“Wait.” I hold up a hand, “Is this you telling me you know it will be a disaster if we have sex, but you want to do it anyway?”
“Fuck, Leo.” Jack makes a wry, amused noise in his throat. “Didn’t realise I’d need to spell out the word ‘go’ for you. Did seeing a corpse earlier mess with your head that much? Suffocate a few brain cells by accident or something?”
Okay, yeah, I’m done with this.
“Are going to keep being a prick,” I challenge him, “or are you going to kiss me?”
“Youcan kissme, thanks,” Jack counters, never one to go down easy, “Finish what you started, for fuck’s sake, Leo. Come on. I don’t want to put my cock in someone who has no follow-through.”
“That a personal rule you come up against often?” I ask drolly.
“Don’t be jealous. Yes, I have slept with other people before.” Jack flashes teeth at me, spitfires of lust and mischief exploding to life in his eyes. “We can’t all be fake virgins who don’t know how to take a hint.”
I’m caught between wanting to laugh and wanting desperately to kiss the smug look off Jack’s annoyingly attractive face. I choose the latter, rolling to my side and climbing onto Jack, sticking my hands down on either side of his head and dipping my head to take his full mouth in a ferocious kiss.
Our lips come together like swords, a duel rather than a dance. Jack gives it up for me, letting my tongue inside the wet heat of his mouth.
Jack rises to meet the kiss, growling like the tiger I keep comparing him to inside my head. It’s loud and rumbling, the vibration travelling through his body like thunder across the atmosphere. His hands immediately go to my hips, holding on tight and yanking me down so our groins wind up locked in the right place.
There’s no gentleness in how Jack handles me. He retains his grip on my hips and rolls his, grinding up against me, keeping my body in place with his unnatural strength.
My cock goes from semi-interested to fully hard by the third roll of Jack’s hips. His cock is already thick and hot under me. Our erections rub together on the fourth grind, and it forces a loud groan out of me. I tear my mouth away from his, having not taken a single breath since my lips first met his. I’m gasping as I press my face into Jack’s neck.
Jack shudders from the sensation of my mouth brushing under his jaw, my hot breath panting against the sensitive skin of his neck.
Our hips continue to roll together, hard cocks enjoying the friction from the material separating us but at the same time throbbing with the need to touch skin on skin. I want it more than I think is normal. Just to be laid bare for Jack, to let him take what he wants from me. I want that so much it makes me feel dizzy.
For a handful of seconds, we stay as we are, breathing hard and fast, trading rough kisses, grinding against one another, speeding up as our pleasure builds. We won’t let it spill over, but it’s fun to get close enough to taste a fraction of the satisfaction I might feel once we start fucking properly. Jack mentioned having his cock in me. I’ve not usually got a preference. But right now, I feel like if I don’t get Jack filling me up in the near future, I’ll come apart at the seams.
“Snow, no more playing, get your clothes off,” Jack utters with some difficulty. He releases my left hip and brings his hand up to wrap it around my throat, forcing me to look directly at him, eyes catching. He doesn’t hold on too hard to my throat, but the press of his fingers, the obvious strength in his hand, the pretence of a threat, makes my cock jerk a little bit extra.
Jack takes a nip at my jaw, eyes burning into me with a vicious intensity. “Like seriously, now, or I’ll tear it all off, and you’ll be out a decent uniform.”
It would be a lie to say his ability to do just that is anything less than a turn on for me. In the past, I’ve had a terrible habit, as Damon has accused many times, of getting involved with people who are bad for me. For anyone, really. We go into a bar, and I’ll always somehow manage to pick out the biggest, most dangerous arsehole in the place. My cock has no standards or sense of self-preservation at all.
There’s probably some deep, psychological reason for my attraction to scary motherfuckers, but I have neither the time nor the inclination to work that through with a psych agent. I was analysed by Agent Green once, and I came away from the experience more traumatised than when I went in.
But I like to think it’s okay to want to be mauled once in a while by someone with an edge to them. In this case, I’m taking on more risk than usual. Jack is made up almost entirely of edges. He’s razor blades in the dark. He’s claws and fangs paired with a deadly visage of beauty. His sore spots are well concealed, and I only know they exist because Jack has chosen to share snapshots of them when the mood strikes him.
Jack doesn’t seem inclined to be gentle, and I’m glad. I might be softer than him, but tenderness is still a language I barely know the rudiments of; it’s a song I’ve struggled to keep cadence with for years.
I’m quick in stripping off my T-shirt and shifting myself off Jack to undo my black cargos and remove them along with my socks, chucking each item somewhere off to the left. They land on the floor of my room with quiet thumps, but I’m too busy reaching for Jack to care what’s become of them.
Jack lets me help him with his own clothes, quick hands working fast. He throws his clothes off the other side of my bed.
Once we’re both completely naked, we both take a moment for appreciation, eyes drinking one another in without any pretence. It’s finally okay to stare, and I’m taking full advantage.
I knew Jack would be gorgeous, but fuck, seeing him bared is still a punch to the gut.
He’s heavily muscled, arms and legs thick, stomach washboard ridged. His chest is broad, shoulders strong. His cock draws particular attention, rock hard and impressive in both length and girth. My arsehole tightens at the sight of it, knowing from experience that no matter how much lube and spit we use to open me up, a cock like that will make a long-lasting impression.
Jack stares back at me from where he’s partially lying down, leaning up on his elbows and raking his own gaze up and down my body. It makes me feel hot and exposed to be looked at with such raw desire, especially by someone I’m attracted to in such a primal way.
My brain freezes for a moment when it takes in the full scope of Jack’s scars. He’s covered in them. Long strokes, short slashes, patterns with no direction or meaning, barring the obvious. Some look deeper than others, the skin raised like thin cord was sown into the underside of his flesh. There’s a particularly nasty-looking one across his abdomen.
I’m not an expert, but I do know it isnoteasy to scar a super-healing Liquid Onyx survivor. It would take dedication and ongoing cruelty to do this to one of them.
Jack notices me pausing at the sight of his scars, and he tilts his head, eyes searching, asking the silent question: is this still okay?
