Rags of Time
Part 5
by
Disclaimer: Not mine, none of it. Claim no ownership and make no money. I just like to play with them. Sorry!
Sparrow painted pictures with his words. His descriptions filled Norrington's mind with images. The docks of Singapore—vibrant paper lanterns strung around, old men in domed straw hats using cormorants to fish for them with twine tied round their necks to stop them eating their prizes, vast pans full of rice and noodles frying with shrimp and prawns and unidentifiable meats on the side of the street, the smells of the food and the people and the stench of the backstreets, the same as any other port town but with the scent of spices and cloves and aniseed running through it.
Norrington was suddenly a child again, sitting on the docks of his hometown in England listening to the old sailors who'd tell the kiddies stories of the high seas and foreign lands. He laughed out loud at the madness of Sparrow's day-to-day activities, gasped as he told of great escapes and near misses, and raised his eyebrows cynically when the stories began to sound too farfetched.
"Well I'd like to see how you'd cope with that long a voyage and no meat. I swear—I taught meself the different calls of the gulls and tricked 'um into falling in love with me, then pounced," Sparrow illustrated by making the short distance between them on the bed even shorter. "And there was dinner."
"That is preposterous," Norrington replied, smiling despite himself. "Are you telling me there were no fish in the entire sea?"
"I don't much care for fish, luv." Sparrow practically pouted, and held his mug out for another drink.
"And if there were enough gulls present for you to carry out such an insane plan, you would have been close enough to some shore to find some other source of food."
"They were those long-range gulls, you know. The ones that sleep on the wing." The man could barely keep the smile from his mouth as he said the words. Norrington raised his brow questioningly.
"Fine! I made that bit up," Sparrow conceded. "But the rest of it is true. On my honour."
Norrington smiled and took another drink from the half-full bottle. Sparrow was sitting closer now, leaning forward on the knee pulled to his chest while Norrington lounged back against the headboard.
"What's the longest you been at sea, luv?" Sparrow's voice had a dream-like quality suddenly.
"Oh, on the crossing from England. Eleven—no twelve years ago now. That was a long crossing; we encountered a number of squalls on the way."
Norrington was suddenly aware that he was talking just to fill the silence that had fallen, and to distract himself from the inviting distance in the other man's eyes. "Unexpectedly, as they were out of season and quite rare in those parts of—"
"Can I kiss you, James?" Sparrow asked, something like concern flashing in his eyes. Norrington froze, but maintained his gaze.
That was quite possibly the very last thing he'd expected him to say. But he was neither disturbed nor revolted by it. He was drawn to the words, as he was drawn to all of Sparrow's words, he realised. Sparrow's concern seemed to bleed down the man's face from his eyes, until the tips of his mouth dipped slightly, and he looked slightly lost—bereft and anxious suddenly.
Norrington found it the most endearing and gentle expression he had ever seen on another person.
"No," he replied simply, although his mouth seemed to form the word of its own accord, in direct opposition to how he felt.
Sparrow smiled as his eyes flashed darkly.
"Ah, but I can see it in your eyes now, luv. You want me to. So why do you say no?"
"Because you are a man," Norrington replied simply, as he realised then that this single fact was the only reason his mind had to deny him what he wanted. What he had wanted, and did now want also.
"That's just semantics, luv," Sparrow said, leaning closer still and brushing his fingers across Norrington's cheekbone, running down the length of his jaw.
Norrington's eyes closed without his permission, and he gasped a breath at the touch, gentle and smooth and like a spark. He opened his eyes to see Sparrow so close their foreheads nearly touched. The man was waiting, he realised, to see if he would back away. He knew he should.
It was Norrington's mouth that closed the distance between them, pressing his lips gently to Sparrow's. They remained still there a moment, until Sparrow's mouth began to move slowly, kissing lips between his own. The man's unruly hair curtained out the light, surrounding him in the scent of Jack, the feel of him all around as his hand still cupped his jaw. He was suddenly aware of everything—the backs of the man's rings against his skin, the plump pushing of his lips against his own, the feel of his breath heavy against his face, the surge of feelings and heat in his chest as his heart leapt and beat harder.
Jack's tongue gently touched his lips, and James almost withdrew but paused, feeling piercing stirrings in his groin. His mouth parted slightly to let him in as the kiss deepened, stroking tongues and the whisper of teeth on lips. He heard Jack moan quietly, but James thought the sound might have been his own, and he brought his hand up to bury in Jack's hair, become entangled in the braids as he pulled him closer, pressing their mouths together. Jack tasted of brandy, heady and heavy and golden.
