51stcenturyfox | *Comment Porn Battle Post* AMTDI/SUV Sex/Solo Sex

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Comment Porn Battle Post AMTDI/SUV Sex/Solo Sex

http://pics.livejournal.com/51stcenturyfox/pic/00054tqy

Hey, it's party time! Everybody's welcome to kick in some porn!

Yes, three themes this weekend: Aliens Made Them Do it, Sex in the Torchwood SUV and Solo Sexing!

You can combine or choose one.

1. This should relate to TW or Doctor Who in some way. Crossovers are fine! The SUV counts as a character.
2. It should fit in the comment box. (That's about 500 words, max.) Please put the fandom and pairing in the subject line.
Example: Torchwood Jack/Tosh
3. If you wish to write something longer, just add a summary or snippet and link to your LJ, or reply to your first comment with extra porn.
4. WIP snippets are fine, but the story shouldn't be published earlier - the Battles are for new sexy things. :)
5. Anon commenting is turned on with screening, in case you prefer to be anonymous.
6. Any ship-war sniping/negativity will be deleted.

Give posters a chance to edit, etc. before replying to a porn post, please. You know how that ruddy preview thing works (badly).

Any issues/queries- just message Andreth or Foxy. Chat/Discussion thread here. Soundtrack by

andreth47 (click pop-out player to keep the stream up in a new window).

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Shy anon is still shy...but more pornographic this time!

Wanking, voyeurism, and a dash of femmeslash to round it out. Absent!Jack Made Them Do It!

---

"Tosh," Gwen had said -- almost the first thing after Jack left, left for two months to work undercover with UNIT, and Ianto was already looking depressive -- "Can you do something for me? It's a little above-and-beyond, but..."

"I can try," Tosh had said, because whatever other issues Gwen had (legion), she was a good leader. "What did you need?"

"It's Ianto. I'm sure he'll be fine, he knows Jack's coming back, but..." Gwen looked worried. "You know he sometimes gets moody about it. And he'll never show it."

"Moody," Tosh said, remembering the time after Lisa, when she'd heard Ianto's internal misery even as he cheerfully asked if she wanted coffee. "Yeah."

"Can you just keep an eye on him for me? Make sure we don't lose track of him? Know where he is, that kind of thing."

"Oh!" Tosh had said, smiling. "That's no problem at all."

This was not what she had expected.

Granted, it had been her own bright idea to write a little macro into mainframe to notify her of Ianto's comings and goings, and to bring up a camera of the archives when he was down there filing. And so far he'd just been filing, so she'd keep one eye on him and put the rest of the attention on her work.

Then he'd finished work for the day, a week into Jack's absence, and leaned up against a filing cabinet, and --

"Oh, my god!" she said, before she thought about it.

"What?" Gwen asked.

Tosh spent a split-second wondering if she should tell Gwen, or if she should protect Ianto's privacy, but frankly...well, they all lived in each other's pockets anyway, and she sort of felt that in an odd way Gwen deserved to see.

"Come here," she said, lowering her voice and jerking her head at the computer screen. Gwen frowned and joined her at her desk. After a second, her eyes went gratifyingly wide.

"Oh my god!" Gwen agreed.

Ianto had one hand on the drawer of the filing cabinet and his forehead pressed against it, eyes closed, lips parted slightly. He might have been crying or in pain, except...

His suit coat was off, sleeves rolled up, and his trousers hung open, belt dangling down, a hint of white on the grainy CCTV to show where his briefs had been shoved low on his hips. His right hand was moving rhythmically, and Tosh found herself wishing his trousers were just a little lower. She could see the dark head of his cock, but not much more --

For shame, she thought, objectifying a colleague! And yet...

"He's fit under the suit, isn't he?" Gwen asked, eyes glued to the screen. Ianto sucked in a sharp gasp of air. "I see why Jack keeps him around."

"Gwen!"

"Not like that!" Gwen said. "Just...well, he's very pretty."

"And size does matter," Tosh murmured. Gwen giggled. Ianto, oblivious to his audience three floors above, bucked his hips sharply. Tosh made a soft little noise.

"Wish we had audio," Gwen said idly. Tosh glanced at her, and found her frowning. "But it's...sort of sad, isn't it?"

