A Pleasant Holliday?

A Pleasant Holiday – by Hellborne
Pirates of the Caribbean – Slash: Norrington/Jack, Will/Norrington/Jack, Will/Jack, Elizabeth/Anamaria (implied).
NC-17

Copyright: Characters, not mine, see the mouse. Story, mine, but I make no money. He does, but not on this.

Typing convention: / and * are used for thoughts. * is used for COMMODORE Norrington exclusively, and / is used for the softer James Norrington and for everyone else. Don’t ask…just read and you’ll understand.

Beta: Now beta’d by my most perfect and wonderful Pendragginink! Hail to thee, oh modest and humble goddess of betadom!

Summary: Commodore Norrington is on holiday, and finds that Jack Sparrow has gotten himself in trouble again. Torture, Violence, Lemon, Slash, Angst.

NOTE: I'm a Review Whore and a Fire Eater, so bring on the reviews and flames! I have a pet muse and a pet demon, so if you don’t review I’ll sick my demon on you…

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Chapter 8 – Green Eyes and Poetry

Captain Gillette walked into the parlor, saw Jack and started. “Captain Sparrow, congratulations on your recovery. I was not aware that you had gotten this far along.”

Jack grinned. “I’m a very quick heal. Can’t keep a good pirate down, eh?”

Gillette smiled sardonically.

Will closed the door. “Have a seat, Captain. What brings you here to see us?”

Gillette remained standing. “You, actually, Mr. Turner.” He looked at Jack. “I was under the impression that Captain Sparrow was bedridden. Could we take a walk?”

Will looked over to the side at Jack, who shrugged. “Yes, of course.” He turned to Jack and said, “I should be back in a few minutes. Don’t move till I get back.” He and Gillette walked out.

Once in the courtyard, Gillette stopped Will. “Mr. Turner, how long do you think it will be before you are able to take Captain Sparrow back to his ship?”

Will thought for a moment. “I don’t know, actually. He’s not as strong as he made out just now. This was his first walk since the incident. Why?”

Gillette hesitated. “Mr. Turner, please allow me to speak to you in confidence. That no word of this goes any further?”

“Of course. You have my word.”

Gillette thought about it for a moment and nodded. “Thank you. Mr. Turner, have you noticed the Commodore acting ‘oddly’ since your arrival?”

“Well, yes, actually. But I think it has to do with the fact that he does not have the use of his bed, and has been sleeping on the floor, when he sleeps at all. He has kept vigil over Jack for over two months, captain. That will make anyone act ‘oddly.’”

“Yes, but that is not of which I speak.” Gillette fought for words, then seemed to give it up as a bad try. He blushed slightly. “If I may be bold, Mr. Turner, previous to the two months that you are speaking of, the Commodore and I were…’close.’ Since he brought Captain Sparrow back with him from holiday, he has barely said a word to me that was not an order. I have seen him holding Sparrow’s hand, caressing his face, and once he kissed him on the forehead as he slept. Please tell me, Mr. Turner, have I lost the Commodore’s affections completely to that pirate?” He blushed completely, his head down trying to block his nerves rushing to his head.

Will smiled. “Captain Gillette, Captain Sparrow is a married man. No one could possibly get between him and his Lady, the Black Pearl, in his heart. Although many have tried, all have failed, man and woman alike. Once he is healed enough to return to his Lady love, we will be gone and all will be as it was. The Commodore knows that. You have no fears of losing your Commodore to a pirate. Especially THAT pirate.”

Gillette seemed to calm down, though he was still embarrassed. “Thank you, Mr. Turner. I have been so worried for these many weeks. I mean…I want Commodore Norrington to be happy…and I would keep his confidence utterly…” His voice faltered.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be gone in no time. And I must get back to Jack. He’ll probably be trying to walk again, and he’s not really ready.” Will left, walking quickly to Norrington’s quarters, opening the door without knocking.

