A Matter of Time (7/20)
Rating: R
Summary: In which Ianto doesn't have a good time.
Thanks to my betas, bacchae777 and particular thanks for this chapter to thaddeusfavour, without whom things would Make No Sense.
Previous chapters here.
~
“Good,” said Kethan. “I am too, but we’re going to have to change the plans. You can’t land; we might never get off the surface. Dock at the station instead, I’ll meet you there. Don’t even cool the engines, alright?”
“Trouble?”
“Of a sort. We need to boot it from here, quickly.”
~
The shuttle back up to the space station hadn’t been much more pleasant than the trip down, and Ianto felt dazed as he followed Kethan through the wide corridors. The station was very crowded, and Kethan had grabbed Ianto’s hand when they’d exited the shuttle, pulling him along almost at a run.
“Are we in a hurry?” Ianto called, a little annoyed at being tugged around like a small child. “I can follow you on my own, you know.”
“And get kidnapped by someone trying to get to me?” replied Kethan. “No thanks.”
“Do you think there’ll be more time agents waiting for us?” he asked as Kethan pulled him into a lift. Twice as many people as Ianto thought possible followed them into the small area, pushing Kethan and Ianto to the back.
“If you shout that loud enough, probably,” Kethan hissed.
“I’m sure they’re eavesdropping in the lift.” Kethan was more paranoid than Jack, apparently.
“No, but possibly on the security camera,” Kethan whispered, jerking his chin up towards the ceiling. “If the Agency has found out Uno’s dead, they’ll certainly send someone else.”
“Couldn’t they have just, I don’t know, appeared wherever you were? Why did Uno have to look for you on the planet’s surface, anyway?”
“You can’t track a manipulator jump to that degree of accuracy. They probably knew I was en route for Trell when it happened, but not which ship I was on.”
“Couldn’t they hack the passenger logs?”
“Yes, because when I’m running from the Time Agency, I always use my real name to book transportation,” said Kethan, rolling his eyes as they exited the lift.
Ianto looked at him in surprise. “Kethan Brisho isn’t your real name?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as dismayed as he felt.
Kethan shook his head.
Well. Just when he thought he was finally learning something about Jack. “So all this time I’ve been calling you Kethan, it hasn’t been your real name?”
“Well, actually,” he started, looking around, “Kethan is my birth name, Brisho isn’t. I was registered under K. Brisho. Kethan’s common enough I didn’t mind using it casually.”
“What’s your real last name?” Ianto asked, hoping he might finally get a straight answer.
“Can’t say,” he replied. “Not here. Too many ears.”
“On the ship, then?”
Kethan gave him a look. “Why so curious? It’s just a name.”
“It’s a lot,” Ianto said, shortly, removing his hand from Kethan’s grasp. “Is this space station bigger on the inside, or are we going to reach our destination any time soon?”
“Patience, young one,” Kethan intoned, but then lifted his arm and waved. “Brenneth!”
Ianto looked ahead. A man was standing by an airlock, grinning broadly and waving back. When they reached him, he leaned down and kissed Kethan firmly, and then pulled him into a hug.
“So, where are the spies you’ve picked up? Do I need to get you out of certain death again?”
“I definitely saved your life, last time.”
“Not in my timeline!” Brenneth laughed. “You were younger than I’d seen you before, twenty-six?”
“Are we talking about the time on Enni?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Right, I remember,” Kethan said. “By my count, though, I last saw you at the carnival.”
“That was seven years ago.”
“And I’m still waiting for that drink,” Kethan shot back.
“Then get your arse inside,” Brenneth replied, slapping the behind in question and waving them through the airlock. “I’m sure Jotir has something good in the kitchen.”
Brenneth smiled at Ianto and followed him and Kethan in through the airlock. “You must be Ianto.”
“Yes sir,” Ianto replied. “Are you the captain of this ship?”
“No, I’m the second. You needn’t call me sir, in either case, Brenneth will do fine.”
Ianto nodded. It was habit, after Torchwood One, and he’d kept it up with Jack despite Three’s comparative informality. At the time, it had been a deliberate attempt to distance himself from the man. Now when he used it, it was a small - futile - attempt to maintain a professional relationship with Jack outside of the bedroom. Or hothouse.
They made their way through a short passageway and came into a large room, packed with crates and containers. They passed through the main floor and out a hatch at the far end, coming out into a room that seemed to be a kitchen, dining room, and living room all at once. Two human women and an alien, sex unidentifiable, occupied the table in the middle of the room, but they all stood up when Kethan, Ianto and Brenneth came in. The women came up to them, but the alien, a pale, wispy thing, took off out the exit at the back of the room.
Ianto watched, hanging back, as hugs and kisses were exchanged between Kethan and the women, observing them as they exchanged greetings. They were both older than Kethan, in their fifties likely, attractive in the way older women who are confident and fit are, though in very different ways. One was tall and broad and could probably take Brenneth - who towered, even over Kethan - and the other was wiry and perhaps the same height as Gwen. She seemed to be doing most of the talking, while the first woman was content to sit back and listen.
Kethan, beckoned Ianto over, interrupting his observations.
“This must be the mysterious Ianto Jones you wrote to us about,” said the short woman, looking him over with a clinical eye. “You really think he’s up for it?”
Ianto bristled, but Kethan just laughed and the taller woman shook her head.
“Don’t mind Zoanne,” she said, her voice low and calm. “Her bark is worse than her bite.”
“But don’t get sick,” Kethan cautioned. “Then her bite is far, far worse. She’s the ship’s medic,” he added at Ianto’s curious look.
“Doctor, thank you. I didn’t train for six years to be a field medic.”
“And this,” Kethan continued over Zoanne, “is Opal Varelle. She’s the Captain of this spacewreck.”
The Captain was, apparently, used to Kethan and didn’t rise to the bait; instead, she reached out and shook Ianto’s hand. “Good to have you on board, Ianto Jones. Many hands make light work. Can I ask what you specialize in, for distribution of labour purposes?”
Ianto hesitated.
“Ah, yes,” said Kethan. “I forgot I hadn’t told you yet. Ianto is a bit of a guest now.”
Captain Varelle raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t a cruise ship, Kethan.”
“No,” interrupted Kethan. “I didn’t mean a guest here, I meant a guest now. As in, in time. He’s twenty-first century.” He grinned at Ianto. “Followed me home, mum, can I keep him?”
Varelle frowned. “Not familiar with our tech, then, I suppose,” she mused, looking as though she received time travelers on her ship every day. “That rules out a lot, but we can have you doing the busy work.”
