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Even More Rum

by Linaelyn


Fandom: PoTC    Rating: NC-17    Pairing: Will/Groves    Full Header


"You're still welcome to spend the night here. Can I make you up a pallet?" Ellis offered.

"I'm sure if I stagger home now, she'll take me in," Will countered, reaching for his waistcoat. "Likely, she's begun to worry already."

"All the more reason to stay, then." Smiling, the host lifted the rum flask in his hand, twin to the one languishing in Will's long, slender fingers. "Besides, there's the rum to consider."

"I suppose it would be cruel of me to leave you to consume that much on your own." A smirk curled the corner of Will's thin mustache.

"Then, by all means, be seated," Groves encouraged, "and we'll see who can find the bottom of a bottle of blind-drunk, yet this eve!"

"That was, after all, the original goal, was it not?" Will joined in the now-jovial spirit. "Aye, I think that might be just the thing."

"To meeting one's goals!" Groves toasted.

"To finding what one seeks!" Will responded.

They drank deeply together. The silence stretched a bit. The air began to feel close, uncomfortable in the little parlor. Both men spoke at once.

"What made you..."

"Why did you..."

And two laughs resounded. "You first," said Will.

Groves blew out a gust of rummy breath. "Were you sure of your reception, with your advances t'wards me? I... I find myself unsettled by the implications of that."

"Oh, you're the soul of discretion, I can assure you. Your appreciation for, shall we say, a different sort of dance partner isn't widely known in Port Royal, if that's your fear."

"Who, exactly, is privy to this understanding?"

"Well, from the subtle hints he's dropped about you in my presence, I suspect the Commodore of course. He is entirely trustworthy, concerning sensitive matters, as I'm sure you're already aware."

"I doubt very much that this news came to your ears from James' lips. So? You said something about never listening to Jack's tales. Don't tell me Captain Sparrow suspects my proclivities?" Groves' moderate concern was shifting into outright fear for his privacy. He quickly slugged some more burning rum.

Will followed suit, hammering down a few blazing gulps of his own. "Jack's deadly perceptive, and it wouldn't surprise me in the least if he knows. But no, no one told me. No one had to tell me."

"No one had to tell you..." Groves was beginning to look a bit owlish, again, as the rum took its toll.

"Well, you see..." Will stammered a bit, "I'm, I'm married, not blind. When the fellows on the Dauntless are stripping for a good scrub, I mayhap to notice. And I've had occasion to notice who else is noticing, just for curiosity's sake."

"And you've noticed me noticing?"

"No. I've noticed you making very, very sure that no one could possibly misconstrue anything you do as being noticing, in any way, shape or form." Will chuckled at the other man's subsequent chagrinned look. "It's a dead giveaway, Ellis. You're so very careful to never look at the lads, it's like a banner across your forehead for those with eyes to read it!"

"Hmmm. Perhaps I'm merely squeamish about nudity?" Ellis said this without irony, despite the fact that he was slouched, more than slightly drunken, and wearing nothing but a bit of flimsy fabric at his hips.

"Which is what I'd believed, until I noticed it was only about the nudity of men and not that of the doxies in the brothels' quarter. The strumpets can lift their skirts or flash their bosoms all they want, and your eyes slide right over them." Will pantomimed the "flash of bosom" with a bit of his own left tit, and laughed at his own joke.

"Why all this interest in where my eyes do and do not alight?"

Will smiled, slow and sweet. "I believe I already answered that one."

"You're married, not blind," Ellis returned the smile. "So you came to the Faithful Bride this evening to seek a partner to join you in your infidelity?" At the thought of Will, out on the prowl for a bed-partner, Groves' mood shifted suddenly, like a breeze on a squall-tossed sea. The wind blew from the south now, and fair strong it was, too, judging by the slight tenting of his smalls. He wished he'd thought to leave his breeches on, if he was going to engage in this conversation. Time to change the subject, or my resolve not to drag him upstairs will waver, he thought to himself, and said, "Your turn for your question."

"You seemed honestly startled, when" Will's embarrassed voice was given lie by his widely dilated pupils. "I thought, when you invited me back here..."

