Porn Battle Commentfics
I picked up more prompts. :) All were written for Porn Battle XI, which ends today. Everything is unbetaed.
Title: Because I Am Here Now
Author: nancybrown
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17
Summary: That he will go through this tonight, knowing it will be for nothing, makes it worth everything.
Warnings: READ THE PROMPT, FR SRS
Prompt: restraint, ownership, branding
***
Despite all the speculations by their colleagues and the rumours to the contrary sparked by Jack's impressive back catalogue, he's not into pain for sexual purposes. Ianto, for all his apparently insatiable curiosity concerning the limits of what each can inflict on the other, has tasted just enough of the sharp end to know his own desires lean more towards heady pleasure. Their days are spent tightly wrapped in clothes almost better suited as uniforms, but their nights, ah! Their nights, when not stolen away or carved into too-small pieces by the demands of work, are filled with scented oils, smooth silk, decadently dark chocolate, and butter-soft leather. Under the unlikely glow of a bare bulb in an underground bunker, they are learning indolence.
Tonight's not about pain. It's not even about ownership, though as the months have passed and they have fallen into one another out of something that is no longer just sex, there's a question between them, lingering. Ianto can't ask, and Jack will absolutely never say, and frankly, it's the conversations they don't have that makes whatever this is continue to work.
This needs to work. They are not the only two who've become reliant on the other being stable, being there.
Jack isn't into pain, but understands its many uses. He has fucked and been fucked raw, and he has bitten blood out, and he has bent lovers to scream, not always in joy. But they asked, they needed, he needed, there was an understanding.
There is understanding here. Jack can feel his feet leaving the planet with every step, and he wants to go, but he also needs grounding, needs to know the solidity of the Earth. And in this one thing, Ianto has the exact same desire. They can't put words to tonight. Tonight means they can skip the words. Tonight is need.
Jack's arms are bound, lovingly cinched down so that he won't hurt himself. Ianto presses hot kisses to the flesh peeking out from under each strap, worshiping the gift they are giving each other. He spends time as he would on any other night, sliding Jack's cock between his lips, sucking and bobbing until Jack is hard and covered with spit.
A smile touches his face, the first part of the job well-done.
Ianto gets the alcohol wipes and meticulously cleans the already smooth skin on Jack's inner thigh.
"You don't need that," Jack says, always in charge or trying to be. Some nights he manages to let himself lose control, be possessed, and those are the nights he manages to sleep deeply. Tomorrow, when this is finished, they will try that again. Tonight he needs the illusion of power, even as he is surrendering.
"I'm not risking an infection."
Jack doesn't point out that he will heal too soon for that worry, that he will die too soon. They both know. Nothing is forever, except Jack. That he will go through this tonight, knowing it will be for nothing, makes it worth everything to Ianto.
The metal is orange-hot. There ought to be a meaningful pattern, some pertinent design or binding rune, but it's just a plain X, and not even Jack is making a crack about it marking the spot. His eyes are huge as Ianto brings the metal closer. Heat radiates in the room, a dwarf star lighting their path.
Ianto holds it high and safe and away as he comes to Jack's mouth for a long kiss. His free hand is back at Jack's cock, stroking him, loving him. He dips his mouth down for a long lick. Jack's gaze is locked on the poker, and he makes a whine in his throat. They have a gag, unused beside him on the pillow, but his mouth is free to shout a stop at any time. He can say no.
Just the tip of his cock moves past Ianto's lips as his hand pumps. The hand holding the poker dips, but doesn't fall. Hands and lips move away. Jack is on the edge, wanting, needing. Not about pain, but about stability. Not about possession, but about desire.
"Do it," he says, but the poker is already on its downward arc, the skin held taut, and there is pain, so very much pain, and the poker is gone and the lips are back and sucking and Jack sobs as he comes, as he needs, as he belongs.
***
Title: Heliotrope
Author: nancybrown
Fandom: Voltron
Characters/Pairing: Allura/Keith
Rating: NC-17
Summary: It's just a moment, hidden away.
Prompt: dust, girls with guns, walls
AN: I have shipped these two since I was ten years old. In the dialogue, I was kind of aiming for the slightly cheesy feel of the original series, but I think I missed.
