[ 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. ]
[ The aura of menace is hot, he won't lie. But they're past the seduction phase by now, clearly, and the way Jack's head nudges into all these soft touches reveals that he likes them. He embraces them like a loyal dog, greedy for every last scratch. There's not enough softness in his life, for a man so frequently consumed by his emotions, and something inside him wants it. He and Anne, of course, have moments like these, but they're so often on guard against outside forces that they can't lounge around and indulge it like this.
Until Duplicity. Which has come with its own deluge of fucking problems. Thinking about her too much while he sweetly caresses another makes him feel a sting of guilt, even with her explicit, insistent approval, so he stops. Charles is a fantastic distraction, anyway. ]
Does this feel like just looking, to you?
[ He turns his head into Charles' hand, presses a kiss against the pad of his thumb. He could counter that with snark, or something that could help him to defend himself, but every minute of this has him breaking open wider. ]
No. I can see this clearly, now. It's more than looking. More than fucking, even.
He wants to ask how much more, or what Jack thinks of when he says it, but it's hard to shake that fear of the unknown, the notion that to give this thing a name would be to expose it somehow, make it vulnerable to attack. They both live their lives in ways that practically beg the world to take from them whatever they manage to get their hands on. Hard to shake an instinct that runs that deep. ]
It is.
[ But he can still agree, even without the name of it, that it's more than fucking. And it's his turn to run exploratory fingers over the parts of Jack he can reach, paying special attention to the new marks that Charles himself gave to him, like a treasure map to all the delicious parts of him. There's a very satisfying stretch of body to be touched, with Jack so long and lean, and he runs his fingers slowly over every groove of rib or muscle like he's always had a right to do it. ]
Our loyalty isn't about crews or debts. We have a claim on each other. No matter what stands in front of us, know that I hold your life above any of it. And that was true even before this goddamned city.
[ Charles' agreement is all he needs. If he feels the same, if he's willing to say it, then it doesn't need a name. A name makes it something tangible, explainable, solid. Something that could be dropped or defiled or otherwise broken, and he isn't ready to put that kind of pressure on it. On himself, even. Not when this city is so determined to fuck with people's emotions at every turn.
Jack stretches out under Charles' touch, giving him free reign. A claim, if you will. Goddamn. If that isn't a more romantic idea that he had ever expected to hear from him. He rubs one of the metal nubs around his throat between his thumb and forefinger, pausing before he speaks. ]
You're right. And I know.
[ Above any of it. Maybe he didn't fully know it, but he believes it. Accepting it makes him feel drunk on all of this affection, disoriented with how quickly it's moving and how hesitant he is to return the sentiment out loud. Any of it. As much as Jack loves hearing it from him, he can't promise him the same thing. But Charles knows that, and said it anyway.
Jack leans in, so they're facing side to side, and claims his lips again, as softly as he can manage without making himself crazy. He hopes it says enough. ]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
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.
no subject
[ 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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
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.
no subject
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?
no subject
Until Duplicity. Which has come with its own deluge of fucking problems. Thinking about her too much while he sweetly caresses another makes him feel a sting of guilt, even with her explicit, insistent approval, so he stops. Charles is a fantastic distraction, anyway. ]
Does this feel like just looking, to you?
[ He turns his head into Charles' hand, presses a kiss against the pad of his thumb. He could counter that with snark, or something that could help him to defend himself, but every minute of this has him breaking open wider. ]
No. I can see this clearly, now. It's more than looking. More than fucking, even.
no subject
He wants to ask how much more, or what Jack thinks of when he says it, but it's hard to shake that fear of the unknown, the notion that to give this thing a name would be to expose it somehow, make it vulnerable to attack. They both live their lives in ways that practically beg the world to take from them whatever they manage to get their hands on. Hard to shake an instinct that runs that deep. ]
It is.
[ But he can still agree, even without the name of it, that it's more than fucking. And it's his turn to run exploratory fingers over the parts of Jack he can reach, paying special attention to the new marks that Charles himself gave to him, like a treasure map to all the delicious parts of him. There's a very satisfying stretch of body to be touched, with Jack so long and lean, and he runs his fingers slowly over every groove of rib or muscle like he's always had a right to do it. ]
Our loyalty isn't about crews or debts. We have a claim on each other. No matter what stands in front of us, know that I hold your life above any of it. And that was true even before this goddamned city.
no subject
Jack stretches out under Charles' touch, giving him free reign. A claim, if you will. Goddamn. If that isn't a more romantic idea that he had ever expected to hear from him. He rubs one of the metal nubs around his throat between his thumb and forefinger, pausing before he speaks. ]
You're right. And I know.
[ Above any of it. Maybe he didn't fully know it, but he believes it. Accepting it makes him feel drunk on all of this affection, disoriented with how quickly it's moving and how hesitant he is to return the sentiment out loud. Any of it. As much as Jack loves hearing it from him, he can't promise him the same thing. But Charles knows that, and said it anyway.
Jack leans in, so they're facing side to side, and claims his lips again, as softly as he can manage without making himself crazy. He hopes it says enough. ]