Pirate Vindaloo

Sweet Piracy

by

Hippediva & Elessil

The Penelope slid past and, as James' gaze wandered, she buckled. "Yes, that is the Dauntless, and yes, she once was my ship. There is no call to get jealous. Yes, I am looking at her. I sailed her for a decade. Shhh. You don't want to give a bad impression of both yourself and me to her, do you?"

Grudgingly, the Penelope calmed under his grip, sailing past and 'round the outcropping of rock with her usual grace. Once more, her deck groaned beneath him. James grinned. Now that was a pleasant surprise.

The tide took the Penelope into the cove, and they moored her next to the imposing black ship already bobbing on the waves.

As soon as James turned from the helm, the parrot's squawk greeted him. "Drink up or die! Drink up or die!"

He hid his wry smile and shouted across the small divide, "Ahoy there, Mr. Cotton. I take it this means your Captain is off on a binge, terrifying the town and its taverns?"

The wizened old face split into a grin and Cotton nodded at him while the parrot soared over his head, shrieking disjointed words amid unearthly squawks until the sailor pulled off his headscarf and flapped it about like a washerwoman with a particularly dirty sheet.

The Pearl had docked with the earlier tide and, despite the calm, her black sails cast weird shadows in the dying sunlight. She seemed as watchful as a cat in front of a mousehole and it was clear that her crew was off to enjoy Nassau's hospitality.

The parrot landed on the Penelope's capstan and glowered at her captain.

James sighed. "Van, make sure the little beast does not make a mess of the copper again. And keep Andre from roasting it."

The parrot made its feelings on the matter eminently clear by leaving a prodigious deposit on the Penelope's deck before flying back to the safety of the Pearl. Van snickered as she was secured and the crew began to mutter, all anxious for a night in port.

Matthew tugged at James' coattails. "When do we get to see Jack?"

"We will go look for him right away, young Master Matthew," James patted his shoulder. "Would you like to wait aboard the Pearl and play with the parrot? I promise to bring Jack back when I find him."

The boy grinned up at him. "Arrrrr!" he growled, putting his brand new knife in his mouth and removing it with a sputter. "Ew! That tastes terrible!"

"Which is merely one of the reasons you should not do it." James held his hand out expectantly and tucked the knife back into Matthew's belt. "Use it only if you have to defend yourself, or cut a rope. Or," he bent close to whisper, chuckling, "if you skewer that rotten beast of a parrot that defiled my ship."

He snatched the boy up, assigning watches and bidding the remainder of the crew a fine shoreleave.

Matthew sulked for all of ten seconds, then brightened. "Can I swing 'cross? Please?" he begged, before Ivan grabbed hold of him and they flew out over the darkened waters between the two ships.

James saluted the beaming boy, and, as an afterthought, grabbed the rope that swung back, landing on the Pearl's deck mere seconds later. He glared at the parrot and cleared his throat, keeping the pleased grin off his face. "Would you know which tavern Jack is haunting? The Sodden Sailor?"

Cotton gesticulated wildly before Marty answered him. "Aye. Mad Mick's back in town as well. He'll be there, prob'ly soused t'the tits by now!"

Cotton stared down at him as if to say 'How on earth could you tell the difference?'.

James laughed. "His, or that of the wench dancing on the table?" He bit back another rude joke for the sake of propriety and little Matthew, then straightened. "Very well, as long as you do not get too drunk to fulfil your task, there are several casks of rum aboard the Penelope, and I know how rare that is on the Pearl if Jack was on her too long. Just tell Ivan, he will help you out. A fine evening then, gentlemen."

The parrot screeched a farewell and Matthew chased after it, scrambling up the mainmast to wave as James swung down into a jollyboat.

It was cut short as a leather gag was thrust between his teeth, a blindfold slipped over his head, and two pair of hands wrenched his arms behind his back. Without thought, he struggled, flailing and stumbling around, hoping he was drenching his would-be captors in a stream of piss.

