Fic: The Bad Neighbor 2/6
Dec. 18th, 2011 03:40 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
firesnapPart One
Ianto Jones was not in the best of moods. He was up to his eyeballs in work, mainly. On top of the general duties of protecting Cardiff from miscellaneous fuckery, his Hub was in disarray. There weren't enough people to justify him being mainly the administrator and there weren't enough hours in the day to even attempt at managing them both. Even on slow days, like today, he worked ten hours playing catch up for days he couldn't be there. Jack was gone, in London for the day meeting with UNIT officials about setting up an arrangement where they would provide backup for the Rift when Torchwood's slim staff needed it, so it had been just him and Gwen. That would've been fine, but it was obvious Gwen was just as exhausted as Ianto. He may have been trying to play field agent and office manager, but Gwen was trying to be multiple field agents at once on top of their only investigator.
She'd been irritable, taking a cup of coffee and mumbling about Rhys and delusions of grandeur before plugging in a pair of earphones and working on the stack of police reports and mission write-ups that had been threatening to swallow her desk. Ianto had shrugged and gone about his day. It wasn't like Gwen to keep her domestics to herself, but if that was what she wanted Ianto wasn't about to judge her for it. Mid-day hit and Ianto snuck out of the Hub to hit up the kebab stand near the Plass that Gwen particularly fancied. While waiting in line, his mobile rang. The display flashed Rhys Williams and Ianto's mouth twitched into a frown. Rhys and
Ianto were good mates, and enjoyed a fair bit of a drinking and carousing together, but they didn't call each other.
"''ello?"
"Ianto, mate, doing well?" Rhy's voice sounded tight and uncomfortable over the airwaves. Ianto blinked.
"Fine. Yeah. Getting lunch."
"How's Gwennie? Any aliens today?"
"Er. No. She's… good." Ianto trailed off and let the silence fill the line. He didn't know the protocol for telling the husband that the wife was in a mood. Was that a betrayal of some sort of confidence? It couldn't be, considering Gwen hadn't actually confided anything in him.
"Right. Well. I heard you're on your own tonight, so I've got a stew in the slow cooker. Thought I'd remind you of your invitation before you and Gwen both forgot."
"Ah. Thanks."
"There will be wine."
"Oh, I hope so."
"Yeah. So. That was it really."
"Okay."
"Listen. Did Gwen… mention anything? About our neighbor?"
"No."
"Right. Right then. I'll see you two around seven?"
"Sounds good."
As the two men bid farewell and disconnected the call, Ianto couldn't help but shake the confused feeling. It'd become a bit of tradition, starting before Tosh and Owen passed, that Ianto would go to theirs for dinner when Jack was gone, so he hadn't really needed a reminder. That was their time to be Welsh and drink a bit without Jack's shadow hanging over everything. And Rhys was checking up on Gwen, understandably, but what was that bit about the neighbor? Did he think Gwen was having an affair? That couldn't be it. The person in front of him in line stepped away with their piping hot food and Ianto pushed the thoughts of domestics and awkward stew dinners out of his head.
Ianto stayed busy for the rest of the day, excruciatingly so, but it was an improvement over the morning. Gwen was still in a mood and Ianto's head pounded silently at dealing with her. Best mate or not, she could put anyone on edge. By the end of the day, Ianto was positive that while Torchwood would guarantee he'd never actually live to see an old age, it did make sure he felt too old some of the time.
Ianto came out of the archives, dusty, irritable and ready for food and drink, to see the Hub was already in standby. He huffed. Gwen could've at least waited on him. Ianto decided then and there to just leave everything. If the bloody dinosaur wanted out, she could go out when Jack got back in a few hours. He stormed over to his workstation to grab his belongings and yanked a post-it note off his monitor.
Ianto – Got a headache. Went to get some rest before you come over. Sorry about being a moody git. Drinking Scrabble later to make up for it. – Gwen.
Well, that made things a bit better. Ianto finished collecting his things, including the bottle of wine he intended to share with his hosts, and, giving the gloomy half-illuminated Hub one final look, headed out to pretend to be normal for a while.
Gwen had lived in the same flat for about five or six years. It was a good neighborhood, filled with little shops and a deli that made fabulous sandwiches. Ianto didn't expect them to live there much longer though, too much talk of setting down roots and building families, and half of him considered buying their flat when they did move.
As he parked the car, he looked at their building and contemplated the idea again. It was an older home, refashioned into a series of flats on each floor, and still close enough to the Hub to get there quick enough if needed. The only downside he could see in buying the place would be Gwen's look of outrage when he painted over the horrible pale pink in the bath. She picked that color personally, she'd told him, and being a good friend Ianto didn't tell her it reminded him of watered down stomach medicine.
Ianto parked his car, grabbed his wine, and with the assuring beep beep of the door locking, started up toward to Gwen's. Movement above him caught Ianto's eye and he looked up to see a youngish man, maybe a few years younger than Jack's physical appearance, glancing down at him from a balcony. His gaze raked over Ianto and he smiled wolfishly. "Evening," an accented voice yelled down.
Ianto nodded. The accent – similar to Jack's but not quite – almost threw him. He raised a hand for a quick wave and smile and then… was jerked into the foyer of the building by a flushed Rhys Williams. Ianto raised an eyebrow as Rhys shut the door firmly behind him.
"Try not to encourage the animals, mate." Rhys's explanation was less than adequate until it dawned on Ianto.
"So that's the evil neighbor then?"
"Yeah. Right now my theories range from alien to puppy smuggler."
Puppy smuggler? Ianto knew better than to respond as he followed Rhys up the stairs and into their flat. It was clean, there was already a bottle of opened wine on the table and the smell of spices and herbs from the kitchen make Ianto's stomach remind him that he had only had half a kebab earlier in the day. Ianto glanced about. "Where's Gwen?"
"Showering. She came home and slept for a few hours. Rough day?"
A frown flickered across Ianto's face. "Not really."
Ianto helped Rhys set the table and finish the last touches on dinner. By the time they had finished the table was laden with homemade lamb stew with root vegetables and warm bread. Ianto was pouring three glasses of wine when Gwen emerged, fresh faced and smiling, from the bedroom.
Ianto had shed his tie and suit jacket once he began cooking, and his dress shirt had become un-tucked somewhere along the way. Between him and Gwen's simple denims and tunic shirt, it was easy for all of them to pretend, at least for a few hours, that no one in this flat knew anything about aliens. That was the best part of their refueling nights together. These nights of drinking and eating and acting normal had become so necessary and so precious in the wake of Tosh and Owen's deaths. Now Gwen and Ianto only had the other that could truly, honestly, relate to what their work day was like. Now they weren't a pack of professionals protecting Cardiff. Instead, it was two Welsh kids and their mad time-traveling boss. For that reason, Gwen and Ianto needed time to remind themselves, and each other, that the other was human and still there – that the job hadn't completely stripped away their ability to relate to one another without aliens involved.
