Torchwood/Heroes crossover fic. Jack/Noah NC17 Wordcount-4030
Title: Weren't You the Boy Who Used to Live Next Door?
Fandom: Torchwood/Heroes crossover
Pairing: Jack Harkness/Noah Bennet
Wordcount: 4015
Rating: NC17 (Was there ever a doubt?)
Notes/Warnings: Giftfic for kohl_rimmed_eye, who liked a Jack/Noah dialogue I did a few months back. She wanted more and when it comes to Ms. Eye, I'm just a girl who cain't say no. Nothing particularly spoileriffic unless you know zilch about either fandom. Love and hugs to hllangel for having the cojones to confiscate my shivers and a jiggle. Trust me, it's for the best.
Summary: Noah asks for help. Jack provides more than he expects.
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Claire Bennet really was a beautiful girl. So, Jack wondered, why wasn’t he at least trying to flirt with her?
If he’d been at least a century younger, he would have seriously considered ways to find out which day of the week she had on right now. To be honest, Jack had stopped letting his chronological age influence these decisions long before the Archduke was assassinated, so that wasn’t the problem.
How about the fact that she’d just shot him in the head with his own gun?
Violence had never been a turn-off before, as a certain former partner could certainly attest to. The immortality just made things that much more exciting because of how much he could take and still come back.
He’d gotten so good at lying to other people, even ones he was supposed to care about, that occasionally he slipped and fell for his own con. Enough of that. He knew damn well why he hadn’t turned the full force of the Harkness Charm on the girl with the sweet smile and sad eyes, whose response to seeing his latest return to life was, “That is so cool.”
It was the man standing attentively nearby, taking in the whole scene; her father.
Fathers, attentive, irate or otherwise, weren’t generally an obstacle to Jack getting what he wanted, but Noah Bennet was no ordinary father.
For one thing, he knew about Jack’s situation, if not the cause, something no one outside of Torchwood and damn few within were supposed to be aware of. He’d known where to find Jack and brought along an associate with some disturbing skills of his own. Just the sense of another consciousness poking at the edges of his gave Jack a bad case of the heebie-jeebies.
Jack’s initial instinct was to shoot first and ask questions when he was safely back at the Hub, and could ask Toshiko to find out who the hell Noah Bennet was. His second was to buy a round of ret-con for the house, yet somehow he’d ended up on a plane to the United States to meet a girl named Claire.
He told himself that he’d been moved by Noah’s emotional appeal. Maybe it was true, but he rarely did anything out of pure altruism, even when it was the right thing to do. If it just so happened that he had a recurring attraction to men who wore glasses and carried palpable boatloads of guilt, Jack knew better than let it show while giving the man’s daughter an abbreviated version of his life on Earth.
After getting over the initial amazement, Claire started peppering him with questions. Jack tried to focus on what he could do to help a sixteen year old cope with something that no one should ever have to face. He sensed the fear and desperation hiding just behind the perky façade and tried to offer emotional support as much as helpful hints about playing possum and fending off personal entanglements. He even offered his special recipe for making sure she wasn’t remembered, only to have her reject it with the kind of revulsion only an adolescent can adequately express. Jack thought she might actually be ill as he watched a look pass between Claire and her father that left Noah wincing and Jack confused.
It was just as well he’d never gotten to raise any children if it was going to bother him this much that he’d clearly gone down several levels in a teenager’s estimation. In Jack’s life, hero-worship was too close to love and other forms of attraction. This way, he wouldn’t have to drag out any of the excuses he’d already jettisoned in his own mind including the one she’d probably believe the most: Dad. Which would be true, although not the way she’d think it was.
“How do I live with this and not end up doing something like that?” she asked plaintively, her voice hinging between that of a distressed adult and a whining child.
Someday she’d have his perspective and callousness, especially if fate kept her young and desirable, but she wasn’t there yet. Jack didn’t want to be the one to accelerate the process by letting her know exactly how much of a bastard he really was. Of course, he’d more or less been that guy long before he got hit with a Time Vortex. He was what he was and all the dashing heroics in the world wouldn’t change it, but giving Claire any further insight into the darker parts of his heart wouldn’t help either of them.
Instead he gave her a hug that could barely be called one.
“Don’t take it for granted and try not to hurt anybody who doesn’t deserve it.”
How much hypocrisy could he fit into one sentence?
Claire would have to find her way to that kind of acceptance and decency. Then maybe he could ask her how to do it. For Jack, there was still the bleakness of knowing that there was no cure and that the only being in the universe who could understand, the man he’d been waiting for all those years, wanted nothing to do with him, the most-recent offer notwithstanding. Jack knew obligation when he heard it. He wanted more than that.
Jack promised himself that he’d be there for Claire if she ever needed him, but even while the hug changed from decorous to slightly desperate, he was meeting Noah’s eyes over the top of Claire’s head.
“Call me. If you need anything. Anytime. Ever.”
