Sparrow kisses him. He kisses him deep and slow and hard, and James melts into it, putting into the kiss all the shuddering heat of the friction of Sparrow's hips against his. He wants to touch the other man with his hands, wants to run them down his body, tangle them in his hair, but he cannot, lest he fall and crush the breath out of the slighter man beneath him entirely. As it is, sliding of tongue against tongue, the occasional clack of teeth, Sparrow's breath hot in his mouth and fogging his mind... his hips begin to move, undulating slowly and firmly against Sparrow's, finding a rhythm that suits both of them.

The other man breaks off the kiss with a playful grin and James groans, groans aloud, swallowing down the need to crush his lips to Sparrow's, pin him to the mattress with more than just the sheer weight of his body. However, he smirks breathlessly, tilting his head to one side above Sparrow's.

'Lovely though that was, Sparrow, there's no trick there that I've not already learned.' He swallows again, closing his eyes as if for fortification against the image of Sparrow with his dark eyes and kiss-wet lips. 'You'll have to try harder than that,' he murmurs, allowing one eyebrow to drift up ever so slightly.

A challenge. That was what Sparrow wanted, clearly, and apparently what he wanted as well. James relished surprising him, loved the momentary shock in those dark eyes as they registered his move, his next play.

Check in chess, after all.