Work Text:
Velvet Byrd
by Peja
Ianto Jones had more or less been on his own since his fifteenth birthday. Not so much living rough. He had a room and a roof with his parents, and his mother always welcomed him there. Rhianna too. It was his da, though, that made spending any time there dangerous. Life-threatening even, if you counted the broken bones and gaping wounds. He avoided home more for the fact that his da had a passion for sharing his bed after the ladies of the house had drifted off.
Pragmatic even as a young boy, Ianto reasoned that if he was fated to share his bed with someone, he may as well make a profit from it if he couldn't enjoy it.
With an eye for the cash, Ianto hit the streets, but only worked the circuits that offered the big bucks. There was no sleaze in the way this rent-boy dressed. No way, that. He bought expensive, quality clothes, staging himself, like a professional window dresser, for the high rollers. He never went out on the prowl unless he was dressed to the nines, then only hitting the clubs frequented by the wheelers and dealers, the men of power, of wealth.
Men and women both found the young man appealing. His dry wit and practiced smile carried him higher and higher. His expertise in bed did the rest. Guess he had his dear old peevert of a da for that.
It came as no surprise for people in the know when he was approached for a position for the elite Velvet Byrd Escort Service. He accepted graciously, with stipulation he had final word on all clients.
Far as he was concerned, one Ianto Jones had finally made the big time and he was going to ride it as far as the crest would take him.
^^^
Jack Harkness had known love. More than once. And the agony of grief.
He vowed never to go down that path again.
Jack also knew the insatiable hunger of lust. Over the course of his long life, he'd gorged himself on one-night stands and late night pick-ups till he couldn't face the general chat up one more time without feeling sick to his stomach. For that reason, he'd drenched himself in the brittle ugliness of the red-light district on nights without end and from both sides if the truth be known.
And he was tired. So tired of the games played by the sexually adventurous. Tired of the gnawing hunger in the center of his gut, screaming out for companionship.
Tired of being alone.
Resigned to his very human need for someone to anchor him in his solitary existence, he doggedly accepted an invitation to sample the dubious delights of a Velvet Bryd Mix-up.
^^^^^
Ianto noticed the man in the heavy woolen WWII RAF style greatcoat the minute he came into view. It would have been hard not too. The guy had an air of quality that drew every eye in the room.
"That's Captain Jack Harkness," John Frobisher confided, running his soft hand down the red silk vest Ianto wore over his crisp white dress shirt. "Looks like tonight might be a bit more interesting than I thought. What with both you and him here."
Ianto offered up a sly smile. "Doesn't look like much to me," he feigned disinterest. Not hard for a man bored nearly to tears by the night's play-acting. If Frobisher laid one more hand on him, he might draw back a bloodied stump.
But his eyes followed the new-comer's progress through the room over his flute of ginger beer.
^^^^
Jack knew how to make an entrance and played it up like a true showman. His pregnant pause in the ballroom's arched doorway lasted only long enough to attract everyone's attention. His eyes swept over the revealers, identifying client and merchandise easily.
All accept the tall sandy-haired young buck standing at Frobisher's side. From his dress, the man could easily be a high roller. But the government middleman wouldn't handle a man of quality as freely as he did the other.
On offer, then.
Jack smiled crookedly, his choice for the evening's games sighted.
Jack glided through the room, chatting up one cluster of party-goers after another, but his gaze remained firmly planted on his goal.
It pleased him that the young man appeared just as interested in him as Jack was in him. It pleased him even more when the man left Frobisher's side and moved on to another chatting group.
It did not please him that each time he moved closer to the young man, the fellow would move on as well, keeping a space between them even as his laughing eyes tempted him to approach.
Jack had all but given up the hunt, retreating to the bar for a iced glass of water when a soft voice, like warm, honeyed whiskey, spoke in his ear, "You have been stalking me."
He smiled, then quickly suppressed it as he turned to find the breath-taking prostitute grinning at him. "Have I now?"
"You deny it?"
"Didn't go so far as to say that." Jack moved to brush a stray hair from the beauty's eyes, but the almost invisible flinch stilled his hand. "You prefer not to be touched, I see." He said, letting his hand drop back to his side.
The man slanted him a steady stare. "And you are quite observant."
"Unusual occupation for a man who doesn't like being touched." Jack gave him a hard look over. "Escort, I mean."
"Can be, I suppose." The rent-boy shrugged. "Hasn't got in the way of getting business taken care of though. Want to party?"
Jack's glance traveled over the young man's long form taking a slow pleasure from it, then shook his head. "Not looking for a one-nighter in a back room flop. Sorry."
The pro shrugged, "Too bad. Hope you find what your shopping for." He made to move on.
Jack did touch him then, reaching out to capture his arm loosely.
The man's gaze cut back in his direction, a slight arch to his dark brow.
"Would you consider something a bit more...permanent?"
This time it was the rent-boy's turn to cast an inventory of the charming RAF coated stranger. "I don't..." he let the negative word drawl out longer than necessary before adding, "Come cheap."
Jack flashed a wicked grin. "But do you cum long?"
An honest laugh burst from the man. "Long as you'd like. And on command."
"On command? Seriously? Oh, now I really must have you. Would you join me for dinner... to discuss the terms and conditions."
"If it means getting out of here..." The man tilted his head and linked his arm through Jack's. "You may call me Ianto. Ianto Jones."
Jack patted Ianto's arm, careful to avoid skin contact. "Captain Jack Harkness, Mr. Jones. Very pleased to make your acquaintance."
^^^^
Ianto lifted the topped off cup of coffee to his lips, hesitating before he took a sip to study the man opposite him. "I expected you would take me to at least a fast-food place."
"You don't like my home?" Jack asked, pouting a little. "I thought you should at least see where we will be living when you agree to move in."
"Reminds me of a batcave." Ianto confided, not bothering to cover his shudder do discomfort. "You actually live here? In the sewers?"
"The Hub isn't so much in the sewers as ....underground."
"Looks like a duck and quacks like one."
"You don't like it, then?"
Ianto's gaze swept the hub's board room. "Needs a good cleaning. A spot of paint..." He pulled a face and gave a sideways nod. "I could deal with it, I guess."
Jack grinned brightly. "Glad to hear it. Now, here's what I was thinking...."
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That's it, guys. I can make this into a series, but only if I get the idea there is some interest.