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It's Not Gay if it's Underway

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Will turned over in bed, feeling the cool sheets against his face.  For a moment he thought he was back in Port Royale: soon the sun would peek through the blinds and his day's work would begin.  Just a few more minutes of blissful calm before dragging himself to the smithy's fire, he thought.  He lingered in that space between dream and reality, letting out a long sigh.

He heard the scratch of a quill from somewhere in the room.  He opened his eyes to find himself in near dark and the steady sway of a ship beneath him.


Will lifted his head and winced, the world spinning, and he fell back with a thud.  The wine.  Last night.  Had they…?

He drew himself up on his elbows and crawled to the edge of the bed.  The bucket was still there, and he sat upright with great difficulty and grabbed it to his chest.  He let out a discouraging cough, and the scratching stopped.  

Will's eyes finally adjusted to the dark figure in the room, and he saw Jones pivot around from his desk to shoot him a glare.

"In the bucket ," he warned.

Will would have hurled the bucket at Jones if he'd had the strength.  He collected his wits, pushing through the hangover's irritable fog.  For the first time since waking, he noticed his body was drenched in sweat.

"What did wedid you do?" he asked weakly.

Perhaps Will was too pathetic in that moment for anger, and Jones simply rolled his eyes.

"You're a poor pirate who can't hold his drink.  We did nothing." 

Will was silent.  The night's events were filtering through in pieces, and he couldn't recall anything contrary to Jones' word.  Something constricted in his chest, and with a disquieting realization, he couldn't tell if it was relief or resentment.  Jones' face twitched.  "Do you wish it otherwise?" 

"No," Will quickly replied.  "No, Iwasn't in my right mind."

Jones snorted and gave a derisive smirk.  "I've never seen a man so desperate as you.  He drew the word out, and Will looked away.  "The crew must have led you to this." 

Will set down the bucket and stood, not meeting Jones' eyes.  "They did."  

He turned and made for the door.  His face was burning, scarcely able to contain his shame.  Hot tears pooled in his eyes and he struggled to hold them in.  How utterly stupid he'd been.

Will hadn't heard Jones rise or cross the room, and it was as he was reaching for the door that the voice came from his back.


Will turned slowly to face Jones.  The captain's expression was calculating, as if studying a ship for leaks.  Will's still-sluggish haze kept him from reacting when Jones' hand shot up his neck.

Will gasped, expecting the crushing force against his throatbut none came.  His fingers encircled Will's neck, gently, as the tentacle snaked down across his collarbone and under the edge of his shirt.  It pressed against his skin, settling in like a creature of its own, and Will realized in shock that Jones was leaving his marks there.

Will felt his skin pucker underneath Jones' touch.  He opened his mouth, but no words came, and his heart quickened.  Jones' gaze never broke from his, though it was still as strange and prying as before.

Jones finally released him, seemingly satisfied with his work.  As his hand withdrew, a soft " Mm" came from Will's throat, and Will coughed, trying to mask the sound.  Jones raised a single eyebrow.

"For the crew to cease its taunting.  Perhaps then they'll allow you to fulfill your duties."  Jones sniffed.  "Not that you ever achieved much to begin with."

Will quite suddenly turned and left, with Jones likely thinking it was the insultbut Will knew that the tension growing in his lower half was not related to anger.



Bill found his son gazing out over the sparkling sea with a twinkle in his eye.  As he neared, he saw the marks along Will's neck, and surprise lit up his features.

"Well, now!"  He slapped Will on the back, startling him.  "My boy has become a man.  Tell me it was as good as I had it."

Will choked on his spit.

"What?" Bil leaned back against the railing.  "I missed out on the rest of your life, we may as well share it now."

"I don't want to share him," Will said.  Bill raised his eyebrows, and Will fumbled.  "I meantfather and son having the same man, it's not right." 

