New fic! Torchwood, Jack/Ianto
Title: Broader than the Flood
Author: giddygeek
Spoilers: Cyberwoman
Notes: 2300 word PWP for misspamela. Happy Birthday! I hope it's close to what you wanted. ;-) Thanks to kaneko for the read-through!
~~~
It's Owen tending Ianto after a run-in with weevils that does Jack in, eventually.
Ianto is standing between Owen's knees, Owen sitting on the couch, Ianto having refused to go anywhere near the morgue or labs. "Attack by weevils is unhygienic enough on its own," he says as he unbuttons his shirt, slowly undoes his trousers.
Owen snorts, but there's apparently enough blood on Ianto's clothes to keep him focused on his work, and not on whose responsibility cleaning the labs happens to be. "Girls--and that includes you, Jack--would you mind leaving us alone a minute?" he asks, impatiently brushing Ianto's hands aside. "I believe the young lad here is too shy to bare his skinny arse while the lot of you stand around gaping."
"He's scratched on the stomach," Jack points out, crossing his arms over his chest.
Owen digs his fingertip into Ianto's pelvis. "All the way down to here," he says. "Do you want me to clean the whole lot of them, or should I just let infection set in and his cock rot off?"
"We'll go," Gwen says, hastily, and grabs Jack's arm. "Come along now, Jack. We'll just leave Owen to his work, shall we?"
Jack narrows his eyes. "Be good," he says, pointing at Owen, and allows Gwen to tug him away. He can watch from his office just as easily, anyway.
~
Ianto tips his chin back and keeps his gaze focused on nothing while Owen cleans his wounds. The cuts are long but very shallow, Jack is glad to see, mostly welts with a bit of scraping. A close call--if Ianto had been inches closer, the weevil might've gutted him. As it is the biggest worry will be infection, and Owen is being very thorough in his work to prevent that.
Jack rests his elbows on his desk and frowns at the security monitor. Very thorough. Owen has one hand braced on Ianto's side, under his ruined white shirt, and the other hand working away on his smooth, pale skin. He's leaning very close to Ianto's abdomen. From Jack's angle, at times, it looks more like he's giving Ianto a blowjob than medical care.
There's a tightening knot in Jack's chest. He isn't a jealous man, but he's been finding more and more that Ianto arouses unusual reactions, atypical, fierce. A dam had burst when Jack found that Cyberwoman in his cellar, everything he'd held in and denied for so long suddenly released. Ianto seems both the natural target for all of it, and too young, too human, too close to something like innocence for Jack to sweep him away in the flood.
Owen leans back, finally, and pats Ianto's belly, says something that makes Ianto's mouth twist wryly. He steps away and begins to carefully pull up his trousers. Owen stands, too close, and pushes Ianto's hands away, works his shirt buttons in from the bottom up. Ianto permits it, watching him, looking vaguely amused, and Jack turns off the monitor and is out of his office in time to see Owen poke Ianto in the hollow of his throat before doing up the last of his buttons.
They both look at him. Owen's hands still on Ianto's collar. Ianto's hands loose at his sides. "You," Jack says, pointing at Ianto. "With me. Owen, go clean your labs--Ianto's right, they are a fucking disgrace."
Ianto smiles at Owen. "Solves that issue," he says, smooth and calm, and steps away.
"Yeah, well, isn't it nice to be Jack's pet?" Owen says, and turns to gather his supplies. "Follow the instructions I gave you or you'll be as functional as a Ken doll, and then we'll see if you get your way so easily around here."
"As long as I can still make the coffee, I think I'll be all right." Ianto holds a hand to his stomach as he bends to pick up his jacket, and Jack can't tell if it's the strain of movement or bitterness in his tone. Probably both, he thinks, when Ianto turns and meets his gaze. Probably a little of both.
"Until the day you lose the accent," he agrees, lightly. "Now, come on. I'll take you home so you can get some sleep." He guides Ianto from the Hub with a hand low on his back, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt; he can count on one hand the number of times he's touched Ianto with so few layers between them.
