![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
The Hogwarts Reunion Is When Everything Changes (2/6)
Back to Part One.
Jack hated secrets. Part of that was because of the distrust they implied, especially when they involved members of his team. Still, he could forgive. He had secrets of his own (that whole immortality thing was just the tip of the iceberg) and keeping them didn't mean he didn't trust the people around him. Not necessarily.
No, right now he hated this particular secret because it was one more thing he didn't know about Ianto Jones. A simple enough man, he'd assumed when he hired him. Persistent for sure, good in a crisis, looked damn good in a suit. It was only later that he'd discovered the enigma behind that polished façade, one who had the nerve (and the brains, Jack had to give him that) to smuggle his cyber-girlfriend into the Hub. After that, realising how little he really knew, Jack had made a concerted effort to uncover the office teaboy's secrets. He'd thought it was working; Ianto was certainly opening up to the team and even responding to his flirtatious advances (and Jack was very eager to see where those went). But then, he had unexpectedly requested time off (Ianto never took time off) and sidestepped every question about his plans.
Which is why Jack found himself in the Scottish highlands, in a sleepy little burg that didn't even warrant a speck on the map. "Hogsmeade," the sign said—not even a "welcome to," just the simple declaration of its existence. As short and to the point as the layout of the town, with its basic grocery-cum-post office and dingy pub (every town's got one, Jack thought). In the centre were the derelict remains of a train station that suggested Hogsmeade might once have been more. It sure wasn't now. If the tracker he'd hidden in Ianto's car hadn't led him here, Jack would have driven straight through.
The tracker must have been on the fritz, though, because it kept insisting that Ianto's blue Opal should be right here, right on this desolate road beside these dilapidated train tracks, right in the shadow of this craggy mountain where no one in their right mind would choose to live.
But Jack had come this far and he'd be crazy not to check it out. He locked the Range Rover (probably an unnecessary precaution in this one-horse town, but the memory of Brecon Beacons was still fresh) and headed to the pub. It turned out to be nothing special, just a small bar, a few chipboard tables, a dartboard dangerously close to the door. Not that there was any danger at the moment. The pub's only patron was leaving as Jack entered. The old fellow didn't reply to Jack's greeting; with his requisite tweed cap tugged low over his eyes, even his suspicious glance was economical. Jack let him pass, then made his way to one of the barstools, hoping for more luck with liquor-loosened tongues.
"Sure gets thirsty on the road. Any chance of a lager?"
The bartender, seemingly disgruntled about the chore of pulling a pint, handed it over wordlessly. No mention of the American accent, which almost inspired Jack to lay it on thick with talk of Brigadoon, but he knew better than to annoy the only bartender in town. He asked a few questions until he was certain he'd get no answer, then sipped his beer and waited for a friendlier face to cross the threshold.
After fifteen minutes Jack would have been eager to talk to anyone, friendly or not, but he thanked his lucky stars when the door swung wide and an unbelievably attractive man entered. Already tall and lean, he wore an expensive charcoal suit, tailored to accentuate a perfectly tapered frame. The dark colour of the cloth made his hair and skin look impossibly fair, Jack thought admiringly. He flashed his most charming grin.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
With eyes unnaturally light the man looked every bit as forbidding as Hogmeade's other inhabitants, but he seemed to relax at Jack's smile. "Thank you." He turned to the barkeep. "Whisky, straight."
Jack must have missed something, because suddenly the bartender's displeasure shifted into outright animosity. Instead of shrinking back, however, the man stood straighter. Jack was impressed and offered his hand.
"Jack Harkness, at your service."
"Draco Malfoy. You're American, I presume?" His accent was posh, the vowels lazy and slow to leave his titled tongue, but Jack also recognised the slight nasal crush of his supposed homeland.
"Good ear, but I'm in Cardiff now. And is that a hint of an American accent I hear from you?"
"Canadian. I've been in Montréal for ten years."
He drank his single malt like it was worth coming back for, leaving Jack to admire the skip in his Adam's apple when he swallowed. "Never tastes as good as it does up here, does it?"
