Wish 3

Jack kicked himself for not knowing better. He should have anticipated inclement weather and at least built a small, light shelter. Instead, he and James scrambled back to the tree line, grabbing their coats and wet blankets. They huddled under the thickest spot of foliage with coats thrown over their heads.

"Bloody bugger!" Jack growled. He had planned to set sail that morn, but the dark sky and the wind-driven rain told him that he would have to postpone. The dark clouds lined the way to the horizon, and Jack figured they wouldn't see a break in this weather until afternoon.

"You cannot set sail in that." James' voice came to Jack as a soft murmur. Jack turned to look at the man. James was not looking at him, but was looking ahead, towards the small camp, the remnants of the fire hissing steam at the downpour. Jack's leather satchel of provisions and the corked rum jug sat where he left it. James' gaze was flat and enigmatic.

Jack had to wonder what was going through that lovely, green-eyed head of his. He had to wonder how much of the previous night did he remember and how much did he regret?

"Then you will be on your way," Norrington turned cool green eyes towards him. Jack did not reply. What was there to say? He wasn't sure what James' tone meant anyhow. Was that scorn in there? Was he miffed at being left to fend for himself? Or perhaps it was anticipation, and James couldn't wait to be relieved of the pirate's company.

Either way, James would be on the island. It was good enough reason to consider constructing, at the very least, a small shelter.

"Come on, mate," Jack said rising, the coat over his head heavy with rain. "We need to build a lean-to."

"Better late than never," Jack replied with a grim, little smile. He started gathering whatever large fallen branches he could spy in the underbrush about them.

So we are back to 'Sparrow,' are we?

I have no doubt in me mind that this lovely little squall, complete with wind and lightning, is complements of one Tia Dalma, a.k.a. Calypso. A lovely way to secure a postponement to my departure. Not that I was in such a hurry any longer to leave... not just yet as things have started to develop here that are far more intriguing for the moment.

Yes, Barbossa will be looking for me, but he'd be hard pressed to see me tiny self on this island in this weather. And he ought not to bring the Pearl too close in or he would find himself shelved on a reef. I think I could stay just a day more.

Jack was wrong about the weather. The rain continued into the evening. They lit a tiny fire, as close into the lee of their shelter as they dared. The fed it with as much dry underbrush as they could find under the nearby bushes and trees.

James set out for a bit and returned with more fruit for supper. Jack, however, decided slush broth and biscuit was a rainy day kind of meal. He filled his tin cup with rain water and prepared the salty broth. The rum jug made a reappearance. There was only a fourth of its volume left. Fortunately, Norrington waved it away when offered.

Yes, it was fortunate, but at the same time, Jack was disappointed. He knew James would not loosen up as he had the previous night without a healthy dose of rum. Jack was interested in meeting, once again, that nice young man who allowed him to kiss him until he sighed. Jack made due by drinking alone and tending the small fire. It was dark long before sunset due to the cloud cover and Norrington sat huddled to himself on one side of the shelter. He had barely put more than three words together for most of the evening; However, Jack was only mildly surprised to hear this sentence aimed at him

Jack turned to face him. "I didn't think you did, mate." Jack offered the rum once more and James warded it off with a hand and a shake of his head.

"Do not make idle promises, Sparrow. And it is not you whose conduct I am concerned about."

"I rather prefer to be on a first name basis with a person I have just had the pleasure of kissing."

"I imagine so." James voice retained that dry, morose quality of before and Jack wanted to yell at the man.

"You do realize that most react with much more enthusiasm after being kissed by Captain Jack Sparrow." He only said it to bait James and get a rise out of him. Jack leered at him, waiting. The results were only a token effort.

"Yes, I suppose you shall have to excuse me if I do not swoon at your feet. I am cold and tired. My head is throbbing, and I have nothing left to my life but a lean-to and the torn coat of an admiral in the East India Company fleet."

Jack let the leer fall from his face. He watched James as James watched the tired string of smoke rise from their pitiful and damp fire. Jack turned back to the fire, stirring to a stronger life with a stick and some more semi-dry underbrush.

"So tell me then, why did you let me kiss you?" Jack asked. When James didn't speak right away, Jack assumed that there would be no answer to that question. And Jack really could not blame him. The man was probably confused and lonely. Jack was confused and lonely too—although much less confused as lonely.

"In my life," James said so softly that Jack turned back to him to catch his words. "I've had no more than a handful of kisses." He was quiet for a bit longer and Jack thought that perhaps he had finished his thought, but after a moment, James continued.

