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Oblivion	By : EvilE Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (All) > Slash - Male/Male > Sparrington Views: 3332 -:- 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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Oblivion

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

Summary: During PotC:DMC. Sequel to “Decked.” A much-changed James still has the nerve to approach Jack Sparrow, with another nefarious bargain. This time, there's not much incentive forcing him to accept...

Pairing: J/J, implied J/E (yes, both)

Rating: MA, NC-17. Smut.

Words: 4100

A/N: As those who read “Decked” (featuring evil!Norry) know, I'm not really a romantic Sparrington shipper. If that's what you want, read something else. Thanks!

Captain Jack Sparrow was halfway through a bottle of rum. He needed more. A lot more. Or else, it was going to be a very long, very frustrating night; Elizabeth was tantalizingly out of reach, they were miles from port, and he was under a deadline with the Sea Devil himself, Davy Jones. Yes, a deplorable scenario all-around. And since things couldn't get any worse, Jack decided that getting completely, thoroughly drunk was the best solution. He was halfway there. But he needed more.

The door to his cabin opened unexpectedly, and he frowned. “Who the hell is it? Haven't you any - Oh, it's you,” he said as the commodore - ex-commodore, he reminded himself - had the gumption to enter his cabin without knocking. “What do you want?”

Jack looked him up and down, and still couldn't help feeling a little sorry for the man. He'd sobered up a good deal since the first night he'd spent on board, and cleaned up some, too. Sea water was good for that. Hadn't shaved, but the beard suited him, he thought. Then he almost laughed at himself. Him? Sorry, for Norrington? The man who'd chased him down relentlessly, making his life a living hell for over six months, until something had fixed him good. And of course - there was the 'incident' where Norrington had caught him. But that, Jack refused to think about. Or tried to refuse to think about, since he was now tripping over the ex-commodore rather frequently. James didn't answer, only shot him a knowing look and shut the door to the cabin, firmly.

“What?” Jack growled. “Go scrub the deck with that pompous wig of yours. Leave me alone.”

“Ever charming, aren't you, Sparrow?” James remarked in his smooth tenor, nonchalantly taking a seat across from Jack at the table.

“Anybody's charming compared to you, when you're flaying the fox like you were last night,” Jack snapped, reaching for his bottle. “Can I help you? Will you leave?”

“Happily. Just one thing, really. I was thinking about the last time we met-“

“I'll bet you were,” Jack growled. “Stop right there. We are not discussing this.”

James pursed his lips, then shrugged. “All right, then. Was just wondering if you had a spare bottle of rum tucked away somewhere. Someone seems to have nicked mine.”

“Wonder why? No, no extra rations for you. Forget it.”

“Are you always this polite? No wonder Elizabeth detests you. She does enjoy civil conversation, or hadn't you noticed?”

James then ducked as a large candlestick from the table was hurled at his head. “Get out,” was all Jack said.

“Touchy, aren't we? Come on. I have a proposition for you. Don't you even want to hear it?”

“I've had enough propositions from you to last me a lifetime, thank you.”

“Not this kind, you haven't.”

Jack glared at him, murderously. But he took a swig of his rum and set it down. “I'm listening. Talk quickly.”

“A barter, of sorts.” James pursed his lips, crossing his legs as he sat back in the chair.

“More quickly.”

“Patience is a virtue, Captain Sparrow.”

“So's candor. Your point?”

“It is plain to me that Elizabeth has captured your interest.”

“Not at all,” Jack said, looking back down at the table. “My interest in her is purely geographical. She can find what I need - end of story.”

“Oh, come now,” James replied. “I've seen the way you look at her. She's an exceptional woman.”

“Whether she is or whether she isn't, what's your point?”

“I've known her quite a long time. Notwithstanding my own failure to woo her, I have the ability to cast some light upon the mystery that is Elizabeth. Should you wish to know it, for whatever purposes you are interested in her.”

“What in the world could spur you to share the 'secrets' - “ Jack's deadpan expression conveyed his skepticism - “of our dear Miss Swann, with me?”

James smiled. “I thought you'd be interested in the bargain.”

“Didn't say I was interested,” Jack said, eyeing James's smile warily. “Just don't trust you at all.”

“Trust may be over-rated where parties can meet the needs of one another to mutual benefit.”

“An' just what needs - “ and Jack broke off, his eyes widening. “Oh, no. Not this again.”