He thinks that's about to change.
~
Ianto's flat is clearly a place where Lisa is meant to live, if not to rule. Ianto's personality is there in the books on the walls and a few photographs with himself and friends, family, but even those are dominated by Lisa's smile. Every last one of them.
"Did she ever come here?" Jack asks, as he follows Ianto from tidy room to room, Ianto clearly wishing he'd stay behind but either too tired or too well-mannered to demand it.
"No."
There isn't even a discarded cup in the parlor, a crumb on the kitchen counter. "Do you ever come here?"
"I come home every night." Ianto sets a kettle on the stove. "I live here."
"Huh," Jack says, and wanders down the hall to Ianto's bedroom and bath. Immaculate, large--the flat is really quite nice. Lisa would probably have loved it. The bed is big and neatly made, with a dark blue duvet and two pillows. The toilet seat is down.
"Thus concludes the tour," Ianto says from the bedroom doorway.
"You probably have some kind of disorder," Jack says, and brushes past him. In the kitchen, he turns the kettle off.
"I'm aware of that." Ianto turns the kettle back on with the quiet patience of a saint. "Now, if you don't mind, I think I would like to get some rest, sir."
"You're still buzzing with adrenaline, or you'd never have been baiting Owen," Jack says. He takes a step forward and crowds Ianto against the counter, then reaches out and turns the kettle off again. He puts his hand on Ianto's cheek, warm skin and the faint prickle of stubble. "Ianto, Ianto. Did Owen touch you and ask you how long it'd been since you last had a fuck?"
Ianto doesn't answer, but he doesn't move away. He watches Jack, wide-eyed but calm.
Jack steps closer. Ianto is lean and strong and it feels right to press against him, lightly, mindful of his scratches. He smells clean and good even after a day chasing weevils. He radiates warmth. Jack would have done what he knows Owen did. He wouldn't have been able to resist.
He rests a hand on Ianto's hip. "Tell me, Ianto," he whispers. "Did he volunteer to give you one?"
Ianto snorts. "And not for the first time," he says. "I used to wonder if he'd fuck anyone that held still long enough."
Jack smiles. "He'd fuck anyone, but not you." He closes the final inch between them and kisses Ianto, lightly, just a brush of lips barely catching. "You're for me," he says, and Ianto leans against him and nods.
~
Ianto is all the things Jack had thought he was--too young, too human, nearly innocent. He's lived for little more than a quarter of a century, all of them consecutive years with no hopping around. Like most everyone else on the planet these days, he's tied to the Earth and despite Torchwood has seen very little. He's never even been forced to open his mind and accept things like third or fourth genders, those who can't be classified, the myriad attractive forms life takes in the galaxy, and so on.
But more than just that. Since he got stuck here, Jack's had a lot of experience with men who've never been with other men before and can tell that Ianto falls into that category; he's surprised by the way Jack kisses him and tentative in kissing back, his hands are cautious and curious. Once, twice, he twists away when Jack's cock brushes against him.
None of this dampens Jack's enthusiasm, because Ianto is hard and leaking when Jack wraps a hand around him, because he gasps Jack's name like it means everything, because when Jack nips at his chin, his throat, his collarbones, Ianto groans roughly and deeply.
Jack pulls them over, sprawls out on his back and spreads out his arms and legs. He feels huge and powerful, like he could take up the entire bed, take over this entire small world. He wants to feel Ianto everywhere while everything is new to Ianto--another man's cock, his stomach, his thighs and arms and chest. "Touch me," he invites, orders.
And that must make it easier for Ianto, because he does. He kisses Jack sweet and slick, trails his tongue and his fingers down Jack's neck, methodical and thorough in his exploration. The joint of Jack's shoulder merits a gentle bite, his nipples a careful twist while Ianto watches Jack's eyes. Ianto kisses his ribs and licks his abs, trailing the pink tip of his tongue over Jack's skin. Jack can't look away from him then, even though his heart races unexpectedly.
