Porn Battle Ficlets
These were written for Porn Battle XII, which is still going strong. Unbetaed. The only happy one is the femslash.
Title: Repulsion
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto/John
Rating: NC-17
Summary: They are like magnets.
Prompt: jealousy
***
Someone will be alone when this is finished. Jack would be happy in a stable three-part system, regardless of the pieces, but John and Ianto are like magnets: attracted to the same centre, repelled when too close. Ianto's skin crawls with an equal mixture of horror and desire as John's lips mark his shoulders and the delicate ridges of his spine. Jack is warm under him, a burbling laugh in every breath he takes between kisses, a sensitive and taut friction as he glides their dicks together in one large hand.
John's voice is lower, dirtier, begging imprecations in a language Ianto doesn't speak but one that sends Jack's eyes fluttering in even greater arousal. He lets go of Ianto, reaches down between them to grab for John's, rubbing him between Ianto's thighs.
Jack says something Ianto doesn't understand. Ianto kisses the words away, and then Jack says, "Do you feel him? Tell me what you feel."
"He's hard between my legs," Ianto growls in Welsh. "But not as hard as you."
Jack thrusts his hips, rubbing off on Ianto's belly, balls hitting John's cock and making him bite down on Ianto's back. Ianto twists in pain, trying to dislodge the unwanted interloper. Jack wants John here, wants them both. Ianto wants Jack.
He sticks to Welsh, seducing Jack via his ears. "I want to fuck you." Jack gasps as Ianto reaches between them, rubbing a dry thumb against Jack's hole.
"Both of you," Jack says in English. "Inside me. I can take it."
"Oh yeah," John says, rolling off Ianto like a rug. He slaps Ianto's arse. "Move, Eye Candy."
The repulsion grows. He doesn't want John there, doesn't want the feel of his cock slithering against Ianto's as they push Jack past his boundaries together. But Jack is pleading. He nods.
Jack scoots his body to the end of the bed, gleeful. John's got the lube ready, unmindful of splatters and drips as he thrusts three wet fingers inside Jack without any preamble. Jack howls, and Ianto almost punches John, but Jack is grasping the sheets the same way he always does when Ianto fists him, or scalds him with hot wax, or draws slender lines of blood with the sharpest knife they own. Jack is intimately acquainted with pain-pleasure, loves it.
John's hand is thick inside Jack's arse. Jesus, it's hot to watch. Ianto drips lube onto himself, but only risks a quick tug or he'll pop.
"Now!" Jack demands, voice breaking, and John doesn't hesitate before climbing atop him like a spider, thrusting in with old familiarity. Ianto watches them, mouth dry as Jack's hole accepts John's cock greedily, beautifully. Is this what they look like when Ianto is fucking him? When Jack fucks him back? Tight and spread, thighs twitching with the muscle control holding them in place?
He steps up behind John's bony arse, grabs onto it as John pounds quickly into Jack whilst muttering, "Yeah, oh yeah, fuck." They were lovers for years, John knows Jack's body better then Ianto does, but instead of drawing out Jack's pleasure, John is seeking his own.
When John pulls out for another thrust, Ianto tugs on him, presses his own cock with his. The lube makes John's cock oily like a worm and hard to grasp as they shove into Jack with one motion.
Jack's groaning and sweating, squirming as John and Ianto match their pace. "More" is the only word Ianto understands, and he obliges, even as his knees complain at the low angle. Jack has never been this tight, never felt so good. Sparks race behind Ianto's eyes at the pressure, at the joined rhythm, at the stench of John's sweat dripping down his face and back, sticking Ianto to him. Jack is gorgeous spread out beneath them, his arsehole hot and stretched around them. John's head goes back and Ianto pays him back for the earlier bite by grabbing his throat with his own teeth. John squeals and his hips stutter, bumping Ianto hard as he jerks through his sudden orgasm, his come spurting inside Jack and over Ianto's cock.
Oh God, it's wet and tight, and John keeps thrusting, and Ianto's balls are so hard they're going to explode.
Jack's hand works over his own cock, slicking fast as he whines. Ianto can last until he comes, can hold this moment a little longer. Then John grabs Jack's cock and squeezes and Jack's entire body convulses.
Ianto doesn't see much after that, trapped inside the fire burning in his head, in his cock and balls. He shouts as he comes, and it's always good with Jack, always. The limp-body sensation is good, as the pleasure drains out of him. The blissful expression on Jack's face is good. The sight of Jack's arse leaking come is exceptionally good.
If Ianto is going to be the one who's alone after this, he's going to take these pieces with him. He throws himself down on the bed beside Jack, ignores that John does the same on the other side. Jack is their centre.
"Good, yeah?" John asks, in echo of Ianto's thoughts.
"Oh yeah," Jack says. He turns his head to see Ianto. "You okay?"
"Fine."
"I'm better than fine," John says, taking hold of Jack's chin and pulling him in for a wet kiss. This is a display. Ianto understands and ignores him.
"I'd love to see you two go at it when you get your breath back," says Jack, breaking the kiss.
"No," Ianto says, as John says, "Yes."
Jack grins. There's a shutter behind his eyes that Ianto almost misses. He'll get his way, Ianto knows. John's body will drape over his, fucking into him as Jack sits back amongst the pillows, masturbating to the sight. Jack will file it away as his own personal porn for later, capturing the line of Ianto's back and the cries he makes as John teases his prostate. Jack will close his eyes hundreds of years from now, and see John's mouth close over Ianto's cock, licking and sucking, head bobbing to Jack's direction. He will see Ianto try to push away from John as the magnetic poles collide, and he will replay the centuries-old porn, remembering them both with the stroke of his own hand.
"Ask me in an hour," Ianto says, and closes his eyes, feeling Jack's long body stretched warm against him. He lets Jack feel his heartbeat, lets him breathe Ianto's breath. Jack's throat makes a happy noise that's practically a purr. John yawns loudly and throws an arm over Jack. Arse.
Ianto is going to let the psychotic little monster fuck him, because someone is going to be alone when this is finished, and it's going to be Jack.
***
Title: What to Expect
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairing: Ianto/Tosh (team mentioned)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: She wants so much.
Prompts: apartment, pregnant, remember, computer, suit
***
Her belly is growing every day. Toshiko draws a hand over the swell, watching her knees vanish, and then her feet, hidden by the stretched fabric covering her abdomen. Maternity clothes can be traded for, handed around. Pregnancy vitamins are at a premium, though, and after tomorrow, she'll be out of the ones Ianto stole last month. When rations are tight, it's the best chance she can give the baby. He says he'll try to find more. She says she'd rather he not draw attention to himself and get killed.
Like most of their life together, it's a rough compromise.
His mouth following the movement of her fingers is a different kind of compromise, blowing warmth onto her skin through her clothes. He's got a half-smile, the one that's a little bit devil, a little bit angel, rounding over her like a moon.
"Is she moving?"
"No."
Ianto makes a noise, which vibrates through her. He likes to kiss her belly when the baby is kicking. She likes that the baby will be born knowing the deep cadence of his voice. They've told the other refugees in this camp that they've been married for three years, that her name is Miyu and his David, that they are excited to bring new life into a place that's known so much death. She never says Owen's name, though she dreams about him, and hopes his daughter will have his eyes. Given the lack of medical care available to her, she expects not to live long enough to find out. It's a thing they don't discuss, like the rumours that Jack is being held on the Master's ship, or their fears that Gwen is long dead.
Ianto's lips are warmer as he mouths the skin beneath her dress. His left hand rests on her thigh, not moving, while his eyes ask her permission. They are separated from the other families in this flat by a blanket stretched across the room; a battered old sofa shoved up against a wall serves as their bed, sitting room, office, and soon their nursery. She can hear voices not five feet away going about the business of living in hell. Privacy is a state of mind.
She nods. The hand tickles down to the hem of her dress, and presses up against the cotton of her knickers, rubbing rasping circles against her. His right hand coaxes her knees apart.
