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Affliction
by Oasis Herself
Pairing: J/N
Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Sparrow and Norrington belong to the mouse. No money made nor fame claimed.
Originally Posted: February, 2005
Note: Written for the Light and Darkness challenge on Savvy archive
Warning: Body mutilation
Summary: So why is Jack so obsessed with eunuchs?
Chapter 1
"I was rootin' for ya mate... Know that."
It was at that precise moment that the Commodore became aware of exactly how pretty Jack Sparrow was.
And... of how very much he wanted him.
Something must have shown in his face. He watched the pirate's eyes widen in surprise and then Sparrow was dancing his way to freedom, flitting and flirting his way through the crowd.
When Sparrow got as far as the wall of the fort, Norrington saw him dare a last quick glance in his direction, and then he was caught up in the delivery of that ridiculous exit speech of his and falling over the wall.
'Good God,' Norrington thought as he rushed to the wall himself, 'Don't let him have hit those damned rocks.'
Sparrow popped back to the surface of the water at the same instant he heard the cry of "Sail ho."
Looking up, Norrington saw the Black Pearl as she came sweeping round the cliffs at the far side of the harbor, arrogant and fearless as she returned to claim her erstwhile Captain. Breathing a private sigh of relief at the escape, Norrington gratefully accepted the out the Governor handed him. 'Act of piracy indeed,' he thought, turning away from the sight to face the unpleasant task of... Elizabeth.
It was easy to be gracious—a relief, almost—though his pride smarted from the public rejection. He was certainly intelligent enough and ambitious enough to recognize the necessity of a smart marriage, but he had never doubted where his true desires lay... and those desires had always been for the company of men.
Returning much later to the quiet of his office, he was not surprised to find Will Turner waiting for him.
"Mr. Turner," he nodded, ushering the man into the small office.
"It appears our plan worked, Commodore," Will said, once they were behind closed doors. "Jack is well and truly on his way."
"So it would seem," Norrington answered, "although there were some touch and go moments there." He retrieved a bottle from his desk drawer. "Do you think he will keep his word?"
"Jack promised not to prey on English colonies or ships, Commodore. We struck an accord; he'll not go back on that."
"You place a great deal of faith in that pirate, Mr. Turner," he said, as he poured them each a generous measure of rum.
"I do, sir... I know Jack to be a good man."
"Time will tell, I suppose."
"Commodore," Will began hesitantly, abruptly changing the subject. "I... I can't say I apologize for the outcome, but I feel I must apologize on Elizabeth's behalf for the manner in which her declaration was delivered."
Norrington handed him his drink.
"Thank you, Mr. Turner. It was not unexpected, though I was a bit taken aback by Elizabeth's choice of moments." Norrington studied the drink in his hand for some seconds before looking up to meet Will's solemn gaze. "I expect I'll recover," he said with a tight smile, and then, touching the rim of his glass to Will's, added softly, "To the Black Pearl, Mr. Turner."
After Will had gone, he sat nursing his drink in the dark, and his thoughts turned again to the pirate. Their time together aboard the Dauntless had been somewhat of a trial. Sparrow had used every available opportunity to brush against, lean against, and rub against the Commodore.
Norrington had thought at the time that the pirate was testing the potential for bartering his body for his freedom. But as the voyage came to a close, he had become aware that Sparrow, as unlikely as it had seemed, had developed some odd sort of infatuation for him. He sighed to himself at the missed opportunity. If the stories of Sparrow held any truth... the pirate undoubtedly would have been a wild ride.
He contented himself with the thought that Sparrow would inevitably show up in Port Royal again.
Chapter 2
"Commodore," Groves said, bursting into his office. "You were right. Sparrow came back for the wedding."
"Have you apprehended him, Mr. Groves?"
"Yes, sir," Groves answered, bristling with self importance. "And he's secured in the cell just as you'd ordered, sir."
"Very good, Mr. Groves. That will be all," Norrington answered, returning to his paperwork. "Oh," he added as an afterthought. "Leave the keys."
"Sir?"
"Questions, Mr. Groves?"
"Commodore, Sparrow has a Letter of Marque." He pulled the document from his pocket and handed it across the desk.
"Governor Swann's seal," Norrington murmured, inspecting it. "Well, it appears Sparrow has a temporary reprieve for the wedding. No doubt Elizabeth's meddling."
"Yes, sir."
He sat tapping the document distractedly against the desk, eyes distant and thoughtful. When nearly a minute had passed, his lieutenant finally cleared his throat to gain his attention. He started and looked up. "I'll handle this myself, Lieutenant. Is there anything else?"
Groves searched his face curiously before dropping his eyes and answering, "No, sir."
"Dismissed then, Mr. Groves."
This was almost too simple, Norrington thought to himself later as he tucked a bottle of rum into his pocket and headed for the stairway that led to the cells. Well aware that Sparrow had left Port Royal thoroughly besotted, he had every intention of using that knowledge to full advantage. He resolutely pushed down the twinge of guilt.
