The Challenge: Chapter 4
Title: The Challenge
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean; Sparrington
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I have no claim on POTC or the lovely characters who populate it, even if it seems that James Norrington has, somewhat disconcertingly, made himself quite at home in my head with no apparent plans to leave. Jack Sparrow has been dropping by at random for years, as well, which surely doesn’t help matters.
Summary: Challenge resolved.
Warnings: See rating. Also, I apologize in advance for how little proofreading I did on this one.
Three Months Post-Challenge
A parry, a riposte, a side-step and then a daring new offensive.
“You do realize, of course, that he will not back down,” Will said. His breath was a bit ragged, from the fencing, which did not so much as pause.
James was surprisingly quick on his feet, for a man of his age and stature; that, paired with his years of experience and his sheer skill made him a more than challenging opponent for the younger man. “I am well aware.”
“Commodore, you are letting him play games with you.” Will was chagrinned to realize that James’ offensive was pushing him slowly backwards. He cursed under his breath, struggling not to look away from James’ face and not to show any signs of weakness.
“Better to be lured into a game than lured into a war, from which one of us would not emerge alive; possibly, neither of us would.” James’ breathing was also labored, but his words were calm and his intense focus did not waver.
“Point made,” Will assented. “It just does not...fit with my previous perceptions of you.” He struggled to parry James’ next blow, and made a low noise of startled surprise when Norrington’s free hand seized a nearby leather apron, flinging it into Will’s face before the younger man could dodge. In the moment that his vision was hindered, Will faltered. Two seconds later he found himself flat on his back and disarmed with the tip of James Norrington’s blade hovering near his throat.
“Neither, I suspect, does this form of attack,” James mused. “There is much that you do not know about me, Mr. Turner.” He did not actually sound offended, and indeed offered a half-smirk as he lifted his blade away from his opponent’s neck.
Will gaped. “You...that was very nearly piratical.”
“Do you know the only real difference between a sailor of the British Royal Navy and a pirate, William?”
“Apparently not. What is it?”
“Government. Nothing more.” He offered Will a hand.
The blacksmith took it, allowing the commodore to pull him to his feet. “Government?”
“A government exists to unify people into a nation or an empire, and it does so through law and the means of enforcing it. As a naval officer, the actual tasks I have carried out as a sailor and a soldier have been little different than those carried out by the pirates I hunted. It is only in the sense of purpose and style that we significantly differ. A pirate attacks another vessel, merchant or military, for the sake of his own survival, and nothing more; it is self-serving, and thus selfish. My purpose has always been to serve government, by enforcing the law as I see fit.”
“‘As you see fit,’” Will repeated, disbelief in his voice.
“The law and propriety both hold that a pirate is a pirate, nothing more, and should be destroyed. I do not see fit to do so in this case, because I happen to know that a pirate can also be a surprisingly perceptive and practical creature not made up of pure evil and criminal malice.” James pulled a cloth from the inner breast pocket of his waistcoat, wiped his blade with care, and sheathed it. “As I am sure you understand.”
“Yes. I am simply surprised that you do, all things considered.”
James smiled very faintly. “We do what we must, when we believe that it is our only option. To regret is foolish, but I do make a point of learning from my mistakes and taking care not to repeat them.”
“You believe, then, that you were mistaken in trying to hang Jack Sparrow?”
“I believe that I was mistaken for not earlier allowing him some earlier opportunity to escape, or otherwise showing or voicing the fact that I knew he did not deserve the gallows any more than you or I do.” He raised his eyebrows at Will pointedly. “It was not my judgement to make, however, and even if it had been--I did not then have quite such a clear perception of the whole situation.”
After a long pause, Will nodded. “I understand.”
“Thank you.”
Concealed in the rafters overhead, having snuck into the smithy before Will and the commodore had arrived over an hour ago, both of them fresh from lunch with the governor, Jack watched the two former rivals with interest. Mostly he watched James, who was sans-wig and sans-coat for sparring purposes, looking tousled and glowing and magnificently predatory. Seeing the commodore fence had been more than a little interesting; it had made Jack want to interrupt, and test the taller man’s skills himself, in both fencing and...other matters.
James was a skilled swordsman: tricky, unpredictable, fierce and yet precise--much like the commodore’s use of language.
From experience, Jack knew that such a talented fighter, in both verbal and physical fencing, could often be just as amazing to experience in bed as he was to watch in battle, if not more. He was eager to find out if this would hold true with James.
Once the commodore at last made his exit, Jack leapt deftly from the rafters, scaring the bejeesus out of Will Turner, who cursed loudly and then hissed, “Jack, What the Hell are you doing here?”
“Visiting, mate. Seems I dropped by at a rather opportune moment.” His gold-edged grin was blatantly self-satisfied.
“Spying. Of course.” Will pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger in a gesture of exasperation. Then he looked up sharply and glared at the pirate. “At least I can cut straight to the chase, then, and ask what on earth it is that you think you are playing at with the commodore.”
“Just the usual, whelp: I am following my piratical nature and going after what I want.” He eyed the door through which James had exited.
“Could you get more vague?”
“Aye, if I put an effort into it.”
Will sighed. “I suppose you’re waiting here until nightfall, at which point you plan on trying to once more confront the commodore?”
“Good lad. I’d also like to have a chat with Elizabeth about the whole matter, if you’d be so kind as to arrange it. In the meantime, where’s Mr. Brown taken to hiding his stash, these days?”
“Is there no way I can persuade you to avoid Norrington?”
“Not in the least.” Jack was shuffling things about now, seeking alcohol.
“Not even if I offered rum?”
A thoughtful pause, shorter than Will might have expected, then: “No.”
Will’s brow furrowed. “What is it, exactly, that you want from him?”
Jack glanced over his shoulder at him for a moment. Seeing only earnest confusion on the poor boy’s face, Jack chuckled under his breath. “Naught that you need worry about, lad. We can take care of ourselves, James an’ I.”
Hearing Norrington’s given name from Jack of all people left Will a little bit perturbed. In a voice that expressed the totality of his confusion, Will replied tentatively, “Mayhap so.”
“Elizabeth, love, how-”
Smack!
Jack cursed under his breath as he twisted his head back into a more normal, comfortable position. His neck gave a couple of pops in protest. Rubbing the stinging red imprint left on his face and glaring at the woman responsible for it, Jack demanded, “And what was that for? Did you have to use the bloody fan?”
“That was for being so foolish as to try and threaten the commodore.” Elizabeth fanned herself demurely, but the glare she aimed at Jack was fiery. “He’s had enough problems without your help; however, that being said, I suppose that I should also thank you for giving him the impetus to get out of the rut he’s been in.” She frowned at him for good measure even so.
“About that, love-”
“First of all, if you attempt to kidnap him, I will see to your hanging myself, Jack,” she warned. “He responded to your deranged challenge and succeeded in defeating it, so you have no excuse to trouble him further. He has disentangled himself from my father’s influence, and all others who might give him orders are too far away to actually control him. He is the law, now, here in Jamaica, and it is my personal opinion that you are posess an incredible degree of luck if only because he did not see fit to chase you whilst he had access to his eldest brother’s resources last month. Between the two of them, Jack, you could have been caught within a fortnight.”
“That sharp, are they?”
“Quite.” Elizabeth raised her chin defiantly. “Any you’ll have noticed the two new ships in the harbor.”
Jack nodded. “A couple of swift little war-sloops. Still not quite so swift as the Pearl...”
“It would not have been just speed in which you would have competed with them, Jack; there would have also been the matter of brains, of strategy.” She looked away. “The pair of them are quite disconcertingly keen, actually. Will said that watching them banter was akin to seeing James put his head into a lion’s mouth, which I would consider an apt comparison.”
“He got his head bitten off?”
