Author: Spooon (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Summary: Jack has a talented tongue in more ways than one.
Disclaimer: Who's the owner of the boys who shag for you and me? M-I-C-K-E-Y M-O-U-S-E!
Author's Note: Mariana asked for romance. Here is romance.
Author's Note 2: Never, ever ask a linguist for romance.
Jack lounged comfortably in his bunk. As Captain, he got to choose his own hours instead of having to work watch and watch with the crew. Of course, this frequently meant working three or four watches in a row, and getting but one to rest, or less, but being Captain Jack Sparrow, he accepted the responsibilities of Captaining his Pearl with the same gusto and flair with which he accepted the benefits. A notable one of which, when the sky was clear, the sea was smooth, the wind was high, and no Navy or potential prey showed on the horizon, was the ability to lie wrapped around his lover half the morning.
Only half, of course, because said lover was bloody responsible enough to insist on working watch and watch himself. Even when Jack amended the Articles to say "Getting swived by the Captain counts as work," (and Will had not been amused by that, though the rest of the crew had,) Will would only agree to *active* swiving when he was supposed to be on duty, and not lying about in post-coital lassitude. While Jack had indeed been known to go for four hours without stopping, it wasn't something he could do every single day. Even with such inspiration as young Mr. Turner.
Will sprawled when he slept. Made it very easy to wake him up with a grope to one of his various parts that could be described as "luscious". Or just admire him in his sleep. Long and lean, and bronzed, and supple, and naked. Very, very naked.
"T'es parfait, mon beau, mon trésor. Je t'aime, autant, je voudrais bien te garder à tout jamais," he whispered, stroking Will's curly hair.
"What's that?" Will asked, opening his eyes and regarding Jack curiously. Jack had really not intended for his endearments to be heard, but he had long ago made a decision never to be embarassed, so responded with his usual aplomb (which, of course, involved a hungry leer and his hand on Will's firm, delectable rump).
"French. Latin-based, of course." Will leaned up on one elbow, causing his pretty arse to shift ever so slightly under Jack's hand, so Jack naturally had to give it a quick squeeze. Will yelped and swatted at Jack's hand, so Jack assumed he must have squeezed a bit too hard, and to make up for it set about soothing the spot with his fingertips. He had just decided he had better soothe it further with his tongue when Will spoke again.
"What does it mean?"
"Eh? What does what mean?" Jack asked, and licked a long stripe over Will's abused flesh.
"Ack! The French thing you said. What does it mean?"
Jack licked the injured spot a bit more, and some of the surrounding skin as well for good measure, before answering. "It means you're my pretty boy and I love you. And I'm keepin' you."
"Really?" Jack rolled him onto his front to start laving the other side. "It wasn't anything dirtier than that?"
"You know I never lie to you about you being pretty." He swiped his tongue over Will's tailbone, then worked his way up the spine.
"Say something else in French." Will was squirming quite encouragingly, grinding into the bunk. Jack lay down on top of him, his erection slipping into the crevice.
"Quelque chose d'autre," he mumbled into the nape of Will's neck, bringing his hands up to stroke his boy's sides. "En français."
"That means 'something else in French,' doesn't it?" Will rolled to one side, dislodging Jack in the process (pity, that) to look at him suspiciously.
"Oui, c'est vrai. T'es perceptif. Maintenant, viens ici et donne-moi un baiser, s'il-te-plait." He pulled Will close, leaving no room for doubt as to what he wanted now. Will kissed him, too softly really, so Jack had to deepen it himself. When they parted, he grinned toothily. "T'es délicieux, mon amour. Tu goûtes de joie et du soleil." Flowery pap usually swayed the lovelies, though unfortunately less often when it was true than when it wasn't.
"Stop talking in French. I can't understand you." See, didn't work that time. Although Will did have the most adorable look on his face, confusion and arousal and hope that Jack would soon alleviate both of those difficulties.
"Mais tu l'as demandé " Jack tried half-heartedly, before shrugging. "Muy bien. Te amo mucho, mozuelo bonito. Mi tesoro precioso." And irritation joined the emotions across Will's face.
"Jack " Will rolled fully onto his back, and while Jack lamented the loss of that superlative bum, he couldn't be too unhappy at what was then revealed.
"¿Que? No es francés, es español." He tried to get his hand on one of those little peaked nipples (he'd learned early on not to go straight for the goods when he was feeling decidedly cheerful,) but it was smacked aside. "Spanish, love." He tried again, and got a little closer this time but was thwarted again anyway.
