By Hook or By Crook -- Part 1
Title: By Hook or By Crook
My Two Cents: SEE THE PROLOGUE!
Captain Jack Sparrow sat casually in the corner of a stone cell in Fort Charles, his hat low over his eyes as he watched the rats scurry along the floor and the eaves. He broke a piece from his dry, stale biscuit and tossed it across the stones, where it crumbled. The pirate smiled and chuckled darkly as several rats came swarming to it. "‘S just hard tack, mates, nothing to get excited about," he said to the rats as they squealed and scratched, battling over the last crumbs. Jack cast a surveying glance around; not much had changed since his last visit. Still the same pattern of stains on the floor, the same smudges on the windows. "Haven’t done much refurbishing, have you?" he called to the guard, a lilting challenge in his voice; this was a man who could not be broken. He picked up the pint of cloudy water and swirled it a few times, then took a tentative gulp --- he immediately spat it out in a forceful spray, some of the droplets landing on his worn black boots. The pirate captain took the end of the sash tied round his waist and with it he wiped his mouth, then dropped it to his side and ran his hand down his twin-braided beard, twisting the beads. "You’d think a legendary pirate captain would gain better treatment, mate." The guard completely ignored him. "Well, that’s rude." Jack dropped his head back against the stone wall and let his mind wander.
The guard flashed Jack a quick victorious smile, leaning his back against the wall and sinking to the ground, setting down his rifle and tipping his hat over his eyes in a manner similar to that of Jack's a moment earlier. For a few moments, the only sound was that of the rats scratching about in the hay. Then the door opened with a swift groan of wood and brass; another guard stepped briskly in, and just behind him was a face mighty familiar to Jack. "Commodore Norrington," the second guard announced. Norrington's sharp glance about the room quickly noticed the guard slumped on the floor, now looking very shocked and frightened indeed.
"Lieutenant North," Norrington addressed him with remarkable cold calmness, "this is how you repay the Royal Navy for your title. Sleeping on the job." His tone sharpened. "Get up." Lieutenant North scrambled to his feet, grabbing up his gun.
"Sorry, sir, I was just..."
"I know perfectly well what you were doing," Norrington interrupted, "...nothing. I trust this will not happen again." He narrowed his eyes, just as the eyes of the lieutenant widened.
"Y...yessir. I mean...no sir." North searched for some signs of pity in Norrington's eyes, but there was none to be found in that cold, hard gaze. The Commodore stared him down, making him squirm, putting him in his place, the silence becoming ever more and more tense.
Finally, he answered with a simple, sharp "Good." Then, as it seemed the young man had been amply punished, he turned from the sight of the terrified creature to the matter at hand. He stepped forward and peered into the cell. "And what have we here?" he teased, knowing full well. "Why, if it isn't Jack Sparrow."
"Aye, it is, James, seems we just keep meeting up." Jack made no move to stand, or to acknowledge the commodore in any manner beyond his words. "This time, though, the service is even worse." Now he shot Norrington a flippant glance, laughter roaring behind his deep, dark eyes. "I'd expect better for a returning visitor, dear James. Didn't you miss me?" Jack turned just a little to face the commodore a bit better, and beamed, so it looked as though he was nothing but a gilded grin shining out from within the shadow cast by his hat. It was reminiscent of an oversatsfied housecat, yet another way in which Jack was as much feline as Sparrow. He stretched out an arm and trailed his ringed fingers lazily down the bars of the cell, watching Norrington with languid but mischievous interest from beneath his beaten brown leather tricorne.
The gall of this pirate, that he would take the liberty to use Norrington’s first name, should have astounded the commodore. However, he knew Jack all too well, and with an undertone of simple tiredness in his sharp voice, he reminded the man. "That's Commodore Norrington to you, pirate." He gave Jack a mock affectionate smile. "And yes, I'm glad to see you back, Sparrow. I'm going to enjoy seeing a rope around that dirty neck of yours once and for all."
"For all the times you say that, James, you have yet to go through with it. And until I am Captain, ye’ll not be Commodore, savvy? Now that we’ve got that settled…" He stood, stretching, unfolding his thin, wiry, sea-weathered body, and sauntered over to lean against the bars, still grinning at Norrington. "What do you say to discussing the terms of my release? I’d rather not have to find a way out…" Jack strolled around the cell, running his fingers along the walls and the barred window, examining the eaves and the corners. "…like the last few times." The captain came again to stand in front of the commodore. "Too much hard work, especially all by me onesies, savvy? So any help you’d be willing to offer, any negotiation, would be greatly appreciated, not to mention save face for you. I mean, the third time Captain Jack Sparrow has escaped from right between your fingers? That would sting, James, wouldn’t it?" He grinned again, slyly and slowly, and cocked his head in both a challenge and an invitation.
Norrington forced a light laugh. "Negotiate. With a pirate." He straightened, resuming seriousness. "I would rather die."
