| Date: 18 December 2007
Characters: Jack Harkness, Lane Williams Location: outside, random room Link to IJ: thread #14732 |
 He got the Professor settled in his room, then started pacing slowly through the halls. He was tired, working his way back toward exhausted, but it wasn't because he needed to sleep. It was because he'd been collecting and organizing and explaining for days now. There was enough work there for two of him, and one of them wasn't pulling their weight.
He didn't really mind. He accepted the responsibility for the people that were his, even the ones he didn't remember and hadn't met, and the ones he did know, but didn't know him, and the ones he just plain didn't like much. They were all his, and making sure they knew where they were, how to feed themselves and somewhere to sleep was the least he could do. His nerves were fraying, though, and settling down for the night wasn't an option. He didn't need sleep, anyway. So, he wandered the halls of the hotel, then he wandered the streets of the town. It was quiet, the starlight milky and diffuse, but more than enough to see by, even without the street-lamps. With them the light was eerie and white, and he had no problem at all spotting a figure at the end of the street. "Hey," he called, as he approached. His hands in his pockets, stance and voice casual, but his eyes were locked on the other hand, and he was definitely wired enough to be just a little careful. Even if he hadn't met anyone here who warranted much caution. |
 Lane heard the voice, and saw someone from the corner of his vision. Definitely to late to find a shadow to hide in - he almost laughed at himself for that. And he knew that voice. He'd supposed it would be inevitable not to run into a Jack in this place.
Flipping through a dozen different responses and reactions, he decided on the most direct. Taking a deep breath, he turned toward Jack and swallowed down the rising fear, saying nothing. But even as the man neared, he couldn't get a read on his approach. |
| The turn toward him told him that Lane could hear him. The lack of verbal response didn't scare him, but it did make him damn sure to be that little bit extra cautious. His steps stayed measured and even, his hands stayed in his pockets, and his eyes stayed on Lane. "You're out late," he said, again, when he was just out of touching distance. |
| Lane allowed a quick smirk, his head tilting a bit. "So are you." |
| He conceded the point with a faint shrug and fast smile. "I don't sleep a lot. What's your excuse?" |
| "I try not to sleep. Doesn't always work." Nope, still nothing. His options for getting out of this were dwindling, and the last thing he wanted was finding out what Jack could have under the coat or in his pockets. "Trying to find the man behind the curtain." He thought about closing the distance, see if Jack backed off, but held his ground. Something in the back of his mind was screaming at him to do something and he ignored it. It was probably the same something that had gotten a bit too close to Brant, and he wasn't going to think about that right now. |
| His eyes stayed on Lane, level and unflinching. His stance, like his gaze, was very steady. He was just watching, waiting and weighing. "The man behind the curtain," he echoed. There was a question there, but it was in the lift of his eyebrow, not the one in his voice. |
| Pushing everything down beneath a cold hard surface somewhere deep, he breathed out the last of his fear and drew himself forward without taking a step. At least the hint of defense and intent was there. "Whatever's behind this place. Don't you find it a bit odd?" |
| He kept watching Lane. He saw the tension and pull forward, the hint of defensiveness. "I find it odd. Right now I'm finding your reaction to me odder. What's going on?" |
| "Everyone here has fallen through from other times, other worlds, other dimensions. You seem to be a common thread through almost every one." He matched Jack's direct gaze and eased his shoulders a bit while giving none of his defense up. No guarantees on anyone coming out of this without their memory of this place, so he might as well be ready for a fight if there was one to be had. And he wasn't going to just out and tell Jack he might possibly be harboring a slight obsession. |
| He had a couple of ideas about what was up with Lane, but they of the afraid of him and wanted to see him dead variety. Obsession hadn't even occurred to him. "If I'm the common thread, how about you tell me how you're connected to me?" |
| "I said almost-it's a working theory. But without knowing which dimension or time you're from..." he shook his head. "Like I said, I'm working on it. Or there's someone else here who is the common thread. Unless it's because sometimes the universe is just a bitch and she was in a bad mood." |
| "Do I look stupid to you?" he asked, his voice low, soft, and almost melodic. "Is it the coat? Because I could swear you're trying to get out of answering how you know me, while telling me about this theory of yours that it's all about me. Now, maybe I'm just more tired than I think, but if you have no connection to me, how would you know that other people here do?" |
| "Oh no, it's not the coat," Lane said quietly. "The coat's spectacular. See, in my timeline, I was nosing around Cardiff to see what the rift was all about. For a secret organization, Torchwood isn't very low-profile. And I've had my ears open while I've been here-you do get around, Jack." |
| That was better. Lane's tone sounded more dangerous to Jack, but Lane was talking and things were making sense - more sense. "I'm glad you like it. I'm pretty fond of it myself. What was going on with the rift while you were there?" |
| "Nothing that I could tell, but I don't have all your toys to play with. I was just taking a look-see. And I doubt the rift has the monopoly on messing with time and space." Now that he was edging closer to the truth, it was easier. The defenses he's learned to live with in the last year were slowly easing. If they were going to get out of here, secrets weren't going to help. |
| "The Rift isn't the only thing that can mess with time and space, but it's still the most likely option. What year were you there?" Jack prompted, and came close to demanding without actually crossing that line. He was thinking back, and shook his head. |
| ". What other options are there? I've heard others talk about time in the subjective, but I thought it was just in relation to dimension." He was relaxing a bit more, but still keeping his edge. This was still Jack. |
| "Anomalies happen. The rift in Cardiff isn't even necessarily the only one in existence in all of space and time. That there are alternate universes represented and affected confuses me much more than multiple points along the same or diverging timelines."
