Title: Of Blindness and Vision: Day Two (of three)
Author: Frost AND Kacey
Rating: PG-13 (for language—for now.)
Summary: Jack gets injured, and Will has to play nurse-maid. Or at least try.
Disclaimer: Don't own it. But we do own this story. So take THAT.
Archive: O_O Yes..! Tell us first, though.
Authors notes: This is a response to the plot bunny illness challenge given by glitterundine@yahoo.com. It is affectionately called "Pity Jack Please Will". You'll see why.
Uh, anyway, this is actually a part of our "Of…" series, which is ongoing and being spewed out in no particular order. Enjoy!
Oh yeah. Jack is played by Frost, and Will by Kacey.
Day Two:
- - - Jack - - -:
It was hot, he decided--hot and painful--and in a bad way. So hot it was cold. So maybe, it was actually cold...? Captain Jack Sparrow was still lying on his stomach, in the odd position he'd dropped into the night before. He'd fell back into the depths of unconsciousness once Will had left, and if the boy had ever come back, Jack wasn't aware of it in the least. A small moan escaped trembling lips and he pushed himself painfully back up to a sitting position. It took more than a moment, much to his chagrin. The darkness of his surroundings was also painful--the captain of the ship had someone willed himself to believe it had all been a bad dream somewhere in the middle of the night, and had had a firm belief that his vision would be as good as ever when morning came. It was not better. It was black, and had he been another man, he may have just sobbed at the realization. Instead, he decided he really just wanted to drink his pain and worries away. "William?" He called out softly--wondering if perhaps the boy was still in the room. Upon hearing no response in a few moments time, he decided that the room must have been empty. So, with a wince, he sat up--fingers trembling on their hand holds of the bed, and arms twitching at the effort it took to get to the position. More work yet, was his attempt to stand. Legs had been unused for days, and weakened with fever and burn didn't hold up all too well on the first try, as he pushed away from the bed, and he was sent crashing down to the cool wooden boarded floor.
- - - William - - -:
William had needed a day to restore his bold, self-assured, complacency. With his normal composure intact, the thought of getting back to Jack's aide was no longer something to be wary of. The night before had been a sad product of his exhaustion and last remnants of his fear that Jack might not even be as lucky as to wake again. Indeed, he had awoken, to a hellish nightmare, Will was sure, but at least life still coursed his veins, at least that life allowed for the chance of recovery, of returning to his former self. Armed with these new confidences, Turner gathered up what he would need to re-bandage the Captain, re treat, and finally, he hoped, force the stubborn fool of a criminal pirate to eat food. If Will failed again today, the skeletal one was in risk of just wilting away. Ha. Will wouldn't let Jack be so lucky, if Jack was determined on refusing food, the wily Blacksmith would employ other tactics. Indeed, a flask of aromatic that toxic alcohol, Caribbean Rum, was lassoed to his belt's tie (Possibly to be used as an incentive if Jack wanted to act up). He had reached the cabins' door when the awkward thump echoed painfully beyond the panel of the wooden portal. The sound pitched the boy's adrenaline a notch, imagining fifty horrid things that could've happened to Jack with that noise. Swiftly getting in to witness the spectacle - he deposited the food on Jack's desk under the window and stooped down to somehow get Jack. Briefly Turner realized that his grand Captain wouldn't be battling in any wars with him anytime soon. He groaned. "Come on, Jack. Up you come."
- - - Jack - - -:
Jack-- both dazed, slightly delirious and embarrassed at the fall let out something of an unintelligible mumble as he allowed himself to be pulled upward into a mostly standing position. "William?" He swayed and trembled in the hands of the blacksmith, both burning and freezing and blind. He was still shirtless; either because he was too lazy to have put his shirt back on, or had not noticed that it was off in the first place. It didn't matter. He gestured in a way that one would have swore he needed sight for. Head turned to the left, and then to the right, lips twitching downward into a frown. "It's really horrible," he said in a way that made it perfectly clear it wasn't really his mind talking. "It's all very dark, you see. And cold." There was a long pause as he swayed again--hands darting out as if he were afraid to fall. "Or maybe hot...." Beads clacked together softly as he moved his head in Will's direction again. "I think I'd like a drink," he finished off miserably.
- - - William - - -:
For the first time, with Jack supported in his arms, Will briefly wondered if the Captain, in this weakened and unhinged state, was mistaking him for his father, William Turner Sr. However, these wonderings were fleeting as Jack tipped and staggered as roughly as a ship tossed by turbulent storms. Will had no swatch of cloth to reel Jack to his balance and was forced to leave hands on the man's angular arms. A clear twist of shock warped Will's expression. Jack's skin was clammy under his grip, and a sheen of sweat was pooling into the crevasses of the pirate villain's sinewy muscles and over his brow. Being a blacksmith and knowing some handy burning medication recipes didn't make him a doctor, but he knew a fever when he saw one. This was severe. Good God, he started placing blame on himself. IT seemed time for drastic measures now. Will gathered the smaller man into a cradle around his shoulders with his arm, guiding him to the desk. "You'll get your rum. While you eat." When Jack was secure at that desk surface with the platter in front of him, the food directing Jack's hands with its strong fresh, hot oven cooked smell. Will plucked the thickest blanket off the bed to cocoon around the shivering one.
- - - Jack - - -:
There was a long pause, as Jack's bronzed and dirty fingers trailed over the edge of his plate, was if trying to figure it out. He knew what it was, could touch it. Could smell the food there, but for some reason it just didn't seem as real when one couldn't see it. He allowed himself to be wrapped in a blanket as his fingers finally curled around the handle of a fork. Though he had no sight, his head was focused in the direction of the plate--lines around his mouth creasing ever so slightly. And he stayed in that position for a long while, before turning his whole body around to where he assumed Will would be. "Really not hungry, lad," he started, attempting to charm Will to give him what he wanted even now. And what he wanted was to drink himself into numbness. The food--though something he recognized by smell as something he generally liked, wasn't doing wonders for him on this day.
- - - William - - -:
This prompted one of William Turner's signature, closed lipped expressive and sharp brow lifts. He adamantly folded arms into a knot over his narrower chest. Obstinately firm about this topic, he couldn't see Jack getting any worse from having a healthy meal - certainly a better prescription than drinking rum on a three-day empty stomach. Despite the undeniable wicked charm powers the weak man was assaulting him with, Will refused to let something else happen to blame himself for later. He already blamed Jack's current state on his lack of medical skills and bad timing. All he bloody needed now was for the sinful Captain to die from starvation because he succumbed to the power of Jack's pleading. "Are you a pirate or a child, man? I'll force feed you if I have to." The hint of his snarl lacing the last statement and the sound of his long, saber being freed from its sheathe was unmistakable.
- - - Jack - - -:
This would have been the part where Sparrow rose his eyebrows and let his eyes show a certain amount of surprise. But that wasn't going to happen today, it seemed. "Oh." Said Jack, a little sadly--and a little deliriously--before turning his head back to his plate. "Play nice," he murmured softly, then. And it didn't make much sense, but if one were to confront him about it, he probably wouldn't recall saying it in the first place. He had seeming lost his plate when turned around, and calloused and softly tingling fingers moved slowly over the expanse of the desk to find it. Upon doing that he clicked dirty nails along the side. Yes. That was his plate. Right hand with fork moved cautiously forward, as if to poke at something on the plate. Unfortunately for his ego, he missed the whole plate in general, and the fork ended up falling from his hand and onto the desk next to him. There was a long pause, and when he finally did speak, it wasn't exactly the most enlightening of sentences. "Oh..."
- - - William - - -:
That shame resurfaced past the snarl and William's bowed head shielded that inward scowl. He sat down across the desk from his counterpart and, leaning over the space between them with his taller height, Will took the chicken by the protruding bone at the leg's end, placing into the empty fingers of the criminal Sparrow. And, to appease his own shame, Will slithered the flask of rum free from its tie at his belt, but lingers his hold on it a moment longer to assure that at least some pathetic morsel of food was taken before committing that horrible crime he said he wouldn't do - if Jack was going to be sick and miserable, he might as well go down numb with nothing but hiccups for companionship. He cringed. But a morbid thought, could he actually allow that to happen to the man? "It's been my damn fault since the beginning." His frustration tightened his jaw until a muscle ticked.
- - - Jack - - -:
Slender and long digits curled around the chicken leg, and then, with something of a sigh, the pirate Captain gave in and leaned forward to take a bite of it. There seemed to be no use in arguing with Will at the moment, and so he just chose not to. Half clouded mind churned slowly as he attempted to not be further sickened by the food in front of him. Turner was reminding him a lot of his father, just now. Bootstrap Bill--that's why it was so hard to argue. There'd been no arguing with William Turner Sr., after all. His fingers tapped softly at the plate with his other hand--as if he were afraid he was going to lose the thing if he took his hand away. There was a pause then, and Jack stopped in mid chew, his head tilting slightly to the side in curiosity. "What's yer fault, boy?" Jack finally gave up on keeping track of his plate, and with a tremble pulled the blanket closer to himself.
