PRESSGANGED
AUTHOR: Rabid/1stRab-id/Raeann
RATING: Hard to say probably R
PAIRING: Spike/Captain Jack (from PoTC)
SUMMARY: Uhmm…well…this is a slash fic with Soul-Free Spike and Captain Jack.
SPOILERS: Well…none
really…I do use the characters and settings from Pirates of the
DISCLAIMER ONE: Sorry about the clichéd ending…but I had to be logical here.
DISCLAIMER TWO: Boy, Joss Whedon is one thing…but now I am Ficcing the MOUSE…I own nothing…I don’t mean to be bad…please don’t sue me….just send me the cease and desist and I will.
The taproom swam in front of Spike’s eyes. He glanced around, puzzled. Men with the deportment and countenances of rats stared back at him from the surrounding tables. Spike felt a sudden chill. It was an unusual sensation for a vampire. It couldn’t be a good sign. He didn’t know where he was or how he’d arrived. The last thing he remembered was propositioning a buxom brunette at a frat party. He’d done it to stir up some ember of jealousy in the cold heart of one Buffy Anne Summers.
He had a dim recollection of shattering glass and then he was here, in a room with no place in the twentieth-first century. The bar was primitive and plain, with roughly hewn furniture and smoking oil lamps for atmosphere. Spike imagined the health department should hear about it. Someone should definitely look into the rotgut the place served up as whiskey. His last drink was burning a hole in his chest and his mind was so cloudy he could barely see straight.
The man who had stood him his last drink smiled in a knowing way, all gold teeth and dimples. Lurching to his feet, Spike managed to stagger out of the bar into the wet night air. Oily puddles splashed under his booted feet. The ground seemed to shift from side to side beneath him. Half-way along the street, he became aware of the smell. The whole town seemed to reek. Spike stumbled to a stop and sniffed, hardily. Dried fish and sweat and offal assaulted his delicate nostrils. In an effort to escape the odor, Spike shook his head and pawed at his nose like a cat just sprayed in the face with water.
“You feeling a’right, mate,” his friend from the bar asked politely. He was leaning cockily against a doorframe a short distance away.
“Does that smell like the
“Can’t say. Never been there, myself. Mostly, I sail the
“Cure for hangover?”
“In a manner of speaking,” Captain Jack said as he straightened out of the bow. Shaking back his mane of beads and bangles, he returned the hat to his head with a twirl of his wrist. “I guarantee you’ll feel much better once you’re aboard.” He performed a sort of bent knee shuffle, moving with long strides until he stood toe-to-toe with Spike. They faced off. Dark eyes stared challengingly into icy blue ones for a moment and then Captain Jack leaned back and looked down. His hands danced through a complicated hula pattern as he outlined Spike’s body shoulder to hips. “My you are…strapping." He popped the final word suggestively.
“Bugger off,” Spike growled, stepping around the flamboyantly dressed man and moving off along the street.
“Ah…well,” Captain Jack sighed, falling into stride beside the vampire. “While I would love to comply with you request, I’ve set my heart on knowing you better first. And those who love me best will tell you, when Captain Jack Sparrow sets his heart on something he has to have it. Once I focus my attentions, nothing will stand in my way. I was once sentenced to hang but I set my heart on escape and…” he broke off as Spike growled and then continued in a more sober voice, “…but that’s a tale for another time. Tonight,” he announced, tossing one hand into the air even as his other arm clapped around Spike’s shoulders in a companionable embrace. “I am a man on a mission. I need a crew. You need a Captain. The salt air calls to you. Surely, you can appreciate the good fortune in our meeting like this.”
“If I hadn’t this cursed chip in my head, I’d call it good fortune alright.”
“There’s a…did you say…cursed chip?”
Captain Jack stopped suddenly and pulled back on Spike’s shoulder. He leaned very close. Warm, whiskey scented breath stirred along Spike’s cheek as the man peered into his ear, muttering in confusion. Without breaking body contact, Jack Sparrow looked his new friend over very carefully indeed. He didn't like the sound of this CHIP. He sidled around Spike, his trim figure swaying as he circled. He touched. He caressed. Without breaking eye-contact he stroked the black leather lapels of Spike’s duster and traced blackened fingertips into the vampire’s curly hair, lifting strands of it away from the scalp to examine the skin underneath. And all the while, he smiled.
Spike noticed the curve of the dark man’s lip, the glint of his gold teeth and the way his eyes seemed to sparkle against the silvery black of his face-paint. There was something hypnotic about the way Captain Jack Sparrow moved. Spike felt like a cobra in a wicker basket.
“Charmed,” he whispered.
“I thought you said, cursed. This is all very puzzling…fascinating but puzzling. Which is it, then? Charm or Curse?”
“Bit of both,” Spike said as he struck serpent quick.
Seizing Captain Jack by his long, bead-festooned hair, he forced the man’s head back to expose his throat. Jack’s tri-cornered hat tumbled to the cobblestones as he and Spike staggered together into the nearby wall of a shop. The weathered wood buckled and popped back again when the vampire pinned the pirate against it. Jack stiffened and struggled for a heartbeat or two. He asserted his muscle just enough to understand the futility of fighting and then he relaxed becoming as pliant as a willing woman in Spike’s arms.
“Very well then,” he sighed, rolling his eyes up in resigned martyr fashion, “have it your way. Ravish me and be done with it.”
Spike pulled back slightly. His mouth dropped open in a grin. He was almost tempted to comply. “Would it surprise you to learn that’s the best offer I’ve had in weeks, Pet?” he asked, his tongue flashing deep pink against his extremely white teeth.
