Eleventy_Kink fill: We're Both Too Empty To Be Apologetic (Doctor Who)
Title: We're Both Too Empty To Be Apologetic
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Canton Everett Delaware III/Captain Jack Harkness
Rating: M for a bit of smut
Summary: Captain Jack Harkness walks into a bar...
Author's Note: I am considering doing a part II from Canton's point of view, so if anyone wants it, shout. If no one does, I might do it anyway. I'm pretty incorrigible.
Captain Jack Harkness had no trouble attracting attention from almost every patron in any bar he stepped into; the only trouble tonight in this bar was that so far, no one had attracted his attention. It was a frustrating problem Jack rarely ran into. He shifted on his bar stool so that he had a decent view of everyone in the bar and wrapped a casual hand around his glass of water.
There were only five other people in the bar, which wasn't unusual considering it was eight o'clock on a Wednesday in 1973. There was the bartender, a cute young thing in her own right, but she wouldn't get off work until eleven and she wasn't really what he was looking for tonight anyway--not enough cock. There was a graying old man at a table by the door, out of the running because he was without any redeeming features, and a 40-something bottle-blond who looked more sullen than Jack was really willing to handle. That left two at the bar: one rather short man with dark hair whose body language made it clear he wanted to be left alone and an exotic-looking shy girl who he ruled out for the same reason as her friend, the bartender.
Jack reminded himself as he downed his drink that he didn't need to take anyone home tonight, he merely had a strong desire to. He could ignore a desire, go home, get a good night's sleep and be fresh for Torchwood in the morning, but where would be the fun in that? The bartender was eying him coyly, but he pretended not to notice, and she quickly gave up. After about ten minutes of drinking, he'd finished his third glass of water. He was about to call it quits for this bar, glancing around one last time to make sure no one had crawled out of hiding at an opportune moment, and, after he'd verified that no one had, he fished a fiver out of his pocket and left the entirety of it on the bar for the unfortunate bartender. He stood, gathered his coat around him more securely, and crossed the room.
His hand was on the door when he heard it for the first time and stopped cold in his tracks.
"Another gin and tonic, thanks," the short man at the bar said, and oh, that voice. It wasn't even the American accent that struck Jack so soundly, though that was interesting all on its own. It was the tonality, the sultry music of it that sent a powerful pang straight to his groin.
That man's voice was the most alluring voice Jack had ever heard, and he had been around a long time. It was low and just a bit gravelly, like a cross between the protagonist of an old detective movie and a stereotypical jazz singer. It was smooth and rich, with enough quiet command to be a turn-on.
Jack turned around and headed back to the bar without a second thought. He slid deftly onto the bar stool next to the other and said quietly, "I couldn't help but notice how lonely you look. Let me buy you a drink."
Without even glancing in Jack's direction, the dark-haired man swallowed a mouthful of alcohol and replied, "No thanks."
Desire pooled in the pit of Jack's stomach, and he thought, This is worth it even if he turns me down.
"The name's Captain Jack Harkness, but you are welcome to call me anything you like."
"Canton Everett Delaware the Third. Not interested."
Again, not even a glance. A wide smirk spread across Jack's face. "Come on, Canton! You haven't even seen what I'm offering!" He didn't have to wait long at all before receiving the desired reaction.
Canton finally turned in his direction, about to spit out a scathing retort, but Jack watched it die on his lips. He recovered from his shock fairly quickly, and said instead, "It sounded like you were offering a drink. Don't need to see it to know I don't want it."
Jack couldn't help the fresh desire he felt at that voice's raw sexuality. He smirked. "Admittedly, that wasn't all I had in mind. We could skip it, head back to mine."
"Sounds good to me, 'Captain.'" Canton downed his drink swiftly and stood, slipping into his jacket like a man with experience running. He paid for his drink and left without glancing back to see if Jack had followed. He radiated cool confidence.
Jack caught up quickly and laughed aloud. "I usually like to have a chat with a guy before I bring him back to my place--how do I know you're not some sort of serial killer?"
Canton smiled for the first time all night. "You don't," he said easily, sensually, "but if it makes you feel better, we can get to know each other on the way."
He grabbed Jack's collar and dragged him into the alleyway they had been ready to pass, and though Jack could have easily broken his hold, he didn't. There was something about the man worthy of his trust.
With a light shove, Jack found himself trapped between a brick wall and a short man with an awful lot of pent-up frustration. It translated well into passion. Canton's mouth found his greedily, and it was a messy first kiss--teeth clashed and tongues tied in a heated dance--and Jack knew he was in for one hell of a night.
