#writing!

He’s been your neighbor since he and Ellie moved to Jackson; the little yard shared between the backs of your houses a space where you slowly learned about the man and his girl that otherwise mostly kept to themselves. Conversations over garden work turned to nights over drinks; Ellie’s presence faded a bit as she made friends, leaving you and Joel alone under the stars more often than not.

Now, though, he sits across the room from you, eyes reflecting the little fairy lights strung overhead. His hair is longer than it had been when you met, despite his sister-in-law’s best attempts to convince him to let her cut it; his clothes fit a bit better now that he’s eating more regularly.

His gaze is trained on his daughter — not his by birth, he’d informed you one late night, but his daughter nonetheless — as she laughs and dances with Dina in the middle of the floor. “I think she’s in love,” he’d told you a few days earlier. “I hope she’ll tell me.”

“She will,” you’d replied. “At her own pace.”

You can empathize with Ellie.

Something drives you to stand up, to move across the room and drop a hand gently on Joel’s shoulder. “Hey.”

“Hiya,” he says, lifting his eyes from Ellie to you. There’s the ghost of a smile on his lips. (Ellie once told you you’re the only person she’s ever seen him smile at besides herself and Tommy. You feel blessed.) “Was wondering when you’d come say hi.”

“You could have done it,” you tease, your fingers playing at the collar of his jacket.

“Now where’s the fun in that?”

You grin brightly. “C’mon, Mr. Miller. I want to dance.”

Joel’s dark eyes narrow. “I don’t dance, honey.”

“I’ll show you how,” you reply. You’re not taking ‘no’ for an answer. You slip your hand down his arm a little and tug him upright. “Let’s go show Ellie and Dina how it’s done.”

He hesitates, but slowly, he follows you as you lead him out, your fingers around the meat of his palm. Ellie meets you, then looks at Joel, her own softer brown eyes shining.

They’ve been fighting more. You assume it’s the normal teenage thing; Ellie is sixteen now, making friends, falling in love, discovering herself — you remember what it was like with your own parents when you were her age.

But there’s still love in both of their faces, regardless of disagreements. It’s undeniable.

Joel nods, just slightly, to his daughter as Ellie does the same. They’re so alike, you think.

The music changes to something slower, easier, and Dina immediately wraps her arms around Ellie, who looks shocked for only a split second before easing right into it. There’s another glance at Joel, who finally offers a real smile, and they’re off, spinning into the night.

You slip your hands up and lock your wrists behind Joel’s neck as his broad hands fall to your waist. He doesn’t need any guidance, it turns out — he’s got an easy, natural rhythm and you keep in time with his movements without a thought.

“Feels weird being able to do this, doesn’t it?” you say softly.

Joel looks into your eyes. “A little.” He glances towards Ellie and Dina before meeting your gaze again. “I’m glad she gets to have it, though.”

“What about you?”

He shrugs, his fingers pressing a little harder into your body.

“I’m glad you get to have it,” you offer instead. “I think maybe… You need this kind of normalcy.”

“Don’t know if I deserve it, though.”

Joel’s always like this. Believes his past defines who he should be now; even though he’s never gone into too much detail, you’re willing to believe he didn’t do anything worse than most of the people living in Jackson now.

“We all deserve this, Joel.” You catch your fingers in the curls over his collar. “Even you.”

The music swells and in turn, he spins you slightly, making you giggle. For the moment, he’s completely focused on you — not Ellie and Dina, not Tommy and Maria who have joined in a few feet away.

Just you.

“You’re too kind to me, honey.”

You shake your head. “No, I think I’m just the right amount.”

Joel’s lips curve again, and he pulls you just a bit tighter against him. You take the opportunity and rest your cheek against his heart, listening to the strong, steady beat as he sways you around. You don’t miss the wink from Tommy as you pass by, or the way Ellie’s eyes shimmer as she swings past you.

You’ve always liked the Miller family, and it seems like the feeling is mutual.

You’re even more sure of it when Joel’s got you pressed against the front of his house, his lips on your throat and his hands under the hem of your shirt.

“Get a fuckin’ room!”

Ellie’s laugh echoes across the front yard as you feel your face get hot. Joel, on the other hand, simply laughs into your skin and his fingers press a little harder against your spine.

