James Norrington didn't know which was worse—the isolating respect and distinction shown him as Commodore of the British Navy in the Caribbean, or the well-meaning interventions of good friends determined to end his loneliness. If he had to endure one more intimate dinner at the Turners or another large party at the Governor's house with an eternally changing parade of the local beauties from respectable families... all orchestrated by Elizabeth Turner, still acting as her father's hostess and on a personal crusade to ensure his future happiness... he would do something reprehensible. Something that would make polite society shun him. Like showing up to the next soiree with purple stockings and his wig dyed red.

He sighed with relief as he entered his home, pleased to be quit of his obligations as an entertaining and lively guest. Picking up the single candle that Mrs. Worthy left burning on the table in the entryway to welcome him into the house, he walked up the staircase toward his bedroom, a distinguished figure in his quiet empty house.

On a positive thought to end the evening, at least his dinner partner hadn't seemed afraid to talk to him or simpered incessantly. She was friendly and polite, relieving him of the burden of trying to sustain a conversation with a pretty simpleton. True, she hadn't conversed with Elizabeth's ease and charm, but few did.

Charm, beauty, intelligence, personality... Elizabeth had it all, and now... she wanted to have a son named James.

Oh God.

He entered the bedroom, stopping at the dresser, sitting the candle down and staring at his reflection in the mirror, the white wig and elaborate blue, white and gold uniform shackling him with his own dignified rank, the haunted green eyes revealing his anguish. Elizabeth had caught him by surprise, giving him a winsome smile as she dragged him away from the other company and onto the veranda, asking innocently if he would honor her and Will with the privilege of naming their first born James William Turner.

God. Oh Good God. James William Turner. In gratitude for bringing them together and helping to save them from skeletal pirates.

"You look weary, James me love." The distinctively slurred voice came from the corner of the bedroom.

"Jack!" James whirled, his body inadvertently blocking most of the candlelight, making his eyes strain to see the dim outlines of Captain Jack Sparrow sitting in his bedroom chair. "What are you doing here?"

"I was hopin' to see y'undress for your lover. Have y'practiced what I showed you?"

"Certainly not!" His spine stiffened straighter than the Dauntless' main mast at the suggestion that he had practiced undressing with the flamboyant sensuality displayed by Jack at their last encounter. Or that he would parade such ability in front of anyone.

"Now that is a shame. Still, I'll be happy to see your first attempt. More than happy." Jack twirled his index finger in the braids hanging from his chin, catching hold of one and pulling it through his thumb and index finger, his head tilting back and his gold teeth shining in the candlelight as he smiled, looking for all the world like he was quite naughtily stroking ... something much larger than a braid.

"Jack..." James said helplessly, torn between delight at his pirate lover's presence and dismay that his pirate lover would materialize here in his own house. He had admitted to Jack that he wanted to see him again, not an easy admission for a British officer who had made his career on hanging pirates, but he hadn't considered that Jack would take insane risks to arrange it. "You're in danger—"

"The Dauntless's away, just as y'required, Commodore. I hear that puppy lieutenant of yours is gettin' a chance to show his mettle as actin' captain while you're being all Commodore-ish in charge of the fort. 'N the Pearl's far away too."

"And the soldiers at the fort? Have you conveniently eliminated their presence?" Could Jack have found some way to incapacitate or distract the marines? Laced their evening grog with a native sleeping potion? Snuck women in for... their entertainment?

"Ahhh... now your bargain didn't stipulate n'thing about the soldiers. Just our crews."

Trust a pirate to find any convenient loophole. "The soldiers are as much a danger to you as the crew of the Dauntless."

"Then the sooner we get t'our business, the quicker I can be gone, James me love."

"Our business?"

Suggestively caressing the braids in his beard again, Jack smirked, "Aye! Watchin' you strip for y'lover. That would be me by the way, just n'case y've forgotten."