"Not counting those of family, of course. Those should be a given and a fact of life... But the taste of passion, was never given to me often. As you said before, Sparrow, I was focused on other things.

"When given to me for the first fleeting time, I knew not what to do with it. I was a fumbling boy for all my nineteen years. Confused, drunk, and feeling much out of my element, I let it happen to me in a whirlwind. When it was over, all I felt was relief. I never actively sought it again.

"I fantasized what my married life would be like, always jumping ahead from the wedding night to the two beautiful children and a content and comfortable home with a woman who understood me. I fit Elizabeth easily into that role, but I saw her in terms as I had only seen my own parents. I never witnessed their passion for each other. It was unseemly to present such displays before your children. I never witnessed father ever give my mother anything more than a peck on the cheek

"Will Turner offered her passion. All I had for her was a peck on the cheek, but it didn't mean that I loved her any less."

Jack sat the rum at James' feet. James examined the jug but did not move to take it.

"The shame of it... It is a strange feeling. It is a confusion of feelings." James frowned deeply, looking down at the sand and scrub-grasses before him. "The man was an eel. There is little to nothing I found appealing about him, and yet..."

"How could that be?" James looked up and into Jack's eyes with a look of pained confusion. "I kissed Elizabeth before I sent her off from the Dutchman. I kissed her with all the passion I could muster and yet... it lay cold and hollow in my soul, a shadow of real passion."

James turned away again, a blush staining his cheekbones. He spoke softly. "When you said that it was better than Beckett, you had no idea... how different... like night and day. I could have lived on your very breath...."

"I'm not keeping those kisses from you, luv," Jack replied in a carefully soft tone. "They are still yours for the taking."

"That is what I fear the most." James scooted out from under the shelter and stood. "Excuse me. I need some time alone."

For a moment, Jack had to wonder what the man's problem was before it dawned on him.

Too easy to give and too easy to take. Could this mean that dear Jamie fears becoming infatuated with me? Understandable, aye, and by his figuring, I'm a scoundrel who cannot be trusted. Best not to lose his head and heart to the likes of me. And he being a man of very little experience in the ways of love, as he has just confessed, could be too easily taken in.

If Beckett stirred him, it was only by virtue of engaging his curiosity. James' first experience sounded less than pleasant, and although it can be said that few of us have lovely experiences at that first time, James' recount sounds more like the perils of a young midshipman facing his lieutenant's exam than that of a young man finding manhood.

So it only sets me wondering what manner of Anglican clergyman scared the fuck literally out of young Jamie Norrington. Religion had much to do with this, and make no mistake. No one get so repressed without the fear of hell brewin' somewhere in his mind. Trust me. It t'weren't fear of the king's laws. That just makes a body very circumspect. The king only has eyes with which to see sin, and eyes can be deceived. But God sees all... if you pay heed to such.

Aye, there is some vicar back in England, to this very day, gloating over his victory over the budding libido of James Norrington.

It is a shame, indeed, for I would have liked to have sampled that passion. Been a long time since I've had any plunder. Perhaps there is still a chance.

Well, if he expected to see any of the plunder he currently contemplated, he figured he would have to work for it. "Treasure worth the 'avin'" Tia had told him in that dream, and as Jack thought of that warm, sensuous and sweet surrender of lips that he experienced the night before, Jack could certainly see why Tia had called James Norrington a treasure. He was certainly a treat, a feast for a lusty pirate. Yes, there would be no better plunder for Jack Sparrow than that which lay between James Norrington's strong, white thighs. Jack grinned as his imagination took him to a happy place that smelled of musky flesh and maleness.

"Been too long at that," Jack said as he stood from the fire. It was time to find yon fair ex-admiral.

It would be full dark soon and Jack had no intention of roaming the island on a gloomy and blustery night. It was time to get back to the fire. He approached Norrington, hoping the rum bottle he held in his grip would be offering enough to bring him back to their camp.

Before he had made it three steps, Jack heard Norrington's tired voice reach him. "Go away, Sparrow."

"That's Jack... or Captain Jack, if you please. I thought we had an accord, James."

"Hm." Jack looked about him. "Tis a small island and I dare say you are unlikely to find rum and other company than mine. But I say you have been alone and isolated for too long."

Norrington turned an intense scowl on him and hissed, "How could you possibly know my condition?"