"Back in the brig again I see, Mr. Sparrow."
"That's 'Captain'... Captain Sparrow."
"Well... Captain Sparrow," the Commodore said, unlocking the door and stepping into the small cell. "I dare say you won't be escaping this time."
"A little overdone though, innit mate?" Jack asked, shaking the shackles that bound him securely to the wall by his ankles and wrists. He dipped his head slightly, looking up through his lashes before adding, "Even for you, Commodore."
The Commodore smiled as he strolled casually across the cell.
"I'm most anxious to see how you plan to flirt your way out of this one, Sparrow," he said, pausing to inspect the security of the shackles.
"Successfully, mate," came the pirate's glib response and he punctuated it with a sensual roll of hips and a leer.
Norrington allowed his gaze to drop and linger briefly on the front of Jack's breeches before meeting his eyes.
When Sparrow furrowed his brows in confusion and shifted uncomfortably in the shackles, Norrington stepped in closer and reached out to finger a lock of the long black hair.
Sparrow stilled at the touch, eyes suddenly wide and wary. "Commodore?" Sparrow asked, smiling ingratiatingly.
"You were a shameless distraction aboard the Dauntless, Sparrow... you do know that, don't you?"
"I'll allow that I might'a been," Jack admitted.
"Rather put one in mind of a cat in heat," Norrington murmured. He dropped the lock of hair to trace his thumb lightly along the pirate's bottom lip, eyes tracking the movement. "Still in heat, Sparrow?"
Jack pulled away from the touch. "You're makin' a mistake here, Commodore," he said.
Norrington lifted his eyes to meet the pirate's uneasy gaze. "Oh, I don't think so," he smiled. "You made your preferences quite clear, Captain."
Sparrow dropped his eyes. "Aye, preferences maybe... but I've not offered anything, now have I?"
"Which only makes you the worst sort of tease," Norrington retorted, trailing his fingers across the pirate's chest to his stomach. "Of course, in your position," he added, glancing at the chains, "offering hardly matters does it?"
"Commodore, I really don't think you want to be doin' this."
"Actually Sparrow, I've spent two months thinking about exactly how much I do want to do this." He allowed his hand to dip lower.
The pirate's eyes flew wide and he pressed himself back against the stone wall of the cell.
"Get yer hand off me goods, ya daft bastard," Sparrow hissed, twisting frantically in the shackles when Norrington's hand dropped to cup the front of his breeches.
Norrington paused, startled. "There's not much here, Sparrow."
"I said let go."
"In fact," Norrington said, frowning as he slid his hand further between Jack's legs, "There's not much at all." Norrington began fumbling with the buttons.
Jack struggled against Norringtons's seeking hands, but when the breeches finally fell open, he became a man possessed—fighting and thrashing against the chains and oblivious to the tearing skin at his wrists.
"Navy bastard," he panted, twisting his hips and desperately trying to dislodge Norrington's hand from lifting the tail of his shirt. "I'll kill ya Norrington," he snarled, when the shirt was finally pulled away. "I'll bloody well kill ya."
"Easy, Sparrow. You're doing yourself harm."
"Aye, an' that matters to a man on his way to the gallows, eh Commodore?"
"Stand down," Norrington commanded, placing a palm to his stomach and pressing him roughly against the wall to hold him still. "You're not headed for the gallows."
Sparrow stilled, cheeks pinked with humiliation and eyes wet with rage. "You Navy are all the same, eh?" he spat out. "Bloody thievin' sods, the lot of ya."
"Is that who did this to you, Jack?" he asked softly, looking up at the pirate, "The Navy?"
Jack squeezed his eyes tight and turned his face away from Norrington's searching gaze. "Aye," he whispered hoarsely.
Squatting down in front of him, Norrington reached a cautious hand to move the slender penis aside. Beneath was what appeared to be a small atrophied testicle held tight against the pirate's body by what was left of the scrotum and a hard ridge of scar tissue.
"Pretty, innit?" Jack whispered sarcastically.
"Jesus, Jack," Norrington sighed softly, and stood, drew the breeches carefully back up over the slim hips and secured them. When he had finished he tapped Sparrow gently under the chin with his finger and tipped his face up.
"Open your eyes, Jack," he said softly. "Look at me."
Jack's eyes shot open immediately and Norrington was treated to the unwavering glower of the still-furious black gaze.
"I'm sorry... I had no right."
A flicker of eyes and the briefest of nods was all the response he got for his apology.
"I'm going to unchain you," Norrington said, "and I'd like your word..." he paused to pull the rum from his pocket, "that... well, that you'll behave civilly."
"Sharin' drinks now are we, Commodore?" Sparrow sneered.
"Your word, Sparrow, please," Norrington asked, pulling the keys from his other pocket.
Jack eyed the keys longingly before he acquiesced with a sharp nod. "Ya have my word."
Once free, Norrington handed him the bottle and Jack flopped to the floor with it, pulling the cork and immediately downing a large quantity of the fiery liquid. When Norrington sat beside him, Jack eyed him suspiciously but said nothing as he handed the bottle to him.
