Diving 10

Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made.
Originally Posted: 7/12/06
Archiving: Please do not archive without my permission
Note: So, finally it's done. I loved these two so much, and the new movie brought a lot of that love back to me, so finally posting this has been both a relief and a pleasure.

Drying himself, he searched around and found a mirror. It was small, ornate enough to have belonged to a princess. Soaping his face, he settled before it and took the open razor by its horn handle. Then carefully he scraped at his stubble, until chin and cheeks and neck were quite smooth. Another rinse took the last of the soap away, and he dried the razor, folding it before placing it back on the table. A comb, its edge encrusted in pearls, he ran through his hair, tidying its ragged length as best he could. In the mirror he looked calm. Strange, as he wasn't sure that was the word for what he felt. Light of head and body, for sure. Happy. The thought made him smile, and he watched himself, wondering what Jack saw, what there was in him that Jack wanted. Though he wasn't going to question it too much, just accept the gift, and give back as much as he could of pleasure.

Slowly, he stood up and, naked, walked into their cabin. Theirs, not just Jack's. The massive bed was so inviting, though the bedlinen was rumpled. Folding the blankets back, he smoothed the sheet flat and plumped the pillows as he remembered seeing the maids at his mother's house do. Not that it mattered. He'd want the pirate anywhere. Lying on dust or silk, it didn't make a difference to anything but their comfort.

It was close to sunset, and already the room was full of the warm, rich light of day's end. It wouldn't last long, and tonight there would be no moon. Lighting a taper, he paced around the room, lighting the two candles that sat on the table by his bedside, shielding the flame and going to the shelf that ran under the window, and putting the flame to the candles there. Their light was faded against the day, but soon they would be needed, for he wanted to see Jack Sparrow naked, to watch him as they made love. He let the taper burn through, and dropped the ashes onto a dish.

He looked around. There was nothing else to do. Crossing to the window he stared out at the perfect red and gold sky, and let his thoughts wander without intent. There was no room in him for reason, this was all about need and sensation. Need and necessity. For he had no doubts about his own cravings. And whatever else he knew about the pirate, he knew that he was desired in the same way.

Though in truth he felt different too. Changed beyond belief from the man who had asked Elizabeth Swann to be his wife. Changed even more from the man who had counted a day well spent if a pirate died at his orders. He felt, what? Lighter. Enlightened. Maybe the philosophers needed to meet with a pirate named Sparrow. He seemed to hold the answers to a universe of questions.

Norrington smiled, and turned. And there, silent and still, watching him, was Jack. He was wearing his shirt open, and water trickled down his chest.

"I'll take you any way you wish." He shrugged in mild embarrassment, hearing the way his words could be interpreted. Then, dry-mouthed, added, "Or you could take me."

"I've a thousand pleasures, Jamie. I like to fuck, and I'm greedy. I want everything."

"Then we'd better prove it, hadn't we." And with that Jack stepped into the room, the curtain falling closed behind him. He'd already stripped the scarf and bone from his hair, and loosed the braids that kept it swept from his face. As he paced forward he stripped off his shirt, and the fine, sleek planes of his body were touched rose and amber by the sunset. Very serious, he came and stood by Norrington and, reaching out a hand, stroked a thumb over his cheek. "And my pleasure tonight is to have you, Jamie."

He moved closer, and the hand around Norrington's head pulled him down. Close enough to feel each other's breath, not close enough to touch.

"Jack, yes." And then the lips brushed his own, and the hand clasping possessively about his head pulled him closer. James moaned into the kiss, wanting more, though it was withheld as the lips traced up his face, kissed his eyes, his forehead, the line of his nose and then finally, delicately, his mouth.

The lips whispered against his own, and James could only reply with his body, pushing wantonly forward, his hands sliding around Jack's slim ribs for his knees were weak and his cock was already hard, pushing insistently up, its swollen head rubbing on the fabric of Jack's breeches.

"Yesss." Jack's muscles rippled as he shuddered, though his face remained sharp, feral as a wild animal. "Gods, Jamie, what have ye done to me?"