Captain Jack squirmed, shifting a bit to meet Spike’s eye. They were face to face, chest to chest, and pelvis to pelvis. Jack's toes barely touched the ground. After a long measued stare, the Pirate's gaze slipped to one side and he squinted over Spike’s shoulder into the middle distance. Almost a full minute ticked away with neither of them moving or speaking.
Then, still staring at the horizon, Jack replied, “No, I don’t think it would actually surprise me. Not really.” He cocked his head to one side and glanced back at his captor. The stingray spine in his hair bobbed as he shimmied his hips to rearrange himself against the wall. One trapped hand skittered along Spike’s thigh until it was in a position to weigh the vampire’s manhood. Jack bounced the weight of Spike's balls in his palm like a purse full of gold coin. “Weeks you say? I would have thought a little longer.”
Spike felt himself start to stiffen in the other man’s grip. The vampire glanced down in surprise. While technically, it had only been a few weeks since Harmony left, for several months now…only intense consideration of the Slayer could make him this hard. This was in the way of being a minor miracle. Captain Jack made a moue with his lips and tightened his grip. Suddenly, Spike was tingling all over. An electrical current seemed to connect his nipples to his groin. Wild, non-Buffy-related thoughts dance through his head. Spike shied away, letting the heels of Jack's boots drop to the ground.
“Must have been some major mojo you slipped into my drink, mate.”
“Siren’s tears,” Captain Jack acknowledge nonchalantly as he adjusted his lacy cuffs. “They make a man…more…agreeable to suggestion.”
“Like the suggestion I join Her Majesty’s Navy,” Spike supposed.
Jack Sparrow's charming smile flashed again. “Her Majesty has nothing to do with it. I am my own queen you might say, a country unto myself.”
“Do you mean you’re a pirate or a ponce? Figure it could go either way based on the floppy-topped boots and the hoop earrings.”
“I resent what you are implying,” Captain Jack smirked.
Bored and deflating, Spike sniffed derisively and turned to go. "Thanks but no thanks, mate. Can't say I fancy being pressgangbanged." Captain Jack bobbed up alongside him once more as he walked.
“You don’t feel even the slightest compulsion to visit my ship?”
“All I feel is drunk.”
Coming to a stop, Jack sighed and pulled a flintlock from the sash tied round his waist. “I suppose we could do this the old fashioned way.”
“I’m a vampire, you git. Shooting me will get you nowhere.”
Spike continued down the street. Face falling into lines of extreme disappointment, Jack let his wrist go limp so the gun was pointing at the ground and said, “Just as well, I’ve only got the one bullet.”
“Saving it for a special occasion are you?”
“You can say that again.”
“Saving it for a special occasion are y…uhm…” Spike halted in his tracks.
“AHA!” Jack crowed. “Now…turn around and come back here.”
Stomach cramping and legs wobbling in protest, Spike complied with the request.
“There,” Jack said when they were standing side by side again. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He tapped Spike on the chest with the tip of his flintlock before tucking the weapon back into its original location. “Still, I can see we might have a problem with you being a vampire. Not that I personally have anything against the undead, mind you. Far from it, in fact, some of my best friends are undead. But I can’t have you eating the live ones. It would go against the Code.”
“And I will, first chance I get,” Spike lied. “So you best let me go about my business.”
“What? And waste this golden opportunity to do a fellow creature a good deed? I ask you. Is Captain Jack the sort of scalawag that turns his back on a man in need?” When Spike didn’t respond, Jack tilted his head so he could place his lips against the vampire’s ear and whispered, “No.”
“No,” Spike whispered back.
“But you obviously can’t stay on board more than a few hours. Best be in and out before sunrise. Just long enough to ravish me and then off you go.”
“I’m not going to ravish you,” Spike announced but he settled an arm around the Captain Jack’s trim waist and pulled him closer. Jack took a moment to twirl his mustache so it curved up jauntily. Then, he closed his eyes and opened his lips to Spike. They kissed long and hard, hips grinding together until Jack was forced to break free and suck in air.
“You’ll ravish me or I’ll slap you in irons, you savvy?” Jack said, when he could speak without gasping. He considered for a moment and then amended. “Then again maybe I’ll slap you in irons just on principle. Imagine you'd look fetching in irons.”
Weaving drunkenly, they manhandled each other with complete abandon as they turned their steps toward the bay and the anchored Black Pearl.
“I’ll fight you every inch of the way on this,” Spike snarled softly before biting down gently in the curve of the other man's neck. Spike noted absently, that's they had reached the docks as he slipped both hands inside Jack's loose white blouse and then down into his trousers.
“Oh, please do fight me, I can't abide a lack of spirit.”
“Have you got any oil?” Spike asked conversationally as they tumbled, half-naked onto the deck of the Black Pearl. The crewman on guard glanced up and then looked hastily away.
“Barrels full of it.”
There was a strange, insistent noise but neither of the intertwined lovers appeared to notice it.
“Oil,” Buffy whimpered, burrowing her head under her arm in an effort to avoid the bright light and dinging bell that had no place on the deck of a pirate vessel.
Dawn shook her again. “Buffy, come on, you’re going to be late your first day on the job.”
“Job? What? No…there were pirates.”
The Slayer sat up blinking and rubbing her eyes. She was in her new apartment in
As Buffy felt the depression settle back onto her shoulders, Dawn gushed, “Yeah, wasn't that a great movie? I can't believe we waited so long to see it." She smiled down at her sister, glad to see Buffy's mind was finally on something besides Spike. "So, it sounds like you dreamed about Orlando Bloom all night, too.”
THE END