Actions

Work Header

Interceptor

Work Text:

The moon was bright as Will stepped out onto the deck of the Interceptor, and the ocean breeze stirred the hair that had escaped his hair ribbon. It was a beautiful night and he knew he should appreciate it, but the rolling of the ship left him feeling uneasy. Not nauseated - he'd found his sea legs surprisingly fast - but uncomfortable. Like there was something huge and inescapable around the corner waiting to overwhelm him, perhaps. Out of control, or on the verge of it.

He strolled around to the aft of the ship, looking up at the moon and worrying about Elizabeth in a vague, back-of-the-mind sort of way. He kept pushing the worry away, as there was nothing to be done about it at the moment, but it just kept circling back to him, rolling in like the sea.

"You should be getting your rest," Captain Jack Sparrow's velvet slur floated over from the ship's wheel. "Hard fight ahead of you tomorrow, most likely."

"I couldn't sleep. You'll be fighting tomorrow too; why aren't you sleeping, then?"

"It's my shift. I'll be heading below when Anamaria comes to spell me in a while."

The ship made her quiet night noises, wooden planks singing quietly, rope and sails humming their accompaniment, bow whispering as it cut through the ocean. Will leaned back against the deck railing and looked up again at the stars.

"She'll be all right, mate. She's a tough lass, despite bein' the governor's daughter. By now she's probably tossed old Barbossa into the drink and taken over. Like as not, it'll be her I'll have to challenge for the Pearl."

That made Will chuckle a little, then they fell into silence again. It was strange how he'd grown accustomed to this pirate over a few short days, so that now he could stand in companionable silence with him and be glad for the company.

The sound of bootheels was added to the nocturne, and Anamaria approached the wheel. She saluted with a lazy grin. "Cap'n."

"Second mate. Take care of her."

"Aye, Cap'n, as if she was me own."

Jack gave her a dazzling smile and a limp-wristed return salute. Anamaria's greed for the Interceptor was a mirror of Jack's lust for the Pearl and he seemed to appreciate the similarities.

As he passed Will on his way below deck, the Captain said quietly, "Splice the mainbrace with me, then, Turner?"

"Beg pardon?"

He turned to face Will square, with a pouty frown. "Do. You. Want. A. Drink," he said very slowly, though it didn't help his enunciation much. "Might help you sleep."

"Oh, all right, then. Thanks." And he followed Jack below.

The Captain's cabin was roomy, outfitted with ornately carved furniture and fine cloth. Jack waved him in and closed the door behind them before digging out a bottle of rum and two glasses from a heavy wooden chest.

He set them on the wooden dining table and took a seat, gesturing expansively for Will to join him. "Captain's bunk's a bit grand, don't you think? Three times the size of the Pearl's at least, we pirates going in for a bit more equality than His Majesty's Navy. Anamaria's got a life of luxury laid out before her, if she can keep her crew from mutinying." He poured generous amounts of rum into each glass, slid one over to Will and raised his own. "To Miss Swann's health."

"Miss Swann." They drank and Will's eyes watered though he managed to keep himself from coughing.

Jack drained his glass in one go and refilled it, while Will had only managed to swallow a fourth of his before he had been forced into a temporary surrender. Jack's gaze settled on Will's face when he was finished pouring.

"Sink me, but you do look like your father." He shook his head and beads rattled. "Murdered many a bottle of rum between us, did William Turner and I." He raised his glass. "To William Turner. One of the finest I ever sailed with."

"To my father," Will answered and took another drink of the punishing rum. It didn't go down any smoother, but it left a pleasant warmth in its wake.

"Let me tell you a story about your father, Will," Jack's voice was low and smooth as honey. As he spoke he filled his glass again and poured more rum into Will's. "This was when he was serving on the Black Pearl -" He raised his glass. "To the Black Pearl."

"To the Pearl," Will agreed, and took a slightly larger drink of rum. He was quite pleased that he seemed to be getting used to the stuff and it hardly burned at all going down this time.

"We sailed into Tortuga with the sails reefed against a strong wind and a hold full of gold. Once we'd seen the sutler and the Pearl was well-stocked, we divvied up the shares and all the crew went out for a bit of recreation." He raised his glass. "To recreation!"

