||[Aug. 11th, 2005|11:40 am]
And then there was Pie. And it was good.
Title: Naval Tarts
Disclaimer: Right, we all know I don't own them.
Kinks--er, Warnings: dark!Norrington, bondage, non-con, the illicit use of Navy property
The young lieutenant—Jack hadn’t caught his name yet—hustled him into the captain’s cabin, where Commodore Norrington was finishing his evening meal. Jack eyed a plate of cherry tarts, his mouth watering, but the lieutenant pulled him up sharply.
“The prisoner, sir.”
Norrington, blast him, took his time setting a napkin down on the table and primly adjusting his cuffs. The cabin floor was cold against his bare feet, and he felt vulnerable and off-balance clad only in shirt and breeches, his effects across the bay in Port Royal’s prison. He must’ve looked uncomfortable too, because Norrington grinned. Not a nice grin. Damn it.
“Now, let’s see if we can’t come to an accord,” Jack began, speaking fast. “See here,” he batted his eyes appealingly, “I’m sure there’s something I can offer you gentlemen.” Yes, there, just the right throaty tone. Norrington was an aristocrat, but he wasn’t made of stone, right? And he just knew the lieutenant was corruptible. It was in his eyes, and in how close he stood to his prisoner.
“Good, we can get right to the point,” Norrington said. “Sparrow, you have made advances to nearly every member of my crew during this short voyage home. You have flirted shamelessly in an attempt to win your freedom, and I have come to a conclusion.” He showed that grin again. “You are a tease.”
Was this good, or not good? He couldn’t tell. “Mate, no teasing here. I’m a man of me word. Set me free, and I’ll make it,” he licked his lips, “worth your while, savvy?”
A brief chuckle, and the commodore rose to his feet, looming over the pirate. He’d forgotten that Norrington was so tall. “Really, Sparrow, what makes you think I have to make any deals with you?” Definitely not good. “I think it’s time you made good on your promises. Later...we’ll see if you’ve earned your freedom.” Not good, not good, damn but he wished he was drunk. Norrington seemed pleased by his reaction.
“Very well. Lt. Groves, strip him.”
Jack struggled, but unarmed and with his hands bound in front of him he stood little chance against the two naval officers. The pair stripped him efficiently, cutting his shirt off his arms and pulling his breeches over his twisting legs. Equal parts anger and desire were flooding through him, and he knew he was getting hard. He’d always loved a man who knew exactly what he wanted. Norrington backed up slightly, allowing him to regain his feet, and Groves grabbed his bare arm. Then with a chuckle, Groves reached around him and slid a fist lightly over his cock.
“Looks like he really is a slut.” He hand was rough, a sailor’s hand, and Jack hissed between his teeth. This wasn’t how he’d imagined this little interview at all. Norrington was supposed to be safe, too honorable to dream of molesting a prisoner in his charge. Jack admitted to himself that maybe he’d gone overboard in teasing the commodore...but he’d thought his provocation had been wasted on the stone-faced officer. Clearly not. His cock jumped again in the lieutenant’s—Groves’?—hand. Norrington watched, coolly amused and dangerous. He hadn’t realized that the man was dangerous, and the knowledge set a black fire burning low in his belly. Oh yes, he was going to regret this. Later.
Norrington nodded to Lt. Groves, who dragged Jack back toward the cabin door. Norrington held it open and the threesome stepped out on deck. The evening breeze brought up goose bumps on Jack’s overheated skin, naked next to the two fully clothed men. Breathing hard, he blinked until his vision steadied. He’d rarely felt so vulnerable. The ship was still deserted, the crew dismissed on shore leave, only a few lanterns burning against the dark of the night. They approached the mainmast and Jack squinted. There was something off about the rigging, he could see that even in the dim light. A pair of pulleys had been added to the yardarm, a length of rope strung across them. And hanging from the rope between the pulleys was a large iron hook.
He tried to break away, to reach the black water whispering of freedom against the side of the Dauntless. He struggled and babbled, pleadingly, but within moments the hook had been pulled down and slid between his hands. Groves held him again, tightly against the rough cloth of his uniform, while Norrington casually attached one end of the rope to a large sandbag, yanking the hook and Jack’s hands up and to the side. Moving to the other side, he pulled hard on the other end of rope and the hook rose toward the pulleys. Perforce, Jack’s hands rose with it.
“I strongly suggest that you hold onto the hook,” Norrington said, still amused. Knowing he had the right of it, Jack grasped the rough iron as Norrington leaned back into his work, hoisting Jack off his feet. Groves released him and went to aid his commanding officer as they fixed the end of the rope around a second sandbag. Gently enough, they let the sandbag fall free, swaying slightly as the entire contraption adjusted to the various weights attached.
