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by Melusina and The Stowaway


Fandom: PoTC    Rating: NC-17    Pairing: Jack/Norrington    Full Header


Late one afternoon Jack Sparrow and James Norrington were lounging, at Jack's insistence, in the great cabin of the Black Pearl, drinking rum. It was hot, notwithstanding the breeze from the wide-open windows. After the second glass, James had unbent sufficiently to shed his doublet. Jack had, of course, taken off his coat long before. It had taken a third glass for James to imitate Jack and put his feet upon the desk. Jack's smile was not lost on James, although he gave no sign of it.

During a pause in their somewhat desultory conversation, James took a too-large swallow and grimaced. Jack laughed at him.

"Fine 'common sailor' you are, mate. Don't like rum much, do you?"

"Nothing wrong with preferring brandy," James replied.

"Above your company," Jack nodded wisely, then grinned.

"I prefer to think of it as having refined tastes," said James with dignity.

"Oh, to be sure, my lord, you have those," Jack chuckled, winking. James ignored him. A pause. "You know James, I just happen to have a small cask of eau de vie aboard."

James was indignant. “Well then, let’s have it, you devil.”

Sparrow dropped his booted heels to the deck and sprawled invitingly. A glinting, sidelong look. "Make it worth my while."

One eyebrow raised, James grinned and took a deliberate sip of his rum. He refused to give Jack the satisfaction of seeing how tempting an invitation it was.  "No," he said.

"Pity," Jack shrugged. "I like you on your knees.  It suits you."

James snorted and rose, going to the map table. He unrolled the top chart. It was presumptuous of him – no 'common sailor' would have dared – but he needed to be doing something, in the face of the pirate's needling.  Sparrow made no comment and James did not look to see if he was watching, reluctant to hear more on the subject of Commodores and their sniffy and encroaching ways. Instead, eyes on the map, he asked, "When do we make Port Royal?"

"What's your hurry?"

A fair question, James thought, but not one he was ready to address. “It’s been seven days, Jack, and with fair winds. You said a week.”

"I did, but we stopped for provisions, if you recall."

“And shore leave for the crew – except me.”

Jack was unapologetic. “Newest crewman always gets that duty, mate.”

"Tell me another," said James, sardonically. Jack's barely concealed pleasure in ordering him about could not but grate, at times.

But Jack assumed a soulful expression, placing his hand upon his heart. “It was for your own protection, love. What if someone recognized you?”

“What would they see? The Prince of Denmark? James VIII? Spare me.”

Jack chuckled. “Well, I did return early to …ah…console your loneliness, so to speak."

“Ha," James tried not to blush at the memory. "Self-serving bastard," he said, but the accusation lacked force. That night, alone on the Pearl with Jack, on deck, under the stars had been…remarkable. He bent over the chart to hide his confusion. “Why is there no position marked?”

Jack tapped his temple. "All right here."

“Where I can’t see it.”

"Now, mate," Jack sounded hurt. “Don’t you trust me?”

James favoured him with a long look. Jack preserved his air of guileless candor with the ease, James reflected, of long practice. James kept his own face expressionless. "No," he said.

“Not even a little?” Jack got up and strolled over and slipped his arms around James from behind.. “Not even sometimes?”

James straightened and Jack nibbled the back of his neck and mouthed his earring, tongue flickering wetly. James' breath caught, but he remained silent.

Jack sighed. “You’re a stubborn man, James Norrington. May I remind you that you trusted me sufficiently to make me a promise, not so very long ago.”

“I did not.”

“Oh, but you did.”

“When? What are you talking about?”

“Eight days ago, love.”  James flushed. "Right over there, in that bed," Jack nodded.

“I don’t remember."

“You might not, at that," Jack conceded. "Seeing as how you were a bit distracted at the time. But I do. ‘Yes… God… Jack … anything’ were your exact words. Along with some very pretty begging.”


“You beg beautifully, you know.”

"Stop it," James growled, goaded.

Jack chuckled and ran his hands lightly up over James' chest. One stayed to rub gently at his nipple through the soft linen, the other hand ghosted downward, brushing across the front of James' breeches. Sharp teeth nipped at his shoulder.  Came a smoky whisper in his ear, “I want to break you, James. I can do it.”

