Perhaps it was the season. With Christmas just a few days before and the New Year closing rapidly, it was certainly the time for miraculous things to happen. So, when the admiralty insisted Commodore James Norrington take a leave of absence, James had regretfully done so. James knew that they were investigating the whole "escape of Jack Sparrow" situation so he had gone to Nassau for a visit with some old friends. That was how he managed to end up being caught by a French privateer.

The more interesting tale, though, was how Jack Sparrow came to be caught by the same French privateer. It involved somehow a duel to the death that had gone awry, a buxom and sweet-faced harlot named Cherie, and a shipment of raisins ("humiliated grapes, really") but Sparrow's ramblings were too difficult for James to follow when Jack was still under the influence of several mugs of rum. But, James was used to Sparrow making grand and glorious entrances and exits. Still, Norrington was seriously in doubt that Jack Sparrow ever came to be in a place where he didn't want to be. Not even the brig of a French frigate, anticipating a long period of torture and captivity—or a swift death, with a man who had twice come closer than any other to breaking that ill-mannered and dissolute neck of his.

But it's a lovely neck, the voice said in James's head. Commodore Norrington suppressed all but the tiniest quirk of a smile at that. The last few months, since the incident at Isla de Muerta, since Elizabeth Swann had ostensibly broken his heart, he'd come to realize that he missed Jack Sparrow. What's more, he found himself having the most lewd and lascivious dreams about the man, dreams that he'd never had about anyone else. Frightening dreams. Dreams that made him awaken touching himself to completion. Most enlightening dreams. Dreams that began very similarly to his current situation.

At the moment, Jack Sparrow was sleeping off those many tankards of rum in the corner of the cell they shared. There was one blanket between the two of them so James settled for sitting in the opposite corner and letting Sparrow have that benefit. And the neck in question was very much exposed. One might even say defenseless, James said, noticing that the neck wasn't grimy as he might have anticipated it being. Cleanliness is next to Godliness.

"I'm going mad," James muttered quietly, rolling his eyes to the decking above him. "There's no other explanation. I'm going totally, utterly, completely insane."

"Now, why would ye say that, mate?" Sparrow opened first one eye then the other before slowly sitting up. As he became vertical, he placed one hand to the top of his head. "Bloody hell, feels like me head's 'bout t' burst."

"It's what you get for drinking that devil's concoction, Sparrow," James said in his normal tone.

At the sound, Sparrow's other hand flew to his head and he pressed both hands over his ears. "Dammit, man, can't ye see there's a bloke dyin' here? Am I bleedin'?"

He wiped at first one ear then the other before holding his hands out to inspect them for blood. At that point, he glanced up at James, as if seeing him for the first time.

"Bloody hell!" He gasped, squinting at Norrington in the low light. "It really is you! Here I thought it was another of me dreams!"

Norrington frowned and tempered his voice a bit. "Dreams, Mr. Sparrow? Or nightmares? Considering our history."

The grin started out lopsided then spread to full-on brilliance. Norrington did his best not to reveal the hard gulping sound he made. "Oh, I mean dreams, love, mos' definitely dreams."

The words were on James's lips to ask what kind of dreams those were when Sparrow staggered to his feet. He braced himself against the cell-bars and the bulkhead. "Whoa. Where are we, mate?"

"I am not your 'mate,'" James said, resisting the urge to offer a hand to steady the pirate.

Sparrow glanced up with a wicked leer on his face. "Ye could be, savvy?"

Norrington raised his eyebrows, attempting to look casual. "And why would I be interested?"

Jack turned to look at him then dazzled him with a naughty smile. "Ye didn't answer me question, love. Where are we?"

"We are in the brig of Captain Yves Delacroix's L'Argent Vole(1), somewhere between Nassau and God knows where. Why do you ask?"

Sparrow tilted his head in such a way that the dreadlocks shifted and exposed that lovely neck. Norrington fought unsuccessfully to avoid staring at that flesh. Then he realized Sparrow was speaking to him. "Like what ye see, love?"

James snapped out of the reverie and met Sparrow's gleaming black eyes. "No, I-I mean . . . Confound it, Sparrow, answer my question. Why do you ask?"

