Norrington reacted to every touch like a virgin, which Beckett supposed he was and imagined him as coming into manhood early and easily defending himself against the pederasts at sea that grabbed at midshipmen because their asses were like peaches.
Each flinch from Beckett's touch brought an apology as James did not mean to shy away, it was simply a reflex. This did not bother Cutler in the slightest as he stripped the Admiral down and appraised the white flesh as it was revealed, scars and all.
Beckett urged Norrington to sit on the bed and went down on bended knees atop a satin pillow before him and urged James' knees apart. Cutler situated himself and took the Admiral in hand, slicking his tongue against the tip of his flaccid cock.
James jumped at each touch; bit his lower lip as Beckett fixed those cold eyes on his, and grasped the edge of the bed with white knuckles on white linen when the Lord's hot, little tongue slid beneath his foreskin. Flustered, Norrington looked away and apologized.
A little bit a teeth, a little bit of pressure and James had his head tilted back, breathing in wet whimpers through his mouth, Cutler's eyes fixed on his arched throat. A final hard suck with a wet pop and Beckett urged his Admiral to scoot back against the bed.
Beckett tossed James the satin pillow and told him to roll over. Norrington grasped the pillow and stared blankly, clearly not knowing what to do. Climbing onto the bed on all fours, Cutler reached for a jar on the chair next to the bed.
Beckett took back the pillow and pressed a hand against Norrington's hip and rolled him over. He braced a hand against his buttocks as he crawled between James' legs. His Admiral did not have an ass like a peach, more like the meat of a pear, crisp and white.
Grasping those lean hips in both hands, Beckett pulled Norrington's ass up and told him to put the pillow beneath his belly. Each flinch and gasp was followed by an apology as James did as he was told, his cock growing slack as Cutler prepared him.
Beckett slid the thick cream from his fingertips down the crack of Norrington's ass and pressed a little at the puckered hole. James yelped as a fingertip slipped inside of him and he surged away while his inside clamped down and pushed the finger back out.
Cutler shushed him through his apology and tried again, swirling a bit of the cream around his entrance before sneaking inside. James grasped the sheets, rigid and frightened, but managed to hold still as he breathed hard into the pillows.
Norrington bore down on his finger unconsciously and Beckett's cock surged at the thought of pressing into that tight, hot space against the resistance. Cutler warmed the cream in his hands and then spread it on his own straining cock. James whimpered.
Slippery hands grasped Norrington's hips and positioned him just so and then Cutler was holding his own cock, guiding it into James. Beckett had just breached the tight ring of muscle when the Admiral had whined and bucked away, dislodging his cock.
Cutler patted his bottom gently and tried again through James' gasping apologies. Beckett held on firmly as he pressed into Norrington again, groaning loudly over the sounds of James sobbing wetly into the bedding. Both were tense and trembling.
Beckett moved, moaning, and James keened and jerked away. Cutler covered Norrington with the full weight of his body as the Admiral begged and pleaded with him, apologies dropping from his lips as he tried to escape. James' submission had become rape.
Norrington tore at the sheets and Beckett loved how each thrust was greeted with supplication and it colored the whole encounter with the overtones of punishment instead of pleasure. Cutler grappled with James, their faces twisted with their own urges.
Without quite realizing it, something was happening. James was sobbing into the bed, tears streaming down his face as he tried to get away from Cutler and begging, "Forgive me, forgive me," over and over. Beckett felt something inside of him hurt - his chest.
It felt like his heart was breaking backwards, the rent edges stitching themselves up and meshing together. It hurt so bad, his chest ached with it and for a moment Cutler Beckett thought he was dying. He pressed his face into the nape of James' neck.
Unable to breathe, Beckett climaxed and images from the past floated up and flashed in the hollows of his eyelids. He did not know quite where he was anymore, but the feel of the warm body limp and sobbing beneath him gave him pause.
His nose was buried in the other man's hair as he begged for forgiveness. Shaking from his core, Cutler breathed deeply and smoothed the loose hair along the curve of the man's head. He said very quietly in a whisper, "I forgive you, oh Jack, I forgive you."