You’ve dressed carefully, simply, though you did wear a matching bra and panty set (that’s how they do it in the movies, isn’t it?) that you bought specifically for this evening. It’s white, it’s prettier than most of your underthings, and you have to admit — you like how you look in just them. Hopefully he’ll feel the same.

Dinner is lovely, a nice night at a quiet Asian place near Jack’s ranch. You eat light, but well, and Jack doesn’t miss the chance to playfully tease you that you seem to be storing energy with your choices.

Your wink back at him makes him bite the side of his lip.

The moon is barely up over the horizon when the two of you walk into his house and he pulls you into his arms, his mouth sliding over yours, moustache tickling the skin of your upper lip.

“You look so beautiful tonight, Moonbeam,” he murmurs, his hands settling at the curve of your hips as he holds you close. “Like a fuckin’ dream.”

His fingers are inching towards the roundness of your ass, and you close your eyes briefly as you pull your lips from his. “Jack, just a moment.”

He doesn’t let go, but his hands still and he leans back to look into your eyes. “Everything alright?”

You nod. “Yes.” Your voice is firm, and you’re proud of yourself for that. “I just need to talk to you for a moment.”

His eyes are soft, cautious. “What is it, darlin’?”

A deep breath, and then, “I’m a virgin.”

That blunt. That simple. You’re an adult — there’s no need to sugarcoat what is just a fact. You’re almost forty, and you’re a virgin. It just is.

You’re surprised when Jack’s face doesn’t change a smidge. “Okay,” he says, easy as your admission had been. “So we go slow.”

A smile flits over your face, and the hands clinging to his shoulders flex around them. “You’re not surprised?”

“Only because it’s you,” he replies. “You’re so beautiful I’d have guessed you had folks linin’ up at your door.”

You shrug. “The opportunity never really presented itself,” you explain. You’re somewhat shocked you’re being so casual about it — you’d expected everything to be a bit more awkward. It just makes you more sure this is the right thing. “But it feels like it is now, so I wanted you to know so you’re not…shocked by my inexperience.”

“Oh, Moonbeam.” Jack leans forward and kisses you, and it’s deep and passionate and full of emotion. “Everything you do shocks me, but only in the very best of ways.”

You slip one hand up along the line of his throat to catch his ear between your thumb and forefinger. “Jack, sweetheart,” you murmur. “Take me to bed.”

It’s a game of give and take as you fall onto Jack’s bed with him, hands roaming and mouths meshed. You’re currently sitting on his lap, kissing like the world will end if you stop. He seems to be leaving a lot up to you, letting you lead, though he’s very willing to be just the right amount of pushy with you.

You’re the one who goes for his shirt first, your fingers working at the buttons of the soft gray flannel, a little clumsy but for the most part successful as you continue to kiss him. He gives you a break, just a bit, dragging his lips down along the side of your jaw as you slip your hands under the material, over his white t-shirt, your palms pressing into the soft firmness of his belly and sides.

As you slide the overshirt off his shoulders, his hands find their way up your thighs, resting just under the hemline of your skirt, hot and rough against your skin. He doesn’t move, as if waiting for permission, and you inch forward on his legs, pushing his fingers further. You’re pressed up against him enough that you can feel him half-hard in his jeans, and in the back of your mind you think just how powerful that is, to know you’re doing that to him.

“Can I take your dress off?” he asks suddenly, the first time his mouth isn’t on your skin since you got to his bedroom.

You nod. “Please, Jack.”

He touches you like you’re made of porcelain and steel, his hands firm but gentle as he slips them up along your body, careful not to tickle, bunching the material up until it’s gathered at your shoulders and he can tug it over your head. With one swift movement, it joins his shirt on the floor beside the bed, and Jack’s eyes are all over you in its place.

“Christ, Moonbeam. Look at you.”

“Is that a good thing?” you ask, though his fingers pressing harder into the skin of your thighs answers that question before he can say a word.

“Better than good.” He lifts up and drags his mouth along your chin, his facial hair brushing your lower lip, the sensation absolutely wild. “You’re gorgeous.”

You grin. “Look who’s talkin’.” Twisting your fingers in the hem of his undershirt, you catch his eyes again. “My turn?”

