Fic: Daylight
Title: Daylight
Fandom: Torchwood (het)
Pairing: Jack/Toshiko, allusions to Jack/Toshiko/Martha
Rating: NC-17.
Warning: ...Pegging. Perhaps a OOC for Tosh, if you're thinking she can't be anything other than mousy.
Word Count: 3360
AN: Written for the Porn Battle, with the prompt 'daylight'. It kind of got a bit out of hand, and by a bit I mean really.
Once, while drudging for a thirty-second century pulse object in Cardiff Bay, Toshiko finds a squishy object, with a hard core that takes a liking to her. If she allows her mind to wander, she’d say it looks like two phallic objects on a curved mount to each other in an awkward angle. When she touches it, both sides elongate, plump, and learn to match her skin tone.
So Toshiko does what she’s always done when she finds something that takes a likening to her especially ever since Mary gave her that pendant. She takes it to Jack.
Jack holds it up, nudging at it, and when it doesn’t change the way it does, she puts her hand on it, and there it is, fleshy and soft and realistic and if she weren’t so overworked, she would swear that one of the ends is an aggressive red.
“Well, that solves that question,” Jack says, as he slides his hand over the end closer to him. “It’s a…sexual aid.”
“I’m not twelve, you can call it a dildo,” she smiles.
“Fine. A double dildo. A strap on, if you will. It looks like it’s from the ultra-swank ‘personal technology’ brand, if I remember my ‘history of sexual amenities’ studies well enough, and it’s taken a likening to you, Tosh. These would cost you a mint, in their day. And you’ve got one for free. You should keep it,” Jack says.
“If the boss finds out…” Tosh starts, and she tries not to add the playful tone of sex into her voice, but Jack’s turned them all into insatiable little creatures since he returned, and has taken a particular infatuation to her, as well.
“With a little incentive, I could make sure he doesn’t,” He offers, ever the bastion of innocence.
“I’m sure you could,” Toshiko flirts, leaning forward to offer a spectacularly slutty look at her cleavage and trying not to look like the silliest person alive, or end up laughing at herself, “But what, exactly, does that entail?”
Jack reaches out to trace a finger over the swell of one breast, more erotic than it really should be, and looks up at her. “I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement. Perhaps you using that little gift on me, hmm?”
Tosh has always been aware that Jack really does fancy anything with a pulse, and is much more of a sexual butterfly than even he would like to admit. It doesn’t make very much of a difference who’s penetrating whom, as far as Toshiko’s genuinely concerned, but it doesn’t make it any less weird on the surface that her boss is asking her to fuck him.
Well, that kind of sounded less weird as the words finally came to mind, really.
Toshiko bites the inside of her lip, and readjusts her glasses. She feels a bit like a vamp, a regular day Bettie Page, or a less Wasp-y Marylin Monroe, whichever. “I’m sure that can be arranged. With terms, and conditions, of course.”
Jack sits backward, like he’s debating the pros and cons of this as if it’s a genuine scenario instead of just haphazard foreplay for a whole lot of fucking, and eventually reaches a decision. “You name yours and I’ll name mine.”
Gwen and Owen walk back into the hub, and Toshiko sits up, as awkward as she can manage as they chase past. After they’re safe away from sight, she licks her lips and mouths ‘deal’. Jack smiles, and slides the box back to her across the small table. She takes it, and slides it into her bag, turning back to her computers and returning to the shell she’s got around herself. Rather comfortable, that awkwardness has become.
Jack’s night off means dinner at a nice restaurant, where they discuss absolutely nothing because they live in each other’s back pockets, and there’s no reason why they should be discussing the weather or how far down the rabbit hole that differential equation has dumped her or whether or not he’s finished the third Mensa sudoku book Ianto’s given him this month. None of this matters.
What matters is how Jack crowds around her the moment they sink into her flat, leading her face by a hand under the chin, lips against lips, soft as he lays her down. He knows her apartment better than her at times, she thinks, and so she lets him undo her hair from her messy bun, and lets him roll the condom onto himself, pressing into her, the two of them still half-dressed. It’s messy and sickly harlequin passionate, his hand twisted in her hair, her hips working so hard that she can barely even breathe, given the fact that a huge belt is still straddling her stomach, a relic from a too-conservative outfit for a surely slow day. It’s over too quick, a quench of thirst, a release of tension that makes sure that the rest of the night can wander on its own without the constraint of need.
