A Fish Tale

Chapter 7

by

Oasis Herself

He looked down at Jack's face. Last night, he told himself solemnly, I committed sodomy. With a man. With a pirate. With Jack Sparrow, specifically.

He expected to feel... well, many things, actually: guilt, shame, remorse. But of the host of feelings he anticipated, none of them included the wicked thrill and the delicious heated memory of Jack clutching and arching and shuddering in his arms as he'd spent himself into James's hand. Christ, James thought, the man had been so unbelievably tight... and Jack coming undone the way he had, that had been a heady mix.

He tried again. Last night, I fucked Jack Sparrow. His prick only twitched in delighted memory of Jack's hot body. Apparently, James thought wryly, I'd very much like to do it again.

Of course, he reminded himself, there was still Jack's reaction to worry about.

He stayed still and quiet for a few more moments, savoring the warm press of Jack's body against his own, before finally giving him a nudge and a soft, "Jack?"

"Hmmm?"

"It's full morning. Why aren't you up yet?"

Jack twined their tails together and buried his face into the hollow of James's shoulder. "No reason."

"Do you feel all right?"

"Aye."

James fell silent and thoughtfully contemplated the ceiling of the cave. At least Jack hadn't pulled away from him. In fact, he had curled even closer. That was surely a good sign. He absently stroked Jack's hair and tried to ignore the insistent stirrings in his pouch.

"It's good, innit, mate?" Jack asked after a while.

"What is?"

"This. Layin' here together."

James glanced down at him for a moment and then dropped a kiss onto the top of his head. "Yes. Yes it is."

"I wasn't too sure how you'd be feelin' about things this morning." Jack snickered softly and added, "Wasn't too sure how I'd be feelin' about things this morning."

James looked down at him again. "And how do you feel about things this morning?"

"I'm good." Jack paused for a moment and then asked cautiously, "What about yourself?"

"Do you want to go for another swim?"

James felt him smile against his neck. "Yer a right randy bastard, ain't ya?"

"I seem to be becoming one, yes." He dropped his hand to caress along the crease of Jack's buttocks then tilted his head down for a leisurely exploration of Jack's mouth.

When he pulled away finally, Jack sighed against his mouth, "Bloody hell, James, where'd you learn to kiss like that?"

"I suppose it comes of practicing on girls of good social standing who required a more... circuitous approach," James said, grinning down at him sheepishly.

Jack barked out a laugh and wrapped his arms around James. "Well, luv... I'm more'n happy to be the recipient of all that practice."

Both men stilled, the endearment hanging between them, until Jack, grinning wide, swooped up and licked James full across the mouth.

James pushed him down and twisted up onto his side, "Sparrow, you do know you're a savage, don't you?"

"Aye," Jack agreed amiably enough, "and not a lass of any kinda social standing."

"No. You are most certainly not that," James murmured, as he let his hand trail down the length of Jack's body. He could feel the flex and play of muscle beneath the scales as his hand followed the curve of Jack's rump and then back up to the arch of his hip. He pushed Jack flat against the ledge and watched the still novel and improbable sight of his hand—his hand—caressing the flat, undeniably masculine stomach.

He glanced up to find Jack watching him carefully, his expression impassive, but James could see his gills fluttering in a manner that belied the apparent calm. James very deliberately slid his hand down to cup Jack's pouch and could feel the outline of his cock beneath the folds of tissue. He rubbed his thumb back and forth, sliding the slick inner wall over the head of it and marveled to himself at touching another man's prick like this, even indirectly.

"I suppose your not being a lass of social standing greatly improves my chances for success, then, doesn't it?"

Jack levered himself up onto his elbows now, watching James's hand. "Guarantees it, mate," he answered, roughly.

Jack's pouch was beginning to swell and a thin line of clear fluid rimmed the opening. A tiny drop of the fluid escaped and slid along the hollow between stomach and scales. James caught it on his finger and lifted it to his nose to sniff at it.

Earthy, James thought, breathing deeply. Musky, like the rich dark soil one finds beneath the leaves in a cool glen.

"How odd," he murmured, glancing quickly up at Jack, "that a creature of the sea should smell of the earth."