“Anything you’d like, darlin’. I’m yours to do with as you will.”

The white tee joins the pile, followed in short order by his well-worn Wranglers.

When it’s just you and Jack, bare skin and thin undergarments, you take a moment, sit back against his knees. His full lips are even more swollen and pink from your kisses, his dark eyes blown with desire, his hair mussed from the shirt and your fingers. You reach out and trace a fingertip down along his chest, pausing just briefly on the larger freckles that dot his skin, down only as far as the top of his black boxers.

Meanwhile, Jack’s hands are mostly still, though the one holding you steady around your back is stroking the line of your spine just so. The sensation is damn near electric. He’s watching you as you touch him, a smile teasing at the corners of his mouth, and when your hand does stop, he looks up and holds your gaze.

“Here’s the big question, Moonbeam,” he says gently. “Who’s gettin’ naked first?”

You pause. It’s now or never, and every single nerve ending in your body is saying now. Without a word, you climb off his lap and — hands trembling just ever so slightly — you reach around to unhook your bra. It and your underwear fall away until you are fully exposed to another person for the first time in your life.

It feels…incredible.

Especially when Jack all but visibly melts at the sight of you. “I hope you don’t take this the wrong way,” he says, his voice smooth and easy, “but I might just be the luckiest man alive bein’ the first to see you like this.”

“Why would I take that wrong?” you ask, taking a tentative step closer to him and reaching out to brush your fingers over his cheek.

He shrugs slightly, pressing a kiss to the inside of your arm. “Because it feels just a bit like I’m lookin’ at you like a prize I’ve won.”

You smirk, closing the space between you and catching his lips in another searing kiss. “But Jack, you have.”

He takes initiative again, pulling you back down onto his lap, tight against his groin so you can feel him at the core of you. It’s a bit of a shock, but not an unwelcome one, as Jack kisses you across your lips and up to the shell of your ear. “I’m gonna lay you down now, okay?” When you nod, he nips at your jaw and flips you over easily, caging you between his arms. “If you need me to slow down or stop, you just say so. No questions asked.”

You lift your head to kiss him softly and smile. “I trust you, Jack.”

His smile warms every single part of you. Sitting up just for a moment, he reaches over to pull a couple of things out of his bedside table — a small blue bottle of lube, a foil packet with its unmistakable round content. The nerves kick in just a little, and it’s as if Jack can tell.

“It’s alright if we don’t use these today, Moonbeam. I just want to be prepared if you choose to.”

You nod carefully. “Do we…” It feels stupid. “Do we need a towel?”

Jack’s laugh is clear and happy. “No, darlin’. I don’t mind gettin’ a little messy.” He lifts your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. “You ready for me?”

“Absolutely,” you reply, and he stretches out over you again, his knees on either side of your thighs, his hands planted beside your shoulders.

He kisses you once again, dragging it out on your lower lip until you squeak in arousal. Then, he turns to his task.

Jack’s maneuvers are slow, meticulous. His lips line the column of your throat, down along your collarbone, and he starts off between your breasts, his tongue tracing a line down the center of your sternum before he slides one hand up to cup the roundness of you. “Remember,” he says, his breath ghosting over the moisture he’s left behind on your skin. “Use your words.”

“Go on, Jack,” you say, a bit breathless just from the thought of it. “I want — I want you to put your mouth on my tits.”

“Thatta girl.” You see that he’s grinning as he does what you ask, his tongue bringing your right nipple to full attention before he gently scrapes his teeth over it.

The stimulation goes right to your center, and you’re slightly embarrassed by the moisture you feel between your legs. If Jack notices, though — and he must, because his lower half, still clad in his boxers, is pressed against you — he doesn’t say a word. He keeps his focus, hand holding your breast steady as he works his mouth over it. It isn’t until you’re squirming and gasping that he finally lets you go with a pop…

…only to move onto your left side.

You have never once been this turned on in your entire life. Virginal or not, you’re not innocent — there have been videos and audios, books and stories. The little plastic toy in your nightstand has enjoyed many a night cupped in your palm and buried between your thighs. You know how to get yourself off, what fantasies work and what thoughts push you over the edge.

