jackxwill - pirates of the caribbean slash

Title: PB & J
Author: Blue Buick R (blue_buick_r@hotmail.com)
Pairing: J/W
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Wherein sunburns hurt, pirates pirate, grass goes up in smoke and food is NOT eaten but put to good use.
Notes: Man, it was impossible to write this particular fic without its “plot” coming off like a porn flick. Meh, nothing I could do. Warning for some slight drug use but nothing serious. Oh and feedback, feedback, feedback!
Written for: Seraphina
Requests: 1: AU; preferably present day; 2: Peanut butter kink
Restrictions: 1: no crunchy peanut butter; 2: nothing below NC-17 rating because that would just ruin the peanut butter fun.

The clear Caribbean waters were warm and blue, mirroring the cloudless emerald sky; the wind was fragrant and refreshing. The sun. The sun was…hellish and scalding. A fact which William Turner discovered first hand; much to the amusement of his friend, some would say girlfriend, Elizabeth Swann.

Will cursed the day he agreed to accompany Elizabeth for a summer cruise on her father’s yacht. He’d had a ton of vacation days stacked up from his job at the hair salon and Elizabeth had pleaded so prettily, lamenting the fact that she would have to spend part of her summer break from university all alone on a boat with only her father for company. When Will pointed out that Rick, the pilot Mr. Swann hired to navigate his cruises, would be on board as well, Elizabeth all but sniffed, saying Rick was “no fun at all…plus he’s losing his hair.” Sucker that he was, Will had fallen for the ploy and agreed to be Elizabeth’s guest for the length of the trip.

At the moment he, or more accurately, every inch of skin not covered by the ridiculously tiny speedo Elizabeth had supplied him (which in consequence of its tinyness made it a great deal of skin) was cursing his sucker-ness with the heat of a thousand suns; all of them beating down and burning him to a wonderfully fetching lobster red. By the morrow he would no doubt look like some horrid beast from a sci-fi show, skin peeling and shredding off his body as if he were shedding in transformation.

That was the last time Will fell asleep on the deck of a yacht in the thick of the Caribbean summer!

Leaving Elizabeth’s maddening snickers behind him, Will made his way gingerly down the steps, away from his tormentor (both of them), and into the quiet coolness below deck. He slipped into his room and blinked the haze from his eyes, adjusting to the lower light. When his vision finally cleared he found himself staring at his reflection in the full length mirror hanging across from him. His face fell. Oh god! It looked like someone had scrubbed him raw with steel wool. Walking closer to the mirror to get a better look, Will cringed in anticipation as he slowly peeled the skimpy swim suit off his slim hips and down his legs. If he wasn’t already beet red he was sure he’d be able to see his face flush…he could certainly feel it! The box of his pelvis, his ass and his dick were all still a milky white. He looked like a complete and utter idiot.

Realizing there was very little he could do short of going back out in the buff and crisping his untouched skin (no thank you his cock interjected, not unless you plan on keeping your hands to yourself for the next long while…which I might add is not bloody likely), Will decided he best tackle what he *could* help. Feeling the stored heat radiating off him in waves Will grabbed his towel, carefully wrapped it around his waist, and exited his room, heading for the large bathing chamber. Turning on the cold faucet, and only the cold faucet, Will watched as the large tub filled while rummaging around under the vanity for a package of Elizabeth’s oatmeal concentrate. He knew she always had some on hand for she claimed it was the secret to her soft, supple skin. Will found it made her taste like cookies.

Tossing one, then upon further consideration two packages into the cold water, sloshing it around, Will dropped his towel and stepped into the tub. His heart skipped a beat as he sunk down into the icy water, his lungs seized, and his cock tried to crawl up into his body (this is hardly more appealing than option one, thank you very much, and why should I have to suffer for your own stupidity?!). Will smiled. It was pure and utter bliss. And it wasn’t long before he promptly fell asleep.


Jack Sparrow really did love his life. The fresh air, the jeweled waters, the glorious sun…the total freedom of being one’s own boss and the luxury of ignoring any and all of men’s laws (sometimes simply for the principle of it all). Ah, the life of a pirate really was for him. Sure modern day sea wolves didn’t have the same romanticism and adventure associated with them, but it was a damn good living if anyone asked Jack. The rich and affluent in an attempt to outdo each other (as they had done since time immemorial) built and bought more and more extravagant and desirable yachts and boats. And, with an almost total lack of any authority policing international waters, piracy, while not rampant, was flourishing…another golden age one might say.

