Preventing A Mutiny
folder
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
4,690
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Pirates of the Caribbean (All) › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
9
Views:
4,690
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
Characters and PotC belong to Disney. No profit, monetary or otherwise, gained from using them here.
The Beauty of the Beast
****
Sometimes, the mere sight of Jones’ tentacles would cause Norrington’s cock to swell in tingling anticipation. It worked wonders in the privacy of the Captain’s cabin, as the rewards Davy benevolently bestowed upon James always surpassed their previous encounters.
Unfortunately, this response had begun to occur no matter where they were, causing the Admiral some embarrassing moments in front of his men.
All was duly noted by Lord Beckett’s hatchet man, the scar-faced Mercer. His latest missive had been most explicit in details, including the orgasmic nightly activities that followed.
Erotic reports which were now liberally splattered with Beckett’s seed.
****
At first sight, the reports had appalled him beyond measure. That…creature... and an Admiral of the Fleet!?
Bile had rose in Beckett’s throat at the initial thought, but, as the lurid, extraordinary details began to emerge, disgust gave way to titillating curiosity, soon followed by an unabashed erotic fantasy.
Norrington had never been a willing lover, his revulsion barely concealed in the few times Beckett had been able to coerce cooperation out of him. Yet, according to Mercer, the Admiral showed no such inhibitions with the monster, in fact appeared to be thoroughly enjoying the experience.
Beckett sat at his desk with the latest missive, languidly stroking his cock, his tongue wetting his lips as he read. Mercer spared no details, allowing Beckett to fully immerse himself in the experience.
****
“Does the sight of me repulse you?” Davy whispered in James’ ear, his tentacled hand stroking the Admiral’s bare back.
Shuddering, sighing from the exquisite sensation of slithering slickness, he shook his head slowly. “No, not anymore.”
The creature let out a harsh breath, a spluttering of spittle wetting James’ ear. “Then you must pity me.”
James turned and gazed deeply into the blue eyes of the disfigured man in silence, drawing his fingers gently over a graceful tendril that strayed to touch his cheek. “No, not that either.”
“Then, why, James Norrington? Why do you stay here after we’ve finished our business? You are free to return to your quarters.”
“I choose to.” Norrington reached to cup the tentacled face with his hand. “I see not this,” he raised a finger, feeling a jolt of merriment at the feel and sight of a tentacle curling around it, “but the man that once was, the great sailor of the sea, the true legend. You, Davy Jones.”
“I have become a monster.” Jones tried to turn his face, uncoiling each bit of himself from James, but the Admiral stopped him with a firm grasp around one, left lingering on his shoulder as if regretting the loss of the contact.
“No, you are a man, Jones. As am I. And you’ve have suffered great loss, rejection, as have I.” He shook his head. “You say you‘re a heartless bastard.”
James silenced Davy’s attempt to interfere with a hand over his lips, raising his brow in requesting permission to continue uninterrupted. Gaining a tentacle wrapping around his wrist as Jones closed his eyes against the sudden rush of long-suppressed emotions, James considered permission granted.
He continued softly, “You’re not the monster. The monster’s aboard the Endeavor, and its name is Cutler Beckett.”
****
Sometimes, the mere sight of Jones’ tentacles would cause Norrington’s cock to swell in tingling anticipation. It worked wonders in the privacy of the Captain’s cabin, as the rewards Davy benevolently bestowed upon James always surpassed their previous encounters.
Unfortunately, this response had begun to occur no matter where they were, causing the Admiral some embarrassing moments in front of his men.
All was duly noted by Lord Beckett’s hatchet man, the scar-faced Mercer. His latest missive had been most explicit in details, including the orgasmic nightly activities that followed.
Erotic reports which were now liberally splattered with Beckett’s seed.
****
At first sight, the reports had appalled him beyond measure. That…creature... and an Admiral of the Fleet!?
Bile had rose in Beckett’s throat at the initial thought, but, as the lurid, extraordinary details began to emerge, disgust gave way to titillating curiosity, soon followed by an unabashed erotic fantasy.
Norrington had never been a willing lover, his revulsion barely concealed in the few times Beckett had been able to coerce cooperation out of him. Yet, according to Mercer, the Admiral showed no such inhibitions with the monster, in fact appeared to be thoroughly enjoying the experience.
Beckett sat at his desk with the latest missive, languidly stroking his cock, his tongue wetting his lips as he read. Mercer spared no details, allowing Beckett to fully immerse himself in the experience.
****
“Does the sight of me repulse you?” Davy whispered in James’ ear, his tentacled hand stroking the Admiral’s bare back.
Shuddering, sighing from the exquisite sensation of slithering slickness, he shook his head slowly. “No, not anymore.”
The creature let out a harsh breath, a spluttering of spittle wetting James’ ear. “Then you must pity me.”
James turned and gazed deeply into the blue eyes of the disfigured man in silence, drawing his fingers gently over a graceful tendril that strayed to touch his cheek. “No, not that either.”
“Then, why, James Norrington? Why do you stay here after we’ve finished our business? You are free to return to your quarters.”
“I choose to.” Norrington reached to cup the tentacled face with his hand. “I see not this,” he raised a finger, feeling a jolt of merriment at the feel and sight of a tentacle curling around it, “but the man that once was, the great sailor of the sea, the true legend. You, Davy Jones.”
“I have become a monster.” Jones tried to turn his face, uncoiling each bit of himself from James, but the Admiral stopped him with a firm grasp around one, left lingering on his shoulder as if regretting the loss of the contact.
“No, you are a man, Jones. As am I. And you’ve have suffered great loss, rejection, as have I.” He shook his head. “You say you‘re a heartless bastard.”
James silenced Davy’s attempt to interfere with a hand over his lips, raising his brow in requesting permission to continue uninterrupted. Gaining a tentacle wrapping around his wrist as Jones closed his eyes against the sudden rush of long-suppressed emotions, James considered permission granted.
He continued softly, “You’re not the monster. The monster’s aboard the Endeavor, and its name is Cutler Beckett.”
****