Norrington could only shake his head. Whatever had been done, had been done to both of them. Though before he'd finished the thought, Jack kissed him. Like drowning. He opened his lips and let go, his hands clutching Jack's shoulders as if they were a spar at sea, and his only hope and refuge and succour. The feel of skin against his own, the heat of the slim, strong body as it held, him, hands touching, smoothing, weaving around him, creating such sensations that he whimpered into the kiss. Jack growled in response and his tongue delved deeper, taking him, shocking him with the need it exposed in himself. In the abject desire.

Teeth bit into his lower lip and the pain was simply pleasure. He bared his own and bit back, sucking Jack's flesh, licking as his own hands tore into shoulder muscles and his hips thrust forward to be met and matched, heat for heat. He dragged his mouth away, and stared at Jack wide eyed.

Norrington cupped Jack's hardness, watching avidly as all the laziness snapped from the dark eyes. He hardly recognised his own voice it was so low, breathy. "Take them off."

And Commodore Norrington knelt, his hands fumbling clumsily to undo the buttons that fastened the pirate's breeches. The sunset had to be glorious, for Jack stood in a pool of rose-gold light; light the colour of treasure, or purity. The colour of haloes and incense. All the scars and inked patterns that marked his body stood out starkly, the ship that sailed across his flesh speeding through the waves as his chest rose and fell with harsh, panting breaths, the scars on his arm twisting as he clutched the air. Another button and his head fell back. Another and his cock was finally free, bouncing up eager as a hound in full flight.

Pulling the fabric down, scenting soap as well as spice, James ran his hands down the long legs. The breeches pooled at Jack's brown feet, then were kicked away. Moaning, Norrington leant forward and kissed a thigh; lightly haired, the muscle spasmed under his touch. Another kiss, higher this time, and Jack cursed him, soft and sibilant, potent and fluent. A smile then, though he was just as eager, just as tight wound, but he had this moment. And his lips traced up, brushing a vein, the dip where thigh met groin, the scratchy darkness of hair that cupped the eager length of spearing flesh.

A hand touched his head, gentle for all that it trembled with its restraint. Obedient, he kissed, just there. One dry brush of lips on doe-soft skin. Another, this time with his breath behind it. Another, and he opened wide, and sucked the tip, and just the tip, mouthing the head, back and forth, letting it pop in and out of his mouth as he licked slowly into the weeping slit. Back and forth, rocking his head until he felt the hand jerk hard against his head, the fingers digging in, pulling him back, away.

The boards rough against his knees, James gasped. "Yes." Jack bent to him, kissed his lips again, licked the taste of himself from within them and around them. "Come, up with you." The whisper was against his cheek, and James moved, standing, hands aiding him as he swayed giddily.

The bed was so close. He fell back, pushed, guided, brought down. The light slanting in the window blinded him, and he could only feel as he was turned and Jack's body settled against him.

"Christ, Jack." He could hear his own desperation threaded in the words, in his voice. "Fuck me. I want to feel you."

"Ah, how can you? Jesus, yes, I want you so much I'll kill you if you don't do it."

"Yesss... " And Jack pressed him tight to the bed, and a mouth was kissing his back, sliding down, biting as it went, making him start and jerk at each press of sharp teeth, making his cock leak against the sheets, untouched, trapped. A bite on his arse made him cry out, but then the biting stopped and instead the mouth was licking, sucking his skin, sliding down, into his cleft and into his hole. He groaned, clutching at the bed, the sheets, finding a pillow and using it as an anchor as the tongue—so hot, so hard, so bloody skilled—fucked him. Inside him. And that thought alone made him sob, his face buried in the pillow, his teeth biting hard at the cotton.

Never had he imagined. Never. Overwhelming, outrageous, so good. He could feel Jack's nose buried in his cleft, feel every swipe of tongue, every intrusion, each one deeper than the other, each one opening him, until he felt stripped, peeled, every inch of his skin a mass of sensation.

The air was cold when the face moved. Norrington whimpered and clutched his pillow as Jack braced himself over him.

Was that bad? From somewhere he found the will to turn his head, to look in Jack's eyes. "Sorry... "

Arching over him, Jack kissed his shoulder, then his mouth, hungrily. When he leant back, his eyes were sloe-black. "Don't be."

