Rating: NC-17 m/m
Pairing: Sparrington J/N
Archive: Yes, just ask please.
Feedback: webcrowmancer at hotmail com & hipfix at yahoo com
Disclaimer: The Usual. Belongs to Mouse, not us. Except Jack Sparrow who belongs to J.Depp. ;)
Series: Yes, this is the sequel to 'Best Laid Plans'.
Author's Note: Webcrow thanks Monkeypuzzle for "the wicked twist of his hips". That phrase has spawned numerous smuttification in this story.
Inspired: by the Theban Band's Most Beautiful Sparrington pic.
Summary: He drew in a shuddering breath at the triumphant wince of lust that passed over Jack's face at his entreaty. Oh God. To give it over, to give himself up to this.
A Plan Well-Laid
By hija_paloma and Webcrowmancer
"I watch you while you're sleeping
Messy hair, chest bare, moonlight on your skin
I wanna breathe you in
In the silence, words come easy
I can tell you now just how simple it's been to let you in
Don't move, this mood is a painting
We'll never find the same thing"
'2 Become 1' - Jewel
Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, forty, forty-one, forty-two... Jack's carefully counted steps placed him square in front of the third door. Must be this one, then. He opened the door quietly, and released a breath he hadn't known he was holding when he saw James Norrington sleeping in a silver-blue patch of moonlight.
Jack slipped inside, shutting the door carefully behind him and giving his eyes a chance to adjust to the relative darkness inside. When he could see, he turned and cautiously made his way to the bed where Norrington lay.
Correction. The bed where Norrington lay, sleeping, moonlit, naked, and oh, if that wasn't the prettiest sight Jack had ever seen. A memory came to him, then, of James, head thrown back, crying out Jack's own name. James, crouched over him, pressing him down onto that very bed, telling him, "I want you... I want to have you." James, smiling, issuing a parting challenge as Jack slipped out his bedroom window. Alright, possibly he'd seen prettier sights than the one before him right now.
Jack approached hesitantly, not wanting to wake Norrington. After all, it had been two months since their last encounter, and what if he'd had a change of heart? What if he'd decided he'd rather hang a pirate than bed him? Jack had no idea where he stood with the Commodore, now, but there was only one way to find out. He'd have to wake him and ask. Eventually.
Jack peeled out of his clothes and padded to the bedside, his shadow rippling over James's still form. "Mind if I join you, love?" he whispered. No response. "Take that as a 'no'," he grinned, and slid between the crisp white sheets.
As Jack's weight shifted the mattress beneath him, Norrington stirred, turning his head and flipping out his wrist to push the sheets down past his waist. "All right, all right, don't get too antsy," Jack murmured, barely audibly. "Got a few things to talk to you about, and I don't want you gettin' ahead of me, savvy?"
Once Norrington had settled, Jack scooted closer, settling his body carefully over Norrington's right arm. His hands played lightly, fluttering just above the pale white skin, very deliberately not touching as he whispered to the sleeping Commodore.
"Know I'm a wee bit early, but it's only a couple days. Wanted to iron a few things out with you a'fore the wedding. Took me by surprise, last time, you did, and there's not many men what can say that about Captain Jack Sparrow. But what's been on my mind, James, what I need to know is, have you had your fill now? Are you done with ol' Jack?" His fingers landed as he asked the question, prodding Norrington inquisitively, and suddenly Norrington's eyes flew open.
"You're awake!" Jack exclaimed, and then grimaced, pulling his hands back like they'd been slapped. "Ticklish... sorry, mate, I forgot."
Norrington stared up at the phantom hovering over him, wondering if he were still dreaming, witnessing the coalescence of another of his fleeting memories from that first night together. He blinked sleep out of his eyes, taking in Jack's undressed state.
"You," he said wonderingly, turning slightly to regard the very real and solid presence of Jack Sparrow…in his bed, next to him, looking down at him with a bright but wary eye.
Jack tilted his head with a little nod. "Didn't mean to wake you."
"You're here early," he began, then stopped as a dart of mischief and relief flitted over Jack's face.
"Ah, so you weren't listenin' then."
Norrington's brow crinkled. "What?" The sleep-fog was beginning to dissipate though, and he was gradually growing painfully and acutely aware of their combined nakedness. A deep sense of tender satisfaction was keeping pace with the trickle of arousal that ran through his blood. "I wondered if you'd come back. If you'd risk it. If you'd trust me."
He didn't reach up yet, despite how closely Jack was lying beside him. There was a hesitancy in Jack that made him wonder how closely it mirrored his own hopes and doubts he'd suffered over the past two long months.
"Must admit, mate, I wasn't entirely sure my welcome would be as warm as it was last time. Thought maybe you might have changed your mind," Jack said smoothly enough, but the admission brought a knowing smile to Norrington's face.
"Come here," he murmured, reaching up a hand to Jack's right arm, reassuring himself that Jack was actually here with him, warm beneath his touch.
Jack leaned in closer, scooting down a bit to lie pressed up against his right side, and Norrington gave an exhalation of pure contentment. Jack's arm went about him, and he laid his head just below Norrington's right shoulder, the sensation of the beads and that metallic charm cool against his skin.
The pure indulgence of having Jack in his arms, visiting in the middle of the quiet night, was balm enough to dismiss the worries and longing that had gnawed upon him for so many weeks. Countless nights. Endlessly long days.
And now Jack's spoken words brought him fully into the present moment, more so even than the heated flesh against his body. "I take it you missed me, then?" Norrington murmured, wondering at the incredible momentousness of the simple act of Jack moving into him even closer, one leg lifting to twine around his, and lifting a hand to run a flat palm over his chest, raising goose-bumps despite the warmth of the night air drifting in through the open window.
"Two months is a long time, 'ey? Thought maybe it'd be too long, really. Thought I'd given you too much time to change your mind." Jack gestured with his hand, his fingers playing lightly in the air. "All those excellent reasons why this is such a terribly bad idea."
"To be honest, I did consider them. Those excellent reasons," Norrington said, slowly.
Jack was silent against him, the hand on his chest stilled as if frozen.
"Did you, now." Jack's tone was flat, which probably revealed as much about his state of mind as it concealed. But some things were not to be borne. Jack Sparrow, the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow, afraid of a Commodore of the fleet? No. It must be someone else's heart beating like a wild thing in his chest.
"Yes. In fact, I have thought of little else since you left, as I'm sure you'll be pleased to know." Norrington smiled a little at that, but Jack didn't find the humor.
He made a non-committal sound and said, "I might've preferred to leave you thinking what fun you had, or maybe of all the excellent reasons why this is such a terribly good idea." Norrington shifted under him and Jack smoothed his hand over his chest again. "But why don't you tell me, as you're the voice of reason in this mad little world, what you've come up with, for 'shouldn't' and 'can't' and 'wrong'." Norrington sighed deeply, and Jack's head rose and fell with his ribs like a ship on an ocean swell. "Come on, mate. Let's have it."
