Fanfic: Trapped
Another fic from me... and a change from my JackIanto angst, it's GwenOwen hottness :D
Whaddya think?
Title: Trapped
Summary: Gwen and Owen have been at each other's throats since Diane left. Can they survive each other's company when they are trapped together in a lift?
Rating: NC 17
She had promised herself that this would never, ever happen again. Sometime between realising that yes, Owen really was a bastard, and almost losing Rhys, the love of her live, she had sworn that she would never do this again.
Yet here she was, her shirt on the floor, her hands ripping open his jeans and in her head she was begging for him to touch her.
“I hate you,” she gasped, her mouth crushed against his.
His reply was unintelligible as his mouth pressed back against hers, but she picked out ‘shut up’ as his lips tore to her neck and she moaned.
**********
It had been one of those days from the start. First her alarm hadn’t gone off and she was late. Then her hair conditioner had run out, officially making it a bad hair day. She’d snapped at Rhys when he tried to make her stop long enough for breakfast, only just stopping herself from blurting out that saving the world from alien invaders was more important than a slice of toast.
The traffic had made her curse, she met every red light on the way across town. And then, just as she pulled into the car park closest to the Hub, she realised she’d left her purse on the kitchen counter. ‘Shit,’ she swore out loud startling a few birds perched on the sea wall. Well she’d just have to borrow from Ianto for today. Or get him to order her in a pizza for lunch. Or breakfast.
She shouted a quick good morning to where she assumed he was, in his ‘back office’ as she ran the last few metres in from the car park and towards the lift because she’d seen the doors start to close and she did not want to be the last in this morning.
At first glance she didn’t even register who was in the lift with her as she barrelled through the closing doors and stopped herself with both palms pressed to the back wall of the lift.
“Nice of you to join us,” it was Owen, with a tray of take out coffees and a bag she knew would be pastries from the same coffee shop.
‘Fuck,’ she cursed inwardly. Not being alone with Owen had been one of her self-imposed, unspoken rules in the last few weeks. She hated him, he was a cruel bastard, and she loved Rhys, loved him more than anything. But every time she looked at Owen… she hoped he didn’t see the way she knew sometimes she flushed when she remembered some of the things they did together.
“Morning Owen,” was what she actually said, still a little breathless from her run between the car and the lift.
“Yeah well I hope you weren’t expecting me to get you anything, it’s not like you were here when I was taking orders,” he grunted.
“You know how I like my cappuccino,” she protested, then stopped. She would not let him wind her up.
“I know how you like a lot of things darlin’ but it doesn’t mean I give a toss.”
Gwen was about to bite back something smart when there was a grinding, crunching, metallic sound and the whole lift jerked, throwing her against Owen and spilling the coffees on him.
“Jesus Christ Gwen, what are you trying to do, kill me,” he cursed again as he dumped the half empty cardboard cups on the ground and wiped the spilled coffee off his jacket and t-shirt.
But Gwen wasn’t paying attention. “Owen, the lift has stopped,” there was a mild panic in her voice. “Owen?”
“Calm down, yeah, I’ll call downstairs, they probably jut have to press a button or something,” he was already hitting his speed dial as he spoke, sounding a little annoyed.
It took less than a minute for Owen to get off the phone, with a terse: “bloody brilliant.”
“You’re going to love this,” he looked at Gwen, his expression telling her she was absolutely not going to love what he had to say. “The computer programme that runs the tourist office security has crashed. It locked out the lift so we’ve just got to sit her ‘till they can enter some unlocking protocol.”
Gwen looked relieved. “We’ll that’s ok then. Ianto can type it in and we’ll be out of here in a minute.”
“No,” the single word seemed to hang in the air. “Tosh changed the protocols before she went to London. We have to wait until she gets back apparently,” he started to sit down on the floor of the lift, “so you might as well make yourself comfortable because she’s three hours away.”
“What?!” Gwen’s voice came out a good octave higher than normal.
“Here, have a coffee,” Owen had opened the lids to see what was left.
“No thanks,” she crossed her arms.
“Suit yourself.”
The first ten minutes went by in silence.
Owen drank two half cups of coffee.
Gwen picked at her nail varnish, studied her split ends, then took her phone from her bag and started flicking through her text messages.
