The Black Pearl had set sail from Tortuga nearly a fortnight ago, and although the sea lay calm and restful beneath the ship, the same could not be said for the crew aboard. Ever since that fateful night together in the boardinghouse, Jack and Will had been avoiding each other like the black plague. If Will were scrubbing the decks, Jack would immediately stumble below. If Jack was at the helm, Will would preoccupy himself with mending the sails. He would rather dangle from that precarious rigging during a tempest with no one to save him than have a face-to-face confrontation with the captain. All he'd see reflected in those liner-smudged eyes was his own humiliation, his pathetic loneliness and hunger for love that drove him into the arms of the last person he'd have expected—or wanted.
Jack was also a bit embarrassed, not so much over the actual incident, but how Will acted around him now—the crew would surely suspect. "Who cares?" he thought. "Let them. I'm still the bloody captain." Jack sighed and settled onto the foot of his bed. Head in hands, he exhaled and took in the sound of the waves crashing on the side of the boat. Jack knew he had to sort things out with Will—he just didn't know how. "Will, I think you've taken me heart with yer kiss," Jack muttered. He sank back onto his bed, knees still hanging off the bed, and slid his hand down his pants to give himself the only pleasure he knew nowadays. A virtual eruption of boundless sexual energy, he came with a gasp and had to catch his breathe before changing his clothes. "Will—I wish you were here…"
Meanwhile, Will preoccupied himself with making sure all of the cannons were in clean, working order. The shiny black guns seemed too phallic to the sexually confused young sailor, and as he scrubbed them down he worked quickly and without hesitation, not wanting anyone to suspect anything…unnatural. He soaked a rag with polish and went to work, so focused on his task that he didn't hear the drunken and familiar stagger of boots on the steps behind him.
"Wow, it seems the ol' Pearl is finally gonna live up to her name."
Will jumped a mile and spun around, clutching his rag like a security blanket. The captain's trousers were partially undone, his shirt was buttoned crookedly and a bottle of rum was clutched in his hand. "I've never seen her shine so much since you joined the crew, William." His free hand reached out to stroke Will's damp and greasy hair, to brush the loose strands that had fallen out of his ponytail away from his face. Will drew back in both disgust and fear, and also at the alarmingly strong stench of alcohol on Jack's breath. He knew Jack had been a heavy drinker his whole life, but he'd never seen him like this. Not even on that godforsaken night in Tortuga.
Jack brusquely pulled Will to his chest by his belt loops and kissed him roughly. Will went stiff with surprise and fright. Admittedly, he was tempted to return the favor, but instead he pushed Jack away Even through the haze of intoxication Jack got the message. Will saw that Jack's eyes were glassy—partly from the alcohol but also likely from the pain of rejection from Will. Will was starting to realize that Jack really cared about him, and he felt awful doing this to him, but he had to. Will turned and left, leaving jack cold despite the flush in his face from the rum. Jack propped himself up against the wall and watched Will, about twenty paces down the corridor, sink down to his knees and weep. Jack wanted to help him, but instead he left him, and began walking swiftly towards his quarters.
Only he never made it there. He didn't hear the frantic footfalls or his name being called due to his drunken stupor, but he couldn't ignore the slender hand wrenching him around. It was Will, sweaty and smudged with cannon polish and tears. His soulful brown eyes bore into Jack, confused and afraid. "Jack, I'm sorry…I'm just not used to—." Jack stopped his lips with a rum-soaked kiss, tongue plunging unto his mouth with the force of a hundred cannons. Will was startled but returned the kiss with just as much fervor, letting his hands explore Jack's dredlocked head, letting himself become tangled up with his fellow pirate. When the kiss finally broke Jack was grinning devilishly, gold teeth glinted in the torchlight of the hallway. "Did that help you get used to the idea?" Jack whispered. Will responded by slamming him against the wall, fragile boards splintering from the pressure, before proceeding to kiss Jack with the same desperation that he had that night in Tortuga. His hands ripped Jack's flimsy shirt open, buttons bouncing everywhere. Will's feverish lips then trailed kisses down Jack's taut chest and stomach. Jack gasped with pleasure. Clearly, the young man was finally accepting the situation.
All of a sudden, Will felt his wrists being shackled to a pair of cuffs hanging from a hook on the wall. Jack's Cheshire cat grin almost glowed, and Will could feel his member stiffening painfully fast. Jack pulled the cuffs off the wall and hooked them onto the cannon. Will was now chained to a cannon, to his great surprise, and looking up and the sparkling eyes of the most beautiful pirate in the world. Jack disappeared for a moment, and re-appeared brandishing a cat o' nine tails. "Turn over luv—this might sting a bit."