None of the men in his command knew the real reason why Commodore James Norrington was in a foul mood that day. If told the truth, it would be unlikely any of them would believe it either…

After a night of ridiculously energetic passion, James had finally worn himself and his bed partner out. They laid curled up together, hopelessly tangled up in sheets and limbs.

Pushing a particularly scratchy rope of beaded hair away from where it had flopped onto his face, James sighed and squirmed a bit closer to Jack.

“Is all this really necessary?” he asked the perpetually beaded and scruffy pirate, with a pointed look at the offending mop.

“Oh course is’ not. I jus’ figured you to be a man of some formality. The type who appreciates the finer things,” Jack said pausing as he ran the hand not currently trapped beneath James along the expensive, embroidered sheets, “… like beds. Of course if you’d rather we meet in some back alley and make use of any available surfaces, dirty wooden boxes could work just as easily.” Jack said suggestively. “Though obviously they’d not be as comfortable,” he added as an afterthought remembering a splinter he’d acquired some years back, in a very tender place.

A verbal response to his purposely misunderstood wording was curiously absent, Jack noticed. He also noticed the slight flush that had only just begun to leave the commodore’s pale chest, had returned full force. Rolling closer to James, Jack carelessly flung an arm over said chest and put his lips lightly against the man’s ear. In whispered tones, with his lips just barely touching skin he asked, “Would you like to meet somewhere else next time then, Luv?” His hand ghosted softly over James ribs, up to his chest. He could feel James heart nearly racing despite their exhausted states. “You want to know what it’s like out there? Want to feel me touch you in the open air? Feel your body against mine jus’ steps away from th’ rest of the world?”

James body answered the whispered questions without his consent, though not without his mind’s agreement. He wouldn’t consider himself an exhibitionist by any stretch of the imagination, but Norrington had long since accepted that despite his better judgment, he always felt the allure of participating in certain activities in less than reputable locations.

Perhaps too many years of being unattached and only allowing himself the rather dubious pleasure of paid company in back alleys and behind bars had twisted him. James considered himself an upstanding citizen but even he had made use of the services of unfortunates on occasion, though never, ever had he taken them to his home. He paid them well (far too well in fact, which only served as evidence of the guilt he felt) and tried to justify his actions later to himself as giving them aid as well as solving his own problems however shameful in nature and temporary in relief. No, despite his past instances of weakness in the face of his animal nature, James still considered himself a good, virtuous and upstanding citizen. After all, it had never ceased to astound him the number of so-called good men who he caught glimpses of when he occasionally did break down and accept the temptations of prostitutes to accompany them into dark corners.

With Jack it was different. The stakes were significantly higher in many ways. The thought of being discovered in sex acts with another man by one of his officers was appalling and more than dangerous. It could well mean the end of his career, particularly since said man was none other than the very wanted Captain Jack Sparrow. Lord knows he always felt a distinct sense of urgency and fear when trying to get the prostitutes to quickly finish him off. So he should feel terror and revulsion at the idea of being caught in some dark alley in a compromising position with Sparrow, should he not?

Why then was the very idea making him half hard even now?

The feel of rough bricks scraping his back through the material of his shirt as he leaned against the wall … the darkness obscuring them from prying eyes located alarmingly close in the street … music and laughter from inside the tavern spilling out into the alleyway, surrounding them … the light from the open doorway just a scant few inches from Jack’s heels where the pirate knelt, hot mouth working in strong, rhythmic pulses around his shaft … beads swinging and glinting in the moonlight as the dark messy hair swung slightly at Jack’s rocking movements, his hand twined in the black mop, guiding the movements as he thrust his hips just a bit…

And sitting at his desk now, the day after, and thinking back on last night, James was again hard despite his anger at Jack. He certainly hadn’t intended to nod off mid thought but at some point his fantasy had taken him into exhausted sleep without his knowledge. After all he and Jack had been up to last night it was little wonder.

However, that was apparently not an excuse for Jack had clearly been less than pleased by this. James had been pestering Jack that he expected to find the pirate still in his bed come morning, not awaken to find himself alone and the window ajar as had been Jack’s habit in the past. Jack had almost mocked the order as sentimental but James had effectively not only silenced the pirate, but he had also convinced Jack to give him his word that he would be there come morning. Idly, James mused that it was interesting that if ordered to surrender, famous Captain Jack Sparrow would laugh in the face of a heavily armed Navy ship, yet with the slightest amount of pressure in the correct spot, the man could be induced to agree to almost anything. Indeed, as Jack had insisted more than once, control really was merely a matter of leverage. Of course at the time he had also insisted that size still very much mattered then made references to both ships and the anatomy of a certain commodore so one never knew for sure.