“Oh for fuck’s sake will you stop fidgeting,” Owen finally burst out.
“Because you’re such good company?” Gwen shot back, not letting him see she was wounded by his jibe.
“Just stop making that stupid noise,” Owen looked annoyed as he gestured at her phone.
Gwen shoved the phone back in her bag and pulled out her diary, flicking through the pages, even thought she knew by heart all the important birthdays and anniversaries marked in there.
Another few minutes passed in silence.
Then Owen started to hum. Gwen ignored him. Then he started to drum his fingers in time on the floor of the lift.
“Yeah, very good Owen but if I wanted tone deaf singing I’d have recorded the X factor auditions,” Gwen snapped.
“Oh this is bloody great,” he bit back, getting to his feet. “We’re ten minutes in to a three hour wait and already you are being a right royal pain in the arse.”
“Oh you can talk,” Gwen said, “with your stupid singing.”
Owen snapped back: “Just give it a rest, can’t you. I don’t want to be stuck here with you either but am I, so deal with it.”
“Fine.”
“Fine!”
The two of them were staring at each other in anger.
Gwen really wanted to walk away but there was nowhere to go… so she retreated to the corner farthest away from Owen and sat down.
Another few minutes of silence passed, neither even looking at the other, before Owen’s phone rang. He had a short conversation and when it ended he spoke to Gwen again.
“That was Ianto. Just confirming he has spoken to Tosh and there is no way for us to get out of here until she gets back and can let us out.”
Gwen had been hoping for good news. Her face showed her disappointment.
“I’m bloody thrilled too,” Owen said, “this is my idea of the perfect way to spend a morning.”
“Oh shut up Owen,” Gwen sighed. “I get it; I’m not your chosen company.”
“No, you’re not,” he almost snarled.
They lapsed into silence again. But Gwen’ mind was racing. She was fed up with Owen’s attitude, he was being a total arse, she thought. ‘What did I ever see in him?’ she asked herself glancing at him over the top of her diary. He was leaning against the metal list wall, his head thrown back, his eyes closed, like he was trying to make the best of the situation and sleep.
‘Such an arrogant bastard,’ she thought on. She wouldn’t admit to herself the real reason she was so angry with him. Diane. She should have seen it before Tosh told her. After weeks of Owen not being able to keep his hands off her he had suddenly gone cold, rushed off from the Hub in the evenings without as much as a goodnight.
‘Bastard,’ she thought again, grinding her teeth, and then almost choked on her own breath as a memory of the last time she was in Owen’s car suddenly jumped into her mind.
Owen opened his eyes, looking annoyed at being interrupted from his nap, but said nothing.
Gwen buried her head in her diary, fully aware that her cheeks were blazing with blush. Trying hard to concentrate on where she had marked her mother’s birthday on the page she still could not stop the memory of exactly what Owen had done with his hands that evening in the car. It gave her goosebumps and she gave an involuntary shiver.
“Cold are ya?” Owen had been watching her.
“No...no I’m fine,” she stuttered.
“You’re not, you’re cold, come on,” he patted the floor beside him. Gwen looked both stunned and alarmed. “Oh for god’s sake, I’m not coming onto you, it’s basic survival, if we sit close together we’ll stay warm. And I’ll have to listen to Jack if you get after this. Trust me, now get over here.”
Gwen knew he was making sense, and realised that she was getting cold sitting on the hard metal floor. Keeping he eyes lowered she shuffled across the short distance until she was about a foot away from Owen.
He watched her all the time. “I don’t bite, Gwen,” there was an almost cruel tone to his voice, and then he closed the gap between them, sliding along the floor until they were pressed together, side by side.
Wanting to look anywhere but at Owen, while the image of them together was still in her mind, Gwen looked down at her watch.
“Still two and a half hours to go,” he said before she even registered what the watch-face was showing her. “Thanks,” she muttered.
Sitting so close to him was not having a good affect on Gwen. Not only could she feel his warmth along her side, but she was close enough that she could smell that familiar Owen-smell she knew so well. It was his early morning scent, she recognised his shampoo, and his aftershave.