“No. That was the disconcerting part. His brother has a measure of genius and enthusiasm that unnerves people, but the ease with which James handles his brother is a little frightening, all things considered.”
“Ah.”
“And I’ve personally taught him what he calls ‘bullfighting’ but which I will insist on calling ‘manipulating my father as needed.’” She looked at Jack closely, trying to make sense of the masked expression Jack seemed to be sporting. “He can handle himself, Jack. I’ve no idea why it’s of such interest to you...” She raised her eyebrows in a silent question.
“Know thy enemy, love. Unfortunately, as I got to know this one, I was disconcerted to realize that I rather like him.” He looked away, adjusting a few of his numerous rings. “Decided that, all things taken into account, I owed him a good turn. I don’t like bein’ indebted to anybody; you know that.”
“Yes, but it is clear to me that there is something else here that you want, for all that I cannot work out what it is,” Elizabeth countered. “What are you after, Jack?”
“Whatever I c’n take, love. It’s a game, here, not a war.” He shot her look, making it silently clear that she would get no more out of him.
“Does he know that?”
Jack smirked. “So it’d seem.”
James, seated at his desk, did not even look up from his reading when he heard Jack Sparrow climb over the windowsill. He did offer a droll greeting: “You are nearly a week early, Captain Sparrow.”
Seeing that the commodore had not spared him a glance, Jack frowned. Then he realized that James seemed to be wearing naught more than a light robe without, if he was not mistaken, the usual dressing gown underneath; the pirate found this heartening.
James then ruined it by pulling a pistol from his desk drawer. Still without looking up at Jack, he cocked the gun and set it down in front of him: a warning.
“I’d rather hoped us beyond that point,” Jack lamented, sounding irritated.
“You notice I’m not pointing it at you this time.” James found a stopping point, put his bookmark in place, and closed the book. He then pushed away from his desk at an angle, so that he pivoted the chair until he faced Jack, finally looking at him. Reading wariness, curiosity and shrewdness in the pirate’s expression, James said, “I take it you received my letter, and have spoken with Elizabeth.”
“Aye.”
“Do you feel that you have sufficient verification of my freedom and my ability to maintain it?” His expression was carefully masked, even as Jack stalked closer.
“To my surprise: yes.” Jack came to a halt within arm’s reach of the calm green-eyed man. “Now what, I wonder, will you do with it?”
“Still, you underestimate me.”
“Do I?” Jack glanced pointedly at the pistol near James’ hand.
“Quite.” James lifted the pistol, pointing it harmlessly at the wall and pulling the trigger. It clicked harmlessly: not loaded. He set it aside casually. Jack looked torn between relieve and irritation; James only smirked in response, but then once more donned his usual air of calm. “I have met your challenge, Jack. Why, then, are you here?” he challenged, with an air of mockery.
“Thought I made that clear before.” He looked toward James’ bed, then met James’ gaze again and raised his eyebrows.
“You would risk incarceration for a chance to share my bed.” The commodore remained completely inscrutable, to Jack’s increasing consternation.
“I’m a pirate, James. And as a fellow man of the sea, you know that every day spent out upon her is a risk, but always worth it, is it not?” Jack took yet another step closer, resting a hand on the edge of James’ desk and leaning into the man’s personal space. “I want you. You’re dangerous to my ilk, and I know that. You also bend laws for your own principles as often as I bend the limits of the pirate code for the sake of my own, and I find that to be most interesting. Makes me wonder often about just how bendy you are in other areas.” His fingers traced along the collar of James’ robe, down, down, down to where a single knot in the belt held the whole garment shut.
James maintained his restraint admirably. It had been far too long since he had been touched like this, and the fact that Jack Sparrow happened to be a keenly intelligent man with a wicked smile on a devilishly handsome face unsuccessfully hidden by piratical beard and mustache--well, it certainly did not help matters, nor did remembering what Jack’s mouth had tasted and felt like.
With difficulty, James reminded himself to be wary. This pirate was as intelligent as he was distracting, if not more, and as an opponent, that made tricks and traps more than likely. “Why,” he finally inquired, in a low, too-sincere and want-laced voice, “do you want me, Jack Sparrow? I will not be manipulated for the sake of your criminal affairs.”
Ah, at last, the crux of the matter, Jack mused to himself. “As I recall, anything I say aloud is suspect, James.”
James’ eyes fell shut for a moment as he cursed mentally. “When you are dealing with me, is it not the same?”
“Not now. Not when you’ve been so candid thusfar. Then again, so have I, if you’ll deign to believe it.”
Opening his eyes again, James scrutinized Jack’s expression for any trace of dishonesty, but found none; the pirate’s usual swaying and swaggering had become drastically minimized and there was an almost grim look on his face. “Mayhap I do,” James said quietly.
Jack leaned in closer, hardly aware of the way his hand clutched at a handful of fabric from the front of James’ robe-collar. “Then mayhap I want you for no reason other than what kind of man you are.” For a moment, he hesitated, feeling too exposed, and started to pull away, but James stopped him by reaching out and grabbing hold of his coat’s lapels with one hand; there was a look of mixed curiosity, confusion and near-concern on the commodore’s face. Jack couldn’t look away, so he composed himself, putting on a steely glare. “What about you, then, mate? You’ve not any such fine reasons to want me.”
Having had the time to think it over, James knew his reasons. He had simply not expected to have to say them aloud, and struggled for a moment. “Spices,” he said finally. “In my life, every time our paths have crossed, it has been like encountering an exotic spice: occasionally too bitter or painful like a too-hot pepper, but always rich in ways that I have never encountered anywhere else.” He swallowed thickly. “You even taste like spices, of a sort worth more than their weight in gold; although you taste slightly of gold as well.”
Eyes wide in shock, Jack asked, in a quiet, mystified voice, “How do you do that?” He leaned in closer his eyes narrowed in consternation. “Every damned time. You surprise me every time I challenge you.”
“That is just the kind of man I am, Jack Sparrow. I cannot be taken into your crew as a sort of pet, I cannot be tempted into betraying my honor or my principles, and in Jamaica I am the chief enforcer of the laws that you so regularly break.” There was a challenge behind the words: Are you at all sure that you want to risk your life like this?
“Aye, that I do: I lawbreak, I mislead, I commit theft and I cause your navy no end of trouble when you try to hunt me down.” Slowly, Jack leaned in further, until his nose nearly touched the commodore’s. “And I’ll bet that ’m the only intellect in these waters that really keeps you on your toes.”
James’ eyelids lowered to half-mast. “True.” He tilted his head just a fraction and closed the distance between them, capturing Jack’s mouth in a kiss: a near-perfect mimic of the one Jack had bestowed before. Jack’s lips, parted with the intent to speak, fell prey to James, whose tongue delved between them, sliding into Jack’s mouth for a taste and feeling the instinctively eager and hungry way Jack responded.
After a too-brief moment, James pulled away. “Correction: you taste like rum, gold and spices. How apt.”
Jack made a low, incoherent growling noise and pressed in closer to the commodore until he straddled James’ lap. “Damned tease,” he bit out, his hands wandering down James’ chest.
James marveled that they both fit, perched here on his (thankfully armless) desk chair. “This from the man who mailed me a linen bedsheet.” His voice was less smooth now, rough-edged with his increasingly uneven breaths. His eyes fell shut when Jack’s mouth latched onto the side of his neck and began doing truly marvelous things. “This is reckless to the extreme,” he said quietly, without much conviction. “We could both be hanged for this.”
“Not ‘nless you didn’t want us to, mate. You are the law in these parts,” Jack murmured, and shrugged off his coat, catching it with one hand before it fell to the floor and draping it across James’ desk.
“If we are caught, that will no longer be the case.” James’ fingers found their way to Jack’s belts, and began unbuckling them deftly. They, too, were set aside on the desk, along with Jack’s waistcoat and red bandana.
