Whore's son
Aug. 16th, 2010 09:28 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fairieloreTitle: Whore's son
Pairing: Beckett/Sparrow
Rating: PG-16
Prompt: Pirate for sunsetdawn
Never had he seen skin so tan, as if the sun only shone for this one man. There was nothing prim and proper about him, no powdered wig adorning his head, but instead the most unsightly dreadlocks. But there were brown eyes, dark brown eyes that were the color of the wood his ship was made so magnificently of. But he'd been told well enough who that boy was, Jack Sparrow, whore's son and mischief maker, though as he loaded his few belongings he couldn't see what was so bad. But even if he'd been confident enough to stride onto the other ship and drag him into some godforsaken quarters, would he even have the time to do so? The bustling about on the navy ship wasn't good for his already jumping nerves, and he decided that the risk outweighed satisfying a long going whim. This unjustness caused him frustration, but he supposed that fairness never really played out how it was supposed to.
The next time he sees Jack Sparrow many things have changed, at least in himself. Cutler Beckett the captain, Cutler Beckett the strategist, Cutler Beckett who took the matters of fairness into his own hands. But Jack Sparrow has not changed in the least, except that all the boyish qualities are manly and he can see a few scars peeking out from underneath his shirt.
"Do you know who I am?" Cutler asks to the captain who had been dragged out of his ship - going without a flag was nearly a death warrant in these waters and a look in their cargo signed it. But he doesn't have to ask what all those things are and what they mean. A pirate in the making. That's all there is to it. It isn't fair – his Jack, a pirate.
Jack Sparrow shrugs and the answer is discomforting, a sigh nearly escaping him. They'd passed each other on the streets, a time along ago, and he couldn't remember? Cutler Beckett paused, and then swats away the navy men on either side of his pirate.
"I'm sure you know what anticipates you." He says bluntly, hoping that this will speed things right along. Wishing for fairness is beyond him now.
"I'm sure we can come to some sort of understanding, mate." Jack says with a grin, and it is evident he's been in a position like this once before.
"And what would you be willing to do?" Cutler asks, taking a few steps forward, his will stopping him from betraying that he’s waited for this moment for a long, long time.
“Anything, mate, anything.” Jack says with enthusiasm, playing the card he’s played many times before, knowing that the ego of men can be used to his advantage. But Cutler Beckett is just not just a man – he is an admirer.
Cutler Beckett steps forward and claims his prize, pulling Jack in for a heated, crushing kiss, one that would probably bruise the delicate tan lips. He senses an initial tenseness but it doesn’t dissuade him, but fuels him. His manicured fingers tear at the pirate’s clothes, making quick work of the rags he decides to call clothes. The kiss has an almost feverish quality, a little overplayed, but Cutler doesn’t mind. He never expected this moment to be perfect, if it came. He expected this moment to be satisfying.
Jack’s hands settle on either side of his waist, or at least the best they can being in cuffs, but it’s appreciate nonetheless. They slowly run up his body, caressing his sides or at least attempting to through the clothing that is one size too large for him.
"Don't." He growls when he feels a hand cusping his cheek. Breaking the illusion is the last thing he wants to do, knowing that things could never be how he wanted them to. And even if they could – a notion that he tries to shake off, then it would do him no good. The clothes have been stripped, the layers of masks discarded. There is only passion and pleasure in the captain’s quarters, the love of a man and the love of freedom is enough to blind everything else out. It becomes increasingly hard for Cutler to allow those handcuffs to mar the skin of his pretty little bird, but he’s just as nervous of what might happen if they come off. Jack Sparrow was a whore’s son, after all.
It doesn’t take more then an offer to satisfy his craving, and the clothes that had been peeled off with haste are put one with a speediness that only he’s known for. Cutler begrudgingly forces Jack to put his clothes on, though as he’s learned if he wants something done right he should do it himself. And not a moment too soon. There’s a knock on the door that makes his heart skip a beat, but he composes himself before he opens it, two navy men stiff and rigid, waiting for duty.
Cutler Beckett turns to Jack, who is lounging on his sofa with nary a care in the world. “You’re a long way from London. Isn’t it time to go home?” He says, and makes a motion for the guards to take him away. Something flashes across Jack but it doesn’t phase him, not now or ever. He’s gotten the scraggly pirate out of his system. Still, he can read the emotions in his eyes as clearly as Jack might have been able to read his during their lovemaking. This isn’t fair. But what contractual agreement is there to confer to, or spoken words to reminisce? He had made no promises, and so anything was to be expected. But Jack Sparrow had bent so easily to his will – just what he would expect from a whore’s son.
The next thing he hears of Jack Sparrow is that he’s somehow managed to escape his prison cell, and he knows that isn’t by any fault of his own. He certainly gave no window of opportunity to aid in his release, but that's because he isn't a fanciful romantic about the world and adventure, which might as well be analogous with Jack Sparrow. His right hand man makes quick work of the incompetent guards who let him escape and Cutler can only imagine what he’s promised them in exchange for freedom. Some petty story about a compass that he doesn’t take much interest in. Cutler orders them both thrown overboard.
Nobody said life was fair.
