Disclaimer: Don't own the characters, but the idea for this story is all mine, mine, MINE! :)
Warning: Serious kink below, beware.
A/N: Yes, I'm alive. Yes, I've been reading all the wonderful stories of my favourite authors and beyond. I'm so very extremely sorry I stopped with the feedback a while ago, there really is no excuse for taking whilst not giving anything back so I don't expect anyone to comment on this. I'm putting it up here for pure entertainment of those who may find the story enjoyable as Jack-themed smut and because I want an entry to honour Foxy's birthday (even though the story which is much more suitable for it hasn't been finished on time, sadly).
The fic has been written especially for Iorwen whose work I'm a HUGE fan of. For those of you who remember me as a hardcore Jater, feel free to replace Juliet mentally with Kate or better yet, yourself. That's what I do when writing these things. ;) Also, you'll be pleased to know that new chapters of "My Secret Garden" and "The Call" have been writing themselves lately too... I'm rusty and it takes time these days. I appreciate all your kind words of encouragement to no ends though. You've all been nothing but wonderful to me.
I started writing the story before S4 even aired and based it on assumption that Juliet is off the island too, the consequences of the mysterious Big Lie eating away at her soul as they have been at Jack's. Admittedly, I have a poor grasp on her character and the pairing, the S4 confession of her feelings for Jack has never happened here either.
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Black leather jacket hanging off broad shoulders. Faded denim hugging snugly his taut buttocks and long legs. The legs that used to carry him in long, unhesitant strides now scuff over the sidewalk as he trudges aimlessly through the night. She would recognize the strapping silhouette anywhere.
She used to watch him pace behind the glass, silently admiring this uncompromising posture and mesmerized by his strained unrest. Like a caged panther, distressed and wounded, the wilderness tamed by restraints; she recalls the heavy chains and his struggle against them. But never did he look so defeated as now, never broken, even in the hopeless hour of anticipating his demise.
Juliet feels a tug at her heart, or whatever is left of it. Maybe it's just the dismal music beat that surrounds her inside of her car. Maybe there's no sympathy left for anyone, not even him.
It's not the first time she's followed him down the streets towards dodgy bars and shady alleys. Not the first time she saw him stumble into a night store to stock up on liquor, not the first time she would see him drinking greedily straight from the bottle on the way back to his beaten truck. Not the first night when he'd stagger into one of the smoke-filled, stinking ratholes where she knew whiskey would be just an appetizer on the menu with red neon lights signboards that screamed sex and drugs and all kinds of depravation.
Some nights she would wait up, smoking cigarettes in her car and listening to the dope music until he walked out with his shoulders slumped and his hand rubbing his brow as if he tried to clear his hazy mind. Sometimes she'd follow him all the way back to his block. Not even stopping the car, just driving by. Her eyes lingering on this once adamant man. Jack.
He's become an obsession, now that she has nothing left of her life but a facade. Juliet hasn't even questioned why, or how, or what for. Is it guilt, is it compassion or is it something else? She follows him, that's what she does.
Talking to him would be dangerous, would be out of the question. Someone's probably watching, someone is always watching. But that's not why she doesn't, not when she has nothing more to lose except for her pointless life. If she thought about it, Juliet would have to admit that she likes watching him. Studying him and his actions, her mind filling in the gaps. Even at the times when she almost feels sorry for him, almost wants to take him in her arms and comfort him, her fascination in observing this beautiful wild panther thrashing about in his fetters is still there.
But Juliet doesn't want to think about it.
This time he seems oblivious to the bars and stores. He fends off several hookers that try to lure him into a fifteen-minute blow-job or whatever it is that they offer. She can't see his face, but he doesn't even turn to look at them. Until he's stopped by a man gesturing for him to get past some metal-clad door and Juliet reads the sign that casts reddish light over Jack's jacket.
Pandora's Box.
There are no display windows or any other clues but Juliet senses this is no regular club. Unwittingly, she glides her fingertips slowly over the steering wheel, her skin starting to tingle, conflicting emotions stirring within. She knows he's not at the bottom of this dark place for indulgence; it's not hunger that brought him here. It hasn't been search for pleasure that made him reach for the bottle or whatever pills she saw him downing.
He only wants to numb the pain and there is no solace for him. And the red neon lit doorway is where he will be searching for a scrap of human warmth, Juliet concludes.
Yet, as she watches him disappear into the murky hallway, she thinks of the day when he grabbed her and held that broken plate to her neck. He threatened to hurt her but when her mind replayed the events, she knew he wouldn't. But he was so strong and demanding, her instincts yearned to succumb to him. That was the day when she started craving his touch. To get closer to him, catch a whiff of his musky scent, brush the back of her hand against his arm –
Juliet started dreaming of him and her mind gradually altered the memory of their clash into an image of another wrestle, one where he would hold her body tight to his own and she would gasp and pant but not in terror – or was it the terror that excited her? Her lips twitch at the irony of her thoughts. Jack is no longer a touchstone of inner strength but his resigned self destruction is the only thing that changed about him. Maybe it's always been there, lying dormant within.
