Exacting Payment
< caution tape >
So, yeah, this is totally not PtT. I know I know I KNOW I should be writing it.
But this isn't it.
Title: Exacting Payment
Author: -M
Fandom: PotC
Pairing: J/W
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jack's back again, and Will still likes his car. Zoom-zoom, y'all.
Warnings: Absolutely no plot. A shameless display of bare feet, disregard for a fine paint job, buttsex, and mentions of sunburn. Also some fun language, but you know you like it.
Feedback: My deep dark secret addiction.
Disclaimer: If PotC were mine, this so would have been filmed instead of the "fomg Will plz touchmyboob kthxistoleyourjewelry" scene.
Unbetaed, so all errors are mine and should be brought to my attention with the utmost speed and harshness. Please?
**EXACTING PAYMENT**
Some would call it fate that brought Jack back to that gas station in the middle of nowhere, others would say 'The criminal always returns to the scene of the crime.' Jack figured he'd gotten away with it once; he might as well try again. But Will was a 'fool me once' type of person, apparently, because as soon as he saw that red convertible, glossy and glaring and unaffected by the everywhere dust, saw it purling up and popping rocks out behind it, he stepped out from the awning's shelter and folded his arms across his chest. The sun bit into his cheekbones, his shoulders, and the tops of his feet, but he would not let it chase him back to the shade.
"You never paid."
"Didn't I?" Will didn't let the sway of Jack's hips as he snapped the door shut distract him. But when Jack walked right up to the boy and smirked with half of his mouth, Will decided he very much wanted to lean forward and lick the teeth on display. He did, and before he knew it Jack had sucked the tongue into his mouth and dug his fingers into Will's wet sweaty curls. With a quick jerk and a small growl, he had tilted Will's head enough that their lips welded together around exchanging tongues. Will's tortured groan when Jack oozed away was a foregone conclusion. "I really thought I had."
Oh was he still on that? There were much more pressing items at the moment, and two of them were pressing into each other and pinning Will's jeans to the wall. "No, you didn't. You really -" Will gasped as Jack nipped a track up the side of his neck " -really didn’t."
"Well then." Jack licked around from the back to the front of Will's ear and slid his tongue inside, and Will wailed for a split second with a wide-open jaw and visible teeth before he combined a moan and a sigh and replaced it with that. Jack leaned back, that made his hips counter forwards, and the new cold inside Will's ear had him shivering and pressing in all the wrong but too, too right places. Jack stepped backwards and it all went away. "You have every right to exact payment."
It was less than a thought before Will took him up on the offer and oh the boy really liked that car, didn't he? The heat from the hood, combined solar and engine and body and environmental, baked up through Jack's pants and his coat. He squirmed and grabbed Will's hips to pull the boy hard and fast between his legs, jammed right up against him just there and it was perfect and he hated it because Will ground his hips. "Fuck…" It was no more than a breath, and possibly a prayer to the gods of dust and hot days and hotter boys, but Will heard it and answered.
"That was exactly my plan." The kid was fast, and Jack considered telling him he should have been a thief, with his hands, not a gas station attendant in the sticks, but he didn't have time before his pants and skivs were at his knees and Will was on his and between them. Between lollipop licks mostly up and sometimes down - there was something to be said for the three-year-old treatment, and it was staring Jack in the face and making him wish every part of him could crawl down and settle between his legs where a burning tongue was setting a hellish taunting rhythm - Will flatly asked, "When was the last time you showered?"
"…The hell…? That's a shit question." Jack writhed concisely to remind Will of what he should have been doing, but the tongue remained infuriatingly behind the lips, appearing only to talk.
"I know you're on the run. You stole a car. You don't have every luxury of time and hotels. When?"
"Little shitfuck…"
"I'm not, and that's the point."
"This morning. I'm civilized that way."
"And in very few others…" Will's quip was so low in his throat and quiet that Jack wasn't sure he heard it. He sighed in relief and dropped his head when that tongue went back where it belonged, and then it traveled lower and hell, there went Jack's plan for a non-stiff neck that day. He pushed up on his elbows.
