Torchwood/Moulin Rouge - fic - A Man Who Lives, and Gives Expensive Jewels, Jack, team, R
Series - Then I Would Have My Own Bordellos
Title - A Man Who Lives, and Gives Expensive Jewels
Author - laurab1
Characters/pairings - Jack, Ianto, Gwen/Rhys, Tosh
Rating - R aka 15, AU
Length - 950 words
Spoilers - 2.12 Fragments
Summary - Some kind of belated initiation ceremony.
Disclaimer - alas, none of these people are mine
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
Would have been for reel_torchwood, if the prompt had still been available :/
A Man Who Lives, and Gives Expensive Jewels
by Laura
While Jack laces up the corset, squeezing her body ever tighter, emphasising her curves ever more, Gwen looks down at her beautiful boobs, (this was so much better than a Wonderbra, this was) and ponders what she’s about to do, how they’d reached this point…
***
“Ianto! Hello, sweetheart,” Gwen greeted, stepping inside Tempus Fugit.
“Gwen,” he replied.
His expression, as he closed the front door behind her, was distinctly suspicious. “That’s a smirk, that is, Ianto Jones.”
“Jack’s given me strict instructions to take your cap and high-visibility jacket from you right here, and return them to you at precisely the same location.”
“What the bloody hell is he up to this time, Ianto?”
“I have no idea, Gwen,” he told her, but his face said that he knew exactly what Jack had up his sleeve.
“Here you go, then,” Gwen said, removing the items and handing them to him.
***
Later, once she’d done her regular duty as police liaison, Gwen went to Jack’s office to talk to him.
“Thank you, Gwen,” he said, when she’d delivered her report. There was then a knock at the door.
“Come in!” Jack called.
The handle turned, and Tosh walked in, a tape measure slung around her neck.
Now Jack smirked, as he rose from his chair, and headed for the door. “Gonna leave you in Tosh’s capable hands, Gwen. Get your stuff from Ianto before you go.”
He left, and Tosh immediately said, “Tell me your bra size, Gwen. Then strip to the waist, please. And no questions, either.”
***
Six weeks later, Jack gave her a package.
“We’re nearly at your first anniversary. Four weeks from today, you will have been coming here for a year, Gwen.”
“We’re celebrating that, are we?”
“Yeah. Now hurry the hell up and unwrap the present, please!”
She gave him an indulgent smile, reached into the huge red gift bag, and pulled out something wrapped in blue tissue paper. Unwinding the tissue revealed, of all things, a corset.
A silver, glittery corset.
A silver, glittery, worn by a courtesan corset.
Tosh had measured Gwen for a corset, but neither she nor Jack had bothered telling her what they were doing. “Police liaison, Jack Harkness,” she reminded him. Forcefully.
“I know, honey,” he replied, with a big sigh. “This is just a bit of fun.”
The corset was perfect, of course. (And she didn’t have TB, thank God.) “Alright,” she said, with her own sigh, “tell me what you’re up to, Jack Harkness.”
“Five weeks from now, you’re gonna be wearing that beautiful piece of clothing in the next Tempus Fugit revue, Gwen Cooper.”
She tried to speak, but nothing came out.
“Why don’t you wear the corset for the next four checks so you can get used to it?”
Gwen had another go at speaking, but only managed a sigh. “Oh, go on, then,” she eventually allowed. “I can’t sing, though, Jack.”
“Can you dance?”
“Of course I can.”
“Then I’ll sing, and you and Tosh can dance. It’ll give you a helluva chance to show off that lovely engagement ring of yours. Now, get the rest of that uniform off, officer.”
***
… The fabric of Jack’s dinner jacket brushes against her bare shoulder, as he finishes lacing up Gwen’s corset and sings softly, right in her ear:
The French are glad to die for love...
They excite in fighting duels
But I prefer a man who lives
And gives expensive jewels
“Jack,” someone says, and Gwen realises Tosh had managed to sneak her way into the office.
“Come on,” he says, snatching up a top hat from his desk, and pushing it onto Gwen’s head. “Showtime, ladies.”
“Talk to me, Jack Harkness, tell me all about,” Tosh says, with a smile, sporting her own top hat.
She’s been made part of an established act, Gwen realises, from Tosh’s fond tone, and the kisses Jack gives both of them. Bloody bizarre way to celebrate her first anniversary, but she’s learned to expect nothing less from Jack Harkness and his beautiful people.
***
Their performance receives loud applause, and Gwen watches the rest of the show in her heels, stockings, hat and corset.
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?
As usual, it’s not just Lady Marmalade asking the question, either.
***
“Just breathe deeply for a minute, Gwen,” Jack says, later, once he’s removed the corset from her, pulling it up over her arms. She closes her eyes as she breathes, listening to the rustle of paper.
“Gwen,” Jack then calls, and she opens her eyes again. The corset’s back in its tissue, and the bag, she sees. The hat’s peeking out of the top. “Take the corset and hat home with you, today. Give your fiancé his own show.”
That’d be an interesting conversation, before the ‘show’. “How the bloody hell am I gonna explain them, Jack?”
He kind of shrugs. “That’s up to you, honey. But, as you know, Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir? is always a good line to have available. He won’t be able to resist you, dressed up like that. I sure as hell found it difficult to not drag you off to bed, so did a quite a few of my people.”
Gwen has no idea how to reply to that.
Jack continues, “You’re hot, Gwen Cooper, you’re a damned fine police officer, and we love you. Get dressed, take your presents home, and make love with your fiancé. That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir,” Gwen replies.
Giving Jack a vague salute, she watches him leave his office. Today had been some kind of test, some kind of belated initiation ceremony, she decides, putting her uniform back on.
