Musings

Cool pic becomes poetry, of course.

Thu, 17 Jul 2008 06:07:47 GMT

Visions Like Snowflakes

Thu, 26 Jun 2008 14:28:02 GMT

Title: Visions Like Snowflakes
Author: dwolf34
Rating: PG at this point - later to become R for graphic m/m sex
Genre: Paranormal Romance, heavy on plot
Summary: A meeting that's the start of an obsession.
Notes: This is original fiction, the first part of something that will be much longer - novel or at least novella. I'd love to get a little feedback, please. It's not very long, and I'll warn you that it sort of leaves you hanging. Thanks for your consideration!

*****

The first time I saw him, it was like a vision. I was walking home from the bus stop, home from my go nowhere quiet little camoflage job. He was standing in the park, dressed in faded denim jeans and jacket. His arms were flung wide above his tossed back head. His long, perfectly white hair swirled around him, dancing with the snowflakes that had just started to fall - the first snow of the year. His smile was brilliant, even with his eyes closed. When they opened, even as they fastened on me, I fell into that warm honey colored gaze.

I've probably been lost ever since.

No, I didn't take him home with me. I didn't even talk to him then - just hurried on, looking away, not wanting to get involved. Just like everyone else in the city. But his eyes, that stare, haunted me for days. I saw them in my sleep, glimpsed them in crowds, doodled them onto the margins of forms at work. I was obsessed, and a couple of the girls at work teased me about it. I didn't tell them the eyes were those of an enigmatic man I hadn't even seen since. Maybe I should have. Maybe they'd have understood.

I didn't see him again for weeks, and he stayed on my mind. Then one day he walked up to me on the subway.

"This seat taken?" he asked, and his accent baffled me for a moment. Almost russian, almost oriental, but not really either. Just exotic. I waited too long to answer, and he started to walk away.

"No, no - you can sit here." How lame was that?

But he sat. And he hummed softly, almost like a lullaby. His open eyes were a little unfocused, like so many commuters. But I was pretty sure he wasn't thinking about his job or family problems. Whatever he was thinking about made him happy.

He didn't fidget, but I did. And after a few stops, he turned those amazing eyes to me. I think his lips moved. Maybe he spoke. I was stuck like a bug in his amber gaze. Finally I did hear his chuckle. Him laughing at me had me blushing like a virgin bride.

He stole the pen I'd tucked into the spiral of the notebook I took almost everywhere with me, borrowed my hand, and wrote something on my palm, then put the pen back where he'd found it. All the while, I blushed into his grin, captured by his eyes. Then he was gone again, almost dancing out the door of the train.

Minutes later, I finally looked down to see what he had written, almost expecting a phone number, or maybe an e-mail address. There, written on my palm in my own green ink, were three words. "Tag, you're it."

*****

PS for flist: No, I didn't stop working on Notlar (or the Jack/Ianto/John piece) to write this - it's been hanging out for a while on the hard drive. Still working, honest.

Real life plot bunnies.

Mon, 23 Jun 2008 02:01:07 GMT

Seventeen revelations that made today a great learning experience:

1) Rain makes outdoor church picnics more fun.
2) Ponies bring out the best in people, even when they're wet.
3) Cutting the grass in a pasture with a finish mower stirs up incredible numbers of bugs but effectively spreads manure in the process, if you go slowly enough.
4) A two wheeled pony cart can magically transport two small children and one hopelessly immature adult driver to a land of wonder and back again - with a little help from a gravel road, a lively shetland and a bold rabbit.
5) Bumblebees are terrifying, when you're four.
6) Most adults these days have no idea how to act around ponies, but small children are instinctively cautious of their teeth.
7) Some people really do notice your contribution to the lives of those around you.
8) I have inadvertently trained the herd to see me as a lead mare in one pasture and a sheep dog in the other, and I have no idea when it happened.
9) Children with grass are much more interesting than adults with treats and lead lines.
10) The best way to escape the crowd is to do something for or with the kids.
11) Missouri is apparently the home to pony eating rabbits - terrifying beasts that could hop out of tall grass at any time and therefore require constant vigilance from at least one ear at all times.
12) Sandals are good shoes to wear to church picnics in the country - especially when the cars will be parked in the pasture, and you want to amuse the pasture's owner.
13) Gravel roads have more character when viewed from a pony cart.
14) The last people to leave any event will always be the ones who like each other and want to talk.
15) City people do not understand the fact that metal trash cans might be used for something besides putting trash in - like storing feed.
16) "Pot luck" means everyone brings their best or favorite foods - guaranteed to be a treat for adventurous eaters.
17) The folks who help you clean up after everyone else has gone are the ones who love you.

The huge smile currently still plastered on my face is entirely due to those seventeen items, and the fact that everything is finally back in order. Guests have gone home, ponies are back in their pasture, and I've had a shower. Yay! I'm also mildly dehydrated, slightly sunburned and totally physically exhausted. Reminder for next year - get volunteers for cleanup before the line for food starts. Hmm. Or maybe during the lineup....

There is a story for every "revelation" above. And that might just be the best learning experience of all.

Life is fun!

Feedback revelations?

Sun, 22 Jun 2008 05:34:03 GMT

This is another case of "work makes me think too hard" and so now I'm thinking about writing. So you know. It's all rambly and marginally incoherent (which is what happens when I work too many hours all on top of each other). That's all the warning you get. Read it if you're as interested in the process of writing (and/or life) as I am.

I was thinking about writing at work again today (not too abnormal for me). Specifically, I was thinking about lj, and how nice it was to be getting some concrit (that's my favorite new word) on my writing - fanfic and not. (And expect more not - I've got some shorts I'll post as soon as I get the time to revise.) Then I had a problem to deal with, and it involved the fact that one of the young people I work with had a gap in his training. Fixable - just like most things. But like most things, not an obvious lack. Until I got the feedback from another employee, I didn't know about the gap, and couldn't fix it. Which brought me back to thinking about lj and concrit. I actually believe that the wonderful responses I've gotten to my fiction have started to carry over into real life and my job. It was ridiculously easy to find the right words to let the young man know that I wasn't mad, just wanted to teach him policy and continue his training. I even took the opportunity to introduce the idea to the whole team (well, the part that was there) that learning is an ongoing process - not a finite goal. (Not that it will stick with all of them. Sigh.)

Yeah, I know, not a big revelation for myself. But (here I go thinking again) I think some of the others I work with might benefit from the idea. The problem is to introduce to old style managers (those who think they must always stay ahead of their employees in order to be in charge) the concept that sharing concrit is good. That feedback is essential to learning. That leading involves listening, thinking and learning, not just handing out orders and expecting them to be carried out.

Oh, wait, that could apply to everything, not just leadership and writing.

(That was sarcasm, in case anyone's meter needs adjusting.)

This is going to take some serious thinking, some subtle introductions to concepts alien to certain team members. So I think I'll go write more about an alien. (Wait, that was either incredibly incoherent or one of those intuitive leaps. Backward. It made sense to me, anyway.)

Feedback is love, is life, is as necessary as breathing and the lack of it can kill imagination, initiative, and communication. Positive feedback and constructive criticism are the fertilizer for the growth of the mind. And although that conjures an interesting baby-in-the-manure-pile image in my head, it also sings true in that old, wise part of me that I usually deny having. I still refuse to grow up, after all.

So please just ignore all of this (it's under the cut for a reason), go about your business, read the next story to show up here and continue to feed - um, I mean write me all the nice comments. I'll be here in my habitat, listening (reading), thinking, and learning. And, I hope, improving.

Critters

Tue, 17 Jun 2008 05:47:17 GMT

No totally lousy day at work is ever a waste. If for no other reason than the drive home, which for me is lovely. And tonight was special enough to share.

For a while now, I've made a little game of counting critters on my drives to and from my job in town. It sort of makes the drive more interesting. (My friends here would LOL - it's mostly a twisty road full of turns and hills, trees and fields and new things to see around every corner - but I drive it twice a day. The road is boring.) Most days, this time of year, I count turtles (got up to five once) and occasionally stop to move one off of the road, if it's trying to cross at a dangerous place. Yesterday's count in was more about turkey vultures - there must have been something dead and yummy in the field down by the river, because there were six there, and more coming in. And the other day's trip home was a count of possums - three, with a raccoon literally high tailing it away from my noisy car.

But tonight was magical. The sun was down, but the light lingered - that very slow sunset that happens here when it's been a hot, hazy day. The sky was blue slate, dark and cloudless, with stars glittering and the moon nearly full. There was a scribble of dark red orange to the right of the car, just over the hill past a field of corn that had grown half a foot today, at least. I was enjoying the view, looking for deer, because so often the last gasp of sunlight is their cue to go looking for a safe shelter for the night. Usually right across the road. But the corn, so nearly blue and waving for all the world like water in the field, had most of my attention. Until, from out of the middle of the blue corn sea flew a pale grey ghost - wide wings spread, little line legs stretched out below. Flight path right over me, and off above the road to my left. I caught the shape, curved line of breastbone and neck doubled back on itself looking so painfully right, feathers pale grey against the darker slate sky, no sound but a sweep of giant wings and the heron was gone, into trees and their shadows. A perfect image of a moment burned into my mind - a magical night, a magical field, a magical bird in flight.

