Call of the Search for Your Soul (Jack/Ianto)
Title: Call Off the Search for Your Soul
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto, team (mentioned)
Rating: PG-15
Summary: Ianto Jones, a newly-turned incubus, is struggling with what his new life involves and Jack turns out to be just the man he needs.
Author's Notes: Pretty much what it says on the tin. It was written by a prompt on tumblr and it requested as Ianto as an incubus with basically zero life experience who can't bring himself to find a victim. I hope you enjoy it and - because it's a tad different from what I usually write, I'd love to hear what you think!
Also posted on FF.net and AO3.
As Ianto made his way through the writhing crowds on the dance floor, he frowned and cursed himself for the hundredth time for his indecisiveness. This was ridiculous. He knew it was. What kind of person could have the balls to sell his soul to eternal damnation but not to chat someone up in a bar?
Gwen - and she was supposedly an expert, given how long she’d lived as a succubus - had told him that it’d be easy and that he was good-looking and that that alone was enough to charm almost anyone and take them home. Owen had then asked how exactly Ianto had managed to not sleep with anyone for the first twenty years of his life, and he’d told him the truth - that he’d been homeschooled and focusing on his studies, to which the other man had laughed. ‘What’s that gonna do for you in the future,’ he’d taunted, ‘all that effort gone to hell now. Get it? Hell.’
Owen was a vampire. Ianto did not like him very much.
It wasn’t that he had anything against vampires in general - Tosh was one, and she was great - but he generally tried to stay away from him when he could. The three of them lived in a large house that Gwen had inherited from her ‘grandmother’ Gwyneth (that had been in fact herself back in Victorian times when she’d sold her soul) and Ianto had recently joined the household.
He kind of wished he’d chosen to be a vampire as well. The demon he’d made a deal with had painted the life of an incubus as something fascinatingly glamorous, but Ianto had yet to get there. Sex wasn’t the only problem he had with it; it was also the fact that he’d take away a year or two from the person’s life with as much as a blowjob, and that was one of the things that hadn’t been mentioned in the contract. He didn’t want to be a murderer, but he knew that it was this or dying from starvation. He couldn’t control how much he took - and it only got worse as he got hungrier - and it was making things all the more difficult.
Gwen had let him share her energy in the beginning, but he knew that he had to make a move. This bar, incidentally, seemed like the perfect place and he approached his victim with as much determination as he could find in himself.
“Hello,” he said as he took the chair next to the other man’s, bringing out his best smile.
Oh, but he was gorgeous.
A pair of stormy blue eyes assessed him from head to toe and then his potential dinner returned the smile. “Hello, beautiful,” he drawled and Ianto felt himself flush all the way to his hairline.
“What are you having?” He asked, nodding to the man’s glass.
The grin broadened and Ianto braced himself for another openly appreciative remark. That had to be a first, he thought: an incubus who doesn’t like innuendo. “Sex on the beach.”
“Sounds like quite the experience,” Ianto said before he’d managed to get flustered and then cringed. Smooth, Jones. Very smooth.
Much to his relief, the man didn’t seem to find the remark off-putting. “It’s too glorified,” he quipped, “too much sand on too many places that are usually hard to reach.”
This was too easy. “It usually takes too, huh?”
“I’ve found it to be so, yes,” the man purred, voice intentionally deep and suggestive. “Through some very enjoyable exploration, I might add.”
He could work with that. Ianto thanked whatever higher power for picking out the right person, even though he was quite sure that it had been pure luck. With his new... condition, he could safely concede that higher powers didn’t give much of a shit about him any longer.
“I’m Ianto,” he said, extending a hand and then relishing in the small spike of energy that surged through him just from the man’s strong grip. Finally.
“Jack,” he returned. “It’s a pleasure.”
The poor sod had no idea.
o.O.o
Two hours later, Ianto was lying in his bed back in his new home with Jack at his side, buzzing with energy. He felt a bit as if he was on drugs; his entire body bursting with the life inside him. Gwen had told him it’d be something like that, but she hadn’t described it as anything so intense, but who could tell? Maybe it was different for men.
