Title: Naughty pictures

Fandom: Torchwood/NCIS

Characters/pairing: Captain Jack Harkness/OMC, Abigail Scuito.

Rating: NC17 for smut.

Word count: 890

Summary: As an investigation takes him to New Orleans, Captain Jack Harkness crosses path with a local, the inimitable Abigail Sciuto.

Author's note: written for 30_interdits' challenge, prompt being photo & voyeurism, Jack pairing with any character, with NC-17 as minimum rating.

Beta: imzadimylove

…

New Orleans, summer 2003.

Abby came to this party to take pictures, and she'd already taken dozens. One of the advantages of digital technology was that there was no point in counting, you could do one shot after the other and sort them later. A New Orleans' party, what better playground could she dream of? What greater choice of subjects? Because Abby loved to photograph people, people in their originality, in their uniqueness.

And as a matter of fact, that guy was one of a kind. To start with, and not to spoil anything, he was rather handsome, even if to Abby's eyes this was far from being a factor of interest in itself. His attire, on the other hand was much more incongruous: despite the tropical moisture, the man seemed determined to keep on the heavy woollen coat he wore.

It was an army greatcoat, a genuine antique, as worn by British officers during the war. The rest of his clothes probably dated from the same era. However they looked new and spotless, all the more surprising when taking into account that most of the other guests were streaming with sweat while being much more lightly clad.

He was sat at the bar, flirting with the bartender while downing glass after glass of water. But his mischievous eyes were constantly sweeping the room with definite interest. On several occasions they'd landed on Abby, and they'd exchanged smiles with a strange complicity charge. When she, with a simple gesture, silently asked for permission to take a picture she'd been rewarded with a beguiling smile as he quietly acquiesced.

But that was earlier in the evening.

Since then, she'd changed subjects more than once, although she couldn't help coming back to him like a moth drawn to a flame. The camera loved him. The bartender took a break, and the Captain - at least according to his coat's stripes - plastered on a smile that would turn on a saint. She snapped a picture and he noticed. He didn't take offense, and even seemed to find it fun. As the bartender walked around from behind the counter, the Captain discreetly beckoned Abby to follow. She didn't waste time pondering. She followed at a distance, wondering if the bartender knew.

The garden of the residence, with its dense and tropical vegetation, offered numerous dark corners, for one night's lovers. The Captain chose a secluded one well lit by the pale full moon which enhanced the whiteness of his skin against the darker skin of the young bartender's; the coat had quickly land on the ground without any care.

She snapped pictures from the first tentative kisses, faltering hands just feeling new unknown territory while discarding clothes frantically. The Captain, shirt wide open, braces hanging on each side along a three-quarter down trouser, had let the bartender take the lead. Backed against a large mangrove tree, his head thrown back, he gave himself fully to the ravenous mouth of his one night stand. He looked beautifully debauched and strangely sensual, causing a sudden and violent desire in the young apprentice voyeur's belly.

She was glad she had invested in a high capacity memory card, and had fully emptied it before coming to this party. Having finished with the Captain and being satisfied that at least for a while he would be unable to impose his will, the young barman made him turn around. The Captain immediately leaned against the tree without protest. His too long shirt was spoiling a little of Abby's view. Anyway, his partner quickly positioned himself against his back to undo a cufflink, then seized his right wrist and pulled it off of the trunk, then twisted the arm into the hollow of the Captain's back to remove it from the shirt, and then he replaced the Captain's hand on the tree only to repeat the manoeuvre with the other hand. The young Creole performed this routine with slow methodical movements, keeping his willing victim firmly pressed against him in some possessive and sensual manner.

Abby continued photographing the couple until the bartender was finally satisfied, and returned to take his place behind the bar, leaving a half naked Captain behind him. The latter had left himself slide to the ground next to his coat and didn't seem to feel any urge to get dressed.

"Did you enjoy yourself?" he asked.

Abby silently walked out of cover. On the man's face there was no shame and no embarrassment to be seen, just blue eyes full of mist tinged with mischievous impertinence: it was very unsettling.

"You knew I was there," she replied defensively.

"I would have been disappointed if you'd declined my invitation," he joked, showing a wide smile before asking for a hand up.

She helped him up and he got on with shamelessly rearranging his attire in front of her.

"Would you like to have a look at them, with me?" she was surprised to propose.

"In fact I would love that?" he replied with a grin. "Miss?"

"Abby, Abigail, and you're Captain-"

"Captain Jack Harkness," he replied, offering her his arm. "Yours? Or mine?"

~ End, or not, who knows? ~