Title: The Way of the Lord
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack Sparrow / altar boy (original character) (FPS)
Warnings: Virgins.
Summary: Ever wonder what Jack was doing impersonating a cleric of the Church of England?
Disclaimer: At no point do I claim any form of ownership of any of the characters depicted in this piece. My representations of them are not necessarily indicative of the intentions of their original creators. The plot in which I place these characters holds no relationship to their original context. I make no profit from borrowed characters. Don't sue me.
Word Count: 4,555
Notes: I hope you have as much fun reading this piece as I had writing it. It is meant to be lighthearted, but hot!

The official read off Jack's offenses as Jack stood, not entirely convinced yet that this particular execution would follow through.

"Impersonating a cleric of the church of England..."

Jack laughed at the memories. He leaned on his heels and his head tilted back with a rascally smile. For a moment Jack was totally focused on remembering…

Jack tore madly through the busy street, certain he was being pursued, and with a quickness. He'd landed in Singapore that morning, equipped with a powerful lust for rum and an even more powerful lust for pleasurable company. He began drinking as early as possible, swindling his way around pay until an unexpected incident, wherein he tried to pass himself off as a citizen of good conscience. A woman had fainted in the early morning heat of the summer, nearly strangled by her corset, and Jack bolted to the rescue. Valiantly, he shoved onlookers aside and tore off the corset with his knife, thinking to revive her with pressure to the chest, but the removal of restriction was enough and she sat up gasping. All of the onlookers were stunned, but some more in horror than in appreciation and Jack was chased down the street by an angry mob of men, surely lead by some raving relative of the poor, corset-stricken woman. Evidently, they'd caught enough wind of his dual lusts that they were furious.

Thinking quickly as he ran, Jack ducked into a dark, open doorway. He blinked as the dust settled and his eyes adjusted. Just as Jack began to look around and realize his settings seemed rather austere, he was greeted by the sound of happy, but rushed voices. Speaking in some tongue that he couldn't quite grasp, two men greeted Jack, and he extended his hand, hoping to seem inviting enough for them to let him into their church long enough for him to hide out. He motioned to his poor dress, hoping for offerings and they nodded appreciatively, dragging him back toward a door at the corner of the high-ceilinged room.

Jack was taken to a room where the walls were draped with opulent tapestries and the floor was beautifully carpeted. A rack of black garments hung against one wall and the greeting men motioned to it. Jack raised an eyebrow. They were… Why, they were priests' habits! Jack looked around nervously. They wanted him to put one on. Jack thought a moment and then decided that as long as they were hiding him, it made very little difference what they asked him to wear and he acquiesced. Jack slipped a habit over his head and did a little pirouette to show it off. The men applauded and chattered in their own language. Then, nodding, they seemed to have come to some sort of decision. One bowed curtly at Jack, who stood looking at him blankly, afraid of whatever it was he was about to be told.

"So good of you to come, Father," the man said in a strange and thick accent. "England is very far away. We are glad that you are well."

"Ah, it is nothing," Jack pretended to be sympathetic. "I am very well, indeed."

"Then you will not mind giving your first sermon!" The man exclaimed.

"Uh… Sermon?" Jack blurted.

"Yes, yes. Mass is now. You give sermon!" The man insisted, urging Jack toward yet another door.

With surprising force, Jack was shoved through the door and he stood stupidly on the altar. In the few minutes he'd spent getting into the church and putting on a habit, the little building had filled wall to wall with churchgoers.

"Er… is this mass in Latin?" Jack whispered back through the door. The two men nodded up and down excitedly. Jack felt the sudden urge to pray they did now know any Latin. But with new resolve, Jack faced the congregation and raised his arms in holy praise.

"Hibbety-jibbety, hoggety-poggety! Essings-blay!" Jack said in a loud, sing-song voice.

He looked out nervously, but the crowd did not seem to mind his nonsense. Rather, they seemed dumbstruck. Jack took it as a sign that they were impressed and he kept going. He noticed most of them looked native and he could not spot any obvious Englishmen, so he assumed that few if any of them had any idea what language a mass was supposed to be in at all. He continued spouting off syllables of nonsense until he felt a tap on his shoulder. A small adolescent boy, sixteen or so, stood just shy of eye to eye with Jack, his soft blonde curls tousled over the graceful brow. For a moment, Jack thought he had been ousted. The boy must have been English. He must have known Latin. Jack was found out. Then the boy motioned to the podium on which rested a large, gilded book.

"Will you read the passage?" The boy asked. Ah, so he was English. But he certainly did not know any Latin. Jack froze for a moment. He thought he should spend some time trying to plot a quick escape.