"SHITE!" There was a shout, a muttered "Finish yer business, mate!" and a raucous burst of laughter. Jack did a bit of growling himself, fighting against the hard hands holding him still and decided there was everything to gain from not wetting himself. He would have pouted but for the gag and stalled, digging in his heels and nodding violently towards his crotch. Whoever the ruffians were, they at least had the decency to tuck him in and button his britches. He used that moment to shift violently, and nearly broke free when a massive hand grabbed hold of his hair and pulled hard. "Stow it an' just walk."

His mind racing, trying to place the voice, he was hauled up like a sack of flour when he dragged his feet once too often. Kicking and bellowing against the gag, he felt them heave him left, then right, then left again until he had lost all sense of direction. The sole of one boot connected with someone and he got a savage surge of pleasure at the grumbled "OW!"

The rush of the waves became louder as they dragged him along, in counterpoint to the rough cackling and his own muffled bellows. Louder and louder still until he could smell her, a large ship looming and blocking the wind as they approached, cold and silent.

In the jollyboat, his legs and arms secured, he bit down on the gag and listened intently. All was silent save for the dip of the oars and sporadic bursts of laughter. Once more, he was hauled up and heard the echoing footfalls on the gang.

Jack arched, trying to kick with both feet. There was a shout and a splash, but any triumph was cut short as the hands bustled him into a cabin. A big cabin, smelling faintly of tar and lemons, almost familiar. The rum swirling in his head, he bit at the gag, forcing himself to remain calm. Winthrop? Had Hallem sold him out? He redoubled his efforts and was dumped onto a pile of softness. His fingers worked behind his back: linen, silk, pillows. He would have raised an eyebrow if anyone would have been able to see it.

His legs were held fast as his boots were pulled off, his breeches with them. There was another low laugh as he twisted and fought, making all manner of uncouth noises behind the gag. His arms were nearly pulled out of their sockets as his shirt and waistcoat slid up his torso. Within moments, he was stark naked, the scant hair on his body rising at the chill, his protests deeper and more indignant.

He heard one boot hit the floor and a stifled, "Gawd Almighty, what a stench!"

"Just get 'im in there, then."

Confused and furious at the treatment, he struggled with the ropes as he was lifted bodily and deposited into warm water.

He was so surprised he stopped fighting.

The sudden silence was broken by a bout of wheezing laughter, sounding rather like Turner's donkey with a fierce cold.

Several hands were still holding him fast as others began to scrub him within an inch of his life. Jack snorted a laugh and let himself be dragged into a hell of cleanliness. Any fear was gone with that laugh—"he would have recognised Bertie's snorting guffaw anywhere. The scrubbing took off at least two layers of skin and gave way to a soothing sponge. Jack figured there was no reason not to enjoy being bathed and lay still for a while, kicking and fighting only as much as seemed necessary to his reputation. He did try to bolt when his hair was lifted and thoroughly soaped.

Even through the gag, Jack's screech would have wakened the dead as he was doused with a bucketful of cold water. He flailed and kicked, keeping up a non-stop stream of unintelligible sounds as they dragged him out of the tub and tried to fight their way through his hair.

Some things were impossible and they quickly gave up on it, dumped him back on the bed and, just as he'd taken advantage of the half-second when they let go of him, he was pinned down, his wrists wound in soft material that stretched his arms over his head.

Silk was a lovely thing, but devilish when tied into knots. He continued to ape a fight, but as long as he didn't struggle too hard and pull the knots hopelessly taut, it was whispering soft against his skin. He felt terribly exposed, but, then again, he couldn't really blame anyone for wanting to expose him.

And he had a rather good idea of who was doing the exposing.

There was the unmistakable clink of coins changing hands, more cackling; the creak of the cabin door closing. Then, more creaks approached, and a gentle hand reached to release the gag and untie the blindfold, thumb caressing. "Welcome aboard the Penelope, Captain Sparrow."