Jack chuckled and launched into motion again, pacing around the cell, a panther well accustomed to his cage. "Of course you would, Co--James, of course you would." He still refused to use Norrington's title, as per his previous declaration. Sparrow brandished a ringed hand as he thought and talked, the words running straight from his mouth without pause. "Trouble is, if you die, what's to happen to Port Royal? Who's to keep my crew and I from…plundering it to bits? And you wouldn't want that, James. So you'd have to hang me, wouldn't you? But you saw how much the idea pained dear Miss Swann---or is it Turner by now?" He added this little barb, knowing it would cut deep. The less focused he could get Norrington, the better chance he had of…persuading him. Somehow. But the man always seemed to stay so damnably cool and collected. Jack continued his running commentary on his train of thought. "Doesn't matter, the point is, she seems to be against my swinging, doesn't she? And she has influence with both the law and the scallywags now, thanks to Bootstrap. So basically…" He stopped, facing James dead-on, serious under his constant unsteady swagger and flimsy wrists. "Neither of us can afford to kill the other, unless we both go, savvy?" He smiled wide, proud of himself for coming to this conclusion, wondering if he'd ever be able to follow the thought again. Satisfied that it must have made sense enough the first time, he widened his smile and leaned against the side wall. "Your serve, mate."
Could I ever use some rum right now, the captain thought to himself as he waited for Norrington's rebuttal.
Commodore Norrington's face displayed a momentary twinge of memory, before he thrust the pain back inside and hardened his expression, gritting his teeth and thinning his lips. "It would do you well not to mention Miss Swann, if you please."
"Alright, leave her out of it then," Jack said calmly from the wall. Damn lovesick commodore. "The point still remains, though, that you'd have a tough time stringing me up. Besides, you must admit, James, love," He stepped away from the wall and shamelessly pressed himself right up against the bars, "it would get so boring without me. The thrill is in the hunt, nay? And so I promise to do my best to prove no easy prey." His dark lips twisted into a slow smile that was far too disturbing to be innocent.
"My 'fun'," Norrington replied tersely, "will be at your funeral, Sparrow. I'll be sure you have all your whores bring flowers, hm?" He cracked a sarcastic little smile, attempting to bring Jack down in any way possible.
His whores… Jack found this almost laughable. Captain Sparrow had learned years ago to take what was given --- and sometimes what wasn’t --- with open hands, and so also to hold it. Fun is fun, but freedom is what matters. "The point of a whore, James, is that you don’t have to worry about being responsible for her. Doubt you’d know that, though; you hardly seem the man to go flouncing about with strumpets." He cast a fleeting and wary glance at Norrington’s breeches, then leaned back against the wall, putting his hands behind his head. "So you are planning on hanging me, then. I always thought you were smarter than that, James." Jack stayed against the wall and shrugged, in a "your funeral" gesture, knowing it would get to Norrington. That man never wanted to be left in the dark about things, but he still always was. The pirate wondered for a moment about "enlightening" the commodore, but the thought passed for the time being as soon as he remembered his quite possible demise.
The commodore scowled and stiffened. The idea that he could have anything to do with such women was almost more than he could bear. Then the "I always thought you were smarter than that" hit him, and his blood absolutely curdled. The one thing that threw him off his calm collectiveness was the suggestion that he wasn't as intelligent as he seemed. That and the look that the pirate had given him when those dark eyes had dropped uncomfortably low. He trembled slightly with what he hoped was pure hatred as he coldly spoke, "I sincerely hope you're not planning any form of escape. It wouldn't work."
Jack Sparrow’s face split into another feline grin as he sensed Norrington’s distress --- he had struck this time. "Not an escape, Jamie love. Like I said before, I’d much rather find some way to negotiate, or persuade you. " There was a small pause, then he continued. "It’s bloody cold in here, Jamie, and there’s nowhere to lay but a hard floor." He walked around the cell again, coming to a halt in front of the commodore and tapping the man’s hat up lightly. "You don’t think there’s anywhere less---" He looked around with an air of disdain " ---prison-like where we could go over this, do you?" The pirate captain crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back on his heels, jutting his sash-wrapped slender hips forward and waiting.
A fleeting expression of consternation crossed Norrington’s face. Was the pirate trying to…seduce him? James suppressed the twinge of errant exhilaration he felt at this, and buried it under a visage of contempt. "You continue to disregard my position as commodore. I demand more respect than I've been getting from you, Jack. As far as any negotiation is concerned...." He straightened his hat in a practical fashion. "I am not a fool, Sparrow. And I do not make deals with pirates."
"I told you already, once I am back to Captain, you can be the commodore." Jack bent forward and said, exactly as if it were some grand secret, "You can hold out as long as you want, Jamie, but you're going to have to face the fact that hanging me would be by far the stupidest thing you've ever done...even worse then letting Elizabeth slip past." He showed an expression of chagrin, but in truth the pirate had had every purpose of saying just that. "Sorry, love, forgot you didn't want to talk about that." With a hint of tenderness in his darkly buoyant and suggestive voice, Jack added: "There are some things you just need to learn to leave behind, Jamie."
"If you're trying to get to me, Sparrow, it isn't working."
James made this assertion knowing full well that both of them understood what he was really thinking. Truth was, the sultry and drunkenly elegant pirate was getting to him, in a way he hadn’t thought could be. The heat and need that was beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach unnerved Norrington, and he held his tongue and set his jaw in an attempt to cool his rampant body. There was a pause, a painful one for James and an intrigued, devious one for Jack. Finally the commodore spoke again; his voice tight and strained. "I suppose we'll discover who the stupid one is at the gallows tomorrow morning. Dawn, pirate." He spat this last word as though it singed his lips, eyes narrowing and jaw tensing.