Without questioning her motivations, Juliet steps out of her car and walks up to the entrance to Pandora's Box. The bouncer charges her 100 bucks and hands her a couple of tokens, chuckling at her raised eyebrow.
"It's sex, dolly. It's live," he tells her and Juliet feels warmer. She has long since skewed from the coy persona of her Miami born self, the horrid experiences of the past bringing out things from within her that she had never known existed. But she has never been to a sex club, Juliet thinks, amused, offering the bouncer a wry smile.
"Anything special you're lookin' for?" the man asks. "Girls, couples? More? We have private rooms..."
"I'm meeting someone," she retorts and hopes it's not a lie.
With a knowing look, the man opens the door for her and Juliet finds herself in a surprisingly lavish space, walls appearing to pulse as vibrant light beams flow through the Plexiglas cladding, flashing projections of hard porn. But the lights dim further down and the lobby descends into a murky stairway. Each step takes her closer to the crowded, faintly lit main level. Debauchery, she thinks, scanning her surroundings. But where is hope?
The air is heavy with cigarette smoke and stench of alcohol. Still, the sweetish, heady undertones of sweat and sex prevail. The beat of loud thumping music hits her insides rhythmically, as if already engaging her in some weird sexual act. The flashing magenta and indigo spotlights bring out what Juliet now sees is a cage suspended from the ceiling close by, where a half naked woman writhes more than suggestively. It isn't the only one. Some of the lights are set to bring out an open area and Juliet takes in a large stage, with a group of erotic dancers, surrounded by impressively big audience.
A sweaty body rubs against her, throwing her out of the wonderment. She makes out the form of a couple, the women's breasts bared and the man's hands up her mini-skirt, as they fall down a sofa beside her. It only takes one scan of her surroundings to register many more, in various stages of undress, some probably having sex.
Her eyes find the bar and sure enough, that's where he is. Leaning against the counter, he downs a couple of shots in a row and turns towards the stage, watching. Juliet follows his gaze and immediately, her insides betray her in an involuntary spasm. Those are not dancers. It's a group orgy; naked and scantily clad bodies, male and female, tangled together in every possible combination. Clenched together, writhing and twisting and fucking one another wildly. Juliet is mesmerized and a brief thought of how such a scene would shock her a few years ago makes her glance back to Jack.
He's not watching anymore, but talking to a petite but well-rounded brunette in a pink sequined bikini, her long wavy hair cascading down her shoulders. A lap dancer or just a whore. Juliet sees another woman approach them, one of exotic Asian features, dressed in vibrant red and she's still for a moment as they wheedle and coquet Jack, grabbing his butt and rubbing themselves against him, waiting for his choice of one of them, or both. Their advances leave him surprisingly inert as Juliet nears them, overhearing their negotiation.
"Okay, how much for you, in the pink?" his voice is toneless and tired, but he doesn't slur.
"You can have us both for half price…," the Asian girl doesn't back off.
"He's made his choice," the brunette hisses in an answer, making Juliet chuckle. Even whores fight about him and yet he's always alone.
"A beer and a cigarette for me," Juliet speaks firmly, watching him tense and turn around slowly. "I'm cheap," she smirks.
"Juliet," he barely moves his lips as if in slow motion. There's a spark of former lucidity in his hazel eyes as he takes her in.
"What are you doing here?" He glances to the sides and behind her as if looking for some signs of unwelcome surveillance.
"Yeah, what do you think you're doing, bitch?!" the little slut tugs at Juliet's elbow. "Get your lily ass out of here if you don't want that pretty face turned to mince!" she hisses.
"She's with me," Jack supplies quickly.
The girl eyes her for a moment as if deciding whether she wants to sell herself to both of them.
"It's okay," Jack turns to her. "You're still in. Five minutes," he says.
"Five minutes? That's a blowjob and twenty bucks," the girl shrugs and walks away.
"You don't have to do this Jack," she tells him, her voice soft and she's almost surprised he even hears it above the loud music.
Jack lets out a frustrated sigh.
"Do what?"
"This," she gestures after the girl. "You don't have to come here."
Without looking at her, he snorts and waves at the barman to pour him another shot, downing it in one greedy gulp.
"What, are you offering?" he leans back, elbows against the counter, throwing her a lopsided mirthless smile. The dim light doesn't conceal the red-rim of his eyes, being from the lack of sleep or too much alcohol, but the intensity is still there. Only now she sees despair, not determination behind it.
"What do you want, Juliet? How did you find me?" he asks, running his large hand over his slightly overgrown hair. He must have neglected shaving for a week or longer, the stubble starting to resemble a full beard. "We shouldn't even talk."
"You say that as if you had something to lose," she moves closer, touching his hand. Startled, he looks straight into her eyes.
"We're not that different, Jack."
The barman refills his glass but before he can reach for it, Juliet snatches the liquor and pours it down her throat, without wincing. Tequila.
"Since when are you drinking, Juliet?" Jack's expression is something between amusement and aggravation.
"Since when you are, Jack?" she retorts.
"Since when are hanging out in whorehouses?" he presses.
