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“You heard me the first time Sparrow, I shan’t say it again,” Norrington grumbled, feeling his ears burn as if someone had set them aflame. He wasn’t a man easily embarrassed, but at that very moment, he suspected his face was slowly turning the same shade of crimson the lower-ranking officers wore on their uniforms.
To add insult to injury, the infuriating weasel of a pirate stared at him with a wide smirk, the golden gleam of his teeth almost blinding against the candlelight illuminating the captain’s cabin.
“Don’t get me wrong, Commodore, I’m more than happy to adhere to yer every whim,” he cooed, standing up from his seat, his movements slow but deliberate, like those of a hungry predator circling its prey. A step forward, followed by two more, and James hoped the creaking of the Pearl’s woodwork drowned out the loud gulp his throat had unexpectedly produced. “I’m just a bit surprised is all, seeing as yer usual requests are, shall we say, more participatory in nature.”
It was true. Every time James went out of his way to save Jack from making his last trip to the gallows, either by turning a blind eye to some of his illegal activities out on the sea, or by actively repairing whatever damage he had done on dry land, the notorious pirate would always return the favor by offering to engage in every lewd fantasy the commodore could come up with. He was open to anything, no matter how bold James’ requests were, no matter what body part was involved, and how that body part was supposed to be handled. Jack would even propose his own ideas at times, and some of them - James reckoned - would make the most adventurous whore in Tortuga blush.
This time, however, Norrington wanted something simpler - something that would force him to exercise a little bit of self-control…
“I just want to watch,” he insisted, his voice holding more conviction than he actually felt, and Jack grinned like a bedlamer. With one swift leap, the pirate closed the gap between them and unceremoniously plopped down on James’ lap, facing him straight on, his intense gaze holding the officer hostage. A mischievous glint flashed through these pitch-dark eyes, and James could only guess what diabolical schemes went through his lover’s mind.
Well, he didn’t have to wait long to get his answer, for the next thing he knew, Jack’s lips crashed against his own like a rum-flavored wave, prying them open and flooding the inside of his mouth with an elemental force. The commodore let himself be swept by the powerful current, not caring if he drowned, as long as the pirate’s tongue continued its sweet invasion. Without a doubt, Jack was a skillful kisser, probably due to the broad experience he gained in his travels, though sometimes James wondered if it was the devil himself that had mentored him in the ways of seduction, before sending him to earth to corrupt the innocent.
With their bodies so close, Norrington could feel the warmth radiating from Jack’s skin, even through the layers of clothing separating them. In that very moment, he was quite sure that it was indeed hellfire burning inside the pirate’s belly, heating up his flesh like an iron furnace.
Unexpectedly, Jack’s hand ran past James’ inner thigh before arriving at his bulging groin, rubbing it gently through the thin fabric of his breeches. The officer let out a soft moan at the sensation, just as the kiss was broken, and the devil’s whisper sounded in his ear.
“Ye certain ye don’t want t’ play, Commodore?”
At that point, Norrington wasn’t sure whether to shake his head or nod, so he just settled for a light shrug, leaving the interpretation to Jack himself. The captain smirked knowingly before he got up, took off his coat and tossed it on an unoccupied chair by the table, all the while never breaking eye contact with James. That impish expression graced the man’s features again, making him appear more youthful than he really was. To tell the pirate’s actual age was a fool’s errand, with his exotic beauty and wayward nature standing in sharp contrast to at least four decades of history he must have been a witness to. James never felt the need to ask about the exact date of his birth, since it didn’t really matter in the case of a man who looked like his peer, acted like a dim-witted lad most of the time, yet fucked like he had the experience of a lifetime spent in brothels.
That experience was about to be utilized, as Jack turned away from the officer with a swift twirl, both hands going to his midsection to start working on the buckles of his belts. It didn’t take long before the two strips of leather fell to the floor, soon followed by the long sash that he had to unwrap from around his waist. Next came off the vest, its once-aubergine color faded by the sun and muddied by dirt, the tattered fabric telling a story of hardship at sea, and its owner’s lax attitude to personal hygiene.