Gwen smiled, kissed the top of Rhys's head and gave Ianto's shoulder an affectionate squeeze as she sat down. "This looks gorgeous," she raved. "Rhys always outdoes himself for our dinners."
Ianto nodded as he helped himself to filling his plate. "You feeling alright?"
"Yeah. Sorry about earlier. I think I was just too tired. Too many late nights catching up all at once."
Ianto smirked as he sopped up some stew onto a piece of bread. "Age." He dodged Gwen's punch to the arm and laughed.
"You date someone older than our current calendar system and you're giving me hell? You're an awful boy."
"Fair enough."
It continued to be a good evening. Dinner was eaten and Rhys shooed Ianto and Gwen to the sofa while he cleaned up. They finished off the first of the wine, put in a movie and played board games while the television noises filled the space around them. Only twice did Rhys swear and look irritated as a few random thumps drifted from upstairs. After a while, the annoyed looks only make Gwen and Ianto laugh and Rhys had to attempt to hide them to avoid feeling like the night's entertainment. Halfway through the second bottle, Ianto's mobile rang. He glanced down at the number and held up a hand to excuse himself. Gwen chuckled. She had her knees tucked up under her and she stretched one graceful leg out to nudge her husband, who was sitting next to her. They both knew who it was. Ianto wasn't fooling anyone, but Gwen knew he needed to have the illusion that he was keeping things low-key.
Ianto returned a few minutes later from Gwen's bathroom, the remains of a blush staining his neck, and smiled weakly. "Hub's doing alright." That was as close to an admission as Gwen was going to get to who had been the caller. Ianto knew Gwen was doing her best to hold in one of her indulgent, sweet looks that, just occasionally, made his shoulders bunch up in a mess of too tense muscles. She'd actively been working on it, after a long night and the final confession that Gwen made him feel like a teenager going on dates for the first time. Since then, she'd been much more aware of treating Ianto like a child, or more aptly, like someone who didn't know what he was getting into and needed an older sister to guide him. Ianto had one of those, and she'd been poor at giving guidance too. Now he just wanted someone to make jokes about the horrible life decisions he seemed to enjoy making.
"You leaving soon then?"
"Uh. No."
"You can. We won't mind."
"I'm having fun. I want to stay. He— the Hub will be fine."
Gwen seemed to be prepping herself for their normal argument and Ianto wondered which point she'd start with – whether it would be about what Ianto was doing; if he realized he was half to blame for the hot and cold game that he and Jack played; or if they both really were as emotionally stunted as they acted. Just as she opened her mouth, a scream filled the air, muted only slightly from the ceiling and floorboards above.
Ianto's eyebrows raised up nearly to his hairline and Gwen stared above them. "That was… loud."
"Yeah. It was."
Rhys stood up to throw away the empty wine bottle and grumbled. "This is what I was saying. It's not respectful and it's a bit creepy. Isn't it? That was suspicious, wasn't it? People don't scream like that unless it's for a reason."
Gwen and Ianto looked at each other. He made a favorite face of hers, eyebrows slightly lifted, shoulders hunched and an exaggerated frown on his face. She chewed her lip and nodded. "I'm going to go talk to him."
"Uh, no," Rhys interrupted. "We just heard loud screaming."
"And I catch aliens for a living. I've talked to him. It could have been a movie or something more… naked."
For some reason, Ianto's face flushed. He stood, swaying slightly from the wine. "I'll go with you."
Gwen shook her head. "No, I don't want to make it look like I've called someone on him or… want to join in by showing up with some young well-dressed bloke."
"But Rhys is right, we heard –"
"Ask Rhys how often we've heard ‘screaming' like that. Then ask what we usually see in the morning."
Ianto flopped back down on the couch. "It's like living below Owen."
Gwen wanted to laugh at his joke, at the fact that they were finally able to joke about Owen again, but she was too busy giving her serious face to Rhys. "I'll be right back."
She kissed Rhys's cheek before she left, waving and giving one of her best reassuring smiles. Once Gwen had left, the flat was silent. Rhys wasn't pleased and he shot an annoyed look at Ianto. Ianto, for his part, wasn't paying attention. He was watching the news as it played silently on the television. Though Ianto had the grace not to say it, Rhys knew what the other man was thinking. Gwen could handle anything that was upstairs – far better than Rhys, or really even Ianto, could have managed. Acting like put-out alpha male wasn't going to win points with her.
"Right. That's me told," Rhys finally admitted. He was rewarded with a small smile from Ianto. Bastard had just been sitting there, silently, waiting for Rhys to figure things out on his own. "Let's have another drink."
Gwen didn't come back for almost a half hour. At that point, even Ianto was concerned and seemed ready to go upstairs himself and check on things. When she did appear, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wider than normal. It was a party, she confirmed for them. She stayed and had a drink, chatted a bit, then realized she should be heading home. Jerry wanted to have dinner next week and Rhys scoffed at that.
They stayed up for a few more hours, polishing off another bottle of wine, until Gwen decided she was ready to retire and Ianto looked half-asleep on the sofa. As Rhys threw a pillow and blanket to Ianto, he realized for the first time that evening how silent the flat above him now was.
****
Ianto awoke, in the dark and slightly confused about his location. He was sleeping on Gwen's couch. This was not a rare occurrence since the night of Grey's attack. He groped blindly for his phone to check the time and his messages. Around three in the morning and two messages from Jack. One message asked what Ianto was wearing. When sleeping Ianto hadn't replied Jack had sent another asking for him to come in early. Ianto smirked and sat up slowly. He may as well go now. It wasn't as if Jack would be sleeping. Ianto bit back a laugh and slid his phone into his pocket.
As Ianto stretched, a noise near the entryway caught his attention. He glanced toward the partially open bedroom door. There was a large mass sleeping in the bed, but that was all he could see. Quietly, carefully, Ianto stood and crept toward the front of the flat. He snuck around the corner just in time to see the back of Gwen's head as the door shut behind it. Huh. That was strange. No Torchwood alerts, Gwen would have woke him for that, and she was fully dressed. Ianto leaned against the wall as he debated whether or not to follow. She was a grown woman and perfectly capable of making her own decisions. However, sneaking off in the middle of the night didn't really mesh with her normal comings and goings. At least not anymore.
