At my Command - Part 1

"A ship"! Norrington shouted a second time.

Still stunned, Sparrow didnīt respond.

"A ship," Norrington repeated insistently.

"I see it," the pirate mumbled finally.

Norrington didnīt understand his restrained reaction. "Donīt you want to get rescued?"

"Aye. But Iīm a pirate. Rescue for me means going to the gallows."

"You donīt know that. It could be another ship."

"Itīs the Dauntless."

"How could you..." Norrington looked back at the ship, which was anchoring before the isle. Dear God! Itīs true. Why didnīt I see it? Did I become mad and blind here? "You are right. Itīs a miracle. We have to make a fire. Quick."

"Donīt bother, mate. Theyīre coming." Sparrow was right again.

Norrington could see them lowering a boat to water.

"Isnīt that a lovely surprise?" the pirate mocked.

Not listening, Norringtonīs attention was fixed on the little boat, which was approaching fast. Someone was shouting in their direction. After a few more feet, Norrington caught the words.

"Commodore, are you alright?"

"Itīs yer dear Gillette," Sparrow noticed.

Still not listening to him, Norrington became instantly aware of his looks. No shirt and boots, dirty breeches, weird sandy hair, the face burnt up by the sun. Not remotely resembling a British officer, never mind a Commodore.

Waving his hand, Gillette shouted: "Commodore! We are so glad you are well! We had almost given up hope finding you alive!"

Only now Norrington was remembering the pirate at his side, noticing his sad smile. He didnīt respond to Gillette, because all manner of thoughts were running through his mind: Does Sparrow believe Iīll clap him at once in irons and send him straight to the gallows? Of course he does. And he is right, isnīt he? I serve the law, not myself.

The boat landed, Gillette and the crew were jumping out, splashing through the water, onto the beach. Without warning, Gillette lifted his musket and with its wooden handle knocked Sparrow brutally over the head.

"Gillette, what are you doing? Leave him alone!" Norrington ordered sharply.

Holding his head, the pirate moaned.

Surprised and a bit shocked by the look from his superior officer, Gillette didnīt obey immediately. "But Sir, that bastard kidnapped and...."

Norrington didnīt let him finish. "He didnīt kidnap me, he rescued me from drowning. Treat him decent." Seeing the pirate throwing a satisfied smile at Gillette by hearing this, Norringtonīs sympathy turned directly to angry thoughts. You filthy rat. Iīll wipe that smile of your face. "Still, he is a pirate. We will get him back to Port Royal and there he will hang. As the law requires it."

"Aye Sir." Gillette grabbed the pirate, who miraculously was still smiling.

Norrington scowled at Jackīs face. Donīt you understand my words or donīt you believe, I will make them come true?

Brutally, Gillette pushed the pirate in the direction of the boat.

Handicapped by his injured leg, he stumbled and fell in the water. "Ah!" Sparrow cried out, overreacting slightly in Norringtonīs opinion.

Nevertheless, he ordered in a brisk voice: "Gillette, donīt push him around. Just bring him on board."

Gilletteīs facial muscles were tensing. "Aye Sir." He grabbed the pirate, pulling him to his feet and threw him in the boat.

This time, Sparrow didnīt make a sound, but his smile grew even wider.

Sighing quietly, Norrington shook his head. The pirate is playing his game and Gillette is already falling for it. Wading to the boat himself, he got in and sat down at Sparrowīs side. While the crew was rowing back to the Dauntless, Norrington growled in a low voice, so only Sparrow could hear him: "Having fun?"

"Aye." The pirate presented his most adorable grin. "Who wouldnīt have, luv."

"Stop calling me that at once," Norrington hissed. "Are you out of your mind?"

Gillette, who was standing at the front of the boat, turned around, watching them with inquiring eyes.

Both men fell silent.

After he had turned back, Sparrow asked bluntly: "Is he yer lover?"

Enraged, Norrington stroke one blow with his fist on the pirateīs injured leg, Sparrow inhaled sharply and remained quiet.


On board, Norrington addressed Gillette with one particular question, not hiding his astonishment: "How did you manage to find me?"

"Well Sir, we simply searched all the islands in the area around the position, where we were fighting Sparrowīs ship."

Norrington smiled at the young man. "You are an excellent officer, Gillette."

"Thank you, Sir." He turned to face their prisoner. "Iīll take him under deck and clap him in irons."

"No," the Commodore objected. "Give him water, food and refresh the bandage on his injury." The peculiar glance from Gillette to Sparrowīs bandaged leg led Norrington to almost laugh out loud. He was sure the officer was asking himself what exactly had happened on the island . Certainly, he had noticed the bandage was made out of the Commodoreīs shirt, who wore none at the moment. "A shark," Norrington told him curtly. "As I said, take care of Sparrow, then bind his hands behind his back. But let him walk around freely on this ship. He canīt escape."

