Jack Wakes - Chapter 9
by Gracefultree
A/N: Warnings for sex and mild BDSM in this chapter. Enjoy!
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My flat smelled like cleanser and furniture polish, roasting chicken and rosemary. I felt a relaxed smile bloom on my face at the scent of the herb. Ianto had stayed! And he'd cooked for me, like he's said he would. It's hard to describe how touched I was in that moment, and not just because no one had cooked for me in years. I felt warmth building in my chest when I thought of the effort he'd gone through for me. He'd cleaned the flat, too, which I hadn't expected. (Knowing him as I do now, I would have.)
Ianto greeted me from the kitchen, calling a cheery hello. I joined him there and kissed him, slipping my arms around his waist while his settled around my neck very naturally and with absolutely no hesitation. Dressed in jeans and a red t-shirt and barefoot, he smelled like he'd just gotten out of the shower. I kissed him harder, thrusting my tongue into his mouth, seeking a taste of him. He groaned when our lips parted.
"There's twenty minutes until dinner's ready," he said breathlessly. Before I could make a lewd comment or suggest an activity, he'd pressed himself up against me so I could feel his swelling cock. "That's enough time for a quick shag, yeah?" he whispered, his breath hot on my ear, sending blood to my groin instantly. I had him on his back on the sofa, both of us naked, and me thrusting into him within minutes. He moaned and panted and demanded more. He was turning into a very vocal lover, and I adored it!
"My mother used to grow rosemary in our kitchen when I was a child," I told him over dinner. "When the sun hit the window in the afternoon, it would brighten the leaves and make the whole house smell of it."
"My mum wasn't much of a cook," he replied. "Did yours use rosemary a lot in her dishes?"
"Yeah. It reminds me of home."
"You miss her," he commented.
"It's been a long time since I've seen my family," I muttered, closing off that line of thought. "Where did you learn to cook? This is delicious, by the way."
"I worked in a restaurant for a while," he answered, looking down at his food.
"As a busboy." His head shot up, his eyes wide with surprise. "I read your file, remember?" We ate in awkward silence for a moment. "So? Where did you learn to cook this well?"
"Lisa and I cooked together," he whispered, staring at his food again. His hands started shaking. I reached over and covered them with mine. He took a deep shuddering breath and let it out quickly. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be this upset… I shouldn't even be here… I shouldn't be doing what we've been doing…"
"Nothing to be sorry about," I said softly. "I know what it's like to lose a lover. People mourn in different ways, and yours is no less valid than anyone else's."
He looked up at me again, pulling one of his hands free to wipe at his tears. "I think you mean it," he murmured.
"Where I come from, having sex with someone new soon after a loved one has died isn't stigmatized. It can be a way of letting go. A way of celebrating that you're still alive. By being with a man, for you, it could be about mourning."
"I lost her, but since I'm shagging a guy it's OK?" he asked, snorting derisively.
"I'm not saying that's all of it. But it could be part. I've been on both sides of this particular situation before. You won't hear me say anything against you for it."
"Maybe not, but I still can't tell my sister."
"She's a product of this time, as are you," I said philosophically. "I won't be offended if you want to end it because you're not over her yet," I added, while internally I cursed myself for giving him the opportunity to beg off. I really didn't want him to, and I knew it even before I gave him the option. Still, I wasn't one for coercion, and I wanted him to be with me because he wanted to be with me.
We finished our dinner in silence after that, both of us lost in thought. I cleared the table and did dishes while he made coffee, the atmosphere between us still warm despite the dangling offer I'd made. We settled onto the sofa with our mugs and he curled against my side, cuddling, almost, his head resting on my shoulder and my arm around him.
"I don't want to stop being with you like this," he said into the silence. "But I want to talk about something."
"All right. What's on your mind?"
"I still want to work for you," he stated.
I paused for a minute to finish my coffee before answering. "I don't sleep with people who work for me," I told him simply. I set down my mug next to me.
