Pairing : Jack/Rhys (you read it right, folks.) Also includes Jack/Ianto and mentions of others.
Written in a manic three days as a canon-subversion reaction to certain aspects of Reset. Oblique spoilers for Series 1 and 2 up through Reset and specific spoilers for Meat. Attn:
Amazing Beta services provided by beta_goddess who knows when to tell me that I'm imitating myself.
Summary: Jack knows his failings as a human being and gives into them every time.
Jack knew his failings as a human being better than most people. He’d lived with them long enough and suffered the consequences over and over. The boredom got him every time. By tying himself to Torchwood, Jack had given up the option to exit stage right with a broad grin and a snappy salute.
Maybe it was having John rekindle just a bit of the old Jack, the one who’d been practising the fine art of the con before meeting a blonde in a Union Jack t-shirt and a man who wouldn’t let him keep being that guy. It could have been the after-effects of finding that man again, and everything that had happened because of it. It didn’t matter why.
He’d wanted Ianto, he’d had him and enjoyed it immeasurably, but now he wanted something else. Some one. The one he couldn’t have.
“You do realise she’s engaged.”
Considering his long tenure with Torchwood, Ianto had a conventional streak more suited to a suburban mom from an earlier era, although once you got some of those broads out of their girdles, they could end up surprising you.
Jack had been fending off the boredom by suggesting variations that were already considered passé in his original time, only to have Ianto stammer and blush and raise token protests before giving in to the inevitable. But when it came to the one thing that would really have kept him interested, he hit a wall of self-defeating stubbornness.
“I won’t share you, Jack,” Ianto announced grimly every time Jack brought up the possibility of a threesome, no matter who the proposed third party happened to be.
That Ianto was already sharing Jack emotionally and occasionally physically was a fact that could apparently be ignored as long as there wasn’t an actual body in the bed, which was where Jack most definitely wanted it. It had been a long time since he’d had that feeling of being completely surrounded and he missed it. John had always been up for those games, and very skilful at finding other willing participants. Naturally he held his memories of Rose and the Doctor dear and tight to his heart. They’d been the best times of his life, something long gone. He wanted that feeling back and he wanted it with the two members of the team he felt closest to: Ianto and Gwen.
He felt his body responding to the image as strongly as he felt Ianto’s disapproval of the fact that he was still watching Gwen and Rhys on CCTV. Jack heard ice tinkle in a glass behind him. That was a second drink, which meant a major Welsh mope underway.
Having Rhys around the Hub had forced Jack to acknowledge his feelings for Gwen to himself, both the longing and his determination not to act on it. He could have her if he wanted to. Every look they’d shared from the moment they met told him that, but he wouldn’t because he was a better man now, the man the Doctor knew he could be.
Unfortunately he couldn’t hide the feelings from his current boyfriend -- always a dicey situation, especially when the cut-and-run strategy wasn’t available.
Jack had been here before and he thought he knew exactly what was putting that pout on Ianto’s sharp features. Ironically, it made his lips look extremely kissable but augured badly for the chance of Jack actually getting to do so.
It would take a few more centuries for monosexuality to become a rarity bordering on perversion. This generation of humans still clung desperately to their labels and Ianto had made the decision that his relationship with Jack meant a commitment to one gender over the other. He might be able to stomach losing Jack to another man, although it would hurt, but if it were a woman -- Gwen Cooper, for instance -- that would be the ultimate insult.
Creeping monotony was no reason to give up a reliable shag on the premises when there was nothing new lined up. Besides, he wasn’t up for what would no doubt be a very messy break-up with the rest of the team choosing sides, and look how well that had turned out the last time. He needed to keep Ianto happy enough to continue keeping him happy. A white lie was called for.
“Look, Ianto, I’m sorry. I’ve been paying too much attention to them. But it’s not because of Gwen. I mean, come on, Gwen?”
“Your affection for Ms. Cooper is no secret.”
“Yeah, but not like that.”
“Then what, may I ask, is the fascination?”
“Rhys Williams, the transport manager?”
“That would be the one.”
“You expect me to believe that you’ve decided you want to have a go at the same individual you recently referred to as ‘Mr. Caveman.’”
“Caveman isn’t always an insult.”
