[ He doesn't need to be told twice - in practically one motion, Charles gets Jack's pants down his hips and then drags them all the way off, immediately diving in for another greedy kiss before Jack can fix the deliciously erotic splay of his legs. The next part is rather graceless as he twists until he can kick his own pants off the bed, but that's only because he can't stop tasting Jack to do it, those increasingly biting kisses working down his neck to his chest. ]
Spread your legs.
[ Charles sweeps his stolen necklaces aside for the bites that cross the other's chest and find a nipple, working it with his tongue before another, quick little bite follows. He grabs the bottle of lube, and starts to twist it open, but manages to get himself fully distracted by how much he wants to kiss Jack again. So he does, fitting his hips between the other man's thighs and grinding down, their cocks trapped against each other.
This must be the fastest he's ever managed to develop an addiction. He's addicted to being allowed to do this. Charles grinds harder against Jack, one hand sliding up to his throat as he coaxes his tongue into his mouth, and he gets that hand all the way into Jack's hair before summoning the strength to rip his mouth away with an actual snarl. ]
[ Charles Vane's appeal has never been his grace, after all. The fact that he's managed to kiss him so long without it moving elsewhere is a minor miracle enough, and Jack's so beyond ready for more that it's good he's laying down, how fast his head is spinning. He spreads to make room for the other immediately, clutching at him and rolling his hips up to grind against him, desperate for a little relief, a little more contact.
Pressing his kiss-swollen lips together, he tries to swallow a moan as Charles' mouth trails lower, and the hand at his throat makes him shiver, but that only makes it sound fucking needier, more guttural in a way that vibrates through him deeper than anything, more consuming than the shallow panting up until now. This man, his friend, his captain, his confidant, is striking hot at the core of him, and he's asking what Jack has done to him? ]
I thought it was just me, losing --mmgh-- losing my fucking head.
[ Jack reaches for his face, caressing his cheek while he takes the time to catch his breath. It's not so overwhelming, anymore, looking into Charles' eyes while they're entangled like this. It feels warm, instead of dangerous. Almost natural. ]
[ That touch sends a shiver down his back, and it's almost more than he can stand. Charles turns his face to chase that hand with a kiss, nipping the inside of Jack's wrist with a hungry sound.
Exactly. Losing his fucking head. Not just because he wants Jack so much, but because Jack wanting him feels so fucking good.
Finally he manages to pull enough focus together to get the lube open, and he slicks up his fingers before shoving it aside. Charles sinks lower down Jack's body, dragging the hard, hot line of Jack's cock against the muscles of his stomach, pressing his own dick into the bed with a groan. It's a little messy, hooking his arm around the other's thigh to get beneath him, but Charles hikes Jack's hips up from the bed for the room to press a finger inside him. Each knuckle comes with a biting kiss to the chest, one tasting the little fox tattoo.
But now, he thinks, with the finger all the way in, already working against tight muscle, curving inside for the sweet spot, he wants to see exactly how good Jack looks. So he pushes himself up just enough, lifting those hips up higher too, to make it absolutely fucking clear that he doesn't want to miss this now. ]
[ Jack greets his finger with a gasp, having to shut his eyes for just a moment to remind himself to relax. That too, is easier this time, with the things being left unsaid that made things so tense and unsettling, now being...well, not really said, because they couldn't keep their hands off each other long enough, but Charles speaks through action, and he can hear him loud and clear.
He hooks his ankles around Charles, making sure he can keep himself elevated where he needs to be, but even more desperate for another point of contact. He pulls him in as close as he can, grabbing at his shoulders as his mouth works lower and his stubble scrapes at his sides, greedily taking everything the other can give until he raises himself up and away to look down at him. ]
That so? [ He opens his mouth to continue, but he's cut off by a jolt of pleasure, as Charles finds what he's looking for inside him, a sweet spot that pulls a feral noise out of him, half gasp and half growl. Jack looks up at him, his eyes pure, molten desire, mouth hanging slightly open as he asks for more. ] Like what?
[ Good. That's the spot he wants, because he wants Jack more than ready for him. Charles isn't going to wait a second longer than he has to, but he wants Jack to be as wound up for it as he is. ]
Naked. Messy. [ His voice isn't quite a whisper, but the growl is low, as though it's just between the two of them. He tilts his head this way, admiring Jack beneath him, and the other. ] Flushed all over.
[ A second finger presses into Jack's tight hole, both of them working over that spot, dedicated and relentless. Charles stares down at him, and then ducks in again for another hungry kiss, because that's what an addiction fucking means. Too long without a taste and he just can't help himself. ]
You look like you need to be fucked properly. I'm ready to oblige. [ His teeth catch on the edge of the other's jaw, but the kiss that Charles places there is uncharacteristically gentle. Almost pleading. ] Say it.
[ It does something to him he can't explain, Charles looking at him like that. There's an attraction that goes deeper than just blowing off steam, that Jack is just realizing now, among the breathless kisses and sentimental confessions. It's a lot to take in, and he's not trying to question it, but he wants to hear it, swim in his rough, gravelly voice and let it shoot straight to his cock.
