i look fly, i look good

JACK

Jack is beyond rational thoughts like what is happening beyond these cabin walls? and I say, has my ship started to sail into the sky by itself? such that when all this is over - and they won't have very long to wait, something Murphy will likely be relieved about - it will be as much of a surprise to the Captain as to anyone else that they're airborne. For now though, it's just the movement of their bodies and the swell of ecstasy that gathers within her and begs for release, a call that Jack is heedless to do anything but answer.

Swearing softly against the crook of her neck and clutching her closer, the storm of her mind is echoed in every buck and roll of their hips; he abandons care and sweetness for the raw pleasure of fucking, leaving reason behind like something to be picked up as an afterthought. "Cum for me," he hisses against the shell of her ear, trusting her to understand his meaning even if the language is new, and when she does, gods, he follows near immediately on the heels of it.

Pleasure whipcracks through him with force enough to steal his breath and his senses, Jack's fingers clutching at the pillow over her head as he rides it out with each slow, deep thrust. It hasn't been long for the Captain, not comparatively, but even so this feels like something over and above a good time between the sheets at a brothel. This is heightened in a way that feels intimate and new, that crosses boundaries from the simple and the physical, and he's left reeling in the wake of it and panting hard against her.

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