He was still looking at Lane, but his tone was almost absent. He was thinking about twothousandseven. "Why were you watching Torchwood? You don't strike me as much of a fanboy." He was thinking about the kid with the eye and a crush on Gwen. The one that got run over. |
| "I was trying to see what you knew about dimensional shift." He looked away and took in a deep draw of the cool night air. "I fell through a while back. I was trying to see if there was a why. Or a how. Something." He shrugged. "But I didn't want to get too close. I know what you do to things that fall through. Or that you'd not believe me, and I still wouldn't get answers." |
| "Things that fall through," he said, his voice precise and tone just a bit harder. "Not people. " Not that he was going to claim Torchwood was a humanitarian organization, because they weren't. "Why would I think you're lying?" |
| "I didn't know if people could come through-as so far as I could tell, only things. I wanted to make sure it wasn't going to keep happening to me. And what proof did I have? Someone shows up one day wanting to know about things that are only theoretical to everyone else." He wasn't going to mention the holes in what timeline he could find on Jack. For the same reason he kept his own history to himself. Some things were hard to explain without taking logic into account. He met Jack's eyes and offered a slight smile. "Plus I'm not fond of being Retconned." |
| "People come through. We don't usually lock them up downstairs," he said, simply. He paused for a moment while he worked on the rest. "I suspect you're carrying more proof in your head than you know, but that's not something that matters here and now. In fact, I doubt very much any of it does." He widened his eyes, expression very slightly playful. "And I don't think I'm going to have to retcon you." |
| "Well that's a relief," Lane chuckled. "On both. I don't want to go back to where I came from, but I don't want to stay here either - not that the company isn't great, of course." His eyebrows lifted and he grinned. "The whole being sucked into whatever this is though, it isn't really my idea of a fun. Every time I slip somewhere else, the learning curve gets bigger and bigger." |
| "I don't think staying here indefinitely is possible, and it's certainly not probable. Unfortunately, that means you're going to fall through again. With luck you'll land back in the last place you were, and I have no idea why you're skip-" He cut himself off cold with a mental curse. "Let me see your arms," he said, voice harder than it had been, by far. |
| Lane froze, expression going blank. "Why," he growled. |
| "Because I'm looking for something. Humor me." No growling, no snarling, just flat. |
| Lane stared at him for a moment before aborting a move to do just that. "I-" he began before clamping his mouth shut in a firm line and offered Jack his arms, palms up. |
| "Thanks," he said with a quick grin that didn't make it to his eyes. He curled his fingers of both hands around Lane's arms, right below the elbow, in a firm (and warm) grip, and pulled his hands down all the way to his wrists, where he let go, and visibly relaxed. "See? Didn't even hurt." |
| Lane flinched at first, his eyebrows knitting. "If I start quacking like a duck, I'm hitting you. Did you just put the whammy on me?" |
| "Did I just what?" He asked Lane, tone incredulous, eyebrows drawn together. He might've been living in the 21st century since it was the 19th, but there were things he still didn't get, and that was one of them. |
| "Oh don't look at me like I'm the strange one. You just... felt me up. Or my arms, at least. Unless I'm supposed to know what it was?" He quirked an eyebrow. |
| "That was me looking for something you don't have, and that you don't know what it was means either you're a better actor than you seem to be, or you're not what I'm worried about you being."