Only a little farther along I was treated to a great black coil in the road. A rat snake, probably six or seven feet long, piled on top of itself, soaking in what was left of the day's heat. Already cooling, it lifted a sluggish head as I carefully went around. And stayed put in my rear view, still enjoying its dusty gravel road heat bath. Such a contrast for the swift disappearance of the heron.

So much simple magic in the world - wonders to see, and always a surprise or two along the way. You want to see them? Go outside, count the number of cicada voices you hear. Or loose yourself in the fantastic shapes of clouds. Or examine the patterns grass makes as it interweaves, growing in the yard. Spiderwebs hold whole stories in their glistening strands - just ask Charlotte. But the most miraculous is life, and it is all around us.

Writing habitat ....

Sat, 14 Jun 2008 15:17:18 GMT

Spoilers for Blood Noir, second part

Thu, 12 Jun 2008 06:57:41 GMT

Okay, fellow Anita Blake fans. Done with the book now. And if you don't want to know the ending, don't look under the cut! But wow - this one has left me waiting (not patiently, either) for the next book. Wow!

So, where did I leave off? Oh, yes, the bride to be. Who just turns out to be one of those Jason look alikes. Then the party, where the security acts weird enough to clue Anita in that something dangerous is going on involving, probably, Keith - so now she's worried. And to make things even more fun, the entertainment arrives - strippers, and one's a white tiger and one's a vampire. Jason lets himself be led away, only because Anita's tiger starts to rise.

And the metaphysical s#@% that so complicates her life begins. Wonder of wonders, Anita's starting to handle this part better! Until The Mother of All Darkness wanders in again. The pretty white tiger? He, another male tiger, and Jason all end up in Anita's bed, the tigers called so strongly they couldn't resist. Someone had to take the tiger, after all. And she rolled the white tiger(Tristan)! Rolled him, like she rolled Requiem. And they kept at it all night, all day, all the next night.

And then Richard. Still want to slap him. He's still caught up in his own issues, and they still get in the way of him being really useful to the triumverate. And Anita. He nearly rolls her - then she gets it. His anger is hers (we knew that from what - two books ago?), but when he directs it at her, she swallows it down. Drinks it. Feeds the ardeur (and if that's spelled wrong, sorry - remember I'm listening, not reading) with the anger. Wow!

But - not over yet! Once the Ulfric leaves (much more calm now) Anita and Jason have one last horrible bit of trouble. Vampires, who kidnap them, thinking Jason's Keith. And since Keith has run off with a vampire lover (old Zedadiah's flame!), they are in deep trouble. Anita wakes to the wonderful sounds of Jason being tortured to give up the location of the vampire lover - information he of course doesn't have. Wakes up bound, still full of tranquilizers. And then she kicks vampire butt. Of course. The vamps didn't have a chance! And saves the day - by forcing a nearly dead Jason's beast. By feeding him her own.

Wow, there are so many dangly bits now that I can't keep track. And can't wait for the next book. Wait, I alread said that! LOL! Keep it up, Laurell! You write beautiful books; very inspiring, very fun, very addictive!

Okay, all out of my system now. And of course I'm rereading it, but first, I'm going to finish that book I interrupted to read Blood Noir in the first place!

Plot, plot, plot.

Wed, 11 Jun 2008 06:53:35 GMT

Must share. I'm here writing along, and the story's going well, but I keep looking at it and asking myself when I'm going to get to the juicy scene I can see happening in the near future. Says something when I'm thinking plot and character development may be getting in the way of fun writing! LOL! So before I go nuts and mess up the plot by forcing the next scene....

No beta, no names, and no appologies!

She knelt on the bed, nude, waiting. The new neoprene blindfold was making her eyelids sweat and the familiar old cuffs caressing her wrists and ankles were already sending her to that warm, comfortable place that let her just be, just allow anything her Master wanted to happen. She could hear him moving in the room, unlocking the trunk where he kept toys. Her imagination started running. What would it be today? The sweet kiss of the flogger that would leave her skin warm and tingly and her eyes red from crying? Or the ropes that would hold her perfectly immobile for whatever torments he'd devised for the his amusement?

She actually hoped for the vibrators. The plug that filled her ass so well, and would pulse slowly inside her. The small egg that would buzz in her vagina, pressed so far in that it nudged her cervix. The little nubbly stick vibrator that he'd play over her clitoris until she came screaming, begging him to stop or not to stop - she was never sure exactly what she wanted by the time he'd brought her to an orgasm or three. She loved the sweaty feel of waking up after multiple orgasms to the feeling of the vibrators still inside her, his warm hand resting on her mound, or holding one breast.

Oh, but her breasts were one of his favorite playthings. He had no less than six different sets of nipple clamps, each one with it's own brand of burning, biting pain. And since he'd never put them on until he'd played rough games with her nipples, the pain was always sharp going on, and sharp coming off, leaving her gasping and sobbing for air.

There were so many possibilities in the trunk. Fur and leather and other toys. The sheath he'd put on his cock that left it thicker and longer and covered in ribs and knobs. The dreaded box of clothespins, all strung together so a hard jerk could pull them all off at once. The paddles and crops and switches. The collection of dildos. The marshmallow gun.

And she knew he was drawing out her suspense, making her wait nude and wanting. Making her want it even more. Seeing if she'd beg from simply not being touched. He knew her, knew her every desire, her every kink, her every whim.

After all, he was her Master, and she was his to play with.

Thanks - that's out of my system now. Please feel free to comment - I live for feedback!

More Spike/Cap'n Hart

Sun, 08 Jun 2008 03:31:27 GMT

Title: Fangboy's First Taste
Author: dwolf34
Rating: R (m/m, violence)
Characters/Pairings: Captain John Hart/Spike
Disclaimer: Torchwood and Buffy characters aren't mine. Russell T. Davies and Joss Whedon are the awesome creators. No profit made and no harm meant.
Spoilers: Um, none, I think.

Summary: Unbetta'd smut, sparked by something coffeegirl18 suggested - grown all out of control now. If you missed the first part, this isn't going to make much sense. Catch "Spiked Snack" here. The plot that seems to have crept in isn't my fault. Really.

---

Captain John Hart shivered in the London rain, wondering for the hundredth time this week how these twenty first century barbarians managed to survive without decent climate control. He'd come to this dingy part of the city's underbelly trolling for trouble, looking for some action. He didn't even really care what kind, but was sort of hoping to get mugged. So he could beat someone to a bloody pulp, and get it out of his system.

Without getting on Captain Jack Harkness's bad side when he found out. That was a relationship he was trying to patch up, after all. With hopes to include eye candy - in the middle, preferably. His mind wandered the possibilities, getting caught up in delicious mental scenes. So the attack came as a complete surprise.

It had been two full months since he'd been handled so embarrassingly quickly. The brute strength behind the attack made his heart race, and he couldn't make up his mind if he was actually scared or turned on by the cold body against his back and the colder hand pressing his face into the dirty brick wall. Until said body spoke in an unfamiliar female voice.

"Big guns won't help you now, will they, bloodbag?" The voice crooned, close to his ear. A fang grazed over the lobe, and John shuddered. Then abruptly, the body disappeared.

"Oh, no, that'd be my snack, dollygirl. Get your own." That voice was familiar. As was the casually crooned tone. The nearly sickening slap of harder than usual flesh against the far wall, though, was a new twist.

John turned slowly, knowing what he'd see - long black coat, pale blonde hair, brow ridges marring the handsome and overly familiar face of his double. He held his hands away from his body, knowing he was no match for the man who'd just tossed a full grown woman halfway down the alley. "Hello again, pretty. Miss me?" Flirting had worked last time, after all.

The man in black paced toward him. "Been tracking you, gunboy. What do you think?"

John was backed against the wall, and he let it happen. He was aware his heart was racing again, and this time knew exactly why. "Obviously you wanted a repeat performance. I'm good. Could we dispense with the bruises and running, this time? I've just gotten over the last set." He risked a glance at the woman, but she was already backing away, leaving the two of them alone.

"Suits. But no gunfire, either. I like this shirt." The vampire stopped with their chests almost touching, and John was looking into his double's eyes. Eyes that were studying him very closely.

"And - just a suggestion - but how about a bed this time? Concrete - hard on the knees." He swept his gaze down the other's body. All black, tonight, but the shirt was still silk and the pants still skin tight leather. He reached out and petted the cool silk.

The vampire - Spike - laughed. "Thought we'd settled all that last time, snack."

"Yeah. And I seem to remember a no biting thing, too." But that black shirt was distracting, and the skin beneath - just gorgeous.

"Went right along with no shooting." Spike leaned in, stopped just before their lips met. "Eating you - too weird. Like suicide, but not."

John breathed in the vampire's scent. The memory of the taste of him came with it, and the ex time agent moaned, closed that tiny distance between them and fed at that mouth. Spike took control instantly, pushing John back against the wall, thrusting his tongue deep. John's world dissolved in the sensation. No telling how long they stayed in liplock. John tried to follow Spike's mouth when the vampire pulled back, but a firm hand on his chest stopped him.

"Your place or mine, snack?" There was an amused glint in the vampire's eyes.

John took a deep breath, the hand on his chest giving him room to do so. "Yours, since I don't have one." He cocked his head to one side. "Curious, though. Am I living through this? Because if not I'd just like to grab one last taste of that nice little Indian place around the corner. Peanuts and chicken - who knew?"