Hot, hard flesh slid between his arse cheeks and James gasped. "Yes... Jack, I want this."

No words, but the mouth kissed him once more, hard on the pad of muscle where his shoulder met his back, just where he knew the scars were worst, and suddenly Jack was braced over him one handed, the other sliding over his hole, finding it, pressing his cock-head to it. "It'll hurt, but not for long." And he pressed in.

Biting down on his lip, James arched off the bed. A hand slid around his chest, cradling him sweetly as the cock ripped him open. The pain was like nothing else. It burned, tore, clawed at him, opening him body and soul as he was claimed. There was no air, no breath. Then Jack moved again and James was panting, heaving air into his lungs, crying out as Jack, his own body shuddering, pushed hard, and somehow was deep inside. They lay still, panting. Sweat dripped onto James' neck, and the pain slowly dissipated.

James nodded, though even that movement spiked pain from his arse. He groaned. "Jack, please... "

He felt the nod. And the deep breath that Jack took. Then with a slow slide, he felt the thickness that impaled him move; back then forth, slow as the tide. He expected the same unutterable pain, but instead there was something that felt close to pleasure. Almost sobbing, he clutched the pillow, the cotton absorbing the sweat that stung his eyes, his teeth biting down as the slide began again, and he felt pain that slipped to pleasure, and then back, though each time it was sweeter, until he moaned, and his head lifted, for all he felt was the wholeness of being possessed, and the perfect completion of being taken.

Jack moved his braced hands, mattress dipping, and the penetration deepened. Suddenly James moaned, for this time there was intense, sudden pleasure that flowered through him.

Oh, he saw. Felt. There was still the foreignness of being so stretched and filled, the pain of it too, but there was more. Curious, he flexed his arse, and heard Jack curse him. Though he thought it a good thing, so he did it again.

And Jack fucked him slow and deep, until the hard strokes lifted his cock, made it stiff where the pain had stripped arousal away. Raw, scraped between his stomach and the sheet, it was suddenly painful in its need. "Jack, please... I need... "

Still joined, with Jack's balls tight and scratchy against his own, he lifted slowly, until he was kneeling, braced on his elbows. Jack's mouth was on his neck, biting hard as he slammed in again. James clawed at the bed and screamed as Jack's hand gripped his length, stripping him back, thumb digging hard into his slit. Once, twice, the charm was there and as the strong hand pumped him and the thick cock rode him, he came, Jack's name stuttering from his lips, his whole body breaking in the waves that ran through him, through the pain and the overriding pleasure and the racking pulses of his seed shooting up from his balls.

Guided, he sat up, moaning softly as the cock in him seemed to slide even deeper. Jack was sucking his neck, moaning words that were indistinguishable. Still hard in Jack's hand, his cock seemed to spasm, and as Jack flexed his hips and took his own pleasure, the world turned to scarlet and James came again, spattering seed high as he felt the heat of Jack's filling him inside, and he heard the indescribable delight of his name on those lips, being screamed in pleasure as Jack came.

Jack lifted and breath became easier. He shivered when the softened cock slid from his arse, and the warmth of spilled seed seeped out onto his thighs.

Too lethargic to think of anything else, he lay still as the mattress dipped, and after a moment Jack returned with a damp cloth that he swiped gently between his cheeks. Turning onto his side, James watched as Jack cleaned himself, then tossing the cloth away climbed back onto the bed, settling at James' side. James smiled at him, though the other man was frowning slightly.

"Oh, please." He laughed softly, breathily as his body reacted in strange and interesting ways to the movement. "I liked it." He considered. "No, I didn't like it, I adored it. You think I have release like that every time?"

Jack ceased frowning. "That's true, you did sound content enough." He settled back and slid an arm under James' shoulders, bringing him closer. Without reluctance, Norrington rolled onto his side, one arm around Jack's waist, his hand stroking gently over a faint ridge of scarring.

The sun had long set, and the cabin was lit by flickering candlelight. James lifted his hand and traced a pattern onto golden skin, nothing determined, just a twisting shape that his fingertips found pleasing. The scarring was quite deep. He wondered idly what it was. Or what the story would be: shark, dragon, Scylla.