“It certainly sounded like one this afternoon.”
“You gotta admit, he’s cute.”
“He had ice cream on his chin,” Ianto pointed out in a tone that Jack noticed was verging on snippy.
“But it’s a cute chin.”
“When did this attraction first assert itself?”
“What’s not to like? He’s sweet. He was smart enough to get us into that meat-packing plant today. He’s brave. He’s devoted.”
“To Gwen,” Ianto replied, darkly enough for Jack to tell he was actually starting to fall for it. Good to know he hadn’t lost his touch. “He’s devoted to Gwen. As I am to you. And I won’t share you.”
That was starting to sound creepy, but Jack chose not to queer the deal by mentioning it right then.
“I got that. And I’m not asking you to. I am asking you to put down that glass and help me forget this whole day ever happened.”
He turned off the monitor, leaving Gwen and Rhys to their happy coupledom without prying eyes. Turning to Ianto, Jack took note of tight lips and narrowed eyes, indicating an upgrade from moping to huffy. That he could work with. Moping meant up to two weeks of silence and bad coffee, whereas huffy usually led to fucking within the hour. Jack smiled to himself, still somewhat amazed that Ianto had fallen for the scam.
Rhys? Come on.
What started as a lie, verging almost on a joke as far as Jack was concerned, became an actual idea.
Jack had thought about Gwen while having sex with Ianto before, but this was the first time he’d ever found himself actually imagining her fiancé. The narrow hips he was grasping to steady himself were replaced by the more substantial backside and body of Rhys Williams. He imagined himself kissing a sweaty neck, touching soft brown hair and thrusting into someone so new to the experience that every moment was a revelation. He’d failed to save the creature, but there was one place he was always successful.
He must have somehow outdone himself, because after he had collapsed, fulfilled and sweaty, he found Ianto staring at him as though it were time to call in the team and report that the captain had been abducted and replaced with a sexual maniac. No, that didn’t make sense. Ianto had called him a sex maniac many times. It was practically an endearment.
“You okay, Ianto?”
“Fine, sir. That was just….”
“As you said, it’s been a long day. I’ll be off now.”
“Yes. A few things to see to at home.”
This was the first time since Jack’s return that Ianto had been willing to leave him alone for more than a few hours at night. He hoped this meant Ianto was willing to cut the apron strings a bit. Jack had done all the reassuring he could without moving into the realm of outright deception.
Jack generally liked Ianto’s company, but it was a blessed relief to have some time to himself. He had a few more notions about Rhys and it would be good to get them out of his system before Gwen showed up to work tomorrow.
The idea didn’t go away. It moved into his brain and set up housekeeping.
He couldn’t look at Gwen without thinking about Rhys and the scenarios in his brain kept getting hotter and hotter. Ianto had claimed lack of experience, but there’d always been an air of darkness and mystery that went along with the suits and too-perfect manners, even before his secret tried to kill them all.
Rhys, on the other hand…
“You’re not gay by any chance?” Oh, Rhys. The things I could teach you…
“Jack, will that be okay with you?”
“I said I’m going to take the new readings and correlate them with some anomalies that NASA’s been getting from the Mars Rover.”
“Mars? Who cares about Mars? There hasn’t been anything exciting there since…uh, never mind.”
“Is everything okay, Jack?”
“Fine. Just fine.”
How many times had he lectured the team? Have a quick roll in the hay with each other if you need to, but don’t let it affect work. He could always request that Ianto come to his office and provide him with some quick relief. He’d get it, but the problem would remain, and it was definitely becoming a problem.
“Gwen, sweetheart. What can I do for you?”
Great. He’d been thinking about Rhys again, and now he sounded just as cheesy as Mickey Smith had accused him of being all those years ago… although not so many any more.
He’d spent a ridiculous amount of time listening to Gwen chatter about plans for the wedding as though he were one of her school friends, just to hear any scrap of information about Rhys..
“I know you’re not really much for the social thing. You like to be here in case something happens. Gotta be ready and all that.”
She was rambling nervously, the way she did when something was up with Rhys that she said she didn’t want to talk about, but always did. He stared at her mouth, the gap in her teeth, the shade of lipstick she’d been using lately, remembered watching her and Rhys kiss, wondered exactly what Rhys’ lips felt like.