"Well, for starters, there's the small matter of your life being forfeit if you're found in Port Royal." Jack snorted at that, couldn't help it, really. If that was the best Norrington could come up with…
"Really, mate. Caught by whom? Royal Navy doesn't seem inclined to hang me. Governor's unlikely to do so, given his daughter's inexplicable fondness for my pretty neck. Long as I stay clear of the forge, and that drunk Brown, I should be safe."
Norrington chuckled. "The sooner Turner is done with that man… Believe it or not, I'd already come to that conclusion. I was merely telling you what I'd considered."
Jack found himself smiling for the first time since he'd woken Norrington. "Aye, you're a sharp one. 'M always underestimating you."
"Alright, your turn."
"Eh?" Honestly, they spoke the same language, how did the man keep doing that to him?
"I told you one of my concerns. Now let's have one of yours." Bloody hell. Bloody navy and their bloody sense of fair play.
"Alright. Well, there's me reputation to consider. Hard to remain the most fearsome pirate in the Spanish Main when everyone knows you're-" the Commodore's pet, he just stopped himself from saying, and tried again-"sleeping with the enemy, as it were."
"I don't believe that either one of us intends to announce this to the world, so you can't have been that concerned about it. You're trying to slip out of being honest with me."
Jack shrugged, the best he could when wrapped around Norrington. "Pirate. Dishonest man, and all that. Were you really so worried about me being captured, yourself?"
Norrington chuckled nervously. "Touché."
Jack smiled again. "And that would make it your turn. No cheating this time, Commodore." Every muscle beneath him tightened at the use of Norrington's title, rather than his name. Interesting.
He abruptly felt the distance widening - despite his holding Jack so closely. And he marveled at how much it…hurt.
First, to pointedly raise the issue that he was consorting with a pirate…and then to use his title to place more of their differences between them.
Norrington briefly wondered what was prompting Jack's doubts now, but the realization that Jack was even suffering any doubts was suddenly soothing. It lent him courage to be honest, in fact, despite the pirate's reminder that he was a dishonest man himself. There was no mistaking that Jack needed some sort of reassurance that his trust was not misplaced, here.
Slowly, he answered, "Alright. Betrayal." He licked his lips. "Or even blackmail. A man in my position can hardly be faulted for considering it as a possibility or a danger."
Jack tensed where he lay draped against him, and Norrington quickly continued, "Although, in for the penny, in for the pound. I do realize you're in much the same position, yourself."
Dryly, Jack answered, "Nice of you to remember that. What with the Fort, and the guns, and your men, and let's see…me being a pirate and therefore of little consequence when it comes to a trial, or your word against mine."
Thoughtfully, Norrington glanced down at him, and saw Jack's expression was as serious as his words. "Are you having second thoughts about this, Jack?" he asked, softly.
Jack let out a breath of almost amused exasperation. "Was thinking it was more that you'd be the one deciding so, mate."
"I'm not," Norrington said firmly. "I can live with it. And I want to see you. I'm glad you've come." He began to idly caress the thin shoulder, down over his back, enjoying the closeness and the thudding of Jack's heart as it vibrated into him… Norrington blinked. It felt rather like clasping a wild animal to his breast. He swallowed silently, realizing that probably that was the best possible analogy he could find.
Frowning, he couldn't see Jack responding favorably to the idea that he was attempting to tame the pirate to trust him enough to come closer yet, to stay for longer. And the answer slid into place within his own doubts, rising clear. He hadn't wanted Jack to leave. He'd held him too tight and expressed far too much need and urgency, both during their first union together and immediately afterwards. Jack was afraid; afraid of being confined.
Jack had practically run out of his bed, out the window.
Hence the reminders that he was a pirate…as if Norrington could ever forget. He grinned wryly to himself. "I'm hardly going to pretend I don't want you at this late date."
"Good to know," Jack replied, with a sardonic smile. "An' harder to miss. You proved that rather admirably last time, eh?"
Norrington couldn't help feeling a simultaneous shudder of excitement and embarrassment at this. It was very true, after all. Suspiciously, he asked, "What do you have in mind?"
"'Jack'," whispered Jack, musing to himself. "You know, fond as I am of hearing my name so softly spoken, I must admit I'm sad to have only heard you call me "Captain" twice. Well, three times, but it's not good form to hold a man to anything he says in the heat of passion."
"Is that what you want, Jack? You want me to call you Captain?" Norrington's voice was as stiff as his usual rigid posture, as stiff as… mm. Jack pressed against his thigh. Stiff.
"Not at all, James," he objected, stretching up to purr in Norrington's ear. "I want you… I want to have you."
By the lack of reaction, Jack suspected Norrington had been expecting that. "Turnabout is fair play, and all that?" He sounded… determined. Not reluctant, but not eager by any stretch.
Jack chuckled wickedly. "Honestly, mate, how many times do I have to tell you? I'm a pirate. I've got no use for fair play."
"Then why," Norrington swallowed audibly, "what's this about, then, Jack?"
Oh, James. So determined to have this all up front and proper and well-mapped out. Still can't just let go, can you? "It's about… letting a pirate take charge of the Commodore for a little while. It's about giving to me what you took so freely when last we did this dance." It's about not being your bloody pet, James. About putting yourself in my place, and seeing what you really did to me.
Jack shifted, tilted his head back so that he was looking into Norrington's face. It was stoic as ever, but Jack could see the decision flitting around behind his eyes. He looked at Jack and nodded. "I - am trusting you, Jack. Though you seem determined not to return the favor."
Jack's eyes turned darker than ever at this, and for a brief moment, Norrington did wonder if there was some subtler level he was unaware of, some game Jack was playing that he still hadn't caught up with.
"On the contrary, James, " Jack said in a dangerously mild tone, "I've every intention of returning the favor tonight. The question here is: can you trust yourself?"
Norrington nearly heard the words follow silently after that one. To go through with it. To honor this between them.
Could he trust himself? To an extent, he wondered if he could accept what Jack wanted, what he owed Jack, really. To offer himself up, to surrender to Jack in the very manner he'd helped himself to Jack's trust two months ago. But he'd already agreed to this, and he found himself wondering why it was still an issue for Jack. And why Jack seemed to need to go through this seemingly simple exchange of trust and power with him. What was Jack afraid of?
Since when had it become all about who they were, rather than their mutual desire? But maybe Jack needed to reestablish who he was because of that very same desire -
Ah, he thought to himself with some irony. That was the game, then.
It wasn't about taking charge; it was about proving himself. Jack needed to prove himself an equal, not just submitting to Norrington's desire. It wasn't about desire at all, but pride. Because Jack had scared himself in offering his trust and then discovered in Norrington's taking of him that first time - that Norrington had taken far more than Jack had expected.
The memory of it was shocking, all of a sudden. He'd held him down in this very same bed, and in the violent release of his desire, he'd claimed and marked Jack Sparrow - pirate captain and freeman…That was the point, there. He'd rather upset Jack's ideas about who was doing the plundering, and who was the pirate. And he'd made complicated matters even worse by then immediately showing too much need afterwards.
