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| Jack’s too startled, at first, to push the fellow away; and then an instant later he couldn’t push him away to save his own life, because this is absolutely fascinating. This is kissing a man. With a beard and a moustache and a manly smell about him, all rum and sweat; and yet in the middle of all that rampant masculinity (not a phrase Jack would initially have associated with this obvious catamite, but surprisingly apt in this particular circumstance) is a soft, kissable mouth. An eager mouth. A mouth that’s opening under Jack’s and offering more even as it tries to take more, by way of an exploratory tongue tip.
Something lurches in Jack’s chest, and his prick twitches in the pirate’s grasp. This is insane. Jack loves it. He kisses back, hard, and pushes his fingers up into the wild mess of black hair, cradling Jack Sparrow’s skull and angling him for better access. Sparrow’s tongue, hot and wet, squirms against Jack’s; Sparrow’s hard prick is pressing against Jack’s hip, novel and undeniably interesting. Jack cants forward experimentally, and is rewarded by humming and a reciprocal push; Sparrow’s chest expands against Jack’s own as they both suck in a breath, and then it’s back to the kissing. The heated, freakish kissing that’s pulling Jack into a place he never expected to go. But now that he’s here, he could stay here all night, just tasting and tonguing and humming against this delicious mouth. He could stay here, that is, if he didn’t have a better offer on the cards. But he does. So... |
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