Fic: Like A Boss (A Touch of Cloth, Jack Cloth/Tom Boss, NC-17)
This is one of those "I really don't have time for this, and no one's going to read it, but I had to write it anyway" things. Because really, when there's a gorgeous, canonical m/m pairing and I can find NO fic about it whatsoever, well: "That must never be allowed to happen!". It really is the stupidest, most aggravating show ever, but I love it so, so much :D
Title: Like A Boss
Also at: AO3
Status: Complete
Fandom: A Touch of Cloth
Characters/Pairings: Jack Cloth/Tom Boss
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2,900
Warnings/contents: Dubious writing, terrible jokes, meta, more terrible jokes, more meta, slash.
Notes: I'm blaming this on enigmaticpenguinofdeath, who seduced me into watching this ridiculous show with gifs and enthusiasm. If you're interested, her fabulous pimp post with links is here.
Summary: Inevitable post-ep to Undercover Cloth, in which Tom takes Jack home, and they have sex. Or what the Hungarians call, "szex". It's a good thing mere bullets are no match for the healing power of lust.
Like A Boss
As they pulled away from the crime scene, Jack stayed twisted around in his seat, watching Anne recede into the distance. Only when she had blurred into the scenery did he resettle himself and turn his face towards Tom, and the road ahead. He saw Tom throw him a quick, uncertain glance. It made him look decidedly out of character.
“So, Jack... how are you feeling?”
“Not bad, thanks. Case closed, bad guys and Goodgirl brought to justice, not to mention the prospect of having sex with you in the very near future. Can’t complain.”
“Has your wound stopped bleeding, then? I thought Bullock shot you before you got to the telethon.”
“He did.” Jack pulled up his shirt for a better look. “But somehow it seems to have all closed up again now. Good as new. Wait… didn’t Macratty shoot you a few times, too? Not more than half an hour ago, if I’m not mistaken. You almost died back there. I remember. I saved your life.”
“Indeed he did, and it was, and you’re not, and I did, and you do, and you did. It’s a good thing mere bullets are no match for the healing power of lust.”
“This is all very convenient, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
Jack was momentarily dazzled by Tom’s smile, or perhaps it was just the lights of a passing car. He considered for another moment, brow furrowed. “But why couldn’t we have had a proper kiss back there, instead of stopping at that gutless mouth-to-mouth stuff? No one had any qualms about Oldman and Goodgirl having it off.”
“Double standards. Besides, I have a reputation as a heartless bastard to protect. You wouldn’t want to get me the sack.”
Jack thought it unlikely that anyone would fire Tom for having a heart. Most people had one. They were common organs. “But -”
“The sack, Cloth.”
“I’m just saying, it doesn’t seem fair.”
“It’s not. Good thing there’s always fanfiction. Or what the Germans call, ‘fanfiktion’.”
“Yeah? What’s that about, then?”
“Well, first, it involves getting you back to my house, which will be lovely, although strikingly under-described. Except maybe for the bedroom. And once there we’ll indulge in some lengthy and graphic sex.”
“Sounds all right, I suppose. Will we enjoy it?”
“Very much so. Or at least, I will. I’m the favoured character here, you see.”
“You? Why you? What’s so good about you?”
“I believe it’s the floppy haircut, the boundless arrogance, and the nice coat. Never underestimate the power of a nice coat. Also, there’s my dubious morality, what with my dark past as a serial killer and wife murderer. Some people find that hot. It’s weird, I know.”
“But I’m the main character! I’ve suffered! It should be all about me! Plus my accent’s sexy as hell.”
“Coat.”
“You’re not even wearing it tonight!” Jack rolled his eyes and turned away, still keen on Tom’s body, but less so on looking at his smug face.
He was only slightly mollified by the touch of Tom's hand on his knee. “Now, now, don’t be jealous. If it’s any consolation, you’ll be the one getting to stick your dick up my arse. You can even pretend I’m your dead wife, if you like. Although that would be pretty fucked up. I don’t recommend it.”
