karaokegal (karaokegal) wrote,
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"Orders" Torchwood fic Jack/Owen PWP NC17 1300 Words

Title: Orders
Author: karaokegal
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing: Jack/Owen (references to Jack/Ianto)
Wordcount: 1300
Rating: NC17-SMUT
Spoilers: Series One and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang
All hail the beta_goddess for never going easy on me.

Summary: There’d never been anything easy about Owen Harper.





“Do you actually get anything out of this, or do you just come over here for the view?”

Only Owen would ask him a question like that, especially at a time like this, when he had his legs over Owen’s, fucking himself on Owen’s cock. The view out of Owen’s window at the Bay was admittedly nice, but the sight of Owen’s angular features contorting with reluctant desire was better.

The position wasn’t the most comfortable in his repertoire, but he’d already had Ianto face down, spread wide and accommodating earlier in the evening, so obviously “easy” wasn’t what he was here for.

There’d never been anything easy about Owen Harper. With nothing but a medical licence that he’d barely managed to keep, Dr. Harper had slouched into the Hub and managed to convey the attitude that Torchwood was lucky to have him at all. His lack of respect for any authority, including Jack’s, could be amusing when it wasn’t driving Jack to consider the recreational applications of the more amusing interrogation techniques he’d learned from Dr. Brophy back in the Academy. He couldn’t deny that the man knew his stuff from the medical side, which in the world of Torchwood was good enough. Social skills were not a requirement; neither was being willing to sleep with the boss, although it certainly brightened up the boss’s day.

Getting Owen into bed had proved to be one of Jack’s bigger challenges, but definitely worth it, he thought, feeling the body underneath him tremble with frustration and exhaustion.

His thighs throbbed as he moved himself up and down on Owen’s dick, pleasure transmitting itself in the tiniest increments of movement. He’d already brought himself off once, but had no intention of allowing Owen the same privilege, not yet anyway.

“The view looks fine from here.”

Owen’s face was a picture of tension, both seeking release and fearing the price. Instead of giving in to what Jack was doing, he fought back with words.

“How was your date?”

Like having dinner in a minefield surrounded by ghosts.

“Great. Just fine. Lovely dinner.”

“Then why are you over here looking for dessert?”

“Shut the fuck up, Owen!”

“Yes, sir.”

Typical Owen. Not a hint of actual submission and yet he obeyed, as he always did.

Jack had tried charm, flattery and the rest of the weapons in the Harkness seduction arsenal only to find himself hitting a brick wall of sarcasm, complete with a few aspersions on his manhood. He’d backed off, because hey, why bother with a draft when there are so many willing recruits, but he was still a soldier at heart and he didn’t like to lose any battle, especially one that was so much fun to fight.

Of course, that didn’t mean he wouldn’t play dirty. He’d found Owen in a pub the night that Ed Morgan met his unmourned demise, attempting to set the All Wales drinking record. He’d looked into Owen’s eyes. Even half-snockered and seen in bar-light, they held a nearly frightening intensity. Jack knew this wouldn’t be easy and it might not be smart, and it certainly wasn’t nice, but he wasn’t a nice guy, no matter what Gwen wanted to believe.

He reached out and grabbed Owen by the back of the neck and pulled him close enough to smell the liquor as well as sense the pain and anger and -- there it was -- the need.

“Kiss me,” Jack demanded.

“What?” Owen had bristled, clearly confused, if not downright offended.

“Kiss me,” he repeated in his command voice. Loud enough to be heard by the couple in the seats next to them, who weren’t even pretending not to watch.

“Oh for god’s sake, Harkness. How many times do I have to tell you…?”

“I just gave you an order. I know you can obey an order when you want to.”

“But I don’t…”

“I think you do.”

Only the couple and the bartender were surprised when Owen moved his face the few inches necessary to reach Jack’s mouth and take it in a swift move. Jack could feel Owen’s shoulders tensing under his fingers as the kiss continued, getting deeper and rougher than he’d actually expected, which made it more arousing. He hadn’t intended the first time to be in a men’s room, but he couldn’t deny the excitement of finding out exactly what Owen would do when properly motivated and just how good he was at it, protests and Suzie to the contrary.

So much had happened, but nothing had changed. It still took a direct order to get Owen out of his clothes. Ianto would do anything to please Jack and Jack was happy to accept that, but he needed this too. The attitude, the arguing, the questions that he didn’t want to hear and had no intention of answering. The implication that while he might be following orders, Owen wasn’t actually enjoying any of this, although the groans and the stickiness seemed to argue otherwise.

For whatever reason, Owen needed to be ordered, and Jack certainly knew how to do that. He looked at Owen’s chest, now damp with sweat and the evidence of what Jack really got out of this, the muscles of his abdomen glistening in relief. He ran a hand from the middle of Owen’s torso down to the base of his cock. He licked his finger, tasting the sweat, and felt another shiver go through his body, only to be echoed beneath him.

“Can’t take this much longer.”

Owen’s voice, sounding a bit hard done by, but Jack’s thoughts as well.

“Tell me.”

“What?”

“That you want this as much as I do.”

For once he needed to know that he wasn’t just being a bastard, although why that would matter he wasn’t sure, especially since this was Owen, who knew all about what kind of bastard he was, as opposed to Ianto, who, if he chose, was still in a position to delude himself on that score.

“Are you ordering me, Captain?”

“Yes!”

“Fine, then! All right. I’m only human and you’re…you! Yeah, I’m bloody thrilled that you’re willing to come over here and have it off with me once in a while. Now can we please get on with it?”

“That’s better.”

Without letting Owen escape the grip of his own body, Jack brought his aching legs forward, which produced an almost sobbing moan as Owen realized that he had the leverage to thrust upwards and that Jack was going to give him what he’d been waiting for.

He nodded his permission and felt Owen’s hand stroking him in a rough grip. Everything was moving too hard and too fast. Owen was gasping out various obscenities and Jack knew he needed to assert his control over the situation before he could lose it.

It took everything he had to gauge the timing so he could bark one last order for the night.

“Come.”

Owen pushed up so hard he nearly threw Jack off, so that Jack had to grasp his shoulders and push back, holding him down on the bed, so that the moment hit them at the same time and he couldn’t tell who was screaming or cursing or gasping especially once he’d pressed his mouth down on Owen’s, biting his lips, again demanding, this time without words and getting what he wanted, until it was too much, but enough for the time being.

“You going back to your little pushover now?”

“Not tonight,” he murmured, pulling himself away from Owen, finally taking the pressure off his legs and stretching out into delicious exhaustion. With Ianto he didn’t even have to push, which was nice, whereas with Owen, there was nothing but pushing. He’d be back with Ianto soon enough.

And then back here.

Tags: jack harkness, jack/owen, nc17, owen harper, torchwood
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