Well, if that seemed a little silly to Will, it was rude to refuse a toast. "Recreation!" He found that rum became rather tasty once you adjusted to it.

Jack told how he and Will's father had escaped from a band of ill-tempered fellows who were cross on account of losing a game of cards, and how Bill had single-handedly prevented the Pearl from being seized by His Majesty's Navy, and how Bill had trounced a scurvy bilge rat who'd threatened a lady in the port of St. John's. Every story was wandering and full of colour and painted William Turner as a hero among pirates. And each one seemed to require a great deal of toasting.

Before long Will was enjoying himself immensely, even if the seas seemed to have picked up and started spinning the ship around in a circle. Jack said it was nothing to worry about, though, and so Will had another drink.

The next thing he knew, he was flat on his back with a splitting headache. He opened one eye cautiously and discovered that the dim sunlight coming through the windows was an instrument of foulest torture. He also realized that he was lying in the Captain's four-post bed, tucked under the generous bed linens without a stitch of clothing on. And thirdly, that the Captain in current possession of the Captain's Bed was sharing both the blankets and Will's state of complete undress. Jack's long legs were wrapped around Will's and one arm curled around his waist while the other tucked up around his chest, with the bare length of the rest of him pressed shamelessly against Will's side. It was evident that the Captain's Jolly Roger was flying at considerably more than half mast. And Will was in much the same predicament, he realized with a mortified blush. Good God, what had happened the night before?

Or perhaps that was a question better left unanswered.

He closed his eyes and tried to formulate a plan. Unfortunately, the space between his ears was completely taken up with skull-splitting pain and mind-numbing panic. Finally, after lying there in agony for some ten minutes, he managed come up with a course of action consisting of a) finding his clothing and b) looking into drowning himself.

As Will tried to disentangle himself from the unexpectedly friendly pirate, Jack stirred. He opened his eyes and gave Will a lascivious smirk that sent tingles directly to parts Will was desperately ignoring. "'Morning, love. Managed to get some sleep after all, then?"

Will was definitely not ready to deal with Captain Jack Sparrow at the moment. He put the pillow over his face and hoped that he would wake up in his own bed above the smithy, having never so much as laid eyes on any pirate, ever. "So it would appear," he responded into the pillow.

"Head's in a state, is it? Old Jack's got just the remedy for that." Who would have figured Jack Sparrow for a cheerful morning person? Will thought irritably. Then he felt Jack's fingers sliding down his chest and southward, and with a surprised yelp he sat up and scooted back against the headboard as far as he could go.

"Umm, that's getting a bit more familiar than I'd care to be," he stammered, his face ablaze with embarrassment.

Jack's smile was lazy, like a the sweet languor of a remembered tryst. "That's not the tune you were singin' last night, mate." And with that, his nimble fingers slid over Will's lap, fast as a snake, and grasped Will's anatomy in a very familiar way.

Will sputtered and gasped in shock, but he couldn't seem to do anything to move away. Then Jack began moving his hand very deliberately, very deliciously, and Will let out something like a cross between a sigh and a squeak. Jack leaned closer and kissed Will's open mouth before anything could be done to stop him. It was different than any kiss Will had ever had, fierce and wild and possessive. It was the kiss of a man who took what he fancied, and it would appear that he fancied Will. Will felt lightheaded, as though he couldn't breathe, as though he'd die if Jack stopped moving his hand.

Will moaned and Jack chuckled and pulled back. "Not so bad, is it?" He kissed down the length of Will's throat, licked his way down Will's chest, while his delightful, thieving fingers kept moving. Then he replaced them with his smart mouth, and Will bucked into him, biting back curses as Jack engulfed him and demonstrated what a wide variety of skills one can pick up as a pirate.

In a short while, Will was crying out, "Yes, God, yes, yes!" and Captain Jack Sparrow was swallowing for all he was worth. Will collapsed back on the bed in a haze of afterglow, and Jack began digging through a chest next to the bed with one hand as he stroked Will's thigh with the other. He found what he was looking for with a hum of triumph and returned his attention to doing a very thorough job of kissing Will Turner. Will was too spent to fight him, or to fight how good it felt, and he gave up any notion of virtue or propriety as a lost cause. Evidently that bird had flown the cage the night before, regardless.

