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Second Chances	By : Chrysanthemum Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Slash - Male/Male > Jack/Will Views: 7774 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
Chapter Five
Jack
A cold, sharp edge digs painfully into my belly, but the fiery agony of being roughly breached by a cock that would be a stretch even were I prepared drives out all but the faintest thought of that slight discomfort. I seal my lips against the scream fighting to escape, trying to relax enough to make this even a little more comfortable, but it's not much use. The pain is excruciating. It's been a long time since I felt worse, if indeed I ever have. But I grit my teeth and bear it as best I can, hating the whimpers and grunts that break from my throat against my will. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow. I've endured storms and shipwrecks, swords and shot through my chest, the near loss of limbs. I've lived with a broken heart and a wounded soul for nigh on ten years now. I can endure this. I can live with a little more damage.
For some reason that escapes me � maybe I'm hoping to distract myself, maybe I just can't help it � I open my eyes, looking around at the men of whom no few had once been proud to be called my crew and even, at times, my friends. They're all laughing, drinking, cavorting around and generally having a fine time. Hoots and catcalls fill the air; when they catch me watching, several wink at me and make suggestive motions, leering.
And in their midst � in the place of honor, it would seem � is Will. He's looking straight at me.
And he's laughing.
The glee on his face turns my stomach and chills my heart. I know he has no reason to care and, indeed, plenty reason to care less � but it's one thing to dislike a man and quite another to laugh at his rape. I fight down another burst of pain and nausea, nearly overwhelmed, and try to keep from cringing at the coldness of Will's eyes. This cuts me to the quick; from this I know I'll never recover-
And then he steps forward, grinning as his hand strays to his fly and he calls out, "Come on, Twigg! You've taken long enough. It's my turn."
I scream.
Will's scent surrounds me, his body presses up against my back, his voice sounds in my ear � "Jack!" And though I vowed not to struggle, because they'd just overpower me and have their way in the end � no use in wasting my strength and giving them more amusement � I can't help it now. I wrench myself out of his arms, leaping away from him, and start to run-
-and wake up fully and find myself in my cabin, a few paces from the bunk, naked and trembling.
"Jack?"
I turn. Will is half in and half out of bed, watching me uncertainly. When our eyes meet, he gets up and starts walking toward me. "Jack, are you all right? You had a nightmare-"
"Don't touch me." The words come out without my willing it; nor do I will myself to step quickly away from his outstretched hand. The hurt on his face brings me back to myself a little; I can't cause him pain without explanation, despite the leftover nightmare panic still trampling over most of my ability to think clearly. "I'm sorry � I � dreamt about... you know. And..." oh, God, can I even say it? The panic comes back full force. I have to go, to get out of here now, have to go go go go go go � but I manage to choke the next words out, though they sound more accusing than they should: "You were laughing."
Just saying the words brings the dream back. Will's upset face dissolves into a sneering, cruel expression, and as he steps forward the nightmare words ring in my ears again � "It's my turn!" I can't stay here any longer. I'm going to be sick. Panic gives me the energy to turn, to run, and before he's finished calling my name I've slammed the door behind me.
A few shuddering steps later, my legs give out. I crumple to the floor, curled in on myself, shaking violently and just trying to breathe. How could I have trusted him? Hadn't I learned my lesson? You only let people see so much, and giving them your heart is going too far. He's seen me for what I am. He's seen my weakness, seen how lost I am. What reason does he have to stay now?
And he was laughing. Oh, God...
For the second time tonight � the second time in at least seven years � I feel tears welling in my eyes. I'm too bone-deep weary to fight it. Giving in, I let myself cry.
*****
Will
The sound of the door slamming echoes in the stillness of my head. For a moment I don't think or feel anything but blank shock and hurt. Did he really say that? Did he-
No, he couldn't have meant it. "Don't touch me." He couldn't have... And the accusation in his voice, his eyes... he was still caught in the nightmare, that's all. If I go to him, if I calm him down and bring him back to the here and now, he won't push me away again.
The fact that I still can't make myself move shows how much I really believe that.
