And on the sixth day Disney created Jack, his lovely Commodore, and all other POTC goodness.
This is slashy Sparrington. Don't read if that's not to your taste, savvy? Con-crit, comments, good, bad, indifferent, all welcomed, yearned for, and returned whenever possible.
My humblest apologies to LadyBush, RedStockings, Kickassangel and Oneiriad, whose reviews were removed along with the rest of my story, accidentally, somehow, when I was trying to update with the story editor. I read all your reviews and do appreciate your comments. Please forgive my clumsiness. Your kindness is branded forever on my heart, though lost to cyberspace.
It all starts innocently enough, truth be told, as most of Jack's adventures do. He and Lady Destiny go way back. Jack will always buy the pretty Lady a drink. If next thing Jack knows, he is hanging upside down naked by leg irons from some strange bowsprit, well that's life, innit? Can't let the dire consequences stand in the way of having a bit of fun.
Well this time, Jack only sails to Port Royal to check up on the lad and lassie. See if the two of them have manacled themselves together yet, in front of God and everybody. Jack plans to wheedle a wedding invite, if they haven't yet and are still keen on a bad idea. Turns out, he's no sooner beached his little boat, when who taps him on the shoulder in the near darkness?
Jack whirls. The considerable size. The pleasing shape. The impeccable posture. The perfect uniform. The delicious smell? Of good rum? "Bloody hell, James! Like to scare the life out of me. Trying to save on cost of rope?"
"Spar-row. Tell me why you are here."
"Come to visit you, James." Jack leans in, a friendly hand pressed not quite on Norrington's shoulder, not quite on his chest. Norrington shrugs the hand off like Jack is just returned from a leper colony, which in point of fact, he isn't.
"I do prefer Captain, or Jack since we're such fine mates now."
"I doubt that."
"No, I really do prefer it, mate."
"I doubt you have come to Port Royal to visit me."
Why? Life of the party, you are, you cloistered, stiff arsed, priggish, bloody Navy fart. "That's the trouble with you Naval lads. Wouldn't trust your own dear mums. Bet you changed your own nappies, dincha?"
"Are you drunk, Captain- Pirate- Spar-row?"
"I'd say you are a good deal closer to it, Commodore. Still got the bottle of rum on you, by any chance?"
James sits where he stands on the sand facing the ocean, takes out his flask, and hands it up to the pirate.
Metal, bet it's silver. Probably got a commodore's fine initials engraved on it. What? No silver chain- with the other end hitched to your highly polished chastity belt?
Jack follows suit, by sitting next to James. He takes a swig and passes the flask back to him.
"Thank you, James. What you doing out here this time of night and all on your onesies, ey?"
"None of your business."
"Ah, Lizzie, then, is it? She's a fine girl, James- but really you are better off without her, seeing as how Will got there first."
"Are you impugning Miss Swann's honor, Pirate?"
Still Miss Swann then, is she? "Now go easy, mate. Got to her heart, I meant. Say, aren't you the prickly drunk?"
"Yes. I am- cold."
"Are you? Come here and give us cuddles. I'll warm you right up."
"Did not mean that. I meant that I am not a warm person."
Got the know thy self part nailed down. "What idiot made that unkind remark? I'd disagree. I'll bet you can be most passionate, Commodore, when properly roused."
"How do you make everything sound like a joke unfit for mixed company?"
"Didn't realize the company was mixed, but so noted. Would you be feeling a bit lonely, James?"
"What if I am? What is it to you?"
Nothing at all, mate. Don't you worry your pretty head about it. "Not good to stay lonely. Don't have to, you know. You are most welcome to my company."
"Jack, what makes you think I would care for your company?"
Caught you checking out the goods often enough. Just browsing, are we, Commodore? "James! You called me Jack! Well, that's a lovely start!"
"Oh- Mister Sparrow, then!"
"Nope too late, James. You're stuck with Jack now."
"God help me."
"I'm not so bad, James. Haven't drank all your rum yet. Haven't spit in it so you won't want any more, either. Haven't taken advantage of your condition, or of our current situation, even though I'm quite certain I could. Haven't even tried to kiss you, and not because I wouldn't like to. So you must admit-"
Jack finds himself flat on his back fairly well covered from the wind by a less than sober commodore. James presses his lips to Jack's lips. Jack's lips and teeth part invitingly. James pulls back.
"Good Heavens, you really are a sodomite! On top of everything else!"
"You're the one on top, mate."
