you an' me an' a bottle of wine

I’m not an artist I’m a fucking work of art

Heh, tit.

Raza spreads her legs and Jack relishes every spark of pleasure that roars through her, in the curious and very advantageous position of knowing how to respond based on her thoughts and feelings. It's enough to nearly drive him to distraction, honestly, the smuggler just about to hitch one of her legs over his shoulder when she pushes him away. Scoffing out a laugh and letting her slip down off the bar, it's a helluva show to watch her drop to her knees and strip him off.

Kicking away the offending garment the second he's able, Jack's lips part in a soft hitch of breath; anticipation in the face of wicked smiles and sweet lips and a hot tongue teasing over the head of his cock. His fingers wind through Raza's hair, and he raises an eyebrow mischievously down at her. It suggests that he might accidentally pitch forward into her waiting mouth if she keeps this up, though he's known her long enough that she might just be into that, at this point.