The Affair, Chapter 1

Unexpected

by

Jaekayelle

James wore clothing that he hoped would not draw attention to him other than attract the notice of whomever he wanted to notice him. He was glad to be free of the trappings of his rank and occupation. He normally took great pride in wearing his uniform but today anonymity was the watchword. His hair hung in loose waves around his face, over his right eye and skimming past his shoulders, as an added precaution against recognition. Before he left Port Royal Theo told him it gave him a piratical air. Not exactly the effect he was attempting to achieve but if it helped he could not complain too much. Theo assured him it would help. Thank God for Theo. Without his understanding and friendship James was sure living in Jamaica would be a lot less tolerable. If Theo were available they might have become even closer, a risk to his career he was willing to take, but his friend's interests unfortunately lay elsewhere.

The downstairs of the house thrummed like a pub with the noise muted and without prodigious amounts of alcohol, the ambiance similar in an oddly comforting way. Whatever apprehensions James still carried, and refused to acknowledge, faded away as he surveyed the room. The madam caught his eye and shimmied over to where he stood near the door. She was older than he, likely by a good many years, but well preserved and quite handsome. Her blonde hair was pinned up in a saucy manner and her cleavage appropriately exposed for her profession. She planted her hands on her hips and thrust out her chest to make sure his eyes were drawn to her bosom. He allowed his genuine appreciation to show on his face. Apparently that pleased her for she preened and patted her hair.

"Ain't you a fine looking gentleman?" she commented, circling him with a studious look he found quite disconcerting. The fact that she paused behind him alarmed James and his colour began to climb from his neck to his face. She continued her tour and returned to stand where she could give his front a hard look. "You sure yer in the right place? A fellow what looks like you oughta be able to find himself a lady in any fancy parlour."

She winked at him in what he supposed was meant to be a subtle attempt at humour. It was, in fact, rather broad. He bowed slightly from the neck and shoulders and smiled, putting as much charm as he could muster into both gestures.

She giggled like a schoolgirl, a rather distressing sound coming from her aging, plump body. He smiled again just for effect.

"Madame," he said and lowered his voice so that none would overhear, even though those closest were currently engaged in activities that were rapidly approaching the point of insensibility, and were not likely to recognize their own names let alone understand what he had to say. "Tis not a lady I seek."

Her heavily made up eyes widened comically and she tittered. "A lad, then?"

"Ye-es, but not too much of a lad, if you take my drift."

"Young but not a bairn?" she asked showing her Scots heritage.

He nodded.

"We don't employ children here, sir," she said haughtily.

James knew she was lying, hated it, but went along with it anyway. "No, of course not. I didn't mean to imply," he murmured reassuringly. "I was told this is the finest establishment of its kind in Tortuga with the loveliest employees and the cleanest linen."

He'd heard no such thing but it never hurt to prime the pump.

His praise worked. The madam began to preen and flirt again; batting her lashes at him so hard he thought they might fall off. Surely they could not be anything but false. He knew little of women's accoutrements, but he did know that such trappings were many and varied and he hoped he could recognize natural elements amongst the glitter. Besides hers were ridiculously long.

"I have just the feller for you. Now where did I see him last? Ah, there he is." She lifted her left hand and as if some magical signal had been sent out, a young man on the far side of the room looked over and smiled. He made his way to them through the dozen or so customers and their partners, unhurried yet he did not loiter. James noted how he practically floated above the floor with a minimum of movement from the hips upward. It was quite an alluring effect.

"Francis, this gentleman wishes to engage you for..." she tipped her head to the side, "...the evening?"

Francis looked to be about twenty, an acceptable age. His hair was so blond as to be almost white. If James believed he ever stepped outside the brothel he might have thought that the sun had bleached the colour out of his shoulder length locks. Silvery blue eyes regarded him as the whore waited for James's response. Intelligence shone through the gaze which relieved James more than he thought possible. He liked his bed partners to have some semblance of a brain in their heads as much as talent in other areas. That was why he had fallen for Elizabeth Turner rather than one of the simpering ladies of his social circle. His limited acquaintance with the other young women of Port Royal told him enough; none of them had Elizabeth's fire and spirit or her intellect. If only he could find a man of her ilk and it was acceptable for him to marry a male. Then and only then would he be truly happy. And so he took his pleasure where and when he could, in secret but not in shame, because he refused to sully this one thing in his life that was completely his and not that of his station.