Hopefully it was a promise he’d be able to keep, unlike so many others
He watched the good-bye between Noah and Claire. The connection between the two was strong enough to make Jack ache for all the loves he’d lost, including the ones he couldn’t remember. It was obvious that Noah wasn’t driving him to the airport and coming back for dinner; the decision had been made that Claire was safer not seeing her father. Noah’s hope that Jack could help Claire make sense of her power was worth a temporary exception but didn’t change the situation.
Noah made a perfunctory attempt to find something on the radio ending up only with static and flat American voices screaming at each other, before turning it off, leaving them with silence. Jack hated silence. Noah didn’t seem to like it much either.
“Thank you, Jack.”
“She’s a great kid.”
Their stabs at conversation bumped into each other like clumsy guests at a crowded party, leading to an instance of eye contact where Jack saw the depth of Noah’s pain, but also caught a slight narrowing and a head shake that Jack read as rejection.
He indulged in a mental shrug. It would have been fun, but a few more hours would find him in Cardiff. Back to his people; all of them.
The road lulled him enough to close his eyes, until they snapped open. Noah’s driving, which had been reliably smooth and, by Torchwood standards, slightly pokey had gotten faster; much faster.
Jack took note of Noah’s tight grip on the wheel and his constant monitoring of the rear-view. A glance at this side mirror displayed the object of concern. Sleek, black and rapidly gaining on them. The car they’d picked up at the airport was a Ford Escort.
“This could be a problem,” he pointed out, as though he were imparting something Noah wasn’t already aware of.
“Thanks for the bulletin.”
“Friends of yours?” Jack asked, opening his coat to make his gun more accessible.
“I was hoping they were after you.”
Noah managed a grin, which brought out the boyishness of his features and gave Jack a reminder of why he’d really made this journey in the first place.
Jack could count several lifetimes worth of enemies, but didn’t think any of them could be here and now. He’d done a good job of laying low. Or maybe not as good as he thought..
“How did you manage to find me? I don’t officially exist.?”
“It’s my job.”
That would have to do for the time being, since the black car was getting closer. Jack could tell that Noah would give up his life for Claire, but only if it would accomplish something, which this little two-lane blacktop encounter wouldn’t.
“We can’t outrun them in this thing.”
He watched Noah’s jaw tighten and pushed his mind out of the gutter and back to the danger.
“Any suggestions, Captain?" came the pointed response, along with the surge of speed as Noah tried to push the Escort beyond its capabilities.
“I distract them and you shoot them.”
An oldie, but goodie as Americans liked to say.
“And exactly what kind of distraction did you have in mind?” Jack didn’t bother to answer.
"That’s your idea of not taking it for granted?” Noah looked seriously pissed by Jack’s willingness to give up his life, no matter how temporarily.
“It’s my idea of surviving.”
“Do you really have a choice?”
“I don’t want you dying on my watch. I assume you’ve got a gun.” There was a noncommittal nod. “Get ready to use it, because here they come.”
Jack watched, poised to shoot, as the car, a Camaro as it turned out, caught up, flashed its lights and proceeded to pass them, fading into the distance at the same insane speed, having shown no interest in them whatsoever.
“And there they go,” Noah noted dryly, easing off the pedal and allowing the car to return to a speed that would get them to the airport without a police incident or vehicular manslaughter.
He felt the adrenaline surge giving way to giddy relief, which led to a fit of giggling. Unseemly and completely contagious as it turned out. Noah had to pull over to the first shoulder that came in sight so they could safely laugh their arses off at the mutual paranoia. Noah’s laughter was lower pitched than Jacks’s but equally full-blooded and slightly hysterical. As terrifying as the buildup had been, this release was clearly needed. Jack took advantage, thinking it would be the only one he’d get with this man.
“Do you think they’re late for a flight,” he asked, re-igniting the madness, just when it seemed to be ebbing.
He could actually feel the tears in his eyes. How long had it been since he’d laughed until he cried? Decades? Centuries. Sometime in the future, with Rose and the Doctor? He might have been tipped back toward self-pity, if he hadn’t noticed that Noah had tears in his too and they weren’t from laughter.
Jack instinctively reached out, risking rejection, or something worse. Noah allowed it, letting himself be held, even permitting Jack to touch his hair and gently brush the side of his face.
“I’ve done terrible things,” he whispered.
“We all have,” Jack replied, hoping they weren’t heading for a round of confessions. It would take too long and Jack had enough of his own guilt to live with for how ever long that was going to be. One role he’d never taken, even as cover story, was holy orders, specifically for that reason.
For all the boyishness of face and soft, brown hair, Noah was a big man, strong in Jack’s arms. When Jack decided to try a kiss, it wasn’t just accepted, it was met with full force and hands gripping his shoulders. Jack wanted to close his eyes and let it happen, but they were in a car on the open road in the middle of the afternoon. In America. His mind formed the word, “hotel,” but before he could speak, Noah had reverted to whatever his job entailed and was glancing sideways toward the road in front of them.