Closing her eyes, Gwen breathed deeply and let the delicious smell waft over her. It was expensive and she loved it. In her mind she remembered lying on his bed, her head on his chest, rising and falling gently as he slept, that same scent…
The loud ringing of her phone actually made Gwen jump. She was aware of Owen laughing at her as she scrabbled around in her bag for it. Rhys. Checking about something to do with dinner later. She didn’t tell him where she was, stuck in a lift with Owen, and he was gone off the phone quickly.
“So how is lover-boy,” Owen teased.
“Just leave it Owen,” Gwen was even more annoyed at herself now. She wanted to block out that he was beside her but was afraid to close her eyes again, knowing what images were lurking just behind her eyelids.
Then Owen’s voice hissed in her ear. “I know what you were day dreaming about. Just can’t resist me, can you?”
“What? I was not?” she leaned away from him, knowing she sounded too defensive and he would know she was lying.
He smirked at her. She knew that cheeky expression. The way his face curled into that grin, when he was doing something he shouldn’t, like a naught schoolboy. The smile he used to give her before he kissed her in a dark corner of the Hub, when the others were busy and couldn’t see them.
They were staring at each other and Gwen knew her breathing had shallowed and quickened.
“Did you think I was sleeping earlier?” he whispered in her ear, tracing a finger along the side of her neck and down along to the top button of her shirt.
Gwen shuddered and closed her eyes, trying to resist him.
“I was thinking about the last morning we were in this lift together… do you remember Gwen….” His lips were so close to her that she could feel them moving against the sensitive skin along her neckline.
She made a kind of gulping noise in answer. Oh yes she remembered.
“We came in from my car…” She felt his hand on her leg, moving from her knee towards her hip. ‘Why did I wear a bloody skirt today,’ she cursed herself, feeling his hand on her leg. “We were late that morning too.”
“Mmmm….” she managed.
“You had this flushed look that morning,” he touched her cheek with his other hand. “So sexy,” he barley breathed the last bit, he slid the hand on her leg around to cup her arse and roughly pulled her close to him.
Bit still he didn’t kiss her, even though their faces were so close. Gwen’s palms were pressed against his chest, but she had no will power to push him away.
“What are we doing?” Gwen gasped.
“Want me to remind you?” that smirk was back again. Then his lips were on hers, urgent, demanding, almost painful. And she was kissing him back, pulling at his t-shirt with her hands then pushing off his leather jacket. She loved that jacket, remembered the feel of it on her skin. She pulled his t-shirt over his head, breaking the kiss, breathless.
Owen had been opening the buttons on her shirt. Then she felt the cool lift air on her arms and back as he pulled it off.
His lips moved to her shoulder, across her collar bone, as his hands unfastened her bra.
As his lips moved onto the uncovered, warm skin, Gwen leaned back against the wall and moaned softly.
She had promised herself that this would never, ever happen again. But it felt so good.
Then Owen moved and he was kneeling over her, her face in his hands and he crushed his lips to hers.
In her head Gwen voice was crying out for Owen to touch her, but some tiny shred of still conscious sense kept her from begging him. She didn’t have to. He made it clear he was thinking the same thing, as his hands grabbed hers and pushed them to the buckle of his jeans.
In the heat of the moment Gwen didn’t have time to think that she flicked open the fiddly buckle expertly, and then started on the jean-buttons. Feeling how aroused Owen was made her gasp against his demanding mouth.
His groan as she pulled the jeans open, rubbing her hands against him, was low and guttural. She pushed the jeans down and began to caress his hard cock, making him moan. He reached to touch the inside of her leg, but he had kneeled on her skirt and pinned it tight to the floor.
“Fuck,” he cursed and then with a heave he flipped them over, so that Gwen was straddling him.
Roughly he pushed up the skirt until it was around her waist. But then cursed again, as the flimsy material of her knickers got in his way. With a grunt he ripped it apart with both hands and pressed his hand to her.
“I hate you,” Gwen gasped as his fingers rubbed against her, her wetness betraying how turned on she was. “I can tell,” Owen smirked, “now shut up and let me fuck you.”
With his hands on her hips Owen pulled Gwen towards him and pulled her down onto his erect cock.
Their moans mingled as Gwen started to move up and down on him. She braced her hands on the wall behind his head and he kept a grip on her waist, forcing the pace, making her move faster.
Her thoughts were a mess. Good, it felt so good, but she knew it was wrong, but…oh... she didn’t care. “Owen,” she moaned as he took one hand from her waist and let it rub between her legs.
