Jack Sparrow is on top of him. Jack Sparrow is on top of him. James has a vague notion that he should perhaps be alarmed at this, that there's something not entirely right about the whole situation, but all he can think about is the heat spiralling in his veins, Sparrow's hands splayed on the mattress on either side of his head, his lips so very, very close to his own that he can feel the warmth of them.

Man of action, Jack murmurs, and something in James glows at the words. They feel like a title, like... gods, he doesn't even know what, and he draws in a shuddering breath through his nose, blinking up at Sparrow's face so close to his.

He pushes himself up on his elbows just barely, just enough so that their lips are touching properly, and he takes Sparrow's bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently, feeling the give of the soft flesh and the catch of Sparrow's breath.

'Aye,' he murmurs, only a hint of his usual dryness in his voice, and then with a diabolical grin, he hooks his knee around the leg that Sparrow doesn't have on the bed and twists, sending the pirate thudding onto his back, startled for just the moment that it takes for James to roll on top of him, knees planted on either side of his hips.