Fortune Favors the Foolish - Part 1 - Torchwood/Dead Like Me crossover - Jack/Mason
Okay, this story resulted from a "holy crap, wouldn't those two be hot together?" conversation I had one day. And lo, there was porn.
For the uninitiated, Jack (during his Dr. Who days) is paired with Mason (*points to icon*) from Dead Like Me. Mason is a shiftless petty criminal who died in the 1960's when he drilled a hole in his head in search of a permanent high. And for those who watch DLM, you know that Jack is not the only thing Mason has had up his bottom.
I also have a sequel planned for this one (very long and involved and, if it turns out the way it is in my head, it will be the shit) but I have yet to write more than a page or so.
************************
Polly had left in a swirl of long legs and long hair, summoned by that irascible old guy just when Mason had been making a bit of progress.
He sank back onto the cushions and tried not to fret that he was out of grass. Maybe he could bum a hit off someone. He tuned in to what Sunny was saying and waited for a chance to enter the conversation. Sunny was American; they were always easy, right? Within a minute though, Mason forgot the grass in his growing interest.
Sunny looked earnestly at his audience and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Seriously, man. He was on a whole other plane of existence. Really far out, you know?”
Mason nodded thoughtfully. He kept thinking through the next day and the next, and the third day found him standing in Peaslee’s Hardware, ignoring the shopkeep’s distrustful stare (which had prevented him from just nicking the thing) as he spilled out four quid and change onto the counter.
As he half-jogged towards home with his purchase, the sensible voice in his brain (which was seldom heard and which sounded an awful lot like his gran) tried to tell him what a bloody fool he was. Mason cheerfully ignored it. He was going to do something amazing, something brilliant, he was going to reach heights of ecstasy he couldn’t even imagine, he-
-rounded a corner and crashed headlong into a bloke coming the other way.
“Whoa!” Two quick hands kept him from falling on his arse in a puddle and he bobbled the brown paper sack against his chest. They stood still and stared a moment, looking for all the world like a masher and a frightened spinster clutching her collar.
“You okay?” The man grinned. American. With quite impressive teeth.
“Yeah. Sorry, yeah. I’m okay.” Mason stepped back and the man’s fingertips trailed down Mason’s arms as he let go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Dog & Duck was nearly empty and Jack had barely finished his pint when the barmaid, who would never give Mason a tumble for all his effort, was at his side.
“Get you another, love?” her cleavage asked.
“You’re too good to me, Dilys,” Jack’s teeth sparkled back. “Can you join us for one?”
Mason felt an irrational surge of irritation. He had written Dilys off long ago, but she didn’t have to crawl into Harkness’s lap.
“Ooohh, I’d love to, Jack, but it’d be as much as my job’s worth.” She cast a frustrated glance at the barman who watched sourly as he polished the glasses. “Be back in a tick.”
“I think Mason needs a refill, too.”
“Oh. Right.”
Jack looked conspiratorially at Mason as she sauntered off. “Nice girl. Doesn’t seem to like you much. Got a past there?”
“Not with her, mate. I’ve never seen Dilys give anyone a go, really.”
“Must be the Harkness charm, then.”
It was true, too. Within a minute of their collision Jack had coaxed him into joining him for a pint, for all Mason’s hurry to get home. Mason got the feeling he wanted to get off the street. Coppers after him? Surprise they’d bother him, all swank like he was.
From there, the subject turned, naturally enough, to women. Women they’d shagged, women they’d almost shagged, women they’d like to shag, men they’d-
What?
Mason stared and felt his face heat. Jack just grinned. It was his best thing, that grin, Mason thought.
“Sorry. Did I shock you?” Jack affected a look of innocent surprise that looked very right and very wrong at the same time. “In this era of free love?”
“You didn’t shock me.” Mason drained his pint with two huge swallows and then wished he hadn’t as he saw Jack glance at his throat and smile. “Well, I mean, you startled me a bit. Not many blokes…” Jack’s amusement deepened and Mason bristled. “Look, mate, I’ve had some experience there as well, if you want to know.”
“Oh, I do.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How the bleeding hell did this happen? Mason thought as he unlocked his flat. He’s telling Jack about the orgy last year where he jerked off that Ethan chap whilst being blown by the hostess (having to invent a bit of it since he’d been sky high at the time) and the next thing he knows Jack is tossing cash on the table and snogging Dilys goodbye and inviting himself back to Mason’s flat. And Mason, despite the brick weighing down his insides, agrees. Harkness charm, indeed.