It helps, having that filth growled into his ear, while he's taking the second finger. It gives him something to focus on besides the ache of getting stretched out like that. Even that ache is fading quickly, as Charles works him over so ruthlessly that he can't keep his head on straight enough to kiss him back properly. Jack groans into his mouth and slings his arms around his shoulders, nails digging crescents into him as his cock twitches with the demand.
He doesn't hesitate for a second to give in. ]
I do. I've been fucking craving it, please, Charles, fuck me, now.
[ Definitely pleading, breathlessly, and shamelessly. That Jack can trust him enough to expose himself like this says more than comparing him to anyone on that list ever could. ]
[ The sound that Charles makes upon hearing that is purely feral. But Jack's willing vulnerability is rewarded, with prompt and earnest obedience.
With his mouth at Jack's throat, Charles pulls his fingers out, nudging the other's hips just enough to let him his cock and guide it, because the first thrust is hard and deep, opening Jack up and filling him in one shot. Another guttural growl, and Charles draws back to thrust in again, just as hard. Then again, and then he's fucking Jack for real, gasping as sheer want sends a thrill up and down his back.
Now he can bury a hand in Jack's hair, and pull his head back for the space to work hungry kisses over his throat, because Charles can't get enough of the taste of him but he can't catch his breath for another kiss. Never in his life has he taken a prize that felt so well-earned as this and he's drunk on it, on his own claim to a want so deeply rooted in him that it grew even when he refused to tend it.
He knows exactly what this is, because he's drowned like this before, but only Jack has made him feel like he wasn't drowning in it alone. ]
[ Every rough touch, every brush of lips, every little nip against Jack's throat makes his spine tingle from head to tail. Such a delicate, vulnerable spot, but he tips his head back and makes it even easier, for Charles to overwhelm all of him, any piece he wants. He could tear him apart, if he had a mind to, and right now Jack would be helpless against it. He'd invite it, if it meant one more moment of Charles looking at him like that, seeing someone worth that kind of reckless passion.
From the first thrust, Charles fucks a sound out of him that comes from the chest, and bubbles up through his throat, a moan that wrecks through him like a sob. It feels so fucking good, and Jack thought he'd known bliss after the first couple times, but this is something else completely, not just the satisfying sensation of being filled up and fucked. It's a breakthrough on other levels, an overdue acknowledgement of something he's long denied (they've long denied) that twists him up in a different way from before.
Now he's twisted around Charles, emotionally and physically, rocking his hips with him and doing something which is so rare for him, not putting a single thought into what comes next, and simply enjoying what's right now. It feels so greedy, enjoying the feeling of being taken like this, but getting to hold him so close and watch while he does it is a pleasure Jack's not properly had, and he's going to indulge. ]
[ There isn't a single damn thought in his head anymore that isn't pleasure and want. Nothing about what it took to get them here, or what comes next, all the unnecessary (and necessary) pain and suffering, the wrong paths followed too far, the two of them parting ways for pride and false protection only to be inevitably pulled back together, because he's held onto so few things in his life that were really worth the future and Jack is one of them. He thought it was Eleanor, he thought it was the gold, the Man o' War, but in the end they were nothing more than prizes to be admired for a time and then lost again.
He couldn't give up his home, and he couldn't give up Jack. There was meaning in those things that he didn't believe really existed until he was threatened with truly losing them, and found his own life didn't nearly measure up in exchange. And every time he hears Jack's name mentioned with recognition by people born hundreds of years after the death of everyone he's ever known, it tells him that no matter how ugly it had to be - still will be - in that crucial moment, he made the right choice.
Thoughts for later, surely. Possibly. Jack has his full attention now, everything in the world narrowed down to him, as Charles fucks him with deep thrusts and a relentless pace, gasping against his throat. Fingers scrape the back of Jack's head before tightening again into a fistful of his hair, and Charles lifts his head, just a little, enough for his guttural moans to tingle over the other's cheek, for their heads to touch. He can barely breathe, but he can't stop fucking him, every roll of his hips bringing them closer. ]
[ It's a raspy whisper, his voice going hoarse from all the mouth-open, heavy breathing the other man is forcing out of him. The pace is too ruthless for him to catch his breath, and yet it still feels more intimate than it ever has before, like they're sharing a single breath, gasping it up and huffing back into the other's skin to absorb because they can't break this closeness long enough for anything else.
Jack leans his cheek against Charles' head and tangles his own hand in his hair in turn, the motion of their bodies making it as if he's nuzzling him like a dog. He likes this kind of closeness more than he'd let on until he actually has it, so now that his arms are around him, pulling him into his body, it's easy to become enamored with it. The rub of his dick against Charles' abs, the tingling breath on his face, the sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, the delicious drag of the other's cock against the spot inside him that makes his breath catch and his toes curl.
It's too good. Too fucking perfect, a phrase he'd clearly been too liberal with in the past, since it's only gotten better. ]
[ Hearing his name on Jack's lips with that rough quiver of pleasure in it goes straight to his cock like a lightning bolt. Air or no air, Charles surges up to kiss him so he can taste the way his voice sounds right now, the next deep thrust jerking them both a little higher up the bed.
