pirate pr0n and such
Sep. 26th, 2003 11:35 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kaydeefalls
First of all -- am meeting ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
msilverstar tomorrow to discuss porn! Yay!
Second of all, 'tiswolfsage's birthday. And so...
Title: Boat
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Will/Jack, Will/Elizabeth
Summary: Series of drabbles. Will knows nothing about boats.
Disclaimer: Wow. Not mine. At all. How about that?
Notes: Happy birthday,wolfsage!
Will knows nothing about boats.
Well, he knows something, perhaps. A boat is a lot of wood put together with a couple of big sheets and some other stuff, and supposedly this unlikely contraption can give a man the world.
Will doesn't want the world. If this boat can give him Elizabeth, that's enough.
"Not a boat, mate," Jack whispers in his ear, and Will practically falls overboard. He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud. "A ship." And the way Jack carresses the word makes Will think maybe there's more to it than a lot of wood and some big sheets.
*
"You," Will says sternly, "would carry on a sordid love affair with this boat if you could figure out how."
Jack grimaces. "Not this boat. She's far too pretty for me. Too refined. No, mate," and he leans in close, swaying slightly with the roll of the waves and some undefined inner momentum, smile more leer than grin, "I want a ship that's rough and dirty and knows her way around, dark and dingy and sparkling. Savvy?"
"I prefer my pearls to be white," Will says primly. Jack laughs, reeling backwards.
"Yours is." He winks and blows Will a kiss.
*
Just for a second, Will thinks he understands.
Rain lashes his face like so many whips, and the wind fights him for control of rigging, sails, himself. The boat tilts and sways like Jack on a bad day. He tries to catch a loose sail and misses, slipping on waterlogged planks and tumbling headlong across the deck, slamming into the rail.
He grasps it and pulls himself up, breathless, body aching. You haven't licked me yet, he thinks wildly at the roiling sea.
And for just a second, he is the boat, brave and solitary and triumphant, and he understands.
*
"Love affair," Will whispers. "Boat."
"Ship." Jack's voice is low and hard. His hands are rough.
No, Will thinks but doesn't say. Jack's mouth tastes like salt and rum and something else, dark and thick and not entirely unpleasant. No, Will thinks again, but doesn't try to pull away. Smooth deck and rough blankets and warm bodies, swelling pleasure-pain and harsh breaths like waves slapping the shore.
Elizabeth, Will tries to say. It sounds like a slurred "Ship."
It's sort of like the rolling motion of a boat tossed upon the sea, all rhythm and swell and salt. Will sails.
*
The last time Will thinks he'll ever see Elizabeth, she's falling off a slim piece of planking into a hungry sea, and Will hates the sea.
The last time Will thinks he'll ever see Jack, he's diving off his beloved ship after his beloved pistol, and Will hates the gun.
The last time Will thinks he'll ever see either of them again, he's struggling on the rolling deck and staring helplessly out at a miserable little spit of land, and he hates the island.
It never occurs to him to hate the ship. You can't hate a part of yourself.
*
There's more to a ship than a lot of wood and a couple of big sheets and some other stuff. There's the pitch and swell of the brig, which is not all that different from battling winds and rain up on deck. There's the glint of metal in the bars of his prison, which is not all that different from the glint of gold in the medallion or Elizabeth's hair. There's the taste of the gag in his mouth, salt and rum and something else not all that different.
Not all that different, if Will closes his eyes. He doesn't.
*
Will ought to feel triumphant. He battled pirates and became one, fought for treasure and won it, sought Elizabeth and saved her. He won.
He leans over the rail and closes his eyes. Soft, salty spray tickles his lips, wind teases his hair. The ship rolls and swells solidly beneath him, vibrating through his body. If he just stays here, maybe he'll forget that Jack’s a prisoner in the hold, that Elizabeth's a prisoner of another man. Maybe the rest of the world will vanish, leaving just him and the ship and the sea.
He's going to miss this boat.
*
There's a ship with black sails down in the harbor. Will knew it would be there, somehow.
"Do you think they'll find Jack?" he asks worriedly.
Elizabeth smiles. "I don't think they could avoid him."
He kisses her again. She tastes clean and fresh, with just a hint of salt. "He loves that boat, you know."
"Ship," she corrects, eyes sparkling.
"Do you think—"
Elizabeth places a smooth finger on his lips. Looking into her eyes is a little like being tossed about on a stormy sea. "Hush, Will," she whispers, pulling him in for another kiss. "I'm sailing."