Norrington took the offered bottle, but instead of drinking from it, set it to the side and pulled the cravat from around his neck and reached for Jack's wrist. Jack snatched his hand back, glaring daggers as he clutched it protectively against his chest.
"You're bleeding," Norrington offered as way of explanation.
Jack grudgingly extended his hand and watched him as he wrapped it.
"I am sorry, Jack," Norrington said again. "I had no idea."
"Commodore of the King's Navy, apologizing to ol' Jack Sparrow? Never thought to see that day."
"I mean it," Norrington insisted, tying off the bandage and reaching for the bottle.
Sparrow scrubbed tiredly at his face and then sprawled back in the straw, hands clasped beneath his head. His eyes narrowed. "Opportunistic bastard, is what ya are," he muttered, "and ya call me a pirate."
"I beg your pardon?"
"You knew I fancied ya, Commodore. Fancied ya a lot, in fact," Jack said, studying the ceiling. "That's why ya thought you could just waltz down here and take what ya wanted, eh?"
"I had no intention of actually taking you against your will," Norrington defended. "Although, truthfully, I hardly expected my... admittedly misguided attempt here to be rejected."
Sparrow smiled nastily up at him. "You should be getting used to bein' rejected."
Norrington took a healthy swallow from the bottle. "Touché, Sparrow."
They both fell silent.
Jack stirred finally, reached for the bottle, and lifting his head, took a swallow before speaking again. "I didn't want ya to know about..." he trailed off with a frown and a shake of his head.
"So what was it Sparrow." Norrington asked, curious despite himself. "A cuckolded husband... a sword fight gone awry, or perhaps a wayward cannonball? Tell me how it happened."
Jack levered himself up onto to his elbows. "What's in it for me?" he asked.
"Your freedom?"
A heartbeat's pause and then "Do I still need to barter for that?" the pirate asked.
Chagrined, Norrington answered quickly. "No, of course not, Jack. I thought you'd probably show up for the wedding. We were watching for you. The arrest..." he paused, embarrassed. "It was a ruse to get you here."
Sparrow examined his nails in disinterest.
"Well, Commodore, it were very gracious of ya to let me wish the happy couple well," he paused meaningfully, "before ya dragged me down here."
Norrington sighed. "Sparrow, I hadn't been informed of your Letter of Marque." He pulled the document in question from his pocket and handed it over.
"Not too exciting of a tale, anyway," Sparrow said, sitting up and tucking the letter into his own pocket. "It all happened long ago when I were still just a boy, Commodore; fifteen, maybe sixteen years old."
Startled by that bit of information, the Commodore looked up, but Jack avoided his gaze and busied himself with brushing stray bits of straw from his hair.
Norrington shifted in the straw and reached for his arm.
"How did it happen?" Norrington pressed, and suddenly it became very important that he know. "Tell me Jack, please?"
Jack tilted his head, eyes narrowing as he looked down at the hand on his arm then up into Norringtons's face. "Why do ya care, Commodore?"
"I'm not entirely sure," he admitted, slowly. "But it seems that I very much desire your trust, Captain Sparrow."
Old pain flickered briefly in Jack's eyes before the dark gaze turned measured and considering. "All right, Commodore," he nodded, finally. "I..." he hesitated, and then obviously steeling himself, started again. "I was sharing pleasures with another lad, and a couple of the King's own caught us under the docks. We were just rubbin' against each other, didn't even have our breeches open... But they beat us for being sods and then took turns buggerin' us." He stopped and looked up at Norrington. "Ironical, that, eh?"
Norrington only nodded.
Jack dropped his gaze to study the bottle in his hand. "They thought to cure us of our... 'Affliction' by geldin' us," he said quietly. He looked lost suddenly, sitting there, and Norrington could see that even after all this time, the memory still haunted him.
"It was like cutting calves," he said. "They slit open me sac, grabbed a nut and pulled till it snapped free."
"Jesus," Norrington whispered, horrified.
"There were no help from that quarter, mate," Jack told him. "No heavenly host from on high, come to our aid."
He tipped the bottle back and then handed it off to Norrington.
"I fought. Managed to fight my way loose before they finished the job, and made off into the sea. Apparently," he confided, "they didn't want to get their fancy uniforms wet. They didn't follow me into the water."
He gave a quick shrug. "Bootstrap found me further up the beach the next day... bare-arsed and hidin' in the rocks."
"Will Turner's father?"
"Aye... that's when I made his acquaintance. He did a rough patch job on what was left o' me bollocks. Or 'bollock', as it were," he corrected. "It healed, sort of... I lived, I turned pirate."
"And the other boy... what happened to the other boy, Jack?" Norrington asked.
"He bled to death in the sand."
They both fell silent for a time, lost in their own thoughts and sharing the bottle between them.
The Commodore finally roused himself from his musings. "Can I ask you a rather personal question, Jack?"