The whisky glistened on lips curling gradually into a smile. "It really doesn't. I always forget that." He set his glass down precisely, right in the juncture of the imitation wood grain, and studied Jack with those unearthly eyes. "You're a long way from home, Jack. Out sightseeing?"
"Not exactly. Although if I was, I'd have to say the sights improved as soon as you walked in." A disgustingly cheesy line, Ianto's eyes would be rolling right out of his head, but Jack wasn't above crude flirtation if it lowered someone's guard. The sight of flushed pink skin rising above a jade Hermès tie was an added bonus. "No, I'm actually looking for someone. He's supposed to be here, but he … well, it's like he's disappeared."
Jack expected a sympathetic frown or even a look of curiosity. Draco's amused expression surprised him. "And who is this you're looking for?"
"A co-worker from Cardiff. Name's Ianto Jones."
Draco nodded, but there was a smugness in his smile that told Jack he knew more. And that he wouldn't volunteer the information. Jack cleared his throat. "So what about you? Can't imagine you'd lack for travelling companions."
"My friends will arrive later. In the meantime I'm … slumming." His gaze darted to the bartender, his furtive glance somehow managing to condescend.
"Well that's fortunate." Slowly Jack licked his bottom lip, waiting until Draco's eye was fixed on it. "I've always been an expert slummer. Maybe we should swap techniques."
With a not-so-subtle wink, Jack slid from the barstool and sauntered to the men's room. He hung his long coat and took the opportunity to piss while he waited, certain that he had a few moments before Draco bit. "Not 'til I bite first," Jack chuckled to himself, and Ianto would have groaned at that one, too. Where was he, anyway? Draco knew something, of that he was sure. Jack would loosen him up and then find out what he was hiding.
Draco arrived a moment later, after Jack had ensconced himself in one of the stalls, small but serviceable, and was already leering at the thought of blue-blooded lips stretched around his dick. Draco moved towards Jack so gracefully it seemed his feet didn't touch the dingy tile floor. As soon as he was within reach Jack pulled him forward. With a few stone on the slim man, Jack pressed him against the flimsy wall divider.
What happened next he couldn't quite explain.
Draco muttered something indecipherable and suddenly Jack felt helium-balloon light. The other man levered his lean frame and in an instant their places were reversed. Hands were loosening Jack's belt, unzipping his fly, sliding down his trousers … but they were on his shoulders too, holding him in place. Jack knew that couldn't be, and somewhere there was a fleeting thought that he should question it, but his brain was fuzzy. He couldn't focus on nothing apart from his erection squeezed by slick digits, from the perfect friction and the … god how could it feel like suction from just a hand? Jack pried a reluctant eye open to stare down, and yes, it was truly Draco's hand, those long Patrician fingers looking far too cultured to be wrapped around Jack's crude width. The thought excited him; blood rushed to his cock, swelling it even more.
"That's right," Draco murmured, and Jack could only moan his agreement. This did feel right, even when Draco spun him around like a rag doll. One hand still stroked him, the other slipped between his sweaty cheeks, exploring along his crease to the bull's-eye. Slick fingers popped inside his tight ring, opening Jack with a burning that made him press back to draw Draco deeper. More fingers stretched him wider, his resistance shredding with blinding flares of pleasure. He couldn't remember when last he'd felt such an overwhelming rush of sexual energy, when his knees had quivered so and he'd relied on the body joined with his to keep him from falling. One thing he knew was that it had never happened in a bathroom stall with his face pressed against a cinderblock wall and trousers hobbling his ankles.
Somewhere between a plea and a demand he whispered "more" and then as an afterthought, remembering where he was, "condom?"
"Something better. You're safe," promised Draco, giving Jack's cock one last reassuring squeeze. And as he said the words, Jack was sure he would be. He inched his legs wider, arching his back and displaying his bottom, peacock proud, but even as the blunt head of Draco's cock slid along the crack still the man asked. "Is this what you want?"
