Fic: Please, Captain Jack
Title: Please, Captain Jack
Characters: Jack Sparrow/James Norrington
Rating: NC-17
Words: 769
Summary: This is what he needs: the taste of rum and sea-salt in his mouth and a sweet, tight hole to bury his cock in.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine.
A/N: Written for movie_las for the prompt ‘chance encounter’. Set pre-series, after Jack is branded by Beckett. (James is 18.) Beta’d by the fabulous authormichals.
‘More?’ Captain Jack Sparrow snaps his hips remorselessly without waiting for a response.
The young man beneath him gasps a muffled ‘yes, sir’, making Jack bare his teeth in a humourless grin. Oh yes. This is what he needs: the taste of rum and sea-salt in his mouth and a sweet, tight hole to bury his cock in, enough to make him forget the pain of the still-smarting brand on his arm. It had hurt like damnation, although, truth be told, it’s his pride that’s hurting far more. Placing a hand palm-down on the small of the other man’s back to still him, he reaches for the bottle of rum on the floor beside the bed and takes a swig.
‘Er… are we finished?’ a cultured voice inquires rather politely from somewhere beneath him.
Jack laughs, slapping a firm arse cheek as he pulls out of the Navy man’s body. ‘Turn over, boy.’ He sits back on his heels and watches the other man roll over and push his long dark hair out of his eyes.
‘I’ll thank you not to call me that,’ the lad says, sweetly arrogant despite his sex-flushed face. He glances down at Jack’s cock, probably to reassure himself that it isn’t over yet, and Jack grins again.
He runs a finger over the other man’s taut, smooth foreskin, tracing a vein. ‘Would you prefer ‘slut’, then? Or ‘whore’?’ He chuckles as the other man’s hips arch into his touch, and pulls his hand away. ‘Or ‘princess’?’ He’s teasing openly now, watching the midshipman’s face, enjoying the game.
‘James,’ the boy says, blinking up at him.
The response elicits a real smile from Jack. ‘James, eh? I thought we said no names.’
‘Just get on with it,’ James groans. ‘Please, Captain.’
‘Say ‘please, Captain Jack’.’
‘Please, Captain Jack,’ James says through gritted teeth. Jack plays with his pretty cock some more, makes him beg some more, bringing them both to the edge once again before he guides James’s long legs over his shoulders and plunges into him again. He fists his hands and buries them into the pillows on either side of James’s head, ignoring the pain that shoots up his branded arm as he forces James’s lips apart with his tongue.
‘Arms around my neck,’ he orders, panting into James’s mouth as he thrusts deeply, making the boy cry out. James obeys mindlessly, thrusting one hand down the back of Jack’s shirt and raking his blunt nails across Jack’s skin as his other hand grasps a handful of Jack’s messy hair, drawing his head down for another hungry kiss.
Jack makes his thrusts shallower, flicking his tongue into James’s mouth, tasting rum. A sailor’s mouth, for all his Naval finery. He reaches between their bodies, grasps James’s cock and makes them both come spectacularly.
It almost seems a shame to go through with the plan, but pride gets the better of him. He eases himself gently out of James, stealing a last kiss as they separate. ‘Open your eyes,’ he says, slapping the Navy man’s face lightly as the younger man tries to catch his breath. ‘I want you to see this.’
‘What?’ James says, confused, exhausted. Jack wrenches his sleeve up, bares his burnt flesh to James’s gaze, the branded P sharply outlined against his bronze skin.
‘There,’ he says. ‘Fucked by a pirate, Navy. How’s it feel?’
James says absolutely nothing. They watch each other in silence for several moments, still panting for breath, James’s legs still loosely wrapped around Jack’s hips.
Then James lunges for the revolver beneath his coat on the bedside table, even as Jack pulls his fist back and punches him hard on the jaw, cutting his valiant attempt short.
He never stood a chance, Jack thinks as he watches the young man slump back against the pillows, knocked out cold, a thin trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. He wipes the blood away with the pad of his thumb, and moves James’s head so it rests at a less awkward angle.
He buttons up his breeches, yanks his coat on and leaves the small room, knowing he will be far away from the tavern before James regains his senses. James. If that was even his real name. Cold air slices into his lungs as he strides off into the night, his long coat billowing behind him. There’s no victory in what he’s done, but no space for regret, either.
If they’re going to accuse him of being a pirate, then he’s going to be the best damned pirate Cutler Fucking Beckett ever laid eyes on.
