Technically, I should be writing a book report now. However, when faced with the decision of slogging through the rest of "Guns, Germs and Steel," the most agonizingly boring book since "The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire," and write a three-page paper on it, or writing the next chapter of "Boundaries," the choice was rather an obvious one.
For the one reviewer who wanted me to "hurry up and have Jack screw Norrington into the mattress..." I know, I know, I want that to happen just as much as you do! Unfortunately, I really have to keep this to a PG-13 rating--no explicit sex. I'll go as far as I can, but eventually I'll have to "fade to black" before all the good stuff happens. *sigh* Well...you can always use your imaginations...
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"So," said Jack, raising his eyebrows suggestively, "are you going to fight me, or are you going to lie there and let me do whatever I please?"
Norrington fixed him with the coldest stare he could manage. "I daresay you'll find I can hold my own against you, Sparrow."
"Not when I do this," murmured Jack, sliding his hand firmly down Norrington's chest and coming to rest atop his stomach, relishing the short, sharp gasp that resulted. "Admit it, Commodore. You can't resist me."
" I could resist you if I damn well wanted to."
"But you don't damn well want to, do you?" Jack inched the hand lower still. "You wouldn't resist even if you could."
"Damn you, Sparrow..." Norrington, breathless, attempted to sit up. Jack pushed him back down amongst the pillows.
"Captain Sparrow, love." Jack grinned. "Unless you'd like this to be on a first-name basis? Tell me your given name and you can forgo the 'Captain.' I imagine we'll both be needing something good to scream, after all..."
Norrington wasn't sure which made him blush more, the implications of Jack's comment or the prospect of admitting that he had a name like "Lysander Catullus." He glared up at the pirate who was bending over him with another of those wicked, sultry smiles. "That's rather all right...Captain."
"Oh, what's the matter?" Jack traced idle patterns across the surface of Norrington's stomach with his index finger. "Embarrassed? Self-conscious? Is it something awful, like Horatio, or Gus?"
Norrington, during a brief moment in which he was capable of lucid thought, decided he would much rather have been named Horatio than Lysander, but before he could reach a decision on Gus, all thoughts were drowned out by Jack's skillful ministrations again. "Oh god. Sparrow--"
"Captain Sparrow, love," said Jack patiently. "It'd be easier if you'd just tell me. I won't laugh."
"I don't...oh god...make a habit of--oh--telling people...telling people..." It was terribly difficult to keep his train of thought on track when Jack was doing things like that. "Sparrow!"
"CAPTAIN Sparrow." Jack swirled the finger lower still. "Be less stressful if you could just call me Jack, you know...save a lot of unneeded effort all 'round..."
"I won't...tell...won't let you..." Norrington swallowed, closing his eyes as Jack slid his other hand up through his hair, twirling a lock of it around one exquisite finger..."Lysander Catullus," he blurted, in a moment of weakness. "That's...my name. Lysander Catullus."
"Lysander Catullus, eh?" Coming from Jack's talented, rum-tainted mouth, the name was beautiful. "Bit of a mouthful, but it suits you. Shakespeare, isn't it?"
"Well, the 'Lysander' bit..." Norrington would have elaborated further, had Jack not decided that he would rather occupy their mouths with something more worthwhile than conversation. Norrington lay perfectly still, hands at his sides, as Jack kissed him, unsure of what exactly to do.
Jack pulled away. "You're stiff as a board, mate. What's the matter?"
"What do you mean, what's the matter?" Norrington flushed self-consciously. "Is something the matter?"
"Nothing, except if I didn't know any better I'd say you were in rigor mortis. It'd be nice if you'd kiss me back, love." Jack brushed an errant lock of hair from Norrington's forehead. Norrington swatted his hand away irritably.
"I don't know how," he said shortly. "You seem to assume that I make a habit of going about kissing everyone I meet. In polite society--"
"Oh, to hell with polite society! You mean to say you've never kissed anyone before?" cried Jack, scandalized. Norrington scowled.
"No," he said. "I haven't. Would you be so kind as to teach me, or is that too beneath you?"
"Beneath me?" Jack smiled predatorially. "'Course it's not beneath me. I'll teach you everything I know." He reclined on the bed beside Norrington. "Which might take a while."
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Everyone else at the Norrington Defense League was updating, and I felt left out. I was inspired by all the pretty new chapters, and the even prettier new pictures of Jack Davenport from "The Talented Mr. Ripley" that August posted. Inspiration is a wonderful thing. Especially if it's inspiration in a sequined trenchcoat, with sexy hair falling into his sexy eyes...
