I'll Show You Eunuch... Cursed Treasure! by Glacis. Rated NC17. No copyright infringement intended and no children allowed. Sidequel to I'll Show You Eunuch! The anti-Disney underbelly of the Pirates of the Caribbean (a teaser).

Will Turner's life changed radically the day Captain Jack Sparrow dropped into it. True, the sword fight, the frisson that went up his spine when Sparrow refused to shoot him, the resigned acceptance when Norrington once again credited his master with Will's hard work, the fear and fight with the invading pirates, the despair at losing Elizabeth, the absolute insanity of breaking Sparrow out of prison when the others refused to help, and the unexpected ride on the main boom when he accepted his fate, ensured that it would be two days he'd never forget.

Even if he tried. With the application of vast quantities of rum. Which netted him no loss of memory, but a staggering pain in his head.

Still, there he was, on a commandeered sloop, a ship of the fleet no less, sole companion to a scraggly, half (or more) mad pirate who was the only hope of finding his kidnapped lady love, struggling to come to terms with the fact that the kind of man he'd hated all his life for killing his father was, in fact, exactly what his father had been.

It was enough to give a man a severe crisis of confidence.

The way Jack kept going on about him being a eunuch didn't help. At all.

The passage to Tortuga was surprisingly uneventful, clear nights and calm days, the wind buffeting the sails; a strange counterpoint to the chaos in Will's mind and the tension in his body. He'd learned patience the hard way, as a boy, lessons he'd not soon forget, but they were hard to follow when his entire being strained to fly like the wind to Elizabeth's side and save her from a horrifying fate at the hand of the dreaded pirates.

"Come on, mate, tell me you're not brooding again! Of all the companions I could've picked to begin such an adventure... and get my SHIP back... I didn't expect such a poetic one, all tortured angst and archangel protectiveness over the fair lady. A fair lady who isn't even yours, I might add. Are you sure you're not a eunuch? All this nobility. 'Tis unnatural."

That was it. The final straw. Whirling on his heel, Will stuck his face an inch from Jack's and bellowed, "I AM NOT A EUNUCH!"

Then lost his breath completely and gasped like a landed fish as Jack stuck his hand down the front of Will's breeches, grasped his prick at the root and ran his fist all the way up, stretching as he went.

"Hm, no, perhaps not," Jack sighed, as his fingers did wicked things to Will's prick. "Not with the way this fine handful's swelling."

"Gahd," Will spluttered. His hands went down, to tear Jack's impertinent hands from his privates, of that he had no doubt. So he was doubly shocked, at himself as well as the scalawag, when instead of forcing those naughty hands away, he pressed them harder against himself.

"Oooh," Jack breathed, eyes widening as a smile caused silver teeth to flash in the moonlight. "Well, if that's the case, never let it be said Captain Jack Sparrow was a man to overlook a moment of opportunity!"

Caught between putting a fist in that smug grin and rubbing up against the scamp like a cat in heat, Will did the last thing he would have expected, and reached over to take Jack's mouth in a kiss.

Jack tasted nothing like the maid up at the Swann mansion. Nor like the serving wench at the pub. Nor even like the hostler's boy at the stable. No, Jack tasted unique, like salt water and salted meat and apples. The gold and silver on his teeth was smooth against Will's tongue, the intriguing texture drawing him in and leading him to explore until he was dizzy with the need for air.

The next thing he knew, rough canvas and coiled rope scraped his back as Jack managed to get them both naked to the waist with an alacrity Will could only admire, even as he was distracted by the cool air on his overheated flesh. His hands wandered down the tanned, sleek chest in front of him as Jack worked away at the fastenings to their breeches. Jack's skin still held the warmth of the sun, and a corner of Will's mind wondered how that was possible, if it was baked in over the years or if it was some magic unique to Jack, whilst the rest of his mind fell down into his trousers and had no urge to ever leave.

Jack was exceptionally good with his hands.

