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Decked	By : EvilE Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Slash - Male/Male > Sparrington Views: 5012 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own the Pirates of the Caribbean movie series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Decked

Disclaimer: Not stealing these characters, just borrowing... borrowing without permission. For personal, not commercial, purposes.

Captain Jack Sparrow hit the floor, face-first. It wasn't the first time - he'd fallen down drunk lots of times, slipped on the deck, tripped over assorted things, and so the actual hitting of the floor was not a surprise. But it was the first time he'd been knocked to the ground, face-first, by Commodore James Norrington. And while he knew it wouldn't be pleasant - far from it - if the Commodore ever actually did catch him, he expected that he'd be bored to death long before he began to fear the hangman's noose. In fact, if he were forced to share the Commodore's company for any lengthy period, the noose became a preferable option.

So it was a surprise that there was anything mildly interesting - violence, while distasteful, was at least a break from the monotony - about being captured by the Commodore. He had expected manacles, shackles, that grating whine prattling on about duty and rectitude, et cetera, et cetera, cut to the brig, end of story. End of Jack Sparrow. Till he could figure a way out.

And the last time was a close thing. Actually had his neck in the noose, then. Would have been in rather “deadly suspense” if it weren't for Will. He wondered if Will had managed to marry Elizabeth yet. But his two would-be friends faded from his mind as he pondered the other odd thing- other than the violence - about his capture so far, and it was that instead of being taken to the brig, he was shoved up the deck stairs and was now an officer's cabin. Norrington's, he presumed. What was he doing there? He was sure to be enlightened, soon, because after the commodore - or Norry, as Jack preferred to think of him - had collided his heel with Jack's back so hard that he nearly flew through the doorway to the cabin, the commodore in question marched through the entrance and closed the door, firmly, behind him.

It was evening, Jack observed through the window. So night had fallen while he'd been unconscious, after a bar fight of all things, and thanks to his dumb luck, Norrington happened to enter the bar at the precise moment someone swung a bottle of wine too close to Jack's head. He hadn't even had time to finish thinking Bugger when he'd blacked out. And woke up on the Dauntless. Getting to know its deck better and better, every second. He turned his nose from the wood, to see a man's shoe.

Then another. Jack turned his head to look up at Norrington as he peered down at him, an expression of distaste on his face.

“Hello, Sparrow,” Norrington droned.

“Polite to exchange salutations before blows, wouldn't you agree, Commodore?” Jack said, hearing his voice unusually scratchy and rough. Perhaps that was an after-effect of his windpipe's up-close-and-personal encounter with the floor.

“Sparrow, get up. On your feet.”

“Why, so you can knock me over again?”

“I had conversation foremost in mind, but I'm also happy to grant that last request.”

Jack pushed himself up on his elbows, and then sat on his knees. His hands weren't bound, he noticed, rubbing his wrists. Well, the Commodore must not think much of him, after all.

“Up.” The word was a short, crisp command. Jack obeyed, climbing unsteadily to his feet. He glanced over at the other man, who had turned away to light a lamp on the table. Same Norry, he thought. Still a complete stick. He took in the coat, the buttons, the shined shoes. Then he saw that his hair was brown, and he thought, why have I never noticed that before? Oh. Because of the stupid powdered wig he always wore. But he wasn't wearing it now, and Norrington's hair was gathered loosely into a short ponytail at his nape. His jaw was clean shaven, he saw, and he asked himself when the last time was that he himself had sported a clean jaw. Years ago... although he and the Commodore weren't that far removed in age.

“What's on your mind, Commodore? If this is jus' a friendly chat, I'll have to raise my objection to being kicked through the doorway. Thought you proper Brits had better manners.”

“Manners? Yes,” Norry said, with a lift of one brow. “However, manners do not preclude certain other things.”

“Such as?”

“Vindication.” Norrington looked Jack up and down, from scarf to boots. “You owe the Navy a ship. And you owe me a fiancé.”

“I'd have to say that Turner owes you the girl. For now. But I'll cede you the ship.”