Jack shook his head. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, Tom, but not only is this preamble getting strange and more than a little disturbing, it’s taking forever, and I’ve had a really long day. Can we stop talking now and cut straight to the sex?”
“Absolutely. Just hold that thought until we get past this triple asterisk.”
***
Jack gasped, and his head thudded back against the wall as Tom’s mouth slid up and down his cock. It had been a long time since he had been in a compromising position with another man, if you didn’t count cavity searches, and he was impressed by the dedication Tom was giving to the job. Not that women couldn’t give decent blow jobs, of course, but it was different, since they didn’t have the requisite anatomy, and couldn’t fully appreciate what it was like to… his thoughts trailed off as he realised he was descending into unwarranted sexism when he should really just be enjoying his blow job. Still, something troubled him.
“Boss?” he said.
“Mmm?” Tom’s response was muffled, since his mouth was full.
“Not that I’m complaining or anything, but how did I get here? We were just in the car a split-second ago, and now you’re on your knees sucking dick like a whore. I don’t even know what the outside of your house looks like. I can’t help thinking I’ve missed out on something of the whole experience.”
Tom pulled away, leaving Jack’s cock slick and cooling in the hallway’s draught. The overhead light was on, and as Tom tilted his face up, Jack could see his lips were red and appealingly swollen. “I thought you wanted to cut right to the sex.”
“Well, yeah, but I don’t like having gaps in my memory. It bothers me.”
Tom sighed, got to his feet and kissed him. His mouth tasted like seminal fluid. Now who needed to brush his teeth? Jack shivered as Tom’s tongue flicked briefly inside his ear, his breath warm and wet. “In that case, I’m not wasting an amazing blow job on someone who won’t even be concentrating. Hurry up, then.”
“And do what?”
“Go ahead and have your flashback. I’ll just grind against you for a bit while I’m waiting.”
“Oh, right. Thanks,” Jack said, and shut his eyes.
Tom’s house lay just beyond the line of asterisks, at the end of a quiet suburban street. It was large, painted white, and loomed out of the darkness in the way that white-painted houses tended to do. It was as nice-looking as Jack had expected - he noted a door, windows, walls, foundations, and a roof, all in their proper and correct places. Tom drove the car into the driveway and killed the engine. Not literally, since as a piece of machinery it had never truly been alive.
“Come on,” he said. “If we’re going to have sex, we’d better go inside first. Unless you want the neighbours to watch. I don’t mind, if that’s what you’re into.”
“Wait,” Jack said. “Aren’t you married? What about your wife? Won’t she object?”
“She left me after the news got round about the murders. Don’t you remember?”
“No,” Jack said, which was a word he often used when he wanted to convey a response in the negative. “I don’t think anyone bothered to mention it down at the station. Or anywhere else, for that matter.”
“Typical.”
“What do you mean?”
“Supporting characters have lives, too, you know. You should try sparing a bit of storyline for me and Des and Asap once in a while.”
“Who?”
Tom swept out of the car, slamming the door, and bounded up the front steps. “Never mind. Now, I warn you, once we get into the hallway, I’m going to fall upon you like a starving man on a fruit-filled Christmas pudding.”
That seemed an odd declaration, since it was only September. “But -”
“Pudding, Cloth.”
“Well, all right then, if you say so.”
It seemed that despite his wife-murdering proclivities, Tom was a man of his word. Jack had barely shut the door behind him before he was subjected to a full-frontal osculatory attack. Tom’s tongue pushed into his mouth again and again, as though he were trying to urgently lick the last remnants out of a small jam jar. Jack quickly developed an erection that felt as though it were trying to push its way out of his jeans.
“Would you like some help with that?” Tom was looking smug again, although it suited him much better this time.
“I’m all right. Just a natural bodily reaction, I think,” Jack said.
“I meant, would you like my assistance on your way towards achieving an orgasm? I would probably start by putting your cock in my mouth.”
“In that case, yes please.”
