Fic: This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine. (NC-15, TW, Jack/Tardis)
Title: This is my rifle. There are many like it, but this one is mine.
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack/TARDIS, Jack/Ianto
Timeline: Starts post-The Doctor Dances, wends through the rest of the season. All pre-Utopia.
Rating: NC-15? written for kink_bingo over on Dreamwidth. Kink: object penetration (sex toys worn under clothing)
A/N: Thanks to angstslashhope for the ninja beta. I stolded some of her rewrites, so if it's good, it's probably hers.
Summary: A 4-part love story with…an accoutrement.
Jack found it in his drawer one night, and he knew that it hadn't been there the night before. He stood in his bedroom in the TARDIS, looking at the plug curiously. Rose? Nah. Rose would have wanted to be there when he discovered it, and anyway, she wasn't ready for this kind of kink. Yet. The Doctor? Not bloody likely. The Doctor was all teeth and tongue and fingers, but the nuanced feel of something made to be worn in the arse, possibly for long periods of time? Not so much. It was too much like something sentimental, and that the Doctor didn't do.
It was small and shiny, metallic, with a curve to it, and a flared flange that would keep it from slipping in all the way. Jack tasted the surface, and it reminded him of the barrel of a gun.
He looked up at the ceiling. "Baby, did you do this?"
The lights went out, and Jack chuckled. "Oh, you naughty girl."
The plug hummed in his hand.
***
He was hard when they landed on Earth --Cardiff, to be precise-- and Rose had come tumbling out of her room in those sexy little braids that made him want to tug them like reins while her mouth was fastened on his cock. The Doctor had done his careful flirting and Mickey had played along with the dog and pony show charmingly.
Jack's mind was actually elsewhere. He'd had the plug in since he'd woken, and now, with Mickey and Rose and The Doctor in the little restaurant, he was distracted by the hum and vibration of it, occasionally letting off a little pulse in his arse, like the absent-minded squeezing of a lover's hand. He didn't know of she had a pattern, or if she just did it randomly. She could have been trying to communicate with his arse in Gallifreyan Morse code, and he wouldn't have cared.
When he ran with it in, it felt like she was jack-rabbit fucking him. Best. Chase. Ever.
Sometime later, when he was back on the ship, working on the extrapolator, Jack excused himself to the nearest empty room, and reached into his jeans, pushing and pulling the plug as he touched the walls with his free hand. She was a gorgeous thing, this ship who carried him to other places and times, who loved him, who let him stay here, dry humping her clefts and swells in the dimness of the artificial night on board.
The next morning, before they landed on Raxicoricofallapatorius (and when the Doctor wasn't looking), Jack dipped his hands in a pool of her coolant and slid them under the waistband of his jeans. He wanted to smell like her all day.
***
Jack was wearing the plug, incidentally, when they had been transmatted to the Gamestation. It was almost like he had a sixth sense about it. He'd tried on clothes, dished about hair and cosmetic surgery, and then of course, everything had gone pear-shaped.
He stared at the plug in his hand, and then the smoking robot carcasses. It hummed, warm and pulsing. "Oh," he breathed. "Thanks, baby."
***
Jack ran the plug along the inside of his thigh. It was cold and motionless. It hadn't moved of its own accord in over one hundred years.
The plug was the only thing that he really had from before, before he'd ended up stranded on Earth. Over the years he had almost lost it again and again. It was difficult, sometimes, to keep hold of it when running around with no home to go to and no place to keep it, (aside from the obvious). Once he had left it in a train station locker for three years, but it had made him nervous to be without it.
He wondered what it meant that it didn't move. That it didn't warm to his touch. Maybe it was broken. Maybe she had to be close to feel it and make it pulse with life. Maybe, just maybe, she didn't love him anymore.
He heard the shower turn off and tilted his head away from the door, sliding the cold metal across his skin, over his hardened cock, and then rolling up and around and around his navel before dragging it up his chest and along his jugular. It took him a few seconds to realise that he was humming a little as he moved it across his lips, as if he could lull it out of its long silence with a few harmonic resonances.
A waft of steam accompanied Ianto's arrival, and he sat on the edge of the cot and took the plug from Jack's hands before Jack could even open his eyes.
"Is this new?" Ianto commented casually. Jack watched him turn the plug about in his hands and then, oh so casually, smell it.
"Hng," he said softly, hoping that he wouldn't have to talk about it.
