the Dalaverse

I would really like to claim that I am posting this for someone else. I would dearly love to say that this is my second cousin twice removed Mildred's handiwork. But unfortunately, I did write it, and I am gonna own up to it.

It is mpreg. Yes, I wrote a PotC mpreg.

That's really all that needs to be said about that. I have no excuse except to say that hopefully this will purge me of the desire to write mpreg for all time, and the badness of it will be on purpose, and it will be found amusing. If not, well, I intend to go into a corner and die of shame.

::shakes head::

Anyway. On with the fic, such as it is. Jack/Will for a change, a very hard R rating for this part, more to come.

God, I'm so embarrassed.



Nothing New Under the Sun



It took Jack awhile to relax among the company of the native tribe, but the marvelous stuff they’d given him to drink was a considerable help. They were a friendly sort, and he was beginning to be glad Will had convinced him to stop and take a peek at this tiny island off the eastern coast of Jamaica. It wasn’t plotted on any of his maps but they had seen smoke curling up into the sky. The prospect of trade with a whole unidentified island of people he could swindle was too sweet to pass up, and he was always glad to have fresh fruit on his ship.

Like pineapples. Jack smiled to himself and looked down at the bottom of his drink, which was in a hollowed-out pineapple. It really did taste fantastic, and it was much more effective than most drinks made with fruit. Will had consumed nearly as many as he had and the boy was in the best drunken spirits Jack had ever seen. He was whirling about in front of the fire with some of the small dark people whose names Jack couldn’t even begin to pronounce. Under normal circumstances Will couldn’t dance to save his life, but on this night he moved with a strange foreign grace, dipping and twisting and laughing his pretty inebriated head off. Taking another sip of his drink, Jack began to feel that watching him wasn’t quite enough, and he thought he caught a few of the native women giving him sideways glances. No wonder, that, because he was a very finely-formed young man. It certainly shouldn't have been bothersome because Jack provided him with enough entertainment that he had no need to be seeking it elsewhere. Still, much as Will enjoyed their newly appointed sleeping arrangements, he possessed quite a fondness for breasts, and these women had a cultural tendency to go topless. And also to rub themselves all over Jack’s first mate, who was beginning to look mildly interested.

That would not do. Stumbling only a little, Jack set his drink down in the sand and threw himself into the throng of dancers, catching Will by the elbow.

Beaming at him, the boy looped arms about his neck and planted a messy kiss on his cheek. “Jack! Come to dance with me?”

“Actually,” Jack purred, curving his body against Will’s, “I’ve come to take you away from all these revelers. Shall we to bed?” He looked again into Will’s glassy eyes and frowned. “If you’ll be able...”

“Oh, I’ll be fine,” said Will breezily as the dancers parted and wove around them. “Manollo said that whatever was in that pineapple thing is an – an African something?” His face screwed up adorably and Jack grinned.

“An aphrodisiac?”

“Yes, that’s it,” Will replied, actually bouncing a little in his arms. “So, see?” He waved a hand below his waist and pressed tighter against Jack to prove his point.

“Aye,” said Jack with a bit of a growl, “c’mon then.” That explained his own state of affairs as well. He dragged an eager Will through the crowd and across the beach to the little tent they’d been given to sleep in. It was dark and smelled of rank animal skins, but Jack cared little for anything except Will’s hands fumbling at his clothing. They fell to the ground half-dressed and suffocating each other with kisses as the drumbeats began to pick up in the fire-dance outside.

When the way was finally cleared and Will was flush against him, hot and hard and tasting like that sweet drink all over, Jack couldn’t keep himself from doing some good old-fashioned begging. “God - please, I want you,” he murmured into Will’s ear. “All of you, darlin’, all the time, can’t look at you – can’t bloody think without wantin’ to pin you down an’ fuck you senseless...”

“Jack,” Will cried, his knees parting to let Jack fall between them, his legs sliding up as Jack dug out the oil that never left his jacket pocket. “Love you, I love you –”

His voice rose in a wordless keen when Jack pushed slick fingers into him. A few minutes of preparation and Jack was sliding in, clenched by slippery muscle and tight heat. “Love you too, Will,” he panted, proud of himself for managing to say it back to him this time; Will had an annoying habit of fervently declaring his love when Jack was concentrating on giving him a ride unlike any he’d ever known, and therefore too distracted to reply. He was feeling it now, as Will clutched him hard enough to bruise and lifted his hips to meet every thrust, his senses too full of the boy to think or speak or do anything but keep moving as deep as he could go.

Will chanted his name along with the singsong chanting of the tribe, his hand pumping his own cock in time with Jack’s furious shafting, speeding up to keep the tempo of the pounding drums, which in turn seemed to beat a timeless rhythm of the island herself. The earth beneath them shook and stomped, a single beam of moonlight coming down from the hole at the apex of the tent to illuminate the teeth Will bared in a grimace of pleasure almost too intense to bear. Feeling the madness of the beat rushing towards climax, pulling them along with it, Jack bit down hard on the pale throat beneath him. Will’s scream went shocking through his skeleton even as the wailing outside reached its highest pitch and Jack came as well, spending himself to the sound of Will’s soft fluttery noises as he came down from his orgasm. Jack wasted a few moments on simply breathing, listening to the decrescendo of the activities on the open beach. Funny that they didn’t sound erotic anymore. Instead they were almost soothing, a gentle wind stirring bells and rattles and low-pitched humming.

