Fandom: Torchwood
Pairings: Jack/Gwen Jack/OMC/OFC
Rating: NC17
Wordcount: 1080
Notes: Icon Prompt from
ebineez01. Also inspired by This rant. Checked for typos by 
strawberrytatoo. Remaining glitches belong to me. Takes place some time after Something Borrowed. Warning: Contains involuntary exhibitionism, as well as voyeurism and hot talk.
Summary: Jack is a slut; Gwen loves him for it.
“Jack Harkness, you are such a slut,” Gwen said, showing her warmest smile as Jack returned to the SUV.
Why did those words sound so different coming from her? The last time he’d heard them they’d been uttered in a mixture of rage and disgust, as they had so many times in the past. He’d shrugged and grinned, as usual, pointing out, as he’d been telling various wives and stray lovers for over a hundred years, that if you don’t want to see certain things, you should learn to knock.
Of course it wasn’t just sweetness that lit up Gwen’s face. Jack had been in the bar, chatting up a couple and then moving the action into the loo, all for her benefit. He’d used a combination of the contact lenses, and an open mike in his ear-piece to convey the whole scene directly to the SUV console.
Even when he had one hand down the girl’s blouse, making her moan as he tweaked her nipples while the man was rubbing himself against Jack’s arse, at least part of Jack’s thoughts had been back with Gwen, knowing she was listening, watching, and touching herself.
He still wanted Gwen; wanted to fuck her as badly as he did any man or woman who managed to hold out against one of his protracted charm offensives. However, as consolation prizes went, this wasn’t bad. Besides, the more time Gwen spent getting off on watching him in action, the better the chances she’d have to give in and experience the real thing for herself.
“Did you save some of that for me?” he asked, staring pointedly at her crotch. By unspoken agreement, Gwen always kept her jeans on until Jack was there in the flesh. Jack revelled in knowing how frustrating it was for her to listen to him panting or groaning, telling some strangers what he’d like to do them, which was really what he wanted to do to her. He could practically smell how turned on she was.
She nodded, and undid her jeans, pushing them down just enough for her to sink a few fingers inside, just as Jack would have loved to push his dick into her, filling her up with his renewed passion.
The most he could do was open his zip and pull his cock out, tacitly reminding her that he’d already come once in the bar and was ready to go again. Could her precious Rhys do that, he wondered? Not that he’d ever say it. They didn’t talk about Rhys since the wedding, and Jack didn’t need to ask about the lack of satisfaction at Chez Williams because Gwen was here, with him now, doing the best she could for all of them, even if it wasn’t nearly enough.
“What was she like, Jack?” Gwen asked, her voice getting rough, “How did it feel when she sucked you off?”
Jack recreated the scene in his mind, throwing in a little extra for Gwen’s enjoyment. He’d figured out a couple of her kinks, and knew just how to play to them.
“It was great. She had a hot little cocksucker mouth, and her boyfriend kept urging her on, telling her to take more, telling me to fuck her face. I was worried it might be too much, but she kept looking up at us, wanting to make both of us happy, watching her boyfriend dry humping me, until I shot my load right down her throat.”
It hadn’t been exactly like that but saying it made it real for him and Gwen. He watched her close her eyes, seeing the whole thing, feeling his cock going deep in her throat and proudly knowing that she could take it.
Jack felt his own balls tightening as he imagined Gwen, tonight damn it, finally giving in to what she wanted instead of the vestige of fidelity she felt obliged to live up to. She was moving his hand out of the way, replacing it with her own and bending over to take him in her mouth. So sweet; so hot. A little piece of heaven.
He heard Gwen moan, with that strangled little whimper that he knew meant she was coming, but it sounded so far away, because his own climax was drowning out everything else. For those few moments, there was only his cock and his fantasy of Gwen; nothing else mattered.
“Oh, Jack,” she half-sighed, half-whimpered, and Jack came back to reality feeling like he’d just got home from a good long trip in time and space.
Gwen leant against him and he gently stroked her hair. His fondest wish for Gwen was that she would survive long enough for humanity’s great jump into the stars. She wouldn’t though. Bowie Base wouldn’t be built for another fifty years. By the time colonies were established, Gwen would be an old woman, if she managed to survive Torchwood that long.
She’d never know what it was like to live off-world in his time, free of taboos and inhibitions, unless of course the Doctor came back and took them both…
That was too much to hope for and Jack knew better than to let himself dwell on it for too long.
“Come on, sweetheart, let’s get you home. “ This was the last part of their dates, and silly though it was, the part he loved the best, if you didn’t count fucking strangers and seeing Gwen’s face when she came. OK, he pretty much loved the whole thing, although he’d still rather be able make love to Gwen properly. Then they go into the bars together. He knew she’d love threesomes as much as he did. Maybe they could even convince their co-worker…
Yeah, right. The Doctor would take them all back to Boeshane before that happened.
“OK,” she agreed, failing to conceal a little smirk. She knew what was coming.
“Unless you want to…you know?”
He raised his eyebrows provocatively.
“All right, just this one last time.”
It was a game, a microcosm of their bizarre “affair” and the way she always acquiesced made him believe that she’d eventually give in the other way as well. He could wait. Jack had patience and Gwen was only human.
“Great. There’s a new building near the shopping centre.”
“How big is it?” she asked, emphasizing the innuendo in the words.
“Gwen Cooper,” he replied, echoing her previous tone right down to the Welsh lilt. “You are such a size queen.”