Ianto traces his fingertips through the groove of Jack's hip, looking up, almost somber. Jack pushes up into his hands and says, "Please, be my guest," his own fingers weaving lightly through Ianto's short hair. A gentle push gives Ianto the encouragement he needs to follow the path of his fingertips with his tongue, his hot breath puffing against Jack's skin making it all Jack can do not to lead that mouth exactly where he wants it, how he wants it.
Hands first, Ianto's long fingers wrapping around Jack's cock, jacking once, twice, awkward because of the unfamiliar angle. It doesn't matter much to Jack, who grunts and half-closes his eyes, enjoying it. "Harder," he says. "But go smooth." Ianto follows instructions and it's just right, incredible as he relaxes and gets into it. He does to Jack what he likes to do to himself, as all men do the first time, and Jack spreads his thighs wider, pushes into his hand, says "Yes, yes."
He opens his eyes fast when he feels that hot breath on the head of his cock, the only warning he gets before Ianto licks him, curious, eyes locked on Jack's face.
"Please," Jack says, and Ianto takes a deep breath, nods, and takes so much of Jack's cock so fast that he chokes himself a little and has to back off again, eyes watering. After that, he gives Jack the pleasure of his hands on Ianto's face, and lets Jack tell him, "This way, like this," while showing him the perfect, shallow angle.
It's too much to go on for long. There are other things Jack wants now that Ianto is more comfortable, confident. "Come here," he says, and groans when Ianto pulls his mouth away slowly. He tugs Ianto up and flips them over, settles between Ianto's thighs. This time when their cocks push together, Ianto gasps and thrusts against Jack, who kisses him, grinning.
"Ianto," he says, kissing him lightly, and then again. "Will you let me fuck you?"
Ianto stills. His eyes are wide and dark, searching. He'd have said no, Jack can see that in his eyes, before Jack asked to be touched. He's still thinking about saying no, about saying it's too fast.
He says, "Yes."
~
Jack opens Ianto with his fingers, very slowly, using plenty of the hand cream that they'd scavenged from the bath, Ianto on his back, thighs splayed wide. He keeps his other hand on Ianto's cock, not pushing him, distracting. Ianto is sweating, gasping, and would clearly have let himself go already if Jack hadn't asked him to hold on, to wait a little longer.
He'd been apprehensive at the first push of Jack's fingers inside him, thighs tense. Now he's demanding, "More. Jack. Please," in this rough, gritty voice that Jack wasn't expecting. It's beautiful. Ianto is beautiful, lean and sleek.
"I could do this all night," Jack says, twisting his fingers slowly. "Don't you want that?"
Ianto's face is alight, alive with frustration and want. So amazing, how he hides that under his deadpan humor, how he hides this strong, responsive body under his pretty suits and pretends he doesn't crave to be touched. "You know I don't."
Jack grins. "You'll have to tell me what you do want, then. I can't really tell."
Ianto rolls his eyes. "You're a liar," he says. "I won't say a word more about it." He suits actions to words and shuts his mouth, arches his back a little and Jack relents, laughing.
He leans down to kiss Ianto, and then positions himself to thrust, gently, again and again until he slides inside Ianto's body, Ianto gasping and wide-eyed but not with pain. His hands dig into Jack's arms, thighs tight against Jack's hips, and it doesn't matter that Jack is old and can't count the number of times he's done this, it feels brand new again.
~
Ianto sleeps on his side, curled up. Jack tucks in behind him for a few hours, awake sometimes, other times drifting. He keeps an arm over Ianto, hand on his stomach, the tips of his fingers light against the marks from the weevil's claws. So close. A reminder that every moment, Ianto is living and dying, and Jack is just existing.
He kisses the back of Ianto's neck, tasting sweat and soap. Maybe more than just existing, sometimes. Like now, with Ianto so close and the rest of the universe so far away, Jack is alive. New. Human again, through and through.
"I knew you were for me," he says quietly, though Ianto is too busy dreaming to hear, and then Jack closes his eyes and smiles.
