Rating: Very NC-17
Summary: Jack really *wasn't* looking for Jonnah on the barrage that night. Shameless smut. Kinda spoiler for Adrift.
Warnings: Prostitution fantasy, very mild bdsm, rough sex.
Disclaimer: Torchwood and all involved is property of BBC and created by Russle T Davies. I am not affiliated with either of them, and this fic in no way represents their intent or vision of the show or its characters.
AN: My Very First TW Fic! Be kind? x-posted to my journal and torchwoodslash. Written for and with the help of my beautiful beta, omuse. <3
"Any reason you'd be on the barrage that night?" Gwen asked.
Jack remembered clearly the night in question, but he wasn't about to blurt it out. That was his little secret to keep. "Oh, they have this cute little coffee shack, I sometimes stop by there..."
~Seven months prior~
Jack's greatcoat swooshed as he strolled onto the barrage. The SUV was inconspicuously parked and CCTV carefully rerouted. He walked casually, scanning with his eyes, wondering where he'd find the night's entertainment. By the docks? Between the streetlamps? Staring out over the choppy waves? He smiled. Not that he was in a hurry or anything.
He kept a covert watch on the surroundings but played well the part of unconcerned citizen. In the back of his mind he noted that Ianto was getting better at keeping concealed. It took skill to avoid the Captain's trained eye, even - perhaps especially - in the dead of night.
He'd come about halfway down the barrage and was just entertaining the worry that the boy had chickened out and gone home - even if this had been his idea - when he heard a voice on his left.
"Cold night, sir?"
He turned sharply and there, leaning between two crates in a pool of dark between the lamps, he could just make out the outline of a human form. He knew the voice, the cant of the head, shape of the shoulders - he could have placed his scent on the air had they not stood so close to the bay. But he put on a predatory grin and pretended he didn't.
"Not bad," he said. "But if you're cold, what brings you out here?"
"Looking for work," he said, moving out of the shadows to the edge of the lamplight. Jack's grin went slack and his nostrils flared. Oh, but he *did* look the part. Tight, torn blue jeans that cradled every bit of him like loving hands. Boots that made satisfying clicks on the steel grating. A fitted black leather jacket, gleaming, open to reveal - Jack swallowed convulsively - a black and silver mesh top. Jack's eyes were glued to the shadow of skin between the curtains of black leather, the startling contrast where his collarbone was bare and - was it? - yes, *glittering*. When he finally dragged his gaze all the way back up to the pretty face, it was to see cheeks and lips flushed red and eyes rimmed with smoky kohl. There was glitter in his hair. Jack chuckled.
"Oh-hoho.... You are far too pretty to be out on the docks alone, this time of night." He pitched his voice low, took three deliberate steps toward his prize.
That plush mouth quirked and Jack's heart skipped. "Like I said - looking for work." A dark incubus had possessed the suited, proper tea-boy of the day and was now shining out of his dusty blue eyes. But it made it all the better that this really *was* Jack's Ianto. He wanted this. In secret, in his heart of hearts, Ianto *wanted* this, no matter how difficult it had been to get him to admit it. For Jack. All for Jack. It was all the Captain could do to stop himself from grabbing the boy and finishing this before it had quite begun.
Instead, he dragged his eyes up and down his rentboy's body once again and licked his lips. "How much?" he asked, his voice full of gravel.
"Fifty quid by mouth, a hundred any other way. Two hundred to take me home for the night."
"And how about for a kiss?" Jack asked, moving into the rentboy's personal space. Ahh, now he could smell him - rich and spicy, a little sweet.
Ianto held his ground and endured Jack's continued leering. "That," he said pointedly, "is off the table."
Surprise knocked Jack out of his reverie. The boy was standing there with his mouth all tarted up, plush and slick, and he was going to deny Jack the pleasure of a kiss? The wicked little devil!
He recovered quickly and reached into his pocket. "Well then you'd better put that mouth to another use, hadn't you?" he said, holding up a wad of cash.
Ianto reached for the notes, but Jack pulled them out of reach. "Ah ah-" he said "-no advance payment." He took advantage of Ianto's momentary over-balance to lash an arm around his waist and pull their bodies flush. The skin of his lower back was burning hot, and when Jack dug his erection into the boy's hip he was rewarded with a catch in his lungs and the momentary press of an answering hardness.
Ianto pulled his hand back slowly, looking into Jack's eyes with a smoulder, not even trying to pull further away. "C'mon then," he said after a moment. "Step into my office."
Jack reluctantly let the boy slide out of his grip and followed him back into the shadows.