- - - William - - -:
A bitter self targeted scowl. William fingers snuck up to the nape of his own neck and followed his black ponytail to its short length. "If I had simply said 'Get down, you bloody moron', this all could have been avoided, eh?" He yanked once at those tendrils of oily hair in exasperation. "If I had just tried harder to stir you three days ago to eat solid food - " Propelling himself up from the table with palms slapped to the grainy wood surface. The sound of his stalking, wide steps curved around toward Jack's shallow storage of clothes. The man needed clothes, he needed a bath more, but for now, Will wasn't sure how prepared he was to offer the idea. He wasn't sure how prepared he was to experience that god-awful suffering that he went through yesterday. "And, god save me, I know it'll be my fucking fault, Jack, that you die from malnutrition and too much rum." He slapped the flask into the desk directly in front of Jack's free hand. Over one arm, a new shirt and jacket was slung. The voice swooped down into a low rasped timber of a boy trying to be a man. "There. Now, hurry, I need to change the bandage over your eyes, and your going to have to cooperate." Wait, why was he even asking for cooperation? That would be a cold day in Dante's inferno.
- - - Jack - - -:
Jack offered no reply to the boys' words. If he wanted to target himself for things that were beyond his control, let him. Besides, his mind wasn't nearly quick enough to think of any reassuring words. Not that he'd have said them even if it was being quick. Instead, he placed the chicken back on the plate (fever and food didn't seem to be a good mix for Jack, it seemed, and he was becoming more repulsed by the smell of it than anything else) and picked up the flask. He didn't drink from it though; he only held it in his hands, a disturbing amount of insecurity lingering over his features. "I'm not going to die," he said finally and with such confidence that it would leave most people staring in wonder. Then, he took a drink of the rum, letting it warm the inside of his throat and stomach as it went down. But even that didn't seem to settle so well with him. Ah, well. He'd let William fuss over him before drinking then. "Fine," he moaned out, teeth clicking together for a moment before he calmed himself enough to stop that. Weakness was bad, he reminded himself.
- - - William - - -:
Will thought to muster up a disdainful and skeptical snort - for it was only a thought however, and he was silent, studying the enigma that was Jack Sparrow through narrowed onyx eyes. With Jack, you actually believed you were starting to scratch the surface of his mystery and intrigue, just at the same moment when the infuriating idiot would trigger his trap door and send you back to square one, in the dark, lost and where you started. Will was in a twisted middle ground between baffled and rage. The boy's sharp shoulders rolled back with a slump and he succumbed to defeat for a while, after all, hadn't Jack gotten his own damn way again? Who was there to say that Will would ever be able to deny his Captain anything that man actually desired? What a chilling thought. Or was that blood quickening? So the Captain was never going to die, eh? With a breathy note of acquiesce, the newest pirate stated flatly. " Tell that to the man who was aiming that bullet for your neck. You can drink and stand. C'mon."
- - - Jack - - -:
"Mm," said Jack--using his free hand to brush the blanket from his shoulders and then to push himself up from this seat at the desk. "That man forgot one very important thing, William." The flask remained in his other hand, but he didn't bother attempting to drink as he swayed on his feet. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." Quite a declaration for the obsidian haired fellow that could hardly keep his balance, and wasn't really quite sure in which direction he should be facing to talk to the blacksmith turned pirate. Still, his haughty personality was as much of a blessing as it was a flaw, and at the moment, it was saving his ego greatly. He'd reward it later, if it occurred to him, with more inflation.
- - - William - - -:
Will Turner mouthed along with Jack Sparrow's signature motto, his anxious impatience rising sharp shoulders. The phrase, 'Don't encourage him' came to mind and Will promptly responded, "Bath. Now or tonight?" A point emphasized by a wrinkle of his nose, while eyes fanned a once over down the length of the velvet voiced pirate commander. The good man, pirate Sparrow was drenched in a fevered sweat, and sticky with the residue grease of that burn salve. Jack's salt and leather smell was no longer as strong as it had been in his prime health a few days ago. Turner swiveled the clothes he was holding by the wrist, waiting and eyeing Jack for any sign or signal of a reaction. For the bath, if Jack was good, Will considered temporarily untying the blindfold bandage that shielded the burned eyes. It looked as though most of the Captain's burns were going to heal, but Will still wanted to give a check to all of them. For safety's sake, of course. Yeah. Ahem.
- - - Jack - - -:
Standing in the middle of the room, shirtless, freezing and tipsy (though not by way of any liquor), Jack frowned. "Bath?" He reiterated, thinking it over. Or at least attempting to. It would be -warm- anyway. And that was something he was fairly sure he wanted. Fingers gripped cautiously against the flask of rum in his hand, and he brought it to his lips after a moment of swaying to drink (as if that would help the situation any). It made his mind more foggy, but it numbed the body as well, and he was mostly glad of that. "Now," He remembered that Will had asked a question. "It's cold here," he decided in an idle tone, his head shifting to the side, as if he were going to glance at something there--not that he could.
- - - William - - -:
The threat of Jack spilling over a chair or catching a foot on the corner of a rug was quite substantial. If the scurvy rogue took a fall, Will might very well be tending to the wounds for the rest of his career as a pirate – he could just imagine all the sleepless nights that that life would entail. Instead of permitting this to happen, he guided Jack securely by the hinge of his elbow, wondering fleetingly if Sparrow actually did trust him enough to depend on him for vision, food, and hygiene - rum. Or perhaps the Captain was just to far enveloped in his imbalanced delirium to even think about trust, he had no choice, after all. Once Jack's hand has reached the edge of that stolen English bath tub, Will disentangled himself from the man - with a new mission to secure heated water. Idly, over his shoulder, Will tossed, "It will be even more cold tonight." Stooping down to a crouch before Jack's potbelly cabin stove, he used the matches there to spark a flame to the coals and wood inside the small furnace's gate teeth. The embers leapt up in a warm kiss against the air of the room, heating. "I'll stay in here tonight - its not safe to leave this furnace on with you alone." Explained as the clean water supply in the cabin was set, one bucket at a time, of course, over the furnace to warm. "Trust it to Jack Sparrow to set the Pearl on fire because he couldn't get up to put it out." Snorts disdainfully, Will released the buttons down the front of his vest shirt, the heat against skin soothing that swell of...? Anticipation? Why? Just because he wasn't going back to his own quarters?
- - - Jack - - -:
"Stay where you like," said Jack absently, standing near a wall, where William had left him. The back of his mind objected greatly to such treatment. Sight or not, he was no child and did not need to be lead around by the elbow or told what to do. The front of his mind however, was numbed with fevered pain and rum, and so it didn't bother objecting. He ignored the rude comment about setting his boat on fire, and instead, took to the task of drinking again. He'd end up being fall over drunk at this rate--and didn't seem to be in much of a mine to care. The sounds of water sloshing and fire burning set him slightly at ease though. He knew the sounds, and so they didn't worry him. But the fact that he couldn't exactly place where Will was in the room was aggravating. It was easier when the boy talked--but that wasn't something he did nearly as often as Jack.
- - - William - - -:
Will delivered a skeptic arched black brow, would Jack rather he didn't stay and let the Captain freeze to death during the night with no furnace on? The boy's shoulders slumped, rolling forward, shaking his head with that subtle mixture of sympathy and disgruntlement. Pad of finger tests the water's surface, to discern if the hearth had toasted it enough. If it was too hot, it wouldn't be a very pleasant bath for the victim of a gunpowder keg explosion. With that first bucket poured into the shallow, but long, tub bowl - Will swiftly set about heating the rest of the water before it cooled down to freezing all over again. Yes, in fact, only the sounds of this preparation could signal the swordsman's place, for attempting to explain anything rarely got you anywhere with Jack - the Captain always had to be in control, it was futile. So Will kept to himself, reserving words for his mind and burying everything else below the priority of doing his loyal duty. 3'4ths of the tub vessel was filled, a smooth very light breath of steam on the tepid surface. The boy just quietly prepared the very last of the buckets, stoking the coals with the iron poker.
- - - Jack - - -:
Jack fidgeted in his spot near the wall. He'd found that it was much easier to lean against the stationary side of the room, and had soon slid--with a soft grunt or two--himself into a sitting position next to it. Long and grimy digits tenderly held the flask--as if gripping it too much would be painful, but not holding on to it at all would hurt far more. The wall was cold against his bare back, making his teeth click together for a few moments before he finally got used to it--because at this point, getting used to things just seemed like a better idea than actually trying to change them. "William?" He asked, his tone a breathy one. He couldn't quite figure out why he'd asked for the man in the first place, either. He didn't really have a question, he just... needed sound that made sense. The flask of rum was brought to his lips again, and he drank sloppily, though not with thirst.
- - - William - - -:
The last bucket had sponged up enough heat, Will meticulously emptied its contents to merge with the rest of the water, without spilling any of the needed liquid. This completed task and the breathy inquiry from the corner prompted lidded ebon eyes to Jack. The man sunken to the floor was illuminated by the wavering glow of orange flames. Will could see the lively color licking at Sparrow's otherwise paler flesh; the image was a gloomy one.... Jack looked so lost. It made him close his teeth down on his tongue without registering it. Cascading down to his knees slowly, Will knelt beside the tub, leaning over to the table near by, with long arms reaching up to retrieve the fresh bandages and fresher new batch of medication from where he had put them earlier. Speaking without looking. "Here." And again, with the same dry and guarded hollow speech. "Ready."