Characters: Jack Sparrow/James Norrington
Rating: NC-17
Words: 769
Summary: This is what he needs: the taste of rum and sea-salt in his mouth and a sweet, tight hole to bury his cock in.
Disclaimer: The characters are not mine.
A/N: Written for movie_las for the prompt ‘chance encounter’. Set pre-series, after Jack is branded by Beckett. (James is 18.) Beta’d by the fabulous authormichals.
‘More?’ Captain Jack Sparrow snaps his hips remorselessly without waiting for a response.
The young man beneath him gasps a muffled ‘yes, sir’, making Jack bare his teeth in a humourless grin. Oh yes. This is what he needs: the taste of rum and sea-salt in his mouth and a sweet, tight hole to bury his cock in, enough to make him forget the pain of the still-smarting brand on his arm. It had hurt like damnation, although, truth be told, it’s his pride that’s hurting far more. Placing a hand palm-down on the small of the other man’s back to still him, he reaches for the bottle of rum on the floor beside the bed and takes a swig.
‘Er… are we finished?’ a cultured voice inquires rather politely from somewhere beneath him.
Jack laughs, slapping a firm arse cheek as he pulls out of the Navy man’s body. ‘Turn over, boy.’ He sits back on his heels and watches the other man roll over and push his long dark hair out of his eyes.
‘I’ll thank you not to call me that,’ the lad says, sweetly arrogant despite his sex-flushed face. He glances down at Jack’s cock, probably to reassure himself that it isn’t over yet, and Jack grins again.
He runs a finger over the other man’s taut, smooth foreskin, tracing a vein. ‘Would you prefer ‘slut’, then? Or ‘whore’?’ He chuckles as the other man’s hips arch into his touch, and pulls his hand away. ‘Or ‘princess’?’ He’s teasing openly now, watching the midshipman’s face, enjoying the game.
‘James,’ the boy says, blinking up at him.
The response elicits a real smile from Jack. ‘James, eh? I thought we said no names.’
‘Just get on with it,’ James groans. ‘Please, Captain.’
‘Say ‘please, Captain Jack’.’
‘Please, Captain Jack,’ James says through gritted teeth. Jack plays with his pretty cock some more, makes him beg some more, bringing them both to the edge once again before he guides James’s long legs over his shoulders and plunges into him again. He fists his hands and buries them into the pillows on either side of James’s head, ignoring the pain that shoots up his branded arm as he forces James’s lips apart with his tongue.
‘Arms around my neck,’ he orders, panting into James’s mouth as he thrusts deeply, making the boy cry out. James obeys mindlessly, thrusting one hand down the back of Jack’s shirt and raking his blunt nails across Jack’s skin as his other hand grasps a handful of Jack’s messy hair, drawing his head down for another hungry kiss.
Jack makes his thrusts shallower, flicking his tongue into James’s mouth, tasting rum. A sailor’s mouth, for all his Naval finery. He reaches between their bodies, grasps James’s cock and makes them both come spectacularly.
It almost seems a shame to go through with the plan, but pride gets the better of him. He eases himself gently out of James, stealing a last kiss as they separate. ‘Open your eyes,’ he says, slapping the Navy man’s face lightly as the younger man tries to catch his breath. ‘I want you to see this.’
‘What?’ James says, confused, exhausted. Jack wrenches his sleeve up, bares his burnt flesh to James’s gaze, the branded P sharply outlined against his bronze skin.
‘There,’ he says. ‘Fucked by a pirate, Navy. How’s it feel?’
James says absolutely nothing. They watch each other in silence for several moments, still panting for breath, James’s legs still loosely wrapped around Jack’s hips.
Then James lunges for the revolver beneath his coat on the bedside table, even as Jack pulls his fist back and punches him hard on the jaw, cutting his valiant attempt short.
He never stood a chance, Jack thinks as he watches the young man slump back against the pillows, knocked out cold, a thin trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth. He wipes the blood away with the pad of his thumb, and moves James’s head so it rests at a less awkward angle.
He buttons up his breeches, yanks his coat on and leaves the small room, knowing he will be far away from the tavern before James regains his senses. James. If that was even his real name. Cold air slices into his lungs as he strides off into the night, his long coat billowing behind him. There’s no victory in what he’s done, but no space for regret, either.
If they’re going to accuse him of being a pirate, then he’s going to be the best damned pirate Cutler Fucking Beckett ever laid eyes on.