The One
Title: The One
Author: Timelordshines
Characters: Real_Jack
Rating: 15
Words: 513
Spoilers: S1E12
Disclaimer: Characters belong to RTD and the BBC - I’m just borrowing them.
Written for love_bingo prompt "Mister Right"
All this time, trying to find “Miss Right”.
Nancy is a sweet girl, but she’s not the one. She’s not what keeps me fighting. I fight because it is the right thing to do. To keep the world safe, to try and make it a better place where everyone can be free to be themselves with no recriminations. A world where people don’t have to hide just because they believe in a different God, or even the same God but worship him in a different way. A world where everyone is treated equally no matter what their creed, colour or race. A world where all men truly are equal.
I hear the men around me talking of their sweethearts back home. The girls they love but left to come here and fight the Nazis to keep their girls, and every girl safe. I laugh and joke and listen to their stories, even tell a few of my own. I’ve had my fair share of girls- I’m not bad looking, I can be charming when I try and I am a Captain. Girls love a man in uniform, it seems. But I just don’t get it. When I’m with the girl, it just never seems right somehow, like it’s too much like hard work. I can’t be myself- I have to always try and second guess what is expected of me, how I should behave, what is the gentlemanly thing to do. It’s not that I would ever treat a girl badly, it’s just that I don’t understand what they want from me, or what I want from them.
I never felt that tingle of excitement when I take a girls hand for the first time, never felt that sense of belonging when I press my body close to them and slow dance. I never felt that need, so strong and intense, to taste their lips and loose myself in their embrace. I have never felt like that about anyone, until this evening.
Living in barracks as I do in a room full of men, you hear things. Late at night when everything is quiet, you hear a rustle of bed sheets, the odd stifled moan. Everyone does it. Everyone hears it. Everyone pretends that they don’t. I told myself that it didn’t mean anything that I come harder fisting myself, listening to those noises in the dark than I ever did with any woman. I tried to picture women I know, or film stars, but it is the noises that really turn me on. Those non-descript masculine grunts, and anonymous testosterone fuelled moans and sighs of release.
Tonight I know whose face I will picture. I know whose hands I will imagine caressing me as my fingers trace the muscled planes of his body. I will remember how it felt to hold him close and feel his lips on mine, his scent surrounding me until all I can think about is him, his hand around my cock.
Tonight I know whose name I will have to bite my lip to keep from shouting.
Author: Timelordshines
Characters: Real_Jack
Rating: 15
Words: 513
Spoilers: S1E12
Disclaimer: Characters belong to RTD and the BBC - I’m just borrowing them.
Written for love_bingo prompt "Mister Right"
All this time, trying to find “Miss Right”.
Nancy is a sweet girl, but she’s not the one. She’s not what keeps me fighting. I fight because it is the right thing to do. To keep the world safe, to try and make it a better place where everyone can be free to be themselves with no recriminations. A world where people don’t have to hide just because they believe in a different God, or even the same God but worship him in a different way. A world where everyone is treated equally no matter what their creed, colour or race. A world where all men truly are equal.
I hear the men around me talking of their sweethearts back home. The girls they love but left to come here and fight the Nazis to keep their girls, and every girl safe. I laugh and joke and listen to their stories, even tell a few of my own. I’ve had my fair share of girls- I’m not bad looking, I can be charming when I try and I am a Captain. Girls love a man in uniform, it seems. But I just don’t get it. When I’m with the girl, it just never seems right somehow, like it’s too much like hard work. I can’t be myself- I have to always try and second guess what is expected of me, how I should behave, what is the gentlemanly thing to do. It’s not that I would ever treat a girl badly, it’s just that I don’t understand what they want from me, or what I want from them.
I never felt that tingle of excitement when I take a girls hand for the first time, never felt that sense of belonging when I press my body close to them and slow dance. I never felt that need, so strong and intense, to taste their lips and loose myself in their embrace. I have never felt like that about anyone, until this evening.
Living in barracks as I do in a room full of men, you hear things. Late at night when everything is quiet, you hear a rustle of bed sheets, the odd stifled moan. Everyone does it. Everyone hears it. Everyone pretends that they don’t. I told myself that it didn’t mean anything that I come harder fisting myself, listening to those noises in the dark than I ever did with any woman. I tried to picture women I know, or film stars, but it is the noises that really turn me on. Those non-descript masculine grunts, and anonymous testosterone fuelled moans and sighs of release.
Tonight I know whose face I will picture. I know whose hands I will imagine caressing me as my fingers trace the muscled planes of his body. I will remember how it felt to hold him close and feel his lips on mine, his scent surrounding me until all I can think about is him, his hand around my cock.
Tonight I know whose name I will have to bite my lip to keep from shouting.