None of them, not a one, not even your best nights, match what Jack is doing with his mouth right now. And, you know for a fact, he’s barely even started.

Your whole chest feels like it’s on fire by the time Jack finally lets go of you, his mouth finding that place between your breasts again as he kisses the same line right back up. “How’re you doin’?”

“I’m… I’m good,” you stammer. “More than good.”

“Good,” he echoes. “Mind if I work a bit lower?”

You nibble at the plush of your lower lip. “Slowly,” you say quietly.

“Of course.”

He doesn’t lie. Sliding a little further down on the bed, he picks up where he left off, the base of that line of wet on your chest, and leaves featherlight kisses down along your belly. He takes a moment to dip his tongue into the fold of your navel, and you gasp, earning a raised eyebrow as he looks up at you.

“Don’t stop.”

Jack takes his time around the area of your stomach, alternating kisses and little nibbles on the skin there, his coverage widening until you feel the scratch of his moustache at the very top of your mound. This is where he finally stops again, lifting his head.

“I need you to promise me that you’ll talk to me now,” he says, and his tone is serious. “I’m going to use my mouth on you. My fingers, too, if you’d like that. But if you need me to stop…”

“I know. I’ll use my words.” You reach down and brush his brown-black hair off his forehead. “Kiss me, Jack.”

The mattress shifts as Jack moves off it, getting to his knees between yours. He’s gentle as he uses his hands to push your legs open more, settling his body there to hold you open for him. He gazes up at you, the wrinkles around his eyes more pronounced as he smiles. “I’ve got you, Moonbeam,” he murmurs as his thumbs press little circles into the fronts of your thighs. “Just let go for me, okay?”

“Okay.”

Your gentleman cowboy lives up to that reputation as he lowers his head and presses a chain of kisses to the soft, unblemished skin of your inner thighs. When he meets the apex, he ghosts his lips over you and when you don’t flinch, he moves in a little harder.

His aquiline nose bumps against your clit, and that’s what causes you to jump. Before he can react, though, you speak up, your clear “I’m alright” paired with the fingers curled into his hair keeping him from pulling away and breaking the rhythm. At first, it’s just nose and breath, the combination enough to have you moaning lightly as you carefully rest the backs of your knees on his shoulders.

When he deigns it time to introduce his tongue, your mind shuts down and your body takes over. “Jack, yes,” you hear your own voice say, even though you don’t actually feel the words leaving your throat. He nuzzles a bit closer, nose against you as he slides his tongue inside your walls, his lips sealing tight around you.

For some reason, you’d expected this to be weird and uncomfortable. Maybe even moreso than actual penetration. And yet, as Jack’s tongue explores your folds, your entrance — it feels…blissful. He’s careful, gentle, slow, though his movements aren’t without purpose and you feel your legs start to quiver around him. In response, his hands slip to the outsides of your thighs, offering comfort and stability as he moves his mouth a bit faster.

“Jack, I’m…oh, fuck,” you gasp. You scramble a hand down to where one of his rests, shoving your fingers between his and holding tight. “Please, please don’t stop, I’m gonna come, oh, fuck, don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. Not when your heels buck against his back, nor when you feel your hips grind down so hard you’re sure you must be either suffocating or injuring him, nor when you cry out in ecstasy some combination of his name and every swear you’ve ever uttered. You feel the familiar but also new sensation of the orgasm within you — the fuzzy lightness in your head like the climb of a roller coaster, the sudden immeasurable distance between your brain and your body, the curl of your toes and the tension of your fingers wrapped in his. 

Before you’re fully down from your high, he’s back, belly pressed to yours as he licks up into your mouth. One thing you’re wholly unfamiliar with is the taste of yourself mixed with someone else’s, and right now, it’s like the richest honey you’ve ever eaten. You and Jack taste incredible together, and he seems to enjoy it too the way he’s drinking in your lips and tongue.

It’s only when your heart rate starts to even out that Jack breaks your kiss, his forehead pressed against yours, his eyes searching your face. “Are you okay, Moonbeam?”

You blame the hormones still raging through your body for the words that spill forth next. “I thought you were gonna use your fingers on me, cowboy?”