Jack swiveled sharply, head tipped and eyes narrowed. "Have I a choice in that?" he slurred, the rum finally beginning to make its effects known.
"Well, you certainly don't have to answer," Norrington told him.
Sparrow bobbed his head and leaned forward, almost laying against the Commodore and studied him through narrowed eyes. "Aye, then," he said, sitting up. "You'll be wantin' to know if it still works, eh?"
"Well... yes, actually."
"Course it does, mate," Jack said. Rolling up to his feet he spread his arms wide. "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow."
"Right," Norrington said dryly, relieved to see a return of the more flamboyant behavior. "How could I have forgotten?"
Jack offered him a hand up. Rising easily, Norrington kept hold and tugged gently. He expected the resistance, and reaching with his other arm, snugged the pirate round the waist.
"Here now, Commodore, what's this?" Jack asked, warning in his voice.
"I am rather hoping, Captain Sparrow, that you might allow me the opportunity to chance another, perhaps more successful, attempt on your virtue, some time in the future."
Jack's eyebrows shot up. "Even knowin'..." he trailed off and his hand fluttered in the direction of his breeches.
"Even knowing."
Jack shifted in his arms and chewed thoughtfully on his lip as he considered. Shrugging his shoulders diffidently, he looked up and smiled. "Ya must fancy me as well, eh mate?"
"It appears so, yes."
"Aye," he nodded, looking away again in thought as his fingers plucked distractedly at the buttons and braids on Norrington's uniform. "And you'd never tell anyone... about..."
"Never."
"Aye. Well then," he said, patting Norrington on the chest and pushing away. "I should be off then, eh?"
"Well, you are free to go, Jack," Norrington said, hiding his disappointment.
Moving across the cell in his odd swaying gait, he stepped outside the cell door to retrieve his hat and other various effects.
"If I were of a mind, this might merit some serious consideration, Commodore," he said, looking across the cell thoughtfully as he buckled the scabbard in place. "Aye," he confirmed, raising his eyes and meeting Norrington's, "serious consideration."
Placing his hat carefully atop his head, he turned and miraculously (to Norrington's mind, at least) Jack Sparrow managed to make his escape without tripping.
Chapter 3
It was probably a month before the Commodore became aware that Jack Sparrow was stalking him.
"Jack," he said softly into the gathering gloom. "I know you're out there."
A soft rustle and a shadow separated itself from the hedgerow at the back of his garden.
"How did ya know I was there?" Jack asked.
"I heard your hair."
Chagrined, the pirate frowned and scuffed the toe of his boot in the soft dirt. "Just happened to be passin' through, Commodore," he explained. "I expect you can well imagine my surprise at finding this fine English garden in the middle of the Caribbean, eh?"
"Ah... well, you're free to enjoy my garden at your leisure, Captain Sparrow," Norrington replied. When no answer was immediately forthcoming, he turned back to the comfort of his study.
"Oy," Jack called to Norrington's retreating back. "Ya mentioned I might be welcomed."
He answered over his shoulder, "You are, Jack."
Continuing into the room, he retrieved his brandy, sprawled comfortably on the settee and prepared to wait.
It didn't take long. A scuff of boots on the flagstones alerted him to Jack's approach, and looking up, he saw the pirate peering cautiously round the door jam. Curiosity, apparently, quickly overcame caution.
"Right fancy here, Commodore," Jack drawled as he wandered through the room, examining its contents.
"I hope you're not cataloging my belongings for future theft," Norrington said, watching him.
Jack flashed a grin and crossed the room to stand in front of him. "Pirate," he smirked.
Setting his drink aside, Norrington stood and watched the smirk fade as he reached for Jack, pulling him close. "I rather doubt you came here tonight to rob me."
Jack leaned in against him, his hands fluttering restlessly at Norrington's shoulders. "Weren't the first thing on me mind," he admitted.
Norrington looked into the kohl rimmed eyes, let his gaze wander over the fine cut of cheekbone and the full lips, and then leaned down to brush his lips lightly against Jack's. He could feel the pirate's heart pounding against his chest, and when he felt the tentative touch of Jack's tongue against his own lips, he deepened the kiss.
He felt the first stirrings of Jack's cock against his thigh and his own cock filled and hardened in response.
Moaning into the pirate's mouth, he broke the kiss. "God, I want you," he murmured.
Steering him backwards, he toppled Jack onto the settee and covered him with his own body. He was on fire to take the man, and ground his erection hard against him.
Jack suddenly tensed and pushed against him and then began to struggle in earnest. Pulling back, Norrington looked down at him in question, and then Jack was twisting and tumbling from the settee and scrambling across the room, putting distance between himself and Norrington.
"Not even the offer of a drink, eh Commodore?" he asked, his breath coming quick and harsh. "Just right to business?"
Norrington sat up slowly, his mind still slow and foggy with lust. Leaning forward to rest elbows on knees he watched as Jack sashayed his way around the room, examining and touching and commenting on everything in his path.
Babbling.
