FicWad

The past week had been trying and that was putting it lightly. His promotion, the proposal to Elizabeth and her subsequent plunge into the ocean. Capturing Captain Jack Sparrow, something that would have been a crowning achievement in his career, no doubt leading to yet another promotion or, at the very least, a commendation. The attack of Port Royal. Elizabeth's capture. The loss of the 'Interceptor'. And now this. Elizabeth accepting his proposal, but only because he'd sworn to rescue her beloved.

It made him laugh because it drove home the fact that she really had no idea of the favor he was doing her.

An uncharitable thought, yes, but no less true. Not that Norrington viewed their betrothal as a favor to her. He did care for her, deeply. He might even love her a little, although his motivation for asking her to be his wife had little to do with love. He'd chosen her partly because it was a good match in temperament, but mostly out of ambition and status. She was the governor's daughter, and Norrington was a man with ambitions. Yes, it was a good match.

But now ... the whispers were already starting, although he'd done his best to quell them. That was only on his ship, though; there was nothing he could do about the gossip that would begin in town, or, more likely, had already begun. He only prayed she did not conceive too soon after their marriage. A tainted woman who had been the prisoner of pirates for at least three days could only hope to hold onto some shred of her reputation by holding off on having a child.
He didn't, however, think that she'd been taken, either on the Pearl or by Jack while marooned. Still, t'would be best to consummate their union as soon as possible--immediately upon returning to Port Royal, if possible--lest she do anything rash, such as take the Turner boy as a lover too soon.

Norrington sighed as he removed his wig. Elizabeth was safely ensconced in the cabin below him with her father. She was wearing male clothing which, Norrington had to admit, was quite fetching on her. In addition, she'd insisted on remaining on deck all day, clinging to the rigging with her already roughening hands, darkening her formerly pale and lady-like skin as if she wished not only to worship pirates, but look like one as well.

He hoped, rather fervently, that if she decided to run off and turn pirate with the blacksmith, she would have the decency not to marry him first. He didn't need that humiliation.

Night was drawing near, and Norrington had ordered both her and her father into a cabin, supposedly to dine. He was not hungry and had begged off, needing time alone to gather his thoughts and plan on how best to go about rescuing the infernal Turner boy.

As for their uninvited guest, Norrington had half a mind to string him from the yardarm now, not giving him the chance to betray them. But he could not; the blackguard was needed to make sure the found the cursed island.

Truthfully, Norrington had no wish to find it. He didn't care if Turner was killed; it would work to his favor if he was, in fact. Less chance for his intended to run off.

Unless she left with Sparrow.

Shrugging out of his coat, Norrington unbuttoned his vest and placed both in the wardrobe. They were hours away from the island, and he'd not slept much in the past few days. He'd close his eyes for a moment so he would be refreshed and ready when the battle came.

He'd no sooner stretched out on the bed and closed his eyes when the door creaked open. Norrington's breath caught, outraged by the audacity of the pirate, for none other than Sparrow would dare breech his sanctuary without invitation.

Slowly, trying not to arouse Sparrow's attention, Norrington slid his hand underneath his pillow, fingers closing around the pistol that was kept there.
"Don't be troubling yourself, Commodore, I've not come to harm you," Sparrow drawled, amusement evident in his voice.

Holding back a sigh, Norrington sat up, and rested the pistol casually in his lap. "What are you doing in here, Sparrow? I though I ordered you to remain on deck."

"Yes, you did. But I found myself unable to obey. You see, I'm in a quandary," he said almost apologetically. He approached Norrington, headless of the pistol.

"And what quandary would that be?"

"The task you gave me."

Norrington raised an eyebrow.

Jack smiled. "You told me to 'contemplate all possible meanings of the phrase 'silent as the grave'," Jack said in what was, to Norrington's chagrin, a good imitation.

"Yes. That is what you should be doing, not, I think should be have been quite obvious, bothering me. Or, doing your contemplation in my cabin."

"Yes, I caught that. It was a bit obvious." Jack began to glide across the cabin to the bed, causing Norrington to watch in fascination at the way he moved even as the voice in his head began suggesting that he might, quite possibly, want to get out of the bed lest he be tempted overmuch to stay in with company.

"Then why are you here?"

Jack's hands flopped elegantly and, indeed, a bit foppishly, in the air. "I must admit, my dear Commodore, I'm a bit stumped. You see, I can only come up with two meanings, so I thought I'd apply to the master who gave me my assignment for help, savvy?" His eyes gleamed with a predatorily light, almost feasting on the small triangle of flesh revealed through Norrington's open shirt.

"No, not 'savvy.'" He said sharply, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. "The task was metaphorical. I don't care if you think of two or two hundred as long as you remain silent." He swallowed, heart rate picking up as he realized he'd allowed the pirate to approach his bed and now Sparrow was standing over him, smirking.

