Title: In the Dark
Author: Melusina
Feedback: melusina@culturalinfidelities.com
Series: Besieged: Part 3
Part 1 is 'The Good Bargain'
Part 2 is 'Fish on the Line'
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack/Norrington
Warning: Power play, bondage
Beta: Thanks to ceria_taliesin for her beta read.


Besieged 3: In the Dark
by Melusina

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"Sparrow?" There was no answer. James' eyes strained against the darkness that enveloped him, but nothing could be seen. Not so much as a sliver of moonlight illuminated the cabin. He listened intently, but heard no sound but the slap of water against the hull as the Black Pearl swayed and rocked in the water.

He tugged futilely at the chains that bound his wrists, all the while berating himself for falling for Jack's trick. Jack knew him too well, knew that James would forget caution in the pursuit of duty. Just when he thought he'd outwitted the pirate, he realized it had all been a trap, and he'd played right into Jack's hands. James banged his head back and swore a stream of profanity worthy of Jack Sparrow himself. God, he was such a fool.

In desperation, he called out again, indignantly. "Sparrow! What have you done with my uniform?" Again there was nothing but silence.

Long minutes passed. James could not have said how long it was before he drifted off. He slept for a while, despite the discomfort in his shoulders and wrists, and awoke again to the click of a latch closing. Somewhere nearby there was a rustling sound.

"Sparrow?"

Footsteps approached.

James tried again. "This game has gone on long enough. I demand that you release me at once!" The imperative tone sounded ridiculous even to his own ears.

Sardonic laughter. "You're hardly in a position to make demands, James."

"That's Commodore Norrington to you." James' voice held the same querulous note he'd so often heard in Jack's.

Jack was close now. Something about the heat pouring off his body told James that he too was unclothed.

Clever fingers brushed against James' cheek, traced the high curve of his cheekbone and then drifted south in a light, careless touch. "Not here, mate. We left Commodore Norrington behind, with your wig, and your fine hat, and your uniform. Here, there's just James-" A squeeze for emphasis. "And Jack."

Jack leaned in closer. Something poked James' cheek - that damn bone Jack kept in his hair, no doubt. His voice poured into James' ear, taunting and rich with innuendo. "Tables are turned now, savvy? You've. . .had me at your mercy. . .and now I've got you at mine."

The implicit threat in the words made James shiver. He thought of the rough and careless way he'd used Jack when their positions were reversed, and wondered how Jack would extract his revenge. A nagging voice in James' head told him that no matter what Jack did, it would be no more than he deserved.

Jack nestled even closer to James, rubbing his hard cock against him and leaving a wet trail along James' thigh. The faintest whisper of a kiss, then Jack flicked his tongue out to taste the corner of James' mouth. James flinched away, but Jack pulled him close again, holding him firmly as one hand slowly dragged down the length of James' body, toying with his nipples, lingering on the sharp point of his hip. All the while his tongue was swirling and circling along James' chest, tracing intricate patterns on his skin.

James' breath was coming in short bursts, filled with needy little sounds. He no longer seemed in control of his body, for no matter how much he willed his hips to stay still, they insisted on arching up in a desperate attempt to bring his cock into contact with something, anything.

In contrast, Jack was collected and cool, his breath even, his movements measured and steady. His hand moved to the small of James' back, rubbing tiny circles, then dipping lower and brushing against the opening there.

When James stiffened and jerked away, Jack made an amused noise. "Y'don't know what you're missing." His fingers danced along James' spine, then, with an aggrieved sigh, he moved his hand back to James' front, grazing it over his cock, then running the tip of his finger around the head.

A bolt of pleasure shot through James and his breath caught in his throat. Contradictory feelings warred in his mind - longing, anger, lust, fear. He had to stop this, to get away from this torment. He'd braced himself for cruelty and abuse. He could take any torture Jack could devise. Anything but this. . .tenderness and solicitude. This was not how things were between them, and it seemed the cruelest trick of all to pretend that it was.

As if he sensed James' confusion, Jack's hand moved to the nape of James' neck, to the hair trimmed neatly to fit under his wig. "I didn't know it'd be so short." His voice was tinged with wonder. "It's soft - like velvet." He ran his thumb repeatedly over the fuzz at the base of James' skull, and James felt the fight drain out of him. For a long while there was nothing but the sound of their breathing getting heavier and the curiously reassuring pressure of Jack's hand on James' neck.

Jack fumbled with something and when his hand returned to James' cock, it was slippery and wet. James thrust into the grip helplessly. Before he could understand what was happening (in all his fears and fantasies of what this moment might be like, this had never occurred to him), Jack was in his lap, easing himself down onto James' cock. It was as tight and hot as James remembered, although it was different with Jack controlling the pace. He kept it agonizingly slow, pulling almost all the way up and then lowering himself back down, his deliberate movements enough to inflame James' desire, but not to bring it to its natural conclusion.

Here, in the dark, it should have been completely anonymous at last. James should have been able to imagine that the body riding him was anyone - the buxom red-headed barmaid from the Sailor's Rest, Elizabeth Turner, even her too-pretty husband. But instead, the dark only made him more keenly aware of all the ways that this could be no one other than Jack Sparrow. The baubles in his hair clacking together as he shifted up and down, the sibilant hissing sounds he was making as his control began to slip, the sea-salt smell, the taste of rum and gold in his mouth when he ducked down for a kiss - it was all Jack through and through.

The pressure built in James' body, but the steady pace gave him no relief. His hands clenched reflexively. Whatever remnants of pride he still had abandoned him and he begged abjectly, hardly aware of the words that were spilling out of his mouth. "Please. . .Sparrow. . .oh God. . .I need. . .Jack. . .please. . ."

Jack's voice was confident as ever, but there was a slight hitch in his breath. "All y'had to do was ask." He sped up then and kissed James deeply, as if he would consume his very essence. James felt everything in his body rushing toward his cock, rushing to meet Jack and to join with him. He was crying out now, incoherently and Jack was whispering in his ear, "Shh, love, shh." But none of it meant anything to James. He was lost in the blessed relief of giving himself over to this moment, of surrendering to Jack, and then he was spilling himself deep in Jack's body and Jack was groaning too. James was dimly aware of Jack's hand between them, on his own cock and then Jack shuddered and moaned through clenched teeth, and the sound he made might have been James' name.

James had never felt anything as satisfying as Jack's sticky weight atop him, heart pounding against James' chest and his breath hot and fast on James' neck. But eventually, James again became aware of his bound hands, and the cramps that were now shooting through his shoulders, and of the cool night air that chilled his body everywhere that Jack was not covering him. James shifted tentatively. "Er. . .Jack?"

Jack's voice was dreamy, half-asleep. "Yes, love?"

"You might free my hands now. I suspect we'd both be more comfortable. And perhaps we could find a blanket?"

Jack laughed. "I can do better than that. There's a whole bed 'bout three feet to your left." Then he reached behind James, unlocked the manacles, and slipped them off James' hands. Circulation recommenced with a painful prickling, as Jack rubbed the feeling back into James' hands and soothed his chafed wrists.

"Sorry 'bout that." He sounded anything but regretful.

James was too full of the odd sensation of freedom to care. He would have to go back, resume the wig and the hat and the uniform and Commodore Norrington. But not tonight. Tonight he was free from the shining sword of duty that hung over his head. Tonight he was just James, alone in the comforting dark with Jack, and that was enough.


end



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