"And you?"
This is when his anger takes over. He grabs her by the arm and speaks straight to her face. His breath hot and smelling of tequila, voice low and dangerous.
"Listen, I don't need a fucking guardian angel or your fucking permission!" she has to balance herself against something and her palm lands on his sturdy chest. For a second, she's back to the Hydra station and his forceful assault. It feels good, entirely too good.
"You come after me, thinking you can save me or whatever crap you were going to give me," he pulls her up against his body.
"You think you know me, huh? You think you know what I need? I'll tell you what I need, Juliet. A good proper fuck, that's what I'm here for," his mouth is but an inch from hers and she knows his fingers digging into her flesh will leave an imprint of a bruise.
As abruptly as he seized her, he lets go.
"Now get out of here and leave me alone."
She sways, overwhelmed by his angry outburst.
"My offer still stands," she says.
Momentarily flabbergasted, he absorbs her words. Then he lets out a laugh, a throaty unamused sound which once again reminds her of the days when he was her invincible prisoner. It reverberates through her body in a hum, finding its way to in between her legs. Like it always has.
"Are you playing a whore now?"
"Not anymore than you play you'd be satisfied with one."
"Look at this place, Juliet," he grabs her again, this time by the shoulder and twirling her around, he points to the brightly lit stage. "It's a fuck fest, a real inferno. Do you want to be a part of that?"
The performers look like one organism, pulsing in the rhythm of their thrusts and bounces and groans. A plait of two men and a woman sandwiched between them attracts her attention; They hold her up by the ass and pound into her in unison,
"Do you?"
"I asked you a question."
She relaxes in his grip and inches herself closer, turning to face him, meeting his darkened stare with the defiant one of her blue eyes.
"What makes you think you know me?" she mutters, trying to keep her voice firm and bold, fighting her instinctive response to his distinctive presence, his dizzying scent and the dark glare of his eyes. In vain. When he squints to study her face for a while and then moves his hand from her shoulder up, to touch her hair gently, she draws in a deep breath.
"You've changed," he says, lacing his fingers further into her wavy tresses cut to just above her chin now. His fingertips graze the nape of her neck causing a shiver run down her spine and Juliet anticipates a decided pull into his mouth.
"We all do," she whispers before letting her eyes shut.
"You're serious, aren't you," he states, making her look up. She knows what he means. Her lips twist into a cunning smile.
Finding the jeans belt loop on his hip, she curls one finger around it and pulls herself so close to him, that their thighs are touching and her shoulder is shoved underneath his. Never breaking away from his eyes, she slowly moves her hand down, grazing the bulge over his crotch with her fingernails.
"I am."
At first he's completely still, letting her hand roam and eventually cup him lightly through the jeans, and then it happens. His fingers shove roughly into her hair and grip the back of her skull as he crushes his lips to her in a hard, wet kiss. Almost violent, almost panicked, the kiss is like a scream, his tongue opening her lips impatiently, his teeth clashing with hers, his whole mouth swallowing hers wildly.
It takes her a second to respond, but when she does it's with equal fervor, sucking his tongue into her mouth and then pushing hers along side, biting on his lips, and soothing them with gentle soft licks. He doesn't stop, doesn't break the kiss for air, nearly suffocating her with his untamed hunger and soon he has her maneuvered in front of him, trapped between the counter and his muscular, unyielding body pressing into her.
It's happening so fast, she has no chance to think of what they're doing, lost in the sensation of his hands cupping her butt to press her closer and thrust up against her, letting her feel he's already hard. Juliet's hands slide around his waist and into the back pockets of his pants, mimicking the action, their groins grinding against each other, the motions instinctual and rushed.
He's holding her so tight and devouring her mouth so intensely that she feels her knees buckle and her back arch into him. Her mind is swimming from the pleasure of being touched by him, of touching him, her hands move up under his shirt, relishing the smooth, warm skin over the taut muscle. She can feel his erection digging into her lower belly and tries to hook one of her legs over his hip, to get it hit her swollen center through their clothes, but her pencil skirt obstructs the action. He seems to get the hint and instead pushes his own leg in between hers, rubbing his thigh against her, making her gasp into his mouth.
So this is like to be the object of Jack's lust, the object of his undivided attention, her hazy mind supplies and she lets out a strangled moan.
He stops then, just as abruptly as he started, pulling out of the kiss and shifting away from her hips.
"Is this what you want?" he asks her hoarsely. It's amazing that even with her three-inch heels he's still towering over her, or that's how it feels.
"I want a lot more than this," she shots back, smirking, and then brings her mouth up to his ear, giving its edge a long, thorough lick.
"I want to know what it's like to be fucked by you, Jack," she blows into the moistened skin.
"Shit," he huffs out, the grip on her hips tightening. She knows she's gained the control back now and she knows he hasn't expected her to be that forthcoming.
"That's right, I wanna know if it's as good as I imagined."
His eyes are closed and his jaw set; Juliet smiles, and darts her tongue over the corner of his lips.
"You never thought about it, Jack?"