He was very near to anger as he listened to the nonstop stream of words... something about mayonnaise and raisins, but he had lost the thread of that somewhere along the way. When Jack's fluttering hand strayed to give a distracted push against his erection, still clearly outlined against the thin material of his breeches, he gave a guilty start and paused mid-sentence. He looked up at Norrington, wide-eyed and still.
'He's afraid,' Norrington thought, watching him carefully. Rising, finally, he crossed the room to Jack and pulled him slowly into his arms.
"Tell me Jack, when was the last time you did this?"
Chewing on his lip, Jack looked down, frowning thoughtfully.
"Jack?"
"Haven't since that night... actually."
"What about women?"
"Can't say as I ever thought about women that way," he answered, wrinkling his nose in distaste.
Incredulous, Norrington searched his face. "No one?" he asked. "In all this time, you've not been with anyone?"
Clearly offended, Jack pushed roughly away from the Commodore and headed for the liquor cabinet.
"Well, it's not like I bloody well wanted anyone to ever know... or to see." Squatting down, he began to rummage through the assortment of bottles. Leaning back on his heels finally, he asked, "And are we too fine in this house for rum, Commodore?"
"Sorry, Jack."
Sparrow stood slowly, twirled with a flourish and sashayed across the room to Norrington.
"I'm havin' a thought here, Commodore," he breathed, leaning up against him. "Seems to me that you, being the man that you are... think that I, being the man that I am... should be willing to just give it over for your pleasure." He leaned closer and licked a wet trail along Norrington's jaw. Drawing back slowly, he narrowed his eyes. "So far, I see no profit in it for me."
Stepping away, he turned and made his way through the room... swaying and distracting and not unlike the exit he made from the fort the day of his near hanging.
"Another day, Commodore," he called from the door.
And then he was gone.
Later, long after Jack had fled, Norrington lay in bed, sleepless and still aroused. After tossing and turning restlessly, he finally gave in to the inevitable and stroked himself roughly to completion.
Thinking afterward about the pirate he grinned to himself in the dark. The truth of Jack Sparrow was a far cry from the legend of Jack Sparrow—a legend no doubt encouraged by Jack himself, he thought wryly.
He kept running Jack's final comments through his mind and was very nearly asleep before it occurred to him to wonder just how much effort it took for Jack to reach his own joy. And really... did he want to expend that much effort?
He did, he grudgingly admitted to himself, dismayed to discover that he was developing feelings for the man. The pirate had gotten under his skin, there was no denying that, and if he were honest, he knew it had begun aboard the Dauntless when he had first become aware that Jack was enamored of him. Thinking further on it, he suspected that it had played a large part in his willingness to collude with Will Turner.
Sighing, he turned over and punched at his pillow.
'Bloody pirate,' was his last thought before sleep finally claimed him.
Chapter 4
A fortnight later, Jack showed up for a second visit.
Norrington made no move to touch him. He poured himself a brandy and settled onto the settee. "I have rum, Jack... help yourself."
Jack did.
He pulled the cork with his teeth and drank directly from the bottle, glancing up from under his lashes for a reaction from the Commodore. When none was forthcoming, he frowned, clearly disappointed, and set the bottle aside.
Norrington continued to drink his brandy, his features carefully schooled as he watched the pirate.
Arching a brow, Jack gave a thoughtful twist to the corners of his mustache and crossed the room to confront Norrington. "Have ya lost interest Commodore?" he asked, arms crossed over his chest.
"Not at all."
Jack thrummed his fingers against his arm, brows furrowed deeply in thought. Bending over suddenly, he placed a hand on each of Norrington's knees and stared intently into his face.
"You're sure?" asked Jack.
"I'm sure."
A heartbeat's pause and then he leaned forward until he was nose to nose with the Commodore and demanded "Well, give us a kiss then."
Reaching careful fingers to the beaded braids at Jack's chin, he tugged gently and drew the mouth down for a kiss. Norrington kept it light, nearly chaste. Drawing back he watched the kohl-rimmed eyes flutter open and then Jack was studying his face, mouth pulled into a pout.
"Aye, ya have lost interest," he said. "I can see it in your face."
"You're looking in the wrong place then," Norrington said. He reached for Jack's hand, still resting on his knee and slid it up his thigh to rest against his firming prick. "I'm still interested, Jack."
Jack jerked his hand back as if it had been burned, eyes widening and then narrowing into a dirty leer. "Guess me charm's still holdin' eh?"
"So it would seem," Norrington said, reaching down to adjust himself in his breeches.
Jack's eyes tracked the movement.
"I'd like to avoid a repeat of your last visit, Jack," Norrington said. "I thought perhaps a 'hands-off' policy would be best for now."
"Ah huh," Jack said thoughtfully, as he squatted down in front of him. He rested his elbows on Norrington's knees and cupped his chin in the palm of one hand.
"Your hands or mine, Commodore?"
"Why... mine, of course."
"You'll not be touching me then?"
"You have my word, Jack."
"Ah, good," Jack said, reaching out with his other hand to give Norrington's cock a firm squeeze. Norrington lurched in his seat and gave a yelp.
