Beautiful Iris - part 9
Title: Beautiful Iris
Part 9 - Making arrangements
Author: Jo19844
Rating:NC17
Pairings: Jack/Ianto, Tosh/Owen (sort of)
Summary: When a seemingly cut-and-dried incident calls out Torchwood early one morning not everything as it seems. Alien technology transmits a strange frequency signal and leads them into a trap of curiosity and an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar faces.
Disclaimer: I don't own Torchwood... believe me... if i did Jack and Ianto would walk around in nothing but tight pants (and a tie for Ianto) The BBC own it. so as much as i love it i don't own it :( also the title don't belong to me lol Although i have some pretty characters i made up myself.
Spoilers : Up to episode 7, also slight spoiler (very tiny) from the book Border Princess
Notes: Sorry about the delay. Mothers having strokes, friends taking overdoses and MS malfunction. life gets in the way.
Part 1: Cut & dried here -> http://jo19844.livejournal.com/4527.html
Part 2: Alien Lego here --> http://jo19844.livejournal.com/15486.html
Part 3 is here --> http://jo19844.livejournal.com/15691.html
Part 4: Meeting Iris here --> http://jo19844.livejournal.com/17433.html
Part 5: Finding the way here --> http://jo19844.livejournal.com/17963.html
Part 6: Thinking here --> http://jo19844.livejournal.com/18276.html
Part 7: Is this what you want? here --> http://jo19844.livejournal.com/19490.html
Part 8: Lost here --> http://jo19844.livejournal.com/23625.html
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The bedroom was cold at 6am in rural Wales; a lack of heating and the darkness of the world outside, with rain battering the sash windows, seemed to make lying under the warm blankets a much more appealing option then getting up. The three layers of bedclothes and a pair of cotton pyjamas were cosy though, and as Jack lay in bed pretending to sleep he wished he didn't have to get up so soon. In addition to all of that of course, there was the attraction of the gorgeous Welshman sprawled out over his chest.
When Ianto first came to bed the evening before he had spent most of the night glued to the edge of the bed, keeping his distance, but at 5am he stirred and turned; now he was lying with one leg hooked over Jack's and his head buried in his chest. One if his hands had moved to rest on Jack's thigh and was slowly inching towards his crotch. Jack's Pyjama jacket was open and he could feel the younger man's three-day stubble rubbing against his chest, scratching just a little over his smooth skin.
“Ianto?” he whispered.
The Welshman made an unrecognisable noise that fell halfway between a moan and a groan.
Jack stroked his shoulder. “Ianto. Are you getting up?”
“Why?” he mumbled, more asleep then awake, “what time is it?”
“Six.”
“Wake me at seven.” Ianto snuggled further into Jack, nuzzling into his neck a little bit in his semi-conscious state; his lips brushed against Jack's neck and he could feel the heat of his breath on his skin. “Too comfortable here, too warm. Not moving.”
He could feel Ianto's hand moving, slowly stroking his inner-thigh and closer towards his crotch until it stopped. His long fingers finally landed on Jack's groin; he was moments away from having to stop it when he felt Ianto's lips on his neck.
He put his head back on the pillow and swallowed hard before closing his eyes and exhaling a long controlled breath. Ianto's hand was moving slowly across the fabric of Jack's pyjamas and he wasn't even aware he was doing it; his lips brushed Jack's neck and his hips moved against his thigh.
Jack considered stopping it, but Ianto's fingers slipped into the gap between the buttons and he changed his mind; something was stopping him from speaking up and waking him. He raked his fingers through the Welshman's hair and groaned when he felt his hand stroke him He bit his lip for a moment before shifting a little.
“Ianto,” he whispered, “you should probably get up.”
Ianto shifted a little more, nuzzling Jack's neck and covering his body with his weight. His hand moved from inside Jack's trousers and ran up his chest, moving the jacket to the side as he nibbled on his shoulder; his hips started to rock, and his lips kissed the skin on Jack's neck softly.
Jack moaned a little too loudly when Ianto's tongue came into contact with his earlobe, and the younger man paused. His body went stiff and his hands pushed against Jack's chest; he levered himself off and looked down at him.