He dreamt of me laughing at what they did to him. Laughing! I would never... but for all I did to help him I might as well have sat by and laughed, mightn't I? Oh, God. I raise a hand to my head, trying to rub away the ache building there. Even if he loves me, can he ever forgive me for that night?
But just sitting here won't do anything. If I don't find him and try to help him now, I'll be guilty twice over. So I find a pair of breeches � no telling whether they're his or mine in the dim light, but it doesn't really matter � and slip them on. I take a blanket off the bunk before venturing out into the other room.
For a moment I think that he's not in here, that in his panic he ran out on the deck. But then I catch sight of him on the floor by his desk, curled into a ball, arms wrapped around himself. My heart seizes up. I almost run to him, but hold back, frightened of upsetting him further. Instead I call his name once, quietly. His head snaps up, his eyes focus blearily on my face, and then I am running to him and he is uncurling, his arms extended toward me, and I reach him and drop to the floor. We cling to each other desperately, the embrace an apology before we both say "I'm sorry" at the same time.
His cheeks are damp against my chest, and with a shock I realize that he's been crying. God... I hold him tighter, trying not to cry myself, to find the courage to say what I need to say. Finally, "Jack, I-" A long pause. I force the words past the lump in my throat. "You must hate me. I � don't know how I could ever apologize."
"What 'ave ye got t'pologize for?" He pulls back and peers at me with a creased brow.
"I stood there � and � watched what they did to you. I didn't try to help you at all... I just... stood by-" I can't look at him anymore.
But his voice is soft, if pained, when he sighs, "Oh, Will," and his hands are gentle when they turn my chin back toward him. When our lips meet and he kisses me sweetly, I know that for some strange reason I never needed to apologize at all.
Almost roughly he says, "An' wha' could ye have done, love? Anythin' ye tried would only 'ave ended up wi' both o' us gettin' hurt."
"But still-"
"William. Barbossa was out fer me. He wouldn't 'ave let ye save me from it."
"That doesn't mean that it was right to stand by and do nothing! And � you can't say that it didn't hurt you, Jack! You dreamed-"
"That had nothin' t' do wi' ye standin' by," he interrupts, his voice shaking a little.
"Then what did it have to do with? It seemed pretty clear to me."
He hesitates. Finally he says, "I... I want t' tell ye, love, but-"
I understand. I won't say it doesn't hurt to think that he still can't tell me something so obviously important, but I understand. "It's all right." We hold each other for a moment longer before I notice that he's shivering. "You're cold." Now I remember the blanket, dropped and forgotten by the door. I retrieve it and wrap it around his shoulders. "Come on, let's get back to bed."
Quiet and subdued, he follows me into his room. We climb into his bunk, curling around each other. He is still tense and shaking slightly; I rub his back, trying to calm him, but it doesn't seem to help much. Suddenly he begins to speak. "How much d'ye know 'bout me an' Barbossa?"
"I know that he was your first mate and that he mutinied against you," I say carefully. This may be more of a touchy subject than I'd thought. "I gathered that you and he were... close, once."
He snorts. "Don't have t' be polite wi' me, boy. We were lovers. We fucked. That's what ye meant, aye?"
I almost flinch, but hold it back. "Yes."
"D'ye know why I hate him so much?"
"He stole the Pearl."
"Aye..." For a moment he says no more. I give him a squeeze, trying to be reassuring. Whatever he's got to say, it's clear that he's finding it tremendously hard to say it.
At last he speaks again. "Will, I'm sorry. ...This � is hard."
"I know." I press a kiss to his forehead. "Tell me when you're ready, love-" (I only pause an instant to think how strange, and how very right, that word feels rolling off my tongue) "-and don't feel like you have to say anything you don't want to."