All that airy waving about was a good indication of the elegant movements of which they were capable, and Will was pleased to be treated to a vast array of such movements, most of which left him groaning and a few of which made him scream. Long slender fingers rubbing his balls, sliding his foreskin back and drifting feather-light over the head of his prick, only to firm into a hard calloused tunnel that ran from top to bottom, bottom to top, until Will was a mindless pile of lust under Jack's hands.

Not that Jack got away so easily, himself. Will had many a long night with naught but the pleasure of his strong right hand and vague fantasies of Elizabeth to warm his bed, interspersed with an occasional roll in the hay with the stable boy or a willing lass. He might not have had many other men's pricks in his hand, but he knew what he liked, and he was having an excellent time discovering what made Jack shiver. Not moan, so much, because Jack talked as much when he was out of his head with lust as he did when he was in his normal state, close enough to madness as it was.

If Jack's goal was to make Will scream, Will's goal was to get Jack to shut up.

Hands didn't do it... as enjoyable as it was to pull and rub Jack until he babbled in tongues, French maybe, or exotic exclamations picked up on the streets of some far Eastern port, there was still too strong a thread of composure in Jack's voice. Will pushed down the urgent need for completion and concentrated on destroying that thread.

Sliding out from Jack's hold, Will gave a grin that was as evil as any smirk Jack could produce, stunning Jack into stillness for the necessary moment it took for Will to scramble down Jack's body. A deep breath, a firm grip on those squirming hips to keep from being stuffed to strangulation, and Will opened his mouth wide and swallowed Jack down.

While that got a satisfactory break in the voice, after a moment the verbal torrent continued, and Will rolled his eyes. Flattening his tongue against the front of the prick stretching his cheek, he pushed down, then nibbled up, then swiped the end of his tongue right across the top of Jack's prick. More salt, sweat and a little more, a hint of what was to come. The voice above his head notched up half an octave, and Will chuckled as he slipped the bulk further down his throat.

That move earned him a sharp tug to his hair and a startled yelp, followed by eager hands pushing down on his head as Jack humped up beneath him. Not ready to have it end quite so quickly, Will backed off and wrapped his fist round the base of Jack's prick, sucking gently, easing the pressure as he withdrew.

Jack whimpered like a kicked pup. Will looked up into enormous dark eyes set in a pleading face, and grinned.

"Something you wanted, Jack?"

"You teasing little bastard!" Jack grinned back at him. "If you won't listen to what I want I suppose I'll have to show you, then!"

"How can I help but listen," Will asked plaintively, "since you never stop talking?"

Not that Jack heard him, or if he did he gave no sign, too busy telling Will all the filthy things he was going to do to him, and how much Will was going to enjoy it... not that Will much cared, since Jack was demonstrating a few of those filthy things even as he described them. Will found himself face down on the canvas, arms folded under his head to keep himself from having his face ground into the rough material, as Jack left a trail of stinging bites from the back of Will's neck all the way down to his arse.

Culminating in a sucking bite on his left arse cheek that had Will shouting curses he hadn't used since the last time he burned himself at the forge.

Then Jack did something Will had never imagined, and licked a stripe right up the center of Will's arse, causing Will to swallow his curses and nearly swallow his tongue. Will's eyes closed and his hands clenched the rope beneath him convulsively, his back arching involuntarily to get his arse closer to that wicked, wicked tongue. Jack was STILL talking, telling him how beautiful he was, how deep he was going to go, words punctuated with wet sounds as he probed away at Will until Will thought for certain he was going to go mad.

Before it got to that point, though not by much, Jack took a form of pity on Will, and wrapped his hands round Will's hips, settling into place between Will's spread knees and humping up against him. The feel of the heat of Jack's prick in the place where a moment before Jack's tongue had opened him nearly finished Will, and he moaned like a bitch in heat.

