all islands in a common sea

JACK

Flora's thoughts are like a drug when they get like this, flush with heat and sparing no expense when it comes to sordid details or sexual creativity. Perhaps that's why Jack had been so quick to step aboard The Sugar Tide, eager for another taste after having her again so recently. He steps into the distance she creates as she hitches herself up onto the counter, leaning back just enough for her to discard her sweater, before swarming back into her space.

Encouraging her legs to wrap around his waist, already his arousal will be obvious pressed against her inner thigh, the captain's lips dragging from her own just long enough for a sip of air, before his kisses migrate down to her neck and collarbones. Gently pinching at one nipple with fingers suddenly charged with static, the smile that forms on Jack's lips is all debauchery and satisfaction, spurred on by the cinematic trailer of positions they might try out in the small space.

Alas, the bedroom is the only part of this little cabin he's not had the pleasure of seeing properly, and so - roughly shrugging off his coat first - he soon sweeps her off the counter and down the short hallway, hands dropping to the curve of her ass to support the journey there.

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

Flora

The spark against her nipple pulls a gasp from her, rich and theatrical, the sort of sound that exists purely for her own indulgence. The air she drags in next is sharp and salt-bright, filling the space he’s left as his mouth trails lower. When he scoops her up, her legs tighten instinctively around his waist, and he’s rewarded with the delighted flush of her thoughts; gold and ruby bright, sparking like sunlight through coloured glass, radiating outward with the thrill of being grabbed and carried in precisely the way he knew she liked.

Since he’s unfamiliar with the turns and tilts of the SugarTide’s heart, Flora mercilessly lets Jack look where he’s going, tipping her head just enough for her teeth to graze the shell of his ear. "Gods, I want you," she purrs, low and molten, the words curling warm in her mind and on his skin in equal measure. The want is a pulse in her blood now, thick and hot, rolling through her veins until every inch of her feels sharper and hungrier. Heat gathers low in her belly, coiling tight, while her skin prickles with the need to feel more of him; more weight, more heat, more of his hands mapping every bare inch they can reach. Her breath quickens against his ear, and it’s suddenly not enough to just have his body pressed to hers; she feels ravenous for it, for him, like every sense has locked onto the shape and feel of him and refuses to let go.

Her bedroom waits at the end of the hall like a siren’s promise—everything the rest of the SugarTide is, only more so. Maximalist, lush, unapologetically soft. Lilac, sea salt, and jasmine thread the air; the round window wears a lazy sheer that turns the sea beyond into a blurred mural of blue in motion. Shelves curve into the walls, cluttered with seashells, hairpins, books with half-folded pages, pressed flowers left to dry. And at its centre, the bed—half mattress, half daydream—swallows the room whole, pillows spilling over the edge, throws that look like they’ve been stitched from clouds.

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'

Code stolen from Queen Sky

JACK

Jack sees Flora's bedroom without truly registering it - there will be time for that later, if his senses are in any fit state. For now he's busy drowning in the drumbeat of her pulse, in the brush of her lips against the shell of his ear and the tight warmth of her against his waist, creating friction with each and every step. The bed is about as much as he registers before his mouth finds hers again, and when they reach the plush mattress, they fall into it rather than anything more intentional.

Grunting a mix of approval and surprise to be able to press his weight into her so readily against the soft mattress, Jack pushes himself back, panting, for long enough to drag his shirt over his head, though by the time he's done he's left gazing down at Flora with blue eyes smouldering with heat. "Much as I enjoyed the woods, they're nothin' on this view," he mutters, a smirk kicking up the corner of his mouth.

Reaching out with calloused fingers - spark free, this time - he lets his hand wander slowly this time, from the hollow of Flora's throat, down between her breasts and pausing just beyond her navel, where his fingers tease at the hem of her shorts. "Roll over."

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

Flora

There’s a delicious moment of weightlessness as Jack leans them forward into the bed, and it pulls a gasp from her—bright and unrestrained—followed by the instinctive clutch of her fingers into his shoulders. The sharp exhale that escapes when his weight pins her into the plush mattress is nothing short of exquisite, and it’s stolen from her far too soon. Flora lets the air go in a huff of amused disappointment as he draws back, the loss of him making the cool air feel almost rude against her skin.

