POTC fic: "Say Uncle" (modern AU)
Title: "Say Uncle"
Rating: NC-17
POTC J/W (PWP slash)
Disclaimer: They do not belong to me; I'm just playing with them for no profit.
Summary: Continuation of a series of six drabbles I wrote three years ago. It's modern AU Turrow. Hopefully humorous. (NOT incest, despite the title; just experimental.)
A/N: Read over by metalkatt - any lingering mistakes are my own. (ETA: I just realized this was probably unconsciously inspired by yxonomei's A Shot Through Time, which I adore. Thanks for the ideas that stayed in my brain for so long!)
Feedback: If you like.
Jack resolved not to so much as touch his best friend’s son. He certainly wasn’t going to fuck the boy, no matter how Will made his cock throb or his balls blue or his heart pound.
He’d ignored the blatant sexual invitation when Will had showed up in his kitchen last night. Ducking away from the trailing fingers across his neck, Jack had become the genial host, offering to take Will out for Chinese. The younger man had looked momentarily puzzled, then grinned. “All right, Jack,” he’d said, going along with the invitation. Throughout dinner, he’d been openly amused, though focused on Jack and paying great attention to everything he said. It had been unnerving, and uncomfortable - and it was unconscionable of Jack to want to take that to bed.
When they got back to Jack’s place, he’d made an excuse about having to get up early, firmly put Will in his guest room, and made sure to shut his own bedroom door. He’d thought about locking it, too, but had decided it was silly. What’s he going to do, rape me? he wondered.
But it wouldn’t be rape if he were willing …
He’d awakened early, showered and dressed hastily before Will could get up, and had left the house without more than a glance inside the guest room to make sure Will was still asleep. He’d spent the day following a couple of skip-traces and picked up some easy money, which took his mind off the heady temptation back home. He wondered how long Will planned to stay, alternately wanting to push him onto the first flight back to Connecticut, and kiss him stupid. At some point he’d stopped seeing Will Turner as a curious, over-bright gawky boy - he wasn’t sure when, but he sure wished that image had evolved into almost anything other than as the object of all of Jack’s carnal desires.
When he walked into his kitchen from the garage, the scent of cheese blend and peppered sausage filled his senses. Will was ladling noodles out of a large pot into a large shallow dish. He glanced at Jack and nodded back toward the refrigerator. “I know you’re not supposed to chill red wine, but I like it better that way.”
He paused, very still. Everybody knew you fed a date Italian when you wanted to sleep with them - the combination of rich flavors and thick pasta and heady wine all served as a mating dance, really. More importantly, Will knew this, because Jack had taught him long ago, when the kid was in high school, to help him impress his senior prom date. “I’m not going to bed with you,” he announced very clearly.
“Don’t be an ass,” Will snorted, shaking his head. “I’m just doing something nice for you, since you saved my life. I owe you.”
“Oh.” Jack hated the disappointment in his gut. It wasn’t decent to want to fuck Bill’s kid - even if he was starting to look at the up-slope to thirty.
“Honestly,” Will was muttering as he turned and set plates on the island in the center of the kitchen. “You’d think that’s all that’s on your mind. Maybe it says more about what you’re thinking than what I am. I know the difference between gratitude and whoring myself out.”
“Fine,” Jack almost growled, to shut him up. “You know where the glasses are?”
“I suppose I can find them easily enough.”
A few minutes later, they were seated on opposite sides of the island, planted on stools, silently cutting into Italian sausage in thick red sauce and vegetables, drizzled generously over penne, sipping from brandy snifters of wine at Will’s insistence - he said it tasted better that way. Jack didn’t argue, remembering the younger Will’s fascination with the odd-shaped glasses in Jack’s cabinet. When he’d visited as a young boy, he’d made Jack serve their soda in the glasses, always over lots of ice and with straws, while they’d flipped through the newspaper and comic books and ate grilled cheese.
Jack took refuge in the benign memory as he chewed, hoping it meant a return to sense. Will was well into his adult years but still far too young and well-known to Jack for him to comfortably fuck. (What about uncomfortably? he wondered, the notion giving him ideas of inappropriate places to run his hands over the solid muscles and broad, naked shoulders he’d seen while patching up various wounds across Central America.)
