[ 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
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. ]