i look fly, i look good

JACK

They lay together, fighting to catch their breath and with the ship hovering lazily over the Boondocks, and Jack only realises belatedly that, all around the bunk, a circle of thick frost reaches for them with jagged, icy fingertips. It's as though they are what has detonated and his magic has scored a ring around them to mark the radius; Jack gazes at it without truly seeing it, and as The Ark's arms close properly around him he succumbs to the quiet nothing that rides in the wake of his climax.

And when thought does filter back through a few long and blissful seconds later, it's little more than the lingering choppiness in the waves of her mind, contentment and satisfaction and the urge to be and do nothing more than this. Just this.

The smile on Jack's face is faint and breathless, the Captain loose limbed and unwilling to move for anything less than life or death urgency. He shifts enough to not quite trap her beneath him, but otherwise sinks against her entirely, his eyes feeling strangely heavy in a way that is a marked difference from the usual. There's no detached rolling away, no swift return of composure, no urgency to dress and leave and get on with his day.

Instead, his arms curling possessively around her, Jack exhales in a long, boneless sigh and lets his eyes shut. "And now you know," he mumbles, amusement lacing through the rough cadence of his voice, his smile something she'll be able to feel against her neck.

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