Who're You - Torchwood Fic
This is the first part of a fic I'm writing for the AU challenge on
tw_exchange. The prompt was to write a fic where Ianto has lost his memory, has bad scars and worse nightmares, is working as a male escort and Jack is his patron/best customer.
Unsurprisingly it's slash.
I wasn’t going to post this WIP, but I’m a little uncertain of the beginning so I thought I’d get everyone’s reaction. I don’t normally write explicit slash because a) I don’t like a GUS mucking up my story & b) I’m crap at them, it comes off sounding like a bawdy seaside postcard or bad Mills & Boon. But, I realised that there would probably be a major outcry if there wasn’t any sex in a story where Ianto is a prostitute. So, any and all comments gratefully taken as long as they’re constructive. :)
Rating R/X/18 for explicit same-sex sex and language: Definitely ADULTS ONLY!
Who’re you
Ianto lay on his back, allowing his customer to run her tongue up and down his body before he began his ministrations, shuddering slightly as she brushed the network of scarring that ran down his side. He leaned up and gently bit her shoulder, before kissing her neck, breasts, stomach, slowly and purposefully working his way south.
She was warm and salty, but his mind wasn’t really on the task at hand. He’d had the nightmares again that afternoon, terrible images of blood and death and metal. He thought it had something to do with that awful business at Canary Wharf, but he wasn’t sure.
Some of the other images were here in Cardiff, others still in the countryside of the Beacons. Besides, he was sure he’d never been to London. Well, as sure as you can be when you can’t remember the last five years.
He deftly flipped his client onto her back and entered her, working her gently towards climax. He wasn’t worried about coming first, his mind was too distracted.
God I’m good, he thought to himself, I don’t know what I’ve been doing these last few years, but it obviously involved a lot of sex.
He had been told that he had been in an accident, that he had been comatose for two years. What he had been doing before that, nobody seemed to know. Ianto thought it was strange that he didn’t seem to have any work colleagues or friends come to visit while he was in hospital.
Later that night, Ianto returned to his flat and waited for his…the word danna flashed into his head. Yes, the Geisha term probably best suited their relationship. It was certainly more than a prostitute/john relationship but much less than a romantic one.
Captain Jack Harkness seemed to have genuine feelings of concern and caring for Ianto, and, sometimes, Ianto thought he could see regret behind those sparkling eyes.
He poured two glasses of chardonnay and turned on the stereo, choosing some laid back but not overtly romantic tracks, before positioning himself in what he hoped was a ‘come hither’ fashion on the bed.
The clock turned to 8:00 and like clockwork Capt. Jack Harkness opened the front door of Ianto’s flat. He wore his usual outfit of a WWII RAF uniform, though tonight it was hot enough that he was only wearing a cotton t-shirt with the woollen trousers and greatcoat. He was also wearing a great big grin, as though he had just won the lottery.
He walked through the door and shut it in one fluid motion, stripping as he went, never losing his stride towards the bed, until by the time he reached Ianto he was down to his boxers. He lay down on top of Ianto and began kissing him fiercely, first on the neck and chest, then on the mouth. Ianto never normally allowed such intimacy with his clients, but Jack was different, special.
He responded to Jack by reaching inside his boxers and firmly but gently grasping Jack’s cock. Jack let out a gasp and smiled at Ianto.
“Your hand’s cold.”
“Sorry.” Ianto grinned in reply. “Let me warm you back up.” He began gently massaging Jack, his hand moving in time to the beat of the music. Jack waited until he was hard before he turned his attention to pleasuring Ianto.
He cupped Ianto’s arse with one hand and began gently but firmly kneading it. At the same time, his other hand worked the length of Ianto’s shaft, the two hands working in harmony, beating out a delicious rhythm on Ianto’s flesh. As they both came, Ianto moaned softly, before dropping back onto the pillow, panting.
“I thought I was supposed to pleasure you?” Ianto asked playfully when he had his breath back.
“You did lover. You did.” Jack said, his lascivious grin as wide as ever. They lay on the bed in each other’s arms, and Ianto closed his eyes. He felt safe and warm in Jack’s embrace, a feeling he didn’t get very often these days. After a while his breathing slowed, and Jack must have thought he was asleep, because Ianto heard him whisper, “I’m so sorry Ianto. I’m so, so sorry.”
Ianto just lay there, his mind racing. What did he mean? What did Jack have to apologise to him about? He wanted to ask him, but he was afraid Jack might be angry if he realised Ianto was awake, so he continued to lay there with his eyes closed until, eventually, they both fell asleep.