***
The craziest thing goes through his mind as his fingers are trying to work the zip of Allura's uniform: pink suits her. Keith grew up hearing the old Earth stories about pink for girls, blue for boys, and was told from the cradle how silly the notion was. But the edging of her uniform -- and why can't he work this thing? What's wrong with his fingers? -- adds a hyper-femininity to her otherwise practical suit, as if challenging anyone to think her lesser because she is a woman. In every other way, her uniform is a practical flight suit like his, outfitted with equipment and weapons, sweat-hot under the layers if only he could get there.
He realizes she is laughing, and he's pretty sure it's at him. "Hold on," she says, pushing his hands away. With a quick motion, she pulls the zipper back up and then delightfully down without catching, exposing throat, neck, the swell of breasts under her plain pink bra. "Take off your gloves, silly."
Keith looks down at his hands, which are indeed still covered. He's so eager to touch her, kiss her, that he forgot. Two quick pulls, he drops them to the ground. No one can see them here in the corner of two walls. Still, the thrill of these clandestine touches outside where they could be caught, this urges him on, even as Allura's moans do the same when he presses his lips against her pulse point.
Light pink skin becomes lush and dark under his lips and the nip of teeth. She'll wear that mark under the high collar of her pink royal gown, and only they will know. If he's lucky, if he begs, she'll mark him in a place no one else can see, and he'll know he is hers each time he takes a step.
There's a sound: people laughing, coming closer. They freeze. They meet eyes. They merge into one shadow in the corner, pressed up against the dusty wall so close they can't breathe. Her heartbeat is his, matching his heart.
The voices recede.
"We should go back," Keith says, pulling away reluctantly.
"We should hurry," she replies, and her zipper goes all the way down. Her blue eyes twinkle at him, daring him, and he smiles. He never could resist one of her dares.
He steps in again, and with more confidence than he feels, he kisses her hard on the mouth. With his left hand, he presses her back against the wall. With his right, he delves unerringly into her suit, into her panties (pink), and he slides two fingers deep into the most perfect pink of all.
They have been lovers for two months. The newness of passion is merging into the ease of known pleasure. He rocks his hand back and forth, rubbing his thumb just so, swallowing her voice as she makes encouraging sounds into his mouth. She is the princess he serves, she is the teammate he orders, she is his friend, and he has loved her more than a little from the day they first met. She is lovely in pink silks, she is amazing in her white and pink uniform, she is ideal as a woman with a gun and a plan, and all these things are "Allura," and "Allura" means everything.
She shivers all over, and she squeezes his body against hers hard, making his spine crackle with her always unexpected strength.
He's hard, and he wants, but they don't have time to stay here.
She's still trembling as he withdraws his hand, as she collects herself and zips her suit, breath caught in a pleasantly ragged way. "Tonight," she says, in hope and promise, and she bends to retrieve his gloves for him, giving him a sight of what's yet to be.
Tonight, yes, but if tonight doesn't come soon, he'll have to take himself in hand just so tonight lasts any length of time at all. A grin passes over his face.
"What is it?"
"Nothing. Just considering the services I do for my princess, Princess."
"Oh, you." She bends in again for one last kiss before they emerge from their shadow. Her lips are flushed and pink, like a berry, like a sunset, like a sunrise on a brand new day.
***
Title: A Million Tomorrows
Author: nancybrown
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairing: Mary/Toshiko
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Trust me," Mary said.
Prompt: trust
***
"Trust me," Mary said, looping the long nylon cord around her wrists behind her back. Not too tight, not loose enough to wriggle free, Toshiko tested them. Her heart began pounding, sense-memories of UNIT, of the villagers, and Mary placed her hand in the hollow between Tosh's breasts, over her heart.
"It's going to be all right," she soothed, kissing Tosh's neck. "Do you believe me?"
"I don't … I'm not into bondage," Tosh said, stumbling over the words.
"Think of it as letting me take care of you. Nobody's taken care of you for a long time, have they?"
Tosh's thoughts settled on wounds old and new. "No."
"Just say the word, and we can be done this." Mary leaned in, lips against Tosh's ear. "Please say yes."
Tosh nodded, not trusting her voice. When the blindfold came, she gasped, but held still as Mary tightened the knot. There was an edge of light, nothing she could see by.
"Stay." A minute passed. Tosh had time to wonder, time to think, and this wasn't about thinking. The bed dipped and she smelled Mary's clean hair against her nose as warm lips touched her cheek. "Good. Now open your mouth."