Looking at Francis James answered her, "For an hour, and if Francis meets my expectations then we shall negotiate for the evening."

"Very well. Francis has never failed to meet anyone's expectations." She winked at him again.

James suppressed a shudder and reached out to take Francis's elbow. A hand inserted itself between them.

"Pay up front if you please."

He opened his purse and paid the fee. After he had done so and she had counted it, she nodded in satisfaction. "Off you go, boys. Have fun."

Francis met his eye, smiling coolly. James hoped he had more warmth in him than he had shown so far. Then the whore took his hand between both of his and tugged gently, and James experienced a shock at the heat suddenly flooding through his body and pooling in his groin. Francis gave him a knowing look and walked closely in front of him as they crossed the room and ascended the stairs.

"May I have your Christian name, sir?" Francis asked taking the stairs in a nearly sideways manner without a misstep.

"It's James." He saw no harm in telling that much.

"James. That's lovely." Francis's voice was a purr, silvery and smooth like his appearance and nearly feminine in tone. They reached a door and Francis stopped. He lightly placed a hand against it. "This is the room we will use."

They entered, Francis walking backwards in front of him, already removing clothing—his own as well as James's. They maintained eye contact the whole time. James was half-hard and had been since they first touched. If so simple a thing could have this much effect on him he might indeed engage Francis's services for the entire evening. His coat was flung on a chair as they passed it, his shirt opened all the way and pulled from his waistband. James reached for Francis who moved into his arms to bestow a quick grope and then danced away. James laughed and followed. They both froze when they realized they were not alone.

A man lounged on the bed in his shirt and breeches. His golden skin was made even darker by the stark whiteness of the sheets.

"Francis, darling. Hope you don't mind that I commandeered your room. You did say I could come back anytime."

"I'm with a client now, Jack," Francis chided gently.

"Sparrow," James hissed under his breath.

The pirate noticed him for the first time.

"Who's this then? Oh, your client. He's very pretty. Well, I'll just get along until you're free. Go have myself a bottle of rum. Sorry to bother. Going now. Ta ta." He slid off the bed and pulled on his boots. As he sashayed towards the door he got closer to James who felt himself go rigid, his military bearing coming to the forefront and his plans for a pleasant, relaxing evening working off some stress, vanishing all in the space of the second he'd clapped eyes on Captain Jack Sparrow.

When he drew close enough Jack peered up at him. James had retreated to near the door in a dim corner of an otherwise brightly lit room.

"Very pretty," Jack repeated. "Maybe he'd be up for a threesome?" Then some part of Jack's brain caught up with his mouth and he asked, "Er, do I know you?"

"Sparrow," was all James could say, trying not to sputter.

"Eh? Is that yer name? Are we related? No, that can't be." Then recognition slammed into his eyes. "Oh. Bloody. Hell. Norrington!"

Jack ducked around James trying make a break for it, but James was quicker. His arm shot out and caught Jack around the waist, jerking him backwards off his feet. Finding himself with an armful of squirming pirate and a face full of braids and beads, James hung on tightly, thinking to restrain him on the bed in some way until he could figure out how to get him back to Port Royal. Jack's efforts to get away kept rubbing his backside up against James's erection, which had not faltered, much to his annoyance. This was business not pleasure. Still the friction of that taut ass bumping against him was rapidly changing his outlook.

That's when he opened his mouth and proved that he needed this holiday more than he had realized because he had well and truly lost his mind.

"You said something about a threesome?" he asked against Jack's ear, feeling his hot breath swirl around the shell and return to him.

Jack stopped trying to get away. Slowly he straightened so that his back was pressed along James's front. The tight buttocks that did so much to change the scenario aligned themselves nicely with James's hard cock. He felt the delicious heat through two pair of breeches. James kept his arms around Jack's chest and shoulders, and then dropped one hand to let it drift downwards, exploring. There were ridges of muscle across Jack's belly and the hips hollowed out around his pelvis. James's fingers found and stroked the length once, and the cock leaped under his hand trapped under the loosely restrictive clothing. Jack's response time was as fast as his.

