Of Duels and Death

by SavvyNBrash

Will and Jack get to talking after.. uh.. passionate intertwining.

Title: Of Duels and Death
Author: Frost AND Kacey
Rating: PG-13 (for sexual implications)
Summary: Will and Jack get to talking after.. uh.. passionate intertwining.
Disclaimer: Don't own it. If we did, we'd be rich. And we would have made Will even slashier—but we also would have never let him wear that hat.
Archive: O_O Yes..! Tell us first, though.
Authors notes: This fic is affectionately called "Random Word Sandwich". Don't ask why. Anyway, it's done in RP format, because. Uh. We like Rping. And we wanted to share it, too. So there. Oh yeah. Jack is played by Frost, and Will by Kacey.

~ William Turner~

There's always one most comfortable position to sink into after your nightly (sometimes two or three times nightly) session of tumbling around the bed, flattening the center of a mattress until it can never take its correct shape again - after a battle like this, William Turner would stretch languorously between the legs of his opponent, hard stomach weighted down against lover's groin, with long arms, sinewy from a life of hard labor, folded over lover's chest. His chin, brushed with inky bristle, rested on tan abdomen, still slick with sweat from their exertion, still panting, unwinding from a climax. Eyes lidded and subdued with satisfaction, climbing to reach lover's angled, mischievously dark face. And then the boy would purr, fingers skating the dampness that pooled between his Captain's muscles, the faint echo of quiver still passing through them. "Jack?"

~Jack Sparrow~

"Mm?" Was the only answer that William would receive in vocal terms. His own chest was still moving up and down exaggeratedly, as he tried to reclaim his breath. The sultry pirate captains' arm rose to play through Will's dark curls-slightly wet with sweat. He pressed the boy's head down, claiming a soft and quick kiss on his lips before parting again. A loving sort of gesture. Nothing he was afraid to admit anymore. It'd been something close to a year now, that they'd been together. The Captain had no complaints, as of yet, either. He smiled lazily to himself, still pleased over his prize. Other arm snaked up to wrap around the blacksmith-turned-pirate's waist.

Why did he always end up on the bottom after sex? By choice, mostly. It was more comfortable on the bed than it was on top of a lover--no matter how much he liked the man--and so he was greedy enough to take the spot. William didn't seem to mind.

Kohl lined eyes of near obsidian cracked open a little to gaze at the man's face--oh so near to his own. He had a question. Jack always knew when Will had a question. His eyebrows raised ever-so-slightly, and his mouth got this little -line- near it. Not a conscious thing, it seemed, anymore, but Jack had a seeming suspicion that Will usually got nervous when he was about to ask something, as if the person receiving the question would be angry with it. Turner wasn't nervous around Jack. It just seemed to be a trait that'd stuck through the years. Jack raised his own eyebrows inquisitively.

~ William Turner~

His narrow hips were agreeably captured by that familiar arm, colliding and deliciously dragging against another set of narrow hips, each rock and gentle tug of the Pearl's movement bringing them together, scraping slick heated flesh against his partner with fluid grace. Will was indeed pensive, if his brow wasn't knit to reveal this, the hesitation in his voice breathed of cautious curiosity. "What was it like," wisps of air fanning the inviting space between Jack's parted mouth. Will registered the faint taste of himself and brine of salt on those open, bitten lips of Sparrow. His fingers were exploring each rivet of scar, and swell of curve riding up from the man's chest (dancing over -equally as bitten- flat nipple) to the column of his throat, where those fingers were caught in the woven and rolled mane of bead ornamented hair. Will seemed to have something at the edge of his tongue, but it'd fallen short. The rest of the question was not asked. Droopy, bedroom eyes studying Jack's to find an answer.

~Jack Sparrow~

A quick grin tugged at Jack's lips, showing off teeth of white and gold. He pressed his hand more firmly against Will's waist and nipped softly at his jaw line. "I rather liked it myself. I don't think I've had better all week, act'ally." Which was the truth, really. Will had preformed excellently on this night--Jack had a mind to ask what it was that the boy -wanted-. Yes. He had been that good.

Nose and closed mouth nuzzled contentedly against the side of William's jaw, dropping down near his neck. Jack absently decided (for maybe the millionth time) that he liked Will's hair. It was the perfect length and thickness, not to mention nice to look at and touch. Jack couldn't remember ever having been so obsessive with any woman's hair. Then again, Jack couldn't remember being obsessive with any -woman- in general, so he supposed that it made sense. And then he paused in mid-motion (hand had been stroking the small of Will's back in calk yet suggestive sort of manner). "Why? Wasn't I good?" Suspicion caught in his voice, and eyes narrowed ever so slightly. All feigned, of course, but he wouldn't let Will know this.