His eyes actually tear up at that; before I can worry I've done something wrong he kisses me, quickly and deeply. As soon as our lips part he begins to speak, the words coming rapidly and in a low voice. "I met him soon after I decided to quit merchantin' an' go pirate. He was on th' first ship I signed with... He was... I don't wan' t' say different, then. He was the same then as he was when ye met 'im. But he seemed differen'. He seemed... kind. We got t' be friends. An' when I was feelin' lonely for a different sort o' company one night... well... he offered � He taught me how to love a man, Will. An' he helped me when I got in trouble, an' comforted me when I wasn't feelin' so well, an'... an' let me rely on him." The disgust in Jack's voice as he says the word "rely" surprises me. I'm not as surprised by his anger when he continues, "I loved him. An' I thought he loved me. He told me he did. An' for all I know, he did for a while. Not long though." He snorts. "When I got the Pearl, an' he was my first mate � I thought I was living a dream. O' course I told him where th' Isla de Muerta was when he asked! An' then... well, he mutinied, an' in front of th' whole crew he told me jus' what a fool I'd been t' think he could feel a thing for me."
For the first time since we got back into bed, Jack makes eye contact with me. His tumultuous gaze pierces me through and through. "I promised myself I'd never let anyone do that to me again," he says with slow intensity, pronouncing each word carefully. "I swore I'd never give anyone th' chance. Savvy?"
I savvy, and my heart breaks. So he's going to retreat from me again now, he's going to reject me. After all this... God, Jack, you wouldn't � would you? I swallow, fighting tears and the urge to scream, to shake him, to kiss him until he changes his mind, anything-
"An' then you came along, an' damn ye if ye didn't somehow make me change my mind."
That was so far from what I'd expected him to say that for a moment I don't notice that he's still speaking. "...wanted ye t'know because... ye know how I've been. That was why. Well, that an'... I never thought ye'd love another man before th' Second Comin', love." He winks, managing a small grin.
"Neither did I," I admit somewhat dazedly, still trying to breathe after having my heart shattered and put back together within the last forty seconds. I kiss him on the forehead. "But I did."
"Mmm..." he says in a very agreeable way, and brings his mouth to mine.
Suddenly a kiss that began very slowly and gently grows fast, heated, desperate. "Make love to me, Will," Jack murmurs against my lips before diving back in. Heat flares in my groin � and my chest. That he would trust me, love me, enough to confess something like that after such a nightmare and then offer himself for such an intimate act... I fall a little more in love with him in this instant. And I wish I could find some way to show him that my love and trust are equal to his. I've seen uncertainty in his eyes too many times tonight, and now I think I'm starting to understand why � and how deep it runs. I desperately want to show him that his fears are unfounded.
That's when the idea strikes me. One part of my mind � and my body � flinches sharply from it and remembered pain, but another is intrigued. I think of Jack under me, the look on his face, the way he came so hard that I thought he'd burst something... despite myself, my erection throbs. And I so want to show him that he need not fear my betrayal...
"Jack," I murmur as he kisses along the side of my neck, "I want you to make love to me."
He grows very still. Pulling back, he looks seriously into my eyes for a long moment, then asks, "Are ye sure?"
"Yes."
"Quite sure?"
"Yes."
"Will."
"Jack!..."
He sighs. "I don' wan' t' do anythin' ye're not ready fer, love. An' ye weren't ready three hours ago."
"Well, my mind's been changed, all right? Jack, I love you. I want this. I swear I wouldn't ask for it if I didn't think I was ready." He doesn't answer, just looks at me measuringly for long enough that I start to get nervous. "Unless � I mean, if you don't � don't you want to?"
In an instant he's kissing me so hard that I nearly smother. "Of course I bloody want to," he gasps in my ear after a few moments. "I jus' wan t' make sure ye aren't doin' this for th' wrong reasons."
"I'm doing this because I love you and I want you."
Another long, quiet moment of staring into each other's eyes. Carefully, softly, Jack leans in to kiss me. "Ye jus' tell me if ye wan' t' stop, savvy?" he asks, separating our lips by the space of a breath.
"Yes." I pull him back to me, trying to show him with lips and hands that it's all right, I'm all right, and I feel myself hardening despite the way my gut is twisting. His tongue thrusts between my lips and withdraws, once, twice, three times, and recognizing the analogy, I moan and clutch at him even though I'm nervous. We kiss and kiss, our hands stroking, caressing chests, arms, flanks. I find all of the sensitive spots from earlier, remembering some and rediscovering others; he gasps as my fingers trace his collarbone, squirms when I pinch his nipples, moans when I stroke the hollow in the small of his back, and finally, writhing under my touch on the arch of his right hip, pushes me onto my back, rolls on top of me, and pins my wrists to the bed.