Jack pulled away with a gasp, rolling their foreheads together with eyes closed. His breathing was heavy, but James realised his own was also. Jack was too close to focus on properly, but he could see the frown of concentration, the tightening round his eyes of something he couldn't decipher.
James felt like his chest was on fire, like he was burning with some wordless desperation that gripped him by the balls, stiffening his cock, and he realised it was Jacks thigh that pressed against it where he sat with a knee between James's legs, causing a dull ache of pleasure there.
"What do you do to me, luv..." Jack muttered, too quietly for James to be sure he'd heard right.
"What did you say?" he whispered, unsure of his own voice.
"I said what are you thinking, luv?" Sparrow replied, sitting back slightly with a smile, though his eyes were dark and serious. He moved his thumb lightly back and forth over James's cheek from where his hand still rested against his face.
"I think your madness is catching," James's voice was coarse, roughened by something.
"If madness is not knowing who or what you are then I'd say it's you who's mad. I know myself. Seems I know you too." Jack's voice was gentle, despite the edge to his words.
"I know there is a need in me which must be suppressed, if that is what you're talking about. Do not think that I don't know myself just because I cannot express it as freely as you."
Sparrow's eyes were intense, and James suddenly felt exposed as though Jack could see his thoughts directly.
"Why did you ask me first?" James said quietly.
"Some things taste better when you've permission," Jack replied, his gaze still unreadable and unbreakable.
"Well, then. Can I kiss you, Jack?"
Sparrow's face broke into a smile, his eyes lighting as he chuckled quietly.
"That's one thing you won't need to ask twice, luv," he said, leaning closer and bringing their mouths back together in another searing kiss.
He kissed James's eyelids. Pressed his lips against his brow. He licked a light trace down his temple, his jawline and found his mouth again.
Jack kissed him deeply, showing no restraint now—now that he knew James wanted it as much as he.
His hand pressed down James's side, feeling firmness beneath linen. He left James's mouth behind as he kissed a trail down his throat, then upon the nightshirt, licking and kissing the skin through the fabric.
James gasped at the thrill of it—to feel the man's mouth so close to him and yet still not close enough. He tugged at his nightshirt, trying to prize it away from his skin that burned to be touched.
Jack slid down his body, wrapping him with arms that possessed him, held him close and tight behind his back as his head tripped lower, biting through the linen at his ribs and making James cry out softly.
Sparrow pressed his face into James's stomach, hands stretching out above him with one tugging behind James's neck to set his head back and the other pinching through the fabric to his nipple already tender underneath. He almost growled as Norrington's body bucked beneath him, relishing the feelings.
Jack paused suddenly and cursed under his breath. His hands froze where they were, one around James's shoulder and the other pressing hard against his hip. James tried to catch his breath, lifted his head from the pillow to look at him.
"What is it?" James asked, breathless.
Jack sighed with irritation and placed both hands on James's stomach, propping his chin on them and looking up at James through his eyelashes.
"It's no good. You need to tell me that you want this," Jack said quickly, embarrassed by the admission.
"I don't know what this is," James said quietly, at a loss suddenly.
"That's very poetic, love, but I was thinking about more practical things." Jack pushed his chest down, pressing against James's erection. James gasped at the feel of it, his fingers clenched together tightly.
"Are you not a pirate? Do you not just take what you want regardless?" he asked angrily, annoyed that Sparrow had stopped, worried that if he thought about what was happening for too long he wouldn't be able to do it.
"There are some things which are not to be taken without consent," Jack said seriously, but then he smiled wickedly. "Besides, I want to hear you say it."
"Say what?" he asked tightly.
"That you want me. That you want me to do all kinds of lovely twisted things to you. That you've wanted me for a long time, about as long as I have wanted you, if you were to really make me think about it."
James stared at him for a long moment, realising the truth in his words. Here he was, Commodore James Norrington, in his own bed with one of the region's most notorious pirates lying between his legs on top of the most demanding erection he had ever known. The reality of the situation jarred him, made him almost feel he was outside of himself, just observing what was happening. That he wanted this was obvious. That he shouldn't was even more. Yet there was something that felt so right about it—his instinct told him.
"Jack, I'd not let myself think it. It's madness," he said weakly.