And that was all he had time to think. The keys clattered to the floor as Jack pushed him against the wall. Bloody hell the man could kiss. Mason managed to drop his sack from Peaslee’s onto the chair and tried to focus on the tongue that stroked his, rather than the weirdness of stubble against his face or the bulk of the shoulders under his hands.
Jack broke the kiss but kept Mason pinned to the wall. He grinned again, “This okay?”
Mason tried to put a look of worldly assurance on his face. Judging by the way Jack moved back a bit, he might have looked ready to sneeze. “Sure, this is-”
“Good.” Jack kissed him again, more rough and dirty this time. Fuck, Mason thought, and grabbed the back of Jack’s neck to pull him closer. Their mouths slanted across each other, swapping spit freely and Mason made a small sound, which he felt more than heard, and slid his fingers up through the soft thickness of Jack’s hair. His free hand pushed Jack’s soft leather coat down off his shoulder and he smiled inwardly, pleased with his own boldness.
Jack let the coat fall and grabbed a double-handful of Mason’s ass. Their hips ground together and Mason made that sound again as the bulge in Jack’s jeans pushed against him. He shifted and pushed back and found, to his dizzy delight, that he was getting hard himself.
Blokes. Who knew?
He shoved away from the wall and moved them in the general direction of the bed, kissing all the way. Then there was freefall and the welcome bounce of the mattress and he sat up, straddling Jack’s hips.
“So you swing both ways, yeah?” He smoothed his hands down Jack’s chest, using his thumbs to brush over his nipples, feeling them harden through the thin cotton.
“Mason, I swing every way you can possibly imagine.”
Mason grinned and grabbed both his jumper and T-shirt and pulled them over his head. He felt a mouth close over his right nipple and arms wrap around him and roll him further onto the bed. He struggled to get his face and arms clear of the fabric while a tongue trailed down his chest and over his belly. He tossed his shirts away and plunged his fingers into Jack’s hair again as he felt that nimble tongue swirl round his navel and clever fingers working at his belt.
His jeans and pants came down in one huge yank that pulled him halfway off the bed and he laughed out loud. Then laughed again as Jack cursed at the laces on his boots. In short order, though, they hit the floor with twin thuds and Mason was feeling that vulnerable thrill of being the only one without clothing. Jack looked him up and down and his grin became, if possible, even more sparkling.
“Aren’t we both meant to be naked?” Mason asked with a lift to his eyebrows.
“My favorite way to be.”
Mason had seen dozens of men naked. Hundreds, even. From changing rooms to public toilets to porn films to the odd streaker here or there. He’d never watched a man strip with a hungry eye, though. Never put impatient hands on one when he paused to toe off his shoes or turned to toss his trousers in the corner. Jack’s skin was hot and pale and smooth and in a trice Mason was covered in it from head to toe.
Bloody marvelous.
He hooked his leg over Jack’s hip and pulled him into a snog. He couldn’t really concentrate on anything, though, except the other man’s dick. The heat of it, now fully hardened to a rigid length, pressed into Mason’s thigh. Jack seemed to divine the cause of his distraction, because he smiled into the kiss and rocked his hips. Then he took Mason’s hand in his and brought them both down to wrap round his cock.
Mason stroked and squeezed, letting Jack’s hand guide him. Jack was just a bit longer than he was and straight where Mason was curved, but felt unfamiliar in his hand in ways that had nothing to do with either of those. Their fingers tangled as they moved up and down his length and Mason swept his thumb over the tip and felt the first drops of wetness. He opened his mouth wide and let Jack’s tongue lick inside. He captured the tongue between his teeth and sucked and Jack hummed into his mouth and tightened his hand so that they stroked him more firmly.
Jack pulled away from the kiss and moved to suck briefly on Mason’s earlobe. Then he whispered, “Want a closer look?”
Mason didn’t answer, just shoved Jack over and moved down. Jack chuckled and pulled his hand away, leaving Mason with sole possession of his dick.
It was … a penis. Nothing remarkable really, except that it was the most bloody brilliant thing Mason had ever seen. He stroked, fascinated with the drag of his fingers against the taut skin, and watched his fingertips become shiny as they passed over the crown. The whole thing was reddish in color, in contrast to the paleness of the rest of Jack’s skin, and the hair was rather sparse at the base. Without thinking, he ran his tongue up the shaft then pulled back, startled, with a faint taste of salt.