Beneath him, Will sighed heavily and planted a kiss on the top of his head. “‘Night, Jack.”

Jack snuggled against him, brushing at the sticky mess on his belly with a corner of his sleeve. “G’night, whelp.” And sleep took him as thoroughly as the racing passion of the island night.



Will proved nigh impossible to rouse the next morning. He didn’t move when Jack carefully detangled himself from the stew-pot of limbs except to roll over onto his stomach. Wincing at the pain in his skull, Jack patted his shoulder and let the lad sleep. He’d be twice as sore when he woke, and they had a few hours of loading supplies and prepping the ship before setting sail. He returned when the Pearl was ready to find Will still abed, sleeping too deeply even to snore.

“Wake up, love,” said Jack, crouching down beside the boy and shaking him. Will grumbled and Jack tugged on his arm. “Time t’ get going.”

“Tired,” Will moaned piteously. Jack leaned down to kiss him.

“I know, William, but you can sleep onboard. Come on, up wi’ you.”

Will made a series of unhappy faces as he let Jack haul him to his feet. “I hurt,” he complained. “I hurt all over and I feel very strange.”

“Well, I know what it was I did to you last night, but we can’t really say the same about the drink. Lean on me and we’ll get you tucked back into bed in no time, savvy?”

“No,” Will replied petulantly, hobbling alongside Jack and turning his face into Jack’s neck when the sun hit his eyes. It took further wheedling and coaxing to get him to board the ship, but finally Jack was dumping him on their bunk.

Will immediately turned over and fell asleep.

Jack grinned ruefully. That had been some powerful liquor, whatever it was. He’d wanted to barter for some, but the one man in the tribe who spoke a few words of English and Spanish said it wouldn’t keep. Perhaps that was best, in Will’s case. He left the boy the rest of the day to sleep it off.

Night saw Jack creeping into the cabin to nuzzle up to a still slumbering Will. He made a half-hearted attempt at waking him, but not feeling up to anything interesting himself, Jack let him alone and nodded off at his side.

He slept through the next morning too, and the rest of the day.

By then Jack was more than a bit worried. He had Gibbs check a drowsy Will over, since the man was familiar with every malady connected to drink. Gibbs shrugged and told him there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with the boy. Questioning Will only got him with further requests for sleep and the reassertion that he felt strange.

“Strange how?” Jack asked, stroking Will’s brown curls out of his eyes, upset by the deep circles beneath them.

“Strange,” Will repeated, clearly irritated.

“Where?”

Will waved his hands in a vague indication of his entire body and Jack sighed. He was of half a mind to sail back to the little island and demand to know what they’d done to him, but the next day Will was improved enough to get up by noon. Since he shrugged off any concern, cleared the Pearl’s food stores of fully twice his own weight, and had his captain writhing against a bulkhead within an hour, Jack thought nothing further of it.


Six Weeks Later...


“Goddamn, boy, somethin’ wrong with you?”

Will stumbled into the galley and laid his head down on the table. “I have no idea. I’ve just thrown up for the second time today, fourth day this week.” He wrinkled his nose at the lingering taste in his mouth and snagged Anamaria’s tankard of water. She frowned, but took in his pale face and shaky hands and let it go

Gibbs gave him a considering look. “You been drinking more’n you should?”

Snorting at the idea that Gibbs would question anyone’s drinking habits, he replied, “No, I’ve hardly touched any drink lately.

“Must be something else then,” said Anamaria, crossing her arms over her chest. “So let’s hear it.”

Will looked to the ceiling as he thought. “Well, nothing seems to be wrong with my appetite – quite the opposite, actually. I’ve been sleeping more than usual, but I'm tired even then.”

“But no coughing or sneezing?” Gibbs asked.

“No. A headache now and then,” said Will. “No fever that I can tell. Oh,” he added, suddenly remembering, “and funny muscle aches.”

“Where? Not your neck?”

“No,” he replied, “mostly my chest, and oddly enough, my feet sometimes.”

Anamaria glanced down at the hardened bun in her hand and cast dark eyes up at Gibbs, who pursed his lips. “Er, what’s Jack have to say about all this, young William? Has he noticed an’thing odd?”

Will reddened, ducking his head. “Actually, we aren’t speaking at the moment. We had an argument last night, and I can’t even remember what about. I suddenly just got the urge to shout at him and pick a fight, seemingly out of nowhere.”

“Mood swings,” said Anamaria with a raised eyebrow.

“Now, no need to go jumpin’ to conclusions, here,” said Gibbs cautiously.

Will looked back and forth between them. “What? What’s wrong with me?” When they both looked away and refrained from answering, he slapped a hand down on the table in frustration. “Look, whatever it is, I can handle it. I’m not a child!”

Anamaria made a sort of sputtering sound and he glared at her.

“Ah, Will,” said Gibbs, leaning forward, nervousness plain on his broad face. “I’m not sayin’ it’s fer certain, and Lord knows it sounds like crazy talk, but seems to be you been exhibiting all the signs of...” He trailed off, wincing, and Anamaria finished for him.

“Pregnancy,” she said flatly.




Just...just shoot me now. I don't even know if I have the nerve to put this up at pirategasm.