“That was amazing,” Jack commented and Ianto gave him a bright smile. He was immensely relieved of how well the whole ordeal had went given his complete and utter lack of experience in those matters. “But I feel a bit... weird.”
Ianto's good mood started to fade as he realised what that meant. “Well, it’s four in the morning,” he reasoned. “Maybe you’ve slept too little last night.”
“It’s not that,” Jack murmured, sitting up in Ianto's frankly enormous bed. “You seem fine, though.”
He sounded as if he was pretty sure Ianto was somehow to blame for both their states and - mostly because he really was - the incubus tried to distract him. “I take my vitamins regularly.”
Jack ignored him. “Wait a second,” he drawled. “Are we in Whitchurch?”
“You were in the cab all the way here and you didn’t notice?” Ianto asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I was otherwise occupied,” Jack shot back. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I wasn’t aware we were on a subject,” Ianto retorted. “What do you have against Whitchurch?”
“We’ve been getting signals about this place recently,” Jack said thoughtfully. “A boy went missing two months ago - Ianto Jones - and then people reported to have seen someone looking very much like him come in and out of the ‘big brown house around the corner’.”
“Are you with the police?” Ianto tried to keep his voice as calm as possible. He couldn’t be sure who had reported him missing - after all, a major wipe-out of a lot of people’s memories had been his request from the deal.
“You wish,” Jack growled and, before Ianto could react, he’d reached for his coat and pulled out a gun before pressing him down into the bed. “Who are you and what have you done with Ianto Jones?”
“Nothing, I swear,” Ianto gasped, his eyes straying down to where the weapon was pressed against his naked chest. “It’s me; I’m Ianto Jones.”
“Like hell you are,” Jack spat out. “Do you know how many cases exactly like yours I’ve covered? Dead people or ones who have gone missing are suddenly walking about with no explanation whatsoever and they’re always oh so innocent when we get them. Well, guess what: not this time. What are you, some kind of energy-fuelled alien, or-”
“Alien?!” Ianto's voice cracked from both the incredulousness and the panic. “Have you gone mental?”
“You can drop it now.” The gun pressed even more firmly against him. “Well? What are you?”
“I’m Ianto Jones!” He snapped and when the other man gave another snort of disbelief, he added helplessly, “Does the word ‘incubus’ ring a bell to you?”
Jack stared at him for a moment, looking too stunned to react. “An incubus?” He echoed and it was clearly his turn to be incredulous. “Of all the bullshit...”
“It’s true,” Ianto pressed. He could remember all the stories he’d heard behind closed doors; of the Torchwood Institute and how they dealt with everything that wasn’t easily explained or believed. Of course, most people’s minds tended to jump towards aliens. “I am and I’m still a bit new to it, but that’s what it is. And you were right - I do feed on energy. Sexual energy, more specifically, any sort of it. And in exchange...”
“Yes,” Jack interrupted. “I know the deal. You take a few years of my life; that’s why I felt so exhausted. But I’m immortal. Nothing like you,” he added when Ianto made to ask. “It was an accident. Other than that, I’m as human as you are. Or, well, as you were.”
“Oh!” Ianto was pleasantly surprised for a moment before reality hit him again. No one knew what Torchwood did with the so-called aliens, but no one ever saw them again. “Please don’t lock me up!”
“I won’t,” Jack soothed. “You’re doing it to survive; I understand. And if you do it in small quantities, it won’t even be noticeable. And, if you’d like...” Ianto had looked down at the implications of just how much damage he was bound to cause for the rest of time and Jack put a finger under his chin to force him to look him in the eye. “...I’d be more than happy to provide all the energy you need, when you need it.”
Ianto felt his lips stretch into a smile. He could definitely see this working. “That sounds like a mutually satisfactory arrangement, don’t you think?” he asked and Jack gave a small laugh before kissing him soundly.
Ianto practically purred at the energy he could still feel coursing through him. He wasn’t hungry anymore, but it was still heavenly and now he knew why - the man was an unlimited source of life and he was more than happy to share it when the need arose. “Oh, God, yes,” he breathed. “More, please.”
And just like that, the weapon was discarded to the side - Ianto could hear its clatter on the wooden floor - and Jack was all over him once more and for the first time in nearly three months, Ianto truly felt alive.