Tom’s hands reached out to undo Jack's belt and buttons. Perhaps in some brilliant foreshadowing of exactly such an end to his evening, Jack hadn’t worn any underwear. He groaned as Tom sank to his knees and began sucking like a high-end hoover.
“Oh, oh god!”
“Right, are you done with that flashback now? See, you didn’t miss much.” Jack opened his eyes to find Tom still pressed up against him, rutting away, his erection digging into Jack’s thigh. This time Jack threw himself into a proper response. He pushed Tom against the opposite wall, held him down, and kissed him roughly on the mouth.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Jack breathed.
“You’re right, I don’t. How long?”
“Six inches. You?”
“Seven.” Tom guided Jack’s hand to the front of his constable’s uniform, just to prove his point.
“Bastard.”
“I told you, favoured character. Every little bit helps.”
“I can see that. Or at least I could, if you’d take off your trousers. And preferably your shoes.”
“I think if we’re going to do this properly, it’s time to adjourn to the bedroom. Or what the New Zealanders call, ‘the bedroom’. It’s upstairs, along the hall, then past the bathroom, the study, the reptilarium, and the armoury. You can follow me for now, but I’ll give you a map so you can find your own way out again afterwards.”
“And I suppose you’ll want me to leave a picturesque trail of clothes evenly spaced up the steps.”
“Would you, please? That’s what I always do. Except I have a few more items of clothing to work with.”
“Yeah,” Jack growled, in the voice that made grown women weak at the knees. Men, too. “Far too many.”
He struggled briefly with the tie that Tom was still quite improbably wearing, then gave it up. Easier to pull off his own tattered shirt and jeans and let the asterisks do the rest of the work.
***
By the time Jack reached the bedroom, he was naked. The bedroom was as big as the rest of the house put together, and decked out in a style Jack might have called Late Bordello, but didn’t. There was a lot of red fabric and expensive wooden furniture, and billowy things creating atmosphere. Jack headed towards the glimpse of a bed he saw in the distance, drawn by the shimmering of black satin sheets. Tom reclined majestically upon them, also naked. As Jack made his final approach, he saw Tom reach into a drawer, and toss something at him. Jack caught it reflexively before leaping onto the bed. Showing great presence of mind, Tom bodychecked him before he could slide off the other side.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said. Jack took a moment to appreciate the sight of Tom laid out before him - including all seven inches standing proudly at attention - before returning to the matter at hand. Or rather, in hand.
“So, what’s in this tube?”
“It says right there - lube.”
“It looks quite well used.”
“I’m rarely refused.”
“You’ve done this a lot.”
“You don’t think I’m hot?”
“Just asking, that’s all.”
“Stop trying to stall.”
“I’m not sure how to begin.”
“Slick it up, stick it in.”
“Shouldn’t we… take it slow?”
“No, come on, Jack, let’s go.”
Jack sighed, at a loss. Who’d have thought, him and Boss? He moved up to cover Tom’s body with his own in a lazy sprawl. They shared a few more kisses. “You drive me absolutely crazy, you know that?” he said.
“I’m sorry.”
“Crazy with desire, you idiot.”
“Oh, well, I’m not sorry, then.”
Uncapping the tube, Jack covered his fingers with lube, then knelt between Tom’s legs. He started off by taking Tom’s cock in his mouth, while Tom jerked and whimpered and made satisfying groaning noises, which encouraged Jack to keep going. He then proceeded to push the tip of a slicked-up finger inside him.
“Oh, god, Jack!”
Jack worked in another finger, then another. He let Tom’s cock slip out of his mouth as he methodically worked his fingers in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out in and out and in and out and in and out in and out and in and out and in and out in and out and in and out and in and out...
“Jack, that’s enough, for god’s sake. Just fuck me!”
“Okay, okay, hold your horses. I’m coming.”
“What, already? Bit quick on the draw.”
“I meant I’m getting there.”
Jack pushed Tom’s legs a little further apart, sticking a pillow under his arse, and got himself into position. He could see himself in several of the long mirrors that lined the walls, and paused, lost in a bout of angst-filled reflection. He was really about to do this. He was about to have a thoroughly good time fucking a man who had murdered thirteen people, including Jack’s wife. Who had, in addition, once put a bullet through Jack’s favourite shirt, and destroyed his electric shaver beyond repair.
