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Fighting the Demons
BY: Sidhe*** It was past midnight and Will was in a deep,
dreamless sleep. He
didn't hear the faint footsteps outside his cabin, or the soft click of the opening door. It was a rough hand on his shoulder giving him a quick shake that woke him. At first he was startled, and drew breath to shout. Then he realised that the hand over his mouth was Jack's, and Jack stood over him with an odd expression on his face. "Jack?" he mumbled, still less than half awake. He was confused; in dangerous waters such as these, Jack rarely left the deck, even going so far as to snatch his few hours of rest up there. Jack did not answer at once. He looked haunted, eyes glazed and staring at something only he could see. His hand gripped convulsively at the hilt of his pistol, as if he wanted to use it but knew that it would do no good. By the reel of his stance, and the half-unfocussed expression in his eyes, he was well and truly drunk. "I need ye." His voice was hoarse. There was no subtlety in the request (demand?); no hint of affection or playfulness that had always characterized their tumbling. There was desire, but it was the desperate desire of a man looking for salvation, and knowing that none could be found. Will was surprised, and on another occasion he might have refused. It was the first decent night's sleep he'd had in over a week, after all. But there was no way he could deny Jack – not when he looked like that. Will was naked except for his breeches (and he'd be without them, too, if not for these perilous waters which demanded quick action). He deftly slipped them off, and knelt up in the bed. Jack was trying to remove his own clothes, but too much rum and something else had set his hands to shaking so hard that he couldn't manage the laces on his breeches. Will helped him with that, and quickly pulled the shirt over his head. As he did so, he leaned in closer and kissed Jack warm and slow on the mouth. Jack shuddered. "Not like that," he grated. "Hard." He moved in front of Will. There was no trace of his usual cockiness. His eyes were bleak. Their mouths met in a clashing of teeth and lips. Jack kissed forcefully, knocking the breath from Will, pressing their mouths violently together. His tongue was strong and insistent, battling Will's until he dominated Will's mouth. Will could not breathe; could not think of anything else but Jack. The pirate backed off slightly, then moved in again, his teeth nipping Will's bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. Will growled a little at the pain, but then Jack's tongue was running over the sore spot, soothing and licking away the blood in savage gentleness. Jack suckled hard at his bottom lip, then moved the suction down to the dip in Will's throat. There would be a bruise there tomorrow, but at that moment, neither of them cared. With an explosion of pent- up breath, Jack pulled away. Both of them were panting. "The bloody demons are chasing me," Jack whispered, and he kissed Will again, sucking and pulling as if he wanted to empty the air from Will's lungs. Will was seeing silver spots by the time the kiss ended, and not just from the lack of air. He moved his own mouth down Jack's throat, feeling the scratchy softness of his beard and the coolness of the beads against his own hot skin. His tongue slid over Jack's collarbone, and he gave sharp little nips from shoulder side to chest. Hands wrapped roughly in his hair, then tightened their grip. Jack hissed at the bites, but it sounded like a hiss of relief, as if his pain had been lanced, and now there was finally a release for it. Will wondered, a bit distractedly, what had caused this sudden mood in Jack. He had seen the pirate about to be hung, faced with treacherous seas, confronted with impossible odds, and yet he had never seen him succumb to this desperation. Jack's hand slid lower to Will's shoulder, gripped so fiercely that he left a perfect set of half-moon etchings on the skin. The other hand stayed tangled in Will's hair to pull his head back sharply, forcing Will to look up at him. Jack's eyes were full of fire; wild, tormented, even a little crazy. "I can't get away from them. Not even wi' rum. Not even wi' all the rum in the world, mate." He laughed so hysterically that Will flinched. "Make me forget," demanded Jack suddenly, breaking off his laughter and looking Will straight in the eye. "I don't wanna see anythin' but you when I shut me eyes." His voice was slurred, the lazy accent growing stronger. Will reached down and stroked at Jack's hardened cock. His