Currently Jack and his rag tag crew were cruising along in their own modified yacht; a sleek, speedy little number Jack ‘procured’ from an Italian designer some two years back. They were heading for what Jack anticipated was a good prospect. Their equipment had indicated the presence of another vessel nearby and as they changed course to pursue the little green blip Jack was hopeful; it was the right time of year for the hoydy toydies to be about, and having spent the pecuniary results from their last venture Jack and his crew needed a infusion of funds soon, before their pockets sprouted flies when turned inside out.

As they neared their target Jack’s hopes were confirmed. She was a relatively small yacht, probably four or five people on her at most, not so large as to cause problems, and by the looks of her pretty new. Signaling his men to prepare to make a run at her, Jack pulled out his pistol, checking to make sure it was loaded and the safety was on, dropping a hand down to his belt as well to touch the hilt of his knife. Check and check.As they approached the other boat slowed as if confused as to who they were and what was going on. Jack would be happy to show them. He gave the signal for his man on the bow with the rifle to shoot a warning shot over the front of their prey. He did so, and after that particular display the opposition caught on fast and the yacht sped up in an attempt to escape. Jack shook his head; they always made a run for it.

Catching sight of an older man leaning over the side rail to get a better look at them Jack ordered his rifle man to take another shot. This one impacted on the deck of the boat right by the shocked man’s feet. Moments later Jack saw the man turn to yell something behind him and soon the yacht slowed. Jack flashed a smile; gets them every time.

Once it stopped it took very little time for Jack and several members of his crew to pull up beside the yacht and board; they were professionals after all. Assembled on deck was the old man who’d been the victim of the pot shot, a young woman pressed up to his side (daughter or chippy Jack couldn’t decide) and a middle aged man who’s bold spot flashed in the sun and who he assumed was the pilot. As soon as they approached the huddled trio the older man took a step forward.

“How dare you…you…you,” he sputtered. “I demand you remove yourselves from my boat immediately!”

“Now you see, friend,” Jack drawled, “you have things a bit backwards.” Sweeping his hand about, he smiled wolfishly. “This is *my* boat.”

“Why you…” the old man bellowed but got no further as Jack jerked his head, signaling his men to gag the indignant chap.

As the older gentleman was roughly manhandled, a scrap of clothe shoved between his teeth, the girl and the other man sprang to life.

“Father!” “Mister Swann!” they both shouted at the same time.

Ah, daughter then. Pulling more clothe from his pocket he tossed one to Gibbs, pointing to the man, while he moved towards the girl. He was never one to put up with shrieking and this one looked like a hell of a screamer.

Gagging the girl proved harder than it looked, for she kicked, and squirmed and clenched her teeth tightly. Jack swore he heard the word “will” gasped out as he finally managed to wedge the rag between her lips.

A short time later all three were bundled up into a life boat, the girl’s muffled screams continuous all the while (Jack praised his foresight), becoming fainter as they drifted away; Jack’s yacht and their newly acquired acquisition speeding off in the opposite direction. As soon as they were a good ways off from the scene of the crime so to speak the two boats would split up to avoid suspicion and meet later at a specified rendezvous point. Jack and Gibbs would stay onboard the stolen yacht while the rest of the crew took their own. Jack preferred to do things this way; it gave him time to examine his catch as well as filch any baubles he might come across without having to share with the crew. First dibs always had been and always would be captain’s prerogative.

While Gibbs steered the boat Jack began his perusal. He started with a circuit of the deck, noting the canopied dining area, the small pool and the shuffle board. He then proceeded to move below deck. Entertainment room with television, bedrooms, small kitchen and…as Jack opened the door to what could only be the bathroom he stopped dead in his tracks. There fast asleep in a large clawed tub was a smokin’ (not including, but despite the obvious sun burn) young man. Jack shook his head in amazement and smiled wide, what luck; he’d have to bring Mr. Gibbs along more often!


Will Turner shivered slightly, twitched, and shivered again. He furrowed his brow trying to figure out why he felt so cold and what was tickling his ear. He was sure opening his eyes would prove useful, however, he could not dredge up the energy to lift his lids. Besides he had a skull splitting headache.

Again something brushed his ear…warm, slightly sweet smelling in fact. Raising his hand to bat the annoyance away he heard the splashing of water and the unmistakable scent of oatmeal drifting about. He sighed. Oh yes, the burn from the fiery pits of hell. Settling back into the water he opted to remain where he was for a few more days before even thinking of moving. He’d have to get Elizabeth to feed and water him but he was sure she wouldn’t mind, especially after she laughed at him.