Once they were safe in the nook between two crates, Jack leaned himself against one of them and tried to control his breathing. Ianto kept close, kept driving him mad with that scent, the sound of his breath. "How do you like it, Sir?" he asked, his lips close enough that Jack couldn't believe they hadn't kissed.
"Huh?" Jack cursed his lack of concentration and pulled his focus back to now. He could hear Ianto's huff of laughter.
"Do you want it quick and dirty? Or shall I make it last?" he asked, dragging his tongue over the question.
Jack played the contrasting scenarios in his mind, debating. "Slow," he said, reaching up to get his fingers in the glittering hair, encourage the boy to get on with his work. "Go slow."
"Yes Sir," he whispered, and slid to his knees.
Jack wished just then for even a sliver of light, painfully denied the sight of his tarted up *whore* of a boy licking his red lips, graceful fingers working his flies, pert nose nuzzling the flaps aside and hands extricating Jack's burning cock. He felt the night air like a sting, a slap, but the chill was chased away by hot lips and velvet tongue caressing him at the base. "Oh," he choked, his head falling back as the rentboy worked not up, but down, tasting his balls and teasing the skin with his tongue until they were drawn up tight before working back the other way. The slow drag of tongue and nose along the underside was both bliss and torture.
"You're uncut, Sir," the boy observed casually, as though remarking on the weather over tea. It took a good deal of concentration not to break character - 'of course I am you know that very well' - or burst out laughing.
"What's the matter?" he asked instead. "Never worked with a foreskin before?"
"Of course I have," Ianto replied, managing to inject a little wounded professional pride into the scoff. "I just didn't expect it of a Yank." Jack was given no chance to respond as the boy pulled the foreskin *all* the way back and plunged Jack's naked cock down his throat. He swallowed until it was nestled against a fluttering gag reflex - Jack hissed and flexed and tried not to thrust - then pulled off and used his hand to glide the foreskin up over the slick head, playing with the excess with his lips. Then he did it again.
"Ianto, stop -" Jack bit his tongue for breaking character, but the rentboy rolled with it.
"Ianto, is it?" he murmured against the head of Jack's cock. "Bit of eyecandy at work, have you? Sorry you can't have him?" The rentboy's pulls on Jack's cock tightened. "His loss," he muttered, and plunged back down to the root. Jack screwed his eyes shut and tightened his grip on the rentboy's hair. He let Jack's hips move freely, worked with Jack's rhythm, swallowed him over and over until Jack's mind went white, and he came thickly down his throat. He thrust into that pliant mouth even after the suction became painful. It was only when he got his breathing under control that he looked down - the moon had come out, and he could make out the glisten of the rentboy's eyes and his slutty mouth smeared with drool and come, Jack's slack cock still between his lips.
He pulled the rentboy's head back, then took out a handkerchief from his coat pocket with which to clean his face. He worried for a moment that this might be too intimate for the game - had half a mind to say to hell with the game, he wanted his Ianto. But he met Ianto's desperate eyes - smelled his own come on the rentboy's breath - and knew they weren't finished yet.
"Want to earn another hundred quid?" Jack asked, keeping his grip firm on the rentboy's chin. He felt him swallow.
"Whatever you like, Sir," but there was a quaver of excitement in his voice.
"Stand up," he said, and when the boy had complied he shoved him up against the wall and held him there with his body weight. He ran both hands under the leather jacket, palmed hot flesh and tweaked tender nipples - Ianto gasped - scratched with sharp nails down his back and squeezed the round ass in those jeans. "You have a gorgeous ass," he whispered.
"It's my job," the rentboy whispered. Jack palmed harder, deeper, reaching his fingertips down to dig in where he knew Ianto needed it.
"You get work often?" he asked.
"Every night," the rentboy growled, eyes squeezed tight shut. He was squirming, trapped, wriggling between the solid wall and Jack's equally solid body. Suddenly his eyes sprang open and he glared at Jack. "Are you gonna jabber all night, or are you going to fuck me?"
Jack knew a challenge when he heard one. He took a step back, aware that his re-awakening cock was still jutting from his trousers. "What do you think?" he asked. "Get those jeans off."
Ianto reached for his zipper and lowered it slowly. He wasn't trying to make a show, though Jack enjoyed it all the same. He was just being careful in releasing what had to have been a very painful erection. Jack reached in to help, sliding his hands in and shoehorning the jeans down off his hips. They wouldn't get all the way off for the boots. That was fine. Jack spun the rentboy around, catching him when he nearly got tangled in his own jeans and shoving him against the wall again. "I hope you haven't got anything, slut," Jack growled in the rentboy's ear. "Because I -" he shoved his fingers into the boy's mouth "- am gonna fuck you raw."