“They’re coming back, aren’t they?”
He knew the answer before the saw the black speck. The look on Noah’s face was grim, but determined. Whoever was in that car had been given a chance. It was their last one.
By the time the Camaro came hurtling down the highway, aimed at their car like a heat seeking missile, Jack and Noah were ready with guns drawn. Between Jack taking out the front left tire and Noah emptying a full clip from his Smith and Wesson directly into the gas tank, the black menace was transformed into a fireball, as it skidded across two lanes, turning over three times and burning itself out in the dry grass on the other side of the road.
Jack felt the heat of the explosion, but he couldn’t stop looking at Noah. He guessed that the man already had a high body count, despite his initially benign appearance. It was hard to tell exactly how the new casualties were affecting him. Jack wanted to reach out again, but he wasn’t sure if the previous moment of closeness had been hello or goodbye.
“There must be a hotel around here somewhere,” Noah said without looking at him.
Hello, Jack thought.
Where there’s an airport, there’s a hotel. Or something with rooms for rent anyway. It was clean and functional, and Jack had been in much worse. It had a bed, although for Jack, that wasn’t a necessity either.
“I’m taking a shower,” Noah announced. He didn’t invite Jack to join him leaving Jack to wonder if the shower would be hot or cold. Either Noah wanted to wash away the fear and dirt of a long day, or he felt what Jack felt and couldn’t cope. Typical American male. Jack knew a few things about so-called all-American boys, but Noah had a daughter and still wore a wedding ring. On the other hand, Jack was Jack. Smile and pheromones up against conventional morality. Then he remembered the look on Noah’s face as he was firing his gun. So much for conventional morality.
Jack took his coat and boots off, and made himself comfortable on the bed while calculating the odds. Sixty-forty in his favour, he decided, hoping he wasn’t being overly optimistic. Ah well, it wasn’t as much fun to know the outcome every time.
His next surprise was Noah Bennet, wearing nothing but a towel and his glasses. Jack smiled, but didn’t laugh. What might have looked ridiculous on another man, seemed perfectly right on this one. Still in good shape for his age, with more pronounced musculature in the back and shoulders than Jack would have thought from seeing him dressed.
“Hello,” Jack said, out loud this time, investing the word with as much invitation as he knew how, which was quite a bit.
Noah seemed to be poised between asking the questions that Jack didn’t want to hear and acting on the moment and what they both wanted from it. If it came to it, he’d give the same answer he’d given the real Captain Jack, there was no one in his life important enough to stop him from doing this. If Noah needed to unburden himself or make excuses for why he shouldn’t, Jack was prepared to work with that, but what he really wanted was for Noah Bennet to take off that towel and let Jack make them both happy.
“Hello,” came the soft reply, and with a tug the towel fell to the floor.
Hel-lo.
Jack reached up to start unbuttoning his shirt, only to hear Noah say,
“I’ll take care of that,” in a low voice that made Jack breathe in and out quickly at the implications.
Noah took two quick strides and joined him, stopping only to take off the glasses and put them next to the lamp on the small chest of drawers by the bed, pretty much the same spot where Jack had helpfully placed the a few necessities in case things went the way they seemed to be going.
He hadn’t planned on Noah undoing buttons, tugging down braces and generally getting Jack out of his clothes nearly as fast as he might have himself, and he certainly hadn’t imagined Noah Bennet on top of him, hands grasping his shoulders and kissing him deeply with no hint of hesitation or inexperience.
It had been a long time since Jack had the freedom to lie back and let someone else take charge. He was a top by nature and often out of circumstance. Ianto, for instance: acquiescent, but never dominant.
“Noah,” he murmured coyly, when he had the chance and ability to speak, because the other man had relinquished his mouth only to start moving down toward his neck, biting not at all gently.
“I had a partner once,” Noah replied.
Jack took a few minutes to absorb this information, as well the definitive past tense, before relaxing into whatever expertise Noah had acquired from his “partner.” Noah continued to mark Jack as his, at least for this moment in this place and time. Jack heard the unfamiliar sound of his own voice making the same gasping needy sounds he usually heard from his lovers. It was a nice sound, a good feeling, his body was responding to the mouth, to the novelty, to everything that had happened and was happening.
Noah’s need for control clearly matched something that had been lurking unmet in Jack’s psyche for longer than he wanted to remember.
Fuck! he gasped, as Noah found out how sensitive he was around the rib-cage and stomach, making him squirm with pleasure. He was hard now, ready, and yet he knew it would be ages, or at least minutes before he’d able to do anything about it. Torture, delicious torture, as Noah brushed the back of his hand against Jack’s erection. The hand that still had a ring on it. Jack was far beyond worrying too much about other people’s relationships. They made their choices and sex was sometimes a treat and sometimes a punishment, but never the deciding factor.
Now it was his legs, specifically inner thighs, with Noah’s hands and long fingers playing over the surface, soft touches, alternating with bites that were only seconds of pressure from breaking the skin. The bruises wouldn’t last long enough to need an explanation, not that he’d offer one.
