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: 1,748

VII. Escape

Elizabeth had indeed gone to her father's for some time, confessing she'd seen Jack arrested, but sparing him the part about the nudity. It was enough that she'd foiled both Jack and Norrington in Will's eye; she was at least partially vindicated. While Elizabeth drank tea at her father's home and collected his sympathies for her unannounced travels with Norrington, he had gone to the jail and paid for the silence of the guard. He opened the door to Jack's cell and stood gingerly inside its threshold.

"Thought you were locking me up, Commodore," Jack said coldly, without getting up.

"Elizabeth is blackmailing me, Jack. If I don't leave with her, she'll tell all of Christendom that… well…" Norrington faltered.

"That you've done something far less Christian than stealing another man's wife. Better of two evils. I understand," Jack grumbled, raising himself from the floor. He studied the Commodore's face. It had only been a few days, but Jack had grown to like the other man's company. He was witty, concise and best of all, eager in bed without making a show of it.

"You've got to be gone before dawn," he told Jack. Norrington saw the look of hurt in Jack's face. He felt hurt, too. In spite of all their gruffness and their past, and their general inability to admit compassion, or heaven forbid, affection, Norrington didn't want Jack to go.

"Well…" The Commodore trailed off.

"Well?"

"Well… I suppose we've a few hours before dawn…" Norrington over dramatized his disapproving posture as Jack stepped forward. Abruptly, after looking him in the face for a few long seconds, Jack grabbed the man's hair and gracelessly shoved their mouths together. For a moment, the Commodore was knocked silly, dazed with lust and bittersweet butterflies. He only had a few hours to enjoy Jack and he would not be foolish enough to waste his time. Prying away Jack's hands, he motioned him to follow and lead the way quietly to the house.

Norrington opened the door cautiously and stepped through. Ascertaining that no commotion would be stirred, he ushered Jack inside and back to a first-story bedroom, the door of which he locked, checked and double-checked. Jack sat nervously on the bed, haunted that it would be the last time he would ever see it. Jack was never one to reflect on such things before. He'd taken many lovers in many ports and never looked back. Somehow, the Commodore's innocence and reluctance and spontaneity made Jack feel that he at least owed the man the decency of a proper explanation for his leaving. But at least this spared him the difficulty of explaining his all-pervading obsession with Will Turner.

Norrington turned and faced Jack, unbuttoning his jacket and tossing it on a dresser. Jack stood and flicked the hands away from the fastenings of Norrington's tunic. Jack undressed him mostly with his mouth, using his hands only at the breeches, which once undone, he shoved down with a booted foot. Norrington tossed Jack's jacket and the remainders of his torn shirt over his tanned shoulders and kissed him. Jack groaned gratefully and the Commodore undid his belt. Jack's pants fell about his ankles and he stepped out of them as well as his boots, kicking the jumbled pile aside.

Naked and panting, the pair crept toward the bed, trying not to trip over one another, but being yet unwilling to get far enough apart to really walk. The back of Jack's legs hit the bed and he allowed himself to tumble back onto it, dragging the Commodore down with him. Jack tried to sit up, but Norrington resisted him.

"Commodore," Jack whispered, "the oil's on the floor in me pocket."

"You wait. I'll get it."

As Norrington fumbled through Jack's effects, Jack wondered why he had never called the other man by his first name. The reason now was because he had never done so in the past. Jack needed this to be as much like their previous endeavors as possible because this time, he wanted to forget that it would be the last time. He supposed that in the past, the reason was that he had never taken their affections seriously. It was all an absurdist joke. And Jack was happy to play along, so long as the Commodore was willing to sate him physically. But now it was more. They were both going to have to disappear… In opposite directions. Jack would miss him. Now, he regretted his pride. He should've always called the Commodore by his fitting name.

Jack held out his hand for oil and rubbed it slowly over Norrington's length. Norrington paused to let out some noises before oiling his own hand and slipping it behind Jack. Knowing they'd never share a bed again abolished all shame and they both writhed desperately. Then, the Commodore stopped. Jack looked up at him, confused and worried.

"We'll never… I'll never…" Norrington began and paused awkwardly. His voice cracked. Jack waited, trying to control the tension on his face.

"We'll never get another chance, Jack, especially me. I'd regret forever not knowing how you felt if we never… Well, could we… Er… Switch?"