Ianto's groan around Jack's fingers was almost pitiful. Jack fucked the abused mouth with his fingers and rocked his deliciously sore cock between the soft cheeks for a few moments, then pulled his slick fingers out and plunged two of them into Ianto's waiting ass.
And laughed. "Liar," he spat. "This ass is *tight*." The rentboy squirmed and struggled under the brutal onslaught. Jack grinned and delivered a hard smack to one asscheek just to feel Ianto clench. "Keep still," he ordered, knowing full well that he wouldn't. "How long has it been, slut?" he continued in that rough whisper. "How hungry is your ass? How empty? How long's it been since you got *fucked*?" When the rentboy didn't reply beyond more pitiful whimpers, he delivered another smack. "Answer me!"
Ianto's keening halted while he gathered a modicum of composure. "Th-three weeks, sir," he said. Jack fed in a third finger.
"Three weeks what?"
"Three weeks since... since I last..." Ianto just squirmed and clenched for a moment, fighting an internal war. Jack had only to raise his hand and the answer came trembling out. "Since I last got fucked - in the ass, Sir!"
Jack grinned and the hand that would have struck came down for a rolling massage instead. "Good boy," he murmured. "And you need it?"
"Yesss," he whined. "Oh yes Sir. I need it." Ianto whined as Jack's fingers swirled inside him.
"You need my cock."
"Then you'll take it."
And with that, Jack pulled his fingers free and positioned himself to sink deep into the aching, hungry hole. His rentboy let out a howl, and Jack had to clamp his clean hand over his mouth. "Quiet," he said. "Last thing we need is visitors. Follow?" Ianto nodded frantically. "Good boy." And with that, Jack took firm hold of his rentboy's hips and started to move.
Ianto was dancing on the edge, and Jack knew it would not take much. He kept his hands deliberately away from the cock he knew would be burning and jutting like a bar of iron, dripping like a fountain - oh, thinking like that and he wasn't far off himself. He leaned forward as he thrust, breathing in the scent of leather and sex, Ianto and glitter. The rentboy was meeting his punishing thrusts, scrabbling his hands at the crate wall, clenching and releasing, riding him - Jack let one hip go to drag his fingertips light as silk up the whore's cock - "Oh *christ!*" He spilled against the wall, his hips squirming and quiet gasps and pants replacing the high whines. The powerful spasms and the feel of Ianto's come in his palm dragged Jack's release from him and deep into the vice of Ianto's body.
Once he'd got his brain back into his body, Jack remembered the scene. It wasn't over just yet. Jack gave a heartless chuckle, pinched the ass cheek - Ianto gave a boneless twitch - and pulled his cock none too gently from the rentboy's slick asshole. "Good work," he said, pulling out 150 quid and shoving it into the pocket of the rentboy's leather. Then he stood back and let the boy crumple to the pavement against the wall, not even having the presence of mind to cover himself. Jack wiped his hand, tucked himself away, and then, though his heart tugged him in the opposite direction, he turned on his heel and walked back out in the direction of the barrage, the lights, and the SUV.
He made it all of eight steps before he heard what he was waiting for. A small, lonely cry of "Jack-" from behind had him racing back to his Ianto's side, turning him, cupping the beautiful face to capture his lips in a blinding kiss. He smiled into it.
"So?" he asked as he helped Ianto to his feet and watched him pull up his jeans. "How was I?"
Ianto pretended to consider, though the flush in his cheeks spoke volumes. "Decent, Sir," he said. "Though a bit too considerate. I don't think it's customary for a John to wipe their whore's mouth for them."
Jack played affronted. "Excuse me? A John does precisely what he likes with his whore's mouth, thank you very much." Ianto rolled his eyes at him, and Jack had to bring him close for another kiss, holding his chin and nuzzling his nose. "Maybe I just wanted to hear you say it."
"Say what?" There was still a light in those stormy eyes, the makeup beautifully smudged, debauchedly ruined.
"That you needed to get fucked," Jack said with a grin, not for a moment buying the innocent routine. "Little slut," he added, giving Ianto's ass one more sound pinch. Ianto jumped and laughed at him, and tried to squirm away, but Jack just grabbed the front of the leather and pulled him in to delve between Ianto's lips. He traced the teeth and played with the tongue, reclaiming what he'd been denied.
"C'mon," Jack said. "Let's get you home."
"That'll be two hundred quid."