Jack's dark eyes did not blink or squint, the way any normal human's would after being shut in darkness for a bath. The lashes, crumpled and sooty, fluttered like butterflies against a jar. "Jamie, you ruddy bastard!"

James clucked his tongue, his eyes twinkling merrily. "How often do I have to say it? Captain James Norrington." He circled the bed, trailing a finger along Jack's side. "What a welcome surprise to find you in port, my foul-mouthed mate."

"Where've ya been this past month or more? An' I can't say that were the most welcomin' welcome, luv. I was petrified fer me life." Jack tested the bonds and achieved as provocative a pose as they allowed. "Y'know, a simple ahoy would've sufficed." Pathetic had never looked so tempting. "Besides, Bertie laughs like an old bellows. Recognised it right off, I did!"

"I saw you did." James seated himself at the bedside, flattening his palm against Jack's chest, the heel pressing into the dip of his sternum, the long fingers just barely reaching a nipple. He smiled and brushed a kiss against Jack's lips, then withdrew. "I think it quite welcoming of myself to offer a reward to the man who brings you to me, hale and washed."

"Yer gettin' good at this!" Jack's face crinkled into a maze of laughlines. "A reward? Of wot? A drizzle o' pizzle, as it were? Did I get any of 'em?"

"Van did say I owe him a new vest in addition to the three shillings. I told him to take the rest of your bathwater. He left. Jack, Jack." James laughed softly, one hand wandering fleetingly over Jack's abdomen. "I always strove to be good in fulfilling my duty, and had I not been, I would not be here. Tonight, I consider it my duty to keep you from wreaking havoc in Nassau. Which entails keeping you occupied. All night." His hand slid higher, just barely tracing the gooseflesh on Jack's chest, up his throat, two fingers trailing his jawline.

Jack followed the finger until his eyes crossed. "I figgered you were a quick study. I mean, adaptin' t'circumstance an' all that. But innit this a bit like the tinker callin' the smith a knave? Or do ya just like pirate-huntin' so much you can't stop?"

"Perhaps." James grinned sweetly. "Perhaps I simply don't want to stop." His fingers slipped back further, pushing away the damp hair, then slid down to cup Jack's skull. With gentle pressure, he tugged until they meet in a kiss, his tongue and lips teasing Jack's until they parted. He withdrew. "And somehow I doubt that you want me to stop. Pirate hunting is so...thrilling, don't you think?"

Jack breathed out a sigh and grinned. Silken bonds and lavender soap, tongues and long fingers on naked flesh all met with his avid approval. "I'm daft, mate. Not crazy." He wanted another kiss: James' kisses were fun, all electricity and wet warmth. The air between them crackled like open seas just before a storm. "I must admit to enjoyin' a bit o' kidnapping myself."

James pulled himself back into a sitting position, and seemed unfairly disinclined to slip out of his clothing. "I do believe I enjoy kidnapping you. Although, technically," In that moment, his smile was truly devious, "It was not I who kidnapped you. I merely enjoy the fruits of Bertie's fine work." After a light tickle, he rose and strode through the cabin, lighting an array of lamps, then bent over a large, solid seachest.

"An' Bertie's idea of kidnappin' is t'break a man's concentration while relievin' himself? A bit of a low blow, don't you think? Did you actually pay 'em to do that, you insufferable toff?"

James turned and smiled, face shaded in the lamplight, raking his gaze over the length of Jack's body, spread out on the crimson, decadently soft silken sheets. "I told them to bring you here, with no more harm to you than the separation from your tankard. The remaining means were entirely their choice." He prowled closer, peering over the end of the bed, his breath warm against Jack's ankle.

"An' me worth half yer bleedin' Navy in ransom! I'm hurt!" Jack's wit might not be rising to the occasion but other parts of him were. He'd never seen James quite so predatory and it was a delightful look. Of course, it might not be if one were truly captive. Jack knew James capable of many things, and had always suspected him of a hidden streak of larceny.