Jack made a low noise in his throat almost like a purr as James’ fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer. “Ye don’t seem too bothered.”
“I would be a sorry excuse for a sailor if I did not understand danger’s appeal.” He nipped at Jack’s lower lip, then ran the tip of his tongue across it. “But for all that it is an appealing spice, too much can be lethal, and I am still not at all sure if I am letting greed put me in too much danger. I am not, however, worried enough to stop.”
“Thank God,” Jack groaned, struggling to unlace his breeches as James’ fingers in his hair urged him to tilt back his head. Jack obliged, and was rewarded by James gently devouring his bared throat, trailing from the hollow between Jack’s collarbones up to the edge of his bearded jaw. Jack almost forgot what he was doing for a moment, but then sped up his actions considerably until at last his breeches loosened around his hips and across his groin, making the pirate hiss in relief.
James’ hands shifted, one of them cradling the nape of Jack’s neck, the other trailing downward along Jack’s body: neck, shoulder, pectoral, ribcage, and belly. Then those long, clever, and surprisingly rough fingers slid beneath the fabric of Jack’s breeches and wrapped around Jack’s cock.
Jack’s own hands had parted the front of James’ robe to the waist, and delved under it to grasp the commodore’s hips for support as Jack bucked into the exploratory caress of that commodorial hand. Breathlessly, the pirate observed, “You’ve more’n a little idea what you’re doin’, here.”
With an audible smirk in his voice, James countered, “Navy.” For emphasis, he stroked Jack again, so that the pirate gave a groan of protest when James’ hand retreated to tug at his shirt.
“James,” Jack warned.
“You’ve seen me nude in the sheets, Jack.”
“You’re prettier,” Jack protested. “Hardly a mark on you.”
James snorted, and guided one of Jack’s hands to a knotty cutlass scar, marring the pale flesh of his left side. He watched Jack’s eyes widen with satisfaction. “I’ve earned my share of marks.”
“Don’t recall seeing that...”
“You were, I believe, distracted by the sheet, and you were on my right side,” James teased. Again, he tugged at Jack’s shirt.
This time, the pirate obliged, lifting his arms and letting James pull off his shirt. He braced himself for surprise, pity, even disgust, but received none.
James took in the sight of him and then met Jack’s gaze with lust-darkened eyes. “Bed?” he inquired, his hands stroking up and down Jack’s sides as he lowered his head to press a kiss between the two black marks on Jack’s chest.
Jack nodded sharply. “Aye. Bed.” A momentary pause as he watched James’ tongue flick out to taste the darkened skin. “Where is the bed, anyway?” He turned his head to look for it. Thus distracted, he gave a low yelp of surprise when James’ hands firmly cupped his behind and held him supported as James abruptly stood up.
Amused, James slowly let Jack’s body slide down his until the pirate’s feet touched the ground.
“Cocky bastard,” Jack growled, and, walking backwards, pulled James toward the bed by the collar of his robe.
Following more than willingly, James rested his hands on Jack’s hips. “You should talk.” He then tripped Jack up so that the pirate sprawled backward onto the bed. James took this opportunity to remove Jack’s boots with a few sharp tugs.
Jack then pulled him down and flipped him onto his back, promptly straddling him. “We’ll see about that, love.” His fingers at last unbelted James’ robe and pushed it open until the commodore spread out beneath him was fully exposed, with robe falling off his shoulders seductively. Jack admired the sight, even as he observed, to his surprise, more than a few battle-scars on James than he had noticed before. The man even had a tattoo on the outside of his hip: a sea hawk with a banner in its talons that bore the words: Semper Fi. And James was, Jack noted, clearly deserving of being called ‘cocky.’
Feeling heat rise to his face under the pirate’s scrutiny, James watched Jack’s expression carefully, and felt his breath hitch when Jack met his gaze again with such open, lustful heat. With a low, guttural noise in his throat, James pulled him into another kiss, forceful and scorching this time; it was unrelenting and taunting as James’ sarcasm, but also languid and irresistibly persuasive to a man with the sea in his blood, each smooth undulation of James’ tongue drawing Jack into matching him fire for fire. Whether it was more like a duel or a dance, Jack could not decide, and not just because did not have enough remaining brainpower to give it much thought.
All Jack knew was that he was very dizzy when James’ mouth broke away; although he did wonder how exactly James had managed to remove his robe and swap their positions, his body now pushing Jack’s into the mattress, hands pulling Jack’s trousers down and off of his hips. Jack obligingly kicked the interfering clothing away and shivered appreciatively at the feel of the commodore’s long legs tangling with his own. He angled his hips up and languidly thrust, his cock pressing and rubbing against James’, earning a breathless gasp from the commodore, who then ground his hips in counterpoint. Jack moaned and thrust again, hoping for a repeat performance and cursing appreciatively when he received it.
They soon found a rhythm, to which each man added an occasional random variation, to their mutual pleasure. One of Jack’s hands between them kept them aligned, his other busy exploring James’ skin, tracing scars with especial fascination. James held himself up on one elbow, his free hand gripping wherever he could for the best leverage: first at the bed frame, then Jack’s hip, and then Jack’s thigh when the pirate draped a leg over James’ hip.
James felt himself getting close and sped up his pace, his breath growing more ragged. He reached down to wrap his hand around Jack’s, tightening the pirate’s grip around both of their cocks, earning a low, desperate keen from Jack. The lithe brown leg draped over James’ hip pulled him in closer. As he came, James buried his face in Jack’s hair and bit down where the pirate’s neck and shoulder met, sheer stubbornness allowing him enough restraint not to bruise.
Feeling the pulse of wetness and heat against him, Jack arched up his hips helplessly, his eyes rolling back as James’ hand tightened around his further, still guiding each stroke, the slickness and warmth of James’ release adding to the sensation and making the air reek even further of sex and the sea. Jack’s orgasm followed soon after James’: a final, hard thrust as he clutched at James with all of his limbs, and then a shuddering release that left him boneless and satiated. He whimpered when James’ hand relaxed its hold and moved away, even as Jack’s own fell to rest limply on the bed beside him. Jack felt marvelously weary and immobile, and the feel of James’ body lingering on top of him was quite fine, too, since the commodore had the sense to rest most of his weight on his elbows instead of his lover.
Slowly, James relaxed his jaw and removed his teeth from Jack’s skin. He licked at the toothmarks apologetically and felt the pirate shiver. James knew that he should pull away, but he found himself completely lacking the energy to do so; instead, he rested his forehead against Jack’s neck and tried to catch his breath.
They lingered there for several minutes, breathing each other in and recovering what was left of their wits.
“I knew this was a good idea,” Jack finally muttered.
James gave an amused snort. “You are utterly incorrigible.”
“Aye, and a good thing I am, ay?” Jack squeezed one of James’ buttocks for emphasis. “Else we’d not be here.”
“I was not complaining.” James lifted his head enough to meet Jack’s gaze, but the pirate seemed content to keep his eyes closed. Briefly, James considered smearing the kohl, but Jack interrupted his thoughts.
“Ten minutes.”
“Hm?”
“Ten minutes, and I’ll be up for another go.”
James’ eyebrows raised, but his lips quirked with an amused smirk. “Shameless hussy.”
Jack opened his eyes then and frowned at him. “That’s hardly kind.”
James chuckled, and dropped an apologetic kiss first onto the bite-mark he’d left. “My apologies.” Then another kiss on Jack’s collarbone. “But you are.” A few more in a trail down to Jack’s sternum. “Shamelessly depraved.” He licked one of Jack’s nipples, making the pirate hiss softly. “And wanton.” He paused with a truly evil little smirk. “Again: I am not actually complaining.”
“Good thing, love, because you’re hardly chaste yerself,” Jack muttered, his voice a little strained. “Maybe only five minutes, then.”
