( origin )“You say that as though I don’t have enough on my plate already,” he retorts mildly.
( Wow, he was a cocky little bastard when he was younger. He’s so proud, look at him GRIN. )Jack feels as though he’s got the better end of the deal, with the dare he’s been given. Though admittedly, watching his younger self have to get down on all fours and act like a dog before his own eyes was a goddamn PRIVILEGE. Don’t sulk about it, Young Jack; not only did he honestly enjoy the sight, the sulking makes him want to bite that pout right off your handsome face.
The gentle touches, hands roaming over him, the rough touches– Jack can’t hold back the sounds that slip from his throat, deep moans and content sighs. Nobody knows how to spoil him quite like himself, it seems. He’s basically putty in other Jack’s hands, ready to be molded into all kinds of new shapes.
Jack swallows hard as his neck is exposed, fingers digging into the arms of the chair as the other man drags his fingers down the column of his throat. A shiver runs down his spine at the quieting hushing, skin prickling and suddenly it’s way too hot in his own clothes. He tenses hard as he’s kept in place; a high moan escapes and he’s too far gone for words after being subjected to other Jack’s talented fingers. He inhales sharply at the kiss to his neck, and he’s fucking sold, no question about it.
He whines softy when other Jack pulls away from his him, lips tingling and trailing after him, body singing and wanting more, but lets himself fall lazily back into other Jack’s hands. He pouts and tries not to let just how much it’s all effecting him show. He crosses an ankle over his knee and drums his fingers on the arm of the chair, a picture of feigned nonchalance. He blows a stray bang out of his face.
“Certainly can’t complain.” It’s no use– the fire had already been lit and now he’s burning up from the inside. He can barely think through the need for that Handsome body on his own.