And besides, Jack Harkness using one singular condom in the time of one sexual ordeal means either orgasm denial or time restraints, and Toshiko’s been buying 45-packs ever since she learned that lesson first hand.
His fingers slide into her, and he coaxes her mouth open, slipping through with a hint of tongue, and she lays there paralyzed over his quick fingers passing slowly, achingly over her clit. A flick of a nail, and she’s shaking, and with a little steady attention he has her in pieces on her bed, like he’s making up for acres of sexual attention that Tosh never got from Owen, from Mary, and from anyone and everyone else.
“I trained to be a courtesan, once,” Jack points out, nonchalantly.
“That how you knew the,” she licks her lips and bears down into the sheets of her bed like she’s trying to squirm away from the oddest thing that has ever happened to her, strangely enough, “the history of sexual amenities, Mr. I’m-from-the-past-and-the-future-and-history-is-a-mere-facet-of-your-imagination-and-silly-labels or something like that?”
“You can talk? Learning fast, aren’t you?” Jack says, like he’s a bit surprised about it, and lets his finger grind down harder, two off the other hand sinking into her, curling up to stroke softly at her g-spot like he’s teaching a class on her. She convulses, toes curling as her eyes melt closed. “Yes, that’s how I knew, smartass. Anyway, I didn’t get very far in that particular career path. Something about all my clients never wanting to leave my quarters, I believe.”
“Isn’t that the point?” Tosh groans, stealing a kiss. Jack pulls the fingers from her to taste her, fingers grazing his tongue in ways that are so sensual, so sexy it makes Tosh want to say ‘teach me how to do that’ even though her mouth can’t form the words. She just moans instead, and presses her lips to his neck.
“My madam didn’t like it,” he teases. Quick kisses around her breasts lead to a slick tongue pressing against her vulva, lips sucking at her clit until she’s in a daze over that alone. Fingers hold her open for a tongue that can push into her, skilled enough to rip an orgasm that stalls and starts all over again with his head between her thighs. She rides it out with him, holding onto his free hand with one of hers.
“How any human cannot like something like this is beyond me,” She sighs. “Then again, most parts of you are beyond me, aren’t they?”
“You know a lot more than a lot of people do,” Jack says, matter of factly. “Finished that courtesan job and didn’t really get much out of it. Most of my clients didn’t seek a good fucking and some intellectual pillow-talk thereafter the way that you and others have.”
“Ianto, you mean,” She asks.
“And others,” He says, sagely, looking up at her, head resting on her thighs, lips glossed with her and it’s the hottest thing she’s ever witnessed.
Time for a quick change of subject, and a little more fun. “Almost up for another round?”
“With you? I’m insatiable,” he smiles, ever the flirt, even in times where his voice belies him, his eyes show wisdom of the stars, and even his hushed whispers of the wonders he’s seen don’t seem to resonate unless she’s alone with him. She’s his confidante, even if he shares her bed at his own whim. She thinks he’s the most solid thing she has in her life.
And then he prepares himself with another rubber, turns her over and lets her slip down over him. The world simply narrows to their bodies after that.
Toshiko used to think that Jack was a shallow pig, when he first hired her. He’d stare at her, in the same way he stared rather lecherously at Ianto and at Suzie and at even Owen, crazy as it sounds. Somewhere between the Cybermen and Gwen Cooper that she realized he was watching, not staring, and that there was a difference between the two that somehow meant more to Jack than it would to anyone else.
“We’re having a late morning,” Jack insists before they go to bed, “we still haven’t gotten to our arrangement, yet, and it would be a shame if I had to let the boss find out after all.”
“Good,” she smiles, completely satisfied. Jack’s not a simple lover, but he’s good at seeking out what needs to be done instead of creating the same experience every time. She arches into his ribs, and he smiles, watching as she falls asleep.
