I think you’ll find

JACK

see me falling
yeah, down and lonely

It is a good thing that Jack takes a breath, though the distant pain of her fingers pulling at his hair or her leg tightening around him is nothing to the mental overwhelm of her orgasm, and while the captain's eyes are closed, rest assured the kaleidoscopic parade of colour dances behind them nonetheless. Granted, the view is likely the last thing on Flora's mind compared to riding out the ecstasy real-time, but if she does look, she might notice the way the world brightens and pulses with each call of his name, as if Jack might grab more of her somehow - mentally, physically, emotionally, he doesn't care.

Of course, what goes up must come down, and by the time Flora is herself enough to relax her grip around him, she'll be able to feel the captain's hot breath panting against her inner thigh and the way his fingertips will leave faint constellations against her hips and ass. Tilting his head up just enough that he might meet her eyes - little more than dark pools of blue hazed with the fuscia of her thoughts, at present - Jack does finally have to conjure some sort of barrier between himself and the rest of the world, else he's liable to pass out between her thighs.

Slowly the cacophony around them fades until the whorls of colour are barely that once more, and the majority of the room is painted solely in shades of Flora.

are the angels on their way?
i’m in the dirt