own cock was hard, too, but he could wait. Jack gave a stifled cry at Will's first touch, feeling the blacksmith's rough hand circle his cock, then suddenly jerk up. Encouraged, Will repeated the motion. Jack was looking at him as intently as if he were committing every detail of his features to memory. Will was his shield against the demons. He was here, and alive, and now moaning as Jack wriggled down and had his first taste of Will. He curled his tongue around Will's head, sucking gently. Will tasted of salt and bitterness, but he also had a bitter-sweet aftertaste, like tears. He suckled hungrily, wanting – needing – more of Will, more of this intense *aliveness*. Will heard his own grunted cry of loss as he pulled away from Jack's mouth. He wanted to be in Jack's mouth – oh God how he wanted Jack – but he was determined to see to Jack, first. Their bodies rubbed against each other, slick with sweat and multiplying the heat that grew between them. He put a hand over Jack's hand, which was still gripping his thigh. Bringing it to his mouth, he sucked on the middle finger, not bothering to be gentle with his tongue and teeth. Turning the hand over, his eyes widened at what he saw. The palm was slashed with half-moon scratches, and Will thought of how hard Jack must have clenched his fists, to get his short-trimmed nails to inflict that much damage. He moved to touch the cuts in concern, but Jack roughly pushed him over so that he lay on his side on the bed. Obligingly, Will knelt up on his hands and knees, until Jack stopped him. "No," he said hoarsely. "I need t' see you." He slid his hands under Will's back, and Will – having grown quite flexible in his time with Jack – wriggled until his legs were locked around Jack's neck. Jack rubbed himself against Will's entrance, and Will groaned in need. Then he realised what Jack intended to do – breach him with no oil or preparation – and he blanched. He kept silent, feeling Jack's need to lose his demons in something rough, something human and untempered. Jack saw the fear in Will's eyes, followed by the steely determination. His cock was hard and throbbing. Without dislodging Will's legs from where they rested on his shoulders, he pulled his hands free, and reached fumbling for the bottle of oil. He spilt more than he intended, since he couldn't see what he was doing. It pooled luke-warm in his cupped hands. He roughed smeared it on his own cock, and with the other oiled hand, slid two fingers into Will. He bucked a little, eyes wide, and breath coming in short gasps. Jack had never moved this quickly before. Then as he stretched and Jack's fingers grew comfortable, Jack pulled them out, and thrust himself in just as quickly. The world exploded in darkness and white-hot flashes of pain and pleasure. He might have cried aloud – he didn't know. He didn't know anything but the feeling of Jack, filling him. There was nothing of gentleness in it. Jack's mouth covered his own, muffling the sounds he was making. The thrusts were quick and rough. They weren't aimed to hit the sweet spot inside Will, and they didn't, but there was another kind of pleasure to be had in feeling Jack's recklessness as he lost himself inside Will. Jack shouted as he came, tearing red ribbons into Will's back, but the words were lost to them both. Will's legs unlocked from around his neck; Jack collapsed to lie with his face on Will's taut stomach, with Will's legs now wrapped around his hips. His breath came raggedly, in what might have been a half-sob. He lay there for a moment, the heady scent of sex in the air around him. Then he pulled himself up again, and unceremoniously began to suck on Will. Will's hands tightened in his hair, and Jack welcomed the pain. It did not take Will long to come, and then Jack's mouth was flooded with the hot salt of his seed. He swallowed it all greedily. It was Will who cleaned them both up with a cloth, his actions gentle now that it was over. Jack did not say a word, but his eyes had lost some of their haunted look, and it was not long before he fell asleep, his head on Will's shoulder. It was a new experience to be the one who protected; the one who watched over the other as they slept. Now that he could, Will smoothed back Jack's hair, tucking errant braids and strands back behind his ear. His fingers were loving as he stroked Jack's cheek, and eased the half-frown on his brow. Will held him tight against his demons, whispering soothing words to hold back the dark silence of the night. "Sleep well," he murmured to Jack, and stayed awake, just holding him, to make sure that he did. |