When his hand begins its slow, deliberate path from the hollow of her throat, between her breasts, and down to the teasing brush at the waistband of her shorts, it takes every shred of her willpower not to squirm. or worse, to simply demand more. She knows it’s intentional, the deliberate pacing, the way he lets the wanting stretch taut between them, and gods, her thoughts flare with molten sparks, heat trembling through her until she feels unsteady with it.

His words land low in her belly, and the heat between her thighs pulses in response. Colour flashes high across her cheeks and over the bridge of her nose, but she obeys without hesitation, turning so the perfect heart-shape of her ass is squarely within his reach. And because her mind is incapable of staying in the present when the future is so vividly tempting, the next flicker of thought is forward—his body pressed flush to hers, his breath hot against her neck, his fingers biting into her hip as he moves. They’re bright at the forefront of her mind when she swallows, glancing back over her shoulder to meet his gaze with a look that is all want and no disguise.

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'

Code stolen from Queen Sky

JACK

It is intentional, but Jack knows well the delicate balance that hangs between teasing and too much, and as the heat his words provokes blooms out within Flora's mind and body, he fully intends to capitalise on it sooner rather than later. With his hands already unbuckling his belt, he catches the flush of pink against her freckled cheeks, shooting her a wolfish smirk before his gaze drops appreciatively to the ample curve of her backside on display.

Knowing how much she loves to be watched, as she shoots that perfectly coy look over her shoulder it will be to the sight of Jack fully drinking in the shape of her body, a hand reacing out to grasp her hip, to smooth over fabric pulled tight and squeeze her ass. "That's a sight you don't ever forget," he rumbles, fingers dipping wickedly lower to stroke between her thighs through her shorts.

Only once he's satisfied does he toss his belt aside and reach out to roughly tug her shorts and underwear down, trusting her to shimmy them off while he kicks off his pants.

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

Flora

The way his eyes rake over her steals the breath right out of her chest, heat flashing high in her cheeks and settling low between her legs. No one looks at her quite like Jack does—like she’s a thing worth having, a thing he already has, with approval, desire, and that particular glint of ownership braided together in the same gaze. It’s unhealthy to want it, she knows, but gods, it does something to her all the same.

She flashes him a grin over her shoulder, slow and shameless. "But you seem awfully keen to have a reminder," she says, letting the words purr in her throat. Then his fingers are between her thighs and she sucks in a sharp breath, teeth snapping around a moan that still hums against the back of her tongue. Her fingers twist into the sheets, needing something to grip as her knees nearly give at the simple, maddening press of him there.

When he tugs at her shorts and underwear, she lifts her hips without hesitation, spine curving as she shimmies them down, making no effort to hide the way she arches to give him more to see. The cool air kisses over bared skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat rolling off him, or the pulse between her thighs that’s only getting harder to ignore. "I swear to all the gods, if you make me wait—" Flora wasn't above begging of course, not when she'd likely get as much of a thrill out of saying the words as Jack would hearing them, but if his teasing persisted much longer he might actually find himself jailed for it.

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'

Code stolen from Queen Sky

JACK

Jack's laughter is a touch breathless as he gets himself out of his clothes, snagging at Flora's shorts to toss them to the side as well when he's done. "If I was gonna make you wait," he rumbles, shifting closer, his hands grazing across the perfect swell of her ass, "I'd only be frustratin' us both." It's not a reminder that he thinks she needs, especially as the tip of his cock nudges achingly against her.

Shifting onto the bed enough that he can press a knee against the inside of her thigh, encouraging her legs further apart for him, the captain wastes only a second more to enjoy the view before he enters her, tight and slow and deliberate. Keen for Flora to feel every inch of him inside her, and equally as ready to enjoy the way she takes it, Jack bites at the inside of his cheek to cage his groan of pleasure, inhaling a slow breath through his nose until he's pressed flush against her body, fingers gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.

"How do you want me?" he whispers at last, the words framed by a self-indulgent smile. Because he knows - gods, of course he knows - but this time he wants to hear it from her lips instead of her mind, to see thought and intention crash together into something entirely new.

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

Flora

It feels like her heartbeat might shake the Sugartide hard enough to have her moving in her berth, pounding hot and hard in time with the way Jack's fingers skim over the curve of her ass. The blunt, aching nudge of him against her makes her thighs fall open without hesitation, the anticipation spiking sharp in her belly. And when he finally pushes into her—slow, deliberate, filling—her gasp takes the shape of his name, a sound that’s as relieved as it is greedy, like she’s been waiting ever since the masquerade for this. One hand reaches back without thought, clutching at him with something between desperation and possession, holding him there as though she could keep him inside her by will alone.