She's met with a burning black shade when he opens his eyes again to look at her.
"I think of wiping this cocksure smirk off with my cock," he says and smiles, the unreadable smile of a poker player, his old invincible self re-emerging briefly.
"Especially," he looks her up and down before tracing his finger along her tingling lips "that you just daunted a perfectly capable hooker off."
"Would you have her do that right here?" she asks, certain that a public blowjob would only attract appreciative looks in this place. "Would you want everyone to watch her suck you off?"
She plays with his belt buckle, undoing it slowly and making both of them gasp with growing desire, then fingering the button.
"Where did you plan to take her, Jack? Here? In your car? A back alley?"
He flinches at her words ever so slightly, but she can feel it. A quick look of sadness crosses his features at the implication. Of how little there is left for him. That's not what she wants. She only wants him to feel good, both of them, to forget the pain eating away at their souls. She wants him and to give herself to him.
Taking hold of his face, Juliet kisses him again, slower but no less passionate and deep, before grasping his hand into hers.
"C'mon," she says, "I know just the place."
The crowd lessens where she slides into a purple lit corridor with a row of doors, leading him by the hand until they stop in front of one of them. But before she can open it, she's slammed against the cold surface front up, with his worked up body pressing against her from behind. He pins her hands by her sides and licks up the back of her neck, then takes her earlobe between his teeth.
"Here's just as good."
His hard cock is rubbing against her buttocks and Juliet is close to giving in, to lifting her skirt up for him to access where they both need it and fuck her crazy against the door to a private sex show room in a sordid sex club.
"You want to fuck, I'll fuck you Juliet," he grunts, moving her arms back, to clasp one hand around both her wrists and sliding the other up and over her throat, the hold gentle but firm, his body still pushing her into the metal panel. It's as if he's recreating the very moment.
"Was that when you wanted to…?" she asks.
He doesn't sound surprised, only aroused, as the image molds in his head.
"Yeah."
"Why, Jack? Why did you want to fuck me?"
He hesitates, and she feels his grip lessen.
"You infuriated me."
"And now?"
His hands let go of hers and slide up and down her sides, before he turns her around slowly and for the first time this night she feels they're in it for the same reason.
"Now we're not that different," he smiles faintly before kissing her on the lips and pulling her into him to open the door.
"You know there's no hotel room behind that door?" he warns.
"I know exactly what is there, Jack."
They enter a poorly lit narrow booth and it takes Juliet a few blinks to make out the shape of a lone chair. A large black opaque glass panel before her takes her mind further into the memory of the Hydra. How she watched him strain in his cell.
"Do you like to watch, Jack?" she asks.
"Maybe I should ask you that, Juliet," he retorts and if it wasn't for their wretched reality, she would swear he's flirting with her.
She lets him back her up into the glass as he traps her body with his arms outstretched on either side of it, their heaving chests, their mouths only inches apart. He smells strongly of tequila but the unmistakable unique scent that is him and that has always made her wet and ready to be claimed by him. It used to be such sweet torture to watch him toss about the aquarium and not be able to touch him, be close to him.
"If I had put a show for you there," she says, knowing his mind is back with hers, "would you put one for me?" she smirks, but her mouth waters when she pictures him taking out his hard cock to jerk himself off.
He studies her for a moment, challenging her with his feral stare and she knows what he'd say to the old Juliet, he'd laugh and tell her she wouldn't have the guts, but this Juliet is different so she returns his defiant look.
"Why don't you find out," he finally says with a knowing smile, stepping away from her to sit on the chair.
She knows he must be anticipating her strip for him, touch herself, show her body off to him to provoke and arouse him until he gives into his need. She complies for a moment, engaging in the game and slowly undoing the buttons of her dress shirt. There is immense hunger burning in his eyes and once again, she's stabbed by sadness for him, the man denied the quench of his simple desires, denied a human touch. He's just as conflicted as ever, repressed even in the middle of his downfall, even in a whorehouse. Juliet stifles an urge to laugh and cry both at once.
Coming up to him, she reaches for his hand and guides it to her hip.
"You do it."
He slowly moves his fingers over the black fabric, previous rough haste replaced by curious gentleness. But he takes the hint and pulls the zipper of her skirt down and then helps her step out of the garment.
"Hold ups?"
"Just for you," Juliet smiles and then her eyes flutter close when his fingers trace the lacy rims, towards the inside of her thighs.
"Juliet…" he mutters softly and she thinks of all those times she longed for him to whisper her name like that, for him to touch her with the purpose of pleasuring them both. She would have never pictured it happening in a sleazy sex club, but here they are and she knows that dreams belong in the past and she's strangely aroused by the obscenity of their surroundings.
She feels him grab two handfuls of her ass and tug at her to come closer. Her knees tremble when he pushes his face into her pubic mound through her panties and breaths her in.
"Fuck," he bites out "I could eat you alive."
The ferocity in his voice makes it sound almost like a threat but Juliet has known nothing sweeter, nothing more addictive than be the object of his desire. Yielding to it, she runs her fingers through his thick hair, relishing the rich texture and the way he looks up to her face. She reaches for his hand again and moves it to the crotch of her panties. It's soaking wet and she wants him to feel it.