Tosh swallowed, and then obeyed. Something gentle, bumpy, sweet, wet pushed past her lips, and she licked. The flavour tingled her tongue. "Take a bite." Tosh bit down, and the sweet flesh of the strawberry burst into her mouth, soaked in the champagne Mary had dipped it in before feeding her. She chewed her bite, wondering if she looked ridiculous. "You look amazing," said Mary, and she rubbed the raw inside of the berry over Tosh's lips like gloss, then took her time licking the sweetness away. Her tongue slipped into Tosh's mouth.
The next berry was dipped in chocolate. Mary rubbed juice and syrup over Tosh's left breast, then cleaned it off, avoiding the nipple no matter how Tosh squirmed. "Tease," Tosh breathed, and Mary laughed. She popped the berry into Tosh's mouth, encouraged her to chew, then kissed her as she tried to swallow. It was messy, and delicious, and weird, and Tosh's head swam from lack of oxygen and excess of delight.
Mary drew another berry up from Tosh's navel, up her torso, up her chin, brushing across her mouth. Tosh was ready for this game, but as she went to nip, Mary pulled it away. "Not yet. I have to dip it first."
The strawberry travelled down her body again. Tosh shivered, arms aching against the cords. Mary's mouth pressed unexpectedly against her throat as the berry slid between Tosh's legs and into her folds. The berry's cold, rough skin brushed exactly where she wanted.
"Do you trust me?"
"Yes."
"Do. You. Trust. Me."
"Yes!" Her shout rattled the window.
The neighbours would hear. Everyone would hear. She didn't care.
Mary pushed the strawberry against her, and slipped two perfect fingers inside, and Tosh trusted her completely.
***
Title: Proxy
Author: nancybrown
Fandom: DW/TW
Characters/Pairing: Ianto/Rose
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Shagging the boss's daughter has some benefits other than the obvious.
Prompt: suit
AN: I am so damned pleased with how this turned out, I honestly don't care if nobody end on the planet likes it.
***
Shagging the boss's daughter -- the official story is "adopted" but he knows better now -- has some benefits other than the obvious. Rose is obsessed with her dimensional cannon project, but if she wants to blow off steam in the middle of a work day, no-one will argue with her when she drops by Ianto's desk and gives him that look. The other blokes in his department kid him about his "coffee breaks," and there's not one of them who isn't a little jealous.
They've been in this empty office less than a minute. He's already buried inside her, has her pushed up against the wall while her nails rake furrows into his suit jacket. Rose likes his suits, all of them, but the pinstripe is best. Because he's him, he's timed her with the stopwatch in his pocket and knows on the days he wears this suit, she gets off thirty-seven seconds faster, on average. One night when they were drinking, he made her a chart. That sobered her up so fast that he never mentioned it again.
Their arrangement needs to stay simple, he thinks, holding her up with one arm and delving between their bodies with his fingers, stroking her where they join, rubbing a firm knuckle against her clit. No talk of pinstripe suits, no questions why she isn't sleeping with her otherwise inseparable friend Smith, just tight, hot, smooth wetness between her legs, and mumbled curses when she comes.
After, they're sore and spent, sitting side by side against the wall where they fucked. Rose kisses him then, only ever then. "Thanks."
"Bad day?" He ought to straighten his clothes, but he's too tired.
She nods. "The power relays again."
She's said the project is nearly complete, and he knows what that means. When the cannon is functional, Rose will cross through to the other world and never come back. If this were more than sex, more than her relieving tension with a warm body who cleans up well for the occasional visit to the Tyler mansion, more than his extended grief over Lisa remoulded into something more physical and real, he'd feel rejected. But it's not.
"Are there doubles of everyone in that other universe?"
She shrugs. He's asked before in different ways, and they both know what he wants to know. "I'll look you up," she says with a grin, but she doesn't mean it. The other him isn't the one she's doing all this for.
"Do." He stands up, offering her a hand, helping her adjust herself so she doesn't look so recently shagged. Just because everyone knows is no reason not to be discreet. "Mind if I join you for a bit?"
"Of course not." Rose takes his hand. "Maybe you'll notice something we haven't."
It's a joke. Ianto's background isn't anywhere near this level of technology. Rose's interest in him extends to his tongue and his hands and his cock, not to his brain. Still, he offers her a polite smile. Sleeping with the boss's daughter means access to the top-secret work she's overseeing, means paying close and unobserved attention to the equipment and its operation.
Someday soon, Rose will go through to another universe to find her Doctor. Ianto might just decide to follow her to see if that other world also has a Lisa.