And in response, Jack gave an enigmatic grin, a grin that clearly hid something behind those dark coffee eyes with their almost effeminate smoky kohl, and slyly, smoothly said, "I’m sure we will, Jamie." He ostensibly resigned himself to apparent failure and cast his body out on the stone floor with a strained grimace. "Hardly seems fair to make me spend my last night on the floor of a cell… and who’d want to be hanged with a stiff neck?" He looked up at Norrington, eyes glinting ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. Then he stretched like a cat in the sun, even purring low and quietly, and shifted to put his hands behind his head. "Really, Jamie, this’s just cruel, love."
Norrington could hardly believe Jack’s brazenness, and refused to believe the response that deep purr elicited. "It's better than you deserve. I should put a sword through your gut." He leaned forward into the bars menacingly, images coming terrifyingly unbidden to his mind of what else he wanted so dearly to put through Jack Sparrow, then caught himself as he realized the two guards were staring wide-eyed at him. James adjusted his wig and continued. "But...patience is a virtue. Dawn, then. So be it." He turned to the guards. "Watch him carefully. Can you be trusted with this task?" They nodded obediently, like bewildered little boys. He turned back to Jack's gleaming smile. There was something so unsettling about it. Could he really leave Jack there overnight? He'd gotten away before....
Jack shifted again on the floor, then, frustrated, sprang to his feet, seeing his chance for one last attempt. "James! Jamie! Come on now; give a man a slight reprieve, won’t you? If I am to swing, then so be it, but don’t leave me in here all night. I’ll…behave, if that’s your worry. And I won’t pull any Houdini escape tricks on you. Just let me have some …dignity…or at least indignity on something more comfortable, savvy?" He actually winked at the last phrase, so quickly that James though he might have imagined it. But Norrington became sure it had been true as Jack stood at the bars, eyes almost frantic, and yet never losing their intriguing confidence.
James’s face pulled into a sly grin. "Well, Jack, when you put it that way, how can I refuse? I suppose your last night, the end of your ---infamous--- existence, should be a more lavish occasion than simply a cold night on the dirty stone floor." He unlocked the door and swung it open, then took Jack firmly by the elbow and led him out and towards the stairs, his grip unintentionally amplified due to his current state of tension. "This way, Sparrow."
Jack winced a bit as Norrington nearly crushed his elbow, but he tossed his head and followed happily. So far, so good, and it seemed, judging by the hand around his arm, that the commodore was responding even more strongly than he had at first shown. Even better. They continued through the fort, Jack trying to make small talk and James pointedly ignoring it, until the pair came to a halt outside a large oak door. As James opened the door, Jack peered inside and saw a richly brocaded blue overcoat hung on the back of a highbacked chair. "Yours?" He asked.
Norrington nodded and shut the door, walking over to the large four-poster in the middle of the room. "You will stay here, where I can make personally sure that you do not attempt an escape." He pulled a few of the many pillows off the bed and tossed them onto a heap on the floor as Jack stepped over to the cherrywood baseboard and leaned on one of the posts, pushing it a little as if testing its strength.
"You really don’t trust me, do you, Jamie?"
"No, Jack, I don’t."
The commodore pulled a blanket from the bottom of the wardrobe and added it to the pile at his feet. "Which is why you’ll be sleeping on the floor."
"Why, James, I’m insulted." Jack assumed the air of a scandalized southern belle as he began to approach Norrington. "Are you suggesting that I had some darker motive in wanting out of that cold, dark, drafty cell? Really, I ought to ---"
"Shut up, Sparrow," Norrington growled as, before he even knew what he was doing or could stop himself, he trapped the pirate’s dusky lips beneath his own.
Jack couldn’t help a small grin --- now this was more like it. He parted his lips to the crushing heat and was delighted to find James’ tongue touching tentatively to them. The commodore was clearly torn between a deep frantic lust and a nervous binding to propriety. So Sparrow offered reassurance to the poor trapped soul; he slid his own tongue softly over and past Norrington’s lips and began a languid exploration of his mouth.
The feel of the pirate’s tongue against his own, the burning, silky, rum-spiced balm that filled his mouth and yet somehow left him longing nearly drove James to desperation. He was attacked with a sudden need to crush, to grasp and take, but he found it impossible to move, to do anything other than submit to Jack’s maddeningly slow and decadent caresses. His mind was screaming to stop this all, just push the pirate away, hang him, hang him!
The voice cried in vain through thick, warm honey, muffled and dampened, till James suddenly felt a pressure along his back. At that moment a shot of clear, cold panic brought a gasp of relief from the all-too-willing abandonment, and Norrington’s eyes flashed open. He could tell now that Sparrow had him pressed against a bedpost, and his eyes widened in fear as he saw those golden hands move to work at the buttons of his shirt. No, no, no! the voice shrieked desperately, Too far! Still wrapped in the kiss, he put his own hands up against the pirate’s chest, tried to push him away, tried to protest, but just then Jack twisted his hips. Cheating!! The voice shrilled as it flew to the wind, and James’ cry of opposition slid into a shaky sigh that could not be excused as anything but assent.
Then his shirt had vanished, and he felt Jack’s hot hands and cool metal rings against his chest, covering his whole body in shocks and shivers. His skin prickled as those two tanned paradoxes moved out over his shoulders, crept down his arms, and before he knew it James found his wrists pinned firmly to the bedpost beneath Sparrow’s strong and unflinching fingers. He tried again to pull away, to fight, but yet again the pirate rolled blithely against him, and his volition was gone. Then, so were the blazing, soft lips that had been sealed to his for so long. He was appalled to hear a pleading whimper ply from his throat, and Jack’s darkly whispered answer to that sound both soothed and terrified him.