"This is a very pretty thing." Ianto swirled the plug across the cut of his own neck, his eyes riveted to Jack's. No matter how exceptional the fingers, watching Ianto touch it turned Jack's belly, and he reached out to take it. Ianto drew his hand back, holding the plug up in the air, out of reach. "A gift from a former lover?"
Jack snatched Ianto's arm at the elbow and pulled it towards him until he could take the plug from Ianto's hand, but he simply closed his fist over the other man's hand. "It's nothing."
Ianto tilted his head and looked at the plug, an evaluative eyebrow raised. "Do you still use it?" he asked. Jack knew what he meant.
"No." He shrugged and let go. "It's meant to be worn. During the day, or whenever." He squeezed the metal in his hand and willed it to warm; it stayed stubbornly cold. "But I don't anymore."
He couldn't look at Ianto anymore, couldn't look at the plug. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, rolling his hips a little on the blankets, making himself think about them instead. They were the scratchy military ones, and he rather liked the feel of them on his skin.
The plug touched the side of his face and he turned to it, sucking it into his mouth. He pushed it out with a pop when Ianto's lips brushed his ear; he had to turn, take that mouth in his, work against that warm mouth with his tongue. Ianto pressed the plug into the side of the kiss, using it to break them apart and then licked his way to Jack's ear, where he said, "Wear it today. For me."
Jack sucked in his breath, choosing, instead of responding, to dip his hand into the elastic of Ianto's y-fronts, the only thing Ianto had bothered to put on yet after his shower. His hands were batted away, and instead Ianto's fingers pressed into the flesh above his knees, pulling them apart. Jack let them fall almost immediately.
The plug seemed more solid in Ianto's hand, looked so much more normal than it really was. He wondered if it would ever come alive again, yield to Ianto's touch; Ianto was, after all, human.
But it was just a gleaming thing, a relic, a memory. He watched Ianto paint it with lube and then lower it to Jack's hole, pressing with very little insistence; showing that preternatural patience that he sometimes seemed to pull from nowhere. Then again, Ianto often liked to take new things slow, and now was apparently no exception. Jack couldn't feel that it was cold, not at first, but then it was filling him, slick metal settling in and he waited for that second in which it might awaken.
It was inert. Still good, but inert. Jack wondered just what might happen if he ever found the Doctor. Would he have to give it back? Would it just come to life, as if no time had passed at all? Could he woo her with smiles and love and confetti?
Jack opened his eyes when Ianto pushed the plug into him further, like the final press into a thumbtack, Jack would have guessed. He could feel it, all curves and metal and playfulness and love and so, so then. Ianto bent down to take one nipple in his mouth, fingers toying with the muscles that held the plug in place.
Jack closed his eyes and dug his fingers into the rough wool beneath him. "Oh, thank you, baby."
END
Hope: Oh, Jack. I think you should write a sequel where Jack gets back onto the TARDIS after the YTW or something and finds like, a SEX ROOM with his shiny face plastered all over the wall or something. You need to have more anal plug happy ending tiems!!!
Amand-r: I originally had more, like Jack goes back after Utopia, and he's all apologetic to the TARDIS, and he sets it in the drawer and turns away, and then he hears it humming in the drawer. But I was like, NO IT SHOULD END SAD. SAD, I SAY. Maybe I should write a sequel. I have many kink boxes to fill.
Hope: I think that perhaps after the YTW, esp now that the hand is gone, Jack just leaves it in practically all the time, because if the TARDIS is near, that's how she announces her presence. Which means there are situations where Jack's in the board room conducting a very important team briefing where he's like: "Alright, team, so now we're going to OH MY GOD GO OUTSIDE RIGHT NOW, QUICK, TIME TO RUN OUTSIDE, BYE!"
Amand-r: Haahaaahahahahaaaha.
Tosh: So I realigned the feeds and switched the imaging resonance and--
Jack: (bolts out of the conference room)
Tosh: (sighing) Am I really that boring?
Owen: Yes.
Gwen: (smacks Owen's head)
Hope: Until Ianto tells them what it is and Tosh gets this thoughtful look on her face and then later, quietly shows the rest of them this remote control she's built that vibrates the same subetheric frequencies as the time vortex, so next time they want to skive off work early....yeah.
Amand-r: I had this comic idea of Ianto changing the batteries and being like, "I fixed it for you."
Hope: LOLIANTO. DO IT. IT CAN BE YOUR ALTERNATE ENDING!
I'm…I'm not announcing when I post kink fics. Should I? I mean, they're smutlets, so they're not long. I dunno if they even have plots. Well, sort of.
