A/N: Long time no see!:) I've just been hit by sudden longing for Jack and I found this fic on my old laptop and decided to share. The story is actually complete, so I'll post the rest if there's interest.
"God, I just can't get enough of you!"
She heard the shower cabin door click open just before she felt his warmth as his strong body wrapped itself around her. The words he huffed into her hair carved into her skin like a knife goes into butter and his hand tangled in her wet hair. Just like every single time before and probably countless times to come, she felt herself go weak in the knees and lean into him, overcome by the rush of desire to be as close to him as humanly possible without crawling into his skin, to swallow him whole.
"I want you…" he whispered, "…want to be inside you," and she moaned, her body arching into the softest graze of his palms against her nipples. Few things make her as happy as his openly declared desire, his faith in their, in her love allowing him to express the want and know that she will respond and return it. She'd always encouraged him to tell her exactly what he wants and then take it, craving the way it sets her on fire, makes her feel feminine and appreciated but most of all makes her ecstatic about his newly found reassurance that it's okay to ask for something for himself and that he won't be rejected. By that time, he had long known how the affirmation would affect her of course; how she would tilt her butt back seeking contact with his groin…
"I need to have you now!"
"So take me," she told him breathlessly, transfixed by the look of his large manly hands against her pale skin, cupping her breasts, kneading the soft flesh expertly, gliding down her belly, dipping in the folds between her legs when she parts them immediately without even realizing it. No other man has ever made her so wet in seconds and no other man evoked so much tenderness in her while at the same time waking her wildest, most animalistic instincts. There simply is no other man like Jack.
His lips brushed her shoulder, wandered up the curve of her throat and he turned her over in his arms.
"Baby, I don't mean to..." he searched for the right words, his eyes dark and sincere and she frowned, somewhat confused with his hesitation. "I don't ever want to make you feel… like an object," he said, "You're just so beautiful… You're too much to resist. I just can't help myself," he let out a self-depreciating chuckle, his hands tracing the curve of her waist.
"Jack!" She laughed because it was so him, the combination of a perfect gentleman, a sweet, well-mannered boy scout and a passionate carnal, wild beast she knows and loves. It's the bright side of his obsessive, intense temperament which she's determined to keep channeled into constructive sexual energy. "Are you apologizing for a perfectly healthy sex drive and for finding me attractive? For keeping your woman satisfied and happy?"
"I just…," he laughed with her, the absurdity hitting him. "You're so much more than your body to me, I hope you know that," the look in his eyes could melt stone, she thought then, the hair on his chest a temptation too strong to ignore for her too, her fingernails raking gently up and down his sternum. "You're everything to me…," he told her, suddenly overcome by emotion. "My best friend. My family…"
"Your internal organ," she ribbed on his earlier confession, making him smile.
"It's true. It feels that way. Like you're pumping blood into me that keeps me alive."
"Don't I love it when you get so poetic," she teased, hooking her arms around his neck. "And no Jack, I'm not your life-line, you are stronger than you give yourself credit for." Because as battered and bruised as his heart was, as fragile as the new balance was, she had known the day that she finally found the nerve to come see him at St. Sebastian's that he would be fine. His stubbornness and relentlessness had been toned down, humbled by a journey of self discovery, the addictions that nearly killed him, the defeat in which he accepted the failure of his relationships with women, the life-changing ordeals he'd been through, all of that forging his edginess into composure. He would be okay if she never came his way and she needs him to believe that he would still be fine if she was cut out of his life now because she knows she'd fall to pieces if he disappeared from hers.
"And in case you haven't noticed…", even standing on her toes she wouldn't be able to rub her nose against his if he didn't cooperate and lower his head. "I am your woman. Your very own personal whore," she purred. "And I happen to find you hot, sexy and irresistible as well." She scraped his slightly overgrown trademark buzz cut hair where his perfectly shaped head met his neck. "I feel exactly the same way about you, baby," she assured, pulling her body flush against his sturdy frame. "So go ahead, objectify me all you want."
"All you want," he mirrored her smile. "Just tell me if it's ever… too much," he welcomed her embrace, folded her in his arms, enveloping her in safety and love and pleasure. "Okay?"
"You tease," she grinned happily. "There is no too much with you, Jack, I can't imagine not craving you like this every time I see you, all the time."
"Oh, so you objectify me?"
"You offended, stud?"
"Guess being a gorgeous woman's sextoy isn't such a bad purpose to serve for a guy, is it?" he murmured, touching his forehead to hers, his tone filled with affection and adoration.
"So do as I say and devour me and promise me to do that every time you feel like it," she enticed, pulling him into a deep kiss, wet from their tongues and the water falling down around them, as he cupped her ass and lifted her effortlessly until her legs wrapped around his hips.
That's what she recalls now, the shower that was supposed to shorten their pre-flight preparation time if taken together but instead nearly made them late for the plane. She takes a bite of a fresh pineapple ring and wipes the sticky juice running down her chin and dripping down on her bare stomach, cursing under her breath when she notices a stain on the delicate material of her white cotton tunic that's currently unbuttoned all the way down and contrasting, well, not with her pale body but with the black bikini. So much for crispy vacation elegance.
