Fic: Ersatz
Spoilers: KKBB, interseason Himalayas mission
Warning: Graphic sex
This is all kinds of wrong. God, brain, what are you doing shipping het when there's CANON slash?
*Groans shamefully*
--
“Ianto,” she says, “Ianto, please.”
But he doesn’t look at her, which may have something to do with the gaping wound in his chest that she doesn’t want to think about right now. It takes a moment before he opens his eyes slowly and she practically collapses in relief because, thank god, she’d hate to have killed her team while Jack’s gone.
“Owen,” Ianto mumbles, his cheek pressed against her thigh, “I…I think I need Owen.”
“He’s on his way now, you hear me, Ianto? So stay strong until he gets here.” I won’t be losing you today.
“-k, Gwen.” He mumbles, but his voice is faint and his eyelids are sluggish and she can’t think of anything to do but wipe her tears off his forehead.
---
“I miss him.” Ianto says suddenly, out of the blue. They don’t dance around the topic any longer because, strangely, Jack’s absence is what’s holding them all together.
“Me too.” She responds, thinking that she can’t remember anyone sounding as lost as Ianto does now, dazed and strangely vulnerable in his impeccable suit.
But at the end of the day, she goes home to Rhys, because he can make her forget about Jack and Ianto and what a bad job she’s doing, putting her team in danger all the time, without Jack’s ability to save them at the end of it all.
Her team doesn’t connect with her the way they did with Jack: that much she knows, and sometimes, it feels like she’s losing to someone who isn’t even here.
---
It’s late evening in the hub. Tosh and Owen have already left, for pubs if not their homes. Ianto has looked a little off all day, so she stays behind under the pretense of paperwork, even though she’s never behind on it the way Jack was.
“I miss him.” Ianto says, hand paused halfway to her empty coffee mug, and they’ve done this enough times that she knows what he needs.
It doesn’t take long before they’re panting into each other’s mouths, hands fumbling at ties and buttons that come undone from sheer enthusiasm and persistence rather than coordination.
His hands glide over her chest, and she thinks that Ianto is probably the perfect lover with women: the kind who never grabs or squeezes too hard, who always take care of their partner first, and who makes sure to clean up afterwards. She could remember those wild days in college when she would have killed to have someone like Ianto, even if only for a night of variety after chains of one night shags with barely post-adolescent blokes. But now, she surprises herself by pitying Ianto for his control, because no one should have to hold back so much of themselves so much of the time.
His fingers are light across her bare stomach, traveling down her abdomen with feather-like caresses that make her squirm away and lean closer at the same time. And perhaps they make her squeak a little too, because suddenly she’s looking up at Ianto, who’s chuckling in amusement, and she can’t help but join him because it’s been so long since she’s heard anything even resembling laughter from him.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” She teases after the laughter drifts off, their foreheads touching in a rather intimate gesture.
“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, madam.”
She swats his arm playfully. “Tosser.”
“I could always call you sir, if you prefer-”
But the last bit of his sentence dies down as her fingers reach his cock and squeezes gently to warn him of the consequences of being too mouthy.
It doesn’t take long before Ianto is completely hard and resting in her palm. She thinks it’s a rather nice cock, definitely one of the better ones she’s seen in her life, and not just because she’s used to it either. Covered with a layer of downy hair, it’s long-ish and thick and growing more so as she curls her fingers around it.
She knows what he wants and gives it to him in a series of firm, long strokes that make his breath stutter when he exhales. But the way he remains so silent during sex is a slightly unnerving experience, because she’s used to Rhys moaning and cursing and even laughing when they have sex. Nevertheless, Ianto’s occasional gasps are rewarding, and she could tell from the way he is biting on his lower lip that he is probably close.
When she finally brings him off, his soft sigh against her shoulder makes it worth it.
---
She never thinks of it as cheating on Rhys, because she’s not in love with Ianto. Rather, it’s like one of those Torchwood side-jobs that aren’t exactly in the job description, but everyone expects you to do it anyways. Like setting the Hub alarm every night, or talking to the victims, or taking care of team members.
But reflecting on the rollercoaster that is Jack and Ianto’s relationship, Gwen wonders if the last one is one of the mandatory tasks after all.
---
Going to the Himalayas is a joke, a wild goose chase, because it’s the Himalayas, for God’s sake. She and the others know this, but they still choose to go. “Hope is better than nothing” seems to be the motto of Torchwood these days, so who is she to dissuade them of their motivation?