As soon as they parted for air, Jack laughed. "I'm not sure how well we'll get to know each other if we can't talk."
The curved line of Canton's mouth said he didn't care, but instead of continuing his previous pursuit, Canton's hands strayed along the contours of Jack's body--from around his neck to across his chest, they slid further downward, stroking his clothed hip bones gently, maddeningly as Canton pressed ever closer, leaning in to whisper haughtily, "Is this better?"
Jack felt himself harden at the sound of it, loving the challenge in his voice that commingled with the lust he clearly felt. Jack nodded. "Exchange of personal information, then?" A challenge was something Jack could rise to.
Canton wasted no time pulling Jack's shirt from his waistband and shoving his hands beneath it to caress skin.
He whispered, "Sure. You first," as he dug the fingers of his right hand into the flesh of Jack's hip and ran the left soothingly up Jack's spine.
Jack gasped but managed to collect himself enough to say, "I'm American, in Cardiff indefinitely for work."
Canton chuckled, trailing his hand over Jack's stomach and stroking the skin just above his groin. "I'm American, in Cardiff to get away from work. FBI," he added, at the question he could probably see forming on Jack's lips.
"Mmmmn," Jack groaned, "Torchwood--special ops."
Canton slid his hand without warning into Jack's briefs--When did he undo my belt? Jack wondered--but the absolutely amazing feeling of Canton's hand around Jack's already leaking member was somewhat drowned out by Canton's laugh and the quiet words, "By special ops, you mean aliens, right?"
Jack gripped Canton's shoulders tightly and whispered, "I don't know what you're talking about." He gave Canton a hard look, and a lesser man would have shriveled under it.
Canton just gave his prick a quick tug and murmured, "Oh?"
The innocent look on his face should have been illegal, for all of the trouble he was likely to cause with it. Jack groaned, and Canton, taking the sound to mean he was free to continue, did. He ran his thumb over the slit teasingly, then gave a few more experimental pulls before settling into a rhythm that promised to drive Jack mad.
"We have encounters too, you know," Canton breathed without faltering in his task. "It doesn't all happen in the UK."
Jack's breath hitched as the shorter man continued. "I know all about Torchwood and UNIT. He told me about both of them," Canton paused, concentrating, turning his wrist just so, "The Doctor, I mean."
"Fuck," Jack murmured as he came, harder and faster than he had in a long time, the image of Canton's self-satisfied smirk swimming before his eyes.
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters: Canton Everett Delaware III/Captain Jack Harkness
Rating: M for a bit of smut
Summary: Captain Jack Harkness walks into a bar...
Author's Note: I am considering doing a part II from Canton's point of view, so if anyone wants it, shout. If no one does, I might do it anyway. I'm pretty incorrigible.
Captain Jack Harkness had no trouble attracting attention from almost every patron in any bar he stepped into; the only trouble tonight in this bar was that so far, no one had attracted his attention. It was a frustrating problem Jack rarely ran into. He shifted on his bar stool so that he had a decent view of everyone in the bar and wrapped a casual hand around his glass of water.
There were only five other people in the bar, which wasn't unusual considering it was eight o'clock on a Wednesday in 1973. There was the bartender, a cute young thing in her own right, but she wouldn't get off work until eleven and she wasn't really what he was looking for tonight anyway--not enough cock. There was a graying old man at a table by the door, out of the running because he was without any redeeming features, and a 40-something bottle-blond who looked more sullen than Jack was really willing to handle. That left two at the bar: one rather short man with dark hair whose body language made it clear he wanted to be left alone and an exotic-looking shy girl who he ruled out for the same reason as her friend, the bartender.
Jack reminded himself as he downed his drink that he didn't need to take anyone home tonight, he merely had a strong desire to. He could ignore a desire, go home, get a good night's sleep and be fresh for Torchwood in the morning, but where would be the fun in that? The bartender was eying him coyly, but he pretended not to notice, and she quickly gave up. After about ten minutes of drinking, he'd finished his third glass of water. He was about to call it quits for this bar, glancing around one last time to make sure no one had crawled out of hiding at an opportune moment, and, after he'd verified that no one had, he fished a fiver out of his pocket and left the entirety of it on the bar for the unfortunate bartender. He stood, gathered his coat around him more securely, and crossed the room.
His hand was on the door when he heard it for the first time and stopped cold in his tracks.
"Another gin and tonic, thanks," the short man at the bar said, and oh, that voice. It wasn't even the American accent that struck Jack so soundly, though that was interesting all on its own. It was the tonality, the sultry music of it that sent a powerful pang straight to his groin.