Pairing: Beckett/Sparrow
Rating: PG-16
Prompt: Pirate for sunsetdawn
Never had he seen skin so tan, as if the sun only shone for this one man. There was nothing prim and proper about him, no powdered wig adorning his head, but instead the most unsightly dreadlocks. But there were brown eyes, dark brown eyes that were the color of the wood his ship was made so magnificently of. But he'd been told well enough who that boy was, Jack Sparrow, whore's son and mischief maker, though as he loaded his few belongings he couldn't see what was so bad. But even if he'd been confident enough to stride onto the other ship and drag him into some godforsaken quarters, would he even have the time to do so? The bustling about on the navy ship wasn't good for his already jumping nerves, and he decided that the risk outweighed satisfying a long going whim. This unjustness caused him frustration, but he supposed that fairness never really played out how it was supposed to.
The next time he sees Jack Sparrow many things have changed, at least in himself. Cutler Beckett the captain, Cutler Beckett the strategist, Cutler Beckett who took the matters of fairness into his own hands. But Jack Sparrow has not changed in the least, except that all the boyish qualities are manly and he can see a few scars peeking out from underneath his shirt.
"Do you know who I am?" Cutler asks to the captain who had been dragged out of his ship - going without a flag was nearly a death warrant in these waters and a look in their cargo signed it. But he doesn't have to ask what all those things are and what they mean. A pirate in the making. That's all there is to it. It isn't fair – his Jack, a pirate.
Jack Sparrow shrugs and the answer is discomforting, a sigh nearly escaping him. They'd passed each other on the streets, a time along ago, and he couldn't remember? Cutler Beckett paused, and then swats away the navy men on either side of his pirate.
"I'm sure you know what anticipates you." He says bluntly, hoping that this will speed things right along. Wishing for fairness is beyond him now.
"I'm sure we can come to some sort of understanding, mate." Jack says with a grin, and it is evident he's been in a position like this once before.
"And what would you be willing to do?" Cutler asks, taking a few steps forward, his will stopping him from betraying that he’s waited for this moment for a long, long time.
“Anything, mate, anything.” Jack says with enthusiasm, playing the card he’s played many times before, knowing that the ego of men can be used to his advantage. But Cutler Beckett is just not just a man – he is an admirer.
Cutler Beckett steps forward and claims his prize, pulling Jack in for a heated, crushing kiss, one that would probably bruise the delicate tan lips. He senses an initial tenseness but it doesn’t dissuade him, but fuels him. His manicured fingers tear at the pirate’s clothes, making quick work of the rags he decides to call clothes. The kiss has an almost feverish quality, a little overplayed, but Cutler doesn’t mind. He never expected this moment to be perfect, if it came. He expected this moment to be satisfying.
Jack’s hands settle on either side of his waist, or at least the best they can being in cuffs, but it’s appreciate nonetheless. They slowly run up his body, caressing his sides or at least attempting to through the clothing that is one size too large for him.
"Don't." He growls when he feels a hand cusping his cheek. Breaking the illusion is the last thing he wants to do, knowing that things could never be how he wanted them to. And even if they could – a notion that he tries to shake off, then it would do him no good. The clothes have been stripped, the layers of masks discarded. There is only passion and pleasure in the captain’s quarters, the love of a man and the love of freedom is enough to blind everything else out. It becomes increasingly hard for Cutler to allow those handcuffs to mar the skin of his pretty little bird, but he’s just as nervous of what might happen if they come off. Jack Sparrow was a whore’s son, after all.
It doesn’t take more then an offer to satisfy his craving, and the clothes that had been peeled off with haste are put one with a speediness that only he’s known for. Cutler begrudgingly forces Jack to put his clothes on, though as he’s learned if he wants something done right he should do it himself. And not a moment too soon. There’s a knock on the door that makes his heart skip a beat, but he composes himself before he opens it, two navy men stiff and rigid, waiting for duty.
Cutler Beckett turns to Jack, who is lounging on his sofa with nary a care in the world. “You’re a long way from London. Isn’t it time to go home?” He says, and makes a motion for the guards to take him away. Something flashes across Jack but it doesn’t phase him, not now or ever. He’s gotten the scraggly pirate out of his system. Still, he can read the emotions in his eyes as clearly as Jack might have been able to read his during their lovemaking. This isn’t fair. But what contractual agreement is there to confer to, or spoken words to reminisce? He had made no promises, and so anything was to be expected. But Jack Sparrow had bent so easily to his will – just what he would expect from a whore’s son.
The next thing he hears of Jack Sparrow is that he’s somehow managed to escape his prison cell, and he knows that isn’t by any fault of his own. He certainly gave no window of opportunity to aid in his release, but that's because he isn't a fanciful romantic about the world and adventure, which might as well be analogous with Jack Sparrow. His right hand man makes quick work of the incompetent guards who let him escape and Cutler can only imagine what he’s promised them in exchange for freedom. Some petty story about a compass that he doesn’t take much interest in. Cutler orders them both thrown overboard.
Nobody said life was fair.
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no subject
Date: 2010-08-18 10:09 pm (UTC)I really like “You’re a long way from London. Isn’t it time to go home?” for some reason. Not sure why, just nicely, causally, sinister but not. Yeah, that makes sense! :)
Nice job.
no subject
Date: 2010-08-23 01:16 am (UTC)That's probably my favorite line of the whole fic, and it does indeed some sinister. And a little taunting, perhaps?