“No," James gasped, and fell stubbornly silent, lest his voice betray him the way his body already had. Jack's fingers were stroking him to hardness through his breeches and he just barely stopped himself from rubbing against that teasing hand. "No," he said again.

“Yes, love. You promised. As a man of honour – and a member of my crew, and bound to obey me,"  Jack's voice held a muted but unmistakable glee, "you don’t have a choice, really.”

James turned in Jack’s arms. Sparrow snugged him close with one hand on the small of his back and the other closed on his nape and drew his head down until their mouths touched. James' arms tightened around Jack and he sank briefly into the kiss before catching himself and drawing back. He scowled. “You fight dirty, Jack.”

“Pirate!" was the unrepentant reply. Jack eyed him mockingly. "Well?”

James sighed heavily. “What, exactly, do you have in mind?”


Jack closed a hand around each of James' wrists and put his mouth to James' ear. "I want you. . .helpless.  At my mercy." He thrust his hips forward. "Savvy?"

James' eyes were wide, filled with fascination and suspicion. Before he could speak, Jack pulled off his sash and, finding a small rent in one of the short ends, easily tore a long strip from the length of fabric. The sound seemed to set James on edge, and he stiffened and inhaled sharply. Jack attempted to tear the strip in half, but the cloth refused to give. Finally, he took his teeth to it, ripping it apart with an exasperated growl.

James stood frozen while he struggled with the sash, but when Jack reached for James' arm, he jerked away, putting some distance between them.

Jack pursued him methodically, until James was backed against the sideboard and could go no further. "A promise is a promise, love," Jack said genially.

"Given under duress!" James exclaimed.

Jack quirked an eyebrow and let the silence speak for him.   

"Besides, I was not. . .myself, then."  James' voice wavered, as if his excuses sounded weak even to his own ears.

Jack stepped back, held his hands up in a gesture of surrender, then delivered his coup de grace. "Are you or are you not a man of your word, Commodore?"

James tilted his chin up and narrowed his eyes. Jack waited, toying with the strips of fabric in his hands, until James slowly raised his arms and held out his hands, wrists together.


"Good man," Jack murmured and his smile widened.

Jack's grin, it seemed to James, was extraordinary for its careful lack of gloating. If anything, this made him more suspicious than ever. He kept his eyes stubbornly on Jack's and tried not to flinch as the pirate's hand cupped one of his and turned it palm-up. Jack undid his cuff button and laid two fingers against the pulse that beat, heavy and telling, beneath it. James felt himself flushing. "Good man," Jack whispered again and loosened the other cuff. "Off."

James pulled his shirt free of his breeches and over his head, dropping it to the deck as he reached for the other man. Jack grasped his wrists and bore them downward.

"Against the rules, mate."

Involuntarily, James' hands fisted and his arms jerked, but Jack's grip tightened roughly and, with surprising strength, he crushed James' wrists back against the sideboard. As the carven wood bit into his flesh, James glared and, with an effort, stilled himself. "Sparrow, what…" he began, only to stop on a gasp as Jack's body, with the boneless muscularity of a snake, pinned his, and Jack's mouth fastened itself to his shoulder, biting sharply.

"Rule Two: no questions." Jack's purr was unmistakably smug and James' eyes, which had closed as Jack nibbled along his collar bone, snapped open, watching the dark head, now bent to lick his nipple, warily.

"You mean to say," James began again, but Jack cut him off.

"Shhh, love," Sparrow grinned, "Rule Three: trust me."

James' "Ha!" of disbelief became a long, sighing "Ahhhhhhh" as Jack ground their cocks together, and his head fell back. "Jack," he groaned.

By way of an answer, Jack released his wrists and, taking James' face between his hands, kissed him with a ferocity that made his head spin. Sweetness and heat and a dark undertow of apprehension made his breathing stutter and his knees loosen. Grasping the sideboard to stop himself reaching for Jack, he groaned again and felt Jack chuckle.

"That's it. Just relax," he breathed, mouthing James' earring, biting gently and tugging. James sighed and allowed his head to fall forward on Jack's shoulder, rolling it to the side as Jack tongued his jaw before kissing him again. "Now," Jack whispered, "lie down."