Jack reclined against the headboard, hands laced together behind his head. “Please,” He gave Mason a cheeky grin. “Help yourself.”
Mason held his gaze and licked again, slow and wet. Jack’s grin faded and his eyes darkened. He flattened his tongue and painted a broad stripe upwards and then retraced his way, avoiding the head. He tipped it gently to one side and licked again. Jack bit his lip and Mason considered. He closed his lips gently and sucked a bit at the side of the shaft, leaving the sensitive crown untouched. Jack nudged his hips impatiently and Mason dropped a nice kiss onto the wet skin, still low.
“Nobody likes a cock tease,” Jack said.
Mason looked up and gave him a smirk and an eyebrow-waggle. “Somebody does.” He closed his mouth around the weeping head of Jack’s cock.
And coughed it out.
Jack laughed out loud, even as he groaned in frustration, and Mason said, “Fuck,” and wiped his mouth and gave it another go. Not as easy as it looked, this. The penis, which had seemed of a respectable, God-fearing size in his hand, felt enormous in his mouth but he stretched his lips around it and sucked gamely. A bit dodgy, trying to maintain some decent suction but keep his teeth out of the way. What a fucking thing to think about, keeping your teeth out of the way. He tried not to drool. The taste was strong but not so bad, considering. It was a constant effort not to gag when the head touched the back of his throat, though, and Mason was sure he was cocking it all up. So to speak.
He wasn’t surprised when Jack pulled him off and up into a kiss. But Jack was breathing hard and the kiss seemed deep and desperate, so maybe he hadn’t done so badly. Jack lay back flat on the bed and hauled Mason to lie on top of him and ran his hands down his back to cup and squeeze his bum. Then he parted Mason’s cheeks and brushed the fingers of one hand in between. They stopped kissing.
“What do you think?” Jack murmured. “You up for the whole experience?”
Mason swallowed but his dick twitched, apparently finding the idea more appealing than his brain did.
Jack smiled at him. “There’s other stuff we can do, of course.” He circled Mason’s hole with his fingertip. “But this is what I want.”
“Why?” Mason asked, and then laughed nervously. “I mean….”
“Because you’ll do this someday. And I want it to be me.” He leaned into Mason’s ear and lowered his voice to a whisper, as if someone might overhear. “You won’t find anyone better. Trust me.”
(Continued in Part 2 - http://druis.livejournal.com/3657.html#cutid1)
For the uninitiated, Jack (during his Dr. Who days) is paired with Mason (*points to icon*) from Dead Like Me. Mason is a shiftless petty criminal who died in the 1960's when he drilled a hole in his head in search of a permanent high. And for those who watch DLM, you know that Jack is not the only thing Mason has had up his bottom.
I also have a sequel planned for this one (very long and involved and, if it turns out the way it is in my head, it will be the shit) but I have yet to write more than a page or so.
************************
Polly had left in a swirl of long legs and long hair, summoned by that irascible old guy just when Mason had been making a bit of progress.
He sank back onto the cushions and tried not to fret that he was out of grass. Maybe he could bum a hit off someone. He tuned in to what Sunny was saying and waited for a chance to enter the conversation. Sunny was American; they were always easy, right? Within a minute though, Mason forgot the grass in his growing interest.
Sunny looked earnestly at his audience and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Seriously, man. He was on a whole other plane of existence. Really far out, you know?”
Mason nodded thoughtfully. He kept thinking through the next day and the next, and the third day found him standing in Peaslee’s Hardware, ignoring the shopkeep’s distrustful stare (which had prevented him from just nicking the thing) as he spilled out four quid and change onto the counter.
As he half-jogged towards home with his purchase, the sensible voice in his brain (which was seldom heard and which sounded an awful lot like his gran) tried to tell him what a bloody fool he was. Mason cheerfully ignored it. He was going to do something amazing, something brilliant, he was going to reach heights of ecstasy he couldn’t even imagine, he-
-rounded a corner and crashed headlong into a bloke coming the other way.
“Whoa!” Two quick hands kept him from falling on his arse in a puddle and he bobbled the brown paper sack against his chest. They stood still and stared a moment, looking for all the world like a masher and a frightened spinster clutching her collar.
“You okay?” The man grinned. American. With quite impressive teeth.
“Yeah. Sorry, yeah. I’m okay.” Mason stepped back and the man’s fingertips trailed down Mason’s arms as he let go.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Dog & Duck was nearly empty and Jack had barely finished his pint when the barmaid, who would never give Mason a tumble for all his effort, was at his side.