“Stop ruminating, Jack.” Tom sounded like he was running out of patience. “No point in regretting it now.”
“Shouldn’t I at least use a condom?” Jack blurted out. “God knows, sometimes you’ve been just a little bit irresponsible.”
“You risk your life on an hourly basis, and now you’re worried about safe sex?”
“Fair point.”
Sidestepping further attacks of conscience, Jack slicked up his prick and pushed in slowly, making Tom groan with pleasure. He was aware that given Tom’s favoured status, the bastard was probably going to enjoy whatever was done to him, while Jack would have to work for it. Still, it had been months since he’d last fucked anyone, and it felt fantastic. He soon found his rhythm, pounding into Tom over and over, an increasingly tricky manoeuvre as their bodies grew slippery with sweat and began sliding around the bed. Eventually he pinned Tom’s arms above his head with both of his, holding him still while he continued to thrust.
“I’ll show you who’s boss,” he muttered.
“That… would… still… be… me.”
Whatever Tom’s faults might have been, he was both enthusiastic and responsive in bed, and it wasn’t long before Jack felt his orgasm bearing down upon him as though it were a freight train approaching a level crossing. Suddenly, Tom’s frantic voice cut through his thoughts, like a car attempting to cross the tracks at the last possible second. Jack jerked his head up, distracted.
“Jack, wait,” Tom panted. “I have… oh god, I have a confession to make.”
“What?” He had been close, so close. “Why now?”
“It seemed like the most dramatic moment.”
“Well… what is it?”
“I didn’t shoot Kate because I wanted to break you, Jack. It wasn’t you I was jealous of at all. It was her. Kate. Because I wanted you for myself. I always have done, since the first moment I saw you, down at the station. I only shot you because I thought I could never have you. I love you, Jack. I love you.”
Jack stilled, frozen in shock. Tom’s hand began moving on his cock, hard and fast, as he held Jack in his desperate gaze. Then his eyes closed as he shuddered and came, his expression a stark mix of agony and ecstasy.
“Oh, god,” Jack moaned. It was too late to stop himself, too late to explain. “Oh god, Kate, Kate. I love you too, Kate. Oh, Kate.”
He thrashed helplessly about on top of Tom, then lay still. There was nothing in the silence but the soft billowing of drapes, and the sounds of heavy breathing.
“That… wasn’t quite what I’d hoped for,” Tom said at last, wriggling out from under him. “I suppose I deserved that.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Jack turned quickly onto his side to kiss him. “You see, I have a confession to make, too.”
“Really? What's that?”
“It’s where you hide something from someone for a long time, and then you finally tell them about it.”
“I meant, what’s your confession?”
“I felt exactly the same way about you. The first time you called me into your office, gave me one of your insulting little talks. I was so caught up listening to your voice, I couldn’t even concentrate on what you were saying. After that, well - even though I was still married, every time I slept with Kate, I was thinking of you.”
“So just now, when you were calling her name… you really were thinking of me.”
“It just became a bit of a bad habit, I guess.”
Tom reached out to embrace him, then leaned back on one elbow. “Jack, you are the most fucked-up individual I’ve ever met. And I say that as someone who's hacked people into little pieces with a sword.”
“Yeah, but it’s why you love me, isn’t it? It’s why everyone loves me.”
“That’s true.”
“So, now what?”
“Who knows?” Tom smiled, looking a little rueful. “Probably we just carry on by ourselves until next series, don’t you think? I suppose we’ll find out what happens then. In the meantime, I’m all sticky and sweaty and still quite bloody, and I think we could both do with a bit of a wash.” He slid off the bed and extended a hand to Jack.
The bed was far too comfortable to consider moving just yet. “But -”
“A wash, Cloth.”