“I worked with the mainframe, and the archives, back home,” Ianto offered. “And made the coffee.”
“Excellent,” said Zoanne, briskly. “Kareh can show you around our computer, maybe you’ll be a fast learner, and Jotir will introduce you to the kitchen. Lord knows I could use your help in the infirmary, the last three shipments are still lying everywhere, I’ve gotten behind.”
“Zoanne,” said Kethan, looking amused. “I’ve seen the infirmary across twenty-five years, and you always have the last three shipments to put away.
“It was sparkling in 5044,” she said, looking smug.
“You’d been raided. They took all the medical supplies.”
Zoanne reached around and slapped his bottom. “Just checking. I wasn’t sure you’d been there yet.”
“How old are you?” the Captain asked quietly. Ianto got the feeling that she was not the kind of woman to make a scene, even in the case of an apocalypse.
“Twenty eight. First time I’m not back in time, actually.”
Captain Varelle had a pensive look on her face, which Kethan noticed. “What are you thinking?”
“Just that this is the oldest we’ve seen you,” she said. “So either you’ve caught up with yourself or-”
“Or I die a terrible death in short order. Good to know,” Kethan shoved his hands in his pockets. “Where’d Jotir disappear to?” That must have been the alien who’d left when they came in,
“Away from you, I’m sure.”
“He likes me!” Kethan said, sounding affronted.
“You keep telling yourself that,” replied Zoanne. “Never mind him, Ashild will be more than-”
She was interrupted by a sudden screech, and Ianto was almost knocked over as someone barreled past him into Kethan. The blur resolved into a woman, who successively hugged, kissed on both cheeks, and punched Kethan.
“How old?” she demanded.
“Twenty-eight,” Kethan said, smirking.
“Shit!” she said. “It’s never going to happen, then, is it?”
“I couldn’t let you have that sort of an advantage over me,” Kethan said solemnly, but then broke into a real smile. “It’s great to see you, kiddo.”
“You too. Say goodbye this time and I might even see you again.”
“It was an-”
She waved him off. “I need to do a last minute supply run, want to come?”
Kethan shook his head. “Can’t. Work to do. Important people to see.” She glared at him, and he softened. “Honestly, I can’t risk being out in the open any longer. You’ll have to take someone else.”
She shrugged at him and then turned to Ianto.
“Well then, how about you?” she said, in a pitch perfect Jack-getting-to-know-you voice. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
Ianto couldn’t help blushing. She was very attractive, curvy in all the right places, with a wide mouth that twitched suggestively.
“This is Ianto,” said Kethan. “Leave him alone, Ashild.”
“Whatever for?” she asked, looking puzzled.
“He’s a one man kind of boy,” he said, holding up a hand when she started to talk. “No, don’t ask, I’ll explain the social mores of past centuries to you later. Go get your supplies and we’ll get smashed together later, alright?”
Ashild conceded, and went off to gather other members of the crew.
“Who’s she?” Ianto asked after she left the room.
“My daughter,” said Varelle, who’d been watching the exchange with amusement. “And Zoanne’s.”
“Don’t let her hear you introducing her that way,” Kethan warned. “She’s security, if you ask her.”
“She’s twenty-four,” grumbled Zoanne. “And stupid.”
“No,” said Kethan, grinning. “She’s just headstrong. Like a couple of other women I could mention.”
Zoanne tsked him and then went off herself, leaving Ianto and Kethan alone with the Captain.
“Do you need your own room?” she asked, turning to Ianto. “We’re full up with Kethan, but we can rearrange if necessary.”
“He’s with me, Opal,” Kethan said, firmly. “Don’t worry about it.”
She nodded. “Ellis and Aharon are refueling, and picking up a few spare parts. Don’t ask me where Kareh is, you’ll probably have to hit the mainframe and dig him out from under the wires. Soren’s on the bridge, ready to boot us if they decide they’d rather we stick around. Take a few minutes to settle in and meet me on the bridge when you’re ready to talk strategy.”
When she finished, Ianto had the strong impression that she was dismissing them, like Jack sometimes did without actually needing to say the words. Kethan, for one, seemed to pick this up as well and Ianto followed him out of the mess.
~
Ianto and Kethan stowed their packs in a small room in the passenger section of the Evening Star, then went to the cargo bay, where Ianto met Ellis - the ships mechanic - and Aharon, whose job went unidentified. The four of them unloaded the supplies Ellis had picked up from the station. As they were finishing, Ashild came in, sealing the hatch behind her. Kethan dragged Ianto up to the bridge to “say goodbye to Trell, your first alien planet”. When they had left the spaceport and Trell behind, Kethan apologetically urged him off the bridge.
“Things to discuss with the crew,” he said, patting Ianto on the shoulder. “Make yourself comfortable in the mess, I’ll be down in a bit.”
Resigned to being left in the dark for a little longer, Ianto left Kethan, Varelle, Brenneth and Aharon on the bridge and wandered back to their room, grabbing his computer before heading down to the mess. Jotir, the alien, was cleaning the counter, but he took one look at Ianto, tossed the cloth into the sink and disappeared. Clearly, Jotir was not comfortable around strangers. Ianto found himself a glass of water and sat down at the table to read.
Twenty minutes later, Aharon came in. He nodded at Ianto, and went to the kitchen. When he was done there, he sat down across from Ianto and handed him a cup of coffee.
“Thanks,” Ianto said, gratefully. He’d been wanting caffeine since the trip up, but the fifty-first century appliances in the ship had given him a headache just looking at them, so he’d settled for water.
“You’re welcome,” Aharon replied. “So, Kethan says you’re from the twenty-first century.”
“Yep,” Ianto said, nodding. “Know much about it?”
“Not much,” he said, “Do you miss it?”
“Of course,” Ianto said, shrugging. “Not that this time isn’t fascinating, but it isn’t-”
“Home?” he interrupted.
“Exactly.”
Aharon sat back in his chair, wrapping his hands around his own cup, watching Ianto over the edge of it. “So you’re not a time agent.”
“Um,” said Ianto, confused. “No? I time traveled by accident.”
He took a sip of his coffee. “What if I could get you home?”
Ianto’s heart leapt. Home. Kethan had told him that he was sorry, but he couldn’t use his vortex manipulator. Too likely to be tracked, too likely that any additional information would give away his position entirely. “What do you mean?” he asked cautiously. “You aren’t a time agent.”