***
msilverstar tomorrow Second of all, 'tis
wolfsage's birthday. And so...Title: Boat
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean
Pairing: Will/Jack, Will/Elizabeth
Summary: Series of drabbles. Will knows nothing about boats.
Disclaimer: Wow. Not mine. At all. How about that?
Notes: Happy birthday,
wolfsage!Will knows nothing about boats.
Well, he knows something, perhaps. A boat is a lot of wood put together with a couple of big sheets and some other stuff, and supposedly this unlikely contraption can give a man the world.
Will doesn't want the world. If this boat can give him Elizabeth, that's enough.
"Not a boat, mate," Jack whispers in his ear, and Will practically falls overboard. He hadn't realized he'd spoken aloud. "A ship." And the way Jack carresses the word makes Will think maybe there's more to it than a lot of wood and some big sheets.
*
"You," Will says sternly, "would carry on a sordid love affair with this boat if you could figure out how."
Jack grimaces. "Not this boat. She's far too pretty for me. Too refined. No, mate," and he leans in close, swaying slightly with the roll of the waves and some undefined inner momentum, smile more leer than grin, "I want a ship that's rough and dirty and knows her way around, dark and dingy and sparkling. Savvy?"
"I prefer my pearls to be white," Will says primly. Jack laughs, reeling backwards.
"Yours is." He winks and blows Will a kiss.
*
Just for a second, Will thinks he understands.
Rain lashes his face like so many whips, and the wind fights him for control of rigging, sails, himself. The boat tilts and sways like Jack on a bad day. He tries to catch a loose sail and misses, slipping on waterlogged planks and tumbling headlong across the deck, slamming into the rail.
He grasps it and pulls himself up, breathless, body aching. You haven't licked me yet, he thinks wildly at the roiling sea.
And for just a second, he is the boat, brave and solitary and triumphant, and he understands.
*
"Love affair," Will whispers. "Boat."
"Ship." Jack's voice is low and hard. His hands are rough.
No, Will thinks but doesn't say. Jack's mouth tastes like salt and rum and something else, dark and thick and not entirely unpleasant. No, Will thinks again, but doesn't try to pull away. Smooth deck and rough blankets and warm bodies, swelling pleasure-pain and harsh breaths like waves slapping the shore.
Elizabeth, Will tries to say. It sounds like a slurred "Ship."
It's sort of like the rolling motion of a boat tossed upon the sea, all rhythm and swell and salt. Will sails.
*
The last time Will thinks he'll ever see Elizabeth, she's falling off a slim piece of planking into a hungry sea, and Will hates the sea.
The last time Will thinks he'll ever see Jack, he's diving off his beloved ship after his beloved pistol, and Will hates the gun.
The last time Will thinks he'll ever see either of them again, he's struggling on the rolling deck and staring helplessly out at a miserable little spit of land, and he hates the island.
It never occurs to him to hate the ship. You can't hate a part of yourself.
*
There's more to a ship than a lot of wood and a couple of big sheets and some other stuff. There's the pitch and swell of the brig, which is not all that different from battling winds and rain up on deck. There's the glint of metal in the bars of his prison, which is not all that different from the glint of gold in the medallion or Elizabeth's hair. There's the taste of the gag in his mouth, salt and rum and something else not all that different.
Not all that different, if Will closes his eyes. He doesn't.
*
Will ought to feel triumphant. He battled pirates and became one, fought for treasure and won it, sought Elizabeth and saved her. He won.
He leans over the rail and closes his eyes. Soft, salty spray tickles his lips, wind teases his hair. The ship rolls and swells solidly beneath him, vibrating through his body. If he just stays here, maybe he'll forget that Jack’s a prisoner in the hold, that Elizabeth's a prisoner of another man. Maybe the rest of the world will vanish, leaving just him and the ship and the sea.
He's going to miss this boat.
*
There's a ship with black sails down in the harbor. Will knew it would be there, somehow.
"Do you think they'll find Jack?" he asks worriedly.
Elizabeth smiles. "I don't think they could avoid him."
He kisses her again. She tastes clean and fresh, with just a hint of salt. "He loves that boat, you know."
"Ship," she corrects, eyes sparkling.
"Do you think—"
Elizabeth places a smooth finger on his lips. Looking into her eyes is a little like being tossed about on a stormy sea. "Hush, Will," she whispers, pulling him in for another kiss. "I'm sailing."
***
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2003-09-28 12:26 am (UTC)"I prefer my pearls to be white," Will says primly.
and
Elizabeth, Will tries to say. It sounds like a slurred "Ship."
no subject
Date: 2003-09-28 12:42 pm (UTC)