His mouth is against her belly, but his eyes are on her face. "Tell me what you want."
I want Owen here. I want my baby born safe in a world where we don't huddle in terror from mechanical monster balls. I want an hour on a computer to write a program to take the bastards down. I want Jack to peel you out of a suit and take away the darkness in your eyes you think I can't see. I want my life back and yours as well, and our friends alive.
"Love me."
The hem of her skirt comes up, to rest primly on her belly. Ianto grinds the heel of his hand against her, pushing her knees up to either side of him.
When his mouth makes contact with her knickers, she bites her lip, and the devil smile is back. The same hot, wet breath as before is soaking her panties. Tosh trembles as the flat of his tongue wets her further.
Around them, life goes on in the flat. Someone is doing the washing up. Someone else is helping a child read a book. In the room next to them, she can hear the steady thump of a bed shaking. The noises are dull background to the feel of his tongue teasing her without undressing her.
He slides beside her body, not over the hump of her, and they kiss gently. His cock is hard and his voice is feather-light: "If you can come without making a sound, I'll get you off twice."
It's a challenge and a dare and it sends fluid in a rush to her cunt as she accepts the terms. His hands find her knickers and work the sodden material off her body to drop on the tiny spot of floor that's theirs. He kisses his way back down her body, and now his tongue has plenty of access, lapping at her, nipping shocks into her. Her labia are blood-swollen and thick as he sucks one side into his mouth, the prickle of his beard shooting the tiniest pricks of pain against her vulva. One finger slides between her outer lips, seeking the tender places inside her vagina, stroking each nerve.
His thumb and the tip of his tongue flick her clitoris at the same moment, and Tosh has to bite her own hand to keep from crying out. Ianto alternates, rocking his hand and flipping his tongue until she's at the edge, until she needs him.
Mary did this, holding her for almost an hour with her fingers and her tongue and her dirty laughs. Owen never did, giving into fast desire in the brief times they shared while Ianto and Gwen pretended not to hear.
She yanks on Ianto's hair, a silent plea to climb up here and fuck her hard. She feels rather than hears his hot chuckle. He pushes in another finger while he sucks the tip of her clit into his mouth, then blows cool air across it. The cold is just what she needs, bursting across her as she keeps herself from thrashing, from rocking him, from making a single noise in her climax. She can't stop the tremors, won't stop him milking them from her with gentle licks.
The baby kicks. Does she like the waves passing through her home? Is she frightened?
Tosh grabs Ianto's hand, the one wet with her, and places it over her belly so he can feel the movement. His eyes burn when the baby kicks under his hand. Tosh knows this part, can unzip him without making a sound, can roll to her side and let him slide up behind her in the narrow sofa. She's so wet, he slides in with ease, and now they must thrust together without moving. It's hard, but oh so worth it as he fills her again and again.
The hand that's trapped under her body holds onto her belly. The other parts her legs, rubbing her clit as he rocks into her, as he pulls out and slams back in. The sofa starts to wiggle.
The voices around them don't change. Maybe they're ignoring Tosh and Ianto as they fuck, maybe they're listening in for gasping breaths held tight, for the whine he makes into her hair, hand fumbling hard to get her off again. Her fingers join his, seeking with ease the right spot.
She wants to hear his voice, wants him to mutter promises and dirty words. She wants to remember what it's like to be with someone she craves instead of someone she loves as a friend. She wants a long, hot bath, and candlelight, and a wedding in the spring.
This has to be enough.
Her fingertip pushes her clit and she convulses in pleasure for a second time. His thrusts never stop. She doesn't know who he's pretending she is, if she's his Jack or his Lisa or some fantasy bimbo, but his arm is tight across her abdomen as he comes, making her sticky and wet and replete.
Before she can relax, there's a high whirring noise, and an insane giggle. The voices in the room stop abruptly as Toclafane zoom in a pack past their high window, bent on chasing someone on the street below them.
She feels Ianto tense behind her, can almost read his thoughts, his desire to go down to those streets and die fighting as uselessly as Owen did, as Gwen surely did when she broke away from them to look for Rhys amongst the ruins.
"Promise me," she says, too quiet for the Toclafane, no doubt loud enough for their flatmates to hear.
He squeezes her. "I won't leave you."
"Promise me that when you go to fight them anyway, that you won't stop me from coming with you." They'll both die. Her baby will die. But maybe someone else can live another day.
"Tosh."
"Promise."
He's silent until the mad balls are gone, until he is soft and withdrawn from her and tucked away, until the voices restart their muttering outside the tattered blanket of their privacy.
"I promise."
***
Title: Misapprehension
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters/Pairing: Jenny/Vastra
Rating: R
Summary: Jenny is happy to be wrong.
Prompts: swords, tongue, green, scales, taste
***
Jenny thought swords were used for men to surround and bully and take, thought Vastra would leverage her power at the tip of a blade.
Jenny thought the scales would be slimy, would cause shivers of revulsion to consume her the first time Vastra drew her hand down the soft skin of Jenny's back.
Jenny thought "green" was the colour meat turned when it rotted and she had to choke it down anyway if she intended to survive, thought Vastra would taste of defilement and spoilage.
Jenny thought her best prospect would be as some man's possession, subject to his whims even as she closed her eyes against his gross needs.
The swords buy them peace, and freedom, and protection. Jenny's arms and legs ache each night after her daily work and her hours of training. She is no longer afraid of the steel, though there's a resigned sigh when she knows it will be time to practise thrusts and parries.
The scales are dry and smooth, sliding under Jenny's hand like rough silk. Vastra writhes when Jenny massages her belly, and her scaly hands are as tender as a baby's, holding Jenny's face.
The green skin under Jenny's kisses tastes of smoke from the oil lamps, tastes of leather from Madame's breeches, undulates like the green sea Jenny spied once from a distance. The flavour of the sweat between Vastra's breasts is sealike, salty, and the moist, hidden place between Vastra's thighs reminds her of green apples, tartsweet and juicy on her lips. Jenny drinks her like cider, worships her like the ocean. Her turn will come to lie spread while Vastra's long tongue undoes her slowly. She belongs to her mistress, heart and soul, and is joyful in the surrender.
Jenny doesn't mind being wrong, not when this feels so right.
***
Title: What We Take From the Wreckage
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "He's not some puppy who messed on the floor and just needs training up." Obligatory post-Cyberwoman fic.
Warning: dubcon, darkfic
Prompts: blow job, punishment, cells, first time
***
Jack watched the dormant figure on the CCTV. Ianto was riding the high on whatever sedative Owen had injected him with, and had been left to sleep it off in the cells. As a sop to Gwen, the door had been left open.
"He's not a threat to anyone but himself," she'd said, hands balled into fists at her hips.
Toshiko hadn't spoken, but nodded agreement. She'd also nodded when Owen had sworn and called Ianto an idiot. Tosh wasn't taking sides, she just wanted this to be in the past already instead of needing to be cleaned up, disassembled, destroyed, and hidden away behind layers of subterfuge and lies.
Dammit.
Someone entered his office without knocking. Jack didn't turn to look at Gwen. "I thought you went home."
"In a minute." It was Owen.
"Need something?"
Owen joined him by the monitor. "What are you going to do with him?"
"I'll let you know."
"You know what you ought to do."
No, he didn't. That was the issue. Jack rarely knew what he ought to do and relied on instinct, intuition, and when those failed, luck to see him through. His initial instincts and intuition had been set aside when he'd brought Ianto on board, and it was sheer luck none of his team had been killed during the Cyberman's rampage.
"I'm sure you have a suggestion." Jack hadn't asked for opinions. This wasn't a democracy. Asking a group of terrified, angry people how to deal with their colleague who'd nearly killed them and destroyed the planet wouldn't give Jack the answer he needed, and if he did kill Ianto, the others would carry that on their consciences forever.
"I do. You won't like it."
"Assume I'm not looking for advice."