"Oh, we don't do it anymore," Bill said.  "It's been a few years.  Ever since my mind started leaving me, he's found, well, greener pastures."  He cleared his throat.  "Anyway, crew's saying we have a mark half a day south, just a few miles off Nassau.  It might be your chance to jump ship, grab one of their longboats and go." 

Will balked.  He'd had no idea they'd be coming that close to landin truth, there was no point since his capture when he ever actually knew where they were.  "And then what?  Row for miles in open water?  It's a gamble of whether I'd make it ashore at all."

Bill shrugged.  "It's that or eternal damnation.  You said it yourself."

They shared a thoughtful moment of silence before Bill excused himself to resume his work.  Will looked back over the rolling water to weigh his destiny.

It was late afternoon when the crew spotted sails on the horizon.  Penrod made his way up to the crow's nest and Jones and the rest waited down below.  Will felt his pulse quicken in proximity to the captain, and he avoided looking his way.

Penrod scuttled down, handing a spyglass to Jones.  "French flag.  Heading northeast.  We can be on her in an hour, maybe less."

An hour? Will looked around the crew, awestruck.  He had greatly underestimated the speed of the cursed ship.

Jones squinted through the glass and replaced it in his coat pocket. "Secure the hold and prepare to dive.  We will make the full approach from below."

The crew scattered save for the newest recruits and Will.  They exchanged confused stares, until Jones finally noticed them.  He snapped his great claw in Maccus' direction.

"Maccus, tie down the fresh blood before they perish."

Jones made to leave, but a thought seemed to have struck him, and he whirled back around.  He fixed his wide eyes on Will and pointed his terrible claw at him.

" You, " he growled, "are not sworn.  You cannot breathe the sea as we do." 

Maccus and the new recruits stood tensely by, waiting on the captain's orders.

Jones' smacked his lips with a pop.  "Lock yourself in the powder hold, and do not move until we surface."  

He whipped his head back to the new recruits and feigned a lunge.  They flinched, cowering back, and Jones gave a snorting laugh before departing.  

Will slowly crossed the ship to the hatch, watching the crew scramble to tie down the guns and loose line.  Maccus had brought the recruits to the center mast and was winding lengths of rope around them, their faces drained of color.  

"Just until you get your sea legs," Maccus said with a laugh.  

Will noticed Jones stalking between the men, seemingly surveying preparations.  He stepped up behind Clankerthe biggest man aboard, always dragging around the guns and carrying shot.  Clanker felt the captain's presence and turned, and Jones flicked his head in the direction of his quarters.  With an affirmative grunt, Clanker passed off his work to another man and followed Jones.  

Will watched them silently, and his jaw tightened in a prickle of resentment.

"Get to the hold, you dumb fuck," Maccus shouted.  The new recruits were lashed to the mast,  whispering frantic prayers and weeping, as the ship gave a great creak.  Will fled below, barreling through the doors until he made it to the powder room and slammed the door behind him.  The room was lit by strange, luminescent sea things stuck to the walls.

Under normal circumstances, a fully submerged ship even with all its hatches and doors closed would still see its powder soaked.  But as Will fiddled with the lock on the door, he saw movement in the corner of his eye, and he pulled back in surprise.  

The living wood of the ship crept out from the door frame and percolated through the gaps.  It grew like seaweed, sealing the room off, and Will knew then that the crew and the ship were intertwined: a single living being.

He heard dull thuds from the ceiling and looked up.  He had been on the ship long enough to recognize the rhythm of Jones' stride, claw leg thunking the floor.  Will suddenly realized that in addition to there being not one, but two dry rooms on the ship, Jones' spacious cabin was one of them.

And he had sent Will down below.

Will didn't have time to marinate in his indignation, as the ship pitched forward, sending the barrels rolling against the wall.  He threw himself into a corner and braced.  The sound of the Dutchman diving into the waters was unlike anything Will had heard before.  He felt the sea take them, surging, stealing the air out of every corner, the timbers quaking against her might.  His stomach churned, but the ship held, groaning, plunging still deeper into the sea.