"You � are too much," he gasps, grinning as he thrusts slowly against me. I choke on my reply when he leans down and swirls his tongue around my nipple; I moan, arching upward. Time dissolves as his mouth plays over my chest and belly, wandering here and there, teasing at times, at others causing such intense pleasure that I forget to breathe, lost in the waves of heat and tension crashing through me, the aching heaviness in my groin. At some point, though I can't remember it, he took off my breeches; suddenly his mouth touches my erection. He engulfs me, taking me completely in a way that I've never experienced before. The feeling is so intense that I nearly scream; I'm not sure whether I should be thankful or disappointed when he stops.
His hands on me, pushing gently, his voice urging, "Turn over, love." I do, and suddenly the uneasy feeling in my stomach is back. But he doesn't do anything alarming yet; instead he slides up my body, one hand tracing my spine, to settle in warm against my side, half-on and half-off of me. Carefully he brushes my hair off of the back of my neck � his hair tickles my shoulder blade, sending warm tingles through me, as he shifts � and then his lips touch the nape of my neck. I gasp, my blood turned to fire for an instant.
Jack kisses slowly down my spine, his lips never straying from their path although his hands wander my arms, my shoulders, my hips, my back. His mouth is scorchingly hot; the shock of chill on the drying moisture he leaves behind makes me shiver and squirm. No one has ever undone me like this before. I want... I want... God, I'm not even sure anymore. More. I want more of this, more of Jack and whatever he chooses to give me. It seems an age before his tongue is lapping at the top of my buttocks, and I'm so far gone that I can't even tell whether I'm nervous or not. I comply almost numbly when he says, "Put a pillow under your stomach, love." It raises my behind into the air in what has to be an absolutely lewd pose. His hands spread me open; I shudder and wait, definitely tense now, for the first invading finger-
And to my utter shock feel his tongue swirling damply and delicately around my hole. It's so unexpected, and it feels so outrageously good, that suddenly I'm coming hard, moaning into the mattress.
When I've (mostly) stopped shaking, he lifts his head long enough to say, "Like that, do ye, love?" For once I don't mind the smugness dripping from his voice.
I'd like to say something more intelligent than "God, Jack," but I have neither the available energy nor the words to express my answer in any other way. He chuckles, and then I feel his tongue again, circling and pushing gently. The feeling is incredible. I have no choice but to give myself over to it, and within minutes I'm well on my way to being hard again.
It's then that he actually presses his tongue into me, just a little. I gasp and tense � more surprised than discomforted, but he withdraws and goes back to what he was doing before. A little later, though, he tries again; this time I'm more ready for him, and he doesn't pull back, instead thrusting into me slowly but rhythmically. It feels strange, but not unpleasant; when he wiggles the tip of his tongue inside of me, it becomes distinctly pleasant. I moan, trying not to push back against his face, and feel his smile.
I didn't notice him getting the oil, but abruptly his tongue is gone and something slick, thinner but harder, less yielding, replaces it. And oh, maybe this is going to be a problem. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. Because the press of his finger brings back memories, and despite myself I feel my muscles clench to keep him out, my gut twisting anxiously. "Relax, love," he says soothingly, and kisses the small of my back. For a moment I do, and he presses in a little more, but then oh God I remember other fingers pushing into me against my will, the humiliation, the pain-
"You've got to relax."
"I'm trying." I really am. But somehow this too like that night all those years ago. "Jack � wait." My voice is strained, tense.
He freezes immediately. "Do you want to stop?"
"No. ...Yes. No." I take a shuddering breath. "Can you give me a minute?"
"As long as you need, love. Take your time." His voice is calm and caring, understanding; it loosens something that's been wound tightly inside of me since this started. With that subtle release comes clearer thought. Do I want to stop, really? No. I want to do this for him. I want to show him that I trust him this much, that we have a bond that past pain can't touch. But I know that I simply can't do it like this. As much as I try to remember that this is Jack and I'm safe, this is only triggering bad memories.