A ridiculous question. Couldn't he tell that Jack's every nerve was primed for entry? "Yeah, god, yes, just do it." The next thing that left his lips was a long hiss. It'd been ages since Jack had been in this position, time enough to forget that it always hurt, this reshaping of his body to accommodate another's. But Draco was infinitely patient. His elegant fingers rubbed soothing circles around Jack's nipple, slowly pebbling it to hardness, giving it a firm tweak when he slid that final inch inside.
"So good," Draco whispered, and it was. But Jack knew it could be immensely better if the man would just move. To prove his point he flattened himself against the wall. The front of his body felt freezing cold, all save his nipple that throbbed from another brutal pinch, and his dick, now a blade hot enough to slice through the brick like it was made of wax. Draco, unsheathed, now re-entered, as slowly as before but this time pressed flush against Jack's back. His admonishment soaked like silken lotion into Jack's skin. "You're an impatient man, Captain Harkness. You'll never find your friend if you don't slow down."
"Ianto," he croaked, a slow withdrawal choking his thoughts. "You know where Ianto is?"
"I do."
Hips slapped forward, Draco indulging him with a slow, rippling rhythm. Jack's body and mind warred, his curiosity struggling to stay afloat on the swelling waves of pleasure.
"Tell me." A faster rhythm was Draco's only response. "Tell me," Jack insisted louder. Now a hand slid around to circle his erection.
"Shhh … he's fine. He's at his class reunion." An amused puff of breath tickled Jack's nape. "Nothing safer than that, right?"
"Reunion?"
A tight warning fist clenched around Jack's cock. "Yes, Jones is at this moment catching up on a decade of what passes for excitement to a Ravenclaw. Meanwhile, you're taking it up the arse. Which would you really rather focus on right now?"
Draco's hips ground hard, Jack landing flush against the wall. "You have a point."
"Glad you agree. Now if you're quite finished…"
Not waiting for an answer, his free arm slipped around Jack's waist, yanking Jack roughly onto his cock, ploughing him deeper than before. The walls echoed with the slap of flesh against flesh, with the squelch of each piercing thrust. Jack felt weightless again, pinioned on pistoning hips. Fierce, violent, and so satisfying, eliciting a groan so loud that Jack was sure it must have shaken the bottles in the bar. Jack didn't care, he was too far gone. Pleasure spiked through him with each thrust, sensations seeping through his spongy insides to his hungry bowels. It surged into his curling toes and straining calves, into his shoulders strung tight as wire, into the treacherous black space behind his eyeballs.
Sensing the unstoppable, Draco's hand sped up. So close, so damn close. Prying his eyes open Jack looked down. That was all it took. One second of white fingers flying over lurid purple flesh, then an explosion of pinpoint stars. Brightness becoming brighter he whited out, lost to sensations so intense they felt almost excruciating. Vaguely he felt a body collapse, simply a warm weight pressing against his back as agonising relief gushed through every cell.
Awareness returned slow, and only after Draco had pulled away. Jack shook his head; it hadn't been that long since his last hook-up, but this … this had really been something. He tore a strip of bog roll and turned, ready to offer the roll to Draco, surprised to find the man already fastening unsullied trousers. Jack shook his head again; he must be more sluggish than he thought.
His mind crept back to the question still nagging. "So now will you tell me where Ianto is?"
"No," Draco replied smugly, appraising himself in the cracked mirror. "But I just might tell him you're looking for him."
Jack grit his teeth, flustered but trying his best not to show it. "Where is Ianto?"
"Right now? Probably in the library, knee-deep in nostalgia. Actually, it's time for me to trudge through those old memories myself." He didn't bother to repress his shudder, but then smiled enticingly. "I appreciate the distraction from the dreadful evening ahead."
Not waiting for Jack to respond, he flung the door wide. Jack followed an instant later, but Draco had already disappeared.
*****
*****
On to Part Three
Jack hated secrets. Part of that was because of the distrust they implied, especially when they involved members of his team. Still, he could forgive. He had secrets of his own (that whole immortality thing was just the tip of the iceberg) and keeping them didn't mean he didn't trust the people around him. Not necessarily.