The vampire smiled. "I said eating you was too weird, gunboy. Not into narcicistic canabalism. Except...."

There would be an exception, and it would make John's heart race. "Except."

The smile on his double's face became a grin. "You're cute when you're scared, snack. And you smell even better." He leaned in close to John's ear, breath cool against his pulse. "Except I want a different sort of taste. No fair you got the only one last time. Rushed, I was."

John moaned, closed his eyes. He was really going to let the vampire put his mouth - there. Because he wanted it so much. "I know what you are, now. Who you are, Spike. Death follows you like a shadow. I kill things like you for a living."

"But you won't do me, will you?" Spike's voice was sure, his lips just touching John's skin.

"No." John let his hand trail down Spike's arm, over the hand that held him still. "Can we go now?"

---

Spike made John chase him, but didn't quite lose him anywhere along the way. John used his vortex manipulator to lock on to the vampire, just in case. When they got there, Spike's "place" turned out to be a basement flat with an industrial steel door, no windows, and the barest of essential furniture. The door had an interior bar, which Spike dropped into place as soon as they were inside. John did near automatic recon, which was pretty easy - three rooms. One was the main room with kitchenette, couch, bachelor style entertainment system, and one little table that held the remotes and a black mug. The next was a bathroom with a stained tub and cracked toilet lid. Then was the bedroom, which actually held a bed, sturdy chair covered in clothing, and two nightstands covered in candles and wax drippings. Spike pushed past him into the room and started lighting candles. John leaned against the door frame.

John had his libido back under control, for the moment, and the vampire's consideration was amusing. He'd almost expected to be tossed onto the bed as soon as they were in the door. "You can't seriously be seducing me with candle light, can you?"

Spike shrugged. "I like candles. So many possibilities." The vampire moved to the far side of the bed to light the candles there. "Gonna stand there all night, or get naked? Or I could rip you out of the clothing."

John gave it a bare moment's thought, then started stripping. "You're the one who likes that shirt. You are joining me, yes?"

Spike's long coat hit the wall beside John with a force that made him jump. When he looked up, he found Spike already nude, lying on the bed, looking luscious. His libido roared back to life, and he fumbled at his gun belt for a moment, suddenly unable to get his fingers to work right. The vampire licked his lips, and John moaned and turned his focus to his clothing, glad there wasn't anything he could break with his fumbling. Kicking his feet free of the pants, finally, he walked as calmly as possible over to the bed, watching the vampire give him hungry eyes.

"Heart's doing that cute speed metal beat again, snack." Spike patted the mattress beside him. "Thought I'd lost you there for a moment."

Yeah, his heart was racing, so he took a moment to look the lean body before him over. "Just taking a break in the excitement." He crawled onto the bed, went willingly into the arms that could crush him, the mouth that could literally devour him, heartbeat and all. The fear was intoxicating sauce.

Spike claimed his mouth again, this kiss almost brutal in its intensity. But only almost. When it was over and the vampire let him breathe again, John realized he was on his back, with the vampire's knees between his own. "I want your surrender, snack. Hands on the headboard, 'cause you know your body's all mine."

John licked his lips, reached above his head, blindly found the headboard. "Cuffs are in the coat pocket, pretty."

"Doubt your own self control?" Blue eyes laughed down at him while cool fingers trailed over his chest.

John gave that a breathy laugh back. "With you? I'm here, aren't I, fangboy?"

"Point." The vampire leaned down and nibbled blunt teeth across his collarbone. "Want the cuffs?"

John gripped the headboard tighter, tried his hardest not to writhe under the vampire. "Sorry. Question was?"

Spike laughed. "Never mind, snack. Just hold on - as long as you can."

The true assault began then. Cool lips, fingers, tongue and teeth explored John's skin, teasing with incredible skill. All thought fled, leaving him drowning in sensation, clutching the headboard like it was a lifeline. By the time the cool mouth surrounded his pulsing cock, he was past anything but simple reaction. He moaned and tried to thrust deeper, but hands like steel bands held his hips down. The mouth moved frustratingly slowly, making him ache and want, but not quite giving him enough friction for completion. At the fringes of his consciousness, he realized that someone in the room was begging and that begging was full of desperation. The torment at his groin continued to be his total focus, so the begging that just might be his own didn't bother him.

Then a fang grazed his tender flesh. John opened his eyes to see the vampire's golden ones looking up at him from under brow ridges, a rather evil question there. John gulped, managed a nod, and dropped back on the bed. He was going to die under those fangs, but as long as he came before he died it would be worth it.

The graze of fang deepened, drawing a hot line on tender flesh. John groaned with it, because by now, it was all sensation, and all sensation was good, and that line of heat brought him so close. Then Spike was sucking strongly, moving more quickly, giving him what he needed. John climaxed with a scream that started in his groin and gained volume on the way up. Spike pulled every tiny bit of orgasm from him, swallowing it down. Then he sat up, licking lips that were red with John's blood.

"Just the snack I needed." Much warmer fingers trailed down John's thighs.

"I should shoot you now." John panted, knowing he'd never reach a gun, and not really having the energy left to try.

"Thought the foreplay was over. But if you insist...." Spike rolled off the bed, came up with John's gunbelt. A gentle toss put both guns in John's easy reach.

But that would have meant letting go of the headboard, which he didn't think he could. "Maybe later. You bit."

"You said yes. Well, nodded, but same thing." The vampire fumbled in his coat, dug out a cigarette case and lighter. He sat on the bed by John's head, leaned back against the headboard, offered John the case.

John finally let the headboard go. "No thanks. One rehab had to stick." He rolled his stiff shoulders, sat up, couldn't help checking himself out, looking at the bite.

"Just a scratch, snack. A taste." Warm fingers stroked his back, and the tone in that rich voice was gentle. Interesting.

"So what now? Do I turn?" John pushed himself back, leaned against the headboard beside the vampire.

Spike's hand settled on his thigh. "Did you die?"

John gave the vampire a puzzled look. "No."

Spike chuckled. "You didn't die, you didn't drink my blood. You won't turn." A very speculative look was turned on him. "There's still time, though. To die." He looked pointedly down at his own lap, the still impressive hard on there.

"Threats, threats. Don't you people know how to say please?" John moved, because he wanted a better angle, wanted to taste that pretty cock again.

"Usually don't bother." Spike spread his legs, moved his hands, gave John room for the angle he was looking for. John ended up on his knees, one hand braced on the now familiar headboard, the other free to fondle balls that were warmer than last time.

"You're warm." He breathed over the head of John's cock, hovering there, tasting the scent of the man. Teasing them both.

"Your blood." Spike moaned. "Get on with it, already."

"Say it." John punctuated his demand with a quick lick before turning enough to see the vampire's face.

Spike glared. "Fine. Please. Now."

John chuckled at the demand in Spike's voice but gave them both what they wanted. That silky flesh was still like candy, but already warm this time. Not quite human warm, but close. He thought briefly of teasing his double more, but the moan he got from simply swallowing him down let him know that teasing wouldn't be appreciated. So he settled for worshiping the pretty cock, rolling the heavy balls in his fingers, setting a slow but building pace, swallowing that hard flesh down as often as he could. In return, he got one hand stroking his back and the other still on his head. And a wildly moaning vampire tensed under him, holding himself still until his control slipped and his orgasm took over. John swallowed that down, too, and held still warm flesh in his mouth until it softened.

Then he flopped bonelessly over onto his back on the bed. Spike was suddenly on his hands and knees, framing John's body. "So glad I found you again, snack."

"Me too." John made himself stay relaxed, even though he was trapped. "Dollygirl would have eaten me."

"You're mine, gunboy, don't forget again. You want to hunt the uglies, you come here first, take me with you." Spike dropped his weight onto John, caught his head in one hand, and kissed him again. "I'm not sharing your tasty self with anyone."

John blinked. "Not that I don't like what you have to offer - except the death part - but I've got other interests. Old friends, new fucks."

Spike looked down at him, considering. "Any of them vampires?"

"No." At least John didn't think so.

"Fine then. Nobody bites but me - that's the rules." Spike pressed their groins together. "And you never even ask about my others. Clear, snack?"

"Clear, fangboy." John took a deep breath and tried to ignore the rising need in his groin. "Now get off - you're heavy."

Spike rolled to the side, chuckling. "Let's go hunting."

John grinned. He couldn't think of a better way to spend his nights than hunting "uglies" beside this powerful man.

---

End

Spoilers for Blood Noir, part 1

Fri, 06 Jun 2008 04:00:12 GMT

I'm not done with the book yet, folks, but have been asked, so, if you don't want to know, don't look behind the cut!

I will say that it's good. Steamy, full of plot and character development! If you've loved the last couple, you'll love this one, too.

So you want to know? Okay! Have you read the first chapter she posted on the website? Go. Steamy starts there, and ends with Anita, Jason and Nathaniel in bed. Together. Not for sleeping. Hot!

So then the plot starts. Jason's dad's dying, and he needs to go see him. And needs support. So they talk Anita into going. (You can imagine how easy that was - oh wait, no, you're going to read this book, you don't have to imagine.) And get to the little town Jason grew up in. Where Anita discovers that Jason has doubles - twins just as handsome as him - one of whom is a real a$#*#@%, and masqueraded as Jason in the past. Lots of complications and fun arise from the situation, since Keith, the bad boy, is getting married the same weekend they're there. Not to mention the total weirdness of the little community and the strange resemblance many of them have to each other - Jason has lots of cousins that look more like sisters and brothers.

