Pairing: Captain Jack Sparrow / Will Turner (FPS)
Warnings: violence, non-con
Summary: Jack captures Will on the Black Pearl with a little help from Barbossa’s men to cover up his lascivious intents.
Disclaimer: At no point do I claim any form of ownership of any of the characters depicted in this piece. My representations of them are not necessarily indicative of the intentions of their original creators. The plot in which I place these characters holds no relationship to their original context. I make no profit from borrowed characters. Don’t sue me.
Word Count: This Chapter: 3,842 [Total: 15,489]
Notes: This story is assumed to take place sometime after Will and Jack commandeer the Interceptor, but before Will knows about the curse. Elizabeth is carried by Barbossa’s crew from the Pearl to the Interceptor after the Interceptor is captured and the Pearl returned to Jack as per their exchange. Will and Jack never arrive in Tortuga. Think of it as an alternate ending, if you will.
[Part I] [Part II] [Part III]
IV. Jack’s Treachery
Jack was snoring gently on the bed and it was just before dawn. He had untied Will after his deflowering, trusting that the boy had enjoyed himself enough not to attempt mutiny, but Will had other plans. He slinked around in the darkness of the captain’s cabin, searching for Jack’s effects. Jack must’ve hidden them well because Will didn’t find them. So, he exited quietly and went to the kitchen to look for knives. He’d been stripped of his own weapons by Barbossa’s men, earlier. Will didn’t find the knives as quick as he liked, but he did find the spicket he just knew Jack had laying around for his cannibalistic ventures. He snatched it up and weighed it in his palms. That would certainly do the trick.
Will flung open the cabin door and threw himself at Jack, spicket waving wildly. Will was so enraged he didn’t bother to conceal his approach and Jack had heard him thundering down the deck well before he arrived. Jack pretended to sleep, waiting for the boy to enter. In his hysterical fit, Will applied no impressive tactics of sword fighting that he once knew. He merely lunged, aiming for Jack’s belly. Jack rolled away from Will with ease, on his feet in an instant and knocked Will a heavy blow to the back of the head, but not before Will slashed a rather nasty looking cut into Jack’s chest. Will stumbled, falling to one knee and Jack snatched the metal spicket. Jack held Will still by the hair, gripping it more than enough to hurt. He landed a blow across Will’s back with the long, metal stick, making Will twist in pain.
“What in the world did you think you were going to do with a spicket, whelp?!” Jack threw it to the ground with a clang. He removed his own dagger from his pants. No wonder Will couldn’t find it. He never would’ve thought to look there. Jack turned the boy’s head up to look at him and placed the tip of the dagger at his throat.
“Answer me, whelp.” Jack’s face was flushed and hot. His pulse was clearly visible in his neck and the muscles of his body came very near to twitching with temper. Will stammered a nonsensical response and Jack tightened his grip on Will’s hair. Will winced.
“I – I – I… I don’t know, Jack.” Jack’s face tightened into a frightening scowl. Will thought Jack might decide to kill him and he tried not to gulp so he wouldn’t touch his neck to the dagger. “I don’t know what I was doing, Jack! Please don’t kill me!” Even the boggling half-remembered events of the previous night were preferable to what Jack would do to him with a dagger. Will pleaded pitifully to be spared until Jack’s face softened a bit and some sense returned to him.
“I’m not going to kill you, boy. I’m not even going to treat you like the proper mutineer that you are.” Jack paused for effect and narrowed his eyes harshly to drive the point home, “but I am going to teach you a lesson about Captain’s privileges and how cabin boys are expected to behave. Savvy?” With a flick of the wrist, Jack twisted Will’s head and tugged him upwards by the hair, forcing Will to stand. Jack leaned backward a bit, bringing Will’s neck and the dagger along with him and took the pistol from under his pillow. Jack loosed Will’s hair and pointed the pistol at him as it was much more efficient for moving about than keeping the knife to Will’s throat.
