The Ways to be Oblivious
My first Torchwood fic, yay!
Title: The Ways to be Oblivious
Author: etharei
Timeline: set before “Out of Time” (110)
Spoilers: spoilers up to "Combat" (109), also a non-spoilery reference to something in "Smith and Jones" (Doctor Who, 301), see if you can catch it!
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Characters: Whole team (Myfanwy’s probably in the background somewhere, chewing on tinsel ^_^)
Disclaimer: Torchwood and all the characters and situations featured therein are the property of Russell T. Davies, BBC Wales and their affiliates. I’m only borrowing them for purely non-profit, recreational purposes.
Summary: He stared at his chair. “Girls,” he called. Gwen and Tosh turned to look at him from their respective stations. “Which of you swapped my seat?”
Author’s Notes: Half of this was written for the Advent Calender 2007 challenge at tw-calender, the entry of which is here. For my first TW fic, quite predictably, I got a character I’m not particularly fond of. But let it not be said that I back down from a challenge! There’s a vague reference to the Captain’s Blog on the BBCA website, Entry 9 :
Upcoming issues: We will all take shifts watching for the upcoming rift opening. We should get a few hours' warning when it's about to open.
My thanks to the person who mentioned Ianto taking the night shifts, it sparked half of the bunny for this fic! [Edit: And this person would be crabby-lioness! Thanks very much, hon!] The initial challenge only had Owen’s POV, but I offered to write the Ianto side if there was interest. Interest was shown, so it was written, albeit significantly later than expected. Sorry about that. Therefore, don’t be shy about giving authors love :D
The Ways to be Oblivious
Owen sat down with a sigh, mind on the report he had to write up on the alien autopsy he’d done the day before.
And immediately sprang back up onto his feet again.
He stared at his chair. “Girls,” he called. Gwen and Tosh turned to look at him from their respective stations. “Which of you swapped my seat?”
They simultaneously shook their heads, glancing at one another. “Why, what’s wrong with it?” asked Tosh.
“Nothing.” Owen grabbed hold of the backrest, moving it about a bit and then spinning the chair around. “At least not that I can tell. But it’s not the same chair I’ve been using since, well.” He made a vague gesture. “Since we’ve been using these chairs.”
“You can tell?” Tosh looked mildly surprised.
“If you waste enough time sitting on your chair doing nothing like he does,” said Gwen, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll be able to, as well. Owen, if there’s nothing wrong with your chair, stop whining.” Christ, start sleeping with a bird and she thinks she can mother you.
“I’m not whining.” He tentatively tapped the seat with his hand. “It just feels weird, that’s all. That chair was like an old friend.”
“I could tell, from the suspicious stain on the edge along the front,” said a voice from behind him.
“Ianto.” Hands on his hips, Owen turned to face their resident errand boy, who was holding a tray of steaming mugs. “You did this. You swapped my seat because I nicked a pen off the desk upstairs without telling you.”
“Hardly,” Ianto replied dryly. “I gave you decaf last night because you nicked a pen off the desk upstairs without telling me and messed up the filing system in the archives when you were looking for that anatomy chart for your autopsy.”
“That was not decaf.” Sure, it had tasted a little different, but he’d put it down to the smell from the dead alien messing up the old olfactory nerves. It did explain why he’d been so damn cranky, and fell asleep the moment he got home instead of heading out for some pre-Christmas pulling like he’d planned to. “That did not taste anything like decaf.”
“Owen, you should know better than to underestimate Ianto when it comes to coffee.” They all looked up to see Jack making his way down from his office. For some reason, he appeared to be more irritatingly cheerful than usual. “What’s the fuss, boys and girls?”
“Owen’s throwing a fit because somebody messed with his chair,” volunteered Tosh.
“Not messed with. Completely changed.” Owen patted the offending piece of furniture. “I think it’s even brand new.”
“It is.” All eyes shifted to Ianto. “I was about to say that I did change it, just not because you nicked a pen.”
“It’s my fault, really,” Jack interjected before Owen could say something. “I spilled something on your chair last night, Owen, and asked Ianto to bring up a new one from storage to replace it.”
“Couldn’t you have just cleaned it up?” asked Owen suspiciously.
“It was a corrosive agent,” Ianto elaborated as he handed Tosh her coffee. “You’re lucky that it only got on your chair. Dissolved the metal and fiber. It seemed easier to get a new chair than try to replace the damaged parts.”