He squirmed down and dropped his head to lie against Jack's stomach, kneaded gently at his pouch and the cock within and just breathed the intoxicating fragrance.

He felt Jack tense beneath his cheek and could see where Jack's hand had clenched into a white-knuckled fist at his side. Jack whimpered softly and rolled his hips, pressing himself up into James's hand.

James kissed his belly. "Shh," he murmured. "God, Jack... you smell so good."

He breathed deeply again and the smell nudged a memory, brought to recall a gray sticky lump of stuff that had once washed up on Port Royal's beach. Ambergris, that had been, and its fragrance had scented the entire beach. This was very similar.

The mad desperation of the night before was missing this morning, James realized, as he stretched and curled his tail around Jack's. He could feel the thrum in his pouch and was deeply aroused, but this delightful sensual pleasure was unexpected... and, blessedly, manageable.

Jack was still propped up on his elbows, but he had dropped his head back on his shoulders and James could hear the rapid rush of air through his gills. He let his fingers play at the tender skin of Jack's stomach and then stroked down in a long languorous sweep of his hand, down the tail as far as he could reach and then back up to tease at the opening of Jack's pouch.

Jack lurched up with a sharp cry at that touch and reached for James's hand. "You might not want to be doing that just yet, luv," he gasped, clutching James's hand, hard to his chest.

James lifted his head to look at Jack. Something about his tone, and...

"What do you mean...yet?"

Jack didn't say anything; he only looked up at him with heavy lidded eyes and then leaned slowly closer to nip at James's chin.

"Jack?"

Jack took James's chin in his mouth and bit down... not hard, he just held him with his teeth. James could feel him panting open mouthed against his skin. James, very suddenly and very clearly, knew exactly what Jack wanted.

He didn't move, and after a moment, Jack released him and pulled back far enough to look into his eyes. "Think I'll be takin' the helm this morning."

"You mean you want to... to..."

"Aye," Jack leaned in again and kissed him gently on the lips. "Need to, luv," he whispered urgently against James's mouth, "like you needed last night."

James stared dumbly at Jack, though his mind scrambled for reasons, excuses, anything to steer Jack away from what he wanted—from what James wasn't sure he was willing to give in return.

"But last night..." he stammered.

"Thought I was real accommodatin' last night, James."

"Yes, but I thought you liked it. I thought you—"

Jack kissed him again, silencing him as his hand crept around to grip and squeeze James's arse. He squirmed closer, arching and rubbing himself against James and then broke the kiss to whisper into his ear, "I did like it... liked it a lot, luv. You know that."

"Then why?"

Jack took a ragged, frustrated breath and pressed his forehead against James's. "Christ," He lifted his head then to meet James's gaze.

"How are ya feelin' this morning, James? Ya still want me, eh?"

"Yes, I thought that was quite clear, Jack...."

"Ah ah ah... but it's not quite the same now for you, is it? It's not that same burnin' fire as last night, is it?"

James looked away. He wanted Jack... desired him. But Jack was right; it wasn't that overwhelming need.

"No," he admitted, slowly. "It's not."

"Well, it is for me," Jack said softly. "an' I need you now, James."

Jack still had James's hand pressed against his chest and now he began to slowly, steadily slide it down his body towards his pouch. He stopped and held it just above the opening, searching James's face. "James?" he asked, his voice was rough with need. "Please..."

James's response was immediate and sharp. "No!"

Jack's eyes narrowed and he released James's hand, lifting his own hand into the air.

"I didn't mean that," James amended quickly and reached for his hand. "I... just, I'm just asking you to wait, Jack." He looked up at the bright sunlight streaming in through the ceiling and then back at Jack. "Not in broad daylight, for God's sake."

Jack tipped his head back and gazed steadily at James with hooded eyes. James could see his tongue working in the corner of his cheek as he thought, worked it all out in his mind. Finally his eyes dropped shut and he took a deep shuddering breath.

"Aye," he muttered heavily, "we'll wait till dark.

James let out a sigh of relief, temporary though it was, and sagged back against the ledge.

Jack reached out and ran his hand slowly along the curve of James's arse. "It's gonna be a long day," he growled and then slipped into the water.

