A/N: Look Ma, first ever seduction scene! And no hands… go me. I'd really appreciate some honest opinions on this one please. I nearly didn't post it, but then I realized I have no shame.
***
Will died, and woke up in hell.
At least that's what he was sure had happened, judging by the indescribable pain and blinding light which must surely be an unholy inferno. On the journey down someone seemed to have gagged him with Master Brown's only pair of stockings, because nothing else could compare to that particular flavor.
Will moaned and shifted, trying to gather the strength to raise his arm to shield himself from the evil, evil, /evil/ Caribbean sun.
There was a rustling at his side and something was placed in his hand. Will slit his eyes, trying to find a happy medium between stabbing pain and sight, but could only make out Jack's unmistakable silhouette against the blinding white sky.
"D'you need help sitting up?" someone asked. The tone was far too gentle to be Jack, although it certainly seemed to be coming from the figure above him, and the voice certainly /sounded/ like Jack's…
Will considered sitting up, and felt nauseous.
"No, thank you," he said, trying to figure out how to speak without moving his head at all. "I think I'll be just fine dying where I lay."
"You're not dying, lad," Jack—it must have been Jack—said in the same odd tone. "Experiencing the after-effects of a night well spent is all."
It was a ploy, Will decided. A tool that Jack used to his advantage, like every other thing Jack did. To wit; the sound of gently rustling sails currently hammered unbearably into Will's head, making him want to climb the masts and kill the sails until they were all very very, very very very, very very, very dead. Jack's voice, somehow, did not have the same effect. Will figured it must be a survival trait one must cultivate when living among eternally hung over cutthroats.
"It'll help to drink this," Jack said.
"I don't think I'll be drinking anything ever again, thanks," Will said.
"You'll feel better," Jack said. "Trust me."
Will squinted hard at the pirate once more, and decided it best not to comment. Rather than risking sitting up he decided to try his luck drinking while lying down, and tentatively raised the bottle.
It was plucked from his hand.
"Ah, ah," Jack said, "You'll be wanting the other one."
Will twitched his other hand and found that it, too, had a bottle in it, smaller than the other. He realized it must be the thing that had been placed there not minutes before. Then he realized that the one Jack had just taken had to have been left over from last night's disaster, which he had evidently been clutching while he slept. Then his head throbbed in protest at all the thinking going on.
He decided to throw caution to the wind and took a deep drink of whatever it was Jack had given him. He instantly regretted not sitting up, because the terrible taste made him gag, and consequently sputter, and turn quickly on his side to avoid choking.
"Oh, that's /horrible/," he moaned in between coughs.
"Aye, it is," Jack said. "Drink up."
Will glared at Jack as well as he could while lying at the man's feet, barely able to open his eyes, and slightly covered in unidentified, foul-tasting liquid.
"Are you disobeying your captain?" Jack asked, the prelude to a threat in his voice.
Will grudgingly propped himself up on his elbows and took another pull, trying not to vomit. He managed to finish off the bottle, only gagging twice. When he was done he coughed and cringed and panted, but his head quickly cleared and the pain resided.
Will blinked. Jack handed him another bottle, which he took a swig from before thinking.
"Ugh, /rum/," he spat, glaring at Jack.
"For the taste," Jack insisted, grinning, and offered a hand down to Will.
Will stared at it, thinking very hard. Something in his memory sparked… last night… Will's eyes widened.
Jack nodded seemingly to himself, said, "ah," and withdrew the hand.
"Ah?" Will said, outraged. "That's all you're going to say?" He clamored to his feet and attempted to intimidate Jack with superior height, but Jack just watched him impassively.
"It was an honest mistake, mate," Jack said, smiling pathetically.
"You mistook me for a woman?" Will nearly yelled.
"I mistook you," Jack said clearly, pointing slightly for emphasis, "for a man with significantly broader horizons." He turned, and abruptly left Will to consider this.
After a moment Will followed. Jack had taken up his place at the helm, steering the ship with an air of great importance.
"I have broad horizons," Will insisted.
"Aye," Jack said sincerely, "comparable indeed to any man down a ditch."
"Anyhow," Will forged on through gritted teeth, "I fail to see what my… /horizons/ have to do with… last night."
Jack eyed him appraisingly. He grinned briefly. "Tell me what sodomy is, lad."
Will blinked, thrown at the sudden change of subject. The word wasn't familiar. He supposed it must have something to do with pillars of salt, but thought it wise not to venture that guess. He shook his head, feeling slightly deflated.
Jack swept his arms out and bowed dramatically to Will, grinning all the way, as if this proved his point. He moved to turn back to the ship but Will, furious from getting nowhere with the man, quickly ducked between him and the wheel.
"Stop playing games with me, Jack! Either explain your intentions last night or—"
He froze mid-sentence. Perhaps it had been a mistake, placing himself between a ship's wheel and a pirate captain that lacked all concept of personal space who could entice Will unspeakably with just a well timed look.
