#ror jack

How it starts…

Kissing Jack was no small feat, you see for Jack quite the private man. Even after being with you for x years/months, he was never the type to approach you with impure or lewd intentions. Of course, he enjoys such things as sex, cuddling and even kissing when it comes to you!

However, if you wait for him to make the first move, you'll be waiting until he can gather the courage to be so forward with you like that (no matter the number of times he's seen you naked before.)

So, it's later in the day when you finally approach him that your barely contained desire flickers in your gaze and he puts down the book he was reading. Mistaking your heated gaze as anger, confused, he'll cock a brow - mouth flying open to ask you something but your fingers on his chin put an end to those thoughts. The words dying on his lips.

Jack: "...Did I do something? You’re looking at me like-" Your fingers tilt his chin up. His breath stutters. Jack: "Oh." His cheeks flush all the way to the tips of his ears. Jack: "You- you want to… now?" He swallows. Jack: "I… I wasn’t expecting… but I’m not complaining."

Just as he'll go to rise to his feet, your hands will push him back down onto the chair, he'll huff out of confusion and mild frustration. Any protests die on his lips as soon as he's graced with yours, he hums delighted by the change in pace.

His hands hover uselessly in the air like he's afraid to touch you without permission. But instinct wins, and they settle on your waist, trembling. He hums against your mouth, the sound soft, needy, like he’s been starving for affection and finally got a taste.

When you pull back an inch, he chases after your lips without thinking—eyes half-lidded, breath shaky. Jack: "…Don't- don't stop. Please." His voice is barely more than a whisper, raw around the edges, as if just one kiss cracked something open in him, he didn't know how to hide anymore. Jack: "You have no idea how long I've wanted you to kiss me like that." His fingers curl a little tighter at your hips, grounding himself, terrified you'll pull away but desperate for you to stay close. Jack: "Just… stay right here."

And if you manage to get that blasted hat off his head, and grab a fistful of those silver locks only to gently crane his neck back, exposing the soft flesh for the taking? May the gods above bless your wicked soul...

Jack: "A-ah- wait-" Not really a protest. More like his brain short-circuited. You fist his hair gently, guiding his head back until his throat is bared to you. His breath hitches so sharply it's painful. His hands clutch at your thighs as if he needs something, anything, to hold onto. Jack: "…what… what are you doing to me?" His voice is wrecked-thin, needy, trembling. Touch starved down to the marrow. Your lips ghost along the exposed line of his throat and his knees actually fall open a little, involuntarily. Jack: "Please… gentle-" He swallows hard. Jack: "Or- or not… I don’t- I just…" You feel his pulse racing under your mouth, his fingers tightening as though he might float away if he doesn’t anchor himself to you.