He'd surprised himself, but he hadn't realized how much he'd surprised Jack.
Norrington couldn't help but admit Jack had the right of it, to expect part of that same trust to be shown in return, now. He owed Jack that much, certainly. And somehow, the nervous awkwardness he felt about submitting to Jack in the same way began to trickle away.
With a tight smile, Norrington replied, "Very well, Captain. The Commodore is all yours."
Jack stared back at him, obviously gauging his response. Probably assessing for any sign of resistance or unwillingness.
"I'm at your disposal," Norrington informed him lightly.
"Oh good," Jack returned, in just as light a note. "Glad we cleared that up, then."
Norrington smiled back at him, wondering why it had taken Jack so bloody long to get to the point. Why was it so hard for Jack to ask for what he wanted?
A pirate. Indeed, Norrington thought shrewdly to himself. Jack was used to taking, to helping himself, not asking. To have to ask permission to take something rather defeated the purpose of 'taking' something… The thrill of taking something one ought not to have.
"Yes, I'm well-aware that forbidden fruit tastes sweeter," Norrington answered, obliquely.
Norrington's knowing smile tugged at something deep and contentious inside Jack. Did the man always have to believe he had the upper hand? He pressed his lips to Norrington's ear again. "Nothing is forbidden me, mate. I'm Captain Jack Sparrow." The shudder that ran the length of Norrington's body at Jack's warm whisper put a wicked smile on his face.
Jack reached out a hand and turned Norrington's face toward him. "Better'n pointing a pistol at me, I suppose, but you still 'aven't given me a proper hello, James."
Norrington frowned, the picture of contrition. "I'm sorry, Jack. Allow me to rectify that."
The kiss began as tentatively as the first time Norrington had dared, in the alley, press his lips to Jack's. It was tender, and not at all demanding, and Jack thought maybe, Norrington had finally understood the rules of the game. Two months' frustrated desire broke over Jack and flooded him with heat and an undeniable need. He pressed his mouth hungrily to Norrington's and thrilled to feel those lips part for him, to feel Norrington open himself to Jack's searching tongue.
The urgency, the heat, was overwhelming, and Jack broke away, burying his face in the curve of Norrington's neck and gasping for breath.
"Two months…" Norrington groaned, "did you really have to wait so long, Jack?"
Jack chuckled weakly. "I know, mate. Told you I'd be here for the wedding, though; didn't want you to think me dishonest." His tongue darted out to taste the soft skin of Norrington's neck. "Mm, lovely, that," he murmured, and began to nibble and suck at the tender flesh with enthusiasm.
"Ah… God, Jack… of all… oh… of all the times to - ah, Jack- to develop a sense of morality…" Norrington's broken, ragged voice was sweet, sinful music to Jack's ears. Still…
Jack levered himself up, sliding one leg across Norrington's so that he was straddling him on hands and knees. His mind began to whisper a warning; last time he'd been in this position, Norrington had rolled and pinned him, and taken much more than Jack had been prepared to give. He very carefully set the worry aside. "You talk too much, James. You're worse than I am."
Norrington's eyes narrowed at that. "I am not - oh God, Jack!"
Jack grinned and leaned in for another kiss before repeating the slow, grinding roll of his hips that pressed their rigid flesh together. "Want you, James," he whispered against Norrington's lips. It was a moment of truth, he thought. Norrington was bigger, and stronger, and Jack could not overpower him physically, the way Norrington had last time. If Jack was to have him tonight, to have control, it would have to be with Norrington's cooperation.
He was abashed to realize how easy it was, to let Jack decide when and how quickly the desire would be allowed free. The pleasure of feeling this supple, well-toned body undulating against him was a revelation after being alone for so long. Night after night of hungering for it.
His face felt hot as the simplicity of giving himself over to Jack revealed itself in the way that he murmured, "I'm yours."
It really was that simple, and the way that Jack's lips stretched into a smile even as he continued to kiss him, laving with the tip of his tongue against Norrington's lower lip and nibbling on it gently, went a long way in helping the doubts to creep further away.
A part of him was admittedly still reluctant. With Jack's hair all dark and wild about him, giving the appearance along with his darker flesh, of a barbaric creature, a jungle animal over him preparing to feast, he couldn't help the tremor that went over him at the knowledge of what was about to happen to him. He'd just consented to it. And consigned his will to whatever Jack might consider.
Acutely, he flashed upon how vigorously he'd claimed Jack before, and nearly gasped at the shame of behaving that way, and at the desire to repeat it, as both the urgency and the shame tumbled through him. Feeling a little humbled, he remembered the bite.
As Jack's mouth left his to trail down his neck again, curving up with a slow, wet trail of fire along his jaw up to his other ear, Jack's hair obscuring the moonlit bedroom, Norrington asked, haltingly, "How- how is your neck?"
Jack paused, and gave a low chuckle. "Now he asks me." He drew up, looking down into Norrington's eyes. "Thinkin' you're due for the same? Don't worry, darling, I've better self-control than that."
Norrington nearly flushed at the veiled criticism, but Jack was grinning widely now.
"Years of practice, after all," Jack reminded him, his face lit with a twinkle of enjoyment, as he punctuated his statement with another surge of his hips against him.
Norrington did gasp at this, and managed, "Show me."
It wasn't really a challenge, more an entreaty, because his shaft was already quite hard and his balls were aching and tight, and the delicious weight of Jack atop him moving in that unabashedly libidinous rocking motion against him threatened to undo him.
"Ah, well," Jack muttered, with another slow grind into him, "last time, it was all about the assault, and making your stand, and letting loose with your cannon, right? This time," another swell of that hot body against his, their cocks sliding together in a parody of blades, "it's about learnin' to raise that white flag, savvy?" He lifted up, glanced down at Norrington's erection. "Very good," Jack approved merrily, yet the sensual danger in his voice hadn't lessened for all the playfulness of it.
Norrington abruptly had the sense that going along with this, however playful Jack chose to make the underlying intent of this particular act, was going to be educational in the extreme. The challenge to voluntarily surrender was something he suddenly knew he could meet. Because he wanted to. Not just something he owed, but something he would trust Jack to know what to do with. He willed himself to relax, and remembered the way that Jack had gone boneless under him.
But as he did so, Jack's eyes widened in recognition and Norrington again felt himself the prey, giving himself over to the panther's mercies. He stared back up at Jack, wondering why he felt so… so good, to have done it right, in the sheer moment of relaxing. To have been able to trust, and let go, to give himself over into Jack's power. To trust Jack to do a better job of it than he'd done before, two months ago, with the aggressive violence he'd needed to indulge. He wondered at the darkness in himself, that he'd needed to do it.
Jack said in a small tone of wonder, "That's it; jus' let yourself go with it. It's like the sea, you know. Let it carry you along, like a ship; take you where you need to go."
Norrington swallowed. The thrill of feeling caught, of being helpless, of willingly yielding…to another man.
And to trust this man, this pirate, who he'd already taken and shaken so hard before, not to push him beyond his limits of endurance or fear.
