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savagestime... The Sex Meme!
Mar. 19th, 2009 10:11 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thecopper{{ooc: I wracked my brain on this puppy trying to figure out how this could happen. So I apologise for the lack of conventional sex (Wow, I can't believe I just wrote that), but it definitely turned into something of its own!}}
“I’m bored. Entertain me.”
Boredom sits on Jack’s desk, legs swinging with almost childlike enthusiasm over the side. Boredom glints his eyes and smiles like a nightmare. Boredom has the face of a dead man.
Gwen sits across from Boredom, her arms grasped to the chair. Her fringe is hanging in her face; she was meant to have a trim, that morning actually, until the text that brought her in early to work arrived to her mobile.
Come quickly, or I may kill them. I’m bored.
He has no name, but she knows him. His face is that of a man thought dead, one that she had given little thought too. But she knew him, somehow, if not by his true name. She knew him from the dark look in Jack’s eyes as the man lead her up the stairs. She knew him as yet another secret Jack kept and now his team would pay for.
She supposed to hate him. It seems right, from the look in Jack’s eyes.
“You never introduced yourself.”
“Really?” He scoffs and looks her up and down. She doesn’t know if it is anger or madness that glints in his eyes, because it has been so long since she could tell the difference. “Really, Jack is actually rather funny. I would have hoped his little team would be just as amusing.”
“How do you know Jack?”
“Oh!” He jumps off the desk with a flourish and bends towards her. His face is only inches from her own, his breath against her cheek. “Jack and I are good old friends. Not really any of your business, though.” He waves his arm dramatically as he stands.
Gwen sighs and slumps into the chair. “I can’t believe I voted for you.”
He makes a sound like a tsk and shakes his head in clear mock sadness. “That’s a terrible thing to say to someone who gave you a lovely holiday to the Himalayas, was it? I mean, really. Kids these days!”
“Harold Saxon is dead,” Gwen spits.
“No matter,” he waves again, like he’s waving away an insect buzzing around him. “That’s not who I am now.”
She stands abruptly and comes towards him, trying to echo his anger or madness, but there is only emptiness where feeling should be.
And he stands in front of her, with his nightmare smile, terrible like the rest of them with their secrets and their hidden terror.
“What’s wrong?” he chides, and she knows she should feel something but she can’t. “Gwen Cooper, weren’t you the one he hired to care? It must be hard, so terribly hard, not that I would know much about it. Caring, I mean.”
Gwen imagines the words make sense to someone, but not her. She is too tired to think, to tired to feel, and he’s still talking.
“What was it like? Really, I’d love to know.” He smiles again, and leans against the desk lazily.
Everywhere in the world, there are people talking and laughing. There are couples fighting and loving. There are old friends meeting and smiling. Gwen is in the bowls of Torchwood, talking to Boredom who smiles with the lips of a dead man. It’s the most casual conversation in the world.
“What do you mean?” she asks, breathless, as if she should understand.
“To stop caring? To stop feeling?” Boredom is gone, replaced with something much more sinister. He moves towards her, and his arm is around her waist and she is pressed against his body. His breath tickles her cheek again. He stares into her eyes. “Tell me about that first moment, when you realized you had stopped caring? What was that emptiness like? Did you fight for anything - to love, to hate, to kill, to do whatever you could just to fill it, to feel something again?”
They all have secrets. All of them but her.
“Yes,” she says.
He presses against her. Her body is reacting in all of the ways it should, driven by instinct and not knowledge. Her body doesn’t know what her mind does, but her mind feels nothing, so her body moves without it.
His lips hover against her, and the smile is gone. She is lost in his eyes, filled with anger or madness and there’s a spark within her, a moment of feeling.
Anger, because he knows her secret and she knows nothing of him. Jealously, because he feels and she can’t. Boredom, because she has done this all before.
She wants to love him. It feels wrong, from the look in his eyes.
“There it is!” he declares, and she is so close that his breath is moist against his lips. “I can see it. What is that, dear? Anger? Hatred? But it’s something, isn’t it? Isn’t it something to feel?”
She wants to fight her way from his grasp, but she can’t. Her body wants to remain close to his warmth, and her mind wants to seek his guidance. He makes her feel, he makes her angry and wanton, and there is nothing she can think of that is worth losing that.
Not her loyalty, not her integrity, not her faith. She had lost all those a long time ago, anyway.
So it is he that pulls them apart, and she stumbles back into her chair. He barks something like a laugh, as if it was he that won the battle. She slows her quickened breath and turns to him again, and she can feel the anger burning in her eyes.
He smiles again, but Boredom has already returned. She wonders if he knows how much she loves him, and how much she hates him. She wonders if he always grows bored so easily.
“I think we’re done here,” he says dismissively, as if a formal meeting had been adjourned. He leaves without another word.
The door clangs shut behind him, a hollow sound that seems to echo through the forgotten parts of her soul, and she fights to need to follow him. To beg him, again, to make her feel.