James learned to accept his lover’s aversion to laundering, and even grew fond of the distinct scent of sweat, rum and salt water that became a permanent feature of the captain’s garments. Still, he had to admit, he did occasionally fantasize about giving Jack a proper bath, wishing he could scrub all the grime off his skin, inch by inch.
A dull thud brought him back to earth, which was the sound of Jack’s boots being thrown to the side. With a faint smirk, the pirate coyly glanced at James over his shoulder, as if to check if the officer was paying attention, then proceeded to slowly, deliberately pull his shirt up, exposing more and more of his ink-covered back. Once the tattoos were in full view, James became aware of how wildly his heart was pounding in his chest. He’d seen them up close before, hell, he’d read some of the writing etched onto the captain’s skin, and even traced the exotic patterns with his tongue during one of their late-night escapades; yet, every time he saw the stunning body art, he felt as aroused as the first time he’d discovered its existence.
When Jack’s hands moved to the back of his head to untie the crimson scarf that kept his messy mop of hair in check, the muscles of his shoulders started working, setting the inked patterns in fluid motion, like dinghies floating on a high tide. As tantalizing as the view was, the sole notion that only one piece of clothing remained to be disposed of made Norrington bite his lower lip in anticipation. In his initial request, he hadn’t even asked for such a salacious display, but his Jack would always go above and beyond to make him happy, or perhaps he was just taunting him for the decision to stay an observer.
As if to prove his point, Jack hooked his fingers under the waistband of his breeches, tugging them down at an agonizingly slow pace, and James realized his own trousers became considerably tighter than before. The pirate then bent over, lazily stepping out of his pant legs, giving the commodore a truly magnificent sight to behold. James had to fight himself not to jump out of his seat, dig his fingers into that ample piece of flesh and plunge right into his lover’s tight entrance. Out of all the delicious body parts Jack had to offer, his round and firm backside had a special effect on the officer, and the seductive menace had to be perfectly aware of that, for he swayed his hips like a king’s concubine when he sauntered over to his bed.
Another teasing glance, a finger beckoning him to come closer, and James found himself standing up and following the captain mindlessly, as if he’d fallen into a trance. Jack lay down on his blue, silky sheets - which, undoubtedly, had been stolen from some lord in Singapore - and splayed his legs wide, silently inviting James to take a seat between his knees. Without a second thought, James did just that, and got rewarded with a view of Jack’s prominent cock, tall and hard like the mainmast on his Pearl, protruding proudly out of a thick bush of dark curls.
Licking his lips absentmindedly, the commodore admired his sun-kissed demon basking in the candlelight, completely exposed, but not ashamed in the slightest. Jack was a sensual creature, and it never took much to get him hard and sweaty, his excitement manifesting itself between his thighs almost on command. James, on the other hand, needed a bit more stimuli, though he was already halfway there due to the captain’s earlier performance. Yes, his Jack knew exactly what he needed, and every time they found themselves alone, away from prying eyes and whispers of gossip, it felt like a meeting between the hot Caribbean sun and a drifting iceberg, with the former melting the latter in a heartbeat.
Jack rested one hand behind his head comfortably and gripped his throbbing manhood with the other, a blissful smile stretching across his face. It was then that James noticed that the pirate’s palm was slick with coconut oil, the sweet, creamy scent filling the air around them. When had that little snake found the time to apply it, James had no clue, but there were more interesting things to focus on at that moment.
Jack smiled, stroking himself at a leisurely pace, his gaze never leaving James’. Soon, his wrist started working at a more rapid speed and his eyes rolled back before fluttering shut, his whole body arching up from the incoming waves of pleasure. When he started panting, his hips bucking in rhythm with his movements, James became vaguely aware that his own hand dove to his groin, mimicking Jack’s actions.
The sound of their rugged breaths cut through the silence, soon joined by the pirate’s low grunts and the rustle of silky sheets creasing underneath him. Jack’s tar-roughened hand was sliding up and down furiously now, almost as if to create fire from friction, and he lost himself in the moment of self-induced euphoria. Norrington wondered what filthy visions occupied the captain’s mind to provoke such a powerful reaction, and if he was the leading actor in Jack’s imaginary play.