“I didn’t know you were so attached to it, Owen, or I’d have been more careful,” said Jack, sincerity oozing out of him. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, right.” Owen sat down, making a face at the stiff cushion that had never felt a buttock, and the smoothness of the swivel. Looked like the chair was there to stay; better get started on breaking it in, then.
While he powered up his screen, Tosh was asking Ianto, “How did diagnostics go last night?” Owen didn’t acknowledge the morning cup that was placed on his desk.
“Nothing unexpected came up. Though the recent Rift openings slowed the program down a bit. CCTV in the Hub took an hour longer to come back on.”
~+~
"Do you think," panted Jack into his ear. "The others are wondering why you're taking more night shifts than anybody else?"
Ianto let out a groan, hands scrabbling all over Jack's back, shoulders, arms. Powerful muscles flexing and shifting under his touch, over his body, as blissful tightness engulfed and squeezed and released him, over and over again. The chair beneath them squeaked in time to Jack's movements, saved from rolling by Jack's one-handed grip on a workstation desk behind the chair.
It took the younger man several moments to realize that Jack had asked him a question, and another moment to process that workplace etiquette dictated a question be answered. Presumably even in the middle of being ridden good and hard by one's boss.
"No," he managed to say, a sentence like "maybe Gwen would if she weren't so distracted by her own affair, Tosh thinks I work too hard, and Owen wouldn't believe it unless you snogged me right in front of everyone" existing for a spark of a neuron before crumbling into happy oblivion. He was distracted by a bead of sweat on the arm extending past his shoulder towards the desktop ledge to anchor them in one place. He licked at the bead, spreading the salt over his tongue, then gave in and sank his teeth into the flesh underneath.
A low and distinctly primal sound emitted from Jack, and there were teeth on Ianto's neck, along his collarbone, though never too hard on skin that wouldn’t normally be covered by clothing. Short stings mingled with the pleasure, leaving Ianto whispering "Yes" as he glided a hand down the front of Jack's body, a straight line from pectorals to the thick, pulsing cock bumping against Ianto's stomach. Ianto sighed approvingly when Jack's flesh slipped into his hand; Jack letting out a muffled growl where he’d pushed Ianto’s already battered shirt halfway down one arm and clamped his mouth on Ianto’s shoulder. Thin, pale fingers teased the rigid length, pulling back the foreskin, thumb drawing loose circles around the head.
"Ianto!"
The younger man only smiled. Making strangled sounds, Jack stopped what he was doing to the skin of Ianto's shoulder and tipped his head back, eyes wide and mouth forming alien words. Muscles clenched around Ianto's cock, making him swear, but he didn't take his eyes off Jack. Skin shiny with perspiration from their first two rounds, powerful thighs bunching and trembling with effort as he pushed himself up and lowered himself down again, unabashedly wanton in the way he was undulating his body as if to milk Ianto for all he was worth... Ianto was certain that there was no more glorious a creature in the universe as Captain Jack in the throes of passion.
Ianto looked down, feeling embarrassed, and watched himself disappearing into Jack's body - the glistening surface of the condom, the hitch in Jack's breathing whenever Ianto hit his prostate, the flush of red on Jack's skin that indicated he was close. Aroused beyond bearing, Ianto let out a broken moan, bringing up his eyes to meet the other's dark, dilated gaze. Something in Jack's expression... he felt a rush of heat, separate from the explosion Jack's body was building in his. Jack's face approached, mouth slightly open, and Ianto subconsciously parted his own lips in anticipation. Those soft, familiar lips halted, hovered, a breath short of touching. Jack's breath ghosted into Ianto's mouth, and above the heady, pervasive musk of sex and sweat he could smell himself on Jack - dried saliva around Jack's mouth, the lube he'd bought just that morning in the shop around the corner, the more intimate scent lingering in Jack's breath, likely from when Jack went down on him precisely eight minutes after the others walked out of the Hub.
"I can smell me in you," he whispered into Jack's mouth.
He felt rather than saw Jack's wide smile. "That’s what I smell every day." Jack closed the distance. Tongues darted out ahead of their lips. The kiss was hard and messy; Ianto brought one hand to the back of Jack's head, pulling him closer. "What I smell when you're near me," Jack gasped into Ianto's mouth. "Even when you've showered, there's a trace of me on your skin. As for the times when you can't shower…"
"I was wondering why you wouldn't leave your desk after lunch hour last week," said Ianto thickly..
"We should do that again."
"We should."