Jack swayed back as if he had been struck at and managed to look utterly shocked and affronted. "I happen to know some of that which causes men to isolate themselves. You isolated yourself right properly after Elizabeth's rejection, did you not? You turned your resentment towards me and me Pearl and pursued to your own ruin. You isolated yourself even further then... and you see, mate, that's why Beckett was able to get under your skin."

"Isolation makes a man starved for touch," Jack said as he came closer, letting his hips sway provocatively while maintaining a certain, cocky swagger. "Aye, he is... was a repugnant little eel, but he was also a fine kisser, a well-experienced and well-traveled lover."

James turned away, his face twisting into a mask of loathing. Whether it was for himself or for Beckett, Jack didn't know. But there was no sense in stopping now. It was time for James to face the demons.

"He kissed you, he touched you, and he stirred you," Jack said plainly. "No shame in that, luv." Jack offered the rum jug casually. James took it, snatching it angrily from Jack's grasp.

"I should have had more control," James said in a soft, angry whisper as he pulled the cork on the jug and tipped it back quickly for a deep swig.

"Too long isolated," Jack replied matter-of-factly. "A kiss is a touch, too deep to be ignored by a lost soul, isolated. Put his kiss from your mind, luv." Jack's voice grew husky and soft. "Think of ours."

That got Norrington's complete attention and he turned to face Jack completely, a lost look in his eyes. Jack knew the man was still fighting it, but why fight? What could James Norrington possibly think he had to lose?

But the answer was too easy, and Jack was miffed by it when his mind produced the answer too readily: control, discipline, self. The man's own self-image was too damn important to him, and it was flawed, besides. Jack cursed that damnable vicar back on England's shores.

Which only told Jack that James was thinking of their kiss perhaps far more than he wanted. This would be tricky; the timing would be very precarious. Jack swayed in closer, reaching for the rum.

"All right then, James," Jack reassured him in a soothing tone as he took back the rum, letting his fingers stray in a small caress over Norrington's hand. "Then I shall be thinking of it all on me onesies? Shall I remember how sweet your lips tasted against mine?"

"Stop it, Sparrow!" Norrington hissed, his face closing off into an angry scowl. He turned away.

"You know what your problem is, mate?" Jack said in a carefully neutral tone. "You spent all your life serving others; now there's no one left to serve but yourself, and you don't know how." Jack saw Norrington flinch slightly at this.

"Give it up, mate," Jack continued. "There's no one to impress here. There's no lass to win or honor to serve. There is only yourself... and me... and I, for one, was more impressed with the kisses."

James looked at him again. "And you expect me to throw away a lifetime of discipline and order for a moment of carnal pleasure?"

"Look," Jack said in a more relaxed tone. "Your lifetime of discipline and order took you as far as Beckett's trained cabin boy complete with fancy wig and rank, none of which was all that impressive when you consider the source. You rejected that when you rescued Elizabeth and her pirate crew. Remember that little thing? Ah yes, you made a choice. So if I come along and offer to spice up what's left of your resurrected life, why should you hold on to principles that got you nothing but dead? Now, the way I see this be you and me and some rum and some... er..." Jack looked up as he stalled out, casting a perplexed frown to the uncooperative sky. He had been about to say moonlight, but the overcast sky stole the evening stars, making the night dank and black, almost too black. "Well, the fire light, and we could explore what sweet kisses can become. What say you to that?"

For a moment, James' eyes retained that "lost" look, but then they hardened to cold jade. "I say you are a vile and depraved opportunist, playing upon my bitterness and disillusionment," Norrington replied flatly.

Jack pulled back again wide-eyed and looking the man over as if he were suddenly covered with pox. "Eh? You are tough one."

"Not so easily wooed, Sparrow." Norrington marched off, pushing past Jack and heading back to their camp.

"Captain!" Jack called out indignantly to James' back. Then muttered angrily to himself as he kicked sand, "Treasure worth the havin'? Like boils on me bum or a bad case of the trots!"

Jack continued to mumble and sulk as he followed Norrington back to the camp. But just as he caught up with the man, his hurt feelings got the better of his mouth.

"Aye, not so easily wooed. I should have come to you with a commission and a ship. Apparently that's the only way to get a hand in your fine britches."

Jack really should have guessed what that would invoke. On the whole, he wasn't surprised when Norrington spun about, a twisted look of berserker rage on his face and his hands reaching for Jack's throat. The sheer force of the man's attack threw them both to the ground, grappling like wild men. Jack only just caught James' hands before they could close around his neck in what Jack was sure was a crushing grip. The rum was knocked away from them and began to spill onto the sand. That alone helped shore up Jack's resolve to fight back hard.