“Whatever do you mean, Sparrow?”

“I know what you want.”

“You do?”

“Yes, and you're not getting it. That's done with.”

“Well, I didn't think you'd feel so strongly about it, since you indulge in it quite frequently, yourself.”

“I do not.”

“Nonsense, you're engaging in it as we speak.”

“I - what did you say?” Jack said, setting his bottle on the table.

James nodded to it. “Right there. So what's the problem with trading some drink, for some information?”

Jack swallowed. Get a hold of yourself, Sparrow. He's not the man in charge any more, not able to put you behind bars. For God's sake, you're the captain of this ship, and you're letting him send you into fits? Enough.

“Drink, is what you want,” Jack repeated, still looking at James suspiciously.

James smiled again, that mysterious, outwardly friendly, yet slightly devious smile. “What did you think I wanted?” Jack looked at him. He looked back. “I shall reveal to you as much as I know of the true Elizabeth, in exchange for that bottle.”

Jack frowned, clutching the bottle to his chest. “But it's me last bottle.”

“Well, then. If you're not willing to part with it, I'll be on my way. Good night.” James got up to go, and Jack rolled his eyes. He really ought to let him walk out of here, and go back to drinking himself stupid. Alone...

“A compromise,” Jack said, surprising himself. “I'll share it with you. In exchange for the information you've promised.”

James turned back around, his eyebrows raised. “The terms are acceptable.”

Jack nodded to the chair, his eyes narrowed. James sat. Jack thrust the bottle at him, watched as he lifted it to his lips, and took a long, steadying drink. James set it down, closed his eyes and sighed.

“Much better. So, where would you like me to begin?”

“At the beginning. What kind of a girl was she?”

“Hmmm.” James licked his lips, pondering the question. Jack stared. “A curious one. Always asking questions. Fascinated by pirates. Her father couldn't control her - she was always running off, vexing her governesses. Too smart for her own good.”

“Not to mention everybody else's,” Jack mumbled, swirling the rum in the bottle before drinking. “Go on.”

“As she matured, still odd. Still curious. Wanted to come on board when we were in port, and inspect the rigging and learn how the sails operated. Her father wouldn't permit it.”

“Wise man,” Jack said. He watched as James took the bottle again, lifted it. Drank. “Tell me... we'll come back to Elizabeth, but how exactly did you lose your commission?”

James nearly choked on the swig he had taken. “I don't want to discuss it.”

Jack's eyelids lowered to dark slits. “No more rum, until you tell me. I'd love to hear it.”

“I'll bet you would.” James regarded him with a newfound suspicion. “Sure you wouldn't rather hear about Miss Swann?”

“Not at the moment. I'm enjoying your downfall too much.”

“How kind. As a matter of fact, the hurricane that you rode the crest of, overtook us. The ship was lost. Many crewmen, too. I was decommissioned on the grounds of recklessly endangering those under my command.”

“So sorry to hear that,” Jack almost purred, taking another drink of rum. He held out the bottle. “Here. Perhaps this shall comfort you.”

James snatched it from him, glaring. “Thank you.” He took a long drink, and Jack watched as the man's Adam's apple bobbed with each gulp. Without even thinking about what he was doing, Jack rose from the chair and walked around the table to James, watching as he set the bottle down. “What?” James said, suddenly looking up to find Jack standing over him.

“I'll bet,” Jack said softly, his voice containing a dangerous thread, “I'll bet you are quite sorry you let me go when you had me, aren't you?”

James stared at him. Picked up the bottle. Drank. Cleared his throat. “In retrospect... yes. That decision was foolhardy.”

“So wouldn't it be, say, 'foolhardy' of me, to make the same mistake? Eh?”

“What do you mean?”

“You - Commodore, ex-Commodore - are on my ship, under my command, for the moment. Who knows when the wind may change, as it has for you? Wouldn't I be a damn fool,” and Jack leaned forward, pinning James between his arms as he leaned toward the table, “to let you escape alive, on the off-chance that you somehow regain favor, and come to pursue me again?”

Jack knew he was really drunk. Knew it, even as he breathed down into James' face, knew he could smell the liquor. He saw James take a deep breath, lean back to meet his eyes. His voice was still clipped, calm, with just the slightest note of excitement. “Not if I can be of use to you.”