“Get you another, love?” her cleavage asked.
“You’re too good to me, Dilys,” Jack’s teeth sparkled back. “Can you join us for one?”
Mason felt an irrational surge of irritation. He had written Dilys off long ago, but she didn’t have to crawl into Harkness’s lap.
“Ooohh, I’d love to, Jack, but it’d be as much as my job’s worth.” She cast a frustrated glance at the barman who watched sourly as he polished the glasses. “Be back in a tick.”
“I think Mason needs a refill, too.”
“Oh. Right.”
Jack looked conspiratorially at Mason as she sauntered off. “Nice girl. Doesn’t seem to like you much. Got a past there?”
“Not with her, mate. I’ve never seen Dilys give anyone a go, really.”
“Must be the Harkness charm, then.”
It was true, too. Within a minute of their collision Jack had coaxed him into joining him for a pint, for all Mason’s hurry to get home. Mason got the feeling he wanted to get off the street. Coppers after him? Surprise they’d bother him, all swank like he was.
From there, the subject turned, naturally enough, to women. Women they’d shagged, women they’d almost shagged, women they’d like to shag, men they’d-
What?
Mason stared and felt his face heat. Jack just grinned. It was his best thing, that grin, Mason thought.
“Sorry. Did I shock you?” Jack affected a look of innocent surprise that looked very right and very wrong at the same time. “In this era of free love?”
“You didn’t shock me.” Mason drained his pint with two huge swallows and then wished he hadn’t as he saw Jack glance at his throat and smile. “Well, I mean, you startled me a bit. Not many blokes…” Jack’s amusement deepened and Mason bristled. “Look, mate, I’ve had some experience there as well, if you want to know.”
“Oh, I do.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
How the bleeding hell did this happen? Mason thought as he unlocked his flat. He’s telling Jack about the orgy last year where he jerked off that Ethan chap whilst being blown by the hostess (having to invent a bit of it since he’d been sky high at the time) and the next thing he knows Jack is tossing cash on the table and snogging Dilys goodbye and inviting himself back to Mason’s flat. And Mason, despite the brick weighing down his insides, agrees. Harkness charm, indeed.
And that was all he had time to think. The keys clattered to the floor as Jack pushed him against the wall. Bloody hell the man could kiss. Mason managed to drop his sack from Peaslee’s onto the chair and tried to focus on the tongue that stroked his, rather than the weirdness of stubble against his face or the bulk of the shoulders under his hands.
Jack broke the kiss but kept Mason pinned to the wall. He grinned again, “This okay?”
Mason tried to put a look of worldly assurance on his face. Judging by the way Jack moved back a bit, he might have looked ready to sneeze. “Sure, this is-”
“Good.” Jack kissed him again, more rough and dirty this time. Fuck, Mason thought, and grabbed the back of Jack’s neck to pull him closer. Their mouths slanted across each other, swapping spit freely and Mason made a small sound, which he felt more than heard, and slid his fingers up through the soft thickness of Jack’s hair. His free hand pushed Jack’s soft leather coat down off his shoulder and he smiled inwardly, pleased with his own boldness.
Jack let the coat fall and grabbed a double-handful of Mason’s ass. Their hips ground together and Mason made that sound again as the bulge in Jack’s jeans pushed against him. He shifted and pushed back and found, to his dizzy delight, that he was getting hard himself.
Blokes. Who knew?
He shoved away from the wall and moved them in the general direction of the bed, kissing all the way. Then there was freefall and the welcome bounce of the mattress and he sat up, straddling Jack’s hips.
“So you swing both ways, yeah?” He smoothed his hands down Jack’s chest, using his thumbs to brush over his nipples, feeling them harden through the thin cotton.
“Mason, I swing every way you can possibly imagine.”
Mason grinned and grabbed both his jumper and T-shirt and pulled them over his head. He felt a mouth close over his right nipple and arms wrap around him and roll him further onto the bed. He struggled to get his face and arms clear of the fabric while a tongue trailed down his chest and over his belly. He tossed his shirts away and plunged his fingers into Jack’s hair again as he felt that nimble tongue swirl round his navel and clever fingers working at his belt.
His jeans and pants came down in one huge yank that pulled him halfway off the bed and he laughed out loud. Then laughed again as Jack cursed at the laces on his boots. In short order, though, they hit the floor with twin thuds and Mason was feeling that vulnerable thrill of being the only one without clothing. Jack looked him up and down and his grin became, if possible, even more sparkling.
