Fathoms 4

Grace

by

Manic Intent

They kept near reefs and shallows as much as they could, wary of the open sea still. No more frightening midnight visits from ex-crew members, however, and no resurgence of black spots made Jack feel increasingly more reassured. It was likely that Davy Jones had gone back to searching the island for the heart after looking through the Pearl, and so they had some sort of head start, at least.

He weighed anchor at a reef in the afternoon, as the winds dropped and the current threatened to pull them off course. Norrington looked down at the sea, then the sky, and finally at the furling sail, then shrugged and went back to his book.

Jack pouted. Why, that...

The water was beautifully clear, and for a moment Jack forgot his irritation at currently unattainable ex-Commodores as he looked over the rail. Gaily hued fish darted around gorgeous lattices of coral in colours rich enough to rival any forest on the land. Translucent pink and cream sea anemones fluttered in the water under shoals of tiny, silvery fish, like molten glass as they rippled in perfect harmony with each other. Larger fish lurked closer to the coral, stately and still, only their fins flickering. The sea was his mistress, for there could be no woman living who could match such beauty. Above, sea birds wheeled and called to each other, suggesting that land was close by.

The reef suggested to Jack a mischievous method of revenge that could be had right at this moment, without breaking his word (not that he had actually agreed to anything, but his Jamie likely would take a dim view of that, with his so very Navy need for promises, accords, agreements). Besides, the day was getting fairly balmy...

He began whistling as he shed his clothes onto the deck, carefully folding the torn shirt over the urchin bone and compass to hold them in place, then slipped off his boots, and finally the hat, placed lovingly on the pile of clothes. The pirate didn't need to check on Norrington to know that he held the other man's full attention.

"What are you doing?" Wariness.

"M' takin' a swim, Jamie-luv, 'till th'wind comes back our way," Jack replied mildly. "An' I don't 'ave a pair of spare pants."

Norrington hastily looked back at his book, swallowing. Jack grinned wickedly, totally unselfconscious as he climbed up onto the rail and dived into the cool water. Tattoos shifted as he swam, effortless and supple as a seal, just as home in the sea as over it, playfully chasing shoals of fish, only surfacing briefly for air. He could almost feel those pretty green eyes burning into his back, but purposefully pretended not to notice. Experience with what stung or bit back and what didn't let him play with relative safety, running fingers over velvety coral, poking at clams that snapped shut in agitation.

Just as he was beginning to bore of the game, rope slapped into the water next to his face as he surfaced, knotted to the rail on the side of the gangway. Norrington had apparently disappeared. Frowning, Jack climbed back up to the ship, and then relaxed when he saw that the other man had simply moved away such that the mast blocked any possible view of Jack.

"Th'water's great, Jamie. Sure ye don't want t'join me?"

"No, thank you." Clipped, and cold, formally polite, from somewhere behind the mast.

"M' going t'try an' fish up some lunch."

"Suit yourself."

Jack replaced only his scarf, sea urchin spine and tricorn hat, padding below decks to locate a fishing pole and something he could use for bait. Shredded bread seemed adequate, and he went back up, perched on the rail above his clothes, and cast his line, waiting for the sun to dry him out.

Two more casts, and finally, "Jack."

"What?"

"At least put on a towel."

"T'aint nothin' ye don't 'ave or 'aven't seen, Jamie-luv. 'Sides, ye don't 'ave t'look if ye don't like it." Jack allowed his voice to sound slightly accusatory, as if he resented any notion of the so-called propriety upon which Norrington seemed to place so much importance.

A long-suffering sigh, but silence.

After his first catch, Jack finally deemed the drying salt on his skin annoying enough to be a bother, and rubbed himself off brusquely with the torn shirt before shaking it out and putting it on, followed by the rest of his possessions. "Hungry?"

"No." Positively icy, now. Jack wouldn't have been surprised if the deck started to freeze over.

"Suit yerself." Jack grinned as he looked over the other's tense frame. "T'wouldn't be me fault if ye starve t'death."

Norrington's only response was a soft growl.