James stiffened and threw up his head, a mix of lust and fear roiling in his gut.  I want you…helpless.  At my mercy. Savvy? " James shuddered. "Are you or are you not a man of your word, Commodore? " Jack was watching him with knowing eyes, the bastard. "Helpless." Could he do this? Could he surrender so completely – to Jack?

Jack's eyebrows rose and his smile grew mocking. "Afraid, James?"

James scowled, stung. He pushed past Jack and stalked to the bed, hesitating only a moment before lying down upon his back. He glared as Jack came to stand over him, grinning widely and running the strips torn from his sash through his fingers.

"Arms above your head, love," Jack said, with what James felt was really irritating cheeriness, as he climbed into the bed and knelt astride James' chest.

For a moment, James was distracted by the extraordinary sensation of Jack's leather boots pressed against the bare skin of his sides, the heels digging lightly into his hip bones through his breeches. Then he gasped sharply as Jack wrapped the cotton strip around his wrist, knotting it firmly before drawing his arm up and out and tying him to the suspension chain at the corner of the bed. Before he could stop himself he twisted and yanked at the bonds until Jack leaned on his arm and held him still.

"Relax, love. Trust me, eh?"

Trembling with the effort of complying, James stopped struggling and allowed Jack to bind his other wrist to the opposite chain, although, once Jack sat back, he could not resist testing the bonds again. Jack knew his business; he was held as securely as if he were manacled, but without the slightest physical discomfort. Breathing hard, he closed his eyes. He felt near to panic. He was helpless indeed; at the mercy of this pirate, what a fool he was…

Jack's voice, low and amused, diverted his attention yet again. "Just as I thought," Jack said, "this suits you, too." Jack climbed off the bed and James was shocked to hear himself whimper at the loss of contact. He opened his eyes and watched Jack cross to the desk and return with the rum bottle.

"Jack, what are you going to do?"

"Ah," Jack shook his head, sitting down on the edge of the bed, out of James' reach, and uncorking the rum. "No questions. Remember the rules." He took a swig and offered the bottle to James, who refused it. "You'll change your mind about that, before I'm done with you," Jack said. He reached out and idly drew his fingernails across James' nipple, watching the reaction with a grin. "Well, I'm feeling generous – so I will answer this one question for you, mate." Jack held out the rum and tipped the bottle, pouring a few drops onto James' chest and leaning down until his mouth hovered a hairsbreadth from James' skin. "I am going to make you sweat."


Jack blew lightly on the wet skin and James shuddered, then bit off a cry as Jack lapped the rum off his chest. He was already well on his way, Jack thought with satisfaction.

"That's it, love," Jack said soothingly. No sense spooking him now. This could take all afternoon, and if Jack had anything to say about it, it would. Ever since the spell had been broken, Jack had longed to see James as he'd been that first time -- desperately, completely undone. This was an opportunity that might not come again, and Jack intended to savor it.

Since Norrington had remembered himself, there was a solid core in him that would not bend. They'd kissed and touched and fucked, but there was a part of himself that James kept in reserve, icy and inviolate. And Jack was determined to break that part of him before they returned to Port Royal. No telling what might happen after that, but Jack would have that memory to hoard. James-the-pirate's surrender had been sweet, but it was naught but a pale imitation of the triumph Jack now anticipated, of taking Commodore Norrington apart, piece by piece. Jack was going to put his claim on the Commodore, and then they'd just see what happened next.

Jack trailed his tongue up James' chest and into the hollow of his throat, feeling the pulse thudding there and smelling the now familiar scent of James' skin: rum and tar and the sharp tang of limes. The smell brought back memories of their previous encounters -- "Please, Jack, please fuck me". . .that time in the hold, dark and hot and James' skin slippery with sweat and come. . .A wave of lust washed over Jack. It was tempting to throw aside his careful plans, but Jack could be patient when he was called to be, and this victory would be finer for the waiting. Reluctantly he pulled himself away (smirking at the small protesting sound James made) and took a deep draught of rum.

There was little to betray the Navy man in James' current debauched appearance. His eyes were wide and fever-bright, his breath shallow and fast, and his hair disheveled from his struggles. Jack pushed it back out of James' eyes, then loosened the tie and raked his fingers through the silky strands. They'd grown quite long in the past few weeks - it was a shame James'd be cutting it all off soon enough.