Jack pushed back with all his might; bringing a knee up to catch Norrington in the side like a kidney punch. If he had landed a little more under the man, it would have been his groin and the fight would have been over. Nevertheless, Jack took what he could get, and the kidney shot bought him a little leverage. And as he felt James grunt in pure rage and squirm his long body against him, Jack thanked the stars that it never occurred to the man to fight dirty. Certainly, those long legs could have done more than a little damage.

"Filthy scoundrel!" James growled as he struggled to get his hands on Jack's throat.

There was nothing quite like an obscure insult to throw your opponent off just enough. At James' look of confused consternation, Jack reversed the direction of momentum of the fight, flipping James neatly to his back. He held his arms out and away. They flailed uselessly, locked and evenly matched. Jack's legs fell to either side of the man so he could straddle him. It was a precautionary move against those who were flexible enough to hook a leg about a man's head and twist. It was an ugly way to get a neck broken. It was as their bodies pressed fully against each other that Jack felt it. There was definitely more in James' breeches than pretty white thighs, and from the feel of the hot, thickening length, it was getting quite interested in the goings on.

Jack wriggled himself ever so slightly on it and watched as a slightly panicked look flickered in James' eyes as he drew in a quick little gasp.

"Not so fast, Jamie. First you promise not to throttle me." Jack smiled provocatively. "Or else I'll be left to defending me life by rubbin' myself against you." Just to prove the point, Jack shimmied again.

James growled dangerously this time. "Get off! Get off me, you deplorable fiend!"

Jack couldn't help but laugh. Lying beneath Jack with his hair falling loose and his green eyes flashing unholy fire, James Norrington was beautiful. Oh, to kiss those lips again.

His hands found a way free from Jack's and they were soon wrapped about him. One hand grabbed a fist full of Jack's hair while the other locked on tight to Jack's right buttock. He found himself being ground into James' hot loins while James pushed up with desperate thrusts.

Jack wondered if he could get them disrobed down to flesh before James lost complete control. He tried to reach between their pressed bodies. If he could just get to the buttons of James' breeches....

With a desperate moan, James released Jack from the kiss to come up for air. Jack took advantage of the moment to try and soothe the man, whispering gentle words against his ear.

The hand in his hair and on his buttock slackened their grip and Jack eased himself back and down, careful not to lose contact with James. Fine tremors were working themselves through James' body, but Jack's hands smoothed firmly down him. Then he had those buttons. He was careful with James as he reached into his open breeches to tenderly pull free his erect cock.

"Ah, this is what she meant by treasure!" Jack murmured softly against the hot, silky flesh. He nuzzled in close, drinking in the musky scent as his lips lightly brushed James' balls. He listened as James' panted little groans turned to ragged moans.

James' hips bucked once shallowly and Jack shushed him with a gentle caress of his lips to James' hard length.

"Hush," Jack whispered, letting his lips travel lightly against the hot prick. "I have you now."

Jack placed a very soft kiss to the tip of James' prick. The head was flared beautifully, and the entire length was proud and firm, beautiful. Jack adored it from first sight, and knew he had yet to see a prettier prick. He smiled as he let the hair of his moustache gently tickle the head before he opened his lips to the proud beauty.

The breathy groan James let out was an intoxicating sound, so rich and deep. Jack smiled before he pressed the tip of James' length between his lips, but he got no further as James pulled himself violently up, pushing Jack backwards with brute strength.

Jack rolled backwards to sprawl on his arse, a surprised look in his eyes as he glanced over at Norrington, who curled in on himself, looking disheveled, disorientated, and more than a little debauched.

"You gotta make up your bloody mind, mate," Jack murmured and he pushed himself more upright.

James stared at him wild-eyed; his cock still blushed and firmly erect, contradicting his refusal.

"One minute you want t'kill me; then next you are trying to soil your britches against me." Jack shrugged innocently. "I just offered an enjoyable alternative, is all."

James face went crimson for a few moments and Jack thought that the man might make a second attempt at throttling, but the explosion never came. James sighed, looking down, looking defeated.

"He said..." James' lips pressed shut for a moment as he frowned in distaste. "...I wanted it."

"Aye, and maybe you did, but not from the likes of him," Jack said assuredly as he carefully scooted closer.

