Chapter Text
A wise man once had said that idleness was the enemy of the soul, so by the same token, hard physical labor should prove to be its savior, and James definitely needed his spirits lifted after that dreadful night. With that in mind, he made himself the busiest sailor onboard, adjusting the ropes, running between the hold and the mess with food supplies, and scrubbing the deck, all the while avoiding the crew - especially their captain.
The Caribbean sun was particularly merciless that day, casting waves of heat upon the ship with a relentless passion, forcing the pirates - including James himself - to reduce their attire to a bare minimum. Even Jack, who was standing proudly at the helm, opted to discard most of the layers of clothing he normally covered himself up with, leaving just his bandana on, his loose shirt, and - thankfully - his breeches.
James stole a glance at him from the main deck, mentally chastised himself for doing so, and quickly returned to brushing the boards clean. The idiot could dress up as a gigantic parrot for all he cared, as long as he stayed out of his head.
So far, Norrington had been doing a really good job of paying Sparrow no mind, and apparently the sentiment was mutual. As a matter of fact, the captain was treating him like the fifth wheel of a wagon, only giving him orders through Mr. Gibbs when some menial chore had to be done, not even referring to him by his name.
“Let the help take care of it,” he would tell his quartermaster in a dismissive tone, loudly enough for James to overhear. How rude! Clearly, Jack didn’t consider him to be a useful crewmember, reducing him to a mere tag-along errand boy! How ironic, considering the ex-commodore was the most competent hand onboard. Or maybe Jack was doing it on purpose, relishing in the humiliation James had to endure?
There you go, thinking about that parasite again! Norrington scolded himself, shifting his attention back to the job at hand. His mission was to keep his thoughts Sparrowless under any circumstances, and it was of paramount importance to succeed in that endeavor if he wanted to keep his sanity intact.
Unfortunately, sometime around noon, the hot spells became almost unbearable, and Jack decided to liberate his upper body from its linen confines, exposing his sleek torso and heavily tattooed back to the world. James knew he was doomed right there and then. He couldn’t help but marvel at the exotic patterns and mysterious letters inked into Jack’s skin, his mind already making appropriate adjustments for the next time-
No! Absolutely not! James’ inner voice yelled at him again. Just keep scrubbing!
Pressing the holy stone harder against the wooden surface, the former Navy man doubled his efforts, almost tearing a hole in the decking. As large droplets of sweat started dripping from his forehead, he could feel his body overheating at an alarming rate. Surely, it was the scorching weather combined with the manual labor that made him all burned up, and it had nothing to do with a half-naked pirate prancing around the ship.
James had never had a problem with two males having an intimate relationship, firmly believing that one’s bedroom inclinations were nobody else's business. The Navy certainly frowned upon affairs of such nature, but he had always preferred to turn a blind eye to sailors who would comfort one another on long and lonely voyages. As a career officer, he had never engaged in anything like that himself, of course, but he wasn’t against the idea on principle. The struggle here was not the fact that he was becoming more and more attracted to Jack, who happened to be a man, but that the man he was becoming attracted to happened to be Jack - a terrifying notion, indeed!
Grinding his teeth, Norrington continued his work, forcing the intrusive thoughts to the back of his mind. He was doing quite well until a wobbly shadow fell upon him, temporarily shielding him from the fiery sun rays. Looking up, he was surprised - and equally dismayed - to see none other than Jack, looming over him with an impassive expression etched onto his face.
“Ye missed a spot mate,” he mumbled, waving his bottle-wielding hand over a little pool of rum that he had just spilled himself!
Before Norrington had a chance to snarl out a snide retort - or strangle him with his bare hands - Jack had already moved on, swaying his hips as he casually strolled towards the prow. James glared at his retreating form, but his anger quickly gave way to something akin to wonderment. When fully clothed, the pirate appeared to be lean - a bit on the skinnier side in fact - but once his shirt was off and his well-defined muscles were on full display, it was obvious that he had more physical prowess than he let on. He would rarely use that resource, his tongue being sharper than his sword, but he was definitely capable of holding his own in a fight.
James stared after him with such intensity that he hadn’t even noticed Mr. Gibbs crouching down by his side, studying him curiously.
“Here,” the old seadog handed him a flask, “drink some b’fore ye keel over.”
“I’m fine,” James grumbled, but he took the offering anyway. His lips did feel absolutely parched, and the skin on his back was starting to prickle, so turning down fresh water that wasn’t being thrown in his face would be foolish. He proceeded to gulp down all of the contents of the flask, noticing with some concern that Gibbs’ face was becoming more and more blurry with every swig.
