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28 October 2004 @ 10:59 pm
Covet 3  
The third part of Covet. In which Commodore Norrington is getting troubled. And looked at...




Titel: Covet 3
Author: Vesta
Rating: PG-13
Warnings, pairing: none
Disclaimers: I don't own them, I don't own anything. And I never, ever make any money.
Feedback: Yes, please. If you would be so kind.

Author's note: Still aiming for 500 words. Got it down to 502 this time. This is unbetaed. Mind your eyes and beware of grammatical horrors.


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"We covet what we can not have."
Hannibal Lecter.


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He was everywhere. James felt a slight sting of panic creep under his skin. Ever since that night, he still couldn't think about it without blushing, he saw Turner everywhere. Even in his own house, since Elisabeth insisted in inviting him for dinner. He was a hero after all, she said. Handling Captain Sparrow so elegantly, making him take his ship and leave. No, James wanted to say, he left because if he stayed, I would have had him hanged. But he didn't. There was no way to argue with Elisabeth when she put her foot down.

And Will looked at him. In a certain way that made James's knees go week. He was a man of the fleet, for mercy's sake, he shouldn't have week knees. But that look, and those hands…

It wasn't an evil look, it was just curious. And it got under James's skin. He wondered if Will knew what he had done that night. How he had moaned and behaved like a slut, thinking of rough hands and brown eyes. But he couldn't possibly know, could he? Will Turner wasn't a mind reader. So he didn't know that he was in James's dreams every single night either, making him dirty his sheets.

But earlier this night, Will had looked at him like that again and absently stroked a hand through his hair. The air had stuck in James's throat when Will smiled at him, still with a hand tangling in the dark locks. A fleeting vision of that hand in his own hair, tugging, made him gasp. He had managed to get his breath back, but by then his heart was pounding so hard all he could hear was the rush of blood in his body. He had ended up in the study, with his sword in one hand, sucking on the knob and desperately stroking himself off with the other. It wasn't until he had made a mess all over the desk, he realised the door was still unlocked.

James had pulled himself together and returned to the reception. He knew he had hell coming for him the next morning, to judge by Elisabeth's angry glare. She would never forgive him for leaving the reception in such haste. He couldn't tell her he had been fleeing Turner, could he? She wouldn't understand. Or maybe she could, since she was crying after Will herself almost every night.

James didn't cry. He wanted. Burned. Needed. Until his throat was raw from holding back the moans while stroking himself. He was sleeping in one of the guestrooms now. To have Elisabeth close every night would drive him mad. And it meant he could lay with his legs spread and let his fantasies run wild, as long as he didn't make too much noise. He had shouted a little too loud one night and Elisabeth had come running. He had barely managed to pull his fingers from his arse and cover the semen stains with the duvet.

It had to stop.

Fini


 
 
 
Inyainyadreems on October 29th, 2004 12:19 pm (UTC)
Phew, wow, hot! It had to stop. I don't think so. You have to write more.


Vesta: piratebiggelois on December 2nd, 2004 06:00 am (UTC)
I feel the foul mood approaching...I think the commodore will have his feathers ruffled soon.
Thanks.
azure_k_mello: cuddles-by meazure_k_mello on August 1st, 2005 06:58 am (UTC)
And again, Poor!James. Fool. he's a child playing at the edge of something that's going to destroy him eventually.
Vestabiggelois on August 1st, 2005 08:59 am (UTC)
He's not really that composed, the poor commodore. Sorta obsessed, more like it. And behaving like that during the reception. Tsss..