bottom line, we made it out the first time still in love and half alive
The Ark smirks faintly at his instruction, breath still uneven but eyes bright. "You were quiet," she points out, the words brushing his mouth just before he steals it again. When his shirt disappears and his bare skin meets hers, the contact is immediate and startling in its intensity. It is no longer just heat; it is charge. Every place they touch seems to spark, sensation darting and flaring across her nerves in bright lines that leave her breath hitching.
As he guides her properly onto the bed and her head settles against the pillows, the world narrows again to the space between their bodies. Her hands drift downward without hesitation, drawn by curiosity and by the obvious tension she can feel in him. Her fingers fumble briefly around the line of his belt, and when her hand closes around his cock, she inhales sharply at the firmness, the living heat there. She gives an instinctive squeeze, not refined but deliberate, fascinated by the way he reacts beneath her touch.
When Jack's hand moves between her thighs again, she shivers hard, her hips lifting instinctively into the contact. The sensation is immediate and electric, her body flinching into him and then pressing forward in the same breath. As his finger slips inside of her, her grip tightens both around him and where it's tangled in his hair before breathing his name like it is both plea and declaration, eyes dark and intent on his. "I want," she says again, emphatic and certain, the heat in her voice matched by the way her body moves against him, no hesitation left in her at all. "Jack—"
As he guides her properly onto the bed and her head settles against the pillows, the world narrows again to the space between their bodies. Her hands drift downward without hesitation, drawn by curiosity and by the obvious tension she can feel in him. Her fingers fumble briefly around the line of his belt, and when her hand closes around his cock, she inhales sharply at the firmness, the living heat there. She gives an instinctive squeeze, not refined but deliberate, fascinated by the way he reacts beneath her touch.
When Jack's hand moves between her thighs again, she shivers hard, her hips lifting instinctively into the contact. The sensation is immediate and electric, her body flinching into him and then pressing forward in the same breath. As his finger slips inside of her, her grip tightens both around him and where it's tangled in his hair before breathing his name like it is both plea and declaration, eyes dark and intent on his. "I want," she says again, emphatic and certain, the heat in her voice matched by the way her body moves against him, no hesitation left in her at all. "Jack—"
we didn't die, but no guarantees this time, but fuck it lets do it again
Siren's Wake | After she leaves a space, traces of her presence linger briefly: a faint scent of salt, the sound of distant water, a restless feeling in the chest. People rarely notice it consciously.
