fic, Glassboy
Glassboy (Jack/Ianto, PG-13, under 1000 words, Ianto was munched up and spit out again by the rift)
Ianto was sucking spit flowers against the glass panes of the door before Jack drew him away and pressed a water glass to his hand. Ianto brought it to his lips and latched onto it within moments, teeth scraping along the rim before his lips settled against the side of it.
"Octopus," Jack said, smiling, brushing the hair from Ianto's forehead.
Ianto looked at him over the rim of the glass, eyes blinking deep in their sockets. He reached for Jack with his free hand and slid his fingers through the gaps between the buttons of Jack's shirt, hooking himself in.
Jonah's screams echoed along the hallway and Ianto flinched from them, eyes tightening, fingers tightening.
Not crazy, Ianto spelled out with his index finger against Jack's skin underneath his shirt.
"I know," Jack said and wiped away the spit that slid from Ianto's bottom lip down the side of the glass.
They walked into Margaret's office holding hands like lovers. Jack had hired Margaret himself thirty years ago, a wonder the woman was still this sane and gentle after so many years camouflaged in abandoned buildings trying at the same time to keep Jack's secrets and ... do what could be done for everyone who ended up here.
"Any change?" Margaret asked as she checked Ianto's pupils and reactions but for all intents and purposes Ianto was still Ianto.
"We were out earlier this week. He needed new clothes so I had the great idea to walk down to St David's." Ianto dug his fingers into Jack's hand and motioned to himself. "He had the idea," Jack corrected. "Then I had to keep him from swallowing the glass figurines in one of the nippes shops."
Cherries were tasty, Ianto wrote out in shorthand on Jack's thigh.
"I think it was Bob the Builder you didn't want to let go," Jack gave back and snorted at Ianto's eyeroll.
"Anything else?" Margaret asked, making notes in a file. Ianto's brows pinched. He didn't like being a file in Flat Holm, never mind he got to walk out with Jack every time they came here, guilty glance to the rooms of the other Rift debris that had got blown out and blown back in again.
Fine, Ianto spelled out, tongue moving against the outside of the waterglass, around and then pushing inside. He rolled the glass with his hand, turning it to coat every last bit with his spit.
Sex was imaginably difficult but Ianto was happy with a glass dildo in his mouth whenever they were fucking and there was less danger of crushing glasses in their shared bed that way. Jack didn't get blown anymore but that, too, was fine, and the sharp edge of Ianto's thumb nail into the back of his hand told him to keep his mouth shut on that.
"If it was something in the glass, the minerals we could substitute, I'd love to help, Jack, but..." Margaret trailed off and shut the file, slid it back into the drawer.
That was Flat Holm, the nothing-you-can-do cases.
Ianto slumped in his seat a little, the sucking noises on the glass loud now, the scrape of teeth every now and then. Jack had learned to read distress signals.
"I'm sorry," Margaret said, all business and terse compassion, and then she was gone again, off to care for someone worse off than Ianto.
"Do you remember any-"
Ianto pulled away, chair scraping over the floor and stood by the door. Jack didn't bother finishing his sentence, just left it at a frustrated huff to voice some kind of displeasure. Trying to figure out what had happened always brought him up to a wall.
Are you leaving me now? Ianto wrote into Jack's palm when Jack followed him out of the door. Here?
Jack gripped Ianto's hand. He was the one of all the poor sods he could bring home.
On the walk down to the boat to take them back to Cardiff, Jack stopped on a hill and drew the glass marble from his pocket.
Ianto's fingers were white around the waterglass when Jack reached for it and slowly drew it away, the noise in Ianto's throat high-pitched keening.
"Shh," Jack said, and pulled the glass from Ianto's lips with a pop.
Jack pressed his lips to Ianto's, pushed his tongue into Ianto's open mouth. He kissed him through the desperate sounds, clawing fingers on his arms, catching breath, before he brought the glass marble up between them and pushed it into Ianto's mouth as he drew out his tongue.
Ianto's eyes were wet, dark, a little betrayed and hurt and hurting.
"Sorry," Jack said over Ianto's hitching breaths. He brushed Ianto's tears away with his thumb, the spit from his chin and wiped his wet fingers on his shirt. "The boat," he said, because he couldn't bring out another apology.
Ianto nodded, pushed his hands into his pockets and walked ahead. Jack trailed after, waterglass hanging from his fingers. The marble was clicking against Ianto's teeth as he pushed it around in his mouth, cheek bulging out here and there, marble peeking from his lips before it was slurped back into his mouth.
Ianto's ass worked just fine, but Jack missed just making out on the sofa watching the telly. He missed just kissing.
He missed Ianto saying I love you, too, now there was only the clacking of teeth on glass, and the wet slurp. It could always be worse, but it was hard to accept when it had been so much better.
