"Think it's meant to be more the reverse actually. Unless you've got some tales you've been keep from me."
He tries hard but can't keep the grin which breaks forth from that. Jack will laugh if Norrington admits he's had sex quite like this before. A few days ago he would have laughed just to hear Norrington say he ever had sex itself. A man who keeps himself as uptight and proper as the Commodore isn't the type to just go bandying about, removing knickers and making folk moan.
Yet here is, completely undone and in disarray, and pressed against Jack with that eyebrow seeking solance somewhere in his hairline. It looks ridiculous, that pompous expression, in such circumstances, and Jack can't resist provoking him for it.
"They teach you that in the Navy? Or is that all due to your own practice?" He skims a thumb beneath the worried muscle -- giving Norrington some idea what he's on about -- to see if it will relax under his touch. "Looks good on you," he says and briefly touches the pocket at the corner of Norrington's smile as Jack brings his hand down. I like it when you smile.
Being in such close proximity makes Jack realise how cold his arse is beginning to feel. And realise why, exactly, it is that his arse feels cold. His breeches are still about his ankles and the front of Norrington's are also open. Both wet and sticky from each other. They might do with a bit of cleaning up.
Jack pushes a hand against Norrington's stomach to prop himself fully on his own two feet. Several coconuts are still cluttered around them and it strikes with a dull remembrance that they actually did not come all the way out here just for this.
Or least not only for this.
Gibbs or Anamaria might come looking for them any momemnt, or might have already come looked and decided it best to leave them be. Either way, it's a decent excuse to stay missing for a bit longer.
Jack has an idea. "Don't know about you, but I could do with a bit of a swim." He glances down between them, at his own state of undress and at Norrington's. At the mess the made between them. "What say you?"
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He tries hard but can't keep the grin which breaks forth from that. Jack will laugh if Norrington admits he's had sex quite like this before. A few days ago he would have laughed just to hear Norrington say he ever had sex itself. A man who keeps himself as uptight and proper as the Commodore isn't the type to just go bandying about, removing knickers and making folk moan.
Yet here is, completely undone and in disarray, and pressed against Jack with that eyebrow seeking solance somewhere in his hairline. It looks ridiculous, that pompous expression, in such circumstances, and Jack can't resist provoking him for it.
"They teach you that in the Navy? Or is that all due to your own practice?" He skims a thumb beneath the worried muscle -- giving Norrington some idea what he's on about -- to see if it will relax under his touch. "Looks good on you," he says and briefly touches the pocket at the corner of Norrington's smile as Jack brings his hand down. I like it when you smile.
Being in such close proximity makes Jack realise how cold his arse is beginning to feel. And realise why, exactly, it is that his arse feels cold. His breeches are still about his ankles and the front of Norrington's are also open. Both wet and sticky from each other. They might do with a bit of cleaning up.
Jack pushes a hand against Norrington's stomach to prop himself fully on his own two feet. Several coconuts are still cluttered around them and it strikes with a dull remembrance that they actually did not come all the way out here just for this.
Or least not only for this.
Gibbs or Anamaria might come looking for them any momemnt, or might have already come looked and decided it best to leave them be. Either way, it's a decent excuse to stay missing for a bit longer.
Jack has an idea. "Don't know about you, but I could do with a bit of a swim." He glances down between them, at his own state of undress and at Norrington's. At the mess the made between them. "What say you?"