“No,” he said, putting his mug down and leaning forward. He lowered his voice, “But I might be able to get you a deal with them.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Do you know what Kethan’s doing? Has he told you?”
Ianto blinked at the non-sequitur. “Not really, no.”
“Then you’ll have to trust me when I say what he’s doing is very, very dangerous.”
A bad feeling was settling in the pit of Ianto’s stomach.
“I’m sorry,” he said, reverting to politeness. “I don’t follow.”
“I think you do,” he said. “Ianto, he needs to be stopped. He’s found out some things he really shouldn’t know, and if the Time Agency doesn’t get hold of him soon, he’s going to do some serious damage.”
This was not good, Ianto thought. He needed to get Kethan, now. He started to stand up, but Aharon put a hand on his forearm to stop him.
“No, hear me out, first. We’re on a ship in space, I’m not exactly going anywhere. Besides,” he said, a dark grin on his face, “do you really think he’d believe you?”
“You work for the Time Agency,” Ianto said flatly. How did Kethan not know this? From what he had learned, Kethan had flown with this crew over a dozen times in the past couple of decades, and Aharon had been a member of it for years.
He shrugged. “Freelance, occasionally. Let’s just say they’ve convinced me that Kethan needs to be stopped. In exchange, I have access to some of their tech. Kethan won’t send you home, will he? Says it’s too dangerous for him. He’s screwing you, Ianto.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Ianto challenged. Aharon had to realize this was stupid; what was preventing Ianto from turning him over to Kethan?
“Because you’re an honest person,” he said, smiling briefly. “I’m not a mercenary, Ianto. You have to believe me when I say Kethan is not a good person.”
You don’t want to know the kind of things I did, Ianto.
“Besides,” Aharon continued, as if reading Ianto’s mind, “he wouldn’t believe you if you told him. You may be in his bed now, Ianto Jones, but I’ve known him for ten years. Intimately. Why would he believe you over me?’
“He trusts me,” Ianto replied, for a moment feeling like he had with Owen. Part time shag.
“No. You’re a pretty boy, and he likes pretty boys, in case you haven’t noticed. He likes me just fine too. Whose bed do you think he sleeps in when he’s on board?” Aharon smirked. “What do you know about Kethan? Has he told you anything about himself?”
Ianto hated to admit it, but Aharon had a point. Kethan didn’t even trust him with his real name, he was hardly going to believe Ianto if he started accusing his friends of turning on him.
“What would you have me do?” Ianto asked, cautiously. He needed to know more.
“I need him disarmed. I can’t take him if he’s carrying that blaster of his; he’s too fast. But he wouldn’t suspect you, Ianto. You could take it from him, given the right opportunity.”
“And then you’d, what, shoot him?”
“No,” he shook his head. “I need to take him to headquarters. He won’t be harmed. We’ll remove his memories of the last year or so, back to when he first got hold of the classified information.”
Ianto started at that. Remove his memories? Was this why Jack hadn’t known about him in the twenty-first century? Maybe this was what had happened. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, playing over the options in his head.
“Is that all I need to do?” he asked, eventually. “Disarm him?”
“That’s all. Back me up a little, but I’ll restrain him. After that, I’ll send you home,” he held up his arm; on it was a thick band that looked somewhat like Kethan’s. “And then Kethan and I will be on our merry way. No harm done to anyone.”
Ianto nodded, slowly. “Alright. I’ll do it,” he said, wishing he could think of a better way to do this. But Aharon was likely to go ahead with or without Ianto’s help, and if he were there…
“Great” Aharon said, smiling. “I’ll set it up, okay? Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, nothing will go wrong.”
He picked up his mug and stood, dropping it off at the kitchen before leaving the room. The longest five minutes of Ianto’s life passed before Aharon, Kethan, and Varelle came back into the room, chatting away. Kethan saw Ianto and came over, dropping into the chair across from him. Varelle sat next to Ianto, and Aharon across from her.
They were discussing laser weapons, and Kethan was bragging about the X50 he’d picked up on Trell.
“It’s gorgeous,” he said, pulling it out of its holster and displaying it in his hand. “Thirty meters of penetrating power, would you believe?”
“I don’t know,” Varelle replied, looking skeptical. “I liked the old M12. Maybe not thirty meters, but you could burn through a Habbai with it at ten.”
Aharon looked over at Ianto, a little apologetic. “We’re leaving the poor boy out of the conversation, Kethan. What kind of a friend are you? Have you even let Ianto hold your toys yet?”
“Which ones?” Kethan asked, grinning. Aharon just rolled his eyes. “No,” admitted Kethan. “We haven’t really had a whole lot of time to go over fifty-first century weaponry yet.” He looked down at the X50, then turned it around so that the handle was pointing at Ianto.
“Want to try?”
Ianto hesitated.
“I don’t want to shoot anyone by accident,” he said, not daring to look at Aharon. “What if I press the wrong button?”
“Just don’t press this,” Kethan said, pointing to the trigger in an exaggerated manner, “and we all should survive it.”
Ianto reached out and took the gun. He glanced down at it in his hand for a second, then across the table at Aharon, who didn’t wait a second to pull out his own blaster and aim it at Kethan.
“Don’t anybody move.”
“What the fuck, Aharon?” Kethan cried, holding his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender.
Aharon ignored him. “Ianto, disarm the Captain, if you please. Don’t even think about it, Opal, or Kethan gets a hole in his head.”
“No,” replied Ianto, instead lifting the X50 and training it on Aharon.
“Not a good idea,” Aharon said, eyes narrowing. “I can’t get you home if you shoot me.” When Ianto didn’t waver, Aharon swung his blaster around and aimed it at Ianto. “I’d rather not shoot you,” he said, failing to sound completely sincere. “But I will if you don’t get out of my way.”
”Aharon-” started Kethan.
“Drop it,” Aharon interrupted. “On the floor, or I shoot you and take Kethan despite your heroics. And this ain’t no stun-gun, sweet cheeks.”
“I will shoot,” Ianto replied. “Do you think I won’t?”
“No,” replied Aharon with a sneer. “I think you’re a coward. I think you’re bluffing”
Clearly, Aharon had never had a heart-to-heart with Owen. Ianto didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. Shit.
Time seemed to stop, everyone frozen in place, and for a long moment, Ianto thought this was the feeling of time slowing down right before he died. It was only when Aharon lowered his blaster that he realized he hadn’t fired at all.
“This ain’t no stun-gun, sweet cheeks?” Kethan drawled. “What kind of movies have you been watching?”
