Jade & Sunlight

Jade aunliunlight

JulieDoc

Pairing: Jack/Norrington (sort of). NC-17 for nudity and a few random sexual thoughts. PWP and way too much convenience-of-situation. Gods, it's so-o-o "romance novel". Sheesh.

Disclaimer: The large, smiley rodent owns POTC. The actors (Johnny Depp, especially, so I hear) own their characterizations. I own nothing. Seriously. Check my house!

Dedication: For my buddy, Spoon, who hath had a bad job existence. {{Huggles unto thee.}}

Feedbacks: Are the verray beads in m' dreadlocks, loves. Flames will be used to blow up rum caches.

The best way for Jack Sparrow toit Wit Will and Elizabeth in Port Royal was to slip in under cover of darkness. He knew as much, and logic dictated the same. Unfortunately, it was late afternoon when he had decided to row out. He simply couldn't wait that long.

Besides, he wasn't exactly known for his logic.

Still, he was running the risk of making an extremely stupid decision. He was in need of a plan, at least at this time of day. He slumped in one of the town's more unsavory and darker alleys, shading his eyes from the brightness of the sun, and shielding himself from prying eyes. It seemed to him that the best way to ensure his safety was to check on the position and actions of the man who caused him the most threat: Commodore Norrington. He was absolutely sure that were anyone to tell the good Commodore that someone of his appearance was seen in the city, he would have to make his visit here unpleasantly short.

It wouldn't be hard for him to find the other man. After all, Jack was intimately acquainted with the fort and its stockade. He'd even had some inkling of where Norrington's office was, having passed it en route to his previous lodgings in Port Royal. A quick look with the telescope would suffice to see whether the Commodore was busy. Hopefully, he was occupied, with a stack of paperwork half Jack's height.

Jack's expert plan yielded naught. He saw nothing in Norrington's office from his vantage point but several incredibly neatly stacked piles of books and documents on all, ll, completely immaculate desk. The man in question was nowhere to be found.

Jack had already conducted a very careful, very quick search of the pier when he'd docked the rowboat. Norrington hadn't been there, either. Perhaps it was time for a few good slugs of rum before he continued looking. The situation didn't seem as dangerous as it could have been, and Jack thought he did deserve a bit of leisure.

Thenin, in, he hadn't visited the Commodore's residence. Perhaps dear Norri had actually managed to take a day off duty. Jack scratched his braided head. "Perhaps the Black Pearl will take wings and fly," he snorted to himself.

Jack's curiosity got the better of him, though. With slight cajoling to a few local working girls, he managed to learn the whereabouts of Norrington's home. It ended up being a small affair, a two-story cottage with a minimum number of servants. This presented a perfect opportunity to the pirate, who surveyed the place from all angles, confident that he wasn't being observed.

Then, he saw something that put a broad, gilt smile on his face. The daft officer had actually left one of his upper windows wide open! The trick was only to slip in without being seen. The ledge below the window looked wide enough for Jack to tiptoe along, and a palm had bent dangerously close to said ledge. It was too temptingly easy for Captain Sparrow to ignore.

All that remained was for Jack to wait for the opportune moment. As Norrington's home loc located in one of the quieter, less populated parts of the port city, it took a minimum of preparation for Jack to scramble up the tree's trunk unseen. He waited in the thick fronds for two people to pass below, then took a flying leap to the window ledge. He landed, surprisingly quietly, upon his feet, but had to flail his arms wildly in circles so he wouldn't fall and break his neck. His kohl-smeared eyes went extraordinarily wide when he made this effort, and he nearly shouted in his desperation. Giving a quick, withering glance down at the ground as if cursing the very force of gravity, Jack stepped inside the room.

He gave the wall opposite him an appraising look, noticing the quiet breathing behind him as he turned. Thank the powers he had landed so quietly; he had landed in a sleeping person's bedchamber. Not the first time, and surely not the last, he shrugged to himself. His wild luck had also seen him through in that the furnishings indicated that this was Norrington's own room, and that the man he was looking so desperately to avoid was sleeping in the bed right behind him. I could finish 'im offht hht here, if I had half a mind to, Jack noted silently, and turned.

Jack's eyes widened for the second time that afternoon. Norrington was indeed asleep, but the figure on the bed was nothing like the stoic naval officer that Jack took great delight in tormenting as far as the chase went. No, this was a vision better reserved for a painter or sculptor. In fact, Jack had to blink to make sure the smooth, bare skin before him wasn't some sort of creamy marble.

