A/N: this was written for a challenge over on LiveJournal called the Merry Month of Masturbation, so you now know what to expect :)
Gwen smiled to herself, knowing Jack's decision would not please Owen.
"Why not?" Owen argued.
"Because," replied Jack. "I'm the Boss, and I said so."
"You're a wanker Harkness," Owen stated derisively, as he shovelled mu-shu-chicken into his mouth.
"You say that as if it's a bad thing," replied Jack, through a mouthful of szechuan. "There's nothing wrong with taking things into your own hands."
They all looked at him, with the exception of Toshiko. Gwen smiled into her plastic container of takeaway, and looked sidelong at Tosh, seeing the blush on her face at Jack's comment.
"What?" Jack asked. "Like everyone here doesn't do it!"
"Oh it's not that," Gwen interjected. "It's just we're surprised your cock has enough free space on its calendar to squeeze your hand in..."
Owen snorted, beer dribbling down his chin. It seemed Ianto's manners on the other hand were too refined for that...so he was choking on his instead. Tosh quickly jumped up and patted him hard on the back, and he settled comfortably into a coughing fit.
Jack turned a bemused expression on Gwen. "Why PC Cooper," he replied grinning. "If you'd like to have a more detailed conversation about who, or what my cock can and cannot manage to 'squeeze in'...feel free to knock on my door at any time."
It was Gwen's turn to blush now. A feeble "You wish," was all she was able to manage in reply.
"Oh yeah," said Owen laughing. "That's tellin' him!"
"Shut it Owen!" Gwen retorted scathingly, as she gathered up her container and went to the kitchenette.
Gwen jumped when she felt Jack behind her. Damn it! When is someone going to buy that bell? She swallowed as Jack moved in close, his body brushing against hers as he moved past her to lean against the sink. She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she continued to wash what was destined to be the cleanest coffee mug in all of Cardiff.
Jack held up his hands in front of him, carefully scrutinising first the palms, then turning them slowly to peer at the back.
Gwen dropped the sponge in the sink and looked at him. "What are you doing?"
"Looking at my hands," he replied distractedly.
He looked briefly at her, then back. "I think I have nice hands," he stated in an appreciative tone.
Gwen looked at them, and they were nice, really nice. Fingers long and thick, the nails blunt and always manicured, the backs broad. She hated to admit that they were kind of a secret fetish of hers. As he held them out, fingers spread, she thought of the many times she'd taken things into her own hands, as Jack had put it, while visualising his hands doing the deed instead of her own.
"In fact, I think they'd easily get a date with my dick."
Leaning her hip into the sink, Gwen smiled at him. "I apologise if I implied that your hands were hard up."
He grinned back at her. "They do have some pretty smooth moves," he assured her.
"I'm sure," she replied dryly, hoping the blush she was feeling didn't show. "What?" she asked warily, as Jack continued to look at her.
He shrugged. "I was just thinking."
She watched as he moved behind her, bringing his arms around her.
"I was just thinking," he repeated slowly, "That you should get to see them the way I do."
They really do look better from this angle, she thought as Jack held his hands out in front of her.
He laid his left hand lightly on her hip pulling her back into him. "You should get to see the way my fingers curl around," he whispered gruffly, as he dropped his right hand. Gwen felt it rest against the crotch of her jeans. She looked down to see his palm facing upwards, her eyes following as he curled his fingers, and it was easy to imagine him taking hold of himself.
Gwen noticed there was a good half inch between his thumb and forefinger. "Given yourself a good handful there you," she joked, the light tone an attempt to disguise something else.
"You think I'm exaggerating?" he asked softly.
"Are you?" she asked, not able to keep the waver from her voice this time.
"No," he replied simply.
And she believed him.
"Don't even have to think," he whispered. "They know what to do."
Her eyes fluttered closed for a moment, all the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck standing on end. She opened them again to see his fingers clench a little.
"Squeezing that bit tighter...holding firmly, but not gripping," he murmured.
There was another time he had held her like this, said similar words.
"The way the muscles shift," he continued, his voice low as he moved his hand forward.
She felt the fingers of his left hand tighten, digging into her hip.
"Pushing...pushing and squeezing until it hurts, just enough."
Gwen made a conscious effort not to moan at the roughness in his voice, his lips brushing against her skin as he talked. She watched as his hand came back to her, his fingers rippling almost imperceptibly as he moved.
"Out," he breathed, his hand mimicking his words. "And back. Out. Back...stretching, pulling, pinching..."
She didn't know when it had started, but their hips moved together, following the rhythm he had set. Gwen felt his head rest against her shoulder as their pace escalated, heard the soft curses coming from his lips, echoed by her own. His left hand massaged her hip through her jeans, as his right kept its time fisting a phantom cock, colliding with her on its backward stroke in just the right spot.
She shifted her hips, the slickness and the friction from the denim combined with the movements of Jack's hand, an overpowering sensation. Gwen bit down on her lip to stifle the groan that threatened to emerge as she came. She was vaguely aware of Jacks low grunts, muffled even more by her jacket, as his hand continued seemingly of its own accord, out...back, one more time.
Gwen moved away from him her cheeks burning, unable for the moment to look at him. Long seconds passed as she worked up the courage to turn and face him...but he was already gone.