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It's been seven days since Will Turner abandoned Port Royal to sail the seven seas with Captatin Jack Sparrow aboard the Black Pearl. His exit had been somewhat more dignified than Jack's, being that he was able to finish his goodbyes to Elizabeth before diving into the water, but Jack didn't much mind.
Especially since young Will seems to have forgotten how to properly exist on a ship, despite having been on them a fair bit during his last adventure. It takes him three days to get his sea legs, and his wobbling around on the deck of the Pearl has the crew chuckling and ribbing him good-naturedly every time he stumbles. Jack would join in on the fun if Will wasn't so bloody distracting.
Inelegant as he is on the ship for his first three days, Will's every misstep has a way of throwing into sharp relief just what a fine young specimen of manhood he is. And Jack, well, Jack can't help but notice the curve of his throat and the lines of muscle on his arms and legs and back and chest and—well, and everywhere that his stumbling emphasizes. Soaked to the bone more often than not from sweat and seawater, Will displays his body in a way that must be unintentional but that has Jack praying to a god he's pretty sure he doesn't believe in for him to stop before Jack goes mad.
Because Jack is not usually one to deny his desires, but he holds himself back just this once. This—whatever he feels for the whelp is too interesting and too good to risk ruining everything. So instead of making his desires known immediately, he attempts to be subtle. Not that he's very good at being subtle; Gibbs and Anna Maria and more or less the entire crew notices immediately that he's completely enamored with their new crew mate, and whenever Will is out of earshot, they tease Jack terribly over it.
But it's been a week, and Will shows no signs of reciprocating Jack's desires, or even of noticing them. The teasing has gradually died down, because the crew are not so cruel as to torment Jack over unrequited feelings, and Jack grows more and more convinced that he will have to push his feelings aside and pretend he was never interested in Will in the first place. He's stopped “assisting” Will with tasks on deck and no longer makes it a point to eat with him, spending more and more time sulking in the captain's quarters as he tries to figure out how to go about divorcing himself from his attraction to him.
Jack has finally started to accept that Will does not and will never want him when Will asks him if he can speak privately with him about an idea he's had for their next target. Jack is a little taken aback; Will may be a pirate, but he hasn't shown much enthusiasm for the actual business of piracy. Jack suspects his decision to sail on the Pearl has more to do with understanding himself than with any desire for gold. But if Will has an idea, he wants to hear it. Will is a clever lad, after all, and his ideas tend to be good.
So he's completely unprepared for what happens when he closes the door to the captain's quarters behind him.
Will pins Jack against the door and claims his mouth in a bruising kiss. Jack immediately returns the kiss, parting his lips so that Will's tongue can dart into his mouth, tentatively at first and then more boldly. Will's right leg is pressed firmly between Jack's, and there's no hiding exactly how interested he is in this turn of events. Not that he intends to; his hands roam Will's body, one working his shirt free from his belt and creeping under it to touch the skin at his side. It's heady and just a bit overwhelming, but he can't bring himself to care.
When Will pulls away, Jack makes a frustrated sound and reaches out to him. But Will just takes a step back, crossing his arms over his chest, and gives him a strange look that's half lust, half apprehension.
“So I was right,” he says with a smirk.
“I thought you weren't interested,” Jack replies, slightly breathlessly. “You didn't react at all—though to be fair, I suppose I was trying to be subtle.”
“Jack, you were about as subtle as an oar to the head,” Will says, laughing. “I just wanted to make sure you weren't...that it wasn't just a game.”
“It's all a game, my boy,” Jack says, hooking his thumb into his belt. “But that doesn't mean I don't want you.”
“Will I regret it if I succumb to your charms?” Will asks.
“Only you can decide that,” Jack replies.
“Well, then,” Will says.
“Well, then,” Jack echoes.
Partially as revenge for the unexpected kiss and partially because he's getting tired of waiting, Jack rolls his eyes and begins to undress. Boots first, then his coat, then his belts and his weapons, and he's beginning to remove his shirt when he notices that Will hasn't moved. He cocks an eyebrow at him and grins.
“This isn't the time to be feeling shy, young William,” he chides him. “Now, I reckon we have maybe half an hour before someone decides to come knocking, which means we'd better get a move on if you want to do any and all manner of indecent things to my person.”
Will nods mutely and unfastens his belt.
There is a bed, if one can really call it that, in the corner of the room, and Jack nudges Will over to it as they remove their clothes. He wants to enjoy the sight of those finely-toned muscles emerging from their coarse wrappings, but as he's said, there isn't much time, and he is willing to make sacrifices if it means enjoying other parts of Will's body.
“Definitely not a eunuch, then,” Jack comments in spite of himself as Will steps out of his breeches.
“You'll stop with those jokes,” Will warns, “or I'll put my clothes back on and leave.”
“Yes, yes, I'm sorry,” Jack says distractedly, admiring the lines of muscle leading from his hips to his already very interested cock. “One moment, please.”
He darts to his discarded coat and fishes a small bottle of oil from its pockets. Will watches him, likely not quite understanding, and Jack waggles the bottle in front of him.
“To ease the way,” Jack explains. “A little pain can be good, but I'm not one for actual injury.”
He drops gracefully onto the bed and removes his rings before he spreads a liberal amount of oil on his fingers. Will just stares, clearly confused, as Jack reaches between his bent legs to probe carefully at his hole with an oil-slicked digit. Jack tries to focus on the job at hand, but Will's staring is making it difficult.
“You do know how this works, don't you?” he asks.
“Yes, of course,” Will starts, then adds “but I assumed you would want...”
“Aye, but I'm assuming this is your first time doing anything like this?” Jack asks him, and when Will nods, he continues “Then let's make it as...pleasurable as possible for you, shall we?”