He reached for his glass and took a large sip to quench the heat that flared at the idea of rubbing his palms and fingers all over Will. He happened to glance over the rim and caught the object of his desire watching him intently, all large dark eyes and furrowed brows. Will licked his lips, and Jack took another gulp, closing his eyes. He shoveled in the rest of his meal, not tasting half of it, simply needing to eat, to chew and savor and lick something substantial and sensual. It continued to be a silent meal as if by mutual fiat, and Jack was the first up to do dishes at the end.
At one point, Will tapped his shoulder; startled out of his tension, Jack turned involuntarily with a pan full of dirty dishwater and sloshed it all over Will's stomach. Dripping, Will set his own mouth in an annoyed twist. "Shouldn't sneak up on people like that," was all Jack offered, turning back to the sink, barely stifling a guffaw at Will's surprised expression.
A hand shot past Jack and grabbed the dish sprayer, hauling it back on its serpentine gray hose. Jack's hands paused in the sink and he went very still. "Put it back." His only response was a snort. "You wouldn't-" He felt a tiny shot of water at his shoulder blade, and gritted his teeth. "Now mine was an accident."
"Right-o," Will agreed, giving him another tiny, sharp spray. "So's this." A third. "Oops."
Lifting half a pan of water, Jack pivoted and faced him. He narrowed his eyes and hauled it higher. "Now," he began, warningly, "you've gotta ask yourself one question. Do you feel-" A shot of lukewarm water to the nose cleaned up Dirty Harry and left Jack sputtering and spitting. Without thinking, he hurled the contents of the saucepan and heard the minor wave of water slosh into Will's face and chest.
Jack whirled and dunked the pan to refill it, but he made a critical error of tactics: He turned his back on his enemy. Before he could get back around, Will was on him, yanking his collar out from his neck and shoving the sprayer nozzle partway down it, squeezing. "Hey! HEY!" Jack yelled, doing a little dance to buck him off; he reached around to hit Will, only to have his arm batted away by an elbow. "You little mother-"
With a flash of inspiration, Jack yanked the pan up out of the water and tossed the contents up and behind his head. RESULT! Will yelped and stopped spraying for the moment, and Jack cackled to himself, sticking the pan back in the dishwater. "Teach you to mess up my clothes, you whipper-"
He was cut off again by the sprayer up the back of his shirt this time; just when he'd almost danced away, Will turned it down and shoved it into the back waistband of his pants. "WATCH IT! HOT!" Jack twisted in place, trying to get away, but Will, audibly gleeful, only shoved it down further. "GET THAT NOZZLE OUT OF MY ASS! It's unhygienic!"
That actually stopped Will cold, and he withdrew the sprayer a split second before he broke up. Jack turned, the pan forgotten, frowning; Will was holding on to the edge of the sink with his free hand, not yet drawing air he was laughing so hard. Jack yanked the hose out of his hand, pressing his lips tightly together to stay serious; after about twenty seconds, he sprayed Will full in the face. "Knock it off," he muttered.
In the middle of his laughing, Will pulled a face and batted away the stream of water. "Ugh, you know where that's been?"
"That's what you get!" Jack shot him again, and began laughing as Will spat out the water. He reached back and fed the hose into the sink top, chuckling, as Will reached up and pushed soggy curls back off his forehead. He noticed the sprayer being put away and lunged for it. "Hey!"
"No - you don't need that!" He smacked Will's hand from it a couple of times and they wrestled, until Will looked at him and he realized the other man was leaning over and past him a little, his face only inches away. Will's eyes searched his, then dropped to his mouth and roamed his face, and Jack was aware his body was pressed somewhat into his own. "Did you start this on purpose?" he demanded.
"I wasn't the one who soaked me first," Will pointed out, murmuring softly. He leaned closer and licked the corner of Jack's mouth, sending a shiver along his nerves. "Asshole."
"Cocky kid," Jack muttered, eyes half-closed. Surely the water upon his skin was turning to steam under the heat in his blood, boiling away with his resistance.
"Stubborn old man." Will rubbed the side of his nose against Jack's; much to his own dismay, Jack responded in kind, sliding his tip under Will's, bumping it none-too-roughly. "Jerk," he replied in a low, gravelly tone, as Will licked his lower lip. "Fuck you."