"Can you read?" Jack asked the boy, quietly.

He nodded an affirmative answer.

"Good, then. You're old enough. You read the passage," Jack said, and steered the boy to the book. Nervously, the boy put his hands on the pages and searched for a place to begin reading. Jack looked around and seated himself proudly in a throne-like chair to listen to the boy speak while he searched for a way to make a run for it and avoid a fight with the two men who greeted him earlier, if at all possible. His mind, however, was distracted as the boy began to read.

Jack had never been one to listen to the Bible much, nor to care when he did, but he found himself inexplicably at attention, at least to the sound of the words if not their meanings. He stared at the boy's jaw moving, tense with concentration, and the sweat beading on his neck. The morning was warm and the boy was obviously very nervous, but he did not stutter. Jack felt pride swell in his chest, and something else swell in his loins. The boy finished his speech and sat himself in the chair beside Jack's. He motioned with his head for Jack to continue the mass.

Jack was not a simple man. He had seen more than one mass conducted and he attempted, now, to give a homily. It began in nonsense-Latin, but he found it didn't suit him very well after a few minutes and he gave it up. He began to lecture in English.

"And God saw that it was GOOD!" Jack shouted, pausing for effect. The crowd was again stunned, but it seemed they didn't speak much more English than they did nonsense-Latin. Jack's speech was prompt and concise and he preached the many values of pleasure-seeking endeavors. Ah yes, the fruits of God's labor were intended for men to enjoy! Surprisingly, Jack felt quite good about getting his opinions off his chest. He smiled and looked around. Those who understood were obviously stunned, especially the young altar boy. Jack prompted him to break the bread, made a nonsense blessing and hurriedly shooed the crowd out of the church. They broke away confused, but delighted at the exotic mass they had just witnessed.

Climbing down from the altar, Jack was thrilled that he'd made it through an entire mass and a good part of the morning without being discovered. Of course, it would only be a matter of time before they realized Jack wasn't the minister they must have been expecting, but he figured that he had time for at least one good conquest. And Jack knew precisely whom he had his eye on. He embraced the two native men who had greeted him earlier and thanked them for the privilege of conducting a mass at their fine church. They nodded appreciatively and reacted with grace when he asked to be shown to private quarters where he might rest behind locked doors.

Jack carefully removed his effects from beneath his habit and placed them on a chair in the sparse little room. Jack surveyed the space. It was unadorned and clean, with a bed. The linens were fine, indeed, and the window was close to the ground. The lock on the door was sturdy, as was the bed frame. Perfect. Jack set out in search of his conquest.

Jack moved with the pretense of exploring the church and its small grounds, and he wandered about, searching. Adjoined to one side of the church was a small shack-like structure and inside he could hear shuffling. Jack pushed the door open a crack and peered in. There was the boy he sought, slipping the customary costume from his shoulders, replacing it with his own clothes. Jack thought it far more fitting, if a bit less playfully erotic than costume, though he still wore his own clerical robes. Jack swung the door open wide and the boy looked at him, feeling quite startled.

"Yes, Father?" The boy asked. Clearly, he thought Jack's manner odd, but he was very accommodating in trying to humor him.

"Your reading was quite engaging. I should like to talk to you privately," Jack said. "… In my chambers."

"Of course," the boy said, and he straightened his clothes before following Jack from the room. His manner was excited, and so was Jack's. The boy was exponentially excited to be praised by a new and renowned, if slightly unusual, preacher. Jack, obviously, was excited for less-than-virtuous reasons.

Jack walked slowly and leisurely, trying not to alert his follower to any unusual activity, or at least, to any suspicious activity. He opened the door to the room the two other men had offered and let the boy in. Jack beckoned him to sit on a chair and he locked the door behind them.

"I have a bit of something to tell you," Jack smirked. The boy remained unfettered to Jack's taunts. He was strikingly innocent. Jack loved that in young men. The boy stared at Jack, waiting patiently.

"Do you have any tobacco?" Jack asked, stalling briefly. The boy furled his brow and looked at Jack in childlike confusion.

"Never mind, never mind," Jack said quickly, waving his hands back and forth as if trying to clear the air. He thought briefly. How to go about…

"Something you wanted to tell me, Father?" the boy asked, interrupting Jack's thoughts.

"Aye, yes," Jack said, swaying charismatically in spite of his garb, "I'm not precisely who you think I am… er… Well, you see, uh… That is… I come from a very different sort of sex – sect! I come from a very different sect. That's it. Yes."

"Oh," the boy stuttered, "uhm… what sort of sect?"