Inside, he found Jack standing at a bookcase, looking through the titles. “He sure has peculiar books for a Commodore.” He pulled one out. “Selected Poems, by John Wilmot. Interesting little book, this. Too spicy for you, mate, but I wish I had it in me own collection.” He replaced it and pulled out another. “Three Histories, by Aphra Behn.” He put that one back, and reached for another. “Hmm…this one is handwritten. Could it be?” He thumbed through the book. “Yes…yes…It looks, my dearest William, like our dear Commodore Norrington fancies himself a poet.” He walked slowly back to the couch and sat down a little hard.

Will’s eyebrows raised.

Jack looked at him. “Oh yes. What did that whelp Gillette want, anyways?”

Will smiled, sympathizing with the poor Captain. “He’s afraid that you’re stealing Norrington from him, and wanted to know if I knew anything about it.”

“And you said?”

“I told him that we’d be leaving as soon as you were able, and that he’d have his Commodore back at that time.”

“So you lied to him, eh?” Jack looked thoughtful.

Will looked at him, trying to fathom his look. “I didn’t think so. You sent me to the Pearl for the money to pay him back for what he did for you. I’d thought that meant that we were leaving soon. What are you planning?”

“Oh, nothin’, lad. Nothin’.” Jack shook his head and opened the book of poetry.

At two o’clock, there was a knock at the door. Jack looked up from his reading, and Will answered it, and brought in the lunch tray after a brief conversation with the man who brought it.

“Looks like Norrington will be late this evening. The Lieutenant said he may be here by nine o’clock or it could be later.”

“Wonder what ‘e’s up to, eh? Just like him to plan a nice little surprise for us when we leave, followed closely by a right fine hangin’.”

“Jack, he saved your life. He didn’t have to, but he did. In fact, you’ve been a great inconvenience to him and to this fort for over two months. Had he wanted to kill you, he’d have left you to die.”

“Yer right.” He smiled at Will. “Any man who can write poetry like THIS can’t be all bad, love.”

Will looked at him, confused. “Poetry like WHAT? Do you mean that it’s not military or naval in nature?”

“No, lad. I’d compare it closer to Wilmot’s works, actually. Very stimulatin’. Come over ‘ere and we’ll discuss it.”

“Lunch, Jack.”

“Exactly! Bring it over and put it on the table. We’ll eat while we read.”

Will reflected that, knowing Jack, it wouldn’t be the food that he’d be dining on. He did as he was bid, then sat next to Jack on the couch, waiting for Jack to confirm his thoughts.

Jack handed Will the book. “Start at the beginning and read it to me. I’m right tired of holdin’ it up.”

Will began reading the poetry to Jack, who was soon undoing Will’s breeches as he “listened.” Will let him, as the poetry WAS rather arousing. They were poems of the heart, that was for sure, but also of a lower region as well. Will wondered if the Commodore wrote these for his own reading pleasure, or if they were written TO someone.

Jack finally managed to loosen Will’s breeches, and started on his shirt. He managed to get it off of his arms, but dropped it short of clearing Will’s head.

Will chuckled. “Jack, I can’t read with my shirt over my face.”

“Then take it off, love. I’m still a little weak, and this is the most exercise I’ve gotten since I’ve woken up.”

Will removed his shirt, then went on reading to Jack. /James DOES write some very stimulating poetry./ He could feel his nipples crinkle in response to what he felt while reading and to the air that they were now subjected to. As he read, he noticed that the “air” around his right nipple was getting warmer and breezier. He looked down just in time to see Jack bring his tongue out to lick the tip of it. He smiled, feeling his nipple get rock hard to the touch. It got more and more difficult to read.

Jack blew on the newly wet nipple, then kissed it, letting his tongue brush over the very tip of it. Will seemed to be repeating lines of poetry, and little mewling sounds were added to the words as Jack reached over to the other nipple with his hand and drew his fingernail around the light pink areola while he tasted the other.