“Ones with you in them, apparently,” Aharon shot back, holstering his weapon. “You can put that down now.”
“Wha-?” Ianto gasped, his senses suddenly tuned up high enough that he could feel his blood rushing through his body.
Kethan reached out and plucked the blaster out of Ianto’s hand.
“You pass,” he said, grinning. “With flying colours.”
Ianto sagged, tension leaving his body all at once. “That was a test?” he whispered. He tried again, louder. “That was a test?”
“Bingo,” said Varelle, getting up from her chair. She hadn’t moved the whole time, Ianto realized.
“I could have shot him,” he breathed, feeling a little hysterical.
Kethan held up his blaster. “Disarmed.”
“Why?” was all Ianto could manage.
“Had to be sure,” Kethan said, not looking the least bit apologetic. “Your story was good, but it didn’t mean you wouldn’t betray me, when it came down to it.”
Loyalty. Ianto thought numbly. Kethan was testing his fucking loyalty.
“Fuck you, Jack Harkness,” he snapped suddenly, his hands starting to shake. “Fuck you, Kethan Brisho, or whomever the fuck you are. Just- ” He turned and walked out of the room, and didn’t stop until he reached the cargo bay, where his legs gave out under him and he sagged against the wall.
~
Ianto hadn’t been in the cargo bay for a minute when Kethan climbed through the hatch and came over to where he was leaning against the bulkhead.
“You okay?” he asked, sounding a little concerned.
Ianto considered. Adrenaline was pumping through him, but it wasn’t something he was unfamiliar with. The Cybermen, the cannibals, weevils, even Owen had all introduced him to that feeling before. Even so, the sensation of having just barely escaped death, even if it had all been an elaborate prank, was overwhelming.
“I thought I was dead,” he said in reply.
Kethan reached out to touch him on the shoulder. Ianto flinched, and then grabbed Kethan’s arm, spinning him around and shoving him up against the wall with his body.
“Don’t you ever,” Ianto spat, “Do something like that to me again. Clear?”
Kethan had the gall to look amused. “Doing it once was kind of the point,” he said mildly. “It’s not exactly something that would work again.”
They stood there, Ianto glowering at Kethan and Kethan calmly matching his gaze until Kethan shifted under Ianto’s grasp. His chest rubbed along Ianto’s and he tried to bring his free arm up, but Ianto grabbed it and pressed it to the wall, adrenaline overwhelming him. He slammed his mouth against Kethan’s in a violent kiss.
Kethan made a small noise of surprise but returned the kiss with vigour, arching up against Ianto. Kethan was hard, Ianto realized, and so was he, probably from the adrenaline rush. Ianto dropped his grip on Kethan’s arms and reached down, scrabbling against the edge of his t-shirt for a moment before he caught it and yanked it over Kethan’s head. Kethan raised his arms obligingly, then dropped his hands to his trousers, undoing them as Ianto pulled off his own shirt.
“You-” Kethan started to say, but Ianto slapped a hand over his mouth, his other hand reaching down to scratch across Kethan’s stomach. Kethan let out a muffled sound and started on Ianto’s belt, fingers scrabbling over Ianto’s fly and then reaching into his pants. Ianto let out a groan, and Kethan started to drop to his knees, but Ianto shook his head and pushed at his shoulders, telegraphing what he wanted.
“Back pocket,” Kethan gasped, pulling Ianto in and grinding them together through the thin material of their shorts. Ianto reached back and found what he needed, taking it out and shoving Kethan’s trousers and pants down his hips before turning him around. His hands shook as he opened the packet of lube and slicked up his cock. Kethan leaned forward in front of him, resting his forehead against the bulkhead and spreading his legs as much as his tangled trousers would allow.
Ianto stepped forward and lined up, running a hand along Kethan’s thigh before gripping his hip. He hesitated for a moment, and Kethan turned his head, putting his cheek against the wall.
“Do it,” he said roughly, pressing back against Ianto. Ianto took a moment to breathe, running his free hand down the bumps of Kethan’s spine before coming to rest on Kethan’s other hip, and then he pushed in.
“Fuck,” he said, exhaling sharply. “I’m not going to last.”
Kethan’s laugh was nearly as hysterical as Ianto felt. “You and me both.”
Ianto snapped his hips forward without warning, and Kethan let out a sharp breath. He adjusted his angle and pushed in again, this time getting a moan. He set up a relentless pace, swimming in sensation as he felt Kethan shudder under him, bracing himself better with one hand and bringing the other down to jerk himself off.
“Shit, Ianto,” was all Kethan managed before his orgasm shook through him, Ianto following a few moments after, gripping Kethan’s hips hard enough to bruise. He leaned over Kethan, mouthing at his shoulder blades and wrapping his arms up against his chest.
“Urg,” he moaned, panting hard against Kethan’s back.
“Yeah,” said Kethan, breathlessly.
Ianto took a moment to collect himself, then moved away, pulling his trousers back up and sinking down against the wall. Kethan followed suit, coming round to Ianto’s other side to avoid the mess on the wall. He’d have to clean that up, Ianto thought.
“Remind me to threaten your life more often,” Kethan said, putting a hand on Ianto’s knee. “That was one hell of an adrenaline rush.”
Ianto let his head fall back with a thud. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Kethan snorted. “No. Well, not in a bad way.”
“Good,” he said, vaguely. “I’m going to go to sleep now, if that’s alright.” The exhaustion from the day, no longer overwhelmed by adrenaline, seeped through him.
Kethan barked a laugh. “Take your time.” He dropped his head against Ianto’s shoulder, shifting a little. “You know, for a twenty-first century man, you certainly get off on an audience.”
Ianto’s head snapped up. “We had an audience?”
“Uh,” said Kethan, waving his hand up at the second level. “You didn’t notice when you came in?”
Ianto looked up at the balcony. Two of the crew waved back down at him.
“Ahhh,” Ianto groaned, covering his face with his hands. Of all the first impressions he’d made in his life, this was definitely the most interesting. Weevil hunting came a far, far second to this.
“Oops,” said Kethan, cheerfully. “Well, now they’re probably all the more eager to get to know you.”
Ianto just buried his face in his arms.
~
A/N: I'm slowly getting used to writing sex scenes. I'm of half a mind to write a one-off, hardcore PWP just to get over myself. But should it be Ianto and Jack, in canon, or Ianto and Kethan? Or maybe you all think I should just WRITE MORE AMoT? Like, now?
Read Chapter 8.
Summary: In which Ianto doesn't have a good time.
