pete here entertain us with his story of the hauntings up at Drax Hall.” To encourage the old salt, Jack motioned to the bartender to bring another round.

The drink alone was encouragement enough. Pete drained his tankard and grabbed up another, taking a long swallow before continuing his tale. “T’was a prosperous place in its time, one of the biggest sugar plantations on the island. Weren't ‘til ol’ Henry Drax died that things went all pear-shaped. Won’t no one go near it now, place is haunted with every kind of ghost, duppy, scary and unexplainable thing that roams God’s good earth, and that’s the truth of it.”

“If no one will go near it, then how do they know what’s haunting it?” Jack asked, flashing a quick grin.

“Seeing is believing,” the old man muttered to himself.

Jack shrugged, his voice casual. “Not exactly interested in ghosts and goblins. What interests me is recovering a certain property of mine, last seen in the possession of a certain person, whose destination happened to be a certain Drax Hall.”

The old sailor just grunted. Pointing a crooked finger at the group, he growled, “You best be staying away from there, if you know what’s good for you.”

“Never been known for that, either,” Jack answered affably. “Either way, there’ll be no visitin’ the haunted mansion in this weather. Perhaps next time we’re in port.”

The conversation drifted off to other topics, ghostly hauntings being replaced with tales of hidden treasure. A good natured argument broke out among the men over the purported location of one such stash, belonging to the infamous pirate, “Black Sam” Bellamy.

“The story I heard was that Black Sam hid his treasure in one of them caves on the other side of the island,” one of the men at the table said, with a definitive snort.

“No, no, no,” Gibbs said with a shake of his head. “T’was buried over on Dead Man’s Cay, any man worth his salt knows that. Buried, with a dead man t’ guard it.”

“And on a moonlit night the ghost of that slain man rises and walks the beach,” another man added.

The men continued to argue, the steady drum of rain on the roof showed no sign of abating. After several more rounds of ale, and ghost tales, Jack yawned and stood up, announcing he was going to see about finding a room for the night. The proprietor of the tavern did not let rooms, but directed Jack and his men to a boardinghouse further down the lane. Turning their collars up to the wind and rain, Jack and the others headed out into the night.


****

The weathered sign over the door announced they were in the right place, even though the house, a foreboding place, with sagging porch and peeling paint, showed no signs of life. The men hesitated, soaked to the skin, they’d been hoping for a warm and welcoming place to stay the night. Strangers in town, without other options, they crossed the weed choked yard, and gingerly mounted the rickety stairs.

Jack rapped twice on the door, the men crowding behind, seeking shelter from the rain that steadily continued to fall. Several minutes passed before a faint sound indicated someone had heard their knock. The door creaked open a slit and a pale blue eye peered out.

“No vacancies!” The door closed before they could react or respond.

Jack knocked again, with more insistence. When the door opened a second time, he slipped a boot across the threshold. “Me and the gents here need rooms for the night.”


The proprietor, a grizzled old man, eyed the crew with a dubious eye. “Told you, we're all full.”

“Really?” Jack pushed his way past the man, his crew trailing behind. “Appears t’ me there’s no one here t’all.” He glanced around the cavernous entry hall, as shabby and worn as the exterior of the house. The light from the single candle cast tall shadows about the room, revealing a thick layer of dust coating the floor and sparse furnishings.

“Cap’n?” Gibbs asked in a hushed voice, staring nervously around. “Perhaps we ought t’ just find us another place, somewhere a bit more lively, say.”

“Aye,” a few of the men mumbled, a night of ghost stories having set their imaginations wild and their nerves on edge.

Jack gave his crew an exasperated glance. “Is that how all of you are feeling?” He made a shooing motion with his hands. “Well, then, off you go. Catch your death out in that weather. I’m staying put.”

The crew wasted no time as they scurried out into the stormy night. Gibbs hesitated at the door, torn between his fears and his Captain. With an eye roll and a sigh, he turned around. “Best be stayin’ as well, just in case.”

“In case of what?” Will, who’d been looking around, asked curiously. “Nothing odd about this place, outside of a lack of housekeeping.”

“They keep quitting,” the wizened proprietor replied. The three men jumped, having almost forgotten he was there. “Tis on account of her!” he added, his voice low and ominous.

“Her?” Will asked, raising one eyebrow.

“Aye.” The old man glanced nervously around and lowered his voice to a whisper. “Black Bellamy’s widda. Left her, quick with child, t’ go t’ sea and ne’er returned.”

Gibbs, eyes wide, whispered in turn. “What happen t’ her?”

“Done killed herself, didn’t’t she?” The candle guttered and flared, casting long shadows across the walls. He shook his grizzled head. “No one’ll stay the night, not with her shriekin’ and sobbin’. Can’t get no help t’ stay either.”

“A regular haunted house, aye?” Jack’s eyes lit up.

