As Jack started unbuttoning his shirt, Aimery let go of his hand and draped one arm around his neck, moving the hand that had been stroking Jack's chin up into his hair. He let Jack guide them into the bedroom and direct their bodies while Aimery tried to dominate their kissing- he had an oral fixation and knew well how to use his mouth and tongue to drive himself and his partner to pleasant frustration, while on the other hand backing around in the dark, in a strange apartment, with his eyes closed, while drunk and aroused, was not his specialty. Let them both focus on what they liked and were good at, he figured, and Jack certainly seemed to be good at leading.

Then one moment he was grinning against Jack's lips and peering at him with heavy lidded eyes, and the next he was roughly shoved away, making him stumble back, blinking in shock.

"Jack?" he asked, voice thick with confusion, giving not one moment's thought to the way his sleeve was shoved up or how his shirt hung open so that most of his scars were on display. "Are you alright?"