"Or what, mate?" Jack said, wicked satisfaction oozing from his words. Will could feel Jack's heat seeping through their clothes and found it impossible to move, to breathe, to do anything but stand there entranced. When Jack placed both hands back on the wheel surrounding Will, he was well and truly trapped.
"Now," he said huskily, his dark eyes completely encompassing Will's view, "as charming as I find your abstemious naiveté, I feel somewhat obligated to enlighten you to all… /possible/ horizons."
They were so close, almost flush from thigh to shoulder, just nearly touching the entire way up. If one of them breathed too deeply their chests would surely brush. Will was doing a lot of deep breathing just then, but Jack seemed to be able to compensate, sure to keep them on the razor edge of contact.
Jack leaned so his lips were at Will's ear, a hair's breath away like everything else. The gentle puffs of Jack's breathing against his ear made Will light-headed, and when Jack spoke, so close Will could feel where they ghosted over the lobe, he felt he would surely faint. "There's more than one way a man can receive pleasure," Jack purred. His beard tickled Will's collarbone as he spoke, each brush sending bright shocks through Will. "The mouth for example," Jack continued, slowly descending down Will's ear and lower, still not touching but sending warm tingling breath everywhere it went, "can have," down the neck, "many," into the hollow where neck met shoulder, "uses," to the tip of the collarbone. Will had no doubts about one particular mouth's many uses, and was eager to discover them firsthand.
Jack paused to let out a long, hot sigh along Will's collarbone. Will gasped and shuddered violently, knees suddenly weak, struggling to keep standing.
Jack stopped there, simply breathing maddeningly on Will's collar. Some part of Will knew that he should be protesting, but that tiny voice faded with each moist breath against his skin. With the last of his melting resolve he managed to gasp, "It's not proper," though it sounded more like a plea than a protest.
Jack looked all the way up at him, eyes wide and impossibly dark. "You left proper behind with the shore, William." He straightened languidly, titled his head just so, never breaking eye contact. Their lips were close now, ghosting together as Jack spoke. "You're a pirate now. As such, you get to experience all of the… /benefits/," Jack pressed oh so slightly closer, lips finally making gentle, fleeting contact, but the next words were once again regretfully distanced, "the title entails."
Will licked his dry lips, the feel of Jack's still singing on them, breathing hard, impossibly tempted to capture Jack's lips with his own. Inhibition dropped away and he leaned forward toward that tormenting mouth, but he met only with air. He tried again, and Jack pulled further out of his reach, and then pulled away completely. Will watched him, confused, distracted by enticing red lips and impossibly dark, unfathomable eyes.
"Just not now," Jack said quietly.
***
Will died, and woke up in hell.
At least that's what he was sure had happened, judging by the indescribable pain and blinding light which must surely be an unholy inferno. On the journey down someone seemed to have gagged him with Master Brown's only pair of stockings, because nothing else could compare to that particular flavor.
Will moaned and shifted, trying to gather the strength to raise his arm to shield himself from the evil, evil, /evil/ Caribbean sun.
There was a rustling at his side and something was placed in his hand. Will slit his eyes, trying to find a happy medium between stabbing pain and sight, but could only make out Jack's unmistakable silhouette against the blinding white sky.
"D'you need help sitting up?" someone asked. The tone was far too gentle to be Jack, although it certainly seemed to be coming from the figure above him, and the voice certainly /sounded/ like Jack's…
Will considered sitting up, and felt nauseous.
"No, thank you," he said, trying to figure out how to speak without moving his head at all. "I think I'll be just fine dying where I lay."
"You're not dying, lad," Jack—it must have been Jack—said in the same odd tone. "Experiencing the after-effects of a night well spent is all."
It was a ploy, Will decided. A tool that Jack used to his advantage, like every other thing Jack did. To wit; the sound of gently rustling sails currently hammered unbearably into Will's head, making him want to climb the masts and kill the sails until they were all very very, very very very, very very, very dead. Jack's voice, somehow, did not have the same effect. Will figured it must be a survival trait one must cultivate when living among eternally hung over cutthroats.
"It'll help to drink this," Jack said.
"I don't think I'll be drinking anything ever again, thanks," Will said.
"You'll feel better," Jack said. "Trust me."
Will squinted hard at the pirate once more, and decided it best not to comment. Rather than risking sitting up he decided to try his luck drinking while lying down, and tentatively raised the bottle.
It was plucked from his hand.
"Ah, ah," Jack said, "You'll be wanting the other one."
Will twitched his other hand and found that it, too, had a bottle in it, smaller than the other. He realized it must be the thing that had been placed there not minutes before. Then he realized that the one Jack had just taken had to have been left over from last night's disaster, which he had evidently been clutching while he slept. Then his head throbbed in protest at all the thinking going on.
He decided to throw caution to the wind and took a deep drink of whatever it was Jack had given him. He instantly regretted not sitting up, because the terrible taste made him gag, and consequently sputter, and turn quickly on his side to avoid choking.
"Oh, that's /horrible/," he moaned in between coughs.
