Echoes Of The Night - Jack/Ianto Standalone
Title: Echoes Of The Night
Author: imagination55
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Part: 1/1 - Standalone
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The night progressed accordingly and now dawn is approaching.
Disclaimer: I own not a single thing associated with Torchwood. This is all just fiction from my little brain.
Spoilers: Fairly obvious one from To The Last Man (2x03); mentions of Cyberwoman (1x04), post-End Of Days (1x13) and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2x01) happenings. Heh, I like to be thorough :)
A/N: Written night before last at 3AM. Becoming a bit of a habit! Another little scene of my continuation to that kiss from To The Last Man (2x03). STILL no sexy things :| Self indulgent; couldn't get a certain image of Ianto out of my head. Comments are love for the (less) newbie. <3
The night progressed accordingly and now dawn is approaching. Ianto’s stuck on his side, eyes studying Jack in slumber at a pace that matches how slow he blinks. His elbow aches and his hand has long since gone completely numb. He knows comfort will soon win out and that he’ll have to shift, maybe move altogether. Jack’s bed has never been structurally made for two, whatever he’s said to Ianto to try and persuade him otherwise with a suggestive waggle of the eyebrows and a gaze-twinkling, bad pun.
It doesn’t even occur to him to question whether Jack is far away in dreams or not. It’s not that he doesn’t care. He’s cared too much before and he’s trying to teach himself to ease back a little. A lot of the time, Jack only sleeps a handful of hours each night (if that) and Ianto’s ready to accept that. It’s still unnerving but he also cherishes moments, like this, when he catches Jack vulnerable in sleep and there’s such truth there. It makes Jack’s quirks and complexities easier to bear. Apart from being alone, whilst Jack was gone, Ianto understands that he’s changed, mostly for the better, but it still hurts, hurts that the one person he wants to make proud hasn’t been able to see him grow. Maybe that’s why he was asked out on a date, maybe Jack feels he has to have time to relearn all the things he thought he knew about Ianto and then some. It strikes a slither too close to home on darker days because Ianto knows that’s how they both felt when his love-blind betrayal involving Lisa exploded out from the Hub’s basement and his heart. They didn’t recognise each other and it was probably worse than a first awkward meeting because everyone knows that Jack is anything but awkward and the white elephant of history and memories always stood between them anyway.
Ianto sighs and decides to make a stealthy exit for a while, intending to pad around the Hub when it’s far more hushed and a prefect setting for reflection. What he hadn’t expected was a move off Jack’s bed being abruptly halted by a hand seizing his pale wrist. The touch feels naked and harsh and his subconscious jerks, even though he knows its Jack and just as he thought the captain hadn’t been sleeping deeply. Maybe that’s what wishful thinking is after all.
“And where d’you think you’re going?” Jack asks softly, teasing wave to his tone.
“I was…” Ianto grapples for the right words, only comes up with the idea to keep it simple, “Well, I’ve lost all feeling in my hand”
He sees Jack arch an eyebrow up at him and Ianto would think of moonlight if he wasn’t privy to the fact that the blue hue is from a small monitor here and light flooding down the ladder from the Hub’s floor. It makes Jack’s eyes sparkle and seem brighter and suddenly Ianto just feels a need to kiss him. He hesitates for a moment then leans down and does so, chaste and controlled, despite Jack fisting strong fingers into the shoulder of the shirt he hadn’t ever managed to shrug off. Ianto has them pull apart and tries to ignore all of Jack’s tricks as he scoots further back onto the bed again and stretches out across Jack’s body as opposed to beside and over covers instead of underneath too. He’s not one to do what he wants on a whim, quiet obedience comes with the day job, but Jack doesn’t say anything to the new arrangement and he feels slightly daft (twpsun, his mother would fondly say, ruffling his hair…and that was only last Christmas) for ever thinking he would. Jack’s never been a conventional boss and even less so when he’s busy being Ianto’s lover.
His eyes have roamed Jack’s private quarters (not much to see) and they return to the man himself to find he’s being watched already.
“What?” he smiles gently, thankful that a blush would be hard to decipher in the pure, natural light of blueness. Even his shirt is blue today, tonight, yesterday. He’s wearing his underwear again too, but that feeling of exposure still seems to worm its way inside his chest. It’s thrilling and unsettling, the atmosphere, quiet sensuality and hot attraction, crackles with intensity much like static on a dysfunctional monitor.
“I wasn’t asleep”
Ianto nods slowly, “I know”
He lets his focus wander once more because regardless of where this could potentially go, he still feels relaxed, calm. He can feel the heat of Jack’s legs beneath his and he knows he’s not got a stitch of clothing on him and if he wasn’t so content to just talk Ianto would certainly ravish him and be open to be ravished all over again. It’s probably the most noticeable tweak, such refreshing confidence, something for Jack to push against and Ianto relishing him testing it.
