CHARACTERS: Ianto Jones and Jack Harkness
LOCATION: Somewhere in the passenger quarters
WARNINGS: Angst, possible progression into NC-17 territory.
SUMMARY: Jack and Ianto run into each other in the passenger quarters just after everyone arrives.
(
Ianto missed his suit already )
Jack stopped dead in his tracks, and when he spoke, his voice was oddly hesitant, and not at all the way he normally sounded. "...Ianto?"
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With a sudden desperation, Ianto needed Jack. He needed to close all remaining distance, to be as close as it was possible for two people to be. He shivered despite the heat of the shower, Jack's fingers like fire down his back.
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He was already achingly hard, and he knew he wouldn't be able to hold out for very long. Jack probably wouldn't either, but it didn't matter. There was time and stamina enough for slow and sensual later, if they pleased; this was release. He ground their hips together, craving friction, his hands seeking the swell of Jack's bottom, the firm lines of his thighs.
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They weren't in this for the sex at that moment, although it was happening. But Jack was just appreciating Ianto as intimately as he could, rolling his hips against Ianto's own as his mouth trailed along the lines and nooks of Ianto's throat and collarbone. His arms were firm around him as they moved together - Ianto wasn't going anywhere, and Jack had him right where he wanted him. He let out a soft noise of contentment - he was equally as aroused as Ianto, if not more so, and it had been a very long time since he'd been in the position he was there.
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"Jack..." he sighed into Jack's ear, his tone conveying love and desire where words failed him. He felt truly alive then, as if everything that came before might have been just the dream of a dead man. He'd needed this connection, this affirmation of life to truly believe this was real. That he was still real. And he hadn't known it until that moment.
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Yes, Ianto, you are real, and you are here with me, his actions said, as he hooked his arms around Ianto, resting on the back of his thigh right where it met his bottom so that he could use the leverage and push them further together on each rock with their hips. I'm not going to let you go anywhere. I've got you back and you're here to stay. He ran his tongue along the line of Ianto's collarbone, dipping it into the crevice right above his breastbone, nipping slightly at the exposed skin of Ianto's neck as Ianto opened himself up to the contact. Responding in turn to Ianto's tone with his actions that yes, yes he loved him. He loved him quite a lot. Ianto meant the world to him and now he knew and he was not going to take this second chance for granted, not the way he had with the first.
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As Jack found better leverage, so did he, cupping the curve of Jack's bottom in one hand, kneading as they moved together. His breath came in stutters, his fingernails scraping lightly against Jack's scalp. Every sensation was enhanced tenfold, his nerves firing rapidly as every singular drop of water beat teasingly against his skin. The sweet ache of it built and built in a rising crescendo until it burst.
Ianto came not with a shout, but with a hitched whimper, spilling hard between them in spurts of trembling pleasure.
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"...I missed you," he said again, and he meant it every bit as he did the first time, if not more. He ran a hand through Ianto's hair, smiling wider, before he turned, searching for the shampoo dispenser. "Come on, then. Let's get you clean..."
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He let Jack lather shampoo through his hair, making a contented noise and indulging for a few minutes before squirting some shampoo in his own hands and returning the favor. Thorough as always, he made sure he caught every strand before pulling Jack back under the spray, letting it wash over both of them, the frothy suds running down the drain.
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"How does it stay?" he asked softly. "Shouldn't your body be healing it?" If Jack wasn't healing as normal...Ianto didn't want to think about it.
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Neither of them really believed that, but they had far too much on their plates right now. "Let's finish getting cleaned up and find our room." He soaped up Jack in return, taking his time, making sure to get every nook and cranny. It was a little more than strictly proficient, though. Jack must have died a hundred times since Ianto met him alone, but Ianto still felt the need to examine him for all his fingers and toes, to smooth his hands over skin as if it might suddenly bear impossible new scars. Especially now, with that damning tattoo, Ianto needed to be sure Jack was whole.
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