“I want you to fuck me in daylight. Windows open, light everywhere,” he comments, playing with her hair, and as she falls asleep he starts whispering lullabies into her ear in different languages. French first, then Portuguese, and then languages that make no sense to her and she doesn’t know why.
In the morning, she sighs, body deliciously aching, completely calm. Jack shoves a cup of tea into her hand when she sits up to see that it’s 5:00. He kisses her softly, tongue taking kitten-licks at her lips until they open and she can feel the first lurid slide of tongue to tongue in place.
“Can we boil it?” She asks.
“Hmm?” He responds, looking over at her again from the morning paper.
“The…ultra swank strap-on,” She stops and laughs at that. “Can we call it the USSO for short?”
“You can call it anything you want to, honey,” He says, domestically. She giggles at that, too. “I suppose you can boil it. Why?”
“Because I know nothing with the potential for barnacles is going anywhere near my bits, thank you very much,” She says, prim as ever and he laughs, picking up the metal containment box from the side of the dresser.
“Good point. I’ll go boil some water,” He nods, gets to his feet and begins to walk off.
Toshiko’s naked and on the sofa, watching the morning news when she hears Jack throwing the boiled water out of the pot, and letting the toy sit. He brings in a tray with the oddest looking tea-service she’s ever seen: condoms of all sorts, lube, towels, a cock ring, and the brushed metal teapot that has the rest of the tea in it. She smiles at him, kissing him softly and yawning as he slides her legs open a little for the sake of it.
The dildo is sitting in a tea towel, and he’s careful not to pick it up with his own hands until Toshiko lets her hand run across the top of one of the ends. It changes color almost automatically, and it’s still warm when jack takes it into his hands.
A few guarded licks and a little lube makes sure that she’s ready. He splays her open with two split fingers, and he picks up one of the ends, the one that’s got the curve like it’s meant for a specific wearer, and watches her as it slides in. It feels snug inside her, squishy but dense with bubbled holes and points of stimulation everywhere that counts to her, clit and G and maybe even the brush of fullness against her cervix. Jack looks down at her, at the piece protruding from on top of her pelvis and smiles like the sight will get him going every time he even remotely looks at her. It’s a bit of a rush seeing him act this way to her, no longer just flirting but a look of mouth-watering need. He runs his lips along her breasts, and leans up against her.
“I want to suck your cock,” he whispers like it’s a secret and for all she cares, it is. He grasps the end of the toy that’s sitting on her lap and pulls it roughly, like he’s giving her a handjob and it tugs just right inside her, like she can feel every pressure point and intense stroke, her legs sliding closed just a little before Jack takes the head and slides his mouth down over it.
She can’t feel it, no amount of alien technology that gets pulled out of the Cardiff Bay will be able to make her feel like she has a real penis. Probably for the best, Tosh thinks to herself, looking down at Jack’s mouth wrap around space-age material fashioned in the shape of a generous penis. If she found technology that could actually give her the ability to feel like she’d had a penis, she’d probably give Owen a run for his money in the ‘asshole’ department.
“You feel that?” Jack asks before opening his mouth to sink farther down on her cock.
She sits up a bit, sliding her hand into his hair. “Not really. No. Shame, really. You look so good doing it.”
Sure, it’s really challenging to even remotely look away from your boss sucking your fake dick. He’s really good at it, at eye contact and the hungry little noises and even grunting through taking it down to the base, letting it pop over and over again in his throat before pulling it free. He keeps a leisurely hand on her cock, and sits with her on the sofa, using his free hand to sneak a sip of her tea.
“Fuck me?” He asks, just a little coy, and sits back to open his legs. “I’m ready for you, you don’t even have to…”
Fuck that, she thinks, and reaches for lube and a condom. A little lube on her fingers, and there’s a cautious finger as she flicks at his entrance before sliding two in with no resistance. She leans over, kissing him, and pulls out to return with three. His head falls back, body twisting in the sunlight.
“Please?” He asks, and she grins down at him, kissing him softly again.
“God forbid I ever make you wait or beg, Harkness,” She says good naturedly, ripping at the condom packet and spreading the rubber down his end of the dildo. “You think you’re good and ready for me?”
