Jack’s smile twists into a tooth-baring grin. “Hallucinating, huh? You know, there isn’t anyone else here save for you and me. Keep on clutching at that pride. You know I’m MORE than happy to strip it from you in favor of making you feel reaaaaally good, Jack.” And. Right for the jugular.
He can see it, in his counterpart’s eyes. That need to play the game, to hold back just long enough to maintain control, and it’s friggin’ intoxicating to watch the way Jack slowly gives in. Sometimes, the ensuing power struggle isn’t worth postponing a very pleasing reward. That’s something he’s come to learn, with time and experience. Jack fits his fingertips under his younger self’s chin, when he draws closer, lifting it up so he can take a good look at the length of his neck and the angle of his jaw. Youthful, sharp. Just asking to be marked up. The usual.
“You could, with – uhm, microsensors,” he wiggles his eyebrows in the same moment that Jack wiggles his fingers, playing the chatty game right up until the moment he can press his mouth to Jack’s. His tongue swipes over his bottom lip, catching the faintest hint of blood just before he digs his fingers into the tender hinge of Jack’s jaw and forces his mouth open. Chasing the taste of blood with his tongue, he BITES, hard, at the corner of the other man’s mouth. ( Bleed, kid. )
He shivers, working his jaw into what looks more like a pout than his intended glare. (Just once, he’d like to win, but part of him likes it better when he doesn’t.) There’s already heat crawling up his spine and he’s angry with himself for being so weak for this. He doesn’t reply, he can’t with other Jack’s hands maneuvering him, eyes raking over him. Jack glowers at him and bites his own tongue, worrying the cut from the candy he’d enjoyed earlier.
The copper taste doesn’t take the edge off the sexual tension, but Jack snorts at the other’s little eyebrow dance anyway, and then he’s being kissed. It starts out gentle enough, it always does, and then it snaps into something vicious and Jack makes a noise in the back of his throat, sharing the taste and gripping the other’s shoulders least he get devoured in the process.
Jack yelps at the bite, muffled by the other Jack’s tongue, but he doesn’t pull away, (no-sir-ee, if you blood, old man, he’ll fucking give it to you). He bites back, teeth sliding over tongue until he’s not sure whose mouth is whose and his fingers slide over the other’s throat, not quite squeezing but not quite gentle either. He’s not about to go down without a fight.