(Somewhere off the coast of Chile, 1725)
   "Will! Will Turner!!"
   Will woke from a sound sleep at the shouts. It was
Jack, obviously. From the sounds of it, a drunken Jack
to be precise. He’d commandeered the hammock in the
wardroom so that Jack could have his captain’s bunk
all to himself—or to share with whatever harlot he
decided to bring back from his excursion to Santiago.
Will reached a hand out and stroked a bulkhead.
   "Sorry, milady, that you have to be in the middle
of all this," He told the ship. She sighed wearily,
not understanding human foibles so much as tolerating
the ones of those she loved.
   "Whelp!! On-deck now! Yer captain wants ye!"
   In the four years that he’d sailed under Jack’s
command, a lot of names had been thrown his way in
Jack’s search for a pet name to call him. Will himself
preferred "sweet William," partly because his mother
loved the flowers so much and partly because he liked
the way Jack said it. Probably his least favorite pet
name was "piglet," which Jack used on him whenever he
felt Will needed a bath—usually after he’d been doing
a bit of smithing for the ship. "Whelp" he was
ambivalent about. On one hand, Jack had picked it up
from Barbossa and so it had some bad memories attached
to it. On the other hand, he’d heard Jack say it so
lovingly in his sleep that it made the love burn
inside his chest for the pirate. Right now, though, it
was more than a bit irritating.
   Will stepped out onto the moonlit deck and looked
around. Jack was not at the helm, which was where Will
would have usually found him. Nor was he on the
quarterdeck. He heard Jack laugh and tried to place
the sound. It came from above. 
   "Jack?" He raised his head, searching through the
rigging higher and higher until he saw something white
hanging from the crow’s nest. He stepped away from the
mast to get a better look.
   "Ahoy, mate! Come up an’ join me," Jack shouted
down.
   "People are trying to sleep, Jack. Why don’t you
pipe down and join me?" Will winced when he realized
he’d been just as loud as Jack.
   "Shut yer mouths the both of ye!" came a voice from
the crew quarters. 
   "Sorry," Will called.
   The white something that dangled from the crow’s
nest was now waving back and forth. Will figured out
it must have been a flag of truce. Muttering curses
that he’d learned from Jack, Will pulled off his boots
and began to climb the lines. He was hanging in the
rigging a few feet away from the nest when he realized
what he was looking at.
   Obviously, it was Jack. But more importantly, it
was a naked Jack. More importantly than that, it was a
naked Jack who had tied a white flag to his cock. The
flag was waving because Jack was swaying his hips and
wagging his penis in time to a French sea shanty that
he was singing softly. Will bit back an outright
laugh—he didn’t want to spoil Jack’s fun too
quickly—but he couldn’t suppress an enchanted grin.
   "To whom are we surrendering?" Will asked after a
moment.
   Jack turned and smiled winsomely, showing the upper
gold teeth only. "Ah, my love, only I am surrenderin’.
T’ you, sweet William. I’m dreadful sorry. I hope ye
can fergive me fer me wretched, wicked ways, hmmm?"
   Will swung a leg over the spar that supported the
crow’s nest and sighed, trying to look disgruntled.
"Until the next time, right?"
   Jack looked wounded. "There won’t never be a next
time, my love. I swear upon--."
   "Pain of death, yes, yes, I know all about it,"
Will wagged his head sarcastically. "At least you
didn’t bring one back with you this time."
   Jack opened his mouth to speak then closed it,
looking repentant. "Nay, love, not this time. I
b’lieve Olsen may’ve brought back two fer himself,
though."
   Will sighed heavily. "Is it that I’m not enough for
you, Jack? I thought I made you happy."
   He glanced up to see that Jack was taken aback. He
hadn’t anticipated this reaction from Will. Turner had
to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling.
   "I-Will, I’m-I din’t know! I din’t mean fer ye t’
get yer feelin’s hurt. I just--."
   "You just what?" Will said, glaring at him
suddenly.
   "I just didn’t think!" Jack started to climb out of
the crow’s nest to come to Will and somehow got
himself tangled, his manhood bound to the white flag
which was now becoming ever more tightly wrapped about
the supporting lines of the main sail. "Oh, ow!
William, this-Ow!"
   Despite Will’s inclination to let Jack dangle there
for a few minutes to contemplate a potential destiny
as a eunuch, he wanted at some point in the not too
distant future to make use of the endangered
equipment. As a result, he pulled himself up to the
crow’s nest and untangled the flag first, slid Jack
back into the relative safety of the nest, then set to
work untying the cord that held the flag in place.
