[Training] twice, just to be sure

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One day perhaps there will be more meat on Flora's bones (read: STR), but for now she's like moving a vaguely weighted pillow, especially with how pliable she is in Jack's arms. Heat and a bolt of ruby shoot through her to feel his hands against her skin, and gods if it doesn't feel empowering to be grabbed somewhere she knows absolutely meets the standards she holds herself too.

Perched astride him, Florar peers down between curtains of her hair. Revolving her hips slowly against him (her mind loosely equating it with the sea, and the Ark, as if mimicking the sea with which Jack is so familiar will somehow turn him on more), she raises an eyebrow as she takes up the position he'd been in before, with one arm braced behind his head to hold her aloft, but close. His words are like bolts of adrenaline that pierce her feet before ricocheting upwards. Gods it's so hot to hear someone talk like that, but...but she couldn't. Right? Not in front of him? Not...well, she couldn't do them both, so..

Trickling her other hand down between their bodies, though the back of her hand did inadvertently send shivers of anticipation coursing up her belly, her fingers were focused on fumbling open and off Jack's belt. "Look at me in the eyes and tell me I won't need two hands for you." Flora counters against his lips.

full speed ahead 'til I'm dead in the fast lane

Not bad, Jack would say if he were able to offer commentary on her thoughts of the sea and the Ark; as it is, he's leaning more into this pleasing-you-pleases-me kink that Flora is unlocking, his hips rising to meet hers at every opportunity, lips parting to offer breathless, silent praise. The hand against her ass glides further beneath her silk slip given the opportunity, hugging the warm curves of her skin and eventually cupping one of her breasts, his thumb grazing across her nipple.

She absolutely could, and especially right in front of him, but sure, he gets her point, the captain huffing out a laugh at her remark. "Fuck around and find out," he advises, lifting his hips and hissing in a breath to better aid the removal of his belt. "But if you don't touch yourself I'll do it for you."

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Jack's fingers were rough and soft in all the right ways, and as his thumb grazed against her nipple she felt the muscle in her arm give out of its own accord to better press her breast into his palm. Lifting her hips up with his while trying not to fumble too much, it eventually became painfully clear to Flora that she couldn't brace herself above Jack, take off his belt and pants, ensure her body was positioned perfectly to avoid any fat rolls from developing, continue to make out with him, and remember to breathe. All of that combined with his threat words meant there was only one thing to do.

Slinking her way down his torso, her back arched almost painfully so that he'd have a full view of her ass as she descended, Flora realized how easy it was to ignore discomfort if you thought it made you look desirable. And just now with both hands set to the task of sliding Jack's belt off and his pants down, her cleavage emphasized from being pressed against his thighs and her ass high in the air, gods she certainly felt desirable.

"So bossy, Jack." She whispered, her nerves sufficiently doused by adrenaline and arousal that as she wrapped her slender fingers around the base of his cock Flora felt a flare of excitement so bright and pure that she felt like laughing. Instead, she did the thing she thought you were meant to do, namely, make eye contact while slowly swirling your tongue around the top.

full speed ahead 'til I'm dead in the fast lane

"Dunno what you expected from a captain," Jack rumbles against her lips, the flare of pleasure as she presses against his hand enough to almost drown out all the other pestering, insecure thoughts. It's why he concentrates more on feel than he has done in a very long while as she descends the length of his body, smouldering blues obediently taking in the curves on show (and the things he'd do given the opportunity, with that ass presented at him).

His eyes slip shut as her fingers grasp the base of his cock, and it has almost everything to do with what's going on in her head instead of his own (you know which one). Even so, he does give her the courtesty of eye contact - and gods she is a pretty sight with her tongue wrapped around his cock, even he can't deny that - running his tongue across his teeth and tilting his hips forward a little as if encouraging her on.

"More," he purrs.

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This she can do, new as it is to her, and though there is a running checklist in her mind to potentially distract Jack (no teeth, remember to breathe, don't gag (unless he likes it?), curl your toes as a distraction and if your leg cramps because of it, all the better), but it's this neurotic desire to please that has each and every instantiation of approval on his part that has heat pulsing between her legs.