“Ah, yes,” Jack said. “You're right.” He tapped James's nose with one finger. “So you've got thirty seconds to convince me of your usefulness to me. Or I'll toss you in the brig and you can rot there until I decide to kill you.”

“What?”

“Go. I'm counting.”

“Sparrow, be serious.”

“Oh, I am serious. Five. Six.”

James knocked Jack's arms from either side of him, and stood up crookedly. “If it's a fight you want, a fight you'll have, then.”

“Not convincing me, Norry. Ten. Eleven.”

“You're completely insane! I only wanted a drink!”

“Fourteen. Fifteen. Yes, completely mad. No surprises there, I don't think? Seventeen. Talk fast, James.”

James wet his lips. “I'll tell you everything I know about the Royal Navy's routes to catch pirates.”

“A start. Nineteen.”

“Everything I know about Turner... about Elizabeth.”

“Twenty-three.”

“What do you want me to - I'll help you. I'll help you get the Heart. I'm handy with a sword. You know that.”

Jack smiled, acknowledging with a tilt of his head. “Twenty-five.”

“What else is there? What can I possibly do? Other than Elizabeth, I haven't suspected what you want, I can't give it to you.”

“Think harder. Twenty-seven.”

James sighed, hung his head.

“Twenty-eight.”

James's head snapped up.

“Twenty-ni-“

“I'll help you - I can - I can help you forget her,” he said quietly, meeting Jack's intimidating gaze, his tone sharp as a steel blade.

Jack stopped counting. He raised his eyebrows. “Can you?” His expression, he was sure, radiated disbelief, but also hope. He took James by the shoulders. “Can you? Half a bottle of rum couldn't, and you think you can?”

“There are things a bottle can't do,” James answered, narrowing his eyes. “All the rum in the Caribbean can't make me forget the faces of the men I've lost.”

Jack purposefully set the bottle down on the table. Extended his arms and leaned his straightened elbows on James's shoulders, peering at him curiously. “Whatever form this promised oblivion may take, not a word, to anyone.”

“Agreed.”

“Just us, then?”

“Quite right.”

“All right.”

Jack stared down at James. At his dark beard, the hair gathered at his nape. The slightly haunted look in his sea-colored eyes. He felt somewhat ignorant of what was expected. The usual options presented themselves, of course, but Jack had never been fond of men as much as women. He'd been offered, of course, even encouraged, before. But he'd always bluffed his way out of it. Except with James. And now... what? He knew what to do with a woman. But James wasn't a woman. And neither was he.

“Lock the door,” said James ordered, the crispest command Jack had heard pass his lips since the last time they'd met.

The door. Of course. Jack withdrew his arms from James' shoulders and turned to walk toward the door. He latched it, and when he turned back, saw James had walked over to the bed. Sat down upon it. Removed his coat, tossing it aside. Kicked off his boots.

Intrigued, Jack strolled toward him, scooping up the rum from the table and taking another swig to steady his nerves. He watched as James began to unbutton his shirt. His breath caught.

“I don't fancy buggering. If that's what you thought,” Jack said hastily.

James scoffed, a smile splitting his chestnut beard. “Neither do I. You're 'special', remember?”

Jack did, however abashedly, remember. “Well, mate, what the hell does that mean?”

“Damned if I know,” James said, and grabbed the bottle from Jack's hand. He took a very long series of gulps, and set it aside. He reached for Jack's forearms, sliding his hands beneath his sleeves, and pulled him closer in a single tug, almost against his chest. But there he stopped, not looking up, as though he, too, were unsure how to proceed. He breathed unsteadily, turning his head to the side. Jack looked down, lifted a hand as though to catch James' hair, or his jaw, or his shoulder, now exposed by the open shirt, but then dropped the hand to his side. James raised a hand, also, to the small of Jack's back, pushing him closer by a few inches, and Jack allowed himself to be pushed. James's nose was level with his chest as he sat on the bed, and Jack stared down at him, feeling his head swim a bit with the rum.

Suddenly, James lifted off the bed, bringing his chin close to Jack's in a sweeping motion, his eyes closed, taking a deep breath. But he sank back down, in the same instant. He had been thinking of kissing him, Jack was sure. Now, he hesitated? The same man who demanded that Jack pleasure him in the process of debasing himself? Where was the confident commodore, now?