------------
Cut for Length
------------
Muse: Gwen Cooper, Torchwood
Prompt: Sexual Relations Meme
Verse: Open/Canon
Word Count: 1014
“I’m bored. Entertain me.”
Boredom sits on Jack’s desk, legs swinging with almost childlike enthusiasm over the side. Boredom glints his eyes and smiles like a nightmare. Boredom has the face of a dead man.
Gwen sits across from Boredom, her arms grasped to the chair. Her fringe is hanging in her face; she was meant to have a trim, that morning actually, until the text that brought her in early to work arrived to her mobile.
Come quickly, or I may kill them. I’m bored.
He has no name, but she knows him. His face is that of a man thought dead, one that she had given little thought too. But she knew him, somehow, if not by his true name. She knew him from the dark look in Jack’s eyes as the man lead her up the stairs. She knew him as yet another secret Jack kept and now his team would pay for.
She supposed to hate him. It seems right, from the look in Jack’s eyes.
“You never introduced yourself.”
“Really?” He scoffs and looks her up and down. She doesn’t know if it is anger or madness that glints in his eyes, because it has been so long since she could tell the difference. “Really, Jack is actually rather funny. I would have hoped his little team would be just as amusing.”
“How do you know Jack?”
“Oh!” He jumps off the desk with a flourish and bends towards her. His face is only inches from her own, his breath against her cheek. “Jack and I are good old friends. Not really any of your business, though.” He waves his arm dramatically as he stands.
Gwen sighs and slumps into the chair. “I can’t believe I voted for you.”
He makes a sound like a tsk and shakes his head in clear mock sadness. “That’s a terrible thing to say to someone who gave you a lovely holiday to the Himalayas, was it? I mean, really. Kids these days!”
“Harold Saxon is dead,” Gwen spits.
“No matter,” he waves again, like he’s waving away an insect buzzing around him. “That’s not who I am now.”
She stands abruptly and comes towards him, trying to echo his anger or madness, but there is only emptiness where feeling should be.
And he stands in front of her, with his nightmare smile, terrible like the rest of them with their secrets and their hidden terror.
“What’s wrong?” he chides, and she knows she should feel something but she can’t. “Gwen Cooper, weren’t you the one he hired to care? It must be hard, so terribly hard, not that I would know much about it. Caring, I mean.”
Gwen imagines the words make sense to someone, but not her. She is too tired to think, to tired to feel, and he’s still talking.
“What was it like? Really, I’d love to know.” He smiles again, and leans against the desk lazily.
Everywhere in the world, there are people talking and laughing. There are couples fighting and loving. There are old friends meeting and smiling. Gwen is in the bowls of Torchwood, talking to Boredom who smiles with the lips of a dead man. It’s the most casual conversation in the world.
“What do you mean?” she asks, breathless, as if she should understand.
“To stop caring? To stop feeling?” Boredom is gone, replaced with something much more sinister. He moves towards her, and his arm is around her waist and she is pressed against his body. His breath tickles her cheek again. He stares into her eyes. “Tell me about that first moment, when you realized you had stopped caring? What was that emptiness like? Did you fight for anything - to love, to hate, to kill, to do whatever you could just to fill it, to feel something again?”
They all have secrets. All of them but her.
“Yes,” she says.
He presses against her. Her body is reacting in all of the ways it should, driven by instinct and not knowledge. Her body doesn’t know what her mind does, but her mind feels nothing, so her body moves without it.
His lips hover against her, and the smile is gone. She is lost in his eyes, filled with anger or madness and there’s a spark within her, a moment of feeling.
Anger, because he knows her secret and she knows nothing of him. Jealously, because he feels and she can’t. Boredom, because she has done this all before.
She wants to love him. It feels wrong, from the look in his eyes.
“There it is!” he declares, and she is so close that his breath is moist against his lips. “I can see it. What is that, dear? Anger? Hatred? But it’s something, isn’t it? Isn’t it something to feel?”
She wants to fight her way from his grasp, but she can’t. Her body wants to remain close to his warmth, and her mind wants to seek his guidance. He makes her feel, he makes her angry and wanton, and there is nothing she can think of that is worth losing that.
Not her loyalty, not her integrity, not her faith. She had lost all those a long time ago, anyway.
So it is he that pulls them apart, and she stumbles back into her chair. He barks something like a laugh, as if it was he that won the battle. She slows her quickened breath and turns to him again, and she can feel the anger burning in her eyes.
He smiles again, but Boredom has already returned. She wonders if he knows how much she loves him, and how much she hates him. She wonders if he always grows bored so easily.
“I think we’re done here,” he says dismissively, as if a formal meeting had been adjourned. He leaves without another word.
The door clangs shut behind him, a hollow sound that seems to echo through the forgotten parts of her soul, and she fights to need to follow him. To beg him, again, to make her feel.
------------
Cut for Length
------------
Muse: Gwen Cooper, Torchwood
Prompt: Sexual Relations Meme
Verse: Open/Canon
Word Count: 1014
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-20 08:27 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2009-03-21 02:24 am (UTC)I'm so glad that you liked it. ::hugs::