Jack held up both index fingers and squinted at him. "Treasure, love. Pirates do precious little that don't involve treasure in some portion, savvy?"

James grimaced. Why had he even bothered? "And what treasure would that be?"

"Does it matter?" Sparrow countered then cocked his head as if listening. "What time o' day, d' ye suppose?"

At that second, a door leading into the hold opened and two men entered, one carrying a tray with bread, cheese and a pair of large cups, the other a bottle. Norrington glanced at Jack. "Mealtime, apparently."

Sparrow raised his eyebrows in response and swayed as close to the bars as possible. "Bonjour, les amis, quel jour et le temps l'est-il?(2)"

One of the men eyed Sparrow in a fashion that James found most disturbing. When he stepped close to the bars himself, Norrington took a menacing step forward on his own part. The man glanced up at James and smiled. "Il a l'air de votre ami de marin est un petit jaloux, non?(3)"

Jack smiled, openly flirting with the man in a way that made Norrington roll his eyes and move away. The disadvantage to moving away, James discovered, was that he could no longer hear what Sparrow had to say to the man. There was some laughter shared (at my expense, no doubt, James pondered darkly) then the men handed the food over to Sparrow and left.

"A hand here, mate?" Jack said, balancing food, drinking vessels and bottle precariously as he turned to face James.

Norrington began to clap his hands together slowly. For a few seconds, Sparrow was obviously taken aback. When he recovered, he narrowed his eyes. "Was that an attempt at humor, love?"

James looked away, suppressing the smile, and stepped forward finally to help Sparrow with the meal. To his shock, as soon as the food and drink were set aside, Sparrow locked his hands behind James's neck and planted a soft, wet kiss on his lips. James lost himself in the sensation as seconds ticked by. It brought to mind the incident in the Port Royal gaol where Jack Sparrow had, through the bars of his cage, granted James the little mercy of release even though he yet faced a hangman at the dawn. But he's a pirate, James found himself thinking and, quickly, pulled away. Without another thought, he slapped Sparrow across the face.

When Sparrow recovered, he grinned lopsidedly. "Ye musta liked it."

"And why would you say that, pirate?" James fought to keep his voice blasé.

"'Cause I'm still standin', love. If ye had really objected, ye would have laid me out," Jack settled himself on the floor near the food and patted the blanket beside him. "C'mon, dinner's served. Cap'n Jack don't bite--hard."

"Do you have a plan for getting out of here?" James asked, approaching but not sitting.

Jack shrugged. "Aye, more or less. Still, we have some victuals, a nice bit o' vino—always did like the way the French treat their prisoners—an' a few hours t' kill. Any ideas about that, love?"

James harrumphed, much the same sound his father made before he did whatever it was that his mother wanted him to do, then sat down at the far edge of the blanket. Jack tore the bread in two while James did his best to divide the cheese. Jack filled the two mugs with wine and settled back against the bars of the cell.

"So, Commodore, settle a wager fer me. I bet Anamaria that ye had somethin' goin' on the side with one of those pretty lieutenants o' yers. She thinks yer the type t' visit the local house o' disorder. Which is it?"

James did his best to ignore the black eyes that sparkled with merriment. "Firstly, Mr. Sparrow, I would prefer not to discuss matters of a personal nature with you. Secondly, it is hardly fit dinner-time conversation. Thirdly, a gentleman never discusses his lovers in public."

"Ah," Jack said quietly. James watched him take a drink from the mug then speak with his face still hovering in it. "So it is one of the local ladies of the evenin'."

"Absolutely not!" James spluttered. He felt his cheeks grow hot with embarrassment. "I would never--."

He became aware then that Sparrow was grinning at him, his eyebrows raised suggestively. He glared at Jack as the pirate spoke again. "Some men say 'any port in a storm.' Me, on the other hand, I say 'better the devil ye know.' T' be frank with ye, Norrington, I would never have given ye aid an' comfort in that gaol cell if I hadn't been certain I knew ye pretty well. Which lieutenant is it?"

James cast his eyes heavenward but wouldn't look at Sparrow, who chuckled. "Ah, both o' them. I'm assumin' not at the same time, o' course."

