"'m trying," Zephyr got out, his voice thin between gasps. It kept getting harder and harder to stay with his own senses. Inside and out, Jack had this intensity to him. What he wanted. What he was from his pulse to that /body/ of his spread out on the covers.

The way his hips rocked against Zephyr's thrusts.

That faint sheen of sweat on his oh so toothsome shoulders.

Even the space between his lips when he sighed.

Zephyr thought of that and tried to drink it down without this rush it was taking so much to hold back.

"I feel everything 's yours," he said. "An 's good, Jack. 's so /good/ Jack... I just... /fuck/! Everything, Jack."