“Oh, but if it weren't for your miraculous intervention in their lives, I'd have married the delightful Miss Swann. I could be married to her right now.”

“Correction - if it weren't for my miraculous intervention, Miss Swann would have drowned, before insisting that she was not, in fact, going to marry you anyway.”

Norrington gave Jack's shoulders a hard shove, and he fell backward, into, and then over, a chair, which overturned and toppled him back onto the floor.

“Do sit down.”

“You know, Norry - “ Jack rubbed his bottom with one hand as he set the chair to rights and settled into it. “-you're reversing that words, action order again. Habit's beginning to vex me.”

“I'd have a care what I said, if I were you,” Norry said, a steely edge entering his voice. “You're talking to the man who holds the key to your liberty. Do you realize that?”

Jack blinked at him. “Forgive me. Can I go?”

“No.”

“What do you want?”

“What do I want?” Norrington mused, clasping his hands behind his back and strolling toward the window. “What do I want, indeed? Well, I thought I wanted to lock you up and watch you hang. And I do want that. But I'm suddenly overcome with curiosity, and I think that you are going to help me rectify that.”

“What kind of curiosity?” Jack asked. “Simple? Morbid?”

“The latter, I fear. At least on your part. No - no, on mine as well. Definitely morbid. Would you like to know why?”

“If I said no, I'd bet my knickers you'd keep talking anyway.”

“Over these last two months, as I've chased you hither and thither across the Spanish Main, and heard legends - larger than life, I'm positive - of your daring, your cunning, your sheer brassy arrogance - I began to wonder about you. Two things struck me as I learned as much as I could about you, my prey. One, Jack Sparrow values his freedom. It drives him. He'll pursue it relentlessly, just as I pursue him.”

“That's touching, mate,” Jack retorted, his voice dripping sarcasm.

“Second, Jack Sparrow is a proud man. Always needs his title. Always puts down others. Always thinks highly of himself and his own abilities in a given situation. And it started me wondering: if Jack Sparrow had to choose between his pride and his liberty, which would he choose?”

Jack swallowed nervously. “Why do I get the feeling I'm about to be placed in this little experiment?”

“Because you are.” Norrington turned to face him. “You're in this experiment right now.”

“Can I opt out?”

“By making a simple choice.” Norrington walked over to him, and met his eyes. Jack saw they were clear, calculating, but also warm... had he been drinking?

“All right, what's me choice? If it's ale or rum, I'll take the rum - but you knew that, didn't you?”

“The choice is as follows,” Norry said. “You may submit to being clapped in irons, taken to the brig, remanded to Port Royal for sentencing, and hanged. Or, you may walk out of here this very evening.”

“Why do I smell a catch?”

“In order to walk out - and in so doing, claim your liberty - you will be required to debase yourself utterly.”

“Some would say I do that frequently,” Jack said, eyeing the Commodore suspiciously as he moved deliberately across the cabin towards Jack. “So you're going to have to be a bit more specific.”

Norrington stopped a foot in front of Jack's face, held his eye, and smiled.

“You better not be thinking what I'm thinking you're thinking,” Jack said hurriedly, feeling his lungs constrict. “Because that would make you the biggest pervert the Navy's ever seen.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that,” Norrington continued, his smile continuing to lift the corners of his lips without reaching his eyes. “You see, I'm not interested in that kind of behavior, generally speaking.”

“Well, neither am I, so let's drink to that, shall we?” Jack said with a shake of his chest. “And I'll be on my way.”

“But for you, Sparrow... I find myself prepared to make an exception.”

“I suppose I should be flattered. I'm not.”

“Flattered - or not - those are the terms of the bargain.” Norrington's arm shot out, then, and he grasped Jack's chin between his thumb and forefinger, bringing the pad of his thumb up to crush Jack's lip against his teeth. “And since you're always shooting off that mouth of yours, Sparrow, I'd say that makes it a perfect instrument for this endeavor, wouldn't you agree?”