Jack hung from his wrists with his toes just brushing the planking. The sand bags on either side balanced his weight but swung free in the air. He was a strong man, a sailor all his life, and he knew his arms could support him without too much pain—for a short time. His cock had drooped slightly, reflecting his confusion and fear.
“You’ve got interesting ideas, mate,” he managed to gasp out. “I’d always thought a nice soft bed the place for a ravishment, meself...” A warm finger at his lips silenced him. Groves stood in front of him, immaculate in wig and coat, eyes alight with lust and mischief. Then he felt hands behind him take hold of his hips, jerking him down. He cried out as the pressure on his arms increased, and then he rose again as the sandbags reasserted their relationship with gravity.
“Perfect,” Norrington said, he voice uneven and hoarse. He moved closer to Jack’s back, hands still gripping his hipbones. “Now, let’s see.” A questing finger slid slowly between his buttocks, rubbing at the entrance to his body, and then pushing inexorably inside. His bit back a whimper of pain at the dry probe. “Oh, yes, Ted, I believe you are right. You must have traded this fine ass many times, my friend, whoring around.” Each word stirred his hair and fanned hot breath against his ear, and Jack shivered. Groves had reached out to stroke his cock again, rhythmically, as the long finger invaded him. “I do believe I have finally discovered the means to silence you,” he added, and Jack tried to pull his scattered thoughts together long enough to speak.
“Not a chance,” he groaned just as Norrington’s finger found the sweet spot and made him see stars. “’M just—” but his words were cut off as the commodore abruptly withdrew his finger and pulled Jack down again, firmly impaling him on what felt like an impossibly huge cock, it was splitting him in two, driving into him—and then pulling out as suddenly as the counterweights lifted him away. Jack shouted wordlessly as Norrington brought him back down, and let him rise, down and up again. Pain and pleasure slammed him inescapably as he rode Norrington as helplessly as a rag doll.
A new sensation penetrated the haze that was closing over his mind. Groves was kneeling on box in front of him, hand still wrapped around the base of his cock, and leaned forward to close his mouth over his length. Jack held on to the hook like it was his hope for salvation and shut his eyes, panting. Groves’ throat, wet, unbearably hot, burned along his cock as he jerked upward and Norrington’s cock fucked him ruthlessly as he was pulled back down. It was too much, it was the whole fucking world, his body had become nothing but a vehicle for the fire of his nerves.
At some point during that eternity, Norrington came with a soft moan, filling Jack with his seed. The small noise pushed Jack over the edge and he bucked and swayed between the two men as the pleasure ripped through him and his vision went black. When he finally surfaced, he found his feet on the deck, his hands unbound. Unsteadily, he blinked at Norrington and opened his mouth. Oh God, was he crying? Not that. He stumbled forward and the Commodore caught him, pulling him into a tight embrace against the chilly metal buttons of the uniform he still wore.
“Easy, easy,” he whispered into the crown of Jack’s head, crooning wordlessly and stroking the mass of beads and dreadlocks with one hand. Jack buried his face in Norrington’s vest, not really sobbing but breathing in painful hitches. Needing to feel something solid, something real, he slid his hands around Norrington’s waist and pulled himself even closer. His shoulders were numb and clumsy, and the thought darted briefly across his mind that they were likely to be even sorer than his ass, come morning. Eventually, his breathing slowed and Norrington took hold of his upper arms to push him back.
“Well, Commodore, sir, I believe you said something about freedom, eh?” he said, and inwardly cursed his shaking voice.
A strong arm snaked around him from behind and he fell back startled into Lt. Groves’. Damn, he’d forgotten all about him.
“The evening is not yet at an end, Sparrow,” Norrington said, his own voice smooth once more although his face was flushed. Through Groves’ linen breeches, Jack could feel a hard cock enthusiastically if wordlessly agreeing. “I believe Lt. Groves has a fantasy of his own to pursue?”
“Yes sir,” Groves said, and Jack shuddered in mingled exhaustion and apprehension. He’d just had the most violent—and intense—sexual experience of his life, and all he wanted was to curl up and sleep. Between Norrington and Groves, if they insisted. He could live with that. But as Groves and Norrington pulled him back to the captain’s cabin, he doubted that he would get what he wanted.
Well. Maybe something he didn’t yet know he wanted. The navy had more to show him than he'd ever thought. As Groves removed his wig and began pulling his clothes off, Norrington embraced him again, forcing hard, sweet kisses against his mouth, thrusting his tongue between his teeth. Jack’s head was swimming, light, and he surrendered bonelessly. Best to wait until the odds were on his side, and that would happen, oh yes. One day, these naval tarts would be at his mercy.
Meanwhile, might as well take it as it came.
Cross-posted to my ficjournal, sparrington, and ageofsail_kink