The beach, if one could call it that, was black and rocky, nestled between a sheer cliff and jumble of large rocks that had also been a cliff before succumbing to gravity in an extremely violent way. It was this feature that James now studied closely. It appeared to him that the only way to reach the beach was to shoot through a treacherously narrow inlet between several of the giant stepping stone boulders and run up the side to the beach. The booming breakers dashing themselves to frothy bits against the steep beach itself certainly precluded a direct frontal assault.

James let his small dory bob gently on the swelling surface just beyond the surf zone. He counted waves and planned his assault. He thought about the upcoming meeting. He smiled. Only two other men in the Royal Navy knew the identity of his informant. Admiral Lord Rodney, who had approved the arrangement and Theodore Groves, his first lieutenant and the man who would take his place should anything ever happen to him. He knew that speculation ran rampant before the mast about these clandestine assignations. The unidentified source of unknown information that could rouse their commodore to these solitary and presumably dangerous nocturnal ventures was a regular subject of scuttlebutt. His personal favorite story, and the men's as well, he suspected, involved his being desperately in love with a beautiful Spanish noblewoman whose arranged marriage to a cruel and dominating man was so horrible that it led her to his arms where she told him all her husband's secrets. That one had started when three long silky black hairs had been found in the bottom of the dory after his return from one of these meetings. Careless of him, to be sure, but amusingly related nonetheless. He decided not to think about Lord Rodney's reaction if he ever found out just how close to the truth that story was.

The perfect moment arose and he expertly rowed towards the narrow gap on the crest of a wave. He shot through with exhilarating speed and surfed the top of the wave to the beach. He pulled the boat up to higher ground and turned it over. After consulting his 'treasure map' a last time, he set off thirteen paces in the direction of the 'least funny part of a big dog', the star Sirius in the constellation Canis Major, of course, and in a short time, he found a large cave. The interior was brightly lit by a roaring fire and standing before it, entirely unclothed, was Jack Sparrow, the reflection of the flames licking red trails over his golden body.

"Hello, Jack. You're looking rather well tonight."

"James! Right on time! Come join me. Did you like your map this time?"

"Very clever of you Jack, but how did you know the exact time I would arrive on the beach? The dog star wouldn't have led the way otherwise."

"Knew you'd be punctual, James. You always are. Besides, I spent about three days watching the tides here. Did a few calculations. Knew you could only make it in on dead high water and I knew exactly when that would be. Incidentally, you won't be able to get out again for... " He consulted a parchment covered in scribbled notes and graphs. "Six hours and eleven minutes." He grinned at James, a grin that quickly became a leer.

"First let's get the true purpose for this meeting out of the way." James looked at him blandly.

"Thought you'd never ask, luv." Jack swept up to him and wrapped himself around him, anchoring one hand to the back of James's neck and using that lever to reel him in for a long and exceptionally deep kiss. James could do nothing but respond to the passion. Which he did. Ardently. Jack broke the kiss just as James felt his knees go weak from lack of breath.

"You know that's not what I meant, Jack. Now let's get the espionage finished so we can concentrate on other things." He trailed a hand down Jack's body starting at the line of his jaw, following down his throat and below, briefly brushing against one nipple before letting it come to rest lightly on Jack's hip.

"You drive a hard bargain, Commodore," Jack said as he reached behind him and pulled a bulky envelope out of the pile of clothing he had left on the floor of the cave. "With the information I've provided you here, you should be able to drive the Spanish all the way back to Gibraltar. They'll never know what hit them."

James accepted the envelope. "Jack, just out of curiosity, why do you hate the Spanish so very much?"

"Firstly, without Cortez, I'd never have lost me Pearl for ten years. Nor Bootstrap. And second. Well, that's a tale for another day." He looked incongruously serious and sad for a brief instant, almost too quick to notice, before a smile chased it away. "Now come over here so I can unwrap my treasure."

"I thought I was the one finding the treasure. After all, I had the map."

"S'what makes it so ingenious, luv. I designed a map to bring the treasure to me. Amazing how clever I am, really. Now you just hold still for a few moments here." He batted James's hands down from where they were reaching for him. James acquiesced and stood quietly while Jack started roaming about his body. Jack reached for the wig first and with a combination of practice and deftness, removed it easily, not snaring any pins in James's own hair, which was far too long to be worn under a wig.

"You've let your hair grow since last time, James. I like it. Suits you."

"Thank you." James closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of Jack's hands running through his hair, glad that he had refused to cut it for exactly this reason.

Jack reached for his cravat next, and with clever, surprisingly gentle, fingers untied it and smoothed it out between his hands. He looked at it speculatively for a moment and folded it carefully, placing it neatly on the blanket he had spread on the floor of the cave.

After divesting him rather quickly and expeditiously of coat and waistcoat, Jack sank down before him and unbuckled each shoe, lifting each foot in turn to ease the shoe off, then the stocking, taking time to caress the bare skin of his calves and ankles. Before he stood again, he embraced James from his position on the floor of the cave, resting his head against the smooth linen of his breeches.

The shirt he unbuttoned slowly, circling each button before letting it fall open. Finally, all were free and James let his arms rest straight down at his sides. When Jack pushed the garment over his shoulders, it drifted slowly down and fluttered softly into a puddle behind him.

The breeches were the only barrier separating them from each other and Jack made short work of them, his impatience showing at last. Finally, James was as free as Jack, if only for a few short hours. There was no longer a pirate and a commodore in the cave, nor an informant and a spy, but simply a man and another man, two lovers.

James reached for Jack then and Jack did not stop him this time. He pulled Jack close, closer still until there was nothing between them but the scent of their bodies and soon even that was gone, merged and mingled until it was a new and wholly intoxicating perfume of longing, lust and love. Still wrapped in each other, they sank down to the pile of blankets and furs laid out before the fire.

Their first coupling was impatient, frantic with desire, and burning with want. Their second was slower, more intimately powerful and still burned with want. Their third was languorous and James basked in the fiery heat of the molten kisses that they shared throughout. After that, they slept for a few scant hours, woke, shared a meal that was either breakfast or supper depending upon one's perspective, and all too soon it was time for him to leave. Jack consulted a jewel-encrusted pocket watch upon whose origins James chose not to dwell.

"Well, Jamie-luv, ye'd best be on your way now." Jack's face brightened momentarily. "Unless of course, ye want to stay another twelve hours and twenty minutes."

The hopeful look slid off Jack's face when James shook his head, hating himself for being responsible, for leaving, for making Jack look that way. "You know I can't, although I do want to."

"Aye. I do know." Jack's smile was back and they shared a final joyful embrace before he left; joyful with the knowledge of what they shared and the promise of things to come.

James, ever practical, refused to think about the danger of these meetings and the uncertain time until the next one. He carefully placed the envelope inside an oilskin pouch and tied it neatly shut, securing it safely inside the dory before maneuvering it down the rocky beach and into the surf. He smiled as he unshipped his oars and thought he'd give the men an extra ration of grog with dinner.