“I’ve seen bigger tars than ye claimed by t’ sun heat,” the quartermaster stated in a matter-of-a-fact tone. “Off ye go below decks, and that be an order.”
If there was one thing the former officer knew, it was to follow his superiors’ commands - even when said superior was a half-drunk, grizzled sea dog - and so, James had no choice but to comply. Besides, getting some shade wasn’t a horrible idea. Looking around the deck, he noticed that the other pirates had left their posts as well, most likely to have their midday meal in the mess area.
The cargo bay it is then, James mentally sighed, knowing full well that dining with the crew was out of the question. He wasn’t hungry anyway, though he hadn’t had anything to eat for over a day. With a curt nod to Gibbs, he got up and left, doing his best to ignore the burning sensation spreading all over his upper body. It took some advanced stagger-management to get there, but he eventually reached his flour-bag lair in the hold and... subsequently passed out.
The next thing he knew, he was standing on the main deck again, his eyes greeted by the most delicious sight his mind could conjure - captain Sparrow on all fours, scrubbing the wooden boards with great ferocity, naked as the day he had been brought to this world. James couldn’t help but stare in awe, admiring how the inked symbols across Jack’s back and arms shifted with every movement of his muscles. The patterns were a true piece of art, their mysterious beauty atoning for the undoubtedly long and painful process it took to create them.
As fascinating as the tattoos were, it was difficult to ignore the tiny droplets of sweat gliding lazily along the column of Jack’s spine, going all the way down to the groove between his buttocks. His arse was a masterpiece in its own right, round and firm, slightly paler than the rest of his body, the smooth skin basking in the hot Caribbean sun. James wished there was a way to capture that image instantly and hide it in his pocket, so that he could get back to it whenever he wanted to relive the memory. It would be such a shame to wake up and forget that marvellous scene, but something told him that wasn’t going to be the case.
While Sparrow continued his work, Norrington approached him and pointed at a conveniently placed smudge next to his foot.
“You missed a spot,” he said, mouth curving into a sly smirk. He couldn’t help himself. Jack gave him a sidelong glance over his shoulder and smiled knowingly, but otherwise didn’t respond to the little jibe. Instead, he stopped what he was doing and slowly got up, giving the former officer a nice view of his… frontal assets, which caused some bottom lips to be bitten, toes to be curled, and certain body parts to be stirred. Then, without a word, the pirate sauntered to the railing and leaned over it, seemingly to marvel at the horizon ahead, but his back was arched and his hips were raised in what was undoubtedly an invitation for James to broaden his own horizons.
That tantalizing devil, James thought, already on his way to accept the proposition, feeling more confident than the last time Jack had invaded his dream. No, he wasn’t going to let the captain reduce him to a whimpering mess like he had before, squeezing undignified sounds out of him like he was playing a broken bagpipe. He had been caught off guard then, but he was ready to take control again. No regrets! No consequences! No-
No quoting that damn pest! James frowned, but as he stood behind Jack, admiring the view he was presented with, his expression softened a little. Whether brought upon by an identity crisis or the change in the power dynamics between them, this strange infatuation with the pirate had a strong hold on him. He figured that he needed to circumvent it by any necessary means, so maybe if he showed a little initiative, he would get it out of his system and finally have a good night’s sleep - with no intrusive Sparrows nesting in his head!
Determined to cleanse his mind of the forbidden fruit, Norrington pressed the flat of his palm against Jack’s lower back, then slid it along the curve of his buttocks where he took a handful of flesh, squeezing it lightly as if he was testing the ripeness of a peach. Satisfied with the firmness, he smacked the left cheek with great gusto, watching it bounce up and down, turning a light shade of pink in the process.
He couldn’t see Jack’s face as it was hidden behind a thick veil of dreadlocks and braids, but the man must have enjoyed it, his suggestive, bent-up position an obvious encouragement to continue. Well, James was more than happy to oblige. He swiftly repeated the action a few times, paying the same level of attention to each mold, earning a similar rebound effect and an evenly-spread hue of redness for him to admire. All in all, he’d always appreciated symmetry.
Apart from a little grunt after each slap, Jack remained quiet throughout the ordeal, his uncharacteristic silence nothing more than a tease. He did turn his head around slightly, gracing James with a smug grin, letting him know that it would take much more than that to impress him.
Good - the former Navy man had always enjoyed a challenge.
In an attempt to elicit a more vocal reaction, he snakend one arm around Jack’s waist and pulled him closer, making sure the captain felt James’ own enthusiasm pushing against the fabric of his breeches. His other hand drifted lazily between the man’s hip and his inner thigh, the gentle touch leaving a trail of goosebumps along the way. A quiet humm reached Norrington’s ears, informing him that he was going in the right direction, but it wasn’t enough.