- - - Jack - - -:
"Ready." Whether or not Jack was agreeing with Will, or just copying his words would remain unknown. He finally let the rum go, setting the rum down beside him with little actual amount of care. He stayed in his spot against the wall, though his mind was telling him to do otherwise. Then again, his mind was saying a lot of things, and not all of it was even coming close to registering. In just a few moments, Jack would be fully nude--save for bandages--in front of young William Turner. The back of his mind was angry. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. The front of his mind flitted around, not able to stay on any one thought for a long period of time. So it never really occurred to him that he should be angry. That this wasn't how he had planned on showing Will his body. That he didn't need any goddamned help standing up or getting undressed or bathing. He just... sat there, head tilted weakly to the side, and waited for whatever was going to come next. The back of his mind was enraged at that, as well.
- - - William - - -:
If it were not for that fact that the water was going to chill again, Will might have lingered a moment longer at the side of the tub, rifling through the strips and straps of bandages in his hands. But because time was of the essence, he abandoned the tub and the bandages, and crawled to a place between Jack and the furnace, which cut off that eerie red glow from where it hovered around the fallen Sparrow like a death cloud. Blacksmith's calloused rough digits met the plane of Jack's shoulder, where sweat pooled in the dip between neck and collarbone. "Its warm here." Its all he said, recoiling his hand away and poised to replace them at the remains of Jack's clothes, to banish them away - but the youth hesitated a moment, which led to tidal wave of doubt, would Jack want this help. He decided to stall once more to interpret the Captain's willingness to be undressed by him, to be helped by him.
- - - Jack - - -:
"Aye," he agreed--his body almost instinctually leaning toward the warmth of the fire. It felt nicer in that direction, and he couldn't help but approve at the idea of a bath again. Jack moved a little, pressing a palm against the cool wooden floorboards in an attempt to stand up and undress himself. He wobbled slightly, when he got about half way to standing and had to pause to rebalance and breath. His jaw was clenched, showing that he was putting more effort than he had into both concentrating and moving. Burned fingers twitched against the wall and the Captain let out a little pant. "It shouldn't be this hard, William." His voice was softer then, as he went on, as if he wasn't quite sure he wanted to talk his thoughts out or not. "It hasn't been this hard since the marooning..." Jack didn't talk about the marooning much, if at all ever. He swayed again, but didn't have enough luck left to keep himself on his feet, and so stumbled forward, falling back onto his knees. Knees against wood should not have sounded so defeated, but somehow they did anyway.
- - - William - - -:
With the mention of the past, Will was reminded of his earlier thoughts concerning Jack possibly hallucinating. If a blind man heard the voice of Bootstrap Bill's son, might that blind man, lost in a nightmare of sightlessness, mistake one William for another? Jack's condition was far from the improving Turner had been hoping on. The speed of his reaction was no match for how swiftly the Captain collapsed to the unforgiving ground once more. He attempted to buffer the fall with a catch, failed, and had to resort to at least making sure Jack didn't continue the fall straight to his back. Will rose, interlaced his arms under the arms of the tamed cripple, ever doubt about taking charge vanquished - it was inevitable. Jack needed Will now, despite how horribly unacceptable that might be for the Captain to need anyone. Sh, Jack. Don't speak. You're slaughtering yourself. Will said none, the quiet and complete control of a craftsman resurfacing. Will's youthful and liquid strength drew Jack to standing, next, that strength helped him tackle the sparse steps separating them from the tub, which beckoned to the injured villain with its offering of relief. Will crouched elfishly in front of his captain, keeping a sturdy grip on the other mans' legs to prevent another potentially harmful tumble. He discarded the remains of Sparrow's clothing, numb to his feelings, so buried and guarded, eyes lidded, determined - unable to absorb anything but unease, apprehensive. What if Jack really was doomed to be so helpless for good? Thoughts like these wouldn't allow for the pure adoration of another's displayed body.... Well, maybe one or two. Sh, Jack. Don't. Just don't hurt yourself anymore. William didn't care if the man didn't like it, he used his fingers in silent language to suggest Jack cross over into the tub now. It was safe there.
- - - Jack - - -:
Even without words, he understood those fingers, and his now naked body--heavy feeling and more tired than it ought be--took the suggestion and he moved slowly to the tub. There was no absurd sway to his walk, now, but somehow that didn't stop his hips from being obvious when he moved. It just came natural to the captain, it seemed. Much like breathing. Lips remained shut, as if he knew that talking wasn't doing him a lot of good, and his mouth remained in a straight, nearly stoic line. Tension was displayed on both the lines of his mouth and the position of his shoulders. Blacksmiths' arms felt safe and warm around his own, and so he stopped when Will urged him to--hands moving out cautiously to intercept the side of the tub so that he wouldn't trip. Not that he didn't trust William to stop him from any such folly--it was just his way to show some amount of independence. Grimy fingers moved to touch the water with some amount of curiosity--as if he wouldn't believe it was truly there until he could touch it. "It is warm here," he commented, his words still just a tad off, even if they did make sense.
- - - William - - -:
Pushes aside the crumpled remains of Jack's clothing, making room for himself to sit beside the large basin. Sitting, his tall height allowed for one elbow to curve to the edge of the tub and support him in a thoughtful lean. There was no bothering with rolling his sleeve up out of the way, when his own fingers skimmed the water for the temperature, the clothing he wore was dampened and clinging wetly to his wrist. Despite being thoughtful, the boy managed to keep perfectly alert to Jack's movements, attuned to the wavery balance, poised to aid - but rather Jack was the one to submerge himself, it would do Jack good to slowly regain confidence in his own body, lower his self in. Now Will was only debating, would it be safe to peel the blindfold off yet? Even if it was only to replace it with one much more clean? His mustached lip was touched with moist pink pad.
- - - Jack - - -:
Jack kept silent, allowing all of his attention to be fixed on getting into that tub. Damned if he just asked for help without knowing he could actually do it or not. One leg into the basin, and he was forced to pause for a moment, it would do no good for him to fall completely over the pool by miscalculation. Burned fingertips felt cautiously at the side of the pool, doing the math in his head before he actually stepped all the way in again. His head tilted to the side slightly, as if he were thinking things through. Finally though, he had managed a sitting position in that pool--it'd left him panting and moaning in pain, but he'd done it. The water was delightfully refreshing against his burned, and fevered skin, though, and so he could find no real reason to complain about the moment. He wet his lips with his tongue after a moment while his hands sifted through the water--as if looking for the real side of the tub--something to lean against.
- - - William - - -:
The light illuminated the water to a silver and gold sparkle, enveloping around the pirate, as though he were destined to drown in treasure. Will Turner allowed for a brief inter lapse of time where Jack could just absorb the appeasing cure of bathing. Once he was satisfied with the man's adjustments, he forged on with his work; only a few sparse curls loosened from their tie were adhering to his temples and over creased brow. Cupping a pool of water in his palm, he wet a cleansing cloth and delivered it to Jack by bringing it to the back of the man's grimed fingers. Though, he idly wondered if Jack would make any attempt at getting rid of any of the dirt on himself, if he had never sought to do this prior to now. Meanwhile, the doctor's inspection would begin, starting with the most severe wound. "Jack." It was time to warn. "Just relax, don't open them." Deft fingers slipped free a blindfold's knot, and the strap's tightness was released.... free to be unpeeled.
- - - Jack - - -:
Jack turned his hand to receive the wet cloth, but did no more than receive it. Wet digits clung to the bit of cloth then, as Will went to work at untying the binding around his eyes and face. Don't open them, the boy had said, and so he tried his hardest not to. Even with the pressure of the tight bandage being lightened, his face still burned. It hurt, he admitted to himself--fingers around the washcloth twitching slightly. His other hand, though, made way for his face, sliding gently up his own cheek to meet the bandaging there. Damned thing. He made no further move to take it away though--lest he get a proverbial (or maybe very literal) slap at the wrist from young William.
- - - William - - -:
When Will dressed Jack's wound three days ago, it had been a sight to cringe from. Quite a good thing that Jack had been unconscious from the explosion's blast, for his eyes had been seared with black ash, scalded, even beading with drops of blood between the fans of Jack's sienna brown lashes. And after the wound had been cleaned, medicated and given three days to heal, one could only hope there would be some progress in the recovery. Will gingerly separated the cloth from shielding those haunting Captain's eyes, baring the wound for inspection. What he saw brought relief, a breath puffed out from between parted lips - had he been holding that breath? For how long? Yes, Jack's condition had improved. The swelling was gone, the few scrapes and cuts around his lids were sealed, not one of them would leave a scar. Jack was an infinitely lucky man, escaping death with the effortless, slipperiness of an eel. There was still the showings of a scorching burn, but that was to be expected. The skin was hued red, tender. Will inspected, leaning partially over the tub to hover above Jack enough to see clearly in the dim light. Humming once in affirmation. "Mhm. Mmm."
- - - Jack - - -:
Eyelids twitched ever so slightly, and Jack bit his bottom lip in a fight to stay in concentration. It would not do to open his eyes just now. He wanted to--badly--but he wouldn't. The fresh air around his face was almost painful, but at the same time a simple pleasure. Eyebrows rose at Will's noises (which rather hurt, he noticed. The movement was stretching the skin, and moving wounds that had been set still for three days now--hands clenched that cloth until his fingers hurt and his knuckles went white. "Wot?" Came the apprehensive questioning from the Captain's mouth. Worry was fixed on his mouth, and his head was tilted slightly to the side. Dark inklings of hair that were only partially wetted from the water fell down his back, tickling shoulder blades.
