Jack shivers slightly at the sound of Norrington's voice and readily accepts his invitation. Leans farther, until there is no place left to go but down onto the bed. One knee on the bed, he twists out of Norrington's grasp to catch himself on both hands, one on either side. He stares down at him.

The mere notion of the image before him sends blood rushing down south, a smile twisting in and out of shape on his face as he regards Norrington beneath him. The compass is still in his hand. Jack removes his eyes of Norrington only for the split second it takes to scoot the compass to the side, away from Jack's hand so he will at least have one free while he hovers above like this.

Letting out a shaky breath in an attempt to control his breathing, speeded up as it is, Jack lowers his face over Norrington's until their lips are barely touching.

"Man of action," he whispers. "Will ye act now?"

It is more of a challenge than an invitation, but Jack likes nothing more than pushing Norrington to make the final move. To have this be his choice. All thoughts of headings, of articles, of compasses are gone from his mind.