“Morning.” Jack's voice was barely audible. He licked his lips and moved his hand to cup Ianto's cheek. “It's fine.”
Ianto looked at him; he meant to speak, but the words just wouldn't come. Jack looked flustered, and as he stared at him with open eyes, his look softened. “You don't need to explain anything.”
“Why didn't you stop me?” Ianto's lips were hovering precariously close to Jack's, and as he spoke they almost brushed.
Jack smiled. “I didn't want to.”
“And you think that's fair?” Ianto asked,“You just let me embarrass myself.”
“You shouldn't be embarrassed. I was too busy wondering why you were doing it.” Jack traced his fingers down the younger man's jaw and felt the heat of his breath on his lips; he was close enough to taste, and had he moved half an inch he would have been close enough to kiss him. “It's not the kind of thing that happens naturally.”
Ianto closed his eyes. “Force of habit,” he whispered, “you're in bed with someone, you can feel their heat, and you presume you're with them.”
“Old habits die hard.”
“But it's not an old habit.” Ianto avoided Jack's glare, and tried to ignore the warmth of his fingers brushing over his lips. “You and me, we're not a habit that I've ever had before.”
“We could always make it a habit.”
Ianto fixed his eyes on the older man's gaze and brushed his fingers through his hair, letting his lips fall a little closer until they were touching Jack's. “It would be one that I couldn't quit.”
“You say that as though it's a bad thing.”
“It's the worst thing,” Ianto said, licking his lips and tasting Jack in the process, “you like to make things difficult.”
Jack frowned a little and trailed his fingers across Ianto's jawbone. “I would never want to make things deliberately hard for you, but sometimes it's just not possible to make things easy.”
“You could try to make it better instead if making it worse,”
“I'm not the one making things worse,” Jack said pointedly, "You were the one lying on top of me, with your hands down my pants and your lips on my neck; you're the one pinning me to the bed.” Jack felt Ianto's breathing increase and the beating of his heart race against his chest. “You haven't even tried to move.”
“Neither have you.”
“I have no reason to; I'm not the one calling the shots.” Jack refused to break eye contact. “If you wanted to move then you would have, but you don't and you haven't.”
“How would you know what I want?”
“I know you,” Jack whispered, brushing his thumb over Ianto's lips slowly, “you haven't moved because you don't want to lose this heat, and you're afraid because you know we want the same thing.”
Ianto swallowed the dry lump in his throat and tried to regulate his breathing. He could feel the heat of Jack's thumb pressed lightly on his lips and kissed it softly before speaking. “Lucky guess,” Ianto said, “it doesn't mean you know me.”
“Yes, it does.”
Ianto stared at him for a moment, only breaking eye contact to look at his lips; they looked moist and inviting, almost succulent, and when Jack darted out his tongue to lick them a little, Ianto couldn't resist. He lowered his head and kissed Jack's lips, touching his face with his his hands.
Jack didn't deepen the kiss, but he snaked his arms around the younger man, pulling his body closer. His fingers ran underneath the material of Ianto's pyjama jacket, crumpling the material up a little and exposing his back to the cool air. He could feel Ianto as he deepened the kiss and pressed his hips into him; Jack moved his hands down the centre of Ianto's spine and rested his hands on the younger man's backside, pulling him against his body.
Ianto's hands raked through Jacks hair as their bodies moved closer, their hips grinding a slow rhythm; soft moans were lost within mouths and hot breaths mingled together.
A harsh knock on the door forced their lips apart and a soft female voice filtered through the wood. “Are you boys decent?”
“No.” Jack said calmly, touching Ianto's face as he stared at him with lustful eyes from above him. “Give us a minute.”
“Well don't be long, your hot water is cooling.”
Jack ran his hand down Ianto's neck slowly and rested his fingers on his collarbone. “Someone really needs to teach that girl the importance of judging between good and bad timing.
Ianto licked his lips nervously and swallowed a dry lump in his throat; he blinked quickly a few times before finding his voice through hard panting breaths. “What do we do now?”
“You should open the door,” Jack said.