Author: giddygeek
Spoilers: Cyberwoman
Notes: 2300 word PWP for misspamela. Happy Birthday! I hope it's close to what you wanted. ;-) Thanks to kaneko for the read-through!
~~~
It's Owen tending Ianto after a run-in with weevils that does Jack in, eventually.
Ianto is standing between Owen's knees, Owen sitting on the couch, Ianto having refused to go anywhere near the morgue or labs. "Attack by weevils is unhygienic enough on its own," he says as he unbuttons his shirt, slowly undoes his trousers.
Owen snorts, but there's apparently enough blood on Ianto's clothes to keep him focused on his work, and not on whose responsibility cleaning the labs happens to be. "Girls--and that includes you, Jack--would you mind leaving us alone a minute?" he asks, impatiently brushing Ianto's hands aside. "I believe the young lad here is too shy to bare his skinny arse while the lot of you stand around gaping."
"He's scratched on the stomach," Jack points out, crossing his arms over his chest.
Owen digs his fingertip into Ianto's pelvis. "All the way down to here," he says. "Do you want me to clean the whole lot of them, or should I just let infection set in and his cock rot off?"
"We'll go," Gwen says, hastily, and grabs Jack's arm. "Come along now, Jack. We'll just leave Owen to his work, shall we?"
Jack narrows his eyes. "Be good," he says, pointing at Owen, and allows Gwen to tug him away. He can watch from his office just as easily, anyway.
~
Ianto tips his chin back and keeps his gaze focused on nothing while Owen cleans his wounds. The cuts are long but very shallow, Jack is glad to see, mostly welts with a bit of scraping. A close call--if Ianto had been inches closer, the weevil might've gutted him. As it is the biggest worry will be infection, and Owen is being very thorough in his work to prevent that.
Jack rests his elbows on his desk and frowns at the security monitor. Very thorough. Owen has one hand braced on Ianto's side, under his ruined white shirt, and the other hand working away on his smooth, pale skin. He's leaning very close to Ianto's abdomen. From Jack's angle, at times, it looks more like he's giving Ianto a blowjob than medical care.
There's a tightening knot in Jack's chest. He isn't a jealous man, but he's been finding more and more that Ianto arouses unusual reactions, atypical, fierce. A dam had burst when Jack found that Cyberwoman in his cellar, everything he'd held in and denied for so long suddenly released. Ianto seems both the natural target for all of it, and too young, too human, too close to something like innocence for Jack to sweep him away in the flood.
Owen leans back, finally, and pats Ianto's belly, says something that makes Ianto's mouth twist wryly. He steps away and begins to carefully pull up his trousers. Owen stands, too close, and pushes Ianto's hands away, works his shirt buttons in from the bottom up. Ianto permits it, watching him, looking vaguely amused, and Jack turns off the monitor and is out of his office in time to see Owen poke Ianto in the hollow of his throat before doing up the last of his buttons.
They both look at him. Owen's hands still on Ianto's collar. Ianto's hands loose at his sides. "You," Jack says, pointing at Ianto. "With me. Owen, go clean your labs--Ianto's right, they are a fucking disgrace."
Ianto smiles at Owen. "Solves that issue," he says, smooth and calm, and steps away.
"Yeah, well, isn't it nice to be Jack's pet?" Owen says, and turns to gather his supplies. "Follow the instructions I gave you or you'll be as functional as a Ken doll, and then we'll see if you get your way so easily around here."
"As long as I can still make the coffee, I think I'll be all right." Ianto holds a hand to his stomach as he bends to pick up his jacket, and Jack can't tell if it's the strain of movement or bitterness in his tone. Probably both, he thinks, when Ianto turns and meets his gaze. Probably a little of both.
"Until the day you lose the accent," he agrees, lightly. "Now, come on. I'll take you home so you can get some sleep." He guides Ianto from the Hub with a hand low on his back, feeling the warmth of his skin through his shirt; he can count on one hand the number of times he's touched Ianto with so few layers between them.
