you look like my next mistake
Flora might have begged the captain to fuck her if she wasn't well aware that he knew precisely the torture he was imposing on them both and was choosing to do it anyway. Arching her back beneath his hands in an effort to look a certain way, the Doubletake realized belatedly that it wasn't Jack she needed to pose for, but herself. Rather than tensing her stomach until it hurt or holding her limbs in uncomfortable positions for the sake of Jack's gaze, Flora instead let herself settle on the bed, relishing the cool firmness of the leather beneath her skin and basking in the imagery of how good she knew she looked, and one he seemingly was able to walk without any difficulty.
The quintessential reds and burgundies that wafted around the room like silk curtains caught in a breeze abruptly darkened as Jack's fingers found their way into the curve of her hip and he thrust himself forward. "—Jack" The word was forced from her mouth with the force of him, her lips already in the shape of his name. Flora liked it possessive-rough, but not rough-rough, a line she was grateful she didn't have to articulate to Jack.
Beneath the colourful spray of her own thoughts and with her fingers clutching the black leather of her bed, Flora felt as victorious as she did beautiful. Pressing herself up onto her knees, she reached for Jack's hands that she might press one between her thighs while the other she snaked across her breasts. Only when his palm had ghosted over her nipples sending shivers down her spine did she tilt her head back against his shoulder, curving his hand across her throat.
The quintessential reds and burgundies that wafted around the room like silk curtains caught in a breeze abruptly darkened as Jack's fingers found their way into the curve of her hip and he thrust himself forward. "—Jack" The word was forced from her mouth with the force of him, her lips already in the shape of his name. Flora liked it possessive-rough, but not rough-rough, a line she was grateful she didn't have to articulate to Jack.
Beneath the colourful spray of her own thoughts and with her fingers clutching the black leather of her bed, Flora felt as victorious as she did beautiful. Pressing herself up onto her knees, she reached for Jack's hands that she might press one between her thighs while the other she snaked across her breasts. Only when his palm had ghosted over her nipples sending shivers down her spine did she tilt her head back against his shoulder, curving his hand across her throat.
