James Norrington could look into Cutler's eyes with out shame or embarrassment now; he had lovely green eyes that liked to watch as much as Beckett's. He reached up with a hand to touch the fine, pale face that was inches from him and Norrington's eyes watched his movements, eyes darting like twin dragonflies. As Beckett brushed away stray strands from James' cheek, those eyes flitted back to his, blinking. Cutler found the sparkling quality of James' moist eyes to be utterly enchanting and that's when the words had slipped out of him.

Lord Cutler Beckett – a man who hated making mistakes and being made a fool of, whether by his own hand or others', did just that without intention and murmuring aloud what should have been forbidden words.

"Tell me you love me."

Norrington's brows furrowed at the odd request even as he responded.

"I love you."

James said the words without compunction or artifice for he neither had the knowledge nor the inclination to charm or seduce another with words. Norrington did as he was ordered and there was no meaning behind the words. "The soup is hot; the soup is cold," had more meaning in his mouth than those three little words.

And without realizing how it was even possible, Cutler was devastated. And suddenly he regretted his words. But most of all he regretted claiming James Norrington's obedience during the night as his own.

"Get some sleep."

Cutler Beckett got out of bed and reached for his dressing gown.

"I am sorry."

But Beckett ignored Norrington's words and walked out. James pitied the man, for he could never love him and even if it were possible…

Once Cutler possessed all of him, the Lord would grow tired of his catamite and move on to unspoiled pleasures.