"You're not going to… kid, that's disgusti-i-oh God. Oh my… Oh my God." Jack's elbows screeched out from under him and he landed back on the hood with a possibly dent-leaving thud. He couldn't see it, but he was certain the kid was smirking. He felt hands - big hands, disproportionate, coltish hands - brace themselves into his inner thighs, and damnit he was lifting his hips to help. But oh, what a tongue could do, what a boy could do, what a boy with a tongue could do and "holy shit" he was done for, he was coming, then and there and with a tongue inside him and he'd have to remember that trick, because… yes.
Will murmured something about his wrists cramping up and ducked down and out then stood up, pushing Jack's coat open and stripping Jack's shirt off, unzipping his own pants and leaving them behind. He was hard as a rock and shining like a mirage, with sweat and heat and need. Jack slithered down onto his knees, back against the searing chrome grill, eyelids still heavy because the muscles that held them up were short a quart of blood, throat dry and sticking together, lips cracked and he could already feel the sunburn starting across his chest, and swallowed down around Will. But the boy pulled him away and pulled him up, let his fingers count the crossmarks already starting to brand into Jack's back, and dropped him back onto the hood, keeping him there with a knee held between his legs. Constant steady bodyweight pressure. The boy was Satan. And Jack came to terms with the phrase 'quick recovery.'
Keeping that leg just where it was (thank god thank god oh god I hate you), Will doubled over and burned his mouth into Jack's chest with licks and sucks that took the blazing slicing sun on the dry crackling dust and made it merely tepid. In comparison. Not in combination. In combination, Jack entirely expected to be back-to-hood with a carbomb. But he wasn't, thankfully, and Will was nearly explosive against his hip. Jack writhed and ground against the boy's knee. "Fuck. Now." Will looked up and his lips curled.
"I thought it was supposed to be you, paying me?" He stretched and reached, trying to get to the glovebox, but Jack sluiced down, molten fury, and licked him straight from the reaching-back bottom to the swirling-around tip.
"Now." The word was heavy and thick and it hit Will right in the gut with aftershock lower. He hauled Jack up in an amplified déja-vu, then broke the repetition, tugged the legs apart, and arched in with a snarl.
It wasn't fast or sudden, but he didn't take his time. Jack curved off the car, because the burning metal and the burning friction were mutually exclusive. When tears sprang naturally to the corners of his eyes, even they were spikes of liquid heat. Will grit his teeth and hissed once, letting the steam escape a little before he took up pounding and sweeping. Jack's spine was bent as much as it could be, and it ached so that he thought he cold snap in half and if he had to he hoped his brain would choose to stay with his lower half because it was having an incredible time of things once Will found the angle that made white gold spout from everything and rain down pinpoint fire all over Jack's skin.
Both their eyes rolled shut, practical as well because it blocked out the ever-present dust in the air, and they were both gasping knives and daggers in the blazing summer western flatland sun. Jack wound his legs in anatomically impossible spirals around Will's, just to get closer, get him farther, deeper.
And deeper he went, and deeper he came, and Jack came after, and for the second time that day the sun baked his sticky stomach almost dry by the time he realized it'd begun to try. He batted at it half-heartedly with his castaway shirt; it was all he could to, he couldn't even consider standing yet. The heat was too heavy.
Will walked away and pulled his pants back on, didn't bother to tuck his shirt in, and Jack watched the crumpled shirttails as they walked over to the pump and started filling the tank of Jack's car. "You owe me twenty-five thirty."
Jack peeled himself off the car and fished around the pockets of his collapsed pants for his wallet, tugged his pants up, grabbed an assortment of bills, and stuck them to Will's sweat-pooled palm. "You're such a whore."
"No I'm not…" Will's eyes sparkled and he almost-laughed through his continuing words- "I didn't charge you for last time."
"Yeah, but last time I fucked you."
A scrape, a click, low clank, twist, jangle, rumble, two matching laughs, and Jack drove off, tires spitting gravel behind him.
My Two Cents: Where did this come from? Why must I soil a lovely one-shot, one with nice writing and even a hint of plot with a freaking SEQUEL? Yes well anyway I wrote this whole thing while listening to "Desert Rose" by Sting. I have so many better things I could be writing right now... but no. This. I want to hang my hormones.