“You planning on moving one of these days?” an unfamiliar voice spoke by his ear, more tickling from what Will now identified as air, no breath, wafting past it.

His eyes snapped open instantly as he jerked himself upright in the tub, water flew everywhere, spilling over the sides, and two voices yelled out. Will’s in pain, the stranger’s in outrage. Will whipped his head in the direction of the voice and came face to face with a soggy oatmeal splattered man. He had matted black hair and a beard, his face tanned dark from the sun. Two smoldering dark eyes regarded him back, a small smile revealing several gold teeth.

“I suppose I deserved that,” said the man, flicking a gob of oatmeal from his chin and onto Will’s chest, unerringly nailing him in the right nipple.

“Who the hell are you?” Will exclaimed, bringing his knees up quickly as he realized he was naked and that the man was staring at him…eyes fixed below the water…still smiling.

“Jack Sparrow, at your service,” he replied, tilting his head in greeting.

“That doesn’t tell me anything,” Will pointed out, looking about the room as if sanity or understanding could be found there. “Where’s Elizabeth?! Mr. Swann and Rick?”

The man settled back on his heels. “You see, as a result of my transaction with Mr. Swann, i.e., he handing over this here yacht to me free of charge, they were required to leave the premises.”

“You’ve killed them!” Will choked out in shock, lower lip trembling despite himself.

The man, Jack, rolled his eyes dramatically. “Hardly. We shoved them off in a lifeboat, plenty of water, straw hats for everyone. They’ll be picked up in no time. Unfortunately…or fortunately…for me we didn’t know there was anyone else onboard.”

“How can I believe you?” Will demanded.

“Why, have I ever lied to you,…” he groped for a name he did not have, “*you*?” he finished lamely.

“I’ve only just met you!” Will yelled almost hysterical by this point. God, he was trapped on a boat in the middle of the ocean with a criminal. Naked. Him, not the criminal! And looking like a ripe tomato to boot. How degrading!

“Now, now, no sense getting into a huff,” Jack admonished him. “Why don’t we get you out of the tub and we can discuss things like civilized people.”

“Civilized…you just stole this boat!”

“And quite civilly thank you,” Jack said primly. “I’ll have you know I only shot at the old man’s feet, not his head.”

Will goggled, horrified.

He had little time to recover his wits as a strong hand encircled his upper arm and pulled him to his feet. He hissed out as the rough hand made contact with his abused skin, and almost fell over as a wave of vertigo hit, the pounding in his head increased, and his feet slid on the slimy oatmeal settled on the bottom of the tub. The hand tightening and steadied him but did little to stave off the rushing in his ears and the spots which were coalescing into complete darkness in front of his eyes.


“Whoa there!” Jack barely managed to catch the boy before he collapsed back into the bath.

Hauling the slick young body up against him for support Jack was pleased to feel a good bit of muscle nestled under that soft, flaming skin. Walking backward he pulled the lad from the tub and with one hand snagged a wrap covered in bright tropical birds, hanging over a hook, to swathe around the boy’s waist in a makeshift sarong. By the looks of things this young pup had a mild case of heat stroke…as well as a ridiculously stark tan (burn?) line which made Jack giggle (almost giggle!).

He was able to maneuver the both of them into the closest bedroom with minimal tangling of legs and mouthfuls of hair, and thank providence the boy was unconscious for Jack was required to unceremoniously dumped him onto the bed before his arms gave out. Making a quick run through the other rooms he found the boy’s wallet, checked the ID, pocketed the 50 bucks inside, and smirked over the business cards slid alongside a credit card. Seemed the boy cut hair for a place called Slick. Either this Elizabeth was slumming it, or William Turner (for that was his name) was one of those hundred and fifty bucks a haircut types; considering the lack of bills and credit cards in the wallet, Jack highly doubted it.

Returning to wait for his guest (prisoner) to awaken Jack tossed the room they were currently occupying just for fun, and ye gods and little fishes wouldn’t you know it, came across a plastic baggy full of grass and rice paper. Looked like good old Rick liked to toke up every now and then. Jack snorted, and people though the waters were dangerous because of pirates!

It was about this time that William began to stir.