For all his whimsical manner, Jack Sparrow could certainly be doggedly persistent, James thought, still irritated with Jack but fighting his own desire to give into the pirate's demand. The blood stirred in his body as he thought of Jack's strong hands, Jack's hot mouth, Jack's incredible ability to give pleasure... "Do you think I'm going to make this easy for you? Allow you to simply walk into my house and..." He grasped for the appropriate word, "corrupt me?" His triumph at finding the perfect word was overshadowed by the awareness of how much he desired being corrupted. His skin itched as if there was an electric charge in the air, ready for lighting to strike... or Jack to stroke him. All of him.

In the darkness, James thought he saw Jack give a wink at his indignant question. "Not easy, I hope James. Very hard would be very nice. Come on, luv, I'm here now 'n I want to see my fine Commodore. All of him."

"Do you?" Discomforted by how easily Jack seemed to read him, James protested, "You overreach yourself, Captain. I will not stand here and take off my clothes in front of you."

Jack was definitely smiling; James could see the flash of those gold teeth picking up the faint light. "We'll change the plan then, to an even better one. You jus' stand there 'n... I'll take your clothes off." Jack swaggered toward him, dressed in his normally extravagant fashion, though missing his hat and jacket. James remained standing, paralyzed by indecision and need as Jack reached up to his head and flipped off his white wig, tossing it onto the dresser where it landed in a heap in front of the mirror. Jack brushed his hands through James' short dark hair, loosening it after the day's confinement.

"It's gettin' longer."

"It's becoming difficult to manage," James complained, as strands flipped forward.

"It suits you. A kiss first, before we go further, 'ey luv?" Not giving James time to object, Jack tugged on his head, bringing their lips together for a short, sweet kiss as Jack undid the white silk cravat around James' neck, letting it drop to curl around their feet.

"That's supposed to be folded," James felt compelled to note, even as he acknowledged that the voice of reason and logic in his mind was dwindling away, washed out by physical need.

"A place for everythin' 'n everythin' in its place? Not tonight, James me luv. Not any time with your lover." Jack slid his hands under James' elegant brocade coat, coaxing it off his shoulders and down his arms, until it followed the cravat, falling to the ground.

"That should be hung."

Jack smirked at James' fussiness, as if realizing the complaints were last-ditch efforts to evade surrendering to his own wants. "Waste time foldin' something when I can be looking at you? I think not. You are so fine, James me love. Dressed, undressed, half-dressed... it's all fine."

The tone of Jack's voice, even huskier than normal, and the complimentary words made him blush with pleasure. Jack's face was so close to his own, the mischievous dark eyes gleaming with an equal measure of laughter and lust. With their bodies standing so close in the shadowy room, he could almost believe that all the citizens of Port Royal were asleep except for he and Jack, two lovers with a long night and no concerns except pleasing each other. He felt Jack's booted foot tap against his own, and obligingly, he stepped out of his shoes, abandoning them by the pile of clothes. Jack knelt in front of him then, stroking his calves as he unrolled his silk socks before discarding them on top of his coat, unlacing James' white breeches and shoving them down to his feet.

Sitting back on his knees, Jack paused, his gaze wandering unabashedly over James' body, dressed now in only a shirt, the white fabric covering him to his upper thighs. "Finish it up, won't you James? I don't think I have the patience t'night for all those little buttons."

"I thought you were quite fond of them."

"Not tonight. Now when they get in the way of seein' all of you."

Shaking his head, standing firm on this point though beginning to wonder if his deliberate resistance was merely a ploy to provoke Jack to further action, James repeated, "I am not undressing for you."

"If you insist, luv. Don't say I didn't give you the opportunity." Holding one side of James' shirt in each hand, Jack jerked sharply up and out. The ivory buttons ripped off, flying to the far side of the room, leaving James gasping at the shocking abruptness of it. The gasp became a moan as Jack leaned forward and licked his shaft, already rising to meet Jack's tongue.

"What are you doing?"

"I must not 'ave done it very well before, if y'can't figure it out."

"Of course I can figure out what you're doing..." James had to stop to moan some more, feeling the blood rush from his body and into his shaft, causing it to swell and lengthen. "But why?"