He drops one arm to hook under Jack's thigh and tilt him back, changing the angle just enough to fuck deeper into him, faster, filling him up so that every thrust of Charles' cock works over the sweet spot inside him. Charles moans into the kiss, shameless and breathless, doing his level fucking best to kiss Jack and fuck him at the same time, even as the pleasure starts to overwhelm his capacity for both.
God, he could come soon, but he doesn't want to. It feels too fucking good, the way Jack takes everything he gives and still pulls him closer, like it's not enough. They haven't even put words to any of this yet. It just... is.
Fingers scrape the back of Jack's head, until finally he has to push himself up, keeping Jack's thigh hooked over his arm, fucking him like he wants to break the bed in half right under them. But Charles doesn't tear his eyes away, even half-feral with naked want and something a lot deeper: whatever happens next, he doesn't want either of them to think he didn't know exactly what he was doing. ]
[ Jack won't be able to hold out much longer, but he's got a feeling that won't matter. This won't be like the last time, finishing up and going their separate ways in a huff of confusion. There's space for this to linger, to cool down and fire back up again, there's too much fucking passion in the way Charles moans into his mouth for him to even consider letting this man out of his sight for the foreseeable future.
And that's enough. The wet, progressively sloppy kisses and the possessive tugs at his scalp are great, but that's what really sends him over the edge, the knowledge that Charles isn't going anywhere. That he has him, in some way that remains undefined, but is no less powerful for it. It makes him feel so damn fragile, and simultaneously secure, in this, if nothing else.
The way he's feeling, the way Charles is pounding into him, it only takes a moment of reaching between them to touch his cock for him to come, coiling and clenching with pleasure. ]
Keep going.
[ He has to choke out the demand, but Jack resists the easy temptation to squeeze his eyes shut as he's fucked through it, instead watching his lover (there's a word for it. it doesn't seem enough.) watch him shudder and shake because of him. It's not a necessary order, he knows Charles won't dare do anything but keep this up until he can't any longer. ]
[ Charles doesn't think he could stop now even if someone burst in through the door and shot him. He'd finish fucking Jack, then kill them, and then make sure the door is shut and locked before coming back just to fuck Jack some more.
Good thing he doesn't have to stop. He nearly comes just from watching Jack go over that edge, but it's still too good to give up - he wants to ride out every last tremor as Jack's body trembles underneath his own. And then he wants to do the same thing over and over again, because the dam is broken and there's no holding back the flood.
God, this feels so fucking good.
It's different though, the urgency of it, not like the other times that lasted only as long as the moment and then became something that never happened. Things are different this time, it's so clear to him already. Maybe that's what makes it so hard to hold off on coming, still fucking Jack hard and deep with a bruising grip on his thigh - or maybe it's just the way Jack is looking at him, his eyes blown wide with pleasure. Doesn't seem real.
His groans grow louder, hungrier, until he stuffs his cock into Jack for the rush, coming deep like he's leaving a mark. The sound that comes out of him is shaken. ]
[ Charles fucking him through it makes his mind go blank. There's nothing left, no overthinking, no thinking at all. Just pleasure, and Charles, and fuck fuck fuck and the shaky, foreign noise that comes out of the other's mouth when he comes, the degenerate satisfaction of knowing he's spilled as deep inside him as he can...purely animal instinct shit, nothing else.
Jack grips him close, tensing his thighs around him so he can't even pull out without breaking free of him. He can't imagine wanting to do anything else right now but this (except, perhaps, telling Anne so she can get off his case about it), but maybe it'll send Charles into another brawling meltdown. Hard to tell, and even after laying there for a moment, his brain hasn't rebooted to its full function yet. So he keeps clinging, panting into his hair, slowly relaxing under his weight like a blanket, and eventually, when he feels he can speak, he presses a kiss to the top of his lover's head. ]
...Charles. Stay for a while, won't you?
[ Not on top of him, necessarily. But he doesn't mind that, either. ]
He sinks into Jack just to catch his breath, amazed at the strength of the tremors still coursing through him. If there was a moment for that violent itch to set in, now would be it - but Charles doesn't feel it, doesn't want to feel it, doesn't care if he feels it later. With the effort of moving through pure intoxication, he manages to roll off of Jack and flop with a grunt to his back on the bed beside him. ]
[ Jack shivers, with the sudden loss of heat over him, and turns onto his side toward Charles. It's instinctive, without even thinking about it. He's still coming down from the wild, blissful state he'd been in, he's still craving the closeness, craving more, more than he'd ever thought Charles would be willing to give. Capable of giving, even. ]
Good.
[ There's a too-soft little smile on his lips as he says it, and he knows it, but he can't force it away. Charles Vane, flopped over naked in his bed, looking like he's made out of marble and lust over Jack. Fuck. Jack props his head on one hand, and the other reaches his way, brushing his finger over a scar on Charles' shoulder he doesn't think he's seen before. Strange. ]
[ He realizes he's watching Jack only when their eyes meet, briefly, but he doesn't look away until Jack's fingers touch his shoulder thoughtfully, and Charles looks down to see the scar left by the bullet fired by Woodes Rogers, moments after pulling Jack out of an overturned carriage and putting him on the back of Anne's horse. It's healed up like it's not so new, thanks to the marvel that is modern medicine, or at least what Duplicity offers to new arrivals. Of course Jack wouldn't know this one.