Setting himself in the cabin’s only chair, Jack leaned back and set his feet onto the edge of the bed, pasting on his best grin. The boy mumbled and shifted a bit more, wrap loosening and sliding down the small of his back and the apex of his buttocks, the white untouched skin beginning to peek out in the most innocent, yet shameless, of teases. Finally he turned his face to the side, facing Jack, large brown eye sliding open. He tensed as he saw him, but did not move otherwise.

“Why am I still naked?” he mumbled into the blanket scrunched up beneath his face.

“You’re not naked,” Jack explained.

“I can feel air wafting over my ass,” Will replied in a monotone.

“Nah, only a tiny bit of it. You’ve got the construction worker look going on.”

Will snarled and reached back to yank the garish clothe higher up his waist. “Did you subject Elizabeth to this type of treatment before you ‘shoved her off into a lifeboat’?”

Jack snorted. “Don’t worry none, Will, she’s not really my bag of chips.”

Will pressed himself further into the mattress. “And I am?” He paused then jerked up to looked over at Jack. “How did you know my name?”

“Believe me when I tell you this,” Jack said earnestly. “You’re everyone’s bag of chips. I don’t care if they’re man, woman, or hermaphrodite, if they have a set of genitals they want to screw you. If they say they don’t, they’re lying.” He waited a beat. “I looked.”

Will curled up into the tightest ball he could suffer. “Looked?” he squeaked.

“At you wallet,” Jack clarified. “That’s how I knew your name.”

The ball of Will relaxed slightly but did not uncurl.

“What now?”

“Now we rendezvous with my crew, then we’ll set you ashore somewhere safe and be on our way.”


Jack put a hand to his heart. “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye.”

Jack could just make out the sly smile flash across the handsome face.

“I’ll keep you to that.”


Will really had no idea how he was supposed to be reacting or what he should be doing. Jack said he would let Will go and whether that was the truth or not Will couldn’t say…nor could he help it one way or the other. He’d thought about making a lunge for the knife he spied at the man’s waist but thought better of it. Even if he did manage to coax his sore body and pounding head into action, and even if he did by some miracle wrestle the knife from the man, then what? Will knew for a fact that he did not have the type of personality which would lend well to threatening a man with a knife, even in the process of an escape…especially since his life was not in any immediate danger (his ass on the other hand might be a completely different story if the other man’s words and leers were any indication). There was also the risk of the unknown. How many more men were on the yacht, someone had to be driving the boat after all?

Before his whirling mind could plunge headlong into the same set of possibilities and problems for the hundredth or so time Jack cleared his throat. “I’m thinking in the spirit of our new amicable relations I could offer you some assistance with regards to your present condition,” he said once he was sure he had Will’s attention.

It took a moment for Will’s sun poached brain to process this particular sentence before he finally cast a weary and sceptical eye Jack’s way. “Which would be what, exactly?”

Jack reached over to the end table beside him and held up a clear plastic sandwich bag. “Look what I have foraged for us, Will my boy,” he said shaking the baggie in enticement.

Will looked over and frowned. “What is it?”


“What?” Will was sure his mouth was hanging open. And not in an attractive way.

It looked like clarification would be needed.

“Weed.” Jack paused and still Will said nothing, continuing to look back at him dumbfounded. “Mary Jane. Marijuana.”

At this point in the proceedings Will pressed his mouth once again into a remarkable resemblance to a mail slot. “I know what pot means,” he almost yelled. “What the hell are you trying to pull?” he said, a little more quietly.

Jack sat back, regarding Will contemplatively. “I’m trying to ease your discomfort, maybe help you’re headache and stop you from crawling out of your skin. It’ll also pass the time like nothing besides sex!”

“Put it away.” Will was not going to dignify that last comment with a response…no way…no how.

The older man shook his head and glanced up at his companion. “I’m surprised. I’d have thought with a girlfriend in college you’d have been to some parties with stuff way harder than a little pot.”

Will looked apprehensively at the other man.

“Are you telling me you’ve never, ever, done drugs? Not even pot?” Jack said, his voice clearly indicating he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.


“I can’t believe this! I’ve got myself a virgin!”

“I’m no virgin!” he replied defensively, stung.

Jack snorted. “Well, we’ll just have to remedy this little oversight in your tutelage.”

“Forget it!” It came out forcefully.

“Come on, you’re on vacation. It’s not like there are any cops about to bust up the fun.”

“No. I don’t want to. I need to be of sound mind in case you…try something unsavoury.” Will had a problem coming up with good excuses on the fly. He could always come up with excuses; they just weren’t good unless he had some time to perfect them.

