Jjail

It's the second day when injuries really start to hurt, swelling muscles
stiffening further, blood-bruising spreading beneath the skin. Or in James's
case it was the second night. All the military training and tight-arse
stoicism in the world couldn't keep him silent with any and every motion he
made. He finally resettled in the corner, coiled carefully around himself,
forearms on knees and forehead on arms, staying there motionless.
Not-quite-quiet. Breathing shallowly.


Jack had been more or less trying to sleep (mostly less), but after a while,
yet again, the sound of nearby suffering got to be too much to ignore. Not that
he wanted to ignore it. Really, the only reason he even made the effort was
because he suspected the man's discomfort with him might nearly match
what injuries were putting him through.

"All you need do is ask, mate," he said to the darkness,
reacquainting himself with the sight of the black ceiling, dwelling absently on
the clamor of his mostly empty stomach.

The pause was much shorter than he'd expected -- only a few breaths before that
voice, strained yet still audile gold, spoke up awkwardly: "I
would...greatly appreciate your assistance again."

Jack rolled up and over to knees. Shuffled to the corner without bothering to
stand, once again putting hands to that tense back to prod for access. This
time the contact caused an immediate, violent flinch.


"Gotten a tad sorer, I see."

"A tad," James said in a painful, wry voice, not raising his head.
"Bloody hell, I'd like to have a few hours with those rotters when I'm not
wearing irons..."

Jack settled in behind him, sliding hands lightly along shoulders, more firmly
up his neck for another nice, distracting head-skritch. "Got a bit of a
vengeful streak, have you?"

"Newly acquired." James's body seemed to remember its lesson from
last night; very quickly he found the man easing against him, the tension
lingering in muscles but leaving his spine.


"I'd think that'd be a liability in your line of work."

"My line of...?" A snort. "Of course, yes, we emotionless
assassins."

Fingers ran slowly into hair, forward towards his face, in a long stroke that
actually managed to draw an appreciative groan. "Breathe deep."

"It hurts."


"Don't care. Trust me. Slow and deep."

He made the effort. It sounded shaky, a little hitching, but it began to smooth
as the minutes crawled by. Jack moved down to shoulders, probing lightly to
find which spots needed avoiding. Worked fingers between those areas, coaxing
the tightness out, bit by bit.

James was silent for a while. Initially Jack assumed it was the pain, or maybe
the gradual slackening of it, that had the man's attention. Then he spoke up
quietly and proved otherwise. "Does it mean anything that no one came to
confirm I'll not be hanged in the morning?"

"I honestly couldn't tell you. There's no set procedure for these things
that I'm aware of."

James nodded a little. Jerked forward with a sharp explosion of breath when
Jack's hands, traveling down his spine, hit a spot to the left side of the
small of his back. "Ahh--gently, gently there, please..."


On a suspicion, Jack tugged his shirt free of breeches and pulled it up enough
to see. Even the dismal lighting couldn't totally obscure the great blotch of
vaguely foot-shaped shadowy bruise spreading generously from spine to flank.
Jack's face screwed up in unwanted empathy as he grazed his palm over the
expanse of the mark, feeling smooth skin and the radiating warmth of injury.
"What'd they do, stomp on you?"

A moment. "I'd really rather not discuss it."

Well, no. Helplessness was never particularly enjoyable to revisit. "You
must've made them angry."

"So it would seem."

He quirked lips approvingly at the dry tone of that. Let the shirt fall and
returned to rubbing higher on his back, fingertips digging, prodding the ache
out. "Tell you, mate, you're good at a lotta things -- always thought you
were a damn fine commodore, able swordsman, smart hand at the helm...and now I
know you're quite the excellent kisser -- but you do make one lousy

prisoner."

"I can think of worse failings for a man to have," James countered
stiffly.

"Not in my line of work."

He could all but hear the man biting back his response to that. It made
him chuckle softly, slightly wickedly, and almost without thinking about it he
brought one of his straddling legs in oh-so-innocently to press closer to
James's hip and thigh. Rolled thumbs beneath shoulderblades, firm and steady.


A few breaths later, with a rather endearing hesitance--
"'Excellent'?"

