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Squaring Accounts - Chapter 1

by Melusina

 

Fandom: PoTC    Rating: NC-17    Dramatis Personae: Jack, Will, Elizabeth, Norrington    Full Header

 



The Lovers
Love-Passion-Intimacy-Connections

The fire blazed higher, lighting the darkened beach and sending up sparks that flickered and danced in the wind. Jack upturned the bottle then pressed it into Will's hands insistently. He held his liquor well, but Will could see the tell-tale signs that he'd had more than his share of rum -- the gestures that were even more expansive than usual, the glittering wildness in his eye, the deepening slur in his voice. Elizabeth was already quite flown with drink, singing loudly and twirling and skipping around the fire.

Will shook his head, and pushed the bottle away. "I think I've had enough, Jack."

"Heretic," said Jack amiably.

Elizabeth dropped down beside them. "Don't be so downcast, Will. We're meant to be celebrating." She held his face in her hands and whispered, "It's your birthday," as though she were recounting a great secret.

Will smiled weakly and took a small sip. In truth, he didn't care to be drunk. He disliked the way the world spun out of his control, the way he found himself doing and saying things that he hadn't intended. It didn't feel safe.

But tonight Jack and Elizabeth seemed determined to pull him into their bacchanal. He didn't want to fight on this of all nights, so when the bottle came around, he drank a little. But the bottle seemed to come around to him more than to the others, and his sips became larger, then rum was being passed to his mouth from Jack's, and before he knew it he was singing bawdy songs and helping Jack garland Elizabeth with flowers.

Everything became a bit fuzzy after that. Jack told a long, rambling story about a sailor who took a seal for a bride, and somewhere in the jungle, a night bird called, high and trilling, and his mate answered with an echoing coo. Feeling almost feverish, Will moved away from the fire, tipped his head back in the cool night air and lost himself in the brilliance of the stars above. When he turned back to the beach, Elizabeth, stripped of shirt and breeches, was pulling Jack down into the sand. She rolled on top of him and laced her fingers with his and they moved together with languid grace, silent and slow. The full moon shimmering on their bodies gave the picture a private quality that Will didn't want to interrupt.

He could smell them -- musk, and rum, and the sweet green scent of crushed flowers -- and over the blood thrumming in his ears he could hear Elizabeth's soft whimpers. Reflexively, he dragged his hand down the front of his breeches, and he must have cried out, because Jack's eyes flew open and met his. Jack blinked once, long lashes sweeping down seductively, and he held Elizabeth still above him. She looked over her shoulder at Will, her eyes sly and feral, and they fell apart, making room for him between them. And then he was surrounded by sweat-slicked skin, nipping teeth and deft hands, and was no longer capable of coherent thought.

*

Will awoke with the realization that he was about to be very, very sick. The left half of his body was heavy and numb where Jack had collapsed on him and his nose was buried in Elizabeth's hair. Moving awkwardly as the blood returned to his constricted limbs, he disentangled himself and stumbled a short way down the beach. The nausea was worse now, but the beach looked so clean and pristine in the early morning light, he couldn't bear to sully it. He hastily dug a crude hole with his hands, retched into it, and did his best to bury the mess, hoping that would also disguise the foul smell.

Awake now, and anxious to bathe, Will picked up his sword (they'd used it the previous night to cut up fruit, and it could do with a good washing) and walked to the waterfall on the other side of the island. A morning swim was exactly what he needed.
 

 

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