Jack’s right eyebrow arches straight up, and his lips follow suit. “You give a girl one orgasm…”

It isn’t long before his hand is snaking its way down your body, however, finding the wetness his mouth left behind. His fingers are broad — this isn’t a shock to you after this long — but you’re still a bit unprepared for the way it feels pressed against the nub of you. He goes back to kissing you, long and lingering, as he draws little circles around your clit. He changes pressure with each rotation, sometimes so hard you feel the tissue and muscle shift; sometimes so gentle you think maybe you’re imagining it. He recognizes your need rising again as your kisses get hungrier, and he breaks away from you, shifting a bit lower again so he has better leverage.

“I’m gonna use one finger first,” he explains gently, moving his thumb to take the place of his index finger. “Get you nice and wet for me, and then we can try another.”

You’re both grateful for the explanation and desperate for him to just shut up and do it. “Please,” is all you manage to say, and the smile is back as he seeks out your entrance again.

You’re still pretty slick from his mouth on you as well as the heat of the moment, so he slides right in to the first knuckle. Watching your eyes, he continues a bit further, and you feel the slight stretch as you adjust to him, keening just a bit when he hooks his finger a little and catches a spot inside you.

“Ohhhh.”

“You like that, darlin’?” He almost sounds like he’s teasing, but you know he isn’t. He drops another kiss on your arm. “I’m gonna go back down there, make it easier on both of us.”

“Easier”, you discover, means movement. Jack settles back on the floor, one of your knees over his shoulder again as he reintroduces his finger, this time slowly, lazily almost, pumping his hand in and out. The drag of his knuckles against you has you whimpering, and you’re just cognizant enough to make sure you pepper in a few “yes”es to be sure Jack knows you’re okay. 

“Gonna try a second finger, alright?” At your desperate nod, he trails his fingers between your folds, gathering moisture, before pressing his index finger back inside, followed by his middle one.

The pain is sharp, but completely fleeting — however, it seems like your reaction is enough to make Jack pause. “Alright, okay, I’m gonna try something different.” He kisses the bend of your knee and reaches for the lube, squeezing a bit over both of his fingers. “Tell me if this still hurts.”

The lube does help, and this time there’s no real pain at all. As both of Jack’s fingers fit within you, you let out a long sigh. “Oh, wow,” is all you can manage as he holds still, letting you adjust to the feeling. Jack chuckles a bit, wiggling his hand a little to encourage comfort, and you giggle. “Can you…move them?”

“You sure, darlin’? We can take our time, you know.”

You shake your head. “I’m ready.”

Jack kneels up and kisses your belly. “Okay, then.”

The room is mostly silent as Jack fingers you, only the sound of your heavy breathing and the soft, obscene squelch of your wetness and the lube as he rhythmically speeds up his movements. “Fucking hell, darlin’,” he mutters at one point. “Look at how good you take my fingers. Can’t wait to feel you around my cock.”

The words are enough to make you clench around him, and he grins, allowing his fingers to curve as he moves them faster. “Jack, Jesus,” you gasp.

“Gonna come again?” he asks, the tip of his middle finger catching a spot inside you that makes your whole body tingle. “That’s good, Moonbeam. That’s real good. Go on and let it happen.”

Jack’s honey-whiskey voice and his fingers are enough to send you right back over the edge again. Your back arches as he rests his free palm on your stomach, keeping you from hurting yourself as you ride out your pleasure.

He’s still curled inside you when you come down, and he speaks up softly. “Are you okay?”

You find your voice, in more ways than one. “Yes.” You lift your head, look down into his shining eyes. “Jack, I want you to fuck me.”

He looks only slightly surprised by your candor. “Are you sure you’re not too tired, darlin’? Like I said before, there ain’t no rush. We have all night. Or as long as you’d like.”

“I know,” you smile. “But I’m sure. I want this. I want you.”

He pulls away from you, discreetly wiping his fingers on his boxers as he stands and bends over you to kiss you hard. In response, you hook your fingers into his waistline and tug lightly. “I think, Mr. Daniels, you need to lose these before we continue.”

The tips of Jack’s ears go a little pink, but his moustache quirks as he wiggles his eyebrows. “You wanna see what you’re missin’, huh, Moonbeam?”