"He doesn't look sad," Tosh observed. Ianto looked anything but sad, with his long dark lashes against his cheeks and his mouth open wider now, tongue darting out to lick his lips.

"Having a wank down in the archives, I mean. He must miss Jack terribly, but he can't be very comfortable. Standing up and dressed and everything."

On the screen, Ianto ducked his head lower and his shoulders heaved.

"Maybe he needs a hand," Tosh said, meaning it as a joke. As if he'd heard her, Ianto bucked again.

"Would you? If you thought Jack wouldn't mind?" Gwen asked.

"Me? I don't think Jack would mind. But I don't know that Ianto'd be interested."

"He's twenty-five. Trust me, he's interested," Gwen said, and then made a horrified noise. "I don't mean like that, Tosh! I just mean -- I'm sure he'd find you very appealing."

Tosh bit her lip to keep from laughing. Sometimes, Gwen was unintentionally hilarious. Ianto was shifting now, still leaning against the file-cabinet but constantly moving, hips thrusting into his hand, fingers of his other hand flexing and uncurling against the metal.

"Sure, I would," Tosh said, as Gwen leaned forward for a better view. She couldn't help but notice Gwen's breasts, swaying a little, and the slight rise where her nipples pressed through bra and t-shirt.

"Someone ought to," she continued, swallowing. She shifted minutely in the chair. "But that'd be weird, don't you think? Would you, if...Rhys...?"

"Oh yes," Gwen said. "Ianto's a little skinny for my type, mind."

There was a moment of contemplative silence; on the screen Ianto had turned his head to the side and she could see his face, his open mouth, could almost see even through the CCTV the high flush in his cheeks. It was voyeuristic, no doubt, and a little taboo, but wasn't that the appeal of it? With Gwen's arm brushing hers and the low tightness of her own arousal making it difficult to sit still. Ianto was very fit, and his body had turned enough for her to see almost all of his cock as his hand moved faster.

"Do you think -- "

"What about if we -- "

They both spoke at the same time, and Gwen gave a nervous laugh. "You first."

"No, you," Tosh said, trying not to look at Gwen's breasts. Which meant looking back at Ianto, and the soft skin of his waist, his long fingers. He'd slowed -- he was drawing it out, she realised, enjoying himself now.

"It would be good for the team," Gwen breathed. "Torchwood business. Rhys wouldn't have to know. And then it wouldn't be...weird, just one of us, if it were both."

"Fun," Tosh agreed. Ianto ducked his head and began to move quickly again, long even strokes. "But it'd be us, too..."

Gwen turned her head, and Tosh saw a slight grin on her face. She leaned across to zoom in the camera just a little, and her arm brushed against Tosh's breasts.

"I wouldn't mind," she said.

On the screen, Ianto's body tensed and then his hips jerked one last time. He was still for a moment, and both women held their breath until he relaxed slightly, still breathing hard.

Tosh turned away as Ianto straightened and began tidying up. Watching him pull his pants up slightly and buckle his belt somehow made it more...real, less of a fantasy, and more invasive to watch.

"So...?" she asked. Gwen nodded. She closed the CCTV window and sat contemplating the idea, Gwen still leaning against her chair, until Ianto appeared in the doorway from the archives. He looked as neatly-assembled as ever, not a hint in his face of what he'd been doing in the archives.

Tosh looked up at Gwen, and Gwen looked at her, and both of them tried not to look directly at Ianto, or to laugh at how little he knew about what they were planning. When a few giggles escaped, Ianto gave them an inquiring smile, but didn't speak as he passed them on his way to make the afternoon coffee.

For shame, she thought, objectifying a colleague! And yet...

Because no one at Torchwood would EVER do such a thing!

"He's fit under the suit, isn't he?" Gwen asked, eyes glued to the screen. Ianto sucked in a sharp gasp of air. "I see why Jack keeps him around."

Very, very nice... and I've never seen this scenario before. Hot and adorable!

This is kinky and sweet. Nice! I got quite a kick out of how the women are busily justifying themselves ahead of time.

"It would be good for the team," Gwen breathed. "Torchwood business."

'Taking one for the team' seems to be a real theme this battle...

ROFL, I loved it! I was going to get off the computer, but this drew me in. Yeah, good for the team, Gwen, just keep telling yourself that, haha. Perfect!