He thinks that's about to change.
~
Ianto's flat is clearly a place where Lisa is meant to live, if not to rule. Ianto's personality is there in the books on the walls and a few photographs with himself and friends, family, but even those are dominated by Lisa's smile. Every last one of them.
"Did she ever come here?" Jack asks, as he follows Ianto from tidy room to room, Ianto clearly wishing he'd stay behind but either too tired or too well-mannered to demand it.
"No."
There isn't even a discarded cup in the parlor, a crumb on the kitchen counter. "Do you ever come here?"
"I come home every night." Ianto sets a kettle on the stove. "I live here."
"Huh," Jack says, and wanders down the hall to Ianto's bedroom and bath. Immaculate, large--the flat is really quite nice. Lisa would probably have loved it. The bed is big and neatly made, with a dark blue duvet and two pillows. The toilet seat is down.
"Thus concludes the tour," Ianto says from the bedroom doorway.
"You probably have some kind of disorder," Jack says, and brushes past him. In the kitchen, he turns the kettle off.
"I'm aware of that." Ianto turns the kettle back on with the quiet patience of a saint. "Now, if you don't mind, I think I would like to get some rest, sir."
"You're still buzzing with adrenaline, or you'd never have been baiting Owen," Jack says. He takes a step forward and crowds Ianto against the counter, then reaches out and turns the kettle off again. He puts his hand on Ianto's cheek, warm skin and the faint prickle of stubble. "Ianto, Ianto. Did Owen touch you and ask you how long it'd been since you last had a fuck?"
Ianto doesn't answer, but he doesn't move away. He watches Jack, wide-eyed but calm.
Jack steps closer. Ianto is lean and strong and it feels right to press against him, lightly, mindful of his scratches. He smells clean and good even after a day chasing weevils. He radiates warmth. Jack would have done what he knows Owen did. He wouldn't have been able to resist.
He rests a hand on Ianto's hip. "Tell me, Ianto," he whispers. "Did he volunteer to give you one?"
Ianto snorts. "And not for the first time," he says. "I used to wonder if he'd fuck anyone that held still long enough."
Jack smiles. "He'd fuck anyone, but not you." He closes the final inch between them and kisses Ianto, lightly, just a brush of lips barely catching. "You're for me," he says, and Ianto leans against him and nods.
~
Ianto is all the things Jack had thought he was--too young, too human, nearly innocent. He's lived for little more than a quarter of a century, all of them consecutive years with no hopping around. Like most everyone else on the planet these days, he's tied to the Earth and despite Torchwood has seen very little. He's never even been forced to open his mind and accept things like third or fourth genders, those who can't be classified, the myriad attractive forms life takes in the galaxy, and so on.
But more than just that. Since he got stuck here, Jack's had a lot of experience with men who've never been with other men before and can tell that Ianto falls into that category; he's surprised by the way Jack kisses him and tentative in kissing back, his hands are cautious and curious. Once, twice, he twists away when Jack's cock brushes against him.
None of this dampens Jack's enthusiasm, because Ianto is hard and leaking when Jack wraps a hand around him, because he gasps Jack's name like it means everything, because when Jack nips at his chin, his throat, his collarbones, Ianto groans roughly and deeply.
Jack pulls them over, sprawls out on his back and spreads out his arms and legs. He feels huge and powerful, like he could take up the entire bed, take over this entire small world. He wants to feel Ianto everywhere while everything is new to Ianto--another man's cock, his stomach, his thighs and arms and chest. "Touch me," he invites, orders.
And that must make it easier for Ianto, because he does. He kisses Jack sweet and slick, trails his tongue and his fingers down Jack's neck, methodical and thorough in his exploration. The joint of Jack's shoulder merits a gentle bite, his nipples a careful twist while Ianto watches Jack's eyes. Ianto kisses his ribs and licks his abs, trailing the pink tip of his tongue over Jack's skin. Jack can't look away from him then, even though his heart races unexpectedly.
