Little Sparrow
Summary: "Now up is down," was the last thing any of them heard before the rush of water drowned everything else out. Later, waking up on a random, deserted island, they almost immediately notice that something was not right with their Captain. Sparrington, Salazak, Willabeth, maybe others mentioned.
Neither man quite knew how they had ended up in the great cabin that night, pressed close together, James pressing Jack against the wall beside the door, the teen's hands divesting him of his clothing with an ease of practice, but neither were really questioning it as they kissed the living daylights out of each other. The tension brewing between them since that afternoon had nearly choked them at dinner, where they had both finally snapped and excused themselves to relieve some of it, only to find a make out session won't be enough. Luckily, the crew always ate below deck so they easily snook into the great cabin without anyone being the wise, except maybe Frederico, who had seen them, and Tia Dalma, who seemed to see everything.
Jack's head was spinning as he kissed up James' neck while said older man's hands were working on divesting him of his own shirt, waistcoat and sash, his breathing coming out as harsh pants, his fingers in the other's soft hair. He was drowning in a way he hadn't in a long time and it made his nerves on edge. He was like a taunt string ready to snap and he growled at James when the man finally reached his trousers, bucking against him and managing to get them away from the wall. He used James' startled and disoriented state to guide them to the closest piece of furniture they could use as support or leverage and he pushed James against it.
It just so happened to be the big table Jack kept his maps on, not that he cared at the moment, as he practically ripped open Norrington's breeches and slid down to his knees, boldly and skillfully taking the taller man into his mouth and starting to work him like an expert. Norrington just stared down at him, mouth agape and eyes blown wide with lust, brain barely registering the incredible image as pleasure coursed through him. He let Jack do his thing, head falling back as he did his best not to thrust into that warm wetness, not wanting to disrupt his work or accidentally hurt him. But it was getting too much as the younger fondled his balls so the ex Commodore took hold of Jack's single big braid at the back of his head and made him let go, falling to his knees in front of the Captain.
Jack moaned into the kiss as James tasted himself on his tongue, melting into the older man until said older man grabbed him by his hips and dragged him forward. Sparrow arched when their hard pricks brushed against each other as Norrignton held him close, mouthing at his neck and shoulders, scratching at the broad back when one hand cupped his bottom and the other tweaked a nipple. Not to be outdone, he leaned forward and tugged an earlobe into his mouth, playing with it while he let his hands explore every expense of the exposed skin he could reach, grinding their hips together until his hair was once again pulled on and glazed over green eyes met his.
With another kiss, James, without prelude, pushed a single finger into the tight heat of Sparrow's entrance and Jack released a loud gasp, somewhere between pain and pleasure. James kissed his forehead in apology for the rude intrusion, eyes searching for anything that could be used to ease the way and settling on the oil lamp sitting beside the maps over their heads. Without dislodging his partner, he reached up and managed to take it in hand, not spilling any of the warm oil on them, thankfully, and brought it down to eye level. Black eyes watched as he coated three fingers with it before removing the dry one and replacing it with a slick digit. It went in a lot more easily and Jack was definitely moaning in pleasure now.
As he rode James' finger, Sparrow reached behind himself to grab the other's cock and started massaging it, managing to wring out quite a few moans despite the awkward position he was in. He smirked at the flushed and panting ex Commodore, knowing he can be a really minx in the sack, as Armando had always complained when he was driving him insane. But he brushed those memories and thoughts of the past aside, for this was no longer Armando, whose body he had known better than his own. This was James Norrington, this was now and he was not some replacement. Jack was too fond of him for him to just be replacement. So he leaned forward again and kissed his sweaty forehead, only to gasp as another finger joined the first and they struck right against his prostate.
James hesitated for a second, looking up at the scrunched up expression of his lover with worry. ''Did I hurt you?'' He asked in a ragged whisper, a hand already coming up to caress Sparrow's face in something akin to comfort. Jack just leaned into the warm, callous hand and shook his head.
