[ He grins, hard for Charles to see with his face pressed into his jaw, and hard for Jack to resist with the kind of affirmation that had gone largely unspoken, before. Once it had been revealed in this place that Charles wanted him, it suddenly clicked into place, became obvious. He could read it, he could see it in his eyes and feel it in the way he touched him, he didn't need to be told.
But he likes it, feeling desirable. It feels like the highest compliment in the world, coming from him, knowing that just the sound of his voice turns him on. Some part of him, too, likes knowing that he's got something on him, since he feels so utterly defenseless against him when they're like this. Charles could pin him down or choke him, fuck him slow and sweet or quick and dirty, and he'd accept any of it, love all of it. As long as he doesn't stop. ]
Charles.
[ Again, just to be cheeky, but it's breathier now, as he gets lost deeper and deeper in the blissful stretch, the hot mouth working at his neck. With his hands free, Jack wraps his arms around Charles in turn, grabbing desperately at his shoulders, leaving little half-moon prints with his nails, not enough to break skin, but enough to make himself clear. Stay. ]
I want to feel you-- [ A strangled groan, as his legs lose their ability to keep Charles close, and heat coils deeper and more intensely in his gut. ] The whole way home.
[that teasing repeat of the sound he loves works like a charm. vane doesn't even bother to hide the effect it has on him, which would be difficult anyway since he's already inside jack when his dick throbs like that, but so much the better.
yeah. this should be something they're both feeling later.
he arches his back into the bite of fingernails, wanting to feel those later too - the marks that sting in water are the best kinds. and without pulling back he starts to thrust faster, harder, moaning into the crook of jack's shoulder before another bite that holds on longer. let him feel that when he gets home, and every other mark, and how full he is right now, so that his whole body is ringing with it long after this morning.
it's when he twists one hand between them to wrap around jack's cock that vane decides he wants to see his face again, and he pushes himself up, braced against the arm of the couch. he looks at jack like he's already deciding what to do with him next, fucking him into the grip on his cock, into his prostate.]
[ Jack doesn't come on command. He's not a submissive person, by designation or by nature, and he's especially touchy about seeming so with Charles, given his long history of jockeying for his esteem, and his current state of having his cock inside him. So, he could finish with just those words growled into the space between them, but he doesn't.
He holds out another thirty seconds or so, moaning and cursing at the same time as he spills into the other's hand, looking up into his eyes with his own consumed with something fiery and molten. Something more consuming than just lust, clenching around Charles as if he can pull him into himself, so he can't disappear on him again. Jack moves with him, his fingers carding through his lover's long hair, refusing to go limp until he's followed him over the edge. ]
[he doesn't have to wait long. vane has nothing to prove - if he isn't making it doubly fucking clear how turned on he is by jack like this, then neither one of them is having as good a time as they could be.
jack could have made him wait as long as he could physically manage, and in the end he still gets exactly what he wanted.
it rips a moan out of him when he feels jack come, gripping his cock so fucking tight that he has to be careful not to do the same to jack's. but he keeps fucking him, and he milks the spasming cock in his hand with firm strokes through it, until his fingers and jack's stomach are a mess; then vane presses the same come-streaked hand against jack's chest, weighing his body down, right where he can be the sole object of the same fierce, blown-out desire in vane's eyes before the next deep thrust spills over inside him. and the ones after it, as vane groans in pleasure, as his own heart threatens to pound his ribs into dust.]
[ Jack loves the mess. There's something dirty and primal about it that he always likes, and that with the weight of him pressing into his chest and fucking him through it has him riding the wave of that orgasm longer than he has any right to. His mind and body are nothing but burning-hot pleasure, even after he hears the groan that tells him Charles has taken his, feels him pulse inside him and leave even more mess.