The Commodore slumbered naked, lit only by the sun. The powdered wig had been carelessly tossed aside onto the floor, as in great exasperation. Every other trapping of authority he'd ever worn in Jack's presence was thrown there, as well, but for his sword, which lay on the dresser. Dark hair, unbound, grown slightly past Norrington's shoulders, spread out over the pillow like a stain of ink. All lines were smoothed from his face, giving a look of near-contentment to his features. The skin was pale, over long, lean muscles, but looked soft to the touch.

"Damn, you are lovely, aren't you?" Jack murmured. Like this, he looked so young, barely older than Will. Most likely, he really wasn't much older. If Jack had been forced to guess, he might not have even reached thirty yet.

The sight made his fingers itch. Of the men Jack had loved, he had seen very few of them completely bare, encounters with them beiboarboard ship, generally, and more hurried than his dalliances with women.

James Norrington was jolted from his rare afternoon nap by the sound of a familiar voice. He lay stone s, fe, feigning sleep, waiting to be certain of the intruder's identity. He cracked one eye under long black lashes, looking though them clandestinely. Damn. He hadn't been having a nightmare; Jack Sparrow really was in the room, hovering a short distance from the foot of his bed.

He was helplessly unarmed;factfact, his sword was on the armoire behind Sparrow. You are a doddering idiot, Jamey, the Commodore muttered to himself. He disguised his despondent sigh as half-snoring.

Still, Sparrow made absolutely no move for his sword. Instead, he loped closer, merely looking. James suppressed a shiver. Perhaps Sparrow had other things on his mind. His heart beat a little faster for fear of that, but James kept his breathing regular and low. He knew something of that sort of pain, though he'd never called it "rape". He'd called it "duty to higher-ranking officers"; never brutal, never forced, but there'd been no joy in it, either. Something about Sparrow made Norrington wonder if the man was capable of rape; typical pirates were, but Sparrow was an oddity. Living in his own twisted little world might have even have made the scoundrel think James had welcomed him with open arms, though not likely.

Then again, Sparrow was simply watching him, dark eyes inscrutable. He'd made no move.

Jack swayed forward. "Hear me, can you, Commodore?" He was nearer Norrington's face now. The sleeping man gave no sign of waking. "Good. You'll never hear what I have to tell you, savvy?" Jack's kohl-painted eyes shut as he collected his thoughts, which was, admittedly, a task that comprised a few moments. He had to gather the vision of sleek, pale skin, long limbs in that slight sprawl, one arm crooked behind the recumbent man's head.

He opened his eyes to find soft lips parted and wet with each sip of air. Jack wanted to kiss him, forgetting for a short time that this esitesite creature was Commodore Norrington. As he remembered that, Jack thought it might be fun to make said creature forget he was Commodore Norrington. The thought went beyond panimanimal lust to a desire to lay his hands on something so fine.

Jack continued his perusal without a word. Norri had satiny, long eyelashes a girl would envy. With them, Norrington would never have any need of kohl to shade his eyes, although the thought intrigued Jack. He knew those lashes hid eyes like dark jade. They reminded him of the eyes of a leopard he'd seen caged in Singapore; not only in their colour, but in their barely leashed intensity. Jack traced the face of his adversary with his gaze, since he was forbidden to use his fingers.

He lingered on the fair throat, wanting to see how purple marks from his own lips would stand out on it. The, as his eyes wandered downward, he noticed something. Jack's last name may have been "Sparrow", but, he was really more like a magpie when it came to shiny things. Shinghing gold faintly glimmered against Norrington's chest, below a sparse, soft-lookintch tch of dark hair. If he couldn't touch, at least he could investigate.

"Sorry, Luv," Jack muttered softly, as one of his furry ropes of hair delicately dragged a short distance across Norrington's collarbone. He flicked it back behind his neck. "What have we here?" The gleam had come from a gold ring through the staid Commodore's left nipple. "Bless me." It was no mere delicate wire through the pink flesh; the ring was as proper as any of the ones Jack had. It was threaded through with a small, faceted jade bead, flat where it hit his flesh, from the way it lay. Jack chuckled without betraying much sound. That showed foresight; Norrington wore close-fitting clothes and a rougher or differently-shaped stone would have dug uncomfortably into his skin. "I'd like to hear where you got this, mate. Though you'd sooner have my neck stretched than speak to me about it. Then again, now I know your little secret." He didn't mention that the jade matched Norrington's eyes almost exactly, or that the adornment made him want to suckle that nipple, ring and all, into his mouth.

