i see nothing better, i'll keep him forever, like a vendetta
The Ark chuckles beneath her breath as they leave the boardwalk behind. "You question everyone’s competence regularly." It is less criticism than acknowledgement of one of the qualities responsible for keeping Jack alive and several steps ahead of nearly everyone around him. Telepathy may give him access to weaknesses most people believe hidden, but suspicion has always been an instinct of his rather than merely a product of magic.
At his outrage over being granted control of his own hair, she glances over and rewards him with a wink. [says]"I’m at my most generous just after breakfast. Count yourself lucky." Her expression remains every bit as innocent when she adds, "well of course. How else would you know whether it was the right length?"
The question of what qualifies as the right length has The Ark stalling as she reaches out to catch his arm and draws him to a halt, attention settling on his hair with the sober concentration of someone inspecting rigging before a storm. Her fingers comb through the damp strands, gathering them gradually until her hand closes at the base of his skull around several inches of hair. She tests the hold with a measured pull, enough to tip his head without causing pain, while her mind supplies the practical context in vivid detail: Jack fucking her, her body braced beneath his with her fist locked in his hair to keep him exactly where she wants him as they both cum together in a crescendo of sound with Jack's own name rising to the top.
"About there," she decides casually, releasing him as though she hasn’t just waved an entire lurid tableau directly into his thoughts.
At his outrage over being granted control of his own hair, she glances over and rewards him with a wink. [says]"I’m at my most generous just after breakfast. Count yourself lucky." Her expression remains every bit as innocent when she adds, "well of course. How else would you know whether it was the right length?"
The question of what qualifies as the right length has The Ark stalling as she reaches out to catch his arm and draws him to a halt, attention settling on his hair with the sober concentration of someone inspecting rigging before a storm. Her fingers comb through the damp strands, gathering them gradually until her hand closes at the base of his skull around several inches of hair. She tests the hold with a measured pull, enough to tip his head without causing pain, while her mind supplies the practical context in vivid detail: Jack fucking her, her body braced beneath his with her fist locked in his hair to keep him exactly where she wants him as they both cum together in a crescendo of sound with Jack's own name rising to the top.
"About there," she decides casually, releasing him as though she hasn’t just waved an entire lurid tableau directly into his thoughts.
i see how this is gonna go, touch me and you'll never be alone
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.
