"Of the Sea" by mcee

(NC-17) Norrington/Turner

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The boy let out a whimper, half-curse and half-blessing, and tightened his grip on Norrington's hair, soaked through from the discarded wig and the heat of the forge. Norrington smiled against the soft skin of Will's thigh and leaned in to gently take one of the heavy testicles in his mouth; rolled it on his tongue and sucked gently, before releasing it, letting it rest, spitshiny and flushed, against Will's thigh. He stroked the boy's cock, hard and leaking, two quick flicks of the wrist just to keep him along.

Norrington rested his cheek on Will's leg, smiling thinly but more genuinely than he remembered smiling in ages. "I can keep going, Turner." He kept his voice deliberately low, mumbled and scratchy with the stifling quality of the air, a far cry from the imperious tones he wielded on ships and land.

Will breathed, fire in his lungs and in his head. "Yes. Yes, please, Captain..."

Norrington almost grinned and hid the smile against Will's groin, licking the muscled crease of stomach and leg, tiny curled hairs brushing on his tongue. "Very well..." A calloused finger thumbed Will's sack, palmed its heaviness for a moment before Norrington leaned back down to take Will fully in his mouth, cockhead pressing against the roof of his mouth, sliding back.

His breeches would be in a fine state once he'd get up from the forge's filthy floor. Norrington hummed his amusement and his boots scuffled over the dusty floor as he repositioned himself to reach under and run a finger along Will's arse, tip dipping in teasingly.

Will jerked into Norrington's face, hips trembling, whimpering unintelligibly. There wouldn't be need for further, Norrington knew, and he hollowed his cheeks and sucked harder, teeth grazing, fingertip almost pushing in. Will's grip in his hair was nearing painful and Norrington felt the resulting hardness in his own trousers, blissfully ignored.

When a constant trembling settled in Will's thighs, Norrington pulled away, mouth popping off Will's cock with deliberate obscenity, and took the boy in his hand, working the overtaxed flesh to completion. Out of breath himself, he sat back on his heels, panting through a satisfied smile, and watched the boy's face from his vantage point. "Come on, lad. That's good, yes..."

There was a small cry, nothing more than a choked whimper and a telling stiffening of limbs, and semen spurted hotly onto Norrington's wrist and fingers, wet strings of it staining the cuffs of his shirt. The last few pulls were sticky and made looser for the boy's benefit and comfort.

Norrington held Will's cock in his hand as he watched him come down, chest heaving to a slower up-and-down. He patted Will's thigh and released him to lick the tacky fluid off his wrist. Ridiculously, he had half-expected it to taste of soot; but the blacksmith tasted just like Norrington liked to imagine Jack Sparrow did:

of the sea.

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