marked me like a bloodstain
He stills, just as she'd known he would. There's something wildly satisfying about being the one to set the pace, and even as Flora hugs Jack's arm tightly around her, she's still able to keep her hips rolling rhythmically against him even as her upper body contorts to stay pressed firmly within his arms. It's an exercise in flexibility, and even as one of the captain's hands slides between her legs, Flora is somehow able to account for the space he needs without changing the movement of her hips.
"No, don't—" Flora pants, a touch frantically perhaps as the captain's needy curses hit her ear. While it made little sense to her and probably made even less to Jack, somehow Flora knew that for however good it would feel to be fucked, she'd be left all the more hollow for it after. There was being wanted, and then there was being wanted, and gods but it was too nuanced for Flora's mind to chart out for Jack just then, such that he'd just have to take his guidance from the movement of her hands and the approval of her thoughts.
"I want it like this." She adds reassuringly, her cheek brushing against his as her breath catches in her throat. Vaguely she imagines him on top of her; his hands interlaced through hers and her legs wrapped around his waist. That would be fine too, just so long as it was slow. So long as she could feel him with every thrust, and not just the pressure of his fingertips or the pounding of his cock.
"No, don't—" Flora pants, a touch frantically perhaps as the captain's needy curses hit her ear. While it made little sense to her and probably made even less to Jack, somehow Flora knew that for however good it would feel to be fucked, she'd be left all the more hollow for it after. There was being wanted, and then there was being wanted, and gods but it was too nuanced for Flora's mind to chart out for Jack just then, such that he'd just have to take his guidance from the movement of her hands and the approval of her thoughts.
"I want it like this." She adds reassuringly, her cheek brushing against his as her breath catches in her throat. Vaguely she imagines him on top of her; his hands interlaced through hers and her legs wrapped around his waist. That would be fine too, just so long as it was slow. So long as she could feel him with every thrust, and not just the pressure of his fingertips or the pounding of his cock.
