Torchwood/Dr Who - fic - And If I Joined The Social Whirl, Jack et al, NC-17
This was a gap that needed filling in, in Then I Would Have My Own Bordellos. I used the following prompt, from lgbtfest:
1486 - Torchwood, Jack Harkness, Jack's life among the rentboys and ruffs of nineteenth-century Cardiff, as client, co-worker or fellow-traveler.
Title - And If I Joined The Social Whirl
Author - laurab1
Characters/pairings - Jack, Nine, Rose, Jack/OMCs, Jack/John/OFC, Emily, Alice, OMCs, OFCs
Rating - 18/NC-17 (explicit m/m sex)
Length - approx 1400 words
Spoilers - to TW 2.12 Fragments
Summary - How Jack got to the place in his life where could he set up Tempus Fugit
Disclaimer - anyone you recognise in this is not mine
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
And If I Joined The Social Whirl
by Laura
1869. 1869. The nineteenth century.
At least he’s on Earth. That’s surprisingly little consolation, though. And the sheer irony of landing in Cardiff, of all places, nearly makes him laugh.
“I wanted 2006, you stupid freaking piece of crap!” Jack berates his vortex manipulator, the teleport and time travel functions now burnt out and completely useless. “How the hell am I gonna find them, now?”
Frustrated, he leans against a rough brick wall, to prevent himself from banging his head against it, instead. It’s snowing, too, and his thin clothes are very little protection against the cold. Wrapping his arms around himself, feeling sad, lost and incredibly alone, Jack sinks to the ground, and begins to cry.
He’s out of time and place, which wouldn’t normally be a problem. But with nobody, and nothing, it is. He has no money, either, what the hell is he gonna do?
“Sir? Are you all right?” a Welsh voice asks him.
He hadn’t even heard the guy’s approaching footsteps, he was wallowing so deep in his misery. Angry with himself at such a basic failure of judgment, Jack wipes his eyes with his hands, and looks up. Even in the darkness, punctuated only by the light of streetlamps, he can see he’s being spoken to by a cute young man.
And that’s the trigger. Hell, that’s always the trigger. He might be alone, but he has possessions, and he has many sure-fire ways for making money.
He’s Captain Jack Harkness. He used to be a Time Agent, and he’s still a conman. He might have made him a better man, but the Doctor didn’t manage to breed that out of him. (And, actually, his skills had got all three of them out of more than one dangerous situation.) He has his looks, his body and his vast range of experience, both sexual and otherwise. Jack pulls himself up.
“Yeah,” he says, plastering on a smile, looking at the guy. “I am, thank you.” Maybe he could start making some money, right here. “Think I’d be even better if you bought me a drink, though,” he says, trying on a seductive smile.
The guy smiles back. “There’s a pub just around the corner, they’ll still be open.”
“That’s wonderful.” Introduction time, then. “Captain Jack Harkness, by the way. And who are you?” He offers his hand.
“Gethin Davies,” the guy says, shaking it.
“Nice to meet you, Gethin Davies.” At Jack’s tone, Gethin’s pulse starts to race. Wondering why that would be the case, he comes to one conclusion. But just who’s hustling whom, here? Jack suddenly, rather bizarrely, feels a little awkward and guilty. “Gethin, hey, listen, I have no money at all,” he softly says, carefully taking his hand out of the grasp.
Gethin is silent for several seconds, before taking a very deep breath. “You’d still like to sleep with me, though, wouldn’t you, Captain?” he says, in his own attempt at seductive.
Jack’s never one to turn down an offer of sex, but Gethin Davies is very new indeed at this very old game, he can hear. He needs someone to teach him the rules. Because he is cute, he’ll give the kid that. And so he needs to learn the rules quick as hell, or he’s gonna be in over his head, and in a whole heap of trouble.
And Jack needs to consult his VM to see just how illegal this all currently is.
“Let’s have that drink first. Then we’ll see.” Planting his hand on Gethin’s back, he encourages him along with a gentle push. “What’s the pub called?”
“The Golden Cross. It’s where the sailors go.”
“Sounds like just my kinda place!” Jack replies, grinning.
***
There are loads of girls with very little on in The Golden Cross. Jack’s reminded of the amazing threesome he and John had with Isabella, a beautiful Spanish girl, in a Californian saloon, June of 1855. Oh, did she know some good moves.