Then Jack's mouth came inexorably crashing down upon his again, and the acceptance of his surrender was slow and complete, that tongue exploring his with a conqueror's right, as Norrington felt the vestigial fear give way to a need.
Oh God. The need…to be wanted. In this way. He'd been a fool not to see it before.
Jack was determined not to let himself get carried away like Norrington had, not to give in to his baser urges and take the man as ruthlessly as he'd been taken himself. He wanted to be careful, and remind Norrington of the "give" in "give and take", but it was hard. It was hard, with two months of waiting and the man wanting, willing, beneath him. Every responsive twitch and quiver of Norrington's body, every shivering answer to Jack's touch, pushed him closer to forgoing all sense of restraint, and just throwing the man over and taking his pleasure.
It took some effort to pull away from the glorious friction of Norrington's cock against his, but Jack managed it without much complaint. Norrington, on the other hand, made a delicious pleading noise that nearly broke Jack's resolve.
"Hush, love, not goin' too far," he whispered, reaching down between them to rub one finger lightly along Norrington's silky, firm member. This brought forth another needful sound that could only be described as a whimper. "It's good, 'ey?"
"Good, yes, Jack, it's good," Norrington murmured. His eyes were closed, brow furrowed as if in concentration.
Jack smiled at the thought, the seeming contradiction of the man working hard to relax. He let his hand drop further, feeling Norrington's balls draw up tight as he brushed past them, searching out the tight, clenching entrance and tickling it entreatingly. Absently, he brought his hand up again, wetting his fingers with his tongue.
"Relax, James," he reminded him, and Norrington nodded and complied. Jack slid his fingers inside and was treated to another long, low groan. "Don't know where you get off tellin' me I never shut up," he chuckled.
"Jack…" Norrington's voice was a tortured blend of warning and plea, and broke off in a shuddering gasp when Jack crooked and twisted his fingers.
The chafing Jack's pride had suffered at having to ask for permission had been more than compensated by the deep, pervasive thrill of having it granted to him. It was almost - almost - enough to make a man want to turn honest. But asking for permission had put the power back in Norrington's hands, and Jack still needed to make that point, still needed to establish himself as the one in control tonight.
"James," he whispered, "James, open your eyes…" Norrington pulled his lids open, lust and confusion fogging his normally clear, discerning stare. "Look at me, there's a good man… I'm aching for you, James, don't you want it? Don't you want to feel me, burying meself inside you like you done to me?"
"Jack, how many times-"
"Ah, shh. 'M not looking for permission this time," he interrupted Norrington's protest. "I need to know you want this as much as I do. I want you to ask me for it."
Recognition filtered through the awkward intimacy and heat of the moment, and Norrington licked his lips once, and then whispered while meeting Jack's knowing, waiting eyes, "Yes, do it. Please, Jack. I want this."
He drew in a shuddering breath at the triumphant wince of lust that passed over Jack's face at his entreaty. Oh God. To give it over, to give himself up to this.
Jack didn't wait for him to change his mind. Slowly but surely, Jack inched forward, drawing his legs up. Norrington found his knees far closer to him than they'd been in a good, long while. It was disconcerting and even a little alarming, how exposed he felt, and even as he cooperated, placing his ankles up on either side of Jack's neck as the pirate leaned into him now, Norrington couldn't help an intake of air, fearfully.
Dear God, had it been like this…or even worse than this, for Jack, before? Norrington suffered another dart of shame at having taken him so fiercely, previously.
"Open your eyes, love," Jack murmured, one hand moving down, out of sight.
Norrington felt the blunt head of Jack's organ brush against his opening and was disconcerted at how much larger it seemed. He pressed his lips together as Jack instructed him, "Breathe, do remember to breathe," in an amused tone. "Don't want you passing out before we get to the good part, 'ey?"
And then the slick, burning sensation of a smooth firebrand entering him, breaching his body, was joined with a sharp pain. Jack stopped moving, and said, "It gets better, don't worry." But Jack's voice sounded strained and Norrington was very, very grateful indeed for Jack's measure of self-restraint.
The pain melted away and the discomfort was growing towards something…akin to a sort of deep itch. Or perhaps - need. It was becoming imperative that Jack move.
"Alright, then?" Jack asked, his dark eyes searching him.
"Y-yes," he nodded, and then gasped as Jack sank into him deeper, and the sensation of needing it faster, of needing more of him inside was overwhelming. "I'm fine, truly; just do it," he managed despite his ragged breaths.
Jack responded by pulling out slightly, and then pressing forward into him again, drawing a gasp from him. The pleasure stoking his body, shafting him from the inside out, filling him, stretching him…Unbelievable. He hadn't realized his body could feel such things.
It was strange, but also alluring. To have Jack Sparrow inside of him. To have accepted and welcomed the man into his own body - it was too much. It also was most decidedly not enough, and his cock was nearly vibrating from the tension, from the need to be handled. Little tremors shivered through him - not of cold, but of lust, and desire, and Norrington realized Jack had ruined him. This was not something one could easily forget or dismiss.
"Please, please, Jack, for God's sake do it, please," he babbled, one hand clutching at Jack's leg, and the other wanting to go to his organ to find relief.
All politeness, Jack asked with a tiny lift of his brows, "A bit harder? A bit more? You sure you can handle it, James?"
Norrington narrowed his eyes. "Either you do it properly, or I'll finish it myself, with you on your back."
Jack grinned at him and stopped moving entirely. "Doesn't work like that, you see. You have to ask nicely, and not go makin' threats."
"You're enjoying this," Norrington threw back at him, lightly.
"Aren't you?" Jack smiled. And then gave a little surge into him with his hips, twisting just so, and Norrington was whimpering before he even knew that the sounds were his.
Jack knew he was grinning like a fool, but he didn't particularly care. He couldn't imagine a man that could hear James Norrington mewling helplessly and not grin like a fool, but he was certain he wouldn't want to meet such a one. This… this was a moment to be savored. Enjoyed to the fullest.
"Yes," Norrington answered, a surprising grin spreading across his own face, "I rather think I am." Jack nodded, and Norrington's grin faded into a question. "Why are you being so careful with me, Jack?"
Jack frowned at him. "Don't want you to be sorry for it later, James. Besides," he continued, rushing on before Norrington could respond, "it doesn't have to be fierce to be fun, 'ey?"
"No… Jack, it doesn't," came the hesitant reply, "but I want… more."
Norrington's willingness to ask for what he wanted-really, his shameless begging--had been a wonderful surprise. Jack had hoped for it, but he really hadn't thought that his self-controlled nature would be so easily set aside. It seemed significant, and Jack mentally marked the thought to mull over at his leisure… later. Right now, the only things of any significance were Norrington's asking for more, and his strong hands clutching at Jack's thighs.
