A Permanent State - Torchwood - Gwen/Owen
Title: A Permanent State
Pairing: Gwen/Owen (mentions of Gwen/Rhys and Owen/Katie)
Word Count: 1100
Rating: NC-17
A/N: For 7_lies. Title from White Shadows by Coldplay.
Summary: "You men," she mutters, "you never think with your brain, do you?" - S1 PWP
He kisses her like he needs to, because nobody has made him feel this alive in years. Gwen is insufferable and infuriating and captivating. One kiss is all it takes - after that he can't pull away. He can't make himself pull away from her.
Just this once, he tells himself the first time. Just a one-night stand thing. Simple. Easy.
But 'just this once' turns into twice, three times, four, and after that he loses count and stops trying to justify it. What's the point? Don't think; just do.
And don't let her think about it either, 'cos he's not really up for listening to her guilt trip herself about what she's doing to poor old Rhys. Owen feels for the guy - really, he does - but it's not enough to make him stop. Gwen's lips might as well be laced with heroin. He can't stop now. He won't.
He struggles with the buttons of her shirt, too fast and too eager to slow down to negotiate the obstacle course of clothing properly. She giggles and follows through with him, her steady hands joining his to help undo her clothing. "You men," she mutters, "you never think with your brain, do you?"
He grins at her as the material slips from her shoulders, leaving her breasts round and plump in her black bra. God, she is beautiful. "Why would I need to?" he says. "I've got you for that."
With a small shove the pair of them fall onto the bed, connecting in any way they can with desperate hands and clumsy kisses. No one else kisses like Gwen; no one else can make Owen feel like the rest of the world is gone.
Someone else could, a long time ago.
He ignores that niggling memory. It's not important. Nothing is important but getting all of their bloody clothes out of the way. Getting Gwen naked seems like it ought to take over saving the world as his top priority at all moments. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he tells as he helps her wriggle out of her boots and jeans.
She laughs at him and grabs the top of his t-shirt to pull him down towards her, kissing him wet and open. They part only when she pulls his shirt over his head and throws it from the bed. "Get those jeans off, you twat," she says, pulling at his belt and trying not to laugh.
"Easy, easy," Owen says, taking over before she manages to rip something off. He ungracefully tugs his trousers off and rolls on top of her again, bare skin against bare skin with only their underwear in the way. "Now, where were we?"
She takes his hand in hers and guides it between her parted legs. He can feel a damp patch soaking through her black panties already and it's enough to make him groan. "I think we were right about here," Gwen suggests, with a grin the devil would be proud of.
"Jesus," Owen chokes, his fingers pressing against her through the material. She moans and squirms, her hand still guiding his and showing him exactly what she wants - Gwen's never been shy about that kind of stuff, has she?
Just like Katie, she's just like Katie.
But he doesn't think about that - about her - not now and not ever. He pushes her underwear to the side and slides his fingers over her hot cunt, watching a red flush come to Gwen's cheeks. His lips nudge against her jaw, skimming over her skin until he finds the side of her neck. Her head tilts back for him, pressed against the mattress as her hand winds its way to the back of his head to hold him there firmly.
"Can't wait to fuck you again, Gwen," he murmurs against her skin as his thumb finds her clit and circles it like prey and predator.
She presses his hand against her forcefully and holds him still. "Then don't wait," she instructs - and, fuck, in that tone of voice it's a goddamn order.
For once it's one that he has absolutely no trouble following. Their pants are shed quickly and he pulls away from her, for a split-second that still feels far too long, to reach over to the bedside cabinet and pull out a small sachet. "Hurry up," Gwen complains, wriggling underneath him impatiently.
He grins without looking at her - really can't afford the distraction or he'd never get this done - and opens the condom, rolling onto his cock as quickly as he can. Gwen's hand follows his, smoothing over the thin layer of protection. "Ready?" he says.
"Ready." She smiles at him, broad and beautiful, and parts her legs wider to let him get close.