*Final Part*

It was Rhys’s first trip in the SUV when the gray box activated for the last time. They were still in the garage; Rhys, Gwen and Ianto in the SUV, dark heads bent over an alien device that had latched itself to Gwen’s ankle and the floor of the vehicle. Jack had run into the Hub to get a tool he said he knew would do the trick. Rhys had only been trying to increase the interior lighting, but when he hit the gray box instead, it lit up one light and emitted a golden mist.

He frowned up at the box. “Um, Gwen? I think I may have accidentally done something a little wrong.”

Gwen sneezed. “Oh, my God.” Her fingers fumbled with the buttons of her shirt and Rhys gaped as Ianto turned his wife’s face towards him and kissed her deeply.

“Hey! Hey, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Rhys protested loudly, sneezed himself, and then found himself being kissed quite soundly by Ianto. To his shock, it felt really, really good. Only Ianto was wearing way too many clothes and he pushed at the other man’s jacket even as he was vaguely aware of Gwen undoing Ianto’s belt.

When Ianto’s fingers tugged on his own belt buckle, though, he shook his head hard, trying desperately to think clearly. “Something weird is going on,” he muttered, pulling his shirt off over his head.

Ianto grunted, and helped him slide his jeans and boxers down his legs. “It’s Torchwood. Relax, Rhys, we are clearly under the influence.” He pinched Rhys’s bare arse cheek between his fingers, and Rhys yelped.

Gwen laughed. “And look, it freed my ankle!” She slipped her foot out of its binding. “Help me get out of my jeans, will you, love?”

Rhys nodded, and felt his resistance melting in the presence of her smile, as always. He breathed in deeply, growing harder and harder. Ianto gave him an appreciative look, and tugged at Gwen’s boots as Rhys attacked her jeans. The moment she was freed of her clothes she pinned him in the corner of the backseat and practically impaled herself on his cock. Rhys barely had a moment to feel bad for Ianto, all alone in the other corner when the back seat shifted and fell flat. Gwen fell off him with a curse. “Fuck, what is this?”

“Just giving us a little room to maneuver. Jack designed it.” Ianto slid up close behind her and began to nibble an earlobe as one hand fondled one of her breasts. He had a tube of lube in his other hand.

“Way to be prepared, Ianto mate, but I want to fondle Gwen’s breasts.” Rhys pushed himself out of the corner and over to them. Ianto smirked at him, but dropped his hand from Gwen’s breast and uncapped the tube of lube. Rhys ran his thumbs over Gwen’s nipples and she gasped. He swallowed heavily. He had never seen her so wet and aroused before. He slid into her, eyes widening as he realized that he was not alone inside his wife. Ianto’s fingers were stretching her arsehole, and she moaned, a low keening sound that sent a wave of desire through his own cock. He thrust into her, hard, and she threw her head back against Ianto’s neck. “More. More, Ianto.”

Rhys heart clenched at the tender way Ianto kissed his wife’s neck and shoulder blades, and then he felt the other man’s cock, so close to him and he surprised himself by almost coming right then and there. Gwen shook her head. “No, not yet. Make it last,” she gasped. “I want it to last,” she almost cried.

Rhys’s eyes met Ianto’s over her shoulder and they began to move slowly, so slowly, each movement bringing a whimper or moan from one or all three of them. They were just establishing a rhythm when the door opened and Jack poked his head in, brandishing what looked like wire cutters. His jaw dropped.

“What the hell is going on here?”

“Jack!” Ianto gasped. “Get in here and close the door. The gray box went off.”

Jack stared uncomprehending for a moment, and then barked a laugh. “That’s right. Hold on a sec.”

Rhys had never seen anyone doff their clothes as quickly as Captain Jack Harkness, but five seconds later he was slamming the door behind him and reaching for the discarded tube of lube. Rhys felt a sharp pang of jealousy run through him as he took in Jack’s naked body, all golden and muscular. Gwen was around that all the time, and how many times had they run into alien sex mist? Gwen twisted one of his nipples. “Rhys,” she said, exasperatedly, fondly. “Get on with it, yeah?”