James had been greeted with an enormous pile of shellfish and an exaggeratedly polite, "Your breakfast is ready, Commodore." They hadn't eaten together. Jack had gone off alone and fed directly from the seabed.

He'd had no appetite, and when Jack returned to the rocks, he surveyed the pile in mock dismay. "Food not to your liking, Commodore?"

"I'm not hungry this morning, Jack," James replied.

"Ahhhh... must be all this bright sunlight, eh Commodore?" he sniped, "I've heard it can affect a man's appetite... so to speak."

He slipped off into the water before James could answer him.

It hadn't improved as the morning wore on. Jack's sharp quips only got sharper, and his ability to make the word 'Commodore' sound like the basest and crudest of insults only increased with each use of his title.

When he wasn't making comments from his perch on the end of the rocks, he was glowering at the sun and watching James with dark brooding eyes.

Being denied was not sitting well with Jack at all.

The shame of it, and James knew it full well, was that had it been reversed he would have felt no compunction at all in taking Jack in the full light of day. Jack knew it too.

James sighed and looked out over the cove. It was quiet. The only ones who might possibly see or know would be fish or one of the pod, and they certainly wouldn't be shocked or offended or cast any judgment. In fact, he reminded himself, the pod was already delighted over their union.

What harm would really occur if he let Jack... let Jack... His mind flinched away from the thought of it. Oh for God's sake, he chastised himself, he was making far more of this than it should be. And remember, he reminded himself, how generously Jack had forgiven, and then incredibly—willingly—given it up to him. He sighed again.

Jack was scowling at him now from the other side of the rocks and absently tugging at the little tuft of beard that grew beneath his lower lip—a nervous habit that James had noticed Jack resorted to when he was feeling uncertain. He wasn't just angry, James realized with sudden clarity; he was hurt.

Now James was scowling back at Jack. Brilliant, he thought, there sits the scourge of the Spanish Main and his feelings are hurt.

He looked away then to hide his grin. It was rather amusing, in a way, and even more so to be in the unlikely position of deciding the yea or nay to intimacies. He'd always found that one of the most distracting and annoying things about women was that power they had to decide if they would or would not grant their favors. A fellow really never knew for sure which way it would go until the very last moment.

That's what did it, though he didn't really stop to consider all the particulars. Only that toying with Jack, and holding him off, somehow felt like more of a compromise to his manhood than actually giving it up to him.

"Jack?" he called. "Why don't you come over here and sit with me?"

"Don't think that's a good idea, mate."

James looked back out across the cove. All right, exactly how did one go about indicating to another man that he was... well, receptive to being buggered? Without, of course, having to actually say the words out loud?

He thought for a minute and then sprawled out on the rocks, canting his hips to display his backside (in what he hoped was a provocative manner) and tried again.

"Jack?" He really felt ridiculous, he admitted to himself, as he looked over his shoulder at Jack.

Judging from the expression on Jack's face, he apparently didn't look ridiculous. Jack's gaze was fixed on his rump and he was nervously chewing on his lower lip. When James flexed the muscles of his arse and flipped the end of his tail, Jack's eyes darted to James's face, searching and questioning.

There really was quite an erotic thrill at inspiring such raw desire in another, James thought smugly. No wonder women played this game. He lazily swished his tail across the rocks and Jack's eyes flicked back down to his tail, tracking its movement.

He was surprised when he began to feel a heat of his own, deep within himself. The motion of his tail perhaps, or maybe it was the incendiary look Jack was raking over his body. He wasn't sure which, but suddenly the idea of Jack inside him didn't seem like such a terrible idea after all. His hips twitched involuntarily.

Jack snapped his gaze back to James's face, glared fiercely at him for a moment and then dove off the rocks into the water.

Well, so much for seduction, James thought in disgust, cradling his head in his arms. And now he was aroused himself. Bloody hell.

Of course, a little voice whispered in his mind, there was nothing stopping him from going after Jack. And do what, say what, he argued with himself, just come right out and ask Jack to bugger him? Here, in the cove, in broad daylight?

He was seriously contemplating just that when Jack surfaced in the water beside him. Jack didn't say anything; he just clung to the rock and watched James steadily. James didn't say anything either. Instead, he reached out, pushed the wet hair from Jack's face and then leaned over the side of the rocks and kissed him.