“I’d like to hear you chirp, Sparrow,” James stated, his voice decisive but calm, oozing the same kind of confidence he used to have when giving orders to his subordinates. This, however, wasn’t so much an order but a declaration, and Norrington wasn’t one to make empty promises. If Jack wanted to play the silent game, so be it - it wouldn’t last too long as far as he was concerned. With a clever strategy and its flawless execution, he was going to make this bird sing in the upper register!
When the pirate stubbornly refused to voice an answer, James decided to up the ante, letting his fingers hover over Jack’s entrance before sliding one digit in, the action producing a sharp gasp from the man’s lips. The warmth and sleekness that welcomed him inside emboldened him to venture further, so he pushed in and out, deeper and deeper each time he came back, set on finding the illustrious spot that - according to the gossip in the bilges - could send any man over the edge. In order to increase his chances of success, he added another soldier to the search party, and although Sparrow was yet to make a sound, the rocking motion of his hips and the shaky breaths he released proved to be quite helpful in carrying out the mission.
It didn’t take long to discover the target, focus on it and strike, sending a trembling wave of pleasure washing over Jack’s body. Throwing his head back, the man tensed up like a board, and James could see his fingers digging into the rail so hard that he almost bore holes in it. The obtuse pirate was probably biting his lip with the same force of pig-headedness, refusing to surrender in their peculiar battle of wills. Not one to be easily discouraged, Norrington ordered his troops to engage again and again, adding rotation to broaden the scope, and after a while, his efforts were rewarded with the sweetest moan of delight.
A satisfied smirk appeared on James’ face. Finally, he was getting somewhere, but the defiant captain of the Black Pearl wouldn’t go down without a fight. It was time to bring out the big gun. The problem was, he had never used the big gun on a male stern before, though... it couldn’t be that different from that of a wench... He hoped.
Sensing his hesitation, Jack peeked at James once again, one eyebrow raised, silently urging him to just get on with it. In order to emphasize his point, he spread his legs even more and swayed his rosy rear a bit, the wordless message loud and clear. Norrington shook his head with a sigh, but smiled nonetheless. Why would he worry so much about his performance in a silly, little dream? If anything, he was free to indulge himself fully while navigating these uncharted waters, risking nothing for his troubles. Besides, he had a score to settle with the pirate, and apparently, Jack was rooting for him to succeed.
With that in mind, Norrington closed his eyes and wished his clothes away, instantly joining Sparrow in his nude splendor. A sneaky plan formulated in his head as his body tingled with excitement. After all, he had always prided himself on being a good strategist. The idea was brilliant in its simplicity, really - why focus on one area when he had enough resources at his disposal to set up an ambush from both sides?
The abrupt sound of sails fluttering in the breeze and the light creaking of the woodwork seemed to voice their approval, as if the Pearl was whispering in his ear, telling him to go ahead with the tactic. And so, he did.
Sliding his hand between Jack’s thighs, James let his fingers travel through the jungle of dark curls to reach for the pirate’s most prized effect. The hardness he found there matched his own, which meant his earlier efforts hadn’t been in vain. When his grip around it tightened and his wrist was set in motion, James was more than happy to hear Jack’s hitched breaths quickly turning into groans of pleasure, tipping the scales of victory in his favor.
After a few warning strokes, it was time for James to test his multi-tasking skills, but not before a little intermission to see if his hostage would finally break. The throbbing piece of flesh in his palm would have screamed in agony if it could, but its owner proved to be much more resilient than anticipated. For the time being.
“Do you yield, Sparrow?” James asked in his most casual tone, teasing the tip with his thumb, the feathery touch providing not nearly enough friction for Jack’s comfort. The stubborn captain was panting heavily, relying mostly on his forearms to support himself since his legs were too shaky to do their job properly, but still, he would not speak. He did, however, let out a low grumble as his hips bucked involuntarily, his whole body practically begging to be taken. The pirate wouldn’t last long like this, suspended between anticipation and release, and they both knew it.
“Well?” The former commodore asked, waiting patiently at the gate, refusing to enter without a verbal invitation. He was thoroughly enjoying his revenge, watching the arrogant buccaneer sweat, and squirm, and wiggle his arse helplessly, left completely at James’ mercy. Jack certainly deserved it - both of them did, the real one, and the dream-trespassing one - for all the rubbish Norrington had to put up with since joining the Black Pearl’s band of social outcasts.
As sharp huffs of air escaped the captain’s lips, cutting through the silence like a knife into butter, the tension kept growing and growing and growing until-.