Very deliberately, Jack placed his hands on either side of Norrington's head on the bed frame and leaned into him. "Ah, but you see, when given a task, I try always to complete it. I'm persistent that way and, since I'm having trouble, I am forced to apply for your help." He leaned closer.

Norrington rose swiftly, forcing Jack to take a step back. "Get out of my cabin or I'll have you thrown into the brig."

Sparrow smirked. "Now, now, Commodore. Don't be too hasty." He raised one hand and ran his knuckles down Norrington's cheek. "I'm not ready to leave just yet."

He swallowed hard, cursing the heat the suffused his body. He'd known from the first moment that he'd laid eyes on the cursed pirate that the man was dangerous. In more ways than one. And now, standing so close to Jack, pistol pressed against his chest, Norrington found himself ... afraid. And excited.

Sparrow's lips twitched. "Two definitions, Commodore," he said in a husky voice, index finger tracing the lines and planes of Norrington's face. "Silent as the grave like a grave is silent because there's only a dead body in it, or it's empty. And silent like a grave silence when you receive bad news."

Fighting to keep his voice steady, which was hard with the lust that creeping through his body, making him feel warm and heavy, Norrington answered, "And this is what has kept you occupied for the last six hours? Your mind is slower and emptier than I thought."

Sparrow's smile grew and those dark eyes canvassed his body. "That's not entirely what's occupied my mind."

He swallowed. "Sparrow ...."

"Jack," came the gentle correction as sea-weathered fingers traced his lips. "The name is Jack."

Norrington pulled his head away and narrowed his eyes. "Sparrow, leave my cabin now, or you will find a very large hole in your chest."

"Is that so?" Sparrow seemed more intrigued than anything else, which was not what Norrington had been hoping to accomplish. Perhaps his voice lacked the conviction needed to make a threat like that work; it was a nice cabin, and he was, admittedly, a little loath to get blood on anything. Even if it meant Sparrow would be out of his life.

He straightened his spine, trying to pull resolve around him. "Don't test me, Sparrow. The fact that you are still alive as it is gift enough."

"Gift, is it? Then allow me to thank you." His fingers threaded through the short hairs at the nape of Norrington's neck.

He pulled away, as much as Sparrow allowed him to. "What do you want?"

Teeth flashed at him and Sparrow said, "I want you to put down the pistol."

"You break into my cabin and expect me to surrender my weapon."

Sparrow's smile grew. "I'd fancy playing a bit with your weapon, Commodore, if you don't mind."

"How dare you ...."

"I dare because I've spent last night stuck on an island with a beautiful woman, ripe for the taking, but wasn't. I dare because I've spent three days on a ship with a beautiful man, ripe of the taking, but also wasn't. In both cases, the other parties were too innocent for it to be anything but rape at this point, but now, stuck in a cabin with an equally fetching commodore, I see no reason not to act on our lusts. Savvy?" His lips brushed underneath Norrington's jaw, causing him to inhale sharply.

He swallowed. "I'm going to kill you the moment I find the chance."

"Aye, I know. And yet, I'm not complaining." He pulled back, hands held loosely at his sides.

"And if I say no?"

Jack smiled. "Don't say no." Then he grabbed for the pistol.

The movement was so fast, Norrington almost missed it. Jack's hand connected with the barrel just as he pulled it away.

"Sparrow!" Norrington hissed, off balance. He started to fall when Sparrow grabbed his wrist and squeezed.

"Give it up, Commodore." He twisted.

Norrington grunted, pain streaking up his arm. Sparrow slammed him into one of the bedposts, making the world swim around him.

Growling, he shoved Sparrow away from him. However, he wasn't expecting Sparrow to keep his grip on his wrist so when Sparrow went flying back, so did Norrington.

Sparrow laughed. "Very good, Commodore," he taunted. "But ...." He foot swept out and caught Norrington's ankle. He stumbled and fell, Sparrow following.

"Oh," Norrington groaned, head smashing into the hard wood beneath them.

"Mind your head," Sparrow panted. He smashed Norrington's hand into the floor; Norrington's knuckles gave and he lost his grip on the pistol.

"Ha!" Sparrow crowed. He sat up, straddling Norrington's body. His dark eyes, still smudged with kohl, shone with pleasure and lust.

Norrington propped himself on his elbows. "All I have to do is call for my men."
"Aye." He picked up the pistol and put the barrel of it against Norrington's head. "But I can still get a shot off before they get through the door, savvy?"
He considered Sparrow a long moment before shaking his head. "You didn't come here to shoot me."

"No?" He seemed to consider it for a long moment and then smiled. "Perhaps not."
Norrington shivered at Jack's tone; it was warm and deep. Like rum and sunlight.

Sparrow smiled. "What is your name?"

He didn't answer.

The pistol cocked. "Your name."