Maybe it was his sole presence that had such an effect on Jack? Maybe it was the fact that he was told to do it, for in spite of Jack"s bravado and defiance in his day-to-day antics, he was always obedient to James in the safe confines of his cabin, catering to the commodore’s every whim without question. As surprised as Norrington had been upon discovering that fact, he quickly learned to take full advantage of it, making Jack do all the things he would otherwise be too ashamed to ask for, even from a cheap dock whore.
He loved having that kind of power over the notorious pirate - it was a well-deserved reward for risking his career, social standing, and possibly his life, in order to keep the pest out of trouble. Oddly enough, James still felt like he was the one paying the price, considering how much he had to lose, and how eager Jack was to comply every time his debt was to be collected, which begged the question of who really had the upper hand between the two of them.
What a powerful spell must have been cast upon the righteous commodore for him to succumb to the pirate’s charms, against his better judgment, against his training, against everything he believed in and stood for. Their wicked alliance defied the laws of man and logic. It was reckless, dangerous and foolish, like sailing through a hurricane in a mad pursuit of glory. He had tried to resist at first, keep his thoughts pure, focus on his job even if he had to work himself to death. Despite his best efforts, he had found himself on the edge of madness during all those sleepless nights he’d been tossing and turning in his bed, only to dream of Sparrow after finally nodding off. Ultimately, he had to resign to his fate, like a tragic hero destined for downfall no matter what course of action he took.
No. There was no tragedy, and he was no hero, because, admittedly, everything he did was a choice. He had chosen Jack, for better or worse, and if he still felt uncertain about his decision, one glance at this bronze hellion writhing and groaning while pleasuring himself for James’ entertainment had all of his doubts immediately dispelled.
A glistening drop on Jack’s tip caught his attention, and he realized how close the man was to getting his release. Without a second thought, he reached out and grabbed the captain’s wrist, stopping all movement and earning himself an impatient glare. With a crooked smirk, James guided Jack’s hand to the side of the bed before leaning down and teasing him with his tongue, enjoying the way his lover gasped and trembled at the action. There went his plan to stay uninvolved, but the opportunity to get back at the arrogant weasel was too good to pass up.
Norrington continued exacting his revenge, slowly licking the underside of the pirate’s twitching cock, leaving a wet trail in his wake. An echo of low moans and whimpers sounded through the cabin, as Jack writhed about in delightful agony.
“James,” he rasped out, his free hand making a desperate flight to his groin, but it was quickly intercepted by the officer and pinned down just like the other one. Without saying a word, James threw him an admonishing look before resuming his play, lips covering the moist surface of the tip, tasting the first juices that began to leak out. Perhaps it was a bit cruel of him to torture the man like that, but he couldn’t resist relishing in the sight of his lover being so helples and needy, so close to the finish yet unable to do a damn thing about it.
Pushing his hips up, Jack attempted to insert himself further in, but Norrington was quicker, pulling back just in time.
“James,” a pleading whine reached his ears, glassy eyes begging for mercy, and the officer decided to grant him a pardon.
“I just want to make sure you know where to make port, Captain.” James said pointedly, to which Sparrow nodded frantically, though his dazed expression suggested anything but comprehension. Nevertheless, it was the best response one could hope for in these circumstances, so with his mouth open wide, James leaned in again and loosened his grip on Jack’s right hand.
Without hesitation, the pirate resumed his work, pumping himself at an angry speed, almost as if to make up for the time loss. It didn’t take long before James felt a flow of wet heat washing down his throat, and he happily proceeded to gulp down all of it at once. The last time he tasted Jack was so long ago, he almost forgot the slightly bitter flavor with a hint of sin that he enjoyed almost as much as a glass of his favorite claret.