Of course he'd notice that he doesn't.
Something cold and sickening snakes its way through his belly, but this time he fucking ignores it. The risk has already been taken. They both earned their prize. Charles plans to keep it until someone pries his claim to Jack's affection out of his cold, dead fingers. He reaches out to slide his own hand around the back of the other's neck, thumb stroking the soft skin just behind his ear. ]
As long as we damn well want. [ He leans up as he pulls Jack down, and kisses him again, deepening it thoroughly. ]
[ He doesn't think anything of it. Before he'd arrived here, there had been a period of time where he and Charles were estranged, they hadn't been this close in months. Well, this close, never, but the familiarity they'd enjoyed was gone...at least for a while. Jack kind of figured they'd find their way back eventually, as friends, if not partners, now that he's got a ship of his own. They always did.
Didn't have his money on a sexual relationship facilitated by interdimensional kidnapping, but. Here they are.
Jack braces a hand on Charles' chest and leans into the kiss, a languid, unhurried exploration, getting a good taste of him while his hand splays over his chest, solid and warm. Now that the urgency is gone, and he can really revel in it, it's a marvel this is happening at all, but he doesn't doubt it. Doesn't question his intentions. He only questions the tenderness, whether he's really earned this precious thing that almost nobody in the world has ever witnessed. Had Eleanor, even? ]
What I meant to ask, is how long you've wanted this. Before, you said you would've, back home, if you'd known I wanted it too. How long?
[ Ah, well. That's a far more intimate question, obviously. Charles sinks back with a sigh, but he keeps his hand at the back of Jack's neck, fingers playing with the fine curls.
Getting to touch Eleanor like this was rare. At the time, he'd valued it more because of that, knowing full well that he was more susceptible to her tenderness than she ever was to his - but right now, lying here with Jack, it's so much easier. He's let his guard down with Jack before, and despite the worst moments of feeling betrayed by the other's choices, Charles doesn't regret any of that honesty. Jack proved himself worth it.
So why stop now? ]
Do you remember... being three or four days out from Nassau, and running down that merchant ship that had set adrift in a storm the day before? The captain showed his belly as soon as we raised the black - took a quarter of his men and stripped his ship bare, but you suggested we leave him and his remaining crew with three days of food and water, so they could find their way home and tell their loved ones that they survived the wrath of the Ranger.
[ His mouth quirks slightly. That was Jack, always thinking so well of the story that would be told. Charles himself had been content to spare their lives, but the twisted sort of mercy that Jack offered was psychological warfare. The men on that ship would either have to spin a horrific tale of the pirates' brutality, or they'd be forced to admit that they did fuck all in the face of danger. And even if, for some mad reason, they did go home to England and try to spread rumors of the mercy of Captain Vane and Jack Rackham, he'd have welcomed the opportunity to disabuse any would-be challengers of that notion, especially with their ranks swollen from the rare bloodless victory.
It had rather reminded him of Teach a little bit.
In any event, Charles had distributed the merchant captain's private store of wine among the men and told them to induct their new brothers into their new life of high seas piracy, promising to give half a share to any newcomer who was still on his feet in the morning, and throw overboard anyone who wasn't. ]
That night, in my quarters, we drank that man's best wine, and you told me how much men like that disgusted you, but you knew that some people looked at you and expected you to be a man like him, so you used it to your advantage. You told me that you sometimes felt as though you could walk straight up to a man and shoot him in the head, and he'd never think twice about letting you get close enough to do it.
[ It was years ago. Not so very long into their time together, in fact. Sooner, even, than other secrets were shared between them. ]
I wanted you then. For pleasure, at the time. But... [ He stretches a little, folding his other arm beneath his head. ] ...you didn't want to leave Anne alone with the new recruits for too long. And I liked that you were so loyal.
Yes, I do remember...the Phoenix, if I recall. Quite the misnomer.
[ He lays back down slowly, careful not to rebuke the touch, to let it follow his head back to the pillow he's curled his arm under. Throughout the story, Jack is bright and attentive, he's pleasantly surprised, actually, that Charles recalls all of that. They had a lot of very strong wine. And it was...vulnerable, one of the first occasions Jack had allowed himself to be around him, where he didn't feel like he had to pretend to be bigger than he really was to keep his grip on Charles' respect. Probably because of the drink. ]
Hm. I was right to worry. The rigger whose balls she sliced clean off, Mr. Norman? He was one of them.
[ Jesus. This was years ago. ]
That long, really? And you never made a pass at me, not once, until here? [ He touches that scar again, the new one, and then moves onto another one on his chest. That one, he remembers. And this one, and this one. A whole history between them could be told with the scars with the other's name on them. ] I must sincerely apologize, then. All this time, I have been underestimating your self-restraint.
[ He doesn't let go of Jack, but he does roll his eyes away with a sigh. ]
Fuck you, Jack.
[ True, he only recently came to realize that there are some things he does hold sacred - but even before that, there were certain lines he simply had no desire to cross. He chooses not to assume that Jack really doesn't know him as well as he thought. They never would have gotten this far otherwise. ]
[ Shouldn't have said it, now you've gone and bloated his ego. Charles Vane's wanted him for years. It makes him feel good, to know that, to have that truth in his hands to cherish, shining and precious like a prized jewel. That doesn't wipe the smug smirk off his face. ]
Give me a few more minutes, Chaz, I can still feel you in my guts.