Jason dated (and, admitted sex addict that he is, bedded) most of them.

I'm about two thirds of the way through, now, and there have only been two sex scenes - the first and another with Jason (a feeding) in the hotel room. But right now, that's where Anita and Jason are heading, so yeah! Oh wait. I read Anita Blake for the plot.

And the plot is thick, complex, and character building. Anita, with Jason's help, is beginning to realize that what she's been doing is making things harder for Jean Claude. (Does anyone else remember when Anita's comment to that would have been "Good."?) And she's decided to do what she can about it. She's growing up! Oh wow, and so are some of the people she's closest to.

This a story that's going to make you hate the press even more. Except certain closeted werewolf journalists, who are about to do some wonderful things for Jean Claude and St. Louis' vampire population. Good PR, to offset bad press (some small town reporter covering the wedding recognized Jason and Anita and printed the story that they had run off together - away from Jean Claude. As if. Jason likes being Jean Claude's Pomme de Sangre, and while Anita isn't out as his human servant, she is out as his girlfriend.

Oh, and by the by, just a while back, Anita conceded the point that Jean Claude should really be sleeping around (since she is), and suggested sharing the men (those who were willing, anyway) with him.

Threesomes really do "flat do it" for Anita. And make this reader sigh. Lovely! Looking forward to more.

I'll spoil the rest - and probably the ending - after I've finished the book. Audio, remember, and being "read" primarily in the car to and from work. Something like five hours left. (Woo Hoo - then I'll read it again!)

Ah, thank you for letting me get that out of my system. Going back to write, now!

fangush

Fri, 30 May 2008 16:38:47 GMT

Laurell K. Hamilton's Blood Noir. Just got it on mp3 through Audible.

Okay, you folks don't know me so let me introduce myself. I'm a tech geek/gadget girl who's always got one hard book (that's the paper variety), one audio book and one ebook being read currently at any given time. And various stories/novels in various writing stages. Not to mention the WOD rpg I'm currently storytelling face to face. If it sounds like lots going on, well, that's just how my brain works, I'm discovering. I write to music, read to music, sometimes read and watch tv at the same time. I really do multitask. Darn plot/character happy brain never stops working.

Once upon a time, I thought the only way to write was to stick to the plotline/story I'd started until the bitter end. And was thoroughly disgusted with myself that I couldn't get anything finished. Then I had this incredible revelation last year. All those unfinished stories are still in my head. And if I stop when I get tired of something, work on something else for a while, then come back, the stories go better, get stronger, and continue developing. Things even get finished. (Even fanfic - go figure.)

So what does this have to do with LKH's new release? I'm getting there.

People in my real life around me have gotten used to some of my oddnesses. Like the fact that I live with a notepad in my back pocket, and fondly refer to it as "brain 2.0". I'd be lost without that thing - story/poetry ideas happen when I'm in the oddest places. Traffic jams. Fast food lines. The pasture. The day job (of all places). They forgive me my tendency to grab the thing and jot notes in the middle of conversations. Mostly.

Then there's the number thing. That is, my total mental block where it comes to numbers. Something I've struggled with since grade school. Since discovered that it's linked in with other bits of the way my brain works - making intuitive jumps, being slightly dyslexic, slightly bipolar and incredibly stubborn. Just me, in other words. And me and numbers don't get along. I don't memorize phone numbers (go ahead, ask me - watch me dig out the cell so I can give you my own phone number *sheesh*), have incredible problems balancing the checkbook (oh, wait, I don't do that anymore, just check the account online), and create cross check figures to make sure my daily paperwork at work goes in right most of the time. Yes, I still make mistakes.

All that said, I have thirteen hours and twenty six minutes of pure bliss coming up. And I didn't have to look that number up - it's the run length of both parts of Blood Noir - and wonder of wonders, I even spelled that right the first time. The Audible release and my membership points came in at almost the same time, and despite being more than halfway through the first half of another audio book, I just downloaded LKH's to the mp3 player - had to pull the other off to do it. Oh, I'll go back and finish the other book. It was really good. But after I've listened to this one. Maybe twice.

So here I am, hopeless fangirl, can't wait to get in the car so I can surround myself with my favorite author. I know I'm going to do farm chores with the book in my ears, and ignore other reading, and maybe not even get any writing done while I listen through the first time.

That's what the post is all about - the explanation for the possibility that no one may hear from me for a bit. Shh. Can't you see I'm reading over here? Be back soon. Promise.

Rubber Bands

Wed, 28 May 2008 04:59:22 GMT

Title: Rubber Bands
Author: dwolf34
Rating: R (m/m, BDSM, office supplies, mentions sentient pet)
Characters/Pairings: Torchwood team, OFC (Notlar), Jack/Ianto
Disclaimer: Torchwood and its characters don't belong to me; nice folks at the BBC got to them first. Just borrowing, no profit, everyone goes home unharmed.
Spoilers: Maybe a little for Season Two. Nah. This is AU, after "Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang".

Summary: BDSM smut, and I decided not to edit out what tiny bits of plot remain. Original scene was in "Not Sleeping", and is simply expanded here. Because it wouldn't get out of my brain until I wrote it. *grin* If you just found this, the first part is "The Things Jack Does". If you've been waiting for this post, thanks for your patience. Now, finally, I can go write the rest of the sequel: "Nothing Lost".

___

"Needs paint." Jack said.

He was right - what was left of the little paint the room had once had was patchy. Strange that Notlar had started outside the room. But there was obviously some plan. Paint cans, drop cloths, rollers and brushes were over by the boxes.

"And a rug." Ianto turned to Jack. "You, spread out on those sheets."

"Nude?" Jack was already headed to the bed.

Ianto shrugged. "Why rush things?"

Jack spread himself, fully clothed, onto the bed. "Because I want you, Ianto Jones."

Ianto leaned against the bedpost and just looked. Jack lay, passive, waiting, eyes never leaving Ianto, but roaming his body, lingering on his face. "We have all night."

"Barring a rift alarm, weevil attack, or other emergency." Jack grinned. "Of course, Notlar may just call the others and leave us alone tonight. Down here, we'd never hear the alarms."

"You think it would?" Ianto sat on the end of the bed, began taking Jack's shoes off.

Jack tucked another pillow under his head so he could watch. "I only asked it to watch things - didn't specify what to do about them. I almost hope something does happen, so I can find out what it will do on its own."

"Could be risky, Jack." First one shoe, then the other was tossed over Ianto's shoulder.

"Nah." Jack wriggled his toes when Ianto freed them from his socks. "It's going to act in it's best interest, which, for now, is ours."

Ianto lifted one of Jack's feet into his lap and began to massage it. Really he was wondering when Jack would get tired of taking it slow and jump him. It was almost a game between them. He teased, Jack lost it, both of them enjoyed the sex. But Jack was talking - talking would keep him distracted. "Are you sure? We've only known it, what? Two weeks?"

Jack moaned and slumped back onto the pillows. Ianto noted that either his technique was improving or Jack had been on his feet too much lately. It took him a moment to answer. "What do you think it, thinks I'd do to it if I was disappointed?"

Ianto dug into Jack's arch with both thumbs just to get another of those expressive moans. "Probably confine it to the cell again. Which it hates almost to the point of fear. I see your point."

"And it has its rules." Jack's eyes were closed now, and he was actually starting to relax. That was rare enough that Ianto prolonged the foot rub. "You didn't feel that collar. Not sitting right down on the stool felt like I was betraying you. The rules say it can't hurt any of you, so if it thinks you really want this time alone with me, it's going to do everything it can to give it to you."

"True enough. I asked it what it wanted, tonight." Ianto leaned down and kissed Jack's big toe. "Give me your other foot."

"Pushy." Jack switched feet, adjusted himself on the big bed, and sighed happily. "What did it say?"

"That what it wanted didn't matter." Ianto concentrated on Jack's foot and his soft moans for a bit.

"It was bred to be a pet, and that's what it wants to be. But it's flawed, feral. Wrong." Jack sighed. "Ianto?"

"Yes Jack?" Ianto looked up, got caught in those intense eyes.

"Would you... I mean, I need, well." Jack at a loss for words - wonder of wonders.

"What do you need tonight, Jack?" Ianto asked softly. He thought he knew, but he had to hear it - to be sure.

"You. In charge. Please." Jack said it quietly, but without looking away, without blushing. Not begging, just asking.

"Anything more specific?" Ianto asked, laying Jack's foot aside.

Jack shook his head. "Don't take the handle off. Don't kill me."

"Odd rules you have, Jack." Ianto stood, took off his jacket, laid it over the back of a chair. He liked where this was going, but was a little worried that Jack had left things so open. It wasn't like him.

Jack tracked him, but stayed where he was. "Notlar will know if either of those things happen. Anything else, it's going to ignore."

"Anything?" Ianto sat beside Jack's hip. Jack nodded. Ianto began unbuttoning that blue shirt. "I want you nude."

"I can do that." Jack reached to help with the buttons, but Ianto caught his hands, laid them back on the bed.

"You can lie still. Or you can be tied up." Ianto went back to the buttons, taking his time, determined to make the most of this.