In his mind's eye he saw the new recruits tied to the mast, their eyes wide as their lungs filled with water.  

The ship slowly leveled, and Will sidestepped the rolling barrels until they settled neatly back in place.  He waited a few minutes before settling down, eyeing the glowing creatures on the walls in the stuffy, cramped place.  An hour, maybe less, Penrod had said.  

What to do for an hour?

He considered sleeping, as uncomfortable as it was, but being unconscious when the ship surfaced would surely lead to a fatal barrel accident.  He was in the middle of another thought when he heard a thump on the floor above.

" Put your back into it," came Jones' unmistakable growl.

Will froze.  The boards directly above him were thin enough to hear everything.  Jones had sprung upon Clanker as soon as the ship leveled.  Will imagined the captain had him now pinned to the floor, bending the large man to his will.

"You need to fuck me, not amuse me," Jones ordered.  

A meek reply, "Sorry, sir ." 

There was a shuffle, another hard thump , and one of them let out a strangled moan.

Will's mouth fell open.  It was Jones.  

Will sat in overwhelmed silence as Clanker continued to work the captain against the floor above.  He could hear the sound of Jones' claw and leg scraping against wood as he absorbed every thrust, letting out varying groans and sighs.  

Will felt the seam of his trousers begin to tighten, and he pressed a hand down on his arousal.

"Take myhrrm," Jones grunted, command preemptively filled.

Will's hands began unbuttoning of their own accord, and he closed his eyes.

Clanker took Jones from behind, railing the captain face down on the floor of his own cabin.  Jones' eyes were pinned shut, his face contorted in pain and pleasure, arms struggling to hold himself up against the powerful force that had him.

"The wall," Jones managed between gasps.

Clanker pulled himself out, roughly flipped the captain over, and lifted him by the waist with a heavy groan.  The two men were equal in mass, yet Clanker managed to lift Jones and heave him bodily against the wall with a thudding echo.  Jones swore.

Will massaged himself, a red flush creeping up his chest under the puckers that Jones left him.

Clanker took Jones' member into his hand and pumpedroughly, inhumanly, as if hauling an anchor up from the sea.  Jones' head fell back, his expression tortured, but no command came from his lips.  Right before it seemed Jones was about to release, Clanker stopped.  He searched Jones' face for a moment before turning the captain, chest slammed against the wall, and entered him again from behind.

Will continued to pleasure himself to the sounds coming from aboveClanker's domination of Jones dragged them both mere seconds from the edge before he changed tactics, denying the captain's release. 

Jones was insatiable, Will thought, as sweat pooled above his lip.  From his precarious spot on his barrel, he envied the sounds of movement, of every inch of space exploited for their continued pleasure.  Will had to keep readjusting himself multiple times before he thought he would release, feeling a new splinter or barrel edge digging into his skinwhich only drew out his frustration.

The rhythm increased above, and he could tell Jones was near the end.  Finally, mercifully, Clanker allowed him to finish, and Jones' moans dragged on, wave after wave, subsiding over the course of a full minute.

Will swore and tried desperately to finish himself, but it was as if the ship itself knew Jones was done, and the vessel pitched back.  Will cried out, falling over in a tumble of barrels.

The Dutchman broke the surface and Will heard the water rushing out from her, as he lay motionless on his back, his head throbbing.

The door remained locked, but a presence materialized in the room, and a voice spoke out.  It was Jones.

"Make for the deck and spring across once the guns are"

He stopped, mid-sentence.  Will lay in the center of the room, his trousers down to his knees, his erect member exposed.

Will and Jones met each other's eyes.  Neither spoke.  Jones' beard, for the first time, lay utterly limp, each tendril hung like a drying fish.  His blue eyes were fixed unblinking on Will's, straining not to veer down.

Before Will could react, Jones sank back into the wall, de-materializing out of the room.


