The fingers playing with his buttons doesn't exactly slip Jack's notice and he glances down once to check on what precisely James' is doing. Not unbuttoning them but playing at it, threatening vaguely of will he, won't he. Will, Jack thinks, and hides his little, victorious smile in the dark.
He arcs his thumb nail along the underside of James' Adam's apple again to hear the same almost-sigh. Petting down James' sternum, Jack slips his hand to the ground on the other side of James' ribs, holding himself up over James' prone form, able to meet his eyes in the dim light. "Hm, but the law is what you know. Unfairly matched, there, I think. Hardly at my best."
And possibly unfairly matched here, unless James has any books he's studied on the subject, but at least now it's in Jack's favour. There's only two things what can challenge him that he has no fear of losing, and James isn't talking about planes and piloting.
Jack smoothes back the fringe over James' forehead, silky hair running through his fingers, arcs a finger under James' eye -- all soft, feather-light touches, never risking more than the tips of his fingers as he traces the lines over James' face. He tilts James' head to the side to place a gentle, almost hesitant kiss to the side of his mouth.
"Your choice," Jack murmurs against the skin, and then rolls back to his side, pushing space between him and the warmth of James' body. He rolls up to his feet, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans, and stars down at James, smile curling on his lips. "Seems to be getting a bit late."
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2008-10-22 03:07 am (UTC)He arcs his thumb nail along the underside of James' Adam's apple again to hear the same almost-sigh. Petting down James' sternum, Jack slips his hand to the ground on the other side of James' ribs, holding himself up over James' prone form, able to meet his eyes in the dim light. "Hm, but the law is what you know. Unfairly matched, there, I think. Hardly at my best."
And possibly unfairly matched here, unless James has any books he's studied on the subject, but at least now it's in Jack's favour. There's only two things what can challenge him that he has no fear of losing, and James isn't talking about planes and piloting.
Jack smoothes back the fringe over James' forehead, silky hair running through his fingers, arcs a finger under James' eye -- all soft, feather-light touches, never risking more than the tips of his fingers as he traces the lines over James' face. He tilts James' head to the side to place a gentle, almost hesitant kiss to the side of his mouth.
"Your choice," Jack murmurs against the skin, and then rolls back to his side, pushing space between him and the warmth of James' body. He rolls up to his feet, hands slipping into the pockets of his jeans, and stars down at James, smile curling on his lips. "Seems to be getting a bit late."