Jack's lip drew up towards a lewd half-smile. "Mm-hmm." He was
very pleased to note no renewal of tautness in the body he was working on.

Seconds passed. James cleared his throat. "I suspect you're perfectly well
aware that you're rather...adept in that area yourself." A hand lifted in
the dark. James touched his lower lip, words taking on that familiar sardonic
tinge. "Even if you do bite."


Jack followed shoulderblades over to the curve of ribs. Briefly caught his own
lip between his teeth, smiling, eyes slitted. "I could kiss it and make it
better, if you like."

More seconds tripped by. His hands moved in what he no longer pretended were
anything other than exploratory caresses, slipping around James's torso,
gliding against the lay of ribs.

"If..." James paused. Swallowed audibly. "If your plan
works..."

"Brilliant plan, if you please."


"If your brilliant plan works, how..." Another pause, then he
firmed his tone and pushed on. "How far might this act have to go before
there's opportunity for escape?"

"You mean what unspeakable acts of depravity would she be expecting us to
perform for her entertainment?"

"Precisely that, yes."

"Hard to say. She's a very naughty girl." He leaned in enough
to let the breath of his words heat the sensitive skin behind an ear.

"Why? How far are you wanting to go?"

James was motionless against him. "I believe what you meant to ask was,
how far am I willing to go."

A low chuckle. He treated himself to a nuzzle of that ear, rather enjoying the
new tremor it caused through the man's body. "Whatever you need to tell
yourself, mate." Fingers spread out over pectorals, feeling the scratch of
hair beneath his shirt, the hard nubs of peaked nipples. "I was in on that
kiss, same as you."


"Yes, I...seem to remember noticing that."

His voice dropped lower, huskier. Thumbs stroked tiny arcs across his chest.
"I noticed you noticing."

James's throat jumped again. Words came desperately level. "I suppose in
the interest of...verisimilitude...it would be a worthwhile exercise to, ah. To
practice."

"To practice," Jack murmured delightedly. "Ooh, the
things you say..."


Even in this light, he could see the flush that stole across the fair skin.
"Well, if we're to make this convincing, it only makes sense."

Jack rubbed his chest slowly against James's back. Scooted up, body curving in
closer, hands crawling down, down. "Good sense," he agreed.
"Excellent sense."

James winced when he reached his short ribs, the motion coincidentally causing
him to push back. Hard to say for certain, but Jack suspected the accompanying
gasp had little if anything to do with pain. His own abruptly indrawn breath
certainly didn't.


A hand found one of Jack's thighs. The other. Glided up to knees and halfway
back, gripping. It was, he realized suddenly, the first time the commodore had
voluntarily touched him since a long ago day when he'd turned a handshake into
a trap.

"So tell me," Jack said nonchalantly, fingers setting to work on the
buttons of his breeches, "am I to be the first man to get his hands on
you?"

"I fail to see how that even begins to be your business."

"Heh." His tongue slipped out. Flicked the back of James's ear, to a
gratifying, full-body shiver. "You're going to have to learn to play-act a
bit better if you think to show Alondra that we're so..." He got the
breeches open. "...very..." Lips grazing that ear. "...right for
each other." James's fingers clamped down quite hard, his breathing
quickening further. Jack grinned slowly as roving hands found that part

of the man, at least, was very much into the spirit of the role. "Well
now. Is all this for me?"

Suddenly those hands slipped beneath his thighs and tugged, pulling him firmly,
very firmly into full and revealing contact. "I seem to have earned
a response as well," James noted pointedly, not to be outdone.

"It's hardly the first time you've had me hard," Jack muttered
against his neck, tongue taking a little taste.


James sucked in a breath through his teeth as Jack trailed up his shaft, just
the outside edge of a forefinger touching, grazing. "What...what did you
say...?"

"What with us bein' matelots and all, that is."

"I didn't hear--"

"Shh," Jack said, hand closing, stroking.

James quivered against him, jerking in his grip. Breathed unsteadily. Jack
tightened on the upsweep. Feathered fingers out on the down. Wriggled closer
against the temptation of the commodore's backside. Ohhh, for just a little

friction now...