Suddenly Jack twisted in his arms, nearly freeing himself. James shifted his grip on the lithe, muscular torso, hanging on with both hands now, and returning Jack to his previous position of back to front.

"You're up to something!" Jack cried. "You're just gonna use me and arrest me first chance you get!"

James further tightened his hold on Jack, for no other reason than to just bring the hard and hot body closer to his; and began dragging him further into the room. Jack struggled harder than ever, legs kicking out uselessly but with intent to hurt or trip. James dodged every attempt. Then Francis materialized in front of them, getting in James's way, worry and anger making his pupils huge and darkening his nearly colourless eyes.

"What are you doing? Jack is my friend and I demand that you let him go!"

"Listen to him, mate! You don't want to do this." Jack finally got a foot between James's legs, making him stumble.

Trying not to fall with his burden, James asked through gritted teeth, "How do you know what I'm going to do?"

"Whatever it is it can't be good. You're Commodore Bloody Norrington."

Before James could respond Francis gasped, "They call you "Bloody"?"

Jack giggled, the sound incongruous considering his ongoing attempts to get far away from James. "No," he told Francis, "that's what I call him. Don't you know who he is?"

Francis's eyes were even wider now. He shook his head mutely.

"He's me arch nemesis is who he is. That's who. Thinks he's going to hang me someday."

"Hang Jack? What for?" Francis demanded of James.

"For being a pirate!" James spat.

"But he's a good man!"

The words rang in James's ears. That's exactly what Will had said months ago on the parapet of Fort Charles after James had tried to hang Jack the first time. Sparrow did have a habit of making loyal friends of people who should know better than to befriend a pirate. He loosened his grip on the man in his arms but only enough to communicate his confusion. What was it about Jack Sparrow?

Jack took advantage of the relaxed grasp on his body to shake out the bruises. His movements became a vibration that roiled up from deep within and swelled outward to consume James in its wake. It was his turn to gasp but in helpless pleasure as the waves of energy stole over him and jolted his cock back to life. Jack twisted to regard him over his shoulder.

"You all right, mate?"

Trembling now, James could barely nod. He felt like he was on the verge of coming and clamped down hard on the sensation, calling upon his considerable willpower for strength. Sweat ran down the side of his face and trickled down his back under his shirt. His hair clung to his neck. Unfortunately, in his struggle for composure he clasped Jack closer to him. The pirate must have picked up on some of his distress for he froze, and then seemed to pull into himself to concentrate. After a moment he lifted his head sideways and met James's eyes and James knew that Jack knew what was happening. A sly smile crept across the other man's elfin face right before he solidly planted his bum against James's groin. Then he gave a slow, deep grind and James cried out, letting go of Jack and very nearly letting go of his control in the process. He was close, so close.

The pirate stepped away but only so he could turn fully around to face James. He lifted one hand and slowly reached out to touch James's chest. Then with his dark eyes locked onto James's face, he dropped his hand to run it down his own body until he could caress the length of his arousal clearly visible through his linen breeches. His expression was serious except for the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Francis watched them both and finally with a pouty sigh he said, "You two don't need me here. I'll go find someone else to play with for the rest of the night. Jack, the room is yours and your friend's. Leave the money on the dresser in the morning."

"Money?" Jack asked without taking his eyes off James.

"Rent." And Francis sailed out of the room closing the door behind him.

There was a question on Jack's expressive face.

"Is this some kind of game to lure me to the gallows?"

Gulping air into his burning lungs James said in a voice that was surprisingly steady, "No game. No gallows."

Jack nodded. "I'll hold you to that."

Striving for a conversational tone and wondering why he bothered, James said, "It's a pity Francis left. He's very attractive and I should like to have seen... more of him."

"You'll have to come back another time and pay him a visit. He'd like that."

James nodded.

Jack nodded.

Then they were in each other's arms kissing madly, insanely. James clasped Jack's face while the pirate finished what Francis had started. With one arm wrapped around James's waist he tugged insistently on the opened shirt, trying to rip it off upwards only to discover one and a half sets of arms were in the way. James let go to work his fingers and then the entire hand under Jack's waistband. He found his prize, hot and throbbing, velvety to the touch. As he fondled it Jack stopped moving to lean forward, his forehead pressing against James's shoulder. A low rumble rolled through his slight frame and he whispered something.

James couldn't make out the words. "What?"

