jackxwill - pirates of the caribbean slash

Title: Educating Will
Author: Seraphina (lealea55@hotmail.com)
Pairing: Jack/Will
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Written for the second Jack/Will Ficathon for Dala who wanted Jack to be teaching Will something non-sexual that could lead to sex/romance and who didn’t want drunken!Will (I think that’s where I got stuck) nor did they want any Elizabeth bashing.
A/N: So…it’s late, I know, but I had SO MUCH TROUBLE writing it!!! But better late then never I guess…although I don’t know about that even. My apologies to Dala for the wait.
Thanks to my beta, RAS, and GreyElvenEyes for inspiration and encouragement and much Jack/Will fun!



In all his twenty-one years, William Turner had so far managed to avoid anything that pertained to a well-rounded education. This had not been deliberate of course, but had everything to do with circumstance. After all, a blacksmith’s apprentice was not likely to be sat down and schooled in either the sciences or the arts; one did not need to be able to recite Chaucer at the drop of the hat to be competent in crafting a horseshoe.

Will’s father had, however, taught him his letters on the odd occasion that his namesake was on shore leave. His knowledge of numbers had also been addressed at such times, although addition and subtraction he had come to learn whilst playing marbles in dirty back streets, with a bunch of equally dirty children. Even the youngest of these urchins was aware that, if they were to start the game with five of the coloured glass balls apiece, and then proceeded to lose four games, their pockets would be much the lighter on their return home.

Such an existence had also spared Will the bind of teachers who, inevitably, took their vocation too seriously and to the extreme. Like the one pacing in front of him right now, for instance; whacking the desk that he sat at with a yard ruler at every fault he made.

“Third person singular of aller in the passé composé!”

Il a all-

SMACK!

The former smith jumped at the sound of wood on wood, the ruler coming dangerously close to his quill hand, the feather quivering slightly from the force.

“Wrong! Aller is conjugated with the verb être in the passé composé!”

Will watched, with mild irritation, as the form continued pacing and shouting instructions. The act was almost believable, except for the pauses taken to seize a draught from a bottle of rum that sat on a dresser, throughout the proceedings.

Il est allé,” Will said wearily, and with an eye roll.

“Correct!”

Whilst the situation had started off as being amusing, the novelty was rapidly wearing thin. At twenty-one years of age, although his life had been lacking in such things, Will hardly felt there was a need to make up for it. He slumped over the desk and frowned. “Jack, don’t you think you’re taking this a little too seriously?”

The pirate spun on his heel mid pace, planting his hands on the desk that Will sat at, the ruler pinned firmly under his right palm.

Leaning over the lad, he looked stern. “Ye mean t’ say tha’ ye don’t consider yer education a thing of importance?”

Will considered this. “No,” he started slowly. “You have, after all, instructed me well in many…er…aspects of pirate life…”

Jack smirked at this, leaning in closer to his young protégé. “Aye…”

A crimson flush began creeping it’s way up Will’s neck, to his face, yet he continued, “But…is the act really necessary? Is the French really necessary?”

“Act?” Jack straightened quickly, gripping his right wrist with his other hand behind his back, and tapped the top of his boot with the yard ruler. “It’s not an act!”

Will raised an eyebrow.

Jack grinned roguishly, his whole posture changing from stiff backed tutor to swaggering scoundrel, in a single moment. “Oh alright. Ruin me fun if ye must, but as fer the French; well a monolingual pirate of the Caribbean can hardly be considered an asset- even one as pretty as yerself.”

Will scowled, but couldn’t prevent the blush from intensifying. “Putain de pirate.”

The insult had been barely audible but, with his annoying penchant for practicing selective hearing, Jack’s head snapped up. “What was tha’, whelp?”

Having not expected the pirate to catch what he’d said, Will blinked rapidly several times, before forcing his face into an expression of what he hoped was innocence. “Nothing, Captain.”

Jack narrowed his eyes but let it slide, and instead took up his pacing professor routine
“A sentence, if you will, Monsieur Turner, using être in the first person.”