"Do you think I should ask such a ransom from your crew, and keep you until they pay it?" That overly sweet grin was still plastered on James' face, an act, certainly, but real enough to make the light dance in his teeth.

"I like that thought." Another swift grin and he rose, padding closer, hand casually resting on Jack's thigh, as though supporting himself there rather than tickling the sensitive inside with calloused fingertips. "But do no worry. I am not a cruel captor."

Jack's head strained up from the softness of the bed, lips half-parted for another kiss. He pouted and squirmed. "Yer cruel enough. Subjectin' a man to a bath like that! Dreadful cruel an' ya went an' killed a fresh crop o' fleas I was savin' for you. Maybe you should instruct Winthrop on killin' a captive with kindness. I think he'd snort port!" Jack glanced down at James' stilled hand and grinned hopefully.

"Ah yes, the villainous torture of cleanliness. My apologies, but that was necessary for what is to follow, and your tale of fleas only proves that. Though I would have gladly saved said fleas for Winthrop. They are hell under a wig." James chuckled and arched an eyebrow, his gaze holding Jack's as his hand slid up higher, and higher; higher still... and then slipped out into a smooth caress of his hip, teasing the soft skin where it met his thigh.

"I will not have fleas in my new bed," James added, shaking his head avidly, then gestured at the canopy above Jack, his other hand stroking Jack's side as if lost in thought. "How do you like it? It is beautiful, isn't it?" he asked casually.

Jack groaned as his head hit the pillow. "I would have cheerfully saved the piss fer Winthrop. But wot in hell are you doin' here, Jamie? Haven't heard a peep of the Penelope fer moren' a month. Owwww! Yer a right tease!" He shifted, his face flushing and the part of Jack Sparrow incapable of lying was twitching.

He gazed at the canopy overhead and whistled between his teeth. "Where did you get this? Some French fancyhouse?"

"Jack!" James gasped. "You insult me. This comes from the Esperanza, a fine little Spanish merchant, or at least pretending to be. We took her just two weeks ago. They carried official documents which Commodore Archer has accepted more than gratefully."

He peered between Jack's legs, innocuously continuing his exploration of thigh and hip, kneading the tensing muscles. "Yet, I will not bore you with details of them, nor should I share them. However, the habits of the Spanish Captain might be of interest to you."

That sounded intriguing and Jack's ears perked to attention nearly as much as his prick. He got a bit confused between the avaricious corner of his mind, dazzled with a vision of loot, and the equally greedy flesh throbbing for as much as the brush of a fingertip. "You bloody pirate!" He could not have grinned harder had he tried. "James Norrington, you really are a devious bastard! How would anyone know wot's been lurkin' under that wig all these years? So wot habits raised the hackles on yer lovely English nape?"

James clucked his tongue. "Mind how you address your captor, pirate." His hand slid inward again and he tapped his fingers as if nervous, alternating between dipping each of them into Jack's navel, smirking all the while.

Exhaling audibly, he faced Jack once more. "I shall be generous and continue anyway. Captain Chavez is a sybarite, keeping his cabin well-filled and his ship stocked with luxuries that rival even the Pearl's." Grinning from ear to ear, he revealed a tall glass jar, filled with dark golden honey.

It was precisely the colour of Jack's skin and gleamed like liquid sunshine in October. The honey, however, did not have trails of gooseflesh nor did it possess a pair of eyes, dark as molasses. "He likes honey? I doubt that's a Spanish state secret, luv."

"Of course not. But trust me, soon you shall find it more interesting by far than documents of Spanish patrol routes, or information on an English captain with strangely bad luck in protecting merchant vessels from Spanish ambushes. Infinitely more interesting." James kicked off his boots and sat next to Jack's hip once more.

Jack forgot he was splayed out on the bed like a sacrifice until he tried to sit up and rolled his eyes. "Oho! A true Navy rat nibblin' on Valencia oranges. That's very interestin'. An' I would mind a gander at those patrol routes. Course, I'm willin' t'pay." Jack waggled the part of him most anxious to make that payment. It was uncanny how he could look so utterly innocent when plotting mayhem or debauchery.