Decommissioned, Jack concluded. Demoted. Lost, at sea. Once again, he felt a little sorry for the man. He was a decent man, really, if a bit twisted. But who wasn't? Jack reached out a hand and succeeded in touching the back of James's head, then, just a palm, a gentle gift of support. What would it be like to kiss a man, he wondered. Elizabeth was not the only one afflicted with insatiable curiosity - Jack was a rather curious man, himself.

His hand fisted in James's hair of its own accord, and pulled his head backward. James looked up at him with something like surprise. Anticipation. And yet, Jack paused.

“Well?” James said, between slow, deep breaths.

“Well, what?”

“Well, are we going to proceed in our quest for oblivion, or are you going to stare at me all night?” James said, a hint of challenge in his dry tone.

“Patience, mate,” Jack said, still looking down at him, pensively. “Virtue, savvy?”

“Procrastination, is more like it.” James countered, staring at him.

“Deliberation.” Jack leaned closer, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

James nodded up at him, once, accusingly. “Hesitation.”

“Consideration. I'm thinking.” Jack bent closer, feeling James's hot breath against his beard.

“Prevarication,” James whispered. “You're making excuses.” As his lips moved, they brushed the edge of Jack's lip.

“Imagination,” Jack answered, his lips now against the ex-commodore's. “I'm thinking of the possibilities.”

There was a long second, like a silent moment at the edge of a precipice. The swaying, the leaning, the leaning back. The fall. Jack felt James's lips part at the same time he parted his, and warm lips met whiskers and then edges of tongues met warm lips, and more, and more, and it didn't occur to Jack to be bothered by kissing a man, because it was James, anyway, and James was different. James was decent, not dissolute. Tasted good. It was a thoroughly new experience, and Jack remembered, delighted, that he loved new experiences. Variety was the spice of life, after all.

More. Deeper. Longer. A man is different, Jack thought. Firmer mouth, stronger. The kiss not a softening, but a hardening. Hardening...

James tore his mouth away, gasping for breath. He slapped at Jack's chest with both palms, and the captain staggered backward a step. “This doesn't change anything,” James said, trying to keep his voice even.

“Not a thing,” Jack agreed with a lift of his brows, taking a step forward toward the bed.

“If I come across an opportunity to bring you down, pirate, I'm going to seize it.”

“Be my guest, mate.” Jack reached his previous position and rested his arms on James's shoulders, again.

“Don't call me 'mate'. I'm not your friend.”

“Would you prefer 'love', then?”

“Not if you want to live,” James growled, and with a tug and a shove upended Jack onto the bed, so that he was lying on his back and James rested on an elbow, beside him.

“What in blazing hell are we doing,” Jack said, and it was more of a statement than a question as the two men regarded each other.

“Forgetting,” James said crisply. “Close your eyes... and forget.”

Jack obediently shut his eyes.

In a moment he felt warm, sure hands at the base of his open collar, fingers brushing his chest as they unbuttoned his shirt. A hand slid inside, the palm hot and smooth on Jack's chest. It felt almost... familiar. As though he were touching himself. The palm slid downward in a smooth line, and Jack suppressed a shudder. He'd definitely had way too much rum, if men he hated were starting to affect him like this.

The hand was at his breeches now. Unfastening. He groaned, partially in desire, partially in embarrassment... how many times would James find out he'd made him hard? He swallowed his humiliation as the fastenings loosened completely and his swollen cock sprang free, into James's waiting hand.

Not so strange, Jack thought, feeling the fist slide over him easily. It was just like jerking off, after all... a man's hand, there, pumping him smoothly. Just as if he were doing it himself. He relaxed, lifting his elbows to fold his hands above his head. Forget, yes. Forget, and concentrate on jerking off... as if he had a third hand that was now at work on his throbbing cock, in addition to the two folded above his head on the pillow.. his thoughts descended into nonsense as he gave in to the feeling, relaxing enough to push back, to slowly fuck James's palm with a slight lift of his hips.

“Oh, yes,” Jack hissed before he could stop himself, his eyes opening as he realized he'd spoken aloud. There would be no pride left by the end of this. He might as well give it up immediately. He turned his head, and James was there, his eyes closed in concentration. Jack thought about kissing him again; more warm contact with another body... more of his mouth. Perhaps then he could imagine what it would feel like to have his mouth... there.

He was leaning in when James opened his hazel eyes and looked straight at him. Jack drew back. James sighed and glared at him with annoyance. “For Christ's sake, Sparrow. I'm not going to bite.”