It’s cold there. Gwen thinks she should have expected this and is almost pathetically grateful that Ianto had, because those thermoses of coffee and winter camping gear are probably what saved the team from hypothermia on their first day when the snow storm blew in without warning. Even Owen is grateful, muttering an albeit reluctant thanks at Ianto after downing his fourth cup of hot coffee lined with whisky.
That’s how their first day passes, with all of them in the tent that Ianto has meticulously set up without Owen’s help, and since Ianto is actually proficient at building up tents, he is spared from the usual innuendo-filled jokes from the team.
It’s chilly inside, but with body heat and the equivalent of glowy alien magnesium sulfate, it quickly warms up. And once Ianto has handed out the hot drinks, everyone cozies up to their own packs, separated in their own thoughts and businesses.
---
SPROING
“Oi, guys,” Owen says. He looks around to locate the source of that sound. “What was that?”
“I thought it was you.” Tosh says, not lifting her eyes from the Rift-activity probe.
“Oh, bloody har har, it was not-”
He is cut off by Ianto, who strides past him in a blur of orange-and-navy parka to an inky spot in the snow some twenty meters from them.
“Tosh, could you come and see this?” Ianto asks, but is careful to keep his voice quiet lest they start an avalanche.
The team abandons their packs to join him beside a familiar looking jack-in-a-box, from which a distinct ticking sound can be heard.
“Is it just me, or does that look a bit like Jack?” Tosh whispers.
“Perhaps he got turned into one?” Gwen speculates.
“Maybe if you kiss it,” Owen tells Ianto, “it’ll spring back into the real Jack.”
“Just wait and let me look it over.” Tosh says, and brings the rift probe closer to the box-
---
“Da, dadum, dadadadum. Boom goes the weasel.” Owen hums under his breath later when they’re all digging the helicopter from under the snow.
---
(Filed under “Time, Waste of”)
There was a Jack-in-the-box. It exploded. We lived. I proposed an orgy that was shot down.
(Please refer to Ianto Jones’s report for further detail. I’m pretty sure I nagged him into writing a proper one.)
Dr. Owen Harper, 07/06/06
-
Unfortunately, we did not find Jack. However, the Himalayas are very nice at this time of the year, provided that one is fond of snow storms and tempestuous winds. Perhaps we should order some brochures of the Himalayas for the tourist office repertoire.
Ianto Jones, General Support, 08/06/06
-
We went to the Himalayas on a request from the highest authority, something about Abaddon and rift activity half way up the K-2. There, we found a jack-in-the-box that exploded and caused an avalanche. It was clear that someone set us up.
Overall, it was an unproductive mission; however, we did make the discovery that the combination of whisky and alien glow sticks makes a gas that smells like oranges.
Dr. Owen Harper claimed that it also caused psychosis, and pled such when the team threatened to throw him out of the tent for his numerous provocative comments.
Toshiko Sato, Technical Support, 09/06/06
-
Sometimes, she thinks that reading the team’s mission reports is the best part of this job.
---
Heat waves are rare in Cardiff, but when they do come, it’s with the force of multiple summers concentrated into one week. Torchwood fares better than the rest, but even in the underground hub they can still feel the heat. They fight it with ice cubes, cold beverages and alien devices, and the coffee machine has not been used in days. However, the effort is futile, because the oppressive heat has rendered them all lethargic and cranky, and has made for one of the most unproductive weeks in Torchwood she has ever seen.
So she’s thankful when Friday finally comes, because it means she can send everyone home early and hog all the air conditioning to herself while she finishes the end-of-week reports. Unsurprisingly, Ianto stays behind.
She thought he would come to her, as he has done some many times before, lingering at the side of her desk. But hours have passed since dinner and she has not even seen Ianto’s shadow.
Her fingers go to her earpiece. “Where are you?” She asks.
“The roof.” He replies. And the line goes dead.
That is indeed where she finds him, his back to her, looking pensively to the Cardiff skyline. He is still dressed in his immaculate suit, despite the stifling weather, and she is tempted to make him take it off, because even looking at him is making her sweat.
“Let’s go inside.” She says instead, and for good reason too. The air is stagnant up here, which is a sign that a storm, a large one, will be here soon. She can already feel the static in the air making her fingertips tingle.
“I’m fine.” Ianto replies. He still doesn’t turn around. “But you go down. No use in two of us becoming lightning rods.”