Once he'd kissed Will into submission, Jack began moving down Will's body again, laying two bejeweled fingers gently over Will's lips when he began to protest that it was too soon. And as the pirate licked and kissed him, Will felt himself beginning to stir and he realized that Captain Jack Sparrow knew what he was doing. Will was hard again by the time Jack's hot mouth was around him, and when Jack moved even lower and put his tongue in a very surprising place, Will nearly levitated off the bed with pleasure. That something which was surely so wrong could feel so amazingly right seemed distinctly unfair. Jack continued with this sweet torture for some time until Will began begging him for release.

"Patience, mate," Jack whispered. "Captain Jack Sparrow's not done with you yet." Will shivered, and Jack sat up to open the small bottle he'd retrieved from the chest and pour some oil over his fingers. Then, to Will's great relief, he applied that talented mouth to the matter which had come up. Will's world had contracted down to pure sensation; he was floating on this sinful pleasure and all other concerns were lost. When Jack introduced the oiled fingers into the proceedings, all that mattered to Will was how they seemed, impossibly, to coax him even further into the spell, so that he was panting and arching like a wildcat, and calling Jack's name without shame.

Then Jack stopped and Will pleaded, "No, don't stop, please Jack." And Jack smiled exactly as Will had always imagined the Devil would smile, silken and smug and so, so beautiful.

"We're not stoppin', me lad. This could hurt a mite at first, but it's worth it." He leaned down to whisper in Will's ear as he poured some of the oil and slicked himself. "They're gonna hear you callin' my name in Tortuga, Will Turner."

Will groaned and Jack slid in. And yes, it burned, until Jack wrapped his clever fingers around him and stroked, and suddenly Jack was all the way in, and it began to feel good. Beyond good. And Jack began moving, and Will's breath was hitching in his lungs, and he'd had no idea that anything could feel this encompassing, this consuming. He felt like pieces of him were burning away, and Jack was murmuring in that rolling slur, "You're a gorgeous thing, Will Turner, you're like a feast. I knew, I knew, you'd be so good, so tight, like a fire, brandin' me." And Jack was moving faster, and Will was gone, lights exploding behind his eyes as he cried Jack's name. Another stroke, then two, and Jack was there as well, with a moan and a curse that sounded more like a prayer.

Jack collapsed onto Will and they laid there for long minutes, panting, sweaty, thoroughly spent. After a bit, Jack rolled off to one side and wrapped himself around Will much as he had that morning, though now he was considerably stickier.

Stickier.

Will opened his eyes and scowled at the miscreant who called himself Captain Jack Sparrow. "Nothing happened last night!"

Jack's crooked, arrogant smirk only made him look guilty, though Will could admit, it wasn't an unattractive guilt. "I never said it had."

"You did so! You said, 'That's not the tune you were singing last night, mate,'" Will answered in his best Captain Jack Sparrow impression.

"Ah, but you neglected to ask what the tune was that you were singing last night." He began to sing delightedly. "Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!" He laughed, giggled, really, and pillowed his hands beneath his head. "Spiritually, ecumenically, grammatically, I am an honest man."

Will shook his head and groaned. "Hardly. I can't believe you would stoop to such trickery just to ravish an unsuspecting, respectable person!"

"Pirate." He sounded like he was having the time of his life. "Oh, come now, Will. You were hardly fightin' me off, now were you? Your sword's right there, on the floor next to the bed. I wasn't holdin' you down. It didn't take much convincin' before you were calling Captain Jack's Sparrow's name like the name of God."

He was right. Will groaned again and covered his face with his hands.

"Cheer up, me hearty," Jack said and ran a light finger down Will's wrist. "Your head's all cleared now and we've got a bracing fight ahead of us today. You'll be feeling all manly again in no time."

Will got up with a muttered curse and began gathering his clothes together from where they were scattered all over the room. He pulled on his breeches and looked over at the bed. The bedclothes were lying there as he'd tossed them, leaving Jack uncovered above the knees. His eyes glittered black, rimmed with smudged darkness, and his skin gleamed gold in the weak sunlight. The very picture, the embodiment, of exotic sin.

"How long would you say until we catch up to the Pearl?" Will asked.

"Oh, I'd say by the sun there's an hour or two at least."

Will smiled and began undressing again.