Ah, god. Poor man... "Jack." He lifted his head and looked into calm, sane eyes. "Who put you there?"

"Bedlam is the place for all lunatics, firestarters and sodomites!" He was clearly quoting someone. "I managed to fit on all three counts."

"Maybe two, but you're not mad, Jack. You sail your own line, but you've no madness in you."

"There is. Sometimes. Back there I was worse. The city hated me, and I hated it. I burned my father's house. At the time it seemed eminently sensible."

He smiled, sad for the Jack who had lived in chains. Glad that he had flown free. "Not anything, as such... "

"Aye, most things." The pirate was grinning in a most self satisfied way. James poked him, just under the ribs. "No taking advantage!"

Which seemed remarkably unlikely, but not altogether unpleasant. With a smile of his own, James settled back, his hand around the scars he had found, his touch tender, his own aching wrists clear enough knowledge of how harsh the making of those deep scars had to have been.

In the quiet, with the wind lifting and the Pearl once again sliding through the waves, Jack slept. Pressed tight to his chest, James lay awake, half drowsing, listening to the heart beating under his ear, to the waves as they swept by and the whispers of the ship herself, her timbers chattering softly through the night. One by one the candles guttered, and he may have slept himself, for at some point, Jack was gone and, when he looked up, fresh candles were being lit, one by one by a naked Jack Sparrow. Uncurling, James watched him unashamedly. Slim and strong, his skin was golden, the dark hair black in the half-light. He was lovely. Not mad at all. But it was easy to see how he could seem so.

James nodded, and watched as Jack slipped past the curtain, returning after a moment with a bottle and two glasses. "Rum?"

He laughed softly, though it faded into a wince as he sat up and his spine took his weight.

"Ah, looks like you need it. Rum cures all ills." Jack ignored the glare directed at him. "Honest, 'tis true."

The headboard was a lovely place to rest. "Give me some then, Sparrow. I think you might have damaged me."

Blithe, Jack sat on the bed next to him, and poured a glass. "I checked. No blood."

"Drink." James obeyed. The first sip was delicious. As was the second. Somehow he was at the bottom of the glass. The rum's warmth spread through him happily, and he sighed lushly, turning his head to Sparrow. "You're right."

"I will." He thought about it. A pattern inked on his skin. Not if he was going back to his old life, but if he stayed. If there was a place here. If he could live with being nothing but a pirate's... what? Whore, companion, lover, fellow pirate for God's sake? No, not that.

"Oh. Well, you could have anything you wanted." Jack refilled James' glass, and his own before putting the bottle down on the table at the bedside. "Birds." Which earned a frown. "Beasts, ships, words—how about 'mother' in flowing script? No? Oh well, Um, you could have something nautical, like an anchor, or naked wench. The men are fond of those, especially the ones who're too ugly to see the real thing."

"Maybe a sparrow, like yours, but not in flight. A little sparrow sitting in a tree. Or two sparrows!" He giggled softly at the idea. Then he remembered something. "You know, sparrows stand for lechery?"

"I chose it. My real name's very boring and doesn't stand for lechery at all, more like deathly boredom and high-toned morality."

A question lingered in James' mind, and because of the rum he asked it. "Why did you burn his house?"

"Because I hated 'im." Jack shrugged, as if it was of no consequence at all, which perhaps it wasn't. "And 'e deserved it."

"Good reasons." James lifted his glass and they toasted the fact, drinking deep.

Taking the glasses, Jack put them away, then he turned back, shifting until he was lying down. He tugged at James' hand. "Come on."