Jack let those grasping hands coax him, encourage him to quicken his pace, to slide into Norrington with more force than he'd thought would be welcome. Norrington's appreciative groan was a siren song in Jack's head, pulling him closer to total abandon. He was peripherally aware that one of Norrington's hands kept fluttering away from his leg, to return moments later in a crushing grip, as though to prevent it from escaping again. That seemed significant, too, and Jack was quite sure he knew what it meant.
"Feels good, doesn't it, James?" he purred, watching Norrington struggle to keep his eyes open and focused on Jack's.
"I didn't - I had no idea, Jack," came the stammered reply, and that hand flew away again, flew back.
Jack grinned. "Not enough, is it?" Norrington shook his head weakly. "You need something else… want my hand around that pretty cock?"
Norrington let his eyes fall shut for a moment before answering. "Please yes, Jack… I feel… as though I'll burst." There was a pretty little hitch in his voice, Jack was pleased to note, a little stutter every time Jack sank to his full length inside the man.
"Haven't got one free," he chuckled, very careful to keep that same pretty hitch out of his own voice. He squeezed lightly on Norrington's legs to illustrate his point. "You, however…"
"I - me?" Norrington looked a bit uncertain, as though he could handle the idea of being buggered by a pirate in his own bed, but the thought of stroking himself to completion was just a little much.
Jack nodded. "Aye. Let's have it, James; let me see." His voice sounded harsh, hoarse and broken by lust.
Norrington stared up into Jack's face, distracted by the pirate's voice in that strained tone, so obviously ravaged by desire, the same desire currently goading him most cruelly. An empty desire that wouldn't be filled no matter how hard or how full his body was at Jack's attentions.
Despite the self-consciousness that momentarily battled with the desperate urgency in him, Norrington reached down with his right hand, aware of the death-grip his other hand now had on Jack's thigh, and took his erect organ in hand.
He would have thought that he'd feel foolish to be doing this to himself, especially with an audience, and given the circumstances… But Jack's eyes flicked downwards and then back up to his face, and although his legs were up in the air and his arse being thoroughly plundered, and pillaged with less and less restraint, Norrington saw the excitement flare through Jack at the sight.
It was lovely really, to give himself over to the pleasure, and palm his own cock deftly in the familiar rhythm, and to have Jack inside of him at the same time. And to be able to cause Jack pleasure too, simply from touching himself.
The decadent lewdness of what they were doing together was nothing to the relief of finally grasping at it, and finding that all the longing and need and lust was finally being assuaged.
Norrington found the droplets of his desire leaking from the tip of his organ and smeared them around the head, gasping aloud as he did so, feeling rivulets of flame and shame both careening through him, licking over his skin, leaving him shaking.
Jack was still pressing forward with far too much care, and abruptly, Norrington realized it would never be enough, not like this. "Jack," he said lowly, carefully. "Harder. I need it harder. Please."
Jack sucked in a breath at this, and his own grip tightened on Norrington's thighs. He bit his lower lip as he complied, sinking deeper, harder, and then repeated the motion with a wicked little shimmy of his hips.
Norrington exclaimed at it, the pleasure spiking far too fast and loud in his body, the motion and the rocking and the short, sharp stabbing thrusts timed a little too wildly as Jack began to show signs of losing it, himself.
He wanted to ask Jack to do it, to just let loose, but his mind was lost in the whirling, pounding heat and infuriatingly delicious sin being visited unto his backside, even as his member trembled and pulsed within his own grip. He was close, too close.
Jack leaned over him a bit farther, and ended up with a fist planted on either side of him, a look of distress and pain upon his face. Norrington knew otherwise.
Panting, Jack growled, "Come for me, James, that's a good man. Come on. Want to see you coming for me," he stressed, with a hard stroke into him, which he quickly repeated.
It was, Norrington decided, a most intensive shagging, one that he could only imagine was partially inspired as much by the thrill of doing a Navy officer as by enjoying the act itself. Or at least that was what the shreds of his mental ability gleaned from that little demand.
And he couldn't have answered even if he'd been able to find the words, because the pleasure sweeping through him at it, at the way Jack had said it, the underlying need and poignant possessiveness in it, as well as the sinfully wicked, beautiful hardness shafting him unrelentingly joined with the throbbing in his balls and in his groin.
His lower belly abruptly flooded with sparks of fire and he was arching his back, throwing his head backwards into the pillow, unable to help a hoarse shout as the white lightning gathered and leapt out of him, coursing out of his body with wet, satisfied jolts.
Jack froze as Norrington shuddered and came apart beneath him. The temptation to drive into him, to give in to his desire and thrust harder, deeper, until he found his own release, was too much. And he didn't want to move without giving Norrington a moment to recover, to come down a bit. Too much pleasure could be awfully close to pain.
Then as Norrington shouted, Jack felt a dart of panic. "Shh, love, don't want to be waking up the house, do we?"
Norrington didn't respond. He lay back on the bed, gasping for air, arms splayed limp at his sides. Jack could feel his own arms trembling with the effort of waiting, of holding back. Slowly, Norrington's hitching, shuddering breaths evened out, and he opened his eyes to look at Jack.
"Jack… you… why've you stopped?" his eyes were concerned, despite the lazy, sated smile on his face.
"Waiting 'til you're ready, love," he answered, and even he could hear the tremor in his voice.
Norrington's smile widened. "Try me," he invited, and that was all Jack needed, and he was gone, plunging into Norrington without restraint, finally, blissfully, without holding back.
The relief Jack felt at no longer having to keep his desire in check compounded the thrill of taking Norrington, of watching the other man bring on his own release while he did so, and suddenly he thought, just maybe, he had a better idea of how Norrington had let things get so far out of hand last time, why he'd felt the need to bite Jack.
Then he couldn't think of anything, could only feel, and the feel of Norrington's tight passage squeezing around his aching shaft, the feel of the man pinned beneath him pulled him down, turned him inside out. As he spilled into the heat that seemed to surround his entire being, he could hear himself chanting, "James, James, James," like a litany.
"Shh," hissed Norrington, "shh, Jack, now who's going to wake the house?"
Jack chuckled and slid his hands up along Norrington's legs, easing them slowly down to the bed. He pulled carefully away and then lay down along the other man's body. Norrington hissed and flinched a bit at the rapidly cooling stickiness of Jack's spent cock pressed against his hip.
"Sorry, love," Jack whispered in his ear, "bit messy. 'N' loud. You're loud."
Norrington chuckled. "Mm. Not so quiet yourself, Jack."
"Shh," Jack admonished. "Quiet now." He nuzzled Norrington's ear and felt strong arms come around him far too gently as he drifted lazily, languidly to sleep.
Norrington awoke at the sound of nightbirds in the sky outside, coming in from beyond his window. A glance in that direction revealed it was still dark. Dawn was a few hours away yet. The crickets and frogs singing in the night provided a soothing accompaniment to the birds.
Norrington considered the weight of the sleeping pirate beside him, curled up against him as if seeking warmth, though the night was warm enough. His very own bird, he thought. Come back to him after all, despite their relative differences and doubts.