He knew that was complicated, circular, and sounded like nonsense, even if he knew what he was looking for. So, he changed the subject. "If I felt you up, you wouldn't be confused about it." |
| Lane's expression blanked, the smile fading away into nothing. "And if you had found what you were looking for? Would be only one of the tricks up my sleeve. How do you know I'm not otherwise armed, Jack? And what the fuck does it matter here?" He took a step forward, trying to get a grip on his anger. "Why the worry? Want to pat the rest of me down, too?" He knew the grin on his face was feral, and he didn't care. "Go ahead, Jack." |
| He didn't step back. "If I had found what I was looking for, I would have taken it away, and asked you a lot of really complicated questions about time manipulation," he said, his voice and gaze both rock solid. "I wasn't looking for a weapon." |
| Lane crossed his arms. "Time manipulation? Please. Not in the curriculum. And what makes you think I'd just hand something over? I came through unarmed. Both times. That was a long time ago and far away. What do you know about it, anyway? We weren't particularly kind to strangers." |
| "I have no idea who the 'we' you're talking about is, much less any curriculum. In fact, I have no idea what you're talking about at all." Because there was so much there he didn't understand. Like, oh, all of it. |
| He took a deep breath and sighed, looking up at the dark sky. "Then what were you looking for?" Lane rubbed at his face. "Never mind. Lets just chalk this up to miscommunication. Hi, my name's Lane and I'm an over reacting jackass. Pick it up again where you tried to deflect with innuendo..." he smiled weakly. |
| He hiked his coat-sleeve up and pivoted his arm around toward Lane, wrist-comp facing him. "Hi, Lane. I'm Jack, and this is what I was looking for. I'm a big fan of innuendo, and deflection. Unfortunately, I'm also basically lazy. You pick it up." |
| "Hi Jack. Niceta meetcha. Nice coat. Killer... bondage watch? Do you get cable on that thing too? Or are you just compensating? If you are, it's ok. Size doesn't matter. Much. What does it matter if I have my own big ass watch? 'Cause believe me, I don't have to compensate. At. all." |
| After all that, Jack had to laugh.
"I wear my watch on the other wrist, but between the two, my belt and braces, I could probably manage a decent set of bondage gear. I don't get cable, but I can track the odd satellite, which is near enough to the same thing. I'm definitely not compensating, and prove it." For just that second he was light and almost playful, and for just that second there was definitely something younger and more innocent being reflected in the banter. What was left of it, anyway. |
| "Satellite? Really?" Lane leaned closer, grinning. "Is this really the place to be... proving myself? It's deserted enough street, but I'm not that kind of boy. I like to take my time." |
| "I'd offer a demonstration, but the reception's shit here." He was talking about the comp. He shook his head and laughed at Lane again. Not brightly, but low and soft and warm. "Are you telling me you're slow?" |
| "Raincheck then. On the reception. And I'm not slow! I can go slow, fast, hard, deep, whatever." He eyebrow twitched. "Somewhere I think I went from innuendo straight to overt. But if you keep using that voice I'll be into obvious before you know it." |
| "You did," Jack said, voice still low and soft but getting just a bit deeper as he spoke. "I'm not complaining. I have it on good authority I'm bad at subtle, and obvious is always more interesting." |
| "I agree. Cuts down on the miscommunication, and much more interesting." Lane swore to himself he wasn't going to blush. But much more of that tone from Jack, and he couldn't depend on it. |
| "Good. I'm glad we're on the same page." Then he grinned, slowly. "So, be obvious. Tell me what you want." |
| "Well.." Lane began, tilting his head and staring at what of Jack's throat he could see. Easier to launch into the details without looking him in the eye. For now. "I'd really like to go for your throat. With my mouth, some teeth-but I know that's a trust issue. Probably smart not to let someone you don't know around your jugular. I could do the obvious and go straight for your cock, but that leaves out so many other opportunities." His mouth was getting dry and his voice trailed off as he stared at Jack's mouth next, swallowing hard. "So maybe I'll just go with D: all of the above. In any combination." His gaze met Jack's, finally. "Your turn." |
| He'd kept his eyes on Lane, so when he was finished talking and looked back, Jack eyes were there and steady. "First of all, anyone killing me with their teeth is probably determined enough to almost deserve the payoff." He flashed a grin at that, fast and a little... less than warm, honestly, but it wasn't a menacing expression, either. Second: We're still on the street, and that bothered you about five minutes go. Finally," he tugged his hand out of his pocket, curled his fingers around Lane's cheek and tugged lightly on his chin with his thumb. "You're really hot. Make up your mind, make a plan, and then put it in action. "
