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Jack groans deep in his throat when he feels you lace your fingers around the nape of his neck, breathing out a low, silky hum that vibrates smoothly through the heave of his chest. Liquid gold flows through your veins at his touch, and it thrums like a chord of desire over the press of skin against hot skin, sending a shiver up the length of your spine before blossoming into a spark of passion that’s all but enough to set you on fire.
You’d lost track of time long ago, and you're now unable to recall the hours that have passed since the sun had last dipped beyond the horizon, but you don’t really see the importance of it either way. You know enough to tell that it’s late, or perhaps obscenely early, as the moon is full and bright and it shines in with just enough of a pale glow to glint off the shimmer of sweat slicking your bare frame, preventing you from being completely bathed in darkness.
The night is mostly quiet, aside from the gentle rustling of your sheets and the warmth of an occasional sigh shifting through the air. It’s comforting, even despite the fact that your face is flushed with arousal, that you’re burning up and that you’re far too flustered for your own good, but you wouldn’t have this moment any other way. Particularly not when your eyes finally flicker open and you catch Jack looking at you like you’re a deity, and the pleasure between your thighs promptly becomes an afterthought to the soft blue of his gaze.
“Jack…” You frame your lips around his name, your voice strung high over a whimper that rings out with something that sounds too much like desperation, even to you, and you feel your cheeks grow warmer beneath the physicality of it, beneath the realization that you need and have needed this more than you would’ve ever been able to convince yourself otherwise.
Truthfully, it feels like a dream. Jack moves so perfectly against you that it almost scares you when you think about the way that he draws gasp after gasp out of you like you’re helpless under the steady rock of his hips, the way that each easy thrust of his causes your core to bubble hotter and hotter with tension and lust. He overwhelms you so slowly, pushes into you so carefully that you almost ache for something more, something rough enough to make you forget about the fluidity of his body as it glides against your own.
It’s not enough that he’s kissing his way up the curve of your neck, that you can’t even hope to think straight when he’s this close, mouthing sweet nothings against the warmth of your skin. Your chin tips up to expose the smooth column of your throat, and you moan at the tender press of Jack’s lips along the edge of your jaw, your back arching at the feel of his arms slipping around the line of your waist.
A whine hitches in your throat as he shifts to hike your legs higher up the tilt of his hips, angling into you, showing that he knows exactly what to do to make you cry out for him. Your hands are at his shoulders now, and you feel him shudder just a bit as your nails graze the heat of his flesh.
“God,” Jack whispers, his voice thick and heavy with arousal, yet tinged with something else that leaves him breathless when he groans. “You feel so good…”
You don’t even spare a moment to blush at his words before you’re saying his name again, whimpering as he presses deeper, firmer against you. There’s a shaky sigh and a murmur that you don’t quite catch, but you can feel it in the shift of Jack’s lips as he presses his mouth to your own. You kiss him in return, probably with a bit too much enthusiasm, but he hardly seems to mind that you’re moaning around the slide of his tongue, allowing him to take the pace as he tilts your head back and drinks in the passion on your breath.
You notice that he’s been patient tonight, or maybe he just wants to make this last, because his thrusts don’t turn erratic when gratification first starts to coil in the pit of your stomach. You’re growing almost unbearably needy and Jack grunts as you clench around him, but his hips continue to hold the same, unrelenting rhythm, even when you know that you’re too close, too fast, too soon, and he’s just as well aware of it as you are.
“Jack, please—” You gasp as you break for air, curling your fingers into his skin and feeling your heart swell when he shudders through the contact. “Please, m-more…”
Jack groans softly, pulling back slowly this time to rock into you with care. “Getting there already?”
You whine out something as close to the sound of an affirmation as you can manage before shifting your focus onto the heat in your core, swallowing thickly at the strain of a moan that catches in the back of your throat. Jack emits a low hum and lets his eyes flutter shut, lips parting, panting hot against the curve of your shoulder. His hips roll languidly against your own and you’re beginning to feel crazed with friction, but the sensation still continues to escalate when he speaks again and his voice is breathy and rough through the cracks in his composure.
“Just hold out for me a little longer, sweetheart.”
You whimper and writhe against him, wrenching your eyes shut as you work to blot out the stimulation, to stem the pleasure flooding through your veins. It doesn’t help when Jack presses flush against you, dropping his head to the crook of your neck, and you suddenly feel your body jolt through a sharp gasp as he drags his teeth over the supple warmth of your flesh, leaving behind the faintest semblance of a bite before guiding his mouth to your collar.
“Jack…” Your voice breaks and you’re almost begging by the time he’s sucked the salt from your skin, leaving mark after mark in the wake of his lips.
“Not yet,” he husks, grunting lowly as he shifts his weight to trail a hand across your chest.
“Jack, I can’t—” You’re running on empty now, growing increasingly desperate as you clutch at his frame like you’ll fall through the floor if you don’t hold fast. Jack leans in to nip at your bottom lip, breathing heavily as his thrusts pick up and you’re left to unravel, fated to melt into a feeble, mewling mess beneath him.
