Four Sheets to the Wind

Ok, ok, so maybe ordinary people didn't try to color coordinate the bed linen with their lover but then never let it be said Captain Jack Sparrow was ordinary. The emerald velvet was of course the obvious choice. Deep, deep, green with a nap nearly a 1/4 inch thick - it would feel like a hundred tiny fingers caressing against the skin - and would do totally incredible
things to Jamie's sea green eyes. He could picture those eyes now looking up at him, nearly glazed over with passion, silently begging him for more. He shifted a bit to ease the sudden ache.

On the other hand, that cobalt satin was rather winsome as well - shiny and slippery as water itself, it was. The pearl-pale of James' long, long limbs would look very nice indeed against that stuff. Glow they would, like they were lit within when the moon hit him just so. And if they happened to slide off all that slick stuff in a tangle of limbs and kisses, well that wouldn't be so bad either. Might even stick a smile on the Commodore's far too serious face. Gah, it was a tad warm in here . . .

The shopkeeper was giving him an odd look but Sparrow ignored him, turning his attention to a particularly fine piece of brocade. It was a fanciful bit of goods, some kind of tropical flower stitched up in bright colors trimmed all around in heavy gold thread. The verdant leaves, like the green velvet, would pull the colors from Jamie's eyes, but it was the gold bullion that interested him the most. It was just a tad rough, just a tad scratchy as he rolled it between his fingers. Visions of James squirming and wriggling against it filled his mind. The brocade would tease and scrape at his arse until it was a most delightful shade of red when Jack rolled his commodore over to have his wicked piratey way with him. Sparrow shifted again, glad for the looseness of his pants which were suddenly feeling a whole lot less loose.

The fancy silver shackles he intended to make full use of would look well against any of these fine cloths but . . . a half smile, half leer twisted up the corners of his mouth. That lurvely gold silk over there, soft as breath blown warm over skin, ah yes that could be just the thing. While it was true, as he had told young Turner those many days ago, that not all treasure is made of silver or gold, these particular bits of silver and gold would look especially nice on his treasure. He indulged himself in the enchanting image of those strong yet surprisingly graceful wrists wrapped in the metallic embrace of the shackles and locked firmly over Jamie's head to the unyielding oak of the bed frame. The stretched arms would pull the clean lines of his body neatly taut as he lay helpless on all that scrumptious honeyed silk. Helpless at Sparrow's infinitely tender mercies. He could just hear Jamie's voice in his head as he teased and played with him. His refined tones made breathy with need. "Sparrow"- that is Captain Sparrow to you mate - "if you don't get on with it, I swear I will . . ." What luv? Seeing as you are the one chained to the bed Jack smiled again. Ah, yes and the way he tossed his head back when the ecstasy hit him, that all too often hidden coffee brown hair spread about the lusterous pillows and those pretty moans coming from his throat. The thoughts fair had him squirming himself.

He simply could not decide. And the shopkeeper was definitely giving him the evil eye now. He did the only thing he could do, he pulled the ever convenient pistol and stole all four. Pirate after all.