She glances over to Jack, sees his relaxed pose, sprawled over a lounge chair on their Spanish hotel terrace and flipping through a magazine for the few car geeks who can tell the difference between Ford Bronco seventies models by year of production, offering a lopsided smile when he turns his eyes to her, startled by her muffled fuck. Great, so much for ladylike too, but curiously enough, and very luckily for her, he happens to find her impulsive outbursts of whiny earthiness cute.
It's a couple of days into their perfectly peaceful vacation and she can't really be thrown by a trifle like that. She's been lulled into a state of serenity and enjoyment of their beautiful surrounding in a medieval town with lush early summer greenery and nothing but sunshine. She thinks of what Jack said once, how he appreciated, no, loved their regular boring live. She knows to be grateful for it too, having been through her share of trouble when she swore by recklessness as her life philosophy, but what if he wakes up one day and just… doesn't see her anymore? What if she really becomes an internal organ to him, one that yes, is irreplaceable but also not particularly appreciated, what if he knows her too well for her to excite him anymore and what if the boring living really bores him, makes his life flat and joyless?
"Pineapple," she answers to the wordless question mark of his raised eyebrows. "Want a piece?"
She stretches her arm out even though she's across the room from him. How very typical that she chose the fruit for its apparent quality of making one's taste sweeter, regardless of gender. Yes, she wants to taste good to him, knows how much he loves eating her out, licking off her desire for him and claiming he's addicted to the stuff. She believes him because she feels the same about him so she's always willing and always ready.
But aren't men supposed to be all about the chase? The question won't go away as much as Jack tells her he appreciates a woman who knows what she wants and goes for it, as much as he complies with her seemingly insatiable appetite for sex and for him. Their quiet family vacation and her eagerness in that shower and any other time… She strolls absent-mindedly towards him with the dripping fruit pieces in her palm and doesn't quite notice the way he looks at her now, his gaze darkened and focused, the hunger in it one she knows so well and one that's not for pineapple.
"Here," she holds a piece to his lips. Surprisingly (or not) his hand grasps her by the wrist and she feels the flat of his warm tongue licking between her fingers where the juice trickles down before he pulls her gently to stand between his legs and looks her all over in admiration.
"You know, I have no clue about fashion, but this whole thing..." she sees his eyes shift from her flimsy-panty-clad hips to the uncharacteristic frills decorating the neckline of her tunic, down the glistening path of juice from her collarbone to her navel before he looks back into her eyes. "There's something incredibly sensual about it."
She lets out a chuckle, because no, she wasn't trying for seductive. It's just a plain bikini and heat-shielding piece of cloth and fruit juice smeared all over because she's been a clumsy eater. As long as it works on sparking his fire… she's part amused and part turned on and lets him pull her closer yet, so that he can nuzzle her belly and tickle her navel with his stubble, his tongue dipping in.
His thumb draws a lazy circle over her hipbone, just skimming the little black garment, and her resolution to make him chase her falters, knowing what that mouth can do to her, what he patiently taught her to enjoy and lose herself in.
"You're not going to eat that?" She asks, her voice cracking from the rushed breath, the handful of fruit all but squished completely.
"Sure I am," he flashes her a wolfish grin, his hand squeezing her buttock lightly and brushing the sensitive crease where it meets her thigh. "Just move a little closer, baby."
"Pineapple, you horndog," she teases, the giggle turning into a lengthy sigh when the tickling on the inside of her forearm becomes a sensuous kiss. Because horndog is good, horndog is what she hopes he'll forever be with her.
"Doesn't get sweeter than my girl," he says and she knows it can't be true, not technically, but also that he means it, just like she does when she delights in his taste.
"It's supposed to make you sweet," she pops a piece into her mouth.
"Oh, so that's why you insist on feeding me the mash?" He laughs, humoring her and taking a bite.
"Hm…," she swallows down the fruit and wipes her palm across her belly. "Nah, doesn't get sweeter than my man," she bends down and kisses his pineapple flavored lips slowly, letting him suckle on her upper lip and almost losing her balance when he runs his tongue over the super sensitive Cupid's bow. He's such an exquisite kisser, it's an art in its own the way he never rushes through this part, each and every one of his kisses unique like a snowflake and yet all melting her the same way every single time.
She's almost grateful for the rumble of her stomach just as she's about to give in completely, seduction techniques and maintaining some mystery in their sex life almost ready to be forgotten. Who cares with a lover like Jack, a lover she's addicted to and never wants to be cured of.
"You hungry?"
His languid but methodical caresses stop.
"Well… We were supposed to go for dinner…" She knows he would completely ignore it if it was his stomach demanding food but won't let her go without a proper meal.
"Damn, I thought I was just about to get mine," he smiles, his hands lingering on her, not letting her go, his best puppy eyes expression challenging her not to cave.
"Think of it as dessert," she smiles back, forcing herself to detangle from his arms, determined to prolong the tease and see where it can get her. "No dessert before dinner, didn't your mom ever tell you that?"
"I don't think that's what she meant."
"I'll let you take the bathroom first, you know I need my time," she chatters, turning on her heel and biting back a grin at his bemused, blinking eyes.
She's always been more than willing to ditch anything for sex with him, always been the one to coax him out of control, to break his restraint and reassure it's okay to lose it. Well, let it strain to the breaking point on its own this time…