Ave atque vale,
--Jehan's Muse
For the one reviewer who wanted me to "hurry up and have Jack screw Norrington into the mattress..." I know, I know, I want that to happen just as much as you do! Unfortunately, I really have to keep this to a PG-13 rating--no explicit sex. I'll go as far as I can, but eventually I'll have to "fade to black" before all the good stuff happens. *sigh* Well...you can always use your imaginations...
----------------------
"So," said Jack, raising his eyebrows suggestively, "are you going to fight me, or are you going to lie there and let me do whatever I please?"
Norrington fixed him with the coldest stare he could manage. "I daresay you'll find I can hold my own against you, Sparrow."
"Not when I do this," murmured Jack, sliding his hand firmly down Norrington's chest and coming to rest atop his stomach, relishing the short, sharp gasp that resulted. "Admit it, Commodore. You can't resist me."
" I could resist you if I damn well wanted to."
"But you don't damn well want to, do you?" Jack inched the hand lower still. "You wouldn't resist even if you could."
"Damn you, Sparrow..." Norrington, breathless, attempted to sit up. Jack pushed him back down amongst the pillows.
"Captain Sparrow, love." Jack grinned. "Unless you'd like this to be on a first-name basis? Tell me your given name and you can forgo the 'Captain.' I imagine we'll both be needing something good to scream, after all..."
Norrington wasn't sure which made him blush more, the implications of Jack's comment or the prospect of admitting that he had a name like "Lysander Catullus." He glared up at the pirate who was bending over him with another of those wicked, sultry smiles. "That's rather all right...Captain."
"Oh, what's the matter?" Jack traced idle patterns across the surface of Norrington's stomach with his index finger. "Embarrassed? Self-conscious? Is it something awful, like Horatio, or Gus?"
Norrington, during a brief moment in which he was capable of lucid thought, decided he would much rather have been named Horatio than Lysander, but before he could reach a decision on Gus, all thoughts were drowned out by Jack's skillful ministrations again. "Oh god. Sparrow--"
"Captain Sparrow, love," said Jack patiently. "It'd be easier if you'd just tell me. I won't laugh."
"I don't...oh god...make a habit of--oh--telling people...telling people..." It was terribly difficult to keep his train of thought on track when Jack was doing things like that. "Sparrow!"
"CAPTAIN Sparrow." Jack swirled the finger lower still. "Be less stressful if you could just call me Jack, you know...save a lot of unneeded effort all 'round..."
"I won't...tell...won't let you..." Norrington swallowed, closing his eyes as Jack slid his other hand up through his hair, twirling a lock of it around one exquisite finger..."Lysander Catullus," he blurted, in a moment of weakness. "That's...my name. Lysander Catullus."
"Lysander Catullus, eh?" Coming from Jack's talented, rum-tainted mouth, the name was beautiful. "Bit of a mouthful, but it suits you. Shakespeare, isn't it?"
"Well, the 'Lysander' bit..." Norrington would have elaborated further, had Jack not decided that he would rather occupy their mouths with something more worthwhile than conversation. Norrington lay perfectly still, hands at his sides, as Jack kissed him, unsure of what exactly to do.
Jack pulled away. "You're stiff as a board, mate. What's the matter?"
"What do you mean, what's the matter?" Norrington flushed self-consciously. "Is something the matter?"
"Nothing, except if I didn't know any better I'd say you were in rigor mortis. It'd be nice if you'd kiss me back, love." Jack brushed an errant lock of hair from Norrington's forehead. Norrington swatted his hand away irritably.
"I don't know how," he said shortly. "You seem to assume that I make a habit of going about kissing everyone I meet. In polite society--"
"Oh, to hell with polite society! You mean to say you've never kissed anyone before?" cried Jack, scandalized. Norrington scowled.
"No," he said. "I haven't. Would you be so kind as to teach me, or is that too beneath you?"
"Beneath me?" Jack smiled predatorially. "'Course it's not beneath me. I'll teach you everything I know." He reclined on the bed beside Norrington. "Which might take a while."
-------------------------
Everyone else at the Norrington Defense League was updating, and I felt left out. I was inspired by all the pretty new chapters, and the even prettier new pictures of Jack Davenport from "The Talented Mr. Ripley" that August posted. Inspiration is a wonderful thing. Especially if it's inspiration in a sequined trenchcoat, with sexy hair falling into his sexy eyes...
Ave atque vale,
--Jehan's Muse