"So it's either work for you and give up having sex with you, or have sex, but give up on getting the job?" he clarified. "May I ask why?"
"If my loyalty is to you as a lover, I can't be objective as your boss," I explained, thinking that this was obvious. And at a place like Torchwood, me losing my objectivity could get people hurt or killed. Better be very clear. "And I don't want to be accused of harassment." Then, because I can't stop flirting or creating innuendo, I added, "Unless we're doing a kinky scene of some kind. I bet you could get me hard just calling me 'sir' with that sexy accent of yours." We had talked about that kind of thing the night before, after all, and I thought it would be interesting to try. Maybe now was the time?
"What about hiring a former lover?" he persisted, and now I was starting to get annoyed. Why was it so important to him that he work for me? Was this part of whatever secret he was hiding? Was it some way of staying close to his dead girlfriend, by continuing to work for the organization where they met, the organization that got her killed? Was it because Torchwood was all he knew now? I would teach him of other things. I would give him a different life, I promised myself.
"Never hired one before," I barked, more rudely than I expected to sound. Still, I didn't need this. I didn't want to lose him as a lover, not now that we'd been together a few times. He was just as quick to take to it as I'd thought he'd be, and from the few actual conversations we'd had, it seemed like he'd be able to give me some of the emotional support I was craving. I knew I'd be able to give him just as much.
"Maybe now's the time to try it," he suggested.
"You'd give up sex with me for a job?" I demanded, my temper flaring out of control. I slammed a hand down on the end table, rocking the coffee mug. I shoved him away from me. How could he insult me like this? Me? I'd never had a lover want to leave me before I was ready to let them go, and I didn't like it. There was more to this Ianto Jones than I knew, and even as he made me angry, I wanted to know more. I wanted to know everything about him. Every fear, every joy, every turn-on, every little bit of history in his little short life.
"I need the job. I need health benefits," he said.
"We have a national health care system!" I shouted, standing.
"I still need the job."
"You're on thin ice tonight, Jones," I growled, letting him know just how angry I was. Suddenly, I could smell his desire in the air and knew I'd have a way to distract him. I touched my lips with a finger, adopting a contemplative stance. "You want a job?" I asked. "Let's see how you take orders in a little scene first, shall we? On your knees!"
He blinked in surprise for a moment before he slipped off the couch and knelt before me. I kicked the coffee table out of the way. He raised his eyebrow in question, waiting for the next order.
"Suck it," I told him.
"You'll give me a job if I do this?" he asked as he undid my belt and fly.
"No, we're doing a scene," I reminded him. "I'll be your boss, and you'll be the innocent intern I corrupt with my inappropriate sexual demands." His hands faltered pulling out my cock. "No?" I asked kindly, running my fingers through his hair. "Not ready for a scene just yet?"
"It's — It's not that, s- sir," he whispered, his voice higher than usual, nervous and stuttering. I could almost see him falling into character. "I've just never —" He broke off and looked down and away from me, a picture of embarrassed innocence. "I've just never done anything like that before." He looked at me through his eyelashes, and I was amazed at the transformation of his features. He looked half his actual age and about ready to pass out. "I've never seen such a large cock before," he added, stroking it fully-hard. "It scares me."
"It also excites you, though," I commented, tapping his obvious erection with the toe of my stocking-clad foot. As I pressed against him, I felt his cock moving against my foot, testing the confinement of the jeans. "You're drooling."
"What are you going to do with me, sir?" he asked, wiping at the drool. (He wasn't actually drooling, but he played along, which whetted my appetite for him even more.)
I grabbed his collar and dragged him to his feet. "I'm going to fuck you harder than you've ever been fucked in your entire life, boy," I growled low in my throat, a threat in my voice. His scent spiked higher in the air. Oh, he was liking this! I let go and watched him stumble back to his knees. "Now start sucking, or I'm going to strip you naked and spank you for every second you're making me wait."
He swallowed audibly and got to work. Little did he know I was going to spank him anyway.