"Oh, quite right." James rolls off, sits up, and takes up the flask again. He drinks and passes the flask.
"Well now, that was interesting! I have to say, Commodore, I much prefer kisses to your previous hospitality," Jack says shaking some sand out of his hair before taking another sip.
"Were you put on this earth just to torment me?"
"Doubt even the heathen gods would be that cruel, mate. Can I ask you a question?"
"If giving up being a commodore would make you happy beyond your wildest dreams, would you do it?"
"Would you give up piracy under those same conditions?"
"Of course! But see, there's the rub. Being a pirate, sailing the seas on my Pearl- that's what makes me happy, James!"
"So are you happy, Sparrow?"
"Jack, I'm Jack, James, and yes matter of fact. I might be the happiest sod alive, love."
"Now that you have your ship back, is there nothing you want from life?"
"Oh aye, James, any number of things. But then you see, I want to want! I'll always find something, or somewhere, or someone to want."
"Ha! Greed makes you happy."
"Life, freedom, and desire, make me happy, mate."
"I do not understand you."
"Oh but I think you do, James."
James passes the flask back to Jack. Jack sets it upright in the sand, and grabs Norrington's collar, pulling him down to recline next to him. Jack pulls up his knees, and props his head on his hands.
"Look at all those stars up there, James. Ever wonder about them?"
"Wonder what exactly?"
"What it's all made of, mate! Personally, I think it's like the sea. All those stars are like islands just waiting to be discovered!"
But next time you look up, bet you'll think of the one that got away. "Maybe, but you don't have be so dismissive that you go and hurt my feelings," Jack allows himself to smirk, knowing Norrington wasn't looking. Then he bites his lip hard.
"Jack, I don't- hate you."
Nope, not me you hate, mate. "Never thought you did, James."
"Really? I thought I did."
"No, I did not! I mean, yes, I- I did think so."
"What changed your mind?"
Gunna need a lot more rum. "Well now, I would have figured that had you reason to hate me, it would be on account of the Interceptor."
"I know. It made me most unhappy when you took her. Lost the Interceptor, then Elizabeth, then you. It did make me realize something about you, however."
"What's that, then?"
"That you were good at it. You are good at what you do. Up until then, I had thought of pirates as unworthy of any sort of respect. Would never have thought it possible for anyone to do what you did. I could not have done it, Jack."
"That bothers you? Look mate, it's just a different way of thinking. If you'd been a pirate, you'd have commandeered the Interceptor, too. You don't think like a pirate, because you're not one. If you were, you would; but you're not, so you don't. Simple as that."
"May I- kiss you?"
Oh bloody hell. "Oh aye, James. Can kiss me anytime! You needn't ask."
Jack waits. James does not move. Jack decides the good Commodore must have passed out. He is about to sit up and drink the rest of the rum, then go about his merry way, when James whispers, "Will you kiss me instead, Jack?"
Jack rolls slowly on to his elbow. Jack studies the body on the sand beside him. The uniform can not hide his fine figure, those broad shoulders, that lean belly, the long muscular legs. He really is quite the view- even if he turned out to be bald as the moon under that horrible wig. Norrington is very still, with both hands folded over his chest. He looks fit for military burial, but not for kissing.
With his right hand Jack pries Norrington's left hand off of Norrington's right. Jack massages the palm with his thumb a bit, until the hand is not a dead stiff thing, but is alive, responding to his touch. He brings the palm to his lips and kisses. Then he kisses the tip of the thumb and each finger. He takes the index finger into his mouth and hears James gasp. He runs Norrington's finger over his teeth, lowers, then uppers, introduces the finger to the roof of his mouth, then to his tongue. Jack sucks the finger hard and nips the tip on the way out. He holds the hand, and leans over James, pinning the hand in the sand by Norrington's left ear. It stays put of its own accord, when Jack releases it to run his fingertips over Norrington's face.
Very slowly, Jack bows his head to the kiss. Jack's lips brush against Norrington's, parting and closing in a multitude of little nibbling kisses. At first James does not respond. Jack realizes that the man isn't even breathing. Jack's hand wanders down to the Commodore's crotch. He gives a little squeeze, and is rewarded with a bumped forehead, an open mouth, and a quick intake of breath, cut short by Jack's invading tongue. In no time at all, Jack's tongue meets up with it's new best friend, tells it a funny story, and asks it for a dance.
To Jack's delight, James puts his arms around him and pulls Jack on top of him. Then only seconds later, pushes him off again.
