dani_the_girl: (Default)
[personal profile] dani_the_girl
Title: Operation Ruthless
Fandom: Torchwood/RPS
Rating: 18. Here lies PWP
Summary: Captain Jack Harkness has volunteered for a risky mission to retrieve German naval code books and help to crack the Enigma cypher. Dr Alan Turing wants to make sure he's taking it seriously.
Authors note: The idea for this pairing came to me at random while cycling one day and I couldn't resist it so I started looking for a suitable scenario. When I discovered Operation Ruthless, a plan to lure some German boats out by crashing a captured German plane in the Channel, overpower their crew and pinch the code books proposed by Ian Flemming (yes, that Ian Flemming) but never implemented, I couldn't resist. The reason it was never implemented seems to be in some dispute, but, I theorised, the likelihood of the crash just killing the pilot must have been a problem, which is where Jack, busy avoiding his previous self in London and looking for something to do, comes in. The characterisation of Turing is entirely imagined, although he did historically express frustration at the insistance by society of supressing and concealing homosexuality. Thanks to [livejournal.com profile] the_summoning_d for the beta and encouragement!

Alan sat in the back of the briefing room, listening to Commander Flemming lay out the details of the operation. He wasn't needed, knew he should be spending his time back at the Hut trying to wrest some sense from the latest intercepts but he could almost see the proof in the back of his mind telling him that there was no point, that these ciphers were non computable. After all, why else had Ruthless been given the go-ahead? Without the code books they were just spinning their wheels, and Commander Flemming had finally come up with a plan to get hold of them.

He gazed at the back of their volunteer's head as Flemming moved on to the post splashdown phase of the operation. He seemed to be only half paying attention, Alan thought irritably, spending more time fiddling with the RAF uniform he was wearing and popping his gum than actually focusing on the briefing. Not that the uniform didn't sit very well on him indeed, Alan mused, becoming distracted himself for a moment as Harkness crossed his legs, presenting well trousered and extremely shapely calf for Alan's delectation. And Harkness was a distracting puzzle in all sorts of ways. No-one at Bletchley had been told much about him, just that he'd been seconded out of some intelligence agency, and that he'd volunteered for this op at Commander Flemming's request. It was certainly true that until that point the higher ups had been very skeptical about the whole idea and Alan hadn't really expected it would get the go-ahead at all so obviously Harkness was considered a good risk, despite the American accent, another mystery given the British uniform.

The lights came back up and Alan started with surprise, realising that he had day-dreamed away the rest of the briefing. He scrambled hurriedly up, following the officers as far as the doorway but he didn't feel ready to go back to Hut 8 yet. He turned back and looked over at Harkness, who had stopped to speak to Flemming, cordially, by the look of it; Alan wondered if they were old friends. He watched them, heads leaning forward, speaking softly, the sudden flashing smile on Harkness' face, and wondered if it was just their espionage training that made them seem conspiratorial together. Whatever they were discussing, Flemming seemed to give a satisfactory answer: there was that smile again, and Harkness shook his hand before turning towards the door. Seeing Alan waiting for him his eyebrows rose up toward his hairline and Alan felt a sudden unaccountable urge to blush under the long assessing look Harkness was giving him.

Harkness strode over, arm outstretched. "Looking for me?" he asked, scanning Alan's suit for name badges.

"Dr Alan Turing," Alan supplied, taking the hand. "I just wanted to re-emphasise to you the importance of this mission, Captain Harkness."

"Oh, call me Jack," Harkness said with another one of those smiles, displaying beautiful white teeth. "So, I understand you're to be the recipient of these beauties once I get my hands on them. Riveting reading, I'm sure."

"Very dry," Alan replied with some asperity, "but nonetheless vital to the work we are doing here. We cannot proceed without them."

"Well," Harkness suggested, "I apparently have a fitting for a Luftwaffe uniform now, the better to take my supposed rescuers by surprise. Perhaps you'd like to join me and explain it all."

Flemming's Sergeant had apparently taken over one of the offices used by the phalanx of people who oversaw the administration for Bletchley and turned it into a temporary costume shop. Over the next half an hour while they waited for him to finish up whatever arrangements he was seeing to for Flemming elsewhere on the base, Alan's irritation at Captain Harkness' apparently flippant attitude to the mission was entirely dispelled to be replaced by a certain grudging respect for the man. He may have appeared to be only half concentrating on the briefing but he obviously knew a lot more about the Enigma puzzle and the vital importance of the code books to solving it than Commander Flemming had covered that afternoon. Alan watched as the Sergeant took measurements - chest, arms, collar, in-seam - before turning away to rummage in the cases of uniforms presumably retrieved from the dead or captured for something that might do and found he had quite lost his thread of debate. He hurriedly tuned back into the discussion to find Harkness seemed to be fascinated by the idea of actually building a universal machine, talking about how they wouldn't need all this derring do if they had the mechanical means at their disposal. Alan pointed out that they would be very lucky indeed to be able to build something that could calculate the decrypts in any kind of timely fashion, but Harkness just winked at him. "Some day," he said.

