[ 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
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. ]