Pairing: J/N, Jj, Sparrington
Rating: NC-17 m/m
Archive: Yes, but ask please.
Disclaimer: The Mouse/Bruckheimer Productions owns them, except for Jack Sparrow who belongs to J.Depp. ;-)
Author's Note: When Commodoresexual/Norringtonsez, "Worship me and bring me Sparrington!", who am I to disobey?! ;-) This impromptu session resulted in a smut ficlet.
Inspired by: (see endnote*)
Dedication: For commodoresexual Wren: a Sparrington infusion, after midnight.
Summary: Jack instructs Norrington on the proper forms of Sparrow-worshipping.
Norrington stared at Jack in disbelief. "You want me to- to what?!" he asked, scandalized (and to be honest, not really very surprised, and certainly stunned that Jack would actually suggest it aloud. In public. In a tavern, for Heaven's sake.)
Jack cocked his head to one side, frowning thoughtfully at him. "Worship. It's quite a simple concept really, James. I daresay the cannibal savages of the Carib tribes and even the South Sea Islanders are capable. Surely a fine, upright specimen of British civilization such as yourself can manage it?"
Norrington's eyes narrowed at the pirate who sat across from him at the low, wooden table. "What manner of 'worship', Jack?"
Jack leaned back in his chair, a specious smile stealing over his lips. It did not bade well. "Of myself, my darling Commodore." Then he added with a lift his brows, "Must say, James - you do blush very well."
"Stop it," Norrington hissed. "For God's sake, Jack-" And then he nearly swallowed his tongue as the toe of Jack's lifted boot under the table abruptly slid up the length of his calf, allll the way up his thigh and began to caress the inside of his breeches.
Stiffly, Norrington pushed the offending boot away. It was far too late, of course. The damage was done. He shifted uncomfortably in the seat and asked again, "You're out of your mind, if you think your services are worth my total and complete debasement, Mr. Sparrow."
"Ah, I see," Jack replied, knowingly. "'Cept for when we're in your little cell. Or bedchamber. Or ship, or your office... Right. But no taverns?"
"No taverns," Norrington agreed disapprovingly, glancing about them with the hopes that no one cared enough to pay any attention to an officer and a pirate in the back of the crowded, drunken room.
"Bet I can change your mind," Jack grinned.
Norrington gave him a sardonic look. Then was horrified and most illumined to find Jack had slipped off his boot and was inching his way along his thigh again with his nimble toes, caressing his privates with far too much agility for his peace of mind.
Sucking in a breath, Norrington said, hollowly, "Sparrow...Mister...Jack. Captain. Sparrow," he managed at last, as the wicked toes continued to enflame his already-hardening cock to full-length, painfully cramped within the confines of his breeches. "What manner of worship will you require to stop fondling me in public?"
Jack chuckled under his breath at him. "To fondle me in public, love. Right here an' now. Startin' with me foot. Go on. Start with me big toe. That one's bound to offer a little reciprocatin' for the incovenience, 'ey?"
Mildly as possible under the circumstances, Norrington observed, "I had no idea you have a fetish for feet, Jack. Although I really must protest your revealing this to me here."
Jack lifted his brows at him again, and suggested innocently, "What? Too much for you? Surely you don't think I'd leave you wanting, James me love? I'll be going under the table in a few. But you've got to get me ready. So just suck on me toes a little, and I'll pay you back in kind."
At the thought of Jack crawling under their table to bring him off in this seedy establishment, Norrington had to swallow at the absolutely irresistible temptation it offered.
Matching Jack's eye with some mettle, he agreed, "Alright."
Jack's gaze widened at this, and his amusement slipped. Surprised, he admitted, "Didn't think you would, really."
Norrington gave him a dry, wide smile. "Perhaps you should have reconsidered which portion of your anatomy to ask me to worship?"
Jack blinked at him. "You'd have gone down on me under the table? Well, bloody hell," he muttered, disappointedly, turning to glare about the crowded tavern, his dark hair and beads swinging.
