James Norrington knew exactly how it had all started. Sated from an opulent meal and even more opulent lovemaking for dessert, the commodore and the pirate had been lying in Jack Sparrow's comfortable bed, looking out of the window, stargazing—and discussing. Had it not been for Jack's insult of the Royal Navy being a bunch of lax and indisciplined blockheads, it would have been a fine, well-spent evening. They would have slept, hunter and hunted curled peacefully together; a temporary armistice, rising and falling with the moon.

But no. Not this time. Not with the insult hanging in the air, not with a pirate questioning a Naval officer's ability to keep his men under control. It was unacceptable.

Norrington had been outraged. He had been furious. Jack had only been grinning, which had made Norrington even more angry.

Eventually, Jack had patted James' head and cuddled close to him, an arm around his shoulders, whispering in his ear, "If you're so sure 'bout yourself, why don't you participate in a little test? To check your discipline 'n' make sure all is fine wit' you. Agreed?"

And Norrington, in his rage, had accepted. Like a gentleman would accept another gentleman's request of a duel. Except that Jack was no gentleman and their argument could hardly be settled in a duel.

Jack had taken his pistol from the drawer next to the bed, "Jes' in case, mate, wouldn't want you to surrender 'fore the fun begins," and went to the cabin door. "After you, luv."

***

Gibbs was the only man on deck. The others were either sleeping or enjoying themselves belowdecks, apparently playing cards, if one wanted to judge from Anamaria's irritated snarl about the others cheating.

With a quick motion of his head, Jack sent Gibbs down to the others and turned around to face James again. "Sure you want to do it?"

"Yes," said James with resolve. "You have questioned my pride and I will restore it by any means."

Jack lifted an amused eyebrow at Norrington's phrasing, but he didn't say anything else until they had reached the rigging.

"Up."

Norrington gave Jack a pitifully amused grin. "Really, Jack, I would have expected something more creative. A spell in the rigging!" He let out a laugh. "That is hardly new. You wouldn't know how many of them I've already endured—and ordered."

But Jack didn't change his mind. Impatiently, he waved his pistol. "Up, I said."

James sighed. "Very well." And not very much later, he was up in the rigging, face first, arms and legs stretched. He couldn't deny that he still felt a tiny bit of fear inside, crawling through his blood—and he hadn't even climbed too high up. Ridiculous, after over twenty years in the service, but he couldn't help it.

Careful not to give anything of his thoughts away, he raised his eyebrows at Jack, a mocking challenge. "Was that all?"

"No, 't wasn't." This time, it was Jack's turn to grin. He went to his cabin and Norrington almost thought he would leave him hanging there all night, until Jack finally returned with one of the big chairs from his cabin. He positioned the chair right below where James hung in the rigging and then climbed it.

Suddenly, James felt a hand on his breeches. The bemused smile on his face was wiped away in the blink of an eye. What the hell... ?

When warm hands started stroking him, his knees almost gave in. Damn the bloody pirate! He couldn't possibly expect him to—

Apparently, he did. Oh God.

It was no exaggeration that Norrington was exhausted from dessert, his arms weak from holding himself up while thrusting into the tight heat of Jack's arse, his legs shaky from his earlier climaxes—which already made it impossible enough to add another one.

Norrington wanted to push the pirate away, but he couldn't spare his hands. He wanted to kick him away, but he was glad to have his feet still in the rigging and not hanging in the air. And Jack was stroking him with the patience of a whore and only the complacent grin on his face, gold glittering in the pale shade of the moon, betrayed the notion.

After a while, the hands were replaced by Jack's hot mouth, torturing James mercilessly. The pirate seemed to have studied James from head to toe, for he knew exactly what to do to make the usually so stoic commodore lose his control, whimper, beg and cry out in wanton desire.

And James was shaking, his legs threatening to slide out of the grip of the rope, his hands clutching the ropes as if it was a matter of life and death while he was exposed to Jack's harebrained test of discipline. Harebrained—and oh, so very very good...

When his climax washed over him, he almost fell down into the cold water. His left hand lost the grip on the rope and his left foot slid down, until his leg was trapped between the solid ropes of the rigging. Jack had grabbed his arm to catch his fall, but Norrington didn't even notice that. He was breathing too heavily, his throat seemed on fire and his head was spinning.

Jack watched his completely exhausted commodore lean against the rigging, snuggling one of the ropes, trying to catch his breath. He grinned.

"Always remember, mate," he murmured to himself, too lowly for James to hear, "never challenge a pirate."

Norrington would not learn. He was too proud to.

The better.