"God, yes," Will breathed, and then they were kissing, Jack's back pressed into the sink while Will pressed into his front, his hands in Jack's hair, the hose and water and dishes forgotten. Jack traced his lips with his tongue, reached inside, drew back to mutter, "You tas like dithwathah," around the kiss.
"How wooth thoo know?" Will asked in kind, still devouring.
Somewhere in the kissing they began plucking at wet shirts, and pretty soon each helped draw off the other man's and were halfway skin to skin. Jack's mind was foggy with deafening lust, and Will had his zipper down and his hand inside before he realized; with alacrity, the man knelt and tugged open Jack's waistband button and peeled the wet material away and down over his hips. Will sucking his cock hadn't been in Jack's fantasies until the past couple of years, and he was a little shaken to understand it was happening in reality - the slide of tongue along the soft skin, the gentle scrape of teeth over painful stiffness ... the perceptive brown eyes aimed up at Jack, watching as he sucked in and released said cock over and over.
Jack got his hands under Will's arms and tugged him back up after a few tries, unable to speak before he was being kissed even more. It wasn't long before he realized the edge of the counter was rubbing the top swell of his ass raw, as he was sliding up and down against it, his hips rocking with Will's. He hated to break their long, ponderous kisses, but finally dipped his head to do it, catching his breath. "Somewhere besides the kitchen," he managed. His head felt about six times bigger than it was; he put it down to lack of oxygen.
"Bed?"
Jack snorted softly. "It's half a house away," he pointed out. "You're practically gagging for it right here on the linoleum." Will tugged him closer, large hands cupping the bare swell of Jack's hips. They slid around to palm his ass cheeks. "Yeah ... like that ..." he breathed in a deep rasp, watching Will's pupils blow wider; he felt a thumb stroking a small indentation near the small of his back. "You wanna do me right here, don't you, now?" Will nodded mutely, eyes never moving. "Except, we're missing a couple of things ..."
"Hmm?" Will sounded drugged, the music of his voice heavy.
He toyed with a wavy lock of Will's hair, rubbing it into the nape of his neck. "Well, a condom, for one." He dropped his eyes to those parted, wet lips. "Something to ease the way, too."
Removing a hand, Will tucked his hand into the front pocket of jeans now plastered to his thighs with water; the tiny foil packet made a distinctive crinkling as he pulled it out. Reaching up, he ran his hand over Jack's wrist to rest on the back of his fingers, tucking the wrapped rubber between two of Jack's fingers. "Lubricated," he murmured, trying to keep a straight face.
"C'mon," Jack finally deadpanned, kissing him as he dragged Will to the floor. "Let's free Willy."
"Oh my God," Will breathed, shaking his head as he was forced to his knees. "You did not."
"Shut up and wrap it," Jack managed to command between guffaws, pressing the package back into Will's right palm before reaching for the man's fly. "Or do this," he muttered after a few seconds, finding it difficult to unbutton wet denim over metal.
And then it popped free and Will's hand was sliding, unrolling along Jack's cock, and Jack was pushing him to his back, and ... Jack's brain exploded with sensation and ache, and Will's tongue in his ear, fucking it as tentatively as Jack fucked him. The two moved, sliding along slick tile on knees and bare ass, one of Jack's hands going beneath Will's head so he wouldn't knock it against the hard floor, until they were partway in the front hall.
Will threw his hands out to grab the edges of the entryway on either side, and gripped the walls as Jack too braced his hands and kept plowing, thrusting, angling down into him. Will curled his legs up around Jack's hips and back and tightened the grip of his hands on the wall, making the veins in his arms stand out; Jack wanted to lick them, and his mouth went dry as he fucked his best friend's son harder and harder and deeper-
-until he could take no more, his heart about to explode through his chest and ears, and shoved in deep, emptying himself. When he couldn't give more, he lowered his right hand around Will's prick, fisting and pumping only a few times before Will came with a series of pained grunts, turning to relief and small moans in a matter of a moment.
Sliding forward, Jack pressed his face into Will's chest, hands on his shoulders. He turned his head sideways after inhaling warm, moist skin for a while, pushing out a last heavy gasp as Will's fingers gently rubbed his upper back. "Now, bed." He sighed. "Soon as we fix one last problem so I can get there."
"Wha's that?" Will's voice was thick and lazy.