He craned his neck to kiss her. He could feel the moment Jack’s lubed cock breached Ianto’s arsehole, like a bolt of electricity leapt from Ianto’s cock, conducted by Gwen’s body and into him. Fuck.

Ianto was swearing raggedly, and Rhys watched Jack’s hands steady the other man’s bucking hips, Jack’s lips raining soothing kisses across Ianto’s shoulders. Rhys met his eyes over the others’ bodies. Jack thrust into Ianto shallowly, slowly, and grinned lazily at Rhys when Ianto moaned low in his throat. Rhys narrowed his eyes, and took up the same rhythm with Gwen, rubbing his thumbs gently overly her stiff nipples, and felt Ianto answer with quick, short thrusts on the other side of her. Gwen began to pant heavily and her hands reached out to grasp Ianto’s, fingers twining above their heads. Jack tightened his grip on Ianto’s hips and pulled all the way in, chest flush with the other man’s back and Ianto came with a shout. Rhys answered with a deep thrust into Gwen and felt Ianto’s orgasm rip through his wife and send her tumbling over the edge. He followed with one last deep thrust, mouth open wide and head thrown back.

Rhys whited out completely, for what felt like ten minutes, but when he came to, they were all still connected and he grinned rather dopily at Jack. Jack smiled back, latched his teeth onto Ianto’s neck and came with a muffled groan. The SUV was filled with the sound of ragged breathing as everyone caught their breaths. Ianto pulled out of Gwen, gently, and she moaned softly, turned slightly, and kissed him full on the lips. Rhys was sure he heard her murmur, “I love you,” but for once, he did not feel jealous as she turned immediately back into his arms and kissed him soundly. His eyes drooped of their own accord, and the last thing he saw was Jack, rolling Ianto onto his back and kissing his face and neck.

***

They woke up, limbs entangled, the next morning. Rhys sat up abruptly, staring at his wife and her colleagues. “Oh my God, we all had sex last night.”

Jack propped himself up on an elbow and ran a twinkling eye over his naked body. “And we got to remember it! Pretty great, huh?”

Rhys gaped at him, then turned to Ianto. “You – and Gwen!” he spluttered helplessly.

Ianto raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t sell yourself short, Rhys, you were there, too.”

Gwen giggled. “Rhys. Come on. None of us could help it. Smile for me, will you, love?” She smiled at him, a look that had been so rare lately, and he gave in.

“Great!” Jack clapped his hands together. “Now, ten points to whoever gives the best impersonation of Rhys’s O face.”

This is funny, and hot, and delightful! Loved Jack redesigning the back seat (of course he did!), and the whole pileup idea was great. Yay for the little grey box!

Jack had to do *something* on the nights there were no weevils! :D

That's what I'm talking about! (Said in the voice of Adam Savage from Mythbusters.) Ok that's out of my system.

Very hot! And the best thing is that they all remember it.

Poor Torchwood, they deserved a happy memory! :)

Like a delicious team sandwich + Rhys bread. Harrr!

Hot and original... and so nice that they've remembered what happened.

Re: Torchwood, Rhys/Gwen/Ianto/Jack -- SUV Sex Part 3B

blue-fjords.livejournal.com - 2009-05-19 04:08 (UTC) - Expand

Yay! The arc is complete! Hot and awesome, and everyone remembers! Great job!

Re: Torchwood, Rhys/Gwen/Ianto/Jack -- SUV Sex Part 3B

blue-fjords.livejournal.com - 2009-05-19 04:10 (UTC) - Expand

Re: Torchwood, Rhys/Gwen/Ianto/Jack -- SUV Sex Part 3B

amand-r.livejournal.com - 2009-05-19 04:14 (UTC) - Expand

Ahahaha! Oh poor Rhys. :)

Re: Torchwood, Rhys/Gwen/Ianto/Jack -- SUV Sex Part 3B

blue-fjords.livejournal.com - 2009-05-19 04:11 (UTC) - Expand

Ianto’s body was moving towards the Captain even as his brain screamed at him to stop. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t turn away, couldn’t do anything but walk closer and closer to Jack. There was a scant foot between them when he stopped. He didn’t want to be there, breathing in Jack’s scent, seeing the panic in his eyes. But he had no choice.