"Startled?" Groves laughed loudly. "I'm utterly gob-smacked, sir! You're married! Happily so, to all appearances! Why should I think you were accepting for any reason other than to prevent yourself from waking with the dawn, pockets picked, in some rancid gutter?!?"

"So the invitation to sleep in your home..."

"...was merely intended as an invitation to sleep in my home. Honestly."

The silence that fell this time was more companionable. Suddenly, Will began laughing. "You lie! You were interested! The look on your face when I tugged my breeches down to show my sunburn! HA!"

"I never said I didn't find you of interest. I said what my intentions were." Ellis staunchly defended himself.

"Well," Will countered, "my intentions were entirely nefarious. It wasn't only the rum talking. I must admit that the thought of you, of...once I suspected which way the wind blew, Ió"

"Clearly this was not your first brush with the thought of certain actions undertaken sub rosa, shall we say?" Groves began the topic as diplomatically as he could. Still, his curiosity burned. He had known Turner, man and boy, since the Dauntless had found him in the water, all those years ago. Surely it wasn't Master Brown... Could the older man have been taking advantage of the apprenticeship in that way? Groves shuddered slightly in distaste. "Not to pry, but...if you would you care to enlighten a curious fellow?"

"As a friend, and not as a leftenant, aye?" Will waited for Ellis to nod. "It was Jack."

"Jack? Sparrow?!?" The rum flask nearly slid from his inattentive hand, as shock drove out all thought of maintaining the hold on his beverage.

"Captain Jack Sparrow, aye." Never having had the opportunity to gloat over his liaison with the famous Pirate had been one of the great frustrations of Will Turner's life; he found this moment quite... satisfying.

Ellis took a moment, to shift his view of the world, arse over teakettle, for the second time that night. "Captain Jack Sparrow." Downed another burning mouthful of the rum.

"Fiercest, wiliest Pirate on the Spanish Main. More legends about him than any other."

"You. And Sparrow." Ellis shook his head. "You sodding, lucky bastard. Well, I've said it before; that fellow's got to be the best pirate I've ever seen. Hmmm...I suppose that explains a few things! Wish I'd been there that day you freed him from the noose, but after your and Sparrow's little escapade on the Interceptor, there was no way the Dauntless was going to be left with anyone ranking less than a lieutenant. But by all accounts, it was quite the escapade!"

"And you drew the dreaded shipboard duty?" Will prompted. Groves reached a finger to trace his own cheek, the swelling brow, unconsciously. Shipboard, where he had hanged Riley, today. For having made a poor choice. Once. In front of the wrong people. Ellis shook himself out of reverie, to respond.

"After a few poorly chosen remarks on my part, I doubt the Commodore trusted me not to play pirate myself, give a helping hand to you with Sparrow." His usual naval decorum had fled him. He slid down in the overstuffed chair, comfortably drunk and relaxed out of his usual rigid role.

"Now there's a lovely picture!" Will laughed, quite intoxicated himself, both with the liquor and the topic of conversation. "Oooh yes, a lovely picture indeed."

"What picture?" Groves glanced quickly, down at himself, checking for gaps in the fabric.

"You. Giving me a hand with Jack." Will's eyes glittered in the lanternlight, and he swigged more rum. "You look like you have very able hands, Ellis. And Jack's hands, well, they're certainly an experience."

Groves drained the last of his bottle's contents, in hopes of deadening some of the sensations that his body was insisting he do something about. "You're going to be cruel and tell me all about it, aren't you?"

"They say that confession is good for the soul. I'm only thinking of my likely destination in the hereafter."

"Bollocks." His legs lewdly splayed and wearing nothing but his smalls, Ellis said, "Do I look like a priest to you?"

Notwithstanding, Will continued. "It was on the Interceptor. Jack said I needed a hat..." A faraway look took his eyes, and he paused.

"Are you going to tell me about it, or not?" Ellis demanded, bemused. "Where on the Interceptor? She was to be my first command, after the Commodore's promotion. You owe me."