Norrington tried not to wince at the rum-scented breath. He knew exactly what the pirate was referring to. Tll tll the truth, he'd had the ring put in on one of his longer voyages. It was done so he could remind himself that the British Navy was not everything he was. It was the only thing he wore that had ever been completely his; not a uniform or to look the part of a well-to-do man. It marked him, he felt, as daring when he'd been taught to be controlled, made him feel more a traveler than a soldier. He'd never shown it to anyone; James kept his shirt on durins sps sparse sexual encounters, no matter how many entreatie aba abandon himself he got. Now, Sparrow, of all people, knew about it. He fought not to invite himself trouble by clenching a fist and knocking the gold grin off the pirate's face.

"I'd bet it's special to you, though, as are mine to me," Jack Sparrow's voice had lowered itself. "You've no ink on your skin, more's the pity. One of those garland-jobs from Tahiti might look good around your white throat, eh, Commodore?"

Jack carefully touched Norrington's throat with his fingertips, lingered for only half a second, lifted them. He smoothed his hand through the air a scant few inches from the milky skin. Jack almost drew his way over the shadows of Norrington's ribcage, sliding his hand down without touching. Jack then gently rested his palm over the sleek muscles of his adversary's stomach, petting him for a moment.

Norrington's brow furrowed for a moment, but he did not open his eyes. Jack smiled; Norri was a surprisingly deep sleeper. He decided not to tempt fate and lifted his hand. Jack continued his perusal of the Commodore's body.

His sex was even beautiful. Long and slender and as pink as Norrington's lips, even est,est, it lay in a nest of sable hair. Jack wondered how long that warm, silky flesh had lain neglected, untended. How long had it been for the young man since he'd had those dark, heavy balls squeezed or rubbed? In a fit of eccentric thought, Jack wondered exactly how deeply the naval officer slept. Would he think it an erotic dream if Jack were to slick his foreskin back to expose the head of his cock and caress until he was wet? It had been obvious from minute one to the pirate that Norrington was in desperate need of a good sucking or three. To do so would not only be an indulgence for himself, in the pirate's humble opinion, 'twould be downright charitable.

"Pity," Jack muttered, deciding against courting an infuriated Norrington. "I won't touch you there. Oh, but you need it, too. Makes me hurt that no one prob'ly has, in quite a while."

Norrington snarled inwardly. Curse you to the blackest pit in Hell, Spa. .

"Shame, too, as you're such a beauty with that damned uniform gone. The real pity is, Norri, that you prob'ly whimper when you come, maybe even cry. Ashamed to have pleasure, which breaks me black heart. Nothing that makes someone so beautiful happy can be dirty, but you likely think so. Plague take fancy society for doing that to you, Norri." There was no hint of madness in the voice, nor sarcasm.

James couldn't see Sparrow, because the man's words had cut so truly that tears blurred his already-obscured vision. He didn't know whether to be angry, or simply to continue weeping for the dismal fact. James wanted to wipe his face, but found it already being daubed with a corner of the sheet.

"I knew you were awake," Jack whispered softly. "I've near cut you with m' sword a few times, Norrington. I had no wish to cut you with m' words. I really hoped it weren't true, savvy?"

"I almost believe that, Sparrow."

"Oh, you'd best believe it, Luv. I'd rather have you swinging at me than cryin'." Jack crouched by the bed, looking Norrington in the eye.

The naval officer gaped a little at what he saw; there was as close to sincerity as he'd ever seen shining ie bre brown depths. "On that note . . ." the pirate grinned broadly, fastened his hand in Norrington's dark hair, and pulled the parted lips to his. The kiss was hungry, worshipful, and burned with the rum on Jack Sparrow's tongue as it took full advantage of the hollow of James' mouth. Norrington had no sooner closed his eyes than it was already over. "Swing at me for that, Norri."

Jack grinned at the shocked look in the green eyes, and shambled to his feet. "When you plan to find someone to make you feel good, make sure you let them, savvy? Do it soon, Commodore." pirapirate's voice lowered on his last statement. There was a rush of booted feet, and Jack Sparrow made a dive from the open window into the adjacent tree, with the Commodore still rubbing his lips.

James Norrington grabbed up the sheet, slung it over himself irritatedly, and curled onto his side.