In response, you push up on your elbows, letting your knees fall open just a little. “I dunno, I just think since you’ve gotten so up close and personal with me, it’s only fair I see what we’re gonna be working with next.”

You swear you see ferality behind his pretty eyes, and he slips his hands under the material at his slender hips and pushes the cotton down.

You’ve seen naked men before. Okay, maybe not in person, but you know what everything looks like and generally how it all works.

You’re still very unprepared for Jack naked. 

Though he doesn’t have much hair on his chest at all, there is a long line of dark strands under his belly button that extends into a full — but neat — cluster of curls between his legs. His cock is thick, much thicker than the majority you’ve seen on screens before. At your eye’s gage, it’s long too, and his balls are heavy and broad beneath it.

There’s a tickling fear at the back of your head that his mouth and two fingers haven’t prepared you enough.

“Can I…?” You sit up, looking up into Jack’s face.

“Yeah, of course you can.”

You reach out and gingerly curl your fingers around him. The skin is silky and warm, the ridges and veins pronounced against your hand. You can almost feel him growing even harder at your touch, and instinctively, you pump your hand lightly back and forth.

Above you, Jack hisses through his teeth, and it makes you stop. “No, no, fucking Christ, darlin’, that feels good. You don’t have to stop.”

A thought hits you, and you feel the heat in your face as you lift your eyes again. “Jack, I don’t…” You breathe out. “I’m not sure I can…” Say it. “I can’t give you a blowjob.”

Jack’s hand slips under your chin. “I wasn’t expecting one. Tonight’s all about you, not me. And, for the record?” He smiles brightly. “You never have to do that for me if you don’t want to.”

You lean forward and press a kiss to his belly. “Thank you,” you whisper. You know that one day you’ll probably be able to — you really want to — but now…that’s the one thing you aren’t ready for yet. When you are, you’ll make sure it’s as special for Jack as tonight’s been for you.

Reaching around him, you grab the condom packet off his table. “Show me?” you ask, holding it up for him.

Jack’s patient, slow as he shows you how to unroll the rubber over him, making sure there’s enough space at the tip before he lets go and allows you to slide it over the remainder of his length. You can hear his breathing speed up as you move, careful to keep it smooth and even as you get to the end.

“Good girl,” he exhales, reaching for the lube again. “Hold out your hand.” You obey, and he squirts a bit into your palm. “Over me, and then use the excess on yourself just so we’re sure we’re ready.”

You coat all of him, maybe a little too thoroughly based on the groan he lets out, before leaning back a little and dropping your hand between your own legs.

“Are you sure you haven’t done this before?” he jokes, and you narrow your eyes at him. “Kidding, kidding. You’re just so fuckin’ sexy.”

“Come on, Jack,” you reply, just as playfully, as you lie back against the pillow.

He does exactly as you ask. Stretching himself over you, he pulls your lips against his, fingers sliding through your folds again and working you until you’re whining against his tongue. He breaks away only far enough to whisper against you, “I’ll go slow, I promise, but you can still say ‘stop’ if you need me to.”

“Jack,” you murmur back. “Please, I need to feel you.”

He smiles, presses a firm kiss to your lips, and rests on one elbow at your side. With his free hand, he grasps himself, offering a few pumps against his palm to prepare, and then carefully notches himself at your entrance. Catching your eyes again, he strokes the side of your face. “Take a breath, Moonbeam. You’re safe.”

As you breathe in, he breaches your walls.

He goes as slowly as he promised, an inch at a time. Your eyes hadn’t deceived you — his cock is much broader than even two of his fingers, but his due diligence worked. Between your own wetness and the lube, it makes his movements easier, and because he takes his time, your body welcomes him in with each little push.

You’re not sure how long it takes for him to bottom out, but suddenly you feel his hips lock into yours. The feeling of Jack between your legs, inside you, is foreign — you feel full, stuffed even, but it feels right. Natural. There’s no real pain like you’d been taught since adolescence. Even the slight pinch you’d felt with his fingers earlier didn’t return.

It’s…wonderful.

“How’re we doin’, darlin’?” Jack asks, his voice strained slightly as he runs his nose over your cheek. “We alright?”

