that's what makes my life so fucking fantastic
So I actually managed to write something for the TW kinkmeme, over at the brilliant touchyerwood. Lots of nummy goodness. Oddly, because I'm not really a huge Tosh fan, I found myself unable to stop writing about her. Meant to be a quick pr0nny one-shot with some noncon it ended up being a Tosh-centric dubcon one-shot. Weird. Thus,
It may not be his fault, actually, really, because she is rather short and thus intimidated by men at close range, so it could just be her faulty perception. But really, it probably is a little too close because she can clearly smell him, reminiscent of Jack but muskier, and can clearly see the outline of his bulky wrist strap. What was it Jack had said? About Time Agents and the size?
It doesn't look much different from Jack's, and she knows that bulkier is not better in terms of tech, and she wonders if John has the same model, if he's from the same time as the Captain. Or maybe he's from a different time but with the same model. How do they handle making the modifications? Do they bring technology back? Or is that violating some sort of principle she's never even thought of? Despite working almost constantly with human and alien tech, she realises she is surprisingly ignorant about the greater ramifications of time travel, and certainly the workings of the Time Agency their Captain has been so moulded by,
"Could I just," she gestures helplessly, overwhelmed by the opportunity to study one up close. Jack is always so close-mouthed about his, not ever wanting to divulge too much about his mysterious past (future?), which is perhaps understandable, especially vis-a-vis her recent musings on the consequences of disrupting the space-time continuum with illicit tech.
"All you had to do was ask, love. I'm always ready to be examined."
His voice carries a mockery she is familiar with, jokes that are too far to the side for her to understand, but also with a playfulness which is unusual. She would like to take more time to think, to catalogue exactly what tone he is using with her, but the wrist strap glints in front of her,
"Jack never lets me touch his," she ventures shyly, as she begins the strangely intimate task of handling it, still attached to his wrist. He bends his arm to accommodate her, and surely this brings her closer to him, ensconced in the halo of his scent and his presence, larger than life and somewhat frightening. His voice is too near,
"Pet, you can touch mine any time," and this time the leer is accompanied by his fingers (surprisingly gentle) on the nape of her neck. She shivers, but surely she can put up with some fondling for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,
The display flashes different numbers, languages, signs, her fingers adjusting and exploring, as his fingers trail their way down to the curve of her arse. She tries to focus on him, but who knew you could combine the complexity of space-time travel and the ability to specify coordinates within such small parameters? Really, the power needed for such a device was phenomenal, and yet the design is so sleek and compact. She runs her fingers over the face again.
John's hand is reaching around now to stroke her clit through her trousers. Her thighs tremble slightly, but she ignores it in favour of contemplating the possible efficacy of a similar power boost to the void readings,
"Spread your legs, my dove, that's it," he coos in her ear, and she doesn't want to lose this opportunity, so she does, gripping his arm involuntarily for balance as she does.
"Now, I got a real neat trick to show you, but I'm gonna need something in return. See what I mean, love? 'm not 'zactly meant to show you this, breakin' all sorts of rules here, so a little incentive wouldn't go amiss."
She may be somewhat innocent and somewhat naive, but Toshiko Sato is anything but stupid. Her heartbeat quickens and she's hyperaware of his proximity, and their position. She could say no, but she'd always regret the missed chance. And really, she's a bit flattered that it's her and not Gwen he has cornered. She knows what he's asking, and knows he wants it from her willing. She drops to her knees.
"Knew you were smarter than they gave you credit for. Open up."
He's insouciantly cheerful about the whole thing, casual and decadent, and she can't help but be put at ease as he unbuttons himself and places himself at her open mouth. Now she has nothing directly at hand to distract her, just this intense maleness surrounding her. He hums, a low jaunty tune that she imagines has bawdy words, as she licks and sucks, doing everything she can to please him because what sort of amazing tricks can he show her with that thing?
"Oh you are lovely, aren't you, down on your knees, sucking like a pro," (punctuating each word with a slight thrust).
"Does Jack know what a little whore he has on staff? Does he know he could use you like the cunt you are in exchange for scraps of knowledge he takes for granted? Or is he too busy with the Eye Candy to bother with you? Not even worth using you, is it. Bet the Eye Candy was a challenge at least. But you, oh you lovely, lovely whore" and empties into her mouth. She swallows, and scrabbles to her feet, looking for a napkin or tissue on her desk, she must have something,
"Here, love" he says, offering her a fucking handkerchief of all things. Mind, Jack always has one too, so maybe it's another Time Agency thing? Really, how ignorant can she be? She can't meet his eyes, holding the damp cloth, hot and flustered, and aching in a way she hasn't since Mary first bumped her foot against her calf in that pub. He tips her chin up with those long, smooth fingers and gestures to his momentarily neglected wrist,
"Did you know this had a vibrate setting?"
