![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
salmon_pinkTitle: Wasted
Fandom: Pirates Of The Caribbean
Pairing: Jack/Jack/Jack/Jack/Jack
Rating: NC-17
Words: 656
Timeline: At World's End
Notes: Spoilers for At World's End. Orgy. Selfcest.
Summary: A Captain, a crew. A lack of proper sailing weather.
“Well, it stands to reason, with us all being men, and men having certain needs. And who better to understand the needs of men than other men, eh? Makes perfectly logical sense, in a nonsensical way, which is usually the best way, because if something is nonsensical then it needn’t be excused, because excuses are a form of reasoning, and reason cannot be applied if the endeavour is nonsensical and, since that is what this endeavour is, it stands to reason, which isn’t applicable here, that -”
“Oh, be quiet,” said Jack in an exasperated manner, grabbing Jack and pulling him closer.
Jack had to admit, having Jack’s tongue is his mouth was a very effective way of shutting him up.
Jack watched the exchange with dark sharp eyes, bearing his teeth slightly as Jack grabbed at Jack’s dreadlocks, using the grip to tilt his head back and plunder his mouth more forcefully. Jack, who had been stroking his thigh idly, seemed to agree, practically leaping forwards in order to run a rough pink tongue over the exposed flesh of Jack’s throat.
Jack, already stripped to just his boots and bandana, offered a toothy grin to Jack, swaggering over to straddle Jack’s thighs, all tanned skin and achingly hard flesh, which managed to distract Jack entirely, even when Jack let out a fitful moan from where he was trapped under three writhing bodies.
The sun was scorching, but Jack didn’t care, could barely feel it. He was melting, yes, but it had more to do with the fingers that pressed against him, short nails scrapping over him. Jack’s hands were positively wicked, pirate through and through, teasing at him, pushing inside, and his head rolled back, only for his eyes to make contact with Jack, leaning back on his elbows, Jack’s head moving obscenely between his spread legs. Jack gasped, which turned into a groan as Jack’s fingers crooked and coaxed at him, and found he couldn’t look away from that fierce glint in Jack’s eye.
Jack grinned around his mouthful, the faintest hint of teeth making Jack buck against him, but Jack’s hands were firm, pinning Jack’s hips against the wood of the deck. He so loved making Jack squirm, so pretty and so fitful, so loved that control. And then, quite suddenly, everything seemed to slip away from him as a nimble wet tongue swiped over him from behind, lapping at his entrance, and Jack gasped and groaned, and the vibration of it was enough to make Jack groan as well. And Jack wasn’t quite sure who was so determined to steal his composure from him, who was skilfully doing just that with only a tongue and, oh, a damp finger, but Jack had a feeling it just had to be Jack.
Jack knew he probably shouldn’t, but, really, what good was denying himself such a feast. Jack on all fours, head ducked down, exposed arse raised so temptingly. Tattoos standing out so prominently against sun-kissed skin, just begging for a taste. A man only lived once, right? What use was there in denying himself pleasure?
Jack sighed and pulled the brim of his hat down lower. Men at sea, and all that, and with no wind, well, he could allow his crew a moment of depravity. After all, the rum was gone. What else was there to do? He glanced down at Jack, who had crawled towards him and was now gazing up at him through lowered lashes, darkly circled eyes wanton and inviting. He supposed it was only fair that the Captain lead by example, wouldn’t do for him to always remain aloof from his crew. A good Captain knew when it was time to get his hands dirtied. Jack seemed to agree, licking a path up Jack’s boot and over his ankle. Nice to know everyone was on the same page. Well, nearly everyone.
“Oi, you, get away from that goat!”
Fandom: Pirates Of The Caribbean
Pairing: Jack/Jack/Jack/Jack/Jack
Rating: NC-17
Words: 656
Timeline: At World's End
Notes: Spoilers for At World's End. Orgy. Selfcest.
Summary: A Captain, a crew. A lack of proper sailing weather.
“Well, it stands to reason, with us all being men, and men having certain needs. And who better to understand the needs of men than other men, eh? Makes perfectly logical sense, in a nonsensical way, which is usually the best way, because if something is nonsensical then it needn’t be excused, because excuses are a form of reasoning, and reason cannot be applied if the endeavour is nonsensical and, since that is what this endeavour is, it stands to reason, which isn’t applicable here, that -”
“Oh, be quiet,” said Jack in an exasperated manner, grabbing Jack and pulling him closer.
Jack had to admit, having Jack’s tongue is his mouth was a very effective way of shutting him up.
Jack watched the exchange with dark sharp eyes, bearing his teeth slightly as Jack grabbed at Jack’s dreadlocks, using the grip to tilt his head back and plunder his mouth more forcefully. Jack, who had been stroking his thigh idly, seemed to agree, practically leaping forwards in order to run a rough pink tongue over the exposed flesh of Jack’s throat.
Jack, already stripped to just his boots and bandana, offered a toothy grin to Jack, swaggering over to straddle Jack’s thighs, all tanned skin and achingly hard flesh, which managed to distract Jack entirely, even when Jack let out a fitful moan from where he was trapped under three writhing bodies.
The sun was scorching, but Jack didn’t care, could barely feel it. He was melting, yes, but it had more to do with the fingers that pressed against him, short nails scrapping over him. Jack’s hands were positively wicked, pirate through and through, teasing at him, pushing inside, and his head rolled back, only for his eyes to make contact with Jack, leaning back on his elbows, Jack’s head moving obscenely between his spread legs. Jack gasped, which turned into a groan as Jack’s fingers crooked and coaxed at him, and found he couldn’t look away from that fierce glint in Jack’s eye.
Jack grinned around his mouthful, the faintest hint of teeth making Jack buck against him, but Jack’s hands were firm, pinning Jack’s hips against the wood of the deck. He so loved making Jack squirm, so pretty and so fitful, so loved that control. And then, quite suddenly, everything seemed to slip away from him as a nimble wet tongue swiped over him from behind, lapping at his entrance, and Jack gasped and groaned, and the vibration of it was enough to make Jack groan as well. And Jack wasn’t quite sure who was so determined to steal his composure from him, who was skilfully doing just that with only a tongue and, oh, a damp finger, but Jack had a feeling it just had to be Jack.
Jack knew he probably shouldn’t, but, really, what good was denying himself such a feast. Jack on all fours, head ducked down, exposed arse raised so temptingly. Tattoos standing out so prominently against sun-kissed skin, just begging for a taste. A man only lived once, right? What use was there in denying himself pleasure?
Jack sighed and pulled the brim of his hat down lower. Men at sea, and all that, and with no wind, well, he could allow his crew a moment of depravity. After all, the rum was gone. What else was there to do? He glanced down at Jack, who had crawled towards him and was now gazing up at him through lowered lashes, darkly circled eyes wanton and inviting. He supposed it was only fair that the Captain lead by example, wouldn’t do for him to always remain aloof from his crew. A good Captain knew when it was time to get his hands dirtied. Jack seemed to agree, licking a path up Jack’s boot and over his ankle. Nice to know everyone was on the same page. Well, nearly everyone.
“Oi, you, get away from that goat!”
