[ Irving is definitely not a man without his more brazen, willful side, although how and when (and to whom) it tends to show itself is the part that's often much less deliberate-- and it certainly hadn't been deliberate, per se, just now, either, yet he still finds himself not... unmoved, by how Jack responds to even such a small impertinence (indeed, if Irving were to even think twice about it at all, he would have honestly never considered himself as having acted defiantly), simply grabbing Irving and holding him in place while then speechlessly finishing inside him. ]

J-- uh--

[ He catches himself, just barely, from panting out Jack's name (and his Christian name, at that) on a moan, voice dissolving once again into needy, indecent noise as he presses his warm face back against Jack's shoulder. ]

You--

[ But that sentence breaks too, cracking like ice almost as soon as it's out of his mouth. Irving had obviously already been very near coming, himself, but he feels the way his cock reacts almost immediately with a sharp, tremulous twitch in Jack's hand right, pre-come leaking onto the pirate's fingers, right after Jack unloads-- how it's the obscene, sloppy mess left inside him and dripping down his thighs that finally makes Irving's head go silent with ringing white noise, makes him cry out with a loud but muffled wail, as his orgasm is finally coaxed out sharply in an abrupt, sticky spill.

Panting, still groaning and shifting himself on Jack's cock, whimpering softly against his neck, Irving takes his time drawing back, eyes wide and slightly alarmed; he enjoyed it too, a lot, that much could not be more clear, and he wears that knowledge on his face now like pain. ]

D-don't-- Rackham, you can't tell anyone about this. No one can know that this-- th-that I... [ His voice is quiet, with an edge of desperation, yet also vaguely scolding, too: he's not asking. ] Not a soul. Do you understand?