''Please, do that again,'' he breathed out even quieter and huskier than his companion had, breathing coming out quick, heart beating even faster. Norrignton complied and the Pirate Lord arched against him again, a quivering moan ripping out of him. Understanding what was going on, James continued his ministrations, kissing every part of Jack's face and whispering to him how beautiful he looked like this, in pleasure, on the edge and in danger of falling over at any second now. Had he not had a wholly different accent, he might have accidentally made Jack think he was back with his Spanish lover, since Armando used to whisper similar nonsense to him, only in Spanish. Jack chased away those thoughts by grinding hard against James' front and enjoying the growl that he received as his award. He drew Norrington in for a kiss as a third finger entered him, wincing minutely at the stretch. Good thing they had the oil.
Soon enough, James deemed his lover ready and pulled his fingers out, catching Jack's lips in a kiss as he lined up to his entrance, trying hi damnedest not to just thrust in like a savage beast in a rut. No matter how inebriated, he had never filed to think about his lover's pleasure before and he sure as hell wasn't going to start with Jack. He waited as patiently as he could for the pirate Captain to adjust before he started moving when Jack gave him a nod. He almost came then and there, with how hot it was and the friction that came from his prick sliding against Jack's tight walls, those silky muscles gripping him like a vice.
Jack was lightheaded as they began moving, lifting himself up and down Norrington's shaft as said ex Commodore helped him with the motions, breathy sighs or moans escaping them both. The heat filling him so fully was nearly melting him from the inside and he was loving every second of it, especially when they picked up the pace, even if only just the little. He wound his arms around James and dipped his head to kiss and suck at his chest, who in turn attached himself like a leech to Jack's neck and started working on a hickey that Jack couldn't currently be bothered to worry about covering in the morning. The cabin was soon filled with nothing but the sound of their panting breaths, moans and groans and the arousing melody of skin slapping against skin with increasing speed. The air smelled of musk and sweat, that perfect smell of sex that lingered a little too long and didn't let you clear your head after the deed was done, instead tempting you with another round.
And the teen was tempted for them to keep going like this until the second coming, if he could help it. Not even the pleased giggling of his beloved ship could clear up his mind enough for him to focus on anything other than James, who was peppering his face, neck, shoulders and upper chest with kisses and little suckles that left him weak in the knees. It only aroused him more when, weak-kneed as he was, James took over and did all the work, bodily lifting him just to slam him back down to his balls. Jack could do little else than kiss him and cry out when his prostate was hit.
It was becoming too much, his nerves were too stimulated. He wasn't going to lat. Jack swore James was aiming to kill him with pleasure and he could barely hold on for the ride as his orgasm finally hit, half shouting, half gasping his lover's name. The contracting of his walls was enough to send James over the edge as well and he groaned Jack's name loudly in the man's shoulder, holding on tightly to him, shaking with his own peak.
For a while, all they could do was cling to each other desperately, as thought that alone was keeping them grounded to earth, trying to catch their breaths and slow down their wildly beating hearts. When they finally managed to recover just a little bit, Jack took James' face in his hands and drew him in for a languid, soft kiss that spoke nothing of the frenzy they had just gone trough. James' was a little disturbed to see tears sliding down that beautiful face and he just held Jack tighter when more slipped out. He was already beating himself up for giving in and being so stupid as to take advantage of a youth grieving for his first lover when Jack wrapped his arms around him tighter and cuddled up to him.
'''M happy,'' was all the teen said but it was said with such sincerity and relief that James relaxed and just kissed his temple affectionately.
The only regret either will have in the morning was falling asleep against the map table.
00000
''Are you sure this will get Sparrow to come out?'' A skeptical Beckett enquired as he saw the cursed plague ship that was the Flying Dutchman approach a huge rock island with a big cave mouth on water level that sent chills down his spine even all the way over here. What was interesting was that not only he was uneasy about this ... place they were approaching, as even the half immortal crew of the Dutchman looked ready to bolt. Jones looked downright displeased but he had no fear of death, as he was immortal as long as ... whatever awaited them beyond these rocks didn't go for his heart. The short Lord was suddenly very doubtful of the wisdom of going to this place.
Lopez looked almost uncaring as he stood at gun point of two marines, who were more focused on the ominous feeling in the air than their target even as they pointed their muskets semi-steadily at his head. There was heavy, ugly, dark bruising on his neck as he watched the shadows play over this nightmarish course in the light of dawn as the sun slowly climbed up. Out of everyone on the ship, he looked most uncaring as to where they were going, as though this was something that did not even touch him in the slightest. He looked almost bored, if Cutler didn't know any better. He currently wore a better poker face than Beckett and Mercer combined.
