(no subject)
Title: Things
Author: SsssSSSssSSSss
Fandom: That One
People: Amongst others? the_jacksparrow, datapwns, myself and bigbadakutsu (because a fic without him is a grievance).
Notes: Shopping and other activities.
Captain Jack Sparrow fell onto Crowley's couch with a flourish of strange hand movements and a drunken sort of stagger. Crowley ignored him, flipping through the channels and settling on the home shopping network. "Bloody gauche fucking gold lining," he muttered to himself, settling back.
Jack scooted up further, insinuating his head on Crowley's lap. "Hello, luv."
Crowley looked down at him, smiling faintly. "I see you've come back empty-handed," he remarked casually. "I thought you were buying trousers."
Jack leered. "That was a bit of a lie."
"Only a bit?" asked Crowley, sliding one hand down Jack's neck - then, even more slowly, down to his chest, rubbing gently. "So what were you really doing?" he asked. "Sight-seeing?"
"Mmm..." he said, stretching out on the couch, one hand landing precariously between Crowley's legs. "You could call it that, mate."
"I see," said Crowley, smile widening to match Jack's self-satisfied grin. "I'm guessing I'd be far more likely to call it something like -"
"Exactly," interrupted Jack, running his thumb across Crowley's lips, quieting him momentarily. "The mirror was a bloody fortunate addition."
"Hm," said Crowley, tongue slipping from between his lips, licking the proferred thumb. He enjoyed the soft shudder of Jack's body for a second or two before ceasing. "I can imagine."
Jack winked. "I bet you can."
"Tennis?" asked Crowley, his fingers splayed, traveling down the smooth contours of Jack's chest.
"O' course," said Jack easily. "Renji had a hard time deciding."
"Hard time indeed," murmured Crowley, not minding when calloused fingers rubbed across his own, guiding him downward.
"You have a one-track mind," grinned Jack. "Anyone ever told you that?"
"They may have," answered Crowley absentmindedly as his hand slipped below Jack's poorly-tightened trousers. The spark in his eyes burned bright behind dark shades as his fingers wrapped around Jack. "Mossssssstly, I can't ssssssay I've had many complaintsssssss..."
Jack muttered something unintelligble yet wholly appreciative as Crowley's thumb skimmed the head of his cock, wiping the beaded pearls of precome down the hard, smooth shaft. Jack moaned, eyes closing, the thick smuged line of charcoal making Crowley's eyes narrow.
"What elsssssse did you two do?"
Jack's eyelids fluttered open and shut. "...licked."
"...mm," said Crowley, watching Jack's face attentively, enjoying the subtle changes from drunkenness to arousal. "Where?"
"Everywhere I could," said Jack, his voice low. Crowley's hand sped up, heart beating fast in his chest, licking his lips as Jack arched, his head digging more firmly into his legs, hand fisted in the hem of Crowley's dark suit. He watched Jack's body twist as he came, spilling over his hand in thick streams, lips open, breathing hard. He looked closer as Jack's body rested, a sigh of content and a grin to match lining his features.
"...good, eh?" asked Crowley conversationally, as if they'd just been playing chess.
"Cheeky," grumbled Jack. Minutes passed; Jack's eyes opened. "Where were you this morning?"
"On a walk," said Crowley.
"Where?"
"Er." Crowley reached for the remote and flipped through a few channels. "I went to see someone."
Jack rolled his eyes. "Not that one fellow."
Crowley smiled down at Jack. "Yes, him."
"What did he say?" asked Jack, yawning.
"I believe his exact words were: 'What the fucking fuck is fucking wrong with you, you snakey fucking fuckwit.'"
Jack nodded drunkenly whilst completely sober (he's got a knack for it, one must confess). "Charmer."
Crowley's eyes gleamed from behind smoky shades. He thought of Akutsu, bright hair standing tall, swears of "fuck" just waiting to fall from his lips. "Quite."
"Did he let you touch?" asked Jack, turning on his side, facing Crowley.
Crowley ran thin, pale hands through Jack's hair, brushing back the long black locks, smearing the charcoal-like eyes with a sense of familarity; a sense of relish; a sense of understanding. "Yessss," he said. "At least, he didn't seem to mind my hand on his shoulder for a whole three seconds."
"...you slapped him on the arse, didn't you."
Crowley smirked wickedly. "Well. Yes."
"Is that when he yelled?"
"Well, no," said Crowley smoothly. "Not until Dan showed up."
"So he liked it."
A thoughtful tilt of the head, a smile, and a few channels later, Crowley answered. "It's possssssssssible."
"Fantastic," said Jack, cuddling closer, threading his fingers through Crowley's. "You'll have him bedded in a fortnight."
Crowley removed his shades with his free hand, looking down at Jack with unveiled, yellow eyes. "Yessss," he said pleasantly as he watched Jack drift off. "I should think sssssssssssssso."