She didn’t want to admit it but she had missed this. Missed the way he knew just where to touch her, the way he made her moan his name, made her feel like the centre of his world.
Then from nowhere she felt her breath catch in her throat and she knew he as about to make her come. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, mumbling his name, almost whimpering, still moving around him.
“Don’t stop,” he grunted, “not yet.” She didn’t. But she didn’t have to wait more than a minute before Owen came too. Holding her so tight to him it hurt, and dampening his cries in her hair.
Then it was silent again. Neither of them moving. Breathless. Panting against the other’s bare skin. Holding each other tightly.
It was only when Gwen shivered that Owen moved and spoke. “You’re always cold,” but his voice was kinder than it had been for most of that morning as he reached for the closest piece of clothing, and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was his leather jacket.
Gwen smiled to herself. This felt familiar.
Owen’s arms around the jacket wrapped it close to her, holding her close to him for longer.
Their breathing eased and all was calm. They hadn’t moved. Gwen didn’t want to move yet. She didn’t want to think about what she had just done, but she knew that already the guilt was peaking into her mind. Again. ‘Why the fuck are you so bloody irresistible?’ she thought.
Owen felt her body tense. He knew what it meant. They’d been here before.
“We better get dressed,” he mumbled. “Yeah,” she agreed.
Their eyes didn’t meet as they quickly gathered the thrown clothes. Dressed, Gwen went to move to the far side of the lift again, but Owen caught her arm, pulling her back. “Stay here… warmer and all that.” She looked unsure. “Ok, I promise I won’t touch you… again,” there was that smirk. Then he was serious. “Truce?”
They didn’t need to talk about what he meant. They both knew. They’d both been mean and cruel to each other in the past weeks.
“Truce,” she smiled.
When Tosh did finally arrived back in Cardiff, later that morning, and the lift was got moving again, the Torchwood members were surprised to find a relaxed and laughing Gwen and Owen, when they had fully expected two very angry and cranky people. Especially when they had not been getting on very well lately.
But they weren’t to know. They couldn’t have known that twice that morning Owen had promised not to touch Gwen….. and both times she had let him break his promise…..
Whaddya think?
Title: Trapped
Summary: Gwen and Owen have been at each other's throats since Diane left. Can they survive each other's company when they are trapped together in a lift?
Rating: NC 17
She had promised herself that this would never, ever happen again. Sometime between realising that yes, Owen really was a bastard, and almost losing Rhys, the love of her live, she had sworn that she would never do this again.
Yet here she was, her shirt on the floor, her hands ripping open his jeans and in her head she was begging for him to touch her.
“I hate you,” she gasped, her mouth crushed against his.
His reply was unintelligible as his mouth pressed back against hers, but she picked out ‘shut up’ as his lips tore to her neck and she moaned.
**********
It had been one of those days from the start. First her alarm hadn’t gone off and she was late. Then her hair conditioner had run out, officially making it a bad hair day. She’d snapped at Rhys when he tried to make her stop long enough for breakfast, only just stopping herself from blurting out that saving the world from alien invaders was more important than a slice of toast.
The traffic had made her curse, she met every red light on the way across town. And then, just as she pulled into the car park closest to the Hub, she realised she’d left her purse on the kitchen counter. ‘Shit,’ she swore out loud startling a few birds perched on the sea wall. Well she’d just have to borrow from Ianto for today. Or get him to order her in a pizza for lunch. Or breakfast.
She shouted a quick good morning to where she assumed he was, in his ‘back office’ as she ran the last few metres in from the car park and towards the lift because she’d seen the doors start to close and she did not want to be the last in this morning.
At first glance she didn’t even register who was in the lift with her as she barrelled through the closing doors and stopped herself with both palms pressed to the back wall of the lift.
“Nice of you to join us,” it was Owen, with a tray of take out coffees and a bag she knew would be pastries from the same coffee shop.
‘Fuck,’ she cursed inwardly. Not being alone with Owen had been one of her self-imposed, unspoken rules in the last few weeks. She hated him, he was a cruel bastard, and she loved Rhys, loved him more than anything. But every time she looked at Owen… she hoped he didn’t see the way she knew sometimes she flushed when she remembered some of the things they did together.