“Please,” he gasped.
“Not yet.”
How could a man sound so ordinary and yet have Jack Harkness flat on his back, begging for release at the sound of his voice?
Hands were moving underneath, squeezing his arse, kneading the base of his spine. More obscenities came from his mouth, in several languages. Noah said something that took Jack a second to figure out until he realised it was in Japanese and pure filth, which made his cock strain upwards.
He generally didn’t often take verbal abuse well, but in the right mouth and the right language? He would do anything Noah asked right now. On his back, on his knees, or hanging from a tree, if there happened be one convenient, and all Noah was asking, demanding, was that he continue to accept pleasure and come when it was allowed. He could do that. He would do that.
Mouth on his cock. Fingers against his arsehole. Sweat dripping down his forehead.
The details were melting into overwhelming sensation, as his mind attempted to keep it sorted and failed. He wanted a clear memory of how it felt to have Noah sucking his cock, but was allowed only the concept of heat and wet and a tongue lapping at his balls, teasing lower and farther back.
“Fuck. Noah. Jesus. Please. No. Anything.”
Babbling like an idiot. If they could see him now. Any of them. Old lovers. Lovers to be. The one he wanted more than any and couldn’t have. He nearly got lost in the grunting, sweet mass of feelings until he realized that Noah was nudging him onto his stomach. Finally.
He’d left protection and lubricant on the nightstand and it sounded like Noah was using both. Courteous even while he was whispering obscenities into Jack’s ear, and sucking hard against the back of his neck, and pulling Jack onto his knees. Jack felt himself arching against the suction as if he were willing to let Noah devour him utterly, which for that moment, he was.
The initial sear of entry, followed by spreading warmth and then the fire within. Like the car they’d demolished, he was burning up inside and out as Noah took him, driving his cock in and out, flesh hitting flesh, and a hand cradling Jack’s own cock, stroking, squeezing.
Jack felt himself achieving the ultimate high for an Agent, losing all sense of time itself. He had no idea how long Noah was fucking him, making Jack moan with every thrust. Forever or no time at all, until he came, screaming Noah’s name and letting go of everything that weighed him down and made him wonder what the world was about. Right now it was about this and nothing else and that was enough.
He rarely slept because he hated waking up. Sleeping was too close to death, even when it was the aftermath of delicious, sex-induced weariness.
“What….where…Noah?”
“You’re okay.”
He’d be the judge of that. Naked. Bruised. Sore. Sticky. Not quite ready for round two, but willing to consider it. Yeah, he was okay, especially since Noah was still in bed with him, although he’d put the glasses back on and was watching the local news, which was reporting a rather unfortunate accident involving a black Chevrolet Camaro.
“Can I get some answers now?”
Noah looked at him, and this time Jack was able to keep his mind on business with only a brief thought of how much he’d like to put a few marks on Noah’s smooth torso, especially in the vicinity of his left nipple. Concentrate.
“I owe you that much.”
“No,” he couldn’t keep the grin off his face, ”I definitely owe you, but I need to know what the hell’s going on. Who was in the car?”
“I don’t know.”
Jack wasn’t having it and he let Noah know the jig was up by pulling him down for a kiss, glasses and all, not letting him go until Jack was sure he left some bruising of his own.
“There are people I’m trying to protect. Claire and others like her. They have powers. Flying. Telepathy. Things you wouldn’t believe. Well, you might. And there are people who want to hurt them. They’ll stop at nothing.”
Jack thought that sounded melodramatic, but he was the head of Torchwood, so he couldn’t cast judgment on the danger Noah’s people might be facing.
“Are you sure they’re not aliens?”
“Aliens? You think my daughter is an alien?”
These special people sounded like something that could have come through the rift, but this wasn’t something Noah wanted to hear. He’d have Tosh check it out when he got back. The flying must have attracted some attention.
“No. Of course not, and I meant what I said. If she ever needs anything. I’m there.”
“I appreciate that.”
“For you too.”
Noah didn’t seem able to answer, so Jack picked up where he’d left off, wondering how much control he’d be allowed this time. Not much. Noah pushed him away, almost thoughtfully.
“I know things. You know things.”
“You definitely know things,” Jack said, almost breathlessly, until he realised those weren’t the kind of things Noah was talking about.
“What if somebody doesn’t want us sharing information?”
“Then that sounds like the best reason to do it.” Jack had never taken well to having facts withheld.
“And maybe I can show you some of the other things I know,” Noah said with a raise of his eyebrows.
“There’s more?” Jack replied, feigning a bit of the innocence he’d never really had.
“I’ll bet you can show me some things too.”
“If you’ll let me…”
“I’ll let you,” said Noah in his soft, serious voice.
“Where do you want to start? Sex, information or both?”
Noah took off his glasses and lay back on the bed, spreading his arms and legs wide for Jack’s appreciation.