No, right now he hated this particular secret because it was one more thing he didn't know about Ianto Jones. A simple enough man, he'd assumed when he hired him. Persistent for sure, good in a crisis, looked damn good in a suit. It was only later that he'd discovered the enigma behind that polished façade, one who had the nerve (and the brains, Jack had to give him that) to smuggle his cyber-girlfriend into the Hub. After that, realising how little he really knew, Jack had made a concerted effort to uncover the office teaboy's secrets. He'd thought it was working; Ianto was certainly opening up to the team and even responding to his flirtatious advances (and Jack was very eager to see where those went). But then, he had unexpectedly requested time off (Ianto never took time off) and sidestepped every question about his plans.
Which is why Jack found himself in the Scottish highlands, in a sleepy little burg that didn't even warrant a speck on the map. "Hogsmeade," the sign said—not even a "welcome to," just the simple declaration of its existence. As short and to the point as the layout of the town, with its basic grocery-cum-post office and dingy pub (every town's got one, Jack thought). In the centre were the derelict remains of a train station that suggested Hogsmeade might once have been more. It sure wasn't now. If the tracker he'd hidden in Ianto's car hadn't led him here, Jack would have driven straight through.
The tracker must have been on the fritz, though, because it kept insisting that Ianto's blue Opal should be right here, right on this desolate road beside these dilapidated train tracks, right in the shadow of this craggy mountain where no one in their right mind would choose to live.
But Jack had come this far and he'd be crazy not to check it out. He locked the Range Rover (probably an unnecessary precaution in this one-horse town, but the memory of Brecon Beacons was still fresh) and headed to the pub. It turned out to be nothing special, just a small bar, a few chipboard tables, a dartboard dangerously close to the door. Not that there was any danger at the moment. The pub's only patron was leaving as Jack entered. The old fellow didn't reply to Jack's greeting; with his requisite tweed cap tugged low over his eyes, even his suspicious glance was economical. Jack let him pass, then made his way to one of the barstools, hoping for more luck with liquor-loosened tongues.
"Sure gets thirsty on the road. Any chance of a lager?"
The bartender, seemingly disgruntled about the chore of pulling a pint, handed it over wordlessly. No mention of the American accent, which almost inspired Jack to lay it on thick with talk of Brigadoon, but he knew better than to annoy the only bartender in town. He asked a few questions until he was certain he'd get no answer, then sipped his beer and waited for a friendlier face to cross the threshold.
After fifteen minutes Jack would have been eager to talk to anyone, friendly or not, but he thanked his lucky stars when the door swung wide and an unbelievably attractive man entered. Already tall and lean, he wore an expensive charcoal suit, tailored to accentuate a perfectly tapered frame. The dark colour of the cloth made his hair and skin look impossibly fair, Jack thought admiringly. He flashed his most charming grin.
"Can I buy you a drink?"
With eyes unnaturally light the man looked every bit as forbidding as Hogmeade's other inhabitants, but he seemed to relax at Jack's smile. "Thank you." He turned to the barkeep. "Whisky, straight."
Jack must have missed something, because suddenly the bartender's displeasure shifted into outright animosity. Instead of shrinking back, however, the man stood straighter. Jack was impressed and offered his hand.
"Jack Harkness, at your service."
"Draco Malfoy. You're American, I presume?" His accent was posh, the vowels lazy and slow to leave his titled tongue, but Jack also recognised the slight nasal crush of his supposed homeland.
"Good ear, but I'm in Cardiff now. And is that a hint of an American accent I hear from you?"
"Canadian. I've been in Montréal for ten years."
He drank his single malt like it was worth coming back for, leaving Jack to admire the skip in his Adam's apple when he swallowed. "Never tastes as good as it does up here, does it?"
The whisky glistened on lips curling gradually into a smile. "It really doesn't. I always forget that." He set his glass down precisely, right in the juncture of the imitation wood grain, and studied Jack with those unearthly eyes. "You're a long way from home, Jack. Out sightseeing?"