"But Commodore...."

"Follow my orders, Gillette."

Before the officer could answer, the pirate interrupted them in a cheery voice: "I wouldnīt mind a new pair of breeches either."

"And give him some breeches," Norrington continued mildly.

Reluctantly, Gillette obeyed. "Aye, Sir."

"What about some rum?" the pirate added smooth-tongued.

Norrington shook resolutely his head. "No. No rum."

Gillette ordered the pirate to follow him.

Sparrow threw one last glimpse at Norrington, smiling like the devil himself.

Norrington watched the pirate until he was out of sight, then he turned and walked to his quarters.


After a few hours of resting, Norrington was walking around on deck. It was already night, the ship was moving smoothly through the water, eager to reach its destination, Port Royal, and bringing the Commodore back to the life of a British officer.
Washed, combed and dressed in fresh clothes, he felt better as he had for days. Lingering on the rail, staring into the night, he breathed the salty air of the ocean in.
Safe, clean and on my way back to home, I should be feeling glad, he considered. But I donīt feel the way, I expected. And whoīs fault is this? Only the pirateīs, of course. Haunting my thoughts, haunting me, his looks, his words, his smile. He was telling me, it isnīt over yet.
Then again, thatīs nonsense. It is definitely over. But, what am I thinking? Nothing can be over, because nothing has ever started. Nothing. He is just a pirate and in a few days, he will go to the gallows and it will be over. RIGHT?
Sighing, he leaned his forehead on the rail. He didnīt know, what to think or feel, anymore. He was confused, more confused as he was back then with Tommy. His beloved Tommy, whose life had been wasted for the crown. In the fight against the most evil disease of the ocean.

Pirates.

The enemy.

On the day Tommy died, he started to believe a pirate was the worst evil on Godīs earth. A parasite, a thing, whose only purpose was to get killed. The only good pirate was a dead pirate became his firm belief.
Until now.
Meeting Jack Sparrow changed everything. These days on the island had made him weak and confused. Before all this, Norrington would have ordered every pirate to be clapped in irons. But not him. Not Sparrow. He could understand Gilletteīs confusion, because he couldnīt understand his own acts. Something else bothered him as well.
He felt regret at leaving the island and this sensation astonished and scared him. And he asked himself why. Losing the opportune moment to get fucked by a pirate? Missing the chance to fuck him?
Dear God, what is wrong with me? Was my life always so...boring? The answer, he had to give to himself was: No, but it was in order.
And that was bothering him. Order has been enough, but it will not be.
Well, he tried to calm himself down, in a few days the pirate will be hanged. The law demands it. Then, my life will be in order again.
But the truth was, he couldnīt imagine Jack Sparrow dead. Not at the moment. Not because of him. Thinking about him dead turned his blood into ice. Suddenly shivering, he left the rail, ready to go back to his quarters. He knew, he didnīt shiver, because it was cold. It was a warm Caribbean night. He was deliberating to go looking for Sparrow, wherever he was. But no. Ridiculous.

Closing the door of his quarters quietly, he stood in the dark, waiting. Waiting for what?
Finally, he moved to find the table, because he wanted to light one candle. He wasnīt in the mood for much brightness.

"Donīt," pleaded a well-known voice from the back of the cabin.

In shock, Norrington cursed fiercely, but keeping his voice low. "Bloody Hell. What are you doing? How did you get in here?"

"Pirate. Savvy?"

Norrington swore some more.

The pirate chuckled quietly. "Itīs no big secret, mate. I climbed through yer back window."

"With bound hands?" the Commodore mocked.

"They arenīt bound anymore. Ye should have taken me in better custody. Like yer dear Gillette suggested."

"Next time, I will." He found the candle and lit it. "How did you get rid of your bonds?"

"Old pirate trick. Canīt tell ye."

"Where are you?"

"Here. In your bunk. Waiting hopefully for ye to come around."

That arrogant bastard. Putting the candle back on the table, Norrington went there, only to be confronted with the visible bruised face of Captain Jack Sparrow.

Even so, the pirate lingered relaxed and smiling on the smooth blanket of his bed.

"What the hell happened to your face?" Norrington asked, pretty angry.

"Oh that. Nothing much. Only a little beating to a filthy pirate."

"I did order Gillette to treat you fair."

"I know ye did. I think yer dear Gillette didnīt mind yer order. Maybe he is a little jealous, savvy?"

"Youīre really mad, Sparrow. By the way, he isnīt my dear Gillette."

Amused by his outrage, Sparrow teased further: "No? I think, he would like to be."

Not willing to respond to this ridiculous comment, Norrington changed the subject. "How is your leg?"