The moan broke as Jack pushed into him. Slowly, a bit at a time, making him feel it, making him wriggle like a trout on a line to take it faster, get it deeper. Will was muttering, or screaming, he couldn't tell over the thunder of his heart in his ears, but Jack paid no mind, keeping his own pace, taking Will as thoroughly as he'd ever taken any treasure.

Once seated, he rested, one hand delving lower to take Will's prick in those tormenting fingers again. When Will was leaking into his hand, Jack muttered something Will couldn't make out into the nape of Will's neck and began to move.

He milked Will expertly as Will bucked between fingers busily working him and prick stuffing him, until all Will knew was the rasp of canvas, the pounding jolting him from his head to his heels, the urging of the hand at his prick and the bite of wind where Jack's heat wasn't blanketing him.

When he thought for certain he wouldn't survive another moment, and knew as certainly he never wanted it to stop, Jack sped up. Pushed in harder, pulled out and shoved back in sharply, edging Will to the point of insanity. With one final deep thrust Jack grasped Will's prick hard and pumped him, and Will gave a scream he could hear echo through the sails as he came hard enough to hurt.

In the moments afterward, as Will lay there trying to remember how to breathe, Jack pumped into him, losing his control completely as he did. At the last, he froze against Will's back, buried as deep in Will's arse as he could get, hands leaving bruises on Will's hips.

Will was gratified to note afterward that Jack hadn't the breath to say a word. Blessed silence followed him into sleep.

Of course, by the next morning, the babbling was back. Although now Will knew how to shut him up, and he wasn't the least reluctant to use his new knowledge.

Every time the demands of wind and sail allowed, he did.

Revelations didn't stop with the jailbreak. They continued, through the confrontations with the renegade crew of the Black Pearl, through the rescue, loss and rescue again of Elizabeth, through near-drowning and fighting for his life against undead cursed pirates and doing stupid things that seemed like the right thing to do at the time.

Elizabeth proved an able and stout-hearted fighter, Jack switched sides at will but always with a plan (even if Will had the damnedest time trying to keep up, and threw his hands up in defeat at trying to figure it out), and Will ended up sharing a brig cell with Jack on the way home to Port Royal in the belly of a schooner.

At least it didn't leak. Much.

The voyage back felt longer than the trip out, no doubt because they were on the way home to a hanging. Probably two. Because much as he'd hate to admit it, and he was much more apt to admit it than deny it now, Will was a pirate. Just like Jack.

Well, just like Jack if Jack were more sane and less canny.

Will watched the hatch fall down in the deck above them, shutting out most of the light, and knew Elizabeth would not be allowed out of her father's sight long enough for a final goodbye. His heart ached, but his mind was oddly at peace. Perhaps it was knowing he'd had his moment of opportunity, and he'd missed it. He knew he'd never get a chance at her again.

Or perhaps it was knowing that, if his life must end, at least it would end with Jack at his side. There was a comfort in that knowledge that brought a half-smile to Will's face as he glanced over at the man who had become his friend.

"What's that for?" Jack asked immediately. "I'm the one who laughs at death; you're the normal one, remember? Or is it knowing you've gained your treasure only to lose her before you've actually had her that's sent you off your head?" He sounded sincerely interested. Will sighed.

"Shut up, Jack."

Will didn't need light to find him; the cell wasn't that big. Didn't need more than the touch of hands on laces and the light push of thigh against thigh to send Jack down to the narrow wooden shelf that served as a cot; a better standard of brig than Will had been thrown into before. It probably should have given him pause that he was able to make such comparisons, but it was simply a sign of how his life had changed since Jack came into it. And not all to the bad, by far.

The brigs and the blood and the stark terror and the rampant madness were balanced by the warmth of Jack's body beneath him. The strength of Jack's arms tightening round his back, and the way Jack's fingers dug into his skin, pulling them together. The salt of Jack's sweat in Will's mouth, and the heat of Jack's arse tightening round Will's prick. The sudden cessation of sound as Jack spurted against Will's belly, and the vise-grip squeezing the life out of Will as he came in return.

