i look fly, i look good

JACK

In a place like King's End with the House of Midnight on the horizon nearby, it's hardly the first time, Jack bets, that people have witnessed couples getting hot and heavy in the marketplace. He bets they've witnessed a lot more than that too, but even so, he doubts they've ever seen anything quite like The Ark. It likely comes as little surprise either that the Captain is a very patient teacher in these matters; whether clumsy or confident or quietly explorative, the newness of each sensation is something he presses into, letting her feel her way into what she likes best so he can meet it again and again.

And oh, he plans to - at least until that flush of growing arousal sharpens into something like alarm, Jack drawing back with a soft gasp of breath, eyes a little dazed behind his sunglasses as he blinks down at her. "Wrong?" His voice is rough, one hand still gently tangled in her back of her hair, the other having strayed to the hem of her blouse with every intention of slipping beneath it had they not stopped.

"Wrong ain't the word I'd use," he almost mutters, biting at the inside of his cheek in the hope that the spark of pain will lend him a little more composure. "You can't catch fire in that body," he manages after a few seconds of feeling very much like a teenager, Jack shifting back away from her for a tactical adjustment of his pants. "It just feels that way. We can stop, though. Prob'ly for the best out here."

you're the last of a dying breed; write our names in the wet concrete
I wonder if your therapist knows everything about me

Code stolen from Queen Sky