Author: SsssSSSssSSSss
Fandom: That One
People: Amongst others? the_jacksparrow, datapwns, myself and bigbadakutsu (because a fic without him is a grievance).
Notes: Shopping and other activities.
Captain Jack Sparrow fell onto Crowley's couch with a flourish of strange hand movements and a drunken sort of stagger. Crowley ignored him, flipping through the channels and settling on the home shopping network. "Bloody gauche fucking gold lining," he muttered to himself, settling back.
Jack scooted up further, insinuating his head on Crowley's lap. "Hello, luv."
Crowley looked down at him, smiling faintly. "I see you've come back empty-handed," he remarked casually. "I thought you were buying trousers."
Jack leered. "That was a bit of a lie."
"Only a bit?" asked Crowley, sliding one hand down Jack's neck - then, even more slowly, down to his chest, rubbing gently. "So what were you really doing?" he asked. "Sight-seeing?"
"Mmm..." he said, stretching out on the couch, one hand landing precariously between Crowley's legs. "You could call it that, mate."
"I see," said Crowley, smile widening to match Jack's self-satisfied grin. "I'm guessing I'd be far more likely to call it something like -"
"Exactly," interrupted Jack, running his thumb across Crowley's lips, quieting him momentarily. "The mirror was a bloody fortunate addition."
"Hm," said Crowley, tongue slipping from between his lips, licking the proferred thumb. He enjoyed the soft shudder of Jack's body for a second or two before ceasing. "I can imagine."
Jack winked. "I bet you can."
"Tennis?" asked Crowley, his fingers splayed, traveling down the smooth contours of Jack's chest.
"O' course," said Jack easily. "Renji had a hard time deciding."
"Hard time indeed," murmured Crowley, not minding when calloused fingers rubbed across his own, guiding him downward.
"You have a one-track mind," grinned Jack. "Anyone ever told you that?"
"They may have," answered Crowley absentmindedly as his hand slipped below Jack's poorly-tightened trousers. The spark in his eyes burned bright behind dark shades as his fingers wrapped around Jack. "Mossssssstly, I can't ssssssay I've had many complaintsssssss..."
Jack muttered something unintelligble yet wholly appreciative as Crowley's thumb skimmed the head of his cock, wiping the beaded pearls of precome down the hard, smooth shaft. Jack moaned, eyes closing, the thick smuged line of charcoal making Crowley's eyes narrow.
"What elsssssse did you two do?"
Jack's eyelids fluttered open and shut. "...licked."
"...mm," said Crowley, watching Jack's face attentively, enjoying the subtle changes from drunkenness to arousal. "Where?"
"Everywhere I could," said Jack, his voice low. Crowley's hand sped up, heart beating fast in his chest, licking his lips as Jack arched, his head digging more firmly into his legs, hand fisted in the hem of Crowley's dark suit. He watched Jack's body twist as he came, spilling over his hand in thick streams, lips open, breathing hard. He looked closer as Jack's body rested, a sigh of content and a grin to match lining his features.
"...good, eh?" asked Crowley conversationally, as if they'd just been playing chess.
"Cheeky," grumbled Jack. Minutes passed; Jack's eyes opened. "Where were you this morning?"
"On a walk," said Crowley.
"Where?"
"Er." Crowley reached for the remote and flipped through a few channels. "I went to see someone."
Jack rolled his eyes. "Not that one fellow."
Crowley smiled down at Jack. "Yes, him."
"What did he say?" asked Jack, yawning.
"I believe his exact words were: 'What the fucking fuck is fucking wrong with you, you snakey fucking fuckwit.'"
Jack nodded drunkenly whilst completely sober (he's got a knack for it, one must confess). "Charmer."
Crowley's eyes gleamed from behind smoky shades. He thought of Akutsu, bright hair standing tall, swears of "fuck" just waiting to fall from his lips. "Quite."
"Did he let you touch?" asked Jack, turning on his side, facing Crowley.
Crowley ran thin, pale hands through Jack's hair, brushing back the long black locks, smearing the charcoal-like eyes with a sense of familarity; a sense of relish; a sense of understanding. "Yessss," he said. "At least, he didn't seem to mind my hand on his shoulder for a whole three seconds."
"...you slapped him on the arse, didn't you."
Crowley smirked wickedly. "Well. Yes."
"Is that when he yelled?"
"Well, no," said Crowley smoothly. "Not until Dan showed up."
"So he liked it."
A thoughtful tilt of the head, a smile, and a few channels later, Crowley answered. "It's possssssssssible."
"Fantastic," said Jack, cuddling closer, threading his fingers through Crowley's. "You'll have him bedded in a fortnight."
Crowley removed his shades with his free hand, looking down at Jack with unveiled, yellow eyes. "Yessss," he said pleasantly as he watched Jack drift off. "I should think sssssssssssssso."