Alan found himself once again musing what a shame it was that Forces men were so hedged around with regulations, otherwise he would be sorely tempted to invite Captain Harkness over for cocktails and perhaps some dinner to continue this most interesting discussion. He was almost sure Harkness would be interested, as well as interesting, but he'd discovered over the last year or two that while the commanders were prepared to be lenient about his entertaining as long as it was discreet, officers that visited Bletchley tended to bring an 'on base' attitude with them, or more specifically a 'not while we're on base' attitude.

The sergeant came up with a Hauptmann's uniform and Alan made to leave but was halted by Harkness' hand on his sleeve. He turned back to find Harkness smiling that smile again. "Don't you want to check on my disguise skills?" he asked and there was no mistaking that tone of voice. Definitely interested.

"Why not?" he answered with a wicked grin of his own. "Sergeant, we'll call you if we need anything." The Sergeant was out of the door almost before he'd finished the sentence, probably eager to disassociate himself from two such rogues, thought Alan irritably. People were so narrow minded.

"His loss," Harkness said with a shrug of the shoulders, obviously thinking much the same thing. "Still, gives us plenty of room to make ourselves comfortable. Why don't you have a seat?"

"Oh, I'd rather stand, I think," Alan said with a smile. "After all, you may need some help with your buttons."

That made Harkness chuckle, low and rich. "Well," he said, unbuttoning the jacket of his flight uniform, "these I can manage OK, but ties, now those are always a problem." He slipped the jacket off his shoulder and tossed it to one side. Alan found himself having to resist the impulse to lick his lips at the sight of Harkness' shoulder muscles gliding smoothly under his shirt. Of course that was the up-side of Forces men. All those press-ups and morning runs.

He grabbed Harkness' tie and pulled him gently towards him. "And we wouldn't want you to make a mess of your uniform tie," he murmured. He eased the winsor knot down and then lent forward to kiss Harkness as he started to gently unpick it. For a moment, Harkness' lips were just a warm pressure against his own and then they were both open mouthed, kissing deep and sloppy. Perhaps it'd been as long for Harkness as it had for him. He finished unknotting the tie but kept both ends held tight in his fist, just a little pressure pulling Harkness towards him and reached out with his other hand for Harkness' shoulder, feeling the muscles shift and move slightly under his fingers as Harkness shifted his weight in a little closer and put his hands on Alan's hips.

Harkness leaned back for a moment from their kiss and Alan was pleased to note that the slightly smug, cocky (hah!) expression Harkness was wearing earlier has disappeared to be replaced by an intense, focused look. His eyes were dark, hungry. He slid one hand off Alan's hip towards the erection clearly visible in his trousers. "Want to bet I can get you off before you can finish undressing me?" he asked, low voiced.

Alan heard his breath catch as Harkness' hand brushed feather light up the outline of his cock through the two layers of fabric. "What are the stakes?" he asked hoarsely.

"Winner's choice of position," Harkness said with a predatory smile.

Alan looked at the smile and the fastenings he'd have to negotiate and thought his chances were slight, but the contest would be fun, and with any luck he'd a good idea of the forfeit he'd get to pay. And one never knew - after all, concentrating on shirt buttons might work in his favour. "Deal," he replied, reaching around Harkness to flip the lock on the door before moving back to lean against the desk. As Harkness came in close again, he grabbed one end of the tie and pulled it around and off, tossing it over to join the jacket. "Tricky part first. Put your foot up here," patting the table next to him.

As he'd hoped, Harkness was damn flexible. One foot up on the table, he leaned forward, balancing himself against his own bunched thigh to run his thumb all the way from the base to tip of Alan's covered cock, making him catch his breath and lose his grip on the shoelaces he was trying to untie. He continued teasing as Alan fumbled, alternating feather light touches, barely there, with firm pressure, pads of his fingers pushing, grasping insistently. By the time he finally got the first shoe and sock off, Alan was seriously considering taking a break from undressing Harkness to open his own trousers before he went crazy but as soon as his hand drifted in that direction, Harkness grabbed it. "Patience, Alan," he said with a grin. "I can call you Alan, can't I?" He shifted position as Alan nodded dumbly, presenting his other shoe for attention. "After all, got to give you a sporting chance."