Gethin buys them each a pint of some kind of beer, and they talk. Jack learns Gethin is twenty one and has lived in Cardiff all his life. He’s been renting for nearly three months. Jack sneaks a look at his VM, and very easily avoids telling the kid much about himself.
After an hour or so in the warm and welcoming atmosphere of the pub, Gethin reaches out, and runs his fingers slowly across Jack’s knuckles. Jack looks at him, waits for the question.
“Would you like to come back to my house, Jack?” he whispers.
Jack risks taking the kid’s hand in his, bringing it to his lips, and kissing it. “Yeah, Gethin,” he says. “I would like that very much.”
***
So they go to his house; seconds after they’re through the front door, Jack has Gethin slammed up against the wall, lips locked to his. Yeah, kissing’s not normally part of the game, but Jack absolutely adores mouths, lips and tongues, so he’s always ignored that particular rule, whenever he’s done this.
Needing to breathe, they separate, and he asks, “What do you want, Gethin? Want me to suck you off?”
“I want to suck you off, first, Captain.”
Gethin’s tone tells Jack that he’s gonna have to take the back seat, here, for a while. Well, that’s nothing new. He just wishes he was still taking the back seat somewhere else, far, far away from here. “Bedroom?” Jack says.
“This way.”
Gethin leads him there, strips off Jack’s leather trousers, and gets him on the bed. They kiss a little more, before Gethin takes Jack’s cock in his mouth. It’s been too long since someone did this to him (last time was on Vegas Seven, and hell, did he have to do a lot of persuading, to get the Doctor to take them to a pleasure planet); Jack sighs deeply, in bliss and pleasure.
This kid might be new, but he’s kinda good. Jack’s soon hard, and then coming.
“Would you like me to suck you off now, Gethin?” he asks, when he can speak.
“Yes, Jack,” he says, undoing his trousers, repositioning the two of them on the bed.
From his new place, Jack looks up at him, then puts his lips around Gethin’s cock, and begins to suck, lick, stroke, kiss. Within a minute, he’s got the kid moaning. Jack smiles around the cock in his mouth, and using a hum, he’s got him coming. Pulling off, moving up the bed, he watches Gethin get his breath back.
When it looks like he’ll listen, Jack says, “Gethin, anyone told you the rules of this game, yet?”
“Some of them.”
And Jack suspects he’s only been told how to suck off his clients, nothing more. Which makes anything he imparts to Gethin even more important. “Well, I’ll tell you what I know, too, then.”
“All right,” he replies.
“Protect yourself, in every way possible. Your safety is the most important thing. Don’t go off with a client if you’re unsure about them in any way,” Jack says, ticking off the advice on his fingers.
“And don’t go getting syphilis,” Gethin adds. “I do know that one. But how do you know the others, Jack?”
“Let’s just say I’ve been around, Gethin. I’ve been around a hell of a lot.”
The kid nods, and Jack can see he’s making a decision. “You can sleep here tonight, Jack. I’ll take you to Bute Street, tomorrow.”
“What’s in Bute Street, Gethin Davies?”
“More renters, Captain Harkness. I reckon quite a few of them could do with taking your advice.”
***
And that was how Jack got to know Cardiff’s lowlife, how he got to spend his first thirty years among them, making money with them, advising them, protecting them.
Along the way, he learned he couldn’t die, and in 1899, that brought him to the attention of a pair of mad women and their mad organisation. After watching one of the women kill an alien, Jack didn’t join Torchwood, he just went straight back to his friends.
Five years later, Jack’s advice and protection turned into Tempus Fugit, the best bordello in town. He put the word out on Bute Street, it got around, and all his friends, and more, came to him, to be protected by the Captain, like he’d promised. He got doxies, rent boys, queens, escorts, gigolos, drag artists, bisexuals, queers, lesbians, homosexual men.
The beautiful people (and any aliens he happened upon, before Torchwood did) of early twentieth century Cardiff were his, and he couldn’t have been happier.