In his hand was soft skin, hot, veined and hard and oh-so-needing. Quite a fine
piece, really. One that made him lick his lips in thought of the uses it might
be put to, perhaps in the sanctity of Alondra's bed. Their bed? After their wedding.

Well, if he had to get married, at least he might get a nice consolation
prize.

"Jesus," James choked out, too loudly.


Jack clamped a hand over his mouth before another word could follow. Hissed
into his ear-- "Guards, man." Not slowing his pumping hand, he
held him mute, enjoying his quivering on more than one level.

James breathed raggedly through his nose. Fortunate that they'd left that in
such good shape when they worked him over. His hands were squeezing, kneading
at Jack's legs and his hips were trying to thrust and there were noises,
muffled noises against Jack's covering palm.

Watching his moving hand, the blood-suffused flesh within his grasp, Jack
rubbed in just a little -- not enough, nowhere near enough -- and nosed the
commodore's neck by that speeding pulse. Felt James curve towards him, pressing
into his mouth, and nipped reflexively. James pushed harder against him,
shuddering.

"I knew you'd warm up to me," Jack whispered smugly.


James rocked his head back all the way to rest on Jack's shoulder, his neck
arching in a bow that was lovely to see, eyes squeezed tight, face twisted in
what was very probably as much pain as pleasure.

Jack groaned, raw and low, the sight and the feel of the squirming man in his
lap far, far too stimulating. He hoped James gave half as good as he got,
because he got just -- beautifully.

Those hands on his thighs clenched tightly enough to make him hiss and James
cried out against his hand, coming in spasms, Jack pressing kisses along his
stubbly throat and saying, "shh, now, shhh," even though there was
really not much point.


James trembled into stillness, fingers loosening their death-grip. Made no
effort right away to pick his head up off Jack's shoulder, which gave the
pirate all the excuse he needed to suck and lick and sample salt-wet flesh, his
hand slipping from James's organ to broadly caress up beneath his shirt. The other
hand slid from covering his lips, letting him gasp for air without obstruction,
running down and up his arm to fully appreciate the lingering shivers in the
muscles there.

"Now then," he said, quietly chastising, richly amused, "aren't
you glad you didn't hang me?"

Voiceless laughter shook the man, his face tightening as his body protested all
the movement. Quite an interesting display -- hilarity and hurt painted over
injury and a (quite stunningly sweet) smile. Jack found a perverse desire to
tickle him, try to make him writhe more, just to watch that uncommon mingling
play out again and again.

But of course there were other, somewhat more pressing perverse desires
to consider at the moment...


Jack's fingers teased through the dusting of hair hidden beneath the shirt.
James's chest still rose and fell rapidly and Jack could feel the thud-thudding
of his racing heart under that wandering palm. He breathed up along the curved
neck. Bit down on the hard line of jaw, lightly, tongue tapping at the
hair-scratchy skin trapped between his teeth.

James rolled his face away. Before Jack could do more than start to wonder if
there was a problem, his right hand came up, catching behind Jack's head and
pulling him in as James turned back, pausing a fingerwidth from his lips.
"No biting," he admonished, good eye as narrowed as the swollen one.

Jack bared teeth. "No promises." He reached for that mouth, but the
hand closed on his hair, arresting his motion.

"Let me rephrase," James said calmly. "No. Biting."


Eyeroll. "Right, fine, leggo."

"Promise."

"I promise..." The grip loosened. "...on my honor as a
scallywag..." Tightened brutally. "...that if you will please

be kind enough to stop pulling my hair out..." Slight relaxing. Jack
smiled lopsidedly and closed the distance to murmur right against a swollen
lip, "I'll be good." Glide-kiss. "I'll be very
good."

James opened for him, albeit hesitantly. Willing enough, clearly, but still not
quite sure about this kissing business. True to his word, Jack was
careful of that cut, laving it gently with his tongue, and the hand against his
scalp slowly eased its clench in reward. He delved deeper. Shifted hips closer
and soughed aching appreciation into James's mouth.


James pulled back, flushed, and his eyes searched Jack's once they opened.
There was an odd solemnity in the night-darkened gaze. "What do you want,
Jack?"