- - - William - - -:
Oh yes, Will saw that worry etched to Jack's mouth, for that mouth had never actually been closer, never been more reachable - or simply captivating, even if they were tense with concern and dread, the lips were far too mischievous to loose their rakishly appealing draw. Will's voice melted into a raspy, low timbre, his throat constricted. "Its..." And what exactly was it he had been speaking of? The expressive boy's brows furrowed deeply in his own confusion. "Its healing, Jack. Needs time." At least he still spoke with confidence, for he had seen burns like this before, had even had a burn nearly this bad in the beginning of his training, of course, he had never gone through the horror of a burn to the eyes. And immediately felt a knife twisted in his gut for thinking about Jack's mouth when the man was obviously suffering. Will found the salve with one hand, the other, carefully took the edge of Sparrow's bristled jaw to hold it steady, tilting the man's chin up a little more to align them face to face. The greasy tip of a forefinger smoothed over the injury, but Will wasn't exactly as delicate as a woman nurse might be, and his finger's callousness would sometime inflict mild pain. "Be still." Close enough that his words would pulse warm air against Jack's mouth and their breath would mingle. Will was deep in concentration, eyes narrowed with focus.
- - - Jack - - -:
Will's demand for stillness was a damned difficult one to follow. Inhaling sharply at the feel of the Blacksmiths' hands on that wound, the captain of the Black Pearl jerked backward, not that it did him much good, as his bare back was already flat against the side of the tub. Eyelids twitched, and then opened by reflex, and mostly all by accident. It was all very dark for a second, and then the fire and the light all felt as if it was searing its' way into Jack's eyes, leaving the rest of the world--which seemed to only be William's face--blurred and swimming--and most of all, very unintelligible. With a strangled kind of yelp his eyes shut themselves again, painfully pressing closed until even the black seemed to be moving around him. He swayed in his sitting position, hands having totally forgotten the washcloth, and now frantically searching out the nearest handhold. Which appeared to be William himself. Pained fingers were fixed onto the other mans' sleeved arms, fingernails digging sharply into the cloth to find something "real" to cling to. He said no words but his breathing was quick and pained--his teeth, both gold and cream, biting hard onto his lower lip--enough to make it bleed, it seemed.
- - - William - - -:
The sudden outburst shattered Will's concentration - nearly causing him to loose his balance and land in the narrow tub onto he convulsing Pirate villain. He somehow caught his hands on the rim of the tub before falling. He should have foreseen something like this coming, Jack would never be able to resist testing his sight, there was no blaming him. Will could only be witness to his patient's painful attack; those jerking ringed fingers clutched his arms, making his shirtsleeves soggy. But of course, most of him was already splashed now. He didn't notice in the least. Will could only see the anguish on Jack's face, he could only hear the frenzy of panted breathing, could only feel that rough yank at his chest to ease, to comfort, to mend - how could he lift Jack from the throes of his torture? With his own swordsman perfect balance restored, Will's hands swiftly came to Jack's face, taking either side of it firmly but not painfully, or so he tried at least. "Damnit, Sparrow." He hissed, not frustration, but merely the release of his panic. "Relax." Barely spoken, Will reacted without thought, on pure instinct, mindlessly desperate to take away the agony of Jack's eruption. He covered the gap of his Captain's heavily panting mouth with his own, but the electric shock of the contact brought Will's rationality back and he wordlessly separated -reeling in shock.
- - - Jack - - -:
Still bleeding lips parted half way in some amount of shock, but it seemed that William's initial plan to get Jack's mind off the searing pain had mostly succeeded. Breathing was still out of pattern, but not nearly as strained now, and hands that had been gripped onto Will's sleeves to the point of brining pain, loosened drastically. His rum and pain numbed mind fought to think of something to say--something to -think-. Knees were drawn upward toward his chest in a very insecure sort of gesture and those fingers spasmed against Will's arms once. Though his eyes were clamped together tightly yet (not the best idea, either, as he seemed to be disrupting the wounds), his mouth was in an impassive line. He didn't want to show what he was feeling. A bizarre mixture of pain, curiosity and lust. "That was...interesting." He finally managed to gasp out.
- - - William - - -:
Will's attempt to comfort Jack Sparrow only awarded him with his very own tormenting pain, blood roared through his ears, but most of it was rushing to the erection that surged against the drawn strings at the front of his trousers. He could feel the dumb founded expression on his face, could feel the alarm in his own eyes and fingers withdrew from the tub in a numb terror. Will had not truly thought of his action before performing it, he had been hit with it out of nowhere the same way the blind had. Briefly, the youth grasped at the hope that perhaps it hadn't actually happened, but a bead of copper salt tainted the edge of his mouth. Jack's blood. Proof. Will longed to shrink up, get up and out of here, somewhere he could think of Elizabeth, think of any woman; pretend that the simple connection of his mouth against Jack's hadn't aroused him to this throbbing level. He forced himself to regain faint-hearted composure, heavily rasping in his panic. He started to speak and suddenly, his cowardly fright became anger, scowling blackly. "It got you to fucking calm down, didn't it?"
- - - Jack - - -:
If Jack had been expecting any sort of answer, the one that Will had just given him was the farthest from it. He managed to tell himself that it was just his fevered mind and pain that made him feel so disappointed in the response of the blacksmith. "Oh," Said Jack lightly, his eyes still squeezed shut, and mouth fighting to stay in a straight line. "Aye." Long digits suddenly felt very lost on the wrinkled cloth of William's shirt, and so he let go of the other man--his hands dropping back down into the water there. He swayed then, his head feeling very light and fuzzy. He said no more; he just tilted back in forth (mostly unaware) in the warmth of the water. At least it was warm though--there was one thing that he could depend on for a while longer. With the concentration it took to keep himself sitting up mostly straight, his face was no longer controlled. Bloody mouth turned downward, hovering in-between a pout and a frown.
- - - William - - -:
Will was so filled with anger and confusion toward himself, he couldn't register that Jack's expression had almost looked longing for a brief and helpless second. Just the very words that Jack had said were heard as taunting and cruel to Will's ears, having expected Jack, even in blind state, to have made some crack about Will's weaknesses. What he couldn't understand is why the words had not been aimed to stab at his pride, but instead had been signals of a far different aim. Would it have mattered, if Jack was willing or not, to the struggling young man at this point, when his response to the taste of Sparrow's open mouth was impossible to neglect? Would it have stopped him from guiding dripping fingers to the column of a burnt bronze throat and cutting off Jack's escape for the second kiss, crashing down like the crest of a high wave, desperate, but also, horribly slow and questioning. Will cut his body off from his mind, the two no longer were allowed to connect and hinder what was being demanded by urges. Inebriated not on rum, but on a far worse drug, the intoxicating Captain Jack Sparrow. This time, Will didn't disconnect.
- - - Jack - - -:
Bloodied lips pressed tightly against the invading set that were upon his own. Wet hands trembled with more than tipsy pain as they moved--cautiously, carefully and a just a tad clumsily at the same time--to touch Will's cheek which was oh-so-close to his own. He wished that he could see, just then. That he didn't have to fight to keep his concentration on keeping those eyes shut as his attention was on something much more grand right in front of him. A small moan of surprise and pleasure escaped his mouth, but Will's lips muffled the noise. Jack's other hand was clinging to the side of the tub; knuckles turned white with the effort of being still like that. He didn't dare let go though, for fear of drowning. And perhaps not necessarily in the water, either. Pirate Captain Jack Sparrow shivered, then.
- - - William - - -:
That eager pressure on his mouth was being returned and the aghast shock that Sparrow was contributing never fully registered to stop Will. He had purely abandoned all of that 'thinking' business for some other time and rode that instinctively primal, continuously connected, torrent of lust. With no more fear of Jack trying to escape him, one of the blacksmith's sinewy arms left his partner's neck and reached aimlessly for something to leverage himself closer, but the fingers slipped and dived directly into the tub, sinking his arm up to the shoulder in water, the disturbed splash that was produced rose up and drenched the rest of the rigid body hovering half over Jack. There was no way to tell what he did first, climb the rest of the way into the long narrow basin, full clothed, or sink his tongue into the center of Jack's mouth, seeking the divine core of that forbidden fruit. All of it was muddled into one wild storm in Will's mind. The only way to survive it was ride it out.
- - - Jack - - -:
Well, Jack would assume it was both at once--he was being rightly impaled by Will's tongue, and almost crawled on top of at the same time. He couldn't find any reason to complain as of yet--though the back of his mind was wishing for the eye bandaging again so that there wouldn't be any more mistakes with opening those orbs up in a moment of surprise. The Captain sunk down lower into the tub, hands easily finding Will's waist and resting there for only a moment before they began tugging weakly at the very wet shirt that still clung to the blacksmith turned pirates' chest. He may not have been able to see it, but he felt it. And he rightly decided that it needed to be gone from the boy. A gasp was let out into Will's mouth as Jack brushed his own tongue over the one that was nearly down his throat.
- - - William - - -:
Fortunately, the shirt had already been released of its buttons earlier, a simple matter of straightening his arms took the shirt away, most likely to a soggy wet heap slung over a table or chair. The trousers, however, were going be a far more tricky maneuver to discard. Will brought his knees to either side of the narrow tan hips of Sparrow, not as simple as it sounds, nearly slipping on the smoothly curved floor of the basin. This posture did free one hand to fervently work the laces binding his trousers, binding that greedily raging part of him. For good measure, and to ensure the lip lock not be broken, Will left one hand braced on the tub beside Jack's shoulder. He wouldn't even release the kiss for a moment, for what was happening within it was immediately and thoroughly addictive. Jack's taste, heat, the texture of colliding tongues, click of teeth when one of them strained to reach for more, take more, and the sharp thrill of Jack gasping of sucking breath through a gap in their melded lips - Will was intent to feed his new hunger for the Captain of the Black Pearl.