James glowered at Jack who merely gave him that coy look. Something about the way the pirate arched that neck and slid those eyes sideways made fire shoot right to his belly--and below. For the first time in years, Norrington acted on impulse before his logical mind could stop him. He grabbed Jack's nearest arm and pulled the pirate atop him. When Jack was within kissing range, he slipped a hand up to shove the hair aside, his fingers tangling in the braids before finding the warm, tender flesh. He traced his fingers across rough scar tissue located down the side of Jack's neck. Jack shivered under his touch and opened his mouth to the thrust of the Commodore's tongue.

James dragged Jack to the floor as he let himself ooze to a flat position. The full weight of the pirate fell onto him as their chests met. James growled when Sparrow's upper thigh brushed against his groin. With a shift of weight and a little muscle, Norrington rolled them over so that Jack was under him. He heard Jack grunt slightly and James smiled a bit, pressing open-mouthed kisses to Jack's throat. Jack exhaled with a shudder when his mouth addressed the soft spot at the corner of his jaw. At the sound, James applied his teeth to gentle nibbling there.

He felt Jack's groin press into his hip. Remembering the sensation of those delicate fingers on his cock, the way they worked him to the brink then gently subsided time and again until he was practically gasping and clinging weakly to the bars for support, James reached for the opening to Jack's trousers. When he had the laces nearly undone, Jack shoved him off.

"Commodore-James, wait. What's-What's the hurry?" Sparrow's eyes were wide in the darkness of the cell.

Flummoxed, James frowned. "I thought-You seemed to want-What?"

He tried to regard the pirate before him as merely someone to slake his passions with but the dark eyes narrowed and the head lowered a bit. Something's upset him, James realized and the vulnerability Sparrow was exhibiting knifed into him. A moment passed then the hand with the large silver and emerald ring rested against his face, the thumb stroking across his lower lip in a way that made him shiver.

"I do, love. I do want--what you have t' offer. I-I jus' don't understand it, an' that scares me," Jack drew a breath and blinked once slowly. "Ye have t' understand, Norrie. I fuck a lot o' people. Ladies, pirates, blacksmiths, if they'd let me, but uniforms ain't never done much fer me--until now. I jus' don't know if I'll be able t' stand it when they tear us apart. An' they're gonna do that. Ye know that as well as I, don't ye?"

James hesitated before speaking. The reality of the situation was now taking shape in his mind. Jack Sparrow, pirate, was not able or willing to stop being a pirate. James Norrington, Commodore of the fleet, was not able or willing to stop being an officer of the Royal Navy. Like Romeo and Juliet, he thought then chided himself for being so maudlin. Neither he nor Jack was a foolish, sentimental child. They were men of the world.

Coiling his right hand into Jack's braids, James resumed his work at the front of the pirate's breeches. Jack inhaled, his eyes widening in surprise. Norrington spoke.

"If there is one thing I have learned in my life, Jack, it's that stolen fruit often tastes the sweetest. I do understand why you pirates do what you do. That freedom from stricture is a heady, heady nectar," He paused and kissed the corner of Jack's mouth. "But understand this, my love. The soul of a pirate does not mean the body cannot be a law-upholding, disciplined sailor. Bound together in physical union is only one manner for love to live. Neither you nor I would do well in such a union."

His hand found Jack's cock and helped it find the open air. He was running one knuckle gently up and down the underside of Jack's manhood, enjoying watching Jack shiver in delight at the sensation. Jack licked his lips and managed to meet his gaze.

"Ye mean ye don't want t' run away an' join me crew on the Pearl, love?"

Norrington kissed him again on the other side of his mouth. "I do not wish to turn pirate, no. Anymore than you could or would walk away from her."

His hand drifted from rubbing the little limb down to stroking the testicles, letting his fingers shift the skin of the sac as he rolled the balls gently to and fro. Jack's hands drew him closer to the pirate then one began to fumble at the buttons of his trousers. He thought, briefly, about seizing the hand to hold it away, demonstrating to Jack that discipline meant so much more than obeying rules, but the wine spoke in his head, begging for mercy for this night, if for no other.