James looked up to him, his eyes meeting Jack's and the pain in his soft green eyes nearly took Jack's breath away. Jack knew this look. He had seen it times before, but usually aimed at Elizabeth Swann. Confused, forsaken, with his bruised heart in his hands, like a floundering man on a wide ocean, running out of strength and breath to tread the water; looking for something, anything to save him from going under.

Jack frowned, knowing deep down what James meant, but he formed the question anyway. "What's that, luv?"

The first of which was the response, "What makes you think I want or need it? Complicates things, luv... sticky emotions and all."

But as soon as my mind thought that, something else inside of me called me a big bloody liar. His heart, the gold, the goal, the treasure. It was more than that pretty prick that I wanted. Look at him! Every inch of the man is fine and lovely.

Yes, he had some character flaws that caused him to do me a little damage in the past, but nothing that was not fixable. He though he was doing his duty by all concerned. Too bad he didn't see soon enough that he'd been a dupe for a really nasty piece of work.

Poor Jamie lad! His tender heart has weathered too many storms. The pain must have seemed endless, and no wonder he wanted to stay dead. But I know from experience that the pain only follows you there. He is better off living, for what it's worth. His fortunes may change.

I know that is how I live with myself.

Jack smiled the most charming smile he possessed as he leaned forward to tenderly kiss James' lips once more. James did not refuse the kiss, but let Jack relax him back to the soft sand once more. Jack's nimble fingers tucked his shirt about his erection but did not attempt to place it back in his breeches. Instead, Jack gave it a loving little pat as he released the kiss.

"Now where did that rum go?" Jack reached over to grab the bottle that had been sitting on its side in the sand, a third of it spilled away. "Bugger!" Jack cursed softly. "You made me spill the rum."

Jack leaned back over Norrington. "But I think we can move past that tragedy, eh mate?"

"You would forgive me for causing you a loss of such magnitude, Sparrow?" He looked up at him with amusement re-kindled in his eyes. "Are you well?"

Jack smiled hearing the return of that particular dry humor and at the small light of a smile that sparkled in James' eyes. "Aye, luv. I'm fine."

He ran his fingertips lightly across James' cheek as he dipped in for another set of sweet kisses. Pretty man. Soft lips. Treasure. Jack was careful this time, making the kisses soft and slow and undemanding. James was responsive to them, relaxing slowly.

"Nothing wrong with a little pleasure, aye?" Jack murmured playfully against his ear. "Makes up for the rum."

Jack smiled down on James. He knew better than to take the bait. "It makes up for it, but I'll not hold you to the compensation. Although your attack on my person was... unexpected, I'll not call it undeserved. But I hope I can make up to you for that as well."

Jack smiled. James was relaxing again but the situation was still confused and unreadable. The man obviously wanted him, but something more than his precious heart was holding him back; something indefinable.

No, it had a name: Lord Cutler Beckett. How that man could scar a person in just a number of nights was legendary by now, Jack mused. James was lying; he didn't smoothly rebuff the man's advances. He merely stopped it before it went to a level that he couldn't deny his own duplicity.

"Did Beckett want your heart?" Jack asked softly as he ran tender fingers across James' cheekbone and then traced the edge of his jaw line to his proud chin. James snorted derisively.

"No. He wanted my loyalty. He wanted my skills... and he wanted my body. I don't think the man even knew what a heart is. I questioned the fact that he had one."

"Just curious... same as you were about my association with dear, dead Cutty," Jack answered softly, letting his fingers ghost lightly over James' lips.

Jack let a slow sultry smile glide over his features. "I am often tempted by bright and pretty things. You'll forgive my compulsion, sweet James, but guard it well."

With that, Jack came down for more leisurely, delectable kisses. James responded to them once again with that same tender surrender, allowing himself to respond lightly, shyly. Jack released the kiss, looking down on his sweet James, stroking back a wisp of dark chestnut hair that had fallen over his expressive brow.

James looked him in the eyes intently and Jack fell happily into pure jade. How very beautiful! The man's charms were boundless when he let himself be a little vulnerable. Jack felt James' hand moving below, and gazed down to see him pull up his shirt tails to expose once more his perfect member, still proud and erect. It was a presentation and invitation. Perhaps, at long last, James had decided to serve himself.

"Are you sure then?" Jack's question was a tender whisper nuzzled to the hollow at James' jaw just below his ear.

Jack looked back up into his eyes as his hand warmly closed around James' cock. "Then I shall be kind."

