Title: Religion of a Pirate
Author: Seraphina
Rating: R for non-explicit slash
Pairing: Jack/Will
Disclaimer: I wish
Summary: 450 word vignette Just what is Jack's religion?

Beautiful.
He doesn't like it when I call him that.
Blushing.
Virginal.
Maiden-like.
Nor does he like those.
He doesn't realise that these qualities are admirable to me.
"A trophy! Is that all that I am to you?"
Or perhaps he does know, and that's the problem.
No, the problem lies in the fact that he cannot possibly comprehend the extent of these admirations.
"You must understand; never have you been simply a trophy in this pirate's eyes."
Indeed, never a trophy, but forever an idol.
One could hardly call me a spiritual man, but there is one thing in this life that I would gladly worship 'til the end of my days.
He's laid out before me now; all long, graceful limbs, sharp muscular plains. Worship him with my hands, I do and then again with my tongue.
This old bed has borne witness to many the carnal sin in its time, but tonight, in this moment, it is an alter, and he the chalice. Or dare I say it; the Holy Grail, because quite frankly, it can't get any better than this.
He is writhing; skin glowing with perspiration and the flush of arousal.
He is begging; sheets fisted in strong, calloused fingers.
He is panting; my name tumbling from those lips and if I only have one weakness, it's to hear him calling me in that desperate tone- voice rasping and breath hitching.
He is pillaged.
He is plundered.
He is breached.
He is, "Awe inspiring."
He is, "Perfect."
He is, "Mine." My own, and no one else's. I'd die one hundred times for him, and pray only that there is something even slightly like him on the other side, for that would be my heaven.
And if I look into those pleading eyes, I see a smoky desire that seems to engulf me as he engulfs me.
He is beautiful.
He is blushing.
He is…not quite so virginal and yet still he is maiden-like, but only in a way that is pure and sensual.
Oh, yes, he is all of these things, but he is also my god.
And he is, "Coming!"
He cries out and it is music to my ears. Not even the voices of Odysseus's sirens could reach me through this haze, and it seems such a sin that this should end.
But it does, as all good things must, however, I can take comfort in the fact that every day is the Sabbath when your religion is William Turner.