- - - Jack - - -:
Sight didn't seem so important when one was kissing, the back of Sparrow's mind managed to leak out. And it was true--a person always closed their eyes when kissing. So just now, Jack was just as good as anyone else. Maybe better, actually, as he had a beautiful boy undressing on top of him in a bathtub. Interesting wasn't the word for it, even. Exciting may have been a little better of a word. There were no pant straps or ties to hold him down now, it seemed, though he wasn't paying a lot of attention to himself. His hands were slowly making their way up Will's now bare chest, nimble fingers seemingly wanting to take in all the details. After all, if he couldn't remember by sight, he'd be damned if he didn't at least make an effort to recall by touching. Not quite as dirty as before fingernails scraped upward across the blacksmith's chest.
- - - William - - -:
By the time the finger nails grazed and scrawled over the plane of Will's chest, marking him like territory, two thirds of the water had been sloshed free over the tub and beyond, sponging into the wooden floorings and scattered debris of thrown clothing. Will felt the haze, like first rising vibrations of too much hard drink - a rare thing for Will to ever experience. He was feeling it now. Not drunk on alcohol. He was deep into the fuzzy grasp of a fire glowing against his back and secret pleasure taken under him. Of course, that freedom of loosing it. Loosing control. That could be quite mind-numbing as well. Hard to stop. Harder not to love. And the lace of trousers gave way under his tug, with only the faint, bitten down grunt of the effort lost in Jack Sparrow's mouth. Vaguely aware that he shouldn't be doing this, he shouldn't be pushing this hard to someone who needed recovering with sleep - not with over exertion. Hard to stop. Harder not to love.
- - - Jack - - -:
It was difficult to concentrate on breathing--he didn't want to pull away, and even if he did, there was really no room to do it in--his back was against the side of the tub, and Will seemed to be everywhere. Mouth parted farther open, to receive more of Williams's lips and tongue, even as he took in a sharp breath. Long and loose digits finally stopped their roaming--deciding to rest on Will's shoulders. Both for support (though why the blind man needed any, with Will above and tub below, not even he was sure) and so that he could be fully aware of what the man was doing. His leg rose up, knee touching Will's lower stomach--and shin finding a bit of a surprise there. A small gasp left velvet lips, and the back of his mind laughed at him for being so completely innocent in the moment. It wasn't like him, to be so not in control. Then again, take Jack Sparrow, add a fever and blindness, and maybe it all -would- add up to a submissive man. His head tilted a little backward, allowing Will more flexibility.
- - - William - - -:
The lithe agility of the younger allowed for his spine to curl in shock without pain, except that sharp, aching pleasure/agony elicited by the shin's textured scrape over a presently ultra sensitive evidence of lust. Gripping the basin's rim had become a more difficult task when you were balancing yourself and stifling the lack of confidence that someone so accustomed to perfectly ordinary displays of affection might feel now. This was quite a bit west of ordinary and Will was playing it by ear and refusing to be embarrassed by his own rasped breath over Jack's willing mouth. Head bowing forward to conjure up enough concentration to undress completely, It seemed so important, crucial to all of this, to being with Jack, sharing Jack. And the bowed head sunk to meet and momentarily rest on the deeply sun soaked skin of his Captain's brow. A pained grimace, rolling his waist into the long limb of Sparrow's leg.
- - - Jack - - -:
Fingernails sunk into the Blacksmith's shoulder blades, tearing the skin and making small bloodied crescent moon marks there. Eyes were still forcefully shut--as though he feared to open them--not wanting to risk another moment of such horrible pain--it honestly wouldn't do to pass out beneath young William Turner. Jack's ego would never live it down--even if he did have an excuse. "William," There was no real reason for saying the boys' name. He just...well, it seemed appropriate. His own hips struggled to rise from the floor of the basin--to touch and grind against Will's own. Shaky and weak as his body was, he really wasn't doing a bad job of succeeding in said goal. Hands trembled and held tighter to their grips on the boys' shoulders.
- - - William - - -:
No. No. No. His name. Hearing his own name might shake him from this primal thoughtless drunkenness. It may drag an unwelcome reality into the emptying water bowl. No. He would cling on to this jeopardizing exploit into lewd behavior - after all, wasn't this ship full of people, couldn't one of them jaunt in at any crude moment? Wasn't that all the more exciting? Will wasn't through until he'd worshiped Jack into the floor, tub, desk, bed - it didn't matter
where in location - those places were all just earthly places. And this was something far beyond earthly places. This was elemental. Fire. Water. And Will was immediately terrified to hear his name, but the sheer breathlessness in which it was so gratefully purred forth in a gush, a groan - that sound of 'William' cascading from Jack's wily tongue - that was all to delicious and beautiful A groaned name that sent a silver lightning electric vein down his back. He was afraid to hear it again, and made his point clear by cutting off the word with kiss that melded into Will's bite at Jack's bruised lip. But the tub was just no good, it just wouldn't allow for enough of what was intended and Will reared back, dripping arms trembling, hips pinning Jacks with an excruciatingly good accuracy, applying the pressure that both of them wanted there. Still not enough. Will's hair has mostly fallen free of its tie at this point and hangs around him as he pants above Jack. "Here?"
- - - Jack - - -:
"Fuck," murmured the pirate Captain of the Black Pearl--and not without feeling. It was breathy, as if it had taken much effort just to say that one word. Hips rubbed as roughly as he could muster (which really wasn't all that rough, the back of his mind decided for him) against Will's own, and his fingers twitched against the other mans arms. He wanted this. Maybe his mind wasn't fully there--but then again, when had it been? He wanted William. He had for so long now. He couldn't even keep track. "Anywhere," He finally replied-- numbed mind not extremely sure it ever fully understood the boys question. Face rose upward slightly, and his bruised lips turned upward into something of a small smile--feeling Will's soaked hair against his cheeks. It was... good.
- - - William - - -:
And that was probably the last fleeting wisps of William Turner's rational mind, the mind that said get out of the empty tub like a good man. But he wasn't a good man, he was a pirate, and he wasn't in the throes of dominating a courted girl, he was falling with a heavy inertia, into the seductive trap that Jack had started to weave for him far before Will had ever become a pirate himself. A weaved trap. Yes. A seized prey. Yes. But Jack was cruel and sadistic that way. He wouldn't chase a goal, no no, he'd emanate waves of sultry intrigue and his eyes would spark with a black diamond glitter of pure fiendish Sex until the object of his desire was lunging after him in bathtubs. Jack didn't chase, but he did win in that inevitable final score. That was the last of Will's fleeting, traditional set of thinking. They would do this, and it would be here. And damn if they wouldn't be sore as hell from bucking against the cushion-less wagon of the tub - but it was the one and true best place, it was sheer spontaneity, wild and moronic - but perfect. And Will was on a roll again, guiding his fingers over Jack's throat and chest and abdomen, for his tongue and teeth to follow. And he was straddling Jack with a long, drawn out forward grind and exploring what he could, tasting a sienna tan nipple. What would happen if... he nibbled.
- - - Jack - - -:
Jack was lost to the world now--fully and completely. Mind mixed with both pleasure and pain so acute, it was difficult to decide which was more prominent. He gave in to the pleasure, and not the pain though. He writhed beneath William's teeth and fingers and tongue, bloodied lips letting out soft moans and quick gasps; his eyes squeezed together more harshly, and it had nothing to do with vision or lack thereof. Hands lost their grips, long and almost delicate digits twitched and moved until they found a better place to be--- left hand found the top of Will's head and took hold of the wet hair there--it tangled between his ring adorned fingers, and he tugged not quite so softly. Right hand rested low on Williams' hip, seemingly fascinated with the curve of the bone there, as it stroked back and forth casually, all the while pressuring that hip farther downward to meet his own again. As before stated--Jack didn't go to what he pursued. It came to -him-. Damned if he wouldn't get his way, even now. An unconscious decision, but one that he made none the less.
- - - William - - -:
Today Will could be wild, Will could do the unexpected, Will could relish the flavor hiding in the creases of Jack's abdomen muscles - today. Only tomorrow was reserved for that Will who was reserved, who didn't pounce, who didn't skate his rough palms up Jack Sparrow's thighs, slide craftsman digits beneath them, into the shallow remains of that toasted water. Tomorrow he wouldn't be someone who lifts his Captain's knee in a liquid suggestion to hook it over the edge of the tub, he wouldn't be someone who glides the brother to that first knee over his sharply angled shoulder, for heel to press a pleasant weight against the middle of his back. Will leisurely rolled his head toward the inside of that knee, catching a scar there with a kiss, an exploration of licking over the evidence of some long ago battle? He produced a jumpy yelp when Jack's hand at his hip, pushing, finally got him to slip, loose enough balance that his chest leans its full weight over Jack's rigid throbbing. Something needed to be done; he uses his fallen status to slide farther down.
