i look fly, i look good

JACK

They're lucky, perhaps, that the vast majority of the crew are enjoying all that King's End has to offer today - though the crew might not see it that way based on the symphony they might be about to miss. Regardless, Jack follows in The Ark's wake without any thought for them; his hand is warm in hers, his steps quick and sure across the deck even if walking is becoming deeply uncomfortable for a lot of quite obvious reasons. Never has the length of the ship felt so endless, and by the time the quiet shade of his cabin is upon them, his patience has all but worn away.

Kicking the cabin door shut with his heel, Jack's hands are back on her with unmistakable urgency. He walks her back against the edge of his desk, meeting her lips in a kiss that will steal breath and leave sultry promises with every practiced flick of his tongue. Rough hands corset her waist, mapping the sweet curve of her body, and whilst in the near future he might tear her blouse open, today he's careful in the unfastening of those buttons, relishing the silk of it against her skin and his fingers.

"You have no idea how hard it was to watch that tailor with his hands on you," he mutters against her lips, his voice pitched low. He leaves the bralette for now, hand skimming over the lace panelling and the swell of her breast beneath it, as if to leave his mark on something that should never have been touched by anyone else.

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