The Porn Battle (Fourth Verse, Same as the First)
THE PORN BATTLE (FOURTH VERSE, SAME AS THE FIRST) IS A GOTo join the battle, all you need to do is pick a prompt from below (any prompt, even if it's your own) and write the porniest bit of fiction you can, or make the hottest manip or painting or vid or song. That's all folks - just one bit of steamy, panty-wetting porn. Make it as kinky or as ( Read more... )
He’d been in there for days. A minor infraction (trying to lead an armed rebellion and destroy the paradox machine) and he had ended up hanging from the walls in chains. Everything ached.
And then Owen was thrown in at his feet.
“One down,” the Master proclaimed. And then walked away in silence, which was nothing like him.
Jack said, “He’ll be back. Probably right when we’ve stopped thinking he’s coming.”
Owen just looked at him. “We were wondering where you had got to.”
“Owen.”
“And apparently you’ve been rolling around in oil. Not that surprising, since we’re talking about you, but fucking weird timing.”
He stood up, licked his thumb and rubbed it along Jack’s cheekbone. Owen stood close, looking into Jack’s eyes, and not at the grease and oil and sweat that he was really just moving around. He added the other thumb without pretext, and swept both down Jack’s cheeks and under his jaw, rubbing back and forth, working at the tension.
Jack groaned out loud when Owen wrapped his whole hands around Jack’s neck, easing them down to his shoulder blades and biceps. “Keep doing that.”
Owen paused. “I’m a real doctor, you know. None of that massage rubbish.”
“So not a whole lot of use to me right now, are you?” Jack laughed.
It was always too easy to offend Owen. Too easy to upset him and raise a dark angry flush on his pale skin. So when it didn’t come, or not properly, after Jack had expected it to, he leant forward a little. He couldn’t move much without pulling at his arms. But Owen could.
Owen walked forward that extra step that moved him from close to touching, so he was pressed tight against every part of Jack. “We really thought you were gone.”
There was a not so subtle difference between gone and dead, and Jack pulled back.
Owen forced a glare, full of pretended defiance. “Are you ever gonna forgive me? Because it’s been a really long time, Jack, and you already said…”
“It was nothing to do with…” was all Jack managed to say, too surprised to pick a better argument. But whatever Owen filled in on the end of the sentence, it provoked him into motion. He stepped back towards Jack and reached his hand inside the filthy shirt, searching for skin.
“I would do, you know, the other way,” Owen said, “but it’d end up with you taking all the weight, and I’ve no particular desire to watch you dislocate something.”
Jack grinned. “That your medical opinion?”
Dropping to his knees was the only answer Owen gave. His mouth was warm and his hands were cool on Jack’s thighs. He breathed lightly over the head of Jack’s cock. His hands slid up to cup Jack’s ass before taking him into his mouth. It was frustrating not being able to touch Owen back, or to show some kind of appreciation for the dedicated way Owen was attempting to suck Jack’s brain out through his cock. Some acknowledgement other than moaning and tilting his head back and his hips forward. Owen’s hands wandered up and settled at the small of Jack’s back. He swallowed Jack deeper in one smooth motion and the vibrations deep in his throat were the tipping point.
Owen swallowed, coughed, and leant his head on Jack. “Didn’t want you to get even more mucky,” he explained.
There was a noise at the door, Jack started to speak, there was a flash, a shout, and Owen was lying dead at his feet.
“Buck up,” the Master said. “This was just round one. You liked him least anyway.” He poked Owen’s corpse with his toe. “He was all scrawny and insubordinate. Not a lot of use really.” He mock-pouted at Jack. “Oh be like that then.”
Jack didn’t have much range of movement but he thought, if he tried, he could swing hard enough to break the bastard’s neck. He tried - there was a flash and a sizzle.
*
The next time he sees Owen alive (too many deaths later) he still can’t move. It has been too long, and they are all staring. Owen ends up being the last to him.
Jack touches Owen’s cheek. “I’m sorry. And it isn’t true.”
Owen cannot have the faintest idea what Jack is talking about so he tilts his head (but not away from Jack’s touch) and grins. “Okay.”
“You don’t even know…”
“Nope. Buy me a beer and tell us all about it.”
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