Jack tightened his grip and kissed James roughly, pulling away as James began to return the kiss. James' brow furrowed in confusion and Jack laughed. Keep him off-balance, keep him guessing; that was the idea. He ran the tips of his fingers across James' jaw, soothing the tension there, and then across the curve of his bottom lip. James' lips parted and his tongue flicked across Jack's fingers, followed by a sharp nip. A stab of heat went through Jack and he yanked his hand away. "Play nice," he warned.


James bared his teeth, as confusion turned to anger. "Rules," he rasped. He was mortifed to hear his voice shake in time to the pounding of his heart.

"Rules," Jack nodded.

James forced himself to take a deep breath. "And if I don't choose to follow them?"  That was better, he thought, firmer.

Jack sighed. "Tsk, James.You must ever be questioning." He drew his thumb lightly down James' chest, grinning when, James, to his fury, could not stop himself arching into the touch. "Well then, the longer it takes you to follow the rules, the longer it will take me to give you what you want."

"What I want."  Outraged, he growled as he wrenched yet again at his bonds. "What I want, you bastard?" Even as he said it, he knew, to his shame, that it was true. He glared furiously at the dark face above him, hoping against hope that Jack could not read it in his eyes.

"Aye, love," and there was no mistaking now the exultant tone in Sparrow's voice, "what you want - as you'll admit, if you're honest." He stood, and, moving to the head of the bed, ran his hands into James' hair, fingers rubbing gently, soothingly, in circles. Jack knew him too well already – knew the ways past his defenses. James felt his anger slipping away as his eyes slid closed. He sighed. The trinkets in Jack's hair clinked as he bent down, bringing his lips to James' ear to whisper, "And, to put it beyond doubt… Rule Four: you'll have to ask."

James started to say "Never," and caught himself, flushing at the memory of the times he had   asked – no, begged  – and he bit his lip.

Jack chuckled, but forbore to tease him further. He withdrew his hands and James felt the bed shift as Jack climbed into it once more and sat astride his waist, booted knees clasping his ribs. He shuddered and opened his eyes.

"Ready for that drink yet, mate?" Jack asked. When James nodded, Jack raised the bottle and took a swig and set the bottle beside the bed. Then he leaned down and pressed his mouth to James', passing the rum to him in a slither of tongues.  As the kiss deepened, Jack slid backward until he was pressed against James' groin. James moaned into Jack's mouth as Jack began a slow, lascivious rolling of his hips that sent jolts of pleasure up James' spine and made him thrust upward, aching for more. Jack broke the kiss to bite once more at his shoulder, sucking hard to leave a dark bruise.

"For the love of God, Jack," James gasped, "are you trying to kill me?"

"Not quite yet," Jack smirked, "Although there are worse ways to go.  For now, I only wish to drive you a little mad."  And he slithered even further down James' body, until he was straddling his thighs, pinning him firmly and depriving him of that exquisitely tormenting presssure against his cock.  James rolled his head against the pillows and moaned.

For a long while, Jack merely skated his fingers over James' chest and arms.  Then the light touch became rougher and more intent.  Neither of them spoke, and yet the air was full of sounds - James' ragged breath, the guttural cries he couldn't quite stifle, the creak of the bed as Jack moved to better explore James' captive body, and Jack's pleased laughter when he provoked a particularly gratifying response.  Time moved slowly, measured by heartbeats and moans, and James was stunned to hear the noise of the watch changing and realize they'd been at this game an hour or more.  

Grinning, Jack leaned forward and ran hard palms up James' sweat-sheened torso and back to grasp his hips. He bent his head to dip his tongue in James' navel.  James' skin shuddered at the touch and he tried to buck against the hands holding him still, gasping as Jack's grip tightened bruisingly.

"Hold still, love," Jack purred. "Be silent."

James tried to obey, but he couldn't keep from whimpering as Jack's hand let go of his hip and  teasing fingers slipped beneath his waistband.


Jack eased the breeches down over James' hips, pausing to nibble on the point of his hip. James tensed, then groaned when Jack tugged them lower, dragging the cloth across his erection. Jack slowly pulled the breeches further down James' legs, trailing kisses and bites along the exposed skin, but carefully avoiding James' cock.