"Hush, love, they’re not going far."
Jack Sparrow bent his crimson-wound head and traced kisses all along James’ neck, his collarbone, winding down his chest. Terror rose in Norrington’s stomach, at least he thought it was terror, unless it was… He stopped thinking, then, when Jack’s molten tongue rasped against his breeches.
"…no…" he whimpered, but Sparrow was unheeding, and with his mouth he set to work diligently on the buttons, teeth and tongue finally, after what seemed a torturously long time, unfastening the white linen and taking their prize, along with a strangled sob from the commodore.
James convulsed, overwhelmed. He was repulsed, disgusted, but even so the waves of exquisite heat shook him to the core, and he clutched the post behind him, silently both cursing and blessing that pirate for assuring the steadfastness of it. He bit his lip, hard as he could, but still Sparrow, with his devilishly hot and tender tongue, pulled from him keening moans and tearing, shuddering gasps that he never thought he could make, and most certainly never thought he would. Especially not for a man, for a pirate, for Jack Sparrow, for god’s sake! With this final exclamation to himself, Norrington gained the resolution to tear away from the post and push the pirate off of him. It took all his strength, all his energy, but he did it, and when he finally did, he fell to the floor, shaking. And damned if that dark man wasn’t right there, arms around him, stroking his trembling shoulders. It infuriated the commodore to no end, but somehow it was… comforting. "Jack…" James murmured, "Please…don’t."
But the captain of the Black Pearl couldn’t give up now, not when he had been so close… he had set his mind on negotiating a way off of the gallows, and he was not about to let it fall through. Captain Jack Sparrow was nothing if not determined to elude death. So with deceptively soft touch, he laid James back and danced his fingers up and down the navyman’s surprisingly pale chest.
"Don’t do what, love? This?" and he raked his knuckles over James’ now bare hips, smiling slightly at the tremor it caused. "Or this?" and he walked his hands up the man’s thighs, barely missing the place where his mouth had caused so much delightful havoc a few minutes earlier. "Or this?" and--- James yelped as he felt Jack’s finger inside him, and he bit his tongue till the taste of blood ran over in his mouth. "Oh, it’s not as bad as all that, now, really. You over dramatize." Jack leaned up to gently and quickly lick the small trickle of red from the corner of James’ mouth, and with his invasive finger he brushed over that sensitive spot, sending a shockwave through the other man.
"… Jack…"
"Yes, Jamie?" the pirate asked amiably as he pressed firmly against that point, making an answer from the man beneath him quite impossible. James shuddered and arched his back, no longer able to think, or to maintain control over his own body. He was being betrayed, in the worst, most degrading way possible, and it was by his own self. But that barely crossed his mind as wave after wave of rushing pleasure crashed over him, damn that Sparrow, and where the hell did he learn all that, anyway? …And again Norrington’s spinning mind flew off the tracks as Jack added another finger, and the commodore fell limp.
"That’s right, love, just relax…" Vaguely, behind and beneath the blood pounding in his ears, James could hear these whispered words and the rustling of fabric, then in a warm haze he felt his legs raised up, and the tormenting fingers slide out, to be replaced by ---James swallowed hard, utterly terrified, infuriated, and opened his mouth to cry out, but immediately a half-gloved hand clamped down on it.
"Much as I’d love to hear you scream for me, James, we just can’t afford that liability, savvy?" Norrington glared up at the pirate, sparks of ice shooting fiercely from his narrowed steel blue eyes. If looks could kill, Sparrow never would have been born. Then that bloody pirate pressed in, and the commodore’s furious eyes shut tight. James swore he was being torn in a thousand pieces, from the inside out, all with white-hot daggers. He bit, hard, on the hand over his mouth, but Jack was unfazed, and calmly reminded him "I told you, love, relax" as he began to rock back and forth, in and out, above James, whose whole world exploded, imploded, and held steady, all at the same time. Jack’s hand muffled his moans and cries, but still James knew he was begging, like a common whore, and he hated himself for it, and for … liking it ---more than liking it, actually. In fact, he was all too relieved when Jack asked, "Can you take it a bit harder, love?" and began to quicken the pace, with longer, deeper, harder thrusts that left James shuddering and sobbing.
Jack thought the commodore was far too pretty like this, in complete abandon, steel eyes half-shut, lips parted, mahogany hair swirling around his flushed face, pale chest shining with sweat. He wanted to keep this sight forever, but felt both James and himself reaching the end, so he wrapped a hand around the commodore’s member and pressed home, and it was with some pride that he noticed that just as he exploded deep inside James, the navyman shook and shouted and fell back under a shower of white.
They stayed there for a moment, until Jack felt Norrington stir beneath him, and he slipped out and laid beside him, pulling over the blanket that James had cast there earlier. He brushed a damp strand of hair from James’ forehead, then put his arm around him. The commodore stayed perfectly still, afraid that if he moved something horrible would happen. He wanted Jack to think he was asleep, and luckily the pirate came to this conclusion. After a few moments listening to Sparrow’s steady breathing, James muttered, part to himself, part to Jack, and part to whatever god or higher power might still listen to him, "Captain Jack Sparrow, what have you done to me?"
And from somewhere in that place between dreams and waking, Jack murmured, "Can’t hang me now, Commodore James Norrington." Within moments he was sound asleep.
* * * * * * *
End Part One:
Hook, Line and Sinker
My Two Cents: SEE THE PROLOGUE!