Will made for the door, buttoning his clothes and flying up the stairs.  The sounds of gunfire boomed around him, the Dutchman already shredding through the surprised ship's hull.  Will emerged into sunlight, blinking hard through the smoke and glare, and spotted the crew already throwing nets over to jump to the other ship.

Maccus ran by with an armful of swords, shoving one into Will's hands before equipping the new recruits.

" Move!" 

Will and the others ran for the railing, and with a great leap Will threw himself across the divide.  He clutched onto the woven net and dragged himself up the side of the other ship.  

The deck was brutal chaos.  The French crew had been caught completely unprepared, guns not even loaded, only a few men armed.  The Dutchman's crew slashed through them, gaining more than a fair advantage by the stunned horror paralyzing half the men.  

When Will and the new recruits boarded, a brief glimmer of hope passed through the nearest man's eyesbut the recruit nearest Will plunged his sword deep into the man's heart.  The man sank to the floor, realization fixed on his dying face.

Will saw his father battling two men by the helm, and he sprinted over, dodging swords and claws along the way.  He engaged with the stronger man, sending him careening back with a swift kick to the stomach.  

"Just in time," Bill said.

The two fought side by side, steel ringing, and moments after Will disarmed his man and had him cowering at sword point, Bill ended his own opponent with a deep cut.  He looked over at Will's quarry.

"Go on, finish him."

Will hesitated.  The man gestured wildly, speaking prayers or pleas to them both.

Before Will could react, Bill reached across and slit the man's throat, spilling blood over Will's boots.

"You don't get to choose their fate," Bill said.  "Don't let Jones ever see you pause."

More men poured up from below, these much better armed and prepared than the rest.  Gunshots fired off, and Will surged forward with the rest of the crew, forcing the new arrivals into close combat. 

Will heard Jones' stride and the slash of steel behind him.  He turned to see Jones intercepting a wounded man who had tried to throw himself at Will.  Jones broke the man's neck with a snap of his claw.

Will engaged two men at once, his years of sword training holding true.  In minutes, he ended both with quick, merciful cuts.  He felt the approving eye of Jones upon him and pivoted to assist Angler in subduing the French captain.

The French captain's whole crew lay dead around him, and he stared up at the misshapen beasts who now weighed his destiny.  Jones pushed through to stand above him, and didn't speak for a time, seeming to savor the moment.  Will realized that this must be why Jones didn't always use the Krakenbloodsport fueled the captain and crew in a way nothing else could.

Jones leaned down toward the man's face and spoke softly.

"Your last words?"

The other captain sputtered in English.  "Please forgive my sins."

Jones drew back with a scoff.  "For once, I'd like to hear something I haven't heard before."  He jerked his head at Maccus, who shot a single bullet through the man's head.  The French captain folded to the deck, his legacy ended.

Jones stalked through the ship, pondering the wreckage.  The crew scattered, some scouring the hold for goods, others picking through dead pockets.  Bill and a few others prepared the rigging for transfer of any large items, and Will stood by and watched.  

He thought of his father’s suggestion from before.  The longboats had gone untouched, but it was still light out: they’d arrived much faster than he anticipated, with the fight over in almost an instant.  He’d have to wait for a battle in the night and slip away during the chaos.  And that would only be, of course, after he obtained the key.

Jones made his way back across the deck, and Will found himself standing awkwardly beside the captain, surveying the crew's looting.  Jones finally spoke.  

"I trust the powder room was comfortable enough for you?"

Will crossed his arms and cleared his throat.  "Yes, yes it was."


The two watched as Ogilvey dropped a crate on Clanker's foot.  Clanker swore, and he threw a full weighted punch at Ogilvey's wooden shoulder with a loud knock .  Ogilvey trembled and muttered apologies.

"Before one takes command of another ship," Jones began, startling Will, "it is a great boon to have responsibility lifted from you."