"Please," Jack gestured with a smile, "allow me to demonstrate."

Jack extended his hand and pulled the boy up when he reached out for it.

"What's your name, boy?" Jack asked, still holding the hand in anticipation of shaking it as a formal greeting.

"Caleb," he answered, a bit tense and definitely confused.

"Caleb…" Jack pondered. "A good, strong name. Mine is Jack."

The two shook hands. Jack could feel the strength of the boy's hand and arm.

"Relax, Caleb," Jack soothed, placing his hands on the boy's shoulders and leaning in toward his face. He boy did as he was told, watching Jack advance, not flinching as he moved forward. Jack lingered a moment, turning his face to the boy's ear. "You can trust me." Caleb nodded.

"I trust you, Father," he whispered. He was totally oblivious to Jack's motivations.

"Call me Jack," he said. "Please… Call me Jack." Again the boy nodded.

"Jack," it came as a whisper when the coarse hair of Jack's moustache brushed against the boy's ear. His eyes fluttered shut.

Jack did not respond, but instead raised his hands up to the boy's face and held it gently as he brought them nose to nose. Caleb breathed in deeply and did not exhale. Slowly and reservedly, Jack brushed the boy's lips with his own. He pushed their mouths together, then, without parting his lips and the boy did not waver.

Caleb twitched his eyelids as if he were blinking, but did not open them. He thought Jack's manner and accent and even smell to be highly exotic, and he thought it strange that a cleric from a different sect would be sent all the way from England to serve in their small parish. The boy pondered what sort of weird land Jack hailed from and what sort of sect embraced by kissing so intimately. He wanted to be courteous, however, and to continue to impress the new cleric, believing that his impressions might impact the man's decision to stay with the few Christians in the area, or to return home. They sorely needed a new priest, so he attempted politely to mimic Jack's motions. It would seem odd if a handshake were met with a limp hand, and so it must be strange to embrace someone who stood as still as stone. Jack was a God-fearing man, why have any fear of him?

Caleb kissed him in return and brought up a hand to touch Jack's face. Jack responded by pulling him tighter and moving his feet closer to where the boy stood, trying to get up against him. Jack's hands ran down Caleb's slender neck, and into the open collar of his tunic, lightly squeezing the muscles of his shoulders. The boy was slight of frame, but well on his way to manhood, Jack could tell. Still trusting, Caleb left one hand on Jack's face and lifted the other to Jack's neck.

With a decadent sigh, Jack let his mouth open slightly and Caleb followed suit. He was confused, but Jack stroked his hair and neck, which was comforting to him. Yet, as much as Jack enjoyed kissing, he figured it would only be a matter of time before someone came looking for the boy or for Jack, who was surely a wanted man. Jack determined to make haste and he pulled away reluctantly.

Jack put his hands on Caleb's shoulders and directed him to sit on the bed, and it was only as Jack guided him to put his feet up that the boy became significantly nervous.

"I appreciate your generosity, Father, but you must be very tired from your travels," Caleb said, but Jack continued to position him. "Please. I assure you that I am well rested."

"I am counting on it," Jack replied and he climbed into the bed. Jack straddled the boy, whose only real objection was a confused and questioning look, and bent low to kiss him.

"What is this strange embrace?" Caleb asked, creasing his brows before Jack's lips descended.

"It is an embrace reserved for men of God," Jack answered, quick to form any official-sounding nonsense to reassure him. "We have no wives, but only one another for company. How do you think we pass our time?"

"But a priest must give his life to God!" Caleb protested.

"God is everywhere. I have not traveled all the way from England to seek him." Jack said calmly.

"Surely God is everywhere, but–"

"Shhh," Jack interrupted. "God is infinitely loving. And so must the men of God learn to love one another. There exists wisdom not written in the Holy Book for the public eye. Let me show you the way of the Lord."

"But the Lord had no companionship! Christ never took a wife–" Caleb began, but was again cut short.

"Aye, Christ had no wife," Jack said with something glinting wickedly in his smile, "but he certainly kept the company of twelve faithful men." And to this, Caleb could think of no retort.

Jack placed a finger gently over the boy's lips to silence him and leaned to suck on a patch of his neck. Caleb breathed deeply in an obvious effort to calm himself. He concentrated on a feeling of Godly love, as Jack described, but found himself wholly distracted by the physical sensation of Jack's tongue on his skin. Always aspiring to be a man of God, quelling his interest in girls and even in himself, he had felt physically neglected for many years. He longed for human touch and was deeply gratified to believe that the unspoken way of the Lord should include the embrace of Holy men.