Jack groaned, but gave in and let Tom pull him off the bed. Then he pressed up close against him, and kissed him one more time for good measure. “Okay, okay, fine. I guess for now you’re still the boss. Boss.”
Title: Like A Boss
Also at: AO3
Status: Complete
Fandom: A Touch of Cloth
Characters/Pairings: Jack Cloth/Tom Boss
Rating: NC-17
Word count: 2,900
Warnings/contents: Dubious writing, terrible jokes, meta, more terrible jokes, more meta, slash.
Notes: I'm blaming this on enigmaticpenguinofdeath, who seduced me into watching this ridiculous show with gifs and enthusiasm. If you're interested, her fabulous pimp post with links is here.
Summary: Inevitable post-ep to Undercover Cloth, in which Tom takes Jack home, and they have sex. Or what the Hungarians call, "szex". It's a good thing mere bullets are no match for the healing power of lust.
Like A Boss
As they pulled away from the crime scene, Jack stayed twisted around in his seat, watching Anne recede into the distance. Only when she had blurred into the scenery did he resettle himself and turn his face towards Tom, and the road ahead. He saw Tom throw him a quick, uncertain glance. It made him look decidedly out of character.
“So, Jack... how are you feeling?”
“Not bad, thanks. Case closed, bad guys and Goodgirl brought to justice, not to mention the prospect of having sex with you in the very near future. Can’t complain.”
“Has your wound stopped bleeding, then? I thought Bullock shot you before you got to the telethon.”
“He did.” Jack pulled up his shirt for a better look. “But somehow it seems to have all closed up again now. Good as new. Wait… didn’t Macratty shoot you a few times, too? Not more than half an hour ago, if I’m not mistaken. You almost died back there. I remember. I saved your life.”
“Indeed he did, and it was, and you’re not, and I did, and you do, and you did. It’s a good thing mere bullets are no match for the healing power of lust.”
“This is all very convenient, isn’t it?”
“Yes, it is.”
Jack was momentarily dazzled by Tom’s smile, or perhaps it was just the lights of a passing car. He considered for another moment, brow furrowed. “But why couldn’t we have had a proper kiss back there, instead of stopping at that gutless mouth-to-mouth stuff? No one had any qualms about Oldman and Goodgirl having it off.”
“Double standards. Besides, I have a reputation as a heartless bastard to protect. You wouldn’t want to get me the sack.”
Jack thought it unlikely that anyone would fire Tom for having a heart. Most people had one. They were common organs. “But -”
“The sack, Cloth.”
“I’m just saying, it doesn’t seem fair.”
“It’s not. Good thing there’s always fanfiction. Or what the Germans call, ‘fanfiktion’.”
“Yeah? What’s that about, then?”
“Well, first, it involves getting you back to my house, which will be lovely, although strikingly under-described. Except maybe for the bedroom. And once there we’ll indulge in some lengthy and graphic sex.”
“Sounds all right, I suppose. Will we enjoy it?”
“Very much so. Or at least, I will. I’m the favoured character here, you see.”
“You? Why you? What’s so good about you?”
“I believe it’s the floppy haircut, the boundless arrogance, and the nice coat. Never underestimate the power of a nice coat. Also, there’s my dubious morality, what with my dark past as a serial killer and wife murderer. Some people find that hot. It’s weird, I know.”
“But I’m the main character! I’ve suffered! It should be all about me! Plus my accent’s sexy as hell.”
“Coat.”
“You’re not even wearing it tonight!” Jack rolled his eyes and turned away, still keen on Tom’s body, but less so on looking at his smug face.
He was only slightly mollified by the touch of Tom's hand on his knee. “Now, now, don’t be jealous. If it’s any consolation, you’ll be the one getting to stick your dick up my arse. You can even pretend I’m your dead wife, if you like. Although that would be pretty fucked up. I don’t recommend it.”
Jack shook his head. “Look, don’t take this the wrong way, Tom, but not only is this preamble getting strange and more than a little disturbing, it’s taking forever, and I’ve had a really long day. Can we stop talking now and cut straight to the sex?”
