Fic: "Deliverence" (Norrington/Sparrow, R)
Last installment of the late-night gay!
Title: Deliverence
Rating: R
Pairing: James Norrington/Jack Sparrow
Summary: Sequel to "The Crux of the Matter" and the end to the arc begun by "Atonement". Jack Sparrow comes to make good on his promise to Norrington.
Warnings: This takes place post-"Dead Man's Chest" and while it doesn't include explicit spoilers, it probably makes a lot more sense with that knowledge in hand.
I love falasama and her helpful beta ways.
Commodore Norrington had tightened security not at all since Jack Sparrow’s last break-in, a fact which pleased Jack to no end. The servant’s door at the back of the household was left on the latch, and it was a simple matter of not giving away his presence as he crept upstairs and entered the Commodore’s bedroom.
Jack was pleasantly drunk, having spent the last several hours at one of Port Royal’s most disreputable taverns. It didn’t hold a candle to Tortuga, of course, but he’d been in need of a way to pass the time until the opportune moment to arrive tonight.
When he eased open the door to the Commodore’s bedroom, Jack saw that his waiting had been worthwhile. The room was dark, and he could just make out Norrington’s form under the covers.
Jack stepped across the room and leaned over the bed. Norrington was snoring quietly, his mouth open. Once again Jack was treated to the sight of Norrington’s dark, disheveled hair, and his pale throat was exposed as well. Reaching out, he smoothed a hand through Norrington’s hair, pushing it back from his brow. Norrington stirred, but it was not until Jack slid that hand down his throat and under the collar of his nightshirt that he woke fully. His eyes snapped open and he attempted to pull himself into a sitting position, but Jack pushed him back down.
“Fear not, my dear Commodore,” he said. “I’ve no intention of hurting you. I’ve just come to make good on our last conversation.”
“And what makes you think I’ve had a change of heart, Sparrow?” Norrington asked, still struggling against Jack’s restraining hand.
“I wouldn’t precisely call it a change of heart . . . I think your heart’s been in the same place all along. Way I see it, it was more a matter of realizing that fact for yourself,” Jack said, leaning close to Norrington, whose entire body went stiff in response. “An epiphany, if you like.”
“Whatever you care to call it, I’m no closer to giving in to your damned indecency.”
“No?” Jack asked, “Then, tell me, why is it you leave the door to your servant’s entrance unlocked? It was scandalously easy to infiltrate your home, Commodore. Some might even take it as an invitation.” He punctuated the last word by letting his lips brush across Norrington’s in a promising fashion.
The man jerked again, almost desperately, the look in his eyes that of a wild thing caged. “I may have offered you my assistance once, Sparrow, but I won’t-” Norrington broke off, his eyes darting away as he tried to school his expression.
Jack moved his fingers idly over Norrington’s chest, pausing a moment to touch one of his nipples. A wonderful shiver ran through the tense body beneath him, and Jack couldn’t help but smile, savoring the warm tension between them. He swung one leg over Norrington and settled atop him before leaning close once more to speak his next words against Norrington’s mouth. “Would it be so bad? To give yourself over to what you know I can offer you?”
“I beg of you,” Norrington gasped, bucking against Jack’s weight. “Don’t do this.”
“How can you expect me to honor a request like that under circumstances such as these, mate?” Jack asked, sliding his hips against the other man’s and eliciting such a covetous moan it was a struggle to restrain himself at all.
“Because you are a good man.” His voice shook-with desire or something else, Jack could not be entirely sure-and his eyes had fallen shut.
“A good man, am I?” Jack murmured. “That seems to be a phrase that carries a lot of weight in these parts. Problem is, I’m not quite sure what being a good man entails.”
“A good man would not take what is not freely given.”
“Do good men do this?” Jack asked, and before the man could response he was kissing Norrington, tongue sweeping along the hot, sweet recesses of his mouth.
Norrington shuddered beneath him and one strong hand reached up to clasp Jack’s shoulder. It was a long moment before he said, “They do-sometimes.”
Jack applied his mouth next to that delicate expanse of throat, which caused Norrington to arch and strain against him, breath loud in his open mouth. “So you admit that the act is not wholly repellant to you,” he said between placing hot kisses along Norrington’s neck.
“Oh-Yes,” Norrington breathed, his hand tightening on Jack’s shoulder.
“And yet you try to tell me that you want no part in this? Despite the, may I say, very obvious indications to the contrary.” He ground their hips together for good measure.
“Please . . .” Norrington said, his voice barely audible. “Please understand. There are things a man can do, and things he can’t.”
“Let’s no play games now, Commodore,” Jack replied. “I don’t think either of us has any illusions that you’re incapable of performing the task at hand. And what’s more, I think you want it.” He scraped his teeth over Norrington’s skin. “Desperately.”
The breath Norrington drew sounded almost pained before he said, “I do-want it.”
The stark frankness of this admission caused Jack to pause his ministrations, sitting up to look Norrington in the face. He was handsome, to be sure, a faint color having risen to his cheeks, his dark eyes imploring.
“Come again?” Jack said, not quite believing his good luck.