Jack grinned and reached to help again. Eager for the bondage, then. Good, because Ianto wasn't sure he could stay in charge if Jack wasn't restrained. He caught Jack's wrists and just held them this time. "Do you really want me in charge, Jack?" A nod, but with some hesitation around the eyes. "Shall we do this the formal way? Because I have played Dom before."

"Is that what you want?" Jack seemed interested, anyway.

Ianto shook his head. "That wasn't the question."

Jack nodded once, and he was sure again. "Yes, I want you in charge. We can do this formally if you want to - I don't really have a preference."

Ianto let Jack's hands go. "Not formal tonight, then. But I do expect to be obeyed."

Jack spread himself on the bed again. "Yes sir." He said it while looking into Ianto's eyes, but it still sounded sincere.

"Oh, I'm not going to forget that easily. You practically asked to be tied up, Jack." Ianto unbuttoned his own cuffs, started rolling his sleeves up. Adjusted himself to this role, to its thrill. "And I think you really should get busy finding me something to restrain you with."

Jack dropped his eyes. "Yes sir." And just like that, he rolled off the bed and started hunting among the boxes.

Ianto let him for a moment. "Jack?" He froze and turned to Ianto. "I went through its apartment - nothing there. You'll have to go upstairs." Jack nodded and went for the door. "Jack?" Again those blue eyes turned back to him. He smiled at them. "Bring back anything else you'd like used on you tonight, too."

Jack grinned. "Yes sir." And he was gone.

Ianto took off his tie, put it with his jacket. He took a moment to walk around the bed, checking just how sturdy it really was. He shifted both side tables a little so he could access all four heavy posts of the bed. All the while he thought about Jack, and what could have brought this on. It was likely just the tension of dealing with Notlar twenty-four seven.

Tonight Jack wanted something different. It was in his eyes, and the way he'd challenged Ianto to tie him up. And there was no way Ianto was going to disappoint Jack. Jack, who was usually so very dominant, both in and out of bed, all of the sudden asking to switch roles. Yes, he'd let Ianto top, but that had been more traditional sex - almost vanilla. Tonight Ianto was going to have to work a little harder.

But he wasn't going to have to wait. Jack was back with a black leather overnighter so quickly he must have been running. Ianto turned a chair around so it faced the bed, sat down, pointed to the floor in front of his feet. Jack came to him and knelt, eyes down, bag beside him. The first real rush of the power play swept through Ianto, and he savored it. Then he got to work.

"What did you bring me?" Ah, good, he'd gotten the only mildly interested tone he wanted perfectly.

Jack dipped a hand into the bag, brought out a very familiar tube of lube. He looked up with a grin as he showed it to Ianto. "You don't like dry." Which was a familiar tease. Usually, it was what sent Ianto scrambling for the lube.

Ianto suppressed his answering grin. "Good of you to remember. That's not what I sent you after, though."

Jack dropped his gaze, but not the grin. "No sir. Will these work?" He brought out a set of four leather bondage restraints, two inches wide and traditional black. "There's rope to go with; four pieces, ten feet long each." He offered the leather to Ianto, who took one.

Ianto took his time examining the cuff. It was good, sturdy work, and had seen some use but was still supple enough not to chafe. He brought it to his nose. It didn't smell like Jack. "Where did these come from?"

"A past lover." Jack continued to hold the other restraints, still and patient. The grin stayed in place. "He liked being helpless and out of control."

"Have you ever worn them?" Ianto took two more from Jack, leaving him with one of the larger ankle cuffs.

"No sir." Jack took a deep breath. "Trust issues." He looked up into Ianto's eyes. The grin was gone, replaced by a soft smile. "I'll wear them for you."

Ianto answered that smile, leaned in, kissed Jack gently. Then he sat back in the chair, pointed at the cuff in Jack's hand. "Put it on, then."

Jack sat and buckled the cuff around his ankle, with no hesitation, no worry in his face. Ianto tossed him the other ankle cuff and Jack put that one on, too. He knelt again, and offered both wrists to Ianto. Ianto leaned forward to loosen shirt cuffs. Jack's watch and vortex manipulator went into Ianto's pocket. The handle gleamed against Jack's arm. Ianto stroked a finger over the warm metal. Then he buckled the restraints around Jack's wrists.

"What's in the bag, Jack?" Ianto needed to know what sort of tone Jack was looking for - besides sex. What he'd brought and how he presented it should be all the clues Ianto needed. Much easier than experimenting, and more likely to produce satisfying results.

"Not much. If we plan on doing this often, I'm going to have to go shopping." Jack reached into the bag, took out a very familiar stopwatch. "This has been fun, though."

"Yes, it has." Ianto took it, grinning, and put it in his pocket.

Jack reached in again. He put a thick barreled red marker into Ianto's hand, then a wooden ruler. "There are some rubber bands and paper clips in there. I was improvising in a hurry, so that's all." Jack took out four neat, small coils of rope, shaking each free of rubber bands.

"And you have an office fetish." That brought Jack's grin back. Ianto put the marker in his shirt pocket. The ruler he kept in his hands, running his fingers over the smooth wood. "What would you have brought if you'd had it?"

Jack shrugged. "Flogger, probably. Maybe a cock ring." He was watching Ianto's hands and the ruler. "There's always my belt - or yours."

Ianto stood, gathered up the ropes and walked to the bed. Jack stayed where he was, which was good. Ianto needed a moment to plan. He laid the ropes and ruler on the bed, then took one rope and started undoing the knot that held it neat. Bondage, some light pain. Skip thoughts of humiliation - Ianto hadn't ever seen his Captain blush, no matter what the situation. Come to think of it, most things that he considered humiliating generally turned Jack on. Which put a new light on things. He took a quick look at the marker - permanent, but no toxicity warnings - and his plan took shape.

First, he needed Jack nude and restrained. "Stand up, Jack." He didn't turn to see if he was obeyed. He tied two of the ropes up near the tops of the heavy posts at the foot of the bed, made sure they were secure, then tied the other two to the bottoms of the same posts. When he finally turned back to Jack, he was surprised to see that he'd stood in place, facing away from the bed, and seemed to be waiting patiently.

Well, except for occasionally twitching fingers.

Ianto walked around Jack, pushed the chair out of the way. Jack smiled but stayed put. Ianto stopped just a foot from Jack's chest, took a long moment to admire him. The blue shirt was partially unbuttoned - exactly where he'd left it. The white tee shirt beneath hugged the lines of his chest, emphasized them. The bulge at the front of his pants was already prominent, and Ianto's mouth watered. Oh, yes, he was getting a taste of that tonight, too.

"Like what you see?" Jack asked quietly. He really was unable to not flirt.

Ianto considered, then closed the distance between them. "Too many clothes on you, Jack." He finished unbuttoning the shirt, hands pressed between them. Jack kept eye contact and stayed put, but Ianto could see it was an effort. Praise was in order. "You behaving is an incredible turn on, you know."

The twitching stopped. "I can behave."

Ianto pushed Jack's suspenders off his shoulders. "You make that sound like a challenge."

Jack took a deep breath. "It is. To myself."

"Very enlightened." Ianto pulled Jack's shirt out of his trousers, pushed it off his shoulders, and let it fall. It hung on the restraints a little, and Jack let Ianto free both sleeves. The tee shirt followed, and Jack moved only enough to keep Ianto from struggling with it. "Shame you want to be tied up tonight. We could push that resolve of yours. I wonder just how much you'd take before your self control slipped." Ianto unbuckled Jack's belt, slid a couple of fingers under his waistband.

Jack's breath caught at the touch. "Another time, please." That was a husky whisper.

"I'll take that as a promise, then." Ianto pulled Jack against him by the waistband, his other hand slipping around behind Jack. He ran short nails up Jack's back and had to support them both for a moment as Jack arched into him with a groan.

"Promise. Yes." Jack panted. Somewhere in there his eyes had closed. "Please."

"Please what, Jack?" Ianto teased while he waited for Jack to gain his balance again.

Jack stood on his own, opened blue eyes to look across the inches to Ianto. "Take me out of myself."

Ianto was totally unable to keep from kissing him again. Then he grinned. "I'll do my best." He stepped back, took Jack's gun and belt with him. "Go on over to the bed, Jack. I want those hands of yours tied before you forget you're supposed to be behaving."

"Yes sir," Jack said, even as the moved.

Ianto grabbed the lube and laid it and the gun on a side table, in easy reach from the bed. Jack waited at the foot of the bed, arms raised. Ianto ran the belt through his fingers while Jack watched. His reaction was hot - cock twitching, hands fisting, breath speeding, eyes sparkling with anticipation. Ianto dropped the belt beside the ruler and set himself to making Jack helpless.

First the ropes for his wrists, which Ianto tied with quick release knots that would let him free Jack with a couple of hard tugs. Jack would even be able to free himself - with some effort. That margin of safety, of thought for Jack's admitted trust issues got Ianto another smile and a very quiet "Thank you," from Jack. Ianto repaid it with a nibble to Jack's ear.

Next, Jack's remaining clothing went. Ianto pushed his trousers down with only the briefest admiration for the satin boxers with shimmering dragon print. They went down too. Jack picked up his feet only when Ianto asked him to, and spread them wider than Ianto would have asked. Ianto trusted Jack to know his own limits and tied his ankles to the bedposts with two more quick releases. Then he stepped back a moment to admire Jack's nude bound form, walking around to sit on the bed.