“I know I am.” He smiles, and when she drags his legs open and over her shoulders to push down into him. Jack arches under her, like a curious little thing, and uses his legs to pull her down for another kiss. He writhes, needy for it, and she pistons her hips once.
“There’s…” He gasps, and she giggles at him because she’s never seen him in this state of pleasure, like all that Mr. Mystery veneer has melted away. “Something on the…oh god right there, Tosh.”
“Where?” she teases, and when she drives in hard and just right, they’re both crying out from it, from friction and being so fucking filled. She clenches down and starts pushing in briskly, bending down to kiss at his neck as he lets her pulse into him without a second thought.
He groans her name like he’s her captive begging for mercy, and it just makes her want to do this even more, making her rock all the way in and fall back out, until she’s stolen his words and she’s eating away at his screams. It’s a little scary, she admits, how tender Jack’s kisses feel as he gets closer to his orgasm.
It’s hard not to pay attention to herself, because she’s steady on her way to orgasm, too. She’s rippling, wading back and forth into what could easily be considered coming, hips coming too close to stilling inside Jack so she can come, nodes pressing down on her clit. Her pace is harried because she’s full too, getting fucked with every jolt, every push of Jack’s hips to hers. It has to end.
“I want to see you, Captain,” She says, untangling herself from his legs, to sit back, easing her pace. “Wanna see you come. Plain daylight, right here on my couch. Drinking tea at Eight AM on a cool Thursday morning. Wanna see what you look like.”
“Oh?” He asks, and hisses when she grazes across undoubtedly his prostate again. She takes his hand and wraps it around his cock, urging in long strokes. “Fuck me.”
She keeps moving, arching into his hand when he captures one of her breasts and finally reaches up to pull at her lips, closed butterfly kisses and then lips that fall away as his head rolls back and he comes, torso to torso as he shakes through his orgasm. He slams back down onto her, biting at her lips while writhing on her cock and slamming her end into her. It’s too much stimulation to all of her senses, and soon she’s shaking in his arms, as well, body humming with serenity and she hasn’t come that hard and for that long since August of last year, and that was with a vibrator she broke twenty minutes after, trying to get the same high.
“I’m going to want that a lot more, and you know it,” he grins.
She does.
They do it again, and then a third time before they get up and walk away from each other. They don’t make it into the hub until noon, Toshiko with blush on her cheeks and Jack looking considerably well-fucked, coffee and sandwiches and the occasional peck on the lips. Ianto, Gwen, and Owen look at them like they know, but it doesn’t make much of a difference.
“So,” Jack starts as he sees Tosh standing in the hallway with the holding cells, late in the afternoon, “what’s a man got to do to get some more of that this weekend?”
Toshiko looks up at him, startled, and melts back into the person she becomes when she flirts with him.
“Well, and here I thought I was going to be sleeping in on this Saturday morning, but I think you on your knees on my bed, pleading for me might be even better, Captain,” She smiles, turning around.
“Hmm,” Jack plays along with her. “Saturday morning might be bad for me. How about Saturday afternoon. You can fuck me on top of your roof, this time.”
“Well, I do like the sound of that,” She flirts, pulling out her PDA. “And what, may I ask, will keep you out of my bed Saturday morning?”
“A Miss Martha Jones is coming to town,” Jack says, happily.
“Hmm,” Toshiko says, noncommittally. “She can come too, if it suits your fancy.”
“A threesome already?” Jack looks surprised, leaning one hip against the glass of the cell they’re looking into. “Am I beginning to rub off on you, Toshiko Sato?”
“Beginning?” She chuckles, turning to take a reading. “You can rub off on me any time you’d like, Jack.”
“That was the cheesiest line ever,” he grins. “I love it when you talk cheesy to me.”
“And here I only thought you liked me for my intellectually stimulating pillow conversation, Jack,” She says. Jack takes a good long look at her, and she smiles. He swipes a hand over the line of her chin, and walks away, back to being the hero, back to saving the day. She stays, taking her readings, and tries not to think forward to Saturday afternoon.
And meeting Martha Jones, of course. Tosh wonders if they'll get along, and if she'll be able to part her thighs and dive in with the same way that Jack dived into her. And even if she doesn't, she'll have Jack.
