Torchwood Filth. Again.
Jan. 17th, 2007 10:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fangrrl_squeesY'know what's really sad? I still don't have HALF the plotbunnies sketched out, so I'm still being driven to distraction. As fast as I can write 'em down, the crew comes up with more.
Title: No-one Reads Memos
Pairing: Jack/Owen
Rating: Hrm. R, I guess.
Summary: Jack has some interesting ideas about personnel managment.
Length: I have no idea. Short.
***
There was no getting around it. Jack was much stronger than he looked, and he wasn't about to let Owen go. Conceding defeat, Owen stopped struggling and awaited further developments.
Jack's growled Owen's ear. "As this seems to be the only way to get you to hold still and shut up for one goddamn second, I'm not going to apologize." He did, however, pull his hand away from Owen's mouth, thus heading off his incipient worries about suffocation.
Owen assessed the situation. He wasn't dressed for being slammed against walls, especially the rather dank walls of one of the Hub's many supply rooms. Jack, however, seemed determined to make him one with the concrete, which might not be so bad if the boss wasn't standing behind Owen and keeping him in place with a rather painful armlock.
"I've put up with a lot of shit from you, over time" Jack said in the very-level tone of the deeply pissed-off, "but you've been an even bigger asshole of late, and you're dragging the team down with you. That. Is not. Acceptable." Jack punctuated his words with a further twist on Owen's arm.
"And this is your idea of employee counseling is it?" Owen said through gritted teeth, even as he realized that this might not be the most opportune time for attitude.
"I'm just getting your attention."
Owen laughed, a dry, sarcastic sound. "Oh yeah. 'Cos a memo just wouldn't do."
"You know," Jack said conversationally, ratcheting the pressure up on Owen's arm a tad. "Ianto has a theory about you. Do you want to hear it?"
"Not particularly." Owen's replied through clenched teeth.
"Too bad. Ianto thinks that you're pissed because I'm practically the only person here who hasn't taken a ride on the office bike."
"What? I'm... jilted? That's rich."
Jack slammed Owen against the wall, just hard enough to prove that he could. "Pretty much. I think he's got a point,"
"That would explain your hard-on in my back." Owen responded. If Jack wanted to be blatant...
"And why you're shoving your ass into it." Jack replied, just as quickly.
It all became a bit of a blur after that. Owen vaguely remembered almost losing an eye to a stray shirt button, and feeling strangely unsurprised to learn that Jack eschewed underwear. And yet, for all the wrestling, groping and incidental biting, Jack still had the upper hand - literally.
In Owen's opinion, the rolled steel of the waist-high filing cabinet didn't feel much better than the wall, even with the dubious comfort of a pile of discarded clothing underneath. Could be worse, I suppose, he thought, as he resigned himself to being pinned down. I could be worrying about paper cuts...
"Best cure for jealousy that I know of," Jack announced, breathing hard. "Is to give 'em what they want."
***
Y'know, I could try writing some madly filthy bit of pron to complete this, but it's late, I'm tired, and I'm a wank and a blow job behind on Exposure. I definitely need a pervy co-author for that one, I think. Anyone fancy helping me handle toppy!Ianto. Wait, let me rephrase that...
And, aside from work on the aforementioned Exposure, I'm hereby calling a moratorium on the slashfic for, oh, at least 48 hours. Preferably longer. It's getting a bit monotonous, imho - but most obessions are...
Title: No-one Reads Memos
Pairing: Jack/Owen
Rating: Hrm. R, I guess.
Summary: Jack has some interesting ideas about personnel managment.
Length: I have no idea. Short.
***
There was no getting around it. Jack was much stronger than he looked, and he wasn't about to let Owen go. Conceding defeat, Owen stopped struggling and awaited further developments.
Jack's growled Owen's ear. "As this seems to be the only way to get you to hold still and shut up for one goddamn second, I'm not going to apologize." He did, however, pull his hand away from Owen's mouth, thus heading off his incipient worries about suffocation.
Owen assessed the situation. He wasn't dressed for being slammed against walls, especially the rather dank walls of one of the Hub's many supply rooms. Jack, however, seemed determined to make him one with the concrete, which might not be so bad if the boss wasn't standing behind Owen and keeping him in place with a rather painful armlock.
"I've put up with a lot of shit from you, over time" Jack said in the very-level tone of the deeply pissed-off, "but you've been an even bigger asshole of late, and you're dragging the team down with you. That. Is not. Acceptable." Jack punctuated his words with a further twist on Owen's arm.
"And this is your idea of employee counseling is it?" Owen said through gritted teeth, even as he realized that this might not be the most opportune time for attitude.
"I'm just getting your attention."
Owen laughed, a dry, sarcastic sound. "Oh yeah. 'Cos a memo just wouldn't do."
"You know," Jack said conversationally, ratcheting the pressure up on Owen's arm a tad. "Ianto has a theory about you. Do you want to hear it?"
"Not particularly." Owen's replied through clenched teeth.
"Too bad. Ianto thinks that you're pissed because I'm practically the only person here who hasn't taken a ride on the office bike."
"What? I'm... jilted? That's rich."
Jack slammed Owen against the wall, just hard enough to prove that he could. "Pretty much. I think he's got a point,"
"That would explain your hard-on in my back." Owen responded. If Jack wanted to be blatant...
"And why you're shoving your ass into it." Jack replied, just as quickly.
It all became a bit of a blur after that. Owen vaguely remembered almost losing an eye to a stray shirt button, and feeling strangely unsurprised to learn that Jack eschewed underwear. And yet, for all the wrestling, groping and incidental biting, Jack still had the upper hand - literally.
In Owen's opinion, the rolled steel of the waist-high filing cabinet didn't feel much better than the wall, even with the dubious comfort of a pile of discarded clothing underneath. Could be worse, I suppose, he thought, as he resigned himself to being pinned down. I could be worrying about paper cuts...
"Best cure for jealousy that I know of," Jack announced, breathing hard. "Is to give 'em what they want."
***
Y'know, I could try writing some madly filthy bit of pron to complete this, but it's late, I'm tired, and I'm a wank and a blow job behind on Exposure. I definitely need a pervy co-author for that one, I think. Anyone fancy helping me handle toppy!Ianto. Wait, let me rephrase that...
And, aside from work on the aforementioned Exposure, I'm hereby calling a moratorium on the slashfic for, oh, at least 48 hours. Preferably longer. It's getting a bit monotonous, imho - but most obessions are...
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2007-01-18 06:46 am (UTC)Also.. "I'm a wank and a blow job behind on Exposure" may in fact be one of my favorite sentences ever.
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Date: 2007-01-18 02:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-01-18 06:59 am (UTC)Did you get my e-mail? If not, just send things to hegemony (at) Livejournal (dot) com. While my hands are way too tied to co-write anything with anybody, if you need someone to work things out with and someone to hold your hand through rougher spots, by all means.
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