“Given the other option-“ Jack said, his words muffled by Norry's thumb, “at first thought it seems less painful, certainly. Not that I've agreed to anything. Yet.”

“Oh.” Norrington let his hand fall in mock deference. “I'm sorry. Is it to be irons and the brig, after all? Shame to let your Pearl sail away when you'd just got it back. And I daresay Turner will be a bit too busy to stage another dramatic rescue, what with all his wedding preparations.”

Jack ground his teeth together, and he knew Norrington heard, because he smiled again. Jack's stomach was beginning to flutter, now, as he realized that he was probably going to have to give in to Norry's demands. He'd managed to hit upon the one thing Jack would, in fact, sacrifice anything to preserve: his freedom. What was simple dignity, in comparison - what he had left, after that kick to the back.

“So when I'm finished - how did you put it? - debasing myself, as it were, what guarantee do I have that you'll set me free?”

“You have my word. And while I can hardly say the same of you, I can assure you that my word is to be trusted.”

Jack regarded him for a moment in the lamplight. He had him, this time. No getting out of it. Norrington looked back at him, the amused smile back on his lips.

“All right,” Jack told him with saucy disdain. “Let's see what you've got, then.”

“On your knees.”

“You perverted git,” Jack said as he knelt, slowly, first on one knee, then the other. “You've had this planned.”

“Perhaps.”

Jack was brought face to face with Norry's trouser buttons, and a fairly sizable bulge already protruding behind them. “Weapon always at the ready, eh, Commodore?”

“With you around, Sparrow, anything else would be ill-advised. Unbutton.”

Jack reached for the small brass buttons with one calloused, brown hand, undoing them one at a time. “I'm warning you, if you've got some kind of pox or funny spots, all bets are off.”

To his surprise, Norrington almost chuckled. “Whores are your style, not mine.”

“Suppose I'm just special, then.”

“That's one way of...” and his reply broke off in a silent intake of breath as Jack's hand wrapped around his cock, bringing him out of his trousers.

“Oh, good, you shut up. That'll make it more palatable, as it were,” Jack quipped as he looked at the very erect cock he held in his hand.

“I wonder what it'll take to quiet you, eh, Jack? Oh, that's right. This. Even you can't continue talking with your mouth full. I don't know what I'll enjoy more - the physical release or the knowledge that I finally managed to shut you up.”

Jack paused, still looking at the swollen head of Norrington's admittedly clean, straight prick in front of his nose. “Well - honestly, I can't say this is the weirdest thing I've ever done.”

“But I wager it'll be the quietest.”

“Possibly. Only fair to warn you, I haven't ever done this before.”

“Oh, come now, I'm your first? How intriguing. Get on with it.”

Jack held his breath, moved close enough to brush Norrington's prick with his nose, and then felt a sudden twinge of nausea and pulled back. Another man's cock! It was totally unthinkable. But so were those irons. And that noose. He squeezed the base of James's prick, slowly stroking up and down while he garnered his courage. Had he just thought of him as James? Well, he supposed they were better acquainted, now.

“Onward, Sparrow,” came the command from above. “I'm waiting.”

“Yeah, yeah, keep your shirt on. I'm getting there.”

“Don't delay, Sparrow. It's unbecoming in this particular scenario.”

“Listen, you may as well call me Jack. Since you leave out the 'Captain' anyway, I'd rather not have my last name bandied about.”

“Well- Jack - move along,” James ordered in a firm, flinty tone.

Jack sighed. He closed his eyes. Then he felt James's hand on the back of his head, pushing him forward, ever closer to the penis. He didn't open his eyes, but allowed himself to be guided to it, and kept his eyes closed when he felt the smooth skin against his lips. He was startled. Was his own head that smooth? Couldn't recall. And he'd certainly never gotten his mouth around it, no matter how many times he'd tried, the human body just didn't bend that way... pity.

Hot. Smooth. Masculine. James's head was pulsing as it slipped between Jack's lips, and he heard a low groan from the commodore as he slowly, slowly inched his way down - or was it up? - James's cock.