~ William Turner~

Will's mouth gathered into a silent 'oh' of perplexity, upon realizing his folly. He had not been referring to their most recent bout of coupling and after a brief pause of basking in Jack's enthusiastic response (a smug, elfish crack of Turner grin), Will went about to pose his inquiry more correctly. "No - I mean, yes." Stumbling on his tongue, he paused to recollect his train of thought, Jack's caresses never failed to distract him somewhat from coherency, even after all this time, growing comfortable with each other, around and in each other. His palm smoothed over Jack's cheek, thumb hooking under the braided chin and scraping affectionately with the nail over a ring of red marks on the tan throat. Lips nuzzled into their wind chapped counterparts, an apologetic tongue dipped and favored Jack's canine tooth with a stroke. "You were indeed." Reassuring those hauntingly night pools of the man's eyes. With more confidence this time around, hoping that would cure his own problem, Turner questioned once more. "What I meant to ask - have been wondering recently, I suppose - What was it like..." Breathy. "To die, Jack?" Will would never shake that image of his captain, bedmate, partner - a hollow shell of skeleton - a lifeless creature.

~Jack Sparrow~

Jack's fingers had resumed their stroking as soon as Will had reassured his libido's ego. Ringed and slender digits tickled over the small expanse of the man's waist with expert movements. Even after that breathy question, Jack went on moving those fingers. His eyes closed and he looked content still, as if he hadn't heard the question at all. He took a small breath and then leaned up to kiss the blacksmiths' lips once more--relishing the taste and feel of them. After pulling away, he lay still--head comfortably fixed on the pillow--for more than a few minutes. Poor William would probably be left to wonder if his Captain had fallen asleep. But no, he hadn't. Contented look eventually fell away from his face, mouth turning to a straight line of a serious nature. One eye opened slightly--lazily--to gaze upon his young lover. "The blade, going in," he recalled, with a note of detachment, "hurt. I hadn't expected it to," His eye closed again, leaving him peaceful looking beneath Will. "But not in the -physically- painful sort of way. Not exactly."

His stroking hands stilled, finally, just resting atop Will's back. It was hard to put to words what exactly it had felt like. Jack remembered it sometimes, in his dreams--nightmares--many feelings rushing to be uncovered all at once; none being allowed. He hadn't the time for it then. Interesting, he had said. That was all. But it hadn't been what he wanted to say. On nights when he remembered, he thanked whatever powers there were that Will was around--to cling to. The boy didn't question him in times like that, not in the middle of the night, or when they woke up. Jack Sparrow was grateful.

~ William Turner~

The youth was honestly giving it his effort to try and comprehend the magnitude of Jack's experience with becoming undead. But his pained eyes revealed that ignorance - that lack of understanding - unable to imagine lifelessness, that limbo between existing and emptiness. Searching the face of that fiend pirate his world was happily centered around, Will attempted to capture some sense of the depth beneath Jack's confession. A wince heavily lidded his eyes, for he did not need to see to find any part of the man's body, having the uncanny skill for that after thorough and frequent practice in dark places, snuck away together into random unlit corners of taverns, caverns and even a brig, the boy recalled with a inner hint of amusement that could not emerge now from his current seriousness.

"Were you frightened?" Such an absurd question to ask a pirate, but to ask a lover - that was quite different. His Captain would not lie to him, or so a trusting William believed, not about this. After all, there was plenty to fear. Dying without the guarantee of life returned, the risk of being doomed to curse just the same as a horribly damned pirate crew had been, for ten years, had Jack pondered in that lapse of time, if he would feel nothing for an equal ten years? Forever? Don't be forgetting, the curse was for eternity if not lifted, immortality without any fulfillment.

~Jack Sparrow~

Jack sighed then, reopening his both his eyes to gaze at the equally dark eyes of William. "I died, William." he said plainly. "I died. A blade was stuck through me chest--" his hand wandered from Will's back to touch at the spot where the blade had went through. There was no scar there, but he knew exactly where it was--he would never forget. "Except I didn't -feel- it. Not like you feel it when you slice through skin. It was painful to th' mind. I thought I felt it. I expected to fall back to the ground, bleeding away my life and soul." He seemed to be evading the question that Will had set out before him, and so he silently berated himself. The boy was curious, and there was no denying him at times like these. Damn his insatiable curiosity.

