[ See, things like that are precisely why Jack remains so far beyond Irving's ability to even form a proper opinion of the man, why he confounds him so greatly even beyond the supposedly "straightforward" nature of their encounters thus far: he's neither gentle nor kind (and as befits his idea of a pirate, Irving would certainly not expect either of him), but neither has he treated Irving with particular cruelty, either, with none of the bloodthirsty ruthlessness or contemptuous disrespect Irving would have expected from a pirate, especially one so infamous as Calico Jack Rackham.
(Teasing, yes, but Irving can more than handle a bit of teasing; he is a Naval officer in charge of upwards of a hundred rude and vulgar sailors, after all. It's practically like being a full-time babysitter to a school's worth of bratty children sometimes.
And on that note, though he'd never admit this aloud, since knowing Jack, Irving has reluctantly allowed his own feelings about pirates to... not evolve, per se, but expand somewhat, to begin allowing for a slightly more open mind at least while they're all trapped together here; it would do them all more benefit than harm to consider pooling their knowledge and their resources together so that they might stand a real chance of surviving this place.)
It's confusing for him -- troubling, almost, in how it sets his nerves on edge -- enough so that Irving almost wishes he'd be spat on, mocked, called any and all manner of demeaning names rather than this disarmingly keen and enthusiastic coaxing, warm and patient as if he could watch Irving on his cock all day with genuine enjoyment. Why? He's caught greatly off-guard by it, flustered, drawn in deeper.
And yes: most of all, tempted.
Digging his nails in more, scratching light trails across Jack's skin, Irving buries his face in the crook of his neck, nodding and groaning as he grinds down on Jack's lap, rocking in place eagerly and obligingly. His stomach tenses in that telltale way that usually heads off a climax, heat rushing through him in a large, overwhelming wave before he finishes abruptly, crying out hoarsely as every part of him tightens into it, through it, savoring the feeling of being fucked through it. ]
Please, y-you... [ He pants to catch his breath, flushed and overheated, eyes so glassy they seem out of focus. ] You mustn't stop--
no subject
(Teasing, yes, but Irving can more than handle a bit of teasing; he is a Naval officer in charge of upwards of a hundred rude and vulgar sailors, after all. It's practically like being a full-time babysitter to a school's worth of bratty children sometimes.
And on that note, though he'd never admit this aloud, since knowing Jack, Irving has reluctantly allowed his own feelings about pirates to... not evolve, per se, but expand somewhat, to begin allowing for a slightly more open mind at least while they're all trapped together here; it would do them all more benefit than harm to consider pooling their knowledge and their resources together so that they might stand a real chance of surviving this place.)
It's confusing for him -- troubling, almost, in how it sets his nerves on edge -- enough so that Irving almost wishes he'd be spat on, mocked, called any and all manner of demeaning names rather than this disarmingly keen and enthusiastic coaxing, warm and patient as if he could watch Irving on his cock all day with genuine enjoyment. Why? He's caught greatly off-guard by it, flustered, drawn in deeper.
And yes: most of all, tempted.
Digging his nails in more, scratching light trails across Jack's skin, Irving buries his face in the crook of his neck, nodding and groaning as he grinds down on Jack's lap, rocking in place eagerly and obligingly. His stomach tenses in that telltale way that usually heads off a climax, heat rushing through him in a large, overwhelming wave before he finishes abruptly, crying out hoarsely as every part of him tightens into it, through it, savoring the feeling of being fucked through it. ]
Please, y-you... [ He pants to catch his breath, flushed and overheated, eyes so glassy they seem out of focus. ] You mustn't stop--