Movement was easier with the rum inside him. In fact nothing really hurt at all. Sighing happily, he wriggled down and curled onto his side to face Sparrow. For a long while he just lay and looked, staring at the pirate's face, at the patterns braided into the fine beard, at the curl of his moustache, the way his eyes seemed so intent, so alive with intelligence even when lazy with sex and sleep. All the while he knew that Jack was examining him in the same way, and he hoped he appeared in some way favoured, though he had no illusions, for he knew he was not a handsome man. If he had been such a thing he would have proposed to Elizabeth the day she turned sixteen. That he hadn't, now only gave him a faint feeling of relief. He hadn't, and so his life had changed and allowed this to happen. Even O'Connell seemed a fair bargain, for this happiness. Though he would have scorned anyone who could have said such a thing at the time. See, Norrington, you'll live through this and the pain will bring you heaven. He'd have laughed long and loud. If he'd been capable, which most of the time had been quite unlikely.

Brought closer, he felt Jack's arousal as their lips met. Hard and wanting though they had not long since spent themselves so well. It was so exquisite to be desired so passionately. His own cock lifted, as eager as a boy's, so it was hot and ready, bumping against its fellow as, quite lazily, Jack slipped his hand between their bodies and clasped both shafts, squeezing as he pressed forward. Gasping into the kiss, James let the pleasure rise over him, the sweetness of it like honey after the rutting that had gone before. Moaning softly, he pulled Jack to him, cupping the firm buttocks, pulling him near as the hand pumped slow and firm, the rhythm so right, so perfect. There was no hurry. He stroked the fine, warm skin under his hand, and kissed, the touch so light it was merely a breath between them, a skimming of skin on skin, of tongue against tongue. Gradually the shift of fist over cock grew faster, more firm. Still slow, it became insistent, the point of no return reached. James heard Jack's quiet breathing snag in his throat, and Jack's cock was pulsing hard along his own, and the body in his arms was shuddering, gasping, with harsh, eager sounds. The heat spilling over his skin was all it took, and James came too, held tight, their seed warm and sticky between them.

Crawling like a sick and palsied man from the bed, he made it to the pisspot but couldn't face anything else. While Jack was up and dressed, humming to himself as he made himself ready, James simply climbed back into bed and groaned.

Leaning over him, Jack smiled wickedly. "Ah, but it will be next time." His hand cupped Norrington's groin through the sheets, and when he felt the reaction he laughed. "See, not dead yet."

He only half awoke when Jack left to go up on deck, though he roused for a kiss that left him drowsy in the cold morning light. It was gone noon when he awoke again. The aches were not so sharp this time, and he managed to rise, wash after a fashion and dress, all without whimpering too much. Using the head was a different matter. Not helped by the amused looks he got from various members of the crew, a few of whom seemed to feel it necessary to impart their own cures and remedies. Which meant that he and Jack (or just Jack, or just himself) had been loud enough for the men to hear what was happening. And his own limping appearance had merely informed all the busybodies exactly what had been done to whom.

It was all acutely embarrassing. But not so that he would have changed a moment. Or that he wouldn't do it again. Just as soon as he stopped shitting fire.

They sailed into a small storm in the late afternoon, and everyone ate cold food, and worked through it, apart from James who took to their cabin and curled up in bed with one of Jack's books. He dozed for a while, then pulled the covers over himself and slept, awaking in the dark, with Jack's cold and wet body against him. Smiling at the familiarity of it all, he warmed the other man, came under his insistent hand, returned the favour and fell asleep remarkably content.

By the following day he felt bright and well. In fact, looking in the mirror gave him hope that the bruises were not in fact permanent. His arse felt better too. Though he definitely needed to get fucked more often. He was sure that frequent use would make the process less painful. And he was certain too that Jack wouldn't object to the offer.

Taking his book, he dressed and went up on deck, and shirt and breeches were so much quicker to don than the layers of his uniform. Jack was already there, walking the deck. James greeted him, but went to sit by the rail. Settling on the deck he looked up into the sky and let the warmth toast through him, until he felt rather like a cat basking in the sun. He was already losing his pallor, and that was good; though his pale skin would never brown like Sparrow's, it could at least look less pasty. He even contemplated removing his shirt, but decided against it as the idea of sitting half naked in full view of everyone was just a little beyond him.

As yet. For he knew he was changing. Knew that everything that had anchored him to his past was being cut away: duty, obedience, decorum, morality, religion. It seemed as if it all suddenly meant so little, when he had the open sea, the brightness of the sunlight and the even brighter light that was a tatty pirate.

