Title: The Afterglow
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack Sparrow / James Norrington, Jack Sparrow / Will Turner, side pairings (FPS)
Warnings: violence, character death
Summary: Let there be insane soap opera plot twists from hell. And buggery. Lots of it. This story resumes after the ending of Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse of the Black Pearl.
Disclaimer: At no point do I claim any form of ownership of any of the characters depicted in this piece. My representations of them are not necessarily indicative of the intentions of their original creators. The plot in which I place these characters holds no relationship to their original context. I make no profit from borrowed characters. Don't sue me.
Word Count: 2,510

II. Strange Encounters

Norrington strolled into the pub, trying to look calculated and casual, but to little avail. The Commodore was not seen to frequent pubs, and had on more than one occasion made it quite clear that he didn't care for them much at all. He was leery of the stares that followed him across the room as he made his way for a mostly uninhabited bench. He seated himself, now trying to hide from the stares he'd attracted earlier. He flicked a few coins at a bar maid and she brought him a mug of grog. He tossed it back and slammed the mug down, confused and dejected and quite possibly starting to anger. How dare Elizabeth ask him such a thing after refusing his proposal? He was disgusted with the whole thing and he contemplated this feeling as he stared into his mug.

Jack watched him from across the room. He'd been drinking steadily all night since his arrival. He'd left his Pearl in the charge of his crew to avoid drawing attention to himself. He'd come to find Will, but a little talking about town told him that he was blissfully married to Elizabeth. Jack, unlike Will, had never doubted his feelings. Will was a stunning boy and Jack had been known to share the company of men in the past. Jack made no secret of it, at least to himself: he wanted will for his own. In a fit of fury, Jack headed right to the pub and proceeded to attempt to drink himself utterly silly. By the time Norrington arrived, he was almost there, but Norrington aroused memories in Jack that stirred his previous fury and he got up to join the man, determined to share his foul mood in whatever capacity he could.

Jack sat right beside Norrington without warning or invitation, making Norrington jump a bit. The Commodore looked up into kohl-rimmed eyes and blinked. It couldn't be… Norrington had sworn to hang Jack if he ever returned. He wouldn't dare… It was! It was Jack Sparrow!

"What in the devil!" Norrington hissed fiercely at Jack.

"Fancy meeting you here," Jack replied with a calm and thinly disguised hatred in his voice.

"If it weren't for how Elizabeth would respond, I would run you through, Sparrow."

"Run me through, eh? I bet you'd like that. Wouldn't you?"

The Commodore narrowed his eyes and stared with blank anger. Jack wiggled a bit, comically impersonating a whore. Norrington suddenly caught his drift. He grabbed Jack by the shirt and stood, lifting them both clear of the bench, which was thrown sidelong with the effort. Pub goers scattered and began to gather to watch. He threw Jack backward and slammed him into a wooden beam. Jack was caught by surprise, but still had time to draw his sword. He pointed it dangerously at the Commodore and their blades rubbed together, an eerily high-pitched sound among the lower murmuring noises of the crowd that had assembled for the duel.

The bartender shouted for them to take it outside, but when he breached the chanting circle and saw Norrington, he merely ordered that Jack be hauled outside. Jack shouted something about cowards and Norrington charged after him, determined for the revenge he should've exacted when he first had the chance. He had let Jack go, but he wouldn't make that mistake twice.

This time, Norrington was quick. Before Jack had time to shove himself up off the ground, Norrington's sword was pointed readily. He stood and waited for Jack, who sat on the ground for a moment. In spite of himself, Jack was admiring the Commodore's jaw line. It was lovely. He thought he would really rather fancy to lick it. Stranger things had popped into Jack's head when he was full of thunder, but this was a dangerous idea, even for Jack to execute. The Commodore, however, was not attacking. He was merely on guard. So, Jack took the time to pick himself up, dust off his jacket and straighten his effects. When he was finished, he grounded himself and stared squarely at the Commodore's face.

Norrington was confused. He'd come looking for a proper duel and Jack was just standing there, eyeing him. He was too drunk to catch Jack's drift this time around. Instead of drawing his sword, Jack sauntered closer and Norrington placed his blade at Jack's chest.

"Go on, Commodore. Run me through," Jack teased.

"Don't be a coward. Draw your sword!" Norrington ordered, jaw set sternly.

"You know you want to. Go on and stick me with it! Just imagine that hot, wet blood all over your long, hard sword. Go ahead. Kill me."