"Oh, you're not so disinterested, after all?" Will ran long fingers through his tousled brown forelocks, which had escaped the tie at the nape of his neck. "He started it at the helm. Made me keep my hands on the wheel, as he failed to keep his hands to himself. But mostly in the captain's cabin, in that capacious bunk there."

"The Interceptor had lovely quarters," sighed Groves, "It really was a shame, when she went down."

"Well, her captain's billet was a bit the worse for wear, after Jack was done with her, or done with me, as one might prefer to put it," Will chortled. "I'd heard of a 'captain going down with his ship' but it was rather a revelation to me, how many different ways that phrase could be interpreted."

Ellis shifted, a little uncomfortably, but Will continued, oblivious, "Sometimes, I can recall the taste of him; Often as not, it's the smell of honey tható"

Groves interrupted him, "If we don't drop this line of discussion, the rum is going to be making some good intentions fall by the wayside, and the nefarious intentions are going to get the upper hand, Will." Upper hand. Ellis struggled to restrain his thoughts from wandering too far towards the possibilities of hands.

Will was already dangerously close to ignition, like a scrap of paper held too long over a lantern. "I'd enjoy that," he very nearly purred.

Damn the man for making this so damnably difficult. "So I gathered. As would I. But we resolved to wait for your lovely wife's express permission, did we not?"

"I have an idea. A rather nefarious one. A game, if you would." All this talk of the time on the Interceptor had taken Will back to a time when he made different choices. Those choices had been based less on the careful planning of his current life, and more on the passionate demands of the moment.

"A game? Will..." Groves was a little apprehensive of what he saw in Turner's darkened eye. Too many times he'd seen men live to regret their lustful choices. Was this the drink talking? Could Turner judge what was best for himself, at this point?

"Are you interested?" The rum and Will's pirate streak had taken the helm, steering him ever closer to the shoals of diabolical desire.

"This is a very bad idea, Will. I told you, I want no regrets, tomorrow. But neither am I going to play nursemaid, if you insist on winding me up like this, offering pleasurable distraction of what seems your free choice. You'll not be leaving it my responsibility if you deliver."

"I will not touch you, Ellis." Will laid out his plan. "You will not touch me. You will merely do what I request of you. I will do what you ask of me."

"And this will satisfy the needs of your vows? Will, this sounds dangerously like a violation of the spirit of the law, while keeping to the letter of it."

Will considered for a moment. "I won't do anything I would feel awkward confessing to Elizabeth."

"Then promise me that you shall. Confess all this night to Elizabeth, that is," Ellis' voice was stony and cool. "I refuse to be party to driving a wedge betwixt the two of you."

"You trust her with this?" Will's smile was dangerously savage. "Aye, and so you should, for she's a woman to be trusted; your risk, however, seems far greater than my own." Groves nodded his certainty since he was sure this would lead to Will taking his leave, and returning to his wife's arms for the night.

But Groves misjudged him. Will retorted, "Then we have an accord. I will speak to Elizabeth of all that has befallen here, and all that happens hence. And you..." Will looked back and forth between the two of them, and noticing Ellis's relative state of undress, compared to his own, said, "you will go first with your request."

Ellis' careful restraint, which had held him so carefully in check throughout this night, this evening, this entire day, finally gave way. His voice was husky with need as he said, "Strip. All of it, you teasing devil. And quickly."

After tugging off his stockings, Will stood, barefoot and a bit unsteady from the drinking. He wrenched his shirt over his head for the second time that evening, this time far more roughly that the first. The bruises on his chest glowed a darker purple than had blossomed earlier, and his shoulders and back still were a blazing lobster-red from the sunburn. Unbelting his breeches and working the buttons open, one at a time, he kept his eyes locked on Ellis'. The breeches dropped to the floor, showing the blinding-pale contrast of his skin from the waist to the knees.

Will was sparsely haired at the chest, and lower as well, and his legs were thin for a man in his profession, but a pleasant view, nonetheless, Ellis decided. It was a strange sensation, to be able to really look at a man. Not the largest prick he'd seen hard, but certainly enough, and a bit of a shapely upwards curve to it. Will's breath came fast and shallow, and he lay his hands on his chest-bruises, and slid them downwards towards his belly.

