(no subject)
TITLE: We'll Always Have Portsmouth
AUTHOR:
mrs_norrington
CHARACTERS: James Norrington/Andrew Gillette
RATING: R
DISCLAIMER: I don't own PotC. Proof is in the outcome of Mr. Norrington's character in the sequels.
CHALLENGE PROMPT: Seasick in Spithead (First Times)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first time posting here, and I give you: pre-CotBP Midshipman Gillette and Lieutenant Norrington lovin'.
"James wait!"
James Norrington looked behind him to see Midshipman Gillette run towards him with a large smile on his face. For a moment, he was struck dumb before he was able to marshal his defenses. A sick feeling gnawed at his stomach, replacing the happiness he felt at seeing his friend.
This had to stop. The feelings and urges that Andrew Gillette inspired in him were repulsive and wrong, sinful. James tried to stop it, he tried, but thought upon forbidden thought would come to him unbidden: Andrew's naked chest, his smirking, his beautiful red hair. Too many nights lately James had woken up to find a sticky mess between his legs.
He'd be going to special hell for desiring his friend in that way, he was sure of it.
James managed a slight smile as Andrew finally came to a stop. "What is it?"
"The captain gave me shore leave too! We'll be able to explore Portsmouth together after all," Andrew grinned, "and if we share a room, think of what we could do with the extra coins."
James groaned inside. He couldn't share a room with Andrew, couldn't be that close to him without giving himself away for being a godless sodomite. At least on board ship, James could restrain himself with the knowledge of the multitude of prying eyes and ears, but in Portsmouth, they'd be alone.
He couldn't, however, tell Andrew no without hurting him, and Lord knew James didn't have many friends to begin with. He placed a hand on Andrew's shoulder, silently thrilling at the slight touch and damning himself for feeling anything at all. "Of course we will. Are you ready then?"
~*~
The room was typical of the multitude of cheap inns that littered Portsmouth's streets, a bit dirty around the edges and with shabby furniture whose better days had been long ago. Still, for two young navymen, it had all that was required: cheap and dry.
They had gotten a later start into town. Night soon fell, and with that, the prospect of sharing a bed with Andrew loomed before James. He didn't speak much as they ate the evening meal, and if Andrew noticed, he didn't say anything about it at the time. James on shore wasn't very different from James aboard ship: both preferred to stay quiet. What was singular, however, was that he didn't speak at all to Andrew.
Andrew was the one person who could get James Norrington to open up, a talent for which the other middies made fun of them both, ol' firesnap and the ice king. James smiled a secret half-smile. Who knew that fire and ice would get along so well? Perhaps, James mused, it was because he wasn't really made of ice at all; it was only that no one but Andrew chose to look past the stoic facade. His fire had melted it with little to no thought to James' comfort.
"Are you well, James?" Andrew asked with a frown, "You're not speaking much, even for you."
James felt a light blush coloring his cheeks. Trust Andrew to get directly to the heart of the matter. "I'm fine, merely tired."
Andrew nodded and looked outside to the Portsmouth streets still busy with sailors traveling from place to place in search of wine, women, and song. "I have to say that I'm tired as well. How about we adjourn to bed now? We have another day and night on shore to enjoy ourselves, and we can't do it if we're yawning."
Bed. If Andrew could say anything more that would make him flush and become even more off-kilter, James couldn't think of it. Breathe, he reminded himself. He was a lieutenant in his Majesty's Royal Navy. Surely he had the control and strength to remain unaffected by sharing a bed with a fellow sailor.
~*~
Even if said sailor looked extraordinarily fetching in the candlelight of their room.
James turned away from Andrew to undress, hoping to stall the moment he'd have to get into bed. Even with all the layers he had to wear, it didn't take long, and James turned back to see Andrew already under the covers, clad only in his long shirt.
Andrew's dark brown eyes watched him as James slid into bed. "Are you sure you're fine?"
"Yes, now let's sleep," James answered impatiently as he flipped so that his back was to his friend, "I'm tired."
Even as he felt Andrew face away from him, James could tell that his sharp tone had put Andrew's back up. Condemnation filled him, but perhaps, James thought, this would help. If Andrew weren't so constantly steadfast, James might be able to keep his desires at bay.
Eventually, after a great round of berating himself, James drifted off to sleep to the sound of Andrew's deep breathing.