Gibbs was practically dancing in agitation. “Cap’n? Maybe we oughtta just find us another berth for the night.”

“Bullocks!” Jack grinned. “I am intrigued and excited about meetin' this bonny ghost.” He waved a hand towards the door and the rain falling in torrents beyond. “Not to mention soakin’ wet and tired. You may go back out in that tempest if you wish, Mister Gibbs. I prefer to stay here where it is dry, and,” Jack glanced a hopeful look at Will. “Warmer.”

Gibbs gave another nervous look around. “Perhaps I ought t’ just go keep an eye on the men,” he mumbled, before turning his collar up and headed back into the night.

“What about you, Will? Are you afraid of the ghosts and ghouls?”

Will grinned at Jack. “I’ve faced worse.”

“Excellent!” Jack turned an expectant smile on the proprietor. “If you be so kind, it appears we will be needing a room for the night.”


****

The room was as dingy as the rest of the house, but dry and warm, once a fire was coaxed from the kindling in the small hearth. Will and Jack, both soaked to the skin, began to remove layers of clothing, huddling close to the fireplace.

Taking the shirt Will was holding, Jack hung it to dry along with his own, then tugged off his boots while making an observation.

“William, have you ever noticed that the ghouls and ghosties always show up whenever someone has a particular something of which that someone doesn’t want someone else to discover?”

Watching Jack plant his boots next to Will’s near the fireplace, Will removed his breeches, handing them to Jack, as well.

“So, you’re saying it’s not true? That we’ve been wasting our time?”


Jack hung the rest of their clothes up to dry and walked to Will, following keenly as the man reached to let his hair loose.

“Not at all.” Taking the cloth from Will, Jack continued; “I wager the story about the treasure is true enough. More than one tale is told of Black Bellamy’s treasure. And each tale holds a kernel of truth, if one is clever enough.”

Turning around almost as if rehearsed, Jack stood and waited for Will to gather all the trinkets and braids together adorning his head, then wrapped the cloth around his hair and tied it up tightly while Will‘s arms snuck around him.

Chin on Jack’s shoulder, Will stroke his palm over Jack’s side, holding him close.

“So you knew all this all along?”

Jack leaned into the embrace, aligning his head to look at Will from the corner of his eye.

“A version, yes. No one can sail with Mister Gibbs this long without hearing the local tales. Man is a veritable cornucopia of information.”

Registering Will’s eyes flicking from Jack’s eyes to his lips, then lower, Jack turned in Will’s arms and hugged him tightly to himself for a moment they had both been waiting for, ever since the morn had last forced them apart.

“Not always very reliable information.”

What made Jack close his eyes and rub his cheek to Will’s wasn’t the words, but the whisper they were delivered in.

His own tone was similarly soft, when he relinquished a long drawn-out sigh of relief and smiled into Will’s neck.

“Still wondering about those sea turtles, eh?”

Will shook his head slightly, placing a kiss next to Jack’s ear, smoothing his hand over Jack‘s back.

“Only about the hair.”

Both men chuckled over each other’s skin, then looked up, eyes gleaming in the light of the hearth, relaxed, playful smiles on both their faces.

The heat of the fireplace together with the inevitable heat created between the men had rapidly pushed the chill of the world outside into an uncomfortable memory, and after Will brushed his fingers gently over Jack’s cheekbone, and Jack threaded his fingers into Will’s hair and pulled him into a slow, tasting, relishing kiss, even the memory had vanished.

“I missed you.”

“I’ve been with you all day.”

Jack shook his head gravely once. “No.”

Without a pause he trapped Will into another kiss, a hungry, greedy one, one that left Will blissfully breathless and shifting his hips back to allow his suddenly demanding erection some room.

The comfortable lovers’ embrace instantly turned into a frantic search for more skin; under their hands, lips, the smooth touch of cock on cock, yet nothing seemed to suffice.

Will broke from biting Jack’s shoulder, panting with Jack’s hand finding a path to press a finger against Will’s opening. Stopping to suck a drop of saliva off Jack’s lower lip - Jack’s or his own, he didn’t know - Will took Jack’s hand and began to steer their way toward the bed.

Jack followed dreamily, enchanted by the pleasurable sensations rushing through him just a second ago, eyes half-closed as if to hold onto the feeling a little longer.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, Will prompted Jack to straddle his thighs. Once he was firmly balanced, Will curved his palms around Jack’s backside and engulfed the target of his desire with one smooth move.

The nigh on pained groan that Jack let out made Will’s shaft throb, and his resolve to enjoy the feel of Jack pressing against the back of his throat crumble. Instead of dallying with his favorite toy, Will took Jack as deep as he could, then released him, careful not to suck off the resulted slickness.