"Much better, mate." Not falling for the distraction, Sparrow smiled invitingly. "Come on, join me."

"Starting again? I think our little adventure ended by leaving that island."

"Itīs no game. Iīm bloody serious."

Obviously nailed to the ground, on which he was standing, Norrington showed no reaction, until Sparrow grabbed his breeches. "I need yer gentle hands to nurse me back to health. Ye have much better skills, than yer Gillette."

Defensive, Norrington tried to free himself of Sparrowīs hands. "Donīt."

But Sparrow didnīt let go. "Donīt I deserve a little gentleness?"

A few seconds more of Norringtonīs half-hearted resistance, than he half fell, half was pulled into Sparrowīs waiting arms.

Naughty, the pirate snuggled instantly against his body. "Mmh, luv. This is really nice. Even better than the island. Without all the sand and the heat." His searching hand found Norringtonīs cock, already fully erect. "So horny for the filthy pirate. Iīm surprised, me dear Commodore."

With all his strength, Norrington pushed him on his back, getting on top of him. "This is crazy. At any moment someone could come in here."

"Oh, Iīm sure nobody would dare to enter here without yer permission."

"Except you."

"Not even me."

"Ha, when did you ever get my..."

"When ye allowed me to suck yer dick."

Silence.

Sparrow rubbed firmly against him. "Donīt ye savvy. Iīm begging here."

"I told you. You wonīt fuck me."

A big grin appeared on Sparrowīs face. "Thatīs it, isnīt it? Well luv. I already told ye, I want to get fucked by ye."

Green ocean eyes met black night eyes. Norrington didnīt move. Sparrow did instead. Wrapping his arms around him, pulling him close for a kiss. A very gentle one. So tender, so soft, it crushed Norringtonīs resistance completely. Melting to a shapeless lump, Norrington opened his mouth, kissing him back with all his heart, sucking on the other manīs lips, like it would be the last time.

Drawing in needed breath, Sparrow teased: "Tell me mate, when will ye run away this time?"

Wild sparkles in his eyes, Norrington snarled: "Youīre talking way too much, pirate."

"So, shut me...."

The Commodore did.

In a way, Sparrow didnīt mind at all.

This kiss was the longest they had ever shared. Exploring each other deeply and longingly, they crossed the border of going back. Finding every place, hidden in their souls. Their hands were grabbing and teasing at their clothes, pulling and tearing away the last barricade between them.

On and off, the pirate flinched in pain, because the fresh bandaged injury on his leg complained against the rough tangle of lust. But Sparrow didnīt care, neither Norrington.

Next time, they stopped for breathing; Norrington found his enemy naked and vulnerable lying under him. Overwhelmed by the pure touch of that smooth, tanned body and the sensation of their pulsating cocks between them, Norrington pressed the other man deeper in the pillows, making him squirm in lust. Finally, he gave up all his self-control. Nothing else mattered anymore.

Hostility. Dead. Living. Officers. Pirates. Tommy. Nothing. Only this here.

That pirate, nibbling and sucking on his nipples.

"James..." he moaned. "I can call ye James now, eh? On the special occasion...."

Bloody pirate. Norrington captured his mouth again, keeping him from uttering more such nonsense. Fumbling for Sparrowīs cock, stroking it slowly, until the pirate whimpered into his mouth. His body pressed harder against him, his fingernails clawed into the skin of his back.

Tearing his lips away, Sparrow whispered huskily: "Now. Fuck me now."

His heart pounded in his ears and Norrington nodded, because he couldnīt speak.

The pirate moved under him and tried to turn.

Catching his intention, Norrington put him back. "No."

"Eh?"

"I want to see your face."

Pure surprise flickered over Sparrowīs face, his pupils widened, then he got his control back. "Whatever ye command, but I have to say...."

The pirate kept talking while Norrington fetched a small bottle of oil from a board over the bunk. He opened it and lubricated his cock careful.

Sparrow ended his speech and chuckled enrapt. "At any time prepared, eh?"

Norrington didnīt answer. Swiftly, he spread the pirateīs legs, lifted them a bit and positioned himself.

Sparrow bent his head back and observed him with a twinkle in his eye. "Go on. Take me."

Powerful, Norrington pushed inside the luscious hole.

Sparrow gasped loudly and lustful. "Ah. Yes." His body arched up.

Sliding his cock in deeper, Norrington groaned by the blissful feeling of hotness and tightness all around. It was almost too much. He had to gather his control a bit, keeping himself from coming at once. Taking the shaft yet deeper, made Sparrow grab his arms fiercely.

"Ye British devil, ye did this before."

"Sure." Norrington smirked. "Not arguing about that." He gave another powerful stroke into him.

"Oh. Oh yes. Me neither."

