The response to this has been fantastic and overwhelming. Seeing as Kryptonite is kicking me in the head at the minute every time I try to write it, I decided to let this bunny take over for now. Thank you so much for your comments, and I hope I can meet your expectations.
Served Cold
Chapter 1
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Jack leaned out over the railing, listening intently to the incessant bustling of the ship. The deck was thronged with people, pushing past one another in a haste to be done with their business. Many of them were dressed in smart evening wear, leading the way to the main ballroom where tonight's dinner was to take place.
Jack wasn't invited to the dinner. He had stowed away in the bowels of the ship, luckily finding himself a spare bed in the steerage section. Even out here, in the depths of space, class and decorum were major dictators.
Wrapping his coat around himself and sighing heavily, he leant further, almost wishing that he could melt through the thick glass embedded into the wall. The stars floated by outside, beauteous and almost sexual. They sang of wonders, of endless time; their endless music never seemed too dull for his ears.
Although, he had to admit, the song now seemed ever so slightly off key.
Shaking his head, he took a step back, surveying the great space before him. All different colours and species, some of them with more limbs than others, some speaking in languages that could only be understood by themselves and their companions. He concentrated his ears, losing himself in the diversity. It was easy to drown in them, and drowning was why he was here.
Suddenly, an arm landed on his; a gentle, allluring touch. He turned, that legendary grin flashing across his face.
"Why, gorgeous, all alone?" the words flowed through the purple lips, a long tongue flicking over the lips, moistening the flesh tantalisingly.
"Some people just can't appreciate a thing of beauty," he grinned, taking a step forwards, bathing in the warm glow that seemed to emit from her reddish scales. The arm moved downwards, that shimmery touch drawing small circles across his wrist and over his pulse.
She sidled closer, pressing the length of her slender body against him, the cold blood coursing through her veins sending a delightful chill into his skin, even through the rough material of his coat.
"And yet, some of us can," again, a hiss, that tongue flicking out to moisten the lips.
"Well then, your taste, ma'am," he lowered his head, almost mockingly, catching hold of her chilled hand and brushing his lips against it. "Is impeccable."
"What can I say, I have always had a good eye," a cold smile, alluring in its iciness. "I know what I like. How may I address you?"
His smile faltered, but only for a second. His grip on her hand intensified, keeping it pressed closely to his face to inhale her futuristic scent.
"I'm nobody," he whispered, cocking his head mischievously "I'm a mystery. But doesn't that just make it more exciting?"
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There was hay beneath him – he wasn't sure weather it was hay; in fact, it was probably some alien plant, some dried, rotting, extra-terrestrial flora. But, for now, he was going to call it hay. It was easier.
Curling in on himself, he wrapped his arms around him for warmth, feeling the cuts littering his body biting into him with each movement. He shuddered, testing the rough leather binding his hands experimentally. Letting his mind wander, imagining the impossibilities screaming from the stars he could see through the window, he wondered whether he could break through, whether he could somehow wriggle free. A few sharp twists told him that that was just a fantasy. A dream as fantastical as all his childhood beliefs in happy endings.
There were footsteps coming towards him, and he flinched again, drawing his tired legs up into a foetal position.
"Oh, so shy?" a sharp kick, delivered to his ribs. He grunted, pursing his lips together in an attempt to still the scream that threatened to break from his lungs. Fingers tangled in his hair, drawing his face level with the leering features of his captor. A tongue was run roughly over the skin of his neck, lapping up the crusting blood from the wounds on his cheek.
His assailant had taken great pleasure in using the wounds that already existed on his body. Piercing once again the faint scar of his appendectomy, pressing hot metal against the remnants of that cigarette burn, drawing his knife slowly over the lingering scar on the side of his face.
Reopening old wounds, the madman had joked.
He squirmed away, wriggling like a snake, determined to show defiance in the face of this pain. He was beaten, but he was not going to crumple. It was pathetic, he knew, but as he heard the scraping of cold steel sharpening against the rocks of the wall, he reached out with his mind.
Jack…
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Jack flopped back onto the bed, gasping as the last remnants of cold tentacles flickered along his cooling skin. He could feel the burn through his body, that blessed release shooting through every muscle. Stretching out and wrapping his arm around the waist of his red-skinned companion, he let a small chuckle escape his swollen lips.
"Oh, baby, you are good."
Slithering fingers tapped out a beat on the muscles of his stomach, drawing icy lines across his pectorals and abdomen.
"I have been told," she drawled lazily, tail flicking out from behind her to catch him lightly across the thigh. He shifted at the impact, huffing out a laugh and letting her flip him onto his back. The laugh pushed out of him with more forced as she straddled him, holding him down with her purple-flecked tail.
"You want more?"
"I want everything," she hissed, running that long tongue down from his ear. He moaned as it travelled downwards, swirling around his right nipple. His arousal began to grow, pulse heightening as her strong nails scratched down, down, there.
You can have me, have everything. I don't want it anymore.
Suddenly, just as that tongue flicked close to its goal, he felt his wrist strap buzzing. Instinctively, he turned his head, focusing on the shaking material of the technology calling to him.
Her head shot up from his groin, reaching up to pin his wrist to the bed before he could investigate the buzzing.
"Leave it," she growled, circling that long, pink muscles around the base of his cock, sending a burst of pleasure and sweet, sweet oblivion shocking through his mind. He jerked against her, reaching down with his free hand to grip at her hair, forcing those lips around the head of his erection.
She complied, her breath huffing against the wet flesh. He lost himself in the wonder of the sensation, of that tail flicking itself over his entrance, nudging inside, of that tongue committing sins of a devilish nature against his throbbing flesh. For a few wonderful moments, he closed his eyes and forgot who he was. By the time she had done with him, he could barely remember his own name.
Although, of course, he'd forgotten that a long time ago.
Coming down slowly from the waves of his orgasm, he lay back, sinking into the soft material of the bed sheets. His companion swallowed, releasing his now limp cock from her lips and sidling up beside him, gently drawing small circles onto the flesh of his thigh with her flexible tail. He sighed deeply, putting out an arm to rest beside his head as he licked his lips.
"Well…" he let a laugh escape from between his teeth once again. "That was…"
"Intriguing," that tongue flicked out, punctuating the words. "Enticing. Glorious."
"I guess that's better than what I had in mind, so we'll go with that."
His bed mate grinned wickedly, releasing his wrist from her grasp. Cocking her head suddenly, she focused her gaze on the wrist strap, noting that the gentle buzzing had failed to cease in its movements.
"Someone is trying to contact you," her head twitched, fingers gripping his wrist to examine the device. "This technology, it is calling to you."
Jack snatched his hand back, cradling it against his chest. The last thing he wanted to do now was think about the fact that someone was reaching out to him, that someone, maybe someone from his past (he shuddered, pushing the painful memories aside) was trying to talk to him. He didn't want to interrupt the heady, numb feeling spreading delightfully through his body. He just didn't want to feel anymore, goddamit.
He wasn't ready to think. All he wanted to do was forget.
"They can wait," he snapped, fiddling with buttons and turning the infernal thing off. "I have all the time in the world, after all."
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One hundred thousand earth miles away, Ianto Jones finally screamed.
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TBC...