Jack kissed him once more, his lips worshiping James' as his hand ran reverently over the soft, silky skin of his hardness. He released it for just a moment as his other hand wiggled about to get himself free of his own breeches. As soon as that was accomplished, he had both of their pricks pressed together in his hand, firmly stroking them. James' head fell back from Jack's kiss and he gave a soft, broken groan, almost like a wounded animal.

James swallowed, his eyes sliding closed as he let it out in the softest, desperate whispered, "Inside me... I want you inside me. I need that. Please... please, Jack."

"As you wish," Jack whispered in reply. With a soft peck to James' cheek, he released him, pulling himself up to his knees. He retrieved the rum. He pushed it James' way again.

James sat up, shaking his head. "No. If I am to do this, I wish to be in full possession of my faculties. I'll not stumble through this time drunk."

Jack's smile widened. "My brave, sweet James," he murmured as he rolled gracefully to his feet. He reached a hand down to James to help him up from the sand.

Jack went back to their tiny camp and shook out one of the threadbare gray blankets, spreading it back out on the sand in the lee of the lean-to but away from the string of smoke from the fire. He then turned to James, beckoning him to join him with a single, outstretched arm. James didn't hesitate, but came to Jack, his green eyes flashing in the final fading glow of the day and the flicker of the still weak fire. He allowed himself to be drawn into Jack's embrace.

His lips were so incredibly soft and warm, and Jack could not get enough. Jack held on to that kiss even as he led James to the center of the blanket. At last he released the gentle kiss to sink to his knees before James.

With slow and deliberate care, Jack smoothed James' breeches down his thighs, looking up to James' eyes, smiling a most deliciously wicked smile.

"It's not every day a man such as meself is treated to such a fine and fancy feast. You'll forgive me if I just have one more taste?" Jack murmured up to him.

Jack suppressed a chuckle as he heard James gasp aloud when Jack took his member into his mouth. No more teasing kisses and caresses, Jack got down to business, sucking and smoothing his tongue up and down James' stiff cock. He let his tongue explore the shape of James' prick, taking in the silky texture of the flesh and the springy firmness of thick length. Ah, this was a taste that Jack could come to crave. Each sweet pull of his mouth milked out salty essence from James, with a distilled taste of what Jack had sampled at his neck. It was indeed a feast.

James' prick throbbed in his mouth. It pulsed and moved like a living thing, and James moaned Jack's name softly, begging for mercy. Jack laughed to himself as he wondered if he should give James mercy. Which would be more merciful, bringing him off now, or doing as he requested and taking his pretty arse on this blanket? Jack released James' prick.

"Come 'ere." Jack's voice was rough but soft as he pulled on one of James' hands.

James sank to his knees before Jack, and Jack took that opportunity to recapture his soft lips in another searing kiss. Jack knew that his tongue, just recently coated with clear salty issue of James' weeping prick, must still taste of that sea-sweet musk. He wondered how James felt about tasting himself on another man's tongue.

Holding James' face gently between his hands, Jack kissed him thoroughly, letting his tongue slide deliciously between tender, sweet lips. They had time enough and they had rum enough, and Jack wanted to savor this sweetness for as long as he could. Heaven knew when he would fall upon such delightful fortune again.

Yes, he was Captain Jack Sparrow, a man of infinite charm and seductive wiles, but this was no ordinary conquête du Coeur. This man was no ordinary man. He was a fine man, a gentleman and a one-time officer of the Royal Navy. He was also a rare and perfect beauty, too perfect of body to be plundered blindly; too perfect of spirit to be taken with negligent crudeness and disregard. He was like the wild, untamable sea; he was to be ridden with experience and care and no small amount of daring. Such a dangerous love must be wooed with patience and an attentive touch, and Jack prided himself of possessing such virtues as patience and dedication. The ten-year pursuit of the Pearl stood as testimony.

So, releasing the kiss, and with the lightest of touches, Jack traced soft lips, whispering against the warm skin of James' throat, "There, love, lean forward for me. I promise you a kind hand. How can a man not want to bugger such a pretty and perfect bum?"

He ran his hand slowly over the tight swell of James' buttocks and felt James tremble slightly as if he were fighting for control over his own person. Jack rested his lips against a pulse point on James' throat.

Jack smiled, lifting his head to look him in the eye. "That I will, but I'll not rush it. That'll be my first kindness to you."