“But I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind coming over for dinner tonight. Rhys is doing this big roast. He told me he wants to fatten you up a bit, but that I should say it’s so he can thank you.”
“He has nothing to thank me for. I should thank him.”
“Well, anyway, I told him that you don’t do cosy dinners and it would be all I could do to get you to the wedding itself, but Jack, we’re both so jumpy with the rehearsal dinners coming up that I thought it would be nice to have one sane person around.”
“I’ll be happy to come over.”
“Assuming we don’t have a Weevil attack keeping us out all night.”
She looked genuinely perplexed by his new interest in social interaction and would probably run off to tell Tosh and Owen about her suspicions of abduction. If Jack wasn’t careful, he’d end up on a poster at Tescos and the sketch artist wouldn’t do him justice.
Before the gossip train could travel too far, there was a call from Kathy Swanson.
“How’s my favourite detective?”
He really had to stop doing that. Apparently Detective Swanson agreed
“Stuff it, Jack. I’ve got something that needs your attention. Guy in custody.”
“Why me?” Jack was instantly suspicious. He'd been out of the interrogation business since the mid-70’s and those files were supposed to have been destroyed.
“Possibly because he’s turned green…”
“Sure that’s not from the food?”
“… and our medic insists he’s breathing through his ears.”
“So, she says he’s breathing through his ears and I say…”
“Must be popular with the ladies?” Rhys guessed, dishing out a second helping of meat along with some potatoes.
“Exactly,” Jack replied and they all laughed, including Gwen, who should have been trying harder to look the slightest bit outraged by the bawdy humour, but she was on a third glass of wine and Jack knew she’d heard him say racier things than that.
It felt so nice to be there with them, as though he were a part of their lives. For a while Jack forgot his romantic feelings for Gwen and his purely lustful ones for Rhys. He just let himself enjoy without regrets or expectations. How long since he’d been able to do something like this? What had he given up for Torchwood? Was it worth it? Stop brooding, he reminded himself. If he wanted to do that he could stay in the Hub with Ianto for company.
Tonight he was relaxing enough to have one beer and his second helping of dinner, which was as good a meal as he could remember having in decades, and saying yes when Rhys asked if he was up for a movie.
A touch of his ear confirmed that Owen and Tosh were having a quiet night in the lab with their green friend, who it turned out was not breathing through his ears, but rather through small gills in his earlobes. That made much more sense.
“So what’ll it be then, Jack. You fancy a musical or something with a lot of guns blazing?”
“Can’t I have both?”
“Jack.” It was almost endearing the way Gwen and Rhys said his name at the same time, as though they were his disapproving parents. That should have been a bizarre thought given his less than honourable intentions, but Jack had always been as flexible with social roles as he was with sexual ones. He let himself remember Rose and the Doctor speaking to him the same way for as long as he could stand to think about it, which was all of two seconds.
“Whatever you two want is fine with me.”
It turned out that Rhys was a fan of American movies, especially those of James Cagney, so they ended up with guns and music, just not in the same movie. Jack was happy to sit on the sofa where Gwen had decided, perhaps symbolically or just naively, that Rhys should sit between them. It was only halfway through The Public Enemy that he noticed his leg had ended up touching Rhys’. Rhys didn’t seem to be aware of the situation, so Jack did nothing, but took nearly the rest of the movie to let his hand move the same direction until it was ever so casually wedged between their legs, feeling the soft material of Rhys’ khakis.
When Gwen looked over to verify that her boss was having a good time, Jack made sure that she saw him engrossed in the doings onscreen, but when Rhys gave his own curious glance, Jack risked catching his eye and received a diffident shrug in return. The fingers remained where they were through Cagney’s demise until Rhys got up to take a run to the loo while Gwen changed the disks and made popcorn in the microwave.
During Footlight Parade, the process started all over again, but this time either through carelessness or deliberately, Rhys’ hand brushed against his before finding its way back to the safety of his own leg. Meanwhile, Gwen and Rhys were holding hands in the manner of happy couples all over the universe, some of whom didn’t even have hands. They always managed to find some way to touch. It was one of the constants, Jack had learned, and another one was him, furtively touching hands somewhere, trying to find a place for himself.