In the end, Jack relented enough to share. Grilled fish, bread and cheese (the latter two sliced a little haphazardly) and a glass of wine were brought back up for Norrington after he had eaten his fill. "'Ere. I knows yer not hungry, but t'aint right t'have fresh fish go t'waste, 'specially since ye might decide ye ain't not hungry after all an' 'ave the fish not go t'waste, which it would now."

"Thank you." Norrington looked up at the peace offering, then back at his book.Jack watched him in silence for a moment, and then placed the food and drink within reach, scratching absently at his beard, wondering if he'd pushed Norrington too far with his latest antics. "Jack."

"Now what?"

"The wine." Norrington looked up with a faint smirk. "White with fish, Jack. In most cases."

The breeze that signaled the resurgence of the wind probably was the only thing that could (and did in fact do so) have saved Norrington from having red dyed into his already disreputable shirt.

"I'm not sure what that would accomplish," Norrington replied dryly. "Even if Davy Jones and his crew somehow find us, and mean to kill us in our sleep by somehow managing to stealth aboard this ship, we have an excellent means of negotiation." He frowned at Jack's sudden grin. "Am I missing something?"

"I feel exactly th'same! Let's retire."

Norrington didn't get up. "We agreed..."

"That I don't make any attempts on yer virtue. I can share th'bed an' still keep me promise, Jamie. Nothin' 'appened to 'Lizabeth when we were on that island, see? 'Course, if yer worried about yer own self-control..." He fluttered his fingers in a salacious gesture, while he arched an eyebrow in obvious challenge.

The ex-Commodore rose to his feet in a fluid move, and stretched, glancing up at the clouds that scudded over the pattern of stars. When he looked back at Jack, smoldering green eyes held an answering challenge, his (so kissable) lips set in a mischievous twist. "Not at all. Regarding yours, on the other hand, Captain Sparrow..." He made as though to walk towards the cabin, but as he brushed past Jack, leaned closer so warm breath framed his purred whisper, "... I admit that I am beginning to entertain some doubts."

Jack stood alone on deck for a while after Norrington had left, taking a deep breath and reminding himself that Captain Jack Sparrow never lost a dare, nor broke his word when sworn on his Pearl. No matter how tempting it would be, pretty ex-Commodores be damned.

However, he was definitely not above cheating, within reason.

"Jack..." An irritated hiss. The pirate in question buried his face in the nape of Norrington's neck, and yawned ostensibly. As much as he definitely wanted to jump the other man's bones right at this moment, he could be as patient as any cat if he had to be, and he was determined to win this little game, using any number of dirty tricks in his considerable repertoire. Besides, it wasn't unpleasant, just holding the other man like this—when lust wasn't present to color intimacy. Try as he might, Jack could only faintly recall the last time he had been able to hold another person like this.

"Sweet dreams, Jamie."

A muttered stream of words that even at this proximity, Jack could not catch, but which ended with "...Insufferable."

He grinned into Norrington's neck, and drifted into a shallow sleep.

Norrington was obviously mapping his body in what light was provided by the moon, keeping up the petting while his other hand ran curious fingers over cheekbone and chin, feather-light touches that randomly explored the valleys between ringed fingers, delicate knuckles, and the bridge of Jack's nose. A finger traced his lips, then his brow, and then examined one string of beads slowly as though memorizing their patterns and texture. Jack even managed, somehow, to keep from purring when warm lips pressed against the curve of his shoulder, and from protesting when all touch was abruptly withheld. 'Lizabeth would never know what she was missing.

"Beautiful." The barest whisper, bemusement edged with sadness. Then the bed shifted again as Norrington seemed to carefully get out without touching him further, padding away. Jack waited until the man seemed to have moved out of hearing range, then groaned, turned over to bury his face in a pillow, and curse fluently in at least two languages. What was the point of the damned agreement when his Jamie had to go and do these... these... things to him at night? Muttering to himself, Jack started on his third language of curses when his frustrated brain reminded him that Norrington had in fact been gone a mite longer than was required for a call of nature.