- - - Jack - - -:
Silver and gold adorned fingers held onto Will's dark (almost black with the wet) hair, hand clenching, and pulling on it to a point that must have been at least slightly painful for the boy. But it couldn't be helped--Jack tilted his head back, neck curving on the edge of the tub, leaving his head feeling weightless. He let out a soft moan at the feeling of Will rubbing up against his erection so harshly--but a good kind of harsh, his mind sang out in amusement. Right hand moved again, but this time his hand just dangled loosely at his wrist, not able to even think of a good place to put it again. True, tomorrow was another day (one that Will seemed to be promising himself prudence with), but Jack never truly changed. Tomorrow he would be stronger, if all went right. More demanding. He would crave more attention, and expect it above all else. Too bad, William Turner. You maybe not have started the game, but you agreed to participate. Now, it seemed they were playing for keeps.
- - - William - - -:
Despite great effort, Will had thought of this moment. He had not only imagined taking Jack Sparrow, but he had conceived this very act in that dark sinful and shameful space in the back of his mind and in the occasional wet dream. However, this was no subconscious conjuring - Jack really did taste thoroughly sharp, the brine of salt air and sea, leather. Or at least that is how that flat stretch of hips tasted, that dive between the bone and Jack's propped legs. Perhaps there was more to taste, more that wasn't describable by spices or conventional flavors. Perhaps an essence that was only Jack, and could only be described as this. Will drew Jack toward the slow hiss of steamed breath, and with one sweep of pink pad, drag of tip over tip, Will was convinced that every flavor was Jack, and that every food and drink he ever consumed again - would be Jack, his taste buds tattooed.
- - - Jack - - -:
Jack gasped, his spine arching upward as Will's seemingly shameless tongue moved in all the right spots--licking, tasting, whatever he was doing, it was heaven to the Captain. Rings tangled between the boys hair, making it difficult for him to move his hand, yet he managed anyway. Thin digits slipped free of the dark tendrils and moved down his face--both feeling the beauty there (since he could full well not actually look), and just enjoying the touching. Thumb moved over the blacksmiths' lips--which were busy--for a moment, and then moved back up to rest on his temple--as if preparing to be in a position to keep William where he wanted him. Not that he wasn't already, but Jack wasn't exactly the most coherent fellow around, anyhow. Small moans and gasps escaped soft velvet lips, but no actual words were formed there (per request of young Turner, himself!).
- - - William - - -:
That part of Jack he desired was dragged in by the coil of that teasing tongue, that brush that fanned over the palette of silky, pearlescent sheened flesh, with all the aesthetic appreciation of an artist, prepared and eager to start worshipping beauty. And that was what he was doing, worshipping. He engulfed Jack with the thin, greedy lips, lips that had smiled so readily upon the notion of adventure alongside his good Captain. With those petals, he intimately discovered each patch of spot that sent the body under him into a writhe. He sought out the spots that made his good prize tense, and just as acutely found the site of a lick that would make his vulnerable Jack relax again. Particularly fond of those said spots, just able to achieve them with a blazing caress, while drowning Jack's body and lapping, happily triumphant over getting this far, all the evidence of Jack's approval. After all, hadn't Will always yearned for that approval? Hadn't the importance of every victory eventually dwindled down to whether Jack was impressed with him or not? It had been. And now, he had possibly found something for Jack to be proud of.
- - - Jack - - -:
Eyes fought to remain closed while the rest of his body was both tensed and relaxed at the same time, his free hand found his way to his own mouth, and he bit down there, as if to avoid making too much noise--or perhaps to try and muffle it all-together. His legs--placed over both tub and Will's sharp shoulder blade-- managed to move so that his hips could buck forward softly. Too soft William. Too gentle. You're killing me. "Fuck," he muttered out again—his hand seemingly doing no good at muffling anything. His other fingers dug slightly into the side of Will's forehead, as if urging him to keep up the work--or maybe pick up the pace.
- - - William - - -:
But Will was sharply aware that a swifter tempo was what those spidery Captain fingers were suggesting. All the more reason to torment - for once stripping Jack of his power to control. While here, guiding the lover's pleasure through lifting hills and valleys of kisses and swallows, Will was the one with authority, the right to stop, speed up, or just meticulously travel Jack's length to savor and enjoy. This was a momentary domination he wasn't ready to relinquish, and one he was fully prepared to abuse. If Jack would insist on urging, Will would send the message by straightening his elbows enough to lift mouth away from the pulsing length, scraping with blunt bottom teeth along the way, and merely panting on it from a few inches hover above. It wasn't easy to lift his head up to spot Jack's face; the man's fingers were twined and raked savagely into his long hair, claiming a painful reign over Turner. He grinned through his panting, waiting for Jack to writhe and protest the separation and emit one of those shameless moans.
- - - Jack - - -:
William seemed to have predicted Jack's response correctly, as it were. His hand moved from his mouth--soft lips already letting out a soft noise that was between a moan and a plead for the man to go on with his work. The bite abused hand moved--attempting to find the other side of William's face; most likely getting the idea that he could force the man's mouth back down to where Jack Sparrow firmly believed it belonged. "Will," he uttered out--much too distracted for once to use the boy's birth given name. He squirmed then, in an almost childish fashion--a tempter tantrum of sorts--body shuddering at the sudden lack of attention.
- - - William - - -:
The squirm and mewled entreaty was silenced by blacksmith's calloused palms, smoothing over and re-flattening the lifted tan hips to the tub's slippery floor. These pinned the hips down for William's tiger pounce and the start of that second round. Each sound encouraged him to go on, with more vigor, even more speed. The occasional tremble of that knee hooked over his shoulder translated to Will that he was on the right track, his own arousal making itself fitfully evident, and when he discovered a new purpose for the long neck of his, swallowing Jack half way and then to the base, he was taken in the grasp of his own groan, a vibration surrounding Jack in all directions. Will's fingers leaving the indents of bruises on the sharp hipbones beneath them.
- - - Jack - - -:
Eyelids tried their hardest not to flutter at the feelings going on around him. Hands holding his hips down with such force that he knew that spot would hurt in the morning (not that it'd matter much, along with the other list), hot mouth around his erection; teasing and licking. It was almost more than the wily Captain could handle. Fingers twitched at William's temples and his breath came out in short little gasps intertwined with moans. His mind did not make any connection between his own moans and the way that Will increased his fervor when he made them. His mind wasn't thinking or noticing a lot at the moment. It just knew -something- felt really damned nice. "William," he all but pleaded out, head tilting farther backward--mouth half open, as if he just didn't have enough sense to close those soft lips of his--and back arching farther upward. Not being in charge was both a godsend and a curse at the same time, it seemed. Hardness twitched in Will's mouth, just a tad, clearly spelling out the fact that the injured captain wouldn't last that much longer. Which didn't seem to be such a bad thing--at least not to Jack.
- - - William - - -:
There was that confliction again. At one moment, he had not wanted to hear his own name on Jack's mouth, reminding him of who he was supposed to be - a proper, if not polite pirate, blacksmith who, even though he had gone as far as to kill his fellow man a few times, would still never ever succumb to the temptation of this unthinkable forbidden fruit. He had not wanted to be Will, had wanted only to be with Jack, as someone uncharacteristically primal to equal the Captain's untamed self. But that was gone now, to hear his name shouted was the prime goal, to hear it announced to the entire ship, to every ear. To shake the Pearl and rouse every sleeping mate aboard. Will had gone full circle, now it was crucial to rip that name from Jack, so no one forgot, even if they wanted too, for surely Will would be one of those people who would want to forget in the morning light - but would be unable, because that cry would still be planted into the walls of this room, ringing with it. The boy found a method better than sheer speed, he was perfectly direct with each lick, narrowing in on the single most sensitive patch and attacking it over in a never ending connected roll of warm, moist abyss, occasionally the return of teeth that grazed a vein or a shuddering groan triggered by the appreciative way Jack was roaming his scalp or temples.
- - - Jack - - -:
A shuddering breath was drawn in quickly, and Jack's fingers gripped Will's hair again--pulling tightly at the dark curls. Bruised lip was bitten hard again, sadly, causing it to reopen and bleed anew. But he didn't even notice that. He was just trying not to scream--after all, if he was being forced to be the submissive one, he was going to put up some small fight. Though his eyes were closed and all was dark, he could sworn at a later date that he was seeing colors. It was all very dazzling, he decided somewhere in the back of his mind. But that's all that came to mind as he succumbed to full ecstasy and let his body take reign of the matter.
- - - William - - -:
There was the sensation of surprise that came along with your first time committing this particular act, admittedly a small amount surprise, but only at first and Will quickly adapted, finding that the tremors of this sinewy creature climaxing was a reward and a terribly high boost to an ego that Will had never earned in any other skill beside swordsmanship. Perhaps he had found a new craft. The complete workings and expertise of possessing Jack Sparrow sounded like an intriguing trade. He devoured everything that his ill patient could give, and more besides, swallowing and cleaning what residue tainted his lips, without caring about those tendrils of release that had dipped down to his chin and stood out against the dark coloring of bristle there. Only then, after all this was complete, did he register the pain of the yanking fingers, a murred protest concerning those tugged roots, the boy slid his shoulder out from under Jack's leg and melted his head onto Jack's stomach, not a good place to sleep, since the Captain's torso was heaving with that downward spiral of panting to cool himself. But it was a good place to just rest a second and try not to think how a spontaneous, basically accidental impulsive kiss could lead here, to knowing the complete taste of what Jack was made of.
