He really was an exquisite piece of work, lean, muscular and firm. He seemed to simultaneously posses the face of an angel and the eyes of a hawk. For a moment I simply wanted to take him there by force, to lose myself in a moment of ecstasy, his wishes be damned. I knew it would have to be by force, for there was no possible way this boy had ever dipped his feather in another mans ink. His virginity was almost painfully obvious. No experienced man would have his rigidness, his righteousness, his innocence. He came near me, causing his scent to drift up. I could swear the boy was in heat, all sweaty and reeking of testosterone. My legs nearly went weak at the thought.
Damn the morals that plagued me then. The sudden rush of a conscience that had been all to nonexistent previously. I should have taken him there by force and been done with it. Leave the boy unconscious on the floor when I finished, make my escape through a window. It had to have been my sudden rectitude that kept me there, that kept me fighting. God forbid Captain Jack Sparrow, actually be caught off guard by a pretty face. God forbid Captain Jack Sparrow waste time on a pointless sword-fight, caught up in the sheer sexuality of it, enraptured with the thrust and parry, the witty banter, dripping with testosterone as we each tried to prove ourselves superior to the other.
The boy never had a chance of course, no one will ever be superior to Captain Jack Sparrow, but I admit he was a talented individual. A dreadfully narrow minded boy, but talented nonetheless. Thank God I was fighting him and no one else. Any pirate would have skewered him in an instant, leaving him to bleed to death, screaming nonsense about rules and the like. As if there were rules to a sword-fight.
It had to have been righteousness that kept me from killing the lad, shooting him straight out. God forbid Captain Jack Sparrow be distracted so easily, God forbid his thoughts be trapped in the gutter, God forbid he wish only for one thing at that moment. I couldn't kill this boy. A damned inconvenient sense of morality was to blame for my capture. Morality, not love. Captain Jack Sparrow never falls in love, not after the Black Pearl.
At that point I don't believe I was fooling anyone but myself.
Damn the morals that plagued me then. The sudden rush of a conscience that had been all to nonexistent previously. I should have taken him there by force and been done with it. Leave the boy unconscious on the floor when I finished, make my escape through a window. It had to have been my sudden rectitude that kept me there, that kept me fighting. God forbid Captain Jack Sparrow, actually be caught off guard by a pretty face. God forbid Captain Jack Sparrow waste time on a pointless sword-fight, caught up in the sheer sexuality of it, enraptured with the thrust and parry, the witty banter, dripping with testosterone as we each tried to prove ourselves superior to the other.
The boy never had a chance of course, no one will ever be superior to Captain Jack Sparrow, but I admit he was a talented individual. A dreadfully narrow minded boy, but talented nonetheless. Thank God I was fighting him and no one else. Any pirate would have skewered him in an instant, leaving him to bleed to death, screaming nonsense about rules and the like. As if there were rules to a sword-fight.
It had to have been righteousness that kept me from killing the lad, shooting him straight out. God forbid Captain Jack Sparrow be distracted so easily, God forbid his thoughts be trapped in the gutter, God forbid he wish only for one thing at that moment. I couldn't kill this boy. A damned inconvenient sense of morality was to blame for my capture. Morality, not love. Captain Jack Sparrow never falls in love, not after the Black Pearl.
At that point I don't believe I was fooling anyone but myself.