Nor did Jack; he couldn’t step back or even turn his body. With difficulty he tore his gaze away from Ianto and looked toward the two X!snolenes standing at the door to his office. “Don’t do this.” He glanced at Ianto, then back at the aliens. He started to bargain. “Take me. Do what you want. Just let him go!” The desperation building in Jack’s voice would have been enough to frighten the hell out of Ianto, if he weren’t already utterly terrified.

“We require two,” the X!snolene on the left said in a dull, metallic drone of a voice.

The identical alien on the right blinked, flat grey eyes impassive in a face the colour of old pewter. “Yes. Two must perform the ritual. We require two.” Their voices were alike in every way, lifeless, unyielding. The particle disintegrators they each held were identical, as well. Torchwood had technology that could trump disintegrators, but not in Jack’s office, which was where they were currently trapped.

Jack’s shoulders slumped. He turned to Ianto. “I’m so sorry.”

“For what, Sir?” Ianto leaned forward as Jack took the step toward him.

“I didn’t want it to be…” his words were swallowed by Ianto’s mouth covering his own, tongue pressing smoothly inside. An arm wrapped around his waist, and a hand moved to grip his jaw, holding him still for Ianto’s assault. Ianto’s lips, teeth and tongue felt amazing, soft and hard and sharp and right.

Jack wondered why this was a bad idea, then remembered and managed to wrench himself free for a moment. “I wanted our first time to be slow and easy.” Ianto grabbed at his arse and pulled him forward, crushing their groins together. “And of your own free will,” Jack gasped, and then he gave in, sure hands finding purchase on Ianto’s arse, as well as they mirrored each other, grabbing and rubbing. “I’ll give you retcon.”

“I don’t want it.” One hand was between them, undoing buttons and flies. “I want this.” Jack groaned when Ianto finally freed him, hand working his cock, thumb dragging over the slit, gathering the liquid there. He stood still and felt.

Until Ianto brought that thumb up, glossed Jack’s lips with his own pre-come, and leaned in to lick it hungrily away.

That was what broke Jack, what led him to grab the front of Ianto’s shirt with both hands and pull, scattering buttons everywhere but baring flesh to his eyes and hands. When he brushed his palms over Ianto’s nipples, he heard the gasp. He felt Ianto trembling, knew his knees were weak.

“We need to lie down.” Ianto looked at him, wide-eyed. “Sit down, then. Something.”

“We need to fuck,” Ianto said, and smoothly dropped to his knees and took Jack into his mouth.

Ianto looked up at him, eyes heavy-lidded and blown with arousal, and Jack knew he would come embarrassingly quickly. He lay his hands on Ianto’s face, thumbs tracing the reddened lips stretched around his cock, and started to thrust, trying trying trying not to go too deep, hoping he was succeeding but not really sure.

When he came, Ianto tilted his head back and swallowed, eyes open and locked with his the whole time.

By the time Jack had regained his senses, Ianto was coming, too, hand working furiously, Jack’s softening cock still in his mouth.

The alarm on the Hub door brought them back to their senses.

“They’re gone,” Jack announced breathlessly, looking at the doorway where the aliens had stood minutes – hours? – ago.

Ianto blinked and pulled back, releasing Jack’s cock. “Guess they got what they were here for,” he said and stood up, moving less gracefully than usual. He glanced down at his wet hand. “I’ll just get a towel, sir.” He stepped toward the door and let out a soft omphh noise when he collided with Jack.

“Let me,” Jack said softly, almost whispering. Then he was licking at Ianto’s hand, lapping at the sticky mess, tongue pushing between his fingers, sucking his fingertips. Incredibly, Ianto felt himself hardening again.

Jack felt the twitch against his thigh and grinned. “You said something about needing to fuck?”

The grin faded when Ianto pulled away, heading again towards the door. “I’ll start the paperwork on the X!snolenes,” he mumbled as he tried to hold his ruined shirt together.

“You don’t need to do that tonight,” Jack said gently.

“I’ll just be on my way then.” He turned and walked out the office, once more the stoic, albeit a stoic with a buttonless shirt who had just…god, what had he just done? Ianto was halfway down the steps when Jack called his name; he stopped and turned to face the Captain.

Jack held up a small bottle.

Ianto shook his head once, and Jack slid both hands into his pockets and just stood there, watching.