It took Jack a moment to gather thoughts, what with his body issuing its
insistent proclamations and his blood not overly interested in wetting his
brain just now. Intelligently he asked, "Eh?"

"Reciprocation," James said with marked composure. "What do you
want?"

Involuntarily, Jack's eyes flickered down a smidge to linger on those reddened
lips. He licked his own. Caught a breath against the instant images that
flooded his mind.


He rocked forward, erection demanding notice against one nicely firm buttock.
Pressed lips to James's again, forcibly gentle. Drew back a fraction.
"Kiss it," he breathed, the softest of growls. Another featherlight
caress. Underneath the shirt, his thumb dragged across a hard nipple.
"Make it better."

A bit of a sigh as James drew back once more. "I had a hunch." He let
go Jack's hair. Nudged legs away from his flanks. "You'll have to
move."

Jack sat there a moment, blinking startlement at the equanimity of the
response. "You mean you'll really--"


"I've faced half-decayed pirates from hell," James said mildly.
"Surely this can't be much worse."

"... You might've just erased all your flattery points there,
mate..."

James looked over his shoulder, a glint of eye through well-tousled dark hair.
"How much are you enjoying the thought of having a senior naval officer go
down on you?"

A great fucking deal. "'s not really about that." Entirely.


"Oh no?"

Jack's right eyebrow twitched up. He pointed exaggeratedly downward in
indication. "It's about this." Pointed again, this time in a
circuitous gesture that more or less found its way to signifying the open
crotch of James's breeches. "Just as it was about that only moments
ago, in case you've conveniently forgotten."

A hint of a headshake, the meaning indecipherable. James pushed at his leg
again. "Move around."


Jack delayed a moment. "This continues to be in the interest of practice,
aye?"

James refastened his breeches, stiff and slow. "For all I know, I still
have a dawn appointment with the gallows. I've no intention of dying in your
debt."

That wasn't exactly the eager participation Jack had been looking for. He pulled
legs in. Twisted about until he was more or less beside the other, facing him,
not finding much of a smile or a grin or a leer even though the thought of that
mouth doing him still made his blood spark all along his veins and his
cock throb in anticipation.


But his own hands were unhurried as he worked the buttons to free his erection.
"Maybe you're missin' the point of this play-acting, mate..."

James took a breath. Shifted to knees, grimacing, then to hands and knees with
an unsteady exhalation, braced between Jack's sprawled legs. "Maybe,"
he ground out, teeth tight-clenched.

Jack eyed him dubiously. "D'you know what you're doing?"


"How difficult can it be?"

Jack's hands flew protectively to cover the goods. "Now hold up just a
second." Concern bled into his voice. "I'm really gonna need to hear
your qualifications."

"Qualifications," James echoed flatly.

A firm nod. "Aye, qualifications. Experience."


The look that earned him was, no mistaking it, utterly offended. "I am a
commodore of the Royal Navy. I've been falsely accused, unjustly imprisoned,
subjected to flagitious abuses--"

"'Flagitious'?"

"Look it up," James said tersely. "As I was saying, I find
myself in an unforgivably wrong situation, and now here I am, on my
knees in a filthy cell -- in considerable pain, no less -- fully
prepared to fulfill some twisted little fantasy you've no doubt been harboring
for longer than I'd care to know..." Jack showed teeth at that one,
confirming with a silent laugh. James looked upward exasperatedly as if seeking
patience from above. "And you want my qualifications."


Jack considered. "Too much to ask?"

A tight smile with the flavor of a humorless smirk. "You might say."

"Ehm." Jack caught a bit of cheek between his teeth, frowning
worriedly. "You'll at least promise--"

"Not to bite?"


His dismay at the very mention must have shown on his face. James cracked an
ever-so-slightly wider smile, not the least bit reassuring. Sank back to sit on
his heels and curved his hand in a beckoning motion. "Come here."

Holding his breeches up one-handedly, Jack rose to his knees. Shuffled
cautiously nearer.

James sat there a moment, regarding his face with an inscrutable expression,
motionless but for those evaluating eyes. Tilted his head thoughtfully.
"Hm."