With a grumble, Ianto toed on his shoes and slipped quietly into the hall. He heard the click of the hallway door and followed the noise. It was the door leading to the upstairs flat. Ianto's stomach dropped. Grown woman or not, this didn't look good. Ianto hesitated again. This wasn't his business, was it? Except it was. They were all family now. Him, Gwen, Jack and Rhys. They were, at least in Ianto's eyes, the closest family he'd ever had. He had a sister he barely spoke to and dead parents. The idea that he could have a family now made him fiercely protective of it and, honestly, he thought Gwen felt the same way. She'd made mistakes in the past, but that was before, and Ianto was not in any position to judge someone's old affairs. Ianto stiffened his shoulders. No need to assume the worst. The neighbor could've just been making noise again and Gwen wanted to calm it down before Rhys exploded.
He slunk up the stairs, not seeing Gwen, but spotting the door to Jerry's flat cracked open slightly. "Gwen?" Ianto whispered as his hand touched the doorknob. "You up here?" If anything illicit was going on, hopefully he could give them some warning before bursting in and creating an absolutely mortifying situation. Ianto pushed the door open – not being overtly loud about it, but not trying to hide his entrance either. The flat was mostly dark, though he did really appreciate the snazzy décor. It was clean, modern and masculine. There was a door, he could see it, that lead to what was probably a bedroom. Ianto started to creep his way toward it when something caught his eye and he frowned.
Across the small hall from the supposed bedroom was a bookshelf. It looked wrong. Ianto approached it and ran his hand down the wood. It looked like one of those shitty "fake" bookshelves that he'd seen in Sky Mall magazines and catalogs that arrived at the tourist office. Sure enough, once Ianto pressed on the edge of the frame, it sprung open to reveal another door. Another locked door.
Ianto looked around the flat, seeing no one, and pulled out the small lock pick from his wallet. With a few flicks of the wrist, he lock clicked and he grinned. Torchwood allowed him to use so many normally shady skills. It was great. Probably the best part of the job and much better than the early death thing that hung over all of them. He gently pushed the door, slowly at first, in case it creaked, and slipped inside once the gap was wide enough to accommodate him.
The sight that greeted Ianto in the tiny once-upon-a-time second bedroom made him flatten his back against the wall and gasp aloud. The room was covered in thick plastic sheeting. Sheeting Ianto was fairly familiar with from his times of disposing bodies. It was waterproof, easy to dispose and transport and, in the case of this room, great for keeping random blood splatters from cleanly painted walls or hardwood floors. The only window in the room was covered with a black-out curtain and then more plastic sheeting. The only lighting Ianto had was from a sickly yellowish ceiling light. It provided just enough glow for him to make out a figure, slumped in the corner and facing the wall.
Ianto darted over, his feet rustling through the sheeting, until he could crouch next to what he could see now was a dark haired girl. His stomach feeling like lead, Ianto rolled her over and gave out a sigh of relief. It wasn't Gwen. It wasn't anyone he recognized. It – she was a young girl, around Ianto's age, and after checking her pulse, she was clearly dead. Ianto bit his lip as he stood. Jerry might not be an alien, but he was a murderer, and Gwen was missing now. He pulled out his mobile. The signal was faint, but it was perhaps better for Ianto to get out first and contact Jack and the locals.
Just as Ianto turned to begin his creep out of the flat, a force slammed him against the wall. The impact caused the breath to whoosh from his lungs and spots to dance briefly in front of his vision. Ianto shook his head as he struggled to break free of the grip holding him. Once his vision cleared enough, he could make out that his attacker was clearly Jerry, the murdering neighbor from the balcony. Jerry had a hand wrapped tightly around each of Ianto's upper arms, and when Ianto moved to break the hold, he was slammed forcibly back into the wall. Jerry pushed himself close to Ianto, shoving his knee between the younger man's legs while he was momentarily dazed. Everything about the situation was confusing Ianto – how did he not hear the other man enter? Why couldn't he push him off? Jerry was about Ianto's build, if a little older. Ianto had taken down Weevils and worse of late and now found he was unable to break the hold of one man. His mouth dry, Ianto squirmed again and the grip on his arms tightened painfully.
Jerry grinned. Even in the dim lighting his teeth seemed unnaturally white. "I really didn't realize Wales had a delivery service for pretties. I thought I'd broke the bank when that raven haired beauty wandered up to see me, and now I get another one. I'm going to have to thank whoever keeps sending me gifts."
With a bit of effort, Ianto kept his face calm and looked his assailant dead in the eye. "Where's Gwen?"
"Oh, she's still around… still alive," Jerry added quickly when he saw Ianto's eyes go wide and dart toward the girl on the floor. "That one was an accident."
"An accident? You murdered her accidentally in your murder room? Really?"
"Yeah, she made too many sarcastic quips and just fell down dead." Ianto rolled his eyes and muffled a gasp when Jerry's fingers dug into his arm. "You know, I saw you," Jerry continued. "From the balcony. I thought to myself, there's a young man that's wound a little too tight. Am I right?"
Silence filled the room. "I think I am right," Jerry grinned again. "I thought to myself, ‘Jerry, I bet underneath all those layers is someone who could use a little attention. Someone who'd be fun if he learned to let go of everything.' Meeting you, I think I'm right."
When Ianto still didn't respond, the dark haired man leaned forward, pressing his weight into Ianto, and ran his lips over Ianto's jawline. He stopped when his lips were near Ianto's ear so he could whisper. "You want to see Gwen? Make sure she's okay?"
Ianto nodded. The breath on his ear was cold and he involuntarily shivered as he nodded again.
"Good. I wanted you to stay and play with us anyway."
Ianto felt a stab of fear, then pain, and before he could register what was going on, gray swam his vision and he collapsed.
****
As the young man slid gracelessly to the floor, Jerry Dandrige raised an eyebrow. He'd been serious in what he said – he'd love to know who kept sending him special deliveries. Not only was it off-putting to have someone, or a group of someones, seemingly already suspicious of him, whoever it was had great taste. The doe eyed woman and the well-dressed boy were like some sort of ridiculous bribe, and while Jerry was a huge fan of flattery and gifts, he didn't have a lot of room for house pets.
Jerry knelt, and with a grunt of effort tossed the limp form on the floor into a fireman's carry. The body in the corner didn't even merit attention. It belonged to whiney slip of a thing who hadn't left in the morning like he'd asked. He kicked open the door to his bedroom and dumped his cargo onto the large bed next to the unconscious Gwen Cooper. Jerry took a moment to fish for a cigarette and light as he stared at his two acquisitions. He'd found the gun on Cooper, the neighbor, on her first visit, which sent up enough red flags to make him edgy about finishing her off. He'd lifted it though – just in case she felt the need to come back, and when she did come it made him congratulate himself on his own foresight.