When he asks—actually asks—how she wants him, it pulls a small, startled laugh from her, the kind that vibrates through her chest and into the air between them. She knows exactly what she wants, even as her knuckles loosen on the sheets. As much as his hands gripping her hips and thrusting into her drives her wild, there’s something more, something deeper.

She forces herself up onto her knees, calves on either side of his legs, keeping her back arched to keep him deliciously seated inside her. "I want you close," she murmurs, and the word is a pulse in her own ears, thick with heat. She draws one of his arms around and across her shoulders, the crook of his elbow settling snug against her throat, the weight of him there sending a shiver that blooms out through the whole garden of her mind—coral, crimson and deepest gold. The other she guides across the flat plane of her stomach, his palm warm and claiming against her skin. "I want to feel you all around me." To blot out every distraction in her mind as much as to chase away even the seabreeze so that it's only him in everything she can think and feel. "Only, you."

Her back arches further, her hips sliding forward and then rolling back, slow and deliberate, taking every inch of him as though she’s sinking deeper into both the motion and the man. The sensation steals the air from her lungs, the ache low in her belly curling sweet and sharp, and her thoughts flare molten with the satisfaction of having him exactly, perfectly, where she wants him.

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'

Code stolen from Queen Sky

JACK

Her laughter has his mouth kicking up in a smile, even if his concentration is understandably elsewhere at present. Hissing in a breath as Flora arches up, Jack's arms find their way around her with barely any prompting needed, clutching her back against his chest until she can feel the steady thunder of his heart and the warm rush of his breath on her neck. "Only a fool would say no to that," he half whispers, pressing a searing kiss to her throat - one that will leave a mark - before she shifts her hips back and Jack thrusts forward to meet her automatically, hard and deep.

Moaning his approval, he needs no further prompting; with his hand still pressed to her lower belly, he fucks her like she's something to possess and keep and claim. Not too quick, not yet, but with each driving slam of his cock enough to keep the pleasure just nipping at the heels of pain, to keep the chase of not enough edging towards too much.

"Like that?" he purrs against the shell of her ear, as if to hear her vocalise the things normally burning through her thoughts like wildfire is a new game to play.

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

Flora

Her lips part around a moan that doesn’t so much end as break and catch, breath hitching in time with the deep pull of him inside her. The sharp bite of his kiss blooms heat against her throat, and she’s grinning even as the flames in her thoughts flare higher, licking up through every corner until the garden of her mind is nothing but firelight and shadow.

One arm curls up and back, fingers threading into his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp to tangle herself deeper into his grip. The other drifts down her belly, glancing over the back of his hand before finding her clit, the touch intentionally light—just enough to tease, nowhere near enough to satisfy. "You’ll have to make it so I can’t help myself," she whispers, her voice curling warm against his ear. She circles again, too soft, the shivery, almost-weightless sensation pulling a gasp from her, her muscles wanting to tense under it, though she holds herself back.

The press of his lips against her ear draws a sly shake of her head. "More. I can still remember my name," she murmurs, "still remember where we are." The truth is almost irritating—her thoughts still flicker across the usual list of people, places, problems she has no interest in carrying here. And then, in the theatre of her mind, she burns them all away. The walls dissolve, the bed, the room—until there’s nothing left but the blur of his mouth at her ear, the matched drumbeat of their hearts, and the ricochet of his hips meeting hers.

Tilting her head back against his shoulder, she draws another slow, deliberate circle over her clit, voice catching on a moan. "Make it like that," she breathes. "Make it all go away except you."

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'

Code stolen from Queen Sky

JACK

Tilting his head automatically into the grip that plunges and tangles in his hair, Jack's laughter is soft and dark, his breath ghosting along Flora's throat, only for his breath to hitch with those sparks of pleasure that erupt with her fingers against her clit. Not enough, not by any margin, but the thrust of his hips grows a little harder, a little more reckless, as if in reward for it. "Anythin' for you, love," he purrs in response to her demands, his mind dancing with the flames she paints across his magic.

His grip tightens on her then, fingers gripping against her collarbones and her neck, palm pressed against her lower belly, and a rush of cool air tickles across her skin, between her thighs and against her breasts. Jack wraps himself in Flora's mind as well as her body, following the way her thoughts drift and move with every slam of his hips and nip of his teeth, mercilessly steering her back to him whenever it seems as if she's getting distracted.