“Oh, get off it. You couldn’t even stand, were unconscious in fact, with no way to defend yourself and I didn’t do anything. And let me tell you, if I had planned on it would have been then…much less fuss.”

Will was silent but he was almost sure Jack knew he was beginning to falter. It appeared peer pressure wasn’t restricted to teenagers.

“Come on William, everybody does it.”

“Not this someone.” There that sounded firm.

“Look there’s even some slow burning rice paper so it lasts longer,” Jack wheedled, brandishing a small packet.

“No,” was all he said but a little argument was going on inside his head. 'If this strangely engaging man jumped off a cliff, would you?' one side would ask; 'Umm, depends?' the other would say sheepishly.

Jack smiled and brought the bag up close to his face. “This stuff’s good. There are no stems; it’s all bud. And it’s dry, not wet. The guy who sold this stuff didn’t cheat his customer.”

“What guy?” He groaned inwardly; he was weakening. Resolve be damned.

“The guy Ricky must have bought the weed from. Probably a real nice chap; threw in the zags for free.”

“Zags?” Will found this strangely interesting. This was a world he’d never been a part of before. This world had men in it that not only knew what ‘zags ’were but could use them correctly in a sentence. Pretty impressive stuff. Or at least to Will’s befuddled, stressed out, inexperienced mind.

“The papers,” Jack explained to him patiently.

“Oh.” Looking more closely, Will scooted closer to the edge of the bed and the chair Jack was sitting in so he could watch. “How much is in there do you think?”

“About a quarter.”

“A quarter what?”

“A quarter ounce,” Jack clarified.


Jack opened the bag and Will could smell something like pine filtering out. He pulled out the papers before standing. Walking over to the end table, and the notebook which sat there, he ripped off a piece of the cover.

“What’s that for?” Will asked, more intrigued by the second.

Jack resumed his earlier position and set the notebook piece aside. “Filters. Well, not really filters. Just a little barrier so we don’t burn our fingers. This way we can enjoy it to the last puff and keep our digits intact.”

“Oh.” Will was reverting to one syllable utterances; a sign that he wasn’t sure what was going on but felt oddly compelled to see what developed.

Taking his role as instructor seriously, Jack tried to explain what he would be doing. Will supposed Jack assumed he was along for the ride since he had stopped reacting and just said 'Oh' a lot. Eloquence had never been his strong point.

“I don’t have any tobacco, not even a cigarette. So I won’t be mixing and matching. That means they’ll be stronger. I’ll roll a few pinners to get us started and then some gaggers once you get used to it.”

“Pinners? Gaggers?” Will was rapidly getting lost.

Jack heaved a heavy sigh in Will’s direction. “Pinners are the small ones. Thin. Gaggers are the fatter ones. I don’t want you getting sick so, we’ll start small and build.”

Before he began, Jack rummaged around in the end table grabbing an ashtray from inside. He then exited the room and returned moments later with another. “I don’t want any roach burns. I don’t care about the carpet but my clothes take enough of a beating without my burning holes in them.”

Will slid back over and watched as Jack settled down cross legged on the bed. He reached down and removed his knife from his belt, looking at Will pointedly over his brow (busted! And warning received.), before he proceeded to cut the buds. After a small pile had been created, he took out some paper and rolled the pinners by filling them with the cut up buds. He rolled the paper a bit to settle the insides and then licked the edge. He was careful to ensure that the edge caught and then licked over it once more for good measure. He then placed little curled, ripped off notebook pieces into one end to act as a filter and keep his fingers blister free. Then he repeated the entire performance. Will was duly, and ashamedly, impressed.

Satisfied with his work Jack sat back. “There. Two tickets to paradise.”

Will accepted his fate with a tentative smile. “Jack Sparrow’s guide to debauchery?”

“Ten easy steps, Turner,” Jack grinned.

Leaning back, the other man reached pulled out a lighter and lit one for Will. Handing it over, he reached for his own.

“Um...” Will eyed the thing in his hand with trepidation.

Jack decided that observation was the best teacher. Taking a drag, he held his breath, and by the look on his face he was enjoying the smell and the feel and the light burn nothing like the torture currently slithering across Will’s crimson body.

After he had taken a few more drags, Will managed to get up the nerve to try it, after a quick “You sure this will help my burn?”, to which Jack simply shrugged a “Can’t hurt it.”

The coughing didn’t last too long.