"Aye," a nod of his head. "I was scared. It was a bold move to steal the Aztec gold," he admitted this bit with a wrinkle of his nose--trying to keep his mood light in so morbid a conversation. "Too many variables. What if Elizabeth Swann died, and you no longer cared? I had half a mind to think that you'd leave without lifting the curse." Jack no longer thought such things, but small fears like that crept into his dreams at night. He laughed then and pressed a kiss to William's neck--as if to reassure himself that he could still truly -feel- it. "Leave me cursed with the rest of them..."

~ William Turner~

Head bowed, shifting to angle their faces again, Will's nose, sharper than Jack's boyishly smooth sloped one, pushes aside the twists of raven hair that are adhering to the man's temples with their accumulated sweat, using his nose affectionately because of hand preoccupied in mapping the complex shape of Sparrow, gradually drawing in on their favorite place to rest, the domain of flesh above Jack's thighs, over sharp jut of hip, tracing circles with his thumb that he had already drawn earlier with tongue, and now, prompted by the response to his wonderings, Will pinched. Their faces aligned now in such a way that he could press his lips soothingly over his lovers' shielded eyes, coaxing the lids with the warmth of a lingering kiss.

He spoke comfortably, mouthing against that sensitive skin. Admonishing. "You truly believed that, didn't you?" There was an underscore of "tsk tsk" to his tone, unspoken. "I was not sure why at the time - but so I was as well. Afraid. Lost to you. By death." Will had known even then, in such a far distant, yet powerful, memory - that to loose Jack was unacceptable.

~Jack Sparrow~

"Sure had a funny way of showing it, love," Jack murmured, eyes half closing. More out of laziness than sleepiness. "Elizabeth goes free!" "...Anything else?" "The crew! The crew is to be unharmed!" And what of Jack? The poor drunk of a Captain seemed to recall pointing frantically at himself, with no results. Alas. Perhaps William had been in the sun too long on that day.

"But..." Jack sighed then, arms moving to re-circle William's waist. "It was still quite the fright." It was odd to admit fear. Jack was a man who laughed at things in his life that most men would piss their pants over. Hanging? That was nothing (or so he pretended). Being stranded on an island? Nothing he couldn't handle--with the help of a few sea turtles anyway. Legs moved to edge in-between William's--Jack enjoyed the warmth there, he always had, and he went on. "Not feeling, at all? It was...." he paused, as if trying to put it to words. Fingers grazed lightly over Will's back again, seemingly a favorite past time. "Difficult. Utterly foreign." Jack was a man of touch. Always hanging, poking and prodding. He relished it when another so much as put a hand on his arm. He thanked whatever powers there were that he was only in that undead state for a few moments, not long enough to have to worry about touch. Mind recalled viewing his own form--skeletal fingers and ripped cloth. Quite the fright, indeed. The back of his mind attempted to joke. Was he really -that- thin? "Not something I want to do again," He finished.

~ William Turner~

Jack's first comment produced something resembling a groan to erupt playfully up from the youth's throat. "Give a lad some credit - for coming to his senses." Of course, the teasing nature of that groan cascaded into a genuinely more heated version of it, the lift and slither of Jack's repositioned leg exciting more than few nerve endings, heightening the sensation of their skin's sticky texture. Will even bit smartly at the farthest expressive edge of a raven brow - but no verbal comment was made in further regard to that effects of that stimulating touch. What kind of Hell would it be to be without said stimulation? Or numbness? From temperature, from pain, from existing? But, as Jack had just unveiled, there was no numbing of emotion, mentality... He had felt fear, self-loathing at his state, intrigue, or horror? A shudder is felt beneath the fine-boned fingers at his narrow expanse of back.

"I shall be available, Jack, when you do so wish to reaffirm your ability to touch." From a shy boy, carved into a well learned (and flexible, Jack might be proud of) passionate creature, he made suggestive remarks now, with arrow brows canting rakishly sly, that he would've possibly never uttered without the influence of Jack Sparrow, alive. Well.

~Jack Sparrow~

"I know," Jack was cocky enough to know that he'd have Will in the palm of his hand for a long time from now--or perhaps it was the other way around? --and didn't mind saying so. He turned a little in the bed, moving to lie on his side, arms shifting slightly so that they would still be around Turner's waist. No reason to let go of a good thing, right? The pirate nuzzled close then, nose and cheek rubbing affectionately against Will's shoulder blade before his head finally found port on the boy's shoulder.