"Like I care." Owen was going to suggest a bullet. Hell, Owen might offer to do it, and Jack couldn't take him up on that, couldn't shirk his responsibility. "Retcon him and send him away."
Jack sat back, watching the screen. "Why?"
"Because shooting him would only make you feel better for about ten minutes."
"It'd be a good ten minutes."
"Yeah, but then you'll hate yourself and take it out on us."
"We could keep him on."
Owen laughed, stopping only when he saw Jack wasn't joining him. "No. He's not some puppy who messed on the floor and just needs training up. He's a traumatised kid who wasn't smart enough to walk away when he had the chance. We can't trust him if he stays, and killing him would be vengeance, not justice."
Vengeance sounded good. Jack wasn't going to forget dying at the hands of that Cyberman in a hurry, wouldn't forget the sight of Gwen strapped down in the machine, or the Frankenstein-stitching in that poor girl's forehead. All that went at Ianto's feet. Letting him forget and walk away didn't seem fair.
"I'll deal with it."
"If you shoot him, I'm not cleaning it up." Owen turned and walked out.
Jack followed Owen with the cameras, out of the Hub, out to his car, out into the streets. When he was well away, and the Hub was empty except for the low moans of the injured pterodactyl, Jack emerged from his office and walked slowly down to the cells.
He pulled up a chair and sat outside the open door. The cameras hadn't picked up on the bloodstains, or the dark circles under the eyes. Ianto was thinner than when he'd started two months ago. Jack had dismissed this in the back of his head: Torchwood Three wasn't the soft desk job Torchwood One had been. Lack of sleep, a poor diet, and shoving all his efforts down the well of keeping Lisa alive had eaten away at him like a cancer, and Jack hadn't noticed more than to appreciate the sharp lines and planes developing on Ianto's body.
He knew better than to think this situation was his own fault, but damn if there wasn't a piece of blame staring him in the face.
"Wake up."
Ianto didn't stir.
"I said wake up. You aren't completely under. I can tell by the way you're breathing."
Ianto's eyes came open. He kept his head down on the shelf where he rested. "I wasn't expecting to know who you were when I woke up."
"Kinda optimistic, expecting to wake up."
"If you're trying to scare me, don't bother." He rolled and sat up. His suit was crumpled and covered in brown, dried blood, and his face was blotchy, unpleasant.
"If I wanted to scare you, I'd tell you all the things I could do to you, and nobody would ever know. I'm absolutely gifted at hurting people when I want to." He watched, hoping for some reaction, and was disappointed. Like a sore tooth, he pushed harder. "Big shot guys like to talk about breaking bones, but I say, you can't go wrong with nerves. You can only break a bone once, maybe twice, but I can keep individual nerves screaming for hours, and come back for more as soon as you're conscious."
Not so much as a twitch.
"That's if I wanted to scare you."
"Kill me if you're going to kill me. Otherwise," Ianto lay back down, "go away."
"Do you want me to kill you? You think I'd let you off that easy?"
"No."
Silence fell between them. Jack sat, watching. Ianto remained where he was, eyes open, looking at the wall.
"I don't know what to do with you, Ianto. If I kill you, it's a waste. If I retcon you, it's a waste. If I let you stay, I'm not sure I'll ever trust you again. I can't just tell you not to go in the basement anymore, but I can't let you out of my sight, either. I don't have options here, and I hate not having options."
"Fine." Ianto rolled over onto his back. "Keep me on. Use me."
"I just told you I can't use you. I can't let you go into places in the base that aren't monitored."
"No, Jack. Use me." His voice was dull, almost dead. "It's what you wanted from me. It's what I offered you when you hired me. You don't have to like me, or trust me, and if you won't kill me or let me work, then at the minimum, I'll be doing something useful."
His words sunk in.
They'd fooled around before, quick kisses and fumbles while the rest were nearby, always at the wrong time to go further, always when it was too awkward to ask Ianto to stay. Looking back, it was easy to see the pattern. Ianto was willing to tease, to make Jack think they were involved in a slow seduction. Now he was offering everything he'd pretended to consider before, in exchange for his life and a place here. And he expected Jack to accept.
Jack's stomach curdled.
"Come with me." He stood, and shoved Ianto as gently as he could from the shelf, nudging him and leading him to the showers. "Get out of those, you're a mess."
Ianto didn't object. His fingers moved clumsily at his buttons, and a flush moved into his cheeks when he saw Jack wasn't going to turn away. But his eyes only objected when he pulled away his shirt to see how much blood had caked onto it, and then his mouth trembled. "The room. Where she."
"It's been dealt with. You were out for a long time."
He jerked a nod and threw the ruined suit to the floor. He stood there until Jack pushed him into the shower stall. "Wash off."
Jack waited. Soap and shampoo were utilised, and then again as Ianto saw the blood pooling in the water at his feet. Shame was gone, replaced by apathy. When he finished, Jack handed him a towel. Ianto dried his body, rubbed at his hair, then wrapped the towel around his waist.
"I have a change of clothes upstairs," he said without any hope in his voice.
Jack nodded. "You changed clothes when you spent the night with her."
"Yes."
Clever little details of a clever little plan that had no chance of success. Such a waste. Jack stepped up to him, grabbed his head, and kissed him, hard. He didn't bother with teasing, instead went for a firm press of lips and a demanding tongue, hands sliding down Ianto's body after his mouth opened to the onslaught. Jack took his hips, digging in with rough fingers as he pushed them up against the nearest wall. Ianto didn't kiss him back, didn't hold him, but didn't prevent him or shove him away.
Jack broke the kiss. "Come on."
Ianto followed him, a bit out of breath, and that was something. Jack didn't watch, merely listened to the bare pad of his feet as Jack marched them through the Hub and into his office. Ianto's eyes went to the bare expanse of Jack's desk, and Jack grinned. Oh yes, he'd had that fantasy involving Ianto and his ties, and Jack himself had been fucked on this same desk numerous times.
He indicated the cover to his bunker. "In there. Go."
If it was fear that crossed his face, Ianto closed it off quickly. He wasn't permitted down here, didn't know for sure what was awaiting him. Jack looked for but couldn't see if he was reconsidering Jack's comment about nerves and torture.
"Hurry up."
Ianto's body passed through a quick shiver, and then he climbed down, the towel hindering his legs. Jack followed, closing the cover behind him.
Ianto took in the personal effects. "This is your room?"
"It's not much, but it serves. Sit down."
Now the fear had returned, if it had ever left. Ianto was never an open book, but Jack could read his mind unspooling: here he was and here he would be kept, just as he'd requested, left in the dark like a pet in a room no-one else ever entered. He said nothing, only wet his lips in the low light. Jack had ideas about those lips.
He stood in front of Ianto, and held his eyes as he unbuckled his belt, then slowly unzipped himself. Ianto let out a shaky breath, and his hands came up to pull aside the flies, to tug down at Jack's pants. At the first brush of his mouth, Jack tensed, then relaxed, pushing his cock between those lush lips, letting Ianto find a rhythm, revelling in the sensation and the fear. Ianto had threatened to kill him. Surely biting wasn't off the table.
Jack loved the slapping, slurping sound they made together, loved the firm wet heat of Ianto's mouth, loved the danger of it, and yes, the power as well. This was wrong. He knew it was wrong.
He pulled away from Ianto, pushed Ianto's chin up. "Not bad. Have you done that before?"
"I practised." So he had intended to do what was necessary to keep Jack's interest. That made this easier.
"Take off the towel and lie down."
Ianto was half-hard as he pulled the wet towel off, throwing it into the corner without concern. That also made this easier, certainly moreso than the tight line of his mouth, or the twitch in his eyes as Jack came closer.
"Here's the deal," Jack said conversationally, rubbing a hand on Ianto's calf and moving slowly up his damp skin to his thigh. "You're probably not going to enjoy this much. Normally I take my time with these things, but it's been a very long day, and I don't care. I'm not going to go easy on you, but if you tell me to stop, I will."