Concludes in Part Two
tw_exchange. The prompt was to write a fic where Ianto has lost his memory, has bad scars and worse nightmares, is working as a male escort and Jack is his patron/best customer.
Unsurprisingly it's slash.
I wasn’t going to post this WIP, but I’m a little uncertain of the beginning so I thought I’d get everyone’s reaction. I don’t normally write explicit slash because a) I don’t like a GUS mucking up my story & b) I’m crap at them, it comes off sounding like a bawdy seaside postcard or bad Mills & Boon. But, I realised that there would probably be a major outcry if there wasn’t any sex in a story where Ianto is a prostitute. So, any and all comments gratefully taken as long as they’re constructive. :)
Rating R/X/18 for explicit same-sex sex and language: Definitely ADULTS ONLY!
Who’re you
Ianto lay on his back, allowing his customer to run her tongue up and down his body before he began his ministrations, shuddering slightly as she brushed the network of scarring that ran down his side. He leaned up and gently bit her shoulder, before kissing her neck, breasts, stomach, slowly and purposefully working his way south.
She was warm and salty, but his mind wasn’t really on the task at hand. He’d had the nightmares again that afternoon, terrible images of blood and death and metal. He thought it had something to do with that awful business at Canary Wharf, but he wasn’t sure.
Some of the other images were here in Cardiff, others still in the countryside of the Beacons. Besides, he was sure he’d never been to London. Well, as sure as you can be when you can’t remember the last five years.
He deftly flipped his client onto her back and entered her, working her gently towards climax. He wasn’t worried about coming first, his mind was too distracted.
God I’m good, he thought to himself, I don’t know what I’ve been doing these last few years, but it obviously involved a lot of sex.
He had been told that he had been in an accident, that he had been comatose for two years. What he had been doing before that, nobody seemed to know. Ianto thought it was strange that he didn’t seem to have any work colleagues or friends come to visit while he was in hospital.
Later that night, Ianto returned to his flat and waited for his…the word danna flashed into his head. Yes, the Geisha term probably best suited their relationship. It was certainly more than a prostitute/john relationship but much less than a romantic one.
Captain Jack Harkness seemed to have genuine feelings of concern and caring for Ianto, and, sometimes, Ianto thought he could see regret behind those sparkling eyes.
He poured two glasses of chardonnay and turned on the stereo, choosing some laid back but not overtly romantic tracks, before positioning himself in what he hoped was a ‘come hither’ fashion on the bed.
The clock turned to 8:00 and like clockwork Capt. Jack Harkness opened the front door of Ianto’s flat. He wore his usual outfit of a WWII RAF uniform, though tonight it was hot enough that he was only wearing a cotton t-shirt with the woollen trousers and greatcoat. He was also wearing a great big grin, as though he had just won the lottery.
He walked through the door and shut it in one fluid motion, stripping as he went, never losing his stride towards the bed, until by the time he reached Ianto he was down to his boxers. He lay down on top of Ianto and began kissing him fiercely, first on the neck and chest, then on the mouth. Ianto never normally allowed such intimacy with his clients, but Jack was different, special.
He responded to Jack by reaching inside his boxers and firmly but gently grasping Jack’s cock. Jack let out a gasp and smiled at Ianto.
“Your hand’s cold.”
“Sorry.” Ianto grinned in reply. “Let me warm you back up.” He began gently massaging Jack, his hand moving in time to the beat of the music. Jack waited until he was hard before he turned his attention to pleasuring Ianto.
He cupped Ianto’s arse with one hand and began gently but firmly kneading it. At the same time, his other hand worked the length of Ianto’s shaft, the two hands working in harmony, beating out a delicious rhythm on Ianto’s flesh. As they both came, Ianto moaned softly, before dropping back onto the pillow, panting.
“I thought I was supposed to pleasure you?” Ianto asked playfully when he had his breath back.
“You did lover. You did.” Jack said, his lascivious grin as wide as ever. They lay on the bed in each other’s arms, and Ianto closed his eyes. He felt safe and warm in Jack’s embrace, a feeling he didn’t get very often these days. After a while his breathing slowed, and Jack must have thought he was asleep, because Ianto heard him whisper, “I’m so sorry Ianto. I’m so, so sorry.”
Ianto just lay there, his mind racing. What did he mean? What did Jack have to apologise to him about? He wanted to ask him, but he was afraid Jack might be angry if he realised Ianto was awake, so he continued to lay there with his eyes closed until, eventually, they both fell asleep.
Concludes in Part Two