Then the thought strikes me. "Jack � can we � can I � I want to see you."
Almost before I've finished speaking his finger is gone. "Of course." One of his hands cups my hip from behind, pulling backward slightly; the other squeezes my arm gently as I settle on my back. He slides up the bed and lies on his side next to me a little distance away, touching me only to caress me lightly on my shoulders and face. He watches me with no little concern and sympathy, and as I meet his eyes it hits me � he knows. He understands exactly what I'm feeling, maybe better than I do. And the look on his face leaves no doubt that he's going to stick with me through this, whatever I decide I want to do. I'm grateful that he leans in to kiss me then so that I have time to blink the tears away before he can see them. He'll take care of me. Jack will take care of me. I don't have to be afraid.
There is a pause after he pulls back. He's still barely touching me, and I reach around his back and drag him down on top of me. His weight is somehow reassuring rather than restrictive or frightening. Carefully he shifts, brushes his mouth over my forehead. "You sure, love?"
Deep breath, and I reach up to cup his cheek. "Yes."
He holds my gaze seriously for another long moment, worry still flaring in his eyes, but he doesn't say anything; he only kisses me tenderly in the hollow of my collarbone as his finger enters me gently again. This time it's easier; when the fear returns I look at him, remind myself that it's Jack doing this to me, that he'll take care to not hurt me. "Relax," he breathes and finally I do; the ease with which his finger slips completely into me then is surprising. I'd expected pain, but it doesn't come; his finger feels strange inside of me, but not even really uncomfortable. As he slides it in and out of me slowly, the friction starts to create something almost approaching pleasure. Real pleasure jolts redly through me when he slides down and licks a hot, wet stripe up the underside of my half-erection, then draws it into his mouth. I cry out, bucking up against his tongue and down onto his finger, almost instantly swelling to full hardness in that amazingly talented mouth. He caresses my length with lips and tongue, thrusting into me all the while until the white-hot pleasure of his mouth merges with the strangeness of his probing finger and I can no longer tell one from the other. His mouth... God... I ache with missing it as he releases my erection to murmur, "Another finger now, love," in a tone that's half statement, half question. I nod my assent, and keep my eyes on his face as he pushes in with two fingers.
Now I feel a stretch, a little pain; I wince in growing discomfort as he circles and spreads his fingers inside of me, opening me further. "Relax, Will," he soothes, still patient. "Take a deep breath an' just relax... good lad, there ye go. Keep breathin' is all. I'll make ye feel real good, I promise." As if to prove his words, he curls his fingers on an inward thrust and hits something inside of me that makes pleasure shoot up my spine, so intense that my vision actually goes black for a moment. I regain my sight just long enough to see him grin; then he begins to thrust in a slow rhythm, hitting that spot again and again, and I am overwhelmed. I can't see or hear or think; I can only feel, gasping as each wave of sensation rushes over me, and somehow I find myself on the brink of orgasm but far from actually coming. I understand, suddenly, why he reacted like he did under me earlier, why he wanted me in him so badly... God, if it can be like this I can't imagine why I was ever afraid of it.
At some point he starts using three fingers. I'm too far gone to mind the slight burn, and anyway it dissolves in moments under the onslaught of pleasure as he keeps massaging my insides at the same time as he takes my erection into his mouth again. It takes me a while to realize that I'm begging. "Jack please � please Jack God oh please � do it please Jack need you please I � can't hold back please-" and then he's kissing slowly up my belly and chest, his hand slipping out of me. He rolls us so that he's on his back with me straddling his thighs, both of us fumbling in the bedsheets. I find the oil before he does, open it, and nearly spill it as his hand curls around my erection.
"God, Jack-" And then I take revenge, tormenting him in the same way as I ready him. He moans deep in his throat, his hips rising into my touch as his head falls back, and my mouth goes dry. I don't think I've ever seen anything so incredible in my life as this man bared to my eyes and my touch, dazed with the pleasure I'm giving to him, open to me, waiting to take me. The oil corked and set aside, I let him guide me into position. He mouths "love you" as I start to sink down on him, smiling, and the emotion that fills me leaves me no choice but to lean forward and kiss him dreamily as he takes me.