"And then you'll kill me."
"No. I won't kill you, and I won't hurt you intentionally. Say stop and I'll stop. Say nothing, and I won't." He didn't give Ianto time to agree or disagree before draping his own clothed body over the naked one in his bed and resuming the kissing. Still there was no returning response.
He sighed.
Jack had been disrobing at speed for over a century. He dropped his clothes in the hamper, because he wasn't a slob, then grabbed a half-empty bottle of lube and crawled back onto the small camp bed.
"Now, typically, I like to start with a lot of kissing. Kissing's great. After that, I like to see what my partner is into. I try for some neck, some ear, some flurp." Ianto's eyebrows narrowed. "Wrong species. Don't worry about it. Humans tend to have similar erogenous zones, but it's nice to know who's got special ones. For example." Jack grasped Ianto's right foot, and began rubbing the ball of it with one thumb, pressing a kiss to the webbing at the space between his big and second toes while Ianto gasped. "That was a guess, but a good one."
"Yeah."
Jack grinned. "I go for oral after that. I give fantastic blow jobs, and I'm practically a professional at cunnilingus."
"Tosh always said you were bisexual."
"You don't have words yet for what I am." He wet his hands with the lube. "I love rimming, too. The first time you tongue anybody, it blows their mind. But we aren't going that route tonight." He pushed Ianto's legs apart with his knees and pressed his thumb against Ianto's arsehole. "Which I have to say is a damn shame, because I bet you'd love it, and with that detailed little mind of yours, you'd be a pro at licking my arse in two days, tops."
Ianto squinted at him in the darkness, then gasped as Jack pressed his thumb inside. He was hot and tight as Jack went in to the first knuckle, and then to the base. He withdrew, slicking first one then two fingers inside, dribbling more lube over them.
"This won't be as good," he said conversationally, pouring more lube into his hand and slicking himself up. "I mean, I'll enjoy it, but you could have had a much better experience."
Ianto was tensing up, which wouldn't help him, but Jack could either coddle him back to calm, or fuck him now, and he opted for fucking. He hadn't opened Ianto up much, and he felt the too-tight give of him as he went in fast. Ianto cried out, and Jack stilled.
"You can still say no. You can still say stop." His breath was ragged but his head was clear.
Ianto said nothing.
Jack grabbed his legs and went for it, pounding in ruthlessly. Ianto stayed partially erect, never getting into it really but getting something out of Jack's deep thrusts. If he'd grab at his own dick, that'd be fine, but his hands stayed at his sides, jerking only in time with Jack's movements. If he didn't want to make this any better, if he wanted to forgo an orgasm, that was his problem.
"You ... "
The word escaped Ianto's throat. Jack had to pause to hear. "What?"
"You're not wearing a condom."
"No kidding." Jack returned to his work. Sweat ran down his face and chest. He felt good, really good, but he was getting tired. He bent Ianto's legs over more for a better angle, and drove in again to that clenching warmth. When he couldn't catch ill, couldn't catch his partner ill, condoms were only useful to help prevent babies, in Jack's mind. He'd wear one to appease his partner, but this wasn't about appeasement.
"Roll over." He pulled out and smacked Ianto's arse until he rolled onto his belly. Then he hitched up Ianto's thighs, and yes, that was the friction and angle he needed. His balls drew up. He was going to come any minute. As a last olive branch, he grabbed Ianto beneath him and gave his cock a few friendly tugs. There was a grunt of acknowledgement.
Jack came, grateful for the release as he spilled into Ianto's body. Not the best climax he'd had, but definitely a nicer ending for the night than he would have thought earlier. Ianto was panting beneath him. Jack groaned as he withdrew. "Use your hand. I know you know how."
Ianto took it as an order, and began wanking himself. Jack turned away this time, not wanting to watch, listening as Ianto gasped into the pillow, almost crying. He took another two minutes to come, making a mess on Jack's bed. Couldn't be helped.
Jack was sore and tired, but he wasn't finished with tonight's work. "Done?"
Ianto nodded.
"Great." Jack left him there in the camp bed, climbing up the ladder to his office. He came back down carefully balancing the items in his hand. Ianto's eyes went wide.
"Jack?"
"It's the high dose." He held out the pills and the glass of water. "You'll lose a little more than two years. We'll send you somewhere you won't be triggered."
"Jack, please don't. I'll do anything." Desperation edged his voice, but Jack had taken what he wanted, and there wasn't anything left to offer.
"I can't keep you around, and I won't kill you. This is the best you can hope for, and you know it."
"Please. I don't want to forget her."
"I don't care."
Ianto took the pills. He stared at Jack, then swallowed them with one gulp of water. He didn't speak again, and his eyes grew glassy, empty. Jack waited until Ianto nodded off, then went back upstairs to find Ianto's spare clothes and begin the process of terminating his employment.
Such a damned waste.
***
And some levity to round out the mix, a de-anon from twclssckinkmeme:
Title: Sweet Rewards
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack/doughnut (implied Jack/Ianto)
Rating: No pastries under the age of 17 should read this fic.
Warning: food abuse
Summary: Read the prompt.
Prompt: "Jack fucks a donut. Can be the hole-y kind or cream-filled kind but no sprinkles!"
***
The hole was there, mocking him.
Jack ignored it, pushing the plate to one side of his desk and focusing on reading the report in front of him. Still, his eyes drifted back. The hole was round, moist, and oh so sweet.
It was possible that he was more than a little horny due to what Ianto referred to as "taking a break" and what Jack referred to as "blue balls are nobody's friend, how about I go down on you, please?"
Nah.
A subtle glance to the Hub showed he wasn't being observed.
"Come here, beautiful."
Jack lifted the doughnut from the plate, dropping a few seductive crumbs on his desk. He loved nothing better than leaving a mess on his desk after, something to remember deeds past, something to watch Ianto bent over whilst cleaning.
Oh yeah.
He ran his tongue around the rim of the doughnut's inner hole, tasting the sugar in the glaze. Sticky goo covered his lips as he nipped, laving it, loving it. Two fingers followed his tongue, gliding in and out on the slick trail.
His trousers were too tight. A zip and a yank, and that wasn't an issue.
The doughnut glistened with glaze and spit.
"Oh, you tease."
He lay it like a crown over the head of his cock. If he moved too fast, he'd wreck the hole and shred his sweet lover to crumbs. If he moved too slowly, he'd never build up enough friction.
"Let's make this work, baby." Achingly slow, he pushed the doughnut down over himself, hesitating whenever he felt the pastry give way. It was tight, and stuck enticingly to his skin, squeezing him warmly as he drew it down to the base of his penis.
He sat there, watching it, head swimming. His hand took over from there, sliding and groping and squeezing, playing with the head, giving himself just the edge of his fingernails in exactly the right way. His other hand grasped the doughnut, wriggling the tasty treat around the base of his cock like a fat hula hoop.
The doughnut wouldn't last much longer, coming apart under the onslaught of Jack's gyrating hips and hands. Jack wouldn't last much longer either. They would fall to crumbs together.
High whines poured from his throat. Deathfucks weren't always the best, but this doughnut was special.
"Yeah, yeah, right like that!"
His hand jerked as an orgasm blasting through him, tearing the doughnut to pieces and gracing the shreds with fresh, creamy spunk. Sweet, sticky and salty all blended in his messy hands while he kept pumping.
There was a cough behind him.
Jack didn't turn, did mentally curse how fast his high from the orgasm faded. "Something you need, Ianto?"
"No, sir." There was a laugh just trying to bubble out, Jack could tell, and Ianto was losing the battle against it. "I was coming in to see if you wanted a second doughnut."
Jack looked down at the mess on his lap. "Actually ... "
"You're off sweets for the next week."
Jack did turn around them. "No. You can't deny me sex and sugar both. That's not fair."
"Think of it as your just desserts."
Ianto made it out the door before the messy splatter hit him.
