Genre: Kinky smut
Notes: Originally written for the Voyuerism Porn Battle. Reposted for easier pimpage and commenting. No beta.
Summary: Jack and Gwen have a very hot date.
It took awhile to find the perfect theatre.
Most of them hadn’t survived the urban renewal that was turning Cardiff into a jewel of tourism, instead of the grubby backwater it had once been considered. Even the red-light district had become upscale and sparkling, and no one bothered going out for a dirty night at the cinema when it could all be done on-line or with DVD’s.
Everything changes, but the Regency Theatre had survived on the outskirts of town, complete with a marquis that always seemed to be missing a few letters, a terminally bored looking cashier, and a smell that combined dank concrete, stale cigarettes and, of course, sex.
It was dark and nasty, and Jack didn’t try to understand why something quite so vile could be such a turn-on. The atmosphere of sleaze itself as much as tawdry images on the screen. The film dated from the same period as the theatre itself. None of the cleaned up, politically correct or even safe pornography of Earth’s 21st Century. These men and woman and their sweaty, thrusting bodies were just as much relics as he was.
He looked at Gwen, and once again thanked his lucky stars. Jack had finally found a partner for whom no fetish needed to be kept to himself, and he was determined to take advantage to the fullest.
She had followed his instructions to the letter in terms of make- up and apparel, and there she was, with heavy eye-liner, red lipstick, her leather jacket, opened just enough to reveal just the tops of her breasts, and a short leather skirt, under which he’d already verified she had a garter belt and stockings, but no panties. They were equally prepared for action.
Before they left the car, he’d asked her one more time if she was okay with this.
She gave him that special smile, the one that said, “I love you, but stop being a twat.” He should have known. Their first date had been in an office and since then every outrageous suggestion he’d come up with, had been matched by one of her own. He reached under her skirt, and found out that she really was as excited by the idea as he was. They’d played it out so many times as a fantasy, raising the stakes with lurid details, until there was absolutely no choice but to go through it.
Now it was actually happening. The smell. The sounds. The sticky floor under his boots, and Gwen’s hand in his, squeezing, and then rubbing her thumb against his palm, as their eyes adjusted to the darkness and they scanned the audience, looking for the perfect, if unsuspecting partner in crime.
There he was, in the front row, a bull-frog faced man, gazing raptly at the grainy images in front of him, rubbing himself through his trousers.
Jack nodded at Gwen and she approached the man slowly, making sure all the patrons could see what was happening. If the audience had complaints about her temporarily appearing in front of the screen, they evaporated as soon as she opened her jacket, allowing the strokers to see her breasts in all their glory, illuminated by the glow of the projector.
As she knelt, Jack could imagine the feeling of cold, rough concrete under her knees, possibly tearing her stockings, and the smell that might be suffusing her nostrils as she reached out and undid the man’s trousers, followed by the thick, veiny cock against her lips and in her mouth.
Jack kept on eye on things, making sure Froggy didn’t raise any objections, not that he would. His perspective changed to that of the lucky bastard himself. Gwen’s mouth was absolutely sublime. What she already knew and what she’d been willing to learn from Jack had made her nearly the equal of his best, although he could hear John in his head somewhere protesting the assessment, or was he just jealous?
Hell, the whole theater was probably jealous. People were standing up, risking fistfights to see Gwen lowering her head on the man’s cock. Jack’s own trousers felt impossibly tight and he was putting off opening them until just the right moment, relishing the temporary constriction, at the sight of his Gwen, sucking a stranger’s cock in a dirty movie house.
Those lips, those beautiful red lips. And her pussy, naked under the skirt, wet and getting wetter as she got the man off, made him moan and squirm in his seat, earning the cheers of the crowd, as she kittenishly licked the dribble of come away from the corner of her mouth.
And now to show them just how much his she was.
Pulling Gwen to her feet and away from the stunned recipient of her oral skills, he found himself leaning again what must have once been a vaudeville stage. He quickly undid his own trousers and released his cock. He pushed Gwen’s skirt up, exposing her ass, which he briefly caressed, before pushing her legs apart and pushing himself inside her. So slick, so wet, so hot, but the angle was just a bit tricky.
The crowd was getting restless and Jack was never the kind of performer to let down an audience.
There were stairs on the sides of the stage. “Come on, “he said, sliding out, “we’re going up there.”
She nodded, and followed him….because she’d never get tired of it, just like he’d always told her.
Once on stage, his old showman instincts took over. He took off his coat and laid it down with a flourish. Then he quickly pulled the braces away from his shoulders and gave the crowd a gander at something better than anything they’d seen on the screen. That guy in Cuba never had anything on Jack Harkness.
With that out of the way, he lay down on top of the coat and gave Gwen another nod. Apparently, the former PC had a bit of the hambone herself, holding open her jacket in case anyone had missed the point earlier and then straddling Jack, the leather skirt rising to show off her ass.
In the fantasies, their own coupling hadn’t been quite this public, but that was before Jack found out exactly how far Gwen was willing to go, and now it was his turn to lie back and his wildcat take him, riding his cock, as she squeezed him from the inside and her hands gripped his arms.
He had to close his eyes against the glare, and the keep the audience in his memory as he gave in to the full realisation of what he was doing and where it was happening and who he was doing it with and that she could and would do these things over and over anyplace anytime and it was too much. He screamed her name, so he could pull her down against him tightly, as he came. The booming soundtrack drowned him out, as the paid performers reached another climax to complement his.
When he opened his eyes, he could see Gwen’s face, her teeth biting down on her lower lip, lipstick smeared into a sloppy mess, utterly debauched for his pleasure and still straining to find her own release.
He whispered into her ear, reminding her who and what she was and most specifically whose, as he reached between her legs, fingers working feverishly until she went over as well, thrashing and panting.
Her eyeliner had become a ruin as well, and she was one of the most beautiful things Jack had ever seen.
By now, he suspected the manager might be looking to have them thrown out, unless he was planning to offer a steady job, five days a week with matinees on Mondays.
Jack would have been tempted, but he’d have to decline. They couldn’t afford him.
He helped Gwen to her feet. There was no way either of them could look decent, much less respectable, but it would make sense to avoid another exposure arrest on the way back to the car.
The first one had been her fault completely. Jack hadn’t suspected for a minute that she would actually try to do that in the middle of traffic on a Wednesday afternoon. Now he knew better. He knew there was nothing she wouldn’t do and the thought made him a little giddy and lot horny.
“That was amazing, Jack. Absolutely amazing. The look on his face. All those people looking at me.”
Apparently Gwen was a bit giddy with the experience as well.
He couldn’t wait to get her back to the hub, to relive it again, this time in private, where they could relish the memory of every detail.
“So what’s next,” he asked, starting the SUV.
“We’ll take a shower and I’ll fix up my make-up so I can do it to you this time and…”
“No, I’ mean the next…thing. It’s your turn to pick one.”
The smile that came to her smudged lips was enough to make Jack thought he might have to pull over to the side of the road and risk that arrest after all.
“Let’s just say it’s going to require hand-cuffs, a blindfold and a riding crop.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“Oh, and did I mention Tosh?”