Jack's brow furrowed in annoyed perplexity. "What?"

"You're almost pretty."


A blink. Another. "Ah...huh."

"When you're not scowling or frowning or sneering, that is." He
squinted a little. "Perhaps it's the light."

Jack scowled. Added a sneer for good measure. "Don't be mistaking me for a
lass, James."

Arching an eyebrow, James dropped his gaze to the hand currently holding fabric
closed over the fully evident hard-on. "Unlikely."


Jack started to ask if he was still amenable to this. Hesitated, wondering if
the question would invite refusal. Pursed and twisted lips consideringly,
studying the battered face, the distracted eyes, his mind bringing up unbidden
the awareness of those numerous aches throughout the man's body.

He sighed. "Contrary to what you may believe, mate, being a pirate doesn't
necessarily mean a man enjoys unwilling company. If this is too much for
you..." Just a bloody hero these days, wasn't he? "...I'll not
hold you to it."

"No?"


A grimace like a wince across his face as he said, "No." Feeling
quite disgustingly honorable and truly despising the sensation.

Eyes lifted. Amusement played about that crooked smile. "I'm not
unwilling; I'm sore, and trying to decide how best to go about this.
Though that's..." A glint of teeth. "...very gentlemanly of
you, Jack."


Jack's mood lifted immediately. Heroism had its rewards, didn't it?

James made that same beckoning motion. Jack leaned in obediently, fingers
tightening in the cloth over his erection, not quite kneading as James's lips
parted against his, an arm slipping around his waist to pull him nearer, the
other hand...

...the other...hand...

Jack released his grip on the breeches. Moaned gratefully into the kiss at the
sensation of fingers exploring his shaft, the touch careful but not faltering.
James's hand was rough-skinned from sword-work, maybe from more than that. Did
he ever sail for himself? Handle the rigging, sweat in the sun, do the work his
rank said he didn't have to...?

Fingers closed 'round him. Drew along his length, slow and firm, and his knees
weakened. He thrust his tongue into warm wetness, licking James's own.

Another easy pull. Another. Stoking his urgency, learning his response, feeling
him out. The grip shifted, working foreskin back. A finger slid over his slit,
making his pelvis buck eagerly, dragging a hungry little noise from deep in his
throat. He held James's mauled face as carefully as he could remember to and
kissed him with an enthusiasm just shy of furious. And either the commodore had
decided to try play-acting after all or he'd discovered a little more interest
within himself, because he was no idle participant this time; lips were a
constant caress, and his tongue moved against Jack's in a slower, more
deliberate rhythm that set a maddening counterpoint to his stroking hand.


The other hand moved to Jack's hip and squeezed for attention, James pulling
back from his lips at the same time. Panting, blinking, Jack tried to focus on
something other than the surge after surge after surge
shooting through him from his groin. "Whazzuh...?"

"Stand up."


The jolt that rocked him made him sway, and he clutched at a shoulder for
balance.

Fingers pinched his waist. James released his erection. "Up, Jack."

In a scramble, Jack stood, catching at his breeches to keep them from falling
to bind his ankles. James gripped his hip again and pulled him in, rising up on
knees, hand returning to his tumid organ, holding, fondling, guiding...

Jack staggered, nearly overcome by the sight as well as the sensation of the
tongue that curved out to drag exploratively along the underside of his shaft.
Edging forward, James nudged him rearward until jagged stone pressed into his
back. Jack leaned to let the wall hold him up, eyes rapt on the pale,
bruise-blotched face, a hand going to push James's hair back to better reveal
what was happening.

James glanced up at his touch. Met his eyes for a heartbeat without expression,
then returned his gaze to the task at hand without a word.

Air stuttered into Jack's lungs when that tongue found him again. Silken wet
stroking, firm flick against the peeking crown of his cock. A pause.
Considering taste? He threaded fingers into that untidy hair. Gripped a jutting
stone of the wall with his left hand, fingernails scraping.


James looked up again suddenly. "Where do we live?"

Jack stared dumbly.

"If we're matelots, where do we live?"