Definitely felt like she’d passed.
-end-
Title - A Man Who Lives, and Gives Expensive Jewels
Author - laurab1
Characters/pairings - Jack, Ianto, Gwen/Rhys, Tosh
Rating - R aka 15, AU
Length - 950 words
Spoilers - 2.12 Fragments
Summary - Some kind of belated initiation ceremony.
Disclaimer - alas, none of these people are mine
Feedback is loved and appreciated :) Enjoy!
Would have been for reel_torchwood, if the prompt had still been available :/
A Man Who Lives, and Gives Expensive Jewels
by Laura
While Jack laces up the corset, squeezing her body ever tighter, emphasising her curves ever more, Gwen looks down at her beautiful boobs, (this was so much better than a Wonderbra, this was) and ponders what she’s about to do, how they’d reached this point…
***
“Ianto! Hello, sweetheart,” Gwen greeted, stepping inside Tempus Fugit.
“Gwen,” he replied.
His expression, as he closed the front door behind her, was distinctly suspicious. “That’s a smirk, that is, Ianto Jones.”
“Jack’s given me strict instructions to take your cap and high-visibility jacket from you right here, and return them to you at precisely the same location.”
“What the bloody hell is he up to this time, Ianto?”
“I have no idea, Gwen,” he told her, but his face said that he knew exactly what Jack had up his sleeve.
“Here you go, then,” Gwen said, removing the items and handing them to him.
***
Later, once she’d done her regular duty as police liaison, Gwen went to Jack’s office to talk to him.
“Thank you, Gwen,” he said, when she’d delivered her report. There was then a knock at the door.
“Come in!” Jack called.
The handle turned, and Tosh walked in, a tape measure slung around her neck.
Now Jack smirked, as he rose from his chair, and headed for the door. “Gonna leave you in Tosh’s capable hands, Gwen. Get your stuff from Ianto before you go.”
He left, and Tosh immediately said, “Tell me your bra size, Gwen. Then strip to the waist, please. And no questions, either.”
***
Six weeks later, Jack gave her a package.
“We’re nearly at your first anniversary. Four weeks from today, you will have been coming here for a year, Gwen.”
“We’re celebrating that, are we?”
“Yeah. Now hurry the hell up and unwrap the present, please!”
She gave him an indulgent smile, reached into the huge red gift bag, and pulled out something wrapped in blue tissue paper. Unwinding the tissue revealed, of all things, a corset.
A silver, glittery corset.
A silver, glittery, worn by a courtesan corset.
Tosh had measured Gwen for a corset, but neither she nor Jack had bothered telling her what they were doing. “Police liaison, Jack Harkness,” she reminded him. Forcefully.
“I know, honey,” he replied, with a big sigh. “This is just a bit of fun.”
The corset was perfect, of course. (And she didn’t have TB, thank God.) “Alright,” she said, with her own sigh, “tell me what you’re up to, Jack Harkness.”
“Five weeks from now, you’re gonna be wearing that beautiful piece of clothing in the next Tempus Fugit revue, Gwen Cooper.”
She tried to speak, but nothing came out.
“Why don’t you wear the corset for the next four checks so you can get used to it?”
Gwen had another go at speaking, but only managed a sigh. “Oh, go on, then,” she eventually allowed. “I can’t sing, though, Jack.”
“Can you dance?”
“Of course I can.”
“Then I’ll sing, and you and Tosh can dance. It’ll give you a helluva chance to show off that lovely engagement ring of yours. Now, get the rest of that uniform off, officer.”
***
… The fabric of Jack’s dinner jacket brushes against her bare shoulder, as he finishes lacing up Gwen’s corset and sings softly, right in her ear:
The French are glad to die for love...
They excite in fighting duels
But I prefer a man who lives
And gives expensive jewels
“Jack,” someone says, and Gwen realises Tosh had managed to sneak her way into the office.
“Come on,” he says, snatching up a top hat from his desk, and pushing it onto Gwen’s head. “Showtime, ladies.”
“Talk to me, Jack Harkness, tell me all about,” Tosh says, with a smile, sporting her own top hat.
She’s been made part of an established act, Gwen realises, from Tosh’s fond tone, and the kisses Jack gives both of them. Bloody bizarre way to celebrate her first anniversary, but she’s learned to expect nothing less from Jack Harkness and his beautiful people.
***
Their performance receives loud applause, and Gwen watches the rest of the show in her heels, stockings, hat and corset.
Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?
As usual, it’s not just Lady Marmalade asking the question, either.
***
“Just breathe deeply for a minute, Gwen,” Jack says, later, once he’s removed the corset from her, pulling it up over her arms. She closes her eyes as she breathes, listening to the rustle of paper.
“Gwen,” Jack then calls, and she opens her eyes again. The corset’s back in its tissue, and the bag, she sees. The hat’s peeking out of the top. “Take the corset and hat home with you, today. Give your fiancé his own show.”
That’d be an interesting conversation, before the ‘show’. “How the bloody hell am I gonna explain them, Jack?”
He kind of shrugs. “That’s up to you, honey. But, as you know, Voulez-vous coucher avec moi, ce soir? is always a good line to have available. He won’t be able to resist you, dressed up like that. I sure as hell found it difficult to not drag you off to bed, so did a quite a few of my people.”
Gwen has no idea how to reply to that.
Jack continues, “You’re hot, Gwen Cooper, you’re a damned fine police officer, and we love you. Get dressed, take your presents home, and make love with your fiancé. That’s an order.”
“Yes, sir,” Gwen replies.
Giving Jack a vague salute, she watches him leave his office. Today had been some kind of test, some kind of belated initiation ceremony, she decides, putting her uniform back on.
Definitely felt like she’d passed.
-end-