[ His hand wanders further, over the Submissive mark. Jack runs his thumb over it as if he could wipe it away, angry on Charles' behalf all over again, bewildered that their fates here weren't reversed. He doesn't spend much time ogling the mark, letting his arm lay loosely over the other's chest instead. ]
I wouldn't have been ready then, anyway. Maybe, before now, it's hard to say. Anne knew before I did, and never said a word.
[ Fucking hot, but he's not going to be so easily distracted. His jaw clenches for a moment when Jack touches the line at his neck, but only a moment. Jack knows why he's pissed about that; he doesn't need to make the point again, in a moment like this.
His fingers slide up through Jack's hair, thumb just barely tracing the corner of his jaw with that same rare tenderness. ]
Yeah, well, you and Anne don't have it all as figured out as you'd like us to think. But it was clear even then that you'd sink or swim together.
[ At the time, he'd been just attached enough to Jack that he couldn't decide what was worse: devaluing their genuine friendship with meaningless fucking - or coming in second for something he genuinely wanted. So he'd let it go, chalked it up to wine and victory and refused to think about it again. ]
[ Charles always did think that he and Anne could be the death of each other. He never saw it that way. Even if, somehow, he sees something that Jack cannot, he'd rather that, than have to try living without her.
He wonders how much more of this he'll be able to take, before he decides he can't live without Charles, either. ]
She told me...that she was surprised, when I asked her what she would think of me signing a contract with Hickey.
[ He watches Charles, curiously. As far as Jack knows, Charles and Hickey both have been content to pretend the other doesn't exist, and the peace and quiet is nothing worth complaining about. Not that he expects that to last forever. His fingers tap softly on the other's chest, drumming out some inconsistent beat. ]
She'd caught me looking at you so many times, she didn't think he would be my type. [ Ridiculous, obviously, he fits right into Jack's stable of blue-eyed killers and thieves. But she was onto something. ] I told her I was only looking. [ With a sweeping gesture, because, hell. Look at him. He'd have to be dead not to be attracted to him. ] She knew I was lying to myself.
[ As far as Charles is concerned, he'll turn a blind eye to whatever Jack's getting up to in Fuck City for as long as he can get away with, not just because Jack is clearly thriving in a way that Charles himself and Anne aren't well-equipped to manage. He knows that sooner or later, he's bound to get possessive in a way that Jack won't be prepared to indulge, so the longer they can avoid provoking it, the better.
Fortunately or otherwise, Duplicity is well equipped with plenty of distractions. ]
What about now?
[ He traces the sharp sideburn along the angle of one cheekbone, slipping down to the other's jaw, like he doesn't give a single fuck whether these soft caresses diminish his aura of menace, because he doesn't. Not when it's Jack, not when it's only the two of them here, and not when he's got literally nothing left to lose but the opportunity and excuse to do it. ]
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Spread your legs.
[ Charles sweeps his stolen necklaces aside for the bites that cross the other's chest and find a nipple, working it with his tongue before another, quick little bite follows. He grabs the bottle of lube, and starts to twist it open, but manages to get himself fully distracted by how much he wants to kiss Jack again. So he does, fitting his hips between the other man's thighs and grinding down, their cocks trapped against each other.
This must be the fastest he's ever managed to develop an addiction. He's addicted to being allowed to do this. Charles grinds harder against Jack, one hand sliding up to his throat as he coaxes his tongue into his mouth, and he gets that hand all the way into Jack's hair before summoning the strength to rip his mouth away with an actual snarl. ]
Rrgh, what are you doing to me?
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Pressing his kiss-swollen lips together, he tries to swallow a moan as Charles' mouth trails lower, and the hand at his throat makes him shiver, but that only makes it sound fucking needier, more guttural in a way that vibrates through him deeper than anything, more consuming than the shallow panting up until now. This man, his friend, his captain, his confidant, is striking hot at the core of him, and he's asking what Jack has done to him? ]
I thought it was just me, losing --mmgh-- losing my fucking head.
[ Jack reaches for his face, caressing his cheek while he takes the time to catch his breath. It's not so overwhelming, anymore, looking into Charles' eyes while they're entangled like this. It feels warm, instead of dangerous. Almost natural. ]
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Exactly. Losing his fucking head. Not just because he wants Jack so much, but because Jack wanting him feels so fucking good.
Finally he manages to pull enough focus together to get the lube open, and he slicks up his fingers before shoving it aside. Charles sinks lower down Jack's body, dragging the hard, hot line of Jack's cock against the muscles of his stomach, pressing his own dick into the bed with a groan. It's a little messy, hooking his arm around the other's thigh to get beneath him, but Charles hikes Jack's hips up from the bed for the room to press a finger inside him. Each knuckle comes with a biting kiss to the chest, one tasting the little fox tattoo.
But now, he thinks, with the finger all the way in, already working against tight muscle, curving inside for the sweet spot, he wants to see exactly how good Jack looks. So he pushes himself up just enough, lifting those hips up higher too, to make it absolutely fucking clear that he doesn't want to miss this now. ]
You look so good like this, Jack.
