Chapter Ten
A/N: the last chapter sorta sucked- I'm sorry- but the idea was there, and I had to get it out before I left for camp.
A/N: This chapter is R-rated, if anyone cares- it contains a sex scene described in rather poetic terms, so...
It was late night on The Black Pearl; everyone slept, lulled by the gentle rocking of the waves. Everyone, that is, but Finnbarr Robeson. He was not restless, nor plagued by nightmares, he simply did not feel like sleeping. He snorted through his nose- it was hot out. In one deft motion he shucked his loose, sea-stained shirt. He sat alone on the deck, his trim figure illuminated by the silvery moonlight. Broad shoulders, wiry arms, an average waist. Everything had an ethereal look about it- the ship danced with silver reflections from the water. Finn looked up at the velvet canopy that was the sky, and examined the stars. Never were the stars so beautiful as at sea, he thought. He had always thought so, and never ceased to marvel at them. As he looked, he started to sing to himself, his clear tenor cutting through the warm night air of the Caribbean.
"Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme Remember me to one who lives there She once was a true love of mine.
Tell her to make me a cambric shirt Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme With stitches close, and something sum-something Then she'll be a true love of mine
Tell her to something I don't know the rest Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme..."
He trailed off- he coudn't remember how the rest of the song went.
He recalled when he had first heard it- They had been sailing just of the coast of England when he had heard the strains of music.
"Whassat, Da?"
"That, lad, is an ol' English song. Name o' Scarborough Fair. 'S a love song- right pretty 'un too."
"Where's Scarbow Fair?"
"Scarborough, no' Scarbow. An' I doon rightly know. Mebbe 's jus' an invention- no' really a place 't all."
"If'n ye lif' me up, can I see it?"
"See wot?" "Scarbow- neh- Scarborough Fair."
"Well, we'll see, aye?"
With that he hoisted his son above his head, grunting with pretended effort. Finn could still recall the feeling of firm calloused hands on his waist. He gazed for the first time at the country of England. A shadow of rain cloud hung near the western shore, dark forest and wild moors dotted the landscape where there were no cities. Gray and green and the lavender of heather was England, nothing compared to Ireland, his home, but still lovely in its own right.
As Finn remembered that day, he once again felt the firm grip of weathered, calloused hands snaking about his waist. He smiled and looked around
"Jack."
"Ye 'ave a lovely singing voice, love."
"D' I wake ye?"
"Neh. By th' way, ye 'ave a lovely figure 's well."
Finn grinned wolfishly. He stood up and embraced Jack.
"Oh, I could say th' same t'ye, savvy?"
Jack looked at him warningly
"'S my word, love."
"O' course 'tis. Siddown, lover boy."
Jack immediately collapsed into a relaxed sitting position, legs splayed out, leaning back on his elbows.
"'S 'ot out 'ere."
With that he slid his shirt over his head, baring a well-tanned and well- muscled chest, graced by the scars of old battles. Finn looked Jack up and down appreciatively. He didn't ask about the scars, he had enough of his own not to bother.
"Cummere.... Cap'n Sparrow."
Jack bent and kissed Finn tenderly on the lips
"That's Jack t'ye, love."
"Mmph."
Finn reply was muffled as he nuzzled himself against Jacks neck, planting kisses here and there, licking the sweaty skin tantalizingly, sometimes nipping slightly. It was sufficient to convey his message to Jack.
"Y'sure 's wot ye want, love?"
"O' course I'm sure- I've been waitin' long enough."
"Indeed." Said Jack in a perfect imitation of Norrington. Finnbarr recognized the voice, having met with the good commodore on several occasions himself. He snorted with laughter. Jack grinned- his classic, seductive, smug-cat smile. Finn couldn't hold himself back any longer.
He ran his hand lightly down Jacks chest- memorizing the contours of it- the scars, the muscles, everything that made it different from the chest of any other man on earth.
