fanfic -- PotC -- Bedtime
Summary: Jack helps Will relax.
Author's Notes: Written when I was sleepy and sore. Established relationship.
Pairing: Jack Sparrow / Will Turner
Rating: NC-17
Bedtime
The hammer rang out against reddened steel, the thin blade vibrating harshly and the anvil echoing in the tiny room. Will paused, studying his work, and finally turned the thing. Satisfied with both sides, he dropped the hammer into its place and quenched the steel. That was all he'd do for the night, though the first sword he'd forged since escaping to sea was far from done.
The night air chilled him as he left the hot enclosure, and he hurried to Jack's cabin. His captain was bent over a table charts, occasionally checking a worn ship's log he held in one hand, then making tiny and indecipherable marks with the stub of lead he'd commandeered as a pencil. A distracted nod served as greeting, and he smiled as he crossed the room.
“Planning another mad quest for us?” he teased. Black eyes focused on him with mild offence.
“Not mad,” Sparrow reproached. Rolling his eyes, he splashed some water into the basin.
“No?” He paused to gratefully wash the sweat from his face. “So this will have no cursed pirates, no sea-serpents, no mysterious deaths, and, if I dare recall it, a dearth of wives?”
Jack snickered.
“None of that, Lad, I promise.”
He snorted, recalling that same oath being given many a time before. It had never stopped Jack's ventures from straying into affairs best left alone - but, despite his complaints and however much it exasperated him, he rarely minded by the end.
Shaking his head to clear the memories of past adventures from it, he walked over and took the book from his Sparrow's hand. Carefully, he locked it in the cabinet, then did the same with pencil and maps. The older pirate watched him with a half-smile.
“Come to bed, Jack. You can tell me all about this grand escapade in the morning.
“Now there's a phrase I love,” his captain declared.
He froze at the wicked glint in his lover's face. Jack smirked, advancing on him, and he backed into a wall. His pirate's arms came around his waist, warm and sure, and two calloused hands spread over his back. He melted, heat trickling though muscles he hadn't even realized were sore.
“Mmm... Don't stop,” he begged softly.
“Never, Will. I'll never stop,” his buccaneer muttered, pressing a slow line of kisses to his neck. The clever hands wandered over his flesh, rubbing under his shirt as Jack's mouth came up to explore his. He moaned into the kiss, exhaustion pushing him into helplessness far too soon.
“Love the way you touch me,” he murmured distractedly. “Nobody else...”
“Aye, Luv.”
Rough stubble passed over his skin, following lips that were wandering along his collarbone. He felt his shirt tumble from him, linen broadcloth coming to rest behind his feet. His own hands worked lazily over his lover, tugging buttons from their holes and fleeing up to flicker over the sensitive skin behind his ear.
“Kit off and lay on the bed, Sweet William,” the captain ordered gently. He whimpered but let his eyes open, blinking in the candlelight. Sparrow was already disentangling them, mincing to the chest of drawers, and he stripped himself quickly. He floated over to the wide cot and clambered on, face down in the nest of pillows and blankets they'd collected.
“Tired?” The tenor voice asked, a touch concerned but mostly amused.
“Yes.” The mattress dipped beside him and he padded his head on his arms, enjoying the lazy pleasure of stretching out. “I'd almost forgotten how heavy everything feels after a few hours.”
Jack hummed.
“Enjoyed it?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
Gentle hands, lightly dipped in moroccan oil, smoothed over his back. He gasped, and his lover shifted to straddle him. Bare thighs bracketed his hips as sure strokes eased all pain away.
Then the massage turned sensual. Quick, unexpected kisses landed in random patterns over his flesh. A clever touch traced a star at the base of his neck, then curling flourishes down his spine. He pressed up into the touch, moaning as that wicked, wonderful tongue licked around his entrance, teasing the sensitive flesh.
“Jack!”
He felt, rather than heard, Jack's chuckle, then there was something warm and wet and sinfully talented working its way inside him, and it was all he could do to clench the sheets and try not to buck his lover off. A hard pressure against the back of his leg told him the pirate was seeking his own completion and he mewled softly, squeezing his eyes shot. So suddenly he wasn't sure it hadn't been happening all along, the pleasure washed up in a hot wave, swamping over him, covering him and dragging him into blackness.
Panting softly, Jack lifted his head and had to grin. His Will was out cold, the long day exhausting him and his climax pushing him off the pier into Morpheus' ocean. Smirking at the thought that he'd not only kept up with his younger love but outmatched him, he peeled himself off the bed. The water in the basin was warm, and he dipped a convenient rag into it then trotted back over. William twitched but did not waken, so he settled down beside him. A carelessly thrown arm landed on his mate and a carefully tugged blanket covered them.
It occurred to him that Will was doubtless lying in a wet spot. He considered waking the lad to move him, but the deed would garner no thanks, and, well...
Pirate, Luv.