Thanks to my betas, bacchae777 and particular thanks for this chapter to thaddeusfavour, without whom things would Make No Sense.
Previous chapters here.
~
“Good,” said Kethan. “I am too, but we’re going to have to change the plans. You can’t land; we might never get off the surface. Dock at the station instead, I’ll meet you there. Don’t even cool the engines, alright?”
“Trouble?”
“Of a sort. We need to boot it from here, quickly.”
~
The shuttle back up to the space station hadn’t been much more pleasant than the trip down, and Ianto felt dazed as he followed Kethan through the wide corridors. The station was very crowded, and Kethan had grabbed Ianto’s hand when they’d exited the shuttle, pulling him along almost at a run.
“Are we in a hurry?” Ianto called, a little annoyed at being tugged around like a small child. “I can follow you on my own, you know.”
“And get kidnapped by someone trying to get to me?” replied Kethan. “No thanks.”
“Do you think there’ll be more time agents waiting for us?” he asked as Kethan pulled him into a lift. Twice as many people as Ianto thought possible followed them into the small area, pushing Kethan and Ianto to the back.
“If you shout that loud enough, probably,” Kethan hissed.
“I’m sure they’re eavesdropping in the lift.” Kethan was more paranoid than Jack, apparently.
“No, but possibly on the security camera,” Kethan whispered, jerking his chin up towards the ceiling. “If the Agency has found out Uno’s dead, they’ll certainly send someone else.”
“Couldn’t they have just, I don’t know, appeared wherever you were? Why did Uno have to look for you on the planet’s surface, anyway?”
“You can’t track a manipulator jump to that degree of accuracy. They probably knew I was en route for Trell when it happened, but not which ship I was on.”
“Couldn’t they hack the passenger logs?”
“Yes, because when I’m running from the Time Agency, I always use my real name to book transportation,” said Kethan, rolling his eyes as they exited the lift.
Ianto looked at him in surprise. “Kethan Brisho isn’t your real name?” he asked, hoping he didn’t sound as dismayed as he felt.
Kethan shook his head.
Well. Just when he thought he was finally learning something about Jack. “So all this time I’ve been calling you Kethan, it hasn’t been your real name?”
“Well, actually,” he started, looking around, “Kethan is my birth name, Brisho isn’t. I was registered under K. Brisho. Kethan’s common enough I didn’t mind using it casually.”
“What’s your real last name?” Ianto asked, hoping he might finally get a straight answer.
“Can’t say,” he replied. “Not here. Too many ears.”
“On the ship, then?”
Kethan gave him a look. “Why so curious? It’s just a name.”
“It’s a lot,” Ianto said, shortly, removing his hand from Kethan’s grasp. “Is this space station bigger on the inside, or are we going to reach our destination any time soon?”
“Patience, young one,” Kethan intoned, but then lifted his arm and waved. “Brenneth!”
Ianto looked ahead. A man was standing by an airlock, grinning broadly and waving back. When they reached him, he leaned down and kissed Kethan firmly, and then pulled him into a hug.
“So, where are the spies you’ve picked up? Do I need to get you out of certain death again?”
“I definitely saved your life, last time.”
“Not in my timeline!” Brenneth laughed. “You were younger than I’d seen you before, twenty-six?”
“Are we talking about the time on Enni?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“Right, I remember,” Kethan said. “By my count, though, I last saw you at the carnival.”
“That was seven years ago.”
“And I’m still waiting for that drink,” Kethan shot back.
“Then get your arse inside,” Brenneth replied, slapping the behind in question and waving them through the airlock. “I’m sure Jotir has something good in the kitchen.”
Brenneth smiled at Ianto and followed him and Kethan in through the airlock. “You must be Ianto.”
“Yes sir,” Ianto replied. “Are you the captain of this ship?”
“No, I’m the second. You needn’t call me sir, in either case, Brenneth will do fine.”
Ianto nodded. It was habit, after Torchwood One, and he’d kept it up with Jack despite Three’s comparative informality. At the time, it had been a deliberate attempt to distance himself from the man. Now when he used it, it was a small - futile - attempt to maintain a professional relationship with Jack outside of the bedroom. Or hothouse.
They made their way through a short passageway and came into a large room, packed with crates and containers. They passed through the main floor and out a hatch at the far end, coming out into a room that seemed to be a kitchen, dining room, and living room all at once. Two human women and an alien, sex unidentifiable, occupied the table in the middle of the room, but they all stood up when Kethan, Ianto and Brenneth came in. The women came up to them, but the alien, a pale, wispy thing, took off out the exit at the back of the room.
Ianto watched, hanging back, as hugs and kisses were exchanged between Kethan and the women, observing them as they exchanged greetings. They were both older than Kethan, in their fifties likely, attractive in the way older women who are confident and fit are, though in very different ways. One was tall and broad and could probably take Brenneth - who towered, even over Kethan - and the other was wiry and perhaps the same height as Gwen. She seemed to be doing most of the talking, while the first woman was content to sit back and listen.
Kethan, beckoned Ianto over, interrupting his observations.
“This must be the mysterious Ianto Jones you wrote to us about,” said the short woman, looking him over with a clinical eye. “You really think he’s up for it?”
Ianto bristled, but Kethan just laughed and the taller woman shook her head.
“Don’t mind Zoanne,” she said, her voice low and calm. “Her bark is worse than her bite.”
“But don’t get sick,” Kethan cautioned. “Then her bite is far, far worse. She’s the ship’s medic,” he added at Ianto’s curious look.
“Doctor, thank you. I didn’t train for six years to be a field medic.”
“And this,” Kethan continued over Zoanne, “is Opal Varelle. She’s the Captain of this spacewreck.”
The Captain was, apparently, used to Kethan and didn’t rise to the bait; instead, she reached out and shook Ianto’s hand. “Good to have you on board, Ianto Jones. Many hands make light work. Can I ask what you specialize in, for distribution of labour purposes?”
Ianto hesitated.
“Ah, yes,” said Kethan. “I forgot I hadn’t told you yet. Ianto is a bit of a guest now.”
Captain Varelle raised an eyebrow. “This isn’t a cruise ship, Kethan.”
“No,” interrupted Kethan. “I didn’t mean a guest here, I meant a guest now. As in, in time. He’s twenty-first century.” He grinned at Ianto. “Followed me home, mum, can I keep him?”
Varelle frowned. “Not familiar with our tech, then, I suppose,” she mused, looking as though she received time travelers on her ship every day. “That rules out a lot, but we can have you doing the busy work.”