“Morning Owen,” was what she actually said, still a little breathless from her run between the car and the lift.
“Yeah well I hope you weren’t expecting me to get you anything, it’s not like you were here when I was taking orders,” he grunted.
“You know how I like my cappuccino,” she protested, then stopped. She would not let him wind her up.
“I know how you like a lot of things darlin’ but it doesn’t mean I give a toss.”
Gwen was about to bite back something smart when there was a grinding, crunching, metallic sound and the whole lift jerked, throwing her against Owen and spilling the coffees on him.
“Jesus Christ Gwen, what are you trying to do, kill me,” he cursed again as he dumped the half empty cardboard cups on the ground and wiped the spilled coffee off his jacket and t-shirt.
But Gwen wasn’t paying attention. “Owen, the lift has stopped,” there was a mild panic in her voice. “Owen?”
“Calm down, yeah, I’ll call downstairs, they probably jut have to press a button or something,” he was already hitting his speed dial as he spoke, sounding a little annoyed.
It took less than a minute for Owen to get off the phone, with a terse: “bloody brilliant.”
“You’re going to love this,” he looked at Gwen, his expression telling her she was absolutely not going to love what he had to say. “The computer programme that runs the tourist office security has crashed. It locked out the lift so we’ve just got to sit her ‘till they can enter some unlocking protocol.”
Gwen looked relieved. “We’ll that’s ok then. Ianto can type it in and we’ll be out of here in a minute.”
“No,” the single word seemed to hang in the air. “Tosh changed the protocols before she went to London. We have to wait until she gets back apparently,” he started to sit down on the floor of the lift, “so you might as well make yourself comfortable because she’s three hours away.”
“What?!” Gwen’s voice came out a good octave higher than normal.
“Here, have a coffee,” Owen had opened the lids to see what was left.
“No thanks,” she crossed her arms.
“Suit yourself.”
The first ten minutes went by in silence.
Owen drank two half cups of coffee.
Gwen picked at her nail varnish, studied her split ends, then took her phone from her bag and started flicking through her text messages.
“Oh for fuck’s sake will you stop fidgeting,” Owen finally burst out.
“Because you’re such good company?” Gwen shot back, not letting him see she was wounded by his jibe.
“Just stop making that stupid noise,” Owen looked annoyed as he gestured at her phone.
Gwen shoved the phone back in her bag and pulled out her diary, flicking through the pages, even thought she knew by heart all the important birthdays and anniversaries marked in there.
Another few minutes passed in silence.
Then Owen started to hum. Gwen ignored him. Then he started to drum his fingers in time on the floor of the lift.
“Yeah, very good Owen but if I wanted tone deaf singing I’d have recorded the X factor auditions,” Gwen snapped.
“Oh this is bloody great,” he bit back, getting to his feet. “We’re ten minutes in to a three hour wait and already you are being a right royal pain in the arse.”
“Oh you can talk,” Gwen said, “with your stupid singing.”
Owen snapped back: “Just give it a rest, can’t you. I don’t want to be stuck here with you either but am I, so deal with it.”
“Fine.”
“Fine!”
The two of them were staring at each other in anger.
Gwen really wanted to walk away but there was nowhere to go… so she retreated to the corner farthest away from Owen and sat down.
Another few minutes of silence passed, neither even looking at the other, before Owen’s phone rang. He had a short conversation and when it ended he spoke to Gwen again.
“That was Ianto. Just confirming he has spoken to Tosh and there is no way for us to get out of here until she gets back and can let us out.”
Gwen had been hoping for good news. Her face showed her disappointment.
“I’m bloody thrilled too,” Owen said, “this is my idea of the perfect way to spend a morning.”
“Oh shut up Owen,” Gwen sighed. “I get it; I’m not your chosen company.”
“No, you’re not,” he almost snarled.
They lapsed into silence again. But Gwen’ mind was racing. She was fed up with Owen’s attitude, he was being a total arse, she thought. ‘What did I ever see in him?’ she asked herself glancing at him over the top of her diary. He was leaning against the metal list wall, his head thrown back, his eyes closed, like he was trying to make the best of the situation and sleep.
