you look like my next mistake
Looking at him skeptically, Flora glanced over her shoulder as if half expecting to see the room suddenly filled with prostitutes enacting the captain's greatest hits. When the world remained a dark canvas smeared with the texture of her thoughts, the Doubletake turned back, her confusion a blurred watermark of blue. "Wait, so—" But then he's filling in the gaps, and as he reaches for her, the room is drenched in a sudden tide of wine punctuated by islands of shimmering garnet that appear in perfect unison with the pulse of her heart.
"It really is just pleasure?" Flora whispers, wonderingly. The leather chaise has expanded so that they might not have to worry about fucking around the confines of the little couch, as the queen leans back, she drags Jack with her. "It's not...I dunno, pain or control, or...?" He'd said what he said, but forgive Flora for thinking that someone who was as self-professed as a bastard like Jack might not get off on some of the other sorts of emotions he was capable of siphoning out from those in his orbit.
"It really is just pleasure?" Flora whispers, wonderingly. The leather chaise has expanded so that they might not have to worry about fucking around the confines of the little couch, as the queen leans back, she drags Jack with her. "It's not...I dunno, pain or control, or...?" He'd said what he said, but forgive Flora for thinking that someone who was as self-professed as a bastard like Jack might not get off on some of the other sorts of emotions he was capable of siphoning out from those in his orbit.
