All sorts of delicious images and thoughts fill Jack's mind at such words. Norrington on his knees before him is... Jack swallows back the sudden dryness in his mouth. Such a very, very good image. And while it is true that a whore in Tortuga would do the same thing for him, more easily than it would be to have Norrington in that position, he doesn't want easy. He wants this. He wants to know why Norrington wants this.

Having a Commodore as a bedmate would prove such fine leverage against escaping the noose in the future.

Jack tightens his arm around Norrington when he leans back in. He likes him this way, strong and direct, and presses his hips up, seeking full body contact, in case it might be lost on Norrington just how very much he likes it. If this is what the Commodore wants to hold over his head in the way of barter, Jack will give him all the amunition he needs. Loosing, then, is sure to be a wonderful affair if Jack's logic should ever fail to prove insurmountable.

"A good place," he echoes. "Aye, that it is." He curls his hand up to stroke down the line of Norrington's spine. "But you'd be forgetting something. How can I trust you to be trusting of me if even I told you, considering in case I haven't told you already?"