Curious, Jack rolled out of the warm bed and skulked over to the door, opening it as softly as he could, and sidling out onto deck. No signs of large, seaweed crusted ships with far too many guns than was remotely possible, check. No attractive ex-Commodores, either. Jack scowled absently out in the direction of the island, and then checked on the lifeboat. Still there. No sounds of splashing which would suggest a midnight swim.

Extremely curious now, and a little worried, Jack padded back below deck, stealthily checking through all the cabins, the galley, before slowly descending into the hold, careful to step on the edges of the stair and make as little noise as possible. Heavy breathing suggested that Norrington was somewhere in the darkness, though some distance from the stairs. Jack settled down to listen—eavesdropping was merely the sign of the cautious.

Breathing punctuated by soft gasps that roughened quickly into what seemed like sobs, and a thump of what was likely Norrington's head against the wood. Jack frowned for a moment, wondering whether or not to make his presence known or leave, then blinked when, hidden in the dark, his Jamie moaned his name. He recognized this sequence—though the eventual soft cries were knife-edged with pain that seemed soul-deep, beyond Jack's ability to fully grasp. "Jack... God, Jack... please..." A litany that plucked both at his heart and at his groin. Jack had to shift uncomfortably when with a hiss and a sob; it seemed Norrington found his absolution. His kohl-rimmed eyes stung, and he felt dizzy with unwanted knowledge that seemed too difficult to sort out. Not just want then, is it, Jamie?

The heavy breathing abruptly stopped at the faint creak that Jack's weight made as the pirate attempted to leave as stealthily as he had arrived, however, and Jack grimaced in panic.

"Jack?" Tense shock.

Jack fled.

That frightened him far more than anything else at the moment, even the possibility of murderously angry ex-Commodores—he even developed a cold sweat, shivering despite the relatively warm breeze that tugged at his hair, and he waved his hands agitatedly at the sea, speaking softly, but urgently. "T'was an accident, missy! Didn't mean t'walk in on him like that, I did! M' worried when I didn't see him on deck, t'was all!"

There was that definite feminine sense of exasperation, then Jack's mind pictured the skinny dip and the nude fishing, the cuddling and other relevant facts in such crystal clear detail that it was obviously touched by the supernatural—in this case, a pissed-off ship. Harmless flirting only, that was! And it wasn't as though his Jamie would have expected him to simply behave himself. That wasn't the bargain, after all, was it?

Jack flinched as the sense of irritation against him seemed to worsen. Bad, bad... he never recalled his Pearl having been this annoyed with him ever before.

"That? That was just me 'avin' some fun, t'was all—no more fun than 'e 'ad at me expense before," Jack was aware that he was whining, and smoothed his voice somewhat. "I'm sorry, missy. All this... this thinkin'... an' th'eggshell dancin' on prickly, t'aint me finer point at all. An' who's t'know 'e gets mad so easy?"

"I'm not angry," Norrington said quietly somewhere behind him. In his shock, Jack nearly fell off his perch and into the sea, but he recovered, refusing to look back.

"M' sorry." A low laugh. "M' seem t'be sayin' that a lot."

Jack felt Norrington nod against his hair, as the other man pressed behind him and loosely encircled his waist with long arms. Which, he noted idly, as he automatically leaned back into the embrace, had been fastidiously wiped clean. "You just surprised me." A deep breath born of embarrassment. "If... if I'd woken up in the night and you were gone, it was likely that I would have gone looking for you, as well." The faltering, so British voice turned wry, amused. "Though I feel that I should be hurt, that what you're upset about is that your... ship is apparently annoyed with you. And not that I may be so."

"One thing at a time, mate," Jack muttered, resting his palms on warm skin. "See, I can make it up t'ye, since yer here an' all. But I can only speak t'her if she feels like. That makes apologisin' real difficult if she don't want to 'ear it."