James was making a valiant effort at following the spirit of the rules, even if the letter of them escaped him. His struggles were abortive, constricted things - a foot flinching, hips bucking up and then quickly back, knees sprawling a bit wider - and his fists were clenched tightly with the effort of controlling himself.

When Jack slipped off the bed, James started and opened his eyes, something very like panic flashing across his face as he strained once again at his bonds. "Don't-"

Jack laid the flat of his hand on James' chest to still him. "Easy, love, I'm not going anywhere." Their eyes met, and James swallowed hard and dipped his chin down once, in the tiniest of nods. Jack held his gaze a moment longer, then pulled the breeches off James' legs and climbed back onto the bed.

He retraced his path up James' body, whispering and crooning to him, rarely touching him, instead letting hot breath slide over the bare skin, ruffling the soft, downy hairs.  They'd never taken this much time before; now Jack was struck with the urge to map James' body, to commit it all to memory for the later that loomed ever larger in his mind.

While Jack lingered, the sun dropped to blaze directly through the stern windows; shadows lengthened and the cabin had become unbearably hot.  Jack stopped his slow progress to taste the sweat that trickled freely down James' arm, before resuming the incantation he was breathing into his skin.  Caught up in his exploration, Jack was hardly aware of what he was saying, only of the way James shifted and squirmed in response, and the soft whimpers James could no longer contain.

"Mine. . .you're mine. . .don't you forget it. . ." The low, feral growl that escaped Jack's lips brought him to his senses, and he gave himself a little shake to clear his head. Slow down, he told himself, make it last.


James was lost. The caress of  Jack's voice against his skin, the vibration of it like the stroking of a velvet glove,  the occasional brush of beaded hair,  were driving him closer to madness with every moment that passed. His body screamed with need and yet the fraying strands of his will held him immobile and silent as surely as the bonds upon his wrists. His entire awareness had narrowed to the sensation of Jack's mouth hovering –not touching – moving slowly, so slowly, over every inch of his flesh. He was unaware of his own panting whimpers, of the words Jack chanted over him. They had no meaning, any more than the roar of blood pounding in his ears. When the chant ceased, it was a long moment before he understood what was missing.

He struggled to open his eyes. When at last they obeyed him, it was like looking through deep water or thick glass – everything blurred and shifted and he closed them again with a groan.  He shuddered as fingers traced a path up his thigh and came to rest on his hip, and this time, when he opened his eyes, he could see Jack – sitting up now – stroking him gently, almost absently and frowning at the bulkhead beyond the bed.

Suddenly, Jack leant over the side, placing one hand flat on James' belly to steady himself, and retrieved the rum. He uncorked it and drank deep, then re-corked the bottle and set it upon his knee, rocking it back and forth, back and forth. Jack's sleeve was fallen back to his elbow, exposing his scarred and tattooed forearm to James' fascinated gaze. The smooth glide of skin over muscle and bone was riveting, maddening and he wanted it. James moaned and his body convulsed against the restraints.

At that, Jack turned to look at him, following his intent gaze with interest. Slowly, Jack put the bottle aside and, pulling his sleeve yet further back, offered his arm to James' mouth. James convulsed again as his lips touched flesh and his tongue flickered out, tasted salt. Jack began to withdraw and James panicked. He  wanted! He lunged forward and bit down, snarling.


Sharp teeth closed on Jack's wrist, and the pleasure-pain of it was so intense, he nearly spent himself before he could pull away. He bit down hard on his bottom lip and squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of anything and everything but James' hot mouth and the absolute desperation that was written in every line of his body.

"Easy. . .easy. . ." The harsh sound of his voice took him by surprise -- he hadn't realized he was speaking aloud. He took another swig of rum, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve and the put the cork in the bottle.

The time for games had passed; he needed to have James now. He fumbled with his sweat-dampened shirt, his hands clumsy in his haste, finally yanking it over his head with an audible rip as one of the shoulder seams tore.

Standing, he toed off his boots and then tugged at his breeches until they too came off, one button pinging off the sideboard and skittering across the decking.

Oil. They needed the damn oil, which never seemed to be where they wanted it. Jack turned to the sideboard and hunted for the flask frantically, sweeping books and knick-knacks and empty bottles onto the decking.