That man's voice was the most alluring voice Jack had ever heard, and he had been around a long time. It was low and just a bit gravelly, like a cross between the protagonist of an old detective movie and a stereotypical jazz singer. It was smooth and rich, with enough quiet command to be a turn-on.
Jack turned around and headed back to the bar without a second thought. He slid deftly onto the bar stool next to the other and said quietly, "I couldn't help but notice how lonely you look. Let me buy you a drink."
Without even glancing in Jack's direction, the dark-haired man swallowed a mouthful of alcohol and replied, "No thanks."
Desire pooled in the pit of Jack's stomach, and he thought, This is worth it even if he turns me down.
"The name's Captain Jack Harkness, but you are welcome to call me anything you like."
"Canton Everett Delaware the Third. Not interested."
Again, not even a glance. A wide smirk spread across Jack's face. "Come on, Canton! You haven't even seen what I'm offering!" He didn't have to wait long at all before receiving the desired reaction.
Canton finally turned in his direction, about to spit out a scathing retort, but Jack watched it die on his lips. He recovered from his shock fairly quickly, and said instead, "It sounded like you were offering a drink. Don't need to see it to know I don't want it."
Jack couldn't help the fresh desire he felt at that voice's raw sexuality. He smirked. "Admittedly, that wasn't all I had in mind. We could skip it, head back to mine."
"Sounds good to me, 'Captain.'" Canton downed his drink swiftly and stood, slipping into his jacket like a man with experience running. He paid for his drink and left without glancing back to see if Jack had followed. He radiated cool confidence.
Jack caught up quickly and laughed aloud. "I usually like to have a chat with a guy before I bring him back to my place--how do I know you're not some sort of serial killer?"
Canton smiled for the first time all night. "You don't," he said easily, sensually, "but if it makes you feel better, we can get to know each other on the way."
He grabbed Jack's collar and dragged him into the alleyway they had been ready to pass, and though Jack could have easily broken his hold, he didn't. There was something about the man worthy of his trust.
With a light shove, Jack found himself trapped between a brick wall and a short man with an awful lot of pent-up frustration. It translated well into passion. Canton's mouth found his greedily, and it was a messy first kiss--teeth clashed and tongues tied in a heated dance--and Jack knew he was in for one hell of a night.
As soon as they parted for air, Jack laughed. "I'm not sure how well we'll get to know each other if we can't talk."
The curved line of Canton's mouth said he didn't care, but instead of continuing his previous pursuit, Canton's hands strayed along the contours of Jack's body--from around his neck to across his chest, they slid further downward, stroking his clothed hip bones gently, maddeningly as Canton pressed ever closer, leaning in to whisper haughtily, "Is this better?"
Jack felt himself harden at the sound of it, loving the challenge in his voice that commingled with the lust he clearly felt. Jack nodded. "Exchange of personal information, then?" A challenge was something Jack could rise to.
Canton wasted no time pulling Jack's shirt from his waistband and shoving his hands beneath it to caress skin.
He whispered, "Sure. You first," as he dug the fingers of his right hand into the flesh of Jack's hip and ran the left soothingly up Jack's spine.
Jack gasped but managed to collect himself enough to say, "I'm American, in Cardiff indefinitely for work."
Canton chuckled, trailing his hand over Jack's stomach and stroking the skin just above his groin. "I'm American, in Cardiff to get away from work. FBI," he added, at the question he could probably see forming on Jack's lips.
"Mmmmn," Jack groaned, "Torchwood--special ops."
Canton slid his hand without warning into Jack's briefs--When did he undo my belt? Jack wondered--but the absolutely amazing feeling of Canton's hand around Jack's already leaking member was somewhat drowned out by Canton's laugh and the quiet words, "By special ops, you mean aliens, right?"
Jack gripped Canton's shoulders tightly and whispered, "I don't know what you're talking about." He gave Canton a hard look, and a lesser man would have shriveled under it.
Canton just gave his prick a quick tug and murmured, "Oh?"
The innocent look on his face should have been illegal, for all of the trouble he was likely to cause with it. Jack groaned, and Canton, taking the sound to mean he was free to continue, did. He ran his thumb over the slit teasingly, then gave a few more experimental pulls before settling into a rhythm that promised to drive Jack mad.
"We have encounters too, you know," Canton breathed without faltering in his task. "It doesn't all happen in the UK."
Jack's breath hitched as the shorter man continued. "I know all about Torchwood and UNIT. He told me about both of them," Canton paused, concentrating, turning his wrist just so, "The Doctor, I mean."
"Fuck," Jack murmured as he came, harder and faster than he had in a long time, the image of Canton's self-satisfied smirk swimming before his eyes.