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He hooks his ankles around Charles, making sure he can keep himself elevated where he needs to be, but even more desperate for another point of contact. He pulls him in as close as he can, grabbing at his shoulders as his mouth works lower and his stubble scrapes at his sides, greedily taking everything the other can give until he raises himself up and away to look down at him. ]
That so? [ He opens his mouth to continue, but he's cut off by a jolt of pleasure, as Charles finds what he's looking for inside him, a sweet spot that pulls a feral noise out of him, half gasp and half growl. Jack looks up at him, his eyes pure, molten desire, mouth hanging slightly open as he asks for more. ] Like what?
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Naked. Messy. [ His voice isn't quite a whisper, but the growl is low, as though it's just between the two of them. He tilts his head this way, admiring Jack beneath him, and the other. ] Flushed all over.
[ A second finger presses into Jack's tight hole, both of them working over that spot, dedicated and relentless. Charles stares down at him, and then ducks in again for another hungry kiss, because that's what an addiction fucking means. Too long without a taste and he just can't help himself. ]
You look like you need to be fucked properly. I'm ready to oblige. [ His teeth catch on the edge of the other's jaw, but the kiss that Charles places there is uncharacteristically gentle. Almost pleading. ] Say it.
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It helps, having that filth growled into his ear, while he's taking the second finger. It gives him something to focus on besides the ache of getting stretched out like that. Even that ache is fading quickly, as Charles works him over so ruthlessly that he can't keep his head on straight enough to kiss him back properly. Jack groans into his mouth and slings his arms around his shoulders, nails digging crescents into him as his cock twitches with the demand.
He doesn't hesitate for a second to give in. ]
I do. I've been fucking craving it, please, Charles, fuck me, now.
[ Definitely pleading, breathlessly, and shamelessly. That Jack can trust him enough to expose himself like this says more than comparing him to anyone on that list ever could. ]
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With his mouth at Jack's throat, Charles pulls his fingers out, nudging the other's hips just enough to let him his cock and guide it, because the first thrust is hard and deep, opening Jack up and filling him in one shot. Another guttural growl, and Charles draws back to thrust in again, just as hard. Then again, and then he's fucking Jack for real, gasping as sheer want sends a thrill up and down his back.
Now he can bury a hand in Jack's hair, and pull his head back for the space to work hungry kisses over his throat, because Charles can't get enough of the taste of him but he can't catch his breath for another kiss. Never in his life has he taken a prize that felt so well-earned as this and he's drunk on it, on his own claim to a want so deeply rooted in him that it grew even when he refused to tend it.
He knows exactly what this is, because he's drowned like this before, but only Jack has made him feel like he wasn't drowning in it alone. ]
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From the first thrust, Charles fucks a sound out of him that comes from the chest, and bubbles up through his throat, a moan that wrecks through him like a sob. It feels so fucking good, and Jack thought he'd known bliss after the first couple times, but this is something else completely, not just the satisfying sensation of being filled up and fucked. It's a breakthrough on other levels, an overdue acknowledgement of something he's long denied (they've long denied) that twists him up in a different way from before.
Now he's twisted around Charles, emotionally and physically, rocking his hips with him and doing something which is so rare for him, not putting a single thought into what comes next, and simply enjoying what's right now. It feels so greedy, enjoying the feeling of being taken like this, but getting to hold him so close and watch while he does it is a pleasure Jack's not properly had, and he's going to indulge. ]
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He couldn't give up his home, and he couldn't give up Jack. There was meaning in those things that he didn't believe really existed until he was threatened with truly losing them, and found his own life didn't nearly measure up in exchange. And every time he hears Jack's name mentioned with recognition by people born hundreds of years after the death of everyone he's ever known, it tells him that no matter how ugly it had to be - still will be - in that crucial moment, he made the right choice.
Thoughts for later, surely. Possibly. Jack has his full attention now, everything in the world narrowed down to him, as Charles fucks him with deep thrusts and a relentless pace, gasping against his throat. Fingers scrape the back of Jack's head before tightening again into a fistful of his hair, and Charles lifts his head, just a little, enough for his guttural moans to tingle over the other's cheek, for their heads to touch. He can barely breathe, but he can't stop fucking him, every roll of his hips bringing them closer. ]
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[ It's a raspy whisper, his voice going hoarse from all the mouth-open, heavy breathing the other man is forcing out of him. The pace is too ruthless for him to catch his breath, and yet it still feels more intimate than it ever has before, like they're sharing a single breath, gasping it up and huffing back into the other's skin to absorb because they can't break this closeness long enough for anything else.
Jack leans his cheek against Charles' head and tangles his own hand in his hair in turn, the motion of their bodies making it as if he's nuzzling him like a dog. He likes this kind of closeness more than he'd let on until he actually has it, so now that his arms are around him, pulling him into his body, it's easy to become enamored with it. The rub of his dick against Charles' abs, the tingling breath on his face, the sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, the delicious drag of the other's cock against the spot inside him that makes his breath catch and his toes curl.
It's too good. Too fucking perfect, a phrase he'd clearly been too liberal with in the past, since it's only gotten better. ]
More.