"Just takin' the edge off you, James. I want you to last a long time for what I have planned."

Civilized people shouldn't be having or condoning such base sexual thoughts about each other, and James knew that he should be appalled to be an object of a pirate's erotic fantasies. Only rather than being horrified, James couldn't decide if he wanted to know right now what Jack planned, or if he wanted to wait for Jack's plans to unravel in their own sweet time.

Not that Jack could tell him right now anyway, as his mouth was currently occupied, his tongue darting and licking along the length, his lips kissing, his mouth sucking...

At the sight of his shaft disappearing into Jack's mouth, James' knees buckled under him, and he collapsed heavily backwards, first his arse then his back connecting with the floor, cushioned from the cold wood by the green rug. He must look completely disreputable, sprawled on the ground, still wearing the ruined shirt, but Jack had followed him, kneeling between his spread legs, continuing his earnest attention to James' shaft, and James couldn't muster enough sense of decorum to worry what he looked like. How could he care for his appearance when experiencing the most gloriously erotic sensation on earth?

Jack's talented mouth pushed him to the edge rapidly and he fell, the world whiting out as his body shuddered convulsively with ecstasy, hips thrusting forward one last time, and he heard his own voice giving an incoherent cry. Blinking to refocus his eyes, James found Jack leaning over him, smirking cheerfully. "Liked that, did you James?"

"You flatter yourself, Captain Sparrow," James needled, a bit irritated at how quickly and easily he responded to Jack's affections and yet trying desperately to not beg Jack to do more.

"Flatter myself, do I? Your whimpers said differently, Commodore."

"I did not whimper."

His smile expressed that once again Jack was amused rather than offended by James' denial of the evident truth. "Well let's continue on with m'plans 'n see if I can make you whimper some more. So y'can hear yourself this time. On the bed I think. Much more comfy than the floor." With that presumption, Jack sprang to his feet, offering a hand down to James, who took it without argument and let Jack help him to his feet. Jack flung the covers off the bed, patting the plump mattress, one of James' first indulgences when he bought this house, to make up for years of sleeping in a hammock on ship. "Oh, like this I do, James. Very plush. Come lie down."

Obediently, James sat on the bed, feeling awkward in the ruined shirt, taking a moment to remove and toss it toward the chair before lying down. Jack retrieved the candle from the dresser and used the flame to light another, placing one on each nightstand, illuminating both sides of James' face.

"I thought y'looked a rare prize on the green rug with those gorgeous green eyes, but you look even better here."

"Are you complimenting my eyes?"

"Your eyes... your face... your body..." Jack dropped random kisses over James' pale skin as he spoke. James often received compliments on his skills and leadership from the Governor and other citizens in town, but such unabashed appreciation of his body was unique and exciting. Nice women expected to receive compliments, not to give them, and professionals were too crude for believability. But Jack... Jack loved his body, and said so with simple sincerity. James enjoyed the compliments and the kisses, letting Jack do as he wished until Jack wrapped one end of his sash around James' wrist and tied it.

"What are you doing?"

"Just plannin' on having' my fine Commodore at my mercy." Jack waggled his eyebrows. "'N never fear, I do intend to be very merciful."

"Jack—"

Jack began looping the long thin sash around one corner of the headboard, stretching it to the other corner, clambering over James' body to reach the other side.

"You are not going to tie me up."

"Don't y'trust me?"

James didn't know how to respond. He knew with an unshakable conviction that pirates were untrustworthy. He had spent the last decade hunting them down and bringing them to justice. But he must trust Jack to have let their interactions go as far as they had. Jack could have killed him, humiliated him, ruined him... but had only ever treated him with a teasing respect. And lust.

Or maybe he had gone mad? His brain fried by the hot Caribbean sun, his wits addled by too many years staring at the ocean? Surely that would explain why he allowed these trysts with Jack; he was no longer in full possession of his mental facilities. Soon he would become like his eccentric uncle Spencer and start drinking brandy in his tea cup...

"Oh not with y'valuables, pirates should never be trusted with valuables, it's in our nature to take, but you trust me with y'pleasure, ey? I've done right by you there, haven't I?"