"What do you think you're doing? I just said..."
"Your hands... you said your hands. If you recall Commodore—and I asked—you quite clearly, quite emphatically said... your hands."
He reached out and gave another squeeze.
"Jack." Norrington grabbed him by the wrist and pinned his hand against the settee.
"You've handled my goods, Commodore, seems only fitting I return the favor."
"Really, Sparrow. You can't expect me to calmly sit here and allow you to 'handle my goods', as you so eloquently put it, after I've just given my word that I'll not touch you."
"Why not?"
"Jack!"
"S'only fair, Commodore."
Norrington looked down into the pirate's face in bemusement, very near to suggesting that if that were indeed the case, they take their activities to a more private setting, when something guarded about Jack's expression gave him pause.
Jack was watching him carefully and waiting.
Jack's fingers fluttered over his knees and Norrington spread his legs wide. "Fine. I'm at your disposal, Captain Sparrow."
Jack's touch was halting and tentative at first, and he watched Norrington closely throughout... until he felt the heavy scrotum beneath the erection. He slid his hand beneath to palm the sac curiously and then took almost childish glee in stroking through the material of Norrington's breeches.
"No lacks here, eh Commodore?" he murmured, looking up.
Norrington shook his head helplessly, painfully aroused, his cock straining against the confines of his breeches and leaking into the material. Jack ran a finger up his length; circling the head of his cock curiously through the wet material. When he raised his finger to touch it delicately to his tongue, Norrington felt his balls tighten against his body and his hips arched involuntarily at the sight.
Delighted by his reaction, Jack reached for him again.
"Jack..." Norrington caught at the pirate's hand. "Enough," he gasped.
"I'm not done here, Commodore."
"Yes you are," Norrington told him. "I refuse to spend into my breeches like a half grown boy." He shifted uncomfortably. "Jesus, Jack," he muttered, than caught Jack by the shoulders and hauled him up for a rough kiss. He dropped his hand and was relieved to find that the pirate was as hard as he was.
Jack sighed into his mouth and arched into his hand... then stiffened and pulled back. "Hands, Commodore."
Norrington lifted his hands in frustrated surrender and sat back in his seat. "Bloody hell," he swore softly. "Sorry, Jack... forgot I'm dealing with a man who for all practical purposes is still a virgin."
Jack sputtered and squeaked in barely suppressed outrage as he pushed himself away from Norrington. "This must be quite the trial for ya, eh Commodore?" he stormed. "What say I just take meself back to the Pearl then, eh...? What say you to that?"
Jamming his hat firmly atop his head, he spun on his heels and stalked out.
Norrington sat in the now empty room, his cock still hard and throbbing.
Sighing he reached for his abandoned brandy.
"That went well," he said into the silence.
Chapter 5
Some weeks later, Anamaria and Gibbs watched silently as Jack took his second slap of the evening from one of Tortuga's local whores. Shaking his head, finally, Gibbs turned his attention back to the bar and his drink. "Our Jack's none too lucky with the lasses, is he?"
"Jack like boys," Anamaria stated matter-of-factly. Gibbs only shrugged at the news. After a slight pause, she leaned close to Gibbs's ear and whispered, "An' he fancy dat damn Commodore."
Gibbs swiveled on the stool. "No no no... 'tis frightful bad luck for a pirate to..."
Annamaria rolled her eyes in disgust. "Shut up," she told him, and walked away.
Making her way through the crowded tavern to Jack's side, she grabbed his sleeve and yanked. "Cap'n," she cried into his ear, trying to make herself heard over the din of the room.
Jack's head swiveled back at the sound of her voice. "Anamaria," he said, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
Glaring fiercely at him, she took a firmer hold of his sleeve and dragged him into the street.
"Have I done something to displease you as well?" he asked cautiously, wincing when she wagged a finger in his face.
Rocking back on her heels, she thrust her chin out and planted her fists firmly on her hips. "We be needin' to make way for Port Royal, Cap'n." she said firmly.
"Eh? And why's that," he asked, "for what point and purpose?"
"For dat Commodore you been moonin' for."
Jack sputtered in outrage. "I have not been mooning for anyone," he choked out. "And most assuredly not a Commodore of the bloody Royal British Navy."
"Horse feathers," she cursed.
That seemed to give him pause and she watched as he frowned, tongue working madly in his cheek and obviously struggling with the mental image. "Horses don't have feathers," he answered finally, and to her mind, far too pleased with his own conclusion.
"They do if I say they do," she answered fiercely, wagging her finger at him again. "Besides," she added with smug assurance. "I happen ta know dat he fancy you."
"And just how would ya know that?" Jack demanded.
"I know all manner o' things," she replied softly, and her gaze dropped to the front of his breeches before she could catch herself. Jack flushed and turned away, and she caught his arm. "Cap'n Sparrow."
He turned back to her and she softened her voice in genuine concern. "Ya need ta go back ta Port Royal," she told him gently, "before dat Commodore lose interest."