He turned and started down the steps again, hurrying out the door and away from the Hub. Ianto didn’t want to think about what had just happened, but how could he not? He had known it would happen eventually, but he hadn’t known it would be under alien control.

He did know that he didn’t want to forget a second of it.

But...but...why didn't Ianto stay?? Ianto, you dummy!

Fun! Classic sf amtdi porn, and then it got all Torchwood angsty. Great combo, thanks hon!

Re: TW; Jack/Ianto: Don't Want To Forget, Part 2

dvanulya.livejournal.com - 2009-05-18 13:49 (UTC) - Expand

Ianto blinked and pulled back, releasing Jack’s cock. “Guess they got what they were here for,” he said and stood up, moving less gracefully than usual.

OMG. The aliens are... us! :)

Very sexy... I've never seen an AMTDI first time with Jack and Ianto. The scattered buttons - just one of the many details I liked very much!

Re: TW; Jack/Ianto: Don't Want To Forget, Part 2

dvanulya.livejournal.com - 2009-05-18 13:50 (UTC) - Expand

Hello! I was on my way off the computer, then I see this. Ooh, lovely, very nice and super hot. Oh, Ianto. *sigh* Like the last line.

Re: TW; Jack/Ianto: Don't Want To Forget, Part 2

dvanulya.livejournal.com - 2009-05-18 13:52 (UTC) - Expand

Honest to god, I love Ianto-doesn't-succumb-entirely fics. This is complete awesome, especially when Jack repeatedly attempts to get Ianto back into the mood at the end. Yay!

Re: TW; Jack/Ianto: Don't Want To Forget, Part 2

dvanulya.livejournal.com - 2009-05-18 13:53 (UTC) - Expand

Re: TW; Jack/Ianto: Don't Want To Forget, Part 2

amand-r.livejournal.com - 2009-05-18 19:50 (UTC) - Expand

Oh Ianto why didn't you stay???? *sniff*

Hope I'm not too late, here. First comment porn, first PWP. A touch angsty.

They didn’t trust her, none of them did. It was obvious in the way conversations died as she approached, the way they looked at her, the way they left her here today, alone, while they all went out to do the real work. But that was okay. She’d been inside their heads too recently, seen their thought too clearly. She didn’t trust them, either.

But routine admin and the echo of dripping water wasn’t enough to distract her. She found her mouse cursor hovering over the well-disguised icon without her even realising it, her finger tapping the button just too lightly to trigger temptation. She shouldn’t. It was just torturing herself.

But God, she missed it. Missed her. It had been horrible and confusing and false – and heart-poundingly real and exhilarating and tangible. And in the middle of it, sometimes, even Owen hadn’t mattered.

She clicked.

And there she was, the image a little grainy but the curve of her hip perfect. The cocky strut, emphasised by her boots, the wicked smile, the way her blonde hair cupped her cheek and always made Tosh want to do the same with a hand. Tosh froze the image – there, with Mary’s skirt flared out, halfway through a spin. A terrible moment, right before all the illusions had come crashing down, but the only pictures she had.

It ached. Mary had touched her constantly, teasing touches that left Tosh uncomfortable, unused to such blatant affection. But it had given her skin a craving for it. Furtively, now, not quite admitting to what she was doing, Tosh skimmed a hand over her own breast. She could feel the bump of her nipple under her palm and returned to it with a finger. A light touch, the faint scrape of a fingernail across cotton weave as she teased her nipple through her blouse. Pleasure zinged across her belly and she gasped. She switched hands, her left hand rubbing circles across her skin to free her right hand for the mouse. Back to the beginning of the tape and play – Mary, as always, looked best in motion.

Tosh gave up any pretence as to what she was doing, now. Restless movements rocked her in her seat, almost-but-not-quite friction where she wanted it most, and her hand cupped her breast brazenly and rolled her nipple between thumb and forefinger.

Mary spun, arms out, her whole face brilliantly alight with pleasure and lust. And who cared that it was lust for power, not for Tosh, which made her glow like that? It was closer than Tosh had got from anyone else. Imagination filled in the gaps, provided the sound of Mary’s voice reciting poetry with lush passion. Tosh walked a hand up her thigh, under her skirt.