Ianto was sucking spit flowers against the glass panes of the door before Jack drew him away and pressed a water glass to his hand. Ianto brought it to his lips and latched onto it within moments, teeth scraping along the rim before his lips settled against the side of it.
"Octopus," Jack said, smiling, brushing the hair from Ianto's forehead.
Ianto looked at him over the rim of the glass, eyes blinking deep in their sockets. He reached for Jack with his free hand and slid his fingers through the gaps between the buttons of Jack's shirt, hooking himself in.
Jonah's screams echoed along the hallway and Ianto flinched from them, eyes tightening, fingers tightening.
Not crazy, Ianto spelled out with his index finger against Jack's skin underneath his shirt.
"I know," Jack said and wiped away the spit that slid from Ianto's bottom lip down the side of the glass.
They walked into Margaret's office holding hands like lovers. Jack had hired Margaret himself thirty years ago, a wonder the woman was still this sane and gentle after so many years camouflaged in abandoned buildings trying at the same time to keep Jack's secrets and ... do what could be done for everyone who ended up here.
"Any change?" Margaret asked as she checked Ianto's pupils and reactions but for all intents and purposes Ianto was still Ianto.
"We were out earlier this week. He needed new clothes so I had the great idea to walk down to St David's." Ianto dug his fingers into Jack's hand and motioned to himself. "He had the idea," Jack corrected. "Then I had to keep him from swallowing the glass figurines in one of the nippes shops."
Cherries were tasty, Ianto wrote out in shorthand on Jack's thigh.
"I think it was Bob the Builder you didn't want to let go," Jack gave back and snorted at Ianto's eyeroll.
"Anything else?" Margaret asked, making notes in a file. Ianto's brows pinched. He didn't like being a file in Flat Holm, never mind he got to walk out with Jack every time they came here, guilty glance to the rooms of the other Rift debris that had got blown out and blown back in again.
Fine, Ianto spelled out, tongue moving against the outside of the waterglass, around and then pushing inside. He rolled the glass with his hand, turning it to coat every last bit with his spit.
Sex was imaginably difficult but Ianto was happy with a glass dildo in his mouth whenever they were fucking and there was less danger of crushing glasses in their shared bed that way. Jack didn't get blown anymore but that, too, was fine, and the sharp edge of Ianto's thumb nail into the back of his hand told him to keep his mouth shut on that.
"If it was something in the glass, the minerals we could substitute, I'd love to help, Jack, but..." Margaret trailed off and shut the file, slid it back into the drawer.
That was Flat Holm, the nothing-you-can-do cases.
Ianto slumped in his seat a little, the sucking noises on the glass loud now, the scrape of teeth every now and then. Jack had learned to read distress signals.
"I'm sorry," Margaret said, all business and terse compassion, and then she was gone again, off to care for someone worse off than Ianto.
"Do you remember any-"
Ianto pulled away, chair scraping over the floor and stood by the door. Jack didn't bother finishing his sentence, just left it at a frustrated huff to voice some kind of displeasure. Trying to figure out what had happened always brought him up to a wall.
Are you leaving me now? Ianto wrote into Jack's palm when Jack followed him out of the door. Here?
Jack gripped Ianto's hand. He was the one of all the poor sods he could bring home.
On the walk down to the boat to take them back to Cardiff, Jack stopped on a hill and drew the glass marble from his pocket.
Ianto's fingers were white around the waterglass when Jack reached for it and slowly drew it away, the noise in Ianto's throat high-pitched keening.
"Shh," Jack said, and pulled the glass from Ianto's lips with a pop.
Jack pressed his lips to Ianto's, pushed his tongue into Ianto's open mouth. He kissed him through the desperate sounds, clawing fingers on his arms, catching breath, before he brought the glass marble up between them and pushed it into Ianto's mouth as he drew out his tongue.
Ianto's eyes were wet, dark, a little betrayed and hurt and hurting.
"Sorry," Jack said over Ianto's hitching breaths. He brushed Ianto's tears away with his thumb, the spit from his chin and wiped his wet fingers on his shirt. "The boat," he said, because he couldn't bring out another apology.
Ianto nodded, pushed his hands into his pockets and walked ahead. Jack trailed after, waterglass hanging from his fingers. The marble was clicking against Ianto's teeth as he pushed it around in his mouth, cheek bulging out here and there, marble peeking from his lips before it was slurped back into his mouth.
Ianto's ass worked just fine, but Jack missed just making out on the sofa watching the telly. He missed just kissing.
He missed Ianto saying I love you, too, now there was only the clacking of teeth on glass, and the wet slurp. It could always be worse, but it was hard to accept when it had been so much better.