- - - Jack - - -:
It was almost positively a purr that was coming from Jack's own throat. His head tilted to the side (eyes still shut a little too tightly), and fingers almost abashedly loosening their claimed grip on Will's silky yet wet hair. He didn't fully let go of the man's hair. Fingers absently--almost lovingly-- stroked at the spots that he'd been tugging--as if in silent apology. His stomach still rising and falling in that over-exerted manner. It was rather difficult to manage with William's weight there, however. "William," he panted out again--not sure himself if he was going to tell the man that the extra weight hurt his fevered and burned chest, or if he just wanted to say the word again. William, William, William. That was the only word present in the clouded part of his mind--the only thing that really registered.
- - - William - - -:
His arms seemed to float weightlessly on either side of the pirate under him, finally without the strain of holding himself up over Jack. It was purely selfish of him not to realize he was inflicting pain at first, but as soon as the hoarse title was breathed weakly again in that sultry coo of Jack's voice, Will's depleted awareness returned and he even slipped clumsily on the smooth inside of the tub to find a holding and separate from the man. He recoiled up and back, regretfully loosing the peaceful coaxing treatment of spidery digits to his curls. He sunk back against the other end of the basin, long arms thrown out over the sides, nearly reaching the floor on either side of tub. His legs remained partially twined with Jack's, but nothing short of getting out of the tub could help that - there just wasn't enough room for two men, unless they were overlapping. Will felt the tide of guilt's pain break over him, and though he suddenly had the urge to examine Jack, with that bleeding pirate mouth and over worked beautiful burned body, Will couldn't even look at him at all right now, wincing eyes shut, forehead creased under the pressure of those arrow straight brows pushing together in concern. God. Jack. Did I hurt you? What have I done? Where did I go? "Are you okay?" It hurt to talk, to hear his own voice. The finale proof that yes, it was him. Really him. He wasn't just lost in some dream. It had been done.
- - - Jack - - -:
Jack moved then, himself---slow and slightly pained gestures--to a sitting position in the tub--the small amount of water that was left there swished softly as he moved. His hands held the side of the tub, as though he was trying to keep his balance (or maybe he just didn't know what else to do with them for the time being?), and he shifted so that he was once again leaned flush against the side of the tub. "You didn't hurt me, if that's what you mean," came his reply--he hadn't really thought of the response; that was just what came out. His own mind heard it at the same time as William did. It approved of the answer. After all, to say "Aye, I'm dandy," just didn't seem the best of ideas. He -wasn't- dandy. He was getting bruised, blind and shaky. But he'd gotten a damned fine blow job (and perhaps a claiming lover) out of the whole deal, so who was he to complain that it was maybe getting a little cold in the room again? The fuzzy bit of his mind told him if he got that cold, he could just pretend to slip and fall back into William's warmth. Hell, maybe he wouldn't even need to pretend.
- - - William - - -:
But Will was already chilled, not even the tempting vision of that Pirate thief, dazed from sex, could extinguish the encroaching sense of having done something wrong. Will, suddenly feeling very young, was overcome by this confusion over having let himself be free enough to act on Jack's wicked allure; an allure that could not even be masked by the pain wracking his injured body. Oh. Fuck. He had taken comforting Jack too far, hadn't he? Will's expression was blackly cloaked in the shadow of shame; it had been impossible to stop once Jack had croaked his name in such delicious pleading, but now - the consequences? He was already somehow untangling and climbing free of the basin --making more noise with his steps than his own voice, which seemed to have been swallowed up in some cavern of embarrassment. Hair hanging around his face, skin flushed, he was a guilty-looking site. And rifling through clothes, he found one of the heavy blankets instead and reached over to take Jack's hand, for balance - it was time to get out. Even if you're now dirtier than when you went in.
- - - Jack - - -:
Jack's fingers curled around Will's hand--slightly tense now that all the action was over. He could sense that Will was upset, but couldn't for the life of himself figure out why. His mind was too off to allow true reasoning, and so he was just left guessing. He moved shakily to a standing position, knees threatening to give out on him as he stepped over the side of the tub and onto cool wooden floorboards again. And although he didn't want to admit it to himself, his grip on Will's hand tightened as he did so. The world swam once he was in a fully upright position, and he swayed in place, squeezing his eyes shut more tightly than he should have been. It was probably making things worse, because it really didn't feel all too pleasant, now that he focused on it. Bloody lips parted, allowing a slow and slightly lost question to escape from there. "William…?" That seemed to be the only word he could think to mutter on this night.
- - - William - - -:
Indeed, just as Will had prophesied, the temperature had plummeted with the sun's disappearance into the ocean. Only the furnace could keep a tolerable heat in the quarters and even it was now smoldering low, only flickering embers fading after it's former blazing peak. Just as his own peak of fire had passed, and now Will too, was fading into himself. That echo of his name, it had also been prophesied. Only instead of the wall shivering cries, it was broken questions that filled that space. Will was the cause of this damage, and he didn't even want to think of repaying for it, trying to do something right for Jack wasn't leading him any where good so far. All he had gotten was a battered patient who was supposed to be in his care. Will draped the water soaking cloth around the expanse of Jack's shoulders and he brought the rest of the blanket around the man securely, somehow brilliantly managing to actually touch Jack as little as possible. He didn't seem concerned with his own state of dampness or chill - occupied with leading Jack to his true bed. Indicating the safety of the bed in a raspy, weak manner. "Its warm here. Sleep, Jack."
- - - Jack - - -:
Jack settled down onto his bed, so that he was in a sitting position. He still seemed to sway though--as if he were on deck during a great storm--hands clutched at the blanket that had been so cleverly wrapped around him. His head tilted to the side, despite the pain it seemed to cause now. "Not yet," he told the blacksmith--some small amount of command coming to his tone. His voice was weak though, and so the effect of his words wasn't quite what he'd hoped for. Instead of talking about what Will was dreading however, Sparrow fully changed the subject. "Don't really want t'ask for this, but it may be best the bandage were replaced." He hadn't wanted to ask. But his fevered mind told him to fight down the shame, because it'd do him better in the middle of the night when he woke up with nightmares. When he'd -try- to snap his eyes open, seeking the light and safety. Ill people did odd things on occasion. At least Jack--hazy in mind or not--knew to try and prevent it.
- - - William - - -:
Once more, Will is reminded of how flustered and shook up he actually had become. The bandage! And without thought, he simply blurted out his first defense, fingers spreading wide at his side. "I had..." intended to.. He didn't finish. Why should he bother? That action would be more productive than upset attempt at excuses. But this time, the boy succeeded in donning some amount of clothes on the trip to the sinfully tainted basin and back. He didn't fasten every button or tie a convincing knot - for he simply desired having the clothes on him to shield away from the cold and somehow retain the body heat. He gathered the bandages, having been up on the desk where they could not get wet and ruined from all the water that had been so successfully emptied over the edges by his very self. But it was impossible to stall any longer; he had to stoke the furnace and located some oil, and a match. This combination illuminated the stove's potbelly gate; just what was needed. Will discovered that if he kept his mind strictly on moving, then the cruel thoughts couldn't punish him. Concentrate on just getting it done. If it was a few hours ago, he would've knelt on the bed to get at a better angle to tie, but now, he was standing and careful not to brush skin or catch fingers in Jack's wild, gorgeously damp hair, like pure black raven in color. The cloth was cool on scalded lids and tied firmly, wont slip off in a nightmare's tumbling.
- - - Jack - - -:
Pirate of a man sat patiently through the moments of re-bandaging, trying his hardest not to sway or waver in the moment. Long wispy digits played with the edge of the blanket that was slipping free of his shoulders; he was much too weak and tired to even bother attempting to keep the thing wrapped around himself. The two pirates little moment of lust wore him out more than he wanted to admit--which angered him, since he wasn't exactly the sort to tire during that sort of scene. And then, when Will was done tying the bandages (the clean cool wrap feeling both heavy and relieving around his eyes at the same time) Jack's right hand traveled up to clumsily grab 'hold of the blacksmiths. There was a long pause, and then finally he spoke; and surprisingly, it was not the man's name that came from his mouth. It was something uncommon, and mostly unheard of, to say the least. "Thank you."
- - - William - - -:
There was no cause to disentangle from the fingers and permitted them to take and confine his in a twine. Having suspected this contact would produce a cold twisting lurch in his chest, instead, it was quite tame and Will's sharp shoulders rolled with a slump, his chin drawn down toward his chest, hair taking place as a curtain over eyes. Somehow Jack wouldn't hold it against him - and there was a security in that. His Captain was a man loyal to friends, even those who imposed too much, made mistakes, slipped up once in a while. Not many Pirate commanders would do that, not even behind closed doors like this, where no one else had witnessed his false step and tumble into that secretly deviant sex appetite he had. "You'll feel better tomorrow." Will's low timber scantly heard, though he was immensely grateful himself, that was all for the inside. And calloused fingers fell from the slippery tendrils' of Jack's. Hadn't those weak fingers been so fitfully strong moments before, nearly making him voice his pain at the raking of roots. Will's knees shuddered at the recollection. That was passed and the couch, behind the desk and far from the bed, was looking very inviting, even if that was the spot furthest from the furnace, and most cold. After all, he couldn't leave. A blind man and a furnace, remember? Must stay. Protecting Jack seemed to be the theme of the evening and the last four days since seeing that pistol leveled to Jack's head. How far and distant that felt. Was that really us?