Jack's breathing had gone slow and even, and he was still in his bonds, waiting. His eyes were open and he was aware. Just, Ianto realized, behaving. And wearing that soft smile Ianto loved to see - the one that touched his heart in places that were still sometimes raw from losses. Touched, and soothed.

"Look at me, Jack." Blue eyes and soft smile turned immediately to Ianto. "That's it. Focus on me, on what I'm doing. Nothing else matters right now, does it?"

"No sir," Jack said quietly.

Ianto wasn't sure that was the truth, but let it go. "Tell me why you want the belt." Something Ianto had to know before he used it.

"Pain's the easiest thing to focus on. A reminder I'm alive. That I'm letting this happen - that you'll do this for me - those are incredible turn ons, too. And I need to let go. Just for a little while." That was the truth, and something Ianto could live with.

Ianto reached out and stroked Jack's hard cock - one finger over that silky skin. Jack's breathing caught again. Ianto concentrated on teasing for a moment, until Jack arched into the gentle touches, moaning. Then he took out the marker.

"Watch." Obedient, Jack looked, following the marker to his leaking member, where Ianto wrote his name in capital letters, the red marks barely standing out on the flushed skin. Jack grabbed the ropes and strained to be still while Ianto finished. The "o" at the end circled the head, and smeared through the little trickle of precome. The marker, Ianto mused, was probably ruined - but for such a good cause. Well, he'd better finish with it before it stopped working and canceled some of his - their - fun.

Ianto slid off the bed and walked around behind Jack again. "Paying attention?"

"Yes sir," was the immediate answer.

"Good. There's a quiz coming up." Ianto steadied them both with a hand on Jack's hip. Then he wrote, diagonally, across Jack's right buttock, making the letters large enough to spread all the way across.

Jack spoke each letter as he wrote. "H, E, R, E. Is that an exclamation point, sir?"

"Yes, very good." Ianto added a nibble to the praise, right at the bottom of the punctuation in question. "There's a prize if you get it all correct." He started on Jack's left buttock, printing in the same diagonal.

"S, P, A, N... oh yes. K! Please." The last was a moan.

Ianto capped the marker and pressed himself up against Jack's back. One hand caught Jack's chin and turned his ear to a good position for nibbling. The other hand slid around Jack's hip to cup his balls.

"What does it say, Jack?" Ianto asked, just above a whisper. Punctuation was a lick to Jack's earlobe.

"Spank here, sir." Jack took a deep breath. "All caps, with an exclamation point. That's shouting, in web speak, you know."

"And shouting is exactly what I expect you'll be doing. Since I'm planning to do what it says until I can't read it any more." His crooned words brought an answering moan from Jack, another twitch from that hard cock. "First, though, your prize."

Ianto stepped back, unbuttoned his vest, tossed it on top of his jacket and tie. He picked up the bag and crawled onto the bed. He dumped the bag's remaining contents on top of the belt and ruler, grinning at the number of rubber bands. "Planning to start a rubber band war, were you, Jack?"

Ianto looked up barely in time to see Jack lick his lips, hungrily. "No. Just...prepared."

"For kinky rubber band sex?" Ianto sat within easy reach of Jack and started picking out rubber bands, looking for the right sizes.

"For anything, but kinky rubber band sex sounds like the best use for them."

Ianto looked up to find a sizzling smile. "What happened to 'sir'?"

The smile faltered, but only a little. "Sorry, sir. Didn't think we were being formal."

"We aren't, but I liked it." Ianto decided eight was a good number and shook them together over his thumb to line them up.

Jack's eyes never really left Ianto's hands. "I'll remember that, sir."

A quick twist of both sets of fingers on the gathered rubber bands gave Ianto exactly what he wanted - a thick, lumpy rubber ring. It was a bit larger around than he'd have chosen as a cock ring, but it would do. He stretched it over the fingers of one hand and reached for Jack. "I'm afraid this is going to catch in some small hairs here, Jack. Can you take it?"

"Yes sir. Please." There was just the right amount of pleading in Jack's voice. Working without safewords made Ianto just a little more cautious, but Jack was eager, pushing his hips a bit farther forward.

Ianto used both hands to get the improvised ring into place. Jack's balls went through without mishap, but the extra strain as he stretched the ring over Jack's proud penis was too much for one of the older office drawer denizens. It snapped somewhere under Jack's balls and popped Ianto's finger on one side and Jack's cock on the other. Jack grunted and stiffened, but when Ianto looked up, he was smiling again.

"More, please, sir?" Jack begged. And since his cock hadn't softened a bit, Ianto kissed it.

"Maybe later." Ianto paused to lick the precome from Jack's slit, treasuring the sweet moan Jack gifted him with. "If you're a really good boy." Then he settled the makeshift ring into place.

Jack took a deep breath when Ianto sat back, then he nodded. "I'll do my best, sir." He wrapped his hands around both ropes and held on.

Ianto nodded once and rolled off the bed. He pressed himself against Jack's back once more, slid both arms around him, laid his cheek against Jack's shoulder. He made sure Jack could feel his own erection through the cloth of his suit pants, then stilled himself, breathing slowly and steadily against the little hairs at the back of Jack's neck.

Jack tensed at first, anticipating more, and Ianto waited through that. He wriggled his arse, and Ianto ignored it. Jack sighed, and Ianto just held him gently. After a moment, Jack shifted his weight, leaned back against Ianto, and matched his breathing. Ianto moved just enough to kiss the back of Jack's neck. Jack dropped his head, offering access to more skin. Ianto ignored that, too, returned to waiting, knowing this battle was almost won.

Jack didn't sigh this time. He matched Ianto's breathing, turned his head just a little so he could hear Ianto better. Ianto counted heartbeats, wanting to be sure Jack had the idea. When he got to two hundred, he gave Jack a little squeeze and stepped back. Jack gathered himself, stretching as much as the bondage allowed, but his main concentration - his focus - was on Ianto. Just where he wanted it. Time to continue, then.

Ianto reached around Jack and picked up his belt. Jack's eyes followed his movements, even to looking over his own shoulder to see what Ianto was doing. That twist and strain wasn't good for him. Ianto gave him a frown and Jack dropped his eyes and turned his face back to the bed. Ianto doubled the belt, chose a comfortable grip, then laid his first stripe right across the "N" and "E".

Jack's hands tensed on the rope, but he stood firm. "Thank you, sir. Would you like me to count?"

Ianto grinned. Jack had managed behaving quietly for longer than Ianto'd thought possible already. He hid his reaction in the second stripe. "No, Jack. Just give me your honest reactions."

Jack nodded. "Yes sir." He took the next few stripes fairly easily. Then Ianto placed one low, and Jack jumped. "Oh, yes!"

"Tell me what you're feeling, Jack." Ianto said quietly, then laid the next stripe right on the last.

Jack grunted at the blow. "That stung, sir. But it's warm, good."

"And nicely pink. But I can still read what I wrote." Ianto continued, not wanting to break the rhythm.

"Can't have that, can we?" The sarcasm was so Jack, but definitely not what Ianto wanted. So he halted the spanking, took a half step back.

"What was that, Jack?" Once again, he'd gotten that calm, almost disinterested tone perfectly.

Jack's head and shoulders dropped. "Not behaving, sir. It wasn't respectful at all. I'm sorry, sir."

Ianto took the opportunity to flex his fingers, change his grip on the belt a little. "Let's get something straight right now, Jack. You may have asked for this scene, but it's mine, now. I like you behaving, and I'll reward that with what you want. If I feel the need to punish you, I will find something you won't like - understood?"

"Yes sir." Jack's answer was swift.

Too swift. Jack would likely pull the mouthing off stunt again the next time he wanted a break. The little game with the shirt buttons had been enough. Ianto wasn't playing again. So he tossed the belt onto the bed, then dropped himself into the chair with a sigh.

Jack's attention followed the belt. He tensed at Ianto's sigh, then sagged again in the ropes. "Ah. You weren't kidding when you said you'd played Dom before, were you? Sir."

"No, Jack, I wasn't." Ianto was relieved that Jack didn't try to look over his shoulder at him. Not only would it have been misbehaving, but it would also have let Jack see how closely he was studying him.

Jack considered a moment, then straightened himself. "There's no excuse for my misbehavior, sir. I am sorry, though. I deserve whatever punishment sir deems appropriate."

Ianto smiled at that. "Better." Then he waited, giving Jack time to respond. Giving himself time to enjoy the renewed power rush.

Jack nodded once, relaxed as well as he could. "Sir? Do you still want to know what I'm feeling?"

Ianto grinned, then worked to keep that out of his voice. "So I believe I said, Jack." Ah, he'd done it.

"Worried now, sir. I disappointed you." Jack's voice was not calm.

Ianto decided to push just a little longer, see how Jack handled it. "And you're being punished for it, Jack."

Jack's head very nearly whipped around, but he controlled the impulse to look. "Yes sir. Very effective, sir. I ache for you, your touch, your command."

"And you will for a bit longer." Ianto decided he didn't have to punish himself, though. He'd been doing well. He pulled out the stopwatch, reset it to zero. "Five minutes, Jack. You can behave five minutes, right?"

Jack took a deep breath. "Yes sir."

"Good. Because I'll reset this each time you misbehave." He settled the watch comfortably in his left hand. "Five minutes, Jack, starting now." And he started the timer.