“Maybe you should.”
“You're closest.”
“I still think you should answer it,” Ianto said quietly. He avoided Jack's gaze.
“You're on top of me, it's easier for you.”
Ianto swallowed hard and smiled a little, verging on a blush. “It's a bit hard for me at the moment.” The Welshman looked him in the eyes and pressed his body into him.”Don't make me explain.”
Jack licked his lips and shifted underneath him. “Okay.” He pushed Ianto over onto his back and kissed his lips softly. “We'll talk about this later.” Jack stood up, fastened his pyjama jacket and made his way towards the door, giving Ianto some time to get under the sheets and straighten his pyjamas. He opened the door and looked at Iris as she walked in and placed a large bowl of water on a table at the furthest corner of the room.
“You two should get up,” she said, “It's past six.”
“I'm sorry. Six is early where we come from.” Jack told her.
“Well here it's not.” She walked over to the window and pulled open the curtains. Bright sunlight streamed through the window and the sound of birds filtered through when she pulled up the sash a little. “Some morning air is what you need to wake you up. Get some country air into those city lungs” She looked at Ianto. “Sir, you look practically flustered.”
“Do I?” Ianto said nervously.
“You look hot and bothered.” Iris sat down on the bed and put her hand on his forehead. “You feel a little hot, I do hope that fever isn't starting to set in.”
“I feel fine.”
She swept her fingers over his chin. “You're looking rather rugged.” A small smile crossed her lips, and barely reached the corner of her eyes before she lowered it. “And i don't mean that in a good way. You need a shave.”
“I don't have a razor,” he said, moving away a little.
“I'll get you one for this evening. We're expecting cousins for dinner tomorrow night and I couldn't possibly let them see our house guests looking like something we've scraped up off the streets.”
"Of course not."
"I should think you two scrub up well," she said, looking between the two of them. "I'd be careful if i were you, My cousin Beatrice is a modern kind of girl. London-bred. She's ruthless. You two should want to stick together to avoid her advances."
“If she's as beautiful as you I'm not sure we would want to,” Jack said.
Iris turned to face Ianto. “Do you suppose he thinks that his charm works on me Mr. Jones?”
“Jack supposes his charm works on everyone,” he replied, “he expects every species to fall at his feet.”
She stood up and sighed, looking at Jack. “You're too confident for your own good. You should know that girls much prefer the quiet type.” She looked over at Ianto as she made her way towards the door. “I'll put you some bacon on; you liked that yesterday.” Turning to Jack, she let a smirk cross her lips. “You can have porridge.”
She left the room with a gentle swish of her dress and closed the door behind her.
“Oh,” Jack smirked, “Iris likes you.”
Ianto pulled the sheets back and got out of bed, making his way over to where his clothes had been laid out the evening before. “Or maybe she just finds you a little hard to take.”
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The hub was suffering in Ianto's absence; pizza boxes were strewn around on desks and the boardroom table was so cluttered with takeaway boxes it was unusable. The whole place was starting to smell distinctively of Myfanwy and the paperwork was starting to pile up on Owen's cluttered desk.
Jack's office was covered in alien tech that Owen had pulled out from the secured archives, but none of it seemed to do anything worthwhile, or at least nothing that he could operate with Toshiko's know-how. Everything seemed to have fallen apart without the bulk of the team and Gwen was nowhere to be seen.
Owen picked up his mobile and rang Gwen's number; voicemail. He hung up and threw his mobile across the cluttered floor, where it landed in a slice of stale peperoni pizza.
The alarms reverberated around the hub and the heavy cog door rolled open.
“Where the fuck have you been?” Owen blasted as Gwen wandered in, holding two cups of Starbucks coffee.
“Home.”
“Yeah well some of us have been two busy to even THINK about going home.”
Gwen walked over to him and handed him the coffee, then created a space on his desk so that she could perch on it. “Did you find anything?”
“Nothing, nothing at all.”
“Do you think that maybe it could be time for us to call someone else?”