“If you move, boy, I’ll shoot you dead where you stand. Don’t think I don’t mean that,” Jack warned. Will nodded. He could tell by the look on Jack’s face that something had changed in him. Jack was not himself. He was in a murderous rage. Jack kept the pistol cocked and pointed at Will as he walked backward through the room, maneuvering with surprising agility. Jack flicked open a chest with his heel and squatted next to it carefully, never taking his eyes from Will. Jack reached into the chest with one hand, searching for the shackles he had brought from below deck and stashed away after their previous use. Jack walked back to Will and warned him again not to move. Jack slapped a shackle around one of Will’s ankles and attached it to the bottom end of the bed, around one of the solid metal bars. Jack walked over to the open door with the key.
“Now you can move,” he said and left the room, tucking the pistol into his belt. There was nothing dangerous in the room except the spicket and Jack didn’t think Will would be able to get to it, and even if he could, Jack didn’t think he would be stupid enough to attempt anything more. Jack hid the key to the shackle in a drawer in another room with his dagger and pistol and returned to the cabin. The door was still open when he returned and he could see before he arrived that Will had seated himself on the bed dejectedly. Jack opened his hands to show Will they were empty.
“I’ve put the key well out of your reach. I haven’t got it on me person, but you’re more than welcome to plunder me pockets just in case.” Jack gave a malicious little grin and Will shied away. There was not enough grog in the world to convince him to get anywhere near Jack’s pockets again. Will was fraught with guilt that it had happened at all, let alone twice, and he was not thrilled at the prospect of it happening again. Will knew a thing or two about Captain’s privileges from stories told tentatively around dark pubs. Will felt like crying. He missed Jack’s camaraderie and he missed Elizabeth, and home and…
“Buck your chin up, whelp! The quicker you buckle the longer it’ll last!” Jack’s shout rung harshly in the small cabin and startled Will. Jack leered at him with predatory eyes. “If you can keep from crying out in anything but pleasure, I won’t go after you again.”
“Jack, please don’t… I can’t, Jack…” Again Will begged, prostrate, but Jack slapped him across the face.
“A few minutes ago you were going to kill me with a bloody spicket after all I’ve done for you, your deflowering included. And don’t try to bilge me on me anchor, you blaggard dog. I’m well aware of your response to me attentions. I’ll be the captain and the provost, this day, and you’ll learn your place.” Will swallowed hard. Jack made a terrifying provost.
Jack went to the hidden compartment in the ceiling on the other side of the cabin. He had put back the bottle of special-occasion oil the night before and this time he took out a larger, less expensive bottle. Jack handed it to Will and walked up to the table a few feet from the bed. Jack eyed the table carefully, looking critically at the height of it, and he tested its sturdiness, shaking it a good deal to make sure it wouldn’t give. Seeming satisfied, Jack dragged the table over near the bed.
Jack grabbed Will by the scruff of the neck and stood him up. Jack wrapped his fingers around Will’s sturdy belt and pulled him closer, the other hand reaching down to the back of Will’s thigh, also pulling. Will looked away, exposing the mark Jack had left on him the night before. Jack noticed it was low on Will’s neck and could be covered by a collar. When they sailed into Tortuga in the next few days, Jack wanted everyone to know who Will belonged to. Removing the hand from the belt, Jack grabbed the back of Will’s neck and latched savagely onto Will with his mouth. Jack suctioned the skin between his lips and pulled on it hard, making Will’s muscles tense for a moment. When Jack pulled away the mark was already almost purple and in the perfect spot for maximum visibility. Jack grabbed Will’s chin and forced eye contact.
“Don’t cry out,” Jack cautioned. “If you cry out, it will be worse for you.” Jack grabbed the bottle of oil from Will’s trembling hand and thumped it loudly onto the table.
“If you ask me to, I’ll ease the way for you,” Jack offered. Will shook his head. He wouldn’t give Jack the satisfaction of his request.
