Pairing: Jack/Norrington
Rating: NC-17 for sex and games. Cannonfic: PWP.
Archive:  Yes, help yourself.
Disclaimer: The Mouse/Bruckheimer Productions owns them, except for Jack Sparrow who belongs to J.Depp. ;-)
Warning: This is just for you, KJ! All your fault, after all. ;)
Author's Note: I promised to get "closer to canon" in my next fic, and ended up closer than expected! Nautical naughtiness ensued after certain imagery and *writers* wouldn't desist.

Summary: Jack gets on Norrington's nerves, and subsequently gets what he deserves.

Just For You

By Webcrowmancer

Norrington gritted his teeth. "Jack," he murmured, in a long-suffering tone.

Jack ceased his cheerful tune. "Yes, love?"

Norrington raised his head in the dim light of the cabin, where the gibbous moon was waxing brilliantly and casting a faint enough light to illumine Jack through the panes of the windows. "I'm not asking you this time. I'm telling you. Cease that infernal humming."

Jack was quiet for a moment and then said, unsinkably, "'M not humming. It's called 'singing', and I do it very well, if I dare say so meself." He immediately began to sing again. "Yo ho, yo ho…"

Norrington clenched his teeth. Testily, he stated, "I am trying to sleep. And that song bears little to no resemblance to a lullaby. Even when crooned in your dulcet voice, Jack. Stop it."

Jack stirred from where he lay upon his back beside him, causing the cot to swing out of kilter with the natural sway it had adopted from the Pearl's rhythmic motion as she surged through the ocean waves. "Still edgy, are you? Even after all the positions we've accomplished in the last few hours?"

Norrington smiled; he couldn't help it. But it wouldn't do to encourage Jack now. Sternly, he said, "Why do you think I'm wanting some peace and quiet? We need to sleep. Even you do."

"I'll be the judge of that, I think," Jack said, obviously not willing to give way on this little matter of the tune. And he promptly began to hum; an honest humming this time.

Norrington sighed. A dozen various notions sprang to mind, suggesting themselves to Norrington as possible punishments for this rather unnecessary goading of Jack's. Because of course Jack knew that he was pushing Norrington, seeing how far he could take it before Norrington snapped.

The humming continued lazily apace, and Norrington said above it, quietly, "I'm warning you, Jack. This is the last time. Keep it up, and you'll experience firsthand the results of pushing me."

Jack lifted his head and asked, curiously, "'At sounds more like a threat than a warning, mate. Are you honestly giving orders to the captain of me ship - to *not* sing when he bloody well feels like it?"

Norrington smiled smugly. "I am, indeed."

Jack replied, dryly, "Seeing as you're already in this fine bed, and have already given it up times too numerous to count, I'm failing to see what you can possibly do 'at might convince me."

Drowsily, Norrington said, "Just don't say that I didn't warn you."

Jack was quiet for a moment more, than said in a lower tone, the one that tended to reach with husky lower notes right into Norrington's chest and groin and cause him to stiffen with arousal just on principle, "Sounds rather interesting. I suppose you aren't a commodore for nothing. Must really engage the attention of all those little officers of yours, to hear you givin' 'em orders."

Norrington ignored this, closing his eyes steadfastly, and wondering if Jack was going to take the bait.

Sure enough, a few moments later, Jack sang slowly, "…devils and black sheep…and really bad-"

Norrington twisted around, and clapped a hand over Jack's mouth, silencing him. "I warned you. There may not be much I can do outside amongst your crew, Jack. But in here, captain or no, I can still teach you a lesson." Rising up swiftly to grab Jack's wrist, he noted Jack's hiss of indrawn breath.

Well, they would see if Jack was still interested after he realized what Norrington planned. Norrington climbed down to the floor, despite the fact they were both unclad, and then seized Jack's arm and pulled him upright, the sheet falling away.

Jack was laughing. "And just what do you plan on doing to me, eh?"

Norrington pulled him out of bed, and then marched him around to the other side of the bed, where the barrel of the cannon was. Jack was still chortling at Norrington, and then complained as he was pushed to lean over it, "That's bloody cold, you know."

"I warned you," Norrington said, simply, and reached for the long wooden ruler he had seen laying upon the cabinet. "Three strokes," he said. "One for each time I told you to quit, and you didn't."

And he brought the ruler sharply down over Jack's naked buttocks.

