the thought of being e. jack’s personal chew toy, and not just in an intimate setting (although, you could argue the act itself is sacred for him).
having your limbs tangled, breathing in the musk of his cologne with the undertone of copper he never could quite scrub off. yet, it’s so… him. whether he likes it or not.
you trace the hard lines on his face, smoothing out any wrinkles that furrowed between his brows or nose bridge while he grimaces. he’s “earned” the stress, there’s no need for you to erase them - yet, you do it anyway as an act of love. but when your fingers stray too close to his mouth — two fingers on his jaw, urging him to open wide — you can’t fight the temptation of sticking a knuckle or two in. naturally, he flinches, bobbing his chin forward to urge you away.
he didn’t want to hurt you; it was one thing when his fingers buried into your skin, leaving bruises on your hips when you were intimate. or when he sinks his canines into the crook of your neck, tainting you. he just gets so passionate in the moment! you smell sickeningly sweet that it made his mouth drool. but now? when you beckoned him to bite? how cruel.
“c’mon. i know you want to,” you whisper, breath fanning across his cheeks. “finger food, get it?”
your “joke” earned a low scoff from him, and an (imaginary) eye roll if he could.
“lambs aren’t exactly bite-sized,” he’d retort, before leaning back into your touch.
you huffed a laugh, fingers proceeding back to his mouth to trace his bottom lip with your thumb. “right, as if you can’t retract your jaw wide enough to make that happen.”
jack’s fingers twitched. fine, if you insisted to poke around, why not assist? he was your lover. his hand smoothed up your forearm, his fingers curling around your wrist. your breath hitched, the corner of your lip quirking upwards. “open wiiiiide.”
pressing his chin down, jack bared his teeth; sharp, and unnerving — it made your skin crawl, natural human instinct recognizing uncanny danger. yet, you pressed two fingers back in his mouth, grazing against the ridges of his razor teeth as if it couldn’t prick you. with the way your heart thrummed against your chest, you’d think the realization on how poorly this could turn would be crystal clear. however, here you are.
suddenly, his jaw snapped shut.
you yelped, jerking back. “jack!”
an unmistakable rumble vibrated within his chest. the motherfucker was purring while he gnawed on your fingers. shockingly, it also didn’t hurt despite feeling molars chewing on your knuckles like a chew toy. the strange sensation of wet heat that suffocated your pointer and middle fingers didn’t last long before jack pulled them out of his mouth. instead, settling for nipping at the rest of your fingers, then your palm, to ultimately licking your wrist as his sick way of “apologizing.”
“little lamb…” he cooed, letting go of your wrist before pulling you snug to his chest. “you’re just so sweet, can you blame me?”
a sly smile slipped past your lips. god, he was lucky he was so adorable. like a puppy, if you squinted enough.
haaai, lowk whipped this up on a whim (forgive me if it’s poop from a toilet) since the concept of lil jack showing his love through the way he also mauls people makes ya gal’s heart throb. like oh! you’re so sick i love you!
