i look fly, i look good

JACK

"I stand corrected," Jack says, a ghost of reproach in his expression entirely ruined by the heat and laughter dancing in his eyes. As fresh fire thrums through her and the frost at his fingertips dies away, the Captain would be lying if he said he hadn't expected her to kiss him again. Instead though, it's something maddeningly better and worse all at once, her hips rocking against him, her arms tangled around his neck, and there's no liquor strong enough in the world to stifle the reaction his body is guaranteed to give her.

Rather than ruin it immediately with words, Jack opts for action instead, both hands dropping to her hips now to guide the rock and grind of them against him, his head tilting to press hot kisses against the side of her neck, the space just beneath her jaw where touch and sensation are more sensitive. His magic doesn't seek to follow direction now - it explores as much as she does, ready to catch on anything she enjoys to tease it further into life.

There's a point though, of course, where the bow of the ship becomes problematic for space and logistics, and though Jack would have fucked her up here for all to see given just a fraction more experience, he forces himself to draw back. Eyes hazy, magic swamped by the feel of her and the sensations crackling beneath her skin, and with his body standing very much to attention, he nods over her shoulder towards the cabin. "C'mon," he says gruffly, urging her to lead the way.

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