Giving only a thoughtful hum in reply, James began the trail of kisses again, this time moving lower very slowly, from Jack’s nipple down.
“Or three...three at the least, and that i’sself is miraculous for a man my age.”
James continued, trailing down and still further down, occasionally alternating kisses for licks or gentle bites, and making a few detours to map a couple interesting scars and one tattoo along the way.
It took him approximately three and a half excruciating minutes for James to reach Jack’s cock, by which point Jack was more than ready for another round, and more than a little shocked when James’ mouth engulfed the full length of him without hesitation.
“Don’t tell me that---Ahhhh---don’t tell me you learned this in the navy, love, or I might be tempted to join.”
James laughed low in his throat, and the resultant vibrations caused Jack’s eyes to roll back in his head. The pirate cursed him in three languages. Then James sucked hard, and Jack lost the ability to form words altogether; he could only struggle to thrust against where James’ hands pinned his hips to the bed as the commodore’s hot mouth bobbed up and down his length, tortuously slow. James played him expertly: talented tongue flicking across the head now and then, and one clever hand toying with Jack’s balls, as James slowly sped up the pace.
Jack found himself unable to last, not with those sea-green eyes watching him and that mouth doing such unexpectedly marvelous things. “James, love, I can’t-” he cut off, his head falling back as James’ tongue darted under his foreskin on the next up-stroke. His hips bucked involuntarily, and this time James let them, letting the pirate thrust deep with no resistance, and when Jack came, James swallowed around him, making him gasp.
Breathing hard, Jack forced himself to lift his head again and meet James’ gaze.
The commodore licked his lips in an absent-minded fashion. “Are you yet done underestimating me?”
“Not if these are the rewards, I’m not,” Jack countered, still panting. Then he gave a teasing, challenging grin. “Perhaps I should suppose you’ve never buggered anyone, an’ see how good you are at that, too.”
James’ eyebrows raised a little and he blushed very slightly. “I have not.”
Jack’s dark eyes fairly glowed with interest. “Really? Never been buggered, neither, I take it.”
James cleared his throat. “No, I’ve not.”
Jack licked his lips and beckoned James closer with a ‘come hither’ hand gesture. “Have you got any oil handy?”
Looking determinedly unembarrassed, James shook his head.
“Bring my coat, then.”
Reluctantly, James pulled away and obeyed.
Watching the way that the taller man’s long, lean body moved, Jack felt a tremor of anticipation run through him. He did not bother grabbing his coat when James offered it; he merely dipped a hand into a pocket and plucked out the vial he wanted, holding it up with a grin.
James raised an eyebrow and hung the coat up on the nearest bedpost, watching as Jack scooted to the edge of the bed. When the pirate beckoned again, James obeyed, stepping closer until he stood between Jack’s knees. “I...would rather not hurt you,” he said quietly.
Jack’s eyebrows raised a little at the comment. Then he pressed a brief kiss to James’ lips. “Glad to hear it, love.” He wrapped his legs around James’ waist as he poured some almond oil into his palm. “Because pain is not the goal, here.”
The commodore opened his mouth to protest further, but instead gave a low groan as Jack’s oil-slicked hand took hold of him, stroking him slowly and oiling him up quite thoroughly. “God...Jack.”
“There’s a good love,” Jack purred, pressing closer and lifting his legs higher as he guided the tip of James’ cock to his puckered entrance. “Nice an’ easy, now.”
“Jack, I-”
“Do it, James.”
Surprised by the command, and the hint of desperation behind it, James obeyed, slowly pushing into Jack’s body. He moaned, struggling against the sudden urge to thrust in all at once, hard and fast. Jack’s lithe body was hot and tight around him as he pushed past the first ring of muscle and slid in deeper. He felt Jack stiffen and hiss in what sounded like pain. “Jack, if you-”
“Don’t you dare stop!” That definitely sounded like desperation. Jack was half-mad with the mixed pain and pleasure; it had been far too long since he’d let any man have him, and James was a quite well-endowed lover. The burn was intense, but so was the need to have James deeper inside him.
“I hardly know if I could,” James breathed, as he felt Jack deliberately relaxing his muscles, welcoming him. He pressed in to the hilt and stopped, shuddering with the need to move, but resisting it as he looked down at Jack’s face. “Are you alright?”
“Just a minute, love; you’re a gifted man, and it’s been a while.” His legs tightened their grip. “But my God, you feel good.”
James swallowed tightly, and waited for what seemed an eternity, but was in fact half a minute. Then Jack arched against him, and pleaded, “Move, love.” When the commodore hesitated, Jack added, “Fuck me. Please.”
Irresistibly, James obliged, pulling back and thrusting back in as gently as he could, but growing less and less gentle with every successive thrust as his restraint cracked further and further, and then finally shattered. For his part, Jack could only encourage this, when he felt at all capable of speech, which was not very often at this point, with James’ hands gripping hard at his hips and James’ cock pushing into him over and over again. He had forgotten how this felt: this abandon, the sensation of being taken and used, and knowing he had caused the man inside him to lose control entirely, all while the sheer physical pleasure threatened to erase Jack’s mind.
Jack didn’t even realize he was the one making that low, pleading noise until it stopped as James’ hand wrapped around his cock and began stroking him, hard and fast and disjointed, but just what he needed. Jack cried out, clutching the commodore tight as the wave of pleasure crested, then whimpering with the small aftershocks that each successive thrust sent through him, until James found his own release shortly after.
One arm wrapped around the pirate’s waist to keep him close, James buried his face in Jack’s hair (careful to avoid the pointier baubles and decorations) as he caught his breath. “My God,” he said finally, his voice low and amazed.
“Aye.” Jack rested his head against the crook of James’ neck, panting hard.
“You aren’t hurt?”
“No. Might be sore tomorrow, but ‘s bloody well worth it after that.”
James smiled in a smug manner despite himself, glad that the expression was hidden, for now. “That was...” He searched for words, and failed to find them.
“Superlatively good.”
“Yes.”
Jack chuckled breathlessly. “‘Course, love. ‘M Captain Jack Sparrow.”
James laughed helplessly. “As though I could possibly forget,” he mocked, then used the last of his energy to move them both to rest more comfortably on the bed, still not relaxing his hold on Jack’s waist.
Jack stretched luxuriantly. “Mind if I sleep here a while?”
“When do you plan on leaving?” James’ voice was neutral, perhaps with the vaguest hint of playfulness.
“‘Fore dawn, back to Will’s smithy to assure the whelp we’re both alive.”
James hummed thoughtfully. “And then?”
“I can be in town a few days. After that, messages passed via the whelps can keep us appraised of each other’s whereabouts now and then, should you be keen on our meetin’ again.” Jack met his gaze evenly, keeping his expression cool and composed.
“And if I should?” James’ expression was, by contrast, unmasked: showing satiation and interest, and a hint of something that looked suspiciously like affection.
“Then we’d have to have a sort of accord, wouldn’t we? ‘No trying to kill each other, or destroy each other’s livelihoods’ et cetera.”
“Hmm.” James tilted his head a bit to one side. “I would like that, I believe.”
“Would you now?” Jack’s voice was low, his expression growing warmer.
“Aye, Captain.” He sat up a little and leaned close until the side of his nose brushed Jack’s. “Do we have an accord?” he inquired, his breath warm against Jack’s lips.
“Aye, Commodore. Seems we do.” He pressed his lips against James’ in a brief, almost tender kiss. “A good note to end on, ay? B‘fore sleep, that is.”
“Indeed.” James pulled the bedsheet over them and settled down to sleep, still half-tangled up with the pirate.
“James?”
“Hm?”
“This sheet...”
“Yes?”
“Is it the one I sent?”
A low chuckle. “Yes, Jack.”
A moment of awed silence. “You sneaky bastard. You had me on my own sheet.”
“Goodnight, Jack.”