"Well, it sounds just like French."
"Also Latin-based, Will. Whole family of related languages." Ha, got it that time. It was a very pretty nipple, got even harder when you rubbed it. Most nipples did, of course, but this one in particular happened to be attached to Will Turner, which made everything about it noteworthy.
"Hmmmm," Will murmured, squirming delectably. The movement suddenly brought to Jack's attention the fact that his boy was no longer symmetrical. That wouldn't do at all. So he bent and wrapped his lips around the other sweet little nipple, flicking his tongue. That earned him a squeak, and hands in his hair. "Jaaaaaack "
"Tutte le lingue romantiche sono derivati dal latino." Will made a grumbling noise at Jack's switch from sucking to talking, so Jack tried to appease him by replacing his mouth with his other hand. "Sei bellissimo, carino mio."
"Have you switched languages again?" The question was breathy, as Will was starting to pant with the stimulation. Then he panted even more fetchingly as he reached down and started fondling himself. Which was actually quite fetching on its own, of course.
"Cioè italiano, caro mio, tesoro mio, innamorato mio..."
"Shut up and kiss me, Jack."
"Un bacio? Avec plaisir, namorado." Will glared at him. His frown was beautiful, too. Jack gave his absolute most charming smile, but unfortunately Will seemed to have built up a tolerance and did not melt as he usually did, so Jack just kissed him like he'd asked. Will murmured happily into Jack's mouth and tightened his grasp on his erection.
"You, Captain Sparrow, are completely mad," Will laughed breathlessly when Jack eventually gave him back his tongue.
"Oui, mais j'suis ton moineau fou." Jack accentuated the word "ton" with an affectionate tap on the very tip of Will's nose with his pointer finger. "Je vais te lêcher l'oreille." And he did. He should really lêche Will's oreille more often. It always caused such a pretty gasp.
Jack gently opened Will's hand enough to slip his own dick in alongside Will's, and wrapped his hand around as well, helping his lover to jerk them both off.
"What kind of language is English?" Will asked, starting to move into the touch. God bless his boy's experience as a blacksmith, his hands were very callused and very very strong, while his training with a sword taught him how to bend his wrist just so, in perfect rhythm.
"Germanic, love." The quality of callus was just very slightly different from Jack's own rope-roughened hands, though that difference was fading over the time Will spent on the Black Pearl. "Your own name, for example, comes from the German 'Wilhelm' meaning 'mighty helmet.' Good strong name, made for a warrior. Now in a romance language, your name would be 'Guillaume.' Or 'Guillermo,' if you like."
The sudden expression of distaste on Will's face, despite his bucking hips and the sweat beading on his brow, showed quite clearly that he did not in fact like. "Somehow the thought of you screaming 'Guillermo' at the height of ecstasy fails to thrill me. I can't say I care for 'Wilhelm', either." Boy dared to use a dry, sardonic tone of voice. Must have been teaching him well.
"That's all right, then; I don't like those names either. Can't say I'm surprised, of course, you don't even like to be called 'William.'" Jack's vision blurred somewhat as he deliberately slowed down the strokes on their combined members, but that was all right because he could remember what Will looked like. Nor did he need his eyes to be able to keep up his bright chatter. "Now just because English is germanic doesn't mean we don't have our share of Latin-derived words as well. Good, important words. Like 'Captain.' And 'Pearl.' And 'treasure.' And 'pirate.' And 'fellatio.'"
"'Fellatio?' What's thaaaaaa aaah " Will spilled over Jack's tongue, twitching in surprised pleasure. Jack licked at the smooth head until it stopped spurting, then lay back down next to Will and hugged him.
"'Orgasm' is another word from Latin."
"How about 'turnabout'? Does 'turnabout' come from Latin?" Will slid downward. And never a prettier sight than Will's head down there, doing that.
"No it doesn't, not properly. But 'reciprocation' does." Jack couldn't last long, with his precious Will still flushed with pleasure as he wrapped that beautiful mouth around Jack's dick, and he came with a deep groan, muffling it with his fist.
When Will came back up he laid his head on Jack's shoulder and entreated "Talk in French some more."
"Pourquoi? Tu ne le comprends pas."
"It's pretty," said Will, not answering the question, just commenting.