The dead humour in his tone makes her wince, because while she doesn’t know what brought this on, she does know that she’s losing control of it, fast.
“Ianto, come.” She puts as much authority in her voice as possible in hopes that he will listen, and it’s enough that he turns around to look at her again.
The dark rainclouds are roiling in behind him in an eerily fitting image of his mood. The winds are picking up as well, blowing every which way and tousling her hair. The storm is coming.
“Ianto, come with me.” She says again, this time with her hand extended towards him.
Perhaps they are held immobile by each other’s gaze, but neither of them makes a move. Instead, they stand there, quiet and stubborn, a contest of wills. Her arm feels leaden from being outstretched for so long, but she keeps it there, unwavering in an unspoken order to obey.
A crack of lightning. One two three four five six seven eigh- she counts. The thunder rumbles.
Another one lights up the sky. One two three four five six-
One two three-
That was it. The rain begins to fall, each drop crashing down with such force that her face stings from the impact. They are both drenched in seconds.
“Ianto!” She calls over the thunder and rain, but he doesn’t move. She’s lost this one. Dear God how badly she lost this one.
“Ianto please.” She says. She walks towards him steadily, projecting confidence that she does not feel. “Come with me.”
Water is running from his hair down his cheeks and droplets are falling from his chin. Her throat catches as she gets a closer look at him; it’s clear from his red-rimmed eyes that more than just rain has wet his face.
When she reaches him, she throws her arms around his neck and brings his forehead to hers. She is on her tiptoes and his head is bent downwards, but they stay like this, crying in the rain, the noise of water impacting with the ground hiding the sound of their sobs.
They’re wet all over, and she can no longer differentiate her tears from his or from the torrents of rain that’s drenching them relentlessly. They cry until they’ve run out of tears, until only dry sobs remained to wrack their bodies in irregular intervals. Through it all, they hang onto each other, pressed together so tightly that they could feel each individual beat of the other’s heart.
And when there’s nothing left to do but kiss, they do. Wet, slick mouths pressed together, different from all the other times before, simultaneously hurting and healing. Their fingers are tangled together, cool from the combination of rain and wind. It’s desperation at the most basic level when their tear at their clothes, hissing in impatience and the feel of harsh raindrops hitting newly uncovered skin.
Their clothing is strewn all over the roof, but she is not afraid of prying eyes or ears, because the storm hides everything they do and every sound they make. She manages to lose her clothing first due to Ianto’s quick fingers, the last article, her teeshirt, dropping at their feet. He has maneuvered her towards a platform in the middle of the roof, and he now pushes her back so that she is lying on top of it.
The rain forms rivulets that flow between her breasts and pools in her navel, and Ianto traces their paths with his tongue, hot and soft in contrast to the numbness of her skin, and she can’t help but tangle her fingers into his hair to tug him closer, lower.
He obliges, and the first touch of his tongue on her clitoris makes her fingers tighten even more in his hair. She is slightly apologetic, because his head must be aching from her brutal pulls, but she finds herself not caring when his teeth closes around her clit and she wails from the sensations shooting throughout her body.
She’s loud and wild in her pleasure, and she wonders distantly what everyone would say if they saw them like this, right now, with his head between her legs and her head thrown back, both of them shaking and trembling under the ruthless barrage of raindrops.
Two of his fingers slide into her without warning, then quickly withdraws again to repeat the motion. It’s not long before the two fingers become three, pumping in and out of her quickly, his agile tongue still working her clit skillfully. The blood pooling to her groin makes her feel heavy and needy and devastatingly empty, so she pulls his head away while scooting back slightly onto her tailbone.
Ianto’s lips are swollen and shiny with her juices and rain. His eyes are dark with lust when they meet hers, and the action of him licking his lips clean makes her shudder in apprehension. Deciding that she could wait no longer, she leans forward to undo his belt, taking the opportunity to close her mouth over his right nipple and bites.
She grins into his slick skin at the choked sound he makes, and continues to nibble at his chest as she pulls his drenched pants down his hips.
His cock is straining against the wet briefs; she could see it through the translucent white fabric. She takes the time to lick her way down his chest, the way he did for her, following the trail of matted, dark hair that leads below the elastic of his thin briefs that, when wet, leaves nothing to the imagination.