Fandom: Torchwood
Pairing/Characters: Jack/Ianto, team (mentioned)
Rating: PG-15
Summary: Ianto Jones, a newly-turned incubus, is struggling with what his new life involves and Jack turns out to be just the man he needs.
Author's Notes: Pretty much what it says on the tin. It was written by a prompt on tumblr and it requested as Ianto as an incubus with basically zero life experience who can't bring himself to find a victim. I hope you enjoy it and - because it's a tad different from what I usually write, I'd love to hear what you think!
Also posted on FF.net and AO3.
As Ianto made his way through the writhing crowds on the dance floor, he frowned and cursed himself for the hundredth time for his indecisiveness. This was ridiculous. He knew it was. What kind of person could have the balls to sell his soul to eternal damnation but not to chat someone up in a bar?
Gwen - and she was supposedly an expert, given how long she’d lived as a succubus - had told him that it’d be easy and that he was good-looking and that that alone was enough to charm almost anyone and take them home. Owen had then asked how exactly Ianto had managed to not sleep with anyone for the first twenty years of his life, and he’d told him the truth - that he’d been homeschooled and focusing on his studies, to which the other man had laughed. ‘What’s that gonna do for you in the future,’ he’d taunted, ‘all that effort gone to hell now. Get it? Hell.’
Owen was a vampire. Ianto did not like him very much.
It wasn’t that he had anything against vampires in general - Tosh was one, and she was great - but he generally tried to stay away from him when he could. The three of them lived in a large house that Gwen had inherited from her ‘grandmother’ Gwyneth (that had been in fact herself back in Victorian times when she’d sold her soul) and Ianto had recently joined the household.
He kind of wished he’d chosen to be a vampire as well. The demon he’d made a deal with had painted the life of an incubus as something fascinatingly glamorous, but Ianto had yet to get there. Sex wasn’t the only problem he had with it; it was also the fact that he’d take away a year or two from the person’s life with as much as a blowjob, and that was one of the things that hadn’t been mentioned in the contract. He didn’t want to be a murderer, but he knew that it was this or dying from starvation. He couldn’t control how much he took - and it only got worse as he got hungrier - and it was making things all the more difficult.
Gwen had let him share her energy in the beginning, but he knew that he had to make a move. This bar, incidentally, seemed like the perfect place and he approached his victim with as much determination as he could find in himself.
“Hello,” he said as he took the chair next to the other man’s, bringing out his best smile.
Oh, but he was gorgeous.
A pair of stormy blue eyes assessed him from head to toe and then his potential dinner returned the smile. “Hello, beautiful,” he drawled and Ianto felt himself flush all the way to his hairline.
“What are you having?” He asked, nodding to the man’s glass.
The grin broadened and Ianto braced himself for another openly appreciative remark. That had to be a first, he thought: an incubus who doesn’t like innuendo. “Sex on the beach.”
“Sounds like quite the experience,” Ianto said before he’d managed to get flustered and then cringed. Smooth, Jones. Very smooth.
Much to his relief, the man didn’t seem to find the remark off-putting. “It’s too glorified,” he quipped, “too much sand on too many places that are usually hard to reach.”
This was too easy. “It usually takes too, huh?”
“I’ve found it to be so, yes,” the man purred, voice intentionally deep and suggestive. “Through some very enjoyable exploration, I might add.”
He could work with that. Ianto thanked whatever higher power for picking out the right person, even though he was quite sure that it had been pure luck. With his new... condition, he could safely concede that higher powers didn’t give much of a shit about him any longer.
“I’m Ianto,” he said, extending a hand and then relishing in the small spike of energy that surged through him just from the man’s strong grip. Finally.
“Jack,” he returned. “It’s a pleasure.”
The poor sod had no idea.
o.O.o
Two hours later, Ianto was lying in his bed back in his new home with Jack at his side, buzzing with energy. He felt a bit as if he was on drugs; his entire body bursting with the life inside him. Gwen had told him it’d be something like that, but she hadn’t described it as anything so intense, but who could tell? Maybe it was different for men.
“That was amazing,” Jack commented and Ianto gave him a bright smile. He was immensely relieved of how well the whole ordeal had went given his complete and utter lack of experience in those matters. “But I feel a bit... weird.”