"Bed. Is there one?"

James chuckled, pleased beyond telling that he was making Jack Sparrow stupid with lust. Of course, he wasn't much more coherent.

"Bed," he agreed. "Over there."

They moved in a strange kind of stumbling shuffling dance towards the large bed, both of them reluctant to let go of the other. Jack lifted his head, dark eyes searching James's face for something only he would recognize. James stared back and opened himself up for scrutiny. He let his barriers fall away, unsure why he was doing this for Jack Sparrow yet willing to do it in a heartbeat. And then their legs hit the edge of the mattress and they tumbled onto the bed, getting further tangled up in the process. They fought with their clothing until it all went away, somehow remembering in the middle of it to kick off boots and make the entire process easier.

It was still all madly insane. James would have thought so if thought had been an option. The idea of him with Jack Sparrow... But touch, and need were all he could deal with now; and hot, silky skin and wet lips and tongue and searching mouth. The agony of needing something so badly he would kill for it. Writhing under Jack's hands, making Jack pant and not quite beg in turn. Sucking on peaked flesh, crying out when engulfed by that infuriatingly taunting mouth that never shut up, only now it was teasing and tormenting without a word being uttered.

They rearranged themselves, skirmishing for new positions, getting in each other's way. Elbows and knees clashed and sank into yielding flesh with grunts and muttered apologies. And then bodies were jerking and rocking and straining for that moment of perfection that felt totally unattainable and yet just within reach. Sweat dripped off James's nose and splashed on Jack's chin and Jack grinned up at him, dark eyes sparkling and so full of longing and desire that it made James pause and his throat close up for a moment. His mind strove to comprehend what had just happened, but it was no use for he was at the pinnacle at long last and beyond understanding. He shuddered and slowed in his frenzy and shuddered again, and then he was there, spilling what felt like his life onto his belly and the sheets and all over Jack. A long, throaty groan climbed out of Jack's body and he quaked underneath James, erupting like a geyser and spraying them both with heat and wet.

James flopped face down on the mattress, turning his head at the last second before he lost all ability to move so that he would not suffocate. Jack sprawled beside him, one arm and one leg resting across James's back and calves. A dangling hand idly stroked James's lower back where it dipped and swelled again. Inquisitive fingers walked across his tailbone and James discovered, to his astonishment, that he was ticklish there. He tried not to squirm, but Jack realized the truth and rolled over to use both hands and about a thousand devilish fingers.

"Stop!" James cried out through his laughter. "P-please..." He had wriggled perilously close to the edge of the bed, but was now held down by those maddening hands. And then the hands were gone. He lifted his head, gulping air into lungs still burning from other exertions and striving to find his dignity. Before he had a chance to wrap himself back up in his protective armour, something wet and pliant prodded him a short distance below his traitorous tailbone. His previous astonishment had nothing on the sheer shock of Jack's foray into virgin territory. James was hardly a virgin. He'd been with men many times and done all sorts of things, but this... this was new.

"What... wh-what the hell are you doing?"

"Like it?" came the muffled response with a bit of a slurp.

Gripping the sheets with spasmodic fingers James gasped out, "Yes... No! Yes! Don't stop!"

The chuckling that became humming went straight to James's cock, stoking the embers back to flames. While proud of his virility never had he reached this point again so quickly. He wasn't sure his body—his heart—could take it, but he was oh so willing to push his limits and find out. Jack's tongue, for that was what he had finally decided Jack was using, swept around and around setting nerve endings ablaze. It slipped inside him. He howled—he *howled*. His last coherent thought before his brain shut down was that something that good must be bad; and then he was gone, writhing on a wave of sensation that culminated with him pulsing and thumping into the mattress, all without a hand touching him anywhere except for the fingers splayed across his buttocks. He sank into the bed wanting to go so deep as to disappear; yet he was too light and seemed destined to float above it instead. It was a conundrum.

After a dozy rest in which time was indeterminate, and when he awoke he still had no inkling of how much had passed, he rolled over onto his back. Dark, dark eyes regarded him with a steady stare that seemed both curious and wary at the same time. The curiosity was all Jack Sparrow but the caution was unfamiliar. James had not, until now, observed anything close to it in the pirate.

He swallowed to lubricate his dry throat and said, "Do you think that I would be angry with you after that?"