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He drops one arm to hook under Jack's thigh and tilt him back, changing the angle just enough to fuck deeper into him, faster, filling him up so that every thrust of Charles' cock works over the sweet spot inside him. Charles moans into the kiss, shameless and breathless, doing his level fucking best to kiss Jack and fuck him at the same time, even as the pleasure starts to overwhelm his capacity for both.
God, he could come soon, but he doesn't want to. It feels too fucking good, the way Jack takes everything he gives and still pulls him closer, like it's not enough. They haven't even put words to any of this yet. It just... is.
Fingers scrape the back of Jack's head, until finally he has to push himself up, keeping Jack's thigh hooked over his arm, fucking him like he wants to break the bed in half right under them. But Charles doesn't tear his eyes away, even half-feral with naked want and something a lot deeper: whatever happens next, he doesn't want either of them to think he didn't know exactly what he was doing. ]
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And that's enough. The wet, progressively sloppy kisses and the possessive tugs at his scalp are great, but that's what really sends him over the edge, the knowledge that Charles isn't going anywhere. That he has him, in some way that remains undefined, but is no less powerful for it. It makes him feel so damn fragile, and simultaneously secure, in this, if nothing else.
The way he's feeling, the way Charles is pounding into him, it only takes a moment of reaching between them to touch his cock for him to come, coiling and clenching with pleasure. ]
Keep going.
[ He has to choke out the demand, but Jack resists the easy temptation to squeeze his eyes shut as he's fucked through it, instead watching his lover (there's a word for it. it doesn't seem enough.) watch him shudder and shake because of him. It's not a necessary order, he knows Charles won't dare do anything but keep this up until he can't any longer. ]
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Good thing he doesn't have to stop. He nearly comes just from watching Jack go over that edge, but it's still too good to give up - he wants to ride out every last tremor as Jack's body trembles underneath his own. And then he wants to do the same thing over and over again, because the dam is broken and there's no holding back the flood.
God, this feels so fucking good.
It's different though, the urgency of it, not like the other times that lasted only as long as the moment and then became something that never happened. Things are different this time, it's so clear to him already. Maybe that's what makes it so hard to hold off on coming, still fucking Jack hard and deep with a bruising grip on his thigh - or maybe it's just the way Jack is looking at him, his eyes blown wide with pleasure. Doesn't seem real.
His groans grow louder, hungrier, until he stuffs his cock into Jack for the rush, coming deep like he's leaving a mark. The sound that comes out of him is shaken. ]
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Jack grips him close, tensing his thighs around him so he can't even pull out without breaking free of him. He can't imagine wanting to do anything else right now but this (except, perhaps, telling Anne so she can get off his case about it), but maybe it'll send Charles into another brawling meltdown. Hard to tell, and even after laying there for a moment, his brain hasn't rebooted to its full function yet. So he keeps clinging, panting into his hair, slowly relaxing under his weight like a blanket, and eventually, when he feels he can speak, he presses a kiss to the top of his lover's head. ]
...Charles. Stay for a while, won't you?
[ Not on top of him, necessarily. But he doesn't mind that, either. ]
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He sinks into Jack just to catch his breath, amazed at the strength of the tremors still coursing through him. If there was a moment for that violent itch to set in, now would be it - but Charles doesn't feel it, doesn't want to feel it, doesn't care if he feels it later. With the effort of moving through pure intoxication, he manages to roll off of Jack and flop with a grunt to his back on the bed beside him. ]
I'm not going anywhere, Jack.
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Good.
[ There's a too-soft little smile on his lips as he says it, and he knows it, but he can't force it away. Charles Vane, flopped over naked in his bed, looking like he's made out of marble and lust over Jack. Fuck. Jack props his head on one hand, and the other reaches his way, brushing his finger over a scar on Charles' shoulder he doesn't think he's seen before. Strange. ]
How long?
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Of course he'd notice that he doesn't.
Something cold and sickening snakes its way through his belly, but this time he fucking ignores it. The risk has already been taken. They both earned their prize. Charles plans to keep it until someone pries his claim to Jack's affection out of his cold, dead fingers. He reaches out to slide his own hand around the back of the other's neck, thumb stroking the soft skin just behind his ear. ]
As long as we damn well want. [ He leans up as he pulls Jack down, and kisses him again, deepening it thoroughly. ]
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Didn't have his money on a sexual relationship facilitated by interdimensional kidnapping, but. Here they are.
Jack braces a hand on Charles' chest and leans into the kiss, a languid, unhurried exploration, getting a good taste of him while his hand splays over his chest, solid and warm. Now that the urgency is gone, and he can really revel in it, it's a marvel this is happening at all, but he doesn't doubt it. Doesn't question his intentions. He only questions the tenderness, whether he's really earned this precious thing that almost nobody in the world has ever witnessed. Had Eleanor, even? ]
What I meant to ask, is how long you've wanted this. Before, you said you would've, back home, if you'd known I wanted it too. How long?
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Getting to touch Eleanor like this was rare. At the time, he'd valued it more because of that, knowing full well that he was more susceptible to her tenderness than she ever was to his - but right now, lying here with Jack, it's so much easier. He's let his guard down with Jack before, and despite the worst moments of feeling betrayed by the other's choices, Charles doesn't regret any of that honesty. Jack proved himself worth it.