***
Title: Repulsion
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack/Ianto/John
Rating: NC-17
Summary: They are like magnets.
Prompt: jealousy
***
Someone will be alone when this is finished. Jack would be happy in a stable three-part system, regardless of the pieces, but John and Ianto are like magnets: attracted to the same centre, repelled when too close. Ianto's skin crawls with an equal mixture of horror and desire as John's lips mark his shoulders and the delicate ridges of his spine. Jack is warm under him, a burbling laugh in every breath he takes between kisses, a sensitive and taut friction as he glides their dicks together in one large hand.
John's voice is lower, dirtier, begging imprecations in a language Ianto doesn't speak but one that sends Jack's eyes fluttering in even greater arousal. He lets go of Ianto, reaches down between them to grab for John's, rubbing him between Ianto's thighs.
Jack says something Ianto doesn't understand. Ianto kisses the words away, and then Jack says, "Do you feel him? Tell me what you feel."
"He's hard between my legs," Ianto growls in Welsh. "But not as hard as you."
Jack thrusts his hips, rubbing off on Ianto's belly, balls hitting John's cock and making him bite down on Ianto's back. Ianto twists in pain, trying to dislodge the unwanted interloper. Jack wants John here, wants them both. Ianto wants Jack.
He sticks to Welsh, seducing Jack via his ears. "I want to fuck you." Jack gasps as Ianto reaches between them, rubbing a dry thumb against Jack's hole.
"Both of you," Jack says in English. "Inside me. I can take it."
"Oh yeah," John says, rolling off Ianto like a rug. He slaps Ianto's arse. "Move, Eye Candy."
The repulsion grows. He doesn't want John there, doesn't want the feel of his cock slithering against Ianto's as they push Jack past his boundaries together. But Jack is pleading. He nods.
Jack scoots his body to the end of the bed, gleeful. John's got the lube ready, unmindful of splatters and drips as he thrusts three wet fingers inside Jack without any preamble. Jack howls, and Ianto almost punches John, but Jack is grasping the sheets the same way he always does when Ianto fists him, or scalds him with hot wax, or draws slender lines of blood with the sharpest knife they own. Jack is intimately acquainted with pain-pleasure, loves it.
John's hand is thick inside Jack's arse. Jesus, it's hot to watch. Ianto drips lube onto himself, but only risks a quick tug or he'll pop.
"Now!" Jack demands, voice breaking, and John doesn't hesitate before climbing atop him like a spider, thrusting in with old familiarity. Ianto watches them, mouth dry as Jack's hole accepts John's cock greedily, beautifully. Is this what they look like when Ianto is fucking him? When Jack fucks him back? Tight and spread, thighs twitching with the muscle control holding them in place?
He steps up behind John's bony arse, grabs onto it as John pounds quickly into Jack whilst muttering, "Yeah, oh yeah, fuck." They were lovers for years, John knows Jack's body better then Ianto does, but instead of drawing out Jack's pleasure, John is seeking his own.
When John pulls out for another thrust, Ianto tugs on him, presses his own cock with his. The lube makes John's cock oily like a worm and hard to grasp as they shove into Jack with one motion.
Jack's groaning and sweating, squirming as John and Ianto match their pace. "More" is the only word Ianto understands, and he obliges, even as his knees complain at the low angle. Jack has never been this tight, never felt so good. Sparks race behind Ianto's eyes at the pressure, at the joined rhythm, at the stench of John's sweat dripping down his face and back, sticking Ianto to him. Jack is gorgeous spread out beneath them, his arsehole hot and stretched around them. John's head goes back and Ianto pays him back for the earlier bite by grabbing his throat with his own teeth. John squeals and his hips stutter, bumping Ianto hard as he jerks through his sudden orgasm, his come spurting inside Jack and over Ianto's cock.
Oh God, it's wet and tight, and John keeps thrusting, and Ianto's balls are so hard they're going to explode.
Jack's hand works over his own cock, slicking fast as he whines. Ianto can last until he comes, can hold this moment a little longer. Then John grabs Jack's cock and squeezes and Jack's entire body convulses.
Ianto doesn't see much after that, trapped inside the fire burning in his head, in his cock and balls. He shouts as he comes, and it's always good with Jack, always. The limp-body sensation is good, as the pleasure drains out of him. The blissful expression on Jack's face is good. The sight of Jack's arse leaking come is exceptionally good.
If Ianto is going to be the one who's alone after this, he's going to take these pieces with him. He throws himself down on the bed beside Jack, ignores that John does the same on the other side. Jack is their centre.
"Good, yeah?" John asks, in echo of Ianto's thoughts.
"Oh yeah," Jack says. He turns his head to see Ianto. "You okay?"
"Fine."
"I'm better than fine," John says, taking hold of Jack's chin and pulling him in for a wet kiss. This is a display. Ianto understands and ignores him.
"I'd love to see you two go at it when you get your breath back," says Jack, breaking the kiss.
"No," Ianto says, as John says, "Yes."
Jack grins. There's a shutter behind his eyes that Ianto almost misses. He'll get his way, Ianto knows. John's body will drape over his, fucking into him as Jack sits back amongst the pillows, masturbating to the sight. Jack will file it away as his own personal porn for later, capturing the line of Ianto's back and the cries he makes as John teases his prostate. Jack will close his eyes hundreds of years from now, and see John's mouth close over Ianto's cock, licking and sucking, head bobbing to Jack's direction. He will see Ianto try to push away from John as the magnetic poles collide, and he will replay the centuries-old porn, remembering them both with the stroke of his own hand.
"Ask me in an hour," Ianto says, and closes his eyes, feeling Jack's long body stretched warm against him. He lets Jack feel his heartbeat, lets him breathe Ianto's breath. Jack's throat makes a happy noise that's practically a purr. John yawns loudly and throws an arm over Jack. Arse.
Ianto is going to let the psychotic little monster fuck him, because someone is going to be alone when this is finished, and it's going to be Jack.
***
Title: What to Expect
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairing: Ianto/Tosh (team mentioned)
Rating: NC-17
Summary: She wants so much.
Prompts: apartment, pregnant, remember, computer, suit
***
Her belly is growing every day. Toshiko draws a hand over the swell, watching her knees vanish, and then her feet, hidden by the stretched fabric covering her abdomen. Maternity clothes can be traded for, handed around. Pregnancy vitamins are at a premium, though, and after tomorrow, she'll be out of the ones Ianto stole last month. When rations are tight, it's the best chance she can give the baby. He says he'll try to find more. She says she'd rather he not draw attention to himself and get killed.
Like most of their life together, it's a rough compromise.
His mouth following the movement of her fingers is a different kind of compromise, blowing warmth onto her skin through her clothes. He's got a half-smile, the one that's a little bit devil, a little bit angel, rounding over her like a moon.
"Is she moving?"
"No."
Ianto makes a noise, which vibrates through her. He likes to kiss her belly when the baby is kicking. She likes that the baby will be born knowing the deep cadence of his voice. They've told the other refugees in this camp that they've been married for three years, that her name is Miyu and his David, that they are excited to bring new life into a place that's known so much death. She never says Owen's name, though she dreams about him, and hopes his daughter will have his eyes. Given the lack of medical care available to her, she expects not to live long enough to find out. It's a thing they don't discuss, like the rumours that Jack is being held on the Master's ship, or their fears that Gwen is long dead.
Ianto's lips are warmer as he mouths the skin beneath her dress. His left hand rests on her thigh, not moving, while his eyes ask her permission. They are separated from the other families in this flat by a blanket stretched across the room; a battered old sofa shoved up against a wall serves as their bed, sitting room, office, and soon their nursery. She can hear voices not five feet away going about the business of living in hell. Privacy is a state of mind.
She nods. The hand tickles down to the hem of her dress, and presses up against the cotton of her knickers, rubbing rasping circles against her. His right hand coaxes her knees apart.
His mouth is against her belly, but his eyes are on her face. "Tell me what you want."