His breath shudders as he enters her, enveloped in the tight heat of her cunt. Takes his breath away every time, doesn't it? It's amazing. She's amazing. She cries out and keens, her hands on his ass pulling him closer, deeper, tighter.
"I want you," she breaths against her ear. "God, I just want you."
"You got me," he answers breathlessly. "Might not've noticed that yet, but you've got me."
Her hand swats against his shoulder surreally and she rolls her hips back and forth, creating an unbelievable sensation that shudders right through him. "Get on with things, love."
Like he needs any more encouragement…
It's bliss to fuck inside her, absolute bliss that boils all the way through him, tip to toes. Her legs pull him tighter with every second, until he's thrusting so deep inside her sweet body that nothing else matters. He'd swear their skin could meld now and he wouldn't notice any difference.
Her fingernails scratch along his back; there will be marks there, red lines of pain that will make him smile while they're working in the Hub tomorrow.
"Owen. Oh, fuck, Owen," she gasps, breathless. Her hand slots between their bodies, working herself fast and desperate and it isn't long until Owen feels the tightening of her climax around him. His hand grips onto the outside of her thigh, driving into her harder, faster as he chases an orgasm that always seems one second away. "Cmon. C'mon, fuck."
She grabs his arse and he reaches the end point finally, spilling inside her as he freezes in place. For a few moments the world goes white and everything seems so very far away: Torchwood and aliens and Katie and even Gwen. They all fade into the background.
He pulls out of her and rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling of his apartment. Beside him, Gwen is already getting up and piecing her clothes again: no basking in the afterglow for her. In, out, and home to her Rhys. Owen is nothing more than a pleasant distraction - and she'd never let him forget that would she?
"See you tomorrow, then," Gwen says once she's dressed but still breathless.
Owen brushes his hand over his sweat-damp hair and chances a distracted wave: she can let herself out. Lying there and recovering, Owen doesn't think he's going to feel like moving again for a long while yet.
Pairing: Gwen/Owen (mentions of Gwen/Rhys and Owen/Katie)
Word Count: 1100
Rating: NC-17
A/N: For 7_lies. Title from White Shadows by Coldplay.
Summary: "You men," she mutters, "you never think with your brain, do you?" - S1 PWP
He kisses her like he needs to, because nobody has made him feel this alive in years. Gwen is insufferable and infuriating and captivating. One kiss is all it takes - after that he can't pull away. He can't make himself pull away from her.
Just this once, he tells himself the first time. Just a one-night stand thing. Simple. Easy.
But 'just this once' turns into twice, three times, four, and after that he loses count and stops trying to justify it. What's the point? Don't think; just do.
And don't let her think about it either, 'cos he's not really up for listening to her guilt trip herself about what she's doing to poor old Rhys. Owen feels for the guy - really, he does - but it's not enough to make him stop. Gwen's lips might as well be laced with heroin. He can't stop now. He won't.
He struggles with the buttons of her shirt, too fast and too eager to slow down to negotiate the obstacle course of clothing properly. She giggles and follows through with him, her steady hands joining his to help undo her clothing. "You men," she mutters, "you never think with your brain, do you?"
He grins at her as the material slips from her shoulders, leaving her breasts round and plump in her black bra. God, she is beautiful. "Why would I need to?" he says. "I've got you for that."
With a small shove the pair of them fall onto the bed, connecting in any way they can with desperate hands and clumsy kisses. No one else kisses like Gwen; no one else can make Owen feel like the rest of the world is gone.
Someone else could, a long time ago.
He ignores that niggling memory. It's not important. Nothing is important but getting all of their bloody clothes out of the way. Getting Gwen naked seems like it ought to take over saving the world as his top priority at all moments. "Fuck, you're gorgeous," he tells as he helps her wriggle out of her boots and jeans.
