Five Things (Ashes to Ashes, Twitch City, Torchwood, Slings and Arrows)
sansets wanted: 5 ways Ellen, Geoffrey and Oliver made polyamory work!
1- Timeshare. They made a chart- Oliver was surprisingly good at organising them into diagrams, tables, permutations. On the Monday, he and Oliver had sex, the Tuesday, Ellen and Oliver, Wednesday, he slept with Ellen, Thursday they shared the bed, all three of them, Friday was rehearsals, Saturday anything went and Sunday was any sex act within a period of 20 minutes.
The next week, the chart got fucked.
2- They really don’t. Or try not to. Oliver slept with Darren Nichols, of all people, and Anna walked in on him and Geoffrey fighting and sent him to his room. Ellen stayed gloriously aloof from all of this, and announced she was pregnant at the dress rehearsal for Faustus, and then announced she didn’t have a clue who the father was.
They made it work for the sake of whoever’s child Ellen was currently with.
3- Geoffrey punched Oliver. Ellen made him give Oliver a blowjob as an apology, and withheld sex until he did. Then she watched, leaning back in Oliver’s chair, legs splayed, looking at them both as if they were playing the scene just for her. They performed to the audience, at first, and then to each other. Ellen was worrying good at mind-games. Better than Oliver-
Geoffrey told him that, and earned himself a punch and a rimjob. Definitely better than Oliver.
4- They were drunk, and the curtain had gone down, and they owned the fucking world. Ellen looked at him with shining surprise when he told her he wanted babies, and Oliver hung back a little, petulant, but exuberant. He kissed him on the mouth, took both their hands and led them back to their digs.
5- Oliver was dead. Didn’t stop him from being an annoying fucking ghost. “She likes using her nails,” Oliver remarked, providing a colour commentary as they fuck, as Ellen closed her eyes and Geoffrey felt like his heart would burst and his mind break. “The spot on her left collarbone, with the freckle- suck it, she goes wild,” and he did, and she did, clenching around him, gasping. He felt Oliver now, breath on his shoulderblades, hand on his cock and then her clit, and she bucked, whimpered, came.
He came with Oliver’s words in one ear, Ellen’s gasps in the other.
ultharkittywanted: Five times Owen got his comeuppance (series one Owen)
1- Jack’s throwing the spray from hand to hand, smiling thinly. Not the megawatt smile, not the smile because you’re crying inside smile, but a new smile. Glass, something to slide off of, showing nothing.
“See, I don’t think you know how this works.”
“I know the basics- pheremones, makes the wearer irresistible, saves on the conversation aspect, and I don’t have time for the whole dating, flowers and chocolates thing. No time for other people, remember?”
And whose fucking fault is that, you bastard?
He doesn’t say it out loud, doesn’t give an inch. They’re his monsters; Jack sees that, has to. Especially after Suzie. Jack doesn’t quite know how people work, though, takes them apart and looks bemused when they don’t go back the way they should. Poor Jack.
“Was that all? I have a job to do- you know, cleaning up after whatever mess Cooper’s left behind this time-”
He stands up, turns to leave the office. Jack hasn’t moved, just uncaps the tube, sprays it onto himself.
“This is how it works,” he- almost- snarls.
Owen can’t breathe. think. Can’t see for lust and the hissing, spitting fury of something caged. He gets in two good punches before Jack knocks him out with clinical precision. That was how it worked.
2- He’s powerless. Every time he sees her again, knows her name even- Lizzie- he’s taken back to cold stone, a girl crying out. Then he sees Morgan, knows hate and the capacity to kill, something so old and repulsive within him he hardly knows himself. He gets ratarsed; generally it works.
Jack finds him after the fourth bar, takes him back to the hub.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says, staring at a point three inches above Jack’s head.
“I know. Shots?”
3- He tells Ianto Wales are shite at Rugby. Ianto makes him attend the Wales V England match at the millennium stadium.
“Do you want to change your shirt? I brought along two, if you do.”
Ianto doesn’t smile, but Owen still wants to punch him. “Yes please,” he grits, and changes his alliance at half time, just in time to watch his new adopted team wipe the fucking floor with England. He then has to celebrate with the real Welsh people, inveterate load of wankers that they are.
He decides after the third pint that he hates Cwm Rhondda more than he hates sprouts, and that’s saying a lot.
4- Gwen is, of course, a fantastic shag. Hungry, angry and extremely curious, willing to-
Well. He doesn’t kiss and tell.
It’s not very flattering, though, when she spends the post-coital doze muttering ‘what have I done?’ and blaming herself.
Deep down, he knows she’s sleeping with him because it isn’t serious like it would be with Jack. He realises the third time it happens that he has exactly what he wanted from the pheromone spray. He isn’t sure what to do with this, with the woman who sits up in bed, hair wild, eyes wide and brimming, biting her lower lip.
He pads into the kitchen, makes her a cup of tea, realises with a vague sense of disdain that he’s turning into bloody Ianto.