Caleb wasn't entirely sure how men could lay together, or if that was what Jack intended, but the literal act of laying on a bed with Jack seemed infinitely good in and of itself. The way Jack ran his hands over Caleb's chest and arms felt stunningly pleasurable in a way he wasn't sure he could identify. Meanwhile, Jack did his best to keep his motions from betraying his ravenous need. He had to portray the love of God and screaming, furious lust would have to be postponed until the last possible moment.

Jack tugged at the edge of the boy's shirt and he sat up slightly so Jack could remove it. Jack rubbed his skin with soothing hands and Caleb noted that they were rough from what must have been difficult work. He did not have time to contemplate what that work might have been. Jack resumed tending to the boy's neck with his mouth and slid slowly down his torso. The hair on Caleb's body stood on end with the surprising sensation of Jack's mouth on his nipple. He trembled and sighed at Jack's hot breath and his startling, but careful teeth. Without thinking, he raised one of his hands and ensconced his fingers in Jack's hair. The hair, like everything else about Jack, struck Caleb as odd, but he found he quite enjoyed it.

Thinking ahead, Jack untangled Caleb's fingers from his hair and sat up to remove his habit and tunic. When the habit came off, Caleb was again surprised by Jack's exotic manner. Jack was dressed rather like a rogue, but the hesitation was momentary, Caleb's attention being drawn immediately to Jack's bare skin the moment it was revealed. Jack's body was smooth and tan, marred by scars and tattoos, thin and wiry. He certainly did not appear to be a man of God in any respect, but Caleb did not particularly want to question it. He longed for Jack to lean back down and…

In a moment Jack was hovering over Caleb's belly, kissing wetly. His thick hair and extravagant beads made for a tantalizing series of textures on the boy's flushed skin. Caleb gave a small and desperate cry as Jack's hands slid further down his body. Raising himself again level with Caleb's face, Jack held himself up with one hand and slid the other still lower. Jack ran his fingers over soft hairs at the base of the boy's groin, moving slowly and steadily. His strong and skillful hand wrapped around his partner's length and applied gentle, kneading pressure.

Upon feeling Jack's hand, Caleb drew a sharp breath and raised his hips up off the bed. Jack propped himself up on his side and wrapped one leg over Caleb's thigh. He used his hand as well as his leg to rub the boy's groin, wrenching from him a series of astounding moans. Jack rubbed himself against Caleb's thigh sensuously, though the boy hardly seemed to notice, being so enraptured by Jack's touch. For a few moments, Jack laid mostly still, except his hand, listening to the sounds the boy made, unmistakably the sounds of someone who had never felt another person's hands, but longed to.

Then, Caleb surprised Jack by turning to kiss him. He rolled up beside Jack, arranging himself under Jack's half-raised torso and pushing against him hastily. Jack extended his tongue, slowly easing Caleb's lips apart, never forgetting his task below the waist. They kissed until Caleb began to pull away, panting heavily, but Jack kept him from falling back by latching onto the boy's lower lip. It was flushed and moist from their mouths and Jack worried it delicately between his teeth, letting their hot breaths intermingle between them. He used his hand to ease Caleb ever closer, bringing some attention to his own neglected arousal.

Tentatively, Caleb extended his hand and ran it over Jack's chest. His fingertips grazed daintily over the warm skin, sending shivers through Jack's body. Caleb looked down at the strange markings on Jack's skin and traced them with his fingernails. He was biding his time and Jack did not rush him. Virgins never like to be rushed. His patience was rewarded when Caleb distracted Jack with a kiss and overcame his shyness. With a careful but decisive hand, Caleb reached into Jack's breeches and touched him. For a moment, Jack faltered and stopped kissing back, a deep and breathy groan escaping him. Then, he came back to himself and growled a bit, kissing the boy ravenously.

Caleb responded with unrestrained enthusiasm and arched into Jack's embrace. Jack, however, pulled away a bit, trying to squirm out of the remainder of his clothes. When Caleb realized what Jack was doing, he followed suit and quickly discarded his breeches, scuffling back down onto the bed. With great haste, they pushed their bodies back together, newly uncovered. The sensation was nearly unbearable for the young man, and he ground himself against Jack ardently. He whined when Jack pulled away after a few moments to rummage through the clothes he had discarded.

Jack removed a small bottle from a pouch that had hung at his waist and unstoppered it, pouring a bit of yellowish liquid into his hands. He rubbed it over several of his fingers and Caleb watched attentively until Jack kissed him again, which distracted his attention entirely. Neither spoke about the oil Jack had, but that fact only concerned Jack. Caleb laid on his back while Jack leaned over him, hand constantly busy. Then, Jack endeavored to engage both his hands and extended the extra one, the one coated in oil, between the boy's legs and back.