Jack tugged at his ear and then nodded slowly. "Aye."
Chapter 6
Norrington was finishing up paperwork at his desk on the evening of Jack's third visit. He looked up when he heard the faintest tinkling of hair ornaments and a scuff of boots against flagstones, and then all was silent.
"Jack?" he called finally, as the silence stretched.
"Evening, Commodore," Jack answered from the terrace. "Lovely night, innit?"
Norrington pushed his chair back from the desk and swiveled it around to look out into the garden. "It is," he said, folding his hands across his stomach and waiting.
As if on cue, Jack peered round the door jam and surveyed the room before stepping into the light.
"Well, look at you, Captain Sparrow," Norrington said in surprise, noting Jack's appearance. "New clothes... and unless I miss my guess, a bath as well."
Reaching out he fingered the new fawn-colored breeches and asked, "Dare I hope that you have spent some of your misbegotten swag on a tailor... or is there some unfortunate now running the streets of Port Royal naked?"
"I spent some shine," Jack confirmed, grinning.
And then to Norringtons's surprise, Jack began to disarm himself. He watched quietly as the pirate carefully placed his sword, his pistol, a knife, and powder and shot, atop his desk. Jack hesitated briefly, surveying the pile and frowning, and then some inner decision was apparently reached, and he shrugged out of the greatcoat and added it to the pile, as well as the battered tricorn hat. When he had finished, he continued to stand beside the desk, head down, and fidgeting.
Norrington stirred, finally. "I take it tonight's the night, Jack?" he asked.
"Aye. If you're still of a mind."
"I am. Would you like a drink?"
"Had one already," Jack said. "Or five," he added, looking up and grinning.
Norrington stood slowly and reached a cautious finger to stroke lightly down the side of the pirate's face and Jack leaned into the caress.
"If you're sure this time, we'll need to take this somewhere more private," Norrington said.
"You do understand, Commodore... it'll likely take some coaxing."
"I rather expected that to be the case," Norrington answered.
"And I'm trustin' you to not lose interest once you've got your own joy."
"Jack," Norrington murmured, leaning down and placing a gentle kiss against his lips. "I won't let that happen."
Jack resolutely removed his boots and sash as soon as the door closed on Norrington's sleeping chambers, then stood uncertainly, watching as the Commodore removed his own clothing.
Norrington paused and looked up. "Jack?" he questioned, and Jack gave a weak smile before tugging the shirt off over his head. Now he stood in only his breeches, clutching the fastenings in his hands.
When Norrington stood naked and turned to face him, his hands tightened on his breeches and he shifted self consciously.
"I've seen you already, Jack"
"I know, it's just... you're a finely made man, Commodore," Jack said softly. Attempting a leer and failing, he shifted again and dropped his eyes.
Norrington went to him and pulled him into his arms, demanding nothing. He simply stood silently and held Jack, stroking the silky hair that trailed down his back. Jack finally relaxed into the embrace and wrapped his arms around Norrington's waist.
"It's become far more than simple lust," Norrington whispered into his hair, "don't you think, Jack?"
Jack looked up. "It always was for me, Commodore."
He pulled away enough to slip his hand between their bodies, and worked open the buttons of his breeches; gave a shimmy of hips and they slid down the lean body to pool at his ankles.
"I think, though, Commodore," Jack said, tipping his head back and lifting a finger to his chin, "we have some unfinished business to conduct... over there." Arching a brow, he gave a knowing nod in the direction of the bed.
They lay side by side in the bed, facing each other and trading kisses and caresses. Norrington brushed light fingers back and forth across one of Jack's nipples, tweaked it when it hardened. Jack's eyes widened and he caught his breath in surprise when his prick twitched in response.
"You have some catching up to do," Norrington grinned, pushing him flat against the bed. At Jack's pout and quick breath, Norrington covered his lips with a finger to forestall any argument, then leaned in for a leisurely kiss.
Stroking the pirate's slender erection, he teased the foreskin back and stroked his thumb across the drop of liquid that had gathered there. He could see that though it was pleasurable for Jack, there was clearly not the driving compulsion to spill seed.
He let his fingers slide to the small testicle encased in hard scar tissue and stroked it gently. Jack twitched beneath his fingers.
"Does it hurt if I touch you there?" Norrington asked.
"No... it don't hurt," he assured. "More like an itch inside that I can't reach."
Norrington twisted on the bed and reached for the small lamp beside the bed. Pouring some of the oil into the dish it sat in, he coated his fingers in the oil.
He nudged Jack's thigh with his knee. "Spread your legs, Jack," he murmured.
The pirate went rigid with tension at his words, and looking up, he found suspicion etched in the sharp angles of his cheekbones and the set of his mouth.
"Trust me, Jack."
Visibly forcing himself to relax, he drew his thighs apart... never taking his eyes from Norrington's face. Norrington held his gaze as he dropped his finger to trace a soft path to the entrance of Jack's body.