"Aye, it is," Jack said. "Drink up."
Will glared at Jack as well as he could while lying at the man's feet, barely able to open his eyes, and slightly covered in unidentified, foul-tasting liquid.
"Are you disobeying your captain?" Jack asked, the prelude to a threat in his voice.
Will grudgingly propped himself up on his elbows and took another pull, trying not to vomit. He managed to finish off the bottle, only gagging twice. When he was done he coughed and cringed and panted, but his head quickly cleared and the pain resided.
Will blinked. Jack handed him another bottle, which he took a swig from before thinking.
"Ugh, /rum/," he spat, glaring at Jack.
"For the taste," Jack insisted, grinning, and offered a hand down to Will.
Will stared at it, thinking very hard. Something in his memory sparked… last night… Will's eyes widened.
Jack nodded seemingly to himself, said, "ah," and withdrew the hand.
"Ah?" Will said, outraged. "That's all you're going to say?" He clamored to his feet and attempted to intimidate Jack with superior height, but Jack just watched him impassively.
"It was an honest mistake, mate," Jack said, smiling pathetically.
"You mistook me for a woman?" Will nearly yelled.
"I mistook you," Jack said clearly, pointing slightly for emphasis, "for a man with significantly broader horizons." He turned, and abruptly left Will to consider this.
After a moment Will followed. Jack had taken up his place at the helm, steering the ship with an air of great importance.
"I have broad horizons," Will insisted.
"Aye," Jack said sincerely, "comparable indeed to any man down a ditch."
"Anyhow," Will forged on through gritted teeth, "I fail to see what my… /horizons/ have to do with… last night."
Jack eyed him appraisingly. He grinned briefly. "Tell me what sodomy is, lad."
Will blinked, thrown at the sudden change of subject. The word wasn't familiar. He supposed it must have something to do with pillars of salt, but thought it wise not to venture that guess. He shook his head, feeling slightly deflated.
Jack swept his arms out and bowed dramatically to Will, grinning all the way, as if this proved his point. He moved to turn back to the ship but Will, furious from getting nowhere with the man, quickly ducked between him and the wheel.
"Stop playing games with me, Jack! Either explain your intentions last night or—"
He froze mid-sentence. Perhaps it had been a mistake, placing himself between a ship's wheel and a pirate captain that lacked all concept of personal space who could entice Will unspeakably with just a well timed look.
"Or what, mate?" Jack said, wicked satisfaction oozing from his words. Will could feel Jack's heat seeping through their clothes and found it impossible to move, to breathe, to do anything but stand there entranced. When Jack placed both hands back on the wheel surrounding Will, he was well and truly trapped.
"Now," he said huskily, his dark eyes completely encompassing Will's view, "as charming as I find your abstemious naiveté, I feel somewhat obligated to enlighten you to all… /possible/ horizons."
They were so close, almost flush from thigh to shoulder, just nearly touching the entire way up. If one of them breathed too deeply their chests would surely brush. Will was doing a lot of deep breathing just then, but Jack seemed to be able to compensate, sure to keep them on the razor edge of contact.
Jack leaned so his lips were at Will's ear, a hair's breath away like everything else. The gentle puffs of Jack's breathing against his ear made Will light-headed, and when Jack spoke, so close Will could feel where they ghosted over the lobe, he felt he would surely faint. "There's more than one way a man can receive pleasure," Jack purred. His beard tickled Will's collarbone as he spoke, each brush sending bright shocks through Will. "The mouth for example," Jack continued, slowly descending down Will's ear and lower, still not touching but sending warm tingling breath everywhere it went, "can have," down the neck, "many," into the hollow where neck met shoulder, "uses," to the tip of the collarbone. Will had no doubts about one particular mouth's many uses, and was eager to discover them firsthand.
Jack paused to let out a long, hot sigh along Will's collarbone. Will gasped and shuddered violently, knees suddenly weak, struggling to keep standing.
Jack stopped there, simply breathing maddeningly on Will's collar. Some part of Will knew that he should be protesting, but that tiny voice faded with each moist breath against his skin. With the last of his melting resolve he managed to gasp, "It's not proper," though it sounded more like a plea than a protest.
Jack looked all the way up at him, eyes wide and impossibly dark. "You left proper behind with the shore, William." He straightened languidly, titled his head just so, never breaking eye contact. Their lips were close now, ghosting together as Jack spoke. "You're a pirate now. As such, you get to experience all of the… /benefits/," Jack pressed oh so slightly closer, lips finally making gentle, fleeting contact, but the next words were once again regretfully distanced, "the title entails."
Will licked his dry lips, the feel of Jack's still singing on them, breathing hard, impossibly tempted to capture Jack's lips with his own. Inhibition dropped away and he leaned forward toward that tormenting mouth, but he met only with air. He tried again, and Jack pulled further out of his reach, and then pulled away completely. Will watched him, confused, distracted by enticing red lips and impossibly dark, unfathomable eyes.
"Just not now," Jack said quietly.