< /caution tape >
So, yeah, this is totally not PtT. I know I know I KNOW I should be writing it.
But this isn't it.
Title: Exacting Payment
Author: -M
Fandom: PotC
Pairing: J/W
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Jack's back again, and Will still likes his car. Zoom-zoom, y'all.
Warnings: Absolutely no plot. A shameless display of bare feet, disregard for a fine paint job, buttsex, and mentions of sunburn. Also some fun language, but you know you like it.
Feedback: My deep dark secret addiction.
Disclaimer: If PotC were mine, this so would have been filmed instead of the "fomg Will plz touchmyboob kthxistoleyourjewelry" scene.
Unbetaed, so all errors are mine and should be brought to my attention with the utmost speed and harshness. Please?
**EXACTING PAYMENT**
Some would call it fate that brought Jack back to that gas station in the middle of nowhere, others would say 'The criminal always returns to the scene of the crime.' Jack figured he'd gotten away with it once; he might as well try again. But Will was a 'fool me once' type of person, apparently, because as soon as he saw that red convertible, glossy and glaring and unaffected by the everywhere dust, saw it purling up and popping rocks out behind it, he stepped out from the awning's shelter and folded his arms across his chest. The sun bit into his cheekbones, his shoulders, and the tops of his feet, but he would not let it chase him back to the shade.
"You never paid."
"Didn't I?" Will didn't let the sway of Jack's hips as he snapped the door shut distract him. But when Jack walked right up to the boy and smirked with half of his mouth, Will decided he very much wanted to lean forward and lick the teeth on display. He did, and before he knew it Jack had sucked the tongue into his mouth and dug his fingers into Will's wet sweaty curls. With a quick jerk and a small growl, he had tilted Will's head enough that their lips welded together around exchanging tongues. Will's tortured groan when Jack oozed away was a foregone conclusion. "I really thought I had."
Oh was he still on that? There were much more pressing items at the moment, and two of them were pressing into each other and pinning Will's jeans to the wall. "No, you didn't. You really -" Will gasped as Jack nipped a track up the side of his neck " -really didn’t."
"Well then." Jack licked around from the back to the front of Will's ear and slid his tongue inside, and Will wailed for a split second with a wide-open jaw and visible teeth before he combined a moan and a sigh and replaced it with that. Jack leaned back, that made his hips counter forwards, and the new cold inside Will's ear had him shivering and pressing in all the wrong but too, too right places. Jack stepped backwards and it all went away. "You have every right to exact payment."
It was less than a thought before Will took him up on the offer and oh the boy really liked that car, didn't he? The heat from the hood, combined solar and engine and body and environmental, baked up through Jack's pants and his coat. He squirmed and grabbed Will's hips to pull the boy hard and fast between his legs, jammed right up against him just there and it was perfect and he hated it because Will ground his hips. "Fuck…" It was no more than a breath, and possibly a prayer to the gods of dust and hot days and hotter boys, but Will heard it and answered.
"That was exactly my plan." The kid was fast, and Jack considered telling him he should have been a thief, with his hands, not a gas station attendant in the sticks, but he didn't have time before his pants and skivs were at his knees and Will was on his and between them. Between lollipop licks mostly up and sometimes down - there was something to be said for the three-year-old treatment, and it was staring Jack in the face and making him wish every part of him could crawl down and settle between his legs where a burning tongue was setting a hellish taunting rhythm - Will flatly asked, "When was the last time you showered?"
"…The hell…? That's a shit question." Jack writhed concisely to remind Will of what he should have been doing, but the tongue remained infuriatingly behind the lips, appearing only to talk.
"I know you're on the run. You stole a car. You don't have every luxury of time and hotels. When?"
"Little shitfuck…"
"I'm not, and that's the point."
"This morning. I'm civilized that way."
"And in very few others…" Will's quip was so low in his throat and quiet that Jack wasn't sure he heard it. He sighed in relief and dropped his head when that tongue went back where it belonged, and then it traveled lower and hell, there went Jack's plan for a non-stiff neck that day. He pushed up on his elbows.