Will blinked.  Jones went on.  "I find that being freed from power provides a certain…clarity before a fight." 

Oh.  Will swallowed.  "Right."

Jones looked him up and down, and Will finally met his gaze.  Jones spoke plainly.

"When it is not before a fight, I will call for you." 

Will stared, his body suddenly very warm.  Jones smirked and strode back toward the Dutchman, kicking a stray pistol out of his way.



It was twilight when the Dutchman pulled away from the looted wreck.  They left the empty and bloodied vessel there as a warning, should anyone pass by who doubted that Davy Jones sailed those waters.

The crew were enjoying the spoils of their victory, those who could still eat munching on fresh provisions, with plenty of drink to go around.  

Will finally had a chance to see the new recruits up close after they'd gone under.  They were lined up before the dice table, where Crash had laid out a cloth with needles and several inkwells.  He was holding a match to one needle, turning it slowly in his fingers.

The first recruit sat down and provided his arm, his expression not scared, but proudaffirmed.  Will saw that his skin had changed, taking on a greener tinge with thin blue veins snaking down from his neck.  Crash made the first poke and the crew let out a raucous cheer.  

Someone tapped Will's arm, and he turned to see his father there with a cup.  "Drink?" Bill asked.

Will's stomach lurched.  "Not for a while."

Bill laughed and passed off the cup to another mate.  "I know the feeling.  Give it a week."

They watched the initiation unfold, and finally the recruit stood, brandishing his new tattoo.  It was a simple trident, smaller than a piece of eight.  Maccus approached and gave the man a full cup of drink, which he downed in a single gulp.

The now full-fledged crewmate pumped his fist in the air, and the crowd pounded the deck with their feet, whooping.

"Fairly tame considering everything else that happens here," Will remarked.  Bill nodded.

"When pain and suffering is ordinary, you have to do something kind to be memorable."  He paused.  "Oh, but the cup is filled with blood from the defeated crew."

Will choked.  " Blood?"

Bill shrugged.  "Catholics do it."

The newly tattooed crewmate passed by Will, and for the first time Will saw thin horizontal slivers along his neck.  Will pictured it then: the recruits tied to the mast, water filling their mouths, thrashing, until their bodies took on the sea and gills fluttered open on their necks.

"I don't think I could ever go through that," Will said, gesturing to his own neck.  

"Oh, that," Bill chuckled.  "Bit of a relief for me after spending all those years stuck at the bottom of the sea.  Ask any man to go through what I did and not sell his soul for gills.  You know," Bill went on, "not many people know this, but there's worms that live down there.  I'll tell you, one time…"

Will's thoughts wandered as his father rambled on.  He watched the crew's celebrations, this time sober, his mind considerably more at ease.  He glanced over at the door to Jones' cabin, and was suddenly surprised to see it ajar.  

Will peered through the crowd, wondering if Jones had decided to watch the initiationbut instead, he felt a hand on the small of his back.  Jones leaned down, breath cool in his ear, his voice low.

"You're needed."



What followed was a blurWill didn’t register the eyes of the whole crew pinned on him as he and Jones made for the captain’s cabin.  He didn’t notice the sideways nudges, the smirks, the low whistles, nor the newly initiated passing glances between themselves in the silent question of when they would be next.

Penrod appeared beside Clanker, confused.  “What’s all this?”

“Pretty boy’s going in for another round,” Clanker said.  “Never seen the captain take anybody on that fast.”

Ogilvey hummed.  “I think he’s got nice legs.”

The door shut behind them.  Will’s whole body tingled, and he struggled to remain nonchalant.  He assumed there would be some kind of prelude, a pause for explanationbut Jones didn’t waste a breath.  

Jones’ body encircled Will’s, pushing him back up against the wall beside the door.  Will let out a gasp as Jones’ many tendrils fell upon his skinpulling, puckering, snaking through his hair and drawing out soft, self-aware moans.  Jones’ hand dropped down to Will’s trousers and felt him there.

