Fic: As like to walk on the moon. Jack/omc. pg13.
Title As like to walk on the moon.
Fandom Torchwood
Pairing Jack/omc (set way pre-series)
Rating pg13
Prompts used Forbidden Pleasures. Forest. Written for rounds-of-kink
Summary He can’t stop, neither them can. They take the risk because otherwise it feels like only being half alive. And that is no sort of life at all.
Comments are always welcome. It will take me a while to get back to people though as in an hour I'm off to a reenactment event and shall have no internet until monday night.
It’s miles from the edge of town when Jack stops the car, the moonlit forest road deserted.
Switching off the engine and lights, Jack waits a full minute, barely daring to breathe as he listens for any sound that he and his companion might not be alone.
It’s a risk every time they do this. Every time they slip away from town. Stan from his home and relatives, and himself from the watchful eye of Torchwood.
Not that Torchwood particularly care what he does as long as he’s there to help them keep the general populace ignorant of the existence of aliens.
It’s a risk all the same though as Jack knows that prison or an enforced stay in a mental asylum would await them if they’re ever caught. He knows it would break Stan, that he’d never survive the harsh treatment of either institution. He doesn't worry for himself, he's lived through worse. And honestly Torchwood would probably step in, after all they wouldn't want the public knowing about him immortality.
Yet he can’t stop, neither them can. They take the risk because otherwise it feels like only being half alive. And that is no sort of life at all.
These summer nights spent in the forest are something that Jack has come to treasure. The soft night air around him, Stan’s warm skin against his, the feel of strong, sure hands on his body.
Soon it will all be over. War is coming. Another year or so and Britain will be drawn into the largest war the Earth has yet known.
They’ll finish what they have then. They’ll have to. Jack knows that he’ll be called back up, and that unless Stan gets into a reserve occupation he’ll be drafted as well. There’s no real chance that they’ll be able to serve together, and even if by some miracle they did they would never be able to have what they have now.
No. The war will part them and by the time it’s finally over, too much time will have passed for them start again. Stan will age, Jack will not, and society will still not be ready for them.
Tonight’s not the time to let societies prejudices get in the way though. Not when they have so very little of it to spend together.
Now that they are sure they’re alone they kiss, Jack leans across the seat to Stan, hands tangling in his hair.
It’s been three weeks since they last found the opportunity to spend time together like this, and if Stan’s enthusiasm is anything to go by he’s been missing this just as much as Jack.
Breathless and more than a little aroused Stan gets out of the car, saying “Race you.”
Stopping only to grab a blanket from the back seat, Jack follows him into the woods.
It only takes a few minutes to find Stan, stood in a clearing waiting for him, the tall trees shielding them on all sides.
This clearing in the woods with the moonlight spilling down through the leaves is their place. A place where nothing can touch them, where they are free and they can both forget just for a while what their lives are like outside this place.
There is something about the fear of being caught, the knowledge that he’s doing something that is forbidden that has always turned Jack on. Perhaps it’s because the whole primal fight or flight instinct is engaged that everything seems to be heightened, all the senses seeming to function far above the norm.
Clothes are shed almost frantically, a desperate need to make contact seeming to overtake them.
“One day,” Jack says, as afterwards they lay together on the old picnic blanket. “We won’t have to hide.” He wishes that just once they could truly spend the night together, that they could wake up in the same bed and enjoy a lazy morning of lovemaking.
Stan’s laughter is tinged with sadness as he nuzzles the back of Jack’s neck. “Always a such dreamer, Jack. We’d be as like to walk on the moon as have people not judge what we do.”
Jack closes his eyes, knowing that one day, if the war doesn’t take him away, Stan will get to see man take his first steps on the moon. Not that he can tell Stan that, keeping the timelines intact is more important than his own feelings. He just wishes he could tell him that people will have learnt not to judge them by then - only that would be a lie.
He won’t lie to Stan. Lies would solve very little. So he just omits the truth, as it’s a truth that he shouldn’t know and it's one that Stan would be best off not knowing. He owes him that, or at least that’s the way Jack sees it. After all it’s people like Stan, and the ones before him and the ones that will surely come after, that make his life still a life rather than just an existence.
Rolling over, Jack kisses Stan again, knowing that here and now this is what matters, and damn anybody who says different.