She laughs at him and grabs the top of his t-shirt to pull him down towards her, kissing him wet and open. They part only when she pulls his shirt over his head and throws it from the bed. "Get those jeans off, you twat," she says, pulling at his belt and trying not to laugh.
"Easy, easy," Owen says, taking over before she manages to rip something off. He ungracefully tugs his trousers off and rolls on top of her again, bare skin against bare skin with only their underwear in the way. "Now, where were we?"
She takes his hand in hers and guides it between her parted legs. He can feel a damp patch soaking through her black panties already and it's enough to make him groan. "I think we were right about here," Gwen suggests, with a grin the devil would be proud of.
"Jesus," Owen chokes, his fingers pressing against her through the material. She moans and squirms, her hand still guiding his and showing him exactly what she wants - Gwen's never been shy about that kind of stuff, has she?
Just like Katie, she's just like Katie.
But he doesn't think about that - about her - not now and not ever. He pushes her underwear to the side and slides his fingers over her hot cunt, watching a red flush come to Gwen's cheeks. His lips nudge against her jaw, skimming over her skin until he finds the side of her neck. Her head tilts back for him, pressed against the mattress as her hand winds its way to the back of his head to hold him there firmly.
"Can't wait to fuck you again, Gwen," he murmurs against her skin as his thumb finds her clit and circles it like prey and predator.
She presses his hand against her forcefully and holds him still. "Then don't wait," she instructs - and, fuck, in that tone of voice it's a goddamn order.
For once it's one that he has absolutely no trouble following. Their pants are shed quickly and he pulls away from her, for a split-second that still feels far too long, to reach over to the bedside cabinet and pull out a small sachet. "Hurry up," Gwen complains, wriggling underneath him impatiently.
He grins without looking at her - really can't afford the distraction or he'd never get this done - and opens the condom, rolling onto his cock as quickly as he can. Gwen's hand follows his, smoothing over the thin layer of protection. "Ready?" he says.
"Ready." She smiles at him, broad and beautiful, and parts her legs wider to let him get close.
His breath shudders as he enters her, enveloped in the tight heat of her cunt. Takes his breath away every time, doesn't it? It's amazing. She's amazing. She cries out and keens, her hands on his ass pulling him closer, deeper, tighter.
"I want you," she breaths against her ear. "God, I just want you."
"You got me," he answers breathlessly. "Might not've noticed that yet, but you've got me."
Her hand swats against his shoulder surreally and she rolls her hips back and forth, creating an unbelievable sensation that shudders right through him. "Get on with things, love."
Like he needs any more encouragement…
It's bliss to fuck inside her, absolute bliss that boils all the way through him, tip to toes. Her legs pull him tighter with every second, until he's thrusting so deep inside her sweet body that nothing else matters. He'd swear their skin could meld now and he wouldn't notice any difference.
Her fingernails scratch along his back; there will be marks there, red lines of pain that will make him smile while they're working in the Hub tomorrow.
"Owen. Oh, fuck, Owen," she gasps, breathless. Her hand slots between their bodies, working herself fast and desperate and it isn't long until Owen feels the tightening of her climax around him. His hand grips onto the outside of her thigh, driving into her harder, faster as he chases an orgasm that always seems one second away. "Cmon. C'mon, fuck."
She grabs his arse and he reaches the end point finally, spilling inside her as he freezes in place. For a few moments the world goes white and everything seems so very far away: Torchwood and aliens and Katie and even Gwen. They all fade into the background.
He pulls out of her and rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling of his apartment. Beside him, Gwen is already getting up and piecing her clothes again: no basking in the afterglow for her. In, out, and home to her Rhys. Owen is nothing more than a pleasant distraction - and she'd never let him forget that would she?
"See you tomorrow, then," Gwen says once she's dressed but still breathless.
Owen brushes his hand over his sweat-damp hair and chances a distracted wave: she can let herself out. Lying there and recovering, Owen doesn't think he's going to feel like moving again for a long while yet.