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Wicked Game

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Summary: Jack thinks Spike’s sudden ability to remain still is impossible. Cpt Jack/Spike *BDSM*

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Dr. Who/Torchwood > Spike-CenteredAzureChaosFR2118210377530 Jun 0830 Jun 08Yes

NOTE: This story is rated FR21 which is above your chosen filter level. You can set your preferred maximum rating using the drop-down list in the top right corner of every page.

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Warnings: Bondage, BDSM, Toys, Object Penetration (Toys - not worn under clothes) & Fucking Machines
Disclaimer I don't own the characters or ideas behind BtVS, Angel or Torchwood, no money has or will be made from this fic.

A/N: Written for my card: Object Penetration (Toys - not worn under clothes) & Fucking Machines. One Shot – Stand alone. 778 wds.



Wicked Game


The blindfold covered his eyes, the ropes held him securely in place. All in all Jack didn’t know what to expect. His lover was evil…well, not evil in the soulless wanting to send the world into the pit of hell type evil, but still: evil enough! He moaned as the one finger in his ass was quickly added to. Two fingers still wouldn’t meet with much resistance. It wasn’t that Captain Jack Harkness was a slut… OK, well, it was that he was a slut, but that was as much a technicality as the evil thing.

He’d lost track of time: how long had passed since he’d been tied up on his hands and knees like that? There was softness beneath them, as well as a curiously padded ledge that his stomach rested on. He let his head hang, trying to stop himself from tensing up from impatience. His lover had worked hard at turning him to a puddle of relaxed Jack.

The fingers became a solid object. It wasn’t completely unyielding, but was just enough so that he could tell the soft squidgy feel around it wasn’t flesh. His best guess was a silicone covered dildo, or maybe a vibe. He had no objection to toys at all. Hell, with a lover like Spike, it wasn’t like he really could afford to have a problem with them. Jack’s money was on the vibe considering his current predicament. And after all, the vampire did love to drive him wild.

He groaned as it pushed in; slow but unrelenting; and then pulled out equally as slow. It was a maddening pace and he longed to be able to rock back on it, but the straps held him far too secure. The bondage had started because of his inability to hold still but it wasn’t usually quite so restrictive. Spike was steady in that rhythm to the point of frustration.

Jack groaned. “Sir, please…more?”

There was no verbal reply and the pace didn’t increase. He turned his head slightly, looking back over his shoulder sightlessly. There was no response. One of the worst things about having a vampire for a lover was the fact they didn’t need to breath. It meant he lost his one constant clue as to the position of other people in relation to himself. It was also why the bleach-blond could always sneak up on him.

In… and… out.

In… and… out.

In… and… out.

Never a falter or hitch in the pace or depth. Jack knew that Spike could concentrate when he put his mind to it but surely this was more impossibly consistent than he could manage?

He was aching with need: his cock was encased in a leather and buckle gates of hell and he worried that it was either such a deep purple it was going to explode or his balls were so blue they would drop off. He reassessed the evil comment…what did a soul mean anyway?

“Sir, please?” he all but whined in need.

Apparently it fell on deaf ears. He couldn’t think straight to process the information. The steady slide of both in stroke and out was so consistently accurate and so good at hitting all the right places: just enough but never quite enough. Jack tried to shift to meet the invader as it thrust in; only to be reminded once again that he couldn’t.

In… and… out.

In… and… out.

In… and… out.

Time ceased to have meaning a long time ago. He was tempted to count the strokes but quickly was distracted by the sensation. Jack started to relax into the rhythm, feeling it lulling him into a deeper state of brainlessness.

There was a click and then suddenly the dildo was thrusting in deeper and harder. And with it, he became aware of a noise. Fuck, it was a machine!

In!

Out!

In!

Out!

In!

Out!

Jack thought he might actually start to cry with need. Or else yell something at Spike that he’d regret. After all, his lover was the one holding the controls right now. He tried to pretend that he hated it, which in a way he did. The head of Torchwood couldn’t help it: he loved it and had to admit that Spike was a damned genius.

His cock flexed and pulsed with blood as he moaned deeply and let the machine do its worst. It was a rush to know that he really was that powerless and that Spike could keep him there like that for as long as he wanted: needy and panting. And if he was walking funny the next day: all the better to traumatise Gwen with!

~fin~

The End

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