He pulls him down to kiss him again, chest still heaving too much for it to be particularly skillful, but it seems important, in his sex-addled brain, to show the same affection in the denouement as he had before. A softer, slower kiss, the hunger having been sated, but no less passionate, or less needy - after all, he's got his legs hooked behind him again, not ready for him to pull out. ]
[the messy, barely coordinated kiss that follows sends another plume of heat through his whole body, but this time it converges inside his chest instead of his cock, giving him a pleasantly lightheaded sensation, like a low-grade high on top of the warm, melted pleasure of release. there's no space between them this time, not like months ago, when they might have caught their breath separately and were still figuring out how to acknowledge what just happened without naming it.
it's a good incentive to slide an arm around jack's shoulders and pull him tighter, answering that kiss as thoroughly as he can, even as they catch enough panting breaths to smooth it out a little more. he's not going anywhere yet. not even when his head swims, and the kiss breaks, and he drops his forehead against jack's shoulder, letting out a heavy sigh.]
[ Even when Charles shifts, the weight in his chest doesn't go away, it's just tugging from inside of him instead of pressing from outside. It's a warm, comfortable feeling, like a weighted blanket keeping him cozy from within.
Charles laying on him is nice, too, his beard scratching against Jack's chin as the pleasure slowly fades, his breath against his neck as he settles against his shoulder, his hair between his fingers as he goes from gripping it to slowly stroking through it, nails raking against his scalp. All of it feels good. It's an intimacy that's still new, and long overdue, at that. ]
Well, it's not your fault you blew the first one. Suppose you're owed one.
[ He's got a jaunty, teasing lilt to his voice, as he shifts, not anywhere near ready to shove Charles off, but getting comfortable, pressed into the couch. Jack presses a kiss to the top of his head, because...well, because. He's still too wrapped up in it to actually examine the reasons he's softer than he was before. It's been a while, is all. ]
[that soft little kiss has such an intimate weight to it, dropping like an anchor right through him. the instinct to guard himself against it is still there. but it's quieter now, merely a low murmur of defense that's easy to cast aside. if it weren't for jack, he's not sure he'd even know what trust feels like. either he's in it now, or he's not.
besides, those nails in his hair are gonna make him melt.
he only adjusts himself enough to fit them better, settling when jack does with a sound of satisfaction. he turns his head a little to press a slow, gently suckling kiss against jack's neck, before finally relaxing into the lazy comfort of it, running his own fingers up the back of jack's head, into his hair.]
You've got a hell of a head start, but I'll catch up.
[jack and anne have had a year to settle here and have done so to a degree that vane can barely comprehend. but while it may not be what he ever wanted for himself, as an afterlife goes, it's not too bad at all. this moment in particularly is pretty fucking worth it, as he runs his thumb over the lean angle of jack's shoulder.]
[ Jack cranes his neck subtly to the side, letting him have at it, as long as he's not gnawing at him. Now that he's settled down a bit, and his head is back on his shoulders instead of rolling around in the clowns, the ache is starting to catch up to him. ]
There's a bed, you know. You're welcome to it.
[ They obviously didn't make it that far this time, but. For future reference. Or napping. He holds his tongue from going any further into that, having already promised to put an end to any contract talk...which is fine. For the best, if they give this room to breathe, without weighing it down with the rules and the bullshit of this place. Or so he's justifying it to himself, after the fact. ]
Cigarette?
[ In his coat, which he can't reach with Charles splayed out on top of him. ]
Yeah, I'm gonna get you in it before I let you leave.
[if it sounds like a threat, that's just how his voice is. he's not in a rush to leave the couch, and even when they get to the bed, what they do in it is negotiable. but he's determined to claim a share of jack's time, and not get shortchanged on it besides.
the offer of a cigarette gets him moving, though.]
Ugh, thank fuck for that.
[he languidly disengages, twisting himself half-upright to swipe jack's coat up from where it had landed mercifully within reach. it takes him a few seconds of patting around the pockets for cigarettes and a lighter.]
You have any idea what became of that box of tobacco I had? [the one he and jack had hand-selected from one of duplicity's shops, in something like their first accidental version of a date.]