"But not tonight," he purred out in a sultry tone--very well aware that that was an odd placement for a tone such as that. "M'not as young as I used to be." A lie. Jack may have been the older of the two, but he would remain young as long as there was still adventure and curiosity in him. As well as some rum (and perhaps even Will, the back of his mind laughed crudely). He -was- tired, though. After a long days' worth of plundering and standing on the deck in the sun, even Captain Jack Sparrow couldn't only go through so many rounds of sex without pausing for a bit to sleep. Well, he could...but only if William begged. It usually never got to that point though, because the damned boy would fall asleep after being denied the first time. Jack pouted to himself at this thought.

~ William Turner~

The new positioning invited Turner to another memorably agreeable arrangement, merely smooth his arms beneath Jack's separate the hold from his waist, and stretch sluggishly, content, behind his partner. The front of his body molded to every inch of Jack reachable, but his own feet surpassing the length of the Captain's by a few inches. This was a routine occasionally, for now Will to be the one with arms about companions waist, inescapably. "Are you challenging me? You know what happens when we duel, love." Prickled chin grazes Jack's shoulder to a faint red streak amongst the others, William nuzzling, searching for the spot, smoothing away Sparrow's ocean of braids and knots, finding the spot with svelte lips, at the nape of dark throat. Such a skillful craftsman, having learned long ago to accomplish two things at once, bite here, and swiftly capture blanket hem, sweeping it up and over them both, disappearing under the canopy and into their private battle ground. Will had (and could show you where Jack hid) some impressive war wounds from this very enjoyable type of tournament.

~Jack Sparrow~

Damned spot, Jack seethed even as he let out a small moan. Wonderful spot. Tilting his head back for the boy, he closed his eyes and opened his mouth ever so slightly. Hands moved up from their perch to tug playfully at Will's mane of hair. "I win," Jack teased out breathily, referring to 'what happened when they dueled'. He then attempted to move his head before there was a mark there that would be too large to hide the next day. How the crew of the Pearl hadn't spotted the marks, Jack had never figured out. Must have been all the hair. He hoped. Nipping at Will's lips then, Jack bit at the lower one before sucking on it for a moment. Hips were pressed closer to Will's own, rubbing gently and suggestively.

~ William Turner~

"You cheat," a deep timbre corrected, somehow forming out the words with one lip caught in an appreciated tug of war, noting with some distant fascination that the drawing suction produced a bead of blood - just another dent amongst an abundance of things to hide - but that was the fun part, wasn't it? Catching each other over the desk in the cabin just after the crew departs after being issued duties or sent off into a port for some errand, sometimes having to silence each other with palms over the other's mouth, stifling the shouts, less a stray pirate near by on deck overhear a name. Just another twist of the game – a perk of the fight.

There were no rules, yet Jack always found a way to cheat. And William was always the sore (in an -extremely- good way) looser. Hips rock into the pressing hips, separated mouths provide Will with the chance to bring his to the shell of his pirate's ear, his nose tickled by the rough wisps of Jack's hair sneaking over this spot. "I wont let my guard down so easy, you cant escape this time, hm?"

~Jack Sparrow~

"Pirate," the captain murmured out. It was an age-old debate between the two. Will would accuse Jack of cheating, and then Jack would grin that teasing grin of his and proclaim that the reason for it was his profession.

But wait! Had that been sleep in Jack Sparrows' tone? The captain nuzzled closer to his bedmate, relishing the feeling of the warm body pressed to close to his own. Eyes closed fully then, and his hands--which had been so tense about William's waist a moment before relaxed a tad, fingers keeping their spot there only because of the placement of his arms. A soft breathing pattern replaced previous irregular one in just a minutes' time. What was this about William not letting his Captain escape? Seemed he failed, right after saying so, actually, as the worn captain had fallen asleep right in his grasp. Must not have been the biggest ego booster in the world for the poor blacksmith.

~ William Turner~

Jack's progression into slumber was natural, gradually slipping, until firmly enveloped within unconsciousness. The man's child-like ease for passing out after any particularly exertive session of sex never seemed to upset his young lover as it should. No. Instead, it was seemingly comforting to William, despite his own hopes for another round, if you were thwarted by someone like Jack, defeated, it was easy to accept, you simply loved him that much. There is always the morning, he mused, flattening one palm to Jack's ribs in a cradling gesture, the other twined into the slack digits of the Captain. And Will settled head down, tucked into the sweat and spice flavored throat, murmuring a heavily exhausted yet blissful sigh. "How could I forget?" It was Captain Jack Sparrow, after all.