She takes the time to nuzzle his straining erection before she pulls down the last barrier and closes her mouth over the head of the straining cock. It’s warm and heavy on her tongue, smooth and slick from the rain and precome, and she thinks that the taste of rainwater and salt will forever be embedded into her sense memory.
Ianto is trying to control himself, she knows this by his tense back muscles and clenched hands tangled in his discarded shirt. Trying not to huff an impatient sigh, she gropes for his hands and guides them to her head, telling him without words that he can let go, that this is a mutual taking of pleasure.
It seems that he gets the idea when he strokes her wet locks and pushes gently into her mouth, slow careful, and she does sigh this time, albeit for different reasons, and the warm puff of air around his cock causes Ianto to push further into her mouth. Breathing is tricky with the heavy downpour, but with a little maneuvering and practice, she manages to not suffocate, and instead enjoy the breathy gasps Ianto makes.
Sex is messy; good sex is even messier. She thinks that this is probably in the latter category, if the amount of saliva and rainwater running down her chin is anything to go by. But the feeling of a firm cock in her mouth is such a turn on that she doesn’t mind the soreness setting into her jaw and the uncomfortable bumps at the back of her throat.
She can tell from the increasingly salty taste in her mouth that Ianto is probably close, so she pulls away after a last lick to rummage her pockets for a condom. It’s not long before she gets it onto Ianto, and it takes even less time to push him onto his back and sink onto his cock.
It’s a slight stretch, because Ianto is by no means small, and she knows that she’ll be sore after this is over. But she continues, because his cock is firm and hard and waiting for her to impale herself on it and, god, it feels so bloody amazing.
Ianto’s hands are settled on her hips to guide her, and they have synched it so that he is pushing up as she pushes down. It all feels so good that she does not want to stop, ever, even if the concrete is rough on her knees as she rides him. Luckily, Ianto is thoughtful in all that he does, and he shifts slightly to get their clothes under them so they do not end up with skinned body parts in questionable places.
They have a brisk pace built up, and their bodies are colliding and slapping together as relentlessly as the rain is falling from the sky. When Ianto shifts her slightly before pushing in deeper, his cock makes contact with a particular spot that makes her see white stars and scream into the dark sky above them.
She can no longer tell if it is raining, because everything is so slick and so hot that surely raindrops are evaporating as soon as they hit her skin. The blood pounding in her ears sound like thunder, and the light show that Ianto is providing her with every push looks and feels like lighting.
They’re close, they are so close that she can see Ianto straining to hold back. It’s a subtle show of courtesy that makes her smile when she reaches her climax with the taste of electricity on the back of her tongue. She clenches tightly around him as she rides the waves, her fingers digging into his shoulders so hard that they will leave bruises on his pale skin
And for the first time since this affair began, Ianto gasps her name when he comes.
Jack is right, she will think later, everything does sound better with those Welsh vowels.
---
When Jack comes back, she shows him how Torchwood Three is now hers; how all the team are working harmoniously together, how they all got by fine without him there to guide them. She tells him how they returned to their jobs to save people, regardless of whether their leader had run off without a word and abandoned them.
She doesn’t show him the scars she’s gotten, the scars they’ve all gotten in the time he was absent. She doesn’t tell him of Tosh’s crying, of Owen’s nightly bar brawls, or of Ianto almost dying. She especially doesn’t tell him of that month right after he left, when they had to bury thirteen school children because the team had fallen apart during a mission.
--
“I came back for you.” Jack says, “All of you.”
And she hides a smile because there’s hope for them, all of them, again.
--
Of course, with Jack back, one of the things she hands over along with her temporary promotion is this thing with Ianto. This is another thing that she would never tell Jack, because if he needs to know, Ianto will tell him, and Ianto is a very good judge of imperative information.
When one day, three months later, she catches Jack looking speculatively at her, she knows that Ianto has told. Confident that she’s safe in her position at Torchwood, she doesn’t worry about her job, or of Rhys finding out, or of further tension between her and Jack because, to be honest, there’s always tension between them.
Surprisingly, what she is worried about is Ianto, whom she finds herself thinking about more than she had last year; but she puts this down to the protectiveness she has gained when he was under her responsibility, and thinks nothing more of it.
---
FIN
---
Okay. Maybe this isn't the way to ask for one...but I am looking for a beta, since English is not my first language and I've only been speaking it for a few years.