James smiled down at Jack, sweet as though he hadn't ordered him tied up there, one arm sliding innocently around his torso, fingers trailing up and down between each rib. "What kind of payment did you have in mind?" The question was a low purr.

"I was thinkin' of something hard. Somethin'.....Jamie! Yer bein' a terrible tease!"

And again there was that not-quite innocent grin, that damnable vain pride in James' voice. "I know."

Jack was writhing under the touches and wrinkled his nose. "Since you went an' got me all clean, I think it's yer piratical duty t'replace all that dirt."

"So you want me to be filthy, yes? Let me see what I can do about that." Slowly, James pulled the shirttails from his breeches, tugging the linen away from where it clung to his back, then draping it over the chair.

He reached out and grabbed the jar of honey, opening it carefully to dip two fingers inside, twisting until the golden trickle ceased. With a sigh, he lifted them to his lips, almost tasted, then, instead, stroked them over Jack's lips, leaving behind a trail of gleaming, sticky sweetness.

Jack's tongue flicked out, pink and stealthy. The sweetness slid around his teeth and sugared its way down his throat. "I do believe you've got sinful thoughts in yer head. An' wot, pray tell, are ya gonna do with such a confection?"

"Savour it." Deed quickly followed word: James savoured Jack's lips, warm, wet and sticky-sweet. The kiss lasted longer than the honey on his lips and James, still dressed in his breeches had rolled half atop Jack before he pulled back, peering down. "I do believe that where sinful thoughts are concerned, you are...hardly one to talk."

Jack contorted himself into a knot until he could get at James' leg with one foot, stroking it up his thigh. His eyes half-closed. "Rather do than talk, mate." He tugged at the bonds a bit and sulked when James got off the bed. "Sin is only a matter of wantin', innit? I mean, the more folks want anythin', the more they call it a sin. Least that's how it seems t'work. Dammit, James, come back here!" Jack's toes were long and surprisingly agile.

His voice dropped to a petulant whine. "Jamie, I'm bloody cold! Come back!"

James bit back a groan and quickly plastered the grin back onto his face "Are you? Then why are you so flushed?" At least his hands now strayed to the buttons of his breeches. "On second thought..."

Jack groaned.

In one smooth movement, James climbed into the bed again, straddling Jack's shoulders, leaning over him. "I thought maybe you would like to acquaint yourself with my new breeches, and their buttons."

Jack stifled a laugh, his lower lip pushed out as he nuzzled the bulge between said buttons. "Shouldn't they have Biblical names by now? Or classical." He rubbed his cheek up and down like an amorous malkin. "Antares, Bellerophon, Creton, Dionysus..." His teeth gleamed, gold and pearl, as clever as his flexing fingers.

"The vanquisher of Chimaera?" James gasped, "I am not certain the Penelope approves of that, especially not after being such a fine aid in your kidnapping." He patted her bulwark, then sat back to pull off his breeches, stretching out beside Jack, two fingers tracing honey-slick lines onto his chest. "How about we settle on Dionysus being more...fitting...for this very moment?"

Jack yanked at his silken restraints, trying to get closer. "Got that right, luv. Mate? I could use a drink." His voice was low, a little hoarse. "Just a dram? Mixes lovely with sweets, bein' liquificated sugar, y'know. Is that a word? "

"Certainly, mead would also be more fitting than rum." James was busy lapping at the side of Jack's shoulder, taking his sweet time to lick away the honey. With a pleased moan, he reached under the bed, producing a bottle. "I had a suspicion."

Jack had enough sense left to remember how damnably silk knotted. His hair pooled around his head, dreadlocks and braids tossing like seaweed in a riptide. "Mead is the devil's work an' gives the foulest head. Jamie!"

"Good that this is rum then, no?" James gently petted his head, cradling it as though comforting a child. "It seems Captain Chavez was smuggling liquor as well. Why else would he need several casks of fine Cuban rum?" He was turning the bottle in his hand, the rum, golden as the honey, sloshing in it.