Cigarette dangling from his mouth, Jerry fished around the young man's trouser pockets until he found a wallet. Ianto Jones. 25. Library card. Dry Cleaner Reward Card – mostly filled. Credit Cards. A credit card in the name of one Jack Harkness. That was interesting. Business cards that just had Jones's name listed and a phone number. Business cards that had Captain Jack Harkness listed and a phone number. Pictures of an older woman and some kids. Picture of Jones and a very attractive black girl. Jones and Cooper. Jones and a lovely Japanese girl. Jerry was starting to think Ianto Jones got around a bit. Finally, buried behind all the photos, was a translucent ID badge with Jones's name, a number, a bar code and the word Torchwood emblazoned on the side. Jerry frowned and picked up the gun he'd collected from Cooper from off his dresser. Sure enough, in small letters down the side of the gun, Torchwood. Oh. Oh. These two were going to require some deeper investigation.
Jerry tossed the wallet and its contents on the dresser next to the gun. He then leapt, bouncing on his landing, on the bed between the two prone bodies. Cooper was gorgeous, and the subject of his attention first. She fit his type completely from her looks to her casual confidence and subtle strut. Gently, Jerry rolled her over onto her back. Her dark fringe fell away to reveal those large eyes, hidden now by unconsciousness, and her pixie shaped face and just fuckable mouth. He bent down, one hand stroking her hair, and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Gorgeous. Another deep kiss against pliant flesh and Jerry turned, one hand still resting on the flat plane of Gwen's stomach, to examine his other new companion.
Jones had dark, nearly feminine, eyelashes that were a splash of black across his pale face and his lips were a ludicrous shade of soft pink. Jerry ran the fingertips of his free hand over the sleeping man's mouth just to make sure the color was natural. Bit younger than he liked in males. Pretty though.
Jerry stretched and stared at his ceiling. It'd been a while since he'd had long-term company. Maybe, just maybe, two candidates had stumbled upon him. If they were useful. Jerry sat up and tapped his finger against his mouth. He needed them awake, and compliant, while he investigated their potential. After a moment of thinking, he bit the finger near his mouth until dark purple-hued blood formed a dot at the tip. He held it upside down, pointing at Gwen's mouth, and then the drop wobbled and fell against her lips. Gwen's eyes flickered beneath the lids and her mouth opened slightly, allowing the droplet to slide inside. Perfect. Jerry propped himself up on an elbow and ran the same bloodied finger down Gwen's cheek, leaving a smeared trail as he went. Questions first, then hopefully a little play.
Two hours passed, and time found Jerry leaning against the doorframe to his bedroom wanting to thank whatever god was supposed to be looking out for his kind. Not that he always felt that way, but now, oh now he had reason to do it. A hundred years ago when an anomaly in space or time had dropped him on this backwater planet, Jerry, as he called himself now, had cursed the gods and fate. The place ended up being a treasure trove. The skills and talents of his people ended up being so far above the little peons here that it was like a never ending buffet of pleasure and feeding.
There had been adjustments both physically and mentally. His body naturally changed to blend him into his surroundings – giving him looks that only another true predator could appreciate. He was like a deadly flower to these insects: exotic, beautiful and irresistible. For whatever reason, the limited telepathy of his people didn't work well here. He could get flashes of things, impressions and general knowledge about a person. He could tell, with enough time and concentration, where a person worked or what they ate for breakfast, but not what dark thoughts they pondered when no one was around. It was frustrating, definitely, but still useful.
The best part of Jerry's new environment he discovered fairly quickly. Humans of this time hadn't developed any defenses against him. Back from his own time and place, his kind were hunted by humans and other life forms for being too good at surviving. They were feared, but not invincible. Here, it was as close as Jerry could manage to feeling godlike. The natural chemicals and toxins his people produced to capture prey turned these people into thralls unable to break away from Jerry's demands and willing victims to whatever he wanted – money, shelter, nourishment or sex.
Oh, the sex. The drugs. The hedonism of these people. It made the chemicals in Jerry churn at just the thought and bless his current body. The pheromones and endorphins humans produced were almost as addictive as the life force they provided for nourishment.
The first couple years were rough. Jerry almost died a few times as he learned the ins and outs of this planet and the best way to stay off the radar but still get his. He'd learned to move around, take a local or two as a guide, enjoy himself and head toward the next destination before any were the wiser. If he left a few corpses in his wake, who was harmed by it? Humans bred quickly enough at any rate. It was worth it though, and, if he was honest, Jerry had no qualms about spending the rest of his very long lifespan in his new personal playground.
Jerry took a drink from of vodka and glanced at the bed while stifling a laugh.
Now things had gotten better. Completely by accident. So he'd been a little careless in his new place. The flat he'd found was lavish enough for his needs and wants and modest enough to not make him interesting. And he'd intrigued Torchwood, who sent a woman and a boy to deal with him. Obviously underestimating him. However, the woman who'd shown up at his door with suspicious eyes and a hidden weapon was gorgeous. Sexy and completely oblivious to how her confidence and carriage made her irresistible. It'd been little effort to manipulate and worm his way into her mind – convince her to come back later to he could see what was under her t-shirts. Keep her docile while he took the time to really discover what a treasure he'd found. A super spy or alien hunter had just wandered into the monster's nest.
No, even better, she was a sexy super spy or alien hunter with giant round eyes and firm breasts and lean legs at that.
Hours later, when her partner had stumbled in and been subdued, Jerry had to take ten minutes to have a smoke, stare at his finds, and laugh at his luck. The male, with his pink lips and boyish features, completed his set. Attractive, well-trained, and so much useful knowledge. He had one with enough know-how of the authorities and locals to keep Jerry's cover in place while he indulged, and the other with the ability to make even the messiest leftovers disappear without a trace. He hadn't even thought of all the uses for the toys they could get him. Sure, the woman looked like she could be trouble if he didn't keep a close eye on her; and the boy was so tightly pressed that it took quite a bit for Jerry to get through his defenses – but this looked like it was worth the effort.
Jerry glanced at his dresser where the woman's firearm rested, gleaming dark metal in the dim light of his bedroom. Well-trained may be a bit of an understatement. Deadly would be closer. His eyes went back to the planes of pale flesh stretched in his bed and he ran a hand through a curtain of silky black hair. A soft gasp filled the air and Jerry chuckled. They'd watch his back, fill his bed and lure in his food like good little minions. Minions! He had minions, for the first time in years. In return for their hard work, he'd give them enough pleasure to keep their bodies sated and minds numb and enough of his body's own chemical cocktail to keep them complacent.
"Move over for me," Jerry whispered while he watched the two figures on the bed paw and explore each other's bodies at his request. They immediately stilled and he was met with matching expressions – pupils blown, lips red and a flush creeping up pale cheeks. A slim hand turned to move up Jerry's thigh and he shifted toward the bed to settle between their warm frames.
Bodyguards, housekeepers and playthings. Jerry really must have done something good in a past life.