"No. I didn't say you could touch yourself," Groves grinned wickedly. "Hands at your sides. Your turn. But no touching."

"Hmmm... What shall I begin with?" Will looked Ellis' body up and down, appreciatively. "Would you like to remove those?" he asked, gesturing at the pale, soft muslin of the lieutenant's remaining underclothes.

As Groves reached to his waist to pull them down, Will exclaimed, "Stop! Answer the question. Would you like to remove them?"

"I suppose so, yes."

"Then let's leave them on for a bit longer, shall we? Do you have any honey?" Will asked.

"Honey? I think so. I have some jam, perhaps." Eyebrow arched, Ellis wondered what Will was about.

"No, that won't do. It must be honey. Go look for some."

Crossing the room to the pantry near the kitchen, Groves opened the tall, thin wooden door that hid the cooking supplies. Will picked up the small lantern from the nearby table and brought it over, to give more light to the search. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught sight of Will approaching: nude, with a hungry look in his eye that made Ellis's breath catch for a moment.

He wasn't sure he had ever been looked at, openly, in quite such a predatory manner.

Skin flushed pink and nipples shrank to tight bumps, as Ellis discovered how much he enjoyed being ravished by someone's eyes.

Will leaned forward towards the cupboard, his shoulder nearly touching the other man's. The aroma of citrus and spices came from within, but that wasn't what made Turner pause suddenly and inhale. He closed his eyes, drew breath again. "Wait. I have another idea." He set the lantern on the floor at Ellis' feet, and jogged over to where his shirt lay in a puddle on the floor. Sweeping up the salt-crusted, sweaty fabric, he bounced back to Groves at the pantry door.

"I want to remember you, remember this," Will said with fervor. "Lean back, and put your arms over your head."


"It's my turn. You do as I say."

"No touching."

"No touching," Will agreed.

Ellis leaned back against the wall, clasped his right hand around his left wrist, and slowly stretched his arms up over his head. He felt distinctly vulnerable in this position, even though it was Turner who wasn't wearing a stitch. The drawstring of his smalls tugged around his hips, and felt like insufficient armor for the assault he feared was about to come. Will looked positively perilous in his current mood, and the dark marks on Will's chest from his struggles with the horse today, did nothing to dispel that fear.

Suddenly, Ellis became aware of his own injuries from today's events. The eye, though not terribly swollen shut, was likely purpling nicely. He could taste the metallic spot on his split lip. It didn't show visibly, but the blow to the solar plexus was what had felled him when Riley had struck out in rage and fear.

Ellis' attention was drawn back to the moment at hand. The shirt still wadded in his fist, Will leaned in very close, almost touching Ellis' throbbing, painful cheek. And he sucked air in through his nose and mouth, and pushed it out again. He whispered, "I want to remember this, remember you. I keep memories best when the memory has a fragrance to it." He tucked his head lower, and sniffed at the shoulder, the collarbone, the chest, and around the corner of the nipple to the tuft of hair under the arm. Will's eyes drifted closed and his cock twitched, further erect. "I also want you to remember me." Holding the shirt before Ellis' nostrils, he said, "Breathe."

Ellis breathed. Sweat of honest work. Sweet, dark rum. Smoke of forgefire and tavern. Mansex. And a certain indefinable aroma, one that he associated with those who live intimately with a woman.

Will smelled like danger to Ellis; danger, pure and simple.

This was a very bad idea. He was sure of it.

Suddenly, in his mind's eye, he was back in his uniform, back on the Dauntless. There was Riley, beautiful, brilliant, flawed Riley. Best seaman on the crew. Reliable as the sun and the tides on a ship. Wild and unpredictable in port. Sentenced to be hanged by the neck until dead.

Had Riley thought the same thoughts, warned himself of the dangers, before committing the acts that condemned him? Had he considered the possibility of disastrous consequence, and proceeded despite them?

"You're nothing like Jack," murmured Will, once again pulling Ellis out of that painful moment. The breath of Will's speech tickled at his neck, and made his own prick bounce under the fabric. "But I like the way you smell."