"Maybe I will."
(ETA: Sequel: The Alternate)
***
Title: Because I Am Here Now
Author: nancybrown
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17
Summary: That he will go through this tonight, knowing it will be for nothing, makes it worth everything.
Warnings: READ THE PROMPT, FR SRS
Prompt: restraint, ownership, branding
***
Despite all the speculations by their colleagues and the rumours to the contrary sparked by Jack's impressive back catalogue, he's not into pain for sexual purposes. Ianto, for all his apparently insatiable curiosity concerning the limits of what each can inflict on the other, has tasted just enough of the sharp end to know his own desires lean more towards heady pleasure. Their days are spent tightly wrapped in clothes almost better suited as uniforms, but their nights, ah! Their nights, when not stolen away or carved into too-small pieces by the demands of work, are filled with scented oils, smooth silk, decadently dark chocolate, and butter-soft leather. Under the unlikely glow of a bare bulb in an underground bunker, they are learning indolence.
Tonight's not about pain. It's not even about ownership, though as the months have passed and they have fallen into one another out of something that is no longer just sex, there's a question between them, lingering. Ianto can't ask, and Jack will absolutely never say, and frankly, it's the conversations they don't have that makes whatever this is continue to work.
This needs to work. They are not the only two who've become reliant on the other being stable, being there.
Jack isn't into pain, but understands its many uses. He has fucked and been fucked raw, and he has bitten blood out, and he has bent lovers to scream, not always in joy. But they asked, they needed, he needed, there was an understanding.
There is understanding here. Jack can feel his feet leaving the planet with every step, and he wants to go, but he also needs grounding, needs to know the solidity of the Earth. And in this one thing, Ianto has the exact same desire. They can't put words to tonight. Tonight means they can skip the words. Tonight is need.
Jack's arms are bound, lovingly cinched down so that he won't hurt himself. Ianto presses hot kisses to the flesh peeking out from under each strap, worshiping the gift they are giving each other. He spends time as he would on any other night, sliding Jack's cock between his lips, sucking and bobbing until Jack is hard and covered with spit.
A smile touches his face, the first part of the job well-done.
Ianto gets the alcohol wipes and meticulously cleans the already smooth skin on Jack's inner thigh.
"You don't need that," Jack says, always in charge or trying to be. Some nights he manages to let himself lose control, be possessed, and those are the nights he manages to sleep deeply. Tomorrow, when this is finished, they will try that again. Tonight he needs the illusion of power, even as he is surrendering.
"I'm not risking an infection."
Jack doesn't point out that he will heal too soon for that worry, that he will die too soon. They both know. Nothing is forever, except Jack. That he will go through this tonight, knowing it will be for nothing, makes it worth everything to Ianto.
The metal is orange-hot. There ought to be a meaningful pattern, some pertinent design or binding rune, but it's just a plain X, and not even Jack is making a crack about it marking the spot. His eyes are huge as Ianto brings the metal closer. Heat radiates in the room, a dwarf star lighting their path.
Ianto holds it high and safe and away as he comes to Jack's mouth for a long kiss. His free hand is back at Jack's cock, stroking him, loving him. He dips his mouth down for a long lick. Jack's gaze is locked on the poker, and he makes a whine in his throat. They have a gag, unused beside him on the pillow, but his mouth is free to shout a stop at any time. He can say no.
Just the tip of his cock moves past Ianto's lips as his hand pumps. The hand holding the poker dips, but doesn't fall. Hands and lips move away. Jack is on the edge, wanting, needing. Not about pain, but about stability. Not about possession, but about desire.
"Do it," he says, but the poker is already on its downward arc, the skin held taut, and there is pain, so very much pain, and the poker is gone and the lips are back and sucking and Jack sobs as he comes, as he needs, as he belongs.
***
Title: Heliotrope
Author: nancybrown
Fandom: Voltron
Characters/Pairing: Allura/Keith
Rating: NC-17
Summary: It's just a moment, hidden away.
Prompt: dust, girls with guns, walls
AN: I have shipped these two since I was ten years old. In the dialogue, I was kind of aiming for the slightly cheesy feel of the original series, but I think I missed.
***
The craziest thing goes through his mind as his fingers are trying to work the zip of Allura's uniform: pink suits her. Keith grew up hearing the old Earth stories about pink for girls, blue for boys, and was told from the cradle how silly the notion was. But the edging of her uniform -- and why can't he work this thing? What's wrong with his fingers? -- adds a hyper-femininity to her otherwise practical suit, as if challenging anyone to think her lesser because she is a woman. In every other way, her uniform is a practical flight suit like his, outfitted with equipment and weapons, sweat-hot under the layers if only he could get there.