“Absolutely. Just hold that thought until we get past this triple asterisk.”
***
Jack gasped, and his head thudded back against the wall as Tom’s mouth slid up and down his cock. It had been a long time since he had been in a compromising position with another man, if you didn’t count cavity searches, and he was impressed by the dedication Tom was giving to the job. Not that women couldn’t give decent blow jobs, of course, but it was different, since they didn’t have the requisite anatomy, and couldn’t fully appreciate what it was like to… his thoughts trailed off as he realised he was descending into unwarranted sexism when he should really just be enjoying his blow job. Still, something troubled him.
“Boss?” he said.
“Mmm?” Tom’s response was muffled, since his mouth was full.
“Not that I’m complaining or anything, but how did I get here? We were just in the car a split-second ago, and now you’re on your knees sucking dick like a whore. I don’t even know what the outside of your house looks like. I can’t help thinking I’ve missed out on something of the whole experience.”
Tom pulled away, leaving Jack’s cock slick and cooling in the hallway’s draught. The overhead light was on, and as Tom tilted his face up, Jack could see his lips were red and appealingly swollen. “I thought you wanted to cut right to the sex.”
“Well, yeah, but I don’t like having gaps in my memory. It bothers me.”
Tom sighed, got to his feet and kissed him. His mouth tasted like seminal fluid. Now who needed to brush his teeth? Jack shivered as Tom’s tongue flicked briefly inside his ear, his breath warm and wet. “In that case, I’m not wasting an amazing blow job on someone who won’t even be concentrating. Hurry up, then.”
“And do what?”
“Go ahead and have your flashback. I’ll just grind against you for a bit while I’m waiting.”
“Oh, right. Thanks,” Jack said, and shut his eyes.
Tom’s house lay just beyond the line of asterisks, at the end of a quiet suburban street. It was large, painted white, and loomed out of the darkness in the way that white-painted houses tended to do. It was as nice-looking as Jack had expected - he noted a door, windows, walls, foundations, and a roof, all in their proper and correct places. Tom drove the car into the driveway and killed the engine. Not literally, since as a piece of machinery it had never truly been alive.
“Come on,” he said. “If we’re going to have sex, we’d better go inside first. Unless you want the neighbours to watch. I don’t mind, if that’s what you’re into.”
“Wait,” Jack said. “Aren’t you married? What about your wife? Won’t she object?”
“She left me after the news got round about the murders. Don’t you remember?”
“No,” Jack said, which was a word he often used when he wanted to convey a response in the negative. “I don’t think anyone bothered to mention it down at the station. Or anywhere else, for that matter.”
“Typical.”
“What do you mean?”
“Supporting characters have lives, too, you know. You should try sparing a bit of storyline for me and Des and Asap once in a while.”
“Who?”
Tom swept out of the car, slamming the door, and bounded up the front steps. “Never mind. Now, I warn you, once we get into the hallway, I’m going to fall upon you like a starving man on a fruit-filled Christmas pudding.”
That seemed an odd declaration, since it was only September. “But -”
“Pudding, Cloth.”
“Well, all right then, if you say so.”
It seemed that despite his wife-murdering proclivities, Tom was a man of his word. Jack had barely shut the door behind him before he was subjected to a full-frontal osculatory attack. Tom’s tongue pushed into his mouth again and again, as though he were trying to urgently lick the last remnants out of a small jam jar. Jack quickly developed an erection that felt as though it were trying to push its way out of his jeans.
“Would you like some help with that?” Tom was looking smug again, although it suited him much better this time.
“I’m all right. Just a natural bodily reaction, I think,” Jack said.
“I meant, would you like my assistance on your way towards achieving an orgasm? I would probably start by putting your cock in my mouth.”
“In that case, yes please.”
Tom’s hands reached out to undo Jack's belt and buttons. Perhaps in some brilliant foreshadowing of exactly such an end to his evening, Jack hadn’t worn any underwear. He groaned as Tom sank to his knees and began sucking like a high-end hoover.
“Oh, oh god!”