I don't post that often, perhaps only once a month, so it wouldn't be much work. If you're interested, please comment. Thank you! :)
Warning: Graphic sex
This is all kinds of wrong. God, brain, what are you doing shipping het when there's CANON slash?
*Groans shamefully*
--
“Ianto,” she says, “Ianto, please.”
But he doesn’t look at her, which may have something to do with the gaping wound in his chest that she doesn’t want to think about right now. It takes a moment before he opens his eyes slowly and she practically collapses in relief because, thank god, she’d hate to have killed her team while Jack’s gone.
“Owen,” Ianto mumbles, his cheek pressed against her thigh, “I…I think I need Owen.”
“He’s on his way now, you hear me, Ianto? So stay strong until he gets here.” I won’t be losing you today.
“-k, Gwen.” He mumbles, but his voice is faint and his eyelids are sluggish and she can’t think of anything to do but wipe her tears off his forehead.
---
“I miss him.” Ianto says suddenly, out of the blue. They don’t dance around the topic any longer because, strangely, Jack’s absence is what’s holding them all together.
“Me too.” She responds, thinking that she can’t remember anyone sounding as lost as Ianto does now, dazed and strangely vulnerable in his impeccable suit.
But at the end of the day, she goes home to Rhys, because he can make her forget about Jack and Ianto and what a bad job she’s doing, putting her team in danger all the time, without Jack’s ability to save them at the end of it all.
Her team doesn’t connect with her the way they did with Jack: that much she knows, and sometimes, it feels like she’s losing to someone who isn’t even here.
---
It’s late evening in the hub. Tosh and Owen have already left, for pubs if not their homes. Ianto has looked a little off all day, so she stays behind under the pretense of paperwork, even though she’s never behind on it the way Jack was.
“I miss him.” Ianto says, hand paused halfway to her empty coffee mug, and they’ve done this enough times that she knows what he needs.
It doesn’t take long before they’re panting into each other’s mouths, hands fumbling at ties and buttons that come undone from sheer enthusiasm and persistence rather than coordination.
His hands glide over her chest, and she thinks that Ianto is probably the perfect lover with women: the kind who never grabs or squeezes too hard, who always take care of their partner first, and who makes sure to clean up afterwards. She could remember those wild days in college when she would have killed to have someone like Ianto, even if only for a night of variety after chains of one night shags with barely post-adolescent blokes. But now, she surprises herself by pitying Ianto for his control, because no one should have to hold back so much of themselves so much of the time.
His fingers are light across her bare stomach, traveling down her abdomen with feather-like caresses that make her squirm away and lean closer at the same time. And perhaps they make her squeak a little too, because suddenly she’s looking up at Ianto, who’s chuckling in amusement, and she can’t help but join him because it’s been so long since she’s heard anything even resembling laughter from him.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” She teases after the laughter drifts off, their foreheads touching in a rather intimate gesture.
“Wouldn’t be here if I didn’t, madam.”
She swats his arm playfully. “Tosser.”
“I could always call you sir, if you prefer-”
But the last bit of his sentence dies down as her fingers reach his cock and squeezes gently to warn him of the consequences of being too mouthy.
It doesn’t take long before Ianto is completely hard and resting in her palm. She thinks it’s a rather nice cock, definitely one of the better ones she’s seen in her life, and not just because she’s used to it either. Covered with a layer of downy hair, it’s long-ish and thick and growing more so as she curls her fingers around it.
She knows what he wants and gives it to him in a series of firm, long strokes that make his breath stutter when he exhales. But the way he remains so silent during sex is a slightly unnerving experience, because she’s used to Rhys moaning and cursing and even laughing when they have sex. Nevertheless, Ianto’s occasional gasps are rewarding, and she could tell from the way he is biting on his lower lip that he is probably close.
When she finally brings him off, his soft sigh against her shoulder makes it worth it.
---
She never thinks of it as cheating on Rhys, because she’s not in love with Ianto. Rather, it’s like one of those Torchwood side-jobs that aren’t exactly in the job description, but everyone expects you to do it anyways. Like setting the Hub alarm every night, or talking to the victims, or taking care of team members.
But reflecting on the rollercoaster that is Jack and Ianto’s relationship, Gwen wonders if the last one is one of the mandatory tasks after all.
---
Going to the Himalayas is a joke, a wild goose chase, because it’s the Himalayas, for God’s sake. She and the others know this, but they still choose to go. “Hope is better than nothing” seems to be the motto of Torchwood these days, so who is she to dissuade them of their motivation?
