Tar and Ember

Head comfortably resting in the crook of Jack's neck, Will held Jack's hand in one of his own.

Closing his eyes, he brushed along each finger gently, feeling each familiar contour and bump, stroking tenderly over the web between Jack's thumb and index finger.

With a smile, he drew the hand to his face and inhaled deeply, his features turning dreamy as he pushed the lingering scent of soap aside in his mind, and replaced it with conjuring up the memory of the smell of tar and pitch.

Sighing, Will opened his eyes to see Jack's inquisitive face.

"Found what you were looking for?"

Mum, Will turned back to the hand, first nipping the pad of Jack's thumb between his teeth, then laved a sample of his palm.

The taste of salt on Jack's skin, albeit slightly belayed by the perfumed soap, together with the vibrant recollection of years past, gave Will his kiss-muffled answer, laden with craving;

"Not yet."

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