He doesn't disappoint and pulls her into his lap so she straddles him. Her arms locked around his neck, Juliet goes straight for his mouth, aggressively and greedily, as if she can't get enough of kissing him. He responds beautifully, twining his tongue with hers while his hands glide up her thighs towards her buttocks, his nimble fingers finding their way under the panties to caress the delicate skin there.
"I want you, Jack," she breaths, her eyes finding his own. "All of you. I have for a long time."
It comes out emotional, personal and maybe that's what he needs because he draws her tighter to his chest, his arms encircling her in their strength and warmth. He's thinner than when she last saw him, but none the less sturdy and she knows he could still overpower her easily. She knows he won't, but the thought makes her insides twitch and her nipples stand in attention.
"Take your shirt off," he requests, already working on the clasp of her bra.
Juliet does, and he slides the bra off, leaning back in the chair and looking her up and down. His apparent rush from their encounter at the bar is gone and replaced by focus and passion, as much as his alcohol-numbed brain would allow him and she's surprised with how attentive he seems right this moment. He grazes her bare breasts with his fingertips excruciatingly softly, barely touching them at all even though she sees his need in the clench of his jaw, in the flare of his nostrils.
But instead of grabbing her, Jack moves her own hands to her chest.
"Touch them, Juliet,"
"So, you do like to watch?"
"I like to learn," he tells her, watching closely as she kneads the tender flesh, pinching her hardened nipples.
Soon enough, he takes over. A moan escapes her throat at the feeling of a large palm closing over each breast. He's applying just the right amount of pressure and each little squeeze makes her breath hitch in her throat. Instinctively, her hips begin to rock against him, seeking connection with his hard-on and then grinding upon finding it. Deliciously solid and capable.
That's when she realizes he's still fully clothed while she's almost completely naked, panties and hold ups and her black stilettos being all that's left. It doesn't make her self-conscious; his leather feels cool and erotic against the underside of her arms. He trails tantalizingly slow wet kisses down the side of her throat and his hands roam her body when she tries to reach for the zipper of his jeans.
"No, not yet," he smirks, pulling away. "What about my show?"
"I thought you were after a fast fuck?" she teases.
"What are you after?"
Juliet bends, reaching for her discarded skirt and fishes out a token from the pocket. She slips it into a slot by the glass panel and a blind goes up on the other side, revealing the live sex show key element: the performer. With her back to the display, Juliet can't see who that is, her eyes trained on Jack's face as surprise, arousal and hesitation run across it.
"That's not exactly what I meant," he half chuckles but still looks, distracted, over her shoulder.
She suspects it's another erotic dancer, a woman, who would undress, masturbate, maybe even pretend to come, all to get her invisible client off. Look but don't touch. With all the lap dancers and whores available in this place, with enough dumb bimbos looking for adventure, why would someone choose a peep show? But Juliet remembers the thrill of looking without touching. Yet, as her hands push the leather off his shoulders, she thinks that once she's got to feel him like this, nothing else will do.
"Who is there?" she asks.
"A couple of girls."
She's never been into women but curiosity takes over and she takes a brief look. Oddly enough, they are the same two whores who threw themselves at him at the bar. Now dressed only in thigh high latex boots, they are writhing and wiggling their young bodies, showing off their best assets, brushing and rubbing against each other, bathed in reddish light in an otherwise empty cubicle.
"Do you think they can see us?" she wonders, studying his stunned face.
Girl-on-girl pole dance is nearly vanilla in Pandora's Box, but he's just a man after all. Of course they attract his attention. He shifts his gaze back to her, snapping out of the momentary bemusement. His hands slide up her bare thighs slowly, thumbs grazing the edge of her panties.
"Oh, so you like being watched, Juliet?"
"That's not what I said." It comes a little too fast to be convincing.
She glances down, to see his long fingers splayed over her pale skin, rough and wiry on soft and supple, the sight erotic and mesmerizing, and then watches them inch up, her breath caught up in her throat as both of his thumbs meet just over her clit, rubbing it gently through the fabric, up and down.
"Then show me," he whispers. "Show me the way."
It strikes her again, how focused he is on her. He might have been looking for meaningless sex, he might have been angry with her for interfering, he might have been blunt, but -- she realizes -- he's incapable of using her. Once she's here, he wants to make it good for her.
Oh Jack.
She bends backwards a notch, her thighs gripping his hips tighter and moves her hands to cover his, meaning to guide his moves, but he slips his own away.
"Let me watch," he almost pleads and she's entirely too unhinged or is it him that's her undoing because it touches her like nothing does anymore and so she complies.
The moist silk glides over the excited flesh with ease as she rubs and massages it and Juliet cups herself, letting the heel of her palm hit just the right spot. So many times she did just that, thinking of him, of his hands, his mouth, his cock -- Her hips jerk reflexively as her eyes find his crotch, the unmistakable bulge making her lick her lips as she pictures what will be her prize tonight. Tonight, she will see if it's as commanding and red and pulsing and dripping, standing proud, as she imagined, she will taste it -- Oh, to have him come in her mouth. Her hand reaches for his fly again, but again, he stops her.