~*~
James awoke with a sound of pure contentment. He stretched so that his body aligned itself with the warm body he felt beside him. His lips pursed and pressed against the other's shoulder, his nose filling with the familiar and comforting smell of...Andrew.
His eyes flew open as his thoughts caught up to his sleep addled brain. Oh God. But James could think no more, because Andrew was turning in his arms and pressing his body closer. James drew in a sharp breath, which was stifled quickly by Andrew's lips.
James shifted so that he was above him, too tired and weary of hiding himself from his best friend to pretend any longer. His hands came up to cup Andrew's head, and he curled his fingers into Andrew's beautiful ginger hair as Andrew's mouth opened, beckoning James to come in. James moaned. This was too wonderful, too sweet, too much of what he had wickedly longed for and knew he couldn't have.
So James didn't resist when Andrew lifted his shirt over his head, too happy to feel Andrew's hands on his skin, searching, feeling. He quickly reciprocated, nearly taking Andrew's head off with the shirt, loving the feel of Andrew's flesh. Then Andrew lifted his hips, making contact with his own, and James felt his eyes roll back at the sharp, biting pleasure.
He gasped Andrew's name and suddenly he was pressing down his hips onto Andrew, wildly searching for more friction. James had denied himself for such a long time that he wouldn't be able to hold on, and he didn't, making a sound of shocked anguish and pleasure as he came. He felt as if he'd fallen overboard and was now being tossed this way and that on the waves, rolling endlessly over and over and over.
It was only when the wave died that he saw Andrew's surprised face before him. His veins filled with ice as the horror set in.
Andrew hadn't been fully awake.
James had assaulted his best friend as he slept. Instantly James was scurrying off the bed, his face a mask of horrified terror. "Oh God, Andrew."
James couldn't breathe. He gasped for more air, but all he could do was wheeze. "Andrew, I'm sorry! God, I'm so sorry! I had no right! I-"
He felt his spine hit the wall, and he stopped, staring with wide eyes at the man who had only just begun to get out of bed.
Andrew was coming closer to him, whether to punch him or not, James wasn't certain. He looked down, too ashamed and too afraid to see his friend's eyes at the moment. Closing his eyes against a strong wave of self-disgust, he murmured, "I understand that you have to report this. Don't let our previous friendship get in the way. I deserve the punishment for doing this, for letting these vile urges take hold of me."
James felt a hand cup his chin, gently tugging so that James was forced to lift his face and open his eyes to see Andrew staring at him, the man's brown eyes holding an intense emotion that James, in his fear and resignation to inevitable disgrace, couldn't quite place.
"James," Andrew said thickly, "You idiot."
James suddenly fell prey to a deep and savoring kiss, after which Andrew began placing light kisses all over his face, punctuating them with words as he went along. James felt his heart lift up and fly the moment Andrew was kissing him, but when he registered what the man was saying, he was positively soaring.
"You...I...could never...do...that. James, I've loved you for ages, but I couldn't dare hope...I would have to turn in myself," Andrew answered, "for I...James, I am in love with you. Can't we leave it at that and to hell with the Articles? I cannot see something that denounces you of all people as a monster to be correct."
James could see that was true, the shining honesty of Andrew's feelings were right there for James to see. Suddenly James realized what every 'sir' had been over the years, an endearment, not unlike his own use of "Mr." when he addressed Gillette.
James licked his now painfully dry lips. "That's insubordination or mutinous, or treason...I'm not sure which. I can't think very well right now."
"Which is it?" Andrew asked with an indulgent smile, "I'd like to know which I'm committing."
James laughed, a good happy laugh that signaled a burden being lifted from his shoulders. Could it be that simple? Could they do this? "You'll likely commit insubordination your whole life, Andrew, but-"
"I don't care. Do you?"
James burst out laughing again. "No," he said in amazement, "I don't and I love you for it. Can we do this?"
Andrew solemnly considered his question. "I think we have been for years. We just never noticed. Now come back to bed. We only have another night on shore, you know, and I want to spend most of it here with you."
James followed, his hand being pulled by Andrew towards the bed. "I thought you wanted to go about Portsmouth, Andrew."
Andrew gave him a lopsided grin. "We'll always have Portsmouth James. Right now, I want you."
James got into bed, and blessed cheap rooms with only one bed. He blessed the navy and shore leave. And he blessed whatever God decided to send him Andrew Gillette.
