[There's relief in Jack's shoulders when she doesn't offer any more words--despite the fact that he's always up in front of people saying things (important things, things that get played on international news for days at a time), all too often he feels like he isn't very good at it. He reminds himself that there's a difference between speaking for television cameras and talking about his own feelings to one of his closest confidant. The latter should be easier for him, but somehow it's not. Jack chalks it up to the entirety of his career caring little for the things that he wants. An entire lifetime of putting everyone else before himself.
When she kisses him, he can pretend that maybe he's allowed something just for them. He bends to her without being told to, body reacting before his mind has a chance to put a stop to this.
It's only a moment later that his hands are snaking around her waist, settling on her hips, the bottle forgotten on the table behind them.]
no subject
When she kisses him, he can pretend that maybe he's allowed something just for them. He bends to her without being told to, body reacting before his mind has a chance to put a stop to this.
It's only a moment later that his hands are snaking around her waist, settling on her hips, the bottle forgotten on the table behind them.]