Will moaned, and tried to put the book down. Jack looked up at him from the nub he was kissing. “Read to me,” he breathed. Will picked up the book again, and kept reading, complete with his ecstasy-induced punctuation. Jack moved his other hand into Will’s breeches, taking his half-erect manhood in his hand and stroking it slowly, lovingly…

Will tried to reach Jack’s breeches. “No…read to me lad. Just read to me…”

Jack was driving him wild with desire. Mouth kissing and blowing on Will’s nipple, one hand teasing his other nipple, getting so close yet refusing to touch it directly, and other hand stroking his member just tantalizingly enough to keep him on the razor’s edge between misery and bliss. Suddenly, Jack took the nipple in his mouth between his teeth and started humming, allowing his tongue to flick across the very tip. His fingernail lightly dragged against his other nipple, making Will howl in the agony of ecstasy. He knew if he let even one hand fall from the book that Jack would stop again. He was effectively Jack’s prisoner, no ropes required. He was captive to Jack’s ministrations. Jack played Will’s body as a master musician played a flawless instrument, eliciting moans, mewls, shrieks and howls at his sole command. Jack paused, not moving. “Yer not readin’, whelp.” He chuckled and started suckling Will’s nipple again, humming softly. Then he started working his mouth lower, still humming.

Will TRIED. He really did! He got three words into the next poem, and his eyes crossed as Jack gently moved his tongue across the head of Will’s cock. The stroking continued, and Will’s moans increased, the poem forgotten. “Jack, please…let me touch you,” he gasped.

Jack stopped and looked up at him and grinned, dark eyes twinkling. “Whelp, you read that poem to me or I’ll not go on.”

Will concentrated on the poem. He read the same line four times, moaning between words, but he finally got the concentration down. He began reading in earnest, only letting small hisses escape between the lines, trying to ignore the fact that Jack was driving him mad with desire. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, he was able to disconnect his mind from his body, allowing his pleasure to fly free as his voice droned on.

Jack noticed this, and took Will’s manhood deep into his mouth, licking around it, and bobbing his head up and down its length, his trinkets jingling happily like a rich man’s purse. Will kept reading, his hips moving of their own accord, a bit of precum releasing into Jack’s mouth. Jack moaned in the pleasure of it, and bobbed faster, taking the hand that had been stroking Will’s cock and tickling his sac. Will continued reading, his pace never wavering, but his body shivering all over, his cock pulsating, ready to spend. Jack continued humming, taking Will’s length deep into his throat and off again as fast as he could. Still Will kept reading.

Finally, when Jack felt Will’s body could stand no more, he reached up with his other hand, and snatched the book out of Will’s hands and dropped it on the floor. As Will’s mind re-engaged to his body, all of the feelings that his body had been having without him bombarded him at once, and he screamed as if he’d been stabbed, spending into Jack’s mouth harder than he’d ever cum before. Hard enough that Jack was almost unable to keep up with it. The orgasm went on forever. Even after his manhood ceased issuing, it continued, wracking his body with spasms as if he were possessed by demons! Jack kept Will’s manhood in his mouth, but stopped all movement, holding him around the front of his waist, waiting for the spasms to subside. Finally, Will’s body was unable to keep pace with his lust, and he collapsed with a final shriek, unconscious.

Jack quickly listened to his chest for a heartbeat, which was going fast but was slowly calming down. He grinned. “Well, whelp, you finally learned. I’m proud of ye.” He reached down for the book, carefully stood up, walked slowly over to the bookcase, putting it back where it belonged, walked back, sat down, and nonchalantly started eating lunch.

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TBC

A/N: Did you know that the *ONLY* payment that fanfiction writers ever see is the review that someone gives their work? While it would be great to get paid for this, it's a labor of love...and it gives a writer warm fuzzies to go on when someone appreciates (or hates) their work enough to comment on it. I *LOVE* warm fuzzies...Now please feed the plot bunnies by hitting the "REVIEW" button!!!