And Taxes 9 - The Mad Fangirl

Title: "Have At" - A Valentines' Day Taxverse Snippet.
Author: The Mad Fangirl - batya_93@yahoo.com

Disclaimer: Not mine, savvy?

Rating: NC-17

Arrrrchive: Yes, please - just tell me where.

Pairings: W/J, E/N
Warnings: Hot guy-guy slashy action; i.e. men having graphic sex with
other men. Also, for those that avoid such things, there are het
references. Nothing more graphic than the description of lingerie,
though, and it's only to serve the greater good of the slashy plot, I
swear!

Summary:

As mentioned, takes place in the Taxes universe. My muses are being
kinda stubborn on Taxes 7, but they felt sorry for me and whispered some
smut in my ear. Yay muses! This fic is dedicated to my buddy Venka, who
came up with the main bunny. Takes place after Taxes 6, for sure, and
possibly also after the forthcoming Taxes 7, if I do in fact end up
setting that one around X-Mas '03.

Speaking of Taxes, you can now visit the prior stories here, thanks to
Melethryn:

http://www.melethryn.net/HighSeas/author4.html#madfangirl

Excepting the last snippet I did, set between Taxes 3 and 4, which is on
Livejournal here:

http://www.livejournal.com/community/pirategasm/432749.html

POVs this Episode: It's all Will, baby.

* * *

Liz was a decoy, and Will knew it.

Valentine's Day being on a Saturday, neither he nor Jack could sneak
home early from work to arrange a surprise, so when Liz dropped by for
advice on a last-minute gift for Greg, he watched her and Jack, both.

A sly look...he caught Liz, and by the time he turned back to Jack,
there was only the too-innocent smile. Peas in a pod, they were, but
Jack was generally better at some things. Of course, Liz left Will no
time to call them on it. With a hand catching the cuff of his sleeve,
they were out the door.

Only as the door closed did Jack wink.

* * *

"So should I be afraid or very afraid?"

"Will, I have no idea what you're talking about. Leather or lace?"

Will thumbed a hanger. "I think that one has both." He paused. "Aren't
you going to get him anything?"

"Why should I get Jack anything? He's the only one of you I *wasn't*
engaged to." Liz blinked. "I think..."

"You know what I meant. Greg."

"This *is* for Greg."

"It's not gonna fit."

"Much as it's a fun mental image, you're right." Liz eyed the confection
of brown leather and antique lace critically, then grabbed it. With her
other hand, she scooped black silk boxers with red lip-marks out of a
bin. "Okay?"

"What about the blue with the cowboy hats?"

"Ooh!"

She ended up getting them both, the friends then settling down at the
food court for a light brunch. Tearing a piece from her peach brioche,
Liz shot Will a sidelong look. "So how about you? What're you doing for
Jack?"

Will sighed and shrugged. "I was going to buy strawberries and chocolate
and take it from there, but then I figured that was clich�d." He ran a
hand through his hair, scratching his head on the way. "Then I thought,
maybe raspberries and whipped cream, and then I realized I was wandering
out of erotica and into recipes."

"That happens to you a lot, doesn't it?"

"More often than you'd think. Anyway," he said, eyeing her with renewed
suspicion, "he's obviously got nefarious plans for me, right?"

"Does he ever have any other sort?" she said in Elizabeth's accents,
with the same woman's deviltry gleaming in her eyes.

Smith gave Turner voice in return. "Miss Swann, you've just answered a
question with a question."

"Funny how knowing that doesn't help you at all, huh?" Liz replied,
smirking.

"You just did it again!"

"Nope. I answered a statement with a question this time. Fear the
liberal arts major, Will."

"Believe me, I do." He sighed. "So what should I give him, anyway?
Besides a rose - I've got a long-stem reserved at the florist's."

"And besides giving him a sound-"

"Liz! Public!"