He realizes she is laughing, and he's pretty sure it's at him. "Hold on," she says, pushing his hands away. With a quick motion, she pulls the zipper back up and then delightfully down without catching, exposing throat, neck, the swell of breasts under her plain pink bra. "Take off your gloves, silly."
Keith looks down at his hands, which are indeed still covered. He's so eager to touch her, kiss her, that he forgot. Two quick pulls, he drops them to the ground. No one can see them here in the corner of two walls. Still, the thrill of these clandestine touches outside where they could be caught, this urges him on, even as Allura's moans do the same when he presses his lips against her pulse point.
Light pink skin becomes lush and dark under his lips and the nip of teeth. She'll wear that mark under the high collar of her pink royal gown, and only they will know. If he's lucky, if he begs, she'll mark him in a place no one else can see, and he'll know he is hers each time he takes a step.
There's a sound: people laughing, coming closer. They freeze. They meet eyes. They merge into one shadow in the corner, pressed up against the dusty wall so close they can't breathe. Her heartbeat is his, matching his heart.
The voices recede.
"We should go back," Keith says, pulling away reluctantly.
"We should hurry," she replies, and her zipper goes all the way down. Her blue eyes twinkle at him, daring him, and he smiles. He never could resist one of her dares.
He steps in again, and with more confidence than he feels, he kisses her hard on the mouth. With his left hand, he presses her back against the wall. With his right, he delves unerringly into her suit, into her panties (pink), and he slides two fingers deep into the most perfect pink of all.
They have been lovers for two months. The newness of passion is merging into the ease of known pleasure. He rocks his hand back and forth, rubbing his thumb just so, swallowing her voice as she makes encouraging sounds into his mouth. She is the princess he serves, she is the teammate he orders, she is his friend, and he has loved her more than a little from the day they first met. She is lovely in pink silks, she is amazing in her white and pink uniform, she is ideal as a woman with a gun and a plan, and all these things are "Allura," and "Allura" means everything.
She shivers all over, and she squeezes his body against hers hard, making his spine crackle with her always unexpected strength.
He's hard, and he wants, but they don't have time to stay here.
She's still trembling as he withdraws his hand, as she collects herself and zips her suit, breath caught in a pleasantly ragged way. "Tonight," she says, in hope and promise, and she bends to retrieve his gloves for him, giving him a sight of what's yet to be.
Tonight, yes, but if tonight doesn't come soon, he'll have to take himself in hand just so tonight lasts any length of time at all. A grin passes over his face.
"What is it?"
"Nothing. Just considering the services I do for my princess, Princess."
"Oh, you." She bends in again for one last kiss before they emerge from their shadow. Her lips are flushed and pink, like a berry, like a sunset, like a sunrise on a brand new day.
***
Title: A Million Tomorrows
Author: nancybrown
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairing: Mary/Toshiko
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "Trust me," Mary said.
Prompt: trust
***
"Trust me," Mary said, looping the long nylon cord around her wrists behind her back. Not too tight, not loose enough to wriggle free, Toshiko tested them. Her heart began pounding, sense-memories of UNIT, of the villagers, and Mary placed her hand in the hollow between Tosh's breasts, over her heart.
"It's going to be all right," she soothed, kissing Tosh's neck. "Do you believe me?"
"I don't … I'm not into bondage," Tosh said, stumbling over the words.
"Think of it as letting me take care of you. Nobody's taken care of you for a long time, have they?"
Tosh's thoughts settled on wounds old and new. "No."
"Just say the word, and we can be done this." Mary leaned in, lips against Tosh's ear. "Please say yes."
Tosh nodded, not trusting her voice. When the blindfold came, she gasped, but held still as Mary tightened the knot. There was an edge of light, nothing she could see by.
"Stay." A minute passed. Tosh had time to wonder, time to think, and this wasn't about thinking. The bed dipped and she smelled Mary's clean hair against her nose as warm lips touched her cheek. "Good. Now open your mouth."