Jack blinked. "Halfway through the last round I realized that I don't know you well enough to know how you would react... apart from the obvious, of course," he managed a smirk.

''You could have gotten away after the first time. Why did you do... what you did?" James wanted to know even though he was slightly embarrassed at reacting so strongly to Jack's tongue.

"You needed it."

That was an unexpected answer. "I... needed it?"

"Aye. Lad, you're wound too tight."

Thinking back on his reasons for coming to Tortuga in the first place and hiring Francis for a tumble, James nodded. "Yes. I am. I was." He arched one eyebrow.

Jack stared and then laughed. "You were," he agreed. "No more. Thanks to ol' Jack."

"Oh yes. Do become insufferable."

Jack stretched, still grinning. "It's me middle name."

James couldn't help it, he snorted.

Shifting so that he leaned on an elbow and looked down on James. They were both silent for a few moments while Jack's fingers danced through James's hair, lifting some strands and petting others. Finally he said, "You look a lot younger without all the trappings, lad."

That was the second time Jack had called him "lad". No one called him that anymore. "I'm thirty."

It was Jack's turn to raise his brow. "You're but a babe."

"You are hardly an old man, Sp—Jack."

A sigh wafted out between them. "I have nearly forty years."

James had nothing to say to that but said something anyway. "You don't look your age."

"Is that a compliment?" Jack asked with a wry grin.

Colouring slightly James replied, "It was meant as one."

"Then thank you." Jack tipped his head to one side. "What's your given name?"

For the second time that night he gave it freely. "It's James."

Smiling more broadly Jack said, "There. Our lives were meant to intertwine."

Puzzled James asked, "How do you think that?"

"Our names both start with the same letter." As if it was that obvious.

"Ah, of course." James fought to keep from saying something sarcastic. "Is Jack your real name?"

"It is."

"What about Sparrow?"

The broad grin was back. "Give me another tumble and maybe I'll tell you."

His eyes drifted downward to his groin. James followed his gaze. The pirate had hoisted the Jolly Roger again.

"Well, I did get two..."

"Excellent!" Jack eagerly rubbed his hands together and flung himself on top of James who recoiled into the pillows more from surprise than anything. Lying full length atop him Jack wiggled a bit to get comfortable, his stiff cock fitting itself against the crease of James's thigh, and rested his chin on his folded hands, which happened to be on James's chest. "Will ye bugger me?"

Caught off guard by the direct request James stated matter-of-factly, "You're mad."

A frown marred the exotic face inches from his own. "But you said..."

"And I meant it. Still, you are mad as a hatter. I've never seen your like. You exist in a world I cannot comprehend. Your walk, your talk, your behaviour..."

"Pirate," Jack said with pride.

"Yes, yes. But you are unlike any pirate I have had the misfortune to meet."

Jack harrumphed. "'Twould be the misfortune of the pirates if they meet you."

"Thank you," James said haughtily nearly spoiling it with a smile.

Jack stuck his tongue out at him and hid it again. James reared up and captured a double handful of dreadlocks and trinkets, and then he was in Jack's mouth seeking that impertinent tongue. He caught it, wound his own around it and dragged it back out where he could trap it between his lips. There was one brief instant when he remembered where it had been, but it was too late by then so he ignored that worrisome thought. Jack let him control the kiss, succumbing to everything James threw at him. His participation was sweet, however, and James got lost in the middle of it all. They broke apart, panting.

"Bugger me?" Jack asked again hopefully.

"On your stomach," James ordered roughly to cover the shakiness of his emotions. Rocked by the strength of his feelings for this exasperating man, they were more powerful than earlier when he had let his walls crumble, and then simply because Jack Sparrow had looked at him with longing.

"I prefer my back."

Heaving a mock sigh of irritation James said, "Very well." He was pleased by the choice. He wanted to watch Jack's face as he made him come while inside him.