Jack settled next to him, looking warm, happy, the paint dark under his eyes today. "Your men don't seem to mind what I do. Or what we do... "

"The best cure for that is to do it again." Jack turned to face him, fingers playing with the long strands of beads that framed his face. "Often, Jamie, often."

A few words and he was stiff. The man was a sorcerer. James nodded and tried to answer evenly. "I guessed that might be the case."

"Good." Ah, that smile. It shot pleasure down to the very soles of his feet. "So, ye thinks that might be a good course to sail?"

"Good." Jack grinned, as self-satisfied as it was possible to look. "I hoped ye might be agreeable."

Now that got a good reaction, as the heat in Jack's eyes intensified. James allowed himself his own moment of satisfaction, and grinned before opening the book and pretending to read.

Jack peered over his shoulder and a long finger stroked the book, tracing a line of words. "Watch out for the Sirens."

Turning, staring into his eyes, James shook his head. "Too late, I seem to have found one."

"Do you?" The scrutiny lingered, then something like fear flickered in the dark, striated pupils, and disconcertingly, Jack blinked and turned away. "Jamie, how d'ye fancy a stroll on land. We've got to replenish water and wood for the galley, so we're anchoring in a small bay sometime tomorrow. It'll take the men a few hours to collect everything, so we could wander off."

Immediately distracted, James found his mouth to be dry. "Wander off." So much to anticipate in those two words. "Inspect the lie of the land?"

"Perfectly." The idea of coupling in the open air was debauched, and utterly delicious. "I've never, you know, outside."

Jack looked almost comically surprised. "Then we have to!" He paused thoughtfully and tapped his chin. "On a nice grassy bit, sand's no respecter of nooks and crannies."

"Goodness me, Jamie, such hedonism. And yes, we could. And should!" He stood up, brushing off his breeches. "Well, I'd better go and do some captaining, or AnaMaria will be making dolls of me too." And with that cryptic comment he wandered off, striding across his deck with a proprietorial air.

Amused, James opened the book again. But the words blurred, and all he kept thinking about was the fear he had seen in Jack's eyes.

When he was sobbing, so close to release that his hips were straining upwards, Jack left off suckling at his balls, and moved to straddle his shoulders, pinning him down, arse settled on his chest, cock hard as it stabbed the air in front of his face.

Squeezing his own balls, Jack arched back. In the shadows he looked sleek as a seal, his skin shiny with sweat, his face tilted back as he held himself tight, pulling downward as his cock bobbed and dripped. James reached with his mouth, licking at the pearly trails of seed, wanting more, groaning with a need that was beyond him to deny. Beyond Jack to deny him as well. For the hand slipped upwards and gripped the cock by its root, pushing it down with a thumb to tease it over James' lips. Suckling and licking at the tantalising nearness, James whimpered, and was rewarded by more. He opened wide and took it, sucking hard, his mouth stretched as Jack pushed deeper, his fisted hands pressed to the bed either side of James' head, his body hunched as his hips twitched. Looking up, James met his eyes, met the need and the desperation. Fingers carded into his hair, held him, urged him on. He choked and panicked, then with a surge of air in his lungs took more. Wanted more. He could feel Jack shaking, as if his whole body was locked in struggle, not move or to not move, the hand unsteady in his hair, stroking, clutching, trembling as if with ague, until he stiffened, and his cock swelled in James' mouth, pulsing as his balls drew tight and he came hard, leaving James time only to breath and swallow, to gag unevenly as his mouth was used solely for Sparrow's pleasure.

Immediately it was done, Jack moved, and was suddenly at his side, holding him, kissing him, licking the spilled spunk from his cheek, from his gasping mouth. A dip of the mattress and he was sucking James into him, eating his cock, sucking and moaning, so that James could hardly breathe or think as his body arched off the bed and he screamed his pleasure, sobbing out loud Jack's name.

Licked, kissed, released, he groaned blissfully as Jack came back to his side, and wrapped his arms tight around him.

And all the fear was there, clear in the harshly spoken words. James stroked his face, kissed his lips lightly as he voiced his own fear. "For how long?"