With one last soft kiss to James' lips he pulled on James' hands to guide him forward until he was on hands and knees.

"Must it be in such an undignified position," James said, frowning back over his shoulder at Jack.

"Tis easier this first time, luv, and you'll thank me for it," Jack replied, his hand still smoothing errantly over one taut buttock. "And I have so much to show you yet. You'll not complain of the position once I've begun."

With that, Jack moved behind James, cupping a buttock in each hand. He spread them carefully, lowering his face so that his tongue could delve agilely into the opened cleft. The wet tip tickled downward toward the small, puckered entrance to James' body, and Jack chuckled, with anticipation, listening to James' gasps and exclamations. Oh, James Norrington hadn't felt anything yet! There was so much left to show and share.

Jack let his tongue ever so lightly touch, but then move on, downward, downward, to trace the wide perineum and to feel the soft tickle of the pubic hair about James' bollocks. He licked James' scrotum with long flat swipes of his tongue before his mouth ventured upward again, questing with lips and tongue, to touch and take James to a new pleasure yet unexplored by the man. Yes, Beckett had never had James like this; Jack would bet his life on it.

James' response was a yelp and a gasp, his body quivering tight like a bowstring with every touch of Jack's tongue. His breath became labored. Jack let his tongue play lightly about the tight entrance once more, never diving in too deep. He kept it up, smiling as he heard every gasp and muttered half-curse James emitted.

The small fire was not enough light to see clearly by, and Jack wondered what James' face must look like about now, taken unaware by the pleasure. His elbows now resting on the ground, James' head slumped down between his shoulders and his forehead rested on his clasped hands. His shirt, the only article of clothing left on his person, slipped up his back to blouse loosely at his shoulders. He panted and swore but held still and open to Jack's ministrations.

"Feels good, doesn't it, luv?" Jack murmured cheerfully against one smooth pale buttock.

The only response Jack got was a shivered sigh and a somewhat audible gulp. Jack's grin turned feral as he dove down for another taste. This time Jack let himself fully indulge, assaulting the sweet budded entrance of James Norrington's strong, hard body with a wicked tongue and tender lips and teeth. Jack's own arousal grew as he listened to each heated moan and sigh James let slip from his perfectly delectable lips.

To do this to this man, to this fine gentleman, to open his lust like a chest of treasure, and to luxuriate in the glow of his pure inner fire was like stumbling upon the greatest prize all the world and the seven seas had to offer. Jack had every intention of doing this right. He lifted for a moment, regarding the wet puckered opening, quivering slightly in excitement. James was almost ready, but not quite. Saliva wouldn't be enough to ease this entry.

Jack slung himself over past James to reach for his leather satchel. His hand fumbled over, and then pulled out the slush. It was certainly slick enough but Jack made a disgruntled face at it and pushed it aside. It was also salty animal fat. It would be the least comfortable thing for James' tender, virgin bum. His hand rummaged deeper and then fell upon a small jar. He pulled out the first aid salve he kept for burns and the like. It was made of the oil of a plant that was found only in the nations of the Barbary Coast. It would do perfectly.

Jack smoothed one hand up James' spine as he let the other fingers, coated with a liberal amount of the salve, touch his hole carefully. He rubbed James soothingly when the man flinched at the sensation of the cool, thick salve being applied.

"Hush," Jack murmured. "You're doing so well, luv. So beautifully... so beautiful...."

"Shh. It's alright," Jack crooned as his finger pushed deeper, slicking James' tightness and opening him with care. "Let ol' Jack show you the way."

"Shh. Hush now." Jack added a second finger and felt James contract around both digits with a small spasm. Jack's other hand continued to soothe, rubbing gentle circles on James' heated flesh. Jack leaned forward, pressing his lips lightly on the small of James' still bowed back as his fingers pushed in and out in shallow, slow movements. He felt James relax, bit by bit, until his back leveled, and until his head dropped once more over his clasped hands.

James let out a sigh that was like music to Jack as he felt the man's opening relax more so about his questing fingers. A little deeper now, just a bit. Jack pressed a kiss to the top of the curve where James' buttocks met narrow waist and strong back. Luxuriating in the soft warmth of his flesh, Jack let his lips linger, breathing against the smooth round of one of James' buttocks. His arousal was more than insistent, it was nearly intolerable as he willed his hand to stay slow and steady and his touches tender. But between his legs, he burned like a bonfire, his still naked member, straining, weeping in an unrelenting erection. Jack took in a deep breath and remembered the virtue of patience.

