the next best thing will do

i can make the badguys good for a weekend

As sensation creeps back into her limbs, Charlie lets herself be gathered up, pliant and boneless for the span of a breath, the afterglow still humming through her like embers stirred by a careful hand. When Jack pulls her upright and kisses her again, life rushes back in a warm surge—heat blooming, breath catching—and her hands find him without thought, nails dragging through his hair and along his shoulders as she draws him closer.

There’s a pleasure in this that goes beyond the blaze itself, something attentive and deliberate; the slow art of coaxing a flame to life rather than merely striking a match. The priestess, more than used to being used as a means to pleasure and not minding it, feels it, appreciates it, answers it with a low, contented sound that curls at the back of her throat.

"I can see why they call you The Captain," she purrs against his mouth, words brushing his lips before she leans in to kiss him again, unhurried and confident. Her hips rock lightly, a teasing promise against his still-trapped erection, and her tail traces a wandering line up the outside of his thigh before nestling through one of his now empty belt loops in order to tug his pants down.

.