“You were watching me”
It’s not a question but Ianto answers anyway, “Yes, sir, I was”
Jack tries his best to look weary, like his lover isn’t playing the particular game he has in mind, “Ianto”
“I don’t think you want me to drop the ‘sir’ after all” he sees Jack remove the arm thrown over his eyes in mock frustration and barely suppresses a smirk.
“Is that so?”
“It is. It’s just an excuse to say my name in that annoyed little way of yours too. You pretend an awful lot, Captain”
Jack exhales a breath and stretches his arm to move underneath his head, supporting him and Ianto is distantly reminded of numbness and pins and needles. Jack smiles; lopsided, lazy, seductive, latching onto the thread that Ianto’s begun weaving unintentionally all by himself.
“Your intelligence is astounding, Ianto Jones”
Ianto lets his palm meander without being mindful of where it goes as his fingertips lightly scratch against Jack’s ribcage, looking at his boss (no, not now, equal) at the very last moment, eyes ablaze with allsorts.
“But I’m starting to see the real you”
His breath hitches when Jack swiftly catches the palm pressed to his body and surges upwards, curling a hand at the nape of Ianto’s neck and kissing any chances of sleep out from under him. His hand is still kept prisoner in a grip that’s tight, bordering on desperate for understanding, to be welcomed and loved. The spark between them passes through where their bodies are meeting and Ianto feels his nerve endings start to fizz. He gasps but Jack hasn’t lost his knack to be in tune with the receptionist and he breaks their kiss, even as Ianto wants to keep going. He cradles the young man’s face in warm palms and stares at Ianto’s happily dazed expression.
“What’s wrong?”
Ianto chuckles, reclaims all his limbs as his own and uses them to great effect, pushing Jack down onto his back and straddling him before he can protest. Ianto is snapshots of black and midnight blue and television moonlight hue, like an abstract but utterly beautiful and fascinating painting. Jack’s the one who’s dazed now, maybe its infectious and he only registers the other man’s mouth so near when it’s actually moving against his.
“Nothing’s wrong” Ianto replies a little belatedly, words tickling Jack’s lips and making him want another kiss to soothe the odd sensation away, “Pins and needles, that's all” his eyes flash, glinting like sapphires, “but I know just the thing to make them disappear”
Maybe they both disappear within each other too.
FIN.
Author: imagination55
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Part: 1/1 - Standalone
Rating: PG-13
Summary: The night progressed accordingly and now dawn is approaching.
Disclaimer: I own not a single thing associated with Torchwood. This is all just fiction from my little brain.
Spoilers: Fairly obvious one from To The Last Man (2x03); mentions of Cyberwoman (1x04), post-End Of Days (1x13) and Kiss Kiss Bang Bang (2x01) happenings. Heh, I like to be thorough :)
A/N: Written night before last at 3AM. Becoming a bit of a habit! Another little scene of my continuation to that kiss from To The Last Man (2x03). STILL no sexy things :| Self indulgent; couldn't get a certain image of Ianto out of my head. Comments are love for the (less) newbie. <3
The night progressed accordingly and now dawn is approaching. Ianto’s stuck on his side, eyes studying Jack in slumber at a pace that matches how slow he blinks. His elbow aches and his hand has long since gone completely numb. He knows comfort will soon win out and that he’ll have to shift, maybe move altogether. Jack’s bed has never been structurally made for two, whatever he’s said to Ianto to try and persuade him otherwise with a suggestive waggle of the eyebrows and a gaze-twinkling, bad pun.
It doesn’t even occur to him to question whether Jack is far away in dreams or not. It’s not that he doesn’t care. He’s cared too much before and he’s trying to teach himself to ease back a little. A lot of the time, Jack only sleeps a handful of hours each night (if that) and Ianto’s ready to accept that. It’s still unnerving but he also cherishes moments, like this, when he catches Jack vulnerable in sleep and there’s such truth there. It makes Jack’s quirks and complexities easier to bear. Apart from being alone, whilst Jack was gone, Ianto understands that he’s changed, mostly for the better, but it still hurts, hurts that the one person he wants to make proud hasn’t been able to see him grow. Maybe that’s why he was asked out on a date, maybe Jack feels he has to have time to relearn all the things he thought he knew about Ianto and then some. It strikes a slither too close to home on darker days because Ianto knows that’s how they both felt when his love-blind betrayal involving Lisa exploded out from the Hub’s basement and his heart. They didn’t recognise each other and it was probably worse than a first awkward meeting because everyone knows that Jack is anything but awkward and the white elephant of history and memories always stood between them anyway.