The blessed silence, for the short time it lasted, as Will rested in Jack's arms.

The next morning, Will stood next to Jack on the deck of the Dauntless, ready to accept his fate.

Ten minutes later he stood in shocked disbelief as Jack was hauled off between two burly marines, and Will was released to return to his life. As if he could ever return to what he had been before Jack. But Governor Swann had granted him pardon, understanding the foolhardiness of a man in love even as he had stern words of warning against the means Will had taken to rescue Elizabeth.

Will looked to his right, toward the fort, as Jack disappeared in a sea of red uniforms. He looked to his left, toward the hill, as Elizabeth disappeared with her father and Commodore Norrington, closed away from him once again in her ornate carriage. Stared down at his feet, wondering which direction he should follow.

Knew, as surely as he could feel his heart beat, that he would never allow Jack to die, not if there was anything in his power he could do to stop it.

And so he found himself, hat tilted to shade his face from curious onlookers, cape draped over his shoulder to leave his sword-arm free, standing in the parade ground under the hot sun, listening to the reading-out of all Jack's sins.

A very long list.

Will fidgeted.

The sight of a well-known parrot alighting on a banner gave him hope and sent a smile to his lips. Still, the crier droned on. Will fidgeted again.

Looked over his shoulder at the triumvirate of Elizabeth, the governor and the commodore.

Decided he was going to die anyway, so he might as well seize the moment before going down in a blaze of glory.

Stalked up to the steps, told Elizabeth he loved her, then turned tail and ran for the hangman's platform.

Well, he tried to run. The milling crowd impeded his progress significantly. Eventually he bellowed, "Out of the way!" and flung his sword like a javelin at the sturdy timber directly below the trap-door. A moment later, the door gave beneath Jack's feet as Jack took a short drop with a sudden stop, and the sword was there to save him from a broken neck.

The rescue got confused from there. Marines charged the platform, so Will tossed the executioner at them, grinning a bit when the huge man landed square atop the Commodore. One wild swing cut the noose rope, and Jack tumbled out of sight, only to join Will as they ran for the battlements.

Working as the team they'd so quickly become, Will and Jack led the troops on a merry chase, but in the end, the odds were simply too great. Panting lightly from his exertion, feeling like a trapped animal, Will stood back-to-back with Jack and awaited his fate.

The temptation to growl at the governor was immense when he chided Will for his folly, but Will bit his tongue and kept silent. Unfortunately, he could not do the same when Norrington drawled insultingly that Will had forgotten his place. Will bristled.

"My place is right here," he spat, "between you and Jack!"

The commodore moved forward, sword at the ready, only to be stopped in shock as Elizabeth flung herself into the fray, hand seeking and clinging to Will's. Will squeezed back automatically, eyes darting between the proud woman at his side and the still officer staring at them.

Swann ordered the marines to lower their weapons, then pled with them to do so, and finally the ring of steel blades retreated. Norrington stared at Elizabeth, and for an instant, Will saw his heart break in his eyes, before the commodore's usual stoicism overtook the raw emotion.

"Is this truly what you wish?" Norrington asked Elizabeth.

She nodded firmly, saying "yes" without hesitation.

Jack immediately went into a dither, dancing from the commodore to the governor, burbling about loving weddings and raising toasts. With his face an inch from the disgusted Norrington, he said, "I was rooting for you, you know," with such utter sincerity Will knew he was lying through his teeth.

Still circling through the crowd, edging toward the battlements, Jack paused long enough to tell Elizabeth, "It would never have worked between us, my dear."

Elizabeth looked at him with bemusement on her face, but didn't reply. Will bit his lip to hold back inappropriate laughter. For a moment, he really thought Jack would disappear without a word to him, but as always, Jack surprised him.

"Will," he said, and Will turned to look at him, eyes wide with questions. Jack gave him the ghost of a smile, and said, "Nice hat, mate."