A change in Jack's breathing, a new tension in his body, a subtle difference in the rhythm of his riding - something alerted Ianto to Jack’s impending climax, and he carefully didn't think about how he could always tell, now. He gripped Jack's hip with one hand, hard enough to bruise, while the other pumped Jack’s cock. Jack was a wild thing clinging onto Ianto's shoulder, and the way he was almost chanting Ianto's name started the tell-tale tingle over Ianto's skin.
Their lips crashed together, and Ianto scrabbled for something to hold onto. One hand found purchase on a desk, and he began thrusting his hips upwards, driving himself into Jack as the other's rhythm stuttered and failed. Fucking Jack harder.
A loud shout, and Jack was spilling himself over Ianto's fingers, Ianto's stomach and chest, Ianto’s skin. Before Jack Harkness, Ianto had always privately thought the expression of ecstasy on a human face to be a little ridiculous and undignified. Maybe it was the way he went into it with no trace of self-consciousness at all, but on Jack it looked beautifully vulgar and raw.
And the thought that it was he who'd made Jack that way, who'd made Jack come, made Jack moan his name so desperately, while his body spasmed and tightened with Ianto still inside him, was what pushed Ianto hurtling off the edge. The world went white for a second, and then the blue of Jack's eyes as Jack kissed him. Jack swallowed his scream even as Jack's body swallowed his orgasm, muscles tightening around Ianto and drawing out the waves of searing pleasure.
Eventually the bright rush dissipated, leaving them both panting and boneless against each other. Jack let Ianto slip out of him but continued to straddle the younger man. Ianto efficiently tied off and discarded the condom, and made a mental note to empty out all the bins before the others came in. Jack was examining something on his hip,, and Ianto flushed when he saw a pattern of little red crescents on Jack's skin. Jack beamed at him, inordinately pleased. "That's what I call the mark of a job well-done."
Ianto softly chuckled, and let himself relax against the chair. Chair... "Jack, we're at Owen's workstation."
"Are we?" asked Jack in a tone that didn't sound like a question at all.
"And, by conjecture, we've just had sex on Owen's chair."
Jack made a show of looking around them in surprise, as if seeing the cluttered workstation for the first time. “I think you’re right.”
Ianto rolled his eyes, making an indulgent smile. He shifted a bit, and an ominous sound came from the chair he was sitting on. Peering over the side, he said, “Ah.”
“What?” The chair wobbled and creaked some more as it felt the combined weight of Jack and Ianto concentrating on one side. There was a brief contemplative silence, ended by Jack whistling admiringly.
“I have to admit, sir, that that is impressive.”
Jack looked, in Ianto’s opinion, far too pleased with himself. It didn’t help that a part of Ianto thought the expression made him even more glorious - straddling Ianto’s lap, naked and glistening and with his chest puffed up. The older man, with the instincts that made him Jack, grinned at what he read on Ianto’s face and bent down for a slow wet kiss, hands coming up to cradle Ianto’s face.
It was all Ianto could do sometimes - the chair rolled and bumped into the desk - to keep his thoughts on the surface, on how Jack looked, how Jack felt, how well they moved together. Because that’s where it had to stay: on the surface. The surface was safe, to look and touch; go beneath it, even for a taste, and it’d be playing with time.
The next morning, Owen made a point of coming in a little earlier than usual. This earned him surprised and wary looks from Gwen, Tosh and Jack when they saw him. He ignored it, making a show of diligently working on some paperwork by the time Ianto came around with the coffee.
Tosh was the first to get hers, and as usual immediately took a long sip. She made a startled sound.
“What?” asked Owen nonchalantly, swiveling a little to look at her. “Something wrong with the coffee?”
She was peering into her cup. “Ianto, this is-“
A short moan came from Gwen’s direction, of a kind that Owen knew far too well. “This is gorgeous!” She took another drink. “New blend, Ianto?”
Ianto somehow managed to look polite and secretive and exceedingly pleased with himself at the same time, as he place a mug on Owen’s desk. “Just my little contribution to the festive season, after you and Gwen made the effort to spruce up the Hub and the Information Center yesterday.” The girls thanked him, it was no problem, Gwen had extra decorations anyway, the coffee was a work of genius, blah blah blah.
Leaning over Owen in order to reach the mess of pens scattered all over his station, Ianto said in a quieter voice, “Very inspired, Owen, exchanging the beans for decaf. Lucky for me, Jack could smell the difference.”
~+~
Ianto could always tell when Jack was still on a high from Weevil-hunting when he got back to the Hub. Energy seemed to radiate from him, and he couldn’t sit still, instead pacing around his office and the Hub doing random inspections of everything from the autopsy room to random empty rooms in the basement.