"Not yet," he whispers and Juliet is not sure if he's teasing her or he wants this encounter to last or if he's not ready, given all the alcohol flowing through his bloodstream. Or he enjoys what she's doing too much, his dark eyes intently following every move of her fingers..
"What are they doing?" she asks, slipping one hand under the elastic.
Jack takes a long look.
"They are...Shit," immediately, his hand lands on her breast, squeezing it gently. "They are touching each other. Their breasts...," his hot breath hits her nipple just before his mouth closes around it and he groans deep in his throat and her head falls back as the vibrations caress her skin, and if she had any doubts about the show going on behind her, his enthusiasm has just dispelled them.
This. This is Jack sucking on her breasts, his tongue warm and wet, his lips pulling, teeth grazing, his stubble scraping the delicate skin and he's oh so good at that, so thorough, feasting on her flesh, savoring it. He kisses the valley in between, up to her throat, to her jaw, his hands keeping hers in place as she works herself.
"Keep going," he murmurs, then tugs at her panties. "Take them off."
She slides off of his lap, nearly panting, dying for his touch, but curious to see how far she can push him. Her back connects with the glass just as she takes a couple of steps away, the room not meant for more than one person. Juliet looks him straight in the eye as she bares herself completely and he watches, his whole body on alert, muscles strained, as if he's readying himself for a leap. There he is, the wild panther from the Hydra and God! How it turns her on.
Bolded, she parts her legs wide apart and her hands dive back to in between them as her back arches, pushing her pelvis forward. She parts her folds to give him a better view, as her finger dips into her hole.
His nostrils flare as he no doubt catches her smell and she's dripping now, her sticky juices running down the insides of her thighs. She spreads them all over her pussy, her breath shallow and quick as her heart races, as she watches his palm brush the bulge in his jeans.
"Do it," she encourages. "Go ahead, Jack. Give me that show."
Slowly, he flicks the button open and pulls down the zipper. It's mesmerizing and she thinks a moan escapes her as he pulls his cock out, just like she imagined he would. And it is everything she imagined, swollen and thick, the tip glistening with moisture. It takes everything she has not to drop to her knees right that moment to take him in her mouth. Tease him, find out what he likes, trace the bulging veins with her tongue, let him hit the back of her throat...
But the seduction of his hand wrapped around his length as he gives in to the need with an audible sigh, it is too sweet to resist. For every stroke he makes, her fingers drive deep into her body as she watches him watching her, her mind void of anything but the anticipation of what it would feel like when he pushes in --
"And now? What are they doing now?"
"Uhm…" his arousal makes him fumble for words. That's exactly how she wants him, right there with her. "They… god, they are… one is eating the other out."
"Am I obstructing the view?"
He huffs out a chuckle. "Trust me, anything but."
"Would you like to do that? Would you like a taste of her?"
"I want a taste of you," he nearly growls and Juliet is grateful for the support of the glass behind her.
She runs her fingers up her thigh, gathering the moisture and holds it out for him, taking a step up. His tongue is hot and soft as it swirls around her finger, drinking up her want. He groans, eyes fluttering shut.
"I knew you'd taste so fucking sweet."
Interlacing their fingers, he gives a soft lick to the sensitive inside of her palm, then blows into it, then rubs it against his coarse cheek, clearly well aware how it would affect her, how her body would respond in quivers, in spasms coiling deep inside of her. She stumbles a little when he pulls her into him, breathes out his name when he buries his face into her pussy, just like he did before, hungry for her, voracious. He pushes the lips apart, and licks eagerly, nibbles, pulls the flesh, just avoiding her clit but Oh!, his nose has just brushed across it and she almost collapses into him.
"You're dripping," he murmurs into her in awe and tugs her closer, his thighs on either side of her, her hands stroking his perfectly shaped skull.
"That's how much I want you," she whispers in between moans and whimpers, his tongue drawing steady circles around her clit making her drunk with desire. She wants this, his fervent mouth and his talented fingers focused on the center of her body, but she wants his cock in any part of her she can get it and she's pushing at his shoulders, weakly tries to step away.
"I need you, Jack," she says, close to begging, so worked up, she doesn't care anymore. "I need your cock."
"Come for me, Juliet, and you'll have it. Any way you want it."
"Oh god… Fuck!" she bites out as he pushes a finger up into her hole, curling it forward, pressing hard, while he reattaches his mouth to her clit, slowly, his hot breath hitting it first.
She feels like screaming when he adds the second finger, fucking her slowly with them, mimicking the rhythm she showed him, following the bucking and grinding of her hips. It's his entire face fucking her, his chin, his mouth, his nose, the different textures and shapes and his movements sending her into sensory overload. Juliet is only half aware of the grip she has on the back of his neck and the nonsense she's babbling, the please, please and don't stop, her only focus being the wonderful tidal wave gathering within her body and the notion of him bringing it out.