So much unsaid in so few words, and Will had no idea how to take it. Before he could react, Jack gave a spectacularly overblown courtier's bow and proclaimed, "You will always remember this as the day you almost--" then fell backward over the wall to the waves below.

Having expected this, Will wasn't surprised, but the marines, Norrington at the fore, rushed to the wall. Will stepped round to the side, bringing Elizabeth, still clinging to his hand, along with him. In the distance, topsails gleaming in the sun, a ship made its way through the waves. Below them, Will could see Jack, cutting through the water, on his way to freedom.

Will watched, silently cheering Jack on, as Norrington and the governor discussed pursuit. He was relieved to hear the governor counsel the commodore to allow the escape, and even more relieved when the commodore agreed. Norrington's abrupt call of his name pulled Will from his reverie.

Elizabeth tried to hold him back. With a gentle smile he told her, "I must face my fate." After seeing them let Jack get away, and knowing Swann's affection for his daughter, Will had an idea his fate wouldn't be nearly as bleak as he'd originally feared.

Norrington raised the sword Will had made for him, nearly shaving Will with it. Will refused to back down.

"This is a fine weapon," the commodore said quietly. "I would expect any man who took such care in his work to treat everything in his life with such attention."

Will blinked at the implied acceptance wrapped in threat, and nodded dumbly. Norrington gave him one last stern look, then turned on his heel and marched off, his marines following in his wake. Will turned to Elizabeth, who was at that moment staring over at her father.

"Is this what you truly want?" Swann asked. "After all, he is a blacksmith."

She turned to Will, eyes alight with a giddy mixture of glee and relief. "No," she contradicted her father, taking Will's hat from his head, "he's a pirate."

Then she kissed him.

Will was too distracted with kissing her back to notice when the governor left. When next he raised his head, they were alone on the battlements. The stones felt unsteady beneath his feet. His head swam.

Strangely enough, he really missed Jack.

The closer the wedding came, the more Will knew he was out of his depth.

It had always been he, of the pair, who understood clearly the way the world worked. Swann had been giving a warning of his own to Will, as much as to his daughter, when he'd reminded Elizabeth that Will was but a simple blacksmith. And much as Elizabeth loved the pirate in his heart, the rest of Will wasn't quite as exciting to her as the brief moments of sheer insanity that had been their pirate adventure. Living in reality was much different from dreams, and Will's life had never been a fairy tale, no matter that he'd somehow ended up with the princess.

Will knew this, even as Elizabeth denied the truth to herself.

One afternoon at the Governor's mansion, Will stood staring out the window at the view of the sea below, as Elizabeth directed servants she'd be losing when she became his wife with the ease of long custom. A movement beside him made him turn his head, to see Norrington now standing at the window as well, staring as Will had at the wide expanse of the Atlantic. They stood in silence for some time.

Eventually, Will asked, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Norrington ignored the question, to ask one of his own. "Having tasted the freedom of the sea, do you miss it?"

Of course he did. Of course he would never admit it to the man who was his rival for Elizabeth's affections; of course he could never admit it to the man who was everything he would never be, and the one who could give Elizabeth everything Will could not.

Including, although he was loath to admit it even to himself, his entire heart.

Will resumed staring out the window, sharing an uneasy silence with Norrington until the man finally left him in peace. The restless movement of the water gave him no answers.

That evening, quite late, Will heard a soft knock at the shutters to the smithy. Wondering who would be needing him so late, he took up a candle and looked out to see Elizabeth, all alone, swathed in a black cloak.

"Good lord!" he exclaimed, opening the door only far enough to draw her inside, shielding her from any curious gaze that might have seen. "What on earth are you doing, Elizabeth? Alone at this time of night in this part of town after what--"

Her mouth on his stopped his panicked run of questions. He nearly dropped his candle.

Elizabeth tasted of sweet tea and mint, the touch of her lips not the least shy. Her tongue traced the line of his lips, then slipped inside his mouth to caress his own. Will felt a rush of arousal that made his limbs tremble so badly he feared he'd fall.