At first I feel only pressure. I inhale, exhale, try to relax more, and he's pushing slowly into my tight entrance. Then something gives suddenly and he is deep in me � and oh God, the pain that stabs through me is sharp enough to steal my breath. Even with his careful preparation, this hurts. I freeze. I haven't got a choice; my muscles have cramped and clenched so hard that I can't move.
Jack's hand strokes my hip gently, bring my awareness at least slightly to something other than the pain. "Just relax, love. Hurts more when ye tense. C'mon, breathe wi' me � in... out. Good lad. Again, deep breaths. In... Out. Ye're doin' fine, love." Slowly I manage to relax enough to move again, but my legs are suddenly weak and they crumple instead of holding my weight. I give a low moan as Jack slides fully into me, the pain of the stretch increasing. Jack gives an abortive, convulsive jerk and a choked gasp, his hand tightening on my hip. When I can get my eyes to focus again, I see that despite the concern in his eyes, they're nearly black with desire. But concern is clearly foremost; as he steadies me carefully, he says, "We kin still stop if ye want."
"I think I do." I want to say I'm sorry. We got so far, and now I'm backing out... but I'm not quite sure how to apologize. "But � give me a minute? Just moving hurts. ...Christ, Jack, how do you do this?"
"I'm a bit more used t' it than ye are," he answers with a low chuckle. "'Seasier when ye're not so � tight."
Flash of pure lust in his face as he says the word "tight," and I reach down to cup his cheek. "You're liking this, though."
His eyes widen, and for a moment he looks really horrified. "Not your pain." His voice is faintly hoarse. He reaches up to cup my face in his hands. "Never your pain, Will. Never."
I swallow. Did he honestly think...? "I know. I..." After a moment I try again. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean... that."
"Ye had me right scared for a minute, love," he murmurs, stroking my cheeks, pushing my hair back from my face. "Don't ye ever think-"
"I won't. I know." Turning my head, I kiss his right palm, then his left.
After a moment he says almost grudgingly, "But aye, it feels good. I can't help that, love."
I remember how it felt to push inside him, to have him yielding to me and gripping me. Heat flares in my gut briefly, and I have to shake myself out of the memory. "I know." I smile at him, gently. "I don't exactly blame you."
"Rememberin'?" he asks with a sly smile. "Oh, don't look surprised, I saw th' look on yer face jus' a moment ago. An' think, Will, if ye liked doin' that t' me, imagine it tighter, hotter..." Something in me rouses at his words; warm tingling starts to spread through my belly. He studies me for a moment. "Ye like it when I talk t' ye like that."
"Yes..." I admit, my stomach dropping at the gleam in his eye.
"Well then." His grin is slow, seductive, and it makes my heart beat twice as fast as it was a moment ago. As his hands slide slowly up my sides, he asks, "Shall I tell ye just how incredible ye feel?" The words send a shocking jolt straight to my groin. It feels almost as if he touched that sweet spot deep inside of me, but he hasn't moved. For an instant I feel no pain, not even discomfort � just liquid fire coursing through me, and I have to bite back a gasp.
"Will." The quiet seriousness of Jack's voice brings my attention back to him. "Ye have t' give me an answer, love." His hands are resting on my shoulders, his thumbs in line with my collarbone; he squeezes gently. "Tell me this is okay."
It takes me a moment to understand what he's really saying: I wanted to stop. This isn't exactly stopping. But I want so badly to do something for him, to let him have me as he desires, and this seems to be something he wants to do too. Besides, heat is still pulsing in my chest and hips, and right now I don't think I mind if we keep going. "It's okay. I'll tell you if it starts being not okay."