Wryly, he contemplated the soreness in his backside, wondering if he'd be able to hide it well enough in the coming days. And couldn't help the smile that crept over him at the realization that quite probably, Jack's staunch faithfulness to the two months between his first visit and this one was motivated by the same contemplations.
Norrington found he was content to watch Jack sleeping. It was a wholly new experience. At rest, when he wasn't swaggering and staggering about, those hands active in some fluttering mockery of drunken butterflies, the pirate was…well, he was quite attractive. Handsome in an entirely different manner.
Far from the animated buffoonery and mischievous grins, seeing Jack asleep had the quality of gazing upon a tattered lord. Those hard-worn edges sharpened by years of struggling to stay afloat, no doubt; and a face hardly youthful at all, with still a touch of that carelessly carefree attitude lent him by his insistent piratical calling.
Norrington lifted a hand, nearly giving in to the automatic desire to touch. And he stayed it, not wanting to wake him, wondering if he'd misjudged Jack Sparrow.
The man was no fool, and despite behaving as the sun-baked madman always teetering on the edge of a rum-bottle, caring for naught but to keep going, to keep dancing just beyond the reach of the noose, Jack had a courage of another kind, Norrington realized. To brave the hardships a life of piracy offered, merely for what? Freedom?
So why was he here, now, with him? A man dedicated to the Navy - and to bringing down every pirate in the Main? Why? Why risk the very freedom he valued to be here?
Norrington felt a soft, small ache inside his breast at this. It was more than sexual desire, it had to be. Surely. It wasn't just a simple dalliance. Perhaps it was worth the risk to his life, just to take something from a Navy officer, a few hours of pleasure and a little bit of sweet revenge as well. But surely there was more to it than that?
He swallowed against the hope, and bitterly thought himself a fool for wanting to believe it. Two nights of taking turns to show each other who could fuck the other into oblivion for the sake of mutual attraction and the need to prove their relative manhood wasn't exactly a romance. And did he even want a romance? Did he want to consider it as such?
Leaning over, he held his breath and placed a careful kiss against that smooth, sharp cheek, savoring the simplicity of delight in stealing a kiss from a thief.
The sensation of his lips against that warm skin was somehow a relief, and hearing the soft, even breathing of Jack's sleep, so close to him, tasting the slight reawakening coil of lust in his belly at it; he felt himself waking to it. Wanting more.
Pulling back a bit, he regarded the sleeping man and decided Jack was lost to the world. He pressed another kiss to that pouting, relaxed mouth, exhilarated at the silent ease of doing so. Those full lips beneath his, and for now, not having to worry about what Jack might say. To take a kiss from him and not concern himself with how much he wanted to, nor how much he delighted in doing so gently, with all the care he'd show a woman.
The ache within him grew, sharp memories adding to it now, of once dreaming of that. Of one day having Miss Swann for his own, the contented happiness of married life and a family to be his, assured by his position and career, and closeness with the young woman's father - not to mention having a partner in his bed that would not… leave on the morrow.
A pirate. For God's sake, what was he thinking? Taking Jack Sparrow to bed was hardly any kind of consolation prize. It was more in the realm of madness; which was Jack's domain. Insane flights of fancy, and yearning for something more than stolen kisses. Or frenzied debauchery, no matter how deliciously, sinfully hot and eager it all was. But it was undeniable. He wanted - no, he needed it. He needed him again.
For long weeks he'd suffered over wanting this man back here in this very bed. Why shouldn't he take a cue from Jack's own philosophy of life and avail himself of the moment?
Besides, Norrington knew deep down that he'd startled Jack most alarmingly last time. Perhaps he could - prove to him? That he could take him without turning to aggressive domination? Jack had been most educating and accommodating, after all, mere hours before.
The thought of taking Jack like this, rousing him from sleep, brought a bright lance of quickly growing arousal.
Norrington reached for the small jar of oil he kept on the other side of the bed, on the bedside cabinet. He thoughtfully slathered it onto his hardening cock and considered the sleeping man beside him with a dry smile.
Gently, ever so gently, he pushed Jack over onto his back, gaining a long, indrawn sighing breath for his trouble, but Jack didn't awaken.
Remembering Jack's fingers in him before, he carefully brought Jack's leg up and maneuvered himself atop the somnolent pirate, and then slid the tip of his slick finger against that tight, dark hole, thrilling at the way it gave, just so. With a slight whorled motion, he continued to slide it deeper, and the hot, tight silkiness around it was a lovely foreshadowing that made his breath catch in his throat, remembering how Jack's body had felt around his organ. How the heat and clenching sweetness of being inside of him had so undone him.
He withdrew his finger and added two, widening that sensitive orifice a little to prepare him, and then, biting his lip, Norrington carefully eased himself into position over Jack, and pushed the head of his cock into him.
Oh. God. The delight of it, the sheer and effortless satisfaction of penetrating him, inch by glorious inch, and the enjoyment of hearing Jack's breath suddenly change, and the way Jack's head went back, baring that long, lovely throat, the parting of his lips as a gasped moan was drawn from him. It was magnificent and quiet and entirely maddening. This slowness. To make love to him.
And the kisses he'd stolen before were nothing to this. Sweet all the same, but somehow just a precursor to this quiet invasion.
When he was fully sheathed in the pirate's body, he stilled, waiting, forcing himself to remain calm and not…lose himself again.
Gradually, Jack's bearing relaxed once more and he unconsciously ground himself against Norrington, causing him to sink a little deeper, yet, into Jack.
Holding Jack's right leg up so that his knee was pressed up to Jack's chest, and leaning on his other arm over him, Norrington slowly began to move in and out in a fashion destined to bring them both to the edge, but it really wasn't enough to do anything but whet both their appetites.
Jack was rocked awake by the same slow, ancient rhythm that had lulled him to sleep. He didn't open his eyes right away, content to lie there and let the sensations wash over him, rolling him gently like driftwood on the sand. He hummed in contentment and felt a smile pulling at his lips.
"Good morning, Jack." Norrington's voice was low and tender and entirely too self-satisfied.
Jack opened his eyes and saw Norrington smiling down at him. He glanced at the dark sky outside. "Long way from morning yet," he argued. Norrington only nodded, never faltering in the slow, sweet press of his body into Jack's. "Did you miss me that much, then, James?"
Norrington nodded again, his face falling into a more familiar, somber aspect. "Yes, Jack," he said simply, "I missed you that much."
There was a frank, raw emotion in that candid admission that shouted a warning to Jack's flighty piratical mind. Every instinct in him said to get out, to say something, anything, to stop Norrington from turning this carefree, comfortable arrangement into something complicated and confining. The warning, the instinct, the voice in his head that whispered to him to be careful, they were all drowned out by the contented hum that Norrington's gentle, solicitous stroking pulled from Jack's throat.
Determined to keep the tone of this little tete-a-tete playful, Jack teased, "Awfully rude to wake a man from a sound sleep, James. What kind of man has such base manners?"
Norrington chuckled and pinched Jack's side teasingly. "Yes, I'm sure my mother would be shocked to hear I'd behaved so badly. Waking up a pirate, when he'd only just got to sleep after I let him bugger me."