When he arrived back at the Hub Jack learned thatwhile Kathy’s green, gill-breathing prisoner had been confounding Owen’s diagnostic skills and Toshiko’s database of known aliens, he’d also started sweating pure mercury. The atmosphere between Owen and Tosh seemed reasonably pleasant, which made Jack happy. He knew the cost of playing matchmaker with the employees, but it would make life so much easier if Owen would wake up and see what a great girl Toshiko was.
Speaking of matches made in heaven or elsewhere...
“He’s not here?” Owen appeared confused by the question
“He was here,” Toshiko pointed out unhelpfully. “He took notes for a while. I didn’t notice him leaving.”
Hadn’t they learned anything? Torchwood had to watch out for each other, sometimes literally. He dialled Ianto’s mobile.
At least he was answering.
“You pulled a disappearing act.”
“No, I finished my job and went home in the hope that some time together might be helpful for Tosh and Owen.”
“Did it help?”
“I’m not sure. But nice try. See you tomorrow.”
“I can come back now, if you need me, sir.”
He still had a few hours of not sleeping to get through.
“Sure. Come on over.”
Jack was seriously considering taking Mr. Green, Gill-Breathing, Mercury-Sweating Whatever-Kind-Of-Alien-He-Was apart with his bare hands. The guy turned out to have friends of a similar hue and equally antisocial tendencies and Kathy was acting as though he’d personally invited them to Cardiff for a family reunion. The team was running all over town rounding them up, and it turned out the Weevils didn’t like them at all. Not that they could do a good job of explaining why, but the situation in the cells was getting tense, although not as tense as the various soap operas playing out among the Torchwood members themselves.
Owen had somehow managed to hurt Tosh’s feelings -- again -- and Gwen, with her typical timing, had hugged Jack to thank him for a lovely evening just as Ianto was bringing in the morning coffee. As a result he had to pair Ianto with Tosh and Owen with Gwen and take care of the bastard at the train station himself. Having done that, he decided that he deserved a treat. There must be a coffee shop near Rhys’ office, or a launderette, or some other necessity of life he could use as an excuse.
“Hi Ruth, how’s my gal? When can I take you away from all this?”
“Oh no you don’t, Jack. This one’s all mine,” Rhys said gallantly, giving his secretary an affectionate squeeze of the shoulders, and saving her from revealing that Jack’s mild flirtation had rendered her speechless.
Jack had decided where the appeal was coming from, aside from his own deranged libido. Rhys reminded him of the men he’d known earlier in the last century. The miners, dock-workers, ship’s stokers, soldiers. Men whose muscles came from hard work, who might never wear a suit and tie in their lives. Men who you’d think would kill a man like Jack if he looked at them funny. You’d be wrong.
“Okay, how about I take you away then?”
“I don’t know…I’ve got some things to do.”
“Just a few minutes. Something I need to ask you about.”
“Well, just a few minutes. Ruth, can you handle things here?”
Ruth nodded briskly and Jack flashed one of his best grins, although on second thought that might be problematic if she actually needed to answer the telephone.
“Don’t you have your tricked-out special wheels with you today?”
Rhys must have been expecting the SUV.
“I let the kids have the car today.”
“Very nice of you. What are you driving?”
“This,” he said, opening the doors of the black sedan.
“And where are we going?”
“Nowhere in particular.”
“Just driving around aimlessly.”
“Jack, I’m not one of your kids and I’ll thank you not to treat me like one. You got something to say to me, you need to come out and say it.”
“Sorry. Bad habit. The enigmatic thing. About last night…”
“You didn’t like the roast?”
“Loved the roast. If you weren’t taken I’d marry you myself.”
“Not in this country you wouldn’t.”
Jack had pulled out into traffic, which was exactly where the conversation seemed to be heading.
“Look, Jack, when I asked if you were gay, it was just, you know, I was worried about Gwen spending so much time with you and you being such a good-looking bloke.”
“But I didn’t mean anything by it. Not to insult you or anything.”
“And then I found out from Gwen…well, she says there’s something between you and that fellow in the suit.”
He’d need to remind Gwen that just because Rhys was being allowed to remember Torchwood didn’t mean he had to know every detail of their personal lives. He might as well turn the car around right now.
