For Want Of A Nail

Chapter 12

by

The Dala

"You asleep?" Jack nudged him with a foot and all right, that one was definitely not his own, so it must be this one—he lifted the leg experimentally and rubbed it between both of Jack's—and the other, which he hooked more securely around Jack's calf.

"I was getting there, thank you," he replied, satisfied that all limbs were now present and accounted for.

Jack chuckled, running one hand up and down Norrington's forearm, mussing the fine dark hairs. "You should be thankin' me, lad. I turned out quite the performance tonight, not that I don't always."

Norrington shifted his first leg again, causing Jack to trap it and keep it still. "And I suppose I was simply a beached whale beneath you?" He marveled that he still had the fortitude to speak at all, much less make bad jokes, when his heart was only just settling back down into his body and his lungs still held a trace of burn.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that, I'd say you did very well," Jack told him sanctimoniously, "especially for your first time out on the water." The hands wandering over his body met at the small of his back and spread flat as Jack chuckled. "Very well indeed." Norrington grabbed one of the hands and brought it to his face, nibbling each fingertip before Jack wrangled out of his grasp to stroke his hair back.

"Is it always like that?" he wanted to know.

"Like what?" He could hear the rustle of beads and trinkets as Jack tilted his head to look down.

"So... so strong," said Norrington, trying to imply everything he had felt in Jack's arms with a few words, and failing miserably. "So much." There, that was a bit more accurate.

The hands petting him squeezed again, one around his arm and the other slightly more careful on his backside. "No, it's not always like that."

"Oh." Norrington couldn't quite keep the disappointment out of his voice, though really, if that happened on a nightly basis, he wasn't too sure he'd be able to survive his waking hours.

"We could try, though, making it 'so much,' as you put it, every time," said Jack thoughtfully, hands stroking up and down his back in alternating rhythm.

He raised his head to prop his chin on Jack's chest, looking shyly at him. "Can we try right now?"

Jack shook beneath him with a burst of laughter. "Already?"

"Well, you keep touching me," said Norrington sheepishly.

Hands patted his pelvis sideways to let Jack palm his stiffening cock. Norrington moved into the touch without thinking. "Dear me, Commodore, whatever have I made of you? Newly deflowered and already you're up for more."

Norrington's face screwed up in a scowl, which then relaxed as Jack's hand twisted around him. "I was not a virgin, I'll have you know, Sparrow." He caught his breath in a hiss as Jack pulled harder, just barely using his blunt nails.

His voice was low and rich, lazy. "You were in some respects, lad, might as well own up to that."

"True enough," he conceded grudgingly. He rose on an elbow to lean over Jack, who wrapped both arms around him with a pleased little grunt.

This part was going to be more difficult, but as long as they were both feeling so warm and content... "I want to—to have you," he said haltingly, turning his face into Jack's neck to hide his blush. "Want to make you feel what I was feeling," he whispered against a steady pulse, which sped up under his lips.

When he raised his head again, the look on Jack's face alarmed him a bit. It was guarded for the first time that night. "It's been a long, long time," Jack said, closing his eyes.

Norrington shifted uncomfortably atop him, regretting having brought it up. "If you don't want to—"

Jack's eyes popped open and he caught Norrington as he started to pull away. "I didn't say that, Gabriel." He laced his fingers together at the back of Norrington's neck and moved him down to kiss. "No, I did not say that at all," he reiterated after a few breathless moments which were far more convincing than any words he might have offered.

"Oil?" Norrington said, voice lowering as Jack ground wantonly against him.

"Think... it went under th'pillow..." Norrington reached under his head to scramble for it, wincing as inner muscles protested his lack of care.

"Bit sore?" said Jack apologetically. "And after I went easy on you too."

Norrington choked out a laugh. "That was easy?" His fingers found purchase on the little jar and he pulled it out.

"Just wait," Jack told him smugly, lifting his legs to hook his knees over Norrington's shoulders. "Get your first taste o' me and you'll understand. What?" he added, as Norrington paused to frown down at him.

"I don't think I could bend like that," said Norrington, suddenly worried that this position would be expected of him at some point.

Jack stared at him for a second before he burst out laughing. If there was one thing Norrington hadn't expected from this night, it was how light it was in certain ways, how many slow, lingering kisses and how much laughter he'd found in Jack's bed. He'd thought the interminable wait might leave only bright scorches of heat, and though there was heat aplenty, there was also this gentle glow of affection.

"It's not that hard," Jack assured him, his eyes glinting merrily at his own choice of words. "Though speaking of hardness..." He reached down to tweak Norrington's cock. "I wouldn't mind a bit right now."

"A bit?" Norrington replied, pretending to be offended.

"More than a bit," Jack amended graciously. "A good deal more than a bit, in fact. Not that I can tell for certain until—" He broke off abruptly as Norrington pushed a damp finger inside him. "Yes, something like that, please."

Norrington's interest was piqued by the word. "Please?" he repeated, twisting and trying to find that spot within Jack he'd only just been made aware of inside himself. Jack's hands tightened around his braced arms as he shot Norrington a warning look. "That wouldn't be the infamous Jack Sparrow begging, now would it?" His finger curled deep inside and Jack clenched suddenly around it, sucking in air and moving against Norrington almost as if he were trying to get away.

"Oh Jesus," Jack gasped as Norrington, growing bolder, added a second finger and brushed the spot again. "Fine, fine, I'm begging, just—gimme..."