Lieutenant Theodore Ellis Groves was a private man, some said a secretive man. He hid so much of his inner life from scrutiny for the sake of fear. There comes a time, he thought to himself, when one can only bear so much denial, so much refusal, so much restraint. This night, in his own home, with the shutters drawn, with a partner with nothing to gain (and everything to lose) from their discovery?

He could take this one risk.

"And you're nothing like I expected." retorted Ellis, and he dropped Will's aromatic shirt to the floor. "Not that you should interpret that as complaint."

Will smirked in response, then slowly lowered himself to his knees, his nostrils skimming just above the pale skin, taking in the scent of this man, gliding over every inch of terrain this body could provide. He finally ended his progress directly before the straining cock, still hidden beneath the smalls.

"I'm finding myself sorely tempted to break the rules of our game, Ellis."

He'd thrown his caution to the four winds already; this time it was Ellis who purred, "I'd enjoy that." Will's delicious exhalations danced across his upper thighs, his hipbones, causing gooseflesh to rise on the skin of his belly.

Will panted, hesitated, "You decide; I can't." Then he rose to his feet, and backed away, picking up the lantern. "I believe it's your turn."

Ellis turned and reached into the cupboard, rummaged there a moment and pulled out an earthenware jar with a spoon handle protruding through the slotted lid.

"The honey," he stated. "My choice. I want you to do, whatever it was that you wanted me to do, with this." Setting the lid behind himself on the shelf, he passed the open container to Will. "But first, it's getting a bit cool. Let me grab a blanket, here, and we'll make ourselves comfortable before the hearth." He tugged a broad swath of loomed lambswool from the top shelf of the cupboard (carefully keeping it away from the lantern lifted in his other hand), and led the way back to the floor before the dying coals.

"Another log on the fire, perhaps? This will be more...pleasant... if you can see." Will explained. Ellis selected a couple lengths of pine, set them atop the embers, and soon the white-yellow of fresh flame lit the floor where Will seated himself.

Before joining him, Ellis returned the lantern to the small table where it usually rested, and as he did, noticed Will's not-yet-empty rum flask, which still held a couple of inches of dark amber liquid.

"Are you falling behind?" Ellis asked, gesturing with the bottle

Will raised a hand and waggled his nose with a pair of unsteady fingers. "I'd better stop now; not much sense wasting it on me at this point. It's yours for the taking." Ellis took a deep swig, and then, making sure first that Will was looking, slid his entire mouth down over the neck of the bottle, causing Will's mouth to drop open. Ellis leered, then sat down crosslegged, on the far side of the blanket from Will. "Where were we? You were going to show me something with that honey?"

"I was going to ask you to take two fingers like this," Will gestured with his right hand, "dip them in the honey, like this," and he scooped a bit of the golden viscosity and held it up for display, "and then show me what you'd do if that was my cock."

"You are wicked. Well, go on, it's running down your hand. Show me what you'd do to me, if I were decorated in sweet and sticky stuff."

"I think I need to see it first, don't you?"

"Thought you'd never ask." Ellis shucked off his underclothes, tossing them beside the blanket.

"...Oh." Will's eyes widened at the sight. Then he chuckled a little, curled up a third finger and dipped his hand again in the honey. Ellis laughed with him, but the laughter died away as Will began, with short sharp licks, to tease the dripping substance off of his own wrist. Working his way up the palm, he switched to longer, slower lapping motions. Will's eyes closed, and he abandoned himself to the feeling of his own mouth on his skin, the gentle dragpulltug. The taste of the sugar on his tongue. Nibbling teeth and lips collecting each sweet droplet.

Ellis thought this was probably the most intensely sensual thing he had ever seen. Will's tongue left his palm, and began swirling and circling the fingernails, and Ellis found his hand had perforce moved to his painfully hard erection. The long-delayed touch after prolonged arousal, combined with the sight of Will, sliding those slender, sticky digits, deeper and deeper within his mouth threatened to undo him.

"Wait," Will interrupted Ellis at the brink of the abyss, "not yet."