“So I was curious, you know, and I pushed her a little more and she said that you’re one of those fellows who’ll go with anything that moves.”
Jack looked at Rhys, who was in turn looking out the window as though embarrassed by the whole conversation, but needing to continue it as well. Oh well, all or nothing at all, he supposed.
“Actually, it’s more like anything that doesn’t move fast enough.”
There was a moment of shocked silence during which Jack was mentally cursing in several languages he’d picked up over the years. The Romanians had some particularly colourful phrases that expressed how he was feeling until he heard Rhys’ raucous chuckle followed by a sigh of relief on both their parts.
“I saw what you were doing there on the couch last night.”
“How did you feel about it?”
“A bit odd, I must say. Flattered. Angry. Confused.”
“All perfectly reasonable.”
“I mean, why me? Why would you bother with me? Assuming I wanted to be bothered with, that is. God, I can’t believe I’m even saying this. I mean I’m about to get married and I’m talking like this. It’s daft.”
“Gwen’s a lucky woman. Maybe I’m just jealous of her. Maybe I want what she has.”
“When you could have so many?”
“There’s a lot of things you don’t know about me and most of them you’re better off not knowing, but there is one thing I will tell you.”
“You’re going to tell me this doesn’t mean anything,” Rhys interrupted. “That I’m talking like this, that I was thinking about it last night when I was with Gwen after you left. That I might have been thinking about it the first time I saw you two walking on the Plas? You’re going to tell me you shag so many people it doesn’t matter who or what you go with?
Now Rhys was looking at him, voice rising in pitch, accent getting thicker with each word, face going slightly red. It was all Jack could do to concentrate on his driving. Rhys didn’t seem to have noticed that they were only blocks away from his and Gwen’s flat.
“Listen to me, Rhys, this is important. Being attracted to me doesn’t mean anything about you. It doesn’t mean you don’t love Gwen or that you’re gay or anything like that. It’s just me.”
“Do you have any idea how egotistical that sounds?”
“Better you think I’m a self-centred jerk than have doubts about yourself.”
“Any other words of wisdom to impart now that you’ve managed to drive me back to my own apartment while Gwen is safely far away, I take it?”
“Well, I don’t know how safe she is, but she won’t be around for a while.”
“Tell me you’re joking.”
The concern had taken any sparkle out of Rhys’ expression.
“Torchwood is dangerous. There’s always an element of risk, but we try to minimize it, and you’re never safe no matter what you do. Your driver found that out the other day.”
“Yeah. Poor guy. I still haven’t got over that.”
“I know. I’m sorry. If you want me to just take you back to the office…”
“I didn’t say that. You’ve come all this way and this block looks oddly familiar, so you might as well take it into the car-park.
He did just that, and then followed Rhys into the lift, thinking that you really didn’t need an alien pendant to read thoughts. All you had to do was look at the man’s posture, the mixture of apprehension and anticipation on his face. Listen to the attempt at a joke as he unlocked the door of the flat.
“Maybe there’s some left-over beef around.”
“I’m not looking for anybody’s leftovers.”
“Are you sure?”
He wondered how far Rhys would actually let him go on a first “date,” especially in the apartment he shared with Gwen. Maybe he was pushing his luck.
“Rhys, we don’t have to…”
“Don’t try to fucking back out on me now, Jack. Don’t you dare.”
“Okay, I won’t.”
He took off his coat and laid it over the back of the couch where they’d all sat last night. The couch might be an easier starting point than a trip right into the bedroom, but maybe even that was too much too soon.
“I just need to know. I know you think that every man and woman is going to just fall down at your feet, but I’ve never even kissed a man.”
“Then you should start now,” he said, pulling Rhys towards him and looking deep into Rhys' hazel eyes, caressing his cheek and then leaning forward just enough for a light brush of his lips. “How’s that?” he whispered.
“Don’t be such a girl about it, Jack,” Rhys replied, shaking his head in mock disgust, giving Jack permission to go all out and let him know exactly what a Jack Harkness kiss consisted of, including the hands cupping his face, lips and tongue pushing into Rhys’ mouth and a leg between his thighs.
