Furtive
I can make you forget all about the alien beasties that lurk in the night.
Spoilers: Countrycide
Rating: NC17 (barely)
Characters: Owen/Gwen, a smidge of Jack
Disclaimer: They belong to Russell T Davies, the BBC, etc.
Notes: Meep! My first foray into Torchwood Fic. But how could I resist Meg? Much thanks to Bex and Yana for the beta.
Owen pushed her up against the glass of the empty holding cell and leaned into her. "So will you be coming over tonight?" he asked.
"I'm not sure," Gwen breathed, tilting her head so he could place tiny kisses along her neck. "Rhys is –"
"I don't want to hear about Rhys," he interrupted, kissing her full on the lips and effectively shutting her up. "I just want to know if you're coming to my place tonight. I can make you forget all about the alien beasties that lurk in the night."
"But…"
"But nothing," he told her. "My place. My bed. My cock filling you up."
And then he leaned in and kissed her again, and Gwen forgot all about Rhys, all about the Weevil in the next cell, all about anything except how Owen tasted and how good he felt and --
"Ahem."
They both jumped and turned as one to find Jack leaning against the archway.
"Am I interrupting anything?" Jack asked with a grin.
Owen recovered first. "Not so much, no," he answered with an insufferable smirk.
Gwen resisted the urge to hit him. "Just feeding the Weevil," she said, as casually as she could manage.
Jack raised an eyebrow at them. "Really?"
"Yeah. Of course. What else would we be doing down here?"
"I don't know," Jack replied, still with that wide, amused grin that indicated he knew exactly what they'd been doing. "But I might suggest that in the future you turn off the holding cell monitor if you plan to do more evening… feedings," he added as he swung around and headed back down the tunnel.
Owen started laughing and Gwen groaned, banging her head back against the brick wall in frustration. "Ouch."
He slid his hand behind her head and gently rubbed at the offended area. "Let me see if you've given yourself a concussion."
She shoved his probing fingers away. "Stop it. This is all your fault," she complained.
Owen stared at her, incredulous. "Mine? How is it mine? You were the one who came to me, who wanted me to make everything better," he said, his voice lowering hoarsely.
"Last week, at your apartment, not here at work!" she protested, albeit weakly. He really was damned attractive, in a geeky, egotistical way. Especially when he looked at her like that, like he wanted to know everything going on inside her head, like he actually could make everything else fade away.
"Work, home – it doesn't matter, Gwen. You want me," he whispered as he leaned into her again.
"Not bloody now," she grumbled, pushing him away. "Practice some better lines on the weevil, and maybe I'll reconsider later." She tossed the words over her shoulder as she headed for the exit, leaving him staring after her with a mixture of frustration and desire on his face.
"Yeah, well..." he started to call after her.
She spun on her heel, but continued walking backwards down the hallway. "Well… what?" she asked, grinning.
"Nothing. I'll catch up with you later," he mumbled.
She laughed. "Yeah, that's what I thought."
Posted by Cassie on 08:24 PM