"If...we..." He closed his eyes and took a breath. "You ask this
now?"


"It just occurred to me. We should have our story clear."

Jack ground teeth. Gripped the rock. "On the Pearl."

"On the Pearl?"

"Yes, now would you--"


"So I'm a pirate, then."

"A pirate, a grand fine pirate, the terror of the Spanish Main, now won't
you just--"

"But," James said, and Jack heard a little too much amusement purring
beneath the words, "if we're both pirates on the Pearl and you're
the captain, what does that make me?"


Jack's eyes opened on a blazing glare. "A teasing bastard,
evidently."

Another of those smirky, rather-too-superior smiles. As if in afterthought,
James stroked him again, firmly, and Jack slumped against the wall with an
oath. James leaned in. Breathed hot, moist breath over his cockhead and then--

Paused again. "I could be the captain of a consort ship," he
mused. "Or even a pirate commodore, actually, couldn't I?"

Jack's fingers tightened in his hair in sheer frustration, though he had better
sense than to try to use that grip, particularly with someone who would,
hopefully, maybe imminently be nursing on his cock, with teeth
perilously present and no known aversion to using them. But he was so. Very.
Hard, and needed that mouth so. Very. Badly, and James was just...just so
close to doing it...


Trembling a bit, head to toe, he took a short breath and said, "Please,"
gazing down with eyes as desperately imploring as he could make them.

James looked at him sharply. Seemed taken unawares by the plea, then
momentarily caught up in his expression, something akin to bemused wonder
chasing the superciliousness from his injury-mottled face.

Then a quick flash of contrition. "I'm sorry," he said quietly.
"That was unfair." And he took Jack into his mouth without further
delay.


Jack's head dropped back to thud against the wall and his mouth opened on a
hungry moan and he was very glad of the stone behind him because Commodore
James Norrington was sucking his cock and it really just wasn't the
sort of thing a man could stand unassisted for. The hand on his hip held him
steady as that scorching, engulfing mouth worked partway down his length,
tongue flexing and rolling in agonizingly wonderful ways, and James had been on
him for all of three seconds and already his breathing came in shuddery
gasps.

His fingers shifted on the wall. Encountered a larger, more jagged stone and
clutched it tightly. He found his right hand moving over James's head,
stroking, petting with a tenderness that contrasted sharply with the clawing of
his left.

The sounds of moist movement and his own uneven respiration reverberated
through his blood. He lifted from the wall and blinked dazedly at the head
swaying on his organ, the abused, aristocratic face, cheeks indented with
suction, eyes closed almost peacefully and feathery eyelashes curving against
skin. As he watched, James slid his right hand to the wall by Jack's thigh,
bracing himself. Released Jack's hip and shifted that hand, too, for support
against cold stone, freeing the pirate to move as he would.


An unexpected gift. He used it carefully, thrusting slowly into that welcoming
mouth, drawing back before he went too deep, entranced by the permission as
much as the act. James's tongue curved to his shaft as he sank in; probed the
head when he pulled back, teasing under foreskin, taking advantage of his easy
pace to stimulate him thoroughly.

Jack wanted to melt. Thought he just might. Whether in the spirit of the role
or for some other unknowable reason, James was devoting far more consideration
and care to this than he could've expected. Suddenly he was wondering, worrying
over the pain of that split lip, concerned for the soreness of the man's jaw.
But then there was that expression of calm, nearly...pleasance...as Jack
pistoned a lento tempo in and out, god, in and out and in...

"You do know what you're doing," he breathed softly, unsteadily, hand
gliding over hair.

Lids fluttered. Eyes gleamed at him, and something was said in that look that
he almost made sense of, almost could read...


James closed his eyes and bobbed in to meet him on his next thrust, taking him
deeper, faster, and Jack bit his lip hard to restrain an outcry. He was
aware suddenly of the tremors in those arms flanking him, the discomfort that
holding this position had to be causing.