Captain Jack Sparrow sat casually in the corner of a stone cell in Fort Charles, his hat low over his eyes as he watched the rats scurry along the floor and the eaves. He broke a piece from his dry, stale biscuit and tossed it across the stones, where it crumbled. The pirate smiled and chuckled darkly as several rats came swarming to it. "‘S just hard tack, mates, nothing to get excited about," he said to the rats as they squealed and scratched, battling over the last crumbs. Jack cast a surveying glance around; not much had changed since his last visit. Still the same pattern of stains on the floor, the same smudges on the windows. "Haven’t done much refurbishing, have you?" he called to the guard, a lilting challenge in his voice; this was a man who could not be broken. He picked up the pint of cloudy water and swirled it a few times, then took a tentative gulp --- he immediately spat it out in a forceful spray, some of the droplets landing on his worn black boots. The pirate captain took the end of the sash tied round his waist and with it he wiped his mouth, then dropped it to his side and ran his hand down his twin-braided beard, twisting the beads. "You’d think a legendary pirate captain would gain better treatment, mate." The guard completely ignored him. "Well, that’s rude." Jack dropped his head back against the stone wall and let his mind wander.
The guard flashed Jack a quick victorious smile, leaning his back against the wall and sinking to the ground, setting down his rifle and tipping his hat over his eyes in a manner similar to that of Jack's a moment earlier. For a few moments, the only sound was that of the rats scratching about in the hay. Then the door opened with a swift groan of wood and brass; another guard stepped briskly in, and just behind him was a face mighty familiar to Jack. "Commodore Norrington," the second guard announced. Norrington's sharp glance about the room quickly noticed the guard slumped on the floor, now looking very shocked and frightened indeed.
"Lieutenant North," Norrington addressed him with remarkable cold calmness, "this is how you repay the Royal Navy for your title. Sleeping on the job." His tone sharpened. "Get up." Lieutenant North scrambled to his feet, grabbing up his gun.
"Sorry, sir, I was just..."
"I know perfectly well what you were doing," Norrington interrupted, "...nothing. I trust this will not happen again." He narrowed his eyes, just as the eyes of the lieutenant widened.
"Y...yessir. I mean...no sir." North searched for some signs of pity in Norrington's eyes, but there was none to be found in that cold, hard gaze. The Commodore stared him down, making him squirm, putting him in his place, the silence becoming ever more and more tense.
Finally, he answered with a simple, sharp "Good." Then, as it seemed the young man had been amply punished, he turned from the sight of the terrified creature to the matter at hand. He stepped forward and peered into the cell. "And what have we here?" he teased, knowing full well. "Why, if it isn't Jack Sparrow."
"Aye, it is, James, seems we just keep meeting up." Jack made no move to stand, or to acknowledge the commodore in any manner beyond his words. "This time, though, the service is even worse." Now he shot Norrington a flippant glance, laughter roaring behind his deep, dark eyes. "I'd expect better for a returning visitor, dear James. Didn't you miss me?" Jack turned just a little to face the commodore a bit better, and beamed, so it looked as though he was nothing but a gilded grin shining out from within the shadow cast by his hat. It was reminiscent of an oversatsfied housecat, yet another way in which Jack was as much feline as Sparrow. He stretched out an arm and trailed his ringed fingers lazily down the bars of the cell, watching Norrington with languid but mischievous interest from beneath his beaten brown leather tricorne.
The gall of this pirate, that he would take the liberty to use Norrington’s first name, should have astounded the commodore. However, he knew Jack all too well, and with an undertone of simple tiredness in his sharp voice, he reminded the man. "That's Commodore Norrington to you, pirate." He gave Jack a mock affectionate smile. "And yes, I'm glad to see you back, Sparrow. I'm going to enjoy seeing a rope around that dirty neck of yours once and for all."
"For all the times you say that, James, you have yet to go through with it. And until I am Captain, ye’ll not be Commodore, savvy? Now that we’ve got that settled…" He stood, stretching, unfolding his thin, wiry, sea-weathered body, and sauntered over to lean against the bars, still grinning at Norrington. "What do you say to discussing the terms of my release? I’d rather not have to find a way out…" Jack strolled around the cell, running his fingers along the walls and the barred window, examining the eaves and the corners. "…like the last few times." The captain came again to stand in front of the commodore. "Too much hard work, especially all by me onesies, savvy? So any help you’d be willing to offer, any negotiation, would be greatly appreciated, not to mention save face for you. I mean, the third time Captain Jack Sparrow has escaped from right between your fingers? That would sting, James, wouldn’t it?" He grinned again, slyly and slowly, and cocked his head in both a challenge and an invitation.
Norrington forced a light laugh. "Negotiate. With a pirate." He straightened, resuming seriousness. "I would rather die."