Spent, Jack sagged down in a heap, his breaths short and hard-earned, but there was a golden smile shining through the exhaustion. James climbed on top of him and melted into his lithe body, silently grateful for the spectacle he had been given. The pirate’s olive skin was coated in sweat, tiny droplets soaking into James’ pristine uniform, but the officer didn’t mind. It was a rainy night anyway, and he expected a steady drizzle to continue till the first signs of dawn, so any possible stains wouldn"t appear suspicious in the event someone saw him sneaking back home so early in the morning. And even if someone dared to raise an eyebrow, they would never in a thousand years have guessed where he had been, what he had been doing, and what kind of company he had kept.
Said company reached down and grabbed a bottle of rum that had been placed by the bed, then guzzled down half of its contents before offering the liquor to the officer. Rum was not James’ drink of choice, but he needed to wash down the stickiness in his mouth, so he took a large swig as well, which, for some reason, the pirate found to be amusing.
“The pride of His Majesty’s Royal Navy ye are,” Sparrow grinned, and James gave him a sidelong glare while putting the bottle back on the floor.
“Oh, shut it,” he snapped, but a tiny smile tugged at his lips. Fine, so he wasn’t the prim and proper commodore that everyone took him for, and that notion alone was the cause of both embarrassment and… arousal.
“I says we ‘ave some urgent business to take care of, ey?” The pirate said in his most sultry voice, obviously referring to James’ hardness jabbing at his inner thigh. Indeed, in his endeavor to feast his eyes - and his palate - on the exotic fruit that was Jack Sparrow, James severely neglected the lower regions of his body, and one part in particular demanded his attention.
“Whenever you’re ready Mr. Sparrow,” the officer muttered, peering into these big, coal-black eyes.
“Captain,” Jack corrected in his usual manner, but a seductive smirk played on his features. “I’m always ready for ye, luv.”
With that, the pirate reached under his pillow, from where he retrieved a vial of the familiar coconut oil, and presented it to James. The commodore shook his head with a chuckle and accepted the offering, then raised to his knees, giving the other man some room to wiggle around. After liberating his throbbing manhood from the confines of his breeches, he proceeded to slick himself up, his eyes never leaving his partner in crime. There was a lot to take in too, as Jack rolled to his belly before propping himself up on his elbows, his face pressed against the sheets and his buttocks held up in the air. As always, his delicious, pink entrance found itself at just the right height, and James couldn’t help but smirk knowingly. He had him well-trained.
“I suggest you service yourself this time, Captain,” James ordered, and Jack obediently held out his hand, stretching it back at a slightly awkward angle. Once the sleek liquid cascaded onto his palm, he didn’t even need to be told what to do next. Reaching over his back, he trailed his hand down, and in a show of great flexibility, slipped two fingers inside himself, pushing them in as far as they would go.
The pair of digits moved in and out with practiced skill, as eager as if there was an itch to scratch, and James was happy to let the captain work for a while, until his own itch became impossible to ignore.
“You know, you could make a living like this,” the commodore quipped, and a light chuckle sounded from behind a thick veil of braids and dreadlocks.
“Don’t I?” Jack breathed out, and he had a good point, considering how reckless his latest stint had been, forcing Norrington to pull a lot of strings to prevent him from experiencing a quick drop and a sudden stop. Once again, the fox had gotten away with his tail intact, and James had no qualms about claiming his reward.
“Ready?” The officer asked, hoping not to sound as impatient as he felt, but to his relief, Jack was finally done, his arse back up, inviting him in. With a swift thrust, James buried himself deep into the captain, filling him in, eliciting a clipped yelp, which he knew by now to be a good thing. The pirate liked it rough and fast, and coincidentally, James happened to have the same preference.
Wasting no more time, the commodore pulled back before lunging forward again, unfurling all of his sails, quickly getting up to speed. As their bodies collided time and time again, the wet smacking of flesh against flesh filled the cabin, and the sweet moans of pleasure rang in James’ ears, whether his own or Sparrow’s he wasn’t quite sure.
“Don’t… hold back… luv,” Jack managed to choke out, and James almost scoffed at the insinuation that he would, given how much force he exerted already. But Jack was a pirate, and these were his ways, always craving for more than he had already taken, pushing the boundaries, and laughing in the face of danger. His muscles clenched around James, demanding the burn, as if the scourging heat inside of him wasn’t enough. Greedy, ever so greedy, yet generous in his assistance, never one to let someone else put in all the effort.