-end-
A/N - I’m very sorry, but Jack hasn’t told me any more about him, John and Isabella, yet. If he does, you’ll get that story in full ;)
cross
torch_wood
torchwood_fic
torchwood_decaf
dwfiction
galatic_conman
omni_fiction
tw_history
1486 - Torchwood, Jack Harkness, Jack's life among the rentboys and ruffs of nineteenth-century Cardiff, as client, co-worker or fellow-traveler.
Title - And If I Joined The Social Whirl
Author - laurab1
Characters/pairings - Jack, Nine, Rose, Jack/OMCs, Jack/John/OFC, Emily, Alice, OMCs, OFCs
Rating - 18/NC-17 (explicit m/m sex)
Length - approx 1400 words
Spoilers - to TW 2.12 Fragments
Summary - How Jack got to the place in his life where could he set up Tempus Fugit
Disclaimer - anyone you recognise in this is not mine
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
And If I Joined The Social Whirl
by Laura
1869. 1869. The nineteenth century.
At least he’s on Earth. That’s surprisingly little consolation, though. And the sheer irony of landing in Cardiff, of all places, nearly makes him laugh.
“I wanted 2006, you stupid freaking piece of crap!” Jack berates his vortex manipulator, the teleport and time travel functions now burnt out and completely useless. “How the hell am I gonna find them, now?”
Frustrated, he leans against a rough brick wall, to prevent himself from banging his head against it, instead. It’s snowing, too, and his thin clothes are very little protection against the cold. Wrapping his arms around himself, feeling sad, lost and incredibly alone, Jack sinks to the ground, and begins to cry.
He’s out of time and place, which wouldn’t normally be a problem. But with nobody, and nothing, it is. He has no money, either, what the hell is he gonna do?
“Sir? Are you all right?” a Welsh voice asks him.
He hadn’t even heard the guy’s approaching footsteps, he was wallowing so deep in his misery. Angry with himself at such a basic failure of judgment, Jack wipes his eyes with his hands, and looks up. Even in the darkness, punctuated only by the light of streetlamps, he can see he’s being spoken to by a cute young man.
And that’s the trigger. Hell, that’s always the trigger. He might be alone, but he has possessions, and he has many sure-fire ways for making money.
He’s Captain Jack Harkness. He used to be a Time Agent, and he’s still a conman. He might have made him a better man, but the Doctor didn’t manage to breed that out of him. (And, actually, his skills had got all three of them out of more than one dangerous situation.) He has his looks, his body and his vast range of experience, both sexual and otherwise. Jack pulls himself up.
“Yeah,” he says, plastering on a smile, looking at the guy. “I am, thank you.” Maybe he could start making some money, right here. “Think I’d be even better if you bought me a drink, though,” he says, trying on a seductive smile.
The guy smiles back. “There’s a pub just around the corner, they’ll still be open.”
“That’s wonderful.” Introduction time, then. “Captain Jack Harkness, by the way. And who are you?” He offers his hand.
“Gethin Davies,” the guy says, shaking it.
“Nice to meet you, Gethin Davies.” At Jack’s tone, Gethin’s pulse starts to race. Wondering why that would be the case, he comes to one conclusion. But just who’s hustling whom, here? Jack suddenly, rather bizarrely, feels a little awkward and guilty. “Gethin, hey, listen, I have no money at all,” he softly says, carefully taking his hand out of the grasp.
Gethin is silent for several seconds, before taking a very deep breath. “You’d still like to sleep with me, though, wouldn’t you, Captain?” he says, in his own attempt at seductive.
Jack’s never one to turn down an offer of sex, but Gethin Davies is very new indeed at this very old game, he can hear. He needs someone to teach him the rules. Because he is cute, he’ll give the kid that. And so he needs to learn the rules quick as hell, or he’s gonna be in over his head, and in a whole heap of trouble.
And Jack needs to consult his VM to see just how illegal this all currently is.
“Let’s have that drink first. Then we’ll see.” Planting his hand on Gethin’s back, he encourages him along with a gentle push. “What’s the pub called?”
“The Golden Cross. It’s where the sailors go.”
“Sounds like just my kinda place!” Jack replies, grinning.
***
There are loads of girls with very little on in The Golden Cross. Jack’s reminded of the amazing threesome he and John had with Isabella, a beautiful Spanish girl, in a Californian saloon, June of 1855. Oh, did she know some good moves.