“You…” You look up into Jack’s face, the hand not currently clinging to his back coming up to catch the side of his throat. “You feel amazing.”

The grin that crosses his lips now could light up the whole room. “Oh, I am just gettin’ started, Moonbeam.” He hitches his hips the tiniest of millimeters, and you gasp a little. “Remember, just breathe.”

Slowly, achingly slowly, Jack pulls back, and you feel the loss of him deep inside so acutely it feels like emptiness. He doesn’t leave you completely, though, and when he pushes back in, it’s just a little rougher.

“Oh,” you groan. “Oh, that’s…”

“Again?”

“Again.”

Each time Jack thrusts into you, it’s just a little harder. And each time he does it, your body seems to open up more. You’ve lost count of how many times he’s filled and left you before your only thought is to keep him close the whole time. You tighten the arm that’s around his back, your other hand falling to his hip and gripping so hard you’re sure your nails will leave little crescents in his skin.

“Jack, please,” you breathe unevenly. “Faster.”

“You sure?”

You nip at his earlobe. “Never been surer.”

He adjusts his position a little, and the shift hits that same spot inside that his fingers had earlier. You tremble in his arms, and apparently, that’s the right move, because he pushes up a little onto his palms and begins to fuck you harder. You’ve lost all sense of language, and all you can do is keep your fingers pressed into Jack’s skin as he buries his lips in the hollow of your shoulder so roughly you know you’re going to be bruised.

“Oh, god,” you groan as your third orgasm of the night begins to build inside you, this time deeper and heavier than any you’ve ever felt. “Jack, fucking hell, I’m so close already.”

“That’s alright,” he pants against you. “Don’t hold back, darlin’, don’t you dare.”

You hitch your knees up, your ankles twisting around Jack’s shins as you try your damnedest to pull him in deeper. He slows, just a bit, and you want to scream until you realize — it’s helping. The drag of him deep inside, the less demanding rhythm, the fact that he can lean down onto you again and press you into the mattress as he pulls your release from you — it’s all working like a fucking charm.

He kisses you deep and hard as if he knew you were right there, and with one sharp thrust you cry out into his mouth. Behind your closed eyelids, there’s a myriad of colors and sparks, your brain whirling with every thought you’ve ever had and no thoughts at all. You wrap your arms around him so tight they hurt, you roll your hips to extend the feeling, and when he swears and pistons into you fast a few more times, you realize it wasn’t just you who was right there.

You’re not sure how much time has passed, but after a while, Jack slips out of you and carefully peels away the condom, dropping it into the garbage can tucked away under his nightstand. “C’mon, Moonbeam,” he says softly. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You’re not quite sure how your legs are still functioning given you can feel the strain and stretch in them and between them, but you manage to get out of bed and follow Jack to the bathroom. You watch as he turns on the tap, adjusting the temperature until he deems it right, then dumps in a bit of bubbly soap.

“What?” he asks with a cheesy grin. “A man can’t enjoy a bubble bath from time to time?” You only smile in response, your brain still feeling a bit mushy. “There’s a clean washcloth on the towel rack. Go on and clean up a little and then you can sit in the bath.”

“Why?”

Another grin. “One, to get all that residue off you. We definitely did make a bit of a mess out there, Moonbeam.” He reaches over and pinches your ass affectionately. “But also, because you’re bound to be a bit sore and the hot water will help.”

You know he’s right. You do your best to clean yourself up with the cloth, trying to hide the wince that comes when you brush the space between your thighs. Jack starts forward, and you shake your head. “No, no, it’s okay. Sore, not hurt.”

There’s concern in his dark eyes, but he nods. “Bath’s ready. Get on in, it’ll help, I promise.”

When you’re settled under the bubbles, Jack tucks a folded towel behind your head. “Relax. I’ll go make us something to eat, get your energy back.” He presses a kiss to your forehead, his index finger brushing a spot on your neck that makes you squint. “I marked you good and well, darlin’. Sorry about that.”

He moves away from you to the sink to run another cloth over himself before slipping into a pair of sweatpants. Just before he snaps them into place over his hips, you notice the very clear set of fingernail marks left at the curve of his ass.

“Mm. Looks like I marked you too, Jack,” you murmur.

He looks over his shoulder at you and winks.