ouroboros
title: ouroboros
author: phinnia
pairing: jack/himself (no, really)
rating: nc-17ish
disclaimer: a wandering minstrel i, a thing of shreds and patches. i own nothing.
author's note: tallin can be at least partly blamed for this. written for porn battle 8. Sex is best when it's with someone you love.
The talking heads back at the Time Agency would probably have his head for this, but it wasn't his fault he'd run into himself accidentally (or at least they couldn't prove it) and now that he'd gone and done it he was in a position to answer a very important question, one that he'd had for some time.
After all, if he'd run across anyone else with his kind of reputation, it's almost inevitable that he'd wonder what they were like in bed. Whether the stories were true, or whether the legend was just that.
Not to mention the benefits to his own mental health and self-esteem. And the talking heads at the Time Agency were always interested in their agents' mental health and self-esteem.
Besides, who knew what would happen if he was allowed out there unchecked in his own timeline? Far better to keep himself under control and well supervised. He knows all of his own tricks better than anyone else.
Plus he has to admit (speaking as objectively as he possibly can) he looks pretty hot after two or three drinks - messy dark hair, fuzzy bedroom eyes, fantastic smile - and those dimples and that oh-so-fuckable mouth that was showing off just how fuckable it was, long slender tongue playing around the edge of the bottle like that;
And he kisses just as hard and hot as he likes, and there are familiar (but incredibly skilled) hands on his skin (tracing shoulders ribs hips chest teasing trailing down towards his cock, closes his eyes and knows just what he's about to do, but the thrill of anticipation is infinitely exponential and he's gripping, rubbing, panting and everything is goddamn perfect). Okay, he's not exactly surprised when the zipper goes down, but those are just the breaks. Pleased, though. And somewhat gratified to know that yes, he feels damn good in his mouth, hard and thick with a slight curve, hips snapping forward, and he is incredibly good at deep-throating. He'd always suspected it, but now he had the luxury of (very) hard (and fast and increasingly desperate) evidence.
The best part wasn't actually the simultaneous orgasms (although that was an extremely close second). The best part was knowing that in five hours he'd be able to do all of this again.
The talking heads at the Time Agency could just go fuck themselves.
Maybe if they actually did things would improve around there.
author: phinnia
pairing: jack/himself (no, really)
rating: nc-17ish
disclaimer: a wandering minstrel i, a thing of shreds and patches. i own nothing.
author's note: tallin can be at least partly blamed for this. written for porn battle 8. Sex is best when it's with someone you love.
The talking heads back at the Time Agency would probably have his head for this, but it wasn't his fault he'd run into himself accidentally (or at least they couldn't prove it) and now that he'd gone and done it he was in a position to answer a very important question, one that he'd had for some time.
After all, if he'd run across anyone else with his kind of reputation, it's almost inevitable that he'd wonder what they were like in bed. Whether the stories were true, or whether the legend was just that.
Not to mention the benefits to his own mental health and self-esteem. And the talking heads at the Time Agency were always interested in their agents' mental health and self-esteem.
Besides, who knew what would happen if he was allowed out there unchecked in his own timeline? Far better to keep himself under control and well supervised. He knows all of his own tricks better than anyone else.
Plus he has to admit (speaking as objectively as he possibly can) he looks pretty hot after two or three drinks - messy dark hair, fuzzy bedroom eyes, fantastic smile - and those dimples and that oh-so-fuckable mouth that was showing off just how fuckable it was, long slender tongue playing around the edge of the bottle like that;
And he kisses just as hard and hot as he likes, and there are familiar (but incredibly skilled) hands on his skin (tracing shoulders ribs hips chest teasing trailing down towards his cock, closes his eyes and knows just what he's about to do, but the thrill of anticipation is infinitely exponential and he's gripping, rubbing, panting and everything is goddamn perfect). Okay, he's not exactly surprised when the zipper goes down, but those are just the breaks. Pleased, though. And somewhat gratified to know that yes, he feels damn good in his mouth, hard and thick with a slight curve, hips snapping forward, and he is incredibly good at deep-throating. He'd always suspected it, but now he had the luxury of (very) hard (and fast and increasingly desperate) evidence.
The best part wasn't actually the simultaneous orgasms (although that was an extremely close second). The best part was knowing that in five hours he'd be able to do all of this again.
The talking heads at the Time Agency could just go fuck themselves.
Maybe if they actually did things would improve around there.