Fandom Torchwood
Pairing Jack/omc (set way pre-series)
Rating pg13
Prompts used Forbidden Pleasures. Forest. Written for rounds-of-kink
Summary He can’t stop, neither them can. They take the risk because otherwise it feels like only being half alive. And that is no sort of life at all.
Comments are always welcome. It will take me a while to get back to people though as in an hour I'm off to a reenactment event and shall have no internet until monday night.
It’s miles from the edge of town when Jack stops the car, the moonlit forest road deserted.
Switching off the engine and lights, Jack waits a full minute, barely daring to breathe as he listens for any sound that he and his companion might not be alone.
It’s a risk every time they do this. Every time they slip away from town. Stan from his home and relatives, and himself from the watchful eye of Torchwood.
Not that Torchwood particularly care what he does as long as he’s there to help them keep the general populace ignorant of the existence of aliens.
It’s a risk all the same though as Jack knows that prison or an enforced stay in a mental asylum would await them if they’re ever caught. He knows it would break Stan, that he’d never survive the harsh treatment of either institution. He doesn't worry for himself, he's lived through worse. And honestly Torchwood would probably step in, after all they wouldn't want the public knowing about him immortality.
Yet he can’t stop, neither them can. They take the risk because otherwise it feels like only being half alive. And that is no sort of life at all.
These summer nights spent in the forest are something that Jack has come to treasure. The soft night air around him, Stan’s warm skin against his, the feel of strong, sure hands on his body.
Soon it will all be over. War is coming. Another year or so and Britain will be drawn into the largest war the Earth has yet known.
They’ll finish what they have then. They’ll have to. Jack knows that he’ll be called back up, and that unless Stan gets into a reserve occupation he’ll be drafted as well. There’s no real chance that they’ll be able to serve together, and even if by some miracle they did they would never be able to have what they have now.
No. The war will part them and by the time it’s finally over, too much time will have passed for them start again. Stan will age, Jack will not, and society will still not be ready for them.
Tonight’s not the time to let societies prejudices get in the way though. Not when they have so very little of it to spend together.
Now that they are sure they’re alone they kiss, Jack leans across the seat to Stan, hands tangling in his hair.
It’s been three weeks since they last found the opportunity to spend time together like this, and if Stan’s enthusiasm is anything to go by he’s been missing this just as much as Jack.
Breathless and more than a little aroused Stan gets out of the car, saying “Race you.”
Stopping only to grab a blanket from the back seat, Jack follows him into the woods.
It only takes a few minutes to find Stan, stood in a clearing waiting for him, the tall trees shielding them on all sides.
This clearing in the woods with the moonlight spilling down through the leaves is their place. A place where nothing can touch them, where they are free and they can both forget just for a while what their lives are like outside this place.
There is something about the fear of being caught, the knowledge that he’s doing something that is forbidden that has always turned Jack on. Perhaps it’s because the whole primal fight or flight instinct is engaged that everything seems to be heightened, all the senses seeming to function far above the norm.
Clothes are shed almost frantically, a desperate need to make contact seeming to overtake them.
“One day,” Jack says, as afterwards they lay together on the old picnic blanket. “We won’t have to hide.” He wishes that just once they could truly spend the night together, that they could wake up in the same bed and enjoy a lazy morning of lovemaking.
Stan’s laughter is tinged with sadness as he nuzzles the back of Jack’s neck. “Always a such dreamer, Jack. We’d be as like to walk on the moon as have people not judge what we do.”
Jack closes his eyes, knowing that one day, if the war doesn’t take him away, Stan will get to see man take his first steps on the moon. Not that he can tell Stan that, keeping the timelines intact is more important than his own feelings. He just wishes he could tell him that people will have learnt not to judge them by then - only that would be a lie.
He won’t lie to Stan. Lies would solve very little. So he just omits the truth, as it’s a truth that he shouldn’t know and it's one that Stan would be best off not knowing. He owes him that, or at least that’s the way Jack sees it. After all it’s people like Stan, and the ones before him and the ones that will surely come after, that make his life still a life rather than just an existence.
Rolling over, Jack kisses Stan again, knowing that here and now this is what matters, and damn anybody who says different.