Title: The Greatest Treasure
Author: Kytten
Pairing: Speckett (Sparrow/Beckett)
Rating: PG
Summary: Neither manis as young as he used to be.
Author's Note: We need cute little names for the Beckett pairings. I propose Speckett (Sparrow/Beckett) and Beckington (Beckett/Norrington)
The Greatest Treasure
Chapter One
He'd been young and untried. He hadn't known the way the world worked, that piracy was villainy and not a pretty way of life. He'd been fascinated, curious. He wanted only to know what it was like. But he'd gone and had his taste years ago. And Cutler Beckett was by no means a young man any longer.
Which meant he was going to have to find another excuse for kissing Sparrow through the bars of the brig.
He hadn't meant for it to happen. Not really. He'd been sitting in his office, calm as you please, staring at the pulsing black bag on his desk. And then the black bag was gone; a grinning, gold-toothed pirate in its place. And Sparrow was leaning close, rum and the promise on his breath so damn tempting.
And then everything went black.
In hindsight, it had been an open invitation, hadn't it? He'd been sitting there with all his windows, even the terrace doors wide open, knowing full well the trellis under said terrace could be shimmied up. He himself had done so last Sunday when his house key had gone missing along with a great number of his servants.
Beckett should have suspected something then.
But no, there he'd sat, practically begging for Sparrow to arrive, with the greatest treasure in the seven seas thumping against his desk.
Though could a great rotting heart really be treasure? Because Sparrow tasted of spice and rum, and he couldn't quite get at his mouth properly though these damn bars, but he wanted more. Oh god, did he want more. When Sparrow pulled back his was panting, eyes closed, lips wet. He leaned forward, praying that the pirate hadn't moved.
But instead of those soft lips against his own, he felt the brush of a calloused finger, and a rush of air as Sparrow's heat moved away.
It was bloody cruel to lock a man up, arouse him to the point of desperation and walk off. Beckett opened his eyes, ready to tell the pirate so, only to find him with a ring of keys and a wicked grin.
"Not as young as we used t' be, Beckie. M' knees aren't wot they were. Best we take this above."
Moonlight crept in through the small port window, lighting Sparrow's quarters. Beckett leaned back, reveling in the feel of the man's arms, even going so far to enjoy the sound of his soft snoring. But the prospect of his sleeping was far out on the horizon yet, forced back by thoughts of a more disturbing nature.
It couldn't last. This beautiful dream of a night couldn't last. It would end come morning, or at the very least at the end of a hangman's noose. And there were any number of reasons for the latter, seeing as how Lord Beckett of the East India Trading Company could not be seen showing any sort of leniency to a pirate.
Even to a pirate that was supposed to be dead, floating about on a ship that was supposed to have sunk.
No, this couldn't last. And was this even what he wanted? He'd worked so hard. He was a lord now for godssake. And yet when he looked down at the sleeping pirate, his heart ached. He wanted nothing more than this, this night, this man for ages yet to come.
Beckett curled up against Sparrow's side and closed his eyes, trying desperately to sleep. But then he remembered the compass and waged a short and futile war against curiosity.
Disentangling himself from the pirate's arms, he rose and rifled through Sparrow's discarded clothing.
"I don't know what I want." He whispered as his fingers closed over the simple wooden box. "Show me."
The little red arrow mocked him, pointing due north with unwavering resolve.
"Oh, come now." He hissed. "You never point north."
The gears tinkled softly, and Beckett got the impression he was being laughed at.
"Well? Com'on then." He frowned and glanced at Sparrow, knowing he'd be laughed out of the room if he got caught talking to a compass. "Show me."
The arrow spun and stopped.
West, South West.
Beckett smiled. Piracy it was.