Indian Food and Pirate Smut
Aug. 8th, 2004 11:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dwgmGrandma and I went over to Thousand Oaks on an errand for Aunt Marj today and had lunch at Kohinoor. It is a very good thing that restaurant isn't in Simi Valley: I would be there every day. I can't even begin to describe how good it is. Spicy, but not hot, the varying textures and flavors, exotic and homey all at once.
*drools thinking about the deliciousness*
And it's such a pretty restaurant: Oak paneling, and everything done in burgundy and mauve. And the music, which alternately sounds sensual and exotic or bouncy and cute like the Ewok song at the end of Return of the Jedi. The whole thing is just a great dining experience.
Did some stuff at work, but the phones and the people!! Aaaaarrrrgh! But that's why we're there, isn't it?
Re: the Drabble/Ficlet Challenge Meme --![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
torn_eledhwen wrote the greatest little fic for me! I requested...
Anamaria collapsed on deck, her hair coming loose from its pigtail, out of breath. She opened her clenched fist and let the coins roll out on to dark planking.
There was a gentle thud, and booted feet landed next to her. She looked up, and met Jack Sparrow’s laughing dark eyes. He threw a gaudy necklace into her lap.
“Present, love.”
“Got my own,” she said, showing him the treasure she had taken from the merchant ship the Black Pearl had raided.
“What did you think?” Jack asked, sitting down beside her and tucking his dagger into his sash. “Your first time taking a ship?”
Ana picked up a coin and touched the embossed surface. “I didn’t think it would be like that,” she said.
“What did you think it’d be like?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Less … how do you say it? Less exciting. Less …” she turned her head, and grinned at her friend. “I loved it.”
“Knew we’d make a pirate out of you,” Jack said, with satisfaction. “Let’s hope that raid was the first o’ many.”
“I hope so too,” Anamaria returned. “The first of many.”
And then she made a request of me:
Since Harry is my OFC from my Harry & the Pirate stories, I'm not going to post it to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
pirategasm or potc_fic. It's a bit on the spicy side, so be warned.
Note tofabu: I have the plot done for your request as well, but this one came to me like a vision. Had to indulge the muse.
Gifted with a feverish cold by his infant son upon his return from six weeks of successful pillaging and plundering on the Black Pearl, Jack lay abed with his wife one afternoon, having been persuaded to nap during the heat of the day in consideration of his fragile health. The two had indeed fallen asleep (eventually), but woke at four o’clock, groggy and covered with a sheen of sweat.
“Too hot even for a sheet!” Jack said, throwing it off them. He pulled it up again, however, when there came a light knock on the door.
“Come in!” called Harry, smiling at this sudden attack of modesty. “It’s only Rachel,” she said to him, having recognized the knock.
“That’s what I’m afraid of. She’s been givin’ me the eye, y’know.”
Harry gave a peal of laughter, and Jack grinned as Rachel entered the room, carrying a tray.
“Looks like you’re feelin’ lots better!” she smiled. “Brought you a little something to cool you off. It’s a close day, and no mistake.”
“Close! It’s like a bloody furnace in here,” Jack complained.
“Well, you just take a sip and a bite here, and I’ll draw back the drapes and open the window wider. There’s a little breeze startin’ up outside. But keep that sheet over you: you don’t want to catch a chill.”
“A chill!” Jack said derisively, when she’d gone. He threw the sheet off them again. “What’s she brought us?”
“Rum punch, and some of that lovely blancmange Anatole made us last night.”
Harry handed him one of the drinks, and Jack took a sip. “More punch than rum here,” he groused. “But at least there’s ice.”
“Do you want some of this?” asked Harry, picking up a dish of the soft white pudding and a silver spoon.
“No. You know I don’t care for that pap. Reminds me of bein’ sick as a lad.”
“Oh, but Anatole has had it chilled for us. It’s lovely!” She closed her eyes as she took a slow spoonful, savoring it with lips and tongue. “Mmmmm…almonds, and vanilla!”
Jack lay back, watching her sensual enjoyment with a slight smirk and eyelids at half mast. “Good?”
“Lovely!” she said again. She looked at him then, laying there, and her expression became mischievous. “I know how to cool you with it!”
As she moved up beside him with the little dish and spoon, his eyes narrowed. “What?”
She shook her head imperiously. “Hold very still!”
He rolled his eyes a bit, but lay back, resigned. She then proceeded to take a small spoonful of the pudding and placed it in a cold little mound on his chest. She paused to admire the contrast of white against bronze, then continued, placing another, and another. He started to laugh when she placed one just to the right of his navel, but she gave him an admonishing look. After that he was quite still, at least until she completed the task and began to consume her scattered handiwork, with as sensual an air as she’d used on the spoon. By the time she was finished and peered up at him with a wicked smile he was almost beyond words.
“You see?” she said. “Lovely.”
He loosed his grip on the sheets and managed to say, “If that was meant to cool me it quite failed its purpose.”
She crawled up, half covering him, a knee between his legs, one hand roaming lightly in a southerly direction. “I noticed.”
“Oh, my God,” he said, and turned, pushing her over onto her back and kissing her. “You, madam, are incorrigible.”
“Incorrigible? Me?” she said, eyes wide with feigned innocence. Then she smiled. “But, of course. Don’t you remember? That’s why you married me.”
*drools thinking about the deliciousness*
And it's such a pretty restaurant: Oak paneling, and everything done in burgundy and mauve. And the music, which alternately sounds sensual and exotic or bouncy and cute like the Ewok song at the end of Return of the Jedi. The whole thing is just a great dining experience.