Within a few minutes, the first ones were gone and Jack was busy rolling more.

A half hour later, they were both pleasantly gone.


Jack’s mouth was dry and he slowly licked his cracked lips. Eyeing Will sprawled all over the bed he noticed the younger man’s eyes were a bit bloodshot. They were also lightly glazed and he watched as the boy ran his hand through his hair, taking deep breath as if to slow a racing heart. He seemed distracted.

“Will, don’t buzz out on me,” Jack said, reaching over to shake his shoulder.

“Wha...” Will startled, then stretched a little. “I’m hungry,” he finally managed to get out.

“I’ll go find us something. What are you in the mood for?”

“I’m not sure.”

“The munchies aren’t exactly specific but you can definitely get a craving. So what are you craving?” Jack prodded.

“Munchies?” Will’s lips curved. “Aren’t those chips? What’s with you and chips, Jaaaack?”

Jack scowled. “I think I liked you better when you weren’t high.”

Will pouted back at him, Jack melted. He also slid off the bed and onto the floor with a heavy thump, then proceeded to practically crawl out of the room, leaving a disorientated looking Will behind.

Making his way to the kitchenette (who said the shortest distance between two points was a straight line anyway?) he flung the cabinet doors open one at a time with great flourish until he finally found what he was looking for. Peering blearily at the label he grinned; his luck was holding, it was extra smooth not crunchy.

A crash from behind saw him whirl about in surprise, listing precariously to one side at the end of the turn, requiring a lift of the opposite foot to balance himself.Standing there was Will, clutching the tropical bird skirt around his hips with one hand, mouth open in shock from the noise kicking the innocent wastebasket across the room had caused.

“Wow, that was loud,” he finally whispered, then squinted his eyes at what Jack held. “What’s that?”

“What…oh, this,” and he held up his hand, waggling the item, “this is my favourite weapon to combat the munchies.”

“Munchies? Aren’t those those dwarves from The Wizard of Oz?”

Jack ploughed forward, there was really nothing else he could do. “This, my young friend is peanut butter…to be eaten straight out of the jar, sans implements.”

Will’s shiny red nose crinkled adorably. “Ewww, that’s disgusting!”

Jack tutted. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.” Which upon reflection seemed to be his mantra when it came to this boy. “Besides this baby is made from one hundred percent pure organic peanuts…no chewed up newspaper for the Swann’s it would seem.”

“You’re going to put that in your mouth, just like that?” Will asked incredulously, walking over to Jack, if a little wobbly.

“No, Will,” Jack snapped back sarcastically, “I’m going to smear it all over my body! Of course I’m going to…” Jack trailed off, stared at Will, eyes widening by the second, “smear it all over *you’re* body,” he finished with a whisper.

Will backed up a step. “What are you blathering about!”

“My gran, when I was but a wee mite, she swore up and down that peanut butter was good for sunburns,” Jack explained as he wrestled the lid off the jar. “Something about the oil in it.” This was also the same woman who’d make Jack eat Vicks Vapour Rub when he’d had a cold, but he didn’t mention that.

Tossing the recalcitrant lid away like a frisbee Jack set the jar onto the counter, both he and Will leaning in close, almost check to check, to peer inside.

“You see, look at all that oil gathered at the top. The pure stuff will do that, you literally have to stir in all in before using it.”

“You are NOT smearing peanut butter all over me!”

Jack turned his face slightly, his nose brushing the lad’s jaw. “Do you want to look like a peeling onion when you are finally reunited with your lady friend? I’m sure she’ll want to ‘comfort’ you after your harrowing experience.”

Will began to waver as Jack new he would. The lad seemed unable to counteract even the shakiest of logic sent his way.

“I thought you said the marijuana was supposed to help me!” He argued.

Jack shrugged. “It did, didn’t it? You’re upright and mobile…sort of.”

Will straightened, face set in what Jack had come to know as his ‘resolved face’. “Fine, let’s do this.” The boy obviously wanted to get laid more than he feared the wrath of the peanut. Jack could help him out on that account, but not as he expected he was sure.

“I knew you’d see things my way!” Jack enthused. “Pass me a butter knife will you, so I can mix this up good.”

Will did as he was bid and found Jack the requested item, then watched as he stirred things up, making sure it was mixed well, oily and gloopy, runny peanut butter running over the sides of the jar and onto the counter. When he was finally satisfied with the consistency he turned to Will.

“Alright, drop the birds.” And so it begins.

