Beware. The non-con isn't in subtext anymore.
No beta help yet.
(I don't even know how to spell that...ehum. Beata? Not betaed?)
Outcry
Sparrow was smiling blindly into Cut's face, his head forced back by the fist in his hair. Cut yanked harder and Sparrow's lips parted in pain. "Jack..." whispered Cut, with a soft, superior tone, breathing into his mouth. Cut caught Norrington's eyes, and those blue eyes of the pirate swiveled with an excitement that was rather distressing. His voice was intense, and almost intimate. He still claimed Norrington's eyes. "Have you ever thought of ...Captain Jack Sparrow... as a boy?" Norrington found himself at a loss for words, but Cut released him and gazed at Sparrow. "A mere lad..." he whispered, pressing closer, and Jack looked so trapped, strainness fluttering over his face as he shut his eyes for a moment.
An unspoken order passed between Cut and his other lackey, who eagerly seized Sparrow mane, forcing his head back even further. "Such a jaw..." continued Cut, now tracing his free hand along the line. Norrington felt a cold grip in his gut as those rude hands intruded the pure beauty... the pure beauty of Jack's throat... He wanted to object most fervently, but his throat was filled with ache, rendering him speechless.
"Such a mouth..." Cut's voice was like a dark dream. His index finger played with Jack's lower lip, and then he crashed his on mouth upon it, and Jack's body contracted. Norrington cringed, and the full meaning of "molestation" stood suddenly clear for him, as Jack struggled and was pinned between the two men. Sow's heavy breathing by his ear was appalling.
Jack wasn't frozen anymore, he fought vainly against the hand that was clammed over his mouth, unable to put space between him and the brute, there was a rashness in the two ravagers, and since Cut didn't need to hold Jack now, he was parting the white shirt with both his hands and the memory of how Jack hurriedly had pulled it close was clear and sharp in Norrington's mind.
Jack kicked and jerked while Cut bumbled with his legs, succeeding when the lackey closed off Jack's ability to breath completely. With Jack tractable, Cut could brutally force Jack's legs up around his own waist. The way both of them thrust into Jack was outrageous, and Sow's faint motions and harsh breathing was so close to him, like it was contagion him, seeping in and soiling him. It was unbearable to watch, but Norrington couldn't tear his eyes from it, and Jack still didn't seem to get any air. Cut was clawing at Jack's breeches, pulling, and Jack finally managed to turn his head out of the grip, desperately sucking in air. Time seemed to stop when he met Jack's eyes, they burned with rage, but somehow, intervened was a pain, a knowing, despairing pain. Too endless to hold in, it emitted and shredded inside Norrington.
"STOP!" he yelled, an outcry from within his soul. They did halt, and Norrington continued, somewhat breathless. "Stop. No need to show any further. I sign over the Dauntless."
"Good." Cut was speaking through his labored breathing. "However." He was grinding slowly against Jack. "I've no reason to... stop." He resumed to work at Jack's breeches, more effectively now, when the rashness was subdued. "Captain Jack Sparrow... and I have... our own accord. So..." his hand was moving over Jack's bare backside, "Captain Jack Sparrow?" he asked, eyes locked with Sparrow's again. Then he grinned that cutting smile. "Didn't think so." And the hand moved lower, fingers grazing... poking...
This was too horrible to watch. Norrington swallowed, and his eyes shut. Something inside him settled. "No," he said, low and resolute. He opened his eyes, but refused to look at what Cut was doing, focusing on his face. "No. You can have the Dauntless, if you stop right now," Norrington's said coldly. He felt like he was back on solid ground again, and knew exactly what was right, and pierced his eyes into Cut's. "Only if you stop right now." Jack stared at him with amazingly big eyes, stunned beyond comprehension. Cut was surprised, and regarded him estimating, before he shrugged and shrewdly casted his eyes between Norrington and Jack.
"Very well, " he said with a small smirk. "I shall consider this." He leaned forward, and that brute of his seemed to know his mind, because he clamped his hand over Jack's forehead, releasing his mouth, and Cut kissed him sloppily before he eased Jack back to the floor. His drifting hands as he did so infuriated Norrington beyond beliefs. Cut stepped away with a final tug to Jack's breeches. Jack didn't move. He stood with his shirt torn and his breeches by his feet, following Cut with a black, grim gaze as Cut and his men moved out, and once again locked them in the brig.
Phuu. For a moment I feared I wasn't able to interrupt Cut in a believable way. But then Norrington continued with that inexorable "No." Bless him! )
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