"You're not going to… kid, that's disgusti-i-oh God. Oh my… Oh my God." Jack's elbows screeched out from under him and he landed back on the hood with a possibly dent-leaving thud. He couldn't see it, but he was certain the kid was smirking. He felt hands - big hands, disproportionate, coltish hands - brace themselves into his inner thighs, and damnit he was lifting his hips to help. But oh, what a tongue could do, what a boy could do, what a boy with a tongue could do and "holy shit" he was done for, he was coming, then and there and with a tongue inside him and he'd have to remember that trick, because… yes.
Will murmured something about his wrists cramping up and ducked down and out then stood up, pushing Jack's coat open and stripping Jack's shirt off, unzipping his own pants and leaving them behind. He was hard as a rock and shining like a mirage, with sweat and heat and need. Jack slithered down onto his knees, back against the searing chrome grill, eyelids still heavy because the muscles that held them up were short a quart of blood, throat dry and sticking together, lips cracked and he could already feel the sunburn starting across his chest, and swallowed down around Will. But the boy pulled him away and pulled him up, let his fingers count the crossmarks already starting to brand into Jack's back, and dropped him back onto the hood, keeping him there with a knee held between his legs. Constant steady bodyweight pressure. The boy was Satan. And Jack came to terms with the phrase 'quick recovery.'
Keeping that leg just where it was (thank god thank god oh god I hate you), Will doubled over and burned his mouth into Jack's chest with licks and sucks that took the blazing slicing sun on the dry crackling dust and made it merely tepid. In comparison. Not in combination. In combination, Jack entirely expected to be back-to-hood with a carbomb. But he wasn't, thankfully, and Will was nearly explosive against his hip. Jack writhed and ground against the boy's knee. "Fuck. Now." Will looked up and his lips curled.
"I thought it was supposed to be you, paying me?" He stretched and reached, trying to get to the glovebox, but Jack sluiced down, molten fury, and licked him straight from the reaching-back bottom to the swirling-around tip.
"Now." The word was heavy and thick and it hit Will right in the gut with aftershock lower. He hauled Jack up in an amplified déja-vu, then broke the repetition, tugged the legs apart, and arched in with a snarl.
It wasn't fast or sudden, but he didn't take his time. Jack curved off the car, because the burning metal and the burning friction were mutually exclusive. When tears sprang naturally to the corners of his eyes, even they were spikes of liquid heat. Will grit his teeth and hissed once, letting the steam escape a little before he took up pounding and sweeping. Jack's spine was bent as much as it could be, and it ached so that he thought he cold snap in half and if he had to he hoped his brain would choose to stay with his lower half because it was having an incredible time of things once Will found the angle that made white gold spout from everything and rain down pinpoint fire all over Jack's skin.
Both their eyes rolled shut, practical as well because it blocked out the ever-present dust in the air, and they were both gasping knives and daggers in the blazing summer western flatland sun. Jack wound his legs in anatomically impossible spirals around Will's, just to get closer, get him farther, deeper.
And deeper he went, and deeper he came, and Jack came after, and for the second time that day the sun baked his sticky stomach almost dry by the time he realized it'd begun to try. He batted at it half-heartedly with his castaway shirt; it was all he could to, he couldn't even consider standing yet. The heat was too heavy.
Will walked away and pulled his pants back on, didn't bother to tuck his shirt in, and Jack watched the crumpled shirttails as they walked over to the pump and started filling the tank of Jack's car. "You owe me twenty-five thirty."
Jack peeled himself off the car and fished around the pockets of his collapsed pants for his wallet, tugged his pants up, grabbed an assortment of bills, and stuck them to Will's sweat-pooled palm. "You're such a whore."
"No I'm not…" Will's eyes sparkled and he almost-laughed through his continuing words- "I didn't charge you for last time."
"Yeah, but last time I fucked you."
A scrape, a click, low clank, twist, jangle, rumble, two matching laughs, and Jack drove off, tires spitting gravel behind him.
My Two Cents: Where did this come from? Why must I soil a lovely one-shot, one with nice writing and even a hint of plot with a freaking SEQUEL? Yes well anyway I wrote this whole thing while listening to "Desert Rose" by Sting. I have so many better things I could be writing right now... but no. This. I want to hang my hormones.
< /caution tape >