Using both hands to twist up and down, her lips and tongue chase her own fingers as she lets her eyes slip closed to better concentrate. At first, the few moans she throws in are entirely theatrical, though quickly she finds soft hums of pleasure interspersed with her more dramatic affirmations as she imagines him roughly stopping her only to tear off her clothes and have her. That or you know, him moaning how she was the best he'd ever had, and how badly he wanted her, and yadda yadda. It was hard to be anything more than mentally vanilla when you were doing everything you could not to choke.

full speed ahead 'til I'm dead in the fast lane

Well, even mentally vanilla thoughts are enough to pleasure the good captain, as long as they're enough to also keep the fire kindled between Flora's legs. Vanilla isn't his usual flavour, granted, but given the company Jack keeps, that isn't all too surprising, and fuck, maybe a change of pace will be nice. His moans, too, start off as purely theatrical (the irony of these two idiots), until he feels a subtle shift from imagined pleasure to real, and his telepathy greedily does the rest.

Fingers twist through her hair, and he doesn't force her head down - yet - only because fuck knows if she likes it, and they're just getting started for it to go tits up. "Fuck, Flora," he croons as the actions of her mouth and hands begin to find their rhythm. "Like that, don't you fuckin' stop. Not unless you want me to fuck you--"

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She would like it, and Jack will feel her mind soften and ripen at his hands in her hair, only she hasn't quite figured out deep-throating and just now watery eyes from not being able to breathe would ruin her mascara.

Hearing her name like that had Flora inadvertently squeezing her thighs together. Gods she did want him to fuck her, she really, really did, but should she? Was there some victory to be had in making him cum like this? But what if she never got another chance? What if this was it, and -- Not unless you want me to fuck you. The echo of his words made her need suddenly explosive, and it was with a movement that seemed almost practiced that Flora sat up and tugged her shift over her head in one easy motion. Still wearing her underwear (which could easily be pushed aside), Flora edged herself hastily up his body and before she could lose her nerve.

Her arousal felt like pins and needles on the inside of her lungs and thighs, flaring with something like recklessness instead of pain with each and every breath. Reaching for one of his hands so that she might not feel so alone in her near nakedness, she'd try and place it against her breast while trying to hide what shallow breathes she was taking.

full speed ahead 'til I'm dead in the fast lane

Her arousal is almost enough to make him cum, ironically, and as it explodes behind his eyes and he feels the phantom sensations chase down his body, Jack is well on his way to shoving her head down onto his cock. But Flora is sitting up, and let it not be said lightly that the captain does not often find himself in this position. Breath stuttering in his chest, he barely has the sense to appreciate the great set of tits on display, his hand gladly moving to appreciate her curves in more detail.

"You don't have to tell me twice," he growls, a wolfish smile threatening on his lips before he leans in to steal the taste of himself from her own, Jack reaching out with his free hand to shift her underwear to one side.

And here is where one might be surprised, because of course he knows she hasn't done this before, and it's a very difficult thing to have a good first time, even with a mind reader. So, at the risk of ruining it for both of them (and he's in way too deep to go back now), Jack presses against her, but no further.

"Go on," he mumbles against her lips. "Show me you want it."

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Moaning needily against Jack's lips if only because of the familiarity of it (funny that, given how new it had been just a week or so ago), Flora presses herself down against his hand and his mouth, eyes closed and waiting for him to do it. To take her, to have her, to push them across this portion of the finish line, only he doesn't.

Breathing shakily against his lips, glad for the curtains of hair framing either side of her face and partially hiding her, Flora moves her hips experimentally against his cock. Gods if she isn't wet enough to make this as easy as it could be, but hadn't she heard how much it could hurt? And though she hadn't seen a large array of penises, she knew enough to know that Jack wasn't exactly small, but...oh, she did want it. Right now, right here, and just like this.