It’s cold there. Gwen thinks she should have expected this and is almost pathetically grateful that Ianto had, because those thermoses of coffee and winter camping gear are probably what saved the team from hypothermia on their first day when the snow storm blew in without warning. Even Owen is grateful, muttering an albeit reluctant thanks at Ianto after downing his fourth cup of hot coffee lined with whisky.
That’s how their first day passes, with all of them in the tent that Ianto has meticulously set up without Owen’s help, and since Ianto is actually proficient at building up tents, he is spared from the usual innuendo-filled jokes from the team.
It’s chilly inside, but with body heat and the equivalent of glowy alien magnesium sulfate, it quickly warms up. And once Ianto has handed out the hot drinks, everyone cozies up to their own packs, separated in their own thoughts and businesses.
---
SPROING
“Oi, guys,” Owen says. He looks around to locate the source of that sound. “What was that?”
“I thought it was you.” Tosh says, not lifting her eyes from the Rift-activity probe.
“Oh, bloody har har, it was not-”
He is cut off by Ianto, who strides past him in a blur of orange-and-navy parka to an inky spot in the snow some twenty meters from them.
“Tosh, could you come and see this?” Ianto asks, but is careful to keep his voice quiet lest they start an avalanche.
The team abandons their packs to join him beside a familiar looking jack-in-a-box, from which a distinct ticking sound can be heard.
“Is it just me, or does that look a bit like Jack?” Tosh whispers.
“Perhaps he got turned into one?” Gwen speculates.
“Maybe if you kiss it,” Owen tells Ianto, “it’ll spring back into the real Jack.”
“Just wait and let me look it over.” Tosh says, and brings the rift probe closer to the box-
---
“Da, dadum, dadadadum. Boom goes the weasel.” Owen hums under his breath later when they’re all digging the helicopter from under the snow.
---
(Filed under “Time, Waste of”)
There was a Jack-in-the-box. It exploded. We lived. I proposed an orgy that was shot down.
(Please refer to Ianto Jones’s report for further detail. I’m pretty sure I nagged him into writing a proper one.)
Dr. Owen Harper, 07/06/06
-
Unfortunately, we did not find Jack. However, the Himalayas are very nice at this time of the year, provided that one is fond of snow storms and tempestuous winds. Perhaps we should order some brochures of the Himalayas for the tourist office repertoire.
Ianto Jones, General Support, 08/06/06
-
We went to the Himalayas on a request from the highest authority, something about Abaddon and rift activity half way up the K-2. There, we found a jack-in-the-box that exploded and caused an avalanche. It was clear that someone set us up.
Overall, it was an unproductive mission; however, we did make the discovery that the combination of whisky and alien glow sticks makes a gas that smells like oranges.
Dr. Owen Harper claimed that it also caused psychosis, and pled such when the team threatened to throw him out of the tent for his numerous provocative comments.
Toshiko Sato, Technical Support, 09/06/06
-
Sometimes, she thinks that reading the team’s mission reports is the best part of this job.
---
Heat waves are rare in Cardiff, but when they do come, it’s with the force of multiple summers concentrated into one week. Torchwood fares better than the rest, but even in the underground hub they can still feel the heat. They fight it with ice cubes, cold beverages and alien devices, and the coffee machine has not been used in days. However, the effort is futile, because the oppressive heat has rendered them all lethargic and cranky, and has made for one of the most unproductive weeks in Torchwood she has ever seen.
So she’s thankful when Friday finally comes, because it means she can send everyone home early and hog all the air conditioning to herself while she finishes the end-of-week reports. Unsurprisingly, Ianto stays behind.
She thought he would come to her, as he has done some many times before, lingering at the side of her desk. But hours have passed since dinner and she has not even seen Ianto’s shadow.
Her fingers go to her earpiece. “Where are you?” She asks.
“The roof.” He replies. And the line goes dead.
That is indeed where she finds him, his back to her, looking pensively to the Cardiff skyline. He is still dressed in his immaculate suit, despite the stifling weather, and she is tempted to make him take it off, because even looking at him is making her sweat.
“Let’s go inside.” She says instead, and for good reason too. The air is stagnant up here, which is a sign that a storm, a large one, will be here soon. She can already feel the static in the air making her fingertips tingle.
“I’m fine.” Ianto replies. He still doesn’t turn around. “But you go down. No use in two of us becoming lightning rods.”