"I like a challenge," Alan replied softly, dropping his other hand to stroke down Harkness' other calf toward the other shoe.

"Oh, well in that case," Harkness said, and dropped his hands to Alan's belt buckle. Alan had hoped to get the other shoe out of the way while Harkness found his way in, but he was obviously a past master and had the belt and fly button open just as Alan got the knotted lace undone and Alan found he had to drop his fingers to the desk and hiss behind his teeth as Harkness drew the zipper down with his fingers following behind it, stroking through the thin cotton boxers, making his cock jerk and leak.

"Come on, Alan," Harkness whispered as he eased his fingers inside Alan's shorts, stroking his thumb gently over the head of Alan's cock, spreading the pre-come in a thin film. "I want to kiss you while I'm doing this but unless you take my shoe off, I'm just going to have to keep doing this." He withdrew his hand and licked delicately at his thumb. "Tastes good," he continued, returning for a second helping. "Want to try some?"

Shoelace, Alan thought determinedly. Even if he wasn't going to win this he should make an honest effort. Just focus on untangling, loosening it. Not on Harkness' hand, Harkness' fingers, Harkness' eyes. When Harkness raised his hand to Alan's lips, Alan took the opportunity to do a little distracting in his turn, swirling his tongue around them, sucking the salty taste of himself off them. He held eye contact while he pushed the shoe and sock over the toes and off onto the ground. Harkness gave a low growl in the back of the throat, took his foot out of Alan's hand and surged in. Alan found himself pinned against the table, one of Harkness' legs between his thighs, one of Harkness' hands tangled in his hair as they kissed. He reached for Harkness' shirt button and Harkness reached down between them with his free hand. No more teasing, he wrapped those long fingers around Alan's cock with a firm grip and started to stroke up and down the shaft.

Fortunately, shirt buttons didn't present too much of a problem even to the minimal shreds of concentration remaining but then Alan realised he had made a miscalculation. He wasn't going to be able to take the shirt off, or the undershirt beneath it, without getting Harkness to take his hands off him. Which he would probably do if asked but Alan really didn't feel like asking. He slid his hands under Harkness open shirt and grabbed his hips, pulling him closer. He felt Harkness grin into the kiss, acknowledging victory and then he pulled away to fasten his lips into the hollow of Alan's neck, pushing in with his thigh, increasing the speed and the pressure. Alan found himself muttering incoherently: "Harkness, oh, god. Oh."

"Jack," Harkness murmured, lifting his mouth to Alan's ear. "Say it, Alan."

He bit Alan's earlobe gently and Alan felt himself going over the edge. "Jack, oh, Jack" he hissed as he came messily all over Jack's hands.

For a moment, he just rested there, letting his breathing and heart rate recover a little from the intensity of the orgasm. "So," said Jack with a smile and a gesture of his sticky hand at his still very dressed state, "you didn't get very far then."

"No," admitted Alan with a chuckle, digging in a pocket for a handkerchief, "I concede." He cleaned himself up a little and passed it to Jack to wipe his own hands on. "I believe a forfeit was mentioned." He reached forward to slip Jack's shirt off his shoulders.

"There was indeed," Jack confirmed. "I love winning." He pulled off his undershirt and Alan couldn't resist running his hands over the revealed skin, tan and taut with muscle. Jack leaned in for another kiss before stepping back to extricate his greatcoat from the heap of clothes. "They're great, these coats," he said conversationally. "Lots of deep pockets - room for anything you might need. Ah, here it is!" He dropped the coat back onto the pile, brandishing the tube of K-Y he'd extracted triumphantly, scanning Alan's face for reaction.

Alan felt himself grinning. It wasn't often that he got to be the led instead of the leader, too used to having to be the sure one, the guide leading the explorer. Jack grinned back, just a touch feral, eyes still dark. He stalked back over to where Alan was still leaning on the desk and pulled him into another deep, wet kiss, demanding and hungry. Alan dropped his hands to Jack's belt, fumbling it undone awkwardly in the tight space between them, opening the fly, feeling the Jack's cock hot and heavy through his tight shorts. "Go on then," Jack growled, "over the table. Turn round."