AUTHOR:
mrs_norrington
CHARACTERS: James Norrington/Andrew Gillette
RATING: R
DISCLAIMER: I don't own PotC. Proof is in the outcome of Mr. Norrington's character in the sequels.
CHALLENGE PROMPT: Seasick in Spithead (First Times)
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first time posting here, and I give you: pre-CotBP Midshipman Gillette and Lieutenant Norrington lovin'.
"James wait!"
James Norrington looked behind him to see Midshipman Gillette run towards him with a large smile on his face. For a moment, he was struck dumb before he was able to marshal his defenses. A sick feeling gnawed at his stomach, replacing the happiness he felt at seeing his friend.
This had to stop. The feelings and urges that Andrew Gillette inspired in him were repulsive and wrong, sinful. James tried to stop it, he tried, but thought upon forbidden thought would come to him unbidden: Andrew's naked chest, his smirking, his beautiful red hair. Too many nights lately James had woken up to find a sticky mess between his legs.
He'd be going to special hell for desiring his friend in that way, he was sure of it.
James managed a slight smile as Andrew finally came to a stop. "What is it?"
"The captain gave me shore leave too! We'll be able to explore Portsmouth together after all," Andrew grinned, "and if we share a room, think of what we could do with the extra coins."
James groaned inside. He couldn't share a room with Andrew, couldn't be that close to him without giving himself away for being a godless sodomite. At least on board ship, James could restrain himself with the knowledge of the multitude of prying eyes and ears, but in Portsmouth, they'd be alone.
He couldn't, however, tell Andrew no without hurting him, and Lord knew James didn't have many friends to begin with. He placed a hand on Andrew's shoulder, silently thrilling at the slight touch and damning himself for feeling anything at all. "Of course we will. Are you ready then?"
~*~
The room was typical of the multitude of cheap inns that littered Portsmouth's streets, a bit dirty around the edges and with shabby furniture whose better days had been long ago. Still, for two young navymen, it had all that was required: cheap and dry.
They had gotten a later start into town. Night soon fell, and with that, the prospect of sharing a bed with Andrew loomed before James. He didn't speak much as they ate the evening meal, and if Andrew noticed, he didn't say anything about it at the time. James on shore wasn't very different from James aboard ship: both preferred to stay quiet. What was singular, however, was that he didn't speak at all to Andrew.
Andrew was the one person who could get James Norrington to open up, a talent for which the other middies made fun of them both, ol' firesnap and the ice king. James smiled a secret half-smile. Who knew that fire and ice would get along so well? Perhaps, James mused, it was because he wasn't really made of ice at all; it was only that no one but Andrew chose to look past the stoic facade. His fire had melted it with little to no thought to James' comfort.
"Are you well, James?" Andrew asked with a frown, "You're not speaking much, even for you."
James felt a light blush coloring his cheeks. Trust Andrew to get directly to the heart of the matter. "I'm fine, merely tired."
Andrew nodded and looked outside to the Portsmouth streets still busy with sailors traveling from place to place in search of wine, women, and song. "I have to say that I'm tired as well. How about we adjourn to bed now? We have another day and night on shore to enjoy ourselves, and we can't do it if we're yawning."
Bed. If Andrew could say anything more that would make him flush and become even more off-kilter, James couldn't think of it. Breathe, he reminded himself. He was a lieutenant in his Majesty's Royal Navy. Surely he had the control and strength to remain unaffected by sharing a bed with a fellow sailor.
~*~
Even if said sailor looked extraordinarily fetching in the candlelight of their room.
James turned away from Andrew to undress, hoping to stall the moment he'd have to get into bed. Even with all the layers he had to wear, it didn't take long, and James turned back to see Andrew already under the covers, clad only in his long shirt.
Andrew's dark brown eyes watched him as James slid into bed. "Are you sure you're fine?"
"Yes, now let's sleep," James answered impatiently as he flipped so that his back was to his friend, "I'm tired."
Even as he felt Andrew face away from him, James could tell that his sharp tone had put Andrew's back up. Condemnation filled him, but perhaps, James thought, this would help. If Andrew weren't so constantly steadfast, James might be able to keep his desires at bay.
Eventually, after a great round of berating himself, James drifted off to sleep to the sound of Andrew's deep breathing.