“James…” Sparrow finally choked out, which - thank the heavens - equaled admitting defeat.
Took him long enough!
Pleased with the result, Norrington rubbed against his backside, never releasing his hold on the front-end, set on taunting him a bit longer.
“Yes, captain?”
Jack swore under his breath, but the colorful language was somewhat undercut by a quiet whimper that followed suit.
“Where are your manners, sir ?” James chuckled, dragging out the man’s torture, though he himself wanted the game to reach its conclusion sooner rather than later. He may have had the upper hand at first, but the twitching arousal between his legs painfully reminded him that he wasn’t doing himself any favors by keeping it at bay for such a long time. Their self-imposed standstill was becoming as ridiculous as loading a pistol full of black powder, pointing it at the enemy and threatening to fire... only to shoot oneself in the foot. Twice.
Fortunately, Sparrow was clearly at his breaking point, if the wheezing and the trembling were anything to go by, not to mention the slight moisture suddenly clinging to James’ palm.
“Parlay?” The pirate managed a breathy request, sending his opponent a hopeful glance.
“I’m afraid you’re in no position to negotiate, captain,” Norrington was quick to point out, and if he had a moustache to twirl menacingly, the moustache would be twirled.
“Ye sure ‘bout tha’?” Jack asked, spinning around so fast and so abruptly that all James saw was a flash of gold before the captain’s lips crashed against his own, hauling him into a deep kiss. It was wild, and possessive, and as unexpected as it was welcomed, though the former commodore should have known Sparrow had one more ace up his sleeve. He always did, the devil.
As their tongues engaged in a careless dance, their bodies melted into one another, skin rubbing against skin, hands roaming all over the place, caressing, massaging, brushing, and scraping... Suddenly, Jack bit Norrington’s lip, either to punish him or to goad him further, but James was quick to retaliate, tangling his fingers in Jack’s messy hair and pulling it back, making the pirate arch up into him. While the battle upstairs continued, with every area swept thoroughly and no quarter given, their lower regions started a vicious sword fight of their own, neither side willing to stand down.
When they were finally out of breath, the kiss broke and they found themselves panting, hungrily swallowing air, their gazes clouded with lust, trembling hands never leaving their claimed territories.
“Call it even, then?” Jack offered, and James had no doubt what the question entailed - the war was over, and it was time to collect the spoils. The thought itself was almost enough to give him release. He had never had such a visceral reaction to anyone or anything in his life, and he briefly wondered what it all meant, and if it was wise to allow himself to succumb to Jack’s charms, even if only in a dream, even if only this one last time… but then again, the circumstances weren’t particularly favorable for deeper reflection. What he did know was that in the unfortunate event of him waking up right there and then, he would undoubtedly explode, and so-
“We have an accord,” James agreed, gagging all reason and letting his passion take over. In a blink of an eye, he grabbed Jack’s waist and spun him around, then pushed his tattooed back down, bending him accordingly. With the confidence of a veteran, he entered him swiftly, and this time, the pirate didn’t hesitate to voice his approval. The resounding echo of his name being called out left James’ head swimming, but the rest of his body remained sharp, ready to strike while the iron was still hot. And hot it was, Jack’s cosy walls wrapping around his manhood, igniting every nerve within reach, setting his pelvis on fire. The blazing sensation spread throughout his entire system like he was made of straw, and he felt like he could be swallowed whole by the roaring inferno.
Closing his eyes, Norrington pulled in and out, faster and hungrier with each thrust, as if afraid he wouldn’t make it in time to satiate his thirst. He could hear a wide spectrum of vowels escaping the captain’s lips, and sometime between the ohs and the uhs his initial plan came to mind. When his hand skimmed around the man’s slim waist and dove between his legs, searching blindly for the not-so-hidden treasure, Jack was quick to assist by guiding him there, his hips rocking fluidly to maintain their rhythm.
In a show of splendid cooperation, James took care of the stroking and the pumping, while Jack was tasked with the swaying and the bending, both of them working towards the same goal - riding the waves of pulsating delight. They were not rivals anymore, but a well-organized unit, their bodies oscillating back and forth in perfect unison as if they had practiced the choreography for years. They must have been doing a damn fine job too, as the pirate’s vocals became longer and louder, eclipsed only by James’ own cries of pleasure.
Once they were close to reaching the climax, Sparrow started calling out some foreign deities - or perhaps summoning the demons responsible for their unholy union - and oddly enough, James could have sworn he heard his own name among the strange pantheon. There was no time to ponder the fact, as they needed to head back to the port due to the prominent leaks in their respective hulls. With one final thrust, their voyage came to an end, both sailors dropping their anchors at the same time whilst loudly announcing their happy arrival.