Jack grinned, eyes twinkling in a sign of full understanding as Will, after a blink of hesitation, looked up with lust-darkened eyes.

Hastily, Will wiggled himself further on the bed, intent on pulling Jack over him, but was halted by Jack’s hand on his knee, then on the other, pushing them up and towards the headboard. After lifting his head and seeing Jack staring at his now fully exposed hole like there was a wonderful buffet served in front of a starving man, Will couldn’t help but to drop his head down with an anticipating mewl.

Will didn’t have to wait long before he was swooped into a rain of sensations that made the hair on his arms stand on edge. Jack’s tongue laving across Will’s arse with a long swipe made Will tremble, and with the incomparable feeling of the organ pushing in firmly, and oh, so very deliciously, Will could not but to moan throatily through his dizziness.


Realizing what he’d done, Will slapped a hand over his mouth, muffling the sounds of pleasure, only to find that the feeling ended abruptly right after.

Disoriented, Will peered at Jack between his thighs and lifted an eyebrow at the intriguingly alerting curve of Jack’s lips.

“You know, Will,” Jack’s voice was dark and thick in the air. “We’re alone. There’s no one here but us.”

Jack bent his head down to blow gently over Will’s wet opening, eliciting a whimper from the young man.

“There’s no reason you can’t let me hear you.”

Fastening his lips on the puckered skin, Jack kissed and licked it as wet as he could, making his own small sounds of delight in response to the now less hindered ones coming from Will.

Jack sat up suddenly, eyes lightly closed and swallowing hard, looking to all the world like he was just this side of paradise. “That’s it darling,” he sighed, smiling widely, lowering Will’s legs while running his hands over them. “I like that.”

Meeting Will’s equally dazed look, Jack reached to smooth his hand over Will’s abdomen, while the other guided his cock to Will‘s entrance. ”Now give me more.”

Flushed and unbearably aroused, Will locked his legs around Jack’s waist, forcing him to lean over, and when he felt the cockhead pressing in, he released his hold of the sheets and found Jack’s arms to clutch.

Will hissed sharply, a sound which instinctively made Jack stop and wait, lean on his elbows and bend his head to kiss and nip a trail from one darkened nipple to another, and to savor the incredible pulsing tightness around the crown of his cock together with the feel of Will‘s rough hands roaming on his shoulders.

“Jack?” Will sounded out of breath.

Jack made a sound of acknowledgement around his mouthful.

“The proprietor. He’s downstairs.”

Jerking his head up, Jack released a nipple with a slurping sound and looked at Will in wordless disbelief, silently damning every proprietor there ever was to the deepest pits of hell.

He soon forgot his scorn, as Will pushed himself further on Jack’s cock, bit his lip and giggled impishly. “I just wanted to see that face.”

Jack snorted and ducked for a retaliating nip, making Will yelp and chuckle, which soon changed into a groan out of the exquisite feeling of being slowly and surely filled.

Every bit of mischief dropped as the two men reveled in the togetherness, the moment of closeness which always waited for them, no matter what they‘d gone through to get there, and if either of them were to be asked, both would’ve agreed it was well worth the wait.

In a blatant show of adorement, eyes bright, Will cupped his hand to Jack’s face, and was rewarded with Jack looking back with his gaze soft, tender, open, leaning to the touch, bowing to brush his lips on Will’s wrist without leaving his eyes from Will‘s.

Inevitably, the moment passed as their yearn for each other grew unbearable, and Will pulled Jack down for a kiss, capturing Jack tightly with his legs.
“I missed you too.”


The moment was rudely disturbed by a chilling wail which seemed to be coming from the walls themselves. Both men froze to their spots, Jack buried hilt deep in Will, their lips still joint, eyes flung wide open. A second later Jack leaned his head back with a surprised smirk. “That’s new.”

“What was that?”

Jack bit his lip, impatient, and nudged his hips forward, making Will briefly tighten his hold of his arms.

“You mean to tell me that wasn’t you?”

“Jack.” Will put a hand against Jack’s chest to halt him, Jack‘s movements making it impossible to form coherent thoughts. “I think it was… her.”

“So what if it was?”

“Perhaps we should go look?”

“At what?” Jack wrought his hands around and under Will possessively, intent on not letting him go before they were good and finished with one thing, before launching to another. “Darling, she’s probably just envious of what I have… got… am getting. Come to think of it, who wouldn’t feel left out?”

“Do you think she’s watching us?”

“Why not? I would. Besides, she‘s dead. You wish to deny her of the one and only chance of witnessing you coming all over me? How can you be so cruel?”

“But…”

“Forget about her. William,” Jack withdrew, drawing a small delighted groan from Will, and pushed back sharply. ”That’s an order.”

Will flicked his eyes to Jack’s, arched luxuriously to get Jack in deeper, and sighed with a humored smile.

“Aye, Captain.”

****