"Well, think on it now, love," Jack replied softly, too gentle suddenly. "Think how false your fears are."
"The fears are not false Jack, as well you know," he said quietly. "If we were to be discovered I would hang alongside you."
"Who's to discover us, love? I'm the best at evading discovery. And if anyone were to suggest that you were having an affair with the legendary Captain Jack Sparrow—well, they'd be made a laughingstock."
"So it's to be an affair now is it? Not just a one time thing," James smiled, only half cynically.
"Well no, s'not what I meant," Jack said too quickly, looking away. "I was just following your thinking is all."
"Indeed," James said, raising his brow and smiling. He paused for a long moment. "Despite my better judgement, and seeing as you are already in my bed, I would very much like it if you were to continue on the route you have begun."
"Excellent!" Jack smiled, all teeth and eyes again.
Norrington was somewhere else entirely. He had never known sensations like it—Jack's hands were everywhere all at once. Scratching nails down his side, digging fingertips into the taut flesh of his stomach, tracing lines along the outside of his legs as his lips and tongue found the sensitized marks his nails had made across his skin, making his body rise from the bed as he gasped through his teeth.
Jack slid further down his body, his chest causing irresistible friction against James's erection as he pushed his nightshirt further up.
"Off, love, off off off," he whispered. James fumbled with it as he pulled it over his head, and looked back to see Jack staring wide eyed, eating in the sight of his body. James felt self-conscious suddenly, he couldn't remember the last time someone had looked at him that way. Jack's eyes were liquid dark, his lips parted slightly.
"Beautiful, love," he whispered, running a hand the length of James's body. James rose against it and into it, closing his eyes because the sight of Jack staring at him like that was too much.
Jack was kissing his stomach, his beard soft as it tickled slightly around where his tongue traced heat. He brought his hands to grip James's hips and pressed hard against his pelvis, moving his lips lower but purposefully avoiding his cock. He licked and nipped his way into the hidden crease at the top of his thigh, kissed down the inside of one leg and back up the other.
James felt like he was burning from the inside out, he was so desperate to be touched. He could feel Jack's braids and locks of hair brushing against his erection as he kissed his legs, the sensation just enough to be more frustrating then none at all. He whimpered desperately, his hips involuntarily rising from the bed to beg silently.
Jack pushed him back down firmly, but repositioned one hand under and behind to cup a cheek, digging nails in lightly. His mouth came higher, and James cried out a stuttered moan as his tongue found his balls, licked a firm tipped line from underneath round to top.
Jack released his hip and traced a finger lightly the length of the underside of James's cock, making him shudder and hiss through his teeth. Jack smiled at the reaction, committing every detail to memory. He repeated the action with his tongue, causing James to gasp and whisper syllables that weren't quite words. He took the tip into his mouth and flicked lips and tongue over the sensitive ridge as James cried out louder, and louder still as he sunk further down it, taking it to the back of his throat.
James's head was reeling, he was almost dizzy from the maddening feeling of Jack sucking at him, raising his head higher and lower as lips and tongue kissed and flicked and licked all around him. It was more than he'd ever felt before, and his mind tried to pull him back from it, to try and regain control rather than spill everything for this man.
But it was too much as Jack pulled his head up and brought a hand to grip around his cock, tugging and moving back and forth as his mouth continued working around the end. James felt like his chest would burst. His mind still held back, still unsure, until Jack's other hand slipped out from beneath him. He pressed the hand around his balls and James cried out, too close now to stop as Jack's finger found some secret searing place behind his balls and pushed up into its firmness.
James felt like he was falling as he came, his head hitching back into the pillow. He bit into the palm of his hand to muffle his cries as all that he was was suddenly just this, the scorching, searing pulse of release and pleasure that swept over him. Jack pressed his finger bluntly into that place behind his balls in time with each shudder his body made, deepening the release and feelings further.
He seemed to float back down, though his body felt like lead. He realised Jack's mouth was still surrounding his now-spent member, lapping at it gently as it softened. The tenderness of the action made something well in his chest—the unexpected care Jack took to maintain a tactile touch with him as he came back from the shock and intensity of his orgasm, to stay with him rather than leave him bereft of contact. The simple kindness of it brought a small sob to his throat before he could stop it.
Jack's eyes flicked up at that, and met James's. James looked up at the canopy above the bed, rubbed a hand over his brow, embarrassed suddenly, unsure how he had gotten into this situation and unsure what to do now he was here.