"Tickles," Jack muttered, squirming slightly... and then tensed again when that finger slipped inside him.
"Relax," Norrington whispered.
"I'm tryin here, mate." There was the slightest edge of panic to Jack's voice.
"Shhh... shhh," Norrington crooned, nuzzling into the soft skin of his neck. "I won't hurt you."
"Not too sure I'm likin' this, Commodore," Jack gasped when the finger slid deeper.
Norrington lifted his face from Jack's neck. Jack's breaths were coming in short harsh gasps and he looked ready to bolt again.
"Commodore," Jack huffed in warning.
Very deliberately, Norrington curled his finger and stroked against the small gland hidden within the pirate's body. Watched, gratified as the dark eyes widened in stunned disbelief and the tension melted from the rigid body.
Stroked again and the heavy lidded eyes drifted shut on a sigh. "James," he whispered, licking his lips.
And it was the first time Jack had ever called him anything but Commodore.
He kept his touches within Jack gentle, and began to lick and nip his way down the lean body. When he felt Jack's cock nudge against his cheek, he turned his face and licked up its length, then took it into his mouth.
Jack lurched in the bed.
"Bloody hell, James," Jack gasped. He lifted his head to stare down in astonishment at him. "What are ya doin' with your mouth on me nob?"
Pulling away slowly, James looked up at him and grinned. "Shall I stop?"
Jack flopped back onto the bed, chuffed out a low laugh. "I'll kill ya if you do."
Norrington eased in a second finger, as he took the pirate back into his mouth. It built slowly, with the teasing stroke of James's fingers inside Jack and the languorous sweep of tongue and lips along his length... but when the fire sparked fully, the intensity caught both men by surprise. Jack was suddenly and overwhelmingly frantic with need.
"James," he cried, twisting in the sheets. "Please."
James pulled away from his straining cock. "What do you need, Jack... tell me what you need."
"I don't know," he gasped, pressing harder against James's fingers. "More, James... I need more."
He reached for the oil and coated his own cock with trembling hands. "Turn over, Jack," he said.
"No!" came Jack's startled response.
"What?" cried James, in frustrated disbelief. "What do you mean, no?"
"No, I mean not that way," Jack amended, "just... not from behind me."
James sprawled on the bed beside Jack and pulled him roughly onto his side to face him. "Put your leg over my hip," he demanded urgently, fumbling for the entrance to Jack's body.
Clumsy now with his own need, Norrington slid too quickly into the clutching silky heat, and at Jack's startled cry, he froze; clamped down fiercely on the near overwhelming urge to rut mindlessly and spend himself.
"Sorry, sorry," he gasped. "Are you all right?"
"It's alright... I'm good," Jack assured him. "Just weren't expectin' it so sudden."
James arched his hips and rocked, gratified to hear Jacks strangled groan.
"That's it, James," he panted. "There's the place, luv."
James thrust again. He could feel the press of Jack's cock against his stomach and he reached between their bodies to stroke it in counterpoint to his thrusts.
Jack covered his hand with his own, squeezing tightly around his cock. "Harder, James... has to be harder."
James tightened his grip and began to thrust deeply. Jack was shaking... his eyes wide and black and gazing helplessly into James's. And very nearly silent, only panting softly until suddenly he sucked in a deep shuddering breath and tensed.
"James," he breathed.
Jack threw his head back then and let out a long guttural moan, his cock pulsing in James's hand. The sound of it…Christ the sight of it, undid James completely and with a sharp cry of his own, James buried himself in the still shuddering body and spent hard.
They collapsed against each other, breaths harsh and ragged.
James finally stirred and pulled his hand from between them, momentarily puzzled by the very small amount of fluid that coated it. He wiped it off on the sheet and tucked Jack up against himself.
He felt Jack fidgeting against his side and then raise his head to gaze intently down at him.
"Was it all right, James?" Jack asked anxiously.
"It was perfect, Jack."
Jack's grin was wide and foolish. "Aye... me too."
He settled his head down again on James's shoulder, sighing in contentment... and within minutes began to fidget again. He slowly lifted his head, brows furrowed. "Should I," he raised a hand, pointing to himself, then to the door and back to himself again. "Should I be leaving?"
James lifted his head to locate the quilt, snagged it with a foot and pulled it up over the two of them. "Stay," he murmured sleepily, pulling Jack back into his arms.
He really wasn't surprised when he felt Jack begin to fidget again. He opened his eyes and waited.
"James," Jack said thoughtfully as he raised his head.
"Hmm?"
"Do ya think you might want to do this again sometime?"
"Not until I've slept," was James's dry response.
Jack starred at him uncomprehending for several seconds before his eyes widened in understanding. "I know exactly what ya mean, luv." He settled back down, his head barely touching James's shoulder before it popped back up.
"Just one last thing."
James sighed, opened his eyes and looked up at him. "What is it this time Jack?"
Jack gently brushed his lips against his and then pulled back. "Thank you James," he whispered.
Laying back he carefully arranged himself around James... and then there was no more fidgeting for that night.
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