By the time she released him he was dizzy, confused, and hard. Not the way to be in the presence of a lady, even one who would soon be his wife, even one who'd fight by his side as fiercely as any pirate. They'd kissed, often, it was true, but there was a desperation in her kiss this night that made him apprehensive.

"What is it, Elizabeth?" he asked gently.

"Am I losing you, Will?" she asked in return.

He shook his head. "How could you lose me, my heart? I've loved you since I was a boy. You've been my angel since the first time I opened my eyes to see you, standing over me when I thought sure I was dead."

Her expression was unusually somber. "Your angel I may be, but am I your woman as well?"

He had no idea how to answer that, and so gave her the only truth he had. "I love you."

"Prove it," she challenged him, and dropped her cloak. Beneath it she wore only a thin nightshift.

Will gulped, mouth suddenly too dry to talk. If he could have forced words out he would have demanded an explanation, bundled her up and hurried her home, sat her down and listened until she explained to him what she wanted of him. As it was, the only thought in his mind was that the candlelight shone through the fine linen as if she were nude, and he couldn't tear his eyes from her body.

Then she unlaced the shift, shrugged it off her shoulders to pool at her feet, and stepped out of the pile of material to stand inches from him. He could feel the heat of her body through his clothes. It drove him mad.

It was the only excuse he could offer for his behavior. Because, in love or not, one simply did not roger one's wife-to-be four days before the wedding. Yet that's what he found himself doing. With her willing and enthusiastic, if untutored, assistance.

While he was trying to put down the candle without burning down the building and without looking away from Elizabeth, she deftly unlaced his own night robe and pushed it off his shoulders. He placed the candle on the side table as steadily as he could whilst clutching at the rough cotton of his nightclothes.

"Elizabeth," he gasped, and she grinned at him. He swallowed heavily, and tried again. "Elizabeth, we really should wait for--"

"I'm tired of waiting. I need to know now." With that cryptic pronouncement, she pushed him back onto the bed and crawled on after him.

Dimly, Will wondered what Norrington would make of Elizabeth's forward actions, but by then she'd straddle his hips, her thighs like silk against his skin, and placed her hands on his chest, rubbing her palms against the muscles there and humming under her breath. She leaned down to kiss him, her hair brushing against his face, trailing along his chest, causing her body to press against his, and he forgot how to think altogether.

There was some good to be had from the strenuous activity Elizabeth favored, for he found little resistance when he pushed up into her. Knowing her so well, he knew she was a virgin, but there was no blood, and no pain, when she settled down onto him. She rode him slowly, feeling her way, as he arched beneath her, head digging into the pillow as he bucked up, heels digging into the mattress for leverage.

Giving into the pleasure drowning him, Will forced his eyes open to watch Elizabeth's face. Her eyes were wide, her mouth open as she panted, her cheeks flushed from heat. Her fingers clenched on his shoulders and her hips shifted restlessly beneath his hands as they moved together. He struggled to sit up, mouth skimming one full breast in a worshipful kiss. It was the culmination of a lifetime of dreaming, or so it should have been.

It was only as she shuddered against him that he realized, when he'd dreamed, he'd dreamed of marrying her, not bedding her.

It was only as he shuddered into her that he realized it wasn't Elizabeth's name on his lips. It was Jack's.

It took less than a heartbeat for his dream to crumble. She stilled atop him, hair sticking to her skin, mouth open now in shock rather than passion. He didn't know whether to thank her or apologize, knew anything he said would be wrong, and so lay there and stared right back up at her. He did know that the moment he thought he'd be feeling like the king of the world, he wanted only to curl up and die.

He only realized there were tears coming from his eyes, and not hers, when she bent and kissed the salt from his cheek.

"Now I know," she whispered. "It's all right, Will. Shh, it's all right."

It felt fundamentally wrong that she should be the one comforting him, and he tried to tell her so. She placed her fingers against his lips, stifling his words.