Jack paused, wondering if it was too much, and instead found Rhys’ arms circling his waist, hands moving down to caress his arse. The tongue didn’t seem to faze him either, and Jack felt himself moaning appreciatively into Rhys’ mouth.
Jack thought it was Rhys talking until he recognised his own voice. This might be easier than he’d thought. If Rhys was ready to explore the other side of the street, Jack would be a willing tour-guide.
The second kiss was even better as Jack let himself explore Rhys’ mouth, nuzzle his soft lips and feel Rhys' body responding, breath quickening.
“I think there’s a bedroom around here somewhere.”
“Are you sure?” Jack didn’t want to feel like he was pushing Rhys into anything he wasn’t ready for.
“Yes, I’m positive it’s just past the kitchen. Not sure if the bed’s been made though. Gwen may be stunning at your alien stuff, but she’s not much of a housekeeper.”
“I’m sure we’ll manage.”
Jack had done it in five-star hotels and flophouses, not to mention foxholes and spaceships. The bedding was usually the least of his concerns. He loved bedrooms the way he loved offices -- so much insight into people’s lives, their very auras and aromas. Rhys and Gwen had made love in this very bed, as recently as last night. The thought was intoxicating and he revelled in it as he took off his boots and removed the rest of his clothing, grabbing the small tube he’d stuck in his pocket before letting the garments drop haphazardly to the floor.
Rhys was taking a bit more time with the clothing, facing away from Jack. He loved this bit. Like unwrapping a new gift. He could make out the motions of Rhys unbuttoning his shirt and then unbuckling his belt, perhaps dawdling a bit. Men could be so vain.
He lay down on the bed wearing nothing but a grin and waited. The trousers came down and Jack couldn’t help smiling at the sight of some rather colourful boxers before getting to see what he’d been imagining. Definitely something to hold onto there, and he felt his erection respond to the sight. Rhys also had muscular legs and as the shirt came off, Jack noticed the strength evident in his back and shoulders.
For all the softness around the middle, this was clearly a man who’d worked hard loading trucks in his youth and if he’d settled down a bit and put on a few pounds it didn’t bother Jack at all. He’d had many shapes and sizes and species, and there was more to life than the shifting standards of human attractiveness.
Speaking of shapes and sizes, Rhys had now turned around and with a rather visible swallow was moving toward the bed and… Hello, Rhys Williams. Jack blinked for just a second. For some reason he hadn’t been expecting that, although maybe he should have. No wonder Gwen was so happy at home, if she was coming home to that. Not that Jack was a size queen, but… well, well, well. Suddenly his mental plan of attack changed. Sure, he wanted to make Rhys cry out in pleasure at his first time with a man, but if he was only going to get one shot at Rhys it would be a shame to waste that.
He was completely hard now with Rhys lying next him on the bed, apparently suffering from that awkward now what? feeling, although his body seemed to know more than he did.
Jack was tempted to offer Rhys one more round of “are you sure?” but decided that would be insulting. The man was here, next to him, naked, clearly aroused, and waiting for Jack to make the next move.
He propped himself up on one elbow and started the kissing again, this time firm and confident. Rhys immediately turned toward him, wrapping his strong arms around Jack and throwing one leg over his, kissing back. There was definitely some curiosity there, but nothing shy or tentative.
Jack sighed happily into the kiss. Always surprises. New bodies, new mouths, hands that touched him in different ways, finding a different spot than previous lovers even after all this time and even if the sounds were the same, there were so many different pitches and timbres and accents.
Rhys’ voice, for instance, rising to a high-pitched keen of frustration when Jack flicked his tongue against the side of his neck or moved his hands downward to the inner thigh, nails barely skimming the soft skin.
He could have lost himself for hours in the newness of Rhys’ particular smell and responses, but they didn’t have hours. Rhys was supposed to be working and for that matter so was he, and there was always the possibility that Gwen could walk in. He wasn’t going to lie to himself that much. Gwen was still very much part of this equation. In fact the idea of her watching the whole thing, with her special wide-eyed expression at the sight of what he was doing to her fiancé, made him grind against Rhys even harder which produced a deliciously desperate panting sound in response.
See what you’re missing, Gwen?