“Have you ever heard of The Company?
Fandom: Torchwood/Heroes crossover
Pairing: Jack Harkness/Noah Bennet
Wordcount: 4015
Rating: NC17 (Was there ever a doubt?)
Notes/Warnings: Giftfic for kohl_rimmed_eye, who liked a Jack/Noah dialogue I did a few months back. She wanted more and when it comes to Ms. Eye, I'm just a girl who cain't say no. Nothing particularly spoileriffic unless you know zilch about either fandom. Love and hugs to hllangel for having the cojones to confiscate my shivers and a jiggle. Trust me, it's for the best.
Summary: Noah asks for help. Jack provides more than he expects.
Also available on
A03
Teaspoon
FF.Net
Dreamwidth
Claire Bennet really was a beautiful girl. So, Jack wondered, why wasn’t he at least trying to flirt with her?
If he’d been at least a century younger, he would have seriously considered ways to find out which day of the week she had on right now. To be honest, Jack had stopped letting his chronological age influence these decisions long before the Archduke was assassinated, so that wasn’t the problem.
How about the fact that she’d just shot him in the head with his own gun?
Violence had never been a turn-off before, as a certain former partner could certainly attest to. The immortality just made things that much more exciting because of how much he could take and still come back.
He’d gotten so good at lying to other people, even ones he was supposed to care about, that occasionally he slipped and fell for his own con. Enough of that. He knew damn well why he hadn’t turned the full force of the Harkness Charm on the girl with the sweet smile and sad eyes, whose response to seeing his latest return to life was, “That is so cool.”
It was the man standing attentively nearby, taking in the whole scene; her father.
Fathers, attentive, irate or otherwise, weren’t generally an obstacle to Jack getting what he wanted, but Noah Bennet was no ordinary father.
For one thing, he knew about Jack’s situation, if not the cause, something no one outside of Torchwood and damn few within were supposed to be aware of. He’d known where to find Jack and brought along an associate with some disturbing skills of his own. Just the sense of another consciousness poking at the edges of his gave Jack a bad case of the heebie-jeebies.
Jack’s initial instinct was to shoot first and ask questions when he was safely back at the Hub, and could ask Toshiko to find out who the hell Noah Bennet was. His second was to buy a round of ret-con for the house, yet somehow he’d ended up on a plane to the United States to meet a girl named Claire.
He told himself that he’d been moved by Noah’s emotional appeal. Maybe it was true, but he rarely did anything out of pure altruism, even when it was the right thing to do. If it just so happened that he had a recurring attraction to men who wore glasses and carried palpable boatloads of guilt, Jack knew better than let it show while giving the man’s daughter an abbreviated version of his life on Earth.
After getting over the initial amazement, Claire started peppering him with questions. Jack tried to focus on what he could do to help a sixteen year old cope with something that no one should ever have to face. He sensed the fear and desperation hiding just behind the perky façade and tried to offer emotional support as much as helpful hints about playing possum and fending off personal entanglements. He even offered his special recipe for making sure she wasn’t remembered, only to have her reject it with the kind of revulsion only an adolescent can adequately express. Jack thought she might actually be ill as he watched a look pass between Claire and her father that left Noah wincing and Jack confused.
It was just as well he’d never gotten to raise any children if it was going to bother him this much that he’d clearly gone down several levels in a teenager’s estimation. In Jack’s life, hero-worship was too close to love and other forms of attraction. This way, he wouldn’t have to drag out any of the excuses he’d already jettisoned in his own mind including the one she’d probably believe the most: Dad. Which would be true, although not the way she’d think it was.
“How do I live with this and not end up doing something like that?” she asked plaintively, her voice hinging between that of a distressed adult and a whining child.
Someday she’d have his perspective and callousness, especially if fate kept her young and desirable, but she wasn’t there yet. Jack didn’t want to be the one to accelerate the process by letting her know exactly how much of a bastard he really was. Of course, he’d more or less been that guy long before he got hit with a Time Vortex. He was what he was and all the dashing heroics in the world wouldn’t change it, but giving Claire any further insight into the darker parts of his heart wouldn’t help either of them.
Instead he gave her a hug that could barely be called one.
“Don’t take it for granted and try not to hurt anybody who doesn’t deserve it.”
How much hypocrisy could he fit into one sentence?
Claire would have to find her way to that kind of acceptance and decency. Then maybe he could ask her how to do it. For Jack, there was still the bleakness of knowing that there was no cure and that the only being in the universe who could understand, the man he’d been waiting for all those years, wanted nothing to do with him, the most-recent offer notwithstanding. Jack knew obligation when he heard it. He wanted more than that.
Jack promised himself that he’d be there for Claire if she ever needed him, but even while the hug changed from decorous to slightly desperate, he was meeting Noah’s eyes over the top of Claire’s head.
“Call me. If you need anything. Anytime. Ever.”