I want Owen here. I want my baby born safe in a world where we don't huddle in terror from mechanical monster balls. I want an hour on a computer to write a program to take the bastards down. I want Jack to peel you out of a suit and take away the darkness in your eyes you think I can't see. I want my life back and yours as well, and our friends alive.
"Love me."
The hem of her skirt comes up, to rest primly on her belly. Ianto grinds the heel of his hand against her, pushing her knees up to either side of him.
When his mouth makes contact with her knickers, she bites her lip, and the devil smile is back. The same hot, wet breath as before is soaking her panties. Tosh trembles as the flat of his tongue wets her further.
Around them, life goes on in the flat. Someone is doing the washing up. Someone else is helping a child read a book. In the room next to them, she can hear the steady thump of a bed shaking. The noises are dull background to the feel of his tongue teasing her without undressing her.
He slides beside her body, not over the hump of her, and they kiss gently. His cock is hard and his voice is feather-light: "If you can come without making a sound, I'll get you off twice."
It's a challenge and a dare and it sends fluid in a rush to her cunt as she accepts the terms. His hands find her knickers and work the sodden material off her body to drop on the tiny spot of floor that's theirs. He kisses his way back down her body, and now his tongue has plenty of access, lapping at her, nipping shocks into her. Her labia are blood-swollen and thick as he sucks one side into his mouth, the prickle of his beard shooting the tiniest pricks of pain against her vulva. One finger slides between her outer lips, seeking the tender places inside her vagina, stroking each nerve.
His thumb and the tip of his tongue flick her clitoris at the same moment, and Tosh has to bite her own hand to keep from crying out. Ianto alternates, rocking his hand and flipping his tongue until she's at the edge, until she needs him.
Mary did this, holding her for almost an hour with her fingers and her tongue and her dirty laughs. Owen never did, giving into fast desire in the brief times they shared while Ianto and Gwen pretended not to hear.
She yanks on Ianto's hair, a silent plea to climb up here and fuck her hard. She feels rather than hears his hot chuckle. He pushes in another finger while he sucks the tip of her clit into his mouth, then blows cool air across it. The cold is just what she needs, bursting across her as she keeps herself from thrashing, from rocking him, from making a single noise in her climax. She can't stop the tremors, won't stop him milking them from her with gentle licks.
The baby kicks. Does she like the waves passing through her home? Is she frightened?
Tosh grabs Ianto's hand, the one wet with her, and places it over her belly so he can feel the movement. His eyes burn when the baby kicks under his hand. Tosh knows this part, can unzip him without making a sound, can roll to her side and let him slide up behind her in the narrow sofa. She's so wet, he slides in with ease, and now they must thrust together without moving. It's hard, but oh so worth it as he fills her again and again.
The hand that's trapped under her body holds onto her belly. The other parts her legs, rubbing her clit as he rocks into her, as he pulls out and slams back in. The sofa starts to wiggle.
The voices around them don't change. Maybe they're ignoring Tosh and Ianto as they fuck, maybe they're listening in for gasping breaths held tight, for the whine he makes into her hair, hand fumbling hard to get her off again. Her fingers join his, seeking with ease the right spot.
She wants to hear his voice, wants him to mutter promises and dirty words. She wants to remember what it's like to be with someone she craves instead of someone she loves as a friend. She wants a long, hot bath, and candlelight, and a wedding in the spring.
This has to be enough.
Her fingertip pushes her clit and she convulses in pleasure for a second time. His thrusts never stop. She doesn't know who he's pretending she is, if she's his Jack or his Lisa or some fantasy bimbo, but his arm is tight across her abdomen as he comes, making her sticky and wet and replete.
Before she can relax, there's a high whirring noise, and an insane giggle. The voices in the room stop abruptly as Toclafane zoom in a pack past their high window, bent on chasing someone on the street below them.
She feels Ianto tense behind her, can almost read his thoughts, his desire to go down to those streets and die fighting as uselessly as Owen did, as Gwen surely did when she broke away from them to look for Rhys amongst the ruins.
"Promise me," she says, too quiet for the Toclafane, no doubt loud enough for their flatmates to hear.
He squeezes her. "I won't leave you."
"Promise me that when you go to fight them anyway, that you won't stop me from coming with you." They'll both die. Her baby will die. But maybe someone else can live another day.
"Tosh."
"Promise."
He's silent until the mad balls are gone, until he is soft and withdrawn from her and tucked away, until the voices restart their muttering outside the tattered blanket of their privacy.
"I promise."
***
Title: Misapprehension
Fandom: Doctor Who
Characters/Pairing: Jenny/Vastra
Rating: R
Summary: Jenny is happy to be wrong.
Prompts: swords, tongue, green, scales, taste
***
Jenny thought swords were used for men to surround and bully and take, thought Vastra would leverage her power at the tip of a blade.
Jenny thought the scales would be slimy, would cause shivers of revulsion to consume her the first time Vastra drew her hand down the soft skin of Jenny's back.
Jenny thought "green" was the colour meat turned when it rotted and she had to choke it down anyway if she intended to survive, thought Vastra would taste of defilement and spoilage.
Jenny thought her best prospect would be as some man's possession, subject to his whims even as she closed her eyes against his gross needs.
The swords buy them peace, and freedom, and protection. Jenny's arms and legs ache each night after her daily work and her hours of training. She is no longer afraid of the steel, though there's a resigned sigh when she knows it will be time to practise thrusts and parries.
The scales are dry and smooth, sliding under Jenny's hand like rough silk. Vastra writhes when Jenny massages her belly, and her scaly hands are as tender as a baby's, holding Jenny's face.
The green skin under Jenny's kisses tastes of smoke from the oil lamps, tastes of leather from Madame's breeches, undulates like the green sea Jenny spied once from a distance. The flavour of the sweat between Vastra's breasts is sealike, salty, and the moist, hidden place between Vastra's thighs reminds her of green apples, tartsweet and juicy on her lips. Jenny drinks her like cider, worships her like the ocean. Her turn will come to lie spread while Vastra's long tongue undoes her slowly. She belongs to her mistress, heart and soul, and is joyful in the surrender.
Jenny doesn't mind being wrong, not when this feels so right.
***
Title: What We Take From the Wreckage
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Rating: NC-17
Summary: "He's not some puppy who messed on the floor and just needs training up." Obligatory post-Cyberwoman fic.
Warning: dubcon, darkfic
Prompts: blow job, punishment, cells, first time
***
Jack watched the dormant figure on the CCTV. Ianto was riding the high on whatever sedative Owen had injected him with, and had been left to sleep it off in the cells. As a sop to Gwen, the door had been left open.
"He's not a threat to anyone but himself," she'd said, hands balled into fists at her hips.
Toshiko hadn't spoken, but nodded agreement. She'd also nodded when Owen had sworn and called Ianto an idiot. Tosh wasn't taking sides, she just wanted this to be in the past already instead of needing to be cleaned up, disassembled, destroyed, and hidden away behind layers of subterfuge and lies.
Dammit.
Someone entered his office without knocking. Jack didn't turn to look at Gwen. "I thought you went home."
"In a minute." It was Owen.
"Need something?"
Owen joined him by the monitor. "What are you going to do with him?"
"I'll let you know."
"You know what you ought to do."
No, he didn't. That was the issue. Jack rarely knew what he ought to do and relied on instinct, intuition, and when those failed, luck to see him through. His initial instincts and intuition had been set aside when he'd brought Ianto on board, and it was sheer luck none of his team had been killed during the Cyberman's rampage.
"I'm sure you have a suggestion." Jack hadn't asked for opinions. This wasn't a democracy. Asking a group of terrified, angry people how to deal with their colleague who'd nearly killed them and destroyed the planet wouldn't give Jack the answer he needed, and if he did kill Ianto, the others would carry that on their consciences forever.
"I do. You won't like it."
"Assume I'm not looking for advice."
