Title: Of Blindness and Vision: Day Three (of three) BR Author: Frost AND Kacey BR Rating: NC-17 (sex thingamagigs..)BR Summary: Jack gets injured, and Will has to play nurse-maid. Or at least try. BR Disclaimer: Don't own it. But we do own this story. So take THAT. BR Archive: O_O Yes..! Tell us first, though. BR 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. br Uh, anyway, this is actually a part of our "Of." series, which is ongoing and being spewed out in no particular order. Enjoy! BR Oh yeah. Jack is played by Frost, and Will by Kacey.P

B- - - Day Three - - -:/B DD

B- - - William - - -:/B DD The first of the five senses that rouses from unconsciousness is sight, and if you don't have that - its auditory. Will had perfect vision, but when a white morning sun's glow finally registered through his resting lids, opening them only caused a wince, turning head fitfully to shield against the light's attack. There were no windows in the crew quarters, no searing flash of morning to greet him from his bunk on the lower levels of the ship - so why now had the sun found him? What cannon fire battle had taken place while he slept and punched a breech in the hull to let such glow in. But William Turner was not in his own bunk, and the pillow he had turned his face toward was not his common bit of cloth - for surely, a pillow would not hiss the softly even breaths of a sleeping form. Without sight, his sense of hearing was now awake and absorbing in the rustle of sheets not his own - after that, it was smell. And Will was starting to hazily put this together - his quarters did not smell like rum, spice and leather. Not his. But the Captain's cabin did. A cabin that just so happened to have a wide expanse of glass windowing on one wall, to let sun through. Next, touch. One of Will's hand instantly went to his own body, surprisingly noticing he still wore all of his clothes, each layer, nothing disturbed from him. His other arm was securely pinned under the familiar weight of a sinewy, feline sea dog of a pirate and shorter man than himself. It was time to try those eyes again. Will blurrily inspected his situation - remembering everything. He had fallen asleep in Jack's bed while tending the heat fever that had been stirred up after the bath. And Jack was still coiled into a cocoon of blankets, none of them removed - they weren't even facing each other, rather, Will was on his side, one arm curled under Jack, who was sprawled on his back. Perfect positions if the blacksmith had wanted to easily watch the bed companion doze - and possibly, he wanted just that, attempting to make no movement. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Sparrow, himself, seemed to still be asleep. After all, he had no sense of sight to allow the sun to wake him-- and beside that, the ill man had been far past over exhausted. This was much needed sleep on: his part. Mouth was parted ever so slightly, taking in soft and even breaths as his chest rose and fell. No, no snoring for this Captain. He was too deep into sleep for that--plus it was something he only did when drunk (and he'd be the first to admit it). One hand was positioned over his own waist, fingers curled upward in that unconscious sort of manner. His other arm was flung to the side--hand not even being balanced by the bed anymore. Maybe it had been good for Will that he was sick--Jack appeared to be possessive of the bed's space. And luckier on the part of the swordsman was the fact that Jack's high fever seemed to be at a much lesser degree today. Probably by the fact that the wily Captain had fallen asleep, and so had finally been -still- for hours at a time. Long and inky tendrils of hair both framed his face and blocked it from view. Some few locks had somehow gotten lost in their direction and ended up lying over the bridge of the Captains nose. Something he was probably used to, it seemed, as it didn't bother his sleeping any. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD The younger's cheek lay motionlessly on the one pillow that Jack had not managed to snatch away during sleep. He faced the pirate, presented with a partially masked view of his profile, if it were not for the blindfold bandage and the occasional group of raven hair that had cascaded over Jack's expression of tranquil rest. Will deducted from the sedate, connectedly even flowing breath that his patient was enveloped in such a deeply consuming sleep, that if slender, lengthy olive fingers might go to intercept and banish those strands from Jack's face, it wouldn't stir him. Will thankfully did not have to worry over removing his arm from beneath the captain's to be able to gingerly curl his long free arm up, to hover briefly, savoring another lapse of peace - and then sliding back all the hair, returning it to the rest of it's ocean of ink mane. Instead of disengaging fingers to his side right away, they smoothed with slow enjoyment from Jack's temple, to ear, over the angle of jaw and over the lips, no longer swollen from Will's attack, but still stained by the residue of dried blood. Will caressed those lips; serenely open petals, with just the pad of one finger. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack's head tilted back, and lips parted open a bit further, very likely moistening the blacksmiths' lone finger there. All of this, though, was just unconscious response to Will's touch, it seemed, because the Captain's breathing didn't change at all, nor did the rise and fall of his chest. A small sigh was emitted from those parted lips, but it was the one only a sleeping person could muster--wistful and dreamy. At least it sounded content. Perhaps the Captain was dreaming of good things? Looting treasure (the un-cursed kind) on a secret island? Becoming the most well known and most fearsome of pirates in the world? Or perhaps, it was something as simple as the idea of waking up to a warm body next to him? That was a secret only the depths of his sleeping mind knew-- as he would very likely promptly forget what he'd been dreaming upon waking. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD Indeed, with the movement of Jack's unconsciously approving sigh, an index's tip had been briefly caught by the warm, silkier part of Jack's lip, that part not chapped, like all good pirates' mouths - chapped by sea wind, sea sun, by rum, smoke, or even fervid lip locks when no other eye could witness. Lips that kept a secret. And Will knew, even from just the single incidence of it, what that softer part of Jack's mouth had to offer to another's greed to taste it. He drew back his hand, using it as leverage to start separating his own waist away from the side of Sparrows -- after all, it wouldn't do any good to be so painfully careful in not rousing the ill patient, just to allow Will's sudden and sharply straining erection to wake him with its pressure on his hip. Inexperienced in actually being with someone else in a bed, much less tangled with them, the Turner boy had to play it all by ear. Maybe if he swiveled his elbow out more flat, he could slip it out. It was his only plan, and inching free from that security of Jack's warm lengthy body, Will didn't account for the end of the bed to be so close behind him, Wow, Jack really had taken up all of the bed, and he slipped off to the hard wood floor, at least the blanket he had been twisted in slowed down his fall and he didn't land with a thump, more of an awkwardly quiet roll, until he lay on his back, with still the ankle of one leg caught in the sheet on the bed. He could never win. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD The tugging of the sheets -was- something that would rouse the sleeping Captain--however, only slightly. With a soft moan, the older of the men rolled over--arm moving to drape over the figure that should very well have still been on that bit of bed. To no avail it seemed, as his arm landed only on the mattress. The spot was still warm, however, and that seemed to keep the slowly waking pirate content for the moment. There was a long moment where it seemed like Jack would just drift back off into his peaceful sleep; but then, his lips moved downward into something of a frown. He had, after all, had a very nice goal last night. To wake up next to the warm body of the blacksmith William Turner. A simple, easy goal after he'd managed to persuade Will that that was exactly what -he'd- wanted, too. So where the hell had his prize gotten off to? He attempted to open his eyes--to search for the boy--and then was reminded in a slightly painful manner that that wasn't something he was able to do. With a little groan, and a curse, the Captain shifted in bed--moving up to a half sitting position by leaning on his elbow. It didn't hurt nearly as much as it would have last night. Sleep seemed to have done him some good. When he finally mustered up the will to speak, his voice was slow and muddled with sleep. "Will?" His senses weren't good enough yet to tell him if the boy was actually in the room--ears were just now registering the familiar sound of the ocean waves hitting the Pearls' hull. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD Even Will's original intention had been only to separate a little, not entirely leave the occupancy of the bed - he might've actually somehow maneuvered to get back into Jack's tangle without having hips directed anywhere to give away that reaction to Sparrow's arousing kissable sigh of relaxation. Instead - the misfortunate found himself on the floor beside the bed for the second time in the last two days. It seemed he was doomed to this fate. The blanket knotting his ankle was tugged again as the leg was attempting to free. How could this all be worse? Jack was waking up - no, had woken up. It was a lucky break that the Captain was blind, for it would be just another embarrassment for Jack to prod him with. Will, very awkwardly rose to his feet, once it was possible, and cleared his throat, almost a little TOO huskily, watching Jack. "Still here, Jack." P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack tilted his head to the side---much like a curious puppy would--hair cascading down his shoulders with the movement. His mouth pursed, as if he were going to ask something, but then he never spoke. Instead, he shrugged--something that required great effort for one in his position--and then fell back into a lying position. Bronzed arms pulled the blankets back around him absently before greedily hugging the nearest pillow within his reach to his chest a head. The gesture in itself was almost child-like; and for some reason, that made a terrible lot of sense. Jack, for all his cleverness and sex appeal, was (self admittedly) terribly greedy--but never in a bad way. And playful to boot. Fingers wiggled, squishing the softness of the pillow, and one would note his breathing was slowing again--as if he'd made up his mind to just fall back asleep. "Come back to bed," he murmured out at the clumsy blacksmith. "Was much warmer with you here." Yeah, who could resist a comment like that? P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD Much warmer, Will agreed silently. One glance cast toward the stove -- no accidental fires had escaped to set the Pearl ablaze - where the warmth was slowly drawing back again. But Will remembered now, despite not exactly registering any memories when he awoke, that there were no matches left in the stove box - and that someone would need to retrieve more from the galley if they were going to strike another fire. But perhaps, now that it was morning, with all last night's chills already passed by, one might only need another lengthy body against theirs to achieve that comforting temperature for rest. And maybe, Will could provide that, not even he could mess up a task so simple - or so he thought. Yet, before rejoining the center of the bed, he slid the curtains across that expanse of window, cloaking the room in red shadow - for Jack's curtains were red, and with the light passing though the heavy material, it infused the quarters with a scarlet hue. Will was already tiredly folding back onto the bed when he started to wonder if Jack had done that on purpose... P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack? Done something on purpose? -Never-. Maybe it had been Barbossa's doing! Either way, William's musings would soon be put to a halt as the extremely naked figure of Captain Jack Sparrow made itself very obvious; pressing himself up against Will's clothed form. He wiggled for a moment, as if trying to find a more comfortable position, and then decided that he was happy to have his own head resting against William's shoulder--ringed and devious digits wrapping around the blacksmiths waist and resting low on the small of the man's back. He purred- -yes, purred--happily for a moment before assuming a more normal breathing pattern--slow and mostly comfortable seeming. His legs were greedy, feeling the need to intertwine with the panted legs of William--seemingly just so that they could be stretched out fully and warm at the same time. Trust Jack to use even something as simple as a sleeping position to his own advantage. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD He had not sunken into place more than a heart's beat, before his own started to rapidly pick up tempo - Jack's arrangement of his arms and legs were fluidly sudden and with purpose, as well, they fell in place around him as natural and routine as breathing. Jack had found his place around William with a grace that only a man like him could manage in a bed, and not when he attempted to walk straight lines. But the naked, sharp tan knee that had been wedged between his taller legs, had brushed completely over the front of Will's trousers and he somehow restrained himself from jerking away, but rolled his head away from Jack quickly, to hiss a sharp breath through teeth. With the position of Jack's head on his shoulder, Will had one of his arms pinned against the bare torso, and fingers twitched unconsciously somewhere around Jack's navel. Calm. Calm. An inner mantra, repeated to himself. The fingers stopped twitching and Will's body untensed. Adapt. Not so bad. Once you calmed. Even nice. A silent, sleeping Jack meant a non-argumentative, non- stubborn one. And a sleeping Jack on top of him - well, Turner didn't quite know what that meant yet. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Head nuzzled into Will's shoulder, his hair somehow managing to get in the way again--hiding most of the Captain's face, and very likely tickling the bit of bare skin that the blacksmith did have by his collar bone. A sleepy sigh left lightly bruised (and slightly dried blood covered) lips; and Jack--who one could only assume was asleep-- managed to somehow press himself even closer to the taller man (mostly in reaction to the feeling of the fingers near his navel), hips pressing up against Will's lower stomach. One would be left to wonder if Jack was really awake and just teasing the poor blacksmith or if he really was sleeping--and his movements, though decidedly coy, were purely innocent. The latter seemed improbable--but it was not, by any means, impossible. His chest rose and fell slowly-touching Will's own chest for a moment before his breath drew back in. Repeat. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD The tolerable weight of hips snug against Will's lower stomach was becoming intolerable with their provocative pressings. Mmm, maybe not intolerable, exactly. Will unconsciously flexed his feet into the mattress, and his own waist rolled invitingly. The body could be a traitor to the mind. The body did not know right from wrong, and had no conscience. But the new pirate did. So why wasn't it telling him to roll his neck away from the caressing breath fanning on it? Because he did want it, hadn't they been through this before? His hips had at least only rolled forward once, too shy to even accidentally do it again. Dexterous fingers sought something to take handle on, connecting and melting around the crook of tan elbow strewn across the center of his chest. Will's eyes, sometimes sharp and biting with focus in a battle, or in the makings of weapon, were apparently, in bed with another, hazy, crescents - droopy, and slow to understand this new experience. If he held this man in sleep, no harm could be done of it, Sparrow would not even know. The boy's head curled toward his bedmate's, long hair dripping over the pillow. No.. Jack wouldn't even know. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack stayed in that position, unmoving for what seemed like hours--soft breathing warming William's already clothed shoulder, and hands resting relaxedly on the small of the man's back. He -must- have been tired--because there were very few days in the history of the Pearl where Captain Jack hadn't been awake and hyperly rambling on while standing at the helm. Fingers would dance about the ships wheel and his eyes and teeth would glitter in the early mornings' sun. But just now, all he really wanted to do was sleep. There was very little else he wanted, actually. Only the prospect of food or sex would have woken him (Note the order in which the two were listed). Unfortunately for William however, Jack seemed to fidget even in his sleep eventually. He shifted yet again, turning in a way that should have been a roll-had Will not been there, that was--and ended up lying mostly on his face--one arm slipping free of Williams' grasp, and the other draping over Will's chest in a nearly possessive manner. "Mm," was the noise that was ejected from his mouth, obviously in a very unconscious manner. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD A small shady notion had come to Will's mind, to inch his face closer to Jack's, without the pressure of having the man know of it. To hover over the slow wisps of air his patient released in his lull, close enough, without fear, to just absorb and sample how Jack's nearness might soothe him, maybe even steal some of that bold Captain's confidence right into himself. He would need confidence if he were to ever be so near to Jack again when the man's haunting eyes might find his own. That had merely been a fleeting notion. Something thought of, and then played out in his mind for a second. Because Jack's mouth was already lost from sight, rolled and turned down to wedge between Will's shoulder at the envelope of sheets. Without the head upon his shoulder, he need only be concerned with the interlocking of legs and restraining arm around his torso. Turner couldn't succumb to rest, he needed to change clothes foremost, the edges of his trousers still subtly wet from the tub water. There would also be reporting to do to the crew - uncertain how concerned they were - having seen Jack through many hard times - always having witnessed the man pull through. The crew must not realize how severe the injury truly was this time. Hm. More medication? The best medication would be food. Will peeled Jack's fingers from his waist, turning toward the edge of the bed, SEEING where it was for once. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack didn't wake from the small bit of movement--and seemingly didn't notice when Will moved to get out of the bed. One arm stretched outward in the direction that his blacksmith--yes -his- blacksmith--had moved to, as if reaching for him (or maybe his warmth?) unconsciously. But that was about all, on the Captain's part. Face was still pressed downward on the bed--but that was no trouble for his eyes, his nose was taking all the 'damage'. His other hand had some how ended up underneath his stomach, and so he was lying on that. Captain Jack Sparrow slept oddly when he was exhausted, it seemed. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD The bed dipped in a tilt as the collected weight of Will Turner sat on the edge of it. What kind of questioning might his appearance earn from the crew? What looks received from his subtly damp clothes, hair twisted into his eyes and most likely some remnant of blood, not his own, on his chin or edge of mouth. Will didn't want to check a mirror - though he was beyond positive that a man like Jack Sparrow would have an abundant amount of them in his cabin. Though, sluggishly lost fingers did locate his boots, and drawing them to his lap, he snapped a few inches of thin rope from the laces and used this to restrain hair into a knotted group at the nape of his neck. Did his face look as ashen as it felt, he touched it. And then the tilt was relieved, the lithely length figure upon the edge rising into the red saturated room. To any eye-less creature - only there followed the steps of feet without boots, some cloth being moved ( or kicked/nudged by toe) out of the way, and then that door. Faithful passage. It was drifted open for exit - and sealed again behind. Will was gone. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Any captain--blind or not-- that had been marooned once in the middle of the night knew instantly the sound of a door opening and closing. Jack stiffened in the bed, once relaxed fingers tensing--gripping at the blanket beneath him. Upon a moment more of silence, his senses finally came back to him. His crew was trustworthy. There were no other people he'd rather have his life in the hands of than Anamaria, Gibbs and Will. Especially Will. And speaking of the devil... Jack's head moved sharply in the direction that the younger man had been before (how long before, he wondered? It was hard to keep track of the hours without sight. Had it even -been- hours?). No longer was his blacksmith there--only what felt like a quickly cooling indentation; a memory of what had been there. Or maybe his mind was just waxing poetic? Either way, he seethed inwardly, angry with both himself and Turner--though not completely sure he had a reason to be angry. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD The suspicious expressions had not nearly been as numerous as a paranoid, sexually pent up ( from personal sexual unsatisfaction?), tense blacksmith creature has expected. He responded when spoken too, but carried words no farther. Yes, he is improving. When? I do not know how long it will take. Somehow, stealthy steps had gotten him down to his bunk space before he had encountered anyone who might interrogate him. Now, in the galley, with fresh clothes, clean water having cleansed his skin of Jack Sparrow's presence, but still without any brightness in his step - not even the fresh air could give him that. He was currently distributing answers to Anamaria's inquires, while doing the duty of collecting some of the mass produced food for the lounging naked creature on the other side of the swaying boat, cutting through water with the speed unmatched by any other vessel. When the questions were all answered - don't forget, Will was no doctor - Pirates may have quite a know-how on treating sword wounds, gun wounds, shark bites - but Will was only sentenced to tending Jack for knowing more than others about severe degree burns. Victims of such injury would need nutrition - but Jack would have to settle for this seafood he now would get served directly to his bedroom. Will entered, expecting Jack to be asleep, and without looking to the bed, pushed the tray onto the desk. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD But said Pirate Captain was -not- asleep anymore. He was sitting placidly in the middle of the bed, legs crossed Indian style there--an almost childish position, it seemed. His voice was quiet when he spoke, but accusing and almost harsh at the same time. "I heard the door open 'nd close." It was a simple sentence, and Will would more than likely be bewildered over it--then again, he wasn't the vulnerable one who still feared the idea of being left alone on an island somewhere (then again, that wasn't something Jack would admit either). His fingers were playing over the bandage on his eyes. They tingled now that he was awake, and he knew it meant they were healing, but he still found it irritable. Instead of staying annoyed however, he fell silent, head tilting to the side--his nose catching a scent of the food. His stomach made a complaint of its' own, and his lips turned downward into a frown. It was probably just the fact that he was sick that left him in such a sour mood. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD There had been no silent lapse of time for Will to remember he forgot to get more matches - because, nearly as soon as the door had sealed behind him, Jack was consuming all attention again, with his marginally deranged statement of a man who might or might not be still asleep. But the position of the Commander, legs neatly folded under him, was one of consciousness. A calm, gathered consciousness. And Will might've just stood there picking out the dark spots of tan skin he could see through separations of the sheets twisted around Jack - if it had not been that bejeweled fingers were prodding over bandages. "Don't, Jack." The boy dared to take authority and smoothly took a tarnished silver flask from his belt, placing it beside the tray of food. Only to give it, when asked - and maybe only if the patient maintained that decent, subdued behavior he had been displaying. "Do you want to eat over there?" P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack let his hands sulkily move away from the bandages, flitting back down into his lap (after giving a not so polite gesture to Will to show his annoyance at being told what to do). Me made a show of attempting to rearrange the sheets and blankets around him, and then his lips twisted into a half smile--his teeth glittered; he was getting so much closer to that usual trademark smile of his. P "No, I think I've been in the bed long enough, don't you, Will?" Blankets were brushed to the side, and he moved--after cautiously feeling the edge of the bed (didn't want to fall off of it!)--to stand. It was obvious that because he was feeling better this morning that he was pushing it for himself. Recovery wasn't that fast--but he'd be damned if he didn't try to make it. He swayed on his feet, and then took a long moment to concentrate and steady his balance. He did not, however, ask for help. God save the Pirate Captain--it was almost obvious he wasn't quite sure in which direction he needed to be walking. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD The slow knitting of straight brows added tired age to a young man, still in his first year of Piracy. It was a piqued exasperation that creased his brow and hardened the edges of his mouth as jaw strains and tightens. All right, Jack, have it your way. But maybe, even despite his feelings of vexation, Will honestly did respect and look up to the experienced pirate's effort to overcome, even if it was impatient and stupid to try and push recovery too fast - there was no way to deny that the blacksmith wasn't glad that the true, tenacious Jack Sparrow had not faded away with injury. The Captain of the Black Peal refused to take a fall, to roll over and die - there was no doubting the lengths that that man would go to survive. Will, with his exasperation still, folded into one of the desk's two seats, purposely sliding the chair's legs against the floor to make a noise. Maybe Jack would scold him for that kind of help, but the boy didn't care. He waited, and watched, conscious of all the things Jack might trip into on the way over here. But manages to keep his mouth shut. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack didn't bother with the disapproving frown in Wills' direction. After all, he now -had- the direction, and that wasn't such a bad thing, really. He slowly made his way toward the desk-- now that he was situated in the right direction--hands held somewhat outward, as if making sure he wouldn't walk into anything. But it wasn't -that- bad, if he didn't think about it too much. It was like... searching for a buried treasure! How many steps from here to get here, or there. Except without a map. Or vision. Ahem. Finally, and seemingly miraculously, he made it to the chair of the desk--that he -did- walk into, but made it look as if he had been going for that folly the whole time. P "Knew that," he said to Will, his head bouncing in a nod. Which hurt. So he made a mental note to never do it again. "So, William," he purred out, stiffly and cautiously sliding into the chair. "What's for breakfast?" Never mind the fact that he was still totally naked. Jack seemed comfortable, regarding that matter. Then again, when had Captain Jack Sparrow ever been shy about anything? P B- - - William - - -:/B DD The nude man would not see Will's look of bashful, self loathing, discomfort - but he would hear Will's throat clearing raspily and his voice turned away with the boy's position facing the desk and not the chair in which Jack sat. P "The usual." Stated simply. God, why should he be uncomfortable? Had he not only seen this man naked before, had also been on top of him, equally as in the buff? Yes yes, a night that seemed long ago. Nights held secrets. Yet during day, all those realities seeped in - and sometimes you wonder if your wet clothes had only been a figment of your imagination - maybe you had not straddled anyone in a tub? But Will could not convince himself that the memory was hazy like a dream - because his memory of that incident was very sharp, in every detail. And now, as he folded arms on the desk, leaning into it and searching the wall for solace, he could still see all of Jack in his mind, ALL, without having to eye the man right now. He traced intersecting lines with his finger on the grain of the wood desk. "I never finished checking the rest of your minor wounds last night after that bandage was taken off. I need to do that, but I'll wait until your done." His voice was one of a man who wanted peace. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack wasn't traditionally a man who let peace lay still, but for Will's sake (or perhaps because he'd decided somewhere in the back of his mind that he wanted William in his bed again in the near future), he let the boy's obvious discomfort go "unnoticed". Hands touched the desk, and then slid softly over it until the tray of food was found. Slender and diligent digits played over the rim of the plate until they were awarded a fork. He fiddled with it for only a moment before digging in. He moved slowly, so to not allow any mistakes, and scooped the food up. Chewing, he turned his head to the side to "face" Will. "If that's what you want to do," his answer was both meek and suggestive at the same time. One would probably wonder if that was even possible. Well. It was when Jack Sparrow had anything to do with it. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD The intersecting patterns drawn by Will's finger had turned into that finger's nail picking absently at a dark knot in the wood. His droopy dark eyes lidded, guarded. A good swordsman was always on guard. A good swordsman knew never to show his weakness, never make a wrong step. But a good swordsman was no match for a good cheater. And Sparrow was that cheater - and Will, the one who's been defeated. Did Jack quite know that he had won already? Was that the reason he did not argue as adamantly with his 'doctor'? Did he pity Will for loosing, or did a man so accustomed to victory never feel remorse for anything? The chair screeched against the floor loud, but over with soon, Will was standing - his skin ablaze by that nearness of the man. But he would get over it swiftly enough, adapt. Its just what you did. Fingers weaved into the curtain, not pulling it back entirely, but only a wider slit, the room a little less glowy red, but still a comfortable dim. That child in him still making itself known in his voice. "Need anything else?" He could go get it. Will was your man. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack chewed at his food for a few minutes more--he'd forgotten what it was like to eat for a while there, and was now relishing the food in front of him like he hadn't eaten in days. Oh wait. He really hadn't. Head tilted to the side, inky tendrils of still dirty hair sliding over his shoulders and tickling the blades. "Yes. I need you to calm down," his tone was slightly accusatory. He wasn't goading William about his winnings, so he thought that it would be a rightly nice thing if he didn't act like Jack was. After all, the way Sparrow looked at it, William wanted him (or so he'd said so last night), so there was no reason to act so silly about things. It could be a win-win situation all around if Will would just stop being so damned stupid. He took a little breath--as if both breathing and eating at the same time was difficult, and then resumed eating. Fork scraped against the plate, and the noise was reassuring. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD Features souring with light offense - melting quickly to impassive acceptance - Jack was right after all. Why overreact? He was too new to this. Far too inexperienced. Such a smart respectable apprentice for so long - always waiting, always wanting at least someone who was untouchable. First a noble girl, the passing sickness of that puppy love, and most recently, an un-posessable pirate and loyal lover of Lady Sea. It was difficult to just smoothly transition from a shy, but brash tempered boy to a mature wooer. Will was the real one with his hands out in front of him, feeling around for every step, for every corner. Will was the real blind one. And Jack was the doctor. It was quite stupid not to know this. A sigh barely hissed, boots moving around from the window to the desk, hovering, overseeing. It wouldn't be such a strange sight, the Captain and a crewmember joining in conversation over the desk, if it were not for Jack's nakedness. Will seemed to be plainly accepting of it now, even the heat under his own skin was all going to be okay. His low timbered voice, "Done. Anything else?" P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Eyebrows rose from beneath the neatly tied bandages and Jack's lips twisted into a short grin. Fingers, though, were slidding over the tray in front of him--finding the little flask there. That seemed to improve his mood greatly. "No," he decided in a very factual tone. "Not at all. Thank you." And he was a better person for not saying anything snide. He took a drink of the liquor then, enjoying the warmth and tingling of it as it slid down his throat. Maybe it would have done him some good to ask for a blanket, actually. Ah well, he'd be back in that bed soon enough, so he brushed that idea off. Fingers pushed the plate away from him, signifying that he was done with all he pleased to eat. Which hadn't been that much, but his stomach seemed to have shrunk since it hadn't been put to much use lately. Any more and he'd likely be sick. ...Sicker, that is. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD Will was bound to more acutely notice the definition of Jack's ribs upon that inspection he had time reserved for very soon. Possibly now. That would suit him. Another duty performed and completed. Eyes track the plate, never surprised by Jack's willingness to nurse some rum for breakfast's dessert even if that actual breakfast was over passed. He swiveled back to the bed, found where his storage of salve had been put the night before. It wasn't much in supply, but he was more intent to make sure he hadn't missed any wounds with the potential to get worse, to infect - more intent to simply examine, and not just start caking on anymore of the medicine. If everything was alright, Jack's best curing agent would be time. The sharp knees of the taller figure sunk to the bed's edge, thumbing over the container of salve - waiting. The bed's surface, even just on his knees, was comforting and shoulders released some of their knots. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Another drink of rum was taken, and Jack resisted the urge to hum a tune. He was in a much better mood now that he felt better (than yesterday), had eaten and had a drink. The day was looking to be a good one. Minus.. looking. That soured his mood. Head swiveled (a little too sharply, a little too painfully) to the side--back toward the bed. "How long does it take to heal?" The question was simple, and he was impatient. He did not make a move to stand and go back to the bed for a session of prodding and poking. He wasn't -that- voluntary, after all. If Dear William wanted him over there, he'd more than definitely have to ask. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD The salve vial was rolled between his fingers, some residue of the stuff lingering on the glass was now lubricating the pad of his thumb to a silver slickness. A bristly, but precisely thin lined goateed chin rises and questioning eyes narrow to the man. And in thought, Will licked his canine tooth and replied with regardful consideration. "Well. With your strength, it wont be very long." His palms opened up philosophically to the air in gesture, "Your health will increase more swiftly if you treat it right." Was there a twinge of admonition in that? It would fall on deaf ears, Jack would drink like a fish and probably force his body to over exertion without even realizing it might have an effect on recovery. P "I'll give you a more specific answer once you come over here and let me look." Almost apologetic. Will was trying to think of all the burns he had suffered - try and apply that experience to conjure up that better answer. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Admonition? Where? Jack didn't catch the tone. Or at least he pretended not to. "Sounds like an accord," he decided finally, discarding the flask of rum after one last drink. He pushed himself up from his seat--more slowly this time. It wouldn't do to make himself dizzy and forget where he was. The steps had been counted earlier, and so ten movements later, he found himself at the edge of the bed. Okay, so it'd been nine and a half, and he'd stumbled into the said bit of furniture. But he'd been close. He covered his flustered embarrassment with talk--which was what all good insane pirates did, really. "Sitting, standing or lying?" Sexual innuendo having to do with positioning? Unheard of! Silver and gold rings glittered in the dim light as he fidgeted-- nakedly--in front of the bed (And William). P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD Attention was unfixed, traveling from Jack to the bed's open space, and returning to Jack once more, with a bit more linger. The sound of sheets sliding, and unfolding as Turner adjusted his position quite minimally, but achieving just the correct placements: he, kneeling on the edge, room for the patient in the center laying, sitting - what ever was required. The traitorous encroach of a flush licked over the olive skin of the boy's nose - yet eyes stay true to their calm, their focus - even the hint of a strange thrill. If Jack would distribute his sly comments, Will, always Sparrow's opponent in some type of match, would counter with his own shifty words, "Which ever you can handle." Dry and yet simultaneously slick, it even brought the tick of lips to tilt up in one corner - just a tick, fallen smooth and cool again. But his eyes revealed the silent spark of triumph, a spark he hadn't felt in a battle one on one with Jack Sparrow since before they knew each others name, both gliding blades together amongst lifted hay and thrill. "Don't want to take too much out of you." P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack absolutely, positively sputtered. The mixture of amusement and shock showed itself on his lips---the way they pulled together tightly for a moment, and then melted into a smile-- then back to that line again; as if he couldn't quite decide with emotion to settle on. It was both exciting and startling to hear the usually prude William talk like that. His penis agreed, twitching once before lying back down (luckily hidden by his hand positioning) in place. The Captain laughed, shaking his head--and then remembering that that was a no-no. "I can handle any of them," he seethed in a mock defensive tone. P "I can do all three in succession if you'd like," Oh, there was no better thing than sexual innuendo. Except for lying flat out with large boasts during said talk. Jack slid into a sitting position on the bed as he spoke though, fingers feeling cautiously for both the side and the sheets there. Didn't want to over or underestimate, as it were. He resisted the urge to let out some pirate talk then. I'll shiver -your- timbers, mate. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD The playful cant of Turner's mouth tensed to a pensive caution, arch observation of the man moving to join the bed's comfortable middle expanse of mattress, quipping carefully and dark, like someone quite suspicious and worried about his own safety now. "Lets just start with one, shall we? I'm new." Of course, taken in an unsuggestive way, he was referring to the new duty of playing physician, surely not of that undeniable inexperience with sexual contortions, surely unknowing of the several a nimble, wordy devil like Jack could manage - not in this state of illness, but the again maybe not even that might hinder Sparrow - he'd take the pain to conquer a position.... Will squinted away his thoughts, had he actually been thinking that? It was difficult not to - the man you wanted, naked, sinking into the bed in front of you - wasn't that the way it was supposed to go? Focus. Where would an injury most likely have been inflicted? Jack's arms had gone up to shield his face - without luck - but still, there might be signs there. As well as his neck and chest, also areas close to the explosions main assault. "Mmm.." Thought. "Lie back for now, eh?" P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD "Oh, very well," Jack's lips twitched upward into a smile--this talk was a brightness in an otherwise pitch black world. Will himself was probably unaware of how much this silly banter improved his mood. He cautiously laid back-- moving slowly to avoid jarring his head any more than he already had for the day. Back of his head situated itself on a pillow, and the sheets were cool against his bare skin. He didn't enjoy being pawed over--not when it came to sickness or things of that sort--and so he hoped it would end soon enough. Perhaps he'd take another nap once it was finished. Or maybe seduce William. Or maybe both. Whatever seemed easiest to do, he supposed. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD A blind guess had been correct. There was a significant amount of access granted to Will by having the object of his attention uncoiled and stretched out onto it's back. All there was that needed to be done was straightforwardly lift fingers, move them to hover on that warm aura of air invisibly coating the complex and yet human flesh of Jack Sparrow before diving in for thorough analysis. Human. Yes, quite human, as Will now discovered, eyes sweeping with more attention over the crevices and makings of that skin - now that his mind was not completely reeling by the new sights - the boy was permitted to take a look at Jack in a much more curious way. The pads of those calloused digits did connect with the warmth at this point, a patch of deeply set russet skin just to the right of Jack's heart. There was either a shallow, healed wound from explosion debris - or the legacy of a scar. A gingerly pressing caress, head bowed to see closer, something Jack would be aware of when Turner spoke. "This from four days ago, Sparrow?" P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack's mouth turned slightly, lips moving downward into a curious frown. His own fingers trailed to where Will's were, trailing over the scar. "No, it's not." he said, as if finally remembering the thing that was even there. "It's just a scar. And a silly one at that." He said dismissively, not really seeing any importance in it. Long and slender digits dropped back down onto the side of the bed, tracing random shapes in the sheet with the tip of his index finger. He could see where this was going--the game of twenty questions seemed to be coming up-- except Jack probably wouldn't be getting a turn. Not that he didn't like attention...The back of his mind mused on this predicament for a moment, weighing out the good and bad. Captain Jack Sparrow played things close to the vest--a hard learned lesson, but one he would never forget. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD Perhaps if the youth was a slightly sharper tack, he would've taken the dismissive hint and banished his curiosity - but it was not squelched, in fact it was more inflamed and William was already questing with charged intrigue, using eyes to ride Jack's skin, using fingers to follow in the wake of his glances. There was the mapped out life of an infamous, dangerous criminal pirate - here, within his literal reach. And weren't all children just teeming with curiosity, absorption of adventure? William the pirate was transported back into an earlier day of tiny childhood for himself, despite having a former dislike for the pirate race, moved by the epics in which they were chief roles. And now he might study the tale revolving around one of these fiends - so much was still unanswered in his mind - so much of Jack shadowed away. Was every mark something worthy of reciting? Or just the flaws of real mortality? Will didn't rightly care at the bleedin' moment. He found a noticeable track that rose to his fingers, a mark calling his attention on that flat plane of Jack's exposed abdomen. "Where did you get this one, Jack?" P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack tensed at the feel of those calloused blacksmith's fingers along the wicked scar. It wasn't large, by any means, but it was there, and that was enough. He took a breath, and it removed Will's fingers from the spot--if only for a short instant. It would probably be best to just answer the boy. Then he'd go on with his life and not pester Jack with questions every time they were naked together (which was something that Jack foresaw happening quite often). Tilting his head back further on his on his pillow in attempt at more comfort, he let out a noise of contempt (scowl aiding his annoyed sound). "Barbossa," he finally admitted. That was all he said--after all, he never rewarded anyone with information with so little questioning. He'd never told anyone of the marooning, really. Sure, his crew -knew- about it, but they didn't really know what went on during. And it wasn't something he liked talking about, either. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD Fascination. Will didn't even seem to be aware of how he had sunken lower still, flexible spine curling without strain on young back. One palm had flattened its self and rest open at the center of Jack's chest, not leaning, only as though he were holding down a paper that might fly away with the ease of a wind to pick it up. Will was a Navigator for this brief lapse of time. And while the freely roaming hand, extended etching finger, was seeking a new focal point of questioning - he still remained on the topic of the last. P "During the mutiny?" Imaginative mind churning out scenes - Jack battling on the deck of his own boat, no other person at his aid, facing a good lot of turncoats and no where to escape. Will saw that Jack battle - but could still not see the man loosing. Surely it must've have really happened, or else, he wouldn't have been sentenced to the island, where he was spared a heavy curse. Such a luck turn of tide, and yet what inner scars lacerate Jack beneath skin? A deep concept for even Will, a cool shiver rides his blood, a shiver felt through his hands reading the story book of Jack. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Pirate Captain of the Black Pearl did not want pity. He refused it. And so he spoke with an easy tone; light and confident. "Aye, William. During the mutiny." There was a slight pause and his lips turned downward again. "Most the shallow scrapes and cuts didn't scar," he admitted then, sounding truly grateful--it would have been a lot of scars otherwise--"But that one, made by Barbossa himself didn't seem t'like the idea of stopping bleeding." And then, there was the sickening image of the pirate washed up on the shore of a deserted island, bruised, bloody and still bleeding from various wounds and left with nothing but a gun with one bloody bullet in it. The rum he'd found to drink there was probably the only thing that kept him from shooting himself. He'd have gotten himself so bloody drink, he couldn't rightly use his fingers correctly enough to pull the trigger. And it wasn't for a lack of trying, either. But that was something he would never admit. Not even to William Turner. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD A muffled sick pang threaded through Will's chest. The confession wasn't as welcome to his ears as he might've hoped, Jack's truths held a grim undertone beneath that 'light and confidence' facade. Unconsciously, the previously immobile hand had drawn back to the track, learning the unburied memory, positive the one true magnitude of this reminder would never be known to him, never be known to anyone except Sparrow himself. Will registered the new placement of his hand and recoiled back, a mixture of guilt and newly roused eagerness to uncover another rock on the surface of the untamable foe. Despite that ever present reality of the Captain's nudity, the youth was surpassing it, and possibly even prompted by it, to now scrape brave digit for the dip between Jack's hip and the beginning of his thigh. Very cleverly suspecting a wound to be, riding the length of the leg to a T shape scoring, above the man's knee. Turner thumbed the upside T, near enough to inhale the thick scent of a sleep rustled Sparrow. "I have one like this too, Jack. Old or new?" P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack laughed then, and it was genuine. His arms snaked up to rest behind his head--absently brushing the hair away from his face before resting back down again. "That's old." He tilted his head to one side, and then to the other in some semblance of a head shaking. "Really old." He seemed amused--almost glad to be telling the story of the little scar above his knee. P "Must 'ave been... thirteen or fourteen," he decided, trying to remember an exact age. "Sword practice and play." Gold teeth glittered in the reddish light before his mouth closed again. "Wasn't always as prefect as I am now," he admitted haughtily, "Was rash, and more than enjoyed fighting-- that particular fight wasn't much of a win, though." It hadn't been a loss either, the back of his mind told him. He'd learned a valuable swordplay lesson to always keep his feet on the move. No better way to learn that than to be limping around for a whole week. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD If Jack had intended for these interrogations to end soon, he surely didn't know that his willing forfeit of information adjoined with that easy mirth of his was encouraging the boy for more rounds of their show and tell. Will, seemingly eager to capture and keep that newly unearthed flicker of Jack's history into himself, was already skating to new and richer places, his fingers like ships on the ocean, scaling the Pirate Captain in search of treasure. Not all were silver and gold, luv - he'd heard once. And in this case, some treasure is T shaped and come with a fond picture of a shining youth. Perhaps he and Jack had earned their t scars in the same manner of swordplay, perhaps the same misstepped folly - more alike then two pirates would guess. There was a newly returned safety to explore that banished the guilt he had felt over the last uncovered secret. Drawn back up higher, toward the comfortably lounging upper part of his captain, William inspected the inside stretch of Jack's arms pillowed beneath the man's head. There was of course ink markings to be found amongst these spots, Will had even spotted a curious permanently blistered branding above the Captain wrist once. A P. He knew of the East Indian trading company using these marks to warn others of who they were dealing with - but Will wasn't sure if he wanted to ask about how getting branded felt. And his eyes were led, innocently enough, down that slope of Jack's bicep, to shoulder... to throat. And Turner was suddenly much closer than he had been before. The back of his knuckle sliding a tendril of hair from view. A scar, no, a seared collar, that had always been hidden. The craftsman bit his tongue once, breathily. "What's..." P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack's mouth turned from a smile to a straight line in almost record time. His head moved to the side, hair covering up the slightly paler line of flesh that Will must have seen there. It didn't take sight to know which scar he'd spotted. Blacksmith's soft breath was at the base of his neck, making his collarbone warm. He wasn't so sure he wanted to answer this questioning. It wasn't something he liked to think on. Then again, it was a scar, so that was to be expected. The pale line of flesh went almost all the way around his neck--though it was a lot less noticeable in front. Years of being out in the sun made it diminish greatly. The back and sides though were often covered with hair, and still stood out when one was looking close enough. Not many people looked that closely, though. He wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing, truthfully. P "William," came an almost warning tone--though he wasn't sure as to why he'd said it. He'd given permission for the questioning by answering earlier ones. There was no way that Will would have known when to ask (or refrain from, as it were). But then he sighed and moved a hand to brush some of his hair to the side--beads and baubles clacked together in a much too cheerful way. He tilted his head away from William, to show him more of the expanse of the scarring. Indeed, it -did- go all the way around. "What does it look like?" There was no way that Will would get this from Jack without doing a little work on his own, first. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD And Will's fingers, thirsty to know, then descended for his physical evaluation. It was obvious, the width of the ashen mark just right for frayed roping, the brutal angle in which it jeered up to the nape of the neck. Just a ghastly pale echo of deep cuts standing out against the sienna tan skin like an intruder, deep cuts lacerated by a yank, judged by gravity, taken down. Will laced the ring, faintly sure he felt Jack's pulse beneath his fingers - but how could that be? That gruesome angle was perfectly aligned...for snapping a man's neck in half. Jack's neck. This was not recent, this was not something Will failed to notice after rescuing Jack from the noose last time - there was only one glaring, stabbing excuse for this - and with the realization, Will's words tumbled from a tongue loose with horror, "You were hanged before." A pain constricted the boy's throat, a pain that wished he could see Jack's eyes right now instead of lifeless cloth - the desire to see that never-failing survival in coal eyes. He would settle for the pulse, in which his fingers traveled on the column of tan throat and his scant low breath fanned in expectation. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD A small noise--something unknown mixed with pain of remembrance--was emitted from the Pirate Captain's throat. But he caught himself, and so, with an even intake of breath, Jack's head moved forward on that pillow--a nod. "Aye," came his response. His neck felt tingly--that spot where the scar was unconsciously made itself known. No, it didn't hurt anymore. This was a scar years old. Jack just -remembered- the hurt--and the fear. "I was hanged before." So what--that made a total of two times? Yes. Each time he'd prevailed. He'd lived to tell the tales. But still, it was a horrible thing--having to pretend you weren't scared. All smiles and charming flitting of tied fingers as a rough rope was placed around his neck, just waiting to claim his life. Not pleasant. Not in the least. This was the stuff that Jack Sparrow's nightmares were made of, mostly. Standing, waiting. The rope was placed in it's spot and then a steady drum beat was rolled. One, two, three and then -SNAP!-. P "Life really does flash before yer eyes, William," Jack's voice sounded bitter, and just a tad pained. And somehow, it isn't comforting that they let people watch, hundred of people gathered around a block of wood, just waiting for the man to hang. To flail and kill himself with his own weight. His head moved again, covering that dreadful scar up with his hair. "But it's nothing big," he went on, trying to recover. "I'm not dead, after all." P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD There are always children in those crowds that gather. Set aloft their parents shoulders, propped up onto railways, or even shoved up to the lip of that high, display stage, all doomed to wear the gapes of wide eyed horror, a numbing horror. That numbing horror has stricken William Turner. While Jack unfolds this tale, Will feels as though just a child in that crowd, helpless, repulsed - merely witnessing from afar as a human is shattered, playing the scene in his mind's eye. Jack. On that platform, sentenced to die alone. But this time, in this new scene, Will doesn't throw the blade soon enough, it doesn't intercept a (pirate and a) good man's feet, it doesn't lend him balance in which it break the fall, it doesn't save him. A short drop. And a sudden stop. Will imagines the victim's body weight sharply resisting the length of the noose, producing a sickening sound of tightening, straining rope and the groan of a wooden board high above where the rope is tethered. Jack had seen this actual fate, Jack had taken that dive - when no one had come to stop his death - without being rescued before the noose was already carving through his throat. Will had not been there to save him, that first time. Will would never not be there again. He was smoothly efficient in swiveling Jack's chin back to the side, a directly maneuvering caress to the left, and the neck was at his access again, with just dark rain falls of hair streaking the shadows under Jack's defined and rakish jaw. Will had no hands in which to rid them, and did so with his nose. A puff of breath and when he drew another, it was filled with an intoxicating essence of Jack Sparrow that soared straight to the boy's brain, more potent than rum, and much more lethal - Will. Addicted. The neck that should have been snapped - kissed instead. Wanting mouth - tasting with a single, open, moist pressure. A single dip of tongue so innocently to know the texture of mark, the history. And with that - all Will's movement stopped. With his one pained mewl into the kiss. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Bronzed body tensed for only a moment at the feel of those hot lips pressed against the ghastly scarring. It was so Will, the back of his mind almost laughed. But at the same time it was comforting; it was a turn on, too, of course but a seemingly secondary one. If that made any sense. His body melted back down into a posture of relaxation--head tilting back a little further to show all the stretched expanse of his neck--and jeweled hand moving cautiously to touch William's cheek. It was an awkward moment as fingers brushed over his face to find it, but nothing bad enough to disrupt the scene. Nails brushed softly against the subtle cheekbone of the blacksmith and then curved around his jaw to cup the cheek. Hand did not direct the other boys mouth toward his own. William's soft lips were fine where they were, and he was in no real position to complain. His own lips parted, and he let out a small breath-- had he been holding that? Swallowing made the pressure of the boy's lips more firm against his neck for a moment; Jack's other jeweled hand moved up to rest on the top of his head, and it seemed almost like a comforting gesture. He didn't know why, nor did he care to think on it. Instead, he spoke, and although his words were sharp and almost rough, his voice was not. P "I need no pity from you, William Turner. Don't mistake me for a weak man. I didn't die that day..." The last line was... awkward. "I just came very close to it." It wouldn't be known if he was speaking of his actual life, or his resolve. But it didn't matter; he still had a great deal of both now. Those words had been spoken in a mere whisper. For William only. No other ears needed to hear this; ever. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD Will was not so simpleton to think that this volley of his warmth could compensate for all that was taken from Jack during freefalling moments and lethally jarring seconds. What was it to die? What was it to know death so personally? To look into the cavern of death's jaws, and somehow, turn around and skip out? These were questions Will would pose for Jack another day. What was it to be Jack Sparrow, if not in chains, in cells, in shackles - a man walking planks, stranded and fitted for two hangings? It was not easy to interpret a man like the Captain, never knowing if he was revealing fear, or merely waiting for the opportune moment to turn the tables, strike fear into his oppressor, rise from victim, to power. Will couldn't uncode Jack now, but intuitively decides that the words were not scathing, the murmur in which they were spoken was one to reassure Will, to confirm, to rest aside his doubt that life had been lessened in the man he coveted. Reluctant to disengage, the lips were drawn up, breath held, subtle friction of mustache against the scar's peak behind Jack's ear, a place easy to get to, because Will still gingerly applied pressure to the fingers that were keeping a double braided chin from turning back toward him. A kiss soothed where bristle had scraped, and a purr rose up, as fine and silky as steam, from the lanky boy creature who had been moved so severely by the depiction of Jack's near termination, that he could only think to seal the wound with himself. Yes, Jack was alive. Here. And without explanation, but sure, Jack would understand, the purr was words. "To live for now." P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD A strangled noise left Jack's throat; a sound mixed between pleasure and relief. What had the pirate captain though Will would do in reaction to that scar? Not even he knew--but he decided that this was the best reaction he'd ever get (or gotten as of yet). Hands applied more pressure on the back of Will's head--slender digits playing through the thick curls there. Jack wasn't sure if he wanted to just hold the boy, let him hold -him- or forget about the wound search thing and just jump Will's bones there. (If Jack could handle it, that was.) "Will," he murmured out softly, just speaking so to fill in empty space. With no sight, it was hard to fully -focus- on life, and sound was something them helped him stay connected. Turner himself was far too quiet on occasions. Probably had to do with the fact that the boy had been an orphaned and only child. Jack would fix that little problem with him eventually, or at least the back of his mind made a note to resolve to. His leg moved slowly, bending at the knee--small T scar becoming shadowed and mostly unnoticeable; darkly tanned foot hid itself under the sheets absently. He made no move to rearrange his head and actually -kiss- the man leaning over him; but mostly only because he didn't trust himself to do it correctly. And over or under aiming a kiss was a mortal sin. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD The delicate region behind Jack's ear held new flavor to a morose tongue crawl. Here, behind this tan shell, a kiss tasted of Jack's wisp of moan, the sound produced by Will's exploration of the scar lace domain. Trusting his patient not to swivel head away from that total access, the spidery digits of Will's hand on Jack's chin, moved, gliding with purpose to the other side of the man's bare shoulder, thus propping himself up and shifting the center of his balance directly over Jack, only that upper part of his body, his lower half situated down the length of Sparrow's side. More fingers unoccupied with balancing him above, were collected up the back of tan neck, rising and dipping over the abutment of the frayed rope laceration and tested themselves with finding a place to slip into raven black interwoven mane. Also, those fingers slightly lifted the neck, an arch, supported by their strength, which now rolled Jack's head back more, opening that expanse of sun heated skin at the sensitive front of throat - here, a new inspection ensued, Will nuzzled the scratchy thatch of brush under Jack's chin, found a spot of skin beneath it and grazed teeth over adam's apple, canine tooth the most scratching. "This won't happen again. My place is here." In Will language: I'll be there. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD "I know." Jack's response was only half audible, and mostly just a sigh. It was hard to concentrate when Will touched him. Harder yet when it was his mouth--soft and subtle lips mixed with teeth and tongue scraping over his neck teasingly. It felt good, being half held up by the strong hands of his blacksmith. Something he imagined he'd never truly know or enjoy--being held. Being the one in the relationship with less control. But it was slightly comforting. It showed that William cared, anyway. Another thing he hadn't been expecting. Jack had been watching Will for a long time. He liked the boy, yes, but had never been expecting more than one or two times in the bed. But he should have known better. This was -William-, after all. The blacksmith didn't do things in halves, it was all or nothing. So why was the Pirate Captain so surprised at this whole ordeal? Because he'd never been loved before. Not really. Lusted after? Surely. Hell, more often than he could keep track of. It was something new and exciting, Jack decided. So why was he nervous at Will's last words? Slender fingers tightened in Will's hair and on his cheek before hands slid down to just -hold- the man above him. Arms wrapped around the shoulders there, and he just held on. He was nervous because Will was a pirate too. Meaningful admittance of faithfulness (or love, as it were) would not keep William himself from standing next to him on the wooden stage for hanging. And then what? Jack Sparrow would be responsible for not only his -own- death, but for the death of a good man, as well. That was a hard image to live with, and so he tried his hardest to banish it from his mind. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD To bottle all the stars into one jar was to love a pirate. To tame the ocean's current was to love a pirate. To conquer the Earth was to love a pirate. Impossible. Wild things that you could not claim, could not master - the sky, the ocean, the earth, and a pirate. You could not lock these forces down, cage, or overcome them. They were all too natural, too inherently free for any one individual to claim as their own. There is too much to try and take, no inhuman strength could even pin them down. But Will didn't want to pin. Capture. Lock and cage. He wanted none of this. For, yes, he only did want to love. Not impossible in the least. Anyone could love the sky, the ocean, the earth or a pirate. Worship them. Simply weave their existence into that love, that care. To want a pirate. To love a pirate. But never to try and keep a pirate from being free. William would never ask for that. He wouldn't ask for Jack's whole, eternal heart until death did shake him of it. You can not stop the world from revolving - and you could not stop a pirate from sailing. So Turner only asked, with his nips, murmurs and pressings, to just love Jack, to give himself to that man, that free natural force, that Sparrow, and ask for nothing back, no vows of devotion, no pleas to be loyal to him alone. To have him once, was to have a wish granted. Twice - thrice - and every day after - that would depend on Jack's willingness to let the boy give. As he gave now, swinging knees out over either side of Jack's waist, but lifted off of him, Will only leaning slight back against the naked, lifted up knee. Mouthing haggard puffs into scarred neck, without realizing he had done it, drawing blood to a spot visible beneath the skin at the base of the throat. To die, and live again - was to love a pirate. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD This pirate wasn't complaining at all. Will's silent language set him at ease and excited him both at the same time. Knee pulled up more to help balance Will's body and back; his hands fell free of the blacksmiths' shoulders, slightly dirty fingers making their way down his arms before moving to his chest. Very clothed. Very proper. Well, that was Will for you. No complaints--yet. He attempted to clear his throat (which was outwardly tingling and burning. But in a good way), to speak and say he understood what the younger, taller man was trying to say. But his mouth closed again--changing his mind. Maybe now was not a time to speak (Turner had a clue on this one already, after all). Instead, he lifted his head from Will's strong hands and sought to find the lips that were still on his neck. Enough about the scar William, pay attention to my lips now! That there was -his- body language. A demand, as usual, but he was Captain Jack Sparrow--and it was something Will would very likely have expected anyway. Fingers gripped at the cloth on Will's waist, getting a good hand hold in his grasps. P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD Will's total access to Jack's throat is jarred away by movement, lips lingering briefly in reluctance to be separated, but the lift of head disrupted his angle, forcing his own to comply. Tendrils of Will's hair shaken loose, and the longest bits drift to places along the lower petal of Sparrow's lip, taunting innocently, they did. While Will's bursts of oxygen intake feathered the loose strands ever more, a curl sneaking over a tan cheek, heated brow, or down Jack's boyishly straight and perk slope of nose. Will's own graced it now, but lips did not meet and meld for that true, singular connection - the universal second - where only you and one other existed. Will didn't meet his fate yet - because the seeking plea on Jack's mouth was all too fascinating, something to savor. Unbelievable. It was reaching for him, greedy for him - risking for him. And the boy wanted to remember, his fingers still support Jack's head, sifted into the woven and clacking ornamented mass, and the rest of the digits dripped down over those open lips beneath his, spreading, soothing over the wind chapped surface, the sharp impish corners, even in, to the core, to wet the tips and coarse the row of teeth, gold and cream. And when he spoke, with only gingerly stroking finger standing between them and their kiss, their knowledge of each other undivided attention, it was warm breath, and filled the other man's senses with its close proximity. "Jack." P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Jack resisted the urge to answer in a question of 'what?' had he eyesight he would have. Because cracking an eye open and smiling in a sultry sort of way when saying "what?" was sexy and appealing. When being blind and having your eyes covered, well, it wasn't. Already parted lips nipped softly and licked at the digits placed before him, however. Wantingly; needingly. Hands tightened their grips on William's shirt and Jack let out a soft noise--pleading and demanding more attention from either fingers or soft seeming mouth. He was fully conscious of his decisions on this day, as opposed to the night before. Mind was mostly clear, and more than able to make the right choices for itself. And so choose he did--William. The boy on top of him was what he wanted at the moment. He'd have it no other way. And he was mostly sure that Will felt exactly the same (and somehow, that made quite the difference in his mind). P

B- - - William - - -:/B DD Foreheads connect in subtly, non painful collision. Will was smooth, Will was in control - for now. And there was a priority in his mind to award Jack with every affectionate appreciation the boy could conjure up - not hurt Jack again. So the weight of brows cuddled together didn't irritate wounds, Will was simply rolling with a sweet drunk inebriation from Jack, Jack under him, around him, anchoring a shy boy above him with grimy fingers lost in cloth, Jack permeated his skin, got beneath it. The sounds, the devastating plaintive cries to be satisfied - Jack's noises broke Will apart - irreparable. The youth would never get back those shreds of his heart that were being marked by each greedy whimper - perfect, purring, and ready. Sharp knees wavered, pressing down into the leg between his, even briefly lowering to Jack's own hips, only one layer of cloth, and he could feel combined heat, and likewise rigid straining. "J-" Cut short for two shaky pants of air, that mingled with Jack's breathing. There was no way to hold back, a flood gate opened. The pressure on touching foreheads increased, neck angle liquidly changing to get closer, and Will initiated that crush of mouths, hands scooping beneath his patient, finding crevices of muscle to grip for safety, a kiss of abandon. P

B- - - Jack - - -:/B DD Exactly what he'd wanted. More than he'd hoped for. Jack's own semi-bruised lips pressed in further against those giving lips. Opening just a tad more, hot breath and wet lips and tongue meeting William's own. Bejeweled fingers lost their grip on the taller mans' shirt, and instead slid downward a few inches to grip at the hips that were so cleverly placed over his own. His lifted knee shifted to the side, allowing more room for said Blacksmith. An invitation, of sorts. The most that Will would get from his own Captain, anyhow. Jaw tilted upward so that the kiss would be more comfortable for the both of them--seemed to him that it'd be a long connection of mouths. Which was more than fine by him. P