Sparrington Arc, Chapter 3.2

Blame It On The Moon

by

The Stowaway

Norrington hid a grin—he knew this game—and walked on. The street was narrow, almost an alley, and it stank. He scanned the way ahead; nothing moved in the faint light that spilled toward him from the inn on the corner, where this lane crossed the broad road from fort to town. The voice, he decided, had come from a gap he could just make out between two rickety buildings.

He'd had several tankards of execrable wine earlier, in the seedy dockside tavern whither he had gone to meet an informant, so it was not entirely pretense when he stopped a few steps short of that black gap and turned to relieve himself against the wall.

"Coo," came the voice again, "ain't you a likely looking one."

Norrington paid no attention, unbuttoning his breeches and taking out his cock with a fine show of unconcern. He braced himself against the wall with one arm as he pissed, as if too drunk to stand.

"Ah, that's a sight to do a body's heart good." Closer now, but still hidden in the shadows. Norrington tucked himself back in, humming under his breath, and set all to rights. "Fine yard you're sporting, sailor. It makes me want to..."

"What?" Norrington asked, leaning one shoulder against the wall and crossing his arms.

"Go to me knees right here and suck you dry."

Norrington chuckled and closed his eyes. "Slut," was all his answer, but his cock stirred.

"Unless you'd fancy a bit of a fuck up against this here wall, instead."

"And that's all?"

"What else do you want?" The voice spoke from behind his shoulder.

"What are you offering?"

A bold and clever hand took hold of his cock through his breeches. "Anything," came the whisper, tongue flickering against his ear. "Everything."

Norrington shoved himself away from the wall in a blur of motion. There was a brief struggle, and the other was pressed, face first, to the rough wood. Norrington thrust his hips against a wriggling ass and pinned the wiry wrists.

"You had better have meant every word of that," he said, growling to keep himself from laughing.

"Try me."

"I intend to. Your room?"

"The inn. Through there." A jerk of the chin. "Back way."

"Appropriate," James laughed.

Jack laughed with him. "Innit just?"

"When did you arrive?"

"Right behind the Dauntless, of course," Jack chuckled. "My informants are good." He slithered around with a click of beads and raised his mouth to James's. "Well, sailor, it's a long way to the room and all," he whispered. He crooked one leg around James's thighs and drew him close. "And I want your cock in me now. Why don't we..."

James bit at the offered mouth and chuckled again. "Shameless as a cat in season," he grinned.

Jack rolled his hips invitingly and almost purred. "I've a mind to see such a very proper Commodore forget himself a mite. Blame it on the full moon," he coaxed, with a vague, graceful wave skyward, "and humor me." There was a mutter of thunder; both men laughed.

"Your room," James said firmly, kissing the pirate again. Jack sucked wantonly on his tongue and hummed. A few fat raindrops fell.

"Come on, then," Jack replied, "before we're drowned."

He retrieved his dark lantern from the entrance to the side passage, opened one shutter, and led the way at a half run. A few dozen yards found them at a postern—conveniently unlocked—that let them into the stable yard of the inn. Jack doused the lantern and they crept up the stairs, reaching the covered gallery that ran the length of the building just as the skies opened.

As the door closed behind them, shutting out the storm, James backed Jack up against the wall of the small room, eyes gleaming in the lamp light.

"Now," he said bracing himself with a hand on each side of Jack's shoulders. "What did you mean by 'anything' and 'everything'?"

"What do you think I meant?"

James shook his head. "Tell me," his voice sank and he bent his head to Jack's, "Exactly what you want."

"I want your cock in me; I want you to fuck me until I can't move," Jack whispered. "I want you to hold me down; I want your hands on me, all over me, bruising and demanding."

James was suddenly lost—this was a new game. Lust like madness rose swirling in him as the husky whisper went on.

"I want your teeth and your lips and your tongue on me, in me." Jack pressed himself against James and nibbled at his jaw. "I want you to fuck me so hard your hip bones leave bruises. I want you to make me so sore I think of you every time I move for weeks."

As James's hands tightened convulsively on his arms, Jack's breathing hitched and he hissed. "Yes. I want to be taken, claimed, marked. Do it."

James shuddered, eyes wide. He pressed on Jack's shoulders. His voice shook with the pounding of his heart. "Down, slut."

"For tonight," Jack nodded. "your slut." He slid to his knees. "Use me."

"Room's paid," Jack said, kneeling astride James's waist. "You may have your beauty sleep, if you wish, sluggard."

James shook his head and smiled. "And you?"

"The Pearl's boat will be off the point before sunrise." Jack leaned down for another kiss and James saw the marks on throat and shoulder. His teeth.

"Jack..."

"Yes, James?"

"What," he stopped. Jack raised his brows. James tried again. "Last night..."

Jack grinned. "I told you, love. I'd a notion to see my Commodore forget himself for a bit. You're very... impressive... when that iron control of yours cracks, you know." James felt himself flushing. Jack's grin widened. "Enjoy yourself?" James nodded, "So did I," Jack replied.

Then the pirate was across the room, hand on the latch. He looked back and winked.

"Blame it on the moon," he said, and slipped away.

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