The look on Jack’s face alerted Will to the fact that the pirate thought he was throwing him a challenge. This was only the fifth of the weekly mandatory French lessons they’d had in the captain’s cabin. That wasn’t to say that he’d had no choice in the matter-there had been a choice: French with Jack, or Spanish with Anamaria. Jack’s sessions were almost guaranteed to be mild in comparison with anything the fiery female pirate could come up with. The idea of Anamaria marching the length of the room, brandishing the yard ruler in Jack’s stead was a little frightening, and for the most part, highly implausible; ‘the cat’ was more Anamaria’s style.

So the smart choice- if it could be called that- had been French with the captain. Besides, whilst three hours every Wednesday had been set aside officially for what Jack had deemed ‘the education of Will’, only half of that time was actually devoted to language acquisition. The other hour and a half was spent exploring more primitive methods of communication, ranging from guttural cries, to high-pitched moans, and the occasional babble of monosyllabic affirmations and expletives.

All in all, it was a happy arrangement…well it had been, up until today. The pirate was being slightly more obnoxious than was his usual wont. The pacing was fairly normal; a little stiffer than usual perhaps, but it was the aforementioned yard ruler that was a new addition to the mix, and Will was not at all sure that he liked it. In fact, he was sure that he didn’t like it. Of course, Jack was captain, and had a great degree of power in regards to most things on the Pearl, and Will appreciated that power. Indeed, he appreciated that power most nights, some mornings and when there was no raiding, pilfering or plundering to be done, he appreciated it during the odd noontime break as well. What Will didn’t appreciate, however, was Jack’s current abuse of that power in order to simply get a rise out of the lad. But Will wasn’t going to give the pirate the satisfaction.

“And in what tense would you like that, Captain?”

Jack looked slightly taken aback, clearly having expected Will to falter, but the pirate recovered quickly. “The present will be fine, Monsieur Turner.”

Will took a few moments to think it out carefully, determined not to make another fault, and knowing that he had a few things up his sleeve for the day’s lesson. “Mon capitaine est casse-pieds et vachement pénible.”

The expression on Jack’s face was comical; changing rapidly from one of shock to something of incredulous accusation. “Pain in the…? Annoying?!”

Will shrugged, quill scratching as he doodled on the parchment in front of him. An impudent grin threatened to spread across his current look of innocence. “It’s just a sentence, mon capitaine.”

“Just a sentence,” Jack mimicked as he took up his pacing again. He’d opened his mouth to throw another challenge at the young man seated at the desk before him, when he whirled around suddenly. “I never taught you those!”

Will blinked and paused, ink dripped from the quill that hovered motionless over the paper. “Well, I er, must’ve picked it up from, um, from one of the crew,” he finished quickly.

Jack raised an eyebrow. “Yer a bad liar, Will Turner. I see that lessons in the art of untruths will have to be considered. Four months as a pirate an’ I would’ve thought ye’d be somewha’ more accomplished at deliverin’ fallacies than tha’!”

Will stared down silently at the sketch of the Pearl in front of him, not daring to cast an upward glance until the pirate rapped on the desk with the ruler.

“Well?” Jack pressed, chin held high, but eyes gazing down his nose at the somewhat nervous smith.

“Well what?” Will stalled, shifting uncomfortably in his seat as Jack raised an eyebrow.

“Let’s make it noon time of a Thursd’y fer a session in honesty an’ how one overcomes it, eh?”

“I hate you right now,” Will scowled in a last attempt to deter Jack from getting the truth out of him.

A smile broke out on the captain’s face. “Now there ye go! I almost believed ye tha’ time!”

Will gritted his teeth. “I wasn’t lying.”

Jack tutted. “Now let’s not start all tha’ rot again. Out with it!”

An audible sigh escaped the smith’s mouth as he slumped at the table, dropping the quill to rest next to several others. “Last week, when we stopped at Port au Prince…” Will trailed off, knowing all too well what the reaction to the coming information would be. Jack prompting him with a poke to the ribs with the ruler wasn’t helping the situation any either. “Bloody pirate,” he said, glaring at the offending piece of wood, pushing it away roughly, and up at Jack's expectant expression; “Oh alright! When you were off organising supplies, I made a visit to La Maison du Péché-”

SMACK!

'Will, who had most definitely not been expecting it, jumped at the sound of the ruler hitting the desk again. He stared up, astounded at Jack's outburst, as his hand darted out to steady an inkpot.