Smirk again. "Yeah, huh? Anyway, you were on the right track. You're a
hell of a cook; I say pick up a lobster and make it for him tonight."
Pause... "I've got a feeling you're going to be hungry."

Will decided on very afraid.

* * *

Liz ran them by the supermarket and did, after all, pick up strawberries
and cream for herself. Then the florist's, and then Will was deposited
at the foot of the driveway with a brief smack to his rear, and a
decidedly inappropriate "Have at!" as Liz sped away.

Will approached the front door, and noticed first the small silver key,
hung from the doorknob by a black satin ribbon. He wasn't certain, but
he thought he might recognize the make, and so he licked his lips. A
fire kindled, not in his belly, per se, but nearby. His breath began to
come quicker.

//...but surely this is too easy, my own self...// Turner murmured.

//...ssh! you'll jinx it...// Smith whispered in reply.

And then he placed his key in the lock, and found that Turner was right.
The key did not turn.

The next thought was meekly apologetic. //...sorry?...//

Will just snorted. His foot brushed something, and he looked down.

A small red box lay wrapped with black ribbon. Written on the wrapping,
in gold pen and Sparrow's script, was a message.

'The course of true love never did run smooth.'

Will began to suspect the contents, and upon opening his present, found
that he'd been right.

Only a mad, paradoxical pirate-accountant would change the locks on
Valentine's Day, and give his lover a set of lock-picks.

//...is he trying to drive us mad with lust!?...// a pause, and then the
blacksmith continued. //...and was that an incredibly stupid
question?...//

//...gonna be a short trip...oh, *hell,* he locked the dead bolt...//

The bedroom window would arguably have been quicker, but they'd had
security shades installed, and Will knew they'd be down. Besides, it was
likely Jack had the old locks around the house somewhere, so they could
do as they would to these.

//...ah, well. let's have at, then...//

Will sighed, relaxed, closed his eyes, and brought forth old knowledge
and instinct. Turner did not seek full control, nor for once did Will
seek to yield it.

//...you wish to learn this with your own hands, don't you?...//

//...yeah. guide me...//

//...always...//

They began with the harder lock, the dead bolt, manager and smith
together feeling out the metal. Blacksmith's and pirate's skills became
of equal importance. Amid scraping and soft pressure, Will's eyes slid
shut. His breathing evened, deepened. They worked further in, and when
the lock gave with a click, he felt the flush of triumph throughout all
his soul.

//...well done, myself...if we do say so...//

The lock on the doorknob itself was easier, and took a third of the
time. When it opened, Will stepped inside to a darkened house, and a
trail of vanilla-scented votives.

The candles were very newly lit.

//...he knew! he knew exactly how long it would take us. how...//

//...you know how he'd answer that...//

He and Turner were so close now, the thoughts rode one another and
he...they...felt as if they walked in a dream. Down and around, along
the short candlelit path...the bedroom door was cracked and they pushed
it all the way open.

He'd been right about the key.

The tableau before him was lit with taller black candles, scented with
licorice. In a brief, distracted moment, Will noticed that warm blue
flannel sheets had been replaced with black satin. Another flash, and
Will saw a jar warming above another small candle. A brush rested
within...oh. Chocolate body paint.

And then Will had eyes only for the centerpiece. Jack, Jack, of course
Jack, handcuffed to the bedpost. Lounging, boneless, with the bizarre
ease he always had when bound. Naked, of course, but for a crooked arrow
of chocolate that pointed south.

Byrd's grin transformed into Sparrow's smirk as Will watched. "So. Did
ye both bond, then?"

Ribboned key tossed above a dresser, shoes back behind somewhere. "How
did you *know?*"

Grin went wide. "Why, lad, I'm *Captain* Jack Sparrow." He paused. "And
thanks for the lead-in. Best Valentines' gift ye could give
m-mmmph....ahh...um, you're getting chocolate on your shirt..."
The brief Byrd observation was correct, though Will hardly cared. Still,
the shirt would have to go, and if it were already stained, who cared
about a rip or two...twisting against Jack, he shimmied free of his
jeans and underwear at once, looking back merely to ensure they did not
start a fire.