Enough savoring. He let go of the rock and caught James's head in both hands,
careful of bumps and lumps and knots he'd already become acquainted with,
giving in to his body's urging to go faster. The weighty fall of charmed hair
swung sweepingly, medallion offering its musical contribution to the sounds of
shallow panting and restrained groans and the saliva-slicked slide of his shaft
between tight lips. James's tongue lashed and stroked, but otherwise he let
Jack run the show, moving his head as guided by increasingly controlling hands,
his shut eyes now tense with some response Jack couldn't name.

Sweat blurred his vision. Pressure coiled in his loins. He blinked 'til he
could see clearly, then touched a hand to James's cheek. The man looked up --
met his eyes just as he sank in deeply, nudging the back of his throat, and
Jack lost it. Growled behind his teeth as two, three, four frenzied thrusts
crested him, broke him, and then he was pulsing far back in James's mouth and
gripping his head hard and shivering deliciously as his body gave itself over.

Quaking throughout, it took him a moment to notice the hands on his hips,
pushing as James pulled back. He released him immediately, softening organ
slipping free. James coughed a few times. Pressed the back of a hand to his
lips and came away with a smear of red.

"All right?" Jack asked raggedly, relying again on the stability of
the wall while he caught his breath.


James thumbed his lower lip. Sucked it gingerly into his mouth, then let it go
and gave him a twisted quirk of a wry smile. "This won't have the
opportunity to heal until I'm quit of you, it seems."

"But you're all right?"

Those lines of faint puzzlement creased his brow as he propped a hand in the
dirt, cautiously shifting, bringing legs around to sit. "I'm fine,
Jack."

Jack caught his breeches up and fastened them absently, traces of euphoria
still dancing through his veins. "You've done this before."

"Have I?"


"You're good."

An appeal to the pride, apparently, was just the thing once again; James smiled
with a trace of warmth. "It's been a while." He worked his jaw around
and winced as an angle aggravated that one side. "A long while."

"Youthful indiscretions, eh?"

"Something like that." Eyebrows arched. "I trust you're
satisfied?"


A broad, bright grin. He rolled his shoulders to the wall until he could sag
languorously against it, both hands going to lightly grip protruding stone
ridges for support.

That smile curved more. Truly, it was an unforeseeably darling thing, revealing
a boyish sort of charm he doubted the man let out much. "Sordid little
fantasy achieved then?"

"One of 'em." A cheerfully wicked leer. "If we pretend you were
shackled to the wall when I took care of you before, that's two."

James sent a look heavenward again. "I did not need to hear
that." He shifted again, gradually stretching out. Sighed lengthily.

"Well, Jack, it's been...informative."

Braced on the wall, grin lingering, Jack regarded him. Several long breaths
passed.

"Jack." Without looking up. "You're staring again."

"That I am."

"Why are you staring again?"


He pushed off the stones. Stalked softly. "It's my considered opinion that
we need more practice."

James lifted his head. Awkwardly propped up on elbows, watching his approach
with an openly dubious expression. "Is that so."

"Oh, aye." He folded smoothly down to a knee, the other, straddling
the commodore's outstretched legs. Contentedly, he noted the immediate
acceleration of breathing, the probably unconscious licking of lips. "I've
not yet even had a proper taste of you."

James's mouth formed a lopsided little 'o' of surprise. "You...think that
could matter?"


A serious nod. "This verisiwhatitude thing is all about details,
really." Fingers skittered up tense thighs -- danced across the renewing
hardness beneath buttons. "Ah, I see you're in agreement."

"I'm not sure I can be held accountable for that at this point."

Jack snorted. "We should at least take care of this before sleep, wouldn't
you say? I did, after all, promise to be very good to you."


"You..." A grunt as the first button was teased open. "You don't
have to..."

Jack bent. Used fingers, lips and teeth to nudge the second button free.
"I want to," he murmured against swelling heat. "Just go with
it, mate. I don't do this for many men."

"Then why--"


"Let's call it another of my sordid fantasies."

"Am I chained in this one?"

Jack pulled clothing aside. Nuzzled, inhaling his unmistakably masculine scent,
mustache tickling over that so-sensitive flesh. "D'you wanna be?"

No answer, and when he glanced up he saw James's head tipped back, his propped
arms trembling, his chest rising and falling faster by the heartbeat.

Smiling, Jack bent back to his work.

***