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Jack doesn't care how he got here, how he managed to come back. He doesn't care about the way his men have been looking at him. Or the taboos he's broken, the rules he's crossed. The lines he's crossing.
All he cares about is the mouth on his, a man's mouth, harder, more demanding, more giving than a woman's has ever been. Broad shoulders, strength that matches his own.
A hard cock.
He wants to touch it, wants to taste it, wants to feel it in forbidden ways he doesn't even know how to do.
"Shhhh, easy. We have time."
Jack knows they don't, knows there is a reason this stranger has spent most of the night trying to get him to live, only to disappear and then return. There are beds in the shelter, and Jack takes the man's hand, leads him to the most remote one, unbuttons the man's shirt with shaking fingers, pushes his hands beneath the white undershirt to get at skin. Warm, smooth skin that makes Jack want to be naked so he can feel it all.
The shirt falls to the floor, and the undershirt is lifted up, torn away, leaving Jack looking at bare skin, and a dark pink nipples. He brushes them with his fingers, loving the feel of their tightness on his fingers, as he's guided back onto the bed.
A man's weight on top of him, a hard cock pressing against his own, Jack prays there isn't another raid tonight, because he doesn't think he'd be able to stop, not even with every one of his man staring at them. "Show me," he whispers.
Lips on his own and Jack wraps his arms around bare shoulders, arching, trusting the stranger with one too many names to take him where he needs to go.