Ellis reached for the rum, slugged down the last of it, and gasped, "Can't hold out much longer, Will."

"Neither, I." Will thunked the honey-pot on the blanket between them. "But I want a chance to watch you."

Ellis dipped a fingertip in the honey, and flicked it with his tongue. "Very nice," he said. "Not my favorite."

"And your favorite would be...?"

Grinning hugely and arching the brow on his uninjured side, Ellis picked up the jar and retreated to the pantry. Putting the honey away, he pulled out a glittering blueglass bottle, and returned to the hearthside.

"What's that?"

"Rose oil. Heaven in a bottle," Ellis replied.

"Jack called honey 'heaven in a jar' but he called the oil in the bottle 'nirvana'. What is the difference, I wonder?" Will said.

"It's only a matter of where you're coming from, so to speak." Ellis laughed at his own double-entendre. "Either way, you end up in the same situation, I suppose."

"Well then," came Will's breathy whisper, "I'd like you to show me how you prefer to get there."

Kneeling on the blanket close enough to Will to feel the warmth radiating from his body, Ellis unstoppered the vial of oil, and poured a good bit in his hand. He gestured with the bottle towards Will, who also held out his hand for a bit of the liquid. Deftly re-closing the container and setting it aside, he watched as Will slathered his already-leaking sex with the slippery stuff. "Keep one hand away from the oil, would you?" he requested of Will.


"So it doesn't get too slippery."

Careful to use the hand without the oil, Ellis grasped the now-empty rum bottle, and tipped it to his mouth, making sure that the last few drops were sucked dry. Then he passed the clearish palegreen flask to Will, who gave him another quizzical look. "Just hold it, for now. Trust me. Don't get oil on it."

Ellis dribbled oil over his cock, and rubbed it in with his other hand, down through the hairs there, below to the balls, and further around and under to the shadows behind. Swinging his still half-full cupped hand around to the back, he crouched, on knees and one hand, and began to work the remaining oil into himself, slowly, carefully, a little at a time. Will watched, fascinated, as Ellis managed to slide first one, then two, and finally three fingers inside and stroke in and out with a smooth, gliding motion. Finally, he turned to Will, and pointed to the bottle.

"You are the rum bottle." Ellis encircled the neck of the bottle with the less oily of his two hands, slicking the smooth glass, down to the point where it flared at the shoulders. "Would you hold this steady for me?" Will did so. Cupping the bottle's base with his dry hand, holding it stationary at the place where Ellis guided him to, pressing chill glossiness at Ellis' bare backside.

You are the rum bottle.

This was what Will had asked of Jack, but never received. This was the place he had wanted to go, and Jack refused to take him there.

It was surprisingly easy, the entry into the other man's body. A push and pop and a glide and the bottle's neck was in. The base of the flask was cool to Will's palm; it must be shiveringly cold, taken deep inside. Not like the actual article.

A delicious shudder passed through Will. You are the rum bottle. He watched as Ellis gradually began rocking against the bottle's neck, slithering against it again and again; the lieutenant's slippery hand held his own cock sliding in an accompanying rhythm.

You are the rum bottle.

"I am the rum bottle," Will's voice, low and deep, thrust into Ellis like a flaming poker from the blacksmith's forge, bringing him to shattering climax. Semen spattered the blanket, his belly, his hand.

Ellis clenched the bottle with recently spasming muscles, but Will pulled it free with a tug and a twist. His lust was naked on his face. "I want..." he moaned.

"Now. In." Ellis made it a guttural, animal sound.

Will swung around behind the man, who still knelt on all fours. Ellis was tighter now than with the bottle, but there was still less resistance than Will expected.

The searing heat of him, the smell of rose and rum, cum and sweat, the sensation of the skin slamming against skin, the exquisite friction...and all of it forbidden.

Broken vows, and failed resolve.

Orgasm thundered through Will, an electrical storm of overwhelming sensation, years of pent-up desire for this, the thing he had most wanted from Jack, and had never managed to take.

"Fuck," he murmured, as they collapsed on the blanket together. Ellis held him, as the dry sobs wracked Will.



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