"If this doesn't, then nothing ever will, Lord Beckett." Hugo told him almost pleasantly, although his words were in truth cold and impersonal. "If this doesn't get a reaction out of him, sir, then your lapdog has ruined him in the Locker. For this place possibly has more meaning to Jack Sparrow than his own home."
"For someone described to be the very epitome and corporation of freedom, I find it hard to believe Sparrow would ever value a place like this." One of Jones men sneered, half fearful, half mocking of the puny mortal men they were forced to listen to. "This is a cursed passage that imprisons every man who is not yet ready to meet his end. And so very few are truly content to just die."
"This place be th' very definition of a cage. I should've left Sparrow here ta rot." Jones sneered as well, growling at a missed opportunity. The Locker had a way out. A charted course. Mortals have found it a long time ago and had cleverly kept the secret to themselves, among pirates and no one else. All you need to escape the Locker is a good ship and a pilot smart enough to figure out the riddles people of old have left for future generations on the Mao Kun Map and Sparrow was unfortunately for them in possession of both a good ship and the smarts needed to escape. All that is needed to snap a man out of his worst nightmare was the slightest interference with the norm of his punishment. Just one oddity in the routine could break the delirium. Still, a man must both be strong and willful enough to break out of it. Some men had continued living out their punishment on their own long after the Locker stopped repeating it. Just a month in that place was enough to break a person, no matter how strong or crazy they might have been in life. You had to be stronger or to have something anchoring you to whatever is left of your sanity to last in that place.
Perhaps his biggest mistake with Sparrow had been letting him go down with his ship. The Black Pearl was bound to Jack Sparrow's soul by a magic Jones could not comprehend and it had always been there. That is how Sparrow has never been blinded by tempests of men. Near or far, before their paths finally crossed or long after they were driven apart, it didn't matter. The Black Pearl carried her Captain's secrets and sanity. He should have just ignored Sparrow's bargain and let the damned thing burn. Now he has to chase a ship not even his own enchanted one can't catch across the seven seas for a midget that was near obsessed with the ship's rightful Captain. Yes, he should have just let her burn but he had been somewhat impressed with the true potential he saw in the man she had chosen to bind her meager spirit to. Rare few men heard the call of the sea as it was but rarer few still could hear the song of a ship. Not even Jones could until ... he bound himself to the Dutchman.
He hated his curse and he hated disturbing another cursed man even more. Some twenty years ago, he had felt pity for the poor souls in these wretched waters and he had taken mercy on them. This place was the only one he approached with the intentions of ferrying souls across. But there was one group of idiots that had refused and remain in their cursed state here to this day, often chasing him away from the mouth of the cave with warning shots that could not even properly reach him. After a while, he just stopped coming, waited for the piteous souls that were not affected by this cursed place to drift out of the cavern and then sent them on their merry way to the afterlife.
He was not at all happy to approach this place or to do what Beckett will no doubt ask. But he had his heart and Davy Jones, for all that he hated this curse and almost wished for death, was still human enough to fear it like any other man. Only a fool and a lier would claim otherwise. There are just some men who fear something more than death who chose to die instead of finding some unorthodox way to live forever.
"He wouldn't have stayed long." A man said from behind, voice raspy with the curse of the Dutchman's crew, hunched over a little and covered in sea creatures, pale as a corpse. Blue eyes glared defiantly at Jones, Beckett, Mercer and Lopez. Bootstrap Bill, William Turner Senior, looked far worse than the last time his son or Jack Sparrow saw him, but there was still a fire somewhere in his cold, cursed body, burning in him as determination and pure force of will kept him from fully succumbing to the curse of the Flying Dutchman. "He would have found a way to escape. He's Captain Jack Sparrow and a little cave like this would never be enough to hold him. Not if the Locker itself couldn't."
"You get back ta work, Mr Turner, or it will be the cat fer ya!" Jones snapped and two more 'sympathetic' crew members dragged the man away before he could be lashed to death. By the time Jones' grumbling stopped, they were at the mouth of the cave when Lopez called for them to stop.