Rocking his hips enticingly, the captain rambled some nonsensical words of encouragement, frenzied pleads that only addled James’ mind, shrouding it in a dark fog and drowning the last slivers of prudence he had left. Something more primal awakened in him, and so, the commodore rammed into Jack, hands blindly latching onto his sides, leaving red marks where nails scoured skin. Like a madman searching for buried treasure, James dug deeper and angrier with each thrust, until he heard his name being screamed out, and felt his passion pour out of him to the last drop.
Completely drained, he collapsed onto Jack’s motionless body, and waited for his rugged breaths to even out. Once his heart regained its regular rhythm, and his faculties returned, he realized that the limp form underneath him was yet to move an inch, or even make the faintest of sounds. A cold dread settled in the pit of his stomach, as he feared that perhaps things had gone too far this time. Jack had unleashed the beast inside of him, perhaps underestimating its hunger and vigor, and let himself be wrecked by it to a point of no repair.
Rolling over to the side, James sneaked his hand beneath the man’s slim waist and pulled him closer, so that their faces almost met. To his relief, Jack’s flesh was pleasantly warm, his chest moving up and down, which meant there was still life in him.
“Jack, did I… are you-”
“As right as rain, darlin’,” Jack mumbled sleepily into his neck, a tiny smile pulling at the corner of his lips. Relieved, James released a shaky breath.
“I suppose you won’t be taking any strolls around town anytime soon, Captain.” He tried making light of it all, the tension in his spine gradually subsiding. Jack yawned, snuggling further into his embrace, limbs stretching over his new, brocaded pillow, like a lazy kitten that had just been awakened.
“Still worth it,” he muttered with a light shrug, eyes closed, and the officer shook his head in a peculiar blend of wonder and acceptance. That was his Jack, unpredictable and unapologetic, like the Carribean Sea itself.
“There is a lesson to be had in all of this,” James whispered into Jack’s ear, one hand moving in concentric circles across his back, the other caressing his exposed buttock.
“Hmm?”
“Impersonating an officer of the Royal Navy is a serious crime,” Norrington said pointedly, still a bit annoyed at how much trouble the pirate had put him through.
“As serious as getting buggered by one?” Jack replied, only half-awake, yet still able to muster up a sharp riposte. The trinkets sticking out of his disheveled hair glistened in the low light as brightly as his golden teeth, once again reminding James of how little the man cared about social norms and practices.
“Jack,” Norrington sighed, disarmed by the pirate’s obstinacy. “At least… try not to get caught next time, clear?”
“I can’t say, I feel incentivised not to, Commodore,” Jack purred drowsily, prompting James to roll his eyes, but then a realization hit him square in the jaw.
“Wait. Are you actually trying to-” James spluttered, words eluding him, as his brain was doing somersaults. “Do you deliberately let yourself get caught each time?”
When no response came, other than the sound of snoring reverberating around them, he gave up on questioning the man further. Admittedly, he only had himself to blame. The arrangement that he had agreed to was corrupted at its core, so preaching to Jack about following the rules, or not acting like a reckless prat would ring hollow anyway.
James stayed longer than he had initially planned, cuddled up to his little devil, until the first rays of sunshine peaked over the horizon. Slipping out of bed quietly, so as not to wake the other occupant, he straightened out his uniform and turned to leave, but not before placing a soft kiss on his lover’s forehead, and covering his nude body with the captain’s coat. For all his fiendish qualities, Sparrow looked like an innocent angel in his sleep, and James could stand there and watch him for hours if he didn’t have to return to his duties.
It was odd how hard it was to part ways with the pirate, knowing that he would miss his infuriating presence the moment he set foot on land. At least now he was sure that the feeling was mutual, and although neither of them would admit to anything beyond their carnal desires, they both knew there was more to it than that. Enough to constantly play with fire, just to have a chance to spend one more night together.
Yes, sooner or later, their paths would cross again, and when the time came, his Jack would be very grateful for something, and James already knew what his new request would be.