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Jack/TARDIS, Jack/Ianto
Timeline: Starts post-The Doctor Dances, wends through the rest of the season. All pre-Utopia.
Rating: NC-15? written for kink_bingo over on Dreamwidth. Kink: object penetration (sex toys worn under clothing)
A/N: Thanks to angstslashhope for the ninja beta. I stolded some of her rewrites, so if it's good, it's probably hers.
Summary: A 4-part love story with…an accoutrement.
Jack found it in his drawer one night, and he knew that it hadn't been there the night before. He stood in his bedroom in the TARDIS, looking at the plug curiously. Rose? Nah. Rose would have wanted to be there when he discovered it, and anyway, she wasn't ready for this kind of kink. Yet. The Doctor? Not bloody likely. The Doctor was all teeth and tongue and fingers, but the nuanced feel of something made to be worn in the arse, possibly for long periods of time? Not so much. It was too much like something sentimental, and that the Doctor didn't do.
It was small and shiny, metallic, with a curve to it, and a flared flange that would keep it from slipping in all the way. Jack tasted the surface, and it reminded him of the barrel of a gun.
He looked up at the ceiling. "Baby, did you do this?"
The lights went out, and Jack chuckled. "Oh, you naughty girl."
The plug hummed in his hand.
***
He was hard when they landed on Earth --Cardiff, to be precise-- and Rose had come tumbling out of her room in those sexy little braids that made him want to tug them like reins while her mouth was fastened on his cock. The Doctor had done his careful flirting and Mickey had played along with the dog and pony show charmingly.
Jack's mind was actually elsewhere. He'd had the plug in since he'd woken, and now, with Mickey and Rose and The Doctor in the little restaurant, he was distracted by the hum and vibration of it, occasionally letting off a little pulse in his arse, like the absent-minded squeezing of a lover's hand. He didn't know of she had a pattern, or if she just did it randomly. She could have been trying to communicate with his arse in Gallifreyan Morse code, and he wouldn't have cared.
When he ran with it in, it felt like she was jack-rabbit fucking him. Best. Chase. Ever.
Sometime later, when he was back on the ship, working on the extrapolator, Jack excused himself to the nearest empty room, and reached into his jeans, pushing and pulling the plug as he touched the walls with his free hand. She was a gorgeous thing, this ship who carried him to other places and times, who loved him, who let him stay here, dry humping her clefts and swells in the dimness of the artificial night on board.
The next morning, before they landed on Raxicoricofallapatorius (and when the Doctor wasn't looking), Jack dipped his hands in a pool of her coolant and slid them under the waistband of his jeans. He wanted to smell like her all day.
***
Jack was wearing the plug, incidentally, when they had been transmatted to the Gamestation. It was almost like he had a sixth sense about it. He'd tried on clothes, dished about hair and cosmetic surgery, and then of course, everything had gone pear-shaped.
He stared at the plug in his hand, and then the smoking robot carcasses. It hummed, warm and pulsing. "Oh," he breathed. "Thanks, baby."
***
Jack ran the plug along the inside of his thigh. It was cold and motionless. It hadn't moved of its own accord in over one hundred years.
The plug was the only thing that he really had from before, before he'd ended up stranded on Earth. Over the years he had almost lost it again and again. It was difficult, sometimes, to keep hold of it when running around with no home to go to and no place to keep it, (aside from the obvious). Once he had left it in a train station locker for three years, but it had made him nervous to be without it.
He wondered what it meant that it didn't move. That it didn't warm to his touch. Maybe it was broken. Maybe she had to be close to feel it and make it pulse with life. Maybe, just maybe, she didn't love him anymore.
He heard the shower turn off and tilted his head away from the door, sliding the cold metal across his skin, over his hardened cock, and then rolling up and around and around his navel before dragging it up his chest and along his jugular. It took him a few seconds to realise that he was humming a little as he moved it across his lips, as if he could lull it out of its long silence with a few harmonic resonances.
A waft of steam accompanied Ianto's arrival, and he sat on the edge of the cot and took the plug from Jack's hands before Jack could even open his eyes.
"Is this new?" Ianto commented casually. Jack watched him turn the plug about in his hands and then, oh so casually, smell it.
"Hng," he said softly, hoping that he wouldn't have to talk about it.