Norrington chuckled against his back, shaking his head slightly. "I find that to be the case with women, in general." Jack blinked as his shirt was eased down over his shoulders, to his elbows, long fingers briefly tracing the fine threads where buttons had been ripped free. Then soft kisses were being pressed to his shoulders, lingering over the curves and the nape of his neck. Jack immediately forgot his next question regarding Norrington's experience with women, 'Lizabeth excluded, and arched his back slightly with a gasp.

"Thought ye didn't want any..." fingers tapped at empty air as his increasingly clouding brain tried to come up with words, "... debauchin' goin' on before we reach Tia Dalma."

"That was the plan, yes," Norrington agreed mildly, lips settling on the juncture of shoulder and neck and sucking hard for a moment, then licking the reddened mark that likely appeared. Jack moaned, then whimpered as lips and tongue began to explore his spine.

"If ye keep this up, Jamie-luv, there's going t'be debauchin', an' then some, right now," he warned breathlessly, "An' t'wouldn'a be me fault, since ye started it."

"No, Jack, you did," the bland voice was now a growl, within which the undercurrent of want and frustration was deep, causing heat to pool down in Jack's groin. "Going about without your clothes on in the afternoon. All that shameless flirting. Prancing about on deck, like any whore out of Tortuga, and just as unashamed." Jack gasped as the warm tongue ran back up to his nape, then whimpered as fingers began to tease and flick at his nipples. "There's a limit as to what I can take."

"T'wasn't an actual attempt on yer virtue, mate. Since tha'd be in th'sense o' me possibly tryin' t'initiate some sort o'... oh God... physical sort o' entanglement, rather than just 'aving... 'aving a swim an' fishin' fer our lunch, which 'ad nothin' t'do wi' the actual attemptin' an'..."

"Jack. Shut up." A firm rub down the fabric over his swelling shaft, then Jack was gently turned about. Seated, Jack was just about on face level with Norrington, which his Jamie proved was very convenient, as he leaned forward to kiss him, tugging at his lower lip with teeth momentarily, then that clever tongue ran over his teeth. His hands constrained by the pooled shirt, which seemed a little hard to shrug off at the moment with impaired concentration, could only run frantically over ribs and belly. Norrington gasped breathlessly into a kiss as Jack wrapped his legs around him and yanked him closer, the heat in his breeches likely evident against his stomach.

"Yer... yer not goin' t'be mad after this, are ye?" Jack managed to get out when Norrington drew back to explore his neck, then an old cutlass wound high on his chest. "Seein' as we don't agree on th'point o' fault."

Norrington glanced up at him for a moment. Green eyes danced with mischief now, even as they were dark with lust. "Are you worried about whether I would be upset with you, and those consequences, or are you worried about your Pearl?"

"Both!" The word a strangled yelp as Norrington turned his attention to a nipple, showing that he was a quick study, the previous day's lessons being well learned indeed. Even if he showed a tendency to nip. Of which it wasn't as though Jack was actually objecting, if he could indeed muster the concentration to do any objecting through the heavy fog of need. He bucked insistently into fingers that fumbled with his breeches, and then sucked in a gasp as they were yanked down to his knees, and he was pulled forward to the edge of the rail.

Norrington grasped his hips with both hands, squeezing them gently to get the pirate to meet his eyes. "So. Is this the point where I should be upset that I am about on par with a sunken pirate ship in your opinion? And maybe lower, in fact?"

Jack stared at him, open-mouthed, speechless for one of the few times in his life, mouth working as he attempted to come up with a suitable reply. Norrington smirked, and then purred, "Consider this a bid for your attentions, Captain Jack Sparrow."

Back arched, legs braced as he leaned down, to lave the rosy length in one stroke, then leisurely swirl back down. Jack's brain quit the scene, the pirate shoving fingers into Norrington's hair, hips prevented from bucking. Distantly he realized the whimpers and whines were from his throat. "More. More, Jamie. Oh God..." this last blasphemous word choked in his throat as Norrington pushed his tongue under the foreskin, then back up to flick against the fleshy head. Again with the nips, though careful and gentler, back down the shaft, then sucking kisses on the way back up. Jack's entire body began to tremble as he watched—so beautiful, his Jamie, the occasional flash of a pink tongue, the slight, unconscious frown of concentration, cheeks flushed with want.

