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wintercompanion2011-03-09 02:10 pm
dontgiveahoot.livejournal.com) wrote in wintercompanion2011-03-09 02:10 pm
dontgiveahoot: "Angel In The Marble" Jack/Ten or Jack/Eleven
Title: Angel In The Marble
Author: dontgiveahoot
Challenge: 2011 Doctor/Jack Bingo Fest (my bingo card is HERE )
Prompt(s) used: From my table - “brainwashing”; “pain changes people”; “you can never lose me that way”. Full list of prompts used at end of story.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack/Ten (or Jack/Eleven, whichever the reader prefers to imagine).
Spoilers/warnings: Sexual situations, eroticisation of mind control, dubcon (dubious consent), implied non-con.
Summary: I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free. ~ Michelangelo Buonarroti. But Jack’s angel is as old and broken as Jack is.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“This way, you never have to lose me, you see? It was all for your own good,” Jack whispers to him as he lowers the Time Lord’s hips down onto his hardness. “And this way, I don’t have to lose you either, not a single second before I have to at least, nothing wrong with that, right?” He can never resist staring into those pretty eyes as he pushes deep within that cool, slender body. Cradling his face in his hands, from behind with a mirror to reflect all that pleasure (that’s a new favourite), but it’s just too lovely a sight to miss completely. Even lovelier now, all glazed over with desire. Sometimes he feels a little bit bad about that, about those dazed eyes that he’s sure used to be sharp and clear. He wonders if the continual stubborn flutter of Doctor-ish tendencies and habits still emerging every now and then from his Time Lord’s mind is telling him that he’s wrong (wrong again, always wrong, what’s so fucking right about staying dead anyway?) But then that sweet begging starts and he remembers it’s worth feeling a bit bad for them both to feel so good.
He was here for the Time Lord’s own good. Everything was about that, always had been. Two thousand years ago, he’d even left the Time Lord for his own good. That part of his timeline was getting a bit fuzzy as it faded further into the past, but he remembered that much. That had been a pretty bad year. Another Time Lord, even prouder and crueller than the Doctor. Proud enough to call himself a master. So very proud of being a Time Lord. So much boasting.
So much information.
The Doctor had tried to be kind, to let him think the fault lay with him, his thoughtless prejudice. The Master had told him proudly how good he felt to a Time Lord’s senses. How rich and sweet and intoxicating, the entire Time Vortex concentrated into one little underevolved ape. One little underevolved ape who would have paid to give the Doctor pleasure like that, wouldn’t you have, Captain? Somehow the Doctor, who could never resist temptation, had managed to avoid addicting himself.
The Master had had no plans of avoiding such a source of pure ecstasy. And his drugged state had let the Doctor answer everyone’s prayers. Jack remembers that too – the Doctor, glowing and hovering and omnipotent, and rewards his Time Lord for the erotic memory by opening his mind up to the Vortex just a little more.
There’s never been a sound as sweet as that heady moan, never a sight as lovely as that face relaxed and mindless and lost in pleasure, soft dark strands of hair sweeping his forehead.
Time Lords, he’d also discovered courtesy of the Master, had always had amazing control over their bodies. They were evolved for it, bred for it, drilled from infancy on how to subjugate the needs of the body to the demands of the mind.
Jack had once disapproved of this sort of deliberate breeding, but he certainly approved now, since it meant that all he had to do was order his Time Lord not to come, and he could remain beautifully hard and needy for as long as Jack wanted, erection dark and bobbing and glistening.
The Doctor had done so many stupid things, had spent centuries denying himself, had lost people and endangered himself and had refused what was best for him. Had driven himself straight into a mental collapse.
Jack had found him, picked up the pieces, cared for him. Had freely given him all the support and comfort that a Gallifreyan mind could gain from him.
His Time Lord was now happy and content and thoroughly fucked and wasn’t going to die alone rescuing some unimportant waste of space.
So he’s not done anything wrong, right? If his Time Lord likes not being allowed to come unless Jack says so, likes being kept aroused and helpless, (likes having Jack pull out and come in his face and push him in front of the mirror, likes seeing himself like that, likes watching as he comes all over himself without a single touch but Jack’s mental command,) then Jack is doing the right thing right this moment, and it doesn’t matter why he likes it, only that he does.
Doesn’t it?
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Full prompt list: “brainwashing”; “mind control”; “it's worth his occasional self-disgust”; “Jack's timelessness is like a drug to Time Lords”; “meeting after 2000 years”; “pain changes people”; “the ravages of time”; “you can never lose me that way”.