“I worked with the mainframe, and the archives, back home,” Ianto offered. “And made the coffee.”
“Excellent,” said Zoanne, briskly. “Kareh can show you around our computer, maybe you’ll be a fast learner, and Jotir will introduce you to the kitchen. Lord knows I could use your help in the infirmary, the last three shipments are still lying everywhere, I’ve gotten behind.”
“Zoanne,” said Kethan, looking amused. “I’ve seen the infirmary across twenty-five years, and you always have the last three shipments to put away.
“It was sparkling in 5044,” she said, looking smug.
“You’d been raided. They took all the medical supplies.”
Zoanne reached around and slapped his bottom. “Just checking. I wasn’t sure you’d been there yet.”
“How old are you?” the Captain asked quietly. Ianto got the feeling that she was not the kind of woman to make a scene, even in the case of an apocalypse.
“Twenty eight. First time I’m not back in time, actually.”
Captain Varelle had a pensive look on her face, which Kethan noticed. “What are you thinking?”
“Just that this is the oldest we’ve seen you,” she said. “So either you’ve caught up with yourself or-”
“Or I die a terrible death in short order. Good to know,” Kethan shoved his hands in his pockets. “Where’d Jotir disappear to?” That must have been the alien who’d left when they came in,
“Away from you, I’m sure.”
“He likes me!” Kethan said, sounding affronted.
“You keep telling yourself that,” replied Zoanne. “Never mind him, Ashild will be more than-”
She was interrupted by a sudden screech, and Ianto was almost knocked over as someone barreled past him into Kethan. The blur resolved into a woman, who successively hugged, kissed on both cheeks, and punched Kethan.
“How old?” she demanded.
“Twenty-eight,” Kethan said, smirking.
“Shit!” she said. “It’s never going to happen, then, is it?”
“I couldn’t let you have that sort of an advantage over me,” Kethan said solemnly, but then broke into a real smile. “It’s great to see you, kiddo.”
“You too. Say goodbye this time and I might even see you again.”
“It was an-”
She waved him off. “I need to do a last minute supply run, want to come?”
Kethan shook his head. “Can’t. Work to do. Important people to see.” She glared at him, and he softened. “Honestly, I can’t risk being out in the open any longer. You’ll have to take someone else.”
She shrugged at him and then turned to Ianto.
“Well then, how about you?” she said, in a pitch perfect Jack-getting-to-know-you voice. “I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.”
Ianto couldn’t help blushing. She was very attractive, curvy in all the right places, with a wide mouth that twitched suggestively.
“This is Ianto,” said Kethan. “Leave him alone, Ashild.”
“Whatever for?” she asked, looking puzzled.
“He’s a one man kind of boy,” he said, holding up a hand when she started to talk. “No, don’t ask, I’ll explain the social mores of past centuries to you later. Go get your supplies and we’ll get smashed together later, alright?”
Ashild conceded, and went off to gather other members of the crew.
“Who’s she?” Ianto asked after she left the room.
“My daughter,” said Varelle, who’d been watching the exchange with amusement. “And Zoanne’s.”
“Don’t let her hear you introducing her that way,” Kethan warned. “She’s security, if you ask her.”
“She’s twenty-four,” grumbled Zoanne. “And stupid.”
“No,” said Kethan, grinning. “She’s just headstrong. Like a couple of other women I could mention.”
Zoanne tsked him and then went off herself, leaving Ianto and Kethan alone with the Captain.
“Do you need your own room?” she asked, turning to Ianto. “We’re full up with Kethan, but we can rearrange if necessary.”
“He’s with me, Opal,” Kethan said, firmly. “Don’t worry about it.”
She nodded. “Ellis and Aharon are refueling, and picking up a few spare parts. Don’t ask me where Kareh is, you’ll probably have to hit the mainframe and dig him out from under the wires. Soren’s on the bridge, ready to boot us if they decide they’d rather we stick around. Take a few minutes to settle in and meet me on the bridge when you’re ready to talk strategy.”
When she finished, Ianto had the strong impression that she was dismissing them, like Jack sometimes did without actually needing to say the words. Kethan, for one, seemed to pick this up as well and Ianto followed him out of the mess.
~
Ianto and Kethan stowed their packs in a small room in the passenger section of the Evening Star, then went to the cargo bay, where Ianto met Ellis - the ships mechanic - and Aharon, whose job went unidentified. The four of them unloaded the supplies Ellis had picked up from the station. As they were finishing, Ashild came in, sealing the hatch behind her. Kethan dragged Ianto up to the bridge to “say goodbye to Trell, your first alien planet”. When they had left the spaceport and Trell behind, Kethan apologetically urged him off the bridge.
“Things to discuss with the crew,” he said, patting Ianto on the shoulder. “Make yourself comfortable in the mess, I’ll be down in a bit.”
Resigned to being left in the dark for a little longer, Ianto left Kethan, Varelle, Brenneth and Aharon on the bridge and wandered back to their room, grabbing his computer before heading down to the mess. Jotir, the alien, was cleaning the counter, but he took one look at Ianto, tossed the cloth into the sink and disappeared. Clearly, Jotir was not comfortable around strangers. Ianto found himself a glass of water and sat down at the table to read.
Twenty minutes later, Aharon came in. He nodded at Ianto, and went to the kitchen. When he was done there, he sat down across from Ianto and handed him a cup of coffee.
“Thanks,” Ianto said, gratefully. He’d been wanting caffeine since the trip up, but the fifty-first century appliances in the ship had given him a headache just looking at them, so he’d settled for water.
“You’re welcome,” Aharon replied. “So, Kethan says you’re from the twenty-first century.”
“Yep,” Ianto said, nodding. “Know much about it?”
“Not much,” he said, “Do you miss it?”
“Of course,” Ianto said, shrugging. “Not that this time isn’t fascinating, but it isn’t-”
“Home?” he interrupted.
“Exactly.”
Aharon sat back in his chair, wrapping his hands around his own cup, watching Ianto over the edge of it. “So you’re not a time agent.”
“Um,” said Ianto, confused. “No? I time traveled by accident.”
He took a sip of his coffee. “What if I could get you home?”
Ianto’s heart leapt. Home. Kethan had told him that he was sorry, but he couldn’t use his vortex manipulator. Too likely to be tracked, too likely that any additional information would give away his position entirely. “What do you mean?” he asked cautiously. “You aren’t a time agent.”
“No,” he said, putting his mug down and leaning forward. He lowered his voice, “But I might be able to get you a deal with them.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Do you know what Kethan’s doing? Has he told you?”