"Jack!" she gasps as the wave crashes, its power sweeping her off her feet, and she sways, but here's his arm around her waist, firm, breaking the fall, keeping her safe.
"Jack..." she mouths again. Just like hundreds of times she came before only to open her eyes into emptiness, but this time, this time he's here, his tongue on her pussy, soothing her, his fingers still deep inside of her, never stopping until she cups the sides of his face to still him.
"Jack..." she marvels.
His face is wet up to his nose and he's smiling at her, a languid content smile, as if he's sober again and all the wrong is undone. As if they're just a pair of new found lovers, not two broken souls grasping at whatever they can get from each when all hope is gone.
"I wish I got to see that," he says.
She leans down to kiss him, kiss herself off of him. Her juices, his saliva, the hint of liquor, his sweat, her sweat. The mixture is heady and intoxicating and she feels so ready, burning hot for him. His cock, erect and seeping, is a provocation and temptation both at once when she glances down to it and Juliet is so excited, wants it to fill her body right now, invade her and claim her, but she wants, needs to taste it first. Unwittingly, Juliet licks her lips and sinks to her knees, leaving him no time for argument, not that he tries it.
"I want a taste of you too," she breathes onto his shaft and looks up to his appreciative eyes.
Juliet moves her hands up his muscular thighs parting them further, then dips her fingers into the waistband of his worn jeans, spreads the flaps of the opening further away to get better access. She's trembling with arousal, breathing hard when she feels his hand touch her hair gently, knowing that he's fighting the urge to push her head down already and it excites her in ways she never knew before.
He's still wearing his t-shirt, Juliet notices. Why the hell hasn't she torn it off of him yet? She pushes the hem up and Jack takes the hint, taking it off in one quick movement. It takes her a moment to refocus when she's presented with the wide plane of his bare sculpted chest, heaving now, the dark hair long grown back in all the places it belongs. Juliet runs her hand through it, from his navel up to his pecs, grazes his nipples and she's rewarded with a lengthy sigh as he lets his eyes close.
He's such a beautiful man, Juliet marvels as her hands roam his body, down his stomach and arms and the colorful tattoo and the scar she left just above his hip. Why did he ever feel like he has to come here? The musky smell of his skin, of the hair just above his cock draws her closer, courses through her body and pools between her thighs. She presses her lips to his stomach, kisses her way down the hairy trail, plays with him, making him wait. It feels good to have him at her mercy, but Juliet doesn't want to deny him pleasure, she just wants to explore, to get as much of him as she can in this odd encounter.
She tantalizes him, caressing everywhere but where she knows he wants it, blowing warm puffs of air onto him.
"Are they still there?"
"What?" he tries to focus.
"Those girls."
"Yeah."
"Busy?" she prolongs the sweet torture, talking with her lips so close to his throbbing length they almost brush it.
"Yes," he says and Juliet can tell that whatever he sees there, it turns him on, as his own hand inches to his cock. For a moment, she wonders if he wishes he was with them rather than her.
"Do you like watching them, Jack?"
He looks down to her, that liquid predatory look that could burn her into ashes and pushes his other hand into her hair, grabbing a firm hold of her head.
"I like watching you more."
"So watch me now," she says, eyes locked with his, and she finally closes her mouth around the dripping head, making him jerk and gasp her name.
She sucks gently and swirls her tongue around him, just enough to make him want so much more, then licks the underside of his cock, back up to the tiny slit on top. A drop of Jack's hot precum falls on her tongue making her moan around him, her pussy dripping all over again. He's so hard and he's silky and she takes as much of him in as her throat would let her, sucking her cheeks in on her way up, then does it again and again, her hand finding his balls and fondling them gently, and he's making those guttural sounds of pleasure that excite her to the point of distraction.
She looks up to find him fighting the instinct to shut his eyes and let the bliss take over. There's delight in his eyes she hasn't seen before but there's also gratitude as if he hasn't allowed himself to fantasize about this. Juliet opens her mouth wide and runs the flat of her tongue all over his cock, slowly and thoroughly, lets him see it glide slowly past her lips. When the hold he has on the back of her head tightens and his own head falls back, Juliet stops. As much as she wants to give him this, wants him to finish in her mouth, flood it with his hot thick cum, drink every last drop of it, she wants that fuck and he's in no condition to handle both.
"Now, Jack," she says, climbing up to her feet. He blinks, confused for a moment, probably convinced that a blow job is all he was going to get from her and never meaning to complain.
"I need you in me."
It takes him surprisingly little to take back control. Or maybe not surprisingly at all; this is Jack. Before she has time to move to straddle him, she's pushed back into the glass again, his hips pressing into hers. The glass is cold against her skin and his body is so warm as it rubs against hers, his chest hair teasing her nipples and his cock gliding over her pussy. He grabs himself and rubs the head against her clit and Juliet just moans, arching into him, throwing her arms over his shoulders. Oh, he knows very well what he's doing, she decides, knows his way around a woman's body and how to play this game.
"C'mon," she grabs his buttocks under the denim. "You want me to beg?"