Ianto sighs and decides to make a stealthy exit for a while, intending to pad around the Hub when it’s far more hushed and a prefect setting for reflection. What he hadn’t expected was a move off Jack’s bed being abruptly halted by a hand seizing his pale wrist. The touch feels naked and harsh and his subconscious jerks, even though he knows its Jack and just as he thought the captain hadn’t been sleeping deeply. Maybe that’s what wishful thinking is after all.
“And where d’you think you’re going?” Jack asks softly, teasing wave to his tone.
“I was…” Ianto grapples for the right words, only comes up with the idea to keep it simple, “Well, I’ve lost all feeling in my hand”
He sees Jack arch an eyebrow up at him and Ianto would think of moonlight if he wasn’t privy to the fact that the blue hue is from a small monitor here and light flooding down the ladder from the Hub’s floor. It makes Jack’s eyes sparkle and seem brighter and suddenly Ianto just feels a need to kiss him. He hesitates for a moment then leans down and does so, chaste and controlled, despite Jack fisting strong fingers into the shoulder of the shirt he hadn’t ever managed to shrug off. Ianto has them pull apart and tries to ignore all of Jack’s tricks as he scoots further back onto the bed again and stretches out across Jack’s body as opposed to beside and over covers instead of underneath too. He’s not one to do what he wants on a whim, quiet obedience comes with the day job, but Jack doesn’t say anything to the new arrangement and he feels slightly daft (twpsun, his mother would fondly say, ruffling his hair…and that was only last Christmas) for ever thinking he would. Jack’s never been a conventional boss and even less so when he’s busy being Ianto’s lover.
His eyes have roamed Jack’s private quarters (not much to see) and they return to the man himself to find he’s being watched already.
“What?” he smiles gently, thankful that a blush would be hard to decipher in the pure, natural light of blueness. Even his shirt is blue today, tonight, yesterday. He’s wearing his underwear again too, but that feeling of exposure still seems to worm its way inside his chest. It’s thrilling and unsettling, the atmosphere, quiet sensuality and hot attraction, crackles with intensity much like static on a dysfunctional monitor.
“I wasn’t asleep”
Ianto nods slowly, “I know”
He lets his focus wander once more because regardless of where this could potentially go, he still feels relaxed, calm. He can feel the heat of Jack’s legs beneath his and he knows he’s not got a stitch of clothing on him and if he wasn’t so content to just talk Ianto would certainly ravish him and be open to be ravished all over again. It’s probably the most noticeable tweak, such refreshing confidence, something for Jack to push against and Ianto relishing him testing it.
“You were watching me”
It’s not a question but Ianto answers anyway, “Yes, sir, I was”
Jack tries his best to look weary, like his lover isn’t playing the particular game he has in mind, “Ianto”
“I don’t think you want me to drop the ‘sir’ after all” he sees Jack remove the arm thrown over his eyes in mock frustration and barely suppresses a smirk.
“Is that so?”
“It is. It’s just an excuse to say my name in that annoyed little way of yours too. You pretend an awful lot, Captain”
Jack exhales a breath and stretches his arm to move underneath his head, supporting him and Ianto is distantly reminded of numbness and pins and needles. Jack smiles; lopsided, lazy, seductive, latching onto the thread that Ianto’s begun weaving unintentionally all by himself.
“Your intelligence is astounding, Ianto Jones”
Ianto lets his palm meander without being mindful of where it goes as his fingertips lightly scratch against Jack’s ribcage, looking at his boss (no, not now, equal) at the very last moment, eyes ablaze with allsorts.
“But I’m starting to see the real you”
His breath hitches when Jack swiftly catches the palm pressed to his body and surges upwards, curling a hand at the nape of Ianto’s neck and kissing any chances of sleep out from under him. His hand is still kept prisoner in a grip that’s tight, bordering on desperate for understanding, to be welcomed and loved. The spark between them passes through where their bodies are meeting and Ianto feels his nerve endings start to fizz. He gasps but Jack hasn’t lost his knack to be in tune with the receptionist and he breaks their kiss, even as Ianto wants to keep going. He cradles the young man’s face in warm palms and stares at Ianto’s happily dazed expression.
“What’s wrong?”
Ianto chuckles, reclaims all his limbs as his own and uses them to great effect, pushing Jack down onto his back and straddling him before he can protest. Ianto is snapshots of black and midnight blue and television moonlight hue, like an abstract but utterly beautiful and fascinating painting. Jack’s the one who’s dazed now, maybe its infectious and he only registers the other man’s mouth so near when it’s actually moving against his.
“Nothing’s wrong” Ianto replies a little belatedly, words tickling Jack’s lips and making him want another kiss to soothe the odd sensation away, “Pins and needles, that's all” his eyes flash, glinting like sapphires, “but I know just the thing to make them disappear”
Maybe they both disappear within each other too.
FIN.