Alan turned, pushing his trousers and boxers right down out of the way and leaning over the table, propping himself comfortably on his forearms. He heard Jack behind him getting rid of his own trousers, popping the cap on the lube before coming up close behind. "Mmm, lovely," Jack murmured above him, stroking his arse gently, leaving hot damp trails where his fingers passed. Alan gasped as the cold lube was applied to his arsehole and then groaned as Jack's finger pushed in, stroking delicately around his back passage, slicking him up and opening him out.

He found himself whining under his breath as Jack withdrew, leaving a moment of emptiness before there was another touch of cold and a second finger pushed in beside the first. He pushed back onto them as they pushed in, his own cock hard again and pulsing with his heartbeat as Jack fingered him.

"Want to bet," said Jack softly as he twisted and reached inside Alan, "that I can make you come while I fuck you?"

"I don't doubt it," Alan said breathlessly and then gasped as Jack pushed in just a last bit futher and clipped his prostate with the end of those long fingers.

"I'm touched by your confidence," Jack replied, pulling back slightly, "but let's make it interesting." He was holding Alan's hip firmly with his other hand now, stopping him from pushing back further onto the fingers inside him.

On the one hand, Alan thought, there seemed no chance he would win this bet even if he wanted to. On the other, losing wasn't turning out so bad this time around. "Fine," he agreed, "what's on the table?"

Jack chuckled at that. He was holding the fingers almost still now, just tiny fluttering strokes and curls teasing away. "You win, I'll take you out. Dinner and dancing, when I get back. I win, you take me."

"Done," Alan said without hesitation. "Now do it!"

"Patience, Alan!" Jack admonished, removing the fingers and resting the head of his cock on the vacated opening. He took his other hand away, presumably to slick himself up and Alan concentrated on holding himself perfectly still, not just pushing himself back and swallowing Jack's cock inside of himself. Finally, Jack seemed satisfied and pushed, his cock sliding slowly inside, stretching Alan's loosened muscles tight. Gripping Alan's hips again, he asked "Fast or slow?"

"Your choice, you won," Alan pointed out.

"Ah, but I want to win again," Jack replied with a little squeeze. "Fast or slow?"

"Fast then, damn it," Alan replied.

"Fast it is," Jack agreed. He twitched his hips, pushing his cock the last quarter inch inside, hips now flush with Alan's arse cheeks and reached around to wrap Alan's cock in his hand again, then finally started to move, quickly finding a fast rhythmn, snapping his hips to push himself all the way in on each stroke, his hand moving in time. If they hadn't been in the middle of one of the bases main buildings, Alan thought he would have been yelling, crying out, it felt so good. As it was he found he couldn't stop himself from moaning softly in time with Jack's thrusts.

He could feel Jack was close when he put his hand on the centre of Alan's back, pushing him down a little, adjusting the angle just slightly and Alan gasped out "Oh, Jack!" as the end of Jack's thrusts began to hit the spot dead on, each one sending a shower of sparks up into his brain and down into his cock.

"Oh yeah," Jack muttered, "come on, Alan, come with me," and Alan found himself coming over Jack's hand pumping him as Jack himself unloaded into his arse.

The trouble, Alan found himself thinking muzzily, with sex in offices was that there was no where to lie down once you'd finished. He wasn't at all sure that his legs would support him after that. Jack pulled gently out of him and came around to prop himself up against the desk next to Alan, his breathing sounding as ragged and worn out as Alan felt, he noted with a little gleam of satisfaction. He pushed himself up and then a thought struck him. The benefit of sex in this particular office should be that the bag the Sergeant had abandoned when he left them to it should contain the bottle of whiskey he was sure Commander Flemming would have ordered up from London for after his dinner with Colonel Tiltman.

He pulled up his trousers and looked around. Sure enough, there was the bag, with Jack's Luftwaffe uniform still laid out untouched on top of it. A little rummaging around and yes, there it was, over three quarters full. He eased the stopper out and took a swig, relishing the energising burn of it down the back of his throat. He proffered the bottle to Jack, who accepted it with a grin and took a sizeable swig himself before passing it back over. "Cheers," he said cheerfully, stripping off the last of his clothes before picking up the grey German trousers.

"Do you want me to leave you to it?" Alan suggested. It would be awkward enough for Jack without them walking out side by side, after all. Jack gave him a surprised look.

"What on earth for? Here, give me a hand with this tie, will you?" Alan walked over and Jack raised his chin while Alan lifted his collar and measured out the lenghts of tie on either side of Jack's neck.

Once he had it all neatened and in place, he replied "I don't want to make things difficult for you with your CO. I know they tend to disapprove."

Jack laughed. "Oh, they've been disapproving of me for years. Keeps 'em amused, having a new story to tell. Anyway, we've things to discuss."

