"Yeah." It's a breath and intention and a bit of a plea, and Jack shifts on the low, narrow bed with a shuddering gasp at the sparking drag of teeth. Almost too much, so close to that edge that it's perfect instead, just like Zevran's always been an expert at. Once they're clear he draws back to nuzzle the angle of his jaw, kiss the soft line of his throat as he swings astride his hips. A position they're both more than familiar enough with, and one that gives him the freedom to shuck his shirt, baring freckle-dappled shoulders and a chest untouched by ink or scar.