"This is a very pretty thing." Ianto swirled the plug across the cut of his own neck, his eyes riveted to Jack's. No matter how exceptional the fingers, watching Ianto touch it turned Jack's belly, and he reached out to take it. Ianto drew his hand back, holding the plug up in the air, out of reach. "A gift from a former lover?"
Jack snatched Ianto's arm at the elbow and pulled it towards him until he could take the plug from Ianto's hand, but he simply closed his fist over the other man's hand. "It's nothing."
Ianto tilted his head and looked at the plug, an evaluative eyebrow raised. "Do you still use it?" he asked. Jack knew what he meant.
"No." He shrugged and let go. "It's meant to be worn. During the day, or whenever." He squeezed the metal in his hand and willed it to warm; it stayed stubbornly cold. "But I don't anymore."
He couldn't look at Ianto anymore, couldn't look at the plug. He closed his eyes and breathed deep, rolling his hips a little on the blankets, making himself think about them instead. They were the scratchy military ones, and he rather liked the feel of them on his skin.
The plug touched the side of his face and he turned to it, sucking it into his mouth. He pushed it out with a pop when Ianto's lips brushed his ear; he had to turn, take that mouth in his, work against that warm mouth with his tongue. Ianto pressed the plug into the side of the kiss, using it to break them apart and then licked his way to Jack's ear, where he said, "Wear it today. For me."
Jack sucked in his breath, choosing, instead of responding, to dip his hand into the elastic of Ianto's y-fronts, the only thing Ianto had bothered to put on yet after his shower. His hands were batted away, and instead Ianto's fingers pressed into the flesh above his knees, pulling them apart. Jack let them fall almost immediately.
The plug seemed more solid in Ianto's hand, looked so much more normal than it really was. He wondered if it would ever come alive again, yield to Ianto's touch; Ianto was, after all, human.
But it was just a gleaming thing, a relic, a memory. He watched Ianto paint it with lube and then lower it to Jack's hole, pressing with very little insistence; showing that preternatural patience that he sometimes seemed to pull from nowhere. Then again, Ianto often liked to take new things slow, and now was apparently no exception. Jack couldn't feel that it was cold, not at first, but then it was filling him, slick metal settling in and he waited for that second in which it might awaken.
It was inert. Still good, but inert. Jack wondered just what might happen if he ever found the Doctor. Would he have to give it back? Would it just come to life, as if no time had passed at all? Could he woo her with smiles and love and confetti?
Jack opened his eyes when Ianto pushed the plug into him further, like the final press into a thumbtack, Jack would have guessed. He could feel it, all curves and metal and playfulness and love and so, so then. Ianto bent down to take one nipple in his mouth, fingers toying with the muscles that held the plug in place.
Jack closed his eyes and dug his fingers into the rough wool beneath him. "Oh, thank you, baby."
END
Hope: Oh, Jack. I think you should write a sequel where Jack gets back onto the TARDIS after the YTW or something and finds like, a SEX ROOM with his shiny face plastered all over the wall or something. You need to have more anal plug happy ending tiems!!!
Amand-r: I originally had more, like Jack goes back after Utopia, and he's all apologetic to the TARDIS, and he sets it in the drawer and turns away, and then he hears it humming in the drawer. But I was like, NO IT SHOULD END SAD. SAD, I SAY. Maybe I should write a sequel. I have many kink boxes to fill.
Hope: I think that perhaps after the YTW, esp now that the hand is gone, Jack just leaves it in practically all the time, because if the TARDIS is near, that's how she announces her presence. Which means there are situations where Jack's in the board room conducting a very important team briefing where he's like: "Alright, team, so now we're going to OH MY GOD GO OUTSIDE RIGHT NOW, QUICK, TIME TO RUN OUTSIDE, BYE!"
Amand-r: Haahaaahahahahaaaha.
Tosh: So I realigned the feeds and switched the imaging resonance and--
Jack: (bolts out of the conference room)
Tosh: (sighing) Am I really that boring?
Owen: Yes.
Gwen: (smacks Owen's head)
Hope: Until Ianto tells them what it is and Tosh gets this thoughtful look on her face and then later, quietly shows the rest of them this remote control she's built that vibrates the same subetheric frequencies as the time vortex, so next time they want to skive off work early....yeah.
Amand-r: I had this comic idea of Ianto changing the batteries and being like, "I fixed it for you."
Hope: LOLIANTO. DO IT. IT CAN BE YOUR ALTERNATE ENDING!
I'm…I'm not announcing when I post kink fics. Should I? I mean, they're smutlets, so they're not long. I dunno if they even have plots. Well, sort of.