The light in Sparrow's eyes is disturbing. Deeply and truly disturbing and God help him, James Norrington cannot look away. That last comment about a challenge was ill-thought out, or at least, put into action by that rebellious corner of his brain before the more rational rest was able to censor it, and James wishes he could find it within himself to regret it.
But he cannot.
Sparrow's lips are sliding around the flesh of the banana in an entirely indecent manner and his eyes, black-painted and glinting, are utterly- alluring, his mind whispers ironically- as he gazes up through his lashes at James; everything about him, in fact, looks absolutely whorish, albeit entirely more enticing than any strumpet James has actually dallied with on his many journeys. He swallows hard, and forces himself to look away from the pirate’s eyes and mouth, only to be distracted by a sudden, slow caress on his calf. He’s wearing his boots, but the slide of Sparrow’s foot against his leg is still easy to feel, and it is only with the utmost effort that he restrains the shiver which is threatening to slink up his spine.
Standing straight, he paces over to the unoccupied chair and pulls it over to rest in front of Sparrow and sits, crossing one leg over the other, just close enough to Sparrow that the tip of James’s boot nudges against his. Ignoring the heavy warmth in his gut, he looks Sparrow directly in the eye, one brow raised ever so slightly in what he knows the pirate will take as a challenge, a continuation of this perverse game they seem to be playing.
‘Thank you, Mr. Sparrow,’ he says calmly, ‘but I’m afraid I shall have to decline your generous offer; I have never been overfond of bananas.’ His eyes flicker. ‘Oranges, however, I adore.’
Still smirking slightly, he reaches over to the tray of food on the table and retrieves an orange, his fingers caressing the smooth flesh in a way that is only slightly intentionally provocative. The corner of his mouth curling up, he makes quick work of the rind and peels off a segment, raising it to his mouth in a (decidedly more restrained) imitation of Sparrow’s teasing with the banana. Smiling fractionally, he licks his fingers of the juice.
Come on, he thinks madly, push and pull, Sparrow? Is that what this is? Well, I can push as well as you.
no subject
But he cannot.
Sparrow's lips are sliding around the flesh of the banana in an entirely indecent manner and his eyes, black-painted and glinting, are utterly- alluring, his mind whispers ironically- as he gazes up through his lashes at James; everything about him, in fact, looks absolutely whorish, albeit entirely more enticing than any strumpet James has actually dallied with on his many journeys. He swallows hard, and forces himself to look away from the pirate’s eyes and mouth, only to be distracted by a sudden, slow caress on his calf. He’s wearing his boots, but the slide of Sparrow’s foot against his leg is still easy to feel, and it is only with the utmost effort that he restrains the shiver which is threatening to slink up his spine.
Standing straight, he paces over to the unoccupied chair and pulls it over to rest in front of Sparrow and sits, crossing one leg over the other, just close enough to Sparrow that the tip of James’s boot nudges against his. Ignoring the heavy warmth in his gut, he looks Sparrow directly in the eye, one brow raised ever so slightly in what he knows the pirate will take as a challenge, a continuation of this perverse game they seem to be playing.
‘Thank you, Mr. Sparrow,’ he says calmly, ‘but I’m afraid I shall have to decline your generous offer; I have never been overfond of bananas.’ His eyes flicker. ‘Oranges, however, I adore.’
Still smirking slightly, he reaches over to the tray of food on the table and retrieves an orange, his fingers caressing the smooth flesh in a way that is only slightly intentionally provocative. The corner of his mouth curling up, he makes quick work of the rind and peels off a segment, raising it to his mouth in a (decidedly more restrained) imitation of Sparrow’s teasing with the banana. Smiling fractionally, he licks his fingers of the juice.
Come on, he thinks madly, push and pull, Sparrow? Is that what this is? Well, I can push as well as you.