Jack was surprised again. Ought to be used to that by now, he thought wryly. But he hadn't expected this side of Norrington, the teasing, the laughing, the human side of him. He hadn't expected to find it so close to the surface, needing so much to be set free. He arched an eyebrow at Norrington in warning, grabbed his hips to stop that slow, sweet plunge. "Let him bugger you?"
Norrington rolled his eyes, then twisted his hips free in a commendable imitation of Jack's earlier trick. Jack shuddered and his own eyes rolled back in a completely different manner. He was momentarily confused when Norrington spoke again, having quite lost the train of conversation. "All right, I may have begged. A little."
Jack shifted his hands up to curl around the small of Norrington's back and arched his hips invitingly. Norrington, maddeningly, did not quicken his pace one whit. "It's nice, James, isn't it? It's nice between us."
Norrington granted him another rare smile and leaned forward to press a tender kiss to his lips. "Nice," he murmured against Jack's mouth, "Yes, Jack, it is rather nice."
It was an entirely different kind of madness, Jack thought, to apply such a benign word to something so primal. Yet it seemed to fit, and he was happy to think they'd come so far, from talk of hanging, to "nice". He nibbled at Norrington's lips, pressing teasing kisses that never quite delivered what they promised.
"Jack…" Norrington made his name a plea, and there was a little madness in that, too. In having James Norrington atop him, inside him, and still begging. Still letting Jack have the upper hand. With that revelation, he acquiesced, yielding to the sweet press of Norrington's mouth on his like his body had yielded to the deeper invasion, without his waking permission.
The slow burn of the unhurried kiss stoked a flame within Jack that burned less brightly and with far more heat than the frenzied passion of their previous couplings. There was a comfort, almost, a familiarity to the sensations of Norrington's tongue stroking his, Norrington's weight atop him, Norrington's cock moving leisurely inside him. It might have worried Jack, had he not known he'd be leaving town just after the wedding. A man could only get in so deep in three days.
Reassured by that thought, Jack grinned playfully and prodded Norrington's chest. "Jamie," he teased, "it is… nice… but how 'bout giving me a proper seeing-to, 'ey?"
Norrington found his eyes narrowing, and he said casually, "As always, Captain, you talk too much. And you know what they say: be careful what you wish for; you may get it."
"Aye, Commodore. I live in hope." Jack's irrepressible grin flashed entirely too much gold even in the considerable dark of his bedroom, and Norrington realized it was tacit permission to have his way with him.
How touching. Jack must have guessed how much he wanted to reenact their first encounter here between these very same sheets. He obliged the pirate by slamming home with his next thrust a bit harder, only to repeat it in a lazily accelerated fashion.
Jack's mouth fell open at this, his jaw going slack and his usual snappy repartee reduced to a low, keening groan.
It sent an aching thrill of renewed lust firing through his body, and Norrington could do no more than give in to the desire.
God, yes; to pound the man raw. To finally give in once more to the cruelly urgent need to sheath himself within Jack's errant, beguiling body over and over, playing them both like some duet. Certainly the sounds each thrust coaxed from Jack under him was akin to tuning an instrument; such musical notes a counterpoint to every beat of his own heart.
This sweetest torture a punishment for the both of them, even as he recalled the sensations of Jack's educational claiming of him from before, not a few hours ago. The excitement crawled over his skin now with sharp, hot claws, goading him onwards and inwards, over and over, his blood pounding in his ears and nearly drowning out the sound of Jack's helpless cries.
Too much noise, some vestigial part of his mind recognized. And he silenced Jack by smothering his lips with his own.
Even as he swallowed the loudest of Jack's yelps and moans with each furious slide into him, Norrington felt his own senses drowning at last. But the suffocating need to keep quiet was maddening, for he knew that neither of them could afford to betray their tryst to the world.
A dangerous, evil little thought pricked inside of his head, urging him in a rough whisper to forget, just for this moment, and let fly caution along with his ardency.
He was nearly shaking, the heat having risen far too quickly within him, in being allowed to use Jack again as he'd dreamed and longed for. And abruptly, he tore his mouth from Jack's, gasping for breath, glad for the respite of fearing the noises would be too great, for Jack too was panting now.
There was a horrible, raw itch burning inside of him now though, the need to shaft him yet more roughly, to give it to him properly, and he recognized it as the very goad that had driven him to bite him before. To claim and mark, and own, and hold onto him so tightly, to never let him go. Keep him here. Sense was lost, as was reason, and all thoughts were fled but one: to fuck Jack Sparrow into oblivion, and damn himself to it as well.
Centered wholly on his cock in the delicious, rippling, clenching heat of Jack's surrendering arse, he concentrated on the freedom of letting go the tightly disciplined hold on himself, and reached for the moment that Jack was offering him so generously. To touch that place once more, to let it all go out of him in a flood of fire and heat and love and need and sweetly-painful, sinful pleasure.
No words, no meaning; nothing but need and want and possessing.
Jack gave himself over to Norrington with no hesitation, and he was immediately rewarded for it by the man's sudden abandon of restraint and caution. The unforgiving stretch and press of Norrington's cock inside him tossed his mind like a bird in a storm, and Jack let himself be lost to it.
As Norrington's jerking thrusts grew stronger, wilder, more uncontrolled, so did Jack's vocalizations of pleasure. Weak, pleading moans swelled to gasping, arching exclamations that broke and crashed into delirious cries before Norrington's mouth swept over his, stealing his voice and his breath in one.
He had a moment to think, Ah, so this is drowning, and then, then Norrington wrenched free, and they were both scrabbling for air.
Norrington's eyes were glazed, distant, and Jack wasn't entirely sure he was even aware of Jack's presence. He tried to call to him, tried to say something, anything, James, and all he could produce in the face of Norrington's savage onslaught was a staccato keening.
It was more than a little unnerving to hear this inarticulate cry echoed by the normally impassive Norrington, and much, much more than a little electrifying. Jack's finely honed sense of self-preservation warned of making too much noise, of drawing attention to their illicit activity, and every other fiber in Jack's being shouted at that sense to shut up, shut up, he was going to hear James scream and if it happened to be his name, so much the better.
The rhythm and the release and the straining freedom were overwhelming, and Jack could see that Norrington was losing it, really losing control, and he could hear it, too, hell, half of Port Royal could probably hear it at that point. He still couldn't bring himself to care, and that deep, seductive wave of warmth rolling over him whispered of surrender and drowning and spoke nothing of danger, or hiding, or being cautious.
Norrington did shout, he did scream as he emptied himself into Jack, and though it wasn't his name, it was madness and brilliance. The look on his face swirled around the sound of it, the sound of James Norrington gone mad wrapped in the sight of a man driven beyond all reason. Jack wasn't aware that he was tipping over the edge until he fell, until he felt the hot patter on his belly, and realized he'd sunk his teeth into Norrington's shoulder to muffle his own shout. Or to do a bit of marking of his own.