Jack chuckled and launched into motion again, pacing around the cell, a panther well accustomed to his cage. "Of course you would, Co--James, of course you would." He still refused to use Norrington's title, as per his previous declaration. Sparrow brandished a ringed hand as he thought and talked, the words running straight from his mouth without pause. "Trouble is, if you die, what's to happen to Port Royal? Who's to keep my crew and I from…plundering it to bits? And you wouldn't want that, James. So you'd have to hang me, wouldn't you? But you saw how much the idea pained dear Miss Swann---or is it Turner by now?" He added this little barb, knowing it would cut deep. The less focused he could get Norrington, the better chance he had of…persuading him. Somehow. But the man always seemed to stay so damnably cool and collected. Jack continued his running commentary on his train of thought. "Doesn't matter, the point is, she seems to be against my swinging, doesn't she? And she has influence with both the law and the scallywags now, thanks to Bootstrap. So basically…" He stopped, facing James dead-on, serious under his constant unsteady swagger and flimsy wrists. "Neither of us can afford to kill the other, unless we both go, savvy?" He smiled wide, proud of himself for coming to this conclusion, wondering if he'd ever be able to follow the thought again. Satisfied that it must have made sense enough the first time, he widened his smile and leaned against the side wall. "Your serve, mate."
Could I ever use some rum right now, the captain thought to himself as he waited for Norrington's rebuttal.
Commodore Norrington's face displayed a momentary twinge of memory, before he thrust the pain back inside and hardened his expression, gritting his teeth and thinning his lips. "It would do you well not to mention Miss Swann, if you please."
"Alright, leave her out of it then," Jack said calmly from the wall. Damn lovesick commodore. "The point still remains, though, that you'd have a tough time stringing me up. Besides, you must admit, James, love," He stepped away from the wall and shamelessly pressed himself right up against the bars, "it would get so boring without me. The thrill is in the hunt, nay? And so I promise to do my best to prove no easy prey." His dark lips twisted into a slow smile that was far too disturbing to be innocent.
"My 'fun'," Norrington replied tersely, "will be at your funeral, Sparrow. I'll be sure you have all your whores bring flowers, hm?" He cracked a sarcastic little smile, attempting to bring Jack down in any way possible.
His whores… Jack found this almost laughable. Captain Sparrow had learned years ago to take what was given --- and sometimes what wasn’t --- with open hands, and so also to hold it. Fun is fun, but freedom is what matters. "The point of a whore, James, is that you don’t have to worry about being responsible for her. Doubt you’d know that, though; you hardly seem the man to go flouncing about with strumpets." He cast a fleeting and wary glance at Norrington’s breeches, then leaned back against the wall, putting his hands behind his head. "So you are planning on hanging me, then. I always thought you were smarter than that, James." Jack stayed against the wall and shrugged, in a "your funeral" gesture, knowing it would get to Norrington. That man never wanted to be left in the dark about things, but he still always was. The pirate wondered for a moment about "enlightening" the commodore, but the thought passed for the time being as soon as he remembered his quite possible demise.
The commodore scowled and stiffened. The idea that he could have anything to do with such women was almost more than he could bear. Then the "I always thought you were smarter than that" hit him, and his blood absolutely curdled. The one thing that threw him off his calm collectiveness was the suggestion that he wasn't as intelligent as he seemed. That and the look that the pirate had given him when those dark eyes had dropped uncomfortably low. He trembled slightly with what he hoped was pure hatred as he coldly spoke, "I sincerely hope you're not planning any form of escape. It wouldn't work."
Jack Sparrow’s face split into another feline grin as he sensed Norrington’s distress --- he had struck this time. "Not an escape, Jamie love. Like I said before, I’d much rather find some way to negotiate, or persuade you. " There was a small pause, then he continued. "It’s bloody cold in here, Jamie, and there’s nowhere to lay but a hard floor." He walked around the cell again, coming to a halt in front of the commodore and tapping the man’s hat up lightly. "You don’t think there’s anywhere less---" He looked around with an air of disdain " ---prison-like where we could go over this, do you?" The pirate captain crossed his arms across his chest and leaned back on his heels, jutting his sash-wrapped slender hips forward and waiting.
A fleeting expression of consternation crossed Norrington’s face. Was the pirate trying to…seduce him? James suppressed the twinge of errant exhilaration he felt at this, and buried it under a visage of contempt. "You continue to disregard my position as commodore. I demand more respect than I've been getting from you, Jack. As far as any negotiation is concerned...." He straightened his hat in a practical fashion. "I am not a fool, Sparrow. And I do not make deals with pirates."
"I told you already, once I am back to Captain, you can be the commodore." Jack bent forward and said, exactly as if it were some grand secret, "You can hold out as long as you want, Jamie, but you're going to have to face the fact that hanging me would be by far the stupidest thing you've ever done...even worse then letting Elizabeth slip past." He showed an expression of chagrin, but in truth the pirate had had every purpose of saying just that. "Sorry, love, forgot you didn't want to talk about that." With a hint of tenderness in his darkly buoyant and suggestive voice, Jack added: "There are some things you just need to learn to leave behind, Jamie."
"If you're trying to get to me, Sparrow, it isn't working."
James made this assertion knowing full well that both of them understood what he was really thinking. Truth was, the sultry and drunkenly elegant pirate was getting to him, in a way he hadn’t thought could be. The heat and need that was beginning to grow in the pit of his stomach unnerved Norrington, and he held his tongue and set his jaw in an attempt to cool his rampant body. There was a pause, a painful one for James and an intrigued, devious one for Jack. Finally the commodore spoke again; his voice tight and strained. "I suppose we'll discover who the stupid one is at the gallows tomorrow morning. Dawn, pirate." He spat this last word as though it singed his lips, eyes narrowing and jaw tensing.