The pirate jerked and all but howled up at the moon when with a final, playful lick, Norrington swallowed him, allowing him to be enveloped slowly in wet heat. Not all the way to the hilt, but enough to make Jack writhe impatiently under the grip on his hips. "James. Jamie... more... more, now!"

The answering, muffled chuckle caused him to pulse with need, as Norrington simply began to suckle him, throat working, still preventing him from bucking through dint of superior strength. Still, although lacking in some of the finer points that Jack had learned in his many travels, it was enough to push him to the edge, his cries heedless of dignity or pride, incoherent, almost animal-like, fingers pulling at chocolate brown tresses in a warning. Norrington drew back until he only held the head in his mouth, flicking the slit with his tongue, one hand coming up to roughly pull and squeeze at the slicked shaft, until Jacks threw back his head and let out a rough yell. "God, James...!"

Release was so sweet. Somewhere in the warm haze he could feel Norrington lapping him clean, then pulling him close and nuzzling his neck, chuckling softly. When he had enough of a grasp of his brain from wherever it had melted, he murmured, "What's so funny?"

"The bid, Jack."

Jack groaned. "Ye 'spect me t'think right now?" Absently, automatically, he felt for the presence of his Pearl, then slumped slightly in relief. At least she was no longer annoyed at him, just curious.

Thankfully, Norrington didn't press the issue, only chuckled again, irritatingly self-satisfied. Jack wasn't sure he could pull together enough of his mind to balance both his Pearl's sensitivities and those of an ex-Commodore in his answer. After a few more deep breaths of the night breeze, the remaining tension in the other man and the scent of what they had just done reminded Jack of something he'd forgotten. He touched his hands to the laces of Norrington's breeches, looking up at him questioningly.

"That would likely count as an attempt on my virtue," Norrington chided him mildly, though his eyes and body gave an absolutely different signal—coiled, like a big cat about to spring, narrowed eyes just as predatory.

"Actually, 'm suggestin' tha' u make a further an' more thorough attempt on mine," Jack replied just as blandly, and innocently. "Seein' as ye 'ave th'better o' old Jack at th' moment."

"Ah, but that would defeat the purpose of the agreement in the first place, which was to not indulge in intercourse." An arm supported his back; the other stroked a bare thigh, exploring the corded muscle, the curve of the knee, the joint.

"Y'sure it 'as nothin' to do wi' driving an' old pirate crazy?"

"I doubt you can get any madder than you already are, Jack." A light kiss on sashed forehead. "Soon you'd start talking to this ship as well, and we'd have two women in our lives, of whom both I have never seen."

Jack had to hide his grin at the 'we'. Too quick to speak of leaving and forever, his Jamie, when his subconscious at least was clear on the matter. "Sure ye 'ave."

"As ships."

"Exactly me point. Funny what ye'd believe. Undead pirates an' a submersible ship with crawlies, but not magic ships that can be crewed by men."

"It's a little difficult to disbelieve what's right in front of my eyes," Norrington pointed out. Jack felt him grin against his forehead. "However, seeing as the first person I ever wanted turned out to be in love with a blacksmith, and now the second person seems to be in love with a ship, I do have to wonder if I am moving down the scale, as it were."

"M' Pearl will be terribly annoyed wi' ye if ye rank 'er below th'whelp," Jack poked him in the chest.

"Obsessed with a ship," Norrington corrected himself in a drawl.

"All this is no doubt terribly interesting, but..." Jack tugged suggestively Norrington's belt, looking up in an expression of mute pleading. The other man frowned, baring his teeth slightly in a mute snarl, and then seemed to shake himself out of it.

"No."

"Oh, for God's sake, man..."

A finger on his lips, and that damnable smirk. "Perhaps it would help if you were to contemplate, Jack Sparrow, all nuances of the words 'self-control'." Another kiss on his forehead, then Norrington drew away, chuckling to himself as he went below deck.

Jack growled in frustration. Bloody ex-Commodores...!

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