“Fine,” Jack retorted, “we’ll do things entirely my way.” Jack unbuttoned Will’s tunic with cold exactitude and lifted it over Will’s head. There was no tenderness in his motion as there had been before. He jerked hastily at Will’s belt, knocking the boy a bit off his balance and Jack pushed him squarely in the center of the chest. Will fell backward onto the bed and Jack wrenched Will’s pants off. He left them to hang on the ankle where the shackle secured him to the bedpost and tossed the belt aside. Jack showed no mercy in yanking the boy up to him by the wrist, but he caught Will dashingly about the waist with his wiry arm. Jack took his own shirt off gracefully and let it fall to the floor behind him. He motioned to his belt.
“Won’t you do the honors, Mr. Turner?” Will scowled and yanked at Jack’s belt and pants. His countenance was grim and angry as he tossed Jack’s hips about with the force of his movements.
“Easy on the goods, luv,” Jack commanded with a tinge of evil lurking just behind his smile. Will removed his hands and Jack slithered out of his pants. Jack kicked them away, standing proudly nude. Will looked much less confident. His shoulders slumped in defeat, his previous stiffness lay soft and uninterested. Jack didn’t seem to notice. Instead he took Will’s hand and instructed him to use it. Will touched Jack reluctantly, feeling ashamed and used. He didn’t know if he was touching Jack the right way, either. The night before, when Will had touched him, Jack had thrown his head back and bucked his hips and made noises. Now, Jack just watched Will impersonally as if he were detached from the whole ordeal. After a few minutes Will began to withdraw his hand, but Jack stopped him.
“You’re doing fine, boy,” Jack coaxed Will on, but Will shook his head. “If you insist, we can proceed to other endeavors.” Will looked confused. He didn’t know if other endeavors would be better or worse. He eyed Jack questioningly, but Jack’s expression did not waver.
“Well?” Jack asked. Will said nothing, so Jack moved in closer. He breathed in the smell of Will’s fear again and found it invigorating. Jack placed his hands on Will’s hips, moving them possessively over his sides and onto his back. Jack rubbed his hardness on Will’s thigh and growled under his breath. With a quick flourish of his body, Jack was behind Will, leaning the boy over the table beside them. Will braced himself against Jack for a moment but thought better of it when Jack pushed harder. He didn’t want to provoke Jack and he certainly wasn’t going anywhere being shackled to the bloody bedpost.
Once Jack leaned Will adequately over the table, he spread Will’s feet apart with his own. He reached across the table over Will’s back and grabbed the oil. For a moment, Will could smell Jack and he fought against becoming aroused. Again, Jack’s hands ran possessively up and down his torso, then Jack pulled away and Will heard the cork unpop. Unlike last time, Will knew what he was to be expecting now and he tensed all over.
Will was splayed marvelously, propped up on his elbows on the table. Jack watched a bead of sweat roll down Will’s spine. Will seemed to be glowing in the summer heat of the morning sun. He was shaking slightly which added to the illusion, and the moistness of his skin shone exquisitely in the dim of the cabin that reflected in off the ocean. Will was the image of debauchery, wickedness, sin… And he was Jack’s. And Jack wasn’t going to take ‘no’ for an answer ever again, even if that meant he had to break Will like an unruly stallion. In fact, Jack was truly looking forward to that breaking.
Jack moistened his finger in the oil and placed the other hand on Will’s backside. Will’s muscles tightened as Jack ran a single, calloused digit down the center of his breech. Will shuddered, but did not cry out when Jack pushed it forward. He was sore from Jack’s last assault, but Jack soon pressed on the point inside that Will had so enjoyed before and Will felt himself relax slightly. Jack didn’t waste much time on the first finger and added a second before Will could even contemplate becoming aroused. He wasn’t aroused, regardless. Laying beneath Jack on the bed, Will had felt sheltered, but bent obscenely over the table, he felt exposed. Jack gave no quarter in his onslaught and made no move toward compassion. There was no embrace, no comforting hand, no reassuring word. There were only Jack’s hands below his waist, preparing him, Will was sure, for worse yet. Jack worked diligently, never ceasing, never making a sound. He was going to break the boy and he was going to start immediately.