And in response, Jack gave an enigmatic grin, a grin that clearly hid something behind those dark coffee eyes with their almost effeminate smoky kohl, and slyly, smoothly said, "I’m sure we will, Jamie." He ostensibly resigned himself to apparent failure and cast his body out on the stone floor with a strained grimace. "Hardly seems fair to make me spend my last night on the floor of a cell… and who’d want to be hanged with a stiff neck?" He looked up at Norrington, eyes glinting ever so slightly, almost imperceptibly. Then he stretched like a cat in the sun, even purring low and quietly, and shifted to put his hands behind his head. "Really, Jamie, this’s just cruel, love."
Norrington could hardly believe Jack’s brazenness, and refused to believe the response that deep purr elicited. "It's better than you deserve. I should put a sword through your gut." He leaned forward into the bars menacingly, images coming terrifyingly unbidden to his mind of what else he wanted so dearly to put through Jack Sparrow, then caught himself as he realized the two guards were staring wide-eyed at him. James adjusted his wig and continued. "But...patience is a virtue. Dawn, then. So be it." He turned to the guards. "Watch him carefully. Can you be trusted with this task?" They nodded obediently, like bewildered little boys. He turned back to Jack's gleaming smile. There was something so unsettling about it. Could he really leave Jack there overnight? He'd gotten away before....
Jack shifted again on the floor, then, frustrated, sprang to his feet, seeing his chance for one last attempt. "James! Jamie! Come on now; give a man a slight reprieve, won’t you? If I am to swing, then so be it, but don’t leave me in here all night. I’ll…behave, if that’s your worry. And I won’t pull any Houdini escape tricks on you. Just let me have some …dignity…or at least indignity on something more comfortable, savvy?" He actually winked at the last phrase, so quickly that James though he might have imagined it. But Norrington became sure it had been true as Jack stood at the bars, eyes almost frantic, and yet never losing their intriguing confidence.
James’s face pulled into a sly grin. "Well, Jack, when you put it that way, how can I refuse? I suppose your last night, the end of your ---infamous--- existence, should be a more lavish occasion than simply a cold night on the dirty stone floor." He unlocked the door and swung it open, then took Jack firmly by the elbow and led him out and towards the stairs, his grip unintentionally amplified due to his current state of tension. "This way, Sparrow."
Jack winced a bit as Norrington nearly crushed his elbow, but he tossed his head and followed happily. So far, so good, and it seemed, judging by the hand around his arm, that the commodore was responding even more strongly than he had at first shown. Even better. They continued through the fort, Jack trying to make small talk and James pointedly ignoring it, until the pair came to a halt outside a large oak door. As James opened the door, Jack peered inside and saw a richly brocaded blue overcoat hung on the back of a highbacked chair. "Yours?" He asked.
Norrington nodded and shut the door, walking over to the large four-poster in the middle of the room. "You will stay here, where I can make personally sure that you do not attempt an escape." He pulled a few of the many pillows off the bed and tossed them onto a heap on the floor as Jack stepped over to the cherrywood baseboard and leaned on one of the posts, pushing it a little as if testing its strength.
"You really don’t trust me, do you, Jamie?"
"No, Jack, I don’t."
The commodore pulled a blanket from the bottom of the wardrobe and added it to the pile at his feet. "Which is why you’ll be sleeping on the floor."
"Why, James, I’m insulted." Jack assumed the air of a scandalized southern belle as he began to approach Norrington. "Are you suggesting that I had some darker motive in wanting out of that cold, dark, drafty cell? Really, I ought to ---"
"Shut up, Sparrow," Norrington growled as, before he even knew what he was doing or could stop himself, he trapped the pirate’s dusky lips beneath his own.
Jack couldn’t help a small grin --- now this was more like it. He parted his lips to the crushing heat and was delighted to find James’ tongue touching tentatively to them. The commodore was clearly torn between a deep frantic lust and a nervous binding to propriety. So Sparrow offered reassurance to the poor trapped soul; he slid his own tongue softly over and past Norrington’s lips and began a languid exploration of his mouth.
The feel of the pirate’s tongue against his own, the burning, silky, rum-spiced balm that filled his mouth and yet somehow left him longing nearly drove James to desperation. He was attacked with a sudden need to crush, to grasp and take, but he found it impossible to move, to do anything other than submit to Jack’s maddeningly slow and decadent caresses. His mind was screaming to stop this all, just push the pirate away, hang him, hang him!
The voice cried in vain through thick, warm honey, muffled and dampened, till James suddenly felt a pressure along his back. At that moment a shot of clear, cold panic brought a gasp of relief from the all-too-willing abandonment, and Norrington’s eyes flashed open. He could tell now that Sparrow had him pressed against a bedpost, and his eyes widened in fear as he saw those golden hands move to work at the buttons of his shirt. No, no, no! the voice shrieked desperately, Too far! Still wrapped in the kiss, he put his own hands up against the pirate’s chest, tried to push him away, tried to protest, but just then Jack twisted his hips. Cheating!! The voice shrilled as it flew to the wind, and James’ cry of opposition slid into a shaky sigh that could not be excused as anything but assent.
Then his shirt had vanished, and he felt Jack’s hot hands and cool metal rings against his chest, covering his whole body in shocks and shivers. His skin prickled as those two tanned paradoxes moved out over his shoulders, crept down his arms, and before he knew it James found his wrists pinned firmly to the bedpost beneath Sparrow’s strong and unflinching fingers. He tried again to pull away, to fight, but yet again the pirate rolled blithely against him, and his volition was gone. Then, so were the blazing, soft lips that had been sealed to his for so long. He was appalled to hear a pleading whimper ply from his throat, and Jack’s darkly whispered answer to that sound both soothed and terrified him.