Admittedly, this time the giveaway was in the form of Jack having his hand down the front Ianto’s pants and his tongue in Ianto’s ear within two minutes of his return. When Ianto had been in the middle of clearing up the kitchenette.
Ianto was just about to negotiate their relocation to some place that was not the food and beverage preparation area before he’d have to clean it up all over again when Jack lifted his head and - there was no better word for it - sniffed the air.
“Has somebody pissed you off?”
Frowning, Ianto answered, “No. Why?”
“Because you’ve got decaf beans ready to serve in the morning.” Jack nodded to the airtight jar filled with coffee beans sitting right next to the coffee machine. The cover was off; Ianto had been in the process of topping the jar up when Jack came in. Ianto looked at the jar; a little distractedly, because Jack’s hand was still in his pants, had in fact delved further down and started stroking. “Those aren’t decaf beans.”
“The ones at the top aren’t. But there are some in there, I can smell them.”
Ianto’s eyes widened in horror. “But who- oh. Owen.” A very low blow, even for him. Ianto felt that he should be pissed, except Jack seemed to anticipate this and was doing things to the back of Ianto’s neck, strong arms resisting Ianto’s struggle out of them. Coffee vs. Jack, Ianto decided, must be one of the worst choices a man could be forced to make. Talk about a rock and a hard place. Except it’s beans and a very hard, but also very, very good place God, what was Jack doing to him.
“Calm down. If you spread them out,” and clearly Jack could never let an opportunity for innuendo pass, as he emphasized ‘spread’ with a knee pushing between Ianto’s and bumping them apart, “I’ll pick out the bad beans.”
Ianto sighed in relief. “Thank you, sir.”
Jack chuckled, and let himself be pulled out of the kitchenette. “I have to hand it to Owen; he knows the kind of things that would bother only you.”
~+~
“Jack?” Owen leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms. “We finished hunting for Weevils at, what, three in the morning? What were you doing here after Jack told us all to go home?”
Ianto raised an eyebrow. “The rift opening that Jack wants us to watch out for? I’ve been on night shift all week.”
Oh, yeah. “Right.” Explained why he looked a little worn out.
Ianto shook his head and moved off. Owen watched him climb the stairs towards Jack’s office, and took an investigative sip of the coffee. Fuck, it was good. If it weren’t for the fact that he was sure Ianto would see it - the man had eyes on the back of his head sometimes - Owen would have closed his eyes and let out a sigh of bliss. He did note that Ianto was moving a little stiffly; probably fell asleep at his desk or something, the workaholic sod.
He spun around on his chair, idly gazing at the tinsel and wreaths decorating parts of the Hub. Sometimes he wondered if there was something going on between his boss and the teaboy. Especially after the whole incident with Ianto’s cyber-girlfriend trying to kill them all, because by all accounts Ianto should have been discharged and retconned, at the very least. But no, just suspension, and it’s back to work again, everyone just try to forget about it. Yes, Jack, I’ll forget about a semi-converted metallic monster coming at me, because you ordered me to.
But then Jack had been lenient towards Tosh, too. Gwen didn’t even get so much as a rebuke, they’d all been too relieved to get her back safe, and as Jack said, sneaking out a murderer because she wanted to see her dying father was just so Gwen. Clearly Owen’s boss was a bit of a softie.
A burst of laughter from above. Owen ignored it; Jack’s been laughing more often, lately. Maybe it was a seasonal thing. Ianto returned, and for a second Owen thought he caught a glimpse of a smile and a flicker of a glance back towards Jack’s office. Huh. Teacher’s pet, that one. Harkness and Jones, with their bloody love of secrets. Addicted to secrets, more like.
Ianto collected Gwen and Tosh’s mugs, and smiled at the requests for more, and those biscuits from yesterday if there were any left. Owen waved him off, his mug only half-empty, eyes now aimed at Jack’s office.
He hated it, this feeling that he was missing something right under his nose. Right there, except he didn’t know what he was looking for, much less what it would look like. And he wanted to know because Torchwood can chew you down until there’s nothing left to spit back out, and if they couldn’t rely on each other, then what was the point?
Thing was, Gwen, Tosh and Ianto trusted Jack without question, would probably follow him to the depths of hell and back if he asked them to. Jack was the leader. But Owen was a doctor, fuck it all, and as far as he was concerned a leader had to earn the title.
“Jack,” Tosh’s voice rang across the Hub, breaking Owen’s musings. “I think we’ve got a possible date and time for the Rift opening.”