Gethin buys them each a pint of some kind of beer, and they talk. Jack learns Gethin is twenty one and has lived in Cardiff all his life. He’s been renting for nearly three months. Jack sneaks a look at his VM, and very easily avoids telling the kid much about himself.
After an hour or so in the warm and welcoming atmosphere of the pub, Gethin reaches out, and runs his fingers slowly across Jack’s knuckles. Jack looks at him, waits for the question.
“Would you like to come back to my house, Jack?” he whispers.
Jack risks taking the kid’s hand in his, bringing it to his lips, and kissing it. “Yeah, Gethin,” he says. “I would like that very much.”
***
So they go to his house; seconds after they’re through the front door, Jack has Gethin slammed up against the wall, lips locked to his. Yeah, kissing’s not normally part of the game, but Jack absolutely adores mouths, lips and tongues, so he’s always ignored that particular rule, whenever he’s done this.
Needing to breathe, they separate, and he asks, “What do you want, Gethin? Want me to suck you off?”
“I want to suck you off, first, Captain.”
Gethin’s tone tells Jack that he’s gonna have to take the back seat, here, for a while. Well, that’s nothing new. He just wishes he was still taking the back seat somewhere else, far, far away from here. “Bedroom?” Jack says.
“This way.”
Gethin leads him there, strips off Jack’s leather trousers, and gets him on the bed. They kiss a little more, before Gethin takes Jack’s cock in his mouth. It’s been too long since someone did this to him (last time was on Vegas Seven, and hell, did he have to do a lot of persuading, to get the Doctor to take them to a pleasure planet); Jack sighs deeply, in bliss and pleasure.
This kid might be new, but he’s kinda good. Jack’s soon hard, and then coming.
“Would you like me to suck you off now, Gethin?” he asks, when he can speak.
“Yes, Jack,” he says, undoing his trousers, repositioning the two of them on the bed.
From his new place, Jack looks up at him, then puts his lips around Gethin’s cock, and begins to suck, lick, stroke, kiss. Within a minute, he’s got the kid moaning. Jack smiles around the cock in his mouth, and using a hum, he’s got him coming. Pulling off, moving up the bed, he watches Gethin get his breath back.
When it looks like he’ll listen, Jack says, “Gethin, anyone told you the rules of this game, yet?”
“Some of them.”
And Jack suspects he’s only been told how to suck off his clients, nothing more. Which makes anything he imparts to Gethin even more important. “Well, I’ll tell you what I know, too, then.”
“All right,” he replies.
“Protect yourself, in every way possible. Your safety is the most important thing. Don’t go off with a client if you’re unsure about them in any way,” Jack says, ticking off the advice on his fingers.
“And don’t go getting syphilis,” Gethin adds. “I do know that one. But how do you know the others, Jack?”
“Let’s just say I’ve been around, Gethin. I’ve been around a hell of a lot.”
The kid nods, and Jack can see he’s making a decision. “You can sleep here tonight, Jack. I’ll take you to Bute Street, tomorrow.”
“What’s in Bute Street, Gethin Davies?”
“More renters, Captain Harkness. I reckon quite a few of them could do with taking your advice.”
***
And that was how Jack got to know Cardiff’s lowlife, how he got to spend his first thirty years among them, making money with them, advising them, protecting them.
Along the way, he learned he couldn’t die, and in 1899, that brought him to the attention of a pair of mad women and their mad organisation. After watching one of the women kill an alien, Jack didn’t join Torchwood, he just went straight back to his friends.
Five years later, Jack’s advice and protection turned into Tempus Fugit, the best bordello in town. He put the word out on Bute Street, it got around, and all his friends, and more, came to him, to be protected by the Captain, like he’d promised. He got doxies, rent boys, queens, escorts, gigolos, drag artists, bisexuals, queers, lesbians, homosexual men.
The beautiful people (and any aliens he happened upon, before Torchwood did) of early twentieth century Cardiff were his, and he couldn’t have been happier.
-end-
A/N - I’m very sorry, but Jack hasn’t told me any more about him, John and Isabella, yet. If he does, you’ll get that story in full ;)
cross
torch_wood
torchwood_fic
torchwood_decaf
dwfiction
galatic_conman
omni_fiction
tw_history