Jack's foot disappeared from Norrington's crotch. Norrington raised one brow at him, and asked mockingly, "Jack? Surely you're not backing down now?"
Jack lifted a finger with a steely expression, his eyes flashing a bit of that dark fire. It was almost comical however, and Norrington had to suppress a smile. "Alright," he said, testily. "But jus' this once." And he slipped down in his chair with one fluid, noiseless motion before Norrington's eyes.
Hard, hot hands parted his knees beneath the wooden table, at which Norrington clenched his teeth and found his fingers turning white-knuckled around the tankard he was gripping before him on the table.
Abruptly, Jack was settling between his thighs, pulling open his breeches and undoing buttons, unseen. And then one rough hand firmly grasped Norrington's cock and he nearly gasped aloud, sucking in a low breath at the warm puff of air on the head of it.
But nothing could have prepared him for the sudden wet warmth that enveloped him whole. Norrington felt lightheaded as the pirate's wicked, wicked tongue danced along the glans, roving upwards greedily to poke with a daring tongue-tip at the tiny slit there and catching liquid drops.
He found himself holding onto the table edge with one hand, the other clutching the tankard as if holding onto a lifeline in raging waters.
For it was a storm, after all; the waves of pleasure shocking through him as Jack's torturously hot mouth continued to lave unwarranted punishment upon his errant member.
Worship, indeed, a vestigial smattering of mental ability whispered in the corner of his mind, just before the sucking and the laving of that slick interior took him all the way in, and he felt the cooler press of the tip of Jack's nose against his lower belly, and all the while, his cock was screaming, pulsing, thready with fire and lust and unholy arousal...
He bit his lower lip hard, half-hoping the pain would aid him in retaining some semblance of control, but as the copper filled his mouth, he felt all the blood rush from his head and pleasure was shooting out of him into Jack's all-too-eager mouth.
As the tempest in his veins pooled in his groin and all his breath left his body, Norrington found himself near-collapsing in his chair, his organ pumping helplessly now into that inviting, wet, sucking infernal heat, filling Jack's mouth with cream and hoping, praying that the low keening noise of pain-pleasure-urgency he emitted wasn't noticed by anyone.
For a moment, the room swam before him, and he felt a dream-like sensation overtaking his senses.
And then his satiated cock was being tucked ever-so-neatly back into his breeches and buttoned in.
He stared as Jack reappeared, licking his lips with a crafty expression.
"Your turn now, I believe," Jack said, with no small measure of satisfaction.
Norrington's bones felt like they'd turned to water, in the glowing aftermath of his pleasure, but he raised the tankard and took a healthy swallow of ale. "Very well, Captain. After such a…heartfelt demonstration of proper worship, I can hardly refuse you."
"Bollocks," Jack rejoined instantly, in good humor. "You're hungry for it, mate. I can see it in you, sitting there all starched and fine in your braid and finery. You just can't wait to 'ave your lips wrapped around me fine sword again, is all."
"Whoever said anything about your 'sword', Jack?" Norrington smiled at him, acidly. "I shall, however, do justice to your big toe, as we agreed."
The disappointment and horror at his words was joined with a crestfallen look that sat all too prettily upon Jack's face. Norrington nearly relented at it, but he couldn't resist needling him further. "After all, I shall have a right devil of a time trying to fit under this table, as I'm possessing of a little more height than you are, Mister Sparrow. You'll have to wait until we return to our lodgings," he pointed out, reasonably.
Jack looked mournfully at him. Scowling, he answered, "Cruel, cruel commodores, with no sense of fair play or reciprocation."
Norrington gave a single, noncommittal laugh, as he said, "Really, Jack. It was your foot that started all this to begin with."
Ignoring Jack's dark glower, he continued, "But I suppose I do owe you, and for more than the inconvenience of driving me to the point of madness in a public tavernhouse." He slipped down in his chair, finding it somewhat awkward given his lankier build, and couldn't emulate Jack's graceful slide. Still, he did manage to hunker down in the darkness.