“You went WHERE?!”

La Maison du Péché to see Madame Delphine-”

SMACK!

“You saw WHO?!”

Will could feel anger starting to brew, his blood beginning to simmer slightly. The smith didn’t mind Jack’s possessive nature as such. It could be quite nice in fact, but this was getting a little beyond ridiculous. Will was, after all, a grown man, and whilst there remained some areas in which he was quite naïve and ignorant, he didn’t think that this gave the pirate the right to treat him like some disobedient child. “Madame Delphine. I paid her to-“ The ruler created a slight breeze as it whipped through the air on its way down to the desktop, but it never made it, as Will’s hand shot out and grasped it mid swing. His palm felt like it was on fire from the force with which it had hit, but he didn’t show it, and glared at Jack instead. “Stop it!”

The pirate glared back, trying to pull the ruler out of Will’s grasp and he spoke through gritted teeth. “Ye paid ‘er t’ do wha’?”

Will stood quickly and wrenched the ruler out of the pirate’s grip. “To teach. Me. French,” he growled, beating Jack’s left upper arm to emphasize each word, before throwing the length of wood to the floor. “What did you think?!”

Jack glowered, rubbing his arm. “Well I dun’ know!!! Ye sit ‘ere telling me tha’ ye’ve been to visit the woman with th’ best mouth in th’ Caribbean…wha’ was I s’pose t’ think?! Why didn’t ye go t’ see a regular tutor?!” The pirate’s voice was laced with jealousy as he leaned over the table, almost nose to nose with the smith, possibly in attempted intimidation.

But Will was not going to back down. He stood his ground, the volume of his voice rising steadily with his anger. “Because I hardly think that had I gone to a regular tutor, they would’ve obliged me when I asked them how to request to be licked all over!”

Jack straightened, blinking rapidly. He had quite obviously not been expecting such a response from the normally docile and modest blacksmith. “But I suppose Delphine was,” he couldn’t help but add; it was almost impossible for the pirate not to have the last word.

The smith seemed to deflate a little, and he nodded, sighing. “In more ways than one…but I didn’t take her up on the offer, of course!” he added, as Jack seemed ready to start the argument afresh.

There was silent for a moment as Jack shifted from foot to foot, looking thoughtful as he considered this. “So…” he started, finally having accepted that Will had indeed made a visit to Haiti’s most infamous whore for completely different reasons than most other men, or women for that matter. “Was yer money well spent?”

The smith’s entire demeanour seemed to change. “Je veux que tu me lèches partout.” Will’s voice was soft, and slightly deeper than it had been only moments before, as he regarded the pirate across from him through dark lashes.

Jack stared for a moment in evident shock, before managing to find his voice. “I shall take tha’ te mean ‘aye’.” He cleared his throat. “That was…a wonderful use of the subjunctive there, lad. What else did the ol’ whore teach ye?” The pirate began rounding the table.

Touche-moi,” Will said demurely, turning to face Jack as the pirate stalked towards him.

“Hmmm, the imperative,” Jack approved, coming to stop in front of the smith, fingers twitching and hands hovering at his sides. “An’ where would ye have me touch ye?”

Will held Jack’s smouldering gaze with his own, but did not move. “Wherever it would please the captain to do so.”

Several quills, the inkpot and parchment went flying in different directions. The desk was forced several inches across the floor as pirate pinned smith to the table-top, devouring the youth’s mouth with his own and grinding their hips together.

Will groaned in appreciation, Jack’s hardness rubbing against his own rapidly growing arousal. The thought crossed his mind that his captain must have been sporting his erection for quite a while now and-

“You were getting off on this!” Will pried Jack’s lips from his neck as this dawned upon him.

Jack looked slightly irritated at having been interrupted. “Wha’?”

Propping himself on his elbows, Will frowned. “The act, the ruler…you liked it.”

“Aye,” the pirate conceded, grinning lazily. “Well, no, it weren’t the act or the ruler, per se, twas yer reaction more like. Ye scowl and ye fight back, and a fiery Will is a beautiful Will indeed,” Jack finished and latched himself once more to the lad’s neck.

