Pairing: Jack/Owen (Includes references to other pairings and threesomes.)
Notes: Prompt from donutsweeper Jack/Owen "You've been bad"
Written for mmom, Day 21. Bitchslapping Beta by mad_jaks, most definitely needed and much appreciated. There is one major grammar error in there; totally on me. Takes place after "Everything Changes" but includes references to "Fragments."
Warnings: Jack is a bastard and alien sex spray is not rape.
Summary: Jack's reaction to a certain piece of information.
“He did what?”
Jack’s initial response to Ianto’s report regarding Owen was a mixture of amusement and rather pleasant shock.
He knew he shouldn’t be surprised. He’d brought Owen into Torchwood, strongly suspecting his new doctor came fully equipped with his own emotional baggage, and that the damage had begun long before a parasite took up residence in his fiancee’s brain.
Owen had been proving the point ever since, starting with the massive bender he’d gone on before ever showing up for work in the first place.
Given what he already knew about Owen, he had to consider the possibility that the words “alien aphrodisiac” might not have been the wisest thing to say within Owen’s hearing. On the other hand, if Ianto’s information was correct…
“Really? A man and a woman?”
After Owen’s brief affair with Suzie and its rather spectacular demise, Jack had nearly given up on the possibility of having Owen as a bedmate. He’d already held out against Jack’s advances longer than anyone currently employed at Torchwood, leading Jack to believe that Owen might be the rare case who was too dug into his heterosexual trench to be dislodged.
With this new piece of information, he now knew better, which meant Owen was back in his sights, and Jack was too good a soldier to stop until he had achieved his objective.
Once the spray had been returned, he took Owen aside for some personal encouragement.
“You really don’t need it,” he said, offering a pat on the back along with a significant look. Jack could practically hear Ianto rolling his eyes somewhere in the office, but his focus was on Owen, who met his eyes for a second and graced Jack with the thinnest hint of a smile before shrugging away from his touch.
“Hands to yourself, Captain.”
You bloody tease, Jack thought, watching him go.
Gwen accepted his offer to join Torchwood, not that Jack had doubted she would.
She wanted excitement and she wanted him, and Jack knew that combination was irresistible. He worried a little about what would happen to her “normal” life and her boyfriend, but he’d seen the spark that made her too special for the mundane world of the Cardiff Police and trusted his decision to nurture it.
He didn’t think the boyfriend would be around too long anyway. Relationships didn’t survive Torchwood.
That was a treat for the future. Right now, his mind was on Owen.
Everyone seemed to have gone home, including Ianto, leaving Jack alone in his office with the transcript of the taxi driver’s report to the Cardiff Police. Owen had apparently given him enough money to keep driving, but not enough to keep his mouth shut after the event. Hence the report of public indecency was now officially on the books and, even though there were no actual names, it was impossible to read the descriptions and not recognise Owen as one of the participants.
Exactly why Ianto had brought this information to his attention, Jack wasn’t sure, even though there’d been a palpable animosity between the two since Ianto’s unorthodox arrival. Owen found the whole thing damned suspicious and had made several snide remarks regarding Jack hiring strays based on their willingness to spread out for the boss, which Jack did have to admit wasn’t completely untrue.
Meanwhile Ianto seemed to have pinpointed Owen as the one who ran the most roughshod over Torchwood’s rules, which Ianto claimed to hold in high esteem. He didn’t seem to realise that the biggest rule-breaker at Torchwood would always be Jack himself.
If Ianto thought this incident would be the end of Owen’s Torchwood career, he’d badly miscalculated, unless he actually intended Jack to use the report for his own amusement, in which case Jack would put him down for a bonus.
Between the cab driver’s report to the police and the follow up investigation, including an interview with the bartender, it appeared that Owen had made quite a night of it. What had happened in the bar was no doubt standard procedure, at least for Owen, with the spray merely hastening what would normally be a lengthier process to its inevitable conclusion.
But the street-side altercation with the boyfriend, and Owen’s use of the spray to short-circuit it? That was brilliant. That was Torchwood thinking. That was hot.
Then the taxi, and the driver’s graphic description of what had transpired in his back seat.
Jack had to open his fly and give himself a friendly squeeze as he imagined the interior of the taxi growing warmer and the sounds that would have filled it up along with heavy breathing and sweat. He wondered if the cab driver had wanted to do the same thing, despite his purported disgust with what he'd witnessed. Maybe he really wished he could have joined in the fun. After all, who wouldn’t want to be caught up in that delightful tangle?
For Jack, near-at-hand lubricant was a necessity. He hoped the cab driver had been equally prepared as he'd watched the action in his rear-view mirror.
He’d always thought that Owen’s face, with its pale skin and dark eyes, would be beautiful when he was aroused. Until he could see it for himself, the fantasy would have to suffice.
He imagined the man and woman, inhibitions unleashed, competing to get their hands and mouths on Owen, making him groan and squirm as all that attention was focused on him, specifically his cock. Jack’s own cock was getting hard and extremely needy, throbbing in his fist, begging for more attention.
In Jack’s mind, Owen still had his eyes open. Jack forced himself to keep watching them through the filter of the mirror, as he became lost in the sounds and even the smell of the cab, rank with various pheromones and god knows what else.
He stroked harder, his pleasure melding with Owen’s and the cab driver's, and that of the couple who’d been lucky enough to share that moment, as well as whatever had happened for the rest of the night.
Jack felt his legs beginning to tremble and his toes curling inside his boots, as he thought of Owen with a hand on each of his partner’s heads, fingers twisting in their hair and his groans filling the enclosed space.
That face, that mouth and especially those sounds. Gasping, strangled moans, and probably some wonderfully foul obscenity as his need for release grew more desperate. Jack promised himself he’d hear those exact sounds from Owen in this very office. Maybe with Gwen participating as well. The fleeting notion went directly to his cock and sent him barreling off the edge, the way he sometimes imagined the jump from one of his rooftops might feel.
His own sounds, including a few obscenities and the name of the man he’d been thinking of, echoed in the empty spaces of the Hub as he felt the warmth hitting his fingers. He let his head fall backwards to revel in the sensation, and hold that last thought, of himself, Gwen and Owen, in his mind for as long as he could.
It’s good to be the head of Torchwood, he thought, able to staff it with beautiful, fucked up people, and put them together in combinations of his choice. Especially bad boys and good girls who’d do anything for their boss.
For some reason he thought of a song he’d once heard Bing Crosby sing at a USO show for the American troops being stationed near Glasgow, and sang it to himself as he cleaned up, dedicating it to his team, especially Gwen and Owen, but also Tosh, Ianto and his poor, lost Suzie.
And if that isn't love, it'll have to do
Until the real thing comes along.