“I-” Norrington sighed heavily. “I do desire this.” Now he glanced away, but his gaze returned to Jack eventually, as if he could not look away. “But I cannot take it.”
Jack’s first instinct was to argue, but Norrington fixed him with an expression of such longing that the words died on Jack’s lips.
It became clear now, the pleasant haze Jack had been operating under dissipating like morning mist. There were some things a man could do, and some things he simply couldn’t, no matter how much it might pain him. And whatever this particular man might want, he had secured this position for himself at too great a cost to ever dream of leaving it. It was a worse prison than one of iron, for James Norrington had caught himself in his own steadfast resolve, which, principled man that he was, he could never let go. It was a paradox Jack well understood. No man could mortgage his soul for a ship and not appreciate the weight of commitment to one’s ideals.
It might’ve been that Jack felt a spark of remorse then, although he largely thought himself incapable of regret. Whatever it was that stirred his heart, it caused him to close the distance between himself and Norrington once more, a hand sliding over his chest. That delicious, promising tension rippled through the muscles under his palm, and Jack breathed deeply of the hot smell of the man’s skin. “I see,” he whispered, their mouths once more dangerously close. “I’ll not ask again.”
He kissed Norrington briefly, tenderly, wishing, as he knew the other man did too, that things might be otherwise. But he knew it was a fool’s errand to hope so, and whatever else Jack fancied himself to be, he was no fool. This was one prize that neither of them were destined to win.
When Norrington said, “Thank you,” it was barely more than a breath of air that ghosted across Jack’s lips.
Jack extricated himself from Norrington’s grasp and stepped away from the bed, knowing full well that to linger overlong would be folly. The room was lightening, the sky outside the window a pale blue. Norrington sat up, watching Jack, the sheets bunched around his hips. “Now that I’ve retrieved my effects, I suppose it’s only fair that I return this to you,” he said, offering up the sword he’d received from Norrington at the beginning of this little adventure.
It seemed that the desperate longing had gone out of Norrington’s eyes, but there remained a tenderness that Jack suspected he would not soon forget. Norrington considered Jack for a moment before saying, “Keep it.”
“I thank you kindly for your hospitality, Commodore,” he said with courteous flourish of his wrist, to which Norrington responded with a small smile.
“You’re most welcome, Captain Sparrow.”
Jack answered Norrington’s smile with one of his one of his own before slipping out of the house without a sound. On the street, he put the townhouse to his back, turning his face to the sweet breeze that blew in off the bay. And as he made his way towards the harbor, and the Pearl beyond, the horizon began to turn a lush pink with the breaking day.
Title: Deliverence
Rating: R
Pairing: James Norrington/Jack Sparrow
Summary: Sequel to "The Crux of the Matter" and the end to the arc begun by "Atonement". Jack Sparrow comes to make good on his promise to Norrington.
Warnings: This takes place post-"Dead Man's Chest" and while it doesn't include explicit spoilers, it probably makes a lot more sense with that knowledge in hand.
I love falasama and her helpful beta ways.
Commodore Norrington had tightened security not at all since Jack Sparrow’s last break-in, a fact which pleased Jack to no end. The servant’s door at the back of the household was left on the latch, and it was a simple matter of not giving away his presence as he crept upstairs and entered the Commodore’s bedroom.
Jack was pleasantly drunk, having spent the last several hours at one of Port Royal’s most disreputable taverns. It didn’t hold a candle to Tortuga, of course, but he’d been in need of a way to pass the time until the opportune moment to arrive tonight.
When he eased open the door to the Commodore’s bedroom, Jack saw that his waiting had been worthwhile. The room was dark, and he could just make out Norrington’s form under the covers.
Jack stepped across the room and leaned over the bed. Norrington was snoring quietly, his mouth open. Once again Jack was treated to the sight of Norrington’s dark, disheveled hair, and his pale throat was exposed as well. Reaching out, he smoothed a hand through Norrington’s hair, pushing it back from his brow. Norrington stirred, but it was not until Jack slid that hand down his throat and under the collar of his nightshirt that he woke fully. His eyes snapped open and he attempted to pull himself into a sitting position, but Jack pushed him back down.
“Fear not, my dear Commodore,” he said. “I’ve no intention of hurting you. I’ve just come to make good on our last conversation.”
“And what makes you think I’ve had a change of heart, Sparrow?” Norrington asked, still struggling against Jack’s restraining hand.
“I wouldn’t precisely call it a change of heart . . . I think your heart’s been in the same place all along. Way I see it, it was more a matter of realizing that fact for yourself,” Jack said, leaning close to Norrington, whose entire body went stiff in response. “An epiphany, if you like.”
“Whatever you care to call it, I’m no closer to giving in to your damned indecency.”
“No?” Jack asked, “Then, tell me, why is it you leave the door to your servant’s entrance unlocked? It was scandalously easy to infiltrate your home, Commodore. Some might even take it as an invitation.” He punctuated the last word by letting his lips brush across Norrington’s in a promising fashion.