"Give up what you were, stay with me. I'll not steal again from any honest man. I'll be good to ye. Good as I can be."

The temptation was so strong it was hardly anything other than a decision. But...

"What would I be, Jack? Your whore? I love you, but I couldn't be nothing more than your bed-warmer."

A hand gripped his chin and wild eyes glittered close to his face. "Never just that. Share the Pearl with me, she likes you, talks to you as she does to me. You know she does. Sail at my side and we'll explore the world, head south, past the China seas and look for mermaids, hunt sea-monsters, dive for pearls. I care not. Just stay."

And, smiling, Jack kissed him, the accord sealed. Wrapped together they lay for a long time, whispering in the darkness, as the ship sang softly around them.

With a sudden splash Jack reared up out of the water, sea streaming from his chest like ropes of seaweed, droplets like pearls in his hair. If he'd had a long fishy tail James would not have been at all surprised, but as he waded through the shallows there was no doubt he had legs. No doubt that he was a human male at all, really.

"What are you thinking about?" Jack sank down beside him, water dripping everywhere.

"Nice thoughts?" He turned, and his eyes crinkled with amusement. The bastard already knew the answer.

"I think so." But who could begrudge him his confidence? Not James, and certainly not the sea, which seemed to love him, or his crew or the Pearl. Whatever his origins, Jack Sparrow had found his place. "I think most of the new supplies are loaded."

He watched Jack stare across at the elegant shape of his ship. Two rowboats plied their way between her and the shore, carrying barrels of freshwater and fruit. Distantly, over the soft rumble of the waves, he could hear the sound of a penny-whistle.

In fact they were more or less alone. James relaxed until he lay flat. The sand was warm under him, and he stared up at the sky through a pattern of palm leaves. It was blue as blue, patterned here and there with leaves or clouds, like something from a child's storybook. After a moment Jack lay back as well. His arm touched James', the skin feeling chilly against his own. Curling onto his side, James stroked the damp, sandy skin with one finger. It made Jack's skin lift into goosebumps. "The weather'll turn soon."

"Maybe so, my Commodore, but at least I don't have a raging tumescence in full view of the Pearl—you know she'll blush."

James just grinned, lazily. "I've my breeches on. And besides, none of your crew are going to bother looking at us."

"Ah, now I see how you became an officer. For a while I thought you'd slept your way to rank—hey!" The finger stopped stroking and poked him, hard. Jack grinned, gold teeth ablaze in the sunlight. "Just teasing!" The finger swept over his nipple and he gasped sharply. "Oh, unfair play... "

"Yes. I've had enough of war. Enough of warring with you. Very well, let us to the China seas—you can show me sea monsters."

"If you don't stop—that!—yes that, with the... oh... nipple." James smiled sweetly. Jack curled his legs up. "Damn you, yes that! We'll be doing more than lying on the beach and the crew will be educated along with the tree crabs and the gulls."

James sighed. He lifted his finger and shook his head regretfully. "And there I was thinking you'd walk a little way inland with me, and maybe you'd find the time." He tapped once, lightly at the dark nipple. "The energy." A stroke this time that made Jack gasp. "The inclination as well I'm thinking." He bent and his lips pressed to the tight-drawn flesh, holding there until a moan was torn from Jack's throat. "To fuck me again." Though the words were muffled, it was clear from the other man's reaction that he'd heard them quite well. A nip of his teeth and James leant back. Jack was glassy-eyed, and his cock was stiff, rosy hued and weeping. "What d'you say?"

"And now he wants words? All right then. I am going to fuck you long and hard. I may let you go before it gets dark, but then again... " The teeth gleamed. "Maybe I won't."

And there was truth there. James nodded solemnly, and standing, he reached down to pull Jack up to him. "Good. I will hold you to many of them, Mister Sparrow." And stepping close he kissed the pirate hard. Distantly he heard cheering and a few choice words drifted past on the breeze. He didn't care. Nothing mattered now, not really. Nothing except this. James was smiling as he stepped back. "So, until dark then?"

"Aye." Jack laughed then, and, his hand still clasped with another, turned towards the island and started walking. "Coming?"

Diving for Pearls

Chapter 10