Iâve still got a few hours, until I need to be at the Neptune.
[ Listen, give Jack a little time, and the range of activities they can get up to in there expands significantly, but right now, heâs content to share in the body heat. Thereâs a softness now, to the after, that wasnât always there. The first few times, Jack had scrambled to take back his dignity when the deed was done, and Charles had seemed frustrated about something that, at the time, Jack couldnât figure out. That all seems like a waste of time, now. ]
I think Anneâs still got the box. Weâll have to refill it, though, I wasnât going to let it go to waste.
[that surprises him; he genuinely expected that some of his belongings just evaporated into the ether when he did. it was a good collection, definitely shouldn't have gone to waste, and refilling it one way or the other won't be a hardship. makes him smile a little, mostly to himself.
he takes the first puff of the cigarette after lighting it, but then passes it to jack, draping an arm across one long leg. yes, he could probably light a cigarette for each of them, but it's an old habit not to burn too quickly through a stash of something good - besides, there's intimacy in this sort of ritual that is only easy, and they have so few of those associated with this new thing, still. for a minute he doesn't even say anything, just looking at jack, satisfied by the sight of him, all marked up and messy and relaxed.]
[ He doesn't mind passing it. A long time ago, Jack only really smoked with Charles anyway, much preferring the drowsy calm of liquor. In his time here, he's needed to pick up another coping mechanism, so it isn't always such a social affair, but that's what it started as. It's like returning to his roots, sharing a cigarette with Charles after a year in Duplicity, even with so much of this, from the lightbulb overhead to the sticky feeling rolling down his thighs, being far too new to let him get lost in nostalgia. ]
Oh, God, fuck off. [ He chuckles with the cigarette still between his lips, coughing out the smoke as he nudges Charles off to look in the mirror on the opposite wall. ] Or I've been mauled by some beast. Hell's wrong with you?
[ He tries to put on an air of annoyance, but what should be topped off with a growl, he can only muster a smile for. There's something distinctly careless about standing around naked, freshly fucked and gone soft with a smoke in his mouth, that makes it hard to truly feel defensive about it. ]
Know a witch who can make me presentable again. No matter.
[vane just lounges right where he is as jack departs the couch, unrepentantly admiring his bare ass and the streaks of come on his thighs, to say nothing of the evidence of said mauling. but when jack returns, he stands up to meet him, taking the cigarette and inhaling with a pointedly raised eyebrow.]
I didn't start it.
[thus simultaneously acknowledging two unspoken things: one, that it was irving; and two, that it was a competition. but hell, if jack 'knows a witch'...]
Which means you made a choice to come see me looking like that.
[his knuckles bump jack's chest as he hands the cigarette back. important to note: he doesn't look pissed. but he is using his 'fuck around and find out' voice. make of that what you will.]
Could feel you getting impatient, even over the phone.
[ Okay, caught red-handed. But consider, Nate might have better shit to do than get himself involved in Jack's stupid romantic dramas yet again. That's not the reason, though, and they both know it, so Jack won't insult him by pretending. He could have done a better job of hiding it, but he chose to flaunt it, just as much for the joy in being marked by Irving as it was to provoke Charles into doing the same. And Jesus, did he. ]
My neck won't play host to any more proxy battles between you if I'm going to look like I've been attacked, after. Enough of that.
[look: if it was a real battle he wanted, that wouldn't even be a question. he certainly wouldn't warn jack about it, or ask his permission. so jack could always consider snippy sarcasm about it to be another step on the road to acceptance.
it's a far cry away from making nice with jack's other lover, but it's also a far cry from actually trying to murder him.]
If he tries to call me out, I'll come.
[let that be known, as well, as he flattens his hand against jack's chest and gives him a deliberate push in the direction of the bedroom: he has every intention of respecting jack's desire not to take sides, but a challenge requires an answer. whether it's obvious, or hidden like morse code in the marks on jack's body, left for the next pair of hands to find.]