Should have known, should have bloody known! Yes, let's do play the 'get Jack pointlessly hard' game, cause he's been at bleedin' sea so long even the parrot is starting to look good. But he says in his silkiest voice, "I take it that you have changed your mind about your kiss, Commodore? That wasn't it, you know. Was just getting us warmed up."
"We can not stay here. Come home with me? Please, Jack."
"Will you be arresting me in the morning, or just as soon as you sober up, Commodore?"
"What would be the point of arresting you? Miss Swann, or rather her father, has made it abundantly clear to me that you will not hang for piracy in Port Royal. Sodomy will put us both on the gallows. Being unwashed and strange looking isn't against the law yet, unfortunately. You have my word of honor that you are free to leave, or stay, just as you please. Sunday tomorrow; so the servants are off. I will make you breakfast, if you decide to stay, that is."
Play 'get Jack pointlessly hard' but at least feed the poor devil after several hours. Well, that's not so bad, then. "Breakfast? I wouldn't miss it, James. Tell you what. You walk on ahead. I'll follow you up. Can't have your fine reputation sullied by being seen sneaking in a legendary pirate."
Norrington starts walking, then turns, and seems about to speak. Then turns away again and starts off toward the nicer part of Port Royal.
Norrington's house is a huge gray stone affair, not quite as grand or impressive as the governor's mansion. Where the mansion looks built for entertaining, Norrington's house looks built for keeping armies of cats. Norrington probably didn't have a cat, even. Mice wouldn't dare. Jack wonders how alone one man can feel rattling around in a huge house like this one. The thought of it gives him a bad case of the shivers. He climbs a trellis and rolls soundlessly through an open window into the Commodore's well lit bedroom. He can hear nothing in the rest of the house, but knows James is in it, somewhere.
Jack sets Norrington's empty flask down on his dresser, takes off his clothes bundling them along with his effects in a corner on the floor, and quickly and efficiently washes his hair and entire body in the hand basin using some minty smelling soap. He dumps the used water into a large potted palm by the window. Then he snoops around a bit, as he drip-dries onto Norrington's Persian carpets. He finds a small oil portrait of a bonny lass. By the eyes, and the age of the portrait judged by the style and the smell of the paint, she looks to be Norrington's dear old mum, caught here for all posterity, in her better days.
He reads what he decides must be a cunning code, for it is the most mind-numbingly boring letter he has ever imagined one having the nerve to write to another, addressed to Dear James from someone who signed kindest regards, Bunny. He is about to pick the locked desk and rifle its contents when Jack hears Norrington's heavy steps on the stairs. He hops under the covers instead. James looks truly shocked to find Jack in his bed.
"Good evening, James. You do remember inviting me, aye?"
"I thought that you weren't coming."
Jack gets out of bed. Norrington blushes and turns slightly averting his eyes. Jack rests his hand on Norrington's arm. "Sorry love, have always favored windows over doors. Get undressed and come to bed with me, James."
Norrington turns away so that his back is to Jack and starts to undress. He fumbles with his coat until a well shined button pops off and bounces against the nearest wall. Jack picks it up and sets it next to the flask on Norrington's dresser. He watches as James manages to convey the impression of getting his fingers caught in the ties of his breeches. Norrington's hands are shaking badly. Jack turns him around to face him and proceeds to help. He does not protest as Jack undresses him. For one thing, it gives James the excuse he seems to need to gaze upon Jack's nude body.
"Where would you like your coat, James?"
"Hmm? Oh, thank you, I will take it."
This is how it goes. Jack removes a piece of uniform and hands it to James. James folds or hangs it. Eventually, Norrington is divested of his clothing including the horrid wig. He is an even finer looking a man than Jack had imagined with a head thick of lovely flowing light brown hair. Jack takes him into his arms. Norrington stiffens, and not the part that Jack wants that way.
Jack wonders how long it will take him to get really fed up with Norrington's favorite game. "Am starting to sense that your heart's not in this, mate. We could talk or play cards or charades or something, if you'd like."
Norrington looks pained. "Jack, I've never-"
"Never with a man, yeah?"
"Never with anyone."
Well, I'll be blowed! We was all just wondering where the last virgin had got to. "Certain you want this? Now? With me?"
James takes a deeply miserable breath. "Do not make me beg."
Jack steps closer to James and lifts his chin, stroking his cheek and neck with the back of his other hand. "You'd never have to do that, mate. I find you most desirable, James. You do realize you are a veritable treasure?"