...I go hide in shame now.
Author: dontgiveahoot
Challenge: 2011 Doctor/Jack Bingo Fest (my bingo card is HERE )
Prompt(s) used: From my table - “brainwashing”; “pain changes people”; “you can never lose me that way”. Full list of prompts used at end of story.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack/Ten (or Jack/Eleven, whichever the reader prefers to imagine).
Spoilers/warnings: Sexual situations, eroticisation of mind control, dubcon (dubious consent), implied non-con.
Summary: I saw the angel in the marble and carved until I set him free. ~ Michelangelo Buonarroti. But Jack’s angel is as old and broken as Jack is.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
“This way, you never have to lose me, you see? It was all for your own good,” Jack whispers to him as he lowers the Time Lord’s hips down onto his hardness. “And this way, I don’t have to lose you either, not a single second before I have to at least, nothing wrong with that, right?” He can never resist staring into those pretty eyes as he pushes deep within that cool, slender body. Cradling his face in his hands, from behind with a mirror to reflect all that pleasure (that’s a new favourite), but it’s just too lovely a sight to miss completely. Even lovelier now, all glazed over with desire. Sometimes he feels a little bit bad about that, about those dazed eyes that he’s sure used to be sharp and clear. He wonders if the continual stubborn flutter of Doctor-ish tendencies and habits still emerging every now and then from his Time Lord’s mind is telling him that he’s wrong (wrong again, always wrong, what’s so fucking right about staying dead anyway?) But then that sweet begging starts and he remembers it’s worth feeling a bit bad for them both to feel so good.
He was here for the Time Lord’s own good. Everything was about that, always had been. Two thousand years ago, he’d even left the Time Lord for his own good. That part of his timeline was getting a bit fuzzy as it faded further into the past, but he remembered that much. That had been a pretty bad year. Another Time Lord, even prouder and crueller than the Doctor. Proud enough to call himself a master. So very proud of being a Time Lord. So much boasting.
So much information.
The Doctor had tried to be kind, to let him think the fault lay with him, his thoughtless prejudice. The Master had told him proudly how good he felt to a Time Lord’s senses. How rich and sweet and intoxicating, the entire Time Vortex concentrated into one little underevolved ape. One little underevolved ape who would have paid to give the Doctor pleasure like that, wouldn’t you have, Captain? Somehow the Doctor, who could never resist temptation, had managed to avoid addicting himself.
The Master had had no plans of avoiding such a source of pure ecstasy. And his drugged state had let the Doctor answer everyone’s prayers. Jack remembers that too – the Doctor, glowing and hovering and omnipotent, and rewards his Time Lord for the erotic memory by opening his mind up to the Vortex just a little more.
There’s never been a sound as sweet as that heady moan, never a sight as lovely as that face relaxed and mindless and lost in pleasure, soft dark strands of hair sweeping his forehead.
Time Lords, he’d also discovered courtesy of the Master, had always had amazing control over their bodies. They were evolved for it, bred for it, drilled from infancy on how to subjugate the needs of the body to the demands of the mind.
Jack had once disapproved of this sort of deliberate breeding, but he certainly approved now, since it meant that all he had to do was order his Time Lord not to come, and he could remain beautifully hard and needy for as long as Jack wanted, erection dark and bobbing and glistening.
The Doctor had done so many stupid things, had spent centuries denying himself, had lost people and endangered himself and had refused what was best for him. Had driven himself straight into a mental collapse.
Jack had found him, picked up the pieces, cared for him. Had freely given him all the support and comfort that a Gallifreyan mind could gain from him.
His Time Lord was now happy and content and thoroughly fucked and wasn’t going to die alone rescuing some unimportant waste of space.
So he’s not done anything wrong, right? If his Time Lord likes not being allowed to come unless Jack says so, likes being kept aroused and helpless, (likes having Jack pull out and come in his face and push him in front of the mirror, likes seeing himself like that, likes watching as he comes all over himself without a single touch but Jack’s mental command,) then Jack is doing the right thing right this moment, and it doesn’t matter why he likes it, only that he does.
Doesn’t it?
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Full prompt list: “brainwashing”; “mind control”; “it's worth his occasional self-disgust”; “Jack's timelessness is like a drug to Time Lords”; “meeting after 2000 years”; “pain changes people”; “the ravages of time”; “you can never lose me that way”.
...I go hide in shame now.
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