"Good." He pauses. Then, "Ye're so tight, Will," he begins, meeting my eyes in a way that makes me unable to tear my gaze from him though I know I'm blushing. "Very tight. No woman could ever feel like you do, love. An' ye're hot. An' slick, but not so slick that I couldn't feel ye all the way in..." He breaks off, leaving me hanging breathlessly in the pause. I couldn't say what it is about hearing him talk like this that makes me sweat and start to ache for him to touch me � I can't say why embarrassment at hearing him say these things about me isn't putting a damper on my growing arousal � but whatever it is, I think it's a very good thing. Despite the fact that his penetration still stings, I feel the heavy tingling in my groin that signals a returning erection.
"Ye feel 'squisite, love," Jack murmurs. "'Slike someone's wrapped my cock in hot silk an' put their mouth on it on top o' that. D'ye know I can feel every little tremble of yer insides?" I quiver a little at that; he gasps, and I actually feel his erection jerk inside of me. But rather than discomforting, it's suddenly erotic, giving me another little jolt of excitement. "I wan' t' fuck ye," he says suddenly, with a force that's somehow almost tender. "I'm sorry if ye don't wan' t' hear it, but God, Will, I wan' t' take ye till ye scream wi' th' joy of it. Ye feel so good I wan' t' jus' fuck ye, however ye like, slow an' gentle or fast an' hard, an' someday when you're ready I will, love-" he trails off in a moan as I shudder, and when his hand slides down my belly and coils around my erection the pleasure that surges through me is no longer really a surprise.
"P'r'aps ye be enjoyin' yerself now, though?" he asks with a grin, and I laugh and lean down to kiss him hard. Then he squeezes and pulls up my length just so, and I cry out, bucking forward into his hand. The movement makes him slide out of me a little; as my hips move back he pushes in again, and I nearly freeze as I realize that the pain is gone. There's discomfort, but the sharp, paralyzing hurt of earlier has disappeared. I rock forward and back again slowly, experimentally; Jack breaks the kiss with a moan. "Less ye want me t' make good that promise now, love, ye may wan' t' stop doin' that."
"It doesn't hurt anymore." I couldn't say that it's all that pleasurable, either, but the strangeness and faint discomfort of it are more than worth the sounds I draw from him as I carefully start to move.
"William!" He gasps my name, but with enough force behind it that it's clearly a protest; his hands clamp down on my hips hard, holding me in place. They are shaking. He takes a few deep breaths before meeting my eyes. "Ye said ye wanted t' stop before."
"I know."
"Wait � hear me out, love. Listen t' me. Will, if we start doin' this an' then ye say stop � I'm � I don't know if I'll be able to." Visibly, he swallows, closing his eyes for a moment. "Savvy?"
Everything stops dead. Neither of us breathes; I could swear that the ship stops rocking, the waves no longer beat against the hull. Something cold and heavy settles in the pit of my stomach. He could-? But at the same time I ache to see tears forming in his eyes. "No, oh, Jack-" I lean down, his hands no longer holding me still, and wrap my arms around him as best as I can. "Don't-" It's not the same. He's not the same as they are. He couldn't, not like they would have.
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I swear t' God, Will, I love ye more than anything else I could think of, and I'd die b'fore I hurt ye, but � ye can only push a man so far, savvy? Will, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, love."
"Shh. Don't be. It's okay, really it is-" He clings to me, and I kiss him. Slowly we quiet; for a while we hold each other in silence. I chuckle suddenly. "We make quite a couple, don't we?" He grins faintly back. But there's still too much pain in his eyes. I lean in close, almost nose to nose with him. "Listen. I want to do this for you, I really do. Even � even if it doesn't give me physical pleasure. It doesn't hurt anymore. That's the only reason I wanted to stop. Now that it doesn't hurt I want to keep going. I want � I want to be able to give you this, Jack."
He strokes up and down my back, an intimate touch but not a sexual one. "Why?"
"Because I love you." It is the simplest, and the most true, answer that I could give.
"You're sure?"
"What, that I love you or that I want to let you make love to me?"
I smile, but his answer takes all humor out of the situation. "Both."
He's serious. I want to cry. "God, Jack � I love you. I love you so much. I love you. I mean it. I love you now, and I have loved you for I don't know how long, and I plan to love you for the rest of my life." I pause to really look at him, trying to see if this is sinking in. "And I want you to make love to me. Please let me do this for you. Please. I need to do this for you."