Unless you think you can give me a good enough reason not to.
[ In the same warning tone as âare you going to make me?â, that implies Charles wonât be happy with the result without saying so outright. Even as a joke, the idea of them at each otherâs throats stresses him out enough that his next drag is a long one, eyes not leaving the other man even as he exhales. He got lucky, he realizes, that between John and Anne, the former would rather avoid conflict and the latter can tolerate just about anything, if it makes Jack happy. Charles isnât so simple as that.
He steps back, with the push, and swats his hand away, blowing smoke into the face of his former captain. He might be easily provoked by a handful of love bits, but whatever it is heâs trying to pull out of Jack wonât come so easily. ]
He doesnât want to fight you, Charles. If he could pretend you donât exist, he probably would, but he knows too much to do that. Told him about you, when I thought you werenât coming back.
[so much for teasing. jack has never really been a pushover in their relationship, even when he had to resort to ingratiation to keep vane from losing his temper. but this swift, sharp defensiveness is new.
if anyone else had tried to slap his hand and blow cigarette smoke in his face, he'd already be putting the embers out in their eye. but it's jack doing it. new, and deeply unpleasant.
if he was grinning before, he's not now, but instead of getting angry he just looks at jack for a moment, taking his measure with seven months and a new partner added to the scales. then he takes the cigarette, and puts it in his mouth before turning away to head into the kitchen instead.]
[ Well, mission accomplished there. Jack's sure Irving hasn't spent a single second since he found out thinking about anything else, because Jack hasn't, and he knew immediately what it meant when he told him that Charles had returned. He knows. Maybe he's been dreading it, even.
Still, that answer makes him smile, despite himself. Of course he does. Captain egos... ]
If Hickey's left any food in there, it'll be off by now, he's been gone a couple weeks.
[ Maybe today's the day Charles Vane learns about doordash. Until then, Jack presses his fingertips into the bruises he left, before fishing around on the floor for his pants. ]
[in fact he'd just opened up a cabinet to look for bottles, prompting him to smack it shut again, annoyed.]
Fuck kind of man doesn't drink?
[just grow up and develop functional alcoholism like an adult. but fine! he'll just hydrate, then - presumably hickey, whatever kind of man he happened to be, did in fact own cups. he steals one and just fills it up from the sink. he is hungry, but only realized it once jack mentioned it, not yet feeling any sort of urgent need to resolve it. or put on his own pants, for that matter. in fact, after the first glass goes down, he's going to take the next one with him into the bedroom, along with the dwindling half of the cigarette.]
Lightweight who doesn't want to be caught in a lie.
[ Handily, it's what Jack suspects the real answer is, as well as a succinct explanation of his side of why it didn't work. He's got nothing more to say about it, more occupied with eyeballing Charles, who has made no effort whatsoever to make himself decent. Now he's regretting not marking him up the same way, because he looks too damned perfect, like a statue, even with all the scars.
He follows a step behind so he can ogle his ass, and if he's caught, he'll just smile, pants slung over his shoulder like a towel instead of actually pulled on. Once they're in, he kicks the door shut behind them, and settles onto the bed, taking up enough room lounging that Charles will have no choice but to invade his space if he wants on the bed at all. ]
Edited (just making it make sense snsjs sry) 2022-11-17 15:26 (UTC)
[jack is welcome to eat his heart out; vane himself certainly doesn't stop his eyes from lingering whenever there's an appetizing view of jack's naked body in front of him. he's comfortable in his own skin, and he's comfortable with jack; in fact, the only thing(s) he didn't bother to remove were the bracers - one of which still has the scarf braided through it.
he's a little more guarded now, but that doesn't stop him from draping himself across jack with no more hesitation than it takes to set the glass down on the side table. he lounges sideways over jack's stomach, elbow propped up on the other side of him, as though he's been doing it for years; when he decides to do something, like kill a man or steal a ship or be a better partner, he doesn't spend a whole lot of time second-guessing himself about it. even if he's still figuring out what the fuck that last option looks like.
another slow pull of the cigarette, which he deliberately breathes out in a rolling plume across jack's chest.]