Ianto traces his fingertips through the groove of Jack's hip, looking up, almost somber. Jack pushes up into his hands and says, "Please, be my guest," his own fingers weaving lightly through Ianto's short hair. A gentle push gives Ianto the encouragement he needs to follow the path of his fingertips with his tongue, his hot breath puffing against Jack's skin making it all Jack can do not to lead that mouth exactly where he wants it, how he wants it.
Hands first, Ianto's long fingers wrapping around Jack's cock, jacking once, twice, awkward because of the unfamiliar angle. It doesn't matter much to Jack, who grunts and half-closes his eyes, enjoying it. "Harder," he says. "But go smooth." Ianto follows instructions and it's just right, incredible as he relaxes and gets into it. He does to Jack what he likes to do to himself, as all men do the first time, and Jack spreads his thighs wider, pushes into his hand, says "Yes, yes."
He opens his eyes fast when he feels that hot breath on the head of his cock, the only warning he gets before Ianto licks him, curious, eyes locked on Jack's face.
"Please," Jack says, and Ianto takes a deep breath, nods, and takes so much of Jack's cock so fast that he chokes himself a little and has to back off again, eyes watering. After that, he gives Jack the pleasure of his hands on Ianto's face, and lets Jack tell him, "This way, like this," while showing him the perfect, shallow angle.
It's too much to go on for long. There are other things Jack wants now that Ianto is more comfortable, confident. "Come here," he says, and groans when Ianto pulls his mouth away slowly. He tugs Ianto up and flips them over, settles between Ianto's thighs. This time when their cocks push together, Ianto gasps and thrusts against Jack, who kisses him, grinning.
"Ianto," he says, kissing him lightly, and then again. "Will you let me fuck you?"
Ianto stills. His eyes are wide and dark, searching. He'd have said no, Jack can see that in his eyes, before Jack asked to be touched. He's still thinking about saying no, about saying it's too fast.
He says, "Yes."
~
Jack opens Ianto with his fingers, very slowly, using plenty of the hand cream that they'd scavenged from the bath, Ianto on his back, thighs splayed wide. He keeps his other hand on Ianto's cock, not pushing him, distracting. Ianto is sweating, gasping, and would clearly have let himself go already if Jack hadn't asked him to hold on, to wait a little longer.
He'd been apprehensive at the first push of Jack's fingers inside him, thighs tense. Now he's demanding, "More. Jack. Please," in this rough, gritty voice that Jack wasn't expecting. It's beautiful. Ianto is beautiful, lean and sleek.
"I could do this all night," Jack says, twisting his fingers slowly. "Don't you want that?"
Ianto's face is alight, alive with frustration and want. So amazing, how he hides that under his deadpan humor, how he hides this strong, responsive body under his pretty suits and pretends he doesn't crave to be touched. "You know I don't."
Jack grins. "You'll have to tell me what you do want, then. I can't really tell."
Ianto rolls his eyes. "You're a liar," he says. "I won't say a word more about it." He suits actions to words and shuts his mouth, arches his back a little and Jack relents, laughing.
He leans down to kiss Ianto, and then positions himself to thrust, gently, again and again until he slides inside Ianto's body, Ianto gasping and wide-eyed but not with pain. His hands dig into Jack's arms, thighs tight against Jack's hips, and it doesn't matter that Jack is old and can't count the number of times he's done this, it feels brand new again.
~
Ianto sleeps on his side, curled up. Jack tucks in behind him for a few hours, awake sometimes, other times drifting. He keeps an arm over Ianto, hand on his stomach, the tips of his fingers light against the marks from the weevil's claws. So close. A reminder that every moment, Ianto is living and dying, and Jack is just existing.
He kisses the back of Ianto's neck, tasting sweat and soap. Maybe more than just existing, sometimes. Like now, with Ianto so close and the rest of the universe so far away, Jack is alive. New. Human again, through and through.
"I knew you were for me," he says quietly, though Ianto is too busy dreaming to hear, and then Jack closes his eyes and smiles.