When she thinks about it, that's a lot.
Fandom: Torchwood (het)
Pairing: Jack/Toshiko, allusions to Jack/Toshiko/Martha
Rating: NC-17.
Warning: ...Pegging. Perhaps a OOC for Tosh, if you're thinking she can't be anything other than mousy.
Word Count: 3360
AN: Written for the Porn Battle, with the prompt 'daylight'. It kind of got a bit out of hand, and by a bit I mean really.
Once, while drudging for a thirty-second century pulse object in Cardiff Bay, Toshiko finds a squishy object, with a hard core that takes a liking to her. If she allows her mind to wander, she’d say it looks like two phallic objects on a curved mount to each other in an awkward angle. When she touches it, both sides elongate, plump, and learn to match her skin tone.
So Toshiko does what she’s always done when she finds something that takes a likening to her especially ever since Mary gave her that pendant. She takes it to Jack.
Jack holds it up, nudging at it, and when it doesn’t change the way it does, she puts her hand on it, and there it is, fleshy and soft and realistic and if she weren’t so overworked, she would swear that one of the ends is an aggressive red.
“Well, that solves that question,” Jack says, as he slides his hand over the end closer to him. “It’s a…sexual aid.”
“I’m not twelve, you can call it a dildo,” she smiles.
“Fine. A double dildo. A strap on, if you will. It looks like it’s from the ultra-swank ‘personal technology’ brand, if I remember my ‘history of sexual amenities’ studies well enough, and it’s taken a likening to you, Tosh. These would cost you a mint, in their day. And you’ve got one for free. You should keep it,” Jack says.
“If the boss finds out…” Tosh starts, and she tries not to add the playful tone of sex into her voice, but Jack’s turned them all into insatiable little creatures since he returned, and has taken a particular infatuation to her, as well.
“With a little incentive, I could make sure he doesn’t,” He offers, ever the bastion of innocence.
“I’m sure you could,” Toshiko flirts, leaning forward to offer a spectacularly slutty look at her cleavage and trying not to look like the silliest person alive, or end up laughing at herself, “But what, exactly, does that entail?”
Jack reaches out to trace a finger over the swell of one breast, more erotic than it really should be, and looks up at her. “I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement. Perhaps you using that little gift on me, hmm?”
Tosh has always been aware that Jack really does fancy anything with a pulse, and is much more of a sexual butterfly than even he would like to admit. It doesn’t make very much of a difference who’s penetrating whom, as far as Toshiko’s genuinely concerned, but it doesn’t make it any less weird on the surface that her boss is asking her to fuck him.
Well, that kind of sounded less weird as the words finally came to mind, really.
Toshiko bites the inside of her lip, and readjusts her glasses. She feels a bit like a vamp, a regular day Bettie Page, or a less Wasp-y Marylin Monroe, whichever. “I’m sure that can be arranged. With terms, and conditions, of course.”
Jack sits backward, like he’s debating the pros and cons of this as if it’s a genuine scenario instead of just haphazard foreplay for a whole lot of fucking, and eventually reaches a decision. “You name yours and I’ll name mine.”
Gwen and Owen walk back into the hub, and Toshiko sits up, as awkward as she can manage as they chase past. After they’re safe away from sight, she licks her lips and mouths ‘deal’. Jack smiles, and slides the box back to her across the small table. She takes it, and slides it into her bag, turning back to her computers and returning to the shell she’s got around herself. Rather comfortable, that awkwardness has become.
Jack’s night off means dinner at a nice restaurant, where they discuss absolutely nothing because they live in each other’s back pockets, and there’s no reason why they should be discussing the weather or how far down the rabbit hole that differential equation has dumped her or whether or not he’s finished the third Mensa sudoku book Ianto’s given him this month. None of this matters.
What matters is how Jack crowds around her the moment they sink into her flat, leading her face by a hand under the chin, lips against lips, soft as he lays her down. He knows her apartment better than her at times, she thinks, and so she lets him undo her hair from her messy bun, and lets him roll the condom onto himself, pressing into her, the two of them still half-dressed. It’s messy and sickly harlequin passionate, his hand twisted in her hair, her hips working so hard that she can barely even breathe, given the fact that a huge belt is still straddling her stomach, a relic from a too-conservative outfit for a surely slow day. It’s over too quick, a quench of thirst, a release of tension that makes sure that the rest of the night can wander on its own without the constraint of need.