“Right, are you done with that flashback now? See, you didn’t miss much.” Jack opened his eyes to find Tom still pressed up against him, rutting away, his erection digging into Jack’s thigh. This time Jack threw himself into a proper response. He pushed Tom against the opposite wall, held him down, and kissed him roughly on the mouth.
“You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do that,” Jack breathed.
“You’re right, I don’t. How long?”
“Six inches. You?”
“Seven.” Tom guided Jack’s hand to the front of his constable’s uniform, just to prove his point.
“Bastard.”
“I told you, favoured character. Every little bit helps.”
“I can see that. Or at least I could, if you’d take off your trousers. And preferably your shoes.”
“I think if we’re going to do this properly, it’s time to adjourn to the bedroom. Or what the New Zealanders call, ‘the bedroom’. It’s upstairs, along the hall, then past the bathroom, the study, the reptilarium, and the armoury. You can follow me for now, but I’ll give you a map so you can find your own way out again afterwards.”
“And I suppose you’ll want me to leave a picturesque trail of clothes evenly spaced up the steps.”
“Would you, please? That’s what I always do. Except I have a few more items of clothing to work with.”
“Yeah,” Jack growled, in the voice that made grown women weak at the knees. Men, too. “Far too many.”
He struggled briefly with the tie that Tom was still quite improbably wearing, then gave it up. Easier to pull off his own tattered shirt and jeans and let the asterisks do the rest of the work.
***
By the time Jack reached the bedroom, he was naked. The bedroom was as big as the rest of the house put together, and decked out in a style Jack might have called Late Bordello, but didn’t. There was a lot of red fabric and expensive wooden furniture, and billowy things creating atmosphere. Jack headed towards the glimpse of a bed he saw in the distance, drawn by the shimmering of black satin sheets. Tom reclined majestically upon them, also naked. As Jack made his final approach, he saw Tom reach into a drawer, and toss something at him. Jack caught it reflexively before leaping onto the bed. Showing great presence of mind, Tom bodychecked him before he could slide off the other side.
“You’re not going anywhere,” he said. Jack took a moment to appreciate the sight of Tom laid out before him - including all seven inches standing proudly at attention - before returning to the matter at hand. Or rather, in hand.
“So, what’s in this tube?”
“It says right there - lube.”
“It looks quite well used.”
“I’m rarely refused.”
“You’ve done this a lot.”
“You don’t think I’m hot?”
“Just asking, that’s all.”
“Stop trying to stall.”
“I’m not sure how to begin.”
“Slick it up, stick it in.”
“Shouldn’t we… take it slow?”
“No, come on, Jack, let’s go.”
Jack sighed, at a loss. Who’d have thought, him and Boss? He moved up to cover Tom’s body with his own in a lazy sprawl. They shared a few more kisses. “You drive me absolutely crazy, you know that?” he said.
“I’m sorry.”
“Crazy with desire, you idiot.”
“Oh, well, I’m not sorry, then.”
Uncapping the tube, Jack covered his fingers with lube, then knelt between Tom’s legs. He started off by taking Tom’s cock in his mouth, while Tom jerked and whimpered and made satisfying groaning noises, which encouraged Jack to keep going. He then proceeded to push the tip of a slicked-up finger inside him.
“Oh, god, Jack!”
Jack worked in another finger, then another. He let Tom’s cock slip out of his mouth as he methodically worked his fingers in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out and in and out in and out and in and out and in and out in and out and in and out and in and out in and out and in and out and in and out...
“Jack, that’s enough, for god’s sake. Just fuck me!”
“Okay, okay, hold your horses. I’m coming.”
“What, already? Bit quick on the draw.”
“I meant I’m getting there.”
Jack pushed Tom’s legs a little further apart, sticking a pillow under his arse, and got himself into position. He could see himself in several of the long mirrors that lined the walls, and paused, lost in a bout of angst-filled reflection. He was really about to do this. He was about to have a thoroughly good time fucking a man who had murdered thirteen people, including Jack’s wife. Who had, in addition, once put a bullet through Jack’s favourite shirt, and destroyed his electric shaver beyond repair.