He pauses, thoughtful.
“Not that it's not pleasurable on my end, of course,” he says, chuckling. “But you can find out more about that later, when we have more time.”
He slides one finger past the ring of muscle and works it in up to the last knuckle while Will watches, looking fascinated. Jack smirks at him and pulls the finger out so he can begin to work a second one in alongside it. The burn is just this side of painful, but he keeps at it, working himself open with a practiced efficiency. Completely buried inside of him, the tips of the two fingers brush against the spot that makes him see stars behind his eyelids, and he lets out a breathy laugh.
“I think that's enough,” he says, withdrawing the fingers. “I could use three fingers, but I'm an impatient man, and besides, we are on a very tight schedule today.”
He spreads more oil on the palm of his hand and reaches over to coat Will's cock with the slippery liquid. Will starts but lets Jack do it, and when Jack withdraws his hand, Will kneels on the bed between his legs, eyes dark with lust.
“You know what to do?” Jack asks, a little teasingly.
“It's not like I've never—” Will protests, but Jack puts a finger to his lips to shush him.
“I know,” he says fondly. “Just make sure to go slow. It's not quite like fucking a woman.”
Will shudders but lines himself up, glancing between where he has his cock pressed against Jack's hole and where Jack's eyes are burning through him. Will pushes in just a bit, and Jack's body relaxes to accommodate him. He pushes in a little more, and the muscle eases around the head of his cock while Jack squirms and pants under him. Will smiles, a little more feral than he probably intended, and pushes a little further into him.
“I'm not that delicate!” Jack grunts, and takes hold of Will's hips to pull him forward the rest of the way. “Ah, Christ, that's good!”
Jack's erection has already left a smear of precome on his belly, and his knuckles are white, fingers leaving marks that will probably bruise on Will's hips. He won't last long, not without Will buried in him up to the hilt, not with Will watching him like he's never properly looked at him before. The whelp shifts his position to cover Jack's body with his own, and he catches Jack's mouth in another bruising kiss. Jack moans and privately bets that he won't last more than a few minutes at this rate.
“You can move now, you know,” he tells him when they break for air.
Will pulls most of the way out of him and thrusts back into him, and Jack can't quite breathe for a moment. It almost hurts, but the burn and the intrusion are delicious, better than anything else on Earth—except, perhaps, for being the one doing the fucking. Jack laughs low in his chest and guides Will into a rhythm just this side of too fast, knowing he'll be feeling this for days to come and relishing the thought of it. And then Will hits that perfect spot inside of him once, twice, thrice, and he curses in every language he can remember.
“Did I hurt—“ Will starts, but Jack interrupts him.
“Course not,” he grunts. “Will, my boy, that was perfect. Now if you could get to doing it again?”
Will nods and resumes his thrusts. He hits that same spot with most of them, and Jack, knowing he won't last much longer, takes himself in hand to make sure he'll come before Will does. And when that beautiful heat builds in the pit of his stomach, he relishes it and allows it to overtake him, because there's no sense in fighting it when they don't have much time anyway. Jack comes with Will's name on his lips and his eyes wide open.
When he goes limp and pliant under Will's roaming hands, Will stops moving and gives him a strange look.
“Should I...?” he asks, the words trailing off.
“Keep going, mate,” Jack replies with a grunt, throwing an arm behind his head so he can prop himself up a little.
Will looks at him a moment longer with that odd expression, something like concern, before he keeps moving. Little by little, the afterglow eases off, and Jack's body quickly becomes sore and oversensitive, but Will still isn't finished, and Jack will be damned if Will doesn't come inside of him. So he watches the way Will's face and body tense up as he thrusts in and relax as he pulls most of the way out, only to tense and relax again. Jack takes a moment to really look at how Will's muscles move under his smooth skin and wonders how Will feels about his own scar-riddled, sea-ravaged body. He must like it, though, because with a strangled cry that can probably be heard by everyone on board the ship, Will spills his seed into Jack's sore but willing body.
Will all but collapses on him then, ignoring the sticky wetness between them. Jack fumbles for a rag to clean them up with and wipes off most of the mess, but he can't be bothered to do more than that. It's too tempting to just lay there, enjoying the heat of another person's body against his and feeling the gentle rocking of the ship beneath them. They can't stay long, of course, but they can spare another minute. Jack is tempted to drift off to sleep, but he knows he doesn't have that option at the moment, so soon enough, he pushes Will off of him and gingerly gets up to retrieve his clothes.
“Your idea for a target was me, then?” he says good-naturedly, tugging on his breeches.
“Of course,” Will replies, still sitting on the edge of the bed.
“Best be getting dressed, mate,” Jack says with a quiet chuckle. “The crew'll be wanting to know what took us so long, assuming they haven't already figured out what we were up to.”
“I'm relatively certain they know what we were up to,” Will sighs. “But you're right; it's time to get back to work.”
Jack grins, tucking his shirt in and hunting for his boots.
“Later,” he promises, “when we have more time, I'll show you how it feels to be on the other end of that particular equation. You'll love it, given a little practice.”
“Is that so?” Will asks lazily, finally getting up to retrieve his clothes. “I can't imagine it feels any better than being on this end of it.”
“It's a different kind of pleasure,” Jack replies with a shrug. “You'll see.”
When they're both more or less presentable, Jack leans in to give Will a short and chaste kiss. Will raises an eyebrow at him but smiles and adjusts Jack's hat. Jack chuckles.
“Now,” he says, “no displays of affection where others can see. Not that anyone will mind, but it's impolite, savvy?”
“Of course,” Will murmurs. “Ready, Captain?”
Jack just grins and opens the door.