"We'll take our pleasure where and when we can," James said and gasped as Jack's hand finally freed his own rod from its confines. "I cannot profess to love you then ask you to change so fundamentally. I love you for who you are. While I may hate that your life of piracy will keep us forever apart, I also hate that even if you were to give up such a sordid lifestyle, we could still never be true to our hearts because of the expectations of my small-minded world. So we must be happy when we can."

Without warning, lulled into thinking he was mastering the situation, Norrington was abruptly rolled onto his back as Jack sealed their mouths together. A flash of anger and irritation made James imagine the mouth pressed to his as an enemy combatant. The tongue that invaded him was nearly seized in his teeth before he began to press his own attack. A low growl left his throat involuntarily.

Jack's mouth moved away from his then and the pirate crawled down his body until those smug, lust-inspiring lips were able to part and engulf his cock. James gave voice to a guttural sound, one from the depths of his animal nature, and his free hand buried itself in Jack's hair as well. Discipline, he reminded himself, and let his hands merely play with the black locks despite the quickening desire of his muscles to force the pirate to pleasure him with greater dispatch. Jack's hands cupped his buttocks through the fabric, the fingers probing at him cautiously. The sensation of the braids on Jack's chin tickling his balls sent him unexpectedly from desire to satisfaction. Another cry of elation wrenched from him that he managed to quiet by closing his mouth and gritting the teeth shut.

He must have lost consciousness for several seconds because the next that he was aware, a hand was gently stroking the valley of flesh in his backside. He was on his stomach, his trousers down around his knees and he felt braids lashing his back as a mouth inched its way up and down his spine. He felt Jack dragging his lower lip across his shoulders and hot breath made him shiver. Jack spoke hoarsely.

"Ye seem t' think that pirates have no discipline, love," One of Jack's fingers began to work its way inside him and James caught his breath. "Let's find out, aye?"

He started to answer when the second of those tantalizing digits pushed at his rear port. He tried to push up then realized his hands were bound by his own neck-kerchief to a bar of the cell. An attempt to speak made him realize there was silk in his mouth as well, knotted in place. By the smell of seawater, cordite, rum and sweat, James guessed it was Jack's head-scarf that held him silent. His whole body convulsed with desire when the pirate began to stroke the sweet-spot within him. His penis jolted back to full arousal and he twisted his hips to ask Jack for more.

He heard Jack chuckle and the sound ran goose-flesh up his back. The elusive fingers moved away then, leaving him hungry in a way that few things had ever left him to feel. He was about to panic when the pirate's hands began to undo the gag. He leaned instinctively toward the body-heat Jack gave off but his only reward was that low laugh.

"What d' ye think now, love? I can leave off the way things are, savvy?"

"I think," James swallowed hard at the roughness that the lust put in his throat. "I think discipline is a relative term. And I believe that pirates have their own kind of--" he had to clear his throat, "discipline. I believe, Captain Sparrow, that you are the master of that kind of discipline."

The grin that Jack bestowed upon him was glittering, even in the dark of their cell. Sparrow leaned in and kissed him, lips and tongue encouraging Norrington's to cooperate. When Sparrow straightened, James found his hands freed. He drew his hands closer to his body then caught Jack's arm.

"Finish what you started," James said, his voice husky.

Jack beamed and winked then resumed his place between James's thighs. When the heat of the pirate's body covered him, James sighed. When the pirate's cock breached his defenses, sliding into him with an ease that astounded James, he whimpered.

Somewhere above, he could hear men singing and a cannon being fired. The new year had begun. As Jack Sparrow's hips began to move, seamlessly filling him then retreating, he found tears on his face. A new year, a new life, he told himself. A new life, a new love.

Minutes later, when Jack achieved his own satisfaction and Norrington drew him into his arms, he heard the pirate mutter something merrily. "Take what ye can an' give nothin' back."

"Oh, I wouldn't call your gift 'nothing,' my love," Norrington whispered, nestling his cheek against Jack's hair.

"Happy new year, Norrie," Jack replied.

"Happy new year, Jack," The Commodore smiled then said, "Call me James, hmmm?"

(1) The Silver Wing
(2) Hello, friends, what day and time is it?
(3) It looks like your sailor friend is a little jealous, no?