And besides, Jack Harkness using one singular condom in the time of one sexual ordeal means either orgasm denial or time restraints, and Toshiko’s been buying 45-packs ever since she learned that lesson first hand.
His fingers slide into her, and he coaxes her mouth open, slipping through with a hint of tongue, and she lays there paralyzed over his quick fingers passing slowly, achingly over her clit. A flick of a nail, and she’s shaking, and with a little steady attention he has her in pieces on her bed, like he’s making up for acres of sexual attention that Tosh never got from Owen, from Mary, and from anyone and everyone else.
“I trained to be a courtesan, once,” Jack points out, nonchalantly.
“That how you knew the,” she licks her lips and bears down into the sheets of her bed like she’s trying to squirm away from the oddest thing that has ever happened to her, strangely enough, “the history of sexual amenities, Mr. I’m-from-the-past-and-the-future-and-history-is-a-mere-facet-of-your-imagination-and-silly-labels or something like that?”
“You can talk? Learning fast, aren’t you?” Jack says, like he’s a bit surprised about it, and lets his finger grind down harder, two off the other hand sinking into her, curling up to stroke softly at her g-spot like he’s teaching a class on her. She convulses, toes curling as her eyes melt closed. “Yes, that’s how I knew, smartass. Anyway, I didn’t get very far in that particular career path. Something about all my clients never wanting to leave my quarters, I believe.”
“Isn’t that the point?” Tosh groans, stealing a kiss. Jack pulls the fingers from her to taste her, fingers grazing his tongue in ways that are so sensual, so sexy it makes Tosh want to say ‘teach me how to do that’ even though her mouth can’t form the words. She just moans instead, and presses her lips to his neck.
“My madam didn’t like it,” he teases. Quick kisses around her breasts lead to a slick tongue pressing against her vulva, lips sucking at her clit until she’s in a daze over that alone. Fingers hold her open for a tongue that can push into her, skilled enough to rip an orgasm that stalls and starts all over again with his head between her thighs. She rides it out with him, holding onto his free hand with one of hers.
“How any human cannot like something like this is beyond me,” She sighs. “Then again, most parts of you are beyond me, aren’t they?”
“You know a lot more than a lot of people do,” Jack says, matter of factly. “Finished that courtesan job and didn’t really get much out of it. Most of my clients didn’t seek a good fucking and some intellectual pillow-talk thereafter the way that you and others have.”
“Ianto, you mean,” She asks.
“And others,” He says, sagely, looking up at her, head resting on her thighs, lips glossed with her and it’s the hottest thing she’s ever witnessed.
Time for a quick change of subject, and a little more fun. “Almost up for another round?”
“With you? I’m insatiable,” he smiles, ever the flirt, even in times where his voice belies him, his eyes show wisdom of the stars, and even his hushed whispers of the wonders he’s seen don’t seem to resonate unless she’s alone with him. She’s his confidante, even if he shares her bed at his own whim. She thinks he’s the most solid thing she has in her life.
And then he prepares himself with another rubber, turns her over and lets her slip down over him. The world simply narrows to their bodies after that.
Toshiko used to think that Jack was a shallow pig, when he first hired her. He’d stare at her, in the same way he stared rather lecherously at Ianto and at Suzie and at even Owen, crazy as it sounds. Somewhere between the Cybermen and Gwen Cooper that she realized he was watching, not staring, and that there was a difference between the two that somehow meant more to Jack than it would to anyone else.
“We’re having a late morning,” Jack insists before they go to bed, “we still haven’t gotten to our arrangement, yet, and it would be a shame if I had to let the boss find out after all.”
“Good,” she smiles, completely satisfied. Jack’s not a simple lover, but he’s good at seeking out what needs to be done instead of creating the same experience every time. She arches into his ribs, and he smiles, watching as she falls asleep.
“I want you to fuck me in daylight. Windows open, light everywhere,” he comments, playing with her hair, and as she falls asleep he starts whispering lullabies into her ear in different languages. French first, then Portuguese, and then languages that make no sense to her and she doesn’t know why.