He was pushing, yes, but he was doing it deliberately. That was what he wanted and he knew Lane was defensive and frankly young. He'd stop eventually, but for the moment. Push. |
| The hand on his cheek was warm and Lane's eyes closed for a moment, savoring it. "I've definitely made up my mind," he said finally. His own hand came up to hold Jack's hand against his cheek as he turned into it and gave a wet open-mouthed kiss against the palm, eyes dark. "My plan is to get us somewhere more private, first. As for the action-" he let go of Jack's hand and stalked over to the nearby building, glancing in a window before considering a door. He tried the knob and it swung open to reveal an empty, dark lounge. One of his hands shot out and grabbed the lapel of Jack's coat, tugging him toward the open door. |
| Jack's hand came up and curled around Lane's wrist when Lane grabbed his coat, but he stepped and walked into the lounge with him. "Nice," he agreed, looking around. He kept Lane's hand for the moment, thumb sweeping back and forth over the inside of his wrist. |
| Lane grinned. "Thanks, I work out." Still smirking at his own joke, he couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through him as Jack's thumb did a number on his wrist. "Something tells me this place will provide whatever it is we need." |
| "What it can't provide, my pockets can." He was still sounding quietly amused. He pulled the door shut behind him and let Lane go to find a lamp to turn on. |
| "I don't know whether to be aroused or afraid of that," Lane said and flicked on a lamp near a wide couch. "Maybe both."
He mused and moved to pull the blinds shut on the window. "Phase one of my plan is complete - shall we move on to phase two?" |
| "By all means. I can't wait to see what you've got in mind." Okay, so he really was challenging a little. Also, frankly, it saved him tripping or triggering Lane into terror, and he *really* wanted to know what Lane had in mind. |
| "Well, first... as much as I adore the greatcoat, I'm afraid it's just in the way," he said, moving closer and snaking a hand between the coat and Jack's chest. Lane's fingers played with a brace strap, one eyebrow lifting as he watched Jack for a reaction. No mistaking his intentions now. |
| Jack shrugged out of the coat, and draped it over the nearest chair, muscles shifting and moving and yeah, there was still some question. Not that there was going to be sex, but what sort - besides good - it was going to be. "What next?" Okay, he was just teasing, now. |
| "Braces," Lane said, reaching to touch the material of Jack's shirt before he flicked a button open at the top of it. "Shirts..." he was distracted by the warmth he could feel now and fingered the buckle of Jack's belt. "Pants," he continued, pulling on the leather. |
| Jack helped Lane, shrugging the braces down, and had to laugh. "Careful," he warned. "Don't forget holster, and please tell me we're going to get to boots, or I'm going to look really silly. I hate looking silly." He trailed one finger along the line of Lane's jaw and down his throat. |
| Lane moved into the trailing finger for a moment, enjoying it. "I'm just delegating," he said before dropping to his knees and looking up at Jack. After meeting his eyes for a long moment, he ran his hands up the back of Jack's thighs, hands sliding over his trousers. With a smirk, he unsnapped the holster from his belt and tossed it over with the coat on the chair. Moving on to Jack's boots, he pulled on the laces and loosened them. "Can't have you looking silly," he grinned, hands moving back to Jack's legs. Lane leaned forward and nuzzled the material at Jack's crotch as his hands worked to undo his belt and pull it free. |
| "You know, I should object to you handling my gun." He stepped out of the boots, carefully. The warmth of Lane's breath seeping through the wool of his pants, to his cock, made him flush, and harden. His voice stayed steady though, and he worked on getting his shirt unbuttoned and off. "You do that well by the way - delegating, I mean." |
| "Don't worry, I have lots of experience handling guns." Lane leaned back and pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side. His hands were working on Jack's trouser buttons, fingers brushing the hardness beneath. "And I'm a good... delegator." One the trousers were open he nuzzled the warm in the creases of his thighs, hands helping Jack out of the pooled trousers and boots. |
| "Yes, I'm starting to get that," he sad, stepping and moving willingly. He put his hand in Lane's hair then, fingers sliding through to the back of his neck and then gripping lightly, so he could bend down and kiss him, sudden and deep and hard, all the aggressiveness he hadn't been using -or at least showing - before, and urging Lane up to stand. |