Previous || Story Index || Next
Fandom: Pirates of the Caribbean; Sparrington
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: I have no claim on POTC or the lovely characters who populate it, even if it seems that James Norrington has, somewhat disconcertingly, made himself quite at home in my head with no apparent plans to leave. Jack Sparrow has been dropping by at random for years, as well, which surely doesn’t help matters.
Summary: Challenge resolved.
Warnings: See rating. Also, I apologize in advance for how little proofreading I did on this one.
Three Months Post-Challenge
A parry, a riposte, a side-step and then a daring new offensive.
“You do realize, of course, that he will not back down,” Will said. His breath was a bit ragged, from the fencing, which did not so much as pause.
James was surprisingly quick on his feet, for a man of his age and stature; that, paired with his years of experience and his sheer skill made him a more than challenging opponent for the younger man. “I am well aware.”
“Commodore, you are letting him play games with you.” Will was chagrinned to realize that James’ offensive was pushing him slowly backwards. He cursed under his breath, struggling not to look away from James’ face and not to show any signs of weakness.
“Better to be lured into a game than lured into a war, from which one of us would not emerge alive; possibly, neither of us would.” James’ breathing was also labored, but his words were calm and his intense focus did not waver.
“Point made,” Will assented. “It just does not...fit with my previous perceptions of you.” He struggled to parry James’ next blow, and made a low noise of startled surprise when Norrington’s free hand seized a nearby leather apron, flinging it into Will’s face before the younger man could dodge. In the moment that his vision was hindered, Will faltered. Two seconds later he found himself flat on his back and disarmed with the tip of James Norrington’s blade hovering near his throat.
“Neither, I suspect, does this form of attack,” James mused. “There is much that you do not know about me, Mr. Turner.” He did not actually sound offended, and indeed offered a half-smirk as he lifted his blade away from his opponent’s neck.
Will gaped. “You...that was very nearly piratical.”
“Do you know the only real difference between a sailor of the British Royal Navy and a pirate, William?”
“Apparently not. What is it?”
“Government. Nothing more.” He offered Will a hand.
The blacksmith took it, allowing the commodore to pull him to his feet. “Government?”
“A government exists to unify people into a nation or an empire, and it does so through law and the means of enforcing it. As a naval officer, the actual tasks I have carried out as a sailor and a soldier have been little different than those carried out by the pirates I hunted. It is only in the sense of purpose and style that we significantly differ. A pirate attacks another vessel, merchant or military, for the sake of his own survival, and nothing more; it is self-serving, and thus selfish. My purpose has always been to serve government, by enforcing the law as I see fit.”
“‘As you see fit,’” Will repeated, disbelief in his voice.
“The law and propriety both hold that a pirate is a pirate, nothing more, and should be destroyed. I do not see fit to do so in this case, because I happen to know that a pirate can also be a surprisingly perceptive and practical creature not made up of pure evil and criminal malice.” James pulled a cloth from the inner breast pocket of his waistcoat, wiped his blade with care, and sheathed it. “As I am sure you understand.”
“Yes. I am simply surprised that you do, all things considered.”
James smiled very faintly. “We do what we must, when we believe that it is our only option. To regret is foolish, but I do make a point of learning from my mistakes and taking care not to repeat them.”
“You believe, then, that you were mistaken in trying to hang Jack Sparrow?”
“I believe that I was mistaken for not earlier allowing him some earlier opportunity to escape, or otherwise showing or voicing the fact that I knew he did not deserve the gallows any more than you or I do.” He raised his eyebrows at Will pointedly. “It was not my judgement to make, however, and even if it had been--I did not then have quite such a clear perception of the whole situation.”
After a long pause, Will nodded. “I understand.”
“Thank you.”
Concealed in the rafters overhead, having snuck into the smithy before Will and the commodore had arrived over an hour ago, both of them fresh from lunch with the governor, Jack watched the two former rivals with interest. Mostly he watched James, who was sans-wig and sans-coat for sparring purposes, looking tousled and glowing and magnificently predatory. Seeing the commodore fence had been more than a little interesting; it had made Jack want to interrupt, and test the taller man’s skills himself, in both fencing and...other matters.
James was a skilled swordsman: tricky, unpredictable, fierce and yet precise--much like the commodore’s use of language.
From experience, Jack knew that such a talented fighter, in both verbal and physical fencing, could often be just as amazing to experience in bed as he was to watch in battle, if not more. He was eager to find out if this would hold true with James.
Once the commodore at last made his exit, Jack leapt deftly from the rafters, scaring the bejeesus out of Will Turner, who cursed loudly and then hissed, “Jack, What the Hell are you doing here?”
“Visiting, mate. Seems I dropped by at a rather opportune moment.” His gold-edged grin was blatantly self-satisfied.
“Spying. Of course.” Will pinched the bridge of his nose between thumb and forefinger in a gesture of exasperation. Then he looked up sharply and glared at the pirate. “At least I can cut straight to the chase, then, and ask what on earth it is that you think you are playing at with the commodore.”
“Just the usual, whelp: I am following my piratical nature and going after what I want.” He eyed the door through which James had exited.
“Could you get more vague?”
“Aye, if I put an effort into it.”
Will sighed. “I suppose you’re waiting here until nightfall, at which point you plan on trying to once more confront the commodore?”
“Good lad. I’d also like to have a chat with Elizabeth about the whole matter, if you’d be so kind as to arrange it. In the meantime, where’s Mr. Brown taken to hiding his stash, these days?”
“Is there no way I can persuade you to avoid Norrington?”
“Not in the least.” Jack was shuffling things about now, seeking alcohol.
“Not even if I offered rum?”
A thoughtful pause, shorter than Will might have expected, then: “No.”
Will’s brow furrowed. “What is it, exactly, that you want from him?”
Jack glanced over his shoulder at him for a moment. Seeing only earnest confusion on the poor boy’s face, Jack chuckled under his breath. “Naught that you need worry about, lad. We can take care of ourselves, James an’ I.”
Hearing Norrington’s given name from Jack of all people left Will a little bit perturbed. In a voice that expressed the totality of his confusion, Will replied tentatively, “Mayhap so.”
“Elizabeth, love, how-”
Smack!
Jack cursed under his breath as he twisted his head back into a more normal, comfortable position. His neck gave a couple of pops in protest. Rubbing the stinging red imprint left on his face and glaring at the woman responsible for it, Jack demanded, “And what was that for? Did you have to use the bloody fan?”
“That was for being so foolish as to try and threaten the commodore.” Elizabeth fanned herself demurely, but the glare she aimed at Jack was fiery. “He’s had enough problems without your help; however, that being said, I suppose that I should also thank you for giving him the impetus to get out of the rut he’s been in.” She frowned at him for good measure even so.
“About that, love-”
“First of all, if you attempt to kidnap him, I will see to your hanging myself, Jack,” she warned. “He responded to your deranged challenge and succeeded in defeating it, so you have no excuse to trouble him further. He has disentangled himself from my father’s influence, and all others who might give him orders are too far away to actually control him. He is the law, now, here in Jamaica, and it is my personal opinion that you are posess an incredible degree of luck if only because he did not see fit to chase you whilst he had access to his eldest brother’s resources last month. Between the two of them, Jack, you could have been caught within a fortnight.”
“That sharp, are they?”
“Quite.” Elizabeth raised her chin defiantly. “Any you’ll have noticed the two new ships in the harbor.”
Jack nodded. “A couple of swift little war-sloops. Still not quite so swift as the Pearl...”
“It would not have been just speed in which you would have competed with them, Jack; there would have also been the matter of brains, of strategy.” She looked away. “The pair of them are quite disconcertingly keen, actually. Will said that watching them banter was akin to seeing James put his head into a lion’s mouth, which I would consider an apt comparison.”
“He got his head bitten off?”