In the morning, she sighs, body deliciously aching, completely calm. Jack shoves a cup of tea into her hand when she sits up to see that it’s 5:00. He kisses her softly, tongue taking kitten-licks at her lips until they open and she can feel the first lurid slide of tongue to tongue in place.
“Can we boil it?” She asks.
“Hmm?” He responds, looking over at her again from the morning paper.
“The…ultra swank strap-on,” She stops and laughs at that. “Can we call it the USSO for short?”
“You can call it anything you want to, honey,” He says, domestically. She giggles at that, too. “I suppose you can boil it. Why?”
“Because I know nothing with the potential for barnacles is going anywhere near my bits, thank you very much,” She says, prim as ever and he laughs, picking up the metal containment box from the side of the dresser.
“Good point. I’ll go boil some water,” He nods, gets to his feet and begins to walk off.
Toshiko’s naked and on the sofa, watching the morning news when she hears Jack throwing the boiled water out of the pot, and letting the toy sit. He brings in a tray with the oddest looking tea-service she’s ever seen: condoms of all sorts, lube, towels, a cock ring, and the brushed metal teapot that has the rest of the tea in it. She smiles at him, kissing him softly and yawning as he slides her legs open a little for the sake of it.
The dildo is sitting in a tea towel, and he’s careful not to pick it up with his own hands until Toshiko lets her hand run across the top of one of the ends. It changes color almost automatically, and it’s still warm when jack takes it into his hands.
A few guarded licks and a little lube makes sure that she’s ready. He splays her open with two split fingers, and he picks up one of the ends, the one that’s got the curve like it’s meant for a specific wearer, and watches her as it slides in. It feels snug inside her, squishy but dense with bubbled holes and points of stimulation everywhere that counts to her, clit and G and maybe even the brush of fullness against her cervix. Jack looks down at her, at the piece protruding from on top of her pelvis and smiles like the sight will get him going every time he even remotely looks at her. It’s a bit of a rush seeing him act this way to her, no longer just flirting but a look of mouth-watering need. He runs his lips along her breasts, and leans up against her.
“I want to suck your cock,” he whispers like it’s a secret and for all she cares, it is. He grasps the end of the toy that’s sitting on her lap and pulls it roughly, like he’s giving her a handjob and it tugs just right inside her, like she can feel every pressure point and intense stroke, her legs sliding closed just a little before Jack takes the head and slides his mouth down over it.
She can’t feel it, no amount of alien technology that gets pulled out of the Cardiff Bay will be able to make her feel like she has a real penis. Probably for the best, Tosh thinks to herself, looking down at Jack’s mouth wrap around space-age material fashioned in the shape of a generous penis. If she found technology that could actually give her the ability to feel like she’d had a penis, she’d probably give Owen a run for his money in the ‘asshole’ department.
“You feel that?” Jack asks before opening his mouth to sink farther down on her cock.
She sits up a bit, sliding her hand into his hair. “Not really. No. Shame, really. You look so good doing it.”
Sure, it’s really challenging to even remotely look away from your boss sucking your fake dick. He’s really good at it, at eye contact and the hungry little noises and even grunting through taking it down to the base, letting it pop over and over again in his throat before pulling it free. He keeps a leisurely hand on her cock, and sits with her on the sofa, using his free hand to sneak a sip of her tea.
“Fuck me?” He asks, just a little coy, and sits back to open his legs. “I’m ready for you, you don’t even have to…”
Fuck that, she thinks, and reaches for lube and a condom. A little lube on her fingers, and there’s a cautious finger as she flicks at his entrance before sliding two in with no resistance. She leans over, kissing him, and pulls out to return with three. His head falls back, body twisting in the sunlight.
“Please?” He asks, and she grins down at him, kissing him softly again.
“God forbid I ever make you wait or beg, Harkness,” She says good naturedly, ripping at the condom packet and spreading the rubber down his end of the dildo. “You think you’re good and ready for me?”