Title: The Ways to be Oblivious
Author: etharei
Timeline: set before “Out of Time” (110)
Spoilers: spoilers up to "Combat" (109), also a non-spoilery reference to something in "Smith and Jones" (Doctor Who, 301), see if you can catch it!
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Jack/Ianto
Characters: Whole team (Myfanwy’s probably in the background somewhere, chewing on tinsel ^_^)
Disclaimer: Torchwood and all the characters and situations featured therein are the property of Russell T. Davies, BBC Wales and their affiliates. I’m only borrowing them for purely non-profit, recreational purposes.
Summary: He stared at his chair. “Girls,” he called. Gwen and Tosh turned to look at him from their respective stations. “Which of you swapped my seat?”
Author’s Notes: Half of this was written for the Advent Calender 2007 challenge at tw-calender, the entry of which is here. For my first TW fic, quite predictably, I got a character I’m not particularly fond of. But let it not be said that I back down from a challenge! There’s a vague reference to the Captain’s Blog on the BBCA website, Entry 9 :
Upcoming issues: We will all take shifts watching for the upcoming rift opening. We should get a few hours' warning when it's about to open.
My thanks to the person who mentioned Ianto taking the night shifts, it sparked half of the bunny for this fic! [Edit: And this person would be crabby-lioness! Thanks very much, hon!] The initial challenge only had Owen’s POV, but I offered to write the Ianto side if there was interest. Interest was shown, so it was written, albeit significantly later than expected. Sorry about that. Therefore, don’t be shy about giving authors love :D
The Ways to be Oblivious
Owen sat down with a sigh, mind on the report he had to write up on the alien autopsy he’d done the day before.
And immediately sprang back up onto his feet again.
He stared at his chair. “Girls,” he called. Gwen and Tosh turned to look at him from their respective stations. “Which of you swapped my seat?”
They simultaneously shook their heads, glancing at one another. “Why, what’s wrong with it?” asked Tosh.
“Nothing.” Owen grabbed hold of the backrest, moving it about a bit and then spinning the chair around. “At least not that I can tell. But it’s not the same chair I’ve been using since, well.” He made a vague gesture. “Since we’ve been using these chairs.”
“You can tell?” Tosh looked mildly surprised.
“If you waste enough time sitting on your chair doing nothing like he does,” said Gwen, rolling her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll be able to, as well. Owen, if there’s nothing wrong with your chair, stop whining.” Christ, start sleeping with a bird and she thinks she can mother you.
“I’m not whining.” He tentatively tapped the seat with his hand. “It just feels weird, that’s all. That chair was like an old friend.”
“I could tell, from the suspicious stain on the edge along the front,” said a voice from behind him.
“Ianto.” Hands on his hips, Owen turned to face their resident errand boy, who was holding a tray of steaming mugs. “You did this. You swapped my seat because I nicked a pen off the desk upstairs without telling you.”
“Hardly,” Ianto replied dryly. “I gave you decaf last night because you nicked a pen off the desk upstairs without telling me and messed up the filing system in the archives when you were looking for that anatomy chart for your autopsy.”
“That was not decaf.” Sure, it had tasted a little different, but he’d put it down to the smell from the dead alien messing up the old olfactory nerves. It did explain why he’d been so damn cranky, and fell asleep the moment he got home instead of heading out for some pre-Christmas pulling like he’d planned to. “That did not taste anything like decaf.”
“Owen, you should know better than to underestimate Ianto when it comes to coffee.” They all looked up to see Jack making his way down from his office. For some reason, he appeared to be more irritatingly cheerful than usual. “What’s the fuss, boys and girls?”
“Owen’s throwing a fit because somebody messed with his chair,” volunteered Tosh.
“Not messed with. Completely changed.” Owen patted the offending piece of furniture. “I think it’s even brand new.”
“It is.” All eyes shifted to Ianto. “I was about to say that I did change it, just not because you nicked a pen.”
“It’s my fault, really,” Jack interjected before Owen could say something. “I spilled something on your chair last night, Owen, and asked Ianto to bring up a new one from storage to replace it.”
“Couldn’t you have just cleaned it up?” asked Owen suspiciously.
“It was a corrosive agent,” Ianto elaborated as he handed Tosh her coffee. “You’re lucky that it only got on your chair. Dissolved the metal and fiber. It seemed easier to get a new chair than try to replace the damaged parts.”
“I didn’t know you were so attached to it, Owen, or I’d have been more careful,” said Jack, sincerity oozing out of him. “Sorry.”
