A smile flickers about James's lips as Sparrow's thumb brushes over his cheekbone, shivering a little with the hypersensitivity that still clings to his skin after his orgasm. It surprises him- as it always does when Sparrow acts gently or kindly- that the pirate should be so tender with him. Neither of them, after all, are tender men; they do not have the time to be tender. But it would, of course, be a falsehood of the direst sort if he even tried to convince himself that he didn't enjoy it.

As for what he has in mind... well, nothing, really. He'd been rather too distracted to give any thought to it, but now he does, he realises that he's a bit stuck. He... cannot reciprocate what Sparrow had done for him. It simply is not an option. At least not right now. Sodomy is similarly taboo, though more because he has no idea how Sparrow feels about such things, and even if he did, there's no way he'd be able to bugger anybody after coming that intensely. His hands, then, seem to be the only option.

James feels rather akwardly that, having done that already, he ought to have something better to offer.

He doesn't, though, and so he presses his lips to Sparrow's in a kiss, slipping his tongue inside and tasting the flavour of his own come there, an unpleasant, salty taste. Well, perhaps not that unpleasant.

'I have no idea,' James murmurs dryly against Sparrow's mouth, his hands toying with the many sashes and belts looped 'round his skinny waist. 'But I endeavour to please-' He pulls back slightly, flashes an invisible smirk at Sparrow. 'As ever.'