Part Three
Ianto Jones was not in the best of moods. He was up to his eyeballs in work, mainly. On top of the general duties of protecting Cardiff from miscellaneous fuckery, his Hub was in disarray. There weren't enough people to justify him being mainly the administrator and there weren't enough hours in the day to even attempt at managing them both. Even on slow days, like today, he worked ten hours playing catch up for days he couldn't be there. Jack was gone, in London for the day meeting with UNIT officials about setting up an arrangement where they would provide backup for the Rift when Torchwood's slim staff needed it, so it had been just him and Gwen. That would've been fine, but it was obvious Gwen was just as exhausted as Ianto. He may have been trying to play field agent and office manager, but Gwen was trying to be multiple field agents at once on top of their only investigator.
She'd been irritable, taking a cup of coffee and mumbling about Rhys and delusions of grandeur before plugging in a pair of earphones and working on the stack of police reports and mission write-ups that had been threatening to swallow her desk. Ianto had shrugged and gone about his day. It wasn't like Gwen to keep her domestics to herself, but if that was what she wanted Ianto wasn't about to judge her for it. Mid-day hit and Ianto snuck out of the Hub to hit up the kebab stand near the Plass that Gwen particularly fancied. While waiting in line, his mobile rang. The display flashed Rhys Williams and Ianto's mouth twitched into a frown. Rhys and
Ianto were good mates, and enjoyed a fair bit of a drinking and carousing together, but they didn't call each other.
"''ello?"
"Ianto, mate, doing well?" Rhy's voice sounded tight and uncomfortable over the airwaves. Ianto blinked.
"Fine. Yeah. Getting lunch."
"How's Gwennie? Any aliens today?"
"Er. No. She's… good." Ianto trailed off and let the silence fill the line. He didn't know the protocol for telling the husband that the wife was in a mood. Was that a betrayal of some sort of confidence? It couldn't be, considering Gwen hadn't actually confided anything in him.
"Right. Well. I heard you're on your own tonight, so I've got a stew in the slow cooker. Thought I'd remind you of your invitation before you and Gwen both forgot."
"Ah. Thanks."
"There will be wine."
"Oh, I hope so."
"Yeah. So. That was it really."
"Okay."
"Listen. Did Gwen… mention anything? About our neighbor?"
"No."
"Right. Right then. I'll see you two around seven?"
"Sounds good."
As the two men bid farewell and disconnected the call, Ianto couldn't help but shake the confused feeling. It'd become a bit of tradition, starting before Tosh and Owen passed, that Ianto would go to theirs for dinner when Jack was gone, so he hadn't really needed a reminder. That was their time to be Welsh and drink a bit without Jack's shadow hanging over everything. And Rhys was checking up on Gwen, understandably, but what was that bit about the neighbor? Did he think Gwen was having an affair? That couldn't be it. The person in front of him in line stepped away with their piping hot food and Ianto pushed the thoughts of domestics and awkward stew dinners out of his head.
Ianto stayed busy for the rest of the day, excruciatingly so, but it was an improvement over the morning. Gwen was still in a mood and Ianto's head pounded silently at dealing with her. Best mate or not, she could put anyone on edge. By the end of the day, Ianto was positive that while Torchwood would guarantee he'd never actually live to see an old age, it did make sure he felt too old some of the time.
Ianto came out of the archives, dusty, irritable and ready for food and drink, to see the Hub was already in standby. He huffed. Gwen could've at least waited on him. Ianto decided then and there to just leave everything. If the bloody dinosaur wanted out, she could go out when Jack got back in a few hours. He stormed over to his workstation to grab his belongings and yanked a post-it note off his monitor.
Ianto – Got a headache. Went to get some rest before you come over. Sorry about being a moody git. Drinking Scrabble later to make up for it. – Gwen.
Well, that made things a bit better. Ianto finished collecting his things, including the bottle of wine he intended to share with his hosts, and, giving the gloomy half-illuminated Hub one final look, headed out to pretend to be normal for a while.
Gwen had lived in the same flat for about five or six years. It was a good neighborhood, filled with little shops and a deli that made fabulous sandwiches. Ianto didn't expect them to live there much longer though, too much talk of setting down roots and building families, and half of him considered buying their flat when they did move.
As he parked the car, he looked at their building and contemplated the idea again. It was an older home, refashioned into a series of flats on each floor, and still close enough to the Hub to get there quick enough if needed. The only downside he could see in buying the place would be Gwen's look of outrage when he painted over the horrible pale pink in the bath. She picked that color personally, she'd told him, and being a good friend Ianto didn't tell her it reminded him of watered down stomach medicine.
Ianto parked his car, grabbed his wine, and with the assuring beep beep of the door locking, started up toward to Gwen's. Movement above him caught Ianto's eye and he looked up to see a youngish man, maybe a few years younger than Jack's physical appearance, glancing down at him from a balcony. His gaze raked over Ianto and he smiled wolfishly. "Evening," an accented voice yelled down.
Ianto nodded. The accent – similar to Jack's but not quite – almost threw him. He raised a hand for a quick wave and smile and then… was jerked into the foyer of the building by a flushed Rhys Williams. Ianto raised an eyebrow as Rhys shut the door firmly behind him.
"Try not to encourage the animals, mate." Rhys's explanation was less than adequate until it dawned on Ianto.
"So that's the evil neighbor then?"
"Yeah. Right now my theories range from alien to puppy smuggler."
Puppy smuggler? Ianto knew better than to respond as he followed Rhys up the stairs and into their flat. It was clean, there was already a bottle of opened wine on the table and the smell of spices and herbs from the kitchen make Ianto's stomach remind him that he had only had half a kebab earlier in the day. Ianto glanced about. "Where's Gwen?"
"Showering. She came home and slept for a few hours. Rough day?"
A frown flickered across Ianto's face. "Not really."
Ianto helped Rhys set the table and finish the last touches on dinner. By the time they had finished the table was laden with homemade lamb stew with root vegetables and warm bread. Ianto was pouring three glasses of wine when Gwen emerged, fresh faced and smiling, from the bedroom.
Ianto had shed his tie and suit jacket once he began cooking, and his dress shirt had become un-tucked somewhere along the way. Between him and Gwen's simple denims and tunic shirt, it was easy for all of them to pretend, at least for a few hours, that no one in this flat knew anything about aliens. That was the best part of their refueling nights together. These nights of drinking and eating and acting normal had become so necessary and so precious in the wake of Tosh and Owen's deaths. Now Gwen and Ianto only had the other that could truly, honestly, relate to what their work day was like. Now they weren't a pack of professionals protecting Cardiff. Instead, it was two Welsh kids and their mad time-traveling boss. For that reason, Gwen and Ianto needed time to remind themselves, and each other, that the other was human and still there – that the job hadn't completely stripped away their ability to relate to one another without aliens involved.