The abrupt silence made the noise of a few moments before seem that much louder by comparison. There was a stillness in the room that felt almost fragile, and Jack opened his mouth carefully, as though afraid he might shatter something. He licked his lips, testing the movement, and licked the mark on Norrington's shoulder.
Jack felt as though he ought to say something, but he wasn't quite sure what. Norrington took the burden from him, asking softly, "Will you stay, Jack?"
He shook his head, opened his mouth to remind Norrington of all the reasons why he couldn't stay, not even until the wedding, he couldn't spend his time here. Norrington's weight settling over him seemed to press the words out of him. "Aye. I'll stay, James."
Norrington let out a breath, feeling a tremendous satisfaction at hearing the concession. However resigned it was. He closed his eyes against the contrasting amusement that lanced through him; the 'courting' of one Captain Jack Sparrow. What a man had to do in order to convince him to stay for a few heartbeats longer afterwards.
At least this time, his pirate wasn't just bolting out of bed and out the window.
He was quite content, in fact. His mind had melted somewhere along the way, and he honestly couldn't be bothered to worry about anything beyond the immediate desire to keep Jack pinned to his bed beneath him until morning. He swallowed as he realized he wasn't going to be able to stay like that forever though.
Sure enough, Jack shifted uncomfortably under him.
Norrington wordlessly pulled out of him, wondering at the joy of leaving such a sweaty, sticky mess in his bed, and murmured, "You'll not get away from me this time."
A bit testily, Jack snorted, "As if, mate. Do I look like I'm trying t' leave? I jus' said I'd stay. Honestly, James. You do-"
Norrington cut him off with another slow, languorous possession of his mouth. He didn't relent either, and refused to move off of him.
As Norrington finally relinquished him, Jack said plaintively, with a hint of a smile, "Getting separation anxiety again, are we?"
Easily, Norrington replied, "You have a way of leaving with the utmost alacrity when you think I'm trying to keep you here, Captain." He breathed another sigh of contentment and tightened his arms around Jack, slumped over him quite happily. "I'm not anxious."
Jack shifted under him again, apparently attempting to communicate that he was rather…uncomfortable, being held down.
Drowsily, Jack remarked, "Aren't you? You beg so nicely, mate. It's hard to miss. Besides, you're hardly to be blamed for wantin' to hold onto my fair self, James. I am Captain Sparrow, after all."
Norrington began to suspect that Jack was chattering to disguise the fact that he didn't want to leave at all.
Mildly, Norrington murmured where his head lay on Jack's smooth chest, "Don't worry, Captain; your sordid little secret is safe with me."
He waited for it, a small smile lingering on his lips in spite of his best effort to remain sober. Sure enough, Jack tensed under him. "'Ey? An' which secret would this be?"
Norrington sniffed nonchalantly. "You're quite obvious, Jack. There's no need to dissemble. I know you want to stay. I also know you can't ask me to keep you here, which is why I asked you to. To spare you the trouble and loss of dignity in having to ask. But you should know by now that you're more than welcome in my bed."
Jack seemed to be thinking this over. Despite his amused tone, Jack sounded almost…sharp. "That's very thoughtful of you. James."
"Don't mention it," Norrington said, wondering how long it would take for the reparations Jack would undoubtedly launch into at this.
"Seems to me," Jack continued, meaningfully, "you're the one clutching me, mate. 'Course, that could be inadmissible, by-the-by, what with your just having brought down the house and raising it to the rafters, 'ey? Still," he added, thoughtfully, as if mulling it over, "I do seem to recall you biting me rather hard last time. And then beggin' and pleadin' most prettily."
But Norrington had already outed himself as being very reluctant to have Jack leave, both the first time and this second night together, and he replied, easily, "Well, I'm afraid it's your turn to apologize this time, Jack. This time, you bit me."
Jack stilled. "Ah. So I did. Sorry, mate."
Norrington did grin, now, and waited again.
Jack cleared his throat and said, rather roughly, "If I didn't want to stay, I wouldn't. There's no one can keep me if I don't want to be kept."
This sounded so petulant to Norrington's ears, as if Jack were convincing him against his own knowledge to the contrary, that he raised his head and scanned Jack's eyes in the dim, watery light of the bedroom. Dawn was just starting to fill the room with the hints of darker blue rather than the black of night.
"Of course not," Norrington agreed, watching the way Jack's eyes didn't meet his.
"I'm glad that's understood," Jack said.
"Naturally," Norrington replied. The silence descended again, this time stretching to a thin thread of tension.
Jack's eyes finally flicked downwards to meet his gaze. Norrington's breath caught in his throat at it, and he found himself frowning in spite of himself, with concern at the wealth of -
Was it fear, that he saw written there? Or was it merely worry gleaming in Jack's expression, that he might have discovered the truth? Norrington wondered. He'd only been prodding; teasing really. After all, he was the one with the Achilles Heel, here. He was the one who had the weakness. Jack was hardly as ticklish as himself, nor was he as needy, and emotionally starved for company. Jack was -
Jack was afraid of admitting he wanted to stay.
A tender, affectionate curl of care wound around Norrington's heart at this understanding. Norrington swallowed and said in a low voice, in an attempt to erase the worry from those eyes, "You're right, of course." Thankfully, the tension began to drain out of Jack's face, stealing away almost immediately at this. He continued, "I can't keep you. And I won't try to. You have my word on it. As long as I have your word you'll-" He paused. And had to bolster his confidence himself now, at what he was about to ask. "As long as you'll always come back."
He felt Jack's careful intake of breath at this, and the gentle relaxing of the pirate's body beneath his. "'Course, mate. Always."
But Jack's eyes still held his and that dark gaze watched his now with the same note of suppressed apprehension.
Edging down a little further, Norrington laid his head back on Jack's chest again and murmured, "Good."
Jack's hand reached up to his hair at this, and the sensation of Jack's fingers stroking through the strands felt sensual and slow. Norrington felt himself reveling in the simple act of having this done to him. It almost felt like being…petted.
He knew he'd pushed Jack as far as he dared, for now. And decided that, given the additional days and nights until the wedding, he had some time to plan for further advantages in the future. He supposed for tonight, he could count himself lucky that he'd managed to get Jack to stay at all, really. And it was so touching, the things that Jack didn't - or couldn't - say, held beneath the surface of their conversation.
"Need a bit more sleep," he said in sleepy, husky tones, letting himself settle in place, his eyes closing.
The gentle stroking continued unabated, and Jack murmured, "'Til the morning, then."
It was a long time later, when Jack's stroking had long since stilled upon Norrington's head, fingers tangled in his hair, and Jack obviously believed from his even breathing where he still lay sprawled atop him that he'd fallen asleep, that he heard the barely sibilant whisper.
"Always, love. I'll always come back for you."
Norrington fought to remain silent, and unmoving. But it was hard, with the bright burst of happiness that shot through him at this. It was, in fact, most difficult simply to feign sleep and not let his breathing change.
Victory, at last, he thought. And let sleep claim him fully then.
~ Fini ~
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