“Yeah, right.” Owen sat down, making a face at the stiff cushion that had never felt a buttock, and the smoothness of the swivel. Looked like the chair was there to stay; better get started on breaking it in, then.
While he powered up his screen, Tosh was asking Ianto, “How did diagnostics go last night?” Owen didn’t acknowledge the morning cup that was placed on his desk.
“Nothing unexpected came up. Though the recent Rift openings slowed the program down a bit. CCTV in the Hub took an hour longer to come back on.”
~+~
"Do you think," panted Jack into his ear. "The others are wondering why you're taking more night shifts than anybody else?"
Ianto let out a groan, hands scrabbling all over Jack's back, shoulders, arms. Powerful muscles flexing and shifting under his touch, over his body, as blissful tightness engulfed and squeezed and released him, over and over again. The chair beneath them squeaked in time to Jack's movements, saved from rolling by Jack's one-handed grip on a workstation desk behind the chair.
It took the younger man several moments to realize that Jack had asked him a question, and another moment to process that workplace etiquette dictated a question be answered. Presumably even in the middle of being ridden good and hard by one's boss.
"No," he managed to say, a sentence like "maybe Gwen would if she weren't so distracted by her own affair, Tosh thinks I work too hard, and Owen wouldn't believe it unless you snogged me right in front of everyone" existing for a spark of a neuron before crumbling into happy oblivion. He was distracted by a bead of sweat on the arm extending past his shoulder towards the desktop ledge to anchor them in one place. He licked at the bead, spreading the salt over his tongue, then gave in and sank his teeth into the flesh underneath.
A low and distinctly primal sound emitted from Jack, and there were teeth on Ianto's neck, along his collarbone, though never too hard on skin that wouldn’t normally be covered by clothing. Short stings mingled with the pleasure, leaving Ianto whispering "Yes" as he glided a hand down the front of Jack's body, a straight line from pectorals to the thick, pulsing cock bumping against Ianto's stomach. Ianto sighed approvingly when Jack's flesh slipped into his hand; Jack letting out a muffled growl where he’d pushed Ianto’s already battered shirt halfway down one arm and clamped his mouth on Ianto’s shoulder. Thin, pale fingers teased the rigid length, pulling back the foreskin, thumb drawing loose circles around the head.
"Ianto!"
The younger man only smiled. Making strangled sounds, Jack stopped what he was doing to the skin of Ianto's shoulder and tipped his head back, eyes wide and mouth forming alien words. Muscles clenched around Ianto's cock, making him swear, but he didn't take his eyes off Jack. Skin shiny with perspiration from their first two rounds, powerful thighs bunching and trembling with effort as he pushed himself up and lowered himself down again, unabashedly wanton in the way he was undulating his body as if to milk Ianto for all he was worth... Ianto was certain that there was no more glorious a creature in the universe as Captain Jack in the throes of passion.
Ianto looked down, feeling embarrassed, and watched himself disappearing into Jack's body - the glistening surface of the condom, the hitch in Jack's breathing whenever Ianto hit his prostate, the flush of red on Jack's skin that indicated he was close. Aroused beyond bearing, Ianto let out a broken moan, bringing up his eyes to meet the other's dark, dilated gaze. Something in Jack's expression... he felt a rush of heat, separate from the explosion Jack's body was building in his. Jack's face approached, mouth slightly open, and Ianto subconsciously parted his own lips in anticipation. Those soft, familiar lips halted, hovered, a breath short of touching. Jack's breath ghosted into Ianto's mouth, and above the heady, pervasive musk of sex and sweat he could smell himself on Jack - dried saliva around Jack's mouth, the lube he'd bought just that morning in the shop around the corner, the more intimate scent lingering in Jack's breath, likely from when Jack went down on him precisely eight minutes after the others walked out of the Hub.
"I can smell me in you," he whispered into Jack's mouth.
He felt rather than saw Jack's wide smile. "That’s what I smell every day." Jack closed the distance. Tongues darted out ahead of their lips. The kiss was hard and messy; Ianto brought one hand to the back of Jack's head, pulling him closer. "What I smell when you're near me," Jack gasped into Ianto's mouth. "Even when you've showered, there's a trace of me on your skin. As for the times when you can't shower…"
"I was wondering why you wouldn't leave your desk after lunch hour last week," said Ianto thickly..
"We should do that again."
"We should."
