Morgyn Leri (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
morgynleri) wrote2008-08-02 01:56 pm
morgynleri) wrote2008-08-02 01:56 pm
Watching Them Dancing; Doctor Who, Torchwood; Adult
Title: Watching Them Dancing
Rating: hard R
Prompt: Beauty and the beasts.
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Taboos: Threesom, voyerism, sensory play, sex in public places, oral sex
He loves to watch them.
He enjoys the dancing, but there is a certain thrill in just watching them flirt and play and dance. A whirlwind across time and space, flitting from planet to planet, con to con, running two steps ahead of trouble. Laughing every step along the way, giddy on success and each other.
John wriggled against the fur in front of a fireplace, the owner of the manor off somewhere, and the servants easily sent to visit family or friends to the village pub. Tactile and impatient, and all too aware of Jack watching him, even with the blindfold firmly tied over his eyes, and the utter silence of the room.
Rose picked up one of the lit tapers scattered through the room, looking over John's prone form at Jack, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth as she tipped it over the bare skin in front of her.
John hissed as a trail of wax droplets was drawn from navel up to one nipple, cock twitching as he held still, letting Rose paint his torso with wax. Letting her know how much he was enjoying it with wanton moans and pleas for more.
"Shh, John." Rose pressed one finger to his lips after she set the candle down. She leaned down to press a fleeting kiss to his lips, grinning wickedly as she pulled back and he tried to follow. "Hold still, pretty boy, or you don't get to come."
John whimpered, but he tried to hold still as she scooped an ice-cube out of the bowl nearby, the faint click and rattle giving him warning of her intent. He bit his lip, his head tilting a little further back, exposing the pale line of his throat when she bent down to trace the ice from the dip of his collarbone to his navel.
~
Her breath quickens when she has a chance to watch them together in an unguarded moment, and her heart pounds. When they're wrapped up in each other, and forget they have an audience is the moment she loves best. Unscripted and not as showy, not as smooth, but more intimate. Intense and personal and just beautiful.
Jack's hands are pressed flat against the wall, his head leaned back as he flexes his hips, John on his knees in front of him. A stolen moment in an alcove, waiting for Rose to come back, borrowed breeches and his own boxers down around his ankles.
John has one hand tightly gripping Jack's hip, the other hidden from this angle. She could easily imagine what he was doing with it though, when Jack bit down on his lip to hold back the moan of pleasure she could almost hear in her mind.
The clatter of boots down the hall makes her clear her throat, grinning apologetically as Jack gives her a look of pained annoyance and frustration. "I don't think Her Majesty will delay those soldiers just to let you get off, Jack." She slipped further into the alcove, her hand curled tightly around the silk pouch with the jewels they'd come for.
~
He wants to join them when he watches, but he doesn't. Because they have their moments to watch, and deserve a chance for it just to be them. It's an effort, and usually involves a camera and some distance, but he can manage to stay away for a little while.
Most of the time.
Rose was gripping the slats of the headboard tightly enough to turn her knuckles white, her head pressed back into the pillow. Her hips arched up, heels pressed into the mattress, a full-throated moan coming across the com-link clearly.
Jack pressed her back down, one arm across her hips as he slid one finger into her. Circled her clit with his tongue, worried flesh between his teeth carefully. Talented lips and tongue, clever fingers that John knew could build the passion and pleasure to fever-pitch before he deigned to bring someone over the edge.
"Ja-ack!" Rose drew his name out into two syllables, trying to lift her hips closer again. She lifted her head to meet Jack's gaze as he looked up, her eyes dark with desire. "Get up here, and get in me, now," she snarled, reaching down one hand to tug on his hair, none too gently.
"My lady's wish is my pleasure." Jack chuckled as he pressed a kiss just above her mound, slowly crawling up her, peppering her skin with little nips and kisses along the way. Meeting her lips in a deep, drugging kiss as he slowly pushed into her, a long roll of his hips.
He slid one hand down, hooking it behind her knee to bring her leg up as he slid out, and thrust back in just as slow as before, the angle deeper. Smirked at the frustrated whimper from Rose, keeping his pace slow despite her encouragement to go faster, harder.
"He's always a bastard, Rose," John murmured, though he knew she couldn't hear him.
~
If someone took a moment to watch the cabin of a ship tethered to Big Ben during the London Blitz, they might wonder what it is sleeping on the bed that fills most of the room. Sprawling limbs and hair that can't decide if it's blond or brown or somewhere in between, it's hard to tell where one ends and another begins with the blankets tangled around them.
Jack nipped the back of John's neck as he shifted the angle of his thrusts, the smaller man letting out a strangled yelp of pleasure as Jack pressed against his prostate. He reached a hand out, twining his fingers with Rose's, his thrusts driving John into her.
Rose let her head fall back, one foot pressed flat against the mattress as she lifted her hips to meet John, the fingers of one hand wrapped tight around Jack's, the other digging into John's shoulder, little half-moon crescents just breaking skin.
John braced his weight on his arms as he let Jack set the pace, leaning down to nip at the line of Rose's throat, his pupils blown with passion and desire. Vocal in his expression of pleasure, unable to be more tactile despite the desire to touch.
Shifting his hand from John's hip, Jack reached around to circle Rose's clit with his thumb, watching over John's shoulder as she came apart. Bit down on John's shoulder, thrusting harder, faster, his jaw clamping down hard as he came. Listened to John's loud groan as he followed.
They curled together, John half-sprawled over Jack, his hand curled against Rose's waist. Rose tucked against Jack's other side, her head on his shoulder, and one leg hooked over one of John's. And Jack contentedly wrapped around them and surrounded by them. Morning would come soon enough, and more dancing and running, but for now, they slept.