“I know I am.” He smiles, and when she drags his legs open and over her shoulders to push down into him. Jack arches under her, like a curious little thing, and uses his legs to pull her down for another kiss. He writhes, needy for it, and she pistons her hips once.
“There’s…” He gasps, and she giggles at him because she’s never seen him in this state of pleasure, like all that Mr. Mystery veneer has melted away. “Something on the…oh god right there, Tosh.”
“Where?” she teases, and when she drives in hard and just right, they’re both crying out from it, from friction and being so fucking filled. She clenches down and starts pushing in briskly, bending down to kiss at his neck as he lets her pulse into him without a second thought.
He groans her name like he’s her captive begging for mercy, and it just makes her want to do this even more, making her rock all the way in and fall back out, until she’s stolen his words and she’s eating away at his screams. It’s a little scary, she admits, how tender Jack’s kisses feel as he gets closer to his orgasm.
It’s hard not to pay attention to herself, because she’s steady on her way to orgasm, too. She’s rippling, wading back and forth into what could easily be considered coming, hips coming too close to stilling inside Jack so she can come, nodes pressing down on her clit. Her pace is harried because she’s full too, getting fucked with every jolt, every push of Jack’s hips to hers. It has to end.
“I want to see you, Captain,” She says, untangling herself from his legs, to sit back, easing her pace. “Wanna see you come. Plain daylight, right here on my couch. Drinking tea at Eight AM on a cool Thursday morning. Wanna see what you look like.”
“Oh?” He asks, and hisses when she grazes across undoubtedly his prostate again. She takes his hand and wraps it around his cock, urging in long strokes. “Fuck me.”
She keeps moving, arching into his hand when he captures one of her breasts and finally reaches up to pull at her lips, closed butterfly kisses and then lips that fall away as his head rolls back and he comes, torso to torso as he shakes through his orgasm. He slams back down onto her, biting at her lips while writhing on her cock and slamming her end into her. It’s too much stimulation to all of her senses, and soon she’s shaking in his arms, as well, body humming with serenity and she hasn’t come that hard and for that long since August of last year, and that was with a vibrator she broke twenty minutes after, trying to get the same high.
“I’m going to want that a lot more, and you know it,” he grins.
She does.
They do it again, and then a third time before they get up and walk away from each other. They don’t make it into the hub until noon, Toshiko with blush on her cheeks and Jack looking considerably well-fucked, coffee and sandwiches and the occasional peck on the lips. Ianto, Gwen, and Owen look at them like they know, but it doesn’t make much of a difference.
“So,” Jack starts as he sees Tosh standing in the hallway with the holding cells, late in the afternoon, “what’s a man got to do to get some more of that this weekend?”
Toshiko looks up at him, startled, and melts back into the person she becomes when she flirts with him.
“Well, and here I thought I was going to be sleeping in on this Saturday morning, but I think you on your knees on my bed, pleading for me might be even better, Captain,” She smiles, turning around.
“Hmm,” Jack plays along with her. “Saturday morning might be bad for me. How about Saturday afternoon. You can fuck me on top of your roof, this time.”
“Well, I do like the sound of that,” She flirts, pulling out her PDA. “And what, may I ask, will keep you out of my bed Saturday morning?”
“A Miss Martha Jones is coming to town,” Jack says, happily.
“Hmm,” Toshiko says, noncommittally. “She can come too, if it suits your fancy.”
“A threesome already?” Jack looks surprised, leaning one hip against the glass of the cell they’re looking into. “Am I beginning to rub off on you, Toshiko Sato?”
“Beginning?” She chuckles, turning to take a reading. “You can rub off on me any time you’d like, Jack.”
“That was the cheesiest line ever,” he grins. “I love it when you talk cheesy to me.”
“And here I only thought you liked me for my intellectually stimulating pillow conversation, Jack,” She says. Jack takes a good long look at her, and she smiles. He swipes a hand over the line of her chin, and walks away, back to being the hero, back to saving the day. She stays, taking her readings, and tries not to think forward to Saturday afternoon.
And meeting Martha Jones, of course. Tosh wonders if they'll get along, and if she'll be able to part her thighs and dive in with the same way that Jack dived into her. And even if she doesn't, she'll have Jack.
When she thinks about it, that's a lot.