Still he hesitated. He knew that Sparrow wouldn't shoot him--at least, he thought he knew. There was no danger, and ....

The pistol pressed harder into his head.

"James," he finally gave up, grudgingly.

The smile grew. "James," he said, as if savoring the name. "James. Fine name, James. Fine man, too." Jack fixed the pistol and set it aside. "And it cost nothing to give."

"Sparrow, end this ...."

Sparrow moved quickly once again, pulling Norrington's arms from under him and forcing them above his head, pinning him to the floor. "The name's Jack, if you don't mind." He moved his hips, pressing himself into Norrington, allowing him to feel the pirate's hardened manhood.

A full body shuddered racked him. He flushed at his inability to hide his reaction. "Jack. End this charade. Leave my cabin and ...."

"All in due time." Jack bent over and pressed his lips into Norrington's.
His heart leapt into his throat. He couldn't breathe, couldn't move, couldn't do anything. This was not what he'd been expecting. Yes, he'd resigned himself to the fact that Jack was going to do his best to seduce him. He'd also known that it was to be a struggle, both between himself and the pirate and himself and his baser nature.

Who knew he could be so easily disarmed by such a simple thing as a kiss?
Jack's lips were chapped, and his beard and mustache scratched at Norrington's face. He was making a soft humming sound in his throat as he insistently moved his lips against Norrington's, tongue tracing the outline and pressing against the seam.

This was madness.

In a desperate movement, Norrington threw all his weight against Jack's restraining body. The pirate was taken off guard, concentrating, Norrington supposed, on the kiss, so he gave just a little, allowing Norrington to slip away.

"Here, now," Jack protested. He released Norrington's wrist, but tried his best to stay Norrington's near-frantic backward scramble as he tried to get away. "And we were getting on so nicely." He pinned Norrington against the bed, dark eyes studying him carefully.

Norrington swallowed, trying to stop his heart from pounding so. He'd never had a man kiss him before. It was simply something that wasn't done, even when being intimate. In fact, intimacy with men was about ... fast, quick, and uncomplicated pleasure.

What in blazes was Jack up to?

Jack's eyes narrowed and he cocked his head. "You're afraid. Why?"

He licked his lips and swallowed. "Not fear." He couldn't admit that the mere fact he'd been kissed had both thrilled and terrified him.
Jack raised an eyebrow and studied him for a long moment. He warm eyes canvassed Norrington's face and eyes, and finally he agreed, "No. Not fear." His hands smoothed over Norrington's cheeks.

He gasped. His skin was so hyper sensitive, that he felt the touch acutely. Every rough patch, every callous, ever imperfection that dragged over his own smooth skin stirred a current in his blood that streaked slowly down his neck and chest until it pooled in his groin, making him grow hard.

"Aye, that's it," Jack murmured. He leaned in again and very, very gently kissed Norrington's open mouth. His lips were chapped and tasted of salt and rum.
He couldn't move. Couldn't lift his hands to push Jack away nor to draw him near. He could only sit there as Jack kissed him, tongue sliding inside his mouth to twist and dance with his own. Only gasp in shuddery breaths, growing harder by the moment, a restless, powerful energy building in him until his head swam.

"Are you going to run, love?" Jack asked, hips riding into Norrington's as he kissed down his neck.

"No."

"Thank God." Jack slid off Norrington, tugging him with him. Norrington allowed himself to be pulled to the floor until he was flat on his back, beneath Jack. Their mouths found each others again, this time hungry and hot. They tore their clothing off, tossing articles without care where they might fall.

"Beautiful," Jack whispered as he kissed his way down Norrington's chest. He settled between his legs and thrust.

"Ah!" Norrington cried out, back arching. He hooked his leg over Jack's back and ground himself into the pirate, feeling their hard lengths rub together. Sweat broke out over his body, beading along his forehead as he reached up and wrapped his arms around Jack shoulders, fingers kneading into the powerful shoulders.

"That's right," Jack was muttering as he thrust against Norrington. "That's right, love." He reached in between them and took both their cocks in his hand.

"Jack." Norrington released Jack.

"Do you have something to say, or do you just like saying my name, James?" His teeth flashed wickedly, and he stopped his caresses, holding their cocks together tightly in his hand.

He released a shuddery breath. "Would you prefer I was silent?"

"Wasn't that the point of this conversation?"

"Is that what we're doing? Conversing? You seem to have discovered a definition of the word conversation I was entirely unaware of." He raised an eyebrow and immediately lowered it when Jack ran his hand teasingly up the length of his--their, actually--their cocks.

Norrington groaned loudly, falling back so he was propped on his elbows. His hips thrust into Jack's hand uncontrollably, sweat rolled off his forehead, sticking his hair to his head.

"The point of our conversation," Jack started again, a wicked smile in his voice, "was for you to demonstrate your definition of silent as the grave, while I do my very best to make you be anything but silent."