Jack took both hands away from Will and used them to oil his aching rigidity. Anticipation throbbed through him, almost bowling him over like cannon fire. He placed a hand firmly in the middle of Will’s back and pushed him downward so that his chest touched the table. Jack arranged himself behind Will and pushed forward just slightly. Will made a breathy sound and Jack secretly hoped the whelp would whimper or sob so he could inflict more of his intended discipline, but Jack knew it was only a matter of time.
“Don’t cry out,” Jack reminded him, in spite of himself. Will shook his head briskly. He wouldn’t dare. He only wanted Jack to finish. Hissing air out between gilded teeth, Jack thrust forward. He could both hear and feel Will trying to contain himself, though Jack could not tell whether it was from pain or pleasure or something else entirely. Will had to be sore and Jack knew it. In fact, he was quite counting on it to make the job of breaking Will easier. Will had a strong spirit, but it was sure to be no match for Jack’s maliciously nimble mind.
This time, Jack did not wait for Will to adjust. He pulled away as far as he could, watching Will’s skin stretch and cling to his own, and pushed forward again. Other than this, Jack did not touch Will at all. He wrapped his hands around the ledge of the table for leverage, cruelly ignoring Will’s shaky breaths. With every repetition, Jack pressed Will’s naked hips into the jagged wood of the table. Will winced and bit his lip as he felt a splinter ripping into his tender skin. The flesh quickly became raw and bruised, and Jack did not let up his pace. Will tried to push back at Jack to alleviate the pressure on the newly inflicted splinter, but only succeeded in being slammed back into the table at regular intervals. He decided it would be better to press onto the wood and try not to move against its grain.
Will pushed himself up a bit to avoid getting any splinters in his face. Though that area of the table seemed smooth to him, he thought it best to err on the side of caution. Jack, however, would have none of it and pushed his head down adamantly. Will bit his lip. Jack was hurting Will considerably and wounded hips were the least of his worries. The longer Jack persisted, the harder Will bit his lip, trying to ignore the various pains in his body. He strained himself against Jack’s persistence and then realized he’d broken a large and bloody hole in his own lip. He let out an audible gasp and Jack retaliated ruthlessly. Will hadn’t exactly cried out, but Jack sensed he was close to it and he crashed into Will to drive the cry from him. It worked. A strangled noise wrenched from Will’s throat, like a scream but without enough air to follow through. Will tried to fight the noise, but it was too late to close his mouth and Jack cackled in triumph.
Jack bent low and whispered darkly into Will’s ear, “now, you’re really in for it, whelp.” Will tried not to imagine Jack’s sinister plan. He bit his lip again and when his teeth pressed into the injured flesh he let out a second cry. This cry was more like a sob than the first and Jack sped what had been a languid but powerful pace. Reveling in dominance, Jack set the rhythm quick and brutal. Jack’s eyes blazed fierce and animalistic when Will twisted about and chanced a brief glance. Jack let him look. The blood from the cut Will had inflicted mingled with Jack’s sweat and rolled down his chest. The kohl around his eyes was even more rebellious than usual from his sleep. Jack’s hair flew out in all directions, beads clinking jarringly in time to his movements. His muscles were tense and his skin was flushed and dirty. Jack’s mouth twisted and warped into what Will imagined was supposed to be a smile, but Jack just looked like a madman. He was wild, ferocious, incensed, relentless. Jack didn’t have to tell Will to turn around because the sight of Jack’s face scared him so much he no longer wished to look.