"If we go any further in, there will be no more getting out." He told them as he looked out into the darkness of the cavern. The seabed beneath the dark water seemed to be glowing a hellish red and Beckett wondered if this was the entrance to hell. It sure could be mistaken for it, what with all the pointy, deadly rocks and the smell of decay, sulphuric and rotting wood. Just a dozen meters into the cavern, it was already too dark to see anything but outlines of shapes and less than a dozen more you couldn't see even that.
These were the uncharted waters no sane sailor wanted to sail into. Those of higher position in the Royal Navy didn't believe folktales and legends and rumors about this place but even they were not foolish enough to order something as suicidal as entering this particular cavern. No one knows what exactly sinks ships and devours men alive so only one ever survives and is washed out of and far away from the cave for a passing ship to find and rescue so he can tell the tale, but rare few ever can speak again after the terrors they see inside or they simply go so bonkers that people often put them out of their misery. Looking at the red lit water with shark like shapes swimming beneath the ship, Beckett cannot exactly blame them.
"What is it that we can find here and nowhere else?" The Lord of the East India Trading Company finally asked after a few minutes of eery silence and nothing happening, half losing his nerve and half losing his patience. Every day they dillydally here is a day Sparrow is closer to Shipwreck Cove, leaving Beckett none the wiser as to the Brethren Court's purpose or plan or what these ... Nine Pieces of Eight were. No pirate dared divulge that information, for they seem to believe it is a key to their eventual salvation and the EITC's demise, but they either don't know how or won't share the information, no matter what Cutler offers or what Ian does to them.
"Patience, my Lord. All will become clear soon enough. They must already know that we are here." Came the cryptic and unhelpful answer from Hugo, still staring out at the almost still waters inside the cave. The Dutchman was fighting to stay steady and in place instead of bashing itself on one of the deadly rocks that served like a doorway or a path that lead to the actual mouth and entrance to the cave.
"I fear I am losing my patience, with this wait and with you," Mercer, taking the hint, was already polishing one of his knives in threat. But Lopez just chuckled bitterly, eyes not straying from what they were focused on.
"Tell me, Lord Beckett, have you ever heard of a Capitán Armando Salazar? Of his Silent Mary?"
"I have indeed heard of the Butcher of the Sea, Mr Lopez."
"And have you heard of his demise?" When Beckett did not answer, he continued as though he had not even been expecting it. "I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't. The only stories still around are half remembered rumors and tavern stories no one really tells anymore. The Spanish Government and the King have made sure that the failure of their most successful, most powerful and most famous pirate hunter does not spread for fear of what it might suggest about Spain itself and her strength or weakness. For how strong can a country be when her mightiest captain was defeated by a mere pirate boy?"
"I thought Captain Salazar met his end in a horrendous maelstrom that sank his ship with all of his men." Mercer noted lightly although it could be seen in his eyes that he was not pleased his information was wrong. The Spaniard chuckled mockingly, disdainfully, at the mere notion of it.
"The Silent Mary was far mightier than any other ship to ever sail these waters. At least, one that was not in some way enchanted. A maelstrom would have damaged her but not sank her so completely that all traces of her were forever lost." He smirked over his shoulder at the Englishmen for a moment before looking back towards the dark. "No, it is not a force of nature that has ended Salazar, nor was it a god or goddess. It was a man, a boy. A boy of maybe eighteen summers and no more. I do not know the full details, either, as the story has been told and retold a thousand times over before it reached the first port and the first tavern, but I do know this. The ship was as fast as the wind itself, beautiful white sails that caught every last bit of the breeze and used it, a hull of strong but light brown wood almost the same color of cocoa made for cutting the waves, adorned in golden outlines on the deck and the railing with a figurehead of the same color holding out a dove. And her captain was eighteen years old and the best and the craziest pilot to ever be blessed by the gods for he had led the Silent Mary right here, turned his ship around as if by magic and left the enemy to their death. And that boy still walks a free man today." He looked over his shoulder at them again, eyes mocking. "You might have even heard of him."
"Jack Sparrow," Davy Jones spat like a curse. Beckett had no reaction. He didn't know how he should react to these news. He had had the one person able to take down the Silent Mary in his employ and he had let him slip through his fingers like a fool. How should he react to finding this bit of information out? How does one react to learning that an already formidable enemy was even more formidable than originally thought.
He didn't get the chance to ponder this train of thought further for they saw something moving within the foggy darkness of the Devil's Triangle.
There was a scream.