Happy Birthday MLH!

[aleathiel]

m_l_h, here is your gift.

I know you love them, so I had to try -

Can I claim the dubious honour of being the first person to write NC17 Andy Serkis/Jack Sparrow slash?


Andy wasn’t really very fond of boats. Especially not small motorboats like this one that bounced on each swell and made his stomach flop. But Lorraine loved boats and Andy loved Lorraine and so here they were, miles from shore, as the sky darkened like an angry bruise and the wind began to whip white tops on the waves. When the torrential rain began to fall it only made matters worse.

It was only strength of will that prevented Andy being sick. Lorraine’s eyes were on fire with delight, but she was clearly trying to tone down her enthusiasm out of sympathy for her husband. The air crackled around them and Andy tried hard not to think of shipwrecks or of electrocution by lightning. Was that even possible? If the lightning hit the water? Or would it actually have to hit the boat? And didn’t lightning always strike the highest thing? He was sure he’d read that somewhere. They were certainly the highest thing since all he could see in every direction was the Atlantic.

“Let’s take a boat out for the afternoon,” was starting to look like an exceedingly bad idea.

The strained creak of timbers made him turn suddenly and he was faced with a wooden wall. How had a ship gotten that close without his hearing? And it was certainly a ship not a boat. It had huge dark sails and everything.

Lorraine was on her feet, waving her arms and shouting. Their little craft was tipping dangerously close to the other ship. Andy really didn’t want to be hit, or pulled underneath, or capsized by the wake or…

“Why, what have we hear?” a voice asked from above them through the wind and a rope ladder uncoiled down towards them. Perhaps it was a lifeline, perhaps it was a jump from the frying pan into the fire, but as far as Andy was concerned fire killed quickly. With a nod to Lorraine, who shouldered the rucksack they had brought with them, he swung up onto the ladder, abandoning the little rented boat to whatever fate overtook it.

He could afford to pay the insurance.

The man who pulled them over the railing was strong and slender and reminded Andy of Orlando, except Orlando’s hair was short and his eyes held more mischief. “Lucky escape there, mate” the man said, clapping Andy on the back. “Rough weather to be out in something that small.”

Andy gurgled his agreement as Lorraine was relieved of her bag by a dark haired woman who smiled genuinely, before speaking sharply to the man. “The captain will want to see him. I’ll find her some dry clothes.”

Her eyes flashed dangerously, but she seemed solicitous to Lorraine, so Andy let them go. Not that he had any chance. The young man’s hand on his shoulder allowed no argument.

“Thank you…” Andy began, failing to brush the water out of his face that was running in trails from his sodden hair. The man interrupted him with a wave of his brown hand and indicated Andy follow him across to some steps up to another deck. Andy was sure it had a technical name, but that was far beyond him. A dark figure stood at the wheel, silhouetted against the nightmare sky. The young man flashed Andy a grin that was pure Orlando and then vanished, presumably to aid the crew in riding out the storm.

Andy approached slowly, partly through intimidation, and partly because the deck was rolling beneath his feet and slippery under his feet. “So you’re the man.” The dark voice came out from beneath some hat and Andy wished there was more light so that he could see this man, whose tone managed to convey condescending, interest and humour all in one.

“I’m Andy Serkis,” he said, resisting the and who are you? for fear of being thought rude.

“I,” the voice proclaimed. “Am Captain Jack Sparrow.” Andy thought he put more stress on captain than was strictly necessary considering he had already been told he was being taken to the Captain. The pause was slightly too long and Andy realised he was supposed to have responded.

“Uh… thanks. For helping us, I mean.”

There was an exaggerated sigh and the captain raised his voice into the wind. “Will!” An inelegant scramble and the young man was back, all wet shirt and firm muscle. He must have been hovering quite close by, Andy figured. “I want you to take the wheel while I see to our guest.” He then said something else at a whisper, lips close to the wheel, and Andy would have sworn the words were to the ship not the youth. Then the captain was at his shoulder, an exaggerated wave of his arms indicating Andy should precede him down the steps to the cabin.

“He’s a good boy and the Pearl likes him.” The captain says with the air of discussing something Andy really should follow. “Between them they’ll have no trouble with this squall.”

It was nice to be in the dry and the captain lurched around the room lighting lamps. Andy wondered if he were drunk as he seemed incapable of staying upright. Slowly more light filled the cabin and Andy was able to get his first look at the man in front of him.

His first opinion was that the man must be mad. His triangular hat had been laid on the table when they came in and his long dark hair was tied back from his face by a band of decorated red silk. Bones and shells and beads hung in the hair and dark kohl was smudged in streaks by the rain across tanned cheeks. His white shirt was plastered to his body underneath his waistcoat and folds of fabric served as a belt over breeches and long black boots.

“You look like a pirate,” Andy said before he could bite the words back. And the captain threw back his head and laughed.

