"What makes you think I won't kill you, hm?" James brought his hook up to rest against Peter's cheek in a movement that was half threatening and half…tender? From anyone else that touch would be the kind of thing a lover would do, the gentle cupping of a cheek that a lover would give. From James, with his hook, it seemed more of a threat than anything, the metal cold and harsh and unforgiving. "Why would you ever think you're safe here?"
Peter swallowed as he felt the cold metal on his warm cheek. He started to feel some aches from the earlier fall. It all slowed his mind down. “I…” his voice was softer now. “You know, I hadn’t even considered it. You could kill me right now, you know. But you’re not.”
Besides, maybe dying wouldn’t be so bad. Then again, the fact that he would die at the captain’s hands soured the idea. It would be so pathetic to spend all this time battling and evading his nemesis, only to now give in to fate when he was already at his lowest.
James cocked his head very faintly, still standing oh so close to Peter, their noses practically touching now with how close the captain was. "I could." he agreed, voice low and soft but still lined with that edge of cruelty that he had always had. He dragged the hook along Peter's cheek, though it didn't cut into his skin. But it was still there, right against the delicate skin of Peter's face. "I could kill you right here, Panpipes."
"But I could kill you too, James," he breathed. "I've got half a mind to." If the hook did cut into his cheek, he would run. Or at least, try to run. His heart was practically vibrating from the captain's close proximity, which he hated, but at least it gave him the adrenaline needed to move quickly.
"With what, Peter? What are you going to kill me with?" the hook slid along Peter's skin. The captain would never be so close if he hadn't had the stuff to drink. "I didn't see a dagger on you, and I'd love to see what you think you're going to kill me with." a smirk pulled across his mouth as he looked down at the other man. His dark curls hung down around his shoulders in soft strands, a few hanging into his face.
“My own bare hands, of course.” Why wasn’t he pushing the hook off of him? He should at least do that, to gain some sort of advantage. But instead, he found himself reaching up and twirling a dark lock of hair around his finger. He raised up his other hand too, for good measure. “Here they are. Are you satisfied?” He sneered.
James's gaze flickered faintly when Peter twirled a lock of hair around his finger. They were standing so close, and it was hard to deny that Peter had turned into, well, a rather attractive young man. But Peter was still his enemy. He could not forget that. Would never forget it, not when the hook against Peter's cheek was only there because Peter had cut it off. Could not forget it, when that scar across his throat came from Peter, too. "Of course I am not satisfied." he replied, dragging the tip of his hook lightly across Peter's cheek. From another man, with a flesh hand, it could have been a lover's caress. From James, it was a threat.
Something made Peter chuckle. He had slashed the captain many times, but actually putting his hands on him? He was almost excited, wanting to see what it felt like. He tried to ignore the more carnal aspect of that desire. The feeling of putting his hands on James’s throat was too fleeting.
“Why not, Codfish? It is bad form to attack an unarmed person, right?” He chuckled, yanking the lock of hair slightly just as James dragged his hook.
James narrowed his eyes, though he didn't respond otherwise to the yanking on that lock of hair. If this was anyone else, he would never have allowed them this close, unless they were a romantic and/or sexual partner. Peter was his enemy. Why was he allowing the other man this close to him? "Ah, but Panpipes, we are both unarmed." his sword was not belted at his side. It was not normally at his side when he was in his cabin. Instead, it was leaning against the closet, sheathed. He did not look towards it, since he knew that would only draw Peter's attention to it. "We are on even ground."
“Oh, I beg to differ!” He grinned widely. “I say that whenever this hook is attached to your body, you are armed. You said it yourself, you could kill me here and now. And what would you kill me with? Why, of course it would be that lovely hook you’ve got.”
He was so excited. For no reason. Why was he excited? Was it this closeness? Was it the possibility of a fight? Just the idea of putting his hands to Jame’s skin thrilled him.