Hopefully it was a promise he’d be able to keep, unlike so many others
He watched the good-bye between Noah and Claire. The connection between the two was strong enough to make Jack ache for all the loves he’d lost, including the ones he couldn’t remember. It was obvious that Noah wasn’t driving him to the airport and coming back for dinner; the decision had been made that Claire was safer not seeing her father. Noah’s hope that Jack could help Claire make sense of her power was worth a temporary exception but didn’t change the situation.
Noah made a perfunctory attempt to find something on the radio ending up only with static and flat American voices screaming at each other, before turning it off, leaving them with silence. Jack hated silence. Noah didn’t seem to like it much either.
“Thank you, Jack.”
“She’s a great kid.”
Their stabs at conversation bumped into each other like clumsy guests at a crowded party, leading to an instance of eye contact where Jack saw the depth of Noah’s pain, but also caught a slight narrowing and a head shake that Jack read as rejection.
He indulged in a mental shrug. It would have been fun, but a few more hours would find him in Cardiff. Back to his people; all of them.
The road lulled him enough to close his eyes, until they snapped open. Noah’s driving, which had been reliably smooth and, by Torchwood standards, slightly pokey had gotten faster; much faster.
Jack took note of Noah’s tight grip on the wheel and his constant monitoring of the rear-view. A glance at this side mirror displayed the object of concern. Sleek, black and rapidly gaining on them. The car they’d picked up at the airport was a Ford Escort.
“This could be a problem,” he pointed out, as though he were imparting something Noah wasn’t already aware of.
“Thanks for the bulletin.”
“Friends of yours?” Jack asked, opening his coat to make his gun more accessible.
“I was hoping they were after you.”
Noah managed a grin, which brought out the boyishness of his features and gave Jack a reminder of why he’d really made this journey in the first place.
Jack could count several lifetimes worth of enemies, but didn’t think any of them could be here and now. He’d done a good job of laying low. Or maybe not as good as he thought..
“How did you manage to find me? I don’t officially exist.?”
“It’s my job.”
That would have to do for the time being, since the black car was getting closer. Jack could tell that Noah would give up his life for Claire, but only if it would accomplish something, which this little two-lane blacktop encounter wouldn’t.
“We can’t outrun them in this thing.”
He watched Noah’s jaw tighten and pushed his mind out of the gutter and back to the danger.
“Any suggestions, Captain?" came the pointed response, along with the surge of speed as Noah tried to push the Escort beyond its capabilities.
“I distract them and you shoot them.”
An oldie, but goodie as Americans liked to say.
“And exactly what kind of distraction did you have in mind?” Jack didn’t bother to answer.
"That’s your idea of not taking it for granted?” Noah looked seriously pissed by Jack’s willingness to give up his life, no matter how temporarily.
“It’s my idea of surviving.”
“Do you really have a choice?”
“I don’t want you dying on my watch. I assume you’ve got a gun.” There was a noncommittal nod. “Get ready to use it, because here they come.”
Jack watched, poised to shoot, as the car, a Camaro as it turned out, caught up, flashed its lights and proceeded to pass them, fading into the distance at the same insane speed, having shown no interest in them whatsoever.
“And there they go,” Noah noted dryly, easing off the pedal and allowing the car to return to a speed that would get them to the airport without a police incident or vehicular manslaughter.
He felt the adrenaline surge giving way to giddy relief, which led to a fit of giggling. Unseemly and completely contagious as it turned out. Noah had to pull over to the first shoulder that came in sight so they could safely laugh their arses off at the mutual paranoia. Noah’s laughter was lower pitched than Jacks’s but equally full-blooded and slightly hysterical. As terrifying as the buildup had been, this release was clearly needed. Jack took advantage, thinking it would be the only one he’d get with this man.
“Do you think they’re late for a flight,” he asked, re-igniting the madness, just when it seemed to be ebbing.
He could actually feel the tears in his eyes. How long had it been since he’d laughed until he cried? Decades? Centuries. Sometime in the future, with Rose and the Doctor? He might have been tipped back toward self-pity, if he hadn’t noticed that Noah had tears in his too and they weren’t from laughter.
Jack instinctively reached out, risking rejection, or something worse. Noah allowed it, letting himself be held, even permitting Jack to touch his hair and gently brush the side of his face.
“I’ve done terrible things,” he whispered.
“We all have,” Jack replied, hoping they weren’t heading for a round of confessions. It would take too long and Jack had enough of his own guilt to live with for how ever long that was going to be. One role he’d never taken, even as cover story, was holy orders, specifically for that reason.
For all the boyishness of face and soft, brown hair, Noah was a big man, strong in Jack’s arms. When Jack decided to try a kiss, it wasn’t just accepted, it was met with full force and hands gripping his shoulders. Jack wanted to close his eyes and let it happen, but they were in a car on the open road in the middle of the afternoon. In America. His mind formed the word, “hotel,” but before he could speak, Noah had reverted to whatever his job entailed and was glancing sideways toward the road in front of them.