“Aren’t we both meant to be naked?” Mason asked with a lift to his eyebrows.
“My favorite way to be.”
Mason had seen dozens of men naked. Hundreds, even. From changing rooms to public toilets to porn films to the odd streaker here or there. He’d never watched a man strip with a hungry eye, though. Never put impatient hands on one when he paused to toe off his shoes or turned to toss his trousers in the corner. Jack’s skin was hot and pale and smooth and in a trice Mason was covered in it from head to toe.
Bloody marvelous.
He hooked his leg over Jack’s hip and pulled him into a snog. He couldn’t really concentrate on anything, though, except the other man’s dick. The heat of it, now fully hardened to a rigid length, pressed into Mason’s thigh. Jack seemed to divine the cause of his distraction, because he smiled into the kiss and rocked his hips. Then he took Mason’s hand in his and brought them both down to wrap round his cock.
Mason stroked and squeezed, letting Jack’s hand guide him. Jack was just a bit longer than he was and straight where Mason was curved, but felt unfamiliar in his hand in ways that had nothing to do with either of those. Their fingers tangled as they moved up and down his length and Mason swept his thumb over the tip and felt the first drops of wetness. He opened his mouth wide and let Jack’s tongue lick inside. He captured the tongue between his teeth and sucked and Jack hummed into his mouth and tightened his hand so that they stroked him more firmly.
Jack pulled away from the kiss and moved to suck briefly on Mason’s earlobe. Then he whispered, “Want a closer look?”
Mason didn’t answer, just shoved Jack over and moved down. Jack chuckled and pulled his hand away, leaving Mason with sole possession of his dick.
It was … a penis. Nothing remarkable really, except that it was the most bloody brilliant thing Mason had ever seen. He stroked, fascinated with the drag of his fingers against the taut skin, and watched his fingertips become shiny as they passed over the crown. The whole thing was reddish in color, in contrast to the paleness of the rest of Jack’s skin, and the hair was rather sparse at the base. Without thinking, he ran his tongue up the shaft then pulled back, startled, with a faint taste of salt.
Jack reclined against the headboard, hands laced together behind his head. “Please,” He gave Mason a cheeky grin. “Help yourself.”
Mason held his gaze and licked again, slow and wet. Jack’s grin faded and his eyes darkened. He flattened his tongue and painted a broad stripe upwards and then retraced his way, avoiding the head. He tipped it gently to one side and licked again. Jack bit his lip and Mason considered. He closed his lips gently and sucked a bit at the side of the shaft, leaving the sensitive crown untouched. Jack nudged his hips impatiently and Mason dropped a nice kiss onto the wet skin, still low.
“Nobody likes a cock tease,” Jack said.
Mason looked up and gave him a smirk and an eyebrow-waggle. “Somebody does.” He closed his mouth around the weeping head of Jack’s cock.
And coughed it out.
Jack laughed out loud, even as he groaned in frustration, and Mason said, “Fuck,” and wiped his mouth and gave it another go. Not as easy as it looked, this. The penis, which had seemed of a respectable, God-fearing size in his hand, felt enormous in his mouth but he stretched his lips around it and sucked gamely. A bit dodgy, trying to maintain some decent suction but keep his teeth out of the way. What a fucking thing to think about, keeping your teeth out of the way. He tried not to drool. The taste was strong but not so bad, considering. It was a constant effort not to gag when the head touched the back of his throat, though, and Mason was sure he was cocking it all up. So to speak.
He wasn’t surprised when Jack pulled him off and up into a kiss. But Jack was breathing hard and the kiss seemed deep and desperate, so maybe he hadn’t done so badly. Jack lay back flat on the bed and hauled Mason to lie on top of him and ran his hands down his back to cup and squeeze his bum. Then he parted Mason’s cheeks and brushed the fingers of one hand in between. They stopped kissing.
“What do you think?” Jack murmured. “You up for the whole experience?”
Mason swallowed but his dick twitched, apparently finding the idea more appealing than his brain did.
Jack smiled at him. “There’s other stuff we can do, of course.” He circled Mason’s hole with his fingertip. “But this is what I want.”
“Why?” Mason asked, and then laughed nervously. “I mean….”
“Because you’ll do this someday. And I want it to be me.” He leaned into Mason’s ear and lowered his voice to a whisper, as if someone might overhear. “You won’t find anyone better. Trust me.”
(Continued in Part 2 - http://druis.livejournal.com/3657.html#cutid1)