Title: One Last Time
Summary: 'The night had started innocently enough. A drink down the pub with the team. Only he'd bee wearing that shirt.' Gwen finds herself wanting Owen again.
A/N: Gwen/Owen fic set in season two, no real spoilers though.
She shouldn't be here and she knows it. She plays nervously with her hands as she waits for the lift to reach its destination It feels like she's been trapped in the small metal box for a lifetime. With his hot breath on her neck and his body pressed against her back. Her senses are invaded by his aftershave, some expensive designer make that Rhys would only ever wear on special occasions.
The night had started innocently enough. A drink down the pub with the team. Only he'd bee wearing that shirt. The blue one that Gwen had often found herself draped in as she walked around his flat. Then Rhys had phoned and he'd watched her intently as she'd lied about working late. He'd followed her to the bar and made a snide comment about most marriages ending in divorce. She's tried to slap him, but he was quicker and he caught her hand, leaning in to whisper in her ear all she had smelt was that aftershave. "Cosy." One word had changed everything. One word had destroyed months of self control.
Neither speak as they make their way to his front door, the tension between them practically crackling in the air around them like sparklers on Guy Fawkes night. He places a hand on her back as he opens the door and guides her inside. Even in the dark she knows where the coat rack stands and swerves to avoid it. She knows his apartment almost as well as her own.
"I shouldn't be here." The tears come before she can stop them and she turns away from him, trying to preserve what shred of dignity she has left. She expects some witty retort or scalding comment. She gets neither. He just stands there, staring at her with wide eyes and an almost pleading look in his eyes.
"I need this." She doesn't. She realises it now. Owen needs to fuck anything that moves because he has no one. His flat is cold and empty. No one greets him with a cuppa when he walks through the door after a long day at work.
"Rhys needs me."
"I need you." He doesn't try to hide his dependency anymore. "I need this." He looks so lost standing in front of the window, his face in shadow but his pain still painted all over it. He doesn't give her a chance to reply as he takes three short strides and stands in front of her, that damn aftershave washing over her again.
"Please." His hands are on her hips and she just wants to give in and take him where he stands. "Stay." His lips lock on to her neck and she gives out a whimper. His hands are suddenly everywhere. One under her shirt and the other working on the zipper of her jeans.
"Owen!" She gasps as he pushes her back against the wall, pinning her with his body. His lips trace soft kissed down her neck and across her collar bone as he practically tears her shirt off.
Tortuously slow he kisses his way over her breasts and down her stomach, stopping at the top of her jeans. "God, don't stop!" It's all the encouragement he needs as he slides her jeans down her legs and begins kissing her thighs. She grips his hair in her hands and tries to force his head to the place she wants put he pushes her hands away, pinning them to her sides. He looks up at her with a mix of passion and regret that just makes her want him all the more. She drops to her knees and begins kissing him like it's the last kiss they'll ever share. It probably is.
He says it with all the authority he can muster, the same tone he'd
used to giver orders after Jack disappeared. "It's not right."
She stops only because he physically stops her. He takes her hand in
his and strokes a finger over her engagement ring.
"That never stopped you before." She huffs as he averts his gaze from the ring.
"You don't want this…you don't want me."
"I wouldn't be here if I didn't!" She's sick of everybody telling her how she should feel and what she should be doing.
"I drugged you." His words sink in like a knife, twisting at her insides. She tries to reply but nothing comes out. "It was an accident!" He tries to plead her case but she doesn't want to hear it. Pushing him away she pulls her pants up and begins fastening her shirt. He just sits and watches her, waiting for her to explode.
"With what?" She had seen plenty victims of date rape drugs in her time on the force.
"It's a cologne." This was a new one. "We found it a couple of months before you joined Torchwood. It makes the wearer irresistible to whoever they spray it in front of." He stands up and leans against the wall, staring out of the all glass wall as he continues his explanation. "I was going for the blonde at the bar, but she moved just as I sprayed it…and well you came up beside me."
"So that makes it better then? You were trying to rape somebody else!" His features darken as she slaps him.
"It wouldn't be rape. She'd been hitting on me all night, she wanted it and we both knew it!" Gwen knows the blonde had been flirting with him all night and had honestly expected her to leave with Owen. That still didn't excuse his actions though.
"So why use the alien cologne?"
"Because…" The fight is gone from him now and self-pity has replaced it. "I wanted to fuck ok? And I didn't want all the little idle chitchat about what I do and shit like that!"
It was selfish and arrogant and she knows she should slap him again but most of her just wants to pounce on him and bite that pouting lower lip of his. "How would you feel?" She asks, her tone scathing. She's not just mad at him. She's mad at herself because she knows she wanted him from the minute he walked in to the pub wearing that damn blue shirt. "If I used that thing on you and all you could think of was me? Having me no matter what-"
"Welcome to my world sweetheart." He mutters bitterly and suddenly it's all so clear. The bitching and the moodiness; it had never been about Diane.
"Oh Owen." He doesn't want her pity.
"Get out." He ignores her protests and walks away, heading for his bedroom. His shirt is off before he even enters the room and he sighs, in desperate need of a cold shower.
He shivers as Gwen's warm hands wrap around his waist. "Gwen-"
"I love Rhys. I never meant to hurt him…but I don't regret what we did." His eyes close trying to fight back the tears. "You got me through the those first few months at Torchwood, I probably would have broke down if it weren't for you…but it's over Owen. You have to accept that." He nods, not trusting himself to speak.
He yelps as her hand presses against his painfully obvious erection. "This is the last time, and you're washing that stuff off first!" He grins as she begins helping him undress. It's always going to be the last time.