Ianto blinked at the non-sequitur. “Not really, no.”
“Then you’ll have to trust me when I say what he’s doing is very, very dangerous.”
A bad feeling was settling in the pit of Ianto’s stomach.
“I’m sorry,” he said, reverting to politeness. “I don’t follow.”
“I think you do,” he said. “Ianto, he needs to be stopped. He’s found out some things he really shouldn’t know, and if the Time Agency doesn’t get hold of him soon, he’s going to do some serious damage.”
This was not good, Ianto thought. He needed to get Kethan, now. He started to stand up, but Aharon put a hand on his forearm to stop him.
“No, hear me out, first. We’re on a ship in space, I’m not exactly going anywhere. Besides,” he said, a dark grin on his face, “do you really think he’d believe you?”
“You work for the Time Agency,” Ianto said flatly. How did Kethan not know this? From what he had learned, Kethan had flown with this crew over a dozen times in the past couple of decades, and Aharon had been a member of it for years.
He shrugged. “Freelance, occasionally. Let’s just say they’ve convinced me that Kethan needs to be stopped. In exchange, I have access to some of their tech. Kethan won’t send you home, will he? Says it’s too dangerous for him. He’s screwing you, Ianto.”
“Why are you telling me this?” Ianto challenged. Aharon had to realize this was stupid; what was preventing Ianto from turning him over to Kethan?
“Because you’re an honest person,” he said, smiling briefly. “I’m not a mercenary, Ianto. You have to believe me when I say Kethan is not a good person.”
You don’t want to know the kind of things I did, Ianto.
“Besides,” Aharon continued, as if reading Ianto’s mind, “he wouldn’t believe you if you told him. You may be in his bed now, Ianto Jones, but I’ve known him for ten years. Intimately. Why would he believe you over me?’
“He trusts me,” Ianto replied, for a moment feeling like he had with Owen. Part time shag.
“No. You’re a pretty boy, and he likes pretty boys, in case you haven’t noticed. He likes me just fine too. Whose bed do you think he sleeps in when he’s on board?” Aharon smirked. “What do you know about Kethan? Has he told you anything about himself?”
Ianto hated to admit it, but Aharon had a point. Kethan didn’t even trust him with his real name, he was hardly going to believe Ianto if he started accusing his friends of turning on him.
“What would you have me do?” Ianto asked, cautiously. He needed to know more.
“I need him disarmed. I can’t take him if he’s carrying that blaster of his; he’s too fast. But he wouldn’t suspect you, Ianto. You could take it from him, given the right opportunity.”
“And then you’d, what, shoot him?”
“No,” he shook his head. “I need to take him to headquarters. He won’t be harmed. We’ll remove his memories of the last year or so, back to when he first got hold of the classified information.”
Ianto started at that. Remove his memories? Was this why Jack hadn’t known about him in the twenty-first century? Maybe this was what had happened. He didn’t say anything for a long moment, playing over the options in his head.
“Is that all I need to do?” he asked, eventually. “Disarm him?”
“That’s all. Back me up a little, but I’ll restrain him. After that, I’ll send you home,” he held up his arm; on it was a thick band that looked somewhat like Kethan’s. “And then Kethan and I will be on our merry way. No harm done to anyone.”
Ianto nodded, slowly. “Alright. I’ll do it,” he said, wishing he could think of a better way to do this. But Aharon was likely to go ahead with or without Ianto’s help, and if he were there…
“Great” Aharon said, smiling. “I’ll set it up, okay? Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, nothing will go wrong.”
He picked up his mug and stood, dropping it off at the kitchen before leaving the room. The longest five minutes of Ianto’s life passed before Aharon, Kethan, and Varelle came back into the room, chatting away. Kethan saw Ianto and came over, dropping into the chair across from him. Varelle sat next to Ianto, and Aharon across from her.
They were discussing laser weapons, and Kethan was bragging about the X50 he’d picked up on Trell.
“It’s gorgeous,” he said, pulling it out of its holster and displaying it in his hand. “Thirty meters of penetrating power, would you believe?”
“I don’t know,” Varelle replied, looking skeptical. “I liked the old M12. Maybe not thirty meters, but you could burn through a Habbai with it at ten.”
Aharon looked over at Ianto, a little apologetic. “We’re leaving the poor boy out of the conversation, Kethan. What kind of a friend are you? Have you even let Ianto hold your toys yet?”
“Which ones?” Kethan asked, grinning. Aharon just rolled his eyes. “No,” admitted Kethan. “We haven’t really had a whole lot of time to go over fifty-first century weaponry yet.” He looked down at the X50, then turned it around so that the handle was pointing at Ianto.
“Want to try?”
Ianto hesitated.
“I don’t want to shoot anyone by accident,” he said, not daring to look at Aharon. “What if I press the wrong button?”
“Just don’t press this,” Kethan said, pointing to the trigger in an exaggerated manner, “and we all should survive it.”
Ianto reached out and took the gun. He glanced down at it in his hand for a second, then across the table at Aharon, who didn’t wait a second to pull out his own blaster and aim it at Kethan.
“Don’t anybody move.”
“What the fuck, Aharon?” Kethan cried, holding his hands up in the universal gesture of surrender.
Aharon ignored him. “Ianto, disarm the Captain, if you please. Don’t even think about it, Opal, or Kethan gets a hole in his head.”
“No,” replied Ianto, instead lifting the X50 and training it on Aharon.
“Not a good idea,” Aharon said, eyes narrowing. “I can’t get you home if you shoot me.” When Ianto didn’t waver, Aharon swung his blaster around and aimed it at Ianto. “I’d rather not shoot you,” he said, failing to sound completely sincere. “But I will if you don’t get out of my way.”
”Aharon-” started Kethan.
“Drop it,” Aharon interrupted. “On the floor, or I shoot you and take Kethan despite your heroics. And this ain’t no stun-gun, sweet cheeks.”
“I will shoot,” Ianto replied. “Do you think I won’t?”
“No,” replied Aharon with a sneer. “I think you’re a coward. I think you’re bluffing”
Clearly, Aharon had never had a heart-to-heart with Owen. Ianto didn’t hesitate. He pulled the trigger.
Nothing happened. Shit.
Time seemed to stop, everyone frozen in place, and for a long moment, Ianto thought this was the feeling of time slowing down right before he died. It was only when Aharon lowered his blaster that he realized he hadn’t fired at all.
“This ain’t no stun-gun, sweet cheeks?” Kethan drawled. “What kind of movies have you been watching?”