"Like I care." Owen was going to suggest a bullet. Hell, Owen might offer to do it, and Jack couldn't take him up on that, couldn't shirk his responsibility. "Retcon him and send him away."
Jack sat back, watching the screen. "Why?"
"Because shooting him would only make you feel better for about ten minutes."
"It'd be a good ten minutes."
"Yeah, but then you'll hate yourself and take it out on us."
"We could keep him on."
Owen laughed, stopping only when he saw Jack wasn't joining him. "No. He's not some puppy who messed on the floor and just needs training up. He's a traumatised kid who wasn't smart enough to walk away when he had the chance. We can't trust him if he stays, and killing him would be vengeance, not justice."
Vengeance sounded good. Jack wasn't going to forget dying at the hands of that Cyberman in a hurry, wouldn't forget the sight of Gwen strapped down in the machine, or the Frankenstein-stitching in that poor girl's forehead. All that went at Ianto's feet. Letting him forget and walk away didn't seem fair.
"I'll deal with it."
"If you shoot him, I'm not cleaning it up." Owen turned and walked out.
Jack followed Owen with the cameras, out of the Hub, out to his car, out into the streets. When he was well away, and the Hub was empty except for the low moans of the injured pterodactyl, Jack emerged from his office and walked slowly down to the cells.
He pulled up a chair and sat outside the open door. The cameras hadn't picked up on the bloodstains, or the dark circles under the eyes. Ianto was thinner than when he'd started two months ago. Jack had dismissed this in the back of his head: Torchwood Three wasn't the soft desk job Torchwood One had been. Lack of sleep, a poor diet, and shoving all his efforts down the well of keeping Lisa alive had eaten away at him like a cancer, and Jack hadn't noticed more than to appreciate the sharp lines and planes developing on Ianto's body.
He knew better than to think this situation was his own fault, but damn if there wasn't a piece of blame staring him in the face.
"Wake up."
Ianto didn't stir.
"I said wake up. You aren't completely under. I can tell by the way you're breathing."
Ianto's eyes came open. He kept his head down on the shelf where he rested. "I wasn't expecting to know who you were when I woke up."
"Kinda optimistic, expecting to wake up."
"If you're trying to scare me, don't bother." He rolled and sat up. His suit was crumpled and covered in brown, dried blood, and his face was blotchy, unpleasant.
"If I wanted to scare you, I'd tell you all the things I could do to you, and nobody would ever know. I'm absolutely gifted at hurting people when I want to." He watched, hoping for some reaction, and was disappointed. Like a sore tooth, he pushed harder. "Big shot guys like to talk about breaking bones, but I say, you can't go wrong with nerves. You can only break a bone once, maybe twice, but I can keep individual nerves screaming for hours, and come back for more as soon as you're conscious."
Not so much as a twitch.
"That's if I wanted to scare you."
"Kill me if you're going to kill me. Otherwise," Ianto lay back down, "go away."
"Do you want me to kill you? You think I'd let you off that easy?"
"No."
Silence fell between them. Jack sat, watching. Ianto remained where he was, eyes open, looking at the wall.
"I don't know what to do with you, Ianto. If I kill you, it's a waste. If I retcon you, it's a waste. If I let you stay, I'm not sure I'll ever trust you again. I can't just tell you not to go in the basement anymore, but I can't let you out of my sight, either. I don't have options here, and I hate not having options."
"Fine." Ianto rolled over onto his back. "Keep me on. Use me."
"I just told you I can't use you. I can't let you go into places in the base that aren't monitored."
"No, Jack. Use me." His voice was dull, almost dead. "It's what you wanted from me. It's what I offered you when you hired me. You don't have to like me, or trust me, and if you won't kill me or let me work, then at the minimum, I'll be doing something useful."
His words sunk in.
They'd fooled around before, quick kisses and fumbles while the rest were nearby, always at the wrong time to go further, always when it was too awkward to ask Ianto to stay. Looking back, it was easy to see the pattern. Ianto was willing to tease, to make Jack think they were involved in a slow seduction. Now he was offering everything he'd pretended to consider before, in exchange for his life and a place here. And he expected Jack to accept.
Jack's stomach curdled.
"Come with me." He stood, and shoved Ianto as gently as he could from the shelf, nudging him and leading him to the showers. "Get out of those, you're a mess."
Ianto didn't object. His fingers moved clumsily at his buttons, and a flush moved into his cheeks when he saw Jack wasn't going to turn away. But his eyes only objected when he pulled away his shirt to see how much blood had caked onto it, and then his mouth trembled. "The room. Where she."
"It's been dealt with. You were out for a long time."
He jerked a nod and threw the ruined suit to the floor. He stood there until Jack pushed him into the shower stall. "Wash off."
Jack waited. Soap and shampoo were utilised, and then again as Ianto saw the blood pooling in the water at his feet. Shame was gone, replaced by apathy. When he finished, Jack handed him a towel. Ianto dried his body, rubbed at his hair, then wrapped the towel around his waist.
"I have a change of clothes upstairs," he said without any hope in his voice.
Jack nodded. "You changed clothes when you spent the night with her."
"Yes."
Clever little details of a clever little plan that had no chance of success. Such a waste. Jack stepped up to him, grabbed his head, and kissed him, hard. He didn't bother with teasing, instead went for a firm press of lips and a demanding tongue, hands sliding down Ianto's body after his mouth opened to the onslaught. Jack took his hips, digging in with rough fingers as he pushed them up against the nearest wall. Ianto didn't kiss him back, didn't hold him, but didn't prevent him or shove him away.
Jack broke the kiss. "Come on."
Ianto followed him, a bit out of breath, and that was something. Jack didn't watch, merely listened to the bare pad of his feet as Jack marched them through the Hub and into his office. Ianto's eyes went to the bare expanse of Jack's desk, and Jack grinned. Oh yes, he'd had that fantasy involving Ianto and his ties, and Jack himself had been fucked on this same desk numerous times.
He indicated the cover to his bunker. "In there. Go."
If it was fear that crossed his face, Ianto closed it off quickly. He wasn't permitted down here, didn't know for sure what was awaiting him. Jack looked for but couldn't see if he was reconsidering Jack's comment about nerves and torture.
"Hurry up."
Ianto's body passed through a quick shiver, and then he climbed down, the towel hindering his legs. Jack followed, closing the cover behind him.
Ianto took in the personal effects. "This is your room?"
"It's not much, but it serves. Sit down."
Now the fear had returned, if it had ever left. Ianto was never an open book, but Jack could read his mind unspooling: here he was and here he would be kept, just as he'd requested, left in the dark like a pet in a room no-one else ever entered. He said nothing, only wet his lips in the low light. Jack had ideas about those lips.
He stood in front of Ianto, and held his eyes as he unbuckled his belt, then slowly unzipped himself. Ianto let out a shaky breath, and his hands came up to pull aside the flies, to tug down at Jack's pants. At the first brush of his mouth, Jack tensed, then relaxed, pushing his cock between those lush lips, letting Ianto find a rhythm, revelling in the sensation and the fear. Ianto had threatened to kill him. Surely biting wasn't off the table.
Jack loved the slapping, slurping sound they made together, loved the firm wet heat of Ianto's mouth, loved the danger of it, and yes, the power as well. This was wrong. He knew it was wrong.
He pulled away from Ianto, pushed Ianto's chin up. "Not bad. Have you done that before?"
"I practised." So he had intended to do what was necessary to keep Jack's interest. That made this easier.
"Take off the towel and lie down."
Ianto was half-hard as he pulled the wet towel off, throwing it into the corner without concern. That also made this easier, certainly moreso than the tight line of his mouth, or the twitch in his eyes as Jack came closer.
"Here's the deal," Jack said conversationally, rubbing a hand on Ianto's calf and moving slowly up his damp skin to his thigh. "You're probably not going to enjoy this much. Normally I take my time with these things, but it's been a very long day, and I don't care. I'm not going to go easy on you, but if you tell me to stop, I will."