“In that case, don't suppose I can convince you to put your mouth to better use?” Jack heard that his voice was unsteady. A harsh whisper, that rose and fell with the movement of the other man's hand on his cock. Too much, too far... too good to stop, now.

The hand stilled.

Jack held his breath. Would he...?

He would, it seemed, as Jack felt James's weight shift farther down on the bed. He watched in fascination as the other man sat up and leaned over his erect prick, looking down at it, glancing up at his face. He bent down. Breathed upon it. Jack's hips jerked off the bed.

“Beg me,” James said, looking up at Jack with eyes that were bright with mischief.

Jack laughed. “Go to hell.”

“Beg... me...nicely,” James breathed upon the tip of Jack's cock, causing it to twitch in anticipation.

“'Sblood, I'm going to kick your Navy ass all the way back to England,” Jack muttered.

“That's not very nice. Someone ought to teach you some manners.”

“Someone ought to teach you to shut up,” Jack said and reached down to catch the back of James's head. He felt his pinky brush the gathered ponytail. He seized it and pulled. “Do it.”

“Say, 'please',” James teased.

“Swear to God, if you don't get on with it I'm going to knock your teeth out and shove it in while you're passed out.”

James clicked his tongue. “So frightfully rude, you pirates.”

“So terribly dull, you... commodores,” Jack gasped as he felt the first hot, wet touch of a tongue to the underside of his cock. “All right, please. Please, please, please. Satisfied?”

Jack felt him laugh against the base. “You're so easily won,” he remarked, and Jack was torn between the desire to sock him and the desire to tell him to bugger off - realizing they need not be exclusive - when he felt the man's lips open around his head and his member was pulled inside.

“Christ Almighty,” he swore as he felt himself sink into James's hot, firm mouth. His beard brushed his sac and thighs before he lifted back up again. “I can take it farther than you can,” Jack couldn't resist taunting.

“Give me a moment, I'm warming up,” James said against the tip. “Not as practiced as you are,” he added before swallowing Jack's cock again.

“Like hell,” Jack murmured. “You 'spect me to believe you don't do this all the time? You're the daftest bugger I know.”

James let the head pop out of his mouth. “Coming from a mad pirate, that's saying quite a lot,” James replied.

Jack had to shut up, because he could no longer form words; James had to shut up, because his lips and tongue were occupied. And so it got very quiet except for the creaking of the boards and the sighing of the mattress as Jack lifted his hips to fuck the other man's mouth. He had been blowing smoke about taking it far, or not, or experience, or not, because he didn't want James to know just how thoroughly he was enjoying the moist pressure of his mouth. In fact... he was going to make him come. Sooner, rather than later.

Oh, the fucking irony of it.

His balls tightened. He groaned, and to his dismay James reached up to massage his sac, only heightening the sensation... bloody hell. Leave it to his sworn adversary to know every nuance of his body. It figured.

“Better shove off, unless you fancy a drink,” Jack panted, opening his eyes to look down. James lifted off, replacing his mouth with one hand, which slid deliciously over his now-wet prick. He began to pump faster.

“Already?” James said, and Jack glared daggers at him. But only for a moment, as the pressure and rhythm and friction was just too much and his head fell back as he felt his orgasm explode from beneath James's hand.

“Yes - fucking - already,” he gasped out, not caring where he was shooting to as he shuddered with the force of it. When the sensation faded, he opened his eyes, drowsily, to see James wiping his chin on his sleeve, an expression of restrained horror on his face. Jack stared for another moment, and then burst into laughter.

“You'd better shut up, Sparrow,” James muttered, turning away and stripping off his shirt.

Jack continued to laugh, even more. “Right on the fo'c'sle! Don't they teach you to... be careful where you... aim the cannon?” His chest shook as he laughed harder than he had in days, and he turned on his side, still laughing, to watch James march purposefully back toward the bed.

“You're going to pay for that, pirate,” he murmured, kneeling on the bed and falling with both hands on either side of Jack's shoulders, pushing him onto his back.

“Oh, right. What are you going to do?” Jack crossed his hands over his chest in mock submission. “Steal my heart?”

James furrowed his brows at him. “Go on and laugh. This isn't over. You'll see.”

Jack grinned. James glowered.

And if only for an evening, many things were forgotten.

------

A/N: Leave a review if you liked it, suggestions welcome! Still new to the Sparrington *thing*.
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Oblivion