"Hush, love, they’re not going far."
Jack Sparrow bent his crimson-wound head and traced kisses all along James’ neck, his collarbone, winding down his chest. Terror rose in Norrington’s stomach, at least he thought it was terror, unless it was… He stopped thinking, then, when Jack’s molten tongue rasped against his breeches.
"…no…" he whimpered, but Sparrow was unheeding, and with his mouth he set to work diligently on the buttons, teeth and tongue finally, after what seemed a torturously long time, unfastening the white linen and taking their prize, along with a strangled sob from the commodore.
James convulsed, overwhelmed. He was repulsed, disgusted, but even so the waves of exquisite heat shook him to the core, and he clutched the post behind him, silently both cursing and blessing that pirate for assuring the steadfastness of it. He bit his lip, hard as he could, but still Sparrow, with his devilishly hot and tender tongue, pulled from him keening moans and tearing, shuddering gasps that he never thought he could make, and most certainly never thought he would. Especially not for a man, for a pirate, for Jack Sparrow, for god’s sake! With this final exclamation to himself, Norrington gained the resolution to tear away from the post and push the pirate off of him. It took all his strength, all his energy, but he did it, and when he finally did, he fell to the floor, shaking. And damned if that dark man wasn’t right there, arms around him, stroking his trembling shoulders. It infuriated the commodore to no end, but somehow it was… comforting. "Jack…" James murmured, "Please…don’t."
But the captain of the Black Pearl couldn’t give up now, not when he had been so close… he had set his mind on negotiating a way off of the gallows, and he was not about to let it fall through. Captain Jack Sparrow was nothing if not determined to elude death. So with deceptively soft touch, he laid James back and danced his fingers up and down the navyman’s surprisingly pale chest.
"Don’t do what, love? This?" and he raked his knuckles over James’ now bare hips, smiling slightly at the tremor it caused. "Or this?" and he walked his hands up the man’s thighs, barely missing the place where his mouth had caused so much delightful havoc a few minutes earlier. "Or this?" and--- James yelped as he felt Jack’s finger inside him, and he bit his tongue till the taste of blood ran over in his mouth. "Oh, it’s not as bad as all that, now, really. You over dramatize." Jack leaned up to gently and quickly lick the small trickle of red from the corner of James’ mouth, and with his invasive finger he brushed over that sensitive spot, sending a shockwave through the other man.
"… Jack…"
"Yes, Jamie?" the pirate asked amiably as he pressed firmly against that point, making an answer from the man beneath him quite impossible. James shuddered and arched his back, no longer able to think, or to maintain control over his own body. He was being betrayed, in the worst, most degrading way possible, and it was by his own self. But that barely crossed his mind as wave after wave of rushing pleasure crashed over him, damn that Sparrow, and where the hell did he learn all that, anyway? …And again Norrington’s spinning mind flew off the tracks as Jack added another finger, and the commodore fell limp.
"That’s right, love, just relax…" Vaguely, behind and beneath the blood pounding in his ears, James could hear these whispered words and the rustling of fabric, then in a warm haze he felt his legs raised up, and the tormenting fingers slide out, to be replaced by ---James swallowed hard, utterly terrified, infuriated, and opened his mouth to cry out, but immediately a half-gloved hand clamped down on it.
"Much as I’d love to hear you scream for me, James, we just can’t afford that liability, savvy?" Norrington glared up at the pirate, sparks of ice shooting fiercely from his narrowed steel blue eyes. If looks could kill, Sparrow never would have been born. Then that bloody pirate pressed in, and the commodore’s furious eyes shut tight. James swore he was being torn in a thousand pieces, from the inside out, all with white-hot daggers. He bit, hard, on the hand over his mouth, but Jack was unfazed, and calmly reminded him "I told you, love, relax" as he began to rock back and forth, in and out, above James, whose whole world exploded, imploded, and held steady, all at the same time. Jack’s hand muffled his moans and cries, but still James knew he was begging, like a common whore, and he hated himself for it, and for … liking it ---more than liking it, actually. In fact, he was all too relieved when Jack asked, "Can you take it a bit harder, love?" and began to quicken the pace, with longer, deeper, harder thrusts that left James shuddering and sobbing.
Jack thought the commodore was far too pretty like this, in complete abandon, steel eyes half-shut, lips parted, mahogany hair swirling around his flushed face, pale chest shining with sweat. He wanted to keep this sight forever, but felt both James and himself reaching the end, so he wrapped a hand around the commodore’s member and pressed home, and it was with some pride that he noticed that just as he exploded deep inside James, the navyman shook and shouted and fell back under a shower of white.
They stayed there for a moment, until Jack felt Norrington stir beneath him, and he slipped out and laid beside him, pulling over the blanket that James had cast there earlier. He brushed a damp strand of hair from James’ forehead, then put his arm around him. The commodore stayed perfectly still, afraid that if he moved something horrible would happen. He wanted Jack to think he was asleep, and luckily the pirate came to this conclusion. After a few moments listening to Sparrow’s steady breathing, James muttered, part to himself, part to Jack, and part to whatever god or higher power might still listen to him, "Captain Jack Sparrow, what have you done to me?"
And from somewhere in that place between dreams and waking, Jack murmured, "Can’t hang me now, Commodore James Norrington." Within moments he was sound asleep.
* * * * * * *
End Part One:
Hook, Line and Sinker