"Your canvas awaits, Will me love," Jack murmured. To Will's senses he
seemed full, as Will was himself, and Will imagined he felt Jack's
selves flowing together and apart, ever-changing as the waves.

Will took the brush and drew that sea across Jack's chest, three
rippling lines. He got to the setting sun as well, but straddling Jack's
hips their lengths rubbed just *so,* and the bird in flight was
forgotten as he fell upon his captain, devouring his mouth while the
chocolate smeared between them.

"Squeak!"

Will lifted away but an inch. "Hector! Shoo..."
"Ah, Will..."

"Squeak?"

"Hector, c'mon, just for a little bit..." And claws clicked against the
floor, then receded.

"Will...mm...Aah..."

"You were saying?"

"Not...ah...at all important..." And they found each other's lips again,
tongues sliding, tasting chocolate. The stuff was sticky and slick by
turns between them. Will's hands closed about Jack's wrists, fingertips
against cool metal. Warm tongue flicking out now to lick his ear and the
friction between them was perfect, too perfect, madly perfect...calves
hooked together and Will ground himself against his captain, who moaned
low and feral. Bodies, souls, each to each in synch and Will cried out
now, his own warmth spreading out between them both. His captain
followed with a gasp.

Moments or minutes later they lay side by side across the dark
smoothness of the bedding. Will pulled the red rose from the nightstand
and drew it across Jack's cheek, and Jack closed his eyes and sighed.
Then he snapped at the rose with his teeth, and Will snatched it from
harm's way.

"But Will," Jack murmured, "Haven't ye ever eaten rose hips? Of course,
your hips rose well enough...though I haven't had the chance to ...
well..." He smiled, eyes half-closed, and stretched, cuffs jingling.

"Oh, my Captain..." Will turned and leaned across the darker,
chocolate-streaked skin. He propped himself up on an elbow and toyed
idly with Jack's hair. When he ran his fingers behind Jack's ears, the
pirate made a rumbling noise that was nearly a purr. Then Will's modern
self had an observation. "You know just exactly how hot you look chained
up, don't you?"

"Well, I don't like to brag..."

"Liar."

"Pirate."

"No kidding?"

"Mmmm...." A long kiss, Jack licking his lips after. Will felt himself
begin to stir again. "...Of course, love."

"That being said," the prior Will put in, "I'll admit I'm a little
surprised the Commodore never..."

"Well, I'm sure he was tempted - who wouldn't be...?"

Will snorted.

"...but all told, his type runs more toward either fine ladies, or
fellow officers and gentlemen. Sharing the angst of honor, the weight of
command, and all that." Jack raised his eyebrows, adding, "Perhaps I
ought to be jealous, as I've gone to all the trouble to chain myself to
our bed and here we are discussing Norrington."

"You do have a point."

"Well, not at the moment, but I feel you're one to remedy that in short
order."

"Nothing short about it."

"Ye flatter me."

"Your ego demands no less."

"Whelp!"

"Don't you forget it." Will let his hands stray to Jack's neck and
shoulders. Jack's head lolled, picture of sinful abandon.

He spoke, Byrd again for a moment. "Damn. Forgot how good you were at
that..." Trailed off into a sigh.

"I'll have to make it a point to remind you."

"Speaking of making points..." And Jack was filling again, stiffening
against Will's thigh. Will gave an experimental grind, got a definite
groan. Then his eyes fell again on the pot of warm chocolate.

"Ooh. Finger-paint."

At that, the gleam came into Jack's eyes and he smiled that bright grin
that made Will need to *do* things...he did a few and made Jack's hips
squirm, and then plunged his fingers into the heated tub. Will traced
spirals above Jack's hips first, then moved in and down, keeping the
circling motions constant on Jack's belly. Lower and lower...the man
writhed beneath him. Spirals became long stripes, and then Will  moved
in for a taste.