"Knee replacements."
Rating: NC-17
POTC J/W (PWP slash)
Disclaimer: They do not belong to me; I'm just playing with them for no profit.
Summary: Continuation of a series of six drabbles I wrote three years ago. It's modern AU Turrow. Hopefully humorous. (NOT incest, despite the title; just experimental.)
A/N: Read over by metalkatt - any lingering mistakes are my own. (ETA: I just realized this was probably unconsciously inspired by yxonomei's A Shot Through Time, which I adore. Thanks for the ideas that stayed in my brain for so long!)
Feedback: If you like.
Jack resolved not to so much as touch his best friend’s son. He certainly wasn’t going to fuck the boy, no matter how Will made his cock throb or his balls blue or his heart pound.
He’d ignored the blatant sexual invitation when Will had showed up in his kitchen last night. Ducking away from the trailing fingers across his neck, Jack had become the genial host, offering to take Will out for Chinese. The younger man had looked momentarily puzzled, then grinned. “All right, Jack,” he’d said, going along with the invitation. Throughout dinner, he’d been openly amused, though focused on Jack and paying great attention to everything he said. It had been unnerving, and uncomfortable - and it was unconscionable of Jack to want to take that to bed.
When they got back to Jack’s place, he’d made an excuse about having to get up early, firmly put Will in his guest room, and made sure to shut his own bedroom door. He’d thought about locking it, too, but had decided it was silly. What’s he going to do, rape me? he wondered.
But it wouldn’t be rape if he were willing …
He’d awakened early, showered and dressed hastily before Will could get up, and had left the house without more than a glance inside the guest room to make sure Will was still asleep. He’d spent the day following a couple of skip-traces and picked up some easy money, which took his mind off the heady temptation back home. He wondered how long Will planned to stay, alternately wanting to push him onto the first flight back to Connecticut, and kiss him stupid. At some point he’d stopped seeing Will Turner as a curious, over-bright gawky boy - he wasn’t sure when, but he sure wished that image had evolved into almost anything other than as the object of all of Jack’s carnal desires.
When he walked into his kitchen from the garage, the scent of cheese blend and peppered sausage filled his senses. Will was ladling noodles out of a large pot into a large shallow dish. He glanced at Jack and nodded back toward the refrigerator. “I know you’re not supposed to chill red wine, but I like it better that way.”
He paused, very still. Everybody knew you fed a date Italian when you wanted to sleep with them - the combination of rich flavors and thick pasta and heady wine all served as a mating dance, really. More importantly, Will knew this, because Jack had taught him long ago, when the kid was in high school, to help him impress his senior prom date. “I’m not going to bed with you,” he announced very clearly.
“Don’t be an ass,” Will snorted, shaking his head. “I’m just doing something nice for you, since you saved my life. I owe you.”
“Oh.” Jack hated the disappointment in his gut. It wasn’t decent to want to fuck Bill’s kid - even if he was starting to look at the up-slope to thirty.
“Honestly,” Will was muttering as he turned and set plates on the island in the center of the kitchen. “You’d think that’s all that’s on your mind. Maybe it says more about what you’re thinking than what I am. I know the difference between gratitude and whoring myself out.”
“Fine,” Jack almost growled, to shut him up. “You know where the glasses are?”
“I suppose I can find them easily enough.”
A few minutes later, they were seated on opposite sides of the island, planted on stools, silently cutting into Italian sausage in thick red sauce and vegetables, drizzled generously over penne, sipping from brandy snifters of wine at Will’s insistence - he said it tasted better that way. Jack didn’t argue, remembering the younger Will’s fascination with the odd-shaped glasses in Jack’s cabinet. When he’d visited as a young boy, he’d made Jack serve their soda in the glasses, always over lots of ice and with straws, while they’d flipped through the newspaper and comic books and ate grilled cheese.
Jack took refuge in the benign memory as he chewed, hoping it meant a return to sense. Will was well into his adult years but still far too young and well-known to Jack for him to comfortably fuck. (What about uncomfortably? he wondered, the notion giving him ideas of inappropriate places to run his hands over the solid muscles and broad, naked shoulders he’d seen while patching up various wounds across Central America.)