"It's not our choice, where our hearts take us," she told him tenderly, not lashing him with scorn as he felt she really ought. "I needed to know, and now I do."

That was the third time she'd said that, and he had no idea what she meant. "Know what?" he croaked out through her fingertips, his voice sounding rusty to his ears.

"If I loved you, or the thought of you. The truth of the man over the idea of the pirate. I do love you, Will," she smiled, and it hurt him to see the pain behind it, "but as a friend, as a fellow adventurer, as a good man. Not as a woman should feel for her lover."

He lay there in awkward silence, at a complete loss, as she slipped away from him, gathering up her shift and cloak, pulling her hair over her shoulder and stepping into her shoes. He grasped at the bedclothes and pulled them up over his lap, hiding the evidence of their activities. He couldn't watch her walk out of his life. But he wasn't sure he had any choice in the matter.

He wasn't even sure he wanted to have such a choice. Because he wasn't sure he could make it. So it was left for Elizabeth to be the strong one between them, and face the truth. She turned to him and kissed him, once, softly, then smiled at him again, and walked out the door into the darkness.

It struck him that it was three in the morning in the poorer part of Port Royal, and letting her walk all the way up the hill to the mansion on her own was an incredible risk. Grabbing his breeches, stuffing his feet into his shoes, he took up his hatchet and knife, and followed her out.

She was waiting for him at the end of the street. He gave her an abashed grin when she looked over at him. The grin she gave him in return was easier than any expression he'd seen on her face all night, and it gave him hope that, at the least, the friendship they'd forged would survive.

The next few months were forever after a haze in Will's memory. The interview with the governor, who treated him with more kindness and pity than Will had any right to expect; the first time he crossed paths with Norrington, and the commodore looked at him so searchingly Will thought perhaps the man could see everything he and Elizabeth had done; days spent working the forge until he was exhausted enough to sleep without dreaming. Then dreaming anyway, endless nights where Elizabeth walked away from him, sword in hand, disappearing into the mist, and Jack laughed and danced, always just out of reach.

His master took one drink to many and drowned in his rum. Will found himself completely alone, and concentrated on work to keep himself sane. It was a near thing, between the looks from his neighbors, the silence from the hill, and the bloody unending dreams.

Eleven weeks after Elizabeth's clandestine visit, in church that Sunday, the banns were read for her wedding to Norrington. Will didn't remember walking home afterward. He couldn't forget the look on her face as she stood between her father and the commodore; serenity, underlain with a restlessness he knew all too well. He wondered how Norrington would handle it when she ran, for run she would.

His dreams that night were gentler, but ended the same. Elizabeth, gone. Jack, gone. Nothing left but the mist and the sound of the sea.

It was a situation that could not continue without something breaking. Before it reached the point where Will did just that, fate intervened.

Three days before the wedding, Will walked into his forge to find more than the donkey he expected. Jack leaned against the anvil, fetchingly posed, one hand on his hip, the other lazily stroking a pair of tongs.

Will was instantly hard, and instantly confused. Whilst the arousal was normal at thoughts of Jack, the confusion told Will for once it was real, not a dream.

"Please tell me you're not on the run from the law," Will greeted him.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Not this time, mate. This time, I'm on the lookout for a good man, and a good pirate. Know any offhand?" He grinned widely, teeth glinting, but Will shook his head, too exhausted from life lately to join in the teasing.

"I don't think I'm much of either," he admitted.

"Nonsense," Jack informed him. "You've only had a crisis of faith. What you need is a good swift kick to remind you there's more to life than work and lost treasure. Well, a good swift something, anyway." He moved over to invade Will's space, face so close it blurred before Will's eyes. "And I know just what you need, mate," he purred. "Not swift at all, no, not at all. Going to take my time, I am. You don't need a girlfriend, and you don't need that treasure you've been obsessed with so long; she's not what you need. I know exactly what you need."