James pulled away slowly and waited.

Jack looked up at him, squinting in the bright sunlight. "You were doin that..." he fluttered his fingers in the direction of James's tail, "that was on purpose, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

"Aye," he looked up, his brow deeply furrowed as he marked the position of the sun. It was only mid-afternoon. When he looked back at James, his hand had strayed to tug and worry at the tuft of beard beneath his lip. "Should I... should I hope that you've had a change o' heart, James?"

James slipped into the water beside Jack and wrapped his arms around him. "I have."

"Oh Christ, are ya sure, mate?"

"Very sure."

"Ah huh." Now Jack's brow creased with suspicion and he searched James's face.

James knew Jack was nearly beside himself with his desire. His tail had snaked around James's, almost of its own accord and Jack was rubbing unconsciously against him in the water. But still, he was controlled and holding back.

"Why?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Why?"

"Jack..."

"No, I mean it, mate. It's still broad daylight, why the sudden change o' heart?"

"It seems that I want you, Jack Sparrow, and apparently I'm really not too terribly fussy about who does what or when." He looked down into the water. "I just... I do want you Jack," he finished lamely.

Jack broke into a broad, smug grin. "You want me..."

"You're going to be insufferable now, aren't you?"

"No, no luv... course not." He kissed James carefully and then whispered into his ear. "What I'm going to be, is very careful and very gentle," he pulled back to look into James's eyes, "while I'm fucking you into the middle of next week."

James arched an eyebrow and studied Jack silently for a moment. "Well," he sniffed, finally, "I'm certainly all a-twitter with anticipation now."

Jack's grin just got broader. "Just makin' sure we're square on who's doin' what."

James slipped his fingers down and into Jack's pouch, and took great satisfaction in watching the smug grin fade into an expression of stunned disbelief.

"Didn't expect that did you, Sparrow?" James smirked. He felt Jack's prick harden in his hand and he curled his fingers around it.

Jack cried out once and then squeezed his eyes shut, breathlessly repeating, "Oh Christ, oh Christ..." over and over like some mantra.

James tightened his hold on Jack's hard cock, "Jack, easy," he urged, trying for some of the same control that Jack had used with him, but the water around them was churning with the thrashing of Jack's tail.

James had a moment's fearful pause at the force of Jack's arousal, but then his own restless desire and the feel of him—the heated length of Jack in his hand—dispelled it. He slid his hand up and down the shaft, teased the foreskin back and then slid his hand down to cup the smooth hairless balls. Jesus, there just wasn't enough time for the touching that he wanted... and the tasting as well, he realized with a jolt of shock.

He pulled his hand from Jack's pouch and raised it to his mouth, looked into Jack's face and saw that Jack's gaze was fixed on his hand. When he touched his fingers to his lips and sucked them into his mouth, Jack gave an inarticulate cry and tightened his grip on James's shoulders.

Then he was being dragged beneath the surface of the water.

Jack was far stronger than he expected and before he quite realized what was happening, Jack was behind him and holding him firmly with his tail and his teeth. He could feel Jack frantically rubbing his shaft against the cleft of his arse. James struggled against him in the water, but it was only moments before his limbs began to grow heavy and clumsy. He was now, terrifyingly, at the whim of Jack's lust and very near to panicking with the total loss of control.

Jack brought them to the surface. "I want to hear you," he panted in his ear, "I want to hear your cry when I take you."

"Jack, please..." James was genuinely afraid now.

Jack slipped his hand into James's pouch and fondled him roughly. "Trust me, luv, just trust me."

James felt his prick fill and harden and Jack began to press against him. There was a moment's resistance and then Jack was through the tight ring of muscle and slowly pushing into him.

James expected some pain; there was none... only a hot exquisite pressure as Jack sank deeply into him. He could feel the knot in Jack's shaft thicken and harden and it was pressing hard against something inside of him that shot bright sparks of pleasure throughout his tail. He dropped his head back against Jack's shoulder and then that haunting, desperate sound... that cry... was coming from his own gills.

His fear evaporated and some conscious part of his mind noted that his entire tail had taken on the feel of some great overstimulated cock. If Jack didn't move soon he was certain he would die of the pleasure.