Jack's knees parted a little too quickly, and all too hopefully, and Norrington found himself grinning ironically at this display. Reaching up a hand and settling between Jack's legs, he palmed the pirate's groin, rewarded with a helpful shimmying in place. Ah yes. Very hard, and very stiff.
He sighed. Dark and lonely work; still, he had no intention of actually denying Jack his 'worship' he so seemed set on receiving. Then again, Norrington thought to himself sneakily…
He'd never specified how long Norrington should worship him for, exactly. A smile of pure evil slid over his face as he unbuttoned and freed Jack's impatient member. It was too dark to see, but the familiar scent of his lover, and the remembered sight of that reddened, dusky organ was territory he already knew, and leaning forward, he lapped gently at the stem, sliding down to mouth too softly with his lips at the root.
Jack was very silent, out of sight above him. Contented tremblings were already starting however, in the body he was administering to, and Norrington deliberately kept from moving too quickly, or allowing any pressure upon Jack's cock.
With deliberate, teasing flicks of his tongue along the base, and then moving upwards, he continued to mouth along the now-vibrating length, ignoring the head.
He had to smile around it, as Jack began to squirm in place. A muffled intake of breath reached his ears; loud enough to transmit some distress. Norrington hummed with a knowing sound at it.
Now he heard Jack's low, threatening voice drift down to him in an undertone from above the tabletop. "So help me, James, if you don't bring this to a conclusion, I'll- I'll-"
Norrington let slip the straining cock from his grasp, and he retorted, "You'll what?"
Silence. Pause. An exasperated grunt. "Alright, alright. Just…get on with it!"
Slightly mollified by the pleading note in Jack's reply, Norrington grabbed hold of him again and this time went in for the kill. Opening wide he simply took the whole of him into his mouth, sucking him down with quick, shafting motions, allowing the length to spear his open jaws, loving the way his lips moved over the silky weight.
Jack's low, strangled squeak was delightful.
Keeping up a bobbing rhythm, he heard another gasp - dear, dear; Jack was being far too loud - and he quickly brought his other hand to fondle Jack's full balls beneath, sliding one finger under to rub at his entrance. The table groaned and creaked as Jack brought both his hands to the edge, pushing a little too hard.
The legs clasping him on either shoulder, against his upper arms, tightened, and suddenly Jack was pulsing helplessly against him, thrusting in jerks, spilling into Norrington's mouth, and Norrington found himself rewarded with a groan that sounded harshly torn from Jack's throat, albeit with an attempt to stifle it.
He kept at it though, long after Jack had stilled, and relaxed, until Jack hissed above him and tried to pull away.
"Enough- enough, mate! Are you tryin' to kill me here, 'ey?!" came the panted exclamation.
Norrington complied, and left him sitting there with his over-sensitized cock hanging out, and slid back up into his chair.
Licking his lips in a deliberate manner intended to imitate Jack's act before, Norrington said, "Well? You've had your fun, as have I. Next time, I believe I'll be choosing when and where."
Grumbling, Jack pulled his breeches closed, hands busy as he rebuttoned himself. "You're not playing very nicely, James, darling."
Norrington tutted at him. "Such ingratitude, Jack. And after what I just did for you. Really."
Jack gave him a shifty smile that didn't reach his eyes, and tilted his head, regarding him. "So, where to now, then? Seein' as you've decided to play at bein' master of ceremonies?"
Norrington considered taking a last draught of the ale, and then smiled smugly at Jack, not wanting to wash the taste of him away just yet.
"Well, we haven't yet christened my desk. I've half a mind to ensure that not another night passes without having seen it done."
"I've already been under your desk," Jack replied, looking boredly about them.
"Yes, but I've not had you on it," Norrington said, significantly.
Jack merely grinned and lifted his own tankard. "Well, then. It's off to Fort Charles then, 'ey? Cheers," and he drained his ale.
Fini ~ (Cold shower time. Back in a bit.)
*Inspired by: MonkeyPuzzle's incredible Bhimpalasi BJ and commodoresexual's teaser: "i love writing jackgoingdownonjamesyesido...."
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