*

They had to be a recreation. Andy wondered if they did visitors’ tours. And they were a good recreation. No shortcuts. Even in the storm they appeared to be sailing by manpower alone. Andy couldn’t help wondering if the volunteers had knowing what they were signing up for.

Yup, it was definitely thorough. The clothes the captain brought Andy to replace his own sodden ones were rough cotton shirt and breeches and Andy could feel the rough floorboards under his now-bare feet. Viggo would have loved it, but Andy was reminded of Dom’s splinter.

They sat at the little table and drank rum, and it tasted warm and heavy in Andy’s mouth and maybe it was the rum, and maybe it was the storm, but the cabin continued to rock, heaving from side to side. Maybe it was the rum that prevented Andy asking where Lorraine was even though he was thinking about her. His tongue was too thick to form the words.

The captain’s tongue was warm and alive in Andy’s mouth, and that was certainly the rum, because Andy didn’t usually kiss men, not since Elijah that once when they were filming Mount Doom and it had all become too much and they had needed each other. He thought he’d promised himself never again, but maybe this was never, this strange bubble in time.

The captain’s beard was rough, but his skin was surprising softer than it looked, hard and weather-beaten, yet warm under his touch. Andy wanted to explore, to uncover one by one the tattoos that adorned this fascinating man, to touch them with his fingers, with his tongue.

His own body looked white and uninteresting in comparison, yet the captain seemed to like it, stroking gently with his fingers and urging Andy to lie back on the bunk. When had their breeches come off? Not that Andy was complaining, not with this urgent body pressed against his, unyielding and powerful. Andy’s hips arched up in response and he felt their erections touch and the shudder that ran through the captain’s body in response. “Jack,” he asked softly, more to test the name than because he needed to say it. “Jack Sparrow?”

Jack breathed a smile into his ear, lips quirked in a devilish grin. “Captain Jack Sparrow,” he whispered and his hand closed around Andy, squeezing and stroking his fingertips from the base to the weeping head.

“But who are you really?” Andy asked as he struggled from breath against the lust. Jack’s lips are rough on his neck, sucking and then licking the bruise as it surfaces.

“I’m Captain Jack Sparrow.”

Okay, whatever. Andy is so turned on he’s not about to argue. “Captain Jack Sparrow,” he agrees in resignation. “Of the pirate ship…”

“The Black Pearl.” The name is like a caress and Andy feels it like a hook behind his groin.

“Yes…” he hisses. Then “Isn’t that something to do with that ride at DisneyWorld?”

“No idea, love. You’re thinking too much,” Jack croons as slick fingers probe softly at Andy’s entrance, and Andy can’t help agreeing and surrenders thought to complete sensation, letting his legs fall further, wantonly apart and pushing up into the pressure of Jack’s weight as he settles between them.

Jack has two fingers in him now, and both their cocks in the other hand, rubbing them together and against each other and Andy’s stomach as they make shallow thrusting movements against each other. Andy arches up to kiss Jack, but is caught by the intense concentration on Jack’s face as he curls his fingers to bring Andy just that right about of pleasure and Andy bucks breathlessly in response.

“Now Jack, I’m so close…” Andy can’t really form the sentence, but Jack understands him anyway, hands both sliding away while he lubricates himself, and then his lean body is back, fitting against Andy’s like a jigsaw and there’s the burnpressurepain of penetration and he’s in. Jack gives Andy a moment to let his body adjust, brushing feather kisses across his face and neck and then he begins to move.

Andy is reminded of the rocking movement of the ship. But unlike the waves this brings desire not nausia, bright flashes of intense pleasure that sear across his vision like lightning and Jack’s hoarse grunts provide the thunder.

Then the eye of the storm. Complete bliss in the shattered white of orgasm and he resurfaces, gasping for air and Jack.

*

The Black Pearl puts them ashore at a secluded harbour and Jack winks to Andy as he stands on the dock with Lorraine, feeling strangely marooned. He has no pistol, only the thudding of his startled heart and the heat of his memories.

Years pass and he wonders if it was a dream. Lorraine no longer loves boats and their strange encounter is never mentioned and Andy only remembers it in the early hours of the morning when he lies beside his sleeping wife, aroused at the thought of a bandana and tattoos.

Just as he’s come to admit it must have been a dream Orlando introduces him to Johnny Depp at some charity bash or other and Andy catches his breath at a familiar pair of sparking eyes.

Comments

[rubykate.livejournal.com]

This is very sexy! I don't know why I've never thought up the pairing before, because it works so well! Especially with your beautiful writing style :)

Re:

[aleathiel.livejournal.com]

Hehe, you've probably never thought of the pairing because it's totally bizzare. But it's MLH's birthday and they are two of her favourites, so I had to try. I'm glad you think it works well!

[oliviaramirez]

This is brilliant! I was a bit wary at first because I'm not overly enthusiastic about Captain Jack Sparrow but this was funny and sexy at the same time. m_l_h will love this, I am sure of that :D

Re:

[aleathiel.livejournal.com]

Thanks. I hope she does!