Jack shivered with pleasure; he could feel his pants beginning to strain with the beginnings of arousal; he groaned.
"Ye feelin' wot I'm feelin' at th' momen', love?"
"Aye, I think so, Jack Sparrow."
Finn drew Jack into a kiss, which slowly grew in heat and passion until they were both flat on the deck, caressing each others bare chests.
Jack was in his element. He slowly broke away and trailed his tongue down Finns neck, suckling and teasing. With his hands he massaged Finns back, as Finn relaxed into his arms; he ground his hips into those of his lover. The resultant moan was like water after weeks of a starving belly and thirst.
Somehow, Finn was not quite sure how, they both ended up stark naked, the sheen of love-sweat on both their bodies reflecting the starlight.
Jack was on top of Finn now, inside him, and Finn thought he had never known anything better than this haze of intense joyheatlove. Scrambled thoughts chased themselves round in his head. 'Jack. Kissing-loving Jack. In Jack. Am Jack. Smells so sweet- perfect, lovely. Need want have forever and a day. Stars. Jacks eyes are better than the stars.'
Jack was trembling with exertion and passion and need for this to continue. He bent down for a moment, brushing Finns lips with and oddly chaste kiss. Finn grinned, panting.
"Tha's- Tha's no' how... Cap- Cap'n Jack- my Cap'n Jack Sparrow kisses, 's it now?"
He seized the back of Jacks neck and made a conquest of his sweet, rum- smelling mouth. He bucked his hips upward, meeting Jacks, causing a blaze of passionneedlust to race its way through both their bodies.
Jack thrust himself deeper into Finn, letting loose a shrill cry from somewhere far within Finn.
"Jack!"
He drove himself on, sounds escaping his lips- he couldn't tell if they were words or just sounds of indescribable passion and love. He could vaguely feel Finns hands clutching at his hips. He knew he'd have bruises tomorrow, and he knew he'd treasure them.
"C'mon Jack... you bastard- harder!"
Jack willingly complied.
A/N: the last chapter sorta sucked- I'm sorry- but the idea was there, and I had to get it out before I left for camp.
A/N: This chapter is R-rated, if anyone cares- it contains a sex scene described in rather poetic terms, so...
It was late night on The Black Pearl; everyone slept, lulled by the gentle rocking of the waves. Everyone, that is, but Finnbarr Robeson. He was not restless, nor plagued by nightmares, he simply did not feel like sleeping. He snorted through his nose- it was hot out. In one deft motion he shucked his loose, sea-stained shirt. He sat alone on the deck, his trim figure illuminated by the silvery moonlight. Broad shoulders, wiry arms, an average waist. Everything had an ethereal look about it- the ship danced with silver reflections from the water. Finn looked up at the velvet canopy that was the sky, and examined the stars. Never were the stars so beautiful as at sea, he thought. He had always thought so, and never ceased to marvel at them. As he looked, he started to sing to himself, his clear tenor cutting through the warm night air of the Caribbean.
"Are you going to Scarborough Fair? Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme Remember me to one who lives there She once was a true love of mine.
Tell her to make me a cambric shirt Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme With stitches close, and something sum-something Then she'll be a true love of mine
Tell her to something I don't know the rest Parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme..."
He trailed off- he coudn't remember how the rest of the song went.
He recalled when he had first heard it- They had been sailing just of the coast of England when he had heard the strains of music.
"Whassat, Da?"
"That, lad, is an ol' English song. Name o' Scarborough Fair. 'S a love song- right pretty 'un too."
"Where's Scarbow Fair?"
"Scarborough, no' Scarbow. An' I doon rightly know. Mebbe 's jus' an invention- no' really a place 't all."
"If'n ye lif' me up, can I see it?"
"See wot?" "Scarbow- neh- Scarborough Fair."
"Well, we'll see, aye?"