"You evil rotter! Holdin' out on me?" Jack was salivating, wriggling against occasional touches. "James Norrington, if you don't gimme a drink now, I swear I'll bellow 'Barbary Allen' at the top o' me lungs and follow it up with the Lyke Wake Dirge. I swear I will." The threat was rather spoiled by his delighted gurgle of a laugh.

James pointedly looked at the gag still perched on the nightstand, but he would never know if that made Jack's eyes widen, or the plop as he uncorked the bottle. Whatever the cause, it was quite irresistible and he decided it was high time to indulge both of them. The rum dribbled into his mouth, cascading down in tiny rivulets as he passed it to Jack in a sloppy kiss.

It tasted of fire and sugar and the warmth of James' mouth as Jack swallowed convulsively, his chin and neck dripping. "More, luv." He grinned. "I like th' cup."

"You like everything containing rum," James murmured, sliding fully atop Jack, braced on one elbow, honey gluing their chests together. Another kiss, more rum, then he tipped the bottle to Jack's lips. "I would like a drink myself, from my pirate cup."

"Drink up me hearty..." Jack's murmur was lost between kisses and swallows. His fingers strained and James' eyes had turned to green fire.

James almost lost his purpose, lips locked to Jack's, one leg thrust between his, pushing rhythmically, the friction sending delightful shivers up his spine.

Then the honey pulled at the fine hair on his chest, the sharp prickling startling him aware. With a nip to Jack's full, lower lip, he crawled lower, lapping at the sticky traces from before, sugar sweet with pearls of salt.

Jack laughed, then groaned again, more desperate, tugging at the silk, his legs twisting beneath James, eyes glassy as crystallised treacle. His head fell back again with a soft thump. "Drivin' me mad!"

James' answer was a long moan, delighted and eager, but he steadfastly ignored his hard prick, nudging it against Jack's thigh in a meagre substitute. They had all night for this, and the longer he took, the less time for Jack's retaliation.

It was maddening. James poured honey, lapped at it, then rum, eerily cool as a gust of breath caressed wet skin, watching as he poured more into Jack's navel, as it overflowed, cascading down the golden stomach and side like tiny waterfalls with every hitching breath.

"Yer killin' me! God, James! Least let me feel you again!" Jack's hips were gyrating wildly, his voice honey-sweet and rum-rough as he cursed and begged.

James had not spoken since he had crawled away from Jack's lips, all his attention occupied watching the tiny tremors, the gooseflesh he would raise and then slick down with his tongue; until it dried and rose again from a cool gust of breath.

He looked up, crouched between Jack's legs, his head resting on one thigh, watching how his breath teased the dark curls, thoroughly ignoring the hard prick. "Why?" he asked, his tone overly guileless and sweet.

"Aaah! Because it'll be a sad thing t'have t'pay a penny t'watch me locked up in Bedlam, twitchin' and screamin'. All because you went an' made me insane." Jack groaned and laughed in the same breath. "James, fer th' love of God, I'm stiff as bone!"

"I can see that." James reached out with one hand, letting two fingers trail lightly along said 'bone'. "I can feel that." Then he shrugged carelessly, pillowing his head on Jack's hip, one hand idle, the other weighing Jack's balls. "So what do you intend to do about it?"

"GAAAH!" Jack's arse bounced up and down on the bed. "Wot d'ya want me t'do? Dance in a petticoat for ya? Oh, damnation!" His spine arched, lifting his hips off the mattress, his prick straining towards the very fine canopy. "Spanish beds bring out th'devil in you!"

"Ahh, but could the devil exercise himself in patience?" James' unfaltering grin was exasperating. "Feel free to disregard me, but I for one think it is time to stop cursing... and start pleading." He nuzzled the soft skin at the crease of Jack's hip, pressing him down with his weight. "Manners can work miracles."