5-He falls in love with a time travelling pilot, has mindblowing sex, and then loses her again. It’s…
Frankly, it’s getting pretty fucking old at this point.
magic_at_mungos wanted 5 things Gene wanted to see Alex in (and more to come, no doubt *g*)
1- Suspenders. Gene’s a simple man, really. Generally, a smile is all it takes, if it’s the right smile. But there’s something about suspenders that reminds him of the school nurse, a disapproving, stern woman who never showed sympathy for anything less than near amputation, and, it turned out, had an affair with the headmaster, conducted in the sickbay and his office. She wore suspenders, big sturdy ones, with the belt at the top. The contrast between the matronly starch and the…well, on a desk? A bloody great wooden desk he’d had the cane in front of a few times-
It was compelling. Pretty bloody hot. He tells Alex this, one night, as he’s drunk and wistful. She looks at him with a smile hovering around her lips- one of those frighteningly knowledgeable smiles.
The next day, at work, she’s in a skirt. The tights she’s wearing have lines running right up the backs of them. She spends all bloody day teasing him with them, and in the end it’s in his office, with hands shaking and kisses he couldn’t have stopped even if he’d wanted to that he runs his hands right up to the space between the top of the stocking and her hip.
She drives him mad, even when she’s doing what he wants.
2- A coat. Some trousers. A nice turtleneck jumper. He isn’t sure whether he’s more worried about his blood pressure or the hypothermia risk, but she doesn’t wear enough. He can’t tell her either way.
3- The bra she wore in the vault. He’d thought he would die, and one- two- of the last things he’d have seen were the tops of those frankly magnificent tits. He sees a flash of strap, a week later, and thinks of death, and the way her hair curled when it was sweaty.
4- She’s bored. It’s a bloody boring meeting, but there’s some new protocol to be discussed, and protocol’s apparently the best bloody thing since sliced bread-
He starts looking at her so he stops thinking about Tyler. She’s picked up a pair of cuffs that had been broken in a scuffle getting someone to the cells, and she’s tracing the metal of them with her forefinger. The metal around her wrist-
He isn’t kinked. Not one of those twisted bastards who does bloody unmentionable things to sheep as a hobby. He just…appreciates beauty. He is appreciative of her wrists in cuffs and he would be appreciative of the opportunity to appreciate them somewhere other than his imagination.
He closes his eyes, shifts his coat so it covers his crotch, and lets the talk of initiatives drift over him.
5- Really, though, nothing is the best clothing for her. He unbuttons her shirt, looking down at her skin, her bra- that bra, Christ, many a happy night…-her torso. All of her. He takes a step back, looks at her some more.
“Say something,” he tells her. She’s beautiful, like a statue, but it’s when she looks confused, frowns a little, objects, that he knows it’s her. Briefly, wonderfully, he’s determined that she’ll never stop complaining, never stop reacting. Then she smiles.
“Get your kit off, then,” she says.
lamentables wanted 5 times Curtis didn't watch TV
1- A whole week of snowstorms. The phone lines and electrical cables both went down. He…made twenty flick books, out of any scraps of paper he could find, made the people move, started at different oints in the book to make a different scene-
It became an epic, the one history of the stick people of the outer reaches. Then the power came back on. He keeps the books, though. They might come in useful at some point.
2- Newbie is straddling him. He doesn’t know who he is. He gets the impression that a complete raving lunatic shouldn’t be in charge of his rehabilitation, and then the dreadful black and white flecks of static kick in.
3- Nathan turns off the TV, then stands in front of it. For the next few hours, he stares at a stain on the right knee of his slacks that looks like Dick Van Dyke’s profile.
4- Newbie’s straddling him again. This is getting old. He wishes he could get up to find the flick books.
5- Hope’s naked. Completely naked, with the control in her hand. “Lie on the couch, then,” he tells her, softly. “I want to see what you do.”
He touches her, methodically, noting every reaction, how she responds to each touch. Her left hip’s more sensitive than the right, and he gives her a line of lovebites, up her left side. The underside of her breasts are warm, soft, the skin thinner seeming, somehow. He finds out everything about her, everything she does, then looks up at her face and realises how little he knows.
“Tell me everything about yourself. I want to listen.”
So she does, so he does.
He watches the TV with the sound off as she sleeps, still naked, her feet in his lap.
mrs_laugh_track wanted: 5 times Darren Nichols swore he was giving up theater forever.
1- They did not appreciate him. They were his mentors, the people who were meant to find and nurture his greatness, and yet they didn’t see how much depth he could have given to the role.
“No, Darren, Susan’s going to play Mary. Sorry, dear, but you really are wonderful as the sheep- it’s an important role.”
2- Geoffrey sits on a barstool, a little the worse for wear. Well, completely drunk. Whichever girl he had been dating has just slapped him and left the bar. He sighs, forlorn, and looks around at the assembled actors. “What a piece of work man is,” he begins, drawing out the words for effect. They start out smiling, but their faces shift to awe as he delivers it word perfect, to an utterly silent bar. The hairs on the back of Darren’s neck stand up, and he wonders how many years it would take before he could even begin to speak like that.
He finishes, and falls off the barstool. Darren leaves before he gets set back onto his stool and praised.
3- Godspell. It drives him to drink, and being fucked by Geoffrey. And enjoying it. He decides it cannot continue, and they fight with prop swords. It’s…satisfying.
4- Oliver’s dead. He hated the fuckwitted bastard. He looks at Oliver’s face, and sees his own, resolves to change his career, his life, the world. The next day, he’s hungover, with vague recollections of having wanted to do something wonderful.
5- He gets stabbed. With a sword. The theatre is intolerable.
His arm really hurts.
More to come *snugs you all* *goes to sleep*