Jack's strangled whimper at this was enlightening, as well as even more arousing. And interestingly, Jack tightened but he didn't round on him as Norrington had suspected he might.

In a low murmur, Norrington pointed out, "I get little enough sleep aboard your ship as it is. You know very well why that is, Jack. There is no reason for you to be so inconsiderate. And I find that blasted song quite tiresome." He brought the ruler down over Jack's now-waiting arsecheeks a second time.

Jack's open-mouthed groan at it seemed to pull directly at Norrington's cock, which stiffened to full hardness now. He couldn't resist the urge, and reached out with his left hand to caress over the no-doubt pinkening smooth flesh.

Jack actually quivered beneath his touch. Norrington waited, with a slight smile, wondering when Jack would break. Sure enough, Jack suddenly hissed, "Damn it, man. Follow through, can't you? Or won't you finish what you started?"

"You started this, not I," Norrington pointed out in a reasonable, cold tone. Then he brought the ruler down on Jack's ass one last time, quite hard, noting how Jack seemed to jump at it, but the moan that followed was breathily gasped, labored.

Norrington listened to Jack's quickened breathing and dropped the ruler to the floor. Lifting both hands now to palm both of Jack's slightly heated buttocks, feeling the warm stripes across them, he said, in a casual tone, "You know, I don't think that was nearly enough, do you?"

Using his foot, he nudged Jack's legs apart a little more, and asked again, "Do you, Jack? Or will you stop singing and let me have a little sleep?"

Jack's reply sounded strained. "Tell you what, love. We'll make a deal. You make me sing a different tune, and afterwards we'll both sleep like wee bairns, what do you say?"

"Very well," Norrington said. "Agreed." And he lifted one hand and brought it down smartly across Jack's quivering buttocks, then once again, and then once more. Jack was gasping, and Norrington couldn't stand it anymore. He dropped to his knees, to mouth the trembling orbs, kissing them, biting at the smooth skin, his hands going to Jack's flanks to hold him still. He reached up one hand and found Jack's erect organ dripping against the cool metal of the cannon.

Smearing the precum onto his fingers, he brought it to Jack's lovely behind. It was sinful, really, for a man to have such a beautiful posterior, far lovelier than any woman's he'd ever seen. Not that he'd seen too many; enough to be able to guess, at any rate, that most male asses were not possessing of the charming dimensions to compete with ladies'… But then, Jack possessed too many charms of both genders to be able to resist.

He smoothed the tips of his slickened fingers against Jack's tight rosebud and then entered, pressing inwards as Jack's groan turned fervently prayerful.

Rising up, he kept his fingers stroking in and out and said, conversationally, "There's no need to go to such lengths if you really need to be buggered, Jack. I'm quite happy to oblige."

Panting, Jack managed, "James, if you don't get on with it, you'll take your own turn over this here cannon, savvy?"

Norrington froze, his fingers stilling within Jack's waiting arse. "Are you threatening me?" he asked, a note of wry, helpless amusement joining the grin on his face.

Jack moaned and cursed under his breath.

With a slight chuckle, Norrington withdrew his fingers and gave Jack's bottom another warm, friendly slap, not enough to hurt. "Don't move; stay right where you are."

Jack emitted a heartfelt sigh as Norrington stepped away to retrieve the little jar of oil they kept for such purposes. Slathering the oil onto his member, Norrington returned to Jack's backside and rubbed the fresh oil up and down Jack's crevice. Hot, far too hot; Jack's body always gave him far too much pleasure, whether just to watch, to stare at in admiration, or to touch.

And the way Jack was pushing back upon his hand now, with a little entreating groan, Norrington had to draw a breath himself just to try to remain clear and focused upon his goal. Jack had pleasured him not two hours before with his mouth, most thoroughly.

Here he was, readily anointed like a stallion once again, eager to charge forward to impale himself in Jack's waiting, longing ass. And so he would.

As he leaned over Jack, placing his hands on Jack's upper arms, near his shoulders, he let his cock slide upwards into that sweet, dark, hot hole, in the barest light of the cabin, watching as Jack tensed under him at the entry.

His own breath was harsh as he whispered in Jack's ear, "Is this what you wanted, *Captain*?"

A steady stream of inaudible curses answered him, and he smiled grimly, knowing he'd achieved the desired effect. With a stronger thrust, he surged into Jack's warm, silky sheath, feeling his blade pushing into him as he forced Jack against the cannon under his weight.