‘Such an arrogant bastard,’ she thought on. She wouldn’t admit to herself the real reason she was so angry with him. Diane. She should have seen it before Tosh told her. After weeks of Owen not being able to keep his hands off her he had suddenly gone cold, rushed off from the Hub in the evenings without as much as a goodnight.
‘Bastard,’ she thought again, grinding her teeth, and then almost choked on her own breath as a memory of the last time she was in Owen’s car suddenly jumped into her mind.
Owen opened his eyes, looking annoyed at being interrupted from his nap, but said nothing.
Gwen buried her head in her diary, fully aware that her cheeks were blazing with blush. Trying hard to concentrate on where she had marked her mother’s birthday on the page she still could not stop the memory of exactly what Owen had done with his hands that evening in the car. It gave her goosebumps and she gave an involuntary shiver.
“Cold are ya?” Owen had been watching her.
“No...no I’m fine,” she stuttered.
“You’re not, you’re cold, come on,” he patted the floor beside him. Gwen looked both stunned and alarmed. “Oh for god’s sake, I’m not coming onto you, it’s basic survival, if we sit close together we’ll stay warm. And I’ll have to listen to Jack if you get after this. Trust me, now get over here.”
Gwen knew he was making sense, and realised that she was getting cold sitting on the hard metal floor. Keeping he eyes lowered she shuffled across the short distance until she was about a foot away from Owen.
He watched her all the time. “I don’t bite, Gwen,” there was an almost cruel tone to his voice, and then he closed the gap between them, sliding along the floor until they were pressed together, side by side.
Wanting to look anywhere but at Owen, while the image of them together was still in her mind, Gwen looked down at her watch.
“Still two and a half hours to go,” he said before she even registered what the watch-face was showing her. “Thanks,” she muttered.
Sitting so close to him was not having a good affect on Gwen. Not only could she feel his warmth along her side, but she was close enough that she could smell that familiar Owen-smell she knew so well. It was his early morning scent, she recognised his shampoo, and his aftershave.
Closing her eyes, Gwen breathed deeply and let the delicious smell waft over her. It was expensive and she loved it. In her mind she remembered lying on his bed, her head on his chest, rising and falling gently as he slept, that same scent…
The loud ringing of her phone actually made Gwen jump. She was aware of Owen laughing at her as she scrabbled around in her bag for it. Rhys. Checking about something to do with dinner later. She didn’t tell him where she was, stuck in a lift with Owen, and he was gone off the phone quickly.
“So how is lover-boy,” Owen teased.
“Just leave it Owen,” Gwen was even more annoyed at herself now. She wanted to block out that he was beside her but was afraid to close her eyes again, knowing what images were lurking just behind her eyelids.
Then Owen’s voice hissed in her ear. “I know what you were day dreaming about. Just can’t resist me, can you?”
“What? I was not?” she leaned away from him, knowing she sounded too defensive and he would know she was lying.
He smirked at her. She knew that cheeky expression. The way his face curled into that grin, when he was doing something he shouldn’t, like a naught schoolboy. The smile he used to give her before he kissed her in a dark corner of the Hub, when the others were busy and couldn’t see them.
They were staring at each other and Gwen knew her breathing had shallowed and quickened.
“Did you think I was sleeping earlier?” he whispered in her ear, tracing a finger along the side of her neck and down along to the top button of her shirt.
Gwen shuddered and closed her eyes, trying to resist him.
“I was thinking about the last morning we were in this lift together… do you remember Gwen….” His lips were so close to her that she could feel them moving against the sensitive skin along her neckline.
She made a kind of gulping noise in answer. Oh yes she remembered.
“We came in from my car…” She felt his hand on her leg, moving from her knee towards her hip. ‘Why did I wear a bloody skirt today,’ she cursed herself, feeling his hand on her leg. “We were late that morning too.”
“Mmmm….” she managed.
“You had this flushed look that morning,” he touched her cheek with his other hand. “So sexy,” he barley breathed the last bit, he slid the hand on her leg around to cup her arse and roughly pulled her close to him.
Bit still he didn’t kiss her, even though their faces were so close. Gwen’s palms were pressed against his chest, but she had no will power to push him away.
“What are we doing?” Gwen gasped.
“Want me to remind you?” that smirk was back again. Then his lips were on hers, urgent, demanding, almost painful. And she was kissing him back, pulling at his t-shirt with her hands then pushing off his leather jacket. She loved that jacket, remembered the feel of it on her skin. She pulled his t-shirt over his head, breaking the kiss, breathless.