Yes, James was relaxing now; his breathing fast but deep and steady. Jack moved his fingers with deeper thrusts, reaching in to brush that special place he knew existed. It was a small nub inside of tight, hot softness and Jack found it, amazing himself and James more so, as the man let out a slight yelp and gave a shuddering breath.

James breathed out hard then spoke on another shuddering breath, "Yes... Oh, yes..."

Jack wiggled his fingers again, moving them in such a way as to both pleasure and loosen, and James was so responsive, wriggling back against Jack's digits, seeking that sweet connection again and again.

Yes, Jack was more than almost ready, holding himself in check, his desire straining inside his skin like wild horses. His breath quickening as he felt James pushing himself back with diminutive movements, fucking himself on Jack's fingers. The fire to take what he wanted threatened to consume him.

Jack unbent from over James, removing his fingers carefully and smiling at the muffled whimper James made when the contact was broken. He then took up the salve, drawing out another generous portion, he coated his painfully aroused member, hissing as the cool cream connected with super-heated flesh.

"Easy, luv." He lined his cock to James' flush and slick opening; his voice a gravely whisper, "steady...."

The whole of Jack's being burned with the effort it took to move so slowly, letting the head of his member breach the tight entrance and nothing more. The wet, tight, silken heat tore at his control, and he growled low between clenched teeth. So very tight, a sweet dream of sensual delight, the scorching, luxuriant feel of the beautiful man beneath him took his breath away.

He went slowly, so very slowly, because that was what Jack could do. He had patience enough and control enough to get what he wanted. It was something everyone underestimated in him. It was what made Captain Jack Sparrow special among pirates. It was what made him compelling as a lover.

Slowly forward, and Jack listened to the long moan that escaped James' lips, his hips trembling in Jack's grip. Jack pushed his shirt aside more and then gripped James' to hold them still and steady. He had not taken his own shirt or his breeches off. His breeches were just open and the waist stretched, the fabric biting in at his spread thighs. Breathing out deeply, he looked down at where their bodies joined and where his tar-stained, tanned and weathered hands gripped the pure cream flesh of James' hips. In the golden haze of lust and willpower, Jack took another ragged breath.

James Norrington! He, Captain Jack Sparrow, was practically balls deep inside James Norrington, ex-of the British Royal Navy! The famed Pirate Hunter! And yes, he knew Beckett had never had so much! A heady surge of pride gripped him, rushing through his body like a heavy breaker against the shore. It augmented the pleasure coursing through him, bringing it to new, dizzying heights.

Jack began to move, taking a slow rhythm at first, sliding in and out with deliberate care and finesse. He listened to the gasp and moans emitted from James and watched the tension of his shoulder blades as a guide to let him know if he was hurting the man.

But it couldn't last. James' body just felt to wondrously tight and delicious around him. Jack's eyes slowly closed as his thrusts began to pick up speed. Now he was living on the sensations of heat and unyielding pleasure and the keening, wordless cries coming from Norrington.

Yes, oh yes! Beautiful, firm perfection beneath him, surrendering to him. Now James was his. Take what you can; give nothing back!

He had wanted to pleasure Norrington, but he was too far gone. There was no going back, and he crested on the pleasure's intensity, tumbling full into his orgasm to drown in its sun-bright waves. He cried out upon the last, between clenched teeth. Finally his jaw unclenched and his mouth opened to drag in needed breath. He let his head sag on his neck as the last of the sparkling climax fell away. It was done.

He was very careful when he extracted himself, not just for James' comfort but for his own as his member, now spent, was hypersensitive. He then helped ease James down from his knees to lay on his side on the blanket. James panted, blinking ahead of himself, looking into the island night, but he said nothing. His member was still partially erect; so Jack figured it must have been pleasant enough for him. However, Jack still felt a sting of guilt at not seeing James through to his own climax.

Jack lay behind the man, spooning him. He propped his head up so he could look over James while he smoothed down James' flank with a tender hand.

With that, Jack's hand dipped down until he held James' member in his firm grip. It only took a few strokes to get him totally erect again; then he held the man, letting him strain back against him, his breath once again coming in a ragged pant. Finally, with a short cry, James came; hot, white streams of seed pulsing from his member. Jack held the organ in his hand a little while longer, not stroking, but simply holding, cradling it as if it was in his care and protection. He held it and James until James' eyes closed and he slept.

One Silly, Bloody Wish Later

Part 3