"You are not tying me up," James repeated firmly, ignoring thoughts of eccentric relatives and focusing on the present. Yes, he would put his body into a pirate's hands, as foolish as that may be, but only to a certain point. His limits were far less narrow than he would have declared before Jack had kidnapped him, but he was still unwilling to be completely at a pirate's mercy.

Jack pouted, lips puckering out as if ready for kissing before his expression brightened. "Let's pretend, 'ey James? Jus' wrap it around your hand. A little make-believe. I can pretend that I have a fine Commodore at my complete 'n utter mercy, 'n you can know that you can be free any time you want."

Surely having his hands tied would interfere with the pleasures to follow? Why could be the attraction in a bound Commodore? Embarrassed to ask, James conceded to Jack's suggestion by taking the other end of the sash in his hand, winding it around his palm until it was taut, wondering how much of fool he looked, his long pale body naked on his white sheets, his arms stretched up, a black sash apparently tying his hands to the mahogany bed frame.

From his kneeling perch by James' side, the pirate seemed to appreciate the vision. "Now that," he said, "is lovely. Somethin' to linger over appreciatin', James me luv."

James shifted a little on the bed, surprised at the odd flash of pride he felt. He may think he looked idiotic, but Jack found him arousing. "I do need some sleep, Jack. Let's not linger over this," he said dryly, trying to maintain his composure.

"Sleep? When y'could be spendin' all night in reckless illicit doings with Captain Jack Sparrow? You've got no sense of priorities, James. But don't worry," he added, stroking James' lips with his fingers to silence the Commodore's inclination to affirm his duty, "I'll be workin' on that. But first, I need to catch up to you, don't I?"

Stepping back off the bed, Jack began undressing flamboyantly, tossing his clothes recklessly aside, unashamed of his eagerness to disrobe. "Now pay attention, this time, 'ey James? I'll be wantin' to see how well you learn to do this for your lover."

"I wouldn't hold your breath while you're waiting, Captain Sparrow. You might suffocate." The words were cutting but his tone was teasing, almost provoking.

Jack winked. "I'm sure it'll be a sight worth waitin' for. And I can hold my breath a long time." He peeled off the rest of his clothes, his skin even more golden in the candlelight, the flickering of the flames disguising the burn holes on his chest and the scars on his arm. Climbing back on the bed, he straddled James' lower torso, one knee on each side of his body. "Time to teach you all about the fun of touchin', I think."

Trying not to sound disappointed, James asked, "Touching?" Touching seemed rather tame compared to what James had half-feared, half-desired when Jack tried to tie him up.

"Touchin'. Bodies are for touchin'. Lots of lovely touchin'... everywhere." Leaning forward, Jack stroked his fingers over James' forehead and into the loose dark hair. James shut his eyes as Jack's fingers drifted over them, the thin eyelids and the long lashes, opening again as Jack's fingers settled on his temples. "Isn't touchin' nice?"

"Yes," James agreed, relaxing under Jack's touch, surprised at the gentleness of the pirate's touch. But then, Jack Sparrow was never a predictable man. Those skillful fingers moved to trace around his ears, Jack's wet tongue darting into the right before his teeth nibbled on the lobe, and James shivered, startled that such small caresses could have such a powerful impact on his senses.

"Even nicer?"

"Even nicer," James agreed again, holding tighter to the sash, his arm muscles taut. Jack's touch was making him wild to take more forthright action, to grab Jack's head and push his teasing mouth down to the area of his body currently in much more need of attention than his ears. But Jack wanted to show him touching and James desperately wanted to be shown.

Freeing one earlobe, Jack moved to the other, and James found the wet licks and nibbling bites quite as exciting on the left side as he did on the right. Then the lips again, a longer kiss than before, but still sweet and gentle. Jack's slowness made James feel like a special dessert to be savored, every little bite treasured and tasted to the fullest.