A loud hiss, then, as he reached the bottom. No one was more surprised than Jack that he'd been able to swallow the whole thing. Who knew? Another hidden talent. And James drew his hips back as Jack leaned his head back and then they met in the middle again as his lips came to brush the dark, softly curling hair at the base. Another soft groan from James, this one a little less controlled. A little more pleading.

It was then that Jack realized he was hard. His eyes blinked open in shock. He was hard? For this? From this? Couldn't be, couldn't be, just finish the job and go free... and he redoubled his efforts with his mouth, bringing up a hand to wrap two fingers around the base, and squeeze, as he glided over the rest of it, repeatedly, earning more groans and partial thrusts from James, who he suspected was exerting an inordinate amount of control to keep from pounding senselessly into his mouth.

Denial was no good. Because his pants were hurting him. And Jack took his other hand and reached down to unfasten his own trousers as quickly as possible - hoping to God Norry wouldn't notice, because wouldn't that just up the humiliation factor about tenfold - and reached in to palm himself, expertly, stroking down his own length in time to his motions on James's now-oozing member. Which got him to thinking...

“You'd better warn me before you shoot off, James, or I'll bite it off, savvy?”

“All right,” said James in a whisper, the least controlled Jack had ever heard him sound. Jack continued to stroke himself and James at the same time, without returning his lips. When he speeded up, James groaned aloud.

“Stop... I... this isn't... the agreement.”

Jack sniffed. “What, I'm not allowed to use my hands?” And he was surprised at how ragged his voice sounded, how throaty, how... intimate.

“Stop jerking yourself off and finish me,” James managed to get out, and Jack saw he had opened his eyes and was looking down to see what was going on.

Caught. Well, there went that. To hell with pride, anyway, Jack decided, at least tonight. Desperate times, desperate measures... wasn't that how the world worked? And he returned to swallow James's cock again, as much and as deep and as fast as he could, and found a solid, satisfying rhythm with both his hand and his mouth, and the next thing he knew James was moaning on every stroke, then holding his head with both hands, pressing down so far Jack thought he would gag - surprised that he hadn't gagged yet, in fact - and then his head was being quickly yanked up and away by two warm, trembling hands.

A long, tremulous groan from between firmly clenched teeth.

And James's cock popped out of his mouth just as an impressive shot of liquid burst from the top and arced through the air before landing with a splap on the floor, followed by two others which dripped, and Jack thought that he now knew the deck of the Dauntless better than anyone ever hoped to, he was sure.

And then Jack leaned back against the chair and closed his eyes, pumping furiously on his own aching member, not sure if James was watching and not caring, either, and in a moment he was coming, too, not as impressively as James, but good enough, good, really good, in fact, and he sank forward afterward, nearly leaning onto the floor before he remembered what was on the floor and jerked upright. The he opened his eyes.

James was indeed watching, morbid fascination written on his face. Well, fine.

Jack stuffed himself inside his pants and weakly rose to his feet with the aid of the chair. He didn't meet James's eyes. Would he ever be able to meet his eyes, after this? Provided he ever saw him again, which he could always hope against hope would never happen.

“Can I go?” was all he said in a defeated voice.

“You may go, Sparrow,” Norrington said, twisting the last of his breech buttons into place. “You've answered my question most thoroughly.”

“Back to 'Sparrow' now, is it?”

“From this day forward.” Norry strode purposefully toward the cabin door, opened it, and just as Jack was walking through, dragging his wrist across his open mouth, he leaned in to say to Jack, “Stay out of trouble, pirate. Next time... I'll make you swallow it.”

Jack's eyes widened. “I'll be good.”

“See that you are.”

And as Jack walked crookedly down the deck stairs of the Dauntless, he shook his head to clear it. So he'd humbled himself for his freedom. That was the choice he had, and he took it. And there was no shame in doing what was necessary to preserve liberty.

Then he grimaced. But he definitely shouldn't have enjoyed it. Not even a little.

A/N: If you liked, review! Suggestions welcome. See also the sequel, "Oblivion", set during DMC.
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Decked