"And then you'll kill me."
"No. I won't kill you, and I won't hurt you intentionally. Say stop and I'll stop. Say nothing, and I won't." He didn't give Ianto time to agree or disagree before draping his own clothed body over the naked one in his bed and resuming the kissing. Still there was no returning response.
He sighed.
Jack had been disrobing at speed for over a century. He dropped his clothes in the hamper, because he wasn't a slob, then grabbed a half-empty bottle of lube and crawled back onto the small camp bed.
"Now, typically, I like to start with a lot of kissing. Kissing's great. After that, I like to see what my partner is into. I try for some neck, some ear, some flurp." Ianto's eyebrows narrowed. "Wrong species. Don't worry about it. Humans tend to have similar erogenous zones, but it's nice to know who's got special ones. For example." Jack grasped Ianto's right foot, and began rubbing the ball of it with one thumb, pressing a kiss to the webbing at the space between his big and second toes while Ianto gasped. "That was a guess, but a good one."
"Yeah."
Jack grinned. "I go for oral after that. I give fantastic blow jobs, and I'm practically a professional at cunnilingus."
"Tosh always said you were bisexual."
"You don't have words yet for what I am." He wet his hands with the lube. "I love rimming, too. The first time you tongue anybody, it blows their mind. But we aren't going that route tonight." He pushed Ianto's legs apart with his knees and pressed his thumb against Ianto's arsehole. "Which I have to say is a damn shame, because I bet you'd love it, and with that detailed little mind of yours, you'd be a pro at licking my arse in two days, tops."
Ianto squinted at him in the darkness, then gasped as Jack pressed his thumb inside. He was hot and tight as Jack went in to the first knuckle, and then to the base. He withdrew, slicking first one then two fingers inside, dribbling more lube over them.
"This won't be as good," he said conversationally, pouring more lube into his hand and slicking himself up. "I mean, I'll enjoy it, but you could have had a much better experience."
Ianto was tensing up, which wouldn't help him, but Jack could either coddle him back to calm, or fuck him now, and he opted for fucking. He hadn't opened Ianto up much, and he felt the too-tight give of him as he went in fast. Ianto cried out, and Jack stilled.
"You can still say no. You can still say stop." His breath was ragged but his head was clear.
Ianto said nothing.
Jack grabbed his legs and went for it, pounding in ruthlessly. Ianto stayed partially erect, never getting into it really but getting something out of Jack's deep thrusts. If he'd grab at his own dick, that'd be fine, but his hands stayed at his sides, jerking only in time with Jack's movements. If he didn't want to make this any better, if he wanted to forgo an orgasm, that was his problem.
"You ... "
The word escaped Ianto's throat. Jack had to pause to hear. "What?"
"You're not wearing a condom."
"No kidding." Jack returned to his work. Sweat ran down his face and chest. He felt good, really good, but he was getting tired. He bent Ianto's legs over more for a better angle, and drove in again to that clenching warmth. When he couldn't catch ill, couldn't catch his partner ill, condoms were only useful to help prevent babies, in Jack's mind. He'd wear one to appease his partner, but this wasn't about appeasement.
"Roll over." He pulled out and smacked Ianto's arse until he rolled onto his belly. Then he hitched up Ianto's thighs, and yes, that was the friction and angle he needed. His balls drew up. He was going to come any minute. As a last olive branch, he grabbed Ianto beneath him and gave his cock a few friendly tugs. There was a grunt of acknowledgement.
Jack came, grateful for the release as he spilled into Ianto's body. Not the best climax he'd had, but definitely a nicer ending for the night than he would have thought earlier. Ianto was panting beneath him. Jack groaned as he withdrew. "Use your hand. I know you know how."
Ianto took it as an order, and began wanking himself. Jack turned away this time, not wanting to watch, listening as Ianto gasped into the pillow, almost crying. He took another two minutes to come, making a mess on Jack's bed. Couldn't be helped.
Jack was sore and tired, but he wasn't finished with tonight's work. "Done?"
Ianto nodded.
"Great." Jack left him there in the camp bed, climbing up the ladder to his office. He came back down carefully balancing the items in his hand. Ianto's eyes went wide.
"Jack?"
"It's the high dose." He held out the pills and the glass of water. "You'll lose a little more than two years. We'll send you somewhere you won't be triggered."
"Jack, please don't. I'll do anything." Desperation edged his voice, but Jack had taken what he wanted, and there wasn't anything left to offer.
"I can't keep you around, and I won't kill you. This is the best you can hope for, and you know it."
"Please. I don't want to forget her."
"I don't care."
Ianto took the pills. He stared at Jack, then swallowed them with one gulp of water. He didn't speak again, and his eyes grew glassy, empty. Jack waited until Ianto nodded off, then went back upstairs to find Ianto's spare clothes and begin the process of terminating his employment.
Such a damned waste.
***
And some levity to round out the mix, a de-anon from twclssckinkmeme:
Title: Sweet Rewards
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters/Pairings: Jack/doughnut (implied Jack/Ianto)
Rating: No pastries under the age of 17 should read this fic.
Warning: food abuse
Summary: Read the prompt.
Prompt: "Jack fucks a donut. Can be the hole-y kind or cream-filled kind but no sprinkles!"
***
The hole was there, mocking him.
Jack ignored it, pushing the plate to one side of his desk and focusing on reading the report in front of him. Still, his eyes drifted back. The hole was round, moist, and oh so sweet.
It was possible that he was more than a little horny due to what Ianto referred to as "taking a break" and what Jack referred to as "blue balls are nobody's friend, how about I go down on you, please?"
Nah.
A subtle glance to the Hub showed he wasn't being observed.
"Come here, beautiful."
Jack lifted the doughnut from the plate, dropping a few seductive crumbs on his desk. He loved nothing better than leaving a mess on his desk after, something to remember deeds past, something to watch Ianto bent over whilst cleaning.
Oh yeah.
He ran his tongue around the rim of the doughnut's inner hole, tasting the sugar in the glaze. Sticky goo covered his lips as he nipped, laving it, loving it. Two fingers followed his tongue, gliding in and out on the slick trail.
His trousers were too tight. A zip and a yank, and that wasn't an issue.
The doughnut glistened with glaze and spit.
"Oh, you tease."
He lay it like a crown over the head of his cock. If he moved too fast, he'd wreck the hole and shred his sweet lover to crumbs. If he moved too slowly, he'd never build up enough friction.
"Let's make this work, baby." Achingly slow, he pushed the doughnut down over himself, hesitating whenever he felt the pastry give way. It was tight, and stuck enticingly to his skin, squeezing him warmly as he drew it down to the base of his penis.
He sat there, watching it, head swimming. His hand took over from there, sliding and groping and squeezing, playing with the head, giving himself just the edge of his fingernails in exactly the right way. His other hand grasped the doughnut, wriggling the tasty treat around the base of his cock like a fat hula hoop.
The doughnut wouldn't last much longer, coming apart under the onslaught of Jack's gyrating hips and hands. Jack wouldn't last much longer either. They would fall to crumbs together.
High whines poured from his throat. Deathfucks weren't always the best, but this doughnut was special.
"Yeah, yeah, right like that!"
His hand jerked as an orgasm blasting through him, tearing the doughnut to pieces and gracing the shreds with fresh, creamy spunk. Sweet, sticky and salty all blended in his messy hands while he kept pumping.
There was a cough behind him.
Jack didn't turn, did mentally curse how fast his high from the orgasm faded. "Something you need, Ianto?"
"No, sir." There was a laugh just trying to bubble out, Jack could tell, and Ianto was losing the battle against it. "I was coming in to see if you wanted a second doughnut."
Jack looked down at the mess on his lap. "Actually ... "
"You're off sweets for the next week."
Jack did turn around them. "No. You can't deny me sex and sugar both. That's not fair."
"Think of it as your just desserts."
Ianto made it out the door before the messy splatter hit him.
***