JACK
The averted eyes - or in some cases, very careful glances from over newspapers or out of the periphery - are enough for Jack to consider the matter laid to rest. But as heat ripples in The Ark's thoughts the way he's felt it a hundred, hundred times and yet never at all like this, the Captain is understandably distracted. Especially as she angles herself towards him, her hand finding his back, her curves pressed flush against his body. "That was all you, love," he assures her - the way it had felt, at least, however much he'll take credit for being the catalyst.
Her desire is enough to have him reacting to her in perfect harmony; her chin tips up and he's already leaning back in, though this time there's no denying that what they're doing is kissing, whether she knows the word for it or not. Jack flicks his cigarette away, no longer needing it, and it gives him the freedom to reach up with his free hand, fingers plunging into the fire of her hair to clasp the back of her neck and hold her close.
The arm around her waist clasps her close against the line of his body, following that quiet, restrictive enjoyment that had flowed to the surface to see if it might spark anything more, and though breathing is apparently important, suddenly Jack feels like he can make do with that last breath for, oh, the rest of his life maybe.
Her desire is enough to have him reacting to her in perfect harmony; her chin tips up and he's already leaning back in, though this time there's no denying that what they're doing is kissing, whether she knows the word for it or not. Jack flicks his cigarette away, no longer needing it, and it gives him the freedom to reach up with his free hand, fingers plunging into the fire of her hair to clasp the back of her neck and hold her close.
The arm around her waist clasps her close against the line of his body, following that quiet, restrictive enjoyment that had flowed to the surface to see if it might spark anything more, and though breathing is apparently important, suddenly Jack feels like he can make do with that last breath for, oh, the rest of his life maybe.
you're the last of a dying breed; write our names in the wet concrete
I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me
I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me
Code stolen from Queen Sky
- Secret Telepath
- Functionally Immortal (Forever 35)
- Two small star tattoos beneath his left eye
- Click for The Ark!
