Entry tags:

r, smut

The Price
Chapter: 3/?
Pairing: Lord Cutler Beckett/Captain Jack Sparrow
Rating: R for this chapter
Summary: It's just... good business.
Disclaimer: Disney probably didn't write this.
Notes: It took me ages to get back to this after writing the first two chapters, sorry to everyone who was waiting. I'm really looking to improve my writing, so concrit is very welcome :)
Previous chapters: One Two

It was a glorious morning off the coast of Africa as Cutler sat down for a cup of tea on the deck of the Endeavour. Sunlight glinted off the gilded patterns on the teapot, catching the decorative swirls and edges in golden effulgence. Clouds of steam rose from the hot water, dispersing as he tipped in a spoonful of tea leaves, stirring it with careful precision. Sighing contentedly, he regarded the coastline to the west, cliffs and beaches hazy in the heat.

A subordinate stepped into his line of sight. Beckett gave him a look from beneath lowered brows.

"Mister Sparrow to see you, sir," he said smartly, saluting.

"Captain," said a voice behind the uniformed sailor. "Captain Jack Sparrow," it repeated, as the man himself sauntered into view, beaming and swaggering.

"Of course, Captain Sparrow. Come and join me for a spot of tea." Cutler smiled civilly and indicated the seat opposite him. Jack sat down gingerly on the delicate chair, pulling a face as it creaked.

"I'm just here for me papers, mate," he said, once again inspecting the sugar bowl.

"I have them," replied Beckett lightly, "in my quarters." Sparrow smirked. "All in good time," he continued. "How was your journey?"

"Wet," said Jack, licking his fingers.

"I've heard the sea can be problematic in that way."

"Too right. There's a feller on my crew, almost drowned himself while he was standing on deck." Sugar crystals were stuck to the bottom of Jack's moustache, moving as he spoke, while he dipped his finger in the bowl again. Cutler averted his eyes.

"How very unfortunate."

"He still has water dribbling out of his mouth when he talks, and it's been a week since. Poor bugger."

"You had no other problems in getting here, I trust?"

"Nothing a large amount of rum hasn't already managed to fix."

Which, thought Cutler, would probably account for the smell.

"We got caught in quite a storm a few days ago," he said conversationally, trying very hard not to wrinkle his nose. "So I'm told, anyway. Apparently I slept through it."

"And how exactly did you manage that?"

"I'm a heavy sleeper. My bed is also particularly comfortable."

"Right."

They chatted amiably about this and that as the sun rose higher in the sky, chasing away the pink clouds of early morning. Teacups were emptied and re-filled, grubby fingers were applied to the sugar-bowl with alarming frequency, and Cutler blushed no fewer than seven times. Eventually talk turned to business.

"So I show them the papers and they hand me my cargo, all friendly like?" said Jack, twirling the teaspoon deftly between his fingers.

"That will be how the transaction works, yes. There shouldn't be any problem, they signed a contract with us months ago."

"And you have these papers." A significant pause. "In your quarters?" Jack's casual tone was belied by the mischevious spark in his eyes.

"Yes," said Cutler lightly, a slow smile spreading. "I rather suppose we should go and get them. Do follow me," he added in a low voice. He took a final sip, then stood up smoothly and turned to walk towards his door. After a brief pause, Sparrow pursued him, hips swinging gallantly as he walked.

Cutler's quarters were immaculate in gold and cream, desk and tables bolted to the floor, with trinkets and boxes neatly arranged on top. There was another set of spindly chairs around one table, on which a tea set was laid out, and a heavy brocade curtain partly obscured a large four poster bed. The bed's owner picked up the lid from one mahogany box, emblazoned with the Company's logo, and rifled through the papers within.

Jack closed the door behind him with a click. Cutler selected the relevant letter and turned around, stopping short when he found the other man standing directly behind him. He shivered as Jack ran a hand up his thigh, the other hand coming to rest on his cheek.

"Captain Sparrow, do you think this is entirely appropriate?" he said drily. "I invited you in to settle a business arrangement, not to seduce me."

"One of the wonderful things about the human mind is the ability to reconcile two very different tasks at the same time," said Jack. "Savvy?"

"Not," attempted Beckett, swallowing as grimy fingers gripped his chin, "not entirely, actually-" He was cut off as their noses brushed.

Thoughts including the words "inadvisable", "illegal", and more frequently "unsanitary" were fizzing at the back of his mind, but were pushed aside as his eyes drifted closed and he leant into the embrace, bringing a hand up to tangle itself in filthy hair. He kissed Jack's bottom lip softly then pulled back. Jack's hands were already untucking Cutler's shirt from his trousers, cold fingers against the warm skin of his back. He gave a sly smile and kissed him again, his hands reaching beneath tattered layers of clothing to mirror the action, allowing his fingernails to leave red trails across the other man's back and enjoying the sharp intake of breath he felt against his lips.

After a couple of seconds' pause, he turned both of them around in a sudden movement, backing Jack against the desk with a knee between his thighs and kissing him harshly. Above the blood humming in his ears, he was distantly aware of something tearing as he twisted his hands in Jack's shirt, pulling him up to press more closely against him, their chests touching as they kissed and bit each other's mouths. Jack broke away and applied himelf to Cutler's neck, sucking and nipping at the soft skin until angry purple-red dots began to appear and Cutler was panting for breath, grinding against Jack's leg helplessly, nose pressed into his collarbone.

"Shall we?" breathed Jack, jerking his head in the direction of Cutler's bed.

Inadvisable, illegal, unsanitary. "I-" he started uncertainly, as something distracting was being done to the skin behind his ear. "I think we shall," he finished, grabbing Jack by his belt and pulling him towards the curtain.

****

Twenty particularly pleasurable minutes later, Cutler collapsed against Jack's chest, panting and sweating. His wig was lying in disarray on the floor beside the bed, their clothes strewn at random across the room and on the covers except Jack's hat, which he was still, absurdly, wearing. Cutler rolled onto his side, planting a kiss on the other man's shoulder.

After a pause, he murmured "That was certainly a, a satisfying endeavour."

Jack turned over dazedly.

"Fuck," he agreed, with rather less elegance.

"That thing you did, with the feather, where on earth did you learn that?"

"Tortuga, mate, where else?"

"Astounding."

Jack smirked lazily and ran his fingers through Cutler's close-cropped hair, kissing him briefly and letting his hand stray downwards to pat him on the arse.

"We must make a point of doing this when you return, Jack."

"It would be my pleasure," he replied, flourishing an arm vaguely in the air and closing his eyes.


Several months later, Cutler leant back in his desk chair, humming contentedly to his paperwork. He held a small, grimy medallion in his hand, turning it over between his fingers absently and smiling to himself.

Someone knocked at his door, the three sharp raps causing Beckett to glance around in irritation. He pressed at a small panel on the desk's woodwork, opening a small concealed drawer into which he dropped the piece of metal.

"Enter," he said crisply, closing the drawer and picking up his quill. His second-in-command took three steps into the room and saluted smartly.

"Yes, what?"

"It's Captain Sparrow, sir. He's been captured in Africa. The chief says he shan't be released until we increase their percentage."

"Very well, Jones. I suppose we had better turn around, Sparrow is slightly too useful to allow him to be cannibalised."

"As you wish, sir." With another salute, he left the room, closing the door behind him. Cutler picked up the medallion again and stared at it, unseeing.

"Hell."