“Nope.” Owen spun back to his computer in his chair and stuck his pen in his mouth, chewing on it as he concentrated on the screen. “I've been looking at some of Ianto's files; now there's a lot of shit on there--” he turned around, “--gayest music collection ever. Do you know he actually has ABBA on there? fucking 'Dancing Queen'!”
“Is this about his music collection?”
“No. But I thought it was valid.”
“So, what else was on there?”
“Nine inch nails, strangely enough. He's diverse if nothing else.”
“Owen!” Gwen warned.
“Fine. Okay so after I had passed his fucking obscure music collection, his pictures of David Beckham naked--”
“Really?”
“No. Mainly pictures of alien tech, nothing juicy.”
Gwen shook her head. “Can you get to the point?”
“Yes. Would you like me to?”
“Yes please.”
“Okay. So alongside all the weird shit he's got on his hard drive I came across some weird alien document thing. So connected it up to Toshiko's translation program and bingo!” He pointed to the computer screen. “Recognise it?”
Gwen took a look at the screen, squinting a little bit; she took a step back. “That's that tracking device we found.”
“Yep.” Owen smiled. “Am I good?”
“So, you've figured out that an alien device has sent them through the rift. We knew that already.”
“Ah, yes but now we know the origin of it.”
Gwen stared at him blankly
"So...” Owen waited for her response before continuing. “Now, we can have a little look in the archives and see if there's anything that remotely resembles it."
“And if there's not?”
“Well--” Owen scrolled down the screen and pointed to another image.”-- then we have the blueprint.”
He stood up and made his way towards the archives, grabbing a printout on the way.
“You can't make one!”
“Why not?”
Gwen followed him, walking behind him quickly. “It's an alien device not an Ikea flat pack bookshelf!”
“yeah well it's been three days since they went missing and we haven't had a single lead; we're missing the guy who knows everything, our tech expert and Ianto. It might not be the most appealing option, or even the smartest option but it's the only one we've got.”
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The water had almost completely cooled by the time Jack has finished washing, and he threw the facecloth into the bowl with a splash. He looked over his shoulder as he dried his face and looked at the Welshman sitting on the bed, fastening up his boots; he tied each lace slowly, resting his chin on his knee. He looked up at Jack for a moment but looked away when their eyes met an concentrated on tying the laces again.
Jack leant against the wall and put his hands in his pockets, looking side-on at Ianto. “I miss my shower,” he said, “I like hot running water in a morning. And a shave.”
Ianto said nothing, and put his foot up on the bed to adjust the hem of his trousers over the boots. He had spoken very little since Iris had left them, and had spent close to twenty minutes dressing slowly in silence without a word.
Jack draped the damp towel over the cast-iron bed frame and leant on the wall, looking over at Ianto. “So, you're not talking to me now.”
“I'm not consciously not talking to you,” he said, “I just have nothing to say.”
“Well I can think of a few things that we could talk about.”
“I don't want to talk, Jack.” Ianto stood briefly and slipped the white shirt on over his vest, then sat back down to fasten it, paying close attention to the buttons. “Talking sometimes just makes things worse.”
Jack sighed and slumped down on the bed, lying down and covering his face with his hands. A frustrated growl escaped from his mouth, muffled by his hands.
“What?”
Jack slowly removed his hands and sat up, turning to face the Welshman. “Do you even know how much you are wrecking my head?” he asked. “Very few people have ever been able to bring me to my knees the way you do.
Ianto smirked a little. “That's not what I've heard.”
Jack chuckled and took another deep breath, looking over at Ianto who's face was still supporting a little smirk. He nudged his shoulder. “We can't go on like this.”
“No,” Ianto said, “I know that.”
“Things are hard enough without us being this way. We have to keep it together if we're going to keep our heads down.”
“It's just hard; I cant ignore you, but when I acknowledge you--”
“You cant resist me.” Jack smiled.
“As much as I would like to keep my pride and pretend that isn't the case, I would prove myself wrong far too quickly.”
“I think we've both successfully proved that we're not capable of resisting those particular urges.”
“If i could be sure of being able to go out there and look at you the same way as I did before all of this happened, then I wouldn't been so keen to resist,” Ianto said, “but I know that if anything did happen then I wouldn't be able to look at you across the dinner table without wanting to leap over it ever again.”
“And we can't have that.”
“No.”
“We'd squash the potatoes and break the china.” Jack locked his eyes onto Ianto and rose an eyebrow, “and that would make us very bad house guests.”
“We had better keep our hands to ourselves then.”
“Probably best.”
“Although,” Ianto took Jack's hand and turned to face him,”we don't have to be too distant from each other when we're together though, do we?.”
“No.” Jack shook his head and looked at Ianto over his eyelashes with the smallest hint of a smirk on his lips. “Because that's just stupid.”
“I don't have to sleep too far over the opposite side of the bed, for instance.”
“We could even share the middle,” Jack suggested, running his fingers up the Welshman's wrist, “nights could get cold.”
“Just as long as we don't get too close, and do anything that could lead to us--”
“Squashing the potatoes and breaking the china?”
“Yes.”
“But when we get home--”
“Well,when we get back home then we could, potentially, break anything we wanted on MY kitchen table.”
Jack licked his dry lips and leaned towards the Welshman. “And is your kitchen table sturdy enough to break things on?”
“I don't know. I haven't tried it out yet.” Ianto ran his hands along Jack's thighs and hooked his thumbs inside the waistband of his trousers; he locked his eyes on Jack and let a small smirk tug at the corner of his lips.
“You're a very cruel man,” Jack whimpered, “I can see you making things really hard for me.”
Ianto closed the gap between them and pushed Jack back onto the bed, and then straddled him. “If we can keep things simple outside then things will be easy.”
“You're taking advantage of me now,” Jack said, laying his head back and closing his eyes. He could feel the gentle pressure as Ianto continued to grind his hips a little from his dominant position above him. “I can't say I'm hating it.”
“Iris will be knocking on that door in a minute. We're missing breakfast.”
“I don't mind,” Jack breathed resting his hands on Ianto's hips, “I'm not hungry in the slightest.”
“I should go down.” Ianto increased the pressure of his hips a little.
“I insist that you do,” Jack whimpered, sliding his hands around to Ianto's backside. “I have a feeling you would be very good at that.”
Ianto smiled a little and Jack opened his eyes, fixing them on the Welshman's gaze. “I meant downstairs.”
“The hell you did. You're such a cocktease.”
“Maybe,” Ianto smirked, lowering himself down and positioning his head to whisper into Jack's ear. “But I'm a good one.”
“Or a bad one,” Jack turned his head, “it really depends on definition.” He pulled the younger man's hips down, grabbing him and pulling their bodies together. “You really don't want to leave at this point.”
Ianto whimpered and pressed his lips against Jack's neck, nipping at the skin; he could feel his body tense as the older man bucked his hips a little. He heard a gasp escape from Jack's lips and quickly clasped his hand over his mouth, biting down on his neck to stop himself.
Ianto gritted his teeth and moved his mouth to Jack's ear as he felt the man underneath him increase the pace. “I think I'm going to have to sit next to you at breakfast,” he breathed, “looking across the table at you would be a very bad idea this morning.”
Jack's muffled moans almost escaped from underneath Ianto's hand, and the younger man tightened his grip, burning fingerprints deep in the Captain's skin. He could feel fingers digging into him as Jack pulled him closer against him, bringing him to the edge and a whimper escaped from his throat. Jack increased the pace, guiding their bodies together as he lost what little control he had left, coming and letting out a deep throaty moan.
Ianto's hand moved from Jack's mouth and he gripped the sheets at either side of his head, twisting his hands in the material; he pressed his face into Jack's neck and tried to disguise the moan that he couldn't hold back.
He collapsed onto Jack's body for a moment to catch his breath.
“God, I needed that,” Jack said breathlessly, licking his lips to wet them. He put his hands on Ianto's head and stroked his hair slowly until the Welshman had enough energy to move.
“I need breakfast.” Ianto rolled onto his back breathlessly and covered his face with his arm.
“We're okay, right?” he asked.
“Of course,” Ianto said, “Just as long as we don't do that on the kitchen table.”
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