Will could hardly argue with that, and let himself fall back on the desk, allowing the pirate to do what he would. This involved, as always, the swift removal of vests and shirts and the oral worshiping of Will’s upper body for a good five minutes.

Arrête,” Will managed to choke out at last. Jack’s hand was down the front of his breeches, ringed fingers dancing wonderfully and teasingly over Will’s cock, either ignoring or deaf to his lover’s request. The smith was mewled kittenishly as teeth grazed over a pebble hard nipple. “ARRETE!”

Again, Jack looked up from his ministrations, wearing a less than impressed expression. “Stop? Now why would ye have me do tha’ at this particular point in the proceedin’s?” He gave the contents of his hand a light squeeze for emphasis, and smiled as Will’s eyes rolled back in their sockets.

“Because,” Will panted, trying to regain some modicum of composure, “I have a quill sticking me in the arse…” he paused and looked as if he was contemplating something, “and I seem to be lying in some sort of wet patch.”

Jack frowned, and his moustache twitched. “Are ye tryin’ t’ make me jealous?”

“Jack!”

“Alright, alright,” Jack grumbled as he reluctantly extricated himself from Will, and stood, pulling the smith up with him. The pirate wore a smirk as he looked over Will’s shoulder and at the top of the desk. “Good luck with getting’ tha’ wet spot out, m’ boy.”

Will frowned and craned his neck, attempting to catch a glimpse of his own arse. Failing at this, he glanced towards the tabletop, eyes widening to impossible proportions, and pressed his palm to the seat of his pants. The expression on his face remained as he held up his hand, now bearing a fairly large, black ink spot.

Jack grinned mischievously as he too stared at the hand. “Best we get ye out o’ those breeches, eh? Wouldn’t want it soakin’ through an all.”

Will nodded, hands flying to the fastenings of his breeches. “Quite. May I suggest a new, er, surface on which to carry out the remainder of the lesson?” The smith’s eyes flicked quickly back to the desk and then over to the bed in the corner.

Jack followed the gaze with a leer. “Excellent idea, Monsieur Turner. A+ for initiative.” With that, he began to drag Will across the room as the smith battled with boots and breeches.

By the time the bed was reached, Will was devoid of all vestments. After only a minute lying prostrate on the down-filled mattress, he was almost devoid of breath as the pirate all but sucked it out of him.

“So,” Jack said, his mouth travelling over Will’s collarbone and making its way over his chest and down, tongue dipping into the smith’s navel. “Did tha’ lush teach ye the verb sucer?”

Will shook his head and made a small noise of negation; it was all he was capable of with his captain’s hands dipping between them to caress his heavy bollocks and painfully hard member.

“No’ to worry, though.” Jack’s tongue swiped over Will’s hipbone. “Conjugate it. Second person, imperative…an’ with yerself as the object pronoun, if ye will.”

At first, all that Will could muster was a strangled moan as the tip of his cock was fleetingly caressed by wet heat. “S-s-suce-moi,” he finally managed to stutter…and Jack happily obliged, engulfing Will’s entire length in his talented mouth and sucking on it leisurely, massaging with tongue and teeth.

A startled, yet satisfied cry rang out through the cabin, and Will arched involuntarily off the bed, his body’s reactions no longer under his control. He fisted the bed linen in his hands, feet digging into the mattress, trying desperately to push his erection deeper into Jack’s mouth. Jack’s hand settled warmly on Will’s abdomen, gently forcing the youth’s hips down, and pinning them against the bed as he continued his assault on the pulsing cock, his fingers brushing tantalisingly against Will’s entrance.

Composure was something that Will generally prided himself on, and with someone like Jack as a lover, patience was of the utmost importance. But at present, with the captain’s delightful mouth surrounding his cock and the pads of the rogue’s fingers teasing him relentlessly, Will was having a hard time keeping himself in check. Jack, although not always the most observant of men, must’ve realised though, and pulled his mouth free of its beautiful hindrance.

Ignoring Will’s sounds of protest, of which there were many, he looked up devilishly, and into the smith’s pleading eyes. “Time fer some translation I think; let’s see if that wench taught ye anythin’ worthwhile.” With his fingers still continuing their lazy circles, Jack cleared his throat. “Je veux que tu sois dedans moi.