When Jack pulled away from him, James began to struggle, heedless of the rules. He felt something give and looked around – the strip holding his right wrist had frayed against the chain and was worn nearly through. James glanced at Jack, but the pirate was oblivious – intent upon getting out of his clothes. James checked his left wrist. That bond was in better shape than the other but showing signs of wear. Frantically, he worked it up and down against the rough metal of the chain.

Jack, naked now, was ransacking the sideboard; his back to the bed. James redoubled his efforts, the noise Jack was making covering any sound of his activity.  The right wrist came free. Jack snatched up something with a satisfied cry. James gave a last frenzied jerk and the other strip parted.  He lurched to his feet just as Jack began to turn about.  With a growl, James lunged forward, striking Jack violently with his body and falling with him. They landed with a crash on Jack's prized Turkish carpet.

There was a brief struggle that ended with Jack, caught off guard, securely pinned on his back beneath the heavier James.  Shifting his weight to bring their cocks in to contact, James thrust hard, making Jack groan. At the same time, he gripped Jack's wrists, leaning his full weight upon them. He bared his teeth.

"My rules now," he rasped, noting with satisfaction the widening of Jack's eyes. James kissed him savagely. "Rule One: you'll get what you asked for. Savvy?"


A vicious bite to Jack's ear, then James continued in a low, dangerous voice, " Two: I don't ask, I take."

Things were not going as planned, not at all. But there was no need to panic, Jack told himself. James had taken control once before and nearly ridden Jack into the ground -- there was something to be said for that (barring the unfortunate timing of James' memories popping back into his head).

Jack licked a drop of sweat off James' jaw and twisted his hips lasciviously. "You wanna do all the work? Go right ahead, mate."

To Jack's surprise, James lifted up and spun Jack so that he was face down on the carpet. "Three: I don't 'Play nice'" He leaned down, brushed aside Jack's hair, and bit down hard on the nape of his neck, rubbing his cock against the cleft of Jack's arse and making his meaning all too clear.

Jack felt a thrill of apprehension, laced with no little lust. He hadn't been on the receiving end of this particular sort of wickedness in many a year - Captain Jack Sparrow did the fucking, thank you very much. But this rough treatment was intoxicating, and, to Jack's consternation, he found himself moaning and writhing up to meet the slippery heat of James' prick. Catching himself, he hooked an ankle around James' leg and attempted to break his hold.

James neatly thwarted Jack's attempt, pressing down harder and clasping Jack's wrists in a bruising grip. "Not a chance, Captain. You've baited me quite enough, and now you're going to get exactly what you so richly deserve." This last bit was punctuated by a sharp thrust that pressed James' cock right against Jack's entrance.

Both men froze. Hot breath tickled Jack's neck, and he could feel James' heart pounding against his back. Then James released Jack's hands, saying, "Don't move," in a grim, commanding voice. Jack heard the implied "or else" and resisted the urge to scramble away. In his current state, there was no telling what James might do.

James took up the oil flask from where it had tumbled from Jack's hands and splashed oil carelessly all over Jack and the rug. Rivulets of it poured between his buttocks, followed by long, deft fingers, rubbing insistently, and slowly opening him up. Jack's resistance was crumbling; he let out a choked groan when James' fingers - finally - slid inside him. Then the fingers curved and pressed and Jack swore fervently, barely registering James' sardonic laugh.


"Like that, do you, pirate?"  He twisted his wrist and chuckled as Jack cried out. The body beneath his was growing more pliant with each sighing breath.  James grinned. "It gets better," he said. "Wait for it."

He withdrew, chuckling again at Jack's whine of impatience, slicked his cock, and positioned himself; fingers digging into Jack's hips, skidding on sweat and oil.  As he entered – slow and smooth and inexorable – Jack groaned, and his hands scrabbled frantically against the carpet. James leaned in, covering and stilling those restless hands with his own. "Now," he rasped, voice strained and husky, "move for me."  He set his teeth in Jack's shoulder and pushed.

Jack pushed back, and for a moment they fumbled, but quickly found a rhythm. Long, slow, luxurious strokes. James could feel Jack opening to him – yielding, abandoned – and he groaned.

Head spinning, James thrust harder. Jack rose to meet him, breathless and gasping.