It may not be his fault, actually, really, because she is rather short and thus intimidated by men at close range, so it could just be her faulty perception. But really, it probably is a little too close because she can clearly smell him, reminiscent of Jack but muskier, and can clearly see the outline of his bulky wrist strap. What was it Jack had said? About Time Agents and the size?
It doesn't look much different from Jack's, and she knows that bulkier is not better in terms of tech, and she wonders if John has the same model, if he's from the same time as the Captain. Or maybe he's from a different time but with the same model. How do they handle making the modifications? Do they bring technology back? Or is that violating some sort of principle she's never even thought of? Despite working almost constantly with human and alien tech, she realises she is surprisingly ignorant about the greater ramifications of time travel, and certainly the workings of the Time Agency their Captain has been so moulded by,
"Could I just," she gestures helplessly, overwhelmed by the opportunity to study one up close. Jack is always so close-mouthed about his, not ever wanting to divulge too much about his mysterious past (future?), which is perhaps understandable, especially vis-a-vis her recent musings on the consequences of disrupting the space-time continuum with illicit tech.
"All you had to do was ask, love. I'm always ready to be examined."
His voice carries a mockery she is familiar with, jokes that are too far to the side for her to understand, but also with a playfulness which is unusual. She would like to take more time to think, to catalogue exactly what tone he is using with her, but the wrist strap glints in front of her,
"Jack never lets me touch his," she ventures shyly, as she begins the strangely intimate task of handling it, still attached to his wrist. He bends his arm to accommodate her, and surely this brings her closer to him, ensconced in the halo of his scent and his presence, larger than life and somewhat frightening. His voice is too near,
"Pet, you can touch mine any time," and this time the leer is accompanied by his fingers (surprisingly gentle) on the nape of her neck. She shivers, but surely she can put up with some fondling for this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity,
The display flashes different numbers, languages, signs, her fingers adjusting and exploring, as his fingers trail their way down to the curve of her arse. She tries to focus on him, but who knew you could combine the complexity of space-time travel and the ability to specify coordinates within such small parameters? Really, the power needed for such a device was phenomenal, and yet the design is so sleek and compact. She runs her fingers over the face again.
John's hand is reaching around now to stroke her clit through her trousers. Her thighs tremble slightly, but she ignores it in favour of contemplating the possible efficacy of a similar power boost to the void readings,
"Spread your legs, my dove, that's it," he coos in her ear, and she doesn't want to lose this opportunity, so she does, gripping his arm involuntarily for balance as she does.
"Now, I got a real neat trick to show you, but I'm gonna need something in return. See what I mean, love? 'm not 'zactly meant to show you this, breakin' all sorts of rules here, so a little incentive wouldn't go amiss."
She may be somewhat innocent and somewhat naive, but Toshiko Sato is anything but stupid. Her heartbeat quickens and she's hyperaware of his proximity, and their position. She could say no, but she'd always regret the missed chance. And really, she's a bit flattered that it's her and not Gwen he has cornered. She knows what he's asking, and knows he wants it from her willing. She drops to her knees.
"Knew you were smarter than they gave you credit for. Open up."
He's insouciantly cheerful about the whole thing, casual and decadent, and she can't help but be put at ease as he unbuttons himself and places himself at her open mouth. Now she has nothing directly at hand to distract her, just this intense maleness surrounding her. He hums, a low jaunty tune that she imagines has bawdy words, as she licks and sucks, doing everything she can to please him because what sort of amazing tricks can he show her with that thing?
"Oh you are lovely, aren't you, down on your knees, sucking like a pro," (punctuating each word with a slight thrust).
"Does Jack know what a little whore he has on staff? Does he know he could use you like the cunt you are in exchange for scraps of knowledge he takes for granted? Or is he too busy with the Eye Candy to bother with you? Not even worth using you, is it. Bet the Eye Candy was a challenge at least. But you, oh you lovely, lovely whore" and empties into her mouth. She swallows, and scrabbles to her feet, looking for a napkin or tissue on her desk, she must have something,
"Here, love" he says, offering her a fucking handkerchief of all things. Mind, Jack always has one too, so maybe it's another Time Agency thing? Really, how ignorant can she be? She can't meet his eyes, holding the damp cloth, hot and flustered, and aching in a way she hasn't since Mary first bumped her foot against her calf in that pub. He tips her chin up with those long, smooth fingers and gestures to his momentarily neglected wrist,
"Did you know this had a vibrate setting?"