Jack left one last kiss from plush lips on his member and slid his way up the bed to lie beside Norrington. He reached a hand out and gently pulled James's face towards him.
"Good, love?" he asked with a small smile, something flickering through his eyes.
"Better," James said weakly before he realised he'd spoken.
"Better than what?" he asked with an inquisitive frown. James chuckled despite himself as he realised he'd now have to clarify what he hadn't meant to say.
"Than I had dreamt," he said quietly.
"So you have dreamt of me then," Sparrow's mouth was all gold again, his eyes gentle.
"And should not have told you. I'm sure I'll never hear the end of it now."
"Really, James, what do you take me for?"
"I appear to be at a disadvantage here, Sparrow. I am naked, yet you are still fully clothed."
"Would you like to remedy that situation, love?"
James sat up and brought the other man with him. He began to tug at the sash, unsure of the nature of the knot it was tied in.
"How on Earth do you get into this thing?"
"Get away with your fussin'," Jack chided, flapping James's hands away. With a swift flick and twirl of his wrist the sash was off, followed by the shirt.
"Your ribs, Jack, are they well healed?" James asked, reaching a hand to press on them. "I'm sorry, I completely forgot to ask you."
"Fine, love," said Jack, placing his hand on top of James's. "Told you, I've had far worse." He slid their hands together up over his torso, staring deep into the other man's eyes. James leant forward and kissed him again, moaning quietly as he tasted himself in Jack's mouth. At the back of his mind a thought sparked, threatening to flash. Surely he was mad. Why else was he doing this with a man—not just any man, but a pirate, and Sparrow at that.
The thought nearly stopped his lips as they traced kisses down Jack's jaw and neck. But Jack distracted him as he rose from the bed and brought James with him, pulled his body close as they stood together and brought James's hands to the laces at the back of his breeches.
"What the hell kind of bloody knots do you tie, Jack?" he all but laughed, fingers tangled in the laces. He spun the man round to look at the offending strings.
"Just pull the long bit, for the love of God, man, are you not a sailor or have you been cooped up in that fort so long you've forgotten?"
"There is no long bit, you haven't done it right—oh." Sparrow's hand slipped round and with one tug the laces came undone.
"You're the one not doing it right—" he began as he made to turn around, wriggling his legs free. James stopped him and held his shoulders, staring at his back. The criss-crossing of scars and old wounds and ink, and the deep pink new scars from his most recent flogging. The one he had stitched was healed well, but still raised. He leant forward and kissed it, felt the smooth shine of the tissue almost like lips. He wrapped his arms around Jack, pressed hands into his chest and felt the muscle move above the ribs, soft flesh of his stomach tense at the movements of his mouth on his back.
James held him as he backed them towards the bed, sitting down against the headboard and bringing Jack down to sit between his splayed legs, inhaled the scent of Jack's hair against his face.
"Where am I goin', love?" Jack smiled with bemusement, unsure of what James intended until James cradled him back against his shoulder and kissed him softly.
He lay half reclined in James's arms, surrounded by his limbs as they held him. James ran his hand gently up the outside of his leg and found his cock, gripping tightly and making Jack gasp through the kiss as he began to pull back and forth, twisting his hand and palming the head. Jack's breathing became ragged as he whimpered into James's mouth. James held him tighter, pulled his body closer as his hand sped up and he pulled back from the kiss. James stared down at him, saw his mouth lax and brow tense, eyes squeezed shut. They shot open suddenly, and frowned. Jack had been contentedly losing himself to the pleasure and thrill of what James was doing, but he was suddenly aware of those eyes on him. He saw them now—intense and green and far too full of something far too strong—
No no no, not good. Jack sat bolt upright, causing James to lose his grip of him entirely. This was not the plan. He had come here to see if he could, if the commodore could be convinced to let his guard down long enough to have some fun with him, to get out of his system whatever had accumulated there during their time together at sea. And to see if anything could come of it.
He had not come here to be cradled by the man as he lovingly stared deep into his eyes. He was not willing to give that much away, to hand himself over so readily. So why had he done so?
"What is it, Jack?" James asked.
"S'nothin'. Cramp. Can't lie like that." Not his most convincing act, but then he was somewhat distracted by the heightened state of arousal the man had caused.
"Well, come here instead," James said gently, holding his shoulders and pulling him back to sit against him, his back pressed to James's chest. At least this way James couldn't see his face properly, he wasn't completely exposed like some blushing virgin.