He unbuttoned his trousers and very deliberately yanked the zipper for maximum noise. Jack flinched, apparently realizing what direction his punishment was taking. Ianto took himself out, the touch of his own fingers enough to wring a groan from him. He sprawled in the chair, kept his attention on the bound man before him, and started stroking himself. Jack shifted a little in his ropes each time Ianto moaned, but didn't try to sneak a peek or mouth off. Ianto was sure he'd bitten his lip more than once, though.

At five minutes, Ianto clicked the stopwatch off. But he didn't stop stroking himself. "That was good, Jack. How badly do you want to watch?"

Jack groaned. "Almost as much as I crave your touch, sir."

"Feeling lonely over there, Jack?" Ianto's stroking had slowed - he was too close, now.

"No sir. Just - very well punished, sir." Jack's grip on the ropes shifted uncomfortably.

Ianto's hand stilled as the rush of power swept through him again, heady. He steadied his voice, because Jack needed him to. "And will you disappoint me again tonight, Jack?"

Jack swallowed. "I'll do my best not to, sir."

Ianto smiled, and this time he let that smile into his tone. "Your best is very good, Jack. You may watch, and then we'll continue."

Jack turned eagerly. "Thank you, sir." His smile was sunny.

Ianto slipped the stopwatch back into his pocket and stood so he could remove the rest of his clothing. Then he went back to the bed and spread himself onto it, propping himself with the pillows, enjoying Jack's hungry eyes on him. He took his time finishing the job, holding off as long as he could, crying out with his orgasm then collapsing breathlessly against the bed.

Jack's breathing was ragged, loud. Ianto opened his eyes to drink in the sight of him, hands fisted in the ropes, bottom lip between his teeth, straining to be still and quiet. Ianto caught Jack's eyes, held them as he rolled to his hands and knees, crawled across the bed, knelt close to Jack. He ran one hand up his stomach and chest, capturing as much of his cooling seed as he could. Then he slowly, deliberately, smeared it across Jack's face. Jack closed his eyes, opened his mouth, licked across Ianto's palm. Ianto let him lick his hand clean.

"Ready for the belt again, Jack?" He asked quietly while Jack was still sucking on one clean finger.

Jack moaned and let the finger go. "Yes sir," was all the reply he allowed himself.

"Good boy." Ianto took the belt with him as he rolled off the bed, doubled it on his way back into place, and started in on Jack's pink cheeks without further warning. He didn't prompt Jack again until the red letters started to fade into the general reddening of Jack's arse. By then, Jack was grunting with each blow, jerking in his bondage.

"Tell me, Jack." Ianto let the next blow fall more lightly.

Jack nodded, and seemed to have to gather himself to speak. "Burns, sir. Burns so good. I'm so hard for you it hurts, sir."

Ianto let the belt fall more and more lightly, slower and slower. "Ready to change position?"

Jack shrugged as well as he could. "If that's what you want, sir." He shifted his feet a little. "Not sure I can stand on my own, sir."

"Thank you for the warning, Jack. We'll go slow." Ianto laid one more stripe low on Jack's cheeks and let the belt fall to the floor. Then he knelt and pulled the releases on Jack's ankles. "See if you can get your feet under you, Jack."

Ianto stood and steadied Jack's hips while he struggled to move his feet. It took a few jerky tries before Jack managed to get his feet together. Ianto waited patiently while he did. Then he moved up behind Jack, slipped an arm around his chest, pulled the older man against him. When Jack leaned into him, he reached up and tugged the quick release for one of Jack's wrists, caught that arm, eased it slowly down. Jack hissed at the movement.

"Easy, Jack. Roll your shoulders, that's a good boy." Ianto talked him through the release of his other hand, too, then gave him a push and turn that ensured that Jack landed fairly gracelessly on the his back on the bed.

"You looked really hot spread out on the sheets before, Jack. Can you get there again on your own?"

Jack just nodded and squirmed back into the middle of the bed. Ianto untied the upper ropes and brought them to the head of the bed. Before long, he had Jack's wrists bound - with two more quick release knots - to the head of the bed. He tossed a handful of paper clips and rubber bands onto Jack's chest, then straddled his hips. He collected a couple of paper clips, settled back onto Jack's thighs, and considered the bounty before him.

Ianto played with the paper clips, testing their strength, enjoying how Jack's eyes were riveted on his hands. "How are your shoulders, Jack?"

"Moving loosened them, sir. I'm fine." Jack licked his lips, kept his eyes riveted on Ianto's hands.

Ianto nodded. "Good. These are some pretty strong paper clips, Jack. Not quite clothespins, but they're still going to hurt. Are you ready?"

Jack nodded, then laid his head back against the mattress. "Yes sir."

Ianto leaned down, licked over one of Jack's nipples, then nibbled and sucked until the little nub was hard. It took both hands to snap the paper clip onto Jack's nipple, and the older man jerked at the sensation, but didn't say anything. Ianto did the same for the other nipple, then moved down Jack's legs a little. He did a quick visual check of Jack's groin, noted the red mark where the broken rubber band had popped his cock, and couldn't resist running a finger over it. Jack moaned, closed his eyes, lifted his chin.

Ianto chuckled "So eager, Jack." The bound man under him shivered. "Don't worry, I'll get to the rubber bands you asked for earlier. You won't have to beg for them again."

"Thank you, sir," Jack breathed.

Ianto smiled and spent a moment gently fondling Jack's balls. Then he pinched up a bit of the soft skin of his scrotum and secured a paper clip to it. Jack grunted, but didn't open his eyes or tense otherwise. Ianto added three more paper clips while Jack's breathing got harsher. Then he moved off Jack's legs, spread them wide, and secured his ankles with the ropes he'd left in place.

He crawled back to where he wanted to be - between Jack's knees. On his way to play with the clips on his nipples, Ianto kissed the tip of Jack's cock. Then, because Jack had moaned so deliciously at the small contact, he sucked that hard flesh into his mouth and teased the slit with his tongue. Jack arched into him as well as he could, moaning in what sounded like ecstasy. Ianto chuckled around Jack's cock, reached up, jiggled one of the paper clips. The resulting jerk back and catch of breath proved just how out of control Jack had gotten. Ianto prolonged this torment for a bit, enjoying Jack's increasing discomfort.

"Oh, sir, please," Jack moaned as Ianto twitched each of the paper clips secured to Jack's balls in turn.

Ianto let the sweet flesh pop out of his mouth with a wet noise. "Please what, Jack?"

"More, anything, please sir." Jack panted. "I'm so close, sir. So close."

Ianto smiled, and knew it was evil. "Not yet, Jack. Control yourself."

Jack moaned, long and low, and gulped in air. Very calmly, Ianto selected one of the rubber bands still spread on Jack's stomach and tested it between his fingers. It was strong, which was good. He didn't want this one to break. Jack was working hard on trying to get himself under control but gasped when Ianto grabbed his cock in one fist. Working quickly, Ianto slipped the rubber band into place just under the head, then gave it a twist and doubled it back on itself. He let it snap into place, but not far, and enjoyed Jack's jerk and pained grunt. Liked the reaction so much that he picked another rubber band, and looped it farther down Jack's length, then did it again.

Now there were tears standing in the corners of Jack's closed eyes. Ianto chose another rubber band, kneeling between Jack's thighs. This one he stretched between the first two fingers of his left hand, placed those fingers on Jack's chest, pulled back on the rubber band with his other hand, and let it snap against Jack's skin. Jack cried out. Ianto moved his fingers and repeated the process, making a pattern of little red welts on Jack's chest.

Then he pulled the paper clip from one nipple, and popped that with the rubber band. Jack nearly exploded off the bed with a wide eyed yelp. Only his bondage kept him in place. He whimpered when Ianto paused.

"Please, sir. Please don't stop now." Jack's voice was rough, and his eyes were wild.

For a reply, Ianto pulled the paper clip off Jack's other nipple and popped it, too. Jack jerked just as wildly, and the tears streamed down his cheeks. Ianto's attention turned to Jack's groin. He toyed with one of the paper clips there, watching Jack's reaction. Jack bit his lower lip and nodded, eyes tightly closed. Ianto pulled one paper clip free and popped the rubber band - much more gently - against the tender, sensitized flesh.

Jack jerked, sobbed, nodded again. "Please, sir." It was more moan than words.

Ianto had to pause to adjust himself. Jack giving himself to the pain had him uncomfortably hard again. His lover's tears were a powerful aphrodisiac, too, and Ianto leaned up to lick at them. Jack's eyes flew open, and Ianto's breath caught at the naked devotion he saw there. He kissed Jack's cheek.

"Hold on a little longer, Jack," he whispered against the damp skin. "Just a little more."

"Yes sir. Please," Jack whispered back, between panted breaths.

Ianto nuzzled Jack's cheek before he sat back, pulled the next paper clip free and popped Jack with the rubber band again. Twice more, and the paper clips were all off. Ianto caught the tip of Jack's darkened cock between his two fingers, stretching the rubber band across the slit. Jack trembled, met Ianto's eyes, and nodded again. Ianto lifted the rubber band and let it pop down on that most tender spot. Jack bucked and his breath whooshed out, almost soundlessly.

Ianto dropped the rubber band, leaned down and licked what he'd just hurt. Looking up, he could see Jack's tears falling, see him fighting to breathe. Ianto gave him his sweetest smile. "Such a good boy, Jack. You took that so well." His voice had a purr, now, and Jack reacted with a deep moan and a weak attempt to arch up toward Ianto.