“You’re quite eager, now,” Jones remarked.

He freed Will’s member and gripped it in his remaining fingers as Will groaned, struggling to remain present.  Jones allowed the long tentacle to venture down farther, studying Will’s face.  Will thrust against Jones’ hand impatiently, and Jones pushed him back against the wall, forcing him to remain still.  He found Will’s opening.  Slowly, the tip of the tentacle entered, and Will’s face contorted in discomfort. 

“Stop, stop,” Will gasped.

Jones withdrew, his brows furrowed.  His body separated from Will’s, tendrils curling back against his own chest, though his giant claw remained stuck into the wall beside Will’s head.  He regarded Will with suspicion.

“Have you ever lain with a man?” Jones asked.

Will’s face burned red.  “No.”

Jones snorted.  “English…”  He wrested his claw from the wall and leaned back, surveying Will from his full height.  “Do you truly wish for this?  Or are you here, yet again, in an effort to prove your worth?”

Will didn’t speak for a time.  Jones scoffed.  “What I did was hardly anything.  You’re incapable of weathering more.”

“I want to prove that I’m strong enough,” Will blurted out.  Jones cocked his head, and he suddenly let out a harsh laugh.

To whom? ” Jones asked.  “To the crew?  They are cruel and simple men like all others who will find no shortage of reason to mock you.”  His eyes passed over Will’s fragile arms.  “And you need not come to this room to prove anything to me.  What happens here has no bearing on my opinion of any man nor his value to the ship.”  He glared down at Will.  “So who’s left, then?”

Will clenched his jaw.  To his own frustration, Jones’ derision had not quelled his arousal.  Jones continued.  “If what you seek here is to prove your own worth to yourself, I cannot provide that.”

Jones’ words were distant.  Will wanted Jones to release him, to be taken in his hand again.  Jones looked down between Will’s thighs.

“I’m sure you can find another crewmate to assist you.  Or, perhaps, the powder room.”

Jones began to turn away, but Will reached out and took his arm.  “Go slowly,” Will begged.  Jones shook Will’s hand free.

“If you have nothing to anchor you besides a fleeting notion of your own relevance, you will not last.”

Will bit his lip, anger welling up.  “I have my fiance, Elizabeth.  Each day I survive aboard this ship is a day closer to seeing her.”

Jones snorted.  “I’ve never taken a man on this ship who walked out, still thinking of a woman.”  

“And I aim to free my father, whatever it takes,” Will spat.

“Ah,” Jones huffed.  “Your unending filial duty, and why I nearly killed you before.”  He paused.  A thought occurred to him, and he looked down.  “Though, now that you’ve mentioned it…”

One of his beard’s tendrils descended beneath the others, fishing around his own neck.  Will heard the clink of iron and his heart jumped into his throat, and Jones drew out the hidden key.  It was now looped through a leather string, upon which were several pieces of eight, holes bored through them.  

“For safekeeping,” Jones said, “after your last failed attempt.”  He shook the key, making a sound like a wind chime.  Will was frozen, his eyes pinned on the key.  Jones raised an eyebrow and took Will’s chin in his hand, directing his gaze back up to his eyes.  

“Do I have you now?” Jones asked.  Will nodded into his hand, his cheeks flushed.

Jones began lowering himself to his knees, and Will’s vision blurred, his heart echoing in his ears.  But whatever he had expected, it didn’t comeusing his tendrils with shocking dexterity, Jones instead took the keystring and tied it around Will’s erect cock.  

Will stared in utter confusion as Jones stood, cricking his neck.  “Turn,” Jones commanded. 

Will obeyed, and Jones reached around, taking him once more in his hand.  He leaned into Will, pressing him to the wall, his voice over his shoulder.

“If you remain hard and do not come before me,” Jones said, “the key will stay where it is.  It is yours to walk away with.”