James swung his legs off the bed and he opened a drawer in the bedside table. Surely a whore... Francis would keep oil... Found it. Clutching the small bottle he crawled back to the middle of the bed where Jack waited with legs and arms spread wide, a big stupid smile on his face. James regarded him with some fondness and none of it reluctant. He supposed he should be concerned that he no longer had objections to a dalliance with a pirate. Well, with this particular pirate. Kneeling beside him, James studied the ridiculously overblown version of Jack's armour. While James protected himself from the inside out, he realized that Jack covered up his true self with misdirection and drama. The kohl lining his eyes could be to ward off the sun's glint from the sea. James had used it a time or two himself while sailing his sloop on a bright Sunday afternoon. But the headscarf and the beads and charms, along with the outlandish performances, took one's attention from the sharp-eyed gaze and the savvy intelligence. He wondered what would happen when all of the artifice was stripped away. What would one find?

"Waiting. Still waiting," came a singsong voice, shattering his musings.

Resting his hands on his thighs, James looked up through a curtain of hair. "I should make you wait longer."

Jack's smile faltered but then James returned it full on and the pirate reached up with both hands. James went willingly into his embrace. Soft kisses soon became biting and hungry. Breathing heavily James wrenched his mouth from Jack's. Then he dove right back in to steal two more clinging kisses before pulling out of reach of that sensual, tempting mouth.

Fumbling for the oil he used it quickly and efficiently, not wanting to waste another moment. The breech when it happened was nearly his undoing. He'd done this before with others but this time there was something undeniably hotter, tighter and more about pushing into Jack's twanging body. That Jack was trembling while swallowing him whole put yet another twist in the tale. James was amazed at how incredible it felt to join with this man. Jack was no longer "the pirate" except in a part of James's mind where he felt compelled to tease, to think of him with great affection. His natural cynicism reared its ugly head briefly, and offered the suggestion that he needed to get fucked more often so he wouldn't get sentimental over his first tumble in many months. But James knew this was different. He wasn't waxing romantic. He was enjoying himself and the reason was Jack, plain and simple—not that those words applied to Jack Sparrow.

"All the way in, there's a good love." Jack wiggled his butt a little and then lifted his legs to wrap them around James's waist. James slid his arms under the strong thighs and shifted Jack's legs to rest on his shoulders. Dark eyes widened and the crazily decorated head nodded as James thrust with his hips to gain that last bit of Jack. His tip bumped that magic spot deep inside and Jack threw his head back, panting hard. Biting his lower lip to keep from crying out he tossed his head back and forth on the pillow.

"Say my name," James urged.

"Ja-Jamesss. Ah, James!" James rocked forward and Jack yelled, "Holy Christ on a tadpole! That's it, that's it!"

Those fathomless eyes fluttered closed and opened again as Jack struggled to look at James, who rewarded him with encouragement to let go, let it all go. Releasing his death grip on the sheets Jack's hands did their own fluttering as he sought to grab himself. He missed the first time and when he tried again James guided him home. They stroked him together.

"James. Jamie... JamieJamieJamie..." Jack's chants intensified with James's increasingly vigorous thrusting.

Impulsively, James reached out and swept the headscarf from Jack's head. Black hair spilled out over the pillow, snaking across the linen. Jack was startled. For an instant annoyance flared in his eyes, but then James changed the angle of his movements and Jack's eyes nearly rolled back in his head. James allowed some smugness to surface in his expression. Jack recovered in time to notice and mutter something that sounded like, "Now who's insufferable?" And then he climaxed. James thrust three more times and he joined him in near oblivion.

When lucidness returned, one of Jack's heels was nestled in the soft rise of James's rump and the man himself was snoring in James's ear. Easing himself out of the lax embrace James settled beside him, and Jack immediately rolled toward him, throwing an arm over him. He snuggled in close, made a few smacking noises with his mouth and returned to slumber. James lightly trailed one finger across a wide cheekbone and then he too fell deeply asleep.

#

"...up. Wake. Up!"

The voice was annoying in the extreme. James waved it away but felt his hand caught in an insistent grip that nearly crushed his fingers.

"Will the two of you layabouts please get out of my bed? I have a customer coming up in a few minutes."

Francis.

"Jack. James. Out of my bed now!"

James cranked one eye open. There was a bad moment when he thought he'd gone blind, but he realized that one of Jack's braids was lying across his face. He brushed it off and sat up. Jack was still asleep beside him. Francis, however, was quite awake and more than a little put out.

"Francis. Sorry. What... what time is it?"

"Noon."

''What!"

Francis folded his arms across his chest. "No. It's closer to eight in the morning, but I need my room back now."