Jack abused Will forcefully causing Will to yelp and pant. If Will let his cries become too unencumbered, Jack let loose a flurry of movements to quiet him. He wanted Will to try for composure. And if Will thought Jack could do no worse, then Jack did precisely that, until Will became so desperately afraid that he began to hold his breath. Jack would angle himself downward, then, hitting Will’s sensitive spot and forcing Will to gasp. When Will was looking like he could take no more, and Jack could see as the side of Will’s face rested on the table that he was turning pale, Jack angled his pelvis just so and rubbed himself on that spot again and again. Will begged Jack to stop, preferring any pain to the horror of becoming involuntarily aroused, but Jack refused to stop. He jabbed repeatedly at the overworked bit of flesh until Will sobbed in earnest. He heaved and wept and begged Jack to stop until he lost his breath. Will collapsed onto the table and persisted to let fall the tears until he felt he had none left.
And then he just said, “Jack… I can’t… I can’t take anything more. Please, Jack. I’m so sorry. Never again, Jack… Please…” Will struggled for coherence, knowing that this plea would be the last he could muster with any degree of lucidity. Will sighed, feeble and defeated, and Jack finally put his hands on Will. He touched the boy’s back gently and pulled himself away. Jack swiftly retrieved a spare key from somewhere in the room that Will could not distinguish, and unlocked Will’s leg. Jack stood the boy up carefully and lead him to the bed. Will winced, but laid down on his side. Jack knelt beside Will and rolled him onto his back. Jack sat between Will’s thighs and used the oil to rub Will’s half-hardness. Such an attack on a man’s innards would always stiffen him to some degree, Jack knew, and so figured that Will was probably in no mood at all. But that was irrelevant. Will had learned his place and the Captain fully intended to finish his privilege.
“Come on, Will. Ol’ Jack is playin’ nice, now. Just relax and I’ll give you all you need.” Jack leaned back and took his jacket off the opposite bedpost. Reaching into a pocket, he pulled out a little container of salve, which he applied carefully to Will’s hips with his cleaner hand. Will felt the sting almost subside and he sighed in relief. Jack put the salve on the shelf and rubbed his hand against Will’s chest, calming him. Will still kept his eyes closed, too petrified to look at Jack for fear of seeing the terrible expression from earlier, but they weren’t scrunched shut anymore. Even if Will had looked, Jack’s face had softened again and fury had been replaced by warmth. Jack wrapped his hand around Will as he became harder, in spite of himself. Will tried not to respond to Jack, but the fingers were talented and practiced.
“That’s it, luv,” Jack persuaded. He hung over Will’s torso and kissed him on the mouth, waiting patiently for Will to part his lips. Even Jack’s tongue was gentler, as he soothed Will and guided him toward arousal. Will was shattered and did not protest when Jack placed a finger behind him again. Will forced himself to relax and in a moment Jack had oiled Will up again. Jack propped Will’s lower half up with the fabric that was his pillow and coerced Will’s legs apart. Jack pushed forward and Will accepted him as best he could, voicing no complaint as Jack wrapped Will’s legs around his own back.
Jack moved slowly and tenderly, leaning close over Will and embracing him as best he could. Will turned his head toward Jack and let his face touch Jack’s cheek, feeling the coarse hairs and flashy beads rub against his skin. Jack pulled back some and watched Will’s mouth fall open as Jack stoked the flame inside Will’s body. He reached between them, taking hold of Will who was now fully hard. Will gave a grateful moan and squeezed Jack tighter with his legs. Jack could take no more and his hand flew quicker and quicker. Will grabbed Jack’s shoulders tightly as Jack pitched and rolled so raucously that Will feared the ship would rock in cadence. The pressing and rubbing against Will’s flesh became too much in combination with Jack’s fist and just as Jack reached the edge of his peak, Will spilled silently over Jack’s hand.
Will shook and held onto Jack tightly while Jack caught his breath. Will was totally overwhelmed. Jack pried Will off him with a kiss that belied the violence he’d just inflicted and withdrew, taking the cloth from under Will’s bottom and wiping the boy clean.
“Jack…” Will breathed. “Thank you.”
“All in a day’s work, Mr. Turner.”
“Shh, luv. Sleep, now.” Jack climbed down beside Will, pulling a blanket over them both and draping his arm over Will’s shuddering chest. Will sidled closer to the warmth of Jack’s skin and slept.