Jack let his head fall back onto James's shoulder, let James's arms loop back round him as he took him in hand again and continued a maddening rhythm. His other hand found a nipple and occupied itself, lifting Jack further from the bed and further from his own mind. James twisted his head round and kissed at Jack's neck, running his tongue over the skin there and finding his earlobe, sucking it into his mouth. That was too much, as his teeth gently nipped at the sensitive flesh there, tugging and licking—and Jack cried out profanities in Spanish as he came, his body jerking upon James's, fingers digging in to James's thighs.
James wrapped both arms around him then, held him close. Jack kept his eyes closed and hoped his brain would recover its clarity soon.
"Jack, I—" James began, his voice far too serious.
"No talk now. Only sleep," Jack said, lolling his head against James's neck and swiping at the stickiness of his stomach with the blanket.
"But that—"
"Shh, love," Jack said, bringing a finger to James's lips. "Hush. Sleep now."
Jack slipped out from James's lap and slid down onto the other side of the bed, somehow maneuvering James with him so they lay side by side, his back tucked up against James's front.
"Jack, I didn't expect that," James whispered into the man's hair. "I didn't realise—I didn't know it would—"
His sentence was interrupted by the sound of gentle snoring.
"Jack, I refuse to believe you have fallen asleep that quickly."
More snoring.
"Jack!" he said, as he shook Jack's shoulder.
"Mpht. It's the blue one, luv, blue one..." he mumbled before rolling onto his front.
James sighed and stared at the mass of tangled and shining hair with trinkets and tokens, the gentle slope and rise of his body. And he worried that it looked so good, so normal to be lying there beside him in his bed.
Jack's eyes opened before he knew he was awake, his face frowning in mild confusion because the sea was too still. Except he wasn't at sea.
He rolled over in the bed, somewhat surprised to see James there, even though he knew he was, could hear his steady breathing through the darkness. He propped his head up with his elbow, looked at the sleeping man. His eyes found what little light there was in the room to see him pale and pretty in his sleep, his face relaxed and boy-like. Hardly the scourge of piracy—not this James with elm coloured eyes and soft lips, generous knowing hands, who made such a sweet whimper when he came.
He reached out a hand to brush the hair away from his closed eyes, and remembered doing the same thing months ago on James's ship. He'd known then that he had wanted this. He'd been quite sure that he would be able to obtain it.
And he had done just that. So now was time to leave. He looked up behind James and saw the window still open. Not too many hours of night left—he'd have to go now.
He would have to get up, dress and leave. Maybe leave another note for James to find, just to give himself an opening, should he wish to return one day. He'd have to get out of bed. Have to stop staring at the man—his quiet face, the slow steady rising of his side as he breathed. The shallow curve of his hip that hid its own surprise.
Norrington would want him gone by morning anyhow. He would expect to wake and find him gone, wouldn't want him still here. For one thing, just because of the danger of it, laughable though that danger was to Jack. Still, even he didn't fancy trying to escape the noose just because of something the butler saw.
He sat up, still looking at James. Something made him wait. James mumbled something, then reached out a hand towards him.
"I've got to go, love," Jack said, more to himself than to James.
"Hmm? What?" James asked, his voice heavy with sleep. He rubbed a hand over his eyes and looked up towards him.
"Have to go. Before it gets light."
"Stay," James murmured, and Jack wasn't sure if he actually was awake.
"Can't stay, love. Can't have your valet find me in the mornin' when he comes to dress you."
"I do not have a valet, Sparrow," James said, surprising the other man who'd thought him still asleep. "And my staff do not attend to me until summoned."
"Well. Even still. I'd best be off to leave you to attend to your business tomorrow." He made to get up but James's hand fell heavily on his lap.
"Tomorrow is Saturday. I have no engagements. The staff take a half day. The house will be empty by luncheon. Stay."
"You want me to?" Jack asked as James lolled his head on the pillow. "Tell me you want me to and I will."
James rolled his head towards him, eyes still closed and mouth limp with sleep.
"Yes, Jack, I want you to. Come back to bed."
Jack smiled to himself. This was madness indeed. On both their parts. But then the best scenarios usually arose from the maddest ideas.
He lay back down and rested his head on James's shoulder, trying unsuccessfully but only half-heartedly to remember the last time he had spent an entire night in another man's bed.
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