"Il y a quelque chose d'autre dans ce lit qui est aussi beau. Quelqu'un, vraiment, mais pas d'autre." Jack strategically tried his charming smile again, and this time was rewarded with Will cuddling closer and purring in contentment.
"Let's go to France. We've crossed the Atlantic three times since I've been with you, but we've never been to France." He trailed his fingers teasingly down Jack's chest with that bloody coy little smile of his. "French colonies, yes, but never the country itself. Can I fuck you? And I know it isn't landlocked. Have you ever been there? What's it like?"
Jack spread his legs. "Si tu veux. Les deux, même. Ir à la France et me fourcher. Et les ports de France sont tous les mêmes que les ports des autres pays."
"If you're answering my questions, can you switch back to English?" Will bent to fumble in the cabinet (another lovely view) and came up with their little pot of grease, then climbed on top of Jack and kissed him as he oiled them both.
"Shame about the French, really. Obsessed with raisins. Humiliated grapes, really. Think about it. Eunuchs, all of them." Will drove in harder than he usually did, clearly spurred by the familiar jibe, and Jack dug his fingers into Will's back. "They'll eat anything, too, provided it's cooked in garlic. Frogs, snails, over twenty types of mushrooms. Did you know there were that many?" Will shook his head mutely, his rolling thrusts making his hair fly forward and back as well as side to side with the gesture. Jack buried his hands in those chestnut curls and sighed happily, wrapping his legs around Will's lean waist, pulling his boy's head down so Will could suck on his neck. "You shouldn't have any problems with the exotic French cuisine, of course; you ate everything we set before you in China."
"What can I say, I'm just the adventurous type." Will's soft voice was muffled by Jack's neck but the way his lips moved was downright lovely. Then he lifted one of Jack's legs from around his waist and placed it on his shoulder, driving in hard and deep, hitting Jack's spot and making him gasp with every thrust. Raising his head, he gave Jack an incongruously gentle smile. "But that's why you kept me on, isn't it, Captain?"
"Aye," Jack concurred with some difficulty, Will's thrusts forceful enough that he knew he would be feeling it the rest of the day, still twining that pretty hair around his fingers and perhaps braiding a few strands for good measure. "I could never have a boytoy who wasn't brave enough to follow me in every daft notion I get." His eyes closed when Will's left hand, the less callused one, found his cock and began to pump.
"You're lucky I'm in a good mood and not going to complain about being called your boytoy." Lucky? Since when did Captain Jack Sparrow need luck? Jack just grinned at Will's words, and pulled his head back down to kiss him, without reopening his eyes.
"But you are my boytoy. Doing what you do best, that's it, love, right ahh, right there " and Jack thumped his head back against the pillow as his cock jerked in Will's hand, spewing its load onto their bellies.
While he was recovering he could feel lips inching along his jaw, murmuring his name over and over, and he tightened his legs around Will, opening his eyes.
"Let go, Will, come for me." He resumed stroking Will's hair, and kissed him again, and now Will's eyes fluttered shut as he shuddered through his release.
Jack stroked Will's back until his breathing evened, whispering endearments in as many languages as he could think of. Eventually Will raised his head, and pulled out, flopping back down bonelessly next to Jack.
They lay in silence together for a few moments before Jack smiled and said "France, then."
Will looked surprised. "Now?"
"Why not? Is there anyplace else we should go first?"
"Well, no, but --"
"Will, my love, you are again forgetting the most important part of being a pirate." He took Will's face in his hands and kissed him, once, a soft peck on the lips. "Freedom."
Will smiled back, then pulled away with a gasp when the ship's bell rang, twice. "I'm supposed to be on duty!" He rolled out of bed and gathered up his clothes, pausing briefly at the washstand to clean the evidence of their pleasure from his body.
"You don't need to work, you're in here with me!" Jack tried, but to no avail. Will, fully clothed, bent down and kissed him.
"You should be topside, too. We have a new course to set." Then he smiled and ran his hand through Jack's hair, getting caught on two elflocks and a string of beads, before exiting.
Jack grumbled under his breath for a few moments, not making a whole lot of sense even to himself. (Perhaps especially to himself, since other people would know better than to listen.) "bloody impertinent whelp thinks he dares to presume to tell me it's horribly rude " Then he heaved a sigh. "He's right, you know," he told the Pearl. He took a few more moments lazing in bed and then he grudgingly got up, washed, dressed, and headed out into the brilliant Caribbean sunlight.
Like this story? Send feedback to the author!