He reached for his glass and took a large sip to quench the heat that flared at the idea of rubbing his palms and fingers all over Will. He happened to glance over the rim and caught the object of his desire watching him intently, all large dark eyes and furrowed brows. Will licked his lips, and Jack took another gulp, closing his eyes. He shoveled in the rest of his meal, not tasting half of it, simply needing to eat, to chew and savor and lick something substantial and sensual. It continued to be a silent meal as if by mutual fiat, and Jack was the first up to do dishes at the end.
At one point, Will tapped his shoulder; startled out of his tension, Jack turned involuntarily with a pan full of dirty dishwater and sloshed it all over Will's stomach. Dripping, Will set his own mouth in an annoyed twist. "Shouldn't sneak up on people like that," was all Jack offered, turning back to the sink, barely stifling a guffaw at Will's surprised expression.
A hand shot past Jack and grabbed the dish sprayer, hauling it back on its serpentine gray hose. Jack's hands paused in the sink and he went very still. "Put it back." His only response was a snort. "You wouldn't-" He felt a tiny shot of water at his shoulder blade, and gritted his teeth. "Now mine was an accident."
"Right-o," Will agreed, giving him another tiny, sharp spray. "So's this." A third. "Oops."
Lifting half a pan of water, Jack pivoted and faced him. He narrowed his eyes and hauled it higher. "Now," he began, warningly, "you've gotta ask yourself one question. Do you feel-" A shot of lukewarm water to the nose cleaned up Dirty Harry and left Jack sputtering and spitting. Without thinking, he hurled the contents of the saucepan and heard the minor wave of water slosh into Will's face and chest.
Jack whirled and dunked the pan to refill it, but he made a critical error of tactics: He turned his back on his enemy. Before he could get back around, Will was on him, yanking his collar out from his neck and shoving the sprayer nozzle partway down it, squeezing. "Hey! HEY!" Jack yelled, doing a little dance to buck him off; he reached around to hit Will, only to have his arm batted away by an elbow. "You little mother-"
With a flash of inspiration, Jack yanked the pan up out of the water and tossed the contents up and behind his head. RESULT! Will yelped and stopped spraying for the moment, and Jack cackled to himself, sticking the pan back in the dishwater. "Teach you to mess up my clothes, you whipper-"
He was cut off again by the sprayer up the back of his shirt this time; just when he'd almost danced away, Will turned it down and shoved it into the back waistband of his pants. "WATCH IT! HOT!" Jack twisted in place, trying to get away, but Will, audibly gleeful, only shoved it down further. "GET THAT NOZZLE OUT OF MY ASS! It's unhygienic!"
That actually stopped Will cold, and he withdrew the sprayer a split second before he broke up. Jack turned, the pan forgotten, frowning; Will was holding on to the edge of the sink with his free hand, not yet drawing air he was laughing so hard. Jack yanked the hose out of his hand, pressing his lips tightly together to stay serious; after about twenty seconds, he sprayed Will full in the face. "Knock it off," he muttered.
In the middle of his laughing, Will pulled a face and batted away the stream of water. "Ugh, you know where that's been?"
"That's what you get!" Jack shot him again, and began laughing as Will spat out the water. He reached back and fed the hose into the sink top, chuckling, as Will reached up and pushed soggy curls back off his forehead. He noticed the sprayer being put away and lunged for it. "Hey!"
"No - you don't need that!" He smacked Will's hand from it a couple of times and they wrestled, until Will looked at him and he realized the other man was leaning over and past him a little, his face only inches away. Will's eyes searched his, then dropped to his mouth and roamed his face, and Jack was aware his body was pressed somewhat into his own. "Did you start this on purpose?" he demanded.
"I wasn't the one who soaked me first," Will pointed out, murmuring softly. He leaned closer and licked the corner of Jack's mouth, sending a shiver along his nerves. "Asshole."
"Cocky kid," Jack muttered, eyes half-closed. Surely the water upon his skin was turning to steam under the heat in his blood, boiling away with his resistance.
"Stubborn old man." Will rubbed the side of his nose against Jack's; much to his own dismay, Jack responded in kind, sliding his tip under Will's, bumping it none-too-roughly. "Jerk," he replied in a low, gravelly tone, as Will licked his lower lip. "Fuck you."