"Tell me," said Norrington roughly, enjoying the way Jack's eyelashes fluttered and his hips bucked into the contact, "tell me that you want me."

Surprise and a whole new degree of arousal was shuttered behind Jack's falling lids. "Please, Gabriel," he panted, "want you, I want you—want you inside me." His desperate growl slid down along Norrington's skin to make his cock throb, and he could be cruel to himself no more than he could be cruel to Jack. He withdrew his fingers to quickly coat himself and then he was sliding forward, his fingers clenching in the bedsheets as he was taken by silky heat all around him.

He moaned Jack's name, hearing an answering cry at the edge of his sanity.

Jack had told him he'd understand. And he did—suddenly he seemed to understand everything, his life, the world, the sea, the heavens, and most of all the man beneath him. And he knew that Jack was never going to let him do this again

~~~

Then Norrington, after a few rapid, shallow thrusts, stopped moving.

Jack was so shocked that he went still as well. What the hell was wrong with the man? Didn't he understand what this meant, what Jack was giving him at the expense of pride and fear and God only knew what else?

He did tight and rippling things to the organ spearing him, but though every muscle in Norrington's body started to quiver, he didn't budge.

Feeling like a child stamping his feet to get his way, Jack hissed, "What—what could you possibly be thinking?"

Norrington opened his eyes briefly and Jack was flummoxed to see such fear within them, the kind of fear that could stop a man cold in the middle of what Jack considered to be extremely good sex.

"I'm going to hurt you," he finally said in a broken whisper.

Oh fuck. Of all the times to revert to the old can't-touch-me-I'm-the-proper-bloody-Commodore...

He bit down on his urge to scream in frustration and gentled his voice as best he could. "You're not, love, believe it."

Norrington's face twisted hurtfully at his use of the endearment, normally casual but different in this light.

"You—you don't understand," he said, what sounded like sobs rising in his voice.

"No," said Jack, trying to sound rational rather than pleading, "I do, I understand—it feels like darkness inside you but it's not, it's nothing of the sort. I know what you want to do to me and I'm telling you, Gabriel, that I want it too."

There was restraint and then there was Norrington, his eyes anguished as he shook his head. "I don't do this, Jack, I can't..."

"Yes, you can," Jack replied forcefully, pulling him down so that he rested on his elbows, most of his weight heavy on Jack. It was uncomfortable, but having him this close was the only way to solve the problem of Norrington's asinine hesitation. He kissed him with all the conviction he could muster, tasting a need as fierce and sharp as his own. Listen to it, he bade Norrington silently, continuing out loud, "Feel it and trust it and... and trust me."

He could sense Norrington's resolve crumbling, his jaw clenching.

"The only one here who could possibly get hurt," said Jack in a gravelly voice, his final entreaty, "is you, because if you don't start moving I will chuck you right out the window. Is 'at clear?"

A breath so deep he had a momentary fear that Norrington was never going to let it out again.

"Inescapably clear," he murmured, kissing Jack hungrily as he raised back up on his arms and surrendered.

To me, Jack thought wonderingly as Norrington thrust deep into him, pulled half-out, thrust in again, giving it to him and taking it away and then giving it again. He does this to me and he does it for me, and I'm not even sure I had the right to ask it of him.

"God, Jack," Norrington cried piercingly, his brow wrinkled with concentration and the force with which his eyes were squeezed shut.

"Yes," Jack groaned, twisting his hips to meet that driving force, urging him onward with hands at his waist. "Just like that, lad, just there... come on..."

Norrington looked down at him suddenly, his eyes almost confused as they ran across Jack's face.

"See?" Jack said, trying to smile but finding it broken by his sharply drawn breathing. "I told you."

A touch of humor, some acknowledgment of it even though he didn't slacken in his movements. "I believe you now. Jack..." He glanced down between them, taking in Jack's cock jutting out above where their bodies were joined. "Do you want me to—my hand—"

Jack nodded wildly, the motion probably lost in the rocking of his body. "Please—touch me—"

Norrington bent down to kiss him, adjusting slightly to compensate for the loss of support from one hand, which he used to find Jack's leaking cock and pump it in time with his thrusts. And there was no way Jack could last under a double attack like that, not when he'd waited this long for this one man. Just a few quick strokes along his shaft and he was digging his nails into Norrington's back, lifiting up off the bed, swearing a blue streak in more than one language as he pulsed into Norrington's long fingers.

His timing wasn't bad. Norrington grabbed Jack's hips, balancing on his knees and thrusting too quickly and almost too hard—once—twice—"Jack, I'm—" The aftershocks were still shaking him as he felt the hot rush inside, both heard and felt Norrington's indistinct scream muffled against his shoulder.

For a moment he thought they were going to fall backwards due to the arch of Norrington's spine, but after a bit of swaying he landed back against the bed, the air knocked out of his lungs.

Norrington floundered before he got enough leverage to lift himself off of Jack, who was relieved at being able to inhale again and yet absurdly saddened to feel the withdrawal of the softened member from him.

He curled against Norrington, both of them still gasping like fish out of water. As heart rates slowed and breathing returned to semi-normal, Jack ran a finger across Norrington's lips, determined to hear him speak first.

When nothing came forth, he prompted impatiently, "Well?"

"I am... glad we did that," Norrington said finally, decisively. "And my throat hurts, as well as... well. Other parts. I think you drew blood when you clawed me. We ought to clean this mess up or Ned won't want to sleep with us. Jack? Jack, I'm going back to my own room if you don't stop laughing at me."

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