Characters: Jack Harkness/Alice Guppy/Emily Holyroyd
Notes: Spoileriffic for Fragments in case you're not there yet. Thanks to beta_goddess for pushing me until this passed the Squirm Test (TM).
Summary: Jack learns what it really means to be a member of Torchwood
This was a bad idea.
It would have been a bad idea on any planet in any century, but here in Cardiff, it was worse than bad, it was stupid, and he’d been stupid long enough. That’s what had brought Alice and Emily to his rooms at a time when respectable Victorian women were at home closing their eyes and thinking of England.
Of course, respectable women didn’t attack people in the street, administer torture, or kill those they perceived to be enemies of the Empire in cold blood. He understood that they were products of their time and knew precisely what would become of their precious Empire, but right now he wasn’t full of sympathy, especially considering they’d shown up without an invitation and made quick work of the lock on the door. Normally he wouldn’t mind waking up in bed with a woman on either side of him, but he’d prefer it if they were less dressed and not these particular women.
“Jack,” said Alice, making him smile almost in spite of himself. Her accent made his name sound more like Jock. “You can’t keep doing this.”
“Sleeping? I don’t do much, but I think I’m entitled to a little rest after a hard day of doing Torchwood’s dirty work.”
“You were seen dining in a pub this evening.”
“Having a drink and some food. Have those also been forbidden? I knew this era was a bit uptight, but that’s going a little far.”
Now it was Emily’s turn. “What you have in the way of food and drink is your concern. Other things you do with your mouth are ours.”
“No. We see. We don’t trust you any more than you trust us, Captain Harkness. You think you can have your dark alleys and pantry closets, but you can’t. We’re always watching.”
And he’d thought the Time Agency was paranoid.
“You liked what you saw?” he said, trying to hide his concern and annoyance with the old swagger. It wasn’t as easy as it used to be when he knew that another time and another place were near at hand. He was stuck here.
“I think Alice liked it a bit too much,” said Emily, fixing them both with one of her steely glares. “Even if you care nothing for propriety, there is always legality to think of. There are certain laws on the books that you should keep in mind.”
Of course. He’d managed to forget those laws while he was flouting them with like-minded individuals in the seedier districts of Cardiff, but as someone aspiring to respectability, he could be imprisoned and sent to hard labour for a quickie with some stud pushing a barrow.
“And how do you two stay out of gaol?” he asked pointedly, turning to Emily and earning yet another of her evil looks.
“Nothing on the books about women,” Alice replied almost too gaily. “Her Majesty refuses to believe such things might occur between ladies, so there’s no law against it.”
“So what do you suggest?” he said, pretty sure he wouldn’t like whatever it was.
Emily moved close enough for Jack to try moving away, but that brought him closer to Alice, reminding him that he was wearing only a nightshirt.
“Jack,” Emily had softened her voice. “Torchwood is a family.”
“So were the Borgias.”
“And families take care of each other.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“You’re going to have to rely on us, Jack. Torchwood is all you’ve got now. You know things that you can’t talk about with anybody else. You have needs that it’s not safe to take elsewhere. We’re here to help you.”
“I don’t want your help. Not that way…Don’t touch….me.”
Too late. She had a hand on top of his abdomen. A warm, firm hand, very close to his prick. He tried to remember his training in resisting sexual advances. He’d failed that class five times in a row.
He could hear a certain sarcastic laugh ringing in his head. You’ve got two birds trying to have it off with you and you’re fighting it? What’s the matter with you?
Just the fact that they’d tried to kill him.
That never stopped you from shagging me senseless.
Okay, it was more than that. He’d already sold his soul to Torchwood, if a man who couldn’t die still had a soul, but he’d be damned if they were getting his body as well.
Emily nodded at her colleague and Alice got up, moving to the foot of the bed. She and Emily exchanged a smile, and then Alice turned to Jack, catching his eye as she brought her hands up to the top button of her jacket.
“You don’t have to do that.”
“Oh, but she wants to. Don’t you, sweetheart?”
Jack had seen the finest erotic dancers in the galaxy, not to mention having the image of Rose Tyler in blue jeans and a Union Jack-t-shirt locked in his memory, but somehow the sight of Alice Guppy removing layers of Victorian garb was more than his body could resist, especially with Emily Holyrod’s lotion-smooth hand stroking him.
Really bad idea, he reminded himself. He’d flirted with both women the first time he met them, because that was what he did, but now he knew them and didn’t like them one bit. Jack tried desperately not to find what was being done to and for him arousing, tried to make his body behave for once in his life, and failed.
By the time Alice was down to her corset, high-topped shoes and hat, he was fully hard and straining upwards. He hated himself, but there was nothing he could do except watch as she put one finger in her mouth to wet it and then began slowly pleasuring herself in front of him.
It was too much.
“I’ll take it from here,” he growled, pushing Emily’s hand away.
“That’s a good boy,” she said sweetly, leaving him to finish as she joined her lover for a demonstration of exactly what Queen Victoria refused to believe in.
He kept his eyes open as long as he could. The show might have been for his benefit, but it was clearly something they were doing for themselves as well. The kiss was lingering and passionate, with Emily’s hand moving between Alice’s legs as the other wrapped around the back of her neck. He heard them groaning, his own sounds chiming in as he moved faster.
“Oh, Emily,” Alice gasped, and the last thing Jack saw before his eyes closed was her hat finally being knocked askew as she threw her head back.
He could still see her face, imagine her passion, imagine how good it would feel when he did fuck her, fucked both of them, went through every good-looking man and woman Torchwood had to offer.
Jack came, full of anger at himself and the women who’d put him in this position, but of course it wasn’t their fault either.
“Doctor,” he called out, because at the end, it was always about the Doctor.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Emily was kissing him on the forehead, smoothing his hair down. It was unsettlingly soothing, almost maternal. Torchwood was a family, all right. Jack thought he was going to be sick.
He wasn’t ready to talk yet, and he didn’t want to admit that he’d agreed to anything, even though they all knew what had happened.
Now Torchwood had him completely.