“No. That was the disconcerting part. His brother has a measure of genius and enthusiasm that unnerves people, but the ease with which James handles his brother is a little frightening, all things considered.”
“Ah.”
“And I’ve personally taught him what he calls ‘bullfighting’ but which I will insist on calling ‘manipulating my father as needed.’” She looked at Jack closely, trying to make sense of the masked expression Jack seemed to be sporting. “He can handle himself, Jack. I’ve no idea why it’s of such interest to you...” She raised her eyebrows in a silent question.
“Know thy enemy, love. Unfortunately, as I got to know this one, I was disconcerted to realize that I rather like him.” He looked away, adjusting a few of his numerous rings. “Decided that, all things taken into account, I owed him a good turn. I don’t like bein’ indebted to anybody; you know that.”
“Yes, but it is clear to me that there is something else here that you want, for all that I cannot work out what it is,” Elizabeth countered. “What are you after, Jack?”
“Whatever I c’n take, love. It’s a game, here, not a war.” He shot her look, making it silently clear that she would get no more out of him.
“Does he know that?”
Jack smirked. “So it’d seem.”
James, seated at his desk, did not even look up from his reading when he heard Jack Sparrow climb over the windowsill. He did offer a droll greeting: “You are nearly a week early, Captain Sparrow.”
Seeing that the commodore had not spared him a glance, Jack frowned. Then he realized that James seemed to be wearing naught more than a light robe without, if he was not mistaken, the usual dressing gown underneath; the pirate found this heartening.
James then ruined it by pulling a pistol from his desk drawer. Still without looking up at Jack, he cocked the gun and set it down in front of him: a warning.
“I’d rather hoped us beyond that point,” Jack lamented, sounding irritated.
“You notice I’m not pointing it at you this time.” James found a stopping point, put his bookmark in place, and closed the book. He then pushed away from his desk at an angle, so that he pivoted the chair until he faced Jack, finally looking at him. Reading wariness, curiosity and shrewdness in the pirate’s expression, James said, “I take it you received my letter, and have spoken with Elizabeth.”
“Aye.”
“Do you feel that you have sufficient verification of my freedom and my ability to maintain it?” His expression was carefully masked, even as Jack stalked closer.
“To my surprise: yes.” Jack came to a halt within arm’s reach of the calm green-eyed man. “Now what, I wonder, will you do with it?”
“Still, you underestimate me.”
“Do I?” Jack glanced pointedly at the pistol near James’ hand.
“Quite.” James lifted the pistol, pointing it harmlessly at the wall and pulling the trigger. It clicked harmlessly: not loaded. He set it aside casually. Jack looked torn between relieve and irritation; James only smirked in response, but then once more donned his usual air of calm. “I have met your challenge, Jack. Why, then, are you here?” he challenged, with an air of mockery.
“Thought I made that clear before.” He looked toward James’ bed, then met James’ gaze again and raised his eyebrows.
“You would risk incarceration for a chance to share my bed.” The commodore remained completely inscrutable, to Jack’s increasing consternation.
“I’m a pirate, James. And as a fellow man of the sea, you know that every day spent out upon her is a risk, but always worth it, is it not?” Jack took yet another step closer, resting a hand on the edge of James’ desk and leaning into the man’s personal space. “I want you. You’re dangerous to my ilk, and I know that. You also bend laws for your own principles as often as I bend the limits of the pirate code for the sake of my own, and I find that to be most interesting. Makes me wonder often about just how bendy you are in other areas.” His fingers traced along the collar of James’ robe, down, down, down to where a single knot in the belt held the whole garment shut.
James maintained his restraint admirably. It had been far too long since he had been touched like this, and the fact that Jack Sparrow happened to be a keenly intelligent man with a wicked smile on a devilishly handsome face unsuccessfully hidden by piratical beard and mustache--well, it certainly did not help matters, nor did remembering what Jack’s mouth had tasted and felt like.
With difficulty, James reminded himself to be wary. This pirate was as intelligent as he was distracting, if not more, and as an opponent, that made tricks and traps more than likely. “Why,” he finally inquired, in a low, too-sincere and want-laced voice, “do you want me, Jack Sparrow? I will not be manipulated for the sake of your criminal affairs.”
Ah, at last, the crux of the matter, Jack mused to himself. “As I recall, anything I say aloud is suspect, James.”
James’ eyes fell shut for a moment as he cursed mentally. “When you are dealing with me, is it not the same?”
“Not now. Not when you’ve been so candid thusfar. Then again, so have I, if you’ll deign to believe it.”
Opening his eyes again, James scrutinized Jack’s expression for any trace of dishonesty, but found none; the pirate’s usual swaying and swaggering had become drastically minimized and there was an almost grim look on his face. “Mayhap I do,” James said quietly.
Jack leaned in closer, hardly aware of the way his hand clutched at a handful of fabric from the front of James’ robe-collar. “Then mayhap I want you for no reason other than what kind of man you are.” For a moment, he hesitated, feeling too exposed, and started to pull away, but James stopped him by reaching out and grabbing hold of his coat’s lapels with one hand; there was a look of mixed curiosity, confusion and near-concern on the commodore’s face. Jack couldn’t look away, so he composed himself, putting on a steely glare. “What about you, then, mate? You’ve not any such fine reasons to want me.”
Having had the time to think it over, James knew his reasons. He had simply not expected to have to say them aloud, and struggled for a moment. “Spices,” he said finally. “In my life, every time our paths have crossed, it has been like encountering an exotic spice: occasionally too bitter or painful like a too-hot pepper, but always rich in ways that I have never encountered anywhere else.” He swallowed thickly. “You even taste like spices, of a sort worth more than their weight in gold; although you taste slightly of gold as well.”
Eyes wide in shock, Jack asked, in a quiet, mystified voice, “How do you do that?” He leaned in closer his eyes narrowed in consternation. “Every damned time. You surprise me every time I challenge you.”
“That is just the kind of man I am, Jack Sparrow. I cannot be taken into your crew as a sort of pet, I cannot be tempted into betraying my honor or my principles, and in Jamaica I am the chief enforcer of the laws that you so regularly break.” There was a challenge behind the words: Are you at all sure that you want to risk your life like this?
“Aye, that I do: I lawbreak, I mislead, I commit theft and I cause your navy no end of trouble when you try to hunt me down.” Slowly, Jack leaned in further, until his nose nearly touched the commodore’s. “And I’ll bet that ’m the only intellect in these waters that really keeps you on your toes.”
James’ eyelids lowered to half-mast. “True.” He tilted his head just a fraction and closed the distance between them, capturing Jack’s mouth in a kiss: a near-perfect mimic of the one Jack had bestowed before. Jack’s lips, parted with the intent to speak, fell prey to James, whose tongue delved between them, sliding into Jack’s mouth for a taste and feeling the instinctively eager and hungry way Jack responded.
After a too-brief moment, James pulled away. “Correction: you taste like rum, gold and spices. How apt.”
Jack made a low, incoherent growling noise and pressed in closer to the commodore until he straddled James’ lap. “Damned tease,” he bit out, his hands wandering down James’ chest.
James marveled that they both fit, perched here on his (thankfully armless) desk chair. “This from the man who mailed me a linen bedsheet.” His voice was less smooth now, rough-edged with his increasingly uneven breaths. His eyes fell shut when Jack’s mouth latched onto the side of his neck and began doing truly marvelous things. “This is reckless to the extreme,” he said quietly, without much conviction. “We could both be hanged for this.”
“Not ‘nless you didn’t want us to, mate. You are the law in these parts,” Jack murmured, and shrugged off his coat, catching it with one hand before it fell to the floor and draping it across James’ desk.
“If we are caught, that will no longer be the case.” James’ fingers found their way to Jack’s belts, and began unbuckling them deftly. They, too, were set aside on the desk, along with Jack’s waistcoat and red bandana.