"Just for you, Jack," he murmured in Jack's ear, feeling the lithe, supple body responding to him, rising back to meet him, and that willing behind meeting his thrusts.

He tried to rein in a little, but to have naked, willing and stubborn pirate draped over the cannon and begging him for ravishment was more than he could defend against.

Leaning against Jack, thrusting into him, pounding that eager bottom again and again, he felt his balls draw up impossibly tight, and the pressure leaping through his bloodstream was almost too much to bear.

"Do it, fuck; yes," Jack groaned, pushing back against his hard prick, nearly shafting himself on Norrington's strokes into him, and Norrington reached around again to seize Jack's cock.

The grunt of surprise and helpless moan that this caused was most gratifying to his ears. He began to fist Jack with a steady pace, while allowing himself to drown in the delirious sweetness of fucking Jack Sparrow, hard.

Jack tightened beneath him, and he could feel Jack's prick leap in his hand as Jack began to near his own climax. He slowed the pace in which he was fucking the silky, clutching scabbard of Jack's body around his aching erection and said, tightly, "Come for me, that's it. Just like this."

Jack seemed to hang momentarily suspended in the dark, and then gave a loud, guttural moan that almost bespoke of pain, although with the equally wild sensations tearing through Norrington, he knew it wasn't.

Pleasure was cavorting too rapidly all through him and he could feel the echo of it in Jack as the pirate captain abruptly pulsed helplessly jerking in his grasp. Jerking and shuddering between the hardness of Norrington's cock embedded inside of him and the firm hand that had hold of him, Jack was open-mouthed, gasping, moaning, covering Norrington's fist and spraying against the cannon he was pushed over.

God, yes. Norrington was relieved; letting his right hand join his other in a strong hold of Jack's hips now, and he peeled himself a ways off of Jack's limp form, and allowed himself to find his own release.

It was too much, as always, to seek the pure, hot, unremitting pleasure of union with the pirate in this fashion. Every damn time.

It was always a benediction, a renewal of relieved happiness, and an unrelenting torment to know that he'd never found before such a beautifully engaging, charming, willing and heated lover with such a lovely, lovely ass. It was one thing to worship Jack's penis; to run his hands over the tanned skin of his body and luxuriate in the bronze flesh and sultry form. It was quite another to find heaven while jammed as far up inside Jack's body as he could go.

With a strangled yelp that was almost too loud, Norrington climaxed, spilling deep within Jack, wanting to give it all to him, every drop, bucking into him with hot spurts. Gasping out in surprised breaths, he leaned over Jack now, down upon the feverish, damp skin.

And Jack said, amusedly, "D'you mind if we take this back to bed?"

Norrington let out a deep sigh and mouthed the back of Jack's neck. "Not at all. But remember, no singing."

And Jack seemed content to accept this, as he merely replied, "Up. Lift up. Come on."

Norrington pulled out of him and abruptly found himself being wrapped in strong arms.

"Been a while since I let anyone at me backside like that," Jack muttered.

Norrington nodded as if in comprehension. "Happy to oblige, Jack. Next time, don't wait so long to ask for it."

Jack stiffened as if in indignation, then snickered.

As he followed Jack back to bed with a head that felt as though he'd just partaken in the Spartan endurance rigors of old, Norrington commented, "I'll have to keep that ruler close at hand."

"I must say," Jack answered, "I'm rather suspecting you've been a mite too eager to do that to me, yourself."

"Perhaps," Norrington grinned. "Maybe now you'll take me more seriously, when I ask you to let me catch a few winks."

Settling himself under the sheet, Jack huffily replied, "It's not that bad a song."

Norrington didn't respond to this, merely breathed deeply and allowed his exhausted lids to close.

He didn't complain however, when Jack moved to pull Norrington against him, one arm going around him.

He was nearly asleep when he heard the familiar hummed strains. Listening to the few bars Jack was humming, Norrington had to admit that it really wasn't that bad a song, after all. As long as it was Jack singing it. In that lovely voice.

Although he'd never admit it. Far too many potential opportunities it had lent them, to begin accepting it now. And being far too tired at this point to make anything more of it or rise to Jack's baiting, Norrington pretended that he was already falling asleep.

Jack ceased his humming and then chuckled.

Norrington sighed, silently. As always, Jack was too savvy for his own good, or Norrington's.

But then, there was always the morning.


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