Sex with Mary had awakened Tosh to the sensuality of a woman’s body, and that new awareness made touching herself a double pleasure now. She trailed fingers down the side of her neck, slipped a finger beneath the satin edge of her knickers. The humid closeness of her vulva seemed obscenely pleasurable. She spread her legs and moaned, shockingly loud in the silence of the Hub. It reminded her where she was – at work, what was she thinking? – and she froze.

But then the whole situation, sitting at her work station with a hand between her thighs, felt delicious, exciting, daring. Something Mary would have talked her into doing. She slid her fingers up inside the slick heat of her body and arched into the touch. A few more strokes, flesh clenching around her fingers and hips jerking into a rhythm that made her chair creak, and she backed off. She circled her clitoris with her middle finger, resisting the urge to rub frantically against it, enjoying the slow build of pressure and urgency. Her left hand rubbed and tugged at her nipples, but her blouse was suddenly just a frustrating obstacle. She fumbled at the buttons until the shirt gaped open to her stomach, then tugged down the cups of her bra until her breasts spilled out over the top, no longer confined. Her breath came in quick, short gasps now, her eyes flickered shut despite her efforts to keep watching the beautiful woman (alien) on the computer screen.

She slid her finger down the moist crevice between her outer and inner labia, then back up the other side. More, God, she wanted more. She wanted it all, right now. Finesse disappeared. The tape had looped, she’d missed the moment Mary had disappeared and that made it easy to pretend that she hadn’t, that she wouldn’t, that it was her hand pumping deep into Tosh’s body, building desperate need into pulses of hot pleasure.

Tosh abandoned her breasts to paw her skirt up, trying not to lose the rhythm of her other hand. She shoved her knickers down until her fingers found damp curls, then delved into them to press against her clitoris, so swollen it verged on painful. She was close, so close to the edge now. She yearned towards it but wanted to hold it off forever, to stay in this place of trembling ecstasy where grief couldn’t touch her.

Almost without her volition, though, her hands fell into a fast-paced tempo. One stroking inside, one rubbing over her clitoris, each movement pushing her closer to orgasm. She caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her neck strained backwards, a keening whine built in the back of her throat. A thousand pictures of Mary flashed behind her squeezed-shut eyelids: blue eyes challenging her through smoky lashes, spine arched in blatant invitation while water ran over breasts, swollen lips parted in a gasp of sudden pleasure, hands running over the curve of a calf as she turned rubbing on lotion into something dirty, a tongue curling around the olive of a martini. Had she really collected that many mental snapshots? It had been such a short period of time to build so many memories.

She arced up against her hands. The damp air blew cool over her exposed breasts. Heat blossomed outward from her abdomen, shaking her. With a rush, white intensity blotted out her thoughts entirely. She gave a hoarse shout and froze, other than the involuntary jerking of her body.

A moment later it was gone. Reaction pinged over her skin, but she was aware now of being twisted into an uncomfortable, undignified knot, her hands shoved awkwardly into her knickers and her breasts flopping ridiculously over the top of her bra. On the screen Mary held a knife to her throat. She straightened her clothes as best she could and shut off the CCTV footage before Jack could send Mary to her death, again. Tears she didn’t remember shedding dried sticky on her cheeks and she raised a hand to wipe them off, grimacing at the strong smell of musk that clung to her fingers.

God, she was a mess. She was going to have to do something with the footage from this afternoon, loop some more innocuous footage over the top of it or something. And she should probably delete the tape she’d saved of the night she’d brought Mary into the Hub. Dwelling on it (on something that had never been what she thought it was, anyway) couldn’t be healthy. She smoothed a wrinkle on her skirt and promised herself again that this was the last time, then got up to fix her makeup.

She yearned towards it but wanted to hold it off forever, to stay in this place of trembling ecstasy where grief couldn’t touch her.

and...

Had she really collected that many mental snapshots? It had been such a short period of time to build so many memories.

This is great - sexy, yet so desperately sad at the same time.

Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I always felt like poor Tosh's grief was always sort of glossed over in the programme. (Especially since I saw "Cyberwoman" and "Greeks Bearing Gifts" within a day or two of each other the first time. All I could think was, "Wow! What, is killing employees' girlfriends some kind of hobby for Jack?")

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