| Lane whined his frustration into the kiss, finally giving up being on his knees and stood, gripping Jack's shoulders and returning the aggression. He pressed against Jack's solid form and tried to keep his head under the assault. It was a battle, especially with the things Jack was doing with his tongue. Running his hands down Jack's sides, he felt his way down to the waistband of his underwear and slipped just the tips underneath, nails scraping lightly at skin. |
| Jack continued the kiss, teeth and tongue and slick glide and thrust and fucking into Lane's mouth with a lot of heat and a whole lot of agility and experience. His hands, meanwhile, were busy stripping Lane out of his pants. He'd fall back again, quite shortly, but not until they were on even ground and even didn't involve him being the only one naked. ...He had issues. |
| Lane's hands left Jack long enough to help him shuck his own pants and toe out of his shoes, underwear being tossed with the rest of it to the side. "Phase two complete," Lane breathed, diving back in for another kiss. It was his turn to devour Jack's mouth, sliding the tips of his fingers down Jack's chest and detouring by the nipples before continuing on to brush against the hard cock below. Just enough of a touch to tease, Lane's hips shoving his own cock against Jack's in a long, slow writhe. |
| He groaned into the kiss - bit into it- hand back in Lane's hair, gripping hard, pushing into the light touch and then relaxing again, almost wincing at the aggressive. "Good. Now what's stage three?" His voice was a full half-octave lower than it had been, edges rough and raw, cock hard against Lane's, holding him there, all heat and strength. While he spoke, though, his hand in Lane's hair relaxed and just combed through. |
| Lane shivered at the combination of Jack's low voice, the hard cock against his own, and Jack's hand in his hair. "That involves the couch behind you," he growled, pushing at Jack. "And your cock down my throat." |
| He put his hand on the back of Lane's neck. "I don't know how the couch is relevant in this scenario, but I know my cock and your throat are going to get along just fine." He kept his grip on Lane while he pivoted, turned, and headed for that couch. |
| "Can't get between your legs properly without the couch," Lane said and gestured at the couch's length. "Phase three involves a keen eye on logistics." He pushed at Jack to get him to sit. |
| Jack fell onto the couch, sprawled and apparently careless, though there was control in catching the surface with his arms and thighs rather than his ass. Arms along the back, legs spread out. "Is there a phase four?" He asked, because he was just plain enjoying this crazy conversation. More than he'd enjoyed anything in quite a while, actually. |
| "Oh, yeah," Lane nodded, eyes growing mockingly wide as he dropped to his knees between Jack's sprawled legs. His hands slid up Jack's thighs until one went to Jack's cock, Lane's thumb rubbing at the head. The other shoved under Jack's ass until he had a handful of firm muscle. He licked his lips, watching his thumb rub at the head of Jack's cock. "But we're not through with phase three yet." |
| He dropped his head back against the couch, throat bared and completely unconcerened about it. His hips lifted a little, eyes closing and breath catching. Just like that, open and relaxed and feeling. "I'm not in a rush."
Yet, anyway. |
| Lane smiled before he leaned forward to tongue Jack's balls, first one, then the other. He sneaked a glance up at Jack's face, nearly out of sight as his head leaned against the back of the couch. "Noted," he said and kissed the head of his cock, lips wet against the soft skin there. He took a breath before guiding it into his mouth with his fist at the base, tongue flat and hard against the underside as he moved slow with just a bit of suction. He savored the taste before it faded into nothing, loving the feel of it filling his mouth and moaning around the length as he felt the head push against the back of his throat. This was what he needed, how much he hadn't known until just now. A hard cock pushing at his throat, the floor hard under his knees. Keeping the suction, he slid his mouth up and licked at the head and took another deep breath before descending again, fist corkscrewing around the base in a counter motion. |
| He combed the fingers of one hand back into Lane's hair, fisting strong and solid, just enough of a grip to sting without really restricting Lane's movements. He didn't push or pull, but once he found Lane's rhythm, the amount of force he was using, he gave up any restraint, let himself feel it, and just. Well fell into the grip and heat and overwhelming sensation, pulse and breathing fast, achingly hard, teeth clenched and just plain enjoying it. |
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