Cross-posted:
AO3, LiveJournal, my website
Rating: hard R
Prompt: Beauty and the beasts.
Fandom: Doctor Who/Torchwood
Taboos: Threesom, voyerism, sensory play, sex in public places, oral sex
He loves to watch them.
He enjoys the dancing, but there is a certain thrill in just watching them flirt and play and dance. A whirlwind across time and space, flitting from planet to planet, con to con, running two steps ahead of trouble. Laughing every step along the way, giddy on success and each other.
John wriggled against the fur in front of a fireplace, the owner of the manor off somewhere, and the servants easily sent to visit family or friends to the village pub. Tactile and impatient, and all too aware of Jack watching him, even with the blindfold firmly tied over his eyes, and the utter silence of the room.
Rose picked up one of the lit tapers scattered through the room, looking over John's prone form at Jack, the tip of her tongue caught between her teeth as she tipped it over the bare skin in front of her.
John hissed as a trail of wax droplets was drawn from navel up to one nipple, cock twitching as he held still, letting Rose paint his torso with wax. Letting her know how much he was enjoying it with wanton moans and pleas for more.
"Shh, John." Rose pressed one finger to his lips after she set the candle down. She leaned down to press a fleeting kiss to his lips, grinning wickedly as she pulled back and he tried to follow. "Hold still, pretty boy, or you don't get to come."
John whimpered, but he tried to hold still as she scooped an ice-cube out of the bowl nearby, the faint click and rattle giving him warning of her intent. He bit his lip, his head tilting a little further back, exposing the pale line of his throat when she bent down to trace the ice from the dip of his collarbone to his navel.
Her breath quickens when she has a chance to watch them together in an unguarded moment, and her heart pounds. When they're wrapped up in each other, and forget they have an audience is the moment she loves best. Unscripted and not as showy, not as smooth, but more intimate. Intense and personal and just beautiful.
Jack's hands are pressed flat against the wall, his head leaned back as he flexes his hips, John on his knees in front of him. A stolen moment in an alcove, waiting for Rose to come back, borrowed breeches and his own boxers down around his ankles.
John has one hand tightly gripping Jack's hip, the other hidden from this angle. She could easily imagine what he was doing with it though, when Jack bit down on his lip to hold back the moan of pleasure she could almost hear in her mind.
The clatter of boots down the hall makes her clear her throat, grinning apologetically as Jack gives her a look of pained annoyance and frustration. "I don't think Her Majesty will delay those soldiers just to let you get off, Jack." She slipped further into the alcove, her hand curled tightly around the silk pouch with the jewels they'd come for.
He wants to join them when he watches, but he doesn't. Because they have their moments to watch, and deserve a chance for it just to be them. It's an effort, and usually involves a camera and some distance, but he can manage to stay away for a little while.
Most of the time.
Rose was gripping the slats of the headboard tightly enough to turn her knuckles white, her head pressed back into the pillow. Her hips arched up, heels pressed into the mattress, a full-throated moan coming across the com-link clearly.
Jack pressed her back down, one arm across her hips as he slid one finger into her. Circled her clit with his tongue, worried flesh between his teeth carefully. Talented lips and tongue, clever fingers that John knew could build the passion and pleasure to fever-pitch before he deigned to bring someone over the edge.
"Ja-ack!" Rose drew his name out into two syllables, trying to lift her hips closer again. She lifted her head to meet Jack's gaze as he looked up, her eyes dark with desire. "Get up here, and get in me, now," she snarled, reaching down one hand to tug on his hair, none too gently.
"My lady's wish is my pleasure." Jack chuckled as he pressed a kiss just above her mound, slowly crawling up her, peppering her skin with little nips and kisses along the way. Meeting her lips in a deep, drugging kiss as he slowly pushed into her, a long roll of his hips.
He slid one hand down, hooking it behind her knee to bring her leg up as he slid out, and thrust back in just as slow as before, the angle deeper. Smirked at the frustrated whimper from Rose, keeping his pace slow despite her encouragement to go faster, harder.
"He's always a bastard, Rose," John murmured, though he knew she couldn't hear him.
If someone took a moment to watch the cabin of a ship tethered to Big Ben during the London Blitz, they might wonder what it is sleeping on the bed that fills most of the room. Sprawling limbs and hair that can't decide if it's blond or brown or somewhere in between, it's hard to tell where one ends and another begins with the blankets tangled around them.
Jack nipped the back of John's neck as he shifted the angle of his thrusts, the smaller man letting out a strangled yelp of pleasure as Jack pressed against his prostate. He reached a hand out, twining his fingers with Rose's, his thrusts driving John into her.
Rose let her head fall back, one foot pressed flat against the mattress as she lifted her hips to meet John, the fingers of one hand wrapped tight around Jack's, the other digging into John's shoulder, little half-moon crescents just breaking skin.
John braced his weight on his arms as he let Jack set the pace, leaning down to nip at the line of Rose's throat, his pupils blown with passion and desire. Vocal in his expression of pleasure, unable to be more tactile despite the desire to touch.
Shifting his hand from John's hip, Jack reached around to circle Rose's clit with his thumb, watching over John's shoulder as she came apart. Bit down on John's shoulder, thrusting harder, faster, his jaw clamping down hard as he came. Listened to John's loud groan as he followed.
They curled together, John half-sprawled over Jack, his hand curled against Rose's waist. Rose tucked against Jack's other side, her head on his shoulder, and one leg hooked over one of John's. And Jack contentedly wrapped around them and surrounded by them. Morning would come soon enough, and more dancing and running, but for now, they slept.
Cross-posted:
AO3, LiveJournal, my website