Will’s eyes screwed up in concentration, trying to ignore the feeling of Jack’s fingers between his legs, while he searched his very limited French vocabulary. “I w-want,” he started after a moment pause, only to stop again with a groan as the pirate’s tongue flicked out once more to catch the pre-cum leaking from Will’s engorged cock.

“Aye,” Jack prodded with both voice and digits.

Will whimpered, trying to push down on the fingers, to coax them further, but they pulled away at his attempts. “I want…I want you inside of me,” he finished with a rush. No sooner had he done so, than he felt the trickle of scented oil as the hand on his abdomen pushed a little firmer, and two fingers slid quickly inside of him. He writhed and mewled with the pleasure of it, trying desperately to bring them deeper, where they hit that perfect spot, and he saw stars.

All too soon, the smith felt himself nearing the edge, and desperately whined Jack’s name. “Please…I want you inside of me,” he begged, voice hitching slightly.

Jack grinned his piratical grin and curled his fingers, delighting in the expressions and sounds that his blacksmith made under his touch. “But, Will, I am inside of ye.”

The lad’s brow creased deeply, and he made a whimper of protest. “You know what I mean, pirate!”

“Not until ye ask nicely.”

Will glared darkly at Jack, sweat streaming down his forehead in rivulets, and glistening over his chest. “Baise-moi!”

Jack could not have looked more surprised if he’d tried, but who was he to argue? The pirate’s eyes clouded suddenly with lust as they swept hungrily over the sight before him. Within seconds, his breeches were also a thing of the past, and he positioned himself between Will quivering thighs before sheathing his own shaft to the hilt over and over again. The smith’s legs wrapped themselves around the thrusting hips, his hand gripping the tanned and scarred shoulders, urging the pirate on. Whilst one of Jack own hands was planted firmly beside Will’s head, the other slipped down between them, taking hold of the lad’s member firmly, and stroking it to match their rhythm.

It did not take either of them long to reach the brink, clinging to one another as they shouted their lover’s names. As the last vestiges of their orgasms swept over them, a panting Jack collapsed onto an equally panting Will, the latter’s seed still warm and slick between them.

“You, me Will, speak the mos’ beautiful French outside o’ a creole whorehouse. Je t’aime.”

Will chuckled tiredly, his hand coming to caress Jack’s hair, the pirate’s head resting on his still slightly heaving chest. “I had hoped for it to be a surprise for you.”

Jack pressed a kiss over the youth’s heart then raised his head, his eyes meeting Will’s half-lidded ones. “Aye, well ye’ve succeeded.”

“Yes, but it wasn’t supposed to be like this.” The exasperation on Will’s face only made the pirate smirk.

“Wha’? Ye weren’t satisfied then?”

Au contraire, mon capitaine. Très satisfied, in fact.” The smith’s face slowly turned crimson.

“Ahhhh, so pretty when ye blush.”

Will rolled his eyes despite the colour still rising in his cheeks. “Would that you refrain from constantly calling me pretty, Jack”

“Tha’s Captain Jack, whelp.”

“Hmm, it’s high time you changed your tune. That one’s getting a little old and tedious,” Will said, his expression bordering on cheeky.

“‘We pilfer, we plund-’

“As is that one.”

“Ahh, I know one ye’ll like. Tis called ‘Buried to the hilt in me favourite smith.’…it has actions.”

Will raised his arms and stretched under the weight of his captain. “Hmmm, it sounds familiar. I think I’ve already learnt the first verse.”

The pirate’s head cocked to the side, scallywag grin in place. “It has an infinite number of verses. And I must insist that you endeavour to practice at least once a day.”

“Then by all means, teach me, professor.”

And he did.


*~*~*~*

OK, as mentioned by Will, a regular tutor is not likely to teach someone those particular phrases so I tried my best. If you know better than me…highly likely, please don’t hesitate to let me know where I went wrong…the subjunctive makes me want to throw myself off tall buildings.

Translations not explained as such in the text:

Aller- to go
passé composé- equiv. Of past tense
être- to be
Il est allé- He went
Putain de pirate- Goddamn/fucking pirate
La Maison du Péché- lit. The House of Sin
Baise-moi - Fuck me


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