Rhys was starting to tremble under his touch now, his cock insistently pressing against Jack’s leg. He pushed Rhys onto his back and moved down between his legs, registering the sharp anticipatory intake of breath even before he’d actually made contact. After that there was a lot of gibberish through which Jack could glean that Rhys was a religious man, or perhaps that the feeling of Jack’s mouth on his cock, tongue swirling around the head, was enough to make him believe in God.
Jack closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and gave Rhys’ balls a gentle squeeze as he pressed his lips tightly against the hard cock in his mouth.
“Oh god. Godgodohgodgod. Jesus Christ. Jesus Fucking Christ. Jack please. Oh. Oh. Oh god.”
Jack had enough experience -- okay, fine, more experience than anybody -- to know what happened next. It would be easy enough to finish Rhys off right then, but he hadn’t come here to give a quick, if brilliant, blow-job.
“Jack, please. I’m going to…oh god!”
He let Rhys slide out of his mouth, closing a firm hand around the hardness.
“Can you do something for me, Rhys?”
“What? Yes, god, anything, Jack!”
“Shh. Calm down. I know you’ve never done this before.”
“With a man, I mean.”
“Oh yeah, well, I guess, we’re sort of past that then, aren’t we?”
“You want me to do that to you? Sure. I’ll try. But dear god in heaven.”
“Yeah. I know. Actually, we can do that another time, but right now….”
“Oh my god, you want to…you want to fuck me, don’t you. Well, I can’t say I haven’t thought about it, especially after Gwen told me that’s what you do.”
Jack tried not to smirk. He wondered exactly what kind of fantasies Rhys had been having, maybe even while he was with Gwen.
“What? Oh. OH! You want me to....me?”
“Well, not if you don’t want to. I mean, if you’d rather I…”
“I didn’t say that, did I?”
It was slightly mad, but Jack had always been a risk taker. Rhys was a good man, and inexperience needn’t be a problem in this particular case. He’d already proven to have great instincts and really, what else is there?
You’re going to let a neophyte fuck you up the arse just ‘cause he’s got a few extra centimetres on your current plaything?
Shut up, John. And yes, I am.
Jack opened the lubricant and started applying it liberally to Rhys’ cock which gave it an appealing sheen and made him sigh with anticipation.
“That’s some good stuff you got there. The one we use is kind of sticky.”
It took Jack a second to register that one and when he did, his first thought was, okay, bit of extra slip and slide never hurt anyone, and his second was that Rhys might not be that much of a newcomer to this sort of thing.
“This isn’t the first time you’ve done this, is it?”
“Well, you know, Gwen. She’s a game girl. Adventuresome.”
“Then I’m in good hands, aren’t I?”
“We aim to please.”
Jack turned around and lay down on the bed grabbing a pillow and thinking that the world was full of surprises, including the unbelievably hot image of Gwen on her hands and knees on this very bed with Rhys behind her, pushing his cock in ever so slowly, making sure he didn’t hurt her, Gwen’s eyes closed tightly, her face contorting with the burn that Jack knew so well, and would never get tired of, finding the exact spot on the pain/pleasure continuum, where it started getting so good.
Gwen, you lucky bitch. Well, it’s my turn now.
He pushed himself onto his knees and felt Rhys’ fingers, slippery and inquisitive, quickly finding their goal and pushing through the resistance.
Jack grunted in satisfaction as the initial shock flooded his system, endorphins coursing through his bloodstream to alleviate the first sensation and create the second one.
“You okay there, Jack?”
“Fine. Just fine. God, Rhys. That’s great. Just don’t stop, okay?”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He got an idea of how this must usually go with Gwen and Rhys as Rhys started fucking him with the one finger rather than attempting to introduce any others, which was fine, until he reached that moment where the initial flush was wearing off and he needed more. He pushed backwards and clenched around Rhys’ finger, hopefully sending the right message. Something must have gotten through because there came the slow sliding away, leaving that temporary feeling of emptiness, followed by what could only be the head of Rhys’ cock, pushing against him.
Gwen was still hovering around the periphery of his imagination, perhaps enjoying the spectacle a little too much, certainly more than Ianto, who was attempting to pretend the whole thing wasn’t happening, and oh God, the Doctor, watching, saying his name, because there was nothing sexier than the way the Doctor said “Jack,” even when he disapproved of whatever Jack was doing. Especially then.