James whimpered a bit when Jack's lips removed themselves from his, but Jack's face didn't go away, staying parallel to James', Jack's nose rubbing on his, Jack's hair draping on both sides of his face, blocking the light. "It's good to touch with all the different parts of y'body, not just y'hands and lips."

"I'll keep that lesson in mind, Captain."

"Love your nose, I do."

"Now you're getting absurd, Jack. You can't love my nose."

"It's a good nose. A striking nose. A prominent nose."

"My nose is hardly gigantic," James retorted, a bit miffed.

"It's very nicely proportioned, all in line with other parts of your body," Jack replied, giving a quick grope on James' shaft.

The abrupt diversion from face to groin made James jerk and a sudden question crossed his mind at Jack's easy ability to touch and fondle. "How many men have you loved, Jack?"

"Loved? Nary a one, James me only love. Nary a one."

"I find that hard to believe."

"None that have ever measured up t'you," he said, his eyes gleaming with mischief as his fingers played along the length of James' shaft.

James gave a brief snort of disbelief but let the matter rest, not truly desiring to have his suspicions of Jack's vast experience or his own adequacy in size confirmed. Jack's hand shifted from James' shaft, back to his face, for which James was grateful. He'd already come once under the pirate's experienced touch and felt uncomfortably greedy at the eagerness of his manhood, a rampant salute to his need for Jack.

Unlike James, the pirate seemed to have unlimited patience and a desire to play, teasing James' face and neck with little kisses and nibbles, caressing James' cheeks with his own, burrowing his chin and forehead into James' neck. James held onto the sash, tightening the muscles of his arms, trying to force his acute arousal away.

Swinging his body off James, Jack laid to the side of him on the bed, propped himself up on one elbow, and stroked one fingertip on James' torso, following the faint trace of hair that arrowed down the middle. "Y'ave a lovely chest, you do."

"It's a chest," James said, unable to see the attraction.

"It's a fine chest, a well-muscled chest, a handsome chest."

James started to respond but instead gave a tiny giggle as Jack's fingertip reached his navel and tickled the indentation.

"I like the noises you make, the whimpers and giggles."

"I do not giggle."

"Do too," Jack grinned, running his finger back up James' side, bending down to lick at James' sensitive nipple, his grin widening as James gave another whimper.

"You're the one who makes noise to excess, Captain Sparrow. I thought tonight was about touching, not talking."

"Touchin', talkin'... using lips 'n words 'n tongue 'n fingers... all good for admirin' you..." Jack's words trailed off, his mouth too absorbed in caressing James' chest.

Keeping his hands bound to the sash as he promised, but hoping that he could spur Jack to speed his pace, James tentatively raised one foot, running the sole slowly up Jack's leg. The calf was well-muscled and shapely, the thigh strong and supple. He felt rather daring and bold to caress this part of Jack's body at all, much less with something other than his hands, but wanted to prod Jack to completion before he spent himself again from merely the stimulation on his nipples.

Giving an appreciative murmur, Jack nudged his hip on the inside of James' thigh, the hardness of his hipbone pushing into the softness of James' skin, then suddenly sat up between James' legs.

James gave a little squeak of surprise as Jack lifted his hips, placing them on Jack's thighs, coaxing James' legs to rest on his shoulders. The vulnerability of the position disconcerted James and he wiggled in protest at having his legs stick into the air. In response Jack curled his fingers around James' ankles, stroking the bones.

"What are you doing? Put my legs down."

"The better to admire them, James luv."

"They are merely legs."

"Long legs, strong legs, sexy legs," Jack proclaimed, his gaze heavy-lidded, his hands caressing James' feet, his thumbs stroking the soles.

A wholly undignified giggle escaped James' lips.

"Y're definitely ticklish, aren't you James luv?"

"A Commodore of the British Royal Navy ticklish? Certainly not."

"Very well, my not ticklish Commodore..." Jack pressed kisses to the bottom of James' foot, eliciting another giggle before James could restrain it, smiling at James with satisfaction in between kisses, a satisfaction that warmed James' emotions as well as his body.