Whether that's via a soft kiss or a spark of lightning is entirely dependent on Flora, but Jack is clearly not adverse to any method of keeping her focus exactly where it ought to be.

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

Flora

Every time her thoughts so much as lean away from him, Jack's there—the nip of his teeth, the crackle of his magic—yanking her focus back like he’s got both hands wound in the reins. It’s bliss, the way he strips every knot of tension from her mind, her body going loose and molten even as the pressure builds low and tight inside her.

Flora's head tips back onto his shoulder, a sound spilling from her lips that doesn’t know whether it’s a gasp or a moan. "Like that," she breathes, voice splintering, then again, more desperate, "Gods...like that." Her fingers move quicker over her clit, still maddeningly light, each pass setting off little firebursts that tear through her garden until the trellises and arches are dripping in gold, tangled with flame.

The coil in her belly winds tighter with every thrust, hips rolling back into him like her body is chasing something her mind can’t quite name yet. Her fingers tighten where they're fisted in his hair while his name falls out of her mouth in broken, breathless pieces.

"Don’t stop," she moans, louder now, a command more than a plea; one for the entire docks to hear given the volume. Her fingers claw deeper into his hair, dragging him closer as if she could fuse him into her. And then it hits; pleasure slamming through her so hard her breath catches. The garden of her mind bursting into full bloom and wildfire all at once as the world blurs and collapses down to him—his heat, his scent, the pounding rhythm of his hips against hers—until there’s nothing left but the shuddering waves wracking her body and his name spilling endlessly from her lips.

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'

Code stolen from Queen Sky

JACK

Jack chases her pleasure as if his own is a mere afterthought - and given the way every brush of his magic and every touch of his lips and hands sets the garden of her mind to unfurling, it's little wonder why. He can feel the thunder of his pulse as a distant roar, a vague sensation of breath and heat and muscle screaming for reprieve, but none of it matters as he senses Flora's mounting climax.

Clutching her close against him, the serenade of her voice carrying up the steps and much farther than the Sugar Tide alone, as she finally comes undone in his arms, Jack follows almost instantly. Biting back a curse that ends up escaping as a rough moan against her throat, the hand at her belly slips around to grip at her hip hard enough to leave fingerprint bruises in their wake, Jack nearly toppling them forward as bliss and relief saturate his every thought.

Around them his magic has blown a few trinkets off her shelves or moved keepsakes into new positions, and the waters outside the window might just have grown a little choppier, despite the ship being safely at port. As for Jack, he remembers to breathe a few seconds later, his forehead tilting to rest against Flora's shoulder, though his grip remains tight around 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

Flora

The final waves roll out of her in shivers, leaving her boneless in Jack's arms, her breath catching on the quiet, unsteady rhythm of coming back to herself. It’s almost startling how easy this is, and her mind can’t help drifting to how different it had been at the start. Back when she’d had to bait and dare him into bed with her, dressing the pursuit in theatrical airs. When he’d roll away immediately after, or keep her in his arms but make sure she knew it was only until he caught her breath, and to keep her mouth shut about it. All the fights and stumbles, the bruised egos and sharp words, had somehow sanded themselves into something that felt polished in certain places; if you didn’t look too closely at the rest.

Flora's knees are trembling in earnest now, threatening to give way beneath her despite his grip, and the quiver in her exhale betrays it. "Jack," she whispers, his name a warning even spoke through a breathless laugh. In the garden of her thoughts, the idea forms that she’s going to collapse lay down. He can come with her if he likes, pitch forward into the bed with her tangled against him, but the idea of holding herself upright, even wrapped tight in his arms, is already slipping out of reach.

When she finally lets herself sag forward, the plush spill of her bed swallows her whole. The scent of lilac and saltwater rises up from the pillows, cool air curling over sweat-warmed skin as she sinks into the softness with a sigh that’s half contentment, half surrender. Every muscle is loose, heavy, the kind of spent that makes her limbs feel like they’ve melted into the mattress. Her mind still hums with the echo of his hands and mouth and hips, satisfaction sprawling through her like a cat in a sunbeam. Whatever storms were outside, whatever noise waited beyond the Sugartide, for now she was nothing but satisfied and utterly, gloriously undone.

I trace the evidence, make it make some sense
why the wound is still bleedin'

Code stolen from Queen Sky