Jack glared at him, not quite sure if he was embarrassed or proud of his anxious mainmast, wavering just a little below James' hand. He whimpered, "Jamie, if you don't touch me, just a little, I may truly run mad."

"I believe your sanity is past saving," James chuckled softly, a low, rumbling sound and his own prick twitched against Jack's knee. He crawled up further, folding his arms atop Jack's chest and resting his head on them, grinning expectantly. Jack had often woken him in that fashion in this very cabin. "Your prick on the other hand..."

"Is desperate! If you don't take hold of it, I think it's gonna unscrew itself." His mouth was dry and he was alternately laughing and complaining, his voice rising in a dark whisper. "Please, luv? I want ya t'grab it, lick it....C'mon, James." Another shudder started near the base of his spine and he ceased speaking in words.

When preparing this plan, James had intended for a lot more begging on Jack's part, but his own prick was eager to take anything it could get, particularly if it involved the warm flesh it twitched against. "How about we have an...accord?" he panted.

"Parley! Definitely parley, but not too long, aye? I don't think I'll last!" Jack panted.

"Very well," James groaned, grinding himself hard against Jack's stomach, increasingly slick with sweat. "You tell me...exactly what you want. Ask for it. Now. And I will do it."

"Yer hand....fingers. Yer mouth. Goddammit, James, where've you been spendin' yer time? Want rum, honey. You." Jack was spiralling up to where sparrows and gulls flew, straining towards the teasing fingers. He thrust insistently in their general direction.

Rum and honey slid carelessly down Jack's cheek as James kissed him roughly, reaching low, his palm wedged between their hips. "Do you want to hear what I had in mind?" he growled.

"Mmmmmmhahphhhhh!" Jack was quite sure his brain was going to spring a leak. "James, fuck me, willya?"

James pushed against him, teeth scraping over the scratch of beard, then in another kiss. "My turn. I want to hear you beg for me...scream for me," he purred, tongue darting out for slow, languid licks, teasing Jack's lips, a considering pause between each, as if to give him time to catch his breath. It did hitch terribly.

Jack strangled on another moan, trying to move the immoveable Captain Norrington with his knees. "Jaaaaamie!" His wail could be heard topside and all the way down to the bilges.

"Shhh. You will wake the parrot. Trust me, you will like what I have to say." With every word, James crawled lower, trailing kisses that first tasted of rum, then honey, then rum again; then something distinctly muskier.

Jack was huffing, his neck tensed and straining to watch his captor, his face blood-dark. His lips tasted of sweetness and fire. "Say it! Do it! AAAAARRRGH!"

With a tense, victorious grin, James reached beneath the bed again. The vial of oil was full, and the liquid gleamed as it trailed down Jack's prick. He grabbed it, stroking slickly. "I thought I would prepare you properly; listen to the sweet, helpless, wanton little gasps you make when I do this," he twisted his grip, a finger of his other hand slipping into Jack at the same moment.

The low growls became a rather urgent, high-pitched squeak.

"That I would then get atop you, straddle you and let you sink inside me, slow, fast, however it might please me. And then—" he stopped all motion, looking contemplative, as though designing a battle strategy. "Then you would beg me to release one of your hands so that you can touch me, and take me with you to oblivion."

Jack's groan sounded exactly like the Pearl when he was driving her to her limits. He stared at James, eyes half-maddened. "P-p-please? Jamie, yer killin' me."

His head tossed and his words burned right to the ends of his moustache. "You evil bastard, don't you dare stop. An' a hand free is a helpin' one, innit?" Jack's laugh was lost as he thrashed at the finger's intrusion. "If you make me swoon, I swear, I'll tie yer prick in a knot!"

James chuckled breathlessly and threw one leg over Jack's, kneeling astride his thighs, fist and finger still busily working. "I advise against swooning. You would miss the best part. And a knotted prick might be less inclined to fulfil your wishes." He bent, sliding forward atop Jack, slowly, chest to chest, Jack's prick nudging against his stomach, then against his own erection, until it slid between his buttocks.