"Not exactly. Although if I was, I'd have to say the sights improved as soon as you walked in." A disgustingly cheesy line, Ianto's eyes would be rolling right out of his head, but Jack wasn't above crude flirtation if it lowered someone's guard. The sight of flushed pink skin rising above a jade Hermès tie was an added bonus. "No, I'm actually looking for someone. He's supposed to be here, but he … well, it's like he's disappeared."
Jack expected a sympathetic frown or even a look of curiosity. Draco's amused expression surprised him. "And who is this you're looking for?"
"A co-worker from Cardiff. Name's Ianto Jones."
Draco nodded, but there was a smugness in his smile that told Jack he knew more. And that he wouldn't volunteer the information. Jack cleared his throat. "So what about you? Can't imagine you'd lack for travelling companions."
"My friends will arrive later. In the meantime I'm … slumming." His gaze darted to the bartender, his furtive glance somehow managing to condescend.
"Well that's fortunate." Slowly Jack licked his bottom lip, waiting until Draco's eye was fixed on it. "I've always been an expert slummer. Maybe we should swap techniques."
With a not-so-subtle wink, Jack slid from the barstool and sauntered to the men's room. He hung his long coat and took the opportunity to piss while he waited, certain that he had a few moments before Draco bit. "Not 'til I bite first," Jack chuckled to himself, and Ianto would have groaned at that one, too. Where was he, anyway? Draco knew something, of that he was sure. Jack would loosen him up and then find out what he was hiding.
Draco arrived a moment later, after Jack had ensconced himself in one of the stalls, small but serviceable, and was already leering at the thought of blue-blooded lips stretched around his dick. Draco moved towards Jack so gracefully it seemed his feet didn't touch the dingy tile floor. As soon as he was within reach Jack pulled him forward. With a few stone on the slim man, Jack pressed him against the flimsy wall divider.
What happened next he couldn't quite explain.
Draco muttered something indecipherable and suddenly Jack felt helium-balloon light. The other man levered his lean frame and in an instant their places were reversed. Hands were loosening Jack's belt, unzipping his fly, sliding down his trousers … but they were on his shoulders too, holding him in place. Jack knew that couldn't be, and somewhere there was a fleeting thought that he should question it, but his brain was fuzzy. He couldn't focus on nothing apart from his erection squeezed by slick digits, from the perfect friction and the … god how could it feel like suction from just a hand? Jack pried a reluctant eye open to stare down, and yes, it was truly Draco's hand, those long Patrician fingers looking far too cultured to be wrapped around Jack's crude width. The thought excited him; blood rushed to his cock, swelling it even more.
"That's right," Draco murmured, and Jack could only moan his agreement. This did feel right, even when Draco spun him around like a rag doll. One hand still stroked him, the other slipped between his sweaty cheeks, exploring along his crease to the bull's-eye. Slick fingers popped inside his tight ring, opening Jack with a burning that made him press back to draw Draco deeper. More fingers stretched him wider, his resistance shredding with blinding flares of pleasure. He couldn't remember when last he'd felt such an overwhelming rush of sexual energy, when his knees had quivered so and he'd relied on the body joined with his to keep him from falling. One thing he knew was that it had never happened in a bathroom stall with his face pressed against a cinderblock wall and trousers hobbling his ankles.
Somewhere between a plea and a demand he whispered "more" and then as an afterthought, remembering where he was, "condom?"
"Something better. You're safe," promised Draco, giving Jack's cock one last reassuring squeeze. And as he said the words, Jack was sure he would be. He inched his legs wider, arching his back and displaying his bottom, peacock proud, but even as the blunt head of Draco's cock slid along the crack still the man asked. "Is this what you want?"
A ridiculous question. Couldn't he tell that Jack's every nerve was primed for entry? "Yeah, god, yes, just do it." The next thing that left his lips was a long hiss. It'd been ages since Jack had been in this position, time enough to forget that it always hurt, this reshaping of his body to accommodate another's. But Draco was infinitely patient. His elegant fingers rubbed soothing circles around Jack's nipple, slowly pebbling it to hardness, giving it a firm tweak when he slid that final inch inside.