[ It gets too damn cold here, is what Jackâs thinking when he lays down, the warm rush of their little tryst finally fading, when Charles drapes himself over him like a chiseled, glistening blanket. It helps, but he pulls an actual blanket over them both anyway, not worried about the implications of getting so cozy so much as his feet getting cold. ]
Never had one.
[ Itâs spoken softly, like a confession, instead of a rejection. Someday, heâll insist to a woman he doesnât know and wonât believe him, with the utmost sincerity, that Charles Vane was a good man. Jack will believe it to the end, beyond the end, for Charles. His metric for good and bad might be skewed by his career choices, but the man cuddled up against him is an honest one, an honorable one, a loyal one. A better man than Hickey. A better man than Jack.
He wrings his hand at his side for a moment, and then reaches to Charles, just short, soft strokes over his forearm. ]
No taste for men I canât trust, is more like it. Shacked up half a year, Iâm not sure I ever even knew the man.
[it's a nice feeling, having jack deliberately reach out and touch him. not even with specific intent; just, it seems, for the sake of doing it, that contact. not much at all, and yet far too much to be ignored. vane could never say later that he didn't notice it happening, just as jack could hardly argue he hadn't meant to do it.
he takes one more pull, and then offers jack the cigarette.]
Can't seem to recall it well enough - [jack's retelling, that is] - was he on the ship with you?
[ He does it without thinking. It feels a hell of a lot better than not touching him does. They've been separated for so long that Jack doesn't consider whether it might come across as too needy or soft, in fact, it's not a concern he's had for months, now. ]
He wasn't. By the time we set sail, it was good and over between us.
[ He doesn't remember because Jack hadn't mentioned anyone, but Anne, John, and Carver. It sounds suspiciously like he's fishing for something, but he doesn't call it out. He's happy to tell him whatever he wants to know about the time he lost.
Jack takes the last drag, and stubs it out in an ashtray on the bedside table that's seen some use. Hickey was a smoker, at least. ]
Offered him a spot. Any experience at all was welcome, half the crew had never been at sea before at all. But, he was never an enthusiastic sailor to begin with.
[ And even in a professional capacity, he doubts Hickey had any interest in seeing he and John together. ]
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no subject
But he likes it, feeling desirable. It feels like the highest compliment in the world, coming from him, knowing that just the sound of his voice turns him on. Some part of him, too, likes knowing that he's got something on him, since he feels so utterly defenseless against him when they're like this. Charles could pin him down or choke him, fuck him slow and sweet or quick and dirty, and he'd accept any of it, love all of it. As long as he doesn't stop. ]
Charles.
[ Again, just to be cheeky, but it's breathier now, as he gets lost deeper and deeper in the blissful stretch, the hot mouth working at his neck. With his hands free, Jack wraps his arms around Charles in turn, grabbing desperately at his shoulders, leaving little half-moon prints with his nails, not enough to break skin, but enough to make himself clear. Stay. ]
I want to feel you-- [ A strangled groan, as his legs lose their ability to keep Charles close, and heat coils deeper and more intensely in his gut. ] The whole way home.
no subject
yeah. this should be something they're both feeling later.
he arches his back into the bite of fingernails, wanting to feel those later too - the marks that sting in water are the best kinds. and without pulling back he starts to thrust faster, harder, moaning into the crook of jack's shoulder before another bite that holds on longer. let him feel that when he gets home, and every other mark, and how full he is right now, so that his whole body is ringing with it long after this morning.
it's when he twists one hand between them to wrap around jack's cock that vane decides he wants to see his face again, and he pushes himself up, braced against the arm of the couch. he looks at jack like he's already deciding what to do with him next, fucking him into the grip on his cock, into his prostate.]
I want you to come with my cock inside you.