Shaking with the effort of keeping himself from flying apart at the seams, Jack managed a few guttural sounds that might have been words as he slid into James' slowly. Inch by slow inch, he was sucked into a tight glove of flesh and his head tossed back and forth, tangling his hair over his face. "Dammit, Jamie....can't...stop." His fingers were bent into claws.

"That is why you are tied up for this," James panted, lips parted, face a tight mask of ecstatic concentration. Settled, he leaned forward and reached for the bond of Jack's right hand. A fine sailor's knot, impossible to open for Jack, came apart under a simple tug, the silk drooping to release its captive.

The hand wavered in the air, punctuating every groan before diving to James' hard cock like a hunting hawk, palming it in counterpoint to the excruciatingly slow rhythm. The bed creaked and groaned until neither was sure if the squawks were the wood, Jack, or if Cotton's parrot was lurking in the rafters. Jack saw stars and held his breath.

He hadn't remembered James' fingernails being so sharp, raking across his chest, then digging into his shoulder, tensing as James' spine arched, dark green eyes fluttering closed, head thrown back; lips parted in a final moan. Then he slumped, sinking down again with a violent push.

Jack still had a grip on James, his fingers coaxing the last drops over his own belly and his lips twisted into a sated, wicked smile. He licked one finger. "Next time yer intent on blowin' me brains out, remind me not to object."

James draped himself artfully over Jack and stretched out, lips seeking out a lazy kiss. "That would most definitely be against the rules of the game. " He didn't bother to untie the silken bonds, playing with that of the left hand. "These strike me as practical. I wonder if I should leave them on you."

Jack clapped his right hand to his forehead melodramatically. "How shall I live with such degradation! Honey, rum, a few other liquids. You wouldn't let an old salt's joints go wonky on him, would ya?" The dark eyes, lazy as a cat's by a fireside, teased.

"Oh, since you are in my bed, I don't quite see the need of keeping you capable of walking." James grinned, but the game, despite its frenzied finale, had lasted for hours now, and there was little point in Jack being too stiff come morning. At least in the wrong places. He tugged at the other bond, kissing the abused wrist.

As soon as his hands were free, Jack grabbed James around the waist, pressing a kiss to the small hollow just atop the fine crease of his buttocks, then tickled fiendishly. "Jamie, Jamie! I'm surprised at you. Don't ya know never trust a pirate?"

"I might not trust the pirate, but I trust that the pirate is exhausted." James squirmed restlessly. "At least I had hoped so."

Jack tumbled them both back onto the bed with a laugh. "Worn out entirely!" he lied with a cheerful grin. "Yer an evil, depraved man. I like that." He leaned over James to grab the bottle and swallowed enough to flatten any human unused to existing on spirits and hope.

James intercepted the bottle and took a sip of his own, then curled into the soft mattress. "I should offer rewards more often," he yawned, then, very softly, on the brink of dreams, added, "Missed you."

"Wotever have you been readin' to give you such wanton ideas? Missed you too, luv." Jack wound his arms around James, pressed close as his hair tumbled over the pale shoulder. "Rewards! Think I got the best one t'night, mate."

"Don't need a book," James muttered sleepily. "The thought of you under me, like this, was much better inspiration." With that, he dozed off, a last remainder of honey sticking to the corner of his lips.

Jack's lids drooped and he murmured some unintelligible reply as he cast himself adrift to sleep and dreams. His last conscious thought was that he fully approved of the Penelope's new bed.

The Penelope, too, fully approved, and decided that the peacefully snoring pair and the promise of a new figurehead were wonderful rewards for her own part in the plan. She rocked and giggled, the Pearl giggling with her.

Above the sails, a dark shape flapped against the moon and screeched, "Tricks an' treats! Avast, ye buggers! Raise th' mainmast!"

FIN

BOO! Happy Halloween! And for those who want the precursor to this little confection, here is Pirate Vindaloo.

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