Captain Jack Harkness frowned in disapproval as Peter Vincent downed yet another glass of Midori. "You drink too much," he said.
"Yeah, I do," Peter grinned cheekily and poured another glass. Little bastard. He knew he was cute. "But you'll put up with it because you fancy me."
Jack said nothing. He gave Peter his patented Jack Harkness smile. "So, you think it over yet? You gonna come to work for me?"
"You think I'm going to say yes without checking you out first?"
"You checked me out pretty thoroughly last night in bed," Jack grinned. "Didn't hear you complaining."
"I didn't hear you complaining either," Peter countered.
"Oh, it gets better. Believe me, it gets much better. Once you've learned a little more. You're good…for someone who hasn't had many men."
"How—how did you know?"
"Trust me, I've had plenty of experience with both sexes…and then some."
"What the hell does that mean?"
"You don't honestly think I learned all that from just fucking humans, do you? I told you, I hunt aliens. Fucked more than a few as well."
"You fuck aliens?"
"Did I stutter? Still, you're a natural for a guy that's practically a virgin where men are concerned."
"You fuck aliens."
"Is that so hard to believe for a guy who impales vampires?" Jack said. "Speaking of impaling," Jack grabbed him around the waist and pulled him down onto his lap. "Care for seconds? You do have the cutest, most fucksome little ass."
Peter squirmed out of his grip. "And if you want it, maybe you should do something to deserve it."
"Show me where you work," Peter replied.
"Work for me," Jack said. "I can protect you."
"I think I can protect myself."
"Really? Because you were being stalked last night."
Peter gave a sharp intake of breath.
Jack chuckled. "And you didn't know," Jack said. "You didn't know because you drink too much. Still want to play hard to get?"
"Fuck," Peter said. He weighed his options. He believed Jack when he said he could protect him. Because as much as he liked Jack, there was something just under that charming exterior that said he could be a very dangerous man. But not to him. Not to Peter. Still… "I dunno," he said and took another drink.
"Tell you what," he said. "Come with me to Cardiff. For you, I'll let you have a little look-see around. Then you can make up your mind."
Peter looked up and gawked. "So…this is the Hub?"
"Home, sweet home," Jack said. "Gwen, Ianto, meet Peter Vincent. He might just wind up as a new team member."
A loud screech caught Peter's attention. He looked up. "Bloody hell!"
"That's our pteredactyl, Myfanwy. Sort of our guard dog, you could say. Actually she's a pteranodon. Fell through the rift. Ianto and I took her in. I think she's kinda cute. Wanna see an alien? Right this way. We call them weevils."
Too much. It was all too much, and Peter needed a drink.
"So," Jack said cheerfully. "You want to sign up?"
"I don't know. Can we talk it over with a drink?" Peter said, running his hand through his hair.
"I said you drink too much," Jack said.
"That's none of your fucking business," Peter snapped.
"Are you signing up or not?" Jack said. Charming Jack was no longer there. This was another Jack. This was a Jack that meant business. One that was used to being listened to. Peter wavered for a minute, and then…
"Fuck this, take me home."
"What? You can't keep me here!"
"This is Torchwood. I told you we answer to no one. I also told you you're being stalked. You can sign up, or I can take you into protective custody. Either way, I'm not letting those fucking bloodsuckers make a meal of you."
"Fuck off," Peter said.
Jack stood, walked calmly to his office door and closed it, then drew the blinds. He went to Peter and grabbed his wrist, yanked him up, and before Peter could so much as say 'fuck' he was across Jack's knee. Jack's hand crashed down on his leather-clad buttocks a number of times as Peter cursed. He struggled, but Jack was stronger and had apparently had a lot of experience with this. He felt Jack rubbing his ass almost soothingly.
"You have a hard-on," Jack said. Peter couldn't see his face but he could hear it…he could actually hear Jack's smirk. "You like it." Jack added. His palm came down a dozen more times.
He couldn't deny it. He did like it. But he didn't like being dominated! Did he? He squirmed. Jack tightened his hold.
"Ah ah!" Jack admonished. "That was very naughty of you, trying to get away like that."
Jack's hand came down an uncounted number of times more before stroking Peter's burning buttocks lovingly. He squirmed again, but this time his traitorous body wasn't trying to escape, but rubbing his hardness against Jack's muscular thigh.
"Just as I thought," Jack said softly. "It wasn't that hard to figure out. You practically have it written all over you, you know. The tight black leather, the guyliner, that fuck-me-until-I-cry wiggle when you walk. And that sexy, dirty mouth of yours. Inside you're just a naughty little boy who wants Daddy to make him behave, aren't you?"
He sat Peter up in his lap. Piercing blue eyes captured Peter's mind, his libido. Jack's large, warm hand cupped Peter's aching hardness. "What are you doing to me?" he whimpered.
"Showing you who you really are," Jack said. "Now tell me what you want."
"Oh, god," Peter heard himself say. "Fuck me. Fuck me, Jack."
"Strip." Jack commanded. "No, scratch that." Jack stood, still holding Peter. He carried him to his desk, sat him on the edge and swept everything unfortunate enough to be in the way crashing onto the floor. He pulled Peter close and kissed him possessively, firmly, as though claiming him. Maybe that's just what he was doing, and god help him but Peter wanted exactly that. Jack undressed him, laid him on his back on the desk and undid his own trousers. He produced a tube from his pocket, slicked up his fingers, working them into Peter's opening.
Peter found himself responding, not against his will, but definitely without it, as if he had no choice in the matter. Maybe he didn't. Maybe he just didn't want to have to choose. Maybe he wanted Jack to choose.
Jack lifted his legs and leaned over him, draping his legs over Jack's shoulders. He slid inside Peter seamlessly, filling him smoothly, painlessly and completely. Peter heard himself groaning with pleasure as Jack began to move in and out.
"Oh, god, Jack, fuck me, fuck me hard!" he whimpered.
He was so close, so very close…and then Jack stopped. "So are you joining, or do I take you into protective custody?" Jack asked.
"Either! Both! I don't care!"
"Are you saying you're mine?"
"Fuck! Yes! I'm yours," Peter whimpered. And he found he meant it. "I'll be yours, just don't stop, don't ever stop," he whimpered.
"That's a good boy," Jack said gently. And slowly, so slowly, he fucked Peter until he was a sweating puddle of willingness on the verge of coming. And then he stopped again.
Somehow, Peter knew what Jack wanted. He didn't hold back. "Please," he begged. "Please, let me come. Come in me, Jack. Come in me, make me yours."
Jack grabbed his ass and pounded into him and Peter came without Jack so much as touching his cock. Jack collapsed on top of him, cuddled him; kissed him. And Peter found himself clinging to Jack as if he were the only thing solid in the world. Maybe he was. Jack brushed his fingers tenderly under Peter's eyes and he realized suddenly he had been weeping. Jack helped him up. Sat on the desk. Pulled Peter onto his lap, kissing his cheeks and his lips tenderly.
"We'll take good care of you," he said, kissing the top of his head. "I promise, we'll take good care of you. Welcome to Torchwood, Peter Vincent."