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He holds out another thirty seconds or so, moaning and cursing at the same time as he spills into the other's hand, looking up into his eyes with his own consumed with something fiery and molten. Something more consuming than just lust, clenching around Charles as if he can pull him into himself, so he can't disappear on him again. Jack moves with him, his fingers carding through his lover's long hair, refusing to go limp until he's followed him over the edge. ]
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jack could have made him wait as long as he could physically manage, and in the end he still gets exactly what he wanted.
it rips a moan out of him when he feels jack come, gripping his cock so fucking tight that he has to be careful not to do the same to jack's. but he keeps fucking him, and he milks the spasming cock in his hand with firm strokes through it, until his fingers and jack's stomach are a mess; then vane presses the same come-streaked hand against jack's chest, weighing his body down, right where he can be the sole object of the same fierce, blown-out desire in vane's eyes before the next deep thrust spills over inside him. and the ones after it, as vane groans in pleasure, as his own heart threatens to pound his ribs into dust.]
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He pulls him down to kiss him again, chest still heaving too much for it to be particularly skillful, but it seems important, in his sex-addled brain, to show the same affection in the denouement as he had before. A softer, slower kiss, the hunger having been sated, but no less passionate, or less needy - after all, he's got his legs hooked behind him again, not ready for him to pull out. ]
no subject
it's a good incentive to slide an arm around jack's shoulders and pull him tighter, answering that kiss as thoroughly as he can, even as they catch enough panting breaths to smooth it out a little more. he's not going anywhere yet. not even when his head swims, and the kiss breaks, and he drops his forehead against jack's shoulder, letting out a heavy sigh.]
Second chance, then.
no subject
Charles laying on him is nice, too, his beard scratching against Jack's chin as the pleasure slowly fades, his breath against his neck as he settles against his shoulder, his hair between his fingers as he goes from gripping it to slowly stroking through it, nails raking against his scalp. All of it feels good. It's an intimacy that's still new, and long overdue, at that. ]
Well, it's not your fault you blew the first one. Suppose you're owed one.
[ He's got a jaunty, teasing lilt to his voice, as he shifts, not anywhere near ready to shove Charles off, but getting comfortable, pressed into the couch. Jack presses a kiss to the top of his head, because...well, because. He's still too wrapped up in it to actually examine the reasons he's softer than he was before. It's been a while, is all. ]
no subject
besides, those nails in his hair are gonna make him melt.
he only adjusts himself enough to fit them better, settling when jack does with a sound of satisfaction. he turns his head a little to press a slow, gently suckling kiss against jack's neck, before finally relaxing into the lazy comfort of it, running his own fingers up the back of jack's head, into his hair.]
You've got a hell of a head start, but I'll catch up.
[jack and anne have had a year to settle here and have done so to a degree that vane can barely comprehend. but while it may not be what he ever wanted for himself, as an afterlife goes, it's not too bad at all. this moment in particularly is pretty fucking worth it, as he runs his thumb over the lean angle of jack's shoulder.]
Gonna put me to sleep first, though.
no subject
There's a bed, you know. You're welcome to it.
[ They obviously didn't make it that far this time, but. For future reference. Or napping. He holds his tongue from going any further into that, having already promised to put an end to any contract talk...which is fine. For the best, if they give this room to breathe, without weighing it down with the rules and the bullshit of this place. Or so he's justifying it to himself, after the fact. ]
Cigarette?
[ In his coat, which he can't reach with Charles splayed out on top of him. ]
no subject
[if it sounds like a threat, that's just how his voice is. he's not in a rush to leave the couch, and even when they get to the bed, what they do in it is negotiable. but he's determined to claim a share of jack's time, and not get shortchanged on it besides.
the offer of a cigarette gets him moving, though.]
Ugh, thank fuck for that.
[he languidly disengages, twisting himself half-upright to swipe jack's coat up from where it had landed mercifully within reach. it takes him a few seconds of patting around the pockets for cigarettes and a lighter.]