"We do?" Alan asked, surprised.

"Sure we do. We've got to decide where you're taking me for dinner and dancing when I get back!"

Date: 2008-08-22 04:38 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] the-summoning-d.livejournal.com
*applause* Bravo! Encore!
And yay - I get a mention :D

Date: 2008-08-22 04:42 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] the-summoning-d.livejournal.com
If cheerleading leads to such excellent porn fic, I should do it more often ;D

Date: 2008-08-22 05:10 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] avon-09.livejournal.com
More fic like this please?

Date: 2008-08-22 06:59 pm (UTC)
ext_3907: (Default)
From: [identity profile] addyke.livejournal.com
Thank you! Thank you! I love the idea of Jack/Alan Turing as a pairing (I'm actually working on a Jack/Alan fic myself) and that was a great fic...
I normally don't comment on NC-17/smutty fics but that was a great imagining of it. (Plus it was obvious you know your stuff as far as Turing, Bletchely and the Engima project is concerned and l love that in fic.)

Date: 2008-08-23 01:07 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] laurab1.livejournal.com
I love this :)

The characterisation of Turing is entirely imagined, although he did historically express frustration at the insistance by society of supressing and concealing homosexuality.

Not quite sure what you mean, here, but Turing was gay, and got *completely screwed over* by the government, when his relationship was discovered.

Date: 2008-08-23 12:14 pm (UTC)
ext_3907: (Default)
From: [identity profile] addyke.livejournal.com
And his relationship was discovered because he refused to hide it, refused to be ashamed of it. He was heavily inflununced by the Danish gay rights movement (one of the oldest gay civil rights movements in the world pre-dating the Stonewall riots by decades).
It was the way in which he was punished that drove him over the edge, not his homosexuality itself. He killed himself in probably the most melodramatic ways I can think of - a cyanide-laced apple. Supposedly he was a big fan of Disney's Snow White.

Date: 2008-08-23 02:18 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] shane-mayhem.livejournal.com
Oh my God you win! XD that's GREAT! I happen to love military slash, particularly historical military slash, like nobody's business, and you just made me very happy. ;)

Date: 2008-08-28 01:25 pm (UTC)
coneyislandbaby: (Default)
From: [personal profile] coneyislandbaby
Oh this is wonderful. I do like Jack meeting (in various ways) historical figures. I liked the dynamic very much. And the smut was hot. :-D

Date: 2008-09-06 11:04 pm (UTC)
ext_4016: (Default)
From: [identity profile] mythtaken.livejournal.com

So much love for this! This is gorgeous. I've been secretly slashing Jack and Turing in my head ever since I realised Torchwood must have recruited him in the 50s and faked his death. I absolutely adore your idea of them, uh, liaising at Bletchley Park.

Date: 2009-02-14 03:38 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] demotu.livejournal.com
This is fabulous - hot and sad, in an odd sort of way. I loved Jack all cocky, but his comment at the end "what on earth for?" sort of highlighted the difference in chances and opportunities between him and Turing.

Date: 2009-02-28 11:31 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] elainasaunt.livejournal.com
I'm in London for the weekend, and one of the main reasons for the visit was so my BF and I could see the Ian Fleming exhibition at the Imperial War Museum before it closes. In a section on his work at Bletchley Park, one display concerns Operation Ruthless. It says the idea was abandoned after a couple of weeks because even Fleming realized it was 'nonsense'.

Of course I thought of this story immediately, but had to squee silently to myself because it's sometimes hard to explain to the BF what fanfic is and that I am still obsessed with DW and TW all these months after discovering the latter.

I was struck by the fact that there was nothing on Turing in this section of the exhibition. Even more surprising is that there was no mention of him (that I saw) in the permanent exhibition on the Secret War. This section of the museum is new, I think - at least, I've no recollection of seeing it on past visits. It is superb, by the way, an extensive look at British spying through the ages. It really put the Fleming show in context.

Very nice Alan/Jack imagining. I've been interested in Turing's personal story for years, ever since seeing Derek Jacobi play him in Hugh Whitemore's Breaking the Code in the West End in the late '80s. What a tragedy.

Date: 2010-03-27 02:21 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] bethynyc.livejournal.com
I loved this--here from Fandom Secrets which had an Alan Turing secret today! This made so much sense in Alan Turing's history, and in Jack's background as well, and so very hot!

Thank you for writing it!

Date: 2016-04-24 07:48 am (UTC)
From: (Anonymous)


dani_the_girl: (Default)
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