It was that natural sort of ecstasy that he had loved when the other was alive.
"James…" Jack laughed empty-heartedly, "It wasn't love. It couldn't have been love."
In truth, though, it could have been. But there were many things that weighed heavily on their minds that prevented it from being love. Social standing. Occupation…
But maybe…
"Maybe there wasn't that much holding us back, m'dear." Jack took a swallow of rum.
Fear.
"I was afraid of losing everything I ever wanted to gain you." Jack put the bottle down, practically slamming it onto the table. The bottle cracked; rum started to leak out of it. "Bloody hell – can't let any of that go to waste."
And he didn't. Within a matter of minutes, the rum was gone.
"It's gone. Pity, really. It's gone with all the other really good things I had."
Captain Barbosa, fallen dead to a mysterious illness. Foul play? Loneliness? "Doesn't matter now," Jack told himself over and over again. "He's gone."
Elizabeth Swann, gone ashore to raise William Turner III. "That was lust – she was female."
William Turner, Captain of the Flying Dutchman. "Sacrifices."
James Norrington, somewhere Jack longed to be, yet feared, for lack of a better word, almost as much as the notion that he would die without the love of another.
"Love," Jack finally admitted, "love it was."
Drunk, perhaps even a little beyond, Jack lay down on his bed.
"James…" Jack's voice wavered, the other's name burning his throat and vocal cords.
Jack allowed his body to go into a state of shock. Then again, between the rum, memories, and loneliness, Jack didn't have much of a choice.
His body shaking violently and overcome with sweat, Jack tried to keep flashbacks at bay.
"Jack."
"Yes, James?"
"Come to bed."
Jack raised a hand to the wall, desperately attempting to sit up.
It was a fight between two grown men – their tongues, at least. Lashing out, retreating, dancing, in a way; a fight in which there could never be a winner or loser.
The taller man wrapped an arm around the other man's waist, the other stretching across his back.
Jack sat up, his blank face betraying the pain he felt.
"Hold me closer." Jack pressed against James' body upon feeling the request for an embrace.
"I'll more that hold you," James whispered into Jack's hair, which tickled his nose, causing him to hold in a laugh.
Wishing unconsciousness on himself, Jack leaned against the wall, his head so wet with sweat that it could not grip the wall.
Sliding, Jack allowed his head to make contact with his headboard. Whether it hurt or not, he couldn't tell. Hell, he couldn't even care.
"Ah-AHH!" Jack screamed.
"Say when you want me to stop," James looked up at Jack, allowing his other knee to land on the ground.
"No, no stop…"
Jack stood up.
Knees weak and voice course, James moaned with pleasure again.
"More, Jack! More!"
Panting for breath, Jack nodded.
'No more…please, God…no more…' Jack pleaded, doubting more than ever that someone was listening.
"Jack…I...I…"
"What's wrong?" Jack asked, hiding his sudden panic best he could.
"I…" James panted, "I can't hold back much longer…"
Jack collapsed to his knees.
"Come inside me." Jack turned around to face the wall.
"I'm coming." James ran his hands down either of Jack's sides, drawing them together at his entrance.
"…stop it…" Jack whispered what was meant to be a scream.
Only moments before had James entered Jack, yet his ministrations were fluid and perfect.
"HARDER!" Jack cried in a whisper.
Jack had found his way back to bed.
Forcefully inside of Jack, the other man breathed deeply in time with his thrusts.
"Jack…" James moaned over Jack's moans and unclear yet satisfying words and phrases.
Hearing the Admiral's voice sound so vulnerable, so sweet, was too much for Jack.
Curled up in fetal position, Jack whimpered almost silently: "James…"
"James…I can't…never before in front of you…"
"Let go, Jack! LET GO!" the younger man rubbed Jack's cock as he thrust himself back in.
"love…" was all Jack could manage to say to the ceiling, his mind blending so much more together than that.
Jack let himself go, whit hot e "material," as the men called it, spurting over James' hands and onto Jack's legs and then the floor.
Fighting back the tears in his eyes, Jack let out a moan that turned into a scream that could have risen the dead had his vocal cords not given out.
The other man chuckled, wrapping his more available arm from Jack's waist to as high as he could reach, his fingers stroking Jack's collar bone.
Jack's body went limp, his heart slowing and his lungs failing him.
Knees weak and bodies spent, the men sank onto the floor.
This time Jack wrapped James in his arms. Closing their eyes, they smiled, Jack resting his head on James' chest.
These were his last moments alive, and Jack knew it. Alcohol poisoning. Loneliness. Depression. Love. Everything he had left to fear had done him in.
"I want to spend an eternity with you," Jack told James.
"I'll retire as soon as I can. It's three years away, though. But then we can spend an eternity together."
"Three years? It that all?"
"Nothing compared to an eternity, eh dear?"
"An eternity together to closer that I ever thought it would be, love. See you soon…"
With that Jack slipped away, leaving behind his body, taking with him the love he had, only minutes before, denied to be in existence.