Ianto's good mood started to fade as he realised what that meant. “Well, it’s four in the morning,” he reasoned. “Maybe you’ve slept too little last night.”
“It’s not that,” Jack murmured, sitting up in Ianto's frankly enormous bed. “You seem fine, though.”
He sounded as if he was pretty sure Ianto was somehow to blame for both their states and - mostly because he really was - the incubus tried to distract him. “I take my vitamins regularly.”
Jack ignored him. “Wait a second,” he drawled. “Are we in Whitchurch?”
“You were in the cab all the way here and you didn’t notice?” Ianto asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I was otherwise occupied,” Jack shot back. “Don’t change the subject.”
“I wasn’t aware we were on a subject,” Ianto retorted. “What do you have against Whitchurch?”
“We’ve been getting signals about this place recently,” Jack said thoughtfully. “A boy went missing two months ago - Ianto Jones - and then people reported to have seen someone looking very much like him come in and out of the ‘big brown house around the corner’.”
“Are you with the police?” Ianto tried to keep his voice as calm as possible. He couldn’t be sure who had reported him missing - after all, a major wipe-out of a lot of people’s memories had been his request from the deal.
“You wish,” Jack growled and, before Ianto could react, he’d reached for his coat and pulled out a gun before pressing him down into the bed. “Who are you and what have you done with Ianto Jones?”
“Nothing, I swear,” Ianto gasped, his eyes straying down to where the weapon was pressed against his naked chest. “It’s me; I’m Ianto Jones.”
“Like hell you are,” Jack spat out. “Do you know how many cases exactly like yours I’ve covered? Dead people or ones who have gone missing are suddenly walking about with no explanation whatsoever and they’re always oh so innocent when we get them. Well, guess what: not this time. What are you, some kind of energy-fuelled alien, or-”
“Alien?!” Ianto's voice cracked from both the incredulousness and the panic. “Have you gone mental?”
“You can drop it now.” The gun pressed even more firmly against him. “Well? What are you?”
“I’m Ianto Jones!” He snapped and when the other man gave another snort of disbelief, he added helplessly, “Does the word ‘incubus’ ring a bell to you?”
Jack stared at him for a moment, looking too stunned to react. “An incubus?” He echoed and it was clearly his turn to be incredulous. “Of all the bullshit...”
“It’s true,” Ianto pressed. He could remember all the stories he’d heard behind closed doors; of the Torchwood Institute and how they dealt with everything that wasn’t easily explained or believed. Of course, most people’s minds tended to jump towards aliens. “I am and I’m still a bit new to it, but that’s what it is. And you were right - I do feed on energy. Sexual energy, more specifically, any sort of it. And in exchange...”
“Yes,” Jack interrupted. “I know the deal. You take a few years of my life; that’s why I felt so exhausted. But I’m immortal. Nothing like you,” he added when Ianto made to ask. “It was an accident. Other than that, I’m as human as you are. Or, well, as you were.”
“Oh!” Ianto was pleasantly surprised for a moment before reality hit him again. No one knew what Torchwood did with the so-called aliens, but no one ever saw them again. “Please don’t lock me up!”
“I won’t,” Jack soothed. “You’re doing it to survive; I understand. And if you do it in small quantities, it won’t even be noticeable. And, if you’d like...” Ianto had looked down at the implications of just how much damage he was bound to cause for the rest of time and Jack put a finger under his chin to force him to look him in the eye. “...I’d be more than happy to provide all the energy you need, when you need it.”
Ianto felt his lips stretch into a smile. He could definitely see this working. “That sounds like a mutually satisfactory arrangement, don’t you think?” he asked and Jack gave a small laugh before kissing him soundly.
Ianto practically purred at the energy he could still feel coursing through him. He wasn’t hungry anymore, but it was still heavenly and now he knew why - the man was an unlimited source of life and he was more than happy to share it when the need arose. “Oh, God, yes,” he breathed. “More, please.”
And just like that, the weapon was discarded to the side - Ianto could hear its clatter on the wooden floor - and Jack was all over him once more and for the first time in nearly three months, Ianto truly felt alive.