You’re utterly intoxicated and Jack feels so warm, so solid and real against you that you can hardly bear it when he rocks you into the mattress with so much resolve, so much desire coursing through his blood. He growls as he pushes into you again and he wants you, needs you, and you can practically hear it in the rapid beat of his heart as it pounds against the cages of his chest.
A shaky groan tumbles from his lips and you whine as the sound of his voice becomes all but enough to set you off again, and he speaks so quietly that you can barely hear him when he says, “You wanna come for me?”
An assortment of pleas fall from your lips like quicksilver and Jack wastes no time in sliding a calloused palm down your front, pressing hot over the bare stretch of your abdomen until his fingers are stroking between your legs and you’re soaring to new heights. You can’t help but bite your lip as you buck against his hand, feeling now more than ever like he could tear you apart with nothing more than a featherlight touch or a zephyr of praise. His breaths come harsh and raw as he works into you faster, harder, whipping the pleasure in your core up and up into a hurricane that all but consumes you.
You come with a piercing cry and Jack has to clamp a hand over your mouth to keep you from waking up the entire base because you’re gone, and it’s so good, so impossibly good that you don’t even feel the tears pricking the corners of your eyes until they’ve spilled over enough to begin rolling down your cheeks. You whimper into the heft of Jack’s palm and he grits his teeth, and his hips start to stutter, and then he’s groaning through closed lips as he hits his limit and follows you into paradise.
His sighs turn ragged when he spills and you’ve never heard anything more beautiful in your life, never felt more perfect and sated and warm than you do now as he holds you against him and makes you his. You don’t catch your breath before him but it doesn’t matter, nothing matters except for Jack and the tenderness of his embrace, and you feel yourself moan as he caresses your lips one last time, capturing them gently with his own. Fuck, you’ll never grow tired of the way he kisses you.
Jack shudders as he slides out of you and you’re left with a vague sort of emptiness, not because he's no longer between your thighs, but because he doesn’t collapse back by your side like you wish he would. He sits on the edge of your mattress instead, and he feels so distant even when he brings a hand up to stroke your tear-streaked cheeks.
“You okay?” he asks, softly, and you don’t miss the hint of worry in his tone. You laugh just a bit.
“Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Jack frowns and runs the pad of his thumb over your bottom lip, and it’s sensual, in a way, though you’re sure that he doesn’t exactly mean for it to be.
“You were crying,” he says. You try not to look amused at his concern.
“Yeah. So?”
Jack takes his palm away, leaving you with the ghost of his touch, warm on your skin. “So… did I hurt you?”
“Not at all,” is your response. “Quite the opposite, actually.”
Jack furrows his brow and you roll your eyes, a bit teasingly, before clarifying.
“I really enjoyed it, Jack.”
His lips twitch, curving up almost enough to form around the shape of a smile, and he lets out a short breath of relief. “Good.”
You flash him a smile of your own and he sits with you in silence for a mere moment before shifting to rise to his feet, and you find yourself grasping at his hand without really knowing what you’re doing, holding him still within your reach until he’s forced to turn and look at you. You bite your lip and meet his gaze with a plea in your eyes.
“Don’t go.”
Jack sighs and runs a hand through the pale mess of his hair, not really making an effort to pull away from you but still keeping his distance, like he knew that this would happen sooner or later, and you start to regret bringing it up at all because you suddenly realize that you don’t want him to speak, you don’t want to hear what he’ll say unless it’s the answer that you're looking for.
It’s not.
“…Cadet, you know I can’t stay.” Jack glances away and you stare at your lap, your heart throbbing against your ribs.
“Please,” you whisper. “Just this once.”
Jack sighs again and you're almost fooled into thinking that you’ve won when you feel him lean over the edge of the bed, only to deflate as he presses a kiss to your forehead and strokes over your knuckles with his thumb.
“You make it so hard for me to leave,” he murmurs.
“Then don’t,” you choke out, sounding far more broken than you feel despite your disappointment. Jack says your name and nothing else, for a moment, and then he’s pulling away and you’re trying not to ache as your fingertips slide off his palm. He dresses quickly, like it’s the only way that he’ll be able to make it out of your quarters before his resolve crumbles. You can’t necessarily say that you blame him, knowing well enough that he doesn’t really want to leave. Still, you wish that he’d stay and allow you to be his guilty pleasure.
“…I’ll see you tomorrow,” he calls out at last, a bit stiffly, and you nod as he reaches for the doorknob. There’s a somber look on his face and he opens his mouth as if to say something else, but he doesn't follow through with it. He leaves instead, without another word, and you sink back into bed, feeling satisfied from the sex but unable to ignore the loneliness that’s already starting to settle heavy in your chest.
Sleep, you tell yourself as you huff into your pillow. Sleep will help.
It does. Somewhat.