The man jerked again, almost desperately, the look in his eyes that of a wild thing caged. “I may have offered you my assistance once, Sparrow, but I won’t-” Norrington broke off, his eyes darting away as he tried to school his expression.
Jack moved his fingers idly over Norrington’s chest, pausing a moment to touch one of his nipples. A wonderful shiver ran through the tense body beneath him, and Jack couldn’t help but smile, savoring the warm tension between them. He swung one leg over Norrington and settled atop him before leaning close once more to speak his next words against Norrington’s mouth. “Would it be so bad? To give yourself over to what you know I can offer you?”
“I beg of you,” Norrington gasped, bucking against Jack’s weight. “Don’t do this.”
“How can you expect me to honor a request like that under circumstances such as these, mate?” Jack asked, sliding his hips against the other man’s and eliciting such a covetous moan it was a struggle to restrain himself at all.
“Because you are a good man.” His voice shook-with desire or something else, Jack could not be entirely sure-and his eyes had fallen shut.
“A good man, am I?” Jack murmured. “That seems to be a phrase that carries a lot of weight in these parts. Problem is, I’m not quite sure what being a good man entails.”
“A good man would not take what is not freely given.”
“Do good men do this?” Jack asked, and before the man could response he was kissing Norrington, tongue sweeping along the hot, sweet recesses of his mouth.
Norrington shuddered beneath him and one strong hand reached up to clasp Jack’s shoulder. It was a long moment before he said, “They do-sometimes.”
Jack applied his mouth next to that delicate expanse of throat, which caused Norrington to arch and strain against him, breath loud in his open mouth. “So you admit that the act is not wholly repellant to you,” he said between placing hot kisses along Norrington’s neck.
“Oh-Yes,” Norrington breathed, his hand tightening on Jack’s shoulder.
“And yet you try to tell me that you want no part in this? Despite the, may I say, very obvious indications to the contrary.” He ground their hips together for good measure.
“Please . . .” Norrington said, his voice barely audible. “Please understand. There are things a man can do, and things he can’t.”
“Let’s no play games now, Commodore,” Jack replied. “I don’t think either of us has any illusions that you’re incapable of performing the task at hand. And what’s more, I think you want it.” He scraped his teeth over Norrington’s skin. “Desperately.”
The breath Norrington drew sounded almost pained before he said, “I do-want it.”
The stark frankness of this admission caused Jack to pause his ministrations, sitting up to look Norrington in the face. He was handsome, to be sure, a faint color having risen to his cheeks, his dark eyes imploring.
“Come again?” Jack said, not quite believing his good luck.
“I-” Norrington sighed heavily. “I do desire this.” Now he glanced away, but his gaze returned to Jack eventually, as if he could not look away. “But I cannot take it.”
Jack’s first instinct was to argue, but Norrington fixed him with an expression of such longing that the words died on Jack’s lips.
It became clear now, the pleasant haze Jack had been operating under dissipating like morning mist. There were some things a man could do, and some things he simply couldn’t, no matter how much it might pain him. And whatever this particular man might want, he had secured this position for himself at too great a cost to ever dream of leaving it. It was a worse prison than one of iron, for James Norrington had caught himself in his own steadfast resolve, which, principled man that he was, he could never let go. It was a paradox Jack well understood. No man could mortgage his soul for a ship and not appreciate the weight of commitment to one’s ideals.
It might’ve been that Jack felt a spark of remorse then, although he largely thought himself incapable of regret. Whatever it was that stirred his heart, it caused him to close the distance between himself and Norrington once more, a hand sliding over his chest. That delicious, promising tension rippled through the muscles under his palm, and Jack breathed deeply of the hot smell of the man’s skin. “I see,” he whispered, their mouths once more dangerously close. “I’ll not ask again.”
He kissed Norrington briefly, tenderly, wishing, as he knew the other man did too, that things might be otherwise. But he knew it was a fool’s errand to hope so, and whatever else Jack fancied himself to be, he was no fool. This was one prize that neither of them were destined to win.
When Norrington said, “Thank you,” it was barely more than a breath of air that ghosted across Jack’s lips.
Jack extricated himself from Norrington’s grasp and stepped away from the bed, knowing full well that to linger overlong would be folly. The room was lightening, the sky outside the window a pale blue. Norrington sat up, watching Jack, the sheets bunched around his hips. “Now that I’ve retrieved my effects, I suppose it’s only fair that I return this to you,” he said, offering up the sword he’d received from Norrington at the beginning of this little adventure.
It seemed that the desperate longing had gone out of Norrington’s eyes, but there remained a tenderness that Jack suspected he would not soon forget. Norrington considered Jack for a moment before saying, “Keep it.”
“I thank you kindly for your hospitality, Commodore,” he said with courteous flourish of his wrist, to which Norrington responded with a small smile.
“You’re most welcome, Captain Sparrow.”
Jack answered Norrington’s smile with one of his one of his own before slipping out of the house without a sound. On the street, he put the townhouse to his back, turning his face to the sweet breeze that blew in off the bay. And as he made his way towards the harbor, and the Pearl beyond, the horizon began to turn a lush pink with the breaking day.