PotC Drabble - Christmas is
Title: Christmas is
Author: order_of_chaos
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sparrington
Summary: Impressions of Christmas (as experienced by James Norrington under the influence of Jack Sparrow).
AN: Contents of this drabble-and-a-bit shamelessly pirated from drbillbongo's fic Home For Christmas. Which is delightful. (drbillbongo - consider this a late Christmas present, if you like it.)
Christmas for James this year is a tree decked in the style of Jack’s hair - cheerful clutter that shouldn’t work but does - and a pirate, bare and beribboned, on the piano. Then the same pirate, smirk traded in for anticipation, summarily removed from the piano and carried off to James’ bedroom and James’ bed.
Christmas is a red ribbon - untied from piratical waist, retied around piratical wrists, and looping on the way through James’ terribly convenient headboard. It is, James thinks, the kind of festive he can appreciate.
And Christmas is James’ very own Jack Sparrow - Captain, no less - quite thoroughly captured; stretched out like a bronze tapestry of skin and scars and ink, just waiting to be pillaged and plundered and riffled and looted and anything else James should care to do to him, in true piratical fashion.
Just waiting. But far too enticing to be left waiting long.
Hours later, there is rum for dessert.
Author: order_of_chaos
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Sparrington
Summary: Impressions of Christmas (as experienced by James Norrington under the influence of Jack Sparrow).
AN: Contents of this drabble-and-a-bit shamelessly pirated from drbillbongo's fic Home For Christmas. Which is delightful. (drbillbongo - consider this a late Christmas present, if you like it.)
Christmas for James this year is a tree decked in the style of Jack’s hair - cheerful clutter that shouldn’t work but does - and a pirate, bare and beribboned, on the piano. Then the same pirate, smirk traded in for anticipation, summarily removed from the piano and carried off to James’ bedroom and James’ bed.
Christmas is a red ribbon - untied from piratical waist, retied around piratical wrists, and looping on the way through James’ terribly convenient headboard. It is, James thinks, the kind of festive he can appreciate.
And Christmas is James’ very own Jack Sparrow - Captain, no less - quite thoroughly captured; stretched out like a bronze tapestry of skin and scars and ink, just waiting to be pillaged and plundered and riffled and looted and anything else James should care to do to him, in true piratical fashion.
Just waiting. But far too enticing to be left waiting long.
Hours later, there is rum for dessert.