Fic - Breathe
Title: Breathe
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: Adult - rough sex.
Spoilers: Season 2 Finale.
Summary: Ianto’s grief set immediately at the end of Exit Wounds. I didn’t mean to write this but it just came out!
Disclaimers: I own nothing!
Notes: This was an emotional one to write. Comments are life!
I can’t breathe. The grief claws at me, wrenching my stomach and crawling down my throat. There is nothing but the grief.
Her body, broken. The times she has cried in my arms and her tears have allowed mine to flow. After the cannibals, she clung to me in the dark, taking comfort in the mere presence of another soft body. And after Mary, when the grief and anger overwhelmed her, it was me she turned to. A shared grief for lost loves, a shared anger at the one who took the life. Jack.
She understood the anger and embraced it with me, pushing him away together. Hating his coldness.
I remember the smile when I knew she had forgiven him. I remember my own smile, when I realised I’d forgiven him long ago.
Jack has held me through grief, many times. But now he shares it. For her. For him. And there’s nothing he can do but grip my shoulder and try to keep Gwen together. I want to shrug him away, or turn to him and accept his embrace. But I can do neither. The grief has frozen me and there is nothing else.
Gwen’s going home, going to cling to Rhys and weep in the darkness. I need someone to cling to. I want it to be Jack but he needs me to be his rock. He shouldn’t have to comfort me all the time.
I want to be there for him, let him cling to me in the darkness and sob, let him be weak the way I can’t be.
I have to be strong. Brave. Stoical. That’s me. That’s what I have to be, pushing the pain away. There’s nothing else I can do.
We’re alone in the hub. The new body in the morgue stands out in my mind. Just us and her broken body in the silence of the hub. And his nothingness, dead already. He’ll never come home.
I want to say Jack's name, call him to me, whisper my mantra of his name as he buries himself inside me. I want to make love with him but we never do that.
He looks at me and there is the pain, clear and aching in his eyes. I gasp. It hurts to look into his eyes. I want to look away but I can’t. There is such startling vulnerability in his eyes that I’ve never seen before.
My eyes are hard, I know. I want to let the tears fall but I can’t. I blink furiously and look away. I can’t be weak, not when he is. I must stay strong.
He’s stepping towards me. I want to run. I can’t face this weakness I see in him.
I back away and then he’s running. He shoves me into the wall, hands hard on my shoulders. I fight against him, throwing my shoulder into his chest and forcing the breath out of him.
But he’s coming back. He’s strong and even the grief can’t make me stronger. He has me completely.
He slams me hard into the wall, then flips me and presses my face into the dirty brick. I push back against him, panicky but my cock is hard against the wall. He bites into my neck and I let out a cry. It’s not about the grief. I won’t let it be.
He yanks my collar away from me, ripping the jacket and the shirt beneath it. He presses his face into my shoulder, biting down into tender flesh. There’s wetness on my skin, blood and tears.
He wrenches my trousers and underwear to my thighs and then he’s inside me and, oh god, it hurts. I push back against him, grinding hard and the pain shoots through me.
I can feel him pulsing inside me and he thrusts, knocking the breath out of me. He’s stroking my cock and the pleasure hurts. I don’t want it.
I push his hand away and grind myself against the wall. There can be nothing but the pain of him inside me, the pain of my cock grating the wall. I can’t handle anything else, no other pain and no pleasure.
He’s fucking me hard, unyielding and distant. No feelings.
He pulses and twitches inside me and then he’s coming and I can feel him, shooting deep inside me, shuddering and trembling against me. The wall wrenches my orgasm from me and then the pain takes over. My whole body aches with pain and my chest throbs with it. Then I’m crying and he’s gathering me up in his arms and his face is wet in my shoulder.
Then he’s kissing me and I draw him in, pulling everything I can from the kiss, from him, and he gives it all. He’s taking something from me too and all that exists is each other. He’s mine and I am his and us is all there is.
“Ianto,” he whispers, clutching me. He’s reminding himself he still has me. “Ianto, Ianto.” I let out a breath. He kisses my bloody shoulder and the sobs shake our bodies.
I frame his face with my hands, press us together. Our eyes are closed and all we can do is drink in the feeling of each other. He clutches my waist and my fingers stroke soft trails over his cheeks.
“Jack,” I whisper. “I’m here, Jack. Jack. Jack.”