He hesitates, his eyes searching mine. "All right. If you're sure, I-" he breaks off, and after a moment pulls me down to him and kisses me desperately. He moans deep in his throat as I start to move on him slowly. I am careful not to go too fast, and not really for the sake of my own comfort; it's strange, but he is the one of us who has to be handled gently just now. Every sound I draw from him is comforting and gratifying. I break the kiss to murmur in his ear that I love him, eliciting another gasp when I bite his earlobe gently. My nose is buried in his hair now, and I breathe in deeply, savoring his scent and the overlying tang of his sweat. He moans more, licking a sensitive spot at the base of my neck, and as one of his hands slides up my back the moment becomes perfect. This is right. We should be doing nothing else but this. Jack should be nowhere but in my arms, in my body. The feeling of completeness is overwhelming enough to bring tears to my eyes, but at the same time it sets off a new humming energy at the base of my spine that intensifies as Jack's other hand pulls at my nipple. I move faster.
Jack is groaning and gasping continuously, the inarticulate sounds occasionally punctuated by my name. His hands are all over me, finding and refinding places that make me moan and buck atop him. It is a turn on beyond belief to see and hear his pleasure � his eyes closing to slits, his body shaking, the sounds that spill from his lips � and his caresses make me burn. "Oh, fuck, Will," he breathes, and I shudder, knowing that we are doing exactly that, riding the waves of pleasure that his hands create and needing more than I think it's possible to have. There is no pain, only a feeling of being cradled and filled to completion as fire saturates my body.
Then he's pushing me, gently guiding me into a new position, and suddenly he's hitting that place inside of me on every stroke. I cry out, shaking and on the brink of orgasm; his moans edge me closer as I start to move on him faster. One stroke, two, three � and then shockingly, he curls up and forward and takes my erection into his mouth. Everything seems to happen in slow motion. I watch his lips slide down the shaft as far as he can reach and then back up as I sink down onto him. The white-hot pleasure as he hits the sweet spot in me creeps through me inch by inch � I know that when it meets the heat of his mouth I will explode � I feel the two of them come closer � closer � when they collide I throw my head back and scream with the searing ecstasy of coming. Jack's hands clench my hips bruisingly, and he actually lifts me and lets me drop, thrusting up into me in rhythm; as I feel the last of my seed leaving me he groans around my erection and heat floods my insides.
For a few moments we are still; then, as he lays back on the bed, I collapse onto my side with him still in me. We kiss as he pulls out; I feel a few twinges, but nothing too bad. I think I'll be sore, but not so much that I won't be able to sit tomorrow.
"Well, then," he says softly, grinning. I look at him in silence, feeling a similar grin stretching my cheeks; then, suddenly, I begin to chuckle. The joy welling in my chest knows no other release. Jack laughs a little along with me, his eyes bright, and then we kiss, and kiss again, and kiss once more for good measure � soft, lippy kisses as our breathing slows and our sweat dries.
"Are you all right, love?" Jack asks quietly but seriously when our lips part.
"I'm wonderful." I mean it. I have never felt this way before, and I could live the rest of my life contented to have known this feeling just once. I lean in to kiss him.
"Love you," he murmurs.
"Love you," I murmur back, and we snuggle into each other and settle down to sleep.
On the edge of dreaming a thought strikes me. I rouse myself enough to talk. "Jack."
"Mm?"
"I don't want to go to England anymore." His eyes shoot open. "I want to stay on the Pearl. With you." I let the pause drag out for just long enough before adding with a bit of a smile, "If you'll have me, that is."
"Of course I'll have you," he growls and pulls me forward to kiss me until I can't breathe.
I smile into the kiss. I never dreamed I'd end up here, but I thank God that I did. Jack and I had an opportunity at this before, but we didn't take advantage of it. I don't know why we were lucky enough to be given a second chance; I don't know what, exactly, made this time different. But I won't question it. With Jack's arms tight around me, his lips on mine, I know that this is where I belong, and I would never leave his side again for the world.
- 5
- 6
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Second Chances