Posted: June 28, 2015
A/N: Here is a different kind of story from me. Eight chapters. Mostly from Jack's perspective, following the intro. Enjoy.
Ryan yawned and shoved his hands into the pockets of his tight jeans when he recognized his friend Ken walking up the path towards him. "Slow night?" he called.
Ken settled against the lamppost next to him. "Yeah. Got a fag?"
Ryan smiled. Trust Ken to be bumming cigs on a quiet night. Ken was older than Ryan, significantly more experienced, and he'd taken Ryan under his wing shortly after Marcus introduced them when Ryan started. They'd even fucked a few times, practicing for their clients. No, he wouldn't deny Ken cigarettes when he had them. That one lesson in blow jobs alone saved his skin a few times, and he never forgot. He handed one over and held up his lighter. "Slow for me, too. Marcus won't be happy."
"Fuck Marcus!" Ken exclaimed, blowing smoke out of the side of his mouth. "If he thinks blokes will be out looking for tail three days after that terrorist bombing in London, he's out of his mind. It's like 9/11 all over again. Took months for things in New York to get back to normal. You weren't around here yet, but I don't think I made quota for an entire month after that. Everyone just stopped going out."
"Huh, I guess you're right."
"Don't know about you, but I haven't seen some of the regulars out tonight. Tommy's crew is either completely gone to ground, or he moved them somewhere else. Misty's girls are missing, too."
"Come to think of it, I haven't seen Billy tonight," Ryan mused, lighting his own cigarette. "I think he said once his sister was in London. Would Marcus let him go?"
"He'd have gone anyway."
Ryan made a noncommittal noise.
"Not much to do but wait," Ken muttered, snatching a second cigarette. "God, I'm getting too old for this life."
"How old are you, anyway?"
"Eighteen." Ryan glanced over at him. "Old man," he joked. Ken cuffed him on the back of the head affectionately.
They smoked in companionable silence for a few minutes until they saw a young man in a suit wander into the area. He walked with hunched shoulders and hesitation in his step.
"First-timer?" Ken asked, grinding out his cigarette under his heel. He sounded excited. The new ones were often the most fun, he always maintained. "He can't be much older than you, you think? Wearing that suit to look older. Coming out, or curious?"
Ryan shrugged. "Probably just curious. Who do you think he'll choose?" Ryan wondered, discarding his butt and straightening his hair. Ryan was popular with the younger men, since he was closer to their age. Ken got some of them, but more often than not catered to men who were a little more 'mature,' as Marcus called them.
The man in the distance looked up, noticing them. He seemed to transform before their eyes, becoming confident and relaxed. He strode over to them with purpose, stopped in front of them and appraised them quickly.
"How much for the whole night?" he asked in a Welsh-accented voice. A local, Ken mused.
"Depends what you want, darling," Ryan replied, leaning forward to run a hand over the man's chest.
"And which one of us," Ken added, not wanting to be outbid for the only action of the night. He stroked the man's shoulders, making a mental note to tell Ryan later that you don't start with the chest for new clients. It could freak them out. "I'm better," he purred.
"But I'm bigger," Ryan countered.
"Both of you," the man said. "I need to be able to give a decent blow job by the morning."
The two prostitutes looked at each other, startled.
"Are you sure?" Ryan asked finally, never having been in this situation before. He looked nervously at Ken for guidance. "That's not what we usually hear."
"How much?" the man asked again.
"Six hundred for both of us," Ken said quickly. "Or it's 20 quid a blow job and 50 for anal." Ryan nodded his agreement. They both worked for Marcus, and though the prices Ken quoted were slightly high, if the man agreed they'd be on their way to making their quota for the week despite the slow start. Even better if the man tipped. From the look of his suit, Ken figured he could afford it.
"Ok, I'll give you half now, half in the morning," the man offered, counting out 300 pounds without question. "I have a hotel room."
"I'm Ken and this is Ryan. What should we call you, sugar?" Ken asked, accepting his half from Ryan.
"Jones. Ianto Jones."
"Not John Smith?"
"Do I sound English to you?" Jones growled.
Ryan laughed, pocketing his money and grabbing Ianto's arm in a friendly gesture mimicking a guy out drinking with his mates. "Not for a second! Come on, the night's young and you've got some lessons. Ken's good at giving lessons, aren't you, darling?" He winked at Ken over Jones' shoulder.
Jones's mouth twitched slightly, neither a smile nor a grimace, but somewhere in between that his girlfriend, had she been there, would have recognized instantly as resignation to an ill-fated course of action being taken out of necessity.
"Why do you need to learn so quickly?" Ken asked as he toed off his trainers. Ryan, as Ken predicted, claimed the first shower. The boy was a bit of a queen. Jones didn't seem to mind and shrugged out of his suit jacket before hanging it in the closet.
"My new boss has a certain reputation," he answered. "The way I see it, if I start blowing him the first day, I won't have to let him fuck me."
"Bloody hell, you're not going into the business, are you?" Ken demanded.
"Hardly," Jones scoffed. "I'm a researcher."
"The bastard was too busy ogling me to look at my cv," Jones reluctantly admitted. "So I flirted to get the job."
"That doesn't mean anything!"
"Ever heard of Torchwood?"
"You're working for Captain Jack," Ken gasped. "Shit. You do need to learn this, then."
"You know of him?"
"He went through six of us one night when I was new to the work."
"Six? In one night?"
"A shag for everyone who died that day. Three men, three women. He paid my pimp twice the standard fee and gave each of us 100 quid on top of that. I didn't think he fucked his employees, though. He's more of a flirt for it or buy it kind of guy."
"New Year's, 2000," Jones murmured. "His entire team was massacred. I started in 2004, in London, but it was still talked about, even then."
"Let's get started, yeah?" Jones asked, quickly changing the conversation. "I have to be back there at six."
"All right, take off your pants," Ken suggested. "We'll go over anatomy first, and I'll tell you what I remember about Captain Jack."
"I don't need an anatomy lesson," Jones muttered, though he moved to undo his trousers.
"Yes, you do. I'll be showing you what to do with each part, then you'll try it on me. Then on Ryan. We'll go from there." Ken reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a handful of condoms. "Now, Captain Jack hates these for oral, though he's good about using them for anal and vaginal, so you probably won't use them with him, but we'll start with using them so you don't get too overwhelmed by the flavor. It's strong, if you've never tasted it before."
"Huh, didn't think of that," Jones commented. Ken quickly got out of his own clothes and knelt on the bed next to Jones, his legs spread wide to show his penis. Jones copied his position.
"Tell me what you know, looking at mine," Ken said, motioning. "You'll have to get used to handling his cock, too, so go ahead and touch me."
Jones nodded, took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and reached over. "This is the glans…"
tbc in Chapter One: First Arrangement