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An Answer of Doubt- Part 9

Jack folded the letter and placed it in a drawer of the desk. He stood, walked to James' right side, and offeredhim a hand up.James took it and stood. Jack let go ofhis hand but stayed, looking into James' eyes.

Reflecting in lamplight from the desk, Jack's eyes were nearly black. His pupils were huge. They were so close James could feel the heat of Jack's body. Jack was waiting for him, waiting to be touched, waiting to be kissed, or waiting for James to break the spell, to look away, to say something insignificant or meaningful, a joke, a declaration, a question, an oath.

James did not look away. He did not speak. Seconds stretched into minutes. Minutes fell away into eternity. He only waited to see what Jack would do, if he continued to do nothing. How long could either of them wait? How long before the silence and the proximity were too great to bear?

On the other hand, what if he did touch Jack right now, after having made him wait so long? What would happen then? Would Jack tear his breeches off with his teeth? Use him for his pleasure? Would touching Jack now be the only permission Jack required? Was that what he wanted Jack to do, to push him down and climb on top of him, as Jack had done that night in Port Royal, and so many nights since, if only in James' dreams?

James' right hand seemed to move of its own accord. It brushed very lightly over the back of Jack's left hand. A second later, Jack's right hand brushed James' left in a similar fashion. The touches of skin on skin were electric. James gasped, but did not pull away.

James slid his hand up over Jack's sleeve to his elbow, then to his shoulder. Jack did the same. James lifted his left hand to Jack's cheek, and felt Jack's left hand on his own cheek. James closed his eyes and pushed his face into that heated touch, and felt Jack push into his hand. He brought his right hand to Jack's face and moved forward ever so slightly. Jack closed the distance between them. James slid his lips over Jack's face and found Jack's mouth with his mouth, Jack's tongue with his tongue.

James opened his eyes. Jack had not closed his. James' tongue ran over Jack's teeth, explored the roof of his mouth, his gums, the insides of his cheeks, the underside of Jack's tongue. James drew back from the kiss and ran his thumb over Jack's lips. James reached down, pulling to untuck Jack's shirt, then drew the shirt over Jack's head and hands. James set the shirt across the back of the chair he had been sitting on at the desk, then turned back to Jack. He ran his fingertips down skin, along scars, and over ink, brushing over hard tanned nipples and soft underarm hair, mapping contours and textures, muscle here and rib there. "Beautiful," James whispered more to God, than to himself or Jack.

He slipped his arms around Jack stepping forward into the embrace. His hand felt the skin of Jack's back, pausing to explore irregularities and other points of interest. Jack's hands stroked his back lightly throughout, ever careful of his injury. James took a step back. Jack's hands slid down to James' hips. James' hands went to Jack's laces. James paused there for a moment then met Jack's gaze. "May I?" Jack maintained eye contact as his hands slid around to James' laces.

"Please do."

James undid Jack's laces and felt his own coming undone.

"Sit on the bed for me, Jack."

Jack did. James pulled off Jack's boots.

"Your turn."

They switched and Jack pulled off James' boots. James slid further back onto the bed, then reclined.

"On or off, James?"

"Off."

Jack grabbed the hems of James breeches and slid them off. Then pulled his own off, and climbed onto the bed next to James. James rolled onto his elbow and stroked his fingers down Jack's chest, over his stomach, down through Jack's pubic hair, up the shaft of his cock, over the head. Jack's fingers repeated the journey over James.

"Do you want me, Jack?"

"You know I do."

"You'll have to show me everything, then."

"How much experience do you have with men, James?"

"Not including with you? Just a kiss."

He almost hanged for a kiss! Jack felt something colder than hate stir in his blood, something he knew could only be killed with a stiff dose of revenge. At the same time, he was ridiculously grateful for James that only a kiss had been perverted into an act of betrayal.

"And women?"

"Not many, and not for a very long time."

"It's mostly the same, James. It's all just flesh, love."

Jack climbed onto James, pinning their cocks between their bodies. Jack pressed himself against James, hands wrapping in his hair. Jack's tongue licked the sweat from James' cheek, teased at his lips, pushed past his teeth, invading James' mouth at last. Jack slid against him making James moan into his mouth. James found he could not help himself from pressing his hips upward to increase the delicious pressure and friction of Jack's thrusting.

From there, their alternatingthrusts built a rhythm, becoming all the more frantic and needy. Their thrusts were hard and fast now. They could not kiss. They simply clinged to each other, holding each other with their eyes, wide and wild and hungry for release. James body spasmed painfully as he spilled the overflow of his hot wet pleasure. Jack stopped to gather him upto kiss him now deeply and passionately. Then started to thrust slowly again, adding to the heat and stickiness between them. After a time, James returned the kiss, stoking fingers against Jack's face and neck and shoulders.

"How does your back feel, love?"

Norrington smiled, "I am sure it probably hurts, but can't feel it."

"We've made a right mess out of your bandages."

Jack kissed James gently and climbed off of him, out of bed. James heard a rag wringing, then felt cold water rubbed over his skin.

"Sit up for me, love." James did, but quite nearly fell over again. His body did not want to cooperate in anything so complicated.

Jack removed the much abused bandage. Jack scooted around him to look at the injury.

"Bugger."

"Opened it up again, did we."

"Pulled the stitches a bit, is all."

Jack dabbed some rum and wrapped him up again.

"Tired, James?"

"Not so awfully."

"Will you do something for me."

"If I can."

Jack dug around in the desk and pulled out a small sketchbook and charcoal. He sat beside James on the bed.

"Describe him to me."

James did not bother to ask who, because he knew.

"Dark eyes and dark hair. He doesn't wear a wig. Ties it back as Will does. Prominent cheeks, thinner lips than yours. Less of a jaw. About the same height. Slighter build. Less muscle. Younger, late twenties I would guess. Not that I would guess you were forty, Jack."

Jack started to sketch the man Norrington's description painted in his mind. When he finished the basics of the face, he showed it to James, who was visibly startled.

"It's terribly good, Jack. The eyes should be deeper set. A bit more brow. Less prominent eye brows. The chin should be a little more square."

Jack made a second sketch with the new information. They did this until James was satisfied with the likeness. Jack pulled on his breeches and left the cabin. He gave the best likeness to Cotton with a request for some specialty work, then balled up the others and tossed them one by one off the rail. James was still sitting on the bed when he returned.

"What are you going to do with the sketch?"

"Put out a pirate's bounty, to be paid upon delivery. Alive, of course. Never been on the issuing end of one of those. Be a completely new experience for me."

...to be continued...