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andthentheyhavesex, the end.
The year-that-wasn't Torchwood crackfic continues apace. it's about 22,000 words now. I kind of lagged on it for a while because a) I was spending all my free time consuming a really long fic (seriously, for about two weeks!) and b), once I wrote out the dot-points plan for the rest I tended to just read that list over and over and chuckle instead of doing actual writing. But I got back into it today! And managed to integrate a scene I'd written a while ago that I wasn't yet ready for then.
To celebrate, have an excerpt:
Meanwhile, every so often I transition between google docs to neo office to microsoft word to text pad and grrr, they all do things annoyingly differently. Like erase paragraph breaks or not actually copy & paste the entire thing. It worries me. Maybe I'll just carry it around on a USB stick and periodically email myself the file.
If I lost any of it, I think I might cry. IT JUST DOESN'T BEAR THINKING ABOUT!
Right, back to it. Perhaps I'll heat up some rum as an accompaniment.
To celebrate, have an excerpt:
Tosh isn't sure what her expression's like right now; torn between embarrassment in having this conversation with Gwen at all and disbelief that Gwen's so blatantly lying. Has she forgotten that Tosh, during Gwen's adulterous phase, had been in possession of an alien device that had let her read minds? It's hard to concentrate, though, with the brush of Gwen's fingers are cool against the shell of Tosh's ear, and the barely-there scrape of fingernail as Gwen carefully removes Tosh's glasses makes Tosh shiver.
"Not like," Gwen says, her breath puffing over Tosh's hot face, and she's close enough now that Tosh's gaze has to dart from eye to eye to keep eye contact with Gwen. "Well, you know..."
Gwen's lips are soft and yielding where Tosh is sure hers are chapped; it's been a long time since either of them have worn any lippy but Gwen must have licked her lips in anticipation of this. The thought makes Tosh's chin surge forward and her mouth fill with saliva. Their teeth don't even clash, Gwen's jaw tips open as well as Tosh's tongue instinctually darts in--the inside of Gwen's mouth is cool and very slick, like their spit has different consistency--then Gwen closes her lips around it as Tosh draws it back again, mouthing at Tosh's lower lip briefly before Tosh manages to disengage.
The tip of Gwen's nose nudges against her cheek and Tosh finds herself angling her head again to draw the contact into a caress, the liquid of Gwen's mouth almost inadvertently brushing against her own lips again and clinging.
“Gwen,” Tosh says, then again, stronger. "Gwen." She plants her hand in the middle of Gwen’s chest—well, a bit above the middle, avoiding as much contact with Gwen’s heaving bosom as possible, trying to keep her mouth out of reach, though she can't help instinctually licking her own lips as their contact is broken again. Gwen finally pulls back, allowing the distance. Her ribcage expands and deflates rapidly under Tosh’s hand, and her lips are glossy with spit.
“You don’t want to do this,” Tosh says firmly. “What about Rhys?”
It’s a touchy subject, one that Tosh, Owen and Ianto have all come to an unspoken agreement to avoid, at least in earshot of Gwen. It’s a risk to bring him up now, but desperate times and all of that.
Gwen chews on her lower lip--not helping Tosh's concentration at all--and sighs. “He...” she begins shakily. “He’d want me to.” She glances back up at Tosh, her expression begging a mutual admiration of the nobility of the absent—and most likely deceased—man.
“He’d want you to go on without him?” Tosh prompts gently, trying to ignore how close they still are, unable to calm her breathing enough that each inhalation doesn't faintly brush her breasts against Gwen's own. “Carry on, find someone new?”
“No,” Gwen looks a bit confused, but not distressed, thank god. “He’d want me to shag another woman.”
Meanwhile, every so often I transition between google docs to neo office to microsoft word to text pad and grrr, they all do things annoyingly differently. Like erase paragraph breaks or not actually copy & paste the entire thing. It worries me. Maybe I'll just carry it around on a USB stick and periodically email myself the file.
If I lost any of it, I think I might cry. IT JUST DOESN'T BEAR THINKING ABOUT!
Right, back to it. Perhaps I'll heat up some rum as an accompaniment.
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Well, you'll be getting probably around 30,000 words of "this sort of thing" when all is said and done. WOT!
No RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRHYS though, sorry. Or Jack! WHAT WILL FANDOM DO TO ME?
no subject
Gasp spoilerz indeeeed! :o
Lol you rebel. Buck the trend of the poison vagina! Buck it, I say!