James made himself unclench his teeth from Jack's shoulder, and twisted one hand in his hair, pulling Jack's head back, forcing him to arch his spine and changing the angle of his thrusts. Jack gave a ragged, desperate cry and shuddered uncontrollably.

Yes, James thought, yes.  His fist tightened and he pressed his lips to Jack's sweaty ear. "Rule Four," he growled, "Beg for me."


There was no conscious thought, no canny decision to yield, only a dark, overwhelming need to submit. Jack babbled out a string of heartfelt pleas; "I need. . .by all that's holy. . .James. . .Please. . . James. . ."

Something in that incoherent gibbering must have been right, because James' hand closed around Jack's cock, slick and hot and tight. Jack howled, heedless of who might hear him. His body ricocheted between James' prick  filling him up and the hand stroking him hard and steady.  He was close. . .so close. . .

Then James was holding the base of Jack's cock tightly, his hand no longer moving in that enthralling rhythm. Jack whined and wriggled helplessly, but James held him still, whispering in Jack's ear again, seductive and threatening all at once. It took a moment for Jack to make sense of the words. "I may be yours, but you're every bit as much mine." He thrust deeply, then repeated, "Mine," with another punishing thrust. "Do we have an accord, Jack?"

"Yes, God, yes. . .Just don't stop. . ."

"Say it!"

"Yours. . .I swear it. . . Please. . ."

With a dizzying suddenness, everything sped up again, and coalesced into a swirling tumult of impressions -- slick skin and piercing pressure, rough hands, and James' voice, getting louder and less coherent. Their voices mingled in a profane chorus, and Jack could no longer tell who was commanding and who was pleading. Perhaps it was both of them, caught together in this net and unable to resist any longer.

And then Jack was coming, spurting into James' hand and crying out his name, and James was shuddering above him, saying, "Oh God, Jack. . ." and the stricken note in his voice gave Jack some obscure satisfaction, even as he heard the same quality in his own voice.

Afterwards, Jack was boneless and lethargic.  He lay under James' weight, thoroughly at peace with the world, as James lightly traced the pattern of bruises and bites that marked Jack's neck and shoulders.  Then he shifted off Jack, and threw a lazy arm over him, and they both drifted to sleep, too weary and sated to move from where they lay.


When James awoke, the swift, tropical dusk was falling. Jack was spooned against his chest, head resting on his arm, snoring softly.  James disentangled their legs and stretched carefully, muscles stiff from sleeping on the deck. He lifted his arm from where it lay across Jack's chest and hissed as his shoulders protested. He felt his face heat as the sweet ache reminded him of how, exactly, he had come to be so sore.

Jack stirred. "Mmmmm?" he said and yawned. James slid his arm gently from beneath Jack's head and sat up. Jack rolled onto his back and stretched like a cat.

James sat staring out the darkening stern windows, trying – and failing – to make sense of what had happened that afternoon. Something fundamental had shifted, he felt, but could not force his mind to examine the idea. Jack's hand, sleep-warm and rough-skinned, came to rest on his back and he sighed.  He turned to look down at Jack's face in the semi-darkness. For a while, they watched each other – faces identical in their expressions of slightly wary puzzlement.

After a time, Jack smiled, tentative. "Alright, love?" he asked.  James nodded and got to his feet. He reached down a hand to Jack. "Bed?" Jack asked. James nodded again, this time with a slight smile.


Jack ran his fingers down James' arm, frowning when they encountered the cotton still knotted about his wrist. He gave a James a light push in the direction of the bed, detouring himself to pick up the pen-knife from the desk.

James stretched out with a sigh and Jack climbed in to sit cross-legged next to him. Jack leaned down and kissed him lightly, then sat back and took one of James' wrists in his hand, palm up.  He slipped the blade of the knife between James' wrist and the tattered strip. James shivered at the touch of cool steel on his abraded skin. Jack looked up at that.

"Trust me?" he asked.

James' face lit with a broad, sweet smile that made Jack's heart turn over. "Yes," he said.

Jack freed first one wrist, then the other, and tossed the knife onto the sideboard as James drew him down. They settled easily, Jack tucked into James' shoulder, their legs entwined.

"Alright, Jack?"

"Never better, love."

They slept.


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