"God, yes," Will breathed, and then they were kissing, Jack's back pressed into the sink while Will pressed into his front, his hands in Jack's hair, the hose and water and dishes forgotten. Jack traced his lips with his tongue, reached inside, drew back to mutter, "You tas like dithwathah," around the kiss.
"How wooth thoo know?" Will asked in kind, still devouring.
Somewhere in the kissing they began plucking at wet shirts, and pretty soon each helped draw off the other man's and were halfway skin to skin. Jack's mind was foggy with deafening lust, and Will had his zipper down and his hand inside before he realized; with alacrity, the man knelt and tugged open Jack's waistband button and peeled the wet material away and down over his hips. Will sucking his cock hadn't been in Jack's fantasies until the past couple of years, and he was a little shaken to understand it was happening in reality - the slide of tongue along the soft skin, the gentle scrape of teeth over painful stiffness ... the perceptive brown eyes aimed up at Jack, watching as he sucked in and released said cock over and over.
Jack got his hands under Will's arms and tugged him back up after a few tries, unable to speak before he was being kissed even more. It wasn't long before he realized the edge of the counter was rubbing the top swell of his ass raw, as he was sliding up and down against it, his hips rocking with Will's. He hated to break their long, ponderous kisses, but finally dipped his head to do it, catching his breath. "Somewhere besides the kitchen," he managed. His head felt about six times bigger than it was; he put it down to lack of oxygen.
"Bed?"
Jack snorted softly. "It's half a house away," he pointed out. "You're practically gagging for it right here on the linoleum." Will tugged him closer, large hands cupping the bare swell of Jack's hips. They slid around to palm his ass cheeks. "Yeah ... like that ..." he breathed in a deep rasp, watching Will's pupils blow wider; he felt a thumb stroking a small indentation near the small of his back. "You wanna do me right here, don't you, now?" Will nodded mutely, eyes never moving. "Except, we're missing a couple of things ..."
"Hmm?" Will sounded drugged, the music of his voice heavy.
He toyed with a wavy lock of Will's hair, rubbing it into the nape of his neck. "Well, a condom, for one." He dropped his eyes to those parted, wet lips. "Something to ease the way, too."
Removing a hand, Will tucked his hand into the front pocket of jeans now plastered to his thighs with water; the tiny foil packet made a distinctive crinkling as he pulled it out. Reaching up, he ran his hand over Jack's wrist to rest on the back of his fingers, tucking the wrapped rubber between two of Jack's fingers. "Lubricated," he murmured, trying to keep a straight face.
"C'mon," Jack finally deadpanned, kissing him as he dragged Will to the floor. "Let's free Willy."
"Oh my God," Will breathed, shaking his head as he was forced to his knees. "You did not."
"Shut up and wrap it," Jack managed to command between guffaws, pressing the package back into Will's right palm before reaching for the man's fly. "Or do this," he muttered after a few seconds, finding it difficult to unbutton wet denim over metal.
And then it popped free and Will's hand was sliding, unrolling along Jack's cock, and Jack was pushing him to his back, and ... Jack's brain exploded with sensation and ache, and Will's tongue in his ear, fucking it as tentatively as Jack fucked him. The two moved, sliding along slick tile on knees and bare ass, one of Jack's hands going beneath Will's head so he wouldn't knock it against the hard floor, until they were partway in the front hall.
Will threw his hands out to grab the edges of the entryway on either side, and gripped the walls as Jack too braced his hands and kept plowing, thrusting, angling down into him. Will curled his legs up around Jack's hips and back and tightened the grip of his hands on the wall, making the veins in his arms stand out; Jack wanted to lick them, and his mouth went dry as he fucked his best friend's son harder and harder and deeper-
-until he could take no more, his heart about to explode through his chest and ears, and shoved in deep, emptying himself. When he couldn't give more, he lowered his right hand around Will's prick, fisting and pumping only a few times before Will came with a series of pained grunts, turning to relief and small moans in a matter of a moment.
Sliding forward, Jack pressed his face into Will's chest, hands on his shoulders. He turned his head sideways after inhaling warm, moist skin for a while, pushing out a last heavy gasp as Will's fingers gently rubbed his upper back. "Now, bed." He sighed. "Soon as we fix one last problem so I can get there."
"Wha's that?" Will's voice was thick and lazy.
"Knee replacements."