At any rate, in the morning James pleasurable dreams, and even more pleasurable previous might’s work out, had made for a slow drift to the land of wakefulness. Eyes still closed he reached out his hand that had been resting beside his head on the pillow. Surprised, his fingers contacted something cool, bumpy. He ran his fingers over it at length his groggy mind realizing that it was a strand of Jack’s beads. Continuing his lazy exploration he felt rough, spun threads – Jack’s frazzled and braided hair. His fingers then brushed over what felt like a piece of thick paper. Puzzled, James frowned and pulled at the paper but it didn’t come away with his hand. Tiring of the game, he finally rolled over onto his side and opened heavy lidded, sleep crusted eyes…

And found himself nearly nose to nose with a giant, green lizard.

James jerked his hand away quickly then froze. Did the creature plan on attacking him? An Iguana, that’s what he’d been told they were. He’d heard of these beasts latching onto human skin with their impressive claws and teeth, whipping with their long tails as they scratched their victims bloody. Slowly, he slid away from the creature. It watched him with eyes as dark as Jack’s, eerily unblinking. With agonizingly slow movements, James continued to retreat wondering how his bed had become so very wide overnight. It felt as though he had been backing away for several minutes.

The side of the bed found James before he found it. After falling abruptly to the floor with a loud thump, James got up still facing the beast. At this point he became distinctly aware of his state of undress, hands flying to cover himself from gouging claws and the enormous, whipping tail.

Taking a couple steps away from the bed to a distance he deemed reasonably safe, James studied the creature more carefully. It had done nothing the entire time but move its head to watch him, it’s “expression” seemed to be one of curiosity, head angled and tilted in an almost endearing way (endearing in as much as a reptilian beast unexpectedly occupying his bed could be anyway). Feeling his heart begin to slow to a more normal rate, James peered at the length of rope around the Iguana’s neck. It was carefully braided from three strands of different coloured, though still common, twine rope. Attacked to the “collar” was a rather large tag with big scrawling letters that clearly had been written by Jack. In fact that was all that was written on the tag: JACK.

Still stewing about his rude awakening, James hunched over his desk, rolling a quill under his hand across the smooth surface. If Sparrow wanted to keep his head out of the noose it would be in his best interests to remove the beast before James returned home than evening. Creatures like that were most certainly not welcome in his bed. James decided that in light of recent events unwelcome “creatures” also included pirate captains named Jack Sparrow.

Pulling a blank sheet of note paper, James considered writing out a new warrant for the Captain of the Black Pearl. He even made it so far as the first few sentences before deciding the exercise was stupid as it was his own job to catch the supposedly elusive pirate. It was tempting though, to make a formal public announcement of his “renewed intentions” to track down the scourge of the Caribbean. Why he could even offer a reward for the man’s carcass!

His less than blissful thoughts about his lover were interrupted by a knock on his door. A nervous looking young man delivered a note then waited to be dismissed, his eyes silently betraying his desire to flee the room as quickly as possible. James dismissed the boy and wondered exactly how angry he had appeared this morning when reporting to duty.

He pulled out a silver letter opener, briefly imagining plunging the dull blade into a particular prankster’s rather particular areas.

The note read:

“C.J.N.,
I expect you made acquaintance with my darling stand-in. Apologies if it were too much a fright.”

James snorted knowing despite Jack’s supposedly polite note, there was no way the pirate was sorry in the least. He continued reading,

“I trust the two of you made friends. She tells me you’re not much of a conversationalist in the mornings. Perhaps next time I shall have to discover if this is so for myself. For now I simply beg your forgiveness…”

James had known Jack to beg only in bed, and only in the most passionate of moments so he rather doubted it here.

“and request your presence in the courtyard in rear of The Rusty Heel this evening at 8:00. You needn’t worry about dressing well for the occasion.
Until tonight,
C.J.S.”

“The courtyard behind The Rusty Heel?” James said aloud, confused. It was one of Port Royals less savory establishments and he knew for a fact that it did not have any courtyard. It did however have an alley that was frequented by…

“Oh,” James said aloud, re-reading the line about dress. “Oh my,” he gulped feeling his cheeks redden and his pants tighten.

Perhaps he would allow the pirate in his bed once again later tonight.

Much later.

Provided the Iguana had been removed that is.

End

~~~~~*~~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~