Jack's mating swim was tight and controlled. He kept them in the cove, repeatedly skimming along the seabed and then angling sharply to drive them to the surface.

The powerful, measured thrusts of Jack's tail carried them higher and faster than James's frantic flight had. And each time they broke the surface, that last sweeping surge of Jack's tail sent them high above the surface and pushed James closer and closer.

They were twisting in the air when Jack bit down savagely on James's dorsal fin and James came hard, spending and spending in an extraordinary wash of sensation that could only ever be uniquely his and Jack's.

Jack went wild with it then, and when they hit the water, bent them nearly double as he trembled and shook with his own release.

They lay there for a while, petting and kissing and whispering the usual foolish nonsense that lovers have whispered to each other for untold ages.

Finally, Jack stretched against him and dropped a quick kiss onto James's cheek. "I suppose I better get some food and feed ya, eh, luv?"

"I am hungry," James admitted. "Shall we eat at the rocks?"

"No, wait here, luv, and rest. I won't be long."

"Oh sweet Jesus, James... you're bleedin', Christ you're bleedin'."

James lurched awake and twisted on the ledge to look down at himself. A trickle of blood had stained the paler scales along the crease of his buttocks. "It doesn't hurt," he said, looking up at Jack's panic-stricken face. "Really, it doesn't hurt."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry..." he touched careful frightened fingers to James's rump, "I didn't mean to do that."

"Really, I think I'm all right."

"It's blood James. It's not all right. Stay here. I'll be right back."

"Where are you going?"

"I have to get Dree, James; I've hurt you. I have to get some help."

And then he was in the water and gone.

"Really, Jack Sparrow," Dree interrupted, "it's nothing to worry about and happens quite often the first time with virgins."

Jack went dead still, clamped his mouth shut and blinked hard, struggling to contain himself. James could see that he was biting the insides of his cheeks, and the corners of his mouth twitched madly. Finally, he glanced at James and then at Dree and cleared his throat... then cleared it again.

James sat up slowly, glaring the threat of dire harm to Jack. "Don't. You. DARE. Say it."

Jack only shook his head helplessly and attempted a look of solemn innocence. Failing, he turned away and James could see his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.

James sighed in irritated exasperation. "Oh for God's sake, Sparrow, just say it and get it over with before you explode."

"I took James Norrington's maidenhead," Jack rasped out in a rush of words. He rolled back against James, laughing outright now and wiping at his eyes. "I'm sorry, luv," he gasped.

"You're an idiot, Sparrow," James told him, though there was no heat in the words.

Jack twisted around and leaned over James still grinning broadly. He kissed James lightly on the lips.

"Not only did I take James Norrington's maidenhead," he whispered, "but I think... nay, I'm certain," he kissed James again, "that he loved every," kiss, "single," kiss, "minute of it."

"I dare say it's a grave mistake to admit such a thing to you, but... yes, yes I did."

Jack's grin softened into a sweet smile and neither noticed when Dree slipped quietly away.

"Is he all right?" Aroo asked.

"Virgin," Dree answered, curling against him.

"Ahh."

They traded kisses in the moonlight. After awhile, Dree's hand crept down and into Aroo's pouch, fondling and stroking until Aroo was hard and arching into his hand. When the moment was right, he slid down Aroo's body and took his prick into his mouth. He teased the foreskin back with his tongue and then suckled the large organ as he squeezed and worked the hard knot at its base. It didn't take long before Aroo was mewling softly and spending into Dree's mouth. Dree licked him clean and crawled back up his body.

They kissed some more and then Aroo reached into Dree's pouch to return the favor.

Dree sighed in contentment. "I'm always so relieved when the imperative to mate each month is over, and we can get back to making love."

"I wonder," Aroo mused, pausing in his ministrations of Dree's cock, "if Jack Sparrow will tell the Pirate Hunter that once they have mated, they won't need to mate again unless they want to."

Dree nudged against Aroo's hand, reminding him of unfinished business. "I think Jack Sparrow might forget."

"A great deal of forgetting with that pair," he murmured, arching a brow at Dree.

Dree only smiled innocently and Aroo returned his attention to the delightful task of pleasuring his mate.