Gwen smiled, kissed the top of Rhys's head and gave Ianto's shoulder an affectionate squeeze as she sat down. "This looks gorgeous," she raved. "Rhys always outdoes himself for our dinners."
Ianto nodded as he helped himself to filling his plate. "You feeling alright?"
"Yeah. Sorry about earlier. I think I was just too tired. Too many late nights catching up all at once."
Ianto smirked as he sopped up some stew onto a piece of bread. "Age." He dodged Gwen's punch to the arm and laughed.
"You date someone older than our current calendar system and you're giving me hell? You're an awful boy."
"Fair enough."
It continued to be a good evening. Dinner was eaten and Rhys shooed Ianto and Gwen to the sofa while he cleaned up. They finished off the first of the wine, put in a movie and played board games while the television noises filled the space around them. Only twice did Rhys swear and look irritated as a few random thumps drifted from upstairs. After a while, the annoyed looks only make Gwen and Ianto laugh and Rhys had to attempt to hide them to avoid feeling like the night's entertainment. Halfway through the second bottle, Ianto's mobile rang. He glanced down at the number and held up a hand to excuse himself. Gwen chuckled. She had her knees tucked up under her and she stretched one graceful leg out to nudge her husband, who was sitting next to her. They both knew who it was. Ianto wasn't fooling anyone, but Gwen knew he needed to have the illusion that he was keeping things low-key.
Ianto returned a few minutes later from Gwen's bathroom, the remains of a blush staining his neck, and smiled weakly. "Hub's doing alright." That was as close to an admission as Gwen was going to get to who had been the caller. Ianto knew Gwen was doing her best to hold in one of her indulgent, sweet looks that, just occasionally, made his shoulders bunch up in a mess of too tense muscles. She'd actively been working on it, after a long night and the final confession that Gwen made him feel like a teenager going on dates for the first time. Since then, she'd been much more aware of treating Ianto like a child, or more aptly, like someone who didn't know what he was getting into and needed an older sister to guide him. Ianto had one of those, and she'd been poor at giving guidance too. Now he just wanted someone to make jokes about the horrible life decisions he seemed to enjoy making.
"You leaving soon then?"
"Uh. No."
"You can. We won't mind."
"I'm having fun. I want to stay. He— the Hub will be fine."
Gwen seemed to be prepping herself for their normal argument and Ianto wondered which point she'd start with – whether it would be about what Ianto was doing; if he realized he was half to blame for the hot and cold game that he and Jack played; or if they both really were as emotionally stunted as they acted. Just as she opened her mouth, a scream filled the air, muted only slightly from the ceiling and floorboards above.
Ianto's eyebrows raised up nearly to his hairline and Gwen stared above them. "That was… loud."
"Yeah. It was."
Rhys stood up to throw away the empty wine bottle and grumbled. "This is what I was saying. It's not respectful and it's a bit creepy. Isn't it? That was suspicious, wasn't it? People don't scream like that unless it's for a reason."
Gwen and Ianto looked at each other. He made a favorite face of hers, eyebrows slightly lifted, shoulders hunched and an exaggerated frown on his face. She chewed her lip and nodded. "I'm going to go talk to him."
"Uh, no," Rhys interrupted. "We just heard loud screaming."
"And I catch aliens for a living. I've talked to him. It could have been a movie or something more… naked."
For some reason, Ianto's face flushed. He stood, swaying slightly from the wine. "I'll go with you."
Gwen shook her head. "No, I don't want to make it look like I've called someone on him or… want to join in by showing up with some young well-dressed bloke."
"But Rhys is right, we heard –"
"Ask Rhys how often we've heard ‘screaming' like that. Then ask what we usually see in the morning."
Ianto flopped back down on the couch. "It's like living below Owen."
Gwen wanted to laugh at his joke, at the fact that they were finally able to joke about Owen again, but she was too busy giving her serious face to Rhys. "I'll be right back."
She kissed Rhys's cheek before she left, waving and giving one of her best reassuring smiles. Once Gwen had left, the flat was silent. Rhys wasn't pleased and he shot an annoyed look at Ianto. Ianto, for his part, wasn't paying attention. He was watching the news as it played silently on the television. Though Ianto had the grace not to say it, Rhys knew what the other man was thinking. Gwen could handle anything that was upstairs – far better than Rhys, or really even Ianto, could have managed. Acting like put-out alpha male wasn't going to win points with her.
"Right. That's me told," Rhys finally admitted. He was rewarded with a small smile from Ianto. Bastard had just been sitting there, silently, waiting for Rhys to figure things out on his own. "Let's have another drink."
Gwen didn't come back for almost a half hour. At that point, even Ianto was concerned and seemed ready to go upstairs himself and check on things. When she did appear, her cheeks were flushed and her eyes were wider than normal. It was a party, she confirmed for them. She stayed and had a drink, chatted a bit, then realized she should be heading home. Jerry wanted to have dinner next week and Rhys scoffed at that.
They stayed up for a few more hours, polishing off another bottle of wine, until Gwen decided she was ready to retire and Ianto looked half-asleep on the sofa. As Rhys threw a pillow and blanket to Ianto, he realized for the first time that evening how silent the flat above him now was.
****
Ianto awoke, in the dark and slightly confused about his location. He was sleeping on Gwen's couch. This was not a rare occurrence since the night of Grey's attack. He groped blindly for his phone to check the time and his messages. Around three in the morning and two messages from Jack. One message asked what Ianto was wearing. When sleeping Ianto hadn't replied Jack had sent another asking for him to come in early. Ianto smirked and sat up slowly. He may as well go now. It wasn't as if Jack would be sleeping. Ianto bit back a laugh and slid his phone into his pocket.
As Ianto stretched, a noise near the entryway caught his attention. He glanced toward the partially open bedroom door. There was a large mass sleeping in the bed, but that was all he could see. Quietly, carefully, Ianto stood and crept toward the front of the flat. He snuck around the corner just in time to see the back of Gwen's head as the door shut behind it. Huh. That was strange. No Torchwood alerts, Gwen would have woke him for that, and she was fully dressed. Ianto leaned against the wall as he debated whether or not to follow. She was a grown woman and perfectly capable of making her own decisions. However, sneaking off in the middle of the night didn't really mesh with her normal comings and goings. At least not anymore.