A change in Jack's breathing, a new tension in his body, a subtle difference in the rhythm of his riding - something alerted Ianto to Jack’s impending climax, and he carefully didn't think about how he could always tell, now. He gripped Jack's hip with one hand, hard enough to bruise, while the other pumped Jack’s cock. Jack was a wild thing clinging onto Ianto's shoulder, and the way he was almost chanting Ianto's name started the tell-tale tingle over Ianto's skin.
Their lips crashed together, and Ianto scrabbled for something to hold onto. One hand found purchase on a desk, and he began thrusting his hips upwards, driving himself into Jack as the other's rhythm stuttered and failed. Fucking Jack harder.
A loud shout, and Jack was spilling himself over Ianto's fingers, Ianto's stomach and chest, Ianto’s skin. Before Jack Harkness, Ianto had always privately thought the expression of ecstasy on a human face to be a little ridiculous and undignified. Maybe it was the way he went into it with no trace of self-consciousness at all, but on Jack it looked beautifully vulgar and raw.
And the thought that it was he who'd made Jack that way, who'd made Jack come, made Jack moan his name so desperately, while his body spasmed and tightened with Ianto still inside him, was what pushed Ianto hurtling off the edge. The world went white for a second, and then the blue of Jack's eyes as Jack kissed him. Jack swallowed his scream even as Jack's body swallowed his orgasm, muscles tightening around Ianto and drawing out the waves of searing pleasure.
Eventually the bright rush dissipated, leaving them both panting and boneless against each other. Jack let Ianto slip out of him but continued to straddle the younger man. Ianto efficiently tied off and discarded the condom, and made a mental note to empty out all the bins before the others came in. Jack was examining something on his hip,, and Ianto flushed when he saw a pattern of little red crescents on Jack's skin. Jack beamed at him, inordinately pleased. "That's what I call the mark of a job well-done."
Ianto softly chuckled, and let himself relax against the chair. Chair... "Jack, we're at Owen's workstation."
"Are we?" asked Jack in a tone that didn't sound like a question at all.
"And, by conjecture, we've just had sex on Owen's chair."
Jack made a show of looking around them in surprise, as if seeing the cluttered workstation for the first time. “I think you’re right.”
Ianto rolled his eyes, making an indulgent smile. He shifted a bit, and an ominous sound came from the chair he was sitting on. Peering over the side, he said, “Ah.”
“What?” The chair wobbled and creaked some more as it felt the combined weight of Jack and Ianto concentrating on one side. There was a brief contemplative silence, ended by Jack whistling admiringly.
“I have to admit, sir, that that is impressive.”
Jack looked, in Ianto’s opinion, far too pleased with himself. It didn’t help that a part of Ianto thought the expression made him even more glorious - straddling Ianto’s lap, naked and glistening and with his chest puffed up. The older man, with the instincts that made him Jack, grinned at what he read on Ianto’s face and bent down for a slow wet kiss, hands coming up to cradle Ianto’s face.
It was all Ianto could do sometimes - the chair rolled and bumped into the desk - to keep his thoughts on the surface, on how Jack looked, how Jack felt, how well they moved together. Because that’s where it had to stay: on the surface. The surface was safe, to look and touch; go beneath it, even for a taste, and it’d be playing with time.
The next morning, Owen made a point of coming in a little earlier than usual. This earned him surprised and wary looks from Gwen, Tosh and Jack when they saw him. He ignored it, making a show of diligently working on some paperwork by the time Ianto came around with the coffee.
Tosh was the first to get hers, and as usual immediately took a long sip. She made a startled sound.
“What?” asked Owen nonchalantly, swiveling a little to look at her. “Something wrong with the coffee?”
She was peering into her cup. “Ianto, this is-“
A short moan came from Gwen’s direction, of a kind that Owen knew far too well. “This is gorgeous!” She took another drink. “New blend, Ianto?”
Ianto somehow managed to look polite and secretive and exceedingly pleased with himself at the same time, as he place a mug on Owen’s desk. “Just my little contribution to the festive season, after you and Gwen made the effort to spruce up the Hub and the Information Center yesterday.” The girls thanked him, it was no problem, Gwen had extra decorations anyway, the coffee was a work of genius, blah blah blah.
Leaning over Owen in order to reach the mess of pens scattered all over his station, Ianto said in a quieter voice, “Very inspired, Owen, exchanging the beans for decaf. Lucky for me, Jack could smell the difference.”
~+~
Ianto could always tell when Jack was still on a high from Weevil-hunting when he got back to the Hub. Energy seemed to radiate from him, and he couldn’t sit still, instead pacing around his office and the Hub doing random inspections of everything from the autopsy room to random empty rooms in the basement.