Will clutched at the wrap tighter. “What? No. Why?”

“You don’t want me to get peanut butter all over it do you?” Shakier and shakier.

Will sighed. “I suppose not.” And he let the material go to slid down his legs with a swish.

Jack couldn’t believe he fell for it. Either it was the drugs or the boy was the biggest sucker on the planet. Jack hoped with all his lecherous little heart it was the latter. Ohhhh please let it be the latter.

Not even trying to conceal his appreciative looks, he never really had since the moment he’d met the boy, Jack stepped forward, jar in hand. “Okay we’ll start at the top and work our way down.”

Will nodded his ascent and stood his ground, tilting his chin up. Jack smothered his grin and dipped his fingers into the peanut butter, reaching out to dab Will on the nose. Once he pulled his hand back they both smiled foolishly at each other.

Ruddy earlobes were next, cheek bones, and the hollow of an elegant neck. Peanut butter was massaged into broad shoulders, as the fine body began to relax, then down well formed pectorals. Will did stiffen slightly when Jack had swirled some around his nipples, but did not pull away.

“Hey, I’m still hungry,” he blurted as Jack ran a finger contemplatively along his tan line. “Weren’t you supposed to find me something?”

“Right’o,” Jack nodded his head. “Sorry about that, I seemed to have gotten…distracted.” He scooped out more peanut butter and raised his fingers up to Will’s mouth. “Here.”

Will eyed the fingers, reached out and encircled Jack’s wrist with his hand, pulling them towards his lips. He enveloped them, sucking and licking, swallowing the peanut butter thickly. When all trace of the substance had been consumed he pushed the glistening fingers out of his mouth with his tongue, regarding Jack carefully.

“This is all very obvious, you know.”

“Really?” Jack replied. “What’s obvious?” Easy does it Jack, play it dumb.

“What you’re trying to do.”


“You’re trying to seduce me.”

Jack scoffed. “You’re toasted!” Deny everything! Deny everything!

“I am not toasted!” Very indignant that. “I’m slightly toasted.” Will put his index finger and thumb together about a quarter of an inch apart to show Jack how slight this toasted supposedly was.

“Ah,” Jack nodded his understanding. “So you’re not toasted enough not to not realize what I’m doing, but you’re toasted enough to let me keep doing it, do I have things right?”


“Spectacular!” Jack smiled wide. “Makes things sooo much easier.” And with that he plunged his hand back into the jar, then out to envelope Will’s cock in a peanut buttery grip.

Will stumbled back in surprise, catching himself by bracing his hands on the counter behind him. His back arched and he let out a huff of heated breath.

“What…oh shit! What are you doing? I don’t have a burn on my dick if you haven’t noticed.”

“Eh,” Jack shrugged, sliding his hand up and down Will’s rapidly filling column of flesh. “I’m just copping a cheap feel.”

Will’s head rolled on his shoulders. “Figures,” he ground out.

By this time Jack’s studious attention to Will’s erection had coaxed a respectable amount of pre-come to leak from the slit, all of it mixing with the warming peanut butter. All and all the combination was amazingly slippery, something Jack would have to remember. Perhaps he could patent it and make his first million selling lube.

When he was satisfied with Will’s tumescence (just this side painful) he sunk down to his knees before the other man could object. Tossing the jar over his shoulder (it had served its purpose) an explosion of peanut butter splattered across the floor and cupboards like blowback from a bullet wound. Paying the mess no mind he passed the cock from his hand to his mouth seamlessly (man, he could have been a relay runner), slapping his now unoccupied hand onto Will’s bony hip for balance, depositing the runny peanut butter cum body fluid combo with a wet thwap. Will jerked from both the blow and Jack’s suckling mouth letting out a strangled little gurgle Jack found endearing.

Swirling his tongue around the flared head of Will’s cock he savoured the flavour upon his palate like a fine wine. The taste…the taste was interesting too. Sharp and cloying cut with a deeper, earthy tang. Edible lube, then, definitely have to make it edible.

Speaking of edible, Jack snuck his hands around to grip those wonderfully flexing lily white cheeks, pulling the young man forward, deeper into his mouth. He took a deep breath through his mouth, cool air breezing past Will’s heated flesh, causing the panted breaths to hitch, before he swallowed the entire length as far down his throat at he could manage.

A mindless thrust and a yowl later and Jack was swallowing great jets of creamy, peanut butter laden ejaculate. Huh, who’d have thought there was something out there which complemented peanut butter better than chocolate? You really did learn something new every day.