“They’re coming back, aren’t they?”
He knew the answer before the saw the black speck. The look on Noah’s face was grim, but determined. Whoever was in that car had been given a chance. It was their last one.
By the time the Camaro came hurtling down the highway, aimed at their car like a heat seeking missile, Jack and Noah were ready with guns drawn. Between Jack taking out the front left tire and Noah emptying a full clip from his Smith and Wesson directly into the gas tank, the black menace was transformed into a fireball, as it skidded across two lanes, turning over three times and burning itself out in the dry grass on the other side of the road.
Jack felt the heat of the explosion, but he couldn’t stop looking at Noah. He guessed that the man already had a high body count, despite his initially benign appearance. It was hard to tell exactly how the new casualties were affecting him. Jack wanted to reach out again, but he wasn’t sure if the previous moment of closeness had been hello or goodbye.
“There must be a hotel around here somewhere,” Noah said without looking at him.
Hello, Jack thought.
Where there’s an airport, there’s a hotel. Or something with rooms for rent anyway. It was clean and functional, and Jack had been in much worse. It had a bed, although for Jack, that wasn’t a necessity either.
“I’m taking a shower,” Noah announced. He didn’t invite Jack to join him leaving Jack to wonder if the shower would be hot or cold. Either Noah wanted to wash away the fear and dirt of a long day, or he felt what Jack felt and couldn’t cope. Typical American male. Jack knew a few things about so-called all-American boys, but Noah had a daughter and still wore a wedding ring. On the other hand, Jack was Jack. Smile and pheromones up against conventional morality. Then he remembered the look on Noah’s face as he was firing his gun. So much for conventional morality.
Jack took his coat and boots off, and made himself comfortable on the bed while calculating the odds. Sixty-forty in his favour, he decided, hoping he wasn’t being overly optimistic. Ah well, it wasn’t as much fun to know the outcome every time.
His next surprise was Noah Bennet, wearing nothing but a towel and his glasses. Jack smiled, but didn’t laugh. What might have looked ridiculous on another man, seemed perfectly right on this one. Still in good shape for his age, with more pronounced musculature in the back and shoulders than Jack would have thought from seeing him dressed.
“Hello,” Jack said, out loud this time, investing the word with as much invitation as he knew how, which was quite a bit.
Noah seemed to be poised between asking the questions that Jack didn’t want to hear and acting on the moment and what they both wanted from it. If it came to it, he’d give the same answer he’d given the real Captain Jack, there was no one in his life important enough to stop him from doing this. If Noah needed to unburden himself or make excuses for why he shouldn’t, Jack was prepared to work with that, but what he really wanted was for Noah Bennet to take off that towel and let Jack make them both happy.
“Hello,” came the soft reply, and with a tug the towel fell to the floor.
Hel-lo.
Jack reached up to start unbuttoning his shirt, only to hear Noah say,
“I’ll take care of that,” in a low voice that made Jack breathe in and out quickly at the implications.
Noah took two quick strides and joined him, stopping only to take off the glasses and put them next to the lamp on the small chest of drawers by the bed, pretty much the same spot where Jack had helpfully placed the a few necessities in case things went the way they seemed to be going.
He hadn’t planned on Noah undoing buttons, tugging down braces and generally getting Jack out of his clothes nearly as fast as he might have himself, and he certainly hadn’t imagined Noah Bennet on top of him, hands grasping his shoulders and kissing him deeply with no hint of hesitation or inexperience.
It had been a long time since Jack had the freedom to lie back and let someone else take charge. He was a top by nature and often out of circumstance. Ianto, for instance: acquiescent, but never dominant.
“Noah,” he murmured coyly, when he had the chance and ability to speak, because the other man had relinquished his mouth only to start moving down toward his neck, biting not at all gently.
“I had a partner once,” Noah replied.
Jack took a few minutes to absorb this information, as well the definitive past tense, before relaxing into whatever expertise Noah had acquired from his “partner.” Noah continued to mark Jack as his, at least for this moment in this place and time. Jack heard the unfamiliar sound of his own voice making the same gasping needy sounds he usually heard from his lovers. It was a nice sound, a good feeling, his body was responding to the mouth, to the novelty, to everything that had happened and was happening.
Noah’s need for control clearly matched something that had been lurking unmet in Jack’s psyche for longer than he wanted to remember.
Fuck! he gasped, as Noah found out how sensitive he was around the rib-cage and stomach, making him squirm with pleasure. He was hard now, ready, and yet he knew it would be ages, or at least minutes before he’d able to do anything about it. Torture, delicious torture, as Noah brushed the back of his hand against Jack’s erection. The hand that still had a ring on it. Jack was far beyond worrying too much about other people’s relationships. They made their choices and sex was sometimes a treat and sometimes a punishment, but never the deciding factor.
Now it was his legs, specifically inner thighs, with Noah’s hands and long fingers playing over the surface, soft touches, alternating with bites that were only seconds of pressure from breaking the skin. The bruises wouldn’t last long enough to need an explanation, not that he’d offer one.