Jack made a low noise in his throat almost like a purr as James’ fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him closer. “Ye don’t seem too bothered.”
“I would be a sorry excuse for a sailor if I did not understand danger’s appeal.” He nipped at Jack’s lower lip, then ran the tip of his tongue across it. “But for all that it is an appealing spice, too much can be lethal, and I am still not at all sure if I am letting greed put me in too much danger. I am not, however, worried enough to stop.”
“Thank God,” Jack groaned, struggling to unlace his breeches as James’ fingers in his hair urged him to tilt back his head. Jack obliged, and was rewarded by James gently devouring his bared throat, trailing from the hollow between Jack’s collarbones up to the edge of his bearded jaw. Jack almost forgot what he was doing for a moment, but then sped up his actions considerably until at last his breeches loosened around his hips and across his groin, making the pirate hiss in relief.
James’ hands shifted, one of them cradling the nape of Jack’s neck, the other trailing downward along Jack’s body: neck, shoulder, pectoral, ribcage, and belly. Then those long, clever, and surprisingly rough fingers slid beneath the fabric of Jack’s breeches and wrapped around Jack’s cock.
Jack’s own hands had parted the front of James’ robe to the waist, and delved under it to grasp the commodore’s hips for support as Jack bucked into the exploratory caress of that commodorial hand. Breathlessly, the pirate observed, “You’ve more’n a little idea what you’re doin’, here.”
With an audible smirk in his voice, James countered, “Navy.” For emphasis, he stroked Jack again, so that the pirate gave a groan of protest when James’ hand retreated to tug at his shirt.
“James,” Jack warned.
“You’ve seen me nude in the sheets, Jack.”
“You’re prettier,” Jack protested. “Hardly a mark on you.”
James snorted, and guided one of Jack’s hands to a knotty cutlass scar, marring the pale flesh of his left side. He watched Jack’s eyes widen with satisfaction. “I’ve earned my share of marks.”
“Don’t recall seeing that...”
“You were, I believe, distracted by the sheet, and you were on my right side,” James teased. Again, he tugged at Jack’s shirt.
This time, the pirate obliged, lifting his arms and letting James pull off his shirt. He braced himself for surprise, pity, even disgust, but received none.
James took in the sight of him and then met Jack’s gaze with lust-darkened eyes. “Bed?” he inquired, his hands stroking up and down Jack’s sides as he lowered his head to press a kiss between the two black marks on Jack’s chest.
Jack nodded sharply. “Aye. Bed.” A momentary pause as he watched James’ tongue flick out to taste the darkened skin. “Where is the bed, anyway?” He turned his head to look for it. Thus distracted, he gave a low yelp of surprise when James’ hands firmly cupped his behind and held him supported as James abruptly stood up.
Amused, James slowly let Jack’s body slide down his until the pirate’s feet touched the ground.
“Cocky bastard,” Jack growled, and, walking backwards, pulled James toward the bed by the collar of his robe.
Following more than willingly, James rested his hands on Jack’s hips. “You should talk.” He then tripped Jack up so that the pirate sprawled backward onto the bed. James took this opportunity to remove Jack’s boots with a few sharp tugs.
Jack then pulled him down and flipped him onto his back, promptly straddling him. “We’ll see about that, love.” His fingers at last unbelted James’ robe and pushed it open until the commodore spread out beneath him was fully exposed, with robe falling off his shoulders seductively. Jack admired the sight, even as he observed, to his surprise, more than a few battle-scars on James than he had noticed before. The man even had a tattoo on the outside of his hip: a sea hawk with a banner in its talons that bore the words: Semper Fi. And James was, Jack noted, clearly deserving of being called ‘cocky.’
Feeling heat rise to his face under the pirate’s scrutiny, James watched Jack’s expression carefully, and felt his breath hitch when Jack met his gaze again with such open, lustful heat. With a low, guttural noise in his throat, James pulled him into another kiss, forceful and scorching this time; it was unrelenting and taunting as James’ sarcasm, but also languid and irresistibly persuasive to a man with the sea in his blood, each smooth undulation of James’ tongue drawing Jack into matching him fire for fire. Whether it was more like a duel or a dance, Jack could not decide, and not just because did not have enough remaining brainpower to give it much thought.
All Jack knew was that he was very dizzy when James’ mouth broke away; although he did wonder how exactly James had managed to remove his robe and swap their positions, his body now pushing Jack’s into the mattress, hands pulling Jack’s trousers down and off of his hips. Jack obligingly kicked the interfering clothing away and shivered appreciatively at the feel of the commodore’s long legs tangling with his own. He angled his hips up and languidly thrust, his cock pressing and rubbing against James’, earning a breathless gasp from the commodore, who then ground his hips in counterpoint. Jack moaned and thrust again, hoping for a repeat performance and cursing appreciatively when he received it.
They soon found a rhythm, to which each man added an occasional random variation, to their mutual pleasure. One of Jack’s hands between them kept them aligned, his other busy exploring James’ skin, tracing scars with especial fascination. James held himself up on one elbow, his free hand gripping wherever he could for the best leverage: first at the bed frame, then Jack’s hip, and then Jack’s thigh when the pirate draped a leg over James’ hip.
James felt himself getting close and sped up his pace, his breath growing more ragged. He reached down to wrap his hand around Jack’s, tightening the pirate’s grip around both of their cocks, earning a low, desperate keen from Jack. The lithe brown leg draped over James’ hip pulled him in closer. As he came, James buried his face in Jack’s hair and bit down where the pirate’s neck and shoulder met, sheer stubbornness allowing him enough restraint not to bruise.
Feeling the pulse of wetness and heat against him, Jack arched up his hips helplessly, his eyes rolling back as James’ hand tightened around his further, still guiding each stroke, the slickness and warmth of James’ release adding to the sensation and making the air reek even further of sex and the sea. Jack’s orgasm followed soon after James’: a final, hard thrust as he clutched at James with all of his limbs, and then a shuddering release that left him boneless and satiated. He whimpered when James’ hand relaxed its hold and moved away, even as Jack’s own fell to rest limply on the bed beside him. Jack felt marvelously weary and immobile, and the feel of James’ body lingering on top of him was quite fine, too, since the commodore had the sense to rest most of his weight on his elbows instead of his lover.
Slowly, James relaxed his jaw and removed his teeth from Jack’s skin. He licked at the toothmarks apologetically and felt the pirate shiver. James knew that he should pull away, but he found himself completely lacking the energy to do so; instead, he rested his forehead against Jack’s neck and tried to catch his breath.
They lingered there for several minutes, breathing each other in and recovering what was left of their wits.
“I knew this was a good idea,” Jack finally muttered.
James gave an amused snort. “You are utterly incorrigible.”
“Aye, and a good thing I am, ay?” Jack squeezed one of James’ buttocks for emphasis. “Else we’d not be here.”
“I was not complaining.” James lifted his head enough to meet Jack’s gaze, but the pirate seemed content to keep his eyes closed. Briefly, James considered smearing the kohl, but Jack interrupted his thoughts.
“Ten minutes.”
“Hm?”
“Ten minutes, and I’ll be up for another go.”
James’ eyebrows raised, but his lips quirked with an amused smirk. “Shameless hussy.”
Jack opened his eyes then and frowned at him. “That’s hardly kind.”
James chuckled, and dropped an apologetic kiss first onto the bite-mark he’d left. “My apologies.” Then another kiss on Jack’s collarbone. “But you are.” A few more in a trail down to Jack’s sternum. “Shamelessly depraved.” He licked one of Jack’s nipples, making the pirate hiss softly. “And wanton.” He paused with a truly evil little smirk. “Again: I am not actually complaining.”
“Good thing, love, because you’re hardly chaste yerself,” Jack muttered, his voice a little strained. “Maybe only five minutes, then.”