Shafting the pirate harder and faster with every stroke, he was coming to a smooth, passionate rhythm, knowing, he would lose this fight soon. Panting and moaning in unity with the pirate, looking in these night-eyes, he got quickly consumed by all the heat and lust. Feeling Sparrowīs arms suddenly around his neck, he jerked in sudden fear, plunging even harder into his enemy.

Uncontrolled, Sparrow cried out. "James!"

Startled, Norrington put a hand on the pirateīs mouth. "Shhhh."

The bastard bit him.

Cursing under his breath, he put down his lips on Sparrowīs mouth instead, making his surrender more pleasant. Bruising each others lips, fighting with their tongues, challenging the other, until they had no breath left.

The last control snapped, Sparrowīs breath came in ragged gasps. "More, more. Give it to me. Give it to the pirate."

Unleashed, Norrington obeyed and let himself fall into the pure consuming lust. Heat and pressure rushed through his cock and out of him. Inside Sparrow. To stifle his loud groans of pleasure, he bit into the soft, sweet flesh of Sparrowīs shoulder. Hard.

Another cry of the pirate, while his hot fluids spilled out of him, moistening the skin between their bodies.

It was over, their heartbeats slowed down, their bodies rested.

But Norrington didnīt move, keeping his spent cock in the pirate, who didnīt complain.

Stroking the hair on Norringtonīs head, which was pressed against his neck, Sparrow mumbled amused: "Ye wanted ME marked with YER monkey bite, all ye had to do was ask, savvy?"

"Sorry." Ashamed, he kissed the wounded shoulder gently. Seeing a bit blood, he licked it away.

Sparrow hugged him more intimate, obviously having no intention of letting him go soon. "No worries, luv. I didnīt mind."

Norrington didnīt answer. Having the pirate so close, made him feel intensely good. As weak as he was at the moment, he wanted to take him again. Again and again. Iīm really going mad here. Whatīs wrong with me? Will I become the slave of a pirate? Get a grip. Sudden and unexpected, he lifted himself up, sliding out of Sparrow.

The pirate didnīt look glad, but he let him be.

Norrington went to the washbowl and started to clean himself.

The eyes of Sparrow were burning holes in his back. "Itīs better, Iīm leaving, before we get caught." Getting up himself, he started to look for his clothes.

But Norrington did suddenly change his mind. "No. Please stay."

Still fully naked, the pirate tilted his head, looking at him curiously, while a smile touched the centres of his mouth. "Aye. Iīll stay, if ye say me name. Savvy?"

Puzzled, Norrington lifted his eyebrows, but finally, after clearing his throat, he uttered visibly embarrassed: "Stay ... Jack."

The pirateīs grin consumed him. "Wasnīt so hard, eh?" Strolling to Norrington, he asked: "Are ye finished?"

"Yes." Leaving him with the washbowl, Norrington put on his breeches and climbed back into the bunk. Allowing himself to watch the naked Sparrow washing his slender body.

Eventually, the pirate turned around, smiling knowingly. "Having fun, mate?"

To his own and Sparrowīs astonishment, he admitted truthfully: "Yes. You are pretty, but I believe you know that anyway."

Stunned by the confession, Sparrow quit teasing him. "Yeīre quite pretty yerself, luv. Tommy never told ye?"

Norrington didnīt answer.

Dressed with breeches, Sparrow took the place beside him, stretching out his body. His next question came quite a shock. "Was Tommy yer lover?"

"I really donīt...."

"What? Was it yer big secret?"

"Actually it was."

"Well?"

"Already starting bothering me again...," Norrington commenced.

"...ye filthy pirate," Sparrow finished.

Norrington escaped a chuckle. "I surely deserve that. And, yes, Tommy was my lover. Satisfied now?"

"Not...quite. How did he die?"

Norrington sighed. "Sparrow..."

"Jack."

"All right. Jack...I donīt..."

"James, I gave meself to ye. Itīs time, ye give something back."

For seconds, Norrington stared at him, then he blurted out: "A pirate killed him. Thatīs it. End of story." Exhausted, Norrington closed his eyes.

Muted for moments, Jack shifted a bit around, then mumbled with compassion: "Iīm really sorry. Do ye want me to leave?"

"No. It happened a long time ago. It doesnīt matter anymore."

"Now, yeīre lying, mate. I think it still matters to ye. I think, ye did love him."

"Who wouldnīt have. Tommy was quite adorable."

"Aye. A fine, young, respectable, British boy."

Silence.

Norrington opened his eyes, seeing the pirate had turned on his side, showing his back to him. Suddenly, he felt the urge to tell him more about Tommy. The not quite respectable Tommy. Reckless. Wild. Irresponsible. Always on top of him. But he didnīt. Instead, he placed his arm around Jackīs body, pulling him close to his own. No resistance came. For the moment surrendering, they went to sleep in peace.