Part of me wants to say no. The reminder of how much suffering Jack has endured is a swift kick to the chest. It makes my heart hurt to think of all those years Jack spent taking pain from those bastards. It ignites the same rage too.
But when Jack looks away suddenly, turning to shield himself as if somehow shamed by those scars, I snap out of it.
“Come on, Jack,” I coax, leaning in close and lowering my voice to a seductive growl. “Stop showing off all the pretty you’ve got going on.” He turns his head to look at me again, brows drawn, eyes hopeful, and I offer him a wicked flash of teeth, giving the final push. “I need you to fucking wreck me, babe.”
Jack lets out a guttural sound of his very own and grabs for me, taking hold of my arm and manhandling me down onto my back. His large body moves over me, blocking out the rest of the world and locking me into this space where it’s just the two of us, and all the bullshit out there doesn’t matter, can’t touch us.
He looks down at me for another beat, green eyes practically shining with pure want, before he swoops down to capture my mouth in another bruising kiss. Punishing. Brutal. It hurts, teeth biting at my bottom lip and possibly drawing blood. Don’t know, don’t care. Just want this, need this, more than anything, so much so it’s maddening.
I let Jack settle between my parted legs, his rough hands touching my body, scratching nails across my torso and gripping on hard to my thighs.
He pulls his mouth off mine, and I let out a rumble of discontent, protesting this action, this fucking betrayal. He’s supposed to be getting closer, as close as it’s possible to get, not backing off.
“Got stuff?” Jack asks, making me realise why he’s dared to put distance between us.
“Top drawer,” I say, nodding at the closest bedside table.
Jack doesn’t hesitate, reaching for the drawer and yanking it open. He does it too hard, pulling the drawer out of its slot and almost throwing the contents out. Jack doesn’t seem to give a shit, snatching the lube from the drawer and throwing the damn thing on the floor. It crashes hard but doesn’t break.
“You okay for me to do this?” Jack asks me, opening the bottle and waiting to squeeze some onto his fingers.
I give another affirmative nod, unable to smile or joke now the reality has set in, and I find myself internally begging to be stuffed full of Jack’s cock. I won’t beg out loud unless Jack asks me to.
“Be quick. Dying for you a little, here.”
This seems to please Jack immeasurably, and he goes to work lubing his fingers. He shifts backwards to get better access to my arsehole. I aid him by spreading my legs further apart and grasping the back of my thighs to hold myself open to him.
Jack reveals himself to be an expert at readying a tight hole for fucking. At least in the technical aspect. He’s proficient and not at all playful, which indicates his past experiences have all been fast and dirty endeavours. It’s doubtful he’s ever been able to spend hours uninterrupted with a lover, learning how to open them slowly and tease with small pleasures.
I don’t mind, as all I really want in this moment is to have him inside me, but it’s something to take note of for another time. If there is another time, which isn’t a line of thinking I want to follow right now.
What matters is now. Later can curl up and die for all I care.
Once I’m able to take three of Jack’s fingers with ease, using a generous amount of lube, he leans over me again and asks a question I didn’t expect.
“Do we need a condom?”
He seems to be asking genuinely, his expression serious.
I hesitate, unsure what to give as a response. If Jack were anyone else, I’d say yes, absolutely. But I know Liquid Onyx survivors are impervious to disease, and besides which, all FISA agents are given monthly health checks. Beyond both those things, I trust Jack. He’s my partner, a man who I would trust to have my back, to put my life in his hands if need be.
If I can depend on him to take a bullet for me, then I can let him fuck me bare. It’s not flawless logic, but it works for me.
“No,” I tell Jack, meeting his eyes and letting him know I’m being real, no messing around. Not about this. “Do me raw.”
Jack seems to accept the demand for what it is and sets to the task of lubing up his thick cock. My own erection, despite the lack of attention paid to it, is still painfully hard. It’s the anticipation of taking Jack, the sight of him putting the same intense concentration into fucking me with his fingers as he does looking after his gun and watching for danger in every situation he’s forced to contend with.
When Jack deems himself sufficiently lubed, he moves in between my spread thighs and braces one arm next to my head. He stares down at me, that single-minded focus coming into play once again and making me feel a little overwhelmed at how powerful it is. To be held in place by the strength of someone else’s desire to simplyhave youis a potent thing.
Jack uses his free hand to guide his cock to my hole. The large head rubs over my opening, and I suck in a harsh breath at the sensation.
“Leo,” Jack says, voice deep and gritted. “I’ve got you, okay?”
His eyes ask me to give in to him, tolet himin. I want to, more than he can know.
“Please,” I murmur, unable to speak any louder than this. It’s too much. “Please, Jack.”
I said I wouldn’t beg unless he asked, but fuck it, I’m desperate. This needs to happen now, or I’ll fly apart like overheated glass.