Owen had been opening the buttons on her shirt. Then she felt the cool lift air on her arms and back as he pulled it off.
His lips moved to her shoulder, across her collar bone, as his hands unfastened her bra.
As his lips moved onto the uncovered, warm skin, Gwen leaned back against the wall and moaned softly.
She had promised herself that this would never, ever happen again. But it felt so good.
Then Owen moved and he was kneeling over her, her face in his hands and he crushed his lips to hers.
In her head Gwen voice was crying out for Owen to touch her, but some tiny shred of still conscious sense kept her from begging him. She didn’t have to. He made it clear he was thinking the same thing, as his hands grabbed hers and pushed them to the buckle of his jeans.
In the heat of the moment Gwen didn’t have time to think that she flicked open the fiddly buckle expertly, and then started on the jean-buttons. Feeling how aroused Owen was made her gasp against his demanding mouth.
His groan as she pulled the jeans open, rubbing her hands against him, was low and guttural. She pushed the jeans down and began to caress his hard cock, making him moan. He reached to touch the inside of her leg, but he had kneeled on her skirt and pinned it tight to the floor.
“Fuck,” he cursed and then with a heave he flipped them over, so that Gwen was straddling him.
Roughly he pushed up the skirt until it was around her waist. But then cursed again, as the flimsy material of her knickers got in his way. With a grunt he ripped it apart with both hands and pressed his hand to her.
“I hate you,” Gwen gasped as his fingers rubbed against her, her wetness betraying how turned on she was. “I can tell,” Owen smirked, “now shut up and let me fuck you.”
With his hands on her hips Owen pulled Gwen towards him and pulled her down onto his erect cock.
Their moans mingled as Gwen started to move up and down on him. She braced her hands on the wall behind his head and he kept a grip on her waist, forcing the pace, making her move faster.
Her thoughts were a mess. Good, it felt so good, but she knew it was wrong, but…oh... she didn’t care. “Owen,” she moaned as he took one hand from her waist and let it rub between her legs.
She didn’t want to admit it but she had missed this. Missed the way he knew just where to touch her, the way he made her moan his name, made her feel like the centre of his world.
Then from nowhere she felt her breath catch in her throat and she knew he as about to make her come. She wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck, mumbling his name, almost whimpering, still moving around him.
“Don’t stop,” he grunted, “not yet.” She didn’t. But she didn’t have to wait more than a minute before Owen came too. Holding her so tight to him it hurt, and dampening his cries in her hair.
Then it was silent again. Neither of them moving. Breathless. Panting against the other’s bare skin. Holding each other tightly.
It was only when Gwen shivered that Owen moved and spoke. “You’re always cold,” but his voice was kinder than it had been for most of that morning as he reached for the closest piece of clothing, and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was his leather jacket.
Gwen smiled to herself. This felt familiar.
Owen’s arms around the jacket wrapped it close to her, holding her close to him for longer.
Their breathing eased and all was calm. They hadn’t moved. Gwen didn’t want to move yet. She didn’t want to think about what she had just done, but she knew that already the guilt was peaking into her mind. Again. ‘Why the fuck are you so bloody irresistible?’ she thought.
Owen felt her body tense. He knew what it meant. They’d been here before.
“We better get dressed,” he mumbled. “Yeah,” she agreed.
Their eyes didn’t meet as they quickly gathered the thrown clothes. Dressed, Gwen went to move to the far side of the lift again, but Owen caught her arm, pulling her back. “Stay here… warmer and all that.” She looked unsure. “Ok, I promise I won’t touch you… again,” there was that smirk. Then he was serious. “Truce?”
They didn’t need to talk about what he meant. They both knew. They’d both been mean and cruel to each other in the past weeks.
“Truce,” she smiled.
When Tosh did finally arrived back in Cardiff, later that morning, and the lift was got moving again, the Torchwood members were surprised to find a relaxed and laughing Gwen and Owen, when they had fully expected two very angry and cranky people. Especially when they had not been getting on very well lately.
But they weren’t to know. They couldn’t have known that twice that morning Owen had promised not to touch Gwen….. and both times she had let him break his promise…..