~*~
James awoke with a sound of pure contentment. He stretched so that his body aligned itself with the warm body he felt beside him. His lips pursed and pressed against the other's shoulder, his nose filling with the familiar and comforting smell of...Andrew.
His eyes flew open as his thoughts caught up to his sleep addled brain. Oh God. But James could think no more, because Andrew was turning in his arms and pressing his body closer. James drew in a sharp breath, which was stifled quickly by Andrew's lips.
James shifted so that he was above him, too tired and weary of hiding himself from his best friend to pretend any longer. His hands came up to cup Andrew's head, and he curled his fingers into Andrew's beautiful ginger hair as Andrew's mouth opened, beckoning James to come in. James moaned. This was too wonderful, too sweet, too much of what he had wickedly longed for and knew he couldn't have.
So James didn't resist when Andrew lifted his shirt over his head, too happy to feel Andrew's hands on his skin, searching, feeling. He quickly reciprocated, nearly taking Andrew's head off with the shirt, loving the feel of Andrew's flesh. Then Andrew lifted his hips, making contact with his own, and James felt his eyes roll back at the sharp, biting pleasure.
He gasped Andrew's name and suddenly he was pressing down his hips onto Andrew, wildly searching for more friction. James had denied himself for such a long time that he wouldn't be able to hold on, and he didn't, making a sound of shocked anguish and pleasure as he came. He felt as if he'd fallen overboard and was now being tossed this way and that on the waves, rolling endlessly over and over and over.
It was only when the wave died that he saw Andrew's surprised face before him. His veins filled with ice as the horror set in.
Andrew hadn't been fully awake.
James had assaulted his best friend as he slept. Instantly James was scurrying off the bed, his face a mask of horrified terror. "Oh God, Andrew."
James couldn't breathe. He gasped for more air, but all he could do was wheeze. "Andrew, I'm sorry! God, I'm so sorry! I had no right! I-"
He felt his spine hit the wall, and he stopped, staring with wide eyes at the man who had only just begun to get out of bed.
Andrew was coming closer to him, whether to punch him or not, James wasn't certain. He looked down, too ashamed and too afraid to see his friend's eyes at the moment. Closing his eyes against a strong wave of self-disgust, he murmured, "I understand that you have to report this. Don't let our previous friendship get in the way. I deserve the punishment for doing this, for letting these vile urges take hold of me."
James felt a hand cup his chin, gently tugging so that James was forced to lift his face and open his eyes to see Andrew staring at him, the man's brown eyes holding an intense emotion that James, in his fear and resignation to inevitable disgrace, couldn't quite place.
"James," Andrew said thickly, "You idiot."
James suddenly fell prey to a deep and savoring kiss, after which Andrew began placing light kisses all over his face, punctuating them with words as he went along. James felt his heart lift up and fly the moment Andrew was kissing him, but when he registered what the man was saying, he was positively soaring.
"You...I...could never...do...that. James, I've loved you for ages, but I couldn't dare hope...I would have to turn in myself," Andrew answered, "for I...James, I am in love with you. Can't we leave it at that and to hell with the Articles? I cannot see something that denounces you of all people as a monster to be correct."
James could see that was true, the shining honesty of Andrew's feelings were right there for James to see. Suddenly James realized what every 'sir' had been over the years, an endearment, not unlike his own use of "Mr." when he addressed Gillette.
James licked his now painfully dry lips. "That's insubordination or mutinous, or treason...I'm not sure which. I can't think very well right now."
"Which is it?" Andrew asked with an indulgent smile, "I'd like to know which I'm committing."
James laughed, a good happy laugh that signaled a burden being lifted from his shoulders. Could it be that simple? Could they do this? "You'll likely commit insubordination your whole life, Andrew, but-"
"I don't care. Do you?"
James burst out laughing again. "No," he said in amazement, "I don't and I love you for it. Can we do this?"
Andrew solemnly considered his question. "I think we have been for years. We just never noticed. Now come back to bed. We only have another night on shore, you know, and I want to spend most of it here with you."
James followed, his hand being pulled by Andrew towards the bed. "I thought you wanted to go about Portsmouth, Andrew."
Andrew gave him a lopsided grin. "We'll always have Portsmouth James. Right now, I want you."
James got into bed, and blessed cheap rooms with only one bed. He blessed the navy and shore leave. And he blessed whatever God decided to send him Andrew Gillette.