   "What in blazes are you trying to do, Jack? You
could have cut that off—and it happens to be the one
part of you I would _really_ miss," Will said, letting
his hand rub gently at the member.
   "Aye, I’ll agree with ye there, mate. I’d miss
Little Jack meself," Jack moaned softly.
   "Want me to kiss it better?" Will asked quietly.
   Jack’s eyes lit up and he licked his lips. "Am I
forgiven?"
   Will shrugged. "I suppose so. Besides, it occurs to
me that this is the one place on the Pearl where we
haven’t let my not-so-little Will have its way,
savvy?"
   Jack narrowed his eyes and drew back a bit. "I do
believe, Mr. Turner, that I have definitely corrupted
you. At last!"
   The crow’s nest was not built to accommodate two
bodies so Turner and Sparrow set to work doing their
damnedest to merge them into one. Jack pressed his
back against the top of the mast, bracing his feet
against the rail and allowing Will to stand on the
smallish platform between his legs. 
   Jack sighed as he felt Will’s lips touch his then
start down, across his well-tanned body. He shivered
and found it hard to breathe when Will’s teeth nipped
at his throat then his shoulder muscle. He himself
wanted to undo Will’s trousers but had to hang on to
either the Pearl or Will, which made it impractical.
Despite his desire for Will, a desire to continue
living took precedence.
   Will found Jack’s nipples with his hands, letting
his work-roughened fingers mold them into pretty,
swollen buds. He heard Jack moan his name, a tone of
slight protestation in the voice, so he lowered his
head, letting his tongue and lips perform an act of
contrition on the slightly abused chest. He heard Jack
gasp then begin to hum the sea shanty from before. As
he crossed the last rib, he began to nibble at Jack’s
rum-engorged stomach, letting his teeth travel across
the flesh like an inchworm across a leaf. Jack began
to sing the words of the sea shanty aloud.

Qui portera la nouvelle à Audierne,
Que la flotte est perdue excepté un navire
Un navire appelé le Mouton Blanc
Qui tint au vent de la Torche.*
 
   Will dropped to one knee and began to lap at Jack’s
staff. Jack sighed and started to let himself get
carried away until his hand shot out from under him
and he began to flail wildly. Calmly, without taking
his mouth from Jack’s organ, Will grabbed his wrist
and replaced the hand on the line. 
   Jack sighed in relieved bliss. He could feel the
pressure building in his groin and it made the breath
catch in his throat. Goosebumps raced across his skin
and he wasn’t sure if that was Will’s doing or the
cool breeze. When Will began to hum ‘that’ song, the
vibration of his mouth made Jack come almost
immediately.
   Will stood and his mouth fell on Jack’s. Jack
murmured for Will to hold him and reached down between
them to undo the buttons of Will’s trousers. Turner
sighed as his penis emerged. Jack found it with his
hand and began to guide it to its proper destination.
   "Right where ye belong, mate," Jack chuckled as he
felt Will’s sword breech his sheath.
   Will held tight to the guy-lines and arched himself
backward. Jack allowed him to plunge full-length up
inside. He let Will begin to stroke into him and
leaned forward to press his lips to the blacksmith’s
neck. He slid his hands up the back of Will’s shirt
and the warmth made him shiver with the contrast.
   Will drew a sharp breath when he felt Jack’s cold
skin touch his. It was a bit of a surprise but in his
state of undress, the chill night air was bound to
have some effect. He grew aware that Jack was nibbling
at his earlobe and his beard tickled across his neck.
He wriggled slightly.
   "Jack, stop it—you’re breaking the mood."
   "Speak fer yerself, love," Jack chuckled. "My
mood’s in fine form."
   Will burrowed his face into the crook of Jack’s
neck and concentrated on the sensations of Jack’s body
against his, his tight passage welcoming him, and
Jack’s hands caressing his back. When he felt his cock
begin to jerk and the climax nearing, Jack’s mouth
covered his. When his seed burst forth, Jack swallowed
his cry of pleasure, his tongue searching within
Will’s mouth for any remaining sound. 
   As he slumped against Jack, he heard the Captain
state quietly, "I think that’s the closest I ever come
t’ flyin’ in me life. Imagine, a blacksmith teachin’ a
sparrow t’ fly."