The Commodore squinted his eyes, yet again. At Norrington's confusion, Jack took his opportunity and pushed the sword to one side by the flat of the blade, slipping close enough to breathe on Norrington's face.

"Tempting, isn't it? You want to kill me, don't you? You like the sound of all that sword business. Admit it! It gets your cold blood boiling just thinking about it." Jack spoke in a threatening tone, until his front finally faltered. Norrington stammered and Jack flashed him a lopsided grin. Swiftly, Jack being far more practiced with holding drink, he knocked the sword from the Commodore's hand and went for his lips. Norrington was no Will Turner, but for a night or two, he would do to squelch Jack's lust.

"Gods," Jack muttered, and Norrington found his back to something solid. He hadn't realized how close he was to the wall. And Jack was kissing him. Why was Jack kissing him? Didn't he want to kill Jack? Didn't Jack want to kill him? Surely not anymore, he supposed. Norrington sighed and recalled the pangs of lust he had hidden from himself the first time he'd had Jack so close to his clutches. He was too far gone to fight the urge, and he grabbed Jack roughly about the waist, kissing him back. Jack Sparrow was no Elizabeth Swann, but for a night or two, he would do to squelch Norrington's lust.

When the pair arrived at Norrington's door, Elizabeth had already fled and Norrington had already forgotten about her. The servants were in their quarters on the other side of the estate and neither man paid any heed to who would hear Jack being rather ruthlessly slammed into and thrust through the front door. Inelegantly, the Commodore shed his clothes as he directed Jack toward the master bedroom. For the second time that night, Norrington fell backwards through a door and stumbled his way to a bed.

This time, however, there were no niceties. Jack did not sit calmly beside him on the edge of the mattress. Jack did not caress him gently as Elizabeth had done. Jack leaped onto the bed like a cat, knocking the Commodore flat and surprised onto his back. Jack's beads clanked and jingled as he hovered over Norrington's face, tilting his head in his usual way. Yet, somehow, it seemed extraordinarily unusual to the Commodore. He pondered that it must have been the angle.

"Tell me, Commodore, what have you got planned for me?" Jack asked, "going to run me through?"

Norrington grunted. His eyelids lowered until he looked at Jack though small slits. Feigning a haze deeper than he really suffered from, he grabbed at Jack's shoulders. When he had a good hold, he moved suddenly to roll Jack onto his back. The only sign of Jack's surprise was a slight widening of his eyes. But Jack didn't mind being roughed up a bit. He grinned seductively.

"Go on, Commodore. Don't go easy on me."

"I am never lenient with rogue Captains," Norrington began, sitting up, tearing apart Jack's shirt and sitting atop his thighs. Norrington's jaw tightened. "In fact, I intend to teach you a lesson you won't soon forget."

Jack's grin grew wider and he kicked his boots onto the floor. He wriggled contentedly into the softness of the bed.

"What'll it be, then? Moses' Law? I do hope you've something more creative than a lousy old whip…" Jack reached for Norrington's belt and removed it expertly in what looked like a single swoosh of movement. He pretended to crack it like a whip before tossing it to the floor. The Commodore watched fastidiously.

As Jack's hand reached into the layers of fabric, Norrington momentarily lost his bearings. He sat back on his haunches and his head rolled back, hands reaching idly to steady himself. They landed on Jack's chest and Norrington was struck by the notion that a man's chest is remarkably hard. He knew this, but it still felt surprising. His eyes fluttered open just as Jack was wriggling from his grasp and tossing him over onto his back. Again, the Commodore grunted, but this time it was in assent. Jack held him down, bare palm to bare chest, and tore his pants down without ceremony. Throwing them aside, Jack wriggled out of his own, and tossed what was left of his shirt onto the floor with the rest.

Jack scratched a trail down either side of Norrington's torso with his fingernails, his naked thighs straddling the man beneath him. Norrington writhed and groaned, and arched off the bed, placing his hands on Jack's hips. Indeed, he was more than willing to let Sparrow take the lead. Norrington's lonely nights at sea had only once been warmed by a man. The entire act was clumsy and embarrassing, but it was obvious that Jack had experience. Norrington could be content to let Sparrow put said experience to use. And so he did.