- - - Jack - - -:
"Aye. Maybe," agreed the shaky pirate Captain of the Black Pearl. Not that he made any move to lie down or sleep, even now that the bandaging had been finished off. His mind was busy, slowly churning through the pain and the fever. Maybe slow at the moment, but his mind was usually something sharp enough that he could -cut- with it. Jeweled hands lay in his lap, and finally an idea came to him. His head moved to the direction in which he assumed Will had gone off to; not like he didn't know where the couch was in his cabin. He knew where -all- of his useless knickknacks were (he adored everything he kept, and he kept everything). "Are you ashamed of me?" He asked then--quite the casual question. Oh, did you like dinner? How's the weather? Are you ashamed of me? Yeah, it was like that. But he waited with near baited breath in that sitting position of his for the answer.
- - - William - - -:
William Turner had been facing the desolate couch when Jack's question choked all air from the room. Still severely conscious of that thickly salted Sparrow flavor lingering in every corner of his mouth, Will's darkly bristled jaw unhinged for lips to fall apart in shock. Before any response could be impulsively rasped out, the boy instantly snapped -- rows of perfectly aligned and gold-less -- teeth together for a 'clack'. His pirate leader's searching words had been uttered with so much smooth composure, Will actually had to stop and seriously question his current comprehension ability. Was his mind truly this shaken? Was Jack really concerned if a mere boy was ashamed of him? Was Will ashamed of him? Absurd, the first thought that engulfed his mind. He swung back to somehow convey this message to Jack, brows lifted in a sort of mildly, bewildered urgency. "Are you delirious? You're obviously in worse condition now than you had been." A tall stride effortlessly closed their distance in a breath, Will's hand going to his patient's brow, pressing palm suspiciously to heated surface, expecting the absolute worst and mournfully aware that it was his own fault that Jack had lost so much strength, the strength he needed to recuperate.
- - - Jack - - -:
William's hand was decidedly cool against his forehead --and it was completely obvious that Captain Jack Sparrow was fevered. But even he would have admitted that. Delirious, on the other hand, was something he was not; at the moment, anyway. He was completely in control of his questioning. Too tired and weak to bother protesting at Will's silly worried touching, he just sat still (for the most part) and took it. "No worse off," he did argue though--after all, he was Captain Jack Sparrow. Damned if he was going to just sit back and take all the words that were dealt out to him. If he didn't like his hand, he'd make his own. Sick or otherwise. His head tilted to the side--whether he was attempting to brush Will's hand from his brow or if he was swaying would remain unknown to all beside him--and his bruised and bloody lips tilted downward in a semblance of annoyance (and was that a tad bit of hurt there?). "Quite a lot happier, act'ally," his words were drawled out slowly, as if it were getting hard for him to speak. "But you, William, you don't seem better off. Ye're ashamed." There was a momentary pause, as the ill (yet fairly devious seeming) Captain set up his blows with words. "Of me. There's no other explanation." Damn the stubborn boy for making him talk so much--he'd have to work more quickly, lest he pass out from pure exhaustion. Something he did not want to do, by any means. Ringed and slender digits lay flat in his lap, not bothering to move--showing off how truly tired he was. It was a cold day in Hell when Jack's fingers weren't on the move.
- - - William - - -:
To a man without sight, Will's first response was simply that sound of an angry draw of breath, chest inflating, and defensive. His lips drawn together and twisted sourly, brows merged rigidly, sparked with a temper festered by Jack's blunt accusations. What had he expected? Sparrow was always blunt. Subtlety didn't exist to him. This same protective anger had been stirred earlier with the teasing response he had earned from their initial spontaneous lip lock. Will felt he must shield himself against Jack's verbal barbs, for surely, they would strike mercilessly if he let them. But he could be defensive and tell the truth at the same time, and not even his Turner temper could prevent him from setting straight all the claims made by the aberrant and unhealthy man on the bed. William's fingers had recoiled away long before now, and at his sides, they were holding his belt, keeping a composed balance with his posture and with his words; they were neither harsh OR weak and wilting. They were purely genuine even if he still lacked confidence in himself. "I don't do anything that I don't want to, Captain." He bit that last part out. "I regret nothing." Again, just that crystal clear truth - straighten it out - make it impossible for Jack to conceive any other absurd rambling curiosities from what occurred.
- - - Jack - - -:
Improbable, yes. Impossible? Never. Not for Jack Sparrow. Eyebrows rose in a moment of understanding and his lips parted slowly to offer a little "Ooh." He fell to silence for a moment, mostly just so that he could gather what small strength he had left for his next moment of talk. It would be important--dreadfully important--that he got his accusation across--to make the boy get a god damned clue--before he passed out. Captain Sparrow plainly refused to wake up in his bed alone in the morning. Whether this was the fever speaking, or just something he'd been meaning to get for a while was beyond him. He just knew he wanted it. And, honestly, who denied Jack of anything when they were prodded enough? Then he moved--one hand falling back to keep himself balanced while his other hand gestured in a wild way in front of him. He did a good job of acting like he was at full strength. His head tilted to the side again. "So what I get from this, William Turner, is that you wanted to have sex with me. No regrets there. But you want nothing to do with me beside that. You turned away from me, then. No regrets, Will." He used the man's shorter name on purpose. Jack used "William" with much affection. What better way to show you're angry than to omit said affection? He was being very unfair to the younger man, and he was more than aware of it, even with a half-foggy mind.
- - - William - - -:
Aboard this vessel, as just another set of hands and valuable swordsman during a dispute, he had overheard the Captain leader state quite a few sexual things - but never, in complete, barren directness toward and about him. The intense anger seemed to falter, melting back for a shudder to coarse the slope of his back. Admittedly, thrilling, but equally as concerning. Jack had said nothing more than the truth that he believed, and while the first section of his statement was without error - the second part needed correction. Will did not realize how evident it was that his anger had faltered and vanished for a moment. He felt an intense urge to rectify - despite whether it had made Jack 'happier' or not - what Will did was take advantage of someone who needed care, not a complete abandonment into sexual appetite - Will had plainly rescued himself from hurting Jack anymore, rescued himself from making any more thought-less actions. He fisted an edge of the cover cocooned around Jack, to get his attention. "It has nothing to do with shame of wanting you - it's the shame of not being able to refuse it." And so much for rescuing himself from thoughtless action, he was nearly holding Jack in his grip again, nearly hovering, wrapped in that same confusion, same inability to stop. Stop. But he couldn't get away from Jack.
- - - Jack - - -:
"You couldn't resist my sexual appeal." Assessed the weary Captain--who wasn't fairing too well on his side of the argument. His mind was too fuzzy to think up a new plan of action, and so it was difficult to go on. Damn his situation! "But you can resist -me-. No regrets." He was doing a lot of repeating on this night, it seemed. His body was tensed, not wanting to truly anger the grip on the blanket that he couldn't see, and hands that had been active were prone and immobile once again. It'd taken a lot to move like that; it was frustrating. He turned his head away from the direction in which Will was, damp and inky hair rustling over the blanket and rubbing against his neck making him shiver. Again, he was at the point where he couldn't decide if he was far too hot, or far too cold. Horrid sickness. Perhaps, the back of his mind whispered, it would just be easier to roll over and die. Bad thoughts that were very uncharacteristic of him.
- - - William - - -:
When all the boiling disquiet in Will could no longer be curbed and his unchecked eruption was supposed to occur right now, with a shout of complete confession for the whole Spanish Main to listen to - it didn't. Instead - the four words that had been on the brink of his tongue, were now swallowed down to be spoken much more low, much more confidential. He sunk liquidly to the bed without disturbing it enough to jostle its other occupant; he was behind the swaying Sparrow and already maneuvering the man with the pressure of fingers that suggested he lay back. Lie back on to William. Succumb. Something Jack never did, surrendered. But in the right moment, with the right warm body, perhaps it was only improbable and not impossible. When the weight of Jack's relaxed head was in his lap, easily permitting access of calloused swordsman fingers to caress forehead - he finally found his voice, located so far down, it was no longer a part of himself, and yet, it was all of him there was left to reveal. Finally finding and shedding the four words. Without harshness, but still, with a helplessly morose rasp of frustration, head bowed forward - not in the shame that Jack might interpret it as, but in the relief of someone who knows he's doomed, and has accepted it. "I want you, Jack."
- - - Jack - - -:
Jack's head tilted to the side, as if he was relishing the feel of the other mans' fingers against his forehead and hairline (usually hidden by a dirty red bandana) and silently urging for more touch. And not even in a sexual manner this time. There was no argument put out from Jack's mouth at this particular moment of surrender; instead, he stayed almost deathly silent. Mouth, however, moved from it's angry frown to being slightly upturned. Hardly more than a straight line, but even through blood and bruise, the slight smile was obvious. "Aye," he managed to whisper out--using his last bit of strength to maneuver his hand upward to awkwardly pat William's own with clammy feeling digits. "No regrets, William," and although he was repeating those same words over, he was speaking for -himself- this time. A man didn't work so damned hard to get something he wanted and then not show that the reward wasn't appreciated, after all. His hand dropped back down to his side then, fingers playing for a moment with the blanket around him before ceasing all their motion. Good. He'd gotten what he'd been seeking to gain for quite a while now--now he could relax some. Boy was a hard catch--but there was very little the Captain couldn't gain. He -was- Jack Sparrow, after all.