Drained beyond belief, James still couldn’t see straight when he hit the deck hard, but he managed to prop his back up against the bulkhead to spare himself the indignity of being splayed out flat like a boneless sack of meat. While he was trying to calm his ragged breaths, he felt something coarse brushing against his abdomen and tickling his groin, so he forced his gaze down to investigate what - or rather who - it was. To Norrington’s utter lack of surprise, the strange feeling was caused by a messy bundle of braids and dreadlocks splayed all over his legs, Jack inviting himself to lay his head down on his lap.
Well, James knew he only had himself to blame.
“I have to say, ex-commodore,” the pirate started, grinning from ear to ear like the loon that he was, “I didn’t think ye had it in ye.”
James sighed. “To be honest, neither did I.” And he meant that, too. The whole point of letting go of his inhibitions had been to exterminate Jack from his thoughts once and for all, but he didn’t think the experience would be so… intense. “Are you going to leave me alone now? May I finally have some peace of mind, at least in my sleep?”
Jack’s steady gaze was difficult to read. “D’ ye truly want me to, mate?”
Norrington opened his mouth to answer, but he found it extremely difficult to formulate a sensible response. Truth be told, he didn’t know what he wanted anymore, and even if he did, he doubted it was obtainable at that point. Completely unaccustomed to being so lost, he decided to change the subject immediately.
Jack’s body art caught his attention once again, and he couldn’t stop himself from brushing his palms against the man’s biceps as if to check if the peculiar markings were real. Of course, he was fully aware that this whole situation was just a flight of fancy, and the ridiculousness of it all was not lost on him.
“Where did you get those?” He asked nonetheless, his fingertips tracing the tribal patterns of ink etched onto Jack’s skin.
“Wha’? Me arms? Was born with ‘em I s’ppose.” Jack shrugged, the sincerity of his response prompting James’ eyes to roll in their sockets.
“I meant your tattoos, you daft pillock.”
Jack waved his hand dismissively. “Oh. I dunno. Some faraway place I reckon.”
The answer shouldn’t have been a surprise - naturally, the dream-version of Sparrow wouldn’t tell James anything beyond what he had already known, which was very little as far as the mysterious pirate was concerned. Still, Norrington felt an inexplicable urge to find out more about him, perhaps discover a dark secret he harbored inside, or learn something about his past, even if it was only to play-pretend for a bit.
“Do they mean anything to you?” Jamese pressed on, ignoring the fact that this pathetic attempt at a conversation was as futile as talking to a sack of potatoes.
Jack’s impassive expression only confirmed it. “I suspect they do.” Sadly, he offered no further explanation, but he did wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, and out of a wide set of smirks he had in his repertoire, he chose the most annoying one. “Interested in good ol’ Jack now, are ye?"
James huffed. “Don’t flatter yourself,” he replied curtly, but the disappointment he felt was undeniable.
All of a sudden, Sparrow's head was no longer in his lap, but right in front of his face, and all James could see was a pair of slightly squinted, coal-dark eyes studying him intensely. The former officer froze, unsure what had caused the abrupt change in the captain’s behavior. Did a fly land on his forehead? Did Jack get upset or… was he about to kiss him?
“Is ye dead?” The pirate asked, his head slightly tilted, index finger poking James’ shoulder repeatedly. “Speak, man!”
Norrington blinked twice, completely bemused, then his vision blurred for a second before it refocused on Jack again.
“W-wha’? Dea’?” The words came out oddly slurred, but what was even more concerning, was the idea that he might have actually died at some point, and that he hadn’t been dreaming after all. What if he was in hell? Or worse yet, what if this was heaven ?! Should the latter be the case, he would surely file an official complaint. Or maybe not-
“Heat stroke,” another voice announced casually, and James could have sworn it belonged to Mr. Gibbs. He became vaguely aware that he wasn’t on the main deck anymore, though his eyes weren't too reliable at the time, struggling to stay open and alert. His sense of hearing seemed to be failing him as well, barely registering what Jack was mumbling about, courtesy of the little bells that just wouldn’t stop ringing in his ears.
“Me cabin… Lizzie will handle… there be no living with ‘er if... former fiancé…,” was all that Norrington managed to pick up before someone’s hands snaked under his armpits, lifting him off the ground. It was hard to tell what happened next with his head feeling so dizzy, his body aching all over - weak yet heavy like a stone - and the world around him turning dark in an instant. Unsure whether he was dreaming, awake or floating in some sphere of the afterlife, James welcomed the bliss of oblivion with open arms, passing out the moment he got dragged out of the cargo bay.