She hooks one leg over his hip to pull him closer and a firm grip of his hand secures it there.
"Maybe," Jack chuckles into her neck.
Not speaking, she helps him guide his cock to her entrance and here they are, making the ultimate connection. He slides in easily, her body more than ready for him, swallowing his cock as he moves in slowly but surely. His penetration is the sweetest thing she's felt in a very long time because it is him and Juliet nearly comes form that first push, when he hits all her sensitive spots at once, filling her up.
She wants to tell him, tell him exactly how he feels inside her, but words fail her and all he's getting are frantic sighs and moans, oh, oh, that match his guttural fuck! even before it all starts. Juliet tugs at his hip and he's moving now, pulling out to come back stronger, each of his measured thrusts taking her higher and closer, his body grinding, pressing into hers, sweaty skin gliding and breaths mingling.
Oh, she knew he'd be good, focused and attentive and passionate, she knew that perfect cock would feel divine stretching her walls to their limit. But he fucks her like it's the most natural thing for him to do, for them to do. They fall into the rhythm, Juliet holding to his shoulders as her body absorbs all the impact of his movements and it feels like she's breaking while falling complete at the same time. His face is buried in her neck, burning the skin with his hot breath, so real and alive and Juliet has never felt more alive even though she knows they are both in the pit of despair. She hugs him close, raking her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and his free hand finds hers to interlace their fingers in a tight grasp as he brings them up against the glass above her head.
He locks his gaze with hers for a long moment as if trying to connect with her on so many levels and has no idea how to. She recognizes the despair there, the cry for help, the apology and the need. For forgiveness, for solace, for love. As if he's trying to tell her so many things, she's not sure she understands, but she hopes he can read it all in her eyes: he's not alone, she's there for him.
"You feel so good," she finally tells him, pulling him in for a kiss that really can't be a proper one as they're both gasping for air.
"What do you need," he huffs. "What do you need me to do." He looks at her with those dark intent eyes, the need to give the act to her mingled with just the faintest hints of longing to just let go.
"Just… keep going," she replies. "Just like this – " she moans as he drives into her, hard and deep and steady.
"You like this?" he asks, and she's not sure if it's for a turn-on or if he's seeking approval.
"Yeah, yes," she sucks on his earlobe, the grasp he has on her leg tightening. It's almost too good, how he fucks her, Juliet has never before let herself get lost in the sensations so completely, everything except for him so close to her, in her, everything else irrelevant now.
"Kiss me," she whispers, "kiss me like you're fucking me."
"Shit," he swears, hearing her talk like that again, now that they're in the middle of it. And Jack's mouth swallows hers, his tongue sliding deep inside it, demanding and leading the dance, and Juliet moans and quivers as her insides contract, his body enveloping hers, taking her so fully, almost over powering her, all control seemingly his but it is only to play her into oblivion of orgasmic bliss. She has no idea if those strippers are still getting at each other there, she doesn't care, not when she's having him, not when all of his intensity is zeroed on her.
"More, Jack, harder" she whispers and bites at his earlobe. "C'mon, be a little rough with me. Fuck me like you would back then."
"Juliet - " he starts, but she doesn't let him finish, her teeth catching his lower lip.
"Let it go," she urges, needing to feel all of his masculine energy, his strength, his life. She wants him out of control. "Do you remember how you wanted to?"
He stills for a short moment, as if hesitating but when she flexes the muscle of her vagina around him, he frees her hand and she feels herself being lifted up against the glass, buttocks cupped by his large palms. The action sends him deeper into her and Juliet nearly cries out from the pleasure of it. Her stilettos fall to the ground with a thud as her legs wrap around him, his body pushing her up, pinning her to the cold surface, and there's nothing she can do but hold on to him and take it. Take his vehement, almost violent thrusts as he's letting go of all the anger, all the pain, all his frustration with being so helpless.
"That's it," she gasps, "give it all to me --"
"You were so fucking calm," he bites out, his mind back on the island, in the Hydra. Up and down he pushes her and Juliet feels it building inside her, a climax so powerful it would buckle her knees if they weren't already up in the air. "So fucking mellow."
You were so raw, so real, she recalls, relishing in just that, what he's doing to her. Just like now --
"I wanted to... - shake you up --" he says, hitting her so hard, it should be painful but is all pleasure.
"Break... me..."
"No," he breathes into her temple. "Make... sense out of you."
He rams into her and it all happens at once. She hears him growl and feels him go rigid right before her own orgasm hits, locking her whole body around him in a tight grip, just as she imagined, so much more than she imagined, the notion of his pleasure having been chased and caught within her, of the tension between them being consummated and released blurring her vision as he gives in to it, kneeling down and taking her with him.
"Jack...," she utters his name like a marvel again. "Jack."
"I was supposed to hate you," she says, stroking his tired back, wishing they were given a chance to curl up into peaceful sleep now.
His heartbeat still racing against her, he wraps her in his arms, hiding his face in the space between her shoulder and her neck.
"I was supposed to hate you too."
It comes out in a sob and Juliet holds him, in what should be a moment of completion but is one of heartbreak.