Admittedly, this time the giveaway was in the form of Jack having his hand down the front Ianto’s pants and his tongue in Ianto’s ear within two minutes of his return. When Ianto had been in the middle of clearing up the kitchenette.
Ianto was just about to negotiate their relocation to some place that was not the food and beverage preparation area before he’d have to clean it up all over again when Jack lifted his head and - there was no better word for it - sniffed the air.
“Has somebody pissed you off?”
Frowning, Ianto answered, “No. Why?”
“Because you’ve got decaf beans ready to serve in the morning.” Jack nodded to the airtight jar filled with coffee beans sitting right next to the coffee machine. The cover was off; Ianto had been in the process of topping the jar up when Jack came in. Ianto looked at the jar; a little distractedly, because Jack’s hand was still in his pants, had in fact delved further down and started stroking. “Those aren’t decaf beans.”
“The ones at the top aren’t. But there are some in there, I can smell them.”
Ianto’s eyes widened in horror. “But who- oh. Owen.” A very low blow, even for him. Ianto felt that he should be pissed, except Jack seemed to anticipate this and was doing things to the back of Ianto’s neck, strong arms resisting Ianto’s struggle out of them. Coffee vs. Jack, Ianto decided, must be one of the worst choices a man could be forced to make. Talk about a rock and a hard place. Except it’s beans and a very hard, but also very, very good place God, what was Jack doing to him.
“Calm down. If you spread them out,” and clearly Jack could never let an opportunity for innuendo pass, as he emphasized ‘spread’ with a knee pushing between Ianto’s and bumping them apart, “I’ll pick out the bad beans.”
Ianto sighed in relief. “Thank you, sir.”
Jack chuckled, and let himself be pulled out of the kitchenette. “I have to hand it to Owen; he knows the kind of things that would bother only you.”
~+~
“Jack?” Owen leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms. “We finished hunting for Weevils at, what, three in the morning? What were you doing here after Jack told us all to go home?”
Ianto raised an eyebrow. “The rift opening that Jack wants us to watch out for? I’ve been on night shift all week.”
Oh, yeah. “Right.” Explained why he looked a little worn out.
Ianto shook his head and moved off. Owen watched him climb the stairs towards Jack’s office, and took an investigative sip of the coffee. Fuck, it was good. If it weren’t for the fact that he was sure Ianto would see it - the man had eyes on the back of his head sometimes - Owen would have closed his eyes and let out a sigh of bliss. He did note that Ianto was moving a little stiffly; probably fell asleep at his desk or something, the workaholic sod.
He spun around on his chair, idly gazing at the tinsel and wreaths decorating parts of the Hub. Sometimes he wondered if there was something going on between his boss and the teaboy. Especially after the whole incident with Ianto’s cyber-girlfriend trying to kill them all, because by all accounts Ianto should have been discharged and retconned, at the very least. But no, just suspension, and it’s back to work again, everyone just try to forget about it. Yes, Jack, I’ll forget about a semi-converted metallic monster coming at me, because you ordered me to.
But then Jack had been lenient towards Tosh, too. Gwen didn’t even get so much as a rebuke, they’d all been too relieved to get her back safe, and as Jack said, sneaking out a murderer because she wanted to see her dying father was just so Gwen. Clearly Owen’s boss was a bit of a softie.
A burst of laughter from above. Owen ignored it; Jack’s been laughing more often, lately. Maybe it was a seasonal thing. Ianto returned, and for a second Owen thought he caught a glimpse of a smile and a flicker of a glance back towards Jack’s office. Huh. Teacher’s pet, that one. Harkness and Jones, with their bloody love of secrets. Addicted to secrets, more like.
Ianto collected Gwen and Tosh’s mugs, and smiled at the requests for more, and those biscuits from yesterday if there were any left. Owen waved him off, his mug only half-empty, eyes now aimed at Jack’s office.
He hated it, this feeling that he was missing something right under his nose. Right there, except he didn’t know what he was looking for, much less what it would look like. And he wanted to know because Torchwood can chew you down until there’s nothing left to spit back out, and if they couldn’t rely on each other, then what was the point?
Thing was, Gwen, Tosh and Ianto trusted Jack without question, would probably follow him to the depths of hell and back if he asked them to. Jack was the leader. But Owen was a doctor, fuck it all, and as far as he was concerned a leader had to earn the title.
“Jack,” Tosh’s voice rang across the Hub, breaking Owen’s musings. “I think we’ve got a possible date and time for the Rift opening.”