James looks skeptical, but does not say anything. Jack holds out his hand, and when he takes it, leads James to his own bed. Jack pulls back the covers. James gets in. Jack crawls in on top of him. Jack holds him and talks to him for a while, hoping Norrington might relax a bit. Jack strokes his face, his hair, and whispers to him of Norrington's bountiful attributes from Jack's growing list. He kisses his face and neck gently. Still, Norrington is so wooden that Jack feels in danger of catching splinters. Finally, Jack decides slow is not the way to go. Jack ducks his head under the covers and takes James into his mouth.
The shock of it causes Norrington to bolt upright. Jack pushes him down again. He puts his weight on Norrington's hips to keep them stationary and starts to suck in earnest. Jack quite likes Norrington's virgin cock. He likes the scent of it, the length and width of it, the shape of it, the color, and the taste of it. He loves how, with very little effort on his part, almost none in fact, it explodes its creamy ordinance into his mouth. There is only one cock Jack knows that he prefers to Norrington's, and that is the one to which Jack is very attached.
Apart from a bit of hitched breathing and something that sounds like a wince James is quiet throughout. Jack swallows and, for good measure, licks Norrington way past clean of any stickiness that may have but did not escape, then joins Norrington on his pillow. Jack takes James into his arms relieved that Norrington's body feels more relaxed now. So just how bloody tense was he before he started drinking? "Have you ever tasted yourself, James?"
"Then come kiss me and taste yourself, love."
James does so tentatively, as if expecting to find something vile in Jack's mouth. What starts as a taste smoothes out into a rather tender kiss. "A bit bitter," Norrington says smiling, at last.
Jack smiles too. "Not unpleasantly so, love. I quite enjoy your taste. Would you like to taste me?"
Norrington says nothing.
What's this then? Free whore night at the Commodore's house- not that ol' Jack's complaining. "No? Well that's fine, love. We can-"
"Yes, Jack. Yes, I would. I'm sorry. I was not paying attention to what you were doing just now. I am quite unsure as to how to proceed."
"Relax your jaw, love."
Norrington looks puzzled.
"Just open wide like you are yawning. Yes, that's it. Your objectives are suction and causing sensation using mouth and tongue without a lot of teeth. Best to start just covering your teeth with just your lips. Yeah like that! What you don't want to do is gag and vomit up all your lovely rum. So breath through your nose, when you haven't got a lot of me in your mouth. Now, try to imagine what would feel good to you. Then you- oh- but that feels bloody good! Yes well, I'd say we have discovered natural cock-sucking talent, love. No, no, no, no, don't stop! Why are you stopping?"
"Are you going to talk the whole time?"
"Not if it puts you off."
Jack closes his eyes and pictures the Commodore, in full dress uniform, blade drawn, muscles taut, eyes ablaze, all set to run Jack through. Then Jack opens his eyes and watches James using the same determination to pleasure his cock. Jack spills a copious amount with a groan and a very silly smile on his face. Perhaps it is the ingrained tidiness in James. He swallows every drop of it, then licks and sucks the surrounding area, all for the benefit of the fancy bed clothes, no doubt. Jack had always found that neatness was over-rated, until now. Jack pulls him up again and tastes his mouth and his own very familiar essence mingled, as it should be, with the taste of good rum.
"Are you sleepy, love?"
"Not at all. You?"
"Do you have anything oily?"
"Butter, hemp oil, whale blubber, goose grease, lard- banana peels work surprisingly well."
"Scented bath oil?"
Jack smiles incredulously. "You use bath oil, James?"
"Of course not. My sister left some here on her last visit."
The smile widens. "James! You have a sister? Younger, or older?"
"She's married. Happily. Stop that."
"Stop what, mate? I'm not doing anything."
"Stop- looking at me like that."
"How do you imagine that I'm looking at you, James?"
"I do not want to think about it."
"Does it make you jealous, just because I am interested in the fact that you have a sister?" Now, anyone would lie and say no to that.
"Yes, it does."
"This scented bath oil, James, where is it?"
James climbs out of bed, opens the bottom drawer of his dresser, and pulls out a rather large blue bottle with a label in French. He hands it to Jack. Jack reads all the poncey nonsense, pulls out the stopper, and grins with delight.
"Do come here James. I have a present for you."
James eyes him suspiciously but returns to bed alongside Jack.
"What sort of present, is this, Jack?"
...to be continued...