The Doctor wouldn’t approve of this as all.
Rhys had pushed in again, filling Jack, pushing out all the voices except his own, talking a bit of filth that left Jack nearly as breathless as that cock inside him, moving faster, sliding in and out. He angled his ass upwards slightly, experience and beginner’s luck combining so that Rhys was hitting his prostate at just the right angle on every stroke and oh god, oh god, it felt so good, so damn good.
But not as good as it felt when Rhys reached around and started fisting his cock, short hard jerks, making him gasp, moan, feel his whole body tensing, clenching and finally screaming Rhys’ name as he lost track of everything and let the powerful release take over. Somewhere far away he was spilling into Rhys’ hand and Rhys was biting his neck as he shuddered through his own orgasm, but for those few seconds he floated above it all, just a few atoms of happiness in the insanity of time and space.
Naturally, since it was this planet and this spot in history, there was barely enough time to enjoy the moment before Rhys was up and to the loo, grabbing clothes and remembering that he had to get back to work. So did Jack, of course. Saving the world. Figuring out what those green guys were really up to besides knocking over shops and freaking out police constables.
Luckily the team was still out tracking down some stragglers and not together at the Hub wondering after his whereabouts and thinking to track him down, which they’d been a little too good at doing lately.
Rhys came out of the bathroom and Jack tried to read his face for signs of anger or even worse, guilt, the most useless and most prevalent of human emotions, especially when it came to sex.
He saw confusion, but that was to be expected.
“Remember what I said. It doesn’t mean anything about you, although I gotta say, you did surprise me.”
“In a good way, I hope.”
“You’ll never know how good.”
“So what do I tell Gwen?”
“Whatever you need to. Or want to. You know her better than I do.”
Maybe that wasn’t the smartest thing to say. Rhys clearly chose to ignore it.
“Jesus, look at the time. Ruth’ll be going out of her mind. And don’t you be flirting with her any more today, you and your bloody smile.”
“You just want me all to yourself, don’t you?”
It had been a joke, but Jack found himself relieved when Rhys shook his head in disbelief.
“Do you ever just trip over that ego of yours?”
“All the time. Come on, let’s get you back to work.”
“You are just a sad wanker, aren’t you Jack?”
That didn’t take long. Jack had barely had time to arrange himself at his desk before Gwen marched in, eyes full of self-righteous anger as though she’d never even met Owen Harper, much less carried on one of the least clandestine affairs in Torchwood history, which was saying something.
“No, he’s not actually; in fact…”
“Not now, Ianto.”
“I just wanted to--”
“Not now. You don’t want to hear this. Trust me.”
He made his voice emphatic, and Ianto left, still shooting looks that could kill, if Jack could actually die.
“What did you do to my fiancé?”
Jack tried to keep the smirk off his face as his mind channelled another Jack, one he’d never met but admired greatly.
Ask not what I did to your fiancé, Gwen Cooper. Ask what your fiancé did to me.
“Did he tell you anything?”
“He didn’t have to. I swung by the office on my way to debrief Detective Swanson. Rhys wasn’t there, but I talked to Ruth. Tried to, anyway. Pretty much all I got was your name and some giggling. That was enough.”
The best defense…
“Well, whose fault is it anyway? You brought him in here. You know how I am.”
“Yes, I do, Jack. And I know what you do to people. Right now, he’s not sure if it’s worse that he did it once or that you might not want to do it again.”
She was annoyed all right, but not jealous, thank god, not jealous. There was still hope.
“I’d want to do it again,” he said softly.
Gwen treated him to the full-blown eye roll and the flared nostrils.
“Oh, I’ll bet you would. Now you know, don’t you? And you expect me to share him, is that it?”
The door was open. Just a crack, and Jack walked through it, urged on by the hint of a smile he told himself he was seeing through the anger on her face.
“Actually, I was thinking the two of you could share me.”
She leaned over his desk, looking him straight in the eye, just happening to give him a really great shot at her cleavage as well. He counted a slow five and her eyes had switched to amusement by three, with the smile breaking by four and a half.
“Then I’ll call Rhys and tell him to set another place for dinner.”