Ever trusting, Caleb merely opened his eyes to look at Jack in confusion. He was reassured, however, by Jack's continued caress. Jack kissed his face gently, which was calming, and pressed their bodies together, which was less than calming, but in an entirely satisfactory way. Quite overcome with lust for most any human contact, Caleb voiced no complaint at the intrusion of Jack's index finger. He wasn't sure if he liked it, but he was sure that he could tolerate it given the rest of the enjoyable circumstances.

Then, there was the inevitable twist of Jack's finger. Jack always looked forward to the moment when a man realizes there is more to his own body than even he knows, and the spastic shudder that passed through Caleb's limbs and chest was more than enough to let Jack know he had witnessed that moment again. Caleb arched his back and spread his thighs slightly, giving Jack permission to continue. He pulled himself as close to Jack as he could manage, moaning beautifully as the sensation continued.

Time and again, Jack applied more oil to his fingers and to Caleb's sensitive skin and he gradually moved his fingers more vigorously, in scissor-like motions. Each flicker of a finger evoked some response in the sensitive boy and Jack relished his constant change of expressions, especially as he added the last finger. The feeling of Jack's hand was so foreign and so intense that Caleb was virtually incapable of any other concentration. He gasped and breathed in rhythm to Jack's hand, never giving thought to what might come next.

Jack untangled himself from the boy and sat up on his haunches. Jack rubbed a bit of oil over his own groin and positioned himself between Caleb's legs, smirking slightly. Caleb looked at him with some confusion, but still voiced no complaints and laid rather still on his back, waiting. Jack leaned over hastily and grabbed a pillow and the boy kissed his neck as he stretched. Jack moaned gratefully and hesitated for a moment before retreating to prop Caleb's bottom up on the pillow.

"You can trust me, Caleb," Jack's deep voice soothed.

"I trust you, Jack," Caleb whispered his reply.

"Try to relax," Jack said resolutely, running his hands sensually over the boy's thighs.

Caleb nodded and breathed deeply, readying himself for whatever was going to require relaxation, however unlikely that prospect seemed to him.

Taking himself in hand, Jack positioned himself over his young partner and eased forward. Relaxed, overwhelmed, and well-prepared by Jack's steady hand, Caleb moaned licentiously when Jack entered him. Jack moved slowly, taking great care not to cause any unnecessary discomfort, until their bodies were flush. Caleb lifted his hands and brought Jack's face down to kiss his mouth. The beads in Jack's beard hung down on Caleb's neck and he never wanted to move from that spot… Until Jack moved.

With slight pressure, then slow, gentle retreat, Jack prepared for his first thrust. When he angled his hips slightly upward, Caleb cried out, and Jack pushed into him swiftly. The boy shuddered and groaned, wrapping his arms and legs around Jack's body. Eventually his legs fell down again, as the efforts of Jack's motions made him slick all over with a fine layer of sweat. Caleb still clawed at him lecherously, arching and pulling and shedding his inhibitions most rapidly.

Jack, however, did not reflect on this for too long, as he was himself feeling rather overcome with the approach of his own release. Nonetheless, Jack was determined to give before he took, in this instance, and he freed a hand to reach between them. Jack wrapped his fingers tightly around Caleb's hardness, pulling and pushing with more intensity than he had done before. Caleb gasped and threw back his head, mouth opening and closing ineffectually.

"Jack," he managed to get out, "oh, Jack," to which Jack only muttered in reply.

Jack said nothing while the boy keened and writhed, occasionally stifling his loud whines with a kiss. Finally, Caleb was completely overcome by Jack's carnal touch. His breath hitched and could not form the mounting scream Jack could see rising in the boy's throat as he swiftly approached his long-awaited release. Caleb's muscles wrapped tightly around Jack's hardness and his arms wrapped tightly around Jack's torso, the sensation of which shoved Jack powerfully to orgasm. He heaved his body forward into the boy with great force and they both shouted their simultaneous fulfillment of lust. They twitched a few times before Jack rolled off the boy, who grunted his soreness.

Breathing heavily, Jack got up and began to dress. Caleb watched him curiously, but made no move for clothes. He was utterly spent. Jack looked back at him tenderly as he shouldered his effects.

"What I was trying to say earlier," Jack said, opening the window to the fresh now-afternoon breeze, "is that I'm not a priest."

Caleb's jaw went briefly slack and he could not form the words to voice his confusion. Jack smirked at him, then, and jumped out the window, running comically away from the church.