"So good," Draco whispered, and it was. But Jack knew it could be immensely better if the man would just move. To prove his point he flattened himself against the wall. The front of his body felt freezing cold, all save his nipple that throbbed from another brutal pinch, and his dick, now a blade hot enough to slice through the brick like it was made of wax. Draco, unsheathed, now re-entered, as slowly as before but this time pressed flush against Jack's back. His admonishment soaked like silken lotion into Jack's skin. "You're an impatient man, Captain Harkness. You'll never find your friend if you don't slow down."
"Ianto," he croaked, a slow withdrawal choking his thoughts. "You know where Ianto is?"
"I do."
Hips slapped forward, Draco indulging him with a slow, rippling rhythm. Jack's body and mind warred, his curiosity struggling to stay afloat on the swelling waves of pleasure.
"Tell me." A faster rhythm was Draco's only response. "Tell me," Jack insisted louder. Now a hand slid around to circle his erection.
"Shhh … he's fine. He's at his class reunion." An amused puff of breath tickled Jack's nape. "Nothing safer than that, right?"
"Reunion?"
A tight warning fist clenched around Jack's cock. "Yes, Jones is at this moment catching up on a decade of what passes for excitement to a Ravenclaw. Meanwhile, you're taking it up the arse. Which would you really rather focus on right now?"
Draco's hips ground hard, Jack landing flush against the wall. "You have a point."
"Glad you agree. Now if you're quite finished…"
Not waiting for an answer, his free arm slipped around Jack's waist, yanking Jack roughly onto his cock, ploughing him deeper than before. The walls echoed with the slap of flesh against flesh, with the squelch of each piercing thrust. Jack felt weightless again, pinioned on pistoning hips. Fierce, violent, and so satisfying, eliciting a groan so loud that Jack was sure it must have shaken the bottles in the bar. Jack didn't care, he was too far gone. Pleasure spiked through him with each thrust, sensations seeping through his spongy insides to his hungry bowels. It surged into his curling toes and straining calves, into his shoulders strung tight as wire, into the treacherous black space behind his eyeballs.
Sensing the unstoppable, Draco's hand sped up. So close, so damn close. Prying his eyes open Jack looked down. That was all it took. One second of white fingers flying over lurid purple flesh, then an explosion of pinpoint stars. Brightness becoming brighter he whited out, lost to sensations so intense they felt almost excruciating. Vaguely he felt a body collapse, simply a warm weight pressing against his back as agonising relief gushed through every cell.
Awareness returned slow, and only after Draco had pulled away. Jack shook his head; it hadn't been that long since his last hook-up, but this … this had really been something. He tore a strip of bog roll and turned, ready to offer the roll to Draco, surprised to find the man already fastening unsullied trousers. Jack shook his head again; he must be more sluggish than he thought.
His mind crept back to the question still nagging. "So now will you tell me where Ianto is?"
"No," Draco replied smugly, appraising himself in the cracked mirror. "But I just might tell him you're looking for him."
Jack grit his teeth, flustered but trying his best not to show it. "Where is Ianto?"
"Right now? Probably in the library, knee-deep in nostalgia. Actually, it's time for me to trudge through those old memories myself." He didn't bother to repress his shudder, but then smiled enticingly. "I appreciate the distraction from the dreadful evening ahead."
Not waiting for Jack to respond, he flung the door wide. Jack followed an instant later, but Draco had already disappeared.
*****
On to Part Three
no subject
(Anonymous) 2008-05-30 10:24 am (UTC)(link)no subject
no subject
(Anonymous) 2008-05-30 10:32 am (UTC)(link)-thirstyrobot
no subject
Only 4 more parts, but plenty of smut!
no subject
This was great. Jack and Draco! I like seeing Draco take charge - I was sure that Jack was going to be in control, but Draco just over-powered him with his gorgeous sexiness. I am Very Fond of Dominant!Draco. (Actually, I'm just mad for Draco, but hey, who's checking?) I rather think Ravenclaw!Ianto may be the way forward, too... Anyway, well-written, beautifully described pr0n. Fantastic! Can't wait for the next part to see how Jack gets into Hogwarts.
no subject
Now there's a surprise. ;)
I love Draco taking charge. Anytime, really, but with Muggles I'm sure he has this whole complex system worked out to justify shagging them while leaving his pureblood arse untainted.