You have any idea what became of that box of tobacco I had? [the one he and jack had hand-selected from one of duplicity's shops, in something like their first accidental version of a date.]
no subject
[ Listen, give Jack a little time, and the range of activities they can get up to in there expands significantly, but right now, heâs content to share in the body heat. Thereâs a softness now, to the after, that wasnât always there. The first few times, Jack had scrambled to take back his dignity when the deed was done, and Charles had seemed frustrated about something that, at the time, Jack couldnât figure out. That all seems like a waste of time, now. ]
I think Anneâs still got the box. Weâll have to refill it, though, I wasnât going to let it go to waste.
no subject
he takes the first puff of the cigarette after lighting it, but then passes it to jack, draping an arm across one long leg. yes, he could probably light a cigarette for each of them, but it's an old habit not to burn too quickly through a stash of something good - besides, there's intimacy in this sort of ritual that is only easy, and they have so few of those associated with this new thing, still. for a minute he doesn't even say anything, just looking at jack, satisfied by the sight of him, all marked up and messy and relaxed.]
You look like you fucked an octopus.
no subject
Oh, God, fuck off. [ He chuckles with the cigarette still between his lips, coughing out the smoke as he nudges Charles off to look in the mirror on the opposite wall. ] Or I've been mauled by some beast. Hell's wrong with you?
[ He tries to put on an air of annoyance, but what should be topped off with a growl, he can only muster a smile for. There's something distinctly careless about standing around naked, freshly fucked and gone soft with a smoke in his mouth, that makes it hard to truly feel defensive about it. ]
Know a witch who can make me presentable again. No matter.
[ He returns, and holds the cigarette out. ]
no subject
I didn't start it.
[thus simultaneously acknowledging two unspoken things: one, that it was irving; and two, that it was a competition. but hell, if jack 'knows a witch'...]
Which means you made a choice to come see me looking like that.
[his knuckles bump jack's chest as he hands the cigarette back. important to note: he doesn't look pissed. but he is using his 'fuck around and find out' voice. make of that what you will.]
no subject
[ Okay, caught red-handed. But consider, Nate might have better shit to do than get himself involved in Jack's stupid romantic dramas yet again. That's not the reason, though, and they both know it, so Jack won't insult him by pretending. He could have done a better job of hiding it, but he chose to flaunt it, just as much for the joy in being marked by Irving as it was to provoke Charles into doing the same. And Jesus, did he. ]
My neck won't play host to any more proxy battles between you if I'm going to look like I've been attacked, after. Enough of that.
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[look: if it was a real battle he wanted, that wouldn't even be a question. he certainly wouldn't warn jack about it, or ask his permission. so jack could always consider snippy sarcasm about it to be another step on the road to acceptance.
it's a far cry away from making nice with jack's other lover, but it's also a far cry from actually trying to murder him.]
If he tries to call me out, I'll come.
[let that be known, as well, as he flattens his hand against jack's chest and gives him a deliberate push in the direction of the bedroom: he has every intention of respecting jack's desire not to take sides, but a challenge requires an answer. whether it's obvious, or hidden like morse code in the marks on jack's body, left for the next pair of hands to find.]
Unless you think you can give me a good enough reason not to.
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[ In the same warning tone as âare you going to make me?â, that implies Charles wonât be happy with the result without saying so outright. Even as a joke, the idea of them at each otherâs throats stresses him out enough that his next drag is a long one, eyes not leaving the other man even as he exhales. He got lucky, he realizes, that between John and Anne, the former would rather avoid conflict and the latter can tolerate just about anything, if it makes Jack happy. Charles isnât so simple as that.
He steps back, with the push, and swats his hand away, blowing smoke into the face of his former captain. He might be easily provoked by a handful of love bits, but whatever it is heâs trying to pull out of Jack wonât come so easily. ]
He doesnât want to fight you, Charles. If he could pretend you donât exist, he probably would, but he knows too much to do that. Told him about you, when I thought you werenât coming back.