(Peter, honey, you're horny–)
"Then beg, Peter." James replied, mouth pulling into a smirk. "This hook is a part of me now, and you have only yourself to blame. Killing you with this hook would be like killing you with my bare hands." well, bare hand. He only had the one now, and that was the whole point of this conversation. James had only one hand, and the other a hook, because of Peter's own actions. "I say that this hook does not count as being armed."
(Very horny)
(Peter really is like "I'm so excited to be this close, i wonder why" whereas James is sort of aware of his own,,, feelings lmao)
He kept curling the lock of hair around his finger. “Oh yes. I blame myself entirely. I’m so proud of this little work I’ve done.” He tapped the hook. “But it’s hardly the equivalent of a real hand, isn’t it? It’s more like… a dagger. A dagger that you carry around everywhere.”
The way Peter was playing with his hair could have been romantic or flirtatious, from anyone else. From Peter… James wasn't sure what it meant. His lip curled at Peter's words about his hand. "Of course it's hardly an equivalent. A true replacement doesn't exist." he growled, leaning closer to Peter in an attempt to intimidate him a little bit. "But it still counts as a hand, panpipes."
This only made Peter more excited. He delighted in this closeness, but he couldn’t imagine why other than the possibility of a fight. “Are you sure, Codfish?” He chuckled cheekily. “Perhaps we should define what a hand and a hook are, then. Do you perhaps have a dictionary lying around?” He laughed at himself. He barely even knew how to read anyway, but he liked messing with James like this.
They were so close that James's nose was brushing against Peter's in a closeness that felt far different than any other encounter he had ever had with Peter. His mouth twitched into a smirk, a lazy, easy one at that. "It's attached to my arm, isn't it?" he reached out with his hand, sliding it along Peter's forearm and down to his wrist, gripping it lightly. "Just like your hands are attached to yours."
Something about the nose touch made Peter’s cheeks flush. “It’s attached to your arm in the same way that— that…” he let out a breath as he felt Jame’s touch on his bare skin. “In the same way that you hold a knife. You can easily take it on and off, can’t you? I can’t imagine you sleep with that hook.”
God, Peter looked adorable with the blush– no. No, absolutely not. James was not going to let that train of thought get any further. "Of course I don't sleep with it. But it is still attached to me, no?" he brushed the top rounded edge of the hook along Peter's cheek, the metal still cool and chilled against the young man's skin. "But I could sleep with it, if I wanted to. I have before, by covering the tip with something to protect myself."
Suddenly, Peter was quiet. He couldn’t come up with an answer right away. His hair had dried by now, and he ran a hand through it. It was strange; his cheeks were still hot, but the rest of his skin was cold from being in the rain. His other hand held onto James’s, moving up into his sleeve. “Heh. This is stupid,” he muttered. “Are we going to kill each other or not?” His other hand reached up to the hook against his cheek.
James stared down at Peter, raising his eyebrows slightly. "Are we?" he questioned back, cocking his head and staring at Peter with a faint smirk still curling at his lips. "What do you want, panpipes? You want this to be a fight again? We can make this a fight, if that's what you would prefer from me."
“Oh?” Something made him smirk too. “I don’t know, you were the one who brought it up. I’m still not leaving. Do you still want me to leave? Because I won’t, not without a fight.”
Peter’s fingers lightly dragged on the skin on James’s arm. He had remembered what he was feeling, and he tried to rein it in, despite the captain’s expression and demeanor keeping him still, almost relaxed.
"Mhm, is that really what you want to tell yourself?" James asked, cocking his head faintly as he looked down at Peter, suppressing a shiver at the way Peter's fingers dragged along his arm. "You really want to fight me right now, Peter? Are you sure taht's what you want?"
He raised an eyebrow at him. “… No,” he admitted. “I just want a place to take shelter from the rain.” He brushed his fingers back down to James’s wrist.
James inhaled softly, staring down at Peter. "And why do you think that this would be a good place for you to do that? Why do you think that I would be a good, safe place for you to take shelter with? I could kill you in your sleep, you know." his hook trailed down, the curve of it under his chin and angling Peter's chin upwards in a gesture that was… almost romantic.