“Ones with you in them, apparently,” Aharon shot back, holstering his weapon. “You can put that down now.”
“Wha-?” Ianto gasped, his senses suddenly tuned up high enough that he could feel his blood rushing through his body.
Kethan reached out and plucked the blaster out of Ianto’s hand.
“You pass,” he said, grinning. “With flying colours.”
Ianto sagged, tension leaving his body all at once. “That was a test?” he whispered. He tried again, louder. “That was a test?”
“Bingo,” said Varelle, getting up from her chair. She hadn’t moved the whole time, Ianto realized.
“I could have shot him,” he breathed, feeling a little hysterical.
Kethan held up his blaster. “Disarmed.”
“Why?” was all Ianto could manage.
“Had to be sure,” Kethan said, not looking the least bit apologetic. “Your story was good, but it didn’t mean you wouldn’t betray me, when it came down to it.”
Loyalty. Ianto thought numbly. Kethan was testing his fucking loyalty.
“Fuck you, Jack Harkness,” he snapped suddenly, his hands starting to shake. “Fuck you, Kethan Brisho, or whomever the fuck you are. Just- ” He turned and walked out of the room, and didn’t stop until he reached the cargo bay, where his legs gave out under him and he sagged against the wall.
~
Ianto hadn’t been in the cargo bay for a minute when Kethan climbed through the hatch and came over to where he was leaning against the bulkhead.
“You okay?” he asked, sounding a little concerned.
Ianto considered. Adrenaline was pumping through him, but it wasn’t something he was unfamiliar with. The Cybermen, the cannibals, weevils, even Owen had all introduced him to that feeling before. Even so, the sensation of having just barely escaped death, even if it had all been an elaborate prank, was overwhelming.
“I thought I was dead,” he said in reply.
Kethan reached out to touch him on the shoulder. Ianto flinched, and then grabbed Kethan’s arm, spinning him around and shoving him up against the wall with his body.
“Don’t you ever,” Ianto spat, “Do something like that to me again. Clear?”
Kethan had the gall to look amused. “Doing it once was kind of the point,” he said mildly. “It’s not exactly something that would work again.”
They stood there, Ianto glowering at Kethan and Kethan calmly matching his gaze until Kethan shifted under Ianto’s grasp. His chest rubbed along Ianto’s and he tried to bring his free arm up, but Ianto grabbed it and pressed it to the wall, adrenaline overwhelming him. He slammed his mouth against Kethan’s in a violent kiss.
Kethan made a small noise of surprise but returned the kiss with vigour, arching up against Ianto. Kethan was hard, Ianto realized, and so was he, probably from the adrenaline rush. Ianto dropped his grip on Kethan’s arms and reached down, scrabbling against the edge of his t-shirt for a moment before he caught it and yanked it over Kethan’s head. Kethan raised his arms obligingly, then dropped his hands to his trousers, undoing them as Ianto pulled off his own shirt.
“You-” Kethan started to say, but Ianto slapped a hand over his mouth, his other hand reaching down to scratch across Kethan’s stomach. Kethan let out a muffled sound and started on Ianto’s belt, fingers scrabbling over Ianto’s fly and then reaching into his pants. Ianto let out a groan, and Kethan started to drop to his knees, but Ianto shook his head and pushed at his shoulders, telegraphing what he wanted.
“Back pocket,” Kethan gasped, pulling Ianto in and grinding them together through the thin material of their shorts. Ianto reached back and found what he needed, taking it out and shoving Kethan’s trousers and pants down his hips before turning him around. His hands shook as he opened the packet of lube and slicked up his cock. Kethan leaned forward in front of him, resting his forehead against the bulkhead and spreading his legs as much as his tangled trousers would allow.
Ianto stepped forward and lined up, running a hand along Kethan’s thigh before gripping his hip. He hesitated for a moment, and Kethan turned his head, putting his cheek against the wall.
“Do it,” he said roughly, pressing back against Ianto. Ianto took a moment to breathe, running his free hand down the bumps of Kethan’s spine before coming to rest on Kethan’s other hip, and then he pushed in.
“Fuck,” he said, exhaling sharply. “I’m not going to last.”
Kethan’s laugh was nearly as hysterical as Ianto felt. “You and me both.”
Ianto snapped his hips forward without warning, and Kethan let out a sharp breath. He adjusted his angle and pushed in again, this time getting a moan. He set up a relentless pace, swimming in sensation as he felt Kethan shudder under him, bracing himself better with one hand and bringing the other down to jerk himself off.
“Shit, Ianto,” was all Kethan managed before his orgasm shook through him, Ianto following a few moments after, gripping Kethan’s hips hard enough to bruise. He leaned over Kethan, mouthing at his shoulder blades and wrapping his arms up against his chest.
“Urg,” he moaned, panting hard against Kethan’s back.
“Yeah,” said Kethan, breathlessly.
Ianto took a moment to collect himself, then moved away, pulling his trousers back up and sinking down against the wall. Kethan followed suit, coming round to Ianto’s other side to avoid the mess on the wall. He’d have to clean that up, Ianto thought.
“Remind me to threaten your life more often,” Kethan said, putting a hand on Ianto’s knee. “That was one hell of an adrenaline rush.”
Ianto let his head fall back with a thud. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
Kethan snorted. “No. Well, not in a bad way.”
“Good,” he said, vaguely. “I’m going to go to sleep now, if that’s alright.” The exhaustion from the day, no longer overwhelmed by adrenaline, seeped through him.
Kethan barked a laugh. “Take your time.” He dropped his head against Ianto’s shoulder, shifting a little. “You know, for a twenty-first century man, you certainly get off on an audience.”
Ianto’s head snapped up. “We had an audience?”
“Uh,” said Kethan, waving his hand up at the second level. “You didn’t notice when you came in?”
Ianto looked up at the balcony. Two of the crew waved back down at him.
“Ahhh,” Ianto groaned, covering his face with his hands. Of all the first impressions he’d made in his life, this was definitely the most interesting. Weevil hunting came a far, far second to this.
“Oops,” said Kethan, cheerfully. “Well, now they’re probably all the more eager to get to know you.”
Ianto just buried his face in his arms.
~
A/N: I'm slowly getting used to writing sex scenes. I'm of half a mind to write a one-off, hardcore PWP just to get over myself. But should it be Ianto and Jack, in canon, or Ianto and Kethan? Or maybe you all think I should just WRITE MORE AMoT? Like, now?
Read Chapter 8.