Losing his patience at the temptation teasing him, Will pled, "Then do it already!"

Jack swayed back, eyes widening comically as he smirked, one hand fluttering to alight against his chest. Will clenched his jaw and glared for a moment before giving it up as a bad deal and getting on with it himself. Taking hold of Jack's shoulders, Will pulled him into a kiss.

It was the first time the world felt right since the last time Will had kissed him. Jack participated wholeheartedly, chuckling into Will's mouth and coaxing an answering smile from Will when he broke for air.

His smile went cockeyed when Jack's hands went directly to his breeches.

"Oh, now this, this I've been missing!" Jack continued to croon but the words were so much nonsense as far as Will was concerned, given that his brain had turned to kelp with the first steady stroke of those wicked fingers on his prick.

Jack didn't bother undressing them both, not that Will paid any mind, but in retrospect it was the intelligent thing to do, not knowing if the commodore's men might come knocking at any time. All Will knew was that his breeches were around his knees, Jack's hand was up under his shirt playing with his nipples, and Jack's head was under the tail of his shirt, greedily sucking away at his prick.

Between the sheer excitement of it being Jack who was doing this to him, and the fact that it had been some time since Will had even touched himself much less have anyone else touch him, it didn't take long for him to spend. His hands held weakly to Jack's shoulders as Jack drank him down, Jack's long fingers kneading Will's arsecheeks like a cat, speeding Will's complete dissolution.

There was a moment of hilarity as Jack fought free of the entangling shirt, then Jack was kissing the laughter from Will's mouth, the taste of his tongue salty and earthy and wholly Jack. Will's head fell back as Jack nuzzled from his lips to his jaw, then down his throat into the neck of his shirt, all the time stroking and soothing Will's prick with one hand and reaching round to poke at his hole with the other. Will didn't know which end was up, until he found himself draped on his belly over the anvil, holding on for dear life as Jack nudged his thighs apart and worked his prick deep into Will's arse.

It must have been some time for Jack, too, because he was humping hard and out of control practically as soon as he was seated. Muttering "my Will" over and over as he pounded into Will, Jack fucked him as if his life depended on it. Will could do naught but hold on and struggle for breath as Jack suddenly froze, then pushed deeper than ever into him before flooding him.

With a babbling sigh, talking to the bitter end, Jack collapsed over Will's back. Will finally caught a deep breath, the movement pushing Jack's shrinking prick out of Will's arse. Gripping the edges of the anvil, he lifted both his own and Jack's dead weight, then turned and put his arms out, catching Jack before he could slide off onto the floor. Jack wasn't much help, grinning at him goofily and clutching hold of Will's arms, pulling Will right over on top of him.

Not that Will was in any hurry to move.

For the first time in weeks, all felt right with the world, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep. Unfortunately, he wasn't sure that if he did, he might not wake up alone. And that wasn't acceptable.

"What now?" he murmured in Jack's ear, doing a bit of nuzzling himself.

Jack hummed tunelessly for a moment, then said, "Whatever you please, my good man. My ship is at your command. Well," he pulled back and looked Will in the eye seriously, "not actually at your command, since it's under my command, and it's not leaving my command again if there's anything I have to say about the matter, but since I'm under your command, or at least at the will of your whim, then in a way, it is under your command. As long as your command leads us somewhere in the vicinity of Tortuga, and includes as many opportunities to pilfer, pillage and sack as possible. Now," he added kindly, as Will was no doubt looking as pole axed as he felt, "get some sleep. You obviously need it."

Feeling Jack's arms wrap tightly around him, Will wrapped his own as securely around Jack, and closed his eyes. Even unconscious he wasn't letting Jack get away. Not this time.

The last thing Will heard as he drifted away was a faint, rollicking voice singing in his ear, "We're rascals, scoundrels, villains and knaves, drink up, me hearties, yo ho... We're devils and black sheep -- really bad eggs... drink up, me hearties, yo ho!"

the end