The black and gray, hanging, heavy layers upon layers of clouds promised a certain disaster ahead, the hell-blue billows up above pouring down rain on the deck of the Black Pearl, turning the wooden surface as slick as ice, causing even the most cautious of sailors to whisk around in the encompassing wings of the growing wind like autumn leaves in a hailstorm.
Will, fastening a line, bringing in sails with the best of them, stood soaked, flabbergasted, when he saw the Captain approach with a sheet of tarpaulin, covering his shivering mate, wrapping him in his arms to steer him away, and to Will's astonishment, the helm of the Pearl.
"'S as good a time as ever!" Jack's words fell flat, dulled by the wind, half of them vanishing like raintears in the gale as they dropped off his lips. "She says it's about time."
Maneuvering the man in front of him, Jack ducked under the tarred cloth, gathering Will's hand into his own and planting them on the spokes of the wheel.
"Listen to her William." Suddenly, Jack's voice sounded clearly, albeit it being no more than a whisper.
The first strikes of flaming lightning shot through the skies in the distance, the flash running static through Will's presence, his hands curving over the dark, silky wood like he was born at the helm of the black ship, her curves under his hand like a lover's, pliant, questioning, willing to please.
Their lover, behind him, did not let go his hold.
An arm around Will's waist to guide him, holding their cover, Jack pressed against Will's back, hard, aroused, thrilled to the core, his tone the shade of the ocean roiling around them, as he tightened his hand over Will's, tender, a caress; "To have you both like this…"