With a grumble, Ianto toed on his shoes and slipped quietly into the hall. He heard the click of the hallway door and followed the noise. It was the door leading to the upstairs flat. Ianto's stomach dropped. Grown woman or not, this didn't look good. Ianto hesitated again. This wasn't his business, was it? Except it was. They were all family now. Him, Gwen, Jack and Rhys. They were, at least in Ianto's eyes, the closest family he'd ever had. He had a sister he barely spoke to and dead parents. The idea that he could have a family now made him fiercely protective of it and, honestly, he thought Gwen felt the same way. She'd made mistakes in the past, but that was before, and Ianto was not in any position to judge someone's old affairs. Ianto stiffened his shoulders. No need to assume the worst. The neighbor could've just been making noise again and Gwen wanted to calm it down before Rhys exploded.
He slunk up the stairs, not seeing Gwen, but spotting the door to Jerry's flat cracked open slightly. "Gwen?" Ianto whispered as his hand touched the doorknob. "You up here?" If anything illicit was going on, hopefully he could give them some warning before bursting in and creating an absolutely mortifying situation. Ianto pushed the door open – not being overtly loud about it, but not trying to hide his entrance either. The flat was mostly dark, though he did really appreciate the snazzy décor. It was clean, modern and masculine. There was a door, he could see it, that lead to what was probably a bedroom. Ianto started to creep his way toward it when something caught his eye and he frowned.
Across the small hall from the supposed bedroom was a bookshelf. It looked wrong. Ianto approached it and ran his hand down the wood. It looked like one of those shitty "fake" bookshelves that he'd seen in Sky Mall magazines and catalogs that arrived at the tourist office. Sure enough, once Ianto pressed on the edge of the frame, it sprung open to reveal another door. Another locked door.
Ianto looked around the flat, seeing no one, and pulled out the small lock pick from his wallet. With a few flicks of the wrist, he lock clicked and he grinned. Torchwood allowed him to use so many normally shady skills. It was great. Probably the best part of the job and much better than the early death thing that hung over all of them. He gently pushed the door, slowly at first, in case it creaked, and slipped inside once the gap was wide enough to accommodate him.
The sight that greeted Ianto in the tiny once-upon-a-time second bedroom made him flatten his back against the wall and gasp aloud. The room was covered in thick plastic sheeting. Sheeting Ianto was fairly familiar with from his times of disposing bodies. It was waterproof, easy to dispose and transport and, in the case of this room, great for keeping random blood splatters from cleanly painted walls or hardwood floors. The only window in the room was covered with a black-out curtain and then more plastic sheeting. The only lighting Ianto had was from a sickly yellowish ceiling light. It provided just enough glow for him to make out a figure, slumped in the corner and facing the wall.
Ianto darted over, his feet rustling through the sheeting, until he could crouch next to what he could see now was a dark haired girl. His stomach feeling like lead, Ianto rolled her over and gave out a sigh of relief. It wasn't Gwen. It wasn't anyone he recognized. It – she was a young girl, around Ianto's age, and after checking her pulse, she was clearly dead. Ianto bit his lip as he stood. Jerry might not be an alien, but he was a murderer, and Gwen was missing now. He pulled out his mobile. The signal was faint, but it was perhaps better for Ianto to get out first and contact Jack and the locals.
Just as Ianto turned to begin his creep out of the flat, a force slammed him against the wall. The impact caused the breath to whoosh from his lungs and spots to dance briefly in front of his vision. Ianto shook his head as he struggled to break free of the grip holding him. Once his vision cleared enough, he could make out that his attacker was clearly Jerry, the murdering neighbor from the balcony. Jerry had a hand wrapped tightly around each of Ianto's upper arms, and when Ianto moved to break the hold, he was slammed forcibly back into the wall. Jerry pushed himself close to Ianto, shoving his knee between the younger man's legs while he was momentarily dazed. Everything about the situation was confusing Ianto – how did he not hear the other man enter? Why couldn't he push him off? Jerry was about Ianto's build, if a little older. Ianto had taken down Weevils and worse of late and now found he was unable to break the hold of one man. His mouth dry, Ianto squirmed again and the grip on his arms tightened painfully.
Jerry grinned. Even in the dim lighting his teeth seemed unnaturally white. "I really didn't realize Wales had a delivery service for pretties. I thought I'd broke the bank when that raven haired beauty wandered up to see me, and now I get another one. I'm going to have to thank whoever keeps sending me gifts."
With a bit of effort, Ianto kept his face calm and looked his assailant dead in the eye. "Where's Gwen?"
"Oh, she's still around… still alive," Jerry added quickly when he saw Ianto's eyes go wide and dart toward the girl on the floor. "That one was an accident."
"An accident? You murdered her accidentally in your murder room? Really?"
"Yeah, she made too many sarcastic quips and just fell down dead." Ianto rolled his eyes and muffled a gasp when Jerry's fingers dug into his arm. "You know, I saw you," Jerry continued. "From the balcony. I thought to myself, there's a young man that's wound a little too tight. Am I right?"
Silence filled the room. "I think I am right," Jerry grinned again. "I thought to myself, ‘Jerry, I bet underneath all those layers is someone who could use a little attention. Someone who'd be fun if he learned to let go of everything.' Meeting you, I think I'm right."
When Ianto still didn't respond, the dark haired man leaned forward, pressing his weight into Ianto, and ran his lips over Ianto's jawline. He stopped when his lips were near Ianto's ear so he could whisper. "You want to see Gwen? Make sure she's okay?"
Ianto nodded. The breath on his ear was cold and he involuntarily shivered as he nodded again.
"Good. I wanted you to stay and play with us anyway."
Ianto felt a stab of fear, then pain, and before he could register what was going on, gray swam his vision and he collapsed.
****
As the young man slid gracelessly to the floor, Jerry Dandrige raised an eyebrow. He'd been serious in what he said – he'd love to know who kept sending him special deliveries. Not only was it off-putting to have someone, or a group of someones, seemingly already suspicious of him, whoever it was had great taste. The doe eyed woman and the well-dressed boy were like some sort of ridiculous bribe, and while Jerry was a huge fan of flattery and gifts, he didn't have a lot of room for house pets.
Jerry knelt, and with a grunt of effort tossed the limp form on the floor into a fireman's carry. The body in the corner didn't even merit attention. It belonged to whiney slip of a thing who hadn't left in the morning like he'd asked. He kicked open the door to his bedroom and dumped his cargo onto the large bed next to the unconscious Gwen Cooper. Jerry took a moment to fish for a cigarette and light as he stared at his two acquisitions. He'd found the gun on Cooper, the neighbor, on her first visit, which sent up enough red flags to make him edgy about finishing her off. He'd lifted it though – just in case she felt the need to come back, and when she did come it made him congratulate himself on his own foresight.