Pulling back while continuing to hold a shaky Will up by the ass he looked up at the dishevelled young man. He’d begun to sweat and the peanut butter covering his body was running in places like bad stage makeup.

“You really shouldn’t have swallowed,” the boy breathed down at him. “You’ve no idea where I’ve been.”

Jack let out a quick bark of laughter. “I know where you’ve been Will Turner, and it isn’t anywhere I’m worried about.”

Levering himself to his feet Jack cast a quick speculative look down at the bulge in his own pants then back up at Will’s face.

“I’m not putting that in my mouth if that’s what you’re thinking. I have a pretty good idea where’ve *you’ve* been and it definitely worries *me*,” the boy informed him.

Jack was disappointed but not surprised. The boy would have to be on something way more serious than a bit of pot before he sucked Jack’s dick that was for sure.

“How about a little frottage?” he supplied hopefully.

“You want cheese? Now?” Will asked confused.

“Not cheese!” Jack snipped exasperated. “Rubbing. As in my cock on yours.”

Will looked to be thinking about it for a moment before shaking his head. “Mine’s a little sensitive at the moment. Besides I’m not letting you rub against my burn, it’ll only make it worse.”

Jack screwed up his face. “Then how about you jerk me off?”

“What, like in some high school locker room? No way!”

“Well, what do you want?!” Jack seethed, he was loosing his erection, and he did not want to walk away form this encounter with nothing to show for it other than the idea for a new sex product.

Will paused then turned around, his hands clutched around the edge of the counter, bowing his back. “How about some backage.”

“That’s not even a word!” Jack pointed out, undoing the front of his pants anyway, eyes fixed on Will’s perfectly pert rear end.

“If frottage is a word than so is backage!” Will argued. “It just means the opposite.”

“Whatever you say, love,” Jack placated, stepping up to the other man and reaching around to drag his hands over his peanut butter and sweat coated chest, gather a good amount on his hand.

“Just make sure you don’t touch my burns,” Will warned.

“On my honour I shall only touch your ass,” Jack promised, snickering at the words even as they left his mouth.

Slicking his erection well, pumping it a few times for good measure, Jack eased the sides of Will’s ass apart to nestle his cock in place. Between that dark little cleft it was warm and soft and just as good as he’d hoped. Nudging his hips forward he slid his erection up further, attempting to keep his balance so the two of them only touched where cock met ass. There were a few precarious moments where Jack worried he might tumbled forward onto the lad, and he very much wanted to drape his body over the taunt back, but in the end a satisfying rhythm was establishing by simply gripping Will by the hips and instructing him to counter Jack’s own thrust by meeting them.

They rocked together for some time, Will squeezing his legs together at irregular intervals, tightening the channel flanking Jack’s cock deliciously. Every now and then they thrust hard enough for their balls to brush tantalisingly up against each other. Jack even gathered the nerve to lean forward and lick at Will’s ear, nibbling at the lobe and being rewarded with a burst of more peanut butter and sweat across his tongue. It was all very erotic in a strange, Jack Sparrow’s life, sort of way; one man almost purple with sunburn, glossy with sweat and peanut butter, bent over a counter, while another man fully clothed took his pleasure between his ass, only touching at hip level, the smell of peanuts, pot, sex and a trace of oatmeal still in the air…and if Gibbs were to walk in on them just then he probably would have turned right around and walked about out, crossing himself for good measure.

Flexing his buttocks once more Will rumbled slightly deep in his chest, increasing the speed of the rhythm. It was at this point that Jack realized the other man was hard again and undertook measures to correct the matter. Fondling and sliding his roughened palm around Will’s cock he made sure his hand work stayed in counterpoint to what was going on near the rear. With the continuous stimulation Will choked out a curse in no time, exploding all over the cupboard door and Jack’s hand, muscles clenching all over. It was enough for Jack as well and he too followed the boy over the edge with a clipped grunt, emptying across the boy’s lower back and between his cheeks, wetting the crack quite well for his final desperate thrust.

Sighing in relief he moved away from the trembling body in front of him, grabbing a nearby tea- towel to clean up. Will took a deep breath and turned around, taking the proffered towel in silence, wiping himself down.

Jack raised an eyebrow, looking over the wreck before him with a critical eye. “Christ Will,” he said. “You really could use a bath.”

Will stood stock still, looked at Jack then burst out laughing.

Full circle.

The end

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