Tosh swallowed, and then obeyed. Something gentle, bumpy, sweet, wet pushed past her lips, and she licked. The flavour tingled her tongue. "Take a bite." Tosh bit down, and the sweet flesh of the strawberry burst into her mouth, soaked in the champagne Mary had dipped it in before feeding her. She chewed her bite, wondering if she looked ridiculous. "You look amazing," said Mary, and she rubbed the raw inside of the berry over Tosh's lips like gloss, then took her time licking the sweetness away. Her tongue slipped into Tosh's mouth.
The next berry was dipped in chocolate. Mary rubbed juice and syrup over Tosh's left breast, then cleaned it off, avoiding the nipple no matter how Tosh squirmed. "Tease," Tosh breathed, and Mary laughed. She popped the berry into Tosh's mouth, encouraged her to chew, then kissed her as she tried to swallow. It was messy, and delicious, and weird, and Tosh's head swam from lack of oxygen and excess of delight.
Mary drew another berry up from Tosh's navel, up her torso, up her chin, brushing across her mouth. Tosh was ready for this game, but as she went to nip, Mary pulled it away. "Not yet. I have to dip it first."
The strawberry travelled down her body again. Tosh shivered, arms aching against the cords. Mary's mouth pressed unexpectedly against her throat as the berry slid between Tosh's legs and into her folds. The berry's cold, rough skin brushed exactly where she wanted.
"Do you trust me?"
"Yes."
"Do. You. Trust. Me."
"Yes!" Her shout rattled the window.
The neighbours would hear. Everyone would hear. She didn't care.
Mary pushed the strawberry against her, and slipped two perfect fingers inside, and Tosh trusted her completely.
***
Title: Proxy
Author: nancybrown
Fandom: DW/TW
Characters/Pairing: Ianto/Rose
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Shagging the boss's daughter has some benefits other than the obvious.
Prompt: suit
AN: I am so damned pleased with how this turned out, I honestly don't care if nobody end on the planet likes it.
***
Shagging the boss's daughter -- the official story is "adopted" but he knows better now -- has some benefits other than the obvious. Rose is obsessed with her dimensional cannon project, but if she wants to blow off steam in the middle of a work day, no-one will argue with her when she drops by Ianto's desk and gives him that look. The other blokes in his department kid him about his "coffee breaks," and there's not one of them who isn't a little jealous.
They've been in this empty office less than a minute. He's already buried inside her, has her pushed up against the wall while her nails rake furrows into his suit jacket. Rose likes his suits, all of them, but the pinstripe is best. Because he's him, he's timed her with the stopwatch in his pocket and knows on the days he wears this suit, she gets off thirty-seven seconds faster, on average. One night when they were drinking, he made her a chart. That sobered her up so fast that he never mentioned it again.
Their arrangement needs to stay simple, he thinks, holding her up with one arm and delving between their bodies with his fingers, stroking her where they join, rubbing a firm knuckle against her clit. No talk of pinstripe suits, no questions why she isn't sleeping with her otherwise inseparable friend Smith, just tight, hot, smooth wetness between her legs, and mumbled curses when she comes.
After, they're sore and spent, sitting side by side against the wall where they fucked. Rose kisses him then, only ever then. "Thanks."
"Bad day?" He ought to straighten his clothes, but he's too tired.
She nods. "The power relays again."
She's said the project is nearly complete, and he knows what that means. When the cannon is functional, Rose will cross through to the other world and never come back. If this were more than sex, more than her relieving tension with a warm body who cleans up well for the occasional visit to the Tyler mansion, more than his extended grief over Lisa remoulded into something more physical and real, he'd feel rejected. But it's not.
"Are there doubles of everyone in that other universe?"
She shrugs. He's asked before in different ways, and they both know what he wants to know. "I'll look you up," she says with a grin, but she doesn't mean it. The other him isn't the one she's doing all this for.
"Do." He stands up, offering her a hand, helping her adjust herself so she doesn't look so recently shagged. Just because everyone knows is no reason not to be discreet. "Mind if I join you for a bit?"
"Of course not." Rose takes his hand. "Maybe you'll notice something we haven't."
It's a joke. Ianto's background isn't anywhere near this level of technology. Rose's interest in him extends to his tongue and his hands and his cock, not to his brain. Still, he offers her a polite smile. Sleeping with the boss's daughter means access to the top-secret work she's overseeing, means paying close and unobserved attention to the equipment and its operation.
Someday soon, Rose will go through to another universe to find her Doctor. Ianto might just decide to follow her to see if that other world also has a Lisa.
"Maybe I will."
(ETA: Sequel: The Alternate)
***