Giving only a thoughtful hum in reply, James began the trail of kisses again, this time moving lower very slowly, from Jack’s nipple down.
“Or three...three at the least, and that i’sself is miraculous for a man my age.”
James continued, trailing down and still further down, occasionally alternating kisses for licks or gentle bites, and making a few detours to map a couple interesting scars and one tattoo along the way.
It took him approximately three and a half excruciating minutes for James to reach Jack’s cock, by which point Jack was more than ready for another round, and more than a little shocked when James’ mouth engulfed the full length of him without hesitation.
“Don’t tell me that---Ahhhh---don’t tell me you learned this in the navy, love, or I might be tempted to join.”
James laughed low in his throat, and the resultant vibrations caused Jack’s eyes to roll back in his head. The pirate cursed him in three languages. Then James sucked hard, and Jack lost the ability to form words altogether; he could only struggle to thrust against where James’ hands pinned his hips to the bed as the commodore’s hot mouth bobbed up and down his length, tortuously slow. James played him expertly: talented tongue flicking across the head now and then, and one clever hand toying with Jack’s balls, as James slowly sped up the pace.
Jack found himself unable to last, not with those sea-green eyes watching him and that mouth doing such unexpectedly marvelous things. “James, love, I can’t-” he cut off, his head falling back as James’ tongue darted under his foreskin on the next up-stroke. His hips bucked involuntarily, and this time James let them, letting the pirate thrust deep with no resistance, and when Jack came, James swallowed around him, making him gasp.
Breathing hard, Jack forced himself to lift his head again and meet James’ gaze.
The commodore licked his lips in an absent-minded fashion. “Are you yet done underestimating me?”
“Not if these are the rewards, I’m not,” Jack countered, still panting. Then he gave a teasing, challenging grin. “Perhaps I should suppose you’ve never buggered anyone, an’ see how good you are at that, too.”
James’ eyebrows raised a little and he blushed very slightly. “I have not.”
Jack’s dark eyes fairly glowed with interest. “Really? Never been buggered, neither, I take it.”
James cleared his throat. “No, I’ve not.”
Jack licked his lips and beckoned James closer with a ‘come hither’ hand gesture. “Have you got any oil handy?”
Looking determinedly unembarrassed, James shook his head.
“Bring my coat, then.”
Reluctantly, James pulled away and obeyed.
Watching the way that the taller man’s long, lean body moved, Jack felt a tremor of anticipation run through him. He did not bother grabbing his coat when James offered it; he merely dipped a hand into a pocket and plucked out the vial he wanted, holding it up with a grin.
James raised an eyebrow and hung the coat up on the nearest bedpost, watching as Jack scooted to the edge of the bed. When the pirate beckoned again, James obeyed, stepping closer until he stood between Jack’s knees. “I...would rather not hurt you,” he said quietly.
Jack’s eyebrows raised a little at the comment. Then he pressed a brief kiss to James’ lips. “Glad to hear it, love.” He wrapped his legs around James’ waist as he poured some almond oil into his palm. “Because pain is not the goal, here.”
The commodore opened his mouth to protest further, but instead gave a low groan as Jack’s oil-slicked hand took hold of him, stroking him slowly and oiling him up quite thoroughly. “God...Jack.”
“There’s a good love,” Jack purred, pressing closer and lifting his legs higher as he guided the tip of James’ cock to his puckered entrance. “Nice an’ easy, now.”
“Jack, I-”
“Do it, James.”
Surprised by the command, and the hint of desperation behind it, James obeyed, slowly pushing into Jack’s body. He moaned, struggling against the sudden urge to thrust in all at once, hard and fast. Jack’s lithe body was hot and tight around him as he pushed past the first ring of muscle and slid in deeper. He felt Jack stiffen and hiss in what sounded like pain. “Jack, if you-”
“Don’t you dare stop!” That definitely sounded like desperation. Jack was half-mad with the mixed pain and pleasure; it had been far too long since he’d let any man have him, and James was a quite well-endowed lover. The burn was intense, but so was the need to have James deeper inside him.
“I hardly know if I could,” James breathed, as he felt Jack deliberately relaxing his muscles, welcoming him. He pressed in to the hilt and stopped, shuddering with the need to move, but resisting it as he looked down at Jack’s face. “Are you alright?”
“Just a minute, love; you’re a gifted man, and it’s been a while.” His legs tightened their grip. “But my God, you feel good.”
James swallowed tightly, and waited for what seemed an eternity, but was in fact half a minute. Then Jack arched against him, and pleaded, “Move, love.” When the commodore hesitated, Jack added, “Fuck me. Please.”
Irresistibly, James obliged, pulling back and thrusting back in as gently as he could, but growing less and less gentle with every successive thrust as his restraint cracked further and further, and then finally shattered. For his part, Jack could only encourage this, when he felt at all capable of speech, which was not very often at this point, with James’ hands gripping hard at his hips and James’ cock pushing into him over and over again. He had forgotten how this felt: this abandon, the sensation of being taken and used, and knowing he had caused the man inside him to lose control entirely, all while the sheer physical pleasure threatened to erase Jack’s mind.
Jack didn’t even realize he was the one making that low, pleading noise until it stopped as James’ hand wrapped around his cock and began stroking him, hard and fast and disjointed, but just what he needed. Jack cried out, clutching the commodore tight as the wave of pleasure crested, then whimpering with the small aftershocks that each successive thrust sent through him, until James found his own release shortly after.
One arm wrapped around the pirate’s waist to keep him close, James buried his face in Jack’s hair (careful to avoid the pointier baubles and decorations) as he caught his breath. “My God,” he said finally, his voice low and amazed.
“Aye.” Jack rested his head against the crook of James’ neck, panting hard.
“You aren’t hurt?”
“No. Might be sore tomorrow, but ‘s bloody well worth it after that.”
James smiled in a smug manner despite himself, glad that the expression was hidden, for now. “That was...” He searched for words, and failed to find them.
“Superlatively good.”
“Yes.”
Jack chuckled breathlessly. “‘Course, love. ‘M Captain Jack Sparrow.”
James laughed helplessly. “As though I could possibly forget,” he mocked, then used the last of his energy to move them both to rest more comfortably on the bed, still not relaxing his hold on Jack’s waist.
Jack stretched luxuriantly. “Mind if I sleep here a while?”
“When do you plan on leaving?” James’ voice was neutral, perhaps with the vaguest hint of playfulness.
“‘Fore dawn, back to Will’s smithy to assure the whelp we’re both alive.”
James hummed thoughtfully. “And then?”
“I can be in town a few days. After that, messages passed via the whelps can keep us appraised of each other’s whereabouts now and then, should you be keen on our meetin’ again.” Jack met his gaze evenly, keeping his expression cool and composed.
“And if I should?” James’ expression was, by contrast, unmasked: showing satiation and interest, and a hint of something that looked suspiciously like affection.
“Then we’d have to have a sort of accord, wouldn’t we? ‘No trying to kill each other, or destroy each other’s livelihoods’ et cetera.”
“Hmm.” James tilted his head a bit to one side. “I would like that, I believe.”
“Would you now?” Jack’s voice was low, his expression growing warmer.
“Aye, Captain.” He sat up a little and leaned close until the side of his nose brushed Jack’s. “Do we have an accord?” he inquired, his breath warm against Jack’s lips.
“Aye, Commodore. Seems we do.” He pressed his lips against James’ in a brief, almost tender kiss. “A good note to end on, ay? B‘fore sleep, that is.”
“Indeed.” James pulled the bedsheet over them and settled down to sleep, still half-tangled up with the pirate.
“James?”
“Hm?”
“This sheet...”
“Yes?”
“Is it the one I sent?”
A low chuckle. “Yes, Jack.”
A moment of awed silence. “You sneaky bastard. You had me on my own sheet.”
“Goodnight, Jack.”
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