Cigarette dangling from his mouth, Jerry fished around the young man's trouser pockets until he found a wallet. Ianto Jones. 25. Library card. Dry Cleaner Reward Card – mostly filled. Credit Cards. A credit card in the name of one Jack Harkness. That was interesting. Business cards that just had Jones's name listed and a phone number. Business cards that had Captain Jack Harkness listed and a phone number. Pictures of an older woman and some kids. Picture of Jones and a very attractive black girl. Jones and Cooper. Jones and a lovely Japanese girl. Jerry was starting to think Ianto Jones got around a bit. Finally, buried behind all the photos, was a translucent ID badge with Jones's name, a number, a bar code and the word Torchwood emblazoned on the side. Jerry frowned and picked up the gun he'd collected from Cooper from off his dresser. Sure enough, in small letters down the side of the gun, Torchwood. Oh. Oh. These two were going to require some deeper investigation.
Jerry tossed the wallet and its contents on the dresser next to the gun. He then leapt, bouncing on his landing, on the bed between the two prone bodies. Cooper was gorgeous, and the subject of his attention first. She fit his type completely from her looks to her casual confidence and subtle strut. Gently, Jerry rolled her over onto her back. Her dark fringe fell away to reveal those large eyes, hidden now by unconsciousness, and her pixie shaped face and just fuckable mouth. He bent down, one hand stroking her hair, and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. Gorgeous. Another deep kiss against pliant flesh and Jerry turned, one hand still resting on the flat plane of Gwen's stomach, to examine his other new companion.
Jones had dark, nearly feminine, eyelashes that were a splash of black across his pale face and his lips were a ludicrous shade of soft pink. Jerry ran the fingertips of his free hand over the sleeping man's mouth just to make sure the color was natural. Bit younger than he liked in males. Pretty though.
Jerry stretched and stared at his ceiling. It'd been a while since he'd had long-term company. Maybe, just maybe, two candidates had stumbled upon him. If they were useful. Jerry sat up and tapped his finger against his mouth. He needed them awake, and compliant, while he investigated their potential. After a moment of thinking, he bit the finger near his mouth until dark purple-hued blood formed a dot at the tip. He held it upside down, pointing at Gwen's mouth, and then the drop wobbled and fell against her lips. Gwen's eyes flickered beneath the lids and her mouth opened slightly, allowing the droplet to slide inside. Perfect. Jerry propped himself up on an elbow and ran the same bloodied finger down Gwen's cheek, leaving a smeared trail as he went. Questions first, then hopefully a little play.
Two hours passed, and time found Jerry leaning against the doorframe to his bedroom wanting to thank whatever god was supposed to be looking out for his kind. Not that he always felt that way, but now, oh now he had reason to do it. A hundred years ago when an anomaly in space or time had dropped him on this backwater planet, Jerry, as he called himself now, had cursed the gods and fate. The place ended up being a treasure trove. The skills and talents of his people ended up being so far above the little peons here that it was like a never ending buffet of pleasure and feeding.
There had been adjustments both physically and mentally. His body naturally changed to blend him into his surroundings – giving him looks that only another true predator could appreciate. He was like a deadly flower to these insects: exotic, beautiful and irresistible. For whatever reason, the limited telepathy of his people didn't work well here. He could get flashes of things, impressions and general knowledge about a person. He could tell, with enough time and concentration, where a person worked or what they ate for breakfast, but not what dark thoughts they pondered when no one was around. It was frustrating, definitely, but still useful.
The best part of Jerry's new environment he discovered fairly quickly. Humans of this time hadn't developed any defenses against him. Back from his own time and place, his kind were hunted by humans and other life forms for being too good at surviving. They were feared, but not invincible. Here, it was as close as Jerry could manage to feeling godlike. The natural chemicals and toxins his people produced to capture prey turned these people into thralls unable to break away from Jerry's demands and willing victims to whatever he wanted – money, shelter, nourishment or sex.
Oh, the sex. The drugs. The hedonism of these people. It made the chemicals in Jerry churn at just the thought and bless his current body. The pheromones and endorphins humans produced were almost as addictive as the life force they provided for nourishment.
The first couple years were rough. Jerry almost died a few times as he learned the ins and outs of this planet and the best way to stay off the radar but still get his. He'd learned to move around, take a local or two as a guide, enjoy himself and head toward the next destination before any were the wiser. If he left a few corpses in his wake, who was harmed by it? Humans bred quickly enough at any rate. It was worth it though, and, if he was honest, Jerry had no qualms about spending the rest of his very long lifespan in his new personal playground.
Jerry took a drink from of vodka and glanced at the bed while stifling a laugh.
Now things had gotten better. Completely by accident. So he'd been a little careless in his new place. The flat he'd found was lavish enough for his needs and wants and modest enough to not make him interesting. And he'd intrigued Torchwood, who sent a woman and a boy to deal with him. Obviously underestimating him. However, the woman who'd shown up at his door with suspicious eyes and a hidden weapon was gorgeous. Sexy and completely oblivious to how her confidence and carriage made her irresistible. It'd been little effort to manipulate and worm his way into her mind – convince her to come back later to he could see what was under her t-shirts. Keep her docile while he took the time to really discover what a treasure he'd found. A super spy or alien hunter had just wandered into the monster's nest.
No, even better, she was a sexy super spy or alien hunter with giant round eyes and firm breasts and lean legs at that.
Hours later, when her partner had stumbled in and been subdued, Jerry had to take ten minutes to have a smoke, stare at his finds, and laugh at his luck. The male, with his pink lips and boyish features, completed his set. Attractive, well-trained, and so much useful knowledge. He had one with enough know-how of the authorities and locals to keep Jerry's cover in place while he indulged, and the other with the ability to make even the messiest leftovers disappear without a trace. He hadn't even thought of all the uses for the toys they could get him. Sure, the woman looked like she could be trouble if he didn't keep a close eye on her; and the boy was so tightly pressed that it took quite a bit for Jerry to get through his defenses – but this looked like it was worth the effort.
Jerry glanced at his dresser where the woman's firearm rested, gleaming dark metal in the dim light of his bedroom. Well-trained may be a bit of an understatement. Deadly would be closer. His eyes went back to the planes of pale flesh stretched in his bed and he ran a hand through a curtain of silky black hair. A soft gasp filled the air and Jerry chuckled. They'd watch his back, fill his bed and lure in his food like good little minions. Minions! He had minions, for the first time in years. In return for their hard work, he'd give them enough pleasure to keep their bodies sated and minds numb and enough of his body's own chemical cocktail to keep them complacent.
"Move over for me," Jerry whispered while he watched the two figures on the bed paw and explore each other's bodies at his request. They immediately stilled and he was met with matching expressions – pupils blown, lips red and a flush creeping up pale cheeks. A slim hand turned to move up Jerry's thigh and he shifted toward the bed to settle between their warm frames.
Bodyguards, housekeepers and playthings. Jerry really must have done something good in a past life.
Part Three