"Oh, certainly. Of course. Uh, Jack? Jack!"

Bellowing in his ear seemed to do the trick. Jack shot up and was halfway out of the bed before reality caught up with him. The sheets tangled around his legs and he disappeared from James's sight, falling to the floor on the other side. He popped right back up again, hair flying every which way and ending up covering most of his face.

James leaned across the bed offering a hand up.

"Take it easy. It's just Francis. He wants us to leave."

Planting his right hand over his heart Jack said, "Jesus, Jamie. Don't ever wake me up like that again."

James was about to reply that he wouldn't, and then he wondered if he'd ever get the opportunity to watch Jack sleep and to wake him up with kisses instead of shouts. Then a thoroughly cranky Francis demanded again that they get out and the thought was lost. In their hurry to get dressed they had little chance to talk, but their eyes met several times as they made hasty attempts at washing up and then pulled on clothing. When Jack wrestled his scarf on over his mop of hair he glared at James but softened it by making kissing noises in his direction. James pretended not to notice but failed to keep a smirk off his lips. They were both pathetic, he decided.

Heartened by that little session of silliness, James straightened his clothing and turned to thank Francis for the use of the room, and to apologize for the turn of events the night before.

Francis waved him off. "It's fine. Next time you hire me, however, I'll expect to stay with you. Unless..." he trailed off giving him and Jack speculative looks. "Never mind what I just said. If the two of you ever need a place to go to be together, please come here. As long as you pay for the room it's yours for as long as you need it. I can always find somewhere else to take my customers."

"What about Madam?"

"She only cares about the money. It will be all right."

"Thank you, Francis." James took his hand but Francis rose up on tiptoes to kiss him gently on the lips.

"Just remember that Jack is a good man."

"I've figured that out—finally." If he dwelled on the notion he could argue that he knew virtually nothing about Jack Sparrow the man except that he was hopelessly attracted to him. Ah well. Something to ponder another time.

"Ahem." They both turned to see Jack decked out in full dress and tapping his foot impatiently, and a stranger standing in the doorway gaping at them. "Shall we, Jamie? This fella here seems to want to come in."

Francis hurried over to the customer. "I'll just be a moment, love. Wait in the hall will you? Promise to make it up to you." After he got the other man out he rushed back in. "You two have thoroughly destroyed my bed. Help me change the sheets before you go!"

As one Jack and James walked back to the bed and, following the direction of an increasingly harried Francis, they flipped sheets and pillowslips and within moments the bed was as good as new, the soiled linen stowed in a hamper on the far side of the room.

"Now, leave!"

As Francis pushed them both bodily towards the door, one hand on each back, James said, "I hope I can count on your discretion..."

"Yes, yes! I only know you as James. If anyone asks about a Captain Norrington..."

"Commodore," Jack supplied.

Francis shot him a look. "About a Captain Norrington I've never met the man. Whoever he is he wasn't here. Ever."

"Thank you, Francis." James was grateful and relieved.

"You're welcome. Now go!" One final shove and they found themselves in the hallway and saw the other man dragged into the room. The door shut in their faces with a finality that was inarguable.

"Well," James said to the floor.

"Aye."

"That was..."

"It really was."

Lifting his head James cocked an eyebrow at Jack. "Do you think we could..."

"...do this again? Aye." Jack stepped closer and James pulled him into the circle of his arms, bending his head to demand a kiss. When they came up for air Jack asked, "Next month, same time?"

"Here?"

"Here will do nicely. Give us another kiss, Jamie."

Eventually they broke apart but reluctantly.

"I should go. It's time to return to Port Royal."

"And I have ships to plunder and treasures to seek."

"As long as they aren't British ships," James warned.

"Cross my heart," and Jack did just that. "Oh, Francis wanted rent for the room. You'll pay him, won't you, love?" Then he grabbed James by the shoulders, kissed him until James's eyes started to cross and was suddenly disappearing down the stairs with a jaunty wave. "See you next month!"

James started to yell after him but laughed instead. With a tiny smile he dug into his purse and slipped some coins under the door.

"A good man," he murmured. "The term needs to be redefined."

#

Two weeks later, upon waking in the middle of the night, James was not surprised to find Jack Sparrow climbing through his bedroom window. What could an off-duty Commodore do but throw the covers back and welcome him into his bed?

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