“Please,” he gasped.
“Not yet.”
How could a man sound so ordinary and yet have Jack Harkness flat on his back, begging for release at the sound of his voice?
Hands were moving underneath, squeezing his arse, kneading the base of his spine. More obscenities came from his mouth, in several languages. Noah said something that took Jack a second to figure out until he realised it was in Japanese and pure filth, which made his cock strain upwards.
He generally didn’t often take verbal abuse well, but in the right mouth and the right language? He would do anything Noah asked right now. On his back, on his knees, or hanging from a tree, if there happened be one convenient, and all Noah was asking, demanding, was that he continue to accept pleasure and come when it was allowed. He could do that. He would do that.
Mouth on his cock. Fingers against his arsehole. Sweat dripping down his forehead.
The details were melting into overwhelming sensation, as his mind attempted to keep it sorted and failed. He wanted a clear memory of how it felt to have Noah sucking his cock, but was allowed only the concept of heat and wet and a tongue lapping at his balls, teasing lower and farther back.
“Fuck. Noah. Jesus. Please. No. Anything.”
Babbling like an idiot. If they could see him now. Any of them. Old lovers. Lovers to be. The one he wanted more than any and couldn’t have. He nearly got lost in the grunting, sweet mass of feelings until he realized that Noah was nudging him onto his stomach. Finally.
He’d left protection and lubricant on the nightstand and it sounded like Noah was using both. Courteous even while he was whispering obscenities into Jack’s ear, and sucking hard against the back of his neck, and pulling Jack onto his knees. Jack felt himself arching against the suction as if he were willing to let Noah devour him utterly, which for that moment, he was.
The initial sear of entry, followed by spreading warmth and then the fire within. Like the car they’d demolished, he was burning up inside and out as Noah took him, driving his cock in and out, flesh hitting flesh, and a hand cradling Jack’s own cock, stroking, squeezing.
Jack felt himself achieving the ultimate high for an Agent, losing all sense of time itself. He had no idea how long Noah was fucking him, making Jack moan with every thrust. Forever or no time at all, until he came, screaming Noah’s name and letting go of everything that weighed him down and made him wonder what the world was about. Right now it was about this and nothing else and that was enough.
He rarely slept because he hated waking up. Sleeping was too close to death, even when it was the aftermath of delicious, sex-induced weariness.
“What….where…Noah?”
“You’re okay.”
He’d be the judge of that. Naked. Bruised. Sore. Sticky. Not quite ready for round two, but willing to consider it. Yeah, he was okay, especially since Noah was still in bed with him, although he’d put the glasses back on and was watching the local news, which was reporting a rather unfortunate accident involving a black Chevrolet Camaro.
“Can I get some answers now?”
Noah looked at him, and this time Jack was able to keep his mind on business with only a brief thought of how much he’d like to put a few marks on Noah’s smooth torso, especially in the vicinity of his left nipple. Concentrate.
“I owe you that much.”
“No,” he couldn’t keep the grin off his face, ”I definitely owe you, but I need to know what the hell’s going on. Who was in the car?”
“I don’t know.”
Jack wasn’t having it and he let Noah know the jig was up by pulling him down for a kiss, glasses and all, not letting him go until Jack was sure he left some bruising of his own.
“There are people I’m trying to protect. Claire and others like her. They have powers. Flying. Telepathy. Things you wouldn’t believe. Well, you might. And there are people who want to hurt them. They’ll stop at nothing.”
Jack thought that sounded melodramatic, but he was the head of Torchwood, so he couldn’t cast judgment on the danger Noah’s people might be facing.
“Are you sure they’re not aliens?”
“Aliens? You think my daughter is an alien?”
These special people sounded like something that could have come through the rift, but this wasn’t something Noah wanted to hear. He’d have Tosh check it out when he got back. The flying must have attracted some attention.
“No. Of course not, and I meant what I said. If she ever needs anything. I’m there.”
“I appreciate that.”
“For you too.”
Noah didn’t seem able to answer, so Jack picked up where he’d left off, wondering how much control he’d be allowed this time. Not much. Noah pushed him away, almost thoughtfully.
“I know things. You know things.”
“You definitely know things,” Jack said, almost breathlessly, until he realised those weren’t the kind of things Noah was talking about.
“What if somebody doesn’t want us sharing information?”
“Then that sounds like the best reason to do it.” Jack had never taken well to having facts withheld.
“And maybe I can show you some of the other things I know,” Noah said with a raise of his eyebrows.
“There’s more?” Jack replied, feigning a bit of the innocence he’d never really had.
“I’ll bet you can show me some things too.”
“If you’ll let me…”
“I’ll let you,” said Noah in his soft, serious voice.
“Where do you want to start? Sex, information or both?”
Noah took off his glasses and lay back on the bed, spreading his arms and legs wide for Jack’s appreciation.
“Have you ever heard of The Company?