Jack's face was absorbed as he stroked James' calves, running his fingers over the short hairs, cupping the knee caps and leaning over to give a kiss to each before his hands made their way down James' thighs, where his manhood rose erect and eager, demanding more of Jack's kissing and touching. "I think my Commodore likes to be touched. Do you like to be touched, James?"

Squashing the obstinate little voice of respectability that told him to say no, he replied, "Apparently so, Captain Sparrow." Curious though not convinced he would receive a completely truthful answer on Jack's motivations, he asked, "Why do you want to touch me, Jack?"

"Looking for more flattery, James me love?"

"No I am not looking for—" He had to stop speaking for a moment as Jack's hand covered his shaft and gave it a good long stroke from root to tip. Blurting out the rest of his words, "Flattery. I am not looking for flattery. I'm trying to understand your purpose in approaching me in this fashion."

"Approaching? You do talk nice James. I thought I was corruptin' you. Wickedly plunderin' you."

Jack's hand was continuing its devilish massage while the other was stroking the smooth insides of James' thighs, making speaking an onerous burden. "Whatever words you choose to use, Jack, the question remains—why?"

"'N my answer would be—why are you acceptin'?" Jack's hand moved from James' thigh to his balls, fondling the heavy weight, shifting the loose skin.

No answer would come to his lips for the truth was he did not know. Inviting the pirate to chase him, letting Jack undress him and make love to him, was madness indeed, almost begging for the ruin of his career and social standing. James had never been one to make decisions foolishly or lightly, measuring the merits of his options and considering alternatives before selecting the appropriate course, and staying true to that course.

But with Jack... he shouldn't have let Jack seduce him, shouldn't have encouraged him to come back, shouldn't have let him strip him... Jack was making James rewrite the wise plan laid out for his life, and with Jack's wicked hands having their way with his shaft, James couldn't regret this new chapter.

Truly he was mad, stark raving mad, mad as uncle Spencer. He should resign his commission and return to England, where they could spend their days together drinking brandy in tea cups.

"I'll answer you when you can answer me, 'ey Commodore?" Slipping backwards, Jack guided James' legs back to the bed, settling on top of him again, reaching down to position their shafts to lie against each other.

Tentatively, James curled one of his legs around Jack's, his body answering in a way that his words could not. Jack accepted the guidance with enthusiasm, combing his hands through James' dark hair, sealing their lips together in a deep kiss, pressing his hips rhythmically down into James', chest and legs moving together as their shafts rubbed on the taut muscles of their bellies, the fluid leaking from the tips easing their gliding.

The braids of Jack's hair swung to curtain James' face again, the candlelight shining through as his head bobbed with his body's movement, strong and demanding. Jack's words were broken but as insistent as the force of his hips. "James... me beautiful James... handsome Commodore... fine strong man... my James mine..."

Holding more firmly to the sash until it felt like rope burning into his palms, James rocked with Jack, his voice silent except for muted gasps escaping his open mouth, bending his knees to the side until he could dig his heels into the back of Jack's thighs, making his own demand for more clear and absolute. The first release had been glorious, but this... this was even better, Jack no longer in control but as driven and needy as James.

Though their bodies were touching everywhere, chests rubbing, lips mingling, hips thrusting, it was not enough, making James plead, "Jack... my hands."

"Aye," was the muttered assent, spoken between kisses, "Aye James... hold me. Fine man... mine."

James released his grip on the cloth, freeing his hands, one burrowing under Jack's hair to rest on the nape of his neck, forcing Jack's lips to stay affixed to his own, silencing him. His other hand dug into the firm, flexing muscles of Jack's arse, fingers splayed wide to feel all the skin that he could.

Rocking with the urgency of lust, they ground against each other harshly, Jack thrusting down as James dug his heels in the mattress to arch up, the muscles in their long, lean bodies straining powerfully. Propelling each other higher, their lips united in one long, melting kiss, their skin gleaming from the sweat released by their efforts as they ferociously strove to reach the final objective. When the pleasure poured through their bodies, Jack could only give a hoarse shout from deep in his throat while James felt compelled to break their kiss to cry out, "Jack!"