“Stop ruminating, Jack.” Tom sounded like he was running out of patience. “No point in regretting it now.”
“Shouldn’t I at least use a condom?” Jack blurted out. “God knows, sometimes you’ve been just a little bit irresponsible.”
“You risk your life on an hourly basis, and now you’re worried about safe sex?”
“Fair point.”
Sidestepping further attacks of conscience, Jack slicked up his prick and pushed in slowly, making Tom groan with pleasure. He was aware that given Tom’s favoured status, the bastard was probably going to enjoy whatever was done to him, while Jack would have to work for it. Still, it had been months since he’d last fucked anyone, and it felt fantastic. He soon found his rhythm, pounding into Tom over and over, an increasingly tricky manoeuvre as their bodies grew slippery with sweat and began sliding around the bed. Eventually he pinned Tom’s arms above his head with both of his, holding him still while he continued to thrust.
“I’ll show you who’s boss,” he muttered.
“That… would… still… be… me.”
Whatever Tom’s faults might have been, he was both enthusiastic and responsive in bed, and it wasn’t long before Jack felt his orgasm bearing down upon him as though it were a freight train approaching a level crossing. Suddenly, Tom’s frantic voice cut through his thoughts, like a car attempting to cross the tracks at the last possible second. Jack jerked his head up, distracted.
“Jack, wait,” Tom panted. “I have… oh god, I have a confession to make.”
“What?” He had been close, so close. “Why now?”
“It seemed like the most dramatic moment.”
“Well… what is it?”
“I didn’t shoot Kate because I wanted to break you, Jack. It wasn’t you I was jealous of at all. It was her. Kate. Because I wanted you for myself. I always have done, since the first moment I saw you, down at the station. I only shot you because I thought I could never have you. I love you, Jack. I love you.”
Jack stilled, frozen in shock. Tom’s hand began moving on his cock, hard and fast, as he held Jack in his desperate gaze. Then his eyes closed as he shuddered and came, his expression a stark mix of agony and ecstasy.
“Oh, god,” Jack moaned. It was too late to stop himself, too late to explain. “Oh god, Kate, Kate. I love you too, Kate. Oh, Kate.”
He thrashed helplessly about on top of Tom, then lay still. There was nothing in the silence but the soft billowing of drapes, and the sounds of heavy breathing.
“That… wasn’t quite what I’d hoped for,” Tom said at last, wriggling out from under him. “I suppose I deserved that.”
“No, you don’t understand.” Jack turned quickly onto his side to kiss him. “You see, I have a confession to make, too.”
“Really? What's that?”
“It’s where you hide something from someone for a long time, and then you finally tell them about it.”
“I meant, what’s your confession?”
“I felt exactly the same way about you. The first time you called me into your office, gave me one of your insulting little talks. I was so caught up listening to your voice, I couldn’t even concentrate on what you were saying. After that, well - even though I was still married, every time I slept with Kate, I was thinking of you.”
“So just now, when you were calling her name… you really were thinking of me.”
“It just became a bit of a bad habit, I guess.”
Tom reached out to embrace him, then leaned back on one elbow. “Jack, you are the most fucked-up individual I’ve ever met. And I say that as someone who's hacked people into little pieces with a sword.”
“Yeah, but it’s why you love me, isn’t it? It’s why everyone loves me.”
“That’s true.”
“So, now what?”
“Who knows?” Tom smiled, looking a little rueful. “Probably we just carry on by ourselves until next series, don’t you think? I suppose we’ll find out what happens then. In the meantime, I’m all sticky and sweaty and still quite bloody, and I think we could both do with a bit of a wash.” He slid off the bed and extended a hand to Jack.
The bed was far too comfortable to consider moving just yet. “But -”
“A wash, Cloth.”
Jack groaned, but gave in and let Tom pull him off the bed. Then he pressed up close against him, and kissed him one more time for good measure. “Okay, okay, fine. I guess for now you’re still the boss. Boss.”