Stealing whatever courage she could find from his lips, Flora sits up. Reaching again for one of his hands, this time she tangles her fingers through his for support wondering desperately if he knew what her hesitation meant, and whether he cared. Lowering her hips an inch or so until she felt some faraway sense of resistance, Flora took her bottom lip between her teeth as she curled her legs beneath Jack's and forced him through the delicate barrier of her virginity.

The pain was like a pie: a thin mantle that was hard and bright, followed by a nebulous warmth that stretched and burned. However as Flora's hips lowered and Jack entered her fully, the pain was chased away by a delicious sense of fulfillment that drowned everything else out. The tautness of Flora's expression melted into exquisite and unexpected agony, and it was with a breathless sort of laugh that she released Jack's fingers that he might grasp her fully with both hands now that his support was no longer needed.

full speed ahead 'til I'm dead in the fast lane

He does know and he does care, though not nearly for the reasons Flora might make up expect. Hissing in a breath through his teeth as she sinks down onto him, it's only as her fingers release him that he lets himself twine properly with her thoughts. Her expression resembles, now, that familiar, stretching, wondrous kind of pain that comes with wanting to scratch an itch you can't quite get at, and he's pretty certain he can help.

"You're so fucking tight," he growls, his lips lingering just next to her ear, even as his hips start to move. Every spark of pleasure and pain is enough to rile him up such that it's a balancing act, for the first time in a long time, between letting Flora figure out her own ecstasy without fully giving in to his own, and later, Jack won't be able to figure out if he enjoyed the torture or not.

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It absolutely does feel like an itch she can't scratch, and though she's never done this before, something deep within the core of who she is, reassures her that if they keep going like this, it'll get scratched alright.

"You like it," Flora declares triumphantly with a small snap of her teeth before the smile in her voice melts into a moan whose rhythm is punctuated by the thrust of Jack's hips. "gods, Jack.." She pants, half drowned in pleasure but held buoyant by the realization that they were doing this. After all of her pining and fantasizing, gods here they were.

In her minds-eye she could see them as clear as if the walls were made of mirrors; she with her lean tanned body, he with his rough hands over her. Having let him do the work at first so she could come to her senses, now that things were somewhat predictable Flora found herself shifting her hips and lower back to either aid or hinder Jack's movements in varying amounts.

full speed ahead 'til I'm dead in the fast lane

"How could I not when you're so good at it?" Jack hisses into her ear, and in the moment even the captain can't say how much of it, if any, is a lie. Of course he's said it to spur Flora on, but that in itself just makes things better for everyone. So as she becomes an active participant in events, Jack surrenders to the roll of her hips and the soft feel of her skin beneath his hands.

His lips press against the side of her neck, even as his grip around her grows tighter, his thrusts become a little wilder, and he'll leave a number of souvenirs against her throat by the time they're done. In the meantime, though, one of his hands seeks out her own, pressing it between her legs as if to remind her that there's more pleasure yet to be had.

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Flora, who hasn't once skipped leg day, is able to call on muscles she hadn't even known she'd been training for just this moment. Even the burn from those parts of her body which were unprepared for this type of workout felt good, and the light sheen of sweat spreading across her back only made Flora feel more beautiful for the effort.

Jack's reminder is met with some resistance; he should just be able to make her cum, right? Having rapidly aged up, there had been no one around to explain the intricacies of sex, so Flora had been left with the very unhelpful notion that sex alone should be enough to make her finish. Realizing that this must just be Jack's thing, Flora mimed pressing her hand between her legs while trying to divert his attention by pressing her lips against his and rocking her hips forward.

full speed ahead 'til I'm dead in the fast lane

Rolling one's eyes during sex tends to be quite a turn off for most people, and luckily Jack's mouth is pressed to Flora's neck, so his frustration is out of her sight - probably. But gods if this isn't going to go down in his memory as one of the hardest earned orgasms in his life (no pun intended this time), and as she mimes getting herself off (who the fuck would even), he fumbles to swat her hand out of the way.

"Let me," he rumbles, leaving a mark against her throat even as his fingers seek out her clit, rolling against it in a slow dance that comes completely at odds with the rhythm they've set. One that will rapidly start to unravel, if Flora is finally able to give in to herself.