With that he hoisted his son above his head, grunting with pretended effort. Finn could still recall the feeling of firm calloused hands on his waist. He gazed for the first time at the country of England. A shadow of rain cloud hung near the western shore, dark forest and wild moors dotted the landscape where there were no cities. Gray and green and the lavender of heather was England, nothing compared to Ireland, his home, but still lovely in its own right.
As Finn remembered that day, he once again felt the firm grip of weathered, calloused hands snaking about his waist. He smiled and looked around
"Jack."
"Ye 'ave a lovely singing voice, love."
"D' I wake ye?"
"Neh. By th' way, ye 'ave a lovely figure 's well."
Finn grinned wolfishly. He stood up and embraced Jack.
"Oh, I could say th' same t'ye, savvy?"
Jack looked at him warningly
"'S my word, love."
"O' course 'tis. Siddown, lover boy."
Jack immediately collapsed into a relaxed sitting position, legs splayed out, leaning back on his elbows.
"'S 'ot out 'ere."
With that he slid his shirt over his head, baring a well-tanned and well- muscled chest, graced by the scars of old battles. Finn looked Jack up and down appreciatively. He didn't ask about the scars, he had enough of his own not to bother.
"Cummere.... Cap'n Sparrow."
Jack bent and kissed Finn tenderly on the lips
"That's Jack t'ye, love."
"Mmph."
Finn reply was muffled as he nuzzled himself against Jacks neck, planting kisses here and there, licking the sweaty skin tantalizingly, sometimes nipping slightly. It was sufficient to convey his message to Jack.
"Y'sure 's wot ye want, love?"
"O' course I'm sure- I've been waitin' long enough."
"Indeed." Said Jack in a perfect imitation of Norrington. Finnbarr recognized the voice, having met with the good commodore on several occasions himself. He snorted with laughter. Jack grinned- his classic, seductive, smug-cat smile. Finn couldn't hold himself back any longer.
He ran his hand lightly down Jacks chest- memorizing the contours of it- the scars, the muscles, everything that made it different from the chest of any other man on earth.
Jack shivered with pleasure; he could feel his pants beginning to strain with the beginnings of arousal; he groaned.
"Ye feelin' wot I'm feelin' at th' momen', love?"
"Aye, I think so, Jack Sparrow."
Finn drew Jack into a kiss, which slowly grew in heat and passion until they were both flat on the deck, caressing each others bare chests.
Jack was in his element. He slowly broke away and trailed his tongue down Finns neck, suckling and teasing. With his hands he massaged Finns back, as Finn relaxed into his arms; he ground his hips into those of his lover. The resultant moan was like water after weeks of a starving belly and thirst.
Somehow, Finn was not quite sure how, they both ended up stark naked, the sheen of love-sweat on both their bodies reflecting the starlight.
Jack was on top of Finn now, inside him, and Finn thought he had never known anything better than this haze of intense joyheatlove. Scrambled thoughts chased themselves round in his head. 'Jack. Kissing-loving Jack. In Jack. Am Jack. Smells so sweet- perfect, lovely. Need want have forever and a day. Stars. Jacks eyes are better than the stars.'
Jack was trembling with exertion and passion and need for this to continue. He bent down for a moment, brushing Finns lips with and oddly chaste kiss. Finn grinned, panting.
"Tha's- Tha's no' how... Cap- Cap'n Jack- my Cap'n Jack Sparrow kisses, 's it now?"
He seized the back of Jacks neck and made a conquest of his sweet, rum- smelling mouth. He bucked his hips upward, meeting Jacks, causing a blaze of passionneedlust to race its way through both their bodies.
Jack thrust himself deeper into Finn, letting loose a shrill cry from somewhere far within Finn.
"Jack!"
He drove himself on, sounds escaping his lips- he couldn't tell if they were words or just sounds of indescribable passion and love. He could vaguely feel Finns hands clutching at his hips. He knew he'd have bruises tomorrow, and he knew he'd treasure them.
"C'mon Jack... you bastard- harder!"
Jack willingly complied.