Jones slid his hand down Will’s shaft.  The string jingled faintly, and Will’s eyes closed, body tense.  Jones stroked once again, this time harder, with a sound like coins spilling from a purse.  Will moaned out loud, and Jones’ tentacle began searching its way around his thighs.

“I will not stop until you say key ,” Jones said.  The tip of the tentacle entered, and Will braced himself, his legs shaking, but he did not speak.  His cock throbbed, bound tight by the string, key and trinkets dangling below.  Jones worked his way slowly into Will, massaging him with his fingers and prying deeper, as his beard wrapped around Will’s face behind.  One of the thicker tendrils wandered into Will’s mouth, and Will gasped, feeling the slippery texture prod against the inside of his cheek.  It did not venture any farther than that, the suckers seeming to relish the taste of his tongue.

Jones’ tentacle flexed inside Will, and he rode through the discomfort, feeling sparks of pleasure mingled between.  He bit down hard on his lip, trying not to say a single word.  

The tentacle withdrew, and Will heard the sound of clothes being undone.  He peeked back over his shoulder to see Jones’ cock exposed in the lightand with immense relief he saw its surface had not been claimed by barnacles.  It looked to be the same texture of the rest of Jones’ skin, though measurably larger than Will’s own.

Jones continued stroking Will, easing his body forward.  His tip made to enter, but Will’s legs faltered with nothing to brace against.   Jones sniffed in annoyance.

“I forget you’re still unsworn.”

Will blinked.  Did the crew meld their limbs to the floor and walls to brace against Jones’ force?  Before Will could ask, Jones lifted him like a dog, carried him to the bed, and dropped him there, face up.  He slid over Will with surprising fluidity and hoisted Will’s legs up over his shoulders, taking his cock again in one hand.  His great claw clamped onto the overhang, and Jones pushed himself inside Will’s waiting body. 

Will’s back arched, his legs spasming from the sensation.  The responding chime of the key and coins reminded him of his purpose there, and bade him wait.  Jones thrust again, and Will’s eyes tightened in faintly blooming pleasure.  There was a certain way Jones moved, when he thrust into him at that angle, that began to nurture a new ecstasy.

All thoughts left his mind as Jones plowed into him, the captain’s own pleasure growing too.  He continued pumping Will’s cock, and had Will weighed his goal rationally he would have removed Jones’ hand to allow him to last longer.  But his body moved of its own accord, and with each thrust he was forced harder into Jones’ hand, caught between two inescapable pleasures.  Jones stroked him harder, grip tightening, and Will let out a crying moan.  The key continued to jingle.

Will’s body writhed on the bed, fists clenched tight around the bundled sheets.  He brought a fistful of cloth to his mouth and bit into it, his whole face strained.  Jones gave a breathless sound of amusement.  

It was too muchWill’s jaw turned white around the cloth.  He let out a prolonged cry as Jones brought him to his peak and sent him over.  Will lurched against Jones’ hand, spilling onto his own body.  Jones still pumped into him, but slower now, drawing his orgasm out.  Every thrust brought another soft jingle and another painful twitch of Will’s spent cock.  Jones finally relented, pulling slowly out of Will, who felt very much like a gutted fish.

Jones examined Will’s now limp cock.  Will watched helplessly as he reached down and slid the key string easily off.  Jones shook it once before handing it off to a tendril that buried it deep within his beard.

“A bit too soon,” Jones said.  Jones pivoted off the bed, his lower half still bare.  He fished Will’s trousers off the floor and threw them behind him.  “Tell Ogilvey I’m waiting.”

Will replaced his trousers with shaking hands, his body burning.  He stood, achingly, and walked as naturally as he could to the door.  He stopped to lean heavily against the door frame.  He looked back at Jones, who was seated at the edge of the bed, his unnatural cock still hard.  

Jones caught Will staring.  “Test yourself another time,” he said, and he laughed Will out of the room.