Ianto leaned up again, slid the fingers of one hand under Jack's head, and lifted it into a deep kiss. Jack opened his mouth wide, let Ianto plunder it at will. Ianto gave all his attention to the kiss, caressing the inside of Jack's mouth, enjoying the gentle moans and tentative responses of Jack's tongue on his.

Ianto let Jack's mouth go, lowered his head again while he licked more tears from his cheeks. "I want inside you, Jack." He smiled at Jack's eager nod.

"Yes sir, please." Jack was still panting.

Ianto rolled away from him and off the bed, shushing Jack's moan of protest. Ianto took the lube with him, tugged the ropes to release Jack's feet once again, and crawled between Jack's knees. He pushed one knee aside and pulled the other up over his shoulder. Then he started working Jack open with generously lubed fingers. He was too eager, himself, to draw this out much, but Jack didn't protest when he slid a second finger in, or a third. He didn't even get one when he pulled his hand away, but a quick check caught Jack watching as he spread lube over his own cock.

Ianto had to work hard to enter Jack slowly. He used Jack's expressions as a guide, pushing in as he relaxed, pausing when Jack's brows drew together. Jack, drawing on the reserves of will that always impressed Ianto, lifted his other leg to Ianto's shoulder and pulled him in the last little bit.

They held that closest embrace for a moment, then Ianto reached between them. He caught Jack's eyes and the twisted rubber band cock ring at the same time. Jack groaned, but nodded again.

Ianto grinned, deciding it was time to start giving Jack some of the control back. "Fast or slow, Jack - you pick."

The grin must have been the evil one. Jack shivered and had to catch his breath again to answer. "Fast, please, sir." Ianto nodded, pulled the ring off Jack's cock, then pushed his balls through with his thumb as quickly as he could. Several small hairs pulled out with the ring. Jack jerked with each one, too far gone to fight himself still. Each movement translated to bliss around Ianto's buried cock.

Once he'd caught his own breath again, Ianto tossed the ring toward the chair. He worked the two lower rubber bands off Jack's cock more gently, leaving just the one under the head in place. After that, it was all movement, sensation, the pounding of his flesh into Jack's, his hand on Jack's tormented cock demanding his release. When Ianto couldn't hold out a moment longer, the pulled the remaining rubber band free. Jack orgasmed with a force that drew all his muscles tight, clamping Ianto in a fleeting vice of toned muscle. He moaned helplessly and shot deep into Jack.

Ianto had just enough sense left to roll off Jack before collapsing totally. They panted side by side for a time. Jack, with his amazing stamina, managed to speak first.

"Thank you, Ianto. That was perfect." His voice still sounded shaky.

Ianto made himself roll up onto his elbow so he could see Jack. "You are an absolute mess, Jack."

"I'd offer to go clean up if I could move. Do I still have feet?"

Ianto looked. "Yep." Then he leaned in for a kiss. Jack's return was weary, but enthusiastic. "Stay here. I'll get us something to clean up with."

Jack gave one arm a tug while Ianto got slowly to his feet. "Um, Ianto?"

Ianto turned back to him and grinned. "I didn't say I was done with you yet, did I, Jack?"

Jack groaned and relaxed back into the bed. "No, sir. Sorry, sir." Tired eyes turned to Ianto. "Sir, did I just earn more punishment?"

Ianto gave him a warm smile. "Teasing, Jack. I don't think either of us could take more tonight." He reached over and gave the nearest rope the tug that freed Jack. "Sleeping sounds very good to me."

Jack didn't even try to move yet. "Me too, Yan." And wonder of wonders, the man who rarely slept yawned.

Ianto kept Jack awake long enough for some semblance of aftercare. Cleaned up with supplies from the bathroom, sandwiched between clean sheets and a soft, if somewhat frilly duvet, and having endured a nearly professional massage of his stiff shoulders, Jack had drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep. Ianto finished tucking the toys back in the bag, yawned himself, and slipped in beside Jack.

He wondered very briefly what the others would say if they saw the way Jack snuggled up against him. Then he was asleep.

---

In the very early hours of the morning, Ianto woke beside his Captain in the rumpled bed. He lay perfectly still, knowing that his least movement would wake Jack, and he wanted as long as he could get to study the peaceful, boyish face just inches from his own. There would be time enough to trace the little welts the rubber bands had left on Jack's flesh, stroke a hand over buttocks that would still be a little pink, and drink deep of that kissable mouth again before both of them got back to work. For so few moments he could savor the satisfaction that Jack's deep slumber was his doing. He had done exactly what he'd been asked to do - taken Jack out of himself. But he'd also brought him back, and the more relaxed Jack had rewarded his efforts sweetly. So sweetly that despite the fact that he'd only had a short couple of hours of actual sleep, he himself felt rested and relaxed, ready for whatever the rift threw at them. He hoped Jack felt the same.

Blue eyes opened suddenly, accompanied by a radiant smile that nearly stunned Ianto with its intensity. He opened his mouth for a greeting, but Jack stopped that with a kiss. A kiss that went on until a knock on the wooden door interrupted it.

"Sorry, sirs." Dylan's voice. "Owen says we need you."

"Owen says?" Jack asked in a conversational tone, while he gave Ianto a very rueful smile and rolled to his feet. Ianto got up and went after their clothing.

"Yes sir. Gwen and her fiance have gone missing, sirs."

Art.

Fri, 23 May 2008 08:10:12 GMT

Never tell someone you're a poet. Especially family. At least not when you're feeling vulnerable. "My that's pretty" and "Oh that's nice honey" make me want to scream. To write ugly bad goth dark things from the darkest, dirtiest parts of my warped brain, and stick those in their faces.

Emily Dickens-ish things, only darker.

No, okay, I'm never going to make a living off my poetry - only the rare few do. That's not the point. I'm giving the stuff away, here, after all. Free poetry anyone? Grrr.

Does it really take another poet to understand?

If so, I really need more poets as friends.

*sigh* Not giving up, won't stop writing, not feeling in the least suicidal. Just annoyed at some of the non-supportive people in my life. And myself, for allowing myself to be vulnerable with the wrong people. And maybe for not looking for supportive community sooner.

Inspired by mistress_tien:

Tue, 20 May 2008 23:45:56 GMT

Real real life has frogs.

Tue, 20 May 2008 22:23:23 GMT

Today was a beautiful day, full of sunshine, flowers, ponies and good old down in the dirt work. And kids.

The neighbor came over with his grandson, a cute little blondie about seven years old. They came to show us goldfish they'd gotten at the bait store. And then they wanted to see the ponies (everyone who comes over wants to see the ponies). Grandpa saw how big the baby is - a year old and already as tall as her halflinger momma - but it was blondie who said what I was thinking - four pasture ponies standing in the mud beside the feed trough *stank*. How can you not laugh at that? Then I showed him the bluegill (mosquito larvae control unit) that lives in the stock tank. And it promptly got a goldfish friend. It was lonely, after all! So said blondie, and so I believe, now too.

Fencing came next, since last winter's ice storms had done a number on the electric fence. I was almost amazed at how easy it was to fix, though. Fiberglass step in posts make all the difference - just pull the ones that were broken and replace with new posts, put the wire back in place, and PRESTO!, secondary pasture all ready to go. Power on, one quick test, and the ponies were belly deep in grass.

The baby, of course, went straight for the fence. The first little zap I don't think she even realized came from the little wire she was touching. Why do I say this? Because not more than five minutes later, she ran into, through and over the darn thing. Scared her (and me) silly, and put the line on the ground. Mama, though (bless her, she's the best mama horse I've ever met) just called her back in, and she went - with a little hop over the bitey wire on the ground. She hasn't touched the fence since. And I had time to calmly put it back up, replace another broken post and turn it back on (I'm not masochistic enough to work on the fence while it's hot) while the four equines continued the mowing process. No harm done, really, at all.

Then blondie (and grandpa) came back. This time to show us the frogs they'd collected. Four tree frogs (those are the ones that "peep" around the ponds at twighlight) and one toad (ugly, is all I can say) in a big jar with holes in the lid. Frogs, apparently, are a seriously necessary part of a boy's life. Blondie was very serious about them, anyway. And, I'm told, the goldfish were successfully released in grandpa's pond. Blondie will be watching to see how big they get every time he comes out, now.

The rest of the day was camera time (had to stay out for a few hours and make sure the fence stayed intact, anyway) and musing. Musing about kids, and ponies, and learning. If you've never followed a kid around and just kept your own mouth shut - if you've never really listened to a child - try it some time. They see the details we miss, or gloss over, or tune out as insignificant. Their filters are wide open, and if they think you'll listen, they'll tell you exactly what they think about the world. Ponies do the same with body language, but the excellent thing is that they never get the filters that we do as we get older. After all, goldfish and frogs and stinky horses really *are* significant - they are as real as things come, as down to earth details as the flowers we'd rather focus on or the growth of our assets - whether that's cash or baby horses. Maybe more significant. After all, the frogs are part of the natural ecosystem, a balance for the bugs that would otherwise overproduce and harm their own food source. Part of the whole beautiful picture of life.

Part of the whole without which we could not survive - would not even be here to be writing on this forum.

Just, please, don't kiss the next frog you see, okay? But maybe, if you look around, you might meet one. I saw two today, since I started thinking about it.

Thanks for reading.