He laughed breathlessly. "I see. You didn't explain yourself well enough, I'm afraid, and I was unaware that was what we were doing." He bit his lip as Jack's fingers strayed to the sensitive skin behind his sac.

"Well, James?"

"You really are the devil," he gasped, realizing that Jack did indeed want him to talk. To think. Groaning, he sat up and took Jack by the shoulder, rolling him to the floor. Settling his cock into the juncture of Jack's thigh, he said, "Silent, like people at a funeral," as he thrust into the sweaty skin.

Jack gasped and nodded, grinding into Norrington's hipbone.

"Silent, as someone standing over a grave."

"Same thing."

He shook his head. "No. Solitary."

"Ah."

"Silent like ... as a cemetery."

"Think I said that."

"Silent as ... someone who's just died." It was getting so hard to think; his thrusts were coming faster, and Jack was bucking his hips into Norrington, cock caught between their stomachs.

Suddenly, Jack stiffened beneath him. His body went completely taut, and face froze in an expression of perfect ecstasy.

Norrington hoped he had something to do with that expression as he felt the evidence of Jack's passion spreading over his stomach.

"Ah," Jack said shakily, his hand snaking between their bodies. "Ah, yes." He was shaking, sweat making his face shine as he began to jerk Norrington with a strong, steady hand. "Roll on your back, love."

He complied, rolling off Jack. Jack quickly followed, propping himself above Norrington with one hand, the other still working between his legs.

Norrington shuddered, feeling his climax build, pooling just beneath the skin. He was on fire, skin so raw that the very air seemed an agony of the best kind, caressing him, driving him closer to the edge, closer to completion.

And then a pair of salty lips captured his own and it was done. Body arched, a wordless cry escaped his mouth to be swallowed by the man who'd wrought it in the first place.

He collapsed on the floor, limp and sated. Jack rolled into him, one arm resting almost possessively across his chest, the other propping his head so he could gaze down at Norrington.

"Didn't think you'd let me do that," Jack said after a moment.

He laughed, a little helplessly. "No. Nor did I, though you've been promising since the moment we met."

A smile curled Jack's lips. "Wasn't sure you noticed."

"I'm not entirely blind. Actually, I'm not blind at all." A serious cloud settled over him. "I see more than I would wish, at times."

Jack was silent, hand drawing idle patterns on Norrington's skin. He was never still, Norrington mused, as if it tired him more to remain quietly at ease than moving constantly. Interesting; he, himself had spent a lifetime perfecting the art of mimicking a statue. People found it both off putting and comforting. Off putting because he had so much self control, and comforting because a man of self control would not fail them.

Of course, it was possible a man of true self control would not have submitted to a notorious pirate quite so quickly, but there had really been no compelling reason to decline the offer. In a short number of days, Captain Jack Sparrow would be out of his life, either permanently or ...

One tumble did not change Norrington's mind as to his duty. He must do his best to see the pirate hanged. And if the same part of him that had acquiesced to this illicit and ill-conceived affair wished that he might find some reason to let the pirate go free, well, Norrington would simply have to make sure the Commodore overrode the Man in that circumstance.

Jack suddenly pulled away and began gathering his clothes. "We'll be on the island soon. Unless you wants your crew to see you in such a state of dishevel, you might want to dress as well."

Norrington rose slowly and went to the basin in the corner so he could clean up. "Your concern for me is touching."

"Works in my favor if your men still respect you when we face Barbossas' crew."

"Always thinking of yourself."

"Must have something to depend on, mustn't I?" He smiled roguishly, and caught the cloth Norrington threw at him.

"Do me a favor, Jack. Don't allow my future wife to leave with you after this venture, should you slip away?"

Jack cocked his head. "Why don't you marry her now? She's a woman of honor, and won't leave with me anyway, but you could put fortune in your favor."
Norrington shook his head. "Marrying her before returning to Port Royal would only cement her guilt in the eyes of others. She left a virgin, she must return being treated as on."

"She is."

"I know that." He raised his eyebrow.

"Of course." He seemed to considered it a moment, and then shrugged, pulling on his breeches. "You might just be a good man, Commodore."

He smiled faintly. "I like to think so. But I am also an officer of the British Navy and an honor-bound one."

"Honor. Aye, well, sometimes honor and law are two different things."

"Indeed," Norrington was forced to admit after an unhappy moment.

Rum colored eyes met his after Jack finished dressing, and then a dangerous smile crossed Jack's face. "Thank you, Commodore, for helping me pass the time. Your original task was, indeed more exciting than I could ever dare hope." He bowed obsequiously, hands pressed before him as if in prayer, and then Jack traipsed from the cabin, leaving Norrington alone to contemplate honor, the law, and the frustration that was Jack Sparrow.