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if anyone else had tried to slap his hand and blow cigarette smoke in his face, he'd already be putting the embers out in their eye. but it's jack doing it. new, and deeply unpleasant.
if he was grinning before, he's not now, but instead of getting angry he just looks at jack for a moment, taking his measure with seven months and a new partner added to the scales. then he takes the cigarette, and puts it in his mouth before turning away to head into the kitchen instead.]
Good. I want him to know I exist.
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Still, that answer makes him smile, despite himself. Of course he does. Captain egos... ]
If Hickey's left any food in there, it'll be off by now, he's been gone a couple weeks.
[ Maybe today's the day Charles Vane learns about doordash. Until then, Jack presses his fingertips into the bruises he left, before fishing around on the floor for his pants. ]
He doesn't drink, either.
[ Wasn't meant to be, between them. ]
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Fuck kind of man doesn't drink?
[just grow up and develop functional alcoholism like an adult. but fine! he'll just hydrate, then - presumably hickey, whatever kind of man he happened to be, did in fact own cups. he steals one and just fills it up from the sink. he is hungry, but only realized it once jack mentioned it, not yet feeling any sort of urgent need to resolve it. or put on his own pants, for that matter. in fact, after the first glass goes down, he's going to take the next one with him into the bedroom, along with the dwindling half of the cigarette.]
Come on.
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[ Handily, it's what Jack suspects the real answer is, as well as a succinct explanation of his side of why it didn't work. He's got nothing more to say about it, more occupied with eyeballing Charles, who has made no effort whatsoever to make himself decent. Now he's regretting not marking him up the same way, because he looks too damned perfect, like a statue, even with all the scars.
He follows a step behind so he can ogle his ass, and if he's caught, he'll just smile, pants slung over his shoulder like a towel instead of actually pulled on. Once they're in, he kicks the door shut behind them, and settles onto the bed, taking up enough room lounging that Charles will have no choice but to invade his space if he wants on the bed at all. ]
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he's a little more guarded now, but that doesn't stop him from draping himself across jack with no more hesitation than it takes to set the glass down on the side table. he lounges sideways over jack's stomach, elbow propped up on the other side of him, as though he's been doing it for years; when he decides to do something, like kill a man or steal a ship or be a better partner, he doesn't spend a whole lot of time second-guessing himself about it. even if he's still figuring out what the fuck that last option looks like.
another slow pull of the cigarette, which he deliberately breathes out in a rolling plume across jack's chest.]
Losing your taste for bad men?
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Never had one.
[ Itâs spoken softly, like a confession, instead of a rejection. Someday, heâll insist to a woman he doesnât know and wonât believe him, with the utmost sincerity, that Charles Vane was a good man. Jack will believe it to the end, beyond the end, for Charles. His metric for good and bad might be skewed by his career choices, but the man cuddled up against him is an honest one, an honorable one, a loyal one. A better man than Hickey. A better man than Jack.
He wrings his hand at his side for a moment, and then reaches to Charles, just short, soft strokes over his forearm. ]
No taste for men I canât trust, is more like it. Shacked up half a year, Iâm not sure I ever even knew the man.
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he takes one more pull, and then offers jack the cigarette.]
Can't seem to recall it well enough - [jack's retelling, that is] - was he on the ship with you?
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He wasn't. By the time we set sail, it was good and over between us.
[ He doesn't remember because Jack hadn't mentioned anyone, but Anne, John, and Carver. It sounds suspiciously like he's fishing for something, but he doesn't call it out. He's happy to tell him whatever he wants to know about the time he lost.
Jack takes the last drag, and stubs it out in an ashtray on the bedside table that's seen some use. Hickey was a smoker, at least. ]
Offered him a spot. Any experience at all was welcome, half the crew had never been at sea before at all. But, he was never an enthusiastic sailor to begin with.
[ And even in a professional capacity, he doubts Hickey had any interest in seeing he and John together. ]
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