OMFGSQUEEEEEE.
May. 11th, 2008 12:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
letterbladeSo, in case the rest of your respective f-lists haven't made this suffficiently clear, Iron Man fucking rocked.
And, because of how my brain works, this means it had to be crossed over with Torchwood. (All things get crossed over with either Torchwood or Utena. It is a law of my brain.)
*
Tony sets his drink down with a loud clink, and, still looking intently at Jack, reaches for the top buttons of his shirt. They lock eyes as he undoes them; Jack looks ancient and a little hungry. Paler in the white light of the reactor leaking through his undershirt. Pull that down, and the cool brilliance turns Jack's skin to ice and his eyes to pale dawn blue, and washes out the faint, fascinated smile tugging at his lips.
"That," Jack murmurs, "is a beauty." He reaches, catches himself. "May I?"
Tony shrugs.
It's odd, he still notices sometimes, to see somebody's hand reaching for his chest but feel nothing. He knows so exactly what Jack's feeling--the concentric rings of the glass covering, surprisingly cool over the white heat of the reactor. The equally surprising warmth of the ring of steel around it, soaked in ninety-seven degrees of body heat. But he still feels nothing--except when Jack's wide warm fingers brush against the skin butted up against it, and he can't stop the sharp breath of surprise. Always tender there.
"Centuries ahead," Jack murmurs. "Gotta chafe like hell, though." He's crouching between his legs like some big cat, face inches from the reactor.
"Pretty much," says Tony, and reaches for his drink.
*
In other news, I have been doing better these past few days, owe somebody a large apology, and am an enormous fucking dork.
Edit: Sex and ending done. Talky bit before sex still needs a few holes patched. I'm fucking tired and going to sleep. May need to see it again before I feel confident doing a final draft--oh, poor me, that must see it again! Off to go thud.
And, because of how my brain works, this means it had to be crossed over with Torchwood. (All things get crossed over with either Torchwood or Utena. It is a law of my brain.)
*
Tony sets his drink down with a loud clink, and, still looking intently at Jack, reaches for the top buttons of his shirt. They lock eyes as he undoes them; Jack looks ancient and a little hungry. Paler in the white light of the reactor leaking through his undershirt. Pull that down, and the cool brilliance turns Jack's skin to ice and his eyes to pale dawn blue, and washes out the faint, fascinated smile tugging at his lips.
"That," Jack murmurs, "is a beauty." He reaches, catches himself. "May I?"
Tony shrugs.
It's odd, he still notices sometimes, to see somebody's hand reaching for his chest but feel nothing. He knows so exactly what Jack's feeling--the concentric rings of the glass covering, surprisingly cool over the white heat of the reactor. The equally surprising warmth of the ring of steel around it, soaked in ninety-seven degrees of body heat. But he still feels nothing--except when Jack's wide warm fingers brush against the skin butted up against it, and he can't stop the sharp breath of surprise. Always tender there.
"Centuries ahead," Jack murmurs. "Gotta chafe like hell, though." He's crouching between his legs like some big cat, face inches from the reactor.
"Pretty much," says Tony, and reaches for his drink.
*
In other news, I have been doing better these past few days, owe somebody a large apology, and am an enormous fucking dork.
Edit: Sex and ending done. Talky bit before sex still needs a few holes patched. I'm fucking tired and going to sleep. May need to see it again before I feel confident doing a final draft--oh, poor me, that must see it again! Off to go thud.