He licked, then suckled, staying high on the chocolate-streaked tip.
Jack shivered, trying to rise higher, and Will pulled back, reaching
around behind to grab and hold.

"I ... ohhh... I suppose that...mm... commanding ye to finish me proper
would...be ironic, considering the steel what holds me from a commanding
position...hh..." Will slipped down further and Jack gasped for air.

"Perhaps you should steel yourself, then, captain mine..." Will said,
lifting away with a lick.

"Why? I've stolen ye away well enough...but if ye want me to beg, I've
never been too proud..."

"No need." And Will fell back upon him hungrily, taking Jack half in at
once, at the same time sliding hands around from rear to front, holding
Jack's hips to the bed.

Unable to rise, they *shook*..."William, me own! Will,
Will...oh...ahh....AH! WILL!" and he watched as eyes shuttered and that
dark head flew back, as he drank in his love.

Jack gave a long sigh before opening his eyes. Will met that satisfied,
if slightly hazy look while licking chocolate from the corners of his
mouth.

"Beats chocolate-covered strawberries all to heck," he observed,
proceeding to clean his fingers.

"Playing it cool, huh?" Jack smirked in modern accent. "You know you
just want to jump me."

"Oh, *hell* yeah." And how, exactly, hadn't he noticed his own lust
returned so strong?

//...well, I know not, but it begs to be satisfied...//

//...and he's begging to satisfy...//

Will *lunged,* grabbing a tube from beneath the pillows as he took
Jack's mouth. One hand smoothed sweat-spiked bangs while the other
sought within, finding Jack utterly relaxed, accepting, beguiling,
tempting...oh, oh, yes, he needed this again, now, NOW...pulled back,
prepared, he felt himself fall into Jack with a moan that started in his
toes.

"Listen to your Captain, now..." came the low, irresistible voice. "Give
it up, love. Stop thinking. Just move, my William. Just move."

Thought fled and Will moved...nothing but the burning heat of that
movement and the cries that had to be coming from his throat but
sounding utterly foreign...heat, movement, sound...god...GOD..."AAAH!
JACK!" Every muscle stretched taut, pleasure unbearable as they all
released at once..."JACK..."

Will fell again and knew he had been falling forever.

"...Jack...oh, God, I love you..."

* * *

...Boneless. He was utterly boneless, sprawled atop and within his
lover.

"...love you too, lad. Happy Valentine's Day."

"It is, isn't it? Wow...I need to fall victim to your nefarious schemes
more often."

"Nefarious. Always liked that word." Beneath Will, Jack rolled his
shoulders.

Which led to another thought. "Man, I really ought to un-cuff you."

"Yeah, um...good luck with that...something we were gonna mention..."

"Jack?" Will looked behind to the dresser, then carefully pulled away.
"Where's the key?"

"Hector ran off with it right about when we were getting started."

"Oh." Will paused. "That was probably kind of important, huh?"

"Seems more so in retrospect."

"Well, where's the other key? You had to have another one to cuff
yourself..."

"Yeah. Little weasel ran off with that one as soon as I dropped it
behind the bed."

"Crap. Those lock-picks are looking like a better present all the time."

"Well, have at - you got through the door in no time at all..."

"Beginner's luck?"

"What about leverage? The proper application of strength?"

"Yeah, well, I did have help. I mean, I learned a lot about picking dead
bolts, but now Turner's asleep, so..."

"You're kidding, right? Will? Will?"

* * *

END

TMF

(They get out of there before the lobster spoils, I swear...)

Happy Valentine's Day!

* * *

Credits:

Gundam Nymph, for the beta - thanks again!

Venka, for the leather-clad lusty plot bunny

Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream," for the quote Jack writes on
Will's present (and the fanfic writer who used it last - I swear I'd
credit you if I remembered who�).