Concern melted from Jack's features and his face relaxed into a small smile. He thought the problem was more complicated – that they might have to stop their romp. He reached out and kissed Norrington gently. So much for forgetting it was their last chance. So much for ordinary. Jack sat up slowly until the two faced each other, kneeling tentatively upright on the bed. Jack held Norrington's shoulders and turned him, laying him on his back. The sheets had been aired, but Jack's hand prints from their first encounter remained. He smiled at the memory of their playfully feigned anger. Taking the bottle of oil, he slicked up his fingers.

"Relax," Jack cooed, "I won't hurt you, even if I do have to wait longer than dawn."

The Commodore sighed and tried to release the tension in his muscles. Jack's finger felt foreign and made him jump, but the oil protected him thus far from pain. Jack bent his finger and struck something that surprised Norrington. He felt his face flush hot and the sensation radiated through his body as he began to sweat. All he could feel were Jack's hands, one in front and one behind. All other sensation was effectively drowned out. The hand in front distracted him from a second finger, some minutes later a third, until Jack decided his partner must certainly be ready.

Jack withdrew his hands and placed them on his own hardness. Dark eyes met hazel eyes as he readied himself. He slicked himself once, twice over to take the edge off. Jack leaned down and watched the man below him. He kissed Norrington's mouth and nudged his knees apart, easing forward. Norrington lay prone and pliant, giving little resistance as Jack pressed on. Gently, slowly, Jack allowed him to adjust until he could push no further. He waited for Norrington to release his breath. Then, Jack pulled backward, angling his groin to stroke the internal spot that made Norrington arch his back with sensation.

Jack hissed air through his teeth and bent his head to lick the Commodore's collar bone. Holding himself up with one hand, Jack put the other between them and wrapped it around Norrington, who clutched witlessly at Jack's torso. The Commodore knew that Jack was more than adequate. From head to toe, Jack was tanned and exotic and dangerously gorgeous. He was lean, deceptively powerful and astoundingly perfect in his proportioning. Yet, from his vantage point, Jack's girth was startling to say the least. Norrington was flushed and dripping with their combined sweat. Overcome and overwhelmed by Jack's hand and mouth and cock, the Commodore allowed himself to lose control of his dignity. They both rocked frantically as the Commodore's cries reached a feverish pitch, when Jack stifled them with his tongue.

With Jack's limbs and hips undulating furiously, Norrington approached his peak. Jack pulled his mouth away and a sound escaped Norrington that was almost indistinguishable at first.

"Jack!" The Commodore shouted. He shouted and muttered and breathed and cried the name until the sound of it had lost its meaning, echoing like an unfamiliar mantra through the bedroom chamber. Jack pushed and pulled, trying vainly to make each thrust harder and deeper, grunting and puffing like an animal. Jack was so close, he couldn't think.

"James," he moaned, quite loudly ruining his own intentions to keep things as much like how they had once been. At that, Norrington was finally conquered by his ecstasy and he let out a series of low, quiet wails, so overcome that he hadn't even the presence of mind to scream. He spent for what felt to him like hours, tightening almost painfully around Jack, who howled and twitched and finally collapsed.

For a few minutes, the pair lay panting on damp sheets. Then, Jack felt uneasy. He lifted his head from the Commodore's shoulder and turned his face toward the door. He saw the silhouette before his eyes focused.

"Elizabeth!" Jack breathed. Norrington's eyes snapped open and he heaved Jack off of his chest, landing him on the floor with a heavy thud. Jack scrambled for his effects as Elizabeth covered her mouth and fled back down the hall. Eyes practically glazed over with shock, the Commodore sat stoically on the bed.

"She told me she'd lost the key I gave her…" he mused to himself. "I thought she couldn't get in… Jack, you've got to get out of here! She could be back any moment with every admiral this side of the new world trailing her. If you're caught they'll kill you. And if I'm caught with you, we're both doomed. At least alone I can stall them."

Jack's face contorted in frustration. He knew Norrington was right, but he'd hoped to spend his last moments peacefully sated in the Commodore's arms.

"However brief," he whispered to Jack, "I loved you." Jack couldn't return the sentiment. He loved Will. Jack looked briefly at Norrington placed a hand on the man's pale white shoulder and then shook himself to action.

Without wasting another moment, Jack pulled on his breeches and jacket, grabbed his effects and jumped out the first story window. He made haste for the cover of trees and hoped Elizabeth was making for the authorities instead of her home.