The Commodore closed his eyes and felt the pirate's matted hair brush against his belly. He felt the tip of Jack's nose below his navel before his tongue snaked out to taste a lock of coarse, dark hair. Jack dragged his nose down further, planting his lips solidly on the crease of Norrington's thigh. He sucked at the tender skin until it flushed with goose pimples. A little growl rumbled from the Commodore's throat and Jack moved to his groin. Jack teased with his tongue, knowing precisely how to torment his partner, coaxing him toward oblivion in the most infuriating way possible.

Jack lifted and lowered his mouth on the unsuspecting Commodore, who moved closer and closer to orgasm, being far more drunk than he was used to, and already rather bothered from Elizabeth's earlier ministrations. Jack, sensing the tension in the body below him, rose and began to rummage through his clothing. The Commodore lifted his head dazedly, and watched Jack extract a little bottle from a pouch. Jack was always prepared, merely waiting for the opportune moment. The Commodore could ascertain nothing and he let his head fall back, hair splaying extravagantly about his head.

Jack again positioned himself between the Commodore's knees, sitting back on his heels. He poured a bit of something from the bottle into his hands, rubbed them together briefly and then positioned his hands on Norrington in place of his mouth. Norrington didn't know what Jack was doing, but whatever Jack had on his hands was marvelously slick.

"What is that?" The Commodore demanded, huskily.

"Oil," Jack replied calmly. The Commodore made a bit of a face when Jack offered no further explanation, but instead, removed one hand from his task and placed it behind himself. Again, Norrington lifted his head and tried with little success to ascertain what Jack was up to. Alternately, Jack applied more oil to both himself and to Norrington, pouring small amounts into his hands until both were adequately greased.

Then, arching himself gratefully upon his own hand, he straightened his body and shifted his weight. He was ready, finally. Quitting his work with the oil, Jack put his dirty hands on either side of Norrington's hips. Jack maneuvered around the man's legs, straddling him. Jack balanced carefully, spine straight and muscles taught, and lowered himself. As soon as Norrington felt Jack at his tip, his eyes flew open wide. He didn't know what he was expecting, but he wasn't expecting Jack to assume a subordinate position without at least putting up a fuss.

Jack pushed down, oiled skin on oiled skin, so slowly it was agonizing for the drunken Commodore. The heat of Jack's body was intense, so much so that Norrington couldn't help but raise up his hips. He groped for Jack's thighs, trying to push him down faster, but Jack held his ground. He put a hand on Norrington's belly and held him down.

"Commodore," Jack threatened in a sing-song voice, evoking memories of the day he'd captured Elizabeth. Norrington smirked.

"You have got to be the worst pirate I have ever seen," he said. With that he thwarted Jack's hands, grabbed him by the hips and shoved him down. Jack groaned deep in his throat, gratefully accepting the Commodore's length. Jack sat and ground his hips down. He loved bedding men who fancied themselves dangerous adversaries. They always made for the most amusing talk. Norrington pushed upward, testing the waters. He looked at Jack nervously. He wondered if he was hurting Jack - The noises Jack made were so short and abrupt. Norrington stopped moving.

"I thought you weren't going to go easy on me, Commodore! Lost your nerve, have you?" Jack growled. He raked his nails along Norrington's sides, this time pressing hard into his skin. Norrington's expression hardened.

"If you're not careful, you'll have a dawn appointment with the gallows."

He pressed brazenly upward, still stunned by the heat and friction, and tightened his jaw. He lifted his hips off the bed with determination, shoving Jack up with them. Jack's head rolled backward and his mouth opened to let out heavy but muted sighs. When the Commodore let his hips fall, Jack slammed cruelly down, making no effort to cushion his fall. When Norrington's muscles began to tire, Jack shoved his hips down and held them. With surprising force, Jack lifted and lowered, angling himself almost gracefully to soothe his sensitive gland with Norrington's stiffness.

Jack's writhing looked animalistic and random, but from the swiftness with which it brought the Commodore toward orgasm, he could tell that Jack was calculated. His need culminating, Norrington once again grabbed Jack's hips, this time using the strength of his arms to give more force to his rhythm. Jack pushed down with all his weight, allowing Norrington to lift and raise him from beneath, and placed his hand on his own groin. Jack spilled onto the Commodore's belly, his body tensing, the spasms of which left Norrington breathless and debauched.

Jack smiled wickedly as he raised himself from the Commodore's lap. In moments he had fallen asleep and Jack took the opportunity to reflect on his endeavors. He wasn't sure if he'd go to find Will… He wasn't sure if Will would want him. But, for now, he at least had a very intriguing immediate future, and an almost unbelievable story to tell at ports.