JACK
To be enough and to have it so easily accepted will one day, he suspects, start to stitch together the wound left over from Flora's departure; a wound that feels close to healing some days and torn wide open again on others. Jack bites the inside of his cheek not to say anything out loud, because if there is anything that stirs within him for it, it's regret not to have realised that all of this this - that she - had slumbered within his ship all along, waiting only for the touch of his hands and the cunning of his mind.
"That may be the case," he says of the air and the trees and the wayward currents that weave between them, "but you command 'em all the same. Still, I ain't ever gonna choose the sky over the sea given the chance." The freedom gained from being able to take his ship wherever he pleased in Caido can't be discounted, no, but preference is another thing entirely, and Jack has always been a man of the water.
The canvas pools against the boards, then, and pearls go skittering into corners and beneath his bunk and his desk, and whilst the Captain might be unique in that his own pleasure finds itself best when echoed in someone else, he's still got eyes in his fucking head. The Ark is wild and breathtaking in a way that would bring men and women to their knees, Jack forcing his eyes not to linger enough for his body to risk betraying him.
"Worse, probably," he hazards, his fingers skimming across her bare shoulder to brush a curl of red behind one of her ears. A whisper of magic has his fingertips frosting over to demonstrate, Jack smirking and making himself step back and away from her. "For everything you might gain with a body, you're also real fragile." So saying, Jack steps over to a trunk and flips it open, reaching in to drag out one of his shirts; soft, sunbleached linen, oversized for her but comfortable, and offers it out.
"That may be the case," he says of the air and the trees and the wayward currents that weave between them, "but you command 'em all the same. Still, I ain't ever gonna choose the sky over the sea given the chance." The freedom gained from being able to take his ship wherever he pleased in Caido can't be discounted, no, but preference is another thing entirely, and Jack has always been a man of the water.
The canvas pools against the boards, then, and pearls go skittering into corners and beneath his bunk and his desk, and whilst the Captain might be unique in that his own pleasure finds itself best when echoed in someone else, he's still got eyes in his fucking head. The Ark is wild and breathtaking in a way that would bring men and women to their knees, Jack forcing his eyes not to linger enough for his body to risk betraying him.
"Worse, probably," he hazards, his fingers skimming across her bare shoulder to brush a curl of red behind one of her ears. A whisper of magic has his fingertips frosting over to demonstrate, Jack smirking and making himself step back and away from her. "For everything you might gain with a body, you're also real fragile." So saying, Jack steps over to a trunk and flips it open, reaching in to drag out one of his shirts; soft, sunbleached linen, oversized for her but comfortable, and offers it out.
fight so dirty but you love so sweet
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
talk so pretty but your heart got teeth
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
