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| And – no doubt about it – that’s the man’s yard digging into Jack’s hip. Jack can’t complain too much, since he’s solid as a mast himself, and it feels damn fine to rub himself up against another warm body. Damn fine. And finer still when that warm body’s warm hand insinuates itself between them and adds pressing, grasping fingers to the mix. Sparrow breaks their kiss to say, “Mmmm... I’d take that in my mouth, you know, if it weren’t for the fact that I know you don’t find that a mutually agreeable pastime.” “And I’d rise to your bait,” says Jack, “if it weren’t for the fact that I know you’re going to let me do unspeakable things to your arse.” “How d’you know you want to? You’ve never seen my arse.” Jack explores. “Oh, I want to,” he asserts, with great confidence. Mmm, that’s a truly delightful handful of firm, smooth-skinned flesh he’s got there. Feeling around behind himself with his other hand, he encounters (as fully anticipated) a large barrel, standing hip-high. Perfect. He kisses Jack Sparrow some more, while finishing the job of unfastening the bloke’s breeches, and pushing them down. He tries to avoid direct contact with Sparrow’s unleashed member, but fails; it’s silky and hot when it brushes against the skin inside Jack’s wrist, and Sparrow shivers. He’s excavating Jack’s own prick from the confines of Jack’s clothing, and Jack trembles, gasps, when the bastard has the temerity to wrap his long-fingered hand around both their cocks, together. Pressed together, flesh on flesh. Jack groans, and Sparrow strokes them both. Kisses him back. It’s impossible to resist pushing into his grasp, so Jack doesn’t even try. The ridge of Sparrow’s cockhead moves up and down Jack’s prick, and Sparrow’s hip is smooth as a girl’s under Jack’s hand, and oh, damn, if he doesn’t watch it, he’ll lose it right here, right now... To avert this crisis, he takes a hold of Sparrow’s hand and puts it on the barrel, and Sparrow chuffs with laughter. “Why not,” he says; and then he’s gone, out of the reach of Jack’s hands. Jack is deeply ashamed of the helpless, disconsolate sound he makes, but Sparrow murmurs, “Hang on, mate, hang on... Just sorting things out for you.” Jack’s on the verge of making himself look even more ignorant than he really is, when understanding comes to him. “Oh,” he says. |
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