I'm really glad you enjoyed it!
no subject
I really did enjoy it. I reckon Draco justifies it by thinking that as long as he's the one shagging, not being shagged, then HE's using them, not vice versa. Muggles are there for his amusement. (He could use me any time, but we ALL know he's gay!) I'm looking forward to seeing Jack and Ianto meet up again and Harry and Draco reunite.
no subject
I don't know that there's any cure for Dracobsession. I've been trying to consume more of it than is humanly possible, thinking that might break the addiction, but sadly it's only made it worse.
no subject
Yeah, I tried the immersion technique too, but it just made me want Draco more. Truly, there is no cure. I shall just have to suffer... *puts on saintly, long-suffering face*
no subject
(Anonymous) 2008-05-30 10:36 am (UTC)(link)Can't wait for part three.
no subject
So true!
I think I want to go to that planet too.
Thanks for reading!
no subject
no subject
But yeah, Draco definitely has his evil moments. 's why I love him so! ;)
Thanks for reading!
no subject
Tell me Jack ends up at Hogwarts at some point! Please?
And I didn't comment on part 1 but I did love all the French names that Draco mentioned. Hee! It brought me back to my hometown (a hour outside of Montreal.)
I wish I had my TW icons on IJ! ::pouts::
no subject
*contemplates*
Anyway! I'm really glad that you liked Jack's voice! I've never written him before, but I had help from my fantastic beta who's written lots of Janto. So all credit belongs to her!
no subject
(Anonymous) 2008-05-30 01:32 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
no subject
(June is my hellmonth, as you know! This is a nice offset to the madness.)
no subject
I'mMy boys are usually pretty flexible, as a rule, but I had fun with this because if I had to label them, I think both Draco and Jack would top. Glad you enjoyed it -- I hope it'll provide you a welcome break!no subject
(Anonymous) 2008-05-30 03:49 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
no subject
(Anonymous) 2008-05-30 09:06 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
no subject
Gods, how I love the way you write smut. Rich imagery, that exact sense of tempo, it's perfect, darling!
::switches on the oscillating fan to cool down::
no subject
no subject
(Anonymous) 2008-05-30 10:41 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
Or bad as in not written right. I really would love to hear if you have any suggestions.
I'm very glad you're liking the story!
no subject
(Anonymous) 2008-05-31 01:53 am (UTC)(link)ciara__mist
no subject
no subject
(Anonymous) 2008-05-31 02:28 am (UTC)(link)However, Jack/Draco is a lot hotter than anticipated... though I should have anticipated because they are both sex kittens ;)
Maybe some surprise almostDraco/Ianto?
no subject
I'm glad you appreciated the hotness. :)
And I'll keep your request in mind...
no subject
no subject
no subject
Damn, I didn't think I would get into the Draco/Jack part of this fic (you know how diehard I am about Harry/Draco in H/D fic lol) but I can't deny how hot that was. I loved Draco taking charge--and like you said in a comment above, Jack's a Muggle, so Draco would totally have to top. ;)
I can't wait for more tomorrow! (And I can't wait to see Jack find out about the WW if he does--that will be interesting *g*)
I'd say the time you worked on the smut was totally worth it, hon! ♥
no subject
Thanks! I'm so happy that you liked it!
no subject
(Anonymous) 2008-05-31 05:33 pm (UTC)(link)no subject
no subject
Are you fuckin' kidding me? What a beautiful description!
And Another one!
And I'll be damned if that ain't yet another still!
and I love the ending of this chappy, too!
brava!
no subject
no subject
(Anonymous) 2008-06-11 09:04 am (UTC)(link)BTW I came over to this from the author of The Windhovers because I wanted fluffy fun smut :-D
Nicole
no subject
no subject
(Anonymous) 2008-06-12 12:47 pm (UTC)(link)And Draco hiding out in Canada? I'm not sure why I love that idea so much. But, yeah...
no subject
Thank you! I'm really glad you liked Jack!