Did some stuff at work, but the phones and the people!! Aaaaarrrrgh! But that's why we're there, isn't it?
Re: the Drabble/Ficlet Challenge Meme --
torn_eledhwen wrote the greatest little fic for me! I requested...PotC ('cause she can write LotR, etc. too)
Title: Firsts
Pairing: Jack/Ana
Line of Dialogue: "I didn't think it would be like that."
~ Firsts ~
Anamaria collapsed on deck, her hair coming loose from its pigtail, out of breath. She opened her clenched fist and let the coins roll out on to dark planking.
There was a gentle thud, and booted feet landed next to her. She looked up, and met Jack Sparrow’s laughing dark eyes. He threw a gaudy necklace into her lap.
“Present, love.”
“Got my own,” she said, showing him the treasure she had taken from the merchant ship the Black Pearl had raided.
“What did you think?” Jack asked, sitting down beside her and tucking his dagger into his sash. “Your first time taking a ship?”
Ana picked up a coin and touched the embossed surface. “I didn’t think it would be like that,” she said.
“What did you think it’d be like?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “Less … how do you say it? Less exciting. Less …” she turned her head, and grinned at her friend. “I loved it.”
“Knew we’d make a pirate out of you,” Jack said, with satisfaction. “Let’s hope that raid was the first o’ many.”
“I hope so too,” Anamaria returned. “The first of many.”
And then she made a request of me:
Title: Blancmange
Pairing: Jack/Harry
Line of Dialogue: "Incorrigble? Me?"
Since Harry is my OFC from my Harry & the Pirate stories, I'm not going to post it to
pirategasm or potc_fic. It's a bit on the spicy side, so be warned.Note to
fabu: I have the plot done for your request as well, but this one came to me like a vision. Had to indulge the muse. ~ Blancmange ~
Gifted with a feverish cold by his infant son upon his return from six weeks of successful pillaging and plundering on the Black Pearl, Jack lay abed with his wife one afternoon, having been persuaded to nap during the heat of the day in consideration of his fragile health. The two had indeed fallen asleep (eventually), but woke at four o’clock, groggy and covered with a sheen of sweat.
“Too hot even for a sheet!” Jack said, throwing it off them. He pulled it up again, however, when there came a light knock on the door.
“Come in!” called Harry, smiling at this sudden attack of modesty. “It’s only Rachel,” she said to him, having recognized the knock.
“That’s what I’m afraid of. She’s been givin’ me the eye, y’know.”
Harry gave a peal of laughter, and Jack grinned as Rachel entered the room, carrying a tray.
“Looks like you’re feelin’ lots better!” she smiled. “Brought you a little something to cool you off. It’s a close day, and no mistake.”
“Close! It’s like a bloody furnace in here,” Jack complained.
“Well, you just take a sip and a bite here, and I’ll draw back the drapes and open the window wider. There’s a little breeze startin’ up outside. But keep that sheet over you: you don’t want to catch a chill.”
“A chill!” Jack said derisively, when she’d gone. He threw the sheet off them again. “What’s she brought us?”
“Rum punch, and some of that lovely blancmange Anatole made us last night.”
Harry handed him one of the drinks, and Jack took a sip. “More punch than rum here,” he groused. “But at least there’s ice.”
“Do you want some of this?” asked Harry, picking up a dish of the soft white pudding and a silver spoon.
“No. You know I don’t care for that pap. Reminds me of bein’ sick as a lad.”
“Oh, but Anatole has had it chilled for us. It’s lovely!” She closed her eyes as she took a slow spoonful, savoring it with lips and tongue. “Mmmmm…almonds, and vanilla!”
Jack lay back, watching her sensual enjoyment with a slight smirk and eyelids at half mast. “Good?”
“Lovely!” she said again. She looked at him then, laying there, and her expression became mischievous. “I know how to cool you with it!”
As she moved up beside him with the little dish and spoon, his eyes narrowed. “What?”
She shook her head imperiously. “Hold very still!”
He rolled his eyes a bit, but lay back, resigned. She then proceeded to take a small spoonful of the pudding and placed it in a cold little mound on his chest. She paused to admire the contrast of white against bronze, then continued, placing another, and another. He started to laugh when she placed one just to the right of his navel, but she gave him an admonishing look. After that he was quite still, at least until she completed the task and began to consume her scattered handiwork, with as sensual an air as she’d used on the spoon. By the time she was finished and peered up at him with a wicked smile he was almost beyond words.
“You see?” she said. “Lovely.”
He loosed his grip on the sheets and managed to say, “If that was meant to cool me it quite failed its purpose.”
She crawled up, half covering him, a knee between his legs, one hand roaming lightly in a southerly direction. “I noticed.”
“Oh, my God,” he said, and turned, pushing her over onto her back and kissing her. “You, madam, are incorrigible.”
“Incorrigible? Me?” she said, eyes wide with feigned innocence. Then she smiled. “But, of course. Don’t you remember? That’s why you married me.”
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2004-08-10 12:53 am (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2004-08-10 05:54 am (UTC)Nice!
Date: 2004-08-10 07:33 am (UTC)I'm noticing that everyone doing the meme seems to avoid the more obvious interpretations or ways to work in the dialogue. Makes it more fun to read them!
Re: Nice!
Date: 2004-08-10 07:42 am (UTC)Re: Nice!
Date: 2004-08-10 03:37 pm (UTC)Re: Nice!
Date: 2004-08-10 03:45 pm (UTC)I requested the J/A one from you because I loved the way you portrayed their friendship in your long fics. And I was not disappointed. "Firsts" was beautifully done.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-10 01:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-10 02:01 pm (UTC)