So why stop now? ]
Do you remember... being three or four days out from Nassau, and running down that merchant ship that had set adrift in a storm the day before? The captain showed his belly as soon as we raised the black - took a quarter of his men and stripped his ship bare, but you suggested we leave him and his remaining crew with three days of food and water, so they could find their way home and tell their loved ones that they survived the wrath of the Ranger.
[ His mouth quirks slightly. That was Jack, always thinking so well of the story that would be told. Charles himself had been content to spare their lives, but the twisted sort of mercy that Jack offered was psychological warfare. The men on that ship would either have to spin a horrific tale of the pirates' brutality, or they'd be forced to admit that they did fuck all in the face of danger. And even if, for some mad reason, they did go home to England and try to spread rumors of the mercy of Captain Vane and Jack Rackham, he'd have welcomed the opportunity to disabuse any would-be challengers of that notion, especially with their ranks swollen from the rare bloodless victory.
It had rather reminded him of Teach a little bit.
In any event, Charles had distributed the merchant captain's private store of wine among the men and told them to induct their new brothers into their new life of high seas piracy, promising to give half a share to any newcomer who was still on his feet in the morning, and throw overboard anyone who wasn't. ]
That night, in my quarters, we drank that man's best wine, and you told me how much men like that disgusted you, but you knew that some people looked at you and expected you to be a man like him, so you used it to your advantage. You told me that you sometimes felt as though you could walk straight up to a man and shoot him in the head, and he'd never think twice about letting you get close enough to do it.
[ It was years ago. Not so very long into their time together, in fact. Sooner, even, than other secrets were shared between them. ]
I wanted you then. For pleasure, at the time. But... [ He stretches a little, folding his other arm beneath his head. ] ...you didn't want to leave Anne alone with the new recruits for too long. And I liked that you were so loyal.
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[ He lays back down slowly, careful not to rebuke the touch, to let it follow his head back to the pillow he's curled his arm under. Throughout the story, Jack is bright and attentive, he's pleasantly surprised, actually, that Charles recalls all of that. They had a lot of very strong wine. And it was...vulnerable, one of the first occasions Jack had allowed himself to be around him, where he didn't feel like he had to pretend to be bigger than he really was to keep his grip on Charles' respect. Probably because of the drink. ]
Hm. I was right to worry. The rigger whose balls she sliced clean off, Mr. Norman? He was one of them.
[ Jesus. This was years ago. ]
That long, really? And you never made a pass at me, not once, until here? [ He touches that scar again, the new one, and then moves onto another one on his chest. That one, he remembers. And this one, and this one. A whole history between them could be told with the scars with the other's name on them. ] I must sincerely apologize, then. All this time, I have been underestimating your self-restraint.
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Fuck you, Jack.
[ True, he only recently came to realize that there are some things he does hold sacred - but even before that, there were certain lines he simply had no desire to cross. He chooses not to assume that Jack really doesn't know him as well as he thought. They never would have gotten this far otherwise. ]
We all make mistakes.
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Give me a few more minutes, Chaz, I can still feel you in my guts.
[ His hand wanders further, over the Submissive mark. Jack runs his thumb over it as if he could wipe it away, angry on Charles' behalf all over again, bewildered that their fates here weren't reversed. He doesn't spend much time ogling the mark, letting his arm lay loosely over the other's chest instead. ]
I wouldn't have been ready then, anyway. Maybe, before now, it's hard to say. Anne knew before I did, and never said a word.
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His fingers slide up through Jack's hair, thumb just barely tracing the corner of his jaw with that same rare tenderness. ]
Yeah, well, you and Anne don't have it all as figured out as you'd like us to think. But it was clear even then that you'd sink or swim together.
[ At the time, he'd been just attached enough to Jack that he couldn't decide what was worse: devaluing their genuine friendship with meaningless fucking - or coming in second for something he genuinely wanted. So he'd let it go, chalked it up to wine and victory and refused to think about it again. ]
What did she tell you?
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He wonders how much more of this he'll be able to take, before he decides he can't live without Charles, either. ]
She told me...that she was surprised, when I asked her what she would think of me signing a contract with Hickey.
[ He watches Charles, curiously. As far as Jack knows, Charles and Hickey both have been content to pretend the other doesn't exist, and the peace and quiet is nothing worth complaining about. Not that he expects that to last forever. His fingers tap softly on the other's chest, drumming out some inconsistent beat. ]
She'd caught me looking at you so many times, she didn't think he would be my type. [ Ridiculous, obviously, he fits right into Jack's stable of blue-eyed killers and thieves. But she was onto something. ] I told her I was only looking. [ With a sweeping gesture, because, hell. Look at him. He'd have to be dead not to be attracted to him. ] She knew I was lying to myself.
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Fortunately or otherwise, Duplicity is well equipped with plenty of distractions. ]
What about now?
[ He traces the sharp sideburn along the angle of one cheekbone, slipping down to the other's jaw, like he doesn't give a single fuck whether these soft caresses diminish his aura of menace, because he doesn't. Not when it's Jack, not when it's only the two of them here, and not when he's got literally nothing left to lose but the opportunity and excuse to do it. ]
Not just looking with your hands, are you?
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