The dead humour in his tone makes her wince, because while she doesn’t know what brought this on, she does know that she’s losing control of it, fast.
“Ianto, come.” She puts as much authority in her voice as possible in hopes that he will listen, and it’s enough that he turns around to look at her again.
The dark rainclouds are roiling in behind him in an eerily fitting image of his mood. The winds are picking up as well, blowing every which way and tousling her hair. The storm is coming.
“Ianto, come with me.” She says again, this time with her hand extended towards him.
Perhaps they are held immobile by each other’s gaze, but neither of them makes a move. Instead, they stand there, quiet and stubborn, a contest of wills. Her arm feels leaden from being outstretched for so long, but she keeps it there, unwavering in an unspoken order to obey.
A crack of lightning. One two three four five six seven eigh- she counts. The thunder rumbles.
Another one lights up the sky. One two three four five six-
One two three-
That was it. The rain begins to fall, each drop crashing down with such force that her face stings from the impact. They are both drenched in seconds.
“Ianto!” She calls over the thunder and rain, but he doesn’t move. She’s lost this one. Dear God how badly she lost this one.
“Ianto please.” She says. She walks towards him steadily, projecting confidence that she does not feel. “Come with me.”
Water is running from his hair down his cheeks and droplets are falling from his chin. Her throat catches as she gets a closer look at him; it’s clear from his red-rimmed eyes that more than just rain has wet his face.
When she reaches him, she throws her arms around his neck and brings his forehead to hers. She is on her tiptoes and his head is bent downwards, but they stay like this, crying in the rain, the noise of water impacting with the ground hiding the sound of their sobs.
They’re wet all over, and she can no longer differentiate her tears from his or from the torrents of rain that’s drenching them relentlessly. They cry until they’ve run out of tears, until only dry sobs remained to wrack their bodies in irregular intervals. Through it all, they hang onto each other, pressed together so tightly that they could feel each individual beat of the other’s heart.
And when there’s nothing left to do but kiss, they do. Wet, slick mouths pressed together, different from all the other times before, simultaneously hurting and healing. Their fingers are tangled together, cool from the combination of rain and wind. It’s desperation at the most basic level when their tear at their clothes, hissing in impatience and the feel of harsh raindrops hitting newly uncovered skin.
Their clothing is strewn all over the roof, but she is not afraid of prying eyes or ears, because the storm hides everything they do and every sound they make. She manages to lose her clothing first due to Ianto’s quick fingers, the last article, her teeshirt, dropping at their feet. He has maneuvered her towards a platform in the middle of the roof, and he now pushes her back so that she is lying on top of it.
The rain forms rivulets that flow between her breasts and pools in her navel, and Ianto traces their paths with his tongue, hot and soft in contrast to the numbness of her skin, and she can’t help but tangle her fingers into his hair to tug him closer, lower.
He obliges, and the first touch of his tongue on her clitoris makes her fingers tighten even more in his hair. She is slightly apologetic, because his head must be aching from her brutal pulls, but she finds herself not caring when his teeth closes around her clit and she wails from the sensations shooting throughout her body.
She’s loud and wild in her pleasure, and she wonders distantly what everyone would say if they saw them like this, right now, with his head between her legs and her head thrown back, both of them shaking and trembling under the ruthless barrage of raindrops.
Two of his fingers slide into her without warning, then quickly withdraws again to repeat the motion. It’s not long before the two fingers become three, pumping in and out of her quickly, his agile tongue still working her clit skillfully. The blood pooling to her groin makes her feel heavy and needy and devastatingly empty, so she pulls his head away while scooting back slightly onto her tailbone.
Ianto’s lips are swollen and shiny with her juices and rain. His eyes are dark with lust when they meet hers, and the action of him licking his lips clean makes her shudder in apprehension. Deciding that she could wait no longer, she leans forward to undo his belt, taking the opportunity to close her mouth over his right nipple and bites.
She grins into his slick skin at the choked sound he makes, and continues to nibble at his chest as she pulls his drenched pants down his hips.
His cock is straining against the wet briefs; she could see it through the translucent white fabric. She takes the time to lick her way down his chest, the way he did for her, following the trail of matted, dark hair that leads below the elastic of his thin briefs that, when wet, leaves nothing to the imagination.
She takes the time to nuzzle his straining erection before she pulls down the last barrier and closes her mouth over the head of the straining cock. It’s warm and heavy on her tongue, smooth and slick from the rain and precome, and she thinks that the taste of rainwater and salt will forever be embedded into her sense memory.
Ianto is trying to control himself, she knows this by his tense back muscles and clenched hands tangled in his discarded shirt. Trying not to huff an impatient sigh, she gropes for his hands and guides them to her head, telling him without words that he can let go, that this is a mutual taking of pleasure.
It seems that he gets the idea when he strokes her wet locks and pushes gently into her mouth, slow careful, and she does sigh this time, albeit for different reasons, and the warm puff of air around his cock causes Ianto to push further into her mouth. Breathing is tricky with the heavy downpour, but with a little maneuvering and practice, she manages to not suffocate, and instead enjoy the breathy gasps Ianto makes.
Sex is messy; good sex is even messier. She thinks that this is probably in the latter category, if the amount of saliva and rainwater running down her chin is anything to go by. But the feeling of a firm cock in her mouth is such a turn on that she doesn’t mind the soreness setting into her jaw and the uncomfortable bumps at the back of her throat.
She can tell from the increasingly salty taste in her mouth that Ianto is probably close, so she pulls away after a last lick to rummage her pockets for a condom. It’s not long before she gets it onto Ianto, and it takes even less time to push him onto his back and sink onto his cock.
It’s a slight stretch, because Ianto is by no means small, and she knows that she’ll be sore after this is over. But she continues, because his cock is firm and hard and waiting for her to impale herself on it and, god, it feels so bloody amazing.
Ianto’s hands are settled on her hips to guide her, and they have synched it so that he is pushing up as she pushes down. It all feels so good that she does not want to stop, ever, even if the concrete is rough on her knees as she rides him. Luckily, Ianto is thoughtful in all that he does, and he shifts slightly to get their clothes under them so they do not end up with skinned body parts in questionable places.
They have a brisk pace built up, and their bodies are colliding and slapping together as relentlessly as the rain is falling from the sky. When Ianto shifts her slightly before pushing in deeper, his cock makes contact with a particular spot that makes her see white stars and scream into the dark sky above them.
She can no longer tell if it is raining, because everything is so slick and so hot that surely raindrops are evaporating as soon as they hit her skin. The blood pounding in her ears sound like thunder, and the light show that Ianto is providing her with every push looks and feels like lighting.
They’re close, they are so close that she can see Ianto straining to hold back. It’s a subtle show of courtesy that makes her smile when she reaches her climax with the taste of electricity on the back of her tongue. She clenches tightly around him as she rides the waves, her fingers digging into his shoulders so hard that they will leave bruises on his pale skin
And for the first time since this affair began, Ianto gasps her name when he comes.
Jack is right, she will think later, everything does sound better with those Welsh vowels.
---
When Jack comes back, she shows him how Torchwood Three is now hers; how all the team are working harmoniously together, how they all got by fine without him there to guide them. She tells him how they returned to their jobs to save people, regardless of whether their leader had run off without a word and abandoned them.
She doesn’t show him the scars she’s gotten, the scars they’ve all gotten in the time he was absent. She doesn’t tell him of Tosh’s crying, of Owen’s nightly bar brawls, or of Ianto almost dying. She especially doesn’t tell him of that month right after he left, when they had to bury thirteen school children because the team had fallen apart during a mission.
--
“I came back for you.” Jack says, “All of you.”
And she hides a smile because there’s hope for them, all of them, again.
--
Of course, with Jack back, one of the things she hands over along with her temporary promotion is this thing with Ianto. This is another thing that she would never tell Jack, because if he needs to know, Ianto will tell him, and Ianto is a very good judge of imperative information.
When one day, three months later, she catches Jack looking speculatively at her, she knows that Ianto has told. Confident that she’s safe in her position at Torchwood, she doesn’t worry about her job, or of Rhys finding out, or of further tension between her and Jack because, to be honest, there’s always tension between them.
Surprisingly, what she is worried about is Ianto, whom she finds herself thinking about more than she had last year; but she puts